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sunflowervolvimp3 · 4 years

Text

changes (best friend!harry)

Warnings: language, nsfw content, drugs (marijuana) and alcohol

Pairing: best friend!Harry x reader

Word Count: 17k (holy shit)

A/N: So this started as two requests I had in my inbox that I got way too into and then it became this. this may be the longest stand-alone fic I’ve ever written, and it, like watermelon sugar, is dedicated to touching!!!! I spent so long on this so as always. feedback is appreciated. and if you like it, please reblog it!!! reblogging is the best way to show fic writers your appreciation <3

{masterlist}

Unless she’s reminded otherwise, Y/N always thinks of herself as a teenager.

This, of course, isn’t true. She turned twenty-six a month ago, works as a media producer for an online clothing company, and lives alone in a one bedroom apartment in London. However, unless she physically has something in front of her to remind her of her real age and the passing of time, Y/N disregards this information.

Usually, the reminder is a bill in the mail, or a phone call to remind her that she needs to book an appointment with her doctor. Usually, the reminder is an ache in her back, her glasses prescription getting worse, or realizing that she has no idea what her teenage cousins are talking about when she sees them at Christmas. Usually, the reminder is enough to give her pause, but not enough to throw her for a loop.

This time, however, the reminder is her childhood best friend naked in her bathroom.

Y/N and Harry had been friends since they were in primary school, after Y/N had moved to London with her mother. Their new house just happened to be next to Harry’s, and Anne and Y/N’s mother had quickly hit it off. Anne had been quick to volunteer her son to be Y/N’s tour guide at school, and despite not being enthusiastic about each other in the beginning, the two began to grow closer by the end of Y/N’s first week there. Within a month, the two were inseparable, and that didn’t change as they entered their teen years, started secondary school, and Harry left London to become a member of the most famous boyband in the world. Just typical teen things.

However, despite their distance, Y/N and Harry had remained as close as ever. They constantly texted, called, and video chatted with each other, and Y/N even joined Harry on tour a few times (with permission from her mother). Although both of them had been worried when Harry left, their worries and fears never came to fruition. Just as they balanced each other in personality, they balanced each other in lifestyle—when Y/N needed a break from high school and university, Harry brought her to shows, award ceremonies, and parties, and when Harry felt like his fame was overwhelming, Y/N sent him reminders of home, hosted countless movie nights for him, and told him story after story of university life.

They were so perfectly matched that, when they were younger, many people—and tabloids—suspected that they were dating. Even their mothers had asked them, on occasion, if one of them had any interest in the other. However, their answers were always the same. Y/N and Harry were best friends, and nothing more. Sure, they were touchy, affectionate, called each other pet names, and had even kissed on a few occasions during truth or dare at parties, but none of it actually meant anything. Y/N had watched Harry grow from a cute kid to an awkward teen to a self-assured man, and her feelings for him had never changed, and an attraction to him had never developed.

Until now.

Harry’s facing away from her, his towel in his hand as he dries his chest. His entire body glistens with water from the shower. Y/N can’t stop herself from letting her eyes canvas over every inch of his smooth arms, toned back, down lower to his—

Her breath catches in her throat. Yeah. His ass is toned, too, she thinks to herself, and only has another moment to think that she shouldn’t be looking before Harry glances over his shoulder, alarmed by the small sound she had made.

“Y/N—” His eyes widen a bit, but he doesn’t make an effort to cover himself with his towel very quickly.

Her eyes automatically follow his movement for a moment before she realizes what she’s about to see. “Sorry!” Y/N turns around quickly, her face heated. “Sorry, I—the door was unlocked, I didn’t realize you were—”

“It’s fine.” Harry fixes his towel around his waist. “Don’t worry about—”

Y/N leaves the bathroom before he can finish his sentence, walking to her bedroom quickly and shutting the door tightly behind her.

Harry, it seems, is today’s reminder that she’s no longer a teenager, because his body is that of a man.

It’s not like you haven’t seen him shirtless before, she tells herself, walking to her dresser to pick out a change of clothes. Y/N’s seen him half naked countless times. The whole world has seen Harry half naked countless times. But she’s never seen him like that.

When did Harry grow up? Somehow, between movie nights and pool parties and going away to school, Y/N had failed to notice that her childhood best friend is no longer a child. Harry had grown into his features, developed muscles in his arms and chest, tattooed designs all over his skin, and had become an incredibly attractive adult without her noticing.

Y/N pulls her pajamas off quickly, stopping to glance at herself in her full length mirror. She, like Harry, is also no longer a child. She had grown into her features like he had, had gotten a few tattoos, made her share of mistakes, and became an adult the same way he did. Neither her nor Harry’s growth had happened overnight.

As she runs her hand between her chest, down her stomach, brushing her hip, Y/N can’t help but wonder: has Harry noticed that they’ve grown up? Does he still look at her and see the shy little girl, the developing teenager, or does he look at her and see a grown woman? Is she the only one who’s been late to the party?

Y/N feels a flutter in the pit of her stomach. Is it possible that, at some point, Harry looked at her and had the same realization that she had a moment ago? That not only had she grown into a woman, but that she had grown into an attractive woman?

The sound of the bathroom door opening distracts Y/N from her thoughts, and she hurries to finish getting dressed. Her shirt, she finds when she pulls it on, smells a bit like Harry’s cologne, as she had set it on the side of the bed that he slept on the night before. She likes it more than she should.

After she’s dressed, she debates just staying in her bedroom to avoid facing Harry again for a bit longer. However, she can hear him working her coffee maker in the kitchen, and knows she can’t hide in her bedroom like a child. She isn’t a child.

Neither is he, she thinks to herself as she touches her bedroom doorknob. Which is the problem.

Still, Y/N shakes herself from her thoughts and walks out to her kitchen.

Harry, now dressed in wide leg jeans and a plain white t-shirt, is leaning against her kitchen counter, a cup of coffee in his hand. His hair is still wet from his shower, but other than that, he looks normal. Completely normal.

And yet, Y/N can’t manage to meet his eyes.

“Good morning.” Harry’s voice is low, a bit of amusement in it as he notices her demeanor. “How did you sleep?”

“Fine.” Y/N hates how tight her voice is as she grabs a mug from the kitchen cabinet. “I slept fine. Did you?”

Harry nods, his eyes still tracing her every move as her own eyes avoid him. “I did. Woke up a bit early, though. Thought I’d shower before brunch.”

Right. Brunch. They’re having brunch that day with a few old friends, at a place just down the street from Y/N’s apartment, which is why Harry had stayed over the night before. Y/N was going to have to act normal around their other friends, which means she can’t avoid looking at him for much longer.

“I’m sorry.” She says as she pours a cup of coffee. “I am, I—I should’ve knocked. I forgot you slept over, and—”

“It’s fine, Y/N. I should’ve locked the door.” Harry says easily, the corner of his lips tugging up. “It’s not a big deal. Besides, it’s not like you haven’t seen me naked before.”

At that comment, Y/N pauses. “Except…I haven’t seen you naked before?”

Harry shakes his head adamantly. “No. You have. There’s no way we’ve been friends for almost twenty years, and you haven’t.”

“Harry, believe me. I’ve seen you in a lot of weird positions over the years, but I’ve never seen you completely nude.” Y/N feels her regular ease with him begin to return, just a little bit. “I would remember that.”

“Would you?” Harry cocks an eyebrow, his coffee cup half raised to his lips.

The bit of ease that returned disappears immediately. “I—” Y/N’s cheeks heat up again. “Shut up, you know what I meant.”

Harry tries to hide his laugh behind his coffee, but fails. “I’m just teasing you, love. It’s fine, promise. I don’t mind that you saw. I’m very comfortable in my body.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Too comfortable, I think.”

“Is there such a thing as being too comfortable in your body?” Harry asks in a teasing voice, crossing his arms.

“When your best friend walks in on you naked and you don’t bother to cover yourself?” Despite the blush on her cheeks, Y/N manages to laugh. “Yes. There is.”

“I don’t know…” Harry finishes his coffee and sets the mug in the kitchen sink. “It sounds like there’s issues with your comfort, not mine.”

Before Y/N can form a reply, Harry shoots her a smirk and walks out of the kitchen.

For the rest of the day, Y/N does her best not to think about that morning’s awkward encounter. Brunch with her friends is normal, and she just lets herself enjoy having Harry home, and catching up with everyone. The afternoon also passes in an unremarkable way, as does that night. Over the next few days, however, things begin to change.

Within two weeks, the atmosphere of the country has shifted. There’s a virus that’s highly contagious and can be fatal, Y/N’s work tells her to work from home, and soon the entire country is being told to stay home to avoid catching Coronavirus.

And then Harry texts her two days later, without any warning or leeway for her to disagree.

I’m on the last flight back to London. Pack a bag and bring some groceries to my place, so we can isolate together. You’ll go crazy alone in your flat.

Y/N tries to reply that it’s not necessary, but her message doesn’t go through. Harry’s already on the plane. So she does what he says, and packs a bag of clothes, her work bag, some alcohol, and her favourite snacks, and drives over to his house.

Letting herself in with her key, Y/N begins to bring the house back to life. She lights Harry’s candles and orders some dinner, as well as groceries for the next couple weeks. She makes sure she gets his favourite foods, and the weird snacks that only he likes. She calls her mum to tell her she’ll be with Harry, and Anne, to tell her the same thing. And then she waits.

When Harry finally walks through the front door, he looks more like the tired seventeen year old on his first tour than the grown man she had seen a few weeks ago. The bags under his eyes are evidence of his jetlag and stress, his jacket is rumpled from the plane, his hair just as messy, and he looks like he could collapse the second the door closes behind him.

“H.” Y/N walks towards him and gives him a tight hug. One hand goes to his back and the other to his hair, playing with it as she always does. “Are you alright?”

“Long flight.” Harry mutters in reply, eyes closed as he holds her tight. “Everyone’s going insane in the States. I’m lucky I got a flight back to London.”

“Why did you?” Y/N pulls back, brushing his messy hair from his eyes. “You could’ve stayed in LA.”

“Yeah, but…” Harry shrugs a bit. “I knew you’d be alone. And I wanted to be with you.”

Y/N can’t help the soft smile that creeps onto her face. “C’mon. I have dinner ready.”

Harry barely makes it through dinner with his eyes open, but still insists on watching a movie after. Y/N tries to tell him that he should just go to sleep, but he won’t hear it.

“We can watch it in my bed, like we used to when we were little.” Harry gives her his best puppy dog eyes. “Please?”

Y/N shoves his shoulder. “You’re twenty-six. Stop pouting to get what you want.”

“I’ll stop pouting when it stops working.”

Y/N laughs in spite of herself. “Fine, but shower first. You smell like a plane.”

Of course, as predicted, Harry starts to drift to sleep within the first half hour of the movie. He slips down in the bed more and more, until his head is in Y/N’s lap completely. Out of habit, Y/N begins to play with his damp curls, running her fingers through them at a steady pace as she watches the movie.

Harry’s breathing begins to even out as she does, and Y/N begins to pay more attention to him than the TV. When they spend the night with each other, Y/N always falls asleep first. It’s rare she gets to see him completely relaxed.

As much as she loves his green eyes, his eyelashes may be a close second. They’re so long and dark that they almost make Y/N jealous. And his cheeks…she brings one hand up to gently touch them. They’re stubbled from his long day of travel, but the skin underneath feels soft. Despite having lost his baby fat years ago, there’s still a layer of tenderness in his body.

Y/N is so distracted by him that she doesn’t realize that she’s stopped playing with his hair, not until Harry speaks up.

“Why’d you stop?” His voice is groggy with exhaustion, lower, with a thicker accent. His words slur together as well

“Hm?” Y/N hums in her throat in response. “I thought you were asleep.”

“Not really.” Harry’s eyes stay closed as he shifts his position a bit. “Will you play with my hair a bit longer? Feels nice.”

The movie credits roll in the background as Y/N does what he says. Harry sighs contently, relaxing back into her again.

Y/N turns the TV off, so the only light in the room comes from the moon through the open curtains. It shines over half of Harry’s face, catching the ends of his eyelashes. Somehow, the moonlight makes his cheeks and lips even more pink.

“You’re really pretty, y’know that?” Y/N says it absentmindedly, her fingers still combing through Harry’s curls.

“Thanks.” He has just enough energy to mumble a response. “’M, not as pretty as you, though.”

Y/N’s stomach flutters when he says it, so quiet that she’s not even certain she heard him correctly. “Liar.”

“’S true.” Harry’s reply is even less audible than before. “So pretty.”

If Harry was awake and more present in the conversation, Y/N might tease him. She might try to make him blush, or roll his eyes, or laugh. Maybe, just maybe, she’d even ask him to elaborate, just enough that she could figure out what the fluttering in her stomach means.

But Harry is hardly awake right now. And it wouldn’t be fair.

“Go to sleep, H,” is all Y/N says, shifting to lay down a bit more without pausing the movement of her fingers.

…

It takes Harry a few days to readjust to London time. While Y/N spends her weekdays working from the kitchen table, Harry naps and fiddles with his guitar and journal. While she can tell he’s working on something, Y/N can also tell that he’s not making much process.

A week after coming back from LA, Harry half stomps into the kitchen during the afternoon, frustration clear on his face as he opens the fridge and grabs an apple. He bites into it angrily and leans against the counter, the irritation still on his face.

Y/N glances at him from behind her laptop. “Everything alright?”

Harry gives half a shrug. “Trying to write.”

“And how’s that going?”

“Fucking sucks.” Harry takes another bite of the apple. “I thought I’d feel more inspired, being at home and not having deadlines, but I can’t get anything out. Not anything good, anyways.”

“I know the feeling.” Y/N sighs as she closes her laptop. “There’s been a huge surge in online orders, and my boss wants me to create more promo material, but it’s hard to focus on anything right now.”

Harry nods and glances out the window. “Doesn’t help that it’s a beautiful day, but we can’t go out.”

“We can go out. We just can’t leave the property.” Y/N replies. “You have a giant backyard. Why don’t you use it?”

“Yeah. Maybe I’ll go for a swim.” Harry takes another bite of his apple. “You want to come?”

Y/N laughs a bit. “Unlike you, H, I have a real nine to five job. I’m on the clock for another two hours.”

“After, then.” Harry tosses his apple core in the compost and gives her a grin. “I hope you packed that yellow bikini.”

Y/N crumples a piece of scrap paper in her hand and throws it at him. “Piss off.”

Y/N did, in fact, pack her yellow bikini. However, when she’s changing from her clothes into a swimsuit, she chooses her blue bikini instead, just to have a bit of agency. Every instinct in her is telling her to wear what Harry said to, and it’s a little concerning. She’s never cared about dressing for him before, and she isn’t prepared to start.

Despite the different colour, Harry still grins from the edge of the pool when he sees her walk out. “Look at you. Should’ve put you in the Watermelon Sugar music video.”

“Shut up.” Y/N sits on the edge of the pool, dangling her lets in the water. Harry rests his head on his arms, his cheeky grin still on his face as he looks up at her.

“I’m serious.” He says innocently. “It was a fun day. You really would’ve liked it.”

“Of course you thought it was fun; you had a bunch of beautiful girls fawning over you and feeding you fruit.” Y/N rolls her eyes from behind her sunglasses. “You’re such a narcissist.”

“All musicians are narcissists, love. At least, the best ones are.” Harry’s grin grows as he pushes away from the ledge. “Are you going to just sit there and look pretty, or are you actually going to swim?”

“I’m going to tan.” Y/N leans her head back, enjoying the feeling of the warm sun.

Harry shakes his head. “No, sorry. The pool is for swimming only.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

In hindsight, Y/N should’ve known what Harry was about to do. She’s been friends with him long enough that she knows how his brain works. However, Y/N is enjoying the sun so much that she lets her guard down for one moment, and that one moment is all Harry needs.

She feels his hands grip her legs, and before she can stop him, he pulls her into the pool. Her entire body submerges, and when she finally rises, gasping for air, the only thing she can hear is Harry’s snickering.

“You’re such an ass!” Y/N hits his shoulder hard, not caring about leaving a mark on him. “That’s not funny!”

“The pool is for swimming only. I told you.” Harry can’t stop laughing long enough to make it through his sentence clearly. “Them’s the rules.”

“Them’s the rules.” Y/N repeats in a mocking voice, hitting him one more time. “You’re the worst.”

“Maybe, but you’re stuck with me.” Harry runs a hand through his wet hair. “At least until quarantine is done.”

“I should’ve stayed alone in my apartment.” Y/N mutters, tossing her wet sunglasses on the pool ledge. “Would’ve been so much more peaceful.”

“And boring.” Harry points out. “And you wouldn’t get to take relaxing swims like this!”

“Right. Relaxing.” Y/N splashes him playfully. “Jerk.”

Harry just grins at you.

…

“Want one?”

Y/N glances at Harry as he packs loose marijuana into a wrapper, concentration clear on his face as he rolls it.

“You learn how to roll those in LA?” Y/N asks, taking a sip of her wine.

Harry chuckles lightly, his skin illuminated by the fire burning in front of them and the moon above them. “Yeah. I’m not very good, though. Usually I have somebody else to roll them for me.”

“So high maintenance.”

Another low laugh rolls out of Harry’s mouth. “Ha. High maintenance.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, but an endearing smile is on her face. “It’s still illegal in the U.K., you know.”

“I doubt the police are going to break social distancing rules to arrest me for it.” Harry’s tongue pokes out of his mouth as he tries his best to roll the joint tightly.

Y/N watches as Harry brings the wrapper to his mouth, licking it lightly. To her dismay, her attraction to Harry had yet to fade, and spending every moment of the day together wasn’t helping.

“I’m not an eighteen year old girl on your tour bus anymore, Harry.” Y/N raises her wine glass. “I drink red wine now. I’m sophisticated.”

Harry snorts, his eyes flickering to her before looking back down at the joint. “Sophisticated, right. Like you didn’t do body shots off the bartender at your birthday party this year.”

Y/N’s cheeks burn. “Birthdays don’t count.”

“Neither did tour buses, and neither does my backyard in the middle of a pandemic.” Harry seals the joint as best he can. “You may have a fancy job now, but you’re still my Y/N.”

His Y/N. That phrase ignites the now familiar flutter in her stomach and, over the last few days, her core. Something about Harry identifying her as his drives Y/N insane, even if it’s nothing new.

“And what exactly does your Y/N do?” She manages to say after a moment.

“She doesn’t take shit from anyone. She gets drunk fast and high faster. She’s always down for a laugh. And, although she won’t admit it, she has a tendency to make bad decisions that she tries to suppress, but can’t always manage to do so.” Harry sparks his lighter and sticks the joint between his lips, lighting it and puffing it quickly.

“Then you should know that your Y/N can’t have a joint of her own.” Y/N steals the joint from Harry’s lips, taking a few puffs of her own from it before handing it back.

The smoke curls in her lungs, forcing a few coughs from her.

“Alright?” Harry asks, concern in his eyes.

Y/N nods, her hand pressed to her chest like she can stop the burn. “Yeah. Just haven’t done that in a while.”

“You always cough so much. It would be cute if it wasn’t so bloody concerning.” Harry says casually, lifting the joint to his lips and inhaling.

Y/N watches as he exhales smoke slowly. She wonders if she looks as attractive as he does when she blows out smoke.

Harry grins at her with just the corner of his mouth, like there’s a secret tugging at the edge of his lips.

Y/N really doubts it.

“Here.” Harry places the joint between her lips. “Inhale slowly.”

Y/N does as he says, doing her best to keep from coughing until the joint and his hand is away from her face. Her eyes burn a bit, both from the smoke and the oncoming high that’s starting to twist through her body.

“That’s a good girl.” Harry praises her before leaning back, placing the joint back between his own lips. “You’ve gotten better at that. Thought you were going to pass out the first time we smoked, remember?”

“I remember I almost did.” Y/N giggles to herself as she settles down into the couch more. “I coughed so much that I thought I was going to die on that tour bus.”

“Niall was certain you had.” Harry laughs too, and Y/N known they’re both playing back the same memory. “Wasn’t quite sure how we were going to explain that one to Paul. Neither was I, honestly.”

“You don’t give me enough credit.” Despite the feeling coming over her, YN still takes another sip of her wine. “I was fine.”

Harry nods as he finishes the joint, setting the butt down into his ash tray. “Still…we had some fun nights on the bus when you were there.”

“That was a fun summer.” Y/N agrees, her eyes fixed on the fire before them. “Lots of good memories.”

As Y/N watches the fire, Harry watches her. He lets another moment or two pass before speaking again.

“When you were on tour with us that summer…” He rubs his lips absentmindedly. “You and Niall. Did you two ever…?”

“What? Fuck?” The weed and the alcohol take away the careful tone of Y/N’s regular speech, leaving honesty and bluntness behind.

Harry laughs once. “I was going to say date, but yeah. I guess so.”

“We didn’t date. We fooled around a few times.” Y/N shrugs, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “He was fun. But we both knew it wasn’t anything serious, just something to do while I was on tour with you.”

Harry nods a bit, reaching for his own drink and taking a sip. Y/N watches the movement with heavy lidded eyes. His arm muscles flex underneath his tattooed skin when he moves, and the way his fingers wrap around his glass is fascinating to her.

“I figured he would have told you.” Y/N pulls her sweater around her tighter. Now that the sun has set completely, a chill has appeared. “You guys always talked about girls together.”

“No, he didn’t tell me. And I didn’t ask.” Harry keeps his glass in his hand, looking down at it with an unreadable expression. “I thought you might tell me, but you didn’t, either.”

The substances in Y/N’s system are clouding her mind, but she does her best to focus on Harry’s words. As a way to ground herself, she pulls her sweater away from her body, hoping that the cold air will help.

“I’m sorry.” She says slowly, like it takes all her effort to get the words out. “I didn’t mean to…hurt your feelings.”

“You didn’t.”

“Oh.” Confusion fogs Y/N’s mind. “Then…why is it bothering you?”

“It’s not bothering me.” Harry denies, finishing off his drink. “I was just wondering why. You usually tell me everything. You always have.”

Y/N bites her lip. “I don’t tell you about every person I sleep with.”

Harry hums low in the back of his throat, but offers no other response.

After a few minutes, Y/N stands up. “I think I’m going to head to bed.”

Twisting his empty glass around in his hands, Harry nods. “Alright. I’ll be up in a little bit.”

“You know, you have a guest room.” Y/N pauses, fiddling with the bottom of her sweater. Her skin feels unsettled, and the fabric against it isn’t helping. “I should probably start using it. Social distancing, and all that.”

Harry looks up at her, a stubborn look reflecting in his eyes. “No. I sleep better with you beside me.”

When Harry finally comes up to bed an hour later, Y/N is still awake, eyes closed, with her back away from the door and head toward the wall. She doesn’t turn over when she hears the door creak open, and instead just listens to the rustling sounds of Harry changing, going to the bathroom, washing his hands, and returning to the bedroom.

Y/N feels his weight on the bed, but doesn’t hear him slide in next to her. Instead, she does her best to stay completely relaxed when she feels his fingers brush against her hairline, pushing back a few loose strands.

Staying completely relaxed, it turns out, is easier thought than done. The moment Harry touches her, Y/N feels the nerves in her face burst to life. It’s like electricity, like nothing she’s ever felt before from any previous touches from Harry. Behind her closed eyes, Y/N feels her head spinning, but she’s certain it must be the weed and the alcohol in her system.

Finally, the sheets are pulled back, and Harry gets under the covers. He pulls Y/N back against him, and Y/N can feel the hot skin of his chest pressed against her shoulders. Harry takes a moment to adjust before sighing, almost in content, and then he presses a gentle kiss to the back of her shoulder.

The tender action leaves Y/N speechless. The action itself isn’t new; they had always been very physically affectionate with each other. But there’s something about the moment that Y/N can’t quite place a finger on. Perhaps she would be able to if she was sober, or less tired, but with her brain in its current state, the words she needs are lost, and she’s certain she won’t remember the feeling in the morning.

Harry inhales deeply, his nose buried in her hair, and sighs again. Y/N can feel him relaxing back against her, but his arms stay wrapped around her tightly. It’s a comforting embrace, and makes it easy for Y/N’s mind to finally quiet and drift off.

…

“You’re still working?”

Y/N looks up from her laptop to see Harry standing above her, sweaty from his workout. His hair is tied up in a little ponytail on top of his head, and he has a towel wrapped around his shoulders that he uses to wipe sweat from his face. His body is literally glistening in the sunlight, and Y/N suddenly finds it very hard to focus on her work.

“I am.” She says finally, closing the lid of her laptop and stretching out on the beach chair. “Or I was. I’m done for today.”

“Good.” Harry sits down on the chair next to her. “I’m going to have a shower, but I was thinking we should try baking something later.”

Y/N raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because I want cupcakes, and homemade are way better than store bought.” Harry says easily, stealing Y/N’s water and taking a gulp from it.

Y/N watches his throat move as he swallows the water, how his Adam’s apple bobs, how he licks his lips when he finally pulls the glass away from his mouth.

Y/N’s own mouth suddenly feels very dry.

“Alright, yeah.” Y/N nods weakly. “We can bake something later. It’ll be fun.”

…

“It’ll be fun.” Y/N shakes her head in disbelief. “God, I can’t believe I said that.”

“It was fun!” Harry argues, holding up a red velvet cupcake. “And we did it!”

“And we made a mess.” Y/N gestures to the kitchen around them, which looks like a warzone. Flour, powdered sugar, and cocoa powder cover every counter surface. There are broken eggshells on the counter, splatters of batter everywhere, and both Y/N and Harry have dyed red hands from food colouring.

“It could be worse.” Harry shrugs, clearly untroubled. “C’mon. Try a cupcake.”

Y/N reaches for one, but Harry simply lifts the one in his hand to her mouth. She locks eyes with him as she takes a bite, the icing smearing across her top lip.

Y/N chews slowly and swallows hard. “Yeah. They’re good.”

Harry extends a hand, and his finger runs along her lip, collecting the icing. He pops it into his mouth, sucking for a moment before humming in agreement. “Yeah. Sweet.”

The cupcakes, it turns out, pair well with watermelon cocktails, and soon Y/N and Harry are sitting on the couch, takeout and cupcakes in front of them and drinks in their hands as they giggle and talk. They’re intoxicated, but not just from the alcohol in the strong drinks that Harry makes.

“Honestly, working from home isn’t ideal, but it’s not that bad.” Y/N pops a bite of food into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “Definitely not the worst part of quarantine.”

“Yeah?” Harry leans back on the couch. “What’s the worst part?”

Y/N shrugs. “It sucks being away from people, cooped up inside.”

Harry nods, but his face looks wistful. “I miss sex.”

Y/N laughs, but she nods in agreement as well. “Fuck, I know. I miss sex so much.”

“It’s nice, you know? A good way to burn some energy…always sleep so well after…” Harry sighs, taking a sip of his drink between his phrases. “I feel like I’m back on a tour bus again, with no one around but my hand.”

A giggle escapes Y/N’s mouth. “How tragic.” She also takes a sip of her drink, and tries to stop herself from making a face. Harry really does make them strong. “I just miss touching. I haven’t been this touch starved since I was seventeen.”

Harry makes a scoffing noise in the back of his throat. “We touch.”

“That’s different.” Y/N finishes her drink. “That’s friendly touching. It’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean, then?” Harry challenges her, a glint in his eyes that Y/N’s come to recognize as a sign of trouble.

She refuses to take the bait. “You know what I meant.”

“I don’t.” Harry says it innocently, and he reaches forward to take her glass from her. “How about I get us some refills while you think of how to say it?”

Y/N lets him take the glass (she loves his drinks, despite how strong they are), but shakes her head. “Stop being an ass. You know exactly what I meant.”

A low laugh rolls out of Harry as he walks to the built-in bar he has in the lounge. He begins to recreate the drinks, muddling this, adding a splash of that. If Harry wasn’t already a rock star, she’d suggest he become a mixologist.

“Maybe I do know what you meant.” Harry shakes the cocktail shaker with ease before straining the liquid out over their glasses, which he’s filled with fresh ice. “But I want to hear you say it.”

Y/N runs a hand through her hair. She feels warm from the alcohol, and the lit candles around them aren’t helping. The food and cupcakes sit on the table, all but forgotten in their new conversation. “Say what?”

Harry’s lips pull up in a smirk, but his eyes show something else. He walks back over and hands her the drink before taking a seat next to her again. “The kind of touching you miss.”

Their fingers touch as Y/N takes the glass from him, and suddenly the warmth of the room feels ten times hotter. “You want me to say it?”

Harry lifts his glass to his lips, but keeps his eyes on her. “I do.”

“I…” Y/N takes a sip of the drink (which is stronger than the one before) and then presses the cold glass to her cheek. “I miss touching. Intimate touching. And…being touched intimately.”

Harry inhales deeply, stretching out his shoulders before responding. “Yeah. I miss that too. Holding hands, touching someone’s stomach, chest, legs…having them play with my hair…”

“I play with your hair.” Y/N says defensively, a crease appearing between her eyebrows.

Harry laughs once. “Right, but like you said…that’s different.”

Y/N clears her throat. “Right.”

Harry takes a long sip from his drink. “’S still nice, though.” Harry adds after a moment, licking his lips. “I love when you play with my hair. You know that.”

Nodding softly, Y/N begins to trail a finger over the rim of her glass. Whenever she begins to get tipsy, she begins to fidget more, and feel freer in her actions. And when Y/N glances back at Harry, she can tell he recognizes the sign as well.

“What about you?” He asks, bringing her back from her thoughts. “What do you miss having people do?”

Y/N drinks again, pulling her knees to her chest as she leans against the couch’s armrest. “I miss…having my hair played with, too. That’s always nice. I miss having my fingers played with…neck kisses…I like when people, like, rub my arms or thighs, just absentmindedly…” She leans her head against her arm. “Your turn.”

“My turn?” Harry rubs his nose lightly, and Y/N can tell he’s feeling the alcohol, too. “What’s my turn?”

“Tell me what else you like.” Y/N smiles softly, a small laugh just barely bubbling out from her. “We’ve never actually talked about it, H. Isn’t that strange?”

Harry turns to face her more, pausing to think for a moment. “I suppose we’ve never been specific before, yeah.” He taps his thumb against his H ring. “I like being in control, usually. Telling them what to do, where to touch me…” His eyes get a faraway look in them. “But sometimes it’s nice to give up control. Have someone else…”

“Decide.” Y/N finishes his sentence for him when he trails off. “Yeah. I’m more like that, I think. I usually let someone else decide. But I like the in-between, too. Like…both exploring each other.”

“What do you mean?” Harry cocks his head to the side curiously.

Y/N shrugs loosely, her finger still tracing her glass. “’S hard to explain.”

Harry’s voice is low when he replies, almost like he’s somewhere else. “Try.”

“Well…” Y/N takes a drink before setting her glass down. “It’s like…do you remember your first time?”

Harry blinks, surprised at the question, but nods. “Yeah. I do.”

“And remember how nervous you were?”

“Yeah.”

“And like…” Y/N plays with her fingers as she ponders her next words. “You were nervous, yeah, but there was also this excitement in you. Kind of like…a breathlessness. And you looked at the other person and knew they…”

Harry closes his eyes for a moment. “Felt the same.”

“Yeah.” Y/N tucks her hair behind her ears. “And just, like, being comfortable with them, and knowing you could both explore, and ask questions, and you were both together…” Y/N feels heat rise to her cheeks as she trails off. “I don’t know. I feel like that’s rare, but I—it’s nice. I like it.”

“Yeah.” Harry rubs his thumb over his lip as he shifts his position on the couch. “It’s nice, yeah. Rare, usually. But nice.”

“I think it’s rare, because, like—” The alcohol makes it harder for Y/N to gather her thoughts, but also harder to sensor them. “I don’t know, I feel like when I was younger, and hadn’t had sex yet, I took more time with, like, finding the right person? Like I wanted it to be with someone who loved me for the first time, and someone I was comfortable with, and it was. And then after, the love part didn’t matter so much for me.” Y/N glances at Harry, who seems to be hanging on her every word. “Which, like, was fine. What mattered to me the most was that whoever I had sex with respected me. And they did, so that was…good. But it’s different.” Y/N rubs her arms. “I don’t know if that makes sense…”

“It does.” Harry assures her, placing a light hand on her knee. He begins to rub small circles. “Keep going.”

“I just think that, like, that in-between, breathless, exploring each other kind of thing…the comfort…that’s rare because it only really happens with someone you love.” Y/N murmurs. “At least, that’s how it is for me. And I haven’t really been in love much in my life.”

“I’ve been in love probably too much.” Harry admits, his hand still on Y/N’s knee. “Too much to be good for me.”

Y/N shakes her head adamantly. “No, H. That’s good. That’s…brave. You’re not afraid of how you feel. Most people are.”

“Maybe.” Harry finishes his drink again with one long gulp.

Y/N watches as he does, seeing a little drip of liquid slip from the corner of his mouth. She can’t stop herself from leaning forward and wiping it away with her thumb, feeling the stubble of Harry’s chin scratch against her.

Harry watches her with hooded eyes as she leans back to her previous position. His hand slips a bit higher, from her knee to her lower thigh, but she doesn’t say anything.

“Who have you been in love with?” He asks. His words are slurred a bit, and his accent seems thicker.

“My first boyfriend, Parker. You remember him.” Y/N sighs, closing her eyes as she herself remembers. “And…Christian, from university. We were together for two years. That’s it, I think.”

Despite the alcohol, Harry’s face still shows some surprise. “Really? No one else? No one since Christian?”

Y/N shrugs. “I’ve dated, yeah, and had relationships, but…I don’t know. I didn’t love any of them. I was…infatuated. But I never…it was intense, but like—intense like a spark. Nothing prolonged.”

Harry hums in response. “Thought you were going to say Niall for a moment. He was pretty torn up when you went back to school after that summer.”

Y/N’s face mimics Harry’s surprise from a moment ago. “Was he?”

“Yeah. Moped around a bit, spent time by himself, on his phone every two minutes…” Harry’s expression shows the difficulty it’s taking him to think back eight years while drunk. “I knew it was because you left. Thought you two had an…agreement, or something.”

“An agreement?” A giggle escapes Y/N. “This isn’t a Jane Austen book, Harry. We didn’t have an agreement.” Once she gets her laughter out, she sighs. “He was that upset?”

“Yeah.” Harry scratches the back of his neck. “So I thought…he must be in love with you. And you were…”

“No, I wasn’t.” Y/N says softly. “He was so upset that you thought he was in love with me?”

“Yeah.”

Y/N bites her lip. “Was he more upset than you?”

Harry takes a moment to reply, looking at her with a serious expression. His lips are so red, and his eyes are so green, and both of them are so drunk that neither of them can sense the meaning behind what they’re saying.

“No.” Harry finally responds. “He wasn’t.”

…

“Good morning.”

“Shhh.” Y/N covers her eyes with her arm. “Don’t yell in my ear.”

“I whispered.” Harry counters, but his voice is a bit quieter this time. “Do you have a headache?”

“I didn’t know something flavoured with watermelon could make me feel so shitty.” Y/N groans a bit, shifting on the bed without opening her eyes. “What did you do to me?”

When Harry laughs, it’s not audible, but Y/N can feel it through his chest pressed against her side.

“How are you completely fine right now?” She asks, rubbing her eyes.

“I’m used to it. I’ve always been way better with hangovers than you.” Harry presses a small kiss to her shoulder before getting up. “How does breakfast in bed sound?”

“Normally amazing, but I can’t eat right now.” Y/N mutters. “How about coffee in bed?”

“Sure.” Harry smiles a bit. “You look cute like this.”

“Shut up.”

Harry returns ten minutes later with a tray of coffee, toast, and eggs, of which he manages to coax Y/N to take a few bites. She doesn’t really want it, but she knows it’s easier to do as he says instead of arguing.

“How about we have a movie day today?” Harry suggests after breakfast. “In bed, since it seems like you won’t be moving anytime soon.”

“And who’s fault is that?” Y/N glares at him from the top of her coffee cup.

Harry raises his hands in defense. “Hey, I didn’t make you drink. You chose to.”

“I know, but it’s easier to blame you.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Is that why you’ve been doing it for twenty years?”

“Exactly.”

Harry carefully lifts the empty tray to the ground before holding up the remote. “You can pick the movies.”

Y/N bites her lip. “If we watch Titanic, will you make fun of me when I cry?”

“Of course not. I’ll even cry with you out of solidarity.”

“Alright.” Y/N settles back into the blankets. “Put it on, then.”

It’s easy for them to be like this, Y/N thinks, as Harry pulls her into his arms when the movie starts. It’s always been so natural for them to be physical and affectionate with each other. They’ve never acted any other way.

Except this doesn’t feel like any other way.

Yes, Y/N has watched countless movies while cuddling in bed with Harry. But has he ever whispered in her ear like that before? Has he ever rubbed her sides so carefully before? Has he ever let his lips rest on the bare skin of her shoulder, almost at the base of her neck?

Y/N can’t recall. However, she’s certain that if he had, it hasn’t felt so electric.

“Look at them. Look at how Jack watches her.” Harry murmurs his words directly in Y/N’s ear as they watch Jack draw Rose. Y/N can feel his lips brushing against her, and the heat of his breath and tone of his voice makes her shiver.

“She’s very pretty.” Y/N nods, shifting in Harry’s arms. She likes how warm he feels.

“I suppose, but that’s not what I meant.” Harry traces shapes on her arm. “I meant look at how he looks at her. Do you think they have the kind of love you talked about last night?”

Y/N glances over her shoulder at him, surprised he remembers their conversation. “I think so. Do you?”

“Yeah.” Harry says in a low voice. He says no more, so Y/N turns back to face the television.

They continue to watch in silence, gripping each other a bit tighter as the Titanic begins to sink. As they watch a mother reading to her two young children in bed, Y/N begins to lose her composure, like always. Tears well in her eyes, and she lets out a quiet hitched breath, a single sniffle.

“It’s alright, love.” Harry’s hands move to her stomach, holding her tighter to comfort her. “Don’t cry.”

Y/N can hear the tears in his voice, just as they’re in her own. “Can’t help it. This part and the band and the old couple in bed—they always get me.”

“I know.” Harry rubs his thumb along your side.

Y/N reaches behind her without turning around, threading her fingers through Harry’s messy curls. She plays with them absentmindedly as she watches, and tries to ignore how right it feels to be close to him like this. She wonders if he notices it, too.

Harry presses a chaste kiss to her shoulder.

…

The day they hit the one month mark of quarantine, Harry sits across from Y/N at breakfast with a determined look on his face.

“I have a proposition for you.”

Y/N glances up at him, her attention barely shifting from her book. “A proposition?”

“Yeah.”

“What kind of proposition?” Y/N tilts her head to the side. What she first thought was just determination on Harry’s face, she realizes, is actually determination and mischief, and she knows it won’t end well.

“I haven’t had a tattoo in a while.” Harry steals a strawberry from Y/N’s plate. “And I have a machine here, so I was thinking you could give me one.”

Y/N stares at Harry incredulously as he pops the strawberry in his mouth. “Are you out of your mind?”

“Probably.”

“I’m a terrible artist, Harry. You know that.” Y/N shakes her head. “And even if I wasn’t, I have no idea how to tattoo someone!”

“You can watch a YouTube tutorial, or read a WikiHow.” Harry sighs loudly. “I’m so bored in isolation!”

“What do you even want tattooed?” Y/N eyes the intricate tattoos on his arms suspiciously. “I doubt I could do something like your ship.”

“Something simple.” He shrugs. “Probably lettering.”

“Probably?” Y/N says suspiciously.

“That’s why I want you to do it. I want it in your handwriting.”

Harry’s tone is easy, but it makes her breathing shallow.

“You do?”

“Yeah. I was thinking of something to remind me of this time, because of how weird it is.”

Despite her increased heartbeat, Y/N laughs. “What, do you want me to tattoo COVID-19 on you?”

“No. Be a little more creative than that.” Harry scoffs.

“Why do I have to be creative?”

“Because I want you to decide what I get.”

Y/N’s eyes widen. “You’re not serious.”

“I am! Why is that so hard to believe?” Harry asks. “I trust you. And you’re good with words.”

“No. Absolutely not.”

…

“Make sure my drink has two shots in it.” Y/N calls to Harry as she looks over the tattoo supplies on the living room table.

Harry laughs. “I’m not sure I want my tattoo artist to be drunk.”

“The only way I’ll even be your tattoo artist is if I’m drunk.” She counters. “I still think this is an awful idea.”

Harry hands Y/N a tall glass with a light pink liquid in it. “Drink this, and you’ll change your mind.”

Y/N takes the glass and takes a large gulp, not focusing on the taste of the mixers, but the liquid courage behind them.

Harry grins, lifting his own glass. “Cheers.”

“Shut up and sit down.” Y/N mutters. She ties her hair back before grabbing the disinfectant wipes. “Where do you want this?”

“My upper inner arm. I already shaved it for you.” Harry smirks as he points to the area, which is easily exposed in his loose tank top.

“And you’re sure I can write it with pen?” Y/N asks nervously as she disinfects the area.

“Mhmm.” Harry leans back comfortably in his chair. “What did you decide on?”

“It’s a secret.” Y/N uncaps the pen, getting closer to him.

“So I can’t know until after it’s on me permanently?”

“Is that a problem?” Y/N asks innocently. “I thought you trusted me?”

Harry chuckles. “I did say that, didn’t I?”

“Also that I’m good with words.” Y/N makes sure Harry’s head is turned away before she carefully writes the phrase she chose. Then she snaps on gloves and starts the machine like she watched in videos early that day.

“You’re fine, love.” Harry assures her, seeing the nervous look on her face. “It’s a small tattoo. It’ll only take a few minutes.”

“Quiet.” Y/N mutters. “I need to focus.”

True to Harry’s word, the small tattoo only takes a few minutes to finish. When it’s done, Y/N gives it one final wipe before setting the machine down and taking off her gloves.

“Alright.” She picks up her glass and drains it completely. “You can look.”

Harry peers at his arm, curiosity clear on his face. There, in Y/N’s loopy handwriting is the phrase “touch me.”

“It looks so fucking good, Y/N.” Harry grins at her. “You did amazing!”

“I didn’t fuck it up?” She asks, chewing on her lip anxiously. “Is it alright?”

“You did a lovely job.” Harry smiles. “Wrap it for me?”

Y/N does as he asks, carefully wrapping the fresh tattoo in plastic wrap and taping it to his arm. “I think I’ll accept my tip in the form of another drink.”

Harry snickers. “Coming right up.”

Two drinks later, they’re both back in the honest and loose headspace that they’ve grown familiar with. It’s not enough that they’re unaware of their actions, but both Y/N and Harry know that their lips are looser because of the liquor in their systems.

They’ve migrated to the bedroom to get comfier, but took a few items from the bar with them. It’s with these items that Harry tops up Y/N’s glass again as he speaks.

“So tell me…” He sets the cocktail shaker on his bedside table. “Why ‘touch me’?”

“You said you wanted something to remind you of isolation.” Y/N takes a long sip of her drink. “And that’s what we both miss the most, right? Being touched?”

Harry nods slowly, his rings clinking against his glass. “Yeah. I’m probably going to go straight to the bars after this is all done. Find someone there.”

He laughs lightly, showing that what he says it half a joke, but Y/N sighs wistfully and shakes her head in disagreement. “I won’t.”

“You won’t?” Harry is surprised, his laughter fading. “Why not?”

Her shrug almost causes her to spill her drink on the bed. “I don’t know.” Y/N sighs again. “I don’t really—I’m not a hookup fan. Not right now, at least. It’s not what I…want.”

“What do you want, then?” Harry finishes his drink, but sets the glass down instead of refilling it. “If not sex?”

“I want sex.” Y/N says defensively. “But I want—I don’t want it to be someone random. I want sex, but I want to be…intimate. Like, I want to know that person cares about me, and I care about them.”

Harry licks the last of his drink from his lips. “Like that breathless feeling?”

“No. It would be nice, but no. That takes time.” Y/N brushes her hair behind her ear. “Just…someone who cares. I don’t want a quick fuck, I just—”

“You want to be touched. Intimately touched.” Harry takes the empty glass from Y/N’s hand and sets it down on the table next to the bed.

Y/N nods gently, her limbs feeling loose. “Yeah. Intimately touched.”

“You know, I could…” Harry trails off, pursing his lips. “We could…do that.”

The alcohol makes Y/N slow to recognize the meaning of his words. “What?”

“I’ve noticed you…the way you look at me, it’s…different than it was.” Harry says carefully, his eyes gauging her reaction. “For the last few weeks. And I—I know that I’m…attracted to you, too.”

“We…” Y/N struggles to think of what to say as she finally registers what’s happening. “We’re friends.”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean I can’t see you as attractive.” Harry looks down at his hands. “Don’t you…? I mean…”

“I—yeah. I think you’re—” Y/N laughs a bit nervously. “You’re attractive, H, you know that. We’ve just never…discussed it.”

“I’m not saying we have to fuck, or—we don’t have to do anything.” Harry straightens his shoulders and looks you in the eye. “Just—when we touch, it’s mild. If you want to be touched intimately, we could…”

“Like, a hand job?” Y/N says slowly, her words blunt with confusion.

Harry goes a bit red, but he shakes his head quickly. “No, Christ, that’s not what I meant, I—just—can I show you?”

“Um,” Y/N swallows hard. “Sure.”

“Okay.” Harry nods slightly, taking carefully measured breaths. “If this feels weird, or anything seems wrong, just tell me to stop, alright?”

Y/N replies faintly. “Alright.”

Nodding again, Harry moves closer on the bed, sitting on his knees so he can get closer to Y/N, who sits cross-legged. His hands rest lightly on her bare thighs, and his rings are a cool contrast to his warm skin.

Harry begins to rub his hands up and down her thighs slowly. His movements are measured, and he watches Y/N’s reaction carefully for a sign of her disliking his actions. However, what he finds is a nervous but interested girl staring back at him.

“Like this. Like, what you like.” Harry says lowly. His hands move more to her inner thighs, but they don’t creep higher. “And…”

“And…?” Y/N asks, her heart rate increasing even more.

Harry moves one hand to the hem of Y/N’s tank top, pushing it up a bit so his hand can rest on her waist. He rubs over her warm skin, marvelling in how smooth and soft it is to his touch. His fingers graze the lace of her bra, but he goes no higher.

“How—how’s that?” Harry asks quietly.

“It’s, um, it’s good.” Y/N replies as she struggles to keep her voice normal. “Yeah. Good. But, um, can you…” Harry’s movements pause at her words, and Y/N feels her cheeks get even warmer. “Maybe touch my, uh, my neck. If you’d like.”

Harry nods, and the hand on her thigh moves to her neck. He traces his fingers across her shoulder and over her collarbone, delighting in feeling the curves of her body. Y/N’s breath hitches when his fingers travel up her neck, and Harry swears he can feel her pulse increase under his fingers.

Y/N’s not sure if it’s the fact that she’s touch starved from self isolating that makes Harry’s touches feel so good, or if it’s the fact that it’s Harry touching her, but she doesn’t dwell on it. Instead, she closes her eyes and tilts her head back, allowing him better access.

She feels Harry’s breath before she feels his lips, but she’s still surprised when she feels him begin to sponge light kisses across her neck.

“H…”

“Is this alright?” He asks the question right below her ear, and yet she can barely hear him because he’s so quiet.

“Yes.” Y/N breathes. “Yeah.”

“Good.” Harry returns to pressing light kisses to her skin, his hands still rubbing over her sides and hips.

For the first time since seeing Harry naked in her bathroom, Y/N can’t deny or explain away her attraction to him. She can’t convince herself that she doesn’t want him to touch her, because she does, and she can’t tell herself that she doesn’t need him, because she does. Every fibre of her being is telling her that she needs Harry, and she needs him now. Her heart is pounding, her skin is on fire, and her core feels like she’d going to explode if he doesn’t do something. And yet, Y/N can’t tell him to touch her more. She’s frozen, mind blank, and she can only register what Harry is doing at the moment as what she wants.

Harry continues to kiss her neck, never lingering too long in one spot, never sucking too hard. Every kiss is gentle and chaste, except the few rare ones that include the tip of his tongue running over her skin.

After what feels like an eternity, Harry pulls away from her neck, face flushed. Despite his hands still on her body, Y/N makes an involuntary sound in the back of her throat.

“Is that better?” He asks lowly, rubbing his thumb against your hip.

“I—kind of.” Y/N says softly. If anything, she thinks, it’s worse. She needs to satisfy the burn inside her, but she doesn’t know how.

“Good.” Harry replies, but he doesn’t take his hands off her.

Y/N’s own hands have been sitting at her sides as his moved over her body, but she raises one now, as hesitant as Harry was. She extends it towards his arm, but pauses with her fingers right over his skin.

“Is it okay if I…?”

The corner of Harry’s lips lifts up, just barely. “Yeah, love. Go ahead.”

Harry’s skin is warm beneath her touch. Y/N traces the outline of his mermaid tattoo carefully before moving onto others. She loves how his arm curves under her touch, how he stays still and lets her explore. She appreciates it, thinking that if Harry made any sudden movements, she’d force herself to pull away.

Soon, her fingers move from tracing his tattoos to tracing the lines of his muscles. She moves down his forearm to his hand, running her fingers over the veins that show through his tan skin, over his knuckles, down the tips of his calloused fingers and back.

Harry sucks in a breath, and Y/N’s trance flickers for a moment as her eyes move to his face to see what’s wrong.

“Sorry, just—surprised me.” Harry says, voice low yet sheepish. He nods down to his thigh, where Y/N realizes her own hand is resting.

“Oh—” She moves to pull her hand away, but Harry places his own on top.

“It’s fine.” He says quickly. “Keep going.”

Y/N bites her lip as she turns her attention back to his arm. Her fingers move slowly and carefully back up his forearm to his upper arm. She traces over his tattoos while she rubs her thumb gently against the muscle, and stops her fingers at the edge of his t-shirt sleeve. With a quick glance at Harry, she pushes the sleeve up, tucking it up on his shoulder so she can run her fingers over his ship tattoo, which is one of her favourites.

“Feels nice.” Harry murmurs, his eyes following her movements.

Y/N glances back at his face, taking in his appearance. His lips are red from the time he spent kissing her neck, and his cheeks are still flushed. His eyes are darker than usual, and she’s not certain if it’s the candlelight or something else causing it. There’s a light sheen of sweat on his forehead, with a few loose curls hanging down. Out of reflex, Y/N reaches up and pushes his hair back out of his eyes.

Before she can return her hand to his arm, Harry captures it in his own. Y/N watches as he brings it to his lips, inhaling as her wrist passes underneath his nose. Although she’s not sure why, there’s something about seeing how much smaller her hand is in Harry’s that delights her.

Harry presses a soft kiss to her wrist, following it up with another on her palm. Y/N’s eyelids flutter at the tender sensation.

“It’s my turn to touch you.” She says softly, her voice strained.

Harry hums in reply. “I know.” He kisses your wrist once more before looking at you. “I’ll help.”

Lifting his hand from his thigh (your hand, which was underneath, stays where it is), he pulls up his shirt just enough that he can sneak your hand underneath. He rests it on his lower chest, and even though his shirt is still partially covering him, Y/N knows she’s touching his butterfly tattoo.

“I like to be touched here.” Harry says in the same low voice.

“Okay.” Y/N bites her lip, her head swimming with alcohol and the smell of the candles and Harry’s cologne and Harry. “It…would be easier without your shirt.”

Without breaking eye contact, save for the moment fabric covers him, Harry pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it to the side. “Better?”

Y/N’s eyes drift down to his tanned stomach. His body is familiar and a stranger to her all at once. She knows his tattoos, scars, every mark on his skin from a distance, but seeing it like this—touching it like this—makes her feel like she’s never truly seen him before.

“Better.” She manages to say, her hand brushing across his ribs.

Y/N spends a while exploring the planes of his stomach, the contours of his body. When she gets to his v-lines, and runs her fingers over the ferns tattooed there, Harry shivers a bit, his hand gripping her knee tighter.

Y/N massages his thigh gently. “Alright?”

“Yeah.” Harry clears his throat. “I’m good.”

“Okay.” Y/N nods, but moves her hand further up again, over his chest and over his collar bones. She takes a moment to trace the lines of his neck, feel the beat if his pulse underneath her fingers, and then tangles her fingers in his hair. She uses the leverage to tilt his head back a bit, and presses her lips to the base of his neck.

Harry’s cologne smells better up close, and Y/N adores the heat of his skin on her sensitive lips. She presses small kisses over the curve of his neck, pausing over his jugular. Her tongue darts out and she carefully licks along it before ending the motion with a kiss.

“Christ…” Harry exhales slowly, the tips of his fingers digging into her knee slightly.

Y/N knows they’re crossing the threshold of just touching each other for the sake of touching. She can feel herself dripping in her panties, and when her eyes flicker down, she can see the outline of Harry’s half hard cock in his shorts. Together, they’ve reached the border of friends helping each other out, and she’s certain that she wants to cross it with him. However, she’s not sure if they should.

Pulling back enough to look Harry in the eyes, Y/N clears her throat. “H, we—what are we doing?”

Harry waits a moment to answer. “I…I don’t know. I have no fucking clue.”

“This isn’t friendly anymore.” Y/N’s voice drops to a whisper. “It’s not just—it’s intimate, yeah, but it’s more…” Her eyes move to the outline of his hardening cock once more before looking back up at his face. “It’s more.”

“Yeah. It’s more.” Harry moves his hand further up her thigh again, rubbing slow circles. “But I don’t want to stop.”

Y/N sucks in a breath. “You don’t?”

“It’s been so long since…” Harry trails off, his gaze drifting down to your lips before returning to your eyes. “And it’s you. I’ve always wondered if—we—”

“I’ve wondered, too.” Y/N admits, her voice filled with nerves. Are they really discussing this? “Especially since that day, in the bathroom—”

“I wondered if you looked then.” Harry’s voice drops lower (which Y/N didn’t think was possible). “I thought about it later that day. I—fuck, I wanted you to look.”

A small noise escapes the back of Y/N’s throat. “This—we’ve been drinking, and—it’s the alcohol, H. Neither of us is thinking straight.”

“This isn’t the alcohol talking. I’ve thought about—when we’re in the pool, when we cuddle, when we flirt, I—I can’t help it.” Harry closes his eyes for a brief moment, like he’s collecting himself. “I need you. And I think…I think you need me too.”

“I do. I need you.” Y/N touches his stubbled jaw with careful fingers. “But we’re friends. This is going to change that.”

“We don’t know that.” Harry leans into her touch. “You said before that you wanted someone you’re comfortable with, something intimate, something breathless. You and I are comfortable, and intimate, and—I don’t know. All I know for sure is that I want you.”

Y/N isn’t sure if he means he wants her in a purely physical way or something more, and while she knows she should clarify that, all she can focus on is his voice and the way it’s going straight to her core.

“I want you, too.” She says simply.

Harry brings his hand to Y/N’s hip. “Can I kiss you?”

Y/N nods. She’s not sure she’s capable of giving a verbal response.

Harry takes it upon himself to lean closer, his fingertips digging into Y/N’s skin in a way she adores. He pauses, hovering just above her lips for a moment, as if to give her time to pull away. Instead, Y/N just waits in anticipation, delighting in the feeling of his breath running over her skin.

When he kisses her, Y/N tastes alcohol, mint, and what she swears is her own heart in the back of her throat.

Any previous kisses she’s shared with Harry have been half kisses, given in teenage games of truth or dare and in a friend’s parent’s basement. Those kisses were safe, guarded, and an obligation. This kiss is the exact opposite.

Although it starts chaste, it quickly grows more passionate. Y/N can’t stop herself from tugging on Harry’s hair more than she imagines Harry can stop himself from rucking up the hem of her tank top. His fingers dip under the band of her lace bralette as she nips at his lip, tugging slightly, delighted when a strangled sound echoes from the back of his throat.

Within minutes, Y/N’s allowed Harry to pull her to straddle his lap, his hands grabbing at her hips with a neediness she’s never seen him exhibit before. Of course, she feels the same way, and she lets her hand run down his chest over and over, using her nails a little more each time. Although there’s no one around to see, no party to return to, nowhere to go, Y/N wants to leave a mark. She wants anyone who sees his chest to know that he belongs to her.

Harry breaks away from her, lips red, eyes frenzied, and breathing heavy. “Can I—?” His hands tug on the hem of her top, tugging in question.

Y/N lifts her arms in response, letting him pull it off and toss it to the side. Harry moves back in to kiss her again, but she keeps her arms up, giving him a long look.

“You’re not done.” She says simply.

He understands right away, and his fingers find the band of her bralette again. This time, however, he removes it slower, almost as if the removal is ritual itself, and his hands are less frantic when they return to your skin.

Harry looks at Y/Nu with wide eyes, and she understands the meaning in them: this is so much more than just touching, and so much more than two friends using each other for mutual pleasure. With every touch, they further cross a line, and neither of them can stop.

With this realization, Harry’s movements become more cautious. His hands come to rest on her sides, his thumbs just brushing the side of her breast.

“You’re fine.” Y/N assures him in a soothing voice. “Keep going.”

“Are you fine?” He counters, his voice an equal mix of concern and need.

“H.” Y/N takes his hands in her own and places them over her breasts. “Like that. Touch me like that.”

Harry sucks in a short breath as she manipulates his hands, showing him how to rub her and touch her. After a few moments, she lets her hands move to his neck, pulling him in for another kiss.

Y/N begins to grind against him, desperate for a bit of friction. Their kisses are soon accented with their moans as they each pull the other closer in lust and need.

Still, underneath the physical desires, there’s a current running between them. Y/N knows it’s been there for the last few weeks, humming quietly in the back of her mind, but being here, now, with Harry touching her, it’s come alive like an electric fence. She can’t turn it off, and she doesn’t want to. She doesn’t want to in the slightest.

Harry begins to kiss down her neck like before, but this time his kisses are anything but chaste. When he reaches her breast, he kisses around them before taking one of her nipples into his mouth.

“Oh fuck—” Y/N arches her back, fingers tangling in his hair to pull him closer. “Harry…”

He hums against her, and his spare hand rubs her back like he does when they get ready to sleep. Usually, the motion is calming, but right now, Y/N feels anything but calm.

Harry continues until he’s satisfied with his work, and then he kisses his way to her other breast, wrapping his lips against her other nipple. He spends just as much time on that one, letting his teeth graze it ever so slightly before soothing the action with his tongue.

When he pulls back, there’s a little line of spit connecting Harry’s mouth to her nipple, and Y/N whimpers at the sight.

“H…” She runs her finger through the line before gripping his chin with her thumb and forefinger. The need inside her builds, as does her fondness for the man in front of her. “God…”

Harry tweaks her hard nipple with his finger, gentle enough so as not to hurt her, but enough to make a gasp fall from her mouth. He offers no response in the form of words, but the hungry look in his eyes has only increased.

“Let me…” Y/N climbs off of his lap, gently pushing him to lay back on the bed. “Yeah?”

Harry runs a hand through his messy curls, nodding quickly. “You want that?”

“Yeah.” Y/N nods too, pressing a wet kiss to his swollen lips. “So bad. Yeah.”

Her hands move to the waistband of his shorts, and Harry lifts his hips off the bed. Y/N tugs down his boxers in the same movement, and tosses both articles of clothing to the side before looking back at him.

Harry’s cock is just as beautiful as she remembers it being the morning she accidentally walked in on him. Even more so, she thinks, because now he’s hard, and the head is the most appetizing shade of pink, with drops of precum pearling at the top. When Y/N wraps her hand around his girth, she adores the heat that she feels.

“So pretty…” She says the words almost to herself, and strokes him lightly to get used to the feeling of him in her hand. “I just want to…”

Y/N leans down and flicks her tongue over his tip, collecting the precum gathered there. In return, a strangled moan leaves Harry’s throat as his arm moves to cover his eyes for a moment.

Y/N presses a kiss to the head of his cock before she continues licking, reveling in the sounds Harry makes. She had no doubt, with a voice as angelic as his, that his moans and whines and whimpers would be just as beautiful.

When she wraps her lips around the head and sucks, she feels Harry’s hand move to her hair. She looks up at him without lifting off of his cock, staring him in the eye as she takes more and more of him into her mouth.

“Fuck—” Another moan leaves Harry’s lips, more strained than the last. “That’s it…” He tugs on her hair, but doesn’t push her down. Even when lost in pleasure, he’s careful with her.

Y/N loves him for it.

Pacing herself, she takes more and more of him into her mouth until her nose is pressed to the base of his stomach, brushing against his (neatly trimmed) pubic hair. She stays down for just a moment before pulling up completely to breathe, but keeps her hand on him, stroking him slowly.

“You look so good.” Harry mutters, running his hands over her hair in a soothing motion. “I imagined it, but didn’t think…so much better…”

Y/N moves to push her head back down, but Harry stops her, bringing her up for a kiss instead.

“I want to taste you, now.” He tells her, laying her down on the pillows. “Is that alright?”

Y/N nods desperately, feeling even more heat rush to her core and pool there. “Mhmm.”

Harry kisses his way down her body again, slipping his fingers into the waistband of her shorts. He leaves her panties on as he pulls the shorts down, and lets out a low groan at the sight of her pink Calvin Klein panties, and more specifically, the dark pink spot that’s apparent on them.

“You’re soaked…” He presses a kiss to her sensitive inner thigh before brushing a finger over the wet spot.

Y/N jumps a bit, making a sound in the back of her throat. “Harry!”

“Sorry.” He kisses her thigh again. “I’m sorry. Just relax, yeah? It’s just me. I got you.”

Harry continues to kiss along her inner thighs, moving closer and closer to the thin cloth covering her center. When he presses his first kiss to the fabric, Y/N grasps the sheets in her hands.

“God…” She whispers, fists clenched.

Harry reaches up and takes one of her hands, placing it in his hair wordlessly before kissing over her again, his tongue peaking out just a bit.

The torture continues for what feels like forever, with Harry teasing her over the soaked fabric of her panties. Finally, Y/N sighs in relief as she feels his hands grip the fabric, and she lifts her hips eagerly as he tugs the article of clothing down.

The first thing she feels is his hot breath hitting her core, which is enough to make her legs reflexively close with pleasure. Harry’s hand grips her leg, pushing them back open as he takes in the sight of her dripping cunt before him.

“Fuck…” He inhales deeply, committing her scent to memory. “Your pussy is so gorgeous.”

Y/N whimpers at his words and tugs on his curls. “Please, H…I need you.”

“Need me?” Harry asks in a husky voice, his finger touching her outer lips just barely.

“Yes!” Y/N whines, not caring how she sounds. “Never needed anything more…”

Harry runs his finger over her slit, collecting the wetness dripping from her. YN moans loudly at the contact, not fully relieved but grateful for the light touch.

“So fucking wet.” Harry’s voice sounds not completely his own. “Fuck, Y/N, how are you so wet?”

Y/N feels heat rush to her cheeks, and she mumbles her reply in what’s almost an embarrassed voice. “You know exactly how.”

“Don’t even know what to do first.” Harry ignores her reply, lost in his own world as he continues stroking her slit. “Just want…”

He presses into her without warning, and Y/N arches her back off the bed as Harry’s finger slips into her cunt. His cold rings touch the top of her entrance as Harry pauses inside her, his eyes heavy with lust.

“And so tight.” He moans, biting his lip hard enough to leave a mark. “Oh my God…”

He curves his finger inside her, wanting to feel every inch of her that he can. Y/N continues to whimper above him.

“More.” She begs him, pushing back against his finger. “I can take more, Harry, please.”

Harry easily slips enough finger in, repeating his motion as she pushes back on him. However, the pressure building inside Y/N disappears abruptly as his fingers do, and she’s just about to get angry at him when she feels his tongue replace his fingers.

“Fuck!” She exclaims loudly, her eyes closing as she throws her head back. “Harry—!”

Harry moves his tongue in and out of her, loving the taste of her juices in his mouth. He moves further up to her clit, licking and sucking over the sensitive bundle of nerves as Y/N writhes above him.

“Taste so good.” He growls from between her thighs. “Fuck, Y/N…you’re going to cum for me, yeah?” He asks as he reaches up and grips her hands in his, interlocking their fingers. “Tell me you’re going to cum for me.”

Another strangled moan leaves Y/N’s mouth as he speaks. “I-I’m so close, Harry. Keep going, please.”

“Tell me.” He demands, licking over her clit again. “Tell me you’re going to cum for me.”

Y/N grinds against his tongue as she grips his hands tighter. “I’m going—fuck—I’m going to cum for you, H. I’m going—”

Harry sucks hard on her clit, and Y/N throws her head back as an orgasm hits her harder than ever before. Her thighs clench shut, trapping Harry’s head between them, but he just continues to lap at the juices flowing from her cunt while making the most obscene sounds Y/N has ever heard.

Harry doesn’t pull back until Y/N unclenches her thighs, and before he does, he presses one last kiss to her clit, making her flinch.

Y/N is so exhausted she can barely open her eyes. Once she does, however, and sees Harry, she feels all the exhaustion fade.

Harry’s lips are, somehow, even more red than before, and his whole chin is slick with her wetness. He keeps licking his lips, like he can’t get enough of the taste, and Y/N feels like her whole body is on fire.

“Harry…” She whispers, squeezing his hand again. She doesn’t know what else to say.

Harry lifts himself over her body, which is still shaking from her orgasm, and kisses her gently. She can taste herself on his mouth, and she adores it.

“You taste so fucking good.” He murmurs, pressing his sweaty forehead against hers. “Like candy.”

Y/N swallows hard. “I haven’t—no one’s done that in a long time.”

“I’ll be glad to do it again.” Harry replies, brushing her hair back. “But right now…all I want to do is make love to you.” He looks at her with sincere eyes. “Will you let me?”

The tenderness of him asking almost brings tears to her eyes, and Y/N nods, her hands coming up to cup his rosy cheeks. “Yeah, H. I’m…” She bites her lip as she realizes the truth of her words. “I’m yours. Always.”

Harry inhales sharply before kissing her softly, his hands stroking her hair in a comforting fashion again. “How do you want to…?”

“I want you on top.” Y/N replies, touching his swallow tattoos. “I-I want to feel you. Feel your weight. Feel you close.”

With a nod, Harry positions himself over her, spreading her legs wide enough that his body can fit between. He holds himself up with one hand and uses the other to guide his cock to Y/N’s folds, just brushing the head over them. He’s teasing himself just as much as her.

“Harry…” Y/N leans her head back at the sensation. “Please, H…”

“I don’t—wait—” Harry pauses his movements, and Y/N can see on his face the strength and discipline it takes for him to do so. “I—a condom—”

“I’m clean, and I have an IUD.” Y/N assures him, running her hand along his shoulders. “Are you?”

Harry nods. “Yeah, I am, but—are you sure?”

As Y/N looks into his eyes, the love and concern and want written all over them, she knows she’s never been more sure of anything in her life. “I want to feel you, without anything in between. I—” She takes a deep breath and presses a kiss to his jaw. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

Harry presses a kiss to her forehead, and the tender action makes Y/N close her eyes as she revels in the feeling. A moment later, Harry moves down again and puts his forehead against hers as he pushes into her.

The moment he enters her, Y/N feels a fullness she’s never experienced before. Not only is Harry stretching her cunt in a way that feels euphoric, but she feels complete. He’s as close to her as he’s ever been, his breath is mingling with hers, his body weight is held over her carefully, and Y/N thinks she could die in the pleasure of this moment happily.

“Y/N…baby…” The pet name seems to fall easily from Harry’s lips as he bottoms out, holding himself still to adjust to the feeling. “Oh my God…”

Y/N digs her fingernails into Harry’s shoulders, pressing kisses to his lips between gasps for breath. “Move, H, please.”

Harry begins to thrust his hips, setting a slow but deep pace before gradually speeding up. While part of Y/N wishes he would thrust as fast as he can, a deeper part of her is grateful that Harry is taking his time with her. This feeling, now that she has it, is better than anything she’d ever felt before, and Y/N doesn’t want it to end anytime soon.

Harry kisses Y/N again as he moves inside her. Although they’re as close as they’ve ever been, each of them keeps pulling the other closer. As Harry thrusts deeper, Y/N pulls more of his weight down on her. As Y/N scratches her nails down his back, Harry kisses her jaw. Neither of them can process exactly what they’re doing, but neither of them can stop. Each touch is tender, each kiss is passionate, and each moment brings them closer together in so many more ways than just physical.

They don’t speak except for the occasional whisper from Y/N for Harry to move faster, or the occasional moan of Y/N’s name falling from Harry’s lips. The only constant sounds in the room are of the slickness between Y/N’s thighs as Harry moves between them, the sound of his skin meeting hers, both of them panting and moaning, and a few whispers of “please” that are barely audible. Despite the lack of speech, however, the two are in constant communication. Kissing, biting, scratching, and squeezing have become the vocabulary of their new language. When Harry looks into Y/N’s wet eyes, he knows that she feels something running through the very depths of her being. When Y/N feels Harry tuck his head between her neck and her shoulder as he whimpers, she knows that he trusts her to comfort him and hold him there.

Soon, Y/N feels the waves of pleasure begin to build, and she knows that when they finally break, they’ll pull her under. “H, I—fuck—I—” She can’t manage to form the sentence she needs to.

Harry, however, can tell exactly what she’s going to say. “Please.” He pants, adoring how she buries her head into his shoulder. “Please, love, cum for me…” He kisses over the shell of her ear as he thrusts deeper. “Need you.”

Y/N whimpers, biting down on Harry’s shoulder as her orgasm rolls over her. Harry feels her walls tighten around his cock, but he doesn’t slow down, and he works her through her climax until she whines in his ear.

“So good, H…” Y/N can barely find the strength to whisper the phrase.

Hearing her sound so fucked out, feeling her cunt squeezing him, and seeing the euphoria on her face is enough to bring Harry to the edge. He slows his thrusts, about to pull out, but Y/N presses on his back to keep him close.

Harry groans as a shiver rolls through his body. “I’m about to cum, Y/N—”

“Stay inside me.” She pleads, pressing the pads of her fingers between his shoulder blades. “I-I’m yours, Harry, I told you. Yours.”

Y/N looks up at him with such trusting and vulnerable eyes that Harry can’t make himself argue with her. He nods instead, his thrusts increasing in speed again until he feels himself reach the edge of pleasure.

As he freefalls into Y/N, his hips stutter, and he presses deep inside her while her name falls from his lips over and over again. He can’t think of anything else to say. He can’t think of anything else worth saying.

When Harry finally manages to pull himself together enough to pull out, Y/N instantly feels the emptiness inside her. She wishes he would stay, but knows that it’s not practical, and instead just relishes in the feeling of his cum dripping from her entrance. It’s like he’s claimed her as his, left a physical mark of himself, and Y/N doesn’t have the strength to stop herself from loving it.

They lay in silence for a few moments, trying to catch their breath and regain a sense of where they are. Both Harry and Y/N are sweaty, exhausted, and covered in each other in more ways than one. The wrap on Harry’s tattoo has slipped from his arm. Somewhere in their pleasure, Y/N has lost an earring. And yet, the only thing each of them cares about is looking at the other.

Out of instinct, Harry pulls Y/N’s shivering body into his, wrapping his arms around her tightly. He can’t imagine she’s cold, and Y/N can’t bring herself to tell him she’s shivering because of the feeling of being so close to him, but neither of them denies the other of the affectionate gesture.

Y/N loses track of how long they lay there until Harry breaks the silence.

“I—” His voice cracks, and he clears it quickly before trying again. “I’ll get you a cloth to—to clean you up.”

Y/N nods, and Harry gently untangles himself from her before going to the bathroom. Y/N can hear the running of water, and turns her head to see what he’s doing, but when she spots his naked silhouette, she closes her eyes. Despite what they just did, there’s a shyness in her still when she sees him completely stripped.

Her eyes stay closed, and she only detects his return from feeling his weight return to the bed. He places a gentle hand on her trembling knee, pulling her open ever so slightly.

“’M just cleaning you up.” Harry says in a quiet tone. “Is that okay?”

Y/N nods again. She’s not certain she has enough strength to say anything.

Harry wipes between her legs with a gentle touch, watching how she flinches at the slightest of pressure. “I’m sorry.” He says sincerely, kissing her knee tenderly before continuing. “You’re sensitive, I know. Almost done.”

Once he finishes wiping away the cum dripping out of her (his cum dripping out of her), Harry tosses the cloth onto his pile of clothes on the ground, deciding it can be dealt with later. His most pressing concern at the moment is Y/N.

He lays back down on his side so he can face her, and pushes a lock of hair away from her closed eyes.

“Y/N.” Harry murmurs, hand resting on her waist carefully. “Talk to me. Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Her voice is rough when she answers, and Harry can hear the echo of her moans in her words. “I-I’m fine, H. Just…tired.”

“Do you…” Harry bites his lip. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Y/N gives a slight shake of her head. “Maybe—maybe tomorrow, yeah?” She does her best to open one eye, but quickly shuts it again when she sees how Harry is looking at her. “Can’t right now.”

“Okay.” Harry lays his arm over her side as he moves closer. “Tomorrow.”

Y/N presses her head into his shoulder and commits the scent of his skin to memory.

…

The first thing Y/N registers when she wakes up is the feeling of someone touching her hair.

She doesn’t need to open her eyes to know it’s Harry. Of course it’s Harry. It’s always been Harry. In every way.

Y/N sighs and readjusts her position in bed, moving a bit closer to Harry. She shivers once from the cold, still naked from last night’s activities, and that’s the only hint Harry needs before he pulls the sheet up around her more.

“Are you awake?” He asks softly, careful in case she’s still lost deep in sleep.

Y/N moves her head in a passable nodding motion, and her voice is thick with sleep when she answers. “Mhmm. Barely.”

A low chuckle escapes from Harry’s mouth, and the next thing Y/N feels are his warm lips against her cheek. “How are you feeling?”

“A little hungover. A little sore.” Y/N finally opens her eyes as she speaks, and almost wishes she hadn’t.

Harry’s hair is a mess from both sex and sleep, messy and wild and haphazardly pushed out of his eyes. His cheeks are flushed, and his neck and chest are covered in marks from both Y/N’s lips and fingers. She knows that if he turned over, his back would be the same, and it embarrasses her and delights her at the same time. He looks completely fucked and content, and more relaxed than she’s seen him in ages.

Y/N wonders if she looks the same. If she looks as pretty.

“Sorry.” Harry says, his tone a bit sheepish.

“It’s not your fault.” Y/N replies, shrugging a bit.

“Well…it is, actually. I made your drinks. And I…” He trails off, brushing his fingers down her bare hip to her thigh.

“Yeah.” Y/N feels her face get warm. “I guess it is your fault.”

Harry laughs lightly, but it fades away as he looks into her eyes. “We, uh…we should probably talk about what happened.”

Y/N purses her lips. “Yeah. We should.”

“So…first question, I guess.” Harry props his head up on his arm, but keeps running his fingers over Y/N’s hip gently. “Do you regret it?”

Y/N sits up a bit more in bed, clutching the sheet to her bare chest. “No. I don’t. Do you?”

“No.” Harry replies instantly. “I don’t regret it.”

“Okay.” Y/N is so aware of Harry’s eyes on her as she thinks of her question. “Did…did you enjoy it?”

A snort falls from Harry’s mouth, and he shakes his head incredulously. “Christ, Y/N, of course I enjoyed it. It felt—you felt like heaven.”

Y/N flushes at the comment. “I’ve never…I’ve always made my partners wear condoms. So that was a first for me.”

Harry’s fingers pause over her hip, but only for a moment. It looks as though he’s deciding whether or not he should comment on that, but changes his mind at the last moment. “Did you enjoy it?” He asks instead, echoing your question.

“I did.”

“You said you were mine.”

Y/N swallows hard. This conversation is less incriminating than making love to him last night, but it seems infinitely more powerful. Probably because they’re both sober, she thinks.

“That—” She clears her throat. “That’s not a question.”

Harry sighs, but there’s an endeared smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You said you were mine. Did you mean that?”

Y/N can’t look him in the eyes, so she looks down instead. Harry’s hand lies between them, and she intertwines their fingers, playing with his rings as she carefully formulates her answer. “I’ve—I’ve always been yours, H. Ever since we were kids, I’ve belonged to you.” She runs a finger over his H ring. “Even when you were gone.”

Harry frowns a bit at the tone of her voice. “I’ve been yours too, Y/N. I belong to you just as much as you belong to me.”

“You’ve always been further out of reach.” Y/N pulls her hand from his, until their fingertips are just barely touching. “Always just…a little out of reach.”

Harry intertwines their fingers again. “I’m not out of reach. Not right now. And I’ve never—if you ever called me and said you needed me, I would’ve been on the first flight back home to you. I would’ve dropped everything for you, Y/N. I still would, and I always will.”

Tears prick Y/N’s eyes, and although she hurries to close them, one slips out. Harry catches it on his finger before it can run off her cheek, and when she looks at him again, there’s a concerned look on his face.

“C’mere.” Harry mumbles, pulling Y/N into a tight hug. He rubs her back like he always does, and the motion is so comforting that she almost forgets the vulnerable position they’re both in. “You’re my girl. You’re always going to be my girl.” He murmurs in her ear, voice low and soothing. “Always. Don’t you know that?”

Y/N nods, not trusting her voice at the moment.

“If this is too much for you…” Harry traces his fingers between her shoulder blades. Y/N thinks he’s tracing words, like they used to as children, but she can’t tell what words he may be tracing. “I understand. We can just—we can pretend it didn’t happen.”

“I—” Y/N shakes her head, looking up at Harry. “I don’t want to do that.”

“Then what do you want, Y/N?” Harry asks, his tone as pleading as it was last night. “All I’ve ever tried to do is give you what you want, and usually I’m pretty good at telling what that is, but right now, I’m lost. I don’t want things to go back to how they were, but I don’t—I can’t lose you, so just—if you just tell me what you want, I’ll do it. I’ll make it work. I promise that I won’t be mad, or hurt, or anything.”

Y/N sits up as best she can, her fingers combing through Harry’s messy curls on reflex, as she always does it when he gets upset. “I can’t pretend that I don’t want you, H. I do. I need you. I told you that last night.”

“But you’re crying.” Harry cups her wet cheek gently, rubbing his thumb along her cheekbone. “I hate that.”

Y/N leans into his touch. “It just feels…strange.” She says after a moment. “All of this. I spent so long trying to stop myself from thinking of you like this, and now that I am, I feel like—like it’s wrong.”

Harry tugs on his bottom lip with his teeth. “Does it feel wrong?”

His low voice makes her shiver. “No. It feels right. Really right.”

“I feel like…” Harry’s eyes flicker between Y/N’s own eyes and their intertwined hands. “I feel like we’re both dancing around saying it.”

Y/N sucks in a breath. “Saying what?”

“Saying…” Harry leans in and presses a soft kiss to her lips. “Saying that we’re in love with each other.”

Y/N feels breathless at the words coming from his mouth. “You’re in love with me?”

“Are you not in love with me?” He replies, moving so he’s leaning over her more. “We’ve said I love you so many times before.”

“That’s a different kind of love.” Y/N mumbles, touching the chain dangling from Harry’s neck.

“But we were both meaning something different when we were saying it. At least, I was.” Harry inhales deeply, like he’s centering himself. “I’ve known…for a while, but I’ve felt it for longer than I’ve known it. And I thought that you might…”

“I think I do.” Y/N whispers. “But saying it feels so—so permanent. Like we can’t go back to being friends if it blows up in our faces.”

Harry traces a finger down Y/N’s cheek, her neck, between her breasts, to her side, touching just below her ribs. “Maybe we can’t. But I don’t think we’ll want to, Y/N. I think we’re perfect for each other.”

Y/N’s heart pounds in her chest. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Harry nods. “This last month, it’s been like we’ve been…playing house, or something. I’ve loved it. I keep hearing from friends saying that they’re so sick of the person they’re living with, so tired of them, but I’ve never felt that way about you, and I don’t think I ever will. I’ll never get sick of you.”

Y/N laughs a bit. “That’s romantic.”

“Shut up.” Harry can’t help but smile slightly. “It is romantic.”

“Yeah. It is.” Y/N says softly, her hand rubbing over Harry’s tattooed arm. “You’re really in love with me?”

Harry nods. “I am.”

“Huh.” Y/N bites her lip. “So I guess we’ve been lying to our moms, haven’t we?”

Harry laughs loudly, collapsing on the bed next to Y/N. “Jesus, can you not mention our mums when we’re naked in bed?”

“I’m just saying! We’ve been saying for years that you’re not in love with me, and it’s all been a lie.”

“What about when they ask if you’re in love with me?” Harry’s tone is joking, but there’s a hint of nervousness in the back of his voice. “Has that been a lie, too?”

Y/N’s heart pounds as she nods. “Yeah. We’ll have to get them something really good for Mother’s Day this year to help make up for it.”

A grin spreads over Harry’s face, almost triumphant, as he leans down to kiss her. “Agreed.” He moves to cage himself over Y/N. “But I want to hear you say it.”

“Say what?”

“I want to hear you say that you’re in love with me.” Harry’s grin turns into a smirk.

Y/N flushes as she shakes her head. “You say it first.”

“I’ve already admitted it!”

“So have I!”

“Not as well as I have!”

“Oh, so it’s a competition now?” Y/N scoffs. “What a wonderful start to our relationship.”

“I’m just saying, Y/N, admitting it is the first step to—”

“Are you seriously going to say that to get me to say that I love you?”

“Just—”

“You’re so irritating—”

“I’m irritating? You—”

“You’re the worst!”

“And yet you’re in my bed with no clothes on!”

“Okay. Nope. Relationship over.” Y/N pushes Harry off of her and wraps the sheet around herself as she gets out of bed. “You blew it, Styles.”

“Y/N.” Laughter falls from Harry’s lips as he leans over the edge of the bed. “Love. Come back to bed.”

“I think a minute and thirty-seven seconds may be the record for the world’s shortest relationship.” Y/N searches her bag for some clean clothes.

“Come here!”

“Another world record for Harry Styles.” Y/N calls to him without turning around. “You must be so proud—”

Her words are cut off in a shriek as Harry picks her up, throwing her over his shoulder as he brings her back to his bed.

“Harry!” She yells, hitting his arm. “Put me down!”

Harry tosses her on the bed, gentle enough so as not to hurt her, and cages himself over her sheet-covered body. He’s still completely bare. “Take it back.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Fine. We’re still together. One less record for you.”

“Good. Now…” Harry brushes a finger over her lips. “Say you’re in love with me.”

Y/N’s laughter fades a bit as the nerves set back in. “I…”

“Please, Y/N?” Harry murmurs, leaning down to kiss her neck. “Please say it.”

“I’m—” Y/N sucks in a quick breath, and all of her protest leaves her body as she exhales. “I’m in love with you, Harry.”

She can feel Harry’s lips forming a grin against her neck. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Y/N tugs on his hair gently, just enough so she can pull his head back to look in his eyes. “Now you say it.”

“Y/N.” Harry says her name like it’s something precious. “I’m in love with you.”

A flush of pleasure crawls up Y/N’s spine at his words, but she does her best to keep her tone light-hearted. “So are you calling our moms, or am I?”

“I’ll do it.” Harry reaches for his phone on the bedside table. “And I’ll be sure to mention how it took us getting drunk and having sex to realize—”

“Harry!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell your mum we used a condom—”

“I’ll kill you, Styles, and I’ll make it look like an accident.” Y/N shoves his shoulder hard.

Harry grins at her. “Now that’s romantic.”

#feedback is appreciated and use a condom kids #harry styles oneshot #bestfriend!harry #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles preference #one direction imagine #one direction preference #one direction fic #one direction fanfiction #one direction #best friend!harry sty;es #watermelon sugar #watermelon sugar music video #fine line album

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sentinelpri · 2 years

Note

For the matchup commission! :3

So far for appearances. I have short curly wavy brown hair. From the front is longer than the back (neck). Though if you were to touch it, you’d think it’s tangled but nope it’s just very soft. But with it being soft it has a mind of its own. One day it would be crazy, other it’ll stick up and others it’ll just hang in front of my face. Furthermore, I have brown eyes but I have to wear glasses, I can’t see very far. I also have tan-colored skin. Though I am mistaken to look like a boy. Since I like to wear tomboy outfits: hoodie, sweats or basketball shorts, beanies, and even sports bras. Including the fact that I present myself more confidently than I am. Though funny thing, I am a woman and prefer she/they pronouns. Hobbies include drawing, listening to music, and games. Drawing includes mostly concept designs, I love creating new concepts for characters and stuff. Music mostly includes electro, house, rave, synth-wave, but it’s mostly anime, game, and movie soundtracks. My favorite soundtracks are from the HTTYD, Avatar (blue people(Navi)), and Fe. For Games, I enjoy playing Apex Legends, Fe, Ori and the Will of the Wisps. I play Apex Legends almost 100% of my time. (I shouldn’t be proud of that.) But those games are the only ones that just give me Serotonin, which fills me with passion and love for the game. Especially for Fe and Ori, those games had me so involved in the story so much I cried and felt as if I was there in the game. Plus the style choice for Fe is amazing. (I’m sorry I’m rambling) Work/school, so far as of now, I’m in college. Studying my butt off to get into nursing. Honestly, my whole heart doesn’t want to be into it. But logically, nurses get paid well. Though work, ehh I’m getting a part-time job as a pool clerk, so that isn’t too bad. (A little nervous though). Personality well as you can probably tell, I’m kinda anxious. But I’m confident, charming, optimistic, and loud. Though that is only unlocked if I have grown close enough to people. If someone were to meet me, first impressions would as me being funny, confident with a little bit of shyness and nervousness. With my body language being shy and stiff. (Which could be mistaken for Confidence) But if things are hitting off, the flood gates will open and there is just chaos (labeling that, I’m pretty much Chaotic Neutral.) I’m loud and bright. Sometimes hyper, to the point I speak gibberish while my brain it thinking too fast. I’m very expressive with my face and body. Though I do have a social battery. I would deflate, and become very relaxed and chill. (If life was a cartoon, at this stage I’d be a puddle). Other information well, I just really like glowing things. Like raccoons are attracted to shiny things. I’m attracted to glowing stuff. It’s just very pleasant to see something bright, shine out of the darkness. Oh and I love jellyfish, they are just tiny versions of water UFOs. So CUTE!!

Hello, friend! Thanks for commissioning me. Here's your matchup:

I'm going to pair you with... Bumblebee!

Bumblebee loves your hair and finds that he has a lot of fun playing with it whether that be when the two of you are doing something or absentmindedly when the two of you are cuddling.

He thinks that your brown eyes are pretty and that your glasses are cute... His vision is fine, but he wants a pair because you want a pair.

He loves your style and wants to go clothes shopping with you when you do go... He really wishes that they made Cybertronian sized clothing on earth.

Drawing is cool, but he’s not very good at it. Regardless, he falls a little more in love with you every time he gets to sit down and watch you draw and listen to you ramble about your character designs/concepts.

His favorite thing to do in your shared spare time and is listen to your music with you and watch you play videogames/play them with you.

Bumblebee is more than happy to help you with your studying and job hunting and everything, but if you ever decide you want to take a break for a bit or do something else, he supports that too.

He appreciates both sides of you; your optimistic, confident side and your shy, anxious side, as well as all of your facets and everything in between.

He can tell that while you seem confident on the outside you’re actually pretty shy and stiff sometimes. He doesn’t mind trying to help you blend into the settings where you get that way or even just being by you if you don’t feel like interacting with anyone.

Bumblebee is incredibly social despite the damage to his vocalizer and loves being around both Cybertronians and humans. At the same time, though, his social battery will also get low after a while and he prefers to just spend his down time with you, silent but enjoying your company while he charges that battery of his.

He, too, is easily attracted to shiny things to the point that he’s often distracted by them.

He helps you put glow stars/stickers in your room because he knows how much you like glowy things. He just pays attention to small details like that.

Bumblebee wishes he could just... buy you a jellyfish. Don’t worry, though, the two of you go to plenty of aquariums together <3

#tf #transformers #transformers prime #tfp #matchups #matchup #bumblebee #tfp bumblebee #bumblebee x reader #tfp bumblebee x reader #commission #commissions

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nastybuckybarnes · 3 years

Text

Joke’s on You

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Summary: Bucky’s fuckboy tendencies get the better of him. But you show him you’re not gonna be tossed around like a toy. This time, he gets the shit end of the stick.

Warnings: Language, Angst, Smut, Fighting, Angst,

Word Count: 4.3K

A/N: Okay fellas. Here she is. The third instalment of Gangsta. Now, this one can be read in the series or as a standalone. Based on Charlotte Lawerence’s ‘Joke’s on You’ (Both regular and acoustic.) and also on Love the Way you Lie obvi cause angst and toxic relationships hehe. I’ve got the next part almost fully written and lemme warn y’all, it’s a tearjerker. So good luck!

Gangsta

I see Red

Jokes On You

Habits (Coming soon)

~*~

“Hey, Steve.” He nods at you, arm resting on the back of the seat just behind your shoulders. “Waitin’ for him?” You nod, lips pursed as you cross your arms on the table.

The club is loud, music thumping under your feet and people chattering all around you. Your eyes scour the club, looking for James.

You feel Steve stiffen a moment before you find him, and then you realize why Steve reacted the way he did.

Bucky’s standing at the bar, flirting and chatting up a busty brunette waitress. You grind your teeth together, watching the way he looks her up and down.

“I’m sure he’s just being friendly?” Steve offers, cringing when you turn your glare on him.

“That’s the problem. If I ever get that friendly with a guy I’ll never hear the end of it. I fucking hate that this is such a double standard. I’m not gonna just sit around and watch him get with random bitches. Not anymore.” You make to stand up, halting when Steve grabs your hand.

“At least dance with me. Not someone that he’s gonna kill for no reason.” You ponder this, glancing over to your boyfriend once more and making your mind up quickly. The brunette is leaning in, her lips almost touching his face.

You grab Steve’s hand and haul him towards the dance floor, ignoring the way you can feel Bucky’s eyes on you. You spin around in Steve’s arms, pressing your back against his front and moving your hips against him.

He grips your waist, his head resting over your shoulder, lips just barely brushing the shell of your ear.

You slowly open your eyes, looking over to where Bucky’s sitting, his jaw clenched and his eyes focused on you.

The waitress is gone for the moment, but two glasses sit on the counter beside him, one of them stained with red lipstick.

He raises his eyebrows at you and you cock your head to the side before reaching over your shoulder and grabbing a handful of Steve’s hair. Bucky’s eyes flash a warning at him and you only roll your eyes in return, before tugging Steve’s head down and craning your neck back to smash your lips against his.

He’s stunned for a minute, before kissing you back with passion, his teeth grazing over your bottom lip. His hands trail up your body, cupping your breasts through the thin material of your dress and groping them roughly.

You pull away after a moment, panting hard. When you open your eye they immediately flicker to Bucky, a frown crossing your face when you see him once again talking to the brunette.

Huffing a frustrated breath, you tug out of Steve’s arms and strut over to the bar, smiling sweetly at your boyfriend.

He hardly glances at you, only giving you attention when you clear your throat.

“I uh... I should get back to my table,” the waitress says, smiling at Bucky before walking away. His eyes stay on her backside and you scoff.

“Really, James?” He shrugs, playing it cool when all he wants to do is bend you over the counter and fuck you until the only thing you remember is his name.

��Yeah. Maybe don’t come home tonight. She and I are really hitting it off. She’s got a tongue stud and said she’d let me see her nipple rings.”

You scoff again, shaking your head at him.

“Yeah, whatever. When you’re done being a prick let me know. I’m staying with Steve tonight. Maybe when you grow up a bit and can talk about whatever doubts you’re having about our relationship, then I’ll come home. But not before then.”

He watches you walk away, his heart aching and his mind racing. He doesn’t want to let you get away, but he has no choice. He can’t need you. He doesn’t want to need you. And yet here he is, needing you.

You walk up to Steve, your anger evident on your face.

“He being a dick again?” He asks, shaking his head in disappointment.

“Of fucking course he is! When is he not? God, sometimes I forget why we got together.” Steve chuckles, his hands holding your waist. “Because you guys are a match made in heaven? C’mon. I’ll take you home. I’m sure he’s just gonna get shitfaced then bum a ride from some poor defenceless college kid.” You nod, taking a deep breath but deciding that Steve’s probably right.

As you’re turning to the door, you see none other than your boyfriend leaving, one hand on the ass of the waitress as the two of them leave the club together.

“Jesus Christ he’s leaving with her,” you hiss, turning to glare at Steve.

“He’s an idiot. I’ll take you home.” You shake your head, determined to make a point.

“No. Take me to your place. He gets to go with a random bitch, fine. I’m going home with someone else too.” Steve sighs, knowing better than to argue with you when you’re in a mood like this.

The ride to his house is silent, the tension thick in the car as you stew in your anger.

Too many times has Bucky done this, pushed you away and fucked other girls, only to get mad at you whenever you attempt to do the same.

Fucking random guys would only get them killed, exactly how Steve said, however, Bucky cares too much about his best friend to kill him. Beat him to a pulp? Sure. But Bucky could never kill Steve.

As soon as you’re in Steve’s apartment you’re on him, mouth pressed tightly against his and hands pushing his jacket off of his shoulders. He pauses for a moment, pulling away to look at you carefully.

“Are you sure you wanna do this? You know he’s gonna find out.” You roll your eyes and step out of your dress, kicking it aside and standing bare in front of the blond.

“He can go fuck himself after fucking that waitress. If he does. And if he doesn't then he’ll finally know how I’ve felt all those times when he’s come home smelling like another woman.” Steve ponders this for a moment longer before grabbing you by the waist and pulling you tight against his body.

His kisses are fierce, all teeth and tongue and power and you allow yourself to get lost in the feeling. All thoughts of Bucky are shoved aside. He’s not a priority to you tonight.

No. The only thing on your mind is revenge.

And by God does Steve make it taste sweet.

~*~

Your head is pounding and you swear you feel like you’ve swallowed sand.

The sound of a door opening makes you pry your lids open, glancing over to the sound. Steve offers you a smile, a glass of water and a couple of pills in his hands.

You sit up and rub your face before grabbing the water and painkillers, downing them both quickly then groaning.

“Where’s my phone?” You croak, holding your hand out expectantly.

Steve hesitates and you feel the atmosphere change. You lift your head and look at him, brows drawn together.

“Give it to me now.” He sighs and pulls your phone out of his back pocket, tossing it over to you.

You catch it effortlessly, turning it on while your heart beats in your throat.

Your world crumbles slightly at the sight of your lock screen.

Zero notifications from him.

Not a text.

Not one single phone call.

Nothing.

You grind your teeth together and toss the blankets off of yourself, marching over to Steve’s dresser and grabbing a pair of his sweatpants and a t-shirt that’s at least two sizes too small for him.

“Give me your keys,” you demand, marching out of the room with murder on your mind.

Steve grabs your arm but you yank out of his grip.

“Think about what you’re doing before you do it, (Y/n). Please.” You take a few deep breaths then shake your head.

“I’m just gonna go talk to him. If he’s not serious about us then neither am I. I just want to see...” You trail off and Steve sighs, handing you the keys to his Ferrari.

“If you so much as scratch the paint I’ll-” “Yeah, yeah you’ll kill me I know. It’s fine I’ll just buy you a new one.”

You’re out the door before he can say anything else, keys jammed in the car’s ignition.

Steve would have a heart attack if he saw the way you were treating his baby.

And he would die on the spot if he saw the way you drove.

By the time you’re outside the apartment you and Bucky share, you’ve had some time to cool down.

That doesn't stop you from grabbing a knife out of the glove box though.

You hold it loosely in your dominant hand as you walk into the building then up through the elevator, the trip taking far more time than usual.

But then you’re outside of your apartment, ready to have a serious conversation about where the two of you stand with regards to your relationship.

You unlock the door and push your way into the apartment, stopping right in the doorway when you see not one but two people in your home.

A piece of your heart shatters and any semblance of composure is left a step behind you.

Bucky looks like a deer in headlights, his mind foggy, but yours is working just as well as it usually does, if not better.

The waitress from the night before stands before you in your boyfriend’s shirt, a confused look on her face.

You hold the knife tighter in your grasp and pounce, the blade just nicking her throat before Bucky yanks her out of the way.

She lets out a terrified scream, stumbling to the ground and scrambling away from you.

Before you can get her again Bucky’s got your arms pinned to your sides, his metal arm holding tightly to the arm that has the knife.

“Grace, you should probably leave,” He says softly, his eyes focused on the look of pure betrayal on your face.

The waitress gets up and gathers her things quickly, her eyes on you.

You eye her with nothing but pure hatred in your gaze, straining against his hold.

He doesn’t loosen his grip until she’s safely out the door, only then does he let you go.

But what a mistake.

Your anger is now directed at him and you swipe your blade up at him, catching the apple of his cheek and leaving an angry red slice across his pretty face.

“Fuck!” He jumps back, one hand coming up to the wound while the other extends defensively in front of himself.

You don’t follow him like he thought you would. No, instead you toss the knife aside and turn away from him.

He’s utterly confused at your behaviour. It’s not like anything you’ve ever done before.

He was prepared for anger, for wrath like no other. But this? This is new territory and he hates that.

You pour yourself a glass of whiskey and bring it over to the couch, plopping down and grabbing your phone out of your pocket. Bucky approaches you slowly as if you’re an animal ready to lash out at any moment. But you don’t.

“Baby?” He asks softly, waiting for the anger.

But he gets nothing in reply.

“I’d be using my time more wisely if I were you,” you say stoically, eyes on your phone as you fight tears.

“W-what do you mean?” He’s never felt genuine fear for his life before now.

“You have twenty-eight minutes left to get your shit and get out. Whatever’s left after that is getting burned. If you’re still here then you will also be on that list of things that will be getting burned.”

He’s shocked.

“What do you mean?” He repeats, taking a few hesitant steps closer to your figure. The way that you stay so unbothered, eyes on your phone as if he means nothing to you, it’s beyond concerning.

“I’m not going to repeat myself. It’s up to you if you want to take me seriously or not.” He’s not sure what to do, but he knows that he pushed you too far, if only from the way that you don’t give a single fuck about him.

“I-I’m sorry,” he tries, voice low and hands raised in surrender and fear, hoping to appeal to your human side.

Unfortunately for him, your human side is long gone.

“Mhm,” is all you say in reply, taking another sip of your drink and trying to remember where you keep the propane.

He starts moving then, packing up a bag that’s enough to last him a few days. He’s not sure if he should believe that you’ll actually burn his things, but he grabs all his valuables just in case.

The remaining twenty-five minutes go by far too quickly, and then he’s standing at the door, watching you rise to your feet with the utmost grace.

He watches as you start gathering up little knickknacks, stray socks and books of his, a bunch of pictures, a set of ridiculously expensive champagne glasses, and the necklace he got you for your last birthday. You toss it all into a cardboard box then head into the next room to gather more things.

His curiosity and want to preserve what little he can of the relationship gets the better of him and he hesitantly creeps his way over to the box, grabbing the pictures and the necklace.

A bullet narrowly misses his hand and he almost drops his belongings in his haste to get out of the line of fire, but you’ve got the barrel pointed directly at him again, finger hovering dangerously over the trigger.

“I told you: half an hour. You’re done. Get out. If I ever see you again, I’ll kill you.” He says nothing. Instead, he grabs his belongings and leaves without so much as a second glance.

~*~

“Have you tried talking to her? She seemed pretty pissed when she left my place.” Bucky glares at his friend, “You fucking asshole, don’t even try to give me advice, you’re the one who ruined this in the first place.”

Steve raises his brows and downs his scotch then actually laughs at his friend, the sound getting slightly drowned out by the noises in the bar

“Do I need to remind you who left the club first? You took that waitress home before (Y/n) and I even left. That’s the only reason I took her home. She would’ve fucked anybody in that club and then you would’ve gone and made a mess that I would’ve had to clean up. I took her home cause you and I both know I’ll take good care of her and won’t treat her like shit. She deserves the world, Buck, and you treat her like a piece of garbage.”

The brunet is silent as his friend tells him what he knows is true but really just doesn’t want to accept.

“That woman loves you, Buck. To the moon and back. With her whole fucking heart and soul and you stomp on it every damn chance you get. If she wasn’t so damn in love with you, I’d take her out. Wine and dine her real nice, just how she deserves. I’d show her what it’s like to be loved.”

The glass shatters in the brunet’s hand as he listens to his best friend talk about the way he’d treat the woman he loves.

“I get it! I’m a fucking idiot. I’ll go talk to her.” He drops a couple of bills on the table then marches out of the bar, trying to keep his composure and his confidence on the drive to the apartment.

He’s not sure what he’s going to say, but he knows he needs to apologize. He needs to tell you that he loves you and that you’re the only one he wants.

Hesitant knuckles knock against the door and he feels stupid. It’s his place too.

When he gets no reply he pushes the door open, his stomach dropping and his heart clenching tight in his chest.

It’s empty.

No furniture, no decorations, and not one single sign of you.

“(Y/n)?!” He calls, hand darting to the gun tucked into his pants as he explores the empty penthouse.

“(Y/n)?” His voice is softer but more desperate, the reality of the situation hitting him like a punch in the gut.

You’re gone.

He lost you. And he’s not sure if he’s gonna be able to get you back.

~*~

You shoulder your way into the tiny shithole that you’re calling home, brows drawn together and shoulders heavy with exhaustion.

“Love the new place.” You’ve got a gun raised and aimed at the voice, heart racing in your chest at the fact that you didn’t even realize they were here.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You demand, not lowering your weapon as you walk into the living room.

He’s seated on the couch, eyes staring straight through the window across from him.

“You left,” is all he says.

You want to scoff.

Scratch that; you want to shout. To yell and scream and beat him to a bloody pulp. You want to ask him why. Why he hurt you so badly and why he acts like he did nothing.

Instead, you walk past him and set your gun on the table.

“Why did you leave?” His voice is closer than before, his feet silent as they carry him towards you. You’re in your bedroom, raking your hands through your hair as you try to handle the situation.

“Why?” He asks again, two metal fingers just hardly brushing against your bicep. You yank yourself away from him, eyes full of rage and betrayal as you glare at him.

“Don’t you fucking dare touch me! You have no fucking right!” He takes a moment to look you over, a frown on his face as he sees how upset you are.

This isn’t how this usually goes. Usually, the two of you shout and scream at each other, then fuck all the anger out.

But not this time.

No, this time it’s different. Because there’s more than just anger on your face.

The look of pain, of absolute agony on your face, has his heart shattering in his chest.

“Doll... I’ll never be able to apologize for what I did. I just...” “You just what, Bucky?” You never call him that. Exhaustion laces your voice and your shoulders slump forward.

“You just what? You wanted to hurt me again? Well congrats, you did a great job. Now please leave. I don't want to see you. Not now and not ever fucking again.” He shakes his head as you turn away from him again.

“No, no you don’t mean that. We’re good together. We’re so fucking good together. You’re the Lois Lane to my Superman. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”

His words are dripping with desperation and truth. He’s scared, terrified that this is the end. But he’s talked you back before, he can do it again.

“I’ve been hurt before, Buck. And when I saw... that... it felt like there was a knife in my fucking throat. Like someone was stabbing me in the chest and in the back all at the same time. I couldn’t breathe and I couldn’t fight. And you know what? I’m done fighting. I’m done fighting you, I’m done fighting for you and, I’m so fucking done fighting for us. It’s not worth it anymore.”

He shakes his head but you continue, not giving him a moment to speak.

“We’re not good together. We’re toxic. We’re so fucking toxic but you love it. You love that I hate you because I always come crawling back. You never let me leave, you’ve never ever told me you loved me. It’s always been me. I was the only one who ever tried to salvage our relationship and I’m done doing that.”

He shakes his head, swallowing the sorrow and bile in his throat at the way your voice breaks, the way you crack and splinter and shatter right before his very own eyes.

And it’s his fault. He caused this. He's the one who hurt you.

“Doll I love you. So fucking much. I feel so fucking ashamed for everything I’ve done and the way that I’ve acted.” You scoff, shaking your head at him, “as you fucking should. I’m not going to comfort you. You see me crumbling, see me in pain, and all you've ever done is stand by and watch the show. I won’t let you. Not anymore.”

You sniffle and scrub a tear off of your cheek, your voice shaking as you start speaking again.

“I love you. So much that I can fucking hardly breathe when I’m with you. And when I fell in love with you... it hit me out of the blue. Out of fucking nowhere. I never wanted t-to hurt you or to make you upset. Now I can’t even look at you. You said you’d be my ride or die but you have never been there when I’ve needed you.”

His eyes are red-rimmed and his heart is in his stomach. This isn’t happening. It can’t be happening.

“B-But I can change. Just give me another chance, please, doll. I swear things will be different this time.”

You shake your head angrily, furious that you’re having to have this conversation with him.

“No! You don’t get it! You don’t get another chance, this isn’t a game! You lied again and now you’re going to fucking watch me walk out of your life and I’m not going to fucking look back!”

“Baby, please. Just... I just... I need you so much. I know I wasn’t there for you and I know it wasn’t you and it was me but your temper’s just as bad as mine is and we’re both stubborn as hell and so fucking crazy. Our relationship isn’t as bad as it seems and I love you too much for you to walk away. Come home, we can try again.”

You’re crying now, arms crossed tightly over your chest in a pathetic attempt at protecting yourself

“You’re a broken record, Bucky. Playing the same damn thing over and over again. You don’t mean a word you’re saying.”

He winds up and his fist slams into the wall, a large hole gaping in the drywall.

There goes your damage deposit.

Tears are streaking down his face and his chest is heaving as emotions wrack through his body, tearing him limb from limb and setting him on fire.

“You’re not even listening to me! Don't you hear the sincerity in my voice! I told you this was my fault! I know it’s all my fault! Next time-”

“Next time?!” You actually laugh, though the two of you know there’s no humour behind it. “You don’t get a ‘next time’! We’re done! We’re fucking done!”

“No! You’re not listening to me! All I want is to have you back home! I’m tired of these fucking games! Come home!”

He reaches for you, hands grasping your waist, and you shimmy out of his grip and back up in the bedroom, absolutely fuming at the audacity this man has.

“This isn’t a fucking game, James! If you ever come near me again I will tie you to that fucking bed and set this place on fire! I will show you exactly how you’ve made me felt and by the end of it you’ll be begging me to kill you!”

The two of you stand facing off with each other, tears falling and eyes narrowed, but you won’t give in.

Not this time.

After a few very long minutes his shoulders sag and his entire demeanour changes as he accepts defeat. As he realizes that you’re not giving in this time.

He lost.

He lost you.

“Alright. If that’s what you want, fine.” He turns around and walks towards the front door, each step sending a sharp fiery pain through his chest.

He hesitates when he gets to the door, eyes squeezed shut as he waits, hopes, and prays for you to stop him.

But you say nothing. You only watch him, wait for him to leave and take all his lies and deceit away.

He pulls the door open, steps through, and turns around, red eyes focused solely on you.

You muster up your courage and take calculated steps through the apartment towards the front door.

His heart jumps up into his throat, lips parting to apologize and to thank you for giving him another chance, but he doesn’t get a word out.

No, you close the door in his face and leave him standing alone on the other side, your decision having been made.

His movements are mechanical as he makes his way to his car, keys in the ignition and foot on the gas.

It can’t be real.

It can’t be.

He finds himself back in your old apartment, eyes on the absolute nothingness, a perfect representation of your relationship.

A strangled sob leaves his lips, and then another one. And another until they’re consuming him and he’s on the floor, unable to breathe or move.

No, he curls up in the fetal position, hunched in on himself, and screams your name. He curses himself, his friends, his stupidity.

He deserves this. He knows that.

He’s a lost cause.

Loving him was a mistake on your part.

But that doesn’t make the hurt go away.

Fuck, he wants the hurt to go away.

#bucky x reader #bucky x reader dark fic #bucky x reader dark au #Bucky Barnes x reader #bucky/reader #bucky/you #dark au #dark fic #bucky smut #bucky x reader smut #bucky x reader angst #Bucky Barnes angst #Steve Rogers x reader smut #Steve Rogers x reader angst #Bucky Barnes fanfiction

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the7thcrow · 3 years

Text

indulgence | part two

pairing: felix x (fem) vampire!reader

summary: an indulgence grows to become dangerous, as the society of hampden college takes note of y/n’s new blood bag.

series masterlist.

word count: 5.8 k

genre: forbidden love. angst, extreme fluff, suggestive.

warnings: blood, suggestive content (sex is discussed but not described), strong language, alcohol and vampires ofc.

rating: 16+

a/n: hi everyone! thank you to anyone who read part one, and liked it enough to continue with part two hehe. the plot really picks up here, and i’m quite excited about it. once again, i love hearing feedback, so don’t be shy in leaving me an ask or message :)

previous chapter.

...

You were careful. In the beginning, at least. For the first few weeks of carrying your secret, you only met Felix after hours, and only at your home. You’d leave at different times, and you both never spoke a word of what you were doing to anyone.

It was a safe play. A smart one. But as time went on you became sloppy. It started on the day Felix’s roommates would be gone for the entire weekend.

You were both lying in your bed, the rainy Sunday morning having trickled by in a lazy, melancholic fashion. These were your favourite days, the ones in which he’d arrive just before dawn and leave near dusk.

You’d gotten used to his presence around your apartment, his absence painfully noticeable during the days you found yourself cooped up there alone. You liked when he was there, even when you weren’t talking, lounging on the couch in silence with your feet intertwined as you caught up on your required reading. Or when sometimes he’d cook for you, baking you sweets as you were stressed out over a paper that’s due date was much closer than you’d realized. Him simply being around granted you comfort, a sense of companionship, something you hadn’t felt for a long time.

You couldn’t deny that Felix Lee had nestled himself into your life, and you’d be a liar to say you weren’t enjoying it. Being with him made you love the creature you were, seeing the way your feeding affected him, the way it set the two of you on fire. Forgetting for a moment how restrictive your life truly was, how exhausting and lonely it often happened to be.

Looking back, perhaps that was the entire problem itself. That wasn’t something you should so easily forget, no matter how tempting it may be.

“Come on,” Felix whined, tracing shapes along the bare of your back with his finger. “They won’t be there all weekend, it won’t be any different then when we’re here.”

He was trying to convince you to come spend the following weekend at his apartment, as his roommates were leaving on a ski trip and wouldn’t be back until Monday morning.

“Well, if it won’t be any different then why should we bother risking it?” You returned. In truth, you really did want to go spend time at his place. It felt like the next step in your relationship, however strange and complicated it may be. You weren’t sure if “relationship” was even the right term for whatever you two were, but you didn’t want to overthink things too much. For now, all you wanted was to enjoy this while it lasted, as deep down you knew it couldn’t be forever.

“Because,” he mumbled, rolling you over to face him. This wasn’t going to help your willpower, you’d come to find you just couldn’t say no to those dark, curious eyes. “I feel like I’ve really gotten to know you these last few weeks. I mean, I’ve seen your life. Your room, your book and record collections, what you keep stocked in your refrigerator. I guess I just want to share my space with you too.”

You groaned, shifting downwards to bury your face in his chest. “Well that’s not fair. How am I supposed to say no to that?”

“Exactly, you can’t,” he laughed.

“You’re the worst.”

“I know. Sorry.”

You sighed. “Fine. I’ll head over Friday night then.”

“See, I knew you’d come around,” he smiled, his voice light with enthusiasm. However, you couldn’t ignore the weight of anxiousness bubbling in your chest. You looked up at Felix, and you knew that he could see it written on your face.

“Don’t worry,” he said softly, methodically running his fingers through your hair, something he’d learned would help calm you down whenever you were stressed. “I’ll make it worth your time.”

~~~~

Felix did, in fact, make it worth your time. When you arrived at his doorstep the following weekend, you were surprised to find the door unlocked. Carefully, you twisted the knob, peeking inside.

It was safe to say you were surprised.

The apartment was entirely candlelit, the smell of rose scented candles mixing with that of whatever Felix was presently cooking in the kitchen. The table was done up in a way that reminded you of a cheesy Italian restaurant, with a checkered red tablecloth, two glasses for wine, and a rose stationed in the middle.

Felix emerged from the kitchen, a wide, toothy grin on his face. He was wearing an apron, patterned with an alarming amount of cartoon kittens, over what appeared to be a rather expensive suit.

“I feel like I’m underdressed,” you stated, unable to mask the pure awe in your voice. Nobody, not even Chan, had done anything like this for you. Not to mention the fact that you and Felix weren’t even dating…

Were you? This seemed like an awful lot of effort to put in for someone you were only hooking up with.

“Nah, you look great. Don’t worry about it,” Felix said. “Now if you don’t mind, I’ll take your jacket Mademoiselle.”

You laughed, taking off your overcoat and handing it to him. “That’s French. I thought you were going for Italian,” you joked, attempting to hide the warmth flooding to your cheeks.

“Shhh,” he said, setting your jacket down on the couch before putting his hands on your shoulders. “Just let me have this one. Okay?”

“Okay,” you said quietly, giving him a kiss on the cheek. You felt oddly shy, surrounded by such a scene.

“Well if you’ll take a seat, I can show you what I’ve been making in the kitchen,” he said, moving towards the table and pulling out the chair. You complied, sitting down and shifting your focus to the wonderful smell wafting in from the kitchen.

Felix disappeared before appearing with two plates, setting one down in front of you. “Shrimp Scampi,” he clarified. You glanced up at him and you could tell he was slightly nervous. Knowing Felix, he was probably worried you wouldn’t like it.

How someone could possibly not appreciate all of this, was entirely beyond you.

You decided to reassure him. “It looks amazing, Felix. All of this,” you said, gesturing to the room around you. “This is incredible. I can’t believe you did this, it's so… unbelievably sweet.”

“Well,” he said shyly, removing the apron and setting it down on the kitchen counter. “I knew you were worried about coming over here. So, I guess I just wanted to make it the best I could. Less terrifying and more something you’d really enjoy. You know?”

If your cheeks weren’t red before, they certainly were now. It took everything in you not to lean over the table and kiss him right then and there.

He grabbed a bottle of wine from the liquor cabinet behind him, pouring the liquid into your glass. “White wine?” You questioned with a smirk. “I thought you would have gone with red.”

He chuckled, beginning to fill his own. “I thought about it, but it felt a little too cliche. Besides,” he said, corking the bottle and setting it back down on the table. “White goes better with seafood.”

You picked up your glass, taking a small sip. “Pinot grigio?”

He raised his eyebrows, smirking. “A bit of a wine connoisseur, are we?”

You laughed. “Something like that.”

Truth be told, you weren’t. Frankly, you’d always much preferred scotch. However, Chan was big on wine. From the two years you’d spent together, you’d managed to pick up a thing or two.

The rest of the dinner passed smoothly. The food was delicious, the wine smooth, the conversation breezy. You’d calmed down from the initial shock of it all, and had settled back into the comfortable atmosphere you and Felix had developed over the past few weeks.

After you’d both finished your meals, he rose to his feet, setting your plates down on the kitchen counter before disappearing around the corner, into the living room. You were wondering if you should follow him, when suddenly classical music started to fill your ears.

You rose to your feet, peering around the corner to see Felix stationed beside a record player. He smiled, before extending a hand out towards you. “Come on, dance with me.”

“You sure are cheesy today, huh?” You laughed, taking his hand anyway. You laid your head against his chest, the two of you swaying gently, a sorry attempt at a Waltz.

The music from the record filled the room, the notes dancing along with the two of you, a symphony of affection. You quickly recognized the piece as The Four Seasons.

“Vivaldi is my favourite composer,” you mumbled into his chest.

“I know, you told me a while ago,” he spoke quietly.

“Ah,” you said, smiling to yourself over the fact he remembered. “I’m surprised you have a record of him, I know you aren’t the classical type.”

“You’re right, I’m not,” he laughed. “It’s actually one of my roommates.”

“I see. What are they like?” Even with all the time you’d spent together, you and Felix had never talked about the people in your personal lives.

“Hmm,” Felix hummed. Although he didn’t say anything, you could tell he was happy that you asked. That you were slowly breaking the barrier you’d put around yourself.

“Well, Han- that’s whose record this is- he’s... well he’s loud, but I think you’d really like him. He’s studying music theory, wants to be something of a composer himself. He’s a bit messy, but if you harp on him enough he’ll keep his shit clean.”

“He sounds nice,” you offered kindly. “What about your other one?”

“Ah, yeah. Changbin. His name is Changbin,” Felix said, but you could tell there was something off about his tone.

“What about him?”

“He’s… he’s going through a lot right now. But normally he’s the coolest. He’s also in music theory, so he and Han help eachother out a lot. He’s the type to bring you food when you’ve been working on a paper all day, because he knows you’ve forgotten to eat. Always there for you, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it,” you said. Talking about Changbin seemed to make Felix nervous, based on the way he wouldn’t meet your eye and the apprehension in his voice. You could bet it had to do with whatever Changbin was going through at the moment, but despite your curiousness you decided to drop it. It wasn’t any of your business.

The two of you swayed in silence for a few moments. There was nothing left to say on the matter.

“You know,” you said suddenly. “You said you wanted to show me your space, but I still haven’t seen your bedroom.”

Felix smirked. “Ah, I guess you haven’t. Why, you impatient for something?”

You laughed, looking up at him. “Get your head out of the gutter, Lix. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mhm. Yeah, sure you don’t,” he returned, taking your hand and leading you down the hallway to your left. He stopped, turning to open a door that was currently covered in a rather elaborate arrangement of animal stickers. You raised your eyebrows at him.

“Oh right, the stickers,” Felix said, smacking his forehead with his palm. “Han thought it would be funny, but now I can’t get them off.”

You smiled. Felix was right, you and Han would probably get along.

The inside of Felix's room was oddly exactly how you had imagined it. Books were stacked neatly on the desk in the corner, ranging from academic texts to various manga. Posters hung on the walls, representing different music artists, some you recognized and others you did not. He had a nintendo switch tossed on his night stand, and plants hanging in the window. The room, while packed, was clean and well in order. An organized sort of chaos.

You laid down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. You felt the mattress sink slightly as he laid beside you.

“Do you like it?” He whispered.

“I do. It’s very you.”

He hummed in acknowledgment, rolling onto his side to face you. His fingers wandered in the air for a moment, before finding themselves placed against your cheek. Gently he stroked his thumb back and forth along your jawbone.

You smiled, leaning into his touch, placing your own hand in his hair. “I feel like dessert,” you stated.

Felix’s cheeks warmed. “I made brownies,” he mumbled, his gaze deepening. “But something tells me that’s not what you have in mind.”

~~~

It was not what you had in mind, and you’d gone far beyond merely explaining that to Felix. The two of you were tangled together beneath his sheets, his head resting on your chest. The room was dark, preventing you from seeing the details of his face, only the shadows and the curve of his jaw visible in the moonlight.

“Felix?” You whispered, wondering if he was awake.

“Mmm?” He mumbled, clearly only half-conscious.

“You know I can’t give you more than this, right? We’ll always have to sneak around, keep us a secret. It’ll never be easy.”

“I know.”

“And you’re really okay with that?”

He reached for your hand, allowing your fingers to intertwine. “If it means I have you, I’ll manage.”

A moment of silence passed by, as you were unsure of what to say, but something inside of you stirred. Something deep and warm, coming back to life.

“Y/N?” He asked suddenly, breaking the quiet.

“Yeah?”

“Do I have you?”

“Of course, Lix,” you smiled, finally allowing your eyes to close, putting your mind to rest. “I’m all yours.”

~~~~

The following morning you awoke to the sound of rain pattering against the window, Felix still sleeping soundly against your chest. Carefully, you moved his head to the pillow, sliding out from under him and emerging into the hallway.

The apartment felt eerily quiet. You never found yourself in an unfamiliar place in the mornings, and the urge to evacuate and run back to your apartment was more tempting than you would’ve liked to admit. You wouldn’t, of course. Felix had put in the effort to make you feel comfortable, to feel at home. You would honour that, no matter how slightly terrifying it might be.

You wandered into the kitchen, noticing a container full of brownies set on the counter. You smiled, those were supposed to be eaten yesterday, before, well…

You opened the package taking a bite of the sweet, before spitting it out in shock.

The apartment door swung open wildly, a boy with brown hair and chubby cheeks storming inside, a thick cast around his wrist. He threw his backpack onto the couch, letting the ski’s he was carrying clatter against the wall.

“Felix, you will not believe how bad the hill was. There was hardly even any snow, and the amount of rocks? It was like they wanted me to break my arm! Believe me, you made the right call opting out, it was not worth the drive-”

The boy stopped, his eyes bulging as he finally realized you were in the room. His silence made you quickly realize that you were only sporting one of Felix’s shirts, and while it covered you fine, it told an obvious tale.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Hi!” He said, his mind finally catching up on the situation.

Alright, this was it. Clearly you and Felix weren’t a secret anymore, at least not with his roommates. Now you had to decide how you were going to play this out. Your mind was buzzing. You knew this was a bad idea. You knew this was dangerous. You fucked up. It was over for you. You were screwed.

Attempting to settle your racing mind, you decided to make an effort at being friendly for now.

“Hi,” you smiled, moving behind the kitchen table to cover your legs. “I’m assuming you’re Han?”

“Yeah, how’d you know?” He laughed.

“Felix mentioned you were a tad… charismatic.”

Han chuckled. “Did he now? I’ll have to pay him back for that. I’m sorry, but I didn’t catch your name-”

Felix burst out of the hallway, his hair a disheveled mess and shirt only half buttoned. “Han! You’re back early!”

He looked at you, and while you wanted to be furious at him, planned to make him regret getting you to come here, the look of guilt in his eyes stopped you before you could even begin. It were as if the words “I’m Sorry” were branded to his forehead, his features solemn with remorse.

“We have to get out of here,” you thought. “We have to talk about this, figure out what the hell to do.”

“Wait, what did you do to your arm?” Felix asked, just noticing the thick cast.

“Ah,” Han said shyly, rubbing the back of his neck with his good arm. “I wiped out. Like I said, the hill was bad. Not enough snow and too much ice. I slid into a rock and, well… Doctor said I have to keep this on for the next 5 weeks, which blows, obviously,” he motioned to the cast, shrugging his shoulder helplessly.

Before you could get a word in, he continued. “Oh, have you guys eaten yet? Changbin’s just grabbing-”

Felix quickly cut him off. “We were actually just about to go get something to eat.”

Han raised an eyebrow, glancing from Felix, who looked like he just stumbled out of a 2 year coma, to yourself, who was certainly in no position to walk out the door. “You were?”

“Yeah!” You exclaimed, perhaps a little too loudly. “I’m just going to, uh, get changed, and then we’ll be out of your hair,” you said, rushing past them and into Felix’s bedroom.

You shut the door behind you, leaning up against the frame before taking a deep breath. Okay, you could do this. You’d make a quick exit, then you and Felix could sort out what to do next. Maybe he could tell them you were just a hookup. But would that look too suspicious? Did they notice he’d been sneaking out almost every night? If they did that would only cause more problems.

God, this was a fucking mess. You shouldn’t have come, you shouldn’t have come, you shouldn't have come-

“Y/N?” Felix called, knocking on the door. “Are you almost ready?”

“Y-yeah!” You called back, cringing at the waver in your voice. You had to get yourself together. You threw on your jeans from the following day, tucking in Felix’s button up and bounded towards the door.

“Alright, I’m ready,” you said, bouncing back into the living room. However, you were surprised to be greeted by someone new. The boy was standing beside Felix and Han, whispering in a rushed, as well as undeniably angry tone.

More surprising yet, and perhaps unsettling as well, he was glaring at you. No, glaring wasn’t the right word. His eyes screamed bloody murder, his jaw locked, entire body was rigid with a stiffness only produced by vile distaste. It was that look of hatred, that familiar spiteful glaze, which immediately made you recognize him.

“I’ve seen you at the library before,” you stated, taking note of how his eyes widened slightly at the sound of your voice.

The boy cleared his throat. “I don’t think so,” he stated, which was an obvious lie. He’d visited the library several times during the dead of the night, always with that same angry, loathsome stare. You’d always found it unsettling, and always left soon after he arrived, even if you still had work to do.

“Yes, you-” you began, but Felix quickly cut you off.

“Sorry, Changbin. We were just leaving, I’ll catch you guys later.” He said, taking your arm and quickly ushering you out the entry. You saw Han attempt to call out in protest, but Felix quickly shut the door behind him, blocking whatever it was he had to say.

You turned to Felix. “What the hell was that?”

“What, I figured you’d want to get out of there?” He shrugged, not meeting your eye as he walked ahead of you, making his way down the complex stairs.

You scowled, chasing after him. “Not that, why was Changbin - or whatever his name is - staring at me like that?”

“That’s just the way Changbin has been lately,” Felix said, although you couldn’t shake the feeling there was something more to it. Pulling your arm away, you pushed passed him. If Felix was going to be so frustrating, there was no way you were going to be the one trailing him like a puppy.

“Well, I know for a fact he’s seen me at the library, so why would he lie about that?” You continued, opening the main doors and storming onto the street.

Felix jogged after you. “I don’t know?” He shot back, his voice sharp. “Maybe he just forgot?”

You scoffed, turning a corner onto the main walking path, heading off campus and towards your own apartment. You needed to sort this out, and the last thing you needed was to cause a scene in the middle of a busy street.

“Whatever,” you grumbled, still keeping yourself a few steps ahead. “We’ll figure it out when we get back to my place.”

“It’s the middle of the day, I thought that was against your precious rules,” he sniped. You knew he was just angry, blowing off steam, but the jab hurt. He was fully aware that you hated the way things were, the way things had to be. It was a low blow, and it only made your annoyance spike.

“Fine, Lix. You don’t have to come, go back home so you don’t have to be a burden to my ‘precious rules.’”

“Shit, no. Wait, Y/N!” He babbled, running to put himself in front of you. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for, I didn’t mean that. Please, let’s figure this out. I want to, seriously.”

You stared at him for a moment, before walking past him, a sigh trailing from your lips. “Fine, come on.”

He let out a relieved breath before catching up, placing himself at your side.

“We need to determine what the hell we’re going to tell your roommates,” you start. “Because as of now, we’ve gotten ourselves into a load of shit-”

You didn’t see the man in front of you as you collided into his chest, falling to the ground, rubbing your nose from the immediate shock of pain.

“Woah, I’m sorry! I didn’t see you there,” the voice said, and your entire body froze. You knew that voice. You knew that voice well. It was a voice you hadn’t heard in months, the voice of the worst possible person you could stumble into at the moment.

“Hold on, Y/N?” Chan asked. You looked up to meet his gaze, petrified by the familiar look of pain in his eyes. The same hurt from the last time you saw him, or in better terms, left him.

“Hey, Chan,” you replied, your voice coming out more shaky than you wanted it to. Chan extended a hand, lifting you to your feet. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah,” he laughed quietly, scratching the back of his neck. “It sure has.”

Then, to your complete and utter despair, his gaze shifted to Felix. It was alarming, how quickly his gaze hardened, the way any sense of past affection drifted from his eyes. “Who’s this?” He asked, his voice cold.

“That’s Felix. He’s uh, from class, we got assigned for a partner project. We have to explain how without divine intervention, the events in The Iliad may have transpired differently,” you said. If you were going to lie, you had to at least try to make it sound believable.

“Ah, I see,” Chan said, an edge to his voice. “Where are you guys heading?”

“Just a cafe,” you replied, keeping your voice level.

“Off campus?” He asked, his eyes narrowing, you felt your heart leap into your throat.

“Yeah,” Felix answered without missing a beat. “Figured it would be less busy, you know?”

“Hm,” Chan said, before giving the boy a smile. To Felix, it probably seemed nice, but you knew Chan. Which meant you also knew there wasn’t an ounce of genuine kindness in that expression.

“Alright, well I’ll let you guys get to it then,” he shook Felix’s hand, his grip slightly too firm. “It was nice meeting you.”

He took a step to make his exit, and for a moment you thought you’d gotten away with it. You thought that somehow, you’d manage to evade this inevitable disaster. Foolish.

Chan stopped beside you, putting a hand on your shoulder. Turning to Felix, he smiled, his eyes glinting. “And hey, you might want to fix your collar.”

Felix’s eyebrows furrowed, a confused expression on his face as he adjusted the collar of his button-up. That’s when you noticed it. The bite marks just peeked out, visibly fresh from the following night.

Chan leaned in, his breath warm against your neck, lips brushing your ear. Your body froze, heart stopping at his words.

“You’ve got his scent all over you.”

~~~~

You and Felix spent the next few hours deciding your best course of action. In a matter of a day, your entire arrangement had been flipped on its head.

The first issue revolved around Felix’s roommates, the biggest worry being what exactly he was going to tell them. After much thought, as well as a bit of arguing, you decided to have Felix say that the two of you were casually seeing each other. This way, they shouldn’t get suspicious that there was more going on, but they also wouldn’t expect to necessarily see you around their apartment either.

There was still risk in it - of course, there always was - as there was the remaining fear that one of them might mention the two of you to the wrong person, and you’d be doomed. As much as having this as a risk pained you, there wasn’t much you could do about it, at least for the moment. For now, you had to trust that if Felix told them to keep it a secret, they would.

This was difficult, as you truthfully didn’t have faith in either of them. Han seemed nice, of course. But it was clear he liked to talk, and it wouldn’t be shocking if something managed to slip from his lips.

Changbin... Well, he seemed to hate you, for whatever reason that might be. You tried to talk to Felix about this, but he simply brushed it off, blaming it on whatever Changbin happened to be going through at the moment. Begrudgingly, you decided to drop it, but that didn’t mean you wouldn’t store the worry in the back of your mind. Keep a watchful eye out.

The bigger problem was Chan. He knew. He knew everything. The feeding, the fucking. That Felix was something more than just an acquaintance. He could single-handedly unravel your relationship, all it would take was a quick chat with The Council, and you would be ruined. There would be nothing you could do to stop them. You didn’t know what The Council would do to you, but you knew at the very least they would force you to end your arrangement with Felix.

You wanted to believe that Chan wouldn’t do that. You really did, but you knew that might not be the case. If he saw telling The Council as a way of protecting you, to keep you away from humans that could be out to hurt you, or use you, there was no doubt in your mind that that’s exactly what he would do.

For now, all you could do was wait, and keep as low of a profile as you possibly could at the moment. It was for this purpose that you said the following words:

“I think we need to distance ourselves from each other, for at least a little while,” you said to Felix. He currently was sitting on your couch, elbows resting on his knees, head buried in his hands.

Slowly, he glanced up at you. He looked tired. “Do we have to?” He asked, his voice flooded with defeat. The last few hours hadn't been easy. There were sacrifices to make, ones that neither of you wanted to adhere to. But this was not as simple as what you did and didn’t want.

“Yeah,” you sighed, dropping down on the couch beside him, resting your head on his shoulder. “We have to. I think we could have dealt with your roommates, but Chan is a far bigger issue.”

Felix frowned, and you knew exactly how he felt.

This sucked.

Over the past month, you’d really come to like Felix. You genuinely enjoyed his company, his cooking, his sense of humour. The way he brightened up a room. Most of all, he made you feel less alone. Together you were a part of something. A relationship of sorts. You mattered. And while you would do what you could to make sure this farewell wasn’t forever, in the end it was still a goodbye.

And goodbye’s were always hard, no matter what lay behind them.

“Alright,” he murmured, taking your hand in his, gently brushing his thumb against your knuckles. “When should I expect to hear from you again?”

“I’ll give you a call by the end of the week. I might try talking to Chan, just to see where he’s at with all this. Try to make him understand before he decides to throw me under the bus.”

Felix hums in response, before twisting his neck so that his chin rests on top of your head. “I’m going to miss you,” he states simply.

You smile sadly, planting a soft kiss at the nape of his neck. “I’ll miss you too,” you say, “but this will only be temporary. I’ll make sure of it.”

~~~~

You didn’t get the chance to talk to Chan, as not even a full day after Felix left your apartment, a letter slid under your door. Carefully, you arose from your spot on your couch, setting your laptop down on the coffee table. You approached the envelope slowly, as if you were to move too fast, it might combust.

You picked up the letter, turning it over to reveal the seal. Your heart sunk in your chest.

There it was. The red wax seal. The letter was from The Society.

Fuck.

You frantically ripped off the seal, releasing the note inside with shaky hands.

Dear Ms. L/N,

We have recently been informed that you have been participating in actions that violate the terms of our Society agreement. This information has been provided to us by a source of whom wishes to remain anonymous for the time being.

However, these claims remain a serious issue. We would like to give you the chance to explain yourself, as well as clear up what may be a possible misunderstanding or simply a false accusation. If these actions happen to be true, then we will deal with matters accordingly.

You are called to attend this meeting at 1:00pm tomorrow, at the councilroom of our head district.

We appreciate your compliance.

Our regards,

The Council.

~~~~

It’s almost funny, looking back on how hopeful you’d been. That despite everything working against you, you’d somehow thought you could best them. Somehow thought that you were more powerful than the unbeatable. More powerful than The Council.

That’s where you found yourself now, seated before the three all-powerful vampires, surrounded by endless more. You thought you’d be more terrified, more horrified of what they might choose to do to you.

But you aren’t. You’re tired of this. Tired of it all. So let them do whatever they wanted, you would take it. You didn’t regret any of what you did.

Not a damn thing.

“Ms. L/N,” the head councilmen repeats, voice dead of emotion. “Do you know why you’re here today?”

Of course you do. He knows damn well that you know exactly why you’re here, you can see it in the smirk playing at the corner of his lips.The question is mockery.

So you say nothing.

“Cooperation will make this much easier, Ms. L/N,” another member of The Council speaks from beside him. She looks far younger than he is, although they are probably around the same age. Which is to say, hundreds of years old.

As your silence continues, the head councilman sighs, rubbing the space between his eyes in frustration. “Fine. Let me explain, shall I? We have reason to suspect you’ve been… coercing with a human boy. Felix Lee.”

Your heart jumps slightly. They know his name? You weren’t expecting that, but then again this was The Council. Digging up identities was the least they were capable of.

“Is this true, Ms. L/N?”

You stare at the councilman. There’s no point in lying. He knows. This meeting was not to defend your innocence, but to determine your punishment. You can see it in his eyes. Those hollow, sunken eyes, that seem farther from humanity than you could’ve dreamed possible.

“Yes,” you state. Your eyes drift to the corner of the room, landing on Chan, who’s gaze remains firm. You want to slap him. Or yell at him. Maybe both.

“Hm, well at least you’re honest,” the councilman murmurs, a light buzz of laughter vibrating throughout the room. This is funny to them, a joke. Irritation itches under your skin, you don’t quite see the humour here.

“Well,” the councilmen starts, a glint in his eye. “In order to reward your honesty, I suppose we won’t punish you.”

You blink. “What?” You say, your voice coming out a croak. You glance at Chan again, who looks equally confused. His eyes are wide, chest heaving as his breathing rate increases. No, he’s not confused, he’s alarmed.

Something is wrong. You glance back at the councilman, and there it is again, that glint of something awful in his eyes. Something evil.

“You heard me correctly, Ms. L/N. We will not punish you,” the last word drips from his tongue, and you come to understand the weight of his words.

“Fuck. No. No, no, no,” you can hardly hear yourself think over the ringing in your ears, your thoughts a jumbled mess of panic and pure terror.

The councilmen clears his throat, a grin spreading across his lips, fangs almost shining in the dim light of the councilroom.

“No, Felix Lee will be the one to pay this price. Kill him, and the damage you’ve caused will be forgiven.”

next chapter.

#skz fanfic #skz fanfiction #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids x y/n #felix x reader #skz felix #stray kids felix #stray kids felix x reader #skz felix x reader #vampire skz #vampire stray kids #vampire felix #skz x vampire reader #stray kids x vampire reader #stray kids #skz #felix fan fic #felix fan fiction

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dreamescapeswriting · 4 years

Text

Unfinished Business ~ Part 3

WORD COUNT: 3.9K

WARNINGS: Mentions of mafia, strong language, murder, blood

PAIRING: Bang Chan X Reader

DESCRIPTION: Part Three of nine of my new Bang Chan series.

You’re taken hostage but one of Seoul’s leading mafia families Bang Chan but he doesn’t take you because he wants to fake a marriage or make you fall for him in 365 days no…He wants to use you for his own personal gain. To take over another family but when you try to escape things take a turn for the worst and you learn Chan isn’t one to be messed with.(Please I suck at describing stuff)

THEMES: Smut will be included in a later chapter so this is a fic for a mature audience, Chan x Fem!Reader, Self insert

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

The next morning you woke up to the door squeaking open, signaling someone was coming into the basement once again. You opened your eyes to see Minho walking down the steps towards you with a plate in one hand and a bag in the other.

"Chan said eat and then get changed." You stared at him as he placed the plate down onto the coffee table and dropped the bag on the floor.

"Why?" He ignored your question. He didn't get orders to tell you why he was doing what he was doing, just that he was to do it. He came over to you dropping onto his knees and unlocking the chain that kept you against the wall, you rubbed your ankle as soon as the chain was gone but held eye contact with Minho as he made his way over to the door.

"Not poisoned." He said coldly pointing in the direction of the plate - it wasn't his preferred way of killing someone anyway - you didn't bother rushing over to it, you slowly got up from the floor and checked the bag. Inside was a floral high-low dress with a black background, it wasn't your style at all. You preferred jeans instead of a dress that had been given to you but you needed to get out of the clothes he'd taken you in. You felt disgusting about being in the same clothes for the last 48 hours now, you kicked off the jeans and panties before finding the new ones and changing into everything that he'd given you.

"You look wonderful," You almost jumped out of your skin hearing a voice come out of nowhere you turned to look around at the door - it hadn't squeaked like the other times and Chan was standing in the entranceway to the basement wearing a black suit and looking at you.

"Thank you, you look nice." You didn't know how you were supposed to act around him or why you were now being treated like this but if it meant getting out of there soon you didn't care.

"I have a proposal for you and I hope you'll consider it...come." He held out his hand and gestured for you to walk towards him so you got up and limped over to him. He was like an entirely new person than the one that had come into you last night, your ankle was still sore from the chain so it took you some time to get over to him and he frowned at the sight of you. Guilt rushed through him as he realised the reason you were limping was that it was his idea to keep you chained up but he kept his face normal not wanting you to know he felt guilty. The boys had originally suggested locking you up in one of the many bedrooms but he thought this would be better so you knew he meant business.

"I'll get you an ice pack." He took your hand in his and walked you out into the hallway, it connected straight into a huge kitchen where all seven of his men were watching you closely.

"Nice to get out of the playpen?" Changbin joked looking you up and down before turning to look at Chan who was staring at your ankle,

"She needs ice." You followed Chan through to the living room and he sat you down on a white sofa, picking up your ankle and sitting it on a glass coffee table. You stared around the room, everything looked so expensive. Everything was white, spotless, practically everything was either marble or glass.

"Here," The cold compression woke you from your daydream and you looked to see Chan holding a bag of ice on your ankle right where you needed it.

"Thanks," You whispered looking from his hands up to his face, trying to study it while he was busy doing something else. He looked like he was annoyed about something but you couldn't place your finger on what it was, you hissed when he pushed on your ankle a little too much and he retracted his hands and handed you the bag of ice for you to do it yourself.

"My proposal... I erm..." He turned his head to see all of his henchmen watching him closely,

"Don't you all have something to be doing," They scrambled in different directions and you giggled as one of them slipped on the floor, Chan shook his head at them and turned to you to give you his attention.

"The proposal I'm offering...It's not an offer, you take it or you die." Your pulse quickened and your hand froze as you heard the words leave his mouth.

"Die?" He nodded getting up from the sofa and walking in front of you, he looked at you.

"You'll be staying here indefinitely, and you're not going to want to stay in the basement the whole time I suppose. So, I suggest we make your stay here as easy for you as possible." You were still trying to get your head around the fact that you would be staying there 'indefinitely' as he had said.

"Why am I staying here? I don't work for those people-"

"I can't prove that and neither can you. You will stay here, step in as someone I need around the house. I'll take you out when I need you, you'll attend the most luxurious of parties and you'll never work another day in your life." You blinked at him wondering why he was offering you this when the previous night he'd locked you in a basement and told you that you couldn't be trusted.

"You won't be left alone though, you will have a personal guard assigned to you to watch over you when I'm not around-"

"Why?"

"For protection-"

"No I mean, why me? I-I ruined your suit, you had me kidnapped, accused me of being a spy and now you want to keep me as a pet?"

"You intrigue me," He licked his lip and looked at you up and down,

"I do?" He nodded,

"I don't expect you to comply which is why I'll warn you now," He came closer to you and was so close to your face you could feel his breath on your skin as he stared down into your eyes,

"If you try to escape I will find those you love, it wouldn't be hard, and I will kill them, don't test me, darling." He would have a hard time doing that considering everyone you ever love or loved was dead but you nodded along to what he was saying. Already coming up with a way out of the hell hole. There was always a weak one in the chain, you just had to find who it was and play him like a violin.

"You'll stay?" You could have sworn his voice went up an octave as he heard you say you agreed to stay, and it did. He was genuinely happy that you were going to stay with him, there was no denying he found you attractive and wanted to get to know you more.

"Great, I mean...Good. I'll have a spare room made up for you." At least you would have your own room instead of being forced into sharing with him or locked up in the basement until he decided to kill you.

"Jisung!" You flinched as his voice screamed through the air and you looked at Chan who was now yelling in the direction of the kitchen, out came Jisung wearing a black suit. He stared at Chan and waited for orders.

"You'll be looking after Y/n. You don't let her out of your sight." Jisung nodded his head at what Chan was saying and then turned to look at you.

"Is there anything she needs to do?" He was talking at you but not to you, as if you weren't there.

"No. I'll have a whole new wardrobe custom made for her." Chan was now walking out of the room and out of the front door, as soon as it was shut Jisung relaxed and sat back on the sofa.

"What sort of things do you like to do, you're going to be here a while I'll get you something to do." You stared at him, finding the weak one was now easier. He'd just offered himself up to you on a silver platter.

"Reading, painting, anything really." You told him while you looked at him, you were trying to figure out an angle around this without coming across as obvious to him.

"How long have you been working for Chan?" He looked up at you, staring into your eyes trying to figure out what was wrong with you. The whole time you'd been in the basement you'd come across as cold and quiet to each of them and now you were talking to him as if you were friends.

"Three years, how long have you worked for Namjoon?" You folded your arms over your chest you didn't even know who Namjoon was just someone you'd seen in the papers and Jisung started chuckling at the disgusted look on your face,

"You'll hold up well here. Chan seems to like you, come on." He jumped up from the sofa and nodded over at the stairs,

"What's up there?" Your voice came out shaky and he smirked knowing you were scared of what was happening, it was a good thing. If you were scared you wouldn't run and you would make everyone else's job easy for them. No one would have to worry about you trying to run away or trying to call the police - not that you could, they were all under Chan's payroll.

"Mostly the things you need to stay busy, there are also some bedroom paints in the attic and I'm sure Seungmin won't mind helping you paint at some point." You stared at the back of his head while you walked, your head glanced over at the front door as almost as though he knew what you were doing he spoke out,

"It's got a thumb lock, it also has a keypad password which only Chan knows the lock to...You're stuck here doll face." Your face fell flat and you followed him silently, not wanting to say or do anything else.

Jisung had warmed up to you after a while, you began to question him on things that were around the house. There was a lot of art that looked homemade and he told you that Seungmin and Jeongin were the ones who were most creative with arts.

"What about you?"

"I prefer music, but we're not allowed to play it around the house." You stared at him as you sat in the kitchen, you were sitting on the kitchen side with your legs crossed, the dress was pooled in your lap to cover anything that could have been showing.

"No music?" He shook his head and handed you a cup of tea you'd asked for it when he offered you something.

"Why?" He looked at you and then around the kitchen as if Chan could possibly be able to hear him from wherever he was,

"It upsets him, his wife...She er- I mean someone-" He stopped himself from talking knowing it wasn't his place to talk about it

"It's okay." You could tell he was uncomfortable talking about it and you didn't want him to talk about it if he was going to get into trouble for it, despite being kidnapped by him he seemed really sweet and understanding. The nicest one beside Jeongin in the group,

"Your room will be done soon, do you want any specific colours?" He'd taken you to the attic but there were none that you liked.

"Could I go with you to pick them out, I'd feel better that way." He stared at you blankly and you knew it was a no from the moment he locked eyes with you.

"I'll write some colours down." You whispered, staring down into the liquid inside of the cup, you almost felt bad for what you were going to do to him to get out of there.

"Gardening...I used to love gardening as a kid. Can I do that here?" You'd already spotted a greenhouse out of the bathroom window, you'd tried to climb out but the gap was too small for even Felix to climb through.

"There's an old greenhouse in the garden, I'll take you once you finish your tea." You smiled kindly at him and began drinking the hot liquid and trying not to look too excited to get out of the small confines of this house, it wasn't small but you knew you were trapped so it didn't help you at all.

"This is the greenhouse? Looks like it hasn't been touched in years." There were overgrown weeds everywhere, and there were empty plant pots homing spiders. The truth was you probably couldn't keep a fake plant alive but you were already out here now, Jisung flipped a plant pot over and you could have sworn you heard him gasp when he saw a spider rush out and out of the door.

"You think you can make this place nice again? We used to go outside and have barbecues together. All of us together, Chan would cook." You could tell he missed the old Chan but you didn't push him for answers.

"Sure, am I allowed out here though?" He started laughing,

"It's not as though you can climb the 12-foot wall." You laughed along with him while staring at the wall, it was easily done...If you weren't in a dress and trying not to run for your life.

"I'm sure it'll be a nice surprise for Chan though, to see you warming up to this so quickly already. At least he won't have to kill anyone. He hates it."

"He does?" Jisung hummed and you bent down on the floor picking up plant pots and started putting them into a larger one to make it look as though you were doing something.

"He hates taking away a life that doesn't need to be taken. But don't get me wrong he will do it," Jisung was an idiot, he didn't realise it of course but he was an idiot but in the best kind of way for you.

"Why does he do it- Why do any of you do it?" He shrugged his shoulders and helped you move an old table from inside the greenhouse to the side of the wall without realising it, as long as you kept him engaged in conversation this was going to go easier than you expected.

"It's just a job, good pay. If we don't someone worse will...Someone else already is, we aren't the only mafia crew here." You knew that you'd be stupid if you didn't know that. The mafia ran everything within your city.

"What have you told my other boss and Mrs Lu?" You questioned, your mind going back to her in that small cafe running things alone without you there, Sid wouldn't care much he'd have plenty of other girls willing to take your spot as lead barmaid.

"You're on a holiday, she doesn't believe us. She knows Chan and what he does so she's probably assumed you're dead or working for Chan which I mean you kind of are...Let's just go on from here assuming everyone thinks you're dead." You nodded slowly and headed back into the greenhouse.

"I need some soil,"

"I'll check the shed, stay here." You watched from the door as he disappeared into a small brick shed, as soon as the wooden door shut behind him you took off in a sprint, jumping onto the table and hoping the wall. Thank god for your school forcing PE upon you or you would have died trying to do this, you jumped down and landed on your ankle wrong.

"Fuck." You whined out looking around, you were in the middle of nowhere, nothing but trees surrounding you, you hadn't thought this through at all. You had no idea where you were, you could have been in a different city by now.

"Y/N?!" Shit, you got up from the floor and rushed into the direction of the trees, limping as you tried not to put too much pressure on your bummed ankle. You should have waited, but you realised now that it was too late, there was no way you were scaling that 12-foot wall without a table behind you.

"Y/n?! I know you're out here! Come to me and you won't get hurt, Chan won't have to find out and no one will die because of you." Because of you. Those words cut through you but you continued trying to find your way through the trees but everything looked the same. Every single branch was the same as the other and there was no clearing for you to head into. There was light coming and you ran towards it, a road light. You were almost out, all you had to do was follow the road down until you could find someone but you heard Jisung practically singing your name and you stumbled falling onto the concrete road right in front of a black Porsche, it's brakes slammed and as soon as the door opened you'd wished it hit you.

"What do we have here? Far from home are we darling?" You looked at Chan, he walked over to you and squatted in front of you. He tutted as he looked at your dress which was now ripped, covered in mud and leaves from bushes you'd rushed past and then down at your ankle.

"You ripped your dress and look at the state of your ankle." He brushed his hand over it and you cried out instantly as he then grabbed it tightly pulling your body towards him so he could look into your eyes.

"What did I tell you would happen if you ran off?!" You started tearing up as he tightened his grip, when you didn't answer him right away it annoyed him. You'd been so cooperative until this point and now he was going to have to do something he really didn't like doing, he tightened his grip some more.

"People would die!" You screamed in his face and he scoffed at you,

"Screaming at me won't get you anywhere, baby girl." He let go and stared at you taking in a deep breath before sighing.

"We'll get you home and dressed, get you some ice and you can come to my office. Jisung!" Jisung came out from the trees and Chan nodded down at you.

"Bring her to my office when she's changed." Jisung nodded and bent down to pick you up, but Chan shook his head.

"You may help her walk but don't carry her." You whimpered as your foot came into contact with the pavement once again, the smallest amount of pressure was starting to hurt you now after what Chan had done to your ankle.

"If you'd have just listened, baby girl, no one would have to get hurt." You ignored his comment and he got into his car letting you and Jisung walk the three-mile walk back to his mansion.

"Ah, see. Here she is. What did I tell you, Mrs Lu? She's healthy and safe." Chan said with a bright smile on his face, you walked into his office in a clean white dress with Jeongin by your side who was quick to shut and lock the door after you both. You already hated the fact that she was there and you knew what was going to happen to her and you knew it was your fault.

"Chan. I won't do it again. Please." You pleaded with him, tears already welling up in your bloodshot eyes, Chan's smile quickly disappeared when he turned to look at you.

"I gave you strict rules princess and you broke them, no second chances." You swallowed the lump in your throat as your eyes travelled to the desk, there was a knife sitting there and you let the tears fall down your cheeks.

"I'll never do it again, I promise Chan. It was an accident. Please." Your voice broke and Mrs Lu stared between you, confused by what was happening. She had no idea what was about to happen and that she was about to be killed.

"Hug her." He ordered you and you looked over at Mrs Lu, not knowing what to even say to her. Sorry? Sorry seemed like the best option.

"She has a husband!" You yelled at him but Chan didn't care. Why should he care? The mafia that killed his wife didn't care when they slaughtered her for information on him.

"Y/n," You whimpered as you heard the calm tone coming from Mrs Lu, she was too young for this she was only 75 years old, way too young for any of this to be happening to her. She took your face in her hands and wiped the tears from your cheeks with her thumbs as she stared into your eyes.

"I'm fine. Don't do anything stupid okay? If you can, Mr Lu, he doesn't know where the coupons are so you need to tell him, you need to tell him where my will is too." You nodded at her and she kissed your nose before looking at Chan.

"Does she at least get to be out of the room?" Mrs Lu questioned, she knew what was about to happen to her now that you were being told to hug her goodbye, Chan shook his head, he knew deep down he felt awful for doing this but if he didn't you would just try to leave him again and he didn't want that he couldn't have you leaving him again. He picked up the knife and Jeongin grabbed you tightly from behind pulling you into his chest to the side of the room. You closed your eyes tightly as soon as the knife was drawn back. It wasn't like the movies, there was no kind of sound effect, just the sound of gargling and broken sobs as you opened your eyes to see Chan lying a white cloth over her body.

"Red is a really good colour on you." You looked down at the white dress you were wearing which was now splattered with her blood, your face had a couple drops on it but Chan's shirt was covered in it as if someone had dipped it in the blood.

"Take her for a shower, Felix is on first shift for the night. You won't try anything else will you?" You stared at the blood on the floor it was all that took over your mind, watching as it began seeping into the carpet and leaking towards his feet, kind of like red wine on the floor.

"I'm talking to you." He titled your chin up to him with the knife coating your chin in more blood,

"I won't try it again." You repeated to him and he smiled happily that you were finally planning on staying, leaning down and giving you a kiss on the cheek.

"Go to sleep darling, you've had enough excitement for today." Jeongin's grip on you loosened and you limped out of the room towards your bedroom.

"He doesn't want-" Felix was trying to justify what was happening but you weren't about to let him get away with this.

"Want to kill? Because to me, it looked like he enjoyed that Felix!" You snapped at him before he could talk, the younger boy looked taken back but you didn't care. He was probably just like Chan and Jisung, cold-blooded and didn't care about anyone else but themselves.

Tagline: @moonprincessdiviniation (My wonderful and beautiful editor) @taestannie @kneel-begyourpardon @calling-dips-on-j-hope @hugs4chan @ncitythoughts @inseonqt @cloudsgathering @peachyhan

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starsstruck · 4 years

Text

cloudbusting; part one.

a classic coffee shop story. harry is a painter that quickly becomes a regular at his neighbourhood cafe, and it just might have something to do with a certain barista. hazy opening shifts, paintings on walls, and new regulars.

pairing: harry x reader warnings: language words: 8.3k

art by holly warburton. (i have no vision for the mc of the fic, people in the images of paintings i use are purely because this is how i envision harry’s art to be !)

series masterlist | story tag

a/n: first part !! i am so excited (and slightly nervous) to start and share this story i really hope everyone enjoys <3. as always, please share if you can and i would love to hear your thoughts !

There was a lot you liked about the city, especially the city in the morning.

The walk you always made to work wasn’t too long, the day still early enough that there were only a handful of people out along with you. Some joggers, some dog walkers, some people heading to work and likely some heading home.

Grateful for the sun being up before you were, the July morning already heating up the early air of the day. Feet moving you quickly through the Brooklyn Heights neighbourhood, you walked the last few blocks that led you from your apartment to the coffee shop.

The one thing you didn’t like about the summer morning, was that the air was making your eyes itch.

It was that fresh morning haze, the one that held the night’s humidity and somehow the night’s pollen as well, having you rub your nose for what seemed like the thousandth time that morning.

The sky had turned a light blue, a warm glow just rising over the buildings as you crossed the road, your hand already in your bag to fish out your keys.

Grabbing the newspaper that was placed on the street by the door, tucking it under your arm, and unlocked the door to the café. Stepping inside and promptly closing and relocking the door behind you. The air inside was stuffy and hot as it always was in the summer especially after a lack of airflow all night.

Punching in the security code, haphazardly throwing your bag and keys on the counter before shrugging off your jacket, already finding yourself feeling too hot. It was always the same path you followed, every opening shift.

Turning off the alarm, dumping your things on the counter, moving further behind the counter to turn on the iPad where POS were made, before walking into the even hotter back room to turn on the sound system. One of your playlists was already queued, soon the sound of Lizzo blasting through the shop while you moved to prep and bake the pastries.

Your body worked on auto pilot, not even having to think that much; preheating ovens and unwrapping thawing croissants. The air conditioning was slowly settling in the large space, grabbing yourself a glass of iced water to help cool yourself down.

Opening didn’t take very long; it was just the food prep that took a bit longer and needed you to come in a slightly earlier than necessary.

The café would be opening in about twenty minutes, and all you had left to do was brew the drip coffee and dial the espresso. It was always simultaneously your favourite and least favourite part of opening.

It gave you your first taste of coffee of the day, but it also meant you had to take multiple sips thus drinking too much coffee at once in the morning. Scrunching your nose at the acidic taste of the first shot you pulled, promptly dumping it out in the sink and rinsing out your mouth with some water.

Every opening shift was the same, hands moving without your mind as you pulled a few more shots, adjusting the grind of your espresso.

Two minutes until opening; you flipped through the daily newspaper and easily found the crossword, taking out the section that contained it to put it aside.

Grabbing the sign that would sit outside in one hand, you unlocked the front door and placed it on the sidewalk by the door. Moving the patio furniture that was kept inside at night, laying it out along the side of the café across the windows.

Changing your playlist as the clock changed to 7:00, the soft sounds of Leif Vollbeckk filling the space. Grabbing your laptop from your bag, hoping for a slow morning as you pulled up order forms you needed to fill out for next weeks deliveries. Filling a glass with ice, deciding to finish off the rest of the cold brew –knowing there wouldn’t be enough to fill up a cup to sell to a customer.

“Morning!”

Smiling at the sound of the familiar voice, diverting your attention from the spreadsheets on the screen to see the older man walking up towards the counter.

“You’re here early today.” Grinning, you pushed yourself away from the counter and grabbed the crossword puzzle and a pen that were put aside earlier.

“I’m going for lunch with my son later,” Dani sat himself in the plushy chair he loved so much. “I still wanted to make sure I could come in for my coffee.”

Handing him the crossword that was always saved for him, knowing he loved to get to it first.

“Let me know when you want your coffee,” you hummed, hands resting on your hips.

“I’ll take it right away today.” He told you, as you watched him reach in the paper bag he brought with him, pulling out a bagel.

He often brought his own food. You really didn’t care that he didn’t patronize the café for its food, and only the coffee. He came in nearly every day, sometimes two times in a day and he was definitely one of your favourite faces to see walk through the doors.

“I brought you some breakfast.”

Another reason why you really didn’t care was that he often brought you a little treat along with his own. He was familiar with everyone who worked with you, constantly asking about the schedule and who would be working when so he knew who to expect. But you knew that you were his favourite, and he never forgot to tell you that.

“You didn’t have to,” you smiled, as he waved off your comment and handed you your own bagel. “Thank you.”

“I know how you are in the morning, always running out of time and forgetting to eat.”

Leaving it with him at his table, making the short distance to go back behind the counter to get his coffee ready.

“It’s going to be hot out today.”

You listened as Dani spoke to you in the empty coffee shop, making the obliged daily weather talk. “I know. It was far too hot in here already when I came in.”

The big windows that didn’t have blinds acted as heaters in the morning, the rising sun shinning through them and heated up the entire coffee shop. The air conditioning that was recently turned on was starting to help with the air flow, but it was still heavy and humid around you.

Your hands working on muscle memory alone as you twisted your arm, tamping the espresso and clicking the portafilter in on the machine. Grabbing the little scale you used to weigh out the water, still early in the day and tinkering with the grind of the espresso, making slight adjustments.

Steaming the milk until you felt it hot enough, knowing Dani liked it extra extra hot no matter the time of year. Tapping the air bubbles out until you were satisfied, filling the paper cup up only halfway, just the way Dani wanted it.

“For you,” walking back to the regular customer, placing his coffee in front of him and seating yourself in the empty seat beside him.

You watched as he took a sip of the coffee, smile on his face. “Excellent as always.”

It was mostly a joke amongst everyone, that Dani would always personally review everyone’s skill at making his drink. It still gave you little ego boost every time he commented on how well you made coffee.

“I’m glad,” you said, swirling the ice around your glass before taking a long sip. You sat together for a bit, eating your bagels together while Dani told you about how his grandkids were doing.

This was probably one of your favourite parts of your job, getting to know the regulars. It was always so nice when you saw them walk in with a big smile, asking how you were doing and how things were going in your life.

Dani was obviously by far your favourite. He sometimes brought in his kids and grandkids, a big order of coffee going around as he bought everyone their drinks. He had lost his wife a couple years back, telling you that ever since then he was always looking for a new routine, and you were so happy to be a part of his daily pattern.

Your conversation was interrupted as a couple and their child walked into the shop, recognizing them as regulars as well while they waved hello to you.

Making your way back to behind the counter, putting their orders through. You knew they lived in the neighbourhood; you often saw them around. It was endearing, how often they came in for a little breakfast and coffee together with their daughter who couldn’t be older than four.

Things were starting to pick up slightly, a few other people stopping by for a coffee and breakfast to go on their way to work. You kept darting your eyes over to the big window that faced the street, checking the time over and over knowing that you had a milk delivery coming in at any time.

“Are your croissants baked in house?”

“Yes,” you nodded, not technically lying. “We get them frozen from a bakery, and we proof and bake them here every morning.”

“So are they fresh?” The middle-aged man asked, eyes glancing over to where the food sat in the display case.

“Yes,” you repeated. “They were baked this morning.”

He nodded again, pausing for a second. “I’ll just take this.” He grabbed for a muffin that sat in front of him.

You only nodded, blowing out a quiet sigh from between your lips. Already finding your patience running a bit thin this morning. Really for no particular reason, other than it would finally be your day off tomorrow.

Putting his order through, grabbing the itemized receipt for yourself so you wouldn’t forget what his drink was and bagged up his muffin.

You heard the door open, glancing up to see someone else walk through the door. “Can you make mine right away?” The man who had just ordered glanced towards the door as well, seeing the other customer walk in. “I’m in a rush.”

Only nodding, narrowing your eyes at him slightly in annoyance. If anything, him telling you that he was in a rush made you want to make his drink even slower. Still, ever the good customer service employee, you pulled the shots you needed. Steaming the soy milk and making a bit of a messy design with the milk, not quite caring about how his latte turned out.

“Thanks, sweetheart.” You didn’t hide the wrinkle in your nose at the use of the pet name, the man not even noticing as he struggled to get the lid on, spilling a bit of the latte on the counter before he headed towards the door.

Plastering your fake smile on your face, going back to the till to take the order of the client who had been waiting. “Hi there, thank you for waiting.”

You glanced around the space by the register, knowing that the pen you liked the use was sitting on the counter somewhere. “What can I get for you today?”

“Do you have bulletproof coffee?” Deep accent pulling your attention away from the search for your pen, facing the man standing on the other side of the counter.

“Uh –” you paused and bit your lips together for a beat, trying not to show your distaste. “No, I’m sorry.”

“That’s too bad,” the customer hummed, craning his neck to look at the menu board that hung behind you.

Is it really though? You saw your pen tucked between two receipts on the counter next to you, gripping it between your index and middle finger.

“I think Garden Coffee might have it? They’re a couple block down.”

Pointing in general direction of the neighbouring coffeehouse, personally not finding a liking to their coffee. It was a very similar set up to where you worked, but in your opinion, they tried far too hard to mimic a trendy third wave coffee shop and came off highly pretentious.

“No, no that’s okay,” the guy smiled at you. “I’ll have an espresso. Are they doubles?”

Nodding, you put his order into the system. “All the espresso drinks come as doubles, but I can do a single if you’d like? Or a shorter shot.”

You were mindlessly flipping the pen between your fingers, eyes continuously darting out the window just knowing the milk delivery was about to arrive. “No, a double would be perfect.”

“Sounds good,” you said. “Was that going to be for here or to go?”

“Here,” he nodded, opening his wallet.

“And was that going to be all for you today?” Not even fully paying attention, speaking through every line you asked customers before finalizing their order.

“Yeah – thank you.”

Telling him his total, opening the till as you dug out his change.

“Any reason you don’t have bulletproof coffee?” He brought your attention over to him again while you double checked you had the right amount of change.

It’s gross. “It’s not very popular,” you told him truthfully. “We don’t get asked for it too often either. Plus,” you tried to hide your grimace at the thought. “It’s a bit of an odd order. Not many people like it.”

He laughed at that. “Guess it is a bit of a refined taste.”

You could only nod, refined not really being the word to come to mind but you weren’t going to tell him that. Heading over to the corner where the espresso machine sat, quickly going through the same motions all over again and waited for the little mug to fill.

Taking a sip of your water as you watched the seconds pass on the machine, the slow and steady pour of the espresso landing right into the cup.

The man who had just ordered had wandered over to where orders were to be picked up, glancing around the space. “I’ve never been here before,” he was standing opposite of the espresso machine, half of him hidden behind it. “It’s a nice place.”

“Yeah, I like it,” you nodded, not glancing up at him to stop the espresso, tapping the little cup on the counter once the pour ended. You never knew what to say when people complimented the coffee shop, saying thank you seemed a bit odd since you weren’t the owner, but any other response always sounded the slightest bit off.

“Espresso for here,” you smiled, placing the little cup on a plate, spoon next to it and slid it over to the counter towards him. He was leaning closer to the wall, arms crossed over his chest and eyes slightly narrowed, likely observing the paintings that hung up on that wall.

Your name was called through the café, attention being pulled away to see Dani now standing, empty cup in hand.

“Bye!” He called, waiting for you to walk to his side of the counter as he handed back the pen that you had lent him. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“No,” you shook your head, watching a look of mock shock dawn Dani’s face. “Even I need a day off.”

“That’s true,” he laughed. “Get your rest, I’ll see you Saturday.”

Waving bye to him once again, attention turning to another patron that was waiting for you by the till. Another morning regular, putting their order through quickly and heading over to make it.

“How does one get their art up here?”

“Sorry?” You weren’t paying attention, small diversions all around you.

The incoming milk delivery being on the top of your list of things to think about; next to making the iced americano, cleaning up some milk you spilt, and the shrill cries coming from the toddler seated directly across from you.

“The art.” The guy who had asked about bulletproof coffee was still standing in the same spot, small mug in hand, by the series of paintings that covered the wall. “Who – I mean how could I get my art up there?”

It was a common question, but not one you could get into right away because it was just then that you saw the familiar logo on the white truck pull up across the street, signaling your milk delivery.

It was like this every week, but you hated when you were alone and this delivery came. Since it was one that you had to put away right away, and if customers came in they would get fussy because you had to be in the back, putting away all the dairy since it couldn’t exactly sit out for that long.

“Uh –” you smiled at the regular when you handed him his iced americano, turning to the other customer who had the question about the art. “Sorry, just a sec.”

Watching through the window as the delivery man made his way with a dolly packed with crates. Moving from behind the counter and taking the short walk to the front door, propping the door open for him.

Greeting him as you usually did, grabbing the order form from him to sign while he brought the dolly around the back, knowing where the milk went. Quickly signing your name at the bottom as you reviewed the order, shoving your pen back into your pocket to go fill up the back fridge with rows and rows of milk jugs.

The delivery man had already left, and you knew he was going to be coming back with more so you worked as quickly as possible, keeping an eye on the front counter to make sure there were no impatient customers waiting for you.

Stepping out of the back room, searching for the folder where you kept receipts and order forms from deliveries. Delivery man promptly returning, leaving another stack of crates for you before he headed off to use the restroom.

“Do you need a hand?”

“Jesus,” you couldn’t help the small curse at the unexpected voice and presence that made itself known next to you.

Accented voice pulling you out of your thoughts once again, seeing the bulletproof coffee man standing far too close to the inside where only staff were allowed in. Realizing he was offering to help with putting away the milk, you narrowed your eyes slightly at the odd offer of help.

“What…” you paused, fully taking in his appearance for the first time. He was young, probably around the same age as you. Brown hair that fell in floppy curls around his face, square jaw and bright eyes that completed his whole charming look.

“I’m good, thanks,” you took a step towards him, hoping he would get the hint and take a step outside of the space that was really just for staff. He seemed to catch on, watching you with a little smile playing on his lips.

“Sorry,” you found yourself apologizing, remembering he was waiting for an answer about the paintings. “I just have to –” sticking your thumb to point behind your shoulder, motioning to the dairy that was left to be put away. “I’m nearly done.”

“No worries, take your time.” He smiled, and you couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit watched as you walked through the narrow back room to where the fridge sat in the back, unloading the rest of your delivery.

Finishing up, waving goodbye to the delivery man you knew very well you’d see again in a week’s time as he wheeled away empty crates on his dolly.

Searching for where you last placed your coffee and half eaten bagel, grateful to not have seen a single new customer and you added some more ice to your now watered down cold brew.

Eyes flitting over to where the bulletproof coffee drinker stood by the counter where you had left him, seeing him currently glancing at the space around him. You yanked open the messy drawer next to the till, rifling through it while you looked for the business cards you knew you kept somewhere deep down.

“Here,” grabbing the attention of the man who was observing paintings on the other wall, leaving the inside from behind the counter, to the open floor of the café.

He turned around to face you, eyes dropping down to the card you extended out to him. “The art doesn’t go through us. This woman here,” you motioned to the card. “She runs it, in a few coffee shops actually.”

You had only met Janeen a handful of times – when the art got switched out and a couple other times when she came in for a coffee. She was probably in her late fifties, a painter herself.

“Some of the art up right now is actually hers,” you glanced around, pointing to a few you were fairly certain belonged to Janeen, all for sale.

“Great thank you.” He gripped the card between his fingers, eyebrow furrowing slightly as his eyes skimmed over the name and email on Janeen’s card. He really must be an artist. Catching what you assumed was dried paint on his hands, the deep blue swiped over his skin standing out.

“Do you know how I should like, submit art to her? Or if there’s a process or anything?”

“I don’t, sorry,” offering him a small sympathetic smile. “It’s out of our hands, best bet would be to talk to Janeen about it.”

“Is there a manger I could ask?” He was glancing behind you as if you weren’t working alone.

Narrowing your eyes at him, knowing it was an easy mistake and was not at all meant to be a rude comment towards you, but for some reason you found yourself so socially exhausted so early in the morning.

“I am the manger.”

It came out a bit harsher than intended, but you didn’t care too much by this point. You saw his eyes visibly widen, mouth part slightly. “Oh -” tripping over his words as he held your narrowed gaze. “Sorry, I… I didn’t mean anything –”

He was cut off, saved by the bell if you will, to a group of young women walking through the door which meant you had to excuse yourself and head back behind the counter.

Mind drifting as you took their orders, feeling slightly peeved with the way the conversation with the apparent artist went. You knew you shouldn’t take it personally, customer’s said things all the time that really shouldn’t be taken seriously.

But it was small things like that, that had your mind trickling down a drain of will I ever be taken seriously and what am I doing with my life.

You loved your job, for the most part at least, you really did. But there was always that little voice of doubt inside of you, telling you that you weren’t doing enough with your life.

And when someone seemed to doubt the things you accomplished in life, it left a bad taste in your mouth and an unhealthy train of thoughts bringing your mood down.

At its core, it was pretty dumb to be irked by a comment asking for the manager. It was obviously because as the manager, you felt like maybe your position wasn’t well deserved, or like it shouldn’t be what you’re doing.

After making two iced mochas, cleaning up the small mess of spilt chocolate on the counter before digging out the folder where order forms were a bit haphazardly placed. Deciding now was the best time as ever to start putting them in order.

Glancing at the clock, you saw it was just barely past 8:30. You realized you still had about six hours left on your shift. Your eyes quickly shifted around the shop, seeing mostly empty tables as most of the morning customers got their orders to go. There weren’t any dishes pilled up anywhere, not yet at least.

The man who had been asking you about the art seemed to be finally seated, hunched over a table in the corner with a little book in front of him, twirling a pencil between his fingers the same way you did. You felt a bit bad for snapping at him, but you didn’t feel like entertaining conversation with him again.

Heading to the back room again, deciding that soft indie guitar wasn’t really the mood anymore, you changed your playlist once again.

A soft sigh left your mouth again, already feeling done with this day. You don’t really know why you felt so on edge. It was likely because today was the last day before a day off, after working a long stretch of shifts without much of a break.

Hours trickled by, the day never really picking up with just a slow stream of customers coming in. It gave you time to finalize the upcoming weeks schedule, sending it out to the rest of the staff.

It was just before one o’clock when Aleena came in, bright smile on her face when she greeted you.

Aleena as by far your favourite co-worker. She was in her mid thirties and was an absolute sweetheart. She was, for lack of a better term, your work wife.

When the both of you worked together you were always on the same page, not having to talk to know what the other one was thinking. The two of you would take turns bringing each other lunch, or snacks, or just little treats for each other.

“How has today been?” Joining her in the back room, shooting a glance to the front to make sure no customers were coming in.

“Hey Leena! It’s been okay,” you shrugged, watching her hang up her purse. “Pretty slow, which is kind of nice. I’m just,” you blew out a sigh for what felt like the hundredth time. “Tired today. I don’t really feel like talking to customers.”

She offered you a sympathetic smile. “You’re off tomorrow, yeah? Hope you have the time to relax, and see your friends.”

“I am! I’m seeing Mae tomorrow, she managed to get the day off too.”

“That’ll be good! You know if its slow it’s okay if you want to leave early today.”

You had an hour left on your shift, a small overlap between workers. It was unusual, to have one person working alone all day. Usually one person opened and then was joined by another later in the day, and the two people would close together with some staff changes in the middle of the day.

But with a last minute shift change due to someone getting food poisoning, you spent all day alone and Aleena would be closing alone. You had offered to come back in later in the day to help her close, since it was a bit of a feat to do alone, but she has insistently refused and said you needed your time off.

“I think I might…” you smiled at her. “If you’re okay here! I doubt it’ll pick up, the sales today have been really low.”

“Of course,” she waved you off. “Go, go. I’ll be okay.”

Forever grateful for Aleena, wrapping her in a little side hug as you bid your goodbyes and promised you’d bring her some baked treats next time to thank her.

“Oh! And the schedule is out, and I’ve already done the ordering for next week so there’s nothing else to worry about. Take it easy today.”

Gathering up your things and making yourself some iced tea for the road, swinging your bag over your shoulder and dreaming of the next day and a half of putting your feet up, and seeing your friends, not giving the shop one more look now that you were off.

You were never really one for routines.

Rather, you weren’t really one to be setting routines, instead letting them work into place for you. In a sense, you still really didn’t a set routine, forever slightly disorganized.

Your weekly schedule was always a bit different, depending on the shifts you had. Sometimes it would be the same ones for weeks on end, being able to find a good groove with them.

But that never lasted. You didn’t mind though, always saying that you were just taking life as it came.

The one big consistency was the walk from your front door to behind the counter at work. No matter the time of day, it was always the same. Walking the steps down from your building and out to the street, sometimes taking your time and sometimes your pace quick.

And when you opened the door to work, you would head to the back room first, take a few seconds, and then face the rest of your day.

This Saturday was no different at all.

Waving hello to your, after the much needed day off, shutting the door to the staff room behind you for a second of peace before the long shift started.

“How’s the day been?” After taking a minute by yourself, you walked out and stopped to ask one of your coworkers, Erinne, about the sales so far.

“Busy,” she sighed, turning away from the till to face you. “Finally slowed down for a bit, but I’m sure it’ll be the same this afternoon.”

You only nodded, glancing around the space to see Aleena and another colleague, Noah, working on bar. They were cleaning up grounds that littered the counter and arranging milk in the small fridge underneath the bar.

Signs of a rush that hit the café, the quick clean up that was needed before another wave of people came in.

“Well, I’m off.” Erinne said from next to you, clocking out of the system.

You didn’t have a single bad thing to say about any of your coworkers, or least you pretended that you didn’t. When you became manager, you knew that you were no longer able to gossip too much or talk about baristas you didn’t like.

Still, you couldn’t help but slightly dislike Erinne. She showed no sign of ever really listening to you, only doing half a job even when you reminded her to finish her duties.

“Have a good rest of your day,” you smiled to her, watching her reach for her phone that was in her back pocket as she headed to the back to grab her things.

Walking over to the back, greeting Aleena and Noah, promptly making yourself a drink to get a little caffeine boost. “How was your day off?”

“Really good,” you nodded, smacking your lips at the slightly bitter espresso, making a mental note to double check that later.

Filling in Aleena on your day off, before the conversation was ultimately interrupted by a group coming in. She went to the till, taking their orders while Noah stayed on bar to make the drinks. You saw them not needing that much help, no yet anyway, deciding to grab the dish bin to collect the emptied mugs you spotted left behind on tables.

Walking to the back of the shop first, finding a few mugs stacked and abandoned. Propping the dish bin against your hip, gathering up the dishes to be cleaned. Eyeing over seated customers, catching snippets of their conversations as you walked by.

Your eyes fell to a table tucked in the corner, recognizing the man who had been asking you about who to contact in relation the paintings on that hung on the wall. He had the same black book in front of him, pencils laid out around the table with one in hand, tapping it against the table.

He glanced up at you seemingly when you walked by, eyes flitting over to yours. He sent you a small smile as you bussed the table across from his, your eyes briefly leaving his to glance up to the front of the café, making sure the line wasn’t that long.

“I emailed Janeen.”

His voice pulled your attention back to him, as you picked up the buss bin again, not seeing any more dirty dishes that needed to be run through the dishwasher. He was obviously talking to you.

“That’s good,” you didn’t know what else to say.

He put down the pencil he was tapping against the table, closing the book in front of him. “I – I’m sorry about the other day –”

You were nearly embarrassed about snapping at him. Shrugging as your lips twitched to a little smile, gaze falling over the table in front of him. He had another espresso in front of him, this time over ice. “You don’t need to apologize.”

“I didn’t mean it like – you couldn’t be manager or anything. Just –” he motioned with his hands, as if replacing his words. “Looking to get some more exposure for my art.”

“Is a little coffee shop really the best exposure?”

“I mean,” he shrugged, sitting back in his chair. “I’ll take what I can get.”

“That’s fair.” Assuming the conversation was over, glancing back up to see Aleena taking someone’s order.

“How long have you been working here?”

“Hm? Over two years now.” Glancing back at him, hearing the door opening and most likely welcoming more paying customers.

“That’s a while,” he nodded, shifting in his chair again.

You nodded absentmindedly, seeing two large groups walk in the café, knowing you needed to head over to work behind the counter. “Sorry – I need to head back.”

“Of course,” he sat back again. “Sorry again.”

The sound of your name on his lips stopped you in your tracks. You turned back towards him, brow furrowed and mouth slightly gaped open.

“Heard a customer say your name last time,” he spoke before you could ask how he knew your name. “I’m Harry.”

“Nice to meet you,” words mumbled, quick nod in his direction before you were walking back towards the counter with your dish bin in hand.

It wasn’t uncommon, that customers would learn your name. No one wore nametags, so it gave a slight ounce of anonymity.

Obviously, regulars like Dani got to know you pretty well.

But it wasn’t all of them. Some customers would introduce themselves to you and ask for your name even though you swore you’d only seen them once, and some would come in everyday without the slightest inclination of wanting to get to know you.

Harry watched you walk away, disappearing to the back room before he heard a loud clang of dishes, assuming you set down the bin that you had been holding. He saw you reappear again, quickly walking over to the register and putting a hand on your coworkers’ shoulder, telling her something.

He looked around the coffee shop again, glancing at the paintings that decorated the walls. He had already taken his time to look at each and every one, nearly all of them by the same artist. They were all beach scenes, the talent of the artist very apparent in the way that they painted the reflections off the water.

Though the only one that really stood out to Harry was one depicting a sunset, bright oranges and reds filling the entire frame.

He glanced down to his own orange coloured pencil in hand, the haphazard shapes and scribbles that were on the page in front of him. He hadn’t made much progress as he tried to plan out his next series. All he knew is that he was currently very drawn to orange, tangerine to be exact, and that he wanted this next series to be big.

He still had yet to find it, the small idea that would start to form in the back of his mind that would grow into something huge. His inspiration usually came from little mundane ideas, liking to take his time to observe everything around him.

The warm glow from the sun cast through the windows, the harsh hiss of the steam wand from the espresso machine, the crumbs that fell around a child eating their croissant.

He took the last sip of his coffee, crunching the spare bits of ice that fell out of the cup and under his teeth.

Sketching random faces he saw around him, eyes moving all around the space. Gaze flitting over to where he saw you reappear for a very brief second, placing a now empty dish bin out for customers to fill, before spinning way and disappearing from his line of sight again.

The scuffed white floor wasn’t one that was particularly nice, per se, but it gave a feeling that this shop was lived in and well frequented. There was one wall that was all wood, with little shelves lined against it. Potted plants and random books placed on the shelves, next to a little sign that read “take a book, leave a book”.

He had no idea how he’d never seen this café. He must have passed it a few times at least, never really noticing it until the other morning when he walked a different route.

It was big and open, but still felt warm. The ambiance inside wasn’t stiff or off-putting, instead it was inviting and bright.

Even on a day like today, where the lineup at the register never really seemed to go away, there was a calmness in the air and not intensity or stress.

Which is why he came back a couple days later, bright and early on Monday morning. He realized it was a slight oversight on his part, getting there a bit too early, before the doors were even unlocked.

Seeing as he had about ten minutes to kill, deciding to take another walk around the block while he waited. Going down the street and walking past the shop, squinting lightly to gaze through the windows.

Harry saw you at the counter, gloved hands holding a knife as you carefully sliced a loaf, one he assumed to be banana bread. Your eyebrows were lightly drawn together, concentrating on the task at hand.

Amused to see you grab what appeared to be a thinner piece away from the others, breaking off a corner and popping it into your mouth. He didn’t realize he had stopped walking, until your attention diverted away from the cutting board in front of you and up out the window.

He immediately heated up as your eyes found his, embarrassed to be found watching you through the window. He was already certain he hadn’t made a great impression on you, and this wasn’t really helping his case.

Your lips moved in a small smile, eyes darting away from his for a beat. He followed your gaze, assuming you were looking up at the clock that hung on the wall.

The next time he glanced at you, you had placed the knife on the cutting board and were walking around the counter until you reach the door to his left.

“Were you waiting to come in, or?”

Propping the door open a bit, waiting as Harry walked the few needed steps over to you. “Yeah! I know you’re not open yet so –”

You moved aside, keeping the door open. “You can wait inside, if you’d like.”

“Thank you,” he said, after a slight pause. He was a bit shocked to have you inviting him in like this even with only a few minutes left until the shop opened.

“Yeah, no worries,” you closed the door behind him after he walked in. “Although,” you spoke again, already walking back to the counter. “I won’t serve you for another eight minutes.”

He could hear a small smile in your voice, even with your back turned to him. He only laughed in response, putting his bag down at the same table he sat at last time, secluded and tucked away in the corner and with the sun’s rays hitting the wall next to it.

Suddenly the music around him changed, mood going from loud and upbeat, to soft and soothing with what seemed like the volume being turned down quite a bit. Harry couldn’t see you form where he sat, but he heard the occasional tap turning on and whir of a coffee grinder.

He waited a bit longer, making sure it was past seven before he walked up to the register. You were standing in front of the espresso machine, swirling a little clear glass a couple times before you took a sip.

“Espresso this morning?”

You hadn’t moved from your spot, taking another little sip from the glass in hand.

“Please,” grabbing his wallet from his pocket, digging through for some folded bills. You walked the short distance to the till, standing in front of him with the counter separating the two of you.

Wordlessly grabbing the money from the counter, putting the order through and counting up the change. “Oh, keep the change.” He smiled, refusing your extended hand.

“Thank you,” you murmured, palm opening to let the coins fall into the tip jar in front of you.

He followed you, from opposite sides of the counter as you moved to the back where the espresso machine sat. “It might be a bit bitter,” your voice cut through the shop. “I’m still adjusting it a bit, so let me know if its no good.”

“Will do,” Harry nodded, hearing the whir of the grinder as you prepared his coffee. He didn’t know why he was suddenly finding himself so unsure of what to say to you, very aware of the emptiness of the shop.

A beat of silence passed, the only noise in the shop coming from the music blaring through the speakers. He’d never heard it before, quickly finding a liking to whatever you were playing.

“Have you heard from Janeen?”

The question took him aback slightly. “No, not yet anyway.”

You hummed from behind the counter, tapping the cup on the counter like you had last time, before placing it on a little plate and sliding it over to him. “I think they’re changing the current painting’s soon. She’ll for sure be in for that so I can ask her about it if you’d like.”

He beamed. “That would be great! Thank you.”

Getting a taste of the coffee you had just made him. “It’s good,” he nodded. “Not too bitter.”

Another moment of silence fell, and that would be when Harry should’ve grabbed his coffee and walked away but for some reason, he didn’t want to leave the counter just yet.

You broke the silence again. “You’re here really early for a sit-down coffee, and not a to go.”

“Is that odd?” Harry was curious of why you brought it up.

“I mean,” you only shrugged, moving from where you stood to do something behind the espresso machine he couldn’t quite see. “Not really but – usually early morning regulars who get coffee for here are above the age of sixty. At a minimum.”

Harry laughed, watching you fiddle with the blue mugs that sat on top of the machine. “I’m just up early I guess. I like the sunrise.”

You smiled in return, and Harry thought that maybe he hadn’t made that bad of an impression on you after all. He didn’t know why he was so suddenly drawn to this café, drawn to spending his free time here, but he warmed when you mirrored his grin.

But when he heard the door open behind him, and you moved to greet the customer that came in, he realized that it was simply your job to be nice to him.

“Someone’s here before me!”

Harry recognized the older man from the other day, the one who had called out your name when he said bye to you.

“I thought I got the first coffee of the day?”

You laughed, grabbing a cup from where they sat stacked. “You didn’t get the first, but you get the best.”

Moving to make Dani’s drink, pulling a shot and steaming the extra hot milk, bringing the cup over once the drink was made to where he sat at his usual table.

Harry had gone to sit back down, once again hunched over a black book with a pencil twirling between his fingers.

You took your time to fully notice his appearance. He loose fit blue jeans, with an off-white teeshirt that read something you didn’t quite catch, slightly tucked in. You had never fully noticed the tattoos that covered one of his arms before, only briefly catching glances of them but in this moment, they seemed to stand out even more.

His hair was falling over his forehead as he leant over the table, and you couldn’t help but admire the clear cut of this jaw that was apparent to you as you gazed at his profile. Your eyes fell back to his hands, fingers toying with a pencil. Even from slightly further back, you could see some green splotches of paint on his skin.

You were slightly curious to what he was doing.

Always a bit nosy, especially with customers that you recognized to come in more than once. Whether they were writing a novel, reading a book, working from home; you liked to see what people would come in to do.

Both you and Aleena loved to discuss the personal lives of regulars, mapping out your own stories for the lives your customers lived. Based off who they came in with and small tidbits they would share with you.

You liked to think that you were good at reading people, and that you could more or less understand people just based off small interactions.

It was obvious to you that Harry was going to become a new regular. He had already come in three times in the past five days.

You wished you weren’t working alone, because you found yourself needing to talk to someone about him. Although you knew nearly nothing about him. Only the fact that he for some reason liked bulletproof coffee, that he was an artist, and that he liked to wear vans.

Another thing you did know, was that making him his coffee was going to become part of your work routine.

He always ordered an espresso, sometimes over ice. From the few times that you walked past his table and stole quick glances at the sketchbook that he always carried, he seemed to be working on bright colourful sketches. Always using pencil crayons, and never pencils or pens.

He had become such a quick new regular, that even Dani was talking to him. The both of them often came in the earliest out of anyone else.

In the past three weeks, he had come in nearly every day that you were working. He usually came in bright and early, right after the doors were unlocked and would seat himself comfortably in the back.

On the days when you weren’t opening and would stay to close, he was already there and would leave sometime in the afternoon. A few times he came in later in the day, staying close to closing as the coffee shop emptied out.

He had kept asking you about Janeen, and if he could get his art up on the walls one day. You had seen her one day when he wasn’t there, briefly asking her about the process of how she decided about who’s art went where.

You knew that her little painting rotation ran in a few other shops around town. She said that she wasn’t looking for anything new for a bit, but she was keeping all the submissions she got on file.

“Did she say when she would start looking again?”

“No,” you shook your head, after repeating what Janeen had told you to Harry the next time you saw him. “Sorry. But I’m sure it shouldn’t be too long.”

Harry nodded, glancing down at the glass of water between his hands that he had gone up to grab, before you went up to him with the news from your talk with Janeen.

“Why isn’t it run through you guys?”

“What?”

“I mean,” Harry paused. “I’m just curious about how it works. Why is it Janeen who does all the art if she has nothing to do with this café?”

“Honestly I don’t know,” you told him truthfully. “The owner set it up with her, long before I started.”

“Oh okay,” he nodded. “It’s a neat thing, to have local art for sale like this.”

“It is,” you glanced at the art. “But honestly we don’t sell them very often. I think only two or three times in my time here I’ve seen one sold.”

That surprised Harry. “Really? I mean, I guess people don’t come for coffee to buy a painting. Still, it adds a nice atmosphere to the café.” He paused, watching your lips quirk up to a smile. “Would be nice to have my own art up, but…”

Your eyes narrowed on him slightly. “Can I see this art? That you so urgently need to put up in here?”

He tried to stop the beaming smile that was building, biting his lips together for a second. For once feeling like it wasn’t him incessantly asking you something or bugging you, this time you asking him something about himself.

“No,” he heard himself saying, watching your eyebrows jolt up in surprise.

“No?”

His smile was sly, idea forming. He quickly walked back to his table and ripped out a small piece of paper from his sketchbook. He turned back around, seeing you hadn’t moved from your spot by the register.

“Here,” he said once he returned to his side of the counter where he had left you. “I have a few pieces up in a show next week. It’s just for one night, at a little gallery downtown.”

Writing down the date of the show and the name of gallery, he handed the scrap paper over to you. “You should come.”

#harry styles writing #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #I HOPE everyone enjoys enjoys !!!!#please let me know what u think and share if u can !! <333 #cb

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drabbles-mc · 3 years

Text

Conversations In The Dark

Nestor Oceteva x F!Reader

Request from @n3ss12: Can I get for a short fic (if you’re not busy) based on Conversations In The Dark by John Legend with soft Nestor?💕

Warnings: language, light angst, so much softness and pining

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: Full disclosure, this is also a follow-up to I Like Me Better. You can read this fic without having read that one first, but the first definitely puts more context to it. Just another installment in the Soft Nestor Universe, the SNU, if you will. But I had never heard this song and I melted into a puddle of feelings the first time I listened to it, so thank you for the song rec! Hope you enjoy xo

General Mayans Taglist: @mayans-sauce @thesandbeneathmytoes @paintballkid711 @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @queenbeered @sillygoose6969 @sesamepancakes @yourwonkywriter @chibsytelford @gemini0410 @multiyfandomgirl40 @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @plentyoffandoms @georgiaaintnopeach @twistnet @garbinge @themoonandthewicked @bucky-iss-bae @encounterthepast @everyhowlmarksthedead @rosieposie0624 @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo @mijop @xladymacbethx @blessedboo @lakamaa12 @holl2712 (If you want to be added to any of my tags just let me know!)

It had been almost a week since Nestor showed up on your doorstep. You cashed in on some of your vacation time when he first arrived, not wanting to leave him alone when he had finally made the trip out to come and see you. He wouldn’t have given you a hard time about it regardless—if anyone understood what it was like to be dedicated to your work it was him. But still, it was nice that you were able to have so much time with just the two of you.

For someone who never really left the West Coast, January in New York was a bit much for him to take in all at once. He’d been excited about it all, despite the cold. One of his first days there, you dragged him out to buy him a proper winter coat. He had groaned and rolled his eyes but you weren’t going to budge on it.

“I’m not gonna listen to you complain about being cold the whole time you’re here if we can prevent it,” you chuckled, “Plus you can leave it here so you’ll have it here every time you come to visit.”

“Every time?” he smiled over at you.

You nodded, “Well, yea. Now that you’ve made it out here once you’re on the hook for more trips. I don’t make the rules.”

The two of you were walking down the street to one of your favorite little hole-in-the-wall restaurants. It wasn’t overly fancy, but it was small and quiet, and you loved stopping in there for dinner after work. You were excited to bring Nestor, happy to show him that for all the hustle and bustle, there was still some peace and quiet to be found in the city.

“Y/N,” the hostess greeted you with a smile, “Always so nice to see you,” she looked over to Nestor and smiled, her voice cheery, “You brought company! Table for two?”

You nodded, holding in your laughter, “Yes, please.”

She swiped up two menus and motioned for you to follow her, “Right this way.”

The two of you sat down and you could tell that there was part of Nestor that was still tense, still trying to clock any potential threats. You reached over the table and rested your hands on top of his with a smile. You saw some of the tension disappear from his shoulders as he realized what he was doing.

“You’re off the clock, Nes,” you smiled, “Relax a little, yea?”

“Sorry, force of habit,” he shook his head.

You quickly switched the topic before he could get too into his own thoughts, “So how nice was it to have a break from me while I went to work today?”

He laughed, “You know I’d always rather spend the day with you than by myself.”

You felt your face get warm, “Yea? Six days and nights straight with me hasn’t made you sick of me yet?”

“Not yet,” he shook his head.

It was your first meal out together since he had come to town. He was so programmed to stay in as much as possible for security purposes. And you were enjoying having someone around who enjoyed cooking as much as he did. You cooked because you had to, but he actually loved doing it, so you let him. But this gave both of you the night off.

There was something intimate about being tucked away in the small restaurant together even though there were other people around. The evening ticked by as the two of you talked through dinner and drinks. You got to tell him all about work, which was a definite change of pace from him always being the one with work stories. Your job wasn’t quite as thrilling as his, but you usually clocked out with a story or two to share each day.

Nestor sipped on his beer as he listened intently to everything that you were telling him. He never wanted to take the opportunity to listen to you and see you face-to-face for granted again. From the look in his eye, you could tell that he was taking in every word that you were saying to him.

“I know you probably hear enough lawyer talk back home,” you said with a chuckle as you took a drink from your glass of wine, “Sorry if it’s a little redundant.”

He shook his head with a smile, “Not at all. Your lawyer stories are much more interesting than the ones back home. No one back home is a criminal lawyer.”

“Yea, crims always make for good stories,” you laughed.

Before either of you could jump into another story, your waiter walked up and set the check down in the middle of the table. She flashed a smile at the both of you, “No rush at all, but whenever you’re ready.”

You nodded with a smile, “Thank you.”

As she walked away, both you and Nestor reached for the check. You were anticipating it, though, so you were just a few moments quicker and snatched it up just in time. He huffed and shook his head at you and you threw your head back in laughter.

“Dinner on me, Nes.”

“C’mon, you’re letting me crash with you, the least I could do is pay for dinner.”

“I’m the only one of us who is currently working, so this is actually the smarter financial decision.”

He laughed, “I’m not unemployed, Y/N, I’m on vacation.”

“All the more reason for me to treat you to dinner,” you stuck your credit card into the check and handed it back to the waiter, who had been watching the two of you interact with a smile on her face.

The two of you made your way back out of the restaurant and onto the sidewalk, each bundled up in your own puffy winter coat. You wrapped your scarf around your neck and buried your chin into it to protect it from the cold. Nestor was looking over at you with a gentle smile on his face. He stuffed one hand into his pocket while the other came to rest on the small of your back. You smiled over at him as you leaned gently against his side.

It wasn’t a terribly long walk home, but part of you wished that you could drag it out a little longer. Nestor’s arm was wrapped completely around your waist and he had you pulled tight against him. He let you go just long enough for you to unlock and open the front door to your house. As soon as the two of you were inside, he was helping you with your coat and scarf and for a brief moment you forgot that this wasn’t what your life was like—this was just a temporary fix for the both of you. Nestor still hadn’t really opened up about what made him decide to take time off so suddenly in the first place.

“It’s starting to get kinda late,” you watched as Nestor hung his own coat up, “wanna just watch movies upstairs?”

He nodded, “Sounds good.”

You let out a sigh of relief, “Good. Otherwise you’d have to carry me upstairs from the couch.”

He laughed, “I think I could manage that if I had to.”

The two of you were laid up in bed together, the way that you had been every night for the last week. Neither of you made any comment about it, not wanting to burst the bubble that you were in. Nestor rested his hand on your back while you laid on his chest, both of you only half paying attention to the movie that was on the screen.

You were so close to falling asleep when you heard the sound of Nestor’s phone vibrating on the nightstand beside the bed. He mumbled a quiet apology as he picked the phone up to see who was calling. With a heavy sigh he hit the reject button and put his phone on silent.

He didn’t make any comment about it, and you were about to let it slide, but you couldn’t pretend that his real life wasn’t going to start encroaching on your situation sooner or later. The fact that he’d gone a week without interruption was a huge feat in your mind.

“Galindo?” you mumbled against his chest.

“Not important,” he gently rubbed your back.

You looked up at him, “I mean, it might be a little important,” you offered up a tired smile.

He smiled, “I’m on vacation, remember?”

“Yea,” your voice was quiet as you idly traced patterns along his chest.

“What’re you thinking?”

You shrugged, “I just…what made you take the time off? I’ve known you forever and you’ve never just blipped off the radar like that.”

For a minute the only noise in the room came from the television. You thought that Nestor was really about to just avoid answering your question, and you weren’t really sure what you’d do if he did that. The two of you were always open about everything. What could be so secretive that he couldn’t let you in?

Finally, he spoke up, “I…caught some heat from Galindo over some things. Made some decisions that he didn’t agree with and it cost me my position.”

“He fired you?” you sat upright, eyes wide.

He shook his head, “No, not really. More like…demoted?”

“Jesus,” you rested your hand on the back of your neck, “Can I ask what you did?”

You could see it written all over his face that he was dreading you asking that question. You were hard pressed to believe, though, that it would be something so terrible that it would change anything between the two of you. You knew who Galindo was, and for as enamored as you were with Nestor, you were still realistic about who he was and what he had to do for work as well. Nothing could really be that shocking, right?

“I can’t lose you,” he couldn’t meet your eyes.

“Hey,” you whispered as you gently cupped his face in your hands, prompting him to look at you, “you’re not going to lose me. Fuck, Nes, I feel like I just got you back. I’m not going anywhere,” you traced your thumb along his cheekbone, “You can tell me anything, I promise.”

He was silent for a few moments as he rested his hands over yours. He closed his eyes for a second before pulling you back towards him so you were laying with your head on his chest as he leaned back against the headboard of your bed. His heart was beating fast and hard enough for you to feel it against your cheek, and it was one of the only times you’d ever seen Nestor nervous about anything.

You listened intently as he started to outline everything that had been going on back home—the cartel, the rebels, and everything that came with it. The volume of his voice was hardly more than a whisper and yet it still drowned out the television as you leaned into every word that he said. His eyes weren’t meeting yours as he talked about the Galindo’s child, and the festival, and the church. He was focused on looking at your hand, that was absentmindedly tracing back and forth over his knuckles.

Whatever it was that you had been expecting him to tell you, the story you were listening to wasn’t it. You couldn’t deny that it was a bit of a pill to swallow, but again, you knew the world that Nestor lived in. How surprised could you really pretend to be that things got messy? You knew about the kind of things Miguel and his father did—the cartel was at the root of a lot of carnage. It was difficult, though, to picture the man who was laying in bed with you doing the things that he was describing to you. You were aware that he was capable of brute force, but he’s also the same man that for a week had been eating dessert in bed with you while you forced him to sit through Grey’s Anatomy on Netflix.

The clock on your nightstand ticked over to show you that it was 1AM. You looked up at Nestor as he fell silent after filling you in on everything that had happened before he showed up on your doorstep. You couldn’t believe that he had been bottling all of that up for so long.

“I’m so sorry,” he said after a few moments of silence, “I didn’t mean to bring all of this to you. I know you got out of Cali for a reason and I’m just dragging all this shit back into your life but I—”

You cut him off as you turned to face him, “Don’t apologize. I know you, Nestor. I know who you are, and who you are is never something that you need to apologize for. Never to me, okay?”

He nodded and you could see relief and a dozen other emotions swirling around his eyes, “I want to be the person you think I am, Y/N. I’m trying. But I just…don’t know if I can.”

You situated yourself so that you were sitting in his lap, facing him. You rested one hand on his chest, “You don’t have to try to be anything, okay? I don’t want you to change. You’re perfect as you are,” you rested your hands on his shoulders, “And you know me, if something about you bothered me, I would definitely fucking tell you.”

He let out a quiet laugh as his hands rested on your hips, “That’s true,” his expression sobered as he leaned forward and pressed his forehead against yours, “I don’t think I’ve ever really thanked you for how much of my weight you’ve shouldered over the years—all the secrets you’ve kept, all the advice you’ve given me. I…I think I took that for granted until you left.”

You became very aware of the warmth seeping from his hands into your sides as he pulled you closer to him. The weight of everything the two of you never said or did in all the years you’d known each other was suddenly starting to become unbearably heavy.

You lightly brushed your nose against his, “It’s the least I could do,” your heart felt like it was about to pound out of your chest, “You’re the only person I’ve ever loved that’s never broken my heart.”

His body tensed and he pulled back so he could look into your eyes. It was out there now, and there was no taking it back. So many years and countless conversations spent skirting around it, and now there was no turning away from it. His eyes searched yours, as though he was trying to figure out if you were going to take back what you had just said. You held his gaze, letting him know that the last thing you were going to do now was try and backpedal.

Almost faster than you could keep up with, his one arm wrapped tight around your waist and his other hand landed on the back of your neck as he pulled you into a needy, years-in-the-making, kiss. Instinctively your hands landed on his chest, balling his t-shirt in your fists as you attempted to pull him as close as possible to you. His fingertips pressed harder into your back as his lips moved against yours, causing you to let slip a quiet moan.

You bit lightly at his bottom lip and you felt him lean farther into you. Your hands slid up from his chest and came to rest clasped together behind his neck. He couldn’t take his lips off of yours as his fingers traced along your cheek and jaw, trying to satiate years’ worth of hunger and longing.

You finally pulled back, needing to catch your breath. Nestor kept your body pressed tightly against his, foreheads touching. Both of your chests rose and fell quickly as you tried to process and recover from everything that had just happened. His hands returned to their gentle position just above your hips while yours rested on either side of his neck.

“I love you, Y/N,” his voice was gentler than you’d ever heard it, “I know I should’ve told you a long fucking time ago, but I love you. I love you so much.”

Heat washed over your entire body as you soaked up every word that he was saying, “I love you too. And, for what it’s worth, you’ve been telling me for years—it just sounded a little different.”

He chuckled before pressing a kiss to your forehead, “You’re perfect.”

You trailed your fingers lightly through his facial hair, “I’m so glad that you’re here.”

He smiled, taking your hand in his and kissing the back of it, “I’m glad I am too,” he paused, “I don’t think that I can go back to the way my life was before all of this,” he shook his head slightly.

“Who says that you have to?”

He looked at you, “I can’t stay out here forever. And…and I could never ask you to give up your life here to come back to California.”

“I’ve loved you for years, Nestor. I loved you when I lived across the street from you, and I loved you when I lived across the country from you. That’s not going to change, whether we are in the same state or on opposite sides of the globe. Wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, I’ll be loving you.”

He wrapped his arms tightly around you, resting his head in the crook of your neck, “But I wanna love you like this, all the time.”

You smiled, softly resting your hand on the back of his head, “I know. We never get to have simple lives, huh?”

You felt the vibration of his laughter against the sensitive skin of your neck, “No, we don’t.”

“But we always figure it out, right?”

“Right,” he gave you a light squeeze.

“C’mon,” you flopped off to the side of him and pulled him down with you, “come lay with me.”

He laughed as you tangled your legs up with his and nestled your face against his chest. He wrapped his arms around your middle and kissed the top of your head before letting out a soft sigh of contentment.

“You should stay home tomorrow,” he whispered into your hair.”

You chuckled and tilted your head to look up at him, “Oh, definitely.”

He leaned down and caught your lips in a soft kiss as his hand ran up and down your back, “I love you.”

You hummed in contentment, “I love you too.”

You rested your head back against his chest, and you felt his chin softly land on the top of your head as he pressed your body flush against his. You felt yourself melting into his body heat as the television continued to play softly in the background. There were still questions to be answered, and you’d confront them when the time came. But, for the first time in a long time, it felt like a weight had been taken off of your chest. And as you listened to Nestor’s steady breathing and heartbeat, you knew you weren’t the only one who felt a little lighter.

#mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans fx #mayans mc imagine #nestor oceteva #nestor oceteva x reader #nestor oceteva x you #nestor oceteva imagine #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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winterscaptain · 4 years

Text

push.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

a/n: alright, team! this one covers cradle to grave and the eyes have it. i am so excited to share this with you, and we are that much closer to 100. ahh!! (i also mistakenly noted that infirmity was part three and it is in fact part four. while i can write, i made no promises in regard to counting.)

words: 4.2k warnings: canon-typical violence and discussion of violence, language

summary: “if you aren't in over your head, how do you know how tall you are?” - t.s. eliot. a shift, a transition, and a lie.

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | requests closed!

Aaron meanders around the store, looking into the glass cases. There’s very little purpose, very little direction. He figures, just like the first time, the right one will make itself known.

What are you doing?

He takes a breath, ignoring that pesky little voice in his head, focused on the task at hand.

I’m listening to Haley. What are you doing?

Playing devil’s advocate because you shouldn’t be doing this right now. What are you thinking?

I don’t know. Fuck off.

The man behind the glass greets him, asking if he’s looking for anything in particular.

“Yes,” Aaron says, only a little startled out of his thoughts, “though I’m not quite sure what it is, yet.” His gaze wanders. “Can I see that one, please?”

He takes a close look, but it’s not quite right.

He’ll find it.

+++

You’re still at your desk when Hotch leaves JJ’s office, late. You throw him a little bit of a smile as he frowns at you.

Why are you still here?

You shrug. Work?

He snorts. Sure. and hops up the stairs to his office. There’s a moment where he stops short at the door. With a little bit of a startle, you realize Strauss is in there.

How did I miss that?

JJ arrives in the bullpen with an armful of files, and you tip your head toward Hotch’s office. She works her distribution, setting folders down, her eyes glued to the window.

When Strauss leaves, you both busy yourselves, looking up as she passes.

She greets the both of you with your formal titles, and a chill runs down your spine.

“Ma’am.”

You and JJ echo each other, throwing an approximation of a smile in her direction.

What the fuck?

You exchange a look with JJ once Strauss is out of sight, nod, and stand.

Reaching his door, you note that he hasn’t moved.

“Hotch?”

He’s still as he answers. “Yes?”

Something feels wrong. Really really wrong. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”

You stand there for a moment as he turns over his shoulder and returns to his desk. He knows better than to meet your eyes - then you’ll know for sure he’s lying.

Choose your battles.

Protect him.

How?

Just try.

“Goodnight, Hotch.”

+++

“You’re kidding.”

You look up from your file at Spencer, who has a manic little grin on his face. “What?”

“You’re not going to believe this.”

“Try me.”

He laughs. “Someone started this blog called What Would Carl Sagan Do? and it’s so woefully inaccurate I’m wondering if this is some kind of 100-level school project, it’s -”

Derek walks in and you beam at him. He doesn’t return it. “What’s the case?”

“What case?” You ask, the smile falling from your face.

“I just got three emails from Hotch about cases.”

A little confused noise leaves you as you refresh your email once...twice. “I don’t have anything.”

Spencer follows suit. “I didn’t get any emails from Hotch, or did I?” He checks. “Nothing.”

With a sigh and a huff, Derek puts his things down and walks purposefully toward Hotch’s office. Spencer looks back at you.

“Wonder what that’s about.”

You hum, looking back at your file to hide your face. “I dunno.”

What happened last night?

+++

“What’s with Hotch?” Derek catches up to you in the hallway on the way to your hotel room at the end of the first day. Naturally, he’s not at all out of breath.

You frown at him. “What do you mean?”

You know exactly what he means.

“You’re a shit liar.”

You chuff at him and unlock your door, opening it and shepherding him in. “Alright. Fine. He’s stressed.”

“He’s...stressed? Really? That’s all you’ve got for me?”

Throwing your hands up, “It’s not like he tells me everything, Derek.”

You do know, however, that Jack spent his fourth birthday in protective custody, with only a surveillance feed to satiate Aaron’s need to see his son.

It sucks.

“Yeah, but -” He pulls the chair from the little desk and sits backwards on it while you take your shoes off. “ - you know him.”

“You’ve known him far longer than I have.”

“It’s different. I’ve been working with him longer, but you know him better.”

You can’t deny that. “Well…” You search and search for a viable explanation. “...maybe he’s just more open to help than he usually is? He knows how good you are at your job, so…” Your mouth twists. “...I think it’s a compliment that he’s relying on you more and asking for your opinion on things.”

He squints, thinking. He “hmphs” once before standing up, replacing the chair, and heading toward the door.

“I’ll tell you if I hear anything.”

No I won’t.

The side of his mouth lifts. “No, you won’t.” Then, “Goodnight, kid. Get some sleep.”

+++

Aaron hands him an aggressively annotated copy of the preliminary profile. “Morgan, in order for the profile to be useful it has to generate multiple scenarios about what the unsub is doing. Rewrite it.”

You have to admit you’ve been looking between each of them like a particularly interesting game of tennis as they volley back and forth.

It’s tense...and confusing.

Derek looks completely crestfallen. You wipe the confusion off of your face as best you can and exchange it for something you hope is empathetic.

Hotch pulls JJ aside to discuss her new findings while Derek joins you at the table.

“What is with him?”

You shake your head. “I wish I knew.” Your gaze wanders over to him, where he’s watching the pair of you. You look away, focused on the profile Hotch returned to Morgan.

Your next words are almost a sigh. “I know he pushes hard, but…I just...don't know.”

+++

You take a deep breath as Derek snatches a piece of paper from the printer and stalks to Hotch’s office.

Maybe this time, they will kill each other.

Who would win?

Hm. Catch-22. They both lose.

Even then, you’ll always put your money on Aaron.

You keep your eyes on them and you know JJ’s doing the same. Part of you is always ready to bridge a rift between Aaron and Derek. For some reason or another, they both listen to you when you tell them they’re acting like shitheads.

So, they listen. Often.

Hotch’s jaw tenses and, though you can’t hear him, you can tell he’s raising his voice, his tone growing harder.

That’s it.

You shove off from the desk and open the door without knocking, interrupting Derek mid-thought. They both look at you and don’t even have the good graces to look caught out.

“Garcia needs to talk to us.”

Hotch takes a talking breath, but you cut him off.

“Now.” You tip your head. “Please,” you add for good measure.

They brush past the both of you, Derek’s fingers brushing your sleeve as he passes.

You catch the hem of Aaron’s suit jacket and tug.

He turns on you - there’s still a lot of fire in his gaze and for a moment, you let yourself be intimidated, looking away from him and bringing your hand back.

There’s a sigh, and you know he feels bad (just a little). “Yes?”

“You’ll tell me if you want help, right?”

He meets your gaze. There is so much going on behind those deep brown irises you don’t even know where to start. “Yes.”

Liar.

I miss you.

Not satisfied, but pacified for now, you turn and lead the way back to the table. You meet Derek’s eyes and shake your head just a little.

Damn it.

+++

When you’re done with Penelope, you find an excuse to get Derek alone. Your conversation, somehow, is already heated.

“He’s just trying to challenge you, Morgan.” Your body language isn’t great, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Arms crossed, tight mouth - you’re the picture of frustration.

He’s restless - shifting his weight back and forth. “I don’t understand it. He’s on my ass about shit he’s never been on my ass about before.”

“Did you even hear what I said?”

“Yes, I did.” He stops moving, gesturing sharply with an open, flat hand. “Why is he challenging me, when he’s the one under the gun?”

You close your eyes and press your fingers to the bridge of your nose. “Did you ever think, just once, maybe, he wants to make sure this team still functions if something happens to him?”

Derek, finally, has the good sense to deflate. You follow suit, leaning on the desk behind you.

“We almost lost him a couple of months ago,” you remind him. “If we don’t know everything his position entails, we will not be able to help him if there’s a next time.”

You step forward, a fond little laugh in your voice. “Derek - you’re a natural leader, a great tactician. There’s no better person for him to build up, just in case.”

He breaks your gaze, thinking.

For good measure, you add, “He respects you a great deal. Remember when you said you tolerate him, just for me?” You hold his gaze as it returns to you. “I think that’s bullshit.”

Another breath. He steps forward, meeting you in the middle of the isolated, small conference room. You offer him a small, closed-mouth smile.

“Come here, kid.”

You tuck into his arms with a little laugh. “How did you two manage before I got here?”

You can feel his laugh rumble through him. “You have no idea.”

+++

Of course, under Derek’s careful tactical direction, everything goes according to plan. Textbook soft entry, no hostages, peaceful takeover, and four rescued victims by the end of it.

“I love these ones,” you say, standing between Aaron and Derek in the precinct as a family forms before your eyes.

“Which ones?” Aaron asks.

“The ones where we all get to go home, and so do they.”

+++

“Well, I guess it’s time,” Derek says, pushing back from his desk and rising. You’ve both stayed late for one reason or another, with the excuse of paperwork.

Really, Derek was building his nerve, and really, you were waiting for Aaron.

You furrow your brow. “Time for what?”

“Hotch wants to see me.”

“What does he want?”

He laughs a little. “I thought you’d know.”

You shake your head, so he shrugs and walks up the stairs, knocking twice on Aaron’s door before stepping inside.

They immediately take a seat, but not at Aaron’s desk.

Red flag.

You know it’s ridiculous to worry, but nevertheless, you pace around the bullpen as the boys talk upstairs. It looks serious, given the image before you. They both sit forward in their chairs, lit by the warm light from Hotch’s lamp, their elbows on their knees, their hands loosely laced.

Other than on the plane, you’re not sure you’ve ever seen them sit so close together.

Aaron didn’t close the door, but still you know to keep your distance. The coffee pot is scrubbed again, the mugs reorganized, and you return to your desk after you run out of tasks, still fidgety.

“What?” You hear. “No!”

Your head whips up to the office at Derek’s outburst. They simmer down again after a moment, but continue talking with low brows and lower voices.

They rise after a few more minutes, and Derek swings out of the door and whistles for you. “Hop to, kid, let’s go.”

Your brow crinkles, but you jog up the stairs and land in the doorway. “What’s going on?”

Derek and Hotch exchange a look.

“Have a seat,” Aaron says, finally. You follow instructions, sitting gingerly on the couch.

What the hell is going on?

Aaron sits across from you, looking a little lighter than he did this afternoon. You’re hoping it’s good news.

“I’m resigning as unit chief at the end of this week.” You open your mouth and move to protest with your entire body, but Aaron’s hand stops you. “Wait. Hold on. Feel free to get mad at me when I’m done, but I’m not done yet.”

Is he...smiling?

No, but it’s close.

You freeze, waiting.

He speaks to you like a scared animal, likely remembering the last time he tried to resign and you chased him across the office. “Morgan will be taking over as acting unit chief until we catch Foyet. I will return to my post at the conclusion of the investigation.”

You still don’t move as you ask, “You’re staying on the team, though, right?”

He nods.

So it’s not as bad as you thought. “Why?”

Aaron glances at Morgan, who sits heavily beside you. You settle down and mirror their postures from earlier, feeling a little like a co-conspirator. “I’ve shared this with Morgan and I’ll share it with you, but -”

“- don’t tell anyone. Got it.”

His lips twitch. “Right. The bureau thinks that my ability to lead this team has been compromised.”

You blink at him, waiting for him to continue.

“What do you think?” He asks.

This is a trick. He’s tricking me.

“What do you mean ‘what do I think?’”

His gaze is definitely a little amused as he watches you. “I mean, what do you think?”

“Hm. That’s helpful.”

Oh, to be a fly on the wall in Derek’s head.

He’s never seen two people more well-suited for each other. The fact that you’re giving Hotch shit right now to avoid answering the question speaks only to the closeness between you. You push him harder, give him more hell, and have the power to make him more miserable than anyone else.

And yet, he loves you. It’s so clear. Why can’t you see it? Why can’t he see it?

You’re both profilers, for fuck’s sake.

Derek’s eyes flicker back and forth, watching the raise of your eyebrows and the upturned corners of Aaron’s mouth. There’s a fondness between you - it rests in your eyes - as you wait each other out.

God, they’re stupid. It’s written all over their faces.

Aaron repeats himself, but slower. “Do you think my ability to lead this team has been compromised?”

You sigh, finally breaking his gaze to focus on one of the degrees on Aaron’s wall. “Alright, fine. I have been...concerned about some of your choices in the field the last few weeks.” You meet his eyes again. “Though, I believe I’ve told you as much in the moment, so that shouldn’t come as much of a shock.”

He snorts and you swat lightly in his direction, purposefully missing him entirely.

“But I don’t think there’s anyone better to lead this team.” You look over at Morgan. “Not to say you can’t or shouldn’t do it, but -”

Derek interrupts you. “- No, I agree.”

You nod, turning back to Aaron. “Out of curiosity, what’s the alternative?”

His eyebrows rise for a moment. “The alternative is, I remain in my post until I am inevitably removed. In that instance, the team will be split and budgets will be cut.”

“Oh.”

“But,” he continues, “if I promote internally, we can avoid that.”

It’s unsettling, to be sure, but not the end of the world. You think about it - what the team would look like with Hotch as just “one of you,” and Derek at the helm.

Your eyes flicker to Aaron, taking in his suit, the strong set of his shoulders, the authoritative brow, the serious mouth. It wouldn’t be quite right, but it is better than the alternative.

God, he’s handsome.

We knew that.

I know, but look at him.

You’ve looked too long without talking. Derek noticed. He starts to think, already excited for Hotch to resume his post so he can start a betting pool on how long it’ll take for you two to finally give in to whatever...this is.

Weirdly, though, he wouldn’t call it tension. It’s more like a blanket - covering the both of you in a kind of warmth that radiates to everyone in the vicinity.

Derek has no idea how you got into Aaron’s good graces so quickly, why he trusted you so early on, but it’s made him a better leader, a better agent.

He might even go so far as to say you’ve made him a better man.

“I think,” you say, slowly, “given the circumstances, that Morgan leading the team until we catch Foyet would be a sound decision.” Your lips twitch into a smile. “And now I get to share the burden of being the one who gets pissed at you when you pull risky shit in the field.”

Aaron almost smiles, but it’s enough. “Alright, then.” He stands and so does Morgan, so you follow suit. He crosses around to his desk, where two massive boxes of files are waiting.

“If you intend on getting any sleep tonight,” he tells you, “I would recommend you leave now.”

You suppress a smile. “And miss all this?” You gesture to both the file boxes and the boys. “No way.”

+++

The next morning is...hectic, to say the least.

Strauss stole Morgan the second he arrived, so naturally Penelope came up to the bullpen to keep tabs. “So, did anyone say why Hotch is stepping down?”

You keep your eyes on your work, pretending to be only half-tuned into the conversation. There are eyes on you for a minute before you look up and cursorily shake your head.

“All Morgan said this morning is that it’s happening,” JJ says. “Business as usual, I guess.”

Emily’s not so easily appeased, sitting on the corner of your desk. “So we’re just supposed to move forward without any discussion?”

Oh, there was a discussion. You just weren’t part of it.

You look up for real and put your pen down. “I think we’d have to prepare for anything after Foyet, don’t you?”

The rest of you quiet down as Hotch descends the stairs. You’re the only one who keeps your eyes on him.

No need to pretend you’re busy when he already knows you’re paying attention.

“...I’ll have all my things cleared out and it will be all yours.”

No.

Your brow crinkles and you look up at the office. It feels...wrong, somehow, to imagine that room without its shelves of legal citation books, legal dictionaries…

Legal this, legal that.

Could he be any more of a lawyer?

No.

“Hotch, I don’t want your office.” Their voices are low, but they carry - especially to shamelessly eavesdropping ears.

Strauss starts talking, but honestly, it just sounds like static.

“All due respect, Ms. Strauss,” Derek says, “but both of you have trusted me to step in as acting unit chief. I’m asking you to respect my decision.”

You drop your head down to your paperwork, a proud smile pushing at the corner of your lips.

“I’ve decided I don’t want Hotch’s office. That’s where he belongs. If necessary, we can discuss this again at a later date, but right now, we really need to get started on this case.”

He looks up, and you all pretend to be doing something else. It’s a ridiculous showing, really.

“Guys. Grab Rossi.”

Emily huffs, jumping off your desk. “I got ‘im.”

+++

It’s weird at first as you all settle in and get used to looking at Derek more often. He’s doing well - asking good questions on the plane and stepping in when you arrive at the precinct.

Aaron still looks like the authority in the room, but that’s just how he is. There’s more than one occasion where you’re forced to hide your smile as he intentionally and mindfully defers to Derek in front of the local officers.

It’s not actually funny in any comedic sense, but the strangeness of it all gets to you a little bit.

You’re driving (another perk of Derek being in charge - he lets you drive) while Hotch takes shotgun. You’ve just hung up the phone, where Hotch said again “It’s your call, Morgan.”

It made you smile, and now you’re under fire.

“What’s funny?”

You check (again) that you’re the only two in the car. You are. “It’s just weird. I’m getting used to it.”

“What? That we’re the same rank?”

Honey, we’ll never be the same rank.

“Sure,” you reply, dubious. “Like you and I are in the same league at all.”

He shakes his head, playing off the twinge of hurt that doesn’t come from his freshly healing wounds.

In his mind, you’re right in more ways than one.

That train of thought led him down a rabbit hole he’s now punishing himself for. Why he should even have half a thought dedicated to any of that is completely beyond him...

“What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing.”

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye. “You know I can tell you’re lying to me without even looking at you, right?”

A sigh. “Oh, yeah?”

DIdn’t think he’d answer that one.

“You have a tell when you’re lying to me, specifically. It’s different from your other tells.”

“Is that so?” He sounds skeptical.

“Mhmm.”

You can almost feel him squint. “Are you going to elaborate on that?”

“Nope. If I do, you’ll stop doing it and I have to start from scratch.” You shoot him another glance and the corner of your mouth tips up. “And I don’t take orders from you, anymore, so you can’t make me.”

His fond eye roll finally breaks you, and you laugh at the absurdity of it all. He doesn’t break himself, but it’s the thought that counts.

Your laughter is the best reward to him, anyway.

+++

Goddamn it, Aaron.

If you had a dime for every time you’ve had that thought in the last eight weeks, you’d have...a shitload of dimes.

You’re chasing after him, because of course he ran after the unsub without backup. It’s like he’s on a mission to give you hypertension.

“FBI! Get off her!” You hear his voice, rough and authoritative (you, of course, ignore what that does to your anatomy) and round the corner.

You find him grappling with the unsub, cuffing him.

With a sigh, you take over - holstering your weapon and hauling the unsub to his feet.

Derek walks over with Emily after you’ve passed the unsub to the local officers for processing. “What happened?”

“Hotch took him down by himself.”

“You’re kidding.”

You press your mouth into a thin, facetious line. “Do I look like I’m kidding?”

Derek shakes his head with a huff that’s almost a laugh and returns to Hotch, who clarifies the aforementioned events. He looks over at you. “Did you tell him you were right behind me?”

You just stare at him.

Derek takes over, saving you the trouble of getting too annoyed with Aaron. “You should have waited for backup.”

Unit Chief Derek, in with the feedback. Very nice.

You look unfairly smug, but the look drops off your face when Hotch answers, almost smiling, “Would you have?”

You're confronted with an image - Aaron, ten years ago, only a little older than you, a young, hotshot agent with a sarcastic streak a mile wide.

Poor Gideon...

Derek just turns with another sigh, off to do whatever acting unit chiefs do.

Emily manages to hold her laugh until he’s out of earshot. Hotch, passing her, just smirks. “What?”

She shakes her head. “Nothing.”

+++

Alright, that’s enough.

You rise from your desk and pat Derek’s shoulder on your way past him. “Proud of you.” It’s casual, almost a throwaway line. If it was any kind of serious, you know he’d hate it.

A little staccato hum leaves his throat. He’s still working, and you leave him to it.

You knock twice on Hotch’s office door before letting yourself in. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he replies but doesn’t look up.

You sit at one of the chairs and prop your chin on the heel of your hand. “How late are you staying?”

“You should go home. it’s late.” His response is absent, at best. You’re not even sure he actually heard you.

“Hey.”

He finally looks up, his brown eyes tired and bloodshot. “What?” His tone isn’t unkind, but it isn’t patient, either.

“You should go home. It’s late.”

He heaves a sigh and lets it out through his mouth, choosing not to acknowledge your use of his words against him. “Can’t.”

You hum, looking over his nameplate to the files on his desk. “He’ll still be there tomorrow, you know.”

“That’s the problem.”

“Fine,” you relent. “Then let me help.”

He doesn’t protest when you reach across the desk for the first case file, so you figure you have tacit permission.

Maybe, just maybe, if you learn this case backwards and forwards, too, something will change.

Your love for the man across from you makes that lie easier to swallow.

+++

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#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #hotch #tali writes fanfiction #tali talks cm #aaron hotchner fanfiction #a joyful future #shut up tali #a joyful future fanfic

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gaming-universe · 3 years

Text

Who We Are || Russell Adler

Call of Duty Black Ops: Cold War

-PART THREE-

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR CALL OF DUTY BLACK OPS: COLD WAR! IF YOU HAVEN’T PLAYED/FINISHED THE CAMPAIGN THEN PLEASE DONT READ! Gore, violence, course language, mature content.

Summary: Betrayed and alone after surviving the events that took place on the Solovetsky Islands, Y/n ‘Bell’ L/n faces new and more dangerous threats when she learns that Perseus has other plans for his failed nuclear detonation of Europe. It was only a matter of time before Y/n came face to face with her old team. There is unfinished business between Y/n and Adler, as this operation proves to be more deadly than originally thought.

Author’s Note: So, after finishing the campaign, I needed to do Bell/Player and Adler justice. I loved this game so much, and chosing to play as the female character, I felt like there was a genuine connection between Bell and Adler throughout the game. There is a tag list open for anyone that wishes to stay up to date with the series. Simply comment below. Gif by @travelllar

|PART ONE| |PART TWO|

A low whistle came from Woods as Adler stumbled backward, groaning in pain as he clutched his jaw with a deep chuckle.

Mason winced at the sound, his eyes flickering between both you and Adler with a worried gleam. Adler huffed, standing tall and giving you a deadly glare. “It’s nice to see you too-”

You surged forward, ready to attack the fucking prick and release all of the rage you had built up over the last four months, but Mason was quicker. Faster than you thought humanly possible, he appeared by your side and wrapped his arms around your waist, hauling you away from the scene whilst Woods apprehended Adler. Once you were a safe distance away, Mason released you only to spin you around and place his hands on your shoulders. “Hey, hey calm down...” He soothed, smiling softly as your wild and furious eyes met his own. They shone with unshed tears as he pulled you into a tight embrace, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

You didn’t know how to react, taken aback by his sudden display of affection. Despite the fact that he knew what had been done to you all those months ago, and even though he looked at you with sadness and pity, he still treated you like you were one of their own. The fact that you had once worked for Perseus didn’t matter. Everyone had their reasons, he didn’t agree with brainwashing you, that was something he absolutely hated. He hated lying to people he cared about. You returned Mason’s embrace, sighing into his shoulder as a way to relieve your anger.

“We all thought you were dead...” He whispered, tightening his hold around you “when Woods and I found out that Adler had shot you, we left the team”.

You pulled away from him, stepping back to look him up and down with an expression of confusion. “If you left, then why did you come back?” You asked quietly, tilting your head to the side in wait for his answer. Mason grinned, “Because we wanted to do you justice. You got us to Perseus the first time, and you helped us even though the CIA took away who you were, and you helped us even though we all lied to you. So we both thought we owed it to you to put a stop to Perseus once and for all”.

You felt your heart swell with mixed emotions, feelings you hadn’t felt in a long time. Your gaze fell to the floor as you released a long sigh, before lifting your gaze to stare across the room. Adler was already looking at you when you turned, there was something dark hidden behind his blank expression, something sombre yet guilty. You hoped he felt guilty at least.

Woods began to approach, a happy skip in his step as he left Adler to his own devices. “Holy shit, Bell. I’ll make a mental note that you can survive literally anything that is thrown at you” He teased, wrapping you in a warm embrace of his own. You returned the gesture, chuckling lightly before pulling away with a warm smile. He held you at arms length, looking you up and down with a fond expression. He patted your shoulder “It’s good to have you back” He spoke lowly, to which you nodded slightly in response.

Looking over Wood’s shoulder, your eyes met Adler’s once again. In fact, you didn’t think his eyes ever left your form. Carefully, you moved around Woods, half expecting the man to wrap his arm around you and stop you mid stride. But when he didn’t, you approached the man across the room with heavy and reluctant steps. When you stood before him, you had to force yourself to look up at him, through those aviators he wore and into his eyes. Even in the small time you had known him, Adler had always been a mystery. He was the type of leader that always kept to himself, never shared his thoughts with anyone. Until now.

You could see through his facade, through those sunglasses he used as a front to hide what was going on beneath. Though he tried to appear stern and authorative, deep down, there was something he wasn’t saying. Something that made you want to ask him-

A loud alarm blared through the bunker, red flashing lights gleaming brightly throughout various locations of the room. Adler huffed, shaking his head angrily. “Fuck, we need to go. Now” He ordered, giving you a small nod before moving towards Woods and Mason. You followed a short distance behind, the four of you now ascending the stairs leading out of the bunker. It was no easy task, trying to sneak out of the base while everyone was on high alert. But it wasn’t impossible.

The four of you made it out of the base relatively unscathed, making it to the jeep you had hidden atop one of the ridges without further hassel. With Adler in the passenger seat and Woods and Mason in the back, it made for a very awkward drive back into town. The cut on your arm stung painfully, you winced at the smallest movements. And of course, the man beside you just had to notice. “You’re hurt” Adler spoke lowly, his tone somewhat concerned, but more stating the obvious. You pursed your lips, wanting nothing more than to reach the safety of Viktor’s house faster. “I’m fine...” You replied shortly, turning left and taking the dirt path up to the house “it’s just a flesh wound”.

“It doesn’t look like one-”

“Did I ask for your opinion?” You quipped, harshly bringing the car to a stop. Ignoring Woods and Mason groaning in annoyance in the background, you turned to glare at Adler, your eyes narrowing dangerously. Adler held your glare, his chest rising and falling as his annoyance no doubt grew. With a long roll of your eyes, you removed the keys from the ignition and quickly jumped out of the car, slamming the door closed behind you with a violent ‘thud’. The others followed suit, closing theur doors a little more gently before joining you at the top of the stairs on the small wooden terrace.

Viktor had left the door unlocked, in the hopes of your eventual return. You smiled faintly at his kindness. Walking into the house, you were immediately met with the concerned expression of the old man, his mood quickly changing when he spied the three men standing in the threshold. “Friends of yours?” He questioned, his eyes now examining your form with a somewhat judgemental look on his features. You turned around to face the three men, finding Mason waving awkwardly in Viktor’s direction with a light chuckle.

Nevertheless, he old man beckoned them inside. Mason entered first, followed by Woods, who mumbled a complimentary ‘nice place’ as he walked past you into the living room. And last, of course, was Adler. After closing the door behind him, Adler let his gaze wander around the interior of the house, studying the off-white walls and the wooden furniture, before returning his attention to your form. His eyes remained focused on the large bloodstain on your chest, the whole in the fabric a reminder to him of the damage he had done.

After an extensive silence, Adler cleared his throat “We should talk, about what happened tonight-”

“No, not now...” Viktor suddenly interrupted, moving to stand beside you in a supportive manner. When Adler opened his mouthto protest, Viktor stopped him once again. “You are all exhausted, and injured. Some more than others...” He gave you a pointed look, one which you responded by poking out your tongue childishly “...there will also no doubt be soldiers looking for you. You will not talk tonight, but tomorrow, when all is safe”.

Begrudgingly, Adler agreed, his shoulders sagging heavily with exhaustion. Viktor clapped victoriously, before offering to show the three men to a room they could use for the night. As Woods and Mason followed Viktor upstairs, you disappeared into the kitchen to retrieve the medical supplies that were kept in the cupboard above the stove. Managing to retrieve a spare bandage, medical tape and disinfectant, you trudged over to the table and collapsed into one of the chairs with a loud sigh. Carefully removing your long-sleeved shirt and tossing it to the side, you figured that perhaps it was time to throw the torn and bloody piece of clothing away. There was no way the blood would was from it now.

After cleaning the wound and stitching it with small strips of medical tape, you wrapped you arm with the bandage, grimacing as a blinding pain shot through your veins. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you allowed your eyes to close briefly. The memory from the bunker kept playing over and over again, Perseus’ voice echoing from somewhere within your subconscence.

Operation Hydra, you are my most valuable asset.

You were brought back to reality by the clinking of glasses, and the chair beside you scraping against the floor as someone sat down with a light groan. Opening your eyes slowly, you were surprised to see Adler sitting there, pouring two glasses of what appeared to be whiskey. “Now this, is the last thing you expect to find in an old Russian man’s cupboard” He spoke lowly, extending one of the glasses toward you with a raised eyebrow.

Despite the mood you were in, you couldn’t belp but laugh softly, taking the glass from his grasp with a small nod of thanks. As if in unison, both you and Adler downed the contents of your glasses, causing you to sigh at the pleasant burning sensation. Your eyes met, and Adler shook his head. “How the fuck did you survive?” “Why? Have you come back to finish the job?” You asked quickly, watching with observant eyes as Adler’s hand tightened around his glass, his knuckles turning white as his shoulders tensed. “We came back to Solovetsky, because we picked up some Russian chatter about our old friend Perseus. He was planning to rebuild that base up there...” He breathed, his scarred features forming a scowl “we didn’t expect to find you”.

You laughed bitterly, leaning back into your seat and folding your arms over your chest “I bet that was a surprise for you-”

“Do you realise how hard it was for me to come back here Bell?-”

“That’s not my name”.

Adler paused at your threatening tone, huffing loudly as you glared daggers. If only looks could kill. You sat up straighter in your seat, jaw clenching as you spoke “My name is Y/n, but I assume you already knew that”. When the man before you said nothing, and instead found the surface of the table more interesting, you stood up abruptly.

“Did you regret it?” You dared ask, your voice becoming soft, grabbing Adler’s attention. When his gaze met yours, his lips parted in response “Regret what?-” “Don’t fuck me around, Adler...” You snapped, violently slamming your hands down atop the table “you’ve screwed me over enough. I don’t think you understand how hard this is for me. The man I trusted with my life, the man who fucked up my mind and shot me because he considered me a loose end, is sitting right in front of me. No more lies. No more bullshit. Tomorrow, you will tell me everything you know, and I will tell you everything I know, which admittedly isn’t much. But if your plan is to just fuck me over again, then I’m already out”.

When Adler didn’t respond, you took that as your sign to leave. You ignored Woods and Mason, who watched you storm past them up the staircase to the second floor of the house. You were beyond tired, overwhelmed by the days events.

Viktor brought you tea later that night, offering his company should you need it.

Tag List: @pookolokon @travelllar @basicwhiteasian @shellshockedbell @inteligentecat @staryozora @lovinggooppalacebanana @ktdragonborn @quietblogs-2-rd @cerezi

#russell adler x reader #russell adler #russell adler imagine #call of duty x reader #call of duty #call of duty imagine #call of duty black ops #call of duty cold war #call of duty black ops cold war

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5thmarauderwrites · 4 years

Text

Apps, Texts & Wizardry — The Marauders x Reader | Request.

Requests are: OPEN.

Requested by Anonymous: “Helooo💛 could you write a modern au where the reader is teaching the marauders how to use tech? Have a nice day :)“.

Pairing: The Marauders x Fem!Reader [platonic].

Word Count: 2,4K

Warnings: None, it’s basically all fun and teasing and friends being friends.

A/N: Hope you like this! I had to refrain myself from the dialogues a bit because i had lots of fun remarks and teasing moments in my head as i imagined how the teaching process would be, so it would end up being very, very long if i hand’t stopped myself. Also the title SUCKS because i literally couldn’t think about anything good.

“L/N!” James yelled your last name in the middle of the library, shaking a brand new smartphone clutched in his hand; Sirius and Peter on his trail. Remus walked a little further, an apologetic frown on his features as he looked at you.

“Potter!” Madam Pince shrieked. “Out! Now!”

“But I’ve just got here!” The boy with unruly black hair protested.

“I do not care! Screams and loud tones of voice are strictly forbidden in my library! Go on – out! Out before I hex you!” The witch brandished her feather duster at the boy as she gesticulated for him to leave.

James grimaced, pushing his glasses higher up on the bridge of his nose, “I just need to talk to my friend, please! She’s right there!” He pointed to you, who watched the unfolding scene with a look of pure terror, in fear that Madam Pince would banish you from the library for good after James’ antics.

Madame Pince sent you a death glare before turning back to the Marauders with a fulminant look on her face, “out, all of you! NOW!”

“We haven’t even done anything!” Sirius shrugged with a frown, trying to defend himself.

The older witch gave them a last warning glare and, getting the message; Remus mumbled an apology and dragged the other three boys out of the room. Madam Pince waited until they were completely off the library’s limits to walk angrily to the table you were sharing with Lily, Marlene and Alice in the quieter corner of the study room.

“L/N!” She spat as she approached your table. “You know you’re one of the few students that I actually tolerate in this school, but this better not happen again because next time you’ll be kicked out with them!”

You widened your eyes in horror and nodded vigorously, afraid to make any noise and irritate the librarian even more. Madam Pince huffed satisfied at your acknowledgement of her threat before turning on her heels and leaving you with a dumbfounded look on your face.

“I don’t know how you and Remus can be friends with those twats,” Lily said in a belittled tone of voice whilst rolling her eyes.

“They’re not that bad once-“ you started to defend the Marauders but trailed off as you looked in the direction of the closed window by the side of the door and saw James and Sirius with their faces glued to the glass, waving for you to come to them.

“You were saying?” Marlene frowned disgustedly at their behaviour.

“Come on, they’re nice people, girls!” Alice chuckled, defending the boys as the sweet and kind person she was.

“They are! Thank you, Ali!” You wrapped your arm around the girl’s shoulders in a gesture of appreciation.

“Sure,” Lily teased with a frown as she studied the boys, whom were now making silly faces at your group from behind the glass window. “I’m sure if you google stupid twats their names won’t come up as soon as you hit the search button.”

Marlene high-fived Lily at her remark and you couldn’t help but smile, even though you rolled your eyes at your redhead friend, “you know you and James have a lot in common, don’t you?” You teased, getting up and grabbing your phone and laptop.

“Where are you going?” She asked amidst a blush, purposely ignoring what you had just said.

“To see what they bloody want before Madam Pince spots them and forbids me to step a foot into the library for good of course,” you shrugged with a lopsided grin and walked away from your lady friends, heading to the boys in the corridor.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry! I told these idiots that you were studying and they should not bother you!” Remus said as soon as he saw your moving figure approaching the door, his arms up in an apologetic gesture.

“That’s okay, Rem. I know their stupidity is uncontrollable,” you chuckled, squeezing the taller boy’s shoulder.

“Hey!” Sirius exclaimed, offended, as he ran a hand through his thick dark locks.

“She’s not lying,” Remus said with a light shrug of his shoulders, pressing his lips together to contain a smile.

“What do you bloody want from me anyway to barge in the library like that?” You winged your brows, specifically scolding James.

“Sorry about that, little one. Madam Pince really needs to learn how to relax,” he frowned, recalling her unpleasant screams. “Anyway, we got ourselves brand new phones and this muggle box you call a laptop and we were wondering if you could help us out with those… things.”

You lifted a brow as you crossed your arms across your chest, “you got phones? And laptops?” You repeated his sentence with a surprised tone of voice.

“That’s what I just said, yes,” James frowned.

“I reckon you saying something like,” you started, raising your hands in the air and mimicking quotes as you tried your best to impersonate James, “’I will never trade my owl and parchments for these bloody muggle things with these annoying noises.’”

“I’ll admit I may have spoken too soon,” he shrugged with a grimace. “Blimey, it’s hard not to surrender to those things when the entire school and even the Professors are using it!”

You gazed at James with an amused look on your face.

“So, will you help us out, love?” Sirius steadied himself on you as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and stared at you with puppy eyes.

“I could use the help of these things to improve my studying method and have easier access to books,” Remus said shyly, putting his hands into his pockets.

“I want to try those games the lads have been playing, they’re even talking about doing championships and starting clubs,” Peter’s eyes twinkled as he nodded excitedly.

You heaved a sigh as you looked to the pleading faces of the four Marauders. “Fine, I’ll help you idiots out.”

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You had been helping the Marauders with the muggle technology for a few days now and it wasn’t getting any easier. As wizards born and raised into wizarding families, the boys never had any sort of familiarity with technology nor muggle devices before, which hampered the task in hand considerably. Even Remus, who was unquestionably the cleverest among them, was struggling to learn how to properly use a phone.

Beginning with the smartphone was your idea, because you thought that after they mastered this complex device, learning how to use a laptop would be a piece of cake. You just didn’t imagine that it would be so bloody difficult.

“Wait, wait, and wait!” Sirius interrupted your explanation about the Face ID for the third time with a confused frown as he threw his head back heavily into the back pillow of the Gryffindor Common Room sofa. “How am I supposed to make my face unlock this thing? Will I have to hex it?”

“No, you daft dimbo!” You huffed, annoyed. “I’ll get there if you just stop interrupting me!”

“Sorry, love,” he smirked satisfied at your apparent annoyance, resting his elbows on Remus’ and James’ shoulders. “I’ll admit I have a liking to piss you off; and apparently I accomplish that even when I’m not trying to.”

“You sure do!” You smiled wryly at him, curling your legs on the seat of the stuffed armchair you were occupying, leaning yourself a little in the boys direction. “Anyway, you’ll access your phone settings right… here,” you said, showing them with your phone where to tap. “To register your face, you’ll need to hold your device between 10 and 20 inches away from you. With your face centered in the circle, you’ll move your head around until the scan is complete.”

The boys quickly followed your instructions and registered their faces, finally completing the basic configurations of their phones as they did so, allowing you to start teaching them how to use its apps and download other ones.

“There’s a camera in this? Cool!” Sirius exclaimed excitedly once he unlocked his phone screen. “What?” He added with a smile when you chuckled at his reaction.

“I’ve always thought that if you were a muggle, you’d sort of be an edgy photographer,” you answered with a lopsided grin.

“I could be one to,” James shrugged uninterested. “I’d definitely be edgy.”

“You, James? Come on!” You rolled your eyes, laughing wholeheartedly. “You’d be an annoying influencer jock.”

“A what?” He asked, utterly confused as if you were speaking in another language.

“You’d definitely be an overachiever high school athlete who were not only famous at school but also on the internet,” you winged your brows at him, resting your chin of your fist.

“You’d definitely be like that, mate!” Remus laughed, pointing his index finger at James.

“Yeah? And how would all-mighty Moony be?” James teased, crossing his arms across his chest and bending his head a little so he could playfully stare at his brown-haired friend.

“Rem would be a total hipster!” You shouted excitedly, clapping your hands. “He’d definitely be an outsider to the cultural mainstream, he’d have an online blog where he’d review books and would definitely be vocal about structural issues in the muggle society.”

“Why would he be the coolest among us?” James frowned, a little annoyed.

“Because he already is,” you shrugged, winging your brows.

“I can totally see muggle Moony being like that too,” Peter nodded vaguely from his seat on the arm of the sofa, picturing what you had just said inside his head.

“Can we focus on the tech again?” James said, swinging his phone in the air.

“Yes, we can, you pampered berk,” you answered, the ends of your lips curling up into an amused smirk as you got up of the armchair and motioned to the sofa, squeezing yourself between James and Sirius.

Slowly, you started to explain to them how to use the iMessage service and how to text someone and read the texts you receive. The boys seemed awestruck by the fact that you could get in touch with someone so easily and get an instant response back.

“Wicked! Now I can ask Lily out without putting myself in danger!” James exclaimed excitedly, the blaze that crackled in the fireplace lighting up his features. “Can’t I?”

“Well, she can always block your number, you know…” you frowned mockingly at him, earning amused laughs from Remus, Sirius and Peter.

The four of you teased James for a while before you and the boys got back to the teaching process. An hour or so later, you had already covered all the phone basic apps and they were already familiar with their functions and how to properly use them.

“Now, to the fun stuff!” You announced excitedly. “Let’s introduce you lads to the wonderful world of the trending apps.”

“Are there more?” Sirius widened his eyes as he rested his head on your shoulder.

“Indeed, my dear Black!” You quirked your brows satisfied, tilting your head so you could look him in the eyes. “There are tons of apps you can download to improve your experience, apps that match your likings such as, in your case, dating apps.”

“Dating apps? Can’t you just charm the ladies through texts?” He asked confusedly.

“You sure can, but these apps are basically made for people who want to engage on… knowing someone a little bit better, if you know what I mean,” you chuckled. “With the dating apps you don’t have to ask yourself if the other person is somehow romantically interested in you, because when they swipe right and the match is made, it means the interest is mutual.”

“And how would you know all this?” He asked, lifting his head and smirking mockingly at you. “Y/N L/N, do you use dating apps?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” you retorted, blushing furiously. Sirius’ smirk grew wider.

A sudden silence fell among the five of you as you and Sirius stared at each other with narrowed eyes; he holding a teasing look whilst you held a deadly one. James and Remus watched the scene with delighted expressions whilst Peter monotonously scrolled through his phone screen.

“Ahem,” Remus cleared his throat with an amused smile, dragging you and Sirius back to reality. “Are there any good apps to download books and to read them?”

You slowly tilted your head in Remus’ direction and, nodding, started to show him the apps you had on your phone for reading purposes and which ones you thought would fit his needs better. Remus avidly listened to your tips whilst downloading each and every app you had mentioned on his own phone.

The day quickly faded into night as you and the Marauders went on and on about the technologies and its functions and soon, the five of you were the only ones in the now silent Common Room, the light coming from the fireplace and the displays of your phones being the only things shining in the almost complete darkness.

“And done!” James exclaimed, getting up from the sofa and stretching himself. “TikTok is already downloaded and ready to be used! Tomorrow we’ll pull the ‘Dance Like a Hippogriff’ prank and Y/N here will film everything so we can upload the edited video on our TikTok account later.”

“Excuse you?” You frowned, crossing your arms across your chest.

“It’ll be fun, I promise!” He joined his hands pleadingly. “Come on! Please?” He added at the grimace you made.

“Fine!” You rolled your eyes with a smile after a few seconds. “Now I’m going to bed before another brilliant idea pops up into that twat mind of yours."

Saying goodbye to the Marauders, you walked to the stairs that led to the girls’ dormitory and took a quick look over your shoulder. Before you climbed up the stairs, a smile formed on your lips as you saw the four boys talking excitedly and laughing whilst scrolling through their phones.

#au #modern au #imagines #the marauders #the marauders imagine #harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #james potter x reader #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #peter pettigrew

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whitexwingedxdoves · 3 years

Text

a love like war | part two

Pairing: Negan x Reader Pronouns: She/her Warnings: Language Summary: Sequel to The Other Side: It seems like Negan’s efforts to win you back are too hard to fight off. A/N: I had so much fun with this sequel <3 Again all the thanks goes to @jinxeee <3 Tags: @aubageddon91 @phoenixblack89 @chloe-skywalker @srhxpci @browneyes528

Read part one here.

When you arrived back at Alexandria, Daryl wasn’t best pleased when he saw you with Negan. In fact that night he gave you a lecture on how you should have found a way to tell him. You could barely even think for yourself that night, all you could think about was what Negan had said to you but you realised quickly that it was a dangerous territory for you to be in. You had come to the conclusion that you wouldn’t put yourself in a situation like that again, you’d do your very best to stay clear of the ex leader.

Michonne had taken it upon herself to join Daryl in a hunt leaving you with babysitting duties, Judith had gone off to work on her homework and RJ seemed content playing in the street, you watched him dance around the street giggling at the story he had made up in his head from the kitchen window, it was the first time since the hoard that you felt at ease. You turned away for just a second to place down your empty glass and when you returned to the window, RJ was much further down the road crying. It looked like he had fallen over and hurt himself which only panicked you, you took off running out of the house and in his direction.

Before you made it to RJ’s side you noticed the very man you had been avoiding bent down by his side, making the child smile and forget about the scrap on his knee. You could feel all the muscles in your body tense as you slowed your pace, your heart was racing as you made your way to the boy’s side. You noticed Negan rubbing his hand over the graze that now occupied the child’s skin reminding him it was nothing and just a bump. He managed to calm RJ down completely as you bent over to check on him. “What happened buddy?” your voice was soft and calm as you reached your arms out to the boy, instantly he clung onto you in the form of a hug.

“Little fella just had a fall” Negan now spoke, nudging RJ gently before sending him a wink “but you’re alright now, aren’t ya?” RJ seemingly turned shy and nodded at the question.

Your head only seemed to grow foggier as you watched the way Negan interacted with the toddler, your heart seemed to swell at the sight “Thank you” you whispered to the tall man as you both rose to your feet. He shrugged off your appreciation as if his actions didn’t require a thanks. “You know its cheating when you use the kids too get me to forgive you” though you passed it as a joke, you felt it fully, you couldn’t believe a simple act of kindness towards a child would almost make you forget the torture you endured at the hands of the man. Negan simply laughed at your words allowing his tongue to guide his bottom lip between his teeth. You looked down at RJ letting him back down on his feet now that he seemed confident enough to brave walking again. “Thank you, again” your eyes now met with Negan’s again and he sent you a sincere smile. You’re not sure why but you stood on the tips of your toes and gave him a small kiss on his cheek and turned away from him following RJ back down the street. You instantly regretted your actions, a moment of weakness on your behalf only confirmed Negan’s plans to win back your heart were slowly working.

You gave it a lot of thought and now that Daryl had gone to Hilltop to help out some more up there, you decided to give Negan the benefit of the doubt. You told Gabriel you were willing to take your share of shifts on ‘Negan watch’ though you weren’t fully ready to forgive him for what he had done, he had proven his willingness to change and that seemed like enough to build some sort of friendship with him and start your healing process.

The shifts went well, not once did he ever say anything out of place or make you feel uncomfortable. He’d ask you about your day and offer you a joke about his, you got on fairly well for the first two days. You had mentioned to him that Judith was struggling with her math work and he offered to help with your supervision. You’d take her to the cell and let her ask him questions and laugh whenever she responded to him with nothing but pure sass. When she had finally had enough of her work, Judith took off leaving you alone with Negan.

You unlocked his cell door and asked him to hold out his hands so you could shackle him. “Thank you for that “ you giggled, taking his hands in yours and clasping the handcuffs on. You were taken back slightly when your skin touched his but you didn’t let it show.

“She sure has an attitude” he allowed a chuckle of his own pass as he looked down at you, your eyes slowly met with his and it caused instant tension. It confused you how he still had such a hold on your heart despite all the horrible things he put you through. You barely noticed his eyes flickering between your gaze and your lips. When he slowly lowered his head that when you pulled away, pushing on his chest a little to make him stand further back into his cell.

“What the fuck!” you shouted in his direction, your breathing seemed to become short as you tried to piece together what just happened.

“Im sorry, I thought-“ you cut him off instantly, the anger quickly bubbling to the surface.

“You thought what? You thought that just because you helped a kid with their math homework I’m gonna instantly forget what you did to me?” He hung his head in shame as you scolded him. “You can’t just pull that shit! It’s not fair! Every time I see you, there’s always some new attempt to get me to forgive you but it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter how much I love you, it’s never going to change the fact that you broke me. I can’t trust you” tears now streamed down your face like a constant flowing body of water.

“I’ll never stop” Negan shouted back at you, your face starting to crease as he spoke. “I won’t stop until I make it right, until I make it up to you. You’re the only thing that matters now.” His words managed to take away your ability to breathe. Your stomach felt as though there was a large pit that occupied it, shaking your head you turned away from him and ran out of the room, ignoring any stares you seemed to attract as you made your way down the street. You tried your best to mask the emotion that spilled from your eyes but the wet tracks on your face gave you away.

You found yourself sitting in one of the newer buildings, people often gathered there for prayer and though your faith had been tested by the new world, you seemed drawn to it. You sat on one of the many chairs available and admired the woodwork of the beams that supported the room, you thought you were alone until you heard footsteps creeping up behind you. You turned to meet their maker and were met with the priest himself, you gave him a soft smile before turning your attention back to the beams. “I can’t remember the last time I saw you in here” Gabriel’s words were soft as he pulled up a seat next to you, you let a breathy laugh pass as you let your head hang a little “something on your mind?” what wasn’t on your mind, you looked over at the man sending him an obvious look.

“You could say that” you joked back pressing your lips into a thin line. “I’m not much of a believer but I think only a higher power can help me with the situation I find myself in” you sighed to further prove the stress you felt. Gabriel let a small smile creep onto his lips before placing his hand on your shoulder and just like that you let everything out, you explained your situation with Negan and how confused you felt by his recent pass. You’re not sure how Gabriel made you feel safe enough to trust him with your honesty but he did and he did it well.

He allowed the information to settle for a moment before a sigh of his own passed his lips “anyone who is given the chance can change” you weren’t convinced of his words, you knew people could change but you also knew that once someone had crossed a line, there was no going back and you were sure Negan crossed the line long ago. “You and I both know that a second chance can go a long way, maybe Negan deserves one too but only you can decide that ” Gabriel left you to your own thoughts after that, he figured he helped as much as he could. You stayed in your seat for a while thinking over the new advice you had been given, tears seemed to cloud your eyesight as you grew closer to your conclusion. Eventually you allowed yourself to leave the building, even though you weren’t fully convinced of your decision you made your way in the direction of Negan’s cell.

Negan was laid on his bed, staring up at the concrete wall when you made your way back into the room. He instantly pulled himself from the bed and made his way to the bars, he opened his mouth to talk but you cut him off before he had chance “I thought about, about you” at first your words came out as whisper, you seemed shy as you kept yourself close to the door but the way he looked at you in that moment made you sure this was the right decision. “I’m not sure how it will work, I mean your in prison for crying out loud” you bit down on your lip as you allowed your eyes to meet finally “but I can’t deny it anymore, I’ve tried to fight it, to bury it so deep that it can’t resurface but it always does. I don’t know why after the shit you put me through but I do, I love you” you tried to disguise the crack in your voice but at that point it didn’t matter, your feelings were now stripped bare and you felt naked as you stood before him. “I’m willing to at least try put it behind me, give you a second chance but if you do as much as put a toe out of line in anyway, I’ll make sure they keep you locked in this cell until you die” You stood your ground and did your best to stay stern but the wobble of your chin gave away your nerves.

Negan didn’t say a word he just nodded waiting for you to finish your speech but he still didn’t have a word to say. The room fell silent after that, you watched the former leader with tears in your eyes, noting how desperate he looked as he waited by the door of his cell for you. You were slow with putting the key in the lock and once you heard the sound that signalled it had unlocked your eyes met with his again, slowly you pulled back the metal bars until even he couldn’t take it anymore. He pushed through the bars and his hands engulfed your face, your heart felt like it was on fire when he touched you, your eyes flickered slightly at the pure euphoria your skin felt against his. It wasn’t long until his lips were entangled with yours, the way he attacked your lips like there was nothing else he wanted more made you let out a soft moan. It was like music to his ears. You allowed your hands to find the back of his neck as he let his hands slowly fall down your body and wrap around you to bring you closer to him. As he slowly pulled away from you, your eyes started to well up again. You pressed your head against his chest your hands clutching onto the fabric of his shirt “please don’t break me again”

#negan twd #twd negan #twd negan fanfiction #twd negan fanfic #negan x you #twd negan x you #negan x reader #negan x y/n #negan fanfiction #jeffrey dean morgan #negan fanfic

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hongnanglen-arina · 3 years

Text

The Ulzzang Project - Part 1 | Jeon Wonwoo

Read part 2

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Genre: Fluff, crack (maybe explicit content in the next chapters)

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x female reader

Warnings: none

Words: 2.6k

A/N: Hello there! Here’s part 1 of my mini series of you and Wonwoo, the next ulzzang stars hahaha :3 I’d be happy to know your thoughts about it. I’m already working on part 2. I might spice it up in the upcoming chapters. If you don’t like that, scream at me and I will stop hehet. So, have fun! And as always, please remember that English isn’t my first language so excuse my grammar ♡

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You sat in Wonwoo’s apartment. It was one of those Saturday nights where you two would order greasy food, have competitive game sessions and cuddle together on his couch or in his huge bed. You’ve known each other ever since your mothers went to driving school together. Both got married to their significant other and soon you two were born, making them joke that you two should end up together when you get older. That didn’t happen obviously. Instead you grew up like siblings, spending nearly all of your free time together, fighting over stupid little things but always making up quickly after. Even studying together, entering the same university and sharing the same group of friends. You two were kind of inseparable.

“Wait, why is the bucket of fried chicken already empty???” You shot a shocked look at the boy beside you who wasn’t paying attention to you but bobbed his head to the music of the band in the youtube video which was playing on his tv screen, licking his fingers clean to get another slice of pizza. Before taking a bite, he gave you a rather emotionless answer, his face dead ass serious. “Dunno. Maybe we ate it?”

You scoffed at his words. Oh Jeon Wonwoo.

More laughing, more jamming to music and more teasing until you were full, halfway lying on the floor while you talked about the new annoying professor at uni that scolded Dokyeom on his very first day and was on bad terms with him from that day on.

After a while you cleaned up and started to play Dead or Alive to ‘relieve some stress’. You two had mastered this game for years now, resulting in you and Wonwoo winning and loosing the same amount of times. While you stick to one character, he switched to different ones but even though you two were always close, you would never grow tired of this game and those competitions with him.

When he left for using the bathroom, you unlocked your phone and scrolled through Instagram, stopping at a specific post of a couple who uploaded a suggestive photo of them without revealing much of their person. You cocked your head to the side and Wonwoo noticed it when he came back. “What are you looking at, y/n?” He sat down beside you and you showed him your phone. “Look, they aren’t doing much and the photo has quite a bad quality - maybe on purpose - but it is still good that I understand why people push the like button. Effortless aesthetic.”

Wonwoo made an annoyed grimace at your words and you raised an eyebrow. “What?” “Anyone can do that.” “Why do you think that?” Your best friend thought for a moment and pulled out his own phone, unlocking it and going through some apps until he held it in front of the two of you. Before you could ask what he was doing, he got closer to you and took a photo. You noticed that the room was silent. Only some faint noises from outside the window could be heard when he showed the photo to you. It was a photo of you two next to each other but other people wouldn’t recognize you two. The photo showed only your lips, chin, neck and a little bit of your shirt. You looked up at him and saw his grin. Wonwoo moved a little so that it seemed like he was going to kiss you. Slightly panicking, you automatically covered your face, asking him what the hell he was doing when you heard the shutter of his phone once again, signalizing that he took another photo.

The room was quiet when you removed your hands, a soft blush on your cheeks when he turned the screen, giving you a better look of the new photo. Wonwoo used a filter that gave your photo a nice vintage look. Blinking, you were kind of impressed. If you didn’t know better, you would say that it was a photo of a famous ulzzang couple from Instagram. Noticing Wonwoo’s pleased smirk, you hit his chest. “Yah, what was that all about, huh?? You can’t just-“ “I’m going to open a new account. I’m curious how many followers and likes we can get in a month.”

You had a hard time to follow, squinting your eyes and opening your mouth like a fish without saying anything. He tapped on his phone happily, completely ignoring your confused state. “W-wait, what did you say? What do you mean? A new account? Followers? What?” You tried to have a better look on his screen but he turned around, chuckling a little so that his round glasses slid down the bridge of his nose a bit in the process. “Jeon Wonwoo! Answer!”

Fighting you off his shoulders, he took his sweet time to do whatever he was doing on his phone and you whined, asking for answers but not getting one at all. Sighing, you gave up after a while, giving his broad back a death glare as you turned around and took your own phone, opening the previous app and pouting while scrolling through the already seen posts. You were facing the other direction, sitting back against back. Hearing Wonwoo chuckle from time to time or giving a thinking noise, he always got your attention but since he never explained what he was doing, you took some selfies, sticking out your tongue and pointing at the boy behind you. After editing it a little more, you uploaded it on your Instagram site with the single word ‘idiot’ and tagged him. Giggling to yourself, you didn’t notice the shuffling noises and the warmth behind you disappearing when Wonwoo literally shoved his phone in your face. Your groan got stuck in your throat when you finally got your answer.

Taking his phone out of his hand, you took a better look. It was a seemingly new Instagram account with one content, zero followers and zero following. Your eyes widen when you click on the only photo in this account. It was you two. The photo from before. You were covering your face while the photo was cut, only showing Wonwoo’s grin against your hands. Your eyes travel lower, silently reading through the hashtags he had added. #cutecouple #shy #ulzzangcouple #saturdaynight and 18 more. It didn’t take long until the first stranger liked your photo and you blinked in disbelief. That’s when you noticed the user icon. It was the sunflower you got Wonwoo when he moved into his apartment. The very first day. You remembered the moment when he stopped you in his door and took a photo of you. Although he cut it, you could still see your hands holding the flowers plus a part of your white dress from that day.

Another notification. Another 3 likes. You turned to Wonwoo, who was awaiting your opinion. Pointing at his phone and the still open app, you asked “Are you serious?” “Totally.” His short remark wasn’t convincing enough and the way Wonwoo continued talking showed you that he understood. “It’s like a little experiment. We take some photos together, upload it and wait. As I said, I’m curious how famous our little site can become. We can delete and close it after a month if you want.”

He watched your face patiently until you met his gaze. “Okay. Fine for me. But I have a question.”

“Go ahead.”

“Are we going to upload cute photos only or.. uhm… other photos also?”

“What do you mean with other photos?”

Oh Jeon Wonwoo don’t play dumb, you thought to yourself but lifted your arm, pulling your collar down a bit to reveal more of your neck and collarbone. “This.”

“Sexy?” Wonwoo smirked at you and you rolled your eyes, giving him a hard push so that he rolled onto his back, laughing at your reaction.

You pouted and crossed your arms in front of your chest in an attempt to distract yourself from the blush on your face. You have seen it often enough. Accounts like that. And you would lie if you say you didn’t like them. Many of them showed their strongly edited faces but some didn’t show their faces at all and you guessed your site would be like the latter. If you are going to include more revealing or suggestive photos, you would care less if no one could see who it actually was.

That’s how you agreed.

The whole night the two of you brainstormed. You collected ideas for your next photos and had lots of fun with it. Even lying in his bed together, giggling about the most common couple poses and making gagging noises when looking them up. At around 3 am you yawned and Wonwoo put his phone and glasses on the little night stand, opening his arms for you to crawl in as you always did. You just loved to sleep in his arms. It was some kind of habit since you were little. You loved his scent and his warmth and sometimes you even found yourself at your own home unable to fall asleep because he wasn’t there.

The warm and bright sun woke Wonwoo up. He wanted to turn around and get some more sleep but decided to open one eye instead, noticing that you weren’t there anymore. So he stretched his limbs in all directions and put on his glasses. After grabbing his phone and getting out of bed, he waddled to the living room and found you in the small kitchen corner, humming a song he knew while preparing breakfast - or according to the time on the clock, lunch.

He was about to join you when he stopped in his tracks and unlocked his phone, quickly taking a photo before putting it away again.

“What is my baby making?”

Facing him, you shot him your infamous death glare. “Baby? Really?”

Wonwoo laughed at your unamused voice and joined you, stopping right behind your small form and looking over your shoulder. “Do you know how I like my omelette?” Snorting loudly, you threatened him with your balled first that he quickly ran to the dining table and took his seat. Like the good and obedient boy that he could be. Sometimes.

He was silent while you added your finishing touches to the late breakfast but when you started to set everything on the table Wonwoo was waiting at, he took another photo, a smile plastered on his face. "What did I do to deserve you, hm?"

You were about to take the first bite of omelette when you stopped in your tracks, fork just inches away from your lips. "Okay, what's going on, Wonwoo? You are super strange today?"

"Is that a surprise to you?"

"Not really... but today you're super super strange so tell me."

He grinned at you and took a sip of the orange juice. "I'm just happy to be with my baby, that's it."

"There!" You pointed at him with your fork. "What is that all about, huh? Since when am I your baby?? Did I miss out on something last night or what??"

The dark haired boy in front of you chuckled as you tried to squeeze an answer out of him, with no success. Slowly worry crept up your spine. "Wait.. I didn't do anything to you, right? Or, I didn't say anything uh... strange, right? I know we had alcohol but... Wonwoo, tell me."

You saw him wiggle with his eye brow at you. "What do you wish did happen between us?"

"Yah! Jeon Wonwoo, I- .... I saw you naked more than one hundred times! I know all your secrets! I know you better than you know yourself! I.... I am just not your baby!"

He leaned back, crossing his arms in front of his chest while watching you pout. "Chill. I'm just trying to get into the mood."

"For what?"

"For sexy photos."

"For what?!"

"For s-"

"I heard you!!"

"Then why are you asking?"

The piece of omelette had fallen down from your fork a long time ago and you weren't sure what was more important in this very moment. The only thing that you were sure about was the fact that your cheeks were burning like fire. "I... why the heck do you want sexy photos?!"

"You wanted sexy photos for our experiment and here I am. The bestest friend that has ever existed is willing to take some with you. Shouldn't you feel all giddy or so?"

"Says who?" You mirrored him, crossing your arms as well, trying to remember your exact words from the day before. You thought you did ask about more revealing photos but it was just a question about the content of your shared Instagram, your little experiment or how Wonwoo had called it. You just wanted to be sure. Never have you imagined to take some with him a day later, today.

"Forget it. I'm not going to do that."

"Now I'm sad."

Snorting, you rolled your eyes, sure he said it only to sound funny.

—

You sat with your friends from uni, poking your lunch with your chopsticks in such boredom that you were more than sure nothing could grab your attention nor lighten up the mood. But you were wrong. Seungkwan hit your shoulder and you were ready to start a fight when he showed you his cellphone screen. "Y/n, what do you think? Yesterday I started a couple Instagram with my girlfriend. It was something I've been thinking about for a while but yeah. How do you find our first post? Pretty nice, huh? We already got 217 likes!"

One chopstick fell out of your hand in surprise but you quickly nodded at your friend. Your own site was a secret. There was no way you would ever tell your friends about it especially if - one day - you would really post less child friendly content. No way. Also, where was Wonwoo?

"W-wow, 217 likes after a day is pretty impressive!"

"To be exact, it's been 20 hours and..... 32 minutes."

"Whatever."

When Seungkwan turned around to the other friends to show them his site, you secretly opened your own with Wonwoo, scrolling through the amount of likes you got until now. That's when you saw the 2 new posts. A photo of you standing in front of the stove, dressed in an oversized white shirt from Wonwoo, bare legs and one from when you set down the food in front of him. Both photos from that morning. Your own face couldn't be seen but they were edited similar like the first post.

Your eyes flew over the texts Wonwoo had added to each of them.

G'morning baby.

My baby is the best.

Looking around, you quickly made sure that your friends didn't notice what you were doing and you tried to get rid of the warm layer that was covering your cheeks. He wrote baby.

Then you remembered the real reason you opened the app. You wanted to see how many likes you got until now. The newest of the food had 7. The one of you cooking breakfast had 38. And the first one from last saturday had 305 likes. Although you had more than your friend, you wanted the gap to be bigger.

Without noticing, your competitive personality came out. You didn't want to lose to Seungkwan and his girlfriend. Opening Kakao Talk, you wrote Wonwoo a message with a lot of cute shouting emoticons you once bought.

[Y/n] We need more photos - today. I'll be at your place at 7. It's urgent.

⋅𖥔⋅ ━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━ ⋅𖥔⋅

This gif is literally Wonwoo right before he came up with his genius idea lol

#seventeen scenarios #Seventeen #seventeen au #seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagines #Svt #wonwoo #jeon wonwoo #svt wonwoo #kpop fanfic #kpop ff #seventeen ff #kpop #17 #carat #seventeen wonwoo

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nayutai · 3 years

Text

The Task At Hand

Pairing Mingyu x Female OC

Word Count 15.1k

Warnings mentions of infidelity, mentions of racism, foul language, anxiety, insecurities, therapy sessions, dumbasses in love, light choking, dry humping

Summary The first year of marriage is always the hardest. Unfortunately for Mingyu and Kamile, the first year as husband and wife may also be their last.

Notes This absolute behemoth of a fic is my contribution to The Intimacy Anthology where I, along with many other fantastic writers, have explored intimacy in all of its many forms. This fic is incredibly close to my heart and I hope that you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please check out the other stories featured in the project here as well!

Mingyu fumbles with his keys in the dark as he searches for the one that’ll get him into his house. The alcohol coursing through his system is making this very simple task a lot harder than it needs to be. He shouts victoriously when he finally manages to unlock the front door to stumble inside. He freezes when he hears someone clapping slowly off to his right.

“Two minutes and forty seven seconds. That didn’t take you as long as I thought it would but then again you have been good at finishing quickly these days.” Mingyu groans deep in his throat at the scathing words from the woman staring him down from the love seat in the living room. She lifts a glass of what he can only assume is white wine to her lips, draining it quickly.

“I’m too drunk for your bullshit tonight, Kamile.” Mingyu grunts as he leans back against the door to steady himself while he toes his sneakers off. All he wants to do is crawl up the stairs to the guest room he’s been sleeping in so that he can go to sleep. He rolls his eyes when he hears Kamile clear her throat from across the room. If he knows anything about his wife, nothing good is about to come out of her mouth.

“If you didn’t want to hear my bullshit then maybe you should’ve shown up for dinner with my parents tonight.” The venom in her voice makes Mingyu’s blood run cold. He’d totally forgotten about her mother’s birthday dinner tonight. Fuck. As much as he hates to hear her nagging him, even he has to admit that he deserves it this time. This dinner has been planned for months and he should’ve been there.

He forces his eyes to focus when he looks back over at the brooding woman shooting daggers at him from across the room. It’s then he registers the fact that she’s still fully dressed despite the late hour. Kamile is a huge proponent of being comfortable within the walls of her own home and for her to sit in a dress and heels as she waits on his appearance does not bode well for him in the slightest. He’s surprised that she hasn’t launched her wine glass at his head.

“Whatever or whoever you were out doing,” Kamile rises slowly from the couch, impressively steady in her heels despite the bottle of wine she ran through waiting on her neglectful husband to come home. Silence stretches between them interrupted only by the damning clicks of her shoes against the hardwood flooring. Kamile stops to appraise the man she married when she reaches him, wondering where it all went wrong.

“…I hope it was worth it.” She silences his groveling with a raised hand. She’s tired of the arguing. Tired of the excuses. Just tired in general.

Most people would have some sort of emotional response to this but her exhaustion leaves nothing but an empty void in its wake. Mingyu may as well be yelling at a brick wall for all the response he gets from Kamile as she slowly climbs the stairs. The sound of the bedroom door clicking shut echoing around the house may as well have been a gunshot.

“One more thing for her to hold over my fucking head.” Mingyu grumbles as he slowly blazes his own trail up the stairs. He pauses before the closed door to the bedroom they once shared, hand gripping the doorknob in his hand as he contemplates going in to apologize. “What’s the use? Not like she’d listen to me now anyway.”

The bed in the guest room welcomes him like an old friend when he flops down on it, draining him of his energy. Thoughts of how he’ll fix things in the morning drift through his head. Sleep evens out his features, lulling him into a peaceful slumber despite the fact that he’s still fully clothed. The perfect cover for the plans being set in motion right down the hall.

The sun rouses Mingyu from his sleep way before he’s ready. He could’ve sworn that the curtains were pulled closed when he went to bed but it’s hard to know what’s what when you’re three sheets to the wind at god only knows what time. Blindly, he reaches out for his phone where he’d left it on the nightstand but comes up with a piece of paper instead. It takes a minute for his eyes to focus enough to read the words on the page, but when they do he finds himself bolting for the ensuite bathroom. The offensive piece of stationary gently drifting to the ground as if it hasn’t just ruined his life.

He heaves and wretches until he has nothing left to give. His knees buckle several times as he tries to brush his teeth which is an incredibly difficult task to complete when one is sobbing with everything they have. This can’t be happening. He refuses to believe that this is his reality. Mingyu’s heart sinks even lower when he drags himself back to the bedroom and sees Kamile’s wedding ring on the night stand next to his phone. He retrieves the letter from where it rests on the floor, reading it over until the tears he’d fought back make a reappearance.

Doing this feels incredibly impersonal but I feel like it’s probably better this way. I realized that the flame I thought would burn forever is barely a spark anymore. Tonight was an epiphany for me. I realize that I deserve better and I’ve decided that I will have it. I’ve always wished you joy and light and I will probably never stop doing that despite everything that’s happened but I can’t do it as your wife anymore.

Take care,

Kamile Dexter

The usage of her maiden name feels like the final nail in his coffin. He calls. He texts. He emails. He even sends her a message on instagram. Every single attempt to reach her goes unanswered. Anyone could see that things hadn’t been the best between them for a while, but never in his most horrific nightmares did Mingyu think that Kamile would actually leave.

Time is irrelevant to Mingyu in the days that follow Kamile’s departure. He wakes up when his alarm goes off and drifts through the day. His nights are spent calling Kamile despite the fact that she never answers which then leads to him drinking himself into an alcohol-induced sleep complete with all the blessed numbness that it provides until his alarm goes off once more. This is without a doubt the lowest point of his life and he doesn’t know how to fix it. Kamile grew up with Vernon so naturally Mingyu tries to enlist his help. Unfortunately, it seems that she has anticipated that move and stops answering Vernon’s calls and texts as well.

With all of his other options seemingly exhausted, Mingyu calls the one person that could possibly help him, Sidra Dexter. A woman with many accolades to her name, Sidra considers being Kamile’s mother to be the most important among them. If anyone knows how to get through to his wife, it’s Sidra. Mingyu prays that she still has a soft spot for him as the phone rings in his ear. If this call goes unanswered, then he really will lose all hope in saving his marriage.

“It’s about damn time you called me, Gyu Bear. My daughter left you a whole week ago tomorrow and you’re just now enlisting my services? Tell me why that is.” Never a woman to beat around the bush, Sidra gets right to the point with the accuracy of a heat-seeking missile.

“I don’t know what to do, Mama Dee. She won’t talk to me.” Mingyu whines, on the verge of tears for the umpteenth time today.

“Of course she won’t. She’s stubborn just like her ornery ass father.” The aforementioned father pipes up in the background to defend himself but is quickly shut down. “Now back to you, Gyu Bear. You have messed up big time but I love you so I’m going to help you fix it but I have one question first.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Did you cheat on my daughter? And yes that ‘harmless flirting’ shit you men folk like to do counts as cheating in my book.”

“Of course not! Wait…does Kam think I cheated?” Mingyu is floored and honestly a little angered at the fact that after all these years together Kamile thinks he’s actually capable of infidelity. The alcohol-induced haze clears long enough for his brain to recall a comment she’d made the night she left about whoever he was doing being worth it.

“She sure does,” Sidra starts up, “but luckily for you, my gut says that you’re telling the truth and it hasn’t steered me wrong in the last 56 years so I don’t see a reason not to trust it now. So here’s what we’re going to do.”

Mingyu listens intently as Sidra outlines her master plan. Not for the first time, he’s in awe of the way her brain functions. The tightness in his chest subsides a little bit with every word she says. For the first time in the six days since Kamile left, Mingyu feels like his life has meaning again. His marriage might not be over after all.

Despite the fact that Kamile had no intention of answering any of Mingyu’s desperate pleas for attention, the sudden cessation of said pleas only serve to further increase her anguish. She’d originally thought she’d be able to finally find peace when he gave up, but that does not seem to be the case. A part of her didn’t want him to stop trying. Didn’t want him to stop fighting for her.

Did I make the right choice?

The question has haunted her every waking moment as she adjusts to her new normal. She’s been adrift for the last ten days trying to figure out her next plan of action. Should she stay in Korea? Should she go back to America? Should she throw a dart at a map and go wherever it lands? The possibilities are endless but Kamile finds herself unable to fully commit to either option which is how she’s ending up existing on takeout in a hotel for the past week and some change. God, why did she have to be so impulsive? She should’ve made sure that she had a game plan before she just up and left like that.

Her phone rings on the small night stand, interrupting her self-loathing thoughts. Kamile groans when she sees that it’s her mother. Ever since she’d broken the news to her parents that she’d decided to leave Mingyu, her mom has been giving her grief. Kamile had always had a hunch that her mom loved Mingyu just as much if not more than she loved her, but their break up has made her think that her hunch had been closer to the truth than she’d previously thought.

“Hey, ma.” Kamile greets her mother apprehensively, bracing for the latest round of her mother’s reconciliation efforts.

“Hello, my lovely daughter. I just landed in Seoul so if you don’t mind coming to get me from the airport that would be great.” Kamile chokes on the mouthful of noodles she’d been munching on. There’s no way in hell that her mother just said that she’s in Seoul. Sure enough, Kamile pulls her phone away from her ear to check her mother’s location and it says that she is in fact at the Incheon Airport.

“Baby, what did I tell you about making sure you properly chew your food before swallowing. Did you forget what happened to your Uncle Tommy?” Kamile barely hears her mother’s recounting about the uncle who’d died from choking on a fish bone as she rushes around her hotel room gathering her things. She can’t believe her mom really flew halfway across the globe. Thankfully, her hotel isn’t far from the airport so Kamile is helping her mother put her bags in the back of her SUV in no time at all.

“Not that I’m not happy to see you or anything, but what are you doing here?” Kamile questions as she eases her car into the steady stream of traffic bound for the exit.

“You just left your husband and you didn’t come home to me so I don’t know what made you think that I wasn’t coming out here. A friend of mine is letting me stay with her since I know how you are about your space.”

Kamile is more than a little thankful for that. Her mother can be overbearing when she’s on a mission and the fact that she’ll still be able to maintain some personal space is comforting. She’s only too happy to let the gps in her guide her to this friend’s house. The closer they get to their destination though the more unsettled she becomes. She has no idea why her gut is telling her to be suspicious, but she’s definitely not about to ignore it. Kamile’s sense are on high alert when she turns into the driveway of a nondescript home in one of the more affluent suburbs of the city.

“Mom, what’s this friend’s name?” Kamile eyes the structure in front of her as if it could possibly grow teeth and bite her. Something is not right here and if there’s one thing her mother taught her, it’s to trust her gut instinct and right now her gut is telling her to throw her car in reverse and get the hell out of dodge. The only thing keeping her from running for the hills is the fact her mother seems so at ease as she hops out of the car to grab her bags.

“Her name is Bae Yeojin. She studied abroad at Villanova her junior year and we were roommates. She’s got a pretty successful business now.” Kamile hums in acknowledgement. She vaguely recalls her mom telling her about a girl named Yeojin from college, but that does nothing to assuage the uneasiness in her gut.

Kamile waits at the bottom of the steps as her mother knocks on the front door. Her fingers are drumming on banister, eyes glancing back and forth from the ornate door and her car. She clutches her keys like a lifeline. At the slightest provocation, she’s ready to bolt. The two women squeal like school children and not the established professionals they are at the first sight of each other. Kamile wonders briefly how long it’s been since they last saw each other.

“Kamile Danielle Kim get your ass up here and say hi.” Not one to disobey a direct order, especially one accompanied by her full name, Kamile reluctantly climbs the short staircase.

“Jesus, Sid, you really spit this one right out. She’s practically your twin.” Yeojin exclaims. She pulls Kamile into a quick hug before ushering the both of them inside.

One deep breath and Kamile instantly realizes why she felt so uneasy. There’s candles burning in the foyer, but they do nothing to mask the familiar scent she’s spent the last six years smelling. Mingyu is in this house somewhere. She spins around to fix the two women with what she hopes is a threatening glare. Unfortunately, neither one of them appears to be phased by it in the slightest.

“What the hell is going on here?” Kamile’s quickly starting to realize that not trusting her gut has landed her in a situation she most definitely has no interest being in. Her eyes quickly dart back and forth between the two scam artists in front of her.

“I told you she’d figure it out. Pay up.” Yeojin doesn’t take her eyes off Kamile as she holds her hand out to Sidra who is grumbling while she digs in her purse to hand over a few bills.

“Dammit, Kam, did I really raise you to be this observant? You’re costing me money.”

“Yes, now what in the fresh hell do y’all have going on?” The answer to her question comes in the form of timid footsteps sounding off behind her. Her spine stiffens. She doesn’t have to turn around to know who it is. She can sense him. “Fuck this. I’m leaving.”

“No, you’re not. Now turn your little narrow butt around and have a seat.” Sidra adopts the tone she’d frequently used when Kamile was growing up and even now as an adult Kamile knows that disobeying this direct order is not the right choice to make.

It’s with a grimace, that she pivots on her heel to face her husband for the first time since she walked out on him. The satisfaction she feels when she sees just how awful he looks is cancelled out by the fact that she probably looks just as bad. It would be a lie to say that she hasn’t missed the comfort and solace his presence used to bring her. That she doesn’t want to let the outside world fade away as she hides away in his embrace. She wants that back. Craves it even, but enough is enough.

Curse words flow like running water through Kamile’s mind as her mother situates her on a love seat in the living room with Mingyu sat right next to her. His large frame dwarfs the slightly undersized piece of furniture. She can feel the body heat radiating off of him and it’s a battle of wills to keep from leaning into him.

“First things first…” Sidra claps her hands as she and Yeojin take a seat on the sofa opposite the troubled couple, “I think now is a good time to mention that Ms. Yeojin here is actually a therapist who specializes in couples therapy.”

Of course she is.

Kamile rolls her eyes as the puzzle pieces start clicking into place. She could be buried under her blankets, binging on The Golden Girls right now, but no, her meddling ass mother has scammed her into marriage counseling instead. She should’ve ran when she had the chance.

“Based on what Sid has told me, the two of you are exactly one week shy of your first wedding anniversary and already on the verge of divorce. So, who would like to dump their emotional baggage on the floor first?” Yeojin glances between Kamile and Mingyu looking for a crack in their demeanor that she can exploit. Mingyu looks like he wants to hurl while Kamile’s face is a carefully constructed mask of indifference. She makes her choice easily.

“Mingyu, thank you for volunteering. Let’s hear it.”

Put on the spot, Mingyu chances a glance sideways at Kamile before clearing his throat. Yeojin sits at the ready with her notebook and pen. She listens intently as Mingyu tells the fiasco as he sees it.

“I know I forget things sometimes. I try not to, but I’m an idol. I have a lot going on but that’s no different from when we first started dating so I don’t know why it’s suddenly such a big issue now.” Mingyu seems to find his voice as he speaks up on how he believes that he’s been wronged. The timid nervousness he’d felt before quickly getting pushed down so that his frustration can take over.

“When we first started dating, I wasn’t being abandoned in a house all day with nothing to do.” Kamile may have been grumbling under her breath but Mingyu hears her loud and clear. His head whips around so fas that the two mothers across from him silently worry about the neck pain that may cause him later.

“You have nothing to do because you’ve turned down every opportunity that’s come your way.” Thoughts of the numerous job and consulting offers from Pledis and other entertainment companies like them that she turned down come flying to the forefront of his memory. Human resource agents have practically been beating down their door for the chance to work with Kamile, a creative visionary in her own right, but she’s rejected them one after another without a moment’s hesitation.

“You mean every opportunity that you have sent my way. Like why would I want to work at that entertainment company and be forced to watch that bitch Miyeon flirt with you every day like you’re not married?” Mingyu is forced to concede to her point with that one. Miyeon is one of the stylists at the company and, despite his repeated rejection, is too flirtatious for his liking as well. Unfortunately, she’s deeply entrenched in the corporate hierarchy and nothing short of murder would make the higher ups get rid of her even if all of the members have lodged complaints against her.

“Is that the simple hoe you come home smelling like every time you’re ‘out with the boys’?” Kamile adds on as if she’s finally started connecting some dots in her overactive imagination. The fact that she has even entertained the thought of Mingyu not only cheating on her but cheating on her with Miyeon of all people makes his blood boil.

“Why do you think I’m cheating on you? Why do you always just assume the worst about me? Do you think Vernon would ever let me even think about cheating on you? The man hates violence but he would beat my ass over you and we all know that.” The frown on Kamile’s face falters at the mention of her oldest friend. Mingyu is correct in saying that he would absolutely fight him, but there are still some thing that aren’t adding up. Yeojin attempts to halt the conversation so that they can delve deeper into what Mingyu just said but Kamile beats her to the punch.

“You come home smelling like warm vanilla sugar every night when everybody knows that I am a Japanese cherry blossom supremacist. What am I supposed to think, Mingyu?” She can’t believe that he has the audacity to sit next to her and still lie. The palms of her hands itch with the urge to throw things but she’s done enough of that plus this isn’t exactly her house either.

“Seokmin always sprays us down with some random perfume because he says it keeps the women away and honestly, it actually works like a charm so I’m always first in line to get sprayed.” Kamile’s anger deflates almost immediately. To anyone that doesn’t know Lee Seokmin that would sound like a crock of shit, but it’s perfectly on brand for him.

“Well, how was I supposed to know that?”

“We’re fucking married, Kamile. You could’ve just asked. Better yet you could have come with me to these events like I’ve asked you to do a million times.”

“You know I hate those things.”

“Everyone hates them, but I would hate them a lot less if I had you there with me. I just feel like I’ve been trying to make an effort but you’re not meeting me halfway.”

“I knew my Gyu Bear wasn’t a cheater!” Sidra, who hasn’t set a word since things had started to get heated, pipes up.

“God, Mom could you at least pretend that you love me more than him?” Kamile throws her hands up in frustration. Her mother’s obvious favoritism is really starting to get to her right now.

“Not until you start giving me less grief.”

“Now, now, Sid. Let’s not derail the progress we’re making here. Kamile, is there anything you’d like to bring to the table?” Yeojin pats her dear friend on the back of her hand to reign her back in. She’d hate to ruin the momentum they got going by having Kamile suddenly switch gears to argue with her mother.

Kamile is only too happy to tell her side of the story as she recounts the events of the night that she decided to leave Mingyu and how it was the tipping point for her. Yeojin listens intently, taking note of the fact that none of the issues that Kamile has with her husband are particularly heinous aside from the debunked cheating suspicions. Each transgression on it’s own wouldn’t be enough to end in divorce, but rather it’s the heaping pile of them that overwhelmed Kamile to the point that she felt she needed to get out.

The more she listens, the clearer it becomes to Yeojin that their marriage is suffering not because they don’t love one another but because they’ve forgotten how to talk to each other which has lead to an unfortunate disconnect. The biggest obstacle is definitely going to be Kamile’s determination to end things. She’s made up her mind and getting her to change her mind is not going to be easy.

“I think I’ve heard everything that I need to hear for today.” Yeojin sets her notepad down on her coffee table, relaxing in her chair a bit before she continues. “The first year in a marriage is usually the hardest, but that seems to have been exacerbated by the fact that the two of you have never lived together before now plus Kamile here has uprooted her entire life and moved to a new country.”

“Saving this marriage is going to take considerable effort on both sides in order to restore the balance you had before you said your vows. Here is what I recommend.”

Yeojin challenges the young couple to separate themselves from their daily lives for the next week and go somewhere remote. A place where it’s just the two of them without any outside influences. Of course, this won’t be just some run of the mill vacation. They’ll have “homework” of sorts that Yeojin will be checking to make sure they complete. Mingyu is all for it but Kamile is much more hesitant. All they’ve done is argue for the past few months and she’d rather not be stuck in a house arguing for two weeks straight.

“I’ve spent the past year stuck in a house with no outside influences and look at where that’s gotten me. On the verge of a fucking divorce!” Mingyu looks like he has something to say, but Yeojin thankfully stops him before he can rile his wife up any more than she already is.

“You’re not just going to be ‘stuck in a house’. Think of it like a game of Among Us. The two of you are crewmates and this wall that’s been built between you is the imposter.” Kamile looks at Yeojin as if she’s grown three extra heads. There’s no way she just related this counseling session to a freaking video game.

“I will also stop bugging you about grandkids for six months if you go.”

“You should’ve just started there. I’ll go.”

Yeojin claps her hands excitedly. She sounds way too happy to be shipping them off to self-guided marriage boot camp, but Kamile stays silent though that becomes increasingly difficult as her mother’s friends lists out the “tasks” she expects them to complete.

“So here’s the game plan, I want you two to be totally and completely honest with each other as much as possible for the entire time you’re gone. Often times in relationships, both parties will censor themselves as a way to keep the peace but that can be detrimental as it has been for you guys.” Mingyu and Kamile don’t realize it but they both frown simultaneously at the proposal of this honesty idea. Yeojin takes it as a positive sign that they are still in sync on some level.

“If the thought of doing it all day is too daunting, then start with just one hour. This doesn’t mean that you have to sit and stare at each other for a whole hour and trade statements just act normally but speak honestly. Okay so far?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Mingyu casts a glance in Kamile’s direction, fingers twitching with the urge to reach out to her. He’s had to stop himself several times since she arrived and it’s not getting any easier.

While Kamile’s mind is running wild with all of the potential for disaster that an hour of honesty could result in, Yeojin powers on with the rest of her required tasks. On top of separating themselves from society and this so called honest hour, Yeojin has mandated that they share at least one meal together every day with one of them being dinner on their wedding anniversary. Just when Kamile thought that Yeojin couldn’t possibly pile more on, she brings up the “activity days”. Each of them will have to plan some sort of activity for the two of them to do together while they’re away. It could be as big or as small as they want, but it has to be meaningful. Mingyu draws Kamile’s attention when he pulls his phone out of his back pocket to start tapping away on the screen like a mad man.

“You guys have a lot of preparing to do in order to be ready to leave tomorrow so we’ll stop here for today. I’ll be checking in on you daily to assess your progress and offer any guidance you may need.”

Kamile is out of her chair and halfway to the door before anyone can blink. The room suddenly feels too small as the gravity of what’s about to happen sinks in. She’d convinced herself that she no longer wanted to be married to Mingyu. She was so sure that her run as Mrs. Kim, albeit short as it was, had come to an end, but now she’s been confronted that her main reason for ending things was baseless. This is not how she thought things would go.

Day 1

The drive from the hotel to the home she’s shared with Mingyu for the past year goes way too quickly for Kamile’s liking. Mingyu had texted her about having to go gas up the rental car so he’s nowhere to be seen when Kamile arrives. She sits in the driveway for a few minutes thinking of the memories saturated into the home that looms before her. The memories she had hoped to create. A stray tear slips down her cheek and she swipes at it furiously. She swore that she was done shedding tears over this but they just keep on coming.

Her pity party is interrupted by an unfamiliar SUV pulling into the driveway behind her. Kamile looks in the mirror to see Mingyu getting out of the driver’s seat. She does her best to erase the evidence of her tears, but the look on his face when she opens her own door says that she wasn’t very successful.

“Are you-”

“I’m fine.” Kamile cuts him off before he can even finish his question. She stalks to the back of her car to start transferring her bags from her car to the behemoth of an SUV behind her.

“I’ll get them.” Mingyu takes the bag she’d already grabbed from Kamile’s hands, motioning to the passenger’s seat. Kamile, no longer in the mood to speak, wordlessly follows his directive and climbs into the SUV.

It takes Mingyu no time at all to load Kamile’s bags into the back with his own.

“Obviously this is a sign that we should just leave.”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m not about to let a lost set of keys stand between me and keeping my marriage.”

“Why do you even care? Why are we even doing this?” Kamile screams. She’s been holding this in for far too long and she can’t take it anymore.

“For better or for worse.” Mingyu’s face is a mask of carefully controlled fury and it’s giving Kamile pause. She’s never seen him like this before. “We promised each other for better or for worse and yet you’re ready to run for the hills at the first sign of trouble. I’ll admit that I’m not perfect and certainly played a role in why we’re here but I’m willing to put in the work to make it better because those vows meant something to me. I thought they meant something to you too.”

Kamile is incredibly taken aback at Mingyu’s fervent desire to stay married. She didn’t think that he cared that much anymore. Without any further protest, she joins him in the hunt for the elusive key to the front door. Fifteen minutes pass and they are no closer to gaining entry than they were when they first arrived. A rep with the rental company calls as they’re checking the bottom of the flower pots that line the front porch and tells them that the keys were mistakenly put in the mailbox. The same mailbox that sits at the end of the mile long driveway. Kamile makes to get back in the car to drive to the end of the driveway but Mingyu suggests walking it.

“It would be faster in the car.”

“You heard that therapist lady. We’re supposed to be spending time together. What better way to do it than by walking two miles?” Kamile walks back and forth as she considers her options. She can resist which will probably lead to yet another fight or she can just suck it up and walk to the mailbox. With a groan, she makes her decision.

“Fine, but if I get tired you’re carrying me.”

“Anything for you, my lady.” He bows deeply which almost makes Kamile crack a smile. She steels her resolve quickly though and reminds herself not to get caught up in his antics. He’s going to have to do a lot more than make her laugh in order to get out of the dog house.

The walk to the mailbox and back is quiet for the most part. Their footfalls join the hum of the wildlife in the woods that line the driveway on either side, but the jokes and playful jabs that used to fill the air between them is noticeably absent. Neither one is sure of what to say or do around the other anymore. Thankfully, the key is hanging on a hook inside the rather large mailbox.

Mingyu fully expected for Kamile to ask to be carried on the way back. She’s never been a huge fan of physical activity so it doesn’t come as a surprised to him when she starts whining halfway back to the cabin.

“I can’t do it just leave me here with my flower friends. I’ll become one with the forest.” Mingyu wordlessly moves to crouch down in front of her. He’s thankful that she can’t see his face to save himself the embarrassment of having to explain why he’s so excited to carry her for the last half mile to the end of the driveway.

Kamile doesn’t hesitate a single second to climb onto his back, clinging to him like a koala. It’s not lost on either one of them that this is the most physical contact they’ve had with each other in months. She’s wrapped around him tight enough that he doesn’t need to support her thighs, but he does it anyway. No way in hell is going to let this moment pass by without taking full advantage.

They opt to spend the rest of the day just getting settled in. Yeojin had encouraged them to share a bedroom but Kamile is not down with that. Mingyu is disappointed when she wheels her suitcase into one of the guest bedrooms but he takes solace in the fact that she’s chosen the one right across the master where he’d dropped his things hoping she’d follow. He hopes that at some point in the next few days she’ll finally share a bed with him again.

Dinner ends up being Thai takeout. Kamile has to admit that she’s impressed when Mingyu is able to rattle off her usual order with practiced ease. There once was a time when they’d get Thai food together all the time, but they’re so far removed from that time that she was sure he’d have forgotten by now. They eat without a single word exchanged before going their separate ways to bed.

Day 2

Mingyu wakes up before the sun despite the fact that he slept all of two hours the night before. His hands are on the verge of trembling from all of the nervous energy coursing through his body. Today is the official first day of marriage bootcamp and he doesn’t know what to do with himself. It’s barely seven so there’s no way that Kamile has even attempted to get out of bed yet. Like a thief in the night, Mingyu creeps down the hall to peek into the bedroom that she had claimed as her own. A small smile graces his face at the cute way she hugs one of the throw pillows to her chest. It falters a little when his brain reminds him that she used to hug him close to her like that and not a pillow, but he shoves that depressing thought away for now. He has work to do.

The smell of bacon rouses Kamile from sleep, luring her down the stairs. She grunts a greeting at the man currently tending to a pan of scrambled eggs as she reaches for the stack of bacon on the counter to his left. Mingyu is quick to swat her hand away before she can secure her bounty.

“The eggs are almost done. Be patient.” Kamile whines at being chastised, scowling at the back of Mingyu’s head with disdain.

In the midst of her grumbling, she finally takes notice of his attire or the lack thereof. Saliva pools in her mouth at the sight of his muscles flexing as he cooks the eggs. Her gaze moves lower to his trim waist and the pair of gray sweatpants hanging from said waist in a way that has no business being as attractive as it is. Her fingers twitch with the urge to slide her hands beneath the waistband of those sweatpants to get at that prize she knows is there but she keeps them to herself.

“Earth to Kamile.” Mingyu chants as he waves a spatula in front of her face. She blinks rapidly, doing her best to clear the thick fog of arousal from her mind. The uncomfortable sensation of her panties sticking to her skin is quickly forgotten when Mingyu holds up a plate peeled high with bacon, eggs, and blueberry pancakes.

“Thanks, Gyu.” Kamile murmurs as she takes the proffered plate and heads for the table. She falters half a step when she realizes that she’s let his nickname slip. She prays that he didn’t notice and if he did, she prays he doesn’t say anything about it.

“Gyu? Haven’t heard that one in a while.” Looks like that prayer went unanswered. The shit eating grin on Mingyu’s face makes her itch.

“I’m hungry and thankful. Don’t push it.”

They eat in silence. The only sounds are their forks as they make contact with their plates. Mingyu is kicking himself in the ass for not saying anything but his brain is short circuiting. Thankfully, the buzzing from the intercom by the front door signaling that someone is at the front gate. It’s the special grocery delivery he’d requested for the first of their planned activity days.

“What’s all this for?” Kamile asks curiously. She pokes through a few of the bags to see fresh strawberries and a variety of other fruits along with a very large bag of rice cakes.

“I was thinking we could have a picnic today for our first planned activity.” His heart races as he waits for Kamile’s reaction to his idea. She munches on a piece of bacon as she continues to pull things out of bags.

“I dig it.” Mingyu feels weak with relief at his idea being well-received. “Why so many rice cakes though?”

“You’ve been a tteokbeokki fiend since we met. Didn’t see the point in depriving you while we’re here if I could just make it for you.” Kamile groans at the thought. She’s more than capable of feeding her own addiction with the spicy rice cake dish, but she’s never been able to make it as good as Mingyu. Despite the fact that she just ate, she contemplating requesting that he make a batch of it right now.

Mingyu grabs a knife to start chopping up some of the fruit. Kamile takes a seat at the island across from him, propping her chin in her hand as she watches him work. She’s always loved watching him cook almost as much as eating the food he makes. She can’t even remember the last time that she was able to do this. It feels like a lifetime ago. Her eyes with sparkle with fascination watching him prepare the food for their picnic.

“Open up.” Mingyu holds a strawberry up to her lips and Kamile opens her mouth without hesitation. The berry is perfectly ripe and so juicy that a stream of it runs down her chin. Mingyu reaches out to swipe it away, licking the liquid from his thumb.

“Tasty.” Kamile squirms in her seat at the way his lips wrap around his thumb. Time for her to make an escape before she does something crazy like fuck her husband in someone else’s kitchen.

Mingyu watches Kamile hastily retreat with barely concealed glee. He’d thought that she’d stopped being attracted to him, but that is incorrect if the results of the little experiment he’d decided to conduct are to be believed. He smiles to himself as he continues cutting up fruit. There might be hope for them yet.

After agonizing longer than he should have over the best spot to set up their little picnic, Mingyu finally picks a spot. He’s so focused on how best to arrange everything on the blanket that he doesn’t even notice Kamile creeping up behind him. He nearly jumps out of his own skin when she clears her throat much to Kamile’s amusement.

“Did I scare you?” It’s clear to her that she did, but making him admit it is too good for her to pass up.

“No…maybe.” Kamile hums in response, kneeling across from him on the blanket. “That dress is really pretty on you.”

“Thank you.” She mumbles in response. It’s been so long since she’s heard any sort of praise or compliment from Mingyu that she doesn’t even know how to respond anymore. It almost feels brand new.

Eager to rid herself of the awkwardness blooming in her chest, Kamile grabs a fork and shoves what she thinks is a potato straight in her mouth. In her haste, she fails to realize that the potato she thought she had is actually an onion. Mingyu doubles over with laughter at the pure disgust painted across Kamile’s face. She desperately wants to spit it out but she was raised to believe that spitting out perfectly good food is only a half step below a sin so she powers through. She chugs one of the glasses of fresh squeezed lemonade on the small tray to her right as Mingyu continues to cackle at her plight.

“You set me up for failure.” Kamile has hated onions from the womb according to the stories her mother told about the smell of onions making her nauseous for her entire pregnancy. Mingyu must pay for this.

“I purposely cut them big enough for you to easily pick them out. You weren’t supposed to eat them.” Mingyu defends himself breathily as he tries desperately to stop laughing. Kamile reaches out to punch him in the arm which only serves to make him laugh harder.

Silence falls over them again although, unlike breakfast this morning, they’re able to exchange some small talk here and there. The awkwardness that they’d started off with wanes and wanes until they’re left comfortably enjoying each other’s presence for the first time in a long time.

Mingyu finds himself unable to take his eyes off of Kamile. He’d meant it when he’d said that the yellow sundress she’s wearing looked pretty on her. It compliments the rich mahogany of her skin as if it was made especially for her. The plethora of curls that he’s always loved are full of life as she bobs her head side to side, one of her many habits that Mingyu has always adored. His chest feels tight with the weight of his love for her. He can’t believe that he nearly let her slip away.

“You’re staring, Mingyu.” Kamile says between bites of the strawberry she’d grabbed. Mingyu opens his mouth to answer when a distant rumble beats him to the punch.

“Oh shit.”

The two of them hastily toss the near empty dishes back into the picnic basket. Dark clouds are steadily rolling in with the speed of a bullet train. Just when they think they might be able to make it back into the house, their luck runs out. The rain comes down in sheets, drenching them in seconds. Kamile is so thankful that the lack of pockets on her dress lead to her choosing to leave her phone inside.

Kamile is the worst mood when they finally reach the safety of the house. She just went through the stress and physical exhaustion of wash day two days ago and now she has to do it all over again five days ahead of schedule.

“Did you not check the fucking weather before you decided to turn us into sitting ducks outside?” She seethes. Mingyu arches a brow in confusion at her sudden mood swing.

“Of course I did. It was supposed to be nothing but sunshine all week.”

“Well, clearly that was a lie but I’ve grown to accept that from you. Now I’ve got to go suffer through wash day ahead of schedule.” Mingyu winces at her words, but he’s nothing if not an opportunist so he chooses to ignore it in favor of jumping on the more important statement Kamile just made.

“Can I help you with your hair?” He asks as he follows his grumpy wife up the staircase. She pauses outside her room to fix him with a glare.

“Absolutely not.”

“Why? I’ve always helped you with your hair.” In his mind, this isn’t a huge request. The Kamile he knew used to be only too happy to allow him to hand over her hair products for him to do her extensive wash day routine for her. He’d actually gotten so good at it that he’d even started doing her younger sisters’ hair whenever he was in the states to visit.

“I barely know who you are anymore and you expect me to let you touch my hair? Not a chance in hell.” Kamile’s voice climbs in volume until she’s practically yelling.

The last thing Mingyu wants to do today is fight, but enough is enough. Their screams echo through the spacious house as they go back and forth over Kamile’s mistrust of Mingyu. He doesn’t get it and she thinks it’s incredibly shocking that he doesn’t. Kamile’s phone rings somewhere in the bedroom she has yet to enter, effectively interrupting their spat. She leaves Mingyu in the hallway in favor of answering it and groans out loud when she sees that it’s a FaceTime call from Yeojin. She’d forgotten all about the daily check-ins that the therapist had mentioned she’d be conducting. She goes back out to the hallway and drags Mingyu with her to the staircase so they can get this call over with without ruining the carpet in her room.

“Hello, love birds! How’s everything going?” Yeojin chirps once the call connects. Her hopeful smile falters slightly when she sees the sour looks on her clients’ faces.

Mingyu is only too happy to give the attentive marriage counselor a full rundown of what was happening before she called. Kamile scowls at him the entire time. To hear him tell it, she’s the bad guy but anyone with common sense would’ve left her alone after she’d made it perfectly clear that she was not in the mood to have a conversation. She can’t wait for Yeojin to drag him therapeutically for not picking up on that.

“Kamile, what do you think lead to you lashing out like that? The rain was not his fault.” The woman in question is thrown off when the outcome she was expecting doesn’t come to fruition.

“He should’ve checked the weather before deciding to have a picnic outside but that’s neither here nor there. I feel like I made it very clear that I didn’t want to talk to him and yet he kept pressing the issue.” Kamile can’t believe that she has to defend herself. Mingyu is so hasty with responding that it sounds like a keyboard smash is coming out of his mouth.

“I would like to make it known that I did not say one word to you when we came back inside until you started yelling at me.” He looks incredibly smug as he watches Kamile’s mouth open and close as she tries to think of a way to refute his statement. “I would also like to make it known that I have been obsessive about every detail of this picnic and I would have never had it outside if there was even a slight chance that it might rain. Maybe if you had a little more faith in me you could see that.”

“And that brings me to my next point.” Yeojin begins. “We’ve established that the infidelity was a myth, so why do you continue to hold on to that mistrust, Kamile? I want you to really think about it and be completely honest with both us and yourself. I’m not saying that whatever you’re feeling is wrong because you are entitled to feel that way but I think it would be good for the both of you if why you feel that way is better understood.”

The theme of the day continues to be silence as Kamile ponders the question put before her. She’s mature enough to admit that not trusting Mingyu while also admitting that she believes him when he says that he didn’t cheat is contradictory. The root of that contradiction is something she’s been trying to avoid ever since she got roped into that surprise therapy session. Mingyu’s alleged infidelity had been her out. Her escape. She had cut and run on the back of a false truth and that reality is something that’s been hard for her to process. Tears well up in Kamile's eyes as she thinks back to Mingyu’s rant about their wedding vows when they’d first arrived. She’d thought that everything was his fault and being forced to face the truth is difficult. Mingyu’s harsh glare softens as he reaches out to wipe the tears from her face as they start to fall. He sighs when she pulls away from him.

“I can see that I’ve found a sore spot so I won’t press this any further today. We’ll revisit this in the future.” Yeojin gives them some tips on how to better communicate before she ends the call.

Kamile is only too happy to end the call so she can lock herself in her room. She doesn’t even come back out for dinner despite Mingyu all but begging outside of her door. He’s not sure what mental dots she connected when they were talking to Yeojin, but whatever it was seems to have upset her more than he’d originally thought.

A weather alert comes through on Mingyu’s phone as he watches TV downstairs. Apparently the storm that had snuck up on them earlier is part of a much larger system of severe weather that changed course and is expected to hang around the area for the next day or two. His first thought is Kamile. She’s terrified of thunderstorms. Always has been.

He thinks back to a time before they started dating when Kamile was just Vernon’s pretty American friend that he had a huge crush on. She had come to Korea to visit and insisted on sleeping on the couch despite the fact that everyone tried to give up their room for her. Much like today, a nasty storm rolled in and in her panicked state she had accidentally ended up in his room instead of Vernon’s. The realization had been comical and she’d tried to leave to go to the right room, but a sudden clap of thunder that seemed to shake the whole building sent her diving into his arms where she stayed for the rest of the night. She slept through a thunderstorm for the first time in her life that night. A selfish part of him hopes that this storm brings him the same luck he had all those years ago.

Day 3

Heavy rain beats against the window like a prize fighter while thunder rattles Kamile’s brain until she feels like screaming. There aren’t many things that strike true fear in her heart, but thunderstorms are definitely somewhere in the top five things on that list. She’s got her headphones in and her music blasting, but it does very little to drown out the war going on outside. She rips the blankets from her body and makes for the bedroom door to go get in bed with Mingyu but like the fifty other times she’s attempted to do that she stops herself in the hallway. The door shuts with a soft click as she seals herself back in her own personal hell.

Kamile jolts awake not even aware of when she had even managed to fall asleep. Sweat has glued her clothes to her skin and it’s making her skin crawl the longer she lays there. She groans aloud when she hears the rain still beating against the window pane. The alarm clock on the nightstand says that it’s just barely six in the morning which means it’s been exactly one hour since she apparently passed out from exhaustion. A rumble off in the distance lets her know that she probably won’t be getting more sleep any time soon so she drags herself to the bathroom for a shower.

Freshly showered and in desperate need of caffeine, Kamile makes for the kitchen. Mingyu’s bare back comes into view for the second consecutive morning when she rounds the corner. His hair is sticking up in odd directions and he looks to be five seconds from falling asleep standing up as he stabs at the buttons on the coffee maker.

“Why are you up so early?”

“You need coffee.” He replies with a yawn.

“Yeah, but I can make it myself. You didn’t need to lose sleep to make me coffee.” She protests. Mingyu turns to glare at her until Kamile raises her hands in surrender.

“If you’re up, I’m up.” Kamile shakes her head at him as she pulls two mugs out of the cabinet. No sense in arguing with him when he’s clearly made up his mind about suffering.

The two of them sit in silence side by side, sipping their coffee, and staring out the window watching Mother Nature do her thing. Out of habit, Kamile leans over to rest her head on MIngyu’s shoulder. She stiffens when she realizes what she’s doing. Mingyu holds his breath. Scared that if he makes any sudden movements the bubble will burst and she’ll move away from him. She surprises the both of them when she lets the tension drain from her shoulders instead, relaxing into him.

“I’m sorry.” Kamile whispers into the void. If Mingyu wasn’t so acutely focused on her every move, he probably wouldn’t have even heard it over the wind.

“Me too.” He turns his head to softly kiss the top of her head, taking a moment to inhale the familiar scent of her hair products. He never knew it was possible to miss a singular smell so much.

They’ve exchanged exactly four words since they sat down at the table, but they mean so much. There’s a near palpable shift in the air. Like a switch has flipped. An unspoken truce between them that they are in this together. Kamile lifts her head to finish her coffee and Mingyu immediately misses the weight of her head on his shoulder.

“Did you ever finish watching The Originals?” Kamile asks before downing the last of her coffee.

“No, it was kind of our thing so I haven’t watched it since we stopped watching it together.” She hums in response.

“Well, it looks like we’re going to be stuck in this house all day so we may as well pick up where we left off.” Mingyu nearly chokes on his coffee. He can’t even remember the last time Kamile willingly suggested that they spend time together. He pinches himself to make sure he’s not dreaming which she rolls her eyes at.

“Come on. You’re in charge of snacks.”

For the next eight hours, their butts are glued to the couch. They only get up to use the bathroom and replenish their snack pile. They’ve spent so much of their time arguing that Kamile had forgotten how much she loved just being with Mingyu. Klaus is about to rain down hellfire on some of his enemies when Mingyu’s phone vibrates in the pocket of his sweatpants. Kamile can feel it against her own thigh and it’s only then that she realizes the way that they’ve gravitated towards each other over the course of the day. If she were to get any closer to him, she’d be sitting in his lap. Mingyu had intended to ignore the call, thinking it might be someone from the company despite his strict instructions not to contact him, but he answers it instead when he sees that it’s Yeojin.

“Well don’t you two look cozy. I was planning to pick up where we left off yesterday, but I’d rather talk about this first.” Yeojin looks entirely too smug as she brings attention to the lack of space between the two of them. Mingyu half expects Kamile to scoot away from him now that it’s been pointed out just how close they are, but she stays put.

“Can’t a girl just sit next to her husband without being questioned to death?” Kamile asks playfully. Yeojin chuckles and moves on with their daily check in.

“Fine, fine I’ll leave it alone. Let’s get down to business. Mingyu we didn’t get to hear from you a lot yesterday so I’d like to get into how you felt when Kamile left. What was that like for you?” Yeojin rests her chin on her hand as she waits to see what’s going to come out of the box of emotions she just opened.

Mingyu briefly realizes that this is the first time he’s talked about that day to anyone as he recounts that dark morning like the nightmare it was. Kamile listens in stunned silence while he tells his story. After seeing the bags under his eyes at Yeojin’s house, she’d figured that he’d suffered just like she had, but she’d never imagined that waking up to find her rings and the note she’d left had affected him to the extent that it did. The guilt that’s been festering in her gut increases tenfold at the thought of him heaving into the toilet.

“I knew things weren’t the greatest but I truly did believe that we were strong enough to get through whatever. Divorce never crossed my mind even once so it killed me to know that it had not only crossed her mind but became a viable option that she ran with. I get why she thought that was the best option now, but then it felt like I’d been blindsided.” Mingyu explains. His words are laced with the hurt that he’s been keeping to himself. Kamile picks at the words screen printed down one of the legs of her sweatpants wishing that a hold would open beneath her and swallow her up. She’s never felt so low.

“Kamile, I see you’re getting emotional. What are you feeling right now?” Yeojin gently pries. Mingyu pulls Kamile into him as his own emotions start getting the better of him. Yeojin is pleased to note that, unlike yesterday, Kamile doesn’t snatch away from him.

“I was so focused on how unhappy I was that I didn’t consider anything else. It was all about me, me, me.” Kamile stares off into space as she opens up. She’s never talked about this with anyone but her best friends. In hindsight, they might not be sitting where they are right if she’d just talked to Mingyu about it ages ago but then again hindsight is always 20/20. “I visited Korea plenty of times when we were dating, but living here as the black wife of an idol has been so hard. Being from America, I’m used to people treating me different because of my skin color but when people feel entitled to be so invasive about it because of who I’m married to…it’s different.”

Mingyu’s jaw is on the floor as he listens to the struggles that his wife was having right under his nose and he never knew. He noticed that she’d become more withdrawn and hostile but he could never figure out why and she wouldn’t tell him when he asked. It comes as no surprise to him now that she stopped going outside. He can’t exactly blame her. Seventeen is going on their eighth year so Mingyu is a seasoned veteran at ignoring the things people say on the internet. Unfortunately, Kamile didn’t have that luxury. His stomach turns at the tales of her being approached on the street by people who wrongly called themselves fans thinking they were protecting him. The racist comments made about her online. She was suffering and he just let it go on thinking that she was just being moody.

“Do you think that caused you to develop a little resentment for Mingyu and his idol status?”

Kamile’s first instinct is to say no, but given that they are supposed to be as honest possible she tamps down the lie before it can slip out. She did resent that she’d fallen for someone with such great public notoriety sometimes. It was different when she was just one of Vernon’s childhood friends. The general public didn’t really care what she did from day to day, but now one wrong move turns her into a trending topic and she doesn’t know how to handle it. There are days that she wishes that Mingyu was just a normal person, but then they would have never met and that’s not a reality she truly wants to live in despite her feelings towards him when she walked out.

“Maybe a little bit but I know we’d have never met if he wasn’t Mingyu from Seventeen so it’s pointless really.”

They talk with Yeojin a little while longer before she has to go to her next appointment. The air between them is heavy with the weight of the secrets that have come to light. It’s a stifling atmosphere and it’s beginning to drive Kamile insane. She reaches for the remote to restart their show, but Mingyu takes it from her.

“Why didn’t you tell me what was going on?” His eyes are misty as he struggles to hold himself back from crying once more. He could kick himself for not doing his best to shield her from the people that had killed her spirit.

“You’re already so busy and the last thing I wanted to do was add to everything else on your plate.” Mingyu wants to scream. She means more to him than being an idol. She always has. He cups her face in his hands, pressing his forehead to hers.

“Promise me that you won’t hold stuff inside like that anymore and I promise to be better at not letting you. Deal?”

“Deal.” Kamile’s eyes flutter closed as Mingyu pulls away to press his lips to her forehead.

He clears his throat before grabbing the remote to resume their show. For the next few hours, conversation is limited to the messy lives of the supernatural beings on the screen before them. The wind still howls. The rain is unceasing. Yet in the little bubble of Netflix and snacks that they’ve created, it may as well not even exist.

Until bedtime that is.

“You know,” Mingyu says as they file up the stairs. The seemingly ever present bad weather still continues, “…you don’t have to sleep alone. I know you don’t like storms.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” It would be so easy to take him up on his offer. She could finally get some sleep, but for whatever reason she can’t bring herself to do it.

“Well you know where I am if you change your mind. Good night, Kamile.”

“Good night, Mingyu.”

Kamile stares at the ceiling in despair. She didn’t think it was possible for the storm to get worse but apparently Mother Nature took that as a challenge. She’s starting to genuinely concerned about whether or not the window by her bed can withstand the force of the weather it’s being forced to deal with. Kamile contemplates running to Mingyu’s room but shuts that idea down for the millionth time. Things feel...different between them after today’s call with Yeojin but she’s not sure if they’ve been different enough to justify hopping into bed with him quite yet.

“This is fine. I don’t need to sleep.” She whispers into the void.

She’s accepted her fate and made peace with it. Or at least that’s what she thought she’d done. A crack of lighting illuminates the room despite the blackout curtains over the window followed by a thunderous boom so loud it seems to vibrate her very being. Kamile is across the hall before she even has the time to process what she’s doing. Mingyu is out cold when she bursts into the room. Her brain chooses that moment to catch up to what she’s doing and flips on the switch of self-consciousness. Another loud boom has her throwing caution to the wind once more, sliding beneath the blanket to get as close to him as possible without waking him up.

Kamile lays next to him a trembling anxious mess as the storm rages on. She’s so consumed by her own fear that she doesn’t even notice the man next to her has roused from sleep until he’s wrapped both of his arms around her to pull her into his warm chest. It’s as if the environmental warfare outside ceases to exist the second Kamile’s cheek makes contact with Mingyu’s skin. His presence drowns everything out just like it did all those years ago. The sleep that had been evading her comes quickly in his embrace.

Day 4

A ray of sunlight shines perfectly through a crack in the curtain to hit Kamile square in the face. She squirms around trying to escape it and gets a frustrated groan in response. It’s then that she registers the weight of the arm that rests loosely across her midsection. The memory of running to Mingyu’s bed in the middle of the night comes rushing back to her. Her first instinct is to bolt, but she’s so touch starved that she finds herself turning in his hold in a bid to get closer.

“Good morning.” Mingyu grunts something in response that she’s sure he thought sounded like good morning.

He slots one of his legs between hers and unintentionally allows her to feel the morning wood barely contained by his boxer briefs. Mingyu’s even breathing indicates that he’s fallen back asleep. Kamile would love to do the same but all of her attention is laser focused on the hardened appendage intimately pressed against her upper thigh. A damp spot has already started forming in her panties. She needs to get out of this bed now. Kamile squirms and wiggles around trying to get away, but it would seem that her efforts are having the opposite effect. A throaty groan slips from Mingyu’s lips.

“Stop moving.” He mumbles still half asleep. Kamile does her best to stop fidgeting and focus her attention elsewhere, but it’s not working. Her inner muscles clench around nothing as thoughts of what Mingyu could do to her dance dangerously through her mind.

“I have to pee.” Mingyu cracks one eye open. It doesn’t take a genius to tell that he doesn’t believe her for a second but he releases her anyway. He sighs as he watches her run off to the en suite bathroom.

Mingyu is noticeably absent when Kamile emerges from the bathroom fresh off a rushed orgasm though hardly sated. She follows the scent of coffee downstairs to find Mingyu bent over digging through one of the crisper drawers in the refrigerator. Back before everything went to shit she would’ve slapped his ass with glee and run away before he could exact his revenge. Good times.

“Did you hear what I said?” Kamile was so focused on his ass that she hadn’t even registered the fact that Mingyu had said anything.

“Huh?”

“I said do you want to get in the hot tub later since we can go outside now?” He repeats as he hands over a cup of coffee already milky and sweet the way she likes it.

“It’s almost 80 degrees outside and you want to get in a hot tub?” She questions slowly to which Mingyu responds with an emphatic yes. “Be honest. Are you just trying to see me in a bikini?”

“Absolutely.” He giggles when Kamile reaches out to smack him on the arm. “Why are you attacking me? Yeojin said we have to be honest at all times.”

“I don’t think that included being a horny little shit.”

“I’m a man with eyes and a hot wife. I can’t help.” Despite the compliment, Kamile’s mood sours at his words. Mingyu’s freshly honed observation skills picks up on it immediately.

“Uh oh, did I say something wrong?”

“If I’m so hot, then why haven’t we had sex in four months? We used to go at it like rabbits and then one day you just stopped initiating things.”

Mingyu is quick to point out that he did try to have sex with her plenty of times, but she pushed him away. Eventually, he gave up. It’s almost funny when the dots start connecting in her head. Her personal struggles had originally been why she denied him sex, but then he’d started coming home doused in perfume so she really didn’t want anything to do with him then. Mingyu has never been a very pushy person so he figured he’d just wait her out. He didn’t think that he’d end up in a four month dry spell (and counting), but he was also not about to look for satisfaction outside of his marriage either.

“How about we save this sex talk until after I’m finished cooking? All of the blood in my body is rushing south and these rice cakes are starting to look like nipples.” Kamile nearly chokes on the water she’d just taken a sip of. Tears pour from her eyes as her body can’t decide if it wants to laugh or die of asphyxiation.

“Woah, woah! When we said till death do us part I was hoping we’d be farting dust not barely 26.” Kamile is sure that he wants her dead now as her internal war between laughing and choking only gets worse.

Despite her earlier protests, Kamile finds herself seated across from Mingyu in the hot tub later that evening as they watch the sun set. She fully expects him to try something from the way his eyes keep drifting south to stare at her chest, but he’s on his best behavior the entire time.

Day 5

“Hello, love birds! I missed you two yesterday. What happened?” Yeojin looks hesitant almost as if she’s scared of their answer. She looks downright relieved to hear that they missed her call because they fell asleep cuddling on the couch. After getting a run down of everything that’s happened since they last spoke, she encourages them to continue sleeping in the same bed together.

“Couples often downplay the amount of good that just being physically close to your partner can be. If you’re both comfortable sleeping next to each other without a thunderstorm being the driving force, please keep doing it.” Yeojin pleads before ending the call to go to her next appointment.

Her words hang in the air even after she’s gone. Mingyu looks over at Kamile with a questioning look on his face. It’s clear that he’s after her opinion on this whole shared bed situation, but Kamile doesn’t have much to say on the matter. The two of them have been pretty much inseparable during the day now, but she’s still nervous about sleeping in the same bed together and she doesn’t know how to shake that feeling. She was too scared to think about it last night but without the weather to distract her she’s not so sure if sit’s a good idea.

“What’s going on in there?” Mingyu taps a finger against Kamile’s temple to get her attention. She shakes her head but he’s got a feeling it’s about what Yeojin’s bed sharing idea.

“If this is about sharing a bed, don’t worry about. You’ve got the rest of the day to decide.” She nods in acknowledgement of his point but Mingyu can tell that the gears in her head are turning even faster than before. Her overthinking is going to give her a headache.

Night time comes entirely too quickly for Kamile’s liking. Mingyu has kept her so busy that she hasn’t had the time to sit down to sort through her thoughts. Knowing him, he probably did that on purpose. He always hated her habit of overthinking everything, preferring to live in the moment and make decisions as they arose. Kamile has never had much success doing that which is why they work so well together. He balances her out and helps her weed out the important aspects of the topic at hand to make faster decisions.

Her mind is racing as they climb the stairs on their way to bed. Mingyu stops at the door to his bedroom and looks at her with such hope on his face that she almost feels guilty for what she’s about to say. His face falls when Kamile tells him that she thinks it’s better for them to sleep in their own respective rooms tonight. Mingyu is a good sport about it, bidding her good night with a lingering kiss to her forehead.

Falling asleep has never been a problem for Mingyu which is why he’s utterly confused when he’s still wide awake three hours after getting into bed. He’s in danger of pulling the sheets off of the mattress on one side from how much he’s been tossing and turning.

This is bullshit. I’ve been sleeping fine every night. What’s the difference now?

Mingyu sits up to fluff his pillows. It doesn’t help. He kicks the ceiling fan up a notch. That doesn’t help either. He counts sheep, ducks, and even cows, but nothing is working. The longer he tries to avoid the obvious the more awake he seems to be. Sleeping in the guest room most nights to avoid arguing had taught him to sleep alone. Now that he knows what it’s like to hold her again, he’s ruined. He wonders briefly if Kamile is awake too. Is she just as restless too?

He tosses and turns for the better part of another hour. The clock on his phone says that 3 a.m is quickly approaching and Mingyu caves. It takes less than ten seconds to cross the hall to her room, but practicing his explanation as to why he’s in her room at ass o’clock in the morning takes much longer. He knocks twice and pokes his head in.

“Kam?”

“You can’t sleep either, huh?” She asks without even turning to look at the man poking his head into her bedroom.

Mingyu nearly collapses from sheer relief when Kamile simply reaches behind herself to lift the blankets after he confirms that he’s been unable to fall asleep just like her. He wastes no time sliding in behind her. Before he can even get it out of his mouth to ask, Kamile reaches back to find his arm, pulling it across her waist.

“Good night, Gyu.” Kamile whispers. Her words are slurred as if she’s already half asleep. Mingyu kisses her shoulder, letting his lips linger against her skin.

“Good night, Kam.”

Day 6

A feather light touch to her lower lip is what prompts Kamile to open her eyes long before she’s ready. She pulls back slightly once her vision clears and she realizes just how close Mingyu’s face is to her own. He even has the audacity to laugh at her surprise.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d wake up.” He’s not sure how long he’s been watching her sleep, but he’d do it for the rest of his days. The pesky organ in his chest skips a beat as he holds Kamile’s gaze like a lifeline. He mulls over his next words very carefully, preparing for a possible rejection just as he did when he came to her room in the middle of night. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please do.” She whispers into the inch of space that separates them.

Mingyu closed the gap slowly as if he’s giving her time to change her mind. Kamile sighs when his lips finally touch hers. One of his hands comes up to untie the silk scarf tied protectively around her head so that he can bury his hand in the curls he’s always been obsessed with. He uses his grip on her to guide her head as he deepens the kiss.

She rolls onto her back and pulls him with her so that his much larger frame nearly covers hers entirely. Mingyu lets his primal instincts take over. Too lost in the way her lips are moving against his own. A groan rattles his chest when she squirms beneath him until his hips are situated between her thighs. The thin fabric of their respective underwear are the only barriers separating his aching erection from the place she needs him most. He can’t resist the urge to grind himself against her. If his brain wasn’t so clouded in lust, he’d probably have the mental capacity to feel a little embarrassed at just how quickly he’s risen to full mast. Kamile is floating somewhere beyond cloud nine when Mingyu’s hand that had been cradling her head moves to lightly grip her throat instead while the other rhythmically squeezes and pushes at her ass in time with his thrusts. Her head is tipped back in ecstasy as he kisses along her jaw.

It takes a herculean effort that he wasn’t totally sure he was even capable of, but Mingyu separates himself from the panting woman in his arms. He rocks back on his heels and Kamile’s eyes are immediately drawn to the tantalizing bulge at the apex of his shapely thighs. She reaches for him but Mingyu grabs her wrist before she can get her hands on him. He lifts her hand to his lips, pressing kisses to the back of it.

“Trust me when I say that I would love nothing more than to ravage you right now but if I’m going to be inside you again, I want you to have my ring on your finger.” Kamile starts to speak but stops when Mingyu presses his index finger to her lips. He traces the outline of her kiss swollen lips almost as if he’s in a trance. “I don’t want you to make a decision that you’re not totally comfortable with just because you’re horny. I want you to really want it. I want you to really want us. Now get up so I can feed you.”

A vulgar comment about what she really wants him to feed her crosses Kamile’s mind as Mingyu playfully swats at her thighs to get her moving. She respects his resolve and keeps it to herself but only barely.

“It’s super nice outside. Wanna go for a walk?” Kamile would actually rather stay inside and enjoy the comforts of the air-conditioning, but Mingyu looks so excited that she finds herself giving in. She disappears upstairs to put on her sneakers mentally kicking herself for being so whipped for the man waiting for her by the patio door.

Mingyu laces his fingers between Kamile’s

They happen across a small stream during their casual stroll around the property. Kamile stops to look at Mingyu to see if he’s on the same wavelength as her.

“Let’s do it.”

Their shoes are abandoned under a tree near the creek before running full speed into the water. The cooler temperature of the water feels like heaven. Kamile squeals when Mingyu splashes her with water. Mingyu suddenly lifts her over his shoulder, using the hand that’s not holding on to her to splash Kamile with more water. She’s out of breath from laughing when he finally lets her down only to steal the rest of her breath away when he surprises her with a kiss.

“What was that for?” She’s slightly dazed both from the lack of oxygen and the searing kiss he’s just laid on her.

“Because.” He smirks at her before swooping in for yet another kiss.

“And that one?”

“Because part two.” Kamile giggles at his corniness even though she does her best not to give him the satisfaction of knowing it gets to her. Mingyu’s smile somehow gets even bigger at the sound of her laughter. He digs his fingers into his sides to prolong her laughter for his own enjoyment.

They spend a little longer frolicking around before finally heading back to the house to shower and start on dinner. Kamile unsuccessfully lobbies to shower together but Mingyu is adamant in his refusal. He’s positive that the self-control he exhibited earlier that morning used up all the restraint he could’ve ever hoped to have for the next six months. There’s no way he’d be able to deny her. He kisses her quickly before running off to his own bathroom.

Mingyu is totally and completely in love. He absentmindedly pushes his food around with his fork as he listens to Kamile rant about the mistreatment and near erasure of some X-Men character named Darwin. He’s got absolutely no idea what she’s talking about but she’s so passionate about it that he can’t help being fascinated.

“Darwin’s whole entire superpower was that he could adapt to anything and you mean to tell me that robots designed to adapt to and counteract the powers of mutants were built off of Mystique’s DNA? Absolutely not. I might be a little-” Her rant is cut short by her phone ringing on the kitchen counter where she’d left it. She grumbles about being interrupted as she gets up to go get it. It’s Yeojin.

Kamile returns to the table with her phone, choosing to sit in Mingyu’s lap for their daily check-in. The marriage counselor should get a kick out of that one. Sure enough, their seating arrangement is the first thing that Yeojin comments on. They take turns updating her on everything that’s occurred since they last spoke with her though they leave out some of the more sordid details.

“This is what I like to hear!” She exclaims with an excited clap of her hands. “It seems that everything is going well right now. Is there anything we haven’t talked about this week that one of you wants to go over? If not, I’m comfortable ending the call here.” They say their goodbyes after confirming that they feel like they’re in a good place right now. Yeojin makes them swear to call her the moment they think they need her but she doubts that she’ll be hearing from them until their follow-up appointment in a few days.

Kamile makes to get up to return to her own chair but Mingyu stops her. She shrugs and reaches across the table to grab her own bowl. He smiles to himself as she resumes the rant that she’d been in the middle of before Yeojin’s call. He still has no idea what she’s going on about but he’s content to just listen to her vent.

Day 7

Anxiety twisting her gut into knots is what eventually pulls Kamile from the bliss of sleep. Mingyu’s side of the bed is empty and she’s thankful for that to a certain extent. She heads for the shower, taking extra care with everything she does until she realizes how cowardly it is to stall like this. Deciding against putting on actual clothes, Kamile opts to just pull on one of oversized hoodies.

“Good morning!” Mingyu leans over to kiss her sweetly before turning back to the pan he’s tending to on the stove. He’s been doing that a lot since yesterday. Just randomly stealing kisses like he’s making up for lost time.

“Just so you don’t get freaked out when they show up, I’ve got a private chef coming to cook us dinner tonight.” Mingyu mentions as they sit down to eat breakfast. She’s pleasantly surprised that he’s put in so much thought into their anniversary even though he’s yet to directly mention the fact that today is their anniversary.

Today is their last day in their little safe haven away from the world and the status of their marriage is still technically up in the air. They both know that a decision needs to be made before they leave in the morning, but neither of them has brought it up. It’s like they’ve been tip toeing around the giant elephant in the room and expecting for it to just disappear on its own.

Other than Mingyu making tteokbeokki, extra spicy and extra cheesy just the way Kamile likes it, they don’t really do much throughout the day. A majority of their time is spent tangled in each other on the couch just talking. They reminisce on the days when they’d first started dating. Kamile nearly falls off of the couch in a fit of laughter at Mingyu’s spot on impression of Vernon’s face when he’d caught them sneaking a few kisses in the dorm kitchen one day. Each memory is sweeter than the last and Kamile is overcome with the urge to make more of those memories. Now that she’s been able to let go of the anger and misplaced resentment that had made her bitter, she actually has hope in that possibility.

The heels of the platform pumps she’d decided on for the night click with every step as Kamile slowly descends the staircase. She’s determined not to let her natural clumsiness send her to the hospital on such an important day. Mingyu holds his hand out to her when she reaches the last few steps. He looks every bit the international superstar that he’s known to be.

“You look absolutely stunning.” Warmth spreads across her face at the whispered compliment. She barely manages to return the favor. Kamile’s nerves are starting to get the better of her and she hopes and prays that there’s wine on the table so that she can drink them away.

Thankfully, Kamile notices a bottle of white wine chilling in an ice bucket next to the table when Mingyu leads her into the dim dining room. The dinner prepared by the chef looks delicious and she’s can’t wait to taste it but wine is her first priority if she expects to make it through dinner without bolting. Her first glass is tipped down her throat in record time much to Mingyu’s amusement. He refills without hesitation though she chooses to actually sip that one as intended.

Conversation flows easily between them as they eat. However, the topic that deserves their attention the most continues to stew on the back burner as they talk about literally anything else. As nervous as Kamile was when she first came downstairs, Mingyu is doubly so. He’s done his almighty best to convince Kamile that their marriage is worth saving without outright begging her. Based on the past few days, he’s incredibly hopeful that she’ll come back home with him tomorrow and stay there but she’s always been a wildcard. You never truly knew what move she was going to make until she made it. The small velvet box in his pocket feels like a stone. During a lull in the conversation, Mingyu makes his move.

“Kamile,” He reaches across the table to grab both of her hands, “Four years ago you agreed to be my girlfriend and I thought that surely that was the happiest day of my life but then you said yes to being my wife and I knew then that I was wrong. You’re the most precious part of my life and I was a fool for not making sure that you knew that every day for the last year.”

Mingyu pauses to get down on one knee next to Kamile, pulling the ring box from his pocket. Her ring is nestled in the tiny velvet box. It sparkles brilliantly even in the dim lighting. “Kamile Kim, will you do me the honor of staying my wife?”

Tears well up in Kamile’s eyes as she nods her head yes. She’d made countless lists and weighed her options, but in that moment she throws all of that logic to the wind. At the end of the day, Mingyu is the one. He always has been and he always will be. She can’t believe that she almost threw everything away over her own assumptions and insecurities. Mingyu doesn’t hesitate to slide the piece of jewelry onto her trembling hand when she holds it out to him. He stands, pulling her with him so that he can kiss her senseless.

“I’ve been waiting to say this until I knew where we stood but….happy anniversary, babe.”

“Happy anniversary, Gyu.” She whispers against his lips before kissing him deeply once more. “Now take me upstairs.”

“Your wish is my command, my lady.”

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