#arguing that THAT was not HER and that she was very different to space jam lola cuz she wasnt sexy enough lmao | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

toastedqueso · 3 years

Text

Thank Me Now

Pairing: Jaehyun x Original Female Character | Jaehyun x Female Reader

Other Members: Mark, Johnny, Doyoung

Genre: Fluff, Strangers to Lovers

Warnings: alcohol consumption, slight profanity

Words: 6.9k

Summary: Jaehyun thought teaching kids basketball would be a rewarding experience. What he didn’t expect is that he’d be rewarded with a friendship with someone who seems oddly familiar. With the help of his meddling friends, the friendship could maybe lead to something more along the lines of what Jaehyun wants.

A/N: This fic was really because I wanted to write some fluff and comedy. Also, Mark is Mark. I don’t know how this got so big. I thought this fic would be 2k max. There are some references to basketball, accounting and medical school. I don’t think you need to know much about basketball in order to read this fic, other than knowing that Michael Jordan and LeBron James are huge stars and some of the greatest players. They were both in Space Jam, but very different decades (1996 vs. 2021). We won’t argue who’s the GOAT though.Education notes (US-based): - CPA = Certified Public Accountant. To become a CPA you need to pass the CPA Exam (there are 4 parts that can be taken separately) + have the education requirements + fulfill the required work experience. - For the sake of simplicity for the education requirements, OC has a Masters in Accounting - MCAT = Medical College Admission Test. This is taken for Med School. Let me know if you think I should add notes on anything else!

When Jaehyun signed up to coach Basketball Camp for 6 year olds, he thought he’d have the rewarding experience of passing down his basketball skills. He thought he’d be like a Professor, passing down valuable basketball knowledge to the youth. He thought he’d inspire the future LeBron James or Steph Curry. What he didn’t expect was that he’d spend most of the time trying to find ways to keep their attention while he tried not to collapse from exhaustion.

Jaehyun blew his whistle and waved the kids over. “Put your basketball in the cart and make a circle around me!”

Jaehyun watched the kids put the basketballs away and gather around him. Guessing from the lack of noise and complaints, they were running out of energy too.

“Thank you for putting everything away. Good job, everyone!” Jaehyun remembered from his crash course in Youth Coaching that he needed to always thank the kids and congratulate them for doing well.

“There’s one last thing we need to do before you leave and that’s stretching!”

“Coach Jae! What’s stretching?”

“You’re going to find out! Stretching will help you grow big and tall like me!” Jaehyun lifted his arms above his head. “Now stand like me and reach up to the sun!”

The parents started piling in to pick up their kids as they went through the stretches. A few parents had their phones out taking pictures and videos to commemorate the athletic milestone for their kids. After they finished stretching, Jaehyun thanked everyone for working hard and reminded them to stay hydrated before dismissing class.

Some of the parents came around to thank him and his coaching partner, Mark, for teaching their kids and gushed about how excited they were for their kids to learn basketball. A few of the moms were a little too comfortable with him and patting his arm in between their conversation. He tried his best not to show how uncomfortable he was and played it off.

After most of the kids were picked up, Jaehyun noticed a little girl sitting patiently on the bench with her duffel bag

“Hey! Jamie, right? Can I sit next to you?”

“Sure Coach!” Jamie scooted over to make room for Jaehyun, though the whole bench was empty. She shoved an unopened packet of gummy bears in his face. “Do you want some of my gummy bears?”

“Sure! Thanks Jamie.” Jamie kept the packet shoved in his face, which he figured might mean she needed help with opening it. “Do you want me to open it for you?”

Jamie nodded her head. “Yes please!”

He grabbed the packet and tore off a corner before handing it back to her. She took a few gummy bears out and handed them to Jaehyun.

“Thanks Jamie!”

They sat together and enjoyed the gummy bears together. They ranked the flavors of the gummy bears and orange came out on top for both of them.

“Is your mom picking you up today?” Jaehyun didn’t want to sound like he wanted to get rid of her, but he was exhausted and starving.

“Nope! My big sister is picking me up! She’ll be here soon!” Jamie said excitedly.

Jaehyun nodded. Irresponsible teens, he thought to himself. He figured she was out hanging out with friends and conveniently forgot. “How about we call your sister. Do you know her number?”

“Yep!” Jamie gave Jaehyun her sister’s number and he called her. He figured she wouldn’t pick up, but after the fourth ring, she picked up.

“Who the hell is this?” A rather angry sounding girl shouted on the other line, followed by a slamming door.

Ugh. Not the teenage angst. Jaehyun grumbled, as if it wasn’t him only a handful of years ago.

“Hi! This is Jaehyun, Jamie’s basketball coach. I’m waiting with her on the bleachers. Are you on the way?”

“Yeah I’m here. Sorry about that. I was at a group study session,” Jamie’s sister huffed. “I’m walking over now.”

“Okay, I’ll let her know. See you soon.”

“Bye Jordan!” Jamie screamed, as Jaehyun hung up. A minute later, someone who definitely didn’t look sixteen ran over to them.

“Hey Jamie! Sorry I’m late!” She apologized. “Sorry for making you wait with her too...Jaehyun, right?”

She combed her fingers through her disheveled dark purple hair to tame it. She had on a washed out My Chemical Romance shirt and frayed jeans. She was not what he was expecting. She was hot and something about her felt familiar. He was hoping they hadn’t hooked up before and he conveniently forgot.

“Sorry! Shit!” Jordan cursed.

“You said a bad word!” Jamie gasped.

“Sorry! Don’t tell mom and dad!” Jordan rubbed her forehead.

“I’m so sorry I’m late. I know you’re mad and you have every right to be. I got caught up with my CPA exam prep study group. I totally won’t let that happen again,” Jordan rambled. She grabbed Jamie’s duffel bag and held out her right hand for Jamie to grab.

“Hey it’s alright. You can call me Jae.” Jaehyun extended his right hand. “Have we met before?”

Jordan glanced at his hand then up at Jaehyun. “Uh no? Was I supposed to?”

Jordan gave him a puzzled look. She seemed to be trying to match his face with a memory, but was coming up short.

“Oh. No, it’s just that you seem familiar.” Jordan squinted at him. She was either trying to recollect where they might know each other from or judging him even more.

“Sorry, I made it weird. Maybe it’s the hunger making me see things.” Jaehyun awkwardly laughed and rubbed his neck.

“It’s fine. We definitely should leave. Sorry to keep you waiting,” Jordan apologized again.

“Don’t worry about it. Are you picking up Jamie tomorrow?”

“Yep, everyday. Big sister privileges now that I’m back from college,” Jordan joked. She smiled at Jamie and held out a hand for her to hold. Jaehyun felt his heart swell at their sisterly interaction.

“Cool. I’ll text you tomorrow to remind you,” Jaehyun offered.

“Oh, you don’t have to!”

“It’s fine. I already have your number. I’ll text you so you know ‘who the hell’ the number belongs to,” Jaehyun said, referring to their phone call. He hoped Jordan wouldn’t be offended by his reference. Fortunately, she laughed.

“Alright, if you insist and think keeping track of 10 kids playing basketball isn’t keeping you busy enough.” Jordan smiled.

“Can we go now? I’m dying of hunger!” Jamie complained.

“Well that’s my cue to get out of here. Thanks for staying with Jamie. My parents would’ve killed me if anything happened to her.”

“Not a problem. She’s a sweet kid. She even shared her gummy bears. We love the orange ones, right Jamie?” Jaehyun held out a hand in front of Jamie and Jamie gave him a high five.

“That was sweet of you, Jamie! Sharing is caring, right?” Jordan complimented Jamie. Jamie smiled and nodded at her sister. Jaehyun could tell Jamie really looked up to Jordan.

“We’ve taken up enough of your time. Thanks for keeping Jamie company.”

“Of course. She’s a sweet kid. See you tomorrow!” Jaehyun waved.

Jordan and Jamie waved back and headed towards her car.

“I’ll text you!” Jaehyun added. Right after he said it, he realized how pathetic he sounded and felt his face heat up.

Jordan turned back and giggled. “Okay. And if you can remember where you know me from, let me know!”

Jaehyun nodded and laughed. He was really hoping it wasn’t a one night stand years ago.

‘Exhausted’ didn’t even explain how Jaehyun truly felt. He loved the kids. The kids were adorable and listened well, but had way too much energy. They definitely had bowls of sugar for breakfast because there was no way all of them still had energy to keep running around so much. Jaehyun was worn out and about to collapse and his coaching partner, Mark, wasn’t faring much better.

Jaehyun sighed and blew his whistle. “Alright everyone! Water break! Let’s sit in the shade and drink some water. We’ll start cooling down and cleaning up after that.”

Jaehyun picked up his phone and water bottle then joined the group under the tree shade. True to his word, Jaehyun texted Jordan that Jamie’s basketball camp was ending for the day in less than an hour.

“Who are you texting?” Mark peeked over his shoulder.

“Jamie’s sister,” Jaehyun replied, not looking up from his phone.

“Uh…” Mark gave him a stuttered response.

“She’s like my age,” Jaehyun explained. Mark looked back and forth between the kids and Jaehyun. Jaehyun could tell Mark was trying to make sense of it.

“Mark, don’t break your brain.” Jaehyun gave Mark’s head a slight shove.

Jaehyun’s phone buzzed with a text notification from Jordan and he unlocked to see her reply.

Jordan: Thanks Jae! I can’t wait to ditch my study group. Today has been kicking my ass 😭

Jaehyun frowned.

“Oooh she calls you Jae already?” Mark commented as he rested his chin on Jaehyun’s shoulder.

Jaehyun shoved Mark off. Jaehyun would’ve usually been nonchalant about it, but he didn’t want Mark to catch wind of anything.

“Oooh is Coach Jaehyun texting a girl?” One of the kids teased.

Mark cleared his throat. “Um. It’s a very natural thing to do, you know, like text a girl or um a guy or a person.”

Mark looked at Jaehyun to see his reaction at him trying to diffuse the situation. Jaehyun just shook his head and sighed.

“Okay, break’s over! Put your water bottles away. Grab a ball. We’re going to practice layups,” Jaehyun announced. Sometimes he felt like it was harder to manage Mark than the kids.

They continued their drills and finally the kids were showing signs of fatigue. The parents began to arrive when they started their cool down stretches, signalling the end of their day. He spotted Jordan saying hi to some of the parents before sitting by the benches.

Jaehyun gave his closing remarks for the day thanking the kids for working hard and telling them they would be future superstars like Lebron and Steph, which was met with a lot of cheers. Before they ended for the day, he had the kids huddle around him and Mark. On the count of 3 he had them shout “GO TEAM!” It was cheesy, but the kids were excited to scream at the top of their lungs so it was worth it.

The kids ran over to their parents, or sister, in Jamie’s case. Jaehyun waved at the departing kids and wanted to wait a few minutes before going over to say hi to Jordan, but he was bombarded by a few of the moms. While he uncomfortably kept up the conversation with them, he looked around to see if Jordan was still around. Fortunately, Jordan and Jamie were sitting on the bench eating gummy bears. Jaehyun excused himself from an overly friendly mom with the excuse that he had to head out soon. Jaehyun jogged over to where Jordan and Jamie were sitting.

“Do you have any orange gummy bears for me?” Jaehyun asked.

“Sorry. They’re all gone because you were too busy flirting with the moms,” Jordan quipped.

Jaehyun groaned. “Don’t rub it in! I thought they’d never let me go.”

Jordan laughed. “Oh don’t worry. I enjoyed hanging back and watching you squirm uncomfortably while they flirted with you.”

Jaehyun groaned. Usually he would’ve politely responded, but today all of his energy was zapped.

“Not to burst your ego, but Mrs. Murray’s like that to any man who breathes. You could try throwing your co-coach at her.” Jordan looked over at Mark.

As if sensing they were talking about him, Mark looked over and waved. He jogged over quickly to introduce himself.

“Hi I’m Mark! You’re…” Mark looked over at Jamie and back at Jordan. “OH! Ooooh. You’re THE sister!”

Jordan raised her eyebrow. “Yeah, sure am. I’m Jordan, Jamie’s big sister. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too!” Mark beamed. He looked over at Jaehyun and raised his brows. Jaehyun tried his best to ignore him. He did not need Jordan prying into whatever Mark was trying to convey to him.

“Did you hear that, Jamie? Jae said you’re going to be the future LeBron!” Jordan wrapped an arm around Jamie and brought her into a side hug.

“No, I’m LeBron!” Jamie replied.

Jaehyun smiled and nodded. “That’s right. You’re a champion like him.”

Jaehyun ruffled her hair. He was glad she had big dreams already, especially the kind he had set out to help mold by coaching basketball.

“NO! I AM LeBron!” Jamie emphasized every other word.

Jordan laughed at Jaehyun and Mark’s puzzled looks. “What she means is that she was named after LeBron James. ‘Jamie’ is from his last name.”

Mark’s eyes widened at the realization. “Woah, that's so smart.”

“Jamie…LeBron James.” Jaehyun smiled. “Nice. He’s my favorite player.”

Jaehyun high fived Jamie. If there’s anything he’d learned about her the past few days, it was that the kid loved high fives.

“That’s creative. Your parents must be basketball fans.”

“Yeah, huge fans. They named me after Michael Jordan,” Jordan added.

When he made the connection, Jaehyun burst out laughing. “Also my favorite player.”

Mark shot him a sly grin. Jaehyun had unfortunately forgotten Mark was there.

Jordan laughed and rolled her eyes. “Were you even alive when he played?”

“I was born in 97!” Jaehyun replied.

“So you don’t remember him at all,” Jordan pointed out.

“I’ve seen ‘Space Jam’!”

“Michael Jordan the actor doesn’t count!” Jordan argued.

“Okay, fine. But I’ve seen enough clips to know he’s great,” Jaehyun protested.

“Whatever. And here I thought you were cool. I even brought you a bag of gummy bears.” Jordan held up the bag.

Jaehyun stepped closer to grab the bag, but she pulled it closer to her.

“I can’t trust you with the basketball greats of tomorrow if you don’t know Michael Jordan!” Jordan hissed. “You don’t deserve these gummy bears!”

“I’ll do better next time. I promise,” Jaehyun pleaded.

Jamie and Mark giggled, but Jaehyun knew for very different reasons.

Jordan turned to Jamie. “What do you think, Jamie? Should we give Jae the gummy bears?”

“Yes!” Jamie shouted.

“You’re lucky she’s a nice kid.” Jordan handed over the gummy bears. “You better mean it the next time you say Michael Jordan is your favorite player.”

Jaehyun grabbed the gummy bears and turned to Jamie. “Thank you for letting me have this, Jamie! I’ll be sure to make Jordan proud, okay?”

Jamie nodded back in response. Jordan got up from the bench and picked up Jamie’s duffel bag.

“We better head out. We’re officially out of food and hungry,” Jordan announced. “See you tomorrow.”

Jordan and Jamie headed to the parking lot after bidding their farewells. Jaehyun and Mark walked back to the basketball courts to grab their stuff.

“Sooooooo,” Mark started, raising his eyebrows repeatedly.

“Shut up, Mark. Go home.” Jaehyun rolled his eyes and grabbed his duffel bag. He wanted to savor the gummy bears in peace without Mark hinting at their flirting.

Things started to fall into routine between Jaehyun and Jordan. They’d text back and forth and spend some time chatting when Jordan went to pick up Jamie. Jordan liked to hang back and watch Jaehyun awkwardly squirm while the moms flirted with him. She’d sometimes take pictures of Jaehyun’s awkwardness and send it to him. Fortunately he took it in good humor and texted back, “You literally could save me, but choose to watch me suffer 😭”

She sent him clips of Michael Jordan and said “Learn about the GOAT, you uncultured fool.”

To which Jaehyun replied, “You don’t need to educate me about my favorite actor!”

They continued their banter back and forth and weaved in conversations where they learned more about each other.

They learned that they were the same age and both recently graduated from college, though Jordan got her Masters in Accounting too as part of her CPA requirements. Jaehyun was planning to head to Medical school, so he took up coaching basketball as a break in between graduation and MCAT preparations.

After basketball camp ended everyday, Jordan would hand Jaehyun a bag of gummy bears. This quickly became their tradition. Unfortunately, so did Mark smirking at Jaehyun after he ripped open each bag.

They found out that they both had their own culinary talents. Jaehyun’s specialty was Korean food, while Jordan’s specialty was baking. They shared pictures of their creations and promised to share them in the future.

Jordan once sent him a picture of puffed up dough and texted, “Jamie said this proofed dough looks like you 😂”

Jaehyun replied, “I’m offended 😭”

Jordan texted back, “Don’t be! Proofed dough is cute 🥺”

Jaehyun blushed. He hoped she meant what she was insinuating and he was reading the signs right.

Jaehyun made it a point to teach kids about basketball greats other than the ones currently playing. On this particular day, he taught the kids about Michael Jordan. He made sure Jordan was there when he went through his talk. He showed them a Michael Jordan slam dunk compilation, which left the kids in awe. He wrapped his speech by telling all of them to watch “Space Jam” to watch more of his ‘awesome talent’. Jaehyun specifically turned to Jordan to watch her facepalm.

After Jaehyun broke from their huddle, he walked over to Jordan with Jamie in hand.

“Nice little presentation there,” Jordan commented.

“What can I say? I had the best teacher.” Jaehyun winked.

“Well, I’m afraid I have some bad news.” Jordan frowned.

Jaehyun gulped. His mind went racing about what it could be. She’d no longer show up to pick up Jamie? She didn’t want to see Jaehyun again?

“We ran out of gummy bears, so I have nothing for you,” Jordan announced.

“But Jordan, I’m hungry!” Jamie grabbed onto Jordan and whined.

Jordan sighed. “Can I make it up to you with some pizza?”

“Yeah! Yeah! Let’s go!” Jamie started dragging Jordan’s arm.

“Woah! Slow down! You’re going to pop my arm out!” Jordan grabbed Jamie and threw her onto her shoulder.

“Well, that’s my cue to leave. She’s getting borderline hangry now.” Jordan announced.

“I’m sure I’m not that far away from hangry either.” Jaehyun laughed.

“You’re welcome to join us.” Jordan put Jamie back down on the ground. “Right, Jamie?”

“Really?” Jamie jumped in excitement. “Please!”

“Hell yeah!” Mark popped in. Jaehyun mentally groaned. He’d forgotten Mark was still lurking around. “I mean, heck yeah!”

“I can drive. Probably the easiest option anyway,” Jordan suggested.

They grabbed their bags and followed Jamie to her car. Jaehyun was thankful Jamie had offered to drive to save him the effort of making excuses not to drive. He walked to work in an effort to enjoy the outdoors before it got too hot and, more importantly, it came down to buying food or gas and food won.

Once they reached Jamie’s car, a blue MINI Cooper, Jaehyun admired the car. It was adorable and really suited Jamie’s whole aesthetic. Jaehyun was interrupted by a shove to his shoulder. He turned around to find Mark smirking at him.

“You’re riding shotgun,” Mark commanded. “You know you want to.”

Mark gave Jaehyun another light shove and a thumbs up. Jaehyun closed his eyes and shook his head. He knew Mark had the best intentions, but subtlety was not his strong suit.

They piled into Jordan’s car and buckled up. Jordan handed Jaehyun the aux cord.

“I can trust you with this, right?” Jordan raised a brow.

Before Jaehyun could respond, Mark chimed in. “You definitely can trust my man, Jae. He has the best music taste. He’s a great singer too!”

Jaehyun could feel his ears burning. He threw Mark a look, who just smiled back at him.

“You sing? You never mentioned that! I definitely have to hear you some time,” Jordan said. “But for now, you have aux cord duties.”

She handed the aux cord over to Jaehyun. He connected it to his phone and opened Spotify. Most of his playlists were R&B Slow Jams and Mark probably wouldn’t let him hear the end of it if he played one of them. He decided Mariah Carey would be a safe choice and hit shuffle. Unfortunately for Jaehyun, “Touch My Body” came on. Even Mariah Carey wasn’t cooperating with him today.

“Oh I love this song!” Jordan shouted. “Okay you can have aux cord privileges in my car.”

Jaehyun sighed in relief. “Who doesn’t love Mariah? But don’t expect me to sing like her.”

“I’m sure you’re still great,” Jordan reassured.

“I hope pizza’s ok with you. You don’t have any specific gym bro macros this would conflict with?”

Jaehyun scrunched his eyebrows in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, your muscles.” Jordan pointed up and down at him. “Don’t think no one noticed with your arms out like that.”

“OH.” Jaehyun suddenly felt self conscious.

“Sorry, it’s not a bad thing. Definitely not.” Jordan smirked at Jaehyun. “You worked hard for your muscles, why not show off all the hard work?”

“If that’s what you want. I’ll show off more in front of you.” Jaehyun winked.

He flexed his biceps to make a point. Jordan laughed at his flexing. He liked how comfortable the two of them were with each other.

Jordan laughed and rolled her eyes. “Whatever. You’d do it for me, but all the moms would just eat you up.”

They continued bantering back and forth the rest of the ride while Mark kept Jamie entertained and kept a watchful eye on Jaehyun and Jordan. Mark repeatedly texted Jaehyun the eyes emoji, to which Jaehyun responded back with the eye rolling emoji. Mark was having too much fun sitting front and center to their flirting.

Once they arrived at Dani’s Pizza, Jaehyun offered to order, which Jordan initially declined. He refused to tell her his Venmo, but she argued there weren’t many people named “Jaehyun Jung” around and she had his number. They settled on Jordan covering next time, which was met by a smirk from Mark. Jaehyun fully intended on making Mark pay for this. Literally.

After ordering and grabbing their drinks, they grabbed a table by the window. They watched Mark and Jamie play thumb war, which Mark dramatically fake lost to appease Jamie. Jamie cheered and got a round of high fives from everyone.

“Look at you, champ! Basketball is making you so strong you almost broke Mark’s hand!” Jordan shook Jamie’s shoulders.

“Oh man! You’re like Hulk!” Jaehyun chimed in. He made Jamie flex and look angry like she had transformed into Hulk.

“Thank God she’s only fake breaking other people. When I was in 1st grade, some idiot stood in front of me while I was on the monkey bars. I accidentally kicked him in his mouth and knocked out 2 teeth.” Jordan cackled. Jaehyun went silent and froze hearing that. He was having flashbacks to his childhood.

Mark joined in on the laughter. “Wait for real?”

Jordan nodded. “Yeah. I told him to get out of the way, but he just stood there. I might have tried to shove him with my foot, but I accidentally kicked him instead.”

And then it clicked for Jaehyun - why he felt like he knew Jordan. He had sensed he might have known Jordan for more recent reasons, but it made sense that it would be because of something else that left an impression on him.

“Wait a second. Did you go to Eastwood Elementary?” Jaehyun interjected.

“Yeah, why?” Jordan cautiously replied.

“Oh my God! That’s why I felt like I knew you! You kicked my teeth in!”

“What?” Jordan and Mark shouted.

“Wait, hang on! I didn’t kick you! You were in my way! Why were you even just standing there?” Jordan retorted.

“My teeth were wobbling and I was trying to push it out with my tongue!”

“Well, then I helped you!”

Before they could argue any further, their pizzas arrived. They put their argument on hold and dug in quickly. They shifted their conversation to how basketball camp was going with Jamie filling in her excitement for the sport. Jordan gave them a few pointers on how to manage the kids, which Jaehyun and Mark appreciated. As adorable as the kids were, they were a handful and they knew they could get away with anything. Jaehyun noticed how attentive Jordan was to Jamie. Although Jordan was Jamie’s older sister, she was very maternal towards her. She made sure Jamie had enough to eat before she started eating. He could tell spending time with Jamie meant a lot to her.

After they finished eating, they piled back into Jordan’s car. Jordan insisted on driving them home and Mark invited himself over to Jaehyun’s so Jordan drove them to his place. Halfway through the ride, Jaehyun could feel the food coma and fatigue slowly overtaking him until Mark broke the silence.

“Man, I really can’t believe you kicked Jaehyun’s teeth in. What were the chances?” Mark asked.

Jaehyun laughed. “You know, now looking back on it, it’s pretty funny.”

“It was funny back then too. You were such a mess.” Jordan laughed. “Man, what were the odds?”

Jordan looked over at Jaehyun and smiled. Jaehyun smiled back. The odds of this happening had to be lower than getting struck by lightning, but he was glad this happened instead.

“You know, Jamie didn’t cry when she lost her first tooth,” Jordan said, diverting the attention to her sister. “That’s because you’re super powerful!”

“I am!” Jamie piped up.

“You’re really great with your sister,” Mark commented.

“Thanks Mark.” Jordan smiled at him through the rearview mirror. “I try to spend as much time as I can with her. She was born after I went off to college in New York so I only got to spend time with her during the holidays.”

“Wow all the way in New York? That must have been cool though,”

“It was! I was there for 5 years because I had to get my Masters in Accounting too to become a CPA. I moved back a couple of months ago and I’ve been preparing for the CPA exam and job hunting. I’m taking my first section in 3 weeks.”

“Dang, you’re hella smart!” Mark commented. Jordan laughed at Mark’s reaction.

“I know what you mean. I’m still on my post-graduation pre-MCAT break, but that’s ending soon. I’m studying for my MCAT this fall.” Jaehyun sighed.

“Enjoy the free time while you can. The MCAT is intense, but after a summer of teaching kids basketball, it’ll be a breeze,” Jordan encouraged.

“He’s getting great practice to be a dad too,” Mark quipped.

“Jamie, Coach Jae is great, isn’t he?” Mark questioned.

“Yeah! He’s the best!” Jamie agreed.

Jaehyun laughed awkwardly. “That’s because Jamie’s the best.”

He held out his hand in front of Jamie and she gave him a high five.

“I agree. Jamie did say yesterday that you were the best.” Jordan smiled at Jaehyun. His ears began to turn red at the compliment

“You both are great,” Jordan quickly added, turning to Mark. Mark turned to Jaehyun and gave him a knowing glance.

They soon arrived at Jaehyun’s parent’s house and bid their farewells.

“Bye Coach Jae! Bye Coach Mark” Jamie shouted as they got out.

“Bye Jamie! Remember to eat well, drink a lot of water and get lots of rest before tomorrow!” Jaehyun said more for Jordan’s sake. Jamie nodded.

“Thanks for the ride and having lunch with us,” Jaehyun said to Jordan.

“It was our pleasure. I still owe you lunch sometime,” Jordan replied.

“Anytime you want, I’m always down,” Jaehyun replied.

Jordan laughed. “See you later, Jae. Bye Mark.”

“See you!” Jaehyun replied. “I’ll text you!”

Jaehyun felt his ears burning right as he said it out loud. Jordan giggled, noticing his embarrassment. He was hoping the ground would crack open and swallow him, but even then he knew that Mark would find a way to rub it in.

“Cute,” Jordan commented. Jordan and Jamie waved one last time before they drove off.

When they were out of sight, Jaehyun walked up to the front door with Mark trailing behind him.

“Well, what can I say? I’m the best wingman!” Mark nudged.

“You didn’t do shit.” Jaehyun shoved Mark off and started unlocking the door.

“Really dude! I just sprinkled a little bit of magic and got things going.” Mark rubbed his fingers together, pretending to sprinkle things around. “She knocked you out already, don’t let her slip by.”

“Go home and shower. I don’t want to smell you anymore.” Jaehyun knew Mark was right, but he wasn’t going to let him have the satisfaction of being right.

“Hey! I…” Mark sniffed himself. “Okay you have a point. Well shit, I’m glad I’m not the one drooling over a student’s sister.”

“GO HOME, MARK!” Jaehyun slammed the door shut in Mark’s face. He flopped down on the couch and closed his eyes, hoping to get some rest, until he felt his phone buzz. He unlocked to see a new text from Mark.

Jordan: lol sorry i kicked your teeth in 😂 Jordan: if it makes you feel better, at least they grew in nice

With Jordan’s first CPA exam coming up in 3 weeks, Jordan and Jaehyun didn’t get to spent much time talking outside of texts and the quick greetings when she came to pick up Jaime. Jordan promised she’d follow through with their lunch deal after she was done with her first exam. Jaehyun jokingly demanded he be wined and dined at his favorite taco truck because she was making him wait. However, he reminded her she could take her time and her priority was the exam and he knew she’d do great.

To encourage Jordan, Jaehyun suggested they celebrate once she was done with her first exam. He whined that he’d have to buckle down soon and study 8 hours a day for months to prepare for the MCAT. Jordan empathized with Jaehyun. She offered to go bar hopping before he had to buckle down and reminded him they’d have to squeeze in an hour of karaoke because she still hadn’t heard him sing.

“It’ll be my turn to root for you!” Jordan said whenever Jaehyun whined about his upcoming studies. “You’ve helped me relax whenever I’ve been stressed out, it’s the least I can do.”

Even if basketball camp was ending soon, they both knew they built a strong enough friendship that they didn’t need to depend on that to be their opportunity to hang out.

On the morning of her exam he texted her a lengthy good luck message and reminded her they needed to celebrate once she was done. After the exam she said felt like she did well, but she was extremely exhausted and would need to take a raincheck on their celebration. Jaehyun was a little disappointed, but he understood. She’d been balancing studying for the exam, job hunting and making up for lost time with her sister that she needed a break.

Jaehyun was feeling a little anxious. Jordan hadn’t texted back since last night, but he was hoping she was enjoying her break. Jaehyun took a sip from his beer bottle to try to calm his nerves, but the stale taste did nothing. One of his friends, Johnny, bought a new mini grill and wanted to “break it in” so he invited some friends over for lunch. Fortunately, Johnny was always their designated griller so Jaehyun could camp out on the couch and watch Great British Bake Off. He was learning all about proofing dough and he had to admit, proofed dough was cute in a strange way.

Unlike Jaehyun, Doyoung hovered around Johnny and made sure the meat was cooked to the standard he deemed ‘perfect’. Jaehyun was watching Doyoung fight Johnny for the tongs, when his phone lit up with a text notification from Jordan. He unlocked his phone to see a series of messages from her apologizing again for being too tired to hangout the night before. She sent him a picture of a white fluffy poodle that reminded her of him. He disagreed and thought it resembled Queen Elizabeth instead. He would’ve been offended with the poodle comparison if she hadn’t added that the poodle was the cutest thing she’d seen all week. He could at least agree on that. The poodle was cute.

She also sent him a picture of her outfit of the day - a pastel peach floral pattern summer dress. He texted back “prettiest thing i’ve seen all week 😊”

Jordan quickly replied, “shameless 🙄”

Jaehyun smiled at her response.

“What’s got Jaehyun glued to his phone and smiling like that?” Johnny shouted from the kitchen.

As if on cue, Mark sat up straight and caught everyone’s attention.

“Not what, WHO,” Mark replied, wiggling his eyebrows.

Everyone stared at Mark and waited for him to continue. Jaehyun groaned. Jaehyun hadn’t expected anyone to notice him on his phone, not that he was being very stealthy.

“He has a thing with someone he met at the basketball camp we’re coaching.”

“Wait. You’re thirsting over a mom? I thought MILFs were Doyoung’s thing,” Johnny said.

“It was only that one time!” Doyoung punched Johnny in the arm.

“She’s not a mom. She’s a kid’s sister,” Jaehyun explained.

Johnny gave him a judgmental look.

“Don’t worry, we’re the same age,” Jaehyun clarified.

“Hmm still Doyoung’s type. She comes with a kid. No judgment though,” Johnny said.

Jaehyun rolled his eyes and sipped his beer. It tasted worse with each sip. He would’ve preferred a cocktail, but a) they were too lazy to mix drinks, and b) they went with the cheapest option - beer from Costco.

He turned back to his phone and noticed Jordan was typing a message. He anxiously waited for her message to appear. After a while she finally messaged, “I know you said you’re busy, but can I call you? It’s urgent.”

He quickly texted back “Sure”. Her message suddenly made him worried and he stepped out into the balcony for some privacy from his nosy friends.

Jaehyun picked up on the second ring. “Hey, what’s up? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m good. Really good,” Jordan said. Jaehyun hummed, encouraging her to continue.

“So the reason I’m calling you is because two months ago I applied for a job at PwC. I didn’t think too much about it and they were pretty slow with the interviews, but the recruiter just got back to me and they offered me a job! I’m officially employed!”

“That’s amazing! Congratulations!” Jaehyun exclaimed.

“Thank you! God! I feel so relieved!” Jordan confessed. “I’ve been so worried, but everything is working out.”

“Hey, I know this is really short notice, but let’s celebrate?”

“I wish I could, but I’m babysitting my sister,” Jordan groaned.

“That’s okay, we can celebrate with Jamie. She’s a part of us,” Jaehyun blurted out. Jamie had become a constant presence around them, so it only seemed right that she would be included in the celebration.

Jordan laughed. “Okay sounds like a plan. I’ll text you my address.”

Jaehyun went back into the apartment and announced he was leaving. Doyoung scoffed.

“We haven’t even finished cooking yet,” Doyoung complained.

“Here, have some meat.” Johnny held up a piece of Bulgogi for Jaehyun.

Jaehyun took a quick detour to the kitchen and let Johnny feed him a few pieces of Bulgogi. While Johnny fed him, Doyoung told him to wait. He opened a kitchen drawer and pulled out a pack of gum and a toothpick.

“I don’t know what you’re getting up to, but I’m sure you’re going to need this.” Doyoung handed him the gum and toothpick and shooed him away. “Now go away.”

“Hey! Hold on!” Johnny raced into his room. Johnny was taking a bit of time to get whatever he needed to and Jaehyun was growing impatient.

“Can you hurry up? My Uber is going to be here soon!” Jaehyun shouted.

“So impatient!” Johnny shouted back from his room. He finally rushed out and slammed a few condom packets in Jaehyun. “You know, just in case. Be safe.”

“Oh my God,” Jaehyun groaned. “Her little sister is going to be there.”

“And? Have her play Minecraft or something. Doyoung could probably give you tips,” Johnny jokingly suggested. He turned to see Doyoung fuming.

“I’m going to kill you, Johnny!” Doyoung pointed the meat tongs at Johnny, trying to intimidate him.

“I’d love to break this up, but my Uber is here.” Jaehyun shoved everything in his hands into his pockets, including the condoms. Regardless of whether he’d need them now or not, he wasn’t planning to return them to Johnny. Jaehyun stepped into his shoes and opened the door.

“Tell Jordan and Jamie I said hi!” Mark yelled as the door slammed shut.

Jaehyun raced down the stairs and found his Uber waiting in front of the apartment building. He hopped in and texted Jordan that he’d be over in 15 minutes. He shoved 3 pieces of gum in his mouth, hoping it would be enough to make his mouth minty fresh. He arrived a couple of minutes earlier and wanted to admire the house and garden, but he needed the time to calm down before he rang her doorbell. The two of them had been dancing around each other for so long and he knew now was the right time to finally cut to the chase.

He rang the doorbell and let out a sigh. He heard footsteps rushing to the door and held his breath. When the door swung open, Jordan was standing in front of him in her peach floral summer dress. She looked even better in person.

“Hey!” She greeted him.

Jaehyun stepped forward and held her hand. “You look absolutely beautiful.”

He let go of her hand and cupped her face. He looked into her eyes sensing they both wanted the same thing. He bent forward and met her lips. She seemed to be caught a little off guard at first, but soon responded to his kiss. She slid her hands up his chest and wrapped them around his neck and hair to pull him closer. The kiss started off soft and slowly deepened. She lightly brushed her tongue against his lower lip and he easily granted her permission to move further. She tasted like sweet strawberry and he mentally thanked Doyoung for giving him the gum.

They broke apart after a while to catch their breath. They both looked at each other’s flushed faces and giggled.

“Well, that was something,” Jordan said. “Your front teeth grew in nice thanks to me.”

Jaehyun and Jordan laughed at the memory from their childhood. Jaehyun reached out and held both of her hands.

“Sorry, that was so sudden. I’ve been wanting to kiss you for a while,” Jaehyun apologized.

“Me too.”

“You too?” Jaehyun let out an exasperated sigh. “So, we’ve just been tiptoeing around each other for weeks?”

“No offense but you were sweaty 100% of the time I saw you. That’s a hard pass for me.” Jordan grimaced.

Jaehyun made a mental note to thank Doyoung for the gum later. At least a lot more level headed than he was.

“I’m doing this out of order, but can I take you out to dinner? Like a date. We can go karaoke too. I’ll finally sing for you,” Jaehyun suggested.

Jordan’s face lit up. “Yes, absolutely. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to ask you too.”

“Are you free tonight?” Jaehyun asked.

Jordan laughed and kissed his left cheek.

“Was that a little too desperate?” Jaehyun gave her an uncertain smile, causing his dimples to deepen.

“You know, you’re the cutest when you smile like that with your dimples,” Jordan cooed.

“I was wondering when you’d talk about my dimples,” Jaehyun confessed.

“Narcissistic, much?” Jordan pinched his cheeks. “I’ve been wanting to do that for so long!”

“Now you’re being mean!” Jaehyun pouted.

Jordan dropped her hands to his chest and ran them down his abs, sending a shiver down his spine.

“These muscles don’t fool me. You’re a baby.”

Jaehyun suddenly felt self conscious realizing the front door was still wide open during broad daylight for all her neighbors to see them.

“We could, you know, go inside and get some privacy.” Jaehyun tilted his head inside. He kicked his shoes off and walked Jordan slowly further inside. As if on cue, Jamie came rushing downstairs and grabbed onto their legs. They quickly moved apart before Jamie noticed what they were doing.

“Well, dating me would mean a lot of interruptions from this one too.” Jamie sighed. “We’ll have to finish where we left off some other time.”

“I don’t see how that’s a bad thing. Jamie’s the coolest!” Jaehyun bent down and picked Jamie up. He gave Jamie a high five and noticed Jordan smiling fondly at the two of them.

“Don’t you remember? Mark said I’d make a great dad.”

#jaehyun #jaehyun fanfic #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun scenarios #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct fanfic #fluff #comedy #strangers to lovers #jaehyun fic #nct fic

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heloisedaphnebrightmore · 3 years

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Open your eyes [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

Title: Open your eyes Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Female!Reader Word count: 5.8k Published: 23 May 2021 Author: Heloise Daphne Brightmore Notes: My first Bucky fic, so go easy on me :D Warnings: Stabbing, shooting, injury, typical avengers stuff Summary: It’s been over two years since you met Bucky and slowly but steadily you grew closer to each other to the point where you started developing feelings for him. It seemed you were on the right path to maybe establish more than a friendship, but that was until he decided to push you away without an explanation.

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You were running across the metal bridge of the submarine, trying to get to the engine room when you caught sight of a Hydra agent. You could have left him; you could have shot him. Either way you could have just followed the order you have been given and head to the engine room. But it was boring and at times you found recklessness more fun than to just follow orders that didn't satisfy your playful needs. As though you were a cat, you jumped from the bridge lending on the lower level, barely causing any sound that would be out of the ordinary. A proud smile appeared on your face as you sneaked up behind the man and tapped his shoulder. He turned around in a quick movement, gun pointing right at your chest.

"Well, hello pretty boy," you smirked, your tone inviting and flirtatious, causing the man to smile at you as though he lost focus of his mission. "It's a shame that you have to leave so soon," you chuckled, a devilish tone to your voice. His eyes widened as you grabbed his gun, pointed it upwards and stabbed your knife into his flash, a silent scream escaping his lips, before his body landed on the floor.

"Is this really necessary," Bucky appeared on the deck above you, jumping down to your level as he rolled his eyes.

"Is the big Bucky Barnes jealous?" You snickered. You knew he would never admit it, but you were more than just a fellow colleague of some sort.

"No?" He replied, though it was more of a question than a stern statement. "I just don't think all these little games of yours are unnecessary," he added quickly, trying to change the subject as he always did.

"Come on, Barnes, let me have fun," you groaned. "I like to play with my toys," you offered him a mischievous smile as you stepped closer to him, your chest flush against his. You felt his heartbeat quicken, his breathing turning shallow as your lips grazed across his. His light blue eyes usually held kindness behind them, but as a darker shade took over, you could feel his lust surface. "You could be one of them if you didn't play hard to get," you bit on your bottom lip as you jabbed your knife under his arm right into the man's stomach behind him. "I would treat you better though," you chuckled as you stepped back, swiftly pulling your knife out of the man. Bucky looked over his shoulder, his attacker lying across the metal floor. "You're welcome," you winked at him as he shook his head and rolled his eyes, but you didn't miss the tiny smile in the corner of his lips and the barely visible pink tint spreading across his cheeks.

"You know you could do all this without being too dramatic, right?" He asked, heaving a heavy sigh.

"What would be the fun in that?" You laughed, leaving the man behind, and heading towards the engine room.

It took you a couple of bruises and scrapes to get through the heavily protected area, but with Bucky's help you finally found yourself surrounded by the submarine's engines. "We are here, what now?" Holding onto your earpiece, you waited for a reply from someone who understood physics more than you did.

"There are two wheels, one on each engine," you heard Tony's voice and you started looking for the objects, walking around the gigantic metal machines surrounding you. "They look like circles," he added, earning a loud groan from you.

"Just because I don't understand engines, it doesn't mean I'm stupid, old man," you huffed, a silent chuckle leaving Bucky's lungs. "Do you think something's funny?" Your head shot back around; a deadly gaze directed at the man.

"Considering you have walked past the wheels twice already—" he snickered without finishing his sentence as he watched your face turn confused before a sharp exhale left your lungs.

"I hate both of you," you groaned as you stomped back towards one of the wheels, whilst Bucky grabbed the other one. As hard as you tried, yours didn't even move an inch, and whilst Bucky had his vibranium arm, even he was struggling with the jammed object. "You can barely turn it with your god-like powers, how am I supposed to move it?" You huffed as you watched him struggle. "Can't we just blow it up?" You asked somewhat trying to joke around, but partially being serious.

"No!" You heard Rogers' panicked voice. "No smashing, no blowing, nothing that could cause bigger damage," he instructed you in a firm tone.

"Fine!" You huffed. "You are boring," whining, you finally concentrated back on the wheels, but it didn't want to budge.

"Move," Bucky said as he stepped beside you and peeled your hands off the wheel.

"What a gentleman," you snickered, placing a hand on his shoulder. "There are a couple of other things in my room you could help out with," you chuckled as a loud, throaty groan left his lungs. It was a mystery if the sound was caused by your words, the hard work he was putting into moving the wheel or both for that matter. But either way, you loved riling him up.

"We are good," Bucky spoke in his earpiece as the submarine started moving again, causing you to unsteadily stumble back, before Bucky wrapped his arm around your waist and caught you. His gaze fell on you, watching you intensely, almost as though he was studying you. "Why are you doing this?"

"I'm not sure what you mean," you replied with an innocent expression. "As far as I'm concerned you are the one holding me," your gaze turned to his arm, still wrapped around you strongly. As much as you wished to smile, you had to stop your facial muscles from forming a smile and giving you away. He quickly let go of you and heaved a heavy sigh.

"There's always a double meaning to your sentences, always telling me suggestive things, always flirting with me," he exhaled sharply.

"I thought I made myself very obvious," you chuckled, trying to mask how awkward you felt having to say what you felt out loud. "I like you, Barnes," his eyes widened at your words, but he quickly composed himself, as though a part of him already knew it.

"You can't keep thinking about things like this when we are busy trying to just survive missions after missions," his tone was commanding as if he was telling you to stop your feelings at all costs, but his gaze seemed different. It was soft and caring, the complete opposite of his words.

"The world is always in a war, it's inevitable. And even if I tried, I would not be able to just put a stop to my feelings. You know damn well that's not how it works," you scoffed.

"Well, you have to learn then. I'm over 100 years old, I could be your grandfather," he argued, earning a deep frown from you.

"James Buchanan Barnes, are you trying to make up excuses?" You asked as you folded your arms in front of your chest. "Because it sounds like you are trying to convince yourself why you shouldn't have feelings for me."

"I don't have time for this little game of yours," he replied sternly as he started heading back to the control room. You pulled a face, grimacing at the man, sulking in a child-like manner. "Just because I don't see you, it doesn't mean I don't know about the faces you make," he let out a silent chuckle, earning a confused look from you.

"God, you freak me out sometimes," you huffed as you followed in his steps.

"Can you two please stop flirting and get back?" Stark spoke up in your earpiece, earning an annoyed huff from you. Silently, you both headed to the upper deck to meet the rest of the crew, finally getting rid of Hydra on the ship, and stopping them from taking over the submarine.

It took another 5 hours for you to get back to the compound, but when you finally did, you dropped down on the couch in the lounge, exhaling deeply, feeling your body relax on the soft sofa.

"Some space would be nice," Natasha spoke standing beside the couch with a small smile and a questioningly raised brow.

"Just so you see how generous I can be," you smirked proudly and sat up, offering her the other side of the sofa.

"Very much so," she chuckled, but it quickly died down as Tony asked for your attention.

As usual, he talked about the efficiency and effectiveness of the mission and team performance and by the time he finished you were about to take a nap on Natasha's shoulder, drifting into a short slumber. But you couldn't sleep just yet as you felt her shoulder move, silently shaking you awake. You offered her a deadly gaze, before you realised everyone was already gone.

"Oh, we're done?" You asked as you looked around and stretched your back, standing up from the sofa. Natasha nodded in response and ushered you to head to your room, suggesting you didn't look too well which earned a grimace from you.

You attempted to rest and try to finally have a good night sleep, but unfortunately after hours of rolling and groaning you gave in. However you tried, you just couldn't get yourself to sleep and it left you frustrated. You wished to be able to control your mind and forget about certain things whenever you wanted, but unfortunately you couldn't do that, and it always left you with one particular person on your mind.

James Buchanan Barnes.

You were wary of him at the beginning, he was the Winter soldier after all, and you have heard and seen what he was capable of. But the trust Steve put in his friend pushed you to give him a chance too and you never regretted it. When you finally got closer to him and he opened up to you, talking about his past, you couldn't possibly imagine how he could keep himself in one piece. The pain, the trauma, the memories that haunted him scared you, even though you weren't the one living them all over again.

But somewhere along the line, you fell for him. You tried to spend more time with him and at first, he seemed interested, you were there for each other whenever in need, but something has changed. That night played in your head over and over again, hoping to understand what went wrong, but you couldn't find the solution.

You were seated on his bed, leaning against the headboard as he placed his head on your lap. Caressing his hair gently, playing with his long locks always soothed his worries and you hoped he would feel better. Sometimes you weren't sure how to make him feel better, so you did what you always did, listened to him.

"I— I can just hear their screams, the last terrified look in their eyes, the realisation that— that they are about to die," his voice was shaking as he stumbled across his words. You ran your fingers across his hair, removing the escaped locks from his face. "All these memories are coming back, and I just— I just don't know what to do," a heavy sigh left his lungs, as though trying to get rid of all the horrible memories.

"It's not your fault, you are not responsible for it. You weren't in your right mind, Bucky, they were controlling you" you tried to sooth his worries, but it didn't seem to work. He shook his head, another throaty sigh escaping his lips.

"But it was me. Regardless of not being in control of my own mind and body, it was still me," he groaned as sat up, looking into your eyes. Placing a hand on his cheek, you caressed his stubbly face, hoping it would calm him down. He tilted his head into your palm, enjoying the feel of your warm touch, but then he turned away and abruptly stood up.

"Hey, are you okay?" You asked as you stood up from the bed and walked up behind him, placing your hands on each of his shoulders, squeezing them reassuringly.

"I think you should leave," he spoke, but his gaze didn't meet yours again. He avoided looking at you and even though you wanted to object, you understood he needed space.

However, that space was standing between you for the past 3 months. You were understanding and supportive, knowing of his past it was inevitable that he needed to think things through, but you were tired of waiting. It's been 2 years since you fell for the man and it didn't help that he was always close to you physically, but never enough to be able to touch him mentally. You knew he wasn't indifferent towards you, there was an invisible connection between the two of you, but he clearly avoided you and paused whatever was going on before he decided to keep his distance. You tried to keep your cool and act as though it didn't affect you, but as time passed, it started to become hard to put on a brave face.

Shaking your head, trying to get rid of your thoughts, you jumped out from your bed. Attempting to cool yourself down, you headed to the kitchen to grab something to drink, your throat feeling as though it was covered in cotton.

"Can't sleep?" Rogers' spoke as he stepped inside the kitchen, watching you take out a bottle of water from the fridge.

"Not really. I'm guessing you are struggling too," you raised a brow, earning a nod from the man.

"I'm glad we can't sleep. I meant to talk to you," he spoke as you took a quick chug of your water, a questioning expression painted across your face.

"What about?" You asked with a deep frown. It wasn't often that Steve and you had anything to talk about unless it was to do with a mission. "If you plan to scold me for my behaviour today, just save it," you added, already prepared for his nagging.

"Actually, it's not about that. It's more of a personal matter," he replied as he took a seat at the dining table, pulling out the chair beside him to offer you a place to sit. You furrowed at the subject matter; personal subjects weren't your thing after all.

"What did I do?" You asked cautiously, earning a silent chuckle from Steve.

"Nothing, I just wanted to talk to you about Bucky," he spoke as your eyes widened in surprise. "I'm not blind, none of us are and your little conversation today didn't go unnoticed," he pointed at his ear. You felt your cheeks warm up as you realised, they have all heard your confession. Scrunching your nose, you awkwardly cleared your throat and whispered an apology. "No, no, don't apologise, please, it's fine. But it made me want to talk to you even more."

"I know you are Bucky's best friend, but I don't think we should have this discussion," you chuckled awkwardly, uncertain of how to react.

"I agree and I don't want to go into details. He is a very good friend of mine and it's not my place to talk about him with you, but I thought it would be important to tell you that since you have been around, he has changed. I know he doesn't show it well, but he cares for you. He just needs time to understand himself and you and the situation you are in," he explained with a soft smile.

"Do you think I don't know? I see how he looks at me, I see how he behaves around me. The little things that he does whenever I'm in need of help. But I can't possibly do anything when your friend makes up the stupidest excuses to suppress his feelings and pushes me away," you shook your head in response.

"Just give him time. He will come around. There's a limit to how long he can lie to himself," he attempted to encourage you.

"Look, I can't possibly understand what he has been through, but I can only hope he gets it together, because I'm running out of options," you pursed your lips in a humorous manner to lighten the mood as you stood up from your chair. "Two years, it's been two years, Cap," you chuckled darkly. "At this point, even a rejection is better than tiptoeing around our situation."

"Yes, I understand," he offered you a consoling smile. "Go, try to take some rest."

"Well, I wish I could," you smiled as you headed towards the exit. "Have a good night, Cap."

Another week passed and there was no progress in your situation. You caught Bucky's eyes on you, but each time your gaze met, he abruptly turned away. It felt as though you had tried everything to get close to him once again, but the man was stubborn and you were out of ideas. You were on the verge of giving up. Wanting to talk to him, you headed towards his room to tell him that you were done, and you understood that you were probably seeing things and maybe misinterpreting your situation, but before you could have reached his room, Stark stopped you.

"I need you," he said, grabbing your arm and fairly forcefully dragged you across the compound.

"You know, I could just follow you, right?" You asked with a deep frown as he finally let go of your arm and you continued in his steps, heading to the lounge.

As you arrived, Nat and Steve were already seated on a couch, whilst Barton sat at the table, waiting for Tony and you. Before you could even take a seat, Stark has already started explaining your mission against another Hydra hideout. According to his resources and F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s intel, it seemed it was only a small warehouse where they exchanged weapons and since the mission was a rather small one, not all Avengers were needed.

Within an hour you have already discussed the tactics and you were on your way to the warehouse not far from Texas. Taking an old S.H.I.E.L.D. jet that Tony tweaked up, you have arrived at the abandoned area within a couple of hours. Steve and Nat went straight for the entrance, whilst you and Barton used the backdoor, closing off any escape route according to F.R.I.D.A.Y.

But as you stepped inside the building, it became clear that the tactic you have discussed and the blueprint F.R.I.D.A.Y. showed has not been updated. "Is it just us or have you found yourself in a completely different part of the building too?" You asked Steve and Natasha through the earpiece as you looked around, realising nothing was even remotely similar to your expectations.

"Same here," Natasha replied with a heavy tone.

"Oh well, we like a good improvisation," you chuckled silently. "Let's get the party started."

"Stay aware," Rogers warned you, knowing how reckless you were at times.

"Pfft, yes boss," you replied with a grin and even though you couldn't see it, he shook his head.

Barton and you separated, each of you inspecting a different area of the building with all kinds of metal boxes hiding thousands of weapons in them. As you headed towards the back of the building, you heard gunshots from not far away and you started running in the direction of the noise.

"Which one of you was that?" You asked, but for a second no reply came.

"It was me, but it's all good now. Easy targets," Barton replied in a smug tone.

"Don't get cocky," Steve replied as you headed back in your direction.

"Yeah, yeah," he chuckled silently. You shook your head at the conversation, their bickering always making your mood a little lighter, a little happier.

As you continued to a segregated area, you heard the rumbling sound of a machine. Walking through the room, you held your gun up, ready to fire, but there wasn't a soul around, only a dozen desks. Arriving next to the computer on top of a desk connected to a large, old looking machine, you touched the seat in front of it, it's leather still radiating heat. It was enough information for you to know that someone was close by.

You didn't need more time to find out you weren't alone as the sound of a gunshot shook the room, the bullet grazing your face. You immediately ducked and jumped behind another desk as your opponents started shouting at you vigorously. Beside the table you peaked out to look at the size of your enemy as you caught 3 men, each hiding behind a table just like you did. Adjusting the gun in your hand, you turned it toward your first target, shooting him on the chest as he fell back with a loud scream.

Your next target was farther, but it didn't stop you from shooting him on the shoulder and his stomach. However, the third man was relentlessly shooting at you and all around the room not even trying to spare his bullets, so you hid back behind the table.

"Maniac," you whispered.

"Are you alright?" You heard Natasha's voice through your ear.

"Yep, I just have a mental-case on my hand," you replied as you started shooting back, hitting him right across the chest as he fell back, gasping for air. When everything turned silent, you could only hear the rumbling of the machines again. Standing up from behind the table you headed to the 3 men, gun in hand, ready to shoot if any of them were alive, but they were laying on the floor, limbs spread out in all kinds of directions, no sign of survival. You didn't think twice before you headed back to the computer and took out a USB stick to copy the files. However, as you waited for the process to finish, you heard a loud groan. Turning around in a swift movement you saw one of the men raising his gun at you, so you shot. But before your bullet could reach him, he fired his weapon, burning a whole straight in your abdomen, the pain forcing you on your knees as a silent cry left your lungs.

"Fuck," you swore as you held onto the side of the desk to assist you in standing up, whilst your other hand was trying to apply pressure on the wound, stopping you from bleeding out.

"That didn't sound good," you heard Steve's voice.

"No way, captain obvious," you groaned as you pulled out the USB stick, shoving it into your pocket and grabbed your gun, throwing its strap over your shoulder.

"Are you okay?" He asked, ignoring your previous comment.

"Been worse," you replied, attempting to hide the pain in your voice.

Trying to balance yourself against the wall, you headed towards the exit, but each step seemed heavier, more difficult to take. Another room and another room followed, and it felt as though the exit was running away from you. Stopping in one of the rooms, you slid down on the wall and took a seat on the floor, feeling like you didn't have energy anymore, not even to take another step further.

The pain was unbearable, worse than any other injuries you've ever experienced before. You've been shot before, but it was always somewhat numbing when you sat down to take a breather, but as you stayed still leaning against the wall, the pain just increased. Closing your eyes, you tried to think of happy thoughts. The first time you met the Avengers, feeling as though you found a new family, the first time you met Bucky, his child-like smile painted across his face as he introduced himself, though you've heard of him already. There were many happy thoughts running through your head as you slipped in and out of consciousness. You could hear someone's voice, but you weren't sure if it was through your earpiece or if someone was beside you, but it didn't matter anymore. It was tiresome to stay awake, so regardless of the voices telling you to open your eyes, you shifted into a deep slumber.

"You know, I wouldn't mind if you woke up already," you heard a voice, but you couldn't identify it nor could you see the person. It remained dark and somewhat scary where you were. It wasn't often that you felt terrified, but all your efforts to open your eyes seemed fruitless. The steady beeping of a machine beside you and the voice you heard seemed familiar, a cold feeling around your hand sending shivers through your body. You could hear your own groan, but it felt as though the voice didn't belong to you.

"You're safe! Come on, open those beautiful eyes," the voice tried to encourage you. "You can do it, I know you can. Just open them."

Another loud groan left your lungs as you fought hard against the darkness, before your eyes fluttered open, the bright lights above you burning your vision. As if your visitor could sense your discomfort, they dimmed the light as you felt the cold sensation disappear from your hand.

"Do me a favour and open those pretty eyes, okay?" He pleaded with you, his voice sounding familiar, his tone holding a great deal of worry. It took you a good few moments to adjust your vision to your surroundings, before you could force yourself to look around. Without a second glance you recognised the hospital wing of the compound, before your gaze fell on Bucky's scruffy face, clearly avoiding his razors lately.

"Hey," you wanted to greet him, but your voice was barely a whisper, your throat burning from the dry sensation.

"Wait, here," he stood up to offer you a glass of water and he gave you the end of the straw. Chucking it down, trying to regain moisture in your throat, you almost choked on the liquid. "Careful," he warned you as he took the glass from you. Luckily coughing up the liquid seemed to do the trick and within seconds you felt better.

"Thank you," you tried to smile, but it quickly disappeared as you attempted to sit up and a horrible pain shot through your stomach, making you cry out in pain. Bucky placed an arm behind your back and helped you into a seated position, watching as you squeezed your teeth tight, not to let out a sound. He shook his head disapprovingly and that's when you realised the dark circles under his eyes, the deep frown between his brows as if they were permanently stuck there and his lips chapped from dehydration. "You look awful," you snickered, but the pain in your stomach quickly put an end to it.

"Not worse than you," he replied with a soft smile, the wrinkles between his brows started to slowly flatten.

"That I believe," you nodded, feeling as bad as you possibly looked. "How did I end up here? Last time I checked I was in the warehouse," you asked with a humorous tone, but Bucky's face quickly turned concerned.

"It's not funny. They found you unconscious and they brought you back. You've been out for days. You were covered in blood, in and out of consciousness. How could you be so reckless to get shot?" He scolded you and for once you felt guilty.

"I know, I could have jeopardised the mission," you added with a heavy sigh.

"What?" He asked with a stunned expression, furrowing at your words. "Who cares about the mission? You could have gotten yourself killed," he raised his voice, filled with concern and anger. You've never seen so many emotions from him nor has he ever raised his voice with you.

"I'm sorry," you apologised, another rush of guilt taking over you as you let your head fall forward. It wasn't your intention to get shot after all, it just happened, because once again you were reckless and didn't pay attention to the details.

"I'm just glad you are okay," he added as he sat down beside you.

"Oh, were you worried about me?" You chuckled, trying to lift his tense mood.

"Yes, I was," he stated firmly, concern clearly painted across his face.

"Is it a friendly worry," you asked with a mischievous smile, "or it's an 'I almost lost the love of my life' worry?" You snickered playfully.

"It's an 'I'm going to murder you next time if you try something like this' kind of worry," he huffed, earning a heartfelt laughter from you, but it quickly disappeared as the pain shot through your stomach, as though someone stabbed you. "Stop playing around, can't you just be serious once?" He groaned, your recklessness playing with his nerves.

"You made me laugh, so don't nag me," you pulled a face, an annoyed grimace which earned a disapproving look from the man as he leaned back in his chair, folding his arms in front of his chest. "If I knew I needed to get myself almost killed to get your attention, I would have done it earlier," you replied with a humorous tone, but with a straight face, trying to lift the mood once again. Of course, you knew it could have gotten you killed, and you were glad that you were alive and fairly well, but it was easier to joke around than to stay serious.

Bucky shot up from his chair and started walking up and down in front of your bed. "You know it could have ended worse, right?" He asked with a stern look and you nodded in response, this time stopping yourself from trying to joke around. "You could have died," you weren't sure where he was going with it, but from the grave and solemn emotions across his face, you knew he was very serious. "What if you died, huh? You wouldn't be joking around now; you would be six feet under the ground. Would that be funny?" He asked, almost as though he was demanding an answer.

"No, it wouldn't, and I don't want to die obviously. I just didn't want to see you so worried so I thought it would be better if I joked around and you would be less— I don't even know, tense I guess," you huffed as you played with your fingers in your lap nervously. Bucky heaved a heavy sigh as he sat down in the chair beside you and placed his elbows on the edge of your bed, watching you intently. He lifted your hand and leaned his forehead against your knuckles as he closed his eyes, a comforting silence falling between the two of you. "I'm sorry," you apologised again, this time sincerely. You never wanted to make him so worried, let alone see him this concerned. He shook his head, but he didn't open his eyes.

"I was worried because you were dying, but that wasn't the only reason," a heavy sigh left his lungs as he lifted his head and kissed your knuckles, his words leaving you in confusion. His gaze fell on you, watching and studying you as though he was trying to read you. "I was worried because I thought I would lose you before I could have even told you how I felt. I was worried because all this time I have been pushing you away instead of giving us a chance and I thought I would never be able to tell you this. I honestly thought I was about to lose you and it was eating me up from the inside," you took your hand from his and placed it on his cheek, caressing his stubble as he placed his hand on yours, leaning into your touch. "When I heard your voice and watched you fighting to wake up, it felt like I got a second chance with you."

"And what about all your excuses? You are older, you are broken, your mind is not there. What about all of those excuses?" You raised a questioning brow, but you couldn't hide the tiny smile in the corner of your lips.

"I still think I'm older than you," he replied with a wider grin this time.

"And here we go, James Barnes is back with excuses," you huffed shaking your head as you rolled your eyes.

"I will always think like that, but it doesn't mean I love you any less," your eyes grew wide at his sudden confession, a shocked expression taking over your facial muscles.

"Lo— love me?" You asked, stumbling through your words, feeling like you were dreaming, like you were in an alternate universe, an unfamiliar scenario playing.

A heavy sigh escaped his lips, a soft smile spreading across face. "Yes, I do love you."

His words once again shocked you, but as he repeated them, they started to feel more real. "Does— does that mean that– that you would like to give us a chance?" You stuttered, your own confidence betraying you.

"I would like nothing more," he smiled softly as he squeezed your hand. You watched his blue eyes, trying to understand if it was indeed reality or if you were in some sort of dream, but the genuine, loving expression across his face, his eyes holding your gaze endearingly gave you all the answers you needed.

"It took you long enough to open your eyes," you scolded him, but you couldn't mask your happiness. "So, how is it going to be? Do I have to wait for the first kiss until our first date? Sorry, I only dated people my age," you snickered playfully. He shook his head with a wide grin across his face as he stood up and leaned closer to you, hinting a small kiss on your forehead.

"There's your kiss," he chuckled as you pouted, his actions making you feel soft as though you were more than just an agent, but a woman once again.

"What about on the lips?" You asked with an awkward smile.

"You really are impatient," he replied with a scolding tone, but a cheeky smile in the corner of his lips and he did as you wished and connected his lips with yours, kissing you softly, filled with love and care. As he pulled away, he sat back in his seat, both of you beaming happily. A warm sensation rushed through your body when he held onto your hand again, leaning his face against your knuckles, his happy, worriless smile making you mirror his expression. In that moment, you were just plain happy and no one could take that away from you.

Notes: If you enjoyed reading this little piece, please don’t forget to leave a like, comment and/or reblog. Your opinion matters and gives us motivation. Thank you ^^

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djemsostylist · 2 years

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I think my principal problem with Galadriel, as she is being conceived in the Amazon LOTR show, is my chief problem with how so much of modern media interprets female characters, with this idea that all female characters in all things must be able to do all the things a Man can do! Which I heartily, heartily disagree with.

I had this talk with @bonesingerofyme-loca while ago, about how I feel Warhammer handles woman exceptionally well, and that I don't feel like the lack of female space marines is problematic. In fact, one of the things that I love about Warhammer is that there aren't female space marines, because there don't need to be. Women fill very different roles in the story, and all of them are rich and deep and nuanced and incredibly important.

And then I was thinking about why Galadriel as "Commander of the Armies of the North" bugs me so much and I was flipping back through the Histories of Middle Earth and then some old fanfic I used to read (Celeborn/Galadriel is my jam) and it struck me. It's because, much like the Admirals of many a Legion, her power is not in the wielding of swords and the slaying of foes, it's in protection and strength and support (profound revelation I know)--so that when a war is waged and the men go out to fight, they have strength and support and, perhaps most importantly, the safety and security of a home to go back to. In many ways, Galadriel is the the Lotara Sarrin of Middle Earth, or the Athene DuCade. She holds fast and strong to their fortress and hovers over their shoulders to unleash hell, should it be needed, but she does not wield a sword directly.

And the thing is, this makes sense with Galadriel's character. Fans will argue that she has, in fact, wielded a sword. At the Kin-Slaying. And while this is true, I also think the fact that she never again chose to, but instead sought the teaching of Melian, for whom the greatest offense was in impenetrable defense, who could read the hearts of elves and men, whos strength allowed her husband to build and maintain a kingdom and wage the wars he needed to. And it's no surprise that this is the role she eventually takes on with Celeborn. I think the story of Galadriel, or Nerwen, is actually fascinating bc she originally sets out to be like her brothers and cousins. She wants to rule a kingdom and claim lands and fight. She is as tall and strong as powerful as any of her male counterparts (endless brothers and cousins) and even her mother name, Nerwen, means "Man Maiden".

But then comes the Kin-Slaying, and the first time she ever kills and it's kin. And I'd imagine that fundamentally changes her, because you can't go through that and not be changed. And so she finds another way. She enters Doriath and sees that there is another way to wield power, another path she might take to use her might and power and not wield a sword. And I find it interesting in becoming Galadriel, in giving up those dreams of being a queen a soldier and accepting her role as Protector, she and her husband have a far kinder fate than any that awaited her brothers and cousins. She and Celeborn rule, yes, but by all accounts their kingdoms are given to them, not taken, and their rule is that of protector and guardian. Celeborn fights--he is the soldier and Galadriel is his strength--he conquers the armies and she throws down the walls. They work together to achieve their goals, but Galadriel is not required to take on the more traditional man's role to accomplish their goals. In fact, but not doing so, they are some of the few elves who survive both the 1st and 2nd age intact.

To me, it's far more interesting to imagine the differing roles of men in women in various settings, and how those roles are shaped by the universe we are playing in, and how the characters respond to these differences. Men and woman are fundamentally different, and I see no need for characters to be written as though genders could be merely swapped out and the role wouldn't change at all.

#galadriel #celeborn #lord of the rings #tolkien #straight up i am so relieved they don't have celeborn in the new show #it would bug the shit outta me #don't touch my boy

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dreadwulf · 3 years

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2: The Black Mountains

Post-Apocalyptic Modern AU. Chapter 1 is here.

The last thing his right eye ever saw was Brienne.

In that eye she is shouting. Of course he couldn’t hear her at the time over the jeers of the Bloody Mummers tying him to the table. Their laughter had been right up against his ears and the sound of it drowned out everything else in that abandoned mall. The image is soundless: her mouth is just open, her throat pushing out a word that looks like No. Her blue eyes are also open wide, both frightened and angry, a righteous fury that came to him as a surprise, at the time.

She is a still image that resides in the abandoned nerves to that empty eye socket. If he cares to, he can still see her there, superimposed over everything.

She hovers over The Spider’s right shoulder just now. Still saying No.

He tries to focus on the Spider’s face instead. Varys raises one perfectly sculpted eyebrow on his immaculate bald head.

“You can’t shoot anymore. Not like before, not with one eye. You know this.”

“I don’t mean to shoot.” Jaime shows his palms. “I have two hands still. I need a weapon I won’t have to aim.”

Varys measures this statement. He is a man who deals in knowledge more than goods, but he has an armed guard, and a collection of interesting weapons. Both for his own protection, and for use in acquiring the most valuable intel.

“In that case,” the Spider presses a button on the trailer wall. To one of the bikers, a large man with a burnt face who looks in the door in response to his call, he instructs, “bring me the Widow’s Wail.”

The same scarred man reappears with a comically oversized weapon in his hands. Turns out Widow’s Wail is an axe. It is a huge, two-handed, double-bladed axe and when the burnt biker hands it to Jaime his hands dip with the weight.

Axes, Brienne used to tell him, are the best weapon for killing Others. You don’t need to reload an axe. It can’t jam, doesn’t recoil. Simple and effective.

Messy though, he had said back. He had always preferred his rifle -- clean and fast, one shot and done, and hopefully at a distance. The Others would fall down like carnival targets, one after another, and his favorite jacket would remain spotless. But after they took his eye, he had needed a new weapon, and his jacket was long-ruined by then.

This is messy work, she had replied.

Now, he lifts the weapon, turns it one way and another. Both edges gleam in the fluorescent light. This axe has been sharpened recently. It is spotless. This weapon has never seen battle.

“It’s new,” Varys fills in immediately, “but it was designed to kill Others. Old valyrian steel, made the old way. We haven’t yet had opportunity to test it, but it will strike true.”

Jaime doesn’t ask how Varys would be able to make a valyrian steel weapon. Knowing how is what he does.

The Spider watches him curiously. “Are we square then, Slayer?”

“Almost.” He sits again, crosses the long weapon over his lap with both fists grasping it tightly. “Where did it happen?”

“In the North. What exactly happened is unclear even to me, but we know for certain she had traveled north with a small gang. There are reports of her at Winterfell, and then she went with Snow and a small band of Starks beyond the Black Mountains. They returned without her.”

Jaime nods shortly. “Winterfell, then the wilds.”

The Spider frowns. He is perhaps a little perplexed by this conversation, or by Jaime himself. He likes to think he knows people, knows how they will react. But recent years have made a different man of Jaime Lannister. The fall of King’s Landing, his father’s death, the business with Cersei -- after all that, the arrogant and impetuous adventurer of his younger days is long gone. He is a ghost of himself, and the Spider doesn’t know what this ghost will do. He doesn’t like that.

He sits up a little bit straighter on his couch. “Then it isn’t our local outbreak you intend to fight? I expected you would be nearby. Kill some Others, burn off some steam, and incidentally clear out some of the infestation in the Riverlands, which would be convenient for me. But you aren’t doing that, are you? You mean to follow her? To what purpose?”

Jaime’s eye flickers briefly right. “Hunting.”

“It will be pointless to mount a rescue mission, I assure you.”

“That isn’t the point.”

Their eyes meet for a moment. Jaime isn’t about to elaborate on his intentions, and Varys is visibly frustrated. His silky tones shorten, revealing something sharp beneath.

“I ought to stop you. You have brought order to the Westerlands, and you’re starting to bring it here too. Alliances, patrols for the roads. Your brother, clever as he is, did not do that. If you abandon these lands, it may all fall apart.”

Jaime feels a flicker of guilt for that, but it is quickly doused by everything else happening inside him. No, this is important. Maybe the most important thing he has ever done.

He shrugs stiffly. “If it falls apart without me, it was too fragile to last.”

“You’ll need more than an axe and your motorbike to make that journey. You have favors to trade, certainly,” Varys cuts him off before he can argue, “but not that many. The scouting party went beyond the Black Mountains, across them, into the far North. There are few enough waystations on the way to Winterfell, and everything North of Winterfell belongs to the Others. There will be no shelters for you along the way, no refuges, no refueling.”

Jaime is unconcerned. “If she made it there, then I can too.”

“The Blue Angel had a party of supporters, specialists. She would have been outfitted with the best supplies and equipment. She was welcomed everywhere she went, and at the peak of her powers. No offense, Slayer, but you are past your prime, and your powers lately end at the borders of Lannister territory.”

He smiles thinly as he stands. “I didn’t know you cared, Spider. Thanks for the weapon. We’re square.”

Jaime takes the axe outside, and stands staring up at the moon, while the bikers retrieve his motorbike.

Anytime he looks at the moon, anytime there is a moon, he thinks of her. Remembers how they had looked on it together, during those long nights on the road, even though they had parted years ago now. Her on to glory, him back to the arms of his family. They delivered the girls to Winterfell, and he left her to the Kingsroad. It was her territory after that, what once had been his. She had earned it in sweat and tears and blood. She tended it well without him. He had gloried in tales of her exploits.

Whenever he looks at the moon, he has always wondered if she is looking too. Wherever she is.

He thinks he will not be able to look at the moon anymore.

When he turns his head, Varys stands on the steps of his trailer, his bald head gleaming against the fluorescent light. Jaime has never seen him outside his trailer. It’s confusing, a little like seeing a penguin in the jungle.

“The Others of the Black Mountains are different,” The Spider warns him. “Worse.”

When his bike comes rolling back with two of the Spider’s bikers, it comes with a few more gifts. Two metal spheres, one the size of a softball and the other the size of a chestnut.

Grenades, obviously Old World. Gods know where Varys got them from, certainly they aren’t made this way anymore. What they’re calling grenades now will mostly just make noise. But these two could probably blow a hole in a tank. He packs them onto his bike carefully.

Any old-world weapon would be priceless now, Jaime knows. Varys would not overpay a debt.

He squints up at the Spider, who makes a silky shadow in the doorway against his light. “And the cost?”

The Spider smiles -- he can’t see it, on a shadow, but he can hear it in his voice. “If you come back, tell me what you saw. I hear very little of the Black Mountains and none of it first-hand.”

Jaime can promise that easily enough. He knows he won’t be coming back.

He walks his bike in silence about a mile up the road before waking the engines and roaring away.

He rides the motorbike until the last of his carefully hoarded gasoline is run out, rides right through the next day and into the night. Gets more miles out of it than he would have gotten with his creaky armored car, and certainly faster.

Along the way he sees no other travelers. Five years ago there would have been at least a few others, some other vehicles, perhaps spaced out and alone, perhaps all in a big caravan for safety. But there is not much fuel left anymore. And North is not a direction people go in now.

It was how he had met her, actually. On a road much like this one. He had been on a different motorbike and she had been driving a sedan. Obviously following him, less obvious why. He made it a chase - weaving between the stopped traffic, blasting around the walkers and cyclists and parades of cars going nowhere. She had somehow kept up with him, pushing her poor little car to its limits. Eventually he decided whoever it was had earned his attention for at least a few minutes, and he pulled over on the road to watch the tallest, ugliest woman he had ever seen unfold herself out of her car.

She kept his attention considerably longer than a few minutes. .

Of course, he could enjoy a chase back then - you could still count on petrol, could siphon it out of most any vehicle you encountered along the way. The cars along the road here are bone dry by now, haven’t moved in years, and the electronics, trunk supplies, and even promising upholstery have been stripped out of them long ago. The cars pass by now in muted streaks of blue and red, dulled by layers of paint-stripping weather damage and snow.

When his bike sputters to a stop, he leaves it right out on the highway. Packs his equipment onto his back. Then he begins to walk.

Without the headlights of his bike, it’s quite dark. No streetlights, of course. He has a torch in his bag, but he’s saving that battery as long as he can. Anyway, the moon is out, and once his eyes are adjusted he sees well enough. The trees encroaching on the interstate have not quite overtaken the shoulder, and the glow of moon and stars light up the cracked concrete in front of him, and glitter in the frost.

His boots echo his footfalls up and down the highway. First the gritty sound of gravel, and then the crunch of ice, and then the quieter scrunch of snow.

There are no other sounds to hear out here -- no bird cries, no insects. They aren’t sure if the animals are dead, hiding, or run away, but no one sees them anymore. Means he doesn’t have to worry about being eaten by bears, at least.

The last bear he has seen was that time with Brienne, actually. It might have been the last bear, period. He hasn’t heard of any other ones since. That would be a shame, if that had been the last bear, and they’d killed it. He hadn’t wanted to. He can’t take it personally, the bear trying to eat them. He was only hungry, and they were all very hungry that winter.

He didn’t know he would be fleeing the last bear in Westeros with her, when he met Brienne on the road. He only knew she was capable, and she was following him, and anyone out in the wilds could be dangerous. Out here other people were either foolishly overconfident, robbers, or competition.

Brienne proved to be the last type, possibly also the first. She was after the Stark bounty, same as him. She had a personal stake. He could keep the money, she said. He had a lot more experience and knew where he was going, but she could be an ally. She could help.

He had laughed in her face, more or less. Said she was free to make the bounty herself, but he traveled alone. Newbies tended to die almost immediately, and he hadn’t stayed alive this long by babysitting foolish college students. He would locate the missing Stark girls and deliver them home. But if she wanted to return them herself she’d have to beat him there.

A few weeks later they had wound up with one Stark girl apiece -- him with Sansa and her best girlfriend Jayne, her with Arya and her mate Gendry -- and again she had proposed an alliance for the trip up to Winterfell. No one had made it to Winterfell since the disaster, but their chances were better together, she said.

His better idea was that he could take the two valuable girls to Winterfell and she could take the two spares and go back to King’s Landing where it was safe, or jump in a lake for all he cared. But that conversation had been interrupted by the Bloody Mummers, and after that… things were very different after that.

Jaime slows to a stop with this remembrance, digs in his bag for his water bottle and takes a long pull. He’s tiring faster than he expected. He has tried to keep himself in fighting shape the last few years, but he hasn’t made a journey like this in a long time.

You’ve grown soft, he thinks, but inside his head it sounds like Brienne’s gentle ribbing. The tone she had taken after she stopped insulting him for real.

I’m refined, he answers back, slinging his pack over his shoulder and walking again. Answers between breaths, like he’s actually speaking. I’m a diplomat these days, remember?

Will you try to negotiate with the Others then? She laughs in his ear. What will you trade them, wine? Broken electronics? The only economy they know is violence, and we trade them blows.

He smiles to himself, despite everything. Young lady, it’s a good thing you didn’t come back to King’s Landing with me. You would have knocked out the Small Council within a day, and we’d both have been out on our asses.

And King’s Landing would have better off with us in the street than you in that office. We might have saved it. Old man, whatever have you done without me?

Jaime stops a moment, breathing hard, looking up at the moon.

I don’t know. I don’t know what I’ve been doing, where the time went. It all blurred together without you.

He has been having these conversations for years now. It isn’t exactly imagination. More prediction. He knows exactly what she would say in every instance. What she would think of the people he meets, the places he goes. He hears her critiques of his private practice sessions, when he tries to stay in shape for the inevitable invasion. Her quiet, private commentary. Her icy rejoinders to his jokes. They come to him like a reply. Like she has heard him gods-know-how-many miles away, and answered him back.

It’s painful now, hearing her voice. He doesn’t know why it would be different - alive or dead, he is only talking to himself after all. Perhaps it is only more obviously futile this way, knowing she is gone.

He was never going to see her again, he knows that. The things she does, they were always eventually going to get her killed. Hells, he told her that himself more than once.

Even now it still isn’t entirely real to him. It doesn’t seem possible. But the Spider knows things, and if he knows them they aren’t just rumors. It’s true. It’s sinking in. Brienne is gone.

She doesn’t walk the same world as him anymore. He will hear no more tales of her adventures, and smile privately at the things nobody else knows of her. He will not wonder if it snows where she is, or if the sun shines. Whether she ever thinks of him, the way he does of her. They traveled together only a year, but she carved a place for herself in him, in the slow and brutal way water carves a cliffside. He has kept her there all this time. Now in that space there is emptiness, a brutal, sucking vacuum that might just pull him apart if he stops moving long enough.

So he starts walking again. Keeps walking, on and on, without rest, for as long as he can stand it.

Here and there one of the Others comes onto the road ahead of him. They wander on and off aimlessly, looking lost. At a distance they look nearly alive, so long as they aren’t missing any limbs, and only the directionless of their movements give them away. As you get closer you can see their clothing is wrong -- it’s not enough clothes for the weather, or their clothes are torn, bits are missing. Maybe the clothes are rotting right off their bodies, if they’re been out long enough. Closer still and you can see the blueish tinge to the skin that the Others are famous for, the thin layer of frost that covers them head to toe. At ten feet or so you can make out the ice blue eyes that glow like cat’s eyes in the light. But by then they’ve seen you, and they move much faster than you think they can. Best not to get that close. Best to stay well away, and let them turn and wander in another direction out of sight.

As always, one wonders what they’re looking for. Where they’re going.

Some of them will wander away before he catches up, and he pays them no mind. If he is quiet, and they didn’t take notice of him, it is easier to let them pass by. Fighting can be loud, and that sort of noise could bring more of them running.

But eventually one is too slow. They can be damaged, and those stumbling steps can be frustratingly deliberate at times. This one is fairly tall, and drags its foot in the snow. On the highway, it reminds him of an elderly driver occupying the fast lane at a crawl. Even as he slows his pace, he gets closer and closer, and the dead thing shows no signs of changing direction.

Eventually he can wait no longer. He will have to overtake the creature. At least he hasn’t seen any other Others nearby. This Other shows no sign of noticing him. Jaime slowly draws the axe off his back, and makes six rapid, long strides in the thing’s direction, winding up for a massive crossways swing.

Varys didn’t lie; the axe cuts true. One good blow across the back is enough to bring it down, and he remembers where to strike. Sever the spinal cord, destroy the brain, or burn them, that destroys them. The axe is so sharp it cuts the thing nearly in half. There is a quick, sharp sound of impact and the thud of a body hitting the ground, and then silence.

They don’t scream, the others. They don’t make noises of any kind. Maybe because they don’t breathe anymore; who knows. He pulls the axe out of the thing’s bulk and wipes it in the snow.

The first Other to fall to him in five years that he didn’t hit with his car. It feels good. It doesn’t relieve the great sucking void he has inside him but it does feel good.

He shoulders the axe and keeps walking. After that, he strikes down one of them every few hours, until the sun comes up, and then he huddles on the embankment, dozing, for most of the morning. It’s not so cold he’ll freeze - not yet, anyway - and there aren’t so many Others around that he can’t risk it.

He’s lucky, for the most part. There aren’t any big clusters of Others out here. Those tend to form up around settlements and cities, or lingering around empty houses. Not out here in the open space, where there aren’t travelers anymore.

He passes the next night in a car, after crawling in a broken window. It’s not especially safer, but it is more comfortable than the ground. He sprawls across the backseat and thinks about the red wood-paneled station wagon he had found buried in a parking lot and managed to start. He and Brienne drove that car all the way to Harrenhall, the now five children sleeping in the back. The seat was so wide even Brienne could lay down in it, and she was inches taller than him.

This car is blue, and he has to bend his knees and curl up to fit on the seat.

Keep watch for me, Angel, he tells her, before he drifts off.

Days of steady walking pass this way, with fitful bursts of sleep.

The Black Mountains are looming in the far distance when he nears Winterfell. So tall he can see them all these miles away, staining the low edge of the horizon like a shadow.

Jaime keeps his eyes on the ground mostly. He’s only been here once, and it wasn’t an enjoyable visit. It was a destination, and it meant the end of a long journey. He’s never much liked those. Endings. He tries to get those over with. If he can help it, he’d rather turn around and begin again right away, try to get back to the middle.

Wintertown is relatively intact, patrolled by fur-clad soldiers with shotguns. The town has grown since he was here last. The streets have people on them now, much more than in Lannisport or anywhere in the Riverlands. No cars, but regular people, old folks and even children, strolling about. He has to stop and stare at that for awhile. Pedestrians. It’s been a long time.

Perhaps things are better in the North? Maybe they are safer than they were. But Wintertown is small, and easily guarded, and in the shadow of the old Winterfell fortress these people know they can flee within its walls and be safe, should the Others attack again. That’s more reassurance than most places have.

For a little while he walks up and down those streets, just another window-shopper. The buildings are mostly refitted as residences, but on the sidewalks people sell goods out of carts, or spread out on the sidewalk. Wanderers come through and trade the trinkets they’ve found. There aren’t prices. Most likely they will take food, and medicine, and more practical items, in trade. He didn’t bring anything like that, unfortunately. But there isn’t anything he needs here.

At the end of a long boulevard Jaime finds himself before the gates of Winterfell, and he pauses.

This was where he had parted from her. Right here.

He grimaces past that memory. He was an ass about it, of course. Tried to sneak away. She caught him. There was a confrontation. Things were said.

Things? Brienne-in-his-mind prods him indignantly. Have you forgotten already?

I remember every word. He sighs. Unfortunately.

The gates to Winterfell stand open for now. Probably so that Wintertown can run inside, if someone rings the alarm. Jaime passes through and takes the gravel path to the old castle. It’s a sturdy thing, for being several hundred years old. Solid and undecayed. Sure, they have to replace the wood every few decades, but the stone is thick and unbroken. There are walls behind walls, like any medieval keep, and courtyards and gates separating them. Guards stand atop the fortifications with guns, and they watch him approaching. Wary, but welcoming. Anyone not undead is allowed to pass through, at least to the midden.

The kids are here at Winterfell, probably. Somewhere. Many of them stayed, he has heard. The Starks for sure, and maybe some of the other strays he and Brienne had picked up along the way. Any of the running kids in Wintertown could have been Apple, that baby that Willow and Sansa had fawned over. He would be five, six years old now. That is, if he were alive.

He doesn’t want to see any of them if he can help it. Best not to go inside the Great Keep then. He goes to the Great Hall instead. The velvet ropes are all taken down. It was a tourist trap for a lot of years, before its fortifications became unexpectedly useful again. Used to be you could get a feast inside, with cosplayers and a jester and a bard, and then you could get back in your car and drive away home.

Bit different now. The fires are still roaring, but put to more practical use. Broken furniture surrounds the great fireplaces where they have been stripping the upholstery and feeding the fire. Laundry is strung up before them, and boils in great kettles. Nearer to mealtime the laundry will be replaced with soup and stew. The fireplaces in the living quarters had been stripped out long ago, replaced with appliances that no longer work. They have to do nearly everything in the great hall now, and gather in smaller rooms.

The head washerwoman takes his message back to the living quarters and Jaime sits down to wait. There is an armchair that is strikingly comfortable for as old as it looks, upholstered in a velvety material. It might be some kind of antique, something with a PLEASE DO NOT TOUCH sign on it back when this was a museum. There isn’t much use for antiques anymore. He sits in the chair.

He sits back and stares at nothing for a time. He might have fallen asleep, because the girls appear as if by magic, just as he remembers them but taller and leaner, their chubby faces hollowed by early adulthood.

Sansa is quite tall, for a Stark anyway. She looks like her mother otherwise; red-haired, high-cheekboned, very pretty. Her sister looks like their father, sturdy and strong-jawed, Northern. They stare at him owlishly, and he wonders what he looks like to them. He is not nearly so changed -- grew a beard, added some lines around his eyes -- but they were children when they saw him last, and they are not children now. He has to look up to see them.

“You came for Brienne,” Arya says abruptly -- as usual she realizes the obvious first and doesn’t hesitate to speak it aloud.

Jaime nods. There isn’t much more to say than that.

“We had a memorial,” Sansa hovers over him awkwardly, looking unsure. “All of Winterfell came, much of Wintertown as well. We would have waited if we had known you would come.”

“You thought I wouldn’t?” He says it more sharply than he intends.

Arya snaps back. “You’ve been gone a long time, and not a single letter. What else could we think?”

Sansa stops her with a hand to her shoulder. She was always an empathetic child. “You’re welcome here now. Can I get you anything?”

“Your brother. If he’s here.” His eyes drift to Widow’s Wail, where it sits on the floor beside him. “I’ve heard he was there when it happened. I need to hear it from him.”

Sansa leans forward and touches his hands, briefly. “We can take you to him.”

He can only nod.

He follows the girls through the old fortress into a more modern living area. Home, most like. The Starks have all congregated here, the ones left.

Jon Snow he has never met before. The girls’ half-brother. Lord Snow of Winterfell, now. He stands straight and stiff, trying to look older than he is. He has a warm parka on over his polar fleece, something puffy and filled with down. It’s hard to be serious in a puffy coat without coming off at least faintly ridiculous, but the young man manages it somehow.

“She was a great help to my family,” Jon says, and shakes his hand vigorously. “A great fighter, the bravest of all of us, and the kindest too. Every one of us here at Winterfell thought very highly of her.”

“And your mission?” Jaime shuts down the reminiscence quickly. He does not want to remember Brienne here. Certainly not with the Starks.

Jon hangs his head. “It wasn’t a complete waste. But it wasn’t quite what we wanted, either.”

He gestures to a sofa. Jaime sits on the edge of it, unwilling to relax. This is rather too much civilization for him right now. Jon sits down expansively on an easy chair, and runs a hand through wild black hair.

“We were hoping to find something that would explain where the Others come from. We thought the Black Mountains might have the answer, the mountains and the land beyond. It’s hard to find much on the Mountains though -- only one road is passable, everywhere else is ice and deep snow. Beyond the Mountains there is a place they’re calling Craster’s Keep. We knew something was very wrong there. We should have stayed away.” Jon shakes his head, so serious.

Jaime waits.

“We suspected they were colluding with the Others somehow. The ones on the Mountain. The old man… it was terrible. What he was doing. We had to put a stop to it. Brienne followed one of the men to their meeting place, where the Others come down the Mountain. She never came back.”

That is rather less definitive than Jaime wants to hear.

“That’s all? Did you search?” he asks sharply.

Jon looks defensive at first, but softens quickly. “I assure you, if there was anything to find, we would have found it. We were very fond of her. There were signs of a battle, and several Others fallen there. But of her there was no sign. There was no body.” Jon looks reluctant to continue. “We did find this.”

Hesitantly, he holds out the wrapped bundle to Jaime. He knows it immediately. Takes it like he took the grenades, carefully and reluctantly.

His hands unwrap the thing before he can think twice, to show himself what he already knows. It’s Brienne’s titanium bat. Bloodstained, dirty, with a single chip in it near the tip.

They had nicknamed it Oathkeeper, way back then. It was more like a mythical sword than a bat. Titanium bats weren’t even allowed in baseball, in any league. They hit the ball so hard it was dangerous to the other players. They probably shouldn’t have been made in the first place, and they stopped making them decades before the Others came and their true usefulness became apparent.

Jaime holds the bat. Brienne had carried this thing for so long. He puts his fingers where she would have put hers, the way a player held it to hit a ball. He can see the mark of her fingers there, slowly rubbed into the metal across the years.

Jon is still talking. “These Others are different. Our Others will kill and turn. But these... We suspect that they consume the bodies instead of raising them. I think there was nothing remaining to find.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Jaime stands.

“If you will insist…” Jon rises as well, solemn. “My friend Sam stayed behind there. If you reach Craster’s Keep, ask for Sam. He’ll tell you what you need to know.”

*****************

He passes a night there, lying awake in a bed.

They gave him her room. A quiet, out-of-the-way guest bedroom with little in the way of modern amenities. It has a homey feeling, just the same. It feels like her.

She left some things there; little knick-knacks. She liked to pick up small things, put them in her pockets. Her coat had loads of pockets hidden everywhere. By the end of the day she would have lots of little treasures. You could turn her upside down and shake her and all sorts of shiny treats would come rolling out. Figurines, stones, tiny toys. They’re arranged all around the room, on the windowsill, on the dresser. Probably if he went through her clothes he would find more things still hidden away in her pockets. The coat, though, that wouldn’t be there in the closet, he knows without looking. She would have it with her, wherever she has gone.

Jaime leaves her things alone. It’s enough to know they’re there, waiting for her.

Brienne slept in this bed. This is the only home she had, so far as he knows. She stayed here after he left, here at Winterfell. She would have rested here -- she was still a little sick. It had been a few weeks, at least, before she went back to the Kingsroad. After that she came back here between adventures, making the long, dangerous journey there and back again. In the dead of winter she would rest here at least a month, from what he could tell, every year.

He should have stayed with her.

She never asked him. Not out loud. But he knows, deep down, he would have been welcome. He knew it then, too. But he had left her at Winterfell and gone back. Back to the arms of his family who needed him more than she ever would. Back to his father and his expectations, to his siblings who needed his protection. The job was over, and he went back to where he belonged.

Not a day has gone by that he doesn’t regret it.

************************

In the morning he is lacing his new boots in the great hall, a gift from Jon. They are a little large, but warm, and useful for maneuvering on ice. He suspects they had once belonged to Ned Stark; certainly none of the Stark boys have feet this big.

Jon has also given him a down parka like his own. Such a thing would fetch a lot in trade these days, but he insists Jaime take it. “This is the least I can do, for bringing my brother and sisters home.”

Jaime promises to return it, though he can see that Jon does not expect to see him at Winterfell again. Neither of them do.

His pack has been refilled with food, bandages, antiseptic, and an icepick. Arya had thrust the bag at him wordlessly and turned on her heel and left and he does not see her again. How much and how little people change from when they are small; he can still see the dark-eyed child in the woman she is becoming. It makes him feel positively ancient.

Sansa accompanies him to the gates of Winterfell, gliding elegantly over the snow in her warm winter coat. She chatters as much as she always did, though it was never to him before. She used to keep her distance from him, as she had from most men. She misses Brienne, he realizes, looking at her. She must have been like an older sister, or an aunt, or...

He never did lay eyes on Rickon, did he? He is probably running wild somewhere, running with the wolves. He doesn’t ask, though he suspects Sansa would like him to. Nor does he ask about Willow, or Gendry, or any of the others. He has too much to carry already.

“You’re different,” Sansa tells him, nearing the gates.

“You’re older,” he says. “You see me better.”

“Maybe.” The auburn beauty frowns. “Do you think she’s still alive out there?”

He doesn’t want to talk about it. He doesn’t want to see the concern on her face, not if it’s for him.

“Do you think Brienne would want you to do this? Go after her like this?”

No. “That won’t stop me.”

“She would want you to go on with your life.”

“I don’t care.” He can’t quite look at Sansa. He couldn’t look at Arya either. They remind him of too much.

“Why did you never come back? She waited for you. She was still waiting.”

He shuts his eyes against her. “Don’t tell me that. Don’t. Not now.”

Sansa sniffles, and her voice trembles. “I’m so sorry. You were both so good to us. I’m so sorry,” she repeats, and tries to put her arms around him, but he’s already walking away.

He’s going through the gates of Winterfell, straight down the boulevard of Wintertown.

He doesn’t stop. He turns to the Black Mountains, and keeps walking.

#dreadwulf fic #And You Will Know Them By The Trail of Dead #braime #jaime x brienne #modern AU #Zombie AU #though ASOIAF is already a zombie AU this is just... a different one

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reluctanx · 3 years

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𝘽𝙉𝙃𝘼 𝙃𝙀𝘼𝘿𝘾𝘼𝙉𝙊𝙉 >> CLASS 1-B. || Fem!s/o

𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙍𝘼𝘾𝙏𝙀𝙍𝙎 𝙄𝙉𝘾𝙇𝙐𝘿𝙀𝘿: neito monoma, itsuka kendo, sen kaibara, ibara shiozaki, tetsutetsu tetsutetsu, reiko yanagi, setsuna tokage

𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂 (𝙎) : n/a [?]

-Neito Monoma

!! 🧺 | he’s actually very sweet, just a bit playful with you

!! 🧺 | he cracks joke just to make you laugh because your smile means EVERYTHING to him

!! 🧺 | i’m pretty sure he’s a nerd at color theory and would ALWAYS point out how beautiful your eyes are. even if it has a darker shade, he just knows that it’s a beautiful color that he loves so much

!! 🧺 | he doesn’t let other people touch his bunnies besides kendo, you may also be the exception

!! 🧺 | overly dramatic because he knows you can’t possibly, truly handle his bullshit

!! 🧺 | his teenager crush on you is so adorable, because he’s always in denial. or refuses to admit he have a crush on you

!! 🧺 | seeing that you’re not comparing him to a villain because of his quirk, wether it’s a joke or not. you automatically gain a part of his trust and respect. deadass

!! 🧺 | he bullies people for a reason, and you better deal with that

!! 🧺 | very argumentative, trying to fight with him with controversial topics is useless

!! 🧺 | LET. HIM. TOUCH. YO. HAIR………. pls

!! 🧺 | even if he tries, he can’t keep up late at night. HE WILL fall asleep, so sometimes you’ll be left on read accidentally-

!! 🧺 | when texting… he’s a total different person omg

!! 🧺 | no because if your seat is next to his, he will pass you the answers for the math exam.. (don’t lie, i know you’re a total dogshit at this subject. )

!! 🧺 | he’s a real big fan of Vlad king so you better be prepared seeing some of his merch in his closet

!! 🧺 | seeing you in his clothes makes him feel weird. he’ll try to make fun of you but he’s just really flustered to look at cha’ i swear

!! 🧺 | it’s rare to see him swear, so when he do so.. dear god..

!! 🧺 | HE DOESN’T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT YOUR BODY SHAPE, SIZE OR WHATEVER, HE LOVES YOU THE WAY YOU ARE AND HE WILL REMIND YOU THAT

!! 🧺 | “you love me o’ sooo much it makes you look stupid.”

!! 🧺 | “don’t tell kendo about this, but i like you. for real.”

!! 🧺 | pronouns first with this man, pronouns = priority, pronouns respected. period.

!! 🧺 | he would be such a simp for you..

!! 🧺 | not obsessive or possesive, per se just jealous in a healthy way

!! 🧺 | “i’m literally a low quality version of bakugo.”

!! 🧺 | THEATRICAL, AS FUCK.

-Itsuka Kendo

!! 🧸 | SHE’S LITERALLY A SWEET HEART *SOBS SOBS*

!! 🧸 | she acts like your big sister sometimes.

!! 🧸 | she’s so shy and intimidated when she gets to date you bro..

!! 🧸 | your hero name? your hero costume? gives no shit, she find everything about you AMAZING.

!! 🧸 | you’re the little spoon, don’t prove me wrong, you’re the little spoon

!! 🧸 | she finds you so cute (especially if you have chubby cheeks, cause like uuuUhhh…)

!! 🧸 | she dresses you up when ya’ll get a girl days

!! 🧸 | she doesn’t know how to cook, depending on your cooking skills; either you get to cook or ya’ll order sum shit idk

!! 🧸 | she have a whole romantic cottagecore playlist dedicated for you whenever she thinks about you i swear.

!! 🧸 | you participates in her activity of : “knocking-down-neito-whenever-hes-been-an-ass”

!! 🧸 | can’t even afford to scold you the first time ya’ll meet, you’re so beautiful *sob sob*

!! 🧸 | if you’re in a social group space, you’re her favourite person, ya’ll are the duo of the friend group

!! 🧸 | “can’t sleep? that’s okay me too.”

!! 🧸 | picky, very picky eater. ya’ll may have trouble ordering something.

!! 🧸 | you’re the ticklish person, she’s the tickler. if you’re not, she’ll helplessly try to tickle you..-

!! 🧸 | “SPIDER, SPIDER!!”

!! 🧸 | your luck booster, i stg

!! 🧸 | she likes seeing you with fake cat ears, you look so adorable in her perspective

!! 🧸 | “LET’S WATCH A DISNEY MOVIE!!”

!! 🧸 | fast typer when texting.

!! 🧸 | you’re her angel, you are.

!! 🧸 | wants to be a make-up artist somedays.. so you better be ready and prepare to be a mannequin.

!! 🧸 | “you’re so weird *faces you* you’re so weird.”

!! 🧸 | 256 HOURS LONG OF TALK AND CHATS WHEN SHE ENCOUNTERS A LONG TIME FRIEND AT THE MALL

!! 🧸 | she wants to be a princess, your princess

!! 🧸 | SAY THAT YOU LOVE HER HAIR AND SHE WILL FLUSH

!! 🧸 | “why are you so pretty 🥺’

!! 🧸 | cottagecore lesbians :)

!! 🧸 | holding your hands + kisses + pecks on the lips, physical affection <<<<<<<<

!! 🧸 | gives you her stuffies, trust me she have LOADS of stuffies

!! 🧸 | BLUSHES SO HARD WHEN YOU WEAR HER CLOTHES

Sen Kaibara

!! 📢 | you don’t understand, the amount of love he holds for you is HUGE!

!! 📢 | fairly confident when he’s fighting by your side, you give him confidence..

!! 📢 | bad habits to compare your beauty with his

!! 📢 | trying to make him blush? oh honey, you don’t have to try once you have a relationship with him..

!! 📢 | his smile <<<<<<<<<<<<<

!! 📢 | usually quiet but tends to be talkative ONLY to you

!! 📢 | his heart beats faster and faster when you get close to him, but his face says 😐

!! 📢 | “kiss me already, dummy”

!! 📢 | really likes anime actually, ya’ll watch animes or read mangas sometimes :)

!! 📢 | *strokes strokes, scrubs scrubs your hair gently*

!! 📢 | thinks you look so cute in his clothes but doesn’t mention it

!! 📢 | secretly tries to get one of the things you crave for (an item, celebrity’s autograph idk sum shit)

!! 📢 | mockery against you? not on his watch.

!! 📢 | his love language is physical touch *sobs sobs*

!! 📢 | rubs your hand gently to calm you down when you feel anxious

!! 📢 | old times french love songs of edith piaf is his jam..

!! 📢 | hopeless romantic :c

!! 📢 | insecure? not on his watch,

!! 📢 | gives you his juice box to you and only to you

!! 📢 | you’re his first kiss

!! 📢 | BEST HUG GIVER

!! 📢 | the type to put your hair behind your ears

!! 📢 | “you’re my everything..”

!! 📢 | KISSES YOUR CHEEKS INTENSIVELY

!! 📢 | loves to feel euphoric, you make him euphoric

!! 📢 | you get the blower during summer lmao

!! 📢 | buys you loads of icecreams during summer

!! 📢 | go to the heater side during winter, right now, right here.

!! 📢 | everything you ask somethinh, he’ll answer instantly

!! 📢 | want something? dont worry, sen gotchu’

!! 📢 | SIMP

!! 📢 | wants to be someone truly meaningful to you

!! 📢 | you make him feel special for doing literally nothing

!! 📢 | he loves you, so so much.

Ibara Shiozaki

!! 🌱| literally the momo yaoyorazu of class 1-b but more theatrical

!! 🌱| you kinda just already knew that she have a preference for girls

!! 🌱| “mo- mother nature? what kind of silly things are you spouting out of that mouth of yours…”

!! 🌱| you are literally babied by her

!! 🌱| good baker and easily make your favorite dish/dessert

!! 🌱| you’re her top priority, and she carefully pays attention to you. deadass, she’s the type to wipe your mouth with her favorite tissue while she’s talking about a serious matter with her teamates bro

!! 🌱| she’s such a nerd in the rom-com industry, and gets pretty shy when you proceed to do something that is similar to a scene about one of her few rom-com movies. (ex: kadebon)

!! 🌱| she laughs so easily..

!! 🌱| “you’re so precious.”

!! 🌱| she showed all the symptoms of “crushing” back then, and you already knew that.

!! 🌱| everytime you hype her up, she smiles widely

!! 🌱| she’s so gift giving, she can’t leave you without giving you a gift first

!! 🌱| all the gifts you gave her stays safe and sound in her room

!! 🌱| “i might never be your hero, but i’ll be the winner of your heart.”

!! 🌱| she wants you to wear her clothes so ya’ll can match :)

!! 🌱| she’s quite wealthy, so she buys you some expensive gifts that reminds her of you

!! 🌱| always wrap her arms around you everywhere

!! 🌱| teases you but a lot

!! 🌱| she likes to do gardening stuff with you

!! 🌱| full knowledge on plants, every flowers she offers you was because of a characteristic that reminds her of you

!! 🌱| her efforts to be committed in your relationship is so visible

!! 🌱| always slips a little ‘I love you” everydays

!! 🌱| your love, affection and attention is enough to repay her for her consistent efforts.

!! 🌱| gets easily jealous but tries to hide it, but you obviously can tell due to her uncontrollable blush

!! 🌱| as she is so gift giving, you’ll try to argue with her saying she doesn’t need to give her this much gifts

!! 🌱| she gets overwhelmed when you make out of an exam/mission

!! 🌱| loves to give you a head massage while reading a book

!! 🌱| come and stargaze with her >:|

!! 🌱| kisses the back of your hand

!! 🌱| show you off when she have the chance to

!! 🌱| compared to what you may have assumed, she puts a lot of trust in her words when showin’ you off.

!! 🌱| “everyday and everynight, you make me happy just by thinking of your silly little face.”

!! 🌱| HELPS YOU WITH HOMEWORK

!! 🌱| SLEEPOVERS!!

!! 🌱| she felt insecure about her hair, so the fact that you had he audacity to pet her head made her fall inlove with you.

!! 🌱| gets genuinely confused when you laugh at her dramatic behavior

!! 🌱| her humor is kinda bad, so she may laugh at the stupidest thing ever

Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu

!! 🦈| oh boy, everything would be so wild with him

!! 🦈| you cannot leave the room without giving him a hug first

!! 🦈| awkward, like really

!! 🦈| “you’re the most coolest— beautifulest—…uuh.. person!”

!! 🦈| doesn’t academically succeed a lot, but puts a lot of efforts in his works. every praises you give him makes him smile

!! 🦈| makes you laugh without him knowing

!! 🦈| please, he probably starts to laugh when you start talking too fast because he doesn’t understand-

!! 🦈| in summer, he turns his arms into steel so you can grip against it (since steel is usually cold)

!! 🦈| probably have adhd

!! 🦈| loves to caress your cheeks

!! 🦈| sometimes kisses your little fingers for fun

!! 🦈| buddies to lover trope :D

!! 🦈| uses kaomoji than emojis

!! 🦈| his favorite song is teenage dirtbag

!! 🦈| he requires a good listener as his s/o, because he is a very talkative person and bring numerous topics and persons at the same time when talking to him

!! 🦈| “you’re extra-beautiful..”

!! 🦈| offers a fish related plushie

!! 🦈| shows off his abs for you

!! 🦈| two dumb hoes doing shit trope

!! 🦈| “you kinda remind me of an otter..?

!! 🦈| “wanna be a teenage dirtbag with me?”

!! 🦈| he calls you the popular girl of the school for a reason.. 😭

!! 🦈| calls you tetsutetsu junior when you wear his clothes

!! 🦈| openly admit that ya’ll are in a relationship to everyone

!! 🦈| is actually ticklish himself-

!! 🦈| loves to kiss your forehead

!! 🦈| loves to point out how cute you are

!! 🦈| definitely introduces you to fatgum and kirishima

!! 🦈| he can’t really came up with a petname.. so he’ll give you stupid ones

!! 🦈| as you can tell, he’s clearly not experienced but he tries, for you :)

!! 🦈| okay but power couple

!! 🦈| “if you steal the blankets, i am about to put my cold feets on you.”

!! 🦈| gets out of hands when he’s too excited

!! 🦈| gives you back hugs when you’re not feeling well

!! 🦈| best caregiver 🥺

!! 🦈| adores you

!! 🦈| play games with you :)

!! 🦈| sends you stupid note under the door whenever you’re taking a shit-

Reiko Yanagi

!! 👻|| you managed to get on her soft side when you told her that she wasn’t weird in any ways

!! 👻|| very quiet and patient with you

!! 👻|| really doesn’t wish to disturb or scare you, but she can’t let go of you — you were so nice

!! 👻|| when you tease her.. she’s a blushing mess

!! 👻|| you’re the only person she hangs most of her time with

!! 👻||she thinks that you’re so, so cool.

!! 👻|| doesn’t know how to react to all of your compliments, just knows how to cuddle

!! 👻|| she makes you listen to her favorite genre of music

!! 👻|| she tries her best to make your relationship with her dynamic as possible!

!! 👻|| with that say, praising is one of her top quality

!! 👻|| as much as she doesn’t know how to handle your praise, she can slap you back with her

!! 👻||”hey.. how abour we kiss? uh- um.. if- if you want to.”

!! 👻|| is actually a good kisser-

!! 👻|| her only way to calm you down was to kiss you when you get overwhelmed

!! 👻|| reiko is a really good listener and would literally listen to your 5 hours long story as she stare at you the whole time

!! 👻|| when you mention that her bags were really cool… good job bro, now she loves you

!! 👻|| SHE’S SO CLINGY, LIKE REALLY CLINGY

!! 👻|| unexpectedly good in video games

!! 👻|| “w-whoa.. i didn’t expected you to wear my clothes..you look adorable..”

!! 👻|| gets truly passionate when talking about paranormal facts

!! 👻|| she loves to play with the strands of your hair

!! 👻|| quality time <<<<<<<<

!! 👻|| would always remind you how beautiful you are

!! 👻|| once you have her sweater wrapped around your body, it’s officially yours now because she says so

!! 👻|| soft spokesperson with you bro..

!! 👻|| seems more confident when texting

!! 👻|| she loves taking pictures of you

!! 👻|| she probably wanted to make you visit the beach during the sunset

!! 👻|| she’s so proud of you..

!! 👻|| “oh, you deserve all of the praises of the world.”

!! 👻|| can’t even look at you in the eyes,, you’re so CUTE!!

!! 👻|| never leave you alone, never will or would

!! 👻|| always grips on your shirt so that you don’t get to be lost in a mission

!! 👻|| regularly checks up on you

!! 👻|| gives you LOADS of snacks during lunch

Setsuna Tokage

!! 🐊| COMMITTED IN THE RELATIONSHIP

!! 🐊| literally takes you out everywhere on ya’ll date

!! 🐊| don’t be shy, skateboard with her

!! 🐊| literally asks to be partnered up with you during the sport festivals

!! 🐊| will do everything for you

!! 🐊| have a reptile pet, you’re the only person knowing about that

!! 🐊| CHERISH YOU UNTIL SHE DIES

!! 🐊| “my sweet sweet pumpkin pie!”

!! 🐊| “let me kiss you until you can’t handle me anymore, darling.”

!! 🐊| she loves snuggling to your neck and leave soft kisses

!! 🐊| eyes contact is important

!! 🐊| you’re her favourite person

!! 🐊| ya’ll be ruining your sleep schedule for each other

!! 🐊| you guys always wear something that matches with the other (a hat, item, shirt.. etc.)

!! 🐊| setsuna announces her relationship with you to the class as if she proposed to you in a mariage

aight ya’ll, bye!

121 notes · View notes

sweaterkittensahoy · 3 years

Note

I don't really fancy established relationships but i love drawn out onesided pining, so maybe something about seeing Lestrade at work at the station or at a crime scene, being the right mix of disheveled & professional

(You and I are very different people; but I will do my very best because a good pining is a fun time)

Mycroft stands at the edge of the scene and twitches when the first few raindrops hit his collar. He opens his umbrella without thinking and lifts it to protect him as his gaze falls back to the scene.

Or, Lestrade on the scene, to be more correct.

He's standing several dozen meters away, lit up by the high-powered mobile lights from forensics. His shirt is in a state, wrinkled and creased. This is his third scene in nineteen hours, Mycroft knows, because this is the third scene he has been to as well. Someone is targeting informants to some of Mycroft's lower colleagues, and they're moving swiftly. Mycroft's people, led by Anthea, are working the angles they have. Sherlock is buried in information to find the angles they do not see. Lestrade is doing what he does the very best: being the boots on the ground.

Mycroft watches Lestrade yawn hugely, then turn and say something to a tech that makes the tired man flash him a brief, amused smile. Lestrade scrubs a hand over his hair, then looks up, squinting as the rain hits his face. It's nothing more than a light misting, truly, but Mycroft steps forward anyway, pleased at the people who nod at him in recognition. Lestrade had been insistent that his people know Mycroft on sight so he could move as easily as needed at these particular scenes, and Mycroft appreciates as always how well Lestrade understands what people need.

"Detective Inspector," Mycroft says when he's a few meters away. Out of Lestrade's personal space but close enough to be easily heard.

Lestrade holds up a finger. "Two ticks," he says, flashing Mycroft a quick look to see his agreeing nod.

Mycroft watches Lestrade walk over to Donovan and have a brief conversation. The tension in her shoulders loosens minutely, and she flicks Lestrade on the chest in a friendly fashion that makes him grin.

Oh, that grin, Mycroft thinks. Such a dangerous weapon on the wrong man. Possibly even more dangerous on the right one.

Lestrade squats down to look at what Anderson is photographing, then he's back on his feet, working his way across the scene to the constables keeping watch at the tape. He says a few words, hands three cigarettes to one of them, laughs quietly at some reply, then leaves them to their work.

Mycroft is somehow certain the constable only requested a single cigarette, but Lestrade would never hand over one when he has several. It is yet another sign of the goodness of his heart. The goodness of the man.

"Mycroft," Lestrade says when he finishes his circuit and comes to a stop in front of Mycroft, hands jammed in the pockets of his trousers, his coat pushed back off his hips due to the stance. It makes him one very lovely masculine line from the top of his head to the tips of his shoes. The mist is just starting to flatten his hair, but the water makes it glimmer, and Mycroft cannot believe how devastating the mere existence of this man is to his being.

"I was going to offer you a bit of protection," Mycroft says, tipping his umbrella slightly forward. "But I am not sure you'll feel its use now that you've gotten damp."

Lestrade takes his hands out of his pockets and shakes his coat by its lapels. Water droplets fly off to the sides. "Waterproof," he says, "so I'm pretty dry overall. But I wouldn't say no to a little head protection while we compare notes."

"Certainly," Mycroft says. He steps forward at the same time as Greg, and they meet perfectly centered under Mycroft's umbrella. For a moment, all Mycroft can catalogue is the warmth that radiates from Greg's torso, the tiny cut on his chin where he nicked himself shaving, the scent of bitter, burned coffee that clings to his collar.

"Same as the others," Lestrade says, reaching up and pushing his hair backwards through his fingers. It makes it stick up more.

Mycroft gets a brief hint of mint and lavender shampoo mixed with the smell of new rain, and oh, that's new. The addition of the water to that smell that Mycroft has known for what feels like a very long time. This is what Lestrade would smell like in the shower, Mycroft thinks, and then blinks the thought away. "Stabbed through the back of the neck with signs of torture pre-death?" Mycroft asks to keep his mind focused on the present.

Lestrade sighs deeply, and there's sadness in his eyes. He feels every death he investigates, Mycroft knows, but he also carries that weight with a grace that Mycroft has very rarely seen. It is cousin to the grace Lestrade has that has him taking a moment to cheer his team. To give three cigarettes to a random constable. A relation to the grace Lestrade showed Sherlock and then Mycroft the day they all met.

Mycroft has been unquestionably and foolishly in love for a very long time. There is no other way to be in the face of a grace so casual given by a man so effortlessly beautiful.

"Yeah," Lestrade says. "How's it going on your side of things?"

"No updates, I'm afraid. And nothing from Sherlock."

Lestrade quirks a smile, then a small, dry laugh. "So, he has nothing, or he's hared off and doing something stupid."

"I would hope Dr. Watson would inform us if that were happening, but he is...occasionally unreliable."

Lestrade smiles at Mycroft, wide and amused, the flash of happiness in his eyes making Mycroft feel like he can't breathe at all. "John's entirely reliable. He will always be by Sherlock's side when he's being a fucking berk."

Mycroft huffs a laugh. There's warm annoyance and fondness in Lestarde's tone. Signs of friendship and care. Of sincere concern and affection. "I cannot argue against your accurate description."

The rain suddenly comes down harder, switching from mist to a proper downpour. There's shouts of displeasure from the scene techs, all rushing to try and preserve what they can. Mycroft is not surprised that Lestrade does not dart away to help. He is a man with a keen sense of when he's useful versus when he's not, and he will only be in the way as the techs rush with precise teamwork to cover the scene in sheeting.

"Shit," Lestrade mutters, pulling his coat around him and tying it closed. "I know we haven't found fuck-all at the other scenes, but the possibility we just lost something is going to hit the team right in morale."

"You will overcome it," Mycroft says. "Your people knows you will not blame them."

Lestrade looks at Mycroft, gaze flittering over his face. Mycroft stays still, allowing his face to stay open and readable. There's a shift to Lestarde's gaze when their eyes meet. From curious to pleased, and then from pleased to...Mycroft isn't quite sure.

Or, he is sure but he fears that to put a name to what he's seeing will mean it will go away.

Lestrade takes a half-step forward, just enough that they're truly close together under the protection of Mycroft's umbrella. "What do you see when you stand here and watch me?" he asks.

Mycroft takes a moment to answer. His heart is thundering in his chest louder than the rain hitting the umbrella just above their heads. "Everything," he finally says because it's the truest answer.

Lestrade nods slowly. He glances over his shoulder and takes in the scene. "Scene's basically useless now," he says. "But I need to check a few more things. When I'm done," Lestrade turns to look at Mycroft again, "me and you, let's get a pint. Warm ourselves up a bit and get a breather. Been a rough couple of days."

Lestrade's face tells Mycroft everything. It's not just a pint. Not just a chance to wind down with someone who understands the strain of being in charge. It's exactly what Mycroft saw and was afraid to name. Hope. Interest. Curiosity. Warmth.

"I'll wait in my car," Mycroft says. He tips the umbrella towards Greg. "Please make use of this."

Greg takes the umbrella. He gives Mycroft one more warm look, the hint of a smile, and then a sharp nod. "Ta," he says and walks away.

The way his shoulders and back straighten as he makes his way back to Donovan makes Mycroft feel warm even as the rain drenches him. He'd relaxed with Mycroft, comfortable to show a bit more of himself.

Mycroft walks briskly to his car, ignoring Anthea's amused look when she sees how wet he is. She shifts her umbrella so it covers them both.

"Any change, Sir?" Anthea asks.

Mycroft snorts at the utter flatness of her tone. Anthea cuts him an amused look. "Not in regards to leads," he says and lets her read on his face that, yes, there has been one change.

"Shall I fetch your spare suit from the boot?"

Mycroft glances over his shoulder. Greg has left the umbrella with Donovan and is making his way around without it. Were he a Renaissance painting, Mycroft thinks, his grace would glow around him like a lantern. "I am sure the heat in the car will be adequate," he says. He will never have Greg's grace, but he is very curious to try it on in some small way. They'll both be disheveled and damp when they sit down for their pint. It warms Mycroft to think of it.

"Very good," Anthea says with a blank look that laughs at his romantic fancy as she opens the door. "I assume we are waiting for the Detective Inspector to join us."

"Yes," Mycroft says. "Thank you."

#mystrade #greg lestrade #mycroft holmes #ask #answer #get together #sort of #i hope this is enough pining!#anthea

115 notes · View notes

chuckbass-love · 3 years

Note

May I request a Ransom x Y/n fic where he goes to a pub after being taken out of the will and he see's y/n at a table crying because she's just been dumped

I love this idea!!

A/N: Just a heads up, i’m keeping the events of the movie in this where he goes back to the house to switch the medication and then have him go to the pub after that.

Disclaimer: My work is not to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad or Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Lots of angst, alludes to smut at first and then pure smutty filth. Fingering, oral (m and f receiving), protected sex, daddy kink, ass slapping and fluff overload. Heavy alcohol use, swearing and alludes to murder (the plot from the movie).

Word Count: 8,770

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @roooogers go check them out💜

Shoulder To Cry On

“Please, Anthony. Please. Don’t do this” your voice shaking with the fear of losing the one person who you assumed would always be around. Your brain trying to register everything he’s just said as tears drown your vision out causing everything to go blurry.

Weak body, silent screams and shaky hands. It’s real. But it doesn’t feel real. It feels like a dream. Like if someone were to pinch you now then you’d wake up and feel fine. But that’s far from your reality.

“You’re making a scene Y/N, everyone’s looking” he looks around him, watching on as everyone stares in your direction, enjoying the free show as they dine.

Is he serious?

“Me making a scene? You chose to do this here in front of everyone, knowing full well how i’d react” the anger coming out, the need to scream consuming you, so you do. You yell. You pick the food up in front of you and throw it at him. Bread, prawns, even your red wine.

“How could you do this to me? You fucking cheating scumbag” bottom lip trembling at the words leaving your mouth, the sick feeling working its way through your body and eventually settling in the back of your throat but you stop it.

You had plans for a lovely anniversary dinner tonight. Your boyfriend of 4 years Anthony. The man you’ve always seen yourself marrying and tonight, you thought was the night. That he’d finally get down on one knee and propose. But that was soon ripped away from you the moment the starters arrived.

He started his little speech about how he’s had the best time over the last 4 years with you, the memories you’ve made together.

Then came the moment that everyone dreads. The breakup speech.

He confessed to not feeling as happy as he once did with you and then he admitted to having a connection with some woman at work. His assistant. Jennifer.

And as much as he played it off like nothing happened, you’ve known him long enough now to see all of the tell tale signs. The way he rubs his ear lobe, the way he avoids your eyes and most importantly the way he stutters when he’s nervous.

His face has guilt and cheater written all over it. Your whole world feels like it’s crumbling around you and everything is a mess. Including your mascara.

You always had your suspicions about Jennifer but he was the perfect liar, a genius at concocting up excuses. The way he’d make your mind do a full 180 with your thoughts and feelings. Just like a magician tricking the audience. He pulled the wool right over your eyes and love enabled that, stopped you from asking all the questions that you should have thought to ask.

It’s like now, everything he ever said to you, all the happy memories and plans you made. They all seem so fake, like he never meant any of it. It’s gut wrenching. Sickening.

He’s a beautiful liar. He did it so effortlessly. Getting into bed next to you after no doubt being with her, touching her in the places he was only ever supposed to touch you.

But before you can even get to him, the restaurant staff make their way over, trying to remove you from the scene but you don’t even give them the chance.

“I’m going. Don’t fucking touch me” you hold your hands up, slipping your coat on and grabbing your purse.

“I hope one day you’ll experience how you’ve made me feel tonight” and that’s the last thing you ever said to him, picking your stuff up to leave.

All that anger and hurt eventually brought you here, the bar right round the corner from your house. You couldn’t bare the thought of even going home right away, let alone stepping foot in there. It’s too soon.

The house that’s jam packed with memories of the two of you. Photographs of you. The bed you’ve slept in every night with him for 2 years. Your skin itches.

That’s when you see someone sit down next to you at the bar but you don’t look. He still notices you though. Ogling you as he sips at his whiskey. The way your dress hugs your figure, the slit up the side, exposing your legs.

You hear his thick Boston accent ordering. Still refusing to turn your head. You really don’t want any bother tonight. You just need to drown him out. Drown out the way he smells, the way he touches you, the feel of his huge hands all over your skin.

Ransom doesn’t stop though, stealing glances here and there at you, trying to figure out the perfect chat up line to dish out. Then it comes to him, no chat up lines needed.

“What’s brought a beautiful girl like you here tonight then?”

The smirk that appears on his face comes out in his words, you can hear it but you’re really not in the mood so you order another drink, ignoring the stranger.

But the second you speak up, your voice giving your state away, causing Ransom’s head to shoot up, leaning closer to get a better look and that’s when he sees it. Your eyes that are filled with tears, the way you’re sniffles follow shortly after they fall.

“Wait, are you okay?” Genuine concern in his voice, not wanting to upset you even more by prodding too much.

“I’m fine” you spit, just wanting to be left alone to wallow. To over evaluate everything that’s gone down tonight. But that’s kind of hard to do with this man talking non stop.

“You don’t look fine”

“That’s because i don’t need nor want anyones pity” ouch.

“Who said i was pitying you?” he rolls his eyes, not even sure on what’s turned you so cold or should he say who. But he tried. Which isn’t usually in his nature.

See the events that lead Ransom to that little bar are slightly different to yours but nevertheless, he’s here with you so it doesn’t necessarily matter. The story should probably be told anyway though.

All was going so well in his world earlier today, he was happy as Larry, living off of his Grandfather, taking all he could get from him. He had everything. A bachelor pad that puts his friends one to shame, a beamer, scantily clad women at the click of his fingers and invitations to all the best parties in Boston. He was the most notorious playboy, everyone knows him.

The moment he stepped foot into his Grandfathers study, nothing was ever going to be same once he left. And that’s a fact.

Harlan broke the news about his will. How he changed it recently. Leaving his nurse Marta Cabrera with everything. Every. Last. Dime.

Meaning Ransom and his family will be pushed out of the mansion and Walt will be kicked to the curb when it came to Harlans publishing company, Blood Like Wine.

He argued with Harlan for what felt like forever, tried his best to plead his case and he even resulted to taking a threatening tone to his beloved Grandfather. Which of course, didn’t work. Leaving him angry, furious even. His blood was well and truly boiling. He’d had it. He couldn’t hear another word of that bullshit. So he stormed out. Bidding his great nana a swift goodbye in the form of resting his hand over her arm.

Once in his beamer, he screamed. Smacking the wheel with all of his might before stepping on it, pulling out the space and up the driveway. He had to get out of there and fast.

But halfway up the drive, he slams on the breaks when an idea begins to form, causing him to turn around. Parking away from the mansion first before creeping his way back in.

He climbs the wall at the side of it, up to the secret window that he discovered in his childhood. Once he’s in he finds Marta’s medical bag, opening it and switching his grandfathers meds, making sure to take out the one saving grace that could ruin his perfect plan.

With that secured in his pocket, the bag is zipped back up and placed back where he found it and he’s leaving the same way he came. Back down the side of the house but before he can make a quick run for it, he sees his great nana in the window. Staring at him, without blinking. He waits to see if she’ll speak but she never does, so he turns to leave, making it back to his beamer without a single person catching him. Great nana doesn’t count, there’s a very slim chance that she didn’t even know it was him. After all, she didn’t say a word.

All done now though, the plan is now in full swing. Soon Marta will take Harlan up to bed to give him his medicine. That’s when she’ll give him the overdose on morphine. Or the good stuff as they like to call it.

And eventually it’ll start to come together.

Marta will get arrested for Harlan’s murder, the money and all of the assets that were once hers will be stripped away and they shall all be returned to their rightful owners. His family and him of course. One thing that should be made abundantly clear about Ransom is that he’ll only ever help or get involved when there’s something in it for him. However, he’s not always evil, he has a soft side, it rarely comes out but make no mistake, it’s there alright.

With his evil plan in place, he heads back home but before he even gets there, he passes a quaint little bar at the side of the road. He could really do with a drink right now. Of course a taxi home will be required but with thousands about to grace his bank account, what’s 10 or more dollars on taxi fairs. Exactly, it’s pittance to him.

The second he enters, all eyes are on him. All but two. Your eyes. You’re sat at the bar, head in your hands and from what he can see, you’re dressed all fancy. Too fancy for this place that’s for sure. So he makes his way over, noticing the disgusted looks out of the corner of his eye. He’s never been here before, so of course he’s the newbie to all of the regulars.

That then leads to now.

You turn to face him, your sad eyes meeting his dreamy ones. The only way to describe them. You find yourself on the verge of getting lost before you break the gaze. Nodding towards the barman who slides another shot over to you to which you knock back like it’s nothing before continuing to sip Gin.

Just one look from you and he can see that something isn’t right.

“What’s got you crying all on your lonesome?”

“More like who” you respond, chuckling as more tears fall.

He opens his mouth to speak but you cut him off “i had the lovely pleasure of being dumped tonight” you muster up your best fake smile, as if somehow acting like everything is okay will suddenly make it all okay for real. But it’s no use, you still feel torn to pieces. Your heart is still on the floor, it’s been stomped on way too many times for you to count on two hands and you’re life is a complete shambles.

He doesn’t love you, Y/N. He doesn’t love you anymore but then again, did he ever?

“I’m sorry to hear that and for what it’s worth, the guys a jackass for doing that to you”

His comment has your brows furrowing in question. What does he mean by that? But you don’t even get a chance to ask, he can sense your confusion a mile away.

“I just meant that you’re gorgeous. He’s a fool” his nice side coming out to play, he’s never this nice to a woman unless he plans to sleep with her. But this time, it’s different. You’re different. He can never bring himself to pray on you like one of those other girls. Because he can see it, that you’re drained. You’ve had enough. Your ex made a fool of you enough already so who is he to add to that?

“Yeah right, he cheated so i doubt that very much” you snort, knocking back the rest of your drink.

At this point the bartender doesn’t even need you to ask for another, he’s probably realised by now that he should keep them coming.

“What an asshole”

Why does he care? He’s just a stranger. But still, you agree with him.

“Yup”

And just like that, a conversation blossoms.

Drinks flow as you explain the events of tonight and he doesn’t interrupt you. He just lets you speak, it’s almost like he can sense that you just need someone to listen, like all you need is to let out all of your emotions. Even if it is to a complete stranger.

Who by the way isn’t bad in the looks department.

Wait. No. You can’t think that.

Surely it’s fine to think it, just as long as you don’t act on it. Although, you are available now so there would be no harm.

“So let me get this straight. The man took you to dinner for your 4 year anniversary, let you get all dolled up, makeup, hair, nails. The works. Just to break it off with you and tell you he’s met someone else?” his brows raising and you nod, ashamed of how you’ve been treated because ultimately, you really did look like the idiot tonight.

You bought an expensive dress just for this very occasion and you did look the best you’ve ever looked. Radiant and glowing. Your makeup was on point, as was your hair. But now, you’ve got mascara everywhere and you’re way over the line of tipsy.

“I don’t get it. You’re well, you. I mean look at you and he left this for another woman? It makes no sense. There’s no way i’d ever give you up. No chance. No way” the way you feel your cheeks warm at his obvious compliment. You’re almost certain that he’s sweet talking you now. It took him a total of 2 hours. And he finally gave it a go. But you’re not complaining.

“LAST ORDERS” the bartender pulls you from your thoughts. That’s when you turn to look at him, still not knowing the perfect strangers name.

“Um, i guess i should get going” the very sentence makes that sick feeling come back but just like earlier, you push it away, stopping it before it comes spewing out on the bar. There would have been no time to run to the bathroom.

“I guess i should too” he smiles softly, shrugging his coat on and standing up.

That’s when the height difference is clear. He towers over you, making you feel small and dainty.

He gestures for you to head out first and as you glance back over your shoulder, you see him sliding some money to the bartender. No doubt, he paid for all of those drinks that you forgot to even pay for. Fuck.

These heels are way too high and your vision blurs a little as you stumble out the door but before you can even fall to the ground and face plant, he catches you, lifting you up and walking you over to what looks like a taxi.

“Come on you, let’s get you home. Where’d you live?”

Your mind goes blank as you stare at him before muttering “i don’t want to go home, i can’t go home. He’ll be there. Don’t make”

He cuts you off, pulling you closer to him and giving the cabbie his address instead. Wait. His place?

“I guess i should probably tell you my name being as you’re gonna be in my house soon huh?” he chuckles, spurring your own laughing fit.

“Do tell, mystery man”

“Ransom”

“I don’t have any money to pay you, not that i need to anyways, just tell me your name”

“No, no. My name is Ransom” his laughter fills your ears.

Strange name. Strange man.

“Surely not”

“Sure is. Well technically it’s my middle name. But i really can’t reveal anymore than that”

“Well i’m Y/N by the way and can i just say, you smell amazing” ah, the part where you make an utter show of yourself by leaning closer and closer, until your face is inches from his neck. That’s when you inhale really dramatically. Getting a good whiff of his manly scent. It’s intoxicating.

Luckily for you, he takes it all in good humour, probably because you’re drunk.

The rest of the ride back to his consists of you getting overly touchy, making random comments and with Ransom being the playboy that he is, it’s a real struggle for him not to fuck you here and now. Even in front of the cabbie. It wouldn’t be the worst place he’s fucked.

Yes you’re drunk but your hands are roaming to places they shouldn’t be and now he can feel a situation forming in the shape of a huge hard on.

Not that you notice, you’re too wrapped up in your own drunken state, blissfully unaware.

He can’t fuck you anyway. You’re too drunk. He’ll have to sober you up first.

The taxi comes to a halt and you look out of the windows, noticing a huge house, too posh for the likes of you but clearly fitting for a man like Ransom. He pays the cabbie before getting out.

You sit there clueless until you feel him scoop you up in his arms. He kicks the the door shut, walking the both of you to his house. He fiddles around in his pocket, holding you up with one arm so that he can open it and put you down on the couch.

“Is this your place?”

“It is indeed”

“It’s so big”

He lays you down, pointing his index finger in your face as he warns you “stay here, okay? Don’t move”

The child in you starts to emerge, the pout and puppy dog eyes coming out “yes sir”. You salute him and watch him strut away.

When he returns, his coat is off and he’s just in his white shirt, grey cardigan and his slacks.

“Here, drink this, it’ll help”

“Ew what is this?” your face screws up, disgusted at the taste “are you trying to poison me?”

“It’s just water, don’t be so dramatic. Drink it”

“What if i wanted another drink”

He just shakes his head disapprovingly. You’re really having none of it and he can’t fuck you like this. He makes it his mission to make sure all the women he’s with can actually remember what’s going on. Plus he needs your consent first.

“Drink. I won’t tell you again” his scary side showing just a tad but he soon shuts that off, realising how bossy and intimidating he sounds “wait, sorry, i didn’t mean to scare you”

Shouting and confrontation has always scared you. You’ve always had this natural instinct to cower and hide.

But this time, all you can really do is back up, to the other end of the couch.

“You’re just really drunk and it’s not doing you any good. Especially with everything that you’ve gone through tonight” wow. He’s even surprised himself with that one.

It’s not that he doesn’t care about you or your feelings because he most certainly does. He’s liked being there for you tonight, even if you did start out as two strangers at a bar. It distracted him from his own drama filled life. But your freaky side was showing on the taxi ride over and it awakened something inside of him.

Not in the way that some may think. Sure he’d love nothing more than to fuck you senseless, make you forget everything even if it’s just for the night but most importantly. He felt something more than just lust when you were touching him.

And as strange as that is to admit, it felt amazing. Like fucking you wouldn’t just be for the sake of it. You wouldn’t just be another notch on his bed post. It’s almost like his heart knows something that his brain doesn’t know yet.

Eventually he gets you to slowly sip at the water until half of it is gone and then the whole thing. You’re still tipsy but a little better than you were before the water.

“Did you want any food? I could order in? It might help?”

“I mean i did sort of throw my prawn starter at my ex”

He can’t contain his laughter, leaning back on the couch and throwing a hand over his left boob. You really are hilarious to him. He’s so amused by you and he doesn’t ever want this night to end. Even if it doesn’t end in sex, which it will. He’d be satisfied.

Something that Ransom Drysdale would never ever think or say.

“So food then?”

You nod before shaking your head aggressively.

“Actually no. No food. I already feel like i’m going to hurl. Food will just make that worse”

He seconds that, taking your empty glass from your hands and disappearing to refill it before returning it to you.

“You best drink up then if you aren’t planning to eat”

So you do as he says, stopping after a couple of sips due to your eyes noticing more and more about him that you never noticed before. Like his slicked back hair, his broad shoulders and oh shit. Is that a boner?

It’s gotta be right.

Your still tipsy self hands him the water for him to place on the coffee table for you and that’s when you do the unexpected. You make your way over to him, sitting way too close. Your bare arms rubbing against the soft and thin material of his cardigan.

“You alright?”

The way he acts like he cares, which, he does. It’s soothing, the gentle tone in his voice. The way he’s treating you like you’re glass and he doesn’t want to break you. And he’d be right, because you are delicate. Not your body of course but your heart, your soul, your mind. Not that there’s much left of your heart after Anthony broke it.

“I’m okay, i’ll be better after i get this dress off though” the flirty side of you starts to make an appearance. You look down, twiddling your thumbs as he clears his throat, clearly didn’t expect a comment like that.

“I guess i could fetch some of my clothes for you to wear?” his suggestion, whilst very cute and gentleman like, isn’t what you were after. And he’s far from a gentleman. You can just tell.

“I don’t think you understood” you turn around, back facing him “i need some help. Please” eyelashes batting as you quickly look over your shoulder at him and seconds later, you feel his hand move your hair to the side.

The zipper glides down with ease causing the straps to fall down your arms and soon enough. You stand up, letting it fall into a puddle on the floor. Leaving you in nothing but your matching blue laced, bra and panties set. Along with your heels of course. It’s the set that you bought for tonight too. For the sex you never ended up getting.

For the first time ever, Ransom is rendering on speechless, his mouth waters at the most incredible sight in front of him and he can tell from that look in your eyes that you want him.

Something he never expected to happen so fast. That’s when you sit back down next to him, resting your hand on his thigh.

“You know i should really thank you for tonight”

“Honestly, it was nothing” his words are aimed at you whilst his eyes are fixated on your body, not even trying to hide it from you but you just lap it up. You could use some attention right now. After all, your confidence was knocked with your ex boyfriend’s revelation.

“No, really. It was nice. You’ve been amazing. So let me thank you” but before your lips can touch his, he pulls back. Looking at you as his hand caresses your cheek, staring into your eyes like he’s looking into your soul and you feel close to naked in more ways than one.

That’s when his lips crash to yours in an intense and very heated kiss. As his hands roam around your half naked figure, you position them at the back of your bra, signalling to him that you want him to remove it. Which of course, he does.

He pulls away for a couple of seconds, taking a moment to look at your breasts. And the way he cups them with his large hands before using his thumb and index fingers to pinch at your now hard nipples, has you moaning into the kiss. Leaving your lips parted just enough for his tongue to slip in, adding to the build up.

The battle for dominance begins and it goes back and forth between you both, your hunger is very much profound. As is Ransom’s. The moans he’s eliciting are almost porn star like and he’s barely even touched you. But that’s the beauty of it, it feels so good that you’re keening for more. Which earns a low and raspy chuckle.

It doesn’t take long before you’re straddling him, legs either side with your hands cupping his face. His hands rested on your waist, squeezing slightly, almost like he’s making sure you don’t go anywhere. And after the day he’s had. He needs someone, whether he admits it or not. He does.

But that’s all he’s ever wanted. Is someone. Someone to talk to, someone who will listen and be there. He can’t complain about how that’s not the case though, he’s brought it all on himself. The loneliness, it’s killing him but he chooses to push everyone away.

His family though, that’s all them. They made him this way. A scheming, money grabbing playboy. It doesn’t mean the facade doesn’t drop once he’s all alone though.

However, it never drops around others. So why is it dropping around you?

“God, i needed this” he pants, in between his kisses that he’s peppering from your lips to your jawline and then your neck. It takes him next to no time at all to find the one spot that drives you insane and when he notices the way your whole body shivers. He smirks, sucking and biting it along with the equal amount of wet kisses.

“Me too. Fuck, right there” you mewl, back arching in his hands as they splay across it before moving down to settle on your panties. His finger traces the top of them, following them as it dips into your ass before giving your ass cheeks a hard smack.

God if this is how incredible you feel just kissing and touching the man then sex must be a real first place prize.

Just the way he’s handling your body alone is enough to send you over that sweet cliff but you stop it, holding back by pushing his face away from your skin, interrupting the hickey he was clearly in the middle of making.

“I wasn’t done with you, come back here”

You stop him again “i need you” you whisper frantically, both of your chests rising and falling. Your heart is beating like crazy.

“Patience baby” he winks, standing up with you in his arms, legs wrapped around his waist and your arms holding onto his broad shoulders for support as he carries you up the stairs and into what looks like his room.

Before you even have time to pause for so much as a second, he throws you to the bed.

“I wanna take my sweet little time with you” he starts, the bed dips as he gets on it, hovering above you “gonna worship every inch of your body” he lowers himself so that he can kiss your lips, then your jawline, then your neck and then eventually, the valley between your breasts.

“Gonna show you what your worth baby, prove to you that you’re better than that scum who didn’t treat you the way you deserve” also something that’s unlike Ransom. But if there’s one thing he’s a pro at, it’s pleasuring a woman. He knows what the fuck he’s doing. He can talk the talk and walk the walk. Which he’s about to prove to you right now.

He lowers himself down to your sex, the way the pool is growing more and more is obvious, he can smell it and even see it, the way the light blue material has darkened around your tight hole.

You spread your legs open wider, your way of inviting him in. Of course he accepts. He starts off by pressing a thumb down onto your clit, moving it around in circles and causing you to jolt. You’ve been craving someone, anyone at this point to touch you there. Maybe that should have been a sign that things were doomed with you and Anthony since he’s not touched you in months. Maybe that was a sign you should have seen, a red flag that you were too blind to notice.

“Look at you, so flustered already. God i can’t wait to fuck you”

“Please” you beg, pathetically.

“Nuh uh baby, i told you i wanna take my time, starting with this pretty little pussy” he hooks his fingers into the hem, using that to pull them down and off of your legs before throwing them behind him, not caring where they land.

“My oh my, it is a pretty little pussy, isn’t it. God you’re soaked baby, all this for me?”

“All for you” your confirmation leads him to lick his lips before pressing a couple of open mouthed kisses to the inside of your thighs.

“That man is an idiot. But i guess his loss is my gain. Ain’t that right baby” he winks as his kisses get closer and closer to your arousal covered hole.

“Ransom, plea- OH FUCK” his mouth latches onto your clit, sucking as his tongue flicks across it rapidly. A sensation you’ve never felt before that makes your breathing hitch, your hands run through his locks, no doubt messing them up, not that he’s showing any signs of caring.

All that Ransom cares about right now is making you feel good, making you cum.

“Like this baby? Like my mouth all over you?” his eyes meet yours as he uses his fingers to spread you open so that he can really get a good eyeful “you’re dripping” he murmurs, almost like he’s talking to himself and not to you. He slowly slides one finger in before resuming his attention on your folds and your bundle of nerves.

“More, i need more. I need you” as flattered as he is by your desperation and need to feel every inch of his thick cock, he has to prepare you. Most of the women he’s been with have never had someone as big as him before, so he always likes to get them ready and you are no exception.

“Patience baby, you’ll have me. All in good time”

His raspy voice has you melting alone and the way he’s working you over, slipping a second digit in, should be criminal. How can a man like this be single and alone? It makes no sense. Plus it doesn’t hurt that he’s loaded too.

It’s a mystery that you’ll be sure to get to the bottom of once you’re done here.

A third finger is added and he’s curling them all more and more each time he bottoms out, your back arches again, your grip on his hair gets tighter. But he doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t stop. Not even for a second. He’s a man on a mission right now.

The way he’s sucking on your clit, the way his fingers are filling you up and the way he’s slurping at you like a drink is something you’ll never and could never compare to anything you’ve ever experienced. He’s a literal god and he has your walls fluttering around him, your clit pulsating in his mouth.

“Feel the way your squeezing me baby, you gonna cum? Huh? Gonna cum all over my fingers” the pure filth that he’s spewing, is what has you coming face to face with stars. And Ransom can feel the way your hips bucks up into his face, the way your hands keep him locked there until they are pushing him away due to how sensitive you are. He doesn’t budge though.

He just laps at your sex again and again before finally withdrawing his fingers, noticing your slick coating them and dripping down his hand.

“Jesus, looks like somebody made a mess”

You can’t help the way your cheeks warm in embarrassment which he soon puts to bed by stuffing his fingers in his mouth to clean them off. Every last drop.

That’s when he takes it upon himself to drink directly from you, sticking his tongue into the honey pot, taking everything you have to offer “god so fucking sweet. I can’t get enough baby, tastes so fucking good”

A flirtatious giggle escapes, your hands covering your mouth but he rips them away.

“Don’t ever feel embarrassed or shy around me”

“Are you gonna fuck me now?” your teeth bite at your bottom lip as you shiver with the anticipation of what’s to come from him. His silence is deadly but exciting.

“Indeed i am”

He can most likely hear your heart race as he pulls away, getting off of the bed to undress himself. Starting with his cardigan and shirt. Once it’s off, his abs are revealed, his biceps are huge. You have the biggest urge to kiss him all over that chiseled body, sculpted by some kind of god. He’s gotta be a fantasy.

“But first baby” he trails off, pulling his slacks down and stepping out of them “you’re gonna suck my cock, get it nice and hard with that mouth of yours before i ram it into that tight little cunt” he pulls his boxers down, stepping out of them too and kicking both to the side before stalking closer.

You gulp, your eyes widen... he’s huge. Really huge. Thick too. Does he even need your mouth?

“What’s the matter baby? Is someone intimidated?”

“No” your denial, whilst very cute, isn’t believable. But he’s still going to let you have a go at wrapping that mouth around it.

You scoot off of the bed and fall to your knees, feeling even more dainty than you did before when he was towering over you like a giant.

“Don’t be shy baby, get to work”

Your hand wraps around him with your thumb swiping the pre cum that’s oozed out of the slit and you immediately pop your thumb into your mouth. You just want a small taste and as soon as the salty-sweet droplet hits your tongue. You all of a sudden crave more of it.

“Nice?” he asks, cocking a brow up “delicious” you smile, adding to his already blown up ego.

You gradually welcome him into your mouth, opening wider as each inch passes your lips until he’s almost bottomed out. That’s when you open wider and his tip hits the back of your throat making you gag, saliva dripping from the corners of your mouth.

“You look so good taking all of me in that mouth, bet you’ll look even better when you’re taking me in that cunt”

Is he trying to kill you with his dirty talk? Most likely.

He’s a different man to the guys you normally go for. Maybe that’s where you’ve gone wrong. You’ve let yourself settle for mediocre sex, mediocre relationships and maybe that’s why you’ve never been truly happy, like happy to your very core. You’ve never fully believed that you deserve the world. Never known your worth.

He grips the sides of your head, stilling your movements so his can begin and he doesn’t go easy. His thrusts have you making an even bigger mess, more saliva dripping down from your face to the floor. He’s loving every second of it though. But soon enough, just as quick as he started, he stops. Pulling out and looking at you, content with what he sees.

“God you’re fucking beautiful like this, on your knees for me like a good girl. Get on the bed baby” you do as you’re told, sprawling out on the bed and waiting for him to join which of course he does. As soon as he gets a condom out, taking it from the wrapper and sliding it down his shaft. Size XL. You spy before he tosses the wrapper into the bin.

“You ready?” he asks, resting his tip between your legs and lowering his body so that he can slide his arms underneath your shoulder blades. His face inches from yours.

“Please, i need you now” and with that he slides home, not stopping to let you adjust to every inch as it comes. You can feel your pussy stretching, the way it stings slightly but it also feels incredible. It’s bliss.

“S’tight baby and s’warm. Feel that pussy stretching around my cock”

Your eyes roll back as your head lolls to the side, presenting your neck to him and giving him the opportunity to finish what he started earlier, which of course he does.

And the second is lips are on your skin, his pace picks up and the pain turns to pleasure. You feel him so deep inside of you that you just know if he were to pull out that you’d feel emptier than ever.

“God, yes. Ransom. Fuck” your legs wrap tight around his waist, forcing him in even deeper if that’s possible at all but still you do it. Wanting nothing more than to feel as much of him as physically possible.

So you wrap your arms around him, your fingers tracing shapes on his back, causing him to shiver and growl loudly “fucking take this cock baby, take it like a good girl” he starts, adjusting his pace from fast and rough to slow and hard. Ramming in each time he speaks “such a good girl” thrust “loving every inch of this cock huh?” thrust “god this pussy” thrust “is gonna have me cumming way too quick” thrust.

“I can’t have that now can i?” that’s when he shocks you, flipping you over so that you’re on top “ride me baby, show daddy what you got” the nickname he uses for himself has your walls spasming, catching his attention.

“Oh you like that huh? Such a dirty girl for daddy, aren’t you?”

“Yes daddy” despite never using that in the bedroom before, it feels weirdly satisfying, having him refer to himself as daddy and seeing how he gets when you call him that too, the way his mouth hangs open, the way his cock twitches.

It’s something you’ll never forget.

You start off by collapsing onto his chest, your breasts pushed up against his pecs as you slowly lift your ass up before sinking back down onto him, earning a hiss.

“Yeah just like that, make daddy proud baby” so you do, you go again. And again. And again. Getting quicker each time until you’re a pro at it. You then sit up, continuing to bounce up and down, grinding as he bottoms out, with his initial instructions of course. He guides you through it and before he even tries to help a second time, he takes his hands away, noticing how you’re doing it all by yourself.

Grinding like the whore he’s turned you into. You can’t help the confidence beaming off of you as you go to work, slamming yourself down on his cock eagerly. You need that sweet release now more than ever, as does he.

“That’s it baby, make yourself cum”

The best pout and puppy dog eyes make a return “fuck me. Please daddy” and who is he to say no to you?

“You’re gonna be the death of me i swear” he flips you over again, keeping himself seated deep inside of you as his pace turns animalistic.

“Mhmm, give it to me, i’m gonna cum” you plead, not that he’d ever deny you a mind blowing orgasm in the first place as it’s clear you’ve never had one like the one he’s about to give you.

“Bet he could never fuck like this huh? Make you moan like a fucking porn star for him. Gonna have your legs shaking baby, hold on to me”

So you do.

Your grip tightens around his neck.

With every hit to your g-spot, he nudges you closer until yet again, stars cloud your vision and your toes curl. Your back arches up so that you’re chest to chest and you cum with a shaky and satisfied cry. He doesn’t stop though, plowing into you to chase his own release. Your legs are most definitely shaking.

Your walls continue to clamp down on him, spurring it on.

“God i’m gonna cum”

“Cum for me daddy” is all he needed to hear to go crazy and that’s when he spasms himself. His thick seed filling the condom and his thrusts get slower and harder. Riding both of your highs out.

Your breathing is heavy, your heart beat is out of control but you feel complete.

You’ve never experienced anything like that before.

He pulls out, disposing of the condom and rushing into the en suit for a second before returning with a wash cloth. He uses it to clean you up, taking his time and making sure to be extra careful with you. You try to prop yourself up on your elbow but struggle due to him fully ruining your body.

“Just relax baby, let me take care of everything” he presses a couple of kisses to your thighs and then your stomach, pausing to throw the wash cloth into the hamper before making his way back up to your lips.

He lays down next to you, pulling you into his side and draping an arm around your body so you lay your head down on his chest.

“So” you both say at the same time, causing a laughing fit to erupt.

“That was certainly an experience”

“I told you that i was gonna worship you and i think you can agree i delivered”

“You did more than just deliver Ransom”

“Please do tell me more” he laughs, stroking your hair.

“How on earth are you single?” the question that’s been on your mind since you and him got talking at the bar. He’s acted in a way that not many men do these days, it’s hard to believe no ladies are lining up to be with him.

Plus his dick and head game is A-1.

“I’m single more by choice than anything else”

“How come?” you feel bad for asking but surely if you were over stepping the line then he’d say.

“I mean, my family life hasn’t always been the best. I’ve learnt to not trust anyone that i’m related to and growing up with parents that just chucked money at stuff to solve it. If i was upset then it was always take this money, go shopping. Or if i needed my mother for girl advice it always lead to my dad telling me i should never trust women which is rich seeing as he cheats on my mom all the time”

It’s quite sad actually, a man that seems to have it all together, is clearly broken inside.

“I’m sorry, that’s awful. I’m guessing that’s why you’re single then, why you choose to keep away from dating”

“Yup. I prefer to just fuck with no strings attached. It’s easier, I don’t have to do anything other than make them cum. I’m not filled with pressure to be the perfect boyfriend. I can just relax but sometimes it gets lonely”

“How’d you mean? Sorry if i’m prying” you rest your head on your hands as you look up at him, his finger tracing shapes on your back now.

“It’s fine honestly, don’t sweat it. I guess the best way to explain it is that i can have all this money from my grandfather, all the cars, girls and friends in the world but i can’t trust any of them enough to let them see me when i’m laying in bed at night. The times when i just want someone to hold, someone to hold me, tell them about my day, hear about theirs. Someone to wake up next to and fall asleep next to. But whenever a woman gets even remotely close to me in a way that is too deep. I back off, i give her the cold shoulder and just ghost. I get freaked out because to me, there’s nothing scarier than someone seeing all of me, the good, the bad and the ugly”

It takes you just a second to realise, he’s just bared his soul to you. After saying that he backs off whenever a woman gets too close. After saying that he struggles to trust. That he’s scared of being himself around someone. He’s just been himself around you. And you have no doubt that he feels comfortable enough with you to do that so that’s gotta count for something, surely.

“I get it. It’s hard. Loving someone is easy but allowing them to love you, that’s the scary part. Because ultimately when you let someone in enough to let them love you whole heartedly it opens you up to the chance of heartbreak i mean, look at my life”

You both laugh a little “It’s not even just regular heartbreak, it’s the fear of being cheated on, having my trust shattered. Having someone use me for my family’s money”

“Well, for what it’s worth. I think you need to just bite the bullet, let that guard down. How do you ever expect to find what you want and need if you’re not willing to open yourself up to it. It’s a risk that is worth it sometimes, that eventually, all the heartaches will lead to something greater or someone. Someone that will accept every flaw you have and be there regardless of how messy things can get”

Ransom is just so relaxed right now, he feels at peace, at ease with you. The way you’re listening. Your head rested on his chest, letting him hold you and giving him proper responses, it shows you’re paying attention, you want to be there for him. He’s completely taken back by you. How could anyone want to cheat and leave you, it’ll always remain a mystery to him.

You’re like this ray of light, that came into his life tonight out of the blue. Someone who’s hurting too but somehow you amazing him with the sunshine you provide. You’re everything he’s always wanted in a girlfriend but he’s spent years pushing girls just like you to the side due to fear. Only difference is, he’s able to be himself with you. With them, he could never.

His body lets go as he turns on his side, turning you with him so that he’s cuddling you from behind.

“You’re right. I’ll get there eventually. I just, i need time”

Your silent for a while, taking his words in before you speak.

“Seems like you don’t need any time at all”

That’s when you hear quiet snores from behind you, he’s dozing. And after a couple of minutes, you decide that it’s probably time you see yourself out, you never wanna over stay your welcome and right now with him asleep, you already have.

But before you can even get off the bed, you need to remove his hand from around your frame. Which isn’t going to be easy considering you have to try not to wake him up.

You succeed, finally managing to scoot over to the edge of the bed. But that’s when you hear his tired groans, followed by a hand to your wrist.

“Don’t leave me” his voice is laced with worry

“What?”

“Everyone leaves me” his words break your heart all over again, you’ve been left before and you’re not about to do this to him. Besides, it’s not like you wanted to, you just didn’t think he was the type to want you here all night.

“I didn’t think you’d want me to be here when you woke up”

“Well, you thought wrong. Come back and cuddle, don’t leave like everyone else does”

It doesn’t take much more to convince you to crawl back into his arms. He presses a couple of kisses to your shoulder as you get under the covers with him. Then the kisses move to your cheek and eventually, your lips.

“I’m here to stay then i guess”

“Good”

You feel warm and happy somehow in his arms, like everything has gone away, even if it’s just temporarily.

“Goodnight”

“Goodnight Ransom. sweet dreams” something you’ve always said throughout your whole life. It’s a nice thing to say and it has him smiling into one last kiss before he closes his eyes for the night.

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

General Tags: @deadlymistress24 @coffeebooksandfandom @chris-butt @holtzkinnon @mychemicalimagines @llamadelreyx @haus-of-bitch-talk @buckstaybucky @thewinchestergirl1208 @chrissquares @patzammit @adriannajackson @dummiesshort @cevans-fics @americasass91 @toni9 @aaliferouss @bradfordmyworld @thereisa8ella @rockyrogers

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deardragonbook · 3 years

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Relationship Drama without the constant arguing

I feel like I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again, I don’t usually like romances. Nothing wrong with them, they’re just not my jam. Key word, usually.

I can’t stand the “will they, won’t they”, especially when we all know the answer and the real question is just, “when will they?”, I enjoy a slow burn, but it needs to be a progression and not ups and downs. Personal taste, okay.

I hate most forms of relationship drama, I hate arguing and “now isn’t the right time” when the reason it’s not the right time is so absurd and just.... sometimes it’s done properly and can be enjoyable but as a general rule, I don’t enjoy it, and I certainly wouldn’t trust myself to write it well.

Don’t get me wrong, the ocasional argument is fine, especially when it makes sense. Just if you feel you need drama, and all that drama come from arguing, there comes a point where the audience (or maybe just me) is going, “clearly they’re not good for each other”.

But, all relationships have their ups and their downs, especially if you’re in a fantasy universe where nothing is simple.

So here’s a quick compilation of some forms of drama that aren’t arguing:

1.- Distance, WITH communication! Sometimes characters have to be apart, a mission requires them to split up or maybe they’re infiltrated somewhere and certainly can’t see each other. This often causes me a lot of stress when there’s not communication cause it’s like, we just got here and now you split up (because it always happens as soon as they get together), but if there IS communication, this a completely different story. I love seeing characters sneaking away to write love letters, I love the other character receiving those letters and hugging the bird that bought them. I love when there’s a storm and the letter isn’t on time or gets lost and their worrying over the other one. I love when they finally get to see each other even for just a day and the passion and the longing! I love the tension building up and the payoff when they finally are together again.

I love that this drama doesn’t require any relationship problems and you can actually grow the relationship during it! It also encourages creativity from the characters and it has a good payoff with them getting to see each other again eventually.

2.- Concern. This often ends up in an argument but doesn’t really need to. One of the couples I write consists of a well-trained in combat ready for action woman and her wife who just wants to run a successful inn and live peacefully. As the plot thickens danger is unavoidable, and it’s something they both understand and accept. But that won’t stop the concern. It won’t stop them from pacing waiting to get back from battle, the hugs, the attempt to learn some basic medical training in case one day it could make a difference. They don’t argue, but it’s tension.

3.- Uncertainty, especially in characters that are new to relationships. In real life, people rarely marry their first partner. And a big part of this isn’t always about whether you’re right for one another or not.

This isn’t a rule of life or anything. I’m my current partners first SO and we’ve been together for five years. If you’re in your first relationship I’m not saying it won’t work! Just, in general.

I’m also not saying the only reason people leave first relationships is uncertainty. There are plenty of good reasons to leave a relationship.

But in my first relationship, I found myself often asking questions, “is this love?” “Is this a good relationship or do I just not know any better?” and current partner also had a lot of those thoughts. The more I talk to people, the more I’mve convinced, most people have do this in their first relationship.

It’s natural to wonder if what we’re feeling is real or just new and thereby indistinguishable from something else.

This can be a really fun thing to play with, these questions, talking and working through them. This works best with this dynamic where you have one person who’s new to a relationship and another who isn’t (walk with cautions here because this does create a power-dynamic that you don’t want to let them abuse, obviously... or maybe you do because you aren’t trying to do a healthy relationship, you do you).

This also allows for questions and answers, it allows for explanation and also the questioning of, “I’ve done this before, thereby I think of this as normal, but my new partner is questioning it and now so am I.”

Relationships are complicated. Remember that, because it’s part of the fun.

4.- Mental health and how we deal with it. Some people find comfort in talking, other people find comfort in being quiet. Some people need space while other’s seek out a cosy environment. What problems do your characters have? How do they deal with them? And when will this overlap with each other?

A very quick and easy example of this, one of my fave couples in my books, Emily and Elizabeth. Emily is bubbly and likes to sit down and listen, she enjoyed small talk and knowing things about other people so she can better help them. Elizabeth is as Emily would say, not the opposite but close, she likes keeping to herself. So, reaching a middle ground was a very important part of building their relationship.

5.- Probably not much good for most fantasy YA books which is my safe area, but for older relationships, kids from past relationships. Now not only do you have to build a relationship with the SO, but with younger or older kids who are also probably emotionally dealing with something.

And, that’s the list!

I’d like to be able to think of some more and do a part 2 later, but right now this is all I could think of. I hope this helped or inspired in some way!

Here’s my link tree if you’d like to check out my other socials or my book.

And keep writing!

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curly-bangtan · 4 years

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Heatwave Drabble #9: sweet night (M)

[Heatwave // Godless // Heatwave Drabbles] <- must read first!

Pairing: Taehyung x reader

Summary: After a series of miscommunications and immaturity that lead to a rip through both your friendship and ambiguous relationship, this last turn of events could be the deciding factor of whether or not you’ve lost each other from your lives forever.

Genre: angst, smut, fwb au, roommate au, f2l

Warnings: SO much angst and feels, slight slow burner and a lot of build up, unprotected sex, hot tub, oral (m&f), food play, crying, i don’t want to give too much away eeee

Word count: 23.8k a monster i know ;-;

A/N: The end is finally here!! It’s late but trust me when I say I worked all day on this and did not do an ounce of revision today because I wanted to get this done. I’ve been writing this series, and this ending in particular, for so long and have been so nervous about getting this perfect. So please enjoy~

(quite a few ppl also couldn’t be tagged from the taglist and it’s 3am so i honestly dk how to fix it ;-;)

You used to think heartbreak was for the weak, after all you can only hurt as much as you let yourself be hurt. So... maybe you are weak. Because that ever-constricting ache in your chest has not diminished even a bit since that day you left him.

Four weeks. Not a word to each other.

It’s a hollowing feeling - someone you’ve had in your life every day for the past few years, a constant companion, suddenly completely absent in a blink of an eye. You don’t think you could put it into words even if you tried how this affected you. Life feels so foreign, your personality dulls.

The anger you felt for him dissipated quicker than you’d anticipated, but the anger at yourself only grew. No matter how you look at it now, you can only see it as being your fault.

But the decision to part ways was for the best, you have to keep reminding yourself. You shouldn’t be around each other anymore.

Whenever you see him around campus, you spin around and speed off the other way, hoping that he doesn’t see you too. Okay, you are weak, okay. But your heart twists at the sign of him, not just squeezes but twists into thorned knots. It’s the sort of pain that takes from you, makes you a different person unrecognisable to yourself.

You had moved in with Lotta. When she asked you what happened, all you had said was that you two had a massive fight and fell out. She knew better than to prod further from the telltale signs that you were close to tears from a simple question: the trembling throat, pursed lips, uncharacteristically quiet voice. And you were grateful because you knew you couldn’t afford to be asked about him without breaking.

The bed feels awfully cold in the nights of early February. And every night, you stare at his name on the screen of your phone, contemplating. One tap and you can hear his voice. One tap and your longing could be absolved. You always almost give in to this overpowering urge itching within your fingers. But you wouldn’t even know what to say to him.

Hi. How are you. I miss you like crazy and I think about you everyday but I know we should keep our distance but I’m just so sorry for everything.

You liked to think that maybe this break is just temporary, you both need space from each other because the toxicity built up so quickly that neither of you could think or breathe. But the longer time is spent away from him, the more you convince yourself that it wasn’t meant to be. It was never going to work; you knew this from the start but had been too optimistic.

And the mistakes you both made… You can’t forget them and the scars you’ve left on each other; you don’t think he’d be able to forgive you, not any time soon anyway.

You wonder if he’s doing the same, if he too is agonising over every wrong step he took to lead you two to this state, or if he’s cursing you for destroying everything. For his sake, you hope he’s moving on. Because that, for some reason, feels so much better than knowing that he’s crying over you.

The strange thing is that you had been the one to break things off. The look of lostness in his red-rimmed eyes laced with an unmissable reluctance will always be an enigma to you. Because he was furious, distraught. So why was he shocked by your ending? How was he not done with you?

That day you left, he wordlessly stood next to you as you packed your things. When you handed him his grey hoodie, the one you had gradually claimed as your own under mutual tacit agreement over your months together, it had truly felt like the end.

“Are... Are you sure? I don’t mind if you keep it.” He had said, voice raw from the arguing but also the tears he was fighting back.

You couldn’t look at him, you knew you would fall apart if you did. “I think it’s best if you take it back.” Why did he want you to keep it anyway?

Something was missing in both your voices when you spoke to each other, reflective of the heart-shaped void you had carved into the other. Everytime you think back to that moment, you want to kick yourself. You could have at least kept the hoodie - that way you could at least have a piece of him to cling onto in your lonely desperate nights.

Because now you have nothing. Nothing of his in your life, no reminder at all that he ever existed with you except the memories embedded so deeply in your heart that it hurts.

No one ever mentions him to you; you think they got the hint from Lotta not to. He’s a ghost.

Haunting you with his heartbroken eyes that shattered at the sight of Jimin. You’ll never forget that.

Sometimes, you’ll just be having dinner with her, and you’ll be crushed with this suffocating wave of missing him. It knocks the breath out of you. Because you can momentarily forget that it’s over, and mistaken Lotta as him. So when you look up and realise that it isn’t him, he’s not here, it’s as if someone is digging their nails into your scabbing wound and releasing the blood of your heartache once more.

And Lotta would look up and ask you, “What? Is the rice overcooked?” And you would want to cry because he would always overcook the rice.

And sometimes, you would just want to blurt it all out to her, right then and there. Tell her everything that had happened with you and him, because - god - keeping it inside is exhausting. But the words get trapped at your throat, unable to be enunciated. Which is just your forte, isn’t it? Not being able to say how you feel...

You are a competitive person, that has never been a secret. You are used to winning at everything you wish to win at, it is in your nature.

So losing Taehyung has been the biggest loss of your life. It had been a gamble from the start, whether it would work or not. There were so many signs pointing in the direction of yes, this is going to work, you love each other so much. Because still to this day, you believe that you are soulmates, and you were one step, three words, away from a happy ending. But then, caught up in this game you played, you hadn’t realised that he had been yours from the very start if you had only just accepted him. And that was your downfall: your failure to see his love for you in the form of his actions, rather than the words of validation you were seeking.

And thus, you had lost your lover, your best friend, your other half, completely of your own doing.

The realisation haunts you every night.

It’s Galentine’s Day. In this household, you don’t say the V word.

Lotta has booked a weekend trip to celebrate your mutual [forever alone] relationship status. Some strawberry farm in the countryside for friends to pick berries and make jam and bond over their mutual loneliness. Apparently that’s a thing nowadays.

It would have excited you before, a trip like this. The idea sounds much like a sweet attempt from her to cheer you up, (you haven’t been trying to hide how down you’ve been), so as much as you wanted to just wallow on this shitty holiday, you agreed to go with her.

And to be honest, this might be exactly what you need. A weekend away with your best friend away from the city could heal you. Best friend? Should you call her that? You’re not sure because that title has always referred to someone else previously, someone you shouldn’t be thinking about.

To your credit, you’ve been doing better. You think about him less and less each day; you stopped crying after the first week. You’ve always been a progressor with astounding growth. It’s not to say that you’re doing fine - that would be a reach - because small things such as a cup of hot chocolate would still remind you of him and the string of memories that come with it. But you think your heart is finally slowly starting to stitch itself back together.

Galentine’s weekend just so happened to fall on the weekend of Lotta’s Geophysics trip to Barcelona, as inconvenient as it is. But, rather than letting this disrupt her plans, Lotta had been adamant about going.

“My flight lands at 7am. That’s two hours before we are supposed to meet and depart from the coach station. That’s plenty of time.” She had waved away your concern when this topic of discussion came up last week.

“You never know with flight timings. We could just blow it off and have just as nice of a weekend at home watching movies.” Strawberry picking sounds great for the soul, but so does Netflix and ice cream. “We could have a Saw marathon like we’ve been wanting to.”

“Saw marathon on Valentine’s day?” Lotta scoffed at your suggestion

You blinked. “What’s wrong with that? We love scary films, it’s our thing.”

“It doesn’t matter, I’ve already paid for the trip and it’s non-refundable.”

“I’ll subsidise the cost, there’s no point forcing this trip if it won’t work with your schedule. You haven’t even let me pay you back for my half of the trip yet.” Lotta is like that with money, overly generous when completely unasked for. If you don’t mention paying her back, she would never have asked you to.

“It’s my treat to you, shut up. Just trust me, Y/N, I’ll make it to the coach on time, I always make it on time.” She shook you by the shoulders. “We’ll make our separate ways to the meeting point Saturday morning and everything else will go smoothly. There’s no reason to cancel the trip. Plus, V day is on Sunday, so do you really want to see all those shitty ass rom-com Netflix suggestions or would you rather be enjoying the great outdoors? Trust, we need a break in the countryside. It’s going to be an amazing weekend, you’ll thank me later.”

Right now, as you make a final check through your lightly-packed bag before you leave the house, you find yourself agreeing. You do need the fresh naturally strawberry-scented air to expel all these negativity from you. You want to feel yourself again, be happy and loud and excitable.

Collecting for your trip ticket that Lotta had left on your desk before she went to Barcelona, you decide right now that: yes, this will be an amazing weekend. Law of attraction and power of manifestation. Lotta’s flight will be punctual and you will make some fond memories together.

You’ll be okay.

You arrive at the meeting spot twenty minutes early because you are known to be prone to tardiness. The tour guide welcomes you keenly. He is a young, twenty-something you reckon, tall man, graced with dimples and honey skin. You think you would find him attractive in different circumstances, but you haven’t gotten to the stage of feeling attraction for anyone else yet.

“Your ticket with the barcode, miss?” His smile is charming, you guess. It’s more an observation than an enticing quality. You hand it over to him wordlessly and watch him scan the creased piece of paper. “Great, that’s perfect. And your partner?”

“Partner?” You frown, but realise what he means. This is a Galentine’s programme, of course he expects you not to be alone. “Oh, she should be coming, we came separately because she’s just getting off a flight right now.”

“Oh! That’s very sweet of her to rush back to spend this weekend with you.” The endearment in his smile heightens.

“Yeah… She’s the best.” There’s no particular reason for your awkwardness. You’ve always been a social butterfly, yet lately, you’re keeping more to yourself, avoiding unnecessary conversations because your mind is always too preoccupied.

“I am Jae, by the way, and I’ll be your guide for the weekend. I hope you have a wonderful time with us this Valentine's day. Hop on board.” Giving him a polite nod, you climb onto the empty bus, noting the swirly hearts beside the large red words ‘STRAWBERRY LOVE’ on the side of the big white vehicle. Kind of tacky, but the idea of this programme is kind of cute so you guess it’s suiting. After assessing row after row, you plop down at a window seat you deem worthy and settle your bag on the seat beside you, head leaning on the glass as you await your partner.

Dear partner, please don’t be late, you text her.

Soon, other participants of this trip start arriving, filing a crooked queue in front of the tour guide to register. You don’t pay much attention to them except to examine for Lotta’s face. The coach is set to leave at 9:00 on the dot in order to arrive at the farm at noon, it is now 8:56 and Lotta is still not here. You don’t want to lose faith in manifestation magic, but worry is settling in. If it comes down to it, you will beg Jae to wait for you. With your texts unread, you decide to phone her.

Come on… Just let this one weekend go smoothly for you.

Nervously playing with the ends of your hair, you exhale in relief when she picks up. “Oh thank god, Lotta. Where are you? The coach is leaving in like two minutes. You’ve landed right? I’m not sure if I can convince the people to wait for you that long but worse comes to worse, I could ask for the address of the farm and you can commute there yourself. ” A silence replies after your slur of panicked words. “Hello? Dude, hurry.”

“Wait, so he’s not there yet?” She asks hesitantly.

“Who? The tour guide? No, he’s here. Where are you?” Just then you hear a thunder of running footsteps. Expectantly, you look out the bus window for your friend’s arrival, only to find…

“Wait, Lotta… What the fuck did you do?” Something drops in your stomach.

“Look Y/N, don’t be mad. This is for your own good, you need this.” You can practically hear her stealthy smile through the phone.

An icy chill strikes down your spine. You simply cannot believe what you are seeing out the window. She-

“Lotta…”

“Trust me, okay? You have been so fucking depressed the past month. You need to fix this problem, please. I hate seeing you like this, so if not for yourself, then do it for me.” There’s some guilt in her tone, you’ll give her that. But you are in a state of utter disbelief, borderline shell-shocked, the groves of your brain tangled in itself.

“Lotta, where are you? Are you even fucking coming?” Absolute mortification fills your chest to the brim at your gradual realisation of her ploy.

This can’t be happening.

“I promise, this is all for your own good. Please have a great weekend. I love you. Bye!” And with that she hangs up, leaving you wide-eyed, jaw-dropped, staring out the window...

At a panting, slightly sweat-beaded Taehyung handing his crumpled ticket to Jae.

“Made it just in time, mate.” You can just about make out Jae’s words from the shape of his mouth as he greets Taehyung and proceeds to recite his ‘I’m your tour guide for the trip’ speech. Taehyung nods interestedly, reciprocating with that sheepish smile of his as he scratches the back of his bedhead.

What did your best friend do? Did she just… set you up…? As you hear his loud unmissable steps stomping up onto the coach, you know you’re doomed. It’s over for you. You might as well fling yourself off a cliff.

Looking around the bus, you realise that it of course is completely full except for the seat beside you.

The power of manifestation is fucking bullshit. You’re stuck with this bad luck for the rest of your life.

And this weekend, you’re going to die.

You see him as a blur at the start of the aisleway, a mere figure in swatches of peach and brown and black. You hear pounding, a booming pulse in your ear.

It’s Taehyung. Taehyung. Your, but also not your, Taehyung.

Each step he takes approaching the only available seat he sees, you shrink lower in yours and keep your eyes pressed shut, but for what reason you’re not entirely sure. There’s no hiding now.

Your confrontation is inevitable, a few steps away. Then he finally sees you.

“Y-Y/N?”

Your heart soars to your throat at the sound of his voice as everything around you vanishes. This can’t be real.

Slowly, you turn up to face him. When your eyes meet, it’s like someone has driven a sharp object into your chest and twisted. His face is exactly how you remember, but also not quite. His big brown eyes are wide with surprise in a pitiful expression of bewilderment. His sleep rumpled hair, grown out to almost cover his eyes, yet still very much permed in the style you loved. His lips are jutting out, slightly parted in confusion at your unexpected presence that reminds you of how it felt to kiss him.

And the look of disgust that you had expected - absent.

You want to throw your arms around him. There is always a warmth emitting from Taehyung - the kind of warmth you feel when you enter your house on a snow ridden day and the gust of heat accompanied by the smell of home simply swallows you like a wave. But there is also something different, unfamiliar almost, about him. He is rougher round the edges, hints of facial hair dotted below his nose, dressed in slacks that he only usually wore strictly as pyjamas and never to go outside in.

As your eyes fall to the rest of him, you notice his fists tighten around the straps of his backpack, the balls of his knuckles whitening.

“Taehyung-” Saying his name feels like a release. A rush of satisfaction at the way the syllables roll off your tongue so naturally, then a flood of emotion that comes with all the memories his name invokes.

Then you’re at a loss for words again. You are so utterly unprepared for this situation because you didn’t think you would meet him again so soon, not until you’ve moved on. You’re not ready to face him.

What do you say? How are you meant to act around him?

He looks equally as lost, though you read him easily. There’s a flash of hurt in his eyes, the same that you’re sure you had. But it dissolves much quicker with him, almost into relief and content as if he’s glad to see you.

You know from the slight downward angle his brows are pointing that he has definitely missed you. Perhaps in a completely different way from you missing him, but he’s missed you.

“If I could just have everybody's attention!” Jae’s voice booms from the speaker, startling every passenger. “Young man over there, please be seated.” You quickly snatch your bag into your lap to let Taehyung sit next to you. The seats aren’t the most spacious; despite pressing your side against the window as much as you can, Taehyung’s shoulder comes brushing past yours as he settles into his own seat. Your heart flutters. “As all our participants are now present, our ride will begin immediately. The duration of the ride will be three hours, but a pitstop will be made at around halfway for a quick snack or toilet break. Please ensure all seatbelts are fastened during the entirety of our journey...” He drones on.

Three hours, you bristle. Everything is happening all at once and your mind can’t catch up. You’re going to be stuck on this coach for three hours next to Taehyung. No, worse. You’re stuck with Taehyung for this whole weekend in a strawberry farm.

Glancing over, his lips are pressed into a thin line, no doubt with the same chaotic thoughts racing through his mind. There isn’t much leg room, and though his thighs are purposely clamped together to avoid touching you, you know he can’t keep them clamped this tightly for three hours without cramping. Your legs are going to touch at some point.

God, why are you even losing your mind over something so juvenile? You’ve been reduced to a pre-teen girl so easily flustered by the thought of touching thighs amidst this turn of events.

Everything is gonna be okay, you tell yourself. This is gonna be fine. You don’t have to speak to each other. Just put in your earphones and fall asleep against the window.

But you have so many questions, for Lotta, for Taehyung. Did she plan this? How did she know that he’d be here? Hell, did he know you’d be here? No, there’s no way. The shock on his face was genuine.

He stares ahead, though visibly extremely puzzled. You suppress the urge to glance over at him every second to check that it’s really him.

“Thank you everyone for joining us so promptly. As you already know, I am Jae and I will be the guide to your trip to our beautiful strawberry farm over this Valentine’s weekend.” You pause. Right, this is a Valentine’s weekend trip, you had momentarily forgotten. And you’re stuck with Taehyung here. Two days, two nights. You’re not sure if you could withstand his presence for that long. Will you ignore each other for the entirety of this trip? You would be fine with that, and in all honesty, you think you might prefer it over speaking to him because that would only sprinkle salt on your wound.

A sharp pain in your palm reminds you that you’ve been gripping onto the programme leaflet that was handed to you. You smooth out the creases of the paper and flip it open to skim through what you have to tackle ahead of you.

Day 1: Go strawberry picking with your partner at our scenic farm in the lovely spring weather while the sun is out. A heavenly spa awaits you afterwards to wind down and indulge together. For an amorous evening, go stargazing under our cloudless skies...

Alarm bells start ringing immediately, from the cursive font of the strangely-worded phrases, to the shades of reds and pinks of the background. You skim further down the page, the kernel of anxiety growing exponentially at your throat.

Day 2: Make delicious strawberry jam and learn our signature recipe for a splendid strawberry tart. When dusk falls, enjoy a romantic candlelit dinner with your partner amidst the symphonies of our string quartet.

Fuck. Wait, what the fuck.

You flip back to the front page.

Strawberry Love: The Perfect Couple’s Romantic Getaway Valentine’s Weekend

Strawberry… Love…

“What the fucking shit?” You can’t help but cry out loud. Lotta- She-

The passengers of the bus all turn to shoot you at look of concern at your outburst, Taehyung included. His eyes dart around the features of your face to search for an answer. “What’s wrong?”

What’s wrong… What’s wrong…? What isn’t wrong at this point?

You feel defeated, absolutely fucking defeated that you don’t even have it in your to be shocked or angry. There is no way you can ignore him for the whole weekend when the programme of your trip - a couple’s Valentine’s trip - obligates you to spend time with him. The thought of making stupid little strawberry tarts with Taehyung… Your blood can’t even boil, you’re just fucking speechless.

Lotta, that conniving genius that is your best friend. How did she manage to pull this all off? Galentine’s trip your fucking ass. She tricked you into a romantic holiday with Taehyung, fucking hell...

But that means - she knows. The mortification hammers into your stomach. There’s no reason for her to do this other than for the purpose of getting you two to make up. Lotta fucking knew about you and Taehyung.

How? For how long? And why does she think that this will benefit you in any way? You and Taehyung are over and you were slowly (fine, excruciatingly slowly) moving on. Until now.

Letting out a huff of your frustration, you turn to look at Taehyung, properly look him in the eye for the first time. You can’t stop your chest from constricting. He regards you with that confused expression of his, eyes holding your glare but barely just, bashful from your sudden undivided attention channeled towards him. “I need to know what you’re doing here first.” It comes out harsher than you mean for it to, but it stems from your desperation to stay inert while your emotional sanity is precariously threatened right now.

“Me? I… Well, Lotta told me that she had a ticket for this weekend-trip to a strawberry farm type thing that she couldn’t go to anymore, so she asked if I wanted to go in her place because she knows that I like strawberries.” He furrows his brows. “Okay, that sounds really stupid out loud but I swear I didn’t know that you were gonna be here.” He throws his hands up, nothing but honesty flooding his chocolate eyes.

But of course, Taehyung doesn’t lie, you are sure from the times you’ve witnessed him not being able to muster up an excuse to get rid of an annoying relative on the phone. What’s more convincing of his truth is that he would not be the most difficult person to fall victim to Lotta’s scheme - drizzle in mentions of food and he is completely your pawn. You almost feel bad for this unsuspecting fool; he still has no idea.

But Lotta, that sly bitch… You are going to wrangle her when you get back.

“Taehyung… She lied to you.” You sigh, watching his features slowly contort in deeper confusion.

“Wait what? So we’re not going to a strawberry farm?” He sits up in alarm, looking around the bus as if that would grant him any insight whatsoever. You almost laugh at his naivety because as much as you want to uphold your cold exterior, something about him, his ever present innocent boyishness maybe, never fails to penetrate through to you.

“No, that’s not what I meant. She lied to me too; she told me that this would be a girl’s trip because we’re both single and bitter for Valentine’s. Get it? It was just a setup. For you and me.” As the clockwork finally turns as he processes your words, a visibly distressed grimace forms. “Look at the programme, Taehyung, it freaking says: Strawberry Love: The Perfect Couple’s Romantic Getaway Valentine’s Weekend!”

As those words resonate from your mouth and the realisation finally dawns on him, dread settles itself in the pit of your stomach, cold, dry and coarse. Saying it aloud somehow finalises it - this is actually happening, you’re going to have to spend this weekend with the one person you’d least like to be stranded with right now.

“Lotta… But why would she…?” Deep red roses effloresce across the apples of his cheeks, and you feel yourself unconsciously mirroring his reaction as your mind flashes back to the planned activities of this tour. You’ll be made to pick berries and bake pastries together. And the romantic candlelit dinner… You can’t even finish that thought. Because even now, you find your eyes roaming every inch of his face, trying to memorise his details because it’s been so long.

This isn’t healthy for your heart. You were on a path of recovery, a path of forgetting him and forgiving yourself, and now you’ve been flung back to square one.

The bus jolts. His leg lightly knocks into yours and both your attentions momentarily divert to the touch, glaring at where the thick grey material of his joggers meets the thin cotton of your trousers. A long second passes before Taehyung lifts it away from you.

“I don’t know why she’d do this. All I told her was that we had a massive falling out.” You mutter. Except you do know, you know her very well. This was no mistake, but the result of careful planning. She knew exactly what she was doing.

“So maybe she’s trying to get us to reconcile?”

As soon as those words come out, you both seem to freeze in your spots, blinking in bewilderment at the slightest mention of the elephant in the room. It might be wishful thinking but you hear a sliver of hope in his question, and you think he hears how it came out too.

Reconcile.

Could the two of you reconcile after everything you put each other through in your last few days together? The thought tears you apart emotionally. Of course you want to reconcile, of course you want to be with him. But haven’t you proven enough that what you had didn’t work? Afterall, everything you had together came crumbling down at the smallest hitch in your path. What is there to reconcile but a dysfunctional relationship?

And how could either of you forget the torment you endured? The noises of Taehyung with another woman through the thin walls, your betrayal of his heart when you mistakenly slept with Jimin.

Reconciliation doesn’t seem possible in the foreseeable future.

“N-not reconcile in that way, I mean, like, for us to make up.” Taehyung stammers, hand waving about in his nervous state. “I mean- no, not make up, but like… make… peace. Yeah, make peace. Sorry.” He winces timorously at his spectacular fumble of words. It’s surprising how nervous and timid he is acting. He should be brutish to you, savage and hostile. But he isn’t.

“Yeah, I got what you mean… Don’t worry.” You can’t stop the corners of your lips from turning up, just a fraction. “But yeah, I think she wants us to make peace.” You conveniently do not bring up how you’re certain that she knows about your history and that this holiday she booked for you and Taehyung is most definitely for the purpose of reconciliation in that way.

“Right.” His bottom lip pinched between his teeth in a manner that makes it feel as though it’s a sight you shouldn’t be looking at, Taehyung’s attention shifts down to avoid your eye. Though, there’s a clear glimmer of expectation as he asks, “So… do you want to talk it out?”

The bus bounces, violently this time, as it drives over what must be a pebble. It rattles your thoughts so physically that you have to grip onto your trousers for support.

This is the deciding moment. Now is when you can choose how you go about this which will determine the rest of your weekend together.

Do you want to talk it out?

The painful memory of the last time you had tried to “talk it out” rakes its claws down your back. All the yelling, the hurtful accusations hurled both ways, the reluctance to accept blame… It haunts you so much so that your voices still ring in your mind, echoes embedding the misery you had both felt and inflicted deep in your bones.

The three stages of your fight painted clairvoyantly in your mind.

One: The Hurting Each Other.

You fuck guys without learning their names.

Two: The Guilt-Tripping.

I didn’t sleep with her. I couldn’t even kiss her for more than a minute on her bed because it felt so wrong it made me fucking sick. I stayed on her couch and thought about you all fucking night. Happy?

Three: The Falling Apart

I… I thought it was clear how I felt…

Always replaying in a loop.

“I’m not sure what there is to talk out.” You say, hating how callous you sound but knowing that it’s a necessary evil to convey your intent. That was in the past. Taehyung is your past. Talking about it would only drag you back into that perpetual cycle and there’s not much left in you to afford that. You look out the window at the open plains of grassland to avoid the hurt you know he can’t hide on his face. “I think it’s better if we keep our distance as much as possible and not make it difficult for ourselves.”

“Okay.” You hear him reply, but only a quiet mumble. From the faint reflection of the window, you see him tighten his jaw and fit his Airpods into his ears. The monster that is your guilt and bitterness sinking its fangs into your throat.

It’s better this way.

And so the bus continues to speed off to the countryside, driving you further and further from civilization and your chance of escape from this doomed weekend with the boy you’re trying to stop loving.

You wake up to someone gently shaking your shoulders. “Miss…” You jolt upright.

The first thing that elucidates in your sleep-fogged vision is your tour guide’s kind face smiling down at you. The second, when you come to your senses, is that you are leaning against Taehyung’s frame, his shoulders much harder than you remember them to be. The boy himself is fast asleep beside you, arm loosely linked with yours because you know he has a habit of holding things in his sleep. You hastily pull away.

“We’ve arrived, Miss.” Jae says politely, that humoured glow in his pupils eliciting a bashful blush from you.

“Oh right.” You look around to find the coach empty except for the three of you. “That’s embarrassing, I’m sorry.” The last thing you remember was the angry texts you spammed Lotta with before the songs in your playlist all blurred into one.

“No worries. Forgive me, I’m still learning names.” The heat of the sun is seeping through the glass of the windowpane, licking tenderly at your skin to rouse you awake. “I’ve tried to wake your partner, but it seems...”

“I’m Y/N. And don’t worry, he’s impossible to wake up.” You pause. There is a chance for you to rectify his misconception that you and Taehyung are a couple, except it would probably require some explaining or white-lying and now is not a great time if you’re holding up the whole group. “I’ll do it.”

Despite the conversation being had right over him, Taehyung shows no sign of his slumber being disturbed. His head is tipped back, mouth hanging open with a small dribble of drool beading at the corner of his mouth. Still the same deep-sleeping idiot.

“Oi.” You nudge his ribcage, scaring Jae with your coarseness. “Wake up, Taehyung.”

Nothing but heavy breathing.

“Dude, we’re here.” You grab his face between your harsh fingers and begin shaking vigorously.

Not even a stir. You remember how you used to like to joke that Taehyung could sleep through a burglary, and just to prove your point, you woke up in the middle of the night one time and screamed at the top of your lungs. He did not even move a toe.

“Uh-” There is a hint of worry in Jae’s face; perhaps he thinks that Taehyung has a health condition.

“It’s okay, I’ve got the trick.” This time, you pinch his nose with considerable force and clamp your palm over his mouth, ignoring the smoothness of his skin under your touch and the feeling of his lips skimming your palm. You glance up to find Jae’s eyes almost bulging out of their sockets, swaying uneasily at your method to wake him. “Don’t worry, it works every time.”

But true to your word, in a few seconds, Taehyung is sputtering for breath, eyes flying open in befuddlement, scrambling to sit up. You let go of his nose and smile at your tour guide only to find him petrified.

“What?” In disarray, Taehyung wipes at the corner of his mouth and pats his hair back down from its messy temperment. His heavy body no longer slumped against yours, you feel a weight lifted off your chest, though the fact that you had fallen asleep on each other plays at your mind, lingering to taunt you.

“We’ve arrived.” Jae winces.

You stare at the patterned seats of the coach, trying not to pay attention to Taehyung’s embarrassed apology and explanation on what a deep sleeper he is. You’re not going to think about Taehyung and sleeping. Mindlessly, you trail behind the banter men off the vehicle. You’re not going to think about how good it feels to sleep beside him.

The sun greeting you when you step foot onto ground instantly refreshes your mood, banishing away those thoughts that were slipping through the cracks. There’s something so healing about the air of the countryside, fresh and unpolluted and full of the pleasant crisp scent that one would associate with green and yellow. Staring back at you is a seemingly endless field of bushes dotted with red, the sweet berry smell already perfusing into your nose.

You ignore the crunch of gravel sounding from Taehyung’s steps not far from you and proceed to join the waiting crowd, their phones out to capture the stunning scenery.

As everyone gathers, it’s difficult to concentrate on Jae’s briefing of the weekend planned ahead, starting with an introduction to the farm which you frankly do not care to learn about. You try not to glance over at Taehyung at the corner of your eye, at how his hair is still sticking out awkwardly in the back, his eyes slightly swollen from sleep. You try not to notice his hesitancy, standing a distance from you despite everyone else standing in their couples.

It’s like a buzzing in the back of your mind, a constant tug at your consciousness, not allowing you to relax as much as you want to in this serene environment. You want to stop thinking about him but you can’t.

“In February, the weather is set to be nice and warm during the day and slightly chilly in the evenings, so I do hope that you have packed sufficiently as stated in the email. Now, if you look to your left...” Jae’s monologue drones on like white noise, because all you can focus on is not focusing on Taehyung.

Lotta has not replied to your hounding messages with anything of use, no answers to your plethora of questions. Just relax. Stop making such a big deal out of it, grow up and make up with him because you clearly aren’t over him. You wanted to tell her that things are not that simple, she doesn’t know how badly you both fucked up. Yet, you know her response would only be some pretentiously worded reply full of the condescending wisdom it always contains when she’s telling you off.

You’ll admit it, as stubborn as you are, Lotta’s advice is right 9 times out of 10. She was right when she said you shouldn’t have gone with Taehyung to Mykonos within two weeks of knowing him because he could have been a killer or psychopath. She was right when she pointed out that you act like Taehyung annoys the living shit out of you but you secretly care deeply for him.

But she’s definitely not right this time, you are adamant about it. It would be a miracle if you and Taehyung could even be friends within the next six months, let alone… And if anything were to happen, setting you two up on a romantic holiday together is certainly the wrong way to go about it. It feels so inorganic, like you’re forced to spend time with each other.

Out of habit, you steal a glance at him. It’s not a surprise to find him not paying an ounce of attention to Jae either. Taehyung is staring off into the strawberry field, face angled away from you such that the sunlight is hitting his skin in all the right places to glaze a golden aura over him.

It’s strange to see such a permanent sadness in his eyes, a melancholic nostalgia. You hate yourself - you did this to him, you broke him. Does he hate you? Resent you? You think you’d rather he did.

Soon, the group of you are whisked away down a pebbly path to a rustic looking hotel beside the farm where you will all stay in. It’s not the old run-down type of rustic, but more the luxurious kind that very evidently serves an aesthetic purpose. And that’s when you begin to notice, this “farm” is not really a farm at all, but more a boujee farm-themed resort. This trip could certainly not have been cheap. As much as you are here against your will, you can’t help but feel immense gratitude to Lotta for her willingness to spend such money on you.

You are stopped at a grand lobby, the style of which resembling a small piazza of Southern Italy - warm neutral-toned Roman concrete walls with a green flourish of vines and bushes. It’s absolutely stunning, a surreal setting that you only see in movies. It’s impossible not to feel the air of romance circulating this architecture. You glance over to find him, stood an awkwardly respectful distance away from you, gaping around at the interior of the building in awe. He is a sucker for art, especially architecture. You almost wish you were friends again only to hear him gush about the beauty of this place.

When Jae begins to hand out room keys, it suddenly occurs to you, perhaps the worst aspect of your predicament this weekend - you are sharing a room with Taehyung.

You are sharing a…

Heart sinking, you look over again to see if the same thought has dawned on him. It has. His eyes are fixed on Jae in an eerily blank way, his jaw tense, a single bead of sweat trickling down the side of his forehead which you will excuse as the heat.

When Jae approaches you, Taehyung automatically joins your side in a dazed worry. Eye contact made was brief, not enough for you two to communicate whether or not you tell Jae that this was all a mistake and you would much rather be apart.

“Here you go, Y/N.” Your guide flashes you that charming grin of his as he waves your keycards before you. Instinctively, you receive it in your palm. “You guys have got the deluxe suite - wonderful choice.”

“We-” You begin, but he doesn’t seem to take notice. You’re starting to notice that he perhaps likes the sound of his own voice a bit too much.

“As I said, strawberry-picking will start at half past so that gives you a bit of time to drop off your luggage and freshen up after the long ride.” He continues. This will probably be the only chance you get to tell him that you and Taehyung aren’t a couple before it becomes too late, and you’re going to miss this opportunity because of another one of his monologues. The desperate itch in your chest grows an uncomfortable size. “Please meet here at the reception on time. And as for your luggage - oh, I see you two are lightly-packed. Low maintenance, my favourite type of people. In that case, your room is on the ground floor, if you follow that lovely couple down that corridor over there.”

And just like that, he smiles, retracts his extended arm pointing towards the direction of your room and turns to guide another couple.

“Wai-” You call after him weakly, but he has once again launched into the same speech he’d recited to you to a new audience.

And there goes your chance of rectifying this weekend.

You stand there for a good minute, mind trying to piece together how, just how, you will manage to survive this weekend. Taehyung is quiet beside you, equally as baffled at what to do.

“Should we head to our room then…” He mutters after too long a moment of unmoving stature. “I kinda want to change into some lighter clothes and we don’t have that long.”

You nod without looking at him. Because you can’t stand looking at his face right now, the face that you’ll be stuck with for these two days, the face that you love.

Silence between you now grows more familiar as you walk wordlessly to your room, the round corner of the plastic keycard digging hard into your palm. It’s painfully awkward. Your echoing steps provide the only stable rhythm against the storm between you.

Beep. The door opens at your will with a swipe of the card.

You weren’t prepared for what exactly the deluxe room entails. Its size could easily be a tiny studio apartment: a small seating area consisting of a pearly white sofa and a glass coffee table so delicately built that you would not trust yourself near; a mini-kitchen on the left side of the room accompanied by a generously stocked beverage bar; a king-sized bed in the far right wine-red in colour and excessively buried in frivolous cushions. But the belle of the ball is really the glass panelled-wall at the back of the room that you face as you enter, spanning from ceiling to floor, opening up to the patio hand-plucked out of your dreams. Rose bushes, circular beige woven garden daybed, and not to mention the hot tub.

You are completely in awe. Your mind instantly flashes to Mykonos. This luxury is the furthest from a farm experience whatsoever. It really explains how every couple on this trip looks like the child of a wealthy politician with their finely manicured hands and sickly cologne.

“Woah.” An octave deeper than usual, Taehyung expresses his wonder as he surveys the extravagance that is your room. “This… How much must this have cost?”

“I have no idea.” You whisper, still in your state of near speechlessness while your feet take you to the glass wall.

This is a place of romantic films, a place for honeymoons. Everything is in a rose-gold tint, glistening almost mockingly under the soft February sun. Why are you here? You almost hear the slabs of sandstone ask.

Behind you, you hear him huff out the marvel that he is submerged in. His backpack slides off his shoulder, swung carelessly towards the loveseat. And plop he goes, starfished onto the bed.

Then the fear returns, reclaims its usual residence in your throat. As you pry your eyes away from the opulence of the veranda to look at Taehyung, his head lifts up at the same moment. The short-lived mist that clouded over your reality finally disperses.

You blink again at his sprawled out limbs. He blinks back.

It is as if a switch has flipped, the speed at which he jumps back onto his two feet, fright jarring his mouth agape. “I’llsleeponthesofa.” The slur of his words are unintelligible to your ears, but his display of alarm is almost comical, threatening a smile from the corners of your lips at the hysteria of your situation despite the same alarm you are experiencing.

“What?”

“I’ll sleep on the sofa.” His voice is firmer the second time he says it, tilting his chin up as if to reassure you of his confidence.

“It’s okay, I’ll sleep on the sofa.” You sigh because you know how much Taehyung is bursting to sleep in a king-sized bed. It was his first time in Mykonos, and you had not heard the end of how it was the best sleep he’s had in his lifetime. So imagine him now.

He bristles, a genuine look of offence fleets. “Of course not, I can’t allow that.”

“Why not?” Your tone with him is foreign, lacking the playfulness it once had - just an aloof callousness.

“‘Coz! I’m not gonna let you take the couch while I sleep on this massive bed.” He gestures at the couch for emphasis, letting his arm dangle afterwards. He is less different with you than you are with him, you note.

“You just answered my question with the very statement I was questioning you on.” You cross your arms and lean against the glass, allowing the warmth to bask through your shirt.

Taehyung frowns and mirrors your action, the muscle of his bicep flexing more than usual from the agitation in his motion. “‘Coz you’re a light sleeper. Just stop being stubborn and take the bed.”

You’re not quite sure why, of all things, ‘you’re a light sleeper’ is what moves you. The consideration he still holds for you inhibits any protest you wish to sound.

He cares about you, he clearly still does. Just like how you would willingly give up the bed for him.

God, you don’t want to fucking be here. You wish it didn’t have to be so painful, every single little interaction between you just reminding you again and again of how much you loved and hurt each other.

Taehyung takes your silence as compliance and begins to unpack, ruffling through his bag for a change of cooler clothes with his shoulders tense in discomfort. You know what the mature person in you should say: we can just share the bed. But you can’t think of a single reason why that would be a good idea.

With this Valentine’s trip completely planned for you two, it feels like the universe presenting you with an undeniable temptation. Everything around you is telling you to just get back with him, to give in to your inhibitions and fall back into him. You’ve got the champagne in the cooler, hot tub in the patio, rose petalled bed all laid out in front of you at your disposal. An inner voice chanting make up, make up, make up. Because what’s stopping you?

What’s stopping you is that look on his face when he saw Jimin fixing the back of his shoe beside you as you were walking him out. What’s stopping you is the sound of another girl moaning his name right down the hall from you.

So maybe some could see it as strength for resisting the yearning, for being able to put up a front and speak to him so indifferently. But you see it as weakness, because you still cannot move on.

Despite the sun blazing down your back, the cool gust of spring weather eases what otherwise would have been scorching heat. Never would you anticipate that you would be spending this weekend sifting through strawberry bushes to find large red ripe summer fruit, yet here you are. You don’t even think it’s strawberry season.

You’ve never been a country girl, but the dirt feels strangely comforting under your nails. Well, comforting is perhaps not the best word to describe your state of mind right now. As much tranquility as this farm is bringing you, with Taehyung always no more than two metres away from you, you don’t think you could ever relax.

In black sports shorts, plucking his own berries on the other side of the same very row of bushes, sweat trickling along the veins of his neck… Of course your attention is scattered.

Not to mention, you keep catching his shifting eyes. You thought you ought to say something, but what exactly? The awkwardness is prominent as it is.

A heavy exhale. You find a particularly large berry, leaves curling upwards to indicate its ripeness as the strawberry expert (yes, strawberry expert) had taught you. Pluck. And off it goes into your basket.

This is definitely therapeutic. You imagine every strawberry to be your feelings for Taehyung. This one over here shall symbolise his musky scent that you fall asleep to. Pluck. This one, his stupidly attractive perm, so long that even you would tell him to trim it because it’s covering his eyes. Pluck. His eyes… Especially when he’s confused as he makes that wide-eyed puppy dog face, which is very often. Pluck.

You glance up, you can’t help it.

And he’s already looking at you. Caught red-handed, literally red-handed because his hands are somehow stained with strawberry juice. Instantly he whips his head back down at his basket that is rested by his crouching knees, though there is not much in there for him to look at.

“Stop making this weirder than it already is.” He almost jumps when you speak, clearly not expecting any sort of interaction from your end.

Slowly, he glances back up at you, dark wavy fringe swaying from the slow tilt of his head. “I- Sorry, I wasn’t- Um, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

There’s something quite breathtaking about Taehyung under the sun, the way the rays reflect off his honey-tan skin to give an effulgent finish like a marble statue of some Ancient Roman God worshipped by priests and maidens. The coat of sweat gathered at his cupid’s bow could possibly be your undoing.

You love him, despite all the strawberries symbolic of his traits that you were picking.

And you hate yourself for that. You don’t want to feel like this anymore. You’re so sick of this heavily-hearted feeling of being dragged down by your emotions all the fucking time. You want to be able to look at him and feel nothing, look at him and not be intruded by the echoes of that night.

It makes you sick, the thought of him inside someone else. Physically sick to the core.

“Well, you are. So stop looking at me.” You state coldly. You just want to forget everything and let go of him, but his presence is not letting you do so. If being a bitch is what it takes, you’ll gladly be a bitch

“No, you have dirt on your face.”

Embarrassment slams into you like a wave, wielding you to shut your eyes and take a deep breath of humiliation. It’s instant karma for being a bitch. “Oh.” You say, carelessly wiping all over your cheeks with the back of your wrist, more with the intention of hiding the rush of blood to your face than to actually clean. You keep your eyes trained on a tiny pale berry in the bush, hoping that he’ll look away from you.

But he doesn’t. “You’re smearing it.” You look up to find his lips drawn in a tight line in attempt to hide his amusement. Everything is just working out wonderfully for you, isn’t it? Yet before your mind can process it, he rises from his crouch and leans over the short bushes.

When his thumb meets your cheek, it almost sears you. As his eyes are focused on the dirt on your face he’s brushing away, yours are locked on his gaze - gentle, warm, familiar. The collar of his shirt droops low, exposing his chiseled collar bones, protruding so enticingly as if for the sole purpose to catch your attention and remind you that it was one of your favourite places to bury your nose in.

Taehyung’s touch is heartbreakingly gentle; the rest of his fingers come under the side of your jaw for support, though only fleetingly. The whole exchange is brief, the dirt brushed away as swiftly as your relationship had crumpled.

You feel it in your nose first, that overwhelming wave of sadness, and then behind your eyes. You want to cry. You want to cry as he pulls away, as he realises that he has unconsciously acted out of familiarity, as a shyness reaches his eyes when he meets your glare.

It was only a mindless sweep of his thumb on your face, yet its impact is explosive under your skin, reminiscent of a time when such a touch had different implications, elicited a different response.

You quickly blink it away - the tears, but not the heartache. That wretched feeling in your throat does not permit you to thank him, so you just stare at each other, the world around you a mere blur of blues and greens. You watch his chest rise as he sucks in for air, wondering if the same memories are now visiting, no, haunting, him.

You can’t do this because you’re not strong enough. For you whole act of indifference in front of him, your constant resisting against the urge to fall back into him, you’re still not strong enough.

But to your surprise, or perhaps even gratitude, he’s the one who picks up his basket and paces away without another word. You watch the back of his calves, the slosh of his overgrown hair, as he walks away.

You stare out the glass door at the patio. It’s dark, you can scarcely see a thing with the lights outside switched off. It acts as a perfect canvas for your imagination, for scenes of your past together to materialise before you.

It’s not been a full day yet, and you already feel so drained. This is impossible. You want to call Lotta to pick you up, but upon deeper consideration, you don’t think you have the heart to. This must have cost her a considerable amount of money to book. She had the full intention that this will bring you and Taehyung back together, yet it is doing everything but. You don’t want to imagine her disappointment when you return in streams of tears.

After the session of strawberry-picking, your baskets were handed over for your fruits to be washed and prepared for your baking class tomorrow. Following that is your free time, when you are left to your own devices, at liberty to roam around the farm, dine at their organic restaurant by the hotel. Taehyung had taken Jae’s recommendation of visiting the spa; you opted to stroll (sulk) about, as far away from him as possible.

It’s unhealthy, this continuous bombardment of thoughts of him. Your month’s worth of progress has reduced to ashes.

Maybe you don’t even actually have feelings for him anymore. It could purely be a deception of the closeness you’ve developed for each other that you mistaken for love. You had spent almost every single day of the past two and a half years together, under the same roof, sharing a bed towards the last few months. It’s the safety and intimacy that your brain associates him with that forbids you from moving on.

Maybe you’re actually over him romantically. But the wanting, the missing him as your best friend still lingers.

The door to your room opens abruptly. Hair damp, Taehyung strolls inside in a white bathrobe and slippers, his clothes bunched up under his arm. Tiny beads of moisture dot the sparse view of his chest you have.

“Oh, you’re here.” He says, his step faltering at your clearly unanticipated presence. Or perhaps the sight of you, staring out into the dark, completely alone in this room is just awfully strange. “I thought you’d be eating at this time.” Eyes dropping to the ground as the door shuts behind him, his movements are clearly timid and weary, an rare expression on Taehyung.

“Not that hungry.” You mutter. “How was…” You ask out of habit, but immediately catch yourself. Quick eye contact before you both look away like docile animals. It’s too late for you to take back the question now anyway. “How was the spa?” And to make it appear that you don’t really care and was just asking out of courtesy, you turn back around to face out to the patio.

Completely unnecessary and petty move, whatever.

Except you see his reflection on the glass from the illuminated room all too well. Visibly easing that you’ve looked away, he plops his clothes down at the end of the bed and trails into the bathroom to fetch a towel for his hair. “Was really nice, they give good massages. You should give it a go at some point.”

“Okay.” He gives his head a good shake before drying with the towel. It feels creepy that he doesn’t know you are watching his reflection, so your eyes drop to your feet. You wonder if his masseuse was female. Not that it matters at all.

“What time are we meant to meet them for stargazing again?” He is speaking a lot - well, relatively. It saddens you that his usual tone of endearment when he would speak to you is now missing. It’s like speaking to a stranger, but worse, a stranger who takes a stab at your heart after every word.

“At 9, so that’s in…” You raise your wrist to find your watch absent from where it usually sits on your wrist. Right, you had removed it before strawberry-picking so it doesn’t get dirty and left it on the coffee table. Just as you turn around to retrieve it, you are met with Taehyung slipping his robe off. Your eyes widen.

The fluffy material glides down his shoulders like he’s made of gold, revealing the sculpture of his upper body that you scarcely recognise because he never used to be this toned. You thank any higher power there is that he is wearing his boxers, but they do nothing to conceal the faintest V at his hips and the bulk of his thighs. He isn’t bursting with muscle, but body definitely more well-defined than you remember.

“Have you been working out?” It just slips out. You wish, as the heat floods to dizzy your mind, that you had the capability of holding your tongue for once in your life.

Taehyung hesitates, Adam’s apple bobbing at his jugular. That shy awkwardness returns when your eyes meet. “Yeah. I mean a little, here and there…” Self-consciously, he brings his arm across his chest to rub at his bicep, but the gesture only flexes the muscle he has gained.

Your knees feel slightly weak. It’s the lack of dinner, you tell yourself. It’s not just your knees that feel weak though, your heart is thumping haphazardly into arrhythmia.

“But you hate exercise.” The stability in your voice surprises you.

“Yeah I did, but Seojoon said it’d help me take my mind off… things.” Lip between his teeth, Taehyung searches around for a top. Sheepishness in the form of a soft pink tint on his round cheeks turns you soft.

‘Things’, meaning you.

When you realise you’ve been staring, you immediately look down, fingers fiddling with each other like you’re some virgin freshly exposed to the spectacle of the male body. You’re anything but yourself, and so is he. Taehyung exercising? You almost scoff.

“You don’t have to… You’ve seen me naked, you know.” Taehyung mumbles, finally locating the sweatshirt he intends to wear. When you hear him pull it over himself, you sag in relief, the immense weight that his starkness strangely bestowed on you finally alleviated.

“Yeah, but it’s different now.” Now that we’re not together anymore. Not that we were ever together.

You know he feels it too, the sting of those words. The hurt in his eyes fill you with a sort of bitter self-resentment that you cannot wrap your head around. Stop looking at me like that. Stop making me feel like a bitch. Just stop hurting me.

“Yeah, it is.” But for some reason, it stings even more when he says it. His agreement should be a triumph, yet it feels more like the acknowledgement of the broken bridges between you.

When it comes from your mouth, it’s you convincing yourself more than anything. When it comes from his, it sounds like the truth.

Of the many things that are slowly killing Taehyung this weekend, the painfully awkward silence is among the most unbearable. It’s the loud kind of silence that he hates where there is clearly so much to say to each other yet none of it is coming out. There’s a vast ocean between you, roaring waves engulfing any sort of message he wishes to communicate.

This has to be one of the strangest experiences of his life - being set up by your friend on a couple’s trip to a resort disguised as a strawberry farm for Valentine’s day with you - and he has experienced a lot of weird shit in his life.

To be honest, he hasn’t been doing so great the past few weeks.

All the anger and bitterness had taken two days to melt away into miserable wretchedness. Two days, that’s all it took for him to not be angry with you anymore because there was one person he was angrier at - himself.

Because Taehyung was quick to realise that losing you is miles, miles, worse than what you had done to him. It was a sudden sort of realisation, the kind that hits you in the middle of doing something. What had he done?

The way he yelled at you, the things he said. His chest always sinks at the rememberance.

You didn’t know it was Jimin, you truly didn’t. But he exploded on you nonetheless, impermeable to your explanation. That wasn’t him. That raging bellowing man wasn’t him. If only he had just calmed down and talked it through with you, maybe he wouldn’t have been sleeping alone in your bed that your scent still clung on to.

And when he thinks about how you had heard him with that girl from the club, the bar, wherever his inebriated state took him that he doesn’t even remember…

Taehyung regrets everything.

How you got to this point was so extremely stupid. He should have just confessed to you, simple and easy, no complications needed. You are a commitment-phobe, he always knew he’d have to be the one to say it first. So why didn’t he? What the fuck was holding him back?

All he had to say was to not go on that date with Junho. That’s all you wanted. Why why why didn’t he just say how he felt?

Taehyung never knew himself to be a crier before this. He had shed a tear or two when he found out about Ryujin’s cheating and his friends’ betrayal; that was a stab in the back that left him gutted from the inside. Yet still, he got by, he survived because he found you. And he had naively thought, I managed to bear through this so nothing can really be worse than this now can it?

It can, and it did.

Once it starts, it won’t stop. The tears. A great tempest swallowing him whole and dragging him under until all he could hear was his own pounding heart. It is always before bed, when he would have the time to himself to truly think and reflect. But sometimes it comes during the day as well. He will be doing something as mundane as washing his hair in the shower, and he would suddenly break down because you had left him your shampoo that you would always get annoyed at him for using.

The house just feels empty. The absence of your voice, your warmth, your lips pressed on his neck every morning before his eyes even fully opened. Gone.

Yet, every corner is etched with the memories you share, your ghost lingering by the sofa that you adore whenever he’s watching TV, or curled up beside him every night in bed. It’s impossible to forget you.

Even as Seojoon moved in to fill your vacated room and help with the rent, the place was cold. It will never be the same because nothing could ever replace you. Everything he had and cherished - swept away just like that by none other than his own mistakes.

Yes, you had hurt him a lot. At the time, that pain felt insurmountable, like the worst thing you could ever do to him. But ultimately, upon the endless nights of thinking, he has realised that what hurt him the most was not you, but losing you. Not Jimin, not Junho, but how what could have been between you two fell apart so quickly by the poor choices you both made.

“Now if you look up to your left, you might be able to see one of our February constellations, the Pictor.” Jae announces, voice full of an enthusiasm that Taehyung could only envy as he guides the tour group towards the centre of a large plain field behind the hotel where you will all be stargazing. It is a lovely, breezy, cloudless night. You are several paces ahead of Taehyung, keenly reading the constellation manual leaflet lit up by your phone; he knows just how much of an astronomy geek you are. “It consists of four stars, as shown on your Star Guide, that are actually very dim and usually not easily spotted. The name Pictor means the Painter’s easel.”

Taehyung stops. Despite the darkness, he sees your shoulders tense too.

The easel you had gifted him on his birthday sits in his closet, stowed away from being a constant reminder of how much you loved him and how much he should have held on. It just sits there, collecting dust, untouched since the day you left.

The halt in Jae’s walking indicates your arrival to the intended location. “Here we are. Let’s settle down, love birds. I’ll set up this gorgeous telescope for anyone who wants to explore the sky in greater focus which I highly recommend.”

Spreading across the field, the group unrolls the picnic blankets you’ve all been given, dropping down to rest atop the covered grass.

No time is wasted from everyone else to snuggle up to their boyfriends, girlfriends, husbands, wives. The atmosphere is sickly, even for Taehyung. The couples around him have done little to hide their affection for each other since the beginning of the trip. It is a romantic vacation after all, but is it really so necessary to display your love so publicly?

You stand static and poker-faced on the other side of the mat, clear signs of reluctance to participate plastered all over you.

Taehyung has never stargazed before, let alone in this context. The stiffness in your movement as you sink down onto your knees and lie down in discomfort makes him wince. He realises now that neither of you have a choice but to put away any ill feelings and lay beside each other.

As he gets down next to you, his head nearly tumbles out his chest at the sudden proximity that he has grown so unused to. In the dark, your scent washes up to him like a timid tide lapping at the shore, hair swaying off your shoulders as you get onto your back. The size of the mat does not permit him elsewhere other than immediately beside you, no more than five inches from touching shoulders. Five inches from touching.

Truthbetold, Taehyung feels himself going insane. It started from the moment he saw you on the bus, your wide eyes, parted lips, so pretty despite the look of terror you wore. He didn’t think he would have the chance to see you any time soon. He hadn’t truly comprehended the magnitude at which he missed you until he saw you again.

And he has been spiralling since. Every gesture making his senses scream in agony, the desire to just talk to you mangling at him. He misses you like crazy. Not necessarily in that way, but just your presence, your funny comments, your feign annoyance when he annoys you. He misses the companionship.

You are both on your back now, the blanket feeling either slightly damp or too cold for comfort. The star-speckled sky hanging above you both is endless, a panoramic painting from east to west. You stare at the sky like it’s your lover, so Taehyung does the same. Astronomy doesn’t interest him as much as the meaning and purpose behind the act of stargazing. The people he’s with and the memories he makes.

Wordless, you stare at the sky, ignorant to his presence. The soft hum of everyone else’s whispers accentuates that frustrating silence between you. Taehyung is so fucking tired of the silence because he’s bursting with things to say to you, to ask you.

“Are we just not going to speak?”

His question startles you for you almost, almost, turn to look at him. The slight angling of your head before you catch yourself does not go unmissed by him.

“What do you want to speak about?” Taehyung hates the coldness in your voice. The unfeeling sounds so real. Why are you being this way? Do you seriously want nothing to do with him? That possibility scares him above all else.

Someone giggles a few yards from you two. On this large grassland, the couples are dispersed in their own little bubble of sweet affection, but not enough for his ears to not pick up these little sounds that send courses of envy through his vessel.

“What do you think?” The four weeks you spent apart were four weeks of lamenting over all the things he should have said, and all that he shouldn’t. And Taehyung’s is done with regretting unspoken words. He just wants to get everything out in the open, out of his system, so he can move on.

“I mean-”

“Look, Y/N. This is stupid, the whole ignoring each other thing. Don’t you just want to say your piece and get that weight off your chest?” In the distance, crickets chirp faintly. The discomfort shuddering in the five-inch area between your shoulders is screaming volumes. Taehyung doesn’t turn away from the sky for the fear of the expression he would see you wear.

He expects a note of irritation in your voice, for you to start arguing with him which he truthfully doesn’t mind because that is at least progress. But instead he gets a quiet defeat. “I don’t want to reopen wounds that are already ripping open, Taehyung.”

It wrenches his soul, truly. He doesn’t recognise you when you speak anymore, both with the things you say, and the way you say it. “Talking will help it heal.” Because that’s both your final goals here - to heal, to be cured of the ailment that is heartbreak.

“How exactly is it going to change anything?”

“I don’t know. We’ve had time to calm down and think and I think we should have some closure so we end on a good note.”

It’s funny now, how Taehyung is the one pleading to speak to you when he should be the one who’s angry at you because you were the one to commit the last and biggest fault. He doesn’t see it like that though, that’s all in the past. To be friends with you again, that’s all he wishes for, he doesn’t care about anything else at this point.

“So this is about amicability to you? You want to end on good terms.” Neither of you still dare to look at the other, eyes locked on the stars but somewhere distant.

“Well, yeah. Do you not?” He asks. He hadn’t expected you to be this uneasy, he thought you would have liked the idea of peace amongst you. “Everything towards the end happened so quickly, wouldn’t you like some closure?

“I would rather take my time and heal in my own way. To be honest, I don’t have anything to say to you about that topic except that I’m sorry, but I’m sure you’re sick of hearing that. It’s pointless.”

You’re coping with this differently, Taehyung understands. But it doesn’t take much effort to be pleasant towards each other, to smile and greet each other like normal people instead of scrambling away from every eye contact. How do you suppose you’d be able to move on like that?

“So not even friends right now?” He tries one last time. A soft breeze washes over you, wafting your scent towards him.

“No, I don’t want to be friends right now.”

Your bluntness stings. Taehyung finally gives in and turns to face you. Your striking profile greets him, your eyes still stubbornly glued to the sky. Your unwillingness to budge or compromise even a little bit is frustrating.

“We were best friends for the past two and a half years. More than best friends, we were literally two peas in a pod; we lived together, ate together, studied together, slept together. And now we don’t even talk. You’re okay with losing that? You’re telling me that I’m the only one who misses it more than anything else?” His angry whisper sounds ridiculous as he tries to keep his volume down, conscious of the setting he’s in.

But then he sees you blink, hard. Then blink again. Your pursed lip trembles. Another two consecutive blinks. When you look at him, your eyes are so glassy that they reflect the entirety of the galaxy above. “How am I supposed to be your friend right now when I can’t even look at you without feeling this great pang of sadness every time?” Taehyung immediately wishes he hadn’t pushed you.

“I… just would rather have you in my life as a friend than not have you at all.” His voice softens to a tone more apologetic. He is the reason for the tears you’re holding back right now and he despises it.

“I would rather not have you in my life at all while I slowly get over you than have you as just a friend because my heart can’t take this constant torture. I just want to be over you but I can’t do that if I have to pretend to be okay around you. And I just don’t get it Taehyung. How are you so willing to be friends again? After what I did, how could you look at me and not hate me?”

Taehyung frowns at you because he doesn’t see how you can’t understand it’s not about that anymore. It’s not about the blame, the who did what to who. He doesn’t care anymore but the fact that you do is alarming. You still can’t let it go.

“Okay, so is this about you not forgiving yourself?” He prods, and watches the brief flash of confusion on your face.

“I-” You’re quick to dispute but stop. Because it’s the truth.

A long silence ensures. You stare at the collar of his sweatshirt, zoned out. Taehyung knows you’re in deep contemplation, you know his points have strong grounds. There is no reason for hostility or callousness between you because it would only hurt each other more.

“Look,” He takes a deep breath. “I just think that it’s unhealthy for you to act like this. You’re burying and burying what you’re feeling without actually facing it. Trying to be friends is a good first step in accepting that we’re not together anymore; being cold to each other isn’t. Think about it.”

Another long pause. He watches you blink, watches your chest rise and fall at every breath.

“I understand your point, I know my coping mechanism isn’t healthy but it’s all that I know right now. We’re different, we’re hurting differently and healing differently. I’m sorry for acting out on you when it’s myself who I want to punish. But I seriously don’t have the strength to be your friend right now, I wish I did but I really don’t. Just give me time.” The fact that you’re not arguing with him says a lot; you have both matured from this experience. It’s sad that this is what it took for you to do so.

“Okay. I respect that.” Taehyung says. “I’m sorry for pushing this onto you, it’s selfish of me, sorry. I just… I don’t know, I guess I’m pathetic. You were my best friend and I want to salvage it as much as I can. I just miss you, that’s all.”

You don’t say anything, but Taehyung is okay with that. Because he knows you miss him too, you miss the friendship, the having each other to lean on.

The difference between you and him is that you can’t compartmentalise your lingering feelings for him and put that aside right now, whereas he can. You need to rid those feelings before you can be his friend, and he’s okay with that.

He stares at Pictor, it’s four weak stars that dim beside much brighter constellations yet somehow call to him. And he almost smiles.

You stare at your own reflection in the mirror.

That conversation with Taehyung resonates with you more than you’d care to let on. You let every single word he said sink in, your inner turmoil contemplating the points he made. Because he definitely has a point.

What resonates with you most is the word closure.

He’s right, everything between you ended so quickly that there was no time to process and accept it until it was already over. Maybe that’s why you’re finding it so hard to let go. If you were to be friends again, you could at least normalise his presence and gradually move past this.

Twisting the faucet on, you splash some water on your face to clear this dilemma from your head. And after wiping yourself dry, you exit the bathroom into your room with a great sigh.

Taehyung is wearing the grey hoodie - that’s the first thing you notice. As in the grey hoodie you would always claim as your own because of how soft its material is. The grey hoodie that you regret giving back to him. The grey hoodie that he would always wear when you guys gamed at midnight and it would always end with you on his lap, his locks tangled in your fingers while his mouth explored yours.

You take it back, fuck being friends, you’re back to square one.

He glances up in the dark, eyes surveying your silhouette from head to toe as he places a pillow on one end of the couch. Ever since that conversation, there’s the most subtle difference in his permanent expression - his lips look inclined to smile, his eyes hold an understanding for you that makes you feel vulnerable.

And, god, it makes you want to try. He deserves it, to have his best friend back in his life even if that best friend is you, the person he trusted the most in the world only to turn around and impale him in the chest with those stupid decisions of yours.

The omnipresence of your awkwardness hasn’t faltered though. “Taehyung, I said I would take the couch.” You protest, though you’re starting to see that it’s futile. You may be the more stubborn one between the pair, but there are certain things that Taehyung would never back down from.

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen, Y/N.” The corner of his lip turns up properly now, like he’s silently snickering at a joke he thought of. “That’s just - not gonna happen.”

“What’s so funny?” Switching the bathroom lights off behind you, you ask. You hadn’t packed well for this trip, you are only in a flimsy camisole and a pair of sweats, the cold air coaxes goosebumps on your skin. His gaze follows you as you draw the curtains shut over the glass wall, leaving only a strip of moonlight streaming in.

“Nothing.” Taehyung places both hands on the top of his head, an action that causes his hoodie to slightly ride up his torso. You fix your eyes on the floor as you approach him and the sofa. “It’s just funny how you think I’d ever let you sleep on the couch while I sleep on the bed.”

There is a dead end down this path you’re going, neither of you would let the other win. So you simply ignore him and situate yourself on the couch, stretching your legs to span it wholly. “Good night.” Fixing the pillow he had placed, you shut your eyes.

“What, no.” You can hear the smile wipe off his face, almost making you chuckle out loud. “Y/N, get up.” Hastily he hovers over you. But when you show no sign of acknowledgement, he shuffles away. A moment later, you feel a great gust of air, then the softest silkiest duvet landing over you.

Your eyes fly open. And there Taehyung stands with his arms crossed smugly. “If you take the couch, you also take the covers.”

“No! You’ll be cold.”

“You’ll be cold. You’re not wearing enough.”

You give up. “Oh, for god’s sake, Taehyung. Fine. Let’s both sleep on the bed, okay?” His entire expression dilates. He doesn’t even blink as you get off the couch and cross your arms back at him. “Problem solved.”

Taking his wrist in one hand, dragging the plush duvet in the other, you walk to the bed and sit him down. No noise of protest emits from him, so you go back to retrieve the pillow from the couch in a huff.

“Are you sure?” His voice is suddenly timid, unsure. And he’s right to be so, because you’re quaking on the inside as well at the prospect of sleeping beside him.

It’s not going to be good for your heart, you know that definitely. But like he said, you need to face this. If you touch a paper cut enough times, it stops hurting. “It’s just sleeping, it’s no big deal.” You lie. “You want to be friends right? Well let’s start with this. Let’s stop being stupid and childish.” You can’t look him in the eye as you rearrange the bedding back to its original state before Taehyung messed it up.

His reply merely a quiet yeah… before you both hesitantly crawl under the covers and tuck in. Heat flushes to your face as you do so because the action feels so familiar, yet everything about it is different.

Absolute silence. Backs facing each other. An arm's length or two between you but it feels like more. You don’t even shut your eyes because why pretend that you’ll fall asleep?

Your own palpitation is so vigorous that it’s audible. The thoughts whizzing around in your head are unstoppable, a persistent prodding at your skull. His scent is strong, that sweet honey musk that used to seduce you to sleep now the very thing that’s keeping you up.

It must be, what, ten? twenty minutes? of just laying there as you ponder your future with Taehyung, if you want a future at all. He’s right, you miss his friendship above all else. As much as you love Lotta, there is an intangible quality missing between you, that extra spark that existed between Taehyung which boosted your dynamic up to an incomparable level. You understood each other without having to speak, care about each other more than yourselves - that love was almost familial. Losing that has been too much.

Then you hear Taehyung shift onto his back. “Y/N?” Your heart skips a beat.

“Yeah?” You answer after a pause, mind racing through all the possibilities of what he could say. You hate this permanent uncertainty of what he’s thinking.

Silence follows for a short while, the endless possibility of what he’s going to say flooding your mind. Then, “You know how I can’t sleep without holding something?”

You stop breathing.

Because you see very clearly where this is going, and it’s down a road that you don’t know if you can withstand.

He can’t sleep without holding you. Holding you.

You take a deep breath and clamp down on your lip, grateful that your back is facing him so he can’t see the pathetic weakness on your face. Can you do this?

Can you do this without wanting to cry? Can you do this without succumbing to your momentary desire to just turn around and kiss him because you won’t be able to think straight with his arms around you? You’re really not sure.

“Yes…?”

“Can I…” Something rustles the covers, perhaps his arm, or maybe he’s inching closer. In the pitch black night, every movement feels amplified, more impactful. “You know…”

“Can you what?” You’re not being difficult, you’re giving him the chance to take back on this request. To just say nevermind and turn back around. Because you’re not equipped for his touch; you don’t want it, you don’t want the pain that comes with it.

Another pause. Take the chance, please. But his deep hesitant voice sounds in the dark, “Can I hold you please?”

You shut your eyes. That feeling in your nose again, that rush. Hold it in, don’t cry, stupid emotional bitch, don’t cry. What’s there to cry about? You wonder if this torment will end, and you wonder if you could ever stop feeling this much for him.

“I swear I’m not trying anything, I genuinely can’t sleep.” His voice has a way of penetrating deep into your bones, begging you even if it’s not his intention to.

You could say no, right? Just say no.

But that isn’t facing it, that isn’t overcoming your heartbreak. If your goal of this trip is to come out of this weekend completely devoid of feelings for him, then you need to let him stop affecting you.

“Okay. Please don’t make it weird.” You whisper, not daring to move a muscle.

Taehyung sags in relief, the bed dipping with his weight. “I won’t, I promise.” The sound of him shuffling closer to you constricts your throat. You close your eyes, awaiting the warmth of his front to meet your back, counting down in your head for that dreaded moment to come. “Come closer.” He murmurs.

When his hand fits around your waist, you know it’s an act of unconscious habit rather than intent. Slowly, he drags you into the enclosure of his chest, his scent and heat enshrouding you until you are completely engulfed by him.

He exhales, the fingertips of his breath caressing your hair ever so gently.

Every fibre in your body is tensing, eyes firmly shut and toes curled inwards. His hand feels enormous on your waist, holding you the only way he has ever known how to. With a unique type of affection that is so pure and devoted, yet also with a hint of protectiveness and possession.

Taehyung lets go of your waist only to encircle his arms around you entirely, his legs curling up under yours until you’re both cocooned together.

“You okay?” The back of your neck feels tender, sensual even, from the tickling heat of his breath. You’re too keenly aware of how close your heads are positioned, of the searing sensations that his hands are causing.

No, you’re not okay. Your skin has been lit on fire. Memories that you’ve long since tried to bury are surging back at full force, slamming into you one after the other. He’s too close, he’s everywhere. There is no distance separating you right now, yet you still feel miles away from him; you can’t comprehend his intentions nor decipher his thoughts. The fit of the crook of your back into his chest is perfect, a heartbreaking kind of perfect. This feels so so familiar. This is exactly what you had yearned and dreamt for every night for the past month - to be in his arms again. So why does it hurt even more than being alone?

Instead, you nod, “Mmm, yeah.”

A compulsion is yanking at you to lean back into him.

Taehyung exhales again and rests his cheek on the back of your shoulder where he always used to perch. If you were naked right now, he would be speckling this shoulder with soft dainty petal kisses. You hate that there is still a part of you, and mind you a very significant part, that wants it.

Your hands are inches away from touching each other; just one lift of your wrist and your fingers can clasp. The urge indunates you.

It would be so easy right now to just succumb - let your hand crawl into his because you know he would hold it, turn around and start kissing up his jaw until your tongues are tangled. You think it’s purely physical, these impulses, at least that’s what you want them to be. You just miss the intimacy, that’s all. But then why does it feel like you’ve swallowed a kaleidoscope of butterflies? Except their wings are made of glass, and everytime they flutter, you feel the shards scratch along your insides. There is desire laced in the pain. You don’t know which one is worse.

What baffles you the most is how he is alright with this, how he initiated this. He said he wants to at least be your friend, but this surely feels like a breach of friendship to anyone. Holding each other in bed is not being friends. But then again, you both have always had a warped perception of what friends should be doing.

You don’t understand how it’s so different for him. How the areas where you are touching, even if separated by layers of clothes, doesn’t tear through his sanity. If he doesn’t feel the same crack in his heart, then what does he feel?

With every heavy breath he takes, you take a silent one, eyes shut and praying to be swept away by the sleep that you don’t believe will reach you. You haven’t slept well since that night. Taehyung, on the other hand, you know is instantly sound asleep. It never used to take him more than five minutes as long as you were in his clutch.

But then, maybe there is a soothing essence in his presence with his overwhelming pleasant scent and rhythmic breathing, or maybe you’ve just exhausted your body with constant overthinking, a hazy fog drifts over your consciousness. You’re so tired, physically and mentally drained... And Taehyung feels so warm and snug around you...

The last thought you have before you drift off into reverie is that you feel his fingers slide between yours, holding not firmly but with intent. And you don’t know if it was you or him who moved it so.

You wake up from the damp heat gathered in all your crevices, the thin coat of sweat mildly irritating your skin. You are facing the glass door to the patio, and though the curtains conceal much of the windows, strips of sunlight topple past the cracks and unfurl into your room.

Taehyung’s arm is around you. Still.

After these years of living together, you know everything about Taehyung like that back of your hand. You can tell whether he’s awake or not from his breathing. And he’s most definitely asleep, though only lightly.

You look down and examine your position. In the course of the night, his forearm has travelled progressively higher until it is just about cradling your breasts. One of his legs is thrown over yours, entrapping you in his embrace. In his tangle of limbs, you slowly try to twist onto your back while prying him off.

He stirs, pulls you in tighter.

Which lands your rear in the unfortunate position of right atop his crotch. His crotch that is very much awake and way too excited.

Lethargy immediately expelled, your eyes open wide.

Morning wood is a usual occurrence for Taehyung, especially after a night of merciless teasing, but randomly a lot of the times. You shouldn’t be as surprised as you are, nor aroused. He has mentioned before how uncomfortable it can be, a blaring hard presence, a sore tension waking him up in an unforgiving manner. Which means that he can precariously wake any second n-

“Mmmm.” Voice an octave deeper than its norm, he hums, announcing his returning consciousness.

Taehyung’s morning wood and morning voice. You are being tested right now.

Your concupiscence has been gradually building up in the last few weeks from the lack of any sexual activity save for your own fingers and toys. It’s human nature, and completely goes against your will - but you feel the old friend that goes by the name lust stirring at the pit of your stomach.

At your proximity, the tip of his member digs deep between your cheeks, prodding at your entrance incontestably. Your whole body stiffens as the slowly waking Taehyung nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck habitually, arm tensing around you. Ever so slowly, you look back to steal a glance. His wildly curly hair falls over his forehead gracefully, lashes fanned out from his closed lids. He’s too beautiful for his own good.

Your core dampens and you quickly turn back around.

Fuck, please, no. You can’t be thinking about him like that. It’s so wrong. But his erection burrowed between your ass is banishing any clarity or sense from your head.

But God, you fucking miss this.

You’re going mad from deprivation. The dry spell of the past month had been voluntary, on the basis that you knew it wasn’t a healthy coping mechanism because you would only picture Taehyung over the faces of those nameless men. And because you knew no one knows you as well as he does, thus no one will succeed in satisfying you as well as him. Your sex drive was non-existent right after the break-up; sex simply didn’t cross your mind once while you were nursing your broken heart. And then it came ebbing back, though faintly and infrequently, you regained your libido and would find yourself fantasising on some lonesome nights.

But now, the situation at hand is that: you’ve allowed Taehyung to cuddle you in his sleep and you’ve consequently woken up to his undeniably hard cock poking between your legs. And he is seconds away from fully waking up as well.

So what now?

“Taehyung.” You say firmly, pushing his arm away from your breasts. It’s best if you call him out for it now rather than let it hang awkwardly in the air unsaid.

“Hmmmm..?” He rumbles sleepily. You don’t have to turn around to be able to envision his face, eyes slowly blinking open but reluctant as ever, true to his deep sleeper title.

“Taehyung.” This time you nudge back gently for emphasis. What it achieves is additional friction. Your whole lower half achse to grind back onto him, to slide over his hardened cock, to reach back and pump it in your hands.

Fuck.

You can’t.

You could, so easily, but you shouldn’t. You and Taehyung are completely over in every sense of your relationship. You can’t let this moment of weakness strip away all your efforts in moving on.

“Wha…” He mumbles, finally peeling his arm off you to stretch out. A loud yawn ensues. You take the opportunity of his loosened hold around you to twist back and pin him with a glare, hoping that your thirst is masked.

“You’re hard.”

Eyes still puffy, he stops mid-stretch at those two words. And looks down.

Did he… not notice? Or did he, in his morning hazy, momentarily get the situation confused and forget that you weren’t together?

Taehyung scrambles away from you so abruptly that he almost falls off the bed. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t- It just- I can’t control it, Y/N, you know I can’t.” His stammering is followed by his jerky movements to readjust his bulge as discreetly as one can allow in such situation. The detonation of terror on his face exacerbates your embarrassment. Because you simply don’t know what to do with yourself - with your core tingling in arousal simultaneously as your brow twitches in annoyance. When your vexed eyes meet his, you see another wave of panic crash onto him.

How did you get in this situation in the first place? If only you had just slept on the couch last night…

“Yeah, I know, stop reacting like that. Don’t make it weirder than it already is.” You berate, yanking the covers with all your strength over your shoulder and roll away from him. The distance is more for your own good. You can’t be near him right now, you can’t think about his fucking cock slipping into you.

You want to fuck. You want to fuck Taehy-

Stop that fucking thought.

“I’m sorry.” His morning voice, oh god. Burying your face into the pillow does little against the fluid pooling in your panties.

“Can you go to the toilet and… fix yourself.” When the words leave your mouth, the imagery of him fixing himself flashes before your eyes. And something pulses violently down there. Fucking fuck.

“Um, okay, sorry.” You try to not peek at him as he gets up from the bed, slightly limping as he makes his way to the toilet. But you succumb nonetheless.

His cheeks are scarlet, veins bulging on the side of his forehead, and you’re not sure if it’s from his embarrassment or the discomfort of the boner. Your eyes drop from his profile because his morning face has always been one of your weaknesses, except unfortunately for you, your eyes land on his bulge.

Another pulse down there.

You hate yourself. You feel dirty for even thinking about him like that because it’s so wrong. But then again, he’s probably thinking about you like that as well, hence the raging erection.

When the bathroom door shuts behind him, you let out a sigh. You don’t know how long you can keep hold of your sanity for like this. You’re swimming in a sea of confusing emotions: the constant melancholy you have of missing him and missing the way things were before you had fucked it up; the desperation to move on and understand that he was only a chapter of your life that is now closed; the bitter resentment that you have for yourself as a consequence of not being able to do so; and now the inescapable desire aching between your thighs because of how inherent these memories are of how he would fuck you until you cry like nobody else could.

What doesn’t help is the hint of a slow pumping rhythm from the toilet, and Taehyung’s ragged breathing.

Fuck.

You don’t want to think about how he’s jerking off on the other side of the wall right now, gripping his cock as he leans against the sink, head thrown back. But that’s exactly what you’re thinking about.

Is he thinking of you as he’s doing it? You’re not sure if you want him to, because while you wish he wouldn’t, you also hope that this lust you feel is reciprocated still, that you’re not the only one going crazy with arousal.

Your hand almost trails down to your core when his pace quickens, but his sharp inhale strikes at your inner righteousness. You stop, sit up and rush out to the patio for some fresh air.

Happy Valentine’s Sunday indeed.

The dough feels sticky in your hand despite the layers of flour you’ve doused your fingertips in. Baking has never been your forte, you simply don’t have the patience or precision for such a crafty hobby. You glance over to check on Taehyung’s progress at the other half of the counter.

He has the easy job. Of course, when it came to allocating roles between the pair of you in this baking session, the jam-making landed on him because there’s no way he would succeed in making the strawberry tart.

You can’t help but smile at the way his lips are puckered and brows drawn in concentration as he chops the berries as finely as he could. But the way the top half of his hair is pulled back into a little sprout of a ponytail… You gulp.

Neither of you have spoken a word of this morning’s awkward event; it had been a tacit agreement not to as soon as you made eye contact when he stepped out of the bathroom. It has set a lewd tone for the rest of your day. At every blank moment where your mind isn’t preoccupied, especially when you’re doing something as frivolous and kneading dough, your thoughts would wander to the memories of his warm rigid-

You stop yourself. You’re in public and he’s chopping strawberries right next to you.

You’ve noticed how, every time you’d have those sinful thoughts, your mood would lighten a little. The pang in your heart that used to always plague you would profoundly diminish. Of all things, of course sex is what eases your sadness the most, that’s just so characterisitic of you isn’t it?

“Is everything going well?” One of the baking assistants comes over to your counter for the seventh time now (yes you’re counting). She is a petite, rather pretty, pleasant looking girl. And you have not failed to notice how every time she checks up on you two, her attention is always solely on Taehyung. Here you are struggling with your asscheek of dough yet she only cares to ask how Taehyung, the strawberry chopper, fares?

“Yup.” Taehyung spares her a brief glance before dumping the diced pieces of fruit into the saucepan.

“Would you like some more flour?” You almost scoff out loud. You’re the one working with flour over here! Why is she asking him?

“No, thanks.” He doesn’t look up this time.

The assistant smiles to herself as if he’d said something particularly sweet to her. Until her eyes land on you. “Uh- What about you, ma’am?”

“All.” You land a punch on the buttery dough, death glare and all. “Good.” Another punch. Eyes not once wavering. She has the brains to scramble away.

You don’t have the right to assert this sort of possessiveness over Taehyung. But it’s the principle. This is a couple’s romantic holiday; she must be under the presumption that you and Taehyung are together, so how does she still dare to ogle over him like that?

“She’s flirting with you.” You rumble when she’s out of earshot.

Taehyung looks up at you from stirring his jam mixture, his lips still slightly pouted from his focus. “What? Who?”

“That baking assistant who came over just now.” You grit, trying to suppress this irrational vexation.

“Oh. Really?” Clueless, he scans across the room. “Was that the blonde or the brunette one?”

It’s a relief how truly oblivious he is that you don’t bother answering his question. It’s also completely unlike him. Since when did Kim Taehyung not notice when a girl takes interest in him? How fascinating must those strawberries be to capture his undivided attention like that?

“Would you like some flour?” You mimic, batting your lashes at him.

A wide grin spreads across his cheeks. To be honest, you don’t know what prompted you to display such friendliness to him all of a sudden. Perhaps what happened this morning, or even the fact that you slept on the same bed last night, breached one of the walls towering between you. It’s progress.

“You’ve got flour on your face.”

Fuck, again? You need to stop handling stuff like dirt and flour because they keep ending up on your face. “Ugh.” You huff, trying to let the embarrassment brush off. “Where?”

From the mischievous smirk that his grin morphed into, you should’ve known. Before you could suspect, Taehyung dabs one of his fingers into a small pile of flour and smears it down your cheek. “There.”

“You-!” You gasp, your own finger already caked in flour flying for a counter attack at his face.

But his reflexes are fast as he catches your wrist in lightning speed and tugs you towards him, his other hand simultaneously slathering another streak of white down the bridge of your nose. You tumble into him, foolish grin on your face as you twist your wrist out of his grip and manage to smear your floury thumb onto his chin.

Taehyung catches you before you could trip over your feet, smiling so wide for the first time this weekend that you can’t help but giggle. His grip on your waist feels warm. You’re close enough that you have to crane your neck to see him, close enough to see the individual hairs of his brows.

Yes, something has definitely shifted since last night.

The desire is a flame, devouring all your other senses until all you can focus on is his touch, his molten chocolate eyes, his tongue swiping out to wet his lips. You just want to…

Kiss him.

You admit it, you want to kiss him so fucking badly.

Ignition in his eyes, he stares at your lips too, smile slowly faltering. The hammering of your spastic heart cancels out all other noise in the room; you don’t see anything else except him. He doesn’t move, and neither do you. That lustful monster in your mind screams, Damn the consequences. Just kiss. Fuck being friends and fuck being strangers. Kiss him.

“Alright, lovebirds over there. These pastries won’t make themselves. Let’s get cracking!” Both of you jump and the sound of the head chef calling.

A bucket of ice cold water showers over you, extinguishing that prosperous flame. And reality materialises once again around you.

Not just the physical reality, but the reality of your situation as well - you can’t, you shouldn’t be acting like this around each other. There’s being friends, and then there’s this. The line is fine, it has always been.

It’s difficult to separate the weeds of these conglomerated emotions. You miss each other, want to kiss each other. You want the hurting to end, he wants to be friends. Your break up had been too messy for either of you to have a clear vision of what you need to do to overcome this.

Except maybe there is a cure-all solution to this.

You return to your ball of dough as Taehyung goes back to stirring his boiling jam. Yet your attention is now scattered, because a seed of an idea, most probably a very bad one, has been sown in your head.

It is most definitely a reckless idea, one that has the potential of going very south.

You bring it up during dinner, the supposed “romantic candlelit dinner with a string quartet” which neither of you are remotely dressed well enough for. “Taehyung, you know how you talked about closure and all that yesterday?”

Taehyung pauses, forkful of tenderloin steak stopped in midair. “Yeah..?” The hope in his voice is infused with an uncertain hesitation.

“I think we should have sex. One last time. For closure.”

The violin strikes a particularly high pitch in the background. Taehyung doesn’t move a hair for at least a good ten seconds before he blinks at you. This was definitely not what he’d anticipated from you, you can tell. But well, of course it isn’t. The idea surprised yourself.

“What? I think I heard something else, say that again?”

Oh boy. “No, you heard it right. I said I think we should sleep together for closure.” You sound unsteady to your own ears. “Release all this pent up sexual frustration we have for each other one last time and then be done with this. You said you want to be friends, right? I actually think it’s going to work for me, I’ll be able to move on afterwards, I’m almost certain.”

Frowning, Taehyung puts his fork down. “Really…? You want to have sex?”

“Yes.” You’re not even going to be shy about it at this point. You weren’t sure how this scene was going to play out but you’d envisioned it to go much smoother than this. “Do you want to?”

“I mean…” Colour of wine stains his cheeks. “Yeah… But are you sure? You were just saying last night how you can’t look at me without hurting. Do you understand why this is confusing for me?”

“I know it sounds contradictory and counterproductive, but-” You halt when you realise that there is no but. You don’t know how to verbalise the explanation that convinced you in your head. “Look at it as break up sex. It’s a common thing because it works. Like you said, we ended so quickly, in a blink of an eye. Just see this as the closing chapter of our relationship. If you don’t want to do it, just say it. I just had to throw it out there.”

Worry drips down your throat when his blank expression remains unchanged - worry that you’ve made a fatally wrong move to make things irreparably awkward now, if he so wishes not to follow through with your suggestion.

But then he nods, ponderously and maybe not entirely convinced, but you’ll take it. “I think you have a point… The thing about closure and ending this better than we did the first time round.”

“So… You’re down.”

“Down.”

So, the rest of dinner flies by with the two of you wolfing down your meal as hastily as you can. The entire time, your mind is buzzing with a strange sort of excitement for you are confident that this is necessary in accelerating your process of recovery.

You and Taehyung started with sex, so naturally, you should end with sex.

If you are eating cookies from a jar and that jar is suddenly taken away from you, you would be overcome with a surge of anger and unjust. You will always remember that awful person who took it from you. But if you are told that the jar will be taken away and the cookie in your hand is the last one you can ever have, you will cherish this last cookie and take your time eating it. It would taste different from all the other cookies you’ve had in the past - better, sweeter, because you know that it’s the last one.

Taehyung is quiet, indecipherable as you stroll back to the room. You understand his doubt, you really do. Because a night ago, if he’d have offered you the same suggestion, you would’ve thought he’s insane. But after the incident this morning, and the sparse flirtation throughout the day, there is a clear indication of unresolved sexual tension on both ends.

End this once and for all with a bang.

“Are you really up for it, Taehyung?” You check one last time, swiping the keycard at the door. “If you’re not comfortable, then we shouldn’t.”

When you look back as you push open the door, you catch his eyes, filled with purpose and trust. “No, you’re right. We need the closure.”

As the door closes behind you after you enter, it feels final - your fate is sealed, this is happening. You both stop in the middle of the room, facing each other. Shoulders tense and fists clenched. The bed has been made from this morning, a strawberry gift basket sitting on the coffee table in the corner of your eye.

Your breath feels shaky.

“So…”

His throat is trembling too.

You break into a smile at how pathetic you’ve both become around each other, and once you do, Taehyung observably loosens up. “What are we being so nervous for?”

He smiles too, and takes a step towards you. “I don’t know.”

Bittersweet. It’s the best way to describe how you feel right now. Because this is it.

“Do you want to get in the hot tub? It feels like a waste if we don’t use it before we go. It’s our last night here.” The buzzing beneath your skin grows as you ask, and a spark lights up in his eyes at your idea.

“Say no more.” He presses a kiss on your forehead. It’s utterly out of the blue and fleeting, but enough to make your heart leap, both from the bewilderment and the knowledge that this will be one of your last acts of affection.

Taehyung walks past you towards the glass door, peeling off his shirt in the meantime to reveal the new tone of muscle on his back that he’s acquired in the past month. “I’m going to get some alcohol.” You maunder.

Your fingers are shaking as you rummage through the wine cooled for the drink you best see suitable. A strawberry champagne catches your eye. How fitting.

You can’t explain how jittery you feel as you completely strip off your clothes. This is the last time with Taehyung. The profound significance, the pressure, the emotions, tide after tide hitting you.

Two glasses of champagne in your hand, you inhale sharply, and let it all out.

This is it. This is the conclusive ending you asked for.

Warm water bubbling up to his chest, you find him seated in the hot tub awaiting you. The boxers discarded by the side implies that it was a last minute decision of his to go completely naked. And when he notices your nude form strutting out to the patio to join him, he sucks in. The way his eyes rake down your body then back up to your face sends flutters to you core, but also a nostalgic pang.

Eye contact does not break for a second as you climb into the hot tub and sit yourself adjacent to him. The chilly evening breeze with the heated effervescing water provides the perfect ambient temperature. Taehyung accepts the champagne you hand him, finger brushing over yours in a way that could only be intentional. He’s savouring every touch.

“To Mykonos, to the heatwave, to us and our last time.” You toast. The lump in your throat almost doesn’t permit the words to be said.

“To Mykonos, to the heatwave, to us and our last time.” He repeats after you. Clink. And down the drink goes.

A sigh, from both of you. The champagne is bittersweet, too. And you feel that surge behind your nose again, the sting behind your eyes.

“Isn’t it funny how the universe plays out?” Taehyung says, gaze falling to your lips, then your neck, then collar. He slides closer to you. “The first time we kissed was in water, the Mediterranean Sea. And now, the last time will be in water too.”

You don’t say anything for you need a moment to collect the tears. Then you place your glass on the edge of the tub and waddle through the water until you are perched on his lap. He receives you like you’re made of glass, gentle hands coming around your bare back to pull you down onto him. You brush away his dark untamed curls from his face, appreciating the thickness of his hair between your fingers because you don’t think you’ll get to touch it again. His hands trail low to the small of your back; you feel yourself brush up against his member, already hard and poised.

You want to tell him that you love him, that you will always always love him. But you know you would break if you say it.

So you just lean down to kiss him.

People like to describe their kisses like electricity, fire, a bolt of lightning striking down their spine. But for you, it really isn’t like that at all. When your lips meet, it feels like your first sip of cocoa on the first day of winter warm but not hot enough to burn, feels as though you’re interlocking fingers in a crowd of busy bodies and his thumb brushes over yours to tell you it’s okay, I’m right here and I won’t let go.

And you both pull away at the same time, a string of saliva between your mouths.

Because you both feel it, and it’s too much.

But this is the last time, you remind yourselves. Last time.

So your lips fall back onto him, fuelled by a passion you’ve never felt before. His mouth is velvet, fitting over yours so perfectly that it hurts. His hand finds your face, wet from being submerged, and he holds you more tenderly than he would an infant. Your chest is imploding from every ragged breath you take between hot kisses and you just let it.

Arousal pulling at your strings, your hand snakes down his front, dips into the water and wraps around his cock. “Ah…” Taehyung groans into your mouth. Your touch swipes across his tip. “Fuck, baby.”

Baby.

That is your undoing.

His teeth find your breasts, taking your nipple and teasing it until you’re whimpering in need. The roughness of his tongue tingles your sensitive bud so much that your eyes roll back and your vision is black and dotted with stars. The water providing you with a newfound ease, you pump him relentlessly, sitting up so you can slide his tip over your clit and along your folds. Because neither of you can wait, you’re cutting to the chase. Anything else can wait until subsequent rounds.

Every time his head brushes past your clit, a convulsion shoots up you. Your thighs quiver around him as he digs his fingers into the flesh of your ass. And when you inch by inch sink down onto his cock, the euphoric stretch in your walls numbs all other sensation.

You have missed this so much. It’s been so long.

“Fuck, you’re tight.” Taehyung’s voice is shaky, breath hitched.

“It’s ‘coz I haven’t…”

You don’t have to finish the sentence for him to understand and reply, “Me neither.”

The boost of reassurance and confidence that it grants you makes you roll your hips over his. From the absence of sex the past month, your cunt has grown unaccustomed to his size. Your entire core aches, but in the best way you could ask for. The water sloshes as you gain a steady rhythm. You have to bite down onto his ear to stop the volume at which you want to cry out because you remember that you are outdoors.

Taehyung’s face burrows into your neck, panting hard, but thrusting harder. You think back to every single one of your times together, from beginning to now. Your arms encircle tighter around him as you kiss the shell of his ear.

The initial pain in your walls is beginning to trickle away, leaving in its wake the claws of pleasure running up and down your body. Taehyung’s cock performs wonders on you that no one else can - it’s just a fact that you have to accept now. Nothing will compare.

Yet you can come to terms with it. You can gladly accept that Taehyung will be the best thing you’ll ever have.

But then you feel the dampness. At first, you mistaken it as droplets of water splattering onto you so you ignore it. And amidst you bouncing onto him, you don’t notice how Taehyung’s shoulders are shuddering.

You stop.

And feel the streaks of his tears running down your neck from where his face is pressed onto.

You can’t describe the shattering in your heart when you look down to find him crying into you. You can’t speak, can’t move, can’t even cry back at him.

It leaves you in wreckages, how he’s holding you close to him still, clinging on despite your how you’ve stopped, muffled sobs cracking out of this throat.

It takes a while for you to regain your voice, but his tears are still ceaseless. “Taehyung…”

When he looks up, you’re struck with another ammunition of distraught. The redness of his eyes, the sad distortion of his beautiful features, the endless endless tears...

“Y/N, I can’t. I really can’t.” His voice is hoarse, as if he’s been screaming silently.

“I-I’m sorry, you should’ve said. I’m so sorry I didn’t realise.” You’re stupefied from the horrendous sight of a completely broken Taehyung underneath you. You immediately climb off him.

“I-” He sniffs. “I love you so fucking much. I love you more than I love myself and I can only ever love you more each day.” You feel it again, the surge in your nose, the sting behind your eyes. You’re choked up, speechless, resenting yourself for putting him through this. You want to bury your head in the water and cry until you pass out.

“Y/N, I didn’t ever want to lose you because I know I would lose myself. But then I lost you. And I lost myself.” His sobs strangle you by the throat.

“Taehyung, I’m sorry. About everything I’ve done. It’s all my fault and I will always hate myself for hurting you so much.” A single tear rolls down your face, you can’t hold it in anymore. Then a second, third. At the unstoppable oceans pouring from his eyes, you feel destroyed.

“I don’t even care about that! I’m not hurt by Junho or Jimin, I don’t care. Having to wake up every day knowing that you’re not beside me has been the most painful thing I’ve had to deal with. You are my home, Y/N. I don’t want to live in a life that you’re not a part of. I just can’t live without you and I can’t stand it. I can’t- I can’t...”

“Then don’t.”

Confusion draws his browns into a frown. “What?” His face is still warped in pain. You can’t stand it anymore either.

“Then don’t live without me.”

Your teeth dig into your lip to stop your own bawling.

All this conflict back and forth has taken such a toll on you and what for? At the end of the day, one unwavering fact stands true and untested: you love each other no matte what. So why should you let mistakes of the past keep you apart?

“What?” He says again, though understanding starts to seep through.

“I love you, Taehyung. I can’t not love you. I’m not myself if I don’t. So let’s stop this bullshit. I can’t live without you and you can’t live without me. So then let’s not leave each other again.”

You stare at each other, on this cool February night, warm water gurgling up to your collars, the cloudless night sky flaunting it’s collection of stars. And you promise to stay by each other for as long as you live.

“Okay.” That’s all Taehyung can muster.

“I’m yours, Taehyung. My heart is completely yours forever.” His violent flow of tears subside into gentle trickles.

“Okay.” He stands up in the tub, and you mirror his action. Water weeps off your skin, inviting the cold to infiltrate.

Nothing more needs to be said. Your mouths find each other the way they always do, the crashing of your lips, scraping of your teeth. A new tear rolls off Taehyung’s face and onto your fused lips, but it’s different this time. They’re tears of insuppressable joy, knowing that the taste of your tongue is entirely his, the porcelain of your skin is entirely his. You’re shivering from the temperature of the night, but you don’t feel the cold.

His hands come behind your thighs and lift you up to his face level, wrapping your legs around your torso the way he did in Mykonos. With careful steps, he carries you back into the room, past the bed, that poor couch that was collateral damage to your mutual pining, and sets you down onto the bathroom countertop.

When he finally breaks away from the kiss and takes in your beauty under the bright light of the room, there is no less than absolute adoration in his eyes. Never anything less. “I love you and I’m yours.”

Taehyung wraps the only massive white towel he can find around your wet naked body, disregarding the cold attacking his own. You frown at him, hooking him between your legs so you can fling the towel over his shoulders as well.

“I love you and I’m yours.” You say back, blotting his body dry. It’s such a simple statement, yet the meaning it holds for the two of you is so heavy. They’re the very words that you have never found the strength to say to each other, until now.

“Say that again.” You melt under his smile, not a single trace of worry to be found in your brain.

“I love you. And I’m yours.”

You twist your neck back to follow his glare at reflection in the mirror of your huddled bodies under the towel. Cheeks pushed up from glee, heads leaning against each other, and just like that - all your heartache vanishes without a trace.

“Mine?” Taehyung pecks your brow, still smiling.

“Yours.” Legs clamping around him tighter, you turn to face him. “And how are you this hard again already?” His cock’s ability to stay erect is astounding, truly.

“Don’t you know? You could breathe and my cock would be hard.” Laughter erupts both your chests and it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.

Allowing the towel to drop around you, your hand slips between your bodies to clutch onto his length. Responsiveness ripples through his toned abdomen. “I want to suck…” You nuzzle your nose to his, your breaths amalgamating.

Taehyung sighs into your mouth. “But I want to-” Your grip tightens around him as you drag out a pump, eyes wide with feign innocence. “Okay, what the fuck, that’s not fair.”

“You’ll get to do whatever you want to me after.” You trail your mouth along his jaw.

“F-Fine.”

He lets you slide off the marble counter with the skin of his neck pinched between your teeth. When he realises that you’re marking him in clouds of purple, his head falls back and gives himself up as your canvas. You understand the appeal of hickeys now. For you two, it’s an agreement, a promise, an exchange of trust. You continue down his front, teeth grazing his nipples, lower and lower, kissing along the protrusion of his pelvic bone. Until you arrive at his cock.

“Do you remember the whole ice cube thing during the heatwave?” You run your finger up his length, over his oozing slit. The heatwave feels like an eon ago, but also like just yesterday.

Stiffening, Taehyung looks down. “Yes…”

“How about I pay you back for that one?” You take his shut eyes and sparse nod as compliance because you know he’s not capable of words right now.

You dash away to collect a glass of ice from the drink cooler, but on your way find something even better. Something you’ve always wanted to try.

Taehyung is slowly touching himself when you return, mildly surprised by the second item you brought back with you. “Whipped cream? Isn’t that from the gift basket?”

“You up for it?” A smirk stretches.

“Very up and very hard.” He lets go of his member and watches you drop to your knees.

To moisten him first, you slowly lap circles around his head, applying considerable pressure and letting the tip of your tongue tease at his sensitive opening. You look up when he moans, and takes his girth into your mouth, sliding his cock further and further down your throat until he pokes the back. Then you pull up with a pop, echoing within the walls of the bathroom.

You take two ice cubes from the glass, one placed between your lips, and the other to massage over your clit. The icy sensation strikes a numbing sensation into your core when it touches your bud of nerves. The cube in your mouth, you begin to trace slowly from the base of his shaft all the way up.

A string of profanities leaves Taehyung at the temperature, and seeds a satisfaction between your legs.

The ice is melting quickly from the heat of your mouth so you waste no time to guide it down to his scrotum resting on your palm. “Fuck.” He whines, his whole length twitching.

When this cube dissolves into nothing but a puddle of your tongue, you take another, ruthlessly educing those curses from him. His tip is the most sensitive part of him, so that’s where you focus on, smearing the edges of the cube around the curve of his head. His thighs tense in euphoric spasms.

The whipped cream comes next. With a few shakes of the canister, you hold his cock pointed towards yourself and view the spiral of white untainted cream unfold onto his head.

“Ah!” Taehyung yelps.

“You good?” You glance up to check that he still has a rein on his sanity.

“It just scared me.” You chuckle and place a kiss on his shaft.

“You should be scared.”

Eyes lock on his, you watch him watch you vulgarly smear the cream all over his cock with your lips. Its sweetness oozes into your mouth and sinks into your tongue. “Mmm.” You hum at the pleasant taste. Then you start to suck, the cream providing you with a lubrication that your spit has never been able to replicate. His cock glides into your mouth with such little resistance that you gag around him.

“Oh fuck, that feels so good.” He can’t look away from you, your hollowed out cheeks and large eyes as you bob your head deeper and deeper. Ribald wet sloppy noises squeaking from your mouth. “Uh fuck.”

Taehyung’s fingers entangle in your hair, guiding your motion in and out. The cream swirls in your mouth, the taste prompting you to suck harder until your mouth adheres like a second skin to his cock. He’s soon panting, even as you come up for air and to spray more cream on him.

“Yeah, keep going. Can I come in your mouth?” His eyes are almost screwed shut, but still open to keep watching. The rise and fall of his chest, and the bulging vein down the side of his cock - he’s close.

You keep sucking, relishing in the taste of the cream, the ease at which his tip glides along your throat, your own fluid dripping from your cunt.

“Fuc- Ah!” Gripping your hair tight, he thrusts hard into you as he cums, ribbons of his own cream mixing in your mouth. Taehyung’s dick pulses violently at the shaft. You watch his jaw fall open, brows pinch together, as the liquid dribbles down your throat.

You pull his length out of you with a great gasp and swallow all the remnants. “Shit. How was that?” Out of breath, you wipe the mess around your mouth with the dropped towel.

“Give me a second to recover from that, baby.” Arms on the countertop to support him, Taehyung lets his head droop back so far that his hair touches his elbows. You wet the towel at the sink and clean his slowly limping member. “Fuck that was…”

When his eyes open again, there is a fury that you know to be afraid of. He hauls you up onto your two feet and latch onto your lips, not caring about the filthy things they’ve just done to him.

“I need to be inside you.” He grumbles. “Give me five, ten minutes and I'll be ready again.”

“Hmm.” Arms sliding around his neck, you let him walk you onto the bed, hovering over you while his hands fondle your breasts that have become lonely. The insides of your thighs are slick with your arousal - that doesn’t go unnoticed.

Scissoring your folds open with his long digits, this thumb finds your clit, bulging and throbbing with desire. The vibrations coursing into you as he starts to rub compels you to arch back. You are really just a plaything when under his touch, as malleable as dough.

“Taehyung!” And for some reason, you calling out his name flips an animalistic switch in him.

With your neck fully exposed, he ceases the opportunity to nibble all over your unmarred skin, leaving angry blotches in return of your marks on him. This thumb is working quickly, the pressure at your clit superimposing second by second.

“Wait.” He lifts his head up abruptly, though fingers still going. “Do you want to sit on my face?”

Your heart jolts in excitement at the mere mention of it. “Didn’t even have to ask.” It has always been something you’ve wanted to try but never gotten around to.

Swapping positions, Taehyung reclines onto his back while you situate your knees on either side of his face. His hands grip onto your waist, guiding your descent onto his thrill-teeming face.

An incredible shock of pleasure fires up your spine when he takes your clit between his lips and sucks. This position grants him an unobstructed access to your pussy, no awkward angle, no cramping neck. So the assail he commences is totally, and unfortunately for your lucidity, merciless. His hands grapple onto your freely hanging breasts, rolling your nipples between fingertips.

Crying aloud from the ecstatic twisting sensation, you feel your eyes water. It’s almost too much, the mind warping accumulation of tension in your cunt. “Like that, Taehyung.”

One of his hands leaves your breast only to insert his digits into your dripping slit. Your thighs are aching, close to giving way; you don’t think you can withstand this tremendous stimulation.

His tongue doesn’t stop and neither do his fingers. Breathing through his nose heavily, he continues to coil your core into loops and loops of hypertension

You’re so close, so close.

And you’re there.

The pulsing waves of your orgasm sweep you away. You don’t even hear your own moans, just the roaring of your blood in your ears. Your whole body writhes above Taehyung, but your muscles don’t permit you to move off him while so ransacked by this high.

It last long, nearing half a minute before your senses come back to you.

And finally, you sag and topple over, trusting Taehyung to catch you and roll you onto your back.

“What the fuck.” You pant, low frequency pulsations still resonating down your legs, in awe of how he never fails to tip you over the edge. And the striking difference between the male and female orgasm is that, unlike Taehyung, you immediately want more when you’re done. “Taehyung, please, I need you to fuck me.”

His reply startles you. “No.” You open your eyes and find him regarding you with such reverence that only confuses you more.

“No?”

Cupping your face in his palm as he props himself on his elbow over you, Taehyung leans down and kisses your nose. Then your mouth. “Y/N.” Your temple. “I want to.” Your ear. “Make love to you.”

He paints a constellation of wet kisses all over you.

“How does that sound, baby?”

You immediately pull him back onto your own lips, a desperate craving as you kiss him back hard. “I love you.” You really do. It’s the one thing you’re the most certain about in this world.

“Ahhh.” Readjusting over you yet still keeping the close distance between your faces, he takes his cock in his hand and pumps. “You know you do to me when you say those words?” He kisses you again, so softly that his lips feel like rose petals. As he lines his tips along your entrance, you shut your eyes and prepare for it.

“I love you.” You repeat. And he sinks in.

It feels different, so entirely different from the previous time tonight. There is not an ounce of concern, of doubt, of hesitancy. You feel safe underneath him, secure.

His tender moans unravelling into songs of vulnerability. “I love you, too.” He whispers into your ear, and you understand what he means by how much these three words have an effect because them alone are almost enough to capsize you again.

His thrust, though lacking its usual roughness, does not lack in anything else. Every time he plummets into you, his mouth finds yours. Your hands are interlocked, pinned down onto the pillow. The surprising intimacy of that act overflowing to the brim. And you swear you could see heaven right then and there.

You feel nothing but love and devotion throughout.

He makes love to you over and over again this night, Valentine’s night. And despite your usual preferences, the sensations between your legs, in your chest, in your mind, are unrivaled.

Transcendental.

When it’s all over, when you’re nothing more than sweaty skin, damp hair, and hearts full of love for each other, you spend your time taking in each other’s details. His unblemished complexion. The beauty mark under the lashes of his right eye. The perfect shape of his cupid's bow that doesn’t seem humanly possible. Everything.

“What we had didn’t work, but we’re not going to repeat those mistakes again, I won’t hurt you again, I promise.” You whisper softly as you caress his cheek. “It’s all or nothing. And you have all of me.”

The glaze over his sincere eyes hasn’t left yet, though you don’t suppose your eyes are completely dry either.

You continue, “Seeing you break down like that today was… the hardest thing for me to witness. So much worse that our stupid pointless fights, and the nights where I would cry myself to sleep. And I can’t apologise enough for causing you that much pain.”

Taehyung’s eyes trailing down bashfully, and you almost worry that he’d cry again.. “I… I can’t believe the day finally came where I cried during sex…” You let out a round of laughter at what he chooses to dwell on.

“I love you so much that it makes me sick. I’m honestly disgusted and mortified by myself.” You snicker in his hair.

“Look, what about me? I love you so much that I cried during sex. Not even just a tear either. Full on sobs. I think I’m the bigger loser here.” The fact that he can joke about the situation reassures you that he’s over it. The mood once again lightens.

“All this just because you couldn’t keep your dick in your pants during a heatwave.”

He pulls you closer into his rumbling chest, laughing to himself as he toys with your earlobe between his teeth.

You fall asleep in each other’s arms, for the first time as each other’s lovers. And for the rest of the nights that come after.

A/N: Alexa, play ‘Fuck it I love you’ by Lana Del Rey.

Thank you everyone for the incredible love and support you’ve unfailingly shown Heatwave. As my first fic, I am of course so very attached to these characters and ending this series is such a bittersweet feeling. It’s been such a lovely journey to write this couple and although I don’t plan on writing anything for them in the next few months, I won’t close off that possibility completely.

Love you!

- Kristy

27/04/20

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