#but a knee ways birthday!!! happy birthday to us!! woohoo!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

watchmegetobsessed · 4 years ago

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ALL IS FAIR

a/n: woohoo!! finally a harry fic! lol sorry i got very into marvel these past weeks but im finally bringing you some harry content! this one was originally requested by an anon sometime and then we kept talking about it until i actually got around to write it! hopefully you’ll like it and if you do, please like and reblog!

pairing: ceo!Harry x ceo!plussize!reader

warning: sexual content

word count: 16.7k

masterlist

“Stop being such a stuck up dick, it’s your birthday, bro!”

Harry rolls his eyes at his friend who walks into his penthouse as if he owned. Niall Horan was so well-known in Harry’s building that he could have easily walked into any homes in the tower and people would still welcome him warmly. It might have a few things to do with the fact that half of the residents in the Compass Tower are women who are hopelessly in love with either Niall or Harry, hoping for a chance to drag either of them into their bed one day. They have a lot more chance to do that with the Irish bloke than with Mr. Styles. Not that Harry doesn’t find them attractive, but he is not the type to have one night stands, something his friend gives him quite a lot of shit for.

“Would you fuck off for twenty more minutes?” Harry sighs, shooting him a look as he covers the speaker of his phone, in the middle of a call.

“You have ten minutes and we are leaving. I’m not letting you work on the night of your thirtieth birthday!” Niall warns him before walking into the kitchen to roam the always full, neatly stocked fridge.

As much as Niall Horan comes off as an irresponsible cocky child, he is quite the businessman himself as well. As the Lawyer of one third of New York’s most influential people, he surely doesn’t have to worry about making a living, enjoying his luxurious apartment a few streets away from Harry’s place on the Upper East Side. It’s not as expensive and impressive as Harry’s penthouse on the top of the tower his father built in the heart of the posh neighborhood most people only know from TV shows, but he couldn’t complain.

“Another designer refused to sign with us, H. We are running out of options,” Lambert’s voice rings through the phone as Harry turns to the floor to ceiling window, staring out to the city skyline in front of him.

“We have quite a few left, right?” Harry asks clenching his jaw.

“Yeah, but I heard that Cometa is planning on announcing something big next week so I think a lot of them are waiting for that to happen.”

“Do you think it’s another collab? But they just had fucking Chanel have a line sold through them!” Harry growls, his blood boiling at even just the thought.

When it comes to fashion in the virtual world, there are two businesses that totally dominate the industry. In the men’s wear, Twisted is definitely the number one selling place. The idea started off as just a freshman school project that originally wanted to sell tech stuff, but a few years into the project Harry met Lambert who was already a rising star in the fashion industry and they joined forces, creating the most classic yet affordable and user friendly online empire: Twisted. Though Twisted mostly features men’s clothing, they’ve been trying to venture to the field of women’s fashion, but it hasn’t been as easy as they thought it to be. And the reason for that is Cometa.

Cometa was originally a website where anyone could sell their own clothes, make their online wardrobe sale. But eventually the business grew itself out and stepped up a few levels, collaborating with various designers and brands, selling exclusive lines and a highly praised seasonal variety four times a year, earning a well-deserved top spot in the online fashion industry. It’s hard to compete with what Julia Bianchi built up through sweat and blood and Harry Styles has been working on stepping up to be a major competition for Cometa in women’s fashion, with not much luck so far.

To top the cake with a delicious looking cherry, Cometa has been trying to set feet into men’s fashion as well in the recent years, bringing out several lines with some mentionable designers, but they never made it be as big as Twisted. The two businesses have been trying to outdo each other for about a decade now, with not much luck so far and Harry’s patience is running low by now.

“I don’t know what it is, but keep an eye out. I’ll call you on Monday, alright?” Lambert sighs through the line.

“Okay, thank you,” Harry nods, feeling a little defeated.

“And happy birthday, man. Go and celebrate!” he chuckles, making Harry’s lips curl up as well.

“Thanks, have a good weekend,” Harry bids his goodbye before the call ends.

Wandering into the kitchen Harry finds Niall with the thickest ham and cheese sandwich between his hands, sitting at the kitchen island.

“So where exactly are we going tonight?” he asks, grabbing himself a granola bar as he joins the Irish lad on the stool next to him.

“Oh, that’s a surprise,” he grins, mouth full as he chews mercilessly. Harry grimaces, not sure how this is the same man who can convince a judge about basically anything, wearing his designer suits, putting on an intimidating and serious act for his cases.

“I have a switch,” Niall once told him when he asked how he does it. “I just turn it off when I’m off the clock.”

“You know I hate surprises,” Harry informs him matter-of-factly, but Niall doesn’t seem to be bothered by his comment.

“You’re thirty now, no one cares what you hate.”

“Says who?” Harry huffs.

“Me,” he grins, making Harry roll his eyes.

The bass is throbbing, red tinted lights illuminating the exclusive bar in the heart of Manhattan where Niall chose to gather some of Harry’s close friends to celebrate his thirtieth birthday. Sitting in the leather couches at a restricted area at the back of the place, they are hidden enough not to draw too much attention to themselves but still feel like they are part of the party.

“Cheers to three decades of this cocky motherfucker!” Niall beams as their glasses meet in the middle, everyone laughing and wishing Harry a happy birthday before they all chug their drinks.

Harry is not necessarily the type of person to enjoy going out too often, but he admits it’s been a while since the last time he let loose. It feels nice to have the evening to himself, leaving the business behind for just a couple of hours before he returns to his busy everydays.

Though the occasion is Harry’s birthday, Niall is surely enjoying the evening a tad bit more than his friend. After Harry sees him send down three tequilas in a row he realizes it’s not gonna end well if he doesn’t get some water into his system as well. Excusing himself from the group he heads to the bar, pushing his way through the dancing bodies until he finally reaches his destination.

Given how it’s a Friday evening, the place is packed and he waits in the line patiently while the bartender is fixing up the order of a group of girls a few stools down from Harry. Leaning onto the counter Harry runs his gaze over the dancing crowd, tapping his fingers against the surface to the beat, even bopping his head a little when he feels a push from behind him.

“Oh, sorry!” A female voice calls out and as he turns around he spots the owner of it, a young woman, her curvy body wrapped in a tight mini dress that leaves very little to Harry’s imagination as his eyes run up and down her figure. He has never seen a curvy girl as confident as her, she is radiating, drawing every male’s attention to herself like she is feeding off the hungry stares and dirty thoughts birthed by her.

Her eyes meet Harry’s gaze and the sly smirk that tugs on her perfectly shaped lips gives it away that she is not that sorry to be bumping into him.

“No worries,” is all he manages to say, the urge to drop to his knees right then and there stronger than anything he has ever had to fight.

“He won’t notice you,” she tells him and his eyebrows knit together in confusion. “The bartender. If you just stand there like that… he will never come here,” she explains.

“I’m not sure I have what catches his eyes,” he jokes, making her laugh and he swears his stomach drops at the heavenly sound.

“May I?” she arches an eyebrow and Harry nods, letting her step in front of him. He stands tall above her, eyes fixed on her figure as she leans onto the counter, the marble pushing her breasts up just enough to spark the bartender’s fantasies when he glances in her way. She waves at him with a charming smile and a moment later the guy is standing in front of her, ready to please her in any way she desires.

“Three vodka sodas and…” she turns in Harry’s way, her lips slightly parted and his breath hitches in his throat. “What did you want, handsome?”

“Just, uhh—Just two water, please.”

Her eyebrows rise, but she doesn’t comment on it, just adds the two water to her order. The bartender nods and disappears to fix up her drinks. Harry takes a deep breath and sticking his hand out to her he introduces himself.

“I’m Harry, by the way.” She takes his hand, shaking it firmly.

“Y/N. Nice to meet you, Harry. Are you here alone?”

“Um, no. I’m here with a few friends,” he replies nodding towards the back of the place. “Are you here with someone?”

Please don’t say your boyfriend, please!

“A few of my girlfriends,” she smiles, brushing her hair over her shoulder, flaunting a better look at her naked neck and just one glimpse is sending a whirl of dirty thoughts into Harry’s mind. He wonders how soft her skin would feel under his lips, what her moans would sound as he sucks on it, leaving a mark on her, letting every man in the house know that he made her feel good.

“Are you guys celebrating something?” Y/N asks, a knowing smile on her lips as she most definitely saw Harry staring at her.

“Actually, yeah,” he chuckles a little nervously. “It’s my birthday.” Y/N’s eyes brighten up as she beams at him.

“Really? Happy birthday then!”

“Thank you,” he smiles shyly. “Are you guys celebrating something too?”

“Well, I…” she starts, her thoughts wandering off for a second before she continues. “I kind of got promoted,” she explains and Harry smiles down at her warmly.

“Congrats then!”

The bartender returns with the drinks and she is already about to get her card from her little clutch when Harry pulls his card out, handing it over to the guy behind the bar.

“Birthday boys shouldn’t pay for others,” she smirks, but doesn’t try to fight him that hard.

“You can pay me back later,” Harry shrugs with a suggestive smirk on his lips. He doesn’t want to part ways with her, but she is obviously expected to be back with her friends and he needs to get back to Niall as well before he absolutely loses control. Stepping closer to him, Y/N slides a hand up his chest, her palm resting at the base of his neck as she leans to his ear.

“Save me a dance, birthday boy?” she murmurs into his ear, her lips brushing against him for a split second before she steps back, grabs her drinks and winking at him one last time she disappears from the bar. Harry stands there for a few more seconds before the bartender hands him back his card and snatching the waters from the bar he heads back to his friends.

Luckily, Niall is slowing down a little, The water does him well and Harry finally doesn’t feel like he’ll have to take care of him, dragging him home once the night is over. Sitting by the table Harry is trying to focus on the conversation, but his gaze keeps wandering over to the dance floor, looking for one particular curvy figure in the sea of dancing bodies.

It takes him some time to spot her, but when he does, he is not able to tear his eyes away from her.

She is almost perfectly in the middle with her friends surrounding her, lips and shoulders swaying to the rhythm perfectly. He catches her chug down the last sips of her drink before she disregards the glass and gets back to dancing. Watching her every move intently, Harry feels his lips slightly part at the sight of this angel who is for sure a devil in the sheets. He can’t stop himself fantasizing about what it would feel like to dig his fingers into her thighs, kiss her neck, her cleavage that’s on show now, how her curves would fit into his hands perfectly. He wants to praise this woman, make her feel good and not just because he wants to be selfless and please her, but also because seeing this woman reach her high because of him would be the biggest ego boost for him and he just needs that.

“Go dance with her!” Niall wiggles his eyebrows at him when he catches Harry staring at her.

“What? No, I’m not a dancer,” he shakes his head, shifting his eyes away from the dancing goddess on the dance floor.

“Oh come on, don’t be a pussy!”

“I’m not a pussy, I just—“

“You’re a pussy. I saw her looking in your way as well, she wants your dick!”

“Jesus, Niall!” Harry whines rolling his eyes. He doesn’t like it when he gets so vulgar, but luckily no one heard their conversation. Glancing back in Y/N’s way Harry sees how men are eyeing him, probably building up the courage to go up to her and that has his blood boiling. He needs to be the one to touch her.

Chugging down the rest of his drink he snaps the glass on the table before standing from his seat, ignoring Niall’s cheering as he makes his way into the crowd.

Harry didn’t lie when he said he is not a dancer, he feels uncomfortable, awkward and uncoordinated most of the times he tries to dance, but he is pushing all of those to the back of his mind for now as his eyes are set on one person in the crowd.

When Y/N spots the man approaching her, she can’t push a pleased smile off her lips, slowing her movements down as Harry finally reaches her, leaning closer to her ear so she can hear his voice over the music.

“Here to collect that dance,” he smugly tells her, making her laugh, though the music is too loud to let him hear her. She just nods and turning around she presses herself up against him, her backside fitting his front perfectly. Harry’s hand snake around her waist, his large palm smoothly moving through the silky fabric of her dress as they start moving together.

She is intoxicating, makes Harry feel like he is some kind of horny teenager, like he hasn’t dealt with women before, but in a way, she makes all of his past flings appear to be only girls. Her confidence in her own body is easily one of her best traits, the way she handles herself, moves her body, the look in her eyes, Harry is getting drunk on just watching her and now he is able to touch her as well.

When he feels himself getting hard in his pants, he knows he should be at least a slightly bit embarrassed by himself, but as Y/N turns around in his arms and he sees the pleased smirk on her lips, the feeling vanishes in a heartbeat. She wraps her arms around his neck as she pulls him close, her lips brushing against his lips.

“Enjoying yourself, birthday boy?” she prompts before pressing a kiss to the soft skin under his ear and he can’t hold a growl back. The friction is almost unbearable, as his hands slide lower on her back, stopping on her ass, he knows he won’t be able to control himself any longer. Luckily, he is not the only one having this inner fight.

Snapping around Y/N grabs his hand and starts pulling him through the crowd towards the hallway of the bathrooms. He follows her eagerly, lucky for them, the club doesn’t have restrooms with several stalls, but single bathrooms with a lot more comfort and privacy. Just what they need right now.

They find the third bathroom empty, pushing their way inside and locking the door before Harry pushes her up against it the moment it’s just the two of them, their mouths hungrily meeting in the middle. He almost grunts against her lips, she tastes even better than he imagined and the way her tongue is the first one to come into action has got his mind blown. His hands roam up her body, running up all her curves until they reach her face and he cups it in his palms, pressing his hips against her. She moans against his mouth when his hard cock pokes against her, both of them desperate to take it further.

Tumbling further into the small bathroom, he helps her up to the counter next to the sing, her legs instantly opening for him, her tiny dress rolling up her thighs, revealing her clothed sex. Harry eagerly kisses his way down her neck and chest, her skin feeling so smooth under his lips. His fingers hook under the thin straps of her dress, tugging them down so he can push the dress past her full breasts and thank God she is not wearing a bra underneath!

“Fuck me, you are so hot!” he breathes out, making her chuckle at his reaction.

“That’s what I’m trying to do,” she cockily answers before Harry’s mouth attaches to her nipple, his hand working on her other breasts before he switches.

He quickly gets down on his knees, pushing her underwear to the side before his lips and tongue meet her sensitive clit.

“Oh shit!” she moans, a hand coming to tangle in his hair while she tries to hold herself steady with leaning on the other one behind her. There’s no time for teasing now and they both know that.

She is so lost in the experience, Harry is licking and sucking just the right spots and she tries to close her legs, locking his head between her thighs. His arms come to curl around them, ring clad fingers digging into her flesh and the situation might be a little suffocating for him, but he doesn’t mind it a bit. In fact, if he died this way, he would die a happy man.

She doesn’t let him finish what he started, pulling him up, his lips still glistening from her own juices as she kisses him messily, wiggling herself out of her underwear while he undoes his pants as well.

“Shit, do you have a condom?” he breathes out when his palm wraps around his throbbing cock. She nods, reaching for her clutch she dropped to the counter and digging into it she grabs the package, smacking it against his chest playfully. “Were you planning to do this tonight?” he grins cockily as he rips the package open and starts rolling it down his hard length.

“No, I’m just smart, unlike you,” she retorts, her sass dripping from her tone and it just riles him up even more.

Grabbing her thighs he yanks her to the edge of the counter, a gasp leaving her plump lips as she tries to find her balance quickly.

“Don’t be a brat,” he growl against her lips before kissing her, while he lines himself up with her, the head already pushing in.

“Then fuck me, birthday boy,” she challenges him again and it’s the last straw.

Harry slams into her, both of them moaning at the sensation before he starts thrusting in a fast pace, needing all the friction he can make to get them to finish as soon as possible. Y/N’s head falls back as she holds onto the back of his neck, her other hand on the counter behind her again and Harry glances down, watching her breasts bounce every time he rails into her, slamming his whole length into her every time their hips meet.

She reaches for one of his hands that’s holding her thigh and she boldly brings it to her core, tapping his fingers to her clit, letting him know that she wants some extra effort. Harry doesn’t say it, but he is blown how she didn’t just do it herself, she made him do it. It’s got to be one of the hottest things he has ever seen.

“Fuck, go harder!” she gasps, wrapping her legs around his waist as he picks the pace up, feeling his orgasm building rapidly with each thrust.

They both are a whimpering, moaning mess, the bass of the music is thumping outside and for a moment, Harry feels like he is finally living his life to the fullest.

“I’m gonna cum!” she breathes out, his name falling from her lips moaning after that and when she pulls him down to kiss him, biting into his bottom lip and tugging it, he loses himself.

He feels himself jerking inside her, still sliding in and out of her as he grunts, releasing himself into the condom. He flicks his fingers on her clit at the same time, creating just enough friction to push her over the edge as well. He is coming off his own high when her walls tighten around his cock, dragging his orgasm out even longer as she basically screams, gasping for air, riding her orgasm out to the last bit.

Leaning down he kisses her again though they are still panting, this time making it a lot less rushed than the time their lips met for the first time. Her legs fall from around his waist and he pulls out, both of them cleaning themselves up in the aftermath of their little session.

“I know this was quite rushed and all that, but can I have your number?” he asks, even feeling a little nervous. She puts her underwear back on, smoothing her dress down as she smiles up at him, cupping his face in her palm.

“I’m afraid we’ll have to skip on that,” she tells him simply, shocking him for sure.

“D-Do you have a boyfriend or something?”

“No,” she shakes her head and now Harry is confused.

“You didn’t enjoy it?” he then asks, trying his best to figure out the reason behind the rejection.

“I did. But it was a one time thing. If it’s supposed to turn into more…” she sighs, grabbing her clutch from the counter. “Then I’ll leave it to fate if we ever meet again,” she shrugs before turning around she just unlocks the door and walks out, leaving Harry stand there in complete and utter shock.

This is definitely a first for him, a woman who doesn’t want to see him again. He is not that egoistic to think that everyone is in love with him, but he never had an encounter similar to this. Not after the most amazing sex ever.

Harry fixes himself up, still not believing she walked out that easily, but there’s not much he can do now. Walking back to his table, he acts like nothing happened and when his eyes scan over the crowd again, he can’t see her anymore.

Harry lets out a tired sigh when Zayn, head of the graphic design department walks into his office with a familiar brown paper bag with the logo of Harry’s favorite Chinese restaurant.

“Has it started already?” Zayn asks, though glancing at the big screen on the wall he can see the stream is still waiting to be started.

“No, I’ve been staring at it for like twenty minutes,” Harry grumbles, pushing himself away from his desk to join Zayn on the couch in front of the screen as he unpacks the food. “What do you think it’s going to be?”

Today is the day of Cometa’s big press conference and no one knows what they are about to announce. It’s been keeping Harry on the edge for the past few days, because whatever it is, it has got to be major. Julia Bianchi is not the type of person to hold press conferences, she is a private person who has managed to keep most of her life behind closed doors. That’s something Harry admires in the woman even though they are competitors in the business. He can relate to wanting to keep her life just for herself, he has been doing the same thing. No public appearances, no lengthy interviews, no photoshoots. He likes to let his work talk for himself and it’s proved to be a successful move so far.

“I don’t know, but I hope they don’t suddenly announce a full graphic makeover right before our update,” Zayn chuckles. He has been working on an entirely new appearance for the website these past weeks and it’s supposed to go live sometime later in the month. A change for Cometa would totally throw their attempt off, making them look like they are just copying Julia’s move.

They eat and wait for the stream to start when the screen finally comes alive. There’s an empty stage shown with just two mic stands in the middle and nothing really happens for a few minutes before clapping is heard from behind the camera and Julia finally walks on the stage.

The woman is a real diva. Wearing a matching pant suit with bold floral print all over it, her short hair is neatly straightened into a bob cut, her red lips smiling lightly as she waves around in the room. Julia has been in the fashion industry for almost three decades now and she surely made a name for herself, sitting front row in every fashion show she attends, her words on any new trend being basically the standard.

Stepping to one of the mics, she clears her throat as the clapping dies down and her calm, gentle voice rings through the speakers.

“Welcome, everyone, thank you for coming, as you might already know I’m Julia Bianchi, head of Cometa, the world’s best online women’s fashion house.”

Harry leans back in his seat, eyes fixed on the woman on the screen as he is patiently waiting to hear what she’s got for the people this time.

“I’ve spent twenty-seven wonderful years in the business, building my own one for the past two decades. I fell in love with fashion as a child and moved to Milan to study designing from the bests. Though designing has always and will always hold a special place in my heart, I saw an opportunity in the early years for a brand that would hold together every other brand in the industry, bringing it to everyone’s home thanks to the rapidly developing technology. Cometa has always been my little baby and I’m proud of everything I achieved as head of such a great company.”

Harry realizes what it’s about before Julia could even say the words herself. The phrasing, the nostalgic tone, it’s all adding up to the obvious: Julia is about to announce her retirement.

“I gave the best years of my life for this company and I regret nothing, but recently I’ve realized that it is time for me to slow down for a little bit and enjoy a life that’s not filled with work anymore, and spend more time with my beloved husband, Fabio and my family who supported me on my long way here. Therefore, I am now announcing it with an aching heart and a lot of excitement as well that I am stepping down from my role as CEO of Cometa. I might be leaving now, but my business will not. So it is a pleasure to introduce you the person who will carry my legacy on, my amazing niece, the absolutely most perfect woman to carry on the work I started, Y/N Y/L/N.”

The moment another woman comes into the picture Harry almost chokes on his own saliva, seeing the same curves he had his fingers dug into last Friday. Y/N smiles and waves around as she steps to the other mic next to her aunt, exchanging a short look with her before turning towards the people in the room and the camera that’s streaming the event.

“Dude, you alright?” Zayn asks, patting Harry’s back a few times as he is still struggling to breathe normally.

He refuses to accept that the woman he fucked in a bathroom on his birthday, the one that made him moan like never before, is the same woman who is going to take over his biggest competitor.

“This has got to be a joke,” he breathes out with teary eyes from all the coughing.

“It is an honor to be here,” Y/N starts speaking as the clapping dies down once again and the two men are staring at the screen. “Just like to be the one to step into the perfectly stylish shoes of my aunt. I hope to live up to not just her and everyone else’s expectations, but also to mine as well. I grew up watching my aunt build up this empire with basically dust so to be the person to take her place is a dream come true. I promise to keep the quality the same and work on improving Cometa to its possible best while being in charge.”

As she finishes talking, questions are thrown in her way, but Harry doesn’t pay attention any longer. Standing up he walks to the window, staring out to the city as he chews on his bottom lip anxiously.

“What the fuck is your problem, H? It wasn’t as bad as we expected, right?” Zayn questions.

“It’s fucking worse!” he snaps turning around. “I can’t believe this is happening to me.”

“Would you just tell me what’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong is that… I told you about what… happened on my birthday.”

“The bathroom fuck, oh yeah,” Zayn chuckles with a playful shine in his eyes.

“Well, that woman… the woman I fucked was her.” Zayn stays silent for a moment before he turns towards the screen, eyeing the woman on the stage as she is still answering questions, standing confidently in her tight, black dress and red heels.

“You fucked Julia Bianchi’s niece? And she is now taking over Cometa?” he raises his eyebrows at Harry who just nods, pressing his lips together into a thin line. “And she is also the one who didn’t give you her number?”

“Don’t… bring that up. But yes, it’s her.”

Zayn starts laughing, clearly finding Harry’s misery entertaining, but Harry doesn’t feel like taking it that easy. He wonders if she knew who he was, if she did it on purpose or it was fate’s horrible joke on both of them.

“Ah man, that charity event on Saturday will be one hell of a show then!” Zayn points it out and Harry’s face falls. He totally forgot about the charity event he was invited to, one that would have the biggest names in the fashion industry together in a ball room to raise money for a chosen good cause. It happens every year and it’s a major event, the perfect place to network and also to see your biggest enemies. That means that Harry will see Y/N again in a few short days and if he is being honest… he is not ready to face her, not after the information he learned today. Sighing he steps to the minibar he insisted on having in his office and though he never drinks during the day, he now thinks that now might be an exception. He pours himself some whiskey and before he chugs it down at one go, he lets out a long, tired sigh.

“That’s just my luck…”

Leslie helps you with the zipper of your dress, the silky, red fabric hugging your body like a second skin. She smoothes the wrinkles out while you fix the straps, staring back at yourself in the mirror with judgment. You need to look perfect, this is going to be your first time appearing at an event as CEO of Cometa, your big entrance into the industry, you can’t let anything go wrong.

“You look gorgeous, babe,” Leslie smiles at you, bringing your hair behind your shoulders as her eyes meet yours in the mirror. Leslie might be your assistant, but she is a lot more than that. You’ve been friends for almost a decade and when she lost her job a few years ago you didn’t hesitate to offer her a spot next to you. You wouldn’t be here without her, she doesn’t try to use her privilege of being your friend to not do the work, she is always on top of her game and you’ll always be grateful for her to not make it awkward at all.

“I think you need some diamonds though,” she winks at you, stepping to the table where all kinds of jewelry is sprawled out. She reaches for a simple one, not too much, quite elegant and you nod as she holds it up for you. Walking behind you she brings it around your neck, the diamond brilliantly sitting on your chest now, giving that little extra shine to your outfit.

“You’ll make every man fall in love with you,” she smiles at you and breathing out you nod, hoping to believe that everything will go perfectly.

While you make a few last minute calls she gets dressed as well before the car arrives for the two of you. She is wearing a less daring but still beautiful black dress, her curly hair pinned up into a loose bun at the nape of her neck, her heavily freckled face bright from her happy smile as the two of you make your way to the event.

“I know it’s ridiculous, but I tried to memorize the faces and names from the guest list,” she grins at you, earning an eyeroll.

“Les, I told you, this is not The Devil Wears Prada,” you chuckle softly. She is obsessed with that movie and hasn’t shut up about feeling like she is literally living in it since your aunt has shared her plans with you about your future position last year.

“I know, but it might be impressive if you already knew everyone!”

You have to give that to her, it would earn you a few good points if you knew the names already, you’re just still nervous about the whole thing. So many things could go wrong and you want it to be perfect.

At first you feel intimidated by all the influential people around you. Everyone here is one of the bests in their own field and you feel like an impostor, but then you remind yourself that you earned your spot. Your aunt wouldn’t have given you the company if she didn’t trust you entirely with it. You worth no less than anyone else in this ball room and that reminds you that… you’re that bitch.

Leslie’s knowledge of names actually comes handy. You love seeing people get shocked when they try to introduce themselves to you, but you already greet them saying their names. It earns you some appreciative looks as you make your way around the room. Everything is going smooth, right until you spot one particular man in the crowd.

You’re in a little circle with a few designers when your gaze falls on Harry who is standing across the room, talking to two men. The champagne almost slips from your hand when you realize it’s him.

“Leslie,” you grab her wrist catching her attention. “Les, who’s the man in the blue Gucci suit?” you ask in a whisper and she follows your gaze, finding the man in talk.

“Oh, that’s Harry Styles, head of Twisted.”

“Fuck,” you mumble under your breath as you quickly excuse yourself from the conversation and head out to the balcony to get some fresh air before you faint right on the spot.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Leslie follows you.

“I messed up,” you squeak as you step outside, the chilly evening air hitting your uncovered skin immediately. “I messed up big time!”

“What? Why? What happened?”

Stepping to the edge, you wrap your hands around the railing, staring out into the void for a moment. Leslie Stands beside you, quite puzzled about your sudden panic.

“Remember the guy I told you about from Friday night?” you ask, keeping your voice down even though there’s no one really around. Leslie nods. “Well… he was the guy.”

Leslie glances back inside and then at you before her eyes widen and lips part in shock.

“You fucked Harry Styles at a club’s bathroom?!” she whisper-yells at you and you feel like a teenager who is getting scolded.

“I didn’t know who he was! And I genuinely think he didn’t know me either, how could he?! But now he is here and… Oh God, this is so bad,” you whine, your head dropping backwards as you let out a frustrated growl.

“Okay, don’t panic. Maybe… maybe he doesn’t remember you.”

“You can’t make me believe he doesn’t remember me after fucking me on a counter,” you tell her giving her a look.

“Alright, alright. Then… you just have to suck it up. It’s not like you can unfuck him,” she shrugs and though you know she is right, you just wish you could leave right now.

You never planned on seeing him again. Your bullshit speech about letting fate decide it was just an excuse to not give him your number. You didn’t want to because you thought he is not the kind of man that would be good for you. From his look you thought that he was either a fuckboy, not willing to commit to anything serious, or the kind of man that seems all nice and respectful at first but then turns out to be a total asshole and you’ve had enough of those in your twenty-eight years.

Soon enough you head back as the auction is about to start. Luckily, your seat is far away from Harry and it seems like he hasn’t noticed you yet. Though you wish to keep it that way, you can feel it coming already.

The auction goes by fast, you buy a new painting that will look amazing in your living room and almost twice as much money is raised through the evening that was the goal. You leave Leslie behind at the table as you go to the bar to get yourself another drink, probably your last one of the evening if you don’t want to end up making a fool out of yourself.

Patiently waiting at the bar you’re already thinking about watching Grey’s Anatomy when you get back and out of this tight dress. You look hot, but it’s not the comfiest look, if you’re being honest. There’s only one more person in front of you when you feel a little tap on your shoulder and turning around your stomach drops when you see the man you’ve been trying to avoid all evening.

“Fancy seeing you here, Y/N,” he nods shortly, his expression is quite blank, but he is definitely not shocked to see you. You tighten your jaw before looking away from him, squinting your eyes a bit.

“You don’t seem surprised,” you point out.

“I was kind of expecting to see you here tonight.”

“So you knew who I was all along?” you snap at him, but he shakes his head.

“Not until the stream this week. I was pretty shocked when you walked on stage.”

Nodding shortly you brush your hair over your shoulder and you catch Harry glimpsing down your body, but decide not to comment on it.

“Did you know who I was?” he then asks, digging his hands into his pockets.

“No, I wouldn’t sleep with my biggest competitor willingly.”

“Just from the abrupt ending I had a feeling that you might have known me.”

“Just because a woman doesn’t throws herself into your arms after a fuck, doesn’t mean she had ulterior motives,” you scoff. “Get off your high horse,” you add before turning back towards the bar so you can order your drink. Unfortunately, Harry doesn’t want the conversation to end just yet. His hand is laid flat on the counter in front of you as he stands on your right, a little too close to your liking. You can smell the expensive cologne on him, the same that hit your nose on Friday as well and suddenly your body is betraying you.

However crazy the situation is, you can’t deny that he gave you one of the best times last Friday. Men you dealt with were more concerned about their own pleasure and most of them didn’t even get you to finish. But Harry made it happen so fast and didn’t even bitch about it when you made him rub your clit. He just obeyed like a grownup man who is willingly take care of his partner. That almost made you change your mind about leaving, but once you came down from cloud nine, you returned to your original plan.

But not as he is standing in front of you and you can smell him, your senses trick you into thinking that you’re in that bathroom again, almost aching for him to touch you the way he did then. He leans closer to your ear as he speaks up again.

“Leave the drink, dance with me,” he tells you as the bartender places your drink in front of you. You debate what to do before grabbing the drink and chugging it down in one go. You’ll need the alcohol if you are about to dance with your enemy.

Harry takes you to the dance floor in the middle of the ball room, one of his hands finds the small of your back while the other takes your hand as the two of you start swaying to the gentle music played by the band.

“Your aunt set my company back in women’s fashion every time I tried to take a step forward. Are you going to do the same?”

“She didn’t do anything to set you back but to build her own company. Not everything is about you.”

“You sound a little naïve, Love. It’s pretty clear you are new in the business.” This statement riles you up big time. How dare he degrade you like that? He knows nothing about you, yet he assumes things that are not at all real.

Smirking to yourself you lean back enough so your gazes can meet. Your hand slides up from his shoulders to the base of his neck so your fingers can gently brush against his skin and you notice the shudder than runs down his spine. He is not the only one having flashbacks from your last encounter.

“Wanna know what I know about business?” you purr, his eyes glued to your red lips as you speak. “I know that… Twisted was one of the last sites to participate in personalized ads on online platforms, failing to reach it’s targeted audience as fast as literally everyone else. I know that your company and my company use the same security system in our server rooms yet I can assure you that it cost me twenty percent less because we waited a month before installing it and got a huge last minute discount because the security company was trying to boost their numbers for their end of year closing. And I also happen to know that you are working on a new design for your website that could easily be outshone if I just did the same before you could do it.”

Harry’s lips part, probably mostly at the last information. He has no idea how you know these stuff, but you have a wide circle of connections in the city, you have an insider at every big companies in the industry without them even knowing. You’ve given countless tips to your aunt through the years, that’s how she managed to stay on top of her games.

Leaning closer your lips almost brush against him and you see how he weakens, he is expecting you to kiss him and he wants it. But you just smile at him, your eyes snapping down to his lips before up to his eyes.

“I will not do the same as my aunt, Harry,” you softly speak, your fingers grazing the back of his neck. “I will do way worse things.”

And with that, you slip out of his arms and walk back to your table, leaving him standing there alone at a complete loss of words.

“What the fuck had gotten into you?” Niall grimaces upon hearing everything he told you on the evening of the charity event. And quite frankly, Harry has no answer to that. He has absolutely no idea what had gotten into him to act like such a dick when you didn’t do anything against him.

The situation just messed with his head, seeing you in that breathtaking dress, mingling with everyone, smiling and laughing, oh how he wished you were laughing on his jokes! But then you seemed so tensed when he came up to you and something just switched in him. He wanted to take dominance, to somehow get out of it on top, but he miserably failed. When you brought up their plans to change the design he completely froze.

“No idea, okay? I just…lost it,” he growls, sinking into the couch. When Niall found out that Harry met the woman from the club again he insisted on coming over with some wine to talk it out, but he was not expecting this kind of story at all.

“Dude, you just put yourself on her radar big time, maybe she wouldn’t have even bothered to compete with you like her aunt did, but you surely changed her mind now.”

“I know, Niall!” Harry growls, not in the mood to be scolded like a little child. “Do you think she’ll change their design before we do?” he peeks at his friend, but Niall just shrugs.

“No idea, but I would try to speed it up before she actually does it.”

Harry made you into a ticking bomb and you successfully got under his skin about the whole design project so first thing the next morning he went to Zayn to discuss a possible earlier debut for the new designs. Though it would be a close stretch, they agreed that it would go live by the end of the week and that got Harry somehow a little relieved, but in the middle of that he failed to put the right amount of effort into finding designers for their female lines.

When he meets up with Lambert a few days later he is not there to deliver great news. Apparently, three out of the four designers they were negotiating with recently pulled out of their deal and signed a contract with Cometa.

“We have one last designer on the list, but then… we are out of the bigger names,” Lambert sighs as Harry chews on his bottom lip anxiously. He feels like he has fallen into a hole a while ago and instead of climbing out he is just digging it deeper underneath him.

“Okay, do we have an appointment with them?” Harry asks.

“Yeah, I’m meeting her this afternoon.”

“I’m going with you,” he nods before standing from his chair and opening the door he calls out for his assistant. “Rebecca, please clear my schedule for this afternoon, I’ll be out of the office.”

Rebecca nods behind her desk, already starting to make calls about Harry’s meetings and appointments.

It’s obvious he is anxious about the meeting, because if it falls through they are forced to look for less known designers and that won’t bring the change for the company they’ve been seeking for a long time. Arriving to the showroom where the designer is working, Harry is setting his thoughts straight, determined to convince her to sign a contract with them. The two men are let into the building by the nice assistant working at the front desk and she shows the way to the showroom where Kennedy, the designer is waiting for them.

Harry is confident, he trusts his skills to make this happen, but when they walk inside he instantly freezes upon seeing an all too familiar figure standing with Kennedy

A maroon colored pantsuit is hugging your curves, a Hermés handbag hanging from your arm, your hair falling in loose curls. As if you could sense his presence, you peek over your shoulder, a devilish smirk on your lips when you see the shocked expression on Harry’s face.

“What a great surprise!” you beam, selling how happy you are to see him and in a way, you are. You wanted to see his face drop when he realizes you snatched yet another designer from him.

“Oh, Mr. Styles!” Kennedy smiles nicely at him and he finally snaps out of his trance, shaking hands with her and then turning to you, doing the same but in a lot colder manner.

“Y/N, nice to see you again,” he fakes a smile as your hand falls from his palm.

“I could say the same. But I’m heading out now. Great talk, Kennedy. I’ll be waiting for your call,” you wink at the young designer who seems to be thrilled by your words as she walks you to the exit.

“Fucking hell,” Harry mumbles under his breath and Lambert shoots him a look before Kennedy returns.

The three of them take a seat on the couches in the corner of the room and Harry is quick to get down to business, trying his best to make his offer appear more appealing than anything you told her right before their arrival. Kennedy listens intently, even takes notes and then she shows him some examples of what she was thinking about for her next line and Harry is beyond thrilled.

Unfortunately, soon comes the painful part.

“Harry, I’m gonna be honest with you,” Kennedy starts and Harry already knows what she is about to say. “Your offer is very tempting and it would be an honor to design a line for Twisted, but in my situation it would be more beneficial if I collaborated with Cometa. It is nothing against your company, it’s more about my personal path and growth.”

Harry can feel his stomach dropping and he clenches his jaw as he listens to Kennedy’s worth. He understands, of course he understands, she has the right to selfishly look at her own benefits upon signing with a new company, but he wished she would take the risk and chose his company instead of yours.

“I’m keeping the offer open for you still,” he forces a smile on his face. “If you change your mind, Twisted would be more than happy to work with you.”

Kennedy walks the two men out and the fake smile quickly vanishes from Harry’s face upon stepping out of the building.

“What are we going to do now?” Lambert asks, clearly worried about how they’re gonna move forward with their last chance falling.

“If Y/N wants a war, that’s what she’ll get,” Harry growls, revenge burning in the greens of his eyes.

It’s a quiet Friday afternoon, only hours left from the day before you are headed home finally. You’re sitting in your office with Leslie, going over next week’s schedule to make sure everything is set and clear.

It’s been almost an entire month since you stepped into your aunt’s shoes as head of the company and though the start was a little rough, especially with finding out who Harry was, but you feel like you have everything under your control by now. After all, you didn’t learn business for years from the bests for nothing, right?

Harry’s comment on you knowing nothing about the industry made you bitter, because he knows nothing about you and the struggle you went through your life to get to this point. It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbow, being Julia’s niece might have been a hugely influencing aspect of you taking over, but you worked your ass off to be the best leader you can and not just ruin everything she built up through her whole life.

Though you didn’t always want to be the one following her, but you like to think that things worked out to your favor and you are where you should be.

“Alright, everything is looking fine,” Leslie smiles at you over her laptop. “I’ll send you the notes from today’s meeting.”

“Thank you. Can you call in with the delivery company about next month’s transactions?” you ask her and she nods, already adding it to her list of tasks for the rest of the day. “Alright. I’ll do the rest of the signings and then we can head out,” you smile at her.

Leslie is grabbing her things from the table when there’s a soft knock on the door. You give your permission and one of the tech support guys walk in with a worried look on his face.

“Miss Y/L/N? I’m afraid we have a problem,” he clears his throat and you can already feel your anxiety crawl up on your spine.

“What is it?” you ask firmly. The guy steps farther inside, fumbling with his fingers as he presents the issue.

“There’s been an attempt to break our software’s security system where we keep our data about the sellings. A-And I’m afraid it wasn’t just an attempt, they succeeded.”

You take a deep breath, glancing over at Leslie for a moment before you follow the man to the tech department to investigate the issue further. You don’t know shit about these stuff, but from what he said you know the trouble is huge and if you don’t solve it as soon as possible, valuable data could leak out to the public. They try to explain you what they are working on as of right now and that there’s not much you can actually help with.

“Make sure to put your extra hours on your attendance sheets and let me know when you are able to restore the system,” you tell them and you earn quite a few thank yous on your way out for actually paying the overtime. Then you turn to the guy that first came to your office. “Do you have any information about who it could have been?”

“We weren’t able to track them back, but whoever it was, they’re surely professionals and they might know the system from the inside.”

“What do you mean from the inside? Someone did it from the company?” you ask, eyebrows knitting together as you fold your arms on your chest.

“No,” he shakes his head. “We would have been able to track that back. I mean that they know the system, maybe they worked somewhere where the same one was used and they could see into it.”

It takes you a few moments before you realize what this really is and it has your blood boiling right away. Nodding shortly you exhale sharply through your nose.

“Thank you, please call me when it’s up and running again, I’ll take care of the rest,” you tell him before turning around you walk away.

When Leslie sees you approaching your office with a head practically turning red she is quick to jump to her feet, following you into the office.

“What’s happening?”

“Harry Styles, that’s what happening,” you snap as you grab your phone, purse and coat before heading out, not wasting another minute.

“What? Where are you going now?”

“To the devil himself,” you growl back and enter the elevator, leaving her alone with her questions.

Sitting in your car on your way to the headquarters of Twisted, you imagine every scenario you want to make happen when you arrive, most of them including hitting the man across his ridiculously handsome yet annoying face. He crossed a line with breaking into your system and stealing valuable data. Though you’re sure he wouldn’t dare to sell or publish it, because he would be in a big legal trouble if he did, he still had a glimpse into your numbers and that’s already an advantage. He is playing dirty and you’re not having any of it.

Arriving you burst through the doors and demand to see him. Though the woman behind the front desk tells you that you can’t see him without an appointment, you still get her to make a call up and naturally, Harry allows you to see him. The fucker might already have been waiting for you to show up. As you stand in the all glass elevator, on your way up to meet him you take a few deep breaths to keep your cool and not snap like a maniac, however it all vanishes when you see him waiting for you with that shit-eating grin on his face when you step out of the elevator.

“You’re lucky I didn’t go straight to the police with your little stunt, you fucker!” you snap, not able to hold back your swearing any longer.

“Do you have any evidence?” he tilts his head to the side and you don’t miss how his gaze runs down your body as you march towards him. You’d find it flattering in another situation, but right now you just want to punch him in the face.

“I’ll show some evidence down your throat, Styles, if you don’t stop messing with my security system,” you growl back, standing so close to him now that you see every tiny freckle and blemish on his face and the way how he clenches his jaw, holding his gaze on yours.

Without a word or invitation, you walk into the room that you suppose is his office and he follows with a soft chuckle.

“Did you hire a hacker just to mess with me?” you throw the question at him as he closes the door so his employees don’t hear everything.

“What if I did?” he shrugs, stepping to the tray on his desk that already has a glass of whiskey on it. He grabs the glass and simply lifts it to his lips, taking a tiny sip from it. “Oh, excuse my manners. Would you like a drink?”

“I’m driving,” you answer shortly. “You crossed a line, Harry,” you warn him.

“What line?” he chuckles, rather entertained by your rage. “After what you pulled with Kennedy, I think I went easy on you.”

“I didn’t pull anything, I just gave her a better offer! It’s not my fault she has better chances with my company!” you snap back, feeling your heartbeat fastening from the anger that’s boiling in your veins.

“You knew I wanted her to design for me, why couldn’t you just let one person out of your endless list? You already have everyone else, she was my last fucking chance!” Harry barks back, clearly having some built up tension in him as well.

“If you didn’t act like an arrogant asshole at the charity gala, I would have happily let you work with her, but then you felt the need to fucking degrade me! That’s why I didn’t let you get away with it!”

Harry opens his mouth to answer, but he quickly closes his mouth, probably knowing well you’re right. He did act shitty towards you that evening and he has no excuse for his behavior. You walk closer until there are just a few feet between the two of you, your eyes glued to his burning green gaze that’s staring back at you, but before you could speak up, he cuts you off.

“Well, you know. All is fair in… war and business,” he shrugs and you honestly barely can stop yourself from laughing at how stupid that just sounded. You can’t miss the twitch in the corner of his mouth as well and you can’t believe how easily he made you break out of your rage.

“Don’t try to make money out of writing slogans,” you huff shaking your head and now he is grinning widely. “Do you have the data?”

“I don’t,” he answers and you narrow your eyes at him.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not,” he chuckles. “I had it, but I already deleted it. I know it wasn’t ethical so as soon as it was handed to me I deleted it. I didn’t even look into it. I just wanted to scare you.”

“And how do I know your hacker doesn’t have it either?”

“Because he signed a contract that would cost him millions to break and I don’t think a junior in college who is still living in a dorm can afford that,” he points out and now you are somewhat convinced. You stare back at him for a few more seconds before nodding.

“Stay out of my way and I’ll stay out of yours, how does that sound?” you offer generously.

“Where’s the fun in that?” he questions with a smug smirk that makes your arch an eyebrow at him. “What are you doing tomorrow evening?” he then asks and you can’t mask your surprise in front of him.

“That does not concern you, Styles,” you scoff, though it boosts your ego that even through all the hate you’ve been targeting at each other, he still wants you the same way he did at the club that evening. You can’t deny, this rivalry has sparked a few thoughts in you as well, but you are not going to fall into the same mistake you made that evening. You pay him another smirk before turning around and heading towards the door. “Stay out of my way, Styles!” you call back without looking at him, but you just know he is grinning at you, a growing sexual tension thickening the atmosphere in the room.

“Or what?” he smugly questions and you stop at the door, glancing back at him over your shoulder.

“Or… You said it yourself. All is fair in war and business,” you smirk before walking out of the office.

Following your visit to Harry’s office things take a… playful turn in your rivalry. The attempts and competing don’t stop, both of you are on each other’s radar, ruining and messing with each other’s projects and works whenever and wherever it’s possible, but it’s not as hateful as it was at the beginning. If something, it even helps you to always be on your toes and watch out for possible threats, not just from Harry but from everyone else.

Neither of you succeeds in evolving in each other’s field, Cometa keeps thriving in women’s fashion with a quite small variety offered for the gentlemen while Twisted fails to grow out of men’s fashion and venture to the ladies, but somehow it’s not as frustrating as it used to be before.

Harry keeps up his flirty acts and tries to ask you out every time your paths cross each other, but you relentlessly turn him down every time, only fueling him to keep chasing after you more the next time. It’s a thrilling and flattering little game, knowing that even with all the rivalry between the two of you, being the biggest competitors in the business… he still wants you.

New York fashion week rolls around and it’s by far one of your favorite times in the year. You managed to snatch an exclusive deal with YSL to release a special line just for the fashion week and it sold out in the first two hours, now waiting to be restocked in a few days. Cometa is thriving and your aunt has expressed her pride towards the work you’ve been doing at the company, so things are heading the right direction.

You knew Harry would be attending the same shows as you, but it’s fate or just luck that you are seated next to each other at one of the shows, giving you the chance to talk without any of you attempting to corrupt the other this time.

Harry is already sitting in his seat when you arrive wearing a custom made Gucci dress, something that immediately catches his eyes since he is a huge fan of the brand himself.

“Your fashion sense never disappoints, Y/N,” he beams up at you as you take the seat next to him.

“Hope that’s not surprising, Styles,” You smirk at him, taking a glance at his own Gucci outfit, the checkered pants fitting him perfectly while the pussy bow adds some spice to the whole outfit, you have to admit. He looks good, he always does.

“Any plans after the show?” he asks right before the lights go out and the show starts. You leave him without an answer, just let out a soft chuckle as you glue your eyes to the first model who walks the runway.

Once the show is over you head out with Harry by your side, having an actually entertaining discussion about the designs you just saw. He might not be an expert in fashion, but he has developed a good sense through his years.

As you make your way out of the venue you are stopped by an interviewer and Harry remains on your side as the woman asks you a few questions about the show.

“I’ve always wondered, does it bother you that you couldn’t be on the runway yourself? You’ve been sitting front row the past years, but you once had aspirations of being a model yourself, is that right?”

The question makes you tense up and you can feel Harry’s puzzled look on you from the side.

“It’s not like it was my fault for not making it up there,” you sass back, forcing a smile to your face.

“Well, that’s not entirely true,” the woman chuckles and it has your blood boiling, because you know the real meaning behind her words.

It’s your fault you didn’t become a model because you were never thin enough to be one. It was your fault and not the industry’s to hold impossible standards to women who wanted to succeed as a model.

The smile falters from your face and you take a long, judgmental look at the woman in front of you. Because if she is brave enough to talk like that to you, you’re not gonna shy away from bringing her spirits down either.

“Judging from your appearance and attitude you wouldn’t make it either,” you spitefully reply and her smile quickly fades, clearly shocked at your answer. You open your mouth again, ready to continue, but then you feel a hand on the small of your back and you realize Harry is still standing next to you.

“Come on, we have somewhere to be, right?” he smiles kindly as you just simply nod and walk away from the woman before she could offend you again.

Harry senses your tension as the two of you leave the venue but doesn’t try to talk to you and that’s a wise choice from him. As you step out of the building you realize that if you went home now you’d probably get drunk on your own and let that comment get to you more than you should. So instead of doing that you turn to Harry.

“So, what are our plans?” you ask and you don’t miss the small smile on his lips as he stares back at you.

Not in the mood to stay around people at a bar you accept Harry’s invitation to his place, since it’s also close. The contrast between his extravagant penthouse and your cozy but still quite modern townhouse in Park Slope is major, but you didn’t expect anything less from the man.

You’ve managed to calm down since you left the venue, but you’re still quite bitter about the comment the woman made. Harry hasn’t tried to ask you about it, but you can tell he is dying to know more about the situation that’s behind the madness.

He fixes you a drink and you find yourself sinking into his comfortable and probably ridiculously expensive couch in his living room area.

“I used to want to be a model,” you start, breaking the silence that settled between the two of you. “When I was a teen. I was a lot thinner, I was a competitive dancer until I was seventeen, but I had a knee injury, so I had to quit.”

Harry sits on the other end of the couch, listening to you with patience as he sips on his own drink.

“I was never as thin as the other models at the agency I was trying to get into, but I definitely wasn’t overweight. Yet, they labelled me as a plus size model. I was a healthy, strong young girl with a perfectly good body, yet they told me that I was too fat to be a model.”

Glancing at Harry, you can tell that he is surprised at the information he just learned. He is probably picturing you thinner now, going to model castings and if you’re being honest you enjoyed that part. The trouble came when you got rejection after rejection, telling you to lose weight and come back after that.

“I quit my whole plan to be a model and studied fashion and business instead, consciously working my way towards this point. But I never got over how the industry made me feel less of a person because I wasn’t a size zero.”

For a few long moments Harry just stares at you and it’s actually nice that he doesn’t try to make you feel better right away, praising you how you are perfect just the way you are. Because you’re not, but that’s fine because no one is.

“I’ve honestly never seen a more cruel industry than fashion before,” he then speaks up. “I didn’t grow up in it and still don’t really have that much and deep connection with it, but I know how fucked up it is. And it’s nice to see that you know your worth even after everything that happened.”

Your gaze meets his and you’re looking for any sign that gives away that he is just messing with you, but it’s all genuine. You just shoot him a small smile before lifting your drink to your lips. It��s the most intimate moment you’ve shared with him, including the ones you had in that bathroom.

“Okay, now you tell me something about your life,” you prompt, wanting to divert the conversation on him a little bit.

“What do you want to know?” he asks with a soft chuckle.

“Why did you name your brand Twisted?” you ask. The question has been on your mind for a while.

“It’s coming from my mum’s name. Anne Twist.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, you weren’t expecting such a deep and personal reason behind the name, connected to a family member.

“Why her?”

“Why not?” he smirks shrugging his shoulders. “She raised me and my sister up, I wouldn’t be here without her. It was obvious I would make her be part of it in some kind of way.”

“That’s actually very nice. Who knew that you could be something other than an egoistic asshole!” you joke, making him laugh as well.

“Okay, what’s the meaning behind your brand?” he then turns it back around.

“Well, my aunt met her husband when they were very young, maybe eighteen. She fell in love with Fabio on her trip to Italy and being the impulsive and adventurous woman that she is, she stayed for a month there just because of Fabio. He is a very passionate man and he was always ready to bring the stars down for Julia. He always used to tell her that he would even catch a comet for her, if that’s what she wanted. And that was my aunt’s favorite saying from him. Cometa is comet in Italian. It’s her tribute to the love of her life.”

“That’s easily the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard,” Harry hums and you just smile nodding at him. It really is like a fairytale and it’s also one of the reasons why you were so happy to take her place at Cometa. Julia is still just as in love with Fabio as she was at eighteen and she deserves to spend more time with her beloved husband. She earned the time off after all the sacrifices she made for the company and all through them Fabio stayed by her side. It’s their well-earned happy ending now.

“You know a lot about romantic things?” you cock an eyebrow at him, finishing up your drink.

“Actually, I’m a quite romantic guy.”

“Are you now?”

“Yeah, you just never gave me the chance to show it to you.”

“Oh, so now I’m the bad guy?” you chuckle, handing him your glass when he stands from the couch to get you a refill.

“Exactly!” he chuckles holding up your empty glass on his way. “I hope you know you absolutely broke my heart when you didn’t give me your number that night.”

“Oh, you poor little thing,” you chuckle, resting your head in your palm, your elbow on the back of the couch. “I’m not sorry though. You didn’t give out the right vibes.”

“The right vibes?” he huffs as he returns with your drink and now sits a little closer to you. “What vibe did I give you?” “The vibe that told me I shouldn’t mess with you,” you simply answer as you take a sip from your refilled drink.

“You were so keen on hating me even before you knew who I was, I can’t believe you,” he chuckles shaking his head.

“I’m just cautious!” you protest. “I’ve dealt with some problematic men in the past, I can’t let myself walk right into another one that easily.”

“What did they do?”

“Some men just can’t treat women right. Especially confident ones with a body like mine,” you simply shrug.

Men like to think that bigger girls are so terribly insecure about their body that they need the validation of a male to feel good about themselves. But when you’re confident and feel good in your own skin without needing them to praise you, they think that you’re egoistic, so full of yourself and they are quick to try to drag you down. That’s something you can’t tolerate. You don’t need a man to feel good about yourself, you don’t need anyone for that. You know your worth and that’s all that matters.

Harry’s eyes travel down your body, taking his time on your curves and you smile shaking your head as you reach out and cupping his chin you pull his head up so he is looking into your eyes.

“I honestly can’t see what problem anyone could have with your body. I haven’t stopped thinking about it since our bathroom fiasco,” he bluntly comments making you chuckle, even flattered by his words.

“You are such a flirt,” you grin at him and he doesn’t try to protest.

You stay for a couple more drinks and you drop the heavier topics, venturing over to music, fashion and any funny stories that come to your mind. Harry is actually amazing company when you’re not trying to jump at each other’s throat and for a few short hours you forget that he is supposed to be your competitor.

You’re a little tipsy, but you are definitely not drunk, so when Harry offers you to stay the night you turn it down, calling yourself a car since you are not in the right state to drive.

“I’ll come and pick my car up in the morning,” you breathe out as you put your heels back on that came off your feet sometime during the evening, making yourself home in his place.

“I’ll text you the security number to the garage,” he nods, walking you to the elevator.

“Thank you. And… I guess thank you for the evening,” you smile at him, turning to face him. He is standing close, but still takes a step closer, one of his hands finding your waist as he pulls you against his chest. Your palms lie flat on his chest as you try to get yourself to the right mindset to leave now before you regret doing something. Leaning down his nose nudges against your cheek, before he presses a soft kiss under below your ear, a sigh escaping your lips.

“I should go, the car is here,” you breathe out, but don’t move.

“Mm, okay,” he hums, his lips peppering kisses on your jaw and your cheek, as if you didn’t say a word. You want to continue it, not just because of the alcohol but because the sexual tension between the two of you has been growing since that charity gala, but the remainder of your rationality stops you before your lips could meet.

“Bye Harry,” you smile at him softly as you push him away and you walk into the elevator, leaving him hanging. Again.

“Bye Y/N. I’m still going to try to ruin your company!” he calls after you as you turn around to face him, the sliding doors slowly closing between the two of you.

“Same back at you, Styles,” you smirk before the door closes and you are taken down.

Well, that was a lie. Following your evening at his place neither of you really tries to work against the other, leaving each other be without any fuss. It might also have something to do with how you kept in touch after that day. You’ve been texting occasionally, attending some events together, even had a business dinner together with a few other peers from the industry. Things have been quiet and you’ve been feeling content with the current state you’ve managed to reach. Or so you thought.

It was a silent agreement between the two of you. You both put your projects aside that targeted the other’s profile. Harry stopped looking for designers for his women lines and you put your men department to the side as well. There were a lot to work on beside these fields so you felt like you were in peace. Right until Leslie bursts into your office on a casual Tuesday.

“Have you seen this?” she asks, placing a tablet in front of you with an Instagram account open on it.

You want to ask what you’re supposed to look at, but then you realize what it really is. A shiny new account for a new brand that promises to take online shopping to the next level; female and male as well.

“You think it could be…?” you ask, not quite convinced that Harry is behind this.

“Well, the wording is similar to theirs and creating a new brand might be a solution to their gap in women’s fashion,” she points it out, though you don’t want to believe he could have been working on this all along, basically in front of your face.

But it’s a possibility and you have to consider this option before jumping into defending him without any proof.

“Men can’t be trusted,” you grumble under your breath before jumping into work.

What you didn’t know is that an eerily similar situation goes down in Harry’s office as well when Zayn bursts in, showing him the ad he found for the new brand called Farfalla.

Harry immediately digs up everything about the company, though there’s not much other than their new Instagram account and heavy marketing that started just yesterday.

“What is Farfalla even?” he grimaces leaning back in his chair.

“It means butterfly in Italian,” Zayn explains and Harry’s eyes flicker up to him.

“Italian? You think it’s her?”

“It’s possible,” Zayn nods. “Starting a new brand to finally reach men’s fashion is a good idea.”

“She wouldn’t have done this,” Harry shakes his head in disbelief. Could you be working on this all along? Was this your plan from the start? To make him fall for you and forget about business while you built up your new empire to ruin him?

“What if she did?” Zayn prompts and in a way his suspicion is valid, but Harry is having a hard time believing it. You would never play him this dirty, not after how the two of you have grown closer in the past weeks, almost became friends.

“What are you going to do?” Zayn asks him as he pushes himself away from the desk and quite obviously starts getting ready to leave.

“She is not getting away from this,” Harry mumbles under his breath as he grabs his coat and phone before storming out of the office.

It’s past six when Harry gets to Cometa’s building and he is informed that you’ve already went home. He could have just come back in the morning, but he knew he would just stew in his own anger if he didn’t talk to you as soon as possible. So using his charm he gets the woman sitting behind the front desk to share your address with him, saying that he needs to talk to you urgently. That’s how he finds himself heading to Park Slope, slightly surprised you are not living somewhere in the heart of Manhattan.

As the scenery around his changes, skyscrapers turning into brick buildings and townhouses, Harry tries to figure out what he even wants to say to you. Should he just get straight down to business and accuse you? Snap at you? Or should he give you the chance to explain yourself? He can’t really make up his mind, mostly because he still feels like you betrayed him even though he can’t be sure Farfalla is yours.

Parking down at the address he got from the woman, he stares up at the deep red brick townhouse, a simple, black door at the top of the stairs that’s lined with a few potted plants and flowers. This is not what he would have imagined your home like, but now that he is standing on your doormat, he realizes it kind of suits you.

Ringing the bell he hopes that you’re home and not out and about somewhere in the city, but when he hears the familiar sound of heels clicking on the floor he knows you are on the other side. When the front door flings open and you come into his sight, for a split second he forgets why he is here and his anger vanishes. As always, you look amazing, a tight, black dress hugging your curves, the middle part appearing like it’s a corset, emphasizing the dip of your waist. Your hair is let down in loose curls and your feet are bare, but he knows you probably wore heels all day. You must have gotten home not long ago and as your eyes fall on the man at the door, your expression hardens on him.

“You really had the balls to come her, huh?” you cock your head to the side, keeping your eyes on his green ones for a moment before you let him inside.

“Did you think you could get away with it?” he huffs walking into the hallway and stopping as you close the door and turn to him.

“Me? I could say the same! You thought I would just ignore it or what? I proved you a few times that I’m not stupid, Harry,” you retort, folding your arms on your chest as you walk past him, into the kitchen and he follows.

“You surely are not stupid, playing me so dirty behind my back!” Harry spats standing his ground. “Playing all friendly and nice and then make a fool out of me!”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” you question narrowing your eyes at him as you lean against the kitchen island’s counter. “If anyone played dirty it’s you! And you have the balls to come here and talk like this to me in my own fucking home?!” you snap, walking closer to him, keeping your deathly glare on him.

“What the fuck did I do?!” he scoffs throwing his hands into the air.

“You created a whole new brand just to fuck with me! Or did you think I wouldn’t find out about it?!”

“Me? You made a new brand! And you didn’t do a great job hiding the fact that it was your work, even the name is Italian, like your current one!”

You stare back at him, tilting your head to the side as you process what he is talking about. All along, the two of you were accusing each other of something neither of you did.

“Harry,” you breathe out, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Farfalla is not my brand.”

“And I’m supposed to believe it?!”

“Well you better be because it’s the fucking truth!”

“Prove it!” he hisses at you, taking a step closer, his face only inches away from yours now.

“Until about twenty seconds ago I thought that it was your new brand, Harry. I thought that you were the one who backstabbed me!” you snap back, standing up for yourself in this giant misunderstanding you fell into, accusing each other without any proof.

Harry stares back at you, his gaze burning into yours as he stands his ground and you can almost see the gears turning in his head as he processes your words.

“So… it’s not yours? You didn’t do it to fuck me up?”

“Of course not!” you breathe out, suddenly quite tired of all the anger that’s been eating you away through the afternoon. “I thought that we had a kind of silent agreement not to mess with each other so I wasn’t planning anything anytime soon. That’s why I got so mad when I thought you did it!”

“I thought the same!” he growls shaking his head. “I thought you did it all to just make me look stupid, that the friendly act was just so I wouldn’t notice a thing and I fell right into your trap.”

“There was no trap,” you simply tell him and you hope he senses the hidden meaning behind your words.

Luckily he does. But for your biggest surprise there’s no snarky comment or smug smirking, he just steps closer and before you could even protest, his hands find your waist and he pulls you against his hard chest, lips hungry attacking yours. He makes you back until you bump against the kitchen island, his hips pressing against yours as he pushes you against the hard surface, his hands wandering on your sides and back, up and down, exploring every curve of your body while his kisses never slow down, your tongues meeting in the middle.

Bringing up a leg you curl it around his hips, your heel digging into his round ass as he leans forward, making you arch your back, leaning onto the counter as his lips move from your lips to your jawline and neck, his fingers digging into your waist and the thigh that’s lifted by his side. He nibbles on the soft skin of your neck, definitely leaving a mark, but you just comb your fingers through his hair, letting yourself get lost in the sensation.

“As much as I would love to fuck you on a counter again, can we take this to a bedroom?” he mumbles as he kisses his way back up to your lips, smirking against them as he captures them again.

You don’t answer, just grab his hand and pull him upstairs with you, right into your bedroom. He is all over you, lips, hands, tongue, pressed up against you as the two of you stumble your way to your king sized bed. Harry’s fingers fidget with the corset on your dress, but he soon realizes it’s a little trickier than he expected, so leaning back he furrows his eyebrows as he glances down at the dress, still trying to figure out how to get you out of it.

“Harry,” you smile at him softly. “It’s faux. There’s a zipper at the back,” you inform him and he sighs in defeat as he kisses you again, his fingers quickly finding the zipper. The dress pools at your feet and you rid him from his jacket and shirt, revealing his inked chest, a sight you’ve been thinking about way too much lately.

By the time the two of you fall to your bed, neither of you are dressed in more than just your underwear. Because both of you like to be in charge, you roll around for a while, trying to get on top of each other but eventually Harry stays up when he starts going down on you, kissing his way through your heated skin. You don’t shy away when his hands snake under your back and easily unclasps your bra, being bare in front of him is not something that makes you feel uncomfortable or insecure. The way he looks at you, the way he makes you feel brings you so much confidence, you have absolutely no problem being nude.

When your bra flies to the floor, Harry leans back a little to admire you lying there, before his lips find their way over the curve of your breasts, down your stomach. Hooking his fingers into the elastic of your panties he tugs them down easily as you lift your hips, your thighs parting as you bare yourself in front of him.

“Don’t be shy about screaming my name,” he smugly tells you before his lips and tongue meet your clit. Your fingers lace through his hair immediately as you gasp out at the sensation, his tongue drawing the whole fucking alphabet to your bundle of nerves. His arms curl around your thighs, ring clad fingers digging into your flesh as he sucks on the sensitive skin.

“Fuck, Harry! Yes!” you moan out, tugging on his locks when he teases his tongue around your hole, your walls tightening around nothing as you are growing desperate to feel something inside of you.

You pull on his hair, signaling him that you want to get it on with, Hands reaching down to get rid of his boxer briefs before you blindly pull out the drawer of your nightstand, grabbing a condom. His lips eagerly meet yours as he wraps his erected cock and though you would love to have a taste of him like he did with you, you just want to feel him inside you.

“Tell me how bad you want it,” he growls against your lips, teasing you with running just the head up and down your slit.

“If you don’t fuck me right now I’m gonna rip your guts out,” you warn him, earning a soft chuckle as he kisses you again, tongue pushing into your mouth as he finally pushes inside you, his long, thick cock filling you up perfectly and it somehow feels even better than the first time.

“Go hard,” you gasp, a hand coming to grab his ass as you push him even further into you. He doesn’t need more, he starts slamming into you, his hips meeting yours roughly with each thrust, his whole length disappearing inside you every time.

He buries his head into the crook of your neck, licking and sucking on the soft skin. You almost think about telling him not to mark you, but it just turns you on even more so you let him do whatever he wants.

“I want to see you on top,” he pants, lifting his head so his gaze could meet yours. You nod, before the two of you turn around and you straddle his hips, guiding him back inside you as you sink down his length. Your hands are sprawled out on his hard chest as you find your balance in the position, Harry’s eyes roaming your body up and down, not able to get enough of how blissful you look, sitting with his cock buried inside of you, enjoying yourself to the fullest. His hands run up your thighs and upper body until they find your breasts, kneading them as you start moving your hips up and down, back and forth. When you moan his name or gasp because his cock reaches that one particular spot inside you, those are the moments he wishes he could capture on camera and watch whenever he wants.

“I want it from back,” you pant as you lean down and kiss him roughly. That’s all he needs, he helps you get off of him before you get on all four, pushing your butt up in the air while Harry kneels behind you, the sight in front of him hardening his cock even more, if that’s possible. His hands grab onto your waist as he pushes inside you, making you both let out a satisfied moan before he starts moving again.

“Fuck, you look so good like this, Y/N. I love your ass,” he growls, giving it a smack that surprises you, but you absolutely love it.

“Harry, go faster!” you whimper, feeling your orgasm nearing as you grip the comforter on the bed, desperate to reach your climax. You’re just about to reach down between your legs to play with your clit when Harry not only picks his pace up but also reaches around you, two of his fingers starting the circling motions on the bundle of nerves, making your legs shake from the pleasure.

“Come on, baby. Cum for me, cum all over my cock,” he growls, railing you from behind without missing a beat.

“Harry!” you scream when he thrusts into you so harshly, your whole body rocking in the motion.

“Come on, angel. Cum for me,” he murmurs and leaning down he wraps his arms around you, bringing you up straight, your back pressing against his sweaty chest, his hands coming to cup your breasts as he keeps thrusting up into you, pushing you over the edge.

You moan and gasp and scream his name as your walls tighten around his length, riding out your bliss and it helps him reach his own high, his hot breath hitting the back of your neck and shoulder, grunting and cursing under his breath as he fills the condom.

As his thrusts come to a halt, he sinks into a sitting position, bringing you with him, you lean against him feeling like jelly as you’re still just trying to catch your breath. Harry peppers your shoulder with small kisses before you muster the energy to break the position and lie down on the bed.

“Towel is in the bathroom,” you tell him knowing that’s what he’ll look for as he stands from the bed and you point at the door that leads to the joined bathroom. Harry nods and pads his way in there, cleaning himself up before he returns with a small damp towel, doing the same for you. He drops it to the floor next to the bed before joining you, cradling you into his arms as you take a breather together.

One hand is on your shoulder, fingers dancing on the naked skin, the other one is holding your thigh that’s across his lap while your head is resting on his chest.

“You really thought I would backstab you like that?” he hums after a while, breaking the comfortable silence.

“You did the same,” you answer, lifting your head, resting your chin on his chest.

“Touché,” he chuckles, before leaning down he kisses you shortly. “So, if neither of us did it, then we have a quite major problem on our hands.”

“I know,” you hum. “That shit looks promising and they can easily ruin both of us.”

Harry stays silent for a little, but you can see the gears turning in his head. When his gaze snaps back at you, you know he has an idea.

“Unless… we join forces.” Your eyebrows arch as you stare back at him. “I know it’s a risky move, but this is the only way to stay on the top.”

“How much you want to be joined?”

“We could start with just one line, the men part designed by someone from me and the women by someone from you. And if it presents well we can just figure out where to go from there. Obviously, the men part would be sold by us and the women by you, but we could join the pages and direct users to each other’s sites in connection with the lines.”

“That could… actually work,” you nod shortly, thinking about the idea. It needs a lot of planning, but it could actually be a big hit if you do it right. “And you’re willing to partner with me?” you ask cheekily as you push yourself up into a sitting position, Harry doing the same.

“If you haven’t noticed, I’m willing to do about anything with you,” he chuckles, making you smile at his playful answer. “I hope you know I’m not talking about just business,” he then adds with a meaningful look.

“You are still so keen on this?” you sigh, tugging your hair behind your ear.

“Do you not like being with me?”

“I do, surprisingly,” you roll your eyes, making him laugh.

“Do you not like having sex with me?”

“I think the answer is pretty obvious to that,” you give him a look as he smirks back at you.

“Yeah, but I want to hear it.”

“I enjoy having sex with you, Harry,” you roll your eyes again, but he just kisses you short but hard before leaning back.

“So then why shouldn’t we date?”

“Because we are competitors?”

“We just agreed that we should join forces. We are partners now.”

“You are running a little ahead, Harry,” you cock an eyebrow at him. “I don’t know, I haven’t been in a relationship in ages. I probably suck at it at this point,” you shrug, but it’s just a lame excuse and you both know that. Leaning closer Harry smirks at you smugly.

“I have something else you can suck.” You smack his chest at his nasty remark, but can’t push a smile back. His hand finds the back of your head as he pulls you in for another kiss. “I want you, Y/N. I really do. You are all I think about even when you are an annoying piece of shit, getting under my skin. I still want you.”

“Wow, so romantic,” you chuckle shaking your head. “What if we can’t get over our differences in the business? That can easily poison any relationship.”

“Then we’ll have a lot of mind-blowing angry and makeup sex. Those are the best. We can put all our frustration into sex, I think that’s just perfect.”

“What are you, a horny teenager? Sex is all you can think about?” you chuckle.

“It is when I’m lying in a bed with you naked. You can’t blame me,” he grins smugly and you want to hate him, you want to hate him so badly, but you can’t. You want him just as much as he wants you.

“So… partners?” he prompts, tilting his head to the side with a sweet smile as he waits for your answer.

“Partners in business and life?”

“Mhm, that’s the plan,” he nods, his smile growing wider with each passing second.

“Alright,” you breathe out. “So… it’s not—All is fair in war and business?” you ask teasingly, using his own words from earlier.

“Just shut up and kiss me,” he laughs, pulling you in for another kiss.

Thank you for reading! Please like/reblog if you enjoyed!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles au #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #ceo!harry #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles smut

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alberivh · 3 years ago

Text

The gravestone of the wilderness — (scraps)

diluc x gn!reader — fluff, angst, comfort/hurt, death, implied werner syndrome, memory loss.

the second stage of diluc’s life, death and you.

a/n : a very very messy writing which were written by me for 2 days…? please listen to je te laisserai des mots while reading this, it would improve your imagination more <3

oh to be a normal couple. Lying in your frail shoulder, diluc exhales his heavy breathing. Trading the air with a brain of oxygen and beauty of life, he let your hands wrapped to his arm. Soothed his messy-red-hair and hearing the whisper of the freedom. Near the lakes of the winery, stand your figure and diluc seeing the sunset in mesmerized glances. It was a peaceful evening, even the birds seems too peaceful that it hurts your soul. The world isn’t fine, how come everything became so peaceful today?

“diluc, quick question..” , you called out his name. Stealing the sunset gaze from diluc’s eyes. His breathing is heavy, his heartbeat is unexpectedly warm. Yet you found his presence a little bit too cold..and too fragile.

“and..what is it?”

“who’ll die first, me or you?” , the question is simple. Like a sword to a warriors body, straightforward and cut short. You pay no attention to diluc’s tighten grip, avoiding his eye contact is the way you make his answer straight and honest. After all, you only want to hear his intentions, why did he still seek you even after your condition worsened? He could had the chance to escape from your affection 3 months ago but why did he stay? Did he pitied the unknown for not being the best of his life?

“you” cold and strong. His whole sight focused on your eyes. Anxiety fills it, tears could even force itself to leave your eyes if diluc told you how your eyes show everything. He seen through you and for so many time, he predicted your words. I don’t have any days left diluc.., is your favorite line. The one he thought to be a bullshit.

“just as i expected”

“but you do know i’m not your doctor right?”

“i trust my lovers instinct better than the doctors, they’re a bunch of creeps anyways” , the sunset falls to the edge of the winery before you could finish your reply. the infuse, the breathing machines and the ventilators were all beside you, accompanying you these past weeks. it was bothersome to bring them all together, but thanks to diluc, you could felt as if you were alive. and with no essentials-help you are fine.

diluc saw your anxiety trembles to sobs. the sunset was over and thus—began the starry moonlight which bright to the breezing sky of monstadt.

“thank you..diluc…” , you carefully clinge to his arm. Hugging it tightly without letting your infuse disturbed the warm of his body. your fingers gone numb but his warmth, it radiates so much energy and comfort to be alive. tears fall to his jacket, the moonlight was yet to be found and here you are pleading your lover to stay. Even if you’re both better dying off alone.

“dying off young is pretty tragic don’t you think? Like us..”, whispering your thoughts under the darkened sky and to diluc who was staring empty at your eyes. It was quite and clear to be hear in diluc’s ear but maybe he prefers to drown himself to your frail shoulder, so he could escape from the reality you were going out from his lines.

“y’know diluc, if i were alive till the 32 years of your life, i’ll be happy to laid on our deathbed together..” , a not so sappy thought to be precise. But diluc tries to understand from what are you implying to say, he doesn’t want to make himself fooled by the guilt of his past.

“and what makes you say that?”

“diluc we all know that i’m dying, i couldn’t always stay like this can i?” “I just want to be free that’s all..but diluc…i don’t wish for someone to forget about me…i want them to know i’m used to be alive and well, i want them to know i’m in love.” — i want them to know i’m in love with you diluc, i don’t want to leave you behind. I don’t want someone to abandoned me behind. I love you diluc. How many times have i told you that? I lost count.

minutes feels like seconds, under the starry night you felt nothing but warm. The warm of his heart and his radiance, although it seems like a facade to hide from your sharp-vision. He is beautiful. but with diluc’s lips under your dry mouth, You could feel more the presence of his fading-figure. Wandering through his palm, the space of his cold fingers and his salty tears. He was crying out of madness. He was frustrated that he couldn’t been able to save you from your draining thoughts.

the sharp needles inside your infuse feels numb. The breathing tube wasn’t as heavy as before. Diluc lips is the only thing you could feel. Under the moonlight, he drops his devotion to his knees. Hands wrapped to your delicate-fragile self. Under the days he left you behind, he apologize. As Now he is humming your lips with hopeless wishes. His kisses are soft, gentle as the wind. Pyro seems so warm to your cryo vision. Unknown for love and ambition to be bear. so this is how falling in love feels like?

the sunrise have awoken, another day has finally begun. Sitting at the balcony with his brother, reading letters and wishes from his inner family circle. Eyebags have grown to diluc’s glance, even his wrinkles start to form onto his charming face. His hair start to fall out to thin airs, leaving half of the once burning red to a pale-silver colored. Enjoying his time with the breeze of the sun, diluc realizes kaeya standing figure. he must be going somewhere..

“Kaeya where are you going?” , voice gone frail. His voice aren’t as strong as before. Even his flatter organs are better than the rusty voice kaeya heard.

“to visit someone, it’s their birthday afterall..want to join in, good-master di—“

“shut up don’t you say that name again” , crossing the words. He exhales his breath. Giving himself an opportune moment to breath the fresh morning air. He flinch to the song of the birds, watching them fly ti the air while the letters flew to the side of the tables. it was a peaceful day for diluc to rest, but nonetheless..he always forgot them. Them who aren’t here anymore. father..and..who are they again?

“Alright big brother diluc ragnvindr..just sit on your wheelchair and prepare your stuff, we’re going to windrise right now.”

“It’s not vennessa’s birthday kaeya, why’d you want to take me to windrise? Are y—“ cutting diluc’s voice, kaeya managed to give him the usual smug face on his sight. Making diluc seems more uncomfortable by his plan.

“Yeah yeah..just stick your butt on the wheelchair already mister, we’re going now woohoo!” , whistling to excitement diluc found his brother action to be quite..suspicious. The road was smooth, maybe because the land of winery belongs to diluc’s and his bloodlines, no? Windrise wasn’t that far from the winery, maybe it is far for someone like diluc to explore such an area in the first place.

Windrise, the inner nation of freedom. The location of free will and vennessa legacy. But why does it feel so..cliché for diluc to remember? He doesn’t remember anything about windrise. He doesn’t remember anything about dying, he doesn’t even remembered the gravestone in front of him now. The air was fresh. The leaves and flowers which grow from the small-location of the gravestone was unexpectedly beautiful. The name which were craved in it was unreadable, maybe it was..once. But never again it would be readable to diluc’s eye.

“happy birthday (name)..me and diluc is in here to plant some cecilia’s..would you mind? Ah if you do..you could breeze the bells there, please don’t mind diluc, he’s lost right now.” , kaeya pleaded to downfall of the gravestone. Whispering questions and rants for the owner of it to know. The bell rang and under the wing it sang. they gladly appreciate your visit, diluc. Kaeya steal his glance to diluc’s unfocused eyes, it look as if it were questioning every each of it’s memories. Who are they and why does kaeya think of them as one of the part of him?

Planting the seeds of cecilia under the ground of the suspicious gravestone. The Crystalflies even surrounded it with grace, as if they all belong to their first habitat, the gravestone of the wilderness. Who are they and why are their remenance so…beautiful?

“hmhm, goodjob. Thank you for accepting our birthday offer..diluc and i will go now, farewell for now, see you soon” , cleaning the dirt from the gravestone. Diluc once again asked kaeya’s answer. But nothing could be found from his brother mouth, it seems it was hidden for diluc’s sake.

“you’ll recognize them again diluc, sooner or after.”

soon never came. Kaeya wasn’t here, he was already gone from the resident, Taking diluc’s place aren’t that easy after all. pale and unrecognized, diluc came to his once work office which he never touch any longer. Searching for documents for kaeya to read for him later at night. His fingertips are still the same, numb and empty. I lack something but what are they…? This uncureable piece of shit was such a bothersome.

oh..what is this..?

a letter? — opening it with caution, diluc found the sight of something he craves. The writing of those who couldn’t be recognized by his mind, yet the feeling..it was warm. So warm and comfortable, that it even shakes diluc’s empathy.

to, my sweetheart, diluc ragnvindr.

i never knew when would you opened this but i think you opened it few years since i have died. I know the side affects of your ilness. So i wouldn’t mind if you forget me all along. It’s not your fault for leaving your old memories and life behind, your ilness is one of the part of your issues diluc and I totally understand that, better than kaeya, better than adeline or elzer. And if you forget about me, it’s fine. You don’t need to remember me, just read this all along alright?

Diluc, my swetheart. You probably found this crumpled behind your documents. Maybe kaeya would found it first than you do and it wouldn’t be much of a problem for me to bare, after all i’m dead and even if you apologize i wouldn’t dare to say i would forgive you. Cause diluc, i’m hopelessly in love with you. I love you diluc. Even if you forget me, even if you died in your old age and disastrous days, even if you don’t love me any longer. I’ll be very happy if you could still read this letter. Your curiosity is the reason i’m alive for once diluc. Your warm is the reason of my short-recovery diluc. You are everything. And if you forgot, then it’ll be fine. Read this letter everytime you felt lost, because no home without your lover, no? Ah nevermind that’s a shitty joke isn’t it diluc? Hehe

I’m very satisfied with what I’ve achieved in my lifetime. I got to be with you and your family. I feel like i’m apart of them, apart from who i become. I escape and i’m alright. I’m alive and it’s all because of you diluc. I’m happy. Very happy. But one thing i couldn’t regret more is the fact i couldn’t marry you and tell my devotions to the crowds. I want you foreve diluc, but our time is short enough for each other sake. Fate was cruel, but it’s fair and merciful. It gave us a time to met each other and i’m thankful.

So diluc, whenever you feel lost. Feel free to found me in the crystalflies and in the starry night of the winds. Whenever you need me, i’ll be there. just so let you know i’m the donor of your heart, please don’t regret the fact i’m sharing my life with you. I’m happy to know you are alive, diluc. As long ad you enjoyed your days and live a well-long life, i’ll be happy to give you my everything. I might couldn’t give you this year, but here. Open this envelope, it’s a present. For what exactly? For your own love, diluc. Accept it, would you? I don’t mind if you wouldn’t, but if you want to wear it, feel free to use it.

I’m very happy to be alive diluc, i love you.

The letters ended and so do his tears scroll through his cheeks. The crystalflies in the gravestone. Oh it’s you all along..? Why didn’t you cry out of regret? Are you happy for what diluc became? Are you, my dear…? He was scared of letting you loved him again. He deserve nothing but your hatred. The envelope, it was fill with your charm bracelet. The matching bracelet you used to talk with diluc.

The gravestone, the cecilia’s..? Aren’t those the promises diluc made before? i’ll grow garden of hundreds cecilia’s with you. But he forgot. Your existance are nothing to him anymore, he lost his senses, he lost everything. This heart..your heart. It was pounding rapidly, it even showed diluc emotions again. He was crying in pain. He was crying in sorrow. Oh god, i wish i’m not that weak. I wish i still love you the same as how those letter told me. Darling, will you love me again? No response. He was truly out of his mind to forget the ones who bring his dimmed eyes back alive. So once again he confesses, falling to his knees as he begged for his mind to remembered you.

The days have past so did you died in his eyes. Casket opened and emptied with your body, cecilia all over the ground. You are dead and yet the pounding heart of yours are the result of love. Strokes his body with empty thoughts, he began to murmured again his love.

your heart..it’s warm, My dear.

TAGLIST : @mikachuchu , @zierx, @childeluv @urujiako , @chichikoi , @noirkkat , @aphrodicts-imagination

#diluc ragnvindr #diluc angst #diluc ragnvindr angst #diluc #diluc ragnvindr x reader #diluc x reader #genshin impact diluc angst #genshin impact angst #diluc fanfic #diluc ragnvindr fanfic #genshin impact headcannons #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfic #veille’s angst #dilux x y/n #diluc ragnvindr x y/n

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fruitcoops · 3 years ago

Note

hi eve! what do you think about a video where couples do the chapstick challenge? like jily vs coops and they compete to see what couple guesses more right! idk i think i would be fun

It's been too long since I wrote one of these--I missed them! Coops, Cubs, and SW Jily belong to @lumosinlove <3

“Welcome back, everyone!” Dorcas said with a smile to the camera. “It’s been over a month since our last big video like this due to scheduling, but we hope you’ve been enjoying our more active social media presence in the meantime. I’m here today with James and Lily Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and our lovely Cubs. How were your summers, everyone?”

“Hear that, Cap?” Logan’s grin was smug as the cat that got the canary. “I’m lovely.”

“Our summers were great,” Sirius said, ignoring him. “Lots of vacation time.”

“At our house,” Lily teased.

“Yeah, while you were on vacation. It’s called being a good godfather.”

“I’m glad you all had fun,” Dorcas interjected smoothly as she pulled three bags from under her chair. “Because we’ve got a very special game today. Inside these bags are ten blank chapstick tubes, each with a different flavor. One person from each team will apply the chapstick to their lips, and their partner will first have to kiss them, then guess the flavor. Finn, Leo, and Logan, your team will have two guessers.”

“They get two guesses?” Remus protested. “That’s so unfair!”

Dorcas shrugged. “They have to guess at the same time, and they only get one point per correct answer.”

Finn raised his eyebrows. “Y’know, Loops, you’re starting to sound pretty homophobic over there…”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Remus sighed.

The camera cut; when it returned, Lily, Sirius, and Finn were seated in folding chairs with the bags of chapstick in their laps and a small sticky note in their hands. Across from them, their significant others were sitting with large headphones over their ears.

“Can you hear me?” Dorcas called.

Remus didn’t react at all as he messed with the trailing wire; Logan squinted at her. “Quoi?”

“I can’t hear anything,” James said loudly. “This is super weird. It’s just, like, humming. Honey, it sounds like Harry’s white noise machine!”

Lily smiled reassuringly and patted his hand. “A little quieter, lover.”

“What?”

“A little—nevermind.”

Dorcas’ mouth twitched with a suppressed smile. “Non-guessers, you can find all the flavors written on stickers at the bottom of each tube. Please start with number one on your flavor lists when you’re ready.”

Sirius bit his lip as he riffled through the bag, and Remus leaned forward to give him a light peck at the corner of his mouth. “I haven’t put any on yet!” he laughed.

Remus paused. “What?”

“I haven’t put any chapstick on.”

“Slower, I’m not good at lipreading.”

“Mon dieu,” Sirius muttered with a shake of his head.

Next to him, Finn had already applied his first flavor and was sitting with a happy smile as Leo and Logan thought for a moment. “Is it lime?’ Leo guessed.

“I think it’s lime,” Logan said half a second later. Finn gave them a thumbs-up and the three of them high-fived. “Called it!”

“That’s…lemon? Really sour lemon?” James guessed. Lily shook her head and showed him the tube. “Lime. Shit.”

Remus licked his lips. “Lime?”

Sirius nodded. “Oui!”

“Really? Hell yeah!”

“We’re at a bit of an advantage,” Sirius said as he put the lime in his lap and checked his list. “I wear chapstick all the time.”

“Why?” Dorcas asked, sounding rather amused.

“My lips get dry from being at the rink all day.” Sirius shrugged and put the next one on. A mischievous smile flickered over his mouth and he tilted his chin toward Remus. “He won’t leave me alone, either.”

Remus’ eyebrows pitched and he leaned forward. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“You have to go slower, I really can’t—”

“Green apple!” Logan exclaimed, slapping Finn’s knee in excitement as Dorcas covered her mouth to hide her laughter. “I remembered what it’s called!”

“Correct!” Finn announced.

“I think it’s green apple,” Leo said.

James pulled away and rested his chin on his hand. “Kind of a caramel apple, but without the caramel.” Lily turned to face the camera with a look of disbelief. “So just a normal apple, I guess.”

“Yes!” Lily turned his face toward her with a smile. “You got it!”

“I got it? Woohoo!”

“That’s green apple.” Remus wrinkled his nose. “Tastes like those shitty candy apple lollipops, though. Did I get it?”

Sirius nodded and wiped his lips off. “Number three is pomegranate,” Dorcas announced.

Finn frowned as he dug through his bag. “I don’t—there it is. Wow, this smells really nice.”

Leo paused and smiled before kissing him. “That smells really nice!”

“Does it?” Finn laughed before moving to give Logan a kiss.

“Oh, I like that,” Remus said, kissing Sirius a second time. “No idea what the flavor is, but I like it. Hmm. I have to think about that.”

“Is that frosting?” James asked excitedly as he grabbed Lily’s hands. “Do you have frosting flavored chapstick?”

“No,” she laughed, shaking her head. “What the hell? It’s pomegranate.”

“It’s what?”

“Pomegranate.”

“Persimmon?” She rolled her eyes and showed him the sticker. “Wow, I never would have guessed that.”

“Is it cherry?” Remus guessed. Sirius shook his head and his face fell. “Aw.”

Leo and Logan shared a look as Finn kept his poker face. “I have no idea what that is,” Logan finally said. “It’s sweet, though.”

“Is candy-flavored chapstick a thing?” Leo wondered. Finn held the tube up. “Pomegranates are tart. That wasn’t tart.”

“What the hell is that?” Logan looked to someone off-screen and held one of his headphones away from his ear.

“Une grenade!” someone called.

“Oh! That didn’t taste like it at all.”

All four guessers kissed their partners within a few seconds for the fourth—almost immediately, they pulled away, faces twisting. “Oh my god,” Remus coughed, wiping his lips. “That’s grape. Oh my god.”

James’ nose scrunched. “It’s grape. I don’t like it.”

In a moment of direct action, Leo took the wet wipe Finn had been using and ran it over his mouth while Logan stuck his tongue out. “It’s grape, and it’s gross. No more cough syrup kisses, please.”

“You’re halfway there!” Dorcas called, chalking up their correct guesses on a whiteboard as Lily, Sirius, and Finn applied the fifth flavor.

Sirius held his hand up as Remus started moving in and sneezed. “Desolee. Okay, you can go now.”

Remus kissed him and recoiled in half a second. “More cough syrup? Are you kidding me? It’s not any better when it’s cherry.”

“Dorcas,” Leo whined when he pulled away. “The first ones were such nice flavors!”

“My head hurts just tasting that,” James said miserably. “It’s that awful fake cherry stuff.”

“That’s cherry.” Logan smacked his lips with a grimace. “Eugh.”

Dorcas held up five fingers for them to see as she spoke. “Just five more, and you’re all done. Those are the only bad ones.”

Lily lit up as she applied the sixth and James hurried to kiss her. “Oh, that one is nice! You always wear strawberry. It’s my favorite.”

Remus shrugged. “Kiss was great, flavor’s fine. It’s just fake strawberry, yeah?”

“Whew.” Leo’s eyebrows rose after the kiss. “Very st—”

“Oh, strawberry!” Logan interrupted. “Katie makes me wear something like that when we have tea parties.”

Dorcas added more tallies to her board. “Tremzy, you can’t hear me, but that’s the cutest thing you’ve ever said. We need pictures.”

“I’ll find some,” Finn promised.

Sirius rubbed his lips together and made a face; Remus laughed, running the pad of his thumb along his mouth. “Stop, I can’t kiss you like that! It can’t be that bad.”

“That would give me a headache,” James said, clearly disappointed. “It’s some sort of pineapple monstrosity. Pina colada? I liked the strawberry a lot better.”

“It’s pineapple. Does that count?” Lily asked. Dorcas nodded, and she gave James a high-five.

“That’s not bad,” Leo admitted with a shrug. “Tastes like the dried mango we get at the store, the kind with all the sugar on it.”

“I don’t have the first idea what that is,” Logan said. “Knutty, I’m letting you take the reins here.”

“You’re both wrong,” Finn said, enunciating every word so they could read his lips.

“Baby—” Remus faltered with a laugh and held the wet wipes out of reach as Sirius tried to take them back. “Baby, we don’t get a point if you wipe it off. Just one kiss, okay?”

“Fine,” Sirius grumbled. Remus pressed a sweet kiss to his upper lip and handed him a fresh wet wipe. “Happy now?”

“Oh, I like that,” Remus said. “It’s definitely pineapple. I can see why you hated it so much.”

“Cap, do you not like pineapple?” Dorcas asked. His intense wiping of his lips was the only answer necessary. “We’re in the final three. Sirius, your team is in the lead by one.”

“Come on, hubs,” Lily said as she put the next one on. “This is easy-peasy. We have to beat Cap or we’ll never hear the—”

“Mint!” Leo exclaimed, looking quite proud of himself. “Ooo, it’s like Christmas.”

“I can smell it all the way over here,” Remus laughed, though he didn’t pass up the kiss. “That’s peppermint.”

“It’s like a candy cane,” James said dreamily.

“He’s not going to like this one,” Sirius said as he capped the next chapstick. “I like it, though, and that’s all that matters. Pucker up, Loops.”

“Oh, hell no.” Remus leaned back as Sirius leaned in, keeping his lips out of range. “Nope, not a chance. That’s some plastic vanilla bullshit and I’ll be tasting it all day.”

Dorcas tapped him on the shoulder and he lifted one headphone. “If you don’t taste it, you don’t get a point this round.”

“We can take the hit.”

“What? No!” Sirius protested. “I had to taste the pineapple, remember?”

“I love you and I totally want to win this, but I really, really don’t want that taste in my mouth.”

“Fine,” Sirius sighed, wiping his lips off as Remus readjusted his headphones.

James’ face split into a beaming smile after his kiss. “Birthday cake!”

“No.”

“Shit.”

“Vanilla,” Leo and Logan said in unison.

Finn pumped both fists in the air. “Yes! We’re tied for first!”

Leo gave him a high-five. “I don’t know what you’re saying, but you seem excited about it!”

“Last one,” Dorcas warned. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“You should wear chapstick more often,” James said as Lily lined her lips. “It makes you so soft.”

“He has no idea how greasy my mouth feels right now,” she said fondly with a glance to the camera.

“Tell me about it,” Sirius agreed. “Alright, Loops, don’t pussy out this time.”

Remus narrowed his eyes. “You just told me not to pussy out, didn’t you?”

Sirius blinked at him. “I thought you couldn’t read lips.”

“C’mere.” Remus cupped his jaw in one hand and kissed him, then smiled. “Orange. Did we win?”

“Mmm, that’s what the oranges back home taste like,” Leo said, going in for a second kiss.

Logan licked his lips a couple of times. “Tastes like fancy orange juice. I like it.”

“In a cruel twist of irony, my lips are getting dry,” James said when they parted. Lily raised her eyebrows as he thought. “That’s orange. We won, right?”

“Take off your headphones,” Dorcas said, miming the motion until everyone could hear her before holding her scoreboard up. “Unfortunately, James and Lily are in last place with a score of seven out of ten. Cap and Harzy, your teams are tied for first place with eight out of ten.”

“We could have won if you didn’t have a personal grudge against vanilla,” Sirius said under his breath. Remus threw one of the chapsticks at him and Sirius dropped another down the neck of his shirt.

“Boys.” They both gave Dorcas a sheepish look and she shook her head. “Thankfully, we prepared for this situation with a tiebreaker. Nobody but me knows the flavor, and it is not written on a sticker. Remus, Leo, and Logan, you will not have to put your headphones on again, but you will have to correctly identify both flavors to get their point. You will write your answers on these whiteboards. You only get one kiss to determine your guess. On your marks, get set, go!”

Sirius swiped a decent amount over his lower lip and pulled Remus in with his hands on his cheeks; Finn practically used half the stick covering his mouth before collecting his kisses. “That’s interesting,” Leo murmured, tapping his dry-erase pen on his thigh. “That’s very interesting.”

Remus jotted down an answer and leaned back in his chair with a self-satisfied smile. “You know it?” Sirius asked with a grin.

“I do.”

“Is that your final guess?’ Dorcas checked. He nodded, and she took his pen. “Leo, Logan, do you have a guess as well?”

“I think I know one of the flavors,” Leo said cautiously, bending over to whisper it in Logan’s ear. He hummed in agreement, then whispered back.

“This is so intense,” James murmured, looking between the two teams as Lily perched herself on his lap. “I feel like I’m watching the Olympics.”

“If we get one of the flavors right and Loops gets both wrong, do we win?” Logan asked as Leo wrote their answer down.

Dorcas thought for a moment. “Yeah, sure. But only if Remus gets it completely wrong.”

“What’s the prize?”

“You already get to kiss your partners all afternoon instead of running drills. What more do you want?”

“Amen,” Remus agreed.

“Alright.” Leo handed over the whiteboard pen, though he looked nervous.

“Would you like to go first?” Dorcas offered.

“Coconut and lemon?”

“That is incorrect.”

“Ah, fuck me,” Logan muttered. “Loops, you’d better be wrong.”

Remus’ smile was even more pleased as Dorcas turned to him. “Remus, do you know what it is?”

“Well, Ms. Meadowes, I’m glad you asked. That’s Burt’s Bees honey and coconut.” He flipped the board with a flourish. “And it just so happens that my boyfriend bought that exact chapstick at the store last week and has worn it every single day since then.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Leo looked between them in shock as Logan’s jaw dropped. Finn buried his face in his hands. “Of every flavor on earth—”

“I promise it was not intentional,” Dorcas said, though she was laughing a little. “I literally rolled dice to pick it while I was looking at the website.”

Sirius looked to the ceiling as he pulled Remus’ chair closer. “Thank you, universe, for my terrible impulsive habits in the self-checkout line.”

Dorcas turned to the camera with a dimpled smile and spread her hands. “Thank you for joining us for the chapstick challenge, Lions! You can find all these flavors at the link in the description. Like and subscribe for more videos like this, have a great day!”

#remus lupin #sirius black #james potter #lily potter #leo knut #finn ohara #logan tremblay #coops #oknutzy #jily #sweater weather #vaincre #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #lion pride #social media #chapstick challenge

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bbrandy2002 · 4 years ago

Text

Happy Birthday Burnsy!

The Country AU -- I'm Gonna Live Where The Green Grass Grows

Pairing: Drake x Alyssa, Liam x Riley, and a whole host of other TRR characters.

A/N: This was a silly little idea I had months ago for an AU built around the places and people where I grew up. I never had plans to actually write it, but I mentioned it to Burns, and well ... she wanted it lol so here we are. And she’s already read half of this and is the one who made the mood board for it and the song inspo hahaha. Thank you to @mskaneko for the edits of our OTP’s, and @charlotteg234 for pre-reading the first half of this.

Trigger warning: Gun usage, hunting, mild language ... I think that’s it

@burnsoslow

My dearest friend, when I think back at where we were one year ago, I can’t help but be reminded of the vastly different world we live in now. On February 5, 2020, there was no covid keeping us sheltered and fearful, families were complete, jobs were stable, and so many of the things we worried about then simply pale in comparison to now, Life wasn’t so bad. But here we are with all these new changes and mindsets. Through it all, one thing remained consistent: YOU. You have been my strength, my rock, the anchor that grounded me. We have cried together, laughed a lot together, worried for each other, and celebrated those small victories that were important to each other. And I get so happy when someone comments about how much they love the friendship between Riley and Alyssa because it's the most real part of Fearless. If anyone ever wanted to know what we’re like, it's all written out in that story. I’ve got your back, and you have mine. You’re my best friend and I just love the hell out of ya! I hope your birthday is amazing and that this fic is everything you wanted for this AU.

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

On Sunday mornings in southern Georgia, you did one of two things: You woke up early for church services or woke up late to watch NFL football.

Some people figured out a long time ago how to do both.

Sitting in the back pew of the First Cordonian Church of Everlasting Peace, Alyssa Walker sat quietly with the sweetest southern belle smile, nodding her head along to the beautiful words spoken during Pastor Hakim’s sermon and hiding a pair of earbuds lodged in each ear.

She and her husband, Drake, had laid claim to the pew when they were teens trying to sneak a kiss or two during prayers. After ten years of marriage, they no longer needed to sneak kisses but stayed in that same seat, believing the biggest sinners should stay as far away from the minister as possible. Why be the barrier that may prevent the spirit from reaching the rest of the congregation? The couple felt it was the least they could do.

They were actually pretty good folks and well respected in their community. Alyssa had taught first grade for eight years at the local elementary school, where her two children, nine-year-old Audrey and six-year-old Patrick, also attended. Her best friend since third grade, Riley, was the art teacher there.

Drake worked nearby as the lead mechanic at Rys and Sons Chevrolet out on North Ramsford Avenue. Constantine had owned the auto dealership for 35 years before passing it down to his sons, Leo and Liam, when he ran for and became the town's mayor. Leo peaced out, heading to South Florida, while Liam took on the sole responsibility of ownership himself.

And while most people in this sleepy little town of Cordonia were Falcons fanatics, Alyssa grew up rooting for the team where her parents were born and raised before settling in Georgia as newlywed lawyers: The Chicago Bears.

With the game against the Packers blaring into her ear, she kept a keen eye on the rest of her fellow parishioners. When they clapped, she clapped. When they sang, she sang. She raised her hands in hallelujahs when they did. She had learned to read lips and could “Amen” and “Praise God” right on cue with the rest of them. All the while, she sat in contentment, listening to her weekly football games.

“The score with 14 seconds left in the second quarter is Chicago -- 14, Green Bay -- 17. The Bears have the ball on the 5-yard line. It’s third and goal. If Trubisky can score here, they’ll go into the locker room at halftime with a lead for the first time in this game, or possibly tie it all up with a field goal after this down. This is a huge, HUGE play, Jim ...”

Alyssa twined her fingers together and lowered her forehead onto them as she waited with bated breath for the announcer to call the play-by-play. As far as anyone else knew, she was praying fervently for the Hebrews crossing the parted Red Sea away from Pharoah's army that the pastor was chronicling.

“And here comes the snap. Trubisky backs up. He tosses to Robinson in the end zone. OHHH! So close… batted away by Alexender …”

“JESUS!” Alyssa yelled out in anger. With earbuds in, she didn’t realize how loudly that just came out of her mouth. Drake nudged her in the thigh. She glanced over at him for a second before he nodded to the 123 pairs of eyes that had all turned at once in her direction. It instantly dawned on her that everyone in the congregation heard the outburst.

Feeling the color drain from her face, Alyssa placed a hand over her chest and addressed, “I am soooo into this sermon, Hakim. Woohoo! Go, Jesus, go!” She pumped her fist in the air like she was rooting him on.

Drake dropped his face onto Patrick’s shoulder, who was sitting on his lap, to cover the incessant laughter that threatened to spill out of him. He was doing a terrible job of it, as a momentary burst of muffled snickers could be heard through the sound of the game playing in Alyssa’s ear. Her husband was nothing but a big kid himself -- she wouldn’t change that for anything.

“Mommy,” Audrey whispered next to her. “It’s about Moses. Not Jesus.”

Alyssa smiled, patting her daughter’s knee. “Same thing, baby. They both performed miracles.” She cut her eyes to the phone hidden under the cardigan draped across her thighs. “And the Bears need a miracle right now, guys,” she muttered, “Part those shithead Packer’s defensive line, Lord. It’s time to help my Bears get to the promised land.”

“Going for it on fourth down, Trubisky drops back. The Packer defense is putting a lot of pressure on the Bear’s offensive line. Every man is covered in the end zone. He has no one to throw to, Jim. They’re running out of time. Four seconds left. And, NOOO, they sack Trubisky on the 10-yard line … WAIT THE BALL IS LOOSE … THE BALL IS LOOSE ... he fumbled the ball. The Packers are scrambling to get it. There are green and white jerseys all over that ball. BUT LOOK … Green Bay’s Klark picks it up. He’s running the other way … and he just slipped … he just slipped, and the football fell right into the hands of Chicago’s Robinson --”

Alyssa grabbed Drake’s thigh, her fingers digging deeply with hope and panic. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” her stressed words weren’t audible to the crowd, but they were speaking volumes in her heart.

“--Robinson’s on the 20, now 15, he’s sweeping past the defense to the 10 -- 5 -- TOUCHDOWN, CHICAGO!!!”

"FUCK YES!" Alyssa jumped up, her arms outstretched in a V shape. “Hallelujah. Holy shit. Thank ya, Jesus.” She let out a huge sigh of relief, feeling nothing short of elated, not concerned in the slightest by the heads that twisted around again.

Hakim stood slack-jawed from the raised platform for a moment, his tallish physique slouching on the pulpit, before adjusting the microphone and clearing his throat deeply. "I'm certainly glad, Sister Alyssa is ... feeling the spirit this morning."

"I am feeling it, Brother Hakim," She shook her head profusely. "I. Am. Feeling it." She shot him a dimpled grin.

Drake snorted loudly, covering his face with one hand and grabbing the side of her dress to pull her back down with the other.

They turned to each other, neither one able to control the snickering and shaking of their bodies. Drake lifted a sleeping Patrick over his shoulder while Alyssa grabbed Audrey's hand; the Walker couple decided they were too immature for church this morning.

They laughed all the way to the parking lot.

"It's never a dull moment with you, baby girl," Drake chuckled, turning over the ignition.

"You know me …” She blew on her nails before rubbing them against her chest. “... just doing the Lord's work."

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

It was customary in Cordonia for families to gather together each week for a big supper after church.

The Walkers traditionally took turns hosting with Liam and Riley, and Constantine and Regina. This week's meal was at the elder Ryses.

Sitting down at the dining room table, everyone licked their chops, hungry and ready to dig into all the made-from-scratch southern goodness Mrs. Regina had prepared: Fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, coleslaw, macaroni and cheese, green beans with hamhock, corn-on-the-cob, deviled eggs, biscuits, sweet tea, and coffee. It was all accompanied by two containers of broccoli salad, Alyssa picked up from the Piggly Wiggly deli after church, and Riley's lopsided carrot cake.

There was always a lot of food, a lot of love, and what would it be in a small town without a little gossip here and there.

"Regina, you've outdone yourself on this meal," Liam raved while placing his five-month-old son in a high chair and fastening the clasps. "If it tastes as good as it smells, we're all in for a big treat."

Everyone agreed as she sat down, Constantine pushing her chair in with a peck to the top of her head. "Thank you, Liam." She looked up at her husband with a sincere smile, rubbing his arm. "Only the best for our family."

She meant every word of that as she and Constantine glanced around the table at all the cheerful faces of the people they loved most — that included Drake and his family.

Drake's father had been the sheriff for many years before his untimely death, while the younger Walker was a teen. Connie had never met a braver, more hard-working man than Jackson; the now mayor stepped in after that death to be the father figure in Drake's life. Drake was already best friends with Liam, and over time, the family just considered him one of their own. Drake and Alyssa's children referred to them as Mamaw and Papaw Rys.

As everyone settled in and passed the food around the table, the doorbell rang; 7-year-old Ellie -- Liam and Riley's oldest -- jumped up to answer it. With everyone focused on getting their helpings, Riley leaned over and whispered to Alyssa, "Any more scoop on Savannah?"

Alyssa passed the potatoes to her and answered in a hushed tone, "I drove past her house yesterday ... Chuck was there. His big rig was backed right up into the driveway. They're not even trying to hide it anymore."

"I knew it." Riley slapped a scoop of potatoes onto her plate, passing them across to Liam. "When does Bertrand get back from that Bankers Convention in Atlanta?"

"I think Max said on Tuesday. And I guarn-damn-tee, Chuck will be there until then."

"Of course he will. Have you told Drake yet?"

Alyssa shook her head, peeking over at her husband, who was in hog heaven, dousing everything on his plate with white gravy, blissfully unaware of their idle chitchat. She turned back to Riley. "Not yet. You know how protective he is. I'll need to hide the gun cabinet keys when he finds out ... if he finds out. You remember how upset he got when Bianca got caught at the Love's Truck Stop with Landon Ebrim over the summer. His mama can do what she wants, but not with a married man."

Riley agreed with a nod before taking a sip and swallowing her sweet tea. "Ya know, I've never seen sweet Emmaline that angry."

"Yeah, me neither. She sure whopped ass that day." They both giggled lightly. "Landon's dentures flew clean across that truck lot."

"I saw her the other day at the Food Lion, grinnin' like a baked possum. Got that ol' dog for everything he had."

Alyssa huffed, "Cept' his nuts."

Ellie ran back in and hopped in her chair. "Miss Olivia is here!"

Alyssa stiffened, clutching her fork a little tighter before letting out a faint groan. Not that she didn't like the Assistant Principal of Cordonia Elementary -- she was her boss, after all, and they grew up together -- she could just be a little off-putting, sometimes with her treatment of Drake. In light of Olivia's recent divorce, she had, however, started directing most of her scorn on her ex-husband, Anton.

Everyone greeted Olivia as she strolled in behind the youngster, shrugging her jacket off and tossing it on a counter with her purse. "I smelled your chicken and taters all the way from Lythikos Drive, Regina. You know how I love a good rib stickin' meal."

"Is Travis and Waylon here?" Patrick piped up eagerly from the children's table, hoping to have some boys to play with rather than the three little girls who kept ganging up on him.

Olivia pulled out a chair and started loading her plate down. "They're with their daddy this weekend, sugar. I'll tell them you asked about them."

Drake lifted his coffee mug, not making eye contact with anyone. "Speaking of ... I saw Anton yesterday at the Dollar Tree ... with someone." He smirked into his drink. While everyone else knew who and was trying to avoid the elephant in the room, he owed her for years of squabble.

"Who? Madeleine?" Olivia spat, adding heaping spoonfuls of sugar to her already overly sweetened tea. "Bless her rotten heart, he was seeing her before our break up. Moved in with her right after the divorce was final, so I hope she's enjoyed cookin' and cleanin' after my youngins' all weekend, cause she's gonna be doin it a hell of a lot more now that she got herself fired."

Madeleine was a bank teller in the drive-thru at First Cordonia and also Leo's ex-fiancee.

"Madeleine got fired?" Alyssa asked in surprise. "She's been there for years."

The redhead swirled the sugar around in her tea with a spoon before licking it off and continuing, "Mmm-hmm. Bertrand caught her on video, stuffing her gaudy drawers into the vacuum tubes at the bank and sending them to that bastard when he drove through to make a deposit. He was making deposits alright. Right between her scrawny, cankled ass --"

"Olivia!" Liam quickly interjected, knowing once she got going, it would likely turn R-rated with several little ears listening. "I'm dying to hear how the Christmas Festival for next Saturday is coming along." He shot a look across the table at Drake for getting her worked up. Drake simply grinned.

By late afternoon, supper had been eaten, dishes cleaned, and pants unbuttoned. After a couple of hours of chatting on the back porch and watching the kids play, the two younger couples packed up leftovers Regina insisted they take home and were ready to hit the road.

Liam and Riley lived next door and walked out with the Walkers who were making their way to the Tahoe parked on the street.

Alyssa bounced and cooed over baby Jacob before handing him back to Riley and getting into the vehicle's passenger seat.

Liam was leaning into the driver's side window, having a casual discussion with Drake about the opening day of deer season next Saturday and asking what time he wanted to head out.

Alyssa was half-listening and half-working the stereo when an idea popped into her head. "You know what would be fun?” Both men stopped talking and glanced over at her. “We should all go?”

Drake knit his brows. “Go where?

“Hunting. We can make it a double date. You and me, Riley and Liam. The great outdoors. Some quality time together. I’ll even make snacks for everyone. It’ll be fun,” her voice was chipper. She was excited about it.

She was also deadly serious.

So were the dubious looks Drake and Liam gave each other over the thought of taking their wives on the most important hunting event of their year. Not that either didn't enjoy spending time with their significant others, but hunting was a whole different world. It was a one-person sport where you spent the day away from reality and responsibilities and just enjoying the great outdoors —a place to be alone and experience the thrill of a good hunt.

“Guys, I’m serious. We go fishing together, and I’ve shot targets plenty of times. I really wanna go hunting with you. Riley wants to go too, don't you?” She cast an inquisitive glance out her window at Riley, who glared back with the biggest what-the-fuck look she'd ever made. “See, she wants to go too.”

“Baby,” Drake began softly, giving her knee light squeezes. “I don’t mind taking you, but this is opening day. We’ll be in the woods for hours, in the cold. It’s not really what someone would consider a ‘date.’ And we’re going to the Festival that night … we’ll get a chance to spend time together there.”

She held his gaze as her lips began to quiver. “I understand. You .. you need time to be away from me, and it was a dumb idea anyway --”

“No,” Drake cut in. His heart plummeted from the sadness in her voice and eyes. “That’s not it at all. I love spending time with you. And if you really want to do this, then … let’s do this.”

“Really? We can go together?” Drake nodded with a smile before she squealed in his ear and pulled him into a tight hug. “I can’t wait! Thank you!”

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Liam let out a heavy breath as he looked over at Riley -- The woman he knew would not be a fun hunting partner next week -- still standing on the sidewalk, appearing like she might faint. “Yeah ... I can’t wait either.”

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

Saturday. 5:15 a.m. The cellphone alarm on Drake’s bedside table let off a series of rhythmic beeping sounds and vibrations.

The alarm wasn’t needed. The man had been awake for hours, listening to his wife's gentle snores; the anticipation of bringing home at least a 12-pointer keeping him from falling back asleep.

Letting out a ferocious yawn and a hearty stretch, he picked up his phone to dismiss the alarm and rolled over to wake Alyssa.

With her ass perfectly curled into the space between his stomach and thighs, his hands settled on her curvy hip, jostling her slightly. “Time to get up, my little peach. We gotta get crackin’ before all the good deer are gone.”

“I just need one more hour, okay? Thanks,” she protested with a drowsy murmur, pulling the pillow over her head.

Drake chuckled, rubbing soothing circles over her back. “No. We have to get up now. We’re wasting time, sleepyhead. Unless … you don’t want to go.”

Alyssa’s heavy eyes stung as she tried to peel them open one at a time. “No, I wanna … go ...” she trailed. Her eyes slowly shut again, and she was out.

On a day like today, Drake was usually up and ready in ten minutes. Once he could finally get his wife out of bed, dressed, and back awake again from where she fell asleep on the toilet, it was close to 45 minutes.

Maxwell, who was also a childhood friend and the music teacher where Alyssa taught, rented the room over their garage. He agreed to come down that morning and watch the kids while the pair spent their morning in the woods. Bianca used to help out in that regard, but the kids complained she slept the whole time, and Alyssa was pretty sure her mother-in-law smoked pot around them.

Drake loaded up the truck, placing his rifle and a smaller .22 caliber for Alyssa behind the seat. Dragging herself slowly to the vehicle, the night sky still pitch black and her breath turning to thick vapors in the frigid air, she listlessly tossed a Taylor Swift tote bag on the floorboard and climbed in.

Drake looked at his phone after everything was packed up to see if Liam had sent a message about being late. It was unusual for him not to be there already. Typically, his best friend was up and at his house before Drake was even ready. He sent off a quick text to check.

Drake: Where you at, man?

Liam: Running late. Riley had to put makeup on and do her hair.

Liam: I’m having so much fun already 😑

Liam: snark

Drake: Lyss couldn’t decide which gloves looked the best with her orange vest. I guess she wants to impress the deer before she kills them.

Liam: We’re not catching deer today. We’ll be lucky if we catch a cold. Be there in 10.

Twenty minutes later, Liam’s gray Silverado pulled onto the Walker’s gravel drive. Riley had wanted biscuits and gravy from McDonald's, and she had to run back inside to pee, so that set them back. But, with everyone now there, they were finally ready to head out.

Just down the rural road from where Drake and Alyssa lived, the current sheriff of Cordonia, Bastien, owned several acres of unoccupied land that he used for recreation. He had been a close friend of Drake’s dad and agreed to let Drake and Liam hunt and fish on his property whenever they wanted.

Turning onto the dirt road and opening the gate, the four friends arrived at their spot just as dawn was breaking.

No one spoke much as they trekked through the mud, sticks, and brittle fall leaves that littered the path to the deer stands. Riley and Alyssa were too exhausted to say anything. Drake and Liam just weren’t used to talking at all.

"Riley, love,” Liam whispered softly. “Can you watch how you’re walking? The noise is going to scare the deer away.”

“I can’t help it if … " She reacted loudly in frustration before Liam placed a finger over his lips, and she resumed speaking more quietly. “I can’t help it if there're leaves everywhere. I’m walking on them as delicately as possible.”

“How much further? I think my toes are frozen and I need coffee.” Alyssa bemoaned while walking on the balls of her heels. Drake was basically dragging her sluggish body by the hand. Her eyes were still drooping from exhaustion with every careful step.

“Just over yonder of that fence row is our stand.” He pointed out.

Alyssa aimed her flashlight around the woods in several spots. "And where do we pee at?"

Liam lightly snorted as Drake answered matter-of-factly. "Just over yonder of that fence row below our stand."

"Oh ... " her tone was small and apprehensive, "... I guess that's ... okay." She glanced back timidly at Liam, who was following close behind.

He shielded his eyes from the beam of her flashlight in his face and frowned. "I'm not going to watch you pee, Alyssa."

Riley gasped, "Eww! I don't want Drake watching me pee either."

"Shhhhh." Liam was quick to remind her again of the volume of her voice.

"Stop, shushing me, Liam! Those deer don't know I'm out here."

Drake grunted, then whipped around to face the three of them. "Would you keep your voices down? No one's watching anybody take a piss," he whisper-yelled. "Lyssa and I will be at least a hundred yards away from ya'll. Riley, I promise you can piss your little heart out, and I won't see it."

"We're separating?" Alyssa asked wistfully. "What if I need to ask Riley something, and she can't hear me yelling across to her?"

"You'll just have to ask her when we're done, baby girl. And ... please don't yell questions to her while we're out here. Low voices."

They continued on with their noisy hike.

"Having so much fun," Liam grumbled to himself.

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

Liam and Riley headed to their tree stand as Drake helped Alyssa climb up the ladder to theirs.

The stand and ladder were made of plywood -- chipped and faded from years of exposure to the elements -- and were attached at the apex to an oak tree about twenty feet off the ground. At the top it had enough room to take a step onto, with a wooden seat just wide enough to accommodate them. One plank rail came out on both sides.

Alyssa plopped down onto the seat, clutching her tote bag of goodies on her lap. She lifted the brim of the orange beanie she borrowed from Drake -- that smelled of animal carcass and gun powder -- above her eyes and peered out to the wilderness spread monumentally below. She closed her eyes and slowly inhaled the fresh, dewy air, taking in the sounds of twittering birds, branches clashing from the nearby squirrel frolicking on them, and the rippling of a bubbling brook streaming down the hill.

A pleasant warmth overcame her as Drake's much larger body sat down next to her and protected her from the frosty wind blowing in from his side.

Alyssa wrapped her arms around his waist, snuggling into him. "I can see why you like this so much. It's so quiet and peaceful ... look how purty it is out here, Drake. It's just real purty, isn't it?"

Working diligently on getting their gear together, he stopped briefly to look out; affection glowed in his eyes. “It sure is, darlin’. Almost as purty as you ... and notice I said 'almost.'” He winked, and Alyssa blushed, feeling that same love trickling up inside her she'd had since they were teenagers. Drake could charm the pants off a chipmunk, but she was thankful he only used that gift on her.

"Sooo ... " She drawled in her thick Southern accent. "How long will it be before the deer start coming out?"

Drake drew the barrel of her gun back after loading it with shells and explained, "Don't know. It could be minutes. It could be a few hours. Just whenever they head this way, I reckon."

Perplexed, Alyssa nodded slowly. "A few hours? I s'pose that's okay. What do you do while you're waiting?"

He shrugged, passing a gun to her. "You just ... sit here."

"You just sit here and do what?"

Drake leaned over to kiss into her orange cap and replied, "Wait."

"Wait." She acknowledged. "I can do that. I'll just sit here ... and wait."

Several minutes had passed, and Alyssa was already bored with listening to nature, Drake's gurgling stomach, and sitting quietly with nothing to do. Every so often, a shotgun blast was heard in the distance, signifying either someone out there had gotten their prize or Riley had driven Liam insane. It was the only break from the monotony that came with the boredom of sitting in a tree for who knew how many hours.

Letting out a giant exhale that caught Drake's attention, she propped her rifle against the railing and pulled the cloth tote that was sitting between her boots into her lap. Rummaging through the bag, she pulled out her phone and began thumbing out a message.

Drake furrowed his brows and asked, "What're you doin'?"

"Just texting Riley,' she answered dismissively. He shook his head and leaned it back against the tree while she formulated her message.

Alyssa: You still alive over there? How's it going?

Riley: This is boring as shit.

Riley: And now my texting is apparently scaring away the deer. F the deer Liam. F all the damn deer!!!! What were you thinking, Lyss?

Alyssa: I was thinking we could spend quality time with our husbands. The men we love and cherish with all of our hearts. I’m having a great time with Drake so far 😍😘

Alyssa: And no one twisted your arm to come bitch.

Riley: Liam's just staring through binoculars. He hasn’t spoken in 20 minutes except to tell me to point the gun away from him or to quit moving. Let’s go get our hair did at Adelaide's.”

Alyssa: OHHH Yes! And get Chinese food ... CRAB RANGOONS!! I'll have Drake drive us back. Girls Day Out. Love you!

Drake let out a belch and blew it away when Alyssa turned to him with a dazzling smile and a sparkle in her blues. "Can you drive Riley and me back to the house?"

"What? Right now?" he shrieked. She answered him with a cheerful nod. "What happened to all that talk about wanting to spend quality time with me?"

"I still do. But ... we're just sitting here, not really doing anything. I could be getting my hair done for tonight's festival. I also have a ton of laundry to do, some papers to grade, and I’m supposed to be making the Devereaux’s famous peach cobbler for the raffle. If I leave now, I’ll have time to do all of it.” Alyssa knew she probably wouldn’t do half of that, and Audrey would likely make the cobbler, but it made the situation sound more urgent.

"It's opening day, baby. I'm not leaving this spot." He reached into the pocket of his overalls and pulled out his keys. "If you and Riley wanna take my truck, I'll ride back with Liam."

She gave him an exasperated look. "I don't know my way back to the truck. And I sure as hell know Riley doesn't."

He smirked, stuffing his keys back. "Then you're stuck."

The next hour was brutal. Alyssa texted Riley to alleviate the boredom for several minutes, but there had been no responses in a long while. She wasn't aware that Liam tossed her friend's phone over the hill when she started making TikTok videos of her plight -- Liam took his deer hunting seriously: No noise meant no noise.

Drake wasn't much better; he was quieter than his usual self. It wouldn't have been so bad if she could at least talk. An occasional whispered word was not going to cut it.

Alyssa sighed heavily. She wiggled around for comfort. She unwrapped a Nutty Bar. She crunched. She opened a can of pop. She tapped her fingers. She flipped the pages of a magazine. Each one got that look from Drake that let her know it was too loud. If she ever made it out of there, she planned to jabber and stir until she couldn't do it anymore.

After another half-hour of stewing quietly in her thoughts without a sign of a deer anywhere, Alyssa decided now was the time to finally just talk.

"Do you ever think about having another baby?" It was a topic that had been on her mind for a while. To her surprise, Drake didn't give her a look or even freak out the way she anticipated. Despite his own rule of silence, he even responded in kind.

"Yeah. Kind of a lot."

Her right brow darted up. "Really?"

Drake took a breath and shifted the gun across his lap. "I mean, of course. It's always been my dream to settle down and have a bunch of youngin's with the woman I love." He studied her lit-up face; he'd swore she'd gotten more beautiful with age. That's why he hesitated when he added, "But ... "

Her shoulders slumped at his words, and a deflated look impressed upon her face. "But ... " The word barely made it past her lips.

Drake reached for her hand and gripped it tightly. "Lyssa, we have so much going on right now. You're working on National Boards, Audrey has piano recitals and basketball, Patrick has peewee football and Boy Scouts. We barely have time -- except for right now -- for just ... us. I'm not saying,"never"... just that right now ... isn't a good time."

"I understand that, but ... we've always made it work. And don't you miss those tiny little fingers wrapped around yours? And the way they smell fresh out of the bath? And those chubby little cheeks pressed up against yours?" she goaded.

“Of course I do. I remember the first time I held Audrey and PJ in my arms -- there’s just no better feeling in the world than ...to look down ... " Drake paused as his voice cracked, and his brown eyes glistened like glass. " ... and to see someone so small ..." When she sniffled, it made it that much harder for him to speak. "... that you created with the woman you've loved since you were 16 years old. But I like who they are now, and watching them grow, and doing things with them ... And, well ... there’s no shit clean up.”

“You obviously haven’t washed Patrick's clothes in a while,” Alyssa retorted with a chuckle that brought out one in her husband.

"I’ll have to talk to him about that." He gazed deeper into her eyes. "But I do love you ... more than all the peaches in Georgia, Lyssa Claire.”

Alyssa smiled.“That’s what you said to me when you promised to marry me when we were teens.”

Drake returned his own smile. “I did. I remember like it was yesterday too. Sitting in your parent’s basement, watching Friends reruns, eating pizza, making out. And hell, it’s still as true today as it was then. Somehow, even more."

Their cold lips parted and joined halfway for a fervent kiss, with Drake's hand meandering around the subtle groove at the junction of her waist. Just as it became more intense and desirous, a rustling of twigs off in a nearby thicket caught Drake's ear, and he broke away, his eyes scoping the perimeter. Alyssa wasn't offended, she heard it too, and her heart raced with excitement.

Lifting the binoculars hanging from his neck, he spotted two deer eating from a blackberry patch some thirty yards away. He pointed in their direction; Alyssa gave a quick thumbs up, letting him know she saw them too.

Drake carefully lifted the rifle resting in his lap as Alyssa leaned forward and squinted to get a better visual. "Is that a buck and a doe?" she whispered, not moving an inch.

"Sure as fuck is." He mounted the stock of his .30 caliber, Winchester, just beneath his collarbone; the rush of this moment coursed ravenously through his body. He lined up the scope and placed a steady finger on the trigger -- his thumb pulling the hammer back.

“Wait.” Alyssa loudly whispered. “You can’t shoot him.”

"I'm gonna. Better cover your ears."

"No, Drake. There's a doe with him. What if that's his wife? You can't just leave her all alone without him."

"Lyss, this is the whole reason we're out here."

"So you can make a widow out of her?"

"No ... so I can make deer chili out of him."

Alyssa's mouth flew open. "No. No. RUUUUUUUUN! RUUUUUUN!"

Drake pulled his face away from the scope and fired her a look. "What the hell are you doing? They're getting away!"

She tilted her chin boldly. "I don't care. That was her husband, and they're in love, and you can't take that away from them. I would be so sad if we were just out eating berries and someone came up and shot you, ALL SO THEY COULD EAT DRAKE CHILI!".

Drake dropped his head. He knew there was no point in arguing with her. As long as he’d known her, she was stubborn, and at that moment, she was dead set in believing those two deer were living out the greatest romance of all time. Nothing he said or did would change her mind on that.

A thought emerged while he attempted to comprehend the logic of the situation. Those deer ran off in the direction where Liam was set up. Maybe if he could give his friend a heads up, it was still possible at least someone would leave those woods with the prized buck.

Turning his back from Alyssa so that she couldn't stop him, he pulled a small walkie-talkie from his pocket and radioed Liam. Alyssa knew what was up and jumped to her feet, thrusting her arms around him in an attempt to stop the travesty.

"You can't do this, Drake," she hollered, "That’s her soulmate. And why don't I have a walkie-talkie? I want a walkie-talkie!"

While seated next to Liam, Riley was swinging her legs, purposefully making the soles of her boots scrape against the platform. Liam tried to ignore her; maybe he had been a little too uptight about every little noise and utterance she made. But this was playing a whole different ballgame now: she was now making it her mission to piss him off.

Prepared to pound his head against the tree, Liam gritted his teeth, skimming his eyes in her direction. "Love, do you have to do that?"

"Did you have to throw my phone in the woods?" She spat back.

Liam rubbed his hand over his face. "No, and I am sorry that. I apologize for all of eternity. I promise I will get you another one as soon as we get back, okay?”

Riley huffed. "Fine, but that phone had all of my contacts on it. It had our babies' pictures and videos on it ... our vacation photos. I can't get those memories back ever, and I have to find it, and God only knows where it landed. It could be ..." She stopped rattling on when she caught sight of the distressed look Liam was giving her. Knitting her brows, Riley asked, "What?"

"Nothing ... just ... can you lower your voice a little? You're gonna scare the deer away,"

He regretted it as soon as it came out.

“LIAAAAM!”

He saw the steam gushing out of her ears. There was no time to answer the incoming call on his walkie-talkie from Drake.

Belting out a furious screech, Riley jumped up and tried to jerk the gun from his hands. There was no question she wouldn't shoot him, but she'd sure as hell shred his favorite gun apart piece-by-piece and toss them all the way to Portavira Lake on the other side of town.

Riley tugged with all of her might. "I have HAD IT with being quiet for those damn deer, Liam. HAD IT!"

"Sweetheart, you need to calm down ..." He stood up in front of her, pulling back on the rifle even harder, surprised -- and not pleasantly so -- his considerably smaller wife had this much struggle in her.

"Don't you sweetheart me. You have shushed me for the last time, Liam Preston Rys!"

“Okay, I’m sorry! But can you at least admit us fighting over a gun is dangerous? Somebody is going to get seriously hurt, and I don’t want it to be you, Riley. Please. I won’t shush you anymore, I promise.” His face softened, eventually adorning a loving smile at his wife, who, with a sigh, was unable to resist that handsome face and relaxed her grip.

Riley gave him a half-smile in return. “I’m sorry, too. I’ve ruined your hunting trip.”

“Yes ... you did.” Liam agreed, dodging the playful slap she nearly made to his upper arm. “But I don’t want to fight anymore.”

With the War of the Ryses finally over, they went in for a makeup kiss until Drake’s voice called out to Liam again through his walkie talkie. Liam set the gun down on the bench and leaned it against the tree before he started digging into his pocket to answer the device. Riley dropped down onto the seat, her elbow brushed against the rifle and caused it to slide away until the barrel end hit the railing and set off a powerful blast.

When the ringing in both of their ears subsided, and the smoke had cleared, Liam and Riley collected themselves from the sudden spine-gripping explosion that shook them both. While Riley explained to Liam what happened, a hysterical sounding Drake came back over the walkie-talkie, wailing, “Alyssa’s been shot! Alyssa’s been shot! Help me!”

__________________

Later that evening, in the courthouse square, the street was lit up with zig-zagged rows of red, green, and white lights. Strands of garland were wound around every lamppost in perfect spiraled loops, and red bows hung and waved with the wintry breeze.

With traffic rerouted away from the area, vendors lined sidewalks selling local goods to put the town's citizens in the festive spirit. What would this small town in Georgia have been without boiled peanuts, low country boil, fried green tomatoes, barbecue, and peach everything?

Once Constantine had lit the 30-foot spruce, surrounded by hundreds of merry people from all walks of life that made up this small community, the festival was officially kicked-off.

In a large tent set up on the square, Liam and Riley laid out styrofoam containers and drinks they’d purchased from a barbeque vendor on one of several picnic tables inside. With their two young daughters munching away on their meal, and the stroller with their sleeping son beside them, they both sat down with heavy hearts and restless minds.

Liam bit into his barbecue sandwich, noticing Riley only prodding at her mac-and-cheese while staring off into the distance. He didn’t have to ask what was wrong; he knew what happened that morning was bothering her with guilt and worry. It wasn’t every day she accidentally shot someone.

“Are you going to be okay?”

Riley shook her head slightly with a sad look. “No. It’s just not the same without Alyssa here. You know how much she loves Christmas and the festival. She was so looking forward to it too, until --”

“You shot her.”

“Yeeeeeesssss,” she cried out. Liam reached across the table and gave her hand a comforting squeeze, his thumb caressing her smooth skin. Riley continued to sniffle as she grabbed a handful of napkins and wiped the barbecue sauce off Liam’s sticky fingers that were now smeared all over hers. “I didn’t mean to, I swear it. And the way … and the way Drake cried. It broke my heart. Now he has her on bed rest AND house arrest. He won’t let her take calls. I’ll never see or hear from my bestie agaaaain.” The tears continued to flow in steady streams.

Liam stiffened, feeling the eyes of everyone in that tent, gawking at his overly-dramatic wife breaking down. He started to tell her to lower her voice, but after the gun battle in the woods, he thought better of it. “Riley, darlin’, you know Drake is really overprotective of Alyssa. And as scary as what happened was, she only needed the one stitch and band-aid for her graze wound. Something tells me Drake won’t be able to keep her down long.”

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

Liam was right. As much as Drake tried to keep her in bed so he could wait on her hand and foot, protect her from the careless friends of the world who could inadvertently do his baby girl harm, and check to see if she needed a new band-aid every few minutes, he could not keep her down. She had been far too excited to hang out with the people she loved so much and celebrate at one of her favorite festivals.

Maxwell had left for the events with Audrey and Patrick an hour ago; they were part of the children’s caroling group and needed to be there early. Against Drake’s wishes, Alyssa showered, got dressed, and made sure he knew in no uncertain terms would he be able to prevent her from going. The only thing he knew to do was to go, follow her around the entire night, and make sure she wouldn’t get shot again.

They circled the block where everything was held several times, but spaces to park were impossible to find. Three blocks away was the church where they attended, and the parking lot was completely empty. Drake didn’t like the fact that Alyssa would have to walk so far in her debilitated condition and was prepared to haul her piggyback style if he had to, but this was the best spot he could find.

Drake moved the gearshift into park and reached over to grab Alyssa’s arm, who was already bounding out the door. He pulled Alyssa back inside, the chilly air blowing through her open door swept her straighten hair this way and that way.

She cocked her head to the side and exhaled, “Drake, I can open my own door. I’m not broken. It’s just a scratch. I’m fine.”

“I know.” He smiled that tenderhearted smile only Alyssa had ever seen. The same one sending a shudder through her already chilled body. “I changed my mind,” he replied simply

Alyssa slammed her eyes shut and groaned. “I just told you I was fine --”

“No, no,” He shook his head. “About having another baby. I want to start trying.”

Saddled with curiosity, she slid back into the truck and shut the door. “But, I thought you said we didn’t have time for that --”

“Yeah, I did say that. I still believe it. But … today made me realize that yesterday is gone. Tomorrow has not yet come. We have only today …”

Alyssa’s hand flew to her mouth as she laughed out loud. Drake gave her a confused look before chuckling awkwardly to himself, “What’s so funny?”

She lowered her hand, still laughing. “You got that saying from a quote on a poster in my classroom. You’re the one who hung it up for me.”

The memory dawned on him, and he lowered his head, attempting to cover the guilty grin that spread over it. “Well, hell. Here I was trying to make you think I was all insightful and smart and stuff.”

Alyssa’s hand splayed across his rugged chest as she leaned over to kiss him.“You are very insightful and smart. You know I never settle for anything less than the best.”

“I s’pose.” he said, forking his fingers through his hair. “But … I guess what I wanted to say was … I know that bullet missed you, barely … but what if it hadn’t? What if I’d left those woods without you today? Just like you were afraid that doe might. Time wouldn’t matter anymore. There will NEVER be enough time with you. You’re my life, Alyssa Claire. You’re my lover, my friend, my heart, my confidante, my soul, my everything … my little peach. I want to experience all that life has given me with you as my wife … and forever make time with you.”

“DRAAAKEY!” she bawled, spreading her tiny arms wide around his bulky body. Alyssa drew him into her so hard it nearly crushed the wind right out of his lungs. “I -- love -- you -- so muuuch!” Drake patted her back and kissed into her hair as she sniveled into his shirt. He hated when she cried, but damn if this didn’t feel good to him. Anytime she was happy made him that way too.

They took a moment to kiss and pet each other a little before Alyssa sat up and asked, “So … when do you want to start trying for a new baby Walker?”

He shrugged. “Whenever you want, baby.”

Alyssa looked through the back window of the truck and scanned the parking lot. She bit her lip and looked back at him impishly. “What about … now?”

Drake’s eyes flew open wide. “In the church parking lot?”

Pursing her lips, she affirmed, “Yes. We’ve done it behind the Piggly Wiggly plenty of times. And let's not forget the ‘Great Ass Blow-out of 2019’ in the Atlanta Convention Center parking garage.”

“I will never forget that.” Drake shook his head as that momentous sexual experience replayed in his mind. “Mmmm, you performed magic that day, woman.”

She raised a brow and coaxed him on, “So? What’dya say?”

Drake took a tentative look around at the dark, empty lot, then back at her. “We’re so going to hell, but I’m in.”

“Eeeeeee,” she squealed, jerking his arm around in excitement. “Try to keep your ass out of the window this time, okay?”

Thirty minutes later, Pastor Hakim pulled into the church parking lot with Mara, the game warden, following behind in her truck. There had been several reports from passerby’s of loud animals howling and screeching behind the church. The stray cat population was out of control in that area, and several cats had burrowed their way inside the church on occasion.

Hakim parked his car, with Mara pulling in beside him. They both got out simultaneously and listened quietly to see if they could decipher where the commotion was coming from.

Within seconds, a load moan roared out, followed by several consecutive whimpers that were hard to make out by the duo.

Mara listened intently, then gestured with her flashlight to an area near the back of the lot where clusters of shrubs and dry brush bordered. Hakim ambled behind her, the noise getting closer and closer until the pastor's brow furrowed at the shaking of a nearby truck.

“Damn, teenagers,” he grumbled as they tipped toed discreetly.

Mara crouched down by the truck's tailgate, Hakim bending over while she duck-walked toward the driver's side door.

The game warden turned to the pastor and instructed, “On my three. 1 -- 2 -- 3.” They both jumped up at the same time, flashing the light inside the cab. “HAHA Caught ya! OH MY GOD!”

Alyssa, who was on top of Drake, completely naked except for the band-aid on her left arm, looked up in utter humiliation and shock. She crossed her arms over her chest to cover her breast, feeling like she might faint. Not knowing what to say at that moment to rectify their actions or why those two were still staring inside the truck, Alyssa smiled sheepishly. “I’m still feeling the spirit, Hakim.”

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

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#drake x alyssa #Liam x Riley #gun usage #hunting

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teamhook · 4 years ago

Photo

FFN

AO3

Hello all! This story was written for the lovely amazing @searchingwardrobes today is her birthday. Happy Birthday!! woohoo I had to do this because she has gifted a lot of us with an amazing birthday story. Love you sweetheart!!

Story beta-ed by @ultraluckycatnd

Killian walks inside Granny's and goes straight to the counter. He sits down and orders coffee, black no sugar, his attention turning to the door. He has no idea who he is looking for. The older woman hands the coffee cup to him. "Ma'am, I was wondering if you could be of assistance. I'm looking for Emma."

The older woman narrows her eyes. "Emma Nolan?"

Killian smiles. "Is that her surname?"

"What do you want with Emma?" Granny crosses her arms.

Killian scoffs defensively. "Nothing nefarious, I just want to clear up a misunderstanding."

The woman, Granny, nods and walks away to the back.

Killian purses his lips at the lack of answer and takes a drink of his coffee. He starts looking around the diner. He wonders if his mum sat on the same chair he is currently occupying. He chuckles to himself.

"What's so funny, man?" A voice to his right startles him.

Killian turns his attention to the voice and tilts his head. "Hello, mate. Killian Jones, at your service." He extends his hand.

The younger man extends his hand hesitantly. "Nice to meet you, man. Leo Nolan."

Killian smiles. "Leo Nolan, any relation to Emma Nolan?"

"What kind of trouble has my sister gotten into this time?" Leo asks and mutters under his breath, "Not that I'd mind after meeting you."

"No trouble, just a bit of misunderstanding. To be honest it's not a big deal. My brother has no sense of humor. That's the real problem," Killian insists.

"That doesn't answer the question."

"Alright, she sent a compromising letter. At least in my brother's opinion. A letter without an addressed name attached that my brother immediately assumed belonged to me. So here I am to put an "end" to it."

Leo looks down. "I'm sorry, I'm sure she didn't mean to cause any trouble."

Killian sighs. "In a way I'm thankful. See, my mother was from here but we never got to see her beginnings. It's a bit of a treat to know that my mother walked the same corridors at Our Lady of the Lake College."

Leo mutters something about a Legacy. "My mother went to the same place as does my troublemaker sister."

"To be honest, I'm here more out of curiosity. I was tempted to spend the week in New York and then fly back home and tell my brother the issue was resolved but I remembered Mum was from here so here I am. Trying to get to know my mother better and find your elusive sister. I was told she would be here."

"She was here; she left right before you got here," Leo says, shrugging.

"Ah, could you perhaps arrange a meeting? Inform her she's not in trouble?" Killian asks with a twinkle in his eye.

"I shall talk to her. Are you staying here?"

"Aye, I am."

"If my sister can get over her embarrassment when I tell her why you are here and wants to meet you, I'll leave a message for you with Granny."

"I accept, lad. It was nice meeting you. I'm still a little jet-lagged, so if you'll excuse me. Goodnight," Killian says as he turned to go inside the Inn.

A stern voice makes Leo jump. "What are you playing at Emma?"

Emma winced.

Killian walks inside his room and snorts a laugh. His instincts tell him that he needs to see this through. Whatever it was that brought him to town was important and he knows that it will change his life. He still didn't know if it was about his mother or something else. What he did know was that the lad was a part of it.

Granny had that look on her face. The one they all feared.

Emma sighs. "Granny, it's nothing bad. I was just trying to figure out if he was here to cause trouble or not."

"Emma, the only trouble maker I see is you. Do you mind enlightening me about why you told him you were Leo Nolan, your brother? If memory serves me, there are only three Nolan children: James, David, and you. There's no Leo. Think carefully about what you're about to say to me."

"Granny, okay." Emma taps the top of the counter. "Some days back, I might have sent a letter with my name and it seems his older brother has no sense of humor. And you know that because you heard it with your wolf-like hearing." She shrugs. "It was a mistake and well, he flew out here and Granny, he is kinda hot and I didn't think I just reacted. I mean, we wanted to make sure my dressing like a guy would work for the production at school. It just happened. The words didn't want to come out of me. Hey sorry about causing you so much trouble with that letter. I was daydreaming and by the way, you have the prettiest eyes I've ever seen."

Granny smirks. "Isn't this interesting. Emma Nolan speechless around a handsome man."

Emma rolls her eyes. "Don't worry, I will come clean. Eventually."

"Well, you don't have that much time. He only booked the room for a week." Granny grabs some dirty dishes and walks into the kitchen.

Emma sighs. She should go upstairs and confess. It was a mistake and he was nice enough. Okay, she will apologize to him, but as herself, not as her brother.

Killian stands at his room's window looking out at the view. He likes the town. His phone rings until it goes to voicemail. He doesn't feel like reporting to Liam just yet. What was he going to say, sorry brother but the lovely Emma has eluded me so far? The phone begins to ring again. Killian rolls his eyes. It appears Liam will not be giving up until he talks to him. Killian looks at his phone's screen. Bloody hell. It was Milah. He winces and just answers. "Milah, love-" Before he could continue, he was interrupted.

"Killian, what the hell are you doing in Maine? You're supposed to be here helping me plan the wedding and you didn't even tell me you were leaving the country!" Milah complains.

"Love, it was a sudden trip." Killian tries to calm her.

Milah stays quiet. "Killian, you said that you would take me with you on your next trip."

"Milah, darling. This trip is partly business but it is also to the town my mother was from. I didn't think you would like to accompany me to a small town in America." Killian tries to appease her. She could be volatile if she didn't like the answer.

She sighs. "When are you coming back?"

He can hear the pout in her voice. "I shall return in a week or so."

They end their call with a half-hearted 'I love you'.

Emma goes home and changes from her Leo persona's clothes. She really tries not to think too much about the reason why she put on her favorite dark jeans, the ones that made her butt look great, a thin red sweater that made her feel sexy, and black knee-high boots.

Emma walks into the Inn and squares her shoulders. She walks to the check-in desk and walks around to get the guy's room number. She finds the ledger and looks for the name he gave Leo. Killian Jones. Room 204. She smiles; it's the one with a view. She looks at the reception phone and opts to just go upstairs to get it over with. She didn't feel like been scolded by Granny again.

She knocks on the door lightly and looks around the hall. A few minutes pass with no answer. He had said he would stick around for a few days. She looks at her watch for the time. It was still early.

Maybe this is a sign that she is crazy and she decides to leave. Emma sneaks out as easily as she snuck inside.

The disappointment she feels is a lot. She wants to meet him, be herself, and the thoughts that swirl in her mind are not her own. She has obviously been around MM too much for goodness sake. She used the name that MM had told her she would use for her first son with David.

Killian had left to go sightseeing for a while. The truth was he was feeling cooped up in the tiny room while waiting for Emma Nolan to make her appearance. He was making his way back to the Inn when a flash of golden hair caught his attention. He pauses for a second as he takes her in. Bloody hell, he really shouldn't be noticing other women, but he couldn't help fall victim to the enchantment the woman had clearly placed upon him. He followed her from a distance, and she was oblivious to his presence.

He grins as he notices how freely she gave genuine smiles to the town's people that happily greeted her. He was still too far away to listen to how they addressed her, but he was truly entranced by her.

His thoughts race to Milah; she was a beautiful woman for sure, but she was not exactly a people person. She could be cold and unwilling to grant a simple smile unless she was forced. His brother didn't understand the relationship, but had encouraged him to finally give up his bachelor ways. Killian had enjoyed his life as a single man thoroughly and would not miss out on anything except for one thing; true love. He was ready to accept that perhaps that wasn't in the cards for him. He could settle for the relationship he shared with Milah. She was a good match; she was from a good family, and a union between them could solidify the business. People married for less.

The next day, Emma goes to school and she is pulled aside by Silv.

"Emma, you had a visitor yesterday," Silv informs her.

"Uhm, I did? I don't remember seeing anyone." Emma quirks a brow.

"No, no there was a man looking for you, but you know Miss Blue and her rules. She sent him away and he was unhappy. He even mentioned stopping the donations in the name of his mother, Alice Rogers-Jones. That caused Miss Blue to be upset all day. I don't know if we can fix it, but the money we receive from her estate is the most generous one." Silv worries her bottom lip.

"Oh, so maybe I shouldn't go to class today. I know how Miss Blue gets. She is going to make my day miserable, isn't she?" Emma sighs.

"I don't know, but chances are high. Oh, and Emma, Alice Rogers was close friends with your mother. Maybe you can find a way to use that to get Mr. Jones to reconsider stopping donations. He seemed to be reconnecting with his dead mother since he's been in town," Silv suggests.

Emma pinches the bridge of her nose. "Alright, I will see what I can do. I guess I better go." Emma smiles at Silv and leaves campus.

Emma enters Granny's as Ruby is about to leave. "Hey Ems, have you seen that hottie staying here?" Ruby winks.

Emma sighs. "Is Mr. Hottie here?"

Ruby thinks for a moment. "Nope, I saw him leaving to go for a run. At least that's what it looked like from what he was wearing. That's when I noticed him. I had heard the girls talking about him. Mr. dark-hair, sexy accent, and eyes to die for, but how do you know him?"

"I don't know him, Ruby."

"You just asked if he was here and you should be on campus already. Shit, I'm going to be late," Ruby whines.

"Damn it, I guess I can try later. I wanted to avoid Miss Blue. Come on, let's go." Emma puts her arm around Ruby.

On the drive, Emma explains what had happened. She leaves out some details because Ruby couldn't stop laughing at her.

Emma's day is filled with dread waiting for Miss Blue to call her to her office and lecture her, but it never happens. Astrid explains she was not feeling well. Small miracles.

Killian is about to cross the street to Granny's when he sees the blonde from the other day leaving the diner with Granny's granddaughter. He winces, he had heard the old lady yell at her a couple of times already. He tries to hurry to get a better look at the blonde, there is something familiar. Maybe it's the way she carries herself. He scratches behind his ear. The thought is preposterous; he has not even met her, but yet... Bloody hell, he feels like such a wanker. He's acting like a creep. His eyes linger on her without his permission.

He enters the Diner and sits down in a booth near the door. His eyes gaze out the window.

"Hello, I'm Ashley and I will be your waitress today," Ashley introduces herself.

Killian smiles. "Hello, I'll just have some scrambled eggs, toast, and a banana if you have it. Orange juice and a glass of water as well."

She smiles and walks away.

Killian finishes his breakfast and goes up the stairs to his room to shower. He's about to finish getting ready when his phone rings. Killian grimaces when he sees the caller ID with a photo of his brother pop up. "Hello brother. How may I help you today?"

"Killian, I need you to come back home, now! Your betrothed has been harassing me nonstop. Please brother for all that is holy, come home and make her stop. She calls me constantly to complain, and it's always the same question. 'Why did I send you away on business?'" Liam sighs. "Why did you tell her it was a business matter?"

Killian laughs. "I'm sorry Liam, was I supposed to tell her I left town because a letter that wasn't addressed to any one caused my older brother to have a hissy fit? That you sent me away to fix it? You're a big boy, deal with it."

"Kill-" That's all Liam manages to say.

Killian smiles big as he disconnected the call. He looks out the window. Should he go to the marina? He finishes getting dressed and grabs his wallet, opting to leave his phone in the room. He doesn't want to deal with Liam.

Emma is supposed to meet the girls to practice at MM's house, but she has been nervous all day so she figures she should apologize to Jones first. She's in front of room 204 once again, takes a deep breath, and knocks. She waits, no answer. She shakes her head. Maybe he went to eat or take a walk. What else can he be doing in town? She waits one second just to be safe but no answer.

Another lost opportunity and her time to come clean was coming to an end soon.

Emma rushes out to meet the girls for practice. They had decided to practice at Mary Margaret's house since they wanted to surprise Miss Blue. Emma arrives just in time to change to Leo and start.

Killian finds Blanchard Farmers Market not far from the fish market by the harbor. The smell of the sea had called him to the pier and he inevitably became hungry from walking all day. He was pleased they served fish and chips like back home. He enjoyed his meal and left, eventually finding the Blanchard Farmers Market. The fruit and vegetables look delicious. He opts for some crisp apples and sweet oranges to keep in his room at the Inn. He wonders if he will ever see his friend "Leo" again, or if said friend had passed on his message; he hadn't received any indication the elusive Emma had contacted him. With a shrug, he heads back to the Inn before he goes looking for his friend. He wonders if he can ask Granny for the address or the phone number of the Nolans, but decides to find someone else for the information and use her as a last resort.

He had tried using his cellphone internet, but the town is as if it is trapped in the nineteen eighties for the most part. Killian approaches a rotund man at Granny's. "Excuse me, Sir?" Killian asks with a smile.

The man looks back at Killian with a scowl. "What is it? Can't you see I'm enjoying my food?" the man all but growls.

Killian mutters under his breath, So much for small-town hospitality. "I'm sorry to bother you. Could you direct me to the Nolans' home?

The man laughs. "Did Emma get a hold of you?"

He sighs. "Look, we all love her, but she makes idiots of the men she gets involved with." He shakes his head.

Killian quirks a brow. "No, actually I made acquaintance with her brother. We didn't exchange information, unfortunately."

"Hmm, all right." The grumpy man knows how friendly one of the Nolan twins is, so he takes out a small notepad from his shirt's pocket and scribbles on it, handing the paper to him.

Killian takes the paper and smiles. "Thanks, mate."

"The name is Leroy," he grumbles.

"Ah, to show my appreciation for your kindness, how about I pay for your meal?" Killian asks.

"Thank you. I appreciate it," Leroy says begrudgingly as he begins eating again.

Killian arrives at the address quickly. He notices a group of men arguing outside the house. He approaches slowly and tries to go unnoticed until he hears the subject of their conversation.

Jefferson says, "She's an artist, why would she want to be with anyone who would suffocate her creative side?"

August chimes in with, "I've known her the longest, what better partner than a friend?"

Graham scoffs. "Emma needs someone who will show her adventure and is experienced."

Killian can't help but scratch behind his ear as he makes his way to the front door to knock.

"Excuse me," one of the men says from behind him.

Killian clears his throat as he turned to face the group of admirers.

"Are you here to see Emma?" the man with a slight accent asks.

Killian shakes his head. "No, I'm looking for her brother."

The group nods and the relief on their faces is evident.

"He's not here," the man says. "I'm Sheriff Humbert. Is there anything I can help you with?"

Killian shakes his head in disappointment. "No, thank you."

"Wait!" one of the other men shouts. "Please, help us settle a disagreement. See, we all think Emma should choose us to be with. I was wondering if an unbiased opinion would help clear this up for us."

Killian looks at the Sheriff. He is about his age, with the other two men being younger. "I'm sorry, but shouldn't it be her decision? I don't know the lass in question personally, but it should be her choice. When you know, you know," he says as he walks away, not wanting anything further to do with their argument.

The three men, not satisfied with his answer, begin bickering again almost immediately.

@rumdrum91 @itsfabianadocarmo @xsajx @hookedonapirate @kmomof4 @seriouslyhooked @profdanglaisstuff @let-it-raines @revanmeetra87 @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @kymbersmith-90 @branlovestowrite @thejollyroger-writer @shireness-says @ilovemesomekillianjones @thisonesatellite @thesschesthair @winterbythesea @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke @superchocovian @lfh1226-linda @artistic-writer @thislassishooked @shardminds @winterbaby89 @xhookswenchx @ultraluckycatnd @gingerchangeling @laschatzi @wellhellotragic @xemmaloveskillianx @courtorderedcake @pirateherokillian @optomisticgirl @darkcolinodonorgasm @sherlockianwhovian @andiirivera @djlbg @jennjenn615 @scientificapricot @officerrogers @imlaxdris71 @therealstartraveller776 @kday426 @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 @donteattheappleshook @spacekrulesbians @lassluna @carpedzem @captainodonoghue @killian-will-do @jarienn972 @tehgreeneyes @demisexualemmaswan @queen-serena88 @swanslieutenant @tiganasummertree @whimsicallyenchantedrose @bethacaciakay @ohmakemeahercules @jrob64 @klynn-stormz @mariakov81

#Captain Swan #cs birthday fic #cs ff #searchingwardrobes

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cilldaracailin · 4 years ago

Text

These Are The Days Of Our Lives

Hello my Tumblr Lovelys!

It is Thursday! Woohoo, only one more day till the weekend! Though I have been feeling like it is Friday today...

Anywhoo, here is the next part for you. Thank you again for all the love and comments and reads. :)

Suze xx

“…I'm so thankful for friendship. It beautifies life so much.”

When Taron woke, a long groan left his lips and he fully stretched, his body creaking as his arms reached over his head. He felt warm and cosy as he lay on his back and as he slowly opened his eyes, it was completely dark around him. Turning his head, his cheek met the softness of the grey teddy bear fleece Robyn had given him and the last place he remembered leaving his throw was on his couch.

He rolled over onto his side but instead of rolling onto more of his couch, he ended up on the ground with a huff and moan, completely tangled in the throw. As he kicked his legs, he struggled a little to get himself free and used his hands to help pull the throw from himself. Finally free, his rubbed his eyes and stretched his arms up, cursing as his left hand smacked the coffee table.

“Fucking hell.” He cried rubbing his hand feeling it throb.

His eyes still hadn’t adjusted to the dark and he blinked a few times and with his right hand reached out very carefully and slowly feeling for the couch. Once he was sure he had a good idea of where the couch was and would avoid the coffee table, he pulled himself up from the floor and eased himself onto the couch, still a bit wary that he was on the edge but feeling the soft back of the couch against his shoulders, he leaned all the way in and sighed. Another long yawn filled his whole body and rubbing his eyes once more, he could finally start to make out his living room in the dark. Sitting for a few more seconds, letting his eyes fully adjust to the dark, he then got to his feet and cautiously made his way towards his door and the light switch, his eyes blinking at the invasion of sudden bright light.

It took him a few seconds to get used to the brightness and when he was able to fully open his eyes, he looked around his living room, a little surprised. It was spotlessly clean. The take-out boxes had been cleared away as well as the glass bottles and the top of the coffee table had been wiped down and cleaned.

“Robyn…” Taron’s voice was quiet and he wandered sleepily into his kitchen, now not surprised to see it was clean and tidy too. Any plates or cutlery they had used were washed and drip drying on the sink sideboard. He opened the fridge and the birthday cake which had caused him such stress earlier was wrapped in some tinfoil and the left overtake out was also wrapped but in cling film on plates stored on an empty shelf in his fridge. Closing the white door, Taron moved to lean on the island, his hand running down his tired face. He checked his watch and had to double check when he saw it was near three in the morning.

“I’ve been asleep that long?” He pondered out loud to himself, one more yawn moving through his whole body.

He moved back to the couch and routed around for his phone and found it eventually on the coffee table. He tapped into his received calls from face time and saw one was taken from his mam earlier on in the evening around eight. A little sad he had missed his mam; he knew Robyn had answered the call and started to wonder what the two women could have spoken about together. Standing up and picking up his throw, he draped it around his shoulders, feeling a little cold now as he wandered around his flat in the night time. Pocketing his phone, he wandered back to his door so he could turn off the main light and pulling his phone out again, he flicked on the torch and used it to make his way safely to his bedroom.

The door was open but the light was off and keeping his light away from directly shining on the bed, Taron flashed the torch on his phone up and over the wooden head board, the beam of light shining down and there asleep on the bed, curled up on her right side, in her favourite sleeping position was Robyn, wearing the new pyjamas he had gotten her for her birthday. The pyjama top had ridden up her body and although he had seen a lot of her bare back the last time they had seen each other, the lower part of her back was new to him and he smiled as even in the low light of his bed room from his phone, he could see the faintest mark of a tan line on her skin as her pyjama bottoms sat very low as she lay curled in a ball. He pulled the throw tighter around his body as a deep shiver filled him. He wished she liked massages because his hands were itching to find an excuse to feel how soft her skin was and deep down knew he was out of luck of ever getting to run his fingers over such a beautiful intimate spot on her body.

“Jesus Taron.” He quietly cursed, feeling the wonderful heat rising in his body. “Just a pair of bloody pyjamas.” He scolded himself. “She is your best friend.” He sighed a little. “Your beautiful best friend who you are head over heels in love with.” Taking a step closer to his bed, he very carefully placed a shaky left hand on her side, somewhere his hand had been before and as light as he could, moved his hand down to new territory and let his thumb stroke over her bare hip. As he thought, her skin was wonderfully silky under his thumb and so pleasingly warm. He let his index finger trail over the faint tan line lingering on her skin and then over the waist band of the pyjama’s he had bought her and he half smiled. “Knew you would wear them.” He whispered with a light chuckle. Sneaking his hand up her side and under the cotton top, his thumb traced over her ribs very lightly. She moved a little in her sleep, a long deep sigh leaving her lips and Taron’s hand stalled on her body. He half grinned to himself and took his hand from her skin, his hand running down his face as he composed himself. “Perfect.” He whispered hoarsely.

It looked like she had started out covered with his duvet but kicked it off during her sleep and it was crumbled near the end of the bed, nothing covering her body at all but after feeling how heated her skin was, he wasn’t surprised. The weather in London had become warmer as the country entered its Summer months and his home didn’t have the nice air con that Robyn’s had and he had been sleeping in his boxers under his duvet but being stubborn, Robyn hadn’t listened to him when he told her the pyjamas would be too warm to sleep in that night and now she lay asleep in a warm cotton pyjama’s instead of her normal sleeping attire of shorts and a t-shirt.

“Knew they would be too warm Robyn.” He chuckled

Robyn was snuggled on her side of the bed and deciding he needed to stop trying to touch her and stare at her before he went too far or have to leave the bedroom and go back to the couch, Taron walked around to his side and grinned as he saw the Care Bear horse he had bought her in her arms, Robyn cuddling it against her chest. It was such a sweet picture and while he still had his phone in his hands, Taron opened his camera and took a photo. She had done it to him before when he was sleeping and he was very happy to have his own picture of her sleeping to keep.

Her face was nuzzled deep into the bottom of one of the pillows, her head nearly flat on the bed. He was so glad that she had made herself comfortable in his room, especially when he had fallen asleep on the couch. He kicked his shoes off and dropped the throw to the floor so he could pull his socks off too. He knew he wouldn’t need the throw as he slept in his bedroom, especially with another person on his bed and thinking twice before he actually lay down, he pulled his t-shirt off too. Being careful not to jostle the bed too much, Taron eased himself onto the mattress, not worrying about pulling the duvet up. He was already feeling a little over heated and the cool sheets felt pleasant on his body. He turned off the light on his phone and quietly placed it on his bed side locker and then turning onto his left side facing Robyn, he closed his eyes as his head settled onto his pillow. With his left hand tucked between his knees, his right on the pillow in front of his face, he curled his knees a little closer to his chest and knew it wouldn’t be long before he fell asleep. Opening his right eye, he took one more glance as Robyn’s sleeping form and burrowing his head a little deeper into his pillows, closed his eyes, letting his body rest, sleeping deeply after a hard week of work.

When he woke, he knew immediately that he wasn’t alone in his bed and was still on his side, in the same position he fell asleep in. Waking up in the same way that he fell asleep in meant that he had a good night’s sleep, that was free from tossing and turning or his mind over working and thinking his day of work through. He stayed as he was, his eyes closed, letting his body wake up naturally, enjoying the fact that it wasn’t an alarm rousing him from his sleep. He buried his face into his pillow, stretching his legs and his back out before pulling himself into a tucked position.

“Morning.”

He smiled as he heard Robyn’s voice and opened his eyes to see her sitting up, still in her pyjamas, her hair in her perfected messy bun. “Mornin’.” He mumbled back to her, closing his eyes again.

“Made your way to your bed eventually last night?” She chuckled.

“Guess I was tired.”

“Guess so.” An hour after Robyn had ended the call with Taron’s family, he still slept deeply on her shoulder. With a bit of moving, being so very careful not to wake him, Robyn got him laying on her lap and after another hour, he was still asleep. She shifted her body from under his and placed the throw over his body and a little under his head to make sure he was comfortable and then did a quick clean up of his apartment and headed to his bed for her own sleep. “You were out for the count on the couch.”

“I didn’t think I was that tired.” He said opening his eyes. “And you put your pyjamas on.” He said reaching over to pull at the soft cotton material.

Robyn smiled back at him. “I couldn’t wait to wear them.”

“Were you too warm?” Taron asked, knowing well what her answer was going to be.

“Of course.” She laughed. “You were right but I had to wear them. They are really comfortable. Sorry I left you on the couch sleeping but I didn’t want to wake you.”

Taron shook his head. “Don’t be sorry at all. I am glad you did and that you just went to bed yourself.” He stretched again. “Thank you for cleaning up my flat.”

“No worries.” Robyn watched as Taron snuggled his face back into his pillow. “You weren’t cold last night?” She watched as his bare back muscles moved as he shifted on the bed.

“Nope. Nice and warm.”

“You could have pulled the duvet back up.”

“I didn’t need it. I don’t have your air con and my room gets hot in the Summer months. I was asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.” He opened one eye to look at her. “So, what did you and my mother talk about last night?”

Robyn grinned. “You missed a good chat.” She laughed a little as he lifted his head from the pillow. “You missed nothing at all. A simple happy birthday was exchanged, Mari guilt tripping me to go to her birthday. The old ‘you came to Taron’s birthday and are in London with Taron for your birthday’ came out.” She saw him frown. “Tina was on it, don’t worry and I told Mari I would do my best.”

“And how much of the conversation was about me?” He asked, laying his head back down.

“Not much at all. Really Taron.” She assured him. “Tina asked where you were so I had to move your cute little sleeping face onto the screen.”

Taron groaned into the pillow. “Oh Robyn, you didn’t!”

“I had to. She asked where you were.”

“Oh, she is going to lecture me now.”

Robyn moved closer on the bed to him and reached for his right hand which was in front of his face, her thumbs running over the back of it. “She was a little concerned that you were asleep but I have a feeling she knows your script is testing and I explained that you had just eaten and had some beers. She wants you to call her over the weekend. I also tried to get the secret plans from her but she was giving me nothing.”

Although he didn’t want to, he smiled. “I will call her.” Closing his eyes again, he tucked himself up into a smaller ball on the bed. “What time is it?”

“Just after eleven.”

“Eleven!” Taron jumped up to his knees. “Eleven!” He exclaimed again. “Breakfast!” He said. “I wanted to get up early to make you breakfast.” His face turned sad. “I had waffles. Aww shit.”

“Taron…” The softness of her voice and her hands on her face, made him lift his head to look at her.

“Yeah I know.” He said his eyes avoiding hers. “Just wanted to bring you breakfast in bed.”

“You needed the rest and we still have tomorrow morning.” Brushing his cheeks with her thumbs, he finally looked to her. “You slept the night through and didn’t move once except to get into your bed so it was obvious that your body needed the sleep and needed it more than breakfast.” He nodded under her hands. “And don’t you feel the better for it?”

“Yeah I suppose.”

“And you know another thing I like to do is watch you sleep.” She smiled at him, taking her hands from his face, Taron kneeling back on his heels.

“How many pictures did you take to bribe me with?”

“None.” She assured him. “I can bribe you with head massages.” She sat back on the bed. “So Mr Egerton, what have you planned for today then?”

“Well I had planned breakfast but seeing as how I have slept through that, I guess we both need to get ready to head to this afternoon’s activity and I hate to say it but we have about an hour to get ready. I didn’t mean to sleep so long. I wish I had of told you to wake me yesterday if I fell asleep.”

“Taron!” Robyn laughed. “An hour? I know I don’t take long but talk about a rush.”

He smiled at her. “I have two bathrooms, remember.”

“And you know I can’t wake you when you are sleeping.”

“Yeah I know.” He carefully got off the bed, stretching his whole body awake.

As he stretched, Robyn felt her heart race. He had lost of lot of his muscle since Kingsman finished filming but he was still defined and the softness to his sides and stomach was so attractive to Robyn and she couldn’t help but look at his perfect physic as he woke himself fully up. His jeans sat very low on his hips and that little look she got yesterday was on full show now and Robyn was telling her body to relax. She had seen Taron without his shirt on so many times, had her hands on his chest saving his life and massaging his skin, her fingers trailing through the gorgeously soft hair on his chest but watching him from afar, being sneaky with her glances rose that all too familiar heat in her body she felt when she was around Taron lately.

“So would you like to take the en suite or the bathroom?” He asked her, his voice breaking her slightly sinful thoughts.

“Bathroom is fine for me. I haven’t unpacked and all your things are in your bathroom.”

“Sure.”

“Taron we really only have an hour?” She asked him.

“Sorry chicken. My timing was really bad. Anthony is coming to get us at twelve.”

“Don’t worry. I will be ready.”

She hopped off the bed and grabbed everything she needed from her case, her hands full as she made her way out of the bedroom and into his bathroom, closing and locking the door behind her. Taking some shaky breathes, Robyn closed her eyes and only saw imagines of Taron stretching behind them. “Fucking hell.” She cursed to herself, her right hand pulling her bobbin from her hair with a tug. “Does he have to be just so lovely.” She sighed as she moved to the shower to turn the water on. “So bloody lovely and sweet and gorgeous and kind and ughhh.” Her hands went to her face as she exhaled loudly, her hands shaking as she took them down and started to open the buttons on her pyjama top.

The shower water was refreshing, once she had turned the temperature down a notch or two and after thoroughly washing her hair with her favourite scented shampoo and conditioner and did everything else required for her morning shower, she dried off and used her favourite body moisturiser on her skin. A few spritz of heat defence for her hair, she made quick work of getting the wetness out and then drying individual sections and once she was done, added a spray of hairspray to keep fly away strands in place. Taron had told her nothing about his plans except that a nice outfit was required, to which she groaned and rolled her eyes. A nice outfit to her was jeans and a hoodie but she routed through her wardrobe and found a black off the shoulder lace top and pair of skinny jeans she loved to wear. Knowing she had picked heels for their evening, a flat pair of pumps with a little gold design completed her outfit.

She added the tiniest bit of make up to her face with some eye liner and mascara with a small bit of highlight on her cheeks and it was enough for her. She just wasn’t a huge make up person and without the pressure of a premier or a make-up artist to do it for her, simple and easy was best. A plain gloss went on her lips and once she was dressed, sprayed the perfume she always wore when went somewhere nice with Taron, the Hugo Boss orange scent her favourite. Taking one last look in the mirror at herself, she fluffed her hair a little and grinned. Black was always a good choice and she knew Taron would appreciate the off the shoulder style top. Initially she had pulled out a lovely low cut lace V-neck top but after trying it on, it wasn’t suited for what she was sure Taron had planned and was happy to save the quite revealing top for another day. She took her perfume out with her along with her lip gloss and made her way back to the bedroom, knocking on the still open door.

“Come on in chicken.”

Robyn stepped into the bedroom and saw Taron sitting on the bed with his back turned to her. He had a grey silk shirt on but it was all she could see of him, along with his black slacks.

“All good and ready to go and within the hour too.”

She watched as Taron stood up and turned around to face her, the bed between them. The sleeves of his grey shirt were partly rolled up and the top four buttons undone, showing not only a glimpse of a white tank top underneath but a lot of his upper chest. His shirt was tucked into his trousers and his whole outfit was gorgeous on him. She smiled as he walked around the bed and over to her, immediately a waft of his aftershave hitting her senses.

“So are we going to a fancy place then” She asked him. “You are all dressed up.”

“You look nice.”

Robyn grinned at him. “You too and you already knew what I was going to wear.”

“True but I can still say you look nice. Seeing the clothes on a hanger is different than seeing them on and I am ready too. Just need to grab my phone and wallet.”

While Taron routed around for his personal belongings, Robyn got her small black clutch shoulder bag ready. She dropped in her perfume and lip gloss. Sitting on her side of the bed, she picked her ring and the bracelet Taron had given her from the bedside locker and put them on, her fingers running over the silver bracelet, her lips in a small smile as she looked at it. It was still so beautiful to her and she would always cherish it.

Taron leaned on the door frame and watched her as she put the bracelet he got her onto her wrist, glad to see she could manage the catch herself. His eyes wandered up and to her bare shoulders. It wasn’t a backless dress that he picked that she wore but he appreciated the extra skin on show from her lacy black top and when he told her she looked nice, inside his heart was yelling at him to tell she looked beautiful as always but he kept tight lipped, even more so at how her perfume made parts of him tingle.

“You all set?” He asked her.

“Yep. Just have to grab my jacket but I threw it on your couch yesterday so God only knows where it could be.”

On que, Taron held up her leather jacket to her. “Found it.” He grinned. He threw it her way and his smile grew as he held up his own. “Wouldn’t be us if we didn’t match somehow right?”

“You had to pick a leather one?” She groaned as she stood up. “You probably have a whole wardrobe of jackets. Pick a different one!”

Taron chuckled as he slipped his arms into his coat. “Nope, sorry chicken. Completes my outfit.”

“Taron come on!” Robyn pulled her own coat on. “It’s my birthday weekend.” She tried, giving him a little pout. “Please?” She asked softly walking over to him. “It’s not a red-carpet thing or a media thing so us matching isn’t really needed right?” She gently gripped the left and right seam of his leather jacket. “I mean I am sure there is another lovely coat you can choose to wear instead.”

“Wicked Irish womanly powers.” He said to her but his face was smiling. “Sure. Help me pick one.”

With a little skip, Robyn turned and walked out of the bedroom, reaching for Taron’s hand as she went, dragging him a little behind. She stopped outside his little closet at his door where she knew he hung his coats and letting go his hand opening it wide. “Ok let’s see. No, no, nope.”

Taron stood behind her a little, still smiling as he watched her look through his coats.

“Try this one.” She handed him his demin coat with the brown collar and he slipped out of his leather jacket, handing it to Robyn who hung it back up and when she turned around, her nose crinkled up. “Oh no. Take it off.”

“No?” Asked Taron fixing the collar. “I like this jacket.”

“Me too but not with this look. Off.”

With a chuckle, Taron did as she asked and handed it to her and she hung it up and placed it back on the rail. “My leather one is perfect.”

Robyn didn’t answer him but got her hands on plain black coat with a simple silver zip up the front and a single side zipped pocket over the left breast of the coat. “This one.” She slipped it off the hanger and turned around to Taron. “Try this one.”

With a nod, Taron put on the coat and as he shuffled it so it fit his shoulders better, he looked to Robyn and she was grinning his way. “This one?”

“Yep.”

“Ok then. So now that you are happy with my outfit, can we go? I am sure Anthony is downstairs waiting for us.”

“Sure.”

Making sure they had all they needed, they left Taron’s flat and headed towards the gate, greeting Ben as he opened the black steel frames for them. Outside the gates, a familiar blacked out car was waiting for them and the driver door opened, Anthony stepping out.

“Good afternoon Taron, Miss Quinn.”

“Anthony!” Robyn puffed. “Please call me Robyn!”

“Of course Miss Quinn.” He grinned, opening the door of the car to let them in, Taron letting Robyn in first.

Once they were settled in the car, Anthony closed the door of the car and got in the driver’s seat. “Taron it will be about half an hour with traffic, could be a little more.”

“That should be fine Anthony. Thank you.”

As the car moved off Robyn turned to Taron. “Right ok, so what do I need to do to get Anthony to call me Robyn? This Miss Quinn thing is getting old quickly.”

Taron chuckled. “You feeling your age Miss Quinn? Ow shit! Robyn!” He rubbed his arm where she had punched him. “Jesus Christ you are strong.”

“I am not old.” She replied crossing her arms. “Just ‘cos you are younger.”

Taron smiled, still rubbing his arm. “And you are not old darling.” He swung his left arm around her shoulders, trying to make peace with her through a hug. “And I think you will have to talk to Elton about the Miss Quinn thing.” He whispered into her hair, giving her temple a little kiss and nuzzle, the scent from her shampoo so lovely. “And chicken, you are definitely not old.” He let his nose and lips brush over her skin again. “And so beautiful.”

“Pfft.” Robyn still sat in a huff, trying to ignore his soft lips on her head but when he moved his head down and quickly kissed her neck, she giggled and pushed him away. “Alright, you’re forgiven.” He had taken his arm away from her shoulder, but she took his hand and guided it over her head and around her shoulders again. “And I guess I will have to talk to Elton then.”

“Best person.” Taron agreed.

“So you going to tell me where we are going?”

“You can’t wait another twenty minutes?”

“Uh-uh.”

“Sorry chicken. I have done well to keep the surprise a surprise this far, I am going to remain tight lipped.” He laughed a little. “But I know you will love it.”

“I have loved everything so far.” She agreed. “And you too, even though you called me old.”

“I love you too even though you punched me.”

Robyn reached for her right hand and brought it to her lap, immediately running her thumbs over the back of his hand. “Sorry.”

“I deserved it.”

“Maybe a little but I am sorry.”

Taron chuckled. “No worries Robyn.”

Leaning into her a little, her let her continue her little hand massage, watching as she slowly dug her thumbs in circles on his skin, running over his knuckles and then down his fingers before turning his hand over and rubbing the inside of his palm. On hearing a rumble, she looked to Taron. “Maybe we should have fed you.” His stomach rumbled again. “Or even gotten you some coffee.”

“I have it all under control Robyn. Won’t be rumbling for long.”

“So we are going for food? And it is not breakfast because you wanted to make that for me. Lunch? Are you going for lunch? Or is it brunch?” Taron pretended to zip his lips. “Will you get some coffee?”

Shaking his head Taron then nodded. “I am sure I will be able to get some coffee.”

“And some nice food?”

“Nice try Robyn but I am not telling you.”

“But it is definitely food?” She quizzed. “Italian food? Irish food? British food? Mexican? Spanish? American? South American?”

“Robyn!” Taron laughed loudly as she listed off in one breathe several various food nationalities. “It’s fifteen minutes!” He gave her hand which was massaging his, a light squeeze. “Not great for the old surprises are you?”

“Haven’t had the best luck with them in the past.” She said more to herself than him.

Taron hugged her tight against him. “Have I ever let you down?” He asked. “Not counting New York in this.” He whispered.

“Never.” She answered him back.

“You’re going to love it. Only thirteen minutes to go.”

She swotted his hand lightly but then picked up his right hand in her two and resumed her little massage on his hand, going over each individual finger one at a time. Robyn had long fingers, perfect for playing piano, but Taron’s hand was strong and large and she lined her right hand up against his, smiling at the difference between them.

Taron chuckled at her little giggle as he watched her measure out their hands. “Smaller doesn’t mean any less strong. It’s thanks to your hands that I am here and I never forget that.” He brought her hand to his body, slipping it under his jacket and pressed it against his chest. “Still beating.” Robyn smiled at his gesture, not taking her hand away. “You know you have my full permission to do this whenever you want.”

“I know. Haven’t felt the need to do so in a very long time.”

“Getting closer to August.” Taron said quietly.

“Sure is.” Robyn agreed just as quietly.

“You still think about it? What happened?” He asked his voice very quiet.

Robyn nodded. “Yep.” She pressed her hand a little harder against his chest. “I don’t think I will ever not think about it but we have lots of other things that take preference in my thoughts.”

“Me too.” He agreed.

“So where are we going?” She asked him, giggling as he sighed loudly letting his head hit the back of the seat. “Fine I will wait.” She stretched over and kissed his jaw lightly. “I can wait.”

Taron smiled and feeling her take his hand again, he shook his head as he looked down to his hand in hers. Glad to hear she was feeling just like him but happy to leave the conversation at that. He didn’t want to ruin the happy mood they were both in, or the excitedness that was running through his blood because he knew Robyn’s first birthday treat of the day was going to be a good one.

#Taron Egerton #Taron Egerton Fanfiction #Taron Egerton Fanfic #Taron Fanfic #Love #Friendship #Emotions #Feelings #Birthday #Birthday Surprises #Teasing #Flirting #Robyn and Taron

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skswriting · 7 years ago

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baby you’re a habit i just can’t quit

Rating: T Pairing: Yoongi/Jeongguk Words: 10095 Summary: It’s a habit, a vice, one Yoongi has had for at least ten years. He was thirteen the first time he tried a cigarette, inhaling the smoke so far into his lungs that he threw up. But there had been something addicting about the rush and adrenaline that had followed that first drag and Yoongi had never been able to shake it, despite the disappointment of his mother when the smell of smoke started to cling to his skin. So Yoongi doesn’t expect anything or anyone to be able to convince him to quit anytime soon, not even the bright-eyed boy that crashes into his life like Namjoon crashes into poles when he tries to walk and text at the same time. AN: 100% inspired by yoongi with a cigarette in his highlight reel so yeah you can read it on ao3 here also ive never like explicitly said it but all the pictures i’ve been using at the beginning of my things aren’t mine!!! edited 5-23-18: i decided that instead of stylizing jk's name as "jungkook" i'm gonna stylize it as "jeongguk"

It’s a habit, a vice, one Yoongi has had for at least ten years. He was thirteen the first time he tried a cigarette, inhaling the smoke so far into his lungs that he threw up. But there had been something addicting about the rush and adrenaline that had followed that first drag and Yoongi had never been able to shake it, despite the disappointment of his mother when the smell of smoke started to cling to his skin.

Ten years later and the effects of his long-time habit are obvious: the smell is permanently etched into his skin and his clothes, his sense of smell and taste are awful, he can’t run for extended periods of time, and his voice is gravellier than it should be for someone his age. Still, he can’t kick it.

He had tried once, about a year ago at Bobby’s insistence that they would send him to an early grave, but the withdrawals had been a nightmare for everyone involved. His temper was even worse than normal, his fingers were constantly twitching in search of a cigarette, and his stomach had been upset for the two whole days he had been able to quit.

So Yoongi doesn’t expect anything or anyone to be able to convince him to quit anytime soon, not even the bright-eyed boy that crashes into his life like Namjoon crashes into poles when he tries to walk and text at the same time.

It’s an inky September night and the breeze is welcome after a hot afternoon. Yoongi is standing outside his parlor, cigarette perched between his lips as he leans against the wall and swipes through the parlor’s Instagram feed. He’s uploading some of their newer work, the more tasteful ones at least. If Yoongi has to tattoo one more infinity sign on some girl’s wrist he might shoot himself.

He flicks the cigarette to rid it of some ash as the bar door across the street bangs open and two drunk college students fall out of the doorway. They’re giggling into each other as they try to straighten themselves, but it’s obvious that they’re extremely inebriated and barely able to stand upright.

Even across the street Yoongi can hear them, that’s how loud they’re being.

“Happy birthday Jeonggukie!” one of them crows, arm locked tight around the other’s neck and they teeter dangerously on the pavement, much to the amusement of the stragglers outside of the bar.

“We sho-should do something to c-celebrate!” the loud one continues, hiccupping and Yoongi snorts because how much more celebrating can they do but then, “Let’s get tattoos!”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow as he watches them drunkenly cross the street, falling all over each other as they try to stay upright. Before they’ve even reached his side of the street he’s decided that he’s going to turn them away, because they’re too drunk to be making this monumental of a decision.

“I’ve- I follow this place o-on Instagram,” Jeonggukie says as they near the shop, his eyes flicking over to Yoongi just as Yoongi drops his cigarette and snuffs it out with the heel of his boot. Yoongi can see a small crinkle of his nose before they noisily let themselves into his parlor. Yoongi takes a moment to enjoy the few moments of stillness before he has to deal with those two drunk idiots.

The noise hits him full in the face as he pulls the door open, Bobby trying to get them to quiet down so he can properly hear their request.

“Is there a problem here?” Yoongi asks coolly and the drunks turn on their heels simultaneously to face him, “You’re causing quite a raucous.”

“We hic want tattoos!” the loud one yells and Yoongi blinks at him, unappreciative of having him yell in his face.

“You do, do you? Maybe you should sleep that alcohol off and come back tomorrow when you’re sober,” Yoongi tells him, maneuvering around the drunk couple, assuming they’re a couple by the tight grip they have around each other, and stands behind the counter beside Bobby.

The loud one whines, “But Jeonggukie and I need to celebrate! He turned nineteen today, woohoo!”

Yoongi shakes his head, “Not gonna happen, not when you’re this drunk.”

Jeonggukie leans over the counter, staring Yoongi in the eye, “You smell like a cigarette.”

Yoongi quirks an eyebrow, shoving his hands in the pockets of his bomber jacket, “Okay?”

Jeonggukie wrinkles his nose, like he had outside when Yoongi had extinguished his cigarette, “Gross.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes as Bobby snickers, “Whatever kid, get out of my shop before I have to throw you out. We’re not serving you.”

The loud one looks like he’s about to argue, mouth opened exceedingly wide for someone with a small face, but they willingly stumble towards the door when Bobby comes around from the counter to usher them out.

“Remember children,” Yoongi calls out, causing Jeonggukie to look at him over his shoulder, “moderation is key. Don’t come back.”

Yoongi doesn’t smoke in his flat, because he refuses to subject Holly to second hand smoke. So, he’s taking to smoking at the base of his steps, near his parlor, ass cold as he sits on the lowest step. The parlor is closed for the day and Yoongi watches as a few people shuffle past him, almost zombishly for a Sunday and Yoongi shakes his head. University is less about people educating themselves and more about how many shots they can take in the shortest amount of time. He flicks the end of his cigarette to rid it of some ash as he exhales the smoke, right onto someone’s legs as they stop in front of him.

“Um, excuse me,” the voice says softly and Yoongi lazily raises his eyes to see the kid from the night before, Jeonggukie, standing in front of him, a small box in his hands.

Yoongi doesn’t say anything, just raises an eyebrow as he brings his cigarette back to his lips.

“Hi, I mean, hello,” he bows slightly, fringe falling in front of his eyes as his eyes dart nervously around, “I- you probably remember me from last night.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi says shortly, “I remember your boyfriend screaming in my face.”

The kid winces, clutching at the box in his hands a little tighter, “Y-Yeah, sorry about him. Taehyung is already a loud person and when he drinks he has absolutely no dial tone.”

Yoongi nods, uncaringly, “So what are you doing here? You look pretty good for a kid who looked like he was about to pass out across my counter.”

Jeonggukie purses his lips, “I look better than I feel, trust me. But, um, I came to apologize. We were really rude to you and that other guy last night.”

Yoongi snorts, snuffing out his cigarette on the brick wall beside himself as he stands up on creaky knees, “Don’t worry about it Jeonggukie. It’s not the first time a couple of drunks have bumbled into my shop.”

His cheeks color as he bites at the corner of his mouth, “It’s just Jeongguk, actually. Taehyung is really affectionate when he’s drunk, he calls our friend Jimin “moonchild”.”

“Sounds like a real catch,” Yoongi’s mouth quirks, almost teasing, “Look, don’t worry about it, really, it’s not a big deal. Go home, sleep that hangover off.”

Yoongi turns on his heel, exhaling the last bit of smoke he was holding as a hand shoots to catch his elbow.

“I-! Um, I-I brought you something, as… a peace offering?” Jeongguk extends the box in his hand almost unsurely, as his other hand stays curled around Yoongi’s elbow resolutely.

Yoongi stares incredulously down at him, because standing on a few steps has made him taller than Jeongguk, “You brought me…?”

“Um,” Jeongguk’s face heats up as he shifts on his feet, “m-my cousin runs a bakery and so… it’s just a bunch of cookies he made extra of…”

Yoongi regards Jeongguk for a brief moment, taking in his fresh face and sparkling eyes as he glances shyly up at him. He’s wearing his high school varsity jacket, a pair of dark jeans, with timberlands to finish the outfit and he looks like he just stepped out of a made for preteen girl’s movie. But his expression is earnest, his grip unrelenting on Yoongi’s elbow, and the box unshakingly held out to him. He looks like a good kid, even if he does get drunk with his boyfriend and lets him yell in other people’s faces.

“Are they chocolate chip? I don’t fuck with any cookie that isn’t chocolate chip,” Yoongi says as he finally accepts the box from Jeongguk.

Jeongguk laughs, something higher pitched than Yoongi was expecting and his face scrunches up as lips curl to display his teeth. Yoongi blinks, heart beating rapidly at the sudden change from shy and unsure to carefree and melodic. It’s a weird little laugh that resonates around them as Jeongguk let’s go of Yoongi’s elbow to half way cover his mouth and Yoongi’s arm is cold.

To distract himself from the sight that is Jeongguk laughing, Yoongi opens the box to peer inside and is greeted with so many cookies he can already feel his teeth hurting in protest.

“There must be at least three dozen cookies in here, holy shit,” Yoongi says, shaking the box for emphasis, “Are you trying to put me in a sugar coma? What kind of apology is that?”

Jeongguk smiles as he scratches at the back of his neck, “Yeah, Seokjin went a little overboard, I will admit… but they’re good! I promise!”

Seokjin… Seokjin… the name sounds familiar to Yoongi but he can’t quite place where he’s heard it or who he’s heard it from.

“I hope I have enough milk for these,” Yoongi mutters as he starts ascending the stairs again.

When he doesn’t hear footsteps following him, he stops halfway to turn around and look down at Jeongguk who’s already staring back up at him.

“Well?” Yoongi says.

“Well what?” Jeongguk furrows his eyebrows.

“Are you coming to help me eat these or not?” Yoongi scoffs, before he continues climbing the steps, satisfied when he hears the soft clank of Jeongguk’s timberlands against the metal.

After their “cookie coma”, as Jeongguk starts calling it, he starts visiting Yoongi’s shop just to talk to the elder. Usually they talk about silly, meaningless things, like dumb shit Taehyung says or drama Jeongguk sees around campus or even something they’ve seen on the news. Yoongi normally sits behind the counter as he does financials or sketches or plays on his phone and Jeongguk normally leans across the counter, chin propped up on his hand, smiling down at Yoongi. Yoongi tries to ignore the fluttering feeling in his stomach, astonished that this brat can make him feel like that.

“I think I want to get a piercing hyung,” Jeongguk is saying, grasping at the counter and leaning on his tiptoes so he can try and catch a glimpse of Yoongi’s screen.

“Mmm,” Yoongi says distractedly, preoccupied with trying to figure out the puzzle he’s currently stuck on.

“Yeah, I’ve been wanting a new one for a while and I think I’ve decided on which one I want,” Jeongguk says.

“That’s nice,” Yoongi mumbles, flipping a couple aqueducts and getting annoyed that that’s the wrong move.

“Aren’t you going to ask what I want to get pierced?” Jeongguk asks, mirth dancing in his eyes even though Yoongi can’t see it.

“Hm? Oh sure, what?”

“My dick.”

“Your- wait, what?” Yoongi finally looks up to see Jeongguk laughing at him and Yoongi is reminded of the first time he saw Jeongguk laugh, standing at the base of Yoongi’s steps and looking so happy. Jeongguk looks like that now, eyes crinkled and teeth on display as he laughs at Yoongi’s confusion.

“That’s what you get for not paying attention,” Jeongguk sobers, smiling down at Yoongi softly, “But I want to get my helix pierced.”

“Oh. Oh,” Yoongi licks his lips and Jeongguk shakes his head.

“Will you do it for me hyung?” Jeongguk asks, posed like he’s ready to pull out his biggest weapon, his puppy dog eyes.

But Jeongguk doesn’t need to beg, because Yoongi shrugs and says, “Sure. Let me go get my station ready.”

“Really? That was easier than I thought… you should get a new piercing too!”

Yoongi snorts as he walks to his little room, bypassing Bobby whose finishing up a woman’s pretty badass looking sleeve, “Why?”

“I dunno, it’d look cool. You should get a lip piercing, it’d go with your whole “rebel” image.”

“I scare children enough as is, no thanks,” Yoongi tells him, patting his chair, “Sit down.”

Jeongguk makes himself comfortable, folding his hands between his knees as Yoongi rolls gloves on and cleans a needle.

“Which ear?” he asks, pulling up a stool on Jeongguk’s left side when he tells Yoongi that ear, “Okay, here’s the antiseptic wipe.”

Jeongguk winces a little when the cool gel meets his skin, and Yoongi watches as his thighs flex when he squeezes his knees. Yoongi swallows the saliva pooling in his mouth before he quickly dots where he wants to pierce, stepping back a moment to survey if it looks okay there.

Jeongguk smiles slightly at him, just a little quirk of the corner of his lips, nibbling on his bottom lip slightly because even if he’s pierced his ears before Yoongi can see how nervous he is. But he looks so trusting, staring up at Yoongi like that as he keeps his hands trapped between his knees to keep them preoccupied.

“Not even going to ask me if it looks okay to me, hyung?” Jeongguk teases and Yoongi pinches just underneath his ear as he settles back into his stool.

“Nope.”

Jeongguk lets out a bark of laughter, stilling when he feels Yoongi lean his head back against the chair.

“Hold still. Take a deep breath in for me and on the count of three, exhale. One… two… three.”

Jeongguk does as he’s told and Yoongi punctures his ear on the exhale. Jeongguk gives a small jerk of his head, but it’s a reflex that can’t be helped.

“I’m going to give it a second to sit and then I’m going to put it out and put a ring in, okay?”

Jeongguk gives a minute nod of his head and Yoongi waits two heartbeats, before he pulls the needle out of Jeongguk’s ear and quickly slips a ring through.

“I have to tighten it, so it might pinch a bit, alright?”

Jeongguk is a trooper and doesn’t give Yoongi any grief as he tightens the ring, wiping away some blood that had dripped down when he removed the needle.

“You did good,” Yoongi smiles, continuing to wipe some blood away, “I’ll change it for you in a few months and then after that you’ll be good to do it on your own.”

Jeongguk looks at it in the small, handheld mirror Yoongi gives him and smiles, before saying to Yoongi in an accusing tone, “You just assumed I wanted a ring.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes and flicks Jeongguk’s lobe, Jeongguk letting out a small “ow” even though Yoongi is sure it was more for dramatics than actual pain, “Shut up. You wear studs all the time, I figured you could freshen up with a ring.��

“Shouldn’t that be a decision I should make? With my piercing?” Jeongguk laughs, “That’s not fair.”

“Life isn’t fair kid.”

Jeongguk pouts, “Hyung, don’t be mean to me.”

Yoongi clucks his tongue, pinching Jeongguk’s nose and making him go cross eyed to look at Yoongi’s fingers, “Stop pouting like that, you look ridiculous.”

“You owe me hyung,” Jeongguk says, voice slightly nasally from where Yoongi still has his nose gripped between his fingers.

“I don’t owe you shit.”

“Let me pick your piercing,” Jeongguk continues, talking over Yoongi.

“Who said I was getting a piercing?” Yoongi raises an eyebrow and Jeongguk makes an affronted sound from beneath him.

“You said you’d get one!”

“I did not!” Yoongi argues, letting go of Jeongguk’s nose so he can throw away the bloodied tissues and remove his gloves.

“Hyung get a new piercing with me!” Jeongguk whines and Yoongi huffs, crossing his arms as he leans against the sink counter.

They have a small stare down, Jeongguk’s cheeks flushing a little as they hold eye contact for so long. Yoongi is sure he’s going to win, watching Jeongguk’s gaze begin to falter, but then Yoongi watches Jeongguk’s tongue dart out to wet his lips and Yoongi can’t stop himself from looking away, trying to hide the heat in his cheeks.

Jeongguk makes a triumphant sound, “Ha! I win!”

Yoongi lets out a suffering sigh as Jeongguk bounds of his chair, giddy as he leaves Yoongi’s room to find Bobby.

Twenty minutes later, Yoongi finds himself with a tongue piercing and a curiously shy Jeongguk. It’s kind of cute to see Jeongguk shuffle his feet, his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans as he looks at anywhere that’s not Yoongi with his tongue stuck out observing his new piercing.

“I guess this means you’ll have to cut back on your smoking a bit, huh hyung?” Jeongguk does say before he smiles cheekily, face still a little flushed before he gives Yoongi a small wave and leaves.

“Sneaky brat,” Yoongi sniffs, but checks his tongue out again with the mirror in his hand. The piercing is kind of hot, if he does say so himself.

Jeongguk had texted him, telling him that he was going to stop by for a bit, and Yoongi finds himself tidying up his flat. Holly is stretched out on the couch on his favorite blanket, lazily chewing on a squeaky toy and Yoongi stops for a moment, wondering what he’s doing, why he’s cleaning up for Jeongguk. He wonders why he’s bothered about the opinion of some brat, some brat with a great smile and a kind deposition who has the ability to turn Yoongi’s insides into molten lava with just one look. Yoongi can’t believe he’s developed a crush on someone four years younger than him, someone practically still a kid, and a taken kid at that.

Whenever Yoongi thinks about the chemistry between him and Jeongguk, he has to stop and remind himself that Jeongguk is dating Taehyung. He makes himself think about how cuddly and snug the two were in his shop on Jeongguk’s birthday, arms wrapped tightly around each other as they asked for tattoos, probably couple tattoos. He makes himself think about how the two are probably high school sweet hearts. Yoongi sighs as he drops onto his couch, jostling Holly a little, and stares sulkily down at the floor. Yoongi hasn’t had a romantic interest in someone in years and now he finds that he’s got a crush on an insufferable brat who likes to invade his flat and drink all his milk and steal Holly’s attention and he can’t even do anything about it because the brats already in love.

So Yoongi finds himself standing just outside his parlor, hands cupping his mouth as he lights up his first cigarette of the day. He can instantly feel his nerves smoothing out as his lungs fill with smoke and ignores the slight pain in his tongue. It’s worth it, worth the ease, even when his heart seizes when he sees Jeongguk walking down the sidewalk.

“Hyung,” Jeongguk says happily, one hand curled around the strap of his backpack and the other shoved in his jacket. October days might still be warm, but the nights are cold.

Yoongi nods at him and Jeongguk comes to stand a few feet away from him. Yoongi, in his lack of judgement, lets the smoke linger near him instead of blowing it away from them so Jeongguk has to stay back.

“Should you really be-”

“One cigarette isn’t going to kill me,” Yoongi says gruffly, turning his eyes towards the pinkening sky.

Jeongguk purses his lips, like he wants to argue with Yoongi that they will in fact kill him, but Yoongi cuts through first.

“What are you doing here?” Yoongi can feel the dull ache in his chest and the goosebumps on his arms and wishes he had brought a jacket down. It wouldn’t soothe his chest, but at least he wouldn’t be cold and miserable, just miserable.

Jeongguk furrows his eyebrows, tightening his hold on his backpack, “I… I told you I was gonna stop by.”

Yoongi shakes his head, taking another drag and letting the smoke curl in his lungs before exhaling it slowly, “I know that, but why? What are you trying to get out of this, kid?”

Jeongguk bites his lips, looking confused and frustrated, “I don’t understand hyung, what are you asking me? I thought we were friends, why wouldn’t I come hang out with you?”

The corner of Yoongi’s lip curls in an ugly manner and can’t stop himself from saying, “Who said we were friends?”

Jeongguk takes a step back, like Yoongi’s words have literally hit him, “Yoongi hyung what are you saying?”

“What does it sound like?” Yoongi’s words are distorted and rude, voice gruff from years of his vice, “Go home kid, go back to your boyfriend. Don’t come back.”

Jeongguk looks at him, eyes shining in the light hanging above the shop and Yoongi turns away from him as he flicks his still lit cigarette. It tastes like lies and deceit and Yoongi can’t stand it, can’t stand the upset look Jeongguk’s eyes hold as he looks at Yoongi like he’s betrayed him. Which in a way, Yoongi has.

Jeongguk doesn’t say anything as Yoongi walks back up to his flat. The door closes softly behind him, but Yoongi feels the deafening silence in his flat like a bullet to his brain.

The next time Yoongi sees Jeongguk, Yoongi’s standing a few feet away from a popular café, Kim’s Kafé in the heart of the city, chewing furiously on a piece of gum. His fingers are twitchy and he can’t stop shifting his weight from one foot to the other, eyes darting around in an unfocused manner. He’s talking to Suran, a good friend of his and Namjoon’s, or at least he’s trying to but he can’t concentrate on the conversation. Suran notices and sighs.

“How long has it been?” she asks and Yoongi’s eyes snap to her as he crosses his arms and uncrosses them again.

“Two weeks,” Yoongi tells her, blowing a bubble and loudly snapping it. It draws the attention of a middle-aged woman who glares at him and Yoongi glares right back.

“You’re doing good Yoongs,” she says, voice fond and Yoongi’s ears turn pink at the nickname, “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks,” Yoongi says but he doesn’t mean it. It doesn’t feel good; he doesn’t feel good. He feels like a fraud.

The bell above the door of the café jingles and catches his attention so he turns towards it and immediately wishes he hadn’t. Jeongguk steps out of the café, wearing a slightly oversized sweater that covers both his hands, Taehyung’s arm looped through his. They’re smiling at each other, the straw of Jeongguk’s drink trapped between his lips as he sucks at some sweet, chocolately looking drink. Yoongi feels like his chest is caved in, like his lungs are deflating, and all he wants is a cigarette. His fingers instinctively reach inside his bomber jacket pocket, but all that’s inside is his packet of gum, so he unwraps a piece and pops another one in.

Jeongguk looks up then and Yoongi feels dizzy when they make eye contact, all happiness draining from Jeongguk’s eyes as he looks at Yoongi. The way the couple is walking, they’re going to have to walk right by him and Suran and Yoongi doesn’t think he’s taken a breath since Jeongguk stepped out of the café. Taehyung is still talking animatedly, despite Jeongguk’s gaze being focused somewhere else.

“Yoongi?”

Yoongi turns violently towards Suran, who looks incredibly worried about him.

“Yoongi you look so pale, are you okay? Is this a withdrawal symptom?” she asks, placing a hand on his shoulder as she steps closer to him.

Yoongi has never been one to seek comfort from another, but he needs something to ground him right now, something to hold onto, so he grabs at the hand Suran has on his shoulder as his breathing quickens.

“I-I think so,” he lies to her, because it’s a withdrawal symptom; not a nicotine withdrawal, but a Jeongguk withdrawal, “Can we wait for Namjoon inside? God, I really want a cigarette.”

Yoongi doesn’t give Suran time to answer, just pulls her into the café and to the nearest table. His heart feels like it’s beating a thousand miles an hour and he doesn’t know how to get it to calm down. He furiously drums his fingers against the table as Suran watches him, chin placed in her hand as she tries to talk to him but to no avail.

When Namjoon does finally show up, Yoongi has five pieces of gum in his mouth and even those don’t feel enough.

“Dude are you okay?” Namjoon asks, concern etched in the lines his furrowed eyebrows have made, “You look like shit.”

“I think he’s having serious withdrawals,” Suran says, “I’m gonna order him a tea to try and calm him down.”

“No, it’s okay, I got it,” Namjoon waves her back down, “Stay here and talk to him, I’ll be right back.”

“This is awful, I feel-” Yoongi stops because he doesn’t know how to describe how he feels, he just knows it feels awful and he wants nothing more than for it to go away. He feels like a cigarette would solve all of his problems, but even thinking about putting one between his lips has his stomach swooping dangerously.

“I think I’m going to be sick.”

Suran’s eyes widen and she looks around frantically for a trashcan or a bathroom, but Yoongi shakes his head, “I won’t, it’s okay, that’s just the feeling I have. Like I’m going to be sick and it’s never going to stop.”

“This is horrible Yoongi, I’m so sorry you have to go through this,” Suran tells him and he can hear the sincerity in his voice.

“I appreciate the sentiment noona, but I did this to myself. Have to lie in the bed I make and all that,” Yoongi waves his hand.

Yoongi remembers the first week he had stopped smoking, the irritation that had laced itself just under the surface of his skin. He hadn’t been able to work the entire week because he had been so snappy, tone scathing and Bobby his main abuser. He had given Holly to Suran to look after he was that unstable, pacing the length of his flat apartment until it had driven him insane and then wandering the streets at night for hours on end until he exhausted himself.

The first day hadn’t been the hardest; it had been the mindless, unconscious times that were the worst. Yoongi didn’t realize how many cigarettes he actually smoked until he couldn’t, getting up from his bed to stand at his door with his shoes halfway on only to realize there wasn’t a reason for him to go outside. The nausea had been his worst symptom, the constant feeling that he was going to throw up only to never actually do it. He could handle the twitch in his fingers, because he could easily find something to occupy them with, but nothing could settle his stomach.

The gum had been Namjoon’s idea, who told him it was easier to pick up a new habit in lieu of another instead of trying to outright quit one. The gum filled in those unconscious moments, when Yoongi was searching for something. It’s been hard, but Yoongi’s adamant on quitting this time. Every time he even looks at a cigarette all he can see is sad, down turn eyes and the taste in his mouth when he said, “Don’t come back.” Yoongi has never regretted anything more.

“Here, Seokjin said this should help calm you down.”

Namjoon places a steaming cup in front of him and Yoongi grabs onto it only to feel the warmth in his hands. As Yoongi stares at the plastic lid of his cup, he remembers something.

“Seokjin?” he asks Namjoon, who hands Suran her own cup of tea.

“Yeah, Seokjin, the owner of this café,” Namjoon motions to a man behind the counter, an apron tied around his waist and a smile engraved in his face, “I’m sure you’ve met him with as much caffeine as you drink.”

“Probably,” Yoongi says, spitting his giant wad of gum out into a napkin so he can take a tentative sip of his tea.

Yoongi side eyes Seokjin, but doesn’t say anything else. They’re probably not the same person. That would be too coincidental for Yoongi and he’s never been a believer in fate. But he also never thought he would ever let someone convince him to quit smoking and yet here he is, two weeks in and suffering.

Jeongguk had been applying tattoo cream to Yoongi’s back, on the latest piece Yoongi had gotten done. It wasn’t anything special, but Yoongi didn’t want it to scar over all the same.

He had been staring down at the floor as Jeongguk rubbed at his back when he heard Jeongguk sniff and then hmph lightly. Yoongi could easily imagine the small, displeased wrinkle of Jeongguk’s nose.

“What?” he had asked, smiling slightly.

“You stink,” Jeongguk had supplied and Yoongi had felt a coolness against his skin meaning Jeongguk had started waving his had to get the cream to cool.

“Thanks,” Yoongi had said dryly, moving away from Jeongguk to pull his shirt back down, “Glad to hear it.”

Jeongguk’s nose had still been crinkled and Yoongi only ever saw him do that when he could smell the cigarette smoke that clung to Yoongi like a second skin.

“It’s true, you smell like a walking ashtray,” Jeongguk had grumbled, putting the cap back on the tube of creaming and handing it to Yoongi.

Yoongi had grabbed at it silently, but Jeongguk didn’t let go of the tube; instead, he stared up at Yoongi, a hard expression on his face.

“What?” Yoongi had sighed agitatedly, different from his “what” before.

“I just… don’t understand why you don’t quit hyung. It’s not healthy.”

“I know, Jeongguk,” Yoongi said tiredly, “Anything I say isn’t going to make you understand, so just leave it alone.”

Jeongguk was quiet for a moment, surprisingly serious as he continued to stare at Yoongi. Yoongi almost felt unnerved, but he didn’t let Jeongguk see that.

“I just don’t want to see you suffer, hyung,” Jeongguk had said softly, voice lilting as if it hurt him to think about Yoongi being hurt.

Yoongi had smiled at Jeongguk, letting go of the tube still in Jeongguk’s hand to brush his bangs back. It had been incredibly intimate, and Jeongguk had leaned into his touch like it had been comforting.

“You’re a good kid Jeongguk, I don’t know why you hang around a punk like me-”

Jeongguk had grumbled, “I’m not a kid and you’re not a punk.”

“- but don’t worry about me, I can take care of myself. How much longer are you staying, do you want me to make ramen or order take out or something?”

Jeongguk had let the issue go, and they had ordered Chinese and joked over their food containers like normal, but Jeongguk’s worry had settled a heavy stone in Yoongi’s chest.

When Yoongi thinks back on it, watching the two drunk college kids stumble across the street towards his parlor and then seeing Jeongguk’s nose crinkle as Yoongi smoked a cigarette had been the beginning of the end to his habit.

He and Jeongguk had been friends for approximately three months until Yoongi had come to his senses and realized that nothing good would come of their friendship, not when Yoongi was pining after him. If Jeongguk had been single, maybe things would have been different; they might have had a brief, but satisfying relationship that wouldn’t have left Yoongi hurting as much as he currently is

But the world is cruel and so Yoongi is left to deal with the after math of one of the worst things he’s ever had to deal with, breaking the deep trust he knows he and Jeongguk had formed. After eating so much take out and drinking so much beer together they were bound to tell each other things and Yoongi had learned a lot about Jeongguk in the few months they had hung out.

Jeongguk’s dad was very strict when it came to Jeongguk’s studies, discouraging Jeongguk from majoring in something he actually liked, like dance, so he could major in business which Jeongguk had no interest in. Jeongguk had told him stories of a lonely childhood and absent parents and friends who had let him because he was a painfully shy kid. Yoongi’s heart had ached for him.

Then Yoongi turned around and did the same thing, had looked Jeongguk in the eyes and told him they were never friends, had implied that the nights they spent annoying the ahjumma that owns the barbeque place just down the street meant nothing, had implied that all the times they had visited bookstores and picked out books for each other to read were meaningless. Yoongi was worse than anyone who had previously dropped Jeongguk because at least they had been honest about their reasonings while Yoongi had lied.

But the world is cruel so Yoongi shouldn’t be surprised when Taehyung walks into his parlor one cold February night, scarf wrapped tightly around his face and only the apple of his red cheeks showing. It’s been three months since Yoongi told Jeongguk not to come back, since Yoongi had turned a blind eye to cigarettes, and Yoongi doesn’t want to have this confrontation with Jeongguk’s boyfriend.

The look in Taehyung’s eyes is already unfriendly, so Yoongi doesn’t waste his time with pleasantries and gets right down to it.

“What are you doing here?”

Taehyung takes his time in answering, unraveling his absurdly long scarf so there won’t be anything in the way when he yells at Yoongi. He steps up to the counter to look down at Yoongi who refuses to stand from his seat.

“First, let me just say, what the fuck.”

Yoongi hunches in on himself, arms crossed and laying on the desk in front of him.

“No, look at me,” Taehyung commands, voice demonstrating how pissed he is, “What the fuck. How could you do that to Jeongguk? How could you hurt him like that? He trusted you!”

“Why are you so mad at me?” Yoongi snaps, fingers twitching even from where he has them digging into his arms. He needs a piece of gum, “You should be mad at your boyfriend for hanging around me so much.”

“Boyf- are you fucking kidding me. Are you trying to tell me you told Jeongguk to fuck off because you thought we were dating? You’re unbelievable. Jeongguk and I aren’t together, dick, and you broke his heart over nothing.”

Yoongi licks his lips, refusing to look up at Taehyung, “I fucking saw you two on his birthday, all over each other. It was obvious-”

“It’s obvious that you’re a moron,” Taehyung cuts across him, tongue like acid, “and that I’m an affectionate person who likes to touch people regardless of if I’m drunk or sober. It is not obvious, on the other hand, that Jeongguk and I are dating because we fucking aren’t or ever were. Did you see me kiss him that night, or in any way act like we were a couple other than the fact that we were holding onto each other because we were so drunk?”

Yoongi feels like a scolded child, Taehyung’s face a little red from how angry he is, “… no.”

“And has Jeongguk ever talked about me in a more than friendly way? Any dates we’ve been on, any milestones we’ve celebrated, anything?”

“… no.”

“Exactly, because Jeongguk is nothing more to me than my best friend. And you broke his fucking heart because- because you were jealous? Petty? I don’t fucking know, but I do know that Jeongguk hasn’t been the same since that night and that you are going to fucking fix it.”

Yoongi drums his fingers on the counter, vaguely feeling like he did that day in the café he had seen the two of them, arm in arm. They’re friends. Best friends, actually, but only friends. Jeongguk’s not in love with Taehyung and Taehyung isn’t in love with Jeongguk and Yoongi is the biggest idiot to ever walk the Earth.

“But-”

“I didn’t come here to tell you that, but to tell you you’re the biggest asshole I’ve ever met and I don’t know what Jeongguk sees in you but you make him happy. So, figure it the fuck out and figure it the fuck out soon. I’m leaving.”

And Taehyung sweeps out of his parlor, wrapping his scarf around his face as he does so and leaving Yoongi immobilized.

“Damn that was intense. Did you really break some kids heart because you thought he was fucking some other kid?” Bobby asks from the doorway of his room.

Yoongi unwraps a piece of gum with shaky fingers and sticks it in his mouth, chewing furiously. He had no idea what he’s going to do.

A week later Yoongi is standing outside Kim’s Kafé a few minutes before it’s set to close, trying to work up the nerve to enter. He panics when he sees Seokjin starting to shut off lights and flings the door open, wincing when it bangs harshly against the wall and alerting Seokjin to his presence.

“Shit, sorry, I-”

“I’m sorry, we’re getting ready to close the café soon,” Seokjin smiles pleasantly at him and Yoongi knows soon Seokjin is going to be looking at him the same way Taehyung had looked at him.

“Yeah, I know I- fuck, this is gonna sound so stupid. Um, you’re Jeongguk’s cousin, right?”

Seokjin perks up at the sound of his cousin’s name, smile widening slightly, “Yeah! Are you one of Jeonggukie’s friends?”

“Um, not… exactly. I’m… I’m Min Yoongi and-”

Just like Yoongi expected, the smile is promptly wiped off Seokjin’s face and goes eerily stony.

“L-Look just hear me out!” Yoongi raises his hands helplessly, unsure if what he’s going to ask will be heard, “I fucked up, believe I know and I regret everything I ever said to Jeongguk to hurt his feelings and no amount of groveling will ever make up for what I did but I just- I need your help, please. Even if Jeongguk never wants to talk to me again I need to apologize to him so he doesn’t think he did something wrong because all of it was my fault. All of it, everything I said or thought was wrong because I had a few misconceptions about things and I need to let Jeongguk know I’m sorry, that I’m so fucking sorry and that I- that I-”

Yoongi breaks off with a frustrated sigh, raking his hands through his hair as he stares angrily down at the floor. Seokjin has his arms crossed against his chest, a sour look on his face as he stares at Yoongi.

“You realize how many times I’ve seen Jeongguk cry over you? How many times I’ve heard him ask, “Hyung, what did I do wrong?”? Jeongguk is a sensitive kid and he told you things I haven’t heard him talk about in years and you look him in the eyes and tell him all the time you guys had spent together was for nothing? I’ve never seen Jeongguk hurt as much as I have in the past two months and if you’re coming in here asking me to help you just so you can hurt him all over again I won’t-”

“No!” Yoongi shouts, voice ricocheting off the walls of the café, “I would rather jump in front of a bus than hurt Jeongguk again. I just want- I just want him to know that none of it was him, that it was all me and that I’m the biggest bag of dicks to have ever lived and that I’m sorry, that I’m so, so sorry I ever made him feel that way. Please, you have to help me say I’m sorry.”

Seokjin sniffs, arms still crossed tightly, shirt stretched tightly over his shoulders, “What do you need me to do?”

“… can I borrow your kitchen?”

Yoongi has finished his task in five hours, flour down the front of his black shirt and caked under his nails, but he’s down and tying the bow on the box. Seokjin hasn’t spoken to him the entire five hours they’ve been working and Yoongi doesn’t blame him. He’ll probably never show his face in this café again when he’s done, even though he’s going to severely miss its americanos.

“Let me just clean my mess up and I’ll be out of your hair,” Yoongi tells Seokjin, bowing a little in thanks.

Seokjin sighs before saying his first sentence to Yoongi since Yoongi turned on the mixer, “Don’t worry about it, I’ll clean this mess up. Just get these to Jeongguk and tell him what you told me; I can’t promise that he’ll accept it, but Jeongguk’s a good kid and he’ll at least hear you out.”

“N-No I can clean up-”

“Listen, just go. I’m tired of looking at your face,” even though Seokjin is smiling, Yoongi wouldn’t put it past him to be serious.

The box looks identical to the one Jeongguk had presented to him the day after his birthday and is filled with now what it had been filled with then: three dozen chocolate chip cookies, freshly baked thanks to Seokjin’s help.

Yoongi’s heart is pounding the entire time he walks to Jeongguk’s apartment. He hasn’t thought this far ahead, because he didn’t think Seokjin would actually help him. He doesn’t even know if Jeongguk is going to be home, if Jeongguk is going to humor him and listen to what he has to say. Yoongi wouldn’t blame him if Jeongguk shuts the door in his face and never talks to him again. Yoongi wouldn’t even blame him if Jeongguk doesn’t open the door in the first place.

When Yoongi reaches Jeongguk’s building, he realizes that it’s a university owned building and that someone has to have a key swipe in order to even the building, but that he can press an intercom button and buzz up to Jeongguk’s room. So with a pounding heart, Yoongi key’s in Jeongguk’s room number and waits with bated breath for Jeongguk, or even Taehyung, to answer.

When after a few seconds he doesn’t get an answer he tries again. And again. And again, and again, and again-

“Hello?” a sleepy voice answers and even though Yoongi is one giant ball of nerves and stress, he almost melts in endearment at how cute Jeongguk is and realizes how long it’s been since he’s heard Jeongguk’s voice, “It’s really late who is it?”

Yoongi takes in a deep breath before pressing the button again and saying into the intercom, “It’s- it’s me.”

There’s no answer, just static so Yoongi clarifies, “It’s Yoongi.”

He still doesn’t get a response and Yoongi heart sinks, beating dully in his chest as he thinks about how Jeongguk could look, pissed off and adorable probably.

When Jeongguk doesn’t say anything, Yoongi assumes he’s gone back to bed. But, Yoongi has three dozen cookies in his hand and no dignity left, so he presses the button on the intercom again and word vomits.

“Look, I know I’m probably the last person you ever want to talk to again and I don’t blame you. If you had said those- those horrible words to me I would do the same thing. I- fuck, I probably should have wrote this down so it sounds better but Jeongguk- Jeongguk I’m so fucking sorry. There are not enough words in any language to tell you how sorry I am. I’m an idiot, I’m a goddamn moron and I thought things I had no right thinking when you had given me no indication that they were true because I’m the biggest- what’s another word for moron? I’m worse than a moron, whatever word that may be, and I-”

Yoongi feels tears well up in his eyes and he has to stop for a moment to catch his breath, starting to shake from a mix of cold and emotions. It’s almost March, almost his birthday, but spring has still been unkind.

“I just want you to know Jeongguk that none of it was you, that all of it was me, because I’m an awful human being who drinks too much coffee and doesn’t get enough sleep and smokes too many cigarettes and doesn’t know how to function as a proper human being with feelings. I left myself think too much and assume the worst and I took it out on you and you… you are the last person who deserved to hear those words. You were one of the few good things in my life and I couldn’t handle it, couldn’t handle having you so close when I thought- I’m sorry Jeongguk. There’s nothing more I can say, except please don’t think it was your fault, because it was all, all mine. I’m so sorry.”

Yoongi lets go of the intercom button to take in a shuddering breath and wipe the few tears off his cheeks. He doesn’t expect Jeongguk to say anything and Jeongguk doesn’t. There’s still static, meaning what Yoongi had just said as least made its way into Jeongguk’s apartment, but it could have fallen on deaf ears. Yoongi sighs, pressing the intercom button one last time.

“I- I have something for you. I’ll leave it on the steps and you can come get it if you want. If you do decide to get it, I hope you enjoy them. Good bye Jeongguk, you deserve the best.”

Yoongi smiles sadly as he lets the button go and places the box of cookies on the steps, staring up at the building for a moment before turning around. He hears the static cut out, meaning Jeongguk has finally cut the connection between them and it feels like the last time he’ll ever have any kind of connection to Jeongguk. It’s bittersweet, but like he had told Suran that time at the coffee shop, he had made his bed and now he must lie in it.

As Yoongi walks away, he thinks he hears the door to Jeongguk’s building open, but he knows it’s just his hopeful heart. Even if the door did open, it’s not going to be Jeongguk. It’s going to be some other kid, unaware of the heartbreak that Yoongi has caused two people. Yoongi’s never been a believer in fate so-

“Are these chocolate chip? I don’t fuck with any cookie that isn’t chocolate chip.”

The voice is gruff and laced with sleep, but unmistakable as Yoongi has dreamt about that voice more times than he can count. He feels his breath get caught in his throat and he’s almost afraid to turn around but he does.

Jeongguk is standing on the steps of his building, Yoongi’s present in his hands and open so he can peer inside, the red bow Yoongi had decorated it with dangling and blowing in the slight March breeze. Jeongguk is wearing a long-sleeved t-shirt and baggy sweatpants, hair mussed from where he had no doubt been sleeping, and his face is slightly shadowed in the dark. Yoongi has never seen anyone more attractive.

“I’m not gonna have a conversation with you half-way down the street, come here.”

Yoongi wants to say something, maybe call him a cheeky brat ordering him around like that, but instead he just lets his feet carry him back to Jeongguk. It’s almost like Yoongi can breathe again, seeing Jeongguk up close, like he’s taking his first drink of water in years. Jeongguk’s eyes are so familiar, his mouth doing that funny little quirk of his where he’s trying not to show his slightly too large front teeth as he smiles.

They’re quiet for a few minutes to take the time to really look at each other and even though Yoongi is sad that this is the last time he’ll ever get to see Jeongguk, he feels content, like they’re getting proper closure.

“So, I heard Taehyung really tore you a new asshole.”

Yoongi grimaces and Jeongguk laughs, sending Yoongi’s heart into a tizzy as he thinks of the first time he saw Jeongguk laugh. Now, their roles are reversed and Yoongi’s the one bringing a peace offering. This time, though, won’t lead to the two of them going up to Jeongguk’s apartment and eating themselves into a cookie coma. Instead, Yoongi is going to walk away and Jeongguk and Taehyung are going to share the cookies and they’ll never see each other again.

“Yeah, but I deserve everything he said to me,” Yoongi says, voice soft as Jeongguk sobers up.

“He told me you thought he and I were dating.”

Yoongi looks away from Jeongguk for a brief moment, feeling like an idiot all over again, but Jeongguk deserves the whole truth.

“I-I did. He told me how much of an idiot I was and he’s right, there was nothing that suggested you two were dating I just- just assumed because who wouldn’t want to date you? I mean you- you’re amazing, you’re so funny and witty and smart and I would be so lucky- no, not just me, anyone would be lucky to have the chance to date you so I just assumed you guys were which was not cool of me. I should have asked- no, I shouldn’t have, it wasn’t any of my business, but I shouldn’t have assumed, I should have just been content with us being friends and-”

Yoongi’s word vomiting again and he can’t stop himself, even as Jeongguk smiles and sets the box of cookies back on the steps before stepping down, right up into Yoongi’s personal space. Yoongi’s mouth clicks shut with an audible sound as Jeongguk slides his hands up and down Yoongi’s arms before sliding his fingers in between Yoongi’s.

“Seokjin called me,” he says softly in the miniscule space between them, staring down at their joined hands, “right after you left his café. Said some crazy guy had came in just before closing and had yelled at him that he needed help to make apology cookies and that I should expect a guy covered in flour to come calling for me. He wasn’t kidding about the flour, did you just dump an entire bag on yourself or what?”

“I’m not a good baker,” Yoongi says weakly, because Jeongguk is so close to him and he’s radiant in the moon light.

Jeongguk smiles at Yoongi’s comment, finally looking at Yoongi and effectively stealing every molecule of oxygen out of Yoongi’s lungs, “You said some really hurtful things to me hyung.”

“I know,” Yoongi whispers, hands tightening around Jeongguk’s.

“You had already made up your mind before even letting me talk and that’s not okay, you need to work on your communication skills.”

“I know.”

“You have to talk to me about what’s going on instead of shutting me out so we can work through it together. Our relationship won’t last if we can’t talk to each other.”

“I know.”

Jeongguk hums, letting go of Yoongi’s hands so he can slide his own hands back up Yoongi’s arms, “You smell different. Like mint. And cookies. Sweet.”

“I-I stopped smoking,” Yoongi stutters because he feels like Jeongguk’s face is getting closer, “and I’ve been chewing a lot of gum recently.”

Jeongguk’s eyebrows raise in surprise, “You stopped smoking? That’s amazing. I bet things taste weird now, right?”

“I mean, I guess?”

Jeongguk smirks, voice teasing as he says, “I wonder how I taste, hyung.”

Yoongi’s brain positively short circuits, Jeongguk staring at him with fire in his eyes.

“Why don’t you find out hyung?” Jeongguk continues, using the hands he has on Yoongi’s shoulders to pull Yoongi into Jeongguk until they’re kissing.

Yoongi is pretty sure the sound he just heard was himself and it’s embarrassing, but he can’t find it in himself to care when Jeongguk is smiling into the kiss, one of his hands slipping around to grasp at the back of Yoongi’s neck while Yoongi scrambles to clutch onto Jeongguk’s waist.

Jeongguk tastes refreshing, like Yoongi just drank a glass of water after brushing his teeth kind of refreshing. His lips are cool and chapped, the winter air having been rough to them, and he has half a mind to pull back to tell Jeongguk to wear more chap stick except he never wants to stop kissing Jeongguk. Jeongguk must feel the same, because they don’t stop. They kiss and kiss and kiss until Yoongi’s lungs are burning and he can’t feel his fingers from how hard he’s grasping at Jeongguk’s shirt and Jeongguk has let go of Yoongi’s neck in favor of digging his fingers into Yoongi’s hair.

Yoongi can’t remember the last time he’s felt like this and it’s exhilarating, pulling away from Jeongguk with a gasp as he tries to breathe, Jeongguk in a similar state. It brings Yoongi great satisfaction to see that Jeongguk’s lips are a cherry red and swollen, his tongue slipping out of his mouth to drag across them for a brief moment before he’s pulling Yoongi back in.

It’s an infinitely sweeter kiss, though it still makes Yoongi weak in the knees. It’s softer, a gentle glide of their lips as the savor the moment, and Yoongi feels that all is right in the world.

“When I first thought about kissing you,” Jeongguk says, pulling back a fraction so he can speak with their lips still slightly touching, “I thought it’d be like kissing a smoke stack. I like this a lot better.”

Yoongi lets out a breathless laughing, tilting his head so he can nose along Jeongguk’s cheekbone and place kisses along the way, until his face is buried in the crook of Jeongguk’s neck. Then they’re hugging tightly, Yoongi pulling Jeongguk as close into him as he can.

“I am really sorry Jeongguk,” Yoongi says into the collar of Jeongguk’s shirt, “I wasn’t just saying that to make you forgive me, I honestly have never felt so shitty about anything I’ve ever said before.”

Yoongi can feel Jeongguk smile from where his mouth is pressed to the side of Yoongi’s head.

“It’s okay- well, it’s not okay, they… they really hurt me. But I forgive you, because I really, really like you hyung, and I know sometimes you say things you don’t mean.”

Yoongi lets out a helpless laugh, kissing the side of Jeongguk’s neck before pulling away to look into Jeongguk’s eyes as he says, “I really, really like you too. Like a lot. Like a ridiculous amount.”

Jeongguk’s eyes curve prettily as he smiles, one that takes over the entirety of his lower face as he ducks his head to try and hide it. The kind of smile that he can’t hide because Yoongi wants to look at Jeongguk’s face for the rest of his life, so he tilts Jeongguk’s head back so he can get a start on that.

“You should come over tomorrow, after classes,” Yoongi says, confident that the smile on his face is nowhere near as beautiful as Jeongguk’s, “Holly has really been missing you.”

“He has, has he?” Jeongguk smiles, bumping his nose against Yoongi’s, “I’m sure he’s the only one.”

“Oh, don’t worry he is, with you gone I’ve actually been able to keep my fridge stocked without having to buy milk every three days,” Yoongi teases and Jeongguk laughs, leaning in to kiss him again.

“Jeon Jeongguk get your ass back up here! We have class in like six hours and I refuse to be tired because you wanted to make out with your boyfriend at ass o’clock! By the way, good job fixing things, dick hyung!”

Yoongi shakes his head in disbelief at Taehyung, who has his head stuck out of their apartment window while Jeongguk groans at him.

“He’s right, you should go,” Yoongi smiles at Jeongguk, leaning in to give him one last kiss, “Go get some sleep and I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“You promise?” Jeongguk asks, trying to make it sound like a joke but there’s an underlying fear that Yoongi picks up on.

Yoongi remembers once that Jeongguk told him he never grew out of making pinky promises, that he and Taehyung still use them to hold each other accountable for things. So, Yoongi sticks his pinky up and wiggles it until Jeongguk links them together.

“I promise.”

And because Yoongi is a liar in his core, he gives Jeongguk one more last kiss, before he forces himself to take a few steps back so he can usher Jeongguk back into his apartment. Jeongguk is all smiles as he collects his box of cookies and swipes himself back into his building, turning around to check if Yoongi is still watching. Yoongi is and waves, waiting until he sees Jeongguk disappear behind the door before letting out a breath and walks away.

Yoongi’s picks up a new habit beyond his gum chewing. Whenever he starts getting antsy, fingers tapping in an out of sync fashion on something for whatever reason, he kisses Jeongguk. Jeongguk accepts it, of course, because he accepts all of Yoongi, even if Yoongi doesn’t accept all of himself.

Yoongi likes his new habit the most out of anything, even if this habit might also send him to an early grave because Jeongguk is too cute even when he’s not trying to be cute.

“Hyung, I’m trying to finish this level,” Jeongguk complains, though the smile on his face gives away how annoyed he actually isn’t.

“Is beating this level more important than my sanity?” Yoongi complains right back, anchoring a hand on Jeongguk’s shoulder so he can pull Jeongguk into his chest and scatter kisses against the back of his neck, “Hyung is worried about bills, indulge him.”

“Hyung is always coming up with excuses and they’re always lamph,” Jeongguk mutters the last of his sentence into Yoongi’s mouth because Yoongi has turned his head so he’s no longer focused on the TV but instead focused on the heated way Yoongi kisses him.

Yoongi can hear Jeongguk’s character die in his game, but Jeongguk has long since stopped caring, choosing instead to twist in Yoongi’s lap so he better kiss Yoongi. Once Jeongguk’s character has finished his dramatic dying monologue, the only sound they’re left with is the wet slide of their tongues and Jeongguk’s soft moans each time he feels Yoongi’s tongue piercing.

“I’m so glad you agreed to get it,” Jeongguk says hurriedly into Yoongi’s mouth, trying to kiss him but also trying to speak, “I knew it’d look good but I didn’t think it’d feel this go-”

“Stop talking and kiss me,” Yoongi commands and Jeongguk does, tugging on Yoongi and Yoongi’s shirt until they’re laying down on the couch, Yoongi blanketed over Jeongguk.

In ten years, the threat of his friends nor the threat of lung cancer nor the threat of death was enough to get Yoongi to give up his habit of smoking. Yoongi clutched to his coping mechanism like a life preserve, trying to stay afloat in an unforgiving world. Then Jeongguk crashed literally into his shop and subsequently his life and Yoongi found himself in the uncanny predicament of wanting to better himself, not just for his own sake but for another’s.

The world is cruel and Yoongi still feels the twitch in his fingers, the need to feel the smoke in his lungs, but then he looks at Jeongguk and feels Jeongguk’s fingers between his and finds that Jeongguk is the only habit he needs now.

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