#you do have to know that in my head i always call nana the cheese lady and with good reason | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luvdsc · 4 years

Text

doing the bf tag with my bf.

hey, siri, does bf stand for best friend or boyfriend? (or both?)

pairing :: na jaemin x reader genre :: fluff / best friend + youtuber au word count :: 4,691 words warnings :: none playlist :: mean it (lauv & lany) ⋆ always, i’ll care (jeremy zucker) ⋆ fearless (taylor swift) ⋆ fingers crossed (coin) ⋆ cardiac arrest (bad suns) author’s note :: this fic is a tiny bit different than my usual writing because i emphasize more on dialogue than description in order to mimic a youtube video. happy birthday to this absolute darling angel! you have the biggest heart in the universe, and thank you for sharing so much of it with the world ♡ ↳ part of the not clickbait series.

Your subscribers have always wondered if you would do this type of video countless of times, and you never thought you’d ever actually record one due to the state of your love life (or lack thereof), yet here you are.

Unfortunately, the romantic department of your life still remains very much empty though. But lucky for you, so is your best friend’s. And that pretty much works out perfectly because he could stand in for your nonexistent boyfriend in order to complete the popular GF/BF tag (along with a hidden challenge that was popular by demand and personally requested by a certain friend with a flair for baking. Now if only the frantic butterflies in your stomach would settle down just enough for you to do it).

After all, BF could stand for either boyfriend or best friend, right?

It’s also no secret that yours and Jaemin’s subscribers shipped you two together either. Heck, you may be a little delusional as well because you ship yourself with your best friend, too. Blame the massive crush you’ve been secretly harboring. But two best friends sharing an apartment and frequently appearing in videos on each of your respective channels? In the eyes of your fans, that’s basically the perfect setup for a modern day love story.

It would 100% be the greatest love story since Kat and Patrick in 10 Things I Hate About You, but at this point in your life, your story is going to be marked down as a tragedy. You feel even more hopeless and dramatic than Romeo was about his unrequited love for Rosaline. Also, that dude got over her way too quickly at the sight of another pretty girl. You wish that would happen for you, too, but your heart is much too stubborn over Jaemin.

When you had asked him if he would do the video with you, Jaemin immediately agreed much to your initial surprise. The publicity would be good though, you surmise later on, and both our fan bases would grow, so of course, he would agree. It’s not like your best friend liked you back. That would be absolutely absurd.

“Are you ready?” Jaemin speaks up, breaking your train of thought, and you’re slightly startled. He plops down in the plush pink rolling chair next to you, the chair moving back a few inches. He scooches it closer to your own chair, buzzing with excitement. You smile at your best friend, pushing down the butterflies erupting in your stomach. You nod before reaching forward and pressing the record button on the camera set up in front of you. You pull up the list of questions on your phone.

“Yeah, let's do this.”

How did we meet?

“Oh, this is an easy question,” Jaemin says, flashing his award winning smile at the camera before he throws his arm around you happily, hugging you affectionately. “It was freshman year. You ran into me. Literally. We were in the same class, and it just ended. You were trying to shove your textbook into your bag and didn’t notice where you were walking until you face-planted into my back.”

The memory is still fresh in your mind, and you remember how you had already resigned yourself to your fate of becoming good friends with the floor. But Lady Luck was on your side for once, and she sent an angel in the form of Na Jaemin to save you from embarrassment on your first day of university.

“Yeah, I almost fell flat on my butt, but luckily, Nana has great reflexes and when he turned around, he grabbed my arm before I hit the ground,” you add on, still squished into his side. He beams, eyes crinkling into half moon crescents before placing a kiss on your cheek and turning back to the camera.

Your heart skips a beat, but you ignore it. Jaemin has always been affectionate, and kisses were all in good fun. You continue on, plastering a nonchalant smile on your face. “And he said, ‘Looks like you just fell for me.’ And then he insisted that we get lunch together.”

“And the rest is history!” he exclaims happily, resting his cheek on the top of your head. You smile fondly before going onto the next question.

Where was our first date?

“The dining hall immediately after you ran into me.”

“That wasn’t a date,” you interject. “We can skip this question since we aren’t dating.”

Jaemin shrugs, waiting for you to read the next question. He murmurs faintly under his breath, “It was supposed to be one.”

We’re going out to eat, where are we going?

Jaemin answers immediately, leaning back in his chair. “The little pizza place down the block! They always make three different types of unique pizza everyday, and once they sell out, they close for the day.”

“We always go on Wednesday because they make both of our favorite pizzas then.” You chime in, and he nods enthusiastically, moving closer to the front and throwing his hands up in the air for emphasis. “They have corn and potato pizza that day!”

You wrinkle your nose slightly before leaning towards the camera. “To my subscribers, for the record, I assure you that I have better taste than that, and I love the artichoke pesto pizza with ricotta.”

What food do I dislike?

“... Corn and potato pizza,” he says reluctantly with a pout. “And kiwis. The outside is furry and creeps you out, and the fruit makes your tongue itch.”

You flash a thumbs up at the camera, and your best friend grins, puffing up his chest. Chuckling quietly, you shake your head before answering the question yourself. “And this dork absolutely hates anything strawberry flavored. And he’s lactose intolerant, so dairy is his enemy.”

“I love cheese, but cheese hates me,” he says mournfully, hanging his head down low before he jumps back up and reads the following question listed on your phone’s screen aloud.

Who is my best friend?

“Me!” Jaemin shouts gleefully, throwing his hands up in the air, and you can’t help but laugh, grinning widely at your best friend, a fond expression on your face.

“You.”

Am I a morning person or a night person?

“We’re both night people,” you say, and Jaemin nods in agreement. “You won’t catch either of us waking up before noon if we can’t help it, and we each have to set up like five alarms just to wake up.”

“It works out because we can stay up together watching movies or editing our videos,” he adds in, turning to you and smiling fondly. “And I always have a partner when I want to go on a midnight snack run to the convenience store nearby.”

Do we have a song? What is it?

“Jeremy Zucker’s Always, I’ll Care.”

“That’s our song?” You’re surprised. You were going to mention one of the go-to karaoke songs the two of you liked to belt out on the top of your lungs after a movie and wine night. Jaemin makes a great Sharpay Evans when you both want to bop to the top.

“It’s the song that reminds me of you,” he says, voice growing softer as he reaches the end of the sentence. Curse your heart for melting into a puddle. His cheeks turn pink under your gaze, and he becomes uncharacteristically shy, clearing his throat awkwardly.

“Anyway, what’s the next question?”

What’s my nickname?

“Nana!” You reach out to poke his cheek, and he puffs them up before pouting at you. He reaches out and pinches your cheek.

“I call you ‘angel’ sometimes. It’s why your channel is called peachyangel.”

What's my weirdest habit?

“Jaemin eats way too much cilantro,” you state, swinging around side to side in your rolling chair.

“I do not!” he protests loudly, and you give him a blank stare. The two of you sit there in silence, not breaking eye contact until he finally relents.

“Okay, maybe I do. But you pour cereal before milk!”

“That’s not a weird habit!” You defend yourself. You are appalled at your best friend. Neither of you have ever woken up early enough for breakfast, so this has never come up before. If you would’ve known this in the past, maybe you wouldn’t be so ridiculously in love with him in the present.

“Yes, it is! Your cereal gets all soggy that way!”

“Only idiots pour their milk first!”

He clutches his heart dramatically. “Are you calling me an idiot?!”

“... So moving onto the next question—”

What do you think I’m talented at?

“Making people fall in love with you,” Jaemin blurts out, and your eyes widen at his answer as your grip on your phone loosens considerably.

“I—I mean, you’re just so approachable, and you’re kind to everyone. You care so much about everyone and everything. People feel comfortable around you, they always gravitate towards you, and you just— I don’t know, you make people feel loved,” he explains, unable to meet your eyes, and his cheeks darken. He fiddles around with the loose strand on his sweater sleeve.

Your heart swells ten times bigger and beats faster than ever. You wonder if Jaemin knows he has the same effect on everyone, too. You hope he does.

You wonder if he knows you’re in love with him and if he would love you back. You hope he does.

When was the first time you said “I love you” to me?

“Uh, we can skip this one, too,” you say awkwardly, but he throws his arm around your shoulder again, hugging you tightly. “Nope, not skipping! I have the answer to this one!”

He grins toothily at the camera before pinching your cheek for a second time affectionately. “I said ‘I love you’ when you showed up at my dorm and brought me pop tarts at three in the morning after I accidentally drunk texted you, instead of Jeno. That’s when I knew you were a keeper.”

“I did that because I felt bad about throwing up on your shoes at the party we went to the weekend before that,” you mumble, face growing warm when you remember your best friend’s drunken confession a few years back. “Besides, you were drunk. It doesn’t count.”

“Okay, fine, but we say it to each other all the time. The second time I said it was when you brought me chicken nuggets, and I was hungover, but sober.” He says, spinning in his chair.

“I can see the pattern now. You say it when I bring you food,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest with a fake pout. “You love food, not me.”

“That’s not true!” he exclaims, halting mid spin and facing you. He turns your chair towards him, moving forward to clutch both of your hands in his, and stares directly into your eyes seriously. “I love you.”

You inaudibly gulp, helplessly gazing back at him as you feel your face begin to burn, your heart speeding up in your chest. Jaemin grins, leaning back and letting go of your hand. “See? I love you!”

“Y-yeah.” You swallow hard, fumbling over your words. “You love me.”

What is your favorite thing about me?

“Your laugh,” Jaemin replies honestly, reaching out and absentmindedly drawing circles on the back of your hand as he looks at you. “Hyuck told me the other day that whenever I try to do something funny or make a joke, I have a habit of turning towards you for your reaction. It makes me kinda proud that I can make you laugh.”

You know that you’re stupidly grinning like an absolute idiot at this point, but you don’t care. You even almost forget about the camera.

“Your smile,” you answer, maintaining eye contact with him. Your smile widens when you see one appear on his face, his eyes shining brightly. “You have the prettiest smile, and I’m grateful that I’m able to see it everyday or be the cause of it sometimes.”

What film always makes me cry?

“Oh, The Lion King.” Jaemin responds automatically. “We both cry our eyes out at the stampede moment and when Simba tells his dad to wake up.”

“When we saw the live action version together, we brought along a ton of tissues with us, and he used almost all of them.”

What drink do I always order?

“Jaemin is crazy and always gets a venti iced americano with no water and eight espresso shots. He used to drink it six times a day until I yelled at him about it,” you say, shaking your head at the camera before glancing over at your best friend. “It’s seriously bad for your health.”

His lips jut out into a pout as he whines, “You wouldn't let me cuddle with you until I changed it!”

“It was for your own good! Plus, that drink tasted like battery acid!” You exclaim, and he sulks quietly before begrudgingly agreeing. You pat his head in consolation, and he grabs your hand, naturally interlocking your fingers with his.

“I drink it less now and with only two and half shots.”

If I could, what candy could I eat all day long?

“Chocolate,” you blurt out immediately. “Jaemin is a chocolate fanatic. But he’ll take anything with sugar. He has such a sweet tooth. He eats brown sugar when he’s bored. Even his boba drink has 100% sugar.”

“It’s as sweet as you.” Jaemin winks at you exaggeratingly, and you roll your eyes, turning your face away slightly to hide the smile that begins to spread across your face.

“Y/N likes matcha green tea Kit Kats.” He leans closer to the camera, peering into the lens in a serious manner. “If any chocolate companies are watching this, we are both open to sponsorships.”

If I could live anywhere in the world, where would I live?

“Here,” Jaemin says confidently, beaming at you, “You��d want to live here with me. And I want to live here, too. Because this is the bestest place in the world.” He hesitates, faltering for a moment before searching your eyes. “Right?”

Who are you to say no to that?

You smile at him. “Right.”

What am I deathly afraid of?

“You’re afraid of spiders,” he announces, “You make me take care of all the spiders in the apartment.”

“Yeah, it’s the only reason I keep you around,” you say casually, and he gasps, insulted. You give him a cheeky smile. “I’m just kidding.”

He scowls at you, lips pulled into a frown. “You better be.”

What is the first thing that I do in the morning?

“Jaemin is never awake before I am,” you inform the camera, crossing your legs. “I have to wake him up first if we go anywhere.”

“Even if you don’t have to go to an event, you still wake up early to make sure I’m awake, so I won’t be late. So that’s what you do first thing in the morning: wake me up.” Jaemin nudges your leg. “You always come into my room as a blanket burrito with your comforter wrapped around you.”

“That’s because I have to face the treacherous cold to make sure you aren’t late to your events. But you still end up late anyway because you drag me down onto your bed and refuse to let me go until we lay there for twenty minutes,” you grumble, pulling up your legs onto your chair and wrapping your arms around your knees.

“Cuddling is a good way to conserve body heat and start the morning,” Jaemin states, waving his arms around to emphasize his point.

“Really? Do studies show that it’s beneficial to cuddle in the morning?”

“I don’t know.” Jaemin shrugs, making a noncommittal noise. He smiles at you, causing your stomach to do flip flops and your heart to do cartwheels. “But it makes me happy every morning, so I’d say that’s enough proof.”

Who usually wins our arguments?

“Y/N does,” Jaemin sighs heavily, leaning back against his chair in resignation. “You always win.”

“It’s true.” You nod, patting Jaemin’s arm consolingly. “It’s tough always being right, but someone has to do it.”

“You always pout, too, and I just give in because you’re too cute,” he says casually, and you freeze in your seat. Never mind the fact that he’s implying you’re wrong, Na Jaemin just called you cute.

Good thing this is caught on camera because this means you can secretly watch this multiple times in private. And also cringe over your awkward reaction, but let’s not talk about that right now because once again, Jaemin just called you cute. You! Cute! Jaemin! Your mind is honestly short circuiting, and you can’t do anything, except nod and smile like a complete fool.

What do we usually argue about?

“Adopting,” Jaemin says solemnly. Eyes widening, you wait for a moment, but he offers no explanation. You lightly shove his chair, and he rolls a few inches away. “Nana, you can't just end it like that! You have to say more than that!”

Turning towards the camera, you hurriedly explain, “He’s talking about pets. He wants to adopt five dogs and name them after Jisung, Chenle, Jeno, Renjun, and Mark. And then he wants to adopt a snake and name it after Donghyuck.”

“She said we could only get one dog and the snake.” Jaemin scowls, slumping in his seat as he stares into the camera. “I can’t believe she isn’t letting me get five dogs. I love Jisung and all non-Jisung’s equally.”

What’s my favorite clothing item?

“It’s not even yours. You always steals my white hoodie. I haven’t been able to wear it for the past month,” Jaemin complains, and you have the decency to look a little guilty.

You play with the strings of said hoodie that’s currently engulfing your body, curling into yourself as you tuck your face into the sweater like a turtle. “Your clothes smell nice.”

“But we use the same laundry detergent.” Jaemin wrinkles his eyebrows, confusion evident in his eyes. “All our clothes smell like snuggles and cotton.”

“It’s not the same,” you insist, wrinkling your nose, and he shakes his head, lips curling into a smile. He reaches over and tugs the hood of the sweater over your head playfully.

“Okay, whatever you say, angel. You look better in them than me anyway.”

Where am I on a Friday night?

“You’re here with me, eating Chinese take out and watching Criminal Minds,” you answer, and he agrees, nodding.

“We just finished watching all twelve seasons on Netflix, so if anyone has any show recommendations, please send them in!”

What is my weirdest interest?

“Once again, my clothes,” Jaemin says, and you begin to protest but he wags his finger at you. “No, no, no, you don’t get to disagree! You hoarded like six of my sweaters in your closet. I bought you the exact same sweater for your birthday, but you still take mine!”

You silently decide that it is better to accept this defeat than correct him because you actually have seven of his sweaters and a few tee shirts as well.

Who’s my favorite YouTuber?

“Me!” Jaemin’s hand shoots up in the air. “I’m your favorite YouTuber. Next question.”

Your hands start to get clammy as you look down at the final question you have been saving for last. It’s been a good fifteen minutes, and the butterflies still haven’t subsided. If anything, they seem to have multiplied and transformed into a whole rampaging zoo complete with elephants and monkeys.

“Uh, are you sure about that, Nana? ShowMeTheMonet is really good. I also really like itsmebetch a lot.” You stall for time, staring at the last question until the words are stamped in your mind. “Dream Unsolved and Worth It are amazing, too.”

Suddenly, Jaemin is right in front of you as he spins your chair around to face him, frowning and complaining, “What do you mean I’m not your favorite? You’re my favorite! What kind of best friend are you? This is a betrayal! An insult! This is worse than Jisung not calling me his favorite! How could you do this to m—”

“Okay, okay, you’re my favorite! I’m sorry! It was a joke,” you interrupt, but he turns away from you, crossing his arms over his chest.

“No, go make a video with ShowMeTheMonet instead.” He sulks, shoulders hunched over. “If you like her so much, go be best friends with her.”

“I’m sorry! I’ll buy you all the chocolate you want after this,” you plead with him, placing your phone on the table next to you. “I’ll even buy you boba everyday for a week!”

Jaemin brightens up at that immediately. “Oh, yeah! I want some milk tea after this! Okay, what’s the last question?”

You swallow hard, nervously fiddling with the hoodie strings once more and shoving all the butterflies down to the pit of your stomach. Twisting in your seat, you move your chair and spin his around until you’re both facing each other, knees touching.

“‘Where and when was our first kiss?’”

At the immediate thought of kissing you, his cheeks explode in various shades of pink, the tips of his ears catching fire. He’d be lying if he said he hasn’t thought about kissing you daily. Heck, he had to stop himself from doing so earlier when you were burying your face in his stolen hoodie. It’s so unfair that you’re always so cute and looking so… so… kissable.

“I, uh, I don’t think I can answer that,” your best friend stammers out as his eyes dart towards your lips before meeting yours.

“But you got all the other answers right.” Your voice comes out steadier than you thought it would, and you mentally pat yourself on the back. Gnawing on your bottom lip, you pause for a moment, balling your hands into fists before uncurling them and asking hesitantly, “Should I help you out?”

“Yes.” He wonders how exactly you can help him out. Oh god, did he kiss you before when he was drunk? But you would’ve told him if he did that. What if he had ki—

A soft pair of lips lands on his.

You’re kissing him. Oh my god, you’re kissing him! Jaemin wants to jump up and shout it from the rooftops. His heart leaps from his chest, and he’s wildly cheering in his mind as fireworks explode around him before he suddenly remembers that he has to kiss you back.

And so he does.

Jaemin tugs you closer until you’re pulled onto his lap, a muffled squeak of surprise coming from you, and he laughs as he presses his lips against yours more firmly, hands gripping your thighs as you straddle him. Your arms loop around his neck, and your heart ricochets in your chest as you kiss him back until your lungs are screaming for oxygen and you have to pull away.

Jaemin positively beams at you, eyes sparkling as he leans forward and nuzzles his nose against yours affectionately. He laughs breathlessly, resting his forehead against yours. “Yeah, that was really helpful. Our first kiss just happened right here a few seconds ago. And now, our second kiss is about to happen.”

Your best friend closes the distance, crashing his lips against yours once more, and you kiss him back just as fervently, smiling against his lips as he does the same. Never in either of your wildest dreams did you think this was going to happen, but you sure as heck aren’t complaining, and neither is he.

When the two of you finally break apart, you bury your face into the crook of his neck, flustered, and Jaemin laughs giddily, cheeks flushed and eyes twinkling. He hugs you tightly to his chest before nudging you to look up at him. “So did I get a 100% on the boyfriend tag?”

“Yes,” you say, sitting up straight on his lap and grabbing both of his hands in each of your own, intertwining your fingers with his. “You got twenty five out of twenty five. Congratulations on your perfect score.”

“Technically, you did do the boyfriend tag with your boyfriend then, right?” he says slyly, squeezing your fingers. “Shouldn’t I get some bonus points for helping you do the tag correctly?”

You chuckle, failing to contain your smile. “Okay, fine, you get bonus points, too. You did an A plus job, Nana.”

“I’ll take those bonus points in the form of kisses.” He puckers his lips at you, and you easily comply, wordlessly leaning forward to give him one, two, three kisses.

Jaemin grins at you, positively delighted before he attacks you with kisses, peppering soft kisses onto your cheeks, forehead, chin, the tip of your nose, and everywhere else in between until he finally kisses your lips gently.

If this was a cartoon, there would be hearts floating around his head and shooting from his eyes. He leans forward again to kiss you one more time for good measure. You smile mischievously, tilting your head to the side slightly as your hands curl around his shirt. “Are you sure there’s nothing else you want for your bonus points?”

His eyebrows furrow for a split second before his entire face lights up. Jaemin carefully cradles you, picking you up as his grip tightens under your thighs. You let out a quiet squeal, wrapping your arms around his neck, as he stands up enthusiastically.

“Cut the cameras!”

One new notification: peachyangel uploaded a new video!

nana ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ commented:

I LOVE YOU SO MUCH ANGEL 🥺💗💞💖💗🤩💝💕💜🤧💖💘😭💘🌼💐🥺💖🥺🥺🥺

peachyangel replied: ily too baby 🥺🤧💖💖

insert goofy’s chuckle commented:

is this allowed?? there are minors here 😫 jisung look away

peachyangel replied: get your mind out of the gutter, ya nasty 🙄 we turned off the cam because he wanted to go get milk tea

jisung pwark replied: I’m 18!!!!! Stop treating me like a child!!!

ghosts are real so suck it hyuck replied: @ jisung pwark stop making me cut the crusts off of your sandwiches then

big head king replied: @ ghosts are real so suck it hyuck how come you don’t cut the crusts off of my sandwiches 😭😭

ghosts are real so suck it hyuck replied: @ big head king because you are a grown adult and jeno already does it for you

jenojam commented:

congrats jaemin!! :)

Starbucks Official commented:

we would love to sponsor you, Mr. Na!

FIGHTING HAEYADWAE commented:

OH YOU ARE NANA!!1!1!!! 🤯🤯

ShowMeTheMonet commented:

um hello i would love to do the gf tag with you! i accept!!! it would be an honor 🤩

peachyangel replied: omg yes!!!! 🥺🥺 let’s do it soon 💖

insert goofy’s chuckle replied: @ nana ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ did… did we just lose our gfs 🤧

mork lee rawr xD commented:

hahaha nice guys ! this was really cute haha

ty track commented:

the babies are all growing up too fast ):

jeno is my favorite commented:

.... i feel so single @.@

DonutKillMyVibe commented:

let it be known that I was the friend who challenged @ peachyangel to do the challenge and hence, I am the reason these two are together 👀👀

ghosts are real so suck it hyuck commented:

someone should make an updated version of that jaemin complaining video compilation with this

big head king commented:

ayyy you all are the GOAT 🐐🐐🐐

jenojam commented:

so are we just gonna let it slide when he called everyone except jisung “non jisungs” ?

jisung pwark replied: 😎😎

insert goofy’s chuckle commented:

is no one gonna comment on how he called me a snake?????

ghosts are real so suck it hyuck replied: @ insert goofy’s chuckle is no one gonna comment on how much of a clown hyuck is???

insert goofy’s chuckle replied: @ ghosts are real so suck it hyuck wtf? where did this even come from

ghosts are real so suck it hyuck replied: @ insert goofy’s chuckle sorry I thought we were stating the obvious here

big head king replied: LOLOLOL

apado gwenchana god commented:

nice 😎👍🏻

3K notes · View notes

annonymouslyblonde · 3 years

Text

But Why Are They Blue?

Fandom: PJO/HOO

Pairing: Percy x Annabeth

Genre: family, fluff

Summary: Percy has to defend his precious blue food one weekend from his curious children. Short Percabeth family drabble

“Daddy, why do we always have blue pancakes on Saturdays?”

Percy looked up from the batter to meet his little girl's curious green eyes. Well, at least "little girl" in his mind who loved to remind him she would be a teenager in a matter of months. It was something he was definitely trying his hardest not to think about.

“I thought you liked Saturday pancakes,” he asked ladling the blue mixture into a frying pan.

“No!” she giggled pouring a cup of coffee for herself. It annoyed her dad that she drank coffee even if it was decaf at such a young age, which was probably why she drank it every morning with her mom. “Why do you always make them blue?”

It was a fair question. The tradition of Saturday pancakes extended far before the girl's time, and the ritual of making them blue dated even further back. When Percy and Annabeth first moved to New Rome, college had taken more of a toll on the couple than they initially expected. After winning two different wars and surviving Tartarus, midterms and labs should have been a cake walk, or so they thought. The first year was laden with stress-induced spats and mismanaged time. All of which led to Saturday pancakes. On Saturday mornings, the couple dedicated at least two hours to nothing but breakfast together. The scheduled time together did wonders for both of their stress levels. After that, Saturday pancakes became law. But none of that really answered why they were blue.

The question of color choice was a far more volatile topic. While Percy had processed the abuse of his former step-father, the topic wasn't one he intended to explain to his children. Gabe Ugliano had no place in his home or his life in any form.

“Well, one day when I was a lot younger than you, I asked my mom for blue food. Someone told me that blue food doesn't exist.”

“But that's ridiculous,” the girl interjected shaking her head of blond curls. “There are plenty of foods that are blue!”

Percy smiled at his daughter and pulled a perfectly blue pancake from the pan. Every day, she became more like her mother.

“Are you going to let me tell the story?”

She blushed, remembering she didn't have to always correct everything everyone said. Muttering an apology, she slid into a chair next to her younger brother who appeared to be asleep again with his head resting on the table.

“As I was saying, they told me blue food didn't exist. So do you want to know what my mom did?” he asked coming to sit next to the dejected girl. Timidly, she nodded her head, trying her hardest not to interrupt again.

“Well, your nana, she decided to make all of our food blue whenever she could! Blue cookies, blue pasta, blue soda, and even blue pancakes,” he listed and poked the girl in the ribs with each item, sending her into a fit of giggles. After the laughter died down, her mind started spinning again thinking more about blue food

“Technically, it isn't blue,” the child explained in the same factual tone as her mother. The shift to her lecture mode made Percy chuckle as he returned to cooking pancakes. “It's just dyed blue food. That can't possibly count. Besides, there are blue foods! There are blueberries and grapes. Some crabs are blue. Blue cheese even has blue in the name!”

“What about red,” her brother piped in, lifting his head from the table to chime in on the conversation. “I want red food.”

She glared at him with the same withering look Annabeth always gave Percy when he said something decidedly not smart. He could sense the fight coming as easily as he sensed an oncoming hurricane.

“There are plenty of red foods, stupid.”

“Isabel, don't call your brother stupid,” Percy chided with practiced ease as if he made this statement multiple times a day.

“Yeah don't call me stupid, Izzy,” the younger boy retorted sticking a tongue out in petulance.

“I told you not to call me Izzy, Samuel.” At the used of his full name, the boy leaped out of the chair putting his older sister in a headlock. The pair fell to the floor with a thunk each grapling for leverage over the other. As demigod legacies, both had been trained in hand-to-hand combat for their own safety. The skills, however, were typically used against each other rather than fighting against monsters.

“If you're going to fight this early in the morning, at least take it outside,” an authoritative voice rang into the kitchen making the siblings freeze. Annabeth leaned against the door frame trying not to smile at her rambunctious kids.

“Sorry, mom,” the pair chimed in unison. Both mother and father chuckled at their children as they detangled from each other. Annabeth wrapped her arms around her husband and gave him a quick kiss. Little Sam being only seven cried out in disgust at the display of affection, but Isabel cooed watching the love between her parents. It reminded her of all the fairytales her mom always read to her when she was younger.

“So what were we talking about that set off fighting before eight in the morning?” Annabeth asked as she snatched a crump from the growing stack of pancakes.

“I was explaining to your extremely inquisitive daughter where the tradition of blue pancakes started.”

“And I was explaining that since they are dyed blue, they don't really count as 'blue food,'” she smarted back placing air quotes around blue food. Annabeth snorted at the explanation remembering arguing the same point with Percy when they were Isabel's age. Ultimately, she had given up on the task of changing his mind.

“If dad gets to have blue pancakes, I want green ones!” the little boy exclaimed, excited by the idea of exploring different colored foods. “There's no green foods in the world.”

Mother and daughter met eyes before laughing.

“Sam,” his mother called softly. “There are definitely green foods in the world most of them called vegetables. You just don't like to eat them.”

“Well I want good green food,” he grumbled crossing his arms over his chest. Annabeth laughed at the small pout on his face and reached across the table to ruffle his dark hair. It was the same pout Percy would give her when he wanted something.

“If Sam gets green pancakes, I want pink ones with edible glitter,” Isabel demanded. Annabeth always wondered where the girly gene came from in her daughter. Dresses and make-up never came naturally to her, but her daughter was always playing dress-up and asking for some new lip gloss. Typically, she blamed the girl's godmother Piper for it.

Percy gave a long suffering sigh as he placed the platter of pancakes on the table. Everyone quickly filled their plates, eager to dig in after all the discussion about them.

“I'm gonna have to start making rainbow batter just to make everyone happy, aren't I,” he grumbled with a poorly concealed smile.

Watching her family sit together at a table laughing about colored pancakes warmed Annabeth's heart. The tradition had come a long way from their first Saturday morning of burnt pancakes. It was everything she could have ever asked the Fates to bless her with. Taking a bite of her own pancakes, Annabeth answered her husband's question.

“I want my pancakes purple.”

#rick riordan #the heroes of olympus #pjo fandom #pjo hoo toa #piper mclean #percabeth fluff #percy x annabeth #percy jackson #percy and annabeth #annabeth chase #percabeth #pjo fanfic #fanfic #hoo fanfic #blue food #blue pancakes

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mysweetestcreature · 4 years

Text

Purple Clouds and Tangerine Skies

Words: 24.5k

Warnings: Mentions of death...smut?

Summary: Why can’t two people who are meant for each other get it right?

***

They’re fighting again. All Y/n can do is shut her eyes in the hopes that when she opens them, everything will be okay. But no amount of wishing can drown out the noise.

“I can’t keep pretending like everything is fine! It’s not. You know it isn’t, Matt,” she hears her mother erupt between sobs. Lately, it’s been the same angry words shouted at one another over and over again. Y/n takes her baby sister, Ava, in her eight-year-old arms. She hugs the baby close. If she can’t block the screaming out, at least she can protect her sister from it.

“Grace, please.” It’s her dad’s voice. She’s never heard him sound so desperate. “What about our family? The girls need you. I need you! You can’t just walk away from us.”

There’s a sudden silence that follows. At first, Y/n thinks that maybe her parents have reached a resolution. Her dad has always been good at negotiating. It is his job, after all. She’s seen him in action whenever he brings her to work with him. Maybe he’s managed to work that same magic on her mum. She gently lays Ava down on the bed, creating a makeshift barrier of pillows on either side of her, before exiting the room and running down the stairs.

Before she can reach the bottom, she’s forced to a halt when she sees her daddy slouched over on the last step. His head is buried in his hands, his shoulders are shaking. He’s crying. That’s a sight she’s never seen before. He’d always been the picture of bravery and strength, but now that’s been washed away and replaced with someone who looks broken beyond repair. She doesn’t recognize him.

Where is her mum? She slips past her dad, despite wanting to throw herself in his arms for comfort. Besides his sniffling, the house is quiet. There’s no trace of her mum. It scares her.

“Where’s Mummy?” she asks meekly, turning to her father.

He doesn’t respond, but instead, he brings his hands out of his hair, and stares painfully at the door. Without thinking, she throws it open, the sun’s light momentarily blinding her for a few unhinged seconds. It’s only the screeching of wheels on road that brings her back.

“Mummy!” she cries, running as fast as her short legs can take her. Her eyes begin to swell with tears. The black taxi is still, and she’s just able to stare at her mum through its window. “Mummy, where are you going?” she pleads as she bangs on the door, but her mother doesn’t even flinch. Why won’t she look at me?

The engine starts up, and the car begins to drive away. Y/n chases after it, crying out for her mum to come back. “Don’t go! Please don’t leave me!” It picks up speed after it turns the corner. She feels herself slowing down, but even then, she refuses to stop. The distance between herself and the car becomes too massive.

“Mummy, come back!”

Arms envelop around her, and now she’s running on air. “Let her go,” her dad tells her, and she can feel his own tears against her neck. Her feet stop kicking, it’s like the energy has completely drained from her body. Her mind, however, is still racing.

***

A few days later, her daddy packs both hers and Ava’s bags, and loads them all into his car. She doesn’t ask questions, and instead busies herself with the fleeting landscape. A part of her had expected all that’s happened to be a part of some elaborate nightmare. But each morning, she wakes up to her parents’ bed left untouched, and her dad asleep on the living room couch. Ava is asleep beside her, and Y/n can’t help but think how lucky her little sister is to be living in ignorance. At three months old, she’s only just learned to hold her head up. Barely. Y/n doesn’t remember anything from that age, and maybe that’s a good thing. Had her parents always been this hostile towards one another? Had her mother done this before? What if she had? Does that mean she’ll eventually come back?

“We’re going to be staying with your grandparents for a while,” she’s taken out of her thoughts when her dad finally speaks up.

“Why?” She catches his eyes in the rearview mirror. They only ever go up to Nan and Gramps’ house during the holidays.

His fingers thump against the steering wheel, and he breathes in deeply as though to say something. It takes a moment before he answers her. “I just...I can’t do this alone.” His voice breaks, even though he tries to pass it off with a cough. “It’ll be good for us,” he says again. “You’ll see.”

When they hit a red light, he turns to look at her. He smiles weakly. No matter how much she wants to believe him, she still yearns for her mummy. It’s become especially hard in the mornings when her hair is knotted from tossing and turning in her sleep, and her dad can’t manage to tame it for the life of him. Her mum would often braid her hair, and like magic, it would remain intact all day. She always loved how gentle and soothing her mum would be as she brushed each strand with such care. That’s not to say that her dad isn’t trying, of course, but it’s just not the same.

***

Her grandparents live in a little town called Holmes Chapel. It’s pretty, she supposes. The buildings are a lot older, and the streets aren’t as busy as they are back home. She sits back and takes a deep breath. Her tummy flips a little when she thinks about how she might never see her old friends again, or her room, or even Mrs. Watson who lives next door (she would babysit Y/n and Ava whenever her mum had to run some errands).

When she looks out the window again, she sees Nan and Gramps stood on their front porch, smiles reaching their eyes.

“Where are my babies!” Nan exclaims, her arms stretched out. Her dad says a quick hello before opening up the back door. Y/n hops out, and her legs feel a bit unsteady from having been cramped in the car for all those hours.

“Hi, Nana,” she greets sadly. Nan’s smile falters slightly, but she doesn’t seem to let it deter her.

The elderly woman bends down to her height and gathers her in her arms. Over Nan’s shoulder, Y/n watches as her dad whispers something in Gramps’ ear. Although she can’t hear it, she can tell by Gramps’ reaction that it can’t have been good. “A bit peaky?” Nan asks, when she finally pulls away. She cups Y/n’s cheeks and presses a kiss to her forehead. “I just took the cookies out of the oven, actually. Let’s go check on them before your grandfather gobbles them up.”

Gramps groans behind them. “It was one time!”

Nan waves him off, guiding her through the front door with an encouraging push. “Oh, you won’t believe all the colors I bought for you at the crafts store yesterday! I know how much you love to draw,” she says. Her voice drowns out when she hears something fall outside. “Arthur Y/l/n! If you break another one of my pots, I swear to–” It leaves Y/n to wander through the hall on her own. Her grandparents’ house is quaint and orderly and smells vaguely of warm vanilla (probably from the cookies) and jasmine. The walls are covered in framed photographs of her daddy and his older brother through the years, a few of a much younger Nan and Gramps, and finally of Y/n, Ava and all of her cousins. (They live in Nice––her Uncle Brandon married a French woman named Dominique––and only ever seem to come around for Nan and Gramps’ anniversary.) Finally, below her uncle and aunt’s wedding photo, is her parents’. She tries not to stare at it too long.

***

Y/n decides that maybe spending time with her grandparents won’t be so bad. After all, her and Ava don’t have to share a room anymore, which means that she won’t be woken up by her little sister’s 3 am wailing fits. Nan’s done an impressive job decorating on such short notice, too. The walls are still plain white, but at least there are some pretty stickers of butterflies and flowers and a few of Y/n’s favorite cartoon characters. Even the windows are nicely covered with those gel ornaments that she loves to poke.

It’s all very nice, but she still wonders about when she’ll be able to sleep in her own bed, in her own house, under her own sheets.

“When are we going home?” she asks her dad as he tucks her in for the night. His hands stop in the middle of smoothening out her blanket, his eyes remaining glued to one of its printed ballerinas.

“To be honest with you, love,” he sighs, “I don’t know if we’ll ever go back...at least not anytime soon.”

“Oh.” That’s not the answer she wanted to hear. What if her mum does decide to come back? It’s still possible, right? After all, her mummy had always told her how much she loved her. She would scoop Y/n into her arms and twirl her around the room as they both laughed their hearts out. When she was sick, she’d always have her favorite tomato soup and grilled cheese. Every day after school, she’d sit down with her and help her do her homework and then give her an extra cookie if she didn’t complain.

Then another thought pops into her head. Her mum hadn’t been able to do any of that stuff recently. It had been like living with someone who looked exactly like her mum, but without all the warmth and tenderness that once was. Y/n turns away from her dad and starts to sob silently into her pillow.

Maybe she isn’t coming back, after all.

The dip in the bed from where her daddy had been finally reinflates. He’s about to wrap his hand around the door before she stops him. She calls out his name, sitting up with her arms around her knees.

“We’ll be happier here?”

His shoulders visibly relax, and for the first time in what feels like so long, he offers a sincere smile and nods affirmatively. She hadn’t realized how much she missed his smile until now. There’s something about it that she can’t quite describe, but she feels the safest she’s felt in a while.

***

Her daddy had left for the airport some hours ago. Gramps had offered to bring her along for the ride the night before, but she decided that she would rather not watch him leave. Instead, she pretended to be asleep when he came into her room and kissed her on the forehead. She knows he’ll be back in a few days, but it’s always tough when he has to go. It’s one of the other reasons they needed to move in with her grandparents, her dad has to travel a lot for work.

As soon as he and Gramps had loaded the car and driven away, she had stepped outside and sat down on the grass. That had been before the sun had totally risen. Now, it’s up high and shining its rays on top of her head. Nan, who had been surprised to see her granddaughter sitting out on the lawn so early in the morning, had asked her if she wanted breakfast, but was told she wasn’t hungry.

They’ve only been living here for a little over a week. She thought that they would’ve had more time to adjust before her dad had to fly off to wherever it is they’ve sent him. So far, things have been fine...or at least they’ve been as best as they can be. She tries not to think about her mum too much (she’s down to only once or twice a day). It’s a good thing that Nan and Gramps have a million ways to keep her busy.

Today is different, however. She’d had her daddy with her when she felt homesick. Now, she feels alone.

“Hi,” her head snaps up, and there’s a boy, maybe around her age, standing above her. He has messy brown hair that curls at the ends, his pleasant smile is complete with dimples on either cheek. It’s his eyes, however, that hold her attention. They’re like spearmint, if spearmint is even considered a color. Or maybe they’re the same shade as the stems of her Nan’s petunias. She can’t quite describe it, but she can tell that she likes them.

“Hi.”

The boy takes her response as an invitation to sit down beside her. “I’m Harry. Do you want a Freddo?” He pulls out a chocolate frog from his pocket. “My sister always eats chocolate when she’s upset, and she’s a girl, and you’re a girl, and you looked kind of sad, so...” He gives her a lopsided grin.

“I’m not supposed to take candy from strangers,” she says.

He––Harry––rolls his eyes. “I just told you, my name’s Harry.” He shifts a bit, then points to the house on the left of hers. “That’s my house there.”

“What if I don’t want to believe you?” she challenges, but she’s failing miserably not to grin at how utterly exasperated he’s getting.

With a defeated sigh, Harry shouts towards the house. “Oi, Gem!” It takes only a few seconds for a head to peak out of an upstairs window.

An older girl, maybe around thirteen looks like she could throttle him. “I’m on the phone, Harry! Bugger off or I swear I’ll––oh, no, no! Not you, Blake.” She disappears back into her room.

Y/n can’t help but giggle, and Harry turns to her, a triumphant look on his face. “See. Told you.”

Once again, he offers her the Freddo, but this time, she happily accepts it. They sit in a comfortable silence as she nibbles on the chocolate.

“I’m Y/n,” she finally tells him.

Harry studies her carefully. “Are Mr. and Mrs. Y/l/n your grandparents? Because I’ve been over there loads of times––she babysits me when my mum and Gem are busy––but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.”

She nods. “Me, my sister and my dad moved in last week.”

“And your mum?” he tilts his head.

Her teeth bite down on the inside of her cheek. She looks at him wearily before staring down into her lap. “It’s just us.”

“Oh,” is all he replies. He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. “My parents are separated too. My dad lives in the city, but I still see him most weekends.”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever see my mum again,” she frowns.

What he does next startles her, but she’s more surprised at how quickly she relaxes. He wraps an arm around her and brings her closer so she can lean on her shoulder. “Mum says hugs help a lot,” he says sheepishly, she can feel his eyes on her. She nods against him, and it encourages him to continue. “I’m sorry you can’t see your mum, but hey, you can always talk to me! I’ll be your friend.”

It’s her turn to look up. “You promise?”

“Promise.”

***

Y/n decides that she really likes living with her grandparents. Her and Harry are practically inseparable, spending the better part of the day together (and sometimes during the night when they have sleepovers). This means that she hasn’t cried in a long time, and she’s heard her daddy tell her grandparents that things are finally starting to look up. Her daddy looks better than he has been in ages, he doesn’t have that faraway look in his eyes anymore.

Harry usually comes over after breakfast, or even earlier when he knows Nan will be making French toast just the way he likes it. They play the entire day, a variety of games that range from hopscotch to pretend, to sneaking into Gemma’s room to dig into her stash of sugary treats because the girl has enough Freddo frogs to last her until next Christmas. He even likes to draw with her, even though she knows he rather be outside running around.

Sometimes Gramps will drive them into town, and they’ll go to the park or the ice cream parlor or their favorite Chinese restaurant. (She learns that she prefers shrimp over pork fried rice). There’s also a bakery that she thinks is the cutest place she’s ever seen. They serve all sorts of pastries and desserts that the owner, Martha, gives them for free when the rest of the customers aren’t looking. Y/n thinks that’s all to do with Harry. She’s eight, and she can already see how charming her best friend is. She’s glad that she has him by her side. He’s made her time here better than she could have ever imagined.

But soon enough, September comes along, and with it, school. Y/n would be lying if she said she wasn’t nervous. While she and Harry will be attending the same school, he’s a year older, which means she might not see him nearly as much as she’d like.

“It’ll be fun! You’ll see,” he tells her as they walk to school. “And we have breaktime, too. I can introduce you to all my friends, and you can introduce me to all of your new ones!” He sounds far too excited.

Y/n pulls on his sleeve, and he clumsily stumbles back a bit. “But Harry,” she whines, digging the toe of her shoe into the sidewalk. “What if I don’t make any friends?”

“You?” he gasps. “You’re like the most awesome person I know! Just be yourself.”

She doesn’t say a word, instead, she drops her head to look anxiously

“Come on.” He takes her hand in his. “I’ll be at the end of the hall if you need me.” And they walk the rest of the way hand in hand.

***

Harry drops her off at her classroom before going to find his. He promised he’d walk down with her for lunch, so at least she has that much to look forward to. When he disappears down the hall, she finally lets herself turn around to examine the place she’ll be spending the rest of the year in.

The desks are all perfectly aligned, with names of her classmates in bold and colorful writing on cards at the very front. She quickly looks for her name and takes a seat. On the board, her teacher’s name is artfully written in the center. Miss Ferguson. She must have been the one who had greeted Y/n at the door a few minutes earlier.

Y/n’s curiosity gets the best of her, and she starts committing every feature of the room to memory. The pictures of letters and corresponding objects and animals along the top of the blackboard are just like the ones from her old school. From her seat, she can see the playground, and she fantasizes about all the time she and Harry had spent on the monkey bars and hidden in the tube slide.

“Do you want to trade notebooks?” Y/n turns in her seat in the direction of the voice. Behind her is a girl with blonde pigtails and an adorable gap between her two front teeth. “My mum always forgets that I don’t like purple.”

Y/n stares down at her own notebook, which is pink with white polka dots. “I like purple.”

The girl grins widely. “Yay! You’re nice, I like you. I’m Penelope,” but as soon as she says it, her nose scrunches up in disgust. “But I hate being called that. So, just call me P or Penny!” Y/n gives a brief introduction, and the two girls trade notebooks.

“You’re new, right?” Penny asks.

“Yup,” Y/n confirms, fishing her pencil case out of her backpack. “I moved here at the beginning of the summer.”

“Really? I’ve never lived anywhere besides here before, but when I’m older I want to live in London!”

“That’s where I’m from,” Y/n says sheepishly. She hasn’t thought much about it, but when she does, she still misses it a fair amount.

Penny’s hands go to her cheeks as she gapes in astonishment. “That’s so cool! What’s it like? Have you ever met the Queen?”

Y/n giggles. “I don’t even know where the Queen lives!”

“Ugh, I’ve got so many things to teach you, then.” She and Penny make plans to hang out during breaktime and lunch.

Maybe Harry was right after all.

***

When the bell rings for lunch, Miss Ferguson’s class files out of the room in a somewhat straight-file line. Y/n walks behind Penny, her new friend is explaining all the proper ways to curtsy in front of a prince when a hand reaches out and tugs on the back of Y/n’s collar.

She spins around, ready to thwack the whomever it might be. “I leave you for a few hours and you’ve already forgotten about me?” Harry smirks.

“You just surprised me, that’s all,” she says. She’s fallen to the back of the line now. Penny stays back too and walks over to the two of them. “Harry, this is Penny! She’s in the same class.”

Penny’s eyes nearly bug out of her head and her cheeks flush a shade of pink. “Hi-hi,” she stutters. Y/n stares at her for a moment, unsure where this sense of shyness has suddenly come from. She shakes her head, it’s probably just a draft from an open window.

“Hi, Penny,” Harry returns kindly. He then turns back to Y/n. “Let’s go down to the cafeteria. I’m starving!”

“Yeah! Let’s go!” Penny says, sounding much more like herself. Y/n walks in between them, feeling content.

***

By the time she’s fifteen, Y/n has all she can ever ask for. Her dad doesn’t travel as much anymore, except for trips to the London office once a month, he’s able to work from Manchester. Ava’s seven now, and therefore able to cause all sorts of mischief. In fact, just last night, she’d eaten the entire leftover cake in the fridge when the rest of the family had gone to bed. She claims it was a ghost, but the frosting smeared across her face told everyone otherwise.

Penny’s practically moved in with them. Things at home aren’t always the best for her. Her mum usually spends the days drinking, the nights clubbing, and the early hours of the morning in some stranger’s bed. As for her dad, Penny doesn’t bring him up much. He decided to reconcile with his wife when Penny was three years old, leaving her and her mother penniless and alone. And well, she hasn’t spoken to him since.

Finally, there’s Harry. He’s still her funny, sweet, and incredibly cute best friend. He’s sixteen now, far more mature than her. While they still spend loads of time together, he has his friends, and she has hers. Although, he does still come around for breakfast on the weekends––Nan’s French toast is still his most favorite thing on the planet––and they usually spend the rest of the time catching up on homework and watching movies they’ve already seen a million times. She loves how she’s never bored when she’s around him. They could be laying on the grass outside her house (much like they usually do) for hours, talking about nothing and everything, and still never run out of things to talk about.

Except in the last few months. The thing is, Harry’s got himself a girlfriend, Lia, and she doesn’t like Y/n. There’s no logical explanation as to why, but whenever Y/n tries to talk to Harry at school, Lia slips her arms around him, like she’s claiming what’s hers, and glares at her until she has no choice but to retreat. She doesn’t have the heart to tell Harry that his first serious girlfriend is a total bitch, no matter how much she wants to.

It’s a Friday night, Penny is staying over. She’s lazily flipping through last month’s edition of Vogue on Y/n’s desk.

“Have you ever been in love?” she asks.

“We’re fifteen. It’s not like there’s been much opportunity,” Y/n chuckles. She glances up momentarily from her sketchbook. If there’s a punchline, it never comes. She then gives her a look. “Why, have you?”

Penny shrugs. “Sometimes I think I am, but it doesn’t really matter. He’d never see me like that.”

Y/n doesn’t respond to this. She’s heard stories about the boy Penny’s apparently fancied for ages now, but for some reason her friend refuses to give her a name. If she had to guess, it’s probably Bobby Baker from her French class. They dated for a few months when they were fourteen, but things had ended abruptly. Sometimes she’ll see them talking between classes and while in line for lunch. Her money’s definitely on Bobby.

Not wanting to press her for details, however, Y/n changes the topic. “Harry’s probably in love with Lia. I saw them snogging at the bust stop this morning.”

Penny groans. “They’re so gross!” she pretends to gag. “Oh, Harry. You’re so handsome! Kiss me before our lips dry out! Oh, Lia, you’re so pretty. Take this flower as a sign of my undying affections!” She imitates them, doing it so flawlessly.

They share a look, and suddenly, they’re balled over in fits of laughter.

“How do they even breathe?” Y/n wheezes into her pillow. It’s not to say that she hasn’t kissed a boy before. It’s just never been as intense––or as nauseating––as that. Besides, none of her boyfriends have last long enough. Harry says that it’s all for the best, according to him, none of them are good enough for her.

“They’re twos, you’re a total ten,” he had said to her once. She pretended not to feel her heart leap at the compliment. “A ten can’t go any lower than maybe a seven.” She wanted to say that she thought he was a ten, too, but was too embarrassed to say it.

***

Penny leaves early the next morning, but first helping herself to some of the food Nan had just prepared before zipping out the door. She leaves Y/n half asleep and barely functional.

“So, what’s the gossip?” Nan teases her, pouring her a cup of tea.

“Same old, same old,” she yawns. She breathes in the steam from her mug and smiles.

Nan places a plate of French toast in front of her. “Talking about the same old things until three in the morning? If only your grandfather and I could stay up that late. Of course, we’d be doing other things that decidedly aren’t–” she pauses, and Y/n’s never been more thankful. They both turn towards the back door. “Ah, and I was just beginning to worry.”

Harry mutters a sleepy good morning, then stumbles into the seat beside Y/n. He looks at her breakfast, then looks at her. As if they can communicate silently, Y/n pushes her plate towards him.

“Harry, dear,” Nan starts, making up a new plate for her granddaughter. “How does your mum feel about you spending so much time here?”

“She’s fine with it,” he says, mouth full of bread. “As long as I bring her back some food, she says I can spend as much time here as I want.”

Nan just rolls her eyes. “Will that be banana or blueberry then?”

“Hmm...” Harry pretends to mull over the options, but Nan knows better. Y/n watches with amusement as she places both bananas and blueberries on top of the French toast, then places it on a disposable plate and wraps it with tinfoil.

She turns to them. “I’m just going to pop next door and give this to Anne.” Just before she can slide the door open, she calls one last remark over her shoulder. “Try not to burn the house down. We just had the floors waxed.”

Y/n continues to sip on her tea, and Harry hums happily around another delectable bite. They sit in comfortable silence.

“I feel like we haven’t talked in a while,” he says. He looks at her curiously. “Why is that?”

She has to bite her lip in order to stop herself from saying something she’ll regret. “Well, you know. I’ve been really busy lately.” From the corner of her eye, she can see how one of his brows shoot straight up.

“Busy with?”

“You know there’s an art show happening soon. I’ve been spending all my time in the art room.” She knows she isn’t convincing anyone, let alone him. He can read her like a book.

But if Harry is thinking she’s lying, then he doesn’t say anything. “Right,” he says aloofly. Taking another bite of his––her––breakfast, he continues. “Lia’s going to have a few pieces on display.”

This catches her off guard. “Lia’s into art? Since when?”

He gives her a noncommitted grunt. “It’s news to me too.” He takes her mug from her hands and takes a sip. “But she seemed really interested when I mentioned you were participating.”

“Huh.” She rests her chin on her fist. That’s strange. She’s never seen Lia Hall set foot anywhere near the art room. Lia’s a cheerleader and spends most of her time cheering on the school’s football team, which is how she and Harry got together. Y/n would know if they shared any common interests. At least that way, she could talk to Harry without her grumbling bloody murder under her breath.

“What is it?” his question pulls her out of thought. She plasters a smile on her face and says it’s nothing.

***

Her bedroom window is right across from his, and they’ve been using it to their advantage since they were kids. When they both had bedtimes that were too early to ever enjoy the night, they would look out their window and find the other looking right back. They’d spend the night trying to make the other laugh with funny faces and their own little game of charades.

But as Y/n looks up from her half-finished essay and through the glass, she doesn’t need elaborate hand motions to know that Harry is pissed. She wonders if he realizes where he’s standing or maybe he just doesn’t care right now. He looks like he’s trying to stay calm, but Y/n knows him better than that. While he isn’t one to yell, his voice does get tight when he’s trying hard not to.

He runs a hand through his brown locks in frustration. She feels guilty for not having the strength to turn away, but she’s just too curious for her own good. If only she could read his lips just to get an idea as to why he’s so upset, but alas, that’s never been her talent. She waits, occasionally working on her essay (occasionally), then lifting her head back up to check up on him.

When she looks up after a stroke of genius that had promoted words to pour out onto the page, he’s gone. Her shoulders drop in disappointment. Oh, well. At least all she has to do now is proofread.

“Did you know your nan is making pot pie for dinner?”

She swivels in her chair, her eyebrow tilting up. “I did.”

“And you didn’t bother to tell me?” he pretends to be hurt as he falls onto her bed. “I’m wounded you would choose to withhold such valuable information from me.”

“I’m sorry?” she chuckles. Closing her laptop, she sits on the floor right beside where his head falls of the side of the bed.

He turns to her, his upside-down face grinning pompously at her. “Eh, you know I can never stay mad at you.” She thumps his forehead with another laugh, but he only continues to smile.

***

Y/n’s always loved art and how it can imitate life in the way the artist chooses. Ever since she can remember, she’s been doodling landscapes and portraits on napkins or just about any plain surface she can get her hands on. She thinks she gets it from her mum. There’s not much she can remember about her, but she does recall her mother’s love for the fine arts. And as much as she tries not to think about her, she’s happy she knows where she gets it from.

Mrs. Cuomo, the art teacher, says she has a gift, and Y/n tries not to let it get to her head, but she can’t help it! She’s already taken to looking for art programs around England. If she wouldn’t miss her family too much, she’d consider going abroad.

“Paris seems fabulous, don’t you think? I mean, they have some of the best fashion schools in the world.” Penny muses as they walk around the gallery. “French boys are a plus.”

“Is that where you want to go after college?”

“Possibly. I don’t know if I’d ever be able to afford it, though.”

Y/n nods, understanding her friend’s situation.

They continue to browse all the art on display, until stopping at Y/n’s exhibit. She has three paintings. The one on the left is an abstract portrait of Ava that she’d been working on since the last art show. It was inspired by her little sister’s fifth birthday. Dad had bought her the cutest little periwinkle dress with a grey ribbon around the waist. It’s something Y/n would’ve been over the moon for at that age. But Ava being the little rebel she was (and still is) had gotten it all dirty. Right before her party, she came trudging back into the house, a complete mess from head to toe. Y/n’s entitled the portrait Muddy Princess. On the right is a landscape of a forest with the simple name Serene Acres. Finally, the one in the middle is a sideview of a boy laying in the grass. His hands are behind his head and his eyes are closed. He looks relaxed, like he’s never had a trouble in the world. As do all her paintings, this one had started off as a mere sketch born from a vision that she suddenly had just as she had woken up. To be honest, she wasn’t sure if she’d make it anything more than that. But the longer she spent refining it, she just knew she had to take it all the way. There’s something comforting about him. This one in particular is Y/n’s absolute favorite.

“Oh, you’re totally going to win this year,” Penny enthuses. “I’m not saying this because you’re my best friend and I’d literally give you a kidney, but seriously. You’re golden.”

“I hope you’re right,” she says nervously. “Mrs. Cuomo said that the judges are going to be a lot more critical this year. I just hope they like my stuff.”

Penny waves her off, as if she were talking nonsense. “They will.”

“Will what?” A pair of familiar hands land on her waist, and she can’t help but smile when sees him gasp at the wall in front of her. “Woah,” he’s speechless. She pats his arm as she steps away from him, afraid that his girlfriend might catch sight of them.

“You like them?” she smiles. He nods, still unable to speak.

“So, where’s Lia’s display?” Penny asks, but Y/n can sense the annoyance in her voice. She knows all about the girl’s hatred of Y/n.

Harry stares blankly, until finally registering the question. “Oh...um. She decided not to enter, after all.” He wraps an arm Y/n once again, and this time, Y/n doesn’t bother pushing him off.

“That seems sudden,” she says.

“Well...” Harry looks left and right, like he’s making sure no one will hear them. “I guess she realized that she didn’t stand a chance.”

This makes Penny snort. “Are we talking about the same girl here? Lia Hall does not back down. From anything. I’ve seen her at the mall fighting over jeans with University kids. She’s scary as hell.”

***

She’s laying on the grass on her front lawn when Harry comes outside and joins her. His body is oriented in the opposite direction so that their eyes are aligned if they were to face each other. He doesn’t say anything more than a hello. His hands are placed on his stomach and his nose wriggles when a cool breeze brushes past.

“Lia and I broke up,” he suddenly says, but his voice is even and calm.

“I’m sorry.”

He laughs loudly. “No, you’re not.” He glances at her before facing back up. “I don’t have to be a mind reader to know that you two don’t get along.”

“At least I know you’re not dense.” She bites back a smile. Why is she so elated with the news? Does that make her a bad person? Who’s to say? “She was pretty awful.”

“She was hot, though,” Harry interjects.

“I suppose.”

Silence washes over them. If she were any more relaxed, she’s sure she could fall asleep right here, next to him.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”

“What?”

“The clouds, Harry. Aren’t they beautiful?” She giggles when he squints at the grey canvas above them.

“There are no clouds,” he says flatly. He turns his head, their eyes lock.

She swallows, and she’s the first to turn away. With a content sigh, she lets her eyes droop closed. Even without looking, she can feel the way his gaze lingers, like he might be waiting for something more. “You too,” it’s a gentle request, possibly an order. He’s never been able to deny her anything.

“Alright then,” there’s an amused tone to his voice now. He breathes deeply, his own eyes closing as the air leaves his chest.

They lay motionless for a comfortable few minutes. Things are quiet between them, and only nature’s melody that plays uninterrupted.

The wind whistles, and the leaves on the trees dance along with crisp and breezy movements. As the air––which smells strongly of fall’s fiery allure––rubs against her skin and tickles the tip of her nose, another blissful smile leaves a pattern across her lips.

“What do you see?” she asks.

“Not much, honestly. My eyes are closed.”

She punches his arm. “Don’t be an arse.”

He groans out in pain. “Fine then,” he concedes. “What do you see?”

The image is vivid in her head. “Purple clouds.”

He chuckles softly.

“What color is the grass?”

“Green, of course.”

“That’s boring,” he teases.

She huffs in annoyance. “Not everything needs changing, you know.” He doesn’t challenge it.

“And the sky?”

That’s her favorite part.

“Tangerine.”

“That’s a fruit.”

“and a color.”

“Why can’t you just say orange?”

“Because,” she starts in her best ‘you better listen to me or else’ tone. “Orange is a meh kind of color. But tangerine? It’s a bit more exciting.”

“Exciting,” he repeats slowly, as though he were testing the weight of the word on his tongue.

When she opens her eyes, fully expecting him to be looking at her as though she had two heads, she’s surprised to see that his are still closed. She finds herself studying him. The way his chest steadily rises and falls with each even breath. He looks as calm as she feels at that moment. It’s then she can appreciate just how handsome he really is. Of course, she’s known it for a while (but she’d never tell him that).

So, she turns her head back towards the grey-washed sky and paints over its gloom with an image of their own.

***

Right before he starts Year 13, Harry’s dad, Des, moves to Boston. Harry tries to act like it doesn’t bother him, but Y/n knows that he misses him a lot. Even though his parents have been separated for a long time, he’d at least had a good relationship with both of them. He and his dad would do “manly” things like fishing and batting at the cages. He keeps telling her that he’s fine, and it’s not like he’ll never visit him, but she can sense that something is troubling him.

It takes a bit of finesse to get him to talk, and once he does, she immediately regrets it.

“He wants me to follow him,” Harry says, scratching the back of his head. Y/n thinks she might throw up. Boston...America...it’s just so far away. The farthest she’s ever been is Italy on vacation.

She stares at him apprehensively. “Do you...umm...do you want to go?”

Harry doesn’t answer her at first. It takes to the count of five for him speak. “I don’t know. Probably not. I mean...it’s a lot to ask, don’t you think? He’s asking me to uproot my life here.” He gazes at her. “And I really like it here.”

She lets out the breath she’d been holding. She doesn’t think she’d be able to handle being that far from him. He’ll be starting University in the fall, and him going to London already feels too much. Goodbyes aren’t easy for her, and she doesn’t think they’ll ever get easier.

“At least both parents want you,” she doesn’t realize what she’s saying until it’s up in the air.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean...”

“No, it’s fine,” she shrugs him off. “It’s just, you’re lucky that both of them love you.”

Harry appears to think hard on this. “I love you.”

Her heart stops beating, her eyes double in size.

“What?”

He reddens, and for once, she can’t tell what’s going through his head. His jaw juggles back and forth, and then he coughs like he’s got something stuck in his throat. He wipes a hand down his face. “I mean, you’re my best friend, of course I do.”

Just as quickly as it had enlarged, something inside her deflates. “Oh, right,” she tries not to sound disappointed. It’s a little awkward now, but she’s at least comforted in the fact that he values her so much. She nudges her elbow against him. “Hey,” she quips.

He tilts his head.

“I love you too, doofus.”

***

Y/n’s always thought her dad to be a kind and fair man.

Matthew Y/l/n doesn’t spoil his girls, but he also knows how to reward them for a job well done. He’s also one of those approachable dads, the ones you can talk to about a crush without him getting overly protective. From when she was eight and until now, he’s always been there for her and Ava, and for that, Y/n is forever grateful.

Which is why she feels like she can discuss this one teensy little thing with him. Now, Y/n, she’s made up her mind about wanting to pursue a career as an artist. Some might say it’s insane! Risky! Financial suicide! But isn’t the threat of failure all the more reason to strive? She thinks so, and she just knows that her dad will too!

After dinner, which is when her dad is at his happiest. His belly is full of Nan’s roast, and he’s sitting next to Gramps on the couch while they watch sports. This is her chance. She’s already practiced on everyone else in the house, plus Penny and Harry, so she has a pretty solid plan on how to approach him.

“Hey, daddy,” she says sweetly, plopping between him and Gramps. He smiles at her and flings an arm around her shoulder. He returns his attention back to the telly. She gives Gramps a look, one so pleading that she thinks she might have just made him tear up, and he clears his throat and excuses himself.

“I’ve, uh, got to take a shit.” And he stumbles into the hall, Nan’s snorting following closely behind.

“So, dad, there’s something I actually want to talk about,” she starts, turning so she’s completely facing him. Matthew presses on the remote so that the screen is completely black. He prods her to continue.

Y/n chuckles nervously. No big deal. “You know how I’m like crazy about my art? I mean, I’ve won three competitions in the last nine months!”

“Of course, sweetheart. I’ve been telling everyone at work that my daughter’s an artist. You should’ve seen Anthony’s face when he found out you were the one who beat his boy out for the ribbon...”

“Yeah, thanks, Dad.” She can feel herself getting excited. “And I’m so proud that I get to make you proud. I mean, you’ve given me so much, I feel like it’s the least I can do.” On her lips is her most dazzling smile.

He eyes her suspiciously. “Okay, I’m sensing something else going on here. Spit it out.”

“Well, it’s just that next year is my last year of college, and I’ll be applying to universities soon, so I was hoping that we could talk about me pursuing art.”

“Pursuing art, as in...?”

“Dad, I want to be an artist.” That wasn’t so bad, right? She can see her dad’s face waver in emotion. At first, he looks confused, then maybe a little unsure, but then he’s just unreadable. “Thoughts?” she presses.

“No.”

Had she just heard him right? “What?”

“No.”

“But, Dad–”

“There’s little to no security. The odds of you even making a decent living out of it are practically one in a million.”

“Wait, just hear me out first...”

“I’ve heard enough, Y/n. You’re not going to throw away an education on a hobby.” He sighs, and for a moment, he looks almost guilty. “Look, I’m not telling you to never paint again. I’m just saying that you need to approach this from a more realistic point of view. How about you major in something more reliable––like business or nursing––then minor in what you want?” He continues to ramble on about different prospects, but she’s completely drowned him out by now.

There’s a spot on the rug that’s suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. Where had she gone wrong? He’s never been so forceful with his decisions before. Had she overlooked a portion of her speech?

“Mum loved art,” she whispers, but it’s just loud enough for him to hear.

Matthew stiffens at the mention of his estranged wife. “Your mother loved a lot of things. A lot more than she ever loved us.” And with that, he gets up and leaves.

***

“I think you should go for it,” she can always count on Harry to support her.

She sighs, burying her face in his pillow. It smells of coconut and lavender. After her dad had walked out, she’d ran across the yard and had tackled Harry with a hug while he was taking out the trash. He’d given her some water (God knows how hysterical she’d been moments prior) before leading her up to his room so she could calm down.

“What if Dad’s right?” she mutters. “What if this really is just a hobby?” She suddenly feels herself being flipped onto her back, his legs straddling either side of her, his eyes boring into hers like lasers. Thoughts flash through her head, and it crosses her mind that he might actually kiss her. But he remains still.

“Look at me,” he says. “You’re amazing, and you know it. I know it. This whole damn town knows it. If there’s one person I know can make it as an artist, it’s you.”

While his words do encourage her, she’s far more concerned with how close he is. She nods in acknowledgement, and he flops next to her. Both of them stare at the ceiling. She wonders if he ever feels what she feels.

“I got you something,” he says after a few minutes. He quickly turns and fishes for something under his bed.

“A present?” she doesn’t bother hiding the playfulness in her voice.

He kicks the side of her leg. “Grow up.”

“Can’t, I’m too excited.”

He pulls out a giftbag and hands it to her. “Saw this when I was out with Mum and well, it reminded me of you.”

Peeking into the bag, she immediately smiles. “Is this...is this a frog?”

“Yeah, because remember when we first met? I gave you a–”

“Chocolate frog,” she finishes. It’s a plush toy the size of a basketball and its body is the same colors as their special world. Harry must’ve picked it out because of it. He’s always been thoughtful like that. It shouldn’t surprise her, but whenever he remembers these little things, she can’t help but feel weak at the knees. She and hugs her new frog to her chest. “It’s so cute! Oh, what should we name it?”

“Well, I feel like there’s only one appropriate name for it,” he winks.

“Kaleidoscope?”

“That...that wasn’t even close to what I was going to say.”

She giggles, reaching over and bringing him in for a hug. “I’m just messing with you! We’ll obviously be calling him Freddo.” She sighs happily when his arms hold on to her tightly. Yeah, she likes his hugs a lot.

***

It’s the middle of March when Harry’s cousin comes to live with him. Jared is about his age, with the same shade of brown hair, only his is straight as opposed to Harry’s mess of wavy curls. Harry had told her that Jared’s mother (Anne’s sister, Sonya) had just passed away after her battle with cancer, and Y/n’s heart broke for the boy she barely knows. Similar to Penny’s situation, Jared’s dad isn’t in the picture. He’d left him and his mum before he was even born, and according to Harry, Jared’s always been very bitter about it.

Jared doesn’t leave his room much, only for school and for meals. Harry’s the only person he talks to because he wants to, not because he has to. They were practically like brothers before Jared had moved away, which Y/n is surprised to hear since she’s never heard of him before. But apparently when they were kids––way before Y/n moved in next door––Jared and his mum would always come over Harry’s house, and they’d play until one of them had to be forcibly dragged away. She had laughed when Harry had told her the story of how he and Jared had gotten stuck in the tree out back for five hours because the adults were so busy chatting inside.

Sometimes Y/n will stop by and personally offer him some of Nan’s famous chocolate pie, and he’ll accept it only to give it to Harry once she leaves. Of course, she knows it’s nothing personal against her, it just makes her sad that she can’t help someone who is so important to her best friend. It’s hard for her to see Harry worry so much about him, and she really is trying her hardest to help him out. She doesn’t think Jared hates her, if anything, she always catches him staring at her in the halls when he thinks she doesn’t notice. That’s a promising sign, right?

“I happen to think he’s very good looking,” Penny tells her as they walk to Physics. “He kind of reminds of a young Leo.”

“You said the same thing about Harry last week,” Y/n giggles.

“They’re related, aren’t they? Maybe beautiful genes run in the family.”

Penny looks at her. “What do you think?”

She stares back at her. “About?”

“You know, Jared!”

Y/n’s lips purse together. She hadn’t given him much thought, honestly.

***

She’s glued to her sketchpad while sitting on the front lawn when she notices a shadow approach her. Not bothering to look up, she pats the spot beside her.

“Nan says that the pudding will be ready in ten,” she says.

“That’s...cool.” That’s not Harry.

Tearing her eyes away from her latest drawing, she turns her head and sees the last person she expected. “Jared! Hi!” she squeaks.

He offers her a side grin. “Hey,” is all he says. He looks down into her lap. “You’re really good.”

“Oh, thank you.”

He rubs his hands on his jeans before settling them around his ankles. “Uh...do you mind if I sit here with you? You can say no, I was just feeling a little stuffed up in–”

“Of course! I love company!” she smiles broadly.

“I don’t know, you and that pencil were looking pretty cozy,” he suggests. She quirks a brow at him, but when the signs of a smirk begin to change the way his eyes gleam, she finally gets it.

“Jesus, that’s disgusting!” She doesn’t hesitate to slap him over the head. He sniggers in return but doesn’t say much more after that. Y/n continues to draw, but occasionally she’ll look up and catch him watching her. He immediately turns away, pretending to be busy with a blade of grass, or he’ll start whistling like it’s a sitcom.

***

It doesn’t take long before Jared finally opens up to her. He’s funny––really funny, even though most of his humor is dirty––and is constantly finding ways to make Y/n laugh. She’s found that he does a nearly perfect impression of Austin Powers, and she enjoys it very much. There are also certain angles that really highlight how handsome he is. His eyes are a deep brown, almost the same shade as his hair. There are freckles evenly spread around his nose, almost as if they’d been specifically placed there. And oh, his lashes! They’re just as long as Harry’s, except maybe even fuller. She imagines what they would look like with a fresh coat of mascara. (She jokingly brought up the idea once, and to her delight, Jared says he wouldn’t mind it one bit.)

Harry seems happy that his cousin appears to be back to his old, goofball self. He’s definitely not as stressed over trying to get Jared out of his room as he had been in the immediate weeks after his Aunt Sonya’s death. Even Anne is starting to smile more. Losing her sister had been difficult for her, but Y/n admires how she had stepped up and took her nephew in without hesitance. She’s almost positive that that’s where Harry gets his selflessness from.

“Okay, real question, would you rather give up all desserts or all cheeses?” Jared asks. He always plays this game with her. She thinks it’s cute, sometimes even thought-provoking if she’s really into it.

“Hmm, that’s a tricky one. Because what about–”

Both their eyes grow wide. “Cheesecake!”

Her head falls onto his shoulder as she laughs. She doesn’t see how Harry turns away. Although, sometimes she’ll notice how he’ll have this weird look in his eyes whenever the three of them are all hanging out together, but she thinks she’s just imagining it.

***

When Penny tells her that Jared might like her, she doesn’t totally object to the idea.

***

A few days later, Jared kisses her. It’s one of those kisses that happen when you least expect it. She’s frozen in shock until his lips pull away. It’s strange, she likes the feeling, but something seems amiss. He looks at her nervously, like he’s afraid he’s done something completely wrong. But when she finally manages to get over that initial uncertainty, a grin slowly forms on her lips, and he’s kissing her again.

***

In two weeks’ time, she sees Harry snogging Penny outside his front door. She isn’t sure how to react, but she knows there’s this weird feeling inside of her that she doesn’t like.

***

Her and Harry haven’t spoken more than a few words to each other since they started dating other people. It’s not that she doesn’t want to talk to him, in fact, she really misses him. Saturday morning breakfasts just aren’t the same without him shuffling into the kitchen in his half-asleep state. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think he was going out of his way to avoid her. Penny says that maybe he’s just feeling awkward because her two best friends are dating. (It turns out Harry had been the guy she’d been pining over for years.)

Maybe that’s true, but shouldn’t that make it easier for them to find themselves in the same room? She’s happy that Penny’s finally happy! Things hadn’t worked out with her last two boyfriends because all they wanted was to take advantage of her. If there’s one thing she’s sure about, it’s that Harry would never cross any lines that Penny hadn’t invited him to cross.

When they’re in Harry’s car, she’ll catch glimpse of how Harry takes Penny’s hand over the console, or how she’ll feed him fries from their takeaway. It makes her happy to see them like this. Really, it does.

Jared is just as much a gentleman, too. They haven’t done anything past snogging, and she’s okay with that. She isn’t even sure she’s ready for that type of commitment. It’s not like she has this idealized fantasy about losing her virginity. She doesn’t expect it to happen in the same way as the movies, with candles and a bed full of rose petals, or any of that romantic stuff. If the time’s right, it’s right. All she wants is to make sure her heart’s a hundred and ten percent in it before she lets anyone in. She wonders if Penny and Harry have talked about going all the way.

“Yeah, we’ve talked about it.”

“Oh,” Y/n tries not to sound surprised. “And how did that go?”

Penny gives a noncommitted answer. “He says he’s willing to wait until I’m ready. But the thing is, I’m ready now!”

***

Penny loses her virginity soon after. Y/n is the first person she calls, and it’s a bunch of squealing and bragging about how perfect it all was. How gentle and attentive he’d been, and how she can’t wait to do it again. It takes everything in her to not hang up. She loves Penny to death, but some things––at least in her opinion––are left unsaid.

***

The first time she and Harry get to spend time together, as in just the two of them, is when Jared is stuck in bed with a cold, and Penny is out with her mum. It’s not exactly planned, in fact, she had only seen him from the living room window whilst helping Nan dust the mantel. Deciding she couldn’t let the opportunity pass, she drops the feather duster and runs out the front door.

“Hey, stranger,” she greets, but she doesn’t sit. It’s only now she sees the bottle of beer hanging between his fingers. He usually only drinks when he’s got something messing with his head.

He nods at her, and gestures to the spot beside him. She sits, but it feels to calculated for them. Usually, she’d plop down, not caring if their knees would brush together. Now, she’s careful to leave at least a few inches between them. And she hates how awkward things feel between them. In a matter of months, they’d gone from being attached at the hip, to barely acquaintances.

“So, what’s going on?”

He takes a sip from the bottle, his face twitching with disgust as he does so, then takes a deep breath. “Do you ever feel like things should be different?”

A sudden gust of wind lifts her hair over her shoulders. She doesn’t know if the goosebumps running down her spin are from that or the it’s from the magnitude of his question. “Different, how?”

His features soften when he finally looks at her. As in, really looks at her. It feels like so long since he’s done, that it takes her breath away. He doesn’t say anything yet, but she can see in his eyes that there’s something there.

“Harry?” she whispers.

His eyes drop down to her lips, and he licks his own in reaction. Nothing seems to matter at that moment. If her mind had been juggling with thoughts before this, it isn’t now. All she can think about his him. How good it feels to be so close him, and how she wants to be closer.

Then it hits her. Jared. She’s with Jared, and Harry’s with Penny. She’d been leaning into him, but now that she’s broken from his trance, she straightens up.

Harry brushes off his disappointment with another sip from his beer. His stare lands across the street, where a pair of children are chasing each other around a tree. He drops his head, his hand wrapping around the base of his neck.

“I’m leaving for Boston tomorrow.”

She nods slowly. “Visiting your dad?”

He lets out a soft chuckle. “Something like that.”

Finally, he stands up, then offers her his hand so she can too. He doesn’t let go right away, and she revels in how good it feels. She smiles down to where they’re holding each other, then stares into his green orbs.

Pulling on her arm, she’s suddenly trapped in his embrace. She hugs him back, her hands sliding up to his shoulder blades and pinching his t-shirt between her fingers. It’s all a bit confusing, but she continues to cling to him. She feels his nose nudge the crown of her head before he lets go.

He turns around and doesn’t look back.

She isn’t sure what just happened, but it feels a lot like goodbye.

*** Ten Years Later

“It doesn’t feel right,” she sighs. “I can’t be the only one who’s thinking it.” He shuffles in place, eyes scanning the room around them. “What do you suggest then?”

“Take this to the empty wall by the entrance, then move the Reynalda exhibit closer to the back. It’s our main attraction, we have to make people work for it.”

Angelo nods approvingly, and she calls a thank you out to him as he gets to work. Y/n watches the rest of her staff disperse into their allocated directions, and it’s then she can finally take a moment for herself. Sometimes she feels suffocated, but at the same time so hollow.

There are so many reasons why Y/n shouldn’t be feeling as empty as she does now. After all, her life is pretty damn close to perfect. She graduated university with high honors, she has a well-paying job as director of a prestigious art gallery, and she lives in a beautiful two-bedroom apartment with her adoring fiancé who she’s been with for the better part of a decade.

She can’t pinpoint when exactly she realized that something had been missing, or maybe this feeling has always existed somewhere deep inside, and she’s just been really good at hiding it. The only person who knows about this internal battle is Ava, but Y/n doesn’t like to bother her too much since she’s busy with coursework, as well as her own problems that come with being nineteen and young.

Of course, there’s Jared. Her love. Her rock. Her other half. She doesn’t know why can’t talk about this with him. Maybe it’s too much of girl problem, or maybe it’s just guilt. The last thing she wants him to think is that he’s not enough to fill this void in her life. If anything, he’d been able to pick up all her damaged pieces when she just couldn’t. He’s great, more than. She depends on him, and he’s never let her down.

But if that’s true. Why can’t she just be honest?

***

“Right, I’m heading out now. I’ll see you–” he pauses, and she can see the concern overtake his features from the reflection of the blank television screen. He walks around their living room and kneels in front of her, his hands rubbing her lower thighs with every intention to soothe her. “What’s wrong?”

“I...I don’t really know,” she laughs, then shakes her head. “It’s silly, really. You go ahead. Go have fun with Sid.” It’s her best attempt at a smile, but it’s a weak one.

He looks at her unsurely, like he’s debating if he should protest or not. She kisses him gently on the lips.

“Go.” And she nudges him to his feet. Although she can tell he’s hesitant, he eventually concedes, leaning down for just one more peck to her forehead, then he’s out the door.

She needs to find a way to depress this strange feeling. It’s starting to affect too much of her life. A life that she enjoys, thank you very much.

Before she falls slave to her thoughts, she slumps into the kitchen to pour herself a glass of cabernet. Maybe it’s a far too generous portion, but is there ever such thing as too much wine? At least for tonight, the answer is no.

The alcohol burns her throat with its bitter sweetness, and she finds comfort in how it settles at the pit of her stomach. She breathes in deeply. This is just what she needs. It’s all in her head. Stress, probably.

Just as she’s about to rewrap herself in her blanket, the front door opens and closes with a gentle thud. She swings around, brows curling in question as Jared slips off his coat leans against the nearest wall.

“Sid will understand. You’re the one who needs me tonight.”

She leans against the arm of the couch, a moved smile playing at her lips because, wow. How did she get so lucky?

***

“I found another grey hair this morning,” Jared says. “Is this what getting old feels like?”

She runs her fingers through his hair. “You’re twenty-eight, Jae. And besides, silver foxes are pretty sexy.”

“I guess I’m a bit of a Clooney.” And he wags his brows suggestively. If he’s trying to come onto her, it’s not exactly working, but she’s also not completely turned off. This is why they’re good together. After all these years he still knows how to make her laugh.

They’re about a quarter though their takeaway (and she’s so touched that Jared decided to stay home that she doesn’t even say anything about the pork fried rice) when their doorbell sounds.

“I got it, hun,” he says, placing his plate on the coffee table, and grabbing a napkin before greeting the unexpected guest.

Y/n is pleasantly surprised when Penelope falls into the seat beside her. She looks dressed for a date, but the way she blows ferociously into the air, Y/n knows that things haven’t gone her way.

Without asking, Penny helps herself to their food, moaning as she stuffs a spoonful of that same fried rice into her mouth. “If I wasn’t wearing this dress, I would a hundred percent finish this whole thing.”

“You can borrow some clothes,” Y/n offers. Her friend pretends to contemplate, but she’s the first one to stride over into the master bedroom.

Y/n pulls out a fresh pair of pajamas, and when she turns around, her mouth quirks in a mixture of amusement and suspicion. Under Penny’s dress is the daintiest set of red lace lingerie she’s ever seen. (And she has her fair share of lingerie since she knows it drives Jared wild.)

“Looks like you were in for a sexier evening,” she muses. She tosses Penny the set.

Her friend rolls her eyes. “I’ll make sure he knows what he’s missing,” she says. Y/n isn’t quite sure what she means by it, but smirks, nonetheless.

“Now...” Penny pulls her hair through the hem of the borrowed shirt, “let’s finish off that food, shall we?”

Jared doesn’t say anything when they get back, either too consumed with his egg rolls or not wanting to interject himself into the conversation. Y/n simply kisses him on the cheek as she settles back into her meal.

She glances at Penny for a moment, and her curiosity becomes overpowering. “Okay, so I wasn’t going to ask, but I feel like I have to now,” she explains. Penny cocks a brow at her. “What happened tonight.”

“He cancelled last minute. I was already at the damn restaurant when he texted saying something came up.” She stabs a piece of orange chicken. “It’s a bunch of bullocks if you ask me.” Typical Penny. It wouldn’t be fair to say that her friend is prone to trust issues, but it does take a little more effort. Ever since Harry had broken up with her back when they were seventeen, she hasn’t kept a relationship for more than a few weeks because she claims she doesn’t want to risk getting her heart broken again.

Harry Styles had broken her best friend’s heart, then disappeared to another country. Y/n hates him for that. She hates that he threw away all those years of friendship without a proper explanation. She hates that he abandoned her, especially when he knew how insecure she is about goodbyes.

But not every guy is Harry. There are good ones that will stick by you no matter what, like Jared. Y/n reaches over and brushes his bangs away from his eyes. Penny just needs to find her person, and Y/n just knows that once she does, she’ll finally feel right.

“This is that Ahmed guy from the gym, right? I don’t know, Pen. He’s a decent bloke. Maybe something really did happen.”

Penny pulls a face, like she’s just oversaturated her food with soy sauce. “Wouldn’t hold my breath. He’s got baggage, and he won’t accept that he isn’t happy to carry it anymore.”

That last bit sticks to her.

***

Her job requires her to have both a deep appreciation for art and a mind for marketing strategy. It had been the closest compromise that she and her father had come to when she had started her plight for a degree.

After spending the last of her year of secondary school having second thoughts about the plausibility of making it in the art world, she decided that maybe her dad was right, after all. He would tell her to be in charge, to take control of her life. That way, she’d never be blindsided by anything. She’s still around the world she loves––the canvas, the acrylics, the community of dreamers who share their passion with the world––just from a more business perspective. The more she reflects on those naïve teenage years, the more she appreciates the direction she’d took. She has the best of both worlds, in her opinion. A steady income, and a building full of paintings and sculptures and history. What more can she ask for?

“Y/n!” She looks over her shoulder, where Angelo, her assistant, waves some a sizeable file in his hands. He gives her a knowing smirk.

“Good news?” she teases.

Angelo hands her the file. “Sales report can confirm.”

She glosses it over, satisfied with the numbers. Looks like she’d inherited more from her dad than just his advice. “And they said Expressionism was dead.” Their last grand showcase had been an ode to the German Expressionism movement. They had drawn criticism in the days leading up to the event because some saw it as outdated. But that’s just ridiculous. Art is art. And while history remains in the past, it doesn’t mean that it can’t be appreciated. Y/n’s vision for the gallery is embrace both the old and the new.

“Degenerates,” Angelo rolls his eyes. “Anyway, Dax, Narsi, and I are thinking Damond’s for lunch. You in?”

She looks down at her watch, and curses under her breath. “Can’t,” she sighs. “I have to interview the new curator in a bit.”

“You work too much,” he says humorously, but they both know there’s truth stitched into his words. He gives a friendly squeeze to her elbow. “Bring you back sandwich?”

“Please,” she smiles. He gives her a mock salute before turning on his heel.

When he’s completely out of sight, she lets her lips fall into a frown. She examines her watch again, there’s still a few minutes until their scheduled virtual call. She uses the time to stroll the halls, something she doesn’t really get to do. Well, not for fun, at least.

Things are currently in transition, and all of the Maximalism works are finding their way onto her walls. She stops in front of one in particular that just screams color. With its carefully planned, yet freeing mixture of patterns and textures, it’s a piece to tickle the brain.

“It’s beautiful.” Her eyes widen. That voice. She feels everything from her body to her unsuspecting heart freeze.

Her grip on her own arm tightens painfully. She thinks she might turn blue from her inability to breathe at this moment.

“I’ve always liked how much of the artist we can feel. It really captures the complexity of character.”

She bites the inside of her cheek. “I agree.” She risks all and looks up, and he’s right there waiting for her. Harry. Her arms drop to her side as she feels herself grow weak.

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “Hi,” he whispers, then smiles. That smile. She had tried so hard not to think about how it had once been her favorite image. His dimples have caved in deeper, if that’s even possible. And his eyes, they’re the same brilliant green she remembers. “I saw an ad in the paper and thought I’d check it out.”

Something must be strangling her vocal cords because she finds that she’s unable to make a sound.

***

“And what did you do?”

Y/n drops her head to the table, not even caring if it’s dirty. With the day she’s had, it’s the least of her problems. “I was in shock! I-I think I might have screamed at him.”

Ava snorts into her drink.

There’s not much about earlier that she can clearly recall, but she does remember how she had fled to her car and driven halfway across the city to her sister’s dorm and dragged her to the nearest pub. Why? Because she couldn’t think of anything else to do.

“Why would he just...show up?” she questions. “It makes no sense!”

“Probably got homesick,” Ava shrugs. “Plus, Dad says it’s been in the work–”

“Wait,” Y/n’s head snaps towards her. “Dad knows?”

The younger woman looks at her as if she were insane. “Duh, he’s the one that approved the transfer.”

“But why am I only hearing about this now?” She feels herself heating up with annoyance, anger, and something else that makes her want to pull her hair out. Ava doesn’t respond right away. She looks down at her now empty drink and watches as the ice cubes into water.

“Well,” she starts, still not bothering to meet her eyes, “ever since he left, he’s been a bit of a taboo subject for you.”

Her jaw tenses at that, and she sits back in her chair. That’s a bit of an overstatement. Y/n had reacted the way any person would have if put in her situation. She huffs with frustration. “So, what else is everyone hiding from me?”

“This isn’t an intervention, enough with the dramatics,” Ava says.

Y/n’s lips form into a straight line. She looks over the bar and tuts her tongue. “I need another drink,” she mutters. “Where the heck is Penny? She’s supposed to be working tonight.”

***

After Ava had started going to school in the city, her dad had decided to move into the London office full-time in order to be closer to both his girls. And lucky for Y/n, he’s just close enough to get information out of. She visits her dad during her lunch break because she needs answers.

“Dad, we need to talk,” she demands, bursting through his office door without any regard for just about anything. “Explain to me why...”

Matthew Y/l/n tilts his head at her with a raised brow, and the person sitting on the opposite side of his desk has an expression to match.

“Perfect,” she sneers. “We’re all here, then.”

She nearly loses it when Harry choke down a laugh while getting up and offering her his now empty seat. She takes it, but not before she glares at him and his stupid face.

Her dad looks like he’s been caught in a crossfire, and he calculatingly smooths down his perfectly ironed tie. Harry takes the seat beside hers, except he makes a point to pull it a few inches away.

“So...” her dad practically sings. “Harry’s back!”

“I can see that.” From the corner of her eye, she sees a smirk. “Why are you even here?”

Harry doesn’t seem offended despite the harsh nature of her tone. He chances a glance at her dad before turning to her. “Work,” is his first answer. He bounces one leg over the other and leans back against the back the seat. His expression softens. “But I guess I just really missed home.”

She thinks that’s bullshit. No decent person would leave everything behind without a second thought. “It took you ten years?”

“I did what I had to do,” he retorts.

“And that was to just disappear?”

“This isn’t really the place nor time...”

“Then why bother coming back!"

That manages to crack Harry’s calm demeanor. He looks at her as if she had knocked the wind from his lungs. At this point her chest is heaving, as well. She forgets where they are and that her dad is a witness to this outburst.

“I, uh,” they both turn to Matthew as he tries to find the words to appease the situation. “I was thinking we could all go out for dinner later?” He’s joking, right? He smiles as her, but with that ‘I’m your father and you don’t have much of a say in this’ look in his eyes. “How about you and Jared meet us around...say, seven? Hey, you know what? Bring Penelope, too!”

“Pen–”

Matthew swivels in his chair and practically hops to his feet. He leans down and kisses Y/n on the head. “Got to get to a meeting. I’ll see you later.” And with that, he’s gone. It leaves her alone with the person she wants nothing more than to get away from.

She doesn’t understand what’s happening to her. There are so many things she feels bombarding her all at once and there’s not one thing she can make sense of. Harry doesn’t say anything. Instead, he’s typing something on his phone. His lips are quirked up in an almost-grin, and she can’t help but feel miffed that he has the audacity to pull such a face in her presence when all she can do is glower.

“I guess we’ll talk later?” he suddenly says. He slips his phone into his pants pocket. She crosses her arms and rolls her eyes. Like her dad had done, he gets up and starts towards the door. But before she can even hear it graze against the carpeting, he mutters one last thing. “Congratulations on the engagement.”

Her dress squeaks loudly against the leather of her seat because she must have turned too quickly. Their eyes meet, his are difficult to read.

***

“...and I’ve been trying to look for a flat, but the boss works me too hard,” Harry smirks over at Matthew. Her dad lets out a hearty chuckle as he finishes off the last of dessert.

“Well, if you’re really that overworked, it’s not at all obvious,” Penny says with a saucy smile. “Definitely still a catch.” She touches his arm, and Y/n digs her nails into her palm because it makes her feel sick. It’s ridiculous that she’s so bothered by how quickly conversation had flowed between Harry and Penelope.

Jared has an arm around the back of her chair. He looks bored with the conversation. She can’t tell if he’s irked at Harry (in the same way she is) or because he sees how much her dad likes him. That’s not to say that Jared isn’t well liked by Matthew. He did get his blessing to propose, after all. Yeah, they’ve been engaged for a while now. But so, what? Long engagements are common enough, and it does allow the two participants to fully get to know one another, as well as get close to the important people in their lives. Things just aren’t as smooth between her dad and Jared as she would like, but she supposes that’ll ease over with time.

“I wouldn’t let my current appearance fool you,” Harry snorts.

“Is that a challenge?” Penny bats her lashes at him.

Y/n can’t take it anymore. “So!” she interrupts, “Pen, didn’t you go out with that Vogue photographer last night?

Her friend gives her an odd look, but when she sees the rest of the table’s eyes on her, she waves it off. “Oh, yeah. But it didn’t end how I would’ve liked.” She gestures between her legs. “He had a little trouble getting it up.”

“Penelope Swanton,” Matthew warns, as if she might give him a heart attack. “Parental unit sitting right here.”

Everyone shares a laugh except for Y/n and Jared. The latter just stares at the tablecloth with vague intensity. It’s strange that he hasn’t made a quip all night. He’s usually the one who talks the most...well, besides Penny.

“Maybe pretty girls scare him,” Harry chuckles. “It happens to the best of us.”

A mischievous glint sparkles in Penny’s eyes. “Do I scare you, Harry?”

“COFFEE!” Y/n all but screams. “We should order coffee!” She can’t just sit there and watch her friend make the same mistakes all over again. It would be a serious miscarriage of justice is she were to let that happen.

But she can only stall for so long, and before she knows it, they’re all making their way out of the restaurant. It’s that awkward phase of standing outside and making small talk before someone has the balls to leave. Harry offers Penny a ride, and Y/n has to watch as they get into his car, laughing like he hadn’t broken her heart all those years ago.

Jared still seems to be in a mood as well, but he plays it off and tells her he’s got a stomachache from the scallops he had as an appetizer. She rubs his back as they wait for the valet to bring their car around, glaring at Harry’s taillights before he turns onto the road.

***

Y/n manages to not think about Harry for a few weeks. With the newest exhibit opening up, it’s kept her body and mind busy. By the time she gets home, she’s tired and all she wants is to put her feet up and watch reruns of Downton Abbey.

The doorbell rings, and she can’t help but groan because she was just getting comfortable. She looks through the peephole, then shakes her head knowingly. She pulls the door open.

“Don’t you have work?” she asks playfully, but she wishes she could take it back when she sees the broken look painted across Penny’s face. “Oh my god, are you alright?” She guides her friend into the apartment and sits her down on the couch.

Penny suddenly bursts into tears, her face falling into her hands as though she were hiding her shame. Not wanting to distress her further, Y/n gathers her in her arms and lets her cry it out. They’ve been through a lot together, and in all their years of friendship, she’s never seen her look so somber as she does now.

She strokes her hair, whispering her reassurance even though she’s left in the dark. Penny breaks from her hug and wipes her eyes with her knuckles before looking at her with misty eyes. “I’m...” but she starts blubbering, and nothing coherent can be understood. Y/n waits patiently until she can speak. “I’m pregnant.”

Y/n feels the color drain from her face while her head fills worry. She can’t decide who she’s worried more about, Penny or her baby. Penny is an adult is capable of making her own decisions, but she can also be reckless. She can barely pay her rent on time and her work schedule isn’t the best either. A baby would mean growing up, but Y/n knows that Penny’s still trying to figure things out.

Then, the inevitable question bubbles in her throat. “How far along?” Penny sniffles. “About six weeks.”

Y/n feels awful that the first thing she feels is relief. Not Harry’s. “And the father?”

“I can’t tell him,” Penny cries, she lays her head in Y/n’s lap. “He’s...he has a...” She doesn’t need to finish that sentence for Y/n to understand.

“Penny...” her tone is every bit of disappointed.

***

She accompanied Penny to her first appointment to the OB-GYN this morning, and the sound of the baby’s heartbeat had been enough to drive both women to tears. It was beautiful, and the look in Penny’s eyes said all that they could. Sure, Y/n had worried about her when she first learned of the pregnancy, but that had immediately changed with just that one look.

One day, Y/n hopes to have children of her own. She and Jared have opened up the topic a few times, but they never seem to be on the same page when it comes to starting a family. He claims it’s because his job’s hours are too crazy to juggle an infant. He’s the physical therapist for the National Football team, which means he has to go with them on away games. Deep down, however, Y/n thinks he’s afraid that he’ll end up the way his father did. She wants to tell him that’s ridiculous, but she always has to walk on eggshells about that.

It’s okay, though. Until she and Jared can come to an agreement, she has no qualms over spoiling her new niece or nephew. Auntie Y/n. She likes the sound of that. So much, in fact, that she finds herself outside of a baby boutique on the high street. She wonders if Penny will be having a boy or a girl.

“So cute!” she smiles to herself when she sees all the onesies on the mini mannequins. Would it be too early to plan Penny’s baby shower? She’s so lost in hypothetical party planning that she doesn’t notice see body before they collide, and warm liquid misses her shoes by mere centimeters.

“I’m so sorry!” she rushes out an apology. There’s an unflattering brown stain on his otherwise perfect white button-up. She grabs for her wallet in her purse, hoping to at least pay for the damages, but stops when she gets a good look at him.

“You.”

The world must really have it out for her. Harry looks down at his tainted shirt. “Nice seeing you too.”

“Sorry,” she says again. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Head in the clouds?” he muses, shaking his sleeve of the last remaining drops of coffee.

She smiles tightly. “Just window shopping.”

He looks at the store in front of them, and his head snaps towards her. “Are you...?”

“No,” she replies immediately. “A friend of mine.”

For some reason, his shoulders seem to relax. He’s still incredibly handsome, though she never doubted that that would ever change. Under his wet shirt, she notices a sizeable few tattoos inked onto his chest. The sight intrigues her, and she has to stop herself from reaching out and tracing them with her finger.

“Let me pay for your dry-cleaning,” she says, tearing her eyes away from his body.

Harry shakes his head. “There’s no need, honestly. Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you sure?” She really doesn’t want to be in his debt. “I’d feel better if I could make it up to you somehow.”

“No, really. It’s fine.” Why is he so stubborn?

“I insist.”

He studies her for a moment. She imagines that she can see the gears turning as he thinks.

“I’m actually on my way to a viewing, and well...I’m not really sure what to look for.”

She replays his words in her head. “So, you want me to...help you pick out an apartment?” That can’t be right.

“My car’s just over there,” he points with his chin. “What do you say?”

Alarms are sounding in her head, each one screaming a different command between her ears. A part of her is saying it’s a bad idea, that she should stand her ground and stay mad at him because of what he had done. On the other hand, the rest of her––the biggest part of her––wants to indulge in the feeling she has when she’s with him. It’s a crazy mix of fury and joy that isn’t entirely unbearable.

“Fine,” she concedes, and she brushes past him and starts towards his car. “But only because I feel bad about the shirt.” She doesn’t dare look back. She slides into the passenger seat and buckles herself in. Her stomach is doing cartwheels beneath her high-waisted pants.

Harry gets into the driver’s seat but doesn’t start the engine right away. He pulls his jacket off and places it neatly on the console. What he does next makes her regret getting out of bed this morning. Her mouth dries as he undoes every button of his shirt and reveals the tattoos she’d been fantasizing about earlier.

“Do-do you mind?” She feels her cheeks heat up, and she turns to the window in hopes to find a distraction.

“Well, I’m not going to talk business looking like I’ve just been bullied by a barista.”

“That’s completely beside the point!”

“Well, you can look now, Mother Teresa,” he says smugly. She hesitantly cranes her neck back. He’s now sporting a similar shirt, but this time, it’s dark grey. “See?”

She huffs, then mutters something under her breath. He smiles at her, like he’s just dying to tease her, but ultimately decides not to. She just glares straight ahead.

“Just drive the damn car.”

***

“And this unit is complete with its own balcony which overlooks the Thames,” Mariette, Harry’s real-estate agent says to the both of them. “It sets the mood nicely, don’t you think? And it happens to be very popular with our younger couples.” She sends them a not-so-subtle wink.

Y/n feels herself flush, and she ducks into the kitchen and pretends to inspect the marble countertop.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Harry says. He doesn’t seem to be paying that much attention, or if he is, he’s really good at hiding his own embarrassment. Y/n wonders if he’s just humoring the over-zealous agent. After all, he was never the type to correct someone over silly little details.

Mariette tells them to walk around, get a feel for the place, before excusing herself to make a phone call. Y/n follows Harry up the stairs where all the bedrooms are. There are three, and the master bedroom has its own ensuite toilet and bath.

“What do you think?” Harry asks her.

She glances at the view from the window. It’s beautiful, gorgeous even. The building itself is in one of the nicer parts of town, where the congested London traffic wouldn’t take away from its overall aura. She can already picture him spending the mornings on the balcony with a cup of tea and a book or passed out on a king-sized mattress in the bedroom after a long day of work.

“It’s nice,” she answers truthfully. “But it doesn’t matter what I think.”

Harry looks at her like she’s spewing nonsense. “I asked for your input, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did. But at the end of the day, it’s your home. Not mine. You might not even stay around long enough to enjoy it.” The look on his face when she lets that last part slip out makes her wish she had just shut her mouth. She leaves him in the bedroom and heads into the hall. She needs to get away. Why couldn’t she have just given him a simple answer? Why does she continue to open up old wounds that she knows she’ll never be able to close?

Before she can get far, however, his fingers curl around her shoulder. He swallows thickly behind her.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. Until now, he hadn’t apologized. She hadn’t expected him to, and now she isn’t sure how to take it. This should vindicate her, but all she wants to do is curl up and close herself off from the world, even for a little while.

She looks down to her feet, and as though on cue, her eyes begin to fill with tears. Her hand quickly lands on her mouth to muffle a sob.

He turns her towards him, holding her by the waist. In a split-second, she’s wrapped in his arms. She tries to pull away, but her body is too unwilling to lose his familiar warmth.

“Why didn’t you say goodbye?” she whimpers against his shirt.

His chest heaves. “Because if I did, I’d never be able to leave.” His words shake her.

She pulls away slightly, just enough to look into his eyes. “But what about me?” she asks. “Harry, you were my best friend, and you just treated me like I meant nothing to you.” It made her feel like nothing. Apparently, she’s an easy person to leave behind. First it was her mother, then the person she trusted most. She couldn’t tell you which had broken her more.

“I never wanted to hurt you.”

Scoffing, “A bit late for that, no?”

“Then let me make it up to you,” his plea is coated with desperation. Every bit of him shines with sincerity that she wishes she could ignore. His touch burns her through her clothes like blue flames. Body and mind are rekindling, and now that she remembers what it feels like to be close to him, she can’t see a version of herself that doesn’t want him back in her life.

“I don’t know if I believe in second chances,” she says softly. His grip on her loosens substantially, and there’s a sudden fear that he’ll let go. “But,” she continues, “you’ll be my first.”

It’s a bone-crushing, heart-enlarging hug, and it leaves her feeling happier than she’s felt in a long time.

***

They’re not the same two kids who would spend every waking moment together, but this is the closest they’ll ever get in adult life.

Harry visits her on her lunch breaks and lets her bounce marketing strategies off of him whilst they walk the gallery. Just like her dad, he has a well-versed business mind. It feels good to be able to talk to him again. It’s like a part of herself has risen after years of sleep and is finally seeing the light of day. Under the fancy suits and numerous tattoos, he’s still the same guy who can listen to her talk for hours without fail.

She’s even had him over for dinner at her and Jared’s place. At first, she was afraid that things would be tense between the two of them, after all, Jared hadn’t talked much during their dinner nearly a month back. To her delight, however, they seemed to pick up where they left off, and spent majority of the night talking sports and all that ‘man’ talk that she can never be bothered to understand.

If a month ago she had felt empty, she can proudly admit that she’s starting to fill up.

***

When Penny announces that the baby is a girl, Y/n is probably the most excited. She visits the baby boutique she’d been browsing some days ago and buys a rubber duckie onesie with a matching headband, along with four other matching sets.

“You really shouldn’t have to go through all the trouble,” Penny scolds her.

Y/n waves her off. There shouldn’t be any of that nonsense. She likes being able to spoil her best friend’s future child. “I want to. Just humor me, okay? I’m aiming for Auntie of the Year.” She lays all the rest of the outfits on Penny’s sofa.

“It’s true,” Harry adds. “She’s already had the bib made.” Y/n flips him off but is far too delighted by all the pretty patterns to come up with a proper retort. Rather, she tries to sweep Penny into conversation about a real baby shower (and not just the one she’d planned in her head), discussing potential guests and a wish list that she should start setting up on Amazon.

Jared and Penny give each other a look, and the way the former’s jaw tenses doesn’t go unnoticed by Harry but completely goes over Y/n’s head.

***

“Why don’t you put any of your own work on display?” Harry asks her one day.

“Honestly?” she sighs, “I haven’t actually made anything in...well, almost a decade.”

His jaw drops. “I don’t think I heard you right, a decade?”

The same amount of time you’ve been gone, she thinks to herself. Of course, now that they’re back to being friends, she would never say it out loud.

***

Nan had called her up and asked if she and Ava would drive up to Holmes Chapel and help her sort out all the things to donate. They try to visit their grandparents every few months because they are getting to the age where they won’t be around for long. Although, Nan will tell anyone with ears that she’s stronger than she was in her twenties due to her weekly spin classes at the community center. Meanwhile, Gramps is still the same as ever. He still sits in front of the TV and watches highlights of games he’s got recorded on the DV-R, and accidentally knocks over Nan’s petunia’s when he backs the car out of the garage.

Her childhood bedroom is also how she had left it. Sure, her teenage years had called for a bit of renovation, but underneath posters of her favorite actors and boy bands are the youthful stickers Nan had put up when they had first arrived.

She rummages through her closet, throwing old clothes in good condition into her donation basket. There are even some that were never worn, and she debates whether she’d be able to use any of it, but ultimately decides against it.

The top shelf is full of empty shoe boxes and other things she had carelessly thrown up there. Her old sketchbook falls open, face down, at her feet.

She picks it up and is greeted by the same sketch that had won her first prize in the art show all those years ago when she was fifteen. Her fingers graze over the pencil lines, and it’s like being reacquainted with an old friend. She had spent months on this one drawing, and it had turned out to be her greatest piece to date (the actual painting is still being preserved at the school).

“You know, I always thought that boy looked like Anne’s boy,” Nan says nonchalantly. Y/n hadn’t even heard her come in.

“What?” Y/n stares intently at the paper. “You think so?”

Ava practically skips in. “Oh, gossiping, are we?” She sounds just like Nan. Y/n can’t help the roll of her eyes.

“I was just telling your sister about how that painting of hers up at the school looks a lot like Harry.”

“Is it not supposed to?” Ava seems genuinely confused.

“I mean...it wasn’t actually based on anyone in particular,” Y/n says, feeling the need to defend herself. “It was just...something I envisioned in my head.” She turns back to her closet, leaving Nan and Ava to carry on their conversation on her bed.

Reaching her arm up high, she feels around the shelf until she pokes something soft. When she brings it down, she can’t help but grin. Freddo. She had almost forgotten about him. After Harry had left, she had gone on a bit of a rampage, and any reminder of him had fallen victim to the trash or banishment to the top shelf.

Nan must notice her smile because she comes up and cradles her from behind and rests her chin on her shoulder. “It’s funny,” she says, and Y/n looks back at her expectantly. “I also thought that you two would end up together, but I guess I was off by a bit, huh?” She kisses Y/n on the cheek and calls for Ava to follow her downstairs.

Y/n stares at the toy as though it held some sort of secret.

***

She’s lucky she’s home by herself––Jared is off at the pub for his and Sid’s weekly meet-up––because now she has time to unwind and be as antisocial as she wants. Work had been stressful, mostly because the exhibit is set to open next week. And really, all she wants is to be under her favorite blanket with a cup of hot chocolate and just be dead to the world.

Even though she thinks that, however, she can’t help but tap on her phone screen every few minutes. Sure, she likes the time alone, but she also likes being needed. Ava says it’s a control thing, but she really just prefers to be in the know. Lately, Penny’s been spamming her with messages and phone calls about the baby or sometimes it’ll be for a little reassurance. Of course, she’s more than happy to support her. It’s brave of Penny to tackle this alone. The baby’s father is completely out of bounds, so she’s told, and Penny says she’d rather her baby grow up with just a mother than in some dysfunctional setup.

Speaking of dysfunction, she hasn’t been able to properly think straight ever since her visit with Nan. What the elderly woman had told her hadn’t exactly shocked her, per say, but it did have her rethink some of the interactions between her and Harry. It’s ridiculous, really. They’d been best friends since she was eight and he was nine. They know each other’s ins and outs, likes and dislikes, what makes the other laugh and cry. They’re simply comfortable.

Okay. Maybe there had been times where she thought that the possibility of something more was on the table, but that quickly proved to be all in her imagination. She had her boyfriends and he had his girlfriends. She fell in love with his cousin, and he dated her other best friend. Then he left town.

Then he left.

***

Abandoning her original plans for the night, Y/n finds herself at his door.

“Hey,” he greets her, but his warm smile falters when he takes note of her appearance. “What’s with the look? Are you okay?” She doesn’t answer, she’s too taken by the image of him and the way her heart feels like it might burst from her chest to comprise a full sentence. He doesn’t push her, though. He fishes into the pocket of his sweats and pulls out a shapely object wrapped in purple foil. “I-uh, I don’t eat chocolate that much anymore, but they don’t have these in America, so I’ve been snacking on a few of these a week.” It lands itself in her hand. “Just like when we were kids, right?”

It’s a Freddo. A fucking Freddo. Her fingers curl around it.

“You once asked me if I thought that things should’ve been different,” she says. “What did you mean by that?”

Harry doesn’t answer. She tries again.

“Why did you leave, Harry?"

“It’s been so long, I don’t even remember.”

“Don’t lie to me.” She takes one step closer. He evades her eyes, like he’s afraid they’ll speak on their own. Her stomach tightens because it’s all starting to make sense. His words. That embrace. These feelings that have always existed between them. “You left because of me.”

It’s not a question, but a sure statement. He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. She slides a hand up to his cheek, forcing him to look at her. When he finally does, she’s sees it. And her gut says it’s not the first time.

It’s heartache.

She knows because she sees it every time she looks in the mirror. It’s taken her this long to realize it. That hollow feeling that’s been consuming her, it disappeared the day Harry Styles walked back into her life. Once the anger over what he’d done had subsided, she’s felt nothing but joy since.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” She wants to scream.

“You made him happy,” is all he says, almost regretfully. “I couldn’t take that away from him.”

“So, you didn’t even consider how I felt? Harry, I would’ve...would’ve–”

“And that’s why I had to leave!” He wipes both hands down his face in frustration. “We would’ve ended up hurting two people we cared too much about.”

“You don’t know that–”

“If I had tried to kiss you that night, would you have let me?” His gaze bores into her.

Yes. The voice within her screams it over and over. He must already know her answer because he just smiles sadly at the floor. This is why he had done it. He knew that if he had stayed any longer, it would have only been a matter of time before they gave into each other.

It makes her sick.

“I figured if I just took myself out the equation, the rest of you would be spared the heartbreak.” He sighs. “And it worked. You and Jared are about to start a life together, Penny’s got her baby. You’re happy.”

She wants to counter him, but she can’t find the strength. “What about you?” she whispers instead.

He tilts his head to the side. “I came back to prove to myself that I could be happy for you.” His jaw slackens, and he doesn’t continue.

She’s toe to toe with him. “And are you?”

The next thing she knows, her back is against the wall, and her fingers are tangled in his hair. His lips feed her, makes her blood come alive like she’s never lived until now. She kisses him with everything she has. Every drop of anger and every ounce of emotion that burns through her veins. His hands keep her body as close to his as possible, yet, they feel so gentle as they caress her curves like she’s made of glass. It feels so right.

And it shouldn’t.

Just as sudden as it had started, she pushes him away. He doesn’t fight her. Without another word, she leaves his apartment.

*** When she makes it home, Jared is about to get ready for bed. She drops her clothes to the floor, and his soon follow. They fall onto the bed, his teeth gnawing down her jaw while his hand slides down to cup her heat. He asks her if she’s ready once his member is nudged against her opening. She nods, and he pushes into her, just as he’s done many times before.

She tries her best to focus on how good this should feel to have him inside of her, but the more he moves, the more she feels like this is all a mistake. It feels all too similar to when she had given him her virginity. It happened the night after Harry had skipped town. She was upset and wanted to feel something aside from the pain he had caused her. Jared had been there, and things had soon escalated. But it didn’t feel right. Her heart wasn’t in it, and so her body couldn’t give itself the relief it had been searching for.

It hasn’t felt like that since, or maybe she had gotten better at hiding it, just as she’s done with everything else. She had hoped that sex with Jared would put her mind and her heart back into perspective, but instead, she feels even more helpless.

One kiss with Harry had meant more to her than any of this. It fills her with shame because shouldn’t want to be with anyone except Jared, especially when all he’s ever done is love her.

She doesn’t realize it’s over until he rolls off her with a content sigh, then stumbles into the bathroom. He closes the door behind him, and it’s then she feels the tears start to fill the rim of her eyes. Her thighs clasp together as her humiliation fully sets in. She turns on her side and covers her naked body with the blanket that had been pushed to the foot of the bed. Jared returns minutes later, mumbling a goodnight. If he has something else to say, he doesn’t. It takes to the count of five for him to drift to sleep.

***

“I need to cancel the engagement,” she says. Ava gives her a circumspect shrug of the shoulders, like she’s trying not to say the wrong thing. Y/n turns to her, hands twiddling the fingers in her lap from stress. “What do you think I should do?”

Ava looks at her, the pity is obvious on her face. “I don’t know, sis.” She rubs her back. “Are you going to tell Jared about you and Harry?”

“I have to.”

***

She doesn’t have the opportunity to talk to Jared until the night of the exhibit opening since he’d been in Spain on a team trip. It’s eating her up, how she hasn’t told him yet, but at least by the end of today she’ll no longer be holding on to something so big. He had promised to come straight to the gallery once he landed back at Heathrow. His flight was set to get in two hours ago, so it’s only a matter of time now.

More and more people are starting to fill the floor. Most are patrons whom she sees frequently at these events, but there are some new faces mixed in the crowd. She’s lucky that Ava and her grandparents are here to support her, especially when she’ll probably need them afterwards.

“Hey, don’t look so nervous,” Nan tells her. “The place looks great. You know, I overheard that guy in the red Chanel that he’s interested in buying.” Bless her, Y/n thinks. Nan’s always had a way of diffusing the tension, even when she isn’t aware of it.

“I’m happy you guys are here,” Y/n says, and she brings her friend in for a hug.

Nan gives her a confused smile. “Of course, we’re here. We wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she proudly declares, and she elbows Gramps in the ribs when he doesn’t contribute. “Honestly, try to look a little alive.”

“I put on a tie, didn’t I?” Gramps rolls his eyes, but then he sends Y/n a wink.

“Where’s Penelope this evening?” Nan asks, scanning the room, brows furrowing. Y/n feels a sweat break out. She just hopes that Penny will understand when she finds out about her feelings for her ex-boyfriend. It’s been years, sure, but there has to be some kind of friendship code that prohibits this sort of thing. “And where’s that fiancé of yours? He should be here with you.”

“Probably just got stuck in traffic,” Y/n says, but honestly, she’s reveling the extra time she has to prepare.

Nan hooks arms with Ava and Gramps, and they walk the floor while Y/n greets a few of her guests. Her dad is one of them, no surprise there. He pecks her on the side of the head and lets out a perplexed sound as he gazes at all the art.

“I feel like I should understand this kind of thing by now,” he muses, gesturing to the portrait of naked man made from duct tape and spoons. “Anything after 2003 is lost to me. I just don’t get it.”

“Are you proud of me?” Y/n shocks herself with the question.

Matthew looks stunned himself. “Why would you ask something like that? You know that I am.” He pulls her aside, so they have a little more privacy. “Sweetheart, is everything okay?” There’s worry in his eyes.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” she appeases, “I just wanted to hear it.” Her dad doesn’t respond but hugs her tight. They stay like that for a moment, she’s always felt safe in his arms, until she feels them loosen around her. She looks up at him, his look somewhere else. When she follows it, her heart skips a beat.

“Harry!” Matthew takes his hand and shakes it. “I haven’t seen you in a full two hours!”

The younger man lets out a slight chuckle. “It’s been unbearable. I just can’t keep away.” He turns to her. “Congratulations.”

A nod is all she can afford.

Matthew looks between the two of them, and their situation feels almost familiar. He coughs into his hand and excuses himself as he chases a waiter down the west wing.

“Can we talk?” Harry asks her.

She purses her lips to the side. There’s so much she wants to say to him, but she’s afraid of what she might do.

Against her better judgement, she leads him into her office. She leaves the door open behind her in the off chance that things intensify. She doesn’t need any more guilt on her plate. (But she wishes he wasn’t wearing such a properly fit suit. It’s far too distracting for the seriousness of the situation.)

Leaning against her desk, arms crossed over her chest, she waits for him to speak.

“I’m sorry.”

“It was both our doing,” she stresses. If you asked her who had kissed who first, she wouldn’t be able to tell you. “We just...got caught up in the moment.” I let my heart dictate my actions.

He looks hurt by her words but doesn’t press her on it. “I should’ve stopped it. I always wondered what it would feel like to kiss you, and when it happened, I...” He shakes his head, and she’s thankful that he’ll never finish that sentence. She’s already heard it in her mind. Hearing out loud would cause both of them too much agony.

“I know,” she rasps. “I can’t stand here and say that I didn’t want it, but–”

“you don’t want to hurt him.” She smiles appreciatively, though, sadly. In another life, maybe they would have a chance. This one doesn’t have a place for them. Even if she ends things with Jared, it doesn’t erase the fact that they’re family. She could never start anything with Harry without him getting hurt. It’s a matter of acceptance now.

This must have been what Harry had been feeling when he had left. As much as it hurts to remember, she thinks she at least understands it better.

“I need air,” she says, not wanting to entertain those thoughts further, “join me?” She grabs her phone from her desk. It’s getting late, and she’s starting to worry about Jared.

They leave her office and start towards the back door that some of her staff use when they want a smoke. She usually avoids it for that reason, but it was getting too stuffy in there. Her lungs will forgive her if she takes this one moment to herself. Her screen unlocks, and just as she’s about to press on her fiancé’s name, Harry pushes the door open and she looks up as the evening breeze brushes her face and then...

“What the hell is this?” She drops her phone to the ground.

Jared and Penny pull away from each other, but the space between them is nearly nonexistent. The latter meets her with scared eyes that soon begin to fill up. One hand covers her mouth as she chokes on a sob or maybe even fear, while the other clasps over her swollen belly. Y/n’s eyes drift down to it. It clicks.

“Y/n...” Jared starts, he’s breathing heavily. “Let me–”

“That’s why you couldn’t tell me his name,” she says shakily. It’s directed at Penelope. “You couldn’t tell me because it was him.” The night Penelope had come over unannounced after her alleged date cancellation at the same time Jared had cancelled his own plans. “I’ll make sure he knows what he’s missing.” And that’s exactly what she had done, and right under her nose. They’d have been sneaking around behind her back for months.

“We d-didn’t mean for it to get this far...” Penny tries to explain, she steps out from behind Jared’s shadow. The usually confident blonde has lost several inches of height. She says something else, but it’s like Y/n’s just drowned out all the noise. Her eyes still haven’t left Penelope’s stomach.

She wants to hate her. She should hate her. But she’s just an innocent victim caught in her parents’ web of lies. Then she grits her teeth at Jared. How far he’s fallen from the pedestal she’d put him on. Now she’s certain that she had inflated his image in her spiraling guilt for having feelings for another man. To think that only minutes ago she was about to plead for his forgiveness for kissing Harry, when all this time he’d been fucking her closest friend.

“Jared,” his name weighs like venom on her tongue, “I want you out of the apartment by tonight.”

She just runs. Down the alleyway, ignoring all the calls of her name behind her. Harry’s voice is by far the loudest. There’s a thud, followed by a scream. However tempted she is to look back, her legs have developed a mind of their own and lead her towards the busy sidewalk. The bright streetlights burn her eyes, but she doesn’t stop.

She keeps going until she finds the first empty cab. Getting in without a second to hesitate, she closes the door and tells the man behind the wheel to just go.

“Where to?” he asks her. Her first instinct is to go home and lock herself in her room, but she realizes that she’ll probably have to confront Jared again, and that’s not going to happen. Her second and third options are still at the gallery, completely oblivious to all the night’s revelations. There’s just one other person on that list, so Y/n gives the driver the address.

***

It takes less than twenty minutes for her to end up in front of a building with bright blue doors and window panels to match. She climbs the steps, one wobbly footstep at a time, but only hesitating once. Her knuckles curl at her sides, until lifting them up to knock against the heavy wood. Light from inside peeks through the curtains.

A woman appears in the open threshold, that faint light from inside creating a halo around her figure. She looks unreal, like something straight out of a storybook. Her ethereal face just as kind as Y/n remembers. It’s the most immaculate she’s ever been.

Y/n feels herself lose the battle with the emotions she had managed to keep on leash from just one look from her.

With a whimper, her mouth struggle with the words. “Hi, Mum.”

***

Grace sets her up in the guest room and supplies her with a cup of tea and biscuits. As she’s setting it down on the bedside table, Y/n can’t help but take note of her appearance. It’s been nearly twenty years since she had last seen her mother, but why is that she’s never looked younger? Her eyes no longer have the eternal vacancy that had highlighted her once slack expression.

She looks happy.

“Thank god I did the shopping earlier this week, huh?” Grace muses, opening up a new pack of biscuits. Each word to leave her lips feels smooth against her ears. “I’ve developed a bit of a sweet tooth in my old age.” Y/n doesn’t know if she appreciates her efforts to make conversation, but it does give her time to think about what exactly she wants to say.

They drink their tea in hushed sips, like they’re afraid that any loud slurping might cause some offence. Y/n stares down into the contents of her cup, annoyed that it’s the perfect color. A part of her had wished that she could find something to fault her with.

“So,” Grace hums, tapping melodically on the porcelain in her hands. “You want to tell me why you’re here?”

Y/n barely lifts her head as her hands strangle the air with frustrated rigidness. “I’ve spent my entire life trying not to become you.” From her decision to follow her dad’s wishes, to keeping appearances for a relationship that she now knows was destined for destruction, she’d made every choice for everyone else.

Grace doesn’t respond, but her mouth parts with a staggered breath.

“I wanted to believe that I was happy. I wanted to do what you never did because I didn’t want to hurt the people I was supposed to love.” All the years she’d never confronted these feelings have ultimately resulted to this. “You broke us,” she says, staring her directly in the eyes. “You ruined every image I had of love.” The anxiousness that had put her through hell had to come from this. The truth is, she couldn’t break it off with Jared because she didn’t want to hurt him in the same way that her mother had hurt her dad. That’s it. She ignored every gut feeling that told her it wasn’t right because of the bitterness she felt towards her mother.

“The choices we make aren’t genetic,” Grace says softly.

“Aren’t they, though?” she shrieks. She bounces to her feet and paces in front of the bed. “Penelope’s mother was the other woman, and now Penelope is pregnant with my fiancé’s baby! You ran away from your family because you couldn’t forget him.”

By that, she means her mother’s new husband, the one she had left them for. It had been during her last year at university that Y/n had discovered the truth. He had been her professor for her art history class. She recognized him from a picture she had once seen in her mother’s jewelry box. She just hadn’t put two and two together until then. “And I...I can’t forget the person I’ve loved since I was eight. What makes us different, Mum?”

Grace holds her chin close to her body. “I don’t know,” she whispers. “But tell me this. Why haven’t you planned your wedding?”

This causes Y/n’s pacing to cease. She stands at her mother’s knees, blinking rapidly. “How would you know anything that goes on with me?”

Her mother stands up as well. They’re about the same height.

“I know it’ll make never make up for what I did but believe me. I’ve never stopped trying to be in your lives...even if it was from afar.” Her hand is shaking as she reaches up to cup Y/n’s cheek so she can wipe away her tears. “I was there when you won all your art shows back in school. I was there when you graduated university.” She’s crying her own tears now. “And I was excited for you when you got engaged three years ago.”

Y/n doesn’t let herself give in. She pulls away. “It was supposed to be a long engagement.”

“Is that what you keep telling yourself?” Grace looks at her pointedly. Y/n’s bottom lip starts to quiver. Her mother grasps her by the shoulders. “Maybe that’s what makes you different from me. You stopped pretending before it was too late, you just hadn’t realized it.”

“Is that supposed to make me a good person?” Y/n challenges.

“No,” Grace answers honestly, but she sighs with a small smile. “But it makes you a better person than me.”

***

She doesn’t recall ever falling asleep, but she can still feel her mother’s hand stroking her hair as she had laid her head on the pillow. The morning sun shines through the curtains of the unfamiliar room and greet her with slithers of light by her feet. Waking up here feels strange, but she’s experienced comfort that she hasn’t felt in so long.

The rug-lined steps make little to no sound as she makes her way downstairs. From the bottom, she can hear two voices talking in hushed tones from the kitchen. One is unmistakably her mothers, while the other is deep and manly. She isn’t sure how to make approach them, suddenly feeling self-conscious for having intruded. But soon enough, her mum catches sight of her and invites her to take the stool beside her. Y/n walks in, passing her mother’s husband, who smiles kindly at her. She had liked him as a professor before she had found about his private life.

“Good morning,” Grace says. “Lawrence’s just been to the bakery.” She pushes a box full of a variety of goodies. “Eat as much as you want.”

Y/n picks up a croissant and gingerly pulls it apart. She avoids how her mother and her husband gage in her every movement.

“Did you sleep well?” It’s Lawrence who asks her. She nods. Lawrence and her mother share a look, and through their eyes they seem to converse. It reminds her a lot of how she and Harry had always been able to tell what the other was thinking without having to verbalize. Lawrence finishes up his cup of coffee, then circles around the island and kisses his wife on the cheek. “I’m just going to pop to the store,” he says. She catches the back of his head before he disappears.

“I thought you said you had just done the shopping?” Y/n asks her mother. The older woman shrugs, continuing to pick at her breakfast. Oh. She sees that there’s apparently more to talk about. Y/n does in fact have a few more questions she wants to ask, if anything more than to talk to someone who knows what she’s going through. She takes a deep breath. “Are you happy?” The words feel awkward as they leave her mouth. Grace looks at her, questioningly. She nods towards the door. “With him?”

“Yes.”

Y/n’s heart breaks for her father.

“He’s my best friend,” Grace says dreamily. “I’ve known him all my life. Loved him about the same.” Y/n feels goosebumps startle her skin.

“So,” Y/n treads cautiously, “was he worth it?”

“There are things that I would have done differently when it came to you and your sister, given the chance,” her mother sighs, but when she looks at her with those eyes that are so full of light and what she guesses must only be love, Y/n gets it. “But otherwise I’d choose him all over again.”

***

She knocks impulsively on his front door, not caring if his new neighbors think she’s out of her mind insane. Her limbs are tight with anticipation, especially when she hears the scuffle of feet against well-polished hardwood. Harry stands in the open doorway dressed in a white t-shirt and black joggers, and an adorably confused look floating in his sleepy eyes. But when he registers her before him, it’s like he’d been hit by lightning and suddenly jolted awake.

“Has anything changed?” she asks, almost pleadingly. He just stares at her, frustrating her already exhausted nerves. She hadn’t come all this way after a rollercoaster of a night to not get an answer. “Am I...Am I still all that’s in...” And rests her hand where his heart is.

Her own heart leaps in her chest when his dimples emerge from his cheeks. He lays his own hand over hers, stepping towards her but also pulling her incredibly close. “It’s always been you.”

And no words have ever made her cry out of shear joy. She laughs, or maybe it’s more of a wet giggle, before throwing her arms around his neck and bringing him in for a scorching kiss. Unlike their first kiss, this one is filled solely with everything they hadn’t allowed themselves to feel. He nips on her bottom lip, and her mouth parts and welcomes his tongue to explore every unchartered inch. He grasps her both her thighs and carries her to his bedroom.

She can’t believe she’s gone this long without knowing his touch. Every movement of against her skin, and every exploration of forbidden pleasure makes her stomach coil and beg for more. He lays her down on his bed, his body hovering over hers like he’s afraid she might slip away.

He leans in a little lower, and she gasps when she feels him hard against her hip. “We don’t have to do anything,” he gulps, pressing his forehead to hers. “You’ve been through a lot, and I just want you to know that–” but he doesn’t get to finish because she shuts him up with the fire in her eyes. She loves him for everything he is, even when he’s being selfless to a fault.

“We’ve waited too long for this,” she breathes against his lips. “Let’s choose us.”

A low throaty moan surges from of her as he grinds himself against her, sending currents of electrifying energy down to her aching entrance. Her mind becomes cloudier with his every caress. His hot breath against her longing flesh only intensifies her need.

“Please,” she begs, fingers working on the hem of his shirt. “I want you. God, please I want to feel you.”

He chuckles softly as she whines, pecking her again. “Patience, love,” he teases. His lips glide down to her ear, his breath sending shivers down her inflamed body. “Show me where you want me.”

Taking reign of his hand and guiding down the front of her front, she smirks at him. His pants become unbelievably tight as she lets him linger over her chest, her head falling back when the warmth of his hand flicks over her pebbled nipple. “You want me between your pretty little tits? Is that what my girl wants?” His girl. Nothing in this moment could sound so perfect than the words to have just left his lips. It’s enough for her to want to bring him in for another impassioned kiss, but she restrains, shaking her head mischievously as he squeezes gently on her breast. She leads him further down, his palm sliding down her abdomen.

“Here.” She slots her fingers through the spaces between his and their tips graze the base of her dress, toying with the flimsy material until finally slipping beneath. He groans as his skin comes into contact with her pussy emanating all that delicious heat.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.” She rubs against him just enough for him to feel her center through her panties, and he swears to her that he might come then and there. Wasting no time, she pulls his shirt over her head, only breaking their kiss to appreciate all the tattoos on his sculpted chest. When she’d seen them before, it had only been for a quick few seconds, and she’d been far too flustered to take anything more than a peek. But now she can’t help herself, and she lets her fingers dance across the ink, the point of her nails tracing over the edge of every design. She spends the most time on the moth, or maybe it’s a butterfly, she couldn’t say.

All she knows is that something about it makes her feel at peace, like she’ll always be safe as long as he's there beside her. She tears her eyes away from his chest to find him looking at her as though she were everything that’s right with the world. “You’re so beautiful,” he tells her, and she just beams, eyes looking back at him with such sincerity.

He kisses the side of her mouth before descending along her body He takes his time, his lips pressing over every possible inch of her, leaving no surface neglected. Where his hands had been prior, he takes an erect mound in his mouth, tongue swirling around in through its covering. Each touch leaves her breathless, her back arching in intense anticipation the further down he goes. When his nose nudges at the bottom of her skirt, she lets out another frustrated whine, and he chuckles softly at how her abdomen sucks in as the stubble on his chin prickles goosebumps across her skin.

“Please, just. . .” and the final remains of her inhibitions drain from the tips of her fingers and toes. “I want your cock inside me.”

“Christ, you’ve got a filthy mouth.” And he tears her dress from her body and pulls her panties down her silky legs, leaving her completely bare before his eyes. From a pale green, the color of his irises darkens with a fierce and pounding desire. It sends vibrations down to her pussy and all she wants is for him to bury his face in her dripping arousal. She bites harshly on her lip once he licks between her slick folds. “So sweet,” he mutters, his lips slipping through the barriers to find her sensitive little nub. “I could just stay here forever.”

“Harry. . .” she gasps, fisting the sheets as her hips lift off the mattress. “It feels so good.” Her legs hang over his shoulders as he encourages her to ride his face until she’s begging to release all over his tongue. “Oh god, don’t stop.”

One of his long fingers that had been drawing small little circles on the inner part of her thigh smooths over her damp skin until it forges its way into her glistening heat. The other hand moves down his own figure, undoing the button of his jeans and sliding past the waistband of his boxers.

As the knot in her stomach twists with tremendous force, it pushes her closer and closer to the edge. He inserts another finger, the two digits piston in and out of her, working harmoniously with his skilled mouth. She screams out, her back arching to an almost impossible degree. It all becomes too much for her, bursts of light flashing behind her eyelids.

“I’m gonna come,” she moans, cheek pressed deep into the pillow, eyes shut tightly to welcome the stars as she lets go with cacophonous convulsions.

“That’s my good girl, come all over my tongue. That’s it, that’s a good girl.”

He climbs back up her body, a content smile awaiting him when their faces become level with each other. Another exchange of ardent kisses, and she feels herself tingle at the taste of her on his lips. Even after her orgasm, she already craves for another, but this time she wants nothing more but to feel him stuffed inside of her. She wraps a leg around his hip, the edge of her foot pressed against the side of his ass as she presses her core into his bulge.

“I need to be inside of you.” He leaps off the bed to push off the last pieces of constrictive clothing. His cock springs free, flushed red at the tip and just desperate for her amorous touch.

And he’s big, she had always had an inkling, but to see it in the flesh is a whole new sensation quivering between her thighs. “It’s so big,” her thoughts become vocalized.

With his knees back onto the bed, she grabs his shoulders and pulls him down lower, his elbows planking on either side of her. “Feel how hard I am for you?” He hisses as her warm hand wraps around him, her thumb swiping along a dribble of precum. She lathers him in his own arousal. “Think you can handle my cock?”

She’s completely in awe, and her mind runs untamed with fantasies of how it would feel hitting that special spot deep in her cunt, every rigid vein carving its impression in her walls. “You know I can,” she dares him.

“Fuck.” He kisses her deeply, his hand taking ahold of his cock and glazing it with the remnants of her last climax and gliding just between her wet folds. “One last time–” he swallows hard as he pulls away from his lips, “–are you sure you want to do this? I mean, I...”

Their eyes meet, a wordless understanding worth more than any spoken language as she cups his cheeks.

The entire length of him slides into her tight hole until he bottoms out, his balls pressing against her taut ass. She feels undeniably full, never having experienced such exhilaration in her life as Harry’s bare cock stretches her out completely.

“Just slid right in,” he grunts, dropping his face into the crook of her neck. He bites down and sucks greedily on the spot until he’s made his mark. She gasps in mild pain, but it feels too good to know that she can finally be his. He pulls all the way out, before slamming back in with ease, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as her walls flutter around him. “It feels like you were made for me” She feels marvelously tight, squeezing him for all he’s worth. All she can do is nod, her voice caught in her throat as his thrusts become harder and faster. “It’s all mine now, your pussy, your lips. You’re all mine.”

“I’m yours, all yours, Harry.” She wraps her arms around his shoulders. “God, your big cock feels so good in my tight pussy.” Nails dig into his back as they run down and carve crescents into his flexed and sweaty muscles.

They move flawlessly in sync as she rises up to greet his every thrust with just as much excitement and fervor. Both their bodies are on fire, a pressure building up at their very core and threatening to unravel at any moment. His balls tighten, and he knows he won’t last for much longer. He looks down between them, his cock completely soaked with her with the most sinful sounds resonating whenever he pushes in and out of her delightful heat. “I love you,” he breathes into her ear, his fingers indenting into the plush of her hips. He loses any sense of rhythm he might have started out with, his movements becoming more and more urgent as he chases after his high.

“I love you.” Her second orgasm fast approaches, she feels it thrill every one of her nerves as though currents of electricity were running through her veins. She’s so close, and her hand slips between their sweaty chests to rub desperately on her clit. Her head is spinning with an aspiration to reach the brink of ecstasy.

“Come all over my cock,” he pleads as he pushes into her with incredible force. “Want to feel you come around me.”

And that’s it for her. A wave of pleasure crashes over her and she cries out with a high-pitched moan. Her legs hugging him so tightly that he barely manages to move. She rides it out, rolling her hips to feel him continuously poke that special spot. Soon enough, her mind is on a cloud, the rest of her body soaking up the bliss of the moment.

His movements only become more erratic, and the breath leaves her body once he releases inside of her. Hot white ribbons shoot out and paint her walls with the image of a sensational love. It warms her center, her lips turning up in a lazy smile as he remains within her even after the final drop has left his tip. Once they’re heaving chests calm to a natural pace, he collapses on top of her, arms willing their way between her and the mattress to gather her into a tender embrace. She scratches the back of his head and sighs contently.

“To think we could’ve been doing that for,” and she counts the years on each one of her fingers.

Harry chuckles in between her breasts, then reaches up and plants a quick but sweet kiss to her lips. “How long are you going to be holding onto that one?” She pretends to think, her mouth quirking to the side as her brows furrow in contemplation. “Until we make up for all that wasted time.”

***

“I got you something.” She looks up at him, her body still wrapped in his arms as they lay naked in his bed. Memories of what feels like another life flip through her head.

“Is this what déjà vu feels like?”

He rolls his eyes. “Do you want it or not?”

Smiling, she kisses enthusiastically and nods her head. He gets up, and she has to stop herself from frowning when they lose all contact. She sinks into the sheets and waits impatiently for him to come back. Listening to him rummage through his closet, then to the growling of her tummy–and she makes a quick mental note to ask him to order something for them in a while––she tries to relive every detail from the last few hours in her head. She didn’t know that sex was supposed to feel so good.

“You told me that you hadn’t drawn in almost ten years,” he states, making his way back to the bed, but this time, with a bag clutched in his hands. He places it in her lap, then slips between her and the headboard, arms going back to their initial position. “Maybe it’s time you started back up.”

Y/n opens the enclosed wrappings. Inside the bag is a new sketchbook and a carton of 9H pencils. She carefully grazes her fingers above them. There’s a feeling in her chest, like she’s just been reunited with an old friend.

“But what would I even draw?” She’d lost all sight of that part of her life, and it seems unlikely that those creative juices will just come trickling back to her now.

Harry kisses the side of her head, and she leans into him easily.

“Whatever inspires you.”

It’s just that easy. She closes her eyes and reflects on what has always made her feel any bit positive. Ava and her bluntness; her dad and his sense of duty to his family; Nan and Gramps and their playful bickering; Nan and her proclivity for gossip; Gramps and his hatred for ties. All of them had been a comfort to her, even when she hadn’t realized it. They were part of what had kept her afloat.

Feeling Harry’s heartbeat press up against her back, she knows that she’ll never have to worry about drowning. She opens her sketchbook to its first clean page and lets herself be happy.

***

“Thanks for meeting us here,” Jared says, offering her a modest grin. “I would’ve understood if you didn’t want to.” Penny nods beside him. Jared had texted her and asked if she would meet them for lunch, so that they could talk. At first, Y/n didn’t think that necessary. What was the point when it was all out in the open now? But with some convincing from Harry, she realized that she had to confront this.

“There’s no moving on if we don’t talk about it.” Y/n takes the seat across from Penny. She looks at the girl she’d consider a sister, studying her rounded and healthier features. Pregnancy looks good on her. “You look good.”

Penny smiles thankfully. “So do you.”

They talk about everything, even the stuff that feels like it should hurt. But it doesn’t. Clarity exists where it hadn’t before. She tells them that about Harry, and apparently it isn’t much of a shock to anyone, which shocks her. Jared then admits to having had all these doubts about their relationship but had stuck through it because of his own insecurities. That had had hit close to home for Y/n. It’s somewhat of a relief that she hadn’t been the only one who felt that what they had was temperamental.

“You were there for me when I was at my worst, and for that, I’ll always love you,” Jared sighs, reaching across the table and taking her hand. “But...”

“That’s all we were meant to be.”

He nods sadly, pulling back. His other arm is around Penny’s chair, and Y/n can see his fingers playing with the ends of her ponytail.

Penny must notice this, and she quickly shrugs him away. “Sorry,” she mutters.

Y/n shakes her head. “It’s fine,” she waves it off. “This was good. At least now we can all carry on with our lives.” She gets out of her chair. “Good luck,” she says to the both of them. Then she looks directly at Penny. “I know you’re worried about making all the same mistakes as your mum, but...” she smiles, “someone said to me that mistakes aren’t genetic. I know you. And I know how much you love your baby. Just promise me you’ll be there for her.”

With that she turns towards the exit. Before she can get far, however, she feels a hand grab her own. She looks back, and it’s Penny. Her eyes are teary, and her chest lifts erratically. “Do you think that...” she swallows, “...that you’ll ever forgive me?”

“Do I still get to be called auntie?”

Penny lets out a stifled giggle. “Yes.”

Y/n touches her comfortingly on the shoulder. “Then, one day.”

She walks out of there feeling completely at peace with herself.

***

Two Years Later

The newest exhibit proves to be a hit. It’s smaller than its predecessors, this time only containing the work from a single artist.

She and Harry walk hand-in-hand, greeting all of guests and just enjoying each other’s company. Gramps isn’t moping as much as he usually does, and she thinks it’s because Nan’s bought him a clip-on tie that doesn’t strangle him around the neck. Ava and Nan are gossiping with some potential investors, while her dad tries to apologize on their behalf.

On the other side, her mum and Lawrence discuss color theory in relation to one of the spotlight pieces. She catches a glimpse of the civility between her parents when they catch each other’s eyes from across the room.

“I think it’s the gallery’s best showcase yet,” Harry tells her and kisses her on the lips. “Really, I don’t see how anything might top this.”

Y/n laughs. “You’re just trying to get laid.”

Harry wags his eyebrows. “Is it working?” She doesn’t need to give him an answer with words, so instead, she pulls him by the lapels of his jacket and their lips meet in another sweet kiss.

They stop in front of the piece in the very back, the one that’s drawn in the most viewers. They squeeze through the polluted crowd until they’re close enough to the front. He wraps his arms around her, and they both admire its beauty.

Two kids laid out on the grass; eyes closed with content smiles on their faces. The sky above them, a product of their combined imaginations as well as the excitement of hopes and dreams.

Below the canvas is a placcard with the painting’s information.

Y/n Styles, Purple Clouds and Tangerine Skies.

***

A/N: HOPE YOU LIKED IT!

#harry styles #harry style imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles writing #harry styles au #one direction #writing

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kkeidawrites · 4 years

Text

That Night

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Loki x African!goddess reader

I see that there is not a lot of Loki x reader stories which I think is weird, so I decided to write a couple of my own. And nobody is gone stop me either. So enjoy this first chapter to an upcoming mini series!

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A party was perhaps always being held in Asgard. Whether it was Thor returning home, another battle won, or Hell they had a party just because. It was quite a bore with the constant partying and the people that would attend made things even more boring.

The dancers would shake their hips the same way and the dishes the servants would serve were always be the same. Nothing was new. Nothing peaked my interest.

The whispers about me never ceased, being the adopted son of Odin, the infamous Loki, God of Mischief, still chasing his father’s tailcoats for the throne. Loki, the forgotten son. The son with no legacy. Bah, it was all the same. I should turn everyone here in the hall into gremlins.

I sat on a plush sofa, pretty much on my own, since nobody would want to sit by the trickster Loki. It’s fine, not like I had that many friends anyway.

A jester preformed a trick making the crowds express gasps of excitement and claps rang out in the hall. I rolled my eyes, I will never understand how people can be so interested in this.

I did not want to attend this worthless banquet in the first place, but my mother bless her soul, is a very persuasive woman and I unfortunately fall for it every time. Now, here I was, dressed in green almost black robes and armor that had some pieces of gold imbedded into it.

Swirling the wine in my cup, the familiar sound of heels clacking against the polished marbled floor made my eyes look up.

The black dress reminded me of the stars in the galaxy, it caressed her dark skin and hugged all the curves on her figure. Her hair coily and I bet if I had the chance to touch it it would be as soft as a lamb’s wool. It covered the side of her face and I didn’t have the chance to get a good look at her, but, just from how she carried herself, I knew she had to be beautiful. Probably for the best I didn’t see what she looked like, who would turn their interests on the God of Mischief? She held her head up high as if she were the queen of Asgard herself.

As she walked into the banquet hall, her pace was quick as she approached my mother who was standing with her normal group of nobles and who in turn brought the beauty in a warm embrace. She smiled in greeting to the woman as she spoke to my mother. The way they spoke made it seem like they have known each other for years.

Taking a swig of my wine, I averted my eyes elsewhere. She was probably another noble that was only here to attend the banquet then return to wherever she had came from to brag about her time on Asgard. There were many of Gods and Goddesses who took advantage of our kingdom to try and take over. I scoffed at the thought, every time that someone would try and take Asgard would only return to their realm in pieces, how others think so little of Asgard when we indeed are the best.

The clacking of heels broke me from my thoughts and my mother calling my name made me look up to see both my mother and the mysterious woman. Damnit, I hated being right, she wasn’t just beautiful, she was gorgeous. A vision. I gulped at how beautiful she was and I saw my mother flick her wrist up to tell me to stand up and present myself. I stood up from the couch fixing the front of my robes.

I looked her over, shamelessly and my eyes lingered on her chest until my mother cleared her throat to avert my eyes to hers. She tilted her head towards the woman and I cleared my throat, placing a hand on my chest to bow my head in greeting.

“Good evening mother, as always you are the most beautiful in all of Asgard.” I say. My mother waves away my compliment, bashful of my words and puts a hand on the woman’s arm.

“This is Mawu, she is the Goddess of the night, of joy, and of motherhood as well as the ruler of Midgard’s wisdom and knowledge. You have met her mother, Nana Buluku a couple of times.” Frigga says.

I roll my eyes at that. I had met that woman thousands of years ago, I cannot remember what she looked like. The beauty, Mawu, looks me over then raises an eyebrow at me.

“He is your son?” She turns to mother.

“Yes, my youngest,” Frigga says with pride in her voice and I can’t help but, give a small smile.

“Mm, he is tiny.” She looks me over one more time.

“Need to eat something, these fruits and cheeses are not enough to help him grow.” She states and I became baffled at her declaration making my mother laugh and I frowned in annoyance. What is it with women and wanting their men big and muscled? I am plenty strong with my lean figure.

“Allow me to take him back to my realm and he will return with a stronger body,” Mawu tells mother. Frigga waves her hand in my direction.

“I tell him to eat more but, he only nibbles on the food we offer him.” She sighs and I roll my eyes once more, taking a large sip of my wine then using my magic to make my cup disappear.

“Mother, did you bring your friend over here just to spite me?” I asked her, putting my hands behind my back and a clench in my jaw.

“No, of course not, my love,” she smiles and then moved Mawu closer to my person. The woman took a few steps away from me.

“I wanted you two,” Frigga points between us as she continues, “to get to know each other better.” She says making both of our heads turn to look at one another in shock then back to Frigga’s grinning face.

“You cannot be serious.” I say as Mawu crosses her arms.

“Quite serious my son, Mawu will be staying here for a couple of weeks as her mother has asked me to oh, how do the midgardians phrase it? Ah, yes “get her ass out of the house”. And so, she will be staying in the royal quarters for the time being and I want the two of you,” she points between us again. “To get to know each other better. Have a pleasant evening.” Frigga finishes and turns to return back to her group of allies. Mawu scoffs in disbelief and leaves my side to leave through where she came in.

Subconsciously, I followed after her, her heels clicking quickly against the floor, she was clearly upset. She wasn’t the only one upset. Get to know me better? Just what is mother planning? And why was I following her?

Mawu’s POV

I had stopped in the middle of the long hallways of Odin’s castle and turned my head to an open door where a balcony was located. I laid my hands on the balustrade and looked at the cotten candy skyline, as it slowly turned to night. Here on Asgard was hard to tell if it was night or not, they had no moon to go off of and the stars that were apparent determined different coordinates.

I sighed and leaned my arms against the balustrade leaning my head on my wrists. A couple weeks of being in this realm will be challenging. I’m not used to taking such long breaks like this, I just hoped that the Earth will still be there for me when I return.

I was set up. Mother told me that it had been a while since I last been to Asgard, to see Lady Frigga especially and she thought that a visit would be nice. How easily I was tricked by her and Lady Frigga. Don’t get me wrong I loved Lady Frigga as a second mother, but, the thought of having to trick me into staying here for a long duration of time really unsettled me.

Sighing once more, I closed my eyes as I felt the wind blow into my face. The breeze blowing against my hair that resembled a cloud. Using my powers, I conjured up a small ball of light that allowed me to see the children of Earth. It was a particular group of children that I had been watching over for a while. Perhaps from their great grandparents up until the new generation, I think I’ve lost count.

I watched as all the children played and the adults that I once looked after when they were children tended to their own brood. I smiled sadly. These children were my children. Even if I didn’t birth them, they were mine. A child, a little boy named Abioye, smiled and I felt my bottom lip quiver.

Swiping away the image, I felt a few tears rush down my cheeks. Quickly wiping them away, I took a deep breath and then looked down at my shoes. They were beautiful but, so constricting, I pulled them off my feet and stretched my toes, sighing in bliss.

“Lady Mawu,” I looked up to see a male guard bowing before me. I straightened my back to address him.

“Yes,”

“Your quarters are ready for you.” He says. Nodding, I allowed him to lead me to my room. Peaking a look over my shoulder, I noticed a familiar pair of green eyes watching me. With a ‘hmph’ I turned my eyes forward and continued to follow the guard.

With Loki

That insufferable woman dare turn her nose up at me?! I scoffed in disbelief and used my powers to return to my mother in the banquet hall. Kissing her goodnight, I walked out another exit to my chambers.

Once I arrived at my room, I noticed the guard that guided the Goddess to her quarters and stretched my neck to see that he was leaving from the room right next to mine.

“You there!” I halt the guard as he immediately stopped and bowed to me.

“Did you just lead that moon Goddess into the room next to mines?” I ask.

“Yes, your majesty, it was specific instructions that your mother gave.” He says and I groan out in annoyance.

“Your majesty?”

“Begone. I have no more use of you.” I spat and the guard bows again, quickly leaving my sight.

Looking towards the closed door, I put my hands on my hips and nodded my head then entered my room with a slam to the doors.

Plopping down onto my bed, I placed my hands behind my head and sighed deeply. Mother was making things so difficult. What purpose did she need to give me someone to...bond with? I have managed to be on my own before what’s different now?

Sniff, sniff

Sob, whimper

I heard soft crying from the wall behind me and I got up from my bed and moved to the nearest wall, placing an ear towards it, to hear indeed crying on the other side.

I don’t know what it was but, her crying made my heart break a bit. Sighing, I removed myself from the wall and plopped back down onto my bed. Her sobs were slowly growing louder and I gritted my teeth.

Waving my hand, I allowed a small bunny to appear in my palm and allowed it to phase through the wall, I waited in anticipation of the small...I guess I will call it a gift.

With Mawu

She had changed into her silk nightgown and immediately her tears returned.

The sobs continued to fall from her lips as she laid across the large bed. Why she was crying? Unfortunately, Mawu has separation anxiety and the thought that she can’t be close to her ‘children’ broke her heart. Sniffling, she raised her head from the cradle of her arms and jumped when she saw a black lump sitting in front of her.

The large floppy ears twitched slightly as the pink nose sniffed. Sitting up, she got a closer look at the small being and she realized that it was indeed a black rabbit.

“Hello, there,” she coos as she reached a hand out to the rabbit. The cotton tailed furry snuggled into her awaiting hand and Mawu giggled at the feel of it’s nose.

“Where did you come from?” She asks as she picks up the rabbit and holds it in her lap. She scratched under its chin and felt the thump of the rabbits right foot popping her thigh in delight.

“I think I’ll call you, Irawo.” She tells the rabbit who thumps its right foot again in delight.

Giggling again, Mawu allowed the rabbit to play around on her bed and then caressed its head, liking the soft fur.

With Loki

The God of Mischief allowed a small grin to appear on his lips as he listened to the Moon Goddess’s giggles.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

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End of Ch.1

Ch. 2⬅️

Ch. 3⬅️

What is up with tumblr and other places where Loki doesn’t have a lot of fanfics? I don’t understand he just as fine as Thor. But, anyway, I hope you guys like this first chapter to this mini story I’m hooking y’all up with! I love me some Loki so be sure to expect more of him and a black reader as well! Thank you all for reading and be sure to like, comment and reblog!

#loki laufeyson x reader #Loki x black!reader #black!reader #black reader #marvel x reader #marvel x black!reader #fanfiction #my fanfiction #my writing #black oc #loki marvel #that night ch. 1

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hotdogct · 3 years

Text

as dreamers do ||| n.jm

pairing: na jaemin x reader genre: fluff words: 2.2k a/n: hello!!! this is my first piece of writing in a very long time, so apologies if its all over the place/makes no sense!!! obviously this is all a work of fiction, disclaimer, blablabla, idk what i’m doing i just wanted to write drabbles about nct lmao, so with that being said!!!! ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Do you trust me?”

You roll your eyes in the direction of your coworker, Jaemin, who was sitting across from you in the fluorescent lit break room located just behind Splash Mountain’s gift shop and exit. The two of you were part of the massive workforce of college aged youth that Disney recruited every year to staff their theme parks and resorts. While you weren’t initially thrilled with your role as a custodian, you learned to appreciate its quirks - and that included the unique cast of characters otherwise known as your coworkers. From the full-timers that did their best to ignore your presence, knowing another semester would just bring a fresh wave of new faces, to your fellow program cohorts - Jaemin being one of them.

Assuming he was just quoting Aladdin at you, you offer no response to Jaemin’s initial query and continue scrolling through your phone, shoveling the few remaining cheese crackers from the nearby vending machine down your throat, intending on savoring the remaining minutes of your last break for the evening.

Your thoughts wandered back to your fellow cast members. There was Daehwi, sheltered and away from home for the first time, affectionately nicknamed ‘baby’ by everyone he befriended. Wendy, with her melodic voice and cheerful disposition, eager to break into song at a moments notice. Lucas, who might’ve come to Florida to party first, but worked equally hard. Hani, who arrived a few weeks after you, always the first to come help when you radio that your restroom has overflowed, again. Even Jinho, who had initially fooled you with his youthful looks before revealing this was his third time through the program, had somehow wormed his way into your heart. But nobody had been as captivating as Jaemin. When you first met him in passing in the cramped break room, you were convinced casting had made a mistake, that he was lost on his way to costuming for entertainment. He certainly looked like a prince - perfectly straight teeth, boyishly handsome good looks. A few days later he was assigned to clean the same bathrooms as you - “bathroom buddies” as everyone affectionately would call the practice. There, in the shared stockrooms, you learned who Jaemin was beyond his beautiful face - how his friends back home called him Nana, that he was studying photography in college, that he was an only child, a helluva flirt. Even your music tastes were similar, a fact you discovered on one of the many cramped, late night bus rides back to program housing where the two of you stood packed shoulder to shoulder, like sardines in a can. Jaemin interacted with guests both young and young at heart with an effortless charm and grace. Your managers loved him immediately, and before you knew it, you found yourself incredibly enamored with him too.

It wasn’t until his hand suddenly broke through your field of vision, blocking sight of your phone, that you realized Jaemin had stood up and was now standing directly in front of you. His head covered the harshest of the overhead lights, casting a soft halo glow around his black, messy hair and broad shoulders. He smiles down at you, innocently, and you feel your heartbeat accelerate when your eyes meet his own.

“Do you trust me?” he asks, again. This time, without thought, you place your hand firmly in his.

******

Jaemin leads you out of the blinding light of the break room silently, into the dark of the early winter evening. Eyes still adjusting, you follow behind him, thankful that your corner of the park was mostly deserted - Splash Mountain still closed for the season, only a few stragglers were coming and going to use the restroom in the area. You vaguely remember that Jaemin had been assigned a nearby zone to clean that evening - which was it again…?

He leads you up a flight up stairs, then, and that’s when it hits you. Train Zone. The Frontierland Railroad Station. It was an easy zone to clean, as the railroad shut down early each night before the fireworks display. Gathering the trash in an empty zone like this was a godsend, especially when compared to the other ride queues you had to clean, oftentimes fighting constant guest traffic like a fish swimming upstream.

Lost in your thoughts, you follow behind Jaemin as he completes his task diligently, making sure each trash can within the train station is empty and re-bagged for the next morning. It had been a few days since the two of you had worked in neighboring areas, and you often found yourself tongue tied when around him. The background music loop of Frontierland was noticeably absent, the speakers within the station shut off for the night. This led to Jaemin singing nonsense songs while tying up trash bags and wiping down surfaces, dancing lightly on his feet.

Turkey leg-g-g

At the train

D-d-d-driving me insane~

All you could do was laugh at his antics, and before you knew it, the nearby banana boat parked at the exit ramp was full of trash bags. Satisfied with the results of your hard work, you were about to begin the walk to backstage, where the dumpsters were located, when Jaemin turned about face, walking instead towards the train station.

“What are you doing?!” you hiss, not wanting to shout but needing to stress your confusion at his actions. Jaemin stops at the gate, unlatches it, before turning around, beckoning you over with a smile.

“I asked you if you trusted me, didn’t I?” his voice low in your ear upon your arrival at his side, banana boat now parked safely out of any guest traffic. Jaemin unlocks the gate for you, both of you falling silent on your walk back up into the depths of the train station - no more cute, silly songs spilling from his lips.

“Are you sure we aren’t going to get caught?” your voice carries louder than intended across the empty room as you go through the turnstile, and you wince.

Jaemin’s boisterous laugh took you by surprise, followed a moment later by his hand ruffling the top of your head, messing up your hair. As if to say, foolish.

“Getting the trash from up here is technically our responsibility. So what if it took us a little long?”

He was right - the best part of your job was the agency it provided. Sure, you were cleaning up garbage and bathrooms and vomit, but you could walk around freely. Explore hidden corners and crevices of the park. You knew all too well the allures of the shared hallway between the Frontierland restrooms, the stock closet next to the Veranda breezeway, the dumpster behind the Haunted Mansion - places the rest of your desperately horny coworkers had used to hook up in weeks prior. As you follow Jaemin around a corner towards the front of the station, through an open passageway, you wonder if that’s what he has in mind. That is, until you see the view in front of you.

Jaemin had led you to a small balcony that overlooked the whole expanse of Frontierland. From above you could spot guests walking about the park to and fro, the Rivers of America flowing gently behind them in the distance. Bits and pieces of Cinderella’s Castle were visible through the tree line, shining bright in multicolor as the nightly projection show proceeded to play.

“Jaem, it’s….”

“Nice, isn’t it?” He finishes your thought for you, his hand brushing over the staged decorations of fake barrels and crates against the wall of the balcony that seemed perfect to sit upon. Moments later, Jaemin plops down with a satisfied smile on his face and pats the space beside him, silently asking you to join him.

“Nice is an understatement” you offer in reply. A small laugh leaves his lips, a breeze rolls through. For just a moment, it is quiet and still.

“I’ve been wanting to show you this place for a while, but the stars just never aligned right until tonight.”

“You mean, the computer system that automates scheduling and staffing didn’t randomly place us in neighboring areas of the park until to-” Jaemin’s stiff elbow into your side lets you know to drop the wit. That you could do, but a question lingered in your mind, still, and you did have to voice your sole concern.

“How do you not get caught up here?”

Jaemin turns around, points to the solitary light on the balcony, and it’s then that you notice the bulb is off. You might feel exposed looking down upon everyone, but quickly realize that nobody is looking up at the closed train station - let alone looking for two cast members in white uniforms in the dark, goofing off on a weeknight.

Fooling around…

You were thankful for the cover of darkness in that moment, as you felt your cheeks turn crimson at the thought. Being alone, with Jaemin, this close, in the dark...This all seemed very sudden, despite everyone knowing about your big crush on Nana - he had to know too?

“So,” Jaemin’s voice cuts through your ever-racing thoughts, and your chest goes cold. “A little birdie told me there’s something you really, really like…”

If jumping off the balcony was a safe option, in that moment, you would’ve taken it. A confirmation of your worst fears - that Jaemin was aware of your ridiculous, schoolgirl like crush on him. You are speechless, sunken, pulse racing, and terrified.

Without the usual cue of area music, caught up in the last hour, you had missed your usual clues. A loud boom caused you to jump in your seat, out of your brain, head immediately turning towards Jaemin - only to make eye contact with him, bright lights reflecting off the surface, who smiles and motions for you to turn around. Of course.

If you were known for one thing amongst your cohorts, it was that you loved fireworks. Even on the most hectic of nights you found a way to make sure you were outside during the nightly display, never taking for granted that you were being paid to watch the sky light up in time to music. You had your favorite spots to watch from, but had never once considered the train station. From the corner of Frontierland, it felt like the fireworks were almost on top of you - cascading down upon Big Thunder Mountain Railroad, the expanse of empty night sky providing the perfect canvas. As the speakers above you were silent, there was no accompanying soundtrack, but it didn’t matter - you knew the whole show by heart. You were unaware of how long your mouth had been hanging open in blissful, childlike wonder, only noticing when Jaemin gently pressed his finger up against your chin, closing the space between your upper and lower lip through simple momentum. Moments later, his hand brushed over yours, testing the waters, and finding no complaint, interlocked his fingers with yours, and gravity pulls your head to his shoulder. A soft, steady hum leaves his lips, as you settle into this newfound bliss.

The rest of the fireworks show plays out in front of the two of you - two white ghosts in a dark shadow, illuminated by glowing streaks and bursts of color from the night sky. You’re working at the most magical place on earth, sure, but this felt like the most magical moment of your life.

Before you know it, the sky calms again, signaling the end of the show. You remain frozen for a moment, not wanting to leave. When you finally stand back up, awkwardly untangling yourself from Jaemin’s frame in a rushed manner, you can almost feel yourself floating back down to the ground, back to reality. Jaemin, your co-worker, Jaemin the flirt. He brought you up here just to watch the fireworks after all. Had you been a bit more outgoing, a bit less awkward, maybe...

Taking a few steps towards the entryway, a sudden hand on your wrist pulls you against the wall - thankfully, out of sight of any guests, but now engulfing your entire body in shadow. And it’s here in the darkness that Jaemin’s hand releases itself from your wrist, finds its way up to your cheek. Here, he leans in and kisses you - pressing his chapped lips against yours gently, but with enough intent and purpose that you swear you were seeing stars after a few moments. It doesn’t last long, as all fairytales would tell you. When you part, Jaemin rests his forehead against yours, both slightly damp from the Florida humidity, and you can feel him smile against you, somehow breathless, letting out a low chuckle, before asking,

“Did you think I was talking about the fireworks?”

#na jaemin #nct fanfic #nct dream fanfic #nct dream #nct fluff #jaemin #nct scenarios #na jaemin fluff #na jaemin fic #jaemin fic #jaemin fluff #nct x reader #jaemin x reader #nct dream fluff

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loudsuitlover · 4 years

Text

Doctor Harry V Golfa

A/N: Smut And I think it’s the smuttiest thing I’ve ever written. I’M NOT OKAY AFTER THESE 9K WORDS

Harry: Strain

Harry: Just dinner 😊

I read his text messages as if they were going to change or as if reading them several times is going to change the way I feel about this. About him.

I still don’t think this is quite right. I know Harry says this won’t affect me or my studies but just thinking about what people would think if they found out makes me sick at the pit of my stomach. I’m not really a judgy person. Most of the time I just simply don’t care enough about what people do so as to even talk about it but I still have pretty high standards. Harry is not a woman. That’s something he’d never get. He’s so chill about this because he’s a man and he knows no one would give him too much shit about this but I’m a woman and I’m a student and I bet if people found out they’d say I was doing him to get a high grade instead of what would be more likely that he was taking advantage of me because I’m younger and a student like he said before. None of them are true but the second would be more legit to think about even though I know people would rather choose the first.

I walk inside the restaurant alone. I insisted on coming here on my own. I would be mortified if someone had seen us walking down the street in the middle of the city centre together. He chose a rather expensive restaurant. Not that I care. Moreover, this is good; students won’t be there. I hope that was the reason he did it and not that he’s trying to impress me because trying to impress me with money is really not a good idea.

A waitress walks with me when I tell her the name of my date. I bet she’s jealous and I bet she too is wondering why someone like him would ever want to have dinner with me. I don’t know either. He stands up from his chair the minute he spots us and he grins like a movie star. I have to swallow the lump in my throat.

“Fuck.” He grins.

His inappropriate language surprises me. It contrasts with the rest of it, with his suit, the restaurant, the expensive cloth over the table. I give him a look and take a seat before he can play the gentleman and move my chair for me. I hate when guys do that.

“You look breath-taking.”

“Thank you.”

I don’t tell him he looks incredible even though he does. I’m not sure when I got this attitude towards him but it’s like I can’t stop. I’m just waiting for the moment he starts laughing and tell me this was all just a joke.

“Can I offer you something to drink?” The waitress asks us.

“What would you like to have?”

“May I have a glass of Sanamaro, please?”

The waitress nods and turns to look at Harry but he’s staring at me. The green of his eyes makes me nervous and I’m afraid the shell I’ve been working on the entire day might falter this early in the night.

“A bottle of water for me, thank you.”

Water? He smiles at me.

“You look really pretty with your lips painted red.”

I give him a sincere smile.

“You don’t have to compliment me.”

The corner of his lips turn into a delicious smile and I think I might need some water after all too.

“I was just thinking out loud.” He shrugs. “And you also know about wine.”

I shake my head.

“My dad loves wine.” I tell him. “And my mum’s Spanish.”

“She is?”

“Yes.”

“Do you speak Spanish then?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Sí.”

I grin at his reaction. I don’t know why he’s so fascinated about this. It’s not like I told him I know how to build aircrafts. I’m just bilingual and it’s not really on me or something to be excessively proud of. My family is bilingual so I am too. That’s all.

The waitress appears with my glass of wine and a bottle of water she places between us and asks whether we’re ready to order the dishes. We haven’t even looked at the menu so Harry shakes his head and I open the black menu in front of me. He mimics me and I run my eyes over the different meals, deciding on something that doesn’t make my breath stink. I love food that makes your breath stink, like blue cheese and garlic and onion. I remember my Nana used to tell me ladies shouldn’t eat those things outside of home and I remember the garlic bread banquets the two of us would have every time I stayed over with them. I feel a smile making its way on my mouth.

“What did you want to ask me?”

God, he doesn’t waste time. He must see the surprise on my expression because he chuckles.

“I want you to have fun.” He explains. “I don’t want you to be thinking all night when you can ask me your question so let’s just start with that and then I can have dinner with chill Indie.”

I almost flinch. It’s clear to see he doesn’t know me much. There’s no such thing as chill Indie.

“But you have to promise you won’t leave when I answer.” He raises his eyebrows.

The waitress comes back to take our orders. I feel like she’s some sort of cheetah waitress and she’s been hiding behind a ficus waiting for us to talk so she can jump and do her job. I hope she gets a high salary. She doesn’t even speak to us. Instead she just stands next to our table waiting for us to speak. I wonder if the owner asks minimum contact between waiters and clients. Some rich people are that stupid. Harry looks at me so I order first.

“I’d have roasted wild sea bass with basil oil, thank you.”

“And that’s it?” Harry asks me and I nod. “Do you like cheese?” I nod again and he smiles. “I’d have the white truffle entrecot and we’d share the French cheese board, please.”

He ordered cheese for sharing. I think I’m falling in love. I don’t know to what extent he was joking when he said I’d have to promise not to leave after I get my answer and even though I decided, after a long conversation with Marie, that I can’t just pretend going out with my mentor is alright; I don’t want him to think I’m here for any other reason that me wanting to be here so I tell him just that.

“I promise but Harry, I’m here because I want to be here.”

“Good.” He grins. “Now go on, ask me.”

“How can you be so sure you’ll answer even if you don’t know what I’m going to ask you?”

“Just to be sure, this is not the question, right?” He jokes.

I shake my head and chuckle.

“Well, I didn’t think you were going to ask something I wouldn’t want you to know but now that you said that, I’m not so sure.” He chuckles nervously.

I bring my glass of wine to my lips and enjoy the familiar taste and then I change my question.

“Why don’t you drink?”

His green eyes stare into mine as he keeps quite for a few seconds. He could have simply told me he just doesn’t feel like drinking tonight and then I would ask him whether he didn’t feel like drinking the other night at The Chains either and he could have said no again and that could have been it; but his reaction makes it clear that he does not drink.

“Do you need to know that?”

“Pardon?”

“Do you need to know that so as to get to know me?”

I shrug.

“I guess not. It’s more out of curiosity than it is out of need.”

He nods as his beautiful green eyes get lost somewhere behind me. Beautiful green eyes? Who am I? Jane Austen?

“I don’t like it.”

I set my eyes on his. I like that he’s not afraid of answering my questions. I like that he’s so carefree as if he doesn’t have a problem letting me get to know him but I don’t want to make him feel uncomfortable telling me things he doesn’t want to share. God knows I wouldn’t reciprocate with a secret.

“You don’t have to tell me.”

He breathes in.

“There’s nothing more to tell. It’s that simple.”

I nod. The waitress gets to the table with the cheese board before we can say something else. I swear this woman is the ninja of the tables. I chuckle at my own joke and feel my cheeks tinging pink just by thinking Harry would probably think that joke is so childish. I mean it is.

“I like your laughter.” He smiles. “I know you said I didn’t have to compliment you but I tend to say what’s on my mind so get used to it.”

“You’ll also tell me something bad?”

He drops a piece of emmental on his mouth and chews before he speaks.

“If I think it, yes.” He shrugs.

“Do you always do that?” I smile amused.

“What?” His eyes open in curiosity.

“Say what’s on your mind.”

“I mean, not always.” He laughs. “I know when to keep my mouth shut. Otherwise I wouldn’t have a job. But I don’t lie.”

“You never lie?”

He shakes his head smirking. He looks like a naughty kid. I instantly think if I were him, I would have said that out loud and chuckle again.

“You, on the other hand, don’t always say what’s on your mind.” He notices.

“Of course not.” I laugh.

“That’s why I’m holding back.” He smiles.

I take a breath. I don’t want him to hold him back. I think it’s funny when he’s so spontaneous and I envy him for that. I used to be pretty spontaneous too, according to those who loved me, but it’s been a long time since that.

“That’s a shame.” I smile. “I quite like it when you say weird things.”

“Weird things?” He chuckles, picking small pieces of cheese and bringing them to his mouth. “You said you liked cheese.”

“I do.”

“Then taste some.” He encourages me. “They’re really good.”

I study the board carefully. There’s camembert, brie, emmental, another type of pressed cheese I don’t know and two different blue cheese. I would gladly take one of the blue types, specially a little piece with too much blue on it to be Roquefort that’s calling my name but instead I wrap my fingers around a small piece of one of the pressed cheese and take a grape before pulling them both in my mouth. He's smiling at me in a way that makes me want to know what he’s thinking.

“What?” I talk with my mouth full making him chuckle.

“I’d want to kiss you even if you had that blue one, you know?”

My eyes widen and I feel the heat of the sun on my cheeks. He chuckles and takes the piece I was looking at before and places it on the corner of my plate the exact same second the waitress places it on the table.

I smile at him as I take the small bite to my mouth. I knew it was blue because it tasted like heaven. I think of my grandma and I think she would like him just by that little gesture. He might be more attentive that I give him credit for. Also, that stupid sentence has me wanting him to kiss me. I feel my mood lighten and grab another piece with another grape, probably to stop thinking about the kiss he mentioned.

“So you’re supposed to have them together.” He states.

I smile before I suck my lips inside my mouth and when I look back at him I catch him staring at my lips. I’m proud of myself for the choice of lipstick.

“I don’t know if that’s how you’re supposed to have them.” I seem to have nothing but smiles for him tonight. “But that’s how we eat them at home. You know in Spanish we say uva y queso sabe a beso.”

I can almost hear the air coming in through his nose as I say that. I think he really does like it that I can speak Spanish.

“It means grape and cheese taste like a kiss.” My eyes widen as my eyebrows raise on my forehead. It’s the first time I translate that to English. “It rhymes in English too.”

He chuckles. He seems to be having fun too.

“But does it?”

I shrug and look down at my plate before his green eyes put me under his spell. My phone starts vibrating uncontrollably on my purse. I wouldn’t normally check it but one never knows when David might try to kill.

“Sorry.”

Harry shrugs and shakes his head letting me know it’s okay but I just see that it’s The Golden Girls that are chatting and leave the phone on the table. After a couple minutes of silence on my part, I start receiving texts on the private chats and they pop on my locked screen.

Olivia: How is it going?

My eyes search for Harry’s but I’m met with a naughty smirk and eyes that look down at the table. He chuckles and my eyes almost bulge as I read Jason’s text.

Jason: What’s the size of his penis?

As fast as I can, I flip my phone leaving the screen facing the table and tack my hair behind my ear as I try to avoid to look into his eyes. He’s so nosy so I’m sure he read it. I’m going to kill Jason.

“You can pick up.” He says to my surprise.

“It’s not a call. It’s just texts.”

“Who texts you that much?” He smiles smugly. “You said you didn’t have a boyfriend.”

It surprises me how much my mood can change when I’m with him. One second I’m playing tough, the other he breaks my walls and I’m all smiley and then he acts as if he own the place and I see the wall rebuilding itself all over again.

“If I had a boyfriend, I wouldn’t be here.”

He must sense the change on my mood because his expression hardens and his smug smirk is gone, but only for a moment because then he shrugs and his obnoxious smirk is back on his face.

“We said it’s just a dinner anyway. You could have a boyfriend and still have dinner with other people.” He shrugs.

“Do you say that because you have a girlfriend?”

“I’ve told you before I don’t have a girlfriend.” A smile breaks through his face as he’s trying to hold back laughter.

“Is the question funny to you?”

“Kind of.” He chuckles. “I’ve just never had a girlfriend.”

My eyebrows raise.

“Never?”

He shakes his head as he busies himself with his steak.

“Why?”

“I don’t have time. I’ve never had time for that, really.”

“Well, if you had a girlfriend you could be having dinner with her right now.”

“And instead I’m having dinner with you.” He smirks. “I don’t want a girlfriend anyway.” He shrugs. “Too many strings attached.”

“It’s a relationship, not a boat.”

I don’t know why it bothers me. It was clear he hadn’t asked me on a date because he wanted a girlfriend but then I don’t understand why he’d insist on going out with me. Does that mean he’s only interested in me because of my body? It’s not like I’m the hottest woman in town. I’m not even the hottest woman in this room. He must have some weird fetiche or something.

“Do you meet many women at the hospital?” He raises his eyebrows encouraging me to go on. “Like you met me, for instance.” I shrug.

“No.” He shakes his head.

I hate that I like his answer. He chews on his steak with his green eyes investigating me. His hair has fallen on his forehead and he’s staring at me hard. It’s fascinating how attractive he really is. Black shirts look so good on him too. I entertain my eyes with the way the soft fabric falls on top of his broad shoulders and how they move up and down with his breathing. It’s calming me to watch him breathe.

“You always get uncomfortable when we talk about this.” He points out. My eyebrows almost meet. “Are you seeing someone?” He presses. “Maybe he’s not your boyfriend but it’s enough to make you tense up. It’s okay, you can tell me, I’m not jealous.” He smiles.

What makes me tense up is all these questions. Sometimes it feels like I’m on an interrogation and all of a sudden he wasn’t a doctor but a FBI agent. I look away from him.

“I’m just trying to understand.” He defends. “Your mood changes pretty easily.”

“So does yours.”

“No, it doesn’t.” He defends. “I’m enjoying my time with you, except when you get all cloudy and push me away.”

“You asked me out because you wanted to get to know me, didn’t you?”

He nods.

“Well, this is me.” I shrug. He better understands that now before he creates this idea of me on his head.

“Okay.” He says.

My eyes move up from the table to his. He gives me a peacemaker smile and my eyes narrow as my brows look for each other on a scowl.

“That easy?”

He just laughs.

“Easy? Indie, you’re anything but easy.” He chuckles. “But that’s okay.” He shrugs. “Nobody’s perfect. You’re intelligent, funny and breath-taking. You get to be blunt.”

“What about you?” I challenge.

“What about me?”

“What are your flaws?”

“Why don’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know you.” I shrug.

“You don’t need to know me to tell me what you think of me.”

I think you’re out of this planet. Way too much for me. Smart, interesting, handsome as fuck, attractive, sexy, funny, bold… And smug and confusing.

“I think you’re a liar.”

He frowns. I have to fight back a smile. He wasn’t expecting that.

“Why?”

“Because everybody lies and someone who says they don’t just mean they’re already lying.”

“I could have easily lied to you when you asked me why I didn’t drink.” He points out. “And I didn’t.” He shrugs. “Yet I agree with you. Most people lie, but I don’t.”

I nod. I don’t know why I believe him. I know it’s impossible not to lie ever but I believe he says mostly the truth. I look down at my plate and to my surprise I’m sad to realize it’s empty. I look at his. It’s empty too.

I’m afraid this is the end of the night for he was very clear when he said it was just a dinner and those were the conditions and I have lectures tomorrow at 8 am anyway. I look at him questioningly as he stands up.

“We didn’t ask for the bill.”

“It’s already paid for.”

“What?” I frown. “No.”

He frowns.

“We’re splitting.”

He rolls his eyes.

“Why do you never let me pay?” I remember the drink he payed for me on the Chains on Friday.

“Because there’s no need. I can pay for my own food.”

Had I known he was going to pay, I wouldn’t have ordered such expensive wine and dish.

“I know but you’re a student and I work. It makes sense that I pay. Plus, I was the one who asked you out so I’m paying. Next time, you ask me and I’ll let you pay.”

Next time, huh? I let the smile take over my lips. I’ll admit that was good and I chuckle when he elbows his side with his hand on a fist in celebration that I allowed him to pay.

“And this is when my alcohol-free lifestyle comes in handy.” He says as he escorts me outside playing with his car keys on his hand. “I’m taking you home.”

He probably said that because I kept staring at him but I was just lost on the ink of his chest. It’s pouring rain when we get outside and he curses under his breath. I don’t know why I like it when he curses. It’s not like I’ve never had a sailor’s mouth before but there’s something about the way his voice sounds around the word fuck that’s got me biting my bottom lip.

“Okay, you wait here. I’ll go get the car and pick you up right here.”

“But where did you park?”

“It’s just down the street.” He shakes his head. “But it’s pouring rain. You’ll get soaked.”

“Nonsense.” I shake my head.

The street is just one way which means he’d have to drive around the entire block to come get me.

“We can run.”

He’s smiling carefree with his eyebrows raised as he stands up next to me. I feel his eyes carelessly roaming my body and stopping at my breasts on their way back up my face.

“Can you imagine how you’d look with that shirt wet? I wouldn’t be able to get it out of my head.”

I’m wearing a white silk blouse tied around my neck with puffed sleeves and a black mini skirt. He’s right. If this gets wet he’d get stuck to my skin and my nipples would take his eyes out. My mouth gets dry as I imagine what he would do to me then. I don’t know why it is so erotic to think about us two under the rain, the wet silk stuck to my skin until he unties the knot from my neck and massages my breasts before he brings them to his mouth and wraps his pink lips around my nipples and-

I must have given him the look because his eyes drop to my mouth and I’d swear his breathing has gotten worked up. My eyes drop to his Adam’s apple as he swallows. My lips part. I wonder if his kisses taste like grapes and cheese. Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me.

A group of people walk out of the restaurant in a drunken conversation. They’re pretty hobbled as they walk on zigzag. I wonder how much money they spent on wine in there. One of them stumbles and almost falls on top of me so I step backwards and my back collides with Harry’s chest. I try to gain my balance back so I can move away when his hands snake around my waist and pull my body closer until I’m pressed against him. I feel his arousal against my buttocks. My mouth goes dry when I notice he’s hard.

“Do you want me to take you home now, Indie?” I feel his hot breath against my ear.

“We… We said” I pressed my hips against his so as to make sure his hard on is real and he grunts “we said just dinner.”

“But we didn’t have dessert.” He whispers. “And I can think of something I’d like to eat.”

His hand slowly travels from my waist to the lowest part of my belly and I rest my head against his shoulder, resting my weight on him. He hums on my ear.

“You smell so good, Indie.” His voice is lulling me into a frenzy.

I feel my body heating up and all I want is to tangle my fingers on his hair and turn my face so I can kiss him.

“You always smell so good.”

I press my bum harder against his front. We’re already alone, standing on one of the walls on the stairs in front of the restaurant, but I don’t even trust my legs for walking right now. I can feel myself embarrassingly wet. He grunts when I move my hips again.

“Indie.” I’m gonna think about the way he whispers my name for weeks.

“Take me to bed already Harry.”

I don’t have to say it again. I feel his jacket on my shoulders and I look down at my arms as his hands slide down the fabric until they reach my hands. He connects his hand with mine and removes his body from mine before he starts walking urgently towards his car. After a couple minutes walking I spot his black SUV. He opens the door for me and just stands there under the rain until I’m settle before he closes the door.

His hair is wet and he’s almost trembling when he gets behind the wheel. I want to blow hot air on his hands to keep him warm but he doesn’t even look at me. All of a sudden, he seems to be deep in thought, but he looks so sexy. Being wet like that, with droplets falling from his brown locks to his forehead and his black shirt stuck to his skin and a thin layer of rain water covering the skin of his face… He looks even sexier than I have imagined before. I place my hand on his shoulder and feel him relax under my touch. His eyes are blown away when he looks at me.

“Tell me you don’t want this.”

I frown at his request. Before I can take control of my own actions my eyes drop to his crotch. He’s still hard between his legs so I don’t know where this is coming from.

“No.”

“No what?”

“No, I won’t say that.”

He grins and his eyes drop to my mouth once before he fastens his seatbelt, tells me to do the same and starts the car.

“You never do what you’re told, do you?”

I don’t answer that question. I try not to. Javier was so controlling. He used to tell me everything I had to do, what started as a domination-submission relationship in bed ended up being a dominating relationship outside the bedroom too. I remember he used to tell me what to do and then punish me with orgasm denial if I didn’t do what he had told me. Orgasm denial can be a turn on, Lord knows I know that, but trust me, it isn’t when the orgasm never happens. I shiver as I remember those times he left me crying on the bed after he had cum himself. Javier was such a bastard.

We reach his apartment in about fifteen minutes and all dark thoughts of Javier leave my mind the moment he grants me with an excited smile. I don’t know why he looks at me like that but somehow he’s making me feel as if I was the one in control here even though he’s the older one and probably the one with more experience. I’ve only had sex with two guys before. I wonder how many girls he’s fucked.

He walks before me as we make our way towards his apartment building. It’s a dark grey building, wide and manor. We walk through a grey stone path surrounded by two forecourts of green grass and everything is so cute I hear both our shoes clicking against the floor. He opens the glass door of the vestibule and greets the doorman as the man presses the lift button for us. Harry places his hand on the low of my back and gently guides me inside the lift and that’s the first time he touches me since he pressed my body against his at the door of the restaurant. He presses the sixth button and stands silently next to me.

Part of me wants him to press the stop button and push me against the wall and kiss and suck my neck as his hand pushes against my sex and plays with me but instead of reaching out to him I stand still, with both hands on either side of my body. This lift ride feels like the longest I’ve ever taken until finally his hand reaches out for me. His fingers caress mine until he has my hand in his and he gently tugs until I collide against his chest.

“Come closer.”

I feel his breath against my skin as I look into his eyes. He’s staring at me as if he’s never seen a woman before and there’s something about the way he looks at me that has me feeling different. He looks at me as one looks at a painting in a museum and I see his eyes tracing my skin, looking at my chin and my temple and my nose. Why isn’t he kissing me yet?

He still holds my hand when the lift door opens and he guides me towards the second door to our right. The door is dark grey again against pearl grey colour walls. He turns on the light and lets me walk along the grey hall that seems to end on a white cleaned kitchen. Right in front of the door, at the end of the hall and the apartment itself I can see a wall length glass window with the curtain up. I stop when the wall on my right ends.

At my right, I can guess the living room behind the kitchen bar. It’s dark and he hasn’t turn on the lights but I can see a couch before big wall length windows that spread both sides from a white column on the far corner of the area where a long rectangular dining table sits. I turn around searching for him and find him staring at me, very quiet and very still. He’s still wet and only then I realize so am I.

“Do I look like an otter?”

He laughs out loud at my question.

“Is that why you haven’t kissed me yet?”

“You look extraordinary.”

We speak at the same time but I only hear him. His amused smile, remnant from his laughter, turns into a devilish smirk as he places both hands on my hips and finally pushes me against the wall. I press my shoulder blades against it and focus on controlling my breathing as his hand snakes under my skirt and he gets the fabric up caressing my left thigh.

“As always.”

Our breaths mix together against my lips. His hand is cold against my skin and my body reacts to his touch with a shiver. I place both hands on his chest, my fingertips resting on his shoulders, as he tacks a strand of hair behind my ear with his other hand. His eyes drop down to my chest and he smiles. I know he noticed how worked up he’s gotten my breathing and I get frustrated with how calm he seems to be as he leans down. His lips brush against mine as he speaks.

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

I nod even if he didn’t ask for permission and then I feel his lips pressed against mine. The hand on my thigh moves to hold my left hip as his smooth and tender lips bring mine to life and he holds my face with his other hand. I feel his fingers on the side of my neck as his thumb rests against my right cheekbone. I have to suck in a moan, he’s such a good kisser… But I finally let it out when he divides my lips with his tongue. I feel him smile against my lips.

“I’ve been thinking about this all fucking month.”

His forehead rests against mine and I don’t want him to stop kissing me but his confession makes my stomach do somersaults. This time I’m the one pressing my lips timidly against his but when he reciprocates slowly but passionately, I let my fingers wander against his jaw until my right hand caresses his scalp and I tangle my fingers on his hair as I’ve been wanting to do since I met him. My hips have a mind on their own as they press against his and I do it again when I feel his hot, hard excitement against my belly. It’s flattering to feel his desire. He moans on my mouth as I keep pressing my hips up against his. I almost perch up to him but he lets me do what I want with his body.

I feel his right thumb caressing the skin over my hip bone and my breathing catches in my throat when his fingers trace their way against my thigh towards my sex. I rock my hips against his hand, silently signalling him to go on and finally his fingertips caress my throbbing sex against the thin fabric of my pink transparent underwear and I can’t hold back the moan that escapes my throat.

“I see you’ve thought about it too.”

He smiles devilishly against my lips and my fingers move back to his shoulders so I can hold myself up when my knees go weak. His fingers keep caressing my lower lips barely adding any pressure and I gasp against his lips as he grins. He then goes on with his delicious torture as his lips press against my cheek and then the spot just below my ear before he licks and bites my neck. His knuckles caress my groin and I don’t know why he hasn’t gotten his fingers inside me yet. I can’t wait anymore.

“I’m waiting…” He explains as if he could read my mind.

“What for?” My voice betrays me in a moany tone and I feel him grin against my neck.

“For you to admit you’ve thought about it too.”

His other hand moves from my back to my front, setting my skin on fire on the way to my breast before he cups it against my blouse. I feel my eyes rolling to the back of my head as I rest it against the wall.

“So have you, Indie?”

His raspy voice is driving me crazy as his fingers carefully pull from the elastic of my panties.

“They’re stuck to you.” He whispers. “Are you that wet?”

“Find out.” I manage to utter.

My breath catches in my throat when he presses his hips further against my body, pinning me against the wall as he grins at me. I want to run my tongue all along his pink lips, now red from kissing.

“Tell me.” He licks my mouth.

“Of course I’ve thought about it.”

His fingers slide under the fabric of my underwear as if I found the right password and he collects my moisture with two fingers and spread it against my swollen clit. I bite my bottom lip and feel my face contorting from pleasure. My nails pin against his shoulders.

“You’re fucking soaked.” He grunts. “Is this all for me?”

“Yes.” I pant.

“You pushed me away.” He circles my clit slowly. “You rejected me when I asked you out but now look…” I moan when he curls two fingers at a time inside my cunt. “A proper mess with my fingers in your pussy.” He bites my chin. “You like it?”

“Yes.”

I shut my eyes as he kisses and sucks my neck while his fingers move in and out of me. His thumb presses circles against my clit and I’m very aware of all the clothes we still have on. I am pathetically lost in my own pleasure but I want to feel his hot skin against mine so I let my hands wander down his chest until I reach the buttons and start undoing them. I caress his bare chest and stomach before I grab his neck with one hand and push his mouth to mine to devour his lips. He grunts against my lips and his fingers fasten on my hole.

“Harry.”

He growls and bites on my bottom lip.

“Harry.” I repeat and he hums questioningly. “Please.”

“Please what, Indie?”

“Please” I don’t know what I’m going to say. I just know I want “More.” I pant. “I want more.”

I love the way he looks at me with eyes blown away. I press my lips against his hungrily and I roll my tongue with his. I want him desperately and he lets me have his mouth the way I want. I don’t know why he isn’t doing anything. Any other guy would have pinned me against the world and drilled deeper into my pussy already but he seems to be blocked. Right when I’m about to say something, his fingers start moving faster and I have to hold onto him for dear life. He must notice my loss of balance because he slides his thigh between my legs and pins me against the wall, holding me in place and fucking me with his fingers until I feel my walls clenching.

“Are you going to cum like this?” He asks.

“If you keep doing that yes.”

He chuckles and his movements down there stop. My eyes open widely but I can’t barely see. My pupils must be blown away. He removes his fingers from my cunt and presses his thigh hard against my entrance as he brings his hand to his mouth. I can see my shinny juice on his fingers as he sticks them inside his mouth and hums as he sucks them clean. He takes them out of his mouth and swallows.

“Fuck, you taste amazing.”

I feel my walls clenching. Is it possible to have an orgasm with words? I’ve never been told that. I don’t know where to look. I miss his thigh against my legs for a second before he presses his hardness on the spot he just left. He’s rock hard so my ego is restored. He wants me too. He stares at me as he presses his hard on against my sex again, taking pleasure in the effect his actions have on me.

“I want to have my mouth on you but I’m gonna explode.” He confesses.

“Fuck me, Harry.”

With un unsuitable calm from his previous actions, he presses his lips slowly against mine as his hands find a home on the lowest part of my back and he starts walking, guiding me backwards towards what I assume it’s his bedroom. His hand grabs my ass and I feel him smile against my mouth.

I snake my hands under the fabric of his shirt and caress his toned arms before we let it fall to the ground and then his hands find the button of my skirt and he undoes it, slowly unzipping it too before it falls to the ground around my feet. He grabs my hands and places them on the waistband of his pants and I follow his silent instructions as I unbutton and unzip his jeans. His fingers find the silk bow on the back of my neck and undo it as I jerk his pants down his legs. His hands caress the hem of my underwear and the lower part of my belly before he grabs the hem of my blouse and I lift my arms above my head for him to take my blouse off. He lets it fall next to our feet, leaving me on just my pink set of underwear, completely exposed to him. His hungry eyes roam my body up and down and before he touches me again, he runs his fingers through his head and puffs.

“Damn.”

Large hands hug my bare waist as he pushes me gently onto his bed. My body, hot and naked, falls on top of a fluffy soft cold quilt but before I can get cold myself Harry leans his body over mine and my legs instantly spread apart making room for him. I feel his hands rougher than mine caressing my skin and leaving goosebumps everywhere he touches. His right hand holds part of his weight over me as his left one searches for my right knee, wrapping my leg around his waist as he caresses my thigh, squeezing my bum when he reaches it.

I’m amazed at how fast and naturally the mood has changed between us. I don’t know which Harry I like more, if the rough and passionate one that just touched me a moment ago or the slow and torturous lover that seems to be taking his time with me now. My mouth misses his as he leaves kisses against the skin of the side of my neck and my sternum. His knees press under my thighs as he holds his weight while he runs his tongue along the soft skin just above my bra. My fingers comb his hair whilst his pull my bra down, freeing my breast before his lips wrap around my nipple. He licks and sucks on it before he opens his mouth and nibbles on my flesh right before giving the exact same attention to my other breast.

My brain has finally stopped and everything I can think about is Harry and the way he smells and the way he moves and his hands on me. For the first time in I don’t know how long, my only worry is whether to keep my eyes opened so I can see him and record very second of this on my mind or whether to let them shut and go by what I’m feeling. He signals his way kissing my skin up from my chest to my mouth and I caress his front until I reach his underwear. I feel his arousal, wet and hot and heavy, through the thin cotton and he hiss.

“Don’t” He seems to have as much trouble speaking as I’m afraid I’d have if I tried to say something right now “don’t touch me much or I’ll finish before starting.”

I smile at his sincere confession and cup his face instead, bringing his mouth to mine as I kiss him passionately. I am over the moon with the way he seems to be worshipping my body. If I could think straight, I’d question the entire thing for how is it possible that someone like him seems to be so out of it because of my body? I’m nothing compared to his perfection.

“I’m so hard for you.”

He presses his arousal against my dripping entrance once so I can feel it and I feel my pupils dilate. I can barely make out shadows as he sucks a spot underneath my jawline.

“Can I have you now?”

I hope my eyes can transmit him everything I can’t say. I let my tongue dive inside his mouth and tug at the hem of his boxers hoping that’s enough for him to know I want him now. He lifts his hips helping me get his boxers down and his hard on springs free against his stomach. I reluctantly remove my mouth from his so my curious eyes can take him in. He’s shinny and tight and huge. My breath catches in my throat.

He doesn’t know I’m more inexperienced than I lead on. Javier was rough and we had lots of sex, it was basically all we did, but he was always on charge and I basically just had to let him do what he pleased and he was way smaller than Harry is. He must sense my doubts because his fingers grab my chin and makes me look into his eyes.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

I frown and instead of arguing, I bring my hands between us and take off my underwear, exposing myself to him. He presses a flood of kisses against my cheek and whispers on my ear.

“We’ll go slowly.” He assures me. “And, Indie, if you want to stop, just say it, okay?”

He cups my cheek and stares into my eyes, making sure I agree, he must be aware of his size and then he pecks my lips a few times before he removes his body from mine. I panic.

“Where are you going?”

My hands snake around his body desperately and he chuckles as he looks back at me. He’s leaning over me towards the drawer of his nightstand and when he comes back between laughter he presses soft kisses against my cheeks and the tip of my nose holding a small foil package between his fingers.

“Clinging onto me like a koala bear, eh?” He kisses me. “Not going anywhere, love.” His pet name ignites fireworks on my stomach and chest. “Just grabbing a condom.”

I nod and kiss him deeply feeling him smile against my mouth.

“Indie, it’s not that I mind but… You’re not a virgin, are you?”

I feel my cheeks heating up. I’m afraid my body would inevitably go into shutdown because of the change in the blood flow. I can’t even look him in the eyes, I’m so embarrassed.

“No.” I frown.

He presses a single kiss between my eyebrows and I feel a fingertip trailing a line on my skin from my jawline to my sternum.

“But it’s been a while.” I confess.

“We’ll go slow.”

Kissing me, he leaves the condom on my hand and asks me to put it on him. I hold the package close to my face between us and rip it open, getting the condom out and bringing my trembling fingers to his hard dick. I appreciate the opportunity he gave me to stare at him and I take in his red tip, dripping precum and my mouth waters. Before I roll the condom down I let my fingertips caress his soft skin and feel him hiss and fight for breath above me. My curious fingers explore the wet shinny pink end and he grunts.

“It’s beautiful.”

He chuckles nervously and I roll the condom down his stiff flesh. Once he’s covered, he shifts his hips down until I feel his tip dancing over my entrance and I spread my legs farther for him. When I think he’s finally going to thrust inside me, I feel his hand snaking underneath my back and unclasping my bra. His fingers carefully grab the straps and he removes it from me. His chest moves up and down, asthmatic, as he stares at my bare breasts.

“You’re gorgeous.”

I read his lips more than I heard him because his voice came out almost silent but other than focused, he seems conflicted. I caress his cheek and he leans his head on my palm.

“What are you thinking?”

“It’s very hard to think with you naked under me.” I chuckle at his confession. “But… I also feel like… You’re this delicate thing and I could… I don’t know, break you.”

His words take me off guard but they seem to have a direct line with my heart that reacts to him even before my brain catches on.

“Well” I move my hips against his making him hiss at the contact of our sexs “I mean you’re big but I think I can take it.”

He laughs. Once again I’m surprised at how our moods change in seconds because then he grins devilishly at me.

“I’m sure you can.”

A soft chuckle escapes his throat as he leans above me and brings his soft mouth to mine. He starts by pressing his lips against mine in open mouthed kisses that drive me crazy and then his teeth tug on my bottom lip before he lets go and his tongue dives inside my mouth. His kisses are delicious. His hand glides down my arm until he intertwines our fingers and places my hand on the back of his neck.

I feel his hot hard on against my lower lips and the anticipation of being connected with him is driving me crazy. Harry’s lips crash against mine harsh before his forgiving tongue soothes me. There seems to be a disconnection between his hard mouth and his soft caresses that makes me wonder whether his thrusts are going to behave like his lips or like his hands. My legs wrap around his waist and my heels pull him closer to me but he smiles against my mouth and eludes my entrance. He’s enjoying this sweet torture.

He pulls back so that his green eyes long into mine and he chuckles at the look I must be giving him. I hold his stare. I don’t want to miss a single thing when he stretches me open. His length is stroking my swollen dripping lips when he starts rocking his hips over me. My sex throbs and he grins triumphally as I watch him jerk back and forth each time sending a high frequency energy current to my belly.

“Harry” I whine completely out of my mind.

He slips his hand between our bodies and I feel it between my thighs but he keeps moving on top of me with that wide grin on his face.

“Harry, for the love of God, I can’t take it any-

My words are cut short when I feel his tip stretching my entrance. And even though it goes in easily due to the embarrassing amount of moisture I’ve collected, my walls instantly clench on their own accord and he stops.

“Fuck.” He clenches his teeth. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” I nod my head feverishly. “Don’t stop, Harry.”

He readjusts his forearm on the mattress next to my head and holds my hip with his fingers as he slowly glides out and thrusts inside me again. I carefully watch his expression. His eyebrows are furrowed and his lips are parted but when he thrusts inside me a third time, he bites them.

I feel him stretch me beyond believe and I’m afraid I might exhaust myself before starting but to my surprise it doesn’t hurt at all. Instead I feel like I’m out of my own body, like there’s some force inside my chest that’s trying to get out of me and it searches for an exit all along my body, all the way from my chest to my fingers and to my toes and then it goes up my throat and tries to get out with a moan.

“Fucking hell, Indie.” He grunts.

He’s moving in and out of me deliciously slowly and I don’t even know where his hands are or where mine are. Everything has turned into a soft, wet mess and all I can hear is his panting and his grunts and my own moans and whimpers. I only manage to keep my eyes opened for seconds but when I do I see him staring at me, green wide eyes blown away. I want to touch him, I want to bite him and run my tongue against the blood red skin but I can’t do anything but gape and try not to choke on my own breathing.

“You like it slow, Indie?”

He speaks on my open mouth as our breaths mix and I can do nothing but stare into his eyes. He curses under his breath as his hand cups my face and he never stops his movements. His never leave mine.

“You can’t speak, can you?” He chuckles. “Can I go faster?”

I hold his face and eat his mouth as if I was trying to suck some of his energy. Bravely I press the low part of my back against the mattress, lifting my hips and finding a new angle for him to go deeper and hit that spot I’m craving.

“Go faster.” I finally manage to whisper on his mouth.

He grunts as he begins to thrust faster and I moan too because he seems to move faster each time until the bed is shaking and we’re both panting. I thank God he lives alone because I can’t control the volume of my breathing and I think I couldn’t keep quiet if I wanted to.

“Indie” He sighs “I’m so close.”

I feel the tension building up on my stomach as his words.

“Don’t stop. Go harder.” I beg.

“What?”

“Harder, Harry.”

I shove my hips against his hoping he understands what I want and he does because for the next thrusts he’s drilling me against the mattress and we both sink against the quilt every time he shoves against me. He’s grunting and panting on top of me and my hips search for him before I pull back helping him with our frenetic rhythm.

There it is. A moment of whiteness. I lose conscience for a few seconds and I don’t see and I don’t hear anything right as my whole body concentrates on one single point and I myself am one single point, very small and very hot, and then I feel myself realising and letting go on top of him.

“Fuck.”

Harry drops his head on my shoulder and I feel his length twitching and throbbing inside me while he empties himself on the condom. I hear his worked up breath on my ear as we both focus on calming down to come down from our highs. I love the feeling of still having him inside of me as he softens.

“Fuhhh” He lets out through his teeth on my ear “You were so tight.”

I chuckle as he rolls off me and presses a kiss on my bare shoulder before he lies down next to me. I turn my neck to the nightside table on my side of the bed and entertain my eyes with the picture he has but I feel my eyelids heavy and I finally let them shut. I hear Harry asking me whether I’m asleep and I let out a grunt but I’m too tired to give him conversation now so he chuckles. I then feel him lifting my body so he can open the bed and cover my naked body with the duvet.

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imanativeofswlondondahling · 4 years

Text

Becoming A Stark? (27)- Peter Parker x Stark!femReader

Word Count: 4797

Warnings: Swearing probably

Author’s Note: One more chapter after this. It will be going up this Friday. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list which will turn into the sequel tag list after Friday.

Chapter One || Previous Chapter || Master List

“Wakey, wakey birthday girl.” Your dad’s voice comes from your doorway.

“If you really love me you’ll let me sleep.” You mumble, pulling your blankets towards your chin.

“Loving you has nothing to do with it. You have to get ready for school. But I wanted to be the first to say happy birthday.” You feel the edge of your bed sink in as your dad sits down. You look over, blinking as the bright light hits you a bit too hard. “How does it feel to be fifteen?”

“The same as it felt to be fourteen?” you shrug. “How did you know it’s my birthday?”

“I’ve seen your birth certificate. I’m not going to forget my kid’s birthday.” Tony reaches forward to push the hair away from your face. “You’ve got a busy day ahead of you. So if it were me, I’d get up and get ready.”

“If it’s my birthday shouldn’t I be allowed to do what I want? Like stay in bed all day?”

“Pepper will never allow that. Get up kiddo. You’ve got school to get to.”

“So you’re saying Mom is the one who’s actually in charge?”

“Most definitely.” Tony says before kissing your forehead. “Now get ready so you can have your birthday breakfast before school.”

“Does it involve green juice?”

“Would it be breakfast without green juice?” You roll your eyes, but push your covers back and climb out of bed. Reaching into your dresser, you pull out a pair of black ripped jeans before going digging in your closet for a shirt for today. Sassy shirt or band tee? Which seems right? But then your eyes fall on the blue tie dyed Pink Floyd tour t-shirt. That’s what you want to wear today. It’s slightly cropped, but not enough for it to be a dress code issue. You pull on the shirt and the jeans and then reach for a pair of red high tops. You love how comfy casual this is. The last thing it needs is your favorite jean jacket and you’ll be set. At least clothing wise anyway. You’ll add a couple small pieces of jewelry, your heart pendant and some earrings, and maybe throw your hair into a ponytail just so it doesn’t annoy you throughout the day. After a couple swipes of mascara and a little lip gloss, you feel ready to head downstairs. When you walk into the kitchen, your mom and dad are both waiting for you. A stack of pancakes are waiting for you with a couple candles stuck in them. You look at them puzzled. “Pepper said I couldn’t give you cake for breakfast so I figured this was the closest we could get.”

“Cake would just spike you and then you’d get hungry way before lunch.” Pepper rolls her eyes.

“I love it.” Nana and Pops had always made your birthday special, but this is a completely different kind of special. Your dad takes a lighter and lights the candles.

“Make a wish.” He pulls his phone out and snaps a picture as you blow out the candles. Tony can’t help but smile at you. “So anything you want to do for your birthday?”

“You don’t have today already planned?”

“I have some rough ideas, but I thought I’d get some input from the birthday girl herself.”

“I want to hang out with Peter after school.”

“Sure, invite him over.”

“I mean outside of the apartment.”

“Take Happy with you.”

“Dad-”

“Nope. Dead set on this one.”

“Fine.” You text Peter to see if he’s up for doing something after school. You’d be surprised if he says something other than sure.

“You have to be home by six.” Pepper adds. “Birthday dinner. But Peter can come too.”

“Where are we going for it?”

“Where would you like to go?” Pepper asks.

“Can we go to that Italian place we went a few weeks back?”

“Sounds like a plan to me.” Tony says.

“So what did you want to do?” Peter asks as he finds you after your German class.

“I don’t care. I just wanted to be free from the apartment for a few hours.” You admit.

“Well it’s your birthday, so anything you want to do is on the cards.”

“I could go for coffee?” You suggest.

“Coffee it is for my girl.” Peter takes your hand and walks you to the side of the school but you shake your head. “What? This is the quicker way.”

“I promised my dad we would go with Happy. He’ll be waiting in front of the school.”

“I’m pretty sure he doesn’t like me.” Peter’s nose scrunches as he says this but follows you towards the front of the school.

“That’s just Happy’s personality.”

“He likes you.”

“That’s ‘cause Tony’s my dad. I’m a Stark- he like has to like me or he doesn’t get paid.” You joke. “Did you tell May that my mom and dad said you’re invited to dinner?” Peter nods his head.

“Already texted her about it. She said to wish you a happy birthday.”

“Aw, May’s the best.”

“She is pretty great, as long as you don’t eat her cooking.” Peter says with a smile.

“The vegetarian food she made for me was pretty decent.”

“That’s because most of it was premade.” Peter smirks at you.

“That stuff is pretty hard to mess up.” You admit. You walk outside to the sound of your name being called and feel Peter drop your hand. You both walk over to where Happy is standing.

“How was school kid?” Happy asks you.

“Not bad.” You say as he opens the door for you and Peter to climb into the back seat.

“Where are we heading?” Happy asks as he sits down in the front seat.

“Coffee.” You say, knowing Happy knows where your favorite shop is.

“Anything for the birthday girl.” Happy turns a blinker on and pulls away from the curb. You click open your phone and see that your dad tagged you in a picture from this morning at the breakfast table.

“My dad can’t seem to keep anything private. The whole world knows it’s my birthday now.” You say to Peter.

“It’s just ‘cause he loves you kid.” Happy’s voice flows from the front seat. You roll your eyes, but you know he’s right. Now your notifications are filled with thousands of birthday messages on your dad’s photo. But you also see a few pictures you’ve been tagged in, so you click on your profile to have easier access to them. Some are from people you don’t know, edits of pictures you’ve posted or the paps have, but a few are from Betty, MJ, Ned, and then you see that Peter tagged you in a picture. You click over to peter_p’s profile and see the collage of photos from the few months you two have been dating and some from your snapchat streak before that, but it’s the comment that he posted that gets you.

Happy birthday to the best girlfriend I could have ever asked for @y/nstark. I’m my happiest when I’m with you and I’ve never laughed as hard as I do when you make me laugh. Here’s to fifteen years treating you the best it should. Hopefully fifteen is when I finally get you to watch Star Wars too. You have my <3 babe. Here’s the first of many birthdays together.

You look over at Peter, who is oblivious to the fact that you just read his birthday message. Feeling your eyes on him, he looks up at you. “What’s up?”

“You have my heart too.” Peter takes your hand in his and places kisses on your knuckles. It’s the closest either of you have gotten to saying ‘I love you’ in the almost six months of dating. It feels important.

“I think mine was yours before we even started dating. But I wouldn’t tell your dad that or I might not live to your next birthday.” Peter admits.

“I’m pretty good at keeping secrets.”

“So Peter, how’s your year going at MSST?” Pepper asks after orders have been placed.

“Good. I think anyway. I’m waiting for a couple of midterm grades to come back, but besides that my grades are where I want them to be and I’m taking my SAT and ACT for the third time next weekend.”

“Wanting to score well enough for MIT?” Tony asks.

“He’s trying to aim for scholarship levels. He’s already scored high enough to get in.” You say, unable to not brag about your boyfriend. Peter’s ears go pink at your words.

“Good to hear. If I’m going to talk to them about admitting you next year, then-”

“You’re a year off Dad.”

“I think we could get Peter into college a year early. I went early. I think Peter could do it too. He’s smart enough.”

“I won’t have the necessary classes.” Peter says.

“So we talk to MSST and you could take some extra classes to graduate early.” Tony points out.

“You’re just trying to get him a few states away from me.” You point out before taking a sip from your water glass.

“I think May isn’t ready for me to head off to college for a couple years. Financially.” Peter says with a slight cough.

“Well there’s always the September Grant.”

“Yeah that’s what you told her about when you came over the first time. I don’t think she’ll go for that lie again.” Peter says, reaching for his own water glass.

“The September Grant is a real grant.” Pepper says. “And it is through MIT. Now if somebody,” she looks at your dad, “utilized the name to cover for something else, he’ll have to explain that. But it’s a very real grant.” She lifts her wine glass but before taking a sip she adds, “And whenever you’re ready to head to college, it’s open to you.”

“Wow, um thank you?” Peter says, his cheeks going red. “I think today is supposed to be about Y/N though.” You smile at your boyfriend.

“Right, our birthday girl. How has your birthday been so far?” Your dad asks, taking a sip from his whiskey glass.

“Good. I got a 100 on my English essay. And I passed my Chemistry and Biology midterms. So I won’t have to retake either of those classes next year hopefully.”

“Never doubted you would pass.” Your mom says with a smile. Personally, you don’t love the fact that you have to take two science classes a year at MSST, but you’re doing it.

“A 100 on your essay? That deserves a toast I think.” Tony raises his glass. You roll your eyes but raise your glass too. “To our English scholar and birthday girl.” After clinking glasses, your appetizers were brought out. Bruschetta for you and Pepper, a salad for your dad, and fried cheese bites for Peter. As you all munch on your food, the conversation flows between projects your dad and Peter are working on, SI things, and more school talk from you and Peter. This continues through entrees as well. Your dad offers to order dessert, but Pepper reminds him that there’s cake at home.

Little did you know, there are also a multitude of people waiting for you at home. Uncle Rhodey must have let everyone in, but when you walk into your house there’s a group of people shouting “Happy Birthday!”. You look around the room, seeing your friends- Astrid, Betty, MJ, and Ned- standing near Nana and Pops as well as Vision and, to your and Tony’s surprise, your Aunt Nat standing to the side of the room. Peter’s hand is wrapped around your waist, he knows you’re excited to see your aunt. However, his sixth sense tells him that some of the people in the room, Tony and even possibly Colonel Rhodes, don't seem to like that she’s here. Neither man seems ready to drag her out of the room, at least not in front of you, seeing how she’s part of the reasons that Captain America got away. But you don’t know that. No one except the people who weren't in Germany know that. So he’ll smile and play nice, to make you happy on your birthday.

While you’re over giving hugs to your Nana and Pops, Rhodey and Tony make their way to say something to Natasha. “You’re here just for this. As soon as gifts are opened and cake is cut, you disappear, or-”

“I know. I wasn’t going to disappoint Y/N and miss her birthday.” Natasha says, squaring off to Tony, reminding him that he might be an Avenger but she’s not one to be messed with either.

“You’re still wanted for what happened in Germany.”

“I know.” Before any of them can say anything else, the birthday girl’s arms are wrapped around her aunt’s waist.

“Aunt Nat, you’re here!” Rhodey and Tony step away to give Natasha a moment with you.

“I am. I wasn’t going to miss your birthday.”

“Is Dad and Uncle Rhodey going to send you away to some like prison or something after this?” You ask all worried, but your aunt shakes her head.

“I’m pardoned for one night. It’s a birthday gift I think.”

“I’ll take it.” You pull your aunt in for another hug. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too. But today’s about celebrating you. So…” She trails off, motioning towards your friends and family. Across the room, Betty, Astrid, and Ned all look awestruck at the sight of you talking with the Black Widow.

“Come meet my friends.” You say, pointing towards where your friends are waiting. The room fills with the sounds of you talking with the people you love and who love you. Tony queues FRIDAY to play some of your favorite music and everyone relaxes into celebrating you. You end up on the couch surrounded by your parents to open gifts, the rest of your family and friends sitting in various places in the living room. So far you’ve opened a lot of graphic tees and books. Peter got you a shirt that said ‘The Sass is Strong With This One’ in the Star Wars print as well as a sweatshirt that said ‘Friday is My Second Favorite F Word’ which got a laugh out of everyone, Natasha got you some books you had added to your Goodreads page recently, Betty got you two sweatshirts that read ‘Gangsta Napper’ and ‘I’d Rather Be Sleeping’. You’re now on the gifts from Nana and Pops.

“We thought it was time for you to finally have these.” You unwrap the first of the two boxes, a smaller one. Taking off the paper, you’re surprised to find a jewelry box waiting for you. Inside is a pair of pearl earrings. “These were your mom’s. When she went into rehab, she left them with us, because she wanted to make sure that you had something of hers, one day.” You try to swallow the lump in your throat as you take the paper off the other box, finding a matching necklace. You don’t know what to say. You don’t remember the woman who left these for you as she went off to required rehab after giving birth to a crack baby. When you hear Mom, your thoughts go to Pepper, not the woman who these belong to. But you let the cold, weighted stones drape over your hand as you hold the necklace. “She wanted you to have them one day.”

“Those are beautiful.” Pepper says softly from next to you, breaking the silence that you hadn’t known how to break.

“Right, yeah, thanks Nana. These are gorgeous.” Pepper can tell there’s something about the jewelry that is making you uncomfortable, but she’s not going to just ask you in front of everyone. She can wait until it’s just you, her, and Tony, or even just you and her later. But the Mama Bear in her wants to pull you into her arms and never let you go. You place the two offending boxes on the coffee table.

“My turn!” Astrid says holding a light blue gift bag out towards you. “I’ve been waiting weeks to give this to you.” You pull out the tissue paper and reach a hand in to pull out a pair of Mickey Ears that are sparkling black with a rainbow bow in the center. “It’s the pride ears you talked about!”

“I love them Astrid!” Your friends know how obsessed you are with collecting new Pride stuff to have on hand for Pride Events or just day to day life. “Maybe I’ll wear them to Pride this year.”

“There’s more in there.” You pull out a grey shirt that says ‘To Read or Not To Read, What A Stupid Question’ as well as a baseball tee that reads ‘God Said Adam and Eve so I Did Both’ in Blue, Pink, and Purple ink.

“Astrid, these are amazing.”

Ned gave you a Labyrinth board game, Vision had gotten you some anti-math graphic tees, and now Uncle Rhodey was going to give you gifts before your parents give you their gifts.

“For you Baby Stark.” Your Uncle Rhodey hands you a box and you roll your eyes at the nickname.

“I thought my dad was the one who is supposed to be the one with all the nicknames.”

“Hang around him too long and you start up on them too.” You take the paper off and open the white box to find more graphic tee shirts. The first one you get not even halfway through reading when your dad shouts out.

“Absolutely not.” You finish reading the white print on the black shirt ‘Look Like A Princess Fight Like An Avenger.’

“You don’t like it, Tones?” Your uncle teases.

“Yeah Dad? I thought this would be my motto from here on out.”

“Burn it.” Your dad says angrily and your mom laughs. You turn the shirt around so your confused guests can read it. Everyone laughs as you set it on the coffee table to see what else is in the box. Underneath, there is a black sweatshirt that reads ‘The Trash Get Picked Up Tomorrow. Get Ready.’ Lastly, there’s a tee that reads ‘I’m Allergic to Mondays’. All of the shirts you’ve gotten so far are very you.

“Thanks Uncle Rhodey.” You set the shirts with the growing pile of new ones you’ve received today.

“Our turn.” Your dad says, reaching beside the couch to pull out a few boxes.

“This is way too many.” Most people at the party had limited to one gift. But your dad seems to have forgotten that there is such a thing as limiting one’s self.

“It’s not every day your kid turns fifteen.” You raise an eyebrow, telling him that that excuse doesn’t work. “Plus these are from me and Pep.”

“Fine.” You roll your eyes. He hands you a bigger box first, one that if you had to guess is probably a pair of converse. You take the paper off the box and aren’t surprised to find the familiar black and brown box waiting under the paper. But the shoes you find inside the box, you’ve never seen before. “Galaxy hightops?” You look to your mom, knowing that she had to be the one to find these.

“Thought you might enjoy them.” She says with a smile. You throw your arms around her.

“These are so cool!”

“Wow I see that I’m just chopped liver.” Your dad teases. You wrap your arms around him too.

“Thanks Dad.” He places a kiss on your forehead.

“Open the next one. I think you’ll enjoy that one too.” This box is a slimmer, flatter box and you guess it’s probably some piece of clothing, seeing as it doesn’t weigh a ton. You slide a finger under the tape to open the box open up after taking the paper off and open it up to find another jean jacket looking at you. You’re confused, since you already have one you wear a lot, but you take it out of the box and flip it to the back to look at the jacket before saying anything. And that’s when you see it. The tongue sticking out of a mouth. It’s a Rolling Stones jean jacket. You look between your parents.

“This one was all your dad.” Pepper says softly and the smile grows on your face.

“Even though they’re only subpar?” You ask.

“They make you happy and that’s what matters.” This time, your arms are around your dad before you can stop yourself.

“I love you.”

“I love you too. Always and forever kiddo.” Tony holds you close for a moment, before saying a little louder. “I think you’ve still got a couple more things to open.” He slides another flat box into your lap, saving the most important gift for last.

“Ok, ok.” You say, tearing the paper from the box. You’re guessing this is another clothing item and if it follows the trend of everyone else's gifts, it’s probably a graphic tee. But upon opening the box, you realize your guess is wrong. Sitting in the box is one of the most beautiful dresses you’ve ever seen. It’s a black cotton dress with flowers printed on it. There’s a burgundy trim around the neckline of the dress as well as white iridescent buttons, and at the bottom of the dress is an almost tribal looking print covering the bottom of the dress.

“I saw this in a shop and knew you had to have it.” Pepper admits.

“It’s beautiful.” You breathe out softly. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Pepper says like it’s no big deal, and maybe it isn’t to her, but it is to you. It’s your mom buying things like this because she thought it was important that you have things like that. It matters to you. Tony grabs the last box and hands it to Pepper instead of you, which throws you off. There’s a moment of conversation that happens only between their eyes. But Pepper takes a breath and then holds the box out to you. You look at her, silently asking if you should open it. She smiles at you and you start to take the paper off the small box. As you take the paper off, Pepper explains. “This is something that has been passed down from mother to daughter in my family for generations and when my mom gave it to me, she told me to hold on to it until the day that I wanted to give it to my daughter.” You open another jewelry box to see a beautiful opal ring with two small diamonds on either side of the gem.

“Wow. You want me to have this?” You can’t help but ask, staring at the ring in your hands.

“Why wouldn’t I want my daughter to have it?” Pepper asks, wrapping an arm around you. You lean into her side. “It’s yours until the day you want to give it to your daughter.” She says, as if passing a family heirloom on to you was no big deal. You take the ring out of the black velvet and hold the gold band between two fingers for a moment before sliding it onto your middle finger, guessing that that finger is the one that it will fit the best on. “We can get it resized if we need to.”

“No, it’s perfect.” You say, looking at where it now sits. You might never take the opal ring off, because it looks perfect where it is. You look up from the ring to look at your mom, when out of the corner of your eye, you spot Nana and Pops. They had given you jewelry too and you hadn’t directly put it on. Are you insulting them? “Thanks Mom.” You say giving Pepper another hug.

Later that night you find yourself looking at the ring as you sit on your bed. Your birthday has been pretty perfect, but you can’t help but think about the situation with the jewelry and wonder if you should have handled it differently. Should you have put on your biological mother’s jewelry instead? Should you have put on both? The questions linger in your head as you stare at the ring that you love because it came from Pepper.

“So all in all how was the big birthday?” Pepper’s voice draws you from your thoughts.

You smile before answering, “Good. I don’t think I could have asked for a better birthday.”

“You know you don’t have to wear it if it makes you uncomfortable or anything.” Pepper says as she makes her way towards your bed to sit.

You don’t understand what she means. “Huh?”

“The ring. It’s yours. But you don’t have to wear it-”

“I don’t think I’ll ever take it off.” You cut her off before she has the chance to finish her thought. “I love it Mom.” You reassure her.

“If I had known your grandparents were bringing you jewelry too, I would have saved it for another day. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or try to, I don’t know, step over your mom’s place-” Once again you cut her off before she can finish her thought.

“You didn’t.” Pepper looks at you, trying to gauge where you are at with everything that happened tonight. “If anything, I don’t know how to feel about their gift. But I know how I feel about yours.”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean.” Pepper says. You let your hand fall so you’re not staring at the ring, but your fingers of your left hand reach to your right to twist it.

“You know how I told you she left for rehab right after I was born because I was born addicted?” Pepper nods, remembering the story you shared right after you moved in with her and Tony. “Well, that’s a story I heard from someone else. I don’t have any actual memories from her. And I have the quilt she made and now the jewelry, but…” you trail off for a moment, collecting your thoughts. “It’s hard… I don’t know if she actually left those pieces for me to have, or if Nana and Pops took them so she couldn’t sell them for drug money. Nana and Pops have told me the truth about why my biological mother isn’t here. But she was a drug addict. There was a lot of stuff that Nana would mention off hand to Pops about being gone that she missed in terms of jewelry and stuff because my biological mother sold it. So I feel like I only have these pieces because Nana hid them, not because my biological mother wanted me to have them. Getting them as gifts, it… it leaves a sour taste in my mouth. Because it’s something that Nana more wanted me to have than the mother that left me to go back to the drugs that could have killed me.” You take in a shaky inhale before continuing. “But you? You wanted me. You adopted me and you gave me stuff that was meant for your daughter.”

“You are my daughter Y/N.”

“There’s nothing saying that you and Dad won’t have a daughter one day.”

“We already do.” Pepper corrects you. “Can I sit?” She motions next to you. You nod. She sits next to you, wrapping her arm around you. You lean into the scent of lavender that calms you especially when coming from Pepper. “You’re my kid. Whether or not your dad and I have more kids one day, you will always be my first born. That’s why I wanted to give the ring to you. Because it felt the way it did when my mom gave the ring to me. It felt right. And one day, you’ll feel the same way when you give it to your kid. You’re my kid.”

“I feel…” You stop yourself, not sure if you should even voice it.

“You feel…?” Pepper asks, but doesn’t push.

You decide to start it a different way. “I worry that Nana and Pops might hate that I found you to be my mom.”

“If they do, we can sit down and talk with them. With everything else you have on your plate, you don’t need to be worried about anything else. Right now, you just need to focus on staying with the things that make you happy.” Pepper says, running her hand through your hair, hoping it will calm you. “You don’t need to spend your birthday night stressing.”

“I love you Mom.”

“I love you too sweetheart. Always have, always will.”

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lonelypond · 3 years

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A Coffeeshop Christmas Carol, Ch. 6

NicoMaki, HonoKotoUmi, Love Live, 2.4K, 6/?

Summary: We see what Professor Sonoda's day is like.

An Umi Day

A yawn. Soft hair tickling her nose. Honoka probably, Umi thought, smiling. Had the alarm gone off? No, something else had woken her. Umi opened her eyes. Kotori was staring, a lost look in her eyes that worried Umi. Perhaps New York was lonely and that was why Kotori was pushing them to spend the holiday there?

“Kotori?”

“Eeep?!?!?!” An adorable jump accompanied the squeal. Kotori wrapped her kimono closer, the cranes flying across the blue a soothing morning view.

“Is there something worrying you?”

Kotori shook her head, biting her lip. Umi considered kicking Honoka awake, but decided Honoka needed sleep and Kotori needed some individual attention. Their relationship was a garden Umi tended carefully.

“Let’s talk over coffee.”

“I wanted to visit that coffeeshop today.”

Umi grabbed her bathrobe, glancing back at a soundly sleeping Honoka. Bakery hours and Kotori time made for long days.

“Why don’t we let Honoka sleep in and come back and surprise her with our ratings of her pastries? She’s been perfecting her cheese danishes.”

“Ooohh.” A gleam in Kotori’s eye. Umi was pleased.

“Just give me five minutes.”

“What about your exercises?”

“I will do a warm up form while you pick your coat for today,” Umi pulled Kotori into a tight hug. “And we can walk briskly. I’m sure you will need to burn some calories in advance.” Umi teased lightly, relishing the feel of Kotori relaxing into her embrace. Perhaps it was time for an adjustment in the geographical distribution of their relationship.

###

Umi paused and lowered her violin. She had been demonstrating the different effects of bouncing a bow sautillé or spiccato on an Antonio Vivaldi piece but Nana Nakagawa was paying no attention, very unusual for the usually diligent sophomore.

“Nan, is something concerning you?”

Nana’s expression turned discomfited and she lowered her own bow and violin, gray eyes wide behind her glasses. “My apologies, Professor Sonoda. I am allowing other concerns to distract me.”

Umi gestured to a stool with her bow, sitting herself to encourage Nana to engage, “If you are preoccupied with something serious enough to disturb your focus, perhaps discussing it will help.”

Nana sat and said nothing and Umi was about to pick up her bow and begin again when words rushed out of her pupil, “I scheduled an audition after this, for a singing role, and I’ve never done anything like that before, well, never on a public stage, just in choirs and choruses and I don’t know what to do, or if I want to stay on the conducting track, but nothing feels like singing...at karaoke, even, just the way people NOTICE…” Gray eyes were gleaming and the bow was conducting an imaginary audience.

Ah, Umi could make a jump from those clues. “So you’re auditioning for A Christmas Carol and…”

Umi hoped her pupil's speeding words would continue.

“If I like it, really like it, what am I going to do, my parents already had to deal with me not being an engineer or a pre med, will they just think I’m a dilettante? I can’t tell them, Professor Sonoda, I just can't, but if I get a part, I’ll have to explain why I’m staying on campus.”

Time to interrupt the panic. Raising a hand to quiet Nana, Umi spoke,“First, audition. Do your tasks in their proper order. There may be nothing to tell your parents.”

Her audience doubted that statement but was willing to devote some thought to it, “So don’t plan my post audition life yet?”

Umi nodded, “Exactly. You are worrying about conversations that may not be required. You should save your energy and focus on communicating to Professor Yazawa your suitability for a role.”

Nana zoomed back to panic, pale face, shaky hands, never good for a violinist. Umi sighed. Time for a task they could succeed at. Confidence carried forward. Umi put her violin in its case, indicating her pupil should do the same.

“Let’s take a moment to analyze this piece. The composer has done some very clever things with the general arrangement.”

Nana leaned forward, switching her bow for a pencil, eyes intent on the pages before her, all worries lost in the challenge of music.

###

“UMI!” Honoka’s voice always gladdened Umi’s mood. The door of her office swung open with a vigor no one else could manage. “Thanks for letting me sleep in. Kotori’s got a bunch of business calls so I brought you lunch.” Honoka pulled Umi into a hug that neither of them wanted to break, Umi enjoying the comfort of a never too familiar warmth and strength. “How’s your day?”

Umi hugged tighter, surprising Honoka.

“What’s wrong, Umi?”

Umi broke the hug, but Honoka’s bright blue eyes maintained the warm connection.

“Other people’s worries.”

Honoka nodded, “Yeah, it’s that kind of a day, isn’t it.” Honoka closed the door and set two sandwiches on Umi’s desk, carefully spreading two cloth napkins first, “Nozomi was kinda grumpy and sad when I stopped in to see if she needed to reorder any pastries.”

“How was Kotori?” Had Honoka noticed anything? Or had Kotori hid her worries. Their coffeeshop conversation had yielded no insights, just Kotori describing the early sketches of her Summer theme.

“Kotori?” Honoka had a sandwich unwrapped, Umi’s lower filing cabinet drawer pulled out to prop her feet on, and a surprised look. “Is something wrong?”

Umi moved her chair next to Honoka, her own sandwich in hand, “I don’t think so.”

“That’s not convincing, Umi.”

Umi chuckled. Honoka always called out her hesitancies, “No, it’s not. Kotori, too, seems to be in a mood.”

“That kind of a day.”

“Seemingly.”

A sharp rap on the door pushed it open and Nico came halfway into the room. “Hi Honoka. Umi, fix your replacement. She doesn’t know anything.”

Honoka leaned her head on Umi’s shoulder, whispering, “Grumpus Contagious.”

Umi bit back a giggle. Her replacement? Oh, Nico must mean Maki. Nico vibrated impatiently in the center of the office. And Umi wanted to eat her lunch. Honoka had done something with pumpernickel and mustard from the tantalizing smell and Umi wondered what else had made its way into the combination.

“Are you going to fix Maki or not?”

“What did Maki do?”

“Walked in to my auditions and applauded the first two auditionees.”

“That is unusual.”

“Unusual?” Nico stomped. “It’s rude, it’s problematic, and it gives two freshmen inflated views of their audition.”

“Was it a bad audition.”

“No,” Nico fake punched in the direction of the door, “It was fine, but Nico needs an ensemble leader who is aware of theatrical etiquette.” Nico’s emphasis on the word etiquette snapped Umi out of her Honoka induced laissez-faire attitude. Especially with first year students, proper behavior modeling by teachers was essential.

“I am sorry I did not initially take this as seriously as it deserved, Nico.”

Nico nodded, pleased at the adjustment of Umi's tone.

“I will talk to Maki this afternoon and make sure that she is aware of how auditions and rehearsals are conducted.”

“Make sure you go over tech three times. Nico doesn’t need a rookie who thinks it only takes two hours.”

“I will ensure that Maki performs all of her required duties.”

“Good. Nico is flexible but…”

“There are students involved.”

“Exactly.” That problem solved, Nico smiled at Honoka, “Those look tasty.”

“They are.” Honoka had finished hers, “Nozomi’s going to try them out next week. Kasumi’s a mad scientist with spices and bread dough. It’s fun.”

“She may be busy soon.”

Honoka shrugged, “She’ll probably still come in. Kneading dough works out a lot of stress.”

Umi wanted her private lunch relaxation zone back, “Is there anything else, Nico?”

“Nope, Nico’s good. Sorry to interrupt…”

“Nah, it was good to see you, Nico.” Honoka waved, “Having another speakeasy this Friday. Be sure to come.”

“Nico’s looking forward to it.”

“I’ll let you know how my conversation with Maki goes.”

“Thanks, Umi. See you, Honoka.”

And finally, Umi could relish her lunch treat.

###

Honoka had overstayed her lunch hour and run off to meet a delivery truck. If Umi went to Maki’s studio, she would have no time to practice this afternoon. And today’s rehearsal with Nana had turned into a mostly conversational session, not the duet Umi had planned. No practice time always threw off everything, especially Umi's mood. “Grumpus Contagious” Umi thought as she moved her chair back to its usual spot.

Maybe a carefully worded text to Maki would be a good conversational starter.

U: Nico has expressed some concern that you are lacking an elementary awareness of theatrical etiquette.

Rather than stare at her phone and wait for a reply, Umi would begin her violin warm ups. Perhaps she should be added in more regular vocal practice as well. Kotori seemed very serious about the New York City Christmas Cabaret. Umi had seen glimpses of a dress sketches. It would be an elegant mood.

Phone.

M: I’m fine.

U: Not having any experience with production, you may not be aware of all the quirks involved in staging a show.

M: I’ll read a book.

U: It’s not that simple.

M: I get a schedule, right?

M: You know, I’ll just talk to Nico.

Umi believed that Nico would consider Umi derelict in her duties if after her attempt at educating Maki, the result was that Maki asked Nico 1,000 questions.

U: There will be stage managers. Talk to the production stage manager and have them explain to you how Nico usually works.

M: Production Stage Manager?

U: Nico’s assistant. It’s usually one of the older students. Their job is coping.

M: There must be a book. I’ll look.

U: Directing is difficult, takes time, and Nico does a very good job. Please do not unduly add to her burden.

M: Don’t worry. I got this.

U: I will hold you to that.

M: (^-^)ゝ

Umi nodded. Maki was now aware of the gravity of the situation.

###

This was one of Umi’s favorite classes. An advanced seminar that rotated topics and instructors. Managing An Orchestra was this quarter’s theme. Only half a dozen students: Nana, a sophomore, three juniors, two seniors.

They were discussing Japanese conductors, Hideo Sato and one of his most prominent students, Seiji Ozawa. Umi occasionally wore a white turtleneck under her tuxedo jacket to honor Owaza’s unique style. She had handed out an interview with Owaza from Joshua Jampol’s Living Opera book.

Nana had the floor, “I looked up Hideo Saito, Professor Sonoda, and read that he brought discipline to generally disorganized Japanese orchestras. Is this the first job of the conductor?”

Umi, perched on a stool, considered the question, leaving a space for another student to speak. But it seemed no one else had done supplemental research specifically into Ozawa’s influences. “I think the entire profession has evolved, both in Japan and internationally, and with the rigorous training most professional musicians receive, there is less need to educate them on basic courtesies like preparing for rehearsals.”

Ronna Emem raised a point from the article, “Ozawa quotes Saito and says that “For a conductor, the most important thing is if he can conduct an a cappella chorus. Because every note, every voice is important. Every word is important.” Do you agree, Professor?”

A direct question for Umi to field, “Ozawa says a little later that with the” best vocalists, the voice becomes the best instrument” and I certainly agree with that. For myself, with the violin, I have found much wisdom in Francesco Geminiani’s belief that the violinist’s job was to create “a tone that shall in a manner rival the most perfect human voice.”

“So if you believe all this,” Ronna leaned forward, “why do we spend most of our time conducting instrumental ensembles and not vocal ones?”

Umi blinked. Advanced seminars allowing opportunities for the teacher to learn from the students was why they were her favorite type of class.

“That is a very sound point, Ronna. And one which I believe requires a review of our current conducting curriculum. So what would each of you like to see added?”

###

Umi was still perched on the stool, mulling her students’ suggestions. Her next meeting with Director Minami would be a challenge. She would have to make time to prepare a thorough presentation.

“Did you talk to Maki?”

Her students had left the door open and Nico had bopped in, looking wearier than earlier.

“Are your auditions over? I trust they went well.”

Nico waved a hand, not to be distracted, “Maki?”

“We have agreed that she should not put any extra burdens on you.”

“And she said? You did talk, right?” Nico leaned in the doorway, arms crossed, suspicious.

Umi shook her head, “Text.”

Nico rolled her eyes, “Nico has to do everything.”

“I did suggest she talk to a stage manager.”

Nico’s eyes lit up, “That’s a great idea, Umi. Nico will assign one to babysit her.”

Umi thought that would be best because (^-^)ゝaside, there was no way that Maki was going to initiate a conversation with a student she didn’t know.

“Maybe don’t call it babysitting?” Umi offered hesitantly.

Another dismissive hand wave, “Nico handles more divas than you. Don’t help.”

Umi shrugged. As soon as Nico stopped talking, Umi could go home. So if the conversation continued, it would not be because Umi spoke.

Nico pushed off, “Thanks for the stage manager idea. Let Nico know before you head out for the holidays. Will you be in town for Thanksgiving?”

“I believe so.”

“Stop by for Friendsgiving carolling. The more the merrier. And the less isolated the students who aren’t welcome at home feel.”

Nico was much more involved in the lives of her students than Umi, but productions were a much more intense environment than classes. And Nico, having cared for young siblings from a young age, had mastered a quirky aunt vibe that made some of the most skittish students willing to be chivvied and teased by her. Umi wondered if that pushiness would also charm the reclusive Maki.

“Honoka and I will plan to be there; I’m not sure if Kotori is heading back to New York before then.”

“All are welcome. Spread the word.” Nico blew a kiss, “Thanks, Umi. See you Friday.”

Umi waved, no longer paying attention, thinking once again about how to approach expanding vocal opportunities on campus. Nico would surely relish adding a full scale musical to the performance repertoire.

A/N: Tired, obsessed with Romeo and Juliet (have you watched Romeo X Juliet, they give her a sword and a secret identity), and not going to rush this because I love backstage stories.

#NicoMaki #Love Live #Nishikino Maki #Yazawa Nico #nana nakagawa #setsuna yuki #HonoKotoUmi #kosaka honoka #sonoda umi #minami kotori #A Coffeeshop Christmas Carol #Christmas #Theatre #etc.

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eohl · 4 years

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What You Haven’t Heard

There are so many things I take for granted, but I shouldn’t.

The list is long: running water in my house (100 years ago that would have been less common), something to eat in the refrigerator (even though five times I day I am opening my fridge to announce to no one that milk, applesauce, cheese slices, and salsa is “nothing to eat”), that I am healthy (and, truth be told, the older I get the closer this is to edging off the list). A modern life affords many comforts, even when life is busy, anxious, or frustrated. A modern life has electricity. A modern life has communication. A modern life has music.

And music is the thing that I really take for granted.

When I was a kid, like most, I listened to what my parents listened to. My mother spent many long road trips discipling me in the school of Queen and the Proclaimers (and David Allan Coe, for some reason). For Christmas in 1997, I received my first boom box, and on Christmas Day in 1997 I listened to the Village People’s Macho Man EP in it. A small CD collection started to grow on my shelf that started mostly with what I was borrowing from my parents’ existing CD collection, but which--in 2002 when I started high school--grew exponentially with slightly more updated flavors.

One evening in 2002, I called in to a local radio station, which is a very old-fashioned sentence these days. The deejay on the line asked what I wanted to hear, and I requested the then-overplayed R&B hit “It Wasn’t Me,” by Shaggy (a song definitively about being caught cheating on a relationship and lying about it, which completely unfazed every other 13-year-old I knew at the time). There wasn’t, it seemed to me, any other way to hear a song I really wanted to hear unless I bought the full album or happened to catch it on the radio.

I soon learned I could borrow CD’s from the public library, and my computer’s hard drives quickly began to fill with ripped copies of borrowed albums. (Unless you are the FCC, in which case that is definitively not what happened.) Borrowing CDs from friends had the same result. The slow method of finding, ripping, and storing full albums was the long way to get around the expeditious method to really get to a song you wanted to hear: the pirated download.

I challenge you to find a teenager from 1999-2005 who did not once pirate a single song. Go on, I’ll wait.

Through the depths of the internet, I truly began my music education. It was a new era. Gone were the days of hearing only what my parents owned or only what radio deejays put on (and only when you tuned in). Gone were the days of seeking out the friend who owned a Linkin Park album to copy. Gone were the days of swapping mixed CDs (and their legendary predecessor: mixed tapes) to have individual copies of special songs. Those days were over. The sun now rose in the dawn of BitTorrent.

In 2007, I climbed into a car with friends to drive four hours across the state to visit another college. I brought with us what would be the last mixed CD I would ever burn.

In 2008, I tenderly accepted a burned copy of a Weepies album with “For Laura” written in sharpie on the front--the last burned album copy I would receive.

In 2009, I made a long playlist on my computer to celebrate my 21st birthday, but never actually transferred it off my computer, and instead allowed the melodic favorites to play out through my laptop in my apartment.

In 2010, while driving, I heard the radio deejay announce that, through the iHeartRadio network, you could text in song requests to the station directly, and I thought, “Who would request songs from a radio station? Don’t you know you can hear any song you want online?”

After I graduated college, but before I moved to New York, my nana came to visit us. I was living at home in a temporary few months, ambiently working a mindless temporary desk job, thoughtlessly daydreaming about men. My father was my nana’s youngest child, and she always bore this special affinity for my brother and me. Her cheerful warmth inspired my creativity as a kid, encouraged me to explore, and always had a hug ready. She was a wonder. I was so happy to have her visit.

One afternoon, she sat in my bedroom while I sat at my desk. She noticed my CD collection and asked, “Do you have any Frank Sinatra in there?”

Between the origins of Queen, the growth of Linkin Park, and the recent discovery of the Red Hot Chili Peppers, I was a little embarrassed to confess to her that I didn’t have a lot of jazz singers.

“’Ol Blue Eyes’ they called him,” nana explained. “But he was such a womanizer. So popular, but so selfish.”

I’d never heard Frank Sinatra described this way. “Really? Do you like Frank Sinatra’s music?” I asked.

“No,” she said simply, as if it was obvious.

“Whose music do you like?” I asked, surprised I had never thought to ask before.

“You know who I love?” she smiled mischievously. “Bobby Darin.”

“I’ve never heard of Bobby Darin,” I admitted.

“Oh he is wonderful!” she exclaimed. “He has one song, ‘Mack the Knife.’ It is a wonderful song.”

“You know, nana,” I said, turning toward my computer, “we could listen to that song right now.” I quickly started to type ‘Mack the Knife’ on my computer.

The look on my nana’s face cannot be explained. Her naturally cheerful and warm disposition held back the longing of her love for Bobby Darin, but even her controlled demeanor could not contain the curiosity and possible disappointment at the prospect. “But,” she said, “you don’t have any Bobby Darin records.”

‘Mack the Knife’ had returned some results. “Just you wait,” I said, and hit “play.”

A big band and a swing tap of the drum preceded the velvet voice of Bobby Darin in my computer speakers. I watched my nana close her eyes, smile coyly, and tap her toe. She was in her mid-eighties. Her thin, white hair piled on top of her head. She was filled with joy. Listening to Bobby Darin, she was no older than thirty. The song filled her and her smile made her young again.

For three minutes, nana had absorbed a piece of her past that had long been embedded in memory. She had listened attentively the entire time; there was no chatting over the music. The music wasn’t background. The music was the main event. It had held her full attention. After a grand brass ending, the song was over. She opened her eyes.

“I haven’t heard that song in forty years,” she said softly.

It had not occurred to me that a person could go so long without something they truly loved.

“Nana,” I said, “I’ve never heard that song before.”

When I heard it with her, it wasn’t passively on the radio; it wasn’t in the background at someone’s house party; it wasn’t track #6 in a mixed CD from someone, sandwiched between other songs that were also clamoring for meaning and significance; it was an experience of hearing and truly listening. For all my investment in music, I had taken it for granted, and had taken for granted that I could access it at any time. Until that moment, I had just heard music, but from that moment on I was really listening.

#eohl #essaysonhumanlife #music #bobby darin

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joonie-beanie · 5 years

Text

Connected

Summary: A bond that can’t be broken + Friends to Lovers

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Genre: A lot of fluff, a splash of smut, and a hint of angst

Word Count: 18,260

A/N: This fic was one that I started a long while ago. Because of school, and a lack of motivation to write, I picked it up and put it down a lot. Finally, it’s done.

I really enjoyed creating something that feels so pure in nature. I hope you guys enjoy it.

**In the event that you’re unable to load the fic on the mobile app, please try desktop! I learned from Act On It that the app has trouble loading long posts!**

You’ve always hated the country.

For the most part.

The stretching fields, the dirt roads—the smell of cow manure and the decrepit barns and abandoned houses. Your parents had always tried to convince you that getting away from the city—seeing vast land like this—was a good thing. Taking the back roads and exploring were things that children were supposed to enjoy. An adventure to find things yet seen—but to you, one corn field is the same as the next. The faded red barns and boarded up houses become an eyesore.

You really hate coming out of the city and into the country.

The only thing here that you like is your grandmother.

Oh, and the boy next door.

Your grandmother has always lived out in the country—a peaceful area to retire, with few neighbors and little disturbances. She likes it here, and you doubt that she’ll ever move. And sure—coming out to visit her isn’t all bad. She feeds you and plays games with you. Stocks up on movies for the two of you to watch, and makes spending the day with her fun.

You love your grandmother, and visiting her—but you start to love it more the day you meet Taehyung.

One day, your father parks in the driveway in front of your grandmother’s ranch-style home. He reminds you to grab your overnight bag as you climb out of the car—the ripe age of 8 and a half. You reach back in to grab it as your father closes the driver’s side door and moseys up the drive.

After swinging your bag over your shoulder, you reach up to slide your door shut, but pause once your hand touches the handle. On a whim, you glance back at the main road, eyes catching on a small figure across the street.

In the country, houses aren’t very close, but you can still make out the little boy standing in the lawn of the house parallel to you grandmothers. His dirt splotched overalls are cuffed around his ankles, red shirt sagging off his shoulder, and black hair messy on his head. He’s staring at you with amazement written on his face, and before you know it a blush has risen on your cheeks.

You don’t realize it until later on—what the heat on your face and the flutter of your heart meant (because crushes are a little hard to figure out, in your opinion)—but that’s the moment you saw him.

Kim Taehyung.

Your father calls after you, and you hear your grandmother open the front door. Snapping out of it, you slide the car door shut and run inside.

You don’t see Kim Taehyung until you come back to visit 2 months later.

This time, he appears much, much closer. On the front porch of your grandmother’s house, in fact—hidden behind his own grandmother’s leg shyly.

“Oh, Taehyung here says that he saw your granddaughter last time she came to visit and wanted to play. But he’s a little shy,” his grandmother says, smiling fondly as she reaches down to ruffle the boys hair.

“Oh, Y/N is a little shy too,” your grandmother laughs, placing her hand on your shoulder. “But what do you say? Would you like to play with Taehyung today?”

Your eyes flit to Taehyung, excitement and anxiousness mingling in your veins. Trying to make new friends has always been scary to you, but…

“Yes,” you say, watching as Taehyung immediately perks up—smile breaking out on his face.

“C’mon!” he shouts and reaches forward, clasping your hand in his. He tugs you right out the front door and onto the grass, beaming a box-shaped grin as he makes his way back towards the road.

“I have some action figures we can play with!” he declares as his grandmother promises to have you home by dinner in the background. “Nana just got me a new game too! It’s a game with marbles and I’m still learning it but I think it’d be fun!”

For a moment, you simply stare at him—caught off guard by his friendly demeanor, when just seconds ago he had been acting much shyer than you. And yet—

His smile is contagious, and you laugh, nodding your head as he leads you across the dirt road—hands still clasped tight.

“Let’s play with it all!”

You tell your dad that you want to start visiting grandma more. With a knowing smile, he says that he’ll try to work it out.

Taehyung is your best friend. Some people at school don’t believe that your best friend is a boy who lives in the country. In fact, the mean girls’ claim that he’s made up—an imaginary friend that you say exists since you only have a select few friends at school. But, you know that he’s real.

The warmth of his hand in yours as you walk around the field behind his grandmother’s house is proof enough.

Between the ages of 8-10, you are able to visit Taehyung quite frequently. Your parents work out a play date schedule with his grandmother, and at least once a month you’re able to drive out of the busy city and into the quiet country to visit him.

Since Taehyung lives with his grandmother, but your grandmother only gets to see you so often, there’s a bit of a rule—

“Make sure to spend time with your grandma too, Y/N. I know Taehyung is fun, but your grandma loves you very much and would love to spend time with you as well.”

So, you make sure to tell Taehyung that you can only play with him until dinner. He’s unperturbed.

“Let’s just ask your grandma if I can spend the night then!”

He takes your hand and leaps into action. You’re shocked at his declaration, but blushing at the thought of being able to spend even more time with him. And when Taehyung runs through the front door of your grandmother’s house and loudly exclaims his idea to her, she only laughs and smiles fondly.

“You won’t be able to spend the night all the time, Taehyung, but I’ll let you spend the night tonight, okay?” She places a hand on his dark hair that has turned a little brown thanks to the exposure of the sun, and grins at you when your eyes sparkle with excitement. “Just go home and make sure it’s alright with your Nana.”

Taehyung nods so quickly you think his neck might snap, and the next second he’s out the door.

That night, the three of you feast on grilled cheese and tomato soup. Your grandmother puts on the Lion King for you both to watch, and you sit hip to hip, shrouded in a thick blanket while your grandmother knits in the corner. When the scary parts happen, you reach for Taehyung’s hand under the blanket, and he holds you tight.

Once the movie is done, and the sun has set, your grandmother tucks you both into the double bed in the guest bedroom. She asks if Taehyung wants to use the pullout bed to have more room, but you’re both quick to interject, saying that sharing the bed will be fine.

Your grandmother only smiles.

“Goodnight, Y/N. Goodnight, Taehyung.”

“Goodnight!” you both chorus, and your grandmother flicks the light off and closes the door. Taehyung rolls to face you. In the darkness, you feel his lips touch your forehead.

“Tae!” you squeal quietly, jumping in shock as you quickly bring your fingers up to touch your head. Your cheeks feel as if they’re on fire, but Taehyung doesn’t seem to realize that he’s done anything out of the ordinary.

“What? My Nana always gives me a kiss before I go to bed!”

“O-Oh,” you stutter, wondering if Taehyung can hear the pounding of your heart in your chest. “Okay.”

It’s silent for a few seconds.

Taehyung shifts against the sheets.

“Can you…um…are you gonna give me one back?”

The heat from your cheeks creeps down your neck.

You’ve never kissed a boy before…

“I…I can. Do you want me to?”

“Mhmm,” he answers, and you wonder if he’s blushing like you are. His tone sounds shyer than before.

You take a deep breath and puff out your chest, trying to calm your frazzled 10 year old nerves. This is just Taehyung—your best friend, and…the boy…you like.

Before you can think to back out and hide yourself away in embarrassment, you lean forward and press your puckered lips to his forehead. His bangs are in the way, since you hadn’t thought to move them, but Taehyung seems satisfied nonetheless.

“Thanks,” he says, snuggling into his pillow. You nod to yourself, settling back down. The moonlight coming through the window is dim, but you wonder if it’s enough for Taehyung to see how red your face has become.

You feel his warmth spreading against the sheets, and your knees knock together. Taehyung yawns, suddenly sounding quite tired.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Tae,” you respond, closing your own eyes as exhaustion from a day of fun begins to sink into your bones. Outside, you hear the chirping of crickets and the muted calls of cicadas. The sounds begin to lull you into slumber. However, just before you fall asleep—

“I love you…,” you catch the words mumbled by Taehyung, and mentally question if perhaps the boy has forgotten that he’s not at his grandmother’s home. But either way—

“I love you too,” you respond in a whisper, too tired to be embarrassed, and promptly pass out.

Taehyung is a year older than you, so he starts middle school a year sooner. According to him, middle school is a lot harder than elementary school. You come to believe him when his grandmother sadly tells you that you won’t be able to come over and play as much, since Taehyung needs to focus on his studies. You tell her that you understand, but a part of you doesn’t want to.

Either way, you give Taehyung a hug and wish him good luck before running back across the road to spend the afternoon with your grandma.

Your trips to the countryside lessen—cut in half. You see Taehyung perhaps once every two months, and in order to try and make up for his lack of appearances in your life, the two of you begin substituting play dates for phone calls.

Once a week, Taehyung and you sit down and talk for an hour. He tells you all about middle school and the friends he’s made and the kids who aren’t exactly nice to him. In return, you tell him about how you’re looking forward to starting middle school next year, and how you’ll always protect him from bullies. He laughs and assures you the same.

For a time, you think that this substitution will work just fine. Except…you miss him, and talking to him on the phone makes you miss him more.

You want to see him—his skin that is tan from the sun and his clothes that are always a little dirty from helping his grandmother tend to the field. His voice gives you comfort, but nothing can replace the feel of his hand in yours and the way he smile so brightly every time he sees you…

“Y/N?” Taehyung questions when he hears you sniffle on the other end of the line. “Are you okay?”

From the comfort of your home, you shake your head. Tears roll down your rosy cheeks, and you curl into yourself, bottom lip trapped between your teeth. Taehyung’s heart breaks, worry flooding his chest as he listens to you try and stifle your sobs. He attempts to calm you down, asking again what’s wrong, and it takes a minute before you’re able to gather any words to say.

“I miss you,” you sob, quiet and broken, and Taehyung jolts—as if to jump through the phone and give you the biggest hug he possibly can.

“I miss you too,” he says after a few seconds, and you can hear the sadness in his voice. “But we’ll definitely see each other again, Y/N. I promise.”

“Promise?” you echo, messily wiping the tears off your cheeks with your palm.

“I promise. Even if it isn’t on the farm we’ll meet again. I’ll find a way.”

“Okay,” you respond with a smile, finally feeling reassured. “Good.”

“Now no more crying!” he declares, his tone goofy, and it immediately makes the mood brighten. “You should only smile when you think of me!”

You giggle. ”Okay, Tae, when I think of you, I’ll smile.”

Reclining back against his mattress, phone pressed to his ear, Taehyung blushes happily.

“Good.”

It takes a while, but you and Taehyung meet again. It’s not a planned meeting—in fact, it’s not exactly meant to happen, but you decide to make it happen.

“Y/N!” your father calls after you as you hop out of the car and run back down the drive way towards the dirt road. You pass a few cars on the way—those belonging to your aunts and uncles—but despite the fact that you have somewhere else to be your heart is alight with excitement.

“I’ll be right back!” you call to your parents as they watch you run across the street, shaking their heads. “I just wanna say hi!”

“Don’t be too long! You’re not here to play!” your mother responds, and you understand. You’re here for a family gathering, not to hang out with Taehyung.

…but still.

You hop onto the doorstep of the home of Taehyung’s grandmother, and knock at the door. You’re giddy with excitement, shoe tapping against the ground. It’s been over a year since you’ve seen Taehyung, and 6 months since the phone call where he’d promised that you’d see each other again.

You worry if he actually wants to see you, since it’s been so long, but oh—how you’ve missed him.

The door is pulled open, and a boy with short black hair stands before you. He blinks, brown eyes wide, and you have to glance up to meet his stare. His chest is broader and his legs are longer but—

“Taehyung?” you question, as if you’re deceived. How can one boy grow up so much in just one year? And yet, the sound of his name coming from your mouth has his signature grin breaking out on his lips, and he nods excitedly. His arms extend outwards, and he envelopes you in a tight hug, your feet nearly lifting off the ground.

“You’ve grown up,” you giggle against his shoulder, wrapping your arms around him in return. Taehyung laughs, leaning back, and there’s a blush on his cheeks.

“Yeah, well, I’m almost 14. Puberty is finally starting to kick in, I guess,” he laughs, scratching at his cheek, and your eyes flit up to his hair.

“Your hair looks better this way,” you tell him, fingers lifting to comb through the short, black locks on his head. He no longer has the shaggy bowl cut you’ve always seen him with.

Taehyung blushes visibly at the compliment, the feeling of your fingers in his hair foreign, yet welcome. You toy with the soft strands for another few seconds before you notice the pink color on his cheeks, and you end up feeling quiet warm as well.

Quickly, you pull your hand back, and it’s at that moment that Taehyung’s grandmother appears over his shoulder.

“Oh! Y/N, it’s been so long!” she says, and Taehyung steps aside to give his grandmother room to hug you. She seems frailer than you remember, so you try not to squeeze too hard.

“Hi Grandma Kim, it’s nice to see you.”

“I’ve been waiting for you to show up again!” she exclaims, and then turns, heading back into the small home. “Wait right there, I’ve got something to give you!”

“Okay!” you respond as she disappears, and your eyes immediately return to Taehyung. He smiles, a fond twinkle in his eye.

“Is middle school as great as you thought it would be?” he questions, and you huff.

“Not exactly. It’s hard, and I have a lot of homework, but it’s still fun I guess. More teachers and more exciting classes.”

Taehyung’s eyes shift to the side, the sound of his grandmother coming back towards the door reaching his ears.

“Well, next year I’ll be in high school, so once school starts I’ll call and let you know what it’s like in comparison to middle school, if you want.”

“Of course!” you respond, beaming a smile, and at that moment Grandma Kim reappears.

“Here you go sweetie,” she says and reaches past Taehyung, slinging a thick red blanket around your shoulders. You blink, reaching up to secure the large blanket tighter around yourself. Grandma Kim smiles.

“I made it for you. You always did get cold in the winter, and the colder days are approaching.”

Your lips part, and you find yourself speechless. She…had made this for you and waited all this time…?

“Thank you…,” you say sincerely, and Grandma Kim ruffles your hair.

“Of course, sweetie. Now run on home—I bet the rest of your family is waiting for you.”

“Okay!” you nod, smiling, but when your eyes shift to Taehyung your smile wavers. You’d barely gotten to talk with him, and who knows when you’ll be able to meet him again…

You push forward and wrap your arms around him once more, squeezing him tightly. Taehyung blinks, caught off guard, but is quick to hug you back, his fingers digging into the fabric of the blanket around you.

“We’ll talk soon,” you tell him, and he nods.

“Alright,” you both pull back, but Taehyung doesn’t get too far. You feel the blanket on your shoulders shift, and Taehyung blinks in surprise as a loose thread follows the retreat of his body—curled tightly around one of his fingers.

“Ah—,” he pauses, head turning to look back at his grandmother, fearing that he’ll be in trouble for ruining the blanket she had put so much time into making, but his grandmother is far from mad. In fact, there’s a look of wonder on her face—one that lasts only a few seconds, before her eyes soften with understanding.

“You know, you two,” she begins, finger lightly tracing the unwoven strand that keeps you and Taehyung tied together. “It’s said that a red string connects two people that have linked fates.”

“Really?” you question, and she nods.

“Really. This just shows that no matter how far apart you two are, you’ll always be connected. Don’t you think so?”

You and Taehyung glance at each other, a soft blush having risen on both of your cheeks, and you smile. Together, the two of you bob your heads in unison. Grandma Kim smiles.

“Good,” she says, and unties the string from around Taehyung’s finger. At that moment, the door of your own grandmother’s house opens, and the voice of a child is heard.

“Y/N! Dinner! C’mon!”

“Coming, Kook!” you shout back, and take a step backwards, raising a hand to the two in front of you. “Bye, Tae. Bye Grandma Kim!”

“Bye!” Taehyung yells, waving back as you turn and jog across the street, red blanket fanning around you like a cape. A few seconds later, you disappear through the front door of your grandmother’s house, a small brown haired boy closing the door, and Taehyung feels a little empty again.

Little did either of you know that that would be your last time seeing each other.

You talk on the phone every so often still, but you’re both busy with school and clubs. Taehyung continues to help his grandma tend to the fields, and you’re busy with sports and homework, so over time your calls to one another slowly cease. You never forget about Taehyung, and sometimes you long to see him, but life is just too busy.

You turn 14, and Taehyung turns 15. You’re no longer at an age where it’s fun to spend the night at grandma’s house. You’d rather be hanging with your friends or playing video games at home. So, you really don’t go to your grandmother’s house anymore.

In fact, the next time you go to your grandmother’s house is after you visit her in the hospital—pale, and ill. She manages to remember your name, and you tell her you love her, breaking down in tears as you drive home that night. The next day, she passes away.

Her house has to be sold, and the whole family takes a day off to help pack up her belongs and get the house ready to be put on the market.

Taehyung recognizes your father’s car in the drive way from across the street, and jumps up to go and say hi. His grandmother stops him at the door, shakes her head no, and with a pout Taehyung stares out the front window, wishing he could see you.

That evening, you drive away from your grandmother’s house and never come back.

“Fuck,” you hiss as some of the coffee in your portable mug splashes across your fingers as you rush to lock the door to your apartment. With a loud sigh you set your coffee on the carpeted floor, bag and purse following right behind it, and move to try and lock your door again.

Outside you can hear the bustle of cars and honking of horns, signifying that today is just like any other Monday—a clusterfuck of everyone attempting to get to work on time.

Picking up your belongings—you’re careful to keep the hot coffee from spilling again as you head towards the elevator. The double doors slide shut behind you, and you descend to the ground floor of your apartment building.

The front desk manager you’ve come to know throughout your last 2 years living here smiles at you, wishing you good luck on the shoot today, and you know that you’ll need it.

Currently, you work as a photography assistant for a fashion magazine. It’s a lot of work, considering that you, the newbie, pretty much act as the rest of the staffs pack mule. According to your job description, you’re supposed to be helping with lighting, prop positioning, and overall arrangement of the set. And, to be fair, you typically do all those things on a daily basis, but…they also have you: running for coffee, assisting in the photo editing process, cleaning up the set, packing equipment, and a few other random jobs.

Truthfully, you don’t get paid enough for what you do. However, this is the only job that would hire you straight out of college that didn’t pay minimum wage, so for now you plan to stick through it and gain the experience.

Exiting your building, you turn left and head through the fairly crowded streets. You’re used to living in a suburban-city setting, since you’d grown up there, but metropolitan areas like this still overwhelm you at times.

The car your father had driven since your childhood is still sat in the driveway of your parent’s home two hours away. Your dad had offered to give it to you, since it was time for him to get a new one, but you’d sadly turned down his offer after you’d come to sign the lease for the apartment and seen how utterly useless a car would be in the traffic packed streets.

While you hate it, you travel quicker on foot.

Keeping stride, you make your way down the road. The studio is about 15 blocks away from your apartment building, so it’s not too terrible of a walk. At least, not until the sun is beating down on you unbearably, or the snow is up to your knees. During times like that, you sacrifice one of your meals out for the week and call an Uber instead.

However, today seems to be a pretty solid day considering you walk into work right on time with no delays.

You traverse the large, open space—greeting your coworkers with small smiles and many “good mornings”. The set is bustling like usual, everyone working to get lighting and props positioned. You’ve got two shoots planned today—one with a local upcoming actress in the morning, and one with a male model in the afternoon.

“Y/N! Go and grab the fan! I think we’ll need it,” the director shouts, and you call back in acknowledgement. Dropping your bag and drink off in a vacant chair, you jump into another busy day. But honestly, you don’t even mind.

Time flies. Between fetching things for the staff, setting up equipment, and whatever else—you rarely ever look at the clock. The actress arrives, the shoot commences, and before you know it someone is announcing that lunch is here.

You spend the much needed break munching on the catered sandwiches and scrolling through your phone. The actress thanks everyone for their work and departs. Once she’s gone, the director announces that the model should be arriving soon.

And so, lunchtime ends. You throw your trash away and move to help rearrange the set. Not much changes, but still—the photographer is particular, and especially so today.

“He’s very good looking, so I need to make sure everything is perfect,” you hear the middle aged woman say. She fiddles with her camera, and you’re tempted to roll your eyes. She’s never made a single mistake, but she’s stressing out because the model coming in is hot? Amazing.

Somewhere in the distance a metal door creaks open, and all attention turns in the direction of the entrance. The first person to step in must be the star of today’s shoot, because nearly all the women in the room swoon.

The model—whose name you unfortunately don’t remember—is indeed handsome. He’s tall and well proportioned—platinum blonde hair styled lazily, and glasses hanging off the tip of his nose. There’s a bored look on his face as he enters, eyes idling on the phone in his hand, but when the photographer happily calls his name he immediately looks up and plasters a smile on his face.

“V! How nice to see you!”

“Director, always a pleasure,” he responds charmingly, voice deeper than you had been expecting. As the two exchange pleasantries, you can’t help but stare. There’s…something so familiar about “V”. You can’t place it, because you’re sure you’d remember meeting a face like that, but…

“Hey,” your co-worker nudges you, sending you a little glare. “Stop ogling.”

You blush, holding up your hands defensively. “No, I’m not—it’s just—”

“Save your excuses,” she cuts you off, sneering. You’re a little shocked. You’ve never seen her like this before. It’s like she’s being…possessive?

“I…okay, my bad,” you settle on responding, and she nods in satisfaction—her attitude doing a complete 180 as V makes his way over. When he gets close enough, he politely bows, and you reciprocate dutifully. However, once he breezes past—heading over to where makeup and wardrobe are set up—you can’t help but stare after him.

Your eyebrows pinch together. There’s something about him…something familiar, but what?

You feel daggers being glared into your back and immediately avert your gaze from the model. Behind you, your coworker watches you like a hawk as you speed walk away from her and towards the set.

“Anything I can do to help?” you ask your director as she frets about. A handful of other people are tweaking props at her command.

She waves a hand at you. “I think we’re just about fine here. Why don’t you go and make sure V is comfortable—fetch him what he wants.”

You glance over your shoulder, spotting the coworker who had been glaring at you. She’s distracted now, but…

“Are you sure I should be doing that? Maybe—”

“You’ve done it fine before, so I trust you to take good care of him. V is one of my favorites,” she cuts you off, no room for argument. You frown.

“Is his name really V?”

At that, your director pauses, looking back at you curiously. You’re asking such a silly question during a time like this?

“No, of course not. It’s his modeling name.”

“Do you know his real name?” you ask, biting your lip. Something about V has a feeling of déjà vu lingering in the back of your head, but the memories won’t come forth. Maybe if you knew his name, then—

“I don’t know! I think it’s “Kim” something! Now go and do your job—we’ll be starting the shoot soon.”

You startle out of your thoughts, bowing to her in apology before scurrying off.

“Kim…,” you mumble aloud as you head towards where the model is seated, once again busying himself with his phone as the hair dresser circles around him. All of the sudden, your grandmother pops into mind—her wrinkled face smiling brightly as she greets you on the porch of her house.

You shake your head—why are you remembering her at a time like this? You’d mourned properly, there’s no reason—

“Did you need something?” a deep voice speaks, and you look up to find that you’re stood beside V. His eyes are boring into you, unamused. Embarrassment swims in your chest.

“I—yeah, sorry, my director wanted me to see if there’s anything I could get you before the shoot started.”

V eyes you a second, and then glances down at his phone. “I could use a coffee. 2 sugars.”

“Sure,” you respond, bowing, and then hurry towards the table in the back where the drinks are. Your face feels warm, and inside you feel a bit…hurt? You’ve never worked with V before, but he’s not as nice as you had hoped…it seems like the only one he’s willing to warm up to is the director, and that’s likely because she’s the one that’s going make his photos turn out well.

Reaching for a cup, you mindlessly pour in the freshly brewed coffee from the pot nearby and then grab two packets of sugar. After mixing the drink, you idle for a few seconds, and a coworker nearby taps your shoulder.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry!” you respond, laughing in embarrassment.

What the hell is up with you today? You’re never this distracted during shoots. It’s always business—what comes next, what can you do to help. So why is today any different?

Turning, you begin to head back towards where V is seated. You make it a few steps before a male in a chair nearby pushes up and approaches the model. He says something to V—something you’re too far away to hear—and the model sighs in aggravation, pushing up from the stylist’s chair.

“I told you to tell the company that I wasn’t interested in doing that shoot, Namjoon hyung.”

“I did, but they think it’ll be a good opportunity for you,” the taller male—likely his manager, by the sound of it—responds. V laughs bitterly.

“Fuck them.”

Namjoon clicks his tongue, narrowing his eyes at V in disappointment. “Taehyung, you know if I could I—”

Taehyung? The name echoes in your head, and your stride slows, eyes going wide. All of the sudden, clear as day, an image of your childhood friend flashes in your head. Silly smile, shaggy black hair—none of it’s the same as it was all those years ago, but—

“Taehyung,” you speak, his name wondrous on your tongue. There’s no doubt in your mind that it’s him. He has grown up, but it’s him. It’s your childhood friend—the boy who you’d loved and lost, thanks to the flurry of life.

It’s Taehyung.

Tears well in your eyes uncalled upon.

Hearing his name—his real name that not a lot of people know—Taehyung and his manager turn to look at you. The cup of coffee in your hand mindlessly slips from your fingers, hitting the ground and splashing hot liquid all over Taehyung and Namjoon’s shoes.

It takes a second, but you come to realize what you’ve done. Fear battles with nostalgic feelings of love inside your head as you debate how to react to the accident. However, when Taehyung frowns at you—judgement written in his gaze—the fear wins over.

“I’m so sor—”

“Seriously?” he cuts you off, sighing loudly. He bends to try and wipe some of the coffee off his shoes, and the hair stylist quickly offers him a rag. You remain standing there, shocked. You heart aches painfully, because this isn’t how you’d hoped this moment would go…

“V! Oh my gosh, I am so sorry about her!” the coworker who had glared at you earlier exclaims, swooping in with a handful of napkins. She gets on her knees and begins cleaning up the mess on the ground, all the while batting her eyes up at him.

“This never would have happened had I been the one to help you.”

All of the sudden, you’re aware of at least a dozen pairs of eyes on you. Everyone is watching to see how this will play out, and you’re sure none of them are aware of you inner turmoil.

You glance up to Taehyung, and his face only portrays annoyance. Suddenly, you no longer feel like long lost friends. You feel like he’s on a pedestal in front of you, and you’re some lowlife servant who had made a mistake.

Your bottom lip quivers.

You can’t handle this right now. The image of the boy you had loved during childhood compared to the current man in front of you are too stark a contrast. You feel like you’re drowning in your emotions.

Not daring to say another word, you bow a full 90 degrees, and then turn on your heel and head for the door.

“Y/N, wait--!” your co-director calls, one of the nicer people on set. There’s a sliver of sympathy in his eyes as he watches you, but it’s not enough to make you stay.

Hurriedly, you gather up your bags. Somewhere in the background you hear your name again. It’s spoken slowly—in confusion.

“Y/N?” Taehyung’s brows knit in confusion, his gaze glancing from the co-director to you. Your back is tense as you hurry to escape, and Taehyung finds himself regarding you closer now—the way your hair moves, the color of your eyes, the fullness of your lips—

His eyes widen—dread pooling in his gut. There’s no way…

“Y/N,” he says again, realization dawning on him. This time you glance over your shoulder, briefly meeting his eyes. You can see the wonder in his gaze as his face goes slack, but all he can see in yours is hurt. His heart aches.

You exit the building. Taehyung’s fingers twitch at his sides—his stare still lingering on the door where you had disappeared.

For a moment, he’s enthralled. His heart begins to race. He’s finally found you, after all this time! But…

He places his face in his hands, a groan muffled in the back of his throat. He had fucked up.

Dammit! He thinks, wishing he could kick himself in the ass. Of all the days for you to walk back into his life, it’d been the one where he’d allowed his frustrations to get the best of him.

His company had been pestering him for days about doing more risqué photoshoots—ones that he had expressed no interest in doing—but they’d been accepting invitations behind his back. Today his anger about the situation had finally boiled over…

“V?” The director asks, voice close, and Taehyung suddenly remembers that he’s on a photoshoot. Taking a deep breath, he looks up and flashes the director a smile.

“Sorry about that. Can we start the shoot? I’d like to get home and rest. I’m not feeling too well.”

“Of course!” she responds, and immediately the crew is bustling to get to their places. When Taehyung is no longer surrounded by onlookers, he allows his shoulder to droop in defeat. Beside him, Namjoon quietly speaks up.

“That didn’t happen to be the love of your life from ages 9 to 15 that you just yelled at, did it? The one you bring up at least half a dozen times a week? The one—”

“Yes, hyung,” Taehyung cuts him off, glaring a little. He doesn’t need to be reminded of his dumb-assery right now.

Namjoon blinks.

“Oh…that’s rough, buddy.”

If glares could kill, Namjoon would be dead.

When you get back to your apartment, you promptly drop your bags onto the floor, kick off your shoes, and order a large pizza for one. Tears are streaming down your cheeks as you settle into your couch, wrapping yourself in your favorite blanket.

“I’m an idiot,” you sob into cushions. Taehyung’s angry face pops into your head, and your heart breaks a little. Realizing that V was Taehyung had made you so…excited and giddy! After all this time you’d finally managed to meet him again! Despite the years apart you had never forgotten about him, and had hoped that you’d be able to find him and reunite but…

To think it would happen like this.

You weep grossly, feeling frustrated with yourself that you’re so upset over one bad reunion. So what if you’d imagined marrying him? So what if you’d envisioned an entire life together? That was when you’d been kids, and…and…

People change.

You just hadn’t expected Taehyung to change so much.

Sitting up, you reach for the box of tissues on the coffee table in front of you.

Obviously Taehyung had grown up to be quite the looker. You had never imagined him with glasses and colored hair—standing there looking like a proportioned god, but…what had happened to his happy-go-lucky personality? The Taehyung you know would never yell at anyone. He would have walked onto the set with a bright and sunny smile—greeting everyone and even offering to help if he could.

You dab your eyes. Perhaps its best, then, that he’d given you a hard awakening today.

“Mm,” you nod to yourself, feeling a little bit better. Even if this wasn’t what you had been hoping for, it’s good that you’d learned the truth. Now you can stop holding onto all those feelings of longing. The Taehyung you know clearly isn’t the Taehyung of the present.

You blow your nose in a second tissue, desperately trying to convince yourself that that’s the correct way to be thinking right now. And yet—

The look on Taehyung’s face when he’d realized who you were pops into your head, and your heart foolishly holds onto some hope.

He had looked regretful towards the end, but that still doesn’t change the things he’d done and said.

Suddenly your doorbell rings, and you look up to find that an hour has already passed.

“Shit!” you hiss, remembering the pizza you’d ordered. You struggle to unwrap yourself from the blanket, yelling towards the door when the bell rings again.

“Coming! One sec!”

You finally get to your feet and scuttle to where you’d abandoned your purse. You grab a 20, spare another second to make sure you look like you haven’t been having a breakdown, and then run to the door.

The pizza delivery guy forces a smile when you greet him, simply telling you your total. You hand him the 20 and tell him to keep the change, and he’s gone as soon as the pizza box is in your arms.

With the help of pizza, and perhaps a shot or two, you’re sure you’ll be able to get over the heartbreak of today’s events with Taehyung.

You grab a plate and drink from the kitchen before settling back into the couch. You then pull up Youtube on your TV, and search the type of video that never fails to make you laugh—vine compilations.

You’re about 3 compilations and 5 slices of pizza in when there’s a knock at your door.

You blink in surprise, reaching over to pause the video.

Who the fuck?

You hesitate in getting up, but decide that you’d better answer it. If it’s your neighbor two doors down—the one who always gives you shit for not answering your door, even if you’re not home—then you’d just be better talking to them now.

Standing up, you brush the crumbs off your shirt and head to the door. You don’t bother looking through the peephole—because who else would it be but a neighbor?—so when you pull open the door and find none other than Kim Taehyung standing there, you almost die.

“Um, hi,” he starts off, smiling a little awkwardly. You stare at him with unabashed surprise, frozen on your feet. He notices you glance back into your apartment, like you’re debating running away and locking him out, so Taehyung quickly speaks up.

“Okay, so first, I’m super sorry for just showing up like this! I asked the director to give me your contact info because I felt absolutely terrible about what happened earlier and I know if I had just called you to say sorry it wouldn’t have felt right, so I decided to pay you a visit instead. And I know that’s so fucking awkward,” he babbles, missing the way your eyes lighten.

“—But I really have wanted to see you all these years and to think that I was such an asshole to you earlier, I’m so so SO sorry. I promise you I’m not a huge stuck up prick, I’ve just been dealing with some stuff lately and I’ve been stressed out, so—”

“Shut up, you dumbass,” you interrupt him, and Taehyung goes silent when he feels your arms wrap around his neck. You hug him tightly, tears pooling into the fabric of his shirt. You know it’s sudden—to just jump on him like this, but…this is your Taehyung. Genuine and apologetic and awkward—everything you remember and everything you loved.

Butterflies flood Taehyung’s stomach, and he wastes no time hugging you back. He holds you like you’re his lifeline, fearing that if he lets go you’ll disappear for another decade.

“So…am I forgiven?” he asks hopefully and you laugh. Pulling back, you smack his chest, and he jolts.

“You embarrassed me in front of all my coworkers to the point I ran home crying,” you remind him, and his face saddens at hearing he’d made you cry. Immediately he looks like a scolded puppy.

“I don’t know how many time I can say sorry but if you pick a number I promise I’ll say it that many times,” he tells you, smiling a little when he hears you laugh. You glance up at him fondly, and Taehyung finally notices the redness in your eyes. It seems you’d been crying for a while…

Heart aching, he reaches down and grabs your hands—his thumbs soothing over your knuckles methodically. You eye him curiously, cheeks feeling warm. The two of you used to be intimate like this all the time, and it’d always made you blush. It seems like nothing has changed in that regard.

“I really am so sorry, Y/N. I would love if we could sit down and talk, and I understand if you’re not ready to forgive me yet. But please give me a chance.”

You shake your head at him, smiling. “You’re such an idiot. But…I missed you,” you admit shyly, squeezing his hands. The tips of Taehyung’s ears turn red at your admission.

“So yes, I’d love to sit down and talk. I think we’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

“Yes, we do,” Taehyung laughs, and your eyes meet for a few long seconds. Then, you both glance away. Taehyung coughs, stepping back and dropping your hands.

“So, um, I’ll text you? I got your number from the director, so…”

“Yeah, that sounds good!” you respond, taking a small step back into the threshold of your apartment. Taehyung smiles.

“Okay! I’ll text you soon then!”

“Okay,” you respond, feeling a little awkward as your heart begins to ache. A part of you doesn’t want him to leave. Taehyung must feel the same, for he lingers a moment too long.

“Well, ah, I guess I’ll actually go now.”

“Okay, Taehyung,” you say, your gaze fond, and Taehyung’s heart thrums. Finally, he turns on his heel and heads back towards the elevator, glancing over his shoulder once or twice to wave. Once he’s gone, you close the door to your apartment. Tears are welling up in your eyes once more. However, this time they aren’t due to sadness.

Making your way to your bedroom, you throw yourself onto the mattress and hug your pillow happily, a feeling of relief overwhelming you. Just hours ago you’d been planning to try and forget about Taehyung forever, but now…

You smile stupidly, more tears falling.

Now you can’t wait to see him again.

The next day, Namjoon fully expects Taehyung to walk out of his apartment building a stupid mess. Even if he had begged the director for your contact information, what kind of person would just forgive the guy who yelled at her for an honest mistake? And after he shows up at your apartment unannounced no less.

Sighing, Namjoon flicks through his Twitter feed, mentally preparing himself for another rough day. It’s already hard enough trying to delegate between Taehyung—who’s trying to preserve his values—and the agency—who wants to make money. Thanks to the ongoing feud, Taehyung has been in an irritable mood for quite some time now, and the only thing that seems to help ease the tension is when Namjoon brings up your name.

Honestly, before yesterday he really didn’t have the slightest clue of who you were besides the fact that Taehyung had been in love with you during childhood. He spoke of memories of you all the time—your name becoming one to remember even for Namjoon—who had no connection to you. Despite never being around the two of you during your time as kids, Namjoon had unknowingly come to support your friendship thanks to Taehyung’s reminiscing.

Which is why yesterday, when Taehyung had accidentally lost his cool and sent you running, Namjoon’s heart had ailed. He’d always imagined the two of you reuniting like long lost lovers in a cheesy romance movie—all smiles, with roses blooming in the background. Not…spilled coffee, and hurtful words.

I better try my best to cheer him up today, Namjoon thinks to himself, glancing up from his seat in the back of the taxi. His timing is impeccable, because at that moment Taehyung exits his apartment building and strides towards the cab.

His face is practically glowing. Namjoon blinks in surprise.

“Good morning…?” he says as Taehyung pops open the door and slides into the seat beside him. The model’s hair is pulled back by a hairband, so Namjoon is clearly able to see the pleasant look in his eyes—not a stitch of stress anywhere on his face.

“Morning,” Taehyung responds, taking a swig from his water bottle as the taxi pulls away from the curb. Namjoon eyes him. Taehyung must feel his gaze, because after a moment he glances over, cocking an eyebrow.

“What’s up, hyung?”

“Shouldn’t you be looking like a man who hasn’t slept a wink? A man who got his ass kicked? A man—”

“It went fine, hyung,” Taehyung interrupts him with an eyeroll. “I went and apologized and…well, I don’t know if I’m actually forgiven yet, but she didn’t push me away. It went…well,” he says, a small smile tugging at his lips. Namjoon can see the fondness in Taehyung’s downcast gaze, and his eyebrows nearly touch his hairline.

“Really? That’s…well, that’s not what I was expecting, but I’m happy for you. She really must be the goddess you make her out to be if she’s willing to forgive you just like that.”

“I don’t make her out to be a goddess,” Taehyung mumbles in response, pouting a little. A hint of a blush rises on his cheeks, and Namjoon rolls his eyes.

“She’s just…she’s always been a good person.”

“Mhmm, okay. I won’t push it,” Namjoon replies with a good-natured chuckle, and then pulls up the daily schedule on his phone. As he looks it over—double-checking it just in case he missed something earlier—he pipes up again.

“So…what happened?”

Taehyung glances at him curiously, and Namjoon shrugs. “I want to know. I’m nosey, okay?”

Taehyung smirks a little, and after a few seconds of thought responds.

“Well…I basically just told her I was a dumbass and apologized a lot. She—,” suddenly an image of you jumping into him and holding him tightly flashes in his mind, and his heart skips a beat.

“—she told me she was mad about happened, but was willing to meet with me again and talk. Catch up. I told her I’d text her.”

“And have you?” Namjoon questions. Taehyung’s eyes go wide. Namjoon face palms.

“God, please help Kim Taehyung before he loses his mind and his lady.”

“She’s not—shut up, we’re childhood friends!” Taehyung hisses in response, frantically digging in his bag for his phone. Namjoon raises an eyebrow.

“Childhood friends who were mutually pinning.”

Taehyung laughs, the sound sarcastic, yet a blush has risen on his cheeks again.

“Didn’t I show you pictures of me when I was a kid? I didn’t get handsome until college.”

“You think how handsome you were when you were 10 matters to a 9 year old girl?”

“Children are superficial,” Taehyung responds seriously, too busy searching for your number to look up. Namjoon snorts a laugh, staring at him in amusement. What a dumbass.

As Taehyung hurriedly attempts to type up an appropriate text to send you the taxi pulls up to the location of Taehyung’s first shoot of the day. Namjoon gathers his belongings and steps out of the cab, pausing when he looks up to find that Taehyung is not doing the same.

“Tae, we’re here,” he says, ducking his head back into the vehicle. Taehyung is frowning at his phone, tongue poked out from his lips cutely as he concentrates. Namjoon hasn’t seen him think this hard in a while.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, momentarily pocketing his phone as he opens the door and steps out. However, as soon as the two are safely on the sidewalk and headed into the building, Taehyung is back at it.

“Are you writing a novel?” Namjoon snorts, amused. Taehyung huffs.

“I’m just trying to make it sound polite.”

“Don’t make it sound polite,” Namjoon responds, eyes ahead. “Make it sound like you.”

Taehyung pauses, eyes blinking curiously. Him? He glances down at the text on his screen, not yet sent. When he reads it over, it indeed sounds very formal, and that’s not what he wants. He wants…things to be like they were. He’s still himself, and you’re still you.

He backspaces the message. Up ahead the studio doors come into sight, and Namjoon glances back at Taehyung.

“We’re almost there,” he says, giving the model an appropriate heads up. Taehyung nods, thumbs tapping at his phone screen. Just before they enter the studio he hits send, and steps inside with a bright smile.

“Good morning!”

Taehyung immerses himself in his work, and the morning flies past. By the time the shoot has ended, 3 hours have passed. He thanks the crew for their hard work after changing into his regular clothing, bowing and smiling as he makes his way to the door.

“Good work,” Namjoon tells him as they head outside, raising his hand to signal a taxi. Taehyung smiles.

“Thanks, hyung.”

Out of habit, he reaches into his bag and takes out his phone—expecting that he’ll have new social media notifications to attend to. However, when he sees the text notification from you his heart jumps into his throat.

Quickly, he clicks on it. His eyes light up as he reads your response.

Taehyung: Hey, it’s me! Sorry about not messaging you sooner. I’d still love to get together soon! Are you free this weekend?

You: This weekend should work fine! Just let me know a time and place and I’ll be there ^^

There’s a short lapse in the time, and then—

You: I’m looking forward to seeing you, Tae

Taehyung can’t help the grin that overtakes him. At his side, Namjoon smirks.

How nice it must be to be a fool in love.

You both end up deciding on Sunday, but end up not picking a place. Taehyung says that he’ll simply come to your apartment around 2pm, and you can discuss where you want to go together.

You turn your head to glance at the clock on your nightstand. 1:30—he’ll be here in half an hour. Anxiety swims in your gut—your bottom lip pulled between your teeth as you stare into your closet.

What the hell are you supposed to wear? You don’t know where you’re going, or what Taehyung will be wearing. Fuck, the only time you’d seen him so far he’d actually been dressed up pretty stylishly…

“Well, he is a model,” you mumble to yourself, reaching forward to push a few hangers aside. Typically on the weekends you just wear jeans and a t-shirt, but today that seems like too little effort. So, you decide you’ll dress up a bit.

Moving around, you gather a pair of jeans, a black cardigan, and a white V-neck t-shirt. You settle on a pair of dark heeled boots, and throw on a necklace to accessorize. You’re debating what to do with your hair when there’s a knock at your door.

Your eyes go wide, and you glance from the entrance of your apartment to the clock. It’s already 2:03.

Curse you for being so indecisive!

You bustle out of your room and to the front door, only pausing to take a deep breath before you pull it open. As you do, Taehyung glances up and smiles brightly.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hey,” you respond, your eyes raking him over. He’s wearing a jean jacket over a printed t-shirt that’s tucked into a pair of black slacks. His hair is styled a bit lazily, just like you’d seen it the other day, but overall he’s still his handsome self.

“Oh,” Taehyung suddenly says, and you look up to see his gaze on you. His eyes look you over from head to toe, making your cheeks feel warm, and then he tugs at his jacket.

“I think I may have underdressed,” he laughs. You frantically raise your hands.

“No! You look really good!”

Taehyung pauses, lips parting slightly in surprise, and then after a second he smiles cheekily.

“You think so?”

If you weren’t blushing before than you’re certainly blushing now.

“I mean…yeah, you always look good,” you tell him sincerely. He laughs a little, posing a hand on his hip.

“Even when we were kids and I was constantly in overalls and covered in dirt?”

You smile fondly, recalling how he’d been back in the day. He’s grown up so much.

“It was a part of your charm,” you tell him, flashing him a wink. Taehyung looks taken aback, the tips of his ears turning red.

“Really??”

You blink. “Yeah, of course. It was really cute. It was…you.”

“Oh, well, thanks,” he says, lifting his hand to rub his neck, clearly a little embarrassed. Suddenly you feel a bit warm as well.

“Well, come in! I still need to grab my purse, and there’s no point in you standing in the hall!” you exclaim, motioning him inside. Taehyung excuses himself as he enters, looking around your apartment curiously as you retreat into your room to grab your things. His gaze roams over your kitchen, your furniture—the way you’ve decorated your life.

His eyes soften.

He can see bits of the old you mixed in with the bits of you he’s yet to know. The idea that he’ll be able to learn about the times he’s missed with you has him feeling excited.

“Sorry to make you wait!” you exclaim, emerging form your room with a smile. “Where did you want to go?”

“Well, if you haven’t eaten, would you like to get lunch? I know a Chinese place not far from here—assuming you still like fried rice and wonton soup,” he suggests, grinning cheekily when you roll your eyes.

“I can’t believe you remember that.”

“How could I forget the order of the girl who would pick the bean sprouts out of her wonton soup every time we ate it?”

“Okay, so I hated vegetables as a kid—don’t remind me of my terrible eating habits,” you scold him, lightly bumping his shoulder as make your way towards the door. Laughing, Taehyung follows after you.

“The funniest part is that you hated vegetables, but whenever we picked pea pods from the garden and I offered you some, you’d eat them.”

“Well…I mean…,” you sputter, ducking down as you turn to lock the door, hoping that Taehyung can’t see the redness of your face. It’s been years, but you’re not sure you’re ready to tell him that it’s because you’d had a huge crush on him. During your childhood, you would have done just about anything for him.

Taehyung snorts another laugh, and you turn to glare at him.

“Well! If we’re talking about habits from our childhood I could always bring up your obsession with getting forehead kisses before we went to bed during our sleepovers.”

This time, Taehyung is the one turning bright red. Laughter bubbles in your chest as you lead him up the hall.

“I thought it was normal...”

In front of you, the elevator doors open, and you step inside with a small grin. Reaching forward, you hit the button for the ground floor.

“It was your normal—but definitely a little bit embarrassing for me.”

Taehyung blinks innocently. “Did you not like it? I didn’t think you minded after the first time.”

You glance down at your feet, lips pouting slightly. “I mean…it’s not like I didn’t not like it.”

Taehyung grins, and you feel your heart thrum a bit erratically. Happiness swells in your chest as you watch him.

You’re so glad you’d found him again.

Exiting the elevator, you and Taehyung traverse the city streets shoulder to shoulder. Your conversation shifts from childhood reminiscing to the events you’d missed in each other’s lives. You learn that Taehyung had dropped out of college after being scouted by a talent agency, but had been planning to major in Psychology. In return, you inform him that you’d graduated last year, having majored in business and minored in photography (which was your true passion, but not many school offered it as a degree).

“That’s so cool!” he exclaims, wonder in his eyes. “Have you gotten a chance to do any photoshoots yet? As the photographer, I mean.”

“Eh, not really,” you respond, shrugging your shoulders. “I mean—with friends, yeah. They help me out from time to time, just so I can expand my portfolio, ya know?”

“I’ll help you out, if you want!” Taehyung volunteers. Your eyes go wide in shock, and when you imagine being the one behind the camera as Taehyung models your face heats up.

“D-Don’t you have a contract though? Can you really be doing that?”

Taehyung waves his hand in the air flippantly. “As long as you don’t leak the photos to magazines, we should be fine.”

“Well, then I guess that’d be a big help. I’ll probably take you up on that offer sometime,” you say, smiling. Taehyung grins happily in return, and then points up the street.

“Ah, that’s it!” he says, reaching back to grab your wrist. You stare down at his hand as he tugs you into the Chinese restaurant up ahead. He doesn’t let you go even as the hostess leads you to a table, and you wonder if he realizes he’s still holding on.

“They have really good almond chicken here,” he tells you, moving to occupy one side of the booth, but pauses when he feels some resistance. Looking back, he notices that he’s still gripping you tightly, and immediately releases you—his eyes glancing up to your face, half embarrassed and half apologetic.

“I…wow, sorry. I guess I forgot to let go.”

“It’s okay!” you assure him, waving your hands, but you’re both blushing as you settle into your seats. Luckily, the menu distracts you, and your conversation quickly turns to the topic of what you want to order. As it turns out, both of your tastes haven’t changed much from childhood.

After placing the order, a brief silence descends, and Taehyung finds himself biting the inside of his cheek. He glances up at you, shy yet contemplative.

“So…do you have a boyfriend? A girlfriend?”

Your eyes widen in surprise at his question, cheeks flushing, and Taehyung immediately tries to clarify his intent in asking.

“I-I mean! We’ve been apart for so long, I don’t know what’s going on with you anymore, so…”

You shake your head a little. “No, I had a boyfriend in college for about a year, but it didn’t work out. I’ve just…been busy, and no one has really managed to catch my interest…”

Except you, your mind adds in, and if you could punch your brain you would. The crush you’d had on Taehyung had strictly been during childhood…or so you attempt to convince yourself. But when you glance up at the male in front of you—polished, and grown, yet still dorky and charming—butterflies dance in your stomach.

You reach for your water, needing something to help cool you down.

Dammit! Get ahold of yourself.

“What about you?” you pose once you’ve taken a swig. After all, Taehyung is a good looking guy, and a model no less. It’d be weird for him to not be in a relationship.

“Ah, I’m single,” he informs you, and you try to ignore the way your chest lightens in relief. “I’ve been on a few dates in the last year, but they either seem to want me because I’m a model, or they just don’t work out.”

You blink. “Girls seriously go after you just because you’re a model?”

“You’d be surprised how often it happens,” he says, laughing a little. You regard him quietly, a mischievous sparkle coming to your eye.

“How do you know I’m not one of them?”

Taehyung pauses. “One of what?”

“One of the girls going after you just because you’re a hot model,” you clarify, grinning. For a second, Taehyung is silent. Then he mirrors your grin—a playful twinkle lighting up his gaze.

“I’m sorry, say that again? “Hot model”?”

Suddenly you realize what you’ve said, and you face goes bright red. Taehyung laughs heartily as you bury you face in your hands, quietly groaning.

“I hate you!” you whine, and Taehyung smiles so hard his eyes shut.

“No you don’t, don’t lie~” he responds, and when you make another disgruntled sound he laughs some more. His gaze trails on the top of your head, his smile slowly dying down as he watches you. Then, after a few seconds of contemplation, he quietly speaks up.

“Well…for what it’s worth, you’re not too bad yourself.”

Surprised, you glance up at him, heart fluttering when you see the bashful look on his face.

“Really?”

“What?” he says, “you don’t think you’re cute?”

“I mean…I usually do, but like…,” you stumble over your words, not sure what you’re trying to say. Taehyung raises an eyebrow.

“You didn’t think I would think you’re cute?”

His words have you blushing out of embarrassment, and you nod your head a little. He looks slightly appalled.

“You’ve always been cute,” he tells you seriously. You cover your face with your hand again.

“Why are we talking about this?”

For a second, Taehyung debates changing the topic, since clearly he’s making you a bit uncomfortable, but…

“I think it’s good that we’re talking about it,” he admits, watching you carefully. Somewhere within him determination firmly roots itself. Even if it’s been years, and even if it’s awkward to talk about, somewhere within him he’s always had a thing for you—even when you weren’t around.

“Tae…,” you say quietly, not sure how to respond. A part of you wants to explore the path your conversation is taking, but another part of you doesn’t want to risk ruining your friendship. You’d just gotten him back. If you talk about this and it changes things for the worse…you’re sure your heart will break.

“No, seriously Y/N, listen--,” Taehyung begins to say, but at that moment the food arrives. Your waitress arranges the dishes on the table, and then excuses herself. You and Taehyung are left in silence.

“Later, Tae,” you end up saying when you spot him fidgeting in his seat. He looks up at you, eyes creasing as he smiles—a little perplexed, yet hopeful.

“Okay, yeah,” he agrees, and with the topic of your unknown attraction for each other placed on the backburner, you both dig in.

You quickly find yourself glad that Taehyung had suggested this place, because the food is delicious.

“How did I not know this was here?” you say in amazement, staring at the food in front of you. Taehyung chuckles.

“I’m not sure, but I’m glad I could introduce you to it.”

“Seriously, you’ll have to take me out for food more often,” you tell him, half joking, but Taehyung takes it to heart.

“Oh, I can definitely do that,” he grins happily, and you find yourself blushing once more.

How many times can one person possibly make you blush in a day? This is getting ridiculous.

For the remainder of your meal you and Taehyung make pleasant small talk about work and hobbies. Even if it’s about little things, you find yourself thrilled to be able to learn more about his life.

Taehyung, while unbeknownst to you, feels exactly the same way.

“Thank you so much,” Taehyung tells your waitress as she picks up your bill along with a few empty dishes. Once she has walked away, he places his hand in his palm and stares at you. “So, anything else you’d like to do?”

“Well, I--,” you begin to speak, but at that moment Taehyung’s phone rings. Blinking, he digs into his pocket, his eyes going wide when he sees the caller.

“Shit—hello? I, ah, yeah, I’m so sorry. I--,” he glances over at you apologetically. “No, it should be fine, I think I’ll still be able to make it. Yep. Okay, I’ll see you soon.”

With that, he ends the call and then looks up to you. You stare at him with a small, yet sad smile.

“Let me guess, you forgot about a shoot today?”

“No, worse,” he says, scooting to the edge of the booth. He stands, a look in his eyes that you can’t quite place, and you quickly follow after him. He exits the restaurant, and turns to you once you’re both out on the street.

“I’m really sorry Y/N, but I need to go and see…wait,” he says, a baffled look spreading across his face. He laughs, dragging a hand through his hair, and turns his gaze back to you.

“Y/N!” he exclaims, reaching forward to place his hands on your shoulders. “Come with me!”

“With you?” you echo, startled. “To where?”

“To see Nana!” he says, shaking you a little. “She’s in a home outside the city—I forgot that I had said I’d be by to visit today, but I’m sure she’d love to see you! Well, she’s a bit forgetful with names and faces nowadays, but still!”

“I…,” you say, a little shocked. Grandma Kim is still alive? She must be at least 90! “I mean, yeah—if you want me to come of course I’ll come with you.”

“Ah, this is gonna be such a great surprise!” he says excitedly. He turns and starts heading up the street, but then quickly pauses and reaches back to grab your hand. This time he appropriately slots his fingers through yours. When you glance up at him, eyes wide, he simply winks.

“Just for a little bit. You can scold me later if you hate it,” he tells you, and once again you feel warm. However, deep in your heart you can’t deny the contentment that’s growing.

Now on a mission to visit Grandma Kim, you allow Taehyung to lead you through the city. He drags you into the subway, and you take the train to the very edge of town. There, Taehyung hails a taxi, and you drive out of the busy metropolitan area and into suburbia. After a short while, the cab pulls up to a retirement home, and you and Taehyung step out.

“Well, this is it,” he says, standing at your side. As he looks up at the building you can see the sadness in his eyes, but he doesn’t let it deter him.

Turning to you, he smiles pleasantly.

“Let’s go surprise Nana, yeah?”

Taking the lead, Taehyung heads inside. The lady at the front desk scolds him as he enters, but her words die off when she spots you trailing behind him.

“Well, if it’s because of a date then I guess I can’t be too mad!” she exclaims, and then drags Taehyung close, whispering in a voice that’s loud enough for anyone to hear. “She’s really cute—don’t mess it up, okay!”

You and Taehyung share a look, and then promptly glance away, blushing.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, and reaches back to grab your hand once more. He proceeds to tugs you further into the nursing home, leading you through the corridors effortlessly. Then, finally, he pauses in front of a door with the name “Kim” plastered on it.

As you stand there you take a deep breath, suddenly feeling a bit anxious. Taehyung glances over at you, a soft look in his eyes.

“Don’t stress. It’s still her,” he says, squeezing your hand reassuringly, and you nod. You wonder how many times he’s stood here and told himself the exact same thing.

Satisfied, Taehyung reaches forward and slides open the door. You both enter the small room. Near the window, a woman is sat staring out at the trees. It’s been 10 years, but it’s still the Grandma Kim you know and love. She’s just…got a few more wrinkles, and is hunched a bit more.

“Hi, Nana,” Taehyung says softly as he approaches her. You stay near the door, feeling a bit awkward. You’ve come unannounced, and according to Taehyung she’s become a bit senile, so…what if she doesn’t even know who you are?

“Hello, sweetie,” Grandma Kim responds, and even her voice sounds frail. Slowly, she reaches her arms up and returns the hug that Taehyung bends down to give. You notice that he’s careful not to squeeze too hard.

“One of the nurses told me you were late.”

“Ah, yeah, I’m sorry about that. I lost track of time,” Taehyung says, and then glances back at you. He motions his head towards his grandmother, smiling, and you take a small step forward.

“But I brought someone along with me today. You know her.”

“Oh, do I?” she asks, her interest piqued. Taehyung steps to the side, allowing Grandma Kim’s gaze to fall on you. You take a few more steps forward, a hesitant smile pulling at your lips. For a few seconds there’s only silence—Grandma Kim’s eyebrows furrowing in concentration as she looks you over. However, when you raise your hand and smile a little wider, greeting her with “Hi, Grandma Kim” a look of realization washes over her.

“Oh, heavens me!” she exclaims, hands moving to grip the arms of her chair as she struggle to push herself to her feet. Taehyung quickly swoops in, placing his hand under her elbow to give her some support. Once she’s gotten her balance, she pats his arm in thanks and then raises her arms to you.

“Y/N! Dear, what a surprise!”

Instinctively, you step forward and wrap your arms around her—chest alight with relief that even after all this time, she’d still remembered your face.

“It’s so good to see you!” she says, a little unbalanced on her feet. Taehyung steps forward to help, but you’re already offering your arm. Smiling, Grandma Kim takes it, and you help lead her to the bed. Taehyung watches on, a fond look in his eye.

“It’s good to see you too,” you respond sincerely, taking a seat in the chair beside the mattress. “It’s been so long.”

“Oh, not that long!” she refutes, and then glances over to her grandson. “See! You were all worried for nothing! I told you that one day you would find each other again.”

Taehyung blushes, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment. Leave it to grandma to blatantly tell you that he’d been thinking about you all this time. However, you simply smile.

“You always did say that we were connected,” you say quietly, memories resurfacing. Grandma Kim notices the contemplative look in your eyes, and reaches over to grab your hands. She hold them tightly in her own—worn and boney fingers soothing over your skin.

Her eyes soften as she speaks. “Did you get good use out of that blanket? I never got the chance to ask.”

You realize that the last time you’d seen her had been the day she’d given you the blanket. The day you’d given Taehyung one last hug before you’d disappeared from each other’s lives for a decade. And not because it’d been of your own volition, but…

Suddenly you’re remembering your grandmother, smiling and waiting for you on the steps of her home out in the country. The country that you came to love because of her, and Taehyung—and tears sting at your eyes.

You miss her greatly. You wish that she hadn’t died so soon, and that her death hadn’t caused you to lose track of your relationship with your best friend.

“Oh, sweetie,” Grandma Kim soothes, one of her hands moving to grab you a tissue as the tears fall down your cheeks. You sniffle, trying to pull yourself together, and in the background Taehyung’s heart aches. He wants nothing more than to pull you into a hug and never let go.

“I still have it—the blanket,” you admit, voice wobbling a bit as you dry up your tears. You flash Grandma Kim a smile. “After a while it frayed more, so I ended up making it into a scarf. I wear it in the winter when I need warmth, because that’s what you intended it to do—keep me warm.”

“I’m guessing you still get cold,” she laughs quietly, giving your hands a little squeeze, and you nod.

“Every time I’ve worn it I’ve thought of you and Tae.”

Grandma Kim hums happily, and then motions for her grandson to come closer. Dutifully, he does—blinking in surprise when she reaches over to take one of his hands as well. She lifts both of your hands and holds them close to her chest, her eyes shutting. You and Taehyung glance at each other curiously. Then, Grandma Kim speaks again.

“A red string connects two people that have linked fates,” she says, and your and Taehyung’s eyes widen in shock as you realize she’s quoting what she had told you all those years ago.

“Even before I knitted that blanket, I knew that you two would always be connected. No matter the distance, or the struggles. A bond like that can’t simply be broken.”

She opens her eyes and fondly looks up at the both of you. It’s not hard to tell how tired she is. Not just at the moment, but…

“I may be old, and I’m not as spry as I used to be, but I can tell my time is waning,” she says, yet there’s no regret in her voice. She only smiles. You glance over to Taehyung, and can see that his eyes have glazed over with tears.

“That’s why I’m glad you two managed to find each other again. Y/N,” she says, and brings your and Taehyung’s hands closer. One by one, she threads your fingers together, and then cups your and Taehyung’s bound hands with her own. “You are the person in this world who is closest to Taehyung’s heart after me. When I’m gone, I need you to look after him.”

“Grandma Kim, please…,” you beg, emotion welling in your chest. You’re not ready for this. This is your first time seeing her in so long, and now she’s acting like she’ll be gone by tomorrow. How are you even supposed to respond?

“Taehyung,” she continues, pausing to lift her fingers to his face when she sees that he’s crying. Your and Taehyung’s clasped hands fall between your bodies, but neither of you let go. Grandma Kim brushes a few of his tears away, and he bites his lip—unable to face her.

“I am so happy for you, dear. You’ve become such a splendid young man, and I couldn’t be prouder. From now on, don’t let Y/N out of your sight. Perhaps I was wrong to keep you from seeing her that day she returned, but I always knew in my heart you’d find each other again. Even if you forget about it, that red string will always be there, keeping you both connected.”

Silently, tears begin falling from your eyes as well. A small piece of you realizes that this sounds a lot like a blessing, and a goodbye.

“Now, I believe someone should be coming to get me for supper soon,” she comments, as if she hasn’t just emotionally wrecked both you and Taehyung. Sniffling, Taehyung raises his free hand to his face to messily wipe away the rest of his tears.

“Okay, Nana, I’ll come visit again soon,” he promises, and then bends down to hug her once more—his hand unbudging in yours.

Out of the corner of her eye, Grandma Kim glances at you, smiles, and raises her arm a little.

“Come now, dear.”

Laughing, you lean down and hug her as well. The three of you stay like that for a long moment.

“It was so good to see you both,” she says once you pull back, her eyes creased pleasantly. Just then, a knock sounds at the door.

“Mrs. Kim? Are you ready to go and eat?”

“Yes, I’m just about done,” she responds, and one of the staff opens the door to the room. She pushes in a wheelchair, and Grandma Kim flashes you both one last smile.

“Be happy, you two,” she says, thanking the nurse when she offers to help Grandma Kim into her chair. Stepping back, you and Taehyung allow the staff some room to work, and after a second Taehyung pulls you into the hall. You’re both silent, but you give each other’s hand a little reassuring squeeze.

A few moments later, Grandma Kim emerges beside you. She glances up, a look of surprise on her face.

“Y/N! Taehyung! Did you come to visit?”

Taehyung’s demeanor noticeably saddens, and your heart aches for him. Leaning down, he gently kisses his grandmother’s forehead.

“We just visited, Nana. We’ll be back again soon.”

“Is that so? Well, I hope we had a good chat,” she says, smiling, and waves as the nurse begins to push her away. Taehyung waits until she’s gone before he turns toward the entrance.

“Let’s go home.”

Nodding, you walk alongside him—still holding his hand.

The journey back to the city, you and Taehyung talk sparsely, but the atmosphere between you doesn’t necessarily feel uncomfortable. You stay close to each other, sometimes silently brushing hands or knocking your knees together. It’s just…how are you supposed to act after your conversation with Grandma Kim? There are too many things that need to be unpacked…

“Hey, do you mind if I walk you home?” Taehyung asks when you’ve departed the train station—your feet once again planted in the busy city streets. You shake your head, sending him a small smile. You don’t know where he lives, or how far out of the way it may be, but if Taehyung wants to walk you home then you won’t say no.

Besides, maybe he still needs some company after what had happened.

“Sure, Tae,” you respond, and he grabs your hand once more. Together, you make your way back through the streets and to your apartment building. You’re not exactly sure how far he intends to walk you, but he ends up following you into the elevator, and suddenly you’re both stood beside your front door.

“Well, um,” you say, glancing up at him. There’s a look on his face that you can’t quite decipher. “Thank you for walking me home.”

“Yeah, of course,” he responds, but doesn’t move to leave. Taehyung only continues to stare at you, his brows furrowed. You feel heat rising on your face. Just what is he thinking about?

“Well,” you speak again, giving his hand a squeeze—a sign that you’re intending to finally part. However, Taehyung holds on tighter. After a second he steps a little closer, his free hand raising to cup your cheek. Immediately your heart feels like it might explode.

“T-Tae--?” you sputter, the skin on your cheeks burning brilliantly. Taehyung soothes his thumb over the pink flesh, eyebrows knitting together.

“I want to kiss you,” he admits quietly, as if it’s painful for him to say it. You pause, gaze deepening with sympathy, and you raise a hand to place it atop his.

“Is this because of what your grandmother said?”

Closing his eyes, Taehyung shakes his head. “No…No, I’ve…I’ve always wanted this. Since we were kids. Nana’s talk just made me realize how I should come out and say it. Even if you don’t feel the same way, I want you to know how I feel.”

Unsure how to respond, you simply let him speak.

“I know it’s stupid, because how could a crush from childhood possibly withstand a decade without contact, but…since the moment I realized it was you at the studio, and you hugged me and we reconciled, I…I realized that my feelings never waned. Maybe they got put to the side because I was busy with other things, but I never forgot about you, and I never stopped liking you.

“So, even if it doesn’t work out, I need you to know,” he says, a pleading look in his eyes as he stares at you. “I can’t keep these feelings at bay forever. They’ll overtake me, and I’ll drown.”

“I…,” you speak, struggling to find words. You’d noticed during your childhood that your pinning likely hadn’t been completely one-sided, but you’d never imagined Taehyung had felt this strongly. That he’d really been keeping in all his feelings, just like you had…

You’d both been fools.

Biting your lip, you curl your fingers around his palm, steeling your determination, and then press forward. Taehyung makes a small sound of surprise as your lips connect, but he’s quick to react. He wraps his free arm around your waist, pulling you close, and deepens the kiss.

There’s no spark—no electricity running through your body—but there’s a deep feeling of longing, and satisfaction. Desire drives you seek more, and you kiss him again, and again. Your bodies melt together, kisses becoming drawn out with passion.

Deep in his throat, Taehyung groans. He finally releases your clasped hands—instead moving to tangle his fingers in your hair. Your chests are flush now, and the new leverage allows him to take control of the situation—his tongue sneaking past your lips.

You gasp in surprise, your free hand raising to gently push at his shoulder. Getting the hint, Taehyung allows you to nudge him back. There’s a worried look in his eyes, but it’s overwhelmingly outweighed by the look of satisfaction on his face.

“Too far?”

“I…we’re in the hall,” you respond, blushing. Blinking, Taehyung glances side to side, realizing you’re right.

“So…can we go inside then?” his question is a bit cheeky, and you send him a glare that has no real anger behind it. Turning, you face the door and dig in your purse for your keys. As you do so, Taehyung wraps his arms around your waist and places his head on your shoulder. A contented look washes over his features—his heart beating happily. A plethora of emotions threaten to overcome him—because there’s so much he wants to say and do, but for the time being he manages to hold himself back. However…

His eyes shift over to your neck, a large patch of unmarred skin tempting him too greatly. Leaning in, he presses a light kiss to the flesh, pausing when you shiver.

“Tae!” you hiss, nearly dropping the keys you had finally located. Taehyung’s eyes shine with a bit of deviance.

“Sensitive?” he questions, but before you can respond, he’s littering your neck with more kisses. At each one he feels you jolt, your breath coming out in short pants—and he smiles happily. He wants nothing more than to learn you in all the ways he’d been unable to during childhood. Of course, during that time there had been little to no consideration of sexual attraction. All he’d wanted had been hand holding and forehead kisses, and declarations of “I love you”. Perhaps towards the end, when he’d entered high school, he’d begun to contemplate sexual love with you, but—

At that moment you finally open the door to your apartment, and you quickly haul Taehyung inside. He watches as you kick off your shoes and abandon your purse. Once that’s taken care of you turn to face him—your cheeks still prettily pink.

“I…,” you begin to say, eyes darting around nervously before settling on him again. You pout your lips, embarrassed by what you’re about to say. “I want more.”

Taehyung raises an eyebrow, but his heart soars. “More?”

“I mean…if you don’t have anywhere to be, and you weren’t disgusted by what we just did in the hall, then—”

Before you can even finish your sentence Taehyung is sweeping you into his arms once more. The kisses pick up where they left off—hot, and heavy, and opened mouth. The hesitant, nervous nature that had been present in the hall begins to fade away, and you both move more freely.

Grabbing Taehyung by his collar, you lead him to the couch. He stumbles over his feet in his haste, and drags you into the cushions when he falls. You land atop him—your legs slotted together and chests flush. If it were anyone else you might be embarrassed, but right now you’re too caught up in the moment—too caught up in him—to think about it twice.

Leaning down, you connect your lips once more, and Taehyung happily reciprocates. As you kiss, his arms loop around you—one hand resting on the back of your head while the other trails down your spine. Eventually, his palm settles on your ass—fingers giving one of your cheeks a squeeze—and you feel him grin against you.

“Nice,” he simply says, and you huff, pushing your hands against his chest as you prepare to sit up. However, Taehyung only chuckles and uses his grip on your head to pull you back in. Your tongues drag together, and a quiet moan builds in the back of your throat.

Taehyung pauses, pulling back to stare at you. There’s a blush on your face, and you look embarrassed, but…

“Is this okay?” he asks, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious. He hadn’t intended for things to go this far. He had hoped to maybe kiss you a few times, but things had escalated very quickly, and Taehyung can’t exactly ignore the lust that’s growing in his gut.

You nod, hand moving to cup his cheek at you stare at him. There’s a loving look in your eye, and it has Taehyung’s heart racing.

“I feel like I’ve been in a desert and you’re the oasis I’ve found after too long,” you say, laughing a little at your own analogy. Sweetly, you lean down to kiss him. You whisper against his lips.

“Are you okay?”

“More than,” he responds, leaning up to complete the kiss. However, when he parts his eyebrows pinch, and he soothes his hand over your spine. You watch him patiently, wondering what he’s thinking of. After a few seconds you’re rewarded.

“Tell me to stop,” he says, and you stare at him.

“Do you want to stop?”

“No, I…,” he shakes his head a little, both his hands moving to grip your ass. He uses his hold to grind you down against him, and you blush at feeling how aroused he’s gotten. You’d been trying not to think about it, but you’d been feeling pretty needy down there yourself…

“I really, really don’t want to stop, and that might be a problem,” he admits with a quiet laugh. You can tell he’s trying to be considerate of you while also battling with his urges. “I didn’t intend for it to happen like this and I totally understand if you want me to go. Just tell me to stop and I will, but…,” he leans up, his lips brushing against yours, and you can sense his hopelessness.

Your eyes soften and you cup his cheeks. “Tae,” you say, and a groan unintentionally sneaks past his lips when you grind down against him. “You don’t need to stop.”

You kiss him once more, feeling shy, yet wanton. You had never intended for this to happen either, but…more than anything you don’t want it to end. You want Taehyung in any way he’s willing to give.

“Oh thank god,” he breathes, momentarily releasing you as he pushes himself up. The shift in position now has you seated in his lap—your thighs on either side of him and your crotch dangerously close to his hard-on. However, Taehyung silences your frenzied thoughts with another kiss.

He kisses you languidly, his hands moving to your shoulders as he slowly peels your cardigan down your arms. You feel yourself flush, suddenly nervous as you realize that you’re more than likely about to get very intimate with one of your best friends from childhood. But…you glance at Taehyung—no longer a child—and the anxious feeling in your chest easies slightly. You’re no longer kids, and you’d both given your consent. There’s no reason to be so worried.

Feeling reassured, you kiss him once more, and pause when he suddenly begins moving his lips down your jaw. He peppers the skin of your jaw and neck with kisses, grinning when he once again locates the sensitive spot from before. You instinctively wiggle in his hold, gasping, and Taehyung nearly moans when you unintentionally grind against him.

Never in his life has he been so aroused before.

“You’re too cute,” he says, biting down, and the sound you make has his dick straining.

“I’m gonna kill you,” you respond, face beet red, but Taehyung doesn’t believe you one bit. Satisfied with the mark he’s left, Taehyung dips lower—kissing the skin on your chest. His fingers sneak beneath the hem of your shirt, ghosting up your spine and causing you to shiver. You arch into him, instinctively trying to escape the sensation, and Taehyung grins.

“You really are fun.”

As he fiddles with the clasps of your bra, you reach a hand behind him to smack his ass in retaliation. Taehyung only laughs though, a fond look in his eye. You feel your bra go slack, and Taehyung distracts you with a kiss as he attempts to finagle it out from beneath your shirt. Clearly he has some experience, because you don’t even need to help him.

“You’re an idiot,” you tell him, moaning against his lips when he moves his hand to grope you through your shirt. The soft mound of flesh weights pleasantly in Taehyung’s palm, and he gives it a gentle squeeze—feeling satisfied at the reaction he elicits.

Curiously, he allows his thumb to roam over your perk nipples, loving the way they harden even more thanks to his ministrations. Helpless—wanting him to explore you in any way he desires—you simply sit there and allow Taehyung to have his fun. However, he quickly becomes annoyed with the fabric in the way of what he really wants to see.

Gripping the edge of your shirt, he pulls upward and you obediently raise your arms, allowing him to shed you of your top. You feel self-conscious all over again as he stares at you—his gaze unabashed with his hunger. It’s not like you haven’t been intimate with other people before, but out of everyone, Taehyung definitely means the most to you.

“You’re so beautiful,” he ends up saying, his palm moving to splay against your breast as his mouth descends upon the other. If his words don’t make you blush than his actions certainly do.

Groaning in satisfaction, Taehyung allows his tongue to flatten against your nipple, loving the way you gasp and whine beneath him. He toys with the sensitive bud—sucking, and nipping until it’s perfectly taut. He then moves to give the other the same treatment, but pauses to glance at your face. The front of your hand is covering your mouth in embarrassment, cheeks and chest flushed in arousal. He can see the lust blooming in your gaze, and he moves a hand down to sooth against his cock through his pants. You notice and glance down, realizing that he must be uncomfortable.

“Here,” you say, feeling a little bold as you reach down and pop the button on his slacks. Taehyung’s eyes widen in surprise, but when you peel the zipper down and slip your hand into his boxers—rubbing his aching length—his eyes nearly roll into his head.

“Fuck,” he curses, taking your other breast into his mouth. He’s less gentle this time around—more teeth than tongue—his fingers digging into the flesh of your other tit as he grips it possessively. You gasp, not disliking the pain, and all of the sudden Taehyung swoops up to kiss you. He cradles your jaw, grinding his hips against your hand as you stroke him.

“I need this,” he says, a little breathless. “I need you. Please.”

“The bed would probably be more comfortable,” you respond between his frantic kisses, and he nods. Just as needy, you’re quick to stand up. You start towards the bedroom, glancing back to make sure Taehyung is following, and drool pools in your mouth when he see that he’s begun to strip.

He tugs off his jacket without care, dropping in on top of your own pile of clothes, and then quickly moves to shed his shirt. As a child he’d been quiet scrawny, but now he’s toned and broad, and you feel your pulse speed up.

Finally, Taehyung notices you’re staring, and a grin overtakes him.

“Like what you see?” he asks, teasing, and nearly dies when you nod with complete sincerity.

“A lot.”

Unable to hold himself back, Taehyung steps towards you and claims your lips once more. As he does so—slowly backing you into your room—you reach down and attempt to shuck his pants down his legs. He laughs at the futile effort.

“Needy?”

“Clearly not more than you,” you respond cheekily, eyeing his hard-on, which has begun to weep through the dark fabric of his boxer-briefs. Grabbing you by your ass, Taehyung dumps you onto the mattress and grins down at you.

“You’re saying I’m the only one turned on here?” He speaks boldly, confident that he’s right. Fully intending to prove his point, he curls his fingers beneath the band of your jeans and tugs them down your legs. You watch him with flushed cheeks, realizing how vulnerable you are, but you don’t care much about that right now. All you want is some type of relief.

“See…,” he mumbles to himself, two of his finger rubbing your womanhood through your panties. There’s a definitive pool of your arousal on the fabric. Curious, he moves the fabric aside and slowly pushes both of his fingers into you. There’s little resistance—your walls soaked for him.

“Tae,” you whine, gasping when he raises his other hand and places his thumb on your clit. He rubs gentle circles, his cock aching when he feels your pussy clench around his fingers.

“I told you,” he says, his voice deep. He begins fucking his fingers into you—his pace too lax to do anything except rile you up further. Your chest feels like it may burst.

“You’re right. I’m wet. Please—I need you to do something, Tae, anything--,” you beg. Taehyung glances up at you, a fire spreading in his veins when he sees the desperate look on your face. He never thought he’d see that kind of look on you—the look of a woman pleading to be pleasured—and it’s absolutely maddening.

“You want me to fuck you?” he asks, already reaching down to grab his cock. It’s so sensitive—he’s kept himself waiting too long, but—

“Yes, please. I need it,” you respond seriously, too needy to be bashful. Taehyung groans, stepping away from the mattress to shed himself of his underwear. You watch him with hunger in your eyes—tongue darting out to lick at your lips when his cock finally springs free.

It’s weeping for attention.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he says, returning to the mattress and positioning himself on top of you. He braces your leg with one hand and guides himself with the other. You feel your walls stretch as he seats himself inside of you—but the feeling isn’t uncomfortable in the least. Pussy throbbing, you reach up and grab him by his hair. Taehyung allows himself to be dragged down into your kiss—your noses knocking together as he slowly begins to fuck in and out of you.

He rocks his hips rhythmically, the motion becoming bigger and increasingly quick. You moan around his tongue, your fingers tugging at his roots, and Taehyung groans.

“Fuck,” he says, breathlessly pulling back for air. His face is flushed, brow beading with sweat as his need overwhelms him. He wants this so badly—with you. He’s never been surer of it. In this moment, he’s right where he’s supposed to be.

“Tae, you can move more, I’m--,” you struggle to say, your face equally as red. You grind your hips down to meet thrusts, and Taehyung shamelessly moans. His head drops, his cock thrusting into you faster and rougher. You gasp, one hand moving to grasp your tit as the other reaffirms its grip on his hair.

“Good?” he manages to question. You bite your lip, nodding frantically.

“Very. Don’t stop. Please.”

“Can’t,” he bites back, readjusting his angle and snapping his hips particularly hard. Unexpectedly, he hits your sweet spot and you gasp lewdly. Taehyung’s eyes shift up to you, and he grins a little.

“Right there, huh?” Reaching down, hooks his elbow under the crook of your knee and opens you up a little wider. The position leaves nothing to imagination.

“Fuck, Tae--!” you cry, breath catching when he once again locates your g-spot. Your pussy clenches around him—creating more friction—and his jaw tenses. Fuck, he’s not gonna last very long.

Attempting to keep up his pace, Taehyung thrusts into you with vigor. His eyes roam your body—shifting from the glistening folds of your pussy and the way his dick enters you so perfectly to the swell of your bouncing breasts and the fucked-out look in your glistening eyes.

You’re so flawless.

“Tae, I need--,” you struggle to speak, overwhelmed with a desperation to cum. Tears stick to your lashes, and Taehyung manages to lean down and kiss your cheek.

“Tell me what you want, love.”

“I want to cum, please,” you cry, reaching up to cradle his face. A tidal wave of emotions flood your chest. You feel so much love and adoration for the man making love to you that it’s nearly impossible to digest. Years of missed opportunities with him pangs your heart with regret, but you know that this is only the beginning. You’ve got lots of time.

“Please, I need you,” you beg quietly, your pussy throbbing as you pull him into a sweet, yet yearning kiss. Taehyung’s dick twitches inside of you, and he messily kisses you a second time.

“I’m right there.”

“Me too,” you assure him, wrapping your arms around his back. Your nails scrape against his skin, leaving little marks, and he shivers.

“Fuck.”

Gathering his remaining stamina, Taehyung fucks into you—smacking his hips lewdly against yours. You gasp with each thrust, skull straining back against the mattress. It’s all so intense, but so good as well. If only the two of you could stay like this forever.

“Taehyung,” you call his name, your voice hitching with every smack of his hips. For a man already on the edge, the fucked out quality of your voice is too much to handle, and Taehyung’s rhythm falters.

“Y/N,” he moans, and, unexpectedly, your name falling from his lips so needily is what pushes you to your release. Your body tenses, toes curling, and then all of the sudden the tension melts into bliss. Your pussy clenches around Taehyung’s length, and he almost chokes.

“Tae, cum,” you tell him, breathless with pleasure. You cup his face, eyes glazed over with adoration as you intently watch him. Taehyung is helpless to obey.

Fucking into you one last time, he fully sheathes himself between your walls and allows his bliss to find him. His shoulders drop, head coming to rest against your chest as he empties inside of you, and your fingers card through his hair soothingly.

Finally, when the pleasure has faded, Taehyung pulls out of you with a hiss—his dick overly sensitive.

For a long moment, the two of you can only stare at each other.

Long lost childhood friends, turned lovers in less than a day. So much had happened in such a short amount of time.

Your face breaks out into a smile, a laugh sneaking past your lips.

“What?” Taehyung asks, mimicking your smile. You shake your head, one hand raising to cover your face in an attempt to hide your blush.

“This is crazy,” you say, and Taehyung glances down at your naked bodies—glistening with sweat. Suddenly he realizes what you’ve done. His cheeks turn red, and he rolls to the side, landing on the mattress beside you. You glance over at him, watching his reaction carefully.

“Having second thoughts?” you tease, though anxiety rises in your chest. You feel more comfortable around him now more than ever. With your feelings for each other out in the open you can freely be with him in any way you’d like—ways you couldn’t have before. Admitting that you like him doesn’t feel so hard to do anymore.

“No,” Taehyung eventually responds, shifting to fully face you. He reaches his hands forward, gently cupping your jaw, and guides you into a kiss. His heart aches with the amount of love he feels for you. It’s an amount that threatens to overwhelm him, but he manages to hold it at bay.

Well, mostly.

“I love you,” he whispers against your lips, feeling the skin of your cheeks heat up beneath his fingers. Peeking open his eyes, Taehyung smiles when he sees you staring at him in shock.

“I know, it’s…soon. We just had an entire handful of our firsts together in the span of a few hours, but…I’ve always loved you. Even if it always hasn’t been romantic in nature. Though I assure you it is now, but,” he trails off, grinning when you smile and reach forward to lightly smack his chest.

After a second you pout your lips, hand moving to caress his cheek. Taehyung leans into your touch, and your gaze softens.

“I never expected to be in this situation, and it’s crazy to think that we’re here after being separated for a decade, but…I love you too,” you tell him, thumb brushing over his cheek. He smiles, turning his head so he can kiss your palm, and you laugh a little.

“If you promise to never yell at me again, then I’ll even consider being your girlfriend.”

“I said I was sorrryyyyyyy~,” he whines, rolling onto his other side. He kicks his feet indignantly, and you giggle. Scooting up behind him, you wrap your arms around his torso and pull yourself flush against his back—nose nuzzling between his shoulder blades. Beneath your fingertips, Taehyung’s heart beats steadily—happy, and placated.

“So? Do we have a deal?”

Taehyung chuckles, wiggling in your hold. You allow him some space as he flips around to face you, his arms reaching out to hold you tightly. Your head tucks under his chin, and he slots your legs together. Everything falls into place, fitting perfectly.

“Be mine,” he says, lips pressing against the top of your skull. You can hear the emotion in his voice. “Please. I never want you to leave again.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you promise him, tilting your head up and pursing your lips. Getting the idea, Taehyung happily bends down to meet you. Your lips are tingling when he pulls back.

Sated, and finally at peace with your feelings for each other, the two of you simply lay there in each other’s arms. After a short while, the exhaustion from your dirty deed sets in, and Taehyung yawns. You glance up at him tiredly through your lashes.

“You can stay, if you hadn’t figured,” you say, and he nods—a lazy smile pulling at his lips.

“Good.” He gives you a little squeeze, and your own eyes flutter shut. The warmth of Taehyung’s body washes over you like a blanket, and before long you’re out like a light.

In the morning, you wake up in each other’s arms…and to the blare of Taehyung’s ringtone.

“Shit!” he curses, tumbling out of your bed and into the other room, where he’d abandoned his phone. He manages to pick it up on the last ring, and you sit up groggily, eyes shifting over to the clock on your night stand.

6:30am.

“Taehyung!” you hear a semi-familiar voice as Taehyung puts the call on speaker. He sets the device down on your coffee table, plopping down on the couch behind him. Still half asleep, he rustles his messy hair.

“Yes, hyung?”

“I’m on my way to your apartment—you didn’t respond to my texts. Are you ready?”

“Ready?” he repeats, deep voice scratchy with unuse. Namjoon sighs.

“Did you forget we’re doing an early shoot for that magazine today?”

Taehyung’s eyes widen—the remnants of sleep disappearing from his face.

“Oh fuck. Uh…,” he glances over to you—now stood in the doorway to your bedroom wearing nothing but the shirt he’d been brandishing the day before. As you cutely rub at your eyes in an attempt to wake yourself up, Taehyung feels his heart soar and his dick throb.

“I’m actually…not at home, hyung,” he admits, and there’s a pause.

“Where are you, then?”

Taehyung smiles fondly as he speaks his next words. “I’m at my girlfriend’s place. I’ll send you the address—you can pick me up here.”

He glances over to you, eyes sparkling when he sees the blush that has spread across your cheeks.

“Girlfriend?!” Namjoon responds, obviously shocked. “What about Y/N??”

He’d been rooting for you two to reconcile and get together, after all!

“That’s who I’m talking about, hyung,” Taehyung responds with a laugh, wrapping an arm around you when you make your way over and plop down beside him.

“Hi, manager-nim~,” you chime in before Namjoon can think of how to respond. There’s a long stretch of silence, and for a second Taehyung thinks the call may have dropped, but—

“Y’all were really pinning for each other like fools for 15 YEARS, and ended up getting together in ONE DAY!” he yells, sounding exasperated. You and Taehyung glance at each other sheepishly. However, before either of you can think of what to say, Namjoon chuckles.

“That’s the kind of love I want in my life.”

Grinning, Taehyung turns to you and cups your cheeks—guiding you into a sweet kiss. Butterflies tickle your stomach, and you smile against his lips.

“Hyung, it’s only going to get better from here,” Taehyung responds seriously—kissing you again. His words have satisfaction settling deep in your bones.

You could really get used to this.

#please yell at me and tell me what you thought!#taehyung x reader #taehyung fluff #taehyung smut #taehyung angst #model!taehyung #model taehyung au #bts fic #bts smut #bts reader insert #reader x taehyung #i fucking hate tagging a million things but I wanna get my bases covered #bts fluff #namjoon #taehyung

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