#so at least by Monday i should sound terrible but feel better

[ainawgsd]

Guess who got a cold for Christmas!

Spoiler alert, it's me

[theprettynosferatu]

I

He was upset. His team had lost, and that meant the day was, by fiat, a Bad Day: it was a shared sort of communion among fans to ride the same wave of emotions every Monday, depending on the results of Sunday’s game. Usually it was a binary affair: good days after victory, bad days after defeat. Sometimes it was somewhat nuanced, and those days were tricky to him. Maybe it was a victory against a much worse team, or a defeat that nonetheless made the team look good. Sometimes anger was decreed against a ref, a coach or the team’s owners. In any case, that particular Monday the mood was, quite simply, bad.

He turned off the sports radio and got off his truck. Yes, Bad Day, no doubt about it. The kind of day that would have made his dad sulk and down a few cans of beer. He probably should buy a six-pack, he figured. 

It was then, as he filled up his truck, that a horrible thought came to him for the first time. He didn’t feel bad. No, that had to be wrong. All his friends felt bad. It was a Bad Day after a bad game. Of course he felt bad. Or tried to, at least. It all seemed… foggy. There was a veil somewhere inside him, obscuring his sight. Had he ever truly felt bad about sports? Or happy? Surely he must have. He watched the game every Sunday, did he not? He joined his fellow fans in the emotional rollercoaster of the season every year. It was part of being a man, of having that shared sense of belonging, not to mention something to talk about. Then why did he feel so… indifferent?

He caught a glimpse of his face in the rear view mirror. His goatee could use a trim. Then again, there was nothing wrong with looking a bit scruffy. He was a working man, after all. Rugged. He wasn’t sure if he was handsome or not, but he knew he wasn’t supposed to care, or at least he was supposed to act as if he didn’t. His friends didn’t call themselves handsome or ugly. They just… were. So that was all he intended to do. 

Was “just being” so hard for everyone?

He was being a little bitch, trying to chase his own tail in some weird psychology spiral. Snap out of this bullshit, he told himself before climbing back on the truck. The sports radio made him feel a bit better, because listening to fellow fans he felt something like sadness.

There it was. The Bad Day. Thank God. He was a fan. He was normal. He could leave all the twisted crap behind.

But he never did. That day, in that gas station, a beam of light had started filtering through a crack, and it would not be denied.   

II

When a dam breaks, it seems to be an instant phenomenon, with a sound like thunder and a river washing away everything in its path. This is, of course, an illusion. A damn breaks over the course of months, even years. It starts breaking in small fissures, in abnormal readings on equipment, in miniscule signs of surrender to the terrible pressure it tries to hold back. All things that are easy to ignore, easy to brush off. 

His own mental dam groaned with what he had come to see as “weird moments”.

They came in many forms. Sometimes, perhaps twice a year, he would jump scared at the image of a stranger in his apartment, before realizing he was looking at a mirror. It usually took him around a minute to reconcile the figure before him with himself, to align the stranger in the glass with the notion that it was, in fact, himself. A weird moment, easy to brush off. Other times the weird moments came in dreams: strange landscapes full of mannequins wearing dresses of all colors; a cute nervous laughter at a bar, coming from his own mouth; a sense of peace, of everything being right in the world as he tried on a pair of panties. He left these dreams with an uneasy feeling, not because they were scary, but because it was terrifying how… right they felt. But he reminded himself of the simple fact that dreams were not reality and moved on with his day. Easy to ignore. Just weird moments.

He let his goatee grow longer. He didn’t particularly like it, but he felt he had to. He started mixing in whiskey with his usual intake of beer, despite the fact he found its taste foul. He didn’t go out chasing pussy, and that fact weighed on him immensely. Some of his friends spoke of their conquests, even married ones. Others called the first group pigs, but somehow the insult came with a hint of admiration, he suspected. Not all men were pigs, of course. But picking up some chick every now and then… that would make him feel better, right? Give him something to boast about. And yet, he could never bring himself to actually do it. He felt small. Weak. He drank more in those days.

It was during one drinking binge that the weirdest of the weird moments happened. Half asleep, most drunk, he started visualizing himself at a bar… no, not a bar, he decided. A coffee shop. Why not a bar? He couldn’t tell. He imagined himself striking up a conversation with a blonde bombshell with legs like- no, not blonde. Redhead. And not a bombshell, either. More… pretty but a bit shy. Alluring, in her own understated way. Deep, beautiful eyes that spoke of a quiet intelligence. He saw himself almost mid conversation with her.

“Hayley. My name is Hayley.”

He wanted to get to know her. It didn’t feel like a pick-up. It felt like… a conversation.

“Happy? I don’t know. I think so? Maybe?”, he saw himself saying in reply to a question he never actually heard. 

Hayley blushed and had a hard time finding words.

“I- I think everyone deserves to be happy, you know? It’s like… sure, there are bad people, but… maybe I’m naive. I don’t know. I just think everyone deserves to find whatever it is that makes them happy. And that can be hard work! Figuring out what happiness looks like, I mean. A lot of people put so much effort into stuff that they think will make them happy but it won’t so they rush over to the next thing and the next thing and they get so angry and… I'm sorry, I’m rambling! But… maybe happiness isn’t so… big, you know? Maybe it’s something simple”

“Like what?”

“Truth, maybe? I don’t know. Don’t you ever feel like… Oh, nevermind me. I’m rambling again”

“No. You aren’t”

“I’m happy you think so! I don’t even know my own head sometimes. I feel… trapped, I guess. Like something went wrong somewhere, you know? Like things aren’t what they should be. Like happiness is there, just across a thin pane of glass… but I can’t reach it. Does that make any sense?”

It did.

“I’m not sure”, he said.

“Well, neither am I. But I do feel better talking with you. Don’t you get the feeling like we know each other from somewhere? Like… this is familiar, isn’t it? You don’t feel like a stranger that came to talk to me at a coffee shop. You feel like… a friend? No, it’s not that. It’s something else”

“Not a lover”

She blushed.

“No. Not a lover either. So sorry! That was so rude of me!”

“It’s not. I said it first”

“Not family, not friends, not lovers… what’s, like, closer than all those things?”

“I don’t know”

He opened his eyes. There were weird moments and weirder moments, and then there was whatever he had dreamt up. She felt so real… unsettlingly so.

Hayley. She said she was called Hayley.

III

“Normal” is a relative term, and therefore so are deviations from its iron-clad grip. He wondered if a weird moment could be called a moment if it never ceased, or if it continued being weird if there was no longer anything to compare it to.

Every night he dreamed of Hayley. It was rather particular in that he didn’t seem to be a part of his own dreams. He looked out from somewhere behind her eyes. He looked at her life, a life that didn't exist. He saw an entire history, her childhood and adolescence, her fears and hopes, her shy, demure allure as she started dating, her sad nights after bad encounters, her joy after meeting a good guy, a cute guy… her heartbreak as they both realized they weren’t good for each other. Hayley liked to read, mainly nonfiction. She liked movies. She enjoyed many things, and he wasn’t sure he truly enjoyed anything in the way Hayley did. Every night Hayley felt more real, and every morning he felt less and less solid. His waking hours seemed less… fully realized than his dreams.

And then there was the spillover. That was the only way he could conceptualize it. Every now and then he found himself brushing long red hair from his face, only to realize he didn’t have long hair at all, much less the beautiful, copper-red hair his hand tried to move out of the way. He laughed sometimes, a tinkle of a laugh like a clear bell, extinguished by the stunned looks of his friends. It wasn’t his laugh escaping his mouth. It was hers. He cleared his throat and made his voice deeper than usual, lest his friends believe he was anything but one hundred percent man.

It was alarming, sure. But he didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. His father often said most aches and pains just went away by themselves, especially when he had suggested seeing a doctor as a child. Maybe this would go away by itself, he figured, trying not to remember that when he had asked for a doctor it had been appendicitis and he had ended up having emergency surgery. No, this wasn’t like that. It would surely get better.

It didn’t get better.

The first phenomenon that truly scared him were the blackouts. They weren’t like drinking blackouts, which he felt were good and normal and manly: they came at any time of the day, regardless of his drinking, and when he came to he found himself listening to music he had never heard, a brand new playlist on his phone; he found himself in front of a store, looking through glass at cute dresses on display; he found himself inside quaint bookstores, holding some weird book or another. His main concern was his work: what if he had one of those episodes while driving his truck? It could be dangerous, but more importantly, impossible to hide from his peers. Maybe he should see a doctor, but that reeked of weakness. He could handle this, whatever it was.

He felt as if a strong wind was sanding him down, like a rock being molded over millennia, only in fast motion. Time was starting to get harder to pin down, to measure. Maybe he was having more blackouts than he realized.

And every night he stopped being himself and Hayley lived her life in his dreams, a realm she had conquered utterly.

There was a part of him, a tiny part, that every now and then had to admit there was something cozy about his situation. He didn’t feel alone anymore. He knew Hayley, knew her better than he had ever known anyone else, could almost hear what she would say in any situation, how she would feel, what she would think. He enjoyed having conversations with her in his head: even if he couldn’t hear her, he could guess every reply, every laugh, every small inflection of her voice.

What did it matter if sometimes he couldn’t tell if he was thinking or he was thinking what she would think? What did it matter if sometimes his replies felt more like hers than his own? He could control it. He could make sure his friends didn’t notice. He could drink more so those moments would be chalked up to his drunkenness. He could do it. Hayley could be his secret.

“She don’t look like it, but I tell you, she has some primo ass under that uniform. That gym bunny, hard as steel badonkadonk. I can tell, man. And tiny girls are fucking fierce in the sack”

“No way. No way. How’s she gonna work out if she works all day at this diner, dude? I’ll bet you she’s flat like an ironing board under them pants. I mean, she’s pretty and all but she ain’t no bombshell”

“Listen jackass, you said it yourself. She works all day here, so she eats here, right? Does she look even a tiny bit fat? Fuck no, she doesn’t. Look at your fries, man! Dripping greasy! Do you think she can eat this place’s food and not get fat without working out? Hell no. She’s taking the food and turning it into one hundred percent, knock-your-teeth-out firm ass. Bet my life on it” 

“Full of shit, this guy. What do you think?”

His friends looked at him.

“A woman like a violet. Discreet. Simple. Yet she fills the valley with her perfume”, he mumbled.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“It’s from Valley Flower. A book”, he said.

“Look at this guy! Did you really read a book called Valley Flower?”

He hadn’t. He was sure he hadn’t. Cold sweat slid down his back. He had never heard of that book. Was it even a real book? He had to know. 

He held the book in his hands, shaking. Valley Flower.

“Oh, gifting it to someone?”, said the bookshop owner.

“I… sorry. Gifting it?”

“Well, yes. I mean, you already have one”

“What do you mean?”

“Sir, are you okay?”

“Yes. Yes, I’m okay. How do you know if… if I have this book?”

“Sir… you bought it from me last month”

To be continued...

Did you enjoy this story? You can support my work at patreon.com/prettynosferatu

[alittlebitofeverythingtbh]

Every Breath You Take

Corey Cunningham x fem!reader

Warnings: smut, 18+, stalking, some violence, protective Corey

Authors Note: I will never not take the opportunity to write protective Corey.

Your concussion finally wore off a couple days later, and you returned to work once it did. Turns out everyone at your job was frazzled and busy while you were gone. The office space you worked as a secretary in was never this busy, so you weren’t sure what was going on. “Hey, what’s with all the commotion?” you asked your coworker Jared, who was filing documents on his work computer. The blonde turned to you, “we’ve got some higher ups coming in tomorrow, so everyone’s trying to get everything done before they do.” “Ah, figures,” you said before moving to put your earbuds back in.

“Hey, are you okay?” Jared asked before you could, “you were out for a couple days.” “I slipped and hit my head so bad I got a concussion,” you lied, “I stayed at home until it wore off.” “Ouch,” he commented, “had that happen to me once. Glad to see you’re better at least!” He flashed you a kind smile before turning back to his computer. You put your earbuds in as you turned back to your own filing, eyes darting to the small clock on the taskbar every once in a while. Work wasn’t bad or anything, but it did get boring at times. You just wanted to go home and watch movies with Corey.

You filed various files on your computer until it was finally time to go home. You grabbed your various belongings, shoving them into the book bag you brought with you. Making sure your phone was in your pocket, you got up to leave. Jared was throwing some pens into his briefcase before he ran to catch up with you outside the office. “Hey, are you free tomorrow? I was wondering if you wanted to go get sandwiches at Earl’s Café? It’s a new place downtown,” he asked. You shook your head politely, “nah, can’t I’m afraid. I’ve got to go grocery shopping and what not. Sorry.” “Oh it’s okay, maybe Monday then?” he pushed.

You looked around in the dark, searching for your boyfriend, “can’t, I’ve got plans for most of Monday.” “Oh come on,” Jared said, sounding a bit annoyed now, “you’ve got no free time or something?” “Jared, I just- I get the feeling you’re trying to ask me out.” He looked bewildered, “of course I am. Was that not obvious?”

“I have a boyfriend,” you said, bringing your bag closer to yourself. “Oh, I see,” Jared said, the look on his face unreadable, “well, it doesn’t have to be a romantic date. Could just be two coworkers hanging out.” “And the whole time I’d be thinking about how you tried asking me out,” you grumbled, silently begging for Corey to show up already.

“Sheesh, did that concussion give you an attitude?” Jared asked. You were pissed, but you weren’t gonna show it. Instead you said, “maybe. I should really go home, my head hurts.” “I can drive you home,” he offered, “least I can do since I clearly offended you.”

You didn’t turn to look at him, but you said, “for fucks sake, Jared. When a girl says no, it means no. It doesn’t mean keep pushing until she finally says yes.” You were met with silence as you let out an annoyed sigh. You kept looking at the road, waiting for that distinct motorcycle sound. You glanced at your phone, checking the time. It was almost eleven, where was he?

You turned to Jared, only to be met with an empty sidewalk. He was nowhere to be found, and you felt a chill down your spine. You looked around, but didn’t see anyone. You sighed, deciding to walk home. Maybe Corey got held up by something? Probably that mom of his, you thought bitterly. One day, you’d get him away from her. You felt pretty terrible for Corey all the times you had met her. She disliked you quite a bit, stating you weren’t good enough for Corey. This always made your boyfriend extremely uncomfortable, and the two of you would often leave before dinner was even over.

You walked home, no longer playing music from your earbuds. It wasn’t safe, though you really did have the urge to listen to some Muse on your walk. You instead listened to the crunch of leaves under your shoes, or the distant sounds of TVs in homes. A breeze blew the leaves around you, scattering them everywhere. One was left clinging to your coat, which you brushed off.

You were halfway home when you heard a leaf crunch behind you. You stiffened, wishing you had a pocket knife like Corey did. Instead, you kept walking, pretending as if you hadn’t heard it. Whoever it was either was gone or far better at masking their footsteps. Your hand rested in the pocket of your coat, phone at the ready.

“You really should be careful of leaves,” you said aloud, “they’re pretty noisy.” It was a ballsy move to speak, but you wanted authority in the situation. Unsurprisingly, there was no response. You turned around to find an empty sidewalk behind you. No one was there. You shivered again, continuing your walk home.

It wasn’t until you crossed the street that you saw him. You couldn’t make out any details in the dark, but you immediately assumed it had to be Corey based off of his height. Michael was far too tall and recognizable, at least you thought. Then again, you had only really seen him that one time. You hoped your next meeting wasn’t anytime soon.

You kept an eye on the figure in the corner of your eye as you continued to walk home. Once you neared your house, you pulled out your keys and stepped up to your porch. You turned to see if the figure was still there, but he wasn’t. You had a feeling he was already inside.

You stepped into your dark house, closing the door and locking it. You felt your way in the dark for the light switch before a hand grabbed your arm. You yelped as you were shoved into the wall, a leg in between yours. You felt the man’s breath in your ear and the tenseness dropped. “Corey,” you whispered. He said nothing for a moment, just keeping you against the wall.

“What was that guy saying to you?” Corey asked after a minute. “He-he was trying to ask me out. I rejected him many times,” you replied, reaching out and touching his head soothingly. His hand went and grabbed yours, just holding it, “he was harassing you, wasn’t he?” You nodded before realizing he might not be able to see, “yeah, he was.” Corey growled, “then I don’t need to be beating myself up, huh?” “What do you mean?” you asked. You moved out from underneath him, searching for the light switch. You found it and flicked it on, gasping in horror.

Corey was wearing a recently bloodied mechanic suit, his hands and the knife he held covered in the same blood. He had a dark look in his eyes that told you enough. “Corey-“ you started. He pushed you back against the wall gentler this time, “I had to, baby. I was coming to pick you up, to walk you home, and I heard him talking to you. Didn’t hear all what he said, but I could tell you were uncomfortable. And then he sounded angry, and then you were angry. Which made me angry. And I just-“ He sighed, cutting himself off. “You can’t keep killing people like this Core,” you said softly. “I can’t let you keep getting harassed like that,” he said defensively, “it makes me angry. Makes me feel like I need to protect you all the time. I don’t…I don’t want this town to treat you like they treat me. But it’s worse because…” “Because I’m a girl?” you asked. He nodded, his eyes looking a little sad.

You held his face gently, feeling him lean into your touch. You wanted to tell him to stop killing, to stop all of this. But he wasn’t wrong. You were tired of being harassed, and you had tried standing up for yourself so many times. It was sweet in its own sadistic way to have someone who could make all of it go away, a shadow that protected you wherever you went. Someone who uses one hand to hold yours and the other to hold a knife, threatening anyone who stepped too close.

“Thank you,” you whispered quietly, “thank you for protecting me.” “I’ll always protect you,” Corey promised, “I’ll always be there to make sure that you’re okay. That you’re safe.” You leaned forward and kissed him softly. He kissed you back, the knife clattering to the floor as he moved to pull you closer to him. You made a mental note to wash your clothes later, knowing Corey had already gotten blood onto them.

He pushed you against the wall further, starting to grind against you as the kiss got more intense. Corey let out a growl when he heard the first whimper you let out. He was soon reaching down and pulling down your leggings quickly, slipping past your underwear to start rubbing at your clit. “So good for me,” he whispered into your ear, “so good. So beautiful.” You whined as you felt yourself get wetter, his praise making your head feel fuzzy.

You felt his mouth at your neck, leaving kisses and marks behind that you would have to hide tomorrow. Corey’s two fingers slipped into you, wasting no time to start thrusting in and out of you. You bucked against his hand, “Corey-“ “Such a good girl,” he continued his praise, “so good for me. Wanna make you feel good.” You fingers curled inside you, causing you to moan loudly. He kept his relentless pace for a moment, watching your face contort in pleasure. Corey leaned forward and kissed you again, drowning your moans and whines. You clutched at his curls with one hand while the other laid against his chest.

He pulled away, panting after not having taken a breath in his desperation to kiss you. You could already feel your first orgasm coming, and you clenched around his fingers. “Such a good girl,” he groaned, “you gonna cum for me?” You whined and nodded. “Fuck,” Corey cursed, “that’s it baby, that’s it. Need you to cum for me, okay? Just cum all over my fingers. Wanna make you feel so good. You deserve it, deserve everything good.” His fingers curled one last time before you were sent over the edge, crying out his name as you spasmed underneath him. Once you came down from your high, he pulled his fingers out before sucking at them, letting out a small moan at your taste.

“Can’t wait anymore,” Corey whispered, pulling down the zipper to his bloodied mechanic suit, “need to take care of you so bad.” He lined himself up against you, taking a moment to make sure you were ready before he pushed in. The stretch of his cock inside you would never fail to amaze you at how good it felt, and you whined out his name. Corey cursed under his breath, beginning to thrust into you slowly. He wanted to take his time with you, to show you how good he could make you feel. Tonight was all about you.

Jared was dragged into an alleyway, a hand stifling his screams. “Ever heard of no?” Corey asked, “you’re really pathetic, talking to that girl like that.” Jared whimpered under his hand, shivering in fear. Corey scoffed, “you make me sick.” He dragged his knife along Jared’s side, cutting just enough to hurt. No, not to kill. Not yet. Corey grinned wildly at the shaking man, “I’m gonna show you what happens to men like you, men who think they can harass a girl just cause she’s pretty.”

He moved his hand down, rubbing circles over your clit as he thrusted inside you again. You clenched around him as you felt his fingertips on you, bucking against him in the attempt to make him move faster. Corey growled, picking up the pace at your urging. “You look so good like this,” he said, “so pretty. And all mine. My pretty girl. My good girl.” He was in the mood to praise you until he ran out of things to say. Was it because he was jealous? He knew you would never have accepted the date offered by your coworker, but there was still a need to remind you that it was him that got you like this. Corey had half a mind to fuck you into your bed, folding your legs and using you over and over. Maybe another night, he thought.

Tonight, he would be a bit more gentle. He would show you how much he adored you, and how good you deserved to feel.

“Such a good girl,” he praised again, “my girl. My love. My everything.” You felt like crying at that, “and you’re my everything.” Corey smiled down at you, a genuine smile of the purest joy. He kissed you again, whispering, “I love you so much.” “I love you too,” you whispered back against his mouth. His thumb started rubbing you faster as he sped up his thrusts, knowing he wouldn’t last much longer like this. “Feel so good,” he moaned, “you feel so good around me.” “Corey,” you whined, “I’m close.” “Me too,” he whimpered, “I’m so close, too.” His thumb pressed and rubbed harder, desperate to make you cum before he did. Finally, he hit that spot that sent you over the edge, and you came with a whimper of his name. Corey came just seconds after, panting your name as he spilled inside of you.

The two of you leaned against the wall, holding each other gently. You could already feel the exhaustion of your day at work and your session with Corey finally hitting you. You yawned, signaling Corey that you were tired. He gently picked you up and carried you to your bedroom. He washed his hands in your bathroom after, making sure no blood was left behind. After you changed into one of his shirts you had stolen, he took your bloody clothes and threw them in your washer as well as his mechanic suit. The shirt he wore underneath was clean enough, and he settled down into your bed. You laid beside him, smiling as he pulled you in to cuddle. Corey’s soft breathing lulled you to sleep, and soon yours would cause him to drift off as well.

[hxseok-honee]

sundress || part 23

written portion under the cut!

sundress [part 23] || say it back

previous || masterlist || next

a/n : [you always end up stickin’ to me // somehow, somehow] stuck with me x the neighbourhood

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Wednesday, 01 December, 7:16pm

“How’d you get in?” Y/n’s standing in the doorway to her bedroom, peeking her head out and seeing that Yoongi’s almost at the top of the stairs. He’d texted her that he was here, but by the time she’d found her slippers, he was already inside Gryffindor Tower.

“Some first year let me in… I think he was scared shitless by the fact that I’m a Slytherin and on the brink of death.” He’s not wrong -- the closer Yoongi gets to her door, the more she can tell how out of it he is. He looks pale, dark circles sitting under his eyes like bruises. Dragging his feet, he’s holding back a yawn as he finally comes to a stop in front of her.

“You studied hard today.” It’s a simple observation, made mostly on the basis of how heavy his bag looks, filled with textbooks and notes he’d probably had to beg Jin for. Yoongi only nods, finally letting out the yawn he’s been fighting.

“Who knew you actually had to do work in order to pass your classes?” He gets like this every finals season, cramming and pulling all-nighters to make up for his absolute hatred of consistent studying. Y/n had long stopped scolding him for it, only leaving him to sleep undisturbed for the first few days of winter break once all the exams were over.

With a smile of comfort, Y/n reaches for him, taking one of his hands in both of hers and pulling him with her into her room. Before he can step fully inside, however, he’s putting his other hand on the door frame to stop himself, shaking his head. She shoots him a look of confusion.

“You’re not coming in?”

He shakes his head again, stepping back to stand safely outside in the little corridor. Y/n moves toward him, confusion written all over her face. Yoongi grins fondly at her.

“It’s better if I don’t.” Y/n knows what he’s trying to say -- that he’ll only distract her from studying and would rather leave her to do her work in peace. She appreciates how considerate he’s being, but it doesn’t mean she’s not a little disgruntled.

“But you came in last night.”

“Yeah, I did. And this morning you were scrambling to do last minute review.”

“I would have done that whether or not you’d stayed.” She’s lying, and they both know it. Yoongi’s well-aware of Y/n’s meticulously planned study schedule. He knows how flustered she gets when she doesn’t stick to it, but he’d been unable to resist her invitation to stay the night after a whole day of cramming for his own exams. He’d missed her so much yesterday -- just as much as the day before and just as much as today -- so he’d given in, thinking of nothing but being able to hold her while he slept.

But when he’d seen how crazed she’d been this morning, pacing her room frantically while she’d tried to absorb the information in her notes, he couldn’t help but feel guilty that she’d stopped studying last night to come to bed. So he’d spent the day building his mental strength, reminding himself again and again that he couldn’t say yes to her tonight. No matter how much he wants to.

“I promised myself I’d let you study.”

Y/n pouts when he says it, and it takes all of Yoongi’s self-control not to step into her room and agree to stay the night again, if only to put a smile on her face.

“But I finished all the important finals today. Yesterday was my Herbology thing, and today I had Transfiguration, and those were the hardest ones. I just have Potions tomorrow, which won’t be too bad -- and we have Charms on Friday, so we have to study for it together, anyway!” She’s searching for excuses at this point -- they’d already agreed to study for Charms tomorrow night, so there’s no reason Yoongi won’t see right through her flimsy arguments. But she can’t help wanting to keep him here.

Even though she’d admittedly been a bit stressed this morning about her exam, all day she’d only regretted not being able to stay in bed with him longer. He’d looked so pretty sleeping peacefully in her bed and equally pretty when he’d woken up confused and frazzled that she was across the room instead of next to him. If she’s honest, he’s all she’s thought about today.

Yoongi tilts his head and eyes her while she tries to come up with a reason for him to stay, his chest swelling in endearment.

“The last two days, you were totally fine and I was the mess -- what’s up with you? Did you miss me or something?”

She nods right away, not even bothering to hide it anymore.

“Yeah, I did -- so you should stay.” She feels her face warm when Yoongi snickers, clearly amused by how forward she’s being.

“You know I can’t — but I’ll stay tomorrow night when we study. How’s that?”

Y/n sighs, nodding because she knows he’s right, that she won’t finish studying tonight if he walks through that door. But then she shoots him a look, because he’d walked all the way up the stairs from the library to her room just to not stay, and Min Yoongi is fundamentally opposed to unnecessary physical exercise.

“Why’d you come all the way up here, then? Just to say hi?”

Yoongi snorts, nodding as he steps in close to her.

“To say hi… and to get this.” Leaning in, he sets his lips on hers, inhaling deeply because he’d really needed this today. When she snakes her arms up and around his neck, he smiles, only angling his head to fit his mouth against hers more comfortably.

It takes him a minute, but he finally pulls away, only going so far that his lips are still brushing against hers when he speaks to her, almost breathless.

“Yeah… that’s definitely what I came up here for…”

Y/n smiles, rolling her eyes fondly at him.

“You walked up all those stairs for a kiss?”

“It was one hell of a kiss — I feel like I can keep studying now.” Yoongi can’t help the bubble of laughter that escapes his chest when she leans her head forward on his shoulder and sighs, a quiet giggle slipping out.

“You’re an idiot.” He’s heard that line a million times, more often in the months they’d been pretending to date. But it warms him every time, because he knows she only says it when he’s making her smile against her will. When she can’t help but adore him. He’s quite fond of those three words, if he’s honest.

“I should go… you have to finish studying and get some sleep.”

Y/n lifts her head, frowning slightly. Yoongi leans in quickly, catching her lips just as she’s parting them to complain again. He kisses her once, and then again when she still looks like she has something to say. She opens her mouth one more time, but he can see that she wants to smile, so he knows she’s only pretending so she can get another kiss out of him. He gives her one anyway.

And then he steps back, prying her arms gently from around his neck and putting some distance between them — he can feel his willpower slipping away and he knows he needs to leave now before he ends up not leaving at all.

“I love you.” It comes out with the same tone he’d use to say goodbye, because he’s already backing away toward the stairs, but he’s waiting for a response before he fully turns and leaves. Y/n only leans against her door frame, watching him, so he stops. He refuses to leave until she repeats it back to him, something she’s clearly aware of, if the smirk on her face is anything to go by.

“Say it back, asshole.” He sounds so affronted that she can’t help but throw her head back and laugh, entirely amused by him. When she looks at him again, she sees that he’s feeling the exact opposite, a deadpan expression on his face while he waits.

She opens her mouth to echo the words back to him, because she’s not so terrible as to leave him hanging forever, but then she’s pausing. Because Hoseok’s words from Monday night are suddenly flashing through her mind.

Maybe you’re… actually attracted to him?

Y/n looks Yoongi over, taking in everything about him all at once — the way he’s standing, running his fingers through his hair while he shifts his weight back and forth on his legs. The way he runs two fingers over his collarbones, which he only does when he feels awkward. The way she can see the black ink of her name peeking through the white fabric of his uniform. The way his lips are just swollen enough from kissing her that she feels proud to have been the one to do that to him.

The way he’s looking at her right now, eyes full of bemusement because he’s wondering what she’s thinking about. He’s waiting patiently, because he really isn’t going to leave until she says it back to him. He never does. Just like he’s never left anything unfinished between them, always making certain, even if nothing else in their lives is going right, that at least they’re doing okay.

So, while she’s not quite sure what the difference between adoration and attraction is when it comes to Min Yoongi — while she’s not sure about Hobi’s speculation, that what she’s feeling is anything more than just the affection she’s always had for this boy in front of her — she is sure of one thing.

“Yeah… I love you, too…”

[greenygreenland]

What I'd Do For You:

-imagine Roy as your adoptive father

-he'd be so flawed but he'd try his hardest

-I write for females because that's what I'm most comfortable with, but it's not too prominent (please don't be offended! It's only what I'm comfortable with!)

Summary: You're feeling down. Roy's here to help.

Today was nothing short of a bad day. It poured as soon as you stepped out of the house, and before you could grab your umbrella, you realised you were going to be late. Not long after, you ran straight into Ed and Al, who both ignored you in favour of chasing some guy down the street.

Whatever, you told yourself. Not like I needed a 'hi' from my best friends anyway.

Not long after, a car zoomed by and splashed muddy water at you. If it weren't for the rain, you'd be caked in the stuff. As you continued down the street, some guy thought it would be fun to mug you. Of course, when he found out you were a state alchemist, he made a run for it. But that didn't make you feel better, not when there were people staring at you like you were a nuisance.

What did you ever do to them anyway? Maybe it was just the fact today was a terrible Monday afternoon.

When you got to Roy's office, your clothes were sopping wet, your hair a matted mess, and your heart, very much hardened and cold. You softly closed the door behind you. There was no point in slamming it when you didn't have the energy to be angry in the first place.

"(Y/n)?" Roy stared at you incredulously. "What happened to you?" You pointed to the window.. The pouring rain and gray clouds were enough of an answer. "Everything happened, that's what." He raised a brow with a short sigh. "'Everything' is quite vague, don't you think?" He stood and made his way to a cabinet. From seemingly nowhere, he found a towel and threw it at you.

"Thanks Roy." You ran it through your hair and placed it on the couch to sit on. It was just as wet as your clothes, but it wasn't like anyone had a blow dryer on hand. Roy took a seat across from you on the opposing couch. "Care to tell me what happened today?"

You thought back to the Elric brothers, then the mugging and everything else you had to go through today. Roy listened intently. "Why did you leave the house so late?" he inquired. "You could have been here at eight o'clock sharp if you hadn't been up all night reading. Then you could have avoided that mugger, the rain, and everything in between." You huffed. "So what? Changing one thing wouldn’t change the day. And besides, it was a good book. What else was I supposed to do?"

"Put it down." Roy plainly offered. "Save that 'last page' for tomorrow, or better yet, sleep before three in the morning." You didn't like the way he was looking at you, as if he were deciding on whether he should be disappointed, frustrated, or annoyed with you. But bad habits died hard. It wasn't easy to break out of those cycles.

You leaned back into the couch. Defeat crossed your eyes, and that was when Roy realized how tired you looked. It wasn't because of your constant travels, or the fact that Edward and Alphonse ignored you completely (he'd give them a piece of his mind later on), but because you were burnt out.

And maybe feeling a bit down.

"You've been studying a lot." Roy stated. You didn't need him to point out the obvious. It was no secret you were doing your best to help the Elric brothers on their journey towards finding their bodies. "Have you found anything useful?" You shook your head with a tight frown. There was so much you needed to work out, so many variables that didn't add up, and so many frauds you needed to uncover.

"Whenever we're close," you mumbled, "our goal keeps getting farther away. Sometimes I feel so useless while Ed and Al go off on their own accord. I just...I don't know." Your shoulders slumped and Roy's heart began to ache. "It's so hard, and I'm really..." A sigh escaped your lips.

"Tired?" Roy finished. He knew that look well, the one where your eyes darkened with clouds and you looked like you wanted to scream when you couldn't. Long ago, he had the same look. Silently, he swore he'd never do it again. At least, not when you were around.

Seeing that same look on your face made him sick to the stomach. "Take a day off," he started. "The Lieutenant is here so don't worry. As for the Elric brothers, I don't think they'll need your help now. They’re fine as is if you ask me." Roy winced at his words. He didn't mean to make it sound like you were unwanted. In fact, he wouldn't do that even if he was paid.

"Maybe I'm not needed by them anymore.” you concluded. “They're busy anyway, so they won't miss me. It’s been weeks since we last talked actually. And besides, Ed’s really great at everything he does. Same with Al. They’re skilled, smart, everything I’m not." You smiled and it was a bit watery.

Roy's lips parted. No, no, no, that wasn't what he meant. The urge to punch himself in the face was overwhelming. Why was he so bad at wording things?

You stood and folded the wet towel. "I'll take the day off. I'm not sure what I'll do though."

"Wait--"

"If you need me, I'll be around the block somewhere." You looked like you were about to cry, and all Roy could do was watch. He wanted to say something, but what if he made it worse? Saying 'Don't cry!' wasn't exactly comforting, and by the looks of it, you weren't in the mood to talk anything through.

A forced smile made its way to your lips. "I'll be back later Roy."

And just like that, you were gone. The door closed shut with a small click, leaving Roy alone in the quiet office. He stared at the phone on his desk tensely. Hughes was good with people, and he knew how to talk to (Y/n) better than most. If Roy called then maybe...

No. Why should he have to rely on Maes? This was (Y/n). He could deal with his daughter just fine. "Teenagers." He found himself making his way to the phone "Why are they so hard to understand?” The familiar beeping sounded on the other end as he dialed the number.

“Hello, could you connect me to Maes Hughes?”

-----

The lone bench you took refuge on was lonely. But you were fine with that. Here, no one could see you through all the pouring rain and darkened clouds. As your tears mixed in with the cold droplets, you stared into the far off distance. The trees swayed in the occasional breeze and you shivered.

Maybe you should have brought a coat.

Suddenly, the rain stopped pounding against your head. Your dampened hair had rivers flowing down it, and the tears that quietly came to a stop left your cheeks with stains.

“So this is where you’ve been,” a voice calmly said. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was. Why, after an hour, did he come looking for you in the rain? It wasn’t like it mattered. Roy settled by your side, the umbrella hovering above. “Here,” he handed you your coat, “you’re shivering.”

You pushed the coat away with a shake of your head. “I don’t need it.” There was a crack in your voice you covered with a cough. If Roy noticed or not, he didn’t show it. Instead, he helped you put on the coat. “It would be inconvenient if you were sick,” he decided. “How are you supposed to help the Elrics with a cold?”

That didn’t matter. The Elrics were busy for all you cared, and it wasn’t like they needed you anyway. “I’m dead weight, dad.” The words made your eyes sting again. “They don’t-t-they don’t need me.”

“And why is that?” Roy’s gentle tone made the tears fall fast. “Because, dad, I’m useless. Edward’s so much better at everything. He--he’s always saving the day and figuring out all of this country’s problem’s. And...and when I try to help, I always mess it up.”

You thought back to earlier today, where you bumped into the boys spontaneously. They might’ve been busy, but they blatantly ignored you. And the fact that they hadn’t called all week made you worry. Had you done something wrong? No, maybe they didn’t care for you anymore because you were so useless.

“I...I don’t know what to do.” With the umbrella over your head, Roy saw every tear as clear as day. He watched your shoulders tense and your fists clench into tight fists. You were trying to stop crying, but the tears kept coming and coming like a river.

How useless of you.

“Come here.” You didn't want Roy to see your face. “Come here,” he repeated. You hesitantly scooted closer to him on the soaking bench. He held the umbrella in his left hand and pulled you close with his other. When was the last time he actually hugged you like this? He couldn’t remember, and that made him feel guilty.

Was it his fault that you thought so lowly of yourself? Maybe he should have been more adamant on showing how proud he was of your accomplishments. Becoming a State Alchemist at this age was more than a simple privilege. It was a precedent that no generation had ever seen in their lives.

“Why do you compare yourself to Fullmetal?” he inquired, rubbing your arm comfortingly. “He’s not you.”

“But he’s better than me and I can’t measure up to him.” Roy shook his head dismissively. For a moment, you wondered you disappointed him. “It doesn’t matter what Fullmetal is, (Y/n). He’s strong, I admit, but the most hot-headed kid I’ve ever met. Unlike him out, you never let emotions blind your choices. That’s something Fullmetal can’t do. As for strength, you don’t need that.”

He smiled a little and it was so warm. It wasn’t everyday you got to see this side of Roy. He was always caught up in paperwork, plans, and looking after what he worked so hard to accomplish. “You have enough wits to outsmart me. Remember that time Fullmetal challenged me to a match?”

You nodded. “I joined because I didn’t think he could handle it. Ed didn’t want my help, but I ended up coming along anyway.” A smug smirk made its way up Roy’s lips. “And who lasted the longest?”

“Me.”

“And why was that?”

"Because I read your attack patterns?" You uncertainly replied. Roy frowned. "Say it like you mean it."

"Because I read your attack patterns." you repeated. An approving look made its way up your dad's face. "Exactly. Fullmetal has wit, but you are a much more terrifying opponent." You sniffled with a huff. "I'm not--I'm not even close to your level."

"You don't have to be." Roy turned his gaze to the pouring rain, as if he were thinking about how useless his alchemy would be. "If you believed in yourself more, then you will advance farther than you've already come."

That wasn't true. How could you believe in yourself when you felt like an absolute failure? It didn't matter how many successes you've had in the past, because what if they were all flukes? Some day, your luck would run out. Then you'd let your dad down, along with Ed and Al and Hawkeye and Uncle Maes and everyone else you knew.

"You're not a failure, if that's what you're thinking." Roy blurted out. "I couldn't be more proud of how far you've come. The day I met you, I thought I'd fail you. Look where we are now." He laughed a little and it made you relax in his hold. "If you were a failure, you wouldn't have become a reowned State Alchemist. You wouldn't have survived in the most dire times either, and you wouldn't have made me so proud of you."

Your eyes widened. Had you heard him right? You had to be hearing things. Roy met your gaze and smiled warmly. "Yes, I'm proud of you. Why wouldn't I be?" For a moment, you remained still. The gears in your head churned like clockwork, dissecting and rewinding the words Roy had spoken. You tentatively wrapped your arms around Roy's middle.

Yes, I'm proud of you.

You buried your head into his shoulder.

Why wouldn't I be?

And then you cried. Today was nothing short of a bad day, but if you hadn't forgotten your umbrella, gotten ignored by the Elrics, nearly mugged, or showed up late, then you wouldn't have been able to hear those words and the silent I love you's.

IF YOU LIKE THIS, PLEASE REBLOG (IT HELPS ME OUT SOOOO MUCH AS A WRITER!)

[atlafan]

a/n: A couple of weeks ago I saw a post about ex’s to lovers, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. So basically it’s a story about two people who ended things on a semi-good note, like nothing inherently bad happened between them, but they decided to break up. Sometimes people find their way back to each other, though. That’s what we have here. Harry is a tax attorney, a few years older than our MC, Blair Smith, who teaches jazzercise. (not proofread) PLEASE REBLOG IF YOU READ THIS AND LIKE IT, YALL WANTED ME TO KEEP POSTING FICS ON HERE, SO HERE YOU GO! PLEASE, IT TAKES TWO SECONDS! Check out my patreon for other excursive content.

Warnings: angst, fluff, smut (sub!Harry????), mentions of death, a funeral

Words: 17.8K

Pairing: Harry x OC (Blair Smith)

When Blair Smith became a Physical Education major in college, she never thought that would lead her to leasing a dance studio, and teaching jazzercise. It took her until she was twenty-five to really get it all together. She wasn’t mad about it, she actually enjoyed it more than she thought. She double minored in Dance and in Business Administration, she had never been so thankful to have overloaded herself in her life. She thought she would be teaching gym at the high school level, along with some health and nutrition classes, but when she did her practicum semester at a local high school near her college, she realized that working with younger students was not for her. None of them listened, none of them really wanted to be there, aside from the gym-class-heroes, and she couldn’t stand that the majority wouldn’t even change their clothes for class.

Blair wanted to make her own rules. Luckily, after presenting a well-thought-out business plan to her parents, she was able to get them to co-sign for a loan from the bank to lease a dance studio. She named her studio Just Dance because she offered different types and levels of jazzercise. Some involved use of weights, some involved a little more high intensity, and some involved a little yoga. She was grateful for the couple of marketing classes she took because she was able to really build her brand. She had an Instagram, Facebook Page, and a website. She had an online way to sign up for memberships, and she had daily drop-in prices.

It was easier than she thought to build her clientele. She had a great spot in the city, and there was a small parking lot out back behind the building. Most of her friends from school signed up, and helped her advertise. It was open to men and women, as opposed to a lot of jazzercise places that only offered classes to women. Even though Blair couldn’t afford to hire a second instructor, she was managing things just fine. She offered two early morning sessions, one lunch hour session, and three evening sessions. So, she had plenty of time to relax, stretch, and not over work her muscles. She was strategic about class offerings as well. She gave herself Sundays and Fridays off, since those seemed to be the days with the least amount of people signed up. Monday through Thursday, and Saturday, she made sure to stagger her lessons. For example, Mondays and Wednesdays were weights and yoga infused classes, Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays were the high intensity days. Going into her fourth year doing this, she had it down to a science to say the least.

Business was always really good in January and February, when people were making their New Year’s resolutions, and during the summer months when people were trying to feel better about being in their bathing suits. Blair always preached positivity and inner health as the most important things. It was an inclusive space, which is exactly what she wanted it to be.

She liked working for herself. If she needed to run errands between classes, she could. If she wanted to take a nap in the middle of the day, she could. She didn’t have to answer to a single person. Her parents would sometimes ask questions, but mostly just to make sure Blair was making her loan payments on time. She had automatic withdrawals set up with the bank, so she didn’t even need to think about it. Yup, Blair had just about everything figured out, and she knew she was very lucky for that.

//

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Sullivan, we’ll get everything figured out for your son. Yes, he’s in very good hands with me. Alright, have a nice evening.” Harry hangs up his phone and sighs, rubbing at his temples to soothe the oncoming headache he could feel. It was another complicated trust fund case, but that was the job.

The Law Office of Styles and Associates was a tax attorney office. Harry specialized in cases that dealt with trusts, gifts, and various tax planning structures to reduce the burdens of income taxes and estate taxes, and he assisted in devising investment strategies. His undergraduate degree was in accounting, and he minored in pre-law. After that, he went to law school for three years and passed the bar. His father had been a tax attorney as well. Harry liked living the comfortable life he was able to live growing up thanks to his father, and he wanted the same for himself. Plus, he just enjoyed crunching numbers for people, so it was a win-win. Making nearly $150K a year wasn’t too shabby either.

“Hey, H, you ready to go?” John comes into Harry’s office.

“Yeah, just finished up for the day.” Harry stands up, puts his suit jacket back on, grabs his brief case, and heads out. “Kate, feel free to head home, I’m done for the day.” He tells his secretary on his way out.

“Thank you, Mr. Styles, have a nice weekend.” She smiles at him.

“Same to you.” He nods and keeps walking with John. “I feel terrible, she’s pregnant, you know? Her feet are the size of melons by the end of the day.”

“When’s her maternity leave start?” John asks as they enter the elevator.

“Not for a while, she’s only seven months along. She’s been trying to train some college intern to take her place while she’s gone, but no one’s as good as Kate.” Harry rolls her eyes. “Oh well, I’m happy for her. Her and husband have been trying to get pregnant for a while.”

Harry and John make their way to a bar downtown, one of their usual Friday evening spots. They usually met up with some of their other law-school buddies. It was also a great way to blow off steam from the week. Sometimes Harry would end up pulling a 60-hour week, so he thought he deserved to cut loose, and have a little fun with his friends. Maybe meet a pretty girl he could take back to her place and have a whole different kind of fun with her. Harry was a phenomenal attorney, but when it came to his personal life, well, if you looked up the definition of a playboy, his picture would be there. He fucked around, a lot, without a second thought. Actually, his only thought was to make sure he always had a condom. Harry never went bare back. The last thing he needed was someone claiming he was the father of their child, and suing him for child support. The only time he didn’t use a condom was when he was in a legitimate relationship a couple of years back.

He thought about her from time to time. He never met another girl like her, and there were times he really did miss her. The breakup wasn’t anything dramatic, the pair had just grown apart. Harry was in the process of taking over the practice for his father, and she…wasn’t quite ready to settle down. She wanted to work on her own career and make a name for herself. It hurt that she didn’t see him in her vision for the future, but he understood where she was coming from. She was a few years younger than him, and he didn’t want her to resent him for taking away her time to be young and have fun. So they ended it. Since her, he decided to have some fun himself with his friends.

//

Blair got the call right before her second morning class on Wednesday morning. She nearly collapsed on the floor in tears. Everyone rushed over to her. She had to cancel everything for the rest of the week, and her clients were more than understanding.

“How did it happen?” She asks her mother, Pam.

“He had a stroke, and…god, he just didn’t bounce back.” Pam uses a hankie to wipe her tears. “Most of everything should be all set, he was very specific, but…we’re going to need an attorney. Your father’s biggest fear is that his first wife would claim that she has a right to his pension, that she was promised money or something.”

“God, I hate her.” Blair grimaces. “All she’s ever cared about is making him miserable. She just wants money for her son. He’s not even Dad’s!”

“That’s why they got divorced! She cheated on him with his best friend and got knocked up. You can see how sticky this is going to get. I hate to ask, but…”

“I’ll go see him.” Blair sighs.

“I just think he might sympathize, maybe work the case pro bono. I’m not sure we could afford him otherwise.”

“Don’t worry about it, Mum, I’ll talk to him and figure it out. I’m not going to let Lora fuck everything up for you.”

//

Kate nearly choked on her water when she saw Blair walking towards her. She knew Harry had a meeting with a B. Smith. She should have known better.

“B-Blair, hi.” Kate says.

“Kate! Oh my goodness, you look incredible! You and Roger finally-“

“Yeah! I’m due in a couple more months.”

“That’s amazing, I’m so happy for you.” Blair smiles. “Um, I think I set up a meeting through an intern?”

“Yes.” Kate sighs. “I’m training her for when I go on maternity leave. Um, may I ask why you’re here to see Harry?”

“It’s strictly business. My…my father recently passed, and-“

“I’m so sorry.” Kate frowns. “He was always so nice.”

“Yeah, he was a good guy. Anyways, there’s a lot going on with his will and a trust he set up for my mom. Harry’s the only person I could think of when my mom said we’d need an attorney.”

“Of course.” Kate nods. “I’ll let him know you’re here.” Kate knocks on Harry’s door and opens it. “Mr. Styles?”

“Yes?”

“Your 2PM is here.”

“Ah, great.” Harry squints at his screen to check his calendar. “B. Smith? Why does that sound familiar?” He puckers his lips in thought.

“Um…it’s Blair.”

“Blair!” Harry stands up and bangs his knee in the process. “Why didn’t you tell me she was coming?!”

“I didn’t know! Maura answered when she called to set up the appointment.”

“Fuck.” Harry runs a hand through his hair. “How do I look? Is there anything in my teeth?”

“No, you’re fine. Just relax, I’m going to send her in.” Kate leaves his office and smiles at Blair. “He’s ready for you.”

“Thank you, Kate. We should catch up before the baby comes.”

“I’d like that. I miss going to your classes.”

Blair nods and goes into Harry’s office, closing the door behind her.

“Hi, Harry.”

“Hi.” He walks over to her, leaving about a foot of space between them. “To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you?” Her bottom lip trembles, and his smile fades. “What’s wrong?” He asks softly.

“M…my Dad died.” She says, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Oh, sweetheart.” He pulls her in for a hug so he can comfort her. “When’s the funeral? You know you could have just called me, you didn’t have to be so formal.”

“Actually, I did.” She sniffles and steps back from him. “I need an attorney, my mom and I do…only…we can’t really afford a good one.”

“Oh.” Harry nods. “Have a seat.” He gestures, and rounds his desk to sit back down in his own seat. “Is this about his ex-wife?”

“Unfortunately.” Blair rolls her eyes, and grabs a tissue off his desk. “My mom is scared she’s going to pull some fake paternity crap with her son, even though everyone knows he’s not my Dad’s. I think my mom just wants to be prepared for the inevitable shit storm Lora’s going to bring.”

“I don’t blame her.” Harry sighs and leans back in his chair. “I…haven’t taken a pro bono case yet this year. I could help that way.”

“Only if you really want to. I’m not asking for a handout, but I don’t trust anyone else to take care of me.” Blair blinks when she realizes what she’s said. “Us, I don’t trust anyone else to take care of us.”

“Right.” He leans forward. “I’d be happy to do it. Um, does your mom want to meet with me, or-“

“I think she’s sort of hoping I’ll take care of all the legal stuff. She’s grieving, you know?”

“So are you.” He frowns.

“You know me, I like to keep busy during these sorts of things. I can get a copy of the will, and the trust information over to you via email if that works, and then we can go from there?”

“Sure, yeah. My email’s still the same, um, and so is my phone number…”

“I still have your phone number.” She rolls her eyes.

“Then why didn’t you call me about this first? Why call and make an appointment?”

“I…I thought if I called…you’d think I was calling for something else.” She blushes. “I wanted you to know it was strictly business.”

“Blair, all you had to say was that your dad died. I could have been there for you. You live alone, all you do is work…your best friend is my cousin…do you and Riley even still talk?”

“Of course we do! Just because we broke up doesn’t mean that she and I did. I met you because of her, I was her friend first. It would be really shitty to stop talking to her because it didn’t work out with you.”

“Okay, Christ, calm down.” He shakes his head. “You’re as hot headed as ever, you know that?”

“I’m sorry, my father just died and I’m trying to keep it together!” Her eyes rim with tears again. “He’s never going to be able to walk down the aisle when I get married, he’s never going to meet his grandchildren, there are so many things…he was too young.” She sniffles.

“How did it happen?”

“He had a stroke, and didn’t recover.” She looks away.

“I’m so sorry.��

“I appreciate that, but that’s not going to being him back, so don’t be sorry. Just…help me with this.”

“I will, there’s no question about it.”

“Thank you, Harry.” She stands up. “I’ll email you.”

“Blair.” Harry stands up. “Look, if you need anything else, don’t be afraid to ask. If you need a friend…I’m here for you.”

“I have plenty of friends.” She sighs. “And no offense, but my friends don’t fuck a ton of women weekend after weekend and treat them like shit.” She smirks.

“I don’t do that.” His face flushes. “I just haven’t met someone I’ve really wanted to continue seeing, that’s all.”

“Harry.” Blair shakes her head as she chuckles. “Not that I ask, but Riley’s told me a few things. You two are close, and when she gets drunk she loves regaling me of your many escapades.”

“I’ll have to send her a very strongly worded text after you leave.” He rolls his eyes.

“Don’t get mad at her, it’s fine. I don’t really care.”

“You don’t?”

“No, why would I? It’s not me you’re fucking, so it doesn’t concern me.” She shrugs. “That’s the beauty of breaking up, Har, I don’t give a shit where you stick your dick at night.”

“Well, obviously you do if you won’t even let me be a friend to you, Blair.”

“I just…I don’t want us getting close again, alright? It’ll hurt when we end up parting way, and I don’t wanna go through that while also grieving my Dad. Can you understand that?”

“Yeah.” He nods. “Don’t worry, we’ll get this all sorted out.” He smiles at her.

“Thank you. I need to go. I told my mom I’d be over to help her pack some things up. She sort of just wants to rip the band aid and put his clothes away.”

“If you need any help at all with any heavy lifting, call me.”

“Harry.” Blair sighs.

“I’ve got that nice SUV, I can help move stuff, that’s all I’m saying.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. I’ll talk to you soon.” She says, and out the door she goes. Kate waits a moment before coming into Harry’s office.

“Scotch?” Kate asks.

“Scotch.” Harry nods, and Kate goes over to his credenza to take out his good crystal and liquor to pour him a small glass.

“You’ll get through this.” She lifts her water bottle to cheers with him, and he downs the brown liquid.

//

Blair was back at work the following week. She needed the distraction. Lora had been eerily quiet. Maybe she didn’t know that Blair’s father passed, but as soon as the obituary hit the papers, she was sure that witch would be out and about to cause some trouble. At the end of Blair’s last Thursday class, she heard the sound of dress shoes on the hard wood. She turns to see Harry.

“You know there’s not supposed to be outside shoes in here. I just mopped.” She puts her hands on her hips and huffs at him.

“Yeah, I’m well aware of the rules. I used to be your best customer, remember?” He smirks. “Anyways, I looked over all the documents, I thought you might like to go over everything with me before the funeral, in case she shows up to cause trouble, you’ll have all the facts.”

“I need to, like, go home and shower…today was an intensive day, I’m soaked.”

“Perfect, I’ve got dinner in the car. We can go there, eat, and go over the documents.” He smiles.

“You’re such a weasel.” She chuckles. “But I’m too tired to argue with you. What did you pick up to eat?” She raises an eyebrow at him.

“Nothing special.” He shrugs. “Just some dumpling curry from that Thai place we both like.”

“I take it back you’re not a weasel, you’re the devil.”

Harry drives over to Blair’s apartment. He didn’t have a key anymore so he had to wait for her. He follows her up to her apartment, and makes himself at home while she goes to take a shower. She hadn’t changed much, but he definitely noticed some different pictures on her bookshelves. They used to be littered with framed photos of them, and she had a ton of scrapbooks for the two of them, but those seemed to be missing now as well. He sighs while he plates up the food for the both of them, and opens up a bottle of wine while he waits. Blair comes out about ten minutes later with her hair wrapped up in a towel, and her long, plush, pink robe around her body. She sits down next to him at the island.

“Wine?” She questions, but picks up the glass to take a sip.

“It’s been a long day, to be honest with you. I’m gonna work from home to catch up on some sleep tomorrow since I don’t have any meetings.”

“You know I have Fridays off, we could have done this tomorrow.” She frowns.

“It’s okay, I figured you’d want everything now. The funeral’s Saturday, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Eat up, and then we can look at everything.”

“We can do both at the same time.”

“Does your nose still run like a leaky faucet when you eat spicy food?” He smirks, and she rolls her eyes. “That’s what I thought.”

“Thank you for picking this up.” She says as she takes a bite. “I haven’t had this in forever.”

“Me neither…I stopped going because I didn’t want to run into you there.”

“That’s why I stopped going. We should have divided up restaurants when we broke up.” She laughs, and takes another sip of wine. “Do you mind if I dry my hair when we’re done eating? I’ll get a-“

“You’ll get a headache if you don’t, I know the drill.” He takes a sip of his own wine, and eats a spoonful of rice.

“Stop remembering things about me.” She swats a hand at him.

“We were together for long enough, Blair, I can’t help it.”

“Yeah, well, quit throwing it in my face, okay? We’re not doing this to go for a stroll down memory lane.”

Harry knew he’d be waiting at least twenty minutes while Blair dried her hair. He walks around her living room, stretching his legs a bit. He was curious to see what she had filled her bookshelves with. There was a picture of her and Riley from their freshman year of college. Harry picks it up and smiles. Harry was in his first year of law-school when Riley and Blair were college freshmen. He didn’t meet Blair formally until their senior year, and he was in his first year working at his father’s firm. He was helping Riley move in after winter break, and Blair had already been there.

“Blair!” Riley exclaimed. “I missed you so much.” She threw her arms around her.

“I missed you too! I’m glad we both agreed to come back a week early.”

“Same here. This is my cousin, Harry. Harry, this is Blair.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” Harry shook Blair’s hand.

“It’s nice to meet you too.” Her mouth had run dry. They held eye contact for a beat too long. “You’re in law school, right?”

“I finished last year, I’m actually working now. I’m a tax attorney.” He explains. “It’s my dad’s business.”

“And it’s super boring.” Riley rolled her eyes. “Har, could you bring everything in for me? I have a meeting with my advisor that I need to get to. We’re going over my practicum stuff.”

“Sure thing. We’re still getting dinner later, right?”

“Mhm, I shouldn’t be too long. Blair, you don’t mind if Harry hangs here for a bit, do you? You’re also welcome to come to dinner with us.”

“Sure, I don’t have a problem with it.” She shrugged.

“You’re the best. See you in a little while!”

“Is there a lot of stuff? I can help.” Blair said to Harry.

“Not a lot, no. But…I’ve never been here before, so if you could just show me upstairs, that would be great.”

“Yeah.” She nodded.

Harry brought Riley’s suitcase in, and Blair led him upstairs. She showed him Riley’s room.

“Is yours similar?” He asked.

“My room? Um, no…it’s a little different.” She swallowed. “Do you wanna see?”

“I’d love to.” He grinned, and followed her down the hall to her room. “Riley’s told me a lot about you over the years, but she failed to mention how insanely gorgeous you are.” He leaned against her wall after she closed her door.

“Well, she failed to mention how hot her cousin is, but I suppose that would be a weird thing to say about a family member.” She smirked. “How old are you, exactly?’

“I’m about to turn twenty-six, what about you?”

“I’m almost twenty-two…in May.”

“Not a huge age difference.” He walked towards her.

“Not at all.” She looked up at him with big eyes.

“Want me to kiss you?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, all done.” Blair says, coming out with her all dry and pretty. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing, just saw this old picture of you and Riley.”

“God, we were babies then.” Blair smiles at the photo. “We took that on the day we met at orientation.” She looks at him. “Wanna sit on the couch?”

“Sure.” Harry grabs his briefcase and takes out all of the documents he needed to go over with Blair. “So, as you can see, your father set up a trust for you that you’ll get access to a year after his passing. That’s pretty standard. Your mother has a different sum of money that she’ll be able to access much sooner. There’s absolutely nothing in his will about Lora or her son. Even if she tries to contest it, there’s nothing in here that would indicate he was hiding anything. I looked over their divorce settlement as well, she stopped getting alimony when she remarried. She literally has no case. You and your mum can take a breather.”

“Oh, what a relief! Thank you, Harry. She’ll be able to let herself relax for the first time in a while.”

“Are you going to take any more time off from work?”

“Well, I’m closed Saturday, and I’m off Sunday, and I’m closed Monday as well. Then I’ll be back to it Tuesday.”

“You’re only giving yourself a long weekend?” He frowns.

“Harry, I can’t afford to keep closing. I make enough with the memberships, but I won’t be making the extra I do from the walk-ins.”

“Look, if you need some money-“

“Don’t you dare.” She stands up. “I don’t want your money, Harry, I never have, and I never will. I’m not your goddamn sugar baby!”

“I never said you were!” He says, standing up.

“But you used to make me feel like that all the time! You were always paying for every little thing. You never let me pay for a single thing. It was like you had zero confidence in me, even though I was running a successful business!”

“You were just starting out! All I wanted to do was help you, make it a little easier for you. You’re the one that went to their parents for loan help when I would have done it in a heartbeat! You crushed me.”

“We weren’t even living together, and you were ready to drop that amount of money on me?! That would have been so weird!”

“We were both working odd hours, and we had only been together a few months at that point, moving in would have been weird! A loan is totally different, I would have been investing in something great.”

“Well, I didn’t need your investment! We were together for nearly three years, Harry, what’s your excuse for not living together after all that time, hm?”

“I would have felt guilty. I was never home, I didn’t want you waiting up for me. It was easier when I could just come here and crawl into bed with you after a long day. And you always had to get up so much earlier than me. I thought…I thought it was better that we weren’t living together. You had never lived alone before, I wanted you to enjoy the freedom.”

“Was that it, or did you just want to keep your own?” She huffs, crossing her arms. “You know what, this fight is useless, it doesn’t matter because it’s not going to solve a single fucking thing. Thank you for your help, I really do appreciate it, but now that I know everything’s fine, you can go. If I need anything else from you down the line, I’ll reach out. I’m sure Lora will make a stink, and therefore I’ll need an attorney. But it’s all professional, Harry.”

“You’ve made that plenty clear already, thanks.” Harry packs up his things, and Blair walks him to the door. They look at each other. He just sighs and heads out the door.

Blair would be lying if she said that she didn’t miss Harry. They had a really special bond that was hard to find with just any one. All they did that first day they met was kiss, have a passionate make out, but that was it. Blair didn’t want to go too far with him in case Riley wasn’t comfortable with it. But Riley was overjoyed when Harry asked if she would mind if he asked Blair out on a date. It was a whirlwind from there.

He took her on some of the nicest dates she had ever been on. Most guys would take her out for coffee, maybe a movie if they could scrape the money together, but Harry took Blair out to nice restaurants, and to the movies that had lux levels. Not to mention his condo, god, she loved his condo. He liked that she kept things simple. Crockpot dinners at her place, watching TV curled up in her little full-sized bed, and clipping coupons together on Sunday mornings. That was where they had sex for the first time, in her little bed after their fifth date. He told her he loved her for the first time on the top of a Farris Wheel during the spring carnival her campus held, and she wasted no time saying it back. After that, a deeper trust formed between the two of them. One that not a lot of people would understand. Harry didn’t quite understand it himself since he was usually the one who was a little more dominant in bed, but with Blair…well, needless to say after a long week of working cases, his favorite thing was to come home, find her in his bedroom with some lingerie on, and letting her tie him to the bed posts for a little while. It was a release he didn’t even really know he needed. And with her, having been a college student about ready to graduate and enter the real world, it felt like so many things were out of control. Harry gave her that control back.

Harry wonders if that’s why they breakup seemed so much harder on him than her. It seemed like Blair was able to let go so easily. Yes, he started fucking around afterwards, but he just couldn’t get that same high from anyone else, nor did he trust some random girl at a bar to do the things for him that Blair once did. Blair was just better at hiding her emotions. She missed Harry, she’s missed him for a long time now. She cried for weeks, feeling this undeniable ache in her heart without him around. But, she had her studio to throw herself into, a brand to keep building. It was the perfect distraction, and even though she missed Harry, she didn’t hate being single for the first time in a while. For three years, Harry had been like her security blanket. The way she looked at it, every kid eventually stops sleeping with their security blanket at some point. It was time to be independent.  

//

The funeral was a graveside service. It was cloudy, but there wasn’t rain, which was probably the only upside Blair could think of. She was there, sitting next to her mother, other family members in the row behind them. Her mother was holding Blair’s hand, but this is one the few times Blair wished someone was there for her. Just as the service was about to get started, someone sat down next to her. She looks to her right and sees Harry, dressed in black from head to toe. He doesn’t say anything, he just puts his arm around her, and rubs his shoulder. He gives Blair’s mom a soft smile before sitting back in his seat.

“Harry…you weren’t supposed to come until afterwards…” Blair says.

“I know.” He looks at her. “I just wanted to be here for you.”

Harry gave Blair his extra tissues while she cried during the service. He held her the entire time, and stayed back once it was over. Then, he offered to drive Blair and Pam back to Pam’s home. Neither of them were in any condition to drive. There were a lot of people that came back to the house afterwards. Blair was able to calm down a bit, but her mother was really taking it hard.

“We don’t have to do this today.” Harry says to Blair.

“No, we should just rip the band aid. Then she can just…” Blair’s eyes widen when she sees Lora walk through the door. “Oh, you miserable cunt.” She says.

“What?” Harry asks, confused.

“Not you, Lora’s here.” Blair storms over to her. “What are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you too.” Lora smiles. “I’m here to grieve the loss of my first husband.”

“You weren’t at the funeral.”

“I didn’t want to upset anyone.” Lora shrugs. “So…have you read the will yet? I think I should be in on that.”

“Lora.” Pam says when she walks over. “Alright, let’s get this over with.” Pam sighs, and has everyone follow her down the hall to the guest bedroom. Harry takes out the paperwork.

“There’s been-“ He starts, but he’s cut off.

“I’m sorry, but how is it legal if her boyfriend is reading the will?” Lora asks.

“We’re not together anymore. We haven’t been for a while. He’s here as our attorney, that’s it.” Blair says.

“Anyways, been a trust set up for Blair a little down the road. Everything else, including the house, has been left to Pamela Smith. There is no mention of anyone else’s name.”

“That can’t be right.” Lora scoffs. “I was promised-“

“He would have never left you anything.” Pam says. “And I’m sick of dealing with you. He’s gone, he’s left you nothing, you have no ties to us now. It’s clear as day that Derek is not his. He owed you absolutely nothing, you gold digging bitch.” Pam steps closer to Lora. “Now, get out of my house before I have you removed. I buried my husband today, I am in no mood to be fucked with.”

“Fine.” Lora says, turns on her heel and leaves.

“Way to go, Mum.” Blair gives her a high five. “I thought she’d put up more of a fight than that.”

“With your father maybe, but not with me. I’ve ripped her cheap extensions out more than once, and she knows I’ll do it again.” She takes take a deep breath. “I think I’m about ready to be done for the day. I need to lay down.”

“Do you want me to stay tonight?” Blair asks her.

“No, honey, thank you. Auntie Fay is staying, I’ll be alright.” She looks at Harry. “Harry, I can’t thank you enough for helping with all of this.”

“Don’t mention it. If there’s anything else I can do, anything at all, don’t be afraid to ask.”

“Drive Blair home.”

“Mum.”

Pam raises her hands in defense and leaves the room.

“I can drive you back if you want. I took an uber out here as it was.” Harry says, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“You’ve done enough for me today, it’s alright…I can make it back on my own. Riley’s flying back in from Chicago tomorrow and we’re gonna have a girl’s day, so-“

“Blair, I still have your keys in my pocket, I’m driving you.”

“I don’t need you to swoop in here and act like superman, Harry.” Her bottom lip trembles. “I know my dad’s not around to do it anymore, but-“

“Hey.” He takes her in his arms. “I wish I could take it all away, I really do. I wish you weren’t going through all of this, baby.”

“Harry.” She sighs heavily into his chest.

“Sorry.” He rests his chin on the top of her head. “Some habits are hard to break I guess.”

“Have you called anyone else baby in the last year?” She nuzzles in close to him.

“No.” He tilts her chin up to look at him. “I never could.”

“Okay, you can drive me home.” She sighs. “I’m about ready to pass out as it is.”

Blair takes a few minutes to say goodbye to the people still at the house before her and Harry get into her car. He keeps the music volume low, and her eyes start to droop. Harry can’t help but feel soft and warm knowing she was so easily able to fall asleep with him there still. She’d always fall asleep on long car rides.

“Blair.” Harry says, trying to wake her up. “We’re at your place, love.” She groans at him, and he sighs. “Are you really going to make me carry you up?” She groans again and he rolls his eyes. Blair would always pretend to be asleep so Harry would carry her inside. He unbuckles her, gets out, and opens her door to lift her out. “You’re killing me.” He grunts as he carries her to the front door. He keys in, and carries her up the stairs to her door. “I know you’re awake.” He says as he brings her to her bedroom.

“Mm, but you’re so strong and warm.” She mumbles.

“Okay.” He chuckles and lays her on her bed. “Are your pj’s still in the third drawer of your dresser.”

“Harry.” She sits up. “You don’t have to do all that…”

“I was just gonna grab you a shirt and get out of your hair.” He says innocently.

“God, I’m so confused.” She pinches the bridge of her nose.

“About what?” He grabs a bed shirt for her, and sits on the edge of her bed.

“I think I’m just feeling vulnerable, I don’t know.” She looks away from him. “I don’t want you to go.” She mutters, and then looks at him. “But I also don’t want to get your hopes up.”

“If you need me to stay as a friend, I can do that.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’d never leave you like this.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I was just gonna pretend to leave, and then crash on your couch.”

“Well, you don’t have to do that. Got a queen sized bed now, plenty of room.”

“I can see that.” He smiles. “There was nothing wrong with your old bed. It was kinda fun when we were practically sleeping on top of each other.”

“Yeah, but your bed was better for…well…never mind.” She clears her throat. “Um, I still have some of your old pajama pants in my drawer, you can wear those if you want.”

“I’m good with just boxers if that’s alright with you.”

“Oh, um sure.” She gets off the bed to stand up. “I’m just gonna go wash up and change.”

Harry nods and gets undressed. He goes over to her bathroom door to wait his turn. Blair’s eyes widen when she sees him standing there in his underwear.

“You don’t have a spare toothbrush, do you?”

“Um, you can use one of the extra heads I have for my electric brush.”

“Thanks.” He steps into the bathroom as she leaves to go back to her bedroom.

“Oh my god.” She says to herself. He had beefed up a bit. Harry was already sort of beefy, but he used to be leaner. Had he been getting a lot of protein? She shakes her head as she crawls into bed. Harry comes in shortly after and gets in on the other side. She turns her head to look at him. “Thank you, Harry.”

“You don’t have to thank me.” He looks at her. “I’d be a pretty shitty person to leave you in a time like this.”

“Yeah, but you could be catching tail at some bar with your friends.” She smirks at him.

“You make me sound like I’m promiscuous or something.” He chuckles and turns fully on his side towards her. She does the same. “It’s a stress reliever, and I always wrap it up. M’not doing anything wrong.”

“Do you, um, do what we used to do with any of these hookups?”

“No.” He smirks. “No, I don’t think I could ever trust someone in that way again even if I tried.” He chews his bottom lip. “What about you?”

“Harry, to be honest with you…I haven’t slept with anyone since we broke up.”

“Blair, that was a year ago.”

“I’m well aware.” She rolls her eyes.

“That’s a long fucking dry spell.”

“It’s not a dry spell, it’s a personal choice. I threw myself into the studio, I worked on choreographing a ton of new dances. I was building my brand, bringing in more clientele. Plus…anytime I’d use a dating app or go out with Riley to a bar…no one was ever you.”

“I know things seemed mutual and we didn’t end in some big blow up…but I was so hurt that we couldn’t make things work.” He reaches to tuck some hair behind her ear. “I thought we were going to be together forever.”

“So did I…but I don’t know if I was ready for something so long-term yet, which I know sounds stupid because three years is a long time to be with someone.”

“It’s not stupid. I would have felt the same at that age. It was sort of selfish of me to try to lock you down the way I was.”

“You weren’t being selfish for wanting to be with me, Harry.”

“You know, the last thing I expected when I helped Riley move in that semester was falling in love with her roommate. You just looked so cute that day.”

“You remember how I looked when we first met?”

“How could I forget? You were wearing these sweater leggings that had snow flakes on them, and you were wearing this oversized sweater that was hanging off your shoulder, and you kept trying to tug it back on. You seemed so flustered around me.”

“I was.” She laughs. “I thought for sure you just wanted to fuck me and then leave with the way you pushed me up against the wall when you kissed me.”

“Yeah, you nearly shit yourself at dinner afterwards. Poor Riley had no idea I frenched you for a solid thirty minutes.”

“My lips were so swollen, she had to have known. I was more in shock when you came by a week later to ask me out. God, you were so cute, you were waiting outside my apartment with hot apple cider, and I had such a shit day at my practicum. I was in dingy sweats too, and you still told me I looked beautiful.”

“And I meant it.”

“Then you said I looked tired, and right before I went off on you, you pulled me inside and said that you were going to make me dinner so I could go upstairs and take a long hot shower.”

“Mhm, made you spaghetti and meatballs.”

“And that really yummy homemade garlic bread.” She smiles.

“Then we cuddled up and watched Ratatouille.” He chuckles.

“I was so mad that you had never seen it! And then you ended up loving it.”

“It’s a great movie, honestly.” He says, smiling at her. “Best first date ever.”

“Yeah, it was. When I went to sleep that night I couldn’t believe that a real man wanted to be with me. I don’t think any of the guys I dated in college knew how to cook.”

“Pretty sure I did a good job making you forget about any other guy you had ever been with.” He smirks, and she nudges his shoulder.

“Maybe…maybe when I’m in a better mindset…we could talk about…I mean…I’ve been thinking about you a lot ever since we started talking again, sorry, I’m rambling.” She sighs. “I don’t want you to think that I wanna give things another shot because you’ve been helping me and my mom, but it’s been hard not to think about it…especially after today.” She blinks away a few tears. “I wasn’t expecting you to come to the service. Riley felt awful that she couldn’t be there, and I felt so alone, even being with my mom. You’re so selfless.” She pouts at him.

“I would love to talk about potentially getting back together. I…I don’t think I realized how much I missed you until you walked into my office. I thought I was out having the time of my life, but I wasn’t. Nobody could ever compare to you.”

“I think I just need some time to make sure I’m not…I’m not just feeling this way because you’re being so sweet to me when no one else is.”

“Take all the time you need.” He strokes her cheek. “M’gonna turn over now. If you just so happen to feel like spooning me, I promise not to question it.”

“Please, snuggling sounds like the perfect medicine after today. Assume the position, Styles.”

He chuckles and rolls onto his other side. Blair slots a leg between his, and wraps her arm around his stomach. They both sigh, and wiggle closer to one another. Blair hadn’t felt peace like this in quite some time, and neither had Harry.

//

Blair woke up in a fog the next morning. Her eyes still felt puffy and swollen from crying, and even though the clock read 10AM, she felt like she could stay in bed for at least two more hours. She remembers Harry staying and falling asleep with her, but he wasn’t there next to her now. Where he laid was still warm, so he couldn’t have left too long ago. When she smells coffee, she wakes up a bit more. There was a coffee cup from Dunkin’ on her side table, along with a small bag that she knew had to be a coffee cake muffin. She sits up and sees a note next to the casual breakfast.

Had to rush off to the office this morning. Got a call that one of my major clients passed, and his family is already fighting over the money. Had to time to run out and get you brekkie though! I’ll call you later. – H

Blair pouts at the note, and takes a sip of her coffee, which had cooled down just enough for her to sip it without burning her tongue. She texts Harry a quick “thank you” before diving into her muffin. This was his signature “sorry for not being there when you wake up” breakfast treat. There had been many mornings Blair had woken up alone after spending the night with him. It wasn’t because Harry liked scooting out, he just usually got pulled away due to something work related, and he knew that Blair liked being able to sleep in when she could on the weekends, especially when she was still in school. She never minded because she knew he was busy. She used to just lounge around for an hour or so in his large bed before getting up and making it. Then she’d take an indulgent bath in his Jacuzzi-tub. He’d usually get back to her sometime in the afternoon, and they would snuggle up to watch a movie before he brought her back to her apartment. It worked for them.

There were plenty of times Blair had to scoot early as well. When she was doing her practicum, she needed to be at the high school no later than 7AM, which sucked because at the time she was a major night owl. It’s taken her years of discipline to get herself to fall asleep at a reasonable time so she wouldn’t be so groggy and grumpy in the morning. That was something that Harry helped with as well. He told her about this sleepy time playlist on Spotify that he would listen to on the nights he needed to go to bed early. Blair had told him she couldn’t afford the premium membership and she didn’t want to be jolted awake by ads. So what did Harry do? He bought the subscription plan that allowed for two people to be on it, helped her shift her account, and even though she protested, he insisted. The music sounded like something a masseuse would put on, and it always put her right to sleep. Harry was a genius, at least Blair thought so.

“How do you always have an answer for everything?” She had cried to him on a particularly stressful evening. It was after she graduated, and she had just gotten her business up and running. She felt overwhelmed and scared. “You always stay so calm, it’s like you don’t even care!”

“I just know that this’ll pass, baby. You just graduated from college, you’re going through a major life change. You’ve had the same routine all your life, and now it’s completely different. In a few months things won’t feel as scary.” He smiled at her, and wrapped his arms around her mid-section. “Went through the same thing myself not too long ago. I promise, it gets a lot better. Your early twenties fucking suck.”

“Yeah? How are things looking in the world of mid to late twenties?” She pouted up at him.

“Well,” he moved some hair away from her face, “I’ve got an incredible girlfriend who loves me, and I just so happen to love her, and I’m feeling settled in mt job, and I have a great place to live, and oh! Finally stopped having stress dreams about missing a big exam. Can’t complain too much.”

“I…I’m gonna be really busy at the studio. I have to choreograph all these dances, and start advertising, and-“

“Hey, I’ve got an idea.” He tugged her along down the hall to his home office.

“Harry, I’m not in the mood to fuck in your office…” She said, and Harry chuckled.

“As much as I love it when you let me bend you over my desk, that’s not what this is about.” He took her inside and took out a few sheets of blank paper and some pens. He sat down and pulled her into her lap. “Alright, this used to help me all the time when I was super stressed, still does, actually.” She watched as he drew three large circles, and wrote CHOREOGRAPHY in one, SOCIAL MEDIA, in another, and BUDGET

in the last. “Alright, so these are some rather large cookies, wouldn’t you say?” He looked up at her, and she looked down at him and nodded. “Okay, so what are some ways we can take little bites out of these?”

“Like a checklist for each?”

“Sort of, yeah.” He drew a few stems from each circle. “Almost like a backwards flow chart.”

“Is this what you do with your clients when they ask for financial advice?”

“Sometimes.” He nodded. “But more importantly, I want to help my girlfriend who is insanely frazzled. I hate when people try to be problem solvers…so hope you don’t think that’s what I’m trying to do…”

“No.” She shook her head. “This is great. I think if I have it all laid out in front of me…and can check certain things off…take smaller bites, like you said, I can handle things better.” She grabbed a pen and started writing, and making more stems, color coding a few of them. “My parents are gonna help cover the loan payments for the first year so I can save up, and start paying off my student loans.” She chewed her bottom lip. “And I can set aside some time in the mornings to do the social media stuff, and use the afternoons for choreography…evenings I can work on my website.”

“Just think of how sweet it’ll all taste by the time you finish.” He smiled up at her, and she leaned in to peck his lips.

“I love you, Harry, thank you.”

“I love you too, baby.” He kissed her again, ever so tenderly and soft. “Don’t let this stuff build up, you know you can talk to me about anything.”

“I just feel like my problems are so trivial, like, there are people that are starving, and I’m crying about being overwhelmed.”

“Your feelings are valid, don’t compare it to what someone else might be going through.”

“Do you think, um, could you just hold me for a bit?” It was so rare for Blair to be this vulnerable. Usually she was the one to hold Harry, but once in a while she just really needed him.

“Of course.” He shifted in his seat to cradle her to his chest. He was so warm and inviting, he always made Blair feel safe.

Blair sighs, and shakes herself from the memory. She couldn’t bask in the good times and act as if there weren’t also bad times. Although…there really weren’t that many bad times. She finishes up her muffin and gets out of bed. She grimaced when she saw herself in her bathroom mirror, and decided a long, hot shower would do her some good. She didn’t have the energy to wash her hair, so she grabs a scrunchie to put it up in a bun on the top of her head. As the warm water cascades over her body, she can’t help but continue to let her mind wander to other old memories.

“Harry! I told you I’d be five minutes.” Blair whispered to Harry as he entered the bathroom. He locked the door behind him and smirked. “Riley’s home! Just down the hall sleeping.” Harry pulled back the shower door, and walked into it with her. All he did was put a finger up to his lips.

“Then we’ll need to be quiet.” He whispered to her, ghosting his lips over hers.

“I…I’ve never had sex in the shower before. I always heard it wasn’t as cracked up as it looks in the movies.”

“That’s because people try too hard to do it full on.” He stepped into the water, getting his hair wet, and then moves her so she’s pressed up against the wall. He knelt in front of her, and looked up at her wet body. “Can I make you feel good, baby?”

“Y-yes.”

He grinned, and lifted one of her legs over his shoulder.

“Now, you need to stay quiet.” He pressed his lips to one of her hip bones, and kissed across her pelvis. “So, if it gets to be too much, just suck on your fingers or something, pull my hair, whatever you need to do.” She watched as his eyes darkened when he licked over her clit. His tongue moved to her slit and licked up. He moaned, letting his eyes flutter closed before looking back up at her. “You have no idea how fucking good you taste.”

“Blair!” Riley exclaims as she comes into the apartment. Blair’s taken from her thoughts just as she was whimpering out Harry’s name.

“I’m in the shower!” Blair yells back, and finishes cleaning herself up. She meets Riley out in the living room once she’s thrown some sweats on. “Hi.”

“Oh, god, I’m so sorry I couldn’t be there.” Riley wraps her arms around her friend.

“You couldn’t have known.” Blair hugs her back. “A month in Chicago, I can’t wait to hear all about it.” They let go of each other.

“Are you sure you wanna talk about all that?”

“Yeah, I need the distraction.”

“Alright. I brought coffee and doughnuts.” Riley smiles.

“Thank you, but I might save that for later. I had coffee and a muffin earlier…um, Harry spent the night last night.” Blair blushes as they both move to sit on the couch.

“Holy shit! Pleas don’t tell me you called him for a booty call.” Riley frowns.

“No, it was nothing like that. I told you he was helping with all of the legal stuff…he ended up coming to the funeral unannounced. He was there for me…he drove me home and I asked him to stay. We just slept, and he was gone before I woke up because of a work thing.”

“Ah, and he brought you the old comfort breakfast to make up for it.” Riley shakes her head. “Well, I’m glad he was there for you. I always hoped you would become friends at some point after you broke up.”

“I don’t think I realized how much I missed him. I’ve been so independent for the last year, it felt kind of nice to lean on him for a change.”

“Do you think you wanna get back together?”

“I don’t know…I was definitely feeling something yesterday, even this morning, but I don’t know if it’s because I’m just sad and vulnerable, or if it’s because I really wanna give it a second go. I don’t really know what would be different this time. He still works crazy hours, and-“

“He’s dialed back a lot.” Riley cuts him off. “Ever since he’s taken over, and once he really got settled into it, he hasn’t been working himself to the bone like he was. Are there still some sixty-hour weeks? Sometimes, but not like he was, I swear.”

“He didn’t seem to think we still spoke…so that made me think you weren’t as close with him…”

“I don’t hang out with him as much…I speak with his friend John quite a bit, though.” Riley blushes.

“Speak to or fuck?” Blair smirks.

“Don’t. If Harry knew I was messing around with one of his boys, god, I don’t even wanna think about it.”

“Oh, so he can go out with your friend, but you can’t go out with his?”

“John and I aren’t going out. We just…meet up to fuck sometimes, but we both still hookup with other people. I mean, I’m sure he slept with his share of people while I was away.”

“Did you?”

“There were a couple of people I let take me back to my hotel, yeah.” Riley nods. “Don’t say anything to Harry, okay?”

“Christ, I’m not his best friend all of a sudden. I think I was just emotional last night. I doubt we’ll even-“

There’s a jingle of keys, and then Harry’s entering the apartment. He freezes when he sees Riley.

“Hey! You’re back.” He smiles at his cousin. “How was Chicago?”

“Windy.” Riley says. “But fun, I made a ton of sales.”

“That’s great.” Harry sets the keys on the kitchen counter and then comes further into the living area. “How are you this morning?” He asks Blair.

“I’m okay, um, thanks for breakfast.”

“Yeah, of course, sorry I had to skip out. Uh, I just came back to see how you were, but I can see your girl’s day has started, so I’ll head out.”

“You can stay, Har, we were just gonna paint our nails, nothing you haven’t done with us before.” Riley says. “You don’t mind, right, Blair?”

“S-sure, you can stay, Harry…if you want to.”

“I’d love to stay.” He comes over and sits down on Blair’s other side. “Nothing like giving you a Styles sandwich to make you feel better.” He smirks. “Alright, Riles, what colors did you bring?”

The three ended up having a great day together. It felt like old times. They painted their nails, ordered Chinese, and watched Mystic Pizza. Riley was starting to get tired, so she left around six. The jet lag was catching up with her. So it was just Harry and Blair sitting on the couch watching Wall-E.

“Do you remember the first time we watched this?” Harry asks her a few minutes in.

“Mhm.” Blair smiles without looking at him. “It was that weekend we went away Hampton Beach, and it rained in the evening, so instead of being annoyed, we got all cozy and watched this.”

“After…” He looks at her, a smirk growing on his face.

“Harry.” She rolls her eyes.

“Come on, what did we do just before settling in to watch this adorable film?”

Blair sighs, but gives in, “We made hot fudge sundaes, and, um, I let you lay me on the counter and lick chocolate sauce and whipped cream off my body.” She swallows. “Then I did the same to you. We made a mess of the Air BnB.”

“We cleaned it up. Then we got into that big, comfy bed and just vegged out. Think this is one of my favorite Pixar films that you showed me.”

“You really liked Cars too.” Blair chuckles.

“Yeah, I did. That was a good one.” Harry leans back on the couch, crossing his arms behind his head.

“You don’t need to do this, you know?”

“Do what, love?” He says without looking at her, eyes focused on the screen.

“Babysit me.” She mutters.

“S’not what I’m doing.” He scoffs. “I’m enjoying spending time with you, Blair.” He looks at her. “And I’m worried about you, but I’m not babysitting you.” He puts his hand on her knee and gives it a squeeze before taking it away. “Just relax, yeah?”

“Thanks.” She pauses for a moment. “Harry…would you be taking care of me like this if you had a new girlfriend?” Her eyes start to well up with tears. “Because-“

“Why are you asking a what if like that?” He reaches to wipe her tears with his thumbs. “At the risk of sounding totally lame…I was sort of just waiting on you. Sort of hoping you’d wanna get back together at some point. I tried dating, but it’s like I told you…no one was ever you.”

“So you just kept fucking strangers?” She was so confused.

“It was all meaningless. I figured if you were out there living your life, then I should do the same.” He shrugs.

“Harry, I know you think we broke up because you thought I needed time to be young or whatever, but I wasn’t out there fucking a ton of different people. I just…I don’t know, I wanted to be on my own.”

“And I understood that, as much as it upset me. What was I going to do, beg you to stay my girlfriend?” He moves a bit closer to her. “If we were to get back together, what would you want to be different? Obviously things stopped working…”

“It’s not that they stopped working, I just…I think I just grew up a little bit. You gave me plenty of room for it, but I just sort of realized that there were other things I wanted to do and I didn’t wanna be totally tied down. If we were to get back together, I wouldn’t want you paying for things all the time, or thinking you need to fix all of my problems. Sometimes I just want someone to listen without making suggestions, you know?”

“I didn’t even realize I was doing that.” He runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I know you always meant well, and you were just trying to help in your own way.” She gives him a reassuring smile. “It didn’t always bother me, but sometimes it did. I wasn’t perfect either, I know how closed off I could get.” She furrows her brows. “I’ve been trying to work on that. I added the yoga into my routines…so that’s been helping. You sort of inspired that.”

“I should start my membership back up.”

“Yeah…it would be nice to see you in class again.”

“Remember when I started coming on Tuesday evenings, and then we’d go to the Thai place for dinner afterwards?”

“Mhm, and then you’d take us back to your place, and set up a bath for us.” She sighs dreamily. “And then you’d massage my calves for me, ugh, I always loved that.”

“Couldn’t have my baby being sore the next morning, could I?” He pouts playfully at her, and she giggles.

“You were always so good to me.” Her face was only a few inches from his now.

“Fucking worshiped you.” His lips ghost over hers, and she whimpers.

“Kiss me, Harry.”

His lips slot over hers immediately, and cups her cheeks to pull her even closer. He sucks on her bottom lip, and she whimpers again. Blair tugs on Harry’s shirt, and then pushes his back to the couch. She moves to straddle him, and he wraps his arms around her body. They’re both grabbing at different parts of one another, and she shifts so she’s only straddling one of his thighs, rolling her hips down onto it. Harry groans, and starts kissing on her neck. She gets a fist full of his hair, and yanks his head back.

“Harry, I don’t think this is a good idea.” She admits. “I mean…we haven’t agreed to anything. I think we should take this slow, don’t you?”

“You just told me to kiss you, and then you climbed into my lap.” He smirks, and she starts laughing.

“Yeah.” She grips his chin with her other hand. “You’re always good at doing exactly what I say.”

“Always.” He agrees. “If you’re not planning on having your way with me then you should get off. You’re only gonna rile me up, and I’ve not done anything to deserve that.”

“No, I suppose you deserve a reward instead of a punishment.” She presses her forehead to his and lets her hands fall to his shoulders. She sighs heavily and then looks at him again. “I need a little more time. I wanna make sure that this really makes sense. The last thing I wanna do is hurt you again.”

“I don’t want you to feel hurt either.” He squeezes her hips. “I wanna give you the time, Blair, but you’ve also had a year to sort your feelings. You either wanna do this or you don’t.”

“I really hate it when you’re right.” She huffs. “But I know what you’re saying.”

“How about this…why don’t we go out Saturday night? We could go on a date, and see how it feels.”

“Why not Friday?”

“Because you work early on Saturday mornings, darling, and you’re just going to be getting back to it again.” He tucks some hair behind her hear. “Can’t have you being sleepy.”

“You’re so sweet.” She smiles. “Okay, yeah, I’d like that. Um, did you want to just go out for dinner?”

“If that’s what you wanna do, baby. I’m down for whatever.”

“I haven’t been to that grill we used to go to all the time in forever. Feel like I could go for a really good burger.”

“Alright, we’ll go to Benson’s. I’ll pick you up around six, how’s that sound?”

“I think it sounds like a date.”

//

On Wednesday evening, much to Blair’s surprise, Harry walked into one of her evening classes with Riley. Riley had a cheeky smile on her face, and Blair just shook her head at the two of them. It had been ages since Harry had been to one of her classes, and he had picked a yoga day.

“Good evening, everyone!” Blair says once everyone gets there. “We’re gonna start off with our warm up, and then get in to it. We’ll work a little with the weights, and then we’ll cool down with the yoga like always. Does everyone have their weights?” She hears a collective yes. “Alright!” She hops up onto the small stage and gets the music playing.

When the class is over, a few people hang back to talk to Blair. Riley would usually grab a quick bite with her after class. A guy was talking to her now.

“Hey, who is that?” Harry asks Riley as they clean up their stations.

“Hm? Oh, that’s Rich, he has a thing for Blair.” Riley rolls her eyes. “He refuses to take a hint. The second he found out she was single he was all over her. She’s nice to him, but she doesn’t like him back.”

Harry narrows his eyes, and reads Blair’s body language like a book. Her arms were crossed, and she was casually trying to step away from Rich.

“I’ll get him to leave her alone.” Harry says.

“Harry, don’t.” Riley grabs his wrist. “She can handle herself.”

“I know she can, but she looks so uncomfortable. What if they were left alone here, and he tried something. He needs to know she has some backup.” Harry walks over to the two, and Blair can’t help but smirk because she knows exactly why Harry’s walking over. “Hey, sorry to interrupt, but we should get going if we want to make trivia night.”

“Right! Yeah, sorry, Rich, I need to get the studio cleaned up so I can head out.” Blair was thankful. Harry was always good at coming up with excuses for them to leave places early. Usually it was because he needed to get her home so she could fuck him, obviously now that wasn’t the case.

“Oh…alright, well, I’ll see you next week. Have a good night.” Rich looks Harry up and down before leaving.

“Thank you.” Blair sighs. “He’s a nice guy, but I’m not interested.”

“Obviously.” Harry scoffs. “Have fun with Riley.”

“You don’t wanna come with?”

“Nah, I need to get home. I have some stuff I need to do before tomorrow. Still on for Saturday?”

“Mhm.” She nods with a smile.

“Good.” He kisses her cheek. “I’ll call you Friday.”

Harry leaves and Riley helps Blair cleanup before they head out to a Panera for dinner.

“So, you two are going out on Saturday?” Riley asks her when they sit down with their food.

“Yeah, it’s sort of like a first date. I wanna make sure things feel really right with us. I have a feeling we’ll get back together officially, though.”

“Yeah? What makes you think that?” Riley smirks.

“Well…we kissed on Sunday night when he was still over. It was a really good kiss too, it was familiar, but there was still that, like, passion, you know?”

“I would love it if you got back together. I never really liked the other people he dated, and I was so excited when you both got together. He’s like the brother I never had, and I want him with someone that really cares about him. I never doubted that with you. You guys got together at a weird time in your life where you were sort of at different places. Now…well, now you might mesh better. You grew up a lot during the time you were together, I know that was tough on you both.”

“Yeah, it was.” Blair sighs, and bites into her piece of bread. “I feel like I could handle things better now. He’s been there for me during so many tough times, he’s seen me…at my absolute worst, and still loved me through all of it. I can’t wrap my head around him turning into such a playboy.”

“I couldn’t believe it myself, but I honestly don’t think he really knew how to deal with not having you around, and then…I don’t know.” Riley shakes her head. “He always wrapped it up, that’s what John told me, anyways.”

“He mentioned that to me too.” Blair rolls her eyes. “I’m not going to hold anything against him, we weren’t together. I don’t have the right to judge him about it.”

“He only wanted you, B.” Riley smiles.

“I really have missed him.” Blair smiles. “I’m really looking forward to going out with him Saturday night.” She bites her bottom lip. “Wanna come with me to Victoria’s Secret during the day? I think I should pick out something new…”

“Yeah! I’ve got a coupon to go there, actually. I need some new undies.”

“Oh, yay! We haven’t been shopping in forever.”

“I know! I hope I’m not on the road for an entire month like that again. It got old real quick.”

//

On Friday, Harry was in his office wrapping some things up, going over some paperwork. Then he looked over his calendar for Monday, just to see what meetings he had, and if he needed to do anything over the weekend.

“Mr. Styles?” Kiley, the intern training with Kate comes into his office.

“Miss Stewart, what can I do you for?” He asks, giving her his full attention. She pouts slightly at him.

“You can just call me Kiley…you call Kate by her first name.”

“I’ve known Kate for quite some time, Miss Stewart.”

“Well, we’ll get to know each other pretty well once she’s on maternity…right?”

“Most likely.” He nods. “Did you need something?”

“Yes, sorry.” She pulls a paper out of her bag. “Um, I just need you to sign off on the hours I worked this week since Kate left early. I forgot to ask her before she stepped out for her doctor’s appointment.”

“Oh, sure.” He gestures for the paper. “They’re really on you guys about the hours, huh?”

“Yeah.” She sighs. “I don’t mind, though, because I have to write a paper explaining what I did, so having an account of that will be helpful.” She shrugs. Harry hums his response as he signs the paper and hands it back to her. “Thank you…any fun plans for the weekend?”

“Just laying low tonight. I’ve got a date tomorrow, though.” He smiles.

“Oh! That’s nice.” She smiles. “Did you just meet someone?”

“No.” He shakes his head with a chuckle. “Might be starting over with my ex, which I’m pretty excited about since I’m still hopelessly in love with her.”

“Well in that case, I hope it goes super well.” She beams at him.

“Thank you, Kiley.” Her smile widens at him even more. “Feel free to head out, enjoy your weekend.”

“Thank you, Mr. Styles. I expect a full report of your date on Monday morning.”

Harry chuckles and nods as she leaves. Just when he thought his door was going to close, John enters.

“Wrap it buddy boy, we gotta meet the guys soon.”

“About that…I’m going to skip out on tonight.”

“Seriously? Why?” John frowns.

“I…I have a date tomorrow night with Blair, and-“

“You can’t be serious.” John rolls his eyes and sits down. “Why would you even entertain the idea of getting back together with her?”

“Because she seems ready for a relationship again. I still love her, and I think she still loves me. There’s still a chemistry between us, physically, so we’re going to Benson’s for a burger tomorrow to see if everything else is still there.”

“So that means you can’t come out for guy’s night?”

“You know as well as I do that guy’s night never stays guy’s night. I don’t want to be tempted by anything that could fuck me over. Besides, it wouldn’t kill me to stay in for a change. There’s a book I’ve been meaning to get back to. I wouldn’t mind just taking it easy, you guys have a good time without me.” Harry smiles at his friend. “It’s nothing personal…”

“I know.” John sighs. “You’re just fun, that’s all…” John looks down at his phone and smirks.

“Maybe you’ll meet up with that girl you see on the regular. Seems like she just texted you.”

“Maybe she did.” John nods.

“How come you don’t just date her? I’ve watched you turn down other girls to go meet up with her a dozen times.”

“It’s a little complicated. She travels a lot for work, we’re both just looking for someone familiar to hookup with right now.”

“Guess that makes sense.” Harry shrugs. “You’re pretty busy yourself”

“Exactly, so when’s around I see her more, and when she’s gone, I see other people. She does the same. We’re pretty open about it.”

“Good.” Harry smiles. “Have a beer for me tonight, yeah?”

“Alright.” John sighs and stands up. “Have fun with Blair, I guess.”

“You could sound a little more enthused.”

“I’ll be enthused if she doesn’t string you along.”

“She never strung me along.” Harry shakes his head. “We were a great team.”

“Seems like you were always doing everything for her.”

“No, she did plenty for me.”

“Babe?! I picked up a pizza!” Blair shouted as she entered Harry’s place, putting her key in the bowl by the door. “Baby?!” He wasn’t in the kitchen like she thought he’d be. She set the pizza down on the counter and walked down the hall to his home office. Her jaw dropped when she saw him knuckling at his eyes. “Harry, are you crying?” She asked softly.

“Blair.” He said, almost surprised. “Hi, I lost track of time, I’m sorry. Let’s eat.” He stood up, but she went over to him and urged him to sit.

“What happened, what’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing, baby.”

“It’s not nothing if you’re crying. Talk to me.”

“I’m just really stressed.” His voice cracked. “I was looking forward to taking over for my dad, but there’s so much other shit that’s been added to my plate that he didn’t really prepare me for. Now he’s down in Florida living it up with my mum, and I can’t even talk to him about it because I don’t want him to be disappointed in me. He’s trusting me with everything.”

“That’s a lot.” She wipes=d his tears away. “I’m so sorry you’re feeling like this.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “Is…is there anything I can do to help? Anything I can do to help take your mind off things for a bit? I brought pizza…”

“Um…yeah, I think there is something you could do for me, but it doesn’t involve food.” He stood and took her hand, leading her out to the living room. They both sat down. “Sometimes when we’re having sex…I let you take the lead, have you noticed that?”

“A little.” She shrugged. “I mean, I like that you’re not super dominating, it makes me feel safe.”

“Right, but before you I wasn’t really like that. I was always in control, but with you…I feel really safe too. So safe…that I’m able to just let everything else slip away when we’re doing what we do.”

“What are you saying exactly?”

“I…I sometimes I think I want you to really be in control. I’m not saying all the time, but I have to be in control of so many things, and I think it would be nice to not.”

“Okay, so I could ride you more if you want.”

“Well, that would be nice.” He smirked. “But I’m talking more like…like maybe you could blindfold me once in a while, or you could cuff me to the bed?” His was flushed with embarrassment. Her eyes widened as she finally started to understand what he was trying to say. “I’ve totally freaked you out, haven’t I? I know that stuff isn’t for everyone. I was just thinking we’ve been together a while now-“

“Harry, calm down.” She smiled, squeezing his hand. “I think it’s kind of hot that you wanna explore some different things.”

“You do?”

“Mhm.” She nodded. “I…just don’t ask me to, like, whip you or anything. I don’t think I could hurt you.”

“No, I’m not looking for pain.” He chuckled. “I just…wanna clear my head sometimes, that’s all.”

“Okay, I think I could be into that. You know how much I love all your ties, I’d love to tie you up with them.” She grinned, and he groaned softly.

“What do you say we leave the pizza for later, and we head into the bedroom to explore a little bit?”

“I say we’re in for a fantastic weekend.”

“Whatever you say man.” John says. “See you Monday.” John leaves Harry’s office, and Harry sighs. He never told anyone about what he and Blair did, it was no one’s business. He certainly wasn’t going to let it slip now.

//

At around 10AM Saturday morning, Blair picked up Riley so they could go shopping. Riley had bags under her eyes, and a fresh hickey on her neck. Blair’s mouth fell open the second Riley got in the car.

“Don’t.” Riley mumbles.

“I didn’t say anything.” Blair chuckles.

“But I know what you’re thinking.”

“Did you meet up with John last night?”

“Yeah, I guess Harry didn’t feel like going out last night, so I met up with him at some bar, and then he came back with me to my place.”

“Oh shit, is still there?”

“No, he left at, like, seven.” Riley rolls her eyes. “But not before he fucked me again.” She shakes her head. “We’ve fucked so many times, I don’t know how he’s not sick of me yet, or how I’m not sick of him.”

“Maybe it’s a sign you two should be more.” Blair smirks.

“I mean, we’re basically just in an open relationship, that’s the way I look at it anyways.” She shrugs. “We were up most of the night.” She yawns loudly.

“You could have stayed home.” Blair frowns as she keeps her eyes on the road.

“No, it’s okay, I wanted to go shopping with you.”

The girls make their way to a Victoria’s Secret, and start shopping around. Just as Riley hoped, there was an underwear sale. Blair indulged in it as well. Nothing wrong with getting some new undies to replace some old ones.

“Oh, these are cute!” Blair says, holding up a cheeky pair of panties.

“Yeah! I’ve been way more into the lace cheeky bottoms instead of thongs lately.”

“Me too! It’s way more comfortable. To be honest, I wear boxers a lot around my apartment. They’re more breathable than athletic shorts, and they don’t ride up.”

“Of course men have more comfortable underwear than us.” Riley sighs heavily. “Oh! Look at these white ones! Can never have too many white pairs.”

“Snag me a pair, please.”

Once the girls are done picking out their underwear, and a couple of bras that were two $50 (yes, way overpriced, but necessary), they head to the part of the store where the lingerie was.

“What are you looking for exactly?” Riley asks as she looks over some babydoll nighties.

“I don’t know, nothing crazy, but if things go well tonight, which I think they will, I wanna surprise him with something fun.”

“You’d really jump into bed with him right away?” There was no judgement in Riley’s voice, more so surprise.

“I mean…I know he’s your cousin and all, but he’s pretty hard to resist, Riles. He had me wrapped around his finger from the second we met.”

“Fair enough.” Riley shrugs. “I might try one of these on…surprise John one of these nights.”

The girls giggle as they pick out different things. Blair ends up finding a black lace bralette and matching panties that she thinks will work well under an outfit. The only thing was the bralette didn’t have any support, like, at all, but she was able to adjust the straps on it a bit to give her a slight lift.

“God, I wish I danced as a kid.” Blair huffs as she leaves the dressing room to meet Riley out at the register line.

“Why?”

“Because then maybe I wouldn’t have these fucking honkers on my chest. I’d love to be able to wear a bralette without worrying. My boobs are so saggy, I look like a granny when I don’t have the proper support.”

“You’re being dramatic.” Riley chuckles.

“Easy for you to say, Miss B Cup.”

“Hey, I’d kill to have boobs like yours. I always feel like mine are too small. I have to wear pushups all the time. Besides, your boobs are not saggy, they just sit a little lower on your chest.”

“When I really started dancing I thought they’d get smaller since I was working out all the time, but nope. The worst part is, it’s all right here.” She lifts her arm slightly and rubs just under her armpit. “I’m only a C, but I feel like a double D sometimes when I put a bra on, it takes all the side boob to the front.” Blair puts her things up on the counter, and Riley goes to the next register.

“Find everything okay?” The girl behind the register asks.

“Mhm.” Blair smiles. “I have some coupons too.” She takes her phone out so the girl can scan the barcodes on Blair’s screen.

“Oh, that’s a good one! Took off 25% of your total.” The girl puts everything into a bag for Blair, and she heads out with Riley.

“So, when will John get to see that babydoll?” Blair smirks at Riley.

“When I feel like he deserves it.” Riley grins. “If he invites me over tonight, I might bring it with me.”

“Do you usually see him two nights in a row?”

“Sometimes, but not often. I think he missed me a little since I was gone for so long. Kinda missed him too. He told me he’d call me later today.” She shrugs.

The girls grab a quick lunch before heading home. Blair didn’t want to eat anything too heavy since she was going to be eating out for dinner, so she just had a salad. She spent some time doing some social media work for her business, and then spent some time putting a new dance together. Her customers had been asking for some more throwbacks, so she was crafting some choreography to a couple of Ricky Martin songs. They could be used for the high intensity days. She always recorded herself so she could go back later to review the steps.

When she was done she was drenched in sweat, so she hops into the shower to freshen up. She sort of ends up pampering herself a bit. She shaved her legs, so she massaged some lotion into them, and used some cocoa butter on her thighs because she liked the way it smelled. After that, she grabbed her electric razor to trip her bikini line, having exfoliated first in the shower, so she was plenty smooth where she wanted to be. She spritzes some perfume into the air and walks through it, then she gets to work on her hair. She had been sporting a shoulder length look lately. Her hair used to be really long in college, but in recent years she had been keeping it a tad shorter. It was up in a braid or bun most days, but she decides to wear it down tonight. She puts on some makeup, and then goes through her closet to find something to wear over her new lingerie. She decides on a pair of black jeans that could easily be word with some booties. She pulls on a blush pink tank top and a tan cardigan to complete the look. You could just see the lace top of the bralette, and she sort of liked that look. Her phone goes off just as she’s putting some lipstick on.

“Hello?” She answers brightly.

“Hey, baby, I’m downstairs.”

“Okay, be down in a sec!” She throws some makeup remover wipes into her bag, and a spare toothbrush, then she heads out. Again, she didn’t quite know what would happen tonight, but she wanted to be prepared. Harry was standing outside his car. He smiles when he sees her.

“Hi.” He says, and opens the car door for her.

“Hi, thanks.” She smiles back and gets inside. They head towards Benson’s, being silent in the car at first. “How was your week?” She asks him.

“Good, had a pretty good workout Wednesday.” He grins, looking at her for a moment before looking back at the road. It makes Blair giggle. “Work wasn’t too stressful for a change, although I’m getting anxious about Kate going on maternity leave.”

“Is the intern no good?”

“No, she just doesn’t have a lot of experience. She’ll get the hang of it.” He shrugs. “How was your week, how are you feeling?”

“I’m okay. I spoke with my mom last night, she’s doing alright. My aunt’s been staying with her, so that’s good.”

“Do you think she’ll sell the house?”

“Nah, she likes where she lives, but I think she’s going to paint and change a few things so it doesn’t feel like such a ghost town, you know?”

“Makes sense.” Harry nods. “I know I’ve offered a ton, but if she needs any help with anything, don’t be afraid to ask. I can hold my own with a paintbrush.”

“Thank you, Harry, that’s very sweet.” She gives his shoulder a squeeze. “It was really nice having you in class Wednesday.” She says shyly.

“Yeah? Would you be opposed if I started coming regularly again?”

“Not at all, I’d really like it, actually.” She smiles. “It…it made it easier to wait to see you tonight.” She blushes, and he reaches for one of her hands. He brings it to his lips to kiss her knuckles.

“You’re cute.” He tells her, resting their hands on the console, not letting go at all.

They get to Benson’s, and get seated in a booth. Harry hesitates for a moment, desperately wanting to sit next to her, but he thinks that might be too much too soon, so he sits across from her. She gives him a funny look.

“What?” He asks.

“Nothing…you’re just far away. You usually sit next to me.”

“I didn’t know if you wanted me to.”

“I want you to.” Harry smiles, stands back up, and slides in next to her. She hooks her arms around his and rests her cheek on his shoulder. “Much better.” She sighs. He kisses the top of her head, and a waitress comes over.

“Evening, folks, are you expecting anyone else?” She asks.

“No, love, it’s just us.” Harry says to her, squinting at her nametag. “Becky, is it?”

“Y-yes.” She clears her throat. “Can I get you started with any drinks or appetizers?”

“Definitely two waters.” Blair begins. “And I’ll have a vodka-tonic, please.”

“I’ll have the same.” Harry says. “Do you want an app?” He asks Blair.

“No, I think just the burger will be good.”

“Right, think we’re ready to order dinner.” Harry says to Becky.

“Great! What can I get you?”

“I’ll have the turkey burger with cheddar cheese and sautéed mushrooms.” Blair says.

“And I’ll have veggie burger with avocado.” Harry says.

“Sounds good, I’ll be right back with your drinks.” Becky says, taking their menus before walking away.

“Just a veggie burger?” Blair asks Harry.

“Yeah, I’ve been craving a good one lately, and they make the best here.”

“Very true.” She nods. Becky comes back over with the drinks, and sets them on the table. “So…do anything fun last night?”

“I stayed in.” Harry says, before taking a sip of his drink. “Got caught up on a book I’ve been reading, watched a little TV, nothing special.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t go out with your friends. Isn’t Friday usually your guy’s night?”

“Yeah, I just felt like skipping last night.” He shrugs. “What about you, what did you do?”

“I ran errands all day, and then went to bed early so I could get up for my early classes this morning. Then Riley and I went shopping, and then I did some work at my place. Got ready to go out with you.” She shrugs.

“What does Riley have to say about all this?”

“She’s happy that we’re entertaining the idea of getting back together.” Blair chuckles and sips her drink. “Did you tell anyone we were going out tonight?”

“Mentioned it to my intern…and to John. He wasn’t so enthused.” Harry rolls his eyes.

“He’s never liked me, and I literally have no idea why.”

“Think he was just jealous that I snagged someone as gorgeous and bright as you.” Harry grins. “You know, when we first got together a ton of people gave me shit because you were still in school.”

“I was in my last semester, and I was twenty-one, it wasn’t like I was a child.” Blair scoffs.

“That’s what I said! It wasn’t like I was looking for someone younger than me, it just happened.”

“We just clicked right away, nothing wrong with that.” She inches a little closer to him, her ankle hooking around his under the table.

“Not at all.” His lips graze over hers, but their food is brought over to the table before they can really kiss.

They both giggle and dig into their food, each moaning out at the taste. They continue to talk about things, catching each other on the last year that they weren’t in one another’s lives. It felt easy and natural.

“I don’t wanna be too forward, but would you like to come back to mine when we’re done?” Harry asks.

“I’d like that.” She nods. “Got any sweets at home?”

“Mhm, I’ve got those chewy chocolate chip cookies you like so much.”

“This night just keeps getting better and better.” She smiles. When the check comes, they both reach for it.

“Blair, let go of the check.”

“No, I wanna pay for dinner.”

“I insist, let me pay.”

“Harry, I don’t want you always paying for everything, come on.”

“Fine, can we at least split it?”

“Ugh, fine.” She slaps her card down and so does he.

“So fucking irritating when you do that.” He huffs.

“No, what’s irritating is that you think I can’t pay for stuff.”

“That’s not what this is! I just like paying for our dates, it’s gentlemanly.”

“Yeah, well, it makes me feel like shit.” Becky comes to grabs the cards, and tells them she’ll be right back. “I’m doing well for myself now, I want things to be more equal. I’m not with you for your money.”

“I know you’re not, baby…I just…I can’t help that I wanna spoil you rotten.” He presses his forehead to hers, and she sighs before pecking his lips quickly.

“There are plenty of other ways you can do that, Harry.”

“Am I gonna have the chance?” Becky comes back with their cards, and they both sign their slips before sliding out of the booth. She takes his hand in hers as they walk out.

“Yes.” She says as they both get into the car. “I…I think wanna see where this goes with you, babe. I feel like I’m really ready for you now…”

“That means the world to me, Blair.” Her bottom lip starts to quiver, and he frowns. “Hey, why are you crying?” He reaches to caress her cheek.

“I just can’t believe you basically were waiting for me all this time.” She sniffles. “I feel so shitty. And I feel even shittier because I’m jealous of all the other people you slept with that we weren’t together.”

“Baby.” Harry sighs. “I was so in love with you, still am, none of them meant anything. I’m sorry you feel hurt by it. You don’t need to worry about it now, though, I’m all yours.” Her hand grips the collar of his shirt and she tugs him close to her, only a few centimeters apart.

“Mine.” She says, eyes darkening before her lips crash against his. She nips and sucks at his bottom lip as his hands cup her cheeks, trying to get even closer.

“Fuck.” He breathes, putting his keys in the ignition. “Need to get you home.” He pulls onto the street, and zips them home. His hand grips her thigh the entire time, squeezing it occasionally.

“Thought of you last weekend in the shower.” She says, shifting on her side a little. “Thought of the first time we had sex in the shower.” Her breath is on his ear now, and she nibbles on his lobe.

“Blair.” He warns, but she keeps going, kissing on his neck.

“Made me feel so good, always make me feel good.”

“Blair, I’m going to crash the car, just sit patiently, please.” She sits back normally in her seat. “Thank you.” He sighs. “So, you really thought of me?”

“It was hard not to with you leaving me breakfast.” She pouts at him. “So sweet of you, and I haven’t had a chance to even reward you for being so good to me.”

“You’re still into all that?” He asks cautiously.

“Only for you…do you still like it?”

“Only if it’s you. I told you I didn’t do that with anyone else.”

“You still trust me enough?”

“Course I do, baby.” He reaches for her hand to intertwine their fingers. He drives a little faster to his place, and they finally reach it. “Gonna take care of you first, and then you can do me, alright?”

“Whatever you want, babe.”

They get up to his place, somehow keeping their hands to themselves in the elevator. Before she knows it, Harry’s slamming Blair against the wall of his front hallway, attacking her neck with his lips.

“Gonna mark you up.” He says as he sucks on her skin. “Then everyone will know you’re taken again.”

She whimpers as her response, and pushes his head further into her neck. She wiggles out of her cardigan, and wraps her arms around his neck.

“Jump.” He grunts into her ear, and she does so, wrapping her legs around his waist so he can carry her to his bedroom. He sets her down on the bed, letting her get her shoes off. He does the same before kneeing onto the bed. She takes her tank top off, and his mouth waters at the sight of the bralette. “Christ.” He breathes as he gropes her supple breasts. “Missed these.” He sucks on her nipple through the lace, and her head rolls back. He does the same to the other one, getting it nice and pebbled. One of his hands slides down between her legs and he whimpers. “Need to get these off you, that okay?”

“Mhm, yeah, please.”

He undoes her button and zipper, yanking the jeans off of her. His eyes widen when he sees the matching panties.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Blair. Are these new?”

“Yeah, bought them today, just for you.” She props herself up on her elbows. “Wouldn’t mind you taking them off, though.”

Harry nearly growls as he tugs them down her legs. His hands slide up and down her smooth skin, having missed the feeling of her skin on his. He spreads her legs apart, and starts leaving open mouthed kisses on her inner thighs, sucking some nasty bruises into them. Blair clutches at his blankets and grits her teeth while he has his fun marking her up.

“Can I?” He asks, looking up at her. “Can I taste you?”

“Yes, of course you can.” She reaches forward to push his hair back, and he smiles at her before licking up her slit.

He licks and sucks all around her folds before working his tongue around her clit, sucking on it briefly before bringing his thumb to it. He licks into her center, making her mewl as he essentially just makes out sloppily with the area.

“Yes, fuck.” Her hands rake through his hair. “Feels so good, Harry.” She grinds against his face, and he moans against her. “Harry, fingers, please, use your fingers.” She whines.

He lifts his head from her, and reaches his hand up to her so she can suck on his fingers. She does so happily, and then he slips two fingers inside her. She gasps and lets her body go slack against the bed.

“Baby, shit, you’re so fucking tight, does it hurt?”

“No, feels so god, m’so wet.”

“I know, you’re dripping.” He pulls his fingers out and sucks on them, moaning again before slipping them back inside to the knuckle.

“R-right there.” She whimpers. Her mouth was open, body writhing under his, having not been touched by another man in almost a year, her body was reacting on overdrive. Her back was arching, and she was pushing her head further into the mattress. “Harry, Harry!” She screams as she comes around his fingers, and he fucks her through it, sucking on her clit to prolong it. As she starts to come down he sits up, and starts taking his shirt off. “Fuck, I’m gonna give it to you so good.” She sits up and watches he takes his clothes off. She takes her bralette off, and tosses it on the floor.

“How do you want me?”

“That depends…um…what would you like me to do? Like, how…how hard do you wanna go tonight?”

“I wanna be able to touch you since it’s been so long, and I wanna be able to look at you.”

“Alright, so we can just keep it sweet and easy, save the rest for another time.”

“Yeah…work back up to it.”

“Get on your back, m’gonna ride you.”

Harry gets himself situated, sitting up against the headboard. Blair raises an eyebrow at him.

“Just wanna be as close as possible tonight, baby.��

“Okay.” She smiles, and gets herself on his lap.

“Are you still on the pill?”

“Mhm, are you okay to not use a condom?”

“Definitely don’t want to. Need feel you.”

“Need to feel you too.”

She grips his hard cock, giving it a few pumps before she guides it inside herself. Her mouth falls open as she feels him stretch her out. Harry looks down and watches as she swallows him whole. They both moan out once he’s full inside her. Her fingernails dig into his shoulders as she gets adjusted to him. His hands squeeze at her hips and ass.

“Shit, Harry.” She presses her forehead to his. “Missed you so much.”

“Missed you too.” He cups her cheeks and kisses her as she starts to slowly rock on and off him. His tongue slips into her mouth, and she grips at his back as she kisses him back. “You feel so fucking good.” He says before biting her bottom lip, sucking on it.

She whimpers and moves herself a little faster on him. She grinds herself against him, feeling the friction on her clit start to form. His arms wrap around her back, his fingers digging into her skin.

“Move with me.” She says into his ear before nibbling on it.

He groans as he starts to thrust up into her. She starts to bounce up and down him, moving his hands to her hips. He watches as her breasts bounce in front of his face, and he leans in to kiss and suck on them. Her head rolls back with pleasure. She wanted to feel his tongue all over her. She brings two fingers to his mouth, and he takes them in quickly. He looks up at her as he sucks on them, swirling his tongue around them, and nipping at the pads of them. She takes them away to rub at her clit.

He growls, and moves to pin her on her back, surprising her completely. He was never like this in bed with her. She looks up at him with wide eyes as he throws one of her legs over his shoulder, and replaces her fingers with his own. She groans at his touch. He was driving himself in so much deeper and she could barely handle it.

“Okay?” He asks her, panting slightly.

“Mhm, it’s good, so good.” One of her hands goes to the back of his neck, pulling him down for a sloppy kiss. They breathe each other in and out once they both start panting. “Harry, fuck, I’m so close.” She squeezes around him and he bites down on her shoulder.

“Blair.” He moans into her ear. “Can I come inside you?”

“Yes! Fuck, yes, please!” She screams as she’s coming again, feeling even more turned on when she feels Harry’s hot come start to fill her up. She grinds her hips towards his trying to make her orgasm last as long as possible. “Love it when you fill me up, feels so good.” She says as she continues to squeeze around him.

He slots his mouth over hers as they both start to come down. Their tongues mold together as they kiss lazily. He’s slow to pull out, but he was too sensitive to stay inside her any longer. She squeezes her legs closed to try to not make a mess. Harry scoops Blair up quickly bridal style to carry her to the bathroom, setting her down gently on the toilet, and leaving her to do her business. When she walks out of the bathroom, he’s laying on his bed in a fresh pair of boxers with a dreamy smile on his face. She climbs onto the bed and lays in between his legs, resting her head on his tummy. She buries her face into his soft skin while he starts to card through her mussed up hair.

“So…we’re really back together?” He asks after a few moment of peaceful silence. She looks up at him with a smile on her face.

“Yeah, I really wanna be your girlfriend again.”

“You have no idea how happy I feel right now.” He continues to play with her hair as she sets her head back down.

“You’ve never really taken control like that before…I kinda liked it.” She peers up at him again, grinning. “Maybe I should see what being the sub feels like sometime.”

“Oh, baby, I don’t know if I could switch like that. Don’t think I’d get much pleasure in making you wait for things. Think I’d give in the second you asked for something.” He chuckles.

“You’re so cute, Harry, but I understand what you’re saying. I don’t mind being the one to do that stuff when you really need it, babe.” She moves further up his body so she can be closer to his face. “Do you think in a bit when you’re ready to go again we could…bring out some of your ties?”

“Feel like I’m already bloating back up, fuck.” He groans, and kisses her.

“You know what I’ve really missed doing with you?” She says, moving her lips to the shell of his ear.

“What, baby?”

“Fucking that tight hole of yours.” She says lowly, and he whimpers.

“Yes.” He breathes, and she looks at him. “Still have everything, it just hasn’t been used in a while.”

“Would you really wanna get into all of that tonight? I mean, I’m game if you are…you seemed hesitant before.”

“I just wanted to feel really close with you before, but now that we’ve got that out of our system I’m definitely up for it.” He pecks her lips. “We’ve got the rest of the weekend to do all we want.”

“Mmm, and the weekend after that, and the weekend after that, and maybe sometimes during the middle of the week. Oh! Remember when I used to come to your office at work, and I’d let you bend me over your desk, god, that was always so hot.”

“Or that time we screwed in that bathroom at your studio?” His smile was incredibly mischievous.

“Or the times you sit me up on the counter in your kitchen and fuck me?”

“Or the time you bent me over my own desk her here?”

“I think it’s time we make some new memories.” She says, getting off of him, and extending her hand out to him for him to follow.

“Couldn’t agree with you more.”

Blair leads them inside Harry’s walk in closet where he kept his box of toys. It was still in the same spot as always. She pops the lid off and they both smile at each other.

“How long do you think I could edge you for?” She asks him.

“Um, I should be okay to go for a while since I already came.”

“Excellent.” She picks up a cock ring, the kind that vibrates. “We’ve got a lot of time to make up for.”

[wordsinwinters]

Then Again, Chapter 28: Secrets of a Teacher’s Pet

Summary: After an intense fight and a forced-to-share-the-bed situation during their junior year decathlon trip, Peter and the Reader examine their faults and failings. As they attempt to fix their mistakes and improve their friendship, that friendship quickly begins to evolve into something else. Masterlist (with AO3 links) Betas: @fanboyswhereare-you @girl-tips-from-satan @lilbeatlebear

Then Again, Chapter 28: Secrets of a Teacher's Pet

(Word count: 4,134) Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24, Part 25, Part 26, Part 27, Part 28, Part 29, High school lunches are abominable, and should be illegal. I swear, what passes for pizza, macaroni, and even grilled cheese might as well be scraps of cardboard stuffed with some sticky yellow substance of unknown origins, as opposed to anything healthy or vaguely edible. The vegetables available aren’t much better: they give off the look and odor of something that’s been canned for a few hundred years before being briefly stuck in a microwave and dropped into a metal pan. Well, maybe that’s an exaggeration. They’re just super bland and tasteless. But don’t get me started on the very real danger of the milk that’s required with cost-reduced or free meals. After getting one that’s curdled like cottage cheese or a slimy, soupy sort of solid, you learn not to trust them. A lot of kids take them because they have to and immediately dump them into a garbage can on the way to their table. The bagged apple slices aren’t too terrible though, given that the flavor hasn’t been boiled or steamed out of them and there’s no reason to doubt what they’re made of. Luckily for me, Peter’s gifted stash of snacks in my locker from yesterday held over to today and I’ve been eating enough during breaks that I’m only hungry enough for the apples, able to avoid all the other barely tolerable options for once. I’m as grateful for that fact as I was happily surprised to find he managed to remember and pick out my favorites. (Michelle probably helped him.)

Walking to the cafeteria ten minutes late is an uncharacteristically peaceful experience. The usual, deafening current of hundreds of teenagers rushing to their next class has been replaced by a trickling stream of occasional wanderers strolling along with hall passes lightly held in hand. It’s a calming change of pace. Still, as I draw closer to the cafeteria, the sounds of classes beginning behind closed doors grow softer, slowly overlapped by the swelling chaos of first lunch. It’s funny how approaching this part of the school during lunch feels like walking into a roaring tsunami of cacophony, but once you’re inside it talking with your friends, the enormity of it muffles into a tame tide, as if an invisible barrier has stitched itself together around the table. (At least if you’ve had enough sleep, that is. After another long night of texting with Peter, I’m not sure I’ll be able to block out much of anything.) By the time I turn the corner of the last hallway and head to the lunch line, most people already have their food and are sitting at their normal tables — my friends included — so it takes no time at all to maneuver through the pizza side. I grab a bag of apple slices from the tin pan beside the soft pretzel warmer and quickly get to the register. The lunch lady punches in the code for the apples as I swipe my ID card and type in my passcode, four little beeps quietly popping up through the bursting bubble of cafeteria noise. Like every day, I thank her and she offers me a tired nod in response. Then I make my typical path toward my friends sitting in the middle-ish back area. A few tables away from Michelle, Peter, and Ned, more toward the front, Abe and Sally are sitting with their other friends, including Flash. That must mean Monday was an anomaly like I suspected— just a chance to collect the last morsels of gossip about the trip before everyone slid back into our normal school routines. (Surprisingly, neither of them asked about or alluded to the pool incident, thank god, though Flash must’ve told Abe about the accidental blackmail thing because Abe whisper-asked me about it once no one was paying attention. As soon as I said it wasn’t a big deal and I’d rather Mr. Harrington never hear a word about any of it, he nodded and let it go with a subtle “OK” hand motion.) Suddenly, Peter whips his head around and catches my eye. He jumps out of his seat and rushes to meet me halfway. “Hey!” he says, smiling and slightly breathless a moment later, hair lightly ruffled from the mini-jog. “How come you’re late? Ned said you stayed after class, but he didn’t know why.” Then, looking at the lone bag of apple wedges in my hand, “And where’s the rest of your food?” As we make eye contact again, I try to ignore the swooping sensation in my stomach: I have been trying, really trying, to get used to his energy the last few days — to his wider smiles and the abrupt return of his sincerity — but his spontaneous excitement in moments like this still causes butterflies, as much as I resent the fact. Even so, his energy is infectious and, undeniably, pleasant. I find my lips itching to mirror his bare smile, and do my best to hold it back. “I stayed back to talk to Profé,” I explain as we walk together, “about the skit that’s due on Friday. I wanted to see if my group could just perform it for her tomorrow while everyone’s out recording theirs.” I glance at him and the crinkle around his eyes makes it clear he knows me too well. “You mean get out of having to watch your own video on Friday.” “Maybe.” I keep my gaze on our table as we approach it, shrugging and hoping my guilty-as-charged grin isn’t too obvious. The deal I made with Profé is normal for the two of us. It’s usually the group members who make it more of a struggle, refusing to cooperate because they’d rather procrastinate than memorize their lines a day early. (If they’re even willing to memorize their lines. 75% of the class just reads from a paper someone else has to hold up behind whatever phone or iPad they use to record it— even though Profé

takes off 5% of their total project grade if she catches it. And she always does.) Luckily, my group for this one was just as happy as me to get out of the awkward recording process and the even more agonizing experience of watching it on the whiteboard the following day, forced to sit still and confront our stale acting and terrible, underdeveloped accents. “What’d she say?” “She said it’s fine,” I say, climbing into my seat across from Ned and Michelle as Peter sits beside me. “As long as I help her grade the quizzes from her first year class once we finish.” Ned and Michelle let their conversation about Chemistry fizzle out to join ours. “Such a teacher’s pet,” Ned says with a wave of his hand. “Always manipulating the system for your own gain.” I give him a sarcastically sour look. “If you made fewer jokes like that, I could still be grading ours.” Last month, Ned just had to make a comment about me changing his test answers. As much as Profé likes me and would be happy to hire me as a personal assistant, she couldn’t keep handing me my friends’ and classmates’ assignments after he said that in front of everyone, which is fair. Plus, even though I enjoy helping her, it’s nice to have more time to socialize, especially since Ned, Betty, and I sit next to each other. It also helped me feel less guilty, seeing as I had actually done it. “But it wasn’t a joke, right?” Michelle clarifies, reading my mind. “You did change Ned’s answers for him.” Ned sighs, glancing down at his plate to spear a broccoli floret with his fork. “And I should’ve been more grateful, I know.” He looks back up, clearly amused. “But it’s just so funny to freak you out.” “Funny to you, maybe.” Objectively, it was pretty funny. I was walking up to Profé’s desk to hand in the stack of freshly graded tests when he very loudly asked me to change his answers on the next quiz too — which a few people laughed at, assuming it couldn’t be true if he had blurted it out — and it took me so off-guard that I turned and smacked right into someone else’s desk, hard enough it felt like I cracked my hip bone on it, triggering an ill-timed “Jesus!” Immediately, someone called out, “It’s pronounced Hay-soos in this class!” Even I could recognize the humor in it, once the pain had passed a minute later. Profé was still shaking her head in pity as I hobbled over and handed her the papers. Her tone of voice conveyed a sort of disappointment and inconvenience when she said that, well, maybe it’d be better if I didn’t grade this class’s work anymore. “Wait, for real?” Peter asks, brow twisted into a quizzical disbelief. “You’ve never done that for me.” Michelle’s mouth quirks into a (prideful?) smirk. “She’s done it for me.” He looks between the two of us, surprised. “You’re not in my Spanish class, though,” I tell Peter as I open my bag of apples, hoping the meager defense will assuage him. “Neither is Michelle!” “That was for our World History class.” “And AP Psych that one time,” I admit reflexively, remembering. I reach over to her plate and swap a few fries for a slice of apple. “Wow, okay then. I see how it is.” Peter leans back as if against an imaginary wall, squinting at me, eyes glinting with teasing sarcasm. Like I said before, as much as I’m trying to get used to our new dynamics, it’s hard to pretend this playful attitude isn’t incredibly attractive; we’ve always teased each other, but something about the nature of it has shifted. It’s more fun than before. I lick my lips to get rid of the salt from the fries and ignore him. Meanwhile, Michelle takes the apple piece I gave her and holds it like a cigarette. “Not to defend the cheating, lying, and overall academic fraud she’s committed,” she says, “but she was responsible for messing up my World History test right before we took it.” She bites the apple and chews for a moment. “We were quizzing each other on our way in and she said Genghis Khan went— what was it? As far west in Europe as Germany and as far east as Lebanon in the Middle East.” “Instead of Poland and the Levant,” I

repeat, the words having haunted me for weeks afterward, the answer seared into my memory since. “But Poland has been taken over by Germany at different points and it was fragmented when he got there. Plus, Lebanon is in the Levant, so I wasn’t totally wrong.” Michelle makes an “Exactly” gesture with her left hand. “And that’s why she corrected her mistake on my paper.” She notices me about to sneak more fries off her plate and swats my hand away. “And since I didn’t change my own answer,” I say, returning to my own food, “it wasn’t really cheating.” “Ha.” Her laugh is flat, but bright. “Only because you used a pen to take the test and were too scared he’d notice a scratched out answer that wasn’t there before.” Before I can (in bad faith) refute that, Peter interrupts. “Wait, what about the Psych one?” I pause and smile, remembering one of the reasons I love our Psychology teacher. “It was just an extra credit question: ‘Who is my celebrity crush?’ Michelle wrote Antonio Banderas instead of Dwayne Johnson. It was only half a point. Antonio Banderas is her mom’s crush, which she talked about in class a bunch of times, not hers. Easy to mix up.” “And Ned’s Spanish quiz?” Ned coughs on a bite of spaghetti he just took, quickly taking a drink of water to recover. If he’s nervous about me explaining that one, I’m surprised. He and Peter usually tell each other everything, and the truth isn’t really embarrassing anyway. “You wanna cover that one?” I ask him, just in case. “Nah. Go ahead,” he shrugs, unbothered. That’s more normal. A noodle must’ve just gone down the wrong way. “It was a few weeks ago,” I explain, “when we first started making our plans to study for the decathlon, I think? Ned was super stressed with it all and had a bad case of test anxiety. He told me he knew the right answers, he just freaked out in the moment.” Peter’s eyebrows raise and he looks pointedly at Ned, whose lips are twitching. “Ned doesn’t get test anxiety,” he says, staring at him. “I think I remember that, actually. He just didn’t study. He stayed up all night and then freaked out in the morning saying he was gonna fail.” Before I can react, Ned erupts into the same giggles I heard from across the classroom when I smacked into that desk. Michelle’s eyebrows lift, though she seems unsurprised; if anything, her expression is practically a mental handshake of congratulations to Ned for successfully cheating the system. (The system being me.) “Okay, okay!” He puts his hands up to defend himself. “I lied, I know, and that’s bad, it’s a bad thing to do. But my GPA, my chances for college admissions, shouldn’t suffer because I’m bad at conjugating verbs in a third language.” He turns his head toward Peter. “And I did want to study more, but someone convinced me to play video games that night instead.” The attention of the debate swiftly turns away from the ethics of test answer “editing” to which of them is more likely to put video games above school work. As the boys argue, Michelle and I continue eating in relaxed silence. Even though the two of us have been texting and talking less the last couple days now that my conversations with Peter have become more time-consuming, we’ve settled back into our usual, stable friendship without any lingering oddness from the weekend. Thank goodness. My eyes flit to her at the thought, then quickly back to the boys. As they do, a gentle wave of comfort and humming warmth envelopes me. It’s a new sensation, one that’s easy to sink into and strange to explain. (And randomly recurring since Sunday morning.) Although it’s similar to the solace I feel when I appreciate that Michelle (and Ned) won’t be abandoning me anytime soon, like I briefly assumed over the weekend, I’d be lying if I didn’t own up to the fact it’s undeniably reserved for Peter. It’s been happening here and there during the most unexpected moments ever since we apologized to each other that morning. (This back-and-forth debate between him and Ned, which now involves them citing specific dates and exact hours of video game

playing, for example, isn’t exactly heart-warming or intriguing enough that it should warrant this feeling, yet here I am.) At first, I thought the sensation was just the sheer relief of reconciliation after a shitty, hellish night. But now I’m not so sure. It’s complicated, of course, to say the least. After spending so long desperately trying and failing to shove down this crush, my anxiety surrounding Peter and how this all might end, it doesn’t make sense to feel so… normal. The months I spent begging my own brain to avoid thinking about him, only to fail miserably and obsess over how, inevitably, the best outcome could only be private pain while the best bad option, if I was found out, would be a simple unraveling of fragile humiliation that Peter would clumsily (and apologetically) inflict— those months were like being a small pet in a washing machine: drowning, jerked around, disoriented, and in general torment. This crush has been one colossal Sisyphean self-inflicted torture session after the next. And yet, somehow, I’m suddenly alright. The danger has passed and I’m breathing just fine. Sure, I’m still nervous around him more often than not, and flustered, cautious, and even anxious at times, but it’s not nearly as overwhelming as before. It’s like most of the frightened, flighty energy this crush has plagued me with since the beginning has transformed into something less excruciating. Something that might border on exciting if I let it. It’s safe, above all else. Infinitely closer to safety than anything I’ve felt before, and certainly a thousand times more stable than that frozen, starless abyss I felt like I was staring into this weekend. To put it simply: my nerves have floated down to a reasonable level. Even if I still feel like I’m walking a tightrope some of the time, the rope is only a foot above soft-grassed ground rather than tied between skyscrapers. And since I’m less busy being worried, I evidently have more time to, as May would say, stay grounded and enjoy the moment. It feels like warm sunshine. That’s it. Safety and warmth. Anyway, suffice it to say that things are good between us. So much so that we’ve barely had a break in conversation since our fight. Between passing notes in the classes we have together, talking during lunch, and the obscene amount of texting we’ve done the last few days, it really does feel like being in a “friendship bootcamp,” like Ned and Michelle keep calling it. Especially because a big portion of our conversations has been Peter asking bizarre, random questions, like my opinion on Harry Houdini or if I know anyone who could get us fake IDs. (Each day I try to answer them as fully as possible with zero context. I gave up asking “Why?” and “What for?” early on; he would just text back things like, “wouldn’t you like to know, weatherboy?” or “you’ll find out later” or “I’m writing a memoir about you, duh.”) If it were anyone else, the sheer frequency of such vague texts might’ve aggravated me; instead, I found myself stifling laughter in bed until three in the morning Monday night, then 1 a.m. last ni— this morning. Peter and I have always enjoyed antagonizing Ned and Michelle on our own, so much so that, comparatively, we’ve always tended to be more civil (if not distant) to each other than either of them. Without the filter of them between us, our texting quickly became a tug-of-war of jokes, insults, and other teasing. In fact— “Hello? You there?” Peter’s waving his hand in front of my face. “You didn’t answer my other question.” I shake myself out of the mental hole I’ve been falling through the last few minutes and apologize for zoning out, only now realizing that Michelle and Ned have moved on to a discussion on the Spanish colonization of the Philippines and consequent linguistic history between Tagalog, Filipino, and Spanish. “Peter,” I say after a short yawn. “I think you’ve set a record for how many questions a person can ask in a day. Which one are you referring to?” I start to pull my phone out of my pocket to check my texts from him,

wondering what might’ve gotten lost in the waterfall of messages we’ve sent to each other lately. But he puts his index finger on the table, or rather, on the empty plastic bag that used to contain the apple Michelle and I finished a minute ago. “Where’s the rest of your food?” he specifies. “You and Michelle aren’t on any hunger strikes I don’t know about, right?” I roll my eyes. “I’ve been eating all morning, actually,” I say, returning his sarcasm. “A bunch of my favorite snacks somehow showed up in my locker. Weird, right?” “Super weird,” he says, nodding. “How’d someone get into your locker?” I pause. “That’s a good question. How did you get into it?” He grins. “Same way you got into mine on Friday.” He tips his head towards Michelle. “One of our friends pays way more attention to detail than anyone on the planet, and knows all of our codes.” Without breaking her eye contact with Ned, Michelle sticks her hand directly in front of Peter’s face. “Don’t bring me into whatever you guys are doing.” After a flash of middle finger, she puts her hand back down on the table and goes back to telling Ned off. “Really though,” I say, meeting his eyes again. “Thank you for all of it. It was nice to have a break from school food. Even if the sugar is going to make me crash sooner or later.” Preferably in sixth hour. It’s easy to get away with taking a nap in film class, as long as you can keep your head propped up on your hand. His ears twitch as he smiles. “I told you, I really want to make up for… well, everything.” “And I told you—” “That I don’t need to give you presents for that to happen.” “Exactly.” “So, you didn’t like the pens today?” Pens? “What are you talking about?” “I put some new pens in your backpack. You know, since you used up a bunch of yours taking notes during our decathlon study sessions.” That's true. In retrospect, I was more upset about them running out of ink than I ended up being about missing the actual competition. “Oh, I never saw them. I haven’t looked in my bag since first hour.” I wonder if…. “But, to be honest, I’m kind of particular about my writing instruments, so—” “They better be the Pilot G2 multi-color pack?” Wow. That is surprising. It must show on my face. His smile widens and he pulls his shoulders back. “Yes, actually.” I sit up a bit straighter. “You get that from Michelle too?” “Nope.” He shakes his head. “You left one at my apartment. Dark green. It’s also in your bag.” My heart rate jumps and I hate the fact that it’s over nice pens. Or maybe it’s the thought he put into it. It’s a perfect gift. Useful and, in a way, personal. The only other person who would think of it would be Michelle. She’s the only one who pays that much attention to me. “Alright then.” I try to keep my voice level, to not give away what I’m thinking or how happy I am that I can go back to color-coding my notes like usual. “That’s impressive, I’ll admit.” My chest aches, and I’m not totally sure why. “But,” I say carefully, “as much as I do appreciate it, there’s really no need for anything else.” “Oh really?” He leans forward, putting an elbow to the table, head resting against his hand. “Because I feel like you wouldn’t say that if you knew what I had planned for Friday.” I know it’s bait, that it’s meant to distract me from refusing his future gifts. But I can’t help it. “Tell me,” I demand. He pulls backward and, grinning, shakes his head so rapidly it messes up his hair. “It’s a surprise. I can’t.” It only takes me mentioning that, given how many wild questions he’s sent my way the last few days, I deserve one hint, minimum, for Ned and Michelle to notice and jump into our conversation. Ned offers to tell me about the Friday “event”— the one-word little slip up alone offending Peter more than the whole video game argument. “No, no, no, no!” Peter practically shouts. “Guys, I will kill you! Ned, I’ll tell Jason about how you’re planning to fight him, and MJ— I’ll, I swear, if you say anything, I-I’ll, I will—” “Yeah, you’ve got nothing on me, dude.” she says,

unimpressed, looking him up and down. “But, I’ll play nice this one time.” She looks at me, left eyebrow slightly raised with a clear message: There’s reason for concern. You’ll want to get it out of him as soon as possible. “So, Ned, when’s this fight happening?” We all turn to look at him, Michelle and I particularly curious about that piece of information. “Obviously it’s not,” he says, exasperated. “I’m just trying to figure out how to help a friend he’s been messing with.” “A miss Betty Brant, right?” As Michelle starts a rapid-fire interrogation into Ned and Betty’s beef with Jason, I turn my body and attention towards Peter once more. “You have to give me hints,” I say. “I’d like three, along with unlimited guesses.” He takes a deep breath, eyes searching mine carefully. “Alright, I’ll give hints,” he concedes. “But only two.” That’s better than I expected. “Two,” I agree. “But then you have to tell me tomorrow morning no matter what.” He extends a hand to shake, a smile perking back up. “That seems fair, since you’ll never guess.” I’m more than familiar with uncertainty when it comes to you, I think as that safe, sunny feeling settles over me again. I’ll manage just fine.

Next chapter

Author's note: Apologies for the very long filler chapter. Honestly, this is one of my least favorite chapters I've written and I'd hoped to fix it up a lot more before posting (I was planning a total rewrite tbh), but I figured it'd be better to stay on track with the weekly updating than push it back. Thanks for sticking with it!

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[lyrical-panic]

Some Scars aren’t Physical: PART 1

Iida x GN! Reader

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Past abusive relationship (gaslighting, possessiveness, yelling), slight panic attack, swearing

Summery: (Y/N) had a terrible boyfriend in middle school. He was possessive, manipulative, and just plain awful. Since breaking up with Him, (Y/N)’s had pretty bad relationship anxiety. It’s so bad, that it makes them afraid to pursue their new crush: the kind, earnest class rep, Tenya Iida.

Link to Part 2 

Masterlist

. . .

It only takes one bad experience to ruin something forever.

Take dating, for instance.

You hadn’t had many friends in middle school. You had Izuku, your friend since elementary school, and the people who sat next to you in class who occasionally talked to you. That was about it, but it never mattered. You were still happy.

Then there was Him.

He had been kind. Flattering. He laughed at your jokes and told you His own. You had been happier than you had ever been when you started dating. You spent long nights on the phone with Him, trying to smother your giddy laughter so not to wake the rest of your house. Then you spent hours recounting every moment of the conversation to Izuku, who always rolled his eyes playfully, remarking “As long as you’re happy, (Y/N).”

Then He changed.

It was a gradual shift. You didn’t even realize that something wasn’t right until a month or so into the relationship. It started with Izuku, funnily enough. He didn’t like how close you were with him. You had tried to calmly explain to Him that you were just friends, and had been friends for several years. He wouldn’t have it, though. He never outright asked you to stop spending time with Izuku, but He made it very clear that He didn’t approve of your friendship. 

You didn’t want Him to be angry with you. You didn’t cut Izuku out completely, you couldn’t bear to. You did start to avoid him, though.

It didn’t end with Izuku, though. Next it was the classmates you occasionally hung out with. Next it was anyone He didn’t personally know. Next it was anyone if He wasn’t there.

Then there were the arguments. You were frustrated. You told Him that he couldn’t control you like this. But you couldn’t bring yourself to leave Him. Not when His counterarguments where oh so persuasive.

“Listen, these people don’t really care about you. They’re just going to hurt you. I just want to keep you safe. You trust me, right?”

The hurt look on His face was enough for you to assure Him that yes, of course you trusted Him. You weren’t sure how honest you were being, though.

Four months.

It took four months of loneliness, and anxiety for you to finally end it. It took four months of Izuku pleading with you to leave Him before you actually did it. 

He wouldn’t go down without a fight, unfortunately. He went down in the end, albeit kicking and screaming. He had raised his voice at our before, but never like this. He had never screamed directly in your face. You’d never cried in front of Him before. You’d been good at hiding it, but the all the pent up anxiety and frustrations you were feeling spilt out when He shrieked at you like that.

He’d been suspended for two weeks. They were over all too fast.

He hardly talked to you when He got back, but you always felt His eyes. They seemed to follow you wherever you went.

Izuku stuck to you like glue. He was a nervous kid, and he never said anything directly to Him, but he was always there, offering you his silent support.

“Do you think you’ll want to date anyone else?” Izuku asked one day.

“No one from our class,” You rolled your eyes, surveying the middle school classroom.

“What about when we get to high school?” 

“I don’t know,” You answered after a moment. “I’d like to be in a good relationship, but…”

Izuku frowned. “But?”

You averted your eyes, feeling His gaze burning a hole in the back of your head. “I thought He seemed good at first. Look how well that went.”

. . . 

High school felt like heaven. It might’ve been grueling, and sure, villains showed up every other week, but He wasn’t there. Izuku was, though, plus you both managed to make a few other friends. 

Iida was one such friend. The first thing you had noticed about him was that he was loud. You had never liked loud people, especially after what had happened with Him, but Iida was never loud to you directly. He was just loud in general.

A few weeks into your friendship with him, and you realized that he was incredibly earnest. He was dependable, and seemed to be one of the kindest, if also intense people you’d ever met.

He was also handsome.

You spent lunch periods staring at Iida’s large hands, wondering what they’d feel like in your own. You laid awake at night, hugging your pillow and pretending it was him. 

One night, as you pictured him holding you, his gentle arms suddenly became tight and constrictive. Suddenly, it wasn’t Iida.

It was Him.

Your breathing became sporadic you threw your pillow onto the floor. You folded in on yourself, rubbing your arms to try to rid yourself of His lingering touch.

“I can’t,” You whimpered. “I can’t,”

You wanted to be with Iida, you really did. But He was still poisoning your mind.

. . .

“(L/N), are you doing anything this weekend?” 

You hummed noncommittally at Iida, who was standing at your desk, waiting for you to pack up to go home.

“I don’t think so.” You shrugged. “What about you?”

“Well, a cafe recently opened near my home, I’m thinking of checking it out.” He said casually, eyes darting away. “Perhaps you’d like to come with me?”

“Oh!” You exclaimed, looking up at the boy. “Uh, yeah! That sounds fun. It’d be nice to spend some time with you outside of school.”

“Yes, I-I thought the same thing.” Iida readjusted his glasses, a pink dusting forming on his cheeks. “Is Saturday alright with you?”

About twenty minutes later, when you and Izuku were walking home from the train station, he asked if you wanted to do anything over the weekend.

“On Sunday, maybe.” You kicked an acorn along the sidewalk. “Iida and I are going out on Saturday.”

“Woah, really? Like on a date?”

“I- I don’t- what?” You froze. You replayed the conversation with Iida in your head. “Is it a date? Shit. I can’t go on a date.”

“Why not?” Izuku furrowed his brows in concern. “Iida’s really nice, I think you’d be happy with him. You’d have a good time.”

“Yeah, well we thought I’d be happy with Him too,”

Izuku flinched, understanding flashing in his eyes. “Okay. (Y/N), Iida is lightyears better than Him. Iida’s a super serious guy, but that makes him transparent. If he had ulterior motives, or even if he just seemed like he’d be a dick, you’d know it. Iida isn’t Him. At least go out with him this one time.”

“But I-”

“It’s one date, not marriage.” Izuku reasoned, placing a hand on your shoulder. “There are no obligations. Go out with him. If it goes well, then great! You can do it again, or, don’t. If it goes poorly, then end it there. You don’t have to tie yourself to Iida just because he’s showing interest in you.”

You raised a pointed eyebrow. “What if I’m not interested in him?”

“(Y/N).” Izuku deadpanned. “You and I both know that you are.”

You snickered a little, the sound coming out breathy and broken. “Ok. One date. We’ll see where it goes from there.”

. . .

Izuku knew you and Iida had it bad for each other. The staring longingly when the other wasn’t looking, the flustered laughing, all the goddamn blushing, there was a lot. It was torture watching you both dance around each other, but he knew it wasn’t easy for you. He had left his mark on you, even if it wasn’t a physical one. 

Izuku wasn’t exactly thrilled to push you right back into dating when you obviously were uncomfortable, despite knowing that Iida could be a healing presence in your life if you let him. 

So you were going on a date with him. 

“It’s one date, not marriage.” He had said, trying to convince himself as well as you. “There are no obligations.”

Izuku knew Iida. He trusted him with his life, he just wasn’t sure if he trusted him with you. You, the closest thing to a sibling Izuku had ever had. You, who had stayed his friend even after you had manifested your quirk and he’d been left quirkless. You, who stayed by his side and defended him against Kacchan and his other middle school bullies. 

You, who had been hurt before by someone you had liked.

Izuku groaned, flopping onto his bed. “Iida isn’t Him. Iida isn’t Him. He’s not going to hurt (Y/N). They’re going to be fine.”

It still didn’t stop him from constantly checking his phone, to see if you’d messaged him. Today was your date. He check the time again. 3:21. You should be home by now, or at least on the way. He’d told you to text him when you were home and tell him all about the date, but you might’ve forgotten. Maybe he should text your parents?

No. He was your best friend, not your father. He’d wait to see if you contacted him. If you didn’t, no big deal. He’d see you on Monday at school. Izuku very deliberately placed his phone face down on his bedside table. Deciding to go for a jog to get his mind off it, he began to change into his workout clothes.

Not two minutes later, his phone buzzed. Halfway into his gym shorts, Izuku scrambled back to the table, tripping over his own feet and hitting his head squarely on the bed frame. 

“Shit!” He hissed, rubbing his forehead.

“Izuku?” His mother called. “Is everything all right in there?”

“Yeah, I just tripped. I’m okay.” He replied, feeling around for his phone with the hand not cradling his head. Much to Izuku’s disappointment, the text wasn’t from you.

Much to his surprise though, it was from Iida.

Iida: Is (L/N) afraid of me?

“Uh oh,” He murmured, fingers already flying across the keypad.

Izuku: wdym? Did something happen during your date?

Iida: Kind of? It went well, but (L/N) seemed really nervous.

Izuku: And you weren’t? Lol, it’s your first date

Iida: Well, yes of course I was nervous. (L/N) seems more nervous then would be ordinary in that situation, though.

Izuku: What exactly did they do?

Iida: They were very overly jittery. They looked apprehensive and guilty whenever we talked. At one point I put my hand on their arm and they flinched. 

“Oh shit,” Izuku whispered. Iida wasn’t done, though.

Iida: The night ended well enough, I suppose. They seemed to have a good time, it just looked like they were too frightened to enjoy it to the full extent, though.

Izuku: You didn’t do anything weird, did you?

Iida: Weird how? All I did was talk to them. I offered to pay for their food, but they declined. I touched their arm, but once they flinched away I didn’t try again. We walked back to the train station together, and I offered to accompany them home, but they shot me down again.

Izuku sighed, rubbing his throbbing temples. It was a delicate situation. It wasn’t really Izuku’s place to tell Iida your business. So how was he going to tell Iida that you had relationship trauma without actually telling him?

Izuku: Ok, I don’t think you did anything wrong. (Y/N) gets nervous at the idea of dating, but I promise it’s not you. They’ve had bad experiences with dating, but they seem to really like you and want to try again.

Izuku: (Y/N)’s story isn’t mine to tell. If they feel comfortable giving you all the details, then they will. All you need to know for now is that their anxiety isn’t your fault. It also doesn’t mean that they don’t like you because I don’t think I’ve ever seen them as happy with someone as they are with you  

Iida: I see. Their behavior makes a little more sense now. Thank you for telling me, Midoriya. I’d like to have a relationship with them, so on Monday I’ll talk to them and see if there’s anything I can do or stop doing to make them more comfortable. I don’t think I’ve ever been happier than I am when I’m with them either, in all honesty. I would hate to loose them over a misunderstanding.

Izuku chuckled, smiling warmly at his device. “What was I ever worried about?”

[junghelioseok]

clandestine. | 03

↳ forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest.

◇ jungkook x reader ◇ smut | fluff | brother’s best friend!au ◇ 9.2k [3/6]

notes: this will likely be my last update of this fic until the new year, because i have two (2!!!) other fics that i’m planning to post in december, including another jungoo one, so! please look forward to those, and enjoy this chapter in the meantime! 

warnings: jk’s massive noona kink: a recurring yet warranted warning, me absolutely fucking up everything about korea’s geography probably, semi-public? fingering???, jungkook....... shall we say, rocks the boat, there is one (1) dick pic but no one’s complaining

⇢ 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 

Monday - 11:27am

Kim Taehyung added you to the group: the great escape!!!!!! 🏝🚗💨

[11:27am] Taehyung: let’s gooooooooooo!!

[11:27am] Jisoo: ???

[11:28am] Lisa: go where?

[11:28am] Taehyung: parks lake house this weekend! we’re going on vacation!

[11:28am] You: hold up tae, we haven’t even asked our parents if we can have the house yet

[11:29am] Chimchim: oh yeah lmao

[11:29am] Chimchim: u wanna go ask noona??

[11:29am] You: nope

[11:30am] Chimchim: ugh, fine

[11:30am] Chimchim: u big baby

[11: 31am] You: 🙄

[11: 37am] Chimchim: they said yes!

[11:38am] Taehyung: LET’S GOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

[11:38am] Minho: sweet 👍

[11:38am] Taemin: tight

[11:39am] Jungkook: dope

[11:40AM] Jisoo: you’re all idiots 🙄

Tuesday - 2:34pm

[2:34pm] Chimchim: i’ve secured the van

[2:34pm] Chimchim: for the trip i mean

[2:35pm] Taehyung: noice

[2:35pm] You: 10 people aren’t gonna fit in mom’s van, chim

[2:37pm] Jungkook: i can drive too

[2:37pm] Chimchim: 👍👍

[2:37pm] Chimchim: see? nothing to worry about

[2:38pm] Jungkook: yeah noona, nothing to worry about. nothing at all.

Wednesday - 9:49pm

[9:49pm] Taehyung: oh my god we need FOOD

[9:49pm] Lisa: you’re just realizing that now?

[9:50pm] Taehyung: shut up

[9:50pm] Taehyung: i have a cooler

[9:51pm] Lisa: and ice?

[9:51pm] Taehyung: ………… i will buy some ice

[9:52pm] You: there’s a grocery store on the way up that we always used to go to, we can stock up there

[9:52pm] Taehyung: 👍

[9:54pm] You: you also better remember to bring your own towels. and more than one change of clothing

[9:54pm] Taehyung: 👍👍

[9:55pm] Chimchim: yes, mom

///

The day of the trip finds you standing in the foyer, rifling through your purse to make sure you have all the essentials. Off in the distance, you can hear Jimin sprinting around frantically, catching the briefest glimpse of his ruffled blond hair before he disappears again into the depths of the house.

“Chim, I swear to god. Why didn’t you pack earlier?”

“I did!” your brother whines, poking his head out from the living room where his suitcase is lying wide open, belongings scattered in every direction. “It’s just that—oh, fuck. Do you have my toothbrush?”

“Why would I have your toothbrush?” you deadpan.

He ignores you, and not two seconds later, he lets out an excited shout. “Never mind! I found it!”

You sigh and rub your temples. The trip hasn’t even begun, yet you’re already feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on. “I’m going outside,” you call to your brother, who grunts in acknowledgement. Opening up the front door, you drag your suitcase out onto the sun-drenched porch, relishing the welcome breeze that caresses your cheeks and whispers through your hair.

The rare moment of peace is broken almost immediately by the rumble of a starting engine—the sound shuddery and wavering before it finally evens out into a steady, mechanical purr. It’s coming from nearby, and your gaze immediately travels to the neighboring driveway where a beat-up sedan sits, torn between exasperation and amusement when you see Jungkook waving at you from the driver’s seat.

“I’m coming to pick you up!” he calls through the open window, and you hold back your laughter as he reverses out of his driveway, rolls ten feet down the street, and pulls into yours.

“Was that really necessary?” you ask once he’s parked.

“Of course it was,” he replies, hopping out to grab your suitcase. You watch as he pops the trunk and loads it inside, and blanch when you realize what that means.

“Wait a second. Am I riding with you?”

Some emotion flashes across his face, but he wipes it away before you can identify it. “Would that be so terrible?”

It’s been one week since Taehyung’s party, and Jisoo’s warning still rings loud and clear in your brain. Still, you feign nonchalance and tamp down the uptick in your heart rate, offering him a shrug. “Just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.”

He grunts. An awkward silence settles over you as he adjusts your suitcase in the trunk beside his, and you distract yourself by fiddling with your purse strap until he slams the lid closed.

“So…” you start after a few seconds. “Are we picking anyone else up?”

“Yugyeom,” Jungkook replies, opening up the driver’s side door and climbing in. Hesitantly, you make your way over to the other side of the car, wondering if there’s any way you can avoid sitting in the passenger seat without looking like a total weirdo.

“Oh! Jungkook’s here already?” Jimin exits the house at last, lugging his suitcase and a smaller backpack. He shoves both into the backseat of your mother’s van before coming over, frowning when he sees you hovering near the trunk. “Why are you just standing there?”

You make a face at him. “We’re waiting for you, dumbass. Who’s riding with you?”

“Tae, Minho, and Taemin,” your brother replies. “Didn’t you see the group chat this morning?”

“I muted it days ago,” you admit. “You guys were annoying as hell.” Then another thought strikes you, your brain belatedly registering the names Jimin listed. “Wait, what about the girls? Aren’t they coming?”

Your brother rolls his eyes. “Jisoo’s working as a camp counselor this summer, and Lisa has other vacation plans. Maybe if you hadn’t muted the chat, you’d have known that.”

He has a point, though you aren’t about to admit that. You’re also wise enough not to inquire about the third member of the trio, remembering Jisoo’s revelation at the party. It’s no surprise that Chaeyoung isn’t joining you for the weekend—you’d want to avoid extended periods of time with your ex-boyfriend too. At the thought, your gaze reluctantly flits back over to the ex in question, who raises an expectant brow when he catches your eye.

“Ready?” he calls out the open window.

No, you want to say. But Jimin has already clambered into the van and slammed the door shut, and Jungkook’s car is blocking the van in the driveway so you suck in a deep breath and slide into the passenger seat beside your dark-haired neighbor.

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

Jungkook nods and throws the car into reverse. One hand splays across the wheel while the other comes up to rest on the back of your seat, and your breath hitches when he cranes around to check his blind spots, his face suddenly too close for comfort.

He’s playing with you, you tell yourself firmly, leaning back until your back’s pressed against the door and you can safely breathe again. Chaeyoung. Think about what he did to Chaeyoung.

“Hey, I made a roadtrip mix,” Jungkook pipes up all of a sudden. He grabs his phone from where it’s resting on the dashboard, tapping at the screen until the first strains of a melody filter through the car speakers. “It should last us the whole way.”

You perk up when you recognize the tune. “Oh! I love this song.”

Jungkook watches out of the corner of his eye as you bob your head to the beat, before smiling down at his lap. “Yeah. I know.”

///

Yugyeom lives on the other side of town, in a sprawling, winding neighborhood that sends your brain—and your phone’s GPS—into a complete and total tailspin. “Wait, wait—hang on. I think you missed a turn. You must have.”

Jungkook’s face crumples in confusion as he slows the car to a crawl, drawing a few irritated honks from the cars behind you. “There weren’t any streets back there, though.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, twisting in your seat to get a better look. “The directions said to take a right in… oh, fuck, hang on. We’re not even on a digitized road anymore, apparently.”

Jungkook heaves a sigh, but when you glance up at him, he’s wearing a grin. “Come on, Noona. You’re supposed to be my navigator. I’m depending on you.”

“I only know how to get us to the lake house, not Yugyeom’s,” you sniff defensively. “This is way beyond my pay grade.”

Jungkook chortles and reaches out, extending an open palm. “Can I see your phone for a sec?” You nod, handing it over, and he clicks his tongue as he turns it upside-down—rotating it a full three hundred and sixty degrees before returning it. “We might be lost,” he declares.

“Gee, you don’t say.”

He chuckles again. Picking up his own phone, he swipes a thumb across the screen before handing the unlocked device over. “Here, call Yugyeom. Put him on speaker, yeah?”

You hum in acknowledgement and scroll down in his contacts until you find the other boy’s name, clicking it open. A photo fills the screen as it rings—clearly a group photo from the way it’s cropped, zoomed in on Yugyeom and the ridiculous face he’s making.

“Is this from graduation?” you ask curiously.

Jungkook blinks and tears his gaze away from the windshield. “Huh?”

“Yugyeom’s contact photo,” you clarify, tilting the phone screen so he can see. “He’s got robes on.”

“Oh.” He looks away again, cheeks flushing. “Yeah. It’s lame, I know.”

You shake your head. “Don’t say that. I think it’s nice.”

Jungkook doesn’t get a chance to respond, but it’s impossible to miss the grin that crinkles his face and settles there. There’s a staticky hum as the line connects, and then Yugyeom’s voice is filling the vehicle, sounding as if he’s just rolled out of bed.

“Whaddaya want?”

“We can’t find your fucking house, man,” Jungkook says bluntly, turning onto a street that you’ve driven down at least three times by this point. “Where do you live?”

On the other end of the line, Yugyeom sighs. “Okay, okay. What street are you guys on?”

That gives Jungkook pause. “Uhh, Cedar Street? Oak Avenue? It has a tree name.”

“Neither of those streets exist, dude.”

“Birch Boulevard!” you exclaim. “We’re on Birch Boulevard. I saw the sign a while back.”

“Ah, okay. You’re close, then. Do you see a sign for Linden Lane?”

You glance around until you alight on a signpost. “Yeah.”

“Turn right onto it. Then take the first left, go past the cul-de-sac, and another left. Do not pass Go, and do not collect two-hundred dollars. I’m the fifth house on the right.”

He ends the call before you can ask him to repeat the directions, and you send Jungkook a helpless look. “Did you get all of that?”

“Besides the overused Monopoly joke?” Jungkook asks.. “Yeah, I got it. Right, left, left. Fifth house. Shouldn’t take more than a few minutes to get there.”

And true to his word, you arrive at the house three minutes later. Yugyeom is standing on the front step with rumpled hair and a duffel bag at his feet, and you snort when he throws open the car door and flops across the entirety of the backseat.

“Rough morning?”

“Stayed up late packing,” he says by way of explanation, his eyes already beginning to drift shut. Jungkook immediately turns the music up, and you giggle when Yugyeom shoots upright at the bassline that’s now shaking the entire vehicle. “I’m up, I’m up! Jeez, man.”

Jungkook just sends him an innocent grin in the rearview mirror. You turn the volume back down to a reasonable level as Yugyeom directs Jungkook onto the best route to take out of the neighborhood, and it isn’t long before you’re merging onto the highway that leads toward the coast.

You’re just beginning to get comfortable, staring out the window at the passing cityscape, when your leg vibrates with an incoming text notification. Glancing down, you see that Jungkook’s phone has slipped between your thigh and the seat, the screen lit with a new message.

[10:21am] Minho: gonna be at the store in 10

“Minho says they’ll be at the grocery store in ten minutes,” you relay to your companions. “We have a little longer to go. Probably another half hour or so.”

“We wouldn’t be so far behind if Yugyeom didn’t live in a fucking labyrinth,” Jungkook remarks, but a glance at the young man in the backseat reveals that he’s drifted off despite your earlier stunt. Rolling his eyes, he turns to you. “Can you text him back, Noona?”

You nod and hold out his phone so he can unlock it with his thumb. “Hey,” you say once you’ve hit send on the message. “Do you have a contact photo for me?”

Jungkook stiffens slightly, his gaze skittering between you and the road. “Oh. Uh, yeah, I guess I do. But it’s nothing, really. It’s kinda lame. But you… you can look at it if you want.”

Curiosity piqued, you scroll down until you find your name, tapping on the image beside it. The photo is from several years ago, during a family trip to the lake house with the Jeons. You are no older than fifteen, your arm slung around a fourteen-year-old Jungkook as the two of you stand knee-deep in the lake, wearing swimsuits and bright smiles. In the background, you can just barely make out a blurry Jimin mid-splash.

“I remember this,” you murmur, zooming in on your smiling faces. “That was a fun summer.”

“Junghyun was grumpy the whole time,” Jungkook recalls with a laugh. “But we had a good time, didn’t we? We practically lived in the lake that entire week.”

“Or that old canoe.” You grin, taking one last look at the photo before locking his phone and handing it back to him. “Remember? We’d always row out too far, and our parents would scream for us to come back before we fell in and drowned.”

Jungkook snickers. “As if I’d ever let you drown. I’m a great swimmer.”

“Are you saying I’m not?”

He backpedals immediately, realizing his mistake. “Hey, don’t twist my words. I said nothing of the sort.”

“That’s what I thought.” Giggling, you turn to look out the window, propping your chin in your palm as you watch the scenery flash past. “And I want that photo, by the way. Send it to me?”

“As soon as we get to the store,” Jungkook promises. “Speaking of which, we’re getting close. Keep an eye out for the exit for me?”

“Deal.”

///

Jimin and the others are waiting in the parking lot when you arrive, perched on and around the van as they watch Jungkook expertly maneuver the car into a neighboring parking space. “Took you long enough,” your brother says once the engine is cut, hopping off the hood and landing lightly on both feet.

“We’re here now, aren’t we?” you snark as you join the others hovering near the grocery store entrance. Jimin makes a face at you, and you stick your tongue out in response. After a quick huddle—wherein you form a very haphazard game plan—everyone disperses. Jimin grabs a shopping cart and heads inside with Taehyung and Minho, the latter of whom is trying to clamber his way into the cart to hitch a ride.

Sighing, you grab a shopping cart of your own and scan the interior of the store for the produce section. They’ve rearranged the aisles since you were last here, but you quickly find what you’re looking for and begin picking your way over when Jungkook materializes at your side.

“So, what are you thinking for food?” he asks, nudging you away so he can push the cart in your stead.

You allow him to take over, gesturing toward your destination. “I know my brother,” you tell him dryly. “He’s going to buy meat and completely forget about everything else. And I don’t trust any of you to buy a single fruit or vegetable.”

“I like fruit and vegetables,” Jungkook defends.

“You like everything,” you correct, flashing him a teasing grin before leading him into the produce section.

Grocery shopping with Jungkook turns out to be surprisingly pleasant—comfortable, even. He proves adept at finding the ripest fruits and greenest vegetables, and when you ask him to find some apples, he trots off immediately and returns with a handful of sweet potatoes in addition to your requested fruit.

You raise an eyebrow. “What are you planning to do with those?”

Jungkook feigns offense, slapping a hand to his heart. “That’s cold, Noona. Don’t you think I can cook?”

“I’ve never seen you cook in my life,” you respond. “How am I supposed to know if you can or not?”

“I can,” he promises. “And I’ll prove it too, if you let me.”

You get the feeling he’s not just talking about cooking anymore, but he doesn’t give you a chance to answer. Dropping the apples and potatoes into the cart, he flashes you a crooked little smile before turning toward a display of cabbages, leaving you to wonder at what exactly is going through his head.

///

It’s nearly one in the afternoon when you arrive at your family’s lake house. The last stretch of the drive takes you through the forest along a winding, narrow road, but Jungkook is a capable driver and you know the way well enough to warn him about any upcoming hairpin turns. Piling out of the car, the three of you make quick work of putting the food safely into the refrigerator. By the time you’re finished, Jimin and the others have arrived as well, lugging their belongings inside and setting them inside the entryway.

“So who’s sleeping where?” Taehyung asks, glancing around the house. It’s modestly sized, with a living area on one side and a combined dining room and kitchen on the other. Three bedrooms and a bathroom branch off of the hallway between them, ending in a back door that leads out to the lake. Through the window, you can see the water glimmering in the sunlight, hazy and golden.

“We’ll have to share,” Jimin says. “ If Noona takes one room, that leaves two bedrooms and the pullout couch for the rest of us.”

Jungkook tilts his head. “Rock, paper, scissors?” he suggests, drawing a chorus of groans.

“I always lose!” Jimin complains. “And Taemin cheats!”

“Do not!”

Laughing at the indignant expression on your brother’s face, you decide to leave them to it and head to your bedroom with your luggage in tow. The room is just as you remember it, with a bed tucked against one wall and a dresser on the opposite. There are three doors in total—one that you just entered through, and another that opens into a small closet. The third leads to a bathroom—shared with the bedroom on the other side of the wall that usually belongs to Jimin. Vaguely, you wonder who will be sleeping there tonight, before setting your suitcase on the bed and unzipping it.

“Fuck!”

You jump at the sudden shout, poking your head out into the hallway to see what’s causing all the commotion. Yugyeom is kneeling on the floor with his head down, a crestfallen Taemin standing beside him. Meanwhile, Taehyung and Minho look supremely pleased with themselves, and you see why when they grab their bags and practically skip to the master bedroom across the hall, collapsing onto the king-sized bed.

“Have fun on the couch, losers!” Jimin singsongs, grabbing Jungkook by the wrist and dragging him into their newly won bedroom on your side of the hallway. “Lake in fifteen minutes, so get changed! Last one there’s in charge of dinner!”

The door slams shut behind him, and you roll your eyes before turning back to your opened suitcase and pulling out a book. There’s a perfectly shaded spot beneath one of the trees along the water, and you fully intend to capitalize on the last few hours of daylight before the sun begins to set.

Minho is the only one outside when you exit the house, standing on the dock in a pair of green swim trunks. He waves at you cheerily before cannonballing into the lake, and you squeak as the resulting splash sends water splattering across the front of your shirt.

“Sorry!” he calls when he resurfaces, shaking his hair out like a wet dog.

You wave off his apology with a laugh, settling down onto the soft grass at the base of your chosen tree and opening up your book. The other boys trickle out of the house one by one, but you barely notice. It isn’t until a triumphant shout pierces the air that you finally glance up to see what’s causing all the commotion, your gaze immediately landing on Taehyung standing on the back steps of the house.

“Trust me,” he says, unbothered by his apparent tardiness. “You don’t want me to make dinner.”

Minho pulls a face and straightens up from where he’d been floating on his back. “You know, he kinda has a point there.”

Murmurs of agreement all around. Taehyung gives Jimin a smug smile, who scowls from where he’s sitting at the end of the dock, his bare feet dangling over the edge. “So what now? Do we have to play rock, paper, scissors again?”

“Nah, I’ll do it.”

Every head whips around to face Jungkook, yours included. He’s standing a short ways from where you’re sitting—his approach so quiet that you hadn’t even heard him arrive. The last time you checked, he’d been diving off the dock with Minho and Yugyeom, water pooling in his collarbones and dripping down the ridges of his taut abdomen each time he resurfaced.

Not that you’d been looking, of course.

“Really?” Jimin looks aghast at his best friend’s declaration. “You can cook?”

Jungkook scoffs in disbelief and plops down beside you, leaning back against the tree trunk. “Why does everyone in your family seem surprised by that?” he asks, his lip jutting out in a petulant frown. “Do I seem like someone who can’t cook?”

“Yes,” you tell him honestly, marking your page and letting the book fall shut. “Don’t take it personally, though. Men only learn how to cook in college when they have to start fending for themselves. And sometimes, not even then.”

The noise that leaves Jungkook’s mouth can best be described as disgruntled, but he doesn’t press any further. Instead, he peers over your shoulder to get a look at the cover of your book, mouthing the title to himself before glancing at you. “Haven’t I seen you reading this before?”

“Probably,” you admit. “It’s an old favorite.”

He hums, slouching back against the tree again, and when you look over, you see that both his eyes have fallen shut. With his mouth parted and his dark lashes resting on his cheeks, he looks years younger than he is—and so much more like the Jungkook you used to know.

“Tired?” you whisper.

“Long drive,” Jungkook whispers back, his head already beginning to loll. “Lemme sleep, Noona.”

Smiling to yourself, you return to your book and leave him to rest.

///

“So, what are you even planning to make?” Jimin asks, swinging his legs. He’s seated atop the kitchen counter, taking up the majority of what precious little space there is to begin with, and Jungkook sighs deeply as he’s forced to dodge around him yet again to peer into the refrigerator.

“You’ll see.”

“I don’t think you even know yet,” Taemin pipes up from the doorway. The other boys are in the living room playing Mario Kart, but Taemin and Jimin have selflessly pulled themselves away from the game to help their friend in the kitchen—or so they say. As far as you’re concerned, they’ve been nothing but a nuisance thus far, but you don’t voice that particular thought aloud.

“Ramen doesn’t count as making dinner,” Jimin points out snidely when Jungkook pauses too long next to the box of ramen packs. “Anyone can boil water. And you don’t get to add an egg and call it fancy, like you usually do.”

“My ramen is delicious, excuse you,” Jungkook retorts, pointing a spatula at him. “And that’s not even what I’m making, so fuck off.”

Jimin shrugs, but shuts his mouth nonetheless. You take the opportunity to throw some pork belly at him, the meat wrapped neatly in paper and tied off with twine. “Here,” you tell him. “You could at least make yourself useful and start grilling the meat.”

“Okay, mom,” your brother grumbles under his breath, hopping off the counter. He and Taemin head out to the back porch where the grill sits, and you join Jungkook at the stove where he’s staring thoughtfully at an empty pan.

“Try twisting the dial. I’ve heard that helps.”

Jungkook snaps out of his daze and turns to you. “Huh?”

“The stove. It won’t light itself, you know.”

Chuckling, Jungkook twists the dial as instructed, adding a drizzle of oil to the pan. As it heats up, he turns and selects a knife from the cutlery drawer. The sweet potatoes he’d insisted on purchasing are already washed and peeled, and you watch as he begins to slice them, your gaze automatically flitting down to his exposed forearms, his muscles flexing with every movement.

“Hey, Noona? Can you do me a favor?”

You blink, tearing your gaze from the branching veins lining his arms. “What?”

Jungkook, thankfully, doesn’t seem to notice your distracted state. “Can you put the rice in the microwave?” he asks, and you can’t help but giggle.

“Why?” you tease. “Are you still scared?”

“Of course not,” he retorts, but you don’t miss the wary look that flashes across his face when you plop the rice inside and go to punch in the cook time.

The remainder of the cooking goes smoothly. Jimin and Taemin return with the grilled meat, and Jungkook rebuffs your offer to set the table, leaving his position at the stove to lay plates and utensils down on the table himself. “I’m just about done, anyway,” he tells you, gesturing at the plate of glazed sweet potatoes on the counter. “Sit down and relax, Noona.”

“Fine,” you relent, taking a seat. Jimin takes the chair beside you, and Taemin plops down on his other side. Jungkook sits down just to your left once he’s finished laying out the food, and for a brief, insane moment, you almost think that he’s going to repeat what he’d done at his graduation dinner. But the dark-haired young man remains on his best behavior, keeping his hands to himself under the table, and you aren’t sure whether you’re grateful or disappointed.

The meal flies by in a flurry of laughter and conversation. Jungkook discovers that his glazed sweet potatoes have adhered to the plate, and sends everyone into hysterics when he promptly starts spinning it around like a steering wheel.

It’s a good night. And at the end of it, you go to bed warm and content, with a belly full of food and a smile on your face.

///

You awaken to the sound of chirping songbirds and gentle waves lapping at the shore the next morning, thoroughly rejuvenated after an undisturbed night’s sleep. Stretching your arms overhead, you yawn and bask in the comfort of your bed for a few more moments before getting up and heading to the bathroom, thankful that you don’t have to fight anyone for sink occupancy. The toilet seat is even down, which comes as a welcome surprise, all things considered.

Before long, you are back in your bedroom, rifling through the contents of your suitcase. Belatedly, you realize that you’ve packed only one swimsuit—and a bikini, at that. Cheeks warming, you pull the two pieces out, holding them up against your body. Has it always been this small? You don’t remember. All you know is that Jungkook has two fully functional eyes, and there’s no way that he won’t be looking at every inch of skin you choose to expose.

In the end, you settle on wearing the bikini beneath a flowy, floral kimono-style robe, tied at the waist to form a makeshift dress. The ensemble reaches just past your knees and is sheer enough to still show skin, but you no longer feel as self-conscious going out into the view of your companions and that’s a victory as far as you’re concerned. Checking your reflection one last time, you adjust your sash before opening the bedroom door and heading down the hall for some breakfast.

Unsurprisingly, the kitchen is empty when you walk in, tiptoeing past a still slumbering Taemin and Yugyeom on the pullout couch. You savor the quiet as you start up the old coffeemaker, pulling a mug from the cabinet and rinsing it out to get rid of any lingering dust. The weather app on your phone promises that it’ll be a clear, cloudless day, and a glance out the window confirms it. Silently, you debate whether or not to crack a window.

Your musings are interrupted by the arrival of Taehyung, his brown hair sticking up at all angles. Blearily, he trundles to the fridge and grabs the orange juice, seemingly two seconds away from chugging it straight from the carton before you clear your throat and push a clean glass toward him. You think you hear him mumble a thank you.

As the morning wears on, the others slowly begin to trickle in. Breakfast is a disorganized affair that leaves bread crumbs all over the counter, and nearly causes a fight when everyone seems to want their eggs cooked a different way.

“Look, if you wanted your egg soft-boiled, you should’ve made it yourself!” Jimin grouches to Taehyung, the t-shirt over his head muffling his words. Everyone else is already in the water, splashing about, but you’re seated on the end of the dock with your brother and Taehyung, who looks thoroughly unfazed behind his tinted sunglasses.

“Maybe if I knew how to soft boil an egg, I would have.”

“Google exists,” Jimin says, finally freeing himself from the shirt and tossing it aside.

Taehyung nods sagely. “Exactly. So why didn’t you use it?”

Jimin is beginning to look positively murderous, so when Minho swims over and taps your submerged ankle, you are beyond grateful for the distraction. “Hey. What’s up?”

“Are you gonna swim, or are you gonna sit onshore the whole time?” Minho asks, raking his wet bangs out of his eyes. “The water’s not even cold, so get in here.”

Pointedly, you wiggle your toes. “Feels pretty cold to me.”

“Okay, fine. It’s cold.” Minho grins. “But you get used to it.”

You sigh at his easy admission. “All men do is lie. How am I supposed to believe you?”

He raises a brow. “Do I need to pull you in and dunk you under?”

“I will kick you if you even try,” you tell him, standing up and shrugging off your robe. An audible hush falls as the gauzy material pools around your ankles—Jungkook stops wrestling with Yugyeom and trying to dunk him underwater, and Taemin pauses mid-splash, his hair drenched and dripping.

It’s Minho who breaks the silence first, letting loose a low whistle of appreciation. “Damn, {Name}.”

Jimin grabs a shoe from the pile on the dock and chucks it at him, hard. “Dude, that’s my fucking sister!”

“Ow! What the fuck, man, that’s my shoe!”

“Quit ogling my sister!”

“I’m not!” Minho yells, just as Jimin chucks the other shoe and hits him square in the mouth. “Okay, I’m not anymore. Sorry, okay?”

Once he’s sufficiently sure that Jimin is done attacking him, Minho turns to you. “I’m sorry,” he says sincerely. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything. You know that, right?”

“I know,” you reassure him. “Honestly, it was kinda good for my self-esteem. And I don’t need you defending my honor, or whatever it is you think you’re doing,” you add, glancing over at your disgruntled brother.

“Men are pigs,” Jimin sniffs. “I won’t apologize.”

You ruffle his hair good-naturedly. “I know, Chim. You’re right.” Then your smile turns mischievous. “I won’t apologize for what I’m about to do, either.”

And then you grab him by the arm and drag him into the lake, the cold water submerging you in an instant and stealing the breath out of your lungs. You’re both gasping by the time you resurface, blinking water out of your eyes, and you squeal when Jimin takes the opportunity to splash you again.

Hours pass—the sun rising higher overhead. Around noon, Taehyung disappears inside the house and returns with an assortment of snacks and sandwich fixings, ushering everyone over for an impromptu lunch on the dock. You dip your feet into the water as you munch on a bag of chips, and Jungkook plops down beside you with a juice box in one hand and a ham sandwich in the other.

“Wanna go for a ride in the canoe after lunch?” he asks, jabbing a thumb back in the direction of the house. “I found it in the garage.”

You laugh. “Really? I thought for sure we got rid of that thing. Are you sure it hasn’t sprung a leak?”

Jungkook’s face crinkles into a grin. “Guess we’ll have to wait and see, huh?”

You grin back and raise your cup, the lemonade inside swishing around. “I’ll hang on to this, just in case I need to start bailing water out.”

Lunchtime winds down gradually. Jungkook polishes off his sandwich and trots off to fetch the canoe, waving off your offers to help before disappearing around the corner of the house. You watch him return a few minutes later from your seat on the end of the dock, resting your weight back on your hands and swirling your pruney toes in the water. He’s stripped off the loose white tee he’d donned during lunch, his golden skin cast in shadow by the canoe perched across his bare shoulders, and your gaze trails from his bulging biceps down to the ridges of his abdomen. The muscles flex with every step he takes, and you hastily take another sip of lemonade in an effort to combat the sudden dryness in your throat.

With a grunt, Jungkook comes to a stop at your elbow, heaving the boat into the water. The impact sends ripples across the lake and the butterflies in your belly into a frenzy, and you nearly fall off the dock when Jungkook touches your shoulder gently.

“Ready to go, Noona?”

You nod, not quite trusting yourself to speak. Jungkook holds the boat steady with one hand while offering you the other, and you gratefully grasp it as you step off the dock. The canoe rocks dangerously when Jungkook clambers in after you, but quickly steadies when he picks up an oar and jabs at the dock to push off into the lake. The glimmering expanse of blue water stretches before you, and you relax as you let your fingers dangle off the side of the boat, watching ripples form beneath your fingertips.

“I can help row,” you say after a few moments, casting a glance over at Jungkook. He’s settled into a rhythm now, the veins and tendons in his arm flexing with each movement, and you’re suddenly very aware of how close he’s sitting.

“You—” Jungkook says, fixing you with a playful stare, “—just enjoy the ride, yeah?”

Shaking your head, you smile and turn back around to admire the view. Sunlight reflects off the rippling water, lending a golden iridescence to the glittering blue depths. In the distance, the opposite shoreline rises up, crowned with rocky outcrops and majestic dark green pines.

With a start, you realize how far away you’ve gotten from the other boys. The shouts and laughter from the house are quickly fading into the background, and you nervously turn to look at Jungkook as he rows you even further.

“God, my dad would freak if he saw us right now,” you remark, trying to diffuse the sudden tension that’s settled. “I mean, we don’t even have life jackets. He’d lose his mind.”

Jungkook hums. He stops rowing, his hands stilling on the oars, and you’re just about to ask him what’s wrong when a warm hand glides up your thigh.

“You think you could maybe stop talking about your dad, princess?” Then he smirks. “Unless you’re into the whole daddy kink thing, because I’d be down to explore that at some point if you want—“

“Jungkook!” you hiss, scandalized.

“Yes?” the young man in question hums, his face the picture of innocence. It’s hard to muster up your vocabulary when he’s looking up at you with those wide doe eyes, but you somehow manage to prevail over your malfunctioning brain.

“We’re in public!” you whisper, glancing back at the shore where your brother and his friends have started an impromptu game of water polo.

Jungkook smirks crookedly at you. “Guess you better not scream too loud, then.”

And then, before you can open your mouth to protest—before you can even try to call his bluff—he’s slipped his hand into your bikini bottoms and found his way to your clit. Your entire body spasms when he presses into it experimentally, and the resulting snicker that escapes him is nothing short of infuriating.

“Careful,” he coos, laying his free hand on your thigh, his thumb rubbing nonsensical circles into the soft skin. “Don’t wanna rock the boat, now.”

Then he returns his attention to your clit, pinching the nub just to watch you jolt in his grasp and soothing you with a gentle kiss to the knee afterward. Your skin warms beneath the plush of his lips, and the pleased smile that curves them is all the warning you get before he sheathes a single finger in your clenching core. “Jungkook—” you gasp, shoving uselessly at his bare shoulders, but you can’t keep the edge of desire out of your voice. You can’t hide the growing wetness between your legs either—wetness that he most certainly feels as he slips another finger inside, pumping into you with ease.

“God, look at you,” he murmurs, his eyes trained on the way you clench around him. “So pretty like this. So pretty, getting fucked by my fingers. I could do this all day.”

“We—we don’t have all day,” you whisper. The last syllable dissolves into a moan as Jungkook eases a third finger into your cunt, and you scrabble to ground yourself when he picks up his leisurely pace. One hand settles on the edge of the boat, your fingernails digging into the wood, while the other finds Jungkook’s bicep. His arm flexes beneath your grip with each snap of his wrist, and you keen when he crooks his fingers just right and sends stars skittering across your vision.

He knows that you’re getting close. You can tell from the growing furrow between his brows and the hard set of his jaw, and you can tell that he won’t stop until he gets you off. Concentration etches across his face, and you gasp when his thumb finds your clit again.

“Oh, fuck, Jungkook—”

“That’s it,” he rasps, digging deeper and thumbing roughly across your bundle of nerves. “Cum for me.”

And you do. With one final flick of his wrist, Jungkook sends you hurtling over the edge that he’s so effortlessly built, a cresting wave of pleasure overtaking your body and spreading through your veins. Your leg kicks out instinctively, rocking the canoe dangerously in the water, but Jungkook catches you by the ankle with his free hand and presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh. He shifts his weight until you’re steadied once more, and only then does he ease his fingers out of you, raising them to his mouth to lick them clean.

“Think we can sneak away so I can fuck you properly?” he asks.

Your cheeks heat up at the lewd display, warming even more when his words register in your muddled brain. “Oh my god, Jungkook.”

“That’s exactly what you’ll be saying when I really get my hands on you,” Jungkook agrees. Flashing you a mischievous grin, he drops his hand over the edge of the boat, letting the turquoise water wash away any lingering fluids. “What do you think? The backseat of my car isn’t half bad…”

“I will literally push you into this lake,” you tell him, trying and failing to hide a disbelieving laugh. “Why are you such a perv?”

“You like it,” Jungkook defends immediately. “‘Sides,” he adds, casting a wary glance at the shore where Jimin and the others are still fully engrossed in their game, “I wanna kiss you while I fuck you. It’s not as good like this.”

At that, something dangerously close to affection blooms in your belly, winding its curious tendrils around your heart. Swallowing the feeling down, you pick up one of the oars instead, handing it over to him before hefting the other. “Come on,” you murmur. “They’re gonna get suspicious if we’re gone too long.”

Jungkook hums. “Yeah. Probably.”

And then he raises the oar you just handed him, lifting it until the paddle covers both of your faces, and boldly plants a firm kiss on your mouth.

“I’ll row us back,” he declares casually when he pulls away, as if he hasn’t just stolen all the oxygen from your lungs. As if your lips aren’t burning where he’s kissed you, your cheeks hot beneath his gentle exhalations. As if you aren’t positively thrumming with the desire to pull him back in, and maybe take him up on his offer to fuck you in the backseat of his beat-up sedan.

“Yeah,” you say instead, your voice hoarse. “Let’s go.”

///

What few remaining hours of daylight you have, you decide to spend inside. Jungkook gets roped into the water polo match as soon as the two of you return to shore, and you take the opportunity to slip into the house and clean yourself up. Safely locked away in the bathroom, you strip off your damp bikini bottoms and toss them in the sink. The top follows, and you give both a quick wash, doing your best to ignore the remaining slick from your orgasm that stubbornly coats the material.

Once everything is washed and hanging up to dry, you step into the shower. Warm water soaks your hair and slides down your back, and you tilt your head back to let the spray wash your worries away, relishing in the rare moment of peace and quiet.

By the time you’ve toweled off and gotten dressed, you can hear the boys beginning to traipse back into the house. From what you can make out, they’re making dinner plans, and you poke your head out curiously when Jimin mentions you by name.

“What are you saying about me?” you ask, narrowing your eyes accusingly at your brother.

Jimin whirls around, his cherubic face a perfect picture of innocence. “Nothing! I was just talking about your fried rice and how good it is…”

“You’re trying to get me to make you dinner,” you sigh. “I knew it.”

“No, we’ll help!” your brother promises. “I swear, as soon as I get out of the shower, I’ll chop all the vegetables.”

“Sure you will,” you snort, brushing past him and heading for the kitchen.

Much to your surprise, the kitchen is already occupied when you arrive. Jungkook and Yugyeom are at the counter—the former poised with a knife at the ready, about to slice into an onion. The latter is digging through the cabinets, and both turn at the sound of your footsteps.

“Hey,” Yugyeom says. “You probably know where the bottle opener is, right?”

You nod. “Left of the sink, second drawer down.” Then you turn your attention to Jungkook, peering curiously over his shoulder. “What’s the onion for?”

“Dinner,” he replies, flashing you a crooked little smile. “We’re making fried rice, aren’t we?”

Your heart skips a beat in your chest and races to catch up, thumping erratically against your ribcage. It’s hard to ignore the warmth blossoming in your belly—near impossible to ignore the butterflies that have made a home there—but you somehow manage to school your expression into something passably neutral and busy yourself with the other vegetables on the counter. “I see Jimin got to you, too. Is the other cutting board clean?”

Jungkook nods, jabbing a thumb in the direction of the dish rack. “Washed it last night, yeah. It’s all yours, Noona.”

You hum and skirt around Yugyeom to grab the clean board and another knife. Chopping vegetables goes a lot faster with two people, and Yugyeom does his part by cracking open two bottles of beer and plunking one down next to each of you before opening a third for himself. “Hydrate,” he orders, and you roll your eyes before picking it up and taking a sip.

It doesn’t take long to finish making dinner. As promised, Jimin joins you as soon as he’s out of the shower, plucking the knife out of your hand and nudging you aside so he can finish cutting the vegetables. You fire up the stove and drizzle some oil into a pan, and smile when Taehyung brings you the container of leftover rice and a large serving bowl.

“You know what we should do?” Minho asks as you’re all sitting down to eat. Yugyeom’s opened more beers, and Jimin’s brought out the wine as well. Jungkook is spooning out fried rice for everyone, and you accept the bowl he hands you with a murmur of thanks before looking at Minho expectantly.

“What should we do?”

“Go to the beach,” he replies, tilting the remainder of his beer back into his mouth. “It’s only an hour away, isn’t it?”

“Closer to half an hour without traffic,” Jimin corrects. “But, yeah, we should go. That would be fun.”

By the time dinner is finished, you’ve finalized plans to drive down to the beach in the morning. “Remember, we’re leaving at ten,” you tell Jimin, elbowing him in the ribs. “That means you have to wake up before ten.”

“I know!” your brother whines, rubbing the spot where you elbowed him with a grimace. “Jeez, Noona. I’m good at waking up. It’s Jungkook and Tae you have to worry about.”

“Says the punk who takes hour-long showers,” you snark. “What are you gonna do when you have to pay your own water bills, huh?”

“Shower at your place,” he replies smugly. “You can’t turn me away. I’m your brother.”

“Please, that’s exactly why I can turn you away, you little mooch.”

“You love me!”

“Really? You wanna test that theory?”

The remainder of the evening passes in a blur of booze and board games, unearthed from the closet in the hall. Despite your collective agreement to go to bed early, it’s past midnight when you finally bid everyone goodnight and crawl underneath your covers. Shutting your eyes, you will your brain to settle and your limbs to relax, and you’re on the verge of drifting off when your phone suddenly buzzes. Lazily, you roll over and snatch the device off the nightstand, taking in the late hour before your eyes flit down to the new notification and go wide.

[1:02am] Jungkook: IMG_497

You freeze, thumb hovering just above the message. Even when your screen goes dark again, you can’t erase the sight of his name lighting up your phone, the attachment sitting there like a taunt. You shouldn’t open it. You can’t open it.

But curiosity gnaws at your belly, fraying the edges of your resolve. Slowly, you wake the screen, watching as Jungkook’s name fills it once more. You hesitate, bottom lip finding its way between your teeth.

And then your phone buzzes again, several times in quick succession.

[1:04am] Jungkook: i miss you, noona

[1:04am] Jungkook: miss your pretty face

[1:04am] Jungkook: miss how tight your pussy felt around my fingers

You drop the device as if scorched. It takes several moments to gather your wits again, but when you do, pick up your phone, clicking on his name and scrolling up to the attachment. In the darkness of your bedroom, you watch with bated breath as it downloads.

“Fuck.”

The expletive slips past your lips, unbidden, but you can’t help it. Jungkook stares out at you from the photograph illuminating your screen, his eyes hooded and his lips curled into a devious smirk. He’s in the shared bathroom between your bedrooms, and even though it’s dark inside, the flash of his camera is just enough to illuminate the distinctive palm tree patterned shower curtain behind him.

But, you aren’t focused on that.

No, your focus is zeroed in on the foreground of the photo, where you can perfectly make out the head of Jungkook’s cock, sticky and leaking copiously from between his fingers.

“Fuck,” you repeat, louder this time.

And as if reading your mind, another text flashes onto your screen.

[1:07am] Jungkook: wish your pretty little pussy was stretched around my cock right now, princess

You aren’t sure what possesses you to send the response you do, but your thumbs are moving before the more rational side of your brain can catch up and stop you.

[1:07am] You: why don’t you come over and make it happen then?

You’ve only just hit send when the bathroom door swings open, revealing Jungkook standing there in nothing but sweatpants. His face is illuminated in the stark white light shining from his screen, his eyes dark and his smirk even darker. Every movement drips with intent, from the way his lips quirk upward to the way he saunters over to join you on your bed, dropping his phone somewhere amongst the rumpled sheets. The room goes dark.

And then…

“Hey, princess.”

His lips are at your ear, hot breath caressing your cheeks and sending shivers down the length of your spine. The mattress dips beneath his weight as he joins you, a hand finding your bare thigh before sliding up to grasp your hip. Only an oversized t-shirt and a thin pair of cotton panties shield you from his roving fingers, and you can tell from the pleased curve of his mouth that he isn’t going to let either stand in his way. One hand slips beneath the hem of your shirt, dancing along your ribcage, and you let out a breathy gasp when he trails up and skims along the soft skin just below the swell of your breasts.

“Been thinking about you all night, you know,” Jungkook whispers, pushing up your shirt and peppering kisses along every inch of newly revealed flesh. “Been thinking about how pretty you looked, cumming around my fingers, and how much prettier you’d look cumming around my cock.”

Your shirt is long forgotten by this point, tugged overhead and thrown carelessly over his shoulder. Jungkook hauls you closer, slotting himself between your spread legs, and you shiver when he presses the pad of his thumb against your clothed clit, the material uncomfortably damp as it clings to your folds.

“Jungkook—” His name escapes you in an airy whisper. “Please.”

Even in the darkness, you can see the satisfied, self-assured tilt of his lips. “Such a good girl for me,” he croons, leaning down to press a kiss to your waiting mouth. His free hand comes up to cup your cheek while the other remains between your legs, and you gasp sharply when he digs his thumb a little harder against your clit, circling the sensitive bud.

Jungkook seizes upon the opportunity to slip his tongue past your lips, licking into your mouth with unrestrained ardor. Your panties are peeled away, the cottony material disappearing right alongside the pressure of his thumb, and the inadvertent whine that escapes you has him chuckling darkly in his throat.

“What is it, princess?” Jungkook rasps, his voice dipping several pitches. “You have to tell me what you want, remember?”

You clutch at his wrist weakly, tugging it back between your legs until he finally indulges you and resumes his lazy revolutions around your clit. “Want you,” you whisper. “Want you inside me.”

Jungkook lets out a pleased hum, rewarding you with a single finger that he slips into your sopping entrance, your juices aiding the smooth glide as he curls it up in search of the spot that’ll have you seeing stars. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“No, it wasn’t,” you agree shakily. “But it looks like you are, so why don’t you let me help you out?”

Jungkook chuckles softly, his lips ghosting across the swell of your cheek. “Oh, yeah? And how exactly do you plan on helping me?”

Slowly, you reach down, letting your fingers graze the sizable bulge in his sweatpants. “You said it yourself, didn’t you? Me, stretched around your cock?”

A low groan escapes him when you give him a firm stroke, your fingers barely meeting around his length. “On your back,” he commands hoarsely, nudging you backward until you’re nestled into your pillows. Freeing his erection from the confines of his sweatpants, he settles comfortably between your spread legs, the mattress groaning in protest at the shift in weight.

“Wait,” you whisper, grabbing his wrist. “Did you hear that?”

His face scrunches in confusion. “Hear what?” he asks, as if he’s never heard that particular string of words before. “Are you sure it wasn’t just—”

He stops mid-sentence, and you both hear it again—the unmistakable creaking of bedsprings from next door. “Shit!” you hiss, scrambling back on the mattress until you’re nearly pressed against the headboard. “Oh, god. That’s Jimin. He’s going to kill you if he finds you in here—”

On the other side of the wall, the door to the shared bathroom opens, the light flickering on and illuminating the crack beneath your door. You hear your brother cursing sleepily under his breath as the toilet lid clatters open, and nearly shove Jungkook off the bed in your haste to get him out of your room.

“You have to go,” you whisper frantically, herding him toward the door that leads out into the hall.

Jungkook hurriedly pulls his pants back over his hips, and you can practically see him willing his erection to go away. “What am I supposed to say if he asks?”

“I don’t know! Pretend you were going for a glass of water or something!”

With a final push, you shove him out of your bedroom, leaning against the door with a relieved sigh when it clicks shut behind him. You hear Jungkook shuffle off just as Jimin flushes, and cast a prayer up to any deities that may exist as you listen to him wash his hands. And it seems your prayers are answered, as quiet descends over the house once more. Off in the distance, you think you hear Minho snoring.

Letting out another sigh, you return to bed, crawling beneath the covers and getting comfortable. And when sleep finally takes you, you dream of Jeon Jungkook.

[mochegato]

The Road to Asphodel is Paved in Pink

Meet Cute Monday for @boldlyanxious  Hope this makes you smile!

Pink boxes, pink bags, pink dolls, pink instruments, pink goo, pink Legos, pink cars, pink, pink, pink. Everything in the aisle was pink. A hundred different shades of it filled the shelves of the aisle.  Everywhere he looked was pink.  They even put down a pink covering on the floor just to complete the look.  Honestly, it was starting to hurt his eyes.  “Who knew there were so many shades of pink,” Jason grumbled rubbing his eyes.  

He heard a chuckle from down the aisle.  “Trust me it’s worse when it’s an aisle of the same shade of pink.  Like some kind of never-ending fuchsia tunnel to Asphodel.” She shuddered slightly.  “And I like pink.”

“I take it you have experience with this?”  He vaguely motioned around the aisle.

She bobbed her head to the side and hummed noncommittally.  “My friend’s twins will be six this year.  I get them things from time to time just because, so I end up here sometimes.  I’m looking for their birthday this time.  I was thinking of instruments they could play with their moms or their grandpa, but just realized they probably have so many instruments already, so now I’m looking for inspiration.  But the only inspiration I’m getting is pink. Annoying really.  Because apparently that’s the only color girls respond to.”

“I think it’s damaging my retinas,” he chuckled looking back at the shelves of pink.

She chuckled and nodded in agreement before returning her attention to the shelves around her. Jason looked back over at her as she searched the shelves.  He really should be focusing on Lian’s gift.  Her party started soon so he didn’t have time to waste flirting with random women in the toy aisle, but his eyes kept wandering back to her.  It could be because they wanted a break from the sea of pink attempting to sear his eyes, but more likely it was because she was stunning and looking at her made him feel lighter.  

After a few minutes she quirked her head to the side and grabbed a box.  She puckered her lips as she looked toward it, her eyes unfocused and her brow furrowed as though planning.  Jason watched her face run through a few expressions as she thought through whatever she was planning, each expression cuter than the last one. Finally she gave a quick nod and dropped the box into her shopping basket.

“Finally figured it out huh?” he smiled at her.

“Yeah.  They like playing with hair so I’m going to get this hair glitter and chalk set and some of the Hello Kitty brushes I saw by the entrance and make a bunch of barrettes and headbands.”  She grinned proudly at him.  “And not one of the damn things will be pink in retaliation against all of this.”  She motioned around them.

He barked out a laugh and nodded appreciatively.  “Damn. That’s a really good idea.  But Lian isn’t quite there yet.”

She smiled and moved so she was standing closer to him, close enough now that he could run his fingers along her jaw if he wanted.  Well, not if he wanted because he did want, rather if he thought it would be received well.  His fingers twitched to try until he finally had to clench them into fists to stop them.  “Okay, well… what does she like?  I mean, if you want some help.  I know you didn’t ask…”

“No!  No, please.  Please help me.”  He gave her a charming smile before reminding himself what her question was.  He sighed and pulled out his phone to check his texts. “I don’t know…  He said she likes ‘girl things’.”

“Girl things…” she repeated slowly with an unamused raised eyebrow.  “Like saws and computer programs and syringes?  Or things girls didn’t invent just enjoy?”

Jason stared at her for a few seconds before chuckling and looking back at the toys with a sheepish smile. “I don’t think that’s what the idiot meant.”

“So I take it this isn’t your daughter?”

“No.  My best friend’s daughter.”

“Okay, well, your best friend is no help at all.  No offense.” She gave him a smirk that suggested she didn’t really care if she did offend. He smiled back at her and nodded in agreement with her assessment.  “What do you know about her?” she continued.  “How old will she be?”

“She’s turning four,” he started slowly, trying to order all his memories into a useful resource.  “She’s smart.  She likes engines and coloring and painting.  She LOVES cats.  Her favorite color is red.”

Marinette nodded.  “She sounds very smart and artistic.”

“Yeah.  She is constantly painting pictures for me.  My first thought was a book, a children’s classic she could keep for a while, but she recognizes letters but can’t read yet. So that’s out,” he grumbled.

“I don’t know, it sounds like you have two perfect gifts there.” He looked at her questioningly.  “More paint so she can paint more pictures for you,” her voice became increasingly excited as she thought through the gift. “There are art kits a few aisles over or there’s an art store a few doors down.  Or a book, just because she can’t read it doesn’t mean you can’t read it to her, and I bet she’ll think that’s even better.  Or you could do both.  I’m sure there are tons of kids’ books about painting or colors that you could get along with some paint.”

He nodded as he thought about what book to get her and what art supplies.  “That’s…” his words trailed off as he looked back up at her. Her eyes were sparkling with excitement and the only thing he could think was “…perfect.”

She cocked her head to the side and watched him curiously.  “Hmm?”

He shook his head quickly. “Your idea, it’s perfect.  Thank you for helping me.  I’m Jason by the way.”  He held his hand out to shake hers.

She shook his hand with a brilliant smile.  “Hi Jason. It’s nice to meet you.  I’m Marinette.”

“Which would you recommend for the art supplies?” He asked, hoping to draw out the conversation.

She puckered her lips as she thought about it.  “Depends on what she has already and how seriously she takes her art.  There’s plenty here for a four year old.  But, if she knows the difference between shades and gets upset she can’t get the exact color she wants, like I did at that age, you might want a more complete set than is available here.  Or if the brushes aren’t doing what she wants, there will be more options at the art store.”

He grinned at the thought of a four year old version of Marinette stomping her feet in frustration because she couldn’t get the right shade of pink on her painting.  “Sounds like you were really into art.”

Marinette laughed awkwardly. “Yeah, I was very… particular.” She shrugged and brushed her bangs behind her ear.  “Still am.”

“So you’re an artist,” he prompted her.

She gave him a relieved smile, grateful for a change in topic.  “A designer, yeah.  You?”

“A… uh… bodyguard.  So you know, if your body needs guarding, let me know.”  He waggled his eyebrows at her.

Marinette laughed and shook her head as she looked down.  “I’ve got it covered but thanks for the offer.”

He pouted slightly. That was one of his better lines.  Clearly a different approach would be necessary, one less superficial and more honest, one more conducive to starting an actual relationship, which he didn’t mind in the least.  “What do you design?”

“Clothing.”  She smiled brightly up at him.

He shot her a crooked smile and leaned closer to her.  “Ah… so you’ve been silently judging my outfit for the last five minutes or so.”

“Longer than that,” she smirked at him.

He perked up and shot a smug smile at her.  “Sounds like you haven’t been able to take your eyes off of me.”

“Oh, don’t be so hard on yourself,” she consoled him wryly.  “Your outfit isn’t that bad.”

He pursed his lips for a moment before bursting out into laughter.  “Can I talk you into helping me pick out some paint supplies and a book? Maybe I can repay you somehow?”

“Yeah, I can do that. No repayment necessary.  I want to make sure Lian, was it?” She looked to him uncertainly.  He nodded at her.  She nodded with a smile.  “I wouldn’t want Lian to end up with something in terrible taste.”

“Hey!  I have great taste.”  He objected with a mock offended scoff.

She looked him up and down playfully.  “Yeah, sure you do.”

He laughed again, his laughter echoing off the pink around them.  He took a step closer to her.  “Did you want to come with me to the party, too?  You’re helping pick out the gift after all.  It’s only fair you get to join in the spoils.”

She smiled shyly, but didn’t back away.  “No thank you.  It sounds like a really special event for your friend.  I don’t want to intrude on that.”

“You wouldn’t be intruding. I’m sure my friend would welcome another adult there to help corral the chaos, but I understand not wanting to go.”  He moved a step closer again, his eyes becoming softer.  “But, since you’re going to miss out on the cake and food, how about I take you out to dinner instead to thank you for your help?  I really would have been lost if you hadn’t helped.”

She smiled brilliantly up at him.  “I’d like that.”

[garbagevanfleet]

Brightest Blue (series)

PART ELEVEN

Pairing: Josh x reader Warnings: talk of sex and such, feelings Summary:  Things are changing. New state. New school. New roommate. You just pray things are going to click into place.

Notes: alright, this is terribly late again because im a depressed snail at heart, but its longer than usual, so i hope that makes up for it. If you read my fic at all, i love you. If you interact with this fic in anyway, i want to wed you. 

taglist: @valleyd0ll @satingrass-maidensfair @guitarfingers @thebohemianpenguin @peaceisouranthem @oblvions @hansonobsessed @myownparadise96 @anditsmywholeheart @kill-fear-the-power-of-lies @bigblack-catattack

MASTERPOST

You woke up in a daze of fuzzy but pleasant memories. You were trying to blink the sleep from your eyes when Josh entered your line of sight. He had emerged from the hallway, completely naked save for the necklace he’d been in the night before, little water droplets slipping from his curls to his shoulders. 

You shot up in bed, and as you did, the comforter fell away from your body. It took you a moment for you to realize that it was the air hitting your bare skin that was making you feel chilled, but it didn’t last long. Your face turned beet red as you quickly picked the sheet back up to cover yourself. 

He was giving you an odd look - somewhere between amused and concerned. “Are you alright?” he tried cautiously, still standing there stark naked. 

“Josh! You can’t just walk around naked,” you complained, stuttering on your words as they came out. 

He snorted a laugh. “What? First of all, this is my room. Second of all, it’s a little late to try and protect your modesty.”

You rolled your eyes at him until you realized what he was talking about. “Oh my god, we had sex last night,” you whispered to him like it was a secret, a tiny smile on your lips. 

He nodded, breathing a laugh. “Yeah.”

You experimentally shifted in your seat before grimacing up at him. “That would explain why I’m sitting in a damp spot.”

You could only describe the laugh that escaped him as a cackle, honest and unabashed. “Gross.”

You had to say you agreed with him. 

There was a cautious moment, where you stared at each other, both unsure of what to say. 

“Are we good?” he tried quietly like he was a little scared of what you were going to say.

You patted the spot next to you and he clambered in as he was told. You leaned against him as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder. 

“Of course, we are,” you assured, nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck. 

“If it’s going to make you feel better to pretend it didn’t happen, I wouldn’t be mad.”

You pulled away and looked up at him with a frown. “What are you talking about?”

He shrugged, sporting a nervous smile. “I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

You heaved a big sigh, shifting to look into his eyes. “Josh, I want you to listen to me really carefully, okay?”

He nodded.

You slowly reached up to cup one side of his face in your hand. “I don’t regret it - actually, I had a really nice night. I just think that it would be best for everyone involved if it didn’t happen again. We probably shouldn’t be romantic...or naked around each other.”

The expression he wore seemed like an understanding one, at least to you.

“You want me to make pancakes? Maybe chocolate chip banana?” you offered, giving him a cheeky smile. 

He couldn’t help but match it. “Yes. You’re probably going to want to put your tits away first though.”

“You first,” you quipped, smacking the back of your hand against his peck. 

+++

The rest of the weekend, the two of you spent watching Christmas movies on the couch (even though the holiday was more than a month away) while you worked on sewing the costumes. Josh had offered to ask the theater department if you could borrow a sewing machine, but you had been way too afraid of it to try and use it, so it sat in your room alone. That did, however, leave you to sew 26 costumes by hand. Well, more like 24, since Rachel had two of them mostly done. 

You were finding it oddly fun though, even though your fingers hurt by the fifth stitch or so. The hardest part was making sure you worked on the basics of every costume first - your instinct was to work on one at a time until it was perfect, but you knew you had to be smart about time management. Luckily, even though it was only near mid-November, Michigan’s weather was lovably unpredictable. The weather station had called for snow only through the weekend, but, in reality, it was Monday evening by the time it was done dumping snow - giving you a full three day weekend. 

Kate had been sending you pictures of the pieces of the set she had taken home with her to work on, and you couldn’t hide how impressed you were with her work. You would almost be offended at how good it looked if you hadn’t known she was an Art History major with a heavy side of sculpture work. 

In the last two weeks before the production, you barely got to see Josh. He would walk you to school, but then you usually wouldn’t see him for the entire rest of the day. You tried to wait up for him on Thursday night, but you ended up falling asleep on the couch, and woke at 1 am to him gently patting your shoulder. 

“Hey, you should get up and go to your bed.”

You blinked up at him, sitting up and brushing your sleep-mussed hair from your eyes. 

“You’re home so late,” you scolded half-heartedly, pulling your borrowed sweatshirt closer to your face. 

“I know, sorry. There’s still a lot to do, especially after we got snowed in last weekend,” he replied, sitting gingerly on the armrest. 

“I told you that I’m happy to help however I can.”

He smiled at you, but you had to admit that he looked over-tired. You’d been watching him burn the candle at both ends for three days straight. “It’s a lot of stuff that only I can do. Like going over the music and making the final set diagrams.”

You hummed in understanding as a response. 

“Want me to carry you to bed? You can come sleep in mine if you want,” he offered through a crinkly-nosed smile. 

You grinned back at him, genuine at first, but it quickly turned melancholy. “Josh,” you said under your breath. “I’d love that, but I don’t think it’s good for us to share a bed anymore.”

His expression fell, face turning blank. He nodded at you, standing and giving you a disappointed smile. “Sleep well,” he wished, patting your shoulder again once before retreating to his room. 

You stayed on the couch for a while, your knees tucked up to your chest, as you sat in your guilt. You had known it was stupid of you to have ever let things turn anything other than platonic with him - it had been undeniably fun, but he was your roommate, for fuck’s sake. You had to see him every day, eat your meals with him. Had you not selfishly let yourself go there in the first place, you’d be cuddled up beside him tonight. 

It had been so lovely having any kind of affection - platonic or otherwise - that you let yourself get carried away. 

When you finally got up and went to bed, Josh’s light was still on, his door shut for one of the first times since you moved in. 

+++

Kate took you out for breakfast on Saturday morning to a local hole-in-the-wall that she swore had the very best pancakes she’d ever eaten. She had shown up in a puffer jacket that looked so warm, it made you jealous. 

You’d been chatting easily about your classes and the play, but when you had finished your first cup of coffee, there was a lull in the conversation. 

You hadn’t meant to say it, it just bubbled out. “I slept with Josh.”

She glanced up at you through her jet black lashes, stony-faced. “Yeah,” she replied, way too calm, sounding like she was wondering why you were even telling her.

You blinked at her for a moment. “Did you hear me? I had sex with Josh.”

She nodded. “Do you want me to pretend like I’m shocked?”

You grimaced at her, and in a whiny tone, responded, “Yes, please.”

A nervous laugh escaped her as she fixed her features to display a surprised expression. “You did what?!” she asked - purely for your benefit. 

You groaned at her. “Okay, I get it. I feel so bad about it, Kate.”

Her cherry lips shaped into a puzzled frown.  “Why?”

A deep sigh filled your ribcage - you had been hoping it would clear your head, but no luck. 

“Because I desperately miss being able to be platonically intimate with him and it not being awkward. Before this, I was sleeping in his bed from time to time when I got too cold and we would cuddle.”

“Why can’t you go back to that?” 

“Are you listening? I slept with him,” you groaned. “All I can think about is him on top of me now.”

She scoffed, her chipped nails tapping against her glass of diet Coke. “Imagine how he feels - Josh had real, honest to god feelings for you, I think. Like for a while.”

“You said that, but I don’t know. How do you know that he didn’t just want to sleep with me? Like not in a conscious way, but what if he just wanted affection? What then, Kate?”

She had one dark eyebrow raised at you as she sipped at her straw. “Because I know that’s not true.”

“How would you be able to know that? Because you see him sometimes at school-” 

She cut you off with a confident smile. “I know because I talked to Jake about it.”

You almost blew past it - that is until you realized what she had said. The two of you shared a long, silent moment as you stared at each other. 

“You’ve been talking to Jake?” you asked, trying to keep your tone even so she didn’t know how excited that made you. 

“I have talked to him in the past, yes. He said that he already knew, but he was able to pry it out of Josh when he was drunk once.” 

You stared at her. “Okay, there’s a lot to unpack here right now, I think we can both agree with that. But can we start with you and Jake?” 

She huffed a disbelieving laugh as she set her hand on yours on the table comfortingly like she was trying to cushion the news. “Josh has some feelings for you - the real kind.”

In an effort to prolong the moment that it was time for you to speak again, you picked up a bite of your breakfast and popped it in your mouth. The moment always comes though, no matter how long you try to put it off. 

“I can’t,” you said quietly, shaking your head in disappointment. Then when she prompted you with a confused look, you finished. “I can’t risk it. I mean, maybe there could be something there, but he’s my roommate. And my best friend - there’s no way I’d ever get lucky enough again to find someone I connected with like that if things went sour and I had to move out.”

She licked her lips absently. “My advice would be to think about it - for literally as long as you need to. I’m confident that you’ll figure out what you want.”

You nodded, not entirely convinced one way or another. “It’s hard because he’s so fucking cute,” you said in faux disgust. 

“And sweet,” she added. “Don’t forget that.”

You shot her an accusatory look. 

After a long pause, a smile found its way to your lips. “How cool would it be though if we were both dating one of them?” 

She laughed, picking a syrup-covered strawberry off her plate and chewing it with care. “Not me, I can’t be tamed. Jake is really hot and everything, but I got shit to do, you know?”

You scoffed at her. 

“I’m definitely keeping him in my contacts though,” she said with mischievous eyes. 

+++

 You didn’t directly see Josh for the rest of the weekend, though he left evidence of his presence scattered through the apartment. He had left his hair mousse out on the sink and the toothpaste cap off of its tube in the bathroom, some crumbs of a sandwich he packed for lunch in the kitchen, and a note on his bedroom door. 

Can you please feed Penny a couple of flakes for dinner? If you have any time today, I’d appreciate it if you could spend some of it with her. See you sometime soon! - J

You plucked the paper off the door where it was barely hanging by a thin strip of green floral tape and smiled as you read it again. 

His bedroom was dim, hid away from the sun by his closed blinds. The desk by his door was covered in books - textbooks, music books, books for his English lit class, and one you’d seen him reading for fun on more than one occasion. On the hardwood floor next to his bed was a stack of papers, and even though you knew you shouldn’t you crouched to peek through them. 

They appeared to be rough drafts of plans for the play - nothing too exciting, but they were charmingly eccentric. He had done little doodles of his ideas for sets and props, even a whole sheet of costume ideas that caught your eye. You pulled it from the messy stack and folded it into your pocket. 

Careful not to spill any water, you moved Penny in her globe to your bedside table, but as you stared at her through the glass you frowned. 

You pulled your phone out and snapped a picture of her, trying to make sure you got an accurate portrayal of her size. She looked at you, sticking her lips out of the water in search of food. You remembered Josh’s warning about overfeeding her the first day you’d met him and it brought a genuine smile to your lips. You promised her you’d be back, holding your finger just above the water and letting her press her mouth to it. 

On the ride over to Petsmart, you had called your mom, asking if it would be okay if you borrowed some cash, to which she agreed to after her usual line of questioning. When you pulled into the parking lot, you checked your bank account just to make sure it transferred okay, always nervous that you’d get to the register and your card would decline.

You spent longer than you should have reading articles online as you studied the tanks, all set up in rows for purchase. They weren’t as expensive as you’d expect a water-sealed glass box to be, and after you were confident you had picked the right one, you still had plenty left in your budget for the dressings. 

You picked a couple of fun decorations - a fake log for her to hide in if she wanted to and one that looked like part of a broken Greecian statue. The part that took you the longest was picking out the healthiest-looking plants. You had read that goldfish often like to eat live plants, but you couldn’t bring yourself to buy fake ones - the plant lover in you knew it was a cardinal sin. 

A very kind cashier agreed to help you carry your haul to your car, even helping you shift it all correctly so you could make it fit. You left him a secret tip, even though he denied at first, and thanked him profusely.

Getting the tank into the apartment was the hardest part. You realized just how lucky you were that you didn’t live above the first floor. 

By the time you got the tank situated back on his dresser, your muscles - especially in your legs - were protesting, but you weren’t done yet. You grabbed an empty ice cream pail and started to fill the tank, one trip at a time until it was about 3/4’s full of water. 

The decorations had to be shifted multiple times before you liked their position enough to start pouring in the gravel around them. A Youtube tutorial taught you exactly how much of each chemical to add and how to put together the filter, and then you left it to cycle as you returned to your room.

Perched on your bed, you pulled the sheet of costumes from your pocket and studied it. You pinned it to your corkboard. Undeniably, the cutest design he had come up with was for the door mouse - grey fabric, huge ears, and a rope tail. 

The rest of the unfinished costumes were in a cardboard box by the side of your bed - you hadn’t moved it anywhere because you knew you’d be back at it before too long at any given time. You bent down off the side of your bed and rummaged through the different fabrics until you found the one you were looking for - a grey-blue faux suede deal. You were pretty sure you had enough to make it work. 

You fished your phone out from where you had buried it under the covers when you shifted and called the one person that could help. 

“Hello?” Kate mumbled, sounding like you’d just woken her up despite it being noon. 

You giggled at her. “Hi, I’m playing my best friend card. I know you’ve helped so much, but can you please please come work on these costumes with me?”

She hummed and then went silent for a good, long moment. “Give me ten to wake up and get dressed.”

A beaming smile spread across your face. “Kate, I love you so much. I’m going to Venmo you money to get coffee and donuts, okay?”

“Hmm, I do like donuts.” She sounded pleased.

“Good! Bring Jake too.”

+++

The knock on your door came a half-hour later. You jumped from your bed, racing to let them in. Jake was dressed in the softest-looking flannel shirt you’d ever seen, a drink carrier in his hands that housed three drink cups. 

“Okay, so there are three jobs that need to be done. Measuring and marking, cutting, and sewing. If we each take one of those jobs, I’m confident we can finish a couple of the costumes today. I’ll let you guys pick first,” you informed as you lead them into your room. 

“I’ll take cutting,” Kate said, prompting Jake to reply that he’d like measuring. 

You handed Jake the notebook of measurements with a grin. “Rachel,” you started with a sneer. “Did a lot of the calculations for us, thank god. All you have to do is measure out the fabric. The tricky part is making sure you do it in a way that will leave enough fabric for the rest of the costumes.”

“Not a problem,” Jake responded with a smirk. “And I think her name is just ‘Rachel’, not ‘Rachel’.”

Kate shot him a look on your behalf. “I think she was just making a referencing the fact that Rachel left your brother with a huge ass list of things to do completely alone, not that she was jealous.”

“Jealous of what?” you asked accusatorily, a scowl painted on your face. 

Jake put both of his hands up in defense., but he didn’t appear apologetic in the slightest. Smugly, he said, “I’m just saying-”

Kate reached out and smacked his chest. “Jake, shut up. Okay, what one should we start on?”

“I’m going to have Jake start with this one.” You turned to the page in the notebook that showed the measurements for the door mouse, laying it out by him. “This is the main fabric. Kate, I have a lot of the Queen of Heart’s fabric measured and marked already, so I’ll have you start cutting that. There’s a lot of little pieces to that one.”

Kate looked at the six different fabrics you’d laid out for her, one eyebrow cocked at you. “Have you been getting any of your own homework done at all?”

Your cheeks flushed as you nervously rubbed at the back of your neck. “Let’s stay on track, shall we?” you replied, pretty much answering her question. “We’ve got one week until the production, and I know the costumes have to be done at least a day ahead of time.”

They both just stared at you in varying stages of disbelief. 

“Don’t look at me like that. We can do this,” you assured, sounding a hell of a lot more confident than you actually were. “Now let’s get to work.”

+++

When Josh got home, you were nearly sleeping on the couch, the remains of your current project in your lap. You peeked at the clock.

10:54 pm. 

“You’re home so late,” you whispered, for no particular reason. 

“I know,” he agreed, wiping his hand over his face after he took his jacket off. 

“Come sit with me a minute,” you requested, shifting so he would have space. He gave you a grateful smile, immediately crossing the room to do as he was told. 

After a moment, he cautiously wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “Is this okay?” he asked quietly. 

You gave him a smile. “Yeah, it’s perfect.”

You knew he must have been tired because he wasn’t talking a mile a minute like you were used to after not seeing him for long. 

“Are you hungry?” you asked.

He hummed, sounding like he was close to passing out. “I am, but I can make myself something.”

You scoffed, “Absolutely not. You got get into bed and I’ll bring something to you in a second.”

He reluctantly got up off the couch and clambered into his room. You waited patiently for him to notice the surprise, grinning to yourself when you heard him gasp. 

You listened as you made him a sandwich, and you couldn’t hear exactly what he was saying, but you knew he was talking to Penny just by the tone of his voice.

As you rounded the corner into his room, he turned and gave you a smile as bright as the sun. 

“Did you do this, or did Fish Santa come early?” he asked, his finger pressed against the glass of the tank. 

“Well, kind of both,” you responded through a laugh as you sat next to him on the bed and delivered his sandwich to his lap. “You can consider it your early Christmas present.”

He stared at you for a long beat, looking like he might cry. You knew you’d never be able to handle that, so you pulled him in for a hug, tightening your arms around him when he hugged you back. 

“You’ve been working so hard,” you whispered. “I miss my best friend.”

He turned his face, pressing his nose into your cheek in a move that felt a step or two farther than friends.

“I’ve put everything I have into this,” he admitted, and you were too scared to ask if he meant the play or something else. You sat like that with him for a long moment before he pulled away, giving you a thankful smile. 

“I’m sure you need time to decompress, so I’ll leave you be. Eat and then get some sleep, okay?” You stood and headed for the door, turning when he called your name. 

“Thank you,” he said.

[elen-aranel]

Christmas Treats

For: @autumnleaves1991-blog & @clydesducktape Writer Wednesday. <3 Pairing: Steve Rogers x F!Reader (no Y/N) Warnings: Fluff. Gratuitous fluff. You and Steve Rogers and decorating cookies and a Date. WC: 6.3k words A/N: This got awayyy from meeeee Like, I started, ok, this is cute, should get it done on Wednesday, then it was Thursday, and now it’s Monday and I JUST FINISHED. Writer hasn’t been to New York. This is set in New York. I did “research” (I googled). Anyway, set in a kind of vague wish fulfilment universe some time after Winter Soldier, I hope you enjoy! <3

It figures, you think sourly to yourself as you eye the two kilos of icing sugar that you just weighed out, mounded like so much snow, that you would be the only one assigned to the kitchen who could make it in today. The day of the holiday party.

You dump the first lot in the sieve, holding your breath for a moment as the sweet cloud of sugar envelops you, and begin working it through with the back of a dessert spoon.

Macy did sound terrible when she called you this morning, though. You could barely hear her. Tara is a cute little toddler but she’s also a germ factory, and Macy had gone down hard with a cold.

And Ahmed hadn’t sounded much better; he blamed his brother, a soccer coach, for passing the bug on to him, but regardless of who was to blame, he couldn’t come.

Emory had gone upstate to visit her parents for the weekend and drop off Christmas presents, since she’s going to spend Christmas in LA with her boyfriend Rafael’s parents for the first time. And while the freak snowstorm wasn’t her fault, part of you wishes you were the one snowed in with family.

And Steve? Who knew where he was. You saw him yesterday and he said he was going out for drinks with his roommate. With retrospect, you should have realised that meant a no-show today. If his dad wasn’t a trustee here, someone would’ve fired him, you think.

New York was supposed to be a new start for you. A new city, new friends, maybe a new partner. But you feel a bit lonely, especially given time of year; your family is in England, but you can’t afford the air fare to go home for Christmas, and even though there are literally millions of guys – and girls – in New York City, after several disaster dates you’ve given up on finding someone for you.

So now you’re here, the only one available to bake for the kids’ Christmas party and these cupcakes won’t ice themselves, and there’s still gingerbread to bake and sandwiches to cut and and...

You take a breath. One thing at a time. You’ve got this. You look at the list you had made with your colleagues when you were planning everything. Gingerbread in the oven, ice the cupcakes, make the sandwiches, decorate the gingerbread.

You count your blessings: at least you have a scale. You tried to get the hang of cups when you were baking for July 4th, you really did, but they’re just so... unpredictable. You have resigned yourself to temperatures in Fahrenheit, however.

You turn the mixer on a little too fast, creating another dusty cloud of sugar which settles on your skin and all over your clothes. You’re wearing an apron, but it doesn’t do much to protect your green elf dress, and you wish you’d worn your normal clothes then changed when the baking was done.

You didn’t do that, though, because even though you came really early you knew you’d be too busy to fit it in. And you had abandoned the idea of still looking nice by the time the Avengers get here while you were still weighing out flour. Now you’ll settle for getting all the food ready on time. It’s not about you, you tell yourself sternly. It’s for the sake of the kids in this neighbourhood, who deserve a treat. They’re few enough and far enough between. And at least the air tastes good with all the sugar in it.

You do love baking, it’s just that decorating isn’t your strong suit. You don’t have a natural talent at it, and haven’t had enough practice, not really. You scoop the pale green buttercream into an icing bag resting in a tall glass – thanks YouTube – and sigh.

You have the right piping nozzles, which do make a difference, but Emory can make those perfect roses and Ahmed’s eye for design meant the cake you made that he decorated at Halloween looked wonderful too. Even Steve is better at it than you. You can kind of do swirls, so you try – a blob of icing in the middle, then round, round, stop squeezing and hope the flow of buttercream stops in time for it to look looks elegant and not a mess.

The ones on Pinterest look like Christmas trees. Yours are a more… well. You step back and eye them critically. Hopefully the red sprinkles and gold star shape chocolates to top them off are enough distract from the uneven icing.

“Everything smells amazing. Is that ginger?” Ayesha has an arm full of red and green balloons as she steps in through the back door, followed by Marcus, her partner, with the first box of hampers. She’s in a thick coat but it’s unzipped, and what you can see of her red sequin dress looks cute, especially with the gold beads in her braids.

“Yeah, I’m just getting the gingerbread out.” You’ve pulled put the oven gloves back on and are opening the oven door, and Ayesha’s right, the hot air that wafts out smells very good. The gingerbread is perfectly cooked, too – little gingerbread men, snowflakes, and Christmas trees. You set the first sheet down to get the rest of them out.

“Is it just you in here?” Marcus asks in his rumbling bass on his way back out to the car park.

“Yep, just me. Macy and Ahmed are both ill, and Emory is still stuck at her parents’. I’m kind of hoping for Steve?”

He pulls a face and you do too – you both know Steve is not likely to show.

“I’d love to give you a hand but we’re running late as it is – the hall still looks like a bomb hit it from yesterday, so we’re going to be all hands on deck too. I just need to get the last boxes out the minibus then I’m on garland duty, Ayesha says.” He opens the door, and a couple of other people you don’t know very well come in, both laden.

“No it’s okay, I understand. It’s fine. Macy called me first thing, so I came down early – I’ve got everything under control. Sandwiches next.” You smile, and if it doesn’t touch your eyes Marcus probably doesn’t notice.

A few more people come in while you’re spreading the bread – not Steve – but everyone else has made it. You can hear banging noises coming through from the hall, and the occasional curse.

By the time you start on the fillings – PB&J, turkey and cranberry, veggie wraps – the Christmas music has started. You sing along with Mariah as you arrange little triangles on platters.

The heated nibbles are warming in the oven, the ginger and orange punch is mixed, and you’re contemplating the gingerbread and its green, white, and red icing when you hear the door again. You frown – everyone else is here, and guests will come in through the front. Everyone else, that is, except—

“Steve, oh thank goodness. You’re just in time to save my life. I need you to work your magic on this gingerbread like you did with the stars and stripes on the sugar cookies on the 4th of July. Everything’s ready. You just need to wash your hands, put on a hairnet, and get started. There’s an apron hanging just inside the door.”

You turn round, brandishing an icing bag. And... there’s... it’s... well, he is a Steve, standing there. But not the Steve you’re expecting. The Steve you’re expecting has dark hair, and a wiry build, and is alright looking but nothing special. This Steve is tall, blue eyed, muscled, handsome, wearing dark jeans and a fleece lined coat, carrying a garment bag, and a round case which must hold his shield.

“Stars and stripes sugar cookies are in breach of Title 4 of the US code. But you’re English.” He shrugs, face breaking into a grin. “I’ll give you a pass.”

“I’m so sorry Captain Rogers.” You’re pleased with how calm your voice sounds, considering you’re talking to an Avenger. “I thought you’d all be coming through the front. And like, not for another, er... I don’t know. I’m losing track of time here.”

“No, I’m sorry. This isn’t far from my old neighbourhood... I don’t often get a chance to go back. So this seemed like a good opportunity. I emailed... ah... Macy Garcia? She said it would be fine to change here.”

Of course he had. And Macy must be worse than you thought if she forgot to tell you.

“Macy’s sick, so she couldn’t be here. There’s no one in the office, so you’re welcome to use it. I’d better get to my decorating... I don’t think our Steve is going to make it. But I’ll definitely tell him about the sugar cookies. I’m sure he wouldn’t want to be unpatriotic.” You grin. “Office is through that door,” you wave your piping bag in the right direction, and he starts moving.

You glare down at a gingerbread man, before piping two little blobs for eyes. In the future when you tell this story it’ll probably seem funny, but for now... telling Captain America to save you by decorating cookies? You do the buttons, scarf, and mouth, and then pipe a couple of lines for eyebrows. The gingerbread man glares back up at you.

“You weren’t kidding, were you? About saving your life? I think that gingerbread man actually wants to kill you.”

You laugh, startled. Captain America is back, but not in uniform – he’s in a white button down, sleeves pushed up exposing his forearms, and he is wearing the navy-blue apron. And a hairnet.

“Uh... Captain Rogers, what are you doing?”

“Steve. I’m helping. You’re on your own, you’re clearly doing at least three people’s work here, and I think someone else had better handle the gingerbread men, at least, or the little ones will cry. I’m early... might as well put the time to good use.”

“Thank you,” you say, heartfelt. “I hate this part. I do like baking, but I don’t have artistic talent.”

“I don’t believe that. Your tree cakes look really good,” he says, taking the white icing bag from you, and adding eyes to a dozen cookies in short order. You pull over some tree shapes and start piping green dots.

“That’s kind of you to say. The sprinkles are doing the heavy lifting, really, but I’m glad they work. I think I’ve been looking at them too long.”

“Yeah. I get that. Can I have the red please?”

Captain America – Steve – is surprisingly easy to talk to. You introduce yourself properly and ask him about growing up in New York. He tells you about what Brooklyn was like when he lived there. You don’t want to push, but he seems happy to chat. In return you tell him about London as it is now – he’s passed through it, of course, but you find yourself telling him about trying to ride at the front of trains on the DLR, and how you would pretend to be the train driver when you were a kid. How you miss your annual trip to Oxford Street to look at the Christmas lights.

“So… and please forgive me if I’ve got the timing wrong here, but do you remember prohibition? That’s one of the strangest bits of American history to me. That and that you still make people wait until they’re 21 to drink even though you know they’ll do it younger. Well. Not you personally,” you add, reaching for where you left the white icing bag. But instead of the bag you find you’ve grasped a warm hand. “Oh, uh, sorry,” you say, stifling your intake of breath as you release him. It’s ridiculous, but you think you almost felt a spark, like electricity.

“You need this? I’m just—” he squeezes the bag in his right hand, making an impossibly delicate little deer shape on—

“You iced, frosted, a Christmas jumper for a gingerbread man? You are amazing. If you ever get bored of saving the world you could start a bakery.”

He laughs, and it’s a lovely sound. “I draw. This is… not the same, but it’s close. If I quit saving the world that’s what I’d do. But yes, I do remember prohibition. I was still too young to drink when it ended, and I never went to a speakeasy, but we all knew where they were…”

You feel like you’re standing a little closer as you go back to decorating. You find yourself leaning across each other to swap colours, kind of bumping into each other. You realise you’ve relaxed. You feel comfortable. Steve lets you pipe a last scarf on a gingerbread man – he did all the faces, and you cheerfully admit they look a lot less murder-y than yours. The trees are done, too, with their green and red baubles and white snow.

“Snowflakes? I’ll just turn the oven down and fill another bag with white.”

“Sure. I’ll get started.”

You stare in admiration at Steve’s snowflakes, contrasting them to the couple you’ve done. His are elegant. “Mine always come out so blobby,” you frown. You didn’t mean to say that aloud.

“Pipe another. Let me see.”

You do, trying to be careful – just a simple design, spokes with a star shape in the middle. It’s hard to keep control, though, and you grip the bag tightly, willing it to co-operate. And of course it’s even harder with an audience.

“You need to relax. Relax your grip. I’m not an expert at this, clearly, but I think you’re nervous and you’re trying too hard. See,” he comes and stands behind you, putting his arms round you and taking the piping bag. “Hold my hands. Feel how I do it.”

You do, feeling awkward, yes, but also… safe, surrounded by his strong, warm arms. And definitely turned on, a little voice inside you says. But you squash it down, concentrating on how Steve holds the bag, the pressure he exerts, and the sureness of his movements. He does have a lighter touch than you.

“Now you try.”

You slide another snowflake over and exhale. You don’t have to prove anything. Today isn’t about you. And you’ll never see Steve in the flash again... you might as well enjoy this moment before the party starts and everything gets crazy.

You hold that feeling in your head as you pipe, watching as the design grows.

“I did it! No blobs,” you exclaim, turning to him with a proud smile on your face. “Thank you.” This close you can see how beautiful his eyes are, and you find yourself staring into them—

“We’re ready to start putting food out,” Ayesha calls from the other end of the kitchen, and you find yourself stepping away like you’ve been caught, feeling flustered. “Are the sandwiches ready to go?”

“Yes, you can, uh, come and collect them. There’s cheese bites and pigs in blankets and some... veggie... things? I forgot what the packet said – in the oven keeping warm. But we can put those out when people come. I don’t know when you want the sweets, we’ve got a bit more gingerbread left to decorate.”

“No, leave the star there—ok, yeah that’s fine.” Ayesha turns back to you. “Great. I’ll start with the sandwiches. The kids are due in fifteen and the Avengers in half an hour. Wait, we? No way Steve is here...” she blinks in your direction, seeing Steve Rogers for the first time. “Wow...uh...”

“Hi, sorry, I got here a bit early and thought I’d help out. We’re just finishing up.”

You can practically see her shake herself mentally. “That’s very generous of you, sir. I–er... do you need anything?”

“I’m fine. I’m going to change in the office afterwards.” Steve gives her a little smile, then bends his head to focus on the next snowflake. Ayesha meets you eye, a disbelieving look on her face. You shrug in reply, and go back to your piping. And when she’s left? Maybe you find yourself a little closer to Steve again.

All too soon you find yourself finishing the last snowflake together.

“Thank you so much for your help,” you say, as you slot it into the gap on the last plate. “I really appreciate it – it turned a chore into something... something fun.”

“It was my pleasure,” he says, making eye contact for a long moment, and for a second you forget where you are, gazing into his eyes again, admiring the colours you see there. You enjoy it – this will be your only chance. Finally he takes a breath, and it sounds a little harsh. “I’d better—”

“Yes of course. I’ll just—” you move round each other a little awkwardly, and you busy yourself organising the cakes and treats, making sure there’s room for the food to come out of the oven.

You’re glad you don’t happen to be holding any plates when Captain America walks out of the office, carrying his shield.

Because that costume... wow. He winks at you as he passes, and you hope you weren’t gawping too badly. You find yourself staring at his ass as he goes through the door, and thankfully he doesn’t turn back.

The party itself passes like a whirlwind. You take a moment to admire the hall – Ayesha, Marcus and the others had gone all out with fairy lights and garlands of greenery – but only a moment. You’re busy serving food, cleaning up spills, trying to keep on top of the trash without getting in the way. Your elf dress is pretty floury and sugary, but there’s so much going on there’s no one to notice.

Tony Stark is there, in full Iron Man armour, and you’re surprised by how good he is with the kids, showing how his armour works, giving flying demonstrations, having friendly competitions with Sam Wilson who’s in his Falcon gear. Finally Tony dresses up as Santa, still wearing his armour, and gives all the kids the latest StarkEducation tablets from a massive festive sack.

You didn’t know what to expect from Natasha Romanov; you saw her on TV when she leaked all those files, and she didn’t seem like a holiday party person. You don’t notice her until one little boy, overwhelmed with all the excitement, starts crying. She takes hold of his hand and lifts him over the low rope that’s sectioning off the food tables while a game of musical chairs is going on. She raises a brow at you, and you pretend not to see as they sneak one of the cupcakes you’ve just put out.

And Steve... he seems to have endless patience for kids taking photos with him. Every time you see him, he’s surrounded, and you even see him letting kids sit in his shield while he spins it on the ground.

“Captain America decorated your gingerbread man,” you tell a little girl as she takes one from a plate, and you enjoy seeing her eyes widen.

“Captain America?” She says, loud, disbelieving.

“Yep. Captain America. He’s really talented, huh?”

You both look over to where he, Natasha, and a couple of older kids are playing Twister, with Iron Man calling out the colours. But as you watch, he loses his balance and falls.

“He’s not talented at Twister,” she says decidedly, taking a bite.

Finally everyone is gone. The Avengers, including Captain America, say a big goodbye to the children at the front. You don’t watch them leave – you have bags of rubbish to take to the bins, and so much washing up. But you shouldn’t begrudge the hard work, you think. Not when all the children had such a good time.

Dimly you hear the sounds of the kids leaving, and the Christmas music being switched off. Ayesha, Marcus on the others troop back and forth through the kitchen, but you don’t pay them very much attention; they have their jobs, and you have yours. You move on from washing to drying and putting away, trying not to look at the state of your dress – the flour and sugar now look streaky where you’ve dripped water on yourself. You stretch up to put the last pile of plates in the cupboard, and shut the door with a satisfying thunk. But somehow there, right in front of you—

“Steve! What are you doing here? I thought you’d have gone ages ago…” You can’t hide your smile – you didn’t expect to see him again.

“I needed to get my clothes,” he says, indicating his body, clad in street wear again.

“Don’t you have people for that?”

“Well... there was one other thing...” he runs a hand through his hair.

“Oh?”

“You mentioned that you missed your holiday tradition of going to see the Christmas lights in London. So I wondered if you’d like to get some food, and then join me for a New York tradition?”

“I would really like to... But... look at me. I can’t go out anywhere in this, and I didn’t bring a change of clothes. I look a fright.”

“I disagree. But you have a coat? I was actually thinking of a food truck I like. And it’s close to where I’d like to take you...”

“Then yes. Just give me a moment to finish up here...”

You wrap yourself up in your navy coat and multicolour hand-knit scarf, wondering, as you wave goodbye to Ayesha, if you’ll be walking to wherever you’re going. But Steve takes your arm and steers you to where a car is idling at the curb.

“Our ride,” he says, opening the door for you.

“Thanks,” you say, smiling up at him as you get into the car. You try to remember the last time someone did that for you. Of course it’s not necessary, you’re perfectly capable of opening doors yourself, but you appreciate the gesture. It makes you feel cared for.

“So where are we going?” You ask as the car starts moving. Steve sits beside you; he’s already exchanged words with the driver up front.

He tilts his head for a second, thinking. “I’m going to make it a surprise. But I think you’ll like it.”

“Meanie,” you say, pulling a face, but you can’t hold it for long before you both laugh.

You spend the drive to wherever it is you’re going – you pay enough attention to your dark surrounds to know you’re in Manhattan – chatting about Christmas traditions. He tells you how Tony likes to go all out, decorating the whole tower in lights, with Christmas trees all over the place, and you tell him about the walk your parents insisted the family take on Christmas Day before opening any presents.

You can’t see anything special about the street the car pulls over on, but Steve forestalls your questioning with a, “Soon,” as he opens the door for you. You’re not quite sure how he got to it so quickly, but you’re not complaining as he takes your hand, then tucks it into the crook of his arm.

There are lots of people around, all bundled up against the cold, all in a hurry to get somewhere, and while you don’t dawdle your pace is leisurely as you walk down the street together.

“Here we are. Some of the best steak on this island... But don’t tell Tony. He prefers the kind he flies in from Japan. They do have vegetarian options, too,” he adds, with a hint of worry in his voice.

“Steak sounds really good to me,” you say, and your stomach rumbles in assent. “I don’t think a murderous gingerbread man really counts for lunch.”

Steak tastes good, too: a cheesesteak with provolone, grilled onions, and hot sweet peppers. “This is delicious,” you say between mouthfuls, happy to see the smile in his eyes as he eats his. The food fills you and warms you, and you’re surprised by how much better you feel having had a proper meal. Being with Steve distracted you from feeling the tiredness you would expect after working on the party all day, but a proper meal really gives you energy.

“So now will you tell me where we’re going?” You ask, as Steve takes your arm again.

“We’re almost there. Just a block or so away…”

You know New York. Not brilliantly well – this is only your first year here, your first Christmas – but enough to have some idea of where things are. But something about Steve being there lets you turn the part of your brain that worries about such things off. You’re able to just walk with him. Enjoy being with him. Part of you marvels that you’re walking with an actual Avenger, who saved the city, and no-one seems to notice. But he is in civvies. It’s dark and he put on a hat in the car. And even you are beginning to think that seeing the occasional famous person is normal, especially in Manhattan. Perhaps they’re just used to it.

Steve guides you round a corner, and you gasp. In front of you is one of the tallest Christmas trees you’ve ever seen, glowing and sparkling with lights in all colours, topped off with a huge star.

“The Rockefeller Center tree. I don’t know how it compares to Oxford Street, but… coming to see it is my tradition.”

“It’s beautiful. Thank you for bringing me. It compares very well… How long have you been coming here?”

“I first came in about 1935. The ice rink wasn’t here yet. I came alone… I tried to get Bucky to come – he said kids parties weren’t really his thing, that’s why he wasn’t there today – but he thought it was stupid. Until I told him it would be a good place to take a girl. And after that I had to go by myself because he always took someone else. But this Christmas… this Christmas I brought you.” You turn from the tree at the tone of his voice; there’s a smile in it, but also a note of wonder.

“I don’t know if you skate, but if you want a better view, you can get one from the ice…”

“Not very well, but I enjoy it.” You look at the queue for the rink dubiously. “I’d like to, but this has got to be the kind of thing you have to book days in advance…”

“I try not to do this too often, but… I know a guy. Wait here.” Steve winks at you before going to talk to a member of staff. Mere moments later you’re being ushered down the steps to the top of the line, and offered skates.

“Let me guess. The guy is Tony Stark?”

“Yep. Got it in one.”

 You feel a little wobbly on the ice to begin with; it’s been a while since you did this, and you don’t want to embarrass yourself. Bu holding Steve’s hand? As you glide over the ice, lights changing from purple to pink to green, the crowd singing along to New York, New York... you know he’ll catch you if you fall.

The tree looks even more magical up close, casting its light over one end of the rink. And you wonder—

“Steve? Would you mind if we took a selfie? I won’t send it to anyone else, I’m sure you must value your privacy, but I’d just… like a reminder. Of you. Of here.”

“Sure. I trust you. But… can I take one as well? For Bucky? It would be the first time I…”

“I get it. Of course.”

He pulls you in close, and both your smiles are warm as he takes photos with first your phone, then his. You can see his artistic eye coming out again, in how he manages to frame both of you with the tree in the background, coloured lights from the rink hitting you at the side. And being that close… that’s a moment you’ll treasure. All the more for his trust in you.

“I suppose you take a lot of selfies,” you say when he’s done and you’re skating again.

“You have no idea. But I always want to make them look good, you know? It means a lot to people.”

“Yeah, it does.” You skate together in silence for a while, enjoying the feeling of the movement, the chill coming from the ice and Steve’s warmth next to you.

“So what do you think Bucky will say?” You ask, as you take your skates off.

“Why don’t we find out?” Steve is ahead of you with his shoes on already, and he’s tapping on his phone. You hear the tone of a message being sent. “How do you feel about going up to the observation deck while we wait for his reply?”

You thought that after skating he might just offer to take you home. But the exercise has left you feeling energised, and besides… you don’t want this evening to end.

“I would love to.”

“Good, because I got the tickets already.”

You nudge into him as you stand, rolling your eyes a little, but he gives you a little unrepentant shrug, puts an arm around you, and leads you up to the building. You’re too distracted by his presence, that much closer now, to pay too much attention to the what’s inside or what’s going on around you, but you’re directed straight to a lift – elevator, you remind yourself – and a staff member presses the button to call it.

Steve’s phone buzzes before the elevator gets there, and he unlocks it, showing you the message with a grin.

Are you where I think you are?? That’s MY date spot!

Where did you find a girl who’d go with you, anyway?

She’s cute who is she?

“You going to reply?” You look up at him with a grin, but the elevator arrives just then.

“Guess I’m going to make him wait a bit,” Steve sounds pleased as you’re ushered in.

There’s something magical about being so high up on a winter’s night, frost in the air, and the sparkling lights of the city spread out in every direction. You drink it in, aware of Steve’s attention on you.

“You like it?” He asks eventually, as you take in the sight of the Empire State Building, lit up in red, green, and white, and the A of the Avengers tower glowing off to the side.

You lean into him while you find the words. “Yeah, I… Every little light... someone put it there. Someone lit it. They represent the people in the city... and up here we’re above it all, but I feel connected to everything. Does that make sense?” You feel him nod his head. “Thank you for this,” you add softly. He doesn’t say anything, but tightens his arm round you.

As much as you enjoy the feel of being outside enjoying the view, and the immediacy of that as opposed to though glass, it is December. The air is crisp and you can see you breath, and your teeth start chattering a little even with Steve so close.

“You’re cold,” he says, a note of regret in his voice which you feel too. “We should…”

“Yeah. I think they’re going to kick us out in a minute anyway,” you say, watching as a staff member has a quiet word with another couple.

Steve’s hand finds yours in the car on the way back home. You’ve been in constant contact all evening, you realise, and you don’t want it to end. At first, you were star-struck – of course you were – but you feel like you’ve been able to see the real Steve today, this evening… and you really like him. You’re surprised by how much. You don’t like to rush into things; you’ve learned that can lead to pain and hurt. But you think, as you watch dark streets whizzing by, with Steve, you could make an exception.

Your phone buzzes, interrupting your reverie, and you manage to get it out one-handed, keeping that contact with Steve. You see a text from Macy.

Thanks for everything today, heard you did amazing, I’m so so grateful! Ayesha says she saw you leave with Steve Rogers?! Did he take you out somewhere nice? Did you have a good time? Hope so, u deserve it x

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just Macy from work. Ayesha told her about our—our date. She wants to know if I had a good time.”

“Oh? And what will you tell her?”

“The best. I’m telling her I had the best time.” You look at him sidelong. “What did you tell Bucky?”

His voice is soft when he replies. Thoughtful. Almost like he’s talking to himself. “That I didn’t want it to end.”

The car pulls up to the curb then, and you make a decision.

“It doesn’t have to. I know we’ve had a chance to warm up in the car, but I have hot chocolate in my apartment – the good stuff. Would you like to come up for a mug?”

You worry as soon as you’ve said it. Did you overstep? Steve didn’t give the impression of being the type of person who rushes into things either. But he smiles a slow small smile.

“Yeah, I’d like that.” He nods. “I’d like that a lot.”

Your apartment is tiny, but you keep it neat. Tidy. You bought the bare minimum of stuff when you moved in; partly because you weren’t exactly flush, and partly because you like your space to be... spacious, as much as it can be. New York was a new start, and you left your clutter in England. And you’ve come to appreciate coming home to a made bed and everything squared away. And it stands you in good stead now; you know, as you struggle a little with opening the building door with an audience, that there won’t be anything embarrassing on display when you get up there.

You feel tension within you rising as you climb the stairs, and you think you feel it from Steve too. He crowds close to you as you open your door. Your little Christmas tree glows with soft colours in the corner, casting just enough light to see by.

Just enough light, as you take a couple of steps into the room and turn back to Steve, to see that his eyes are hot with desire. And you know yours must be too.

“Is this okay?” He asks, reaching out to you, trailing a finger down your face. Your lips part on a gasp but you manage to nod, and then you’re kissing. His lips are soft and warm, and he pushes you back against the wall as the kiss deepens, his body pressing against you, and his tongue exploring your mouth. You raise a hand to his face, tracing his jawline, feeling that little bit of stubble, then you move your hands over his body, enjoying his muscles before you push at his coat. You part for a moment as he shrugs out of it, but you’re kissing again, hungry, as soon as he’s helped you out of yours.

Perhaps you can have mochas in the morning.

*

“Can I ask you a question?” Steve asks, tone a bit shy, over his scrambled eggs on toast. He’s sitting in your rarely used second dining chair, across your little round table.

When you woke this morning, you had almost thought last night must have been a dream… Except… you were in the arms of an Avenger, and you felt warm, comfortable, and safe. His arms tightened around you as he woke too, and he kissed you and... you didn’t get to breakfast for a while.

“Sure? What is it?” You take a sip of your coffee – you had made mochas using your fancy espresso machine, one of the few real luxuries in your apartment – and it tastes delicious.

“Do you have Christmas plans? Something with your friends?”

“I don’t have that many friends here yet, I guess. But most of them will be out of town for Christmas, and those that aren’t are with family.” You shrug. “I don’t mind. My plans are FaceTime call with my family, then I have a little turkey joint in the freezer. And I might watch Die Hard. Or something from the Netflix Holiday Movie Universe. Depending on my mood. Why?”

“I was— wait. Netflix Holiday Movie Universe?”

“Yes, that is a thing.” You shake your head. “You don’t want to know, honestly.”

He chuckles. “I probably don’t. But I asked about plans because… it may seem a bit soon, but I wondered if you’d like to come to the tower, and spend Christmas with me? It’s an… unconventional… second date, but I really like you. A lot. Last night, this morning… showed that, I guess. And I hate to think of you being alone on the day. I won’t be offended if you say no. And you don’t have to decide now. But… the offer’s there.”

You sip your coffee again, thinking about it. You would be… if not happy, content to spend Christmas alone; you would have preferred to spend it with friends, but you didn’t feel hard done by because they couldn’t host you. And meeting the rest of the Avengers… they must be like Steve’s family, you think. Meeting them could be a lot. But behind the costumes, they’re (mostly) regular people, just like Steve. And it may only have been one night, but he is already… special... to you.

“Thank you. I... I would love to come.” You feel the corners of your lips quirk up. “If you’ll help me decorate some more gingerbread as gifts.”

Steve’s smile lights up his face. “Perhaps we can do a gingerbread Avengers tower?”

You laugh. “Why not?”

[forever-rogue]

IMAGINE Javi saying one of his many fuck mes and you (a shy secretary that tries to stay out of everyone’s way and blushes anytime Javi or Steve talks to you and Javi has thought you cute but usually forgets about you until today) hear him and say gladly under your breath. He overhears and flirts with you the rest of the day till he takes you at work

I got…a little carried away. Oops? Enjoy 😏 (PS -18+ only!)

»»————-　♡　————-««

You sighed lightly as you typed away, the clicking of the aging type writer keys starting to get to you. But it was better than nothing; besides the ticking of the clock, it was the only sound keeping you company. It was a slow day and for once there wasn’t much to occupy your time, so you had resorted to doing the menial paperwork you’d been putting off. You swore it made the time go by slower. Positive it must have been nearing five, or it surely should have been anyway, you allowed yourself to glance up.

A long groan immediately escaped your lips as you saw that it had been only about fifteen minutes since the last time you checked the clock. Impossible, you sighed internally, something must be wrong with it. Checking the fine gold watch on your wrist, you let out an even louder groan when you realized that it displayed the same time as the wall clock. This place had to be cursed or something.

Maybe you could sneak out early today and go for a walk…or something. It was a beautiful, sunny, perfectly warm day, and it felt like a shame to remain indoors doing practically nothing. But you knew that you’d never be allowed to leave early in case an important call came through. As if. The phone hadn’t rang a single time today.

But just before you could turn back to your paperwork, the sound of annoyed voices and quickly shuffling feet met your ears. You perked up at the sound, excited at the possibility of seeing some people today. Yeah, it had been a really boring day, and you hadn’t seen hide nor hair of many people. You stopped typing and trying to discern the voices as they neared.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Murphy,” ah yes, the unmistakable, annoyed tones of one Javier Pena, “she’s out of her damn mind.”

“We have to do this her way for once, Javi,” Steve’s exasperated response made you want to giggle, “we’ve got at least try and stay on her good side.”

“Fuck,” Javier seemed beyond annoyed as they rounded the corner and came into your view. You gave them both a small smile as they turned to walk into their shared office space. They’d been out doing field work for most of the day, and you were glad to have them back. They provided some form of amusement anyway, and listening to them bicker like children was fun at times, especially when they asked to settle things for them and pick a side.

“Hey,” they both turned to give you a wave as you repeated the gesture before dropping your head as a blush crept into your cheeks. There was always something about the way Javier’s dark eyes raked over you that made you feel like a giddy school girl.

Steve struggled with opening the door and Javier was clearly impatient as he watched his partner. He ran a hand over his tired face before letting out loud, “fuck me!”

You were biting on your bottom lip so hard to keep from giggling out loud, sure you would draw blood at any second. Instead you intently stared at the keys, but before you could knew what was happening or you could manage to stop yourself, you whispered, “gladly. Any day.”

Freezing in horror as you realized what you had done, your eyes widened as you glanced up to see if either of them had overheard you. It had meant to be a completely internal monologue with yourself, but somehow…fate, or whatever you wanted to call it, had a different idea. If Steve or Javi had overheard you, they didn’t indicate that anything had happened. Instead, Steve had finally managed to open the door and they went inside. Letting out a sigh of relief, you were sure that you were in the clear. It couldn’t have been more than a mere whisper, probably inaudible to anyone but yourself.

But it wasn’t. Oh no. Javier was astute as ever, and he had impeccable hearing. He heard you loud and clear, a little smirk working its way onto his face at your words. But he played it off, knowing that it hadn’t been intentional. No; you were much too sweet and demure to have ever said something like publicly. But now he knew that you reciprocated his feelings. Who would have thought?

»»————-　♡　————-««

As the dull morning turned into the afternoon, you thought you were going delirious from the monotony. But a figure soon cast a shadow over your work, and you looked up slowly, hoping it wouldn’t be the ambassador or anything. To your surprise and internal delight, it had turned out to be Javier. You gave him a small smile as you leaned back in your chair, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Do you want to go and get a coffee?” he asked as he perched himself on the edge of your desk, waiting you closely. You tried not to let your eyes linger for too long…but it was hard. Especially when he was wearing his tightest jeans and that damned pink button up.

“A coffee?” you repeated as he nodded. You knew what he meant, but decided to play dumb, feeling an odd rush of courage flood through your veins, “I’m perfectly fine to go and walk into the kitchen and get myself some of this gourmet bean water.”

“You know what I mean,” he smirked as he gave your long cold coffee from this morning a dismal once over, “you really gonna finish that?”

“As if,” you joked, pushing it a little further away from you, “what? Is Murphy too busy to be your date?”

“I don’t know,” he asked, taking a look back into his office briefly, “didn’t ask.”

“Oh?”

“That’s because I’m asking you,” he raised an eyebrow at you and you swore you could easily melt in your seat. Why did he have to have this type of effect on you, “don’t really care about him right now. So, what do you say?”

“Right now?”

“Of course,” he laughed, “I don’t get the impression that you’re terribly immersed in your work right now. We can’t get out for a little bit…go for a walk. A shame to waste to a beautiful day inside, no?”

“I-”

“You’re not going to miss anything. I guarantee it.”

“But-”

“It’s just a coffee, hermosa, it’s not a lifetime commitment.”

“Why me?”

“Why not you?” he posed as you let out an exasperated sigh. He wouldn’t let this go, of course he wouldn’t. He gave you such a sweet look, that you just knew he knew that you wouldn’t say no. But…this was Javier. Should you really trust him? You did, fully…but should you?

“Okay,” you agreed, trying to fight off the smile that was threatening to break your face. Javier slid of your desk and beckoned for you to follow, “wait? Right now?”

“No time like the present,” he insisted as you stood up and followed him, shaking your head in amusement. You reached for your purse but he shook his head, “don’t bother.”

“Why? It’s not like this is a date.”

“It can be whatever you want,” always so cryptic with his responses, and aloof. You weren’t sure how to respond, not wanting to make more of this than it was. But then again…what did you want it to be? Before overthinking it, you tucked your purse back inside your drawer and stepped around to follow him, “new dress?”

“I..yeah…how did you…?”

“I like it,” he gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary, and you weren’t sure if you were glad you wore the new dress or loathing yourself. It had been a warm morning, and the office didn’t exactly have the best cooling system, so you had worn it mostly to not become a sweat soaked mess, but this…wasn’t so bad either. You had wondered at first if it was even work appropriate, thinking it might have shown a little too much cleavage. Maybe it was just right after all, “the color suits you.”

“Thanks Javi,” you started to head out, hoping he didn’t see the flush of your cheeks as you bowed your head. He noticed. He most definitely noticed. But what neither of you noticed was Steve from inside the office, still stuck on a call and waving wildly at you guys as you just walked away. Javier hadn’t mentioned a word to him. Oops. Steve closed his eyes and sighed as he sat back down. Typical Javi.

»»————-　♡　————-««

Coffee and a walk with Javier ended up being…pleasant, fun even. He was ever the gentleman, paying for your coffee (and dessert) making you laugh the entire time. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had smiled so much; he couldn’t either. He ended up suggesting a walk in one of his favorite spots in the city, a hidden little gem that you’d never seen before. It was a beautiful escape from the hustle of the city, a lush green little escape.

He ended up doing most of the talking, which you didn’t mind one bit. You could have listened to him for hours with that warm, honeyed voice. It just…hit different. A few times his hand had brushed against yours and while it momentarily crossed your mind that you should take a step to the side to give him space, you didn’t do that. You kind of…liked the feeling of his rough hand against yours. He didn’t mind either; you knew all the brushes couldn’t have been accidental.

By the time you’d gotten back to the office, you were sad to end your little outing. To go back to the monotony of work after such a lovely time was surely a sin. But unfortunately, soon enough, you were back at your desk, eyes feeling like they were glazing over from boredom. When Javi had stepped back into his and Steve’s office, you immediately heard Steve start to give Javi the third degree. You couldn’t hold back the small bits of laughter that bubbled up at the two men. They were worse than children sometimes. Javier caught your eye and made a dramatic face as just shrugged your shoulders.

»»————-　♡　————-««

And so your week carried on, just as dull and dry as Monday had been. Surely it had to be the slowest and most painful week of your entire career in Colombia. It appeared that everyone, even the criminals on your radar had taken a siesta as soon as the first bits of spring weather hit.

The only reprieve from the boredom came in the form of…Javi. Not that Javi hadn’t been friendly with you before - on the contrary. He had always been kind to you, treating with respect and as a friend, not just some secretary. But this week things seemed different, even more friendly than normal. It wasn’t an unwelcome change by any means, but it caught you completely off guard.

You had a fresh cup of coffee, the real stuff not the weak instant stuff from the kitchen, and a pastry waiting for you every morning. No note was attached, but one wasn’t required. You knew it immediately it was from Javi; he always managed to catch your eye and gave you a wink whenever you got in.

It was almost like he made it a point to find a reason to step out of his office whenever he had a chance, always coming by your desk to make some comment to you. You knew he didn’t have to step out to go to the bathroom that often, that he didn’t need anything from the kitchen every hour, but you didn’t question it. It was nice to have someone to shoot the breeze with, instead of falling asleep.

Friday still rolled around slowly, and by the time noon had approached you were allowing yourself to feel slightly excited. Soon enough you’d be able to escape the office and go home and drink that bottle of wine you’d been saving all week. It wasn’t particularly exciting, but it was better than sitting around and being bored to tears.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Javier pulled you out of your little daydream and back in reality as he leaned over your desks, his face mere inches from yours. You tried not to completely lose at his close proximity, but it was hard to stare at his handsome face, or how good he smelled.

“Nothing,” you admitted sheepishly and he raised an eyebrow at you, waiting for you to go on, “just thinking about how excited I am to get out of here and have the weekend off.”

“Oh? Exciting plans?” he asked and you almost burst into laughter.

“If by exciting plans you mean sitting on my couch and watching movies and drinking wine, then yes,” you answered with a shrug as he seemed to relax a little bit, a bit of tension leaving his face, “what about you? Any…exciting rendez-vous?”

“No,” he grimaced a little bit, and you wondered what was going on in his head, “but I was…do you want to go out tonight?”

“What?” your jaw dropped at his words. Surely you had heard him wrong. Surely he meant to ask someone other than you.

“Do you,” he pointed directly at you, “want to go out with me?”

“Ugh,” you started to panic a little bit as you realized what he was asking, “like…”

“A date,” he finished for you, a bit of amusement coloring his features, “I’ll break it down even further, hermosa, I, Javier, am asking you, Y/N, if you would like to go out to dinner tonight, as a date and not just friends.”

You were positive you were blushing like mad as you hid your face behind your hands. You didn’t know what you prompted this, or all the attention he had been showering you with this week, but it had warmed your soul. At first you thought it might be some sort of joke, or something, but you knew Javi would never do that. He was a better man than that. Javi let out a warm laugh at your sudden shyness, reaching for your hands and pulling them away from your face, giving you a curious glance as he anticipated your response. You bit your lip but nodded before quietly voicing your agreement, “yes…that sounds lovely.”

“Great,” he grinned at you, gently drumming his fingers along your desk, “it’s a date then. We can go when we’re off.”

“Aren’t you off later than I am?”

“I’m off whenever I want to be,” he was getting cheeky as he shot you a wink, “so I’ll be off whenever you are.”

“Whatever you say, Agent Peña,” you teased, “I’ll find you when I’m off.”

He opened his mouth to say something else, but he was quickly interrupted by Steve shouting for him…again. It wasn’t lost on him at all how much Javier seemed to frequent your desk lately, making many more stops than possibly necessary. Normally he wouldn’t say anything, but for the first time all week, they actually had something to do.

“I’ll see you soon, hermosa,” it was more of a promise than a statement and he walked back in, already shaking his head at Steve. You let out a small sound of delight, only to yourself, as you turned your attention back to work. How were you possible going to focus on doing anything else when you actually had something to look forward to?

»»————-　♡　————-««

By the time you were finished for the day, you gathered your things and looked for Javi. He was still in his office, on a call, an annoyed expression etched on his features. Steve on his way out, to which Javier only responded with him flipping him the bird. He gave you a wave on the way out and stood in the door way of their office, leaning against the door.

“Javi,” you called his name softly and he looked up at you, giving you a sorry look as he pointed at the phone cradled between his shoulder and ear. You nodded in understanding and strolled over to him, sitting down on the edge of his desk, just as he’d done to you all week. His eyes widened in surprise, but a different kind of look soon worked its way onto his features.

You were wearing a dress again, similar to the one from earlier in the week; this one was purposely chosen, cherry picked to catch his eye. Which it had, causing him to almost break his neck as he did a double take when you arrived in the morning.

Swinging your legs back and forth, you waited for him to finish, unsure of how much longer he would take. But Javi had other plans, naturally. He put a hand your calf, causing you to falter your motions in surprise for a moment, before slowly bringing his hand up to your thigh, just under the soft fabric of your dress. At first his brashness surprised you, but then, what surprised you even more, was the fact that you didn’t want him to stop. Instead you placed your hand on top of his and slowly slid it further up your leg, bringing it closer and closer to your heat.

He swallowed the lump in his throat as he watched, trying to make sure you knew what you were starting. You eyes never left his as you settled his hand at the apex of your thighs. You had no clue what suddenly possessed to be so bold. Here you were, in the open were anyone could walk in, shamelessly wanting Javi to touch you.

Javi slowly slipped your panties to the side, dragging a long finger through your folders, a wicked look crossing his features when he realized how wet you were already. For him. You rocked your hips slightly against his fingers, silently encouraging him to do more, to touch you as much as he wanted.

“I’ve ugh…I’ve got to go…something just came up,” he said suddenly as he practically slammed the phone back down on the receiver. You let out a soft sound as he added another finger and started touching your sensitive bundle of nerves, “you’re going to be the death of me, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you joked as you gave him your best, innocent doe eyes. He made a small sound, akin to a growl as he pulled removed his fingers from you. You huffed lightly at the loss, a small sound escaping your lips. Quickly he placed his large hands on your hips, wasting no time in pulling you into his lap. You grinned up at him with a quickly little smile, “hello there.”

“You’re a little minx, aren’t you?” he asked as you put your hands on the sides of his face, tracing gently over his features, just like all the times you had imagined doing so in your wildest dreams. He watched you with curiosity, amazed by the combination of both your boldness and gentleness. He grabbed one of your hands and brought it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, “but also a gentle thing. What a combination.”

“Just like you,” you responded, leaning forward and resting your forehead against his, closing your eyes to savor the moment. He rested a hand on your back, tracing aimless shapes and patterns onto your skin. You grinned slightly, “Javi.”

“I really want to go to dinner,” he said quietly, his lips brushing against yours, the tickle of his mustache making you grin, “but ugh…”

You shifted slightly in his lap, and knew exactly what he was referring as his hardness became evident. Unable to control yourself at all, you pressed a surprisingly gentle kiss to his lips, “dinner can wait. How about dessert first?”

“Right here?” he almost choked on the words as you nodded. It was bold, even for him. But somehow the thrill of it all, the idea of being caught was enough to drive him wild. Slowly standing up, earning a low groan from him, you walked over to the door and closed it, locking it before closing the blinds.

“Don’t you want some dessert, Javi?”

[beanieman]

The Four Times Alice Knew He Cared About Shin And The One Time He Knew He Loved Him

(You don’t need to read it to understand the plot to this story. But this is Alice and Shin’s POV during the “The Four Times Reko Almost Punched Shin And The Time She Did story.) 

"Without a doubt, someone will die."

The death of one of their allies should be the room's biggest concern. But everyone has all eyes on Sou. His shrill laugh is a cold and empty sound. Alice should fear the man who's given them all a reason to doubt one another. But he does not. Is it odd to think his act is dishonest? A feeling deep within his gut tells him the man before him is reaching for a hand that will bring his salvation.

It only takes one glance to see that hand won't come from the others. They look on with fear. But Alice pays them no mind. Whoever this man is, he can't be more dangerous than the people holding them captive. Kai is still, without a doubt, the most dubious one in the room. He wants to speak out and come to Shin's aid. But it's time to vote. All he can do is cast a vote for Kai and hope it will be enough.

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

For better or worse, it was enough. But it seems one of them has taken retribution into their own hands. Chunks of woods lay in Shin's hair. It would be a pitiful sight if not for Sou's words dripping with venom Sara's way. He asks about the main game with cruel bluntness.

"Was it Miss Nao? Kai? Joe?! Don't tell me-"

His words cast doubt on his earlier feelings. Was this Sou all along? That kind person he first met in the bar...did he ever exist? No, his perfection wouldn't be mistaken. That person seemed much more real than this one.

He's made up his mind.

He's going to get to the bottom of this.  Despite everything, he cares about the group, which includes Sou. They are both loners in need of an ally. Alice hopes Sou will see that as he reaches out. Maybe he'll try to trade a few tokens with him? At the very least, they can talk. And from there, he'll cast his verdict.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------- His verdict was an easy one to reach when Shin helped them escape. Because of his hacking skills, the group gets to see the view outside once more. Shin saved him. He saved Reko. That makes him okay in his book.

As soon as they make it outside, they split into small groups. They all talk about what they want to do now that they are free. Shin stands alone, but not for long. Alice finds himself approaching him. He can see the look of disbelief on his face. Like it's so hard for him to acknowledge that he's safe.

"Shin Tsukimi! What do you plan to do with your life now that we're out of there?"

"I haven't thought about it. I didn't want to get my hopes too high...Get some soup?"

Shin shrugs in such a nonchalant way an outsider could mistake this as a regular chat. His body seems to be moving on autopilot as the fact his life is still in his hand's registers.

Alice knows this has been just as rough on him as the others. Even if he made much of the trouble, he's still just a human put into a terrible situation. And he needs support, just like he does.

"Let's go together one day Shin Tsukimi! I have some excellent restaurant recommendations!"

"I didn't take you as the type to eat out often...but sure. I'll give you my number."

Shin writes his number down on a scrap piece of paper and slips it into Alice's hand.

"...Well, better get going. I'm sure I'll have work Monday."

"Your nine to five seems only slightly less ruthless than the games."

His joke gets a small chuckle out of the beanie man. Oddly, he's eager for their next meeting. It feels like it can't come soon enough.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------- The day came sooner than he could have thought. Neither of them was home for a full day before they sent texts each other's way. They talked for a few months before seeing each other again. But that wasn't the end. They've met up repeatedly since then. And in this time, Alice's heart has started to beat for him in a strange new way.

He had to confront Shin about it, and as it turns out, Shin had the same feelings, which leads to today. They agreed to a breakfast date. It's just a casual thing, for now anyway. He hasn't even told Reko yet.

In hindsight, maybe he should have. Because when someone knocks on the door, Reko gets to the door faster than he does.

Shin's shaking in his boots by the time he makes it outside. He ushers him away from the exasperated Reko without giving him a chance even to ask what happened.

"Alice!! R-ready to go?! We should hurry before everyone takes the good tables.-"

"If luck will have it, they'll have a table by the windows open! But were you and Reko fighting?"

"It's not that. Do you ever get the feeling Reko wants to punch me?"

"Yes."

"Oh, fantastic."

Alice throws his arm over Shin's shoulder, giving him a distraction from their conversation. Giving him such casual affection is still something to get accustomed to, but he has a feeling it will be an easy transition. Will the touch be more effortless when they get more serious?

He's thinking too far ahead. For now, he'll enjoy the moment and the care he feels. Who knows what the future will bring?

---------------------------------------------------------------------------- The future has come and brought with it a movie night. They snuggle in Shin's apartment as his tv plays a comedy. They were going to go to the theater, but Shin's black eye stopped them.

"So you walked into the doorframe?"

"Ahaha, yeah."

Shin snuggles closer into Alice's side on the couch as they refocus on the movie in front of them. The darkness of the room cloaks his features, but he can hear Shin's chuckles at the screen.

He loves when they are alone. In that death game, he never got to see a softer side of Shin. But it's clear here. He entangles his hand with his own. Shin's head lolls on his shoulder, and it's such a peaceful feeling. Unlike that horror movie they watched once that made him throw his popcorn everywhere.

But that was still a fun moment. Shin was more startled by the popcorn assault than the movie on the screen. He was picking the popcorn out of his hair for the rest of the night. Alice will never live that down. That really was a good memory. But all moments with Shin are good. Even now, while Shin struggles to stay awake, it's good.

But of course, being around Shin is wonderful.

Because he's in love with him.

The thought sends a jolt of surprise through Alice's mind. Love huh? The care has been there all along, but the feeling of love is new. But he can't deny it. Even now, as Shin drools on his shoulder in a dead sleep, he's content to be with him. That beanie rascal has all his heartstrings and knows just how to tug them.

"I love you, Shin."

Shin doesn't stir in his sleep. But that's okay. Alice couldn't be happier as he closes his eyes and leans his chin on Shin's head. He can feel himself start to drift to sleep, and he can only think of one thing.

How lucky he is to be in love with Shin Tsukimi.

[emsylcatac]

A little push

Summary:

Alya asks Chat Noir to record a video of himself encouraging Marinette to confess...to Adrien.

Of course his mouth speaks on its own. Of course he says yes.

Of course his Lady is most likely sure to kill him.

...And of course Marinette feels like she's the one who's about to die.

Read it on AO3

Happy (very late) birthday to @janaikam ♥

I hope you’ll like this post-reveal pre-relationship fic!

A big thank you to Bren, Lisa & Alizeh for beta-reading this you’re all amazing!

* * * * *

“Pound it!”

Adrien looked into Marinette’s eyes as he said it and she did the same, giving him that soft smile of hers that never failed to make him feel better. They lingered a few seconds with their fists touching, searching each other’s eyes knowingly.

Even though it had been months since they’d discovered each other’s identities, they couldn’t help but share a special glance that said, ‘I know who you are now’.

They disconnected their fists and turned towards the victim of the day—a woman in her thirties—who was slowly gathering her bearings. Marinette walked towards her and helped her stand up, offering words of reassurance.

Adrien watched her fondly before joining her and giving the woman a pep talk himself, until she left, thanking them once again.

“Well, Kitty, we did good today, eh?” Marinette said, nudging him with her elbow.

Adrien laughed. “Of course we did, we’re unstoppable! But I think you should go, you’re about to detransform soon,” he winked.

“Olala, I should hurry! Wouldn’t want you to find out my oh-so secret identity super top secret!”

They both giggled, Adrien shaking his head. “I’ll see you in class on Monday,” she whispered, and dropped a kiss on his cheek before flying away.

He touched his cheek and stared at her retreating form. He was about to let yet one of his all too recurrent lovesick sigh when a voice called out to him.

“Pssst, Chat Noir!”

He turned his head, only to be met by Alya’s grinning face and waving hand. He beamed at her, noting that he still had enough time left if she wanted a small interview.

“Well well well, if that isn’t our ever-so always intrepid Ladyblogger!”

Alya took that as a sign that she could come and talk to him, laughing all the way.

“Please, call me Miss Ladyblogger, The Most Intrepid And Greatest Reporter Of All Time, and not to brag, also personal favourite citizen of our local heroes themselves, between you and me.”

“Oh, my bad,” Adrien chuckled. “What do you need of me? An interview? A selfie featuring my best winning smile? Or,” he dropped his voice conspiratorially, a hand around his mouth, “pictures of Ladybug falling in the fountain because she was scared of…a ladybug?”

Alya laughed. “Actually, I had a favour to ask from you, but if these pictures are still on the table… how much would you want for them?”

Adrien winked. “Give me a croissant and I’m your cat, if you don’t tell Ladybug about your sources, of course.”

She smirked. “Of course. It’s a deal. I’ll have your croissant same time, same place tomorrow.”

“Lovely. Now what was it you needed of me, before my time is up?”

“Oh. So this is gonna sound really weird but...Okay. So my best friend is a fan of yours; her name’s Marinette, I don’t know if you’ve heard of her?”

Adrien bit back a laugh and tapped his bell. “Rings a bell, must have met her once or twice. Admirable citizen, just like you!”

“Why, thank you,” she said, falsely flattered. “Well. So Marinette is trying to hype herself up to confess to the boy she loves—”

Oh.

“—but she’s always had troubles, you know? Except now she told me that she really wanted to do it, and I’m so proud of her! She has been in love with our friend Adrien for so long now—”

OH.

Adrien’s brain short-circuited after that, and Alya was talking, and probably saying very interesting things, but what was it about Marinette loving him?!

“—So, could you do that? It would really mean a lot to her! ...Chat Noir?”

He startled, trying to reconnect with reality, and was met with Alya’s confused frown.

“Sorry,” he said—because yes he could still speak, which was great, wasn’t it?—“I didn’t quite catch that last part. Could you repeat, please?”

“Oh! Yes, so I was wondering—since I’ve heard from akuma victims and Ladybug herself that you give the best pep talks and since Marinette holds you high in her esteem— if you would agree to give her a few encouraging words while I record you? I want it to be a little surprise for her.”

Oh. Now that was a funny situation.

...A very, very embarrassing situation he had no idea how to get out from.

Was it true? Was Marinette really in love with him? It made sense, in a way, he reasoned.

It would explain a lot of things.

But what would Marinette think if she saw him, Chat Noir him, making a video for her to confess to him, Adrien him?!

...She would probably hate him forever.

“...Chat Noir?” Alya’s voice brought him back on Earth once again. She was looking at him with what he assumed were the best pleading puppy eyes she could muster, and he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t working. Now he knew why Marinette couldn’t say ‘no’ to Alya and vice-versa.  “Could you do it? Please please please please pleeeaaaase? I’ll bring you another croissant! And Marinette really deserves it, you can’t deny her that—”

“Sure.” He heard his voice speak. Oh no. “I would love to!” Sometimes he wished he hadn’t been gifted with the ability to talk.

Alya let out a happy squeal, pulling out her camera. It almost convinced him that he had made the right decision in agreeing. Almost. “Thank you, Chat Noir, you’re the best! Marinette is going to be so happy after seeing it, no way she won’t nail her confession!”

“Hahaha…yeah...no way…”

Marinette was going to be mad at him. He didn’t know whether he should warn her or not; call her or not.

But one thing he was sure of, he was not at all ready to face her after that.

“So when you’re ready,” he gave an awkward thumbs up, “on the count of three… One...two...three...aaaand action!”

Adrien stared at the red indicator light on Alya’s camera, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. It was a terrible feeling. If a deer miraculous existed, he was sure very glad that he wasn’t its owner.

Alya nodded at him, reminding him that he had to speak.

“So,” he brought a hand to his neck, rubbing it awkwardly, “um, hello, M-Marinette, as you can probably see, this is Chat Noir! I’m here to tell you that...to tell you that...that…” He took a deep breath, trying to summon confidence he wasn’t sure he possessed at the time, and looked straight into the camera. “I’m here to tell you that I believe in you. I know you’re an amazing person and—”

* * * * *

“—you’ve been proving that you were very brave the few times that I met you. What I mean is...trust in yourself, and I’m sure your confession to...to that boy…”

“—Adrien,” Alya’s voice added in a harsh whisper.

“...Right. That boy A-Adrien will be very...very happy to hear it. I mean, you saying it, yeah he’ll be, um. Overjoyed. I think. Probably. So good luck and, uh...be happy.”

Marinette stared at her phone screen as the video ended, stopping on Chat Noir’s awkward finger guns with a face that clearly screamed like he just wanted to drown himself into the Seine, a sentiment she was currently sharing with him.

She couldn’t move for the next few minutes, replaying his words in her head. She didn’t dare to press “play” again and feel the embarrassment she was already feeling more and more a second time.

It was sweet of Alya, really. And well thought out. And Marinette probably would have loved the attention if the person she was planning on confessing to wasn’t the one encouraging her in this stupid video.

“Marinette?” she faintly heard Tikki’s voice calling out to her.

“I’m gonna die. No, wait… I’m already dead.” And with that, she dropped her phone on the floor and threw herself unceremoniously onto her bed, an arm covering her face.

“Marinette, this is great!” Tikki squealed. Marinette violently pulled her arm away to look at her. “Chat Noir said Adrien would be overjoyed to hear your confession!”

“Tikki. He said that ‘Adrien’,” she quoted the name with her fingers, “will probably be overjoyed. Keyword: probably. Keyface: the desperate one he was throwing at the camera screaming ‘please let me die’. How is any of this great, uh?”

Tikki didn’t answer right away. “Well,” she spoke in a timid voice, “if you’re both gonna die, then at least you’ll be together?”

Marinette knew Tikki was always trying to be optimistic, but this was a little much.

Tikki sighed. “Listen, I know it looks embarrassing—”

“—understatement of the century—”

“—but now you have the hardest part of your confession already done! All you have to do is call him or wait for him to call and—”

Marinette gasped and straightened up suddenly. “HIM TO CALL!” she screamed, and grabbed her phone.

When it was clear that no new notifications had appeared, she released a loud sigh to alleviate the pressure and fell back on her bed dramatically.

“Tikki. He hasn’t called. Or left any messages.”

“Maybe he’s waiting for you to do it?”

“Maybe.” Maybe not.

Marinette continued to stare at the ceiling, a thousand thoughts running through her head, all catastrophic.

“Tikki,” she called again. “He’s never gonna love me, isn’t he?”

“You know that’s not true.”

Marinette ignored her kwami. She grabbed her Chat Noir plushie that was snuggled up against her cat pillow, held it in front of her, and caressed the side of its ear and hair with one hand.

“All I want is to get lost in his emerald green eyes,” she almost sniffed, “pet his cute little kitty ears,” she rubbed the doll’s cat ear between her fingers, “and...and kiss his adorable kitty nose,” she bopped its nose, “and hold him close to me,” and she hugged the doll close to her chest.

“Marinette, don’t you think that you’re being a little dramatic here?” Tikki’s voice pulled her out of her reverie.

She glared at her, straightened up and shoved the doll into the kwami’s face.

“Tikki. There is nothing dramatic when it comes to this boy and my feelings for him.” She brought back the plushie close to her and lowered her voice. “I love you Adrien,” she murmured, before dropping a kiss on its forehead with a loud mwah.

Tikki sighed. “Well, now that you just practiced your confession and are ready for next time you see him, off to bed!”

Marinette pouted and gave her a distraught look.

Tikki’s expression turned kinder and more tender. “I’m sure everything is going to be perfect, Marinette. You don’t have to worry.”

“I hope you’re right, Tikki,” she answered while the kwami nuzzled her cheek. “I hope you’re right.”

* * * * *

“Are you finally going to tell me where we’re going?” Marinette asked again.

“Nope,” Alya grinned. “This is going to be fun, I promise.”

Marinette groaned playfully, the bag of croissants her best friend had asked her to bring swinging at the rhythm of her pace. It was a nice morning, and it was sunny for once in Paris. Marinette might not have slept a lot that night, but Alya’s overjoyed mood was lifting up her spirit.

...Until a realisation hit her and she suddenly stopped walking. “You’re not going to bring me to see Adrien, are you? Because you, dragging me on a Sunday morning, with croissants...”

Alya just laughed. “Of course not, silly. That’s you and only you who will have to decide when you meet up with him. I think I’ve done my part already,” she winked.

“Your par—oh. The video.”

“Yes, the video, the last little push you needed to have the most perfect and grand love confession that love history itself has never heard!” Alya dramatically said while making wide gestures with her arms, which would have amused Marinette greatly were it not for the tight knot she could still feel in her stomach from the previous day.

She forced a laugh. “Hahahahahaaa, yes it was very nice of…of Chat Noir to accept and…”

“Oh my god, Marinette,” Alya interrupted her. “Chat Noir was such a sweetheart. I wasn’t expecting him to accept but it was really nice of him.”

“Ooooh, yes yes, veeeery very nice of him, he really shouldn’t have,” Marinette nervously nodded.

“Right?! He probably had tons of other things to do but he still chose to take the time for us,” she kept on gushing.

Marinette thought she must have nodded dumbly after that. Talking about Chat Noir and the video just reminded her that he knew now and that she had no idea about what he thought of it.

That she had yet to officially confess—that she had yet to face him.

And somehow, the fact that he knew that she was in love with him when she hadn’t even told him herself, well… It felt more stressful than any surprise confession she could have planned.

“...and he even said that you were an admirable citizen, by the way,” she heard Alya’s voice talking to her again.

“Who? Me?”

“Yes, you! And me too, but that goes without saying,” she fake-bragged. “But come on, we’re almost there.” She grabbed her hand and pulled her in a small run, eyes glinting, and Marinette had no other choice but laugh at her best friend’s antics.

They passed by a small shop Marinette recognised as one that was destroyed the previous day during the akuma attack. They turned around a corner she knew would leave them were they defeated that akuma and—

“He’s already here!” Alya gasped.

—Chat Noir was casually leaning back against a wall, seemingly lost in thoughts and inspecting his claws.

...And all of Marinette’s panic came back full force in the span of a second. She was not ready. She was so, so not ready to meet him just yet.

She unknowingly gripped the bag of croissants and Alya’s hand tighter, using the latter as an anchor.

“Hoy, Chat Noir!” Alya waved at him.

Adrien turned his head.

Smiled and waved back.

Looked at her.

Dropped his hand and smile, eyes widening in horror.

Clearly, he too hadn’t expected her. She was probably looking at him with the same horrified look on her face and cursed her inability to pretend that everything was perfectly fine on command.

Luckily, Alya didn’t seem to notice the tension between them.

“I’m glad to see you remember our little deal,” she joked.

Adrien, bless him, quickly schooled his expression into a more neutral one and turned to Alya.

“Of course. A promise is a promise.”

“I’ve got your croissants,” she went on. “All warm of today from the one and only Dupain-Cheng bakery!”

“Wooohhh,” Marinette could hear the forced enthusiasm in his voice, “that sounds de-li-cious!”

He quickly glanced at her, and she averted her eyes immediately.

A nudge from Alya reminded her that she was the one with the bag of croissants and that she was supposed to hand it to him.

She all but shoved it into his face.

Great.

“Oops, err, sorry, here,” she apologised, dropping the bag in his hands instead.

“It’s fine, thanks,” he answered quietly.

She didn’t dare to look at him. Maybe he was looking at her, or maybe he was avoiding her, too. It felt awkward.

It felt so wrong.

Wouldn’t he look overjoyed if he was in love with her and just learned she loved him back? Wouldn’t he?

Alya’s voice pulled her out of her spiralling thoughts. “So, do you have my merchandise, hm?”

Marinette looked up to Adrien who seemed to be startled from his own thoughts, too. “Of course,” he zipped down his pocket, “here. It’s all on this USB key.”

He gave Alya a wink for good measure.

“Thank you, you’re the best!”

“What’s on it?” Marinette asked, more to pretend that she was invested in whatever was happening than out of real curiosity.

“Ah-a! That’s for me to know and you to never found out,” Alya wiggled her eyebrows. “Oh by the way,” she gave a small movement of the head in Adrien’s direction, “what did you think of the video?”

Marinette’s eyes widened in horror and she looked into Adrien’s eyes to see him looking back at her absolutely...terrified. She couldn’t find a better word to describe it.

He looked….he looked terrified.

...He really had moved on, hadn’t he? She was too late, and the idea that he would have to reject her terrified him, wasn’t it?

Marinette tried to control her emotion and keep the tears she could already feel prickling her eyes from escaping.

“The...the video?” she said timidly. “The one you sent me yesterday with Chat Noir?”

Alya nodded enthusiastically. Adrien was offering a tentative smile but she could see how much it was costing him to do it.

“Oh yes I hope… I hope it’s gonna help you,” he murmured in a trembling voice.

...She couldn’t do it right now. Internally cursing herself for being a stupid coward or some other name she didn’t even had in mind, she took a deep breath and summoned the cheeriest voice she could muster.

“Ooooh hahahaha, yes it was very nice of you and um, and a good surprise! But pfffeeew, it wasn’t necessary at all, I mean! I loved that you took your time for me but… I’m totally over Adrien, hehe. It wasn’t even a big big crush I had you know, just a tiny tiny little feeling, but now it’s all gone into the wind, wooooshh!”

She could feel Alya’s incredulous eyes on her, and saw the small smile Adrien had been trying to maintain completely disappear.

“But… Marinette, what are you saying? Just yesterday you were telling me on the phone that you were head over heels for Adrie—”

“Exactly,” Marinette cut, nodding, “yesterday is suuuuuch a long time ago, things have totally changed now!”

Her statement was met with silence, so she looked awkwardly from Adrien to Alya, and to Adrien again.

Adrien, who looked like a part of his world had just crumbled in front of his very eyes.

“Well,” he said, voice quivering, and she suddenly felt like she was falling from very, very high, “it’s okay.”

It was not.

“I’m glad to know that you’ve made peace with your feelings,”

Oh god no, please no.

“and that you don’t really need my help to...to confess.”

No, no, no...Everything, but not this.

“Chat Noir…” Alya tried to speak, sounding apologetic.

Adrien gave her a wobbly smile.

“Don’t worry, I’m always happy to help, even if things don’t always work out as we hope they would. And it was fun to spend a little time with you two.”

Marinette wanted to speak, but no words would come. She was sure her tears were visible and she tried to convey what she wanted to say with her eyes instead except...she didn’t even know what exactly she wanted to tell him.

Probably it was why she couldn’t form a sound.

Adrien’s eyes met hers for a split second, and he turned around, his back to them.

“Well, if you’ll excuse-me, I have somewhere else to be. I hope you two have a nice day.”

“Chat Noir, wait—”

But he extended his baton and soon disappeared behind a building.

“Wait…” Marinette whispered again, staring at the spot where he had just vanished.

“...Marinette?” Alya tentatively called out to her.

She turned to her best friend and let her tears free to roll on her cheeks.

“Alya... Why do I keep messing up? Why do I keep messing everything up?”

“Oh, girl… It’s okay.”

Alya pulled her in a hug and Marinette let herself cry.

“No, no it’s not. It’s… It’s not. Why did I say all of this? None of it is even true,” she sobbed.

Alya rubbed circles on her back and let her talk her heart out, listening patiently as always.

“You panicked at the idea of admitting again to someone that you loved Adrien?” she finally asked.

It wasn’t exactly that, but Marinette couldn’t really say why, so she just nodded into her neck.

Alya sighed. “I’m sorry, I probably shouldn’t have asked Chat Noir for this video. I thought it would be a good idea, but…”

Marinette shook her head frantically. “It was a great idea Alya, it’s not your fault.” And she meant it: she would have loved the video had Ladybug and Chat Noir not been her and Adrien. “It’s just me, I don’t know why I’m like this. And now, I hurt Chat Noir,” she whispered.

“Forget about Chat Noir right now,” Alya said. “It’s you who’s hurting. I’m sure he’ll understand, he said he had been happy to help anyway. And if you want, we can make a little video to tell him it was a joke,” she teased.

Marinette managed a giggle through her tears, and broke off the hug. Alya kept her hands on her shoulders.

“But seriously. Are you sure it’s only the Adrien thing that is making you cry? I feel like you’ve been more stressed than usual lately.”

She shrugged; she didn’t even know the answer to that.

“You know what?” Alya said, tone a little less consoling and a little cheerier. “I declare today as a girls day, and a make-Marinette-feel-better-day. So we’re going to have a nice lunch in a nice little restaurant, and then we’ll go to the cinema, how does that sound?”

Marinette finished to wipe her tears. “That sounds great Alya, thank you so much. I couldn’t have asked for a better best friend, you know... You’re always there for me.”

Alya laughed and gave her a side-hug, dropping a kiss on her cheek. “Oh you could. You could have been me and have you as a best friend.”

That made her laugh. She still had to talk to Adrien, but for now she was glad to forget a little about him.

* * * * *

It had taken quite some time for Marinette and Adrien to get used to each other’s identities. They had been fumbling with their words a lot, overthinking each of their moves. It was a sort of out-of-body experience to merge two persons you viewed as two different entities into only one, and it had taken some time to really click in their mind and adjust their newfound dynamic.

So yes, it hadn’t been short, but they had gotten there—they had found a common, safe compromise.

But now, as Marinette anxiously watched Adrien’s back as he was packing his bag before leaving for lunch, it felt as if all this progress had been destroyed and they were not even back to square one, but to square minus ten.

She purposefully took more time than necessary to clean her table, nodding to Alya to let her know to go ahead and that she would join them at the cafeteria in a few.

And soon it was only the both of them left in the classroom.

Starting a conversation with Adrien had finally felt natural, like starting one with Chat Noir before they knew each other’s identities, yet it had never felt harder than now.

Thankfully, he was the one who took the plunge.

“Marinette? Can I… Can I ask about what happened this weekend?”

His tone wasn’t unkind, far from it, but it was also firm.

“This...this weekend?” she stuttered, cursing herself for pretending she didn’t know what he was referring to.

His expression crumpled a little and he sighed. “You know what I’m talking about. Listen, I’m gonna be honest with you—”

The knot she had in her stomach tightened and she could feel her heart beat faster—the kind of beat that wasn’t due to a sudden surge of love, but the one that was fearful of what the turn of events might be.

“—but sometimes, you confuse me. I mean, it got better now that we know, but there are times I don’t know what you think and…” he sighed again, and ruffled his hair.

Marinette kept staring at him; he was right.

“And this weekend, I finally thought I had figured it out, but then you…”

“I’m sorry,” she murmured.

Adrien shook his head, looking like he was the one feeling sorry. He took a step towards her, and brought a hand to her face, gently putting some strands of hair behind her ear. “It feels like you don’t trust me with your feelings, my Lady,” he almost breathed. “I’ve always told you how I felt, or if something was bothering me...even if I’ve been more than clumsy about it at times.”

Marinette said nothing.

“I’m just asking you for the same honesty.”

He dropped his hand from her face but kept maintaining her gaze. His look was intense, expectant, but oh so disheartened.

“I’m sorry,” she finally mumbled again, because words still wouldn’t work.

His expression turned to a resigned one, and her heart broke a little.

“You know that you’re my best friend and that I’ll never think badly of you no matter what?” he said, before turning around.

“Adrien...wait—”

His phone rang.

“It’s the Gorilla. He’s waiting for me. I’ll see you after lunch,” and with that, he exited the classroom, leaving Marinette even more frustrated with herself than she had been before.

* * * * *

It’s precisely because something is important that it’s important to say, no matter what.

She had lost count of how many times she had repeated this in her head ever since Chat Noir had told it to her. She had often been close, so close to follow it and say what was on her heart.

So close... But she had never achieved it.

Marinette took a deep breath. Exhale.

Adrien was in the locker room, alone. All the other students had gone back home now, but a fencing lesson after class had held him up.

She had waited the entire lesson—she knew he would come by the locker room at the end to take some school books.

“Adrien?” she called timidly.

He stopped what he was doing, a hand on the locker door. He didn’t turn around.

How many times had she imagined confessing to him?

How many times had she planned her confession to him?

How many times had it all failed…?

Confessions don’t plan themselves, she figured. They just happen when they happen.

“I know you’re probably still frustrated with me, but...there are things I want to tell you.”

Hello Marinette; as you can probably see, this is Chat Noir.

“First of all...I’m sorry. For yesterday; for being confusing to you. For being a coward,” she whispered the last word.

I’m here to tell you that I believe in you.

“The truth is… I’ve always been afraid to open my heart, and especially to you.”

She couldn’t read his expression, but he hadn’t moved, his back still to her.

She took a step forward.

“Which is stupid, of course, because you’re my partner and there’s probably no one I trust more than you.”

You’re an amazing person—

Another step.

“But I think that’s because you’re so important to me that I’m scared to be honest with you. Because once I tell you…”

—and you’ve been proving that you were very brave.

“Once I tell you, you’ll know everything about me. And that’s terrifying.”

Trust in yourself.

“You told me once that it was because something was important to say that it was important to say it. No Matter what. Well. I have something important to tell you.”

She took another step, so she was standing right behind him now.

I’ll be happy to hear it.

“I love you, Adrien,” she whispered, and hugged him from behind.

You, saying it. I’ll be overjoyed.

“I love you,” she repeated louder into his back.

Good luck and…

She untangled herself from him. “I love you,” she said firmly, confident, one last time.

...Be happy.

Adrien turned around.

And he had the brightest smile she’s ever seen on his face, tears glistening at the corner of his eyes. Just like that, hers that she hadn’t noticed forming ran on her cheek and she let out a choked giggle. She threw herself at him, her arms around his neck.

He caught her easily and hugged her back just as tightly.

“Thank you for being honest with me,” he whispered into her hair. “I love you too. So, so much.”

She hugged him tighter, and put her hand in his hair, massaging it.

They stayed like that a few minutes, gently swaying.

Then, Marinette loosened her grip on him to look into his eyes. She slid her hand from his shoulder to his arm to his hand to link her fingers through it, but kept her other one in his hair.

She could almost feel him shivering.

They nodded at each other, knowing what they wanted.

And then their lips met. Softly, lingering but not pushing.

Marinette was aware of everything that was him, that felt him: his hair, that she was still caressing with her hand. His arm around her, with his hand slowly running up and down her back.

His other hand, still tangled with hers, slightly pressing more and more as the kiss went on. It sent waves of shivers throughout her body.

And his lips and breath on hers.

They broke the kiss, giddy smiles on their faces. Marinette grabbed his face then and kissed his nose.

Adrien laughed. “What was that about?”

“I wanted to kiss your kitty nose.”

He snorted. She giggled, and climbed on her tiptoes once more to kiss his laugh.

Once. Twice.

Three times.

He kissed her back each time.

“I’m sorry about this video. It must have put you in a tight spot,” she said after the third kiss.

Adrien whined. “I am the one who’s sorry. I had no idea what to do and I thought you were going to kill me.”

“I thought I was going to kill myself when I saw it,” Marinette exclaimed. “And then Tikki said that at least we’d be happy and dead together!”

Adrien burst out laughing. “I’d rather be happy and alive with you for now, if that’s okay.”

Marinette nodded frantically. “Oh yes me too. It was a good video though. It did help me in the end.”

“Yeah?” he asked, sounding hopeful.

“Yeah. And from now… I’ll make sure that you know what I feel about you.”

He gave her one of his soft smiles, one of her favourite smiles of his. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

And she sealed it with another kiss.

.

.

.

_____________

Bonus scene:

Adrien watched Marinette out of the corner of his eyes. She was calm, sipping her tea.

But something was wrong. He could feel it.

Maybe it was in the way she was so casually drinking, almost ignoring him. Maybe it was because she still hadn't reacted to the pictures of her, Ladybug her, falling head first in the fountain that Alya had released the previous day—with the bright grand title "Ladybug vs ladybug? It's more likely than you think."

Maybe it was a little bit of both.

Marinette brought her tea one last time to her lips, and put the cup on the desk.

"You feeling good Chaton, uh?" she asked in a calm voice. Calm, but with a tone that either meant "all is good" or "all is wrong".

It was terrifying. He gulped.

"Yes?"

She nodded. "Good."

His right leg was rapidly bouncing up and down in anticipation. Marinette grabbed her phone and tapped a few things on it, before putting it back on the table.

His phone rang.

She was looking at her nails, casually rubbing them with her thumb. Adrien raised a brow and looked at his own phone.

One new message. From Marinette.

A link. And a caption that just said: '😘'

He clicked on it. A tab to the Ladyblog opened.

He felt a wave of dread slowly washing over him as the page loaded.

And suddenly, in bright, grand title was written:

"Five Times Chat Noir Was Scared By A Passing-By Cat, And The One Time He Fell Into The Seine."

[ericmun]

2021.11.01 Shinhwa’s Eric Instagram Update:

1st Post:

The weather is terrible, but fighting this week too! 💥 #Bibimguksu

2nd Post:

Do I gain weight if I finish a bowl of bibimguksu and inhale a double cheeseburger? #DoubleCheeseBurger

Comments & Replies from 1st Post:

👩🏻: Seeing your Instagram updates on my way to work gives me energy ㅋㅋ I'll work hard to make money. Please promote again soon ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ 👏👏👏 ERIC: Make a lot of money and spend it on yourself~🔥 👩🏻: 😢 👩🏻: I want to spend it on you so I feel better🔥 ERIC: Spend your hard-earned money on yourself. I'll earn my money from broadcasting stations🔥

👩🏻: When I was a fan, I was sad because you were the least active on SNS, but now you’re the king of communication ❤️❤️❤️ ERIC: I was busy working back then. I'm not busy right now~ 👩🏻: I’m getting a reply from my old oppa… I’m a successful fan…. Be happy forever oppa❤️

👩🏻: It was horrible thinking about going to work without sleeping because my child was sick, but I should cheer up~ Fighting😍 ERIC: Aigoo, get well soon baby! Don’t make your mother upset! 🔥

👩🏻: Oppa, don’t go on a diet~!!!!! You can’t be skinny by yourself~!!!! ERIC: That’s no no. I’m currently 87 kg 🔥 👩🏻: I really like it.😌 T/N: "That's no no" (대츠노노) is a popular phrase from Masta Wu reacting to Vasco during "Show Me The Money"

👩🏻: It's as small as a booger...😢 ERIC: Why do you think my booger is that big? How rude (joking)

👩🏻: Quail eggs are cute.. Eggs that my baby likes ㅋㅋㅋ ERIC: Baby, eggs so cute~

👩🏻: I watched a lot of dramas and entertainment programs starring Eric and I really like it~ Fighting💪🏻 ERIC: Fighting🔥

🧑🏻: Hyungnim!! It's the first morning of November! I hope you continue to love and have a happy and healthy day~~❤️ ERIC: Songbin will also be on fire for November!🔥

👩🏻: Whose nose do you put that on...😂 ERIC: My nose❤️

👩🏻: Done with one slurp ERIC: Nuh uh

👩🏻: Is that an appetizer???🔥 ERIC: Don't people usually eat this much?

👩🏻: Is your hand big? Or is the plate small ? This is making me hungry 😍 ERIC: My hands and the plate are just right. 👩🏻: Kyaa❤ Oppa, since I got a comment from you, I'll do my best this week😀

👩🏻: Is that one serving????🔥 ERIC: It's definitely one serving~

👩🏻: What is the size of that bibimguksu~ I need to eat it like that.. Ahem… ERIC: Handdam you are here~ Fighting in November! I wish you all the best~👏

👩🏻: Skilled hands☺️ I’m from Jeju Island. ERIC: If I go to Jeju Island next time, please recommend a good restaurant.🔥 👩🏻: There's a local restaurant in Seogwipo, and there's a famous place called Molgorang Restaurant that has a lot of customers~ It's a restaurant that came out on episode 25 of "Gourmet Mukbang Trip"~ Next door also sells steamed mugwort bread and barley bread. It's a place where many people buy it~ The price is good~ It's 600 won per barley bread.😁👍

👩🏻: That’s just enough for tastingㅋㅋ ERIC: The noodles are so cute~

👩🏻: As expected, your hands aren't that big,, Even during the camera review, the camera was small.^^,,, ERIC: My hands are so small

👩🏻: I feel worse than the weather. I made malatang yesterday and it was the spiciest thing I had in my life. ERIC: Wow, I haven't made malatang before, but you're a master 🔥

👩🏻: Let's overcome Monday blues! And it's November from today!! ERIC: Let's kill Monday blues

👩🏻: That’s not even one bite!!!! ERIC: Nope

Comments & Replies from 2nd Post:

👩🏻: Is this for kids.. 😢 Is this the children menu ERIC: Yes it's a menu for me. 👩🏻: To be honest, my name is Hyemi.. My 6 year old son’s English name at preschool is Eric.. ㅎㅎ Mom’s ulterior motive 200%😍 ERIC: Wow 👏 I'm treated like a son at home, too ㅎ 👩🏻: I put "Shining Hyuk" in my son's name and English name is Eric ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ He asked why his name is Eric, and I said because it sounds cool.ㅋㅋㅋㅋ

👩🏻: Do you look around for miniatures? ERIC: It’s cute right? 👩🏻: Oppa is cuter 🧡🧡

👩🏻: I guess cute people only eat cute things. ERIC: So cute

👩🏻: Why is your hand in the photos all the time .. ㅋㅋ ERIC: So you can see the size (of the food)~ 👩🏻: It’s my first time getting a reply😇 I'm touched…😳😳😳😳😳😳

👩🏻: ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋWhat's up with your hand???????ㅋㅋㅋ ERIC: Suyeonㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ That's annoying🔥 👩🏻: oh oh oh MZ generationㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ ERIC: Hah... T/N:  Generation MZ is a combination of Millennials (born 1981-1996) and Gen Z (born 1997-2012)

👩🏻: No? Your hand is just big right? ERIC: It's not~~~

👩🏻: Is that pickle real??!🥒 ERIC: Pickle so cute❤️

👩🏻: That pickleㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ It’s so cute? ERIC: Right? The pickle makes my heart race❤️

👩🏻: Whose nose..do you put it on..????? ERIC: My nose❤️

Source: muneric (1, 2) Translation: EricMun.tumblr