#you guys should thank me for having the restraint to just not delete all of my old stuff for good

[hide-in-imagination]

Another question, hehe yes it's me again 😅 To specify the scene, what do you think would have happened and how would the story between Ámbar and Simón have unfolded if Benicio had not appeared here? ( i mean episode 10 in the third series)

I actually wrote a whole oneshot about this, which I was going to refer you to, but then I read it and I realized it's cringy as hell and I need to re-write it, so don't read it kjsdnf.

What could've happened? Well, if Benicio didn't show up, they definitely would've kissed, and then maybe Juliana could've shown up instead, like I wrote in my oneshot. If not that, well, they would've have to stop kissing at some point either way and face the music.

I imagine they would move a little away from each other and look around self-consciously once they realize what they had just done in such a public place.

-----------

Simón cleared his throat, still looking away from her. "It seems like Benicio is still missing, so we can stop the rehearsal, right?" He said quickly.

Ámbar was looking at him and she couldn't stop the ironic humor from pouring out. "You're gonna call that a rehearsal? Because I don't remember there being any kiss in the choreography, let me tell you." Her lips were still tingling; she did not imagine that.

Simón kept his head low as he skated back to the bleachers. Ámbar followed after him, watching as he sat as if to take off his skates.

"Hi, sorry to insist," she told him more harshly this time, in opposition to her words, "I know you want to go and all, but it seems to me like it's been proven very clearly that it doesn't bother you to skate with me, nor do other stuff with me, and I've got plenty of witnesses," she gestured around, "in case you want to ask them."

Simón finally desisted in taking off his skates and instead got up once more, standing in front of her.

"Make fun of me all you want but what happened there was about us two, not just me."

"I'm not making fun--"

He scoffed and looked away. "Yeah, right."

"I'm not making fun of you, but could you please-" she grabbed his chin and made him look at her "-look me in the eye and face that it happened? Don't just ignore me."

Simón searched her face moment. "Okay." The look on his face settled on something kind of like a dare, but with the complete confidence that he already knew the outcome. "Okay, you wanna talk about feelings? I'm listening." He crossed his arms in front of his chest and waited.

Ámbar's brows raised up high and she huffed out a laugh. "'Feelings'? You mean the feelings you have towards me, I imagine. Feel free to admit to them whenever you want."

"And you feel nothing towards me," he said like a question.

Ámbar shrugged, her thumbs tucked inside her back pockets in the perfect image of nonchalance. "I mean, not nothing nothing, obviously. I've never denied that I'm somewhat interested in you."

Simón's face was never really open but it was completely closed off now.

He nodded slowly to himself. "Right." He moved a little closer. "Look, how about this?" He proposed. "I'm going to get back to work, and whenever you feel like admitting anything, you can go and look for me, okay?"

He turned around and left before she could say another word.

Ámbar deflated and rolled her eyes before returning to the rink.

...It seemed like she would have to drop her act if she wanted to get anywhere with Simón.

She just wasn't sure if it was worth it, yet.

-------I'll leave the dialogue in Spanish here too just because------

"Parece que Benicio sigue sin aparecer, así que podemos dejar el ensayo, ¿no?"

"¿'Ensayo' le vas a llamar a eso? Perdonáme pero que yo recuerde no había ningún beso en la coreografía."

*Simón se va a los asientos a sacarse los patines*

"Perdón que te insista, sé que te querés ir y todo, pero me parece que quedó bastante claro que no te molesta patinar conmigo, o hacer otras conmigo, y tengo varios testigos, por si les querés preguntar."

"Búrlate todo lo que quieras pero lo que pasó ahí fue cosa de los dos, no solo de mí."

"No me estoy burlando--"

Él bufó. "Sí, claro--"

"No me estoy burlando pero ¿me podés mirar a los ojos por favor y afrontar que pasó? No me ignorés así."

"...Okay. Okay, ¿quieres hablar sentimientos? Te escucho."

Ella expulsó una risa y levantó las cejas. "¿Sentimientos? Los sentimientos que vos tenés por mí, querrás decir. Lo podés admitir cuando quieras."

"Y tú no sientes nada por mí" lo dijo como si fuera una pregunta.

She shrugged, her thumbs in her back pockets in the stark image of nonchalance. "O sea, nada de nada no, obviamente. Nunca he ocultado que algo me interesás."

Él asintió para sí mismo. "Claro." "Mira, ¿qué te parece esto? Yo voy a volver a trabajar, y cuando sea que tú quieras admitir algo, vas y buscas, ¿órale?"

[marveloussupernerd]

How to Make a Guy Fall in Love in 10 Days - Atsumu Miya

a lil smooch (4)

• Masterlist • Previous • Next •

Synopsis: you’re a writer for a popular women’s magazine. Last month you wrote an article about how to make a guy fall in love with you in 10 days. A lot of people called you out and said that it would never actually work. So now you’re tasked with a new article: making the city’s biggest playboy, Atsumu Miya, fall in love with you in just ten days

Reblogs and comments are appreciated!

“Aw, your friends think I’m hot,” Atsumu giggled, kicking back in the passenger seat as you drove.

“That is not an important message you were NOT supposed to read that!” You whined, refusing to meet his eyes. “I’m glad I deleted my past messages with them now.”

“Why? Were ya goin’ on about how dreamy I am?”

“I was not!”

“You’re blushing.”

You pouted. You hated that he was reading your texts. You had done something so nice for him too, offering to take him to the concert. You hated that Makki said he was hot. You told them he would be looking at the messages!

Well, it was probably just Makki trying to stir something up.

Atsumu finally broke the tense silence of the car. “You look pretty too.”

“Thanks...”

“But seriously,” he touched your arm gently. “Your friend really needs to know if I look hot tonight and I of course want to give the most accurate to you answer, so what would you say?”

“If I tell you you look hot can we drop this conversation.”

“Never.”

The concert had finished: Atsumu’s eyes had been trained on you for the past few songs since you had kissed.

“Did’ja have fun?” He asked, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“Actually yeah! I haven’t been to a concert in a while,” you grinned.

“So I was thinking... we should get a hotel room for tonight. Since we both have drank a little. Then we can drive back tomorrow.”

You took a second to think about it. “Yeah, I guess that’s a good idea.”

You walked out of the concert stadium, then off to the side to a quieter, more secluded area. And there you sat, on the corner of a curb, leaning against Atsumu’s shoulder, as the two of you started calling hotels to check for availability.

It took a half hour.

“Really!?” Atsumu asked excitedly, nudging you slightly to look at him. “Great. That’s awesome.” He flashed you a thumbs up and a grin. “Uhh, two beds. Yes, please. Okay! We’ll be there soon. Thanks so much!”

He hung up the phone then looked at you.

“Aw you don’t wanna share a bed with me, Miya?” You teased, poking at his stomach.

He laughed, slightly ticklish from your pokes. “I expected you to congratulate me on finding a room, but whatever. Yes. This isn’t a fan fiction. We don’t need to share a bed.”

“What a shame.”

“Believe it or not, I’m trying very hard to practice self restraint,” he confessed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Last time I slept in the same room as a girl my age and it didn’t lead to screwing was... well, sixth grade church sleepaway camp I think.”

“Church camp. How noble.”

“Yeah yeah. Point of the matter is you’re lucky to be stuck with such a gentleman.”

“Sure thing.”

Notes:

• Atsumu has wanted to kiss you all night but took the song as a perfect opportunity

• Kuroo is 100% supportive of the relationship, Suga is kind of worried, Osamu doesn’t think Atsumu really is committed

• You both crashed the second you got the hotel, in your separate beds

Taglist: @pansexualproblemchild @90s-belladonna @chantalkate16 @internethome @xxsilverwingxx @kingggjaay @maybektzukisbabey @malxoxo lmk if you wanna be added!

[sageinacage]

Why I am leaving this blog

This is the truth as of why I'm abandoning my tumblr, @/sageinacage.

CW: swearing/harsher language; mentions of breaking boundaries, sexualization, bondage, non-con/tickle torture, kinks, toxicity, overall rly uncomfortable topics

TLDR at the bottom.

Before I start, I want to say that I’m not talking about everyone in this community. Not everyone is like this, but still a lot of people are, and unfortunately the negatives are louder than the positives.

Having this blog was quite an adventure. It definitely had its ups and downs, but I was quick to notice that it had a majority of downs instead of ups. As of now, I'm dreading being on this page.

I don't feel comfortable here anymore and it's incredibly hard for me to feel any sense of safety in this community, and I honestly feel personally ashamed to be in the MCYT tickle community with the bullshit me and others have seen and experienced.

People go around on anonymous and practically harass creators, I've seen so many rude anons get sent to myself, my friends, and people on my dash. People are also breaking CC's boundaries left and right, and no one will listen to anyone when it's spoken up about. I remember making a post stating that if you send anon hate then DNI, and I lost 4 followers. So disappointing. Actually after I took a screenshot of my boundary/trigger list and posted it, someone sent me an ask and did EXACTLY what was listed in my triggers. It went fully against my boundaries, and it caused me to feel scared whenever I get a notification in my inbox, because I’m scared that somebody is trying to purposely trigger me again; and I shouldn’t have to be on Tumblr with such paranoia as I’m experiencing.

Going onto the topic of the more weird and uncomfortable side of the community, I also remember I made a post a while ago saying "if you support putting minors in heavy bondage, then unfollow," and I lost 5+ followers. To put it bluntly, that’s fucking disgusting. For those people to admit for putting minors in a borderline NSFW situation, since heavy bondage is quite literally something that only happens in the kink world and there’s nothing wholesome or cute about it, and for them to admit to doing it, is fucking weird. Though, I’m thankful those people got off my blog.

I have literally seen someone post art of c!Ranboo in heavy restraints and it didn’t even look remotely fun or consensual. It was pictured, or at least my friends and I interpreted it, that he was being tickle tortured and it was non-con. Though, it’s to be expected when the art is a dark-lit room with an intense tickle machine with heavy bondage, with a blindfold and what looks he is genuinely struggling. What made me even more uncomfortable is that an adult drew it. Another person wrote a fic of c!Ranboo in a lot of bondage with the sign “tickle toy” attached to him. That’s fucking weird. That’s practically something that never gets condoned in a strictly SFW sense. The sad part is that others and I have seen a lot of this happening around.

I was actually informed that an artist the other day on another MCYT tickle server drew literal non-con tickle art of Technoblade (/srs). I was revolted. The worst part is, some people didn't even have an issue with it and reacted to the image with heart emojis. For someone to draw non-con in a completely SFW server filled with a bunch of minors is creepy and weird. Non-con isn't a fun thing, and so many people, including me, have horrible experiences related to it; and for someone to turn it into a "heehee fun tickle" situation is fucked up. For someone to even fantasize non-con as a tickle fantasy just makes me feel sick. There are a few fics like this I've seen as well, unfortunately.

Related to non-con things, I've actually gotten a request before asking me to write Schlatt literally tickle torturing Tubbo, and multiple asks that are similar to that; even when on my request rules it stated not to ask for things related to that. Anything with the word "torture" in it is not consensual, especially in the context it was in. I’ve probably had to delete around 5–8 asks in total from my inbox that were related to non-con or torturous things, even after I already stated in my rules I do not write that stuff.

Another thing I've seen is romantic-esque things written with CCs and then the creator slaps a "/p" onto it, and all of a sudden it's okay? Ranboo has even stated in a stream that he is uncomfortable with his IRL self being written/drawn cuddling his friends, and I see so many fics and concepts of IRL Ranboo cuddling in some way (which I've spoken out about before, but again, no one listened).

Moving on, I've probably met the most toxic people in this community than any others I've been apart of- and I've been apart of a lot, I've been on Tumblr on different blogs since I was 11. For some reason, so many people love to guilt trip here (both my friends and I have noticed and experienced a bunch of people doing it in this community), and the people who get called out for it avoid apologizing like the plague. A person in this community made me and a few others literally scared to say no and scared to advocate for our boundaries, because of how much we got guilt tripped. And no, no one received an apology. But still, people DEFENDED this person, even though me and other people spoke out and explained how this person hurt us. That’s so fucking upsetting. I automatically don’t feel safe in a community where people willingly associate with a literal manipulator and someone who hurt probably over 10 people in total (/srs).

Another thing I've noticed is that so many people seem entitled to something. For example, when I got practically harassed by anons for my discomforts/triggers, basically trying to squeeze out reasoning. No one needs to explain their boundaries/discomforts to you, and this community doesn't understand that from what I've experienced; after being harassed by multiple people on anonymous multiple times, all of which were because of personal reasons I was not obligated to share. No one should be able to say that they got harassed by people on anon for their OWN BOUNDARIES. ON 3 DIFFERENT OCCASIONS AS WELL.

Long story short, I can’t help my triggers. Each of my triggers has developed from trauma I’ve gone through or a bad experience, and I shouldn’t even have to defend myself for my triggers/discomforts if people were respectful and weren’t so fucking entitled for an explanation. So many people in this community can’t mind their own business, and I unfortunately had to learn that the hard way.

I've also seen people project onto IRL CCs. Those are real and breathing people. I understand doing it for comfort, but, the CCs have a literal character that people can project onto, but for some reason, people have to push their things onto real life people. I’ve seen someone headcannon IRL Tommy as trans. That's like the same as your friend "headcannoning" you, a real person, as a different sexuality that isn't what you identify with, and one you may not even be OK with being seen as, and without knowing if you're comfortable with it or not. It's weird.

There are more points I could bring up and more specific things I could state, but I think you got the gist of why I'm leaving. I don't feel comfortable being a member in a community which a lot of its members condone in this stuff.

This is the reason why I'm only active in the MCYT tickle community on Discord, because my server, "Mcytickles," actually respects CCs boundaries and is truly an SFW server, and people are respectful towards each other. It's the only safe space I have in this community anymore, so please do not join it if you exhibit any of these things on this post.

No, I will not be coming back, so please do not try to convince me to stay. I’ve been wanting to leave for about a month now, so this isn’t some impulsive decision. I’ve been in the MCYT tickle community since April, and these problems have always existed but have just gotten worse and more extreme, so I’m leaving for my own mental health and to protect myself from further harm than what I’ve already received.

TLDR: I am leaving this blog and the MCYT tickle community on Tumblr due to the many boundary breaking and unacceptable behaviors I've seen be exhibited, and it makes me not feel safe and comfortable to be here anymore.

I want to thank my mutuals, though. You were all awesome and such kind and loving people, and I’m happy to be your guys’ mutual. I want to thank those who were always so nice to me and hyping up my work, and those who were respectful to everyone and advocated for boundaries. Thank you so much for everything, moots <3 (/gen)

[marvelyningreen]

Aftershocks - Night 1

Night 1 | Night 2 | Night 3 | (deleted scene)

[Summary: Peter Maximoff is an unflappable sorta guy. He’d never let anything get to him before, and this recent misadventure will be no different. ...Right?

Warnings: mild language, references to injury, general trauma-related angst

Notes: Peter Maximoff x reader, of the established relationship variety. A ‘what if Fietro really was Peter?’ scenario. Same continuity/reader character from Linger and Late-bloomer. ]

On your first night back from Westview, you hesitate at Peter’s door. You’ve gotten so close to saying goodnight to each other half a dozen times, but here you still are.

“Why don’t you stay for a while?” Peter asks after an awkward few seconds of silence. “I’m not really all that tired. Are you?”

“Not really,” you lie.

Judging by the dark circles under Peter’s eyes, he’s not being entirely honest either.

It was late afternoon when you’d gotten back. Well, it was late afternoon here, at least. The passage of time in Westview was nebulous, to say the least.

Hank had been there to meet you when you all emerged from the portal – Peter, yourself, Mr. Lehnsherr and the professor, and the newcomers: Wanda Maximoff and her twin sons, Billy and Tommy. Hank summarily hurried you all off to the lab for debriefing, and also for a precautionary exam. Who knew what side-effects there could be from traveling between realities?

None, as it turns out. Wanda and the boys were just fine. Peter was a little dehydrated and underfed, but was otherwise in good health. You were ultimately the most scuffed-up from the experience.

In addition to the same issues as Peter, you’d amassed a fair amount of cuts and scrapes and bruises. Thankfully, the worst of it is just a badly sprained knee that’ll take several weeks to heal. Inconvenient, but bearable.

Peter has been pretty positive the whole time. If anything, he’s maybe a little too chipper, all things considered. But then again, he was immersed in playing cool uncle to the twins, and was probably just trying to keep their spirits up. They’d been through quite a lot, too.

“You should at least try to sleep, though,” you say, as you limp into Peter’s room.

Peter scoffs good-naturedly. “Are you trying to baby me?”

“Well, one of us has to be the responsible one.”

Peter rolls his eyes. Before you can blink, he’s changed into shorts and an old Pink Floyd t-shirt. He leans in to kiss you.

“I’ll try to sleep if you’ll at least sit down,” he says. “Deal?”

You smile. “Deal.”

As Peter climbs into bed, you settle yourself on the sofa. To say that it’d been a long few days would be understating things to a criminal degree.

You’d stepped through a mysterious portal to rescue Peter from wherever he’d been abducted to. You’d found that the culprit was a witch who’d taken him in an attempt to steal the power of another witch, and that witch is an alternate reality version of Peter’s sister… sorta? Or maybe not. You still aren’t completely clear on how any of this works.

Regardless, you’d ended up helping a woman named Captain Rambeau – who has powers like a mutant, but apparently isn’t one – to free Peter from the witch’s control. And then the young sons of Peter’s not-sister were in danger from some military creep, because said military creep had apparently made a cyborg zombie version of Wanda’s late husband.

Or something. Again, this was a lot to take in in a short period of time.

And no sooner had the business with magic and the military been cleared up than the professor and Mr. Lehnsherr appeared, intending to serve as backup. Luckily, there was no need.

Peter went to make his goodbyes and, in true Peter Maximoff fashion, wound up inviting Wanda and her sons to come back to the mansion with all of you. You weren’t the least bit surprised that the professor was fully on board with this. He’s always the first to reach out with compassion to a soul that’s lost and hurting.

What shouldn’t have surprised you as much as it did was hearing Mr. Lehnsherr do the same. Between the three of them, Wanda was convinced to come to the school and to learn about her powers in a place where she and her sons would be safe and among friends.

It was at this point that Peter was trying to be in two places at once – serving as liaison to Wanda and the boys, and also making sure that you were alright. He only succeeded in making everyone dizzy, until Mr. Lehnsherr stepped in. He instructed Peter to focus on guiding the newcomers and volunteered to look after you himself. You found yourself leaning on Mr. Lehnsherr for support as you limped through the portal and back to your own world.

“Y’know what I can’t stop thinking about?” says Peter.

“Hmm?”

He turns to grin at you. “Your strawberry rhubarb pie.”

“I know I canned some of that this summer,” you say. “Do I have any left…?”

“If you don’t, one of the students has plant manipulation powers. I’m just sayin’.”

You laugh, and the conversation goes on in much the same vein - talking about a hundred little things that don’t matter.

Westview isn’t brought up, and neither are witches and magic. Nobody mentions Wanda and her twin sons in the room down the hall.

Peter hadn’t been able to give very clear answers to Hank’s questions about his experience. He said that it was all pretty blurry, and chalked up to a side-effect of that weird mind-control necklace thing.

You aren’t sure whether this is cause for worry or not.

The conversation with Peter has been fading in and out for a while now. Typical sleepover experience, really. Silence for a few minutes, and then a bit of banter, and a scattered response here and there, and then more silence.

It’s… It’s actually been silent for a while now. And when did your eyes close, anyway?

You look at the clock to see that over an hour has passed since you last checked the time. But you’re awake now, and you find that you’re not tired anymore. Moonlight streams through the windows, falling across Peter’s bed. He’s still sleeping, thank goodness.

At first you think that the sudden sense of reassurance is just because Peter’s getting some rest. He’s had quite the experience, after all. But there’s more to it than that. You realize that you’re just glad that Peter’s home and safe.

You haven’t really thought about it before, but part of you had always seen Peter as, well, sort of invincible. He’s clever, and capable, and impossibly fast. He can outpace an explosion. He can redirect bullets as easy as breathing. Nothing outside of a godlike entity or an otherworldly power had been able to touch him.

But you can’t stop thinking about this other man – this Pietro. He was fast, too, and he was probably just as capable. That didn’t prevent him from being shot to death while saving the lives of two other people.

Odd coincidental similarities aside, Peter and Pietro aren’t the same. You know this. And yet… You’ve already almost lost Peter once.

In Westview, once you’d found yourself abruptly separated from Vision, you’d realized that you were in way over your head. There was something sinister going on, and you had no idea whether Peter’s kidnapping was a part of it, or if it was something else entirely.

You’d wandered the streets, trying your best to look like you were supposed to be there. At first glance, everything seemed normal. But the more you looked, the more things just felt… off.

It seemed to be summer, but there were no kids at the pool, or in the park, or riding their bikes up and down the block. All the cars looked just a little too shiny and new for a small town. All the yards were too perfectly manicured. Every single person wore well-coordinated outfits. It all felt staged.

Down the block, you noticed a mailbox labeled with the name “Vision,” and-

You hesitated. Maybe best not to go barging in, right? Leaning against a streetlight, you pretended to rummage for something in your bag while you kept an eye on the house. Again, the oddly regimented behavior continued. People walked past the house at intervals that seemed random at first, but weren’t quite. It was more like they were spaced out intentionally to seem random.

Aside from that bit of weirdness, nothing unusual had happened. You hadn’t seen any trace of Peter in your wanderings. This Vision guy was your only lead. Steeling yourself, you started walking down the street, intent on knocking on that door and figuring out the rest from there.

And that’s when somebody clamped a hand over your mouth and twisted your arm, pinning it behind your back. Before you had a chance to struggle or even scream, the scenery in front of you blurred and darkened.

You blinked. The world was still again. You were in a dark, oddly-shaped room. It might’ve been hexagonal, but you couldn’t move to look around. The person who’d grabbed you was still holding you immobile.

“So, they sent another one in, huh?” said an unfamiliar voice. “You’d think they would’ve learned by now, but that’s military types for you.”

The speaker stepped into view. It was a woman – middle-aged and dark-haired. She wasn’t worried like Vision had been, nor was she blithely serene like the other people you’d seen. Her presence was commanding, unconcerned. There was something about the way she sized you up that unsettled you.

“I’ve got it from here, thank you,” said the woman.

The other person released you, and you immediately felt some strange energy wind around you. It tightened around your wrists and ankles, binding them fast, and yanked you several inches into the air.

“Who are you? Let me go!” You struggled to free yourself, but you couldn’t budge the restraints even an inch. Even your powers seemed to glance off them ineffectually.

The woman raised an eyebrow.

“Now that’s interesting,” she said. “How did you manage to get into Westview with your personality intact? Even he was calling himself ‘Ralph’ at first. You’re not with S.W.O.R.D., are you? And I can tell already you’re not a witch. Let’s see…”

The woman made some complex gesture with her hands. A purple mist crept across your vision. You felt something wrapping itself around your mind – covering it like a net, humming like an electric current. You shook your head, trying to clear it away, but it clung like a spider web.

The professor. Just before you’d left, he placed some sort of psychic shielding around your mind, just in case. He wasn’t sure what sort of dangers you’d be facing. You doubt this was what he’d been anticipating, but whatever this woman was trying to do to you, the shield resisted it.

The woman’s eyes narrowed. You felt the web’s grip on your mind tighten, vice-like. At first it was just uncomfortable, but the pressure increased until it was a stranglehold on your consciousness. The edges of your field of vision started to go gray. There was a pounding in your head, a ringing in your ears. You tried to scream.

You couldn’t breathe.

You couldn’t breathe.

And then its hold released, leaving you gasping for air. If you hadn’t been suspended in midair like that, you would’ve collapsed. The woman watched you with something like fury in her eyes.

“What are you?” she demanded.

Dazed, you blurted out an answer. “I’m nothing. I’m nobody. I’m just trying to find my friend.”

You nearly ignored the movement in the corner of your eye as you tried to pull yourself together. You’d honestly forgotten that there was somebody else in the room. You looked up, and-

Your blood ran cold.

“Peter!”

He was there. He was alright! He-

No. No, he wasn’t. Something was wrong.

Peter watched you with the blank, nonchalant gaze of a stranger.

“Sorry, babe,” he said, shrugging. “Peter’s not here right now.”

“Wha… What did you do to him?!”

You wrenched uselessly at the restraints and Peter… he actually laughed.

“What, him?” said the woman. “He’s fine. I needed a replacement Pietro, and he was the best I could do on short notice.”

She eyed him critically, reaching up to adjust his hair like some sort of demented stage mom.

“Get your hands off him!” you snarled. “And who the hell is Pietro?”

The woman laughed incredulously. “You’re really not from around here, are you? You followed him from that other reality, and- Oh. Oh… I see it now. Oh, that’s too adorable. You’re in love with him.”

Her laugh turned into something that was almost a cackle, and Peter joined in. You felt sick.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to do to this town, but Peter’s got nothing to do with it. Let him go.”

“What I’m trying to do-? Oh, pumpkin, you have no idea what you stumbled into.” The woman shook her head in feigned sympathy. “Sorry, but I’m not done with my Fietro yet. And as for you… I won’t be able to get rid of you, but I can’t have you running around getting in my way. I’ll just have to put you someplace for safekeeping, and I know just the spot.”

The woman raised her hand again, and smiled menacingly at you.

“You can try to tell them who you really are,” she said, “But I wouldn’t count on anybody believing you where you’re going. Buh-bye, hon!”

Movement in the room catches your attention, drawing you out of your reminiscing.

Peter stirs in his sleep. He reaches out for a moment, and then his hand falls back onto his chest. He exhales heavily – not quite a sigh – and is still once again.

Then, his hand moves restlessly towards his throat, fingers gripping at nothing like he’s trying to pull at the collar of his shirt, or-

“No, please,” he mumbles, “Please…”

Your knee is stiff from being motionless for so long. It just about gives way under you as you scramble to Peter’s side. You stumble, falling rather than sitting on the edge of the bed.

You catch Peter’s hand in yours and smooth his hair back from his forehead.

“Peter?” You’re surprised at how frantic your voice sounds. “Peter, wake up!”

Peter snaps awake with a gasp. He yanks his hand free of yours, scrambling to push himself back towards the headboard and staring wildly around the room.

You hold up your hands where he can see them, careful not to reach towards him at all. “It’s okay! It’s okay. It’s just me.”

“You…?” Peter stares at you for a moment, as though trying to remember where he is. “Listen, I know this is gonna sound crazy, but can you tell me something only you would know? Anything. Please.”

For a second, your mind goes blank. Something only you would know? You’d spent enough time with Peter that there has to be…

You’ve got it.

You look Peter in the eyes, giving him a little smile. “Who else would know that you’re my hummingbird?”

Peter’s laugh is brief, but genuine. You’d called him that once as a joke – saying that it’d be a fitting codename with his speed, attitude, and love of sugar – and it’d since become your teasing pet name for him. You’d never said it in front of anyone else, though. You may only use it to get a rise out of him, but you never wanted it to become an embarrassing nickname for him or anything.

Peter’s initial panic is replaced by an apologetic smile, but you’re certain that his heart is still racing.

“Thanks. And I’m sorry,” he says. “Bad dreams, y’know?”

“No kidding. You wanna talk about it?”

“I…” Peter looks away, frowning slightly. “I can’t say I actually remember what I was dreaming about, to be honest.”

If you were unsure before, you’re definitely starting to worry now. You make up your mind to talk to Hank and the professor about Peter’s memory lapses. Maybe it’s nothing, but for your own peace of mind, at least…

Still, you don’t want to let on to Peter that you’re worried about him.

“Are you gonna be okay?” you ask. “Need me to get you anything?”

Peter musters up a grin. “Oh, I’ll be fine. And there’s no way I’d send you off to get anything for me with your knee all messed up. But… would you mind staying a little longer? Or you don’t have to leave at all. I mean, it’s already late, and it’s pretty cold out there.”

“I don’t have anywhere to be,” you say, smiling gently. “You just lay back down, alright?”

Peter nods. Once he’s resettled himself under the covers, you lean down to kiss him.

“I love you,” you say.

“I love you, too.”

Peter reaches over to hold your hand. He takes a deep breath, and closes his eyes again.

That Peter falls back asleep within the hour is a testament to how wore out he must be. As for yourself, you remember seeing the horizon brightening outside the window before you finally drift off.

[justthehiddleswrites]

Follow My Lead | Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Vivian Swann) | Chapter 5 | I bet you look so pretty when you beg.

A/N: This will update every Thursday.  There are 13 chapters.  There are all sorts of kinds of D/s relationships.  This is the one I choose to write this time.  

MASTERLIST HERE

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Vivian Swann)

Summary: Tom and Vivian have both been unlucky in love, searching for something outside of the bounds of a typical relationship.  When the two of them connect via a dating app, Tom is introduced to the idea of being submissive to Vivian.  Which is the one thing he never knew he needed.  Under the firm hand of Vivian, Tom learns what it means to submit and Vivian learns what it means to be in a loving dominant relationship.  But not everyone seems to understand what they have and the best intentions can destroy the strongest relationship.

This Chapter:  Sophie and Vivian bond over shopping and Tom and Vivian finally have sex.  But not before a little denial.  

Warnings for story: Dominant/submissive relationship (sub!Tom), lots of smut including but not limited to: vaginal sex, oral sex (male and female receiving), edging, denial, teasing, use of restraints, spanking, multiple orgasm, anal play, use of toys.

Tag Lists Are Open!  Let me know if you want to be added.  Thank you for reading!

-

Vivian tossed on a pair of jeans and a blouse for lunch at Tom’s and then shopping with Sophie. She read and reread Tom’s essay that night. She may have even teared up a bit. Not that she would admit that to Tom just yet. Vivian eschewed heels that day, opting for a driving mocassin.

She texted Tom when she was already halfway to his house, knowing he was already pacing the length of his living room. His nervous energy reminded her of an overexcited puppy. So sweet and endearing. And that smile, that damn smile, melted Vivian’s heart in a way she never felt before.

“Come in.” Tom opened the door wide with a smile.

Tom wore a pair of beat up shorts, t-shirt and trainers. Vivian could see his abs through the thin fabric. She wanted nothing more than to rip off that shirt and lick them. But there was much to discuss. She grabbed the back of his head and kissed him, tongues exploring. They parted.

“God, I love kissing you, sunshine.” she commented, licking her lips.

“I love kissing you, too, ma’am.” Tom whispered back. He hoped for more, but Vivian stepped into the kitchen and sat down, gesturing for Tom to sit next to her. He sat, hands folded in front of him.

“So…” he started.

Vivian slid a folded piece of paper over towards Tom. He unfolded it. It was his essay. Vivian had underlined and circled portions of his writing.

“My essay?”

“Did you mean it?”

“Every word, ma’am.” Tom responded. He stared at her.

“You realize what you are wanting? You realize what it would mean?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Tom exhaled. “I have thought about it long before I even met you. To be honest, I think I have subconsciously been seeking this out in my relationships. Seeking out strong and independent women. And it ended in disaster. I think they assumed I would take control, ‘be the man’, make the decisions. I make decisions all day at my job. I play the role of the one in control. But what I want, what I need is surrender. To be strong by giving my control away. To trust someone with my heart and my life.”

“On a daily basis? To give total control to me? It’s okay if you don’t, we can play, keep things casual. It’s not unusual for submissive men to think they want this and then get intimidated or scared.”

“I won’t know if I don’t try. But what I can say is that I have never felt as happy and comfortable than I am with you.” Tom smirked. “Tied up to your bed in my underwear. Give me the chance.”

Vivian chewed on her lip. Tom never looked more like a puppy than he did in that moment. His short golden hair rumpled as though he had run his hands through it waiting for her. His blue eyes wide, hopeful, and on the precipice of spilling tears.

“You know you won’t always get what you want?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“That I will say no to you?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And you need to do as I say?”

“Of course, ma’am.”

Vivian smiled and pulled Tom over to her lap, smoothing his hair. He nuzzled into her neck, inhaling the scent of woodsy perfume. “Then we will do this, sunshine. If at any point you want to stop, tell me.”

“Yes, ma’am.” he muttered into her neck, his breath hot on the skin.

She lifted his head and kissed him tenderly. “Good boy.” She cupped his face. “My beautiful good boy.”

Tom glowed.

They stood and Vivian pulled out an envelope and handed it to Tom. It contained a list of various kinks and sexual acts with boxes for Tom to mark “yes”, “soft no” and “hard no.” “Fill this out and give it back to me today after I return from shopping.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“We will continue with the 9 p.m. phone call. I am busy this week so I won’t be able to meet until the weekend.”

Tom nodded, disappointed but understanding. He had a few meetings himself. “Yes, ma’am.” He fidgeted in his seat.

“The next time we get together, we will have sex.” She reached out to stroke Tom’s arm. He shivered. “Until then, no more masturbating.”

“Yes… what?” Tom’s brow furrowed.

She smirked. “No jerking off, no orgasms, no touching yourself, sunshine.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He shuffled his feet. That was going to be a difficult task to accomplish.

“And you are to take a photo of your cock, either in your underwear or pajamas in the morning, and send it to me.”

Tom’s mouth dropped open. His cheeks reddened. He stared at the floor. “Yes… yes ma’am.” he stuttered.

Vivian pulled him into a sweet kiss, her hand petting the back of his hand. “Don’t be embarrassed, sunshine. These photos will never see the light of day and I will delete them after I view them.”

He exhaled sharply. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Now let’s eat.”

Tom rushed to the kitchen and grabbed the salad and sandwiches he made earlier from the fridge. He set them down on the table and then returned with a glass of water for both of them. Tom sat and waited for Vivian to eat before taking a bite.

“Did you make the sandwich?” She asked.

Tom finished chewing before answering. “Yes, ma’am.”

“It’s delicious. Perfect lunch for a warm day. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Can I ask a question?”

“Of course.” Vivian smiled.

Tom chewed on his lip. “Do you think I am ‘less of a man’ for wanting this?”

“Quite the contrary, sunshine. I find it strong, not to mention sexy that you are willing to give power to me. Your masculinity is not contingent on being in charge, on being the boss of the relationship. It is about mutual trust and respect.” Tom nodded but said nothing. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You have been in several high profile relationships or rumoured relationships. And you have commented more than once that they ended in disaster. What happened?”

“That’s not just a question, but the question. I guess what happened was the same thing that happened in all failed relationships. We wanted different things.”

“What did they want?”

“They wanted the guy on the screen. The Jonathan Pine, the Loki. The man who shoves you against a wall and fucks you senseless. The man who pushes her to her knees and has her suck my cock. The one who calls the shots. The alpha male. It’s exhausting. Eventually there would be friction and then argument. I could never articulate properly what I wanted. And then they left. Sometimes loudly, sometimes with an apology. But they left.” Tom sniffled.

She caressed his cheek. “They didn’t deserve you, sunshine.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” He sniffed again and then cleared the plate. He checked the time. “I am due at Benedict’s.”

“Drive me, please. I am meeting Sophie there.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Tom gathered his keys, wallet and phone and led Vivian to his car. He opened her door before getting in himself. She scratched the nape of his neck. “Have I told you what a perfect gentleman you are?”

“No, ma’am.”

“You are. So polite and kind and generous. I can’t wait to make you beg for me to let you come.”

Tom jerked the car forward. “Yes, ma’am.”

She twirled his hair between her fingers, she noticed Tom’s shorts tenting. Vivian waited for the stoplight before continuing. “I bet you look so pretty when you beg. My pretty little sunshine.”

Beads of sweat popped out on Tom’s temples. “Yes. ma’am.” He didn’t know how else to respond. All the blood was rushing somewhere other than his brain.

“I guess we will see.” she mused before squeezing the back of his neck and then fiddling with the radio.

It took the rest of the drive for Tom to get his body back under control. He wiped the sweat from his brow as he rounded around the car to open Vivian’s door. Vivian knocked on the door, her hand on the small of Tom’s back. Sophie answered.

“You two came together!” She pulled Vivian into a hug. “And you are at a reasonable height!”

Vivian laughed. “I wore my shopping shoes.” She wiggled her feet.

“Smart woman.” Benedict poked his head around Sophie. She turned and kissed his cheek and rubbed his shoulder. “And the two of you are actually going to tear down that shed and not sit around and drink beer?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Benedict teased. She rubbed his shoulder. Tom stiffened at Ben’s words, but Vivian rubbed his neck and he relaxed.

“Have a good time, darling.” She kissed Tom’s cheek. “Sophie, shall we?”

The two women linked arms and stepped out. Tom’s eyes lingered on Vivian as she and Sophie laughed.

“Should I be worried, mate?” He asked Benedict, who handed him a hammer.

“Two strong independent women, one of whom knows several secrets about both of us? Yes, you should.”

Tom paled.

-

“You should buy it.” Vivian urged Sophie, who was holding up a gorgeous dress.

“But where would I wear it?”

“Red carpet. A gala. Around the house. Who cares?”

“Around the house?”

Vivian smirked. “Are you saying that your husband wouldn’t want to see you in that dress?”

Sophie eyed the short hemline and low neckline. “Good point, but…”

“If you don’t buy it, I will.” Vivian grabbed for the dress, but Sophie snatched it back.

“Find your own dress!” she giggled.

“Not a problem.” Vivian held up her other arm, ladened with clothes.

Vivian laughed more in the few hours with Sophie than she had in a long time. She had few female friends outside of Ashley, who was busy in starting up her own small boutique firm. Sophie was a delight, sharing stories about Tom and Benedict.

“Did he really streak into the pool?” Vivian asked.

Sophie nodded her head. “Both of them. Although I am certain copious amounts of alcohol bolstered their boldness. You have a bit of an exhibitionist on your hands.”

Vivian blushed. “I can’t say I blame him. Which reminds me…”

She wandered over to the men’s section of the store. Vivian selected a couple of t-shirts for Tom, in shades of blue and maroon. The cotton brushed and soft against her skin and the vee of the neckline cut deep. She also picked up a few pairs of black boxer briefs with bright contrasting elastic bands on the inside. They weren’t Calvin Klein, but Vivian was certain Tom would be delicious in them.

“Already buying Tom’s clothes? The two of you are progressing quickly.”

Vivian smiled, not wanting to betray Tom’s privacy, not even to Sophie. “He mentioned needing some new things. I thought I would help him out.” She shrugged. Not a complete lie. After all, she had made Tom throw out some portion of his underwear.

“Those are cute. I’m grabbing a pair for Ben.” Sophie snagged the underwear.

After they gave the boys enough time to tear down the shed, accounting for the time they would take talking and standing about. They found the two of them sitting on the couch, looking quite pleased with themselves, drinking a beer.

Vivian settled onto Tom’s lap while Sophie sat on the arm next to Ben. She wiggled her ass against Tom’s crotch and he shifted underneath her, pulling her tight against him, nuzzling into her neck. She grabbed the beer from his hand.

“No alcohol for you.” She took a sip. “You are driving.”

“Yes, darling.”

Sophie sighed and smacked Ben’s arm. “Why can’t you be romantic like that?”

“Because I’m married.” Benedict joked.

Sophie threw daggers with her eyes. Benedict grabbed her by the waist and pulled her down. “Ah!!” she screamed as Tom and Vivian giggled.

“How is this for romantic?” Benedict kissed her dramatically.

Sophie righted herself. “Sorry you two had to see that.” She playfully elbowed Benedict. “Sometimes he needs to know who’s the boss.”

“No apologies.” Vivian continued to rub Tom’s neck. “Sometimes you just need to establish your dominance.”

“You’re not going to back me up, mate?” Ben yelled, looking to Tom for support

.

“It’s okay, sunshine.” Vivian whispered so only Tom could hear, before kissing behind his ear.

“Of course, Ben.” Tom straightened up. “I think… all relationships should be based on mutual respect and trust.” His face breaking out into a smug grin.

“Good answer.” Vivian praised, smoothing down his hair.

“I agree.” Sophie piped in.

“Boo.” Benedict pouted with a smile.

“Would you two like to stay for dinner?” Sophie offered.

Tom looked to Vivian to answer. “I have a big week at work, unfortunately, so I must be headed home.” she stated. “Another time, though?”

Sophie and Ben nodded. Vivian stood and Tom tugged at his shorts to hide any potential arousal. “I’ll drive you home, darling.”

“Thank you.”

Vivian gathered up her bags, and they said goodbyes, Sophie promising to text Vivian later in the week. Tom drove away.

“That went well.” Vivian hummed. Tom didn’t say anything. “You did so well.”

The praise softened his mood. “Thank you. I wasn’t sure how to…”

“You did beautifully, my sunshine.” She ruffled his hair. “I will never embarrass you in front of others. Unless you ask me to.” Vivian wiggled her eyebrows.

“Thank you.” He smiled at her.

Tom walked Vivian all the way to her front door. She pulled him in for a kiss, dropping her bags on the floor to grab his ass, pinching lightly. Tom jumped.

“You do have a beautiful ass.” she purred, pulling away and grabbing one of the bags. “Here. For you.” She placed it into Tom’s hands.

“You bought me something?” His eyes wide with surprise. He pulled out some shirts and underwear. “You bought me underwear?!”

She ran her hand up his thigh before swatting his ass. “I expect to see those in my photo tomorrow morning, sunshine.” She kissed his cheek. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

-

Tom woke up in the morning on Monday, painfully hard. He touched the tip of his cock through his underwear, wishing he could jerk off. Tom grabbed his phone and snapped a photo so he could hop into a cold shower. Once he stepped out of the shower, he found Vivian’s text.

Oh my, sunshine. That looks painful. I can’t wait to feel you inside me.

Tom groaned and dug his nails into his thigh. It was going to be a long week.

-

Vivian enjoyed herself a bit too much that week, teasing Tom. But Thursday, Tom’s cock was leaking cum, soaking through his underwear. Vivian would text Tom each time praising him for sending the photo and then letting him know how much she was looking forward to fucking him. And indeed she was. So much so that she moved it up from Saturday to Friday.

She texted him early that morning even before he woke and sent his daily picture.

6 p.m. my place. Wear one of your new shirts and boxer briefs. Bring condoms and a change of clothes. You’re spending the night.

Tom snapped his photo and sent it before seeing Vivian’s text. He fisted the sheets as he read. He rolled onto his stomach, biting his pillow. The pressure of the mattress was comforting on his erection. He rolled his hips and felt some relief. He repeated the action three more times before stopping, not trusting himself to not cum.

The day was blurry and fuzzy on the edges for Tom. He could not concentrate on much more than the TV running in the background. While Vivian plowed through her to-do list at work, reaching a settlement for one of the firm’s biggest clients. She gave herself the rest of the afternoon off. Vivian hurried home to prepare.

She chilled a bottle of white wine in the fridge and pulled two glasses onto the counter. She grabbed a few bottles of water and some chocolate bars and granola bars to place on the nightstand before pulling out just the wrist cuffs. The bed linens were crisp white, and the straps prepared. She slipped into a simple black bra and panties before slipping on a dress, no shoes. Fifteen minutes before six and five minutes before Vivian expected Tom, she poured two glasses of wine, sipping from one. As predicted, five minutes later, there was a knock on the door.

“Sunshine.” she sighed as she opened the door.

Tom’s pupils were already large, and he fidgeted. He carried a small leather bag containing his clothes.

She pulled him into a deep kiss. Tom moaned against her mouth as she tugged on his hair.

“Put your bag in the bedroom. Condoms on the nightstand, please.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He hustled off to the bedroom while she grabbed the wrist cuffs with one finger.

Tom returned and his eyes went straight to the cuffs. He held out his wrists without having to be asked. “Good boy, sunshine.” She buckled them on. “Are they too tight?”

Tom twisted his wrists to test them out. “No, ma’am.”

She kissed his lips lightly and pressed her body against his, his cock already hard. “Some ground rules. No cumming until I say so. No touching my breasts or cunt until I tell you. If you need to stop, use your safe word.”

Tom nodded, licking his lips. “Yes, ma’am.”

She pulled him into the bedroom. “Strip.” Tom frantically pulled off his shirt and pants, folding them neatly. Vivian gestured to a chair, and he placed them there. “Underwear too, sunshine.”

Tom pulled them off and placed them on the chair with the rest of his clothes.

“Hands behind your head. Stand tall, my beautiful sunshine boy.” Tom complied, pulling himself to his full height, chest puffed out.

His cock bobbed as he rocked on his heels. Vivian stood behind him and ran her hands from his shoulders down his back to cup his ass and gave one cheek a playful slap. As she walked her way around him, she grabbed the back of his head and jerked him into a kiss. Tom’s hands waved in the air, not knowing what to do.

“Touch my breasts.”

Tom squeezed, moaning into Vivian’s mouth. “Yes, ma’am.”

She bit down on his lower lip before kissing his neck, sucking hard, leaving a mark.

“Kneel, my sunshine.” Tom lowered to the floor. His head pressed against her legs. She petted the top of his head. “Take off my panties, please.”

Tom’s hands slipped under her dress, finding the waist, and pulled them down Vivian’s legs. She stepped out of them and walked to the end of the bed, sitting down, legs splayed wide. She hooked her finger towards Tom.

“Come here.” He started to stand. “On your knees.”

Tom groaned and walked over on his knees, settling between her legs. His hands hung at his side. Vivian balanced her heels on the frame. “I like how you look between my legs. Use your mouth. Taste me. Make me come.”

“Yes, ma’am.” His excitement was palpable. He reached for her legs. She stopped him with her foot on his forehead.

“No hands.” She pushed her legs wider. Tom hummed as devoured Vivian’s thighs, leaving sloppy open mouth kisses as he traveled up. His nose nudged along her folds. She moaned.

“That’s it, sunshine.” He moved his lips down to her other thigh. Vivian whimpered. “Tease.”

“It will be worth it, ma’am.”

“It better be.”

Tom peeked up and smiled. He licked with the flat of his tongue before swirling it around her clit. Vivian grabbed the back of his head and yanked him forward. “Yes!” she hissed.

Tom continued to suck and lick at her, his cock dripping and hard against his thigh. Vivian’s hand tight like a vise in his hair, yanking his head where she wanted. Tom’s tongue darted inside her entrance, collecting every drop of her arousal, savoring it. When Vivian came, she screamed out, her head falling back, and she pulled hard on Tom’s hair. A shot of pain ran through his scalp. He moaned into her, continuing to lick and slurp. As she came down, Vivian pulled Tom away. His eyes glassy, pupils lust blown. His lips swollen and red, her arousal glistening on him.

“It was worth it, sunshine.”

“yes, ma’am.” Tom remained on his knees, his voice low.

“On the bed on your back, arms out.” She stood and allowed him to crawl into the bed, unable to resist smacking his ass.

“Ow.” he complained as he lied down. Vivian quickly hooked him into the restraints.

“Nice and tight, sunshine? I don’t want you running away.” she play pouted. Tom made a show of flexing and tugging until Vivian ran her nail along his shaft and he let loose a ragged gasp, his hips bucking into her touch. Vivian clicked her tongue. “If you can’t be a good boy, I’ll restrain your legs.”

Tom lowered his legs. “I’ll be good, ma’am. I promise.” he pleaded. “Please, I’ll be good.”

Vivian grabbed the box of condoms and pulled one out. She unwrapped it and rolled it down Tom’s cock. He fought against the restraints at her touch. She climbed back on the bed and Tom’s posture relaxed. Vivian straddled his hips, his cock twitched underneath her. She rocked against the tip, Tom jerked against the restraints and pressed his feet into the mattress. She leaned forward to press her breasts against him. Her hazel eyes staring into Tom’s soul. He whimpered and whined.

“I am going to ride you, sunshine. You are going to tell me when you get close to cumming. You are not to cum without my permission.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Tom nodded. “Please ride me, please.”

She lightly slapped his cheek, Tom groaned. “That’s a good boy.”

Vivian lowered herself onto his cock. He was larger than her previous partners, stretching her walls. She moaned and hissed. Tom’s chest heaved underneath her hand, breaths short and shallow as he struggled to control his release.

“Oh, sunshine. Your cock may be my new favorite part of you.” She rocked up and down on him.

“Please, please. Please.” Tom begged. Her walls tight around him. “I need to—”

“It’s not about you.” Vivian stopped. Tom growled. “It’s about me. And I want to ride you until I come on your cock and then, if you are a good boy, I might let you come.”

“Yes, ma’am. Please ma’am.” he breathed.

Vivian resumed twisting and rocking her hips. Tom’s cock hit all the right spots inside of her and soon she was ready to orgasm. Tom’s face was twisted in pain and exertion. He wanted to please and impress you so much.

“I’m close, sunshine. Are you close?”

“Yes… ma’am….” he gasped.

Vivian thrusted hard down on Tom’s cock and she rubbed her clit and came with a guttural moan. As her walls fluttered and warmth washed over her.

“Come for me, my boy. Come.”

Tom bucked his hips twice and yelled as he came. His vision turned black and then white as he came. Vivian squeezed around him. Tom collapsed underneath her, completely spent, the denial of the week having the desired effect of intensifying his orgasm. His face plastered with a smile, sweat glistening his skin. Tom’s eyes fluttered open and closed.

“Tom?” Vivian asked, soft and sweet. She rolled off of him and undid the restraints and then the cuffs, kissing his wrists. “Sunshine?”

“Hmmm…” Tom hummed. She rubbed his neck.

“Tom… are you okay?”

“Yes, ma’am….” His voice trailed off, dreamy. “How are you?”

“I’m fine. Sit up, sunshine.”

Tom sat up with a groan. Vivian handed him a water bottle and snack. “Here.”

Tom blinked and took a swig of water and a bit of chocolate. “Thank you, ma’am. That was incredible. I’ve never….”

She smoothed down his hair and kissed him soft. “You did beautifully, sunshine.”

His head snapped her. “Are you pleased, ma’am? Satisfied? I can… I can…”

“Shhh…” She kissed him again. “I am very pleased. No complaints. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Tom unrolled the condom and discarded it in the garbage can in the room. He grabbed his leather bag.

“You won’t need that. Put it down, please.”

Tom dropped the bag. “But I… ma’am?”

“Come with me.” Vivian walked to the bathroom. “Shower or bath?”

Tom’s eyes darted between the tub and the glass shower enclosure. “Shower, ma’am.”

She flicked on the shower, waiting for the water to heat up. “If you are cold, you can put on your robe.” Vivian gestured at a hook. Tom’s eyes widened at the obscenely short blue satin robe.

“That’s for me, ma’am? It’s awfully short.” Tom’s hands fidgeted in front of him.

“I know the perfect way to show off that perfect ass.” Vivian grinned as she playfully smacked his ass before pulling him into the shower and a deep passionate kiss.

[iamtaekooked]

If We Knew || Kth

Synopsis: When your boss suggests her son is a good match for you, you had no idea just how right she is. 

(or alternatively the one where you know each other but don’t know that you know each other) 

Genre: romance, lots of fluffy moments and smut (I tried man)

Word count: 32k (longest piece I have ever written) 

A/N: Been a while people! I am excited to get back to writing.This got deleted somehow. But I am reposting this on the request one sweet anon. I hope you like it friend! I really like it and I hope you guys do too. Also shoutout to @mygsii​  for helping me with the smut and to @megahwn​ for being an awesome beta reader! ALSO I JUST FINISHED NURSING SCHOOL. HAD MY LAST DAY OF FINAL PRACTICUM AND I PASSED AND YOUR GIRL IS ONE MORE STEP CLOSER TO BEING AN RN!!!

“Why can’t you do it?” Nina asks as she sits down in front of you, snatching your phone from your hand so you can’t be distracted and avoid her (which is something you desperately want to do). You huff as you regard her silently, communicating to her that if she doesn’t give you your phone back, or better yet stop pestering about the stupid app you will kill her. 

If she was your best friend, it would be one thing. But Nina, unfortunately, is the cousin from hell who is the spawn of the devil. When your aunt told you she would stay with you over the summer you didn’t think she would actually end up staying the whole summer. Or that it would extend beyond the summer and into fall and then next year into winter, then spring until she came one full circle with summer a year later.

“It’s enough that my boss keeps trying to push her son on me. Now you’re doing it too. Let me fucking live” 

“I am not pushing your boss’s son on you. I don’t even know that guy. I am however telling you that you should sign up for this app because it is legit. It’s not your traditional dating app. You meet people and you can either become friends, network with people who have similar interests or go for dating. It’s your choice. Plus there are no conditions on this app. It’s confidential until you feel comfortable enough to reveal yourself. My best friend found the love of her life through it. I swear” she pinches the skin of her throat as a gesture of her oath. 

“I don’t want to date” you deadpan. 

“Only married people are supposed to say that. You” she points to you and shakes her head. “You are not married. You are young, and sexy, and hot and any guy would love to get into your pants” 

“Is that what you think I want?” you fold your elbows atop the table and lean towards her, thoroughly curious about her thought process. 

“I am not saying you want to be fucked y/n” her voice is a little too loud and her words a little too indecent to be uttered in a coffee shop. People within your vicinity turn their heads to look at the two of you. You sheepishly duck your head so as not to feel even more embarrassed than you already do. “All I am saying is, give it a try. You might find a decent guy” 

“Is there really such a thing as a ‘decent guy’ nowadays and that too on this money-grabbing, and bullshit app?” 

She observes you silently. “Tsk Tsk. Is this the moment where you go off about how stupid dating apps are and how they glorify the societal belief that superficial beauty is superior to personality and perpetuating the idea that women are good for fucking, and being used?”

“It’s true. Yet you are sitting here telling me to be a part of the herd. Millennials seriously are stupid” you shake your head. 

“Give me a legit reason other than this righteous bullshit” she folds her hands across her chest. 

“Oh my fucking god. That is my reason. I don’t want to because I hate it”

“Oh my fucking god” she mocks your tone. “That doesn’t count” 

“Nina, I swear to the heavens if I don’t have my phone back in thirty seconds I am going to kill you” 

She waves you off. “You’re too nice for that. Now stop changing the damn subject and tell me you will sign up” 

“Give me my phone back” you bite through your teeth, nostrils flaring.

“Fine” she extends the phone towards you and just as you are about to reach for it she pulls her hand back. “First tell me that you’ll make a profile for this app” 

You roll your eyes. “Yes, you insufferable being. I will make a profile. Now my phone please” 

She eyes you warily for a brief moment as if trying to seek out any signs of you lying. But then she thinks the better of it. “You better do it” she hands you the phone. 

You take it and pocket the device. “I will see you later at home” 

“You better fucking do it y/n” you hear her shrill voice as you exit the coffee shop and you are sure that definitely turned heads. 

When you were seven all you wanted was to be seventeen. When you were seventeen all you wanted was to be an actual adult and not a teenager because you were sick of being labelled rebellious and moody by adults all the time. Little did you know as a seven and seventeen-year-old that being an adult comes with responsibilities--like paying your own phone bill, paying rent for your house, paying hydro bills, taxes and everything else that the government could possibly take from you. 

The only way you can afford to stay afloat and manage to have some money left over to spend is because you work for a boss who is smitten with you. Because she likes you so much your salary package actually comes with a lot of bonus perks. It’s the only reason you still work for her. She’s a really nice lady but the one thing she lacks is self-restraint when it comes to her son and you. 

The first day you started working at the company, you remember how she called you in her office. You thought she would want to talk to you about something work-related but instead, she showed you pictures of her son and gushed about him for an hour. While all you could do was focus on the papers piling on your desk. 

Mrs. K as she likes to be called is surely a very wealthy woman and like a stereotypical wealthy woman, she loves to play matchmaker. She’s been trying to get you and her son together (whose name you always forget because you couldn’t care less)

As soon as you sit down on your desk your phone rings and her name flashes on the tiny screen of the line. With a sigh you pick it up. 

“Y/n dear, I see that you are back from your lunch” 

“Yes. Mrs.K” you smile into the phone. 

“Will you please come to my office for one moment dear?” 

There is a moment of hesitancy as you fall silent. You have an inkling as to what this could be about and you really don’t want to go. But given that she is the woman who pays you and handsomely too, you don’t have much of a choice. 

“I will be there Mrs.K” you try your best to sound as excited by it as possible.

Sometimes you wonder if having been in the business of producing cheesy TV shows for decades has had an impact on the old woman. Or maybe she really is a stereotypical wealthy woman who now that she has made something of herself, doesn’t have any other occupation than seeing her son start his own family. 

Your thoughts provide for a good distraction as you reach her office. You stand tentatively outside the door, wondering if you should knock. But before you have the chance to further dwell on it the door opens to reveal Mrs K. herself. 

“Come on in dear!” she ushers you inside quickly 

“How are you?” you question as she guides you to the very comfortable looking couches on one side of the room. “Are these new?” you point to the posh sofas. 

“Yes, my son bought them for me. I suppose as a present or maybe a bribe. He’s been buying me a lot of things lately” she laughs obnoxiously. 

“A bribe?” You frown in confusion at her remark. 

“Let’s just say that he is not a fan of my imposition on him to settle down. He thinks buying me things would somehow earn him some sliver of freedom from it. But all I want is what is best for him” she sits down opposite you and gestures for you to take a seat as well. 

You respond with an awkward laugh because you don’t know how else to reply. You can understand why he would want to get out of it. “So is he going to earn his sliver of freedom..?” you trail with a tone of anticipation. 

She laughs in a deflective way as she waves you off. “I called you here because I want to ask your honest opinion of my son” 

“With all due respect Mrs. K I don’t know your son so-”

“So get to know him then” she says airily. “He’s coming to visit in a few days. I would love it if you two met. I am not saying this because he’s my son but he’s a catch” she winks which makes you laugh. 

“I-” you begin and stop upon noticing how hopeful and excited she looks. “Sure” 

“Great!” she claps excitedly

The things you have to do to make sure you don’t piss your boss off. 

“You what!?” you look at Nina in disbelief. 

“I signed you up for that app” she replies putting all her focus on applying the nail polish to her toes and ignoring you.

“I told you I didn’t want to!” 

She looks up at you with a straight face. “So, you lied” 

“Yes. Because it’s my choice!” 

She stops her ministrations and places the tiny bottle of nail polish down on the table. “Too bad y/n” she shrugs casually because she probably can’t see the problem with her actions. “You’re all signed up and well I paid for it so you can’t really cancel until a few days” 

“You just wasted your money” you flop into the sofa, limbs falling over the edges. 

Just then your phone vibrates and you pick it  up. It’s a notification from the ‘Swipe’ app. Who even names their app Swipe? 

You’re in the midst of opening your phone when it’s snatched from you by Nina. Again.

“Hey!” you yell in protest. 

“Sorry cous” she shrugs and runs towards the bathroom just as you begin to get up from your comfortable spot. 

“Nina give my phone back or I will kill you!” 

“You’ll thank me for this!”she yells . Then you hear the sound of the door shutting and it prompts you to run after her. 

“Why are you being an ass?” you pound on the door with your fist 

“I am just helping you” comes her relaxed voice. 

“You fucking suck!” you groan and give up hitting your fist against the door because it starts to hurt. 

A second later she is opening the door, waving your phone in her hand with a mischievous grin on her face. “Talk to him” she throws your phone at you and then strides by as if it’s all part of your normal living routine. 

You fumble as you catch your phone. “Talk to who?” you look after her. 

“The hottie” she looks at you over her shoulder and then disappears up the stairs and into her bedroom. 

“What the fuck?” you flip your phone and come across an open chat, a ‘hi’ already sent. 

Your eyes flicker to the tiny profile picture at the top of the screen. You can’t really see the guy’s face because it’s covered by a black hat. You click on it and it enlarges, yet you still can’t make out his face because the image is so pixelated. Despite yourself, you find your curiosity piqued by the mysterious stranger. 

You swipe to his profile which reads: 

Art connoisseur, wine taster, dog lover. Classical music is a comfort for my soul. Grew up in LA but made it on my own in New York. 

Three things strike you as you read his profile: he sounds and (going by his photo) he looks like he’s probably rich. Normal people with regular jobs don’t talk about art and wine like it’s their occupation. Second, he likes classical music and so do you, and he grew up in LA and so did you. Third, even though in none of his pictures his face is visible what does become clear is that he is definitely a man of refined tastes. 

He’s got pictures of himself in various museums with his back facing the camera and The Starry Night and Mona Lisa making an appearance in the background as he presumably admires the beautiful masterpieces. He's got pictures of a dog, you assume his, which is the cutest dog you have laid eyes on. It’s a Black and Tan Pomeranian with the cutest face. 

Your attention is stolen by a notification that appears at the top of your screen. You find yourself directed to the messages and staring back at you is a ‘hey’ by the art connoisseur guy whose username weirdly is ‘icedtea’. What kind of dating app allows usernames like that? 

You blink at your screen and then shut your phone, too tired and exhausted to respond. In fact, you don’t even know if you want to respond or if you have any interest in all of this dating crap. 

It’s at this moment you regret you aren’t seventeen and hence can’t indulge in simple pleasures of life like feelings and dating. Because if you were seventeen you would have talked to him and grabbed the opportunity. Because if you were seventeen you would let yourself be swept off your feet by him or by any other man. Because when you were seventeen you let yourself fall in love. 

But all of it seems like a scam anyway, especially this guy. So maybe it’s not such a bad thing to feel so removed from it. Or maybe that’s just another excuse not to open yourself up to a wider world and explore wider horizons as Nina puts it.

Saturday nights are supposed to be relaxing. They are supposed to be the one day you get to yourself. The one day you can be free of your boss’s incessant nagging about how you and her son would be the perfect couple and how you would have beautiful babies together. It’s the one day you don’t have a shit ton of work to do and you can put your feet up on the table, grab popcorn and watch horror movies all night long. After all there is nothing like horror movies to de-stress from real life horror called ‘work’. It’s a counterintuitive approach and it works. It’s for cathartic purposes which why you do it despite disapproving looks from Nina. 

“You’re so fucking weird cous” she drawls, dipping her hand into the popcorn bowl resting on your lap and taking a handful of it, and spilling some on you. You pick each kernel from your lap and throw it at her. She isn’t fazed by it at all and keeps her eyes glued to the TV. 

“I thought this is fucking weird” you scowl at her and then focus your attention to the movie. 

“I can still enjoy popcorn,” she says in her usual monotone voice. “Besides, I wouldn’t expect anything exciting from you. Like texting the app guy instead of watching a movie” she pops a few kernels in her mouth like a savage, smearing butter all over her mouth. 

Your brows furrow in distaste. “Why can’t you be more… gentle” 

“Because I am masculine and gay” 

You choke which makes her start laughing. “You are!?” you gawk at her. 

“No. Chill. I just like mess you fucking weirdo” a crooked smile forms on her lips. 

“Asshole” you throw a kernel at her which hits her cheek. She is yet unfazed by it. “I think your dick disappeared in the womb” you remark at her tomboyish ways which there is nothing wrong with except she doesn’t have a shred of gracefulness in her despite coming from a long line of ballerina’s. 

“I know” she grabs another handful and shoves it in her mouth. “Anyway” her voice is unclear as she is in the middle of chewing. “The guy from the app. Have you texted him back?” she rubs her hands on her PJ’s. 

You restrain yourself from commenting on her unhygienic ways. “No I haven’t” 

“What the fuck are you waiting for? Christmas? It's been more than 24 hours” she looks at you incredulously, disbelief painted on her face clear as day. 

“He looks sketchy as fuck” you turn to her. 

She guffaws. “Really, cous. You should be the last person passing judgements on men. The last time you were with a guy was when you were seventeen fucking years old” 

“Yeah. So?” you shrug, feeling offended by her remark. 

“So” she turns her body towards you, placing one foot underneath her knee, sitting partially cross legged. “You are highly unqualified to make that statement. Why do you think I picked him? I know my men” 

“It’s a wonder you haven’t died of syphilis” 

She rolls her eyes very dramatically and sighs as if she’s about to give up. But then she settles back and regards you in silence. Before you know what’s happening she is grabbing your phone, and unlocking it. 

“What are you doing?” you extend an arm across her body to reach for your phone. But she stretches her arm further out of your reach. 

“Stop resisting. Trust me you and this guy will hit it off and then you can finally get laid. I can tell he’s a freak in the sheets” she furiously types and waits and then types again. 

Sometimes you can’t believe how she strings words together. The things that come out of her mouth will make her poor mother faint. She has no clue she gave birth to the literal spawn of the devil. 

“Whatever” you sigh and settle back because there is no point in arguing with her. You would rather not waste any more precious time on her and her stupid antics. 

“Here” she throws your phone at you and it lands in your lap. “He’s a fucking catch y/n. Cast your net” she winks. 

You look at your phone to find a picture of the cute Pomerian from before. The caption underneath the picture reads “Yeontan”. To your horror you scroll up to find the cheesiest and most disgusting pick up line in the history of pick up lines. 

It reads: 

Bananamilk: Hey are you art? Because I could look at you all day long ;)))))

Icedtea: Are you religious? Because you are the answer to all my prayers

It's highly mortifying, to say the least. How does she even think of these things? You seriously wonder what goes on in her head. She'll definitely land herself in trouble. But there are more pressing concerns to think of because the art connoisseur guy has sent another picture. You scroll down the chat and find a picture of a dog standing on two paws and the other two held up in air.

Icedtea: can you tell I love my dog?

You have no choice but to text back because Nina is right there and if you don’t she will pester you. 

Bananamilk: I sure can :) He's cute too.

Icedtea: How did you know he's a he?

Bananamilk: lucky guess?

You see the three ellipses showing that he's typing so you quickly turn to Nina, who has already changed the movie to some weird random action flick.

"Hey asshole" you throw a pillow at her.

"Yes, weirdo?" she looks from the TV screen to you.

"Why does this scam of an app not have our real names as our users and why did you not use a proper picture of me?" you frown at her.

"Welcome to the 21st century" she offers sarcastically. Of course, what else can you really expect from her? "It's because they offer that as a choice for people who don’t want to share everything on the first try because it’s not a dating app. I told you you can choose what you wanna do. Also, I used that hiking picture of you because well blonde hair looked better on you and those glasses suit you. I thought you wouldn't like showing your face and me putting your name down, so I chose the next best thing"

"Banana milk?" you raise a brow at her, not even trying to hide the judgemental tone behind that comment.

"Hey! banana milk is the best kind of milk okay? Stop being a judgemental bitch"

You chuckle at her expression which screams she's offended. "Thanks anyway. At least you don't completely lack humanity"

“That’s a step up from calling me spawn of the devil” she chuckles, returning her focus to the TV.

Just then your phone vibrates and for some damn reason, your heart skips a beat. You feel your lips tugging at the corners and hurriedly open the text.

Icedtea: I see you also like classical music.

Bananamilk: I love it

Icedtea: it's so much better than all this garbage people spew out and label as music these days

Bananamilk: Right? I've had so many debates about it with people around me and everyone just calls me insipid and biddy.

Icedtea: I take offense to this. Classical music is anything but boring. What's your favourite piece?

Bananamilk: I have a lot but I love Tchaikovsky'Swan Lake. What about you?

Icedtea: That sure is a classic. I might be cliche but I like Beethoven's 7th symphony.

Bananamilk: That isn’t cliche at all. It sure is one of the best ones out there. You have great taste

Icedtea: Thank you m’lady. What else do you like?

Bananamilk: I firmly hold the belief that I was born in the wrong century. But when in Rome live like Romans right?. So...Netflix. 

Icedtea: I knew that was coming. No conversation is complete without Netflix. It’s the new status quo 

Bananamilk: It is and I HATE the status quo but Netflix is sort of amazing? 

Icedtea: Have you watched The Witcher yet?

Bananamilk: I devoured it when it came out. I would never pass on any Henry Cavill show or movie. The man is ethereal and he should be illegal 

Somehow talking to this stranger isn’t as bad as you thought it would be. He’s actually kind of sweet and you do share interests in common. Maybe Nina-- the spawn of the devil, is actually onto something. Maybe this wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all. Maybe you can pretend to be seventeen for a little while longer. 

Icedtea: i have to agree with you on that 

Bananamilk: Oh? 

Icedtea: Not like that. Like I said in my profile I am an art connoisseur. Would I be wrong in saying that Mr. Henry Cavill is art? I appreciate beauty when I see it. I don’t discriminate or be sexist about it. 

Bananamilk: You’re right he is a piece of art. A goddamn fine piece of art. 

Icedtea: You’re funny 

A laugh escapes past your lips at his compliment making Nina’s attention shift towards you. 

“Careful y/n, don’t fall in love too fast” her voice cuts through and pulls you out of your immersed state. 

You shoot her a disapproving look. “Only you would say something as irrationly idiotic as that” 

“The smile on your face a minute ago said otherwise” she shrugs. 

“You’re hallucinating”

“Sure. Whatever you say” she snorts. 

You both end up softly chuckling to yourself. 

You spend the rest of the night talking to V. It’s what he tells you to call him. At first you found it weird but you felt it too early to probe and pry about his personal life. You figure it must have some meaning for him to ask you to call him that. You end up telling him to call you whatever he wishes and he chooses m’lady, because apparently he is a gentleman and in his words “also born in the wrong century”. 

Iced tea: I hated growing up in LA. Worst place ever. Really blows your self esteem to pieces. That’s why I moved to New York 

Bananamilk: It’s all about validation at that godforsaken place. 

Icedtea: Right? I am so glad I got out of that place.  

Bananamilk: Me too. One more year there and I would have lost it. Btw why is your username icedtea? Just curious 

Icedtea: I love iced tea. That’s why. When I have to go to these company parties and interact with rich white men, I fool them into thinking I am drinking alcohol and joining the status quo. But it’s actually iced tea. It looks like alcohol anyway so why not?

Bananamilk: I like intellectuals. You sir, sure are one 

Icedtea: Thank you m’lady. I suppose you love banana milk?

Bananamilk: Uhhh… i guess you can say so 

You lose track of time as you keep texting back and forth, coming to a point where you are just exchanging puns and one liners but then sleep begins to lay heavy in your eyes and the curtain of your lashes starts closing. The last thing you see is a ‘good night’ text from V with a purple heart. 

You wake up to a text from V. The initial pleasant feeling comes as a surprise even to you because you didn’t expect to feel so -- special, dare anyone say. It turns out to be a gif of the very sexy Henry Cavill wishing you good morning. 

Bananamilk: awww you remembered? 

Icedtea: Ofcourse, I did :) A very good morning to you

Bananamilk: Good morning to you too 

Icedtea: I am actually heading out so won’t be able to talk much until I get there

Bananamilk: me neither. I am sure a huge pile of work is waiting for me at work

You drag yourself out of the bed, feeling slightly disappointed and dreadful for two reasons. One that you have to go to the doctor. Second, you won’t get much chance to talk to this very pleasing stranger you have actually started to take a liking to. It’s only because you have things in common with him that you feel drawn to him. 

Or that’s what gives you comfort when your mind reminds you there is something else happening too— something a little uncomfortable called ‘feelings’

But you’re dead set on believing that it’s because you share commonalities. 

At least that’s what you tell yourself in moments when your mind isn’t preoccupied by anything and he pops into your head. 

Like when you’re going through paperwork, and nothing particularly is keeping you engaged, conversations with him flash in your head. In particular, the fluttery feeling that rose to your chest yesterday morning when you saw his username appear on your screen and then a very sweet good morning text. 

You have never in twenty whole three years of your life received good morning texts. Not even from Woohyun who you were with when you were seventeen. Up until recently you were sure he was your one true love. But somehow that perception is beginning to change. Because a man named V who resides in the Apple city is slowly but surely showing you what a man actually interested in you will do. 

So is it really your fault that your chest feels light, your stomach feels tight when you think of him? Is it really your fault that you are in such a good mood? So much so, that when Nina flings the door and walks into your office unannounced you greet her with a smile instead of having a full blown dramatic altercation.

“Woah” she stops in her tracks when she notices your smile. “Where the fuck is y.n?” 

“Uhhhh….” you put the papers down. “Right here” you point to yourself. 

“No that’s not her” she deadpans. “Did she finally die?”

“Wow” you huff. “Anyway, did you get bored of hell?” 

“Hell doesn’t need me right now” she waves you off. You love how you jab at each other but never take it seriously. That’s what you love about her. Ofcourse, you don’t hate her but somehow taking digs at each other has just become the norm. Multiple times people have asked you if you guys really hate each other, and both of you reply positively to those claims, because they don’t need to know that you truly do like each other. “I am here to inquire about you and lover boy” 

“L-Lover boy?” your brows furrow. “I don’t even know if it’s a boy. For all I know its a girl and I am falling for a girl” 

“And that’s a problem because…?” she trails off, swivelling in the chair in front of you. 

“There is nothing wrong with being gay. But I just imagine him as a guy and well I am not really.. You know?” 

“I digress. I’ve seen your texts. He’s definitely a guy and charming at that” 

“How the fuck did you see my texts?” you gape at her, unable to believe that she’s actually figured out the password to-- but then you remember she’s opened it up twice when she was forcefully trying to set up your profile and get you to talk to V. How this never occurred to you, you don’t know. 

“I sneaked into your room at like 5 am, opened it up and read your texts” she says matter-of-factly. 

“Is there ever a wrong thing you don’t involve yourself in?”

“Nope” she shakes her head. “You’re going off track, cousin. Tell me the deets” 

“There are no deets. Why are you asking? You read the texts anyway” you shake your head at her 

“ Not all of them. I have a conscience you know?”

“The Devil has no conscience” you mumble under your breath. “He sent me a good morning text with a Henry Cavill gif captioned good morning” 

Her eyes widen, brows risen. “A guy who doesn’t find your Henry Cavill obsession creepy? Told you he’s a fucking catch” 

You chuckle “How the hell did you find my office?” 

“Simple. I asked around” she purses her lips in a smile. 

“You got your so called deets. Now get out” you offer a sarcastic smile before lowering your head and busying yourself in analyzing the reports in front of you. 

She gasps. “Wow bitch. So much for helping you” she dramatically places a hand on her chest feigning hurt. 

“Get out, asshole” you say in a sing song voice completely avoiding her. 

“I am gonna steal this guy from you” she gives you a dirty look. “Just you watch” 

“He likes classical music” you quip, keeping your eyes focused on the papers in front of you. 

Another gasp fills the air. “Abomination. Nevermind you keep him to yourself. We don’t need that kind of atrocity in the world” 

“Bye” you look up from your desk and flash her a quick smile. 

“Have a horrible day cousin” she waves as she walks away

“Likewise cousin” 

Your phone vibrates and immediately you drop the papers on your desk and reach for it, all preoccupation with work forgotten in a moment. 

Icedtea: Save me 

Bananamilk: you’re supposed to be my knight in shining armour. 

Icedtea: Welcome to the 21st century. 

Bananamilk: People keep telling me that :| Why do you need saving? 

Icedtea: I am flying out to meet my mother today and let's just say she’s a handful

Bananamilk: that’s mothers for you. But then what would we do without them 

Icedtea: thats true. But my mother is on a whole other level. 

Bananamilk: everyone thinks that. I am sure you can handle yourself. You are a big boy. 

Icedtea: how reassuring. 

Bananamilk: I wish I could offer more but sometimes you just have to suck it up. 

Icedtea: I suck at sucking it up

It makes you chuckle. You shake your head at the phone as your fingers furiously type. 

Bananamilk: Do you trust me?

Iced tea: You use big words 

Bananamilk: If you trust me, even just a teeny tiny bit then trust that you will be okay.

Icedtea: Six-ish hours in an airplane. That should be fun

Bananamilk: You will be fine. 

Icedtea: if you say so m’lady. Anyway, I gotta catch my flight. I will talk to you later. Promise. 

Bananamilk: Have a safe flight V :) 

Icedtea: See ya later alligator ;) 

You turn off your phone and lower your head resting it atop your arms on your desk. Somehow you feel giddy. You feel warmth coursing through you, yet a sudden shiver passes through your body. The conversation repeats in your head and you wonder about the face that hides behind the other side of the screen. What does he actually look like? It’s hard when you don’t know, to imagine how he smiles, what he looks like when he laughs, when he frowns. All the emotions he evokes in you, you want to know what they look like on him. 

It’s a strange feeling to behold these feelings, to have them flow through you when you don’t even know who it is on the other side. In a way it’s a recipe for disaster because things like this don’t end well for most people. Yet here you are stuck in a very surreal situation, one you never thought you would find yourself in. 

The rest of the day after your conversation with V, passes by very quickly. It would have dragged on, had it not been for the mood he had managed to put you in. After a while, even the amount of paperwork on your desk couldn’t deter and terrify you. If anything, being able to talk to him after work motivated you to work faster. And working actually distracted you from him which is a good thing because you do need to get work done. So in a way, it worked out either way. 

The day surprisingly ends with Mrs.K not calling you into her office even once. You would feel thankful anytime for this, but especially this particular day you feel grateful because it surely would have put a small damper on your mood. You gather your belongings and head out, glancing at your phone here and there. Has he reached safely? That is the one thought that occupies your head. 

He hasn’t texted you so you think he’s either not landed yet, or he’s busy. You didn’t want to press him for details. Although you do feel like you are at that friendship stage, it only feels like the beginning. So you want to still maintain boundaries as best you can. Just because it’s an online thing doesn’t mean boundaries don’t exist-- a fact many people fail to grasp. 

You mindlessly reach the lobby without even realizing it. You’re stepping out of the elevators when you see Mrs K. walking with a man, her hand hooked in the crook of his elbow. By the looks of it, he appears to be young. He’s definitely tall- close to six feet probably. Something falls out of his pocket as you observe them. You try to call out but decide it’s better to just pick it up and give it to him. 

You jog to where the object has dropped and as you draw closer you realize it’s a piece of paper. You don’t mean to pry but as you pick it up the paper slightly unfolds and curiosity ends up getting the best of you. It’s not like you opened it. It unfolded itself, so you take it upon yourself to straighten out the rest. It’s a beautiful sketch of a girl. She looks like she’s in her twenties. The way he drew her eyes makes it look like she’s holding stars behind them and gives the illusion of them sparkling. Must be someone he likes, or someone he admires. You quickly fold it back, not wanting to further invade the stranger’s privacy. 

“Excuse me!” you call out. 

Mrs. K turns around first and then the young man next to her does the same. His eyes land right on you and feeling his gaze, your eyes flicker from Mrs K. to him. You were right. He is young, and extremely handsome. He’s got permed hair that falls as bangs on his forehead. His black hair is a little grown out as it forms a nape on his neck like a mullet. For a brief second you want to run your hand through his head. He’s even wearing a suit so you imagine he might be a corporate guy. It seems to be perfectly tailored to him, the jacket flaring slightly just above his waist and the pants accentuating his long lean legs. 

Shaking away the thoughts, you approach them. “You dropped this” hand outstretched. You hold out the drawing to him. 

“Thank you” comes his deep voice. It doesn’t match very well with his face because he looks like someone who would have a softer voice. 

“No problem” you smile and he takes the paper from your hand, his fingers gently grazing yours as he does so, and a shiver runs down your spine at the contact. You ignore the sensation and turn to Mrs.K. “Hello Mrs. K.” you greet her holding onto your smile. 

“Y/n! Lovely that we ran into you here.” 

“Y/n?” the young man looks at Mrs. K and then at you with a raised brow

“This is the girl I have been telling you about all along” she looks giddly between you and him. “Y/n this is my son” he unhooks her arm from his elbow and he politely puts his hands together in front of himself. 

Oh so this is him. 

He first offers you a small nod and then extends his hand. “I am Kim Taehyung” 

You look between the mother and son, eyes stopping on the man you know as Taehyung.His name does ring a bell given the countless times it’s been mentioned to you.  “Nice to meet you Taehyung. I am y/n” you shake his hand which is warm and just firm enough. 

“Pleasure is mine. I have heard a lot about you” he smiles in that knowing way, a glint of recognition of his mother’s words reflecting in his eyes. He’s surely referring to the tons of times Mrs K. would’ve mentioned you as a potential romantic partner.  

“I have heard tons about you too” your lips curve up in an unintentional smile as his eyes bore into yours. There is a moment of silence as both of you quietly look at each other until Mrs. K clears her throat and you both look away. 

“My mother seems to be a fan of yours. That’s a hard feat. I haven’t been able to do that in twenty-five years of my life” his lips split in a mischievous smile which is warm and you feel yourself falling into it as well. 

“She adores you” you look between Mrs K. and him. 

“You’re just saying that because she’s right here and you can’t out her because she’s your boss. Be honest” he retorts in a playful tone.

Mrs Kim. gently slaps him across the shoulder. “Stop it. You’re embarrassing me” 

You chuckle at the cuteness that is Mrs K, and even her son Kim Taehyung. 

“I am sorry if I interrupted you. I only wanted to give you the paper. It fell out of your pocket” you look at Taehyung and then at Mrs. K feeling a little guilty about imposing on their time.

“Oh you stop it too y/n” Mrs.K waves you off.  “I am very glad you bumped into us like this. Now I have somewhere very important to be” she looks at her watch. “Taehyung be the gentleman that I raised you to be and drop y/n off at home” 

“No-” you open your mouth in protest but Mrs. K is already walking the opposite way towards the doors, albeit very hurriedly. Taehyung turns around to watch his mother amble away, leaving him and you alone. That was her intention the moment you stepped into the scene. 

He turns back around to face you. “She’s not very subtle about it is she?” and then he breaks out into a grin. 

“I am sorry to say this. But no” you grimace slightly. 

“It’s quite alright. I know she can be a handful” 

You remember how V called his mother a handful too and chuckle. 

“What is it?” his brows knit together in confusion. 

“It’s just that someone said that to me this morning. But sometimes you have to suck it up” your eyes lock on Taehyung’s. 

He laughs lightly too. “Funny. Someone said that to me this morning”

“That is…” you pause to search for the right word. “A little bit strange” 

“Well, stranger things have happened miss y/n” 

Little did you know both know he was right. Among the many strange that could happen, one of them was happening to you both and neither of you were aware of it. 

Taehyung being the filial son to his mother, decides to drive you home despite your protestation. He wouldn’t take no for an answer so despite yourself you agree to let him give you a ride. He’s actually as nice as his mother had said he is, and now you realize she wasn’t just saying that because he is her son. He really does have a warm personality, and you feel drawn to him. You can’t pinpoint it exactly to one thing because it’s several reasons—it’s the way he conducts himself, the way he speaks with authority yet politeness, the way he is so grounded and humble-- all of it makes him appealing. 

Even though he hails from a super rich family, drives an expensive Maybach which is worth more than your three year salary combined, and wears a suit that you can’t even think of buying-- he’s so humble. He isn’t flashy about it. He hasn’t once flexed his wealth or brought up his family with you. 

“I really want to apologize for my mother” he glances at you quickly before focusing back on the road. 

“It’s alright. You don’t have to talk so formally by the way” you try your best to put him at ease because since the moment you have met him he has been nothing but respectful. 

“Okay” he quips. “But I really am sorry. I know she can be a little bit too imposing sometimes” 

“She can. But I understand the reason. You’re her only son and she wants the best or you” 

You can feel his eyes on you which makes you turn to him. “What is it?” you question. 

He’s silent as he studies you, gaze lingering for a second longer and then he shifts his eyes to the road. “You’re not at all like my mother described you” 

“Really?” 

He nods. “You’re better” he glances at you from the corners of his eyes.

Your heart skips a beat at hearing him say that. “I am flattered. I always thought she was building you up and that you weren’t actually what she made you out to be” 

“And...?” he trails off as he quickly does a shoulder check and changes lanes. 

You let the silence build for a moment before speaking. “You’ve exceeded my expectations” a slow smile appears on your lips.You watch as he turns to you briefly and his mouth parts into a small smile as well. 

Silence falls over you. You look out of the window and watch as the city passes you by with its tall buildings, skyscrapers and large mountains. You rest your head against the headrest and fumble with your fingers absentmindedly, absorbing yourself into the passing landscape. Out of the corner of your eyes you notice Taehyung loosening his tie, an action that ends up making you smile to yourself-- for what reason, you don’t know. You have known him for ten minutes and he’s already having an effect on you. 

“Music?” his voice cuts through the heavy silence, which comes as welcomed relief. 

“Sure” you nod. 

A second later music drifts through the speakers. The melody is familiar but because the volume is turned low, you can’t make it out. 

“Can I turn it up if you don’t mind?” 

“Please go ahead” he motions to the navigation system and you turn the dial. 

You wait for a moment as you take in the melody. “Is this Claire de Lune?” 

“You know it?” he looks at you from the periphery of his vision, slightly turning his head towards you. 

“Who doesn’t?” you look at him as if it’s the most obvious thing that everyone knows what Claire de Lune is. “Actually I take it back” 

He laughs and turns the volume lower so you can talk. “You are the second person I know who is into classical music. I think it’s my lucky week or something” 

Your lips teeter in a smile. “Who is the first person?” 

He doesn’t respond immediately and you notice him blinking rapidly as if he’s trying to contemplate what to say. “Someone I know” he says softly 

“Well now you know two people who share your interest” 

“That I do” he grins at you like a child does when they get their favorite toy or candy. 

It’s silent again until your stomach grumbles, catching Taehyung’s attention. “Someone’s hungry” 

Your cheeks flush in embarrassment, and the overall result is you lowering your head and tightening your arms around your torso.  “I had a lot of paperwork to look over so I didn’t take lunch” 

“I know a good place, if you want to grab a bite?” 

You ponder his offer. “I don’t think you’re a serial killer so I think it’s safe to go with you” 

A soft chuckle falls from his lips at your joke which suddenly makes a feeling of pride rise in your chest. “I listen to classical music” he wags his brows at you playfully. “Most definitive sign of a serial killer” 

“I have pepper spray so I’ll be okay” you say. 

It comes out more matter of factly which makes him do a double take “Wait, do you really have pepper spray?” a slight look of confusion presents on his face as his brows crinkle. 

“No” you laugh and shake your head. “I am joking” 

“Sense of humor. I like it” he nods slowly as if he’s impressed. 

“Well I could say the same for you” 

By the time you reach the place Taehyung wanted to bring you to, the sun has already set behind the mountains in the distance. The sky welcomes the dusk by softly melting from blue to black and a slight chill settles into the air. 

While you fumble with the belt, Taehyung much to your surprise gets out of the car. You follow his movements and watch him coming around to your side and open the door for you. 

You still can’t unbuckle your seatbelt. Fancy cars and their fancy seatbelts, you think. It shouldn’t have to be so hard but when something costs a fortune obviously there are going to things beyond the capacity of a common person like this seatbelt from hell. 

“May I?” Taehyung questions as he holds the door open and points to the seatbelt. 

“Thank you” you stop struggling with it and pull your hands back in your lap. 

“Sorry” he mumbles, ducking his head before he reaches across you and unbuckles it for you with a single click. He’s slowly pulling back when he stops, face inches away from yours, his warm breath fanning your face. His gaze lingers on you for a few seconds before he steps back and offers you his hand. You gratefully take it and with his help lift yourself up and out of the car. 

Thank you again” you say softly and he nods. 

He nods. “There’s something…” he reaches up and presses a finger to your cheek. He pulls it back and shows it to you. “Make a wish” he whispers. 

“W-what?” you whisper back in an entranced state. 

“You’re supposed to make a wish when a lash falls on your cheek” he says gently, reaching down to grab one of your hands. He then places it on the back of your hand. The spot he had touched makes your skin tingle. 

He’s holding your entire attention without even trying. Your mind is blank, and your eyes refuse to leave his gaze. It’s like he’s bewitched you, and you will be putty in his hands if he wished it this second. You would forget your inhibitions if he told you to. You’d give into whatever he tells you to if it means he’ll continue to look at you like he can’t see anything else around him. 

“Wish miss y/n” he motions to your hand as a reminder.

“I don’t know what to wish for” your voice comes out just a touch shy of a whisper. 

“Anything” his mouth parts in that heartbreakingly beautiful smile. “Whatever you want, it’s yours to wish for” 

With those simple words melting into your mind like a mantra, you close your eyes and wish with your entire being. You open your eyes to find him looking at you with that soft look in his eyes. 

“What did you wish for?” he asks

“I don’t wish and tell” you joke 

He laughs. “Alright. Fair enough. Shall we go inside?” he offers his arm. 

“I am not sure you’re real” you chuckle hooking your hand in his elbow. 

“I am very real” he leans down towards you. “You can check” he turns his cheek in your direction for you to satisfy your curiosity. 

You poke his cheek, a bit harder than you’re meant to just to tease him. “Real for sure” 

“That’s gonna bruise” his lip juts in a pout as he straightens up. “Like my dear mother said before, she raised me to be a gentleman” 

“You should have been born like ten decades earlier” you tease. 

“I know. I was born in the wrong century” he begins walking again with you in tow. 

You walk across the parking lot and arrive at  the restaurant. To your surprise it isn’t an expensive place you had been expecting. It’s a mid range restaurant, the perfect combination of affordable and fancy. You can eat what you want without having to worry about your bank balance but still feel bougie while doing so. 

There is no line up but from the large windows you can see the whole restaurant is full, a good indication that the food must be delicious. Just the thought makes your mouth water. Taehyung holds the door open for you and you step inside. You wait for him and then both of you proceed further where you are greeted by the hostess.

“Your name please Sir?” she asks graciously 

“Kim Taehyung” he replies with a thin lipped smile 

“Right this way Mr. and Mrs.Kim” she says, and you open your mouth to protest but Taehyung vigorously shakes his head. Confusedly you follow behind him,  hand still resting in the crook of his elbow. The hostess leads you to a table in a quiet corner for which you feel thankful. 

She lays down your menus on the table and then saunters off. Taehyung unwraps your hand from his arm gently and is quick to pull back a chair. “Here wifey” he says with a wink. 

“Excuse me?” you try to hold back your laugh. 

“You’re my wife so this is the least I can do for you” he grins from ear to ear

You shake your head and comply. Once you’re seated he pushes the chair in and then rounds the table to sit in front of you. 

“We’ve only known each other for” you look at your watch and then up at him. “Thirty minutes and now I am your wife?” 

“Come on. You might as well be because my dear mother is hell bent on you and I getting together” he says with a playful smile. 

“Hmm” you lean back against your chair as you scrutinize him. “Jokes aside. What’s your honest opinion on that?” somehow the curiosity ends up getting the better of you. You weren’t going to ask him but since he brought it up you really did want to know what he thought about all of it because eventually one day you would have had to meet him anyway. You already told Mrs.K you would so now is better than later. 

“Honestly? I don’t know what I think about the prospect of us” 

You feel a slight pang rise in your chest at his remark. “Is there someone else?” 

“Ummm” his lip protrudes in a pout as he thinks. “Not really” 

“It’s alright you can tell me” you prompt, genuinely interested. But underneath all of that is somehow a slight twinge of disappointment that settles in your chest.

“I met her online” he quips, looking away sheepishly. “But it’s just friendship at this point. Nothing more” 

“Never know Mr.Kim. It might turn into something more” 

“Eh” he shrugs. “Mrs. Kim” he adds with a goofy grin. “I like how it sounds” 

“What?” 

“Mr. and Mrs.Kim. It’s pleasant to hear” 

“Don’t get hung up on it” you chuckle. 

“Don’t break my heart okay?” 

“You are something else Kim Taehyung” you shake your head at him with a smile

You spend the rest of the time at the restaurant ordering food, eating and talking. Being around him is like comfort. It feels like coming home after a long hard day at work and relaxing. Being around him is also intoxicating because he feels a little bit like a drug— addicting and euphoric. 

You find out that you and him share not only love for classical music but also for reading. He’s apparently very big on classics like 1984 and Brave New World. Brave New World was the first novel you ever read and it captivated you in a way nothing has captured your attention— until V and Taehyung. 

“1984 was so amazing. It’s Orwell’s masterpiece” his voice sounds distant in your ears.

“Hmm?” you blink away your thoughts focusing back on him, the feeling of nervousness slowly pooling in your stomach. 

“What’s on your mind?” he drops the fork he’s holding, and focuses all his attention on you as he stares at you intently.

“Nothing. I just zoned out” you supply with a pursed smile. 

“I see why my mother likes you” 

“Why?” 

“You have a way of making people curious. I look at you and I think she’s an open book. But then I talk to you and you’re a complete mystery” his eyes crinkle at the corners as he very imperceptibly narrows his eyes in that intrigued kind of way. 

“Trust me. I am no mystery. I lay it all out there for people to see because I can’t do mystery”

“Are you sure y/n?” your name falls softly through his lips. “Because I feel like I know you, yet I don’t” 

You chuckle and shake your head. “What do you want to know?” 

“What would you be comfortable sharing?” 

He couldn’t get any more perfect could he? 

Never before has anyone in your life ever asked you that. People always list out things they would like to know. They never ask for permission or even consider if what they want to know is something you’re okay talking about. 

“I-”

“Are you enjoying everything Mr. and Mrs. Kim?” The hostess comes by your table. 

“Actually the thing is we’re-”

“Everything is delicious. Thank you” Taehyung replies with a warm smile. 

“Enjoy” she says and then strides away to another table. 

Once she leaves you turn to him. “You are enjoying this aren’t you? This whole Mr. and Mrs. Kim thing” 

“Oh come on. Don’t be a joy killer. I told you I love how it sounds. And I like being Mr. Kim” he shrugs. 

“But you’re Mr. Kim anyway” you remind him. 

“Yeah. But the context is different. I am the ‘married’ Mr. Kim right now.” he says it so lightly it almost makes you choke. You don’t even think he realizes how that sounds. 

“Get married and then you’ll always be the married Mr. Kim.” you tease despite feeling like it’s a little too flirty for the first meeting. You take a sip of water feeling your throat drying by the second. 

“Then marry me y/n” 

You choke on the water “W-what?” a cough passes through your chest and out. 

He silently observes the shocked expression on your face, a smile teetering at the edge of his lips. “I am kidding.” he replies a moment later. 

“Good. I thought you were serious for a second” you shake your head at him grabbing a napkin to wipe your mouth. 

He grins goofily at you. “Are you okay though?” 

“No thanks to you” you reach for the glass of water and chug it.

After dinner Taehyung suggests dessert. It turns out you both share an undying love for shaved ice. Taehyung even pulls out pictures of him in fancy shaved ice places in New York to prove to you he’s serious. In turn you show him a list of shaved ice you have already tried and how you’ve ranked them from best to worst. 

“No way. You think strawberry is the worst flavor?” he looks at you, disbelief and incredible disappointment painted altogether on his face. 

“I am sorry. I think it is. But mango, now that’s a great shaved ice flavor. Strawberry is too light for me”

“Wow. I am thoroughly offended” he huffs and pouts like a child. 

“I didn’t mean to offend you. I am just being honest” you pat him on the back with mock sympathy.

“Well your honesty hurts. Strawberries are the best thing in the world” he continues to pout as you walk to the shaved ice place

“Do you feel this strongly about anything else in your life Taehyung?” 

“No. My grandparents own a strawberry farm and I grew up eating strawberries. So, I am highly biased towards them” 

You nod in understanding because it makes sense why he would violently hold so much love for strawberries. “Mrs.K never mentioned that” 

“I think she’s embarrassed by it,” he shrugs. “Or maybe it just never came up” 

You round the corner and arrive in front of the shaved ice shop. Taehyung once again opens the door for you. 

“You have to stop doing this” you mumble as you step in first. 

“Why?” his brows crinkle as he enters after you, gently placing a hand on the small of your back to guide you through the sea of people

“People will think we are actually together” 

“So?” he shrugs like he couldn’t care less. “I thought you didn’t care what people think” 

You regard him as you stand in line to order, forced to think about your perception. “Actually. Yeah I don’t care” you say firmly because it shouldn’t matter what people think. 

“I don’t see the point of living my life on others’ terms” he says with a serious face. 

“That’s fair” you reply. He’s right. You shouldn’t care what people think and the confidence with which he says it makes you question all the times in your life you have let others get to you. 

“So” he turns to look at the giant board on the wall behind the cash register displaying the different flavours. “I assume it’s Tropical Mango shaved ice for you” 

You pout as you think. “You know what, I’ll give the strawberry a try”

His eyes widen allowing a sparkle to reflect in his eyes. “Really?” 

You nod. In response his smile grows wider and wider until he’s positively beaming. Your turn to order arrives fairly quickly and Taehyung places the order. You don’t pay attention though because you are enraptured by the way light reflects on his face and makes his sun kissed skin look even more golden. You get entrapped by his voice which sends shivers down your spine yet is somehow comforting.

Of course when you say you can split the bill he violently shakes his head and refuses to let you pay. You take your number and find a seat at the corner after he ushers you the table and excuses himself to use the washroom. You pull out your phone now that you have some time and send a text to V. He’s been in the back of your mind all day long. 

Bananamilk: Hey V, did you reach safely? 

Almost instantly you receive a reply which makes your heart pound hard against your chest.. 

Icedtea: Yes I did. I am so sorry I couldn’t message earlier. My mom kind of ditched me. But I made a new friend because of it! 

A smile unconsciously squeezes its way onto your lips despite your efforts not to.

Bananamilk: that’s great! I hope you’re having fun 

Icedtea: I am. She’s great 😊 

Bananamilk: Oh it’s a girl 

Even your message itself sounds jealous of this girl. He’ll obviously catch it. 

Icedtea: Is someone jealous? 

Bananamilk: I am not jealous. I just made a comment

Icedtea: Sure. Whatever you say m’lady ;)

Bananamilk: V! I am not jealous. I am happy you made a new friend. I also made a new friend and he’s awesome. 

Icedtea: 🤔 is he more handsome than I am? 

Bananamilk: I don’t even know what you look like

Icedtea: yes you do 

Bananamilk: can’t really see your face in the pictures 

Icedtea: you’ll see it soon enough. One day. 

Bananamilk: if your face is anything like your personality, I am sure you are beautiful 

Icedtea: you really know how to stroke a mans’ ego

Bananamilk: don’t let it get to you

Icedtea: Don’t change the subject m’lady. 

Bananamilk: you changed the subject V

Icedtea: are you having a good time with your new friend? 

Bananamilk: he’s a really nice guy. You know strangely enough he reminds me of you

Icedtea: Oh really? That’s good then. At least you will remember me when you’re with him. Works for me! 

Bananamilk: shut up. 

Icedtea: I am sure you’re blushing right now

He’s not wrong. A soft heat starts building under your cheeks and then it violently flares into a red that covers your face. You can feel the heat settling in, emanating from your skin. 

Bananamilk: I’ll have to remind myself to not pay you compliments again 

Icedtea: That just tells me you’re actually blushing. 

Bananamilk: Oh god. Why are you so fixated on it? 

Icedtea: I like the idea of you blushing because of me 

Bananamilk: 🙄

Icedtea: How cute 

Bananamilk: Aren’t you supposed to be with your friend? Emphasis on the friend 

Icedtea: I knew you were jealous! But yes she’s waiting for me so I should probably go. Talk to you later?

Bananamilk: If you stop being weird I’ll talk to you 

Icedtea: Haha okay. I’ll talk to you later m’lady 🤗

Bananamilk: Talk to you later V 🤗

With that last text sent you already feel the anticipation building for when you get to talk to him next. It baffles you as the recognition crosses your mind and you become aware of your own feelings. 

Before you can further dwell on it Kim Taehyung approaches your table and takes the seat in front of you. 

“You’re red like a tomato” he remarks, a curious look crossing his face. 

“I am what?” you touch your cheeks. 

“Red. Completely and absolutely red” he repeats. 

“I just feel like it’s hot in here” you fan your face avoiding his gaze. 

“Like I said you’re a complete mystery” he replies. You assume because of the lack of context he finds you are hiding something which seems fair enough. 

“About that” you stop your ministrations and find the courage to look at him. “Ask me whatever you like” 

“That’s very vague” 

“Fine. I’ll tell you myself. I grew up in LA. Lived there until two years ago and then moved here to San Francisco. Then somehow by luck I ended up getting a job at Misim and now I am here, sitting in front of you” 

“Shut up” his jaw drops. “You grew up in LA too?” 

“You grew up in LA?” you repeat back, feeling curious. 

“I did. I lived there until about eighteen and then we moved here to San Fran. My mom then founded Misim and she initially wanted me to run the company but I have no interest in that side of things. So I moved to New York after high school and got a full scholarship to Columbia” he grabs a glass and pours water and slides it towards you and then pours himself one and takes a sip. 

“ You went to Columbia?” you gawk at him. 

“That hard to believe huh?” he chuckles 

“No. It’s not that. I don’t know anyone who went there and that too on full scholarship. What did you study at Columbia?” 

“Business marketing” he quips, taking another sip of water. 

“Wow” you nod slowly, filled with acknowledgement that he’s not only got beauty but he’s also got the brains. More than that though it’s the recognition that he’s a whole package which is slowly settling its roots in you. He’s got the personality to go with it. It’s the awareness that the more you talk to him the more he piques your interest and the more you want to know. “Why business marketing?” 

“I am a nerd that’s why” his lips flutter open ever so softly in a smile. 

“A self-proclaimed nerd. Wow. I like it. What else makes you a nerd?” you chuckle. 

“I love art, travelling, learning about anything I can get my hands on. If you think about it, we can learn from anyone and anything. You just have to have that mindset” 

“Where have you travelled to?” 

“I went to Bali a few months ago. Before that I was in Italy and then Peru and right after highschool I went to Morocco” 

“That’s amazing! I’ve always wanted to travel” you say, feeling slightly disappointed at not having had the opportunity to go where you have always wanted to. 

“I sense a ‘but’ in there somewhere” 

“But” you sigh. “I never had the time. Not to mention it’s an expensive habit” 

“I’ll take you. Wherever you want to go” he replies

“You’ll take me?” you narrow your eyes at him warily. 

“I will” he shrugs. 

“You don’t even know me” 

“Something tells me miss y/n, we’ll be seeing each other a lot. So I’ll get to know you and then I’ll take you wherever you want to go”

“What gives you that idea?” you lean in slightly intrigued by his confidence. 

“What would you say if I asked you right now that there is somewhere I want to take you and that if you’re free next weekend I would love to show you” he asks exuding a kind of confidence you have never felt yourself subjected to before. 

Would you say no? No. 

Will you take the time to pretend like you’re thinking so you don’t come off as eager? Yes. 

So after a moment of acting like you’re mulling it over, you reply. “I would say that I would love to go with you next Saturday” 

“See?I told you we will be seeing each other”

“How did you know I would say yes? You wouldn’t have been that confident if you didn’t know Kim Taehyung” 

“Because there’s something here even though I don’t know about the prospect of us” he points between you and him. “I know you feel it too” 

“Hmm” you nod, unable to deny that there is something between the two of you and also unable to form words because you can’t get into details of it. 

“Here’s your half mango and half strawberry shaved ice” you are distracted by the girl who had taken your order. She sets the huge bowl down, one side furiously pink and filled with strawberries while the other a deep yellow and topped with mangoes. 

“You ordered half and half?” you blink at Taehyung. It leaves you feeling a little touched because you find the gesture considerate. You haven’t encountered people in your life who are thoughtful like he is. 

This is when it dawns on you— a simple yet complex realization. You like V and you are attracted to Taehyung. Two days ago you didn’t have time nor the intention of getting involved in the matters of the heart. Yet two days later you are sitting in front of a man that makes you feel like you matter even though you have known him for less than an hour. And here you are also waiting for texts from a guy who is faceless yet he makes you feel like you could float on clouds. 

It’s funny how it’s so easy to catch feelings. One look, one word, a simple action, one kind gesture can kickstart the hurricane of absolutely confusing emotions.

You’re thoroughly fucked aren’t you? 

“I thought if you were willing to forgo your hatred for strawberries, which I still take offense to by the way. I thought the least I could do was order your favorite and try it myself too” he offers you a spoon. 

You let your gaze linger a little bit longer on his sparkling eyes, before you take the spoon from him and dig in. You take a bite and he watches in anticipation as you slowly savour the flavour. 

“The verdict is….” he trails off. 

Your lips protrude in a pout. “Well… it’s not as bad as I previously said” 

“Yes!” he curls his fingers into his a fist and fist bumps the air. “So does it move up the list?” he wags his brows playfully. 

“One spot” you scoop some shaved ice in your mouth. 

“That’s an improvement.” he laughs softly and takes a bite of the mango flavour on his side. 

You watch as he slowly nods. You feel nervous because you want him to like it. He still hasn’t said a word and he’s sitting there with a kind of dazed look on his face. 

“Taehyung?” you wave your hand in front of his face. “Are you okay?” 

He sort of shudders and blinks up at you. “Brain freeze I think” 

You chuckle at the cuteness that is Kim Taehyung. When he’s sitting this close to you in good lighting you really do get to take a good look at him. His features are very soft-- his eyes the softest of them all. His cheeks are full and you just wish you could squeeze them. 

He has a warm personality, one that makes you feel like you are surrounded by the light of a thousand suns. His energy is bright and infectious and he’s insanely confident in himself which is what you can’t get enough of. 

You blink away from your entranced state at being subjected to a very intense look by him. “S-sorry. Uhh.. do you like it?” you try to change the subject feeling slightly embarrassed at having been caught staring. 

His gaze lingers on you for a second more before he’s breaking out into a knowing grin. You know he’s aware you were staring at him. But he just smiles about it, doesn’t try to call you out, and smoothly changes the subject “It’s good. But I am always going to be a strawberries man” 

You giggle at the comment. 

“I promise I am going to make you love strawberries” he quips, reaching over to your side of the bowl and putting a spoonful of strawberries in his mouth. “See, this is what happiness tastes like” his voice is muffled by all the strawberries in his mouth. 

“I think I am starting to like them already” your mouth falters into a grin as you watch the man in front of you filled with a sense of warmth. 

At your mild mannered compliment Taehyung’s grin stretches wide across his face, eyes disappearing into crescents. 

That night after Taehyung drops you home, you are greeted by a wide awake Nina, sitting in her PJ’s violently flipping through the channels. As soon as you enter, she jumps from her spot and runs over to you. 

“Who was the extremely handsome guy who dropped you off?” she tugs your arm and leads you to the couch where she makes you sit down. She takes your purse and haphazardly throws it on the loveseat, fixing her attention to you. She looks at you in anticipation, and you can see the excitement in the way she’s leaning in, and her brows are raised and she’s tapping her foot on the floor impatiently. 

“That’s my boss’s son. Taehyung” you supply

“He’s hot y/n. Like super hot. Can you get me his number please?” 

“What? No!” you shuffle back a little. 

“Why?!” she whines. 

“Because he’s my boss’s son” you avoid looking at her. You can feel her eyes on you, studying you carefully. The silence weighs heavy on your ears and despite the urge to break it and say something, you choose to remain quiet too. 

“You like him” she states matter-of-factly. 

“What the fuck! No” you vigorously shake your head. 

“You can’t lie cousin. You suck at it. You like this guy. I saw you. You were smiling like a whipped idiot when you were saying bye to him. I was right there” she points to the large window by the front door now curtained. “Dare I say, I think you guys were flirting” 

“No we were not” you say firmly

“If it helps, I think he’s into you too” she shrugs

“You think so?” it comes out lightning quick which makes Nina raise her brows curiously. 

“That gets a reaction from you. And you’re telling me you don’t like him. Look at how eager you are to get my opinion on it. You want to talk about this and you know it” she clicks her tongue and pouts at you. 

“Maybe I find him a teeny tiny bit attractive. But that doesn’t mean I like him” you huff, trying your hardest to pretend that the insinuation offends you but she sees right through you. 

“It’s all the same y/n. Go out with him. Ask him” 

“Uhhh… he kinda already asked me to go somewhere with him next weekend and I agreed to it” you mumble the last part quietly and Nina has to lean in to catch what you said.

“Wow. Miss I-don’t-like-him has a date and yet refuses to acknowledge she likes him.” 

“It’s not a date!” you say defensively. “It’s just a friendly hangout. 

“Right” she shakes her head. “Just a friendly hang out” she uses air quotes. “What are you, five?” 

“Ughh. Whatever. Stop being so obsessed with my love life” you lean against the back of the couch, rubbing your temples. 

Your phone buzzes and Nina reaches across into your purse and pulls it out. You watch her brows rise and mouth open as she reads whatever is on the screen. “Uhhh lover boys have messaged you” she holds the phone up for you to see one message from Taehyung and one from V both showing up on your notifications one under the other. 

“Fuck” you mutter as you take it from her. 

“Yeah you are fucked cousin. Two hotties and you. Now that’s what I am talking about” she winks in a suggestive and sleazy manner. 

“Nina!” you chide. “Get your mind out of the gutter. Please” 

“Okay fine” she sighs. “What are you going to do?” 

“I don’t know. I am attracted to them both” you mumble sheepishly hiding your face behind your hands out of embarrassment. 

“Who do you like more though?” 

“They’re both so sweet. V makes my heart flutter and he makes me smile in a way no one does. I feel like I have known him forever. He just gets me in a way no one does. But Taehyung makes me curious. He excites me. He makes me want to be seventeen again”

“That’s tough” she pats you on the shoulder sympathetically. “You know you can’t have both right?” 

For the first time Nina has said something right. It takes you by surprise but you don’t have the energy to dwell on the sudden show of maturity. “I know” you groan. 

“Well I’ll let you sit with this” she offers her usual pursed lip, uninterested smile. “I am going to sleep” she stifles a yawn. 

You roll your eyes. “Yeah great. I’ll just agonize over this while you sleep” 

“Sorry cousin. I need my beauty sleep. Besides I doubt I’ll be of much help” she gets up with a groan and stretches her hands over her head, and drags her feet over the floor as per usual. 

“You’re never any help” you mutter, diving face down onto the couch. 

You grab your phone, the light blinding you as you scrunch your eyes to stop it from hurting. Once you adjust to it you open the message from Taehyung: 

I had a really fun time today. Can’t wait to see you again on Saturday. Good night y/n :) 💤 

You scroll the notification banner down and click on V’s message. 

Icedtea: I am sorry we weren’t able to talk a whole lot. I got busy with the friend I told you about. I promise we’ll catch up tomorrow. Good night 😴 

You turn on your back, staring blankly at the ceiling. There isn’t going to be any sleep tonight. 

Yeah you’re thoroughly fucked. 

Absolutely. Utterly. Completely. Screwed. 

On Friday morning Mrs. K calls you early to tell you that you don’t need to go into work. She leaves a long winded voice message about how Taehyung told her about taking you out on Saturday and she doesn’t want you to be tired for the day. So she just wants you to rest up and is giving you the day off. 

That comes as a respite because a day off is exactly what you need. You have too much on your mind between V and Taehyung. Feelings are exhausting in general. But when you’re like a pendulum swinging from one boy to the other it’s ten times more excruciating to deal with. 

You lounge around the whole day, not wanting to do anything because you know that Saturday is coming soon. The anxiety in itself is enough to render you useless for the rest of the day. It’s worse since Nina isn’t home. If she were there she would have already dragged you out someplace against your will and forced you to eat some kind of eclectic food you probably wouldn’t even want in the first place. 

That’s exactly what you need— a huge distraction from your even bigger problem of having fallen two guys at the same time. People have a hard enough time dealing with one, but your destiny has blessed you with dealing with emotions for two men who you feel thoroughly incapable of choosing between. 

As if on cue your phone chimes and you pick it up lazily already having an inkling as to who it will be. 

Icedtea:  Hey! what are you upto?

“Wallowing in my misery” you grumble as you stare at the message but begin typing the exact opposite. 

Bananamilk: I am doing...amazing! 

An instant reply arrives bringing with a pang of nervousness in your chest. 

Icedtea: No one says they’re doing amazing unless they are going through something horrible. What are you going through?

Your breath gets stuck in your throat, your thoughts on pause as you read the message. He can’t see you, he doesn’t even know you all that well. For fucks sake he’s texting you. 

Bananamilk: that’s creepy V. But spot on. I am going through something

Icedtea: Wanna talk about it? 

“Not with you because you’re part of the reason I feel this way” you sigh as you speak to the screen like he can hear you or see you through it. 

Bananamilk: I’ll be alright. I’ll survive 😊

Icedtea: Alright. But you know if you want to talk about it I am just a text away. 

Bananamilk: Yes I know :) Thank you. Onto happier subjects. How did your day with your friend go? 

Icedtea: It was a lot of fun. I am seeing her again soon. How was yours with your friend? 

Bananamilk: I had fun too. But I am so tired

Icedtea: I know what will help. Give me a sec 

The three ellipses show that he’s typing so you patiently wait. Not too patiently though because as you cross the five second mark the suspense starts to get the best of you and you sit up in your bed tapping your fingers impatiently against the back of the phone. 

Icedtea has shared a link. 

You open it to find a link to Spotify and clicking the link transports you to the music app. 

A notification banner pops up on your screen with the following message: 

Icedtea: I made that playlist for you. 

Giddily you click on it to reply. 

Bananamilk: you made a playlist for me? 

Icedtea: Yeah. I was listening to music and then I remembered you told me you like Tchaikovsky so I made it for you with all his pieces. I hope it helps you get through whatever you’re going through 

Bananamilk: Oh my god I love you V ❤️

You smile as you read the message and then it melts into panic.

“Fuck” your eyes widen as the words glare back at you blindingly  bright. It’s as if you acquire tunnel vision and all you can fixate on is ‘I love you V’. “Shit. Fuck.” the sense of urgency gets the best of you as you jump out of your bed and proceed to scream and yell until you’ve almost pulled your hair out. 

“I heard yelling” Nina pops her head into your room. 

“That was me” you mumble . “Wait I thought you weren’t home” 

“I’ve been in my room and I am stealthy like a vampire so you didn’t know I was home. What happened?” she approaches you and sits down next to you on the floor. 

“I told V I love him” you groan

With a lack of response  you are prompted to focus on her only to find her looking at you with a raised brow. 

“What?” you snap

“That fast huh. I thought you would hold out until he’s on the verge of ending it because your righteousness gets in the way of it” 

“It was a fucking mistake” you grab one of her hands and thrust your phone into her palm. 

She looks over the messages and then hands you your phone which you slide away against the floor because you can’t even look at it. “He made you a playlist and you told him you love him?” she snorts in a judgemental way. 

“No one has ever made me a playlist okay!? you say defensively and shoot her a disapproving look. 

“Just tell him it’s because you feel thankful or whatever emotional shit you can come up with,” she replies with a casual tone, not as freaked out as you. But then again she’s always calm about everything. 

“I would but he hasn’t said anything” you point to the phone. 

“Relax. The world hasn’t ended cousin” 

“You’re not helping Nina!” you snap at her, unintentionally taking your frustration out on her. 

Your phone buzzes and you crawl across the floor, and reach for it. 

Icedtea: It’s not a problem . Anytime 💕

You immediately sit on your knees and scoot back until you’re sitting next to Nina. 

“I don’t know what this means” you hold the phone out to her. 

She scoffs. “I thought I wasn’t of any help,” she says bitterly. 

“This isn’t the time to be vengeful, Nina” you remind her gently. 

She snatches the phone so she can take a lot at it. “He sent a heart.  Coming from a guy that’s as good as ‘I love you too’” she lazily holds your phone to you. 

You take it from her. “So what should I say” you bite your lip.

“Just tell him you’re thankful for the playlist and move on” 

“Easier said than done” you turn focus back to the device in your hand and begin furiously typing while Nina quietly slips away but you don’t have time to address that. 

Bananamilk: sorry I got a little excited because no one has ever made a playlist for me before. Thank you very much V. I really appreciate it and I do feel better because of it. 

Icedtea: I am glad to hear that. Happy I could be of some help. 

It’s help that’s going to push you further into the rabbit hole of your feelings for him and complicate things even more. How can you like two guys without feeling like you’re not some cheater bitch? It’s not like you are in a relationship with either of them. However, feeling things for V when you’re talking to him and then feeling things when you’re with Taehyung makes you feel guilty and apologetic as fuck. 

You quickly make an excuse to get out of talking to V because you can’t get your mind out of this spiral you are falling into. There is only one thing to do. So you force yourself to get up and trudge out of your room and into the land of the living. 

“Hey” you address your cousin who is in the kitchen surely fixing up food. 

“Yes” she quips, still sounding a little mad because she’s got that bite to her tone. 

“I am sorry for how I reacted earlier. I was panicking and you were next to me and I am sorry I put it on you” 

She looks over her shoulder at you. “No harm done cousin. But you look fucked” 

“I suppose what I am feeling shows on my face huh” 

“You don’t have to be screwed over just because you like two guys at the same time. It’s a perfectly normal thing. Eventually you will gravitate towards one more than the other. Until then just go with the flow of things and don’t over analyze shit” 

You let her words sink in. They actually make sense, and this is the second time in the past few days she’s given you the right advice. “You need help?” you enter the kitchen further and stop next to her offering to help as a show of your gratitude.

“It’s just ramen” she shrugs. “You want some?” she asks as she licks the sauce off her finger. 

You nod. “Thanks Nina. For everything” you rest your head on her shoulder. 

“I know what will cheer you up” she says and then ushers you out of the kitchen. “Go sit down, grab a blanket put on netflix and we’ll watch the Witcher and then Man of Steel. There’s nothing a little Henry Cavill marathon can’t fix” 

You do as she says and grab a blanket out of the closet and cozy up on the sofa. You turn on the TV and put on netflix, immediately searching for the Witcher. The moment Henry Cavill’s devilishly handsome face pops up on the screen you start feeling better. You put on the first episode of the Witcher, immediately transfixed Henry’s beauty. Just what was God doing when she made him? How can someone look that good? 

With these thoughts swirling in your head, you immerse yourself further into the fantasy world that captures your full attention. So much so that you don’t notice Nina sitting next to you and obnoxiously chewing on the noodles. 

You end up spending the rest of the day cuddled on the couch with her watching the Witcher and every Henry Cavill movie Netflix has in its catalogue. For a while you forget your troubles and just enjoy being a normal human being except you have an obsession with one Henry Cavill. 

At 11 am sharp on Saturday a honk resounds through the air sending you into a state of panic. 

“He’s here!” Nina yells as you stumble out of your room and run down the stairs. “Holy fuck he’s so hot” she says dreamily as she spies on him through the curtains of the window next to the front door. 

“Stop ogling at him and help me find my fucking shoes” you say in a hurry as you grab your tiny bag and sling it across your body. 

“They are by the door” she says without taking her eyes off Taehyung. 

You put on your white shoes and dash out of the door, not even saying bye to your cousin. But you doubt she cares. 

Outside Kim Taehyung is leaning against his car, the bright sun reflecting off his sun kissed skin. The sound of your shoes grating against the gravel alerts him and he looks up to greet you with a smile. 

“You look good” the compliment falls smoothly through his lips and settles deep inside your heart. He pushes away from the car and holds out his arms for a hug. You cave in and wrap your arms around his much larger frame. His whole body envelops yours, a fact that leaves you feeling delighted as you bask in Kim Taehyung’s warmth. He squeezes once more before he lets go and you both pull away. 

“You look good yourself” your lips split in a wide smile as you take in his form. He’s wearing a white mock neck, tucked into black jeans the rims of which are folded on top of his black doc martens. The whole look is tied in together with a blue denim jacket. The boyfriend vibes he’s serving are real and you can’t help but feel like his girlfriend, even though you’re not. 

You catch yourself in time because before that train of thought can catch speed and run out of your control, you nip it. “So where are we going?” 

“It’s a surprise” he opens the door for you like the gentleman he is. 

“I am never getting used to this” you look at him as you pass him and sit in. 

“Well get used to it because I am going to be doing this a lot” he says before he shuts the door softly and runs around quickly and straps himself into the driver’s seat. 

“So you’re absolutely not going to tell me where we’re going?” you ask as he starts the ignition and begins to back out of the driveway. 

“Nope” he shakes his head as he focuses on reversing, looking around in all directions.

Once you’re on the road, he reaches into the back seat and hauls up a bag which he holds out to you. 

“What’s in here?” you ask, taking the white plastic bag from him. 

“Snacks” he glances at you. “It’ll take us about two hours to get there. I thought you might get hungry” 

“Are you taking me to some isolated place to kill me?” you tease, a grin making its way onto your face as you look at him. 

He keeps his focus ahead. “Did we not determine that I am not a psycho?” 

“No. You said you listen to classical music and that’s most definitely a sign you’re a serial killer” you remind him, tearing your gaze away to rummage through the bag sitting in your lap. 

“You are a pepper spray carrier. I wouldn’t worry about it” he replies, a soft chuckle falling through his mouth. 

“Wow you got a lot of stuff” you look through the bag. 

“I got a whole row of stuff from the convenience store” he shrugs as if that is some common occurrence. 

“Did you just say a whole row?” you gawk at him stupidly, blinking in disbelief. 

“Yeah” he says casually. He glimpses at you for a second and chuckles at your reaction. “I didn’t know what you liked so I got whatever I could” 

“How thoughtful” you comment. 

“Thank you. I should have warned you that we might have to get down and dirty, where we’re going” 

“Oh now you have to tell me Kim Taehyung” you turn to him. 

“I can’t. It’s a surprise” he deflects.

You groan which makes him laugh silently,  his shoulders shaking as teeth peeking from behind his lips. “I take it you’re not a fan of surprises?” 

“No. Not at all” you shake your head. “I was wondering…” you trail off keeping your gaze affixed on his profile. 

He turns to you quickly. “What were you wondering?” 

“That day you were very smooth when you asked me to come with you. So, I was just wondering if this is a date” 

“Do you want it to be a date?” he takes a peek at you. 

“Did you intend for it to be a date?” you counter, 

He huffs a soft laugh through his nose and bites his lip. “You caught me y/n” 

You don’t know where this boldness is coming from. But you’re taking Nina’s advice to heart and letting things play out organically instead of trying to control them. “So then, should I assume you like me?” 

He’s silent as he chews on his lower lip like he really has to think about it. Usually it's an automatic response but the fact that he’s taking time makes you think there is something there, just under the surface that’s bothering him. The longer he takes the worse the anxiety gets “Yes” the word leaves a whisper through his mouth. “I like you” 

You’re silent. He’s silent. You can feel the weight, weighing heavy on your shoulders. 

“Since I have made the admission. I have to ask” he pauses. “Should I take it you like me too since you decided to come with me?” 

He’s smooth. He’s very good at using words.

 You like him. But it’s hard to give a quick response because you also like V. So admitting your attraction to Taehyung seems like you’re playing V even though it’s not your intention. 

“Yeah” you reply quietly remembering that Nina told you not to ‘overanalyze shit” 

Taehyung steals a glance at your face, then his eyes travel to your hand that’s resting on your lap. He reaches over and extends his hand and quietly laces his fingers into yours. You succumb to his touch and curl your fingers over the back of his hand, a gesture that makes him look at you with a knowing smile-- one that speaks volumes about his feelings for you. You look from your now less lonely hand to him and a small smile curves on your lips

For the rest of the ride neither of you say a word, and sit quietly hand in hand basking in this newfound feeling. 

“Y/n”

You feel a shake 

“Y/n” 

Someone is definitely saying your name. But who? 

“Y/n” comes the voice again and you jolt awake 

“What?” you say slightly panicked as you look to your left, to find Taehyung. Oh right. You’re going somewhere with him. 

“We’re here” he says. 

You blink away the sleep that weighs heavy in your eyes. “Where is here?” 

“ My grandparents strawberry farm in Sonoma” 

And then sleep vanishes. “What!?” you are wide awake as soon you comprehend his words and unconsciously squeeze his hand. 

He chuckles. “I love it when you get all surprised. It’s all very adorable” he says fondly, eyes sparkling, and smile teetering at the edge of his lips. “It’s also adorable that you fell asleep holding onto my hand” 

You look down and find your hand still locked securely into his. 

“As much as I love holding your hand, it feels kind of numb” he comments, looking at you with pursed lips. 

It takes a second for you to understand what he means as you blink rapidly. Clearly your brain is still a little foggy from the nap. “Oh shit. Yeah. Sorry” you pull your fingers out from his, and he uses his now free hand to unbuckle his seat belt

“Wait” he says and steps out of the car. He comes to your side and opens the door for you and holds out his hand. He really did mean it when he said you should get used to it. A cool draft of air hits you as soon as the door opens and you welcome the relief because your body feels hot all over. 

“Why didn't you tell me you’re bringing me here?” you ask as you place your hand in his and with a gentle pull he manages to help you. He closes the door but keeps a hold on your hand, sliding his palm in yours. 

“If I told you it wouldn’t be a surprise” you walk hand in hand. 

“True. But your grandparents farm? Isn’t it a little weird? I mean I am not even your girlfriend which is who you usually bring to places like this” 

“As far as they know, you are. ” he shrugs. 

“I am?

“Yes you are. I told them you are . You are my girlfriend as far as anyone in this little town is concerned ” he squeezes your hand and swings your interlocked hands. 

“Wow. I just got demoted from wife to girlfriend. Are you cheating on me Kim Taehyung?” you laugh lightly, but it falters when you realize you shouldn’t use the word ‘cheating’ so lightly given your predicament between Taehyung and V. 

He however doesn’t respond in the same way. If anything the smile and liveliness of his face morphs into a solemn expression as his lips pull into a straight line. He lowers his head, blinking profusely. He looks slightly uncomfortable, a vacant look appearing in his eyes and his hold on your hand slackens which makes your heart sink. He doesn’t let go but clearly something has changed. 

“Are you alright?” you question 

A look of realization crosses his face and the distant look in his eyes disappears replaced by the usual amount of warmth you are used to. “Yeah” he squeezes your hand. “Just thinking about something. Sorry” 

“It’s okay” you reassure him. 

You let a few seconds of silence pass before you speak. “So what exactly are we doing here?” 

“Picking strawberries” he smiles from ear to ear clearly excited at the prospect of getting to eat strawberries to his heart's content. “I promised I would get you to love strawberries and here we are” 

“You have a very weird obsession with this particular fruit” 

“Hey don’t judge” he pouts. “Girlfriend’s aren’t supposed to be judgemental” 

“But” you pause. “I am not really your girlfriend” 

“Today you are” he grins and motions to your hands which are still held together. 

It turns out Taehyung was right when he said you would have to get down and dirty. There’s soil marks over your white shoes, and you have been kneeling down trying to pick out as many strawberries as possible because Taehyung decided that an impromptu competition would be a good way to keep things interesting. His grandparents being the sweet people they are let you two be and left to work on ploughing the fields somewhere else. 

You don't know how you got roped into it but you know that you could never say no to Taehyung. If he told you to jump from a building asking you to trust him, you would do so. If he asked you the one thing you absolutely hated: get on an airplane and fly to an unknown destination you wouldn’t even hesitate for a second. You have known him for only a week but you’ve learned enough to be able to put your faith in him. But it feels like you’ve known him forever too. Like you know him from somewhere else but you just can’t remember. 

Too distracted by your thoughts you don’t notice Taehyung taking strawberries out of your basket. It’s only after he’s taken out a handful that you realize it. “Hey! That’s cheating” you have to yell because he’s already on the run. “Kim Taehyung you are dead” you chase after him in the fields which is definitely not a good idea for several reasons. One, the sun is high up in the sky and getting in your eyes so you can’t see clearly where you are going. Second, you’re getting dirt all over your shoes and the hems of your jeans which are the best pair you own. Third Taehyung is taller than you and hence his strides are longer so you’ll never be able to catch him. Fourth, not having any food in you is the worst time to run so you start feeling a little dizzy. 

You stop to take a breather and Taehyung, noticing a stoppage in your shouts, turns around to find you bent over. He runs to you quickly. 

“Are you okay?” he sets down the basket of strawberries and strokes your back. 

“Yeah. I just need food” you pant heavily and straighten up.

“Food you say” Taehyung raises his eyebrows suggestively. “I have just the perfect thing” 

“You are the worst fake boyfriend ever” you gripe as you walk hand in hand with him to the convenience store which happens to be four blocks away. On an empty stomach and running on nothing but fumes four blocks easily seems like forty. 

“You feel that way now. But just you wait. I’ll make you something so amazing you’ll kiss me for it” he says confidently. 

“Kiss you? Aren’t we getting ahead of ourselves” you quip, trying to slow down the pace of where he’s headed. If this were a normal situation you wouldn’t worry. But you have to think about V too. Yes you want things to happen organically but at the same time you need to uphold yourself to your personal standards for morality. And it won’t be right to kiss Taehyung when you feel something for someone else out there too. 

“You’re right” he shakes his head. “Correction. I’ll make you something so amazing you will love me for it” 

“Don’t get all cocky Kim” you reply with a grin. 

The convenience store comes into site and you both speed up as you practically run towards it. You enter the small store and to your right standing behind a cash register is an older man writing something in a notebook. 

 Taehyung greets the man. “Hello Mr. Jung” 

He looks up and a look of recognition crosses his face “Oh Taehyung! It’s nice to see you after so long” 

“It’s very nice to see you too” Taehyung smiles at the older man. 

Mr. Jung looks at you and offers a polite nod, and you reply with a small ‘hello’. 

“Sorry Mr. Jung. I forgot. This is my girlfriend y/n” Taehyung looks at Mr. Jung, a proud smile resting on his lips. 

The way he says ’girlfriend’ makes you want to rip your insides out and stop feeling because it’s too overwhelming. Despite your admittance that you like each other, it’s not like you’ve decided to do anything about it. So technically he’s not your boyfriend and you aren’t his girlfriend and you have to keep reminding yourself that this all for show. 

“Hello y/n. Pleasure to meet you” Mr. Jung says.

“Nice to meet you too Mr. Jung” you respond 

“Hey if he bothers you, you come to me. I will set him straight” Mr. Jung laughs. 

“He bothers me a lot” you complain, pouting. 

“Hey!” Taehyung’s jaw drops in disbelief. “You’re not supposed to tattle on me” 

“You better treat her nice, boy” Mr Jung says in a stern but playful tone. 

“Of course I will! She deserves to be treated like a queen even though she rats me out” this time Taehyung’s lips jut out in a pout. “That reminds me. I am looking for bread and that special sweet cream Mrs. Jung makes” 

“Ah!” Mr Jung’s expression changes to that of realization as soon as Taehyung mentions sweet cream. “The bread should in the last aisle and the sweet cream should be in the refrigerator at the back”

“Thanks Mr. Jung” Taehyung says and walks towards the aisle where he grabs a loaf of bread and tucks it under his arm because he’s still holding your hand and only has his other hand free. 

“Do you maybe want to let go so that we can comfortably shop?” you suggest noticing him having a hard time holding the bread without squashing it to a mush. 

He shakes his head. “No thank you. I like holding your hand” he says firmly. 

You give up quickly, realizing that he won't let go. So you shop around like that-- hand in hand, and a loaf of bread tucked under Taehyung’s arm. From far away you would look like a couple, an awareness which makes your face overcome with a slight crimson flush. 

“Hey do you mind grabbing the sweet cream” Taehyung points to the stacked white, unlabeled containers in the fridge. 

You manage to open the door, but have to hold it open with your foot because your other hand is occupied by Taehyungs. It’s a minor inconvenience which you don't mind. You grab the container and lift your foot against the door and it shuts. “Why are we buying bread and cream?” 

“It’s a secret” he winks 

“You and your surprises” you shake your head at him. 

“I promise you, you will love it” he leads out of the back and to the front where Mr. Jung is. 

Taehyung places the bread and you put the sweet cream on the counter. For the first time he let’s go of your hand to take out his wallet from his back pocket. 

“Don’t worry about Taehyung. This one is on me” Mr Jung smiles at both of you when he sees Taehyung’s wallet.

“Are you sure?” you quip 

“Yeah Yeah” he waves your concern off. “I have known the Kim’s for the better part of forty years. We’re like a family” he takes out a brown paper bag and places both the bread and sweet cream in there and hands you the bag. 

“Thank you Mr. Jung” Taehyung grins up at the older man and nods as both of you leave. Once you are out of the store, Taehyung takes the bag from you and reaches down to grab your hand in his, interlinking your fingers once again. 

Taehyung’s grandparents' farmhouse is ginormous. When you arrived he took you straight to the fields so you didn’t have time to come to the house. The moment it comes in sight you are awestruck at the grandiosity of it and you can’t close your mouth. You hear Taehyung chuckle beside you, no doubt at your reaction but you don’t acknowledge him because you just can't seem to tear your gaze away. 

“This was built in the early 1900’s. Been in the family for a few generations now” Taehyung comments. 

“Wow” you blink rapidly, trying to process the beauty of the house in front of you. 

“We had to renovate it a few years ago because there were  alot of structural issues and mold and whatnot. So it looks slightly different from the outside. But the inside is pretty much the same” 

“You must have spent a lot of time here when you were younger” you finally manage to look away, having had your fill of beauty. 

He nods. “I did. I came here every summer instead of staying in LA. I would spend all my time in the farms with my grandfather, helping him pick strawberries, planting new bushes after the harvest was done, cleaning up around the house and greasing the equipment.”

“Who knew you made an excellent farm boy” you grin at him teasingly, just imagining a kiddie version of the man next to you with his grubby hands helping his grandpa. 

“I am also an excellent chef, thank you very much” 

“We’ll see Mr. Kim” you allude back to your first day with him when you were mistaken for husband and wife.

“You will Mrs. Kim” he jokes and both of you end up laughing. 

Taehyung guides you inside the house holding you hand, through one hallway and then another and he turns again. You forget the way you came in because it’s so big inside. You don’t even have the time to appreciate the architecture (which is very reminiscent of the early 1900’s with crafty woodwork) because Taehyung is beelining straight to the kitchen. 

He sets the paper bag down on the counter. 

“This kitchen is the size of a small condo” you comment, doing a full 360 as you take in everything around you. . The cupboards are all shiny dark oakwood, and the counters are pure white marble. You run a finger on them and it’s the softest marble you have ever touched. His family is definitely loaded. Rich doesn’t even begin to define it.

“My grandma always wanted a huge kitchen. So during the renovations they ended up extending the kitchen and they added the huge cutting board on the countertop because my grandma hates having to wash and clean cutting boards” Taehyung says as he’s looking through the twenty different cupboards for something. 

“What are you going to make?” you ask entering further. 

“It’s something my grandpa used to make when I was younger. I haven’t had it in a very long time. I wanted to share it with you” Taehyung finds plates in one of the cabinets and brings them over to the counter, and sets them aside. 

“That’s sweet of you Taehyung” you reply as you lean your back against the counter. 

“It’s only because I like you” he chuckles. Before you can respond, he’s already on another subject. He makes it seem like such a casual thing. But then again he’s always been up front with you. “Y/n can you bring those strawberries over please?” he points to a huge mound of strawberries piled into a strainer next to the sink. 

You grab it  and bring it over to him. You stop next to him and steal a strawberry for yourself. “Wow these are good” your muffled voice comes out as you savour the sweet flavour. 

“These are the best strawberries you will ever have” Taehyung comments turning to you. He reaches up with his hand and wipes away the juice from the corner of your mouth. 

“Thanks” you mutter. Heat rises in your cheeks once more, and your hands begin to sweat a little from nervousness.

Taehyung takes out the bread and places the loaf on the large built-in cutting board on top of the kitchen counter. “With crust or without crust” he asks. 

“Without please” you say 

“I would have been horrified had you said you want the crust” 

“No one likes the crust. It’s an atrocity” 

“Exactly” Taehyung stacks bread pieces together and in one swoop motion cuts the crusts on one side and the rotates to cut the other side. Once all the disgusting brown stuff is off from the good white stuff, he slides the colander filled with strawberries over to himself. He starts drying them with a cloth and placing them on the cutting board. 

“Where are your grandparents?” you ask suddenly realizing that it's only you two and no one else is around. 

He continues to dry the strawberries as he speaks. “It’s Saturday so they’re probably gone to Mr. Lee’s house at this time. He’s my grandpa’s friend and their farmhouse is just a few blocks down. Everyone in this neighbourhood gathers together and meets at Mr. Lee’s house on the weekends and they play cards and things like that. It’s been like that since I was thirteen” a fond smile appears on his lips as he reminisces about the past. 

“That’s sweet.” 

“All the people in this neighbourhood are my grandparents' age so they all have similar interests” he explains as he places the dried strawberries on the cutting board. 

“Makes sense” you nod. “Do you want some help?” you ask because you feel bad. 

Taehyung looks up at you “Are you good at cutting strawberries?” he asks 

“I can do a good enough job” you reply with a shrug. 

“Grab a knife assistant” he grins and then shifts his focus to cutting the strawberries he had dried. 

You pull a knife out the knife stand next to you and stand quietly next to Taehyung cutting his precious strawberries. It’s silent, save for the sounds of the knives hitting the cutting board. Once he thinks you have enough slices he starts assembling his secret dish. 

He splits the slices of bread in half and places some in front of you. 

“All we’re going to do is spread the cream and place the strawberries and make a sandwich” 

“A strawberries and cream sandwich?” you question

“Not just your usual strawberries and cream sandwich. I’m gonna shallow fry it” he wags his brows, feeling proud of himself. 

“Can't say I’ve ever had that” 

“Get ready for the best-est sandwich ever. It tastes heavenly” he steps behind you and reaches over to place a pan on the stove. The close proximity makes your heart skip a beat. 

You both begin assembling your sandwiches working in silence. The domestic vibes really give you a hard time with concentration because all you can think about is how homely this feels. 

“This reminds me of my grandma and grandpa cooking together when I was younger” he takes the words right out of your mouth because this reminds you of your parents when you were younger.

“Oh the domesticity of it all” you laugh. 

“I like it” Taehyung says fondly, looking at you. 

 You feel his eyes on you and look up at him with a grin. “It’s growing on me too”

Taehyung wasn’t lying when he said it tastes heavenly because it does. Shallow frying the bread just makes it taste a hundred times better than it would have. After you finish devouring the sandwiches Taehyung realizes how late it is and decides that he should get you home. 

“It’s already 8 pm. I didn’t even realize we’d been here that long” 

“Me neither” you reply, finally realizing how much fun you were having with him. 

“Let me just check how long it would take to drive back because we have to take a different highway to get out of Sonoma” he pulls out his phone. You’re silent while he checks how to get home and you decide to look around your surroundings. The huge garden in the back of the property is something you were anticipating, but you just didn’t realize how big it would be. 

Sitting under the fairy lights on the porch definitely does something to make the ambiance feel slightly romantic. 

“Shit. There’s been a major accident on the highway out of the county” he looks at you. 

“So what do we do now?” you question, feeling slightly panicked because you don’t feel comfortable leaving Nina alone in the house for the night.

He shrugs. “I am not sure how long it will take them to clear it up” 

“Damn. It’s already eight and even if it’s done in the next hour or so it’ll be too late to drive out” 

“Right. But it seems like it’s going to take way longer than that because it’s two trailers and a few cars that crashed into each other” he holds his phone out to you. 

Going by the picture posted in the tabloid it does seem like it’s a very major accident. You silently hope everyone involved is okay. You hand him his phone back.

“I guess we have to stay over for the night. Is that okay with you?” he questions, a concerned frown plastered on his forehead. 

“It should be okay. I just have to call my cousin and make sure she will be alright for the night” 

“Sure” he replies and busies himself in looking around while you dial Nina

It rings and rings and rings and just when you’re about to hang up her voice comes through. “Yes asshole. How can I be of service to you” 

“Hello spawn of the Devil” you say into the phone, forgetting that Taehyung is sitting only 1 meter away. He stops looking around as he catches your words, shooting you a confused look. You respond with an apologetic smile.

“I thought you were with your boyfriend” Nina says in her usual teasing tone. 

It gets to you. “He’s not my boyf--” you say a little too loudly and glance at Taehyung  to find him looking at you with raised eyebrows.  You mouth a quick ‘sorry’ to him. “Anyway. I wanted to tell you that I won’t be home tonight and--” 

“Yes girl get it!” she yells so loud you’re sure that against the silence of the night Taehyung heard that. You wince when you notice he’s stifling his laughter. He heard it for sure. 

Idiot Nina.

“We can’t leave because there’s been an accident on the highway out of the county and that’s why I have to stay the night. Are you going to be okay?” 

“Yeah of course! Don’t worry about me. Just take this opportunity alright? Don’t let it go to waste. Who knows when you’ll get it. Make sweet sweet love to him” her voice is so loud you want to throw your phone away and jump into that pool nearby and drown in it. An aching burn alights your cheeks on fire.

Taehyung chuckles, clearly having heard Nina. 

“Shut up, idiot. Call me if anything happens. Not that anyone would try anything with you” you say into the phone, your objective of making sure she’ll be okay completed. You hang up not giving her a chance to speak and pass an apologetic look to Taehyung. “I am sorry if you heard all that” 

“I did” he nods, trying to stifle his laughter once more. “Your cousin sure is a character” he comments. 

“You’re not the first person to say that. She’s the child of the Devil” you shake your head. 

“So she’ll be okay?” he asks.

“Yeah. If anything our neighbours should be scared I am not there to keep her in check” 

He laughs. “Why do you call her the spawn of the devil? Just out of curiosity” 

You sigh. “You’ve already heard a snippet of the kinds of things that come out of her mouth. But she’s totally boy crazy and she always says the wrong things at the wrong time like she just did a few minutes ago. She always puts me in awkward situations like right now which is why I am sure she was born to make my life hell. Hence she is the spawn of the devil” 

“You’re cute y/n” Taehyung chuckles with a shake of his head 

“Thank you I guess” you take the compliment. “So what should we do now?” you quickly change the subject, not wanting to further dwell on Nina because if you do you’ll just keep thinking about what she said. 

“Fancy a swim?” he asks, turning to look at the mirage of blue into the distance. 

“Uhhh I can’t swim” you admit sheepishly, looking away. 

Taehyung’s mouth drops open. “What?” 

“Not everyone can swim okay?” you look at him and say defensively

He stands up and holds his hand out for you. You look at him and then his hand and shake your head. 

“Come on y/n. Be brave” 

“I am a coward. Just let me be a coward please” you look at him pleadingly. 

“I’ll go with you. I won’t let anything happen to you. Trust me” 

You gulp hard and with a deep sigh place your hand in his as he leads you out to the pool. You stand at the edge while Taehyung without a warning jumps in, splashing you with water too. “You’re wet already now. Come on!” he says emerging from the water and smoothing his hair back, droplets dripping down his face and onto his chest. His shirt clings to his chest and arms, showing every contour of his body perfectly. 

“I am not even wearing proper swimming clothes” you try the excuse hoping it’ll get you off the hook. 

“I just jumped in wearing these jeans and my precious mock neck shirt. Be spontaneous y/n” he says, splashing water on you. 

Your hands come up to protect your face from the attack. “I am sort of scared” you mumble, slightly embarrassed at the admittance. 

“Do you trust me?” Taehyung asks as he takes a few steps forward until the water level lowers to his waist. He holds out his arms in the air as if to catch you. 

“I do” you mumble and step close to the edge of the pool while Taehyung moves forward and reaches for your hands. You place your hands in his and crouch down to the floor with his help and set one foot over the edge into the water and then the other. 

“Place your hands on my shoulder and jump in. I promise I won’t let anything happen to you” his voice is soft and tender, which helps calm you down slightly. 

You place your hands on his shoulder and he wraps his arms around your waist as you slide off the edge and into the water. A squeal passes your lips. With eyes shut tight, and nails digging into his shoulders you cling onto him for dear life. 

“I got you” his warm voice comes out in reassurance.He holds you close to him, not leaving a single inch of space between your bodies. 

You open your eyes and find yourself practically glued against him. His face is so close to yours, you can still smell the sweet strawberries on his breath. “I am scared” you whisper. 

“Just keep your eyes on me” he comments as he begins to set you lower in the water. You wrap your arms around his shoulders as you feel your feet almost touching the floor of the pool. You’re hanging onto him like a koala bear and he doesn’t seem to mind it. 

You make the mistake of looking down once and immediately hide your face in his chest. 

His arm tightens around you in a comforting way. “It’s alright. I am here” he mumbles as he places a soft kiss on the top of your head. “ Just hold onto me okay?” 

He starts walking backwards as you hold onto him and slowly but surely the water level rises along with panic. He stops smack dab in the middle of the pool. 

“Y/n look at me” he says softly, and you find the courage deep down to stare into those heartbreakingly beautiful brown eyes of his. “You’re fine. You can touch the floor of the pool” he unwraps your arms from his shoulders and steps back, but he still holds onto you. 

“Taehyung” you say warningly. 

“I am holding on. See” he looks down and you follow his gaze to find his hands wrapped securely around your forearms. 

“You promise you won’t let go?” your voice trembles. 

“I promise” he looks straight in your eyes. 

So you trust him and set your feet down completely this time even though the water almost swallows you. 

“See? You’re fine” he encourages you. “I am gonna swim back now” 

“Taehyung no!” 

He chuckles. “Relax y/n. I am still going to hold onto you. I am not going to let go of you. I swear” 

His words, the sincerity in them manages to put you at ease for the moment. He holds onto you and starts doing a backstroke dragging you along with him in the water. At first you’re terrified as your feet are lifted off the ground and the water weighs heavy on your body. But then after a while you become used to the weightlessness. Taehyung keeps his promise and holds onto your arm as you both swim around. 

“It’s fun right?” he looks at you with a smile and you chuckle nervously unable to form words because they are stuck to the back of your throat due to fear. 

So you circle around the pool holding onto him once you get comfortable. You manage to swim towards the shallow end of the pool where the water sits comfortably below your waist, providing you with a sense of security. Taehyung meanwhile stays in the deep end, eyes glued to you. 

“Scaredy cat” he teases with a grin as water runs down his face. His clothes are completely soaked. 

“You’ll get sick like that” you shout across the pool which makes him chuckle. 

He shakes his head and swims towards you, head appearing and disappearing and then he emerges out of the water right in front of you. He runs a hand across his face to  wipe away the water. A lock of his hair falls onto his forehead and absentmindedly you smooth it back. 

He grins at the gesture and sniffles.“Do you wanna sit up?” he asks, noticing how you’re shivering. 

“Yeah” you mumble and he easily picks you up by the waist and sets you down on the edge of the pool while your feet dangle in the water. 

He places his palms on the edge of the pool and hauls himself up, spinning midway to sit back down next to you. His arm touches yours, sending shivers through your whole body and you shudder. 

Taehyung wraps his arm around you and pulls you into himself as your head hits his shoulder “I saw it on Discovery. Body heat is the best way to warm yourself up” he offers an explanation, but you don’t need it because you don’t mind being this close to him at all. 

He gently strokes your arm, trying to warm you up and you snuggle closer to him and  wrap your arm around his torso. 

“I don’t have a change of clothes” you mention pensively. 

“I have some clothes here just in case. You can wear those” he offers kindly. 

You nod against his shoulder, too scared to speak for the fear of your teeth chattering as a cold draft blows towards you. Once the onset of shivers subsides you speak. “Thank you” 

He continues to rub your arm, and you feel the goosebumps abating. “You’re welcome” 

With his comment silence falls as both of you stare at the blue water in front of you too lost in your thoughts to think of anything else. With other people silence seems to pose a problem, but with him it's comfortable-- a sign that you feel at ease with him. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asks quietly

“Nothing in particular. What are you thinking about?” you ask in return and feel him resting his cheek on top of your head. 

“About how this feels right. You and I, just sitting like this” 

“It does, doesn’t it?” you say, feeling a pang of guilt rise out of your stomach because you feel like you’re deceiving him. Being with him and not speaking with V for so long, doesn’t do anything to lessen your feelings for V. You thought if you spent time with him, it would provide you with some clarity about who you like more. You had hoped it would help you in some way to decide who you lean towards but the thing is you’re back to square one. You definitely feel closer to Taehyung now than you did the first day you met him, but feeling closer to Taehyung doesn’t make you feel distant from V. 

He doesn’t respond to your comment which you don’t mind because sometimes silence speaks louder than words and right now you don’t need any words to understand what’s going on. 

“Do you want to go inside? I don’t want you getting sick” he asks, lifting his head from yours and looking down at you.

You unwrap your arm from his abdomen and pull your head away from his shoulder. “Yeah let’s go” you reply and he quickly gets up, holding out both his hands for you to take. You’ve become so used to his caring and gentle ways that when you slide your hands in his, it feels exactly right. He helps you up and wraps one of his hands in yours. 

He takes you to the drying area, which is basically just a room filled with towels and bathrobes, and swimsuits and swimming trunks. You both step inside, a shiver passing through you as the warm air makes contact with your cold skin. He grabs a towel from one of the open shelves and hands it to you. You run it through your hair while Taehyung grabs one for himself and runs it through his locks. 

You tap the towel over your clothes to absorb the excess water, especially your jeans, which are completely soaked. 

“You good?” Taehyung asks and you nod.  “I’ll get you a pair of my clothes and you can change into them” 

“Thanks Taehyung” you smile at him. 

Once you’re dried and not dripping water everywhere Taehyung takes you back inside the house, still no sign of his grandparents. He shows you where the rooms are and settles you into the room right next to his. You counted at least six rooms when he was giving you the tour of the floor.

“If you need anything I am just next door” he smiles after handing you his clothes. It’s a white shirt and black sweats. 

“Thank you for everything Taehyung” you return the smile. 

“Good night y/n” 

“Good night Taehyung” 

His gaze lingers on you as a few beats of silence pass. His brown eyes sparkle underneath light that is hanging overhead on the ceiling of the landing. He keeps his eyes affixed on you and you enrapt by him find it hard to look away too. 

He blinks first, breaking that small moment of tension. “I’ll-- I’ll see you tomorrow” 

“See you tomorrow” 

He pivots on his heels and disappears and you peek your head out to watch him vanish behind the door of his room. You shut the door and hobble back to the bed, falling face first on it. You feel tired but not tired enough to sleep. There isn’t a sliver of intention to sleep, and all the intention to stay awake. It’s especially worse because you’re separated by nothing but a paper thin wall between you and Taehyung. 

Knowing that he’s in the next room has your curiosity piqued. You want to know what he’s doing. You can’t help but think about the one time he grew solemn during the day when you joked if he’s cheating on you. There was something about the way he grew quiet that irked you. Something about the way his fingers loosened their grip on your hand almost as if he wanted to let go. 

You sigh and stand up, trudging to the bathroom connected to your room to take a hot shower. Maybe it will help you clear your head. 

You stare blankly at the grey ceiling of the room, your phone right next to you and your fingers slowly but surely reaching for it. 

You bring it in front of your face and open the app to text V. It feels like forever since you have talked to him. It’s in moments like this when everything around you is quiet, and your thoughts run rampant completely out of your control when you crave talking to him. Maybe it’s selfish of you but he comforts you. You remember the playlist he sent you and put the music on at a low volume so as not to disturb Taehyung in the next room. 

The silence is chased away by the sounds of quiet, soothing music. 

Bananamilk: Hi V. How are you? 

You wait for a reply but don’t have to wait for long because almost instantaneously a reply comes. 

Icedtea: I am so sorry I never messaged you all day long. Got busy 

Bananamilk: I was pretty busy too so it’s okay. What did you do? 

Icedtea: I hung out with a friend

Bananamilk: would this be the same friend you were telling me about earlier?

Icedtea: It’s weird that you’re so obsessed with her 😂 but yes. 

Bananamilk: I am not obsessed with her 😐 Anyway, what did you guys do?

Icedtea: hung out. Talked. Ate. Tried swimming but she’s afraid of water 

Bananamilk: Wow that’s strange. I am scared of water too and my friend tried to get me to swim today too. Didn’t work out too well though 

Icedtea: Strange coincidence. Yeah. She swam for a bit with my help. But then I guess there is only so much you can do when someone is afraid of water. Can’t force it. 

Bananamilk: Yeah. Take it from me. You can’t. 

Icedtea: I kinda missed talking to you even though I was busy 

Bananamilk: Yeah me too. 

Icedtea: Aren’t you sleepy? 

Bananamilk: Nah. Too much on my mind. By the way I am listening to the playlist you made for me. Dare I say you’re a musical genius 

Icedtea: Gee thanks. I’ll make you another one so you can sleep. 

Bananamilk: Why are you so sweet V?

Icedtea: I am not like this with everyone. You bring out this side of me you know? 

Your heart lurches in your throat and your hands immediately start sweating which loosens your grip on the phone. 

Bananamilk: You’re good with words 

Icedtea: It’s one of my many talents. Thank you. But on a serious note are you finding the playlist helpful at all? 

Bananamilk: You have no idea how calm I feel right now while listening to it and talking to you. 

Icedtea: I always find music relaxes me. So I thought it might help you too. 

Bananamilk: Whoever ends up with you will be one lucky gal 

Icedtea: What if it ends up being you? 

You drop your phone on your face out of shock. It hits your nose and you wince in pain. “Shit” you massage it. Normally you would freak out and lose your mind over how to respond. But right now you feel too calm to let panic take over. Nina’s words ring in your ears and you remember to let things happen. Following that line you say the first thing that comes to your head. 

Bananamilk: You deserve better than me

And he does because you feel like an absolutely shitty person for having these feelings for him but also for feeling attracted to Taehyung. V deserves someone who can love him wholeheartedly and that’s not you because your loyalties are divided.

Icedtea: I don’t think I can do any better than you

Bananamilk: You barely know me, V. 

Icedtea: I know enough to say that I can’t do better than you because you’re exactly the kind of person I envision myself with. It’s so easy with you. 

Bananamilk: I feel the same way, but trust me. One day you’ll realize you can get someone better. Maybe that friend of yours. 

Icedtea: Yeah. Maybe that friend of mine… or maybe you. Anyway, I gotta go but I will catch up with you later?

Bananamilk: Alright. Take care 

Icedtea: You too. 

With a sigh you hide yourself under the blankets. 

It’s 1 am and you’re wide awake. For the past thirty minutes you have been mindlessly scrolling through your conversation with V while simultaneously thinking about Taehyung, who is in the room right next to yours. You toss and turn in your bed, desperately waiting for your brain to get tired enough to want to sleep. But it doesn’t come. You sit up in the bed holding your head in your hands ready to rip out your hair when soft sounds of music drift into your room from the paper thin wall between your and Taehyung’s room. 

Is he not sleeping? 

Somehow hit with the disease of stupidity, you shuffle out the bed and carefully tiptoe across your room. You open the door and peek your head out towards Taehyung’s room. The door is slightly ajar, and there is a ray of light casting shadows on the wall opposite you. 

Keeping in with being as quiet as possible, you continue to tiptoe as you cross the threshold of your room and enter the landing. You stand outside Taehyung’s room and knock once. 

“I am awake” comes his voice, and you peek your head inside. 

“I thought you were asleep” you whisper shout because you don’t want to wake his grandparents up. He’s sitting up in the bed clad in PJ’s that seem to fit him looser than his usual clothes. 

“I couldn’t fall asleep” he waves you inside as he whisper shouts too. 

You step in and close the door to the room as a courtesy for his grandparents. It is weird being in an enclosed space with him but you don’t have much of a choice. 

“Are you listening to Tchaikovsky?” you say in your normal voice. 

“Yeah” he nods and pats the empty spot next to him on his bed. 

“Are you sure?” you question stopping at the edge of his bed. 

He regards you in silence and as if something breaks inside him he nods. “My clothes look good on you by the way” he says taking in how his black shirt and grey sweats swallow your frame. You sit beside him under the covers, a respectable distance apart.

“Stop” you mumble feeling the heat rising to your cheeks. 

“You’re red again” he muses from beside you as a soft grin appears on his lips. 

“Will you stop it?” you slap him gently across the shoulder. 

“Fine” he chuckles. “What’s keeping you up at night?” he looks at you with those doe eyes of his. 

You and V 

If only you could tell him he’s part of the reason why you’re up at night. If you had the guarantee that telling him about V would not change a thing about your relationship with him, you would. But you have no such guarantee and you don’t want to lose whatever bond you have built with him. It’s idealistic thinking at best, but for now all you want to do is cuddle him and let that take away all your worries for the night. 

As if he can read your mind, he’s pulling you into himself and placing your head on his chest. He traces circles on your shoulder and hums slightly to the music that plays softly in the background. 

“Let me guess. You saw on discovery channel that cuddling helps people sleep” your laughter mixes in with the sounds of his humming and Tachaikovsky’s classics. 

He snorts. “It does. Discovery channel never lies” he offers in his defense. 

“Hmm” you say wrapping your arm around his torso and snuggling in closer. “I think I could fall asleep like this”

There is a moment of silence. 

“You do know that if something is troubling you, you can share it with me right?” his grip around your shoulder tightens as he gives a short reassuring squeeze. 

“I know” you mumble. “But you don’t have to be burdened by my problems” 

“It’s what friends are for isn’t it? Sharing your burdens?” 

“So we’re friends?” you question, absentmindedly playing with the fingers of his free hand and lets you. 

“I think we’re a little bit more than friends don’t you think?” 

“Hmm” you nod. “You don’t mind this?” 

“Not one bit. But the offer stands. I am always going to be there to listen to you even if I can’t help you” 

“Thank you” you say quietly, basking in the warmth of Kim Taehyung. “I’ll tell you because one day I’ll have to. But just give me time” you realize that this is all the moments you might have with him. He might never want to see you again after you tell him about V. He might feel like you betrayed him. Like you played him. 

“Take all the time you want y/n. Something has been eating away at me for days too and I am losing my mind over it. I feel like a horrible person because I don’t know what I am supposed to do. I am forced to pick between two people I adore and I just can't lose either of them...” he trails off.  

“Oh Tae” you sigh as you hug him tighter because you understand. “You know at the end of it all, you will be exactly where you should be and whoever you are supposed to be with. I don’t know if that helps you but if I was in your situation” you pause as your mind fills in the blank -- which i am-- “that’s how I would want to look at it” 

“Thanks y/n” he mumbles as he places his head on top of yours. “I guess all this talk is probably not helping you feel sleepy eh?” 

“Actually  you’re too warm and it is making me sleepy” 

You hear the reverberations of his laugh against your ear. “Good night Mrs. Kim” you can imagine the infectious grin on his face as he says it. 

You laugh in response too. It’s become somewhat of a joke between you guys. “Good night Mr. Kim” 

For some reason since all the V and Taehyung drama, Nina has become your voice of reason. When a bout of stupidity hits you she’s there to set you straight and you’re grateful for it because you can’t really see the appeal of objectivity in the situation. 

“Text V and ask him to meet up” Nina urges you, giving you the stern look just when you’re about to open your mouth in protest and whine. 

“I don’t even know if he actually lives in New York. Or if he’s on the other side of the world” you reply with resentment towards her suggestion. 

“You didn’t ask?” she looks at you in disbelief. 

“Why would I? It’s not like I was expecting this to get anywhere” you lament. 

“Well then you better talk to Taehyung about it. It’s been a week since you went to the farmhouse. You asked for time and you got it. So tell him about V” 

“I’m scared Nina” your lips just out in a pout and a frown appears on your forehead. 

“That’s normal, cousin. But you know you have to tell him. You can’t just lead him on. Just talk to one of them. But before that do you even know who you like more? Because you can’t like both of them equally and choose one of them because you have to. This isn’t a game and they aren’t toys. It wont be fair for anyone”

“I know. I realize that. I like V. I like Taehyung. That’s a fact we have established. But I do like one of them more than the other, something I realized last week” 

“How did you come to that realization?” she questions, tone full of curiosity. 

“It just hit me...out of nowhere. I almost felt the wind get knocked out of me. But now I know” you trail, the words slipping back from your tongue and collecting back in your mind again. 

“Who is it?” she asks

“I’ll tell you after I tell him” 

“There are two ‘him’s’ in this situation” she sighs. 

“Exactly” you purse your lips. 

“Fine. Then all you need to do is talk to both of them” 

“You say that like I am going to talk to them about cake or something” you shake your head. 

“In the grand scheme of things, it's like talking about cake” she winks at you in that casual way. 

“Sure. Whatever you say” your reply. 

“Make sure you do communicate with them otherwise I am gonna haul your sorry ass and make you do it. I did it once already when I signed you up. Just know I won't hesitate to act on your behalf again” she says warningly before she’s striding off without giving you the chance of scolding her. 

As your luck would have it, V is actually in San Francisco visiting his family. You don’t know why you allowed yourself to not ask him where he was going because if you had all this could have been avoided. But alas, you did ask him because he’s the first person you need to talk to. After you deal with him you’ll tell Taehyung the truth and you are prepared to face the consequences of your actions. 

You decided to meet with V at 10 am in the coffee shop near Misim because Taehyung is at Misim visiting his mother too. 

It’s 9:45 am and your heart hasn’t stopped its painful relentless beating since well last night when you texted V and asked him to meet up. Neither did you sleep and that was obvious though wasn’t it? So at 10 am on Sunday, you’re completely tired, your body begging for sleep but somehow your brain refuses to comply as it keeps you hyper alert, hyperactive, and fidgety. To make matters worse in the last 30 minutes you have already had two coffee’s. 

The door chimes and you turn around to find Kim Taehyung walking inside, clad in a suit. His hair is parted a little bit to the left of his forehead. He’s busy typing furiously on his phone and doesn’t notice the man walking towards him on a collision course.

“Taehyung!” you yell his name to prevent them both from crashing into each other and possibly getting hurt. 

Just as he’s about to bump into the man he looks up at you and then at the man walking towards him and side steps him. 

A frown graces his face as he approaches your table. “What are you doing here?” he stops next to you

“I am meeting a friend” you look up at him. 

“Me too!” his lips widen in a grin. 

“Your friend isn’t here yet?” he questions as his eyes fall on the empty chair in front of you and the two coffee cups sitting on your side of the table. 

“Do you want to sit with me while I wait for him?” you question 

He doesn’t hesitate and sits opposite you. “So it’s a guy friend. I see” he sounds a little bit jealous. 

“Are you jealous?”you question, feeling the nervousness and dread from before dissipating just a bit. 

“Kind of” he shrugs. 

You chuckle. “I like the honesty” 

He’s silent as he looks away, the tips of his ears growing red. 

“So your friend isn’t here either?” you question in order to make him feel a little less embarrassed. 

He abandons his incessant lip biting as he looks at you. “No she isn’t” 

“Oh” your mouth hangs open. “It’s a girl” 

“Why?” an amused look passes his face, lips quivering, threatening to spill into a smile. “Are you jealous?”

“Nah. I am not petty like that” you try to suppress a smile by biting your lip. 

“Liar” he narrows his eyes at you in suspicion. 

“Whatever you say Kim Taehyung” you shake your head. You crane your neck to look at the door in case someone is entering and in case that someone is V. “It’s ten and he isn’t here. I am just going to text him. Give me one sec” you slide your phone towards yourself and open the app to text V. 

Bannamilk: Hey. Are you almost here? You didn’t get lost did you?

As soon as you send the message to V, Taehyung’s phone vibrates which sits on the table. 

Strange. 

You shut your phone and look up at Taehyung. 

“Sorry. My friend, she just texted. One sec” he types quickly and when he puts his phone away, that's when your phone vibrates with a message from V. 

Your brows furrow in confusion at the strangeness of your phone and his phone buzzing when you both send texts to your respective friend’s but you shake the feeling away focusing on the message on your screen. 

Icedtea: I am here. Wait where are you?

Bananamilk: I am here too. I don’t see you. 

As soon as the message ticks off as sent, Taehyung’s phone rings at the same time. This is too many times for it to be a coincidence. Could it possibly be… Probably not but just to put your ridiculous suspicion to rest you ask him.

“Taehyung?” you question and he looks up from his phone. “Is that a message from your friend by any chance?” 

“Yeah” he nods. 

“Wait…” you bite your lip and send another message to V. Taehyung’s phone vibrates again. You send another message, just random gibberish and it vibrates again. 

“She’s just sending keyboard smashes now” Taehyung muses, looking confusedly at his phone. 

Your mouth drops open at his statement. “Taehyung” you call tentatively. He looks up and you hold your phone in his direction. 

He leans in closer to get a better look at whatever you’re showing him. His eyes dart across the screen as he reads your message and then a look of realization crosses his face. He blinks profusely, eyes switching focus from the screen to you. 

“No fucking way” he mumbles in a dazed way. 

“Yes fucking way” you mutter. “You’re V?” 

“You’re-- wait. But how?” he continues to blink rapidly, clearly unable to comprehend whatever is happening. He shakes his head, and closes his eyes for a moment and lets out a shaky breath. He opens his eyes and gapes at you“You’re bananamilk? The girl I have been talking to for weeks?” 

You nod slowly. “I- How is this even happening?” 

“I have no idea” he says under his breath, rubbing his face. 

“How have we been talking to each other on the app and face to face and not know any of this?” It's more of a rhetorical question. You don’t expect him to answer it because how the hell is he supposed to know that? 

But he does respond. “I can’t believe I never talked about Yeontan with you. If he came up we would have known a long time ago” 

“Holy fucking shit, Yeontan” you remember the picture V-- or rather Taehyung sent you as one of his very first messages to you. 

“My head is spinning right now” he massages his temples. 

“I need water” you get up and go to the ordering counter and get yourself and Taehyung water. You walk back, noticing Taehyung’s elbows planted firmly on the table and his face hidden behind his hands. 

“Water” you mutter and place the glass in front of him. He emerges from behind his hands and doesn’t delay in chugging down the glass of water. “What now?” 

“Does this change your feelings?” he questions instantly as he slams the glass on the table. 

“You know why I invited you- well actually V-- here? To tell him-- rather you-- that I like him and I like you. But I like you more than I like him and that it wouldn’t be fair for me to keep talking to him-- or talking to you” you start feeling overwhelmed by it and pause. “This is confusing” you rub your temples with a sigh.

“So you like the real me better than the app me?” he asks, a slight amusement reflecting in his eyes. 

“Don’t you feel betrayed though?” you look at him and question in all seriousness because it would make sense for him to feel at least some severity of disappointment. Because after all, this whole time to you, V and Taehyung were two different people. 

“I get what you mean. You thought V was a different guy and liked him and then you started liking me too as Taehyung, not imagining that me and V are the same people. But it’s the same for me so I can’t be mad at you. I thought you and m’lady as I know you from the app, were two different people. I liked her-- well you-- and also the real life y/n at the same time” he smiles softly. 

You bite your lip, unable to stop yourself from blinking profusely as the confusion still remains prevalent in your mind. “This is nuts” you cradle your head in your hands. “I still can’t believe it” 

“It is” Taehyung’s voice comes through like a saviour and draws you out of the dizzying trance you find yourself in. 

“Wait so when I joked with you that you’re cheating on me you grew all serious. Was that because of all this?” you question, curiosity getting the better of you. 

“Yeah. I felt horrible. Because it did feel like cheating. Here I was with this amazing girl, starting to develop feelings for her. But then I already liked another girl too” 

You shake your head slowly, still unable to fully grasp the situation. “You know I got the sense that something was wrong when you grew quiet and almost let go of my hand” 

“Sorry I didn’t mean to but it just hit me hard and I got lost in those feelings” 

“It’s okay” you offer with  a smile. 

“Are you mad at me?” he questions, voice laced with concern. 

“No. I can’t be mad at you. I mean if it was only you and there actually were two people then I might have been hurt. But we’re in this together” 

Taehyung pulls his lower lip between his teeth, a look of deep thought on his face. “So then we’re good?” 

You laugh quietly, a short huff of air out of your nose. “We’re good” 

“Since this is out in the open. I have to ask you this because I am dying of curiosity. When did you start liking me on the app and when did you start liking me in real life?” he questions, leaning in towards you. 

“I think that first spark of attraction on the app happened when we started talking about classical music and then we talked about LA and how it’s a sucky place to grow up in. In real life I realized it was when you ordered half and half of shaved ice and then when you brought those snacks for the trip to Sonoma. I thought you were kind and considerate which drew me to you even more” 

“Oooh” he chuckles. “For the app it was the same for me. But when I met you as y.n the moment that sticks out in my memory is when people at the restaurant kept calling us Mr. and Mrs. Kim. I realized I wouldn’t mind being your Mr. Kim” 

“How romantic” you joke, but you can’t deny that it's cute. 

Taehyung stifles a yawn but you catch it. “Did you not sleep?”. Sometimes it surprises you how easily you transition from one topic to another with Taehyung. There are no awkward pauses, no long deafening silences. Here you were two seconds ago talking about all the craziness but now you’re approaching a different topic. 

He shakes his head, another yawn teetering at the edge. “I was too nervous about today”. 

“Me too. I didn’t sleep a wink” you admit now that a bit of the confusion and from earlier has subsided. 

“Do you wanna nap?” he asks, wagging his brows at you. 

“Where?” you question 

“I know a place” he gets up and extends his hand. 

You take it and both of you walk out of the coffee shop hand in hand. 

You blink daftly at Taehyung, unable to believe he’s brought you here. “Your mom’s office?” 

“She has a couch” he points to the black piece of furniture that looks very comfortable at the moment. He flops down on it with a thud, head resting against the back. 

“Whatever” you mumble and make your way to the inviting plush leather sofa. “I am too tired right now to be picky” 

You lay your head in Taehyung’s lap after he insists that you use him as a pillow because “it will be more comfortable”. He plays with your hair absentmindedly, staring at nothing in particular with tired eyes. 

“What if Mrs. K comes in and sees us like this?” you question making him lift his head and look at you with those groggy eyes. 

“One, she’ll be delighted because she got her wish. Second, she won’t be here until tomorrow because her day is jam packed with meetings” he mutters, tiredness reflecting in the quietness of his voice. 

You’re quiet in response as you think about nothing in particular. But then your mind shifts to how it used to be before you met Taehyung. Things were different back then. You were so sure you couldn’t fall in love, much less fall in ‘like’ with anyone. You didn’t even want to involve yourself in relationships. But then he came in the picture and even though at first you didn’t think you would end up anywhere, you realized on that first night with him that you could end up somewhere with him. 

“Do you think this is going to change things?” you ask as you try to fight off the sleepiness because you need to know. 

“It’s not changing a thing for me. I am relieved in a way to be honest” his voice is raspy. He continues to run his fingers through your scalp which makes the sleepy sensation worse

“Relieved?” 

“Yeah. I fell for the same girl. Just different versions of her. I am so happy you are not two different people” 

“Me too” you yawn. 

“Anyway, I thought you were tired” he bends down and presses a kiss to your forehead.  

“I am ”you hold his arm over your torso and close your eyes finally. “I just wanted to know that things wouldn’t change” 

“They won’t” he mumbles sleepily and you notice his eyes fluttering shut. You let yourself drift deeper into the sweet slumber that is slowly overtaking you. The last thing you remember is the sounds of soft snores filling the room before your eyes shut. 

“Y/n” 

Jolt 

“Y/n” 

In your sleepy state you can hear someone calling your name. 

“Wake up. I should drop you home” 

You groan and shift slightly. 

“Okay seriously my legs are numb now, so you better get up” 

You murmur and refuse to open your eyes even when you feel another sharp jolt of your body being shaken. You flinch when you feel a draft of air in your ear, and have to clap your hand to shut your ear close. 

“Taehyung stop. Let me sleep” you whine in a raspy voice. 

“It’s 9 pm y/n and my dear mother is here” he whispers close to the ear you're covering. 

“What!” you awaken immediately at the mention of Mrs. K. 

“Good evening” Taehyung greets and you slide your legs over the edge of the couch as you sit with your back against the sofa. 

You look at him through half lidded eyes. “You said it’s 9 pm” 

“It’s 5 pm. We’ve been here for six hours” he smiles gently

You look around for signs of Mrs. K but the room is empty save for you and Taehyung. “You lied about your mom being here” you croak, throat feeling parched.

“It was the only way to get you up. Now, let's get you home where you can sleep more peacefully” Taehyung reaches over and places a kiss on your temple. 

“How much of a mess do I look like right now?” you rub your eyes. 

“Well, your eyes are a little puffy, lips slightly dry, and your hair is a bit messy too. So all in all you look beautiful” he grins at you. 

“Oh please don’t” you shake your head in pure disapproval. 

“Whatever you say y/n. But seriously I’ve got to get you home” 

“What are you, the curfew police?” you laugh quietly. 

“Don’t try to change the subject” 

You whine some more about wanting to sleep here because it’s comfortable but Taehyung promises that you’ll be much more comfortable at home in your bed.  And who are you to say no Taehyung? He could ask you to jump off a cliff and you would do it. He could break your heart and you would still like him. You’re putty in his hands and so you let him drive you home. 

At first when you offer Taehyung to come inside he refuses because he doesn’t want you to feel like you have to. But then when you explain that you really want him to come inside, after about fifty long seconds of thinking about it he says yes. He quietly follows you inside, and you lead him to the living room which is empty because Nina isn’t home. In fact she won’t be home for a few days. 

Taehyung makes himself comfortable and like the gentleman he is asks if he can put on Netflix. You tell him he can do whatever he likes, well because he can. You give him the freedom and permission because you trust him. After putting your stuff away you join him on the sofa and immediately he cuddles up to you, placing his head on your shoulder and wrapping an arm around your torso. You extend an arm behind him, so you can play with his hair. 

“What are we watching?” you ask, absentmindedly threading your fingers through his hair. 

“The Witcher” Taehyung mumbles as he puts on the first episode. 

“I forgot you are well aware of my Henry Cavill obsession” 

“You forget I think he’s a piece of art. So technically I am doing this for me and you” he says softly, eyes glued to the TV. 

You watch a few episodes in silence, occasionally changing your positions so that sometimes you are resting your head on his shoulder, or he’s laying his head on your lap and playing with your fingers as you’re both completely absorbed in the show.

He shifts his head in your lap as he turns his focus to you. “Y/n” his voice overlaps with the sounds of the Tv. “Will you be my girlfriend?” 

You look down at him with a soft smile. “Yes, I will” you reach down and press your lips against his. Taehyung immediately melts into it, hand reaching up to cup your cheek to deepen the kiss. Then in one smooth motion, he’s pinning you under himself. Your moans are muffled by his lips pressing soft kisses against your lips. His hands grip your sides, nails digging into your flesh. 

“I want to do more than just kiss you y/n” he mumbles against your lips

You let him. 

A shiver runs down your spine as Taehyung hovers over you, the bed creaking slightly due to the pressure of his hands digging into the mattress. He presses a kiss to your forehead, your nose, and then your lips. It begins as something playful, almost innocent but soon enough lust takes over and his kisses get hungrier. He wants more, and he conveys it as he digs his nails into your flesh making you wince in pain, but it’s the kind that’s pleasurable. 

“Fuck I want you so bad y/n” he runs his fingers down the middle of your torso, hand stopping just above your hip bone, where he teasingly plays with the band of your jeans. 

“Stop being a tease” you chide breathlessly, turning your head to look away from him

“Tell me you want it” he gently drags his finger upwards and it catches in the material of your shirt which rides up, partially exposing your stomach. His fingers continue grazing against your skin until his hand with your jaw and he makes you look at him. “Say it” he whispers softly, looking you straight in the eyes. 

“I want it. I want you” 

Taehyung doesn’t waste any time after you give him permission. He unzips your jeans and pulls them down your legs leaving you exposed in your panties. As he’s busy with that you almost rip your shirt as you hastily slide it over your head and throw it on the floor. A slight feeling of impatience overcomes you, as Taehyung very slowly crawls back up to you, leaving a trail of kisses over your exposed abdomen. 

You’re so impatient that you arch your back to gain access to your bra clip but he is quick to grip your hand just as you’re about to unhook it “Leave it on” the expression in his eyes darkens considerably as he kisses up your chest and nibbles on your collarbone. 

“Is that your kink?” you whisper breathlessly threading your fingers through his hair as he continues to bite gently along your collarbone. 

“I think it’s hotter that way” he mumbles as his lips graze your skin. 

 He locks his hands in yours and raises your arms above your head while he moves down to press soft kisses along your inner thigh until he reaches just above your core. He licks a strip along the skin just above the hem of your panties, teasing you, making your insides ache even more for some kind of friction.

“Just do it” you mumble impatiently. 

He chuckles. “Didn’t pin you for the impatient type” 

“Didn’t pin you for the talking type” you tease. “I thought you would be more of an action kind of guy” you try to provoke just so he will act and loosen the knot that’s built in the pit of your stomach. A pulsating sensation rips through your core when he pushes away the fabric of your underwear and rubs his thumb up and down your clit. 

“Shit” you shiver, back arching. 

“I haven’t even touched you properly y/n” his raspy voice makes the throbbing even worse. You can feel yourself getting wet. 

“Then do it. Please” you whine, craving his touch. 

“Who am I to say no?” and without a warning he plunges a finger inside you. 

“Oh my god, Taehyung--” your breath catches in your throat, breaking out in gasps as he pushes in and out slowly. 

“Wow, you’re tight” Taehyung mumbles as he sets a slow pace making sure you can feel every movement. He curls his index finger inside you, hitting that sweet spot that has your whole body stiffening in response. 

“Taehyung” you gasp, hips bucking automatically at the contact, your body yearning for the release that is building up slowly. 

“Fuck” he whispers as he presses his lips against your clit, moving his tongue in ways that makes you almost scream out of pleasure. You clutch the fabric of the bed sheet tight, knuckles turning white as Taehyung increases the pace with which he slides his finger in and out of you. You can hear the squelch of his fingers fucking you as your walls begin to clamp down on his fingers. The knot in your stomach twists, as you feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. 

But just as you feel yourself teeter at the edge Taehyung takes his finger out. 

“What are you doing?” you ask annoyed at being denied your orgasm. 

“Your turn” he shuffles from between your legs and sits down at the edge of the bed, and takes his pants and boxers off.  He looks over his shoulder at you, tongue peeking from behind his teeth. You get up, even though your legs feel weak and shift to the side so he has space. He shuffles back until he’s resting against the headboard. 

When you see him, your eyes travel immediately between his legs. “Wow” you blink profusely. “I am not sure it will--” 

“You’ll be fine. I got you” he says reassuringly as for a slight moment the primal expression of his eyes softens to be replaced by the comforting Kim Taehyung you are used to. “I promise” 

You did not expect him to be that thick and long. You can see the veins popping along his shaft. Slightly worried, you crawl over to him on your hands and knees as he grips himself. You lick your lips at the sight of him looking he’s fucked out of his mind and you haven’t even touched him. It only serves to make your arousal worse. 

You slap his hands away and wrap your own around his shaft. You bend down to lick a teasing line along the side and feel him shudder under you. Your confidence soars seeing him react so sensitively to your touch. You lick another strip at the crimson head, already leaking with precum. 

“Stop being a fucking tease” his voice comes out strained which makes you laugh quietly, a huff of air out through your nose. 

“Just repaying the favour Mr. Kim” you part your lips taking in as much of his cock into your mouth as you can. He reaches for your hair and pulls it back and thrusts his hips making you gag. You feel the head of his cock hit the back of your throat and you feel a slight burn in your jaw as he thrusts into your mouth once more.

“Fuck” he groans halting the movement and to let you continue on your own.  You pull back up to the head and sink back down again and he shivers beneath you once more. You pull away from him, breathless as you wrap your fingers around him. You look up to meet his hooded eyes and start massaging his cock, watching as he bites his lip and a soft whimper escapes his throat. 

“Keep going” he strains. You move your hand up and down against his shaft slowly at first and then you pick up the pace when you notice he starts twitching between your fingers. His thighs are tense as you fasten your pace and his chest rises and falls faster than before. The soft moans grow louder, hips lifting off the bed. It’s not long before he’s climaxing, and gasping for air as he bucks his hips for more friction. A guttural groan passes his lips as his orgasm hits him hard and his release coats your hands. But you don’t mind because the way Taehyung is gasping for air, red-faced, his hair in his eyes, lip caught between his teeth, it was worth it.

“I help you, you help me” you mumble as you lick your fingers free of his juices. 

“That’s so hot y/n. Fuck. Just lie down” he orders and you don’t waste a single second getting on your back. 

Taehyung hovers over you, hands locking yours in place beside your head, as he presses a  hungry kiss to your lips. He leaves your mouth to place soft kisses to the crook of your neck. He lingers there for a moment before making his way back down until he is between your legs. He spreads your legs apart, and settles in between them immediately sliding two fingers this time in your core as he looks at you from between your legs. 

“That’s it. Come on baby.” he mumbles as he dives in and suckles on your clit making that pressure build-up again as he moves in rhythm with his fingers. Your body feels like it’s on fire and you can't help but buck your hips in need of more friction. His fingers and his tongue pick up their pace making you keen as they work in tandem. 

He pulls his mouth away from your clit. He fervently pushes his fingers in and out of you while with his other hand he rubs your clit. “Cum for me babe” 

With the overstimulation, it’s not long before you are coming undone, walls pulsating and convulsing around his fingers. He draws patterns with his thumb on your clit as you climax. You shiver, and fist the bed sheet until your knuckles turn white as waves of pleasure rip through you. 

“Taehyung-” you whimper 

He licks as much of your cum as he can before he pulls away, shifting to place a soft kiss on your forehead. 

“You were amazing” he praises as he rolls off you, gathering you up in his arms, feeling the sheen of sweat on your skin as he strokes your arm. “Shower?” he questions, slightly breathless. 

“Give me a minute” you pant heavily trying to catch your breath as you snuggle against his warm body.

He chuckles and presses another kiss to your forehead. “Whatever you want y/n”

After you shower and clean yourself up, you and Taehyung make your way downstairs to the living room where you had left The Witcher on. You both fall down on the couch and you cuddle against him. He wraps his arm around you pulling you in closer. He reaches for the remote with his free hand and goes back to episode three which is where you had left off. 

“Taehyung?” you ask softly

“Yeah” he replies, eyes glued to the show. 

“Who was that girl in the picture you drew? The paper that I gave you when I first met you. I saw it” 

“You” he replies. 

You pull away from his warm embrace to look at him. You are sure it wasn’t you because it looked nothing like you. “Me?” your brows furrowed in confusion. 

“I saw your picture on Swipe, but you were wearing sunglasses that covered half your face. So I didn’t clearly know what you looked like. On my way here to meet my mother, I made that sketch based on what I thought you would look like given your personality. I did that because I had started to like you.” 

“Thats--” you have no words so you grab the material of his shirt and pull him in for a quick kiss. 

“What was that?” he asks, confused once you pull apart. 

“That deserves a kiss. You made me a playlist and then you drew a sketch. It was not of me. But it’s the thought that counts” you smile. 

“I have a question too” he looks at you curiously. 

“Go ahead” 

“What did you wish for that day? I know you said you don’t wish and tell but I want to know if that wish came true” he reaches for your hand and locks his fingers into yours. 

You’re quiet as you look at this man in front of you. The man who came like a whirlwind into your life and turned it upside down. A man you didn’t know until two weeks ago and then you knew all of him as V and as Taehyung. You got to see two different sides of him when people in this day and age are lucky enough to see one true side of someone. 

“What was it?” he prompts again with a soft smile that crinkle’s the corners of his eyes. 

“You” you whisper. “It was you. I wished for you” 

“You didn’t even know me back then” he blinks in an awestruck manner. 

“Yes I did. Just not in the way you or I thought. I wished that one day I hope I would meet V. Little did I know my wish had already come true hours before I made it and that it was standing in front of me in the form of you, Kim Taehyung” 

He blinks. He’s quiet as he looks at you, eyes travelling the expanse of your face as if he’s trying to commit to memory. His eyes sparkle, and you can see yourself reflected in his brown irises. You can see yourself through them and for a moment you think you look beautiful. 

“I love you” he leans in and presses a peck to your lips. “I love you so fucking much” 

You’re positively beaming when he pulls away. “I love you too. So fucking much” you reply and he laughs pulling you into his side as both of you settle back to watch The Witcher. 

{2 months later} 

When you and Taehyung decide to take things forward, you spend the night over at his place in San Francisco when he’s there instead of your own which is perfectly fine with Nina. He flies out from New York every few weeks to see you which is one of the many cute things he does for you.

On one Friday night when he’s in town and you’re at his place, your sweet sweet slumber is disturbed by an annoying Taehyung at 1 am. The sounds of feet shuffling against the floor, objects clattering here and there, muffled sounds of music just makes it all the more difficult to stay asleep. You whine and turn on your stomach and run your hand to the other side of the bed, searching for a pillow. Once your hand makes contact with the fluffy object, you throw it over your ear to block out the annoying sounds. 

“Y/n wake up” Taehyung’s voice blares through the room followed by the slow increase in the volume of music. “I’ll give you ten seconds babe” 

“No….” you maon, clutching the pillow tighter to your ear. 

“10, 9, 8, 7….” Taehyung’s voice grows nearer and nearer until the covers are being ripped off you along with the pillow. “We still need to get tickets” 

You open an eye to find Taehyung looming over you, hands pressed on either side of you on the mattress. He’s  already dressed and he smells like strawberries-- as usual. You abandon your comfortable sleeping position and turn on your back, eyes still half closed. “Can you really not tell me where we are going?” you complain as you open your eyes to find him looking at you with a soft look in his eyes. 

“Even I don’t know where we are going. Impromptu vacation remember?” he explains as he gets up on the bed and straddles you. He wraps his fingers around your forearms and lifts you up. “Alright, up and at em’ ” he strains. Once you’re sitting up, he kisses the tip of your nose and shuffles off the bed. You’re so tired you can’t even be bothered to feel your usual blushy self at his cute romantic gestures. 

“Can’t I sleep for five more minutes” you yawn. 

“Y/n” he says warningly. You look in his direction to find him standing in front of the dressing table mirror, fixing his already perfect hair. “Get up or no more Henry Cavill movie marathons on the weekends” he looks at you through the mirror knowing that threatening you with this will do the trick.

“Wow” your jaw drops. “You’re really gonna do me dirty like that?” 

“Okay seriously...” Taehyung turns on his heels and strides over to you, placing one arm under your knees and the other behind your back as he picks you up. 

“Taehyung!” you squeal as he carries you over to the bathroom. He kicks the door open with his foot and enters inside, placing you gently on the floor. You shiver as your feet touch the cold floor. The mirror is fogged, exhaust fans blaring above you. 

“Shower. Now” he ushers you towards the bathtub. He turns back towards the bathroom cabinets, crouches down and takes out a towel and stands up turning to you. He thrusts it in your hand. “Hurry up please” he stands on his toes to place a kiss on the top of your head and then he’s closing the door leaving you slightly annoyed. 

You begrudgingly listen to him and quickly shower putting on your bathrobe. Once you’re out of the bathroom you find the bed has already been made, and your clothes laid out on the bed. Taehyung is one his phone as he’s relaxing on the bed. 

“Have I ever told you how much I appreciate you?” you enter further into the room. 

“No you haven’t but the feeling is mutual” Taehyung abandons his perch on top of the bed and quietly exits the room to let you change. It’s when he does things like this that makes you want to jump his bones. But given that you are on a time constraint and still a little tired you’re not in the mood for jumping anything. 

Kim Taehyung sure does have taste as he picks out an outfit similar to his. Black cargo pants, with a white shirt and a blue denim jacket. You hear Taehyung calling out for you and quickly put on your clothes. 

“I am done!” you yell back and he enters the room. “Did you pick matching outfits?” you ask because he’s also dressed in a white shirt tucked in black cargo pants and a loose blue denim jacket completes the look. 

“It’s the trend these days. I would love to shower you in compliments because you look way better than I do, but we don’t have time” he tugs you by the wrist and hurries downstairs with you in tow. “Your shoes are by the door” he comments, gathering the luggage. Taehyung quickly puts his shoes on. He rushes past you with carry-on bags slung over his shoulders and hands occupied by the suitcases. 

The night is crisp and slightly chilly as you step out and lock the door. You run over to the car, Taehyung already in the driver's seat all strapped in. This is the only time in your very new two month relationship where Taehyung hasn’t opened the car door for you. You quickly sit and put your seatbelt on and then he drives off.

“So where do you want to go?” he asks as you stand hand in hand in front of the large board displaying all the domestic flights. 

When Taehyung suddenly proposed a spontaneous vacation your options were limited to staying in the country because everywhere else you would need a visa.  But you didn’t have time for that so you both settled on picking the earliest flight you would find at the airport when you arrived. 

You point to the board. “Seems like it’s gonna have to be New York” you say as it’s the earliest flight out of San Francisco at 4 am. 

Taehyung follows your finger. “That’s easy then. I live there. We don’t even need to find a hotel” 

“Well now you get to go home” you smile at him. 

He uses his free hand and places it on your other cheek as he pulls you in to kiss your temple. “You’re my home silly. My home is where you are” 

“See when you say things like that I don’t know what to do with myself. But  you’re my home too” you admit daringly, not shying away at all. 

He chuckles as he looks down at you. “I am never going to stop saying things like this. Ever. Because I am allowed to say them to you. If not you then who?” he grins from ear to ear. 

“Kim Taehyung, if only you could see inside my heart and my mind and know how you make me feel” you sigh. 

“I can see it on your face y/n. I don’t need anything else to know that” he pauses, the look in his eyes softening ever so slightly at seeing your lips quiver in a smile. That’s all he really needs to know what you feel. “Now, are you okay with New York?” he asks, directing both of your attention to more urgent matters because even he knows both of you could go on for hours about how much you love each other.

“It’s the earliest one, plus I have never been so it’s as good as any other place. Let's hope they have seats” you shrug. 

After deciding on New York, Taehyung goes to the check in desk while you wait behind. You watch as he speaks with the lady at the desk and after a moment her eyes are scanning the screen in front of her. She looks up at him with a smile and then he turns over his shoulder with a grin and throws you a thumbs-up. 

You immediately feel giddy at the prospect of going to New York with Taehyung and seeing the Rockefeller Centre, Central Park, Statue of Liberty, Times Square and the Empire State Building. You haven’t told him but you’ve held this fantasy of kissing him at the top of the Empire State Building ever since you got together.

He comes back with two boarding passes and tickets and hands one to you. “Lets go!” he says excitedly with a sparkle in his eyes as he naturally holds your hand. 

“We’re really doing this?” you ask as you beside him disbelief painted on your face. 

“I told you I would take you anywhere y/n and I meant it. Next time I am gonna take you on a real-out-of-the-country vacation. I promise” he looks down at you, a boxy smile ever present on his face as he squeezes your hand. 

The waiting area is almost empty save for a few people here and there. You lie with your head in his lap, his denim jacket serving as a blanket on your feet as you are reading the Blood of the Elves-- the book that The Witcher is based on, a fact you didn't know until two weeks ago when Taehyung mentioned it. You practically freaked out and the next day a package of the series was waiting for you on your desk at work. 

Taehyung runs his hands through your hair, too immersed in his own book. You pull down the novel to your chest and read the title of his book as it hovers above you. 

“The subtle art of not giving a fuck” you mumble. 

Taehyung’s face emerges from behind the book upon hearing you say that. “It’s a very good read” he closes the book.

“I hate non-fiction stuff” you reply. 

“I know” he bends and places a soft peck on your lips. “Listen, I have something to give you” 

“Oh?” you lift yourself off him and slide your legs over the edge of the seats and straighten up next to him. He rummages through his carry on and pulls out a piece of rolled paper with a red tie around it. 

He holds it out for you. “Open it” 

You take it from him, the texture of the paper soft against your fingers. You carefully untie the red string and the paper unfolds partially. You roll it back, eyes widening and mouth dropping open. “Taehyung….” you look at him .

“Do you like it?” he asks softly almost like he’s nervous that you won’t. 

“I- I love it. When did you draw this?” you ask as you look down to admire the art-- rather your face which is staring back at you as a black and white sketch. 

“I had some spare time” you look up to find him grinning at you. 

“No one has ever done anything like this for me” you blink up at him, realizing for the first that he’s done things for you no one has-- he made you a playlist, helped you swim, and now he’s made you a sketch. “Why?” you question softly. 

“Because you’re art y/n. To me you are the most beautiful piece of art. You take my breath away and I am catastrophically and hopelessly in love with you.” 

“Kim Taehyung you… are...” you whisper as you stare at him in awe and disbelief, a smile pulling at your lips. You tug him towards you by the neckline of his t-shirt and then press your lips on his. You kiss him like you’ve never kissed anyone before. It feels like you’re drowning in your feelings for him and the only air you need is the touch of his lips against yours. When you pull back  Taehyung’s ears are beet red, and his lips are stained pink by your lip gloss. 

“I love you too, y/n” he looks at you with a fond look in his eyes. 

“I love you more” you reply. 

He gasps. “How dare you. I love you way more than you love me” 

Your voices fill the air as you continue to argue about who loves who more. 

You had no intention of being the seventeen year old you once were-- the one who could fall in love. But then Kim Taehyung waltzed into your life and made you feel like you were seventeen again. He made you fall in love with all of him. And you would gladly fall for him all over again if you were given the choice. 

Thank you so much for reading. if you liked it be sure to let me know! My ask box and DMs are open :) 

[spiderman-homecomeme]

nuts about you

It’s simple. Thirty days. All of November. No nutting allowed. Can Peter survive? A friends/roommates to lovers tale of stupid bets, sabotage, and most important of all, nuts. 

thotumn. day 11. free prompt day finale.

Thank you @spideysmjs​ for organizing this magical month for us!! Because I am TOO impatient, I’m posting this a day early (also to keep my tradition of not posting things at the right time). Enjoy this purely goofy adventure. 

--

Of all of the stupid ideas Peter and Ned have thought of in their ten-plus years of friendship, this one’s up there. 

Easily in the top three. 

No, it’s more than stupid. It’s ridiculous. It’s pointless. No one in their right mind actually thinks this is a good idea or that there’s any reason to do it. It’s an internet joke that’s too old, a meme that has no right being funny anymore. It’s run its course, and the guise of it raising awareness for anything other than the masturbation habits of penis-havers is complete and utter bullshit.

Again. It’s stupid.

Still, Peter Parker is not one to turn down a challenge, no matter how stupid. He’s nothing if not competitive. What can he say? If he won’t do it, who will?

This is what he considers as Ned lays it on the table for him.

All of November. Thirty days. 

Peter doesn’t know how the conversation even started or how they ended up betting against each other in the world’s most moronic challenge. All he knows is that Ned is more than convinced that Peter is weak and won’t last. In fact, he’s so convinced that he’s willing to bet money on it. His reasoning ends up being that Peter isn’t strong enough.

And Peter? Well, he’s convinced that he will make it, that he can survive an entire month without giving in to his desires to bust a nut, to beat his meat, etc. etc. And he, too, is willing to bet money—a stupid amount, maybe more than a hundred—on his own success and his friend’s failure. He doesn’t want to appear too cocky, but he’s more than a hundred percent sure he’s got this in the bag. Yeah, it’s thirty days of cutting out one of Peter’s favorite pastimes—if not the favorite—but there’s no doubt in his mind that he’s more than capable of practicing a little restraint. 

Still, confident as he is, there’s still that part of him that can’t help but dread the coming month the more and more he thinks about it. 

“So, definitely thirty days?” Peter asks, eyes narrowing in thought. He tries to appear casual, as if the idea of no release for that amount of time isn’t a big deal. It’s more for clarification. “November has thirty days?”

Ned scoffs. “Yeah. Thirty days.”

“Any strikes? Any free coupons?”

“Nope.” Ned shakes his head with a soul-crushing finality. “Why? You don’t think you can make it?” 

It’s Peter’s turn to scoff, face scrunching dramatically as he recoils. “What? No. I’m worried about you, man. What are you gonna do about Betty?” 

Ned fixes him with a deadpan stare, clearly not buying whatever bullshit Peter’s trying to peddle. “A bet is a bet. She will respect that.”

“How can I trust you, though?” Peter asks, eyes narrowing in slight accusation. “You’re always at her place. I mean, how’ll I know you’re not lying?”

Ned glares. “How can I trust you?”

Peter sputters, desperately thinking of ways to throw a reverse Uno at this situation. “Wha—I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m—I’m single, man.”

Ned blinks. Once. Twice. “Do we need to talk about Felicia?”

“That was—”

“Cindy?”

“Dude—”

“Johnny? Jessica? Gwen—”

“I get it. I get it—”

“Carlie? Oh—Debbie? Caleb! Then there was Angela—”

Peter’s expression contorts into one of confusion. “Angela?” He tilts his head, squinting, searching for any kind of memory. 

“Cute red head. You met her in line at Aldi.”

“Ahhh…” A knowing, borderline too-telling smile of recognition pulls at Peter’s lips. “Angela...” he sighs, almost dreamily. Okay, so maybe Ned has a point. But just because Peter enjoys the company of other people so much that he’s got his own version of Mambo No. 5, doesn’t mean he’s incapable of living without the warm touch of another human being or his hand. 

Peter freezes, glancing at his friend. “Okay. Well. What do you want me to do about that? It’s not like I’m gonna call any of them up or anything. I have some sense of self-control.”

Again, Ned blinks. 

“And besides, Felicia was freshman year… she’s our friend now. I don’t hook-up with her anymore.”

Another blink. “Dude.”

“Fine.” Peter huffs, whipping his phone out, eyes nearly rolling out of their sockets and onto the floor as he starts swiping through his contacts. “But I’m not deleting any of ‘em, okay?” 

“Peter…” 

“I’ll change their names! How ‘bout that?” 

A beat passes of silent, overtly-judgmental staring on Ned’s part. He huffs after another second, throwing his hands up in defeat. “Fine.” Then, his frown shifts into a nonchalant smirk. “Whatever makes it easier for you to lose and me to win.” 

“Please,” Peter scoffs. “I’m not the one with a girlfriend. You’re going down.” He tilts his head, narrowing his eyes, lips pursed in mock-contemplation as he points a finger. “Or I guess… Betty’s the one going down.”

Ned nearly chokes on his water holding back a snort. “Come on, man.”

Peter shrugs. 

“Okay, well, are you gonna change the contact name for your right hand, too?”

It’s Peter’s turn to spit out a laugh. 

But before he can even come up with another totally awesome comeback, he hears the jingling of keys, the clanking of locks as their roommate comes home after a long day of classes. All he sees is a flash of her curly hair before he’s tearing his gaze away from the front door, suddenly finding the pads of his thumbs to be pretty damn interesting. 

“Hey, MJ,” Ned greets casually, as if they weren’t just sorting out a bet where neither of them are allowed to orgasm for an entire month. 

“‘Sup.” Michelle flashes them a brief, closed-mouth grin as she makes for the refrigerator, swiping up some baby carrots and the brita filter. 

Really, the conversation from earlier should be done there. Nothing else needs to be said. Especially not in front of their roommate. 

But Peter can’t help himself. 

“Let’s shake on it,” he says, putting his hand out, knowing that the more he keeps talking, the more danger he’s in of saying too much. 

Ned takes it readily, eyes narrowed in determination. “Let’s.”

The corner of Peter’s lip twitches upward, but he holds it back. “No… Peanuts.”

“No walnuts.”

They have that understanding, speaking in the code that the two of them have just made up on the spot, something that Peter can’t help but feel pretty damn proud of. 

MJ glances between the two, carrot half-way to her mouth, frozen in place, brows pinched in suspicion. 

“Peter and I are giving up all nuts for the next month,” Ned says proudly, answering the question that she most certainly did not ask. 

“Cool.”

Ned throws a not-as-subtle-as-he-thinks-it-is wink across the table, giving a just as subtle thumbs up from behind one of his stray history books. 

Peter nods. 

“Why?” Michelle asks, her question—one that shouldn’t have been as much of a surprise at is was—causing them both to exchange wary glances. 

There’s a silence that follows, one that might clearly show that these two guys have no idea what kind of hole they’ve dug themselves into. Ned watches Peter expectantly. Peter glares back. 

“Is it like a health thing?” MJ offers, popping another carrot into her mouth.

Peter nods a little too quickly. “Yeah. Health stuff.” His stomach flips when her gaze meets his, her eyes squinting as she chews thoughtfully. 

“May thinks Peter might have a nut allergy,” Ned hastily spits out. When both sets of eyes land on him, he laughs. “So his allergist suggested going a month without ‘em. To see if that makes it better.”

And honestly, Peter thinks that’s a pretty damn good save. 

The best part is that MJ seems to buy it. She nods. “So why are you doing it, Ned?”

“Solidarity,” Ned offers quickly. 

Nice save. 

“Ah,” MJ purses her lips, though she still doesn’t seem to care all that much. “Well, good luck. I guess. I know how much you guys… love… nuts? I guess?”

Peter nods solemnly. 

When she turns back to grab a cup from the cabinet, he throws Ned a quick single nod.

Well played.

--

“So, Peter’s doing no nut November.”

Felicia nearly chokes, snorting as she struggles to keep her vanilla latte in her mouth. “What?” She asks after a dangerous second. They were supposed to be having a nice study sesh, reading about Bloom’s taxonomy, not talking about Peter’s nut habits. 

“He and Ned made a stupid bet to see who could last the whole month,” MJ answers, taking a quiet sip of her London Fog. “Apparently they bet a lot of money on it.”

Felicia’s face scrunches in amused confusion. “Why?”

“Do they really need a reason to do dumb shit?” 

Considering that for a second, Felicia nods with a satisfied frown. “Fair.”

“I bet against Peter, though,” MJ continues. “After he left, I made Ned let me in on it. There’s no way Pete can last the whole month, right? Not even a week.”

“Oh, definitely not,” Felicia vehemently shook her head. “I honestly feel like he’d spontaneously combust after, like, a day.” Then, she lets out a quiet snort. “Combust a nut.”

Michelle wrinkles her nose. “Ew.”

“But for real. He’s not gonna make it.”

“That’s what I said. Ned seems to have some faith in him though—no idea why. I told him that Peter wouldn’t even last a week… and now I guess I’m involved.”

“This would be so easy to sabotage though.”

“Right?” 

“Seriously,” Felicia snorts. “All I’d have to do is hit him up one more time and he’s gone.” And then, in that next instant, her face lights up like a Christmas tree. “That’s it!” Before she says anything else, she’s pulling her phone out, quickly scrolling through, looking for God knows what. “Girl, I am gonna win that bet for you.” 

MJ leans forward, curious, yet still cautious. She’s not sure if Peter hooking up again with Felicia is the best idea, given that relations within the friend group would just make things a giant, tangled up mess of complicated awkwardness. “How?” Michelle dares to ask, craning her neck to see what the hell Felicia’s doing on her phone. 

Her friend is quiet for a moment, locked in concentration on her screen, bottom lip tucked between her teeth, brows knit together. Then, she cracks a satisfied, sly smile, turning her phone to show MJ just what she was looking for. 

Simply; a picture of Felicia’s relatively new tattoo which, in and of itself, doesn’t seem like it would get Peter’s peter going. It’s pretty. Floral. Nothing to lose one’s mind over. 

No, it’s more the placement. 

It’s a tasteful shot, the simple flowers lining the underside of her breasts, her hands acting as makeshift pasties, just barely covering her nipples. 

Still, though there’s no actual nudity, it’s enough to make MJ’s eyes bug out of her head for a moment before she’s realizing what she’s looking at. 

“Okay. So?” Michelle waits for an explanation. 

“I send him this,” Felicia says simply, pulling her phone back and (seemingly) drafting up the very message. “Ask if he wants a closer look at it.” 

Michelle considers it a moment, knowing that there’s a very strong chance that Peter could almost immediately fall into such an obvious trap. The corners of her lips twitch into a casual frown. She shrugs. “Honestly. Yeah. That might work.” 

“Might?” Felicia almost scoffs. 

“You’re a genius.”

A smirk tugs at Felicia’s mouth as she leans back in her chair, swiping up to send the message before putting the phone down on the table. “I know.”

They sit in silence, the two of them watching the screen with bated breath. They both gasp when the read receipt pops up, followed by a dead silence. MJ can only imagine how stressed that boy must be, opening his phone, thinking it’s an innocent text from Felicia, then BAM, he’s vibe-checked by her boobs instead. 

She holds back a snort, her stomach jumping into her throat seeing the dot-dot-dot pop up at the bottom of the screen. It’s almost as if she forgets to breathe, waiting to see what he’s going to say to such a blatant come on. 

It’s like he’s typing a damn novel with how long it’s taking him though, and Michelle’s not sure she can take it much longer. 

And then, her phone dings. 

Felicia’s lips pull into a frown reading the message. “‘Wow. Looks cool! No thanks, though.’ Aaaaand,” she spins her phone for MJ to read it. “Thumbs-up emoji. Smiley face with sunglasses.”

Even MJ’s surprised at that response. Maybe Peter is really taking this No Nut November thing seriously. Maybe he’s not as weak as she thought. But… it doesn’t make any sense. Nothing’s adding up. 

And with this confusion, there’s a sense of relief, knowing his response. Waiting wasn’t fun. 

“Huh.” Felicia sighs, biting her lip in thought as she starts typing out another message and sending it. 

“What did you say?” Michelle asks. 

“I told him I’d been thinking about getting my nipples pierced and wanted to know what he thought.” 

At that, Michelle snorts. “You’re an evil woman.” 

Felicia shrugs innocently. “I think he’d really like ‘em.”

Truly, it’s a genius move. It’s something that Peter has to address; Felicia’s nipples. The idea of them being pierced. It’s too much for his brain to handle. 

And again, just like before, they get into a staring contest with the conversation, watching as the read receipt pops up again, immediately followed by the ever-cruel ellipses as Peter no doubt struggles with a response that’s not too-eager. 

But then, he completely throws them for another loop. 

“‘I support you, friend!’ with…” Her eyes narrow. “A smiley face.” 

“Wow,” Michelle says, genuinely surprised. 

And Felicia seems just as shocked, if not a little offended that one of her oldest tricks in the book seem to have no effect whatsoever. “Did he just… friendzone me?” She asks, absolutely appalled.

“You were already friends before?” Michelle laughs. 

“But in this context?” She huffs, shaking her head. A beat passes where all she does is stare at her phone. “That’s weird,” she says slowly, lips quirking into a confused frown. “Huh.” 

“There, there,” Michelle deadpans, patting her friend stiffly on the hand. 

Felicia laughs. “It’s fine…” She draws out. “A hit to the ego is good for me every once in a while.”

“Oh my God,” MJ rolls her eyes. “You’re still hot. Don’t worry.” 

With a sad, a little over-dramatic nod, Felicia’s frown deepens as she pretends to wipe at her eyes. “Yeah. I am.” 

“I can’t believe that didn’t work,” MJ muses. Really, she can’t. Peter’s perhaps the easiest person she knows—and there’s nothing wrong with that at all; it’s just a fact of life. The sky is blue. Grass is green. Peter is a thot.

“I guess he’s really following through with this whole no nut thing…” Felicia’s brow furrows as she recoils. “How much money did he bet anyway?”

“A hundred.” 

“Oh my God.”

“Yeah.” 

“How much did you put in?” 

“...A hundred.”

“MJ!”

“Listen!” Michelle reasons, holding her hands up in defense. “This is gonna be the easiest two hundred dollars I’ve ever made.”

Felicia sits back, clearly impressed. “Does Peter know you’re in on it?”

“Nope,” MJ says, emphasizing the ‘p’ with an audible pop. 

“Well—” Felicia starts, shifting in her seat, crossing one leg over the other. “—I’m sure you’ll find some way to make that boy give in. Sorry I couldn’t help.”

Michelle lets out a light snort. “It’s okay. You tried.” 

“If I think of anything else, I’ll let you know.”

But honestly, MJ already has a vague idea of what her next step is. 

And it brings her to his bedroom, to his desk, messing with his laptop while he’s out for his Sunday patrol. His password is entirely too easy to guess—really, you’d think a guy as smart as Peter would have something a little more complicated than “webshooter69.” 

If there’s anything she knows about Peter—maybe a little too much about her friend—is that while he mostly enjoys the company of a flesh and blood human being, he’s not above the occasional perusing of adult websites. 

The guy likes porn. 

The plan is to make his chrome homepage one of his regular sites. Confront him with the images that really get him going. 

She browses through his history, hoping that he hadn’t thought to delete everything or go incognito. And… luckily for her, that particular idea seemed to have slipped his mind entirely. Literally not even a week out and she’s found a slightly-more-than-nefarious-looking website. 

Easy enough. 

And it’s exactly what she’s looking for. Nudity galore. There doesn’t seem to be a corner of the site that doesn’t have a boob or a butt. It is truly Peter’s domain.

For a moment, she wonders if she should make the homepage specifically something he searches for… his favorite genre perhaps. 

She shakes the thought away immediately. It’s too invasive. Besides, the front page should be more than enough—there’s literally a video that frustratingly autoplays every time she goes back to that one page. And why would she need to know what Peter likes? There’s no reason for that. At all. 

Making sure to close out of everything before logging out, she slams the laptop shut, sprinting out of his room as if he was just about to get home. Her heart races as she slams her own bedroom door behind her, catching her breath proving to be more difficult than usual. 

And now, she waits. 

It turns out, she doesn’t have to wait very long. 

That evening, in fact, after Peter’s come back for dinner. 

He takes his time microwaving his leftovers from the day before, whistling to himself as he bounces around the kitchen. The whole time it feels like MJ’s just holding her breath, anticipating his early demise the instant he opens up chrome on his laptop. And honestly, this does feel like a low blow, like she’s just snatching up that low-hanging fruit—God, MJ, phrasing—but then she’s reminded that this, again, is the easiest two hundred dollars she will ever earn. 

And then she feels a little less bad about what she’s done. 

The second he’s finished with his food and disappears into his room, her eyes are on his door, and then it occurs to her that there’s not really a way that she can know he’s, well, “lost.” It’s all based on his own honor, if he’ll admit to succumbing to his most basic need. She likes to think that he would, though. Peter’s too much of a good, honest guy—hiding his secret identity aside—that he couldn’t lie to his friends about it. 

Ned comes home not two minutes later, deflating on the other side of the couch. 

“Rough day?” MJ asks, the teasing hint to her tone not going unnoticed. 

Ned rolls his eyes. “Told Betty I was doing this whole month thing.”

MJ winced. “Yikes.”

“Yeah,” Ned chuckles. 

“Well, if it helps, this whole thing is probably gonna end in—” she checks her phone. “—five or so minutes.”

Ned’s gaze darts right and left. “What… What do you mean?” 

Before she can answer, Peter yelps from the other side of his door. There’s a loud crash that sounds suspiciously like a laptop being yeeted across the room in a hasty, knee-jerk reaction. Before either she or Ned can move, Peter’s bursting through his door, eyes blown wide, his face drained of all color, and he’s frozen in place, one hand gripping the doorframe. 

And it takes everything in her not to grin. “Everything okay?”

Peter coughs, scratching the back of his neck, before his gaze lands on Ned in a challenging glare. “DUDE. Not cool.”

Poor Ned looks as confused as ever, his jaw dropping, brows pinching together as he glances between the two. “I—What—what are you talking about?”

Peter narrows his eyes even more. 

“Did I hear something break?” MJ asks carefully, as not to seem too suspicious. 

He startles at her voice, sputtering out a response that mostly sounds like the macaroni glue art of sentences. “Oh—uh—no. It—It was the—the laptop. There was—a thing. And—I just kinda—threw it.” He laughs nervously. “It’s fine though. Not—not broken. All good—” He throws some finger guns. “—in the hood.”

Her lips twist as she nods. 

Peter nods back, hands in his back pockets as he starts to retreat back into his room—though not before throwing another I’m watching you glare at Ned. 

As soon as the door clicks shut, Ned’s in full interrogation mode. 

“MJ, what did you do?”

She shrugs, toying with the loose thread of her hoodie. “Nothing much. Just… Set his default homepage to some porn. No biggie.”

Ned’s jaw drops, thoroughly scandalized, but there’s a hint of amusement behind his eyes. “Dude… That’s evil.”

Michelle gives another shrug. 

So, her second plan had failed. Even after surprise-porn, Peter’s still in the running. He’s still holding out. Almost a two days into November, and he is surviving, a surprise to everyone involved, and already, MJ’s running out of ideas. Well, good—plausible ideas. There are plenty of ways she’s sure she could compromise him. Take him to a strip-club maybe, but there’s not a doubt in her mind that he’d be able to pick up on what she was doing. There’s no way he’d fall for it. 

Hiring an escort was definitely out of the question. 

Theoretically, both of those could work. Were they good plans? No. Absolutely not. 

He’s already turned down a previous hook-up. He broke his laptop out of the sheer panic that seeing porn brought him. 

There doesn’t seem to be much more that she can do. 

It’s not until the next day, as she’s walking the clothing section of Target with Felicia that she’s struck with an idea. 

Felicia specifically striking her with said idea. 

They’re in the middle of the sleepwear section, MJ mindlessly rifling through the fuzzy sock bin, when she nearly collides with the underwear display. She’s distracted for a moment, wondering if it’s too soon since she’s bought new underwear to justify taking advantage of the sale, when Felicia nudges her with her elbow. 

“Peter’s really into pretty underwear,” she says as if they’re not in the middle of Target. As if there’s not a mom and two kids in the actual pajama section two displays over. 

Michelle recoils slightly, startled. “What?” 

“He’s like, really into it,” she says, taking a casual sip of her iced coffee, reaching over to pick up a particularly lacy number. “Just saying. Might be useful.”

For some reason, MJ feels a strange heat rise to her cheeks. “I’m not gonna put these on for him!”

Felicia smirks, holding a hand up in defense. “Who said anything about you wearing it? You can just… leave it lying around for him to find, or something.” She tilts her head to the side, both brows raising. “Jeez, MJ.”

“Oh…” Michelle says, though her face still burns. “Right.” 

It’s not a bad idea. In fact, it’s pretty good. If Peter’s as into fancy underwear as Felicia says he is, then maybe leaving them around like some kind of weird scavenger hunt is the best plan. She doesn’t buy much, picking a pair of relatively cheap lace and polyester. She could use her own underwear for this, but… that would be weird right?

(As if this isn’t weird enough already.)

And besides, the ones she’s buying are a little more extra in that department. They aren’t meant to be worn for long, not from comfort. 

They’re perfect. 

She feels like some kind of underwear fairy, planting them somewhere in the apartment, making sure they’re hidden, yet visible in a place that Peter frequents; it sticks up between the couch cushions, not subtle in the slightest. The second Peter’s butt hits that couch, he’ll see them. There’s no other way around it. 

It becomes another waiting game as she sits in the living chair, knees curled into her chest as she pretends to read quietly. It’s pretend because she can’t focus long enough on any single letter to let her brain absorb anything on the pages. Finally, the front door opens. Peter greets her with a cheery smile, making immediately for the kitchen. 

Good. Yes. He gets his after class snack. Important. 

Just as she’d planned. 

He emerges not two minutes later, bag of cheese crackers in hand as he launches himself over the back of the couch. “‘Sup?” he asks after shoving a mouthful of Cheez-its into his face. 

Michelle wrinkles her nose, her eyes unconsciously darting between the guy on the couch and the panties peeking out from the cushions. “Reading,” she offers, brandishing the very unread book.

Peter nods, tearing his gaze from hers after a beat and reaching for the remote. When he sits back, his hand brushes the cheap lace and he pauses, curious as he looks down to see what he touched. 

All of this while MJ desperately pretends not to notice. 

When he picks the pair up though, his brows pinch together, at first unsure as to what he’s actually looking at. “Uh…” 

At that, MJ looks up, seeing right as the realization sets in. 

Of course, she plays dumb—by staying silent. 

Peter quickly looks to her, eyes wide as if he’s seen a ghost. “It’s—it’s not—these aren’t—” His lips press together as he forces a breath through his nose. “I—Oh god—”

And then, for a split-second, she feels the slightest bit guilty. Is this actually a good plan or is she just tricking him into getting a boner over cheap department store undies? That, and is she technically lying to him by not claiming the offending undergarments? By making him freak out over nothing?

He seems to be having some sort of existential crisis, wondering if these really are from some recent hook-up and the psychological effect of not nutting in three days has caused him to forget. 

This was a terrible idea.

She has to put him out of his misery. 

“Oh, shit. Those—” Her laugh is breathy, short. “—Those are mine.” 

And instantly, Peter drops the thong, as if his hands had been burned. “Oh!” he coughs, his gaze straining as if he’s trying to keep his eyes on her face. “S—Sorry.” He swallows.

“Yeah.” Rising on legs that are shaky—from sitting so oddly in the chair for so long—she goes to snatch up the baby pink lace, clutching it behind her back before Peter can get another look. “Sorry. Must’ve forgot. Uh, when I did… Laundry.”

Peter nods, breathing out a chuckle. “Yeah. Yeah. S’fine.” He waves her off, scratching the back of his neck. 

But even after that, Peter still seems off. For some reason, he still doesn’t seem to be able to look at her for more than a split-second. He doesn’t say anything else, sitting in silence, his cheese crackers long forgotten on the coffee table. 

Michelle wonders if she should say something else. Break the tension. It’s awkward, obviously, because he feels weird about touching his friend’s underwear. Anyone would, really. He touched something that theoretically would be on her body; something that normally, he thinks is really sexy, or whatever. 

After another minute of some good old soul-crushing silence, Peter stands, excusing himself to his room without another word. 

Huh. Weird.

--

It’s the movie night that finally gives her that clarity she’s been looking for; that moment where everything clicks into place, and she can finally see how she’s going to win this. 

Ned’s out with Betty, leaving her and Peter alone not for the first time. 

She and Peter are sitting on the couch together, her head resting on his shoulder—because that’s what friends do, obviously—the two of them sharing a gray fuzzy blanket. This is a normal occurrence. They’re close enough in their friendship that some occasional cuddling isn’t too weird. Especially given how chilly it’s been lately. And, it’s comfy. Just some nice head-to-shoulder contact. 

But later in the movie, when MJ starts to get dangerously sleepy, feeling herself drooping further and further, unable to completely pull herself back to reality. Things are fuzzy, almost dreamlike, as she just pulls herself up from his shoulder, giving up entirely on watching the movie and just grumpily laying down right on his lap, his thigh her make-shift pillow.

This isn’t weird. 

It’s normal.

She’s sleepy.

And Peter’s a surprisingly comfy pillow.

Peter doesn’t even have time to ask what she’s doing before she’s just nestling further into his lap. She misses the pure dread and panic that flashes across his face when her head lines up with his head. There’s no safety here. Just a few wrong movements, and she’ll definitely know what’s up. She’ll be an unwitting tourist to Boner City, population: one. 

Peter has to do something. He can’t let this continue. Having his best friends head just straight up on his crotch is not helpful in the slightest. 

“MJ,” he gently nudges her, grimacing slightly when she just burrows further into him. 

He nudges her again, and she grumbles, finally opening her eyes and looking up at him. She puts a hand on his thigh to steady herself. 

Peter swallows. 

“What?” She asks, not opening her eyes.

“I uh—” Peter can’t seem to speak, trying desperately to come up with some excuse as to why he has to get the fuck out of there. “—I gotta pee.”

She cracks an eye open skeptically. “But I’m comfy,” she emphasizes her point by—once again—snuggling her face into his lap. 

Peter’s about to lose his damn mind. 

In MJ’s defense, this had started with the best intentions. She truly was just wanting to lay down and sleep on her friends lap—again, a perfectly normal thing—but now… even through the haze of sleep, she’s seeing how much this is effecting him. 

It hadn’t occurred to her until now, that she could be the one that makes him “crack.” They’re just friends. Sure, she thinks he’s attractive, and yeah, maybe she’s had the one or two or three sexy dreams about him before (even some soft, fluffy ones), but that doesn’t mean she thinks about him in that way. 

He's just Peter.

Sweet, adorable, kinda hot Peter.

Again, she doesn't think about him that way.

But she supposes it makes sense. Really, she should have known before putting her head on his crotch that he might get a little flustered from the proximity, that it might remind him of certain things. It's just the body's physiological reaction to a stimulus; the stimulus being her head. It's simple science.

So then, it would also only make sense for her to take advantage of that physiological response she's able to get out of him. Maybe not right at this second, given she's been a little blindsided by this whole thing. But maybe now she can rethink her gameplan. Now she has access to tools she didn't know she had access to before.

Her own sensuality.

She can certainly use that.

And it's not as if she'll do anything too out there. Just... make him feel the heat—the pressure—just a little bit. Make him sweat.

Felicia's of course delighted by this development, giving her full support in "seducing Parker into busting a nut."

(Her words, not MJ's.)

She'd also said something about how it's about time, but that'd been promptly ignored—mainly because MJ didn't know what the hell Felicia was talking about.

The problem is now, though, Michelle's not exactly sure where to start. After Peter had made a dead sprint to the bathroom the night before, he's been a little more, shall we say, cautious, around her. He bounces on his feet, trying desperately to appear casual, acting as if nothing was weird about their movie night.

She only has three days left in the week, so she has to think.

And fast.

--

Peter's not sure if MJ's up to something, but he can't help but feel as though she's acting... strange. First, the underwear thing, which made him feel all kinds of flustered and weird, and then her head being dangerously close to his dick. It's a lot. She can't possibly know about this No Nut thing, right? She wasn't there, and Ned wouldn't have told her... right?

Still, he tries to avoid her as much as he can, ready to fly away the second she's in the same room as him.

Truthfully, he's always had maybe the tiniest crush on his best friend. It's faded in and out over the years, especially in their college years. But it's always been there, even if just the ghost of one. And now, he's starting to see maybe how bad of an idea this was in the first place—No Nut November. His roommate is literally probably the prettiest person in the world and he's being constantly reminded of the one thing he definitely should not be thinking about under any circumstances if he wants to win. It's a disaster that should have never happened in the first place. This could have been prevented, he thinks.

He's not sure how he didn't think about that when he'd agreed to do this.

He just knows that he has to do something, though he's not sure what.

But any and all ideas of how to protect himself instantly leave his mind, crashing his brain, when he comes back to the apartment the next day to find it sweltering. He looks at the thermostat, thoroughly confused to find the heater set to eighty. He peels off his jacket, recoiling when the humid air sticks to his skin. It's hot. Too hot. Even for early November. It's not that cold outside.

He's about to call out for his roommates when MJ emerges from her room, and he feels like he has to pick his jaw up from the floor.

Her shorts are too short for it being fall. They show too much of her legs for his eyes to not be immediately drawn to them. Her white tank top is tight against her skin, hugging her form in a way that almost makes him jealous. And then, it's almost too much, too dangerous, when he can very clearly tell that she's apparently decided to forgo a bra for the evening.

"Oh, hey Pete!" She says, as if she's not looking like that.

"Hey—hey. Em..." He clears his throat.

Dear God. It's been less than a week. Hold it together.

"Is it..." Peter swallows. "Is it hot in here? The—the heat? Is it—is it on?"

MJ's eyes widen a fraction.

"Oh, yeah. It is," she replies casually. "Is that okay? I was just a little cold."

"So you turn it up to—" Peter stops, craning his neck to look at the thermostat on the wall. "—eighty-two?"

She glances left and right, as if there's nothing wrong with that temperature whatsoever. "Yeah," she says with a nonchalant shrug, her lips tugging into a frown. After a beat, she lets out a faint snort, apparently finding something particularly funny, before turning to the fridge. She opens the freezer, sighing as the cool air hits her face.

Peter doesn't realize he's staring as she reaches in, pulling out a box from the top shelf. When he sees what's in the box, he knows that his doom is near. It's bright, colorful. It's popsicles. He has to leave immediately if he knows what's good for him, if he has any sense of sanity left. She grabs a crinkling wrapper from inside the box, casually whipping it out. She holds one out to him.

"Want one?" She offers.

Peter can only shake his head, swallowing a near-silent, voice-cracking, "Nope."

And it's at this point, as she shuts the freezer door, as she starts peeling the wrapper off the way-too-phallic popsicle, that he knows he should run. It's not safe here.

But he's frozen in place, trying to burn his gaze into the intricacies of the granite countertops, tapping his fingers in an erratic rhythm.

He's an idiot, for sure, because he looks up at exactly the wrong time, right as she wraps her lips around the tip of the pop, her eyes meeting his for a fraction of a second.

How can it only be eighty-two in here? 

Thankfully, he gains some sense, tearing himself away from the counter and going over to actually turn down the thermostat. "Is it okay if I—" He coughs. "—Turn this back down?"

"Sure." MJ doesn't stop him. She wets her lips, hiding her satisfied smirk by taking the popsicle deeper into her mouth.

But again, he makes the fatal mistake of looking at her again, because now... well, now she's just messing with him. She has to be.

No one eats a popsicle like that.

When he thinks it can't get worse, she has the fucking audacity to hum as she pushes it further into her mouth. "This is so good," she says, half-way a moan.

Who actually says that about a fucking popsicle?

It's evil, truly it is, because it makes him imagine her swirling her tongue around it inside her mouth, and suddenly, the tightness in his pants gets even more uncomfortable.

He hurries to somewhere else in the kitchen, pouring himself a nice glass of water. It's still too hot in here. MJ sidesteps him easily, still inappropriately eating—sucking off—her popsicle. And he nearly chokes, because as his eyes meet hers again, she takes the damn thing out of her mouth—he thinks he's safe, but oh no—she slips her tongue out, licking a long stripe up the base, swirling it around the tip before taking it into her mouth again.

"What?" She asks—she fucking asks—when he can't look away.

And unsurprisingly, Peter can't speak. Can't even get a single syllable out.

"Is my tongue red?" She asks, sticking said tongue out that was just seconds before all over the popsicle.

"I'm gonna go hop in the shower," Peter spits out, dropping his water in the sink and making a mad dash to the bathroom, not waiting for a response.

A shower is what he needs right now.

A nice, cold shower.

He needs to take a deep breath. Think of not sexy things. Things that don't make his life out to be a bad porno.

Then, he needs to leave. Hide in the forest. Live among the trees, away from temptation, until November is over. Only then can he be at peace.

That's it!

Trees. Nature. Forests. Cold. Snow. MJ in the snow. Kissing MJ in the snow—NO.

NO.

He slams the bathroom door, leaning back against it. He heaves out a shaky sigh, running a hand over his face in frustration. How he can possibly survive the rest of the month, he has no idea.

MJ has to be messing with him, right? There’s absolutely no way in hell she’s not doing this on purpose. And why? Why is she torturing him like this? What has Peter ever done in his life to deserve this torment? It isn’t fair. 

No matter how desperately he wants to take care of the not-so-little problem in his jeans, he holds himself back, clenching every muscle in his body as he switches on a very cold shower. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to will the image of Michelle—his best friend and roommate—eating a popsicle out of his mind. It has absolutely no right to be there. 

And still, as Peter stands under the stream of freezing water, letting it run down his back and front as he holds himself up with one hand, he can’t help but think that the worst is yet to come. That somehow, someway, MJ would top simulating a blow job on an ice pop. He doesn’t know how she’d do it, but he knows it’s coming. 

He must be ready. 

--

Not to MJ’s surprise, Peter avoids her the rest of the day. He keeps his head down, not daring to even glance up at her as he walks past. Weirdly enough, this is a good sign. It confirms her hypothesis that her actions can have some sort of an effect on him. It helps her to know what to do next. 

And, well…

She’d be lying if she said it weren’t at least a little bit thrilling. 

There’s something deep inside her that finds all of this so interesting, so amusing. She wants to know how far she can go, how hard she can push before he cracks under the pressure. And the fact that it’s her that has all this power over him—it’s certainly a revelation. 

But still, even if this is “fun,” she can be professional about this. She would never let it get “too far,” whatever that would be. No, the goal here isn’t to seduce her way into Peter’s pants, but to seduce him—innocently—enough that he just does it to himself. 

Her next plan might be a little more unfair, a little more direct, and perhaps a little more daring than the last one. 

And—she should add—much more difficult than she had anticipated. 

For one, she just can’t seem to get the right angle, holding her phone above her body, making sure to get both the underside of her breasts—a tasteful amount of boob, thank you very much—and the same cheap, pretty pink undies she bought from Target. It’s awkward, tilting and twisting her phone, her thumb just barely reaching the shutter button. The first few shots aren’t anything to be particularly proud of. Too blurry, her arm cramping up from holding the camera up so long. This isn’t something she’s really done before, given she’s never seen the appeal. Why send pics when you could just, you know, show them the real thing? 

But for some reason, it makes her heart climb into her throat, makes her face almost unbearably warm. 

It’s when she changes her positioning on her bed, finding some nice light filtering in from the early evening sun. Golden hour has always proven to be exceptionally kind to her. She finds a decent pose, covering both breasts with her forearm, arching her back, making sure to get that perfect “booty tooch” that would make Tyra proud. She breathes out in an attempt to cool her heated nerves, parting her lips in a way that’s sure to incite some kind of reaction. 

Click. 

And then, she’s got the shot. 

Okay, technically it’s not a nude, but there’s something about the idea of sending this picture to Peter of all people that gets her stomach twisting in knots. 

And as her hand hovers over the send button, her heart hammers in her chest, hesitation holding her still. She takes her bottom lip in her teeth, beginning to wonder if this is the best idea. Her plan had been to send the picture, play it off as some kind of mistake, and hope that he goes to… take care of himself. Sure, it might get a reaction out of Peter—one big enough that causes him to give up this whole no nut thing—but it almost feels as if she’s crossing some kind of line. 

Miming a blow job on a popsicle was one thing—one that she can’t decide if she’s proud of or not. That was just a performance. It wasn’t something she was doing to Peter. This—sending him a racy picture when he’s literally in the next room—is a direct interference. 

Plus, there’s no telling what this would do to their friendship. It could ruin everything. Catastrophically. 

Awkward would be an understatement. 

She puts her phone face down on the mattress, avoiding the picture all together, before getting up and pulling on one of her comfy robes. 

God, all of this was a terrible idea. 

Wallowing in her own self-pity and regret, she flops back down onto the bed, grabbing her phone with the intention of deleting the picture once and for all. It’s still there in the text conversation, just waiting to be sent. She scoffs, shaking her head at herself, only for her heart to stop in her chest when—in her frazzled state—she hits “send” instead of that little “x.”

“SHIT.” 

No no no no no NONONONONO.

She drops her phone immediately, wrapping her robe tighter around herself as she scrambles for her bedroom door, nearly tripping over her rug in the process. 

Peter’s sitting on the couch, blissfully unaware, when his phone pings. And to Michelle’s utter horror, he picks it up. 

“NO!” MJ shouts, jumping on top of him. It’s a futile attempt really, seeing as her best friend—she stupidly forgets—is an actual superhero. 

Peter yelps as she pushes him down into the couch, tumbling onto the floor, holding his phone away from her grabby hands as she straddles his hips. “What the fuck—” And while he could push her off of him with a ridiculous amount of ease, he stills, becoming suddenly aware of their precarious position. 

“Gimme your phone!” Her voice comes out in a half-plea, half-demand. All panic. 

Peter still holds it away from her, his own brand of panic flashing across his features when his other hand naturally falls at her hip. He yanks it away, instead holding her back by the shoulder. “Why?”

It’s also then that he sees what she’s wearing—or rather, what she isn’t wearing. 

And in his distraction, Michelle snatches his phone, instinctively throwing it across the room. She winces apologetically when he looks up at her, jaw dropped and brow wrinkled. 

“What the hell, MJ—”

“—I’m sorry! I panicked!”

“Why?!”

“I—”

It’s then, as they both stare at each other in shock, that they both realize the position they’re in—but neither of them seem to be able to move away, frozen solid on the living room floor. 

Peter can feel his heart beating relentlessly in his ears, his throat suddenly going dry when he notices how tightly Michelle’s thighs are holding him in place. Another problem starts to arise when he sees how her cotton robe is pooled around their aligned hips, his eyes catching the sliver of shiny pink underwear when one side falls back. “What—” He clears his throat, his voice coming out uncharacteristically breathy. “—What was on my… my phone?”

“Uh—” She presses her lips together. “A picture.”

Peter’s gaze drifts lower for a split second, dipping to the exposed dip in her chest, drawn to the rise and fall with each breath. “Of?” 

“Me?”

“You?”

MJ breathes out a laugh, glancing down. “I, uh—accidentally sent… You a picture. Well—I meant to send it to you, not that like, it wasn’t for you, but I kinda decided not to send it… and then… I did. Accidentally.” 

And even though he’s trying everything in his power to keep his eyes on her face, he can’t help the way they seem to travel lower and lower with each second. He’s confused at first, but then, it hits him, like a train, what exactly that picture was. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

The air crackles between them, static in their ears. Michelle finds her own gaze drifting lower, lingering on his parted lips, a warmth pooling in the pit of her stomach. She shifts slightly, her breath catching as she suddenly feels the hardness pressing into the inside of her thigh. Peter stares up at her, something in his eyes bringing her closer, inch by inch. The warmth and weight of both of his hands tentatively, slowly moving to her waist causes something to ignite within her, and in a split-second, her lips are on his. 

Michelle’s surprised to find herself… well—surprised—at how this kiss doesn’t immediately turn into an all tongue-and-teeth, ripping-eachother’s-clothes-off kiss. It’s sweet. Slow and tender—as if the two of them are savoring it. Nothing like she’d expected Peter to be capable of. Nothing like how he’d painted himself to be from all of his hook-up stories. 

And she’s not entirely sure who’s “fault” it is when it turns into more. 

It could be the way she’s subtly grinding her hips against his, her body alight with the friction. 

It could be how his tongue swipes over her bottom lip, innocently at first. 

It could be her soft, breathy whines as one of his hands moves lower to cup her ass, pulling her closer, the new angle against his hardness bringing an indescribable feeling. 

And then again, it could be her robe starting to fall off her shoulders—she’s not sure who starts that, but all of a sudden she’s feeling cool air on her skin. 

She almost smiles into the kiss, thinking about how easily and quickly this “chaste” kiss had shifted. 

And it’s immediately after that thought that she snaps out of it. 

“Wait!” She says, pulling back and sitting up—but still staying in Peter’s lap. Before this can go any further, she has to tell him the truth. He has to be able to… back out of it. 

Where this sudden sense of generosity’s come from, she has no idea. 

He follows, sitting up with her, brows creasing, his expression a concoction of worry and panic. “Oh, fuck. I’m so sorry—”

“No!” She puts a hand on his shoulder after fixing her robe. Her thumb smooths over the fabric of his shirt. “No. It’s… fine. I just…” Surprisingly, she finds herself chuckling, unable to bite back her smile as he looks at her with concern. 

“What is it, Em?” 

It’s the nickname for her nickname that does it for her. Truly. 

“You good?” He asks, wincing as she shifts in his lap again. 

“Yeah, uh—” She coughs, trying unsuccessfully to hide the way her lips are twitching violently as she fights her smile. It takes her more than a few moments, the deep breaths she’s taking not doing all that much to help mask the humor in her tone. “—I know about No Nut November.” 

At first, Peter’s confused, staring back at her with furrowed brows, his mouth in a cute little ‘o’. He tries to play dumb, maybe thinking that he can get away with one final attempt to save his pride—letting out a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his neck, he shrugs. “Yeah, my new diet. Crazy, huh?”

She blinks, blankly staring at him. “Peter.” There’s some amusement there, especially as she pointedly glances down to their current position. 

“What?” He asks dumbly. 

“Ned told me.”

Peter curses, wincing. “Damn it, Ned.”

“Yeah…” In a strange, very unwelcome bout of insecurity, Michelle removes her hands from Peter’s shoulders, twiddling her fingers together in front of her. “I made him tell me… and I kinda… also made him let me in on the bet.”

His eyes nearly bug out of his head. “What?!”

“We kinda made our own bet that like… If you lasted less than a week, I would get all the money.”

“You didn’t think I’d last a week?” Peter almost takes offense at that, even if there’s merit to her prediction. “Damn, MJ…”

“I mean… I also wanted to win. So… I kinda tried—or I guess have been trying… to sabotage you?” 

At that, his jaw drops. “No! Wait—You—What? I—” He stammers like that, his brain short-circuiting as she still watches from his lap. “That was—what? The porn? On my laptop?”

MJ nods, grimacing. 

“The… underwear? Just in the couch?” 

“Yeah…”

“And you were gonna…” He looks down at her, the cotton robe still just barely tied around her—the journey his eyes make also coinciding with his mouth going dry once again. “...That picture you took…?”

She nods again, looking down at her hands. 

“Putting your head on my lap?!” He asks, as if he of all people is scandalized. 

“That wasn’t part of the plan. That was kinda what helped me figure out that… I could just… do it myself.” 

“Oh my God,” he puts a hand on his face. “The popsicle. The fucking popsicle.”

“That was probably my best work, honestly.”

“That was so cruel.” 

And when he laughs, his eyes crinkling, she starts to see that maybe this will all be okay, and a sense of relief fills her chest. “Yeah, sorry. I also had Felicia help.” 

“You put her up to that?!” 

“Nah. She offered. I felt kinda weird about it—” She says the last part without realizing it, immediately shutting her mouth. 

“That’s why I said no,” Peter replies. 

It’s Michelle’s turn to be surprised. “What? Really? I thought it was just ‘cause you were so dedicated to this whole no nut thing.”

“I mean, yeah, I was but—” He laughs, reaching a hand up to smooth the curls at the base of his neck. “—I just… felt weird about it. With you guys being friends and all.” 

The way MJ’s heart flutters is strange, but not entirely unwelcome. “Why would that be weird?”

“Why did you think it’d be weird?” He throws back, his lips twisting into a curious grin. 

And not for the first time when talking to Peter, Michelle feels all knowledge of the English language leave her body. It’s strange, how much confidence she can have while literally dry-humping him on the living room floor, but how scared she can be trying to explain something about how she feels. 

She only shrugs. 

A beat passes, and still, Michelle can’t bring herself to move. 

“So…” Peter draws out after another moment. “All that—” he clears his throat. “—stuff… that was just to win that bet?” 

“Well, I mean—yeah?” The look of hurt on his face makes her heart lurch in her chest. She’s quick to correct herself. “But—I… I think maybe that could be a good thing.” 

His brows raise in careful curiosity, though he still seems apprehensive. “A good thing?” He asks slowly. 

Michelle nods, swallowing. “Uh—Yeah. ‘Cause… If I hadn’t then I wouldn’t have figured out that—um… I might—” It’s weird, how frustrating it is that she can’t seem to find the words she wants to say, that her brain seems to have completely abandoned her in her greatest, most dire time of need. And this shouldn’t be this hard. She’s an adult. She’s in her third year of college. 

Confessing the feelings that you’ve just realized you have for your best friend since high school should be easy right?

Right?

And she’s only just figured this out. In the last five seconds. That all these years of weird feelings, long glances, warm faces has actually lead to something, they’ve actually meant something other than a weird stomach bug or whatever. 

All it took was attempted sabotage during No Nut November for her to realize that. 

The power it has. 

“MJ?”

His voice grabs her attention; the caution in his tone snapping her gaze to his. And for a moment, she just looks at him, mouth hanging open as she tries to say something, anything. But still, she can’t.

So, she does the next best thing. 

She kisses him—again—trying her best to put all of the words she can’t seem to figure out into it. And although he kisses her back—easily—he doesn’t seem to understand what she means, because he pulls away not ten seconds later. 

“Listen—MJ—” Peter stammers, running a jittery hand through his hair as he breathes out a huff of laughter. “—I don’t think I can do—” He gestures between the two of them. “—This… if it’s just… casual.” 

So, he really didn’t get it, and now, she’s feeling the impatience creeping up her neck. 

“I really like you, MJ,” he confesses, and for a moment, she’s not sure if she heard him right, or if she heard him speak at all. Her brain must be playing some nasty, cold-hearted trick on her, because Peter—perpetually single and ready to mingle Peter—just said that he liked her. 

God, she feels like she’s a teenager again. It feels so high school, the amount of butterflies in her stomach hearing him say that. 

Even more so when she finds herself responding automatically, “I really like you, too.”

“Cool,” he says lamely, his breathless chuckle making her heart flutter in her chest. 

He doesn’t waste another second before he tugs her back to him, capturing her lips to his, one of his hands moving to cup the underside of her jaw. She tilts her head, letting out a gentle sigh as he deepens the kiss. His tongue brushes against her lips before slipping into her mouth. The weight of his other hand on her waist is comforting in a way, heavy and solid as he holds her in place. 

Truly, she hadn’t expected any of her plans from earlier in the week to come to this. 

Instinctively, her hand snakes down to his hips, sliding underneath the hem of his t-shirt and dragging across his stomach, smiling into the kiss as his muscles twitch underneath her touch. It’s then, as her hand dips even lower, palming him over his sweats that he seems to snap out of whatever trance she put him in. 

He grabs her wrist—gently, of course—pulling it away and breaking the kiss. 

His chest is heaving with each breath, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in an apologetic smile. “I—I can’t—the… the bet.”

And it dawns on Michelle then, that she’s been cockblocked by No Nut November. 

Even though she tries to appear understanding, he must be able to see the disappointment in the twist of her lips, the way she nods quietly. 

“But—” He starts, pressing his mouth together into a thin line. He nudges her, pointing his finger as he’s hit with a revelation, talking slowly. “—You’re not… doing… No Nut November…”

MJ lets out a surprised laugh, shifting in his lap as her face warms even more. A beat passes as she stares at him, giving him a chance to take it back. “Are you sure?” She finally asks.

Peter nods quickly, insistently. He’s got this. Clearly. “Oh. Yeah. Definitely. I’ll be fine.”

Yeah, she’s not sure how much of that she actually believes. 

Probably none of it. 

But, that doesn’t mean she’s turning down the offer. 

“Okay…” She trails off, unable to bite back her grin at the brief self-doubt that flashes across his features. “What do you—what do you wanna do?” She asks, her face burning, suddenly finding herself the slightest bit tongue tied. It takes everything in her to at least look calm and not like she’s about a half-second away from just jumping his bones. 

Or, one in particular. 

Peter clears his throat, the tips of his ears turning an adorable shade of red. “Uh—” He huffs out a laugh. “I mean… Whatever you’re comfortable with? I’m cool with whatever you want.”

He’s cool. Okay. Yeah. 

She shifts her weight again, biting back a smirk when he inhales sharply as she brushes against the hardness in his gray sweats. “Sorry.” Feeling merciful, Michelle climbs off of his lap, sitting back against the couch, curling her legs underneath her. “Any ideas?” 

Though, Peter can’t seem to tell if he’s happy with this new development or not—as hard as it was having her sitting on him. “Um—” And his expression tells her that he does have one. “I could…” He coughs again. “I could go down on you?”

It’s funny, how casually he says it, like he’s offering to give her a ride to the airport, or something. But it still makes her ears ring. 

“Yeah,” she says, nodding slowly. She swallows. “That sounds—that sounds good.”

“We should probably—” He gestures to his bedroom door, huffing out a laugh. “—not do this out here.” 

“Probably,” she snorts. 

The speed at which he scrambles to stand and runs to his bedroom, compared to her somewhat-leisurely pace, makes her let out the most undignified laugh. 

A silence falls between them as he shuts the door, the click echoing. MJ takes a moment to glance around his room—literally a single moment, because in the next he’s wrapping his arm around her waist, yanking her to him and crashing his lips to hers. His hands are greedy, twisting handfuls of the soft fabric of her robe, finding purchase on her ass and grinding her against his hardness. 

MJ revels in the groan he lets out as she melts into him, her hands winding themselves in his soft curls, twisting and tugging ever so slightly. 

He guides her to the bed, pausing to gently lay her back on the mattress before crawling over her, his mouth finding itself on the underside of her jaw, his lips and tongue dragging along the column of her throat. With one hand, he prises her legs apart, happily settling between them while his other fumbles with the tie of her robe. 

His eyes meet hers first, silently asking for permission, before pulling the thick string back. His eyes darken as Michelle helps him slip the robe back, leaving her almost completely bare underneath him. He unconsciously wets his lips as his eyes hungrily rake over the expanse of her body—he feels as if the only accurate description for how he feels at this moment being a deer caught in really well-defined headlights. 

She thinks for a moment that he’s just going to do this—stare at her—instead of, well, what he said he’d do. 

But he doesn’t seem to have that kind of patience. He lurches forward, his mouth hot on her neck, trailing open-mouthed, wet kisses down to her collarbone, her sternum, the swell of her right breast. 

She bites back a gasp as he takes her nipple into his mouth, her back arching off the bed as his tongue swirls around it, palming the other with his hand. It’s a sight to see for sure, Peter’s head on her chest, his curls tickling her skin.

His trail continues, back to the dip in her chest, lower and lower, his kisses hot on her stomach, down to her hips, the lace trim of her thong.

Peter sits back on his heels, breathless as he looks down at her. “Fuck—” He curses, drawn to the damp patch in the middle of the soft faux-satin, how it clings to her. 

He doesn’t give it another second, hooking his thumbs around the lace and roughly pulling them off of her legs. 

He’s diving his head down in the next instant, his lips leaving scorching kisses on the inside of her thighs. He thinks that he can maybe tease her, trying to slow his pace as he gets closer and closer to where she wants him to be. 

(Okay, it’s where he wants to be, too.)

He pulls back a little, trying not to smile too much at the disappointed edge in her shuddering sigh. As much as his mouth waters with her so close to him, he controls himself. Kind of. To a degree. He takes a finger, experimentally teasing her entrance, his sweats—somehow—tightening at Michelle’s quiet gasp as he touches her. There, he collects her wetness, coating his finger in her arousal, swirling it over her cunt, around her clit. And he sits there, marveling at how impossibly wet she is already. 

Though, it’s not long, probably less than a minute, before his impatience kicks in again. 

He thinks he might actually die if he doesn’t eat her out. 

Dramatic? Maybe. 

Valid?

Who’s to say?

But he can’t help himself, and any thought about slowing down is thrown out the window as he licks a long stripe up her center, his eyes rolling back as he tastes her. He dives right back in, his tongue circling her entrance, lapping her up. 

And Michelle can’t help but notice how at home he looks between her legs, how in his element he is as he moves to start sucking on her clit, flicking it back and forth with his tongue as he teases her with two fingers. 

His eyes meet hers and she wonders how on earth she’s going to survive this, especially when those two fingers push into her, curling as he pumps them in and out. 

“Shit—Peter!” She cries, her back fully lifting off the mattress as he picks up his pace, moaning against her. 

Clearly he’s enjoying this, too. 

A choked gasp slips from her lips when he slows suddenly, his eyes locking with hers again before picking back up even harder and faster than before. She reaches down, tangling her hand in his messy curls, holding him in just that right spot. Her thighs try to close on him, trapping him in as the coil in her tightens, but his free hand grips her, holding her in place. And she can’t fight the way her hips buck against him as she begins to grind herself against his face. 

It builds and builds, teetering just on that beautiful edge, when Peter adds a third finger—and then, she’s seeing stars, her brain going fuzzy as all of her muscles tense, electricity shooting from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. She comes with a strangled moan, panting as her body’s overcome with pleasure. 

Peter’s movements slow, and he pulls off of her sensitive clit, wiping his mouth with the back of his arm, before taking each finger into his mouth, sucking them clean. 

MJ sits up on her elbows, her chest heaving with each breath as she watches him—and at that moment, her eyes drawn to the hard line in his sweats, she curses No Nut November again, because honestly, she’s never wanted him to fuck her more, never been so angry at a single month.

He seems to be in the same fire, his expression wrought with the inner turmoil he feels. His eyes screw shut, and he pinches the bridge of his nose, trying desperately to ignore how painfully hard he is, how he can feel his dick pulsing already, and how stupidly hot and beautiful MJ is. 

His decision’s made before he opens his eyes. 

Michelle lets out a surprised yelp as he leaps on top of her, his mouth on hers before she can start laughing. Somehow, his hands are greedier as they explore her body, squeezing and kneading her breasts, her waist, her hips, down to her ass. 

None of that’s to say that she’s complaining, though. Peter just ate her out like it was his full-time job, like he was stopping crime as Spider-Man. As far as she’s concerned, he can do whatever he wants right now. 

It’s when he starts to take his sweats—and boxers—off that she gets confused, if not a little too hopeful. 

“What about the bet?” She asks breathlessly when he pulls back.

He holds her gaze, his lips curving into a sly grin. “Fuck the bet.”

If there’s a god, Michelle wants to thank her right now. 

Peter’s hands grip her thighs, his fingers digging into her skin as he wraps them around his waist. He takes his dick in his hand, pumping a few times, swiping it down her center, tapping her clit, before Michelle suddenly remembers to use their one collective brain cell. 

“Wait—” she gasps. “Condom.”

Peter curses under his breath, hanging his head for a moment, biting his lip. “Yeah. Yeah. You’re right.” 

If she thought he was fast running to the bedroom, watching him scramble through his bedside drawers looking for a rubber is something else. A giggle—a fucking giggle—bubbles up out of her at his relief when he finds one. 

He rolls it on quickly, expertly, days of No Nut November clearly not slowing him down. 

He’s back on her in the next second, eager as he gathers her arousal and coating himself with it. 

They both let out a string of curses as he pushes into her—finally. Peter screws his eyes shut, taking a shuddering breath as he feels how warm and snug she is around him, almost unable to believe how well she fits him. MJ grips his shoulder, face burning as he gives her a moment to adjust, a moment to take all of him in. 

When he starts to move, they both wonder again why they hadn’t been doing this in the first place. 

As with everything else, Peter doesn’t waste their time. Even though he revels in how fucking amazing she feels around him, how he can’t even remember the last time this felt so good, so right, he picks up a steady pace, fucking into her like it’s the last chance he’ll get. He hikes her leg higher on his waist, the new, deeper angle causing Michelle to arch her back, a wet moan ripping through her. 

“Peter—” She chants his name over and over, unable to say anything else as his hips snap into hers. “Fuck—”

“God, MJ, you’re so fucking good,” his voice is almost a growl, lower and more desperate than he’s ever sounded. “Taking me so well.”

Michelle should’ve guessed he was one for dirty talk, though she can’t say she’s surprised. 

Or that she minds. 

Peter bites back a groan, stilling momentarily as she clenches around him, burying his face in the crook of her neck. He’s already so close, teetering just on the edge, but he’s filled with a sense of determination at the sting of her nails digging into his shoulders. 

His hand trails down her stomach, his thumb pressing her clit, scrubbing furiously as he pumps in and out of her. She squeezes him again, head thrown back, slack-jawed as he tilts her hips even further, the new angle causing a string of curses to spill from her lips. Her muscles spasm around him as she comes for a second time, her eyes screwed shut as she clings to him for dear life. His own orgasm crashes over him, and he moans loudly into her skin, holding her to him , fingers digging into her hips as he comes undone. 

It’s something MJ can’t help but want to see again. And again. 

He flops down on top of her, his head on her chest as he struggles to catch his breath. 

Her hand comes to smooth down his curls at the nape of his neck, and she smiles as he shifts his head to look up at her. 

“God, fuck No Nut November,” He breathes into her skin. 

A light laugh bubbles up out of her. 

He lets out a heavy sigh. “What day is it?” He asks.

“November fifth.” 

He groans, squeezing his eyes shut. “Damn.” He pulls out of her, standing up to throw the condom away, almost missing the bin in the corner of the room. 

“You made it longer than I thought you would,” Michelle laughs.

Peter flops down next to her, his eyes narrowed, though there’s still a smile on his face. “What?” 

“Well, yeah. I bet Ned that you wouldn’t last a week,” she replies, patting him on the chest as she gets up, disappearing into the bathroom. 

Peter’s eyes widen before he covers them with his hands. “Oh. Shit. Ned.”

He’s still there when she comes back; still naked, too. 

“Ned, doesn’t have to know,” MJ says, falling back into the bed with him. 

Peter peeks out from underneath his arm. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. We can like, pretend you’re still doing it.”

There’s a crooked grin on Peter’s face as he stares at her—a look that makes her insides gooey and heart fuzzy. 

And she hates how much she doesn’t hate it. 

“And when Betty inevitably breaks Ned,” she shrugs. “We can split the money.”

He shakes his head, amazed and somewhat scandalized. “MJ, you’re a genius.”

Again, she shrugs. 

“So, we can keep doing—” He gestures between them, brows raised. “—And let Ned lose. The money’s ours.”

“Right.”

He lamely sticks his hand out, offering for her to shake on it.

“Deal?” He asks.

She kisses him. “Deal.”

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Still The One (Part 4)

Summary: Dean’s beginning to feel like his old self but he can see the reader struggling with everything that’s gone on and tries to get her some help too...

Masterlist

Pairing: Mechanic!Dean x reader

Word Count: 5,000ish

Warnings: language, angst, referenced domestic abuse

_____

Two Weeks Later

“Dean,” you called up the stairs. “Dean, I’m home!”

You got no response and went upstairs, wandering around until you found him in the bathroom. 

“Hey,” you said.

“Hey,” he said from the tub.

“How’d therapy go?” you asked.

“Good,” said Dean. “He told me I need to start doing self care.”

“I like that,” you said as you sat on the edge. “Bubble bath?”

“I haven’t had a bath in years. It was one of his ideas,” he said. You ran a hand through his damp strands, Dean closing his eyes. “I can’t even explain how much I didn’t want to go to therapy earlier.”

“I can take you tomorrow,” you said.

“Okay,” he said, nuzzling into the touch. “It was actually really good.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I still feel like crap most of the time but the guy was really good. No judgement at all. He was good,” said Dean.

“Good. I wish I could help you more,” you said. He smiled and blinked open his eyes.

“You are. You did. It’s like you said, I need to talk to a professional if I’m ever going to feel better,” he said.

“I’m so proud of you for going,” you said, bending down and kissing him. “I love you.”

You didn’t realize you’d said the words until Dean was sitting up, staring at you.

“What did you say?”

“I love you,” you said. A tiny smile crossed his face and you saw him visibly relax, almost like he’d forgotten everything that’d been going on lately.

“Do you mean that?” he asked. You nodded and gave him a smile. “But why?”

“Why do I love you?” you asked.

“Yeah. Why would you love me?”

There was something off about the way he asked and you titled your head at him. He swallowed and you saw him tense up again.

“Dean,” you said, getting down on the floor and leaning over so you were at his height. “You’re my best friend. I don’t care what happens to you, to me, to us. I have loved you for a very long time. Nothing could make me not.”

“Michael told me he loved me,” said Dean quietly.

“What he did was not love,” you said, Dean nodding.

“I know. I know that. I just...I’m not ready to say that to you. I care about you and I feel things I know are love but I can’t say it. I need to know I’m saying it because I want to, not cause I’m scared,” he said.

“Let’s make a deal. You never say anything you don’t want to ever again, okay?” you said. He nodded and you smiled. “If and when you’re ready to tell me anything, then you do it. Is it okay if I tell you that though?”

“Yes. Please do,” he said. You leaned over and kissed him again before you stood up. 

“Okay. Shout if you need something, otherwise I will be making some enchiladas for dinner,” you said.

“That sounds delicious,” he said.

“It will be,” you said. “I hope. I’ll give you your privacy.”

“Y/N,” said Dean before you could leave. “Can you get my one of those heat packs for my shoulder? For after I dry off?”

“Sure. I’ll leave it on the bed,” you said.

“Thanks,” he said. You hummed and went back to the bedroom, taking a pair of his sweatpants out of the dresser and laying them on the bed, setting out some other clothes. You found the hot packs in the guest bathroom, leaving the box on the bed for him for when he was finished. 

You headed down the stairs and worked on dinner for a while, sticking it in the oven eventually. You heard Dean come down, a hand on your shoulder causing you to look up.

“You alright?” he asked.

“Of course,” you said.

“Checking is all,” he said, brushing his thumb over you almost healed bruise. “He hurt you and that’s my fault.”

“No, it’s his fault. I was the idiot that should have gotten out of there quicker,” you said.

“You saved my life,” he said, dropping his hand away. 

“I didn’t save-”

“Y/N. I was never leaving that house again. I was trapped. The only reason I am not in some basement for the rest of my life is because you gave a shit about me,” he said.

“No, Dean. The reason you are here and safe is because you asked for help. You were strong enough to do that and that was the hardest part. It’s still hard but we’ll get through the rest. I promise,” you said.

“I have a condition,” he said.

“I’m sorry but my love is unconditional,” you said. He stared at you a moment, a funny smile on his face.

“Well, that is very nice to hear but this is actually something I talked to my new therapist about,” he said.

“Oh. Well what is it?”

“He thinks that me having something to care for and be responsible for in a way will be helpful for me,” he said. “We talked about you quite a bit in my session for obvious reasons and what happened to you. He thought that it would be good if I spent some time every day taking care of you.”

“Uh, what?” you said.

“You take care of me from the second I get up to the second I go to sleep. You were hurt too. I’m asking for five minutes a day. I do the laundry or cook dinner or I give you a foot massage. Something small. Please,” he said.

“Alright,” you said. “Thank you.”

“The food smells really good,” he said, reaching over and taking your hand in his. 

“Yeah,” you said, looking down. “Your skin’s all soft from your bath.”

“I never realized that stuff like scented baths was actually good for you. I thought it was all frilly before,” he said.

“Wait until I teach you about face masks,” you teased.

“Oh, I can’t wait,” he chuckled. You walked him over to the couch, pulling him to sit down with you. You settled him in your lap, wrapping your arms around him. “You know, you won’t always be big spoon in this relationship.”

“I’ll take it when I can get it,” you said, smushing your cheek against the top of his head. “You smell so pretty.”

“Thank you,” he said, inching back into you. You stayed like that for a few minutes before Dean turned on his side. You were careful of his bad shoulder but kept him close. “Maybe someday you could come to therapy with me. I’m allowed guests after a while.”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you said. The doorbell rang and Dean popped up. “Relax, De. It’s probably my dad.”

You walked over and looked out the window, John’s car parked out front.

“John,” you said, opening the door and having him come right in. “How can we help you-”

He practically threw you into the nearest wall and you slumped down, Dean out of his seat by the time John had put a pair of restraints on you and hauled you to your feet.

“Dad, what the fuck-”

“She was having regular phone calls with Michael for the past six months. Do you think that’s a coincidence?” said John.

“I didn’t-” you said, getting shoved back against a wall, your shoulder aching fiercely. “Fuck. Stop before you dislocate it again.”

“What the fuck are you up to?” he said, getting right in your face. 

“Nothing!” you said, John gripping your shirt collar. You whined and turned your head away, another hand on you and yanking you. You stumbled a bit but Dean pulled you behind himself, John cocking his head.

“Dean. The phone records-”

“Maybe someone hacked her phone. Michael had money, maybe he did it himself in case something happened. I don’t know. I do know there are very, very few people in the world I trust right now and no one more than her,” said Dean.

“I understand but-”

“No but’s, dad,” said Dean. “She didn’t do this. End of story.”

“I swear kid if you are in cahoots with that psychopath, you’ll never make it to a police station,” said John.

“Why don’t you be an actual cop and do your damn job and figure out any of the other five hundred reasons why Michael might have been talking to this number, hm? I would start with asking the freak himself,” said Dean. “Now leave.”

John huffed and slammed the door shut on his way out. Dean sighed and you walked over to the kitchen with him, Dean pulling out a pair of scissors. You turned around and felt him start to work on cutting it off when he paused.

“Did you?” he asked.

“He almost murdered me in case you forgot,” you said, spinning around to glare at him. “I’m not a big fan of Michael either.”

“I know,” he said, cutting the tie off. You rubbed your wrist and picked up the pieces from the floor.

“I don’t know, Dean. He could have hacked my account or paid someone to. I don’t know but if you don’t trust me, ever, go ahead and leave. I will never force you to stay someplace you don’t feel safe.”

You watched him set the scissors down and swallow, a strange look crossing his face.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

“It’s alright,” you said.

“No it’s not,” he said.

“Dean. I promise. It’s okay,” you said, giving him a gentle hug. “Your dad got scared and you got scared. I don’t want something like that to happen again but thank you for protecting me.”

“I didn’t do anything,” he said.

“Yes you did,” you said, putting a hand on your shoulder. “Would you mind getting me one of those hot packs?”

“Sure,” he said.

A few minutes later he was helping you put it on your shoulder blade, Dean staring at your back as you pulled your shirt down.

“Does that hurt?” he asked.

“It’s just a few bruises,” you said. “I’ll survive. I should check on our dinner.”

“Y/N,” he said as he stopped in front of the stove. “I know I’m...you know that I won’t let anyone hurt you again either.”

“I know,” you said. “Let’s enjoy the rest of our night like were were before, alright?”

“Hey, Y/N,” said Sam the next day. You were doing a bit of yard work while Dean washed and waxed Baby, his headphones going. “How’s he doing?”

“Good,” you said, Sam nodding as he walked over to you. “What’s up?”

“My dad sort of told me about what happened, the phone records. I got a call from him this morning. Someone hacked your iPhone account, they’ve been sending text messages back and forth with this Michael guy for a while now. They would delete them as soon as they came in and it seems like it was always the middle of the night which is why you likely never noticed,” said Sam.

“Why would someone do that?” you asked.

“I don’t know. Michael could have been monitoring Dean’s contact with other people. We know he did that. It doesn’t quite make sense for him to send texts to himself though. They’re pretty bad,” said Sam.

“You guys think there was someone else involved, don’t you.”

“I told dad you’d figure it out,” said Sam with a sad smile. “We don’t know for sure what’s going on. Just keep an eye out for yourselves.”

“Do you think someone would hurt Dean again?” you asked.

“I have no idea,” said Sam. “I have no idea what’s going on in his head right now. It could have been Michael, it could not have. You focus on Dean and I’ll work with the police on figuring this other crap out, deal?”

“Deal,” you said. Sam gave you a quick hug. “Be careful, Sam. Don’t be stupid. Call your dad or my dad if something feels wrong.”

“I will,” he said. “I promise.”

“Hey, Y/N,” said Dean a few days later, scrolling through his computer. “I was thinking of calling up my old garage and asking for my job back. What do you think?”

“You want to go back to work?” you asked as you cleaned up a few pots after dinner. “You sure?”

“I’m getting bored sitting around home if I’m being honest. You’re back at work and there’s no more chores to do. Maybe part-time in the morning that way I can go to therapy in the afternoon,” he said.

“I think that sounds like a great idea. I’m assuming you want to go back to the garage?” you asked, setting the towel down.

“I think a different one but yeah,” he said. “I’m definitely up for it again.”

“Well if you need a reference or anything, be sure to put me down,” you said.

“Will do,” he said. You put away the dishes and wiped down the kitchen, only somewhat surprised to find the laundry was already done when you went to do it. “Y/N. Come sit on the couch. You’ve been working all day.”

“I thought I told you I would do the laundry after the bra destroying incident,” you said.

“I used the baggie this time, promise,” he said. “I get my five minutes of taking care of you time.”

“You said you did the laundry though,” you said as you took a seat.

“I did and lo and behold, I feel good enough to do something else for you today,” he teased. 

“Alright, alright,” you said, plopping down next to him. He pulled you to sit in his lap, wrapping his arms around you like you so often did for him. “You just wanted to be big spoon.”

“I wanted to give my girlfriend a cuddle where we can focus on her instead of me for once,” he said.

“What do you mean?” you said softly, dancing your finger on some of the freckles along his arm.

“Dr. Porter says you went through a trauma too. We talk about you,” he said.

“I did not go through a trauma, Dean,” you said. You tilted your head back at him, his eyes looking down and away. 

“You know, admitting that there’s a problem is the first step,” he said.

“Dean. I’m fine.”

“I’m not and I had those things happen to me,” he said. You rolled your eyes and caught him frowning.

“Geez. I’m not you,” you said. His warm embrace on you fell away and you sat up, turning around. “Dean-“

“You mean you’re not weak like me, right? That’s what you meant to say,” he said. You scoffed and he pulled his legs in and stood. “I mean, you’re right. Look how bad I let it get.”

“That’s not-“

“Yeah, it is,” he said. He took off upstairs and you followed after, finding Dean shoving some clothes in a duffel bag.

“Where the hell are you going?” you snapped. He froze instantly and you immediately regretted it. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he said quietly, shoving the duffel into the floor. He sat down on the bed and you went right beside him.

“I scared you,” you said.

“A little,” he said.

“It didn’t look like a little, Dean,” you said. You sighed and tucked your knees up to your chest, resting your chin on them. “I’m sorry.”

“I need you to yell at me and for us to disagree and have fights,” he said. You turned your head and were surprised to see him smiling. “Yes I freaked for a second but nothing bad happened. The doctor said I’ll get used to that again but only with trial and error.”

“You were afraid of me,” you said, looking away.

“Trial and error,” he said, moving closer and laying an arm over your shoulders. “I’m sorry for snapping too. You might process things differently than I do.”

“I like this doctor,” you said, Dean chuckling. “I want to make sure you’re feeling better before we deal with me.”

“I’m sorry but I don’t agree with that,” he said. “I’m hurt and screwed up but that doesn’t mean I can’t help you too.”

“It’s not…” you said, pursing your lips.

“Maybe tomorrow you can talk to Dr. Porter after my session quick,” he said. 

“I really don’t want to,” you said. “But you did it for me so I’ll do it for you.”

“Thank you,” he said, kissing your forehead. “You don’t ever have to tell me anything about what you say. I want you to be okay too is all.”

“I know, Dean. Let’s call it an early night. I think I interrupted our cuddle.”

“Y/N,” said Dr. Porter, showing you back to his office the next evening. “Nice to meet you in person. Dean talks about you every session.”

“Yeah. The dork likes me,” you said with a smile.

“You tease one another?” he asked, waving for you to take a seat. You settled into the couch, Dr. Porter shutting the door.

“Yeah. We’ve been doing it since we were five,” you said. 

“Dean mentioned the two of you grew up together. I think it’s quite nice to have had a friendship that long,” he said as he sat down in a comfortable looking chair.

“We drifted apart when we went to college,” you said. “I moved back here about a year ago. Closer to family.”

“It does have its benefits. So. Let’s talk about the elephant in the room. Michael,” he said. 

“What about him?”

“Give me your thoughts on him,” he said with a shrug.

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Why?”

“Cause.”

“Seriously? Cause?”

“Mhm.”

“Again, why?”

“Again, cause.”

You scoffed and crossed your arms. He chuckled and did the same motion back to you.

“I got all day,” he said.

“This is a waste of time,” you said as you stood up.

“I know you came because Dean asked you to,” he said. You sighed and Dr. Porter got to his feet. “I know that you wouldn’t have come to a place like this on your own. I also know that Dean looks up to you right now. You’re something solid in his life which he needs. But he’s taking a lot of cues from you whether you know it or not. So let’s sit back down and talk for an hour, alright? You never want to try again, that’s your choice but do try. If not for yourself then for him.”

“I will do this once for Dean,” you said, taking a seat.

“Good,” he said. He went to a drawer behind his desk and turned back at you. “What’s your favorite color?”

“I like green,” you said.

“Green it is,” he said. He took out a notebook and carried it over to his chair, flipping it open before he sat once more. “Alright. So you were going to tell me what you think about Michael.”

“I’m glad he’s locked away and I hope he gets the shit beat out of him in prison,” you said with a hum. “I don’t care what that makes me seem like.”

“It makes you seem human,” he said. “Besides that, what else?”

“I think he’s a scumbag who I hope rots in hell,” you said. Dr. Porter set his pen aside and slumped back in his seat. “What?”

“You don’t quite get what were doing here yet, do we,” he said. “I don’t want Dean’s girlfriend’s perspective. I want Y/N’s.”

You rolled your eyes and stared at the coffee table, Dr. Porter sitting upright again.

“You ever get in fights as a kid?” he asked.

“Once or twice. It was kid stuff,” you said.

“Tell me about your first fight,” he said.

“It wasn’t really a fight. I think I was five. I spilled my juice on my white shirt at lunch on accident. It was no big deal until later on at recess, this boy in my class started picking on me and calling me names. I yelled at him to stop and he pushed me,” you said.

“So you pushed back.”

“Actually, no,” you said, Dr. Porter tilting his head. “This little boy, smaller and shorter than even me, he came charging in and said you don’t push people. He didn’t say girls, he said people. I remember that. This mean boy pushed the little boy and well, I threw a punch and the mean boy left us alone after that.”

“Did this little boy happen to be Dean Winchester?” he asked with a soft smile. You nodded and rubbed your palm.

“He was in a different class but we were best friends after that. When we got to middle school, it was sixth grade, some older kids started to pick on Dean. He um, he’d broken his arm that summer. We were stupid kids and jumped off a shed roof or two in all our genius. So he started sixth grade with a cast and the eighth graders were vicious and they would say stuff on the way home from school. One day we were walking home and someone got physical because Dean was ignoring them. But he was hurt and they almost hurt him when he was...healing,” you said as you looked at Dr. Porter. “The only times I’ve ever been in a fight has been to protect Dean, hasn’t it.”

“Finish your story, please.”

“I kicked a kid in the nuts and broke the other one’s nose,” you said with a smirk. “Little shits deserved it.”

“Has Dean ever been in a fight for you aside from the incident when you were small children?” he asked.

“My prom date got too handsy in the parking lot. Dean didn’t fight him, by then Dean had hit his growth spurt, but he made sure the guy left me alone. We ditched the after prom parties and went back to his house. We sat on his back porch, we’d made a fire in the pit, and I’m pretty sure we stole a six pack of his dad’s beer. We just sat out there and talked. His dad wanted to kill us but he let us slide that once,” you said. You smiled to yourself, glancing back at the table.

“It’s obvious you care for Dean and he cares for you. Do you understand why he wants to make sure you’re getting the care you deserve?” he asked.

“I understand that but-”

“There’s no but’s in this place,” he said. You closed your eyes and sighed.

“In your professional opinion, don’t you feel like the previously abused, kidnapped, controlled and whatever else he doesn’t tell me, don’t you feel like that guy should be the one that gets a little extra care, hm? Because to me, it’s pretty simple,” you said.

“Do you pity him?”

“Never,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “Do you know how proud I am of him for asking for help and getting the hell out of there? Guys don’t talk about that stuff, they don’t report that stuff when it happens to them. I am happy that he is safe and I want to help him feel better but not because I pity him. I love him.”

“If you love him, give him the same courtesy he’s given you. Stop dancing around what we both know happened,” he said.

“What do you want me to say? That Michael hurt me? That he kidnapped me and tied me up and hit me? That I was terrified? Or maybe you want me to say that I know what it’s like to have someone nearly kill you? Maybe you want me to say that I get scared when I hear a fucking car outside my house? Or maybe, just maybe, you want me to say that I want Dean to make me feel safe and to take care of me but the thing is he can’t do that because I have to be strong for him? Well I don’t care if I’m scared. He needs love and he needs someone to focus on him so that is what I am going to do. I will shove the crap inside down until he’s okay again but until then, that’s how this works.”

Dr. Porter looked down at the floor for a long time before raising his head.

“Y/N that plan of yours may work out. It could. But Dean will continue to see you hurting. You will continue to hurt. You will still have fear. If you bottle that up...bottles have a way of popping open if you don’t let them breathe,” he said.

“You think I’ll snap or some shit?” you said.

“I think you will get tired and exhaust yourself putting up a charade and the next fight you have with Dean...you might scare him worse than making him freeze up in a bedroom. It won’t be on purpose but one of you will do something that makes the other pop open that bottle inside and it won’t be pretty,” he said.

“And what exactly do you suggest,” you said.

“I would like permission to request the case file from the police and do a proper work up on you and then I’d like us to meet again and potentially make a diagnosis,” he said.

“I’m not sick,” you said.

“You have PTSD. That is a given. I’m pretty sure you’re smart enough to have figured that out on your own awhile ago. But I can’t help you if you don’t give me a chance,” he said.

“I don’t need help. I did this for Dean and that is it,” you said as you stood and headed for the door.

“You know, I deal with trauma patients. It’s my specialty. Do you know how many times someone has gotten up and gone to that door? Almost every single new patient does it,” he said. You paused with you hand on the handle, Dr. Porter shifting around. “Trauma is personal. It is unique to an individual. Even individuals that undergo the same traumatic event can differ in their reactions to it greatly.”

“If you have a point, I’d get to it,” you said.

“Trauma is not weakness. It is survival. There are degrees of severity to trauma. You may think you are fine but you need to deal with this,” he said.

“No thanks.”

“You want to help Dean?”

“Of course I-“

“Then do this. If you take care of yourself, you can take care of him,” he said.

“I am fine,” you grit out.

“Clearly.”

“You’re so unprofessional it’s not even funny,” you said.

“No. I don’t bullshit. If you’re stubborn, I’m stubborn back. You’re protecting yourself. The sooner you admit-“

“Dean is the priority, not me,” you said.

“Why do you think he asked you to do this? You’re his priority,” he said. You rested your head against the door and shut your eyes. “Tell me one thing. What are you afraid of?”

“I can’t be afraid,” you snapped. “I can’t. I have to be put together and I’m so fucking tired of it.”

“Then rest,” he said. You turned your head and blinked at him. “Rest, Y/N.”

You sat back down on the couch and put your head in your hands.

“I don’t know what to do,” you said.

“For right now, how about you let out whatever it is you’ve been keeping in that bottle. How’s that sound?”

An hour later you walked out of Dr. Porter’s office, sniffling some as he walked you out to where Dean was in the waiting room.

“Hey,” said Dean as he popped up. “What happened?”

“Y/N had a little breakthrough,” said Dr. Porter. “I will see you both tomorrow. Dean, why don’t you drive the two of you home, hm?”

“Yeah,” he said, taking the keys when you handed them over. “Y/N-“

“I’m sure Y/N will discuss this with you when she’s ready,” he said. You nodded and gave him a small smile, Dean pausing for a moment before the two of you headed outside. You were barely in the car before he was looking at you.

You glanced his direction, Dean giving you a smile.

“Want me to stop at the grocery store quick and get some ice cream?”

“Okay,” you said. He reached over and held your hand before he backed out. “Mint chocolate chip?”

“Sure thing, sweetheart.”

_____

A/N: Read the Final Part here!

[malewifegrantaire]

The Birthday Thing

READ PART ONE HERE

READ PART TWO HERE

PART THREE: The titular “Thing.”

Combeferre had put himself in charge of the cell phone bag, a move that Enjolras heartily objected to.

“You really don’t have to do that.” Enjolras said. “You should be having fun!”

“I will be having fun!” Combeferre promised. “But if we’re gonna enforce a no cell phone policy, someone has to keep an eye on them in case someone’s mom calls or something.”

“If my mom calls, do me a favor and send her to voicemail.” Courfeyrac interrupted. Courfeyrac had managed to simultaneously be the first and last person to arrive, even though the party was being thrown in his apartment. He’d set everything up, welcomed Enjolras and Combeferre, and then left to go pick up his plus-one who, Combeferre noticed, was standing very nervously behind Courfeyrac clutching a bouquet of flowers.

“Uh, hi. Thank you, uh, thanks for having me, I know we don’t know each other too well. We met once, I don’t know if you remember-“

“I remember.” Combeferre said, and Marius made a face that said quite plainly he wished he hadn’t remembered him at all. Enjolras only smiled.

“Oh, it’s you! You’re, yeah, you’re that guy, I remember you! Marius. Okay, yeah! Thank you for coming.” he said. Marius’ shoulders relaxed a bit, and he held out the bouquet.

“These are for you. Or for the house, I guess. I know it said no gifts but I thought, but if you don’t want anything I - sorry, I know that, but, it’s fine I can just-“

“These are very nice, thank you. I appreciate it.” Enjolras said graciously.

Combeferre grabbed the tote bag full of cell phones and held it open. “Well, confiscation time. Cough ‘em up, fellas.” he said. Courfeyrac took it upon himself to discard of Marius’ phone, but before he did, something on Marius’ screen made him giggle.

“I didn’t know you had a sister, Marius.”

Marius frowned. “Sister? What are you - oh!”

His lock screen was a selfie of a teenage girl, who was making a silly face into the camera. Marius’ eyes widened, and he quickly snatched his phone away to change the picture. “This isn’t my sister,” he explained, laughing nervously. “It’s, she’s this kid I know, my neighbor.” He set his screensaver to the first thing in his camera roll, a picture of a dog wearing rain boots, and tossed the phone into the tote bag.

“Okay!” Enjolras said brightly. “Thanks again for coming, and for the flowers. Have you met everyone yet.”

“Uh, yeah.” Marius said. “I know Joly and Bossuet, I already said hi to him. And Bahorel, is he here?”

“Yes, he’s . . . I don’t know, actually. He’s somewhere.”

“And uh, Grantaire, I know him. Is he here too?”

Enjolras’ face fell a bit. As a matter of fact, Grantaire wasn’t there. Not that it was unlike him to be “fashionably” late (Enjolras hadn’t a clue what was so fashionable about lack of punctuality, but you know.) But, still, Enjolras thought . . . seeing as it was his birthday and all . . .

“Not yet,” Combeferre cut in. “But he will be. Soon.”

Courfeyrac squinted at him. “Right.” he said. “Well, we’ll go and join the fray. Come on, Enjolras, you should come join us. Combeferre’s not allowed to hog you in the kitchen all night.”

“Well, alright.” Enjolras said with a pleased sigh. “Combeferre, you don’t have to stand guard by the phones all night.”

“Agreed. I expect you to join us for karaoke!” Courfeyrac said, dragging Enjolras and Marius into the living room to mingle.

Combeferre eyed his tote bag, which was now fairly heavy. Technically, the no cell phone rule applied to him too, but rules were made to be broken, no? He scrolled through his recent contacts and hit the call button, turning away from the kitchen island so as not to be spotted.

“Hello?”

“Uh, yeah, hello?” Combeferre whispered into the phone. “Where are you?”

“Hello??”

“Hello? Can you hear me?”

“Nah, I’m just fucking with you. You’ve reached Grantaire’s voicemail. My phone is either lost or dead or I just don’t want to pick up, so shoot me a text. If it’s an emergency, call literally anyone else. While you’re here, check out this sick beep.”

There was a beep. Fucker.

Combeferre groaned. He should have known this would happen. He looked at Enjolras, who was laughing at something Feuilly was saying. He was a great friend, Enjolras. Maybe the greatest. He didn’t want gifts or even a fancy party. He just wanted all of his friends under one roof for a night. It wasn’t that much to ask for.

He was going to get what he wanted. Combeferre would see to it.

***

Someone was knocking at the door, and Grantaire was pretty sure he knew who it was, but he opened it anyway. Combeferre was standing arms folded, looking angrier than Grantaire had ever seen him (and Grantaire had seen Combeferre argue about politics.)

“Who buzzed you in?” he asked stupidly.

Combeferre didn’t wait for an invitation, he brushed past Grantaire into the apartment. He looked like he was going to throw a punch. Grantaire almost hoped he would. He was usually better with fists than with words.

“What the fuck?” Combeferre asked. It wasn’t a rhetorical question.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Say you got hit in the head and you’re suffering from amnesia, because other than that I can not think of a reason you are in this apartment in pajamas right now.”

Grantaire looked up at Combeferre. “I got hit in the head and I’m suffering from amnesia.” he said.

Combeferre wanted to scream. “Come on.” he said, exercising an impressive amount of restraint. “Get your clothes on. Let’s go.”

“Uh, no, I’m not going. I don’t even know why your here, I already texted Enjolras.”

Combeferre stared at him for a beat, then started rummaging through the tote bag he was carrying. Grantaire blinked in confusion.

“Is that everyone’s phones?” he asked.

“Yeah, it’s a screen free party.” Combeferre muttered.

“But you’re here. So nobody at the apartment has a phone. What if there’s an emergency?”

“There won’t be an emergency. Also, Jehan has his phone.” Combeferre had given it to him before he left. He said he was just running out to grab some more drinks, but he was pretty sure Jehan could tell he was lying. He probably should have left the entire bag with Jehan, but he hadn’t been thinking clearly. “Also,” Combeferre added, angrily. “I shouldn’t have had to leave anything with anyone, because you should be at Courfeyrac’s right now.”

Grantaire frowned. Combeferre noticed for the first time how very tired he looked. Very tired, and very unhappy. While he was at it, he also noticed an envelope with Enjolras’ name written in pretty cursive on the coffee table. And an outfit laid carefully out across the couch. Grantaire wasn’t acting his usual self. He seemed . . . more withdrawn. Combeferre always thought of Grantaire as bold and utterly shameless. Maybe this is what it looked like when Grantaire was embarrassed. He went back to looking for Enjolras’ phone.

sorry, can’t make it tonight. wish i could be there, not feeling well. have a blast.

Combeferre read the message aloud. “This is bullshit.” he decided. “I’m deleting this.”

“Oh, you know Enjolras’ password,” Grantaire commented, watching Combeferre. “How sweet.”

“It’s literally 1-2-3-4.” Why did he say that? Now Enjolras would have to change it. Goddamn it.

“Look, I’m actually not feeling well.” Grantaire lied. “So, if you could kindly fuck off? I’d super appreciate it.”

Combeferre looked him up and down. “I think you self sabotage, Grantaire.” he said, earning a mean bark of a laugh from the shorter man.

“Gee thanks. How much do I owe you for this session, doc?”

“Stop, I’m being - I’m trying to be real with you.” Grantaire looked amused by the notion. Combeferre carried on, “Everyone is trying to be friends with you. Why do you insist on making that so difficult?”

“Sorry it’s been such a pain in the ass, I truly am.” Grantaire said, rolling his eyes petulantly. “Look, we all know what kind of friend I am. I’m good for carousing and not much else. It’s no trouble, after all, everyone needs a good drinking buddy, and I am happy to oblige. But this shit? Dinner parties - sorry, not party, thing. And, and, folding laundry together and going for picnics in the park and Saturday brunch or whatever the fuck? That’s not me. Sorry. I really wish it was but, you know. ‘To thine own self be true’ and all that.”

Combeferre folded his arms across his chest. He knew what he needed to ask, but he really, really didn’t want to. Combeferre was a polite person, but what good is politeness if you can’t extend it to people that aren’t always easy to be around? Kind and good, that’s what he tried to be. But maybe he’d find out that he wasn’t kind or good, not really. Not when it counted.

“Grantaire, did I do something to you?”

Grantaire seemed taken aback. “What?”

Combeferre really didn’t want to ask again. “Did I, you know. Is there something I did? Or, I don’t know, do? I just . . . why don’t you like me?”

There was a silence. Grantaire looked at Combeferre, his face twisted in anxiety. This could not be happening.

“Combeferre.” he said slowly. “I don’t dislike you.”

“It’s okay, I shouldn’t have even - but like. You do hang out with the others. Like I know I’m not always down for whatever, but you’re friends with everyone. You’re friends with fucking Marius Pontmercy, who I literally forgot existed until this week. So I know you like all them, obviously you’re friends with Joly and Bossuet, and you go out with Bahorel and Courfeyrac a lot, and you’re always talking to Feuilly and Jehan about whatever, and obviously you like Enjolras so it’s just me, then. I feel like maybe I did something to you but I don’t know what it was or what it is and I don’t know how to fix it? Or apologize? I don’t know, I know we don’t all have to be friends, like I’m not forcing you to be my friend or anything, but I don’t know. I’d like to be.”

Grantaire frowned. “I hate when you do that.” he said, which is not exactly the response Combeferre was hoping for. His heart sunk.

“Do what?”

“Say stuff about Enjolras like that. Like wink-wink nudge-nudge, obviously you like him and oh my god he totally wanted you here. Like I get it, but you don’t have to make fun.” Grantaire’s eyes were fixed on the ground. His pajama pants didn’t have pockets to shove his hands into, so instead they were sort of nervously pulling at the drawstring.

Combeferre didn’t know what to say. He felt absolutely terrible. “I didn’t - I’m sorry. I never meant to make fun. I just meant that I know you guys have like, you know. You have a different relationship than the rest of us, I guess.”

“Fuck off.” Grantaire said, but it came out quiet and unsure of itself.

“Look, I’m only here because I want Enjolras to have a good birthday. I know my best friend, and I know that he will have a great time and be grateful for everyone who came whether you’re there or not.”

“Okay.” Grantaire said, meeting Combeferre’s eyes at last.

“But I also know that he’s going to be thinking all night about why you didn’t show, and he’s going to bring it up for the next month in the way he does whenever he brings you up as if he’s just casually curious even though he’s a terrible actor. And honestly? Maybe it’s selfish, but I don’t want to have to deal with all that. Which is why I’m here to bring you to the party.”

“I didn’t know you had a selfish bone in your body.” Grantaire laughed, almost sounding impressed.

“Well, I’m only human.”

“It doesn’t seem like that, sometimes.” Grantaire said. “You three. You seem like something else entirely. Demigods, maybe. Something out of a book.”

“Well, we’re not. We’re people. Get your clothes on, please.”

Maybe for the first time in all of their years of acquaintance, Grantaire nodded and quietly obliged.

***

“Well, look what the cat dragged in.” Bahorel said, more fond than annoyed. Everyone in the apartment greeted Grantaire with a cheer. He gave a sheepish grin in return.

“You know me. I never miss a party.” he said.

Courfeyrac intercepted Combeferre at the door. “I was wondering where you went.” he said, grinning from ear to ear. “Excellent work.”

“Well, you know. It’s his birthday.”

“Speak of the devil.”

Enjolras had made his way from across the apartment to say hello. He looked more beautiful than Grantaire had ever seen him, his golden hair tucked behind his ears, which were blushing pink. Not that this meant much - every time Grantaire looked at Enjolras he seemed more beautiful than the last.

“Glad you could make it.” he said, and he meant it.

“Better late than never, right?” Grantaire joked, but with much more gentleness and much less bravado than he jokes with any of the others. Enjolras usually had this effect on him. “You look nice.”

“Thank you.” Enjolras smiled, and his teeth were so white it was unfair and his eyes were so bright Grantaire could probably sue for damage to his retinas. He pulled an envelope out of his pocket.

“This is, uh, it’s for you. I know it said no gifts but in my opinion that’s bullshit, so. Here.”

“Thank you.” Enjolras said again. “Can I open it now?”

“It’s your present, so. It’s not much, just a gift card.”

Enjolras tore open the envelope. He looked at the contents curiously. Grantaire felt himself starting to sweat.

“What’s Claire’s?” Enjolras asked.

“The fuck?” Grantaire said, grabbing the gift card. Jesus Christ. “I meant to get a regular one, fuck me. Uh, I’m pretty sure Claire’s is a children’s jewelry store. You could get a phone case. Or pierce your ears, that could be fun! I think I have a receipt at home somewhere, I’ll get it to you and you can get an actual gift card. Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine.” Enjolras said, beaming. “Thank you.”

“No, uh, thanks for the invite.”

A phone started ringing from inside of Combeferre’s bag. He fished around for a while before finding the culprit. A familiar looking girl’s contact image lit up the screen.

“Marius, it’s your sister.”

Marius’ eyes went wide, and he rushed to grab his phone. “She’s not my sister. Hello?” he said into the speaker, his face contorting into an indecipherable expression before running into the bathroom to take his call. Combeferre couldn’t help but roll his eyes, which Grantaire noticed with a giggle. Courfeyrac had somehow made his way to the top of a stool, and he was clanging a fork to his glass.

“Everyone! Eyes up here! So, who’s ready for a game?!”

[spaced0lphin]

TBMS Deleted Scene

This scene was originally written for the as-yet unreleased Chapter 10, and is part of the little Citadel date thing. Whilst I love this interaction, I felt like it took away from the intention of the date which is meant to be a moment of respite or calm before a lot of intense action stuff and some emotional turmoil as well. This interaction goes some very interesting places, but it also ends up creating a dark atmosphere that sort of overshadows everything else. In every extrapolation I could think of from this point forward, Bailie would want to be alone to process this for some time to think really hard on this, and that’s not what I’m going for right now. For context, this scene comes a little after a conversation in which Shepard discusses that whatever's going on between them has to be Joker's call, and not hers, for reasons that should be somewhat obvious.

“Is there anything to see around here?” she asked, giving her leg a tentative stretch.

“I dunno, but let’s go find out. I mean, if we don’t find out within the next five hundred yards, we’ll probably both die, but we can at least say we tried.” He stood up, and a flash of bemusement crossed his features before he took her hand to help her to her feet. “Heh. I guess it’s the lame leading the lame.”

She put the crutches under her arms. For once, it was Joker who was waiting up on her. In the time since getting the cast she had figured out a good technique, and was soon keeping up. It felt good to move. She missed doing push ups before her morning shower, making unnecessary trips all around the decks without thinking about it. Hell, she missed just walking briskly, but as the days went by it was easier, she had to admit.

“I think this will come off soon, and I’ll get that brace.”

“Upgrade. Just, when you do, don’t pull a me and immediately put yourself back in crutches because getting to walk was so great. I did that twice.”

 Perhaps it was her imagination, but he really did seem to be walking just a little straighter. Joker always had this odd shamble to his gait that came from the way he tried to minimise the time he spent on just one foot during each step. He held his right shoulder up as a kind of counterweight to what she assumed was some kind of reduction in control of his left leg, but his posture looked more even as of late. He checked over his shoulder to make sure she was still following along.

“You’ll never guess who I’ve just seen up ahead,” he said, and nodded towards a quaint little shop front with a yellow awning. Grunt’s hulking shape sat at a wrought iron table, his bulk making it look miniscule. Even at this distance she could see his grin as he spread butter on a tiny round thing - a tea cake, she surmised. He looked up and saw them, and Shepard felt herself laugh softly as Grunt looked about, conflicted. She watched the gears turning in his head. Stay hidden? Or tea cake? 

“What’s with him?” asked Joker. 

“Oh. He was a little worried about me going off the ship, so I told him he could come along if he just stayed out of sight.”

“Krogan chaperone, huh? Let's go annoy him. He won’t headbutt me if you’re here.”

“You’re the boss,” she said, and turned up the little side street that headed up to the door. 

The smile he gave her was halfway between a smirk and something rather salacious. “Yeah, you’re right. I am.”

“I’ve created a monster,” she said under her breath, just loud enough for him to catch.

“Oh, you have no idea,” he said as he pulled the door open and held it for her. 

She met his eyes as she passed through. “I had no idea you were such a shameless flirt, I’ll give you that.”

“I’m a man of many talents. Shameless and otherwise,” he said, and tapped on the bill of his cap.

“Perhaps I’ll be the judge of that,” she said coolly. Her comment had the intended effect, it seemed, as he cleared his throat and looked away from her toward the menu at the far wall. She continued on past tables full of patrons. She ignored the familiar, yet unpleasant sensation of eyeballs tracking her as she moved. I’ll never get used to being a public figure, really, she thought as she approached Grunt’s little table. These people don’t seem to recognise who I am though, which is good… News about that won’t be widespread yet. I think they’re just looking at the crutches.

“Hey Grunt,” she said and pulled up a chair. “How’s the tea cakes?”

“Good with jam,” he said, closing his eyes as he nodded towards three empty jars to the side. “I like tea. Dr Chakwas said I should try some. I understand it now.” He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes at her. “You smell different.”

“Uh,” Shepard replied with a bemused chuckle. “I do?”

“Hmm,” said Grunt as he picked up another cake. “Less adrenaline. Not as sharp. Did you get bored of being alone with Joker? Is that why you’re here?”

“No,” she said and smiled. “The opposite. I’m relaxed, I think.”

“You think?” Grunt echoed. She had to laugh as he picked up a teacup, dwarfed in his huge three-fingered hand. The loud crash of a serving tray falling to the floor caught their attention, and Shepard looked up to see an asari behind the counter staring directly at her. At the counter, Joker looked from her to Shepard and back, then said something she couldn’t hear. The asari looked livid. Her whole body tensed as she strode out from behind the counter with a purposeful look in her eyes.

“Huh,” said Grunt. “You smell normal again.”

 “I’ll serve these two, but you need to leave,” she said through gritted teeth. Shepard blinked.

“I’m sorry, have I done something?”

“Your crew can eat here,” she said, straining to keep her voice down. “But not you, Commander. Not after what you did to my husband.”

“Your husband?” Shepard felt like she had whiplash and found herself shaking her head with confusion. “Ma’am, I’ll leave if you don’t want me here, but I’m not sure --”

“Dantius. Towers,” she hissed. “I’m not going to say how I got the footage, but I saw you.”

Shepard groped about for her crutches. She saw Joker cut in at the side of the asari, who hadn’t blinked the entire conversation, focussed with an uncomfortable intensity on her. She looked ready to throw a punch as Shepard stood up, but he took the initiative. Joker put himself between them. Shepard blinked in surprise at him.

“Not to worry Ma’am, we heard you and we’ll be leaving,” he said.

“Amazing,” she said as she watched Shepard put the crutches under her arms. “Maybe the Goddess does dispense some justice after all,” she said. “You push my husband out of a window, and you end up in crutches as payment.”

“Oh, I remember that guy,” said Grunt. “He wouldn’t tell us what we needed to know. He was a coward, and he died a coward’s death. You should find a new husband. He was unworthy of you.”

“Grunt!” said Shepard and Joker both in unison. The waitress was too stunned to speak.

“I overheard you,” Grunt said toward her. “You said he ran with them to get money to make this shop. A worthy mate would have stayed with you, here, and built this place with his bare hands if he had to.”

“Grunt,” said Joker. “We all remember that guy. Shut up. You’re not helping.”

The krogan’s mouth was open as if to speak, but he closed it and remained silent. He thumped his fists on the iron table before he got to his feet. The look on the woman’s face was hard to read. She flickered between fury, abject heartbreak, and shock.

“Ma’am,” Shepard said, clearing her throat. Joker pulled back, out of the way and she stood up straight, ignoring the pain tearing up her calf as she placed some of her weight down. “I can’t bring your husband back. I did what I felt I had to do. Your husband and I both chose our lives, and he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Tears were brimming in the asari’s eyes which she blinked at last. “Yes, he was. I’m… I heard that a Justicar swore herself into your service. That is the only reason why I’m… I’m not doing something we’ll both regret right now.” People were beginning to look up from their tables as the widow daubed at her eyes. “I know you can’t really be evil, but I don’t want you here.”

Shepard let out a brief, sympathetic sigh. “I know that it isn’t worth very much coming from me, but I’m sorry for your loss. Thank you for your restraint here, today.” Without another word, she swung past, back out the door she had come. I wonder if I could have been so reserved, in her place? She took a moment to remember that split second decision at the towers that night. I was so focussed on my mission that I forgot I was dealing with a person. Something disturbing occurred to her. How often do I do that? She wondered. How often do I forget that they’re just… people?

 “Yeah, you can talk now, I didn’t mean shut up forever, just… Read the room a little.” Joker’s voice came from behind her.

“I know that. I was helping,” said Grunt.

“You weren’t,” he said. “Man. What are the odds?”

[supraveng]

Agent of Shield - chapter 4

A/N: no warnings really and sorry for the delay,  planning to have a new chapter every Sunday :) 

Summary: You are a relatively new agent at Shield, but not a field agent, apparently that is about to change when you meet the Avengers and they realize you are a valuable asset

Word Count: ~3150

Chapter 4

“Who are you and how did you do that?” you turn around to see Natasha Romanoff coming towards you with a quirked eyebrow and determination.  You realize that she must be an incredible interrogator because you are nearly frozen in fear.  “I’m Y/N Miller and how did I do what?” you respond attempting to sound confident even though you know you are failing miserably.  

She doesn’t answer right away, staring at you, trying to figure you out. “You spoke to Fury like that and lived’ she deadpanned.   You almost started to laugh when you realized everyone was waiting for your answer.  “Lived? That’s a bit extreme don’t ya think? He’s just Nick Fury” you shrugged.  

“He shot my friend Ned in the neck because I was ghosting his phone calls” you turn to see a teenager smiling at you from behind Natasha.   At that you did start laughing “ok, that’s hilarious” you choked out catching your breath.  

“Wait, you aren’t joking?” you questioned as you looked around to everyone else in the gym clearly listening to your conversation.  “No, but it was just a tranq dart, so he just slept it off.   I’m Peter Parker by the way” he stuck out his hand and stood right next to Natasha.  “Nice to meet you Peter, and I’m sorry about your friend Ned” you responded with a bit of hesitation.  “Oh, no worries, it’s one of his greatest moments, he was honored” he replied as everyone looked over at him.    

“We actually have some time restraints on our session today, so maybe you can catch up on all this later” Maria interjects, and you give her a grateful smile.  You follow her to the floor mat and mouth a thank you when she turns toward you.  “He also told me to not hold back, so I hope you are ready for this” she states with a smirk and gets into a fighting stance.  

“You do realize how ridiculous this is right?” you respond as you attempt to get ready.  “I mean, it would make more sense for you to attack me in the hall, when I least expect it, and make it a real fight.  This is too planned out and predictable” you state as she lunges toward you, you twist and block her punch and elbow her in the side before stepping back.  

“I see you coming, and between your eye shift and the 15-degree angle difference between your left and right foot, I know exactly what your next move is going to be.” She stops short and looks down at her feet “my what?” she asks, just as you grab her wrist, sweep her leg and pin her to the mat.  “Oh nothing, I was just trying to distract you.   I thought you were better than this Hill?”  you taunt still holding her in place.   She pats the mat twice and you release your hold and step back.  

“That’s cute, I’ve known you for how long and you treat me like this?” she asks with a smirk. “That’s the thing about Miller’s, the longer you know us the tougher we get” you respond as she jabs your right side, your attempt to block is stopped and the next thing you know you are flat on your back on the mat.  You roll away quickly and are back on your feet before Maria can take advantage and pin you.  “I have known you a few years, and had no idea you had a hot brother, how could you keep something so important from me?” she questions as she takes a few breaths before approaching me again.   

“That troll?  You need better taste in men!  Besides, he’s somewhere on the west coast, I think.  And, he doesn’t come to NY very often.”   The two of you continue your banter and sparing until you are flat on your back with a split lip and a bloody nose.   You grab Maria’s hand that she offers and begin to slowly ease off the mat, just enough to yank her over your head and on her back.  “Dammit!” she yells as she lands.   

“Come on, you can’t expect to get away with sucker punching me like that!” you respond as you wipe the blood away from face. “You might as well stay down there, I’ll pin you again after I get some water” you taunt as you move away from the mat.  

“Are you ok?” you hear someone as behind you and you slowly turn around as you are drinking from your water bottle.  “Oh my gosh, your bleeding!  Let me get you some ice!” she starts but you just shake your head.  “No, I’m fine really, I’m Y/N by the way.  I’d offer you my hand but its kinda gross at the moment” you respond as you look down and realize there’s more blood on your hands than you thought.  “it’s nice to meet you, I’m Wanda.  I haven’t seen you around before, are you a new recruit?” she asks. 

 “No, I’ve been with SHIELD for about 3 years, but mostly desk work.   I think Fury finally caught on to my ducking out on my regular training and is torturing my by letting Maria try to kick my ass.” You respond as you hear Maria chuckle behind you.   “Try? Miller, you are the one that’s bleeding, not me!”  “Oh Hilly, I’m just getting started, that was warm up!” you respond and start bouncing on your feet.   

“No, that was an hour and I’ve had enough of you.  Let’s go shower than meet at the gun range” she walks off before you can protest.  “Well, I better get going Wanda, I don’t want Fury to shoot me for being late.”  You state as you look up to the observation deck to make sure he heard your remark.  

He shakes his head and continues to watch the training session with Tony and Steve.   “Are we any closer to locating Makarov? If we aren’t this conversation is wasting my time” Fury states as he watches you walk out of the gym.  Tony huffs, “it’s not a waste of time to know that you have highly skilled agents who aren’t being utilized to their fullest.   She clearly can hold her own on the field by what we just saw with Hill.  And honestly, I think she should join us solely for assistance with the victims, not in the actual capture of Makarov.”   

Steve turns to Tony, not realizing what he had planned until now and was a little surprised, his request was not selfishly putting you in danger. “I hate to say this but Tony’s right, she will be able to communicate better with the victims when they are located and considering what they have been through at this point, they would be more likely to trust her than a bunch of agents in tactical gear. But if she’s with us on this, she also needs to be ready for anything and we need to know she can defend herself if nothing else.  Anyone else want to sneak a peak at the gun range?”  Steve states as he heads out the door.  

You exit the locker room, back in your regular work attire and head for the gun range.   You enter to see Maria and Natasha chatting between shots as the turn and look you over when you enter the room.  “You’re planning on practicing in a dress and heels?” Natasha asks with a quirk of her eyebrow. How does she do that? It’s sexy and intimidating at that same time, damn! “Well, yes” you reply “I wear heels as often as possible; it just makes my ass look better.   And you can’t really conceal a thigh holster wearing pants” you shrug as you stand at the stall next to her.   

You finish your first magazine and start to reload, you can feel Natasha staring at you.   You turn towards her “do you have any pointers for me?” “Not at all, I’m actually curious how you emptied 18 shots in a target but only left 3 holes?” she responded with a slight smirk.  “Yea, sorry, I never learned how to make patterns.  I could do a square and a triangle but if you want something more creative like a flower or star, I’m not your girl” you respond looking at the paper target at the other end of the room.  

“So, you put 6 shots in each of the spots on the target?” you turn to see Tony Stark questioning your shooting.  You smirk before responding “not exactly, I was taught to shoot to kill, so there are more shots to the head than elsewhere on the target.  But, if you’d like me to even it out, I’d be happy to on the next round.  Fury usually makes me empty at least 4 mags before letting me move on, apparently anything less could be considered luck.”  

“Ok, now I’m intrigued.  You said taught rather than trained, so you aren’t former military?” “God no!  I don’t do camo” you respond as you reload. Natasha smiles and chimes in “Well, I say we have a girls night out to get to know you better.  And since Maria did a number on your face today, I say she’s buying.”  She pats Tony on the shoulder as she passes “I like her, don’t do anything stupid” she warns and then leave the room.  

“I didn’t agree to buying drinks!”  Maria yells as Natasha leaves and waves off her comment.  You turn towards Maria and grin “you can agree to drinks or give me a chance for payback.”   “Fine, be ready at 8, but drinks are on Tony” she responds looking at him hoping he’ll agree.  “The guys aren’t invited but I still have to pay?  How is that fair?”  he states eyeing Maria who is back to focusing on the target.   

“And besides, I’m surprised Agent Miller doesn’t already have plans for the evening.  A hot date maybe?”  “That’s a big negative, deleted that stupid dating app as soon as I left here on Saturday. And with my FACE all scarred up like it is, I wouldn’t want to torture any man to have to sit through an entire meal looking at this”  you say loud enough to add a little extra guilt to Maria, who just looks over and rolls her eyes.  

“I don’t know, I can think of a few gentlemen that would enjoy your undivided attention, no matter what.  Isn’t that right, Cap?” he remarks as he heads toward the door.   Steve looks at you with a small smile and quickly turns to follow Tony out of the room.  You turn to Maria and mouth “What the hell was that?”   She just laughs and nods her head toward the targets.  

“I get that this is good training, but I’m pretty sure the bad guys aren’t going to just stand there and wait for you to shoot at them to take em down.   A moving target would be more realistic and helpful on missions.” You state mostly to yourself, not realizing that Fury was watching the entire training session.

Before you can finish your next rounds, FRIDAY is interrupting your concentration.   “Excuse me Agent Miller, Director Fury would like you to report to his office at your earliest convenience.”    “Thank you, I will be right there” you respond and begin to break down your weapon and gather up your belongings.  

You stood outside of Fury’s office and took a deep breath before knocking.   You were usually pretty confident, but after the stories you heard today, you weren’t sure you really knew Nick Fury at all.   You opened the door slowly after he called you in. “Training went well I see” Fury stated motioning to your split lip.  “Hill sucker punched me, and she will pay for it” you responded.  Fury looked at you and made a small nod.  

“You’ve been very helpful this week, if you are needed to join the team on the mission, I want to insure you are well prepared.”  “Of course, I’m ready, I wouldn’t be here if I weren’t.  Isn’t that what you told me?” you respond with a grin.  “But I do have a question for you?  Do they know my full story?  I know you have a way of keeping things confidential.” You looked at him quizzically and his face remained stoic, never giving away anything.  

“Come on Nick, does my official SHIELD profile include that I’m a convicted felon or is that a little surprise that’s gonna pop up later and bite me in the ass?  I have a right to know.”  “Your record includes important information, and if you think you are the only one on this team with a history of being on the wrong side of the law at one point in their lives, your delusional” he stated with a small smirk.  

“Anything else? Or can we get back to work?”  “Well, ya actually.  I’ve heard some rumors about you and honestly, I’m a bit shocked.” “What sort of rumors?” he questioned as he settled back in his chair.   “Oh, shooting people for ghosting your calls?” you respond as he gives you a blank stare.   

“Seriously?  This extreme grumpy old man thing you have going on is making everyone think you are an asshole.   Is that really what you want?”  “You know damn well I don’t give a shit what others think of me.   Have I taught you nothing?”  he responds with a shake of his head.  “And you shouldn’t listen to the rumors around here.  This place is worse than high school.  And I’m not old!”   “Ok, Uncle Nicki, you aren’t old.   And sorry about dad calling you so early yesterday, it won’t happen again” you respond embarrassed that it happened in the first place.  “It’s alright Pumpkin!”  he states with a big grin. 

 You roll your eyes as you shake your head “if there’s nothing else, I should probably get back to my desk” you stand to leave just as Nick pulls you in for a hug.  “I’m proud of you kiddo, and you will be training all week, just in case” he states as he walks you out of his office.  “In that case, you owe me dinner!” you smirk as you leave his office.

Returning home, you are ready to flop on the couch after an exhausting day, but you are immediately greeted by Toby with a wagging tale and a ton of kisses.   You switch out of your heels and into sneakers to take a stroll through the neighborhood.   Toby is still excited and wanting to explore but also becoming very protective and not going more than a foot or two away from you at any moment.  You are about to grab dinner and head back to your apartment when you get a text

Unknown: Be ready by 7, Pepper and Wanda are joining us, so we are doing dinner first.

Y/N: Who is this? How did you get this number?

Unknown:  It’s Natasha, we will pick you up at 7, be ready or we’ll drag you out half dressed

Y/N: I have no doubt you would, see you then

“Alright Toby, let’s get you some dinner so I can have some fun!”  

You made your way back to your apartment and fed Toby before hoping in the shower.   Staring at your closet you are at a lose for what to wear.   You knew Maria and just met Natasha but had no idea where you were going so picking something for dinner and drinks out seemed to be a bit more of a struggle than you anticipated.   A date was one thing but making friends with women you respected wasn’t always easy.   Not that an outfit would make or break that, you just wanted it to be easy and fun.   You decided on your favorite red heels, black leather pants, white lace top and leopard print clutch.  

You finished your makeup just as you heard a knock at the door.   Toby barked before coming to find you and let you know there was someone there. You patted his head as you opened the door to find Natasha dressed in all black with a smirk on her face.  

“All set? The ladies are in the car waiting” she stated as she looked around.  “I am, but no thigh holster tonight so if I break a nail, I’m gonna make SHIELD pay for a spa day” you remark as you pass her and head toward the stairs.   “That works for me, as long as I’m invited” she replies.   

You are out of the building and see a black SUV waiting for you.   After climbing in you turn to see Pepper and Wanda smiling at you, stretching out your hand your introduce yourself.  

The third bottle of wine is being poured and you honestly have never had a better time with people you barely know.  “I can see why the guys are so intrigued by you, smart, beautiful and funny,  how are you single?” Pepper asks as she sips from her glass.  You nearly spit out your wine at her nonchalant comment 

“What guys are intrigued by me? I’m nothing special and the reason I’m single is because I am a certified asshole magnet and have taken a vow to not put up with anyone else’s shit” you state as you finish your glass.   All four women nod and begin to laugh, “Oh sweetie, we’ve all been there” Wanda states as she places her hand on yours.  You look up at her with a smile of thanks for her genuine concern and empathy.  

“Ok, but you can’t just stop dating because of a few bad boyfriends” Maria looks at you “if that was the best route, we’d all be single for the rest of our lives” she practically shouts.  “I wish is was a few, but literally every boyfriend I’ve had since the 6th grade has progressively gotten worse and worse.  My last boyfriend, let’s just call him the King of the Assholes” to which everyone starts laughing.  “He got me fired from my job at the UN, if it hadn’t been for Nick coming to my rescue, I don’t know where I would be now.” 

The table got quiet and you knew it was because of the intense turn your story had taken, but it’s the truth and you and wine only tell the truth.  “Yea, about that, what’s up with you and Fury anyway?  You seem close, closer than I’ve seen him with anyone.” Natasha asks, and you are thankful for the turn in the conversation.  “Oh, well, he’s like an uncle to me.  He and my dad were in basic training together and he’s just always been Nick or Nicki, which he doesn’t like and just encourages me to keep doing it” you shrug.

@farfromjustordinary @ilovesupersoldiers 

[let-it-raines]

Not Your (soul)Mate {3/?}

Killian Jones doesn’t like the idea of soulmates. He sees how happy his friends are with theirs, but he still doesn’t like the idea, not when he’s found love and lost it time and time again only to still not know his sign. He has no markings on his skin, no voices in his head, but then one day he meets Emma Swan and everything changes. Because, well, he may not have ink on his skin to tell him who to love, but the very first time that he hears Emma’s voice he knows that she’s the one for him. Then again, that could simply be his desire talking. After all, for every word she speaks, he becomes aroused.

It’s not the worst thing in the world to be incredibly attracted to a beautiful woman, but things aren’t that simple when she doesn’t have any interest in being his soulmate.

He’s screwed. And not in the good way.

Rating: Mature

A/N: Are you guys ready for some meddling friends and conversations about stealing bread? Cool. I am too 💜 As always, thank you to @captainsjedi for her beautiful artwork and supportive reading and to the organizers of @cssns for putting this event together! 😘

Sorry for reposting. Something weird happened, and I had to delete it and try again!

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 |

Tag list: @captswanis4vr @a-faekindagirl @galaxyzxstark @emmas-storybook @searchingwardrobes @spartanguard @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis@dreameronarooftop15 @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke@tiganasummertree @wellhellotragic @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld@jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @superchocovian @ultraluckycatnd @artistic-writer @cs-forlife @andiirivera @qualitycoffeethings @jonirobinson64 @mariakov81@xellewoods @thejollyroger-writer @cssns

-/-

“I’m going to kill you for dragging me out here.”

“No you’re not.”

“Asshole.”

“Wanker.”

“Bastard.”

“You’re my brother, so if I’m a bastard, so are you!”

Killian stops running, his feet halting in their tracks, as his breath fully escapes him. They’ve been out here for over an hour, and his legs are burning. Hell, his entire body is burning, every inch of him slick with sweat that is doing nothing to put out the flames. He can practically feel his heart beating between his ears, and he knows that he shouldn’t hastily stop his running, that he should walk it out, but he can’t physically run anymore.

As much as he likes having their workouts done before work, sometimes six in the morning is too early when they don’t even have to be in the office until ten.

Scratch that. All of the time. Six is too early all of the time, and he’s an early riser most days. Unlike Liam, he’s never quite gotten out of a lot of the routines he became accustomed to in the Navy, but he likes to spend that time drinking his coffee or tea and eating breakfast, possibly catching up on some television or on what’s going on the world that he might need to know about. That’s not always the most pleasant thing, but it’s a necessary thing.

“I can’t believe,” he huffs, stretching his arms over his head to try to catch his breath and relieve some of the tension that’s pulling at all of his muscles while a pleasant breeze blows up from the beach, “that you basically just gave me a version of ‘I know you are but what am I.’”

“I probably got it from Luis and Luca. They’ve really been into fighting with each other lately.”

He looks over to his brother, eyes flickering down to his feet which are still moving despite the fact that they’ve stopped their run. The man is still getting exercise in when he knows that they’ve far surpassed their ten thousand steps...not that he tracks them. He had a fitbit at one point in time, but he may have accidentally dropped it into the ocean one day when he was inspecting one of their boats. He’d been messing with his wrist because his scars were agitated and burning like the dickens, and the damn thing came unclasped.

But really, there is no need for Liam to be still jogging in place. He knows that the man is five years older and that his metabolism might not be as great as Killian’s is right now, but damn. All he wants is to take a nice cold shower, eat some more food, and then maybe watch some television before he goes into work. He’s behind on The Rookie, and he really wants to catch up so that Ariel doesn’t ruin it for him. Whenever they watch the same shows, she always ruins them if he gets behind. And if she doesn’t, it’ll be Will. The only person he can count on to not spoil things is Robin, and that’s only because he doesn’t have time to watch anything that’s rated over G with a six year old at home. Technically Liam could also fall into that category, but Liam so rarely watches television unless Elsa makes him.

Elsa watches a hell of a lot of shows that are entirely in Norwegian so that Luca and Luis are bilingual. Liam is still working on his Norwegian, though. It’s funny, when Liam and Elsa could hear each other’s thoughts, things were always spoken in their native tongues.

It was like Google translate, free of charge and of bad mistranslations.

Imagine their surprise when they met and Liam didn’t speak Norwegian. Elsa speaks fluent English, though. Obviously she’s far superior to Liam.

He’d get his ass kicked if he ever spoke those words out loud.

It might be worth it. It’s most definitely true.

“Traffic is going to get bad if we stay out here too much longer,” he points out, his skin cooling down while his heart starts beating steadily again, normalcy returning to his body.

“We live in Storybrooke. There is no backed up traffic. Let’s do one more mile, and then I promise we’ll be finished. And good news for you, we’re not running tomorrow.”

He takes a deep breath, puffing his chest up, before he takes off, yelling to Liam that whoever gets to the library last has to buy lunch.

(He ends up buying lunch.)

(He’s going to have to start training alone so that he can beat Liam’s ass.)

(Who cares about fitness when being better than your brother is at stake?)

His next few weeks at work are a bit insane. It always is in the spring. On their website they recommend ordering customizations, especially full customizations or total redesigns, in the winter, preferably in the fall, but without fail, everyone seems to put in their orders in the late spring. It’s something about the sunshine being more prevalent, temperatures warming up, and everyone simply gets that itch to be outside, specifically to be on the water. He can’t blame his clients. He feels exactly the same way.

There’s likely no one who enjoys spending time outside, spending time out on the water, more than him, so he gets where everyone is coming from.

It honestly makes his life a little bit of a living hell.

It’s funny because hell is only supposed to be for the dead, and he’s only dead inside.

(Not really.)

Maybe his sense of humor is a little twisted.

Being busy is a good thing. It keeps his hands and mind occupied, and that’s something that he desperately needs right now. He needs something to think about other than his personal life. His friends and his family are great like they’ve always been, but they all have lives of their own that are separate from him. He spends his days at work, evenings as a mixture of personal times and spending time with all of his loved ones, but ever since Ariel’s pregnancy announcement dinner, his mind has been absolutely muddled with thoughts of...everything. He’d say his mind is muddled with thoughts of Emma Swan, but that would only be half the truth. After all, he’s only met her once, and he barely knows anything about her.

Scratch that.

There’s a pretty high probability (and he knows this even if his mathematics may be a little off and out of practice) that she’s his soulmate.

That is absolutely the most insane thing in the world. He doesn’t want a soulmate, not really. A part of him does, but for years now all he’s felt is despair. He doesn’t want to be forced to love someone. And yet only days after the anniversary of Milah leaving him, he might have met the woman who is supposedly the love of his life.

But what if he’d already met his?

What if he can’t love again after Milah? What if the universe is telling him to move on in a very big way and he’s not ready? What is he supposed to do with that?

It doesn’t even matter. Emma had been kind and witty, bloody well one of the most beautiful women he’s ever seen, but she’d very clearly not been interested in him. Obviously she was sexually, if only because they apparently literally cannot help themselves (She’s obviously stronger with her restraint than he is.), but she made it clear as day that nothing was going to become of them. He doesn’t know her, doesn’t know her background outside of what he’s picked up from friends, but she seemed just as averse to soulmates as he was.

Maybe they are kindred spirits.

Obviously they are.

But maybe in a different way.

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know anything, really.

He’s freaking Jon Snow.

(Is it still funny to make that joke now that the show is over?)

(It doesn’t matter. He’s still going to make that joke.)

It’s all a confusing mess. He’s met the woman he’s supposed to be with. He’s met his soulmate like all of his friends and family have, but he imagines that not a single one of them had an aversion to their loves to the point of them meeting and then never speaking again despite having access to each other. It’d be a bit of a roundabout way, but he could still talk to her if he really wanted to. All he’d have to do is go to the police station, frequent Granny’s Diner since that’s where Ariel and Emma eat lunch together, or literally ask any one of his friends for her number.

But Emma’s not interested.

Besides, when they met, he spilled water down her dress, making it see through, and then they’d made each other aroused to the point that she caught him wanking one off. It was not one of his finer moments, so it might be for the best that they don’t see each other for awhile. Or forever. It’s not like they can talk to each other in public anyhow. Emma may be able to hide how it affects her, but he cannot no matter how many unpleasant thoughts he thinks.

Seriously. He’s come up with a lot of boner killers over the years, and none of them work.

The universe is fucking with them because it wants them to fuck.

Will: Belle wants to invite you over for dinner tomorrow. Can you make it?

He looks down at his phone, at the message that just popped up. Belle is always inviting him over for dinner. She’s an absolute sweetheart, but he honestly thinks she must assume he doesn’t eat or that he’s lonely. He does eat, and he isn’t lonely. But Belle and Will are both brilliant cooks, most likely because Belle spends her days in a library that has a section full of cook books and Will is always experimenting with food at the Rabbit Hole. So he’s definitely not going to complain.

Killian: Sure! What time?

Will: Six. We’ve got to do it before I go to work.

Killian: Okay, I’ll make sure to leave the office early.

He’s just put his phone back on his desk when it buzzes again, Will’s message popping up on the screen.

Will: At Belle’s apartment, not mine.

Cue the Tag Team because Whoomp (there it is).

He’s being set up on a double date with Emma, and he’s already agreed to go. He already knows that’s what happened because never once have they gone to Belle’s apartment instead of Will’s. Not once.

Sneaky bastards.

Starting tomorrow he’s designing himself a boat...no, he’s designing himself a ship that he can live in for the rest of his days, because he needs to leave Storybrooke in order to avoid Emma Swan.

He’s not even sure if he wants to. All he knows is that he can’t possibly be in public with her.

This entire dinner is going to be spent with him sitting at the table dying a little inside with every word, isn’t it?

No one told him life was going to be this way.

(He’s got to stop quoting songs.)

Maybe she won’t be there. Maybe he’s wrong. Maybe Will’s apartment has a gas leak or something and that’s why the dinner is at Belle’s.

-/-

He hears Emma talking from outside the apartment door before he gets to the end of the hallway where their apartment is. His thing with sounds, his unfortunate ability to be able to hear absolutely everything unless he’s actively focusing on not hearing it or distracted by something else, is somehow heightened when Emma talks or laughs or even, he assumes, when she sneezes. He has a visceral reaction to it, his entire body heating and tensing, and he hasn’t figured out how to control it, how to make it stop.

There’s about thirty seconds from now until he’s inside that apartment to figure it out.

He doesn’t figure it out.

“Hi,” Belle smiles the moment she opens the door, not even letting him gather his bearings or knock. Belle might very well be the most considerate person he knows, Mary Margaret aside, and she has no idea that she is helping in his demise.

He’s not dramatic in the slightest.

(He definitely is.)

“Hello, love,” he greets, leaning down to kiss her cheek and handing her the bottle of wine he’s brought with him. He prefers to bring homemade food, but he came straight from work and only had time to grab something from the grocery store down the street. “You look absolutely beautiful today.”

“Thank you. Why don’t you come in? I hope you don’t mind that Emma is here. You two have met, right?”

He’s about to answer Belle, to say that they have, even if he sees the cheeky smile on Belle’s face, when Emma turns around from her seat at the table and sees him. She’s in leggings and a sweatshirt, her feet only covered in comically mismatched socks, and her hair is pulled back into a ponytail under a baseball cap. And if the way her lips keep parting before coming together again is any indication, she had no idea that he was coming.

Surprise.

She’s going to hate him.

This was definitely some kind of set up. Never in doubt.

“Hello, Swan,” he waves, awkwardly putting his hand in the air and moving his fingers. Her mouth snaps closed, lips pressing into a firm line, and he sees her eyes roll even under the shadow of her cap. She’s not happy that he’s here, and he doesn’t blame her. They’re in a bit of a complicated situation.

Instead of speaking (thank goodness), Emma simply waves back with a flick of her wrist and the slightest nod of her head. He’s grateful for that, truly. This entire night is going to be torture, but she’s doing him a kindness there. It’s the little things in life.

“Oi, why do you look like the cat has your tongue, mate?”

“Shut up, Scarlett.”

“You know I’m incapable of that. Besides, milady likes the sound of my voice.”

“I don’t know what you see in him,” he sighs to Belle as he walks into the apartment and settles against the kitchen counter next to the table where Emma is alternating between shooting him daggers and completely avoiding his gaze. He should probably stop talking, but he’s not entirely sure how to do that when he’s having dinner. Conversation is kind of expected.

They could all become mimes.

The apartment is a small place, especially for two people, but Emma and Belle have it decorated in soft whites and creams with green and blue pillows and accents everywhere. As well as books. He shouldn’t be surprised at that, especially with Belle living here, but he wasn’t expecting them to have an entire wall of the things. It’s nice though, cozy even. He loves his apartment, but there’s a certain staleness to it sometimes. He doesn’t have much there, just his leather couch with one or two pillows and a painting of the horizon at the bay hanging over his television. He’s got bookshelves too, but it’s nothing like the packed space before him. He wonders if Emma is a bookworm as well.

He hopes that she likes flowers for all of the ones that Belle’s father sends them from his shop.

“He’s surprisingly kind when he’s not being an asshole.”

“So once or twice a year then?”

There’s a loud snicker, more of a snort really, and he whips his head to the right to see Emma covering her mouth, her shoulders shaking the slightest bit. Well, look at that. He made her laugh. It may be a good night already.

“You find that funny, love?” he teases, not able to stop himself from talking when he knows that she must be losing her mind. Maybe he’s a bit sadistic, but it’s kind of fun watching her squirm and knowing that there’s nothing she can do to stop him.

“You? Funny? I don’t believe it’s your allotted one time a year for that.”

The beginnings of arousal spark at the base of his spine, but it’s not enough to do anything. Thank fuck.

“It’s not a funny joke when you have to steal it from me, love.”

“That’s cute that you thought it was a funny joke to begin with.”

“Aww, sweetheart,” Will sighs, leaning back in his chair so that it props up on two legs while he looks at Belle who is grabbing glasses out of the cabinet, “would you look at the two of them flirting?”

“We are not flirting,” he and Emma say at the same time while the real hum of arousal starts to spread across his skin. Sighing, he speaks again on his own. “Belle, would you like some help with dinner since your boyfriend is a wanker who isn’t helping you out?”

“You guys are such weird friends, but sure. That’d be great.”

He helps Belle butter slices of toast while she gets the lasagna out of the oven, the two of them easily moving in and out of the kitchen. His left hand being near heat can sting sometimes, so he tries to avoid it on days where he has pains. It’s been nearly a decade since the accident, and sometimes it’s like nothing has changed. He and Belle fill in casual conversation, catching up on how they’ve been while Belle recommends him some new books to come pick up from the library, and Will occasionally adds something in to make Belle laugh, her entire face lighting up. He sees Emma get up from the table and stalk off to what must be her room, and not a part of him blames her. It’s likely what’s best for the both of them, and he appreciates it.

Until she comes back into the room right as they start to eat, silently fixing herself a plate and settling down across from him. He can’t help but watch her, be fascinated by her. For someone who he knows is intelligent and graceful, incredibly athletic if her legs and arms are anything to go by, she’s not very graceful as she eats. He can’t count the amount of times she’s gotten sauce on her chin and he’s had to motion to his own to get her to wipe it off. It’s funny, if he’s honest with himself, but he’s also pretty sure that each move he makes causes Emma to hate him that little bit more.

Hate may be too strong of a word. She simply wants absolutely nothing to do with him. That’s all.

And that’s totally not hate.

Belle and Will are most definitely trying to set the two of them up, as every other sentence is some kind of not-so-gentle nudge for he and Emma to talk to each other. Emma is much better at avoiding everything, deftly nodding her head in answer or giving as curt of a response as possible. He’s not so adept at it, getting roped into saying a bit more than Emma does. He can’t help himself, even though he’s pretty sure that she’s going to murder him and then hide the evidence. She is a detective, after all.

He’s taking a sip of his wine while Belle and Will are having some kind of argument over their upcoming vacation. It’s refreshing to see that even with the whole soulmate thing that people still have normal arguments and petty squabbles. It makes life seem more…real and not like he’s living in some kind of manufactured box.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees Emma slide her phone across the table, the screen lit up with the messaging app open. He takes it, pulling it into his side so Belle and Will don’t see. It’s not like they’re paying attention anyways. They’re currently debating if they should go to England or to the beach in Florida. He’s not really sure how that’s a competition, but then again, sometimes people like sunshine.

Sometimes people also like not burning up in the fiery pits of hell of Florida.

If we leave right now, I bet they won’t even notice.

He chuckles at her words, looking up and curving his lips into a smile only to see her looking down intently focusing on what he assumes is a split end on her ponytail. Obviously he knows that she wanted him to see this message. She typed it and sent her phone over to him, but she’s acting like he doesn’t exist. It’s an odd disconnect, but he guesses this is how this is going to go.

Do you think we can take the bread with us?

God no. Belle would snap our heads off. The bread isn’t even worth it.

The bread is always worth it.

That gets a laugh out of Emma, even if he almost missed her small snicker. But he can see the slightest tick of her lips, the smallest of smiles peeking out.

Damn. It feels good to make her smile.

He’s not supposed to be feeling that way.

At least he’s not feeling aroused. That’s a damn good feeling and all, but it’s not something he really wants to deal with right now. It still may be the most idiotic soulmate (or maybe not soulmate and just some sick, twisted game the universe is playing with the two of them to screw them up even more) sign in the world, and while he’s still wondering just how long he’s going to have to suffer with it, it may not be the worst thing in the world.

As long as he doesn’t speak to Emma.

That seems pretty easy since they probably won’t be stuck eating another meal together.

He’s not sure how he feels about that.

“Killian,” Belle huffs, slapping her hands against the table just as he’s texting himself on Emma’s phone so that he has her number, something that contradicts every logical thought that he’s had all night (and something that will probably piss her off), “will you please tell Will that we don’t need to go to England when we can go somewhere nice and relaxing like the beach in Miami, which is definitely different than the beach here?”

“I – ”

“Florida sucks,” Emma starts, inching her glass into the middle of the table so that he can covertly slide her phone back to her. “It’s not only hot but also humid, and the people there are assholes.”

“Oh Emma,” Belle sighs, her eyes widening with what he thinks is compassion, “just because Neal is – ”

“It’s not about Neal,” Emma barks, cutting Belle off. If he wasn’t so interested in who Neal is and why he causes such a reaction from Emma, he’d probably notice the slight tingling sensation that’s working its way over himself. “Go to Spain or something. You get Europe and the beach. I’m going to bed.”

With that Emma gets up from the table and stalks over to her room, slamming the door shut behind her. He thought that things were going well tonight, especially with their little back and forth over the phone, but whatever just happened obviously made her change her mind.

“Damn, Jones. What’d you do to make her so mad? I told you she could kick all of our asses.”

He holds his hands up and shakes his head from side to side. “I didn’t do a thing. She was fine.”

“Until I mentioned Neal,” Belle laments, her lips parting slightly before snapping shut. He so wants to ask who Neal is, the words on the tip of his tongue, but it’s none of his business. Emma might not be interested in him, despite her being kind of friendly to him tonight, but if she’s really his soulmate, he’d like to get to know her on his own. Betraying her trust doesn’t seem like the best way to start that. And if she isn’t his soulmate, he’d still like to get to know her. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Why? You think Emma doesn’t enjoy talking about her bastard of an ex?”

An ex.

He figured that, but it’s still…nice, he guesses, to have confirmation even if he doesn’t want to know more.

“I just hate that she’s been hurt so badly,” Belle sighs, rising from the table and collecting plates. He stands with her, not about to let her take care of everything when she cooked. “I wish she could find her soulmate so that she could have that partnership, you know? Like us, Will.”

“You and I both bloody well know that Emma will shove her soulmate away whenever she finds him. She’s not about to fall for everything just because someone tells her to.”

Boy do they have no idea.

He doesn’t stay there much longer, only helping to clean up and chat with Will and Belle a bit more, before he’s leaving Belle and Emma’s apartment and walking home thinking about all of the little bits that he learned about Emma tonight. She’s definitely got protective layers around her heart, something he can understand, but he can also see some of the cracks that let in her friendliness and her humor. Sure, the humor might be a defense mechanism, but it’s still humor.

He rather likes her, he thinks.

He’s not sure if it’s just as friends or some kind of crush, but he knows that he doesn’t seem to hate her. Really, he’d love to talk to her some more. If only the universe didn’t suck and they didn’t have this teeny tiny (in his case big if he does say so himself) problem that keeps them from doing that.

Never in his life has he hated getting turned on this easily.

(Except maybe in secondary school in the middle of a mathematics exam, but that’s an unfortunate story for another day.)

Walking into his apartment, he turns on the lights and kicks off his shoes, leaning down to put them in the right order on his little rack, before he sheds his jacket and hangs it on its hook. It’s eerily quiet in here compared to his dinner, so when he sits down on his couch and props his feet up on the ottoman, he immediately turns the television on, letting it stay on the History Channel for some background noise on the American Revolution.

His phone vibrates in his pocket, and he responds to Ariel’s text about her time off for a doctor’s appointment next week. He’s about to put it back in his pocket when he remembers Emma’s number in his phone. He could text her, but should he? She probably doesn’t want to hear from him, especially if she’s in a bad mood because Belle mentioned her ex, but it’s almost like he can’t help himself.

Dammit.

He’s thirty-five. He should not be having this much of an issue on deciding whether or not to text a woman he fancies.

Killian: You know, I quite fancy you from time to time when you’re not yelling at me.

One, two, three minutes pass. He watches his screen for all of them.

Emma: I could just block you, you know.

He snickers at that. Of course that’s where she goes first.

Killian: I know. I also know where you live.

Emma: That’s stalkerish, dude.

Killian: Block my number and throw me in a jail cell, love. I’m ready for it.

Emma: Kinky.

Killian: The name’s Killian.

Emma: Asshole.

Killian: I also answer to that.

She takes a few minutes to respond, the little dots popping up on his screen and disappearing over and over again.

Emma: Good.

[friendlyneighborhoodborg]

Marc Appreciation Week 2019| Day 6: Collab| “Working Together”

Okay, this is actually late.  It is past midnight, technically Day 7.

I am actually posting Day 7 later today, hopefully before the week is out.

Anyway here’s the 6th day, and the only chapter in the dumpster fire to actually follow the prompt given.

Disclaimers were in Day 1.

Chapters:

1 2 3 4 5 6 7

AO3 Link

(~3200 biddling words.  Why do I do this to myself?)

           Marc didn’t know what he was.  Today was weird: he didn’t feel girly anymore after last night, but at the same time he didn’t think the “he” suited him today.  He realized this must have been what Alix was talking about before, about non-binary gender.

           Being something that wasn’t a boy or a girl was trippy.  Marc had felt it before, probably, but knowing what it was (which felt obvious now, considering… well, everything he was currently feeling) made it… something.  For all the words he knew, he couldn’t peg one for the experience.

           It occurred that he ought to have been surprised by how quickly he had taken to reconsidering his pronouns.  But then, that’s what his gender did, didn’t it?  Didn’t he always know that his gender did that?  Hadn’t that been such a large source of his anxiety for years?

          And now he was just rolling with it.

          That morning, he had glanced at himself in a mirror, per his usual routine.  His old adjectives, “Not him again” and “Could be worse” were absent this time.  Instead, he had felt heavy.  Overdressed, perhaps, only in his own skin.

          But he could live with that.

          It still stank, because French didn’t have a third-gender pronoun.  That meant that, regardless of his actual self, he had to use male pronouns.

          So, he comfortably got dressed, did up his face in a way he thought would suit him, and left for school.

          Something was different that afternoon.  Alix wasn’t in for some reason, which automatically meant the art teacher (he still kept forgetting his name) was more relaxed.  Juleka and Rose were separated, for once.  Rose was sitting in a corner, feverishly scribbling down notes in her pad.  Juleka was in the opposite corner, reading a horror novel, and her ankle was shackled to a protruding pipe.

          He approached Juleka cautiously, eyeing her restraints warily. “Did, uh…” He glanced up at the teacher, making sure he wasn’t listening.  “Did Alix tell you?”

          “Yeah, she got your text.”  Juleka glanced up meaningfully at her girlfriend, by herself in the corner. “Lucky someone in this club has their head on straight.”

          Marc chuckled.  “I don’t know if we can say that, there’s like one straight person in this club.”

          Juleka smiled for a second, then went back to reading her book. “And where was she, huh?  Crazy overworked, fixing up stuff our last class rep neglected.  Notice she couldn’t drop by all week?”  She calmly flipped the page she was on.  “Once again, Chloé got us into another fine mess that Marinette’s gotta pull us out of.  Again.”

          “What?” said Marc.  “No, I meant… wait, Marinette’s straight?”

          The musician shrugged.  “So she claims.  It is impolite to assume.”  As normal, her expression and tone betrayed little.

          “Biggest shock of my week,” was Marc’s jested reply.  “But I was talking about Nathaniel.”

          “Hm?  Oh yeah.” She pulled up one hand to do finger-quotes.  “‘Straight.’  That’s definitely an adjective that can describe him.  Marc, have you seen the way he draws Chat Noir?”

          “Of course, what about it?”

          “Well, maybe you’re both blinded by the superhero’s skintight leather, but the boy is not that ripped.”

          Rose hummed loudly.  Juleka glanced up at her.

          “I’m not trying to push anything, unlike some people,” she protested.  “I’m merely pointing out that he should have already noticed by now, in a manner he will not pick up on for purposes of dramatic irony.”

          “What’s going on?” he asked. “And what’s with you two?”  He looked at the chain.  “And… that?”

          “She’s on probation,” explained Juleka.  “Until she realizes what she did was wrong.”

          “Probation of what?”

          “Getting to run my hands through that soft, dark hair,” Rose replied for her, rubbing her fingers over the pages of her lyrics.  “Holding her close to me, closing my eyes and breathing in her clove-scented perfume.  Feeling the warmth of a heart matched beat-for-beat with mine.”

          Marc looked back at Juleka.  She was nose-deep in her book, but her forehead was sweating, her knuckles were white, and she refused to look anywhere near where Rose was sitting.

          “Is that why you’ve chained yourself to this pipe?”

          Juleka whimpered a little before answering.  “It’s funny, in a tragic sort of way.”

          “So, what’s holding Rose back?”

          “Pity, mostly.”

          “This isn’t about the makeup thing, is it?” questioned the writer.  “I don’t blame Rose for anything that happened.  I mean, it worked out, sort of.”

          “Yeah, no thanks to me,” sniffed the poet. “If I’d have known…”

          “Hey.”  He approached her and offered his hand.  “Hindsight is 20/20.”

          “Still.”  She rubbed the brimming tears from her eyes.  “I was such an idiot, and you had to go through all of that because of me.”

          “You’re still the first one who listened.  Let’s be honest, that could have gone a lot worse.”

          “I overreacted.”  She looked down and continued to write, though it was mostly an excuse to avoid Marc’s eyes. “I thought I knew what was happening, and I thought I could help.  I was wrong to try and do it by myself without seeing a second opinion.”  Sniffing, she closed the notebook.  “I’m sorry.”

          “Oh…” groaned Juleka.  “So close, Rose.  Come on, I know you can do it.”

          “Do what?”

          “We aren’t be allowed to touch each other until she figures out exactly where she went wrong.  She’s got most of it, but I’m not allowed to tell her the last one.”

          “Okay, but why are you doing,” he gestured wildly at both girls, “this?”

          “Because I don’t have the key and Rose is really trying, bless her.”

          He looked between the two of them a few times, both of them equally miserable.  “I get the feeling this wasn’t your guys’ arrangement.”

          “It was Alix’s,” admitted Juleka.  “We both went along with it.  The chain was my idea, though.  It’s the cruelest and most elaborate punishment ever devised, who do you think dreamt it up?”

          “I mean,” Marc disputed, “I wouldn’t have pegged her specifically.”  Particularly not after their little heart-to-heart yesterday.

          “Never tick off someone with a small body-mass-to-temper ratio,” Rose advised.  “Especially if everyone in her family is an ancient history buff.”

          “What’s that got to—”

          “Look, she knows a little something about torture.”

          “Ah,” Marc commented, thoroughly confused and only pretending to understand.  “You two look like you’re busy, I’ll leave you to it.”

          He quietly took his seat at the back of the room, leaving the two to sort out their issues in peace.

           All things considered, life was pretty good.

          So why was Marc still feeling so anxious?

          Nathaniel crept in through the door with his head down, answering the question.

           “Nathaniel,” Juleka said.  “Unlock me.  I need to go use the bathroom.”

           “Sure thing.”  Nath approached her, holding something else up.  “Brought your headphones, too, you left them in class.”

           “It won’t work.  She’s stuck in my head.”

Rose cast a saddened, dramatic gaze towards the writer in the back. “Pray you don’t become like us, Marc.”

           Marc blushed.  Of course Rose figured it out.  She probably told Juleka, too.

           Yet another thing to watch out for.

           ‘Wait, so is Nathaniel straight or not?’

           Nathaniel joined him at their usual table once Juleka had been freed.  “Hey.”

           “You know,” Marc bet, “one has to wonder if that’s some sort of metaphor for something.”

           The artist burst out laughing, but quickly shut himself up when he realized he was making noise.  “Yeah,” he confessed.  “Probably. But they’re good for each other. Rose helps Juleka’s self-esteem, Juleka keeps Rose grounded.”

           “Yeah.  They really are kinda fun to write.  Speaking of…”

           “Right!  Back to work.”

           “If we end off our comic there, Rose is never going to forgive us.”

           “I know,” expressed Nathaniel, glancing over at the person in question.  She was the only other student who hadn’t gone home yet.  Volume up high in her earbuds, she wasn’t even looking at them. “But this story is way too interesting for one issue.  With a cliffhanger like that, she’ll keep breathing down our necks to make more.”  He blushed, realizing he had gotten ahead of himself.  “I mean, if you’re okay with… I’ve really liked working with you and I want to—”

           “Yes!” Marc blurted with a blush of his own.  “I mean, um, yes.  I would… I would love to keep working with you.”

           “Okay.”  He turned his attention back to the work.  “So, if we end the issue with Princess Fragrance’s reveal, then that’s going to take a full-page panel.”  He drew a border inside another blank page.  “Right, so we’ve got that planned out.  Now to just get cracking on those last few pages.”  He surveyed the pages of blank boxes in front of him, each with a little note of what went in each.  “And we know what has to be said at each bit, so if you want to edit specific dialogue, now’s the time to do that.”

           “Cool.  I’ll get on top of that.”

           Marc’s brain suddenly took a dive, and he hastily tried to delete the previous sentence from his brain.

           Each of them had the plans for everything, so they didn’t see a reason to talk much, a silence Marc respected even if he himself wasn’t comfortable with it.  If it made Nathaniel more comfortable, he could swing that.

           His brain needed to stop it immediately with the double-entendres.

           The two of them worked for another few minutes, with only the sound of their pens scratching their paper.

           Nathan, surprisingly, was the one who broke the silence.  “So… last night you were a girl.”

           Marc exhaled nervously.  He wasn’t wrong, but it still felt weird to acknowledge the elephant in the room.  “Uh, yeah.”

           “Earlier yesterday you were a boy.”

           “Yep.”

           “So…”  Nath bit his lip, which Marc had to avert his gaze from.  “I don’t want to just assume, in case I get it wrong.  What are you now?”

           Marc had been stewing this over while he worked. Truth be told, he found he didn’t actually care as much today.  He knew he wasn’t a boy, and he wasn’t a girl, but… he wasn’t really much of anything else either.

           “I don’t think I’m anything right now.”

           “Really?”

          “Nothing, right now.”  He shrugged.  “I’m just… nothing.”

          “How does that work?”

          “Search me.”  He shrugged once again.  “I don’t have much of a gender today, I guess.”

          “So…” Nathaniel paused.  “It’s like there’s no… asterisks.”

          “Asterisks?”

          Nath winced.  “Sorry. I was trying to be poetic, y’know, like you?  You have this great, flowing… your words are just, they click.  Does that make sense?  It probably doesn’t make sense, forget I said anything.”

          Marc smiled at the compliment, going back to his journal.  “They’re just words.”

          “They’re not, though, alright?” he declared.  “They’re not just words, they’re you! The way you get words to line up, only you can do it that way.  You’re so… smart, and creative, and… your writing style is just great.”

          “Th-thanks.”

          “I mean that.”  Nathan looked away, holding his arm sheepishly.  “You’re great, you’re really…”  He shut his eyes.  “Forget it.”

           Marc blinked.  “What was that?”

           “Never mind.  Where you at?  Panel 9-g, the security guard is revealed to be possessed, Ghostlight comes out, and we need a good, punchy line to start the fight with.”

           “No…”  Marc closed his journal.  “This can wait.  What were you going to say?”

           “Nothing important.”

           “I doubt that.”  He reached over the table and took his hand.  “Nath, whatever it is, it’s important.  You want to say it, say it.”

           Nathaniel blushed.  His mouth opened and closed, flopping like a fish, and he started to sweat.

           Marc looked down and realized oh wait, he was actually holding Nath’s hand.  He instantly let go, which seemed to shock Nath back into coherency.

           “I can’t,” he told him.

           “You can’t?”

           “No,” he restated.  “I’ll just mess it up, just forget it.”

           “I’ll listen.”  This gave the author pause.  “I’ve been keeping up with you for the last week.  I’ll understand what you’re trying to say.”

           His face had determination etched into it. He opened his mouth and began.

           “Oh!” Rose said suddenly, breaking his momentum. “Look at the time, I have to… go make an excuse.”  She scooched off of her seat and sashayed out the door.  “I’ll leave you two alone,” she called back, leaving the door ajar.

           Both collaborators stared after her.  The art teacher glanced in her direction, then he, too, left the room.

Nathaniel and Marc were alone.  Nathan, only a little deterred, summoned back what little courage he had left.

“You…”  He stopped. “You’re my friend, right Marc?”

           “Yeah,” was the immediate, nodding answer.  “I hope so, anyway.”

           “And… I’m your friend, right?”

           “Of course.”

           “You… you’re so much of a better person than I am.” The boy gulped.  “No matter… who you are.  And today, it’s like… I’m so glad I get to see you happy.”

          “Uh…”  Marc nodded again in appreciation. “Thanks.”

          “I mean, look at you, you’re happier, even if you’re still the same person who’s come in to help me with this stupid thing—”

          “Nathan, it’s not stupid—”

          “It is, though, and sometimes it feels like we’re the only people here who care about it.  Only now you’ve changed, and you’re so much more relaxed now, and… And it’s good for you, right?  You get to be so much more confident.  Like just now, when you said you had no gender, you said it and you were sure.”

          “I’m still not really sure.”

          “You sounded sure, and that’s better than I can do.  With pretty much anything.  I’m not strong or witty, but you are. There’s just so many little things, here and there, and I can’t concentrate right.  There’s just so many things about—”

          The sudden halt from the speed at which Nathaniel had been talking gave Marc whiplash.

          Marc looked at him, expecting him to finish what he was saying.

          “I can’t…” he mumbled.   “Just… that’s it, then.  I don’t know how I was going to end that.”

          “You feeling okay, Nathan?” queried Marc.  “I don’t think I’ve heard you talk so much in one go.”

          “It’s…nothing.”  Nath took a deep breath.  “I’ve been trying to… think of things I wanted to say—”  He got out of his seat, turning away.  “Never mind, it’s stupid.”

          “No,” Marc stated, standing up behind him.  “You’re not.  If you need to say something, just say it.”

          “I think—”

          “Go on.”

          “I think you’re—” Nathaniel swallowed his tongue and hunched over, covering his mouth.

          “Nath!”  Marc rushed to his aid.  “Breathe slowly, okay?  Are you alright?  You look like you’re going to puke.”

          “I didn’t say anything, just…”  Nath’s voice broke.  “Please, just drop it, I don’t wanna…”

          Marc couldn’t believe it.  Nathaniel, whose creativity knew no bounds, was censoring himself.

          That could not happen.

          And Marc needed to know.

          “What if I don’t want to drop it?”

           “Marc, please…”

           “What if I don’t want you to be afraid to talk to me? What would you say if you could talk to me?”  He looked into his icy-blue eyes, piercing through with his warmth.  “What if you were about to say what I thought you were going to say?  What if it’s that important that I hear how that sentence was going to end?”  He snatched Nath’s hands from where they had covered his mouth and cradled them in his own. “And what if, by some miracle, I cared about how you felt and what you thought?”

           Nath stared back at him, and both of them reeled from the shock of Marc’s outburst.

           Then Nathaniel slowly started shaking his head.

           “Don’t do this… don’t do that to me,” he murmured. “Stop doing that, you’re going to just regret it.”

           Marc tightened his grip.  “Just say what you wanted to.  Stop putting up all these filters in your head.”  He grasped at something.  “Do the thing about the asterisks.  What did you mean by that?”

          Nath took a deep breath and tried.  “Well… right now, you’re… no gender.  No asterisks.  No added stress.  You’re just… Marc.  Pure Marc.” He scowled.  “I mean… that’s not good, is it, that’s not clever.  Cause you’re not just genderless, are you?”  He wrenched his hands from Marc’s ironclad grip. “Look, you could be a girl and I’d… you’d still be you.  Same for if you end up a boy.  You just get to be you.  And… I like it when you’re you.”  He stopped, looking to Marc for criticism.

           After a moment, Marc smiled warmly.  “That was pretty poetic.”

           “Y-you do it so much better than me.”

           They both smiled.

           “C-can I—” Nath gulped, shutting himself down.

           “What?”

           “N-nothing.”  He shook where he stood.  “Forget it.”

           “No chance.”  Marc wasn’t sure where this courage was coming from, but he didn’t shake it away.  “You don’t have to filter yourself.  I won’t judge anything you say from here on out, you hear me?  It’s the least I can do for what you and Alix have done for me.”

           Nathaniel drew closer suddenly, his hand touched Marc’s cheek, and their lips barely touched.  For a single half-second, their lips brushed against one another, and then Nathan drew back like Marc was a burning stove.

           Both creators were left in a state of shock.

           “Oh… my… God.”  Marc gaped.  “You…”

           “Cute,” Nathaniel muttered.  “I was gonna say cute.  Before.”  He looked down.  “I’m… sorry, I’ll just…”  He made his way to his bag, tripped on a chair, and started to bolt for the door.

           Seeing Nathan start to panic and run away triggered something in him.  He suddenly found a good reason to raise his voice.

           Nathaniel had given him strength.  Now he had to return the favor.

           “Hey, get back here!” Marc called out, and the artist stopped. “I’ve had a crush on you for over a full month now.  You get a do-over.”  Marc surged forward, turned him back around, and kissed him again, this time much more solidly.

           A few seconds passed and they separated.  “You have a crush on me?” Nath said, confused.

           Marc laughed a little at his expense.  “There were times, even just this week, where something you did just completely killed me, stone dead.”

           Nath blinked.  “Do you want to go out sometime?”

          “You see, this is what I’m talking about.”  He pulled him close and hugged him tightly.  “Son of a gun, yes, but don’t give me heart attacks like that.”

          Nath’s arms awkwardly returned the embrace.  “I, uh… I’ve never had a… an actual date before. What’s the, uhm… protocol, here?”

           “Are you serious?”

           “Half-serious.”

           “Well don’t worry.  It’ll be a learning experience for the both of us.”

           We have always belonged together!

           Nathaniel tore away from the embrace, turning sharply towards the door.  “Rose, what the hell!?”

           The little pink devil held the phone up high, volume turned all the way up.  We will always belong together!  Just keep moving on!

           “Sorry,” Rose giggled.  “My hand slipped.”

           The collaborators looked at each other.  Nodding a silent agreement, they chased after Rose together.

Okay.  I don’t have much else to say right now, so... *shuffles away*.

[oldladydatin]

My half built house.

I had this dream the other day about my ex and I have been thinking about him since. I hate it! No...I fucking hate it! That’s worthy of the profanity. If there’s anyone in this world I never want to think about again it’s him. I think of that movie Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and I wish it was a thing, I’d erase him from my mind and make it spotless. I’ve had people say they learn from people like him but I think what lessens are there to learn from this? I got to learn people are cruel, selfish and will use you up and throw you away like trash. I got to learn to be cautious of people, to protect myself, to not get attached, to avoid falling in love, that it’s okay to hurt others to get what you want in the end. Those aren’t lessens I wanted to learn, I want to believe people are basically good, I want to give without concern of what’s going to happen to me, I want to fall in love and share myself with someone, I liked being carefree. Then someone came along and now I’m what not supposed to be? I don’t want to be hardened, cruel, selfish and suspicious, in essences I don’t want to be like him.

On a day to day basis I actively try not to think about this guy and it’s mostly going okay. I really only think about him when shady shit happens in the dating world. Like this time a guy I was seeing blocked me on that bdsm site to avoid me seeing he was playing with others and then he said he just deleted it because he met me and I was all he was interested in? I said to myself ahhh no that’s some Eric shit right there and I’m not falling for no more Eric shit. When men play these games I often wonder if Eric wrote a “how to play women online manual” and they are all following it, but I often think pfft you all should meet my ex and step your game up I’m not falling for this shit. I think about him when I scroll through my messages on my dating apps and the guys named Eric, I think nope I’ve had enough Eric’s for the rest of my life. Like I’ve sworn off an entire group of people because of this one guy, like I would rather be single for the rest of my life than have his name roll off my tongue again. I think about him when I see that the guys astrological sign is leo, I think fuck that I’m not dating another leo, my ex husband was also a leo.

To be fair, I knew, I have some weird ability to know things I shouldn’t know, I don’t know if it’s intuition, if it’s that I’m extremely sensitive to stuff, I don’t know. It’s weird to know things but not be able to definitively say I know this because. I’ve gotten in cars with people and immediately gotten out because I sensed something wasn’t right. I’ve removed my kids from places because I had a bad feeling about someone. I showed up to Eric’s house one day and knew there was another women in his life and couldn’t explain how. The times I’ve ignored that I’ve been hurt, and badly. I knew he was lying, cheating and hiding things from me, I guess I thought if I was patient he’d love me like I loved him. It was foolish, it’s foolish to accept less than you deserve, it’s foolish to let people treat you like trash hoping for love. I lost friends over this guy. Because people got tired of watching this, if you were my friend it was frustrating. I got told I was stupid. People told me I was just looking for attention. I lied to people because I didn’t want to be lectured, I lied to people to protect him, I lied because I didn’t want my friends and family to hate him. The first guy I was in love with, my parents hated him because he wasn’t making good choices. After he pulled a knife on someone at my house we weren’t allowed to see each other but we’d sneak around and do things together anyways. One day a good family friend came over and caught us together when she knew we weren’t allowed to be, I tried to hide him in my room and lie about it. She told me if a man makes you feel like you need to lie he’s not a good man. I thought about that when I was doing this with Eric because she’s right, I lied for my ex husband too.

I don’t want to think about him because every memory of him is tainted. We went on very very few dates and they were always rushed like he didn’t have time for me he was just meeting some quota, he didn’t enjoy spending time with me. He’d look over his shoulder in public like he didn’t want to be caught with me. Every thing he ever said to me was a lie. Every nice thing he did for me, he did 20 awful ones behind my back. Even sex in the end was very one sided, I wasn’t enjoying it but it meant I got to spend time with him. He attacked me during sex twice, and made me think he was going to attack me another time. I know you think how can you be attacked in a bdsm relationship? Well the big difference is consent. There’s a difference between someone saying I’m going to flog you for this long, and we’re having normal sex and all of a sudden I’m being forced kicking and screaming, yelling no, please no, while being beat, into restraints. There’s a big difference. I didn’t tell anyone, I lied, I hid bruises, I cried everytime I saw them, I was embarrassed and ashamed that I let things go that far. When I finally told my best friend what happened, months after, when we weren’t together, we were at the bar going to see Biz Markie it was happy thing and I started crying. I couldn’t even talk about it. Because it’s hard to be hurt by someone you loved and trusted, it was so much more mental than it ever was physical. 

I used to not believe in God. I didn’t get raised in church or around positive people. I thought if there was a God surely he hated me, right? So many bad things had happened. One night when I was in the hospital worried I was going to die I had an experience that made me see this whole thing differently. I think God gives us signs but we have free will and we have to recognize those signs and act on them. Since then I’ve become a lot more aware. I had signs, and bad feelings and I ignored them. I really believed if I loved him enough he’d love me too, I thought I could make him be a better man. We do that as women, all too often. Imagine if we put that much effort into loving ourselves instead of worrying about these broken weak men. He had no intention of loving me, he didn’t even try to get to know me. He already had someone and I was just a toy for when he was bored. He lied to me all the way up to the last day. I dropped his son off one morning and saw a car and had a feeling and I ignored it. I’m house shopping and I’ve driven past his house unfortunately, and guess what car is parked there. Yep this man cared so little about me or my feelings he had a girl stay over when we were together and didn’t hide it, just treated me like some common whore, and I ignored that. The final straw he was texting me saying things like that he loved me, or that he was enjoying looking at personal pictures of me, asking for pictures of me, playing on my emotions especially when he heard I was seeing someone. Then I went to the store. I wasn’t supposed to be there, I was supposed to go the night before but I overslept for work, I wasn’t supposed to be there. So I chanced dropping kids off at school late and I see him with another girl, I had never seen him at this store and I used to go there all the time. I tried to dodge down another aisle and not have that awkward interaction, because at first he didn’t see me, but it ended up happening anyways and he saw me and waved and it was awkward. I held my shit together because I was with my son, I dropped him off to school and I cried for hours. I prayed to God for him to take him out of my life and I didn’t care how. I really cried please God this hurts I just want this to go away. I never pray, I was just hurting that bad. I was just so exhausted and I took that sign, and I committed myself to getting past this.

I’ve been reading books on how to do that and journaling. I read this book by Guy Winch, he has a few Ted Talks. I followed his advice, I made two lists “Reasons why I shouldn’t be with Eric” and “Pet Peeves” it was things like he’s a pathological liar, he doesn’t care about my feelings, washes his dick after sex, doesn’t care if I orgasm, acts shady about everyday things, has an inability to communicate, is extremely negative about life, tells the exact same stories repeatedly, anything that’s ever bothered or hurt me and I look at that when I think about him. I blocked anyone I knew was associated with him, I went as far as to find his family members on facebook and block them because he said that when we miss the person we’re trying to get over we like facebook stalk the person, I don’t do that. Changed locks, changed my number, instructed my kids not to talk to him or his kids. He said we search for reasons why it didn’t work out rather than accepting what’s infront of us. I did that. Because I don’t really know what the issue was? I have no idea why he did this to me. In this circumstance I just have to accept there really are bad people in the world. I decided to make up one myself and when I start wondering why he did these things to me I say it out loud. I sometimes imagine what a life with the man I got to know would be like, not the one he pretended to be, but the one he actively presented time and time again, what kind of a life would I have had with that guy? And I try to be thankful I dodged that bullet. I’m trying not to let this experience turn me into him. And I’ve gotten past a lot of this, I really only think about him when the above things happen. But now I’ve had this damn dream.

In my dream, it was dark out and I was in the middle of the desert and I was frustrated. I was trying to call him, it was odd. It was like trying to call the cartel or some other black market organization, like super shady and I had to go through different channels to get a hold of him. Then finally I get ahold of him and I’m pissed off and suddenly I’m standing in the middle of a half falling down single wide trailer. I’m yelling because he was supposed to have finished my house, I’m so mad because what am I supposed to do with a half built house? He was him, extremely dismissive of my feelings, offering cold detached apologies, giving extremely vague explanations and in the end clearly my house wasn’t getting built. Just like how in the end of our relationship clearly this man was never going to love me. So I was standing there with my kids, at night, in a half built house, pissed off and then I woke up. I was so dumbfounded by this dream I couldn’t go back to sleep. So I started researching the symbolism of it. I read that in dreams houses represent our self, and the state of the house matters. The fact that this house was run down, neglected and under construction may mean the same for myself, that maybe I’m neglecting parts of myself, that I need to work on myself. Ex boyfriends matter too, even if they barely qualify as being a boyfriend and again the specifics surrounding the ex matters. However it seems this could be anything from my ex also represents parts of myself that I’ve neglected, or it could be a warning not to make the same mistakes again. It could also mean I’m angry with myself, or just plainly it’s my subconscious trying to help me get past him. I did learn that ultimately I want to have a dream where he dies. If you dream your ex dies then it means you’re over him. I completely agree with the half built house maybe representing my need to work on myself. After the things I’ve gone through the last few years there’s just no way I’m a fully built house. However I’ll never be a single wide trailer, especially not an off white one. I’m too amazing of a woman for all that.

I want to share this quote I saw today, “Satan loves to take what’s beautiful and ruin it. God loves to take what’s ruined and make it beautiful.” I love this, concentrate your energy on your house, make it beautiful, and avoid those who seek to ruin it. 

[kitanoko]

Can I get a jealous Izuku izuocha fanfic? 030 (that's bad wording lol)

   Note: Wow, 3 fics in 3 days HAHA, I’m in love with writing these so thanks for the ask and also for being so supportive! Yay, Eri and Kaibara Sen (Class B guy) play a role in this story. The wiki had no info on Kaibara’s quirk; it just mentions that he does some swirling thing. Also was inspired by a scene from Heiji x Kazuha from Conan. Happy Reading!

In which Midoriya goes undercover 

“Just check out the bridge, Midoriya,” Todoroki uttered intothe phone, “Iida and I will split up and check out the stations.”

“Got it,” the green haired boy replied as he stepped to theside a bit, eyes lingering on the next location, “I’m a few steps away so I’llsee if there’s anything. I’ll give you a call if he turns up.”

“Thanks. Be careful out there.”

Beep.

Midoriya hung up without looking and stuffed his phone intohis back pocket. If experience had taught him anything (other than not tounderestimate your enemy), Midoriya knew that it’s always best to wear adisguise before heading to a drug deal.

Todoroki, Iida and Midoriya were assigned by their agenciesto check out various locations where an infamous yakuza gang were doing theirdrug exchange. It had been a few years since he, Mirio and the otherssuccessfully rescued Eri and despite having minor panic attacks once in awhile, Eri had decided to work for Midoriya in order to contribute herknowledge on gang raids and their functions. It lifted Midoriya’s spirits tothink how impressive it was for Eri to have grown this much since the incident.

Pulling down his baseball cap and zipping up his navy bluewindbreaker, Midoriya slogged through the busy, wet streets of Kamino andstopped at the west side of the bridge. According to Eri, yakuza members wouldusually send a young guy whose appearance isn’t anything conspicuous to do thetrade. Optimal time should be around 6 o’clock where everyone’s rushing backhome from work too. Midoriya lifted his arm to glance at his bulky sportswatch. 5:30 p.m, it read, meaning anything could happen within the next hour.

Hopefully Eri’s right and they didn’t miss it.

As he watched one of the ducks swim across the river belowwhere he stood, he rested his arms on the railings and held his chin in hishand. Such trifling scenery was to be admired often. Particularly for heroeswhose lives and reputation were always at stake. Midoriya knew his career wasnot all glorious even for an optimistic guy like him, and finding work-life balancewas challenging.

At the corner of his eye, a slender girl wearing a brightorange off-the-shoulder dress appeared within his range of view and he turned hishead slightly, still resting on his palm. He looked at the girl, round-eyed.

It was Uraraka, and she wasn’t alone.

“Kaibara-kun,” Uraraka said, standing too close to the boyin front of her in Midoriya’s opinion, “How’ve you been?”

Kaibara was a dark-haired boy from Class B, Midoriyaremembered, and the way he portrayed himself to Uraraka made his head steam.Since both of them had a busy schedule, Midoriya and Uraraka had been hangingout with one another only on the rare occasion that their old classmates would meet up.It’s unfortunate, but being the best of the best was everyone’s priority so noone had the courage or the time to focus on their love lives. Midoriya groanedto himself, his eyes peeled at the pair a few meters away from him. Should he say hi? Midoriya pondered butfought against it. He had a mission. This was not the time to be doing anythingother than his duty as a hero.

However, it was quite odd as to why Uraraka hasn’t noticedhim at all. Given their somewhat close proximity, he would have expected her toat least do a wave. The green-haired boy shook his head from side to side, attemptingto clear his mind completely but failed.

And so he continuedto observe from afar.

“I bought the tickets,” Kaibara spoke as he stuck his handsin his jacket, “see?” He pulled out two pieces of wrinkled paper and Midoriyaassumed they were the tickets, “Beauty and the Beast, you said you wanted towatch it.”

Uraraka’s face brightened, “yeah! I can’t believe you remembered!”She had the voice of an angel and the face of a princess, but Midoriya wishedit was directed at him instead. The boy’s fists clenched watching those two andhe cursed under his breath. Why would they need to watch the movie when Kaibaracould easily be the beast?!

Midoriya grunted. Kaibara’s presence was cringe-worthy, andhis ass was clearly asking for a beating. Suddenly, to his right, a man holdinga bouquet of roses stopped right between Midoriya and the pair, distracting theone-for-all hero from his pensive gaze. The green-haired boy turned around andtook a few steps back, eyes still locked onto Uraraka and felt a vibration.

“Hello?” Midoriya picked up his phone and began to talksoftly, “It’s cool over here. How about you guys?”

Todoroki’s voice was stern, “Nothing over here, Eri messagedand said it’s most likely gonna be at the bridge. Keep your eyes opened.”

“Ah alrig—“ Midoriya froze without warning and stared withhis mouth wide open. Was Kaibara holdingonto Uraraka’s waist? And she seems to be totally fine with it? Impedinghimself from yelling right then, he noticed the two were positioned like peasin a pod. He exhaled to keep composed.

It’s fine. They’refriends, he tried to convince himself, yet he couldn’t drag his focus away. Patience is virtue. Patience is —

“Wait a minute, Todoroki.”

 Without letting go ofthe phone, his arms swung fervently back and forth as he pushed a stranger, whowas receiving the bouquet from the previous man, away. He stomped right throughthat couple and pulled heavily on Kaibara’s jacket, receiving a stupefied lookfrom the latter.

The next sounds that came from Midoriya’s side of the phoneto Todoroki’s was a cry of anguish.

“Midoriya, what’shappening?“ Todoroki inquired as he felt himself sweating from the disturbance.Was Midoriya engaging the yakuza now?

“Whatare you doing to my Uraraka?!” Midoriya yelled as bystanders formed asemi-circle to watch, pointing and whispering.

Uraraka innately grasped onto Midoriya’s arm, causing theboy to drop his phone, “Deku-kun, what are you doing? Let go of Kaibara-kunnow!”

“Midoriya, could you still hear me? I’m heading over rightnow!” Todoroki was still yelling into the phone and Uraraka’s eyebrows lookedas if they were knitted together in annoyance.

With a quick push, Kaibara pried himself out of Midoriya’sfierce restraint, the former taking the heated accusation in stride. There wassomething else Kaibara seemed to be focused on at the moment and as quick as abullet, Kaibara turned to face the other way.

Midoriya darted his eyes towards the same direction andrealized that the couple that were beside them were now running off. The crowdseemed to be in a panic as the bridge began to rumble all of a sudden.  Crap,Midoriya muttered to himself, so it wasthem all along!

“Uraraka,” Kaibara cried out, readying his quirk, “stand infront of me, without my quirk we can’t catch up to them!”

Uraraka nodded quickly, pulling Midoriya behind her in oneswift movement as the concrete bridge swayed back at forth. Must be the villain’s powers. Midoriyaknew he compromised their mission, and his heart paced, feeling as though avoid had swallowed him whole.

Kaibara motioned hisfingers with ease and let out a small puff of air from his mouth. Withinseconds, the puff of air became a torrent and a giant tornado shot out, liftingUraraka forward in a blink of an eye. Uraraka elongated her arms, timingperfectly as she reached the villains and their shocked faces were the lastthing she saw as both of them started to levitate into the air. Writhing theirarms and legs, the villain’s bouquet slipped out of their grasp and soon, whatassumed to be bags of quirk enhancing drugs floated out of the tissue wrappingof the roses. The gravity heroine detained them with handcuffs and within minutes a teamof policemen came.

Uraraka huffed and wiped a sweat off her forehead as Kaibaraand Midoriya ran towards her.

“Excellent job!” Kaibara lifted his palm up and they did ahigh-five in victory. Midoriya’s gaze fixated on her in disappointment.

“I’m so sorry,” Midoriya let out and Uraraka stifled agiggle.

“I can’t believe you thought we were dating! I’ve never seenyou so…irrational before!” Uraraka playfully punched Midoriya and Kaibara beganto laugh as well.

“I’d suggest you don’t let your boss find out that yourcover got blown because of jealousy though,” Kaibara said, looking at theembarrassed expression on Midoriya’s face.

Uraraka sighed, “Our agency was also on this case, so Kaibara-kun and I were undercover. But we weren’t allowed to tell you Deku-kun.” She scratched her cheek gingerly and ablush appeared on her face, “What was it that you said again? Something aboutme being yours?”

Kaibara smirked and walked away from the two, allowing themprivacy.

“I didn’t say that!” Midoriya denied. Abruptly, the eeriesound of his own voice appeared behind him. Turning on his heel, Todoroki stoodthere, one hand on a button of his phone and the other ensconced in his frontpocket.

“What are you doing to my Uraraka—what are you doing tomy—what are you—“ Todoroki kept pressing ‘rewind’ and ‘play’ one after theother on his phone, and thwarted his phone away from getting seized by aperturbed Midoriya as the green-haired boy headed to him.

Todoroki had an uncanny knack for irritating others withouttwitching a muscle.

Hearing the awkward replay of Midoriya’s inadvertentconfession, Uraraka greeted Todoroki with a wave of her hand. Her actions wereflustered, and she began to occupy herself with the police team.

“Ugh, you’re ruthless,” Midoriya groaned, “tell me you’lldelete that from your phone.”

“Nope,” Todoroki said, uncaring, “I want to show Iida. Andprobably Yaoyorozu too. And your mom.”

“….Todoroki, you better not…”

Uraraka shifted her eyes over to the two boys as thepolicemen drove away and her lips tugged upwards toward Midoriya, who wouldalways be displaying his protective side for her sake.

She’s going to confronthim about today for sure. But right now, she needed to concentrate on the responsibilitiesthat await behind the closed doors of her office.

[starlabsforever-blog]

Ooo, I would love to see Killervibe and 21. “If you walk away, everything will fall apart.” Thank you!

21. “If you walk away, everything will fall apart.”

(This is also for the nonnie who requested the same one) 

Sorry this is a long one. The under 1000 drabbles couldn’t last long. It was inevitable, guys, I’m long-winded.

Set a little bit after the finale.

Caitlin glanced at her watch and drew in an anxious breath. Thirty minutes till boarding.

You are going to go through with this, she told herself sternly. You have to. You want to.

You have to want to.Even this late at night, the airport was full and busy- intercom messages and crying babies and the low murmur of chatter blended together in a stream of noise that made her head hurt. She hadn’t slept in… she wasn’t sure how long, and she certainly wasn’t going to be sleeping for the next five hours. She’d gotten better at controlling her powers without restraints, and she could sleep for short periods with minimal involuntary effects, but she was afraid that if someone startled her awake, she’d freeze them to death. Sleeping was not an option.

She hugged herself, feeling small in comparison to the vast uncertainty that loomed ahead. She had no idea where she was going. Her plane ticket said Phoenix, Arizona, but that was temporary. She’d picked Arizona because it was home to the five hottest cities in the country, but she was worried it had too many people. Instead of going somewhere hot enough that she wouldn’t be cold, she could go somewhere so cold that no-one would notice. Like Alaska. There were less people in Alaska. Arizona was just a pit stop; somewhere far enough away from home that she could collect herself and think of a long-term plan.

She hadn’t thought ahead of Arizona, because even though she knew that she needed to leave, the idea that she was leaving behind her life forever hurt more than she wanted it to. Leaving Julian and the Wests and the Steins and- Cisco, her heart hurt thinking about Cisco. He was the only reason that she hadn’t left a long time ago, before she’d ever had a chance to lose control. He was comfort and safety and the only thing that made her feel like herself. She’d let him convince her to stay, and look where that got them. H.R. was dead, Barry was gone, and the team was shattered. She needed to leave Central City before she hurt anybody else.

Caitlin was vaguely aware of someone sitting down next to her. She flinched away, like she usually did whenever anyone came near her. She let her hair fall in front of her face and contemplated moving seats.

“Wow, I don’t smell that bad,” the person next to her said, and her heart skipped and she snapped her head up. Cisco was sitting in the seat next to her, wearing jeans and a vintage Star Trek t-shirt under his black bomber jacket.

“Hey there,” he said, and half-smiled in a way that didn’t reach his eyes. “Fancy meeting you here.”

His eyes were probing and full of concern, and she suddenly wished she could throw herself into his arms and let him hug her and stroke her hair. She crossed her arms and turned to face him, establishing distance between them. “How did you find me?”

“You know. I got a vibe.” She raised her eyebrows. “Well. A vague one. So I hacked into your computer and restored your deleted search history by hacking into your browser’s cookies, which I’m not proud of, but, I had a feeling that you were up to something, and lo and behold…” He threw his hands out. “Here you are. Up to something.”

A weighted silence settled over them. She stared at Cisco and he stared back, eyebrows slightly raised as if he were waiting for her to say something. When she didn’t, he sighed, flinging down the gauntlet. “What is this, Caitlin? What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” Her voice shook. “I’m leaving. In thirty minutes.”

The corners of his mouth turned down. “Why?”

His eyes were big and brown and sympathetic, and she already felt her defenses crumbling. Leaving Cisco behind was hard enough when he was just a thought, a memory. Now that he was here, it felt impossible. “I don’t know. I figured the fact that I turned evil, aligned with our nemesis and got our friends hurt was reason enough.”

He looked at her with something between exasperation and incredulity. “Did you kill H.R.?”

“No, but-”

“Did you make Barry trap himself in the speed force?”

Caitlin huffed a little. “No, but he might not have had to if I hadn’t helped Savitar!”

“It would have happened anyway,” Cisco said. “Savitar was going to wreak his havoc with or without you. You can’t blame yourself for things that you didn’t do.”

She swallowed hard. “How about the things I did do?”

“That was her,” he dismissed. “Not you. You weren’t conscious.”

“Really?” Her voice trembled. “If I wasn’t conscious, then why do I remember trying to kill you?”

“You were under duress.” He reached out to put his hand on her shoulder and she flinched away. He stopped, clearly stung, and lowered his hand to his lap. “Come on, Caitlin, you didn’t want to kill me.” She stared back at him and he gulped. “Did you?”

Caitlin shook her head wildly. “Maybe. All I know was that I was in there the whole time. Killer Frost’s sins are mine.”

Cisco shook his head. “I don’t accept that.”

“Well, maybe you should,” she snapped. “Don’t tell me I wasn’t conscious, don’t tell me that wasn’t me, because I know more than you do. I know what I did, and I know how I felt, which is why I know that the best place for me is to be far away from all of you.”

His brow furrowed, eyes sad and serious. “Running away won’t make anything better.”

“No, but it might keep things from getting worse.”

“You can’t leave, now of all times.” He leaned forward. “I need your help holding up the fort. That’s what we’ve always done. If you walk away, everything will fall apart.”

“That’s not true.”

“You don’t know that, because you’re not the one whose best friend is skipping town!” Cisco’s bottom lip quivered and she had to look away. “Y’know, this is kind of a slap in the face after we fought for you.” He paused and shifted. “I fought for you. Does that mean anything to you?”

Caitlin looked away coldly. “You need to leave.”

“Nuh-uh. I’m going to use every second of the next-” he glanced at his watch. “-21 minutes to keep you from making this mistake. I’m not giving up on you any sooner than I have to.” Did he have to make this so difficult? Now she had a teary lump in her throat and her face was burning and it was too much.

She rose to her feet. “Fine. If you won’t leave, then I will. My plane’s boarding any minute now.”

“Twenty minutes,” he called after her. She walked away briskly, and waited to hear his footsteps echoing hers, but she didn’t. She glanced over his shoulder and realized he was gone, lost to the crowd. Her heart plummeted and she sunk into another chair. She attempted to compose herself, but now every time she thought about Phoenix, Arizona she saw Cisco’s face, sincere and determined and loving, and she felt sick.

Twenty. Nineteen, then eighteen, then seventeen minutes until she was leaving Central City behind. You have to do this, she told herself, but all she could think about was Cisco and she was even more torn than before.

Someone tapped her on the shoulder and she jumped, and then her hands felt cold and she was about to lose it, she was going to lose control again-

“Yo!” She snapped her head up and saw Cisco, holding a hand out in front of him. “Yo, it’s just me. Chill.” She glared at him witheringly. “Sorry, that was- that was bad.” He held out his other hand, which was holding a blue paper bag. “I brought you Cinnabon.”

She stared at the bag blankly. “Oh,” she said, and he slid into the seat next to her. He turned the bag over onto its side and fished out a white box. He held it out and she took it reluctantly. “If you think you can bribe me into staying with cinnamon rolls-”

“I know I can’t,” he said. “This is your last supper, not a bribe. If you’re gonna run off to-” He glanced at the electronic screen on the wall. “-Phoenix, and never come back, I want your last memory of me to be a quintessential Cisco and Caitlin memory. What’s more us than dessert after midnight?”

That made her want to cry all over again. “I’m not hungry.”

“Bull,” he said, and pried the box open for her.

She stared at the sugary, sticky mess as Cisco opened his own box. He dug into it, clearly starving. It smelled so good, but she felt faint and nauseous. She blew out a breath. “How can you still look at me?”

He swallowed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “What does that mean?”

She bit her lip. “How can you still look at me the same way after everything I’ve done?” He started to say something and she cut him off. “I know you’re going to say that it wasn’t me, but you don’t know that I'm still me. I don’t even know if I’m still me.”

“I know you are,” he said slowly, “because this? The- the running away and the crushing guilt and the worry that you’re hurting people? That is Caitlin Snow, doctor, healer, and this is how you react to things. You turtle. You try to hide away from everything that’s hurting you. You did it when Ronnie died, and you’re doing it now, and I would be the worst friend in the world if I let you get away with it.”

Caitlin clasped her hands together. “I think the title of worst friend in the world goes to someone who kills their friend.”

“Which you didn’t,” he pointed out, a little forcefully. She stared at her cinnamon roll. “Look, I can’t pretend that I know how you feel. What I do know is that you chose to come back. You took control.” He turned to face her, and they were so close that she could feel him breathing. “It doesn’t matter that you were in control when you were chaotic evil-ing through the city, because that’s not who you are.”She stared at him, willing herself not to cry. “I don’t know who I am. I’m not sure I’m Caitlin anymore.”“That’s okay,” Cisco said softly. She studied his eyes and found nothing but sincerity. “But whoever you are, you’re a good person. If you can’t believe that right now, I will believe it for you.”

Her eyes stung and she ducked her head, letting her hair cover her eyes like a blonde waterfall. “I don’t know,” she said in a tiny voice. “I feel like I can’t go back.” He started to say something and she sat up straighter. “Please let me finish. I know you all forgive me, but I don’t, and that needs to come first. I need to find some kind of peace with myself.”

His eyes looked sad, but he nodded. “I get that. I do. Just one thing- why are you so sure that you’ll find peace in Arizona?” She ducked her head. “Hey, would you look at me?” She turned her face to him but didn’t quite meet his eyes. “I hear you, and I get it, I do. You need space. I just don’t want you to do something you might regret.” His brow crinkled intently. “Just- think about it first, because I think you’ll find it’s a lot harder to come back than it is to leave.”

She stared at him. He held her gaze. Overhead, the intercom announced that Flight 695 to Phoenix was boarding in ten minutes.

Cisco was watching her, and let out a breath that he’d been holding. “Listen. Whoever you are now, I still love you.” She glanced at him quickly. His face was composed, but his throat was contracting, like he was trying not to cry. “That’s never going to change. No matter who you are, you will always have a home with me.” He stood up and watched her, like he was waiting for her to say something, to say anything. She tried to find the words, but she came up empty.

Cisco touched her shoulder, and she didn’t flinch this time. “Take care of yourself, Cait.” His voice was suddenly thick and husky. “I hope Arizona is good to you.” He stood up and started to walk away.

Caitlin stared at the uneaten cinnamon roll in her hands, and something snapped into place. “Wait!” He stopped in his tracks and looked at her, eyes questioning. She rose to her feet and swallowed, hard.

“I canceled my lease on my apartment,” she said randomly.

He stared at her. “What?”

She swallowed. “What I mean is… I don’t have anywhere to stay.”

“In Phoenix?” he asked, and looked away, like he was trying not to think about it.

Caitlin shook her head and took a deep breath. “No. Here.”

Cisco’s face flooded with comprehension, and then relief, and then something so strong and pure that it made her chest ache, because she still wasn’t sure she deserved it. She looked into his eyes, and she didn’t want to run away anymore. She still wanted to cry, but now all she wanted was to throw herself into his arms. She took a deep breath. “I can’t promise that I won’t leave eventually. But you’re right, I should… I should sleep on it.”

His mouth was open slightly like he didn’t quite believe what he was hearing. “Okay.” He made a movement like he was about to wrap his arm around her shoulder, and then stopped himself. A dam in her chest broke and she flung herself into his arms. He froze for a split second, and then his arms closed around her, cradling her against his chest. He was so warm and she was so cold and she was scared to be touching him, but it also made her feel safe. She buried her face in his hair- he smelled like sweat and salt and grease and she never wanted to let go.

He pulled away, but still held her by her shoulders. “We should get you home,” he said quietly, and she saw that his eyes were wet. “You need to sleep.”

“So do you,” she said, and put her arm across his shoulders, just to be touching him. He closed his eyes for a second, melting against her touch, and then opened his eyes again.

“This isn’t about me,” he said. “But I need you to know-” He cut himself off and shook his head.

She tilted her head at him. “What?”

Cisco looked down at her. “I need you,” he said. “That doesn’t mean you have to stay. You can go wherever you need to for as long as you need to, but you should know that.” He swallowed, hard. “In case you were looking for a reason to stay.”

Caitlin nodded and took his hand silently. Even though she felt more uncertain than ever, she knew she was safe. She wasn’t sure who she was, but she did have a home. She had him.

She could let that be enough for now.