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feliix · 4 years ago

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Crush Culture ✦ KTH (18+)

✦ Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

✦ Rating: M ✦ Word Count: 14k (screams)

✦ Genre: fluff, angst, smut, fake dating!au

✦ Summary: Once summer hits and you return to work at the local ice cream shop, you’re swarmed with couples coming in on lovey-dovey on dates. You’ve always hated the idea of relationships and love, but it’s Taehyung’s mission to make you reconsider by the end of the summer.

✦ Warnings: childhood friends 2 lovers, idiots 2 lovers unprotected sex, fingering, pining, soft sex, light mentions of marking, mentions of bad past relationships, Tae is kinda a player but he turns out alright

✦ A/N: a big big thank you to the lovely @hobiance for helping me plan yet another fic and @jinned for giving me the much needed support and hyping me up until I finished my first long boi ilysm ♡ also thank you to my lovely beta @jinterlude who I would be completely illiterate without! the most beautiful banner you’ve ever seen is made by none other than my baby @koophoriia ily bunbunbun

Written for the BHQ Bangtan Boardwalk Collaboration

Taglist: @krystle1990 @imluckybitches

“Gross”

Another couple. Probably the 50th overly lovey-dovey pair that you’ve seen this evening alone. The shop is packed full of them on warm nights like this.

To say ‘love’ isn’t really your thing isn’t far from the truth. Relationships suck. Been there, done that.

You always keep the same theory; relationships either end in heartbreak or marriage. And even still, marriage can still end in heartbreak, so what’s the point?

“Stop being dramatic,” Taehyung laughs after catching your snide remark from around the corner. He had just run to the back to get you a fresh package of cups after using up all the stock in the front.

Tonight is busy, to say the least. The sun is setting, and it’s the perfect time for families and couples alike to come in and get a cold and tasty treat, especially on a day as hot as this one. It’s over 100º, and the humidity is doing a real number to your hair.

“It’s not dramatic,” you sigh, leaning on the counter behind you as Taehyung maneuvers around you, placing the cups on the shelf underneath.

It’s just the two of you on the schedule tonight. Your boss is kind of an asshole, leaving 2 ‘kids’ in their early twenties to run the shop by themselves while he went off to do god knows what. Probably at the bar across the street, since his car is still parked in the back, but he’s nowhere to be found. That’s okay though, it's better than having him loom over your shoulder and critique your scooping texture the whole shift.

“Whatever you say,” Taehyung shakes his head.

Unlike yourself, Taehyung is a hopeless romantic, always looking for love in the wrong places. It always seems that his relationships never work out though, which has always confused you – Taehyung is a great guy.

So great that you have been best friends with him for as long as you could remember. It all started that time in pre-k, where you poured a shovel of sand on his head in the sandbox. Initially, it did make him cry, but he got over it eventually. Ever since, he’s been right by your side, sandy hair and all.

“How much longer,” your eyes roll back in your head, neglecting to look at the watch on your wrist in fear that your shift has a significant amount of time left.

“Just under an hour, we should start the closing checklist so we can get outta here,” Tae responds as he reaches for the rag and sanitation bucket.

Nodding your head, you follow his plan – beginning your mission to clean like a speed demon so you can leave at 8 o’clock on the dot. You’ll be damned if a customer comes in at 7:58, but there's always one Karen that comes as you’re about to lock the doors. You hate those Karens.

Lucky for you, closing tonight went as smoothly as it can go. You and Taehyung are ready to go at 8 on the dot, clocking out and locking up behind you.

“So what are we doing tonight?” Taehyung asks, his fingers adjusting the headband that sits just above his forehead.

“I was gonna go home and sleep…” you trail off, avoiding eye contact with him. You know his eyes are much too convincing to look into, and you are beyond exhausted from working a double today.

“Booooo you’re boring,” he teases, stopping in his tracks in the center of the parking lot, “it was an early night we should do something.”

With a deep sigh, you stop as well, turning around to meet his suggestive smirk. He knows he’s about to get his way before you have the chance to argue back with him. So you tilt your head, waiting for him to explain what he has in mind.

“I’ll be at your house by 9.”

And with that, you’re starting the ignition to your car and racing home, carefully, of course.

Taehyung is always spontaneous like this.

After making it home and rushing to get ready, Taehyung was there to pick you up, a few minutes late, but that’s just par for the course. When you end up at your favorite boba spot, you know Taehyung wants to talk about something. He never wants to sit down at a place like this just for small talk, you’ve picked up on his signs and can read him like a book.

But when you finally get your drink and sit at your favorite table in the back corner, he doesn’t say much. It’s almost like he’s waiting for you to speak up. His eyes staring down at his drink instead of sipping it, hands rested in his lap with his lip caught between his teeth. It’s puzzling, slightly, you thought he wanted to hang out tonight and do something adventurous…

The awkward silence and lack of gestures from Taehyung is starting to make you uncomfortable, so you decide to take matters into your own hands.

“How are things going with that girl,” you ask before bringing the straw of your tea to your lips, sipping nonchalantly.

“Oh yeah,” he sighs, his fingertips drumming along the surface of the table, “it didn’t really work out.”

When it comes to Taehyung, relationships never really seem to work out. To say it lightly, he is extremely picky. His last relationship ended because he thought the girl breathed too loudly. The girl before that had an annoying laugh, and then the one before that bit her nails.

Eventually, his pickiness has become a trend to the point that Taehyung will entertain a girl for a month or so. Then, he'll find something so minuscule within the said girl and turn it into a dealbreaker. The nit-picking things are way too much to move past for Taehyung. It’s clear that he is in search of the ‘perfect woman,’ like that even exists.

“You’re probably better off.”

You don’t think much of the words before they leave your lips. Relationships are a ton of work, is it really worth it to put all your effort into something like that? There is a way to just be happy on your own, you know.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He’s taken back by your statement, his eyebrows furrowing in response as he waits for your answer.

“You know what I think,” you tilt your heat matter-of-factly, “relationships are a waste of time.”

“What is with you and all this ‘anti-love’ stuff anyway?”

His question catches you off guard, a boba bubble almost catching in your throat leaving you a coughing mess. Taehyung chuckles at your discomfort, waiting patiently for you to get it all out and answer his question.

“I’ve wasted too much time with too many dead-beat guys to even think about love,” you sigh again, your coughing fit subsiding as you reach for your boba once again.

“Not all guys are dead-beats, you know.”

His words come out harsh, almost as if he finds your words offensive. Like you are meaning to group him in with all the guys you’ve dated in the past. Which is strange, Taehyung knows that he’s different. For one, you’ve never dated him before and two, if he was such a dead-beat you wouldn’t have kept him around for so long.

You can’t talk to guys, or most people like you talk to Taehyung. He’s the one you rant about the dead-beats to, along with everything else under the sun. He knows all the shit that you don’t tell anyone else, he’s like your own personal human diary. Secrets are always safe with him, it's not like he has anyone who would listen to the gossip even if he wanted to tell.

After a minute of silence Taehyung’s expression changes, his eyes squinting at you in that ‘I have a crazy idea’ type of way. It’s a look that you see often, and you couldn’t say that you would ever be used to it.

“Okay then I’ll make you a deal,” he proposes, a glimmering look in his eye that made you somewhat nervous. You never know what you are getting with Taehyung, but most of the time his ‘deals’ are on the crazier side.

“What is it?” You still ask although you’re a bit nervous to hear his answer. If his plan is to set you up with one of his delinquent friends or something–

“Be my girlfriend.”

Your eyes widen as the words leave his lips, confusion taking over your expression as a small chuckle leaves his lips. He can't be serious…

“Your what?”

“Two weeks is all I’m asking for. Be my girlfriend for just two weeks, and I’ll show you that love isn’t as shitty as you think it is.”

“You’re crazy,” you shake your head, a disbelieving smile stretching wide across your face.

“C’mon Y/N,” he challenges, “it’s two weeks of your life, what else do you have to do?”

The quirk of his eyebrow and quick squint of his eyes grabs your attention. He’s serious about this, scarily serious, and you aren’t quite sure how to react to that.

“What’s in it for you?” Your chin falls into your palm as you stare at him, waiting for his response.

“Well for one,” he starts, a sigh leaving his lips, “I won’t have to listen to you complain about how much relationships suck anymore.”

Just when you don't think you can roll your eyes any further into the back of your head, your own actions surprise you. If looks could kill, the one you’re giving him right now would surely take him out. He doesn’t pay much mind to it though, he’s used to your sass and just shrugs it off.

“This is an awful idea,” you glare at him as if it will change his mind. You’re certain this experiment of his would not change your own. Love sucked, and that was that.

“Two weeks,” his voice carries a taunting tone, his eyebrows wiggling to entice you into his plan. He isn’t going to give up on this easily, you know Taehyung. And Taehyung always gets his way.

“Fine,” you huff, “two weeks and that’s it. And if my mind isn’t changed you owe me 3 more of these,” you say, picking up your tea from the table and shaking it at eye-level for emphasis.

His bottom lip catches between his teeth, satisfied with your response. He isn’t exactly sure how he’ll manage to pull this off, but he’s definitely up for the challenge.

“We start tomorrow at 8, I’ll pick you up after work.”

Crossing your arms over the table, you bury your head in your arms. This is going to be the most interesting two weeks of your entire life.

“So you’re like dating dating?” Lainey’s jaw drops, excitement prevalent on her face as you spill about your night with Taehyung.

Lainey is the only person in your life that understood your hatred for relationships, other than Taehyung of course. Not that she shares the hatred herself, she just heard enough about how much you despise being in one to know how you felt.

Along with Taehyung, Lainey is your best friend. And she’s the only person in this world that you can bear to work a double with on a Saturday.

“That's the plan,” you sigh fiddling with the scoops behind you. It’s pretty slow for a Saturday afternoon, not many customers have come in since you opened up at 11.

That’s the thing about working at an ice cream shop – it sucks when it's slow, and it sucks when it's busy. Though it isn't a miserable job, you at least have Tae and Lainey to keep you company.

The smirk on Lainey’s face hasn’t disappeared since you told her about Taehyung’s deal. She’s shocked that you actually agreed to something like this, especially since it’s with Taehyung. The same Taehyung that ended a 3-month relationship last year because the girl ‘smelled like peaches.’ It’s only a matter of time until Taehyung finds your own deal-breaking trait.

“For the record,” you turn to look at Lainey, a grin still evident on her face, “I don’t think this is gonna change my mind.”

“Y/N,” Lainey whines as she draws out the last syllable of your name, plopping herself down in a chair to pout. “Stop being so…so…”

“So?”

Her face crinkles as she racks her brain for the word, rubbing her temples in hopes that it will come to her. Your eyebrow crooks in response, a slight chuckle leaving your lips as you wait.

“Pessimistic!” Lainey’s face lights up as it finally comes to her. She does have a point. It’s been a while since you actually let anyone in

“You know Taehyung, you never know, maybe something could happen,” her eyebrows lift at the end of her sentence, too suggestively for your own comfort.

“Okay no, that's exactly why this is only two weeks. I know Taehyung, he’ll be over it in 2 weeks.”

“Whatever you say,” the pitch of her voice is raised teasingly. She doesn’t believe this will be a two-week thing.

Lainey has been friends with you and Taehyung for 4 summers now. Once she started working at the ice cream shop with you two it was an automatic connection. Letting her into your little clique with no hesitation, you quickly became 3 peas in a pod.

But Lainey sees a lot of things that you aren’t able to see for yourself. You had grown up with Taehyung, grown accustomed to his unique mannerisms and behaviors without even noticing. Lainey, on the other hand, has a different point of view.

She sees the way Taehyung looks at you and how he hangs on each and every word that leaves your mouth. How he longs to make you laugh, watching you with a growing grin each time a chuckle passes through your lips. She notices every behavior that you see as nothing more than ‘friendly.’ But who is she to say? So, for now, the information remains tucked away and stored in her mind for a later date.

Your fingers drum on the glass cover of the freezer beneath you, leaning against it as you wait for a customer to come in. All this time with nothing to do is really doing wonders for your imagination; thinking about what Taehyung has planned for the two of you to do tonight. Nothing special, you hope, he really doesn’t need to go all out for this.

“He’s picking me up after work”

“Oooh he’s picking you up?”

“Shut up,” your eyes roll at her teasing nature, growing slightly embarrassed by how giddy it’s making you. It’s just Taehyung, and you are just hanging out like you do every other night.

The rest of you shift flies by – it always does when you work with Lainey. Before you know it, the closing checklist is coming to an end, only a few steps left before you can finally get out of here. The clock had just turned to 7:55 pm, but Taehyung still isn’t here. Not that you’re expecting him to be on time or anything, this is still the same Taehyung you have always known.

What you aren’t familiar with is the nervous butterflies fluttering around in your tummy as the clock approaches 8pm. What are you even nervous about? It isn’t a blind date, other than the fact that you have no idea what you’re doing. And it isn’t even a date. It’s Taehyung for crying out loud.

Speaking of the devil, the chimes in the front of the shop ring as Taehyung passes through the doorway. You don’t see who it is at first, your back turns to the door as you sweep behind the counter. The chimes ringing at this time of night do trigger your fight or flight instincts though, ready to turn to whoever is approaching and give them a dirty look for coming in this close to closing time.

But once you turn around and see Taehyung standing in the doorway with a bouquet of sunflowers, your tension quickly subsides. You swear that you can feel your heart skip a beat, heat rising to your cheeks as you try your hardest to form a manageable sentence. It's okay that you aren’t able to, though, the surprised look on your face is enough for his own to light up and beam across the room.

“I’m here to pick up the pretty girl with the coffee ice cream stain on her shirt,” he chuckles, his bottom lip catching between his teeth.

He dressed a lot nicer than usual attire; a dress shirt with a loose pair of slacks dressing his slim figure. His hair is light too, much different than the dark brown curls that frame his face. He’s really going all out for this – and you’re wearing a pair of running shorts and an ice cream stained t-shirt.

Lainey is just as stunned as you are, frozen in her spot with her jaw practically on the floor. She looks at you with wide eyes, her eyebrows raising as a smug expression crosses her face. You look in her direction, about to ask if she’s alright to finish closing on her own, but before you’re able to say anything she’s already shooing the two of you out the door.

With a goofy grin displayed across his face, he hands you the bundle of flowers, tied together with a delicate white ribbon. You mumble a thank you, still stunned that he showed up here looking like that to take you out tonight. So he is the romantic type, note taken.

“You like nice,” you gulp nervously. It already feels like a date and you haven’t even left the parking lot yet. If this is how things are going to start you had an exciting 13 more days ahead of you...

“As do you,” he smirks, his eyes wandering down to the small brown stains littering your shirt. Eyes narrowing, you read the expression crossing his face – of course, he’s joking. “I brought you some fresh clothes to change into don’t worry.”

Relief rushes through your body as the words leave his lips.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

An interesting yet on-brand response from Taehyung. He’s a big fan of surprises – as long as he’s not on the receiving end.

The drive to your destination seems long. You aren’t quite sure how long you’ve been on your way; between the agile back seat changing of clothes, which you are surprisingly skilled at, and the anticipation coursing through your veins, you’ve lost track of time All you know is that you’ve been driving through backroads for at least 15 minutes, and the destination doesn’t seem anywhere near.

“This is it.” The car pulls into a small dirt parking lot, dimly lit by some dingy street lights that aren’t doing such a great job illuminating things. Your eyebrow crooks unintentionally – this was it?

Your eyes wander outward as Taehyung parks the car, unable to see anything further than a 10-foot radius.

“Where are we?” The question leaves your lips in a worried fashion. Trees surround the parking lot on all three-sides, while the road you've pulled in from occupies the fourth-side. You’re hesitant to get out of the car, but as Taehyung rounds the front and opens the door for you, you’re on your way out. He motions for you to hold on as he pops the trunk – returning with a blanket and a reusable shopping bag filled with god knows what.

He still hasn’t given an answer to your question though, and you still aren’t quite sure where you are. If It was lighter out you assume it would be beautiful here, all the greenery dark and shadows hovering over you from the trees.

The bright light from his cell phone flashlight lights up the way, a path on your right

“Hell no,” your arms cross over your chest as you stand still in your place. He’s out of his mind if he thinks you’re going into the woods this late at night. You’ve seen enough horror films, stuff like this never ends well.

“C’mon, it’s not as bad as it looks,” Taehyung laughs at your pouting manner, amusement filling his system as you glue your feet to the ground of the parking lot. His puppy dog eyes plead for you to follow him, a hand outreaching in your direction for the taking. You contemplate it for a moment, your eyes narrowing as you ponder the possible outcomes of the situation before you.

“Fine,” you huff as you take his hand in yours.

His hand feels different in yours this time. His long fingers lacing between your smaller ones in the perfect fit that you’ve neglected to notice before. You’ve held his hand before, platonically though. This time it’s platonic too though, right? It’s just a date. A platonic date between two friends. Two friends who are dating on a two week trial period. So yes, it is strictly platonic. Right?

The dirt path doesn’t drag on for too long, but the sounds of bugs ticking and twigs breaking beneath your feet is enough to startle you. Every scared and breathy gasp that leaves your mouth is followed by a small fit of laughter from Taehyung. At least one of you is amused.

But the dirt path soon turns rocky, a clearing becoming more and more noticeable as Taehyung’s flashlight brightens the way ahead of you. The rows of trees come to an end as the ground flattens, a giant slab of rock lying beneath your feet. Out ahead of you is completely dark, and until you approach the darkness you don’t notice that you’re just a few yards away from the edge of a cliff. A river lies below the edge, the sound of water rushing fills your ears and calms your nerves. It is quiet out here, peaceful and without distraction.

Taehyung stands back as you admire the scenery around you – your own phone flashlight now out and panning around to look at the view. It’s beautiful out here, nothing to worry about but the sounds of the water and whatever Taehyung is doing behind you…

You couldn’t have zoned out for more than 2 minutes, but once you turn back around to face him a picnic blanket lies on the ground before you. Snacks scatter the extent of the fabric, a few candles placed in the center

“You really went all out for this, huh?” A nervous laugh leaves your lips before you swallow harshly. Never in your life has a guy ever gone all out like this for you. A late-night picnic at a secret location, fixed with all of your favorite snacks and some candles for ambiance.

“Had to,” he smiles, “it’s our first date.”

You join him on the blanket, grabbing for a bag of popcorn as you sit down. Maybe relationships wouldn’t suck so much if all men treated you like this…

Woah woah woah. It’s just Taehyung. Taehyung who already knows all your favorite things to eat. He’s just trying to be convincing – to prove to you that men take you on dates, do nice things. But stuff like this never lasts. Two weeks from now you’ll be going back to the same old Tae and Y/N friendship that you’ve always had.

The conversation goes on as normal tonight, he doesn’t make any moves (as expected, it’s Taehyung) and you enjoy the view and calm atmosphere with your fake but not so fake boyfriend. You stay out on the cliff for a few more hours before he takes you home. Taehyung put a lot of effort into making tonight special, and you appreciate him for that. But even after all his effort, you know that real relationships aren’t like this.

Every guy you’ve dated would try to woo you over in the beginning too. They call it the honeymoon stage for a reason. Things are always great in the beginning, lavish gifts and dates, loving gestures. That kind of thing never lasts. Soon the effort runs out, the guy gets bored of putting the work in, and they end up sleeping with your freshman year roommate. Well, at least that's how it is for you.

The bundle of sunflowers Taehyung gave to you earlier on in the night sits on the end table next to your bed. Each time you look at them all you can picture is the goofy grin he sported as he stood at the entrance of the ice cream shop. It replays in your mind like a movie. How he dressed up all spiffy just to take you out. How he took you to a spot only he knew about, somewhere so off-site and serene that he knew you’d remain uninterrupted. You can’t help but wonder if he’s using the same old tricks on you that he does to other girls though. If he only knew about that place because he’s taken someone there before.

Not that it matters though, you aren’t his real girlfriend. You’re just on a trial period. But for some reason the thought that he might have brought another girl to the same spot before doesn’t sit well with you.

“Sooooo,” Lainey teases, her chin falling into her palm as she leans on the freezer before her, “how was your date with Y/N?”

Taehyung chuckles at her nosiness, he’s sure you’ve already told her all about it. There are no secrets left between you two. Even sometimes Taehyung felt like the odd man out around you both.

“It was good.”

Taehyung keeps his answer short, leaving the rest up to her imagination. He isn’t one to kiss and tell or to not kiss and tell either. Things are better that way.

“Just good?” Lainey challenges, knowing there is much more that he’s leaving out. Her eyes narrow as she waits for his response. You haven’t told her anything about last night, not even where you went after he picked you up. Things are radio silent on your end.

Taehyung glances back at her, contemplating whether or not he should spill the beans.It would be nice to have someone else to confide in since it's always you on the receiving end of his secrets; however, this is the one secret that you can't know.

He chews on his bottom lip pensively, if anyone knows what’s on your mind, it would be Lainey. Not that Taehyung is looking to pry, he just has no indication to how you feel about last night, or about him.

Before Taehyung can even open his mouth to speak, a knowing smirk is spread wide across Lainey’s face. It’s that kind of look that makes him nervous – she knows something.

“You like her,” she muses, tossing her hair over her shoulder as the words catch in the air. It’s out there now, and it’s obvious. Well, maybe not obvious, but clear as day to Lainey – and that is more than enough to make Taehyung worry.

“I don’t,” He denies her claim, his willpower too strong to give into her.

“Oh yeah? Why do you self sabotage every one of your relationships then?”

Her words catch Taehyung off guard, his jaw clenching harshly as an annoyed breath is forced out of his nostrils. He wants to deny her claim once again, but he can’t bring himself to keep brushing off these feelings that have had a grip on him ever since he was young.

Lainey is right too. He does sabotage each relationship that comes his way. Taehyung goes out of his way to find something wrong with each girl he dates. He can never admit it to himself, but in the back of his mind, he knows that it's the fact that none of those girls are you.

“It’s written all over your face every time you look at her you know?”

Was he really that obvious? Did it show that much whenever he was around you?

“What do you mean?” Taehyung clarifies, the small once of hope bearing weight in his chest that Lainey is just joking around. That she doesn’t actually know the one thing he’s been holding onto for so long.

She doesn’t have to respond for him to know the answer. The quirk of her eyebrow and knowing expression on her face says enough.

“Well you can’t tell her,” he sighs, hand gripping harshly on the countertop as he stares down at the black and white checkered floors. Lainey turns to look at him staring down in distress, a sympathetic glance directed at him. He’s worried you’ll find out.

You can’t find out. If you do, then all bets will be off. Once you know Taehyung’s feelings for you there is no way that you’ll let your little arrangement continue. He knows you only agreed to this because there is nothing between you romantically, or at least as far as you know.

Lainey bears her weight on the cooler behind her, leaning comfortably on the cool glass. “I want her to be done with this ‘I hate love thing’ just as much as you do,” her fingers mock air quotes as she continues, “Want me to be honest?”

“Please.”

“I think you might be the only one who can change her mind.”

Taehyung’s heart skips a beat as the words leave her mouth. Blood rushes to his ears, pumping like a snare drum as he considers what she just said. He’s confused as to what she means. You agreed to fake-date him, but you still hate love.

A comfortable silence fills the air, Lainey watching him as his lips roll between his teeth as he’s deep in thought. Change your mind. The words repeat in his mind like a broken record. That’s what he’s trying to do, for the right reasons; so that you won’t be so miserable. But behind those selfless reasons come with smaller selfish ones. He gets to be with you as more than a friend now, and although it’s nothing more than some kind of test run, he can’t help but feel like this can be something more too.

“Like you think…” he gulps, clearing his throat as the words stutter out of his mouth, “I could get her to fall for me?”

The lack of response that Lainey gives is ominous, but the raise of her eyebrows and toothy grin forming on her face needs no words to tell. If anyone is to change your mind, it’ll be Taehyung.

That night Taehyung took you to the drive-in movies. To be quite honest, you couldn’t really recall what was playing, some Pixar film with bugs as the main character if you can recall it correctly. You were far too distracted laughing with Taehyung, watching as young kids played around on a grassy patch near his car. The giggles that left his lips each time the little girl waved to him were music to your ears. You never noticed how much he loved kids, how good he was with them.

The image of his hands clasped together as he fawned over the little girl, picking dandelions in the grass and racing to place them by your feet was burned into your memory. The boxy grin that graced his face all night long. The way his eyes squinted from his cheeks, pushing up as he smiled so big. The whispers of the word ‘cute’ each time her pigtails bounced while she toddled away.

Missing the movie doesn't disappoint you. If anything, the memories you've saved from tonight are more than enough.

The next night you were unable to go out, the shop was so busy that you were not able to leave until an hour and a half after your shift was supposed to end. Some punk kid dropped 2 cones on the floor on his way out and decided it would be best to leave them there without cleaning anything up. Maybe if it hadn’t been so busy then you would have noticed the spill before it dried up and stuck to the tile floors.

Naturally, you spent a good 15 minutes trying to mop up all the stickiness on the floor. But to your luck, Taehyung is working with you that night. Once all the customers left the shop he hooked his phone up to the speakers, grabbed your hands, and danced you around the shop. Well, it was supposed to be dancing but it probably looked more like Taehyung swinging your arms as you attempted to not trip over your own feet.

It makes up for not getting to go out though, and you’d take a night like that over a fancy dinner any chance you got.

It’s been 12 days since you became Taehyung‘s girlfriend, and as the remaining days decreased, so did your hatred for love. Each night he planned something special. The real kicker was the texts that you get once he makes it home from dropping you off every night. A simple ‘I had a great time tonight’ was enough to make your heart swell and heat rise to your cheeks.

And as you notice your hatred for love and relationships leaving you, you notice another feeling enter your system. Or several feelings…

Things are getting just as sticky as the night two when ice cream cones landed on the shop floor face down, sprinkles and all. Spending time with Taehyung like this is bringing some things to the surface you didn’t know were buried in the first place.

Every night that you spent with Taehyung over the past 12 days allowed you to see him in a new light. You got to see him on a different level than just friends. You got to see what every girl that fawns over Taehyung experiences.

Something about your friendship never let you jump past that barrier. You only see him as a dear friend of yours. Nothing more and nothing less. And now the issue is that...you aren’t sure how you’ll ever go back to see him as such.

You like Taehyung as more than a friend, that's for sure. And you know because of that things will never be able to go back to the way they once were.

Maybe you're reading too much into it, but your gut is telling you that you aren't the only one feeling this way.

The feeling of butterflies that pound in your stomach each time you meet eyes with him has to be reciprocated. There is just no way you can be feeling this way and he isn’t.

This isn’t like the feelings you’ve caught for any guy before, this is something else. Every night when you go home you lay in bed, staring at your ceiling with a dumb grin on your face as you think about your time together, about him. About the way his black curly hair falls in front of his eyes each time he looks down and how his smile lights up every room he was in.

These things that you were so blind to before can’t escape your thoughts, and it makes you wonder how many times or things you’ve looked over that make you melt, just like you are right now.

But in just 2 days, this trial-boyfriend period will be over, and you’ll have to go back to being just friends. Each day, each hour, each minute that approaches feels heavier and heavier. Anxiety floods your system each time you think about things being over, or that this arrangement you have isn’t even real.

When you think about the growing feelings you have for him, you honestly can't imagine what your life will be like any other way. What it would be like going back to just hanging out here and there. And what it would be like

You can’t even fathom thinking about what it would be like hearing him talk about another girl again. It makes you sick thinking that there's going to be someone after you, because in just 5 days this will be all over, and you’ll go back to being the girl best friend, nothing more.

Maybe it’s just wishful thinking that Taehyung has more feelings for you too. But the glimmer in his eyes as his bangs brush out of his eyes and they land on you tells a different story. When he looks at you it feels like you are the only two people on earth. He sees nothing else but you, and the way your eyes sparkle back at him.

Each day you spend with Taehyung after that feels like a wrench tightening the screws of your heart. 14 days is just not enough.

“Earth to Y/N” Lainey says waving a hand in your face. You must have zoned out, for god knows how long.

“Thinking about Tae?”

“What,” she catches you off guard, straightening your posture and brushing yourself off before responding to her, “no…just thinking.”

“Right,” the sarcasm drips from her lips, turning away from you as she wipes off a table in the front.

For personal reasons, you’ve kept Lainey out of the loop during this whole fake-boyfriend Taehyung thing. It’s better if you keep your feelings to yourself until you figure them out. And although it feels really really strange not giving Lainey the intel on what’s going on in your life, you know it’s for your own good.

Once you put what is in your head out into the world, you can’t take it back. What if you are just in the honeymoon-phase? If these feelings for Taehyung are only because he’s trying his best to woo you, and then they’ll just fade away as things return back to normal.

Something in you tells you that this isn't the case, but the small shadow of doubt in the back of your mind keeps you from talking to your best friend about it anyway.

The thing is, you don't have to tell Lainey for her to know. Every time Tae picks you up from work to take you out you shine. Your smile spreads so wide she’s afraid your cheeks will tear. The nervous shake of your fingers as you grab for your belongings as you head out the door doesn’t go unnoticed in Lainey’s eyes. She knows you too well to look over things like this, she just wanted to wait for you to say something first.

But now that you aren’t, Lainey has decided to take matters into her own hands, asking you about it herself.

“Lainey,” you start, waiting for her attention before you pull out a stool, sitting down and motioning for her to follow suit. She does, a questioning but knowing look evident on her face as she joins you. “You know how this thing between Taehyung and I is just an experiment or whatever?”

She nods in response, her hand quickly falling into her palm as she listens intently to your words.

“I think I messed up.” Your head is buried in your arms, laid over the tabletop in embarrassment.

“What do you mean?”

Her question is more for clarification, she wants to hear you say it herself. She knows that you’re gonna tell her you caught feelings. She sees it coming from a mile away, you confirming it is just the icing on the ice cream cake.

“Don’t make me say it,” you whine, neglecting to pick your head up and look at her. You can feel the grin on her face. You know she's smirking at you right now, doing her best to hold back a laugh. Finally, you got over your ‘I hate love and relationships suck’ thing.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about,” she sings, quite obviously teasing you while another deep sigh echoes from your chest. You manage to pick your head up, leaning onto your elbows with your chin caught between your palms as you face her.

“I like him.”

It comes out as a whisper, but Lainey hears it loud and clear. If you didn’t know better, you’d assume that the smile on her face can't grow any larger, but it does. She jumps up from her chair in victory, doing a funny dance with her arms whooping in the air to celebrate. You’re confused as to why, but you’re too far in your own thoughts to pay it any mind; your head just sinks back into your arms as your forehead presses against the cold metal table beneath you.

“I knew it,” Lainey smiles, her happy dance subsiding as she sits back down across from you. “I knew this fake dating thing was gonna work.

“Yeah well it really worked, because now I have feelings for a guy that’s never gonna reciprocate them for me.”

Your tone is laced with sarcasm, a disappointing ring outlining each of your words. You’re too embarrassed to look at the girl sitting before you, worried that if you do all the emotions you’ve been holding onto for so long will spill over and stain your stone-cold image; one you’ve maintained for far too long.

But Lainey’s your best friend. The only one that you should be comfortable being vulnerable about your feelings for Taehyung with; for some reason all you can’t bring yourself to be.

Before you can get a grip on your emotions tears are streaming down your face, falling onto the cold metal surface under you in small puddles.

A sympathetic sigh leaves Lainey’s lips as she tries to gain your attention, “Hey.”

Inhaling deeply, you face her – mascara strewn across your face in black streaks and eyes nearly bloodshot. You’ve held this in for far too long. Only a double would tire you out and exhaust you enough to cry on the clock. Thank God it’s a rainy day, no customers ever come in on rainy days.

Or at least, no customers usually come in on rainy days. It's not until you hear the bells on the front door ring that you’re wiping your eyes, whipping around to greet whoever was entering.

And then you see him, standing there as he shakes out his umbrella, a bouquet of sunflowers in his hand.

And he sees you; mascara running down your face and tears staining your cheeks. He’s early. Your stomach turns at the sight of him, emotions not stable enough to handle carry a normal conversation like

“Y/N,” his voice is quiet, worry dripping in his tone as your name leaves his lips. But you can’t face him right now, not like this.

Your feet move faster than you mind, standing up and rushing to the back to avoid him. Taehyung doesn’t follow you, just stands there and watches you walk away, solemn and worried that he’s done something.

It’s not until Lainey is rising from her seat and pacing over to him that he’s brought back to reality.

“Taehyung,” she starts, hands coming up slowly to console him, “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be here right now.”

“Wh-What’s wrong?” His lip worries between his teeth, eyes glossy as he stares at the door you just closed behind you. He’s looking at it intently, mind flooding with worry, wishing so badly that the door will just fly open, and you’ll tell him what was going on. In the back of his mind, he knows that you won’t, at least not for now. Talking about emotions has never been your strong suit, and chances of that changing at this moment are at an all-time low.

Lainey is unsure how to answer him, caught in between not wanting to lie and keeping your feelings private. She doesn’t want to speak for you; but she’s scared of saying something that can make this situation worse.

Her mouth gapes as she searches for a response to his question, lips opening and closing and she hums to find the right words. They don’t come.

The umbrella hanging from Taehyung’s hand drops with a crash, starling Lainey as she jumps at the sudden sound. But before she is even able to speak, the bell to the front door is ringing again, and Taehyung is walking away into the pouring rain.

The next day you wake up feeling numb. You’ve received several texts from Taehyung the night before, none of which you have the energy to reply to or even look at for that matter.

The guilt riddling your body has become too much for you to handle. You left work last night without even saying goodbye to Lainey. She’s a good enough friend and coworker to know that what you’re going through is more important than working the counter at an ice cream shop.

After Taehyung left she came back and let you know; she almost had to break down the door to the backroom in order for you to let her in. She told you to go home, get some rest and that you’d talk tomorrow.

But after waking up the last thing you want to do is talk about Taehyung; to think about him.

Every time you thought about how your arrangement was supposed to end in just a few days you felt sick. You have worked so hard to open up just to build your walls back up again. And now you’re back at square one.

When you agreed to be Taehyung’s girlfriend you did not expect to fall for him like this. He’s Taehyung. He’s your personal diary, the one who knows all the shit that nobody else knows and listens to all the shit that no one else cares about.

Feelings ruin everything. Love sucks, and you knew this before you agreed. You agreed under the circumstances that Taehyung could show you that relationships could be fun; not under the circumstances that he would make you fall in love with him,

And the more that you think about it, maybe you were always in love with him. Maybe you always had these feelings for him, but they were trapped in the tight bonds of friendship that your subconscious never let you out.

But none of that even mattered now. The deal had to be off, and you need to distance yourself from Taehyung before you are hurt any worse. The longer this goes on the worse that you are going to feel when it's all over.

How are you supposed to go back to normal after this? Like is Taehyung thinking that showing you how amazing relationships are, you won't fall for him or something? Or does his true plan consist of making you fall in love with him, just to string you along like every other girl he's dated?

You’re trapped in the never-ending spiraling thoughts, soiling your image of Taehyung with each new theory that crosses your mind. None of them are good. All of them paint him as a player, as someone who just used you.

But the little thump in your heart when you notice the sunflowers placed on your bedside table wants your mind to change. Your heart wants you to believe that Taehyung feels something too, that throughout this arrangement he has seen a different side to you too – that he’s fallen for you just like you have for him.

It's a knock at your door that guides you out of your thoughts. The repetitive tapping at your front door that drags you out of bed. And when you check your peephole and it's no one else, but your small blonde best friend standing on your doorstep that has relief rushing through your system.

The door cracks open, Lainey standing there with an umbrella in her hand – even though it was nearly 100º with clear skies.

“Why are you still in your pajamas? It's noon.”

She pushes past you and to your living room, plopping down on your couch and making herself comfortable as she waits for you to join. You spin on your heels, an exhausted breath leaving your mouth as you pace over to her, plopping down beside her.

“Why the umbrella?” Your brow furrows as she hands it over. You take it though, still confused behind the meaning of the object that you're holding and where it came from.

“It’s Taehyung’s.”

You nearly drop it as his name leaves her lips. The name causes your stomach to tighten, mouth-drying instantly as emotions well behind your eyes.

“Why?” Is all you can mutter out. Why was she giving it to you, why was she here, and why did she have it?

“You need to bring it back to him.” She says sternly, her eyes locked on you as she waits for you to look back at her. But you’re too focused on the umbrella placed gently in your hands, tracing your finger over every wire and the soft rubber handle.

“I can’t.” Your words come out in a whisper, breath light and airy as you sigh, sinking your body back into the couch cushions. Giving the umbrella back to Taehyung will mean that you have to go see him. And if you see him, he’s going to want to talk to you about last night, then question you about why you haven’t been returning his texts. No. You will not be giving Taehyung his umbrella back.

“Y/N,” your name leaves her mouth gently, a sigh following it before she reached for you, rubbing your arm comfortingly before continuing, “I think you need to talk to him.”

“Lainey,” you let out an annoyed sigh, “you know I can’t do that.”

You’re serious in your words. Not that you don’t want to talk to him. If you could, you would, but you can’t. There are too many emotions involved. The wound is fresh and seeing him would be rubbing salt right into it.

“Y/N,” she sighs, this time more forceful, she’s trying to get something across to you but it's going right over your head. “Talk to him. Please.”

“You know I’m going to end up hurt if I do.”

Tears well in your eyes as the words croak from your throat. It's dry and scratchy, full of fear and anxiety.

“I think you’d be surprised,” she mumbles, her eyes instantly widening on realizing the words that just escaped.

Eyes wide with confusion, they’re begging her to go on, but if she does then Taehyung won’t be the only one in deep shit right now. You can’t know what she knows.

“What do you mean I’ll be surprised?”

“I have to go,” she stands instantly, motioning to the umbrella, “and you need to bring this back.”

With a slight ruffle to your hair, Lainey is giving you a supporting smile and waving goodbye. And you’re left alone once again – just you and Taehyung’s blue umbrella.

It takes a lot of courage to get ready today. You make sure to take your sweet time rummaging through your closet, flipping through articles of clothing for the better half of an hour. At the end, you opt to go with a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt. There isn't enough energy in your body to put on anything else, and you know you’ll just want to curl back up in bed once you get home. Sweatpants are safe, and safe is just what you need.

No makeup today either. If things are anything like you’re expecting, your makeup will just end up ruined anyway. It's your better judgment to shower though, you’ve neglected to take one after work last night; opting to just bury yourself under your covers as soon as you got back. But today is a new day. And with a fresh shower and your comfiest pair of sweatpants, you are about as ready as you’ll ever be to get your heart broken into a billion pieces.

Umbrella in hand, you step out onto your front steps, relishing in your last few moments of ignorant bliss before making your way to Taehyung’s. You immediately regret your wardrobe decision as the sun beats down on your frame, the humidity making you feel sticky and gross – your favorite pants are no match for this heat.

But you’re on your way to your destination anyway, the drive feeling longer and more drawn out than normal. Taehyung didn’t live that far away from you, but the ride there still felt like an eternity with each theoretical scenario passing your mind.

Dragging your feet, you make your way to the front steps of his house. You’ve been here a million times, but today is different. From now on, every time you drive past this place all you’ll know is heartache.

You brush yourself off, taking a deep breath before bringing your hand up and pushing the doorbell. The sudden ringing sound startles you, even though you have every indication that it’s coming – you’re just too nervous and jumpy for your own good.

Footsteps approach the door, your stomach tightening more and more with the muffled pitter-patter of footsteps. You’re praying to God that it’s his mom, hoping that Taehyung just so happens to be out – even though his car is in plain sight parked just a few meters away from you. Wishful thinking, you suppose.

When the door to his house opens, you struggle to maintain your composure. He’s dressed similarly to you; a pair of sweats and an old sports t-shirt that has definitely seen better days.

“Hi.”

His eyes are sunken in, dark circles dragging underneath his eyes and his lips pulled downwards. He looks like a sad puppy, his dark hair all scruffy and sticking up in each direction – probably from him running his hands through it so many times.

“I came to give you this,” you extend the umbrella out before you. He nods before taking hold of it, his hand far at the opposite end making sure not to keep his distance. The more you look at him, the more sorry you feel for dodging his texts. He looks like he hasn’t slept a wink, and you’re afraid it’s all because of you.

“Oh...uh, thanks,” he struggles to make eye contact with you, looking down at the object in his hand.

It’s awkward, uncomfortable, and you can’t seem to find the words to say to break this strange tension between the two of you. He’s acting weird, shifting his weight back and forth but not moving away to close the door. His mind is racing once again – contemplating whether or not to just invite you in or leave it at that.

But with every aching bone in his body, he musters up the courage to lift his head, looking you directly in the eyes. Their dark like his, definitely from the lack of sleep you had the night before. Your mouth is turned downward too; hands fiddling together to try and distract yourself.

“D-Do you wanna come in?” He stutters, stepping aside slowly as he gestures towards his house. He suddenly worries when you don’t respond right away, taking a second to contemplate if this is a good idea or not. Ripping off the band-aid is never easy, but it needs to be done.

“Sure,” is the word that you decide on – hoping that it doesn’t make you seem disinterested or too desperate to talk. Maybe he’s just being kind though. Maybe it’s an empty offer, something that you say when you’re trying to be nice, but subconsciously hope that they won’t take you up on it. Like when you offer to share your food with someone, but you’re really hungry. You do it to be nice, not because you actually want to split the delicious looking burger and fries on your plate.

He leads you inside and to his bedroom. It looks the same as always, but it feels different. It still smells like him though, the comforting woodsy scent of pine and mahogany that he always reaches for. But that comforting scent is anything but comfortable. You’re frozen in place, unsure if you should sit on his bed and make yourself at home, much like every other time in the past. For now you just stand in the doorframe, waiting for him to tell you to take a seat, just like any polite guest would. A guest. You have never felt like a guest in his home before, or around Taehyung in general. But that imaginary wall between the two of you is standing tall and sturdy, and suddenly the two of you are reverted back to being strangers.

You watch as he toys with something on his desk, his fingers dancing from object to object and sifting through papers to look busy. The point of it – unknown to you but to him, he’s buying time. Trying to think of the first thing to say, what to ask, or if you even wanted to talk. Maybe you only agreed to come inside to be nice. Maybe you were too worried about hurting his feelings if you said no. But alas, here you are, standing awkwardly in his doorway as he shuffles around his room, his brain flooding with thoughts – but his mouth can not form them into audible words.

“I’m sorry for ignoring your texts.”

Your voice catches his attention, dropping whatever paper he’s looking at now and turning his gaze to you. You’re sunken into yourself, your chest thumping with anxiety as his eyes begin to wander your frame. Not in a ‘I’m checking you out’ manner though; more of a ‘you look so sad and I don’t know what to say to you right now’ kind of way.

It’s true though, he doesn’t know what to say – which is why he’s staring at you, hoping the right words would just pop up and he didn’t have to use any brain-power at all. He doesn’t want to say ‘it's okay,’ because it's not. You never ignore his texts, and that alone tells him enough about what's going on. You are upset at him.

“What did I do wrong, Y/N?”

His words sound accusatory but his tone is soft, gentle and full of worry. Eyes swollen and looking like they are about to fill to the brim with tears, his sight is focused on you; now not able to look away.

“I-I don’t know…”

Your answer is honest. You don’t know if his intentions are dirty. Yeah, that’s what you thought initially, but looking at him with such hurt written all over his face tells a different story.

Taehyung is silent, unsure of what more he can do or say to make you talk to him. He can’t force you to open up, he never has and he never will – that’s always been his rule. Everything you’ve shared with him has been on your own terms and conditions. Taehyung has always been here to be your listening ear, but he never pries.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

His voice is soft, eyes full of sympathy as he holds himself together. Those were the words he has been looking for. Now the ball is in your court and you’ll have to be the one leading the conversation. It’s just what he needed to figure this shit out.

“I-I don’t know.”

“Y/N,” he sighs as he drops himself down onto the mattress, “I shouldn’t have to say this for you to know it, but you know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

You do know that. You really, really do. But this time things are different. Is he expecting you to just come out and speak your truth like there won’t be consequences? No, he won’t push you to tell him anything you don’t want to. But the worry in his eyes and clammy hands are begging for you to just let it out so he can stop being in the dark.

You sigh out an ‘okay’ before sitting down beside him.

Rip the band-aid off Y/N. Quick and painless.

His eyes narrow, almost to a squint, staring right through you in hopes of reading your thoughts. Your expression is nothing but blank as you try your best to gain some sort of composure. Do you just speak up and spill your guts? The words replay in your mind over and over until your thoughts are beat down and misshapen.

You can picture his face when you say it; disgusted with a trace of disappointment and some confusion spread into the mix. Or maybe he’ll laugh at how pathetic you were, catching feelings for your fake boyfriend.

That’s it. There’s no way you can tell him. It would be much easier to just get up and leave. Tell him to pretend like none of this ever happened and that you needed some time to cool off. A few months maybe, or maybe you could just ghost him entirely.

“Y/N?”

The sound of his voice breaks you out of your toxic thoughts, and his chocolate brown eyes bring you back down to earth. You can’t just leave him in the dust. He’s looking at you like you’re the only thing that exists. Things will be okay, right?

“Sorry, sorry,” you exhale deeply as you calm your thoughts; shifting the nasty scenarios out and accepting that whatever happens after this conversation is your fate.

“Taehyung, I-I guess I wasn’t expecting this boyfriend-girlfriend thing we’re doing to go like this.”

His brow quirks at your words, confusion riddling his expression as his eyes narrow. With a tilt of his head, he’s pushing you to continue, visibly riddled with your choice of words.

“Swear you’ll be honest when I ask you this?” You question him, your hand moving closer to his as you lean in slightly. He’s like a magnet, you can’t help yourself from moving closer; even though the proximity of the two of you is clouding your thoughts and you can feel your heart beginning to swell.

He nods in response to your question, his eyes full of concern as he waits for you to continue, “Why did you ask me to do this thing?”

He knows that a question like this was coming, only if he could have prepared for it. But he didn’t, so his throat is left dry and scratchy as his mouth opens, only to stutter a bit before closing it back up. No coherent thoughts or words are able to escape his lips, just nonsense mumbling that caught himself off guard.

With a deep breath, he closes his eyes, regaining his composure before he can face you again. He agreed to be honest, and if honesty is what you want, honesty is that you’ll get.

“I’m sorry.” That’s all that he can say.

Oh no. This is exactly what you were expecting before you came here. He’s gonna tell you that he didn’t mean to mess with your emotions, that he felt you catching feelings and got carried away. That he’s sorry that he ruined your friendship and played you like a violin all at once.

“Me too.”

You don’t know why you’re apologizing, but you are. It feels wrong. Absolutely utterly, and undoubtedly wrong. Apologizing for your own feelings is not something that you are okay with. Especially when he made you fall for him like this. Okay so maybe thinking that is giving him too much power, but who the hell takes you out on dates for nearly 2 weeks straight just to laugh about it later. How can he expect you to not catch feelings for him? With his deep voice and fluffy hair that always hangs in front of his eyes, that little giggle he has when he finds something amusing. Everything about him was attractive. And you’ve fallen for it all. Hard.

“Wait, why are you sorry?”

A scoff escapes your mouth unintentionally, but it’s well deserved. “For being the idiot to fall for a guy that was playing her, I guess.”

You can’t look at him any longer, so your eyes fall to your lap, staring at your chipped nail polish and dirty fingernails instead of reading whatever dumb expression he has now. But if you just took a second to look up, you’d notice the widening of his eyes, how his fingers are beginning to shake and his mouth gape.

“Wh-What?”

“Don’t make me say it again Taehyung, I don’t feel like sounding stupid one more time.”

“No no I heard you, it's just,” his eyes slam shut, angry at himself that he let things get this far without keeping you in the loop.

You’ve been telling him that you hate love for years now. After hearing it so many times, he’d just given up on the thought of you. Maybe if he said something before you went through all those shitty guys things could have been different. But he’s let this go on for far too long, and now you’re the one that was paying the price.

“Y/N, I have feelings for you.”

Your neck nearly breaks with how fast your head snaps up. He’s the one looking away now, his cheeks a bit rosy as he tries to hide himself. He isn’t doing a very good job though, his hair is only shadowing his eyes and you can clearly see the way he’s nervously chewing on his lip; a cute habit you have grown fond of these past couple of weeks.

If he didn’t look like he does right now, you’d assume he was messing around. But you know Taehyung. You know his small little gestures and what they mean by now. You know when he’s being serious and when he’s telling a lie. He can look someone dead in the eye and lie to them, but when he tells the truth, he becomes shy and worried that he’s said the wrong thing.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You ask softly, gently reaching for his hand. The subtle contact makes him flinch, reacting by pulling your hand away. But his eyes meet your sympathetic ones, sparkling just like they always do, and he knows what he wants.

Taehyung’s hand reaches back for yours, lacing his fingers through yours before giving your hand a light squeeze. “You hate relationships,” he chuckles lightly, the mood of the room instantly shifting as the laughter leaves his lips.

“I hated the ones that weren’t with you,” you correct him, but your voice comes across as just a whisper. He’s close enough to hear though, a blushing grin forming on his face as you shyly look away. His heart flutters when he hears it, a million butterflies erupting in his tummy all at once.

“I hated the ones that weren’t with you too,” he coos, his eyes wide and sparkling as he looks at you with such adoration.

Time moves in slow motion as his hand meets your cheek, your eyes look deeply into his chocolate ones as he moves in closer. As your eyelids flutter shut his tongue runs across his bottom lip, wetting the surface before closing the distance between you. Finally.

And in that moment you’re at peace. Everything you thought you’ve ever hated, love, relationships, and maybe Taehyung for a hot second, are the only things that you long for. The 14 days don’t have to be over, and your days no longer have to be counted. When you’re with Taehyung you’re happy, you’re comfortable, and you're confident that he can give you what you have always deserved – but have never gotten.

His lips move against yours in slow, languid motions, his large hands holding you close like he’s holding on for dear life. But you won’t leave even if you want to, not now, not after all this.

Slowly, Taehyung shifts his weight and you move in succession. He’s laying you down on his bed, gently climbing over you without breaking the kiss. Things are becoming more heated now, you can feel it as his hungry lips devour your own. Your chest heaves up to meet his, your back arching off the mattress as his hands begin to scour your body. The heat pooling in between your legs is growing, an aching sensation overwhelming your core as your own hands reach up to rake through his long, fluffy hair. And you can tell he wants you too, the thin fabric of his sweatpants doing little to conceal the growing erection pressing against your thigh.

You can’t help but let out a steep moan as his hips begin to grind into yours. Needy groans fall past his lips and onto yours as you roll your hips upwards to meet his small ruts.

In a leisurely motion, Taehyung’s body is moving upwards, his knee finding a place between your legs as he brings himself up to a kneeling position. You chase his lips the entire way there, sitting up straight to be sure the contact doesn’t vanish, too consumed by your need for him to leave his lips.

And then his needy hands are running along the waistband of your sweats, fiddling with the tie before breaking your heated kiss. “Is this okay?” His words come out in a whisper, his eyes searching yours for any signs of doubt, but all he sees is lust.

“Yes,” you confirm, out of breath from making-out for so long without coming up for air. The lightheaded feeling taking over you goes unnoticed though, and quite frankly you’re too caught up in Taehyung to care.

Quickly, he rids you of your pants, looking back up at you for confirmation about your underwear. With an affirmative nod he’s removing those too, leaving you completely bare from the waist down as he stands over you fully clothed.

But soon he’s ridding himself of his own clothing, his shirt being pulled at the nape of his neck as he discards it across the room. He’s leaning back down to you, hungry for the feeling of your lips. He misses it, even though it's been less than a minute since he’s last felt your smooth lips on his.

You won’t open your eyes to see, but with the shuffling movements and shaky connection between your mouths you can tell Taehyung is stripping himself of any remaining clothing he has on. He’s needy, unable to wait any longer to get down to business, he’s already waited long enough.

You’re the one who breaks the kiss this time, too curious to see what he’s sporting down below for your own good. But you are not disappointed once you see it – he’s long and girthy; the pigment a shade or two darker from his skin tone than the rest of his body. Your thoughts are wandering, wondering what it's like to have him inside of you; dreaming about what he feels like. Arousal pools at your core, mouth salivating as your daydreams linger.

“Like what you see?” Taehyung chuckles. You barely notice that you’ve been staring, eyes wide and focused on the hardened dick before you, which is probably a bit uncomfortable for him.

“Sorry!” You cringe at yourself lightly, covering your eyes in embarrassment in fear that you just ruined the mood you’ve worked too hard to create.

“Don’t apologize,” he smiles as he grabs your wrists, moving them away from your round eyes. Scrunching your nose in displeasure, you catch your lip in between your teeth, mentally face palming at how weird you’re being.

He couldn’t blame you though, it was taking everything in him not to gawk at you. It was the first time you’ve seen each other naked. Bathing suits did little for your imagination, not that you had even thought about Taehyung this way before.

But he eases your nerves by coming down face level with you, reaching for your shirt and pulling it up over your head. You look at him with wide eyes, taking in each part of him as he caresses your body gently. He’s in awe of you like this. So relieved that you’re finally his, that he has you like this.

Nimble fingers dance down your body, landing at your core as he runs one up your slit, collecting your arousal on his fingertip. An impressed smirk grows slowly on his face, “I can’t believe you’re this wet already,” he hums. “All for me.”

His eyes remain focused on your center, devouring it with his eyes as his hands hold steady on your thighs. You can’t help but grow slightly embarrassed, dripping with arousal so early on though he’s barely touched you. A lump forms in your throat causing you to swallow thickly – this doesn’t go unnoticed by Taehyung.

A concerned expression crosses his face, brow furrowing as he moves his hands upward to settle on your waist. “Hey,” his voice is soft, gentle and full of worry, “everything okay?”

“Just nervous,” you answer, a fake smile showing on your face to try and combat your own emotions.

It is no secret that Taehyung is a bit more experienced than you are in bed. He knows that, you know that, and that is enough to turn you into a nervous wreck. Leave it to your own thoughts to ruin the moment.

“We don’t have to…”

“No!” Your voice comes out a little too eager, a bit loud, shocking Taehyung. His eyes widen in response, body jolting from the impact of your tone. “No,” you say more gently this time, “I want to.”

You did want to – you just have to get over your own nerves first. Luckily, Taehyung didn’t mind and was willing to guide you through it.

With a reassuring smile plastered across his face, he laces his fingers through yours. As you lock eyes, you nod him onward, giving him the go-ahead to continue. He moves languidly, his fingers moving back down to trace your slit once more. The sensation makes you tense, the nerves tingling through your body making it difficult for you to calm down.

But with a reassuring squeeze of his hand to yours, you’re taking a deep breath. Closing your eyes as you lie your head backwards onto his pillowcase. The smell of him consumes you, relaxing you effectively as his fingers meet the entrance of your core.

Shivers run through your body as he dips one finger inside. Your arousal acts as a natural lube, letting his finger glide gracefully into you. You gasp at the sensation, eyes rolling back into your head as he begins caressing your walls. His finger moves swiftly in and out of your core, his other hand still locked with yours to guide you through.

With your body finally relaxing, Taehyung is able to add another finger into the mix. The extra pressure makes you shudder for a moment, taking a little to adjust to the greater size inside of you. Thankfully the mild discomfort subsides, and he’s able to pump his fingers in and out once more.

He’s making sure to watch each of your expressions, growing harder and harder just from watching your face contort in bliss. With each of his movements you bite down harder onto your lip, focusing on him and him only.

“You’re doing so well,” he praises as his thumb rubs circles over your hand soothing you. You can feel your heart swell at his words, heat beginning to rise to your cheeks.

In one swift motion, Taehyung begins to separate his fingers, stretching your walls as his digits move in scissor-like motions inside you. “Fuck,” you mumble, hips jutting forward in reaction.

A steep moan leaving your lips as he brings his fingers back together, just to extend them once more. Your body is quickly getting used to the pressure, begging for more as you roll your hips.

He can sense that you’re eager from your movements alone. With one final squeeze, his hand is leaving yours. The empty feeling in your palm is unpleasant. But once you open your eyes and notice he’s using it to palm himself, his fingers groping around his length and beginning to pump slowly, that empty feeling is replaced with something else.

Your mouth salivates with desire, hungry for the feeling of him inside of you. He’s aroused you enough, and you’re too eager to feel him for your own good.

“Taehyung,” you moan, “fuck me please.”

His cock jumps in reaction to your words, his chest heaving as his breath catches in his throat. Never in his life did he expect to hear those words come out of your mouth – but he wouldn't mind hearing it again.

“Hmm?” He hums, knowing damn well what you said but being greedy enough to pretend that he didn’t. You whine in response, your legs shaking on the bed in a mini temper-tantrum.

“Please,” you drag out, “please fuck me.”

Your words are music to his ears. He removes his fingers from your dripping cunt, grabbing the backs of your knees to pull you closer to him and hike your legs up over his hips.

“Anything for you.”

Complying to your wish, he lines the tip of his cock up with your entrance. The feeling of his smooth head against your core is enough to make you moan, your head thrown back to expose the soft skin of your neck.

Taehyung takes this as an opportunity to leave his own mark behind, leaning down to attach his lips to your skin. You gasp as his teeth graze your skin, his plump lips sucking harshly before his tongue is swiping over the area to soothe it.

But your eyes open once he’s beginning to pull away to look at you. His eyes are dark, full of lust mixed with adoration, a sigh of relief leaving his chest as he gazes down at you under him. There’s a lot going on in his head right now. Of all the emotions swirling around, the thing he’s most focused on is how lucky he is to have you.

And before you know it, he’s leaning down. Pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, making you smile. One more kiss is left on your forehead before he's pulling back, securing the position of your legs on his hips.

And then he’s realigning himself with your core, pushing past your entrance and slowly descending into the depths of your pussy. He’s moving slowly, taking his time as he thrusts into you. The delicious stretch is unfamiliar, but it's not uncomfortable – like you were made just for him. A simultaneous groan leaves your lips as he bottoms out, the tip of his cock pressing deep into you on a spot that’s gone untouched.

He hums a sigh of contempt before pulling back, only to rock his hips into you once again. Your velvety walls welcome him delightedly, soft whimpers leaving your lips once he bottoms out again.

“Y/N,” your name leaves his lips in a low grunt, the bones of his pelvis driving into your skin as he begins to pick up his pace. In reaction you clench down on him, orgasm beginning to loom overhead with each movement of his hips.

Desire fills your senses as you roll your hips over to meet his thrusts. His movements are slow and intentional, making sure to bottom out each time to watch you squirm over his dick. He loves how your jaw drops each time his tip presses against your g-spot, knowing just when he hits it each time.

Taehyung’s teeth are barred, sweat gathering at his brow as his dark fluffy hair sticks to his face. He’s trying to hold himself back, the overwhelming urge to finish just in reach, but he doesn’t want to stop. So his hands roam your body to try and distract him, his palms caressing up the sides of your torso as your back bridges into him. The feeling of hot breath fans over your face with each sigh he lets out.

But the tightening knot in your stomach is threatening to snap with every movement of his hips. It's getting harder and harder to hold on with the power of his thrusts growing stronger.

“Taehyung,” you whine, “so close” your hands find his back, fingernails dragging down his spine in attempts to ground yourself. Taehyung’s face contorts as your nails pierce his skin, leaving lines of red scratches down the length of his posterior.

The stretch from his length and his rhythmic motions sends your senses into overdrive. Squeezing your eyes shut and grasping onto the sheets underneath you, you can taste the brink of your orgasm. Taehyung is focused; his grip on your thighs strong and his face contorted with bliss. But all you can think about is how stupid you could have been if you had decided to just cut him out. What matters is that you’re here with him now, and the thought of that is enough to push you over the edge.

Your breath hitches in your throat, stomach twisting and turning as your pussy throbs repeatedly around his member. Emotions running high, three words almost slip past your lips, but with the small amount of strength you can muster up, you hold them back. Another time, some time that isn't so lust filled like this one.

Taehyung’s thrusts are growing sloppy. His grip on your legs tightening as his lip is caught between his teeth. And with just a few quick thrusts, he’s coming undone inside of you. White, hot spurts of cum paint your walls, filling you up and making you feel so unbelievably full.

You’ve always felt close to Taehyung – he knew everything about you and vice versa; but this time was different. The way his hands settled on your legs, bringing them down gently after finishing. How his eyes are becoming so soft as he looks at you, a lazy grin pulling at his lips. You’ve never felt closer to Taehyung as you do in the moment. As his body collapses next to yours, pulling you in and holding you close as you recover from your highs, you’re completely at peace.

“Sorry I got carried away, I guess I should have asked if you’re on birth control still,” he laughs, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

“I am,” you chuckle alongside him.

Your naked bodies tangle together, his leg weaving its way through yours to be as close to you as possible. He’s intoxicated by you, closing his eyes as he rests against your body in complete bliss. Now that he has you this close he never wants to let go; and neither do you.

“Can I tell you something?” His voice is soft, whisper like but still confident. His tone doesn’t falter.

“Anything.”

“I love you, Y/N.”

Butterflies erupt in your tummy, your heart thudding in your chest as heat rises to your cheeks. He loves you. It's not that friendship kind of love anymore; it's the relationship kind. The same kind that makes your heart skip a beat and body riddle with every emotion in the book. The kind that keeps you up all night thinking about – but also helps you fall asleep, knowing he’ll be there in the morning.

And all of a sudden it seems so stupid that you were fighting those words back in the heat of the moment just a few minutes ago. He felt it too, you always knew that.

“I love you, Taehyung.”

Crush culture once made you want to spill your guts. Every guy sucked, relationships were stupid and love was a social construct that you didn’t feel like conforming to. There was absolutely no one that you would waste your time on, until Taehyung came around. What you had been looking for your entire life has always been right in front of your eyes – you were just too dumb to see it.

Maybe love is alright, after all.

#bb2020 #bangtanarmynet #networkbangtan #ficswithluv #btswriterscollective #smutcentralnet #magicshopnet #bangtanhq #cypherwritersnet #winterbearnet #kpopuniversenet #taehyung x reader #kth smut #kth fluff #kim taehyung #taehyung fanfiction

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mizufae · 2 years ago

Note

3, 12, 19, 29

3. A specific color that gives you the ick?

I’m pretty big on color theory (like, the way colors work together visually in different contexts, not like, astrology but with colors) so I strongly believe that every color has a purpose and is good in some context or another. But I do generally dislike cool beiges. The “greige” fad is horrendous. Skin tones are warm and lovely, greys are calm and centering, even mushrooms and medium browns are great when paired with other earth tones. But a cool beige is like the deadest color. Greige is the color that’s been pre-approved for the exterior of every mcmansion by your evil HOA.

12. Brand of haircare/bodycare/skincare that you trust 100%?

CeraVe seems to know their shit. It’s some of the only stuff that doesn’t make my skin annoyed when I have eczema patches. In the past year or so I’ve gotten more into skincare stuff in general and most of it is absolute bullshit. Eating well and staying out of the sun is gonna do more for you than the majority of products. But I do like the Toleriane line of La Roche-Posay stuff. Their eye cream lasts forever, isn’t greasy, and does seem to help my dark circles, and definitely helps when I have itchy flaky eyelids. I really like how the packaging makes it impossible for cat hair to get into it, unlike literally everything else I ever touch.

19. The veggie you dislike the most?

Yellow Squash Must Die. I’ve recently come around to zucchini, but for whatever reason yellow squash remains inedibly gross to me. I’m proud to say that I enjoy pretty much every other vegetable though. Like, I’m not gonna be psyched if I get a CSA box full of celeriac but I’ll make soup and be fine about it. OH. I FORGOT. I’m sensitive to Jerusalem artichokes/sunchokes. They taste amazing, like if chestnut and potato had a weird tuber baby, but they give me horrific gas. Not like, some unladylike farting. Like, painful, full body cramps, butt symphony for hours, life scarring gas. So I guess I dislike that the most. How dare they be so tasty and do me so dirty??? Offensive.

29. Preferred pasta noodle?

CAMPANELLE. It’s like a medium cut pasta that’s rolled into a loose cone with one edge that’s ruffled. It is so good because it doesn’t have the unevenness of cooking the way a bowtie does, but it does have the different thicknesses and textures. When you make it with chunky toppings it sometimes catches some inside the cone, while sauce sticks to the ruffled edge. My favorite way to make campanelle is kind of weird. I cook it semi risotto style. First, olive oil in the big pan, get it hot. Add salt and then add one layer of campanelle. Coat it in salted oil and toast it, so bits of it turn white and just begin to brown. Then, add white wine, cover, and let it absorb. Add chicken or vegetable stock, cover, let it absorb. Keep adding wine and stock and some water until the pasta is about 2/3rds cooked through. You can do it uncovered but stir more often and you’ll need more liquid. Once the pan is almost dry again, add a bunch of minced garlic, some pepper flakes, and some dried thyme. Add more oil and let it sizzle in there until fragrant. Put in a couple anchovies and mix them around too, but afterwards so they don’t burn before the garlic. Then add a bunch of chopped lacitano kale that has the water clinging to it from when you washed it, cover. Once that’s wilted down, toss in a can of butter beans, the juice and zest of a lemon, a generous pat of butter. Lots of black pepper, stir, eat. The beans will sneak into the campanelle, the ruffled edge will toast and have a nutty flavor, the kale will wrap with the pasta, the starchy butter and wine and garlic will all be absorbed into the pasta, and the lemon will brighten everything up.

#ask game #food

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secretsickficsyo · 4 years ago

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Pukeposal

About the time Nathan almost proposed to Elise. This is more from Elise's perspective. I'm not sure how married (badum tss) I am to writing from the perspective of the caretaker (especially her since she's very straight to the point when it comes to her and others' physical comfort) but here goes.

Elise squinted at her boyfriend. Nathan was picking at his food and staring at his wine for the last few minutes. He'd already been to the toilet three times and he was sporting an extra pale complexion.

"Angel?"

He looked up at that and smiled slightly, then broke eye contact again. He used to make fun of her for calling him that, or any other nickname, for that matter. He didn't get the whole English people calling everyone 'love' and 'dear' and 'sweetheart'. She did make sure to refer only to him as 'angel', so it would feel special.

"Nathan," she drew his attention again, "are you alright?"

"Yeah," he immediately said, "I just ate too much, I think."

Elise made a sympathetic, 'aw' sound. "Let's order the check, then."

Nathan nodded and took a long sip of his wine. He stifled a small burp into his fist. "'Scuse me."

She put her hand on his, smiled and scrunched up her nose. "Ew."

He huffed a laugh and signaled to the waiter for the check.

Elise kept her eye on him when they went outside, and while she unchained her scooter and handed Nathan his helmet. She watched him struggle to get the straps ready and huff a sigh of frustration. He had a sheen of sweat coating his face and arms. His cheeks were dusted pink, probably from the wine. He looked like he could barely keep his eyes open and his chin was all wrinkled in that 'I'm forcing my face to do this' kind of way.

"Nathan, are you feeling okay?"

He slipped his jacket on and grabbed the nearest streetlight pole. "I'm fine."

He shut his eyes tight and shivered for a split second. Elise scowled. "Angel, you look like you're going to pass out."

Nathan bent slightly at the waist. "Wait, wait, wait-"

Elise put her own helmet down and quickly removed his. She tried touching his shoulder but he shook her off. "No, no, no." He was almost whining, and bent even further.

"Nathan, please, talk to me. What's wrong?"

He took his jacket off and she grabbed it before he could decide to do anything else with it. He half hugged the streetlight, swallowing profusely. "I'm going to throw up."

Elise's heart dropped. She chained her scooter faster than she ever had before and grabbed Nathan by the shoulders. He tried to shake her off again but he was abnormally weak at the moment. Elise led him to a nearby trash bin. He had a hand on his mouth, a hand on his stomach and was hunched over, blinking away what looked like some fresh tears.

Elise stabilized him over the bin. "Breath, babe. I need you to breath."

Nathan took a deep breath through his nose, then doubled over and grabbed the edges of the bin. Elise rubbed his back, but she stopped when his entire body lurched forward violently. She swore under her breath when she heard the vomit spilling into the plastic bag and the trash. He was bent too far down for her liking so she moved to his side and kept rubbing his back. She watched him carefully, cringing, but making sure he didn't bang his head on the rim. She gave a nasty glare to a couple of staring bystanders and the two left soon after.

"You're okay, baby." She moved thick curls from his sweaty forehead. "Just get it out."

Nathan burped up another torrent and then finally stopped. Elise took hold of his shoulders again and wiped his face with her hand without even thinking. She immediately regretted doing that when she felt the slimey texture of the liquidy mix. She put her arm around Nathan's shoulders and led him to the closest bench she could spot. It had another bin next to it so even if he wasn't done they wouldn't have to travel far. Nathan bent again with his head between his knees. "I-" he burped, "I don't feel goo-"

He rolled with a heave and vomited a small amount of thick, chunky sick.

Elise rubbed his back with her clean hand. "You're okay, baby." She put his jacket by her. "We'll get you home, right?"

He nodded and sniffed and spat into the mess. "I can't get on the scooter." He whined. "I can't breath."

Elise kissed his wet temple and wiped her mouth on her shoulder out of his sight. "I'll get a cab for us." She unlocked her phone. "And I'll come get my scooter once you're in bed."

Nathan nodded again, then spat again, then gagged again. He croaked a groan and rubbed his stomach. "We'll have to pay extra if I puke in it, though."

"That's what windows are for, love. "

He huffed and put his head on her shoulder. "I love you. Sorry for being gross."

She kissed the top of his head. "You can't ever gross me out."

Thankfully, Nathan fell asleep on the ride home. She covered his shaking shoulders with his jacket and pet his hair. The driver looked at them from the rearview mirror. "Is he alright?"

"Yeah," she said, "he's just not feeling well."

The driver half smiled at her. "Hope he gets better."

Elise smiled back. "Thanks."

The driver kindly waited for her to wake Nathan up and help him stumble out of the cab. Elise thanked him and dragged Nathan to the building. They had a close call in the elevator where Nathan had to swallow back some sick and hold some in his hands, but they got into their flat just fine. Nathan immediately bent over the kitchen sink and Elise had never been happier to have washed the dishes ahead of time. She washed her hands and tossed his jacket on a chair.

"Elise." Nathan whined when she came back. "I'mb soring, id was zuppozed tob ee perfegt."

She shushed him and wiped his face with a wet washcloth. "Do you think you're done?"

He nodded and turned the faucet on to wash away whatever atrocities came out of him.

She lead him to the bedroom, where she helped him change into a fresh tshirt and some new boxers. He collapsed into bed and Elise turned on the ceiling fan. She left a glass of water with a note on the nightstand at his side of the bed and went out to get her scooter.

Upon deciding to make the five story descent down the stairs, Elise took this time to check her messages. Her mom sent photos of her little sister and Nathan's sister asked how dinner went. Nothing too urgent. She did update Olive that Nathan wasn't well but didn't elaborate. He'd be embarrassed.

She also decided to turn the trip back to the restaurant into a late evening walk. She plugged her headphones in, leaving one earbud out, for safety.

When Elise got back to the restaurant the hostess was outside, clearly not very happy to see her. Elise scanned the crime scene and realized the sick that should have been by the bench was gone. Someone from the restaurant must have cleaned it up. That sucks.

"Good evening." The hostess said coldly.

Elise smiled sweetly at her, but the way her brows arched made her look like she was up to some shit. "Yes, a swell one, even!"

She unchained her scooter and took off pretty fast after that but she was grateful to avoid confrontation.

Nathan was still out cold when she got back to the flat. She took the quickest of showers and slipped into fresh pajamas. She checked on Nathan one last time before scheduling a doctor's appointment for the next day at noon and switched the telly on, volumelow enough to hear the next door neighbor singing to his baby. Thankfully, it was the middle of October, which means as many horror movies as her twisted little heart could handle. Elise was about to set up on the couch, fluffy blanket and all, when she decided to take Nathan's jacket to the wash since it was all sweaty and whatnot. She was emptying the pockets when she found a green velvet box. Well, shit.

Her heart sank as she fought the urge to crack it open. She put everything back in the jack and hung it on their coat hanger in the entrance. Without thinking twice she just sat on the couch and cuddled deep into the fluff of her blanket. Holy. Fucking. Hell. Was she crying? When did she start crying? She was also half convinced that she might have been having a heart attack. She leaned back on the couch and watched the screen with a slightly mortified look. Was he going to propose? Was he sick from the nerves? Was he going to ask her in a public place? Was she going to say yes? Is he still going to ask her?

"Hey," Elise jumped at the croak.

"Hey!" She stood instantly. "How are you? Any better?"

"A little." He looked deflated, like someone vacuumed his insides. "Are you crying?"

Elise wiped her face frantically. "Yeah, Hatchiku was playing earlier. Still not over it."

Nathan smiled. "He was good boy."

"And a patient one." She interrupted. "Come, sit."

He joined her and cringed when he saw what was on. "Babe, I'm not well enough to watch Texas Chainsaw. I WILL puke on you."

#EliseKetcherOC #NathanWagnerOC #emeto #sickfic

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corvid-lullaby · 4 years ago

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FFxiv Write: Prompt #9: Lush

Characters: Nishiki, Kiryu Warnings: Slightly gross Relationships: Just bromance Notes: During Y0, humor, illness Word Count: 1,104 FFxivWrite2020 Master Post

~~~~~

“Hey… Kyoudai-... I’m not feeling so hot.” The words were waverly and weak, coming from a certain young Dragon of Dojima. Kiryu was sprawled across the ground, parallel to the rather fine kotatsu that complimented Nishiki’s semi-luxurious apartment. Really, the koi never did spare a single yen when it came to this sort of stuff. Too bad that did nothing to comfort his oath brother, who looked to be on the verge of death.

An exhale of smoke was the initial reply, with the cigarette Nishiki was working on being snubbed out against the ashtray at the kotatsu’s center. Leaning over, in fact he flopped onto his side, he placed one hand at his own chin in thought, and his other hand’s palm lightly made impact with Kiryu’s forehead. Closing his eyes, he frowned, then nodded. “...Yeah you got a fever alright. What the hell happened to you? You walked out in the rain when I told you not to, didn’t you.”

Glancing up, Nishiki saw a rather pout-driven expression from his foster sibling. “I didn’t have a choice…” is what Kiryu mumbled with equal guilt in his voice.

Groaning, the ‘healthier’ one then sat up, hooked his arms underneath Kiryu’s at the armpits, and proceeded to drag him towards the bedroom. “Alright, time to take care of my kid bro--dang, did you gain weight or something-gah!”

Kiryu’s body suddenly halted, thanks to the dragon grabbing the door frame from either side that he was currently being dragged through. Even at the angle Nishiki was at, he could see Kiryu’s cheeks were in full puff. Someone wasn’t happy about his last comment.

“Oh come on! I was joking!” A pause, but the grip didn’t change, judging by how he still didn’t budge when pulled. “Yo, I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you, okay?” Ah, finally. The grip was released. Upon closer inspection, it wasn’t out of Kiryu’s free will. The poor guy had fainted.

Groaning again, Nishiki pulled his futon to the ready, and tucked Kiryu in. Thankfully it was a simple flu, and the fever had gone down to a more reasonable level by morning. Of course Kiryu still felt like utter shit, and probably would for several more days. At least he was conscious now.

As for Nishiki, he had an old standby of medicines and antidotes, but for whatever reason he was in the mood to experiment. To find something a little better, and more natural preferably. After asking around at local food and herbal markets, he was pointed to a specific but common vegetable; Malabar Spinach. Not actually a true spinach, but, as he was told, had a lot of vitamins and was even high on antioxidants. It sounded perfect for his sick sibling.

With that, he also got ingredients to make a classic dish that Kiryu enjoyed a lot when he was ill; congee. It was started immediately upon returning home. For good measure and easy edibility, Nishiki even took the time to blend everything into a finer consistency. He did notice something wry about the texture, but he didn’t look into it too hard. It was a different vegetable being played with after all, so whatever.

Eventually a cooled bowl was given to the poor, ill Kiryu, who was propped up into a sitting position against the wall. The dragon smiled down at it, knowing all too well the effort Nishiki put into it. He was a good cook, and Kiryu loved congee, so the young dragon was very excited to give it a try.

And try he did!... But his face instantly screwed up into complete disgust. Oh no, it tasted fantastic. That wasn’t the problem. The problem came from the texture. It was… the slimiest thing he had ever eaten. The entire thing was thick, sticky, gooey--like a literal mouth full of snot. And so, Kiryu simply sat there, petrified still with the spoon still in his closed mouth. He couldn’t chew. He couldn’t even muster the strength to remove the spoon. He simply sat there, frozen, his eyes clenched shut into thin slits, … and looking quite a few shades both paler and greener.

“H-hey… You alright man?” Nishiki looked genuinely concerned.

Finally, after a handful of minutes, although it felt like lifetimes to him, Kiryu finally swallowed. He made a sort of groaning noise, but it sounded… a little too moist. Bubbly, even. It only made both of them have their faces screw up even more, with Nishiki leaning to gently rub the other’s shoulder.

“I-uhh… Hey you don’t gotta eat it if it’s that bad, you know-”

“Naw, it’s fine. I can take it. You said it was really good for me, didn’t you?”

“Y-yeah but-”

Nishiki couldn’t finish his words before Kiryu’s hand shakily shoveled up another spoon full and let it slide disgustingly into his mouth. Was the shaking from him being ill from his illness or from the food? Your guess is as good as mine. Again his face screwed up, but worse this time when a piece of stray stem forced him to chew on it. Like the tough champ he was, he eventually finished the entire bowl.

A moment of silence, before, “You finished it.”

“Yeah…”

“...”

Suddenly Kiryu shot up onto his feet and made a bee line for the restroom. It was safe to say why, without detail. The grotesque sounds of heaving and liquid contact was plenty enough to paint a picture, to Nishiki’s dismay. At least Kiryu was proud to have kept most of it down and having finished the entire bowl.

Until he found out there was an entire pot left.

The koi insisted over and over that he didn’t need to eat it, but Kiryu couldn’t be swayed from his stoic personality. Over the next few days, even after he fully recovered from his illness, which moved on faster than usual, he still continued to eat it down to the last drop. Thankfully he grew accustomed to the texture by then. Being the type to conquer literally anything that looked him down helped. That and he genuinely enjoyed the flavor of the congee, so he was happy that he got to honestly enjoy it in the end.

What was even more strange was something he noticed in the mirror after a few more days had passed. That morning, he leaned close to inspect his reflection. Kiryu was young, but his skin felt even more youthful and supple. Even his hair was more hydrated and healthy looking. Was it from that spinach? It could have been. He didn’t mind, though.

He was lush. ✨✨✨

#koikoi•#nishiki•#kiryu•#FFxivWrite #FFxivWrite2020 #yakuza #ryu ga gotoku #kiryu #kiryu kazuma #kazuma kiryu #nishiki #nishikiyama #nishikiyama akira #akira nishikiyama

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gboxventspace · 5 years ago

Text

I feel volatile. Not sure how else to describe it. These last couple days I’ve barely gotten out of bed, my heart pounding for no reason, anxiety at the edges of my thoughts just as strong as the exhaustion. I want to sleep more, but I don’t. I want to be alone but not in a bad way? I feel like I’ve found a sort of liminal space here, curled up in bed on my phone, the fan going so I don’t hear anything else in the house. Time keeps creeping forward but it doesn’t matter.

I should be applying for jobs. I should be calling about bills. I should be sorting my stuff, still packed in boxes. I should be up and dressed and at least talking to my family. But I’m not, and I can’t make myself do it. I don’t want to leave this floaty unreality, even if I spend it all on the precipice of falling into an anxiety attack. I’m on the edge of a hot pot, I crawled my way up the side and now I’m sitting on the ridge, feet dangling over the fire. I feel the heat coming up, it’s uncomfortable, but better than if I made a move forward. Backwards would be back into the hot pot too, not as bad as the fire but still burning and dark and trapping. I’m on an edge, the idea of safety, as far from the fire as I can be without committing and seeing how long I can dangle here before I face reality one way or another.

Why is it like this? Why am I like this? I do t want to be like this. I take my meds, I go to therapy. I try. Why does it feel like I’ve been wrung out like an old sponge? I’ve never been the energetic sort, but even the little bits of excitement are gone. I either feel empty or anxiety. Things that make me excited usually still make my heart race, but it feels closer to panic than anything good. I’m stuck in a place of transition, between jobs, between choices, between phases of life that I’m reluctant to leave. Time marches on but I don’t wNt to, I don’t want change, yet I do? I don’t know what I want. I don’t know what I need. Why does my brain feel so foggy?

Does getting high at night make it worse? It seems to. The days after I have a high night are often like this, floaty and exhausted. I don’t know if I even like being high that much. Why do I keep doing it? I hate how I stuff my face anyway, why do I take drugs that make me donit even more? I don’t want to eat but I do. It takes away the guilt for a while. If I stop buying snacks I’ll stop binging on them, but then instead I’m laying there hungry, desperate, unable to think of anything but my hunger and my weight and if I want food or not and if I should just lay there and waste away. Hunger pangs send me into a spiral of self loathing and pride, but then so does being so full I’m in pain. Pain. Control? Part of me is glad I still bite my nails because it means that when I start scratching I can’t do much damage. I wish I could do more but I know I shouldn’t. My poor scalp. I don’t want to damage my hair but it’s a relief. If I want my arms, my keys are right there, right in reach.

Tactile. When I was high last night, I couldn’t get the word out of my head. I’ve been needing so much tactile stimulation lately. Eating is a form of it, the texture and taste of the food, chewing, swallowing. I’m constantly rolling around in my bed, touching and rubbing and stractching at whatever parts of me I can reach, needing that sensation. Why? What else could I do to appease this? I don’t want someone else to touch me, not really. I don’t need touch from someone else. I just need more. My room is blank and white, I haven’t gotten around to putting up my decorations yet, maybe that’s part of it? White sheets, white pillow, white walls. My painting is hanging up, a splash of color, and I can have other colors, but I don’t know if it’s enough. I need to fling paint around I think. Cover my walls, my skin, all of it in bright paints. I need markings, signs, something visible and tactile. But my room’s also the guest room, so I can’t decorate it without my mom’s permission. I get it. But I loathe it.

I don’t need to break boxes, not like last time. Weeks ago when I went into the garage and threw a fit, tearing and throwing and cutting and smashing boxes until I couldn’t feel my hands, my shoulder thrown out and my back strained, old nails ripped from the walls and cardboard all over the floor. This isn’t as violent as that. But it’s physical, it’s visceral, and I don’t know how to vent it out. Cheap paints, acrylics maybe, or tempura, slathered over everything, flung. Make beauty out of pain.

It’s why I have that henna, maybe I should do that. Too much patience though, waiting to chip it off. Sharpies? Nail polish? Mark my skin. I used to go to town on my skin in the shower, relishing in how pliable it was in the hot water, how bright red nail marks look against my stomach and chest in the bathroom light. Visible, tactile, real. For a while I kept a pair of safety scissors in the shower too. Was always too chicken to go deeper than surface level.

It’s funny. Once my dad found razor blades in my bathroom, open and sitting out. I genuinely have no idea how they got there or why, but he pulled me aside to ask about them, but wasn’t overly concerned. When I asked why, he said I “didn’t have the right marks for them”, so he knew I wasn’t cutting. Hah. Scratches are too temporary to make anyone think twice. Is that a blessing or a curse? I want them to be seen, to be acknowledged, to be pitied, but then I don’t want the follow up of being hounded. Or do I? Why am I feeling so starved for validation when I’m practically drowning it it anyway?

Why am I like this? Why am I like this? Why won’t it ever go away? Why can’t I have control over myself, my actions, my thoughts, my body? Where’d my control go? Did I ever have any? Do I even want it? Control sounds exhausting. More exhausting than this? Than wishing? Struggling? I want to drift, to drown. My arms ache from climbing out of my own mental pits of despair again and again and again, knowing it’ll never truly get better, I’ll never fully be done or heal. These pits will never go away, no matter how much I progress, how hard I fight and try. What’s the point? Claw my way out just to slip again? Why make a bed you’re just gonna sleep in again. Why shower when you’ll sweat again. Why eat when you’ll just gain weight and get hungry again. I’m wasting away, wasting time, wasting life I should feel blessed and priveledgef to have. Can’t I give it to someone else? Can I give allnof this to the people who need it more, deserve it more? Would cherish it, use the opportunities for good instead of wasting them like me? I have no right, no reason, nothing. I shouldn’t feel like this. I take a handful of pills every day, have for years, why don’t they work?

The scary thing is, they do. This is better than I am without them. Why is my baseline so abysmal? Is it not the right balance of chemicals yet, or does it not even matter? Will it always be like this? I get better just to fall again, always, and it’ll never stop, never go away. Life’s a fucking hydra and my sword’s dulling like chewed nails dragging on skin. I can’t even cry. Sitting here, typing this, all I feel is my heart pounding incessantly in my chest, my breaths coming short, never enough oxygen, never deep enough. Maybe I’d breathe better if I wasn’t fat. No, I know I would, doctors say I would. That one guy compared me to a truck, my sleep apnea being like a car engine trying to pull a truck, and it’d work fine if it was instead pulling the smaller body it was meant for. Am I meant to be smaller? I try and look at the bright side of my size, my strength and softness, but it falls short. I’m not that strong in the grand scheme of things, and my softness is negated by my sweat, being a space heater that can never turn off. What’s the point in being soft for hugs and shit if you’re also wet and disgusting? I shower, but within minutes of getting out I’m sweating again, no matter the temperature or what I do. Why would anyone want to hold me? Why would anyone want me? I want to be wanted. I want to be wantable. Why though? Why does it even matter? Do I want the attention itself, or just the knowledge that I could have it if I chose? Why can’t I be different? Why am I stuck being the weird one, the pitied one, the slow one, the “she’d be pretty if she lost weight”, the “you can’t have an eating disorder if you’re fat”, the “i dare you to ask the gross one out”. Am I gross? Inherently? No matter what I do, I repel people. I’m nice, I think. People like talking to me. But not getting close to me, because I cling, I become an unwanted burden every time. Should I try harder? Less? At all? Why? Why can’t I be satisfied, happy, accepting what I have without always craving more? Selfish. Gluttonous. Slothful.

What do I deserve? Is there such a thing? The universe doesn’t care. It’s beyond empathy, beyond emotions like ours. All we can do is tap into it, talk to it, ask for favors or little treats. Like pets. We’re pets to the universe, thinking we have free will and agency. Nothing matters. Nothing’s real. Is that a comfort or a cold slap in the face? I’m not special. I’m as unique as everyone else. The people in my immediate vicinity know me, some love me. Plenty would miss me. Does it matter? Why? When?

Why am I like this..?

9/5/19 4:42 pm

#personal #essay

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kristsune · 6 years ago

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All 99 asks for NJ + does he get a happy ending to his story?

1. What do they smell like? He smells a bit like grease and that slight hot electric smell when dealing with a lot of electronics. There is also always an underlying scent of vanilla.

2. What is their voice like? He’s rather soft spoken and gentle, but there is a confidence there and steel behind his words when he needs there to be.

3. What is their biggest motivator? To protect his brothers, and end the war as soon as possible.

4. What is their most embarrassing memory? There was one time when Rex caught him in the middle of a dare from Hardcase.

5. How do they deal with/react to pain? He takes it and deals with it. His dizzy spells can turn into headaches and even migraines, but he refuses to tell the medics about them so he deals with them as best he can. But it means he has a pretty high tolerance.

6. What do they like to wear? He loves his flight suit, it’s comfy and it feels right. (in many modern aus he is an unintentional hipster.)

7. Which of their relationships have impacted them most positively? Caliber is his best friend, she supports him so much. Kix and Jesse are practically dads to him, and protect him the best they can. Anomaly is extremely special to him, lifts him up like no other.

8. What’s the weirdest thing they’ve ever eaten? NJ loves to try unusual foods when he can when planetside. And where he definitely respects other people’s cultures he is definitely not eating a Yalvik queen stinger again, no matter how much they are considered a delicacy.

9. Describe the way that they sleep. He tends to sleep curled up on his side, not taking up a lot of space. He sleeps in his cockpit as often as not, so scrunched up is normal.

10. What is their favorite food/kind of food? He loves anything with flavor. Honestly just about anything is better than the flavorless, badly textured osik they had on Kamino.

11. What do they feel most insecure about? They aren’t terribly insecure about a lot, but they are shy, and many would take that as being insecure. That being said, he doesn’t love showing off his body in a public situation, being smaller and having unusual mutations for a clone, he tends to not want to make a show of himself.

12. How do they like to dress? Isn’t this super similar to 6? But he loves to wear soft comfortable clothes when he can.

13. How do they react to feelings of guilt? He carries it like a weight on his shoulders.

14. How do they react to/deal with betrayal? Someone close to him betraying him would cut him to the bone. When he trusts, its with his entire being. It would gut him to be betrayed)

15. What is their greatest achievement? One of the bigger ones was managing to tune his fighter enough to get it going faster than Anakin’s.

16. What are they like when they’ve gotten too little sleep? It happens more often than not. He tends to just get more quiet and isolated, but when talking to him, you really wouldn’t be able to tell.

17. What are they like when they’re drunk? He doesn’t get much more than a pleasant buzz when he drinks, but when he gets there, it tends to be very giggly and happy.

18. What kind of music do they enjoy? He loves a variety of music, but anything uplifting with a happy edge, basically great flying music, is what he goes for.

19. Are they right or left handed? Ambidextrous.

20. Fears? Not being able to fly, losing those closest to him. The war never coming to an end.

21. Favorite kind of weather? Clear bright skies, perfect for flying

22. Favorite color? Blue, it waffles between 501st, sky blue, and the blue grey of Anomaly’s eye.

23. Do they collect anything? Nothing in particular, but he does love picking up a stray feather here or there.

24. Do they prefer either hot or cold weather more? Cold is always better for flying, though cool is better than straight up cold.

25. What is their eye color? Light golden amber

26. What is their race/ethnicity? Maori

27. Hair color? Dirty blonde

28. Are they happy where they are currently? They are able to fly, and protect his brothers and the people of the Republic. Would he prefer there to not be a war? Yes, but is this is as good as it gets)

29. Are they a morning person? Yes. He can sleep in if needed, but he can be up early too.

30. Sunrise or sunset? Answered here

31. Are they more messy or more organized? He’s mostly organized, sometimes things will pile up and he has to take time to clean up, but it never really gets out of control

32. Pet peeves? Loud chewing, putting down others for no reason other than being mean

33. Do they own any objects of significant personal importance? Technically he doesn’t own it, but his fighter. He has modified it enough, he considers it his own.

34. Least favorite food? The flavorless protein meals on Kamino

35. Least favorite color? He loves all colors, but if he had to choose, it would probably be blood red, he’s just seen too much of it for his own liking.

36. Least favorite smell? Electrical fire

37. When was the last time they cried? Also found here

38. Were they with anybody the last time they cried? Very likely with either Caliber or Jesse, they both are very good at comforting him when he is upset (the best hugs)

39. Tell us about one of the times they got injured? Being a pilot, he actually hasn’t received too many injuries. Being shot down generally ended in explosions or being sucked into the vacuum of space, so minor injuries weren’t as common, though he has had his share of minor injuries as a cadet.

40. Do they have any scars? Nothing major to speak of.

41. Do they struggle with any mental health issues? Many of the same that anyone who has been through a traumatic war has to deal with

42. Do they have any bad habits? He likes to forget to eat or drink enough, especially when in the hangarbay working on his fighter.

43. Why might someone dislike them? Because he’s a mutie, there are definitely clones that are biased against them, also because he is a pilot, and there are those that don’t think the pilots are real soldiers.

44. Why might someone love them? Because they are sweet and caring and wonderful. They are loyal and fierce and will fight for those he cares about.

45. Do they believe in ghosts? Yes, they are absolutely sensitive to all of that.

46. Is there anyone they would trust with their lives? Anomaly, Caliber, Kix, Jesse, much of the 501st tbh, at the very least all of Torrent.

47. Are they romantically interested in anyone? Anomaly, and later Killer.

48. Are they dating/married to anyone? Anomaly, and later Killer

49. Do they like surprises? Happy surprises? Sure. Not happy surprises. No. not so much.

50. When is their birthday? N/A

51. How do they usually celebrate their birthday? N/A

52. Do they have any family? He considers his closes vode his family

53. Are they close to their family? Extremely

54. What is their MBTI type? I am shit at this and i have no idea tbqh lol

55. What is their zodiac sign? N/A

56. What Hogwarts House would they be in? Hufflepuff most likely, maybe Ravenclaw.

57. What D&D alignment are they? Neutral good

58. Do they ever have nightmares? If so, what about? Crashing his fighter, losing his brothers/those closest to him. His brothers turning on all they believed in and killing those they loved best.

59. What are their views on death? It is just the next stage in whatever world they are in. though he would still like to stay alive as long as he can, to be with those he loves

60. What is something that they’re sure to laugh at? Caliber’s jokes, and Anomaly’s cheesy pickup lines he likes to tease him with.

61. When bored, how do they pass time? He loves working on anything mechanical. Tinkering is his favorite thing to do. Lacking that, he does love to read.

62. Do they enjoy being outside? Absolutely.

63. Do they have an accent? The same as most clones, New Zealand

64. Upon seeing a slice of chocolate cake, what is their first reaction? If he knows its for him, he will absolutely fall into that, if there is someone with him he would offer to share

65. If they knew they were going to die, what would they do/say? He would wish he could say goodbye to those he loves, and make sure his last act is saving as many brothers as he can

66. How do they feel about sex? He likes it, he likes to have fun with it, but really only has sex with those he has at least some sort of relationship/acquaintance with. He doesn’t really do casual sex.

67. What is their sexuality? Bi/Pan but heavily leaning towards masculine presenting

68. Do they become squeamish at the sight of blood? No. He’s seen too much by this point

69. Is there anything that they find really gross? He hates wet hair in a clogged drain. Makes him gag. (honestly the biggest downside to his long hair)

70. Which TV Trope(s) best describes them? I am… honestly not sure how to answer this

71. Do they enjoy helping people? Absolutely, core to his being.

72. Are they allergic to anything? I have a feeling the Kaminoans probably tried to modify the clones to try and make sure that happens, but who knows. He hasn’t run into any problems so far

73. Do they have a pet? No. He wouldn’t feel good about keeping something he can’t be there for all the time.

74. Are they quick to anger? What are they like when they loose their temper? No. It takes quite a bit to get him there. But when he does? He is ruthless to make sure you know what you did and pay for it. (aka the fic i wrote Force of Gold)

75. How patient are they? Most of the time, he is pretty patient, but if something is giving him anxiety it shortens quickly

76. Are they good at cooking? He’s not bad, but he’s also not great. He can do super basics, like boil a pot of pasta (makes either way too much or not nearly enough) He can (mostly) not burn things.

77. Favorite insult? Do they insult people often? He isn’t big on insults. They absolutely have a place in his vocabulary, but you have to earn them from him, usually by being a dick.

78. How do they act when they’re particularly happy? He smiles and laughs often. It’s absolutely infectious, and he just lights up from within

79. What do they do when they learn about other people’s fears? If they were told to him in confidence, he would keep that secret to the grave.

80. Are they trustworthy? Very.

81. Do they try to hide their emotions? Are they good at it? Yes and Mostly. Those that know him well can read him pretty well.

82. Do they exercise regularly? Yes, but nothing super intense.

83. Are they comfortable with the way they look? He can be self conscious about it, but he does love his mutations and the way he looks. He started to grow out his hair very early on because he loved it so much and it felt right.

84. What are some physical features that they find attractive on people? Long hair, lean muscle, beautiful eyes (especially mismatched ones)

85. What kind of personalities do they find attractive? (Kind and caring, even if its hidden underneath.)

86. Do they like sweet foods? Yes, Not overly sweet, but he definitely likes them

87. What is their age? Excellent question that I do not have the answer for, he’s definitely a younger clone, deployed later in the war

88. Are they tall or short or somewhere in between? He’s a bit shorter and leaner like most pilots

89. Do they wear glasses or contacts? No

90. Do they consider themselves attractive? Yes, maybe not as much as others see him, but he can definitely see it.

91. What is their sense of humor like? All over the place, depending on his mood, but he loves jokes and silliness between friends.

92. What mood are they most often in? Focused, on his work or flying.

93. What kinds of things anger them? Bullies, people being nasty for no reason

94. Outlook on life? Generally pretty positive, though he does have his low moments.

95. What kind of things make them sad/depressed? Losing brothers, the ongoing war

96. What is their greatest weakness? He trusts pretty easily, and can be led to believe things that he probably shouldn’t

97. What is the greatest strength? His abilities with mechanics and his fighter, an excellent pilot

98. Something that they regret? Not being able to save more of his brothers

99. Biggest accomplishment? Isn’t this basically 15?

100. Create your own! Nonnie asked: does he get a happy ending to his story: I mean? Yes? In the cyuane verse him and Anomaly get away and eventually join the rebellion, but they are alone. Sooo it or miss? He’s alive, and not completely alone, and they eventually find some level of happiness, but is it happy specifically not entirely.

#kris replies #nonnie #nj #thank you for asking omg!!#<3 <3 #jesse's children #anomaly #caliber #killer #this took.... so long omg

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andromeda3116 · 7 years ago

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so, @thereigning-lorelai requested this, and i didn’t realize until, oh, thirty seconds ago, that i am not the only person who took it and ran with it and tbh, i don’t know if i should apologize? i feel bad, i don’t wanna step on any toes. but um. “jyn is in hardcore denial” is kinda my jam, so i got excited and wrote almost four thousand words about this.

eta: ao3 link! (now with a poor title because i am poor at titles)

In spite of the knowing looks they got from most of the flagship and at least half of high command, Jyn and Cassian were not involved. They were soldiers, and professionals, and far too focused on missions, and at any rate, were friends, and entirely platonic. Jyn felt about Cassian the same way she felt about Bodhi, or maybe Han (except without the usual desire to smack him upside the head).

Everyone seemed to treat them as a unit, but they were partners. They worked together. Of course they spent a lot of time together, but it wasn’t like they shared a room — although her own roommates, three world-weary women who Jyn had thought were above such nonsense, seemed continually surprised by her presence in her own damn bed, every single night cycle that she was on base.

But it seemed like, with little else for much of the flagship to do at the moment, gossip was everyone’s favorite pastime, and there was only so much to say about Han Solo and the princess before things drifted back around to the “heroes of Rogue One”.

At first, when it had still been amusing, she had conscripted Bodhi into spreading fake rumors about them, but they had both quickly discovered that there was essentially nothing that the stir-crazy base wouldn’t accept about Jyn and Cassian’s relationship, including but not limited to:

They had gotten it on in the shuttle on the way to Scarif

They had gotten it on at Yavin IV before leaving for Scarif

They had gotten it on at Scarif, in the citadel

Jyn was secretly pregnant with his child (she had thought that one would taper off, but it instead morphed into “well, she clearly wasn’t before, but I bet she is now”)

They had shared a bed in the medical frigate after Scarif (okay, that one actually was true, but it had just been because the beds were limited and the nightmares were awful, and nothing had happened but sleep)

They were secretly married

Some of it, she felt, was at least reasonable, but mostly it seemed like the Rebellion had, collectively, decided to live out their favorite holodramas vicariously through Jyn and Cassian. It wouldn’t have been so bad, if it had at least been spread around some — but no, nobody shared the same stories about Han and Leia, or Luke and Leia, or Han and Luke, or Baze and Chirrut —

(Okay, fair enough, Chirrut would gleefully answer yes to literally any question asked about his and Baze’s relationship, up to and including whether or not the two of them had formally adopted Jyn. Baze never, ever either confirmed or denied Chirrut’s answers, which was as good as admitting that he found them amusing.)

Nobody ever just accepted the truth, which was simply that they were partners who had a totally platonic relationship.

Entirely platonic relationship. No feelings of attraction or sexual tension on either side.

Which was good, because their current situation would be embarrassing as hell otherwise.

This stupid little moon didn’t even have a name, but it did have an Imperial presence, which had struck everyone as odd — it was barely more than a stop-off with some refueling stations, the sort of place where people end up when they’re just barely not hitting rock bottom, not a place any sane sentient would bother going to. So why had the Empire built a factory here?

Jyn’s theory, which Cassian had agreed was plausible, was that they’d put a refinery here because nobody ever came here of their own volition, and the only inhabitants were people who had to keep their heads down. Nobody was likely to stumble across it by accident, and there were no rebel or Partisan cells to muck up the works. It had made sense, but it had also meant that whatever they were making or refining here was probably something important that the Alliance needed to know about.

As it happened, in parts of the moon that were entirely uninhabited for reasons that had become very suddenly clear, there was a chemical compound in the dust that could be used as a caustic agent, when collected and purified, and there were any number of reasons that the Empire would want a chemical that would strip hydrogen off of pure water.

The downside to this was that if any of the dust got on any part of a human’s (and, presumably, most other sentients’) exposed skin, it would… be very bad, and very gross. It also tended to eat through clothing, but — in a design choice that now made total sense — not the stone from which all of the structures on the moon had been built.

(It had struck Jyn as odd that, even on a featureless rock orbiting a dull-gray gas giant, there were no windows on anything, and everything was made from the same rust-colored stone, except the durasteel refinery and ships.)

Naturally, they had gotten caught by a dust storm.

Naturally, their outerwear had been contaminated, meaning that their underwear would, very rapidly if left alone, also become contaminated, and Jyn didn’t even want to think about that scenario. They’d been thankfully close to an old refueling station that had been abandoned, and so hadn’t spent very long in the dust, but getting rid of their outermost layers had been immediately necessary.

At first, it hadn’t bothered her — because the both of them had been so focused on get it off get it off get it off that it had not occurred to Jyn, at least, and probably Cassian as well, that they would be stuck in this little stone building until the dust storm passed, with no or very few clothes.

Ultimately, they’d managed to get to safety quickly enough, and get the contaminated clothing off quickly enough, that they were left in underwear and undershirts, very carefully not looking at each other.

At least, she told herself, it wasn’t cold, and they weren’t anything more than sensible friends and partners acting pragmatically in a situation that had taken both of them off-guard.

(He wore boxer-briefs. Jyn had not, as such, needed this information, but now that she had it, it wouldn’t leave her brain. She had also made the mistake of looking at him, and catching a glimpse of… well, nothing, exactly, except a… well, a bulge, and that also would not leave her brain.)

“So, we’re leaving this out of the mission report, right?” she said in a low voice, and he made a noise of agreement. She glanced at him — he was sitting, (bare) elbows on his (bare) knees, with his forehead resting in one hand — and then quickly back away, determinedly ignoring the heat rising up the back of her neck.

In the back of her mind, she considered what would this be like if they had been a little slower, and he’d had to take off his shirt and maybe —

She coughed, and ran a hand over her face.

Even though he probably didn’t know anything more about it than she did, she still asked, “How long do these storms last?” with some desperation, and her voice came out at an embarrassingly-high pitch. She was glad he wasn’t looking at her, and couldn’t see her cringe at herself.

“The storm came on quickly,” he replied, and she told herself that she was imagining the strain in his voice. “The atmosphere is… thick, and cycles rapidly. It shouldn’t last too long.”

That was… a comfort.

(He was wearing an athletic undershirt, not a tee like she’d sort of expected, and so part of his chest was exposed, and —)

She stifled another cough.

“Good,” she choked, and vaguely wished for the ground to swallow her whole.

He probably wasn’t having the same trouble she was. He was more professional than she was, and he’d kept his eyes respectfully down the whole time. He was probably just embarrassed at being caught by the storm in the first place.

Jyn, on the other hand, was struggling.

It didn’t help that there was nothing to do in this Force-forsaken little hut except dwell on the fact that her (totally platonic) partner was half-naked ten feet away from her. She didn’t even have a pack of cards with which to play sab-- solitaire, not sabacc, just… something alone and engrossing that she could look at and occupy her mind with.

(The only thing worse than the awkward silence would have been to be playing a game opposite him and his… well, opposite him.)

She closed her eyes, and tried to summon any of Chirrut’s lessons on meditation. They’d been intended to help her center herself and channel her energy more efficiently (whatever that meant), but her concern right now was dousing the heat that rose in her belly every time her brain offered up that stupid image of his —

(It had just… been a while. That was all this was. Just… plain old sexual frustration, and hey, Cassian was a good-looking guy, there was nothing wrong with finding his half-naked body easy on the eyes. It didn’t mean anything. It didn’t.)

There were few things she could think of that would better dampen her stupid imagination than the memory of Chirrut’s guided meditation, but it wasn’t really helping.

Right, okay.

Time to get drastic.

Jabba the Hutt. Picture the gummy eyes, and the slug-shape, and the tongue, and the rubbery texture of his flesh, and the slime, and the…

It worked, right up until she opened her eyes again and saw that Cassian had been running his hand through his hair, and now it was all mussed and messy like he’d been in bed, and —

Shit.

Dammit.

Okay.

That weird noise Jabba made when he moved, the guttural grunting — ugh, gross, just picture that happening in a bedroom, she wanted to vomit — the unwashed and vaguely-cheesy smell he gave off, that indulgent laugh like the worst slimy uncle imaginable. The casual cruelty, the greed. The way he kept attractive female slaves, forced them to dance for his amusement.

She let out a long, slow breath, and decided not to open her eyes again.

(Cassian could not stop seeing her legs. Even with his eyes closed and his head bowed, trying to mentally catalogue every single weapon he’d ever heard of just to spare his dignity, all he could see were long legs and the shape of her body in a skintight undershirt.

He wanted to die.)

It took three hours of horrid silence and even more horrid mental images, but finally, the dust storm passed, and shortly after, the locals’ droids — apparently programmed for immediate response in this situation, which made sense in retrospect — had swept the ground clean of the dust, so it was safe to walk outside again, even in sock-feet like Jyn and Cassian were.

Once back on their ship, they were able to put on spare sets of clothing — although at this point, Jyn would have made a toga out of a blanket, anything would do, just to not see this much of him anymore — and, still uncomfortably silent, get out of atmo.

The entire trip back was spent in the same awkward silence, carefully avoiding each other’s eyes and watching hyperspace pass by as though it was deeply fascinating. Luckily, they arrived back on the flagship halfway through the night cycle, and were able to return to their respective rooms without having to be seen, a) wearing different clothes than they’d left in, or b) desperately keeping a ten-foot space between them.

(Also, the showers were empty, which was good for Jyn to, ahem, work some things out.)

Cassian wrote and submitted the report, and Jyn signed off on it — no mention of the agonizing three hours spent in a stone hell-room, thank the Force — and between the report being finished and the, ah, showers, she figured that that was that.

Until the rumor mill started up again.

Someone — she wasn’t sure who, but was, on principle, going to blame Han Solo — had read between the lines of the mission report, and started asking, so, like, did they actually get caught in one of these dust storms? Or else the imagination-zeitgeist of the Rebellion had just decided that it would be great if that was the case.

And Jyn could not quite play it off like she had all the other rumors. Usually, she would roll her eyes and stalk off, but she found herself desperately denying them this time, even as every cell in her brain was screaming shut up shut up shut up!

As such, she had not… exactly… convinced anyone, even herself.

They were friends, good friends, the sort that she’d never really had before, and she wasn’t supposed to be feeling this… attraction to him. Wasn’t supposed to be imagining running her hands through his hair or his hips bucking against hers or waking up cradled in his arms or —

The snickers were almost as bad as the knowing glances, but not half as bad as the clawing discomfort that rose in her every time they were in the same room. She tried to tell herself that it wasn’t obvious to anyone else, that it was just her own heightened awareness, but Chirrut disabused her of that happy notion a few days after they got back:

“If your intention is to convince everyone that you and the Captain are not together,” he said lightly, voice carefully plucked clean of amusement, “you are not succeeding.”

“We aren’t,” she snapped, and his expression didn’t change.

“Of course not,” he replied. She watched him carefully, waiting for the other shoe to drop, which it did only moments later. “Yet.”

“We are friends,” she said through clenched teeth, and he smiled.

“Ah, I recall that tone of voice,” he sighed fondly. “Baze said the same words, in the same tone, many times in our youth.”

She had no adequate response to that, so she’d settled for stalking off, telling herself that she wasn’t skulking away like a dog with its tail between its legs, that she was a dignified adult who was walking away for good reasons, to do a better thing somewhere else.

Still, she could avoid him, more or less — or at least keep to only interacting with him in public — until the next mission they were sent on, which was only a week after returning from the one she was now thinking of as the hell-mission.

And they had not actually spoken to each other since the… situation.

Which, in retrospect, was a huge mistake.

None of it had been dealt with, it had only been given time to fester and linger in (at least) Jyn’s brain, and the more she thought of it — and the more she heard and remembered the rumors — the more tangled up her stomach got at the thought of being alone with him again, even as she really wanted to be alone with him again.

She was a big enough person to admit to herself that she was attracted to him. That was… not strange, even for platonic comrades in a time of war; in fact, she had it on good authority that no less than the princess herself had a crush on him, which she very definitely found amusing and which did not in any way inspire any kind of possessive or jealous feelings in her, because it didn’t.

Jyn had decided that avoidance was the solution, which she was now regretting, but committed to nonetheless. If she just... focused on the mission at hand, got through it, eventually things would just sort of... stop being this way, right? Her general philosophy with interpersonal issues was to ignore them until they went away, and this was no different.

It worked beautifully until they were all alone in hyperspace again and her thoughts… drifted.

He seemed agitated, eyes locked on the controls even though there was nothing new or unexpected there; even when he looked up, he wouldn’t look at her. He also seemed tense, shoulders slightly hunched, jaw clenched. The air between them was thick and heavy like cotton, almost unbreathable, and — Force be with her — they would be in hyperspace for eighteen standard hours.

There was no way they could do this. It had been bad enough when she had other things to do and focus on, but eighteen hours alone in hyperspace like this was going to drive her absolutely insane.

“All right, something has to give,” she snapped finally, and he half-glanced at her, as though afraid to actually look her in the face.

“Oh?” he replied, in a hoarsely-neutral tone, and didn’t elaborate. Of course, the bloody spy wasn’t going to give any ground on this. Half of what he did to get information was let other people fill in the blanks, he never offered up anything unless he had to (or, she recalled, very angry).

“Yeah,” she said, standing up and stalking away from the cockpit, to put some space between them so maybe she could breathe. It didn’t help. His presence still filled the room. “This is all… we’re being stupid, aren’t we?”

By the time she turned back to face him, he was standing, leaning against the armrest of the pilot’s chair, expression neutral. “Define stupid,” he said finally, and she growled in frustration.

“We’re partners,” she snapped. “We have to work together, we can’t be sitting here, all…” no adequate word would come to her, so she finished, a bit lamely, and with a shrug, “stupid. About this.”

Cassian blinked, opened his mouth to says something, then closed it again and ran a hand over his face. “That… did not answer my question,” he said, in a strained voice.

“You know good and damn well what I mean,” she snarled, the tension and rising embarrassment making her angry. He seemed to be biting his tongue, now looking away.

“This is about the last mission,” he said, with no question. “The dust storm.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, the dust storm,” she replied, annoyed. “You know, when we had to get almost naked and sit with each other for hours. And everybody’s talking about it back on the flagship. I bet that’s why Mothma sent us on this mission,” she added, and although she hadn’t thought of it before the words had been coming out of her mouth, they suddenly made a disturbing amount of sense. It didn’t have to be them, and they didn’t have to do it alone. But, oh, for whatever reason, Command thought it was best to send Jyn and Cassian, and only Jyn and Cassian, and (like the eager idiot she was) she had not questioned it.

Finally, there was a crack in his armor — rising color in his face, eyes now directed upward.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” he admitted, after a long and uncomfortable moment.

If she was being honest, she wasn’t sure of that, herself. That she wasn’t the only one about to burn up from the inside-out with sexual frustration? That he’d been checking her out the same way she’d been checking him out? That she was being stupid and they were just platonic partners, obviously?

No — if that had been the case, if they were really both just platonic friends, he would have been genuinely confused by this conversation, not hedging his bets and holding back and refusing to show any emotion.

If he hadn’t been at least sort of thinking about it, he would have been a totally different kind of uncomfortable, squirming and trying to escape the situation, embarrassed and uneasy. It wouldn’t be the same kind of tension.

Maybe it was just her whimpering libido that was telling her that, but it made sense.

“I want the truth,” she said slowly, taking a step closer. He didn’t look at her.

“What do you want the truth to be?” he countered, still dangerously neutral, still watching the ceiling like it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. Of course he still wouldn’t give any information.

Cassian had survived all his years in Intelligence by not giving. Jyn was gonna have to take this jump, and hope that he’d meet her halfway once he saw for sure where she was going.

It took a moment to steel up her resolve, which she spent by walking up to him with every ounce of purpose and anger she could muster. He still wouldn’t look at her, eyes fixed on the ceiling, jaw clenched, whole body vibrating with tension.

She took a deep breath, and the words she had rehearsed — something self-assured, like I want to at least give them something real to gossip about, I want to touch you, I want you to touch me — died on her lips.

Instead, what came out was a slightly-wavering, much-quieter-than-intended, “That you want me.”

Abruptly, his eyes were locked on hers, neutral expression becoming calculating, guarded. Searching for a lie, maybe, or any indication that she was joking.

He didn’t respond, or at least not in the amount of time that she was willing to wait (which was… not much).

Closing her eyes (so she didn’t have to see anything in his face she might not want to), she leaned up and pressed her lips to his.

It was… not exactly the romantic moment she had hoped for. He was still frozen, all that tension stretched thin between them, rigid and unmoving, and -- shit. Shit.

Fuck.

She started to pull back, but then the tension snapped and he responded, moving in, hand catching the back of her neck and pulling her back to him; she was taken a little off-guard, and had to catch herself against his chest, whole body pressed against his as her arms snaked around his neck and his other arm wrapped around her waist.

Cassian stumbled against the pilot’s seat, but didn’t break the kiss until she pushed him down into it and, in the same motion, straddled his hips. He looked… a little dazed, pupils dilated, face flushed. She doubted she looked any better (or, since he actually looked pretty fucking good like this, from this angle, any worse).

“Like I said,” she breathed, with more composure than she felt, “we’re being stupid.”

His lips curved into a smile, and he murmured, “I guess so,” before pulling her back into another searing kiss.

(coda—

“So,” Han said, drawing out the syllable suggestively, “what I’m hearing is, the trick is to go to an awful moon with murderous dust-storms.”

“I think Leia would just let you die,” Jyn replied blandly, without looking up from the datapad where she was trying to write a coherent report that left out all the details nobody else actually needed to know, and Han appeared to think about it for a moment, then scowled.

“Who said anything about Leia?” he grumbled. “I could’ve been talking about… Amilyn. Or, hell, Luke. Or —”

Jyn sorted and walked away, leaving him still spluttering and coming up with increasingly-ridiculous names.)

#rebelcaptain #fanfiction; mine #i feel really bad now!#i had already written it and when i started to post it i looked at that post and went 'oh'#also there is a very big part of me that's just like 'haha yeah hers is gonna be way better than mine like. not even close.'#but i had fun writing it?#so....... i hope you like it?

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thedappleddragon · 4 years ago

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last night I dreamed that I was an archeologist tortoise and I was looking at dozens of “human” skeletons in Buckingham palace that was also my backyard. the skeletons all looked like combo human and turtle because the whole torso looked basically like the first google image result for sea turtle skeleton. then my sister woke me up, giving me a comforter and telling me my mom need help with some things. cleaned up around the living room and did some laundry and boiled some eggs and made meatloaf and swept the floor. the meatloaf turned out surprisingly good, idk what I did differently. I evemtually went back to my room and tried to remember what I wanted to do today. last night as I was falling asleep I told myself that I was gonna clear off my desk so I could finally use it, so I moved some stuff around and set up my laptop. I havent been able to sit at a real actual desk in SO LONG and its SO NICE to have just like a space where I can sit down and work and have a chair that will support my back instead of sitting cross legged on my bed or laying down while doing stuff on my laptop. it almost makes me feel productive even I'm just playing the sims. I feel especially cool when im just typing out whatever bullshit because it makes me feel like im at an office job typing up ~important documents~ :) idk man I think quarantine has changed me lmao. if im getting this many emotions from just being able to sit down at a desk and do ANYTHING idk how im gonna handle collage. I keep calling whetever im doing (playing the sims, scrolling through Tumblr, typing up this summary of the day) work because it just. feels nice sitting at a desk and typing. even if it’s dumb bullshit!! idk how to describe it I just feel amazing. it makes me feel like im writing a paper with all the horrible parts like research and thinking. the sound of typing on my MacBook makes me feel like im in school again, but without the horrible stressful parts. idk mn I know I've been going on about this desk and stuff for too long and im gonna hate it if I eventually read back through these daily logs but I just feel so nice. ill change topics anyway. I hung up my calendar again! I literally didn't have any open wall space aside from maybe the wall behind my bed but why the hell would I put a calendar where I can't see it. instead its kind of hanging above my closet. I pinned it to the wooden board in the “doorway” (idk what other word to use) where there would normally be sliding doors that open and shut if they hadn't been taken off YEARS ago. I also played a lot of the sims 4, juggling aspirations for 5 sims. I quit because I got frustrated that all my sims are dumb and the ai Is buggy and doesn't let me do what I want them to do. I also plopped in a house on my family’s old lot and spent some time adjusting the colors and the trees and adding those paper craft cieling things that can either have stars or leaves or snowflakes that came in the free winter holiday stuff pack and holy shit as soon as I found those I think they became my new favorite decoration item. I threw them everywhere but eventually took down most of them, leaving some leaf ones in the bedroom. I was gonna move in a family of a bunch of young adults and children to help with the first kid’s serial romantic aspiration and one of the twin’s social butterfly aspiration, but I ended up not doing that in favor of just decorating more and playing with the family some more. one thing I realized while playing is that there are fucking MICE in my CIELING. well not really in the cieling, in the attic, but I can hear them chewing on shit and its sucks. I would turn on a fan to drown out the noise but my room is fucking FREEZING. I threw the blanket back over my window hoping that it would keep heat from escaping but I don't think that really did anything. so after freezing my ass off I got fed up and put on fluffy socks under normal socks, wore my owl onesie as pants over my shorts, put on my comfy (oversized hoodie), and threw a fluffy blanket over my shoulders. thankfully I was pretty cozy after that, but as I type this after taking off the cosy and blanket, I can feel my toes getting cold again. damnit. ANYWAY after quitting the sims for the night I ate some salad and got a heart shaped crouton :) and I scrolled through Tumblr for a bit. then I decided to finally work on the paws my friend wanted. but I couldn't find the pattern so I instead worked on the brown paws instead. I could only work on them so much, since I still have to finish the lining before I can do much else. I attached the backs of the fingers to the back of the hand. I didnt get much down but what matters is that I did SOMETHING. I'm gonna keep an eye out for that pattern that I need, and if I cant find it, I'll just make a new pattern. tbh I think thad’s be the better way to go anyway since I wouldn't have to figure out how the fuck the old one goes together and I can also have a pattern that perfectly fits the foam underneath. also tbh i have mixed feeling about the white paws my friend wants. I like how dextrous they are and how easily you can emote and move your fingers, but I dont like how ovular I made the paw pads and the hints of black thread peaking out where I sewed the pads from the back. I WOULD just remake them with the free curl works pattern im using for the brown paws but I figure I might as well finish this pair since there’s already one done and the foam interior is already made. whatever. I dont wanna think about it too much. I also dont like the head that goes with the paws, it was a fish job in comparison to my first head and I kinda hate it. but I think I'll eventually get some longer fur for the neck and a hair poof and cheeks (maybe) and do a little refurbishing and give it to my friend if she ever wants it, since it matches the paws and all. I have lots of plans for my 2 WIP heads but not all the materials/motivation. plus I just need to let the ideas stir before I do unything, making sure they’re goof before I act on them. I'm exited that I can shave down fur relativey easily and evenly without an electric dog shaver, which opens up a lot of opportunities. anyway as I was working on the brown paws I had TAZ on in the background and it still baffles me a little bit how different griffin and Matt mercer operate as dms like holy shit. its really funny. and it got me thinking about how I wouldn't mind dming for my friend group if he chance ever arose. I DO have the forgotten realms campaign setting book. I haven't actually looked at it but I assume it has a few pre-built quests and plot lines n stuff in it. I'll probably take a better look at in the morning when it’s not 1:40 am. dang now I'm thinking about my Minecraft dnd idea again. I think the real problem keeping me from being a dm is that I CANNOT keep a straight face when doing improv/roleplaying, so I dont know how well I could hold together a world for them to play in. I would love to give it a try tho. not with the Minecraft idea at the same time, fuck no. I would need to do like. a classic vanilla dnd experience the first time, maybe even using our tiefling family characters since I'm at least a little familiar with them. can you dm and also play your own character? is that fair? is that a think you can do? I think that could be fun but also hard to juggle and also maybe kinda suck because you’d already know all the answers to all the puzzles. meh. actually now I kind of really want to look through thet book tonight instead of in the morning. also I mentioned overnight oats a few days ago I think, and the first morning it was kinda gross, the second time I ate it was still a little gross texture wise, but I finished it off tonight and it was pretty good. maybe next time I'll try it without the banana and a little less milk and maybe slice up an apple into little cubes for texture. hell yeah peanut butter apple cinnamon brown sugar overnight oats. that sound pretty dang good actually. I'll try that some time, but I dont think I can right now because I dont think we have any apples in the house. phooey. I should also probably put this oatmeal cp in the sink before it becomes impossible to clean. holy shit how long have I been writing? SEE THE DESK MAKES ME JUST WANNA KEEP WRITING AND WRITING FOREVER I FEEL SO PRODUCTIVE EVEN IF IM NOT DOING ANYTHING PRODUCTIVE!! I love just typing and typing forever its so soothing just hearing the tapping of the keyboard and getting my thought out without actually having to think that hard about it. goddamn im never gonna read back through this this is a nightmare lmao. no paragraph breaks no capitalization no nothin. I dont even wanna stop typing even though my arm is starting to hurt a little but from leaning the edge of the desk. now im thinking about the movie soul again and the cat as it rides on the escalator to the great beyond and how that dude in the band was the main characters student and how that scene with the girl trying to quit music and then immediately changed her mind didnt make any sense. like what the hell I dont understand that scene at all. also thinking about the transition where he’s like “ok repeat after me” as he’s in the cat and the camera goes over the mom’s shoulder and it’s just him talking, I like how they did that instead of doing dialouge between him and the cat. idk man. I think maybe I should stop typing now since my body is starting to hurt. sorry for putting this H U G E wall of text on your dash but I just like typing out my thoughts :) goodnight!

edit: OH I forgot to talk about something else!! last night I was thinking about valentines day and how cute it would be to have a little overall dress in the pattern on one of my childhood blankets, its like a light pink with white hearts on it so I looked up some fabrics and none of them were the right pattern. I also looked up a sewing pattern that I think would look nice and its on sale right now! I totally want to try and make it, but fabric is expensive so I think I might look at dollar tree for fleece baby blankets because I know they have them there, I bought a few a while ago for some plush sewing projects. they’re decently sized so I think I could do it.idk how many I would need to buy tho. or I might go to goodwill and look for a pink sheet? I have a thin pink blanket that could theoretically work but I want to use a planet im not attached to. or even just find a few big shirts in the same shade of pink? then I could maybe line it with something. I have red purple and white satin but that’s literally the worst fuckin fabric in the world to work with. my first experience with sewing was trying to make plushies out of satin and holy hell idk how I did it. anyway even though I literally never wear dresses I think it would be a fun project to try and make myself a cute little valentines dress. :) I could even give myself POCKETS >:)))

#thanks for coming to my ted talk #long post #I think maybe I should tag my daily shit with something like 2021 journal? idk im lazy so we'll see #January 2021 daily #2021 daily

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v-a-l-v-e · 7 years ago

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Baking With 2p Germany and 2p Italy

I started looking at cake and I got really hungry. This was the outcome. Sorry, it’s not my best work. :P))

“Sugar?”

“Check.”

“Flour?”

“Check.”

“Eggs?”

“… Shit, wait, where are the eggs…” Siegfried started to scavenge through the mountain of cooking supplies, “I was sure I picked up eggs this morning…”

Luciano sighed and put an x over eggs on the list, “Siegfried, you forget milk last time too! If you want me to teach you how to cook you have to stop being an idiot!!”

“W-Well,” Siegfried defended, “eggs aren’t that important! We can still do it without eggs, right? It’ll still taste good.”

“You can’t bake a goddamn cake without eggs!” Luciano pouted and pulled himself up onto the kitchen island. He ran a hand through his hair, “You idiot… flour and eggs are what make the texture and taste amazing! But they need to be balanced; there can’t be more than the other.” Luciano looked up ‘egg replacements’ on his phone. Siegfried stood behind Luciano, looking over his shoulder at the small screen. “… I can feel you breathing on my neck like a dog. Stop.” Luciano grumbled.

Siegfried laughed but didn’t move, “Oh~ we can just use mashed bananas, right? I bet that’d make it taste good.”

“All you think about is taste, but that’s not the most important thing, fool…” Luciano jumped down from the island, “Now get to it, Siegfried! If I’m going to teach you how to be an amazing baker like me, you have to do everything I say, understand!?”

“Yes, sir!” Luciano gave Siegfried most of the hardy jobs such as stirring or reaching for materials in high cabinets. Luciano, on the other hand, kept him far away from delicate jobs such as pouring measurements. Siegfried had the tendency to bump into things and knocked over the flour onto the floor, but luckily there was still some left in the bag.

They poured the batter in two separate square pans and waited till it was done. Luciano allowed Siegfried to decorate one of the cakes with icing and sprinkles… You can imagine how it turned out… Siegfried’s cake looked like Christmas threw up on it then left it on the side of the road. Luciano’s, on the other hand, was simple and beautiful.

“You don’t need that much icing, you know…” Luciano mumbled, licking off a smudge of icing on his finger, “It’s probably gross now.”

“I bet it’s not!” Siegfried served Luciano a piece of the disaster cake, “Just try it, please?” Luciano forked up a piece of the disaster cake and tried it. He didn’t say anything, simply judging the quality. “Good, isn’t it?” Luciano huffed and sourly looked away from Siegfried.

“Whatever…”

#2p gerita #2p italy #2p north italy #2p germany #2p #2ps #2p hetalia #2ptalia #aph #hetalia #Luciano the tsundere #luciano vargas #siegfried beilschmidt #2pitaly x 2pgermany

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ellebeebee · 8 years ago

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Seachange

Part Five/Nine

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four

Liam has impulse control problems, we know this. He thinks it might be a deal breaker (yet somehow it still doesn’t deter him??)-- spoiler: it’s not.

4866 words, Liam x f!Ryder, teen rating

AO3

It’s not like he went out of his way to put himself in danger.

Okay, maybe there’s a bit of untruth in that statement, but look. He couldn’t help being ‘on’ all the time. He’d tried to switch to ‘off’ before; after all the parent-teacher meetings, the lectures, the hospital visits. The girlfriends that got fed up with his bull.

He didn’t mean to scare people. If he’s being honest, sometimes it surprised him when others were concerned about his well-being, when they got angry on account of it. It’s not exactly the caring that surprised him-- more like, oh, shit, I should have considered that first. But it was hard to think first when a clear goal sat in front of him, and the direct, simplest route was totally possible. It just happened that most of the time that direct route was the nutty one. The one most likely to put him in a cast or break a rib.

And the other times? The ones that weren’t, y’know, life-and-death situations?

Well. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, and a laugh was a helluva gain in his opinion.

And having a guy like Jaal around? Damn, if they don’t have some fun on this constant world-shattering hellride, well, they’d all go bonkers, right? Or Liam would, anyway. Jaal was the same. Yeah, at first the guy was trying to be all tough and suspicious or whatever, but they all warmed his little angaran heart. Not a small part of which was on account of Liam, of course. Duh.

So they had fun. Risked life and limb. Whatever. So sue them.

“So, that is ‘dextro’ food,” Jaal stated, staring into the contents of the fridge. Liam peeked over his shoulder.

“Yeah, that’s Vetra’s stash,” he agreed.

“And turians and quarians are the only dextros from the Milky Way,” Jaal reiterated.

“Yeah. I mean, as far as I know?”

“And ‘levos’ cannot consume the same food? Does this also extend to production?” Jaal mused, continuing to stare intently at the innocuous sealed tub of food. Chilled air began to permeate the rest of the galley.

“Umm,” Liam hummed. “I don’t really know? Drack and Mira use the same pots don’t they? I think they do something when they switch? Uhh.”

“I mean, with regards to mass production. Are there separate ‘dextro’ and ‘levo’ factories?”

“Okay, that one’s filed under generalist-specialist info,” Liam quipped, clapping the angara’s shoulder.

They’d come to recognize that some questions during all this cross-species cultural exchange were just beyond a single individual’s experience. That stuff they called ‘generalist-specialist.’ Or: I have no fucking clue and don’t really have an inclination to find out.

“Hmm,” Jaal just mused.

They kept staring into the fridge. For whatever reason.

Liam cleared his throat. “Are you daring me to taste it?”

Jaal finally glanced at him and frowned. “I never said--”

“‘Cause if you’re daring me, and you think I’m not gonna do it, you clearly don’t know me well enough yet.”

Jaal looked at Liam, and his silly grin. And he looked back at the tub of dextro food. And he looked back at Liam.

“That is extremely stupid,” Jaal stated. “Aren’t you afraid one day Lexi will just stop treating you?”

“So what you’re telling me,” Liam said, nudging the angara out of the way, “is that you’ll let me wear the rofjinn for a whole day if I do this?”

“What? No!”

“Deal!”

And even though he made his disgruntled remarks about the human’s intelligence, Jaal (with not a small amount of curious light in his large blue eyes) watched Liam pull the tub out and drop it loudly on the counter. He started pulling out little individual containers full of things he half knew the names of, half had no idea how could even be digestible. That was when Mira stepped through the hatchway.

She stopped in her tracks, and Liam froze with a large morsel of a brownish dextro something halfway to his face.

“What are you doing?” the Pathfinder asked, brow lowering.

Liam wasn’t sure what exactly overtook him at that moment. It was like just the sight of her turned on that particular switch that was already always set on a hair trigger with him. Oh God. Shit shit. It was fucking stupid, but there she was: cute as fuck, and looking at him, and yes! Give! Me! Your! Attention! Mira! Ryder!

Liam jammed his whole damned mouth with that chunk of dextro-whatever.

And it didn’t taste bad. Sorta pudding-like texture, which wasn’t exactly great cold, but it had a brown gravy-like thing going on. And. Like a weird beer-y, fermented, fatty pork thing? It wasn’t terrible at all.

“Oh my god,” Mira gaped. “Liam, don’t swallow that--”

And really, it wasn’t funny. It wasn’t funny at all. But he had an ultra intense impulse to laugh at the face she was making, all horrified and open-mouthed and stuff. But he didn’t laugh. Oh no. That might actually be funny-- him laughing and the disgusting result with a mouthful of food. But no, not Liam Kosta. He’s never satisfied with just the straight gross-out joke.

Liam chewed for a good moment (“Stop, seriously!”) and he swallowed.

All the while staring her down.

Jaal made a sound half-way between exasperation and a laugh. “That was very stupid.”

Mira slapped her hands to her face, probably struggling with the exact wording for her incoming outburst. Then she lowered her hands, and her face wasn’t the mask of anger and irritation he was expecting. She stepped forward, grabbed him by the wrist, and tugged him out the galley hatchway.

“C’mon,” she sighed.

“And, no, you still can’t wear the rofjinn!”

And in the short walk down the hall to med bay, Liam was already getting short of breath, his throat tightening painfully. Mira’s hand was firm on him, and he couldn’t help staring at her expression. There weren’t storms in her eyes. No furious squall, but a dark indrawn… something?

It was hard to think with his entire mouth on fire, though.

Lexi took one look at them from her desk, sighed, and made a straight beeline for her supply cabinet.

“I take it all that swelling is an allergic reaction?” she said dryly, facing a wall of little bottles and medical things.

“He got into some of Vetra’s food,” Mira replied. They were talking about him as if he were some kind of dog. She kind of pushed Liam into an examination table, which he hopped on easily.

His feet swung, and he was reminded of being a little kid. Mum dragging him to the doctor’s and holding his hand, promising a lolly if he would just sit still for one goddamed minute.

Mira didn’t exactly hold his hand, but she did keep close to his side with her fingers on his forearm. His head was starting to swim. Yet he could still distinguish the knit in her brow. He wanted to poke it.

While he was busy staring at Mira’s face and fantasizing about poking it, Lexi poked him in the thigh with a very sharp needle.

“Oww!” Liam tried to complain, but he mostly brayed like a moose.

And the fingers laid lightly on his forearm (those thin fingers with the trigger callouses) tightened. They didn’t grip or dig in, a painful and visceral reaction, but just momentarily closed around him. Held onto him. As if afraid of what would happen otherwise. It lasted only a millisecond, and she let go, resettling into her light brush across his skin.

What was that about?

He swiveled to look at her, but Lexi pushed him down into the bed, giving him her standard scolding for the umpteenth time. She threatened to tie him down if he wouldn’t stay put while the injection did its work, and plied him with some mystery white tablet. Mira let go of him at this point, which made the absence of her hand burn. Pathfinder duties or something. He caught a last glimpse of her, glancing back at him, as she exited the med bay.

He turned to see Lexi giving him a very pointed, very knowing look.

“Wha?” he asked, tongue thick and useless.

“I’m trying to decide if you’re trying too hard or if you aren’t trying nearly hard enough,” she informed him sharply.

He sighed, which caused him to choke sharply on shallow breaths. Fully exerted, he lay back limply on the examination bed and tried to ignore Lexi’s judgment.

She doesn’t wear the name ‘Ryder’ for nothing.

It would surprise anyone that had only met her off the field, that had never seen her work (her being a bit of a mess out of her armor-- well. In civvies, not-- uh, you know.) But she knew her tactics, had incredibly agile ‘battlefield intelligence,’ and he’d once watched her clean up an entire kett squad at two thousand meters.

Plus there was SAM, so in general the Tempest’s squad felt pretty comfortable with letting her make the calls in the field (giving allowance for occasional ribbing).

And that was exactly why Liam should not have broken formation. He’d gotten his though. Served him right, he guessed.

He recovered from the self-poisoning pretty quickly. Spent the night in med bay fiddling his thumbs and vegging out to a series of vids on his omni-tool, then bound out the next morning with a sincere promise to take the little bottle of tablets Lexi gave him as instructed.

They were running ops on Kadara, some of it dodgy stuff like sifting through the bullshit between the Exiles and their top assholes, trying to find the kernels of truth through all the-- you know-- shit. Once it was clear he was no longer slurring around a swollen, foot-sized tongue, Ryder pulled him and Peebee out for the final push to activate the next vault. They made good time in the Nomad, mostly avoiding trouble when they could (which was always Mira’s style, frankly) until they encountered a gang of trumped up bandits who thought a roadblock and a few pistols entitled them to your shit.

Should have been a quick clean-up, but it turned out that this particular gang had a skilled engineer with them, probably ex-infrastructure or something from the Nexus. Anyway, this jerkoff techie kept alternately throwing these annoyingly small and agile drones at them and then handing off portable turrets to his assfaced friends so that they could place them somewhere incredibly inconvenient for the Pathfinder’s squad. And, cherry-on-top, this engineer was hunkered down behind the roadblock, completely inaccessible to their bullets.

They could turn around, try another way. But they were already on a delayed schedule for their mission to board the Archon’s ship. And every minute, every day wasted made it more and more likely that something would go wrong, a leak would weasel its way over to the enemy.

Liam watched all this go through Mira’s eyes as they continued to trade fire with these two-bit fleabags.

She made an angry, frustrated grunt over the comm.

“This is a freaking waste of time!” she yelled.

“Yeah, no shit!” Peebee answered, blue force thrown from her fingers to pluck up a raider.

Mira went quiet for a moment, fiddling with something on her rifle. With an oomph, she slid away from her position against the cover of the Nomad. Liam was too busy taking potshots to watch what she was doing.

“I’m going up the ridge under cloak; flank ‘em and take out that engineer,” she announced. “Maintain this position.”

“Roger,” Peebee called, relief flooding her voice.

“Make it hurt,” Liam added.

She didn’t say anything, and he didn’t see her leave the immediate area. Kind of the point. He had no reason to worry; this was exactly her kind of thing, the maneuver she honestly liked to use the most. And it was routine. There really, absolutely, was no reason to get antsy or start getting smart ideas.

And yet.

This was Liam Kosta.

He and Peebee spent a few moments working on a real cockroach of a turret that seemed made of, like, magical phlebotinum or some shit. Until Liam got kind of sick of it and had A Very Bright Idea. Really, all he needed was a beer to tell Peebee to hold.

“You think she’s on the ridge yet?” he yelled.

“What?” the asari answered distractedly.

“You think she’s on the ridge-- Nevermind. You got this for a minute?”

He didn’t wait for a reply. Instead, Liam Kosta, ultragrade genius, pulled out two fistfuls of grenades, set off all of them, and hurled the bundle of carnage and mayhem at the raiders. And he bullrushed through the resultant upwaft of scree, debris, and dust, towards a set of crags on the other end of the shallow valley they were entrenched in. He ignored the outraged protests Peebee shrilled at him and hoofed it as fast as he could.

“Liam!” Mira’s voice rang over the comm. “What the hell are you--”

“Distraction!” he yelled back. “Or flanking! All of the above!”

Except it turned out that his plan b was not the Very Bright Idea his brain had told him it was, and he should have left well enough alone and kept his ass glued where it was. Long story short: it was a fucking mess.

His grenades shielded his sprint across the field, but they also obscured visuals for both Peebee and Mira. When things settled back down, the raiders quickly realized their squad was completely split and fanned out to pin each individually. Mira finally got that annoying engineer, Peebee managed to gun and blast her way to Liam, and Liam made a whole lot of noise that mostly pushed all these filthy Kadara types back to their blockade.

It was ‘mostly’ because, while he was striking what could only be termed an omni-tool bitch slap on one raider, another appeared out of nowhere and scored a glancing hit with his shitty jerry-rigged rifle on Liam’s shoulder. He swore, and lifted his own gun-- only to watch as the turian’s throat exploded with a viscous spray of blood. Mira’s work, without a doubt.

By the time they were mopping up the last stragglers, his suit had already internally sprayed a disinfectant on the wound and was patiently pinging him to do a field repair for the perforation.

And when they were back in the Nomad, and the adrenaline from the firefight had worn off, Liam finally became aware of the searing sharpness radiating from the wound.

“This location isn’t secure, though,” Mira was saying. “I don’t have time to deal with curious scavvers.”

He glanced over at her. She was already starting up the Nomad again, gasing forward. She seemed to be in conversation over a private line, her eyes staring through the vehicle’s port at some point in midair. They hadn’t exchanged much words beyond ‘How bad is it?’ and ‘Not too much.’

“Okay,” Mira said, and then switched tones to address him and Peebee. “We’re heading to the vault; it’s not too far.”

During the ride, the Nomad’s interior mostly filled with Peebee’s pointed passive-aggressive remarks about humans and their impulsive natures. Which Liam countered with a long, detailed list of the asari’s own incidences of impulsive behavior. Peebee eventually just blew a wet and deafening raspberry at them, and with her sitting behind them not a little spit hit his hair. Which he complained about. Loudly.

But the entire time Mira kept her mouth shut and her eyes on the road. A weird feeling in his stomach kept building, and the pain shooting out of his shoulder wasn’t easing up. He resisted the urge to look over at the bullet graze; he’d take care of it later.

But, shit. If he were being honest, he really, really needed Mira to say something. Yell at him. Shit, he hated this sort of thing. The waiting, the silent tension.

When they reached the vault entrance, Mira parked the car. She swiveled to look back at Peebee.

“Go on ahead. Need to do some first aid.”

“‘First aid’? Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Peebee smirked.

“Wh- Peebee,” Mira sputtered. “Just go on.”

“Alright, alright.”

As the asari jumped from the Nomad with all her gear thrown over her back, Mira turned herself around to go scrambling in the back for the first aid kid.

“Sooo,” Liam tried, stifling his nerves. “That was Lexi earlier?”

“Yeah,” she answered and settled back up front with the kit in hand. “She was looking at your suit’s biosensors. You’ll need stitches, but I can do a field butterfly for now.”

She popped open the little aluminum case on her lap, and then looked up at him. Her dark eyes studied him over the breather unit of her helmet. She had on the ‘professional’ face; the one that threw him for a loop, because it differed so much from her usual, so easily flustered one.

“Well, you’re gonna have to strip,” she told him, waving vaguely at his chest.

“Oh-- yeah,” Liam coughed.

Don’t laugh, don’t flirt, don’t make the joke, our cams are on observation--

“Are you at least gonna buy me--”

“Liam.”

“...Right.”

They managed to get him undressed to the waist, but only after a lot of quiet swearing and they had to pop open the wing doors to make enough room. He had to rotate in the seat to give her access to his right shoulder, and she was sitting backwards and really close, his thigh lightly leaning against her thigh. Her reaching across him had her helm so close, his breath occasionally ghosted across that blue translucent surface.

And he couldn’t tell what she was thinking just by looking at her eyes looking at the nasty gun graze on his shoulder.

When she was finished with the dressing, he was really bursting at the seams with all this silence and uncertainty.

“Mira,” he said. “Look, about before--”

“Later,” she cut him off, putting up the first aid kit. “We’ll talk about it later.”

And before she dropped over the side of the Nomad, before she even finally turned away from him, her eyes rove over him, seeing who the fuck knew what. Saying, with her gaze, who the fuck knew what.

And he wished he was the fuck that knew what to say to her. Just him, just this dumbfuck right here.

Back on the Tempest, Lexi sewed him up and chewed him out. And he may have exited the med bay at a jog. He wasted some time in cargo chatting with Gil, all the while wondering when exactly the ‘later’ she’d mentioned would come around. When a message from her popped up on his omni-tool, Liam didn’t even say good-bye to the engineer-- just walked off in the opposite direction with Gil calling annoying jibes at his back.

He walked to the pathfinder’s quarters with barnacle-thoughts growing on him like: Please don’t yell at me and Please just yell at me already.

He reached her door, exhaled heavily (‘Alright, go and take it like the experienced adult disaster that you are; not like you’ve never done this before.’), and the hatch hissed open before him.

She sat at her desk, back turned to him and reading some mail off her terminal. Her hands were scrunching at her hair with a towel; she’d already washed off the residue of the vault’s killer fog and the sweat of running and gunning all day.

“Just a second,” she called to him.

He hadn’t been in here often; they mostly stuck to storage. Her quarters were just… awesome though. Plenty of space, big bed, nice couch. The view. The whole cluster, just lined up there for your perusal.

He dropped into the sofa and watched her. And when she finally looked up, and finally stood and threw her towel over the back of her chair, and finally sat across from him-- he felt like he’d eaten a whole bucket of that weird piggy dextro pudding stuff because his chest was tight and there seemed a shortage of oxygen in here.

“Okay, Liam,” she said. “What’s wrong?”

And he could breath again, thank goodness-- this, he could handle. He knew how to do this.

“Right,” he sighed, raising his hands-- as supplication or explication, it was hard to tell. “Look, I know I screw up a lot. Like, a lot. And I know it seems like I’m not trying, but really I am-- and you know, I mean, I know that it hardly makes a difference if I just keep pulling the same shit. But. But-- I mean, I guess I can’t really explain why this keeps happening; they’ve tried to tell me-- Look, I promise--”

“Liam,” she said. And when it was clear his momentum wasn’t permitting him a pause, even for her, she tried again. “Liam.”

She took his hand into her own. And that made him shut up, her skin still warmed from her shower and clinging to his. And the awareness that she smelled clean and good.

He forced himself to look up at her again, meet her gaze. The serious attentiveness of her dark, round eyes on him.

“I didn’t say ‘What’s wrong with you,’” she stated. Her hand squeezed his. “I said, ‘What’s wrong?’”

He used to know this guy back in sixth form whose dad had a hobby flying those old mechanical planes. With like, the two wings and everything. Once, he got to ride behind his friend’s dad, his cheeks flapping in the wind and his stomach leaping pleasantly every time they did some nutty loop-de-loop or whatever. And he’ll never forget that feeling when they kept rising and rising, the earth a distant memory, and this heaviness in his ears popped and his head felt a bit dizzy but better. You can’t get that in modern ships with the mass effect stabilizers and all.

But he remembered that feeling clearly, and recognized it as a lot like what he felt now.

Except on a ridiculously expanded scale.

That pop and that relief and that disorientation times a million.

That’s what she did to him, what she had him feeling. And so it was that bit of dextro food all over again, with his throat closed up and his chest tight. Mira had her eyes on him, so concerned and as calm as the stars. So he needed to say something, anything.

“I’m sorry--” he started, but she shook her head. He tried again, “Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t be sitting here asking if I wasn’t,” she said softly. And she still held his hand.

He ran a thumb over her skin, needing that contact, that tactile thinking process.

Liam swallowed. “I guess-- shit, I don’t know. I’ve always been like this. Maybe different place, different people. But you know, always.”

“And… this particular place and people?” she asked.

She was asking for something specific, and as he watched, her eyes careened and if he pushed his fingers up just millimeters, he thought he’d probably feel the flutter in her heart through the pulse in her wrist. And in the heat that rose in both their faces, he knew she probably needed to hear the thing he needed just as much to say. Acknowledge.

He breathed. “I guess… Lately, I think I’ve really needed something from you. Your attention, your regard. I think I… I’ve gotten to the point where I need you.”

She exhaled, her lashes fluttering. Shifting, she leaned back against the couch, and he had to fight the urge to follow her.

She gazed at him. “Can I show you something?” When he nodded, she swiveled to look at the monitor on the wall across from them. “SAM, play back my helm cam footage from the last mission. Fast-forward.”

“Yes, Ryder.”

Her screen was mounted a lot farther from her couch than his, and it was a lot smaller, but even with SAM speeding through the recording, it was clear what she wanted him to see: if she did not have a target on sight, then eighty percent of the time her gaze was gripped by him. Her helmet turned to watch him load-up on grenades, kid around with Peebee. Stared at him, his back turned, silhouetted by the lucid Kadara sun.

Her camera trailed after him, following, persistent. Orbiting.

When her hand squeezed his, he turned back with his eyes like saucers, he knew-- and she shifted forward, gentle rustle of her shorts sliding across the couch, and placed the other hand on his cheek. Her body shifted the pressure between them, even with an eternity of space still dividing them. Strands of damp, dark hair swung close with their shampoo smell.

“Liam,” Mira whispered, gazing at him. “You always have my attention. I’m always looking.”

And she hesitated. Hesitated on the next words that she maybe wanted to say. He didn’t blame her; he’d hardly given her much foundation to take the next leap. Her eyes lowered, lifted again, and he couldn’t ever get enough of that face. Dark honey and amber. All rounded and softened. Her fingers burned his flesh where she touched his cheek.

Her breath dropped, and she lifted from her seat on the couch, moving closer and her intention clarifying.

“Yes…?” she asked, so quietly.

He answered, simply and in his opinion best-ly, by surging forward and kissing her.

It wasn’t the first kiss. Far from it. And it was his biggest hope that there would be plenty more. But if there were, and if he could he would etch this in his heart (maybe tattoo, at some point?)-- if he did end up lucky enough to have another kiss after this, and another after that, and another and another-- he would do his best to make each and every single one as good and meaningful and world-shattering as this one.

She bent into him, bent backwards and forwards like she’d already been by him and his shit. But there’d be more-- god, would there be more, just please, please, stay like this. Too good to him and too able and willing to go through it with him. His throat was tight, yeah, like it had been since the day he met her, but it itched with hot emotion too.

Freely, impossibly invited, his tongue slipped through. Sweet and warm and bitter acid of another person’s mouth. Her hands flew up to clutch at him with fingers biting into his back, at the base of his neck. His lips moved, in that awful and painful way that was too much and not enough, against hers-- a tidal motion, a dance of Scourge that ate and ate and ate.

And he was bending into her, whether by the strength of her sniper’s fingers pulling him under or by his own volition-- it didn’t matter, ‘cause he wanted all of it. Fuck some of it. He wanted all of it and then some. Everything.

She parted from him, gasping, (a sharp little inhale, that’s all) and that sound went straight to his pants. Somehow one of her legs was scrabbling for purchase along his side, and his hands were pushing along the bare skin of her back, threatening that t-shirt. And somehow it was only his clinging to her that kept her from falling back into the couch-- orbiting is just the act of perpetually falling, and he was sure Sir Isaac Newton had been a psychic because he’d always be orbiting her, falling into her for an eternity and may death do us part.

When she sort of rose up though, to press into him, Liam’s thinking processes came back online. He slowed down the ferocity of the face-devouring and slid his fingers down from their dangerous path.

Sensing his shift, she paused too, and drew back.

Neither of them could summon the amount of brainpower for words, glazed-eyed and swollen-lipped.

She slid back from him (how did she get into his lap?), pushing damp hair out of her flushed face and off her neck.

“Umm…” Liam attempted, a sheepish hand coming up to cover his sheepish grin.

“Yeah,” she said, too quickly. “I mean…”

“Yeah,” he repeated.

Although what the hell that meant, who the fuck knew.

She was further away, but her legs still rested around his; and he should move, but he really, really didn’t want to.

He tried again. “Uhm. I hate myself for saying this, really, like it’s crazy difficult-- but I think we’ve already put the pedal to the metal enough? Maybe, like, take it slow?”

She blinked at him; probably because he was speaking with the most obvious reluctance ever. She snorted, grinning, and looked down. All freckles and-- fuck.

Mira glanced back up. “Yeah. I think that’s, like, a good idea.”

He deflated. “Well, shit, now that you’ve said it…”

She laughed outright. And he laughed too.

They ended up staying in her quarters, watching a vid just like any other night. And yeah, it was predictable of them, but whatever.

They had exactly what they needed.

#mass effect andromeda #me:a #fanfiction #liam kosta #liam x ryder #rydam #sara ryder #fem!ryder #my writing #uuhm this might be a good time to mention that i'm 99.9% that the rating is firm #ya know.#reasons #hahaha kosta u are a disaster how are u still alive #what even #mira has the patience of a saint i swear #lol #these two

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raybansandcoffee · 8 years ago

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In the Heat of Los Angeles - Chapter Seven: I Loved the Way She Said LA (Spitalfield)

If you have missed any of the chapters of In The Heat of Los Angeles find them here.

I woke up before Harry for the first time all week. I snuck into the bathroom and took the chance to do my normal morning routine that I’d failed to do all week. Pee. Brush teeth. Brush hair. Put hair in ponytail. Put on gym clothes. Yeah, I’d packed gym clothes. As much as I hated that Kammi made me do this every morning I’d taken the last few days off because my schedule was crazy and I wasn’t staying at home. I need to do something today. I put my watch on and walked back into the bedroom. Harry was laying on his stomach so I sat down on his ass before leaning down and kissing the bare skin of his back.

“Good morning,” I whispered. He stretched his arms before reaching behind him grabbing me.

“Good morning,” he responded. His voice was deep and gritty this morning. He turned under me so he could look up at me. “You actually woke up before me.”

“I did. And I’ve got clothes on to go for a run.”

“Are you going down to my gym or running outside?” He pulled me down on to him hugging me. He rubbed his hand up and down my back underneath my running top.

“I hadn’t decided. I don’t really know my way around the neighborhood.”

“Use my gym,” he said. “I’ll join you.” I felt him kiss the top of my head.

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to. You aren’t the only one who has skipped the gym the last few days.” He hugged me tighter. “Though I must admit this right here is nice. Except that I have to wee and you laying on me is sort of making it worse.” I laughed as I rolled off of him. He climbed over me, kissed me quickly and then ran into the bathroom. My phone started to ring on the nightstand so I reached over for it. I saw a photo of Eliza and I on the screen.

“Good morning, Eliza Joy,” I answered.

“Good morning, E. When do you want me to come over?”

“Whenever. I was just about to go for a run in Harry’s gym but I would happily avoid that so we could get some work done.”

“Well, I was just about to leave the condo to go get some Starbucks.”

“Starbucks. Yum. Harry what do you want from Starbucks?” I yelled towards the bathroom.

“That vanilla cream cold brew thing,” he called back.

“I heard him,” Eliza said. “Want your usual?”

“Of course. Get me an extra shot today.”

“Alright. Send me a pin of where you are so I can find you,” she said.

“I’ll do it as soon as I’m off the phone. Forgive me if I’m sweaty when you get here, I think he’s going to make me actually workout which is unfair. Despite it being my suggestion.”

“Convince him to get sweaty for a different reason.”

“Oooo! I like how you think. The code to his gate is 54893.”

“Sounds good. I’ll let myself in so just be quiet or whatever.”

“I’ll try my best.” I hung up the phone, sent her a pin to help her get to Harry’s and threw my phone back on the nightstand. Harry came in to the room in just his boxers.

“She’s bringing coffee?”

“She is.”

“I could make breakfast for all of us,” he said.

“You could or you could come over here and give me a kiss.” He walked to the bed and bent down to kiss me. I leaned back slightly before using my ankles to make his knees buckle so he fell onto the bed on top of me.

“You had ulterior motives.”

“I did. I think we can burn some calories in a way that is much more fun than going to your gym.”

“Isn’t Eliza on her way?”

“Yup, I gave her the gate code.” I slid his boxer shorts down to his thighs. “She can let herself in and get to work."

“I’m glad you’re working from home today.” He slid my shorts off as I took off my sports bra and tank top. I moved so that we were laying on the bed normally and he started to kiss me again. His lips moved down my neck and on to my breasts. One of his hands massaging the left while his mouth sucked and tugged at my nipple on the right. I moaned loudly. “I really enjoy how vocal you are about your pleasure.”

“I really enjoy your tongue,” I said nearly stuttering out the words as his free hand found it’s way between my legs, his fingers sliding over the slick skin and stopping on my clit. My heart jumped into my throat. “And your hands. Definitely enjoy your hands. Fuck.”

“Not yet,” he said. I started to tug at his hair and this time he was who moaned. My feet planted on the bed and my thighs closed in a little around Harry. He moved to kiss me again and I bit his lip as his index and middle fingers slid inside of me, his thumb paying expert level attention to my clit. His fingers curled inside of me hitting just the right spot. My breathing started to speed up and I almost sounded like I was panting. His lips again moved down to my neck, then my shoulder. I loved foreplay, I loved shit like this but I was pretty sure we didn’t have time for this right now. Eliza would be here any minute and even though I ordered iced coffee I didn’t want it to be gross when I went downstairs. Think fast Everlee Mae, how do you get him to speed this process up so you get what you wanted out of the morning?

The lightbulb turned on in my head and I reached for the condom on the nightstand, he’d enjoyed when I opened it with my teeth the other night, I’ll try that again. He pulled back to watch me. Be effective and sexy, now go. My teeth were on the package and I tried to rip it open. Just my luck it wouldn’t budge. I tried again and again finally getting it open on the fifth try and it flew from the package and hit Harry’s forehead. I couldn’t help it, I started laughing. Hysterically.

“That is officially the least sexy thing I could’ve done this morning. I’m sorry,” I said, still laughing. He grabbed the condom from where it had landed on my chest.

“It’s okay. You finally got it open. You seem anxious. Are you okay? Do you want to do this? You haven’t been the one to initiate sex. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Fuck yes I want to do this. I’m fine. Just realizing that while this was a brilliant idea for how to spend my morning that Eliza should be here soon and I maybe shouldn’t leave her downstairs by herself all morning just so I can sleep with the client we are supposed to be working with today.

“Could you in this circumstance no longer refer to me as ‘the client’? It’s weird.”

“What would you like me to refer to you as?” I felt him slide inside of me ever so slowly.

“How about your boyfriend? Or your lover?”

“HA! Not happen.” He rolled his hips against mine and I moaned. “Yes!”

“Yes, you will call me your boyfriend or lover?”

“No, that was a yes to what you just did. Boyfriend, no, we’ve been on one date. That does not make you my boyfriend. Lover, maybe, but that makes me feel weird. How about fuck buddy?” He was just getting ready to slam his body into mine and he stopped.

“Not your fuck buddy,” he replied. “I believe we have a bit more of a connection than just two people who scratch an itch for each other.”

“Then you are my friend, Harry and when it’s work related my client.”

“I’m going to make sure that I change the way you’re referring to me,” he said before slamming his hips hard against mine repeatedly.

“Whatever you say, buddy.” I was very quickly realizing that the ability to speak was going to leave me soon. His movements became faster and I screamed louder this time. “Oh god! Oh Harry!”

“I love the way you scream my name,” he said. I wanted to laugh. I loved dirty talk as much as the next girl but that was such a cheesy line that I was going to have to try hard not to laugh at him during sex. I’d discovered over time the three things that were bad to do during sex were laugh, cry, and fall asleep. I’d done them all at some point. I liked Harry enough to bite the inside of my lip to appear sexy and not like I was stifling laughter.

“Harry, baby, I’m really close,” I breathed out. That’s when I felt his hand creep back between my legs. He started to rub my clit as his hips hit mine. Every muscle in my body contracted and twitched at his touch. My was heart beating so fast as his movements had gone from seemingly thought out to erratic. I’d suddenly I lost the ability to speak, I knew he liked that I was vocal about . My head tilted back and I’m sure I looked like I was yelling because I felt like I was yelling, but I couldn’t speak or breathe. I could feel his body tense as his orgasm hit him and a short time later his body fell on top of mine. He breathed heavily in my ear as I tried to catch my breath. “Full confession. That was the best fucking way to get a morning workout in that I’ve ever tried.” It was okay now to laugh so I did.

“Agreed,” he replied. “I don’t even want to move.”

“Neither do I but we need to shower. We are now sweaty and gross. Yay workout!”

“We could conserve water and shower together?”

“We need to be quick. Eliza will be here soon. Coffee, workee.” He laughed in my ear before kissing me.

“Quick shower then we’ll go head downstairs. While you two go over your day I’ll make us breakfast.”

“And you just made this morning better.” I kissed him before pushing him off of me on the bed and heading into the bathroom. He was on my heels quickly and it wasn’t long before we were in the shower. It seemed oddly normal to pass the shampoo and soap between each other with a kiss. I was a bit creeped out by how comfortable we were becoming with each other. This wasn’t a level you should reach with someone after a few days and technically, one date, but for some reason it didn’t seem weird when he took the handheld shower head and used it to rinse my hair and help me get a knot out of my long hair. We threw on some clothes and I didn’t bother to do my hair, it was a day to let the natural texture of my hair have it’s moment. I put a little makeup on as he messed around with his hair and we headed downstairs.

“What do you want for breakfast?”

“I don’t care,” I replied. We got in view of the living room. “Hello Eliza Joy. Did you find it okay?”

“Yeah, it wasn’t difficult.” She was going through her email. “You could’ve fucked a little faster so I could get the wifi password though, my phone is struggling to play hotspot today. Oh and E, I’ve never heard you scream like that and I’ve been your roommate since we were 20. I’m sort of proud.”

“It was worth the vocal acrobatics. So worth it.” Harry turned to look at me and seemed a little shocked. I bent forward to kiss him and shove him so he’d walk down the rest of the stairs. “You walked in on us in the bathroom the other day while I was explaining the first night we had sex to my roommates, dude. You know we talk about literally everything there’s never been a secret between us. Like I can look at her and say, Eliza Joy, it’s been a while since you had a boyfriend. Have you propositioned Ty for sex recently?”

“Last week after a bottle of wine. Bastard of course likes the same kind of men I do but does not like me..”

“Do I need to get you batteries for your vibrator?”

“I have some and you hadn’t had sex in a longer period of time than I had. I may not have had a boyfriend in the last few months but that doesn’t mean I don’t have guys that I can sleep with. I’m happy to know the cobwebs have been sufficiently cleared from your vag though.”

“You two are sort of vulgar. This is entertaining and also sort of hot,” Harry said laughing. Most guys were intimidated by the fact that Eliza and I spoke so openly like this. Drew had never gotten used to the idea that Eliza knew everything about our relationship down to the freckle on his ass.

“Get used to it. You’ve seen me with Kam. We are bad, Eliza and I are worse.”

“So much worse,” Eliza said. “We learned from the best. Our mothers do the same thing.”

“Really?” Harry asked.

“Yeah,” I replied. “My Mom and Eliza’s Mom were college roommates. They are still best friends and do everything together. We have been best friends since the womb.” I picked up the coffee that Eliza had brought for me and then handed Harry his cup. I laid down on the couch propped up by a few pillows. Harry sat down between my legs and rested his head on my chest. “There is pretty much nothing she doesn’t know.”

“You have four nipples,” Eliza said.

“That’s pretty much public knowledge.”

“I didn’t know that until she told me on Tuesday when I brought her coffee after you finally left her office.” She was being kind to me by leaving out the plethora of other things I’d told her. That first morning over coffee I spilled everything to Eliza in one long run on sentence that didn’t make a whole lot of sense. But she was who I talked to about everything. While I had a boyfriend for six years Eliza had enjoyed the company of several eligible bachelors in the Chicagoland area.

“But seriously, I really don’t keep anything from her so I hope you aren’t pissed off about that. And while we may share information we don’t share men so don’t get any ideas. I’ve had people suggest it. Didn’t go over well.”

“I wouldn’t dare suggest that. It’s stupid to assume that because you’re close friends that you’d do that. And no I’m not pissed off about the fact that you tell your best friend everything. I have friends that I have those sort of conversations with as well. Everyone does.” He started to get comfy between my legs as Eliza started to go through the list of voicemails that we had this morning and who I should probably return calls to. I picked up my phone to look through for an email when I saw a text from Kammi.

Work from home does not mean stay in bed all morning and have sex. Get your ass to work you fucking slacker.

“You called Kammi?” I asked.

“No, she called me. She wanted to borrow that necklace I got in Paris on our last trip and couldn’t find it this morning when she stopped at home. She asked what you were doing, I told her that your most recent words were ‘oh god oh god oh Harry’ and I think that was pretty word for word on what you’d said.”

“You weren’t exaggerating. And I’m likely not going to hear the end of this tonight.”

“Oh definitely not. Especially not if Nick is coming over after dinner.”

“I thought there were no boyfriends allowed,” Harry said.

“Technically there is not. The shows are re-runs tonight but we still have roommate time. Because we leave for Malibu in the morning Nick will likely stay with us tonight and then just leave with us in the morning and hang out at the office or just meet us at the office to leave. He usually gets a pass on nights like that.”

“Does that mean I can come over tonight?”

“You can stay home tonight, Mister. You shouldn’t get used to sharing a bed with me,”

“But you’ll be gone all weekend and then the next week and a half after that.”

“Don’t whine,” I replied laughing.

“Wait, you aren’t coming to Malibu?” Eliza asked.

“I haven’t been invited,” Harry said looking up at me.

“We all figured you were coming. You should come, there’s more than enough room. E’s master suite is HUGE.”

“I like that the three of you all decided that he was coming.”

“All four, it was actually Nick’s idea according to Kammi.”

“You’re all dead to me.”

“You’ll be having sex, you’ll forget that we are dead to you by the time you’ve put your suitcase down.”

“So do I get to meet you at the office to go to Malibu too?” I groaned.

“We can discuss whether you are coming to Malibu later. Eliza Joy, what do you want for breakfast. Harry is cooking for us.”

“I don’t care. Whatever you both want to eat.” Harry turned to look at me.

“What would you like, love?”

“Whatever is fine. You surprised me yesterday and did a good job.” He moved slightly to kiss me. He pulled back from the kiss smiling at me and kissed me again quickly before standing up to go into the kitchen to start cooking.

“You two are going to get gross fast,” Eliza said.

“Probably,” I answered. “He’s a good kisser so I have no intention on stopping him.”

“So Harry, did you actually text Grace yesterday?” Eliza asked.

“I didn’t text her. I called her,” Harry replied. “She’s a lovely woman. Told me I should come to Chicago next week with you ladies.”

“Seriously? You didn’t tell me that,” I said as I popped up from the couch. “What is with the people in my life inviting you to shit without consulting me.”

“Obviously they know that I’m perfect for you and you should stop fighting it.”

“You are not perfect for me and even if you are you don't know that yet.” I groaned. “Of course my fucking mother invited you to Chicago.”

“She said she wanted to meet the man who finally made her daughter call home about a relationship.”

“She acts like I never call home.”

“She said that yesterday morning was the first time in almost a week that she’d talked to you.” That was actually correct. I’d had a busy few days and hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to Mom. Our calls were usually really long so we survived on text messages and had a weekly phone call date, which was usually Tuesdays and I’d missed this week because I was with Harry. We had talked Friday when I called her about the interview I had on Monday. I needed her to remind me that I don’t sound stupid all of the time.

“She’s going to get another call today because of this bullshit. I can’t believe she invited you. Actually, wait I can. She likes to meddle in my relationships. She’s a mother, it’s what she does.”

“She seems very sweet.”

“Don’t get on her bad side,” Eliza said. “We got in trouble a lot as kids. I feared Grace more than I feared my own Mom. Grace has this terrifying look that she gets. And that damn wooden spoon.”

“The wooden spoon of death is a more accurate name,” I said.

“Wooden spoon?” Harry asked.

“It’s an Italian thing. Nuns used rulers. Italian mothers used wooden spoons. Pops got me a shirt when I turned 18 that said ‘wooden spoon survivor’, Mom threatened to take him out with the wooden spoon when she saw it.”

“It’s nice that your parents appear to get along really well,” Harry said.

“They were best friends when they were married. They grew apart and wanted different things. Didn’t change that they were friends. And they had me so they knew they needed to stay friends. Do yours get along?” I asked Harry. We’d touched briefly on our family lives on our date last night. He had of course looked up all of the information in the world about mine. I knew he had a sister who he was very close with but we were able to dig a little deeper into things since I had allowed last night to be considered a date.

“Not quite that well. You won’t find them traveling to Mexico for a vacation every year.” Eliza laughed. None of my friends found the close relationship between my parents odd, but it was all we’d ever known. “Okay Eliza. What else do I need to do today other than lay here and watch you teach Curly here how to act?”  “I can act!” he protested.

“You think,” I replied laughing. “We will see.”

“Just answer your emails and call Kammi, she’s texted me twice this morning to get on your call sheet.”

“I’ll call her now.” I stood up from the couch and walked to where Harry was in the kitchen. “Call me when breakfast is ready,” I said. He leaned down to kiss me.

“Okay, don’t stay on too long,” he said before kissing me again. I headed to part of the kitchen where I could watch Harry and Eliza but they wouldn’t be able to hear me while I called Kammi. If she had text Eliza to get on my call sheet rather than me there must be something important.

“Scarcello Mackin Entertainment, Kammi Mackin’s office,” Ty answered.

“Hey Ty, it’s E. Why did her cell phone direct to you?” I asked.

“She was having breakfast with her Dad and didn’t want to get disturbed but he just left. Let me transfer you in.” I listened to our hold music for a few moments. We had the best hold music in town. We had our artists all submit acoustic versions of some of their songs and it rotated through a playlist of them.

“Took you long enough to call,” Kammi said.

“Whatever it’s still early.”

“You’ve been avoiding working this morning for sex. Which if you try to do again I’m going to ban you from working from home forever. So, are you going to have Harry just come into the office tomorrow and leave for Malibu with all of us,” she asked.

“What is with all of you assuming he’s going to Malibu?”

“He is,” Kammi said.

“I hadn’t invited him. Eliza basically invited him this morning because you whack jobs all think he should come. And evidently my mother invited him to Chicago next week. So basically all of you suck.”

“He should come to Malibu. I mean what better way to get to know a guy than half naked and half buzzed?”

“I have an idea, not with all of my roommates.”

“Whatever. We all need to get to know him better. So just deal with it and bring him to Malibu. And you probably should bring him to Chicago. It’s going to be a while before you have a chance to get home again. What if he isn’t in the States and doesn’t get to meet Grace?”

“Then Grace can deal with it,” I replied laughing. “We’ve been on ONE DATE. You all are going to have me married off to him by a month at this rate.”

“You don’t normally let people make it past one date, he appears to be on the road to two.”

“Oh my god, I ran into Rachel on the date.”

“How’s the ex-sis doing?”

“Still calling me her sister and pregnant already.”  “Jesus! Really?”

“Yup and she looks so excited about it. I’m happy for her but fuck if I don’t feel like a slacker. You know the minute that my Mom or Dad or worse Nonna Scarcello find out that she is having a baby that I’m going to get asked that every fucking time I see someone.”

“Probably. Though if you brought a boy home to Chicago Nonna would probably leave you alone. She’d know that you have a life and don’t just work 24/7.”

“That’s probably true. Although then I’d constantly have her asking how Harry was. You know how my Nonna gets.”

“I do. So, he’s coming to Malibu?”

“Fuck off. Yes, I’ll tell him to come to Malibu. What is with everyone?”

“You look happy. You’re my best friend. I like seeing you happy.”

“Thanks. Can I admit something very odd for me?”

“Of course,” she said.

“I feel happy.”

“Being happy shouldn’t feel odd.”

“It does. I don’t really know how to deal with this. He makes me smile constantly. Like my face hurts from smiling this much.” Eliza had brought her laptop to the island and was sitting and talking to him while he cooked us breakfast. “He’s making Eliza and I breakfast right now. I don’t get it.”

“Get what?” Kammi asked.

“Why he likes me?” I’d whispered it. Admitting it to Kammi was the first time I’d admitted it to myself.

“Because you’re a fucking catch. You’re absolutely brilliant, hot as fuck, and one of the kindest people I know. I mean you can also be an amazing bitch but sometimes it’s funny to watch because you normally feel terrible when you do it and I can see it on your face. Don’t think so little of yourself, Everlee. You’re amazing and he’s lucky he figured it out before someone else did.”

“Thanks. I don’t like being vulnerable like this. Letting him in is hard. But I like him enough that I want to.”

“Good. You deserve to be happy you know. I get that it’s hard to be vulnerable but you need to be willing to because it’s obvious that he likes you a lot. And maybe this is the circumstance that will work. He might get your life better than anyone else has.”

“You’re right. I know you are. I’m scared because we are like four days in to this and I already like being around him way more than I should. It’s probably a good thing that I’ll be gone for a week and a half. Cause me to slow down and not feel like the idea of sleeping at home tonight it going to suck,” I said laughing.

“Well, I’m excited for a chance to discuss this tonight with everyone present. And I’m also excited for the chance for us to all get to know him this weekend.”

“Yeah,” I replied. “So what did you need on call sheet for?”

“Oh! Yeah, I did totally have a purpose for this! LA Magazine moved the time of the photoshoot on Monday. We will need to be in the office on Monday at 6:00 for hair and makeup. Ty has an entire glam squad scheduled for us.”

“6:00? Ugh. That means we have to come back Sunday night from Malibu. I hate that idea. Especially considering we are flying to New York Tuesday and leave at like 5:00 AM. It almost makes me wish we’d scheduled our flight with the pilot as a Red Eye.”

“We still can if we want to. Let’s talk it over tonight. Nick is making the trip with us and staying at my parents’ house with me. If we are all on board for leaving Monday let’s just flip it and leave late Monday night.”

“Okay. We will talk about it tonight.” Harry walked over to where I was sitting on the counter.

“Breakfast is ready, love,” he said.

“Okay. I’ll be off in a second.”

“Okay.” He leaned in to kiss me. “Hi Kammi. You should’ve come and worked here today too.”

“He’s funny. We’d never get anything done if all four of us were at his house.”

“I know. He is very funny.” He winked at me before kissing me again. “Okay. I’ll see you at home. Eliza and I will be there by 6:00. Let me know if we should pick up dinner.”

“Okay. Ty or I will text you. Good luck today. Hopefully he doesn’t suck at acting or you’re going to have a tough day.”

“That’s the truth. I’ll talk to you later.” I hung up the phone and jumped off of the counter walking over to Harry and Eliza. We ate breakfast together before they got to work. I would leave the room whenever I needed to make a phone call but I watched Eliza work through scenes with Harry. Thank god he was actually pretty good, especially for someone who had never really acted. It was also nice to see how far Eliza had come. She was tremendous as an acting coach and would make a great one full-time if she ever decided to give up acting. I was prepared that this new show would steal her away from me and had started trying to figure out what would come next for me without her. I hated the idea of working with someone other than Eliza but I would never want to prevent her from growing in her career because she was a fucking badass.

“Do you really have to stay at home tonight?” Harry asked as I was picking up all of my stuff from his bedroom. Eliza had left and was picking up dinner on the way home.

“I do,” I replied. “I need to pack for Malibu and so do you.”

“Are you sure you want me to go? It is soon to be having a weekend away together.”

“I’m sure I want you to go. You got to know Eliza a little bit today but were working. This weekend will be a chance to get to know all of my roommates. And we can spend some time together and get to know each other more.” He was sitting on the bed watching me move around the room.

“Okay. I just don’t want to pressure you into bringing me just because your roommates think I should come.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me towards him. I straddled his lap and sat looking him in the eyes. Man he had gorgeous eyes. “I want you to want me to come.”

“I want you to come to Malibu. Meet me at the office at 10:00 tomorrow morning. Or you can come earlier and hang out with Nick. I’m sure he’ll be in my office most of the morning.” I leaned forward to kiss him as he hugged me tightly. He still looked unsure. “I want you to come.”

“Okay. I’ll pack tonight so that I can meet you in the morning.”

“It’s supposed to be nice weather. Bring stuff to be outside. The house is awesome. And if you’d prefer not to stay with me there are enough bedrooms that you don’t have to share a room. You’re right it is soon to be taking a weekend away together but I’m going to admit that I’m excited about it.”

“You are?” he asked. He instantly looked excited, like a kid on Christmas.

“I am. Maybe we can even do dinner while we are there, just us.”

“Like a second date?”

“Like a second date.” I started laughing. “I am going to be gone for a while. We should probably have one of those before I leave for New York and Chicago.”

“We should.” He kissed me again before nuzzling into where my neck and shoulder met. “I don’t think I’m ready to let you leave.”

“I have to. Roommate night.”

“I know. I get it. I just rather like you sleeping in my bed.” He was mumbling into my skin which made me giggle.

“Tomorrow and we get to sleep in my bed.”

“I know. Okay, finish gathering your stuff. The longer I hold you the less likely I’m going to be to let you go.” He kissed me and I stood up. I went into the bathroom and threw the last of my makeup into the bag. Harry was standing in the doorway waiting when I came back into the bedroom. He pulled me into a hug again. “I’ll come to the office tomorrow early. Nick and I can hang out. I should get to know him better.”

“You’re really sweet.”

“I’m trying, just like you. You are trying to open up and let me in. I’m going to try to be sweet and not just talk about how you have a nice ass.” I leaned back as my jaw dropped. He had managed to be relatively sweet all day and there it was. His cocky sense of humor that unfortunately was sexy as hell.

"You are such an ass.”

“You think I’m funny. You’re smiling.”

“I may think you’re funny but I also think you’re an ass.” I started towards the stairs and down to the main level of the house.

“You do have a nice ass,” he said as he followed me. I held my hand up, flipping him off. I couldn’t help but also laugh. He kept me on my toes if nothing else. I grabbed my bag with my laptop off of the floor in the kitchen and my purse off of the counter.

“I feel like a fuckin’ bag lady.”

“You do have a lot of bags.”

“Clearly I need to focus on packing in fewer items for this weekend. Which I need to go home and do.”

“Fine, I’ll let you leave.” He hugged me again, bending down to kiss me. Unlike the kisses upstairs this one wasn’t just a series of simple kisses. I felt it in my fingers and my toes. I nearly dropped all of my bags too. “Text me and let me know you get home okay.”

“It’s just across Los Angeles, dude.”

“Still.”

“Fine. I’ll text you and let you know I get home okay.” After one final kiss I walked towards the door and out into the driveway. I put my bags in the back of my Range Rover and opened the door to climb in. As I sat down I saw Harry was still standing in the doorway watching me to my car. I smiled and waved at him before turning and pulling out of the driveway. I knew it was sort of time to come clean with my father, so I went through the motions to call him.

“Hey kiddo,” he answered.

“Hey Pops. How was the office today?”

“Good, still here. Getting stuff finished up to head to dinner with Cameron since he leaves in the morning to head back to New York. How did your working day at Harry’s go?”

“Really well, kid oozes talent and charisma. Eliza helped him work through his audition for the Nolan film and we have an audition and meeting schedule for him Monday. It’s the one he has his heart set on but she worked through a few more with him. Pops, I’m gonna lose her someday. What will I do without Eliza?”

“You’ll be okay and you’ll both be doing what you love.”

“I know but she basically runs my life. I’ll be lost for a while.”

“You might be. So Malibu this weekend?”

“Yup, we are all working until like 11:00 tomorrow and then heading up. Are you planning on coming this weekend?” I asked. Please say no. Please say no. Please say no. Please say no.

“I thought I’d head up Saturday to spend some time at the house and have dinner with all of you kids. Not sure I’ll stay too long though. Is it just the roommates or is Nick coming?”

“Nick is coming and we all decided to invite Harry too.”

“That’s a great idea. Show him a good time for a weekend and relax him before his meeting Monday. And it gives all of you a chance to help him a little more.” Not what I was thinking but alright.

“Yeah, we thought it was a good chance for him to get to know all of us. We are all coming back on Sunday and tonight we are deciding if we are going to wait until Tuesday morning to fly to New York or if we are rescheduling the jet and going on Monday as a Red Eye so I can be in New York Tuesday morning to get work done.”

“Whatever you guys decide is great. But don’t worry about working yourself too hard. Your meetings are just Wednesday and Thursday is a chance for you to meet with your New York team. Then Friday your mother expects you home before the boys are home from school.”

“How do you know that?” I asked.

“We talked this morning. She was checking to see if she should plan on me being at the birthday dinner on Friday.”

“Will you be?” It wasn’t completely odd to have Pops home when I was. It meant he got to see Nonna and Papa.

“I won’t. I’m not going to head home this time. Your grandparents are busy most of the weekend with though your Nonna says you need to stop at the house to see her.”

“Of course I will. I’ll call her before I get in town Friday. I’m there until Wednesday morning. So I’ll have time to see them.”

“I forgot this was the trip where you were speaking to the Northwestern students. Try to recruit us a few interns while you’re there.”

“Always,” I replied. “Will I see you in the morning?”

“Yeah, I’ll stop in to see all of you before you head to Malibu.”

“Alright. Have a good night with Cameron, Pops. Love you.”

“Love you too, Kiddo.” I hung up the phone and quickly finished the drive. I knew I’d failed. I should’ve just said it. ‘Pops, I’m dating a client. And he’s pretty great.’ But I couldn’t do it. I needed to figure out how. I grabbed my bags and hopped in the elevator to head up to the condo. I sent Harry a text to let him know I was home.

I’m home safe and sound. Good. You should’ve stayed for dinner. Roommate dinner. I know. Have fun with them. Call me before bed. Miss me already? I just might. You’ll be fine. Call me before you go to bed. Okay. I will. But I’m home now so…bye!

“I’m home,” I yelled into the condo.

“Living room!” came the yelling voice of my three roommates. I dropped my bags in the entry and went towards them.

“Welcome home,” Ty said. “I don’t know that we recognize you anymore.”

“Fuck off. You all do the same thing when you have boyfriends.”

“Are you calling him your boyfriend?” Kammi asked as I poured myself a glass of wine from the bottle on the coffee table and sat down.

“Fuck no. He tried this morning, I told him no.”

“She didn’t really say no other than that. It was more like ‘yes yes oh god yes!’ over and over,” Eliza said.

“What can I say? The sex is really good.”

“How was the day at his house, EJ?” Kammi asked Eliza. I realized that the Chinese carry out we’d gotten for dinner was also sitting on the coffee table and reached for what I’d ordered and started eating.

“It was fun. He’s really cool guy and he’s really into our girl. I’m actually glad I got a chance to work with him. He’s actually really good. I think he’ll knock his audition out of the park.”

“I hope so, he has his heart set on this role.”

“I can’t believe you came home tonight,” Ty said. “If I were you I would totally have stayed there again tonight. He’s fucking hot.”

“He tried but he knows it’s roommate night. By the way, next week we can do roommate night in Tribeca but we need to vote on if Nick is allowed,” I said.

“He said he’s fine going to visit Kevin and Danielle during roommate night.”

“Let’s take a vote. All okay with Nick being at a special New York edition of roommate night raise your glass,” I said. Everyone except Kammi raised her glass which made her laugh and raise hers. “He’s allowed on a temporary basis next week. After that he will have to continue to petition for conditional acceptance.”

“You’re funny.” Kammi was laughing. She very rarely asked to break the rules of the roommate bond and have Nick included in a Thursday night. We traveled enough that we made special exceptions for when Nick needed to be part of it. “So I do have some news.”

“You better not be pregnant,” Ty said. “You’ve been drinking wine like you’re Jesus doing a reversal and turning it back into water this week.”

“Not pregnant,” Kammi said laughing. “But, I am moving.” My mouth dropped. I hadn’t expect this news. “Nick and I have been talking about it for a while and we sat down with Joe and talked about it as the three of us and I’m moving in with Nick.”

“I’m so happy for you,” I said laying over on the couch and hugging Kammi.

“So which room is mine?” Ty asked.

“Nick figured you’d say that. We will get one of the guest rooms set up so that you can stay with me whenever you want, but it’s just me moving.”

“Fine.” Ty was being pretend grumpy at the idea of Kammi moving without him. “I’ll stay here stuck with these two bitches.”

“You live here for almost nothing,” I said. “I’d like to see two bitches that feed you and put up with your obnoxious ass.”

“You love me, you’d miss me.”

“I would.” I laughed. “So all of you win. Harry is meeting us at the office tomorrow morning to go to Malibu with us.” Ty high-fived Eliza and I started laughing before reaching for a second glass of wine, it was going down perhaps too easy tonight. It had been a stressful, yet fun week. Wine was a requirement tonight. If I have a hangover in the morning it won’t matter, I’ll only be in the office until 10:00 or 11:00.

“I’m glad you weakened,” Kammi said. “I’m surprised you didn’t bring him home.”

“I hadn’t submitted the petition to have him allowed at roommate night. So I thought it was best to leave him at his own home. Plus I’ve stayed there the last three nights and I’ll be gone for a week and a half starting Monday.”

“I forgot you were staying in Chicago longer than we all are,” Kammi said.

“You’re coming?” I asked.

“I am,” Kammi said. “Ty is still trying to decide.”

“It will be a fun week. I got a suite for Jonathan’s birthday, he doesn’t know yet.”

“He will love that,” Eliza said. “And my Mom said that your Mom is going all out for Friday night dinner to celebrate.”

“Ugh, my mother.”

“What?” Ty asked.

“She talked to Harry on the phone yesterday because the ass found her number in my computer that was at his house and called her. She invited him to Chicago.”

“Whoa. Are you taking him?”

“Fuck if I know. We’ve been on one goddamn date. But of course my mother, she thinks he’s cute so she invites him. And since Pops isn’t going home I’ll have to go my Nonna and Papa Scarcello which would be a tremendously bad idea. Nonna would ask if I was marrying him.”

“So leave him at your Mom’s. Oh wait, that might be a worse idea,” Kammi said.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t leave Grace along with a guy I was dating. She’d literally ask every awkward question possible. That would be a fucking nightmare.”

“I would love to watch that,” Ty said. “Almost as much as I can’t wait to see James’ reaction to the fact that you’re dating your newest client.”

“It will be a matter of time. I need to come clean with him at some point. I thought I would try today and I failed, horribly failed.”

“You should maybe wait to tell him,” Eliza said. “Grace is your Mom. Moms get that shit. Dads will immediately want to grill the guy so he doesn’t break the heart of their daughter and make sure that they are aware that if they do, they will break their knee caps.”

“Yeah, I need to figure out how to do it though. I told Harry we could try to go on a second date before I head to New York where it’s just us and not everyone. And I know that Pops is heading up Saturday for a little while. I’m sure he’s bringing whoever he’s currently dating, I don’t know.”

“Isn’t that some b-list actress?” Kammi asked.

“B-list is being kind, I think,” I replied laughing. “Sorry, I don’t really want to get to know her. I should try. But she’s like 35. The idea of my father dating someone that could barely have babysat me as a kid is just weird. Though I should get used to it. The last one he dated was only 37 I think.”

“She was,” Eliza answered. We turned the TV on and started watching Grey’s. Nick perfectly timed arriving with the end of the episode and joined us for the re-run of Scandal. My phone vibrated and I looked down to see a text from Harry.

How is roommate night? Good. We have already opened our third bottle of wine. Don’t get too out of hand. Worried? Not at all. Disappointed you might miss out on Drunk E? Maybe a little. I’ve only met Drunk E once. She was rather fun. I’m sure you’ll get to see her tomorrow night. MALIBU! I am all packed. Are you? Nope. I might just make Ty do it. He knows what I should wear better than I do. And it saves me from doing the work. I would like to vote that you wear as little clothing as possible. Why am I not surprised? I’m a man. You’re a beautiful woman. I can’t help it.

“He’s flirting via text,” I whined. It was official. I was pretty sure I was drunk.

“So invite him over,” Nick said. “You four allowed me in tonight. I think he could be allowed in for the re-runs.”

“Should we take a vote?” Kammi asked.

“Yes,” I said hopefully. I was laying in an oversized chair with my head on one arm and legs draped over the other.

“All in favor of E inviting the Brit over tonight, say aye,” Ty said.

“Aye,” Eliza, Kammi and Nick replied. I clapped excitedly and clicked to call him.

“‘Ello, love,” he answered.

“God you have a sexy voice.”

“Aww, Drunk E.” He started to laugh at me.

“I am. And I’m lonely.”

“You have all of your roommates with you. You aren’t lonely.”

“But I am. You should put your bag in the car and come over here tonight. You can just come to work with me in the morning. You can sleep in my bed.”

“Text me your address and I’ll be over in a few minutes.”

“Yay!” I quickly ended the call and sent him our address. It wasn’t long before the doorbell rang and Ty jumped up to answer the door. I watched as Harry walked in, saw my bags on the floor and dropped his next to them.

“Hello everyone,” he said as he walked over to me. I opened my arms widely so I could hug him and he just laughed at me. “Oh, love. You’re drunk.”

“I am.” He kept laughing as he bent down to kiss me before maneuvering his way in between me and the back of the couch so he was laying with me. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed me again.

“And now we have happy Drunk E,” Kammi said.

“We do,” I replied as I snuggled into Harry. “Drunk E likes Harry. He smells good.” Everyone started to laugh at me. His smile was huge as he laughed. His dimples were big enough I’m pretty sure Michael Phelps could win a gold medal in them.

“You smell like a vineyard.”

“Probably. Ty got my favorite wine tonight. I think I’ve had at least one of the bottles by myself.”

“Do I need to take you to bed?”

“Oooo. I like the way you think.”

“To sleep.” He laughed again. “Or make you pack.”

“Drunk E packing is a thing of beauty,” Ty said. “She packed drunk for a trip to New York back in January. She got there and had no underwear and shorts.”

“I really wanted to be packing for a tropical vacation.” I poked Harry in the dimple. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he replied laughing. “You are cute when you’re drunk.”

“I know.”

“We should get you packed.”

“Probably. Ty, do you want to help pack for me for Malibu?”

“Of course,” he said. Harry pushed himself up off of the chair before pulling me up.

“I’m watching this,” Nick said as he stood from the love seat he and Kammi were sharing.

“Ditto,” Kammi and Eliza said at the same time. Everyone headed to my room, I noticed Harry pick up not only his bag but all of mine that were at the door still. He followed me to my room and put them down before laying on the bed.

“You have a comfortable bed,” he said. I climbed on next to him and curled up in his arms, my leg resting in between his.

“You aren’t allowed to lay in bed with him,” Nick said from the chair in my room that he normally occupied when he did his stare at me in my sleep thing.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s YOU we are packing,” Ty said. I pouted at Harry and he pouted back at me. I stood up and started to go through my closet with Ty.

“So are you ready for a weekend with everyone in Malibu?” Nick asked Harry as he sat up on my bed.

“Yeah, I think it will be fun. I’m excited to get to know all of you better.”

“Are you going to Chicago?” Eliza asked.

“Well, Grace did invite me. But I figure I should wait until Evie asks me.” We all turned to look at him. No one called me Evie except my family. Even the people in this room called me Everlee or E, sometimes Ev depending. But it was only family that called me Evie “What?”

“You called her Evie,” Kammi said.

“Yeah?”

“Only her family calls her Evie,” Nick responded.

“Drew didn’t even call her Evie,” Eliza answered.

“Should I not call you Evie?” Harry asked.

“I actually rather like it,” I replied smiling at him. “I like the way you say my name, much like you like the way I scream yours.” I winked at him and his jaw dropped.

“Oh Ev,” Eliza said shaking her head at me.

“Drunk E, go sit down. I’ll pack for you,” Ty said. Everyone ended up sitting except Ty who got me packed. Once we had my weekend of clothes picked which included something to wear for a date at Harry’s request my roommates left the room and I changed into pajamas crawling in bed with Harry.

“I’m glad you invited me over tonight,” Harry said.

“Me too,” I replied as I moved to kiss him.

“Despite you feeling the need to embarrass me in front of everyone.”

“You shouldn’t feel embarrassed. I mean I did almost laugh at you for saying that this morning but I do love the way you say my name. Hottest fucking accent ever.”

“When you scream mine it comes from a fucking gorgeous mouth,” he replied as he leaned in to kiss me again. His hands sliding up under my shirt and rubbing my back. “And as much as I’d love to hear you scream it right now you are drunk and need sleep.”

“Okay.” I pouted. “You owe me buddy.”

“I know.” He kissed me as he hugged me close, rubbing my back and coaxing me to sleep.

Holy morning sex E and Harry! I had a lot of fun writing a scene that was more detailed than ones that were previously featured in this story. I wanted a chance to show a little more insight into their relationship through their physical intimacy. And a great day of Harry getting to know Eliza better. She and E are extremely close and share everything. It's important for her to get to know Harry if E is going to keep those french doors open and let him into her world. She appears to really want to let him in and while she's still hesitating with telling her Dad she obviously wants to. She knows that Harry is someone who has the potential of being very important to her and not just because he's a client. She's told her mother, which is step one. She and her Mom are very close and confiding in her Mom was a big step, even if it meant that when Harry decided to be funny and call Grace that she felt she should invite him to Chicago. She clearly knows that her daughter is developing feelings for him and wants to make sure he's the right guy for her little Evie Mae. Which by the way HOW CUTE IS HE for calling her Evie like her family does.

I am SO excited to see what Malibu has in store for everyone. Harry will have the chance to see E interact with her four best friends. E is clearly very family oriented and to her, Kammi, Eliza, Ty and Nick are family, not friends. I like writing E being a little bit more vulnerable with Harry because who wouldn't weaken at those green eyes and dimples? I mean come on! I can't even begin to explain how much fun I'm having writing this fic. Harry is so vastly different from how I wrote him in London Calling and I'm really enjoying this version of Harry. He's funny, a bit cocky, and is not letting E hide from him or push him away. I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I loved writing it. I would LOVE any feedback you have on this or any of the other chapters. I know I'm taking a leap by making things a bit sexier but I like it. I'm going to start on the next chapter right away because I can't wait to get them to Malibu.

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