#have I ever lost my fucking breath at a casual selfie before??

[your-average-gay-dork]

Holy shit…

[dameronology]

obi-wan kenobi relationship alphabet

as requested by the lovely @read-and-rec - i hope u enjoy!!

a - actions. what sort of things do they do to show they love their s.o?

for obi-wan, it would be in his every day actions. he's not all that big on grand gestures - can't be drawing attention to a relationship he's not supposed to be in after all - so it's reflected in the actions that show how well he knows you. like, he always flips the pillow before you come to bed so that it's cold, and when you have a particularly early start, he'll get up 20 minutes before you to make you breakfast

b - beginnings. how did the relationship begin? how has it changed?

i don't think obi would get into a relationship in the casual way -- he'd probably have to be in love with his best friend (that's u, ofc) and it would take a life threatening event for him to finally confess his love. not a lot would change, bc you're still best friends, but obviously there's the added closeness and love.

c - comfortable. how comfy are they with each other? peeing with the door open close, or would they rather keep the mystery?

he'd let you determine that. but also bc most of your time together is spent within your quarters, due to the natures of your job and the risk of people seeing, you're within close proximity a lot of the time so you're bound to be pretty comfortable around each other. you wanna burst into the refresher when he's in the shower cos you you had twice as much coffee as ur bladder can hold? he's not gonna stop you

d - dates. do they consider dates to be important? what kind do they prefer?

his favourite kind of dates are the ones where he gets to be close to you - whether that's wandering round the temple gardens after dark, or curling up in bed and watching a movie. if you ever get the chance to catch a break and escape to a far, far away planet, he'd definitely be up for something more grand.

e - engagement. how would they propose? who would even pop the question?

i don't think he would propose - more on that later - but if he did, it would be low key. even though there's like 0% chance of you rejecting him, he wouldn't want to put that pressure on you by making a big, public ordeal of the occasion

f - fundamental. for them, what is the most fundamental part of a relationship?

support & commitment. for obi-wan, he needs someone who's gonna be there for him through thick and thin; someone who will listen to him when he needs to vent and someone who will lay with him in bed when everything gets too much. he also needs someone who is committed and in it for the long run, bc he's lost so many people and can't face to see another go (especially by choice). of course, you get both things in return from him.

g - gratitude. how do they show their appreciation for you?

he just says it how it is. ten times a day really, but especially before bed - "have i ever told you how much i love and appreciate you?"

h - home. a random domestic headcanon.

he's terrible to share a bed with. you'll fall asleep on your respective sides of the bed, hands interlinked, and then get woken up two hours later by him spreading out on the whole mattress like patrick the goddamn star fish, forcing you onto the floor

i - infinite. do they believe their love is endless, or is there something that could break it?

obi-wan is both. if you turned to the dark side, or betrayed him or his cause, he could never forgive you, and the relationship would most certainly be over. it doesn't mean he'd stop loving you though - he couldn't ever do that. not even if he tried his hardest. so, his love is infinite but there are things that could make him turn away from you.

j - jokes. who's the funny one?

if you like dry humour, he's definitely the funny one, but with practical jokes and puns, that would be you.

k - kiss. how do they kiss? favourite type?

every morning before he goes to work, obi-wan will pull you towards him and give you a deep, breath-taking kiss; with one hand on your back and one on your neck, it'll be on your mind for the rest of the day. that's his favourite type of kiss.

l - longing. who's the clingy one? how are they with long distance?

neither of you, but also obi-wan sometimes. obi-wan becomes a thousand times clingier when he has nothing to do; if he's between missions and meetings, he'll stick to your side like a golden retriever. it's cute at first, but then when you can't even sit down for twenty minutes to do paperwork without him wrapping himself around you? that's when you drop the council a message and beg them to do something with him. anything.

m - marriage. do they wanna get married?

initially, obi-wan isn't all that bothered by marriage. he doesn't need a ceremony or a wedding to prove either person's commitment - and he just kind of assumes that all those vows and promises are a given, regardless of whether you have a legal document to hold you to your word.

but, if you're still together after order 66, when he's on tatooine? he'd never be opposed to it. if it's important to you, he'll respect that.

n - nicknames. what ones do they like?

he likes when you call him obi, and for you, it's either my darling or my love

o - over the top. are they ever ott? or are they more low-key?

maybe in battle, but obi-wan generally relies on subtle & low-key gestures rather than massive displays of affection.

p - picture. what's their favourite picture of them and their s.o?

there's a selfie you took on your second or third date (idk if selfies exist in the star wars universe but...we move). he has his arm around you, and you're pressing a kiss to his cheek. it's so simple, but it means everything to him.

q - quintessential. what is one they would refuse to compromise in their relationship? what's a deal-breaker for them?

again - the dark side. even if he breaks the code to be with you, obi-wan is going to a dedicated jedi til the day he dies and it's something he holds in a regard as high as his love for you. so, he could never, ever be with someone who ever went against what he believed in, or someone susceptible to slipping.

but if he did see the person he loved turning to the dark-side? he'd do everything in his fucking power to stop it. he'd lose sleep and risk his life to help you, but once you're gone, that's it. if he couldn't save you before, he knows there'd be no chance once you'd turned.

t - tattoo. would they ever get matching tattoos with their s.o, or a tattoo for them?

probably not a tattoo, but i don't think he'd be opposed to subtly engraving your initials on his lightsaber

u - understanding. how understanding are they? or are they a little difficult?

understanding KING. it doesn't matter what the issue is, he's gonna be there to listen and make you feel valid. even if you do something that irks him a little bit, he'd still have all the patience in the world.

v - vases. do they buy flowers?

all. the. time. sometimes for special occasions, sometimes just because

w - wandering. do they wanna travel? or immediately settle down?

before order 66, obi would love travelling with you, provided you both work in a similar field and he can make it look conspicuous. if it's after, he's not entirely enthusiastic about planet hopping when darth goddamn vader has it out for him, but he would absolutely love to settle down.

x - ex. how many exes do they have? any horror stories?

one word: satine.

y - you. favourite thing about their partner?

just...everything. he could never choose a favourite thing. he could say your eyes, and the way you sparkle when you laugh, but then he'd feel bad for forgetting your butt, and the little dimples in your hips, and the way your brow creases when your confused. see what i mean?

z - zeal. how excitable are they? who's the calm one?

he's definitely the calm one. he can be very enthusiastic in battle, but in other aspects of life, he has the chilled out aura of someone who has consumed a pound of the devil's lettuce

[gukyi]

if i told you | jjk

summary: in order to pay for university, jeon jungkook decides to market his most valuable asset to the wealthy socialites of campus: himself. donning a suit and tie, tousled hair, and glasses (to look smarter), he becomes every rich daughter’s dream: the perfect boyfriend to bring to balls, dinners, and business gatherings. all while you watch from the sidelines, only able to dream of having that much money to buy yourself what you really want: him.

{friends to lovers!au, college!au}

pairing: jeon jungkook x female reader genre: fluff, comedy, angst, we’ve got it all folks word count: 22k warnings: slightly underage alcohol consumption, mention of words that could be spoken on an crime documentary series but nothing graphic, ravioli-stealing, idiots to lovers, as per usual a/n: finally! here is the long awaited jungkook fic that i have literally been slaving over since the beginning of january. was this fic supposed to be 10k? yes. did i somehow end up writing 22k anyway? of course! in any case, please enjoy my absolute baby who i love and cherish!

check out the post-script drabble here!

Jeon Jungkook loses his job at the university call center on the seventeenth day of the fall semester of his sophomore year. 

You know this because on the seventeenth day of the fall semester of your sophomore year, he comes banging on the door of your apartment shared with three other girls at 2:07PM, seven minutes after he normally starts his job at the university call center. 

He’s lucky that you’re the only one who doesn’t have class in the 2PM hour. 

“Y/N!” He shouts through the thin wooden door, his voice probably echoing down the thin hallway of your apartment complex. 

You open it before the second knock—you only rush to the door to get him to shut the fuck up, and not because you’re excited to see him, you swear—to see him standing on the other side, XXL university hoodie draped over his figure, down to his mid-thigh, baggy hood pulled over his head like a sad college-aged Star Wars character. He looks exactly like a jaded sophomore year college student would. He is beautiful. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be at the call center right now?” You ask in lieu of a normal “hello” or even a “what the fuck are you doing here, it’s 2PM”. Jungkook does not wait for you to invite him inside your apartment, immediately kicks off his shoes by the entrance and tugs on your apartment slippers that are a size-and-a-half too small for his feet, and marches over to your shared fridge to fish through the tupperware containers with your name written on Post-it notes for a mid-afternoon snack. 

Jungkook waits until he’s got an entire piece of frozen supersized ravioli shoved into his mouth before he responds. “I was fired,” he says over a mouthful of pasta and cheese.

“What?” You ask, eyes widening as Jungkook shuffles through your kitchen drawers for a fork, which means that the first piece of ravioli that he ate he did so with his bare ass hands. Like a heathen. Like a ravioli-craving twenty-year-old heathen. 

“I was fired,” Jungkook repeats. He stares at the microwave resting on your kitchen counter for a good ten seconds before he continues to eat the cold, unheated pasta. Every time he’s in your apartment (which is frequently), he tells you how it’s a fire, water, and explosive hazard to have your microwave on the counter like that. As if there is any other place in your apartment for it to go. Maybe out on the tiny balcony you have that overlooks the busiest street on campus. 

“Care to offer an explanation as to why?” You ask, coming up next to him. Jungkook is nearly finished with your tupperware of ravioli, and normally you’d shout at him for it, but seeing as he was just fired from his only source of income as a money-starved college student, you’ll cut him some slack. Just a little. 

“You remember that old, angry alumnus that told me that asking for donations in order to benefit low-income-slash-first generation students was selfish and rude of me, and that I wouldn’t be in college if it weren’t for what his generation accomplished?” Jungkook asks. 

You remember that vividly. Jungkook spent an approximate two hours and thirty-seven minutes on FaceTime with you ranting about this one “old man bitch” who he had to speak to during his day at work, all while you did your economics problem set to the sweet, mellifluous sound of Jungkook’s shrill shrieks. 

“The one you lost your temper at and shouted at for being ungrateful and elitist?” You ask pointedly. You have a feeling you already know where this conversation is going. 

“Yeah,” Jungkook says with a roll of his eyes. He finishes the ravioli (goddamnit, now you’re going to have to find something else to eat for dinner at 11PM tonight) and turns around to place it in the sink. For once, it is not piled high with dishes from up to a week ago, so Jungkook even squirts a bit of Dawn onto a sponge and washes the plastic container for you. “Well, as it turns out, telling an old racist elitist that he’s old, racist, and elitist does not go down well with my boss.”

“Why does that not surprise me,” you muse. Jungkook sighs, walking over to where you’re taking it easy on the couch. “Oh no,” you say, eyes widening as he grins, plotting something. “Do not, Jungkook. Jungkook, do not!”

He jumps, catapulting himself onto the couch and landing on top of you with a thud. You let out a groan as the weight of his body hits you, foreheads nearly knocking into each other. Jungkook is a good foot-and-a-half too long for this dinky leather couch that’s always sort of smelled, feet and ankles hanging off the opposing arm rest just so he can nuzzle his face into the crook of your shoulder like he always does. You hate when he does this. Hate when he jumps onto the couch while you’re casually reclining just so he can collapse on top of you. Hate the feeling of his body resting against yours, soft breathes against the skin of your neck. Hate how it always makes you want more, how it will never be enough. 

“Have you been working out?” You mumble against the fabric of his t-shirt. “You’re more muscle-y than usual.”

“I added weights to my routine,” Jungkook tells you mindlessly. If your roommates walked into your apartment right now and saw the both of you on the couch, you’d never hear the end of it. “Taehyung said it would make me more swole.”

“As if you need to be any more buff,” you say with a roll of your eyes. Jungkook’s the most athletic person you’ve ever met in your entire life. He could probably pick up your dinky couch with you sitting on it without batting an eyelash. Even Superman would tremble at the sight of him. “You’re perfect the way you are.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” Jungkook mutters into your skin. “God, what the fuck am I gonna do now? I need money to pay for everything in my life and my one source of income is now totally invalid because an old guy got what he deserved.”

“Are there any work-study positions still available?” You ask, hand reaching up to stroke at his hair, smoothing it down. Jungkook’s preferred cuddling position is big spoon, but he still demands that he be coddled as though he were the little spoon. 

“No,” Jungkook says with a huff, “they’ve all been snagged by try-hard freshmen who need money like me.”

“I distinctly recall you being a try-hard freshman who also needed money,” you tell him. “That’s why you applied to work at the call center, isn’t it?”

Jungkook sits up, the weight of his figure crushing your legs as he rests on top of them. If you stayed like this forever, you’d probably lose feeling in your lower body, but you’d also get to stay with Jungkook forever, which is a trade-off you would genuinely consider. “Yeah, but the call center hires everybody. You just need to be like… decent at communication. And I’m pretty decent at communication.”

“You never text me back,” you tell him pointedly. 

“That’s because I prefer showing up unannounced at your apartment or other places you frequent,” Jungkook reminds you excitedly. He’ll never let you forget about the time you were wrapping up a small seminar with your history professor and Jungkook burst through the doors with a whole thing of carrots and hummus because you had texted him that you were hungry. You could not look your history professor in the eye for the rest of the semester. “I’d say that’s pretty decent communication.”

“Well, you’re going to have to figure out another way to market your decent communication skills to get another job,” you tell him. “Have you considered the boba place on Oak? You could get me employee discounts.”

Jungkook leans over just to pinch at your cheek, fingers gripping onto your face and pulling like a grandmother. “You just want me for my money.”

“You’re my best friend, Jeon Jungkook,” you tell him. “Of course I do.”

This is what Jeon Jungkook’s obligatory university Facebook group introduction post read:

Hi, I’m Jungkook and I’m thinking of majoring in visual studies or computer science (really different lol I know)! I played soccer in high school but don’t think I’ll be continuing in college because I was pretty bad at it. I’m looking for a roommate and I’d really like to live in New East House, but anything works for me as long as it has a bed. Hit me up if you think we’d made a good match, but I like talking with everyone lol. 

I’m really into music and can play the guitar, drums, and piano. I like listening to all types of music (yes, even country which slaps kinda hard sometimes) but my favorites are The 1975, Frank Ocean, Troye Sivan, and Khalid. Will bop to Justin Bieber on occasion as well. 

I play Ultimate and am really interested in joining the club team here so hit me up and we can practice sometime because my skills are a little rusty. I also do a little skateboarding but I am definitely not a skater. 

Hit me up if you think we can be friends lol I’m excited to meet you all!

It was accompanied by several pictures, a couple of which are selfies at that anime girl angle, one of him with his friends at prom all doing that Frat Boy pose, and a couple of him with his family. To an outsider doing a very quick glance, it pretty much reads the same as a rather extensive dating profile. 

The truth of it all is, as you were scrolling through the hundreds of obligatory university Facebook group introduction posts in search of a freshman year roommate, you stumbled upon Jungkook’s intro post and you thought this: No. Way.

The moment you laid eyes on his first above-the-head angle selfie, you knew that it would be unlikely that you and Jeon Jungkook’s paths would ever cross. He played guitar and did Ultimate Frisbee, and you wanted to audition for your university’s symphony orchestra. He was beautiful but in that sort of college frat boy who can crush you at beer pong kind of way. Craziest of all, he was a computer science major, and you were walking in as an undecided humanities concentration. 

Impossible. There was no way the two of you would ever meet, and you accepted that right off that bat. At a school your size, you would go through these four years not knowing a majority of your class. Jeon Jungkook was just one of the casualties. 

On the very first day of orientation, Jeon Jungkook comes up to you on the sidewalk, wearing a white t-shirt, a backwards baseball cap, and shorts, and asks you if you’re here for orientation as well? He’s lost. 

Jeon Jungkook is the type of guy you imagine getting eaten up by any girl who meets him almost immediately. He’s charming and endearing the same way a baby deer is, but has no problem wearing clothes that remind you of how fit he is. He is, for lack of a better term, extremely good looking. 

“Yeah,” you had said on the sidewalk, squinting to look up at him since the sun was in your eyes. “I’m heading to the auditorium right now. Wanna walk with me?”

“Okay, sure,” Jungkook had replied, smiling with all of his teeth. Even in the sweaty summer heat, he looked even nicer in person. “Thanks, by the way. I’m Jungkook. What’s your name?”

You knew that already. How could you have forgotten? 

You had grinned up at him. The universe has always worked in mysterious ways. “I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

When Jungkook doesn’t know what to do, he stress eats. Most often, you are the single witness to this action, which has literally no effect on his body mass whatsoever since he immediately burns off every calorie (and then some) at his next gym session. 

That is precisely why you are sitting in the second-best dining hall on campus eating a pretty measly salad and french fries, while Jungkook returns from the serve-yourself cafeteria with his sixth plate of food. Next to you is your mutual friend Chaewon, a filthy rich international student from Korea who is probably the nicest person you’ve ever met. 

“I think I’ve called every cafe, bubble tea shop, clothing store, and paid internship within a five-mile radius of this place and nothing,” Jungkook says with a sigh, keeping Chaewon updated with his job-search antics. It’s been several days since he was fired, and while being keenly cognizant of your bank account isn’t necessarily a bad thing, when it means that Jungkook refuses to leave campus because he is in hyper-saving mode, it sort of rustles your jimmies. 

“Have you tried babysitting?” Chaewon supplies helpfully. 

You laugh aloud at the mere thought of Jungkook stuck in some middle-aged parent’s house with their toddler for hours on a night where he could be living it up on campus. Jeon Jungkook? A babysitter?

“Wow, what the heck is wrong with me being a babysitter?” Jungkook questions, offended. 

“First of all, you don’t even let me beat you in Mario Kart on your Switch and I am your best friend. If you ended up gaming with a four-year-old boy, your over-competitiveness would take over you and you’d crush the poor kid and his spirit,” you remind him pointedly. Not to mention the fact that the man cannot cook to save his life, and you can’t even entrust him with microwave dinners because of his irrational fear of modern oven technology. 

Jungkook pouts. He knows you’re right. 

“It’s not like you were going to look into babysitting, anyway,” you say with a shove, nudging his shoulder with your own. 

Jungkook sighs, and despite all of the shit you give him on a daily basis (part of the responsibility of being his best friend), you do genuinely feel bad for him. Even if his job at the call center wasn’t the most intellectually stimulating nor morally rewarding, he didn’t absolutely hate it and he made a pretty decent earning off of it. He unzips his backpack and fumbles for his laptop, opening it up to reveal a Google Chrome window with approximately thirty-seven tabs open of places to work on and around campus. Meanwhile, Chaewon’s phone buzzes on the table, and she heaves out a great, exasperated exhale before picking up and immediately launching off into incredibly speedy Korean. 

“If only the bubble tea place was hiring,” you lament, kissing goodbye all of the free bubble tea you had been dreaming about if Jungkook got hired. 

“I’m glad I don’t work at the bubble tea place,” Jungkook tells you with his eyebrows raised, “otherwise I’d have to see you every day!” 

“You already see me every day!” You should back, but it’s not like Jungkook doesn’t know that already. He’s the one always barging into your apartment or sitting down next to you in the library when you’re trying to study. 

“But maybe you should try drinking less bubble tea, otherwise you’re gonna blow up like a tapioca pearl like that one girl from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory,” Jungkook warns, pinching your cheek as if to make your face round like a tapioca bubble. 

“I can think of nothing I’d want more than to be a tapioca pearl for the rest of my life,” you state simply. It would be much less stressful than to be a college student. 

“If you were a tapioca pearl, I’d eat you!” Jungkook says, and you, out of the security of both your head and your heart, choose not to think too much into it. 

As Jungkook teases you about your slight obsession with bubble tea, Chaewon finally puts the phone down after what very well was several minutes of angry Korean. She lets out this deep, long sigh, like all of the pent-up rage within her is exiting through her exhale. 

“You good, Chae?” You ask her, a little concerned. Even after knowing her since the beginning of your freshman year, you’ve never once seen her get mad, though she looks pretty close to it now. 

“Yeah,” she says, exasperated. “My mom is having this stupid company ball here and she really, really wants me to attend.” It is obvious that Chaewon does not, in fact, want to attend. You’ve seen Chaewon nearly every day for over a year, and you’ve never even seen her wear a pantsuit. You couldn’t imagine her joy at having to dress up in a ballgown. 

“But fancy free food,” you point out. Even if she does have to be trapped in a penthouse ballroom with her parents’ stuffy business friends, the catering company will probably be god-tier. 

Chaewon pretty much bangs her head on the dining hall table. 

“Wow, I didn’t know someone could hate catered food so much,” you say, a little alarmed. 

“It’s not that,” Chaewon says, rubbing her forehead. The pasta on the plate in front of her has remained untouched for nearly ten minutes now. You wonder if she’s even hungry anymore. “My mom wants me to bring a plus-one.”

Your eyes widen. An excuse to dress nice and eat good food? Hell yeah. 

“And it can’t be you, Y/N, it has to be a date,” Chaewon says. It’s pretty obvious she’s not interested in dating whatsoever, no matter the gender of the object of her affection. You pout. Damn. “My mom said, ‘he can be whoever you want!’ but that means that he has to be an attractive Korean guy who’s got a future job in finance.”

“I’ll go with you,” Jungkook says over a mouthful of broccoli. 

“You will?” Chaewon asks. Jungkook just single-handedly saved Chaewon from a night of unbearable business talk with a boy she doesn’t know and cannot relate to. 

You scoff. “You’re just a regular Korean dude, Jungkook,” you tell him. 

Jungkook pouts, bottom lip turned out. “You don’t think I’m attractive?”

You refuse to answer that question. You’re afraid of what you might say if you open your mouth. 

“Seriously, you’d do that for me?” Chaewon turns to Jungkook with platonic stars in her eyes. 

Jungkook shrugs. “Sure. I’ve got a suit. I’ll ask my friend Jimin for a crash course in finance before the thing. When is it?”

And just like that, you and Jungkook’s weekly Friday Mario Kart night gets a rain check. 

 Jeon Jungkook is the sole best decision of your life. 

And it’s funny and twisted and wonderful, because he is the one thing you had failed to account for in your life. He stands there on the sidewalk in the blazing sun, black baseball cap nestled safely onto his dark brown hair, and in the split second it takes for him to open his mouth and say hello, everything changes. 

But no longer is the image you conjure in your mind when you think of him a picture of him on that very first day of orientation, lost and excited all at once. It is of him barging into your apartment and eating all of your leftover ravioli. It’s him laying on your dinky couch like it belongs to him, surfing through all of the Netflix shows available and eventually just settling on old Gilmore Girls episodes like he always does. It’s him standing in your closet to judge your latest clothing purchases and take back any items that you’ve stolen from him over the years. 

It’s imagining him not as a guest but as a permanent fixture in your home, in the place that makes you feel safest. Because that’s who Jungkook is, now. He is that place. He stands in your apartment rattling off a list of why microwaves are a severely underestimated killer, and it takes every inch of your being not to ask him to stay. To spend night after night cuddling on the couch, or make a home-cooked meal together on a Sunday evening, or get lost underneath the sheets on your bed.

Jungkook stands in your apartment like he belongs there. And only in your wildest dreams could you ever imagine that coming true.

Such is the case of that Friday night, when he’s supposed to accompany Chaewon to her terrible, awful, brain-melting parents’ business gala. You haven’t seen him all day, too busy with your club meetings to make time for him after your classes are finished for the week. College is never-ending in that horrible, unstoppable way. 

It’s nearing two in the morning when you hear the knock on your door. Two of your roommates are at a rush event for their sorority, and the other sleeps through your smoke alarm on a regular basis, so you are tasked with the job of opening the door. 

On the other side is Jungkook, as he frequently is. 

Your heart practically freezes in place, like his eyes have shot right through it. Instead of his usual baggy outfit and a bucket hat, he’s standing outside of your apartment in a crisp navy suit (complete with a pocket square), rings lining his fingers and hair tousled in that effortlessly-styled kind of way. He looks like a goddamn celebrity, like a young, successful CEO. Like the love of your whole fucking life. 

Coughing to distract from the fact that you’re practically drooling, you say, “Wow, you clean up nicely.”

Jungkook looks down at himself, almost as if he had forgotten he’s wearing a full suit entirely. “The pocket square is Jimin’s,” he explains, “but yeah. I didn’t want to let Chaewon down by not dressing up to code.”

He’s got remnants of makeup left on his face, having faded and smudged throughout the night. There’s a bit of black underneath his eyes from the liner, a smoldering effect that makes the dark brown of his irises even deeper. “You look tired,” you comment. “Why are you here, why don’t you go home, Jungkook? Get some sleep.”

Jungkook shrugs, looking over your shoulder to see if his arrival has woken up any of your roommates. “Your place was closer,” he says like it’s nothing. 

Like it doesn’t make your breath catch in your throat, stop in its tracks. He spends an evening dressed up in a stuffy suit and tie surrounded by old businessmen and their preppy daughters with whom he has nothing in common, and when it’s nearly two in the morning and he can finally relax, he drives to your place instead of his own. Like it means nothing. As if it means anything at all. 

Jungkook runs a hand through his perfectly styled hair, and even knotted and messy it still looks flawless. “If I’m bothering you, just let me know. I know it’s late.”

It’s so hard to say no to him. 

“Just come inside already before you wake up the neighbors,” you tell him, sighing to pretend like it’s a minor inconvenience. And even running on barely any sleep with makeup smudged underneath his eyes, Jungkook grins as you let him inside your apartment, caving in, just like you always do. 

The first thing he does when he’s inside is take off his fancy loafers and peel off his suit jacket, resting it against the back of the couch. You fumble around in the kitchen for the kettle, instinctively starting to make two cups of tea. Routine. 

Looking up, you watch as Jungkook loosens his tie and takes it off, unbuttoning the first two buttons of his white dress shirt. By the counter, you turn your back to him so he doesn’t see you mentally combust. It’s impossible that he doesn’t already know what he does to you. 

The kettle finishes boiling the moment Jungkook settles onto your couch. He keeps the television off so he doesn’t wake your roommates, and scrolls on his phone with his knees tucked underneath his chin. Thirty seconds later, you’re joining him, handing him the cup of tea before sitting down next to him, severely underdressed in comparison. 

“Did you at least have fun tonight?” You ask. 

“The food totally slapped,” Jungkook tells you. “Chaewon’s parents really pulled out all the stops.”

“So I’ve heard,” you muse. 

“We spent most of the time lounging by the catering table and distracting each other by making up stories about all of the rich people there.” Jungkook laughs. 

“Please tell me you didn’t embarrass yourself, though,” you say. Perhaps Jungkook could withstand a few blows to his ego, but Chaewon’s future pretty much depends on her impressing her parents and their comrades. 

“No!” Jungkook tells you defensively. “Jimin told me everything I needed to know, but all of Chaewon’s friends and their filthy rich CEO parents thought I was so handsome that I didn’t even need to speak.”

You roll your eyes. Of course Jungkook wouldn’t give up the chance to remind you of his hellishly good looks. 

“You just stood there, looking pretty?” You ask. Not as if he doesn’t do that already. 

“You think I’m pretty?” Jungkook teases, a greasy smile sent your way, like he doesn’t know the answer anyway. 

You huff. “Dressed up like this? Anyone would.”

“Chaewon said I was like her fake trophy husband,” Jungkook jokes. “She did all of the schmoozing. It’s not like I could have contributed anything anyway. Unless everyone wants to hear about C++.”

“Ooh, I love it when you talk all tech to me,” you tease, nudging him with your arm. “So sexy, keep talking.”

He laughs. “If we keep talking about Python I might get a little too excited.” He wiggles his eyebrows just for good measure and you giggle, holding onto this moment for dear life as you let it etch itself into your brain permanently. Times like these, you know you can’t forget, saving them for a rainy day thirty years down the line when you’re in love with someone that’s not Jungkook. When you look out the window and think about what might have been, if only things back in college had been a little bit different. 

Jungkook’s phone buzzes on the table. He’s got two notifications, one from Instagram of Chaewon tagging him in a post, and another from Venmo. 

“Fuckin’ damnit,” Jungkook swears, letting his phone drop on the couch cushion. 

“What?” You ask, turning to look at him. 

“Chaewon just Venmo’ed me a hundred dollars,” Jungkook says with a sigh. And it’s not one of those times when you see your bank account balance go up and get happy because yay, money!, it’s when your friend pays you anything over what they actually owe you out of the goodness of your heart, and you refuse to accept it. 

“She did?” You ask, eyes widening. A hundred dollars? That’s more than Jungkook would make in three shifts at the call center. 

“‘Thanks for bailing me out tonight. You definitely deserve more than 100 but then you’d be mad at me. But please don’t be mad at me!’” Jungkook reads off his phone. “I just stood there looking like eye candy. I didn’t do a thing to help her, what the heck?”

You pull out your own phone to check Chaewon’s latest post. 

It’s a picture of them together in the skyscraper penthouse the gala was held in, Jungkook looking dapper in his suit with a glass of champagne in his hand, and Chaewon in a dress worth more than a semester’s tuition throwing up a peace sign like the trendy Asian she is. They look like a K-drama couple. Like two celebrities basking in their fame and wealth. 

Shoutout to my one and only Jeon Jungkook for being my fake date tonight! Thanks to your good looks and charming personality for impressing all of my parents’ rich friends and their daughters. Love you 3000 💕

“Wow, whoever took this picture of the both of you knows their shit,” you say, impressed. You had always thought it impossible for Jungkook to look better in pictures than in real life, but this photo is coming rather close. If you were any more shameless, you’d ask Chaewon if she has any more photos of him. Just him, preferably. 

It’s not as if she doesn’t know about your gargantuan crush on him anyway. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever looked that good in a photo in my life,” Jungkook says with a laugh. Impossible. He yawns, placing his empty mug on the little end table next to the couch. 

“You should set it as your profile picture,” you suggest, leaning your head on him and pretending like this is normal. He yawns again, stretching out as he rests his body against yours. “Hey, we should go to sleep. Unless you want to go home?”

Jungkook groans, snuggling in closer. “No, your bed is big enough for the two of us.”

And who are you to resist?

You wake up to the sound of a phone buzzing furiously on your bedside table. You crack open one eye just a sliver to see who the culprit is and immediately eradicate it, when the sun filtering through your Venetian blinds hits your cornea. You groan, shutting your eyes once more as you smack your hand around to get it to shut off. 

The movement, however, causes the bedsheets to shift beside you, and when you turn, you find Jungkook nestled up tightly beneath your duvet, an arm stretched over your side as he hums in his sleep. 

You’re best friends. 

This is normal. 

(The feeling of your heart beating out of its chest has become rather normal, as well.)

He’s wearing a raggedy old t-shirt of yours that has always been too big on you but fits him just perfectly and a pair of joggers that he keeps at your place “just in case”. Just in case he stays the night. Just in case you ever need them. Selfishly, you will yourself to fall back asleep, shutting your eyes tightly and pretending that maybe, if you never wake up, this moment will freeze in time, locking the two of you together for eternity. 

He mumbles to himself in his sleep, a murmur of nothing as he shifts over slightly, hand dragging up your side. 

God. 

Next to you, the phone begins to buzz erratically again, and wide-awake, you look over to realize that it’s Jungkook’s, and that it’s Chaewon on the other end. 

This is at least the second time she’s called, which means that, despite how tempting it is, you probably shouldn’t silence his phone and go back to lying in bed with Jungkook and pretending the rest of the world doesn’t exist. 

Sighing, you pick up. 

“Jungkook!” Chaewon shouts on the other side. For a brief moment you wonder why on earth she’s so energetic so early, but it’s less that and more the fact that you are overwhelmingly lethargic rather late in the day. “All of my friends said you looked really good in those photos I posted of us. Do you think you’re free next Wednesday night? Seunghee wants you to accompany her to a double date her parents are forcing her to go on!”

“Chaewon—”

“Oh, Y/N! How’s it going?”

“I just woke up,” you mumble quietly as Jungkook stirs beside you. 

“Of course you did,” Chaewon says, and you can see her rolling her eyes on the other side of the line. “Wait, why do you have Jungkook’s phone if you just woke up? Oh my God, don’t tell me—”

“Shh!” You hiss into the phone. Jungkook is slowly beginning to wake up, and you can only pray that he isn’t listening in to the conversation between you and Chaewon. “No, we did not. He got back after your thing and we promptly passed out in my bed, fully clothed,” you whisper loudly. 

“Jungkook went to your place last night? He was so tired, I thought he was going straight back to his. We even got dropped off outside my apartment.”

What? Chaewon and Jungkook live within a three-minute walk of each other. Your apartment is ten minutes away from both of them. 

“You did?” You ask, eyebrows furrowing. 

“Who’s that?” 

You turn around to see Jungkook lying on his back, head resting on a nearly-deflated pillow of yours as he looks up at you, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His hair is mussed, some parts styled and stiff with hair gel, and some parts tangled and unkempt. He looks like he’s been lying in that position for a while, hand resting behind his head as he gazes up at you. 

“It’s Chaewon,” you tell him softly as she laughs on the other end. “She just called your phone. Are you free next Wednesday?”

“Hmm?” Jungkook, still half-asleep. “When?”

“Next Wednesday,” you repeat, a hand on the phone like it’s going to do anything to stop Chaewon from listening to you two. “Chaewon says she has a friend who wants you to accompany her to a double date she’s been set up to go on by her parents.”

“Mmmrph,” Jungkook mumbles. It’s clear he hasn’t even thought about his plans for the rest of the day, let alone next Wednesday. 

“He’s not available right now,” you say into the phone. Chaewon snorts. 

“Fine,” Chaewon says with a sigh. “Can you pass the message on when you guys are done pretending that you aren’t fucking behind my back?”

You suck in a breath. “Chaewon!” You hiss. “We are not—” you quickly turn back to Jungkook, who, by the looks of his hooded eyes and bewildered expression, isn’t listening in, “—fucking!” You whisper. “You know we’re not!”

Chaewon laughs. “Yeah, yeah. Call me later, Y/N, we should grab ice cream or something.” She hangs up. 

“Who was that?” Jungkook asks sleepily, eyes still half-lidded as he sits up in your bed, soft skin, brown hair, pouted lips amongst a sea of white, bundled up in your thick duvet as if sitting on a cloud. 

“Chaewon,” you tell him. 

“Oh, why was she calling?”

“She wanted to ask if you were free next Wednesday.”

“To do what?”

Maybe you were worried about Jungkook listening in to Chaewon grill you about your relationship (or serious lack thereof) for nothing. 

“She has a friend who wants you to go on a parent-mandated double date, trophy boyfriend style,” you explain. Jungkook groans. 

“Pretending to know business is mentally, physically, and morally draining. It feels like I’m selling my soul to capitalism,” he says with a sigh, collapsing back against the mattress. “I just wanna stay here forever. It’s so cozy.”

“Come on, Kook,” you say, tugging the duvet off of him to reveal the rest of his body. He curls into himself at the exposure, refusing to budge. “You’ve encroached on my apartment long enough.”

“Y/N,” Jungkook whines, drawing out your name for good measure. “Noooooooo.” He reaches out to cling onto your wrist, which means that if you want him out of your bed, you’ll have to drag him out.

“Jungkook, you’re swole, you know I can’t tug you out of my bed,” you say with a pout. He knows every trick in the book to use against you, and worst of all, he knows you’re weak to all of them. 

“Good,” Jungkook says with a loopy smile, pulling you back onto the bed like it’s nothing. You yelp as you come crashing on top of him, your body bumping into his as he wraps his arms around you and flops back onto your bed. You laugh and shout at the feeling as Jungkook cuddles up in the warmth of the sheets, pulling you in tightly to his body. “It’s so warm here, let’s stay like this forever.”

“What about food?”

“You keep a stash of Clif bars under your bed, we’ll eat those,” Jungkook suggests. 

You attempt to wriggle out of his grip, hoping to escape before he holds you long enough to get addicted, hooked on the feeling of his arms around you, his body against yours. But Jungkook is nothing if not persistent and clingy, and he wraps his arms tightly around your torso like a koala, warm and soft. “Come on, Jungkook. It’s nearly noon. Let’s be productive today.”

“Gross.”

“Let’s not sit in bed all day.”

“Grosser. Let’s just stay in your bed all day and pretend that we don’t have any real responsibilities.”

“Given that we’re in college, that may be slightly difficult.”

“Fuck that, your GPA doesn’t matter anyway. Unless you have plans on going to grad school?” He asks with an eyebrow raise, turning to look at you. 

“No way, I’m not paying for another four years of this shit,” you immediately declare. Let the capitalist system of higher education extort another two to four years worth of tuition out of you for the same degree? Absolutely not. 

“Then why move?” Jungkook says with a grin. 

“Because,” you say, stumbling for a real answer. 

“Not good enough.” He grins cheekily. “I vote to stay in bed.”

“I vote to do my readings, your CS homework, and get back to Chaewon about Wednesday.”

“God,” Jungkook says with a sigh. “What’s Wednesday?”

“Oh my God, you need to call Chaewon. Right now. Before you ask me what you have on Wednesday one more time after losing all of your brain cells lounging around in my personal bed and refusing to leave,” you say, eyes wide as you worm your way out of his grip, dusting yourself off and heading to your closet. 

“Noooooooo,” Jungkook says, reaching out a desperate hand. “Y/N, come back.”

“Call Chaewon. Call her!” You order, fishing around in your closet for some fresh clothes. You’ve been wearing the same one since Thursday night. You are disgusting. 

Jungkook groans but obeys, picking up his phone and pressing her contact. “Hey Chae, it’s Jungkook. Listen, I’m literally going to Venmo you back what you paid me because you? Literally didn’t need to pay me at all? And I’m actually mad at you for it? Wait, what do you mean am I up to getting paid on Wednesday—”

The phone call presents the perfect opportunity for you to dash out of your bedroom and into the bathroom, where you splash yourself with cold tap water like a model in a face wash commercial (who already has perfect skin, so why does she need this new face wash, seriously?) to clear your head. It’s been a weird twelve hours. Even weirder knowing that across the hall, Jungkook is sitting in your room, on your bed, in your clothes, under your bed sheets. Knowing that maybe, in another universe, on another timeline, you would be in the exact same positions, only everything would be different. 

You wash your face, hoping to wake yourself up. Convince your mind that the past twelve hours have been nothing but a dream, and that when you walk back into your room, Jungkook will have vanished. Or he would have never been there in the first place. 

You leave the bathroom and return to your bedroom to see Jungkook tugging on his suit jacket, wearing the same clothes he had on when he knocked on your door at 2AM last night. He’s still on the phone, wrapping up the conversation with Chaewon. 

“Yeah, yeah, tell her that I’m down. She can just text me, give her my number. I’m happy to do this for you and your friends, Chae. Plus, she’s gonna pay me and I feel less bad about it because it’s a service and she’s not a close friend like you are. Yeah, it’s all good,” he looks up to see you standing at the door, leaning against the frame. “Yeah, Y/N just got back so I’m gonna go. Maybe we can grab dinner or something tonight? Cool. Bye.”

“Dinner without me?” You ask with a pout. 

“Never,” Jungkook says wickedly. “You’re always invited.”

“Have you figured out what’s going on on Wednesday?” You tease him as you walk him to the door. 

“Chaewon has a friend, Soojin, who wants me to accompany her on a parent-mandated double date with a business partner’s daughter,” Jungkook explains. “Apparently all of Chaewon’s friends realized I make a pretty good fake trophy boyfriend.”

You rub his shoulder. He’d make a great real boyfriend too. Not that you think about that all of the time, or anything. “Gonna put that on your resume, big guy?”

“Of course.” Jungkook smiles. “Dinner tonight? We can go to the ramen place you really like.”

“Sure thing, is Chaewon coming?”

“If she wants to. Otherwise, it’ll just be us.”

“Sounds good,” you tell him. “See you then.”

“Hopefully before,” Jungkook says. “Thanks for letting me crash here last night, by the way.”

“Anytime,” you say. Maybe one day, it’ll be true. 

Next Wednesday, there’s a knock on your door at midnight. 

Who else could it be?

It was supposed to be a one-time thing. And then it was supposed to be just a two-time thing. And before you knew it, Jungkook’s number and his services were circling through the ring of wealthy international students, jumping from phone to phone as people crammed to get him to accompany them on their next double date, next business gala, next ballroom dance. 

You had always had a feeling that his charming, charismatic personality would eventually draw everybody towards him, so electric and magnetic that you couldn’t help but want to know him, make friends with him, be close to him. From the moment you saw his Facebook introduction post, you knew it was only a matter of time before everyone on campus knew his name.

[October 17th, 4:12PM] You: do u want to get dinner tonight

Jungkook: would love to but have to go to kim family business dinner with dahyun sorry :(

You: ok next time then!

[October 23rd, 1:03PM]

You: yo what r u doing You: i have so many readings to do rip You: do u wanna come to greene w me and study

Jungkook: heejin is taking me shopping for a fancy suit for her family’s event tomorrow i can’t :/ Jungkook: but i am going to get macaroons for u at the mall so we can see each other later!

You: yummm sure thing!

[October 30th, 9:58AM]

You: hey ik you’re asleep rn but we are still on for tomorrow right? 🎃 You: can’t let our one (1) year long halloween tradition of buying last-minute candy and watching the nightmare before christmas together die

[October 30th, 11:13PM]

Jungkook: omg i just saw this now im so sorry Jungkook: uh yeonjoo wants me to go to her sister’s halloween party tm so idk if i can make it this year

[October 31st, 2:02AM]

You: ok You: thanks for telling me

It’s no fun watching The Nightmare Before Christmas by yourself, you realize this Halloween. All of your roommates are out frequenting one of the hundreds of parties being thrown on campus tonight, and although you’d normally be up for getting drunk and dropping it low, you just aren’t in the Halloween spirit this year. Wonder why. 

Armed with the knowledge that your roommates probably won’t be back until three or four in the morning, you shut your laptop and decide to go to bed early. Early being midnight, but it’s early for you and that’s all that really matters. 

You don’t know why you’re being such a stick in the mud this Halloween. It’s always been one of your favorite holidays, never one to pass up free candy nor the option to dress up, but this one has been particularly lame. You don’t have a costume, your local drugstore is out of mini Skittles packets, and you don’t have someone to spend it with. 

Realistically, you have no reason to be sad that Jungkook isn’t available tonight. It’s not as if spending Halloween together is some ancient tradition from birth that binds the two of you together. You did it for the first time as freshmen, and you were foolishly hoping to do the same thing as sophomores. It’s not a tradition if it only happened once. 

You look in the bathroom mirror, stained with nail polish and dry shampoo and old skincare, and you sigh. Jungkook has every right to prioritize his current and only source of income over a night spent lounging on the couch doing nothing. It’s not as if you haven’t seen your best friend in over a month and this was the only night you both had free. Jungkook drops by after every single event he goes on. Every single one. He stands outside your door dressed in a fancy suit, or a silk button down, leather shoes and expensive jewelry bought for him by the girls he goes out with.

No matter the time, he knocks on your door and says hello, steals a cup of tea and a bit of your heart along with it, before bouncing out of your living room and off to his own apartment. He doesn’t stay the night anymore, doesn’t worm his way underneath your duvet and refuse to move until morning comes. It’s hard to tell if you’re grateful about it or not. 

Sluggishly, you peel off your clothes and wash your face, changing into some old sweatpants from the tenth grade and a t-shirt with an embarrassingly large hole in the armpit. This Halloween, you are dressing up as a lonely college student who is going to bed early on Halloween night because she has nothing better to do!

There’s a knock on your door. 

Your first instinct is to freeze up. When there’s another knock, your second instinct is to grab the closest object to you (which happens to be your water bottle) for self-defense. 

And then, you hear,

“You’re not watching The Nightmare before Christmas without me, are you?”

To spare yourself the shame, you won’t say that you practically leapt out of bed the moment you heard his voice. You calmly removed the covers, and casually walked to the front door. That is what you did. 

When you open it, Jungkook is standing behind it, grinning, wearing the greasiest police officer outfit you’ve ever seen in your entire life. This flew at a marketing company’s heir’s Halloween party? He’s even got what looks to be a fully-loaded water gun in his holster. 

“Don’t tell me this is what you wore to some fancy-shmancy Halloween party,” you say disapprovingly, eyebrows raised as you look him up and down and pretend that you aren’t just ogling his figure. 

“It was fine, Yeonjoo’s sister just graduated college. If anything, she was more okay with it than Yeonjoo was,” Jungkook says with a shrug. You don’t even need to let him in at this point, just watch as he tugs off his shoes and steps inside your apartment like it belongs to him. 

“What was Yeonjoo dressed as?”

“Princess Leia. We made for a very mismatched pair,” Jungkook says, chuckling to himself. “Ooh, did you guys get new tea?”

“You can have some if you want,” you tell him, shutting the door as he eagerly pulls out a box of teabags, turning on the electric kettle on the counter. “I think it’s Wild Berry Hibiscus.”

“Sounds good already,” Jungkook says, and he lets out a sigh that sounds so exhausted, so tired and aching, as he leans back against the countertop, head resting on the cupboards above it. 

“You could have gone home, you know,” you tell him. Even from the couch you can see the droop in his shoulders, the bags under his eyes. He’s been going out several times every week for the past month, and he still has a truckload of CS assignments on top. He spends precious hours schmoozing with wealthy businessmen and women, shaking people’s hands and posing for pictures in the fanciest clothes he owns and then some. The selfish part of you wants him to stay. The part that loves him knows it would be better if he went home. “You still can.”

“No,” Jungkook insists, shaking his head. “We have a tradition to uphold, don’t we?”

Even though The Nightmare Before Christmas is seventy-six minutes long, the night ends long before that. You haven’t even reached “This Is Halloween” before you feel a head hit your shoulder, and crane your neck to find Jungkook having fallen fast asleep beside you, half-full cup of Wild Berry Hibiscus next to the laptop in front of you. He’s still wearing his stupid police officer costume, the navy blue uniform tight against his body. His lips are parted ever so softly, eyelashes fluttering as little non-sounds exit his mouth, hints, whispers of snores. 

He hasn’t slept over since the first time. You’re not sure if you want the trend to continue, or if you just want to be a little bit selfish tonight, greedy, taking and taking and taking. He’s so beautiful like this, so innocent and gentle and soft. It would be such a shame if you had to wake him. 

And so, gingerly, you rest your head against his own, breathe in the quiet little sounds that leave his parted lips, memorize the feeling. It’s not the first time Jungkook’s accidentally fallen asleep on you, but there is something about this moment, sitting on your couch a few minutes past midnight, as the rest of the world celebrates around you, that is so intimate. Like here, in your apartment, you and Jungkook have your own little bubble, tucked away in a corner of the universe far from the noise of the rest of the world. And it’s here that you wish you could stay forever, for once never wanting the feeling to end. Wanting time to freeze in its very steps, the clocks stop and the orbit halts, and it is just you and Jungkook, forever. Like characters in a movie, on pause for eternity.

The moment ends when Jungkook shifts beside you before eventually coming to, slowly opening his eyes as he turns to look at you. You smile at him, dazed and tired, as he sits up properly, staring down at your half-opened laptop and the half-full cup of tea next to it. 

“Thought you’d end up sleeping here again tonight,” you joke, even though it isn’t really a joke. Maybe, somewhere deep down inside you, in the crevices between your bones and the dark corner of your heart, you had hoped that he would stay. 

“Oh, did I fall asleep?” Jungkook asks, blinking away the sleep in his eyes. It’s nearly two-thirty in the morning. 

“Just for a bit. I didn’t want to wake you, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted to head back to your apartment or anything,” you tell him. 

Jungkook nearly jumps up off the couch at that, like he’s got springs in his shoes. Suddenly he’s wide awake, brown eyes blown open as he scrambles to gather his belongings, taking the cup of tea and quickly dumping it out in your sink. 

“Hey, don’t you want that?” You ask. 

“No, no, it’s okay. I’ll come by some other time and have some, it was really good, I just fell asleep while drinking it,” Jungkook sputters, words moving a mile a minute as he tugs on his heavy black officer boots, scuffed at the tips from wear and tear. It’s as if he’s desperate to leave. Like your apartment has somehow offended him. Or worse, you. 

“If you want to stay, Jungkook, you can,” you tell him, standing up to run to the door before he pulls the damn thing off his hinges with how fast he’s moving. “I don’t mind. My bed is big enough for the both of us.”

“No, I should—I should get going. My… plants need watering. Right now. I totally forgot.”

It’s not a completely bullshit excuse. Jungkook has a fair few pothos amongst his other worldly apartment belongings, hanging from his ceiling or potted in old mugs and janky shoes. But it’s still a pretty bullshit excuse. It’s dark. Jungkook waters his plants every Sunday, and it’s Friday. It’s obvious he wants to get the hell out of your apartment for whatever reason. 

All you can do is hope and pray that it isn’t you who’s driving him away. 

“Oh—okay,” you tell him, opening the door as he furiously laces up his other boot. 

“Thanks for doing this. Next Halloween will be more fun, I swear. I won’t fall asleep on you. Or anything.”

“Okay, see you soon, then?” You ask, searching for a clue, a hint, anything that will tell you that it’s not you, that he hasn’t found you out yet. That you can still be friends, be best friends, because even if you want to kiss him, hold his hand, roll around in bed with him, loving him from afar is good enough. 

“Yes, yes, definitely. Dinner? Uh… sometime this week? I’ll text you. I have to go. Plants. See you!”

He dashes down the hallway. 

And you end your Halloween the same way you started it. Alone. 

Jungkook ran out of your apartment the other day like it was infested with cockroaches. Or the Black Plague. Or your microwave had just beeped. It was as if simply being inside it was going to scar him for life. 

Maybe your apartment is cursed. Jungkook does believe in ghosts. That’s another reason as to why he fears the microwave. Tiny ghosts could be living inside the microwave chamber and you’d never know. But Jungkook knows better. He knows that they’re there. 

“He just… ran out?” Chaewon asks, clearly bewildered. The two of you have been working on the first floor of the library all day, obviously doing everything in your power to not actually complete any of your assignments. 

“Yeah, something about his plants.” You sigh. 

Chaewon narrows her eyes, the same way she does when she’s plotting something. “Interesting.”

“What?” You ask, nudging her to see if you can worm a less mysterious response out of her. 

“Nothing,” Chaewon says with a nonchalant shrug. She clearly has something to say. 

“What?” You repeat forcefully. Chaewon doesn’t get to go all cryptic on you just because Jungkook ran out of your apartment like it had set fire. 

“I know I’ve only known you guys for, like, a year and a bit now, but you two have the strangest relationship I’ve ever seen,” Chaewon comments like it’s nobody’s business when it is, in fact, specifically two people’s business. 

You scowl. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just…” She pauses, thinking. In the silence, she begins to pack up her belongings, shoving her laptop into her bag and gathering up the small pile of candy wrappers slowly amassing in front of her. “I’ve never seen two best friends have a relationship quite like yours.”

“Thanks?”

“What are you doing for dinner? I’m eating with Yoonji, but you’re welcome to join if you want,” Chaewon offers. Even though you have no idea who Yoonji is, Chaewon would never exclude you from eating with them.

“I’m getting Korean food with Jungkook, but thanks for the offer,” you say, only to be greeted with Chaewon rolling her eyes. He said he’d meet us outside?”

Sure enough, when you head out of the glass doors at the front of the library, Jungkook is waiting dutifully on a bench close by, headphones in as he nods his head and taps his feet to the beat of the music, lost in his own world. He doesn’t even realize that you’ve left the library until you’re two feet in front of him, when he recognizes your beat-up white sneakers and looks up at you in glee, eyes crinkled into crescents. 

“Ready to go?” You ask happily. Your stomach has been rumbling ever since Jungkook suggested you go out to eat this morning. 

“Hell yeah I am,” Jungkook says, putting his earbuds away as he stands up. “You coming, Chae?”

She shakes her head. “No, I’m eating with a friend.” There’s nudge against your shoulder, and when you turn to face her, she winks. “But you two enjoy yourselves! Don’t have too much fun without me!”

Before you can publicly berate her for being so goddamn obvious, she’s rotating 180 degrees on her heel and speed-walking in the opposite direction, zooming off so you don’t get the chance. 

“I feel like we haven’t seen each other in ages,” you comment mindlessly. Twenty-four hours away from Jungkook feels like a lifetime and a half. Forty-eight is a light year. 

“I’ve been busy,” Jungkook says vaguely, shrugging his shoulders. 

“Doing what, going out to fancy restaurants and galas?” You half-tease. It’s sad but true—Jungkook spends his nights living a life you could only dream of. And all of these rituals you share, from studying in the library until three in the morning to crashing at his place and taking naps on separate couches, get put on the backburner. 

“Hey, it’s hard work pretending to be rich,” Jungkook pouts. “Besides, the craziest thing about going to those things is that rich Korean people don’t serve Korean food at their fancy gatherings. They serve shit like caviar.”

“Is that why you’re so desperate to get Korean?” You ask pointedly. 

“Yes,” Jungkook emphasizes. “Man, I just want some tteokbokki.”

“Then we’ll go and eat all of the tteokbokki you can dream of,” you promise. You round the street corner and on the edge of the main road and an alleyway sits a tiny Korean restaurant the size of a bedroom, no more than six cramped tables inside. It’s run by a family who passes it down through each generation, dependent on the starving college students nearby to keep it alive. 

It’s Jungkook’s favorite place. The owner gives him a discount every time he sees him. 

(It’s impossible not to fall in love with Jungkook. Impossible to not be drawn to his presence, his personality. Like moths to a flame, you can’t help but come closer.)

“Ah, Jungkook!” The old man behind the counter greets as the bell above the entrance rings. “Sit! Sit!” He points to your favorite table, a round one in the far left corner that’s right next to the biggest window. “Usual?”

“Tteokbokki, too, please!” Jungkook shouts. The man gives you both a thumbs up and heads back into the kitchen. 

“It’s been a while since we came here,” Jungkook notices. You both usually eat lunch on campus and Jungkook has been largely unavailable for dinner. 

“Almost sounds like you missed it,” you poke fun. 

“God, I missed it so much,” Jungkook exclaims, tilting his head back in exasperation. “I didn’t realize that it would be so much work to get dressed up in a suit and look hot.”

“Don’t make it sound like such a drag.” You frown. Jungkook needs to put in literally zero effort to look hot. Sitting across from him in this tiny Korean restaurant as he wears nothing but a massive hoodie and black joggers, he looks hot. When he wakes up in your bed in a raggedy t-shirt, he looks hot. When you catch him at three in the morning in the library after eighteen straight hours of studying, he looks hot. 

Jungkook sits there and radiates light. Radiates warmth and joy and beauty. Laughter and hope. He’s the college version of a Disney prince. Perfectly imperfect and completely out of your reach. 

“I wish I could take you with me, you might enjoy it,” Jungkook sighs. “Plus, I have literally never seen you wear something fancier than business casual. Imagine you in a ballgown!”

“In your dreams, Jeon,” you rebuke. “Free catered food sounds nice but having to mingle with the 1% does not.”

“Touché,” Jungkook concedes. “I don’t know how Chaewon does it.”

“She’s a goddess.”

“Indeed.”

Jungkook pours you a cup of water from the pitcher that the old man dropped off, and then pours one for himself. “Chaewon said that I did well, though.”

Not surprising. Jungkook excels at everything he does. 

“Of course you did, you sexy beast,” you chide. 

“She said I’d make a good boyfriend.”

You choke on your water as the man’s son brings out your food, and you desperately attempt to avoid eye contact as you sputter and cough into a napkin, gaze pointed away from both a surprised waiter and a concerned Jungkook, who awkwardly thanks the man and leans over to pat your back. 

“You good?” He asks, brows furrowed. 

Coughing, you say, “I’m okay, I’m okay. It just—it went down the wrong pipe, that’s all.” Jungkook doesn’t buy it, and the little coughs escaping your throat don’t do much to corroborate your claim. “Seriously, Jungkook. I’m okay. It’s just water.”

“You looked like you were on the verge of death,” Jungkook frowns. 

“That’s just my face,” you fire back. “Just keep talking about what you were saying earlier. What was it?”

“Being a good boyfriend,” Jungkook says, and with no water near your lips to distract you this time, your mind bears the full force of his words, weighing down on your shoulders like a calculus textbook. 

It’s not as if you aren’t already aware that Jungkook would be the best boyfriend in the entire world, bar none. Not as if you don’t sit in bed and dream of a parallel universe, a life other than the one you’re living in right now, where Jungkook is lovely and wonderful and yours. He knocks on your door at a random hour in the afternoon with Chinese takeout from the local restaurant. He remembers your homework assignments when you forget them. He sits in bed with you and judges the Instagrams of the guys on the latest Bachelorette season. It’s as if he was already yours.

“Believe me,” you scoff. “The people know how great of a boyfriend you are.” 

“It’s fake, though,” Jungkook reminds you. “It’s only for a night. An evening, really.”

“Better than nothing,” you sigh. “If only I had enough money to rent myself a fake boyfriend for a night.”

“If only your parents were the CEOs of a multibillion dollar cooperation,” Jungkook adds on. 

“Truth,” you say, and you and Jungkook toast to that. Toast to knowing that some people are born with a silver spoon in their mouths. Toast to knowing that some of those people can get for themselves something you can only imagine in your wildest dreams—a night with Jungkook. More than just a night. A night spent dressed up in your fanciest clothes, arms wrapped tightly around each other. A night spent as a couple, rather than you and Jungkook. 

Toast to knowing that even if you’ll never get to have him like that, you get to have him like this, and you’d rather it be like this than nothing at all. 

“You don’t need to rent a fake boyfriend for a night, Y/N,” Jungkook tells you once you’ve downed the water in your glasses (stay hydrated!). “You shouldn’t feel pressured to spend time with people you don’t want to spend time with.”

You don’t understand, you sigh. I’d give anything to spend time with you. 

Jungkook pays. He says that he’s made more money accompanying wealthy socialites—even ones that don’t go to your school, because word gets around—than he would in a month’s worth of shifts at the call center. He says he’s never looking back. He’s probably not going to give up the gig for a while, either. 

“Just because you have cash now doesn’t mean you get a free pass to pay for everything we do together,” you warn. You’ve always split the price of meals, split the price birthday cakes for your friends. In the beginning of freshman year, Jungkook ate a quarter of a bag of goldfish you had and paid you fifty-three cents to account for his consumption, which you immediately sent back to him. You still fight over it, finding surreptitious ways to incorporate it into the Venmo payments you make to each other. 

“I’m rich, I can do whatever I want with my money,” Jungkook proclaims. “And if that means treating my best friend to a meal, then that means I’m gonna treat her to a meal.”

“That’s very rude of you,” you tell him pointedly. “Zero out of ten, worst best friend in the entire world. Will not accept my Venmo payments.”

Walking down the sidewalk, side by side, Jungkook wraps an arm around you and pulls you in for a side hug as you come to a stop at a traffic light. “You always do so much for me and Chaewon. You deserve to be treated once in a while, Y/N.”

“Why, ‘cause I go out to CVS at ten at night to get you Nyquil after you catch the common cold from some sweaty guy at the gym?” 

“That,” Jungkook nods, conceding, “and also because you’re one of the best friends anyone could ever ask for. The people who know you are lucky to get to say your name.”

If only Jungkook knew that he was the exact same. It’s an honor to know him. It’s a blessing to love him. 

“What fancy clothes do you own?” Chaewon’s lying on your bed, scrolling mindlessly on her phone. 

“I don’t know,” you respond, brows furrowing. You get up from your desk chair to start fishing through your closet,  “I have, like, some business casual stuff.”

“How about a dress?”

You whip around suspiciously, eyeing Chaewon as she lounges around in your room and acts like she isn’t plotting something nefarious. “Don’t you think you could tell me what you’re trying to convince me to do before you ask me if I have the appropriate clothing?” 

Even lying on her back, Chaewon still manages to roll her eyes, sitting up to meet your gaze. “There’s a gala tonight to celebrate some big business deal being closed and I want you to come with me,” she says like it’s a chore, exasperated. 

“Me?” You frown. “Why not Jungkook?”

“He said he had some thing to do for some other girl,” Chaewon says. The topic clearly is not at the forefront of her mind. It’s a little too obvious that it’s at the forefront of yours. “Besides, I was given no date restrictions and you deserve to have a little fun tonight. It’s a Friday!”

“I just want to stay in bed and play Legend of Zelda,” you tell her. 

“You’re already out of bed,” Chaewon points out unhelpfully. 

“Well, then I want to get into bed and play Legend of Zelda,” you rephrase. 

Chaewon pouts. “Noooo, please? It’ll be fun, I swear,” Chaewon pleads.  “It’s a huge party and hundreds of people are going to be there. Everybody gets to bring a plus one. You won’t be the only person who doesn’t know anything about business and has to cling onto their date in order to survive.”

“Gee, thanks. That makes me want to go so much,” you deadpan. 

“Seriously, Y/N. When was the last time you went out on a Friday?”

A while ago. You and Jungkook started having Mario Kart nights on Friday in the middle of your freshman year after you both came to the conclusion that every frat party smells, sounds, and tastes like the same fifty shades of college regret. You haven’t gone out since. 

“Not that long ago,” you lie. It’s been months.

“Yeah, right,” Chaewon scoffs. “Don’t think I don’t see your Bitmoji on the SnapMap sitting in your damn apartment on a Friday at 11PM,” she scolds.

“I’m gonna turn off my location,” you declare. You’ve had enough of Snapchat exposing you and your location. People can live in mystery about your whereabouts from now on. They don’t need to know. Chaewon certainly does not. 

“No excuses, you’re coming with me to the gala! You must have something to wear in that closet of yours, don’t you?” She slides off of your bed with a thud and joins you as you stand in front of your clothes. None of them scream fancy. None of them even whisper it. You stand back as she shuffles through your clothes, hangers squeaking as she shoves them along the rail. Chaewon tears through your clothing faster than you skim through your economics readings. “Aha! What do we have here?”

She whips out a dress from the very back of your closet, right behind the blazer you never wear because you’d rather be caught dead than in business attire. It’s old—you don’t think you’ve worn it since the beginning of your freshman year when you thought you actually had to dress up for parties. Needless to say, you dry-cleaned it the following Monday and never wore it again. You don’t even recall bringing it to college this year. 

“This is perfect!” Chaewon cries. “Really says ‘I can fucking dress myself’, don’t you think?”

“Are you implying that I can’t dress myself?” 

“You should definitely wear this,” Chaewon decides, dodging the question. “Gucci and Louis Vuitton are overrated, anyway.”

“I don’t really have a choice, do I.” Chaewon thrusts the dress towards you.

Chaewon shakes her head. “Of course you don’t.” 

Three hours later finds you one makeup and hair session later, standing in the lobby of a magnificent skyscraper wearing a dress that maybe could have done without the cup of frozen yogurt that you ate before you arrived. Now you remember why you haven’t really worn it since the beginning of last year. Has it shrunk?

“I feel like a loser, Chaewon,” you hiss as she bats her eyelashes and gets directed to the private elevator that will lead you both to the top floor. “A money-less, jobless loser.”

“At least you’re honest, Y/N,” Chaewon whispers back as you step into the elevator. Despite being nearly an hour and a half late (“Fashionably so!” Chaewon exclaims.) you are crowded into the back corner, several other couples stepping inside to join you, all of them wearing clothes that cost more than your tuition for all four years of college, combined. “That’s better than most of the people here.”

Nothing separates the rich from the poor like morality. 

When the elevator doors open, you and Chaewon are the last group to step out, milling about in the corner until the path is free. And when you turn your gaze away from her, you realize just why Jungkook’s so keen on going to events like these, why he never turns down an offer when it lights up his phone screen. 

In movies, rich people flaunt their wealth so extravagantly that it almost looks fake. From gigantic ice sculptures to ten-feet-tall chocolate fountains, entire orchestras and dresses worth thousands of dollars, it makes you wonder if rich people really do see those items as necessities when throwing a party. They rent out entire European castles and the press publicizes every one of their actions. To you, it looks contrived, unrealistic. Even if rich people have enough money to sustain the bottom 99% for hundreds of years, how could they spend their money on nonsense like this?

As it turns out, the ice sculptures and chocolate fountains are only half of the story.

At this gala, the hosts have spared no expense. The entire penthouse is made purely of glass, from the ceiling, to the floor, to the walls in between, giving you an absolutely breathtaking view of the city lights dozens of feet below you, of the stars millions of light years away. It’s as if you’re standing in a bubble, frozen in time, the world sparkling and twinkling and shimmering around you. You didn’t even know a place like this existed on Earth. The price to book it must be astronomical. The view, even more so. 

“Holy fuck,” you murmur, mouth dropping open at the sight. It’s a movie come to life. It’s a picture straight out of a fairytale. 

“Pretty sweet, right?” Chaewon says, clearly proud of herself for convincing you to join her. “The Parks and the Ohs really felt like celebrating.”

“No shit,” you say, dumbfounded. Chaewon wraps her arm around yours and leads you out of the elevator, her poise and grace akin to that of a princess. She’s been to this place before. She could do this in her sleep. 

“Pictures first, then we eat, and then we mingle,” Chaewon instructs, and you nod diligently. She’s the only way you’re going to make it out of this night unscathed. Without her, you don’t know what you’d do. 

On the average day of an average life of an average person, pictures means getting a stranger to take a single pic on your shitty iPhone at your worst angle, which you will begrudgingly post to your Instagram later after extensive editing. 

But this is not your average day, and these are not average lives of not average people. Pictures means professional photographers with entire setups, standing with their cameras held up to their eyes, poised and ready for the next shot. It means couples, one by one, stepping in front of a gorgeous backdrop and posing, over and over, as five photographers at once cram to get their best angle, the cleanest photo. 

You don’t know how to pose for photos. You barely remember what the proper formatting is for your essays, depending on the citation structure. And yet, Chaewon is ushering you over in front of the photographers, immediately striking one of her classic, perfect poses as you flail about, trying to figure out what to do with your hands. 

“Just relax,” Chaewon advises. Even standing beside you, she can see you panicking in her periphery. “And smile. You’re beautiful, so show them that.”

Eventually, as the photographers switch positions to get different angles, you stop worrying about your hands, stop worrying about your bag, your feet, your head tilt, and just grin. You may not have millions of dollars to your name, but it’s a Friday night and you’re living the life of a billionaire with no responsibilities. You deserve to live a little. 

When the next group comes up, Chaewon nudges you out of the way and whispers to one of the photographers, who nods dutifully in response. Wrapping her arm around yours once more, she guides you to the massive catering setup, tables and tables lined with delicacies from every country you could imagine. And of course, a gargantuan chocolate fountain in the middle of it all. 

Your stomach rumbles. Clearly, the frozen yogurt was not enough to hold you off. Or maybe it’s just because you’ve been eating college dining hall food for weeks now, and are probably going to throw up if you have to have dry beef one more time. 

“If you want to, you should try the caviar. It’s delicious. Avoid the eggplant, it tastes like foot, but the brussel sprouts are delicious. Kimchi’s good, too. Classic,” Chaewon instructs as you walk around the tables, placing servings the size of quarters onto your plate just so you can have a taste of everything. Chaewon sticks to some ribs, pan-seared salmon, and a vegetable so expensive you’ve never even heard of it before. 

“Im Chaewon, is that you?”

“Mrs. Kim!”

A strange older woman comes up to the two of you as you’re dishing up, and Chaewon’s face immediately lights up. The woman goes in for a hug, a barely-touching pat of the shoulders and hands. Over her shoulder, you watch as Chaewon rolls her eyes and pulls a face. 

“How are you, dear? You look so grown up,” Mrs. Kim says. You watch as the light slowly fades from Chaewon’s eyes with each second that passes. 

“I’m very well, Mrs. Kim. Did you get your hair done? It makes you look so youthful.” Chaewon’s a master. She glares at you when Mrs. Kim isn’t looking, raising her eyebrows as if to say learn, young padawan. This is how it’s done. They go on for a couple minutes, showering fake compliments on each other as you slowly begin to eat. You scrunch your nose up. Chaewon’s right. The eggplant does taste like foot. 

“And who is this?” Mrs. Kim asks, turning her focus onto you. You look up like a deer in headlights, a brussel sprout puffing your cheek. You were not meant to mingle and eat at the same time. 

“This is one of my closest friends, Y/N,” Chaewon introduces for you. You nod your hello, chewing the brussel sprout in the most nondescript manner possible in an effort to save whatever is left of your dignity. “She’s pre-law.”

You are not pre-law.

“Oh, how wonderful! You must have a lot you want to accomplish in life,” Mrs. Kim says. God, you couldn’t care less about how Mrs. Kim feels about you.

“Yes, definitely,” you say awkwardly. 

“We really must be going, Mrs. Kim. My parents will want me to make sure I do my rounds,” Chaewon says, a hand on your arm as she makes to get you both the fuck out of there. 

“Of course, of course,” Mrs. Kim concedes, sending you and Chaewon one final goodbye before moving on to find her next victim. 

When she leaves, Chaewon seems to let out the biggest exhale of her life. “Holy fucking shit, I thought she’d never leave,” she exclaims, grabbing a flute of champagne and downing it in a single go. “She’s an associate of my father’s, so she’s always trying to kiss my damn ass. Like, sorry that you need to brown-nose your boss and his daughter just so you bribe your idiot son’s way into college.”

“You like mingling, I take?” You joke. 

“Just murder me.”

“Have any tips?”

“Flex as hard as possible without actually flexing. Try to speak to people your age because they are usually more bearable than people older than you. The best conversationalists are anybody under the age of ten,” Chaewon tells you. She picks up another glass of Prosecco. “Want some champagne?” 

“You have it,” you tell her. “I think you need it more than I do.”

Chaewon shrugs. Not as if they’re running out any time soon. She gulps it down and places it on the tray of one of the caterers as they whiz by her. 

The rest of the night passes by in the same way the beginning of it did. Chaewon drags you around the penthouse, talking with her father’s business partners and associates and their sons and daughters and husbands and wives for no more than two minutes each before moving on. She’s got her technique down pat. Greet, compliment, shade, flex, compliment, say goodbye. It’s foolproof, because you immediately notice that everyone else in the room has adopted the same approach. 

Business gatherings like these are just one big game of who can be the most-liked and the least-liked at the same time. And the answer: everybody, all at once. 

Halfway through the evening, Chaewon collapses against the back wall, totally unafraid of the possibility of the glass giving out behind her. She doesn’t care. If it breaks, it breaks. 

“Tired?”

“I just need a break,” Chaewon declares. “Because everyone in here is so fucking fake, and you’re the only one I can talk to without wanting to rip out my eardrums.”

“I’m honored,” you say sarcastically. 

“When I say you’re the only honest one here, I mean it,” Chaewon says. You lean back against the wall next to her, looking out into a sea of people in fancy clothes with fancy food and fancy friends. “Look at all these people, Y/N. All these fucking people, and you’re the only one who’s true.”

And then, you spot him. 

He’s far away, standing in a group of people you don’t recognize, a hand on the small of another girl’s back. He’s wearing a navy blue suit, tight-fitting and tailored, a silver watch sparkling on his wrist as he adjusts his sleeves. One of the other young men in the group says something funny, and he tilts his head back to laugh, chuckling as the girl beside him curls into his arms. 

You suppose it would have been ignorant of you to assume Jungkook was elsewhere on a night like this, at a gathering where everybody who knows anybody is here. 

Jungkook must not know you’re here. He mustn't, otherwise he would have come over to find you. You must have entered at different times, spent the night wandering around different parts of the penthouse. Clinging onto Chaewon’s arms, you must have avoided his gaze, and he, yours. 

Chaewon hasn’t spotted him either. Maybe it’s better this way. Maybe it’s better, if you’re the only one stuck with the knowledge that he’s here tonight. Chaewon would pity you. Other people would ask you how you knew such a worldly, experienced man like him. And you would spend the night wallowing in sadness, wondering why it’s never you that gets to spend the night next to him. 

From this distance, you can see Jungkook perfectly. The light from the moon shines down on him like a goddamn spotlight, catching the sparkling on his wrist, leaving a silver gleam in his slicked back hair. You watch as he laughs, smiles, talks, grins and beams and socializes. Of course he’s here. Of course. He’s so good at this, so good at being real and genuine and happy. 

Chaewon says the only person in the room who is true is you, but how can that be? How can that be when Jungkook, the most honest, wonderful, real person you know, is standing in front of you? You aren’t honest. You aren’t true and real and whole. You stand on the sidelines, a wallflower in a room of daisies and roses, and pine from afar. Watch as he pretends to date a girl that’s not you, wraps his arm around her waist and kisses her cheek, and you act like everything is alright. 

It sucks, being trapped like this for fear of him seeing you. You know that would be worse—if he saw you standing alone and decided to take matters into his own hands. Seeing him up close in a penthouse like this, a movie set, shimmering and sparkling, it would be worse. Jungkook pulls the girl beside him in close to his side, smiling as he listens to someone else speak. She’s the perfect height in those heels, just tall enough to rest her head in the crook between his neck and his shoulder. You imagine them walking into the room together, hand in hand. Imagine them posing for the pictures like a real couple, a pair of celebrities. 

You suppose you have no reason to be jealous of her, of him, of what they have. Jealousy is when resenting someone for having something that you once had. You never had a life like that with Jungkook. You’ll never have a life like that with him. Never get dressed up to go out, never get to be his date to an event. Never get pictures taken of you as a couple, never feed each other candies and strawberries dipped in chocolate. You can’t be jealous of her. You were never in the running to begin with. 

“Ready to get back out there?” Chaewon asks, placing a firm hand on your shoulder. 

A waiter comes by with a tray of champagne flutes, offering it to the both of you. 

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Chaewon tells you as she takes a glass for herself. 

You sigh, casting another glance over at Jungkook. He and his date are moving around now, joining another social circle on the opposite side of the penthouse. He looks so at ease, so comfortable. He belongs there, in the middle of it all, talking and laughing and grinning. And you? You belong back at home, underneath your duvet covers playing a game of Mario Kart. Not here. 

You shake your head. You could use a drink or two in this state. “I’d love one, actually. Thank you.”

That night, you stay at Chaewon’s place. 

“You’ve been acting weird.”

“Hello to you, as well,” you say with a scowl as Chaewon sits down across from you at the local ramen place. 

“Listen,” Chaewon begins, “I’ve been thinking. You need to confess to Jungkook.”

You nearly spit out the complimentary water you were served. “Excuse me?”

“You need to. You’ve been acting weird and that’s the only thing that’s going to fix it,” Chaewon declares. 

“What do you mean I’ve been ‘acting weird’? Care to explain?” You ask, offended. You haven’t been acting weird. Well, that weird. Maybe a little weird.

“Jungkook told me you haven’t seen each other for the last eight days,” Chaewon points out. Eight days? It’s more like seven and a half. Not that you’ve been counting, or anything. 

“So? We’re busy people,” you defend. It’s a good enough excuse. You’re sophomores in college. You have classes. Clubs. You have to meal prep. 

“So? You guys are best friends. You make time to see each other at three in the fucking morning if you haven’t seen each other yet that day. And you haven’t seen each other for eight whole days? What’s wrong with you?” Chaewon demands. 

“Nothing! What the heck, I invite you out to a best friend ramen date and you just blaspheme all over me like this?” You accuse. This is not how you imagined today to be going. This isn’t how you imagined this week to be going. “Besides, it’s only been seven and a half days. He’s over-exaggerating.”

“Seven and a—holy fuck, you are literally the worst. Can you just stop resisting? If you tell him, everything will be fine and go back to the way things were,” Chaewon says, blinking, flabbergasted. 

“No, they will not,” you hiss. “Everything will change if I tell him. We’re best friends, Chae. Imagine if I told you that I loved you. What would you do?”

“I’d love you back, that’s what!” Chaewon tells you. “You deserve to be loved back, Y/N. Nothing would change between us. I already love you. You’re one of my most favorite people ever. I would never regret something if it was with you.”

“It’s different with him, though,” you try to explain. You don’t know why—you just know that it is. The way you’re friends with Chaewon and the way you’re friends with Jungkook are entirely separate. You love Chaewon. You’re not in love with Chaewon. 

“Is it? How?” Chaewon says. 

“I don’t know, I just—it’s different with him.” There’s no way to describe it. Jungkook appeared in your life and it was as if everything just clicked into place. There isn’t a single thing in your life that makes more sense to you than Jungkook. “It’s always been different with him. With you, I—I knew that we would become really close friends once we started talking a lot more in the beginning of freshman year. But with him—I don’t know. From the moment I met him, I knew that I would fall in love with him. When he said hello to me, I was fucked. There’s never been any hope for me, Chae. I just have to live like this forever.”

Chaewon rolls her eyes. “No, you don’t. You don’t even see what the fuck is right in front of you.”

“You?”

“God, I’m friends with idiots. Literal idiots. How you guys have made it through nearly a year and a half of college is beyond me,” Chaewon says to nobody in particular. “Seriously, tell me, Y/N. What do you think will happen if you tell him? Just out of curiosity.”

“I don’t know—” you pause. A lot of things. He tells you he just wants to stay friends. He rejects you because he’s not interested that way and you can’t really be friends anymore because it’s weird now. He’s already interested in somebody else. He’s already dating somebody else and you never even knew. He’s not looking for a relationship right now. Things get awkward because you confessed to your best friend that you’re in love with him and he doesn’t feel the same. You end up never speaking to each other. You never see each other. You go through the rest of university seeing each other on the Green by chance and not knowing what to do. You graduate and move on with your lives. And suddenly, he’s just a past friend you used to have. No longer a part of your life. No longer given the chance to. “He rejects me. We never speak again and have to avoid each other at all costs. He lets me down easy and I feel like a total loser for having confessed in the first place. There’s a lot.”

“Jesus, Y/N. Aren’t you forgetting a possibility?” Chaewon says, eyebrows raised high. 

“I’m omitting a lot of them,” you tell her. Including the one where, in the next three years, you end up in a hellish dystopian wasteland and you have to band together to survive but it’s awkward and terrible because you love him still and he doesn’t feel the same, never has and never will, and now you have to fight off zombies and a corrupt autocratic government all while dealing with your own goddamn feelings. That may be the most unbearable one of them all. 

“How about the one where he actually feels the same?”

“Too unrealistic,” you tell Chaewon. It’s the truth. Why else would Jungkook be traipsing around with beautiful, rich, worldly girls on his nights off? He does it for the money, sure, but he likes it. He loves the experience, loves living that sort of life. You’d never be able to provide that for him. “You know that’s never going to happen, Chae. We’re just friends.”

“Bullshit.”

“Well, he thinks that we’re just friends. And I’m not gonna fuck everything up by telling him that I’ve been madly in love with him for the past year and a half.” You can think of nothing worse. 

“Have you ever considered the fact that maybe he thinks that the two of you are just friends because you refuse to actually show him how you feel?” Chaewon asks pointedly, eyebrows raised in disapproval. She looks about ready to walk out of the restaurant. “You never do things to give him a reason to think otherwise.”

“Why would I?” 

When your ramen arrives, Chaewon takes a deep breath, downs the rest of her glass of water, and moves on. It’s clear that if she thinks about this any more, her head will explode. 

Nothing’s ever going to change between you and Jungkook. You knew, when you first met him, that it was always going to hurt like this. That loving him was something you had to sacrifice to stay close to him. He lights up every fucking room he walks into, and it’s all you can do not to sit there and bask in his warmth. You would rather catch a single one of his rays than be in the darkness. And if being friends with him means that friends is all you’ll ever be, then so be it. You’re lucky to have him like this. Why take the plunge? 

“Just—” Chaewon says as you begin to pull apart the noodles in your own bowl. “I know that you aren’t as happy as you could be right now. And you deserve to be happy, Y/N. You deprive yourself of all of these wonderful things, and I just want you to know that you deserve every single one of them. But telling him? That’s something that even I know would make you the happiest. You shouldn’t live like this, Y/N. You have no idea what you’re missing out on if you do.”

The streak of not seeing Jungkook ends the next day, when you come back from an evening grocery store run to find him standing outside your door, hand about to knock on the wood. He’s all dressed up again, button-down and slacks, hair styled and parted, and you watch as he takes a deep breath, almost as if he’s waiting for the best time to knock. 

“Jungkook?”

He practically jumps out of his skin at the sound of your voice, nearly tripping over his own feet as he lays his eyes on you. 

“Oh, Y/N!” He exclaims. “I was just about to see if you were home.”

“You could have just texted, you know,” you say jokingly, joining him at the front door as you fumble for your keys. 

“I wanted to surprise you,” Jungkook admits sheepishly. 

“Well, make it up to me by helping me unpack these,” you demand, kicking the door open as you reach down to grab your reusable canvas bags filled with groceries. Immediately, Jungkook is leaning down to grab all of them for you, hauling them inside like they weigh nothing. You stare as he heads over to your kitchen without breaking a sweat, biceps clenching as he lifts the groceries up onto the counter. 

“What’d you get?” Jungkook asks, slowly beginning to take out the groceries. He’s in your apartment so often that he’s memorized where all of your food goes, from the correct shelf in the fridge for produce to the proper cabinet for cereal. 

“Just like… groceries. I saw a box of peppermint chocolate bars that I thought you might like, they’re in there somewhere,” you say mindlessly, pointing to a random canvas bag. Immediately, Jungkook abandons his putting-away-groceries duty to fish through each of the bags, hunting for the box of goodies. “And I got some cheap Trader Joe’s wine. You know. Just for emergencies.”

“Trader Joe’s wine and peppermint chocolate bars,” Jungkook comments, nodding in approval. He finally finds the box and tears it open sideways. “Sounds like a perfect dessert if I’ve ever heard one.”

“What, did you eat already?” You ask, busting out the wine and a couple of mugs, because you don’t own any wine glasses. Nothing says cultured like drinking seven-dollar wine out of mugs with kitschy sayings like “don’t talk to me until this is empty” or “coffee is my first love” written on them. 

Jungkook shrugs. He grabs the box and heads over to your couch, already kicking back and relaxing. “Yeah, I went to some restaurant for another double date,” Jungkook says. “It was one of those places where everything is so expensive but the portions are the size of my fist. Of your fist.”

“You sound hungry,” you note, filling up the mugs and joining him. “And mad.”

“I’m getting reimbursed for the money I spent tonight, so I suppose I could be angrier. But I’m starving. Let’s finish this entire box of chocolates and do nothing else.”

“Your words, not mine,” you say, although his proposal sounds more than appealing to you. 

You turn the television on for some background noise, switching to a channel showing old reruns of unsolved serial killer cases, because nothing sets the mood better than the words “then, slowly, he took the knife with which he killed her and began to slice away at her body”. Jungkook doesn’t seem to pay the television any attention, though, instead focused entirely on the chocolate in front of him, calling his name. 

He takes an enormous bite out of one before moaning far too sexually for your liking, tossing his head back in bliss. “Oh my God.”

“Good?”

Jungkook moans again in response.

“Please don’t orgasm on this couch. Who knows what other bodily fluids were on here before we bought it,” you ask calmly. 

“I’d say that’s nasty, but you guys did cover this with one of those couch covers, so it’s not like my body is coming into contact with other people’s body stains,” Jungkook reasons. The couch cover is the single best purchase you’ve made this entire year. Possibly your entire life. “But they’re delicious. You made a good purchase.”

“I thought you would like them,” you say. “You’re the only person I know who actually likes the combination of mint and chocolate.”

“People who say that it tastes like toothpaste are brushing their teeth with the wrong kind of toothpaste,” he tells you pointedly. “I don’t understand. This is God’s combination. It’s perfect.”

“As long as you love it, that’s all that matters,” you tell him with a pat on his back, breaking off a square of the chocolate bar for yourself. It is pretty good, even if mint chocolate ice cream does sometimes taste like toothpaste. But you’d never tell Jungkook that, of course. 

Jungkook takes a swig of the wine, picking up the mug and gulping down about half of it, the wine bitter on his tongue. “Goes great with this wine, too,” he jokes. You take a sip yourself. It’s… not very good. Actually, rather sticky. No wonder it was only seven dollars. 

“You don’t have to lie to me, I know it tastes like ass,” you tell him honestly. To be fair, you and Jungkook have both had worse. Compared to the shit served at frat parties, this may as well be beautifully-aged Malbec. 

“It only tastes a little bit like ass,” Jungkook compromises. “But it doesn’t not taste like ass.”

“Let’s finish it now so we don’t have to have any more of it later,” you decide. “You’ve probably had some of the best alcohol in your life this semester.”

Jungkook thinks back, tilting his head to the side as he begins to recall all of the instances in the past few months when he’s had anything to drink. “Soju’s still my favorite. But yeah, I’d say I’ve had wine that probably costs more than my textbooks for this semester if I hadn’t pirated them all.”

“The beauty of being a CS student,” you muse. 

“You know it,” he says, holding his half-empty mug out as a toast to himself. “But seriously, even if this Trader Joe’s wine literally tasted like garbage, it would still be better than all of that other shit.”

You turn to him, skeptical. Even the single night you spent with Chaewon, in a penthouse amongst the stars, drinking champagne and eating strawberries dipped in chocolate, was more than you could ever dream of. You woke up the next day on an air mattress in her bedroom and wanted nothing more than to go back to basking in the luxury, desperate for another taste. It was addicting. How could Jungkook ever prefer what he has right now to what he had last night? 

“Really? Don’t say that just to make me feel better,” you tell him. You can take it. Jungkook has every reason to prefer the fancy meals, the penthouses, the suits and ties to your janky little apartment and old clothes from high school. The two aren’t at all on the same level. They’re not even in the same goddamn game. If you could drop everything to have what Chaewon has, what the other girls and boys who pay for Jungkook’s company have, you would. 

“I’m not,” Jungkook tells you seriously. “I mean it. I would rather sit in your room, hunched over your tiny Switch because you lost the HDMI cord to plug it into the television, playing Mario Kart than out there, pretending to be someone I’m not.”

“But it was fun in the beginning, wasn’t it? Getting to be rich without the moral ambiguity that comes along with being part of the upper class?” You ask. It must have been. Jungkook looked so happy when he first started doing these gigs, coming back to your apartment in a state of bliss, a little tipsy from the expensive champagne and steak. He’d knock on your door and tell you all about the night, from how older businessmen handed him their cards and offered him jobs, to the hundreds of ice cream flavors you could only ever dream of eating. Everything seemed so wonderful to him.

Jungkook shrugs, pouring himself more wine. “Yeah, I guess, but it gets so old after a while. Like, no wonder Chaewon was so desperate for me to go with her that first time. It sucks the damn life out of you. You walk around and mingle and pretend that you’re the greatest person on Earth, talking about yourself and kissing up to the other people for an entire night. Honestly, sometimes it’s worse than my CS homework. And I hate that shit.”

“Chaewon mentioned that the eggplant usually tastes like foot,” you add. Jungkook nods in agreement. 

“Yeah, it does. She warned me about it the first night and I, like a fool, tried it because I usually like eggplant. And it still tasted like foot. Never again,” Jungkook says, shivering at the mere thought of it. It’s funny, actually, because you did the exact same thing. “But the food is like, the one thing I pretty much don’t have the right to complain about. It’s delicious and usually free.”

“But I hope that you’re having fun,” you tell him honestly, because you do. When you’re sitting in your room, eating two different pints of Ben & Jerry’s, you hope that Jungkook, wherever he is, whatever he’s doing, is enjoying himself more than you are. Because he deserves it. You never want there to be a time when he’s sad, when he’s unhappy or bored. Jungkook deserves to live the happiest version of life he possibly can. “I want you to enjoy yourself.”

“I do,” Jungkook says. There’s a second half to that sentence. “I do—it’s just that… It's so fake, you know? I feel like such a goddamn actor when I’m there. I get to live this extravagant lifestyle for a few hours but in return I don’t even know who I’m looking at when I look in the mirror.”

Oh?

“Like, I pretend to be this business student, when I’m not. I pretend to have millions of dollars to my name, when I don’t. I hold hands and pose for pictures with people Chaewon is vaguely familiar with and nothing, literally nothing, feels real. I don’t know.” Jungkook takes another swig from the mug. “Even the relationships I have when I’m there are fake.”

“Do you hate it that much, then?” You ask him. If it’s so awful and terrible, then why does he keep doing it? Keep dressing up and going out, holding hands with and wrapping his arm around them?

“No,” Jungkook says, sighing as he leans back into the couch. “I don’t hate it. I just—I wish I had something real afterwards to come back home to.”

Real? Like what? Like you? You aren’t real. You sit next to your best friend and pretend that everything is fine. That nothing hurts. You’ve had the biggest crush on him ever since you laid eyes on him, and you’re doing everything in your power to make sure that he’s the only one that doesn’t know. 

“That’s why I’m always coming back to your apartment afterwards,” Jungkook says. He chuckles, but it isn’t his usual laugh. It sounds forced, contrived and fake. Jaded. He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it almost immediately. Then, he breathes, long and slow. Thinks. The silence is almost unbearable. Waiting to hear what he has to say, even more so. “You’re the most genuine person I know. What we share—it’s real.”

Tonight is the least lonely you’ve felt in a long time. 

Even though Jungkook has something tonight, you aren’t aching to be by his side, desperate to spend more time with him. He told you that he was really looking forward to this one, that it wasn’t going to be some stuffy gala or blind double date. He said something about going to karaoke with the girl and her friends, singing Britney Spears songs and taking shots of soju for hours on end, screaming his voice hoarse. And even if you aren’t there with him, you’re happy because you know that he’s happy, that he’s genuinely enjoying himself. 

So, you aren’t that lonely. 

Content with the state of your life as it is, you take the night off, ready to prepare yourself for a weekend that will almost certainly consist entirely of just work. Chaewon’s voice echoes in your mind (“I know that you aren’t as happy as you could be right now,” she had told you), but it’s different now. Because you are happy. You are happy, because Jungkook’s happy. The two of you see each other just as frequently as you used to. He texts you about his terrible CS homework and the Shiba Inu he just saw being walked across campus. It’s all gone back to the way it used to be. That’s what you had wanted. 

You were prepared for this. You knew that it would eventually boil down to this, down to whether or not you could take Jungkook not knowing how you feel any longer. But right now, you don’t care. Jungkook not knowing has always been a part of your friendship. The love you hold for him, in the spaces between your bones and deep in the cracks of your heart, that has always been there. You see it, hear it, feel it, whenever you’re with him. Even when you’re not with him, it will remind you, appear in the silence, the emptiness. It will always make itself known, because it’s become a part of you. From the moment you met him, it had settled into your heart.

Staring out of the window by your living room, overlooking the ugliest parking garage on campus, you sigh. You can’t see the stars from here, not even in the dead of night, but that’s alright. There is something so peaceful about the navy blue sky. About how mysterious and unknown it is. It calms you. You put on a movie that you’ve genuinely been wanting to watch for a while, sit down in your bed, amongst your duvet and sheets, pillows and plushies, and enjoy yourself, for once. It’s a good night. 

And then, much like most aspects of your terribly convoluted, over-complicated and confusing life, it all comes crashing down. 

There’s a faint thud from outside, a soft little non-noise that you assume is coming from the street. Not wanting to interrupt your movie—she’s just about to confess, holy shit—you ignore it. It’ll go away eventually. 

Then another thud. You pause, leaning towards your window to see if you can figure out the source. Silence. You’re just about to press play, when you hear it again. And again. It gets louder and louder, making up in volume what it lacks in rhythm and order, until you realize it’s someone knocking on your door. And not just knocking casually. It’s as if someone is shoving their whole body into it, shoulders and chest and feet hitting the wood as they bang on it. 

“Y/N?”

Oh, God.

Pushing off your duvet, you tug on your slippers and wipe away the crust around your eyes as you rush towards the door. You know who’s on the other side. You’re not sure if answering it is the better or worse option. 

You’ve always had an uncanny ability to pick the latter. 

When you open the door, Jungkook, in a fancy sweater pulled over a white button down and black jeans that could almost pass for dressy slacks, is standing on the other side. 

Correction: he’s sort of standing on the other side. He nearly topples over when you pull open the door, having clearly been leaning on it, and you barely have time to reach your arms out to catch him. 

“Oh! Y/N!” Jungkook exclaims, as if he’s surprised to see you inside your own apartment. “I was hoping to see you.”

“I figured,” you tell him, laughing. You guide him inside, and even in his state he remembers to tug off his clean white sneakers, kicking them towards the shoe rack. “It’s so late, Jungkook, you should go home.” 

“No,” Jungkook whines. “I wanted to see you. I missed you.”

“We saw each other this morning, Jungkook. And this afternoon, right before you went out,” you remind him. The words go in one ear and out the other, and he pulls you in close to him, wrapping his arms around you as he presses his body against yours in a sweaty hug. His grip is tight around you as he rests his head on your shoulder, breathing you in as if you’d been gone for years. Slowly, after a few seconds, you pull away from him, a hand on his shoulder to get him to look at you through his too-long bangs, hanging over his eyes. “Hey, what’s wrong? I’m right here, don’t worry. I never left.”

“I had a lot to drink tonight,” Jungkook tells you, blinking rapidly. “Like, a lot. They just kept ordering soju and I just kept drinking it. It was really good. Have you had strawberry soju? It’s delicious.”

“I might have had it once or twice,” you fib, not able to recall having it one way or another. “Come on, sit down,” you point him towards the couch, but he refuses, clinging onto you even as you make your way towards the kitchen. “Jungkook, please, I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“But I missed you,” Jungkook repeats. “I missed you a lot. I thought about you the entire time I was there.”

You can’t say you didn’t do the same. 

“Next time we’ll do something together then, hey? Something really fun, like going to an arcade or bowling,” you promise him with a pat on his shoulder. “But you need to drink some water, JK. Can you please sit down?”

“No, I want to be with you,” Jungkook says like it’s nothing. Like the feeling of him wrapped around you like this, holding onto you and telling you that he misses you, that he thinks about you, doesn’t mean anything. You don’t think your heart has beaten since you opened the door to see him standing on the other side. 

(You don’t think it’s beaten since you met him. Since he came up to you on the pavement, asking you for directions. Since you told him your name, and he told you his.)

“Ah, fine, just be careful, I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” you concede, because it’s so easy to let him have his way, so easy to say yes to him. You manage to grab an empty water bottle and fill it up with what’s left in your Brita, too lazy to refill it after it’s left bone dry. Slowly, you make your way to your bedroom, out of view of the central living space, where your roommates could burst through the door at any moment and see you taking care of your drunk best friend on the sofa. 

Slowly, you settle on your bed, sitting off of the edge of it as you cajole him into drinking some water, whispering soft nothings to make sure he finishes the whole thing. 

“Does your head hurt or anything?” You ask him, already looking around for the stash of Advil you usually keep on your nightstand.

“No, no, I’m fine, Y/N, seriously,” he promises, even if you can see the glazed-over look in his eyes, the way his sweaty bangs stick to his forehead. “You’re too nice, you know? Always treating me when I show up at your place. Even when you don’t invite me.”

“You know I never mind seeing you,” you tell him. “You can come over whenever you want. I’m always here.”

“No, you’re not,” Jungkook says with a pout, and it makes you furrow your brows. When have you not been? Jungkook’s been going out to events ever since the beginning of the semester, and without fail, you’ve always been waiting for him at home, knowing he’ll turn up one way or another. Except, there was— “That one time a couple of weeks ago, I went to this crazy big gala with Eunha, there were so many people there, and I came back home afterwards and knocked on your door, and your roommates said they hadn’t seen you all day. Where were you that day?”

He had come? You didn’t know if he would. 

(Or maybe, you did. You knew he would show up at your door once he got back from that night, and selfishly, not wanting to see him after the fact, the leftover version of him, the part he leaves behind when he goes out. You knew he would be there and you couldn’t bear the thought of being the second girl he spends the night with. The other option. Maybe, you’ve known all along that you’ll never quite stack up to the girls he goes out with, and that sometimes, when you see him all dressed up while you’re in your hoodie and sweats, it reminds you is nothing more than a casual friendship.)

“I must have been out late with Chaewon that day, I’m sorry,” you apologize, letting him rest his head on your shoulder. “I didn’t know you would come.”

“I always come after my events. You know that.”

“I didn’t know if you’d remember to,” you correct. 

“I’d never forget about you,” Jungkook says, the alcohol erasing his filter. Making him honest. “I really missed you, that day. I had been waiting the entire night to see you.”

“I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again,” you promise, and this one is for real. 

“You know, today?” Jungkook says, pulling his head back so he can get a good look at you, your eyes meeting his own. “Today, I was so sad on my way here. It was so terrible, because I was drunk and sad and I missed you.”

“You were sad? What happened?” You ask, leaning in. Jungkook? Sad? Who would do such a thing to him? Who would erase the smile on his face, his crescent eyes, and replace them with tears? 

“This girl and I, she was a lot of fun. We sang a couple duets together and we were pretty good,” he hiccups, “kept winning. It was fun. She and I talked for a long time. I definitely liked her the most out of all of the girls I’ve gone out with. Besides Chaewon, of course.”

“What happened? Did she do something you didn’t want? You know you can tell me, Jungkook,” you ask, a hand on his arm. 

“No.” Jungkook shakes his head. “I don’t know. She was fun and I was drunk. We were on our way back in the Lyft when she leaned over and kissed me. And I kissed her back, and it was kind of nice. I haven’t really kissed someone like that in a while,” Jungkook tells you. And even though you’re hearing these words from him, hearing how he had all of this fun with a girl who isn’t you, how he kissed her in the backseat of a car, you rally, blinking away the tears you can feel forming in your eyes. It’s none of your business, you tell yourself. You and Jungkook aren’t together. You don’t get to feel bad about him kissing someone else. 

“Did you like it?” You ask, each word a pin in your chest. 

“It was pretty nice,” Jungkook admits. “We, uh, we made out a bit in the back of the car until we got to her place. And then we got out of the car and she asked me if I wanted to go back with her, to her room. And—and I almost said yes.” Jungkook looks about ready to combust. At his side, his fists are clenched so hard you’re worried he’ll pop a vein. 

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” you tell him, looking him in the eyes so he knows that you don’t mind, that he can tell you these things without worry. Jungkook may be the love of your life, but he’s your best friend, first. He’s always been, before anything else, your best friend. 

“But there is!” Jungkook cries, standing up in anguish. “There is, Y/N, you don’t understand! I almost had sex with her!”

“You’re allowed to, Jungkook!” You assure him, standing up to reach out to him. 

“No, Y/N, you don’t get it,” he tells you coldly, pulling his hand away. “Why aren’t you mad? Aren’t you angry that I nearly had sex with her?”

“No, what the fuck, Jungkook, why would I be mad?” You shout back at him. “You can do whatever you want with your body, it’s not my job to police it! I’m your friend, not your mom!”

“But don’t you want to be more, Y/N?” He rounds on you. “Don’t you want to be the one kissing me, fucking me? Why aren’t you jealous?”

“Were you trying to make me jealous, Jungkook? Is that what you were trying to do? You wanted to get a reaction out of me because my best friend nearly fucked someone else and then didn’t? What the fuck, Jungkook? What do you want from me?”

“I just want you to tell me you fucking love me back!”

“Jungkook, what—”

Jungkook, eyes dark and furious, pushes you against your closet door as your lips part, feeling the breath get knocked out of your lungs. He’s so close. He’s right there, you can see him, watch as he looms over you, hands clenched in your hoodie as he presses you against the wall. And then, wordlessly, he’s leaning down, crashing your mouths together. 

Suddenly, your heart starts. You gasp into the kiss, the feeling of his mouth on top of yours. It’s fervent, hot and angry and passionate, his body against your own as your hands reach out to press against his head. You seize up at the feeling, almost as if in shock, before melting into his touch, leaning into him, desperate. You can feel his breath mixing in with your own, feel the way his chapped lips meet your overly-moisturized ones, feel how his hands drift from where they’re bunched up in the front of your hoodie to your waist, your hips, your thighs. Jungkook kisses ruthlessly, kisses like he’s trying to prove a point. Holds onto you like he’s afraid to let go. 

When you part, gasping for air, Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, blinking. 

“Jungkook, you’re drunk—” you tell him firmly, refusing to let get your hopes up if what you have in front of you is really just an intoxicated best friend. Your heart is beating miles a minute, about ready to thump right out of you, chest heaving and mouth agape. 

“That doesn’t matter,” Jungkook argues back. “Even when I’m sober I love you. Don’t tell me I’m confused because I’m drunk.”

“You show up at my place at one in the morning, tell me about how you made out with some other girl and almost slept with her just to get me angry, kiss me, and tell me not to tell you you’re confused?” You demand. “Jungkook, I’ve never been more confused in my life than right now, can you please just—”

“I love you, Y/N,” Jungkook says, and even though he’s angry, red in the face and sweaty, when he says it, it’s soft. It’s a whisper, a murmur. He says it not to convince you, but so you know. “I’ve been in love with you for so goddamn long, ever since I fucking met you. And I thought you might like me back but you never did anything about it, and so neither did I.”

“You need to go home, Jungkook,” you tell him, hiccuping. When you blink, you feel the warm tears streaming down your face. You hadn’t even noticed them. “You can’t just come into my apartment and tell me shit like that. How do you think it makes me feel?”

“Do you feel the same, Y/N?” Jungkook asks, looking you in the eyes. He’s angry, that’s for sure, but even underneath, you can see the desperation, see how he’s just waiting for an answer. 

“Go home, Jungkook. Please. Let’s talk about this when you aren’t drunk, okay? I’m confused and I need to clear my head,” you plead, pushing him towards the door. “Please, okay? Be safe, too. I’ll call Chaewon to give you a ride,” you tell him, grabbing your phone. 

Jungkook puts a hand on your wrist. “I’ll be okay, Y/N. I just… Please, tell me. Did that kiss mean anything to you?”

“Yes, it did, but Jungkook, I can���t—”

“It meant something to me, too,” he tells you firmly, lets the words sink into the air around you.  He heads for the door, pulling on his shoes. He looks so sad. “Good night, Y/N.”

You place a hand on the doorknob. “Good night, Jungkook.”

It’s barely nine in the morning the next day when a knock wakes you up. It’s soft at first, one every couple of seconds, before it gets progressively louder. Slowly, you get out of bed, trying to tame your hair as you rub the sleep from your eyes. 

“Y/N’s in her room. Is that for her? That’s so cute. Yeah, she’s probably awake. You can just knock.” It’s your roommate. 

You scramble to make your bed, pouring some water from the water bottle by your nightstand into your hand and splashing your face, wiping it away with an old t-shirt as you run towards the door, pulling it open just in time. 

On the other side is a much more tired, much less drunk Jungkook, one hand raised and about to knock, the other holding a bouquet of daisies. 

“Hey,” he says shyly, mouth breaking into a smile the moment he sees you. 

“Hey,” you say back. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah, head hurts like hell, though,” Jungkook says. “Can I come in?”

“Oh, yeah, s-sure, of course,” you say, stepping aside to let him into your bedroom. 

“These are for you.” Jungkook holds out the bouquet towards you, wrapped up neatly in cellophane and tied at the stems with a bow. “So you don’t have to keep Febreze-ing your room all of the time.”

“They’re beautiful, Jungkook,” you tell him, grinning as you take them from his hands. Today feels different from yesterday. It feels lighter, fresher. New. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“I—” He pauses, taking a second to think, “I meant what I said, yesterday. Maybe not all of it, but. Most of it, yeah. I meant it.”

“Why did you try to make me jealous, Jungkook?” You ask him. “Why did you think that would work?”

“I don’t know,” Jungkook admits. “I shouldn’t have, and I fucked up. I just got so… so tired of waiting to see if you’d ever come around. I just wanted you to tell me. And then I guess I got so fed up that I told you instead.”

You place the bouquet on your dresser before walking towards him, reaching a hand out. “Yeah, that was a pretty big asshole move of you,” you chide, grinning to yourself. 

“I know, I’m sorry.” He sighs. 

“But I’m happy you’re here,” you tell him. “And happy that you meant what you said. Maybe it could have been said in a less angry way, but hearing it made me happy.”

“I’m happy that you’re happy.” Jungkook grins. “You’re my favorite person, Y/N.”

“When you asked me, yesterday, if that kiss meant anything to me? And I said it did?” You begin, Jungkook nodding in front of you. He’s positively beaming. “It still does. I want to do that every day, Jungkook. Every hour. Every single second for the rest of my goddamn life.”

“You do?” Jungkook asks. 

“I love you, Jeon Jungkook. From day one, it’s always been you.” You smile, and it feels like a weight has been lifted off of your shoulders. Feels like you’re fucking flying. Like you’re weightless. 

“I love you, too, Y/N. I never want to be away from your side,” he declares, and like a cheesy, rom-com movie, like the shitty novels you used to read in eighth grade, he pulls you in close and presses a kiss against your lips. Wraps his arms around your waist as he holds you tight, kisses you in the middle of your bedroom, in your hoodie and sweatpants, a bouquet of daisies on your dresser. He kisses you because he can, because for every second of every day for the rest of your goddamn life, he can kiss you, over and over and over. 

“We owe Chaewon an apology,” you tell him when you’re parted, sitting on your bed, wrapped up in each other’s arms. 

“Hell yeah we do,” Jungkook agrees. “She’s been on my ass for ages about telling you.”

“Mine too.”

“She’s such a great best friend,” Jungkook comments. “Knew all this time that her two friends were madly in love with each other and didn’t say a damn word to either of us. That’s loyalty.”

“We should do something for her, to make up for it all,” you suggest. 

“You know,” Jungkook says, grinning, “I know this guy who made bank this semester by going on fake dates with a bunch of really rich girls. Maybe he could help.”

“I know him, too,” you joke. “He’s the love of my fucking life.”

Jeon Jungkook quits his job on the ninety-eighth day of the fall semester of his sophomore year.

You know this because on the ninety-eighth day of the fall semester of your sophomore year, he comes banging on the door of your apartment shared with three other girls at 7:18PM, eighteen minutes after he normally heads out on one of his many dates. 

“Y/N!” He shouts, banging wildly on your door. You rush over to open it, letting the pasta water on the stove boil over and sizzle on the heat. He’s barely gotten in a second knock when you turn the doorknob to reveal your smiling boyfriend in his oversized hoodie.

“Don’t tell me you’re blowing someone off for me,” you say, inviting him inside. He places a kiss on your cheek on the way in, taking off his shoes and coat as you rush over to take care of the pasta.

“Me? Blowing someone off? Never,” Jungkook says, mock offended. “I actually quit the dating thing, this afternoon. A girl asked if I was free and I said that I wasn’t, because I have to go home to my girlfriend making me a meal. Don’t you love the sound of that?” He asks, pleased with himself.

“You quit? I thought you liked doing that stuff,” you say, using the spaghetti fork to move around the linguine. “Hope you’re cool with boring old pasta for your meal tonight. You could have had caviar if you hadn’t quit.”

“I don’t care, it smells so good,” Jungkook tells you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he stands behind you, watching you cook from over your shoulder. “Look at you, being all domestic and shit. It’s very cute.”

“Stop rubbing in the fact that you’re the better cook, I get it. Pasta is all I got right now.” You pout, turning down the heat as you move to pour yourselves two cups of tea. Jungkook follows you the entire way to the kettle, grip on your waist never faltering. “You can keep going on those dates, you know. I don’t mind. I get to see you in a suit when you get back, and then I get to take it off of you. It’s a win-win.”

Jungkook pinches your waist in response. “If you have a thing for suits, you can just tell me, you know. I won’t be mad.”

You turn around to whack him with the spaghetti fork. “I do not!”

“Alright, Y/N, guess I won’t wear a suit next time you call me at two in the morning—”

“I never said you couldn’t,” you interrupt, making Jungkook laugh. 

“You’re so cute, Y/N,” Jungkook coos as you begin to dish up the pasta, making sure to add peas because Jungkook loves peas with his spaghetti. “But I quit because I have enough money to sustain me for the rest of the semester. I’ll work over break and get a new job next semester when the new work-study positions open. Don’t worry about me,” he assures you. 

“But didn’t you like going out and everything? Getting dressed up and drinking fancy champagne?” You ask, setting the plates down at your dinky kitchen table, a single scented candle lit in the center. 

Jungkook thinks about it for a split second, and then he shakes his head. “Nah. I like hanging out with my girlfriend more.”

“Well, when you put it like that…” you reason with a grin. 

Jungkook laughs, leaning over the table to plop a kiss on your lips. “I love you, Y/N.”

“Yeah, you pea-eating loser,” you chide, “I love you too.”

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!

↳ check out the post-script drabble here!

[yoonjinkooked]

Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien | Jimin

moodboard by the lovely and amazing @flajka, who was also my #1 helper and support through the torturous 10 month journey that this story was. 

Pairing: Jimin / Reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Strangers to lovers, smut, romcom

Warnings: explicit sex, slight exhibitionism (fingering, out in the open but not in public, boat sex, oral (f and m receiving) brief but gory painting description, a lot of cursing, Jimin will end you Word Count: 19k+  Summary: You keep meeting a handsome stranger in Paris. One coincidence after another leads to the most amazing trip of your life A/N: This shit took 10 months to write. Thank @flajka, Kehlani and Jimin’s sexy Paris photos.  Spotify playlists for this fic are: 1 / 2 / 3  - I had to separate them because you can’t put Edith Piaf on the same playlist as Ace Of Base.  Hope you enjoy! 

Looking up from the screen of your phone, you blink once, twice, three times – you are not where you are supposed to be and Google maps are the stupidest invention ever.

It took you two hours to find your Airbnb apartment yesterday, all because Google maps were not quite user friendly. Not to mention that your sense of direction was utterly pathetic.

Yet despite all of that, you were absolutely positive that finding ‘Shakespeare and company’ would be an easy task – after all, you were so close to it, having just spent 10 minutes mourning the fact that the Notre-Dame was still very much unapproachable. From there to the bookstore, the route should have been easy to follow but alas, it was not. Somehow, you have managed to confuse yourself even further.

Looking around in place, you breathe a sigh of relief when you see the green doors and a sign that tells you that perhaps your sense of direction isn’t as bad as you think it is – ‘Shakespeare and Company’.

There it is, the bookstore with such rich history, one of your must-see places in Paris, something that the ‘Midnight in Paris’ lover in you had to tick off the list – there it is, right before you and very much closed. You check the time, finding that it is almost nine – a quick Google search, which is something you should have done before leaving your apartment – tells you that it opens up at half past nine.

You don’t have time, you absolutely don’t have time to sit around and wait for it to open. It’s going to take you some time to reach the 7th Arrondissement and once you do get there, two museums await. Wasting time, waiting for a bookstore to open is not a luxury you can afford right now.

Perhaps you will have time before you leave. After all, you still have a week to spend in the city of light and although your plans are pretty strict and well-organized, you are aware that some changes are bound to happen. But you will leave that for the last day – right now, you only have a few minutes of your life to offer to a closed bookstore.

As you take photos of the famed location, you recall the comments your mother made before you left, about how a young woman shouldn’t travel alone in a foreign country. She had a point – one shouldn’t travel alone if they want to have at least one photo of themselves on the memory card. It sucks a bit but you don’t let it dampen your mood – you don’t need photos to preserve the memories. A selfie stick was always an option but it was also beneath you – something you’ve decided when they first appeared.

“Is it closed?” a voice asks from behind you, making you jump a bit, as you weren’t aware that you had company. The man looking at you seems to be about your age and a tourist, if the camera around his neck is anything to go by. The brief once-over you give him lets you know he is also unnaturally attractive.

“Yeah,” you tell him, offering him a compassionate smile when you see his expression sour. “It should open soon though – about half an hour, if Google is correct.”

“Thanks for the info,” he smiles, before he lifts up his camera and starts taking photos. You realize that the chit-chat is over, so you resume taking photos as well. Just a few seconds later, his presence gave you an idea.

“Hey, would you mind taking a photo of me?” you ask sheepishly, smiling when he nods his head at once. “I’m travelling alone and I just want at least one photo of me in the folder, you know?”

“I can relate,” he chuckles as he takes the camera from you. “How do you want to take it? Casually touristy, right in front of it or artsy, with you looking up at the sign in awe?”

“Artsy,” he laughs at your immediate response, to which you simply shrug. “When will I be artsy if not in Paris?”

“Touché,” he agrees, before directing you so that he can take a decent shot. “Turn a bit to the left.”

A few seconds later, it’s his turn. After settling your own camera around your neck, you take his and take a few photos of him as he stands in the same spot you did, looking up at the sign in fake awe. This gives you a chance to properly look at him for the first time. He is indeed handsome, insanely so. Dark brown hair swept away from his face, insanely clear skin and a jaw that could cut right through glass. Looking right at him is almost blinding and you rush to take the photos.

“All done,” you smile as you return the camera to him. “I think you have a few decent shots there.”

“Thanks,” he smiles as you adjust your backpack, ready to take your leave – Shakespeare will have to enjoy your company some other day. “Enjoy the rest of Paris.”

“Yeah, you too,” you smile back at the man, mumbling under your breath as you leave because it serves you right to meet the most handsome man ever half-way across the world.

By the time you finally escape the Parisian metro, you are dead tired. Musée Rodin was just as beautiful as ‘Midnight in Paris’ made it seem to be. You’ve spent the good part of the morning roaming it’s gardens, before finally moving onto Les Invalides, which housed the tomb of the oh so great Napoleon Bonaparte. That was arguably less exciting than Musée Rodin, with you actually giving up on it completely as soon as you saw his tomb. The comments you thought of while admiring the size of the tomb and him obviously carrying his complexes into afterlife were left to you alone, making you chuckle at random times and earning a few curious looks from your fellow tourists.

Your tourist escapades ended at Champ de Mars, with an impromptu picnic which included sitting on your jacket and eating a marvelous French feast made up from pre-packaged Starbucks caramel macchiato and salt&vinegar chips – mmm, so French it hurts. Originally, you wanted to wait for the infamous light show to start but after just an hour, you have already given up and made your leave, hoping not to get lost in the metro yet again.

Luckily, you didn’t. You were so tired by the time you got to the place you rented in the outskirts of Paris that you barely had the energy to shower. And tomorrow, with Versailles being your top priority, your day was bound to be even more tiring.

You are fuming, absolutely fuming, wanting nothing more than to curse out loud and stomp on the ground. You have been tricked and that was just the drop that made the glass overflow.

You woke up with a massive headache and after forcing yourself to eat a bit, you could finally drink medication. By the time you were ready to leave your rental apartment, the timetable you made for today was already long forgotten – you’re at least an hour late.

But that isn’t a problem. It’s not even the ever confusing metro, because somehow, with a lot of help from locals, you’ve managed to figure out where you should wait for the right ride to Versailles. All of it was a bit stress inducing but definitely not a problem. The real problem occurred when you were in front of the magnificent golden gates, which you couldn’t even see because of the massive line.

Clutching your fast pass ticket, you approach a smaller line leading to the entrance, hoping and praying that you weren’t wasting your time waiting there instead of in the massive crowd, hoping that your fast pass can actually let you pass, fast.

You were mistaken. Apparently, every single human being waiting in the long ass line also had the fast pass ticket. How long do people without a fast pass have to wait is a question you don’t even want to know the answer to. With a few huffs and puffs, you took your place in line, annoyed at anything and everything, starting from the stupid agency who sold you this worthless ticket, right down to your best friend who suggested taking this trip together, only to bail on you to let her boyfriend take her to Ibiza.

As if all of that was not enough to ruin your mood, rain had started to fall, damping your clothes enough so that they match your mood.  At least you were ready for it, having read up about the unpredictable early summer rains of Paris and making sure to never leave the apartment without your hideously yellow umbrella.

An hour and a half later, you finally put the damn fast pass into use and enter the extravagant home of some Louis – you’re not ashamed to admit to not know which one. After all, you were about to learn.

The inside of the magnificent palace left you with mixed emotions, in all honesty. On one hand, it truly is as grand and striking as you had always imagined it to be. On the other hand, the crowd was killing you. Teens running around and touching things they shouldn’t be touching, people looking at everything through the screen of their phones and cameras instead of actually looking… It all left you feeling a bit on edge and wishing you had a chance to attend a private tour or something. Knowing that you will probably experience the same thing later today in the Louvre wasn’t helping either.

Every time you would pass a window, you found yourself wanting to be outside and after an hour of torture and not being able to enjoy anything, you have finally given up – fuck the rain, fuck it all – most people are still inside to avoid the rain after all and you do have your trusted umbrella with you.

Stepping into the gardens of Versailles was the best decision you could have made and you regretted not making it sooner. There were very few people outside and even the light drizzle could not ruin the experience of such a beautiful place. It’s fascinating, really, to look from the balcony above and to not see the end to all the gardens, green labyrinths, with many fountains and statues placed at nearly every corner.

It was almost impossible for you to decide where to start, so you just decided to roam freely, with no end goal in mind. You don’t even bother with your camera much, once you reach the seemingly endless green maze. The view from higher ground is magnificent but as you walk around, all you see is green hedges, incredibly tall green hedges – a very literal maze of plants. The smell is comforting – a mixture of the familiar smell of rain and of plants – more specifically, grass.

You wander around, enjoying the peace and quiet. There are more people in the maze but they are far from you and compared to the crowd you were in just minutes ago, they are ignorable, unless they are heading directly in your direction.

You recognize him instantly – other than a few locals you’ve asked for directions, he is the only person you exchanged more than one sentence with – it’s the guy from ‘Shakespeare and Company’, walking towards you. Your fear of awkwardness makes you lower the umbrella so that you can pretend that you simply didn’t see him. You only lift the umbrella up when you see his feet walk by you.

It would be weird and awkward. What do you say to someone you recognize but don’t really know? Hey? What if he doesn’t remember you and you embarrass yourself for no good reason? No, this was completely ignorable, luckily for you.

You are not fast enough the second time. The next crossroad in the maze leaves you making eye contact with him, as he is standing parallel to you, with a solid distance in-between. Solid enough for you to still pretend you do not recognized him. The eye contact made you feel a bit uneasy because what if he remembers you too? The awkwardness you’ve wanted to avoid might have just doubled.

So you walk on, taking a left turn as soon as you find one, finding the first ‘hidden room’ of the maze and a breathtaking, extravagant fountain that all but begs for you to take photos of it. Consciously steering away from the direction he seemed to have been taking, you walk along.

Left, straight, left again, straight, a bit to the right – you even manage to lose track of your surroundings, hoping that you are heading towards the gigantic fountain you’ve seen from the upper balcony.

Yet somehow, you still manage to see him again and much to your dismay, make direct eye contact. He is standing parallel from you and before you turned around and started walking, you could see what looked like mild confusion on his face.

Crap. He must have recognized you to a certain extent and now you’re making it painfully obvious that you are running away from him. For no good reason, too. You could have simply said “Oh hey, I remember you from yesterday, enjoy Versailles” or something along that line and made your exit but no, god no, you just had to make a fool of yourself.

You’ve never taken pride in your title of awkward social potato and this little mishap has to rank pretty high on your list of embarrassing moments. Sure, weird eye contact isn’t that big of a deal but the fact that it could have been easily avoid it and wasn’t only makes it 10 times worse.

Surprisingly enough, as soon as you realize that you’re being ridiculous, you have a chance for a do-over.

By the time you’ve reached the grand fountain, with a very confusing yet majestic statue of horses in the middle of it, you see him again, standing right on the edge of it, luckily not looking your way. Once again you are reminded of just how good looking he is and it’s not helping you with what you are about to do, since insanely attractive men tend to make you nervous and tongue tied.

“Well, at least the Versailles was open,” you try to sound as casual as possible as you stand a few feet away from him, watching as confusion disappears from his face as he puts two and two together.

“I thought I recognized you,” he laughs and you realize that his laughter is as melodic as his voice. Damn him. “They opened yesterday minutes after you left,” he tells you and to that you shrug.

“Nine days in Paris aren’t enough – I had museums to see,” you tell him, watching as he nods in understanding, still smiling at you. “I hope you enjoyed it, though.”

“I did,” he tells you. “Since you’re here, would you mind taking a photo of me?” he sounds as sheepish as you did yesterday. “You’re the only stranger I’d trust with my camera,” he adds. He makes a simple sentence like that hit you like a full force flirt and by the time you actually take the camera from his hands, you are positive you are blushing.

You take a few photos of him, his insanely good profile in particular, hoping that you are not drooling all over yourself. “Return the favor?” you ask, lifting your own camera, to which he laughs and extends his hand to you.

Posing is always awkward, period. Posing to a hot stranger is borderline traumatic. You do it anyways, looking away from the camera because you’ve had enough “eye contact” with him to last you a lifetime. Awkwardly standing in front of him, you wait as he checks the photos before smiling up at you and offering the camera back to you. “Perfect.”

“Thanks. Enjoy the rest of Versailles,” you casually announce your departure, feeling relieved and regretful at the same time as you walk away from him, backwards. In all honesty, the kind smile on your face made you want to stick around for a while longer.

“Thanks, you too.”

You turn around and walk away, taking a deep breath to relax yourself. The Louvre awaits – hot strangers will have their turn some other time.  

Four days in Paris were enough for you to start your own list of unpopular, maybe even popular, opinions about the city. You were always interested in the city but never obsessed with it, like many are, so you’d say that your opinions are unbiased, at least to a certain extent.

For example, Parisians are nice and they actually do make an effort to speak English if you ask them something. Of course, not everyone has the same experience but the urban myth of them being condescending, rude and downright ignoring people who speak English was proven to be false.

Yes, the city is gorgeous but it has so much to offer beside a fairly tall tower.

And last, but certainly not least – the Louvre is overrated.

After waiting in rain, again (not the museum’s fault, obviously), you finally got inside, only to proceed and get lost four times. Actual four times, you had no idea where you were and where you were supposed to go next. You were nearly trampled in front of the Mona Lisa, all while watching in shock as the people were pushing each other to try and take a selfie with the iconic painting behind them. That was the first instance when you thought how much you hate people. The next one was when you saw a grown adult, a man in his 30s, grabbing an antique Greek statue by the balls.

It was at that point that the museum walking became torture to you. Paired with its confusing layout and the employees who either truly had no idea how to help you or simply didn’t want to bother with helping a pesky tourist, you ended up wandering aimlessly, looking at everything and nothing at all, wondering how much it would cost to get an exclusive, chaperoned, after-hours tour of the Louvre. Probably too much for someone who’s keeping cheap ramen in their rented apartment.

Muse d’Orsay, your present location, is something else entirely. It is painfully obvious that at least a third of the yesterday’s crowd only went to the Luvre because someone told them they should, you overheard a few say as much, and compared to that, the visitors of Muse d’Orsay came here on their own accord. It is decently full, but not crowded. The only place where you actually had to wait in line was in front of Van Gogh’s artwork, which was to be expected.

The entire place is casual, yet sophisticated, far less confusing compared to the gigantic mess that is The Louvre. You can take your time and go wherever, without having to consult a map and pray that you’re not confusing yourself even further. You can also sit and relax for a little while, which is something your tired feet are extremely grateful for but in a very unusual way, the people around you are making you feel uncomfortable. Most of them are casually sitting and sketching the gigantic clock, the centerpiece of Muse d’Orsay and while observing that is beautiful, it also remindes you that you are, to put it nicely, talentless in the same field.

So you keep on roaming, until you find your place on a bench set before an enormous painting. Definitely three times, if not four, your height, The Women of Gaul has your full attention. The piece is as eerie and hauntingly beautiful as it is confusing – like many times over the last couple of days, you’re not sure where to look first. What catches your attention, bizarrely, is the center character – a woman, standing tall and proud with an angry look on her face and holding a dead baby by the arm.

It appears as if she has killed the baby on her own accord – she’d rather lose everything she has than surrender. Admirable and scary at the same time. With all due respect to the masterpiece, she looks ready to bitchslap some soldiers.

“We meet again, stranger,” you only realize someone is talking to you when they sit a few feet away from you and you nearly choke on dry air when you realize it’s him – the Shakespeare guy, the Versailles guy, your unofficial photographer, in all of his ripped jeans glory.

“Wow,” you laugh. How big is Paris? How many people live here, how many tourists roam the streets every day? And yet three days in a row, you see him. “We keep bumping into each other.”

“Looks like our travel itineraries keep overlapping,” he chuckles. “I’m Jimin, by the way,” he adds, before the silence turns awkward. “It’s nice to officially meet you,” he offers you his hand, which you accept instantly.

“Y/N,” you shake his hand. “So, how’s Paris working out for you?”

“I love it,” he admits, looking away from you to focus on the much less friendlier woman in the painting in front of you. “I like it more than I thought I would, in all honesty.”

“Same here,” you admit, finding it quite easy to talk to him, given that you are usually definitely more apprehensive when it comes to people you don’t know. But hey, you know his name now – that counts, right? “From word of mouth alone, I thought it was a bit overrated but it has its charms. Plenty of them, actually.”

“Museums or city streets?” he asks, turning to look at you again. He has striking, dark eyes that have no trouble looking directly at yours – you, on the other hand, swallow a lump. “Which do you enjoy more?”

“A bit of both, depends on the day,” you sound way more casual than you feel. “You?”

“City streets,” he answers, focusing on the painting again. “Art is amazing but art is art, wherever you are. While cities… they’re all different. Each city has its own thing and as much as I enjoy looking at artwork, I’d rather pick… exploring the city, breathing it in. Polluted air and all.”

“Makes sense,” you agree, knowing just how right he is. A museum is a museum, whether it’s in Paris or the tiniest of towns. It’s fascinating but it’s still a building with four walls and a roof – outside, the streets, the people, the charm distinct to each city – that’s where all the fun is at.

“Have you seen the impressionism area?” he asks.

“Not yet, why?”

“Me neither,” he laughs, confusing you a bit. “Travelling alone is fun but at times it can get painfully dull. I thought maybe you’d want to look around the museum a bit more and then we can go somewhere?”

Oh. Okay. He wants your company. Surprising, yet flattering.

“I’d love to,” you find yourself answering, ignoring all the possible red flags you probably should have not ignored – after all, this is fairly similar to the plot of Taken, and you don’t have a Liam Neeson waiting to rescue you. Mr. Ripped Jeans Jimin has a point – travelling alone can be very dull. With how the two of you have been running into each other for days now, it seems like the universe wants you to have someone to talk to for a while. “Anywhere you’d like to go in particular?”

“Montmartre?” he suggests after considering your question for a few seconds. “The stairs in front of Sacré-Cœur are always a good idea?”

He isn’t wrong - Sacré-Cœur is very much on your bucket list – scheduled for tomorrow, right on time to see the sunset. But at the same time, you have no specific plans for this afternoon and Jimin does seem like he could be good company.

Why not?

“Sounds like a plan,” you agree, feeling a metaphorical punch to your gut when his face lights up once you agree with his idea. “Let’s see those impressionists first, shall we?”

The language barrier is quite something. Despite knowing a few basic French words and phrases, your pronunciation is so damn tragic, no transaction was possible without the use of English and sometimes, like right now, lots of waving and pointing.

Jimin was looking at you in amusement while you desperately tried to explain that you need one chocolate croissant. By the point the lady behind the counter understood what you wanted, you were more than happy to leave with whatever the hell she’d give you, even if it’s not your precious croissant.

“Do you want something? Are you hungry?” you ask, wanting to treat him to some food since he insisted on paying for the bottle of wine that is currently in his backpack.

He nods, proceeding to speak to state his order in what sounds like fluent French. “I got some for you too,” he tells you as he elegantly stands in front of you, taking out his wallet and smiling as he sees that you are about to protest. “No way,” he shakes his head. “I’m paying – I ordered more. Besides, if you are buying the chocolate croissant, you obviously have no idea what you’re doing.”

A comment like that could have sounded extremely condescending coming from anyone else, but from Jimin, with his kind smile? No way. “You did not just diss a chocolate croissant!”

“Oh, yes I did,” he chuckles as he rushes to offer money before you can – defeated, but a little glad, you return your wallet into the bag, thinking how maybe you will treat yourself to more than instant ramen for your lunch tomorrow. “I love chocolate as much as the next guy but the raisin one? Hell, even the plain one – much better,” he tells as he takes the bag and exits the bakery, leaving you to follow him.

“I’m all for experimenting but come on – it’s a chocolate croissant. It can’t be bad.”

“I’ve never said it was bad,” he laughs at you as you finally catch up with him and the two of you walk side by side. “I’ve just said others were better, which you will confirm once you try them. Now – do we walk or do we waste money on the lift?”

How can a question so simple be so complicated? Your feet hurt, you’ve walked more since you landed in Paris than you have the whole last month – of course you want to take the lift and avoid unnecessary stairs. On the other hand, stairs pretty much guarantee that you will have more time to spend with Jimin and so far, he’s been a decent companion.

“How about… we take the lift to go up and we walk on our way down?” you suggest.

“Deal.”

He didn’t have a chance to see Montmarte either, he tells you on your way up. Much like you, he had a schedule and he kept to it. Until today, when he spontaneously dropped his plans and invited you to spend the rest of the day with him. You did not have solid plans to begin with, so it wasn’t much of a change, save from the fact that you were in good company.

And good company he was – surprisingly, there weren’t many moments of awkward silence as the two of you tried to find a place that fits you both – that was a challenge, seeing as many people have gathered to enjoy the view, a nice drink and an impromptu performance by buskers. In the corner of the stairs, a little bit away from the crowd, the two of you sit and it’s a matter of seconds before Jimin is opening the bottle of wine with a swiss knife he pulled out of his bag – a bag that looks like it costs more than your monthly rent – not that you were paying any attention to it.

“So…” he starts, pausing to smile at you as he gives you your cup, before moving on to fill his own. “Tell me something about yourself. I only know your name and that we live in the same city.”

“And yet somehow we’ve met on a different continent,” you add, smiling when he ‘clinks’ his plastic cup against yours. “What would you like to know?”

“Anything,” he shrugs, nodding in approval at the taste of the wine. “Why Paris? Why alone? What’s your favorite color? An actor you hate but can’t explain why? Tell me anything.”

“Why Paris? Why not Paris? There are so many places I want to see, cities I want to explore and it all had to start somewhere. My friend had wanted to see Paris while I was pretty much up for anything. Of course, she then decided that Ibiza with her boytoy sounds like a better idea than Paris with her friend,” you add, sounding just a little bitter. It’s not the nicest thing she has done but you’ll get over it.

“And your boyfriend was not interested in the beauty of France?”

Now you are confused. His raised eyebrow and tiny, barely there smile, tell you that he is absolutely asking about your boyfriend for no other reason but to confirm whether or not you have one. However, this wouldn’t be the first time for you to completely misread signs and confuse flirting with casual conversation. You decide to play it safe and not waste time on reading between the lines.

“Don’t have one,” you shrug, looking away from him and focusing on the buskers. “It does get quite boring after a while. It would be nice to have a travel partner.”

“And if you don’t, you can always ask a random, kind stranger to take your photos for you?” you join in on his laugh, glad that you spoke up that day in front of ‘Shakespeare and Company’. If you hadn’t, chances are you wouldn’t have a conversation in Versailles, which then would not continue today.

If he can do it, so can you – the can of worms is wide open. “And what does your girlfriend say about you traveling without her?” you asks, before backtracking quickly. “Or boyfriend. Or one of each, really,” you add, making him laugh.

God, there really is no smooth way to ask about the relationship status of someone you barely know, someone you’re not even completely sure you like. If two are at a club, where the music is loud and they can’t even keep a conversation, ‘are you single’ is completely acceptable. And that setting is perfect for a rejection – if they say no, you just dance away to your drink or to the next person.

This? It’s a warm day in Paris and you are surrounded by people of all ages, families even. You have been talking about the city, travelling, art and now what, ‘are you single’ or ‘would you be interested in sleeping with me’ is the next topic of conversation? No, it doesn’t work that way. Especially when you’re not even sure what you want, much less what he wants.

“Well, I don’t have either of the two so I can’t really answer that,” is that a hint of a smirk you see on his face? Okay, you may not be a champion at flirting but it looks like things are heading that way.

“Interesting,” you mumble, earning an eyebrow raise from him. Shit. You panic and focus on the plastic cup full of wine, hoping that if you drink enough of it fast, the blush that is taking over your face can be attributed to the alcohol. It doesn’t help – you move the cup away and meet his eyes, only to find him obviously waiting for you to explain your comment.

“Are you going to explain why that’s interesting on your own or should I ask about it and force you to elaborate?” he asks and you immediately turn to your cup, making him laugh, loudly, in a way that makes his eyes crinkle and his whole body move.

“I’m awkward, please don’t make it any worse,” you tell him, a part of you hoping he won’t hear you.

“As you wish,” he is still laughing and you still want to die of embarrassment. That being said, him teasing you is a good sign, you think. Now, you’re fairly certain that you absolutely are in the flirting territory and while that doesn’t make things easier for you one bit, at least now you know you perhaps won’t make a fool of yourself if you are more straightforward. Or maybe you will. Who knows?! “Y/N, do you believe in destiny?” he asks and while you’re glad the topic is changed… really?

“That’s such a broad question,” you chuckle, pausing to think about it for a second. “I suppose I do, but you’re going to have to be a bit more specific than that. What kind of destiny?”

“Okay… first, do you believe that it’s all planned out? Like, your entire life?” he asks.

“Hardly,” you answer immediately, having thought about that already, many times in your life. “I suppose that to a certain extent, it is destiny. Like… the situations that you will be put in. But your reactions to said situations are your own. Destiny can’t control how you, or the people in your life, react to something. So I guess… no?” you try to sum it up, laughing at your own rant.

“Makes sense,” he agrees as he leans back, now almost lying down on the staircase, propped on his elbow as he looks away from you and towards the magnificent view of Paris. You realize once again that he looks like a full course meal, skinny jeans and all, and you reach for your plastic cup for solace, again. “Some things are set in stone… like where you’re born, who your parents are, maybe even who you’re going to be in life. But not the tiny details… like what kind of friend you are, if you can cook or not, who will be your first kiss and so on… Is that what you meant?” he asks, suddenly turning his eyes on you and faced with them, you nearly choke on the drink you’ve been hiding behind.

Damn him and his eyes. And his smirk. And yes, his ripped skinny jeans too.

“Yeah, something like that.”

“And what about us?” he asks, smirking your way again. “We’ve been running into each other all over Paris… that’s why I thought that there has to be a reason behind it… don’t you agree?”

“Could be,” you agree, knowing that no matter how skeptical you might be about the concept of destiny, even you have to admit that the amount of times the two of you have crossed paths this week is something unusual. “You think it was destined for two of us to meet and hang out on these stairs?”

“Why not?” he laughs, sensing the trace of skepticism behind your words, even though you mostly agreed with him. “I can accept that not every cute girl I meet is destiny playing its tune but we couldn’t have avoided each other even if we tried, could we?”

You’re cute. Okay. You can live with that. You can definitely live with that.

“What else does destiny want us to do?”

You’ll admit it, you feel bolder now, knowing how shamelessly he had admitted that he obviously thinks you’re cute. Sure, you’re not nearly as bold as you wish you were but… step by step?

“Well, there’s this party down at the 8th Arrondissement that I thought of going to. Nothing huge, just a regular club. We don’t have to, if you don’t feel like partying. If you do, we can sit here for a while longer and then take a cab down there or something?” he suggests.

First he thinks you’re cute. Then he wants you to go clubbing. Sure, he isn’t hitting on you per se, but he obviously wants to spend more time with you and knowing that makes you feel like you’ve won the lottery. Maybe it’s the butterflies that you’re feeling now, after ages of them being MIA, maybe it’s the way Jimin looks at you, with the tiniest of smirks gracing his face, or maybe it’s just Jimin himself – you’re not sure and frankly, it doesn’t matter. Bottom line is, he wants to spend more time with you and despite you not really giving a shit about destiny, you do want to spend more time with him too.

“Sounds like a good idea.”

And then he goes and bites his lip, mid-smile.

Yeah, there’s no way in hell you’ll survive clubbing with him. But you’ll be damned if you don’t try.

It didn’t take you long to realize that Jimin is a piece of work, in the best ways.

He is confident when approaching strangers, whether it was you, earlier today, or a random person to ask if the two of you could join their table. He can handle his drink and he does, in fact, drink quite a bit. His behavior doesn’t change – he’s still smiley, friendly, his words never slurring, his walk as perfect and sexy as it was when he was 100% sober – the only real change in his appearance is that three tequila shots in, he’s red in the face.

You? You’ve stopped drinking one shot ago, not wanting to push yourself into the state of ‘please fuck me in the alley behind this park, Mr. Stranger’ because you do tend to turn clingy after drinking a bit too much. No, this time around, you’ve kept yourself tipsy enough to throw away some inhibitions but sober enough to not jump on the guy in the middle of a crowded club.

And lord almighty, it is crowded.

You would have never thought that Parisians and a couple of tourists would be this into 90s trash music but here you are, dancing the night away with a hot as hell stranger to the tune of ‘Be My Lover’. You’ve been dancing nonstop for what feels like hours, the only break happening when he goes to the bar to get the two of you drinks and you take that chance to lean against the wall to catch your breath.

You want to chastise yourself for trusting a stranger with your drink but after debating it while you were still sober, you’ve come to the conclusion that you’re going to trust said stranger. 

Taking a deep breath, you rummage through your bag, trying to find something to cool yourself down with, settling for a brochure you had picked up in Musée d'Orsay earlier today. You fan yourself, staying comfortably away from the crowd that’s dancing like their life depends on it.

It’s hot, it’s crowded, you’re tipsy and if you’re being completely honest, you’re turned on. Yes, in a tiny, dark, hole of a club, with a 90s eurodance song in Spanish blasting through the speakers, you can still manage to feel that way and it’s solely because of him.

For the past two hours, he has been flirting with you in ways that make you wonder if he’s actually flirting of he’s a hallucination of your deranged mind.

He hasn’t stopped touching you all night, but he does so in ways that are not… obvious. He holds your hand while you are walking through the crowd. He puts his hands on your waist while you’re dancing, but they’re positioned in a way that makes you think he just enjoys having a dance partner, not that he wants to fuck your brains out. He is close, but not close enough to make you wonder if maybe, just maybe, he wants to kiss you. It’s driving you insane and you’re feeling hot – literally and metaphorically.

The song changed to something a bit more bearable for listening, but still trashy enough, when you finally felt your body relaxing and calming down after the onslaught of senses it has been through in the last two hours. However, the moment you think you’ll manage to cool your head, you see him.

It’s not that he is hot. Sure, he is hot as hell and nice on the eyes, which is something you see others noticing, as they turn their heads while he walks past them, drinks in hand. It’s not that he is so damn charming, although that plays a part too. What’s really getting to you is simply the way he looks at you.

Even now, in the crowd, as he makes his way to your little makeshift hideaway, his eyes are directly on you. He’s not even paying attention on if he’s spilling your drinks or not – nope, he is looking right at you. And despite the feeling of panic that causes, you can’t look away. You can’t hide from it, you can’t fight it – you just have to keep eye contact with him, even though you feel like weak prey.

You’d lie if you say that there weren’t moments when his eyes would look… elsewhere. Your lips, your neck or at the tiny trace of cleavage your shirt lets him see (is that one a blessing or a curse?)…  That you could deal with, as much as you were figuratively on fire. But a man with confidence to look you directly in the eyes, all the time? Yeah, you’ve kind of wanted die.

Especially now, with him sliding through the cracks between people, smiling your way, eyes burning into yours. With mere seconds to get yourself ready for him, you take a deep breath, thanking your lucky stars that he looked away, enough to put your drinks on the table next to you.

“I know you didn’t want anything, but I got you a cocktail in case you change your mind later,” he tells you and the only reason you actually understand every word he is saying is because you are staring at his lips. The music is loud, loud enough to make you want to come closer to him and ask him to repeat his words but at this point, you are a certified lip reader because good god, his lips.

“That’s okay.”

You wanted to say more, you really did, but the moment he put those drinks down, his hands were on your waist and he was close now, closer than he was before, with just an inch of space between your face and his. And even this close, even with a damn inch between the two of you, he stares into your eyes, directly into your eyes, as if he knows what he’s doing to you. And frankly, he most likely does.

“Let’s dance, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You let him take you down into the crowd again, not even noticing the loss of your precious brochure you’ve used as a makeshift fan. You let him stay close to you and you let him keep his hands on you at all times. You let him take over your entire mind, knowing that at this point, you can’t think of anything that isn’t him.

Where? Where are guys like these? Where are guys who are confident, funny, charming and sexy, without trying to get into your pants like desperate teenagers? He has the right amount of everything and a part of you wonders where are others like him? But with him in front of you, directly in front of you, with barely an inch of thin air between you, does it really matter?

You’ve given up, totally and completely. You let him eat you up with his eyes, sway your hips to the beats of bad music in any direction he wants, smiling back at him when he smiles at you.

He is closer now, even closer than before, your noses brushing against each other every other moment. He is closer and you feel like you’re going to faint if he doesn’t do something, anything really.

It’s a weird feeling to describe. You don’t know what you want but you want it, bad. And while in theory, it would be easy to take the last step and just kiss him, you can’t do it. What’s stopping you – you don’t know, you really don’t. Yes, he hasn’t explicitly said that he wants you to do anything but his actions speak enough on their own. You could close the space between the two of you and end the misery but you can’t. Something is stopping you and at this point, it feels suffocating.

All of it. Him, the crowd, the sweaty bodies all around you – it’s too much. You need fresh air. Right now.

“What time is it?” you yell at him and you can see he’s surprised – you’ve mostly been quiet, overcome with everything else to form rational thoughts. Not only that, but you’re asking about time, of all things.

“Almost 1:30AM,” he tells you, after glancing on his wristwatch, before returning the hand back on your waist. “Why? Do you want to leave?” he asks and for one second, one damn second, you see a trace of something other than pure confidence on his face. It’s not insecurity or worry, not even disappointment. It looks like a mix of all three and something else, but it’s all very faint and lasts for barely a second before he smiles at you. “It’s okay if you do. Truly.”

“It’s not that I want to leave,” you mumble, before remembering you’re in a damn club. So, you close the space between the two of you and put your lips to his ear, brushing his skin as you speak. “It’s not that I want to leave. But I need some fresh air. We can come back if you want to.”

“You want me to go with you?” he asks as you pull away and you nod. “You sure?” he asks, looking at you with worry in his eyes. He’s questioning it, if only a little bit, probably worried that you’re running away and he’s being pushy. Which isn’t the truth. You are running away, but not from him, not exactly.

“Yes,” you laugh, taking his hand, as if to show that you mean it. He smiles back at you and leads the way. You think he’d go back to your borrowed table, so that he can finish his drink but he doesn’t seem to care. Instead, he leads the way to the area where you left your bags in exchange for 5 euros.

Seeing as you are the only ones leaving this early, the exchange for your stuff is quick and by the time you are breathing in the cool Paris air, it hasn’t been more than a few minutes since you’ve expressed your desire to leave. And the cool air helps. Well, it’s either the cool air or the fact that Jimin isn’t attached to you at this moment. With a bit of distance between you, you can actually use your brain.

“Are you okay?” he asks as he watches you take deep breaths. “We can walk it off if you’ve had too much to drink? I can walk you back to your place if you want to leave?” he suggests.

“No,” you smile at him, feeling a little bit overwhelmed by how helpful he is, as well as worried. “I’m not wasted. I don’t even know if I’m tipsy anymore,” you tell him. Sure, you might not be tipsy from the alcohol but he is a different story – you are very much drunk on him. But you won’t tell him that. “I just needed a bit of air. Maybe we can walk? Then come back or something?”

“Sure, yeah,” he nods and you lead the way. “You know, we don’t have to come back here because of me. I’m perfectly fine with just walking around. We can go somewhere else or find a bench to sit on. I can call a cab for you if you want to go back to your place.”

“I’m enjoying tonight very much,” you reassure him. There are… so many other things that you’d like to say, about him and the way he makes you feel, but you just… don’t have the balls to do so. So you simply settle with reassuring him that you’re enjoying the night. “Let’s just walk around and then figure out what we want to do next. The same goes for you – I’m fine with doing whatever you want to do.”

“You know, the last light show of the night is at 2AM,” he tells you, glancing at his watch quickly. “We can still catch it, if you’d like to. Maybe we even have time to go to the tower itself but we can definitely make it to Trocadéro on time?” he suggests and even though you normally refuse to be such a basic tourist, a huge part of you is excited at the thought of seeing the tower light up.

“I haven’t seen it yet. You want to go?” you ask, continuing with the tradition he had started of questioning everything for whatever reason.

“Sure, let’s go.”

There are people roaming around the area – of course there are, it’s Paris, there are tourists in every nook and cranny of the damn city. However, the numbers are smaller than they were when you went here the other day. You were definitely not alone but you did manage to find a section of the fence where no one was waiting with their cameras ready. Which is exactly what the two of you are doing now, waiting to capture the perfect moment of the tower lighting up.

You’ve been fairly quiet since you’ve left the club but it wasn’t the negative kind of silence, not at all. It was the silence that comes after a slightly overwhelming moment. You’re not sure if Jimin feels the same and if he does, he sure didn’t show it, but he was quiet along with you, speaking up only when you do, smiling your way whenever you’ve felt brave enough to make direct eye contact. It was comfortable and it made you realize just how much you have let this total stranger get under your skin.

“Doesn’t this feel a bit like the New Year’s countdown?” you ask, adjusting your camera so that the tower is right in the center of it – as much as Jimin is overwhelming, you still want to capture a decent photograph. It’s a once in a lifetime event. At least for us, non-Parisian commoners.

“It does,” he chuckles. “Ah, here we go!”

It’s impossible not to laugh at all the sighs of wonder you hear coming from around you. Yes, it’s a beautiful sight but… come on! It’s not a natural phenomenon; it’s a tower with lights on it! You sense Jimin reacting to it the same way you do, laughing a bit at the amazement of everyone around you but still taking a photo and enjoying the moment.

“Wait, let me take a photo of you,” he tells you and to your surprise, he doesn’t ask for your camera – he simply steps back with his. You don’t say anything and you try not to think too much of it but at the very least you are now expecting an exchange of social media or emails, knowing that you now have a perfect excuse of contacting him. Unable to hide a smile at the realization, you try to strike a casual pose, all while feeling like a complete idiot because he is looking at you again. “Wait,” he suddenly says and walks back up to you, reaching his hand closer to your face. “May I?”

You nod, not even sure what exactly you’re agreeing to here. Gently, he runs his hand through your hair, similar to the way he runs it through his own hair a few times a minute, messing it up a little bit. You don’t exactly have a mirror on you right now, but you imagine it’s the cute kind of messy, not the messy kind of messy. Why would he want you to look like shit for the photo? So, you let him, trying to ignore the way your pulse races because of him being so close. “There,” he steps away from you, smiling.

“Messy enough?” you joke, laughing when he does.

“It’s not messy, it’s sexy,” he tells you and yeah, your stupid heart is in overdrive, the butterflies in your stomach wilding and your face absolutely blushing. “It’s cute, natural. It’s more you than the preppy pose you’ve just tried to pull off,” and now he kind of insulted you.

“Hey!” you snap back, unable to keep a straight face when he starts laughing again. “You’ve known me for a few hours, how do you know preppy poses aren’t my thing?”

“I just know,” he shrugs. “Now act natural. Smile.”

You wanted to fight him back in a passive aggressive way and remain preppy but you just can’t – not with him making you smile. So you smile and giggle, pretending like he doesn’t have a camera in front of his face. If he wants you to be natural, you’re going to be natural.

After a few shots, he moves the camera away from his face and gives you the most blinding smile he had given you so far.

“Your turn,” you order him, unsure how you can even talk anymore. You feel like jelly on the inside and it’s actually quite worrying, seeing as you haven’t felt like this many times in your life. Of course, you liked people, you dated people, hell you’ve even loved a guy or two! But god good, they’re not Jimin. The guy has it all and all of it is affecting you in ways you didn’t know you could be affected.

You swallow a few lumps as you try to focus on the tower too, and not just him, because yes, it kind of needs to be in the picture too and that is the whole point of this, isn’t it? It takes you a few tries but you end up with a good shot. No matter how tonight ends, you’ll have a palpable memory of Jimin saved in your camera and you’d be lying to yourself if you say that doesn’t make you feel a bit more at ease.

“How can something be so tacky and so breathtakingly beautiful at the same time?” you ask while walking back towards the fence, letting the camera dangle around your neck as you stand next to Jimin.

“It really is amazing, isn’t it?” he chuckles. This time around, you are the one shamelessly staring – he is too preoccupied with looking at the tower. “I don’t know what it is. I don’t know if it’s Paris, or just tonight or maybe even you, but everything feels so… I don’t know, honestly,” he laughs, shaking his head as if he’s in disbelief. “I guess I’m just… really enjoying tonight.”

Here he is, this… beautiful, hot, kind, charming stranger, right next to you. Just a few days ago, he was no more than a fellow tourist. Just a few days ago, you didn’t think much of him. Today was a different story. Today, he didn’t let you push him into the back of your mind. Today he had made himself the focus of your day, night and quite frankly, this whole damn trip.

You don’t have to see him ever again if you don’t want to. If destiny keeps messing with you, you might run into him back home but by then, enough time would have passed for you to be able to keep your cool. If it goes good… it’ll go good. And if it goes bad, you can go back to pretending like none of this ever happened, and that your whole Parisian escapade was not Jimin centric. It might be easier said than done but you’re a tough cookie. You can do it.

Why not go for it? Seriously Y/N, why not go for it?

So you do.

You step closer to him and reach your hand out, putting it on his cheek and turning him to face you – he doesn’t have enough time to react properly but you can see the flash of surprise on his face. There is no time for him to say or do anything, because you lean in and press your lips to his.

Fuck it. Seriously, just fuck it. You’re here, he’s here and with doing practically nothing, he’d made you feel more than you’ve felt in months. As tacky as it is, you truly do only live once and you know yourself well enough to know you’d end up regretting not doing this.

You might regret it anyways, who knows. But you’d eat yourself away if you hadn’t gone for it.

You’d be lying if you said that the kiss is magical. Really, it’s awkward. Your lips are not much in comparison to his beautifully plump ones and while that could be overpowering, he technically isn’t moving. What you thought would be a kiss that would rock your world, ends up being nothing more than one slightly longer peck because he isn’t moving.

You can feel it – you’ve fucked up. You went for it and in hindsight, you shouldn’t have. Feeling absolutely mortified by his lack of response, you pull away, feeling even worse when you see the way he’s looking at you – no awe, no surprise, no excitement. He doesn’t look pissed either, or confused. It’s difficult to describe it but he’s almost… scowling at you.

You’ve fucked it up. But that’s okay. At least you won’t wonder about the ‘what ifs’.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, looking away from him quickly. As much as you’re trying to reassure yourself that it’s better to know than to wonder, you’re absolutely dying on the inside. If there’s a hole near here in which you could hide, right this second, you’d go there. Alas, you’re out in the open and have to deal with the mess you’ve made. “I guess I’ve misread the signals. I-“

With his hand on your back, he pulls you smack into his chest, not leaving any room between the two of you whatsoever. All that you see is him leaning into you with his eyes closed.

It’s not a peck – it’s anything but a peck. His lips guide yours to open and not even a second later, you feel his tongue moving against yours. He pulls you even closer to him, your bodies practically stuck together, with your hands squished between you. You feel him run his other hand through your hair, turning your head a bit towards the side so that he can have more access to you, as if he hadn’t had enough to begin with. His tongue is relentless and you’re absolutely sure that you’re about to faint, knees barely managing to keep your body standing.

You have never been kissed like this. Definitely not in public.

He pulls away slowly, tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth as he goes. He’s not scowling like he was moments ago, but he’s also not the cute, smiley Jimin he was for the better part of the day.

And you? You’re honestly struggling to breathe. A kiss is a surprise itself but a kiss like that is not something that’s easy to survive. You’re well aware that you’re practically panting because of him but it’s hardly something you can hide. You’re affected and you’re going to be affected, no matter how embarrassed you are about it.

“If you’re going to kiss me,” his voice is low, much lower than before and it’s not helping your situation at all. “You should kiss me like you mean it.”

Fuck everything.

You grab his shirt and pull him towards you once again.

Life works in mysterious ways. Just this morning, you were a regular tourist, doing regular tourist things, sticking to your itinerary as you try to cram all of Paris into one week. And now? Now you’re pressed up against a wall of a random building in a part of town you haven’t ventured into before, making out with the hottest guy you have ever met, who is also pretty much still a stranger.

You don’t even care about how uncomfortable you are in this position – him kissing you makes it all better, very literally. He is a marvelous kisser – hungry, but not overpowering, with lips for days. He smells of cologne you have never smelt before but somehow know you won’t be able to forget anytime soon. Even the soft cotton of his white shirt that your hand is digging into feels heavenly.

Jimin, Jimin, Jimin. All you can focus on is Jimin, to the point of even almost managing to ignore a whistle directed towards the two of you.

You’ve had it coming, really – almost dry humping in the middle of the street. When Jimin starts to pull away, probably because of the wolf whistle, you still chase after him, desperately trying to keep your lips stuck together. He still moves away but not too far – he nuzzles into your neck, leaving you gasping for air at the feel of his lips attacking your neck.

Is it too far? Maybe. But too far is the exact direction in which you want to go.

“Do you want to go somewhere?” you suggest. You’ve never directly propositioned sex to someone you weren’t in a relationship with and while you were internally panicking, you also know he probably won’t refuse you. Unless the thing you’re feeling against your thigh is his phone and not him being happy to see you. “My airnbn is a bit far but we can go there?” you suggest, not wanting to be too direct and invite yourself to his place. Honestly, you’d even go into a public toilet at this point, but you’ll keep that bit of information to yourself.

He doesn’t respond immediately and you would have worried about it, if he wasn’t preoccupied with biting your neck, with enough force to leave marks and make you want to crumble. You shudder, actually shudder with pleasure as you feel his tongue run over your skin. “The place I’m staying at is just a few minutes away,” he finally speaks up, stepping away from you for the first time in what feels like forever. “Do you want to go there?” he asks.

The way he looks at you tells you he’s asking you more than to just go over to the place he’s staying at. You know it, he knows it. Even though it was your suggestion, he is still checking in with you, despite probably already knowing that you’d agree to pretty much anything. You laugh at his question.

“Jimin… I’m… I’m more than fine with going to your place, yeah,” you settled for that. Letting him know that you’d let him fuck you in the middle of the street, right here, right now, might be a bit too forward of you. Incredibly accurate but perhaps too forward.

The beaming smile you get from him when you agree serves like a confirmation to yourself that no, this is absolutely not a bad idea. This is everything you’ve hoped for but didn’t think would happen. This is the brief romance that novels are written about, a story you might remember when 30 years from now, your 20something-year-old daughter goes on her first trip to Paris and you remember him. Jimin will be your story, one that you might revisit often, depending on how the night ends.

Taking your hand in his, he leads the way and you follow blindly, enjoying his touch even during simple handholding. You want to do more, so much more, but if you do, you’ll never get to your end destination. Jimin must have sensed that, because the two of you are walking faster than you did this whole day – now you actually have a goal in mind. And what a goal that will be.

“Not to bring the mood down but we could have been going to your place a lot sooner if you’d kissed me back in the club,” you admit. Maybe that was a little bit unnecessary but you want to break the silence between you – and if you can compliment him in the process, why not?

“Hmm, maybe,” he sighs, suddenly letting go of your hand, only to hug you around the waist and pull you into his side, giving you a quick kiss on the lips. “You’re not the only one that was worried about misreading some signals. I wanted to be sure, so I consciously waited for you to do something.”

“Thank fuck I did because that was a close one,” you laugh in disbelief, amazed to know how close you were to this simply never happening.

“Not gonna lie, I was worried,” he laughs too, giving you another quick peck. You’re positive that you’re blushing again. Every time he kisses you, your stomach does somersaults, excited at the thought of him wanting to kiss you as much as you want to kiss him. Which is a lot. More than a lot. “I’m glad you mustered the courage to kiss a guy that’s quite obviously wanted to kiss you all afternoon.”

“For future notice – be more direct,” you warn him through laughter. The lucky girl who gets to experience him next deserves to be spared the inner turmoil you’ve went through. He spent the entire night dancing on the line between being very direct and not direct enough. One step in either direction would have settled your dilemma, so hopefully the next person will have more luck.

“I’m a bit preoccupied with you right now, thanks,” he chuckles as he sneaks his hand down to your ass and squeezes it shamelessly. You jump up in surprise but don’t feel particularly troubled about being in public, seeing as there is no public around you, at all. It’s just the two of you, walking along the river, the boats moored along the way seemingly empty. Feeling brave, braver than you ever remember feeling, you’re the one who initiates the kiss this time, making sure to show him how much you want this. You move slowly, enjoy the feeling of taking the lead and the lazy movements of your tongues, interrupted only when you feel the need to bite his bottom lip, which is way more often than you’d be willing to admit. Somehow, you once again end up being sandwiched between him and the half wall behind you. Seizing the opportunity, you sit on the half wall, pulling Jimin towards you by the belt – his hands find their way to your waist as he situates himself between your legs. This time around you’re sure it’s not his phone you’re feeling. It’s a very prominent bulge, noticeable enough to make you salivate at the very thought of what’s hidden. You’re not the only one acting braver – for the first time tonight, Jimin’s hands find their way under your shirt, eliciting goosebumps on your back almost immediately.

It’s when his fingers move to the front and graze your bra that you remember the two of you are still very much out in the open. And while at this point you wouldn’t particularly mind letting him have you here and now, the last thing you want to add to your Paris story is being arrested for indecent exposure.

“If you keep kissing me like this, we’ll never get to your place,” you warn him and contradict yourself immediately, attacking his neck with bites that make him sigh and shudder.

“Thank fuck we’re already here.”

You reluctantly detach yourself from his neck, looking around in confusion – you don’t see a house around you, at all. There’s nothing but the walkway and the park across the street. And as much as you like Jimin, you’re not going to fuck him on a bench which he sleeps on. He sees your confusion and nods towards the river. It takes you a bit too long to connect the dots.

“You’ve rented a houseboat?!” you ask in surprise and he gives you a quick kiss, pulling away with a smile.

“Of course,” he chuckles. “Hotels are boring. Boats are awesome.”

“Who even rents a boathouse?” you ask in wonder, all the while feeling slightly pissed at yourself because why the hell didn’t you think of that? It sure would beat your tiny airbnb, with a building that has no damn stairs – nothing but an elevator. Why would you be locked in such a claustrophobic space when you can have a damn boat? Lesson learned.

“I do,” he smirks at you. “And tonight, I’m going to fuck a very beautiful girl on that boat. So I guess it was a good call. Don’t you agree?”

“Yep. Wholeheartedly. You win.”

You know you’re going to die of embarrassment when he realizes just how wet he’s made you but you’re past the point of caring. With the words he says and the way he kisses you, you and your pussy never stood a chance.

Before you can kiss him again and prolong the wait, he takes your hand and leads the way, first down a set of concrete stairs and then towards the second houseboat in a row; it’s close to the ones on its side, but not too close for comfort. Climbing up the stairs that lead to the impromptu balcony on the boat, you immediately realize the appeal of choosing housing like this – once you can take your eyes away from Jimin’s ass, that is. No, once you are not looking at it, you can appreciate the view the boat has – you can even see the Eiffel tower, a bit down the river. The deck has a huge table, a few chairs and way more plants that a boat deck needs. It looks comfortable, beautiful and with how easily accessible it is, just a bit dangerous. All the words you can use to describe the man who is now kissing your neck, standing behind you as you reach and lean yourself on the boat rail, hoping it is safe.

“I see you’re an exhibitionist,” you laugh when he pulls you back so that your ass is right against his crotch and good god, you can feel how hard he is as he rolls his hips against you.

“No. Maybe just a little,” he chuckles. You laugh too, until you feel one of his hands leave your hips and reach for the button on your jeans. You gulp, eyes widening and as if he can sense your alert, he doesn’t unbutton them immediately. “You?” he asks. God, consent is so fucking sexy.

You’ve never dabbled in it, never really thought about it either but now, in this predicament? “Maybe just a little,” your voice is low as you give him permission. You weren’t joking when you thought that he can do anything he wants, were you? It doesn’t matter, because you said yes and holy fuck, his hand is going down your pants.

You jolt immediately and how could you not, when he went straight for your clit, right off the bat. Jimin does not play around, that much is obvious. You can only pray the fence is secure enough to keep you out of the water.

“Didn’t think you’d be this turned on by foreplay in public,” he laughs directly in your ear because the moment he ran his fingers against your slit, you threw your head back to lean onto him more, afraid of your legs actually turning into jelly because of him. “I’m proven wrong.”

“You don’t know me well enough to assume my sexual preferences,” somehow, you manage to laugh and remain sassy, thought that is cut short the moment he returns his attention to your clit, circling it very, very slowly. “But I suppose you found out some.”

“And I have the whole night to learn, don’t I, Y/N?”

“You do,” you bite your lip to hold back a moan because he started rubbing his fingers against you, the sudden change from slow to fast catching you off guard.

“You don’t have to keep quiet baby,” he presses a quick kiss against your neck, pushing you more into the rail as he rubs himself against your ass in a manner that almost has you begging for more. You are, internally, but not aloud. Not yet, at least. “I don’t think anyone could hear you down here. And I know I want to.”

“Duly noted,” you moan out because he presses his fingers into you harder – with the pressure and the speed, you know you’re going to fall apart way sooner than you’d though.

There has to be some flaw, right? He cannot be this perfect, no human being can be this perfect. If you were to stick around long enough, maybe you’d find a personality trait of his that makes him less perfect than what he is now, in your eyes, but you won’t be staying long enough to find out. For tonight, you’re more than fine with letting him be your little perfection.

“Let’s go inside?” he suggests as he drags his hand away from you and that is by far the worst thing he had done the whole night. You never want him to stop touching you, but that can be arranged at a more appropriate location. You nod, or so you think you do, unsure of your movements and thoughts, and you let him pull you by the hand and towards the door, pausing to fumble with the keys.

He opens the door and you stumble inside as he puts his bag on a hallway table – you choose to throw yours on the ground, waiting for him to turn on the lights. The moment you can see him clearly, the passion takes over you.

Driven by it, you all but slam him into the wall, almost laughing as his eyes widen in surprise. You don’t though – you don’t laugh, you don’t say anything. You simply reach for the hem of his shirt and lift it up slowly, making sure that your fingers cross every inch of skin you uncover. Seeing him shiver is worth the torture you’re putting yourself through, because a part of you wants to drop to the floor and start unbuckling his belt. You fight your own instincts, wanting and hoping to give him at least a fraction of the pleasure he had given you just moments ago.

Soft to the touch but very well defined, his body is a work of art that could rival those that you have spent the last few days observing. The tattoo you discover on his ribs serves as a perfect imperfection, a blemish on the canvas that somehow looks so right. Gulping, you let him take off his shirt and as soon as he does, you’re against him, kissing those lips of his again.

You don’t stay there long – slowly traveling under his chin, down his neck and all over his chest, staying there long enough, pressing soft kisses and licks until he is properly panting. When his hips roll, subconsciously looking for any kind of friction, you decide to move further down, slowly kissing a trail down his stomach, looking up at him, enjoying the sight of him so visibly… distraught. The moment your eyes meet, he closes his. And now you know you’re doing it right, if for the first time he is the one afraid of eye contact and how deadly it can be.

“You’re killing me,” he chuckles nervously, his voice breathless. And you simply smile, slowly unbuckling his belt and pushing the pants down to his knees as slow as you possibly can. You want to offer a remark about how he’s clearly enjoying it but his cock is one major distraction, in the best way possible.

He’s hard and ready, the sight filling you with instant pride because you know that you did that. You made him like this. A little bit pliant, a little bit breathless and very much not ready for what’s about to come. He’s hard, twitching under your gaze, making your mouth water. You still take it slow, enjoying the pace set to tease him – slowly licking the tip of his dick, smiling as you watch his Adam’s apple bob from above you – he still can’t look at you.

“I love how you’ve been staring me down the whole night and now you can’t handle looking at me,” you admit as you slowly drag your hand up and down his cock. Of course, now he opens his eyes and looks down on you but the lump he swallows shows you that even though he responed to your challenge, he is still very much affected and you’re living for it.

“I see you like to tease,” is what he says, making you smile.

“Very much,” you nod, giving him a quick lick that is followed by another muffled curse coming from him. “But I can be kind too,” you conclude, before finally taking him into your mouth properly.

It’s a bit of a challenge but you are more than happy to take it, slowly sinking your mouth up and down his dick, enjoying the symphony of noises that is coming from him. Every sigh, every curse, every moan – it all just makes you even more adamant to give him the best head of his life.

“Fuck Y/N,” he barely manages to say, moaning as you speed up your movements. He gathers your hair in a makeshift ponytail and slowly starts guiding you faster, eyeing your reaction, despite being momentarily distracted by the sight of you taking all of him into your mouth. “Fuck, you look so… You’re gonna make me come,” he lets out a slightly panicked laughter, gently pushing you away from him, to which you pout. Despite not being that big on blowjobs, giving one to Jimin felt somewhat like a privilege and you wouldn’t admit that lightly. Not wanting to stop completely, you squeeze him in your hand, slowly moving up and down, watching as he goes through another crisis. “Y/N,” he laughs in warning, making you stop, albeit reluctantly.

“Isn’t it the point to make you come?” you ask but still stand up when his hands grab yours by the elbows and he lifts you up to stand next to him.

“Absolutely,” his eyes don’t leave your lips and he gives you a quick kiss, biting into your bottom lip hard enough to earn a moan. “But not like that, not before I fuck you. Not before I have my way with you.”

The smile on his face looks sinister enough to make you even wetter than you were moments ago. He doesn’t sound like a man who makes promises lightly and you get your confirmation as he puts his hands on your hips and starts pushing you back towards the room behind you. You’re too fucked out to notice anything other than the fairly modern design of the furniture around you. Before you can notice anything in particular, your ass slams into a hard surface and you jump up, letting him settle between your legs again and kiss you even harder than he did all night.

You’re the target now, and good god, you’re loving it. His lips alter between being gentle and harsh, kissing you with so much passion before biting, as if he wants to show you that he’s the one in charge. And you let him. By god, you let him.

He takes your shirt and bra off quickly, not wanting to drag it out like you did, but the moment you’re half naked before his eyes, he slows down. If him staring you down made you feel nervous before, you are positively burning right now because he is eating you up. He doesn’t even have to touch you – just the sight of him, looking like he’s about to ruin you is enough to cause goosebumps to form all over your body. He comes closer, attaching his lips to your chest. You are losing your mind because he is purposely slow, kissing you all over before finally attaching his lips to your nipple, taking it into his mouth and slowly rolling his tongue against it. You swear you can feel him smiling, but you’re too far gone to check – especially not when his hand reaches for your other breast, squeezing it shamelessly. You’ve been able to control your noises for a little while, but the moment his teeth come out to play, you’re a goner. With his fingers and lips moving at the same time, you can only moan, reaching towards something, anything to hold and settling for his hair. You grip it, perhaps a bit too harshly if his moan is anything to go by – but he doesn’t stop you. In fact, he simply sucks harder, making you arch your back towards him.

He’ll ruin you. He will absolutely ruin you and you are perfectly fine with it.

After what feels like an eternity, he detaches his mouth away from you and your eyes meet. He truly is a sight for sore eyes, especially now when he looks so blissfully fucked out. His hair is a mess, his lips red from all the kissing and sucking, his torso a work of art. He looks so fucking hot, you moan. At the very sight of him, you moan. He’s not touching you, he’s not teasing you, he’s not doing anything but looking at you and that is enough to make you moan, moan and rut your hips in his direction, looking for friction which you find in the form of his thigh. He lets you, he lets you move against him. Your moment of pleasure doesn’t last long, because he steps back, fumbling to unbutton your jeans. You lay down, ignoring the cold of the table against your naked back, lifting your hips to help him undress you completely. Unlike the slow, sensual moves that you used on him, he is quick, taking them off as fast as he possibly can. When you’re left in nothing but your underwear, that is when he slows down again, crouching down out of your sight.

“Fuck!” you gasp in surprise when you feel him nuzzling his nose against your clothed center – you can feel how wet you are and you know, you know he can smell it, feel it, see it and you absolutely do not care. In fact, you’re even more turned on by the thought of it – he clearly is enjoying it and you want nothing more than to let him know how good he’s making you feel.

He doesn’t torture you for too long and other than a muffled curse, he doesn’t comment on how wet you are for him. Instead, he goes right down to business, using his fingers to move your underwear to the side and he immediately attaches himself to your clit, sucking on it harshly, with the same fervor as when he was sucking on your nipples.  

“Fuck, Jimin!” you moan out, gripping his hair with all the strength you have, knowing that that must have hurt – again, he shows no signs of having a problem with it. Fuck, he probably even likes it.

“What is it baby?” he asks, not waiting for your response and instead choosing to lick up your center. “Are you enjoying it?”

“Yes, fuck yes,” you manage to reply, momentarily distracted by the feel of his finger sinking into you.

“If you let me, I’ll eat you out for hours tomorrow morning,” he tells you, pausing to bite on your thigh, a bite that you know will leave teeth marks, but you don’t protest. “As much as I’d be willing to do it for hours right now, I really need you on my cock.”

“Yeah, okay,” you laugh, biting your lip at the feel of him sinking another finger into you, slowly dragging them in and out as he stands up, keeping his eyes on yours the whole time. You say nothing more – you couldn’t, even if you wanted to. You move your hips in time with his fingers, riding them like you would, and hopefully will, ride his dick in a matter of moments.

“Bedroom?” he suggests as he stops his assault on you. You nod, somehow managing to sit up, nearly laughing at the sight of him. Half naked, with his jeans still hanging right above his knees, his member standing up proudly. How he could wobble you towards the table in that state is beyond you. You don’t have a chance to ask, too distracted with the sight of him licking his fingers, all while looking directly into your eyes. He’ll be the death of you, that’s for sure.

You stand up, leaning against the table as he loses the last articles of his clothing – you barely have the time to take a few deep breaths before he starts kissing you again, his tongue overpowering yours as you moan at the taste of him. You don’t bother opening your eyes, letting him lead you towards the bedroom, trusting him that you won’t end up overboard, hoping that if you do, you wouldn’t be too turned on to notice. You hit a wall and a door on your way there, giggling by the time he is pushing you onto a bed, finally letting you breathe. Standing above you, he somehow manages to look both menacing and hot at the same time. His eyes tell you to wait, which you gladly do, watching him as you settle yourself on top of the covers. You choke on your own breath when you notice his ass, for the first time without the barrier of skintight jeans – it’s a sight, alright. You watch as he fumbles through his suitcase, smiling at him when he turns around, waving a condom at you.

No matter how much you’re into him, there’s no way he’s fucking you without protection. You’re glad he’s on the same page, not even stopping to suggest going bare. While you’d like that and you’re guessing so would he, it’s simply not happening. He walks towards you, not putting the condom on immediately, instead choosing to give his member a few strokes, enjoying the view of you on his bed, naked and waiting. Though your lip bite was an unconscious reaction at the sight before you, he is affected, grunting at the sight – the moment the condom is covering his dick, he is rushing to get on top of you, finally letting you feel his whole body against your own.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he tells you before kissing you passionately, flicking his tongue slowly as he settles between your legs. He doesn’t enter you immediately, instead choosing to grind onto you, making the both of you moan into the kiss. You’re the one who pulls away, if only for a moment.

“Please,” you moan out, enjoying the feel of his dick rubbing against you, pushing you closer to the edge – too close, considering you didn’t even have a chance to feel him inside of you. “Please just fuck me.”

“Gladly,” he gives you a quick kiss before finally sliding into you. Slowly and with ease, he fills you up in a way that makes you moan – louder than you did the whole night, feeling absolutely shameless. You don’t care, you don’t care where you are or who can hear you, if anyone – he feels that damn good.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” you gasp, taken by surprise with him slowly rolling his hips into you. It’s as if he can tell you need no more time to adjust to him, he starts moving a bit faster with each roll of his hips, making you curse out as you grab onto him, your fingers digging into his skin. It seems he enjoys you being rough with him, showing him how good he’s making you feel because he isn’t complaining and you know it has to hurt. He wastes no time, dipping down to take your nipple into his mouth, never stopping his dick from moving in and out of you in the best of ways.

“God,you’re so tight baby!” he grunts as his thrusts become harder and faster, so much so that you faintly notice the sound of the bed thumping into something, most likely the wall. You don’t care, you really don’t – you pull him closer to you, blindly reaching for his lips, enjoying the way he overpowers your senses, even smell - he smells like sex and expensive cologne, the most mouthwatering scent you’ve ever had the pleasure of smelling. The moment your lips touch, you feel his hand graze your clit, eliciting a particularly loud moan for you. Unable to focus on anything, you give into pleasure and let him do whatever he wants with you, the onslaught on your senses killing the little sanity you had left.

You dare and think it can’t get any better than this and right as you do, he delivers a particularly hard thrust, pinching your clit between his fingers at the same time. You weren’t ready – you weren’t ready for it at all and with his actions catching you by surprise, you lose the little control you’ve had, coming hard. The orgasm washes over you stronger than any orgasm in your recent memory, making you gasp and moan, holding onto him with all the strength your body has left. He is losing his cool too – his hands give in and he’s pressed up against you completely, lips grazing your ear. “Just like that, come all over my cock,” he urges you through your high, his words making it even harder for you to calm down.

Body shivering, you somehow calm down your breathing – it’s a challenge, seeing as he still hasn’t stopped moving completely. He slowed down enough not to send you in complete overdrive too soon. Even his consideration is a turn on – almost as strong of a turn on as him using your body to pleasure himself, still rolling his hips into you and moaning softly, directly into your ear, the moan turning more high pitched when he feels your nails running up and down his back.

Turning your head towards him, you search for his lips. He kisses you eagerly, stilling himself inside of you for a moment, as if he wants to focus on the kiss and kiss alone. Slowly, he moves away from you and leans back, running his hand up your thigh. He raises his eyebrows as he pushes your leg up, asking you for permission. You nod, moaning as he moves your leg towards the side. Quickly, you turn to your side completely and judging by the moan he lets out, that’s exactly what he needed you to do.

You want to do more, you do. You want to ride him till you can no longer move but he is so damn overwhelming, all you can do right now is just… take it. And you’re not complaining. Slowly but surely, the pleasure builds up again and you realize there’s a strong chance you’ll come again. Suddenly brave again, you look at him, directly at him, as you put a hand between your legs and start rubbing yourself. The moment he realizes what you’re doing, he looks down, lifting your leg up so that he can have a better view. “Fuck,” is all he says, followed by the sexiest groan you have ever heard a man make.

“I’m so close,” you warn him, wanting to feel all of it again but somehow not wanting it to end.

“Come on baby, come for me again,” he urges you on. As much as you want to, you really don’t want it to be over anytime soon - the buildup was so damn hot and you simply don’t want to stop. Thinking about his earlier promise about eating you out for hours is what pushes you over the edge. Feeling Jimin and think of the dirty words he whispered in your ear is enough for you to come again, your entire body shivering with pure pleasure. Looking up at him, you notice the way his face scrunches, the way his voice is deeper and his moans never stopping… he takes over you again.

“I’m going to come,” he warns you, making you remember that he can’t come inside of you and fill you up, which is something you would really, really like. You settle for the next best thing.

“Come on me,” you tell him, moving your leg out of his still firm grip, and spreading your legs as much as possible, now having a perfect view of him slamming into you, much faster than he did before. “Come anywhere you want,” you urge him, biting your lip as his hips lose rhythm at your suggestion. In the speed of light, he slips out of you, leaving you empty and wanting more, more of him, more of his dick, more of anything he’d be willing to give you. You watch as he takes the condom off in the speed of light, still rubbing yourself and ignoring the overstimulation you are feeling, absolutely urged by the hottest sight you have seen in your entire life: Jimin, stroking himself with a firm grip, moaning loudly as he closes his eyes, his face scrunched in pleasure.

You watch in awe as he finishes all over you, the streaks of his cum reaching all the way up to your breasts. You have never, never in your entire life, experienced anything hotter than this. You know now, there is nothing hotter than watching Jimin orgasm. And you have never in your miserable life had sex nearly as good as the one you had now.

Jimin’s body gives up and he falls directly on top of you, making you chuckle. Your hands roam his back, as if you are comforting him through the aftermath, completely ignoring the fact that his now softening member is still rubbing against you. Both of you are sweaty, your bodies covered in his cum but you don’t care and neither does he. Once he is finally able to move, he simply leans a bit to the side, just so that he can look at you. And he does. With the brightest, sweetest smile that shouldn’t belong to a man who fucked you as hard as he just did.

“Hi,” you speak up first, shocked at how rough your voice sounds. Perhaps you were a bit louder than you thought you were. He smiles and you feel yourself melting again, accepting that you are whipped for him, way more whipped than you should be for someone you barely know. He doesn’t make it any easier on you when he leans in for a kiss, his lips slow and lazy and yours following suit, ignoring the butterflies that are going berserk in your stomach again. You ignore it all, shutting your brain off and enjoying the post sex glow that he is radiating with.

He pulls away but not before caressing your face and pushing hair behind your ear – a very sweet action for someone whose mouth can do all those dirty, lovely things.

“That was… wow,” he admits and for the first time since you’ve met him, you think you see a blush on his face – a blush that isn’t caused by alcohol, that is. Is he suddenly shy? Is it the post sex blush? You don’t know and you don’t care, as long as you can keep looking at him.

“Wow seems appropriate,” you agree, joining in his laughter. He is still chuckling as he nuzzles into your neck, giving you a few quick pecks before pulling away.

“Do you want to stay the night?” he raises his eyebrows, giving you a way out if you don’t want to take him up on his earlier offer. “I could call you a cab or even walk you back to your place. I’d like you to stay the night though.”

“Good, because I don’t think I can use my legs at the moment.”

It wasn’t supposed to be such a funny remark but for some reason, he laughs hard and after fighting it for a few seconds, you can’t help but join in. If you look past his hotness and the ease with which he communicates with people, he really does have a comfortable aura around him – if he laughs, it’s contagious and you don’t mind joining in.

The two of you calm down and after a few moments of silence, he runs his hand through your hair again, pushing it away from your face as his eyes focus on different parts of it – first your eyes, then your lips, then your cheeks. It looks as if he is trying to memorize you and to that you can relate because this is one night you’d never want to forget, not one part of it. And not one part of him. “Let’s go and get cleaned up?” he suggests.

You’ve lost count of how many times you have let him take you by the hand and lead the way for the both of you. You are yet to regret those decisions, gladly letting him lead the way now, knowing that wherever he takes you… it’s going to be good.

You wake up feeling content, well rested and sore, all at once. With a dumb smile on your face, you giggle and bury your face in the pillow – it smells of him, making your memories of the night before even more vivid.

His promise of devoting hours to you and your body this morning did not wait until dawn. It all occurred the night before, with you still kissing one another by the time sun had started to rise and the birds had started chirping.

It all comes back to you in flashes, the bath you took together, the way he caressed your skin as he was washing you up, before his hands went a bit further south. Both the sweet words and the dirty talk are engraved in your mind forever, just like the way he made you feel all of last night.

You knew it before, you’re sure of it now – he has ruined you. He has absolutely ruined you, in the best way possible. And you don’t want it to end.

You knew it had an expiration date. This is a trip romance – short, sweet, steamy and memorable. It had an expiration date the moment the two of you shared the first smiles in front of ‘Shakespeare and company’. While the thought of it does leave a bitter taste in your mouth, you’re a big girl and you can live with it. Smiling, you decide to enjoy the morning, or early afternoon, with Jimin. You’ll deal with the negative side effects later.

“Afternoon, beautiful,” you hear him, turning around towards the direction his voice is coming from – he is leaning against the doorway, smiling at you, looking too hot for his own good with gray sweatpants, a white shirt and a part of his dark hair pulled back in a makeshift bun. “Did you sleep well?”

“Surprisingly, yes,” he smiles as you close your eyes and shamelessly yawn, remembering a second too late that you should put a hand over your mouth. You open your eyes just in time to see him sitting down on the edge of the bed, placing his hand on your naked thigh and slowly moving it up and down your skin. It’s not as sexual as his touches were last night – in fact, this feels more comforting than anything else. “How long was I out? Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah, I slept like a log. And it’s 2PM now, so you’ve had a few hours.”

“2PM?” you’re shocked to realized you’ve already lost half the day. It was very much worth it, though.

“You have somewhere to be?” he teases you, probably unaware how he makes the butterflies in your stomach go nuts. You have a sneaky suspicion that he’s not aware of your dilemma – do you go, do you stay? Does he want you to go or does he want you to stay? What are you even supposed to say now?

“No, not really,” you shrug, cowardly throwing the ball into his court. You’ll admit it, you’re a whimp and you are more than happy to let him decide if you should be on your way or stick around a bit longer.

“Well, I’ve made us some quick lunch. I wanted to order something but wasn’t sure if you’d want to stick around for food… so I figured I’ll make something and eat both portions if you bolt,” he admits through laughter and you’re immediately relieved – you weren’t the only one uncertain about everything.

“I don’t have to bolt. And I’m also kind of starving,” you admit, shuddering when you remember that the last thing you ate was a croissant almost a full day ago – you’re absolutely starving.

“We can eat on the deck if you want?” he suggest, before breaking out into a sudden smile.

“What?” you ask, confused with how he’s looking at you. You either have something on your face or he’s going to make this whole thing 20 times more difficult and you’re afraid the second situation is more likely.

“Nothing. You’re just beautiful like that,” he shrugs as you let him run his hands through your hair.

“Half-dead and messy looking? I’m sure I am,” you roll your eyes.

“Not messy. Sexy,” he corrects you, the same way he did last night. With a sigh, he pulls away and stands up. “I’m starving too, so you’d better hurry up if you don’t want me eating you up instead.”

“I don’t think I’d mind that, to be honest,” you admit, hiding your face in his pillow, knowing that you no longer have the dark to hide the blush that appears whenever you say something a bit more straightforward.

You expected him to say something or maybe laugh – you absolutely didn’t expect to feel his teeth on your right ass cheek. You jump up in surprise, nearly hitting him in the head when your leg jerks, but that only makes him laugh. You’re smiling way too wide for someone who’s just been bitten on the ass and you decide to scream into the pillow once he’s away enough not to hear it.

“Your clothes and underwear are dry and clean but feel free to steal that shirt from me,” he winks at you. “I’ll wait on the deck.”

With that, he leaves you alone to get dressed, try to gather your thoughts and maybe, just maybe, control your emotions a little bit. It would have been a lot easier if he was the ‘wham, bam, thank you ma’am’ kind of guy but surprise, he’s not! No, he fucked you like a full-fledged sex god, giving you the best night of your life, while caring enough to throw your clothes into the washer and drier and even wanting to feed you the next day. Nope, still no flaws in sight for Park Jimin.

You wash up quickly, slapping yourself a few times for good measure, hoping to calm yourself down enough to be able to turn around and leave very soon. You still don’t know if it had worked but your bag is packed and you join him on the deck, dressed in your jeans and the shirt he wore yesterday that he generously let you sleep in and steal for good.

He doesn’t notice you immediately, leaned back in the chair with his eyes closed. The sight of him sitting like that, with his dark hair pulled back and tied, his neck in full view and all but glowing in the sunlight makes you want to cry. The man is actually so goddamn pretty it almost brings tears to your eyes. It doesn’t help when he notices you and smiles at you, pointing at the two bowls set on the table.

“I know it’s just noodles but honestly, I’m too pretty to know how to cook,” he explains as you take a seat. You burst out laughing at his comment.

“Cocky yet very true,” you nod in appreciation. “Don’t worry, I love ramen.”

“It’s lame but I at least I’ve added poached eggs,” he tells you, looking oh so proud about adding an extra ingredient.

“Nothing beats instant ramen,” you reassure him. “It smells of youth, not having enough money and artificial flavoring. I’ve never felt more at home,” this time around, it’s he who laughs, wishing you a good meal as the both of you dig into the food. You weren’t lying when you said it’s more than okay – you just need some food in the belly and it’s not like you’ve expected him to greet you with a full course meal. It’s the thought that counts and it’s more than enough. Actually, it might even be too much.

Halfway through your lunch, the silence between you turns slightly uncomfortable. It isn’t anything that either one of you did – it’s just the entire situation. The clock is ticking, the both of you know it and neither one of you is quite sure how to act about it. You can’t stay here for another day, even if you wanted to – your stuff and a huge chunk of your money is back at your airbnb. Even with that little detail aside, you’re not even sure if you want to say – not to mention, if he wants you to stay or not.

But it feels… wrong. It feels wrong to leave just like that, pretending like he hadn’t given you an amazing night. Not only was the sex mind-blowingly good… even before that, he was a perfect travel partner yesterday. He’s good company and knowing you’ll be saying goodbye to all of that… it doesn’t sit well with you.

Despite avoiding eye contact for a few minutes now, you fail and the moment your eyes meet from across the table, you know you’ve reached that page of the little novella the two of you wrote. He knows it too, setting away his chopsticks, sighing as he leans back into the chair. You say nothing, watching him as he stares you down, slowly shaking his head.

“I don’t want this to end,” he admits. You stay silent, following his suit as you put away your own chopsticks and lean back into the chair, completely shutting down the rest of the world – you no longer hear the birds or passing boats. You don’t see the tourists walking along the river, you don’t even feel the subtle waves that gently sway the boat you’re on – you can only focus on him, on his face, on the way he looks bothered by this. “It feels wrong to end this but at the same time, doesn’t it feel like the only proper way to go about it? Am I making any sense?” he asks, letting out a nervous chuckle.

“Yeah,” you nod immediately, assuring him that you do understand it. “It feels good, it feels right, like it would be a shame to walk away from but… what else can be done?”

“Exactly,” he agrees, leaning towards you. “It feels equally right and wrong. What are we going to do?”

You can go back to get your stuff and spend the rest of the trip here with him. You can exchange numbers and meet up back home. It could lead to something beautiful, a continuation of a marvelous chapter one, just as easily as it can lead to a complete disaster. Life’s unpredictable and you don’t know if it’s worth it to possibly ruin this amazing… encounter.

How can you even find an answer to that? Not like this whole thing hasn’t been…

“You believe in destiny, don’t you?” you ask him, suddenly putting two and two together, smiling at the confused nod he gives you. “We met here so many times. Different days, different times, we somehow ended up together. Who’s to say that won’t happen again?” you ask.

“What are you suggesting here? To… see if we meet again?”

“Exactly,” you nod, feeling proud of the solution you’ve come up with. “You believe in destiny and I don’t. If we meet again, I’d be willing to question that belief. We go our separate ways. If it ends up being a onetime encounter, we’ll remember it with smiles on our faces. And if we meet…”

“I don’t let you walk away again,” he smirks at you. You don’t say anything as that smirk turns into a genuine, real smile. He means it, he actually means it. And if you meet him again… you will too. “What happens if we run into each other back home?” he asks.

You remember how you talked last night, realizing that the two of you were hanging around the same places before, perhaps even at the same time. It made you wonder how many times you have passed one another, without a second glance, thinking of other things, of other people. Running into him back home seems more likely than seeing him again here in Paris.

“Then we say hello and see where that takes us,” you answer adamantly.

“Deal.”

“Deal.”

He offers you his hand from across the table and you shake it firmly, suddenly a lot more hopeful than you were moments ago. No, you don’t believe in destiny but if there’s someone that could make you question that, it’s Park Jimin himself.

“Fucking hell,” you curse under your breath as you wrestle your way through the crowd – for the first time since you’ve arrived in Paris, you were stuck in the metro during rush hour and you have never felt so many backpacks smacking your face in such a short amount of time.

Trying to get Google Maps on, you make your way up the stairs and into fresh air, taking a deep breath when you do. If your phone is correct and based on your previous experiences, it’s probably not, you’re a five minute walk away from the Luxembourg Gardens.  A perfect way to end your last full day in Paris – outside and hopefully away from any kind of crowd.

You walk in the direction your navigation deems right, checking every few seconds if it had started spinning out of control like it did yesterday – there is nothing more stressful than your GPS telling you to turn right and once you do, immediately telling you to take a sharp left.

It’s the smell that makes you take a detour – it’s always the smell. Sure, you could continue to sheepishly follow your navigation but when the smell of freshly baked pastry smacks you in the face, you know where you’re heading. The bakery is fairly empty and you test your poor French as you order a plain croissant.

Damn him and his plain croissants. Something that should be so simple and so irrelevant now irks you, almost to the point of you changing your order to a chocolate one. You don’t, already knowing that you’re nowhere near proficient enough in French to explain your change of heart.

The lady behind the counter is a bit of a bitch, not waiting for you to put your wallet away before she hands you your meal, giving you a dirty look when it takes you a second too long to take it from her. Offering her a sour, kiss-my-ass smile, you take the pastry and head towards the door, now trying to juggle your food, phone, wallet and the door handle, all at once.

You’ve just managed to close the door behind you and turn around, nearly avoiding a collision.

“Jesus Christ!” you gasp, gripping your phone and the pastry harder, stopping them from flying out of your hand.

“Shit, I’m so sorry!”

Your heart stops at the sound of his voice. You slowly look up, scared of both confirming and denying your suspicions, unsure which one would hurt more – him being here or him being a product of your imagination. You know that voice and you know it well.

It’s him, looking panicked and checking if you have a hold on your things. “I’m sorry, I…” he goes mute once his eyes meet yours and he realizes it’s you.

Jimin stares at you, not saying anything. One second before the encounter turns uncomfortable, you watch in amazement as he grins at you, a grin so wide and genuine your heart skips a beat.

“I… I could have dropped my croissant.”

He huffs a small laugh at your horribly timed Vine reference, pursing his lips as he tries to hide his smile – why, you don’t know and don’t care to find out because he can’t do it. He can’t hide his smile and it’s evident that he’s happy to see you. So are you, thanking and cursing at destiny at the same time.

Taking your empty hand in his, he says nothing as he intertwines your fingers and starts walking, slowly leading you away with him. You follow him, desperately thinking of what to say, of what to do but somehow too panicked to actually do anything. It feels like one of you should do something and apparently, he thinks the same because he suddenly stops and turns your way.

He puts his hands on your face, pulling you in for a kiss. The moment your lips are pressed against his, you remember how much you’ve wanted to do this since the last time you’ve kissed him, before walking down the steps of his boathouse. The relief that fills you as he deepens the kiss makes you a reluctant but firm believer in destiny.

No words are needed, you know that now. So when he leans away and smiles at you, you smile back, reaching for his hand again. He leads the way and again you follow, knowing you’re definitely not going to regret it this time either. THE END

[spaceskam]

The Road You Didn’t Take (4/7)

day 4 of @michaelguerinweek : “We are family.” / Lost decade

ao3

1 | 2 | 3 |

9 years ago

Michael wouldn’t say he was an expert at telling who was walking by the sound alone, but he was very good at it.

It was a mix between the rhythm, the speed, the force, and the shoe. He’d known Isobel long enough that he could tell what shoes she was wearing. Still, his eyes drifted away from his book as he heard the sound of boots stalking down the hall. Now cowboy boots, though, those sounded more similar to high heels. These were with a purpose. It could only be Alex Manes.

Michael chewed on his pen as the door of the library swung open. He swallowed hard and things seemed to move in slow motion as Alex sauntered inside, his chin held high and his face stoic. Michael thought he was the prettiest thing to ever exist.

Alex walked right past him, heading for the nonfiction section and not even noticing he was there. Michael didn’t mind. His eyes looked over Alex from behind and took a deep breath. Yeah, he didn’t mind.

-

8 years ago

He got a scholarship. It was nice and shiny and his. He was going to do something. He was going to be someone.

“Michael! You need to have some fun. Seriously, if you don’t, you’re going to burn out before you even get your Bachelor’s,” Isobel lectured. It wasn’t the first time. She was supportive as ever, but, as the end of their senior year approached, she made it very clear that she thought he was repressing himself from fun.

“Studying is fun,” he insisted. She sighed heavily.

“Michael, that’s the saddest shit I’ve ever heard, please say you’re kidding.” He shook his head and tried to give his attention to his notes. 

Isobel grabbed his head, though, and made him look up. The sun was shining and the sky was pretty, fluffy clouds gliding across light blue. She scraped her fingernails over his scalp and settled behind him, holding him in place.

“You are so smart. You could have anything in the world,” she told him, “That includes a break.”

“I don’t know what I would do for a break.”

“Walk around the mall, go for coffee, ask someone to see a movie, anything. As long as you doing something that isn’t studying without guilt,” she insisted.

Michael looked up at the sky and thought about it. The mall sounded boring and he got coffee everyday. However, asking someone to see a movie was new. The first person that came to mind was Alex Manes. He was probably too cool to watch movies. 

“This feels like a break,” he said out loud instead. She laughed softly and sighed.

“Okay, fine.”

-

7 years ago

Michael was crumbling.

“Michael,” Isobel said, her face stoic, “Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop breaking your back,” Isobel scoffed. She basically ripped the apron off of him. 

“Isobel, I have work!”

“I know you do, but when’s the last time you slept more than three hours?” Isobel demanded. He didn’t have an answer. “You’re going to kill yourself like this!”

“I have to work to pay for gas and school and car insurance and food and--”

“You need to take a break!”

“I can’t!”

“Yes, you can!” Isobel yelled, “I will literally pay you to take a break!”

“You’re not paying me anything, now move so I can get to work.”

“I’ll move if you agree to take a break.”

“Fuck you, Isobel,” he scoffed, pushing past her and stealing his apron back.

He apologized later that night and still missed his next payment.

-

6 years ago

His scholarship was gone as quick as it had come.

“I’m so fucked,” he whispered, feeling more hollow than he’d ever been.

After years of working his ass of, he’d gotten nothing to show for it. He’d wasted his teenage years. He was stuck. He didn’t know how to even fucking socialize at this point. He was just a mess.

“I have to get a job,” he whispered, “Like, a real job. How do you get a real job?”

“It’ll be fine,” Isobel promised. Michael shook his head.

“I can’t live off of minimum wage. We’re going through a fucking recession, Iz, how am I supposed to get a job that pays enough for that?” he rambled. Her hand reached out and she squeezed his knee.

“I’ll help you.”

“I don’t even have a real place to live. I don’t have parents to rely on. I-I don’t have a family, I don’t have anyone,” he whispered, letting out a shaky breath.

“Michael,” Isobel said, moving to crouch in front of him. He blinked a few times and tried to focus on her. It was hard. “Stop it. We are family. Me and you and Max. You’ve got us, we’re not going anywhere.”

“I can’t rely on you,” Michael whispered, sniffling. 

“Says who? I say you can rely on me. I rely on you all the time,” Isobel insisted, smiling so small and comforting that he just wanted to curl in on himself. Isobel moved closer to put her hand on his cheek. “We’ve got each other, okay?”

“But I--”

“You’re my brother, Michael, and I won’t let you fall. I’ll always be there to catch you,” she promised. He nodded and tried not to feel guilty about that. “Have I told you today how much I love you?”

“Not yet,” he croaked out. She laughed and pulled him into a tight hug.

“I love you.”

-

present day

Michael opened his eyes groggily and immediately searched for his phone.

A yawn struck him as he found it and he unlocked it, rubbing his eye as he sent Isobel a ‘good morning, I’m alive’ text. That typically sent those when they found themselves not coming home some nights. It felt like second nature to do it this morning.

“Thank you,” another voice said. Michael had to quickly catch his brain up that he had stayed in a motel room with Alex Manes and he quickly ruffled his hair to make himself look presentable as Alex closed the door with a bag of food. “Morning, sleepyhead, I ordered breakfast.”

“What time is it?” Michael asked, clearing his throat. Alex raised an eyebrow and gestured down to the phone in his hand. Michael followed it and saw that it was after nine. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, how’d you sleep?” Michael asked. Alex shrugged.

“Fine,” he said, “I struggle sleeping in new places no matter how tired I am.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” Alex laughed, pulling out the styrofoam boxes from the bag, “I hope you like bacon, eggs, grits, and whole wheat toast.”

“I do,” Michael said, gratefully taking the box and the plastic fork Alex was holding out for him, “Thank you.”

“No problem.” 

Alex sat down on his bed and they started eating. Isobel responded back with a return ‘good morning, I’m alive’ text and a selfie of her business casual outfit for the day. He smiled at it easily and said she looked nice.

“So, I was thinking about what we were talking about last night,” Alex said. Michael looked up at him.

“Which part?”

“The part where we could be friends and hang out when we get to Mississipi,” Alex said, “I think it’s a good idea. People need people, you know? It’s better than being completely alone, you know?”

“Yeah,” Michael said, smiling softly as shoveled his grits in his mouth, “I do.”

[flokive]

weather boy - cth

description: fratboy!cal au with a LOT of vine references // part two of a 4 part series: a year in the life of calum and his roommate. part one is right here writers note: don’t really have a lot to say actually, i just really really really hope you all like it!! xx wordcount: 1965

warnings: none really, just a lot of pining over each other and some drinking?

//

winter

++

It's nearly 12 am when Calum finally walked into the living room, wearing only his pajama trousers, with a big grin on his face. You took a quick glance at his torso as he stretched with a soft yawn and plumped next to you on the couch. Your cheeks turning a soft pink when you feel the warmth radiating off of his body. His familiar scent greeting your nostrils, making you want to nuzzle your face in his neck and never leave. It took you some willpower to not go right ahead and press your lips on his, letting your fingers run through his hair. Your thoughts get interrupted by Calum’s sleepy voice.

"God, Gilmore. Is there ANYthing better than pussy?” You let out a big sigh, put down your book, and looked your brown-haired friend in his eyes. "A really good book." You tried to keep a stern and serious face but the moment Calum recognized the words, his face lit up and he started to laugh, causing you to fail in keeping your stern look. “God, woman. Do you ever, not, speak in vine references?” You shook your head and laughed, quickly patted Calum’s leg, and continued reading your book as Calum turned on the tv. Both of you enjoying each others company and your Saturday morning.

++

When you walked in your living room after a long day of studying and hoping for some peace and quiet, you stumbled upon your roommate and some random girl making out on your couch. The very couch you wanted to claim for the rest of the night to watch Gilmore Girls and eat pizza. You growled and dropped your heavy book bag, startling the two lovebirds. 

“Fuck.. this shit. I’m out.” You huffed angrily and stormed out of the apartment, tears started to form in your eyes.

“Hey! Babe, wait up!” Calum yelled as he ran after you, getting a hold of your wrist, making you stop in your tracks. “I’m sorry,” he breathed, “I didn’t know you would be home so soon.” He apologized softly, tugging your arm to try and get you to turn around. You blinked furiously, trying to get your eyes back to normal before facing your roommate. Apparently, you didn’t quite succeed because when Calum got a good look at your face, his eyebrows knotted and a sad expression showed in his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” He whispered softly, cupping your face, his eyes tried to meet yours. “Nothing.” You said flatly, trying to avoid looking into his eyes. “Look at me,” Calum demanded, holding your face a little bit tighter, and you had no choice but to finally meet his gaze. Tears formed in your eyes when you thought back at the moment you saw him sitting there, with another strange girl. 

“Hey…” his voice was soft in your eyes, making you tear up even more. “Talk to me, petal.” You shook your head, clearly not wanting to talk about what made you tear up. “Just,” you spoke softly, barely audible. “Just leave me alone, Calum.” You tried to pry loose from his grab, he let you. “Just, you have a guest to entertain. I’ll be fine.” Calum opened his mouth to say something in return but you just shook your head, turned on the back of your heels, and walked away from your roommate. Leaving him speechless and confused. He couldn’t really figure out what he had done to make you feel sad. 

As badly as he wanted to follow you, pull you close and comfort you, he knew you didn’t. So he left, walked back to the apartment, only to find the blonde girl he didn’t know the name of waiting for him, wearing a very short dress, leaving nothing to the imagination. Trying to get the image of you crying out of his head, the took off his shirt and guided the blonde to his bedroom. When the girl finally left the apartment, he was regretting the decision to take the girl back to your apartment in the first place. She had only been a distraction, to get his feelings out of the way, knowing they’d probably stay unrequited. Something that had obviously failed when he saw your face again the morning after.

As a few days go by, the two of you haven’t really spoken a word about what happened. You kinda went back to how things were, just having fun as friends and nothing more, really. All though, you noticed, there clearly were less girls staying over in the apartment than before.

++

*Please, help, this girl just won’t LEAVE!* 

Calum texted you, your grunt muffled by your cushion. You have been lying awake all night, partly because of the noise Calum made when he came home drunk, again, with some random girl, again. Partly because you’ve been crying in your bed all night, thinking about Calum. About the other girl now laying in his bed, probably nuzzled against his broad chest, sulking up his fragrance, feeling his soft touch all over her body. Obviously, the feelings you had for your roommate never really faded away since the last time you saw Calum together with a girl.

Your phone buzzed again, an awkward, pouty faced selfie lit up your screen, a text reading ‘pretty please’ arriving soon after. You huffed in annoyance as you stand up, bitter thoughts that he only needed you when you needed to scare away some chick, swirled around in your brain. With your sweatpants in your hands, you looked in the mirror, hanging on your bedroom door. Looking at your reflection, you saw yourself standing there, your legs bare and your ass barely covered up by one of Calums t-shirts you snatched out of the fresh laundry a few weeks ago. 

A devilish smile appeared on your face, thinking about how Calum’s face would change if you were to walk into his room, barely covered, wearing his favorite shirt. You threw your sweats back on your bed and decided to change your casual underwear to some lacey panties. “Go big or go home, Gilmore.” you whispered to your self as you took one last glance in the mirror.

"I didn’t get no sleep ‘cause of y’all! You’re never getting sleep ‘cause of me!” You yelled, barging into the Calum room, beating on some pans, startling your roommate, and the girl laying next to him. “The fuck…” Calum starts but quickly trailed off when he sees you wearing his old Led Zeppelin tee. His eyes traveled up and down your body, lingering, maybe too long, on your exposed ass when you raised your arms to bang on the pans. He never really noticed your bare legs, the way your body looked, hidden away under his t-shirt. His… t-shirt. He slowly licked his lips at the thought of you wearing more, and less, of what’s actually his.

“What the fuck?!” A shriek next to him made Calum peel his eyes away from your ass, looking at the girl next to him. “Aren’t you going to do something about this?!” The blonde girl screamed, frantically pointing at your crazy roommate. He shrugged, the girl exclaimed some profanity’s and quickly got up, gathered her stuff and ran out of the apartment. 

“Good one..” Calum breathed shakily, still checking you out. You gave him a weak smile, dropped the pans on his bed, and walked out of his room, giving a little bit more sway in the way you walked than you did before. 

“Damn Gilmore,” Calum whispered as you closed the door to your own bedroom, “damn, you look good in my shirt.”

++

It’s the first time you came along to a frat party together with Calum. When you entered the big, white fraternity house, you immediately spotted the heads of Calums friends and eventually also Calum’s brown curls. You greeted them with a shy smile, gave Calum a tight hug, and looked around you, watching the boys and girls dancing on tables and playing games like beer pong. 

“Just, grow a fucking pair dude and talk to her.” You heard Calum tell someone. You shifted your attention back to your roommate’s friends and saw that he was talking to Kyle. “What the fuck is up Kyle..” Calum stated jokingly, making you smile. Kyle said something you couldn’t quite understand, but joined Calum anyway. 

“No what did you say, what the fuck dude.” Calum started laughing and joined you in yelling the last line. “Step the fuck up KYLE!!” The boy shook his head at the sight of the two on you and mumbled something like, “you really are perfect for each other,” as he stumbled away, getting another drink before stepping up to the girl they were talking about.

“Well,” you laughed and took a sip of the drink Calum just made you, “the pep talk worked. Look!” You pointed at the couple, now kissing against the stairwell. “Of course it worked, doll.” Calum slurred, he took another gulp of his beer as he casually slung his arm around your shoulder and pulled you close. The heath crept up your neck and cheeks as Calum casually brushed his lips against your ears, slowly swaying his hips against yours on the rhythm of the music. 

Roses pumped out of the many speakers surrounding the two of you, empty bottles of beers were scattered around the room, people danced on tabletops and you never wanted to leave the arms of your roommate. A new red cup got pushed in your hands by Calum, him still holding you close as the song transitioned to Filthy by Justin Timberlake. Calums laugh ringed in your ears as he recognized the tune and quickly turned you around so the two of you were dancing face to face. 

He quickly downed his beer, you’ve lost count how many had been drinking. He began dancing in robot-like movements, quickly changing to sexier dance moves as the song progressed. “All my haters gon' say it's fake. I guess I got my swagger back.” A devilish grin appeared on his face. “I said, put your filthy hands all over me.” His index finger beckoned you to come closer. “Baby, don't you mind if I do. Exactly what you like times two. Got me singin', ooh, ooh’.” His lips found your earlobes again, the words he sang gave you goosebumps everywhere on your body.

As the music swelled, the alcohol took more control of your body and you found yourself grinding with Calum. His hands lay on your exposed hips and his face was buried in your hair, your mind wandered to the things that could happen if the two of you were to continue dancing like this. Your left hand met his neck, your fingers intertwined with his hair, your right hand swayed with you to the music. The two of you danced like you didn’t have a care in the world, the two of you completely living in the moment.

The filthy song changed into Kill The Lights and the moment the two of you had, stopped as quickly as it started. A lot of whoo’s echoed in the packed living room as Calum’s friends joined you again, holding new, freshly made drinks. You quickly stepped back, letting go of the man’s neck and accepted the drink. The vodka slightly burned your throat as you gulped it down, trying to drown out what just happened. The alcohol made you looser, made you lose your carefully built wall to protect you against everything and everyone. The wall you build to keep the feelings you’ve been building up all these weeks, in a dark corner of your mind, trying to not give in and finally accepting that you really were falling in love with your roommate.

 //

taglist: @ashtonsos - @another-lonely-heart​ - @calmlftv - @cthofficial​ - @easierlftv​ - @kingcals​ - @lonely-hearts​ -  @spicycal​ 

want to be added to my taglist? let me know

[clairvoyantsam]

When dreams come true ft Jared Padalecki - 4th year anniversary

Rome, May 19th 2016 ... The day the ultimate dream came true! Some of you may remember I bumpted into Jared (or in fact, JARED bumpted into ME) while out and about in Rome that day, a few of my friends know all the details too, but I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned here exactly how and under what impossible circumstances this happened. So ... story time! (& stuff about jib5,6,7)

                                               BACKGROUND

This wasn’t the first time I met Jared, I had met him before at JIBCon5 in 2014, so this was my second time (I was supposed to see him at JIBCon6 in 2015 too which I attended as well but you guys know what happened that year). 

He was lovely that first time, I told him it was my first Supernatural convention and he gave me a warm welcome, made the entire experience so wonderful for me, during the photo ops, the autograph session (where I gave him a scrapbook with messages from fans I had been in contact with) and the panel question I asked him (I completed one of his sentences which was actually a Sam Winchester quote from SPN and it made both of us and the entire audience laugh xD - I have a photo of me somewhere from that moment and I haven’t seen myself smile so widely ever!). Anyway, like I said, the first convention was fantastic, a beautiful and most memorable experience (despite the fact that Jared had a misfortune that time too since he broke his arm and missed one of his panels as a consequence).

The second convention while it had its moments, it sat (and still sits to be honest) heavy in my heart because I was constantly worried about Jared’s wellbeing and everyone including me was heartbroken. The rest of the cast did everything they could to keep us all entertained, they truly did but there was a dark cloud over our heads that couldn’t be ignored. The first thing we talked about with Jensen at his meet and greet (because of  Jared’s absence, I was given the opportunity to be in that M&G, sitting right across from him and Robert Singer who was present at the con as well). Jensen was genuinely worried, he surely put on a brave face but whenever Jared was mentioned, he’d get emotional. While I asked show-related questions at the M&G, I wasn’t sure what to ask Jensen or tell him when I got his autograph and then I thought of the simplest thing: “So, I may be really sad about the empty spot next to you (Jared’s spot on the poster Jensen was signing for me) but I wanted to tell you that I truly appreciate the fact that you’re such a supportive and caring friend towards Jared. Everyone deserves a friend like you to have their back.” Then he took my hand, shook it, looked me right in the eye, put a hand on his heart and told me a sincere “Thank You”. Frankly, I loved Jensen even more at JIB6, he showed both a brave and vulnerable side and he tried so hard to give everyone a great time. My best photos with him are from that con for sure!

So, you see, I HAD to try and give my luck a third chance to live the perfect experience. I wanted to live it all, photo ops, autographs, M&G, panels but I also had a secret wish: to be one of those fans who accidentally meet their fav randomly in the city (NO stalking because that’s just fucked up, only by chance). I always saw posts of lucky people who got to meet him outside of conventions. He’s not one of those snob celebs, you see. He’ll always smile at you and talk to you and get pictures with you. So, I dreamt about it the entire year before JIB7. @darlingjared and I would talk and joke about it all the time, praying that our stars will listen and make a surprise meeting possible. Of course, deep down we know the chances were extremely low. Rome is a HUGE city with hundreds of places of interest. He could be anywhere, on the opposite site of where we’d be. 

The day finally arrived, and we got to Rome (Thursday, May 19th 2016). Soon after I arrived at the Hilton hotel, I got to my room to get some rest after the flight. Not much later, I got a text saying Jared was at the hotel!!!! (no idea why??? the convention was starting the next day and he wasn’t to appear until the day after that). Before I could get dressed to go check, he was gone but I heard he was really sweet and greeted everyone who said hi to him. 

In the afternoon, after I met with my roommate and @darlingjared ,we took the Hilton bus that took us downtown; it left us near the Victor Emmanuel II monument.  Naturally, we went for walks around the city. We had a bite to eat and then got lost in a street trying to find our way to the Trevi fountain, so we asked around and managed to get to our destination. We spent a few minutes there, taking photos and then continued our way, meaning to get to the Spanish steps. While we were heading there, rain started pouring, so we took shelter for a few minutes until it stopped. We thought, damn, we will never meet him during this weather. When it stopped, we did some shopping at a supermarket and since the time had passed and we had to grab our ride back to the hotel since the Hilton bus had a specific route schedule, we said let’s just pass the Spanish steps quickly, go down via Condotti and head back. (I have to mention here that my BEST DECISION EVER was to wear the Always Keep Fighting T-shirt for this walk). At this point, we were certain we wouldn’t meet him, so we basically forgot about it and just started chatting with each other and laughing. I mean, we walked around many places, we got lost, we got stuck in the rain. What were the odds??? So, we’re laughing at our own jokes and for some reason we had our attention focused at the right side of the street. I turn my head straight at the PERFECT time, seeing that beautiful, smiling giant, coming my way through the crowd and adressing me before I had the time to react:

Jared: “Hey, I love your shirt!” 

I fucking froze. Can you imagine?????? Not only did we eventually meet him but HE came to us FIRST to talk!!!!! We didn’t have to notice him and shyly go talk to him, wondering if we’re disturbing him, asking for pictures. He casually just approached us because he wanted to, because he’s kind and simple like that. I was so shocked, mouth agape, that he just went in for a hug to bring me back to reality!!! Now, name me another actor, another celebrity who will stop on his own to talk to you and hug you, I DARE YOU TO FIND ONE!!! He’s pure and special like that. He hugged each of us (gosh, he smelled like Heaven and looked so good in that sexy coat he wore, his hair kinda wet from the rain), asked us how we’re doing and then we asked if it would be ok to take some pictures with us. He said “sure!” and we took our phones out. Mine was brand new and I hadn’t even taken a picture with it, so, basically Jared blessed it first xD My hand was shaking so bad that I couldn’t take the picture, so, he put his hand on mine to steady it and took the selfie. He took pics with all of us, we thanked him and then he told us to have a good time and that he’d see us again at the convention. Needless to say when he left, we started losing it because we couldn’t believe what had just happened!!! It was out of this world. To this day, as I’m writing this, I still can’t believe it. We wanted something so SO much, that the universe made it happen. It’s one of those times that you know the stars aligned so that something you desired with all your heart could come true!

The entire convention was absolutely phenomenal. Jared remembered my face throughout the weekend, I asked him interesting questions during his panels and the one he shared with Jensen for which he later thanked me when I saw him at the photo ops (he particularly liked my question adressed to him and Jensen about the proudest they’ve felt about themselves in real life and about their characters on Supernatural and the other one concerning what Sam and Jared would tell each other if they met in real life which he found great because he said he had never been asked that before.) The M&G with him was a blast, he sat with us longer than what was expected, got to ask him two questions there (I have another detailed post with everything that was said in the M&G), he was super chill and eager to answer everything we wanted to know. When I got his autograph, I told him everything he means to me, thanked him for inspiring me to be a better version of myself, straight out told him I love him and he was so kind and gentle and shook my hand and told me he loved me back (also gave him a custom made chocolate I ordered particularly for him with #AKF as a theme). “I love you, always keeping fighting Jared, never forget.” I was on the verge of tears for multiple reasons but I had to say that to him. I was not in a good place back then and Jared was a beacon of light, of hope that kept me going. At our last photo op together, I asked him to hug me “like there’s no tomorrow” and he held me so tight in his arms, I couldn’t breathe but I didn’t care. I didn’t know what he looked like when he hugged me but getting out of the photo op room, the girl who was behind me stopped me in the hallway and said: “Omg, he was so sweet with you! Loved what he did with his eyes. Your photo will look beautiful”. I was confused because I was looking at the camera when the picture was taken, so I had to wait for my photo op to get printed to see what she was talking about. My heart melted when I saw this:

I mean, look at that SOFT face. He’s so sweet, you can FEEL his kindness radiating by reading his expression. Some people may think nothing of this but it meant the world to me back then. It was as if he was telling me “things will get better, you can do this” without using words.

When Jared hugs, he does it with everything he has, like he’s said before, hugging is showing you care about someone and damn, he does. He’s an actor but he doesn’t pretend during these moments, I can assure you. He’s a person who feels things deeply, he’s someone who understands what it’s like to struggle with your personal demons and that’s why I’ve always related to him the most. He has a heart of gold and personally, I’ll have his back always. He didn’t have to be so kind to me but he was and I will never forget that.

So this is my story. This post was probably too long but I had to share these thoughts. 

Jared, I know you don’t remember me but if you ever see this, thank you for being you, don’t ever change. I love you, man. #AKF

~Elena

[halfasleepoetry]

I'd LOVE to read more Archer x Rogerina!!❤ Don't have any specific requests so maybe just something from one of the prompts you have? And I agree, I don't care what Joe's in as long as I get to see more from him!!!

Omg thank you for asking for Archer x Rogerina because I do have something to share that I couldn’t quite fit into the ongoing narrative! So this is not based on a prompt, but since Trip The Light Fantastic is told in Ben’s POV, as I was working on Joe’s character, I wrote his version of that night. And here it is:

I catch you looking back at me, looking through a cloud of steam

Archer x Rogerina AU, Joe’s POV

Right before senior year began, Joe had just broken up with his then-girlfriend who was cheating on him with a mutual friend for almost as long as they were together. That was enough to put him off any kind of relationships for a while. Besides, he thought he’d give being completely and truly single, a try. He kind of miss the sex and occasional cuddling, not that he’s particularly the cuddling type, but it’s nice to have a warm someone in bed and not wake up cold and alone sometimes. But to compare that with the kind of serenity and peace he has now and the headaches he saved, he’d rather keep being single, thank you. He has more time than ever now to read and write and drive by himself, and he has even started dancing regularly again.

And then there’s the Halloween party at the Maleks’. It’s the kind of party that all seniors go to, many juniors get invited to, and selected few sophomores could get in by miracle, and freshman could only dream of going. Maybe next year, or the year after. The host of such a party is always that one kid in the senior year who is filthy rich and you’re lucky if he isn’t an asshole who also buys his way through college. Well Joe sure is lucky. That kid, or those kids, because there are two of them, are his childhood best friends, Rami and Sami, whose father is a rich Egyptian-American business tycoon who moved to New York and built himself a business empire working closely with the Arabs and their oil in the 80s. 

It was last year that Rami told him he has his eyes on a certain London girl who is majoring in arts together with Joe, who is in her sophomore year. Her name is Lucy. Of course Joe knows her. Joe knows everyone. It comes with being occasionally recognized as that kid from Jurassic Park, and every time one of his professors brought up the fact we have someone in the class who is here on the personal recommendation of Steven Spielberg, he would slowly slide down his seat a little, hoping the remark would remain just a remark, and it would be forgotten by the end of the class. Sometimes it works exactly like how he wants it to be, sometimes it doesn’t. Either way, it earns him a reputation that he plays down and many friends, no, a large group of people he socializes with regularly. So he is some kind of a popular kid too, although a somewhat reluctant one. 

The Maleks’ mansion is pretty much his second home, and he was in his element that night, having accepted Lucy’s dare to show up in a girl’s character costume, and she even volunteered to do his make up, on one condition; no glitter involved. She did manage to put on something metallic-hued on his eyelids though, because he looked in the mirror and his eyes sparkled subtly whenever he blinks. Lucy had shrugged it off and told him, it wouldn’t be too noticeable, the house would be dim and there would be light strobes instead of actual lighting.

Lucy smiled up at him as she gave his make up, her handiwork, its last touch. “My goodness, you’re beautiful,” she marvelled. “Don’t make me change my mind, Luce,” he warned her. “No, don’t!” Lucy protested hurriedly. “No, no, no. Now let’s go.” But not before she stopped one last time to take a selfie with Joe, no, the Archer.

His Archer costume was a hit, apparently. But he made it very clear that he’s there just to enjoy the company of himself. And dance like mad, which was great because he had gotten back at it and been practicing for a while now. And that’s when he saw Rogerina. One sulky Rogerina who was drinking beer alone and trying not to look like he’s staring when he pretty obviously was doing exactly that. Joe thought that they look kind of wildly different, him and Rogerina who has a more muscular build and moody-boyish look. He even stood with his legs apart, chugging his beer with one hand on his hip, not even trying to appear feminine. But even across the room, Joe could feel his eyes on him, and they’re crazy-intense. He didn’t even know how to describe it, but he had never been stared at like that since he was five and sitting in an audition for Stanley Kubrick. 

He thought about it, but Rogerina obviously isn’t one of the people he knows, because he knows everyone here. Almost. Let’s find out who you are, Rogerina, he thought as one of his favourite songs came on, and he danced to it with an added flair, his moves all smooth and pronounced. Rogerina kept staring even as he made his way to Rami and Lucy. Lucy asked him if he’s murdering people on the dancefloor, and he just laughed it off. He headed to the kitchen to retrieve some rum he knew is kept somewhere safe and away from casual partygoers, half-hoping Rogerina would follow him there. And he wasn’t disappointed. Well he had to talk with Chace first, and the first thing Chace said to him was, “Hey there gorgeous.” 

“Asshole.” He laughed him off, because he knew Chace well. He’s always trying to get into someone’s pants, gorgeous girls or boys alike. They’ve fooled around before, but decided it’s better to remain friends as they are now. They talked shop and laughed, but from the corner of his eyes he could see Rogerina approaching the kitchen. He had never wanted a friend to disappear so fast before. And he’s glad when Chace decided to go looking for pretty girls at the pool.

The masked hesitation he could sense in Rogerina’s voice as he said hi to him was cute, to say the least. When was the last time he had been chased after like this? He was so determined too. He told him he came looking for a light for his cigarette. Classic excuse. He has a deep voice, British accent, and a very boyish smile. Definitely not a senior, maybe not even from the same department. He’d have remembered someone like him. Joe found himself looking into green eyes as Rogerina stepped closer to him to light up his cigarette from the mini kitchen lighter he was holding. He smelled nice, with a faint hint of aftershave. He wondered if he’d taste like beer and cigarette and something entirely different or surprising.

Mint, Joe thought later as they began kissing and he’s savouring the blonde’s lips. The cigarette he lit up earlier must be his first, as the taste was very faint, and it soon disappeared. The bitterness of malt and mint on his tongue fits right in with the Coke and rum sweetness on his own. 

Rogerina kissed him like he meant it, like the persistence by which he went after him to the kitchen, which found him pressing the sides of his knees on Rogerina’s hips, and that’s when he found the lighter innocently tucked in the side pocket of his skirt. He wasn’t even surprised, but he was absolutely delighted at the thought of this green-eyed British boy going after him and cooking up a lie to flirt with him. Makes him want to give him exactly what he wanted, and set him on fire while doing so. So he kissed him deeper, tongue all the way in, a hand in hair and another on his back, gripping him through the white shirt. He pushed himself forward and closer, so Rogerina could touch more of his exposed thigh. There’s growing heat at the base of his guts, and he slid even closer to give friction to it, and that’s when he realized they’re both hard.

Holy shit, he thought, and almost immediately wanted, no, needed more of this delicious friction. They’re separated by layers of fabrics, but fuck if this doesn’t feel so good, kissing a boy indecently in an open space, pushing and rubbing against each other fully clothed while the sound of the party droned on in the near distance. There’s no way this would not look exactly like what it was, and the thought of anyone potentially walking in on them is an incredible turn-on.

But Joe did pull away from Rogerina, mainly because he did not actually want anyone to walk in on them, and he needed to at least get a name. “Ben,” he told him in between breaths, eyes still transfixed on his lips. He looked like he was dazed and drunk, or somewhere in between. They were kissing again in no time, and when Joe deliberately pushed himself against Ben as he slid down the kitchen counter, they both moaned loudly into the kiss, and he almost lost his mind a little. They’re fast becoming like magnets, one gravitating to the other as soon as they pull away. He wanted to get his hands everywhere on Ben, wanted to touch him, kiss him, make him moan his name. They were strangers barely ten minutes ago, it’s so fucking insane, but there’s nothing else he’d want more right now than this green-eyed Brit in Rogerina costume. But not just yet.

So he smiled sweetly to him when he asked him nicely if he’d want to get out of the party with him, and he thought there’s no way he’d say no to that. They were kissing slower now, heartbeat calmer, desire kept in check. He held his hand close, making sure he wouldn’t change his mind. Something’s telling him he needed to do this right. This isn’t just a party hook-up, a fooling around kind of fun.

That same something’s also telling him he’s hooked, and it felt headier and sweeter than anything he’d drank tonight.

So when they did get out of the party, not before he caught Rami for the barest seconds to say goodbye, surprisingly without Lucy by his side, he decided they’re not going immediately to his place. He still has Ben’s hand in his, and he’s looking at him and smiling with his lucid green eyes and Joe wondered if it felt a little bit more than just infatuation or hormones. He thought about how ridiculous it was to think of it as anything more than what it was, but it lingered on long after.

[goddammitstacey]

Hi so one of my patrons asked: “I would love it if you could write a sequel to/continuation of Finger Bangin'“ so HERE WE DIDDLY-DARN GO, MY PALS. It’s been a while so mind the mothballs!

The bar is hot, stuffy, crowded, and loud. Derek’s hating every goddamn moment of it, from the stink of alcohol to the patrons rubbing past him on the way to the bar.

There’s not a lot that would make him put up with this shit. Unfortunately, Stiles somehow slotted himself into top spot of that particular list without his noticing.

Stiles. Goddamn. Derek downs his drink and turns for another.

Tonight is Stiles’ first gig and the whole pack has turned out of the occasion. Erica’s dancing with Lydia somewhere both of them can be seen to the best effect. Jackson is trying to out drink Scott and failing. The only comradery Derek feels right now is with Allison, who looks about as comfortable as he does with so many exits blocked by drunk frivolity.

But this is Stiles. Stiles who buttered him up with two mind-blowing orgasms before asking him to attend his first show. As if Derek would have missed it. And not just because he still hasn’t gotten over his damn hand fixation.

This is a big deal for Stiles and Derek’s so fucked because that’s important to him now. Important enough he doesn’t even mind that he’ll have to shower twice to get the stink of strangers off him tonight. Mostly because he knows Stiles is likely to be in the shower with him.

10pm rolls around like a geriatric grandfather so Derek almost swears in thanks when the lights switch over to the stage. Stiles is the first out at least, greeted with a roar from the crowd mostly led by Lydia, Scott, Isaac, and Erica. He goes bright red at the attention even as he grins and waves. Derek knows enough about stage lighting that he can tell Stiles can’t see shit but it doesn’t seem to stop him from trying, eyes flicking around the bar until he seemingly gives up and drops down behind the drums.

The rest of the band takes their positions to similar fanfare, the lead singer stoking the flames of the crowd in a way that speaks to this not being her first gig at least. Heidi, Derek recalls her name. Stiles calls her the lesbian aunt he never had.

It’s interesting, actually, finally putting faces to names. Joel on base, Kelly and Jessie on guitar. Stiles talks so much about them Derek almost feels like he knows them himself.

Heidi expertly rides the crowd, smoothly transitioning the vibe into the first song. And Stiles . . .

Okay yeah, the bar is way too crowded. Because all of Stiles’ practice has paid off in the worst way. He’s owning the drums, shoulders rolling with the beat, fingers sure and steady around the sticks and . . . Derek’s never seen him play live.

Fuck.

Now is not the time to discover a competence kink, thanks very much. Only Derek’s apparently got no choice in the matter. Because Stiles is sure and practised and good. The whole band is actually.

Derek’s . . . not hating it.

The first song rolls smoothly into the second and the whole bar is like a live-wire. Derek’s not the only one enjoying the gig and he finds something in his chest swelling at the pride of it all. That’s his . . . his something. His Stiles up there.

They’re a rookie band so they’ve only secured a half set for the night. Derek doesn’t know whether to be glad or disappointed. Because on the one hand, Stiles is in his element, whole body rolling with the beat in a way that’s doing something animalistic to Derek’s gut. On the other . . . Derek really needs Stiles’ dick in his mouth. Yesterday.

The band finishes to roaring applause, the bar drowning out even Erica’s ear-rending wolf whistles. Derek downs his drink and makes an executive decision.

Stiles is the first one off the stage, launching himself bodily into Scott’s arms like he’s gonna fly away unless someone catches him. Erica’s next, using werewolf strength to lift Stiles and spin him around like they’re auditioning for Dirty Dancing.

It’s not just the pack congratulating him either. A group of excitable girls ask for a selfie which seems to baffle and delight Stiles in equal turns. And then there’s . . .

Derek narrows his eyes at the stranger. Dark hair, darker eyes, and a smirk that seems painted on as he greets Stiles and . . . yeah, no.

Derek makes his way through the crowd, appearing at Stiles’ side just as Stiles swerves out of reach of Smirk’s grab.

“Whoa, buddy,” Stiles is saying. “Bad touch.”

“Leave,” Derek says and it’s enough. Of course it is. Derek knows what he looks like even sans fangs.

Smirk beats it, holding up his hands in surrender as he melts back into the crowd.

“You have your murder eyebrows on,” Stiles says, reaching up to smooth one finger over Derek’s forehead. And fuck Derek’s life, he lets him.

“How long have you been here?” Stiles says, voice too casual to be anything but one thousand per cent invested in Derek’s answer.

“I watched the whole show, you idiot,” Derek says and Stiles lights up. “You were great.”

“I fucking know, right?” Stiles enthuses, fist pumping the air. “I am a drumming GOD.”

“You’re the god of something,” Derek says, dryly.

“Is it sex?” Stiles says. “Tell me it’s sex.”

“I hate you.”

“You want me.”

Derek sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Ugh, I do.”

Stiles grins like Derek’s handed him the keys to Christmas. “Wanna rim me in the bathrooms?”

In the disgusting, overcrowded, dingy club bathrooms. Lord help him. Derek waves Stiles on ahead and Stiles cackles delightedly as he leads Derek through the throng.

- - -

The toilet wall shudders with the force of Stile’s back hitting it but Derek can’t give two fucks about subtlety, not after that performance.

“I was- Ah! I was really okay?” Stiles says, voice going thready as Derek bites his neck.

“You were amazing,” Derek says. “Take off your damn pants.”

Stiles grunts and fumbles with his belt with one hand, using the other to get a grip on Derek’s hair to pull him back into a messy kiss.

Stiles kisses like he does everything else: slightly uncoordinated but somehow bafflingly adept. Derek’s lost many an afternoon to lengthy makeout sessions, drowning himself in the breathy slide of it all until he can’t focus on anything but the red of Stiles’ mouth.

But this isn’t one of their lazy afternoons.

Derek pries his mouth away from Stiles long enough to drop to his knees, a move that makes Stiles groan like he’s stuck a pin in him.

“Fuck, okay,” Stiles says, finally besting his buckle.

Derek wastes no time flipping him around because hell, this wasn’t his first plan, but Stiles had a better one. Always does, if Derek’s being brutally honest. It’s something he’s never, ever going to admit out loud.

Stiles’ hands slap down on the graffitied wall loud enough to be heard even over the beat of the music outside. The second band has started and they’re good but not as good as Stiles had been. The mood Derek’s in, Led Zeppelin would probably fall short at this point. But it’s fine. Stiles’ set is done and Derek’s determined to wring some different sounds out of him right now.

“Derek, you’re killing me here, just-“

The first swipe of Derek’s tongue earns him a drawn-out groan. From there, it’s easy – so easy.

They’ve only done this a handful of times because of what it does to Stiles. Impatient at the best of times, it’s the quickest way to string him out. When they have time, Stiles often prefers to drag things out, spend time wrecking Derek seven different ways before he allows Derek anywhere near one of his hair triggers. And most of the time Derek lets him – hands him the reins, so to speak, but there are times—times like this—where he needs the thrill of turning Stiles inside out. Because for all Stiles’ body instinctively races to the finish line, when it reaches it the result is nothing short of beautiful.

Derek doesn’t bother reaching for Stiles’ cock. He won’t have to. Not when Stiles is still so keyed up from the gig, not when Derek knows exactly what to do with his tongue to push him- Just. There.

“Fu- Derek!”

Stiles spills untouched, spend adding its own flair to the graffiti on the toilet wall. Derek doesn’t bother standing, just catches Stiles as his legs give out – can’t even care that he’s probably kneeling in god-knows-what right now. Because Stiles is warm and pliant and smells like . . . well, like them.

“I’m-“ Stiles swallows, still trying to catch his breath. “I’m gonna get you back for that.”

Derek just grins, pressing a kiss to Stiles’ neck. “Counting on it.”

[preface2adreamplay]

Under Your Spell (Part 21) - Let Me Twist It A Little Deeper

Summary: A Jared Padalecki/OFC /Oscar Isaac fiction.

Stef is not having the best weekend at the con.

Chapter warnings: Flirting, swearing, infidelity. masturbation, angst. 

Chapter WC: 3,554

Everything was packed and ready to go. Stef lay in bed, unable to switch off the noise of the day.

‘Come on, Stef, go asleep,’ she told herself. Pushing off the covers and pulling them back on again. Tossing and turning didn’t cover how much she had moved around. 

Finally, she gave up. Grabbing her phone from her bedside table. 4am. 

Claire was staying with Richard. Jared was with his family and who knows where Oscar was. 

She scrolled through insta for a while, seeing all the photos fans had shared from the previous day. A headache was forming behind her eyes, it was gonna be one of the bad ones, she knew. 

‘Fucking sleep!’ Stef cursed. Only one thing left to try. Reaching down under the sheets, Stef rolled her fingers around her clit, the first thought that came to her mind was Jared on stage, smiling and joking. The next thought was him shirtless, the last time he was in her bedroom, jeans hanging low on his hips, arm muscles bulging while he fished around on the floor for his clothes. 

Breathing out a soft groan, Stef continued, fingers finding her opening hot and wet. She slid inside, one finger. Jared breathing on her neck, sucking soft kisses against her jaw, his voice in her ear, ‘c’mon Stef, give it to me.’ 

It was a phrase he liked to use when he was in a playful mood, she would relinquish control of her pleasure to him. When he took control of her, his hands, his mouth, his voice would be everywhere, all over her. His mouth humming against her in the most delicious way. And she would ride waves of pleasure. 

Stef felt her walls contracting around her finger, her body trembling and finally stilled as she drifted into a disturbed and dream filled sleep.

Oscar had taken her by the hand, dragging her through the crowds, ‘look at them!’ he kept yelling over his shoulder. ‘Let go of me, I can’t go with you.’ Stef tried to twist her arm from his grip. They stopped at the stage where the Q&A had been. Jared sat with his wife in his lap, giggling with her between kisses. Instant fiery hot jealousy raged through her. ‘Look at them!’ Oscar said again. His dark eyes on the couple that were wrapped up in each other. Stef drew her gaze away, unable to look at them any longer. Oscar didn’t flinch when Stef waved her hand in front of his face, he was in a daze, his mouth open in a soft smile. ‘Help me get away.’ Stef shouted. Jared started, seeing Stef below him. ‘No wait, come back.’ He begged. 

Stef was running, the carpet beneath her bare feet was turning into steps too high for her to climb, she couldn’t run hard enough to get away. An arm caught her as she tumbled. 

Stef couldn’t hold back her tears, burying her face in the chest of the man holding her up. 

Stef woke suddenly, throwing the blankets away. Running her hands down her face, she glanced at herself in the mirror across the room. She was perspiring, hair was clinging to her neck. ‘What the actual fuck?’ 

Stef didn’t dream much, but that one made her feel sick to her stomach.

Wiping the bathroom mirror clean after a hotter than hell shower, Stef looked at her face, wanting the woman looking back at her to settle her nerves, tell her she wasn’t being an idiot, it went with the territory. 

Why are you really fucking surprised, was all she said. 

Stef sat on the side of the bath tub and cried. 

Claire had done her best to make up for not being around. When she finally got around to coming back to the hotel room they were sharing, Stef was dressed and fresh faced.

‘Did you sleep?’ Claire rummaged through her bag looking for clean clothes.

‘Not much. I bet it’s pointless to ask if you got sleep last night.’ Stef winked seeing Claire trying to hide a coy smile.

‘I have to shower but then we are definitely having breakfast. There is a thing on later that I wanna check out but I’ll be back before lunch and then we can head back to the airport, k?’ 

Claire was being overly nice, her voice raising a little higher with every sentence.

‘Richard wouldn’t happen to be doing the thing you’re interested in, is he?’ Stef finished applying a second layer of mascara. 

‘Maybe,’ Claire elongated the word, disappearing into the bathroom.

Stef’s phone beeped. Picking it up she saw a message from Jared.

Jared: Good morning sweet thang. x

Stef put the phone back down and checked herself in the mirror. Heaving a sigh, she gathered herself, put on a smile and bent to put on her Nike’s. There would be more walking today, it called for comfortable footwear. Her jeans were loose around her waist, she hadn’t realised she had lost some weight. Not too much to be noticeable she thought. 

Claire was singing in the shower. Stef chuckled, hearing it was one of her older songs, Claire loved the band Stef was taking a break from.

Shit, she thought, remembering one of the members had called her a couple of days previous to ask when she was available to meet up.

Every year or so they would meet, see what was going on with each other and decide if they would do new music or not. 

Hitting the call button, her old friend answered straight away.

‘Hey, Stef! How are you?’

‘Sorry I kinda forgot to call you back, Nik, I’m in Toronto right now.’

‘Yeah, I was talking to Oscar yesterday he told me he ran into you over there. Having fun?’

‘The most fun,’ she lied. 

‘We are meeting Friday night at that bar you hate.’ Nik blew smoke down the phone. Stef knew the sounds of him inhaling and exhaling like his life depended on that one cigarette.

‘I’ll be there.’

‘Great!’ He did sound excited. Stef smiled, excited to catch up with them.

‘Gotta go, I’ll get the details from you during the week.’

‘For sure. Later, Stef.’

‘Was that Jared?’ Claire peeked out from behind the bathroom door, steam billowing behind her. Strands of dark red hair plastered against her face.

‘Nah. Nik. Band meeting.’

‘Oh,’ Claire seemed a little disappointed. ‘Will you see Jared before we leave?’ Her voice kept on the side of casual/hopeful instead of the misery Stef felt creeping into her bones.  

‘I’d like to think so, but, with his family showing up I don’t know if he can get away.’

Stef didn’t have to hear Claire tutting from the bathroom to know how she felt about it. 

Stef looked at her phone as it pinged again. 

Jared had sent a very close up selfie. Laughing, she replied.

Stef: Good morning, Jared. How are you today?

Jared: Tired. Glad this con is almost over. Photo ops at 12, you gonna be around?

Stef: Yep, can swing by before we leave. 

Jared replied with a few celebratory emojis. 

‘Claire, come on, I’m hungry.’

‘Go down without me, I’ll be right behind you.’ Claire was brushing her teeth furiously.

Ok, Stef shrugged.

Filling her plate with as much food as possible, Stef was trying to figure out how to use the coffee machine when someone brushed past her, nudging her elbow, sending a piece of toast sliding off into the mug she had managed to fill with a watery mix of milk and coffee.

‘Sorry,’ a soft voice came. Stef turned to say it was cool when she met the woman’s eyes. 

‘It-it’s fine,’ Stef stammered, her eyes glued to the beautiful brown eyes staring up at her. It was Jared’s wife.

Fuck, Stef thought. 

‘You’re uhm, you’re…’ Gen tried to find a way to say her name without owning that this was the woman her husband was fucking. 

‘Yeah,’ was all Stef managed to say. 

‘Well, you’ve made him a happier man. When he comes home to us.’ Gen said graciously, putting a hand on the shoulder of a boy standing next to her, gaping up at Stef.

He had Jered’s eyes and my god, he had Jared’s hair. Stef swallowed hard, what could she say to that?

’Nice to meet you, anyway.’ 

Gen gave Stef a smile and taking her son by the hand, led him away. Stef closed her eyes, her mouth dry like a fucking desert. Suddenly, the coffee didn’t seem so important. But, there was a queue building up behind her.

‘Go ahead, I can’t seem to work it,’ Stef moved away from the person waiting patiently next to her. Rubbing her nose with her hand, she cleared her throat, not sure where to look or what to do. Fearful of moving her eyes across the room in case she were to see Jared’s family again or worse, Jared himself. She couldn’t face him now. 

Claire arrived, hair swinging, bosom bouncing, a huge grin on her face. ‘Hey did you get me coffee?’ 

Her smile turned to a horrified look, ‘you ok?’ Rubbing Stef’s shoulder. ‘You gonna puke?’

‘Maybe,’ Stef replied, ‘Can we grab a seat?’

Finding a small table hidden behind a huge, ugly plant, Stef told Claire what had just happened.

‘So she thanked you for sleeping with her husband? She’s a better woman than I would be.’

‘Claire!’ Stef pinched the bridge of her nose, the toast on her plate now finding its way to Claire’s mouth.

‘What?’ the redhead replied, ‘She could have ignored you, or punched you, or made a scene, but she didn’t. Sounds like she was just as shocked to bump into you.’

Stef nodded, her brow furrowed. ‘My life is not normal. This is getting awkward.’

‘This is probably the only time you will ever meet her or even see her, just chill.’

Stef blew out a breath, rubbing her sweaty hands against her jeans. 

‘I’m gonna get you a coffee and a chocolate croissant, then we can go see Richard. He will make you laugh and forget your troubles.’

Stef groaned.

‘Now that was my attitude when I first came to the con, you changed my mind. C’mon.’

‘Is it bad that I want a Margarita for breakfast?’

‘Yes, it is, this situation is not that bad.’

***

Claire hadn’t let Stef hide away in the room, which was a good thing. The convention was so big, the chances of her running into Gen again were slim, but Stef kept looking over her shoulder anyway. She regretted agreeing to see Jared at the photo op’s, but bit the bullet - well, asking Richard to scope out the room first and waiting for him to come back and confirm it was mostly Padalecki-free. 

Stef had never seen this section of a convention before, people lining up to take silly/well thought out pictures with Jared and Jensen. 

Jensen smiled and nodded when he saw Stef waiting off to the side. He leaned in to say something to Jared, who turned his head so quickly in her direction, his hair flipped into Jensen’s face, hitting his friend in the eye. The people close enough to see roared with laughter. Jared was falling over himself apologising to Jensen, clapping him on the back with his huge hand, winking over at Stef. 

‘I see why you like him,’ the familiar voice next to her made her smile. ’Tall, handsome, funny. I’d hit it.’

‘Oscar,’ Stef scolded softly. He was alone, standing with his hands in his pockets.

‘Where’s your date?’

Oscar made a dismissive sound, ’She bounced, I’m really good at making people feel unwanted, apparently. It’s a talent, it would seem.’

‘She left?’ Stef shook her head, laughing. 

‘Yes, she did. She said I wasn’t emotionally available.’ Leaning in so that only Stef would hear. ‘I’m kinda glad, she was jealous about everything.’

‘You’re not into chicks that are fawning over you?’ Stef bit her lower lip.

‘Nah, maybe I just didn’t like her.’

‘You heading home today?’ 

‘Yeah, you?’

‘You don’t sound excited.’ Stef was watching a couple set up their photo, within seconds their experience was over. A fleeting moment that would stay with them forever. 

Jared made eye contact with her and pulled one side of his mouth into a grin, looking over Oscar quickly and greeting the next in line. 

‘Want me to get out of your hair?’ Oscar murmured. 

‘No,’ Stef hooked her arm into his, changing the direction so she was walking away from Jared’s line of sight.

‘We haven’t had time to hang much at all.’

‘You want to hang with me?’ 

‘Yeah.’ Stef squeezed his arm. Oscar’s chest puffed out a little. 

‘What’ll we do then.’

‘I saw a stall with some stuff that had your Star Wars guy, Darius specifically requested something with your face on it.’

Pushing his tongue between his teeth, Oscar threw his head back to laugh. 

‘Why the fuck not, let’s buy my own merchandise.’

***

Jared: Where did you go? Photo ops just done.

Stef: Just grabbing a drink, you want one?

Jared: I’ll meet you in the bar, I’ll be about 5 minutes.

‘Is that him?’ Oscar eyed her over his drink, taking a long gulp and sighing. 

‘Yes, he’ll be down here in a few minutes.’ Stef put a hand on his arm. He had rolled up his shirt sleeves. One fist resting on his hip and he cocked an eyebrow, glancing around the room, he looked too hot. Stef had to check herself.

‘Why are you looking at me like that?’ He said, not looking at her, his eyes resting on a pair of blondes sitting at the opposite end of the bar.

‘Like what? I don’t want you to go if that’s what you mean.’ Stef pouted.

‘No, you’re looking at me like I’m lunch.’

Stef opened her mouth to laugh, involuntarily spitting her drink across his lap.

‘Oh shit, I’m so sorry.’

Oscar brushed the droplets away, laughing too much to form a coherent sentence. ‘I didn’t think it would have that effect.’

Wiping her chin with a napkin, she eyed him curiously.’ What kind of reaction did you think you would get?’

‘I dunno, I thought it might make you argue with me.’

‘You want an argument?’ 

’Nah, I just wanted to wind you up a little before your dude gets here.’

‘My dude, as you say, is already here.’ Stef raised her eyebrows in greeting as Jared made his way toward them. Oscar turned his head, not bothering to adjust how he was sitting, legs splayed open, knees on the outside of Stef’s, keeping her sitting in place at the bar. 

‘Hey,’ Jared said softly, tucking hair behind his ear. 

‘Hi,’ Stef grinned up at him. He was nervous, shifty. 

‘I guess I should formally introduce you both.’

They did that thing that men do when they don’t think women notice, they were eyeing each other, sizing each other up. Shaking hands and making pleasantries. Neither spoke, waiting for Stef to break the ice.

‘We will be leaving after lunch.’

‘Isn’t lunch, like, right now.’ Jared checked his watch.

‘Shit it is. Where the hell is Claire??’ Stef reached into her bag and checked her phone. No messages. Typical.

‘I cannot trust that woman around Richard, my god!’ Stef huffed, pressing the call button and listening to the tone on the other end, knowing Claire wouldn’t be picking up.

‘She could be back in the room.’

Oscar was half grinning, a knowing look on his face. ‘Better go check, you don’t wanna miss your flight again.’

‘Again?’ Jared was looking incredibly awkward now. 

‘Oh, Claire has made Effie miss a couple of flights over the years. She almost missed a video shoot her band was doing in Italy.’ 

‘Oh don’t remind me, that woman causes me stress I could do without.’ Giving up on the idea of Claire picking up her damn phone.

‘I gotta head back up to the room anyway, we will be leaving soon too.’ 

Jared put a hand gently on Stef’s elbow, hoping to get her up off her seat and away from Oscar. 

‘Yeah I’ll walk with you,’ turning to Oscar, placing a beer mat on top of her glass. ‘Mind my spot for a few minutes?’ 

Oscar nodded, turning his attention back to the blondes at the bar.

‘Nice to meet you, man.’ Jared offered Oscar his hand, the shorter man taking it, ‘You too, finally.’ Oscar winked at Stef as she walked away.

Stepping into the elevator, they were finally alone. Jared grabbed her waist, drawing her to him. ‘Damn, I’ve wanted to kiss you all fucking day.’ His teeth were nipping at her lips, teasing. Stef stood on her tip toes, trying to reach his mouth. ‘Kiss me then.’

Jared groaned when their lips met. It wasn’t long enough. The doors were opening on her floor. He took her hand in his, leading her down the hall. Stef was looking down at her small hand wrapped in his. ‘That ok?’ He squeezed her fingers.

‘Yeah, just surprising.’ 

Jared shrugged, stepping behind her as she slid the key card into the hotel room door. They were greeted with two naked bodies writhing on the bed. 

‘Oh god!’ Stef covered her face, unable to tear her eyes away from Richard’s naked ass bouncing as he pummelled into Claire.

Pulling the door closed with a bang, she covered her face, eyes wide. ‘How can I un see that?’ She gasped, laughing so much she thought she would puke.

Jared was on his knees, unable to speak. 

It took a few minutes for them to calm down, Richard’s frantic cries of ‘are you guys still out there?’ made the situation worse. Neither Stef nor Jared could answer him.

Jared had managed to drop his gum onto the carpet, causing him to laugh even more.

‘Don’t put that back in your mouth.’ 

‘That’s what she said.’

‘Oh Jared, please stop, I’m in pain from laughing.’

A large hand was on her back, her face was suddenly crushed into his chest. He was gasping for air like he had run a race. 

‘Well that’s put a good ending to a rough weekend.’ Jared was wiping tears from his eyes.

Stef remembered running into Gen earlier in the day, her stomach twisting with guilt. Or maybe it was jealousy. Or a sickening mixture of both.

Swallowing, she looked up at Jared.

‘What’s up, babe?’ 

‘Nothing.’ She lied, kissing him gently on the mouth.

‘You sure?’

‘Yeah, I’ll just miss you is all.’

‘You have good company downstairs, Oscar is keeping your seat for you at the bar.’

‘Jared…’ Stef wanted to explain what had happened earlier, but he cut her off with another kiss.

‘I’ll call you tomorrow, I’ll be back home. After the kids go to bed. Sound good?’

’Sounds good.’ Stef agreed, unable to hide the disappointment in her eyes at how this weekend had panned out. 

Richard opened the door, having dressed himself in a hurry. ‘Come on, man.’ he said to Jared, pushing past them, his cheeks flushed, hair tossed from Claire’s fingers. 

‘Gotta go.’ Jared kissed her quick and left, following Richard down the hall. 

Stef stuck her head in the door, ‘you decent?’

‘Doesn’t matter, you saw everything just now.’ Claire wasn’t half as bashful as Richard. 

‘Oscar is waiting for me at the bar. Meet us down there?’

‘Let me just fix my sex hair and I’ll be down.’

When Stef made it back down to the bar, she saw Oscar talking to a woman. She was hitting his arm and laughing. It was fake. Everything about her was. You can spot when someone wants someone because of their fame, and this was one of those vacuous women.

Stef put her arm between them to get her drink. ‘Oh hey, you’re back.’ Oscar looked happy at her reappearance. 

She was one of the blondes he had been ogling. His face said ‘please help.’ And while Stef would usually have left him to it, she decided on this occasion to do a good deed. 

’I’m Stef,’ she said, sticking her hand out for the stranger, who took it, gingerly.

‘Sorry, are you with him?’ She asked, pointing a talon at Oscar’s chest.

‘Yeah,’ Stef said simply.

The blonde looked her up and down, taking in the old Nike’s, loose jeans and band t-shirt. 

‘Call me,’ she mouthed to Oscar, swaying back toward her friend. 

‘Do not call her.’ Stef warned, sliding back onto the barstool, her legs fitting snuggly between Oscar’s again.

‘Just filling the time til you came back,’ Oscar sighed, leaning his torso toward her.

‘You look flushed, what’s up.’

‘I just caught Claire and Richard fucking.’ Stef looked at him, wide eyed and excited. 

Oscar put a hand over his mouth, his nose scrunched up as he laughed. ‘No fucking way.’

Stef finished off her beer in one gulp. ‘Buy me another one and I’ll describe Richard’s ass to you.’

‘Oh fuck, please don’t. But, I’ll definitely buy you another drink.’ Oscar winked, turning to grab the barman’s attention.

Butterflies. He had given her butterflies with that look.

Fuck, she thought

[utopiannamjoon]

A Knight in leather armor Chapter 6: Burning up

Genre: Angst, fluff, university au, biker au, enemies to lovers sort of thing

Pairing: Jeongguk x reader, Taehyung x reader

Major characters: Jeongguk, Taehyung, Yoongi, Jimin, OC

Warnings: Depictions of violence, swearing, blood, character injury, mention of child abuse

Words: 4,5k

Synopsis of the serie: You had an uneventful life, you went to uni and wanted to get by with no trouble but that with was thrown out of the window when you run into a biker, literally smashing your face against him at the university. Everything is changed from that point forwards.

Synopsis of this chapter: You and Jeongguk have nothing but time on your hands, you’re unsure and helpless but a simple command takes that even further with a revenge on Pogtan.

A/N: Remember to like, reblog and comment to know if you liked it and want to see more.  You shippers are gonna like this one

~

You leaned your back against the lumpy pillow of the couch twirling the polaroid in your hand that you found in Tae’s room. It was a selfie with you and the boys on the lake you used to hang around but you managed to forgot that photo being taken. All of you looked so happy. You all but Jeongguk grinned from ear to ear, he just smiled, bunny teeth peeking through the corner of his mouth, looking at you under his lashes with a warm expression. Taehyung was so full of life, grin firmly planted on his face and arms wrapped around you while his eyes tightly closed. The dramatic contrast from the Taehyung in the polaroid to the Taehyung laying on his bed was heartbreaking. What was once a shirt now tightened around him but it still didn’t stop the blood trickling out. He was pale and immobile. You spent every second wishing he would get back to what he was.

Every two minutes Jeongguk went in the room to check his pulse and breathing pattern, he couldn’t stop fidgeting around. It wasn’t changing- and honestly you didn’t know which was worse if it was to change in any direction. You hated yourself for not listening closely enough in healthcare and for not choosing to study nursing. And of course it being middle of the night, both of you were exhausted and on your nerves, you were unsure and filled with worry.

”We’re out of food,” Jeongguk sighed, holding the handle to the fridge. ”You wanna go or do I?” He spared a glance at you in between checking the cabinet for any crumbs. ”I’ll go.” You hoisted yourself up and took a final look at the photo before setting it down on the table. ”I’ll grab something to treat Tae as well.” ”Thanks.” He walked up to you and handed you cash from his pocket only for his eyes to fall to the table. His gaze glued on the polaroid and he took a long second. ”Actually... I don’t think it’s a good idea.” He had the picture in his other hand and sighed, deeply. What are the chances that something would happen to you too?

Looking out of the window, into the dark night, with only street lamps lighting the way, even if that, half of them were broken or destroyed, he couldn’t help the empty feeling grow inside his chest. "Dangerous for you to go there and I just... I... it....” ”Are you alright?” You asked when he couldn’t get the sentence out. It wasn’t like him to be like this. Jeongguk is a strong willed man and seeing him like this made you uncertain. ”I’m okay, it’s just... will - will you be fine with him?” ”I’ll take care of Tae, now go.” You ushered him, there was no point to wait around any longer. You were out of materials and one of you had to go, staying in and pondering about it would just waste time you didn’t know if you had. If Jeongguk felt better going out in the dark by himself rather than sending you then it would just be that way, so you watched as he closed the metal gate and disappeared into the darkness. You kneeled in front of Taehyung’s form on his bed, his breathing was shallow and his pulse was fairly regular pressed against your forefinger on his neck. That’s a good sign, right? You stroked his hair behind his ear for it only to flop back on his forehead and eyes. It made sense as to why he would wear the bandana, he looked intimidating when his hair wasn’t in his face, especially when he furrowed his eyebrows. But when his hair would be swinging wildly, he looked cute and approachable, someone who your mom even fell for. Jeongguk had set him to lay on his stomach so that you had access to Taehyung’s cut, and to prevent for the stitches from opening if Taehyung woke up or stirred. You dabbed a cottonball in pure alcohol and lifted up his shirt and opened up the bandages. You had no idea what to do, before all this happened the worst injury you’ve ever seen was when your father cut the tip of his finger off while cooking when you were young. He just put a band-aid on it and ordered pizza instead with few curse words along the way. You swiped the wet cottonball on Taehyung’s cut, to clean it, preventing the likelyhood for an infection... but most importantly, feeling like you were useful. You couldn’t help the thoughts of the worst happening invading your mind. What if Tae didn’t make it? It wouldn’t take much for his system to stop working all together. The only thing going for him was that he is young and healthy, and that the cut didn’t puncture any organs - if it had you and Jeongguk would be completely useless. There was a light knock on the door which made you hum of how polite of Jeongguk was to let you know he was coming in. His politeness turned down when the banging got louder and harder. ”Don’t you have keys?” You scoffed as you went to open the door for him, ”A key would be a good investment - YOONGI!” Yoongi held his side and shuffled past you. He didn’t quite make it to the couch before collapsing, his torso hitting the soft material but his knees hitting the floor. It didn’t take long for you to see the bruises covering his arms and face, just from his clothes it was evident he  had a rough night. His left eye was swollen shut and his lip busted open. A dry patch of blood covered his cheek and chin. ”Hey, I’m back! There was a package of those parts Yoongi sent to be painted for the crappy bike, they’re back already, so fast.” Jeongguk came in with a cardboard box in his hands, shopping bag on top, it was too big for him to see you from behind. He set it on the table. ”How’s Tae?” Jeongguk asked and finally got his head lifted to your horrified eyes staring at Yoongi. His eyes changed from the casual look into a worried one, his eyebrows rose and pupils widened. He dropped on his knees next to Yoongi. ”What the fuck happened? What did they do?” His eyes wandered around Yoongi’s tortured body. ”Give... me... water...” You hopped over Jeongguk’s legs and got the first cup you saw while he helped Yoongi on the couch. His face twitched and eyes shut from the move up. You handed the cup to him to which he reached forward, ”Thanks — AH AHHH!” The pain was too unbearable to  keep silent. ”I think these fucks broke my ribs.” He lifted up his torn shirt from the side to expose his ribcase. Colors of red and purple covered his left side and chest. ”This is so fucked but I don’t know which god to thank that you’re doing better than Tae.” Jeongguk said and tilted his head to examine the damage on the dark purple spot on his side. ”There’s something broken in there for sure.” ”Yeah... Wait - He’s alive?” Yoongi’s eyes shot up to Jeongguk’s and then to yours. ”Is he really?” he asked, eyes glowing and filling with hope they didn’t have a second ago. ”He is still breathing but got a nasty cut. We’re lost without you, we don’t know what to do.” You rubbed your forearm and pouted, this wasn’t a normal situation in the slightest. What broke you even more was that Yoongi had spent the night in the belief that Taehyung was gone. Yoongi sighed deeply of relief and his eye twitched from the pressure to his side from the inhale. ”They asked for invitations for his funeral.” You didn’t need to look at Jeongguk to feel him boiling over next to you. His fist tightened and lips pulled a flat line. The intention wasn’t to just hurt, it was to kill and shake everyone involved. ”How much blood did he lose?” ”Quite a bit... I don’t know how much or certain.”

Yoongi nodded and took a moment to himself before speaking, “They stole everything I had on me, including our money and my bike keys,” he leaned his arm on the arn of the couch and smirked, one eyebrow raised high and teeth peaking from his mouth, “Hey Jeongguk, ain’t that financial ruin?”

“Do you mean it?” Jeongguk’s eye lit up and his pupils grew, along with the bunny smile that was no longer cute but sadistic. You weren’t sure what was going on, you weren’t in on this.

“Yup, cause that to ‘em,” Yoongi nodded.

“Are you going to be fine if I leave?” Jeongguk asked. You looked at him, he bit his bottom lip and had his gaze pressed on the wall towards the dozens of polaroids. You never thought they’d be into revenge. ”Tae’s in the other room?” Yoongi asked. ”Go. I’ll take care of him.” Go where? It’s like he knew what was going to go down. ”Take her with you, nothing good will come out of this if she’s not there.” Jeongguk nodded and pressed his finger on your arm to motion you to follow him. You were uneasy leaving Yoongi and Taehyung for that matter, but he assured you they’d be fine. You followed Jeongguk to the garage. "Grab that,” Jeongguk pointed at a black gas can while searching for the keys he stole for the rat truck. ”It’s heavy...” You breath out and grew nervous by the second of what he had in mind. He picked up two larger red gas cans and set them on the pick up truck, before he slammed the door after himself. ”What’s in it?” You asked when you got in after him, but you knew, you just hoped it wasn’t what you thought it was. He hummed with the sadistic smirk making its form on his face, ”Gasoline.” ~ You pulled over next to the cornfield near Pogtan’s wooden hut and their barn. Jeongguk hopped out of the car and picked up the two cans from the back and waited for you to come aswell, trying to ignore the excitement he carried. You got your smaller can and struggled to follow him in to the maze. He carried more and bigger gas cans than you did but it was so effortless from him. You were breaking a sweat from just the one, heavy, can you pulled along with you. ”I never thought that accidentally opening the door for Yoongi would lead me to sabotaging others,” you joked to lighten up the mood made from the lack of communication and the intention he had in mind when you had finally reached the marijuana plants in the middle of the field. ”You thought it was me?” Jeongguk looked up from opening the latch of the gas can. He sounded surprised with his voice dropping just a bit. ”Yeah...?” ”You thought?!” His voice rised further than you would’ve believed, he looked offended. ”Don’t you make sure who it is? What if it was anyone else than Yoongi? Look what they did to Tae, they could’ve done something worse to you like -” ”Don’t you think I can handle myself? Do I always need protection from you?” You had to cut him off, it wasn’t the first time Jeongguk went on a rant of how dainty you were. He was no longer slouched over the gas can so he stood tall and was honestly intimidating. ”I know you don’t need me.” The words that left his mouth got you confused. ”I’ve known since you told me to fuck off and you genuinely meant it, I could see it from your eyes. You don’t need anyone to protect you but I need to do it. I know you don’t need me” he lowered his gaze away from your face, ”it’s me who needs you.” You were mindblown, you couldn’t say anything, your mouth fell open and words got stuck in your throat. You were expecting him to blow up but not like this, he was spilling his deepest emotions and not rage. ”They can beat me, violate me, do unforgiven things to me but once they touch my loved ones I will make sure they join hell with me. There are three people that I love and they’ve touched every single one of them. They wanted to kill Tae, they broke bones on Yoongi - Which they’ve never done before. I can count the times they’ve hit Yoongi on my two hands. He is usually left alone.” He paused for a while and turned down his volume, ”They’ve kidnapped you once for bait, what’s to say that next time isn’t way worse? I can’t live with that idea.” You mirrored his expression of pure worry but your throat was dry and you didn’t say anything. These are the kind of words you once expected from Jimin but when he failed to deliver them, you forgot the whole idea of someone caring so much about you. But then there was Jeongguk. He went out of his way to make sure you’re safe, even though he knew you could handle it yourself. He wanted to be that safety for you, not because you needed it, but because he cared enough to provide it - what was even better, he didn’t expect anything back. There was something in his eyes, they glowed in the dark and was full of something you couldn’t quite catch. Jeongguk sighed and picked up the open gas can. He said his piece and if you had nothing to say then it was a done deal, he thought. He walked in between the pot plants and started pouring, spilling the fuel everywhere. You went around the plants and threw gasoline everywhere you saw fit. It was more difficult than expected, the gas can would shift its weight around on every move, you struggled with that. Jeongguk opened his second gas can and knocked it down on the ground. ”Won’t this land us in jail?” You threw your empty can along with the full one he knocked down. ”The cops won’t care and they wouldn’t tell on us for destroying drugs.,” Jeongguk shrugged and started pouring a trail leading out of the maze. ”They deserve this for nearly ending Tae’s life.” ”Why did they target him exactly?” ”Simple,” Jeongguk shrugged again and pursed his lips, ”Tae killed Poodle’s uncle.” ”Huh?!” You snapped your head at him - or rather his back. He was scrouched over, making sure the trail was intact, ”You’re not serious.” ”You know,” he started as he looked at the shimmering trail, ”Tae has a little sister whom he adores so much, I think that’s why he is so overly protective over you.” He shot you a small smile that soon fell down. ”Poodle’s uncle did something to her... we don’t know what and Tae refuses to speak about it.” You didn’t want to entertain that thought for longer, what ever it was it couldn’t be anything anyone could accept. ”So he... killed him...?” ”Just one deep cut from his stiletto knife was enough... of course Tae knew what to do and twisted the knife so his chances of survival grew to minimal.” Jeongguk set down the gas can he just emptied, ”Tae caught him in the middle of an alley trying the same to some other girl.” He said while still looking at the ground, you weren’t sure if it made easier for him to talk about. He shook his head and moved on the topic.

He dug his hand into his pocket and gave you a box of matches, ”Wanna do the honors?” You lit up a match and threw it on the ground. The trail caught on fire instantly and ran inside the maze of corn into the pot plants, the fireball went up at the sky and grew aggressive, starting to flame up the corn as well.

Jeongguk smiled, from ear to ear. He looked proud with his chest puffed and hands by his side when he just admired what you had done. The smile grew bigger when faint sounds of shouting and yelling came from the otherside of the maze.

“What’s that?” You looked at him confused, you didn’t want to hurt anyone unintentionally. You doubted that he did this while whole of Pogtan was present.

“The beginning of the end my dear,” He smiled at you and shifted his weight from side to side. 

Four people ran around the side of the maze and stopped when they saw you two standing there. They were a good distance away but you recognized them all despite the darkness. The flames danced wild while no one made a move.

“Do you wanna make Jimin madder?” Jeongguk smirked, not shifting his attention away from the men.

“How?” You were quick to ask, you wouldn’t pass on that idea.

“Like this.” Jeongguk grabbed your head and slammed his lips against yours. His palms were set against your cheeks that quickly grew red from the sudden attention. It was a light kiss despite how fast it happened. You don’t know how long it lasted when he pulled away, he was unfaced unlike you. Your feelings shot in every direction and you didn’t know which of them to focus on.

”And this.” He smirked and you screeched when he picked you up in his arms. Your arm found it’s way around his neck and the other flipped off your enemies.

”Nice,” he laughed and walked with you in his arms towards the truck.

It felt amazing to finally realize that you really gave no fucks of what Jimin thought of you, you really didn’t care. He could hate you or love you and it really made no difference. Just before Bangtan thought you to be yourself and stood up to yourself you were so desperate for everyone’s approval. For once in your life you were allowed and expected to make your own decisions. 

So, to make another decision of your own, you set your finger under his chin to make him look at you. He lifted up his eyebrow and smiled, waiting for you to say something.

You slightly tilted your head and kissed him, this time savoring what was happening. He took no time to kiss you back but it was unexpected, he nearly missed his footing but thankfully regained his balance. Your fingers tangled in his ruffled hair all the while he worked to deepen the kiss.

You reached the truck and you were forced to pull away when he set you on your feet, but before you did you felt his lips form a smile on yours.

”We’ve got to run,” the coy smile was on his face, and eyes still glued to your lips.

He was right. You set someone’s property on fire and to avoid ass beating you had to go fast, really fast. This wasn’t the time to socialize despite of how much you wanted it. Jeongguk was a strong guy but he couldn’t handle four guys in a fight. 

Jeongguk slammed on the gas and with insane drifting you were finally off the wet grass of the morning hours.

Your mind wandered everywhere during the ride, he barely spoke but the smile on his lips never faded, neither did yours. Your heart raced and you couldn’t stop over-thinking, until he took a wrong turn that is. Your mind shut down from the giddy thoughts.

”Aren’t we going to the club?” You asked once Jeongguk pulled over the rat truck in a suspicious looking lot filled with rusty cars here and there. ”We’re gonna set this bad boy on fire,” he said, simply as always while tapping his hand on the dashboard, but before exiting the car he went through every corner and gathered any loot worth something. Jeongguk took a look at the empty bed of the pick up with the last gas can in hand, he frowned and shook it, ”We don’t have anymore left.” ”Then how’re we gonna destroy it?” Your stomach dropped and sweat pushed from your temples, you were starting to feel nervous. Did you have to destroy it in the first place?

”Don’t be so hasty,” Jeongguk winked and opened the gas can. He took out the pipe and stuck it in the gas tank of the truck. ”Let’s hope it’s fueled up…” he set his mouth on the top of the pipe and sucked, soon grimacing from the awful taste in his mouth.

”YUP!” Jeongguk spat out the gasoline and lifted up the pipe, making sure the fuel from it dripped everywhere, leaving a small, extremely flammable trail. He motioned his open palm in front of you, signalling you to step back. ”It’s going to explode once I set it on fire.” ”Isn’t that a movie thing,” you asked and backed off with small steps.

”Shooting at a gas tank won’t explode it. Igniting the fuel will because of the amount of fuel in such a small place.” He said and lit up the match. He gave you a look before he scraped the match on the box, he put it on the ground and bolted, “Go GO GO!”

The flames ignited faster and harder than you expected compared to what happened at the maze. The gas tank was full and it ignited with such a force it made a loud boom while the fire tore it’s way through the metal.

You had ran far enough with Jeongguk but the noise still startled you. You accidentally bounced against him to his surprise but he thought nothing of it, just wrapping his arms around you to make sure you won’t fall from your clumsyness.

Your back pressed against his chest as his arms took you in their care “We’ve got to hurry. The police actually might come here.” He couldn’t help but let the nervous chuckle out once he let you go but gracefully slithered his hand on yours.

You ran with his hand engulfing yours, you haven’t run this fast since you quit being on the track team, but this time it was better, it didn’t feel like a chore. Your heart was racing and beating out of your chest but not because of the spurt, because of him.

You reached the club house and Jeongguk let you in first. He set his hands on his thighs to huff in some air. You heard the police sirens pass the property, never stopping on the way. You could finally sigh from relief, though Jeongguk never doubted you’d actually get caught.

Yoongi sat on the couch where you had left him few hours earlier, his head was tilted at an angle to scan your and Jeongguk’s heavy breathing forms. You just rushed in without saying a word.

“Have you gotten up at all?” Jeongguk turned his head at Yoongi who just shrugged.

“With great struggle I have,” he said, “Y/n, I think you wanna go to say hello to someone,” he pointed his thumb at Tae’s room, “The stitches were better than I imagined, well done Jeongguk.” 

“Actually it wasn’t me, I couldn’t do it. Without her help I would’ve been useless.”

“You’re our savior then,” A smile spread on Yoongi’s often so serious face while looking at you, and just by his look you started to grow warm, you felt proud. 

“Go in,” he ushered you.

You peeked in the room to find Tae laying on his back, his head was prompted on a pillow against the board of the bed. His eyes grew into slits when you entered, just only then the smile following to his lips.

He was alive, some color had returned his face, his cheek were rosy. He didn’t look close to being healthy but much better than he was when you left, Yoongi really had a magic touch and to think he did this all the while being hurt himself.

You crouched down and swooped his hair away from his forehead, his smile growing even bigger.

He grabbed your wrist when you were pulling away, “It wasn’t my time to go,” he said slowly and silently all the while looking at you- His eyes followed the tear that fell down your cheek, he exhaled through his nose and hummed, “Thank you.” He pulled you closer and his hand found its place on your back and you buried your face in his neck with your eyes closed shut to prevent the tears from falling.

He was alive. You were an idiot to leave him in his condition to someone who was barely able to stand up by his own, but he survived. Your best friend pulled through during the time you had left him. What if he didn’t end up like this?

Taehyung shushed you, his voice vibrated against your ear but it wasn’t enough to calm you down. You tried your best to not bawl your eyes out but it was unsuccessful.

”I think I’ve entered heaven,” he said and wasn’t shy of letting his amusement been heard, ”There’s an angel in my arms.”

Jeongguk sat down on the arm of the chair and stayed with Yoongi to let you have a talk with Taehyung first. He slightly smacked Yoongi’s knee. ”How’s Tae? And more importantly how’re you?”

”Good, surprisingly. I was about to take everything from our safe to take him to the hospital but then he opened up his eyes when I yelled from kicking my foot at the door,” he chuckled and shook his head. He looked at the swollen ankle he had prompted up on a chairm wondering how on earth he walked to the club like that. “I’m a bit beaten but it’s going to be alright, I’ll handle it. Good job on taking care of Tae.”

”I didn’t stitch him, she did. Without her he would’ve died, I don’t know what happened. I froze.”

”Everything’s fine now though, so it’s okay. And hey, Tae’s not in fatal conditition, I think he got knocked out from the shock and the pain,” he explained but to deaf ears. Jeongguk had his attention towards the open door to Tae’s room, he heard your cries and Tae’s words.

”You know you can’t throw a fit if she picks him over you.” 

”I know. She’ll pick anyone she likes as long as she is safe and happy,” Jeongguk returned his gaze and a sorry smile to Yoongi, ”... that brings me to this; do you remember our plan?”

”Which one.”

”The one to take down Pogtan.”

”Ah, operation Get ’Em, it’s my masterpiece, of course I remember.” Yoongi looked like a proud father, his lips pulled up along with his chin, “Why?”

”Let’s do it, we just have to take down Poodle, the others will fall along him. They need a leader and Poodle took advantage of their small minds.”

”It’s risky for you. Are you sure?”

”I am.” His lips pulled a tight line, at once something Jeongguk was hundred percent sure of.

”You’re doing this for her aren’t you?” Yoongi asked the obvious question to which there was an obvious answer that he could see through. Jeongguk didn’t answer though, he look at the ground as if he didn’t hear it. Yoongi slammed his hand on his back and smiled, 

“Let’s do it.”

[sapphicparker]

Fell from the sky into my lap // peppermay

Summary: "May Parker, will do you the honor of being my fake girlfriend?” She hold out her hand. May smiles.“Yes, I do, Pepper.” May intertwines their hands together. (AKA fake dating/college au)

Words: 21,231 | Other ships: SteveTony & Yelenat

Warnings: SMUT

(Also available on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23921644)

May Parker rarely lies but when she does, let’s just say she’s the mighty, great leader and sole creator of the ‘lying is totally okay and cool’ club. They even have jackets, leather ones to be exact. She doesn’t do it out of habit or force, it just happens and she, eventually, deals with the consequences later. The short list of lies she’s ever told aren’t as catastrophic, most of them range from lying about not doing homework to studying for an important exam, even making up an excuse not to go out. Even telling her boyfriend she was home sick when in reality she was cheating on him. 

Okay, maybe the last one is a bit much, but in her defense, they were already broken up and she definitely didn’t think he would come back a few hours after their final fight to get his boxes of shit while seeing her go down on some girl she met at the bar right after their fight. The biggest lie she has told was to her parents, who she hasn’t seen in a couple months, is that she’s bringing someone home for winter break.

Before the inevitable break-up;

Honestly before the fight, her and Ben were doing great. They met at one of the bars, Carter’s, right down the block by campus. Did their usual routine, two or three beers, depending on what kind of day they had. He would talk about football and courses he was taking, but mostly about football. May honest to god tried to pay attention but that night, her mind was somewhere else. Somewhere else like finding an engagement ring in a drawer. She shuddered at the thought of marriage, not that she liked it, she did, it’s a huge commitment that she was in no way, shape, or form ready for it.

She grabbed her beer and chugged it as Ben began to about classes and bullshit drama that somehow crossed his path during the day. After an hour or two they went back to May’s place, put on Netflix and did some homework.

To this day May still silently thanks god everyday that meeting Ben wasn’t set up by some dating app but instead by one of their mutual friends. She still remembers it like it was yesterday. Carter’s bar is not the most spacious or extravagant looking bar, it still has it’s charm and outside good looks. The inside however smelled like aged old liquor and a weird sense of mildew. Truly comforting in its own weird way.

As for Ben, he’s just like any ordinary tall, brunette, college football player who is somehow not a pretentious douchebag. Him and May were friends at first, good friends even. Ben needed a place to stay for awhile, so she let him room with her. Awhile turned into weeks, which turned into a couple months, and then into him moving into his own place…down the hall from her.

May thought it was nice seeing him every time she had to do laundry or even throw out the trash, sometimes he would get both of their mail so she wouldn’t have to trudge down the flight of stairs to get it. May knew the first time she realized she liked Ben was when he came over for their annual Friday movie night. Usually, she was the one to remind him but, this time he remembered, it was a tiny thing that made her stomach do the weird butterfly thing. He even brought over Chinese food takeout and a cheap bottle of wine.

A couple weeks down the road they kissed and it was nice and exciting and new. They would wait for each other after classes, get some drinks and study together. May would go to his practices and games, cheer him on, even wear his jersey. After games they would get ice cream, it didn’t matter if he won or lost, or if it rained or shined, they would go.

They lasted around eleven months or a year, May honestly doesn’t remember, and it was bad on her part, actually it’s both of their fault. May told Ben she found the ring, he asked her if she wanted to marry him, she said no. May explained to him why she didn’t want to, that she wasn’t looking for that kind of commitment right now and she definitely didn’t want to be tied down. She was still young, she wanted to live more, worry less.

Ben didn’t like that, he got all defensive, arguing back about some bullshit leading him on, so what did May do? She rolled her eyes, told him she’s going out and to pack his shit and leave. Next morning, Ben comes home to get his things and sees May having sex with someone. He quickly shuts the door and never returns. May still has his boxes stacked in the hallway closet, she hasn’t opened the door since.

Flash forward to now. May’s currently very single and lonely at this place and time. She’s wearing an old ACDC shirt that she “borrowed” from Carol and a pair of plaid pajama shorts while sitting on an old maroon couch drinking wine as season six of Great British Bake Off plays in the background. Yeah, that little fling she had with that bar girl, she doesn’t remember her name, it sounded like that coffee company, Folgers. May tilts her head trying to remember the name, it takes her a moment until it comes back to her, like someone flicked on the light switch. She snap her fingers. Felicia, that’s it.

May pours more wine into her glass as she narrows down possible fake boyfriend, or girlfriend options. Separating them into two columns; boys slash girls, and jotting down basically everyone she knows. Boys; Steve, Quentin, and Bruce. Girls; Carol, Jane, and Maria.

She takes sip of her wine before immediately crossing out the lists and throwing the notepad onto the adjacent coffee table. May lets out a heavy sigh and lays her head back on the couch, she feels entirely overwhelmed and more stressed than when she took midterms. It’s at this moment her black cat, Milo, jumps onto the couch and purrs. He rubs his head on her arm and looks up with his black eyes, tilting his head, almost as if he can sense something is wrong. May gently scratches his cheek.

“It’s okay, buddy. Everything is fine,” she say to him as if he can somehow understand and magically talk back to her. He immediately jumps into May’s lap, curling up into a ball. This has to be some kind of witchcraft, she thinks to herself. Not that black cats are often associated with witches, they are, but Milo is special in his own way.

A groan slips out of her mouth when she realizes she has a, now, sleeping cat on her lap and she absolutely refuses to wake him up. That’s the second rule you have to follow when you get a pet, owner shall not move when said pet is sleeping on you. Right on top of feeding your pet and loving them unconditionally.

Mumbling ‘fuck it’ under her breath, May reaches for the tv remote and turns the volume up. In this particular episode of Great British Bake Off, the bakers are making a delicate spongecake. May has never in her life wanted spongecake more than she does right now. Grabbing her phone from the side table, May unlocks it and opens the notes app. Typing, GET SPONGECAKE, in all caps to let her future self know that it’s important to get it when she eventually leaves the comfort of her bed to do grocery shopping tomorrow morning.

She adds in the following; eggs, almond milk, coffee, coffee creamer, peaches, strawberries, mashed potatoes, box of pasta (x2), White bread, plums, chocolate and vanilla ice cream.

Satisfied with her list, she puts the phone down only to pick it up again when it rings. The name ‘Tony’ with the black heart emoji next to it flashes along with a horrible selfie of him. May’s finger slides over the answer and she puts him on speaker, holding the phone in her hand.

“What do you want you, gremlin,” May says annoyingly as she tries to focus on the tv, taking a sip of wine.

“Well, hello to you too, what’s up?”

May rolls her eyes. “You called me, genius.”

Tony lets out a gasp. “Yes, yes I did. My mistake.” He takes a breath before continuing. “Right, what are your plans for winter break?”

“I’m unfortunately going home, remember? Or did you completely forget what we talked about this morning at the coffee shop.”

“I didn’t forget.” May could hear the exaggeration in his voice.

“Yeah, sure you did,” May says as she raises an eyebrow at one of the contestants forming an elaborate cake that might possibly take up all the baking time.

Tony scoffs and May’s sure he’s shaking his head. “Do you or do you not want to come back with me for winter break, instead of going back home?”

“That’s sweet, Tones, but I already told my folks I’m coming back and that I’m bringing someone.” She mumbles the last part, hoping he doesn’t hear it.

“I’m sorry, what was the last part?”

May groans. Damn bastard has ears like a goddamn hawk.

She lets out a sigh, “I told my parents that I was bringing someone home for break. I’m pretty sure they think it’s Ben, they don’t know that we broke up, so they’ll find out when I come home.”

“You really need to stop lying about things, May. I know sometimes you can control it, but in situations like this you really shouldn’t.”

May pinches the bridge of her nose, “if you’re going to lecture me, please wait at least 24 hours before doing so.”

“Fine, at least tell me who you’re bringing?”

She pauses and that seems to be a good enough answer for Tony.

“Are you serious? Winter break is literally in a few days and you don’t know!” Tony exclaims over the phone loudly and May lowers the volume a tad bit.

“I’ll figure it out, I always do,” May confidently says, knowing damn well, she have no clue what to do.

“I don’t believe you but, alright. I’m coming over for lunch tomorrow since Steve’s taking his last midterm, sound good?”

“Fantastic. See you then,” May says before Tony mumbles out a ‘bye, love you’

May casually tosses her phone onto the side table, not really caring whether or not it dies overnight, or mysterious lives thanks to the new and improved battery life span. Eventually she finishes the episode, the credits begin to roll when Milo stirs in her lap. He turns his body facing her, a small meow echos throughout the room along with the Great British Bake Off song credits.

“Did you have a nice nap?” she says softly, rubbing her nose against his fur, he purrs in agreement. “Yeah, I bet you did, buddy.” Shutting Netflix off, May carefully lifts Milo off her lap and cradles him in her arms as she simultaneously grabs her phone.

Once in the bedroom, May puts Milo down on the bed, he immediately curls up at the end of it. Plugging in her phone and setting it down on the bedside table, she grabs the blankets and comforter, shuffles a couple times before finding a comfortable position and falls asleep.

It’s next morning when she hears her phone ringtone blaring throughout her room. May’s eyes are still closed when she reaches over, answering it without a care in the world who could be calling her this early in the morning.

“Hello?” She mumbles, her voice still horse and clouded.

“I’m here with coffee, let me in.” It’s Tony because of course it is.

May lets out a groan, she hangs up, and rubs the sleep out of her eyes. She trudges to the door, unlocking it, and welcomes Tony in. She lets out a yawn as she stares at the brunette man now standing in her kitchen.

“You know, you could be nicer in the morning. I did bring you coffee.” Tony hands her an ice coffee. May takes a sip and a small smile appears on her face. She sticks her tongue out at him before sitting on the couch, one leg under the other.

“Why are you here? I thought we were meeting for lunch, not breakfast,” May calls out to Tony as he’s lazily pouring cat food into Milo’s dish, some of it tumbles out of it and onto the floor, Tony shamelessly kicks it under the fridge. Milo appears in front of him and Tony lets out a gasp, clenching his chest.

“Jesus christ, Milo!”

May lets out a loud laugh and Tony stares at her, completely flabbergasted that she would laugh at his pain. May lets out a breath, “I should’ve warned you, he tends to do that when he gets food.”

“You think!” Tony exclaims as he shakes his head. He kneels down to scratch Milo’s head, the black cat lets out a small meow before digging into his breakfast.

“I’m telling you, he belongs to witches or something.” Tony shakes his head and smiles at Milo before standing back up and grabs his coffee. May looks up at him when he enters the living room, Tony jumps onto the couch and sits crisscross, staring at her.

“What?” She asks questionably.

“Did you think about who you’re bringing home yet? You still have time to change your mind and come back with me.”

May immediately lets out a groan, she hoped Tony would have forgot it by now but, no. He can remember what they talked about yesterday but he can’t remember his goddamn anniversary.

“Not yet,” May pauses to take drink the rest of her coffee, occasionally slurping it, causing an annoying sound to echo in the room. Tony rolls his eyes at her childlike behavior. “And, no to coming with you. As much as I love Jarvis’ cooking, I promised I would go home for break.”

Tony nods his head. “I’ll bring you leftovers but you might not get it with how much Steve eats.” May chuckles.

“That’s alright, i’ll take my chances. I just need to find someone who will actually go along with it.” A sigh escapes May’s lips.

Tony thinks for a moment and snaps his fingers, breaking May’s train of thought, not that she was thinking about anything in the moment anyway.

“What?” She asks.

“I think I know someone, wait do you want male or female?”

May stares at him, one of her scary death stares that Tony hates. He immediately puts his hands up. “Alright, jeez. Just stop looking at me like that. God, you’re worse than Milo.”

It’s nighttime and May is sitting uncomfortably in a fancy restaurant, she checks her watch again for the third time that night. Her date, who Tony set her up with, was fifty minutes late and she felt awful for the poor waitress who kept coming up to her asking for her order. May sighs as she drinks the remaining wine in her glass, she gestures towards the waitress for another bottle, dear god she’s going to need it. The waitress, Pepper is her name, leaves the bottle on the table.

“Are you sure I can’t get you anything else? I’m sure bread and wine isn’t the most suitable meal.”

May reads the menu again. “You’re right. You know what? I think I’ll have the ravioli.”

“Excellent choice, I’ll bring that out for you shortly.” Pepper smiles.

May bites the inside of her cheek. “Please take your time, it’s not like I’m waiting for anyone else.” She gestures towards the empty seat in front of her.

Pepper’s lips curl up into her mouth, she looks around the restaurant before leaning down to May’s height, “I’ll throw in a free desert, just for you.”

The glass of wine stills in May’s hand, the red liquid swooshes around in it. She turns to look at Pepper, her tongue poking out to wet her lips. “Why, thank you.”

Pepper walks away towards the kitchen and May can’t help but stare at her as she does. Her line of sight is interrupted by her phone ringing. Without even reading the I.D, May already knows who it is.

“Hi Tony,” she grumbles into the phone.

“Hi darling, so tell me everything, how is he? Great?”

May’s jaw clenches, she doesn’t want to cause a scene in this very nice restaurant. “Well, darling,” she imitates Tony’s tone, “it’s been an hour and I’m sitting here alone in this fucking expensive ass place.”

“What?”

“You heard me, Stark.”

“But I- I don’t understand. He was actually excited for it, I don’t know why,” Tony rambles on and May isn’t listening to a word he’s saying because her eyes are flowing over to Pepper talking to customers.

“May? You still there?”

She lets out a cough, “yeah, I’m still here. I’m getting dinner for one.”

“Oh, okay, I was just gonna come to you but if you’re good,” Tony’s voice trails off as May stares at Pepper who’s carrying a tray of food over one shoulder and placing it down onto the serving table. She bends down to grab extra napkins and forks and May can’t help but advert her eyes down to Pepper’s body. Tight black jeans do wonders for everyone.

“Parker!” Tony yells out. May does a double-take and blinks repeatedly. “Jesus christ, what the hell! I’ve been talking for two minutes without an interruption.”

“Sorry, I got distracted,” May says as her face becomes flushed.

“Distracted from?” Tony coerces out.

“There’s a really cute waitress who’s working tonight,” May whispers into the phone and Tony reacts how anyone would, by letting out an excited scream.

“No way! Steve! May’s crushing on the waitress,” Tony says excitedly. In the background May can hear Steve say ‘are you serious, Tony hang up! Let her get back to the date.’ Tony shushes him.

“Goodbye, Tony,” May hangs up the phone as Tony yells excuses to not hang up.

May’s putting her phone back into her bag when Pepper is walking towards her with dinner. She places it in front of her. May takes a breath. “This looks great, thank you.” A genuine smile flashes across her face.

“Enjoy, I’ll just be over here if you need anything.” Pepper smiles and nods her head in the direction where she’ll be. She begins to walk away when May grabs her forearm, stopping in her step.

“Please, sit,” May gestures towards the empty seat in front of her. Pepper looks around the restaurant, it’s late and nearly empty with a few stragglers and the clean up crew’s about to start coming in. Pepper immediately sits down and loosens her tie, pulling it down a few inches before unbuttoning her collar.

May digs into her ravioli, it tastes so delicate and warm, and the sauce is great, a mix of red and vodka sauce. It might be one of May’s new favorite dishes. “So do you like being a waitress?”

Pepper chuckles, “Is this how you always begin conversations?” She grabs a water pitcher from a nearby empty table and fills up a glass, nearly downs the whole glass and lets out a breath. May smiles before taking another bite. “Not always but I thought I would give it a shot.”

A small smirk appears on Pepper’s face, “I just need this job to help pay for college. It’s only a couple days a week so it’s not all bad.” May hums in agreement and takes a sip of wine.

“Can I be honest for a second.” May nods her head. “Who the fuck stood you up tonight?” May lets out a loud cackle. She covers her mouth with her hand to subdue her laughter. Pepper stares at her, for the first time that night she actually really looks at her. She notices how May gets crinkles in the corner of her eyes when she laughs really loud. She notices her dimples rise up when she grins a certain way. She notices how her brown eyes look lighter, more warmer in the light. She notices how her cheeks get more flushed, a light shade of pink. And lastly, Pepper notices how her heart is beating like a drum in her chest and how her palms are suddenly clammy, and how she wants May to feel like this every day of the week.

Once May has calmed down, she wipes an invisible tear from her eye and drinks the remaining wine in her glass. “Thank you, I needed a good laugh.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll let you finish your meal and I’ll bring dessert out,” Pepper says as she stands up from the table.

“Hopefully for two?”

“Absolutely,” Pepper walks away towards the remaining stragglers, talking to them. May sighs contently, she suddenly feels very warm and a tad nauseous.

Ten minutes pass by and May eats half of her ravioli dish. She leans back in her chair, deciding she’s definitely bringing leftovers home. Pepper exits the kitchen carrying a plate of dessert. Once in front of May, she places it on the table. “Chocolate mousse cake with vanilla ice cream on top.”

May licks her lips. “Looks great, shall we?”

“We shall,” Pepper hands May a spoon and they dig in. It’s so rich and creamy and delicious. Once dessert is devoured by the two of them, Pepper grabs a take-out container and puts May’s leftovers in it, sealing it in a brown paper bag. May hands Pepper her card for the check, after a brief moment she comes back with it.

“Thank you. I hope the rest of your night is lovely.”

May smiles, “Yours too.” She pauses for a second, her breath catches in her throat. “When do you get off work?”

Pepper stares at her, mouth agape, and she looks at her watch. “My shift ended ten minutes ago.” She chuckles awkwardly, hoping to ease the sudden tension.

May has her coat on, her bag slung over her shoulder and leftovers in hand. She turns to look at Pepper, “You wanna get out of here?”

Pepper nods her head, “yes, yes. Let me get my things.”

May watches Pepper run off to get her things, as she does, she quickly texts Tony. No, she texts Steve because he’s more likely to read it. She texts him; ‘I know Tony won’t respond so I’m telling you to tell him to not come over in the morning for breakfast.’ Seconds later Steve replies, ‘will do’ with the thumbs up emoji, followed by, ‘late night? And wink emoji.’ May responses back with the middle finger emoji and once she does Pepper is at her side. She puts her phone in her bag and they’re out the door.

The minute they’re back in May’s apartment, May has Pepper pressed against the door. They shuffle their jackets off, their bags land on the hardwood floor with a thud. Peppers arms are around May’s waist, pulling her closer. She presses her soft lips onto May’s, they move in sync, letting out breathy moans before Pepper slides her tongue into May’s mouth, deepening the kiss. May grabs Pepper by her neck, pulling her closer until the silky fabric of May’s dress rubs against her now, slightly unbuttoned shirt. Pepper shivers at the touch of it, small goosebumps rise on her exposed skin. They pull away for a second, both chests heaving and feeling hot.

“Bedroom?”

“Definitely.”

It’s early in the morning when May wakes up, she turns her head to look at the alarm clock, instantly rolling her eyes when she sees that it reads exactly eight a.m. She wipes the sleep out of her eyes before rubbing her bare shoulders and reaches down to the floor, grabbing a white t-shirt and throws it over her naked torso. It’s not perfect, there’s a small coffee stain on it, but she doesn’t care because Pepper is still in bed.

May carefully reaches over to move a blonde strand out Pepper’s eyes before placing a kiss on her forehead and quietly gets up to make some coffee and breakfast. She hears the pitter-patter of Milo behind her as she enters the kitchen. As the coffee machine powers up, May gives Milo his breakfast, he lets out a soft meow as if he’s saying thank you. May ponders for a moment deciding on what to make for breakfast, she opens the fridge to see it almost bare and empty. She lets out a groan when realizing she got held up with Tony and forgot to go grocery shopping. She settles on making French toast, making a couple slices and topping it with powered sugar and syrup. The coffee machine lets out a beep and she pours the dark, warm liquid into two mugs, adding two spoonfuls of sugar and an insane amount of coffee creamer. May lets out a content sigh when she takes a sip, it’s perfect.

Pepper wakes up as sunlight shines through the window, her skin feels warm and soft and golden. She reaches over to check the time on her phone, it reads eight-thirty along with text messages from a group chat. She stretches a hand out to feel a cold spot, her bottom lip pokes out. She wanted to wrap her arms around May and thank her for making her feel like she escalated to another world, for feeling like she saw the moon and stars and everything beyond.

Pepper grabs a discarded hoodie that was on a nearby chair and throws it over her, lifting up her blonde locks that got stuck under the neck hole. The smell of French toast leads her to the kitchen, where she quietly watched May sit on the counter sipping her coffee while watching tv. May looks up from her coffee and sees Pepper, her eyes light up.

“Morning! I made breakfast and coffee.”

Pepper swears she could stay here forever, she could get use to this. May hands her the other coffee mug and Pepper doesn’t miss the cute look on May’s face when she takes a sip of her black coffee.

“I’m not even going to ask about that,” May’s eyes advert towards the mug in Pepper’s hand. Pepper nods her head. “Good, cause that’ll be up for debate later or another day.” She takes another sip of coffee.

“I forgot to go grocery shopping so I made French toast.”

Pepper smiles. “It smells wonderful. I haven’t had French toast in forever.” She cuts a piece off, dips it in syrup, and takes a bite. She gives May a thumbs up as continues to devour the breakfast food. May finished her remaining piece of French toast a few minutes before Pepper came into the kitchen, she sits quietly drinking her coffee as Pepper eats. May smirks to herself, god knows she worked up an appetite last night.

Once Pepper is done eating, she looks up at May, silently hating that she has the height advantage now that she’s on the counter. She places her hands on May’s thighs. “You have a little,” May begins before licking her thumb and wiping off some powder sugar at the corner of Pepper’s lip, “there. All good.”

“God, you’re so cute,” Pepper breathes out before kissing May. Her hands slide up her torso towards May’s face where she cups her cheeks, her thumbs comfortably resting on her cheekbones as she gently caresses her soft skin. May smiles into the kiss, she feels lightweight, like she’s floating on a cloud. It’s soft when Pepper kisses May, she grabs Pepper’s waist pulling her in between her thighs. She holds onto her waist as she wraps her legs around Pepper's.

Pepper’s tongue darts into May’s mouth as she lets out a low moan, a hint of heat radiating off both of them. Pepper pulls away for a moment, a pout immediately forms on May’s face. Pepper chuckles as she takes off the hoodie, she’s bare underneath except for her underwear and May bites her lip. Pepper lets out a gasp when May’s cold hands touch her, the hair on her arms stick up slightly as she moves her hands towards Pepper’s neck. Her hands remain still on Pepper’s chin, “if you’re cold, I can warm you up in no time.” May pulls Pepper into a kiss and they return to their former position. May’s about to take off her shirt when there’s a knock at the door.

“Who the fuck is that?” May growls as she jumps off the counter and darts towards the door. The door is open in a flash and May is annoyed at the sight in front of her. Of course, it's Tony, with a smile on his face while Steve is daunting an ‘i’m sorry’ look. May is looking at them both with an expression that could make a child cry.

“Go away,” she practically yells at them.

Steve sighs, “I’m sorry, you know how he gets. I tried my best to make him stay home.”

May rests a hand on her hip. “Yeah, that worked out pretty well, huh Steve. Did you not try sex?”

Tony perks up at the mention of sex, “Oh, you bet he did.” He mouths the word ‘twice’ and holds up two fingers, Steve rolls his eyes. May shakes her head knowing there’s no way they’re not just going to stand in the hallway all day, she moves out of the way to let the boys in.

“Put the hoodie back on, we’ve got company,” May says annoyingly as she makes her way back into the kitchen. She begins to put the dishes into the sink when Tony lets out a shriek, almost making May drop a mug.

“Shut up, Pepper!”

“Hi Tony.”

Tony does a double-take, looking at May then Pepper, then May again before letting out a gasp. “Oh my god.”

Steve gently pushes Tony into a seat on the couch, letting him absorb everything his genius brain can handle, before helping May in the kitchen. He’s handing her various plates and forks around the kitchen, eventually getting distracted by Milo who was now sitting on the counter, meowing at Steve to pet him. He happily obliges, a smile plastered across his face as he does.

“Okay! I’m good,” Tony yells as he claps his hands together.

Pepper shakes her head, she looks over his shoulder to see May making another pot of coffee. It only takes a few seconds before May is looking back at Pepper, she mouths an ‘i’m sorry’ with a pouty look. Pepper shrugs before mouthing back, ‘it’s okay’ and blows a kiss. May blushes.

“So how did you two meet?” Tony says as he rests his arm on the couch, leaning closer to Pepper. May is in the living room now, changing the tv channel on the remote to a Will & Grace marathon. She falls into Pepper’s lap, earning a giggle from the blonde and blocks Tony’s view of her. Steve carefully drops Milo into Tony’s lap, he stares at the black cat, still not over yesterday’s incident of scaring him to death. Milo looks at him before jumping down and walking over to Steve, who sat in the corner loveseat. Milo jumps into his lap and comfortably lays down.

Steve smiled, his dimples coming into play as Tony shared a look of jealousy at him. He let out a scoff before bringing his attention back to May and Pepper. Tony let out a cough. “Can I get an answer or is this going to be a bigger mystery than finding out if an actress is gay or not?”

May scoffs, “First of all, we always find out. Second, we met last night at the restaurant. Remember, your guy didn’t show up? Pepper was the waitress.” Tony’s face lit up like a little kid on Christmas. Pepper chuckled as she shook her head. God, Tony was one of a kind, there was certainly no one in the world like him.

“How did it go?” Tony asks as he sits in a criss-cross position, hands clasped together with his chin resting in them. A literal child.

“It was going well until you showed up,” May blurts out as Pepper shushed her. May sighs. “It’s very good.” Pepper rubs her arm up and down May’s in a comforting manner, already feeling how tense and annoyed she is. Something she’ll definitely have to get used too.

Steve snaps his fingers causing everyone to look at him, including Milo who raised a paw at him. “Why don’t you ask Pepper to come home with you for winter break? You said you were bringing someone. Well, here you go.” May looks at Steve with an expression he can’t read, nor understand. She side eyes Pepper, she was definitely not in the position to ask Pepper to come home with her to meet her family. They just met last night and May was in no way ready for her to get caught up in her bullshit, she wanted Pepper to be hers and only hers. She didn’t want her to be a victim to the chaos her family causes, May just wanted to stay in the little happy bubble with her. But eventually the bubble pops and you have to make a new one, oh, what the hell could go wrong.

“What’s he talking about?” Pepper asks, a wave of concern flashes across her faces. May sighs.

“I wasn’t even going to bring it up, Steven,” May angrily says as she looks at Steve, his face is filled with regret the moment May says his full name. He immediately looks down at Milo, petting him softly as he licks Steve’s hand.

“I told my parents I was bringing someone home for winter break, so I told Tony I just need to find someone to fake date until it’s over, it’s only for two days. I was planning on cutting the reunion special early anyway.” Pepper nods her head, taking everything in.

“Okay,” Pepper says.

May raises an eyebrow, “okay what?”

“I’ll do it, I’ll come with you. I’m not doing anything for break. My parents are going to some ski resort upstate. Plus, I’m an only child.”

May hesitates for a moment, her mouth agape. For once, she’s utterly speechless. Her mouth curls up into her mouth, “you know what? Fuck it. Yes.”

Pepper grins, “Let’s make it official. May Parker, will do you the honor of being my fake girlfriend?” She hold out her hand. May smiles.

“Yes, I do, Pepper.” May intertwines their hands together. They stare at one another and Pepper looks at May like she holds all the secrets to the universe and wants to discover all of them, including the hidden ones. It’s no secret May’s a tad bit scared of commitment, but she’s looking at Pepper as if all the stars and moon combined into one single element. It’s barely been twenty-four hours and she knows she wants Pepper in her life.

It’s the day before they head to May’s family home and May is immediately regretting even going. She hasn’t packed yet, and she can’t bring Milo with them because her dad is severely allergic to cats. May rolls her eyes for the third time, Pepper has counted so far, sitting across the island table as May talks to her mother on the phone. May put her on speakerphone so Pepper could hear what the devil incarnated sounds like before meeting her in person.

May mouths ‘blah, blah, blah’ as her mother goes on and on about her cousin getting remarried again. She imitates Darth Vader using the force to choke herself until her mother calls her name.

“May”

“Yeah?”

“Are you listening to me or are you drowning me out by staring at the tv screen?”

May lets out a cough, “no, i’m totally listening. You were talking about Natasha getting remarried.”

“Yes! I can’t believe she’s already getting remarried after divorcing Matthew last year!” May’s mother exclaims. May could hear the annoyance through the phone.

“Well, some people move on fast and I think this is good for Nat, you know how she can be,” May says genuinely, she always defends Natasha.

“I just don’t understand,” her mother trails off and May looks at Pepper. She’s caressing Milo as he’s lies down on the counter, his eyes are closed and purring softly.

“Your dad said you’re bringing someone with you? Is it Ben? I’ve missed him, how is he?” And just like that, May’s entire demeanor is changed, Pepper immediately stops petting Milo to look at May.

“Oh, um, yeah i’m bringing someone but it’s not Ben. We broke up,” May says carefully, almost like she’s stepping on eggshells, one wrong move and it’ll break.

“Oh no, what happened? He was so sweet, May.”

May ran a hand through her brown locks, she pulled on the ends. “I don’t really remember, mom. Listen, I gotta go, I have to start packing.”

“Okay, sweetie. Remember to bring sweaters! It’s cold here!” May hangs up and lets out a heavy sigh as she crosses her arms on the counter, resting her head in them. Pepper is behind her, rubbing her shoulders in a comforting manner, she places a kiss to her hair. “It’s gonna be okay, I promise.”

May lifts her head up and turns to face Pepper, she blows a raspberry. “You really think so? I mean, what you heard was only the beginning of it. We don’t even have to go, we can just stay here or even go to Tony’s.”

Pepper shakes her head, “there’s no way you can get out of this, you promised and you’re going to fulfill it.”

May lets out a groan and crosses her arms over her chest, “fine but you’re helping me pack.” She grabs Pepper’s arm and drags her to the bedroom.

“I wouldn’t want to be doing anything else.”

They haven’t gotten on the plane yet and May is already dreading this. She hasn’t even had her coffee yet, and it was definitely killing her mood. Steve, the ever so sweetheart, drove the two of them to the airport at the ass crack of dawn. He was already out on his morning run before picking them up and was in the most perky, happiest, mood ever. In the car ride to the airport, Steve was telling them that he let Tony sleep in, knowing how much of a little shit he’s going to be when Steve eventually wakes him up to get on the road to his parents house later in the day.

May’s knee bounced up and down as she waited for their flight to be called, she was getting impatient as she laid her head back on the chair, eyes closed. A sudden cough made May open her eyes, she looked up and saw Pepper standing in front of her, holding two hot cups of coffee. May perked up, her eyes widened. Pepper outstretched May’s cup, their hands touched briefly when May grabbed it. She took a sip and let out a heavenly sigh. Pepper smiled at her as she took a sip of her own, sitting down next to her.

“When do you think our flight will be-”

“Flight 702 to New Hampshire is now boarding,” the announcer yells in a horrible, yet mildly disgusted, tone.

“Never mind,” Pepper chuckles as both of them stand and grab their carry ons . On the plane, they have a row to their selves, Pepper gives May the window seat. It’s a short flight and May falls asleep the entire time, her head resting on Pepper’s shoulder. Pepper doesn’t sleep, she’s too busy reading the book she brought with her and making sure May’s okay. She doesn’t tell May that two people told her they were a cute couple, Pepper smiled and thanked them for their kind words.

May wakes up when the plane touches down on the runway, she looks out the window to see that it’s snowing, she lets out an inaudible groan and turns to see Pepper talking to the flight attendant about the weather. Their conversation ends when she announces they can start exiting the plane.

“Did I sleep the whole flight? I’m sorry.”

Pepper pushes a strand of May’s hair behind her ear, “It’s okay, you were tired. Everyone heard you snoring.” May gasps, “I don’t snore!” Pepper lets out a chuckle as she grabs her bags in one hand and May’s in the other. May smiles.

Natasha is waiting outside the airport for them and May’s entire mood is lightened. She pulls May into a hug and ushers them into her car, instantly cranking the heat up before turning to Pepper, in the backseat. She holds her hand out, “i’m Natasha, May’s favorite cousin.” Pepper shakes her hand. “Very nice to meet you, Natasha.” Natasha smiles and pulls out of her spot and starts driving to their destination, the radio is playing soft music on low.

“Mom told me you’re getting remarried?” May questions once their silence got enough. Natasha smiles and holds out her left hand, the diamond on her finger isn’t big, it’s small, wrapped around a silver band, and it’s just perfect for her. “It’s so simple, I love it,” May says happily as she watches Natasha take another look at it before using said hand to turn on the blinker, making a right turn.

“Do I even want to know who gave it to you?” May says curiously.

A hint of blush appears on Natasha’s face, she clears her throat, “guess.”

May lets out a heavy sigh, “are you kidding me? I haven’t seen you in so long and you’re making me guess! Can you believe this Pep?” May turns in her seat to look at Pepper who pauses for a second, “Is it a woman?”

Natasha doesn’t say anything which essentially means yes, and May lets out a gasp. She repeatedly claps her hands in excitement, “Oh my god yes!” Natasha grins.

“How did you know?” Natasha asks into the rearview mirror, her undivided attention on Pepper. Pepper smiles and she leans forward, resting her arms on her knees. “You look happier, and the ring is simple, yet elegant. It’s not drawing a lot of attention, it’s just right. Plus, you should have cleaned out your car before picking us up because there’s a lace bra back here.”

May laughs loudly as Natasha mumbles ‘fuck’ under her breath. She puts the car into park once they pull into a driveway. May lets out out a deep breath. “Do mom and dad know?

Natasha shakes her head, “not yet. She’s coming over soon. I can’t wait for you to meet her May. You too, Pepper. You’re gonna love her.” May smiles. In all her years she’s known Natasha, she’s never once been this excited for May to meet someone. She’s met her former husband, Matthew, but only on rare occasions. Natasha was never a very open person with her relationship, so this was all new to May, and she likes it. She likes it when Natasha is openly accepting and vulnerable, showing her true colors to people she loves dearly. May can see it in her eyes, the way she talks about her fiancée is so soft and unique, you can see how in love she is. May reaches over the cupholders to pull Natasha into a hug, she instinctively wraps her arms around the smaller woman, burying her head into her shoulder.

“You know I love you,” May mumbles. Natasha smiles into her shoulder, slowly swaying her back and forth. “Of course I do, you dork.” Natasha releases May from her embrace and they exit the car. The snow is coming down hard as they stand outside the front door of May’s parents house. May exhales a shaky breath as Pepper grabs her hand and rubs her knuckles softly.

“You know, we can just run back to the car and get a hotel?”

Natasha gives her a look, “you know we can’t do that. Stop trying to run away.” She opens the front door and the three of them are instantly greeted by warm air and the sound of voices echoing throughout the house. May immediately leads Pepper up the stairs to her former room, the loft a.k.a the attic. Once in the room, May shuts the door, locking it before letting out a breath. Pepper looks around the room, curiosity getting to the best of her as she takes everything in, admiring all of May’s little nicknacks and decor.

“This is where the magic happens,” May says as she slides a hand over her comforter, a sly smirk flashes across her face. Pepper chuckles as she shrugs off her carryon bag, placing it onto the couch in front of the bay window. May’s room is very cozy and simple, Pepper’s eye is immediately drawn to the huge bookcase adjacent to the queen size bed, the books on the shelves are old and new, and of course they’re in alphabetical order. She drags her fingers across the books.

“It took me awhile to finally complete it and a lot of money at thrift bookstores,” May chuckles as Pepper smiles, still taking her time to look at the books, “it’s very impressive.”

There’s a knock at the door and May lets out a groan, she trudges to the door, opening it to reveal Natasha standing next to a petite blonde woman who looks nervous. They don’t bother asking to enter because Natasha grabs the woman and pulls her into the room, taking a seat on the couch. May stares at the empty hallway, flabbergasted, she shuts the door.

“A simple hi would’ve done but okay, what’s up?” May rests her hands on her hips. She gives Pepper, who leans back on the book shelves, a confused look. Natasha grabs the woman’s hand, intertwining them together, her thumb rubs her knuckles. “This is my fiancée, Yelena.”

May lets out a gasp, her mouth agape. She runs over to the two of them and hugs them tightly, Natasha has to pry her arms off of them. May awkwardly chuckles. “Hi Yelena, i’m May. Natasha’s favorite cousin.” She extends an arm out to the blonde. Natasha rolls her eyes, “you’re my only cousin, idiot.”

Yelena shakes May’s hand, “it’s very nice to meet you, May. Nat has told me a lot about you.” May lets out a squeak, “you let her call you Nat! That’s so cute! No one in the family is allowed to call her that.”

“It’s true,” Natasha says as she shrugs her shoulders. She pulls Yelena in closer, making her comfortable as she lays back on Natasha’s chest, pressing a kiss to her hair. May grins, she extends a hand out to Pepper, pulling her to the bed. They lay back against the many pillows on the bed.

“This is Pepper, my girlfriend,” May says to Yelena, they both wave to one another. Natasha gives May a look, like she trying to figure something out but, May shrugs it off.

“Your mom’s looking for you,” Natasha says when she’s putting Yelena’s hair into a French braid. Yelena smiles at her through the mirror next to them. May lets out an incoherent groan and drops her head back on the headboard, banging it slightly. “Did you see her?” May looks at Natasha.

“Yep,” Natasha says as a small chuckle escapes her lips. Yelena turns to look at Natasha, “tell her, please.” A smile is across her face in a flash. May immediately sits upright, “tell me what?” She’s curious, along with Pepper who imitates her.

“Melina had already met Yelena a couple days ago, and she’s really happy so I thought it would be the same with your mom so,” Natasha is interrupted by May letting out yet, another groan, “let me finish telling the story you little shit.” A pout forms across May’s face. Pepper kisses her cheek, and the pout disappears.

“So I introduce Yelena to your mom and she said,” Natasha laughs, along with Yelena. She takes a breath to get regain her composure, “she said it’s so nice of you to bring your gal pal with you, the matching rings are adorable!” May cackles loudly to the point where she’s clenching her stomach and repeatedly hitting Pepper, who’s covering her mouth with her hand to subdue her laughter.

“Shut the fuck up! You’re lying!” She blurts out as she takes a deep breath.

“I swear to god May, Yelena can vouch for me,” Natasha gestures towards Yelena who nods her head and wipes a tear from her eye.

“I told you it would be a nightmare,” May whispers to Pepper, turning to look at her. Pepper tucks a strand of brown hair behind May’s ear as she looks into May’s eyes. Pepper can tell she’s nervous and scared to show it, “you did. Many, many, times but i’m here, so it’ll be okay and if not then there’s always a hotel.” May leans into her and Pepper places a soft kiss onto her forehead, May smiles.

After an hour of catching up, Natasha and Yelena retreat to their room, they already had dinner and May felt bad for keeping Pepper all cooped up in her room. It’s after eight pm when they ascend down to the kitchen, May heats up whatever leftovers the family had for dinner as Pepper grabs two sodas from the fridge. A light flickers on and they freeze in place. “If you were hungry you could’ve just came down for dinner like everyone else, May.”

May curses under her breath, “hi, mom.” A fake smile flashes across her face and Pepper knows this because May’s real, genuine, smile causing those cute dimples that she loves so much. “And you must be Pepper, hi i’m Claire Parker. It’s so nice to meet one of May’s friends other than that Stark boy.”

Pepper shakes her hand, “yeah, Tony can be a bit of a handful.”

May takes out their leftovers from the microwave when it beeps, grabs two forks and walks past her mother, “actually, Pepper and I are together, you know like Natasha and Yelena, except without the rings.” An expression flashes across Claire’s face that neither Pepper nor May can read.

“Oh, okay. You gals have fun. I’m just going to make some tea,” Claire says as she turns on the stove, boiling water in the teapot. May lets out a deep breath, she clenches her fist in her free hand not holding the takeout and forks. “I don’t know what century you’re in but, no one says gal pals anymore, and it’s quite an out of date term and i’m not sure you think you’re saying it correctly.”

Claire gives May a confused expression, “of course, I am. You’re girlfriends.”

Pepper now understands why May didn’t want to come home, she’s also feeling a tad bit uncomfortable as the tension in the room has reached a higher level. May is resisting the urge to slap herself across the face, how was she related to this person.

“No, mom, I-“ May pauses. She mumbles ‘fuck it’ under her breath and licks her lips. “Pepper and I are together as in we kiss and have sex and go on dates like everyone else. The same way as you and dad do. The same why Natasha and Yelena do, it’s normal.”

Claire’s face is as white as a ghost and she doesn’t say anything for a solid minute which means it’s a good time to run upstairs and eat, and they do exactly that. May and Pepper climb the insane amount of stairs back to May’s room, sit on the couch by the window and eat as they look out the window at the stars. It’s silent for a moment, they’re eating as May’s record player is quietly blasting a spice girls record.

“I can’t believe you did that,” Pepper says once the silence got enough for her, she looks up from her container of food to see May smiling. “I didn’t think I would do it but it just got so frustrating. We can leave tomorrow if you want, i’m sure I can get Natasha and Yelena on board.”

“Don’t you have family staying over the weekend?” Pepper questions as she snatches an egg roll out of May’s takeout dish. May gasps and shrugs it off, it’s only food.

“Yeah, I haven’t seen most of them since last break, but i’d rather just spend it with Natasha and you.”

Pepper looks up at May after taking a bite of her egg roll, “I’m in, whatever it is you want to do.” May cheeks turn a light shade of pink and she smiles. She smiles the real, genuine one, cute dimples and all, that makes Pepper’s heart beat fast in her chest, it echos in her ears.

“Thank you. I appreciate it,” May puts her now empty container onto the coffee table, she sits in a criss cross position and leans forward towards Pepper. “Tell me something about you. I want to know everything.”

Pepper tilted her head, pausing for a moment to think, “I wanted to be a vet when I was younger. I loved animals, still do, so much until I realized going to school for almost seven years seemed too excessive.” May smiled at the thought of Pepper being a vet, helping animals, making sure they’re happy and healthy.

“That’s cute. I always knew I wanted to do something with my love of books, whether I decide to become a writer or open up my own bookstore, it’s where I truly feel like myself, when I’m surrounded by books and of course, Milo.”

Pepper rests her chin in her hand, she looks at May as she talks about her love for books and writing and what she could do. She notices that May talks with her hands a lot, they’re constantly moving in different directions when she speaks, making her point across. Pepper also notices there’s a tiny twinkle in her eyes when she talks about anything she loves and Pepper decides right then and there that she has moved from the like stage of their relationship to love, and it was going to be difficult.

May lets out a yawn, breaking Pepper’s train of thought. She gets up from her seat, shuts the record player off and grabs a pair of pajamas from the wardrobe. She changes into them, not caring if Pepper sees, they already had sex. May lazily braids her hair as Pepper changes into her own pajamas.

Pepper’s flannel pajama set is far more gracious looking than May’s old Beatles shirt and some boxers. They throw out the empty containers, shut the lights off, and are immersed in the softness of the sheets and comforter. May turns on her side, she pulls the comforter up to her chest, and faces Pepper. The blonde imitates her, they stare at each other as the moonlight shines through the window onto their face. May’s tongue pokes out, wetting her lips, before whispering, “Did you know that the moon is a lesbian?”

Pepper covers her mouth with her hand as she laughs. She takes a brief pause to collect her breath. “Are you serious, who told you?”

May raises her eyebrows, “Um, everyone knows. The moon and the sun are lesbians, they’re together.” Pepper nods her head, “yes, what was I thinking? They definitely are.” She didn’t know much about the moon and sun, even the stars, but what she did know was that May was very enthusiastic about the moon being a lesbian and Pepper didn’t have the heart to tell her what she thought of it.

“It’s just a theory, I’ll let you sleep on it.” May says before giving Pepper a sweet, soft, kiss and turning the other way to get some sleep. Pepper freezes, she didn’t expect that at all. She mumbles out, “Night, May.”

The bedroom door barges open, it smacks against the wall. May instinctively sits upright in bed, her hair is disheveled and eyes are still closed, and Pepper is still soundly sleeping.

“What,” May mumbles out, eyes still closed, her voice is hoarse.

“Breakfast is ready,” Natasha says as she leans her back on the doorway frame “I’m not leaving until you get up.”

May lets out a groan, she runs a hand through her hair and gets up quietly from the bed without waking Pepper. She takes one last look at the sleeping blonde and follows Natasha down the stairs. It’s suspiciously quiet for a Saturday morning in the Parker household, besides the tv in the next room playing the news on blast, it made May feel a little on edge. She rubs the sleep out of her eyes as Natasha immediately grabs the already made coffee pot and sits in the empty chair next to Yelena.

Natasha hands May a mug, she pours the steaming dark goodness into it, adding a touch of creamer and sugar before taking a sip and letting out a content sigh. There’s a variety of breakfast foods scattered along the island table. Eggs, pancakes, bacon, and toast. Even some boxes of cereal and bowls of fruit.

May rolled her eyes, her parents always go all out when they get together and there was only eight of them currently in the house. Three of said eight were currently sleeping. Claire hasn’t even acknowledged May’s presence yet, occasionally sipping her coffee and looking over at the newspaper her dad was currently reading. May let out a huff and piled some of everything onto a platter, she grabbed a glass from the cabinet, filled it with orange juice and set it onto the tray. She lifted it up and began to walk back upstairs to her bedroom.

“Where are you going?” Claire called out. May bit the inside of her cheek.

“Upstairs. Pepper’s still sleeping, so I thought I would surprise her with breakfast in bed or is it mandatory to eat in the kitchen now?”

“That’s very sweet, kiddo,” May’s dad, Ed, said as he licked his finger and turned a page in the paper. A half smile appeared on May’s face, she ascended up the stairs when no one objected, though May knew as soon as her back was turned her mother had a stern look on her face.

Natasha and Yelena sat quietly watching May walk up the stairs. Yelena gave Nat a look, almost asking if we should follow but Natasha shakes her head. She broke off a piece of pancake, dipped it in syrup and took a bite. Yelena craned her neck to look at May’s mother, she felt a sense of uneasiness but discarded it when Natasha threw a berry at her.

“Why?” Yelena asked when Natasha threw a second berry.

“Because I wanted too,” Natasha argued back, instead of throwing another fruit, she popped it into her mouth. Yelena stared at her, her nose scrunching up.

“If you keep doing that i’m going to kiss you,” Natasha said as she scooted closer to Yelena, her arm rested on the back of Yelena’s chair. Yelena moved closer, she reached over to wrap an arm around Natasha but moved it at the last second to grab a strawberry off her plate. Natasha let out a small fake gasp before smiling, she knew what Yelena was going to do before she even did it. It was a little thing that Yelena loved, like Natasha was part witch or something, she had a sixth sense.

“No PDA in the kitchen please,” Ed said without even looking up from his newspaper as he did the crossword of the day. Natasha rolled her eyes, “we weren’t doing anything, uncle Ed.”

“Oh, I know, but who knows what happens after the kitchen gets covered in fruit, I definitely don’t.” Natasha let out a chuckle. She cups Yelena’s face with her hand and gives her an eskimo kiss, Yelena lets out a giggle.

May shuts the door quietly behind her as she places the tray of food onto the table. She walks over to Pepper’s side of the bed and places a kiss on her forehead, Pepper stirs and mumbles, “Why are you giving me kisses, no one’s around.” May chuckles, “that makes it even better.”

“I brought up breakfast since you wanted to sleep a little late.” May leaves Pepper’s side to bring the tray over onto the bed, Pepper is immediately woken up by the warm, delicious smells of food. Her stomach rubbles. “First of all,” she lets out a yawn. “You didn’t wake me up so don’t blame it on me, sweet cheeks.”

Pepper ties her messy bed hair into a ponytail as she sips her orange juice and cuts into her pancake. It’s covered in syrup and completely lathered in butter, just the way she likes it.

“What are we doing today?’ Pepper asks after she takes a bite. She pops a pre-cut strawberry into her mouth.

May takes a sip of her coffee. “I’m not sure, maybe we’ll go to a museum or just hang out.” Pepper nods her head. They sit in silence as Pepper eats her breakfast. Occasionally May will steal some fruit out of the bowl, earning a glare from the blonde. Pepper lets out a huff as she sits back, she’s content and in a slight food coma, it’s good though. May stares at her and raises an eyebrow in her direction before standing up, taking two long strides to the dresser and grabbing an outfit for the day.

“I’m heading to the shower,” May suggests as she walks towards the door, “unless you want to save time and water.” She raises both eyebrows up and down. A small smirk appears on Pepper’s face, she licks her lips.

“Love to, sweet cheeks. But, I’m afraid I can’t get up, due to the food coma that has overcome me. Raincheck?” A pout forms on May’s face, “okay.” And she’s out the door. Pepper lays her head back onto the pillows, closing her eyes as her nose scrunches up and a sigh escapes her lips.

“You should’ve went,” Natasha calls out.

Pepper looks up and sees Natasha with her arms crossed, hair braided, standing against the wall. She’s dressed like Lara Croft, black jeans and leather jacket. Pepper gets up from the warm, comfortable bed, to her suitcase, pulling out an outfit.

“It’ll be fine, I’ll make it up to her,” Pepper says as she stands awkwardly holding her clothes in her crossed arms.

“This has nothing to do with morning shower sex but please don’t hurt her. She can overthink anything and is a little fragile.”

“I won’t. You can count on me to pick up any broken pieces that have fallen,” Pepper swears as she places a hand on her chest. Natasha looks at her, almost stunned, maybe her little cousin finally found someone who equals her.

“Well we’re going to the museum today, because I don’t think anyone wants to be in this house right now,” Natasha nods her head and walks way, leaving Pepper alone to get dressed. She’s half naked in just her bra and pajama bottoms when May comes back into her room, towel wrapped around her body and her brown hair is dripping wet down her back.

“Oh,” May says as her cheeks flush, she shuts the door behind her. “I thought you were going to shower after me.”

Pepper shakes her head, “dry shampoo does wonders.” She chuckles. “I’ll do it tonight, you did say you wanted a raincheck.”

May does a double-take, “You’re right, I did say that.” She smirks as she pulls her jeans over her tan, skinny, legs.

“I always am,” A now dressed Pepper says as she runs a hand through her hair. She turns around to see May standing in front of her mirror, admiring herself. Pepper smiles as May turns around.

“Let’s go,” she says as she glides past Pepper and out the bedroom door.

The four of them exit Natasha’s car and head to the museum, it’s not as grand as the one in New York, it has its perks and small flaws. Natasha grabbed Yelena’s hand and drags her in the opposite direction May and Pepper are going. “We’ll see you at the gift shop later!” She called out over her shoulder. Yelena sent the two women a sympathetic smile.

May let out a groan, “of course she wouldn’t want to keep the buddy system in place.” She opened the museum map and began to walk towards the art section, Pepper followed.

“It’s alright. They just want to do their own thing. C’mon,” Pepper smiles as she links her arm around May’s. They’re standing in a gigantic room, paintings scatter the walls in various directions and Pepper’s eyes are immediately fixated on a flower portrait. She stand in front of it, her hand rests on her chin.

“Whatcha thinking about?” May asks as she slides next to Pepper, her eyes move back and forth from the painting to Pepper.

“The colors in this blend almost like a sunset. See here,” she points. “The way the purple moves into the blue then fades into green and so on so forth.” May nods her head. It’s this moment she really wished focused during art class she had to take as an elective.

“I take it you like art?” May asks as they move down the line of paintings, staying in sync with Pepper.

“Yes, very much.”

“God, you and Steve would get along so great,” May says drastically as she looks at the map.

“Why’s that?’ Pepper asked curiously. She tilted her head to the side.

“Because Steve’s an artist, or at least trying to become one. He’s fascinated by it to the point where his apartment is filled with paintings, old and new, unfinished and completed. It’s really remarkable to see someone with their life together and completely immersed in their work.” May frowns and shamelessly tilts her head down to the floor. She walks towards the next set of paintings. Pepper’s eyebrows furrow, she’s not sure how to respond to the truth hidden between the lines. She lets out a breath and follows May.

It’s quiet in the museum besides the soft, elegant, classical music playing throughout the room. May and Pepper don’t speak for a moment until they reach another exhibit, the statues. May’s demeanor has completely changed. She pulls out a camera that Pepper had no idea she brought with her. May ran over to an open bench and rolled back the camera. She disposed the film into it, slow and steady, and snapped it shut. The sound of the camera rolling film was pure, soothingness, to Pepper’s ears. It was equivalent to a wave coming to the shore or the sound of coffee pouring into a mug. With a content sigh, May looked up at Pepper and smiled.

May jumped up from the bench, rolling back and forth on the heels of her shoes. She ushers Pepper to stand by the statue. “Imitate it please.”

With her mouth now agape, Pepper drops her bag next to May and immediately does what she’s told. The statue’s arms are slightly crossed with one another and her head is tilted up, showing off her jawline and collarbones. Once Pepper is in position, May adjusts the zoom and clicks the shutter. “Nice,” May says as she rolls the film. “Come on.” Pepper blinks and nods her head, she grabs her bag and follows the petite brunette.

They spend the next forty minutes lost in one another’s presence and taking photos of the statues while also recreating some of them with the help of a very nice bystander. By the time they’re done, it’s time to meet Natasha and Yelena at the gift shop. Natasha is talking indistinctly to Yelena, May can see that Yelena has a bag of goodies, no doubt in her mind Natasha bought her it.

“Did you guts have a good time?” Yelena asks as she pulls her bag tighter around her shoulder and leans into Natasha.

Pepper nods her head, “Yes, I loved it.” She pauses to glance at May and clears her throat. “The art was beautiful, this was a lot of fun.”

A small smirk appears on Natasha’s face, “good. Let’s go.”

May lets out a groan, “Awe, come on. I don’t want to go home just yet.”

Natasha sighs, “you know we have to go back eventually. You can’t keep hiding in your room until you leave tomorrow night.”

“I can try,” May mutters under her breath as she follows them to the car. Pepper rubs May’s shoulder in a calmly manner.

“I heard that,” Natasha calls out over her shoulder. May rolls her eyes because of course Natasha did. She probably, no definitely, has a sixth sense, May thinks.

They’re back again in the driveway and May just wants to stay in the car. She hates confrontation and she knows it’s only going to get worse. Maybe she can leave early, she thought. No, that would do no one good. Natasha and Yelena exit the car and head towards the house when May pauses in her step before entering. Pepper’s next to her, holding her hand. Getting a weird sense of deja vu.

“It’s alright if you want to leave tonight instead of tomorrow.” Pepper looks at her with concern, her eyebrows furrow. May sighs and says nothing when they enter the warm house. Her mother has definitely been baking as the smell of chocolate and cinnamon flow throughout the house. There’s a roar of laugher coming from the living room.

Natasha takes a pause when she sees Melina and Alexei sitting on the couch with May’s dad. They’re in the middle of a game of chess and a bottle of bourbon has been opened, the bottle is empty halfway. “Um, hi,” Natasha says and their attention is immediately drawn from the chessboard to her.

“Natasha!” Melina says as she gets up from her seat to hug Natasha. Natasha doesn’t know if she should hug her back or remain stiff as a board. “I told you we would come. Hello Yelena.”

“Hello,” Yelena responds as she glances at Natasha. The expression on Natasha’s face is hard to read. Yelena doesn’t know if she should comfort or drag her away from the scene in front of them. Behind them, May and Pepper lean their heads in the room to see what the commotion is and May’s eyes widen. “Those are Natasha’s adopted parents,” she whispers to Pepper. Pepper nods her head. “We heard you were going to be here for the holidays so we thought we would surprise you,” Melina says as she glances back at Alexei, who is taking a gulp of his cold, bourbon, glass. Natasha swallows and clears her throat. “Not that I’m happy to see you, but you didn’t have to come here. We would be with you for the holidays anyway.”

Melina’s eyebrows furrow, “I thought you would be excited to see us. It’s our first Christmas here and it’s been so long since we saw our dear niece, May.” She pauses to look around for the brunette and her eyes land on May slowly sneaking upstairs with Pepper. “May!”

May sighs and turns back around with a smiles on her face, “Hi aunt Melina.” Melina embraces May and rubs her shoulders. “It’s so good to see you dear, how are you?”

May is taken back by the question. Ever since she arrived home, no one has asked her that and she is once again reminded why she likes Melina more than her own flesh and blood mom. May sniffles.

“I’m doing my best, aunt Melina. Um, this is Pepper, my girlfriend. Pepper, this is aunt Melina, Natasha’s mom.” May says as she glances at Natasha, who is sneaking away with Yelena to another room.

“Hi Pepper, it’s so good to meet you” Melina outstretches a hand to her. “How are you enjoying our cold weather? I bet it’s a bit upscale from New York.” Pepper softly shakes her hand, she brushes a strand of hair behind her ear.

“It’s definitely colder than New York but nothing I can’t handle. Actually, I quite like it.” Pepper says honestly. She doesn’t know where this sudden burst of confidence and truth came out. Maybe it has something to do with the way Melina does things and asks the right questions.

“That’s wonderful to hear. I can’t wait to tell you more once we have gotten settled,” Melina is interrupted by Alexei yelling at Ed, she rolls her eyes. “I have to go calm him down before things get out of hand again. I’ll see you girls later.” As quickly as she came to them, Melina is next to Alexei, rubbing his arm calmly.

May exhales, “there, you met Melina. I think that’s everyone besides by brother and sister who,” May pauses for a second to overlook the living room and part of the kitchen, “who, aren’t even here.” May rubs a hand over her face, she was starting to get tired of her family.

“If my mom and I don’t make up tonight then we’re hopping on the first plane out, is that alright with you?” May asks Pepper, she looks up at her, there’s almost tears in May’s eyes.

“Come on,” Pepper says as she grabs May’s hand. Together they walk up the stairs to May’s room and shut the door. Both of them let out a gasp when they see Natasha and Yelena sitting on the couch.

“I thought you guys were still downstairs,” May questions as she sits on the bed, Pepper following.

“How did you forget your house has more than one set of staircase in it? It truly baffles me that i’m here more than you are,” Natasha says as she plays with Yelena’s hand, instinctively drawing circles on it.

“Yeah, well, don’t take that as a compliment or let it go straight to your head,” May argues back. She leans her head back onto the pillows.

“Do you want to tell or should I?” Pepper whispers. May turns her head towards her, “No, I can”

“Anything you’d like to share with the class, Parker?” Natasha says with an eyebrow raised.

“If mom and I don’t make up tonight, we’re leaving,” May says calmly as she intertwines a finger with Pepper’s, locking it together. Yelena’s eyebrows raise and she cranes her neck to look at Natasha.

“Are you sure?” Natasha asks in a concerning voice, surprising May.

“Yeah. I’m tired of it, I just want to go home, be in my bed and see Milo. I knew I should’ve gone to Tony's.” May angrily says as she hits her head back down onto the soft pillows.

Yelena was about to open her mouth but Natasha beat her to it, “Milo is her cat.” Yelena nods her head and closes her mouth, smiling.

“We have a cat too. A white cat named Luna,” Yelena says smiling.

“She hates me,” Natasha says with a straight face.

“No, she doesn’t,” Yelena looks at her defensively as Natasha rolls her eyes.

“Awe, we can have cat playdates,” May says grinning and definitely doesn’t miss the awful, horrid, look flashing across Natasha’s face.

Yelena laughs. “I’m so down for that. We need to set up at date.”

“No.” Natasha immediately says.

“Yes.”

May clears her throat, “can I just ask-“

“No,” Natasha says once again. “We’re not talking about why they’re here. I have no idea. I didn’t ask them, neither did Yelena.”

May nods her head, “okay, good.”

“Good,” Natasha repeats as she rubs a hand across her forehead, trying to relieve the sudden tension she had.

There’s a knock on May’s door.

“Yeah?” May calls out.

Ed pokes his head in with his eyes closed when he opens the door, “is everyone decent?”

Natasha chuckles, “yes, uncle Ed.”

“Oh, good,” Ed opens his eyes. “Dinner’s ready.” He turns to head back down the stairs before pausing to turn back to May.

“May, it’s okay with me if you want to go back to New York. I know you’ve only been here a short time but, it was nice to have you back home, kiddo.” He smiles and trudges down the staircase. May sighs and thinks to herself, he’s definitely a spy or has cameras everywhere.

Dinner that evening is quiet, the tension in the air is thick. Melina helped Claire make pasta, even their homemade sauce. It was delicious and very comforting. Alexei and Ed talked amongst themselves, discussing various things from cars to the economy. The girls sit at the booth, Natasha and Yelena sat in during breakfast, while the other adults claimed the island.

Melina, who sat the closest to them, turned in her seat. “So Pepper,” Pepper pauses, her forkful of penne froze midair. “How did you meet May?” May glances at Pepper.

Pepper places her fork back into her bowl, “we met through Tony, one of May’s closest friends. He introduced us and the rest was history.” Pepper smiles.

Melina nods her head, “very cute. Tony as in Tony Stark?”

“Yes,” May says this time, allowing Pepper to continue to eat her pasta. “You met him, I think, last year when we came over for Christmas. It was the year Natasha got sick.”

Melina’s face lit up, “yes! I remember, he was very sweet. He helped me bake cookies and talked about a boy named Steve, whom he had a crush on.”

May smiled, “they’re together now. They’re disgustingly adorable.” May sticks her tongue out before taking a bite of bread.

“That makes me so happy to hear! Alexei, dear."

Alexei pauses his conversation with Ed and focuses his attention on his wife, “yeah?”

“You remember last Christmas when May brought home her friend Tony?”

Alexei face also lights up, “of course! I told him he needed to grow more, he’s uncomfortably short for his age. How is he doing May?” He cranes his neck to look at May from over Melina’s shoulder.

“He’s doing very well, he’s trying to get into business while working part-time at a garage. And as I told Melina, he’s with Steve now. I think they’re going on almost a year together, right, Pepper?” Pepper nods her head.

“Get outta here!” Alexei exclaims. “That’s wonderful. Please tell him I wish him all the best, I hope one day we can meet Steve.”

“I’ll pass it along, uncle Alexei. You can count on me,” May says smiling as she takes a sip of water. She glances up at Natasha and Yelena who can sense a relief coming from May, more like a breath of fresh air. It’s extremely comforting for all of them in their little booth.

A pair of utensils clattering onto a plate makes everyone jump in their seats, except for Ed, who continues eating and is definitely used to this annoying behavior from his wife by now. Claire stands up, her chair screeches on the hardwood floor, she puts her dish into the sink and heads towards the living room. The tv echos throughout the first floor of the house.

Ed lets out a heavy sigh and excuses himself from the kitchen, he follows in his wife’s footsteps while absentmindedly scratching the back of his neck. Melina and Alexei side eye one another before they continue eating, occasionally grabbing more bread from the bowl.

May lets out a puff of hair, a strand of hair blows. She pushes her pasta bowl away from her and crosses her arms over her chest. Natasha looks at her sympathetically, she reaches across the table, palm facing up. May looks at it before putting her own hand on top, Natasha rubs her hand with her thumb, in a circling motion. Pepper leans over and places a kiss on May’s temple.

“If you want to go, we can go,” Pepper whispers. May nods her head and gets up from her seat, she takes the semi-empty bowls to the sink. As she pushes back her hair from her face and ties it onto a low ponytail, she turns back to Melina and Alexei.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t spend more time together. I hope you’ll come to New York soon and we can do something, maybe i’ll cook and bust out the card games,” May says as she laughs uncomfortably.

Melina nods her head, “I would love that May, thank you. Definitely stock up on beer for this guy,” she nudges Alexei who raises his glass.

“I’ll keep my schedule open,” May responds before signaling the girls to head upstairs. They pause in their steps when yelling is louder than the tv.

“I don’t want to hear it Claire. I’m tired of it and getting annoyed every second,” Ed exclaims.

“You’re tired of it? Tired of what exactly, me telling you how I feel?” Claire says back, hostile as usual. May rolls her eyes.

“Tired of you treating May and your niece like this,” Ed gestures his hands out. “Like they’re not human beings, they are, and one of them is your flesh and blood. Have you even talked to Pepper since she’s been here, besides the hello from yesterday? Cause I have. She’s incredibly smart and I can see how much our May means to her.” Ed argues back.

May looks at Pepper, who’s eyebrows are furrow. Pepper may have forgot to mention that she did talk to Ed when she came down for lunch. May grabs her hand and kisses her knuckle. Natasha and Yelena continue up the stairs while Pepper and May linger for a minute.

“Change our attitude and mindset, even the way you treat everyone in this house. I’m sleeping in the guest room for the time being.” It’s quiet for a moment until Ed’s footsteps are being heard and he’s standing on the bottom step of the stairs, looking up at May and Pepper. A smile appears on his face and he puts a hand on May’s shoulder, rubbing it in a comfortingly. The three of them head upstairs, Pepper continues walking while May and Ed stop at the landing.

“Have a safe flight, kiddo. Please call me when you get home.”

“Will do, dad. And, um, thank you. You didn’t have to do that,” May says when Ed pulls her into a hug. She feels a little uncomfortable with the sudden affection, something she’s not used to since she was a child. She hugs him back, wrapping her arms around his torso. He pulls away after a full minute.

“Remember what I said,” Ed says while pointing at her, smiling, and enters the guest bedroom. May chuckles and throws her arms up in the arm and brings them back down while letting out a breath she didn’t know she was holding it.

May enters her room when Pepper is packing her suitcase, she’s folding her clothes neatly, making sure they fit perfectly. “You know the t.s.a agents don’t credit you for how well you pack your suitcase?”

Pepper chuckles, “is it a crime to have everything neat for when I unpack at home? No.” May shakes her head and starts packing.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that I talked to your dad while I had lunch and you were with Natasha. It slipped my mind,” Pepper confesses while looking at May throwing her clothes into her suitcase.

“It’s okay, you don’t need my permission to talk to anyone. I appreciate you talking to him. Please tell me he didn’t dive into his dad talk or completely overshare about my childhood,” May pleads as she holds her hands together, praying. Pepper smiles, “Yes, he talked about you but, nothing bad I promise.”

May smiles as she zips her suitcase shut. She reaches down to grab her carryon and puts her necessary items in it, including the book she wanted to read but never got the chance to. Pepper puts her coat on, not caring that the outfit she wore, a pair of leggings and a hoodie, didn’t match. She lifts her hair that got stuck under the collar and turns to May. “Ready?”

May has her coat on and throws her carryon over her shoulder. “As I’ll ever be.” They walk down the stairs, suitcases in tow.

“Hey, wait, who bought our plane tickets?” May asks with an eyebrow raise.

“Your dad,” Pepper says enthusiastically as she looks at her feet, worrying she might tumble down the flight of stairs.

May smiles and mumbles, ‘of course’ under her breath.

At the bottom of the stairs is Melina and Alexei, they embrace the two girls in hugs. May promises Melina she’ll call her when they get home to arrange when they can get together, because let’s face it, they need a redo of this Christmas break.

As they head out the door, Claire gives them no attention, her sole focus is the reruns of criminal minds. Pepper shakes her head. Natasha opens her trunk and helps them put the suitcases in it. The door closes shut and they’re in the car. Natasha starts the engine and before she can pull out of the driveway, Ed comes out of the house, yelling, “wait!”

May rolls down her window, “yeah, dad?”

Ed stops in front, pausing to catch his breathe even though the distance between the front door and driveway was no longer than eight feet.

“This is for you,” he hands her a present wrapped in red paper and a bow on top, “Merry early Christmas, May.” He smiles. May’s eyes widen and her eyebrows raise high enough that she has lines on her forehead. “Open it when you get home or even at the airport,” Ed says before sending May one last smile and running back into the house.

“What was that about?” Natasha asks as she looks into the mirror, pulling out of the driveway.

“A present,” May says smiling as she rubs her hands over the wrapping paper.

“Great, so you get one early while we have to wait until tomorrow,” Natasha says sarcastically as she turns right.

“Are you going to open it?” Yelena asks May, turning in her seat.

“Later, I will,” May replies as she glances at Pepper.

Natasha puts the car in park when they arrive at the airport. There’s a sudden realization between the four of them that this could be the last time they see one another, until Natasha’s wedding, at least. Natasha doesn’t say anything when she exits the car and pops the trunk open for May and Pepper to grab their luggage.

May sets her luggage on the concrete and immediately grabs Natasha in for a hug, the redhead instinctively wraps her arms around May’s petite form. She buries her head in May’s neck.

“You know you’re my maid of honor, right?” Natasha mumbles against May’s neck and May lets out a sob and laughs.

“Of course, I know. Who else puts up with your shit?” This time Natasha laughs, a real genuine one. They pull away slowly and dry their tears with the end of their jackets and laugh. “Promise to call me?” Natasha says as she extends out her pinky finger. May nods her head and wraps her own finger around Natasha’s, they shake. May turns her head to see Pepper and Yelena exchanging numbers and talking quietly amongst themselves.

“She’s a good one, I hope you keep her,” Natasha nods her head in Pepper’s direction. May licks her lips and smiles, “I plan too.”

May waves over to Pepper, “we better get going.” Pepper nods her head. “It was nice to meet you Yelena. I hope you know you have a long road ahead with this one” May nudges Natasha’s arm. Natasha glares at her.

“Oh, I know. I’ll enjoy it,” Yelena says with a grin on her face.

“And that’s our cue to go. Goodbye, I love you,” May exclaims as she blows the two of them a kiss. Natasha imitates her before pulling out of the spot.

“You ready?” Pepper says once she’s next to May at the check-in line. She instinctively reaches out for May’s hand and intertwines their hands together.

“Yes,” May says without a beat. She kisses Pepper’s knuckle and they’re off back to New York.

It’s only nine-thirty when they’re in a taxi headed out of the city when May begins to question where they’re going. She does a double take before asking Pepper, the right and only question, “Where are we going?” To which Pepper responds with, “just relax and you’ll see when we get there.” May sighs and leans her head against the headrest, she slowly begins to drift off. With the day she had she at least deserved some sleep. Another thirty minutes pass and May is awaken by the car door shutting, she jumps in her seat and rubs her sleepy eyes. Pepper opens the door for her and unbuckles her seatbelt. May feels like a little kid when her parents used to wake her up after a long car ride and carry her into the house. No way is she allowing Pepper to carry her. “I’m alright,” she says once she gets her bearings. Pepper nods her head.

“C’mon, I’m sure they’ll want to see you,” Pepper says as she hands both of their luggage to a man at the front steps. May raises an eyebrow when she steps out of the taxi, she’s about to pay the driver when Jarvis steps up to do it for them. May’s eyes widened. She wants to squeal but she knows it’s late and she definitely didn’t want to wake up the whole neighborhood. Jarvis turns to face them when the driver pulls away from the sidewalk.

“Good evening miss Parker,” Jarvis says in his wonderful British tone that May absolutely adores every time she hears it. May is hugging Jarvis faster than Pepper can blink. The tall man smiles and imitates her, wrapping an arm around her neck. May breathes in his scent, a smell of cherries and a hint of scotch. They pull away and walk in arm and arm towards the house, Pepper follows closely behind, smiling to herself.

“I’ll have you know miss Parker that I have missed our weekly board games. I can play a mean game of poker.”

“Oh, don’t I know it, J. You always beat me but, never at checkers. That’s my speciality.” May says as she winks back at Pepper.

Pepper’s never been inside the Stark family home before and it’s much more beautiful than she imagined. It’s like it was taken straight out of a renaissance painting and fused with modern elements.

“Beautiful, is it not?” Jarvis says, breaking Pepper’s train of thought.

She clears her throat. “Yes, it is.” She extends a hand out to him. “I’m Pepper Potts, we spoke on the phone.”

“Yes, of course, miss Potts. It’s wonderful to finally meet you.” Jarvis shakes her hand before reaching over to grab the phone.

“Tony, you have company. Can you and mister Rogers please come down.” Jarvis nods his head and hangs up. He turns to the girls. “Would any of you like some tea? We have every kind.”

“Yes!” May exclaims as she follows Jarvis to the kitchen, dragging along Pepper. “Jarvis makes the best tea, you’ll love it.”

“I’m sure I will,” Pepper responds with a smile on her face.

Jarvis starts up the teapot by pouring water into it and setting it onto the stove, igniting it. He takes two tea cups and sets them next to the stove, a teabags in each. As the teapot heats up and begins to whistle, Tony and Steve enter the kitchen. Tony’s eyes widen as he runs to them, hugging both of them tightly. Steve smiles with his arms crossed against his chest.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were home,” Tony questions May, a concerned look plasters his face. He rubs her shoulder in a comforting manner.

“Not now okay? They just got here,” Jarvis says suddenly when he pours, now four cups of tea.

“Yes, sir,” Tony says as he sits next down to May.

Jarvis adds honey to every cup and slides one to each of them. “There are some lemon squares on the counter, feel free to take as much as you like. Tony, mister Rogers, miss Parker, and miss Potts, it’s been a pleasure. I bid you all a goodnight.”

“Thank you, Jarvis” They all say in unison, and that makes Jarvis grin.

Steve slides in next to Pepper, he blows on his cup of tea before taking a sip of it. “Thank you for calling me. He was getting worried about the two of you going to May’s home. I’m glad you cut it short.”

“Anytime, Steve. I mean it. I should be the one thanking you, not the other way around.”

“I’ll take you up on that anytime, starting now,” Steve lets out a chuckle.

“How was your weekend before we crashed yours? Sorry,” Pepper says shamefully as she sips her tea.

“It’s been great, Tony’s parents aren’t home and—“ Pepper raises and eyebrow and smirks. “hey! None of that.” Pepper chuckles. “Anyway, it’s been really good getting to know Jarvis. He’s really the best, I finally see what Tony’s been talking about all this time.”

“That’s really great, Steve. You got the approval of the highest person on Tony’s list of who he truly cares about. The second being you, then May and me.” Steve smiles bashfully.

“Thanks, Pepper. I appreciate it.”

“Hey,” Tony suddenly says making Pepper and Steve look in his direction. “What are you two talking about that’s making Steve go as red and hot as his tea?” Steve chuckles.

“Nothing that concerns you, sweetheart.”

“Oh, god,” May gags before taking a bite of a lemon bar.

“Oh, shut up Parker, you’re much worse.” Tony says as he drinks his tea in slight disgust. Tony wouldn’t dare say he hates it because he does. He just couldn’t live with himself to see the look on Steve’s face when he disappoints him.

“You got me there,” May mumbles through the lemon bar and holds up a pair of finger guns. She chuckles. Tony sets his cup down on the counter.

“Okay, lay it on me. We have plenty of time.” Tony rests an arm on the counter, his head lay in his comfortably in his palm. He looks up at her with eyebrows raised and a concern look. May sighs heavily. “First, Natasha’s getting married.”

Tony’s eyes widen. “I thought she was divorced?”

“She is. Now, she’s engaged to Yelena, who is just wonderful. You’ll love her, she’s so sweet.”

Tony’s mouth is agape with a grin on his face. “To a woman?! Why didn’t you lead with that! That’s great.”

“It is. I’ve never seen her so happy before, it was relieving.”

“Okay, so that’s the good news. What’s the bad?” Tony’s face is all serious. The grin from before is replaced with a stern look. May wets her lips and stops herself from looking anywhere but Tony’s face. “Um,” she pauses, moving a strand of hair out of her face. “My mom doesn’t approve.” May lets out a dry laugh. Tony immediately pulls her into his arms, wrapping his arms around her frame. He comforted her in the same way Jarvis had did when his own father didn’t approve of him being with Steve. Tony felt May’s tears soak his shirt as she sobbed into his arms, clenching his shirt in her fists. A wave of anger washed over his face as he looked up to Pepper and Steve sitting quietly, letting them have their moment. One look at Tony and Steve knew, of course he knew. How could he not? It was the exact same face Steve made when Tony told Howard. They understood one another. Pepper began to rub May’s back gently, she let out a sigh. None of them moved for a solid seven minutes, occasionally drinking their tea in silence. Tony held his breath when May lifted her head off of his tear stained shoulder, she sniffled.

“Sorry, about your shirt,” she rubbed her nose on her sleeve and wiped her eyes.

Tony chuckled, “it’s okay. I have plenty of shirts.” He tilted his head to the left and raised an eyebrow. “You okay?”

“Yeah, eventually.” May let out a breathy laugh. “Thanks for that, I needed a good cry.”

“Don’t we all.”

Tony reaches over and grabs a lemon bar. He takes a bite of one and looks at Steve. “Ready for bed?” Steve nods his head and puts his cup into the sink and rises it out.

“Ladies, we’ll see you in the morning. Jarvis is making his special pancakes.” Tony beamed as he wraps and arm around Steve, slowly leaving the kitchen.

“You must be exhausted, baby.” Pepper gently says as she moves a strand of hair out of May’s face and places a kiss to her temple. May blushes at the nickname, she always does, as she ponders saying something but stops when she instinctively leans into Pepper.

“C’mon, let’s get to bed. We’ve had a long, tiring, day.”

May nods her head. She slides her empty cup over to Pepper who gracefully takes both and puts them into the sink next to Steve’s.

Arm in arm they walk up the mahogany staircase. Steve had told Pepper that they would be staying in the guest room across from Tony’s. May flops down on the soft duvet, too lazy and drained to change into her pajamas. Pepper looks around the room and notices their luggage is stacked neatly by the door, along with an adjoined bathroom.

“You lay there. I’m gonna get changed, okay?” Pepper tells May as she grabs her change of clothes. Before entering the bathroom she turns to see May lift up a thumbs up. Pepper chuckles. Not even four minutes later, Pepper is changed and much more comfortable, she sees May completely passed out on the bed. Pepper shakes her head and smiles. Slowly but carefully, without waking May, she moves her under the covers. Pepper slides in next to her and wraps an arm around May’s chest, kissing her forehead. Matching May’s breathing, she slowly begins to fall asleep.

May wakes up from the best sleep of her life, the kind of sleep that gives you lines on your arms when you wake up. She lets out a content sigh and rubs her eyes. She feels a weight on her chest and looks down to see Pepper sleeping soundly on her. May smiles. She slowly moves out from under Pepper and stretches her legs, arms and back until she hears her a cracking sound that is slightly satisfying to her ears. May heads to the bathroom quietly, without waking Pepper, and does her business before hearing a faint tapping on the bedroom door. With an eyebrow raise, May opens the door just a crack and fights the urge to let out a scream when Tony’s head peeks in. She glares at him and flicks him in the forehead, Tony’s not phased by it at all.

“Jarvis has breakfast ready, come on.”

May nods her head, feeling a bit fatigued after yesterday's unfortunate events, she rushes over to a sleeping soundly Pepper. She brushes the hair out of Pepper’s eyes as the blonde lets out a content sigh and blinks repeatedly.

“Good morning, sleepy head. Jarvis has breakfast ready, you hungry?” May asks as she slowly removes the covers from Pepper’s body.

“Starving, but I’m not imposed to staying here all day.” Pepper raises an eyebrow.

May bites her lip. “Tempting but, i’ve been craving Jarvis’ chocolate chip pancakes since we got here last night.”

Pepper hangs her head low, “It was worth a shot. Lead the way your majesty.” She bows ever so slightly before May grabs her arm, pulling her off the soft bed and into the hallway where Tony and Steve are still standing. Pepper laughs.

“Dear god, another minute and we would’ve left your ass in the dust.” Tony joked as Steve nudges him making Tony yelp out an ‘ow.’

Tony gawks at Steve. “You’re just pure muscle, aren’t you?”

Steve rolls his eyes as a sly smirk appears on his face. “Oh, shush. You love it.”

Tony blinks repeatedly and moves to kiss Steve. He pauses in his step when May lets out a barf sound, their eyes immediately glare at her.

“Can we please go eat now?” May pleads. She clasps her hands together, begging. Tony sighs as he puts an arm out, gesturing May and Pepper to head down the stairs towards the kitchen.

“Yes!” May exclaims and grabs Pepper’s arm dragging her down the stairs, semi tripping in the process. Steve chuckles.

The kitchen smells like a bakery, a heavenly, beautiful bakery. There’s plates of eggs, bacon, sausages and chocolate chips pancakes. Amongst the food is orange juice and of course, coffee and tea. Jarvis is mid pouring coffee into a mug when the four of them come in and sit at the island. A ear to ear grin flashes across his face. “Good morning, and Merry Christmas!”

A flash of confusion is on May’s face, she cups her face with her hands and gasps. “Holy shit I forgot.”

Pepper rubs May’s arm, “it’s okay. Yesterday was chaotic.”

“After breakfast, we’ll open gifts. Tony, your parents left gifts out before they left. I think it would be wise to at least call them for this occasion.” Jarvis says sternly, looking Tony in the eyes. Tony lets out a groan.

“I’ll do it later, J. I promise.” Jarvis nods his head, gesturing everyone to begin eating.

May immediately grabs a plate and takes a stack of pancakes. She adds a dab of butter and a lot of syrup and lets out a heavenly sigh when she takes a bite. May looks up at Jarvis. Pepper smiles, a giggle escapes her lips.

“Jarvis I want these pancakes every time I come here, you hear me?” May says as she raises a forkful of pancake in the air and into her mouth.

“As you wish, miss Parker.

May lets out a gasp, “Nice Princess Bride reference there, J.” May smirks.

Jarvis hides the smile across his face by taking a sip of his coffee. Tony shakes his head and whispers something to Steve that May, nor Pepper can hear, which results in Steve chuckling as he eats his scrambled eggs. Tony takes a sip of coffee and places his cup back down on the marble countertop.

“After gifts I assume you’ll be heading back to the city?” He questions, looking to Pepper, who is smearing butter onto a piece of toast.

“Yes?” Pepper questions as she side eyes May who nods her head. “Yes.” She repeats, more clear this time.

“Good. So are we. You’ll come back with us.” Tony grins, not missing the sudden death glare on May’s face. “Oh, cheer up, May. It’ll be fun.” May shrugs her shoulders.

Once everyone has eaten a little bit of everything, they graciously help Jarvis clean up and head to the living room with the biggest Christmas tree. Tony opens his gifts from his parents, from Maria, a record vinyl, and a watch from Howard. Tony shakes his head as he tosses both aside. Both gifts he had gotten from the previous Stark Christmas gathering.

Tony’s mood is instantly changed when Steve opens his gift from him. He takes a polaroid of Steve as he opens the blue wrapped box, inside it is multiple paint sets. Steve knows it’s the expensive one he’s been saving up for but he doesn’t care about that at all right now. He leans in to give Tony a kiss that Tony happily obliges with, wrapping a hand around his neck, deepening it. Jarvis lets out a cough before either of them can continue their PG-13 film.

Steve turns red, blush forming from his cheeks down his neck, while Tony shamelessly rubs the back of his neck. Tony gestures for May to open her gift, the one her father gave her before they left. It’s wrapped neatly with a red bow around it, and it’s a little on the lighter side. May untangles the bow and sets it off the the side. She lifts the cover of the medium size box to see a second box inside, it’s smaller and wrapped in tissue paper.

May’s eyebrows furrow as she rips the tissue paper off, throwing it into the previous box. She opens the box to see a folded up letter and a silver chain with a locket and ring around it. She gasps at the coldness and initials written on the locket; E.P. It also smells very old, like the smell of old books or an antique shop. Setting the necklace back down in the box, May opens the folded letter and the first thing she notices is that it's in her father’s handwriting.

‘May,

This necklace belonged to your grandmother, my mother, Edith Parker. You know for a long time she was with grandpa Parker but that wasn’t her first love. Her first love and other woman in the locket is Sophie. As for the ring, it was Edith’s. Sophie gave it to her and she wore it everyday around her neck hidden.’

May does a double-take, her mouth agape, and continues to read.

‘I’ve known Sophie all my life, you would’ve loved her my dear, May. and be absolutely enchanted by all the stories and special moments she would tell you one on one. I have other items from their time together, a box of trinkets and letters in a box, hidden, of course. Your grandmother asked me to pass this down to you when it was time and I think right now is a good one. I’m sorry, I have to give you this when you’re not here in front of me. I hope it puts a smile on your face. I love you. Happy Holidays. — Dad’

May doesn’t know how to react other than with tear-filled eyes. She smiles, a real genuine one, dimples and all. She gently holds the necklace in her hands afraid it might break, as she opens the locket and low and behold, two photos on equal sides of the locket are Edith and Sophie. May sighs, she rubs her thumb over the photos. She can see a little resemblance of herself in her grandmother. Her eyes advert to the ring, a silver thin band with multiple roses on it. Upon a closer look May notices their initials are engraved in it as well. She decides to leave it with the locket as intended. As May unclasps the necklace, Pepper is next to her, moving May’s hair onto one side of her frame.

“Let me,” Pepper whispers. May nods her head.

Pepper dangles the necklace around May’s neck, goosebumps arise on her skin. Pepper’s hands are shaking slightly, she doesn’t know when the sudden nervousness started. Probably when she realized she’s completely in love with May Parker and everything in her body is telling her this a red flag because there’s no way this angel sent from heaven likes, hell, loves her back. None of the less, Pepper shakes her head, clearing the thoughts, she fastens the necklace clip and pulls May’s hair back around her neck. May looks down at the necklace, and turns looking up at Pepper. “Thank you,” May whispers. “It’s beautiful.”

“You’re welcome. And yes, it is,” Pepper says quietly, heart thumping in her chest, as she looks at May. May looks into Pepper’s eyes, her eyes widen, almost as if a light bulb went off in her head. She gasps quietly and excuses herself from the group. Pepper’s eyes follow her. “I’ll be right back.”

Tony claps his hands. “Shall we continue? Jarvis, this one’s for you.” Tony hands Jarvis a present. Their chatter slowly fades out when Pepper closes the kitchen door to have privacy. May is standing with her arms crossed, her back against the counter, and eyebrows furrow with thin lines across her forehead.

Pepper intertwines her hands together in front of her, she pauses in her step afraid of getting closer she will spook May. “You okay?”

May immediately looks up, her mouth agape. “Why didn’t you tell me you were in love with me?” Her arms relax at her sides.

Pepper’s mouth opens then closes. She ponders for a moment. “I was going to tell you.” She clenches her hands, knuckles turning a shade of white.

“When? In a year or two?” May steps forward.

“I mean, maybe,” Pepper shrugs. May scoffs. “And how did you think I would feel, huh? What if I started dating someone? Or you started dating? Would you just stay quiet about it and suffer in silence?”

“In the case of you dating someone, yes, I would stay quiet about it, because it’s unrequited love. If I started dating someone, I wouldn’t give my all to then and I know that’s not fair at all. Pepper takes a step forward, she unclenches her hands.

May licks her lips. “What if it’s not unrequited love?”

“Then we do something about it.” Pepper takes two steps. She wipes her clammy hands onto her pants.

“Let’s do something about it.” May strides over to Pepper, wrapping a hand around her neck, pulling her in for a kiss. It’s hot, and heavy and teeth clashing. Pepper’s arms instinctively wrap around May’s torso, sliding down to her hips, fitting perfectly into May’s love handles. Pepper lets out a small moan when May pulls away, her pupils are wide and there’s a spark in them.

“I love you.” Pepper grins like a Cheshire Cat. Her heart is banging like a drum and she feels like she can suddenly float on water. She pulls May back in, mumbling, ‘I love you too’ on her lips. Pepper lifts May onto the counter, May dangles her legs on either side of Pepper. She wraps them around Pepper’s legs, pulling her towards her. May’s hands roam Pepper’s body, rubbing her hands up and down her arms, almost as if this is their first time. It’s not. She feels goosebumps and soft skin, and the smell of roses. It soothes her. May moves away from Pepper’s mouth to place delicate kisses along her neck and collarbone. Pepper bites her lip.

Pepper sighs heavily. “We’re in the kitchen. I don’t think it’s a good idea to get hot and heavy in here.” Pepper leans her forehead against May’s. May pouts, her bottom lip poking out. “You’re right.”

Pepper helps May down from the counter and together they head back into the living room where the others have unwrapped all the presents.

“Hey, you’re back! We opened everything because it’s my house and I can,” Tony smirks.

“That’s okay,” May says smiling. “We’re just going to relax and get things ready before we leave.” She side eyes Pepper and grabs her hand.

“That’s right, I totally forgot,” Steve gasps. His eyes still fixated on his paint supplies. Tony’s heart swells in his chest every time he sees that glimmer in Steve’s eyes.

“I’ll pack leftovers for all of you,” Jarvis announces before heading into the kitchen.

“Thank you, J.” Tony yells with a smile on his face.

May leads Pepper up the stairs to their room, she shuts the door. Pepper leans back onto the bed, she closes her eyes. May licks her lips before lunging herself on top of Pepper. Her arms rest on either side of Pepper’s head, the necklace dangles, occasionally bumping into Pepper’s nose.

May kisses Pepper slowly and softly, she slips her tongue in. Pepper lets out a low moan as she switches their position, without breaking the kiss. Pepper slowly lifts up May’s shirt to unbutton her pants. She slides them down her legs and drops them to the floor with a silent thud. May rubs her hands along Pepper’s arms, feeling how they twitch anytime she touches them.

Pulling away, Pepper kisses May’s stomach and slowly kisses down until she reaches her underwear, placing a kiss there too when May lets out a whimper. Pepper wraps a hand around her thigh, kissing the side of it before using a finger to drag down May’s underwear and off the bed, dropping down on top of her pants.

May’s hips lift off the bed when Pepper kisses her clit. She slides two fingers through her folds, feeling how aroused she is and slowly begins to rub in circular motions. May lets out a breathy moan. “Pepper.”

“Yeah?” She raises an eyebrow and looks up.

“C’mon already, please.”

“As you wish.” Pepper says before licking a long stride. She goes up and down, very slowly, teasing May. She slides one finger in and May’s hips once again, lift off the bed as she grabs onto the sheets. Pepper kitten-like licks her clit as she slides a second finger in, she speeds up her motion, feeling May’s walls clench around her fingers. She’s close and May bites her lip to the point where it starts to bleed. Pepper removes her fingers and replaces them with her tongue and May moans loud.

Pepper grabs May’s hand with her, now free, one. Too caught up in the act to care about the wetness of Pepper's hand, May intertwines them together, knuckles turning white as Pepper’s tongue goes deeper until May’s backs arches off the bed for a final time and she gasps. May sees a blinding light and stars as Pepper continues to lick, not leaving anything behind and lays her head on May’s stomach, breathing heavily.

May chuckles. “I’ll never get tired of that.”

Pepper kisses May’s thigh. “Neither will I.”

May runs her hand through Pepper’s hair as they lay there for a moment or two. May sighs.

“I have to shower before we go. Unless you want to take me up on our previous rain check?” May smirks as she raises an eyebrow.

“Tempting but if I go with you, we’ll never get out.” Pepper pushes a strand behind May’s ear.

May rolls her eyes playfully and gets off the bed. "Pick something out for me."

Pepper tilts her head down, “of course.” May smiles and closes the bathroom door behind her before poking her head out.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Pepper shakes her head and stands up, stretching. She lets out a content sigh before taking out some clothes for May and herself.

Fifteen minutes later, May is out of the shower with a towel wrapped around her body. She graciously puts the clothes, Pepper laid out for her, on. It’s just her usual grey crewneck and matching sweatpants, but May can’t help but smile to herself.

“I figured you would want to be comfortable in the car,” Pepper says honestly as she heads to the bathroom.

“Thank you.” May pulls the crewneck over her head and untucks her hair from the neckline. She puts her grandmother’s necklace back on and holds it in her hands.

Pepper quickly vanishes into the bathroom as May gathers her things. They barely touches their suitcases when they arrived, only to change into pajamas and get necessities. There’s a knock at their door and May has an inkling she knows who it is. Her suspicion is correct when she opens to see Tony staring at her. May raises an eyebrow.

“You had sex.” Is the first thing to come out of Tony’s lips and May gasps. May’s nose scrunches up as she tries to weasel her way out of talking about it but Tony ignores her and hops on the window seat, avoiding the bed at all cost.

May rests her hands on her hips. “What do you want Tony?”

Tony leans forward. “Well I would love to hear about the sexy stuff but Steve told me I have to tell you we’re leaving soon. As in five minutes because mr perfect doesn’t want to hit traffic.”

May chuckles. “You guys have the weirdest nicknames, I’ll never understand it.” Tony shakes his head.

“And you never will, my dear.”

Pepper comes out of the bathroom fully clothed, she’s not surprised to see Tony here, after all it is his house, well, parents house technically. She had a feeling he would be in the room and definitely didn’t want to scare him into oblivion at her nakedness.

Tony raises his eyebrows up and down with a smirk plastered across his face. “So,” he drags out.

“So what?” Pepper rolls her eyes.

Tony claps his hands together and lets out a child-like giggle. “I can’t believe you guys had sex in my parents room! I can’t wait to tell Steve.”

May and Pepper fall silent, they side-eye one another and shoulders tense up. Tony’s hand covers his mouth to contain his laughter.

“What!”

“Can you repeat that one more time?”

Tony takes a breath and grins. “Yeah, we don’t have a guest bedroom. Most of the rooms up here are offices and libraries, it’s just their room and mine. Jarvis has the guest house out back.” He giggles once more. May and Pepper stare at him flabbergasted. They’re at a complete loss of words and remain silent until Steve comes to check up on them.

“Hey, you guys ready to go—“ he pauses. “What’s wrong?” He raises an eyebrow. Tony lips fold into his mouth as tries not to let out anymore laughter. He scratches the back of his neck as he lets out a breath.

“These two,” he gestures towards May and Pepper. Steve looks at the both of them. “Had sex in my parents room.” Tony then gestures with his hands, in a jazz hand motion, the room. Steve’s eyes widen as he lets out a snort followed by a loud cackle. His back arches as his head tilts back, he wants to cover his mouth to suppress the laughter but he just can’t do it.

May’s mouth is still agape and at a standstill when Pepper rolls her eyes and gathers their suitcases. May feels the roughness of her suitcase handle in hand and Pepper’s warm, soft, hand in the other. She drags May along out the door, still hearing the loud cackling from Steve and occasional shushes from Tony.

May bounces back to reality when Jarvis stands in front of her, handing her Tupperware of goods. May nods her head, smiling. “Thank you, Jarvis”

“Anytime, miss Parker.” Jarvis leans in to hug May, she happily obliges, wrapping her arms around his slender frame. She pulls away when Jarvis moves to Pepper, hugging her as well.

“It was lovely to meet you miss Potts. You’re welcome to come here whenever you please.”

Pepper smiles. “Thank you Jarvis.”

Tony and Steve come trudging down the stairs. “Ready to go?” Steve asks before grabbing their suitcases and heads out the door, May nods her head.

Tony turns to Jarvis. “Happy Holidays, J. We should do this every year, it always gets better and better.” Tony sends a sly smirk to May as she rolls her eyes and heads in the direction Steve went. Pepper quietly follows not a minute after.

Jarvis rubs Tony’s shoulder. “We do this every year, Tony. Even with the exception of your parents.”

Tony shakes his head. “No, I know. I mean, it’s just better without them, more quiet and relaxed rather than the chaotic mess.” Jarvis hums in agreement.

“I see, sir. Well they won’t be back for another two weeks, can I expect to see you and mister Rogers before then?”

“Of course you can.” Tony smiles and hugs Jarvis.

Jarvis looks up and out the open door to see Steve waiting by the passenger side, arms across his chest, one over the other.

“I like this one.” Jarvis says quietly even though they’re the only two in the foyer. Tony wants to scream with glee, but he doesn’t. Instead, a tear slides down his cheek, he quickly wipes it away. Tony grips Jarvis’ jacket tighter, he starts to shake, knuckles turning a shade of white. All Tony has ever wanted from his parents is love, affection, and acceptance, maybe even an occasional ‘i love you.’ So far he has barely gotten any of those. That’s an understatement. The only ‘i love you’s’ he’s heard is from Jarvis, Steve, and May. And now, to hear something so pure and something he shouldn’t even ask for, from Jarvis, someone Tony absolutely adores and admires is just the thing he needed to hear this weekend.

Jarvis rubs Tony’s back comfortingly. Tony mumbles a ‘thank you’ into his neck and Jarvis smiles. They stay like that for a moment until Tony pulls away, wiping his face.

“Out of all of them, you’re the best one,Tony. I mean it.”

“Thanks, J.” Tony sends Jarvis one last glance and a smile before grabbing his backpack and is out the door. Steve uncrosses his arms and opens the passenger door for him. His eyebrows furrow and his smile is replaced with a concern look. “You okay?” He rubs Tony’s shoulder once he’s in arms length.

“Never better.” Tony says smiling. Steve ushers Tony into the car and shuts the door. Before entering the car, Steve turns back to Jarvis and waves. Jarvis smiles and nods his head. Steve puts the car in drive and backs out onto the main road. The radio plays soft 70s music that Tony silently hates but Steve knows he enjoys it from time to time. Tony grabs Steve’s hand and kisses his knuckles before rubbing a thumb gently over it. Steve side eyes Tony, keeping his eyes on the road but a warm smile plasters his face and Tony’s heart swoons in his chest.

In the backseat, May rests her head on Pepper’s shoulder. Their hands intertwined as May reads the book she brought with her. Pepper silently following along with her.

They’re in the car for over an hour and good thing they left when they did because traffic just started as they entered the city. Pulling up to the curb in front of May’s apartment complex, Steve’s puts the car in park and unlocks the trunk. He places their suitcases onto the curb.

“Thanks, Steve.” Pepper says with a smile.

“No problem.” Steve stuffs his hands in his pockets as he leans against the trunk. Pepper glances at May talking discreetly to Tony by the passenger side door.

“She’s a good one.” Steve says suddenly, breaking Pepper out of her trance.

“I know. Thank you for reminding me.” Pepper blushes as she fixes her shoulder bag. May shakes her head and chuckles to herself when she walks back to Pepper. She leans her forehead on Pepper’s shoulder. “I’m so tired.”

Pepper places a kiss on the crown of May’s head. “I know, babe. C’mon, I’m sure Milo misses you.” May’s instantly perks up and runs to the apartment door, suitcase in tow, yelling, “I hope Loki didn’t kill him!”

Tony shakes his head as Steve chuckles and Pepper sighs. “See you guys later. Get home safe.”

“Will do.” Steve sends her a salute and is in the car, pulling away from the curb as Tony waves goodbye.

Pepper meets May in front of the elevators and smiles when she sees May getting antsy, she’s jumping up and down in place.

“I can’t wait to see my baby boy!” May yells when the elevator doors let out a beeping sound. They’re in the elevator in a flash and immediately press their designated floor button. May’s still bouncing up and down, like a little kid in a candy store. The elevator lets out another beep and May runs as fast as she can to the door and unlocks it, leaving it open for Pepper who is still walking.

“Milo! Baby!” Pepper hears May and she giggles to herself. Once inside, Pepper shuts the door and places her suitcase by the door. She takes off her jacket and places it on the coatrack. Pepper heads to the kitchen to get a drink but pauses in her step when she sees a note on the counter. It’s for the both of them.

‘Dear May and Pepper,

Milo was an absolute dear. He was very lovable and affectionate and the most sweetest cat. So no, May, I didn’t kill him. He’s very much alive and waiting to see you again. You too, Pepper. I hope one day we can meet face to face, I’ve heard wonderful things. P.S; I would love to cat sit any time, any where.

Love, Loki’

“May, there’s a note here from Loki,” Pepper says as she carries the note with her to the living room. May is cuddling with Milo who has his head is resting on her chest and purrs softly. May takes the note with her free hand and reads it with a smile on his face. “I’ll text him later to say thank you.”

“And you thought something bad would happened to him,” Pepper shakes her head as she takes the empty seat next to May on the couch, petting Milo slowly. May glares at her.

“I have to take precautions, he’s my son. Ain’t that right, Milo?” She lifts him up so they’re face to face, Milo tilts his head and licks May’s nose. She grins. Pepper chuckles and Milo iears perk up at the sound. He's focused on her now as he jumps out of May’s hold and walks over her legs to Pepper and purrs.

“Yeah, sure, kid.” May rests her arm on the back of the couch, she stares at the two of them. “So, what now?”

Pepper eyes advert from Milo, who is rubbing is head on her arm, to May. “U-haul?”

May laughs. “Too soon.”

“Definitely.”

There’s a moment of silence before Pepper speaks up. “I don’t want to go home just yet.” May smiles and stands up from the couch. She puts a record on and moves the dial onto it, turning the volume up. Of course, Wham! plays softly through the speakers.

May gestures a come hither motion with her hands and Pepper can’t resist but move Milo out of her lap, he looks up at them with wide, curious, eyes. Pepper holds May’s hands as they sway together, back and forth to the beat of the music. Pepper twirls May around as she throws her head back, laughing, she pulls her in and rests her forehead against May’s. May pecks her lips before spinning around in a circle, moving her arms in the air. Pepper pauses and smiles at May dancing. Yeah, she could get use to this.

[in-this-light-on-this-evening]

99 Question Tag

@your-basket-case tagged me - thank you so much dear!!! I'm a giant sucker for tag games, so here. WE. GO.

1.DO YOU SLEEP WITH YOUR CLOSET DOORS OPEN OR CLOSED?

Actually it's always half open because I need that air to circulate hah!

2. DO YOU TAKE THE SHAMPOOS AND CONDITIONER BOTTLES FROM HOTELS?

Only if I like the smell.

3. DO YOU SLEEP WITH YOUR SHEETS TUCKED IN OR OUT?

Tucked in! How can you sleep with sheets tucked out omg?

4. HAVE YOU STOLEN A STREET SIGN BEFORE?

I WISH

5. DO YOU LIKE TO USE POST-IT-NOTES?

Hm not really. I usually keep a big notebook/notepad on my desk and I fill it with things to remember, drafts, etc

6. DO YOU CUT OUT COUPONS BUT THEN NEVER USE THEM?

We don't have as a big coupon culture here in Italy as it happens to be in America but sometimes I do!

7. WOULD YOU RATHER BE ATTACKED BY A BIG BEAR OR A SWARM OF BEES?

Bear.

8. DO YOU HAVE FRECKLES?

No but I wish I had them!

9. DO YOU ALWAYS SMILE FOR PICTURES?

For selfies yes, for other pictures not so much.

10. WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST PET PEEVE?

I have to many, honestly, but I guess Cancelled Culture and psycho stans are the biggest at the moment.

11. DO YOU EVER COUNT YOUR STEPS WHEN YOU WALK?

Maybe.

12. HAVE YOU PEED IN THE WOODS?

Yes. Traumatising experience.

13. HAVE YOU EVER POOPED IN THE WOODS?

You insane? I'm too scared of pooping in the woods.

14. I think I deleted this question on accident.

Lost in time and spaaace!

15. DO YOU CHEW YOUR PENS AND PENCILS?

Chewing pens and pencils? In this economy?

16. HOW MANY PEOPLE HAVE YOU SLEPT WITH THIS WEEK?

3 with my imaginary lover.

17. WHAT SIZE IS YOUR BED?

I think it's an European King sized but I'm not 100% sure. I WANT THE CEASAR ONE.

18. WHAT IS YOUR SONG OF THE WEEK?

Hm, I'm still losing my mind over "Almost (Sweet Music)" by Hozier but I just discovered the new James Blake's album and that, as a whole, is a big mood for this week as well.

19. IS IT OK FOR GUYS TO WEAR PINK?

Bitch yes?

20. DO YOU STILL WATCH CARTOONS?

Sometimes.

21. WHAT IS YOUR LEAST FAVORITE MOVIE?

Hm, nothing comes to my mind at the moment.

22. WHERE WOULD YOU BURY HIDDEN TREASURE IF YOU HAD SOME?

I can't tell you. It wouldn't be hidden anymore although:

23. WHAT DO YOU DRINK WITH DINNER?

Diet coke or water because I'm too broke for wine.

24. WHAT DO YOU DIP A CHICKEN NUGGET IN?

Nothing. I die like men.

25. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE FOOD?

Sushi, pizza, pierogi, carbonara, tomato & corn salad, fried mozzarella, tiramisù.

26. WHAT MOVIES COULD YOU WATCH OVER AND OVER AGAIN AND STILL LOVE?

Stardust, Dead Poets Society, Mean Girls, Little Miss Sunshine

27. LAST PERSON YOU KISSED/KISSED YOU?

A guy that broke my heart last year.

28. WERE YOU EVER A BOY/GIRL SCOUT?

Yes!

29. WOULD YOU EVER STRIP OR POSE NUDE IN A MAGAZINE?

If I wasn't an ugly potato... yes.

30. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU WROTE A LETTER TO SOMEONE ON PAPER?

2 years ago, I think.

31. CAN YOU CHANGE THE OIL ON A CAR?

32. EVER GOTTEN A SPEEDING TICKET?

Who do you think I am? A redneck?

33. EVER RAN OUT OF GAS?

No.

34. WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE KIND OF SANDWICH?

Rye bread + thin spread of cream cheese + lettuce + thin slices of chicken or smoked ham + tomatoes + red onion + pickled artichoke

35. BEST THING TO EAT FOR BREAKFAST?

Granola. Dry. Straight from your hand as if you're a starving horse in disguise.

36. WHAT IS YOUR USUAL BEDTIME?

00:00-01:00AM

37. ARE YOU LAZY?

I'm not lazy. I procrastinate.

38. WHEN YOU WERE A KID, WHAT DID YOU DRESS UP AS FOR HALLOWEEN?

Back in time Halloween wasn't a thing in Poland, so unfortunately I didn't dress up.

39. WHAT IS YOUR CHINESE ASTROLOGICAL SIGN?

I'M A HORSE.

40. HOW MANY LANGUAGES CAN YOU SPEAK?

3: Italian, Polish and English

41. DO YOU HAVE ANY MAGAZINE SUBSCRIPTIONS?

Nein, but I'd like to get Wired subscription.

42. WHICH ARE BETTER: LEGOS OR LINCOLN LOGS?

What are even Lincoln Logs... Did Lincoln harvest the logs himself, though?

43. ARE YOU STUBBORN?

Yes and no. Depends on the situation.

44. WHO IS BETTER: LENO OR LETTERMAN?

My tit.

45. EVER WATCH SOAP OPERAS?

Not anymore.

46. ARE YOU AFRAID OF HEIGHTS?

Not really. But if I find myself on the edge of something high without a fence, I'll probably panic and casually fall down.

47. DO YOU SING IN THE CAR?

Do I sing? No. I PERFORM.

48. DO YOU SING IN THE SHOWER?

Only when I'm home alone.

49. DO YOU DANCE IN THE CAR?

Yeah, sometimes when the inspiration and the right bop kick in.

50. EVER USED A GUN?

A glue gun.

51. LAST TIME YOU GOT A PORTRAIT TAKEN BY A PHOTOGRAPHER?

Does the mugshot for the drivers licence count?

52. DO YOU THINK MUSICALS ARE CHEESY?

Depends.

53. IS CHRISTMAS STRESSFUL?

The concept by itself isn't stressful. My family tends to ruin it with the overdramatic stress.

54. EVER EAT A PIEROGI?

BITCH THAT'S MY MOTHERLAND'S MEAL WE SNIFF THAT SHIT LIKE COCAINE.

55. FAVORITE TYPE OF FRUIT PIE?

Apple, rhubarb, pear.

56. OCCUPATIONS YOU WANTED TO BE WHEN YOU WERE A KID?

Doctor, fashion designer, archeologist, paleonthologist...

57. DO YOU BELIEVE IN GHOSTS?

Yes. I've had paranormal experiences and I'm still not over it.

58. EVER HAVE A DEJA-VU FEELING?

Very often.

59. DO YOU TAKE A VITAMIN DAILY?

No. I die like men.

60. DO YOU WEAR SLIPPERS?

Yes!

61. DO YOU WEAR A BATH ROBE?

I don't have any but I would like to wear one of those super cozy and soft ones!

62. WHAT DO YOU WEAR TO BED?

Hmm, depends. Now I'm wearing a hoodie, leggings and socks because it's cold as fuck.

63. WHAT WAS YOUR FIRST CONCERT?

I'm pretty sure it was DeMono, a Polish band. I casually saw them with my parents when we were on holiday back in 1997.

64. WALMART, TARGET, OR KMART?

I'M NOT AMERICAN BITCH. TESCO.

65. NIKE OR ADIDAS?

Both actually!

66. CHEETOS OR FRITOS?

What the fuck are FRITOS? I've never tried them, so I can't answer lol!

67. PEANUTS OR SUNFLOWER SEEDS?

BOTH. I'm a sucker for NUTS.

68. EVER HEAR OF THE GROUP TRES BIEN?

Of what now? Is this another American thing I'm not aware of because of my ancient and unbothered European nature?

69. EVER TAKE DANCE LESSONS?

Nein!

70. IS THERE A PROFESSION YOU PICTURE YOUR FUTURE SPOUSE DOING?

I don't care, really. I do care about them doing what they love and want to do. If they'll be happy about it, so will I :')

71. CAN YOU CURL YOUR TONGUE?

Sí, señor!

72. EVER WON A SPELLING BEE?

We don't have this in Europe asdfkgkf

73. HAVE YOU EVER CRIED BECAUSE YOU WERE SO HAPPY?

Kind of.

74. OWN ANY RECORD ALBUMS?

I have regular cd's but I would love to start a vinyl record collection.

75. OWN A RECORD PLAYER?

Not yet!

76. DO YOU REGULARLY BURN INCENSE?

I used to but I don't do that anymore.

77. EVER BEEN IN LOVE?

Yes but nobody loved me back.

78. WHO WOULD YOU LIKE TO SEE IN CONCERT?

QUEEN. On the more possible side: Andrea Boccelli, The Struts, George Ezra, MORE HOZIER, The Killers, Arctic Monkeys... The list goes on!

79. WHAT WAS THE LAST CONCERT YOU SAW?

HOZIER. It was a magical experience, I love him so much, I want to cry 😭♥️

80. HOT TEA OR COLD TEA?

Both.

81. TEA OR COFFEE?

Tea.

82. SUGAR COOKIES OR SNICKERDOODLES?

Both.

83. CAN YOU SWIM WELL?

Avarage just so I don't die sucked into the abyss.

84. CAN YOU HOLD YOUR BREATH WITHOUT HOLDING YOUR NOSE?

Wait, people CAN'T do that? What dysfunction do you have? It's literally so easy?

85. ARE YOU PATIENT?

Yes, very much but in the last couple of years I've started slowly losing my shit in certain situations.

86. DJ OR BAND AT A WEDDING?

Band.

87. EVER WON A CONTEST?

No. I'm an avarage bitch that thinks she's more than that but the truth is that I'm not a winner.

88. HAVE YOU EVER HAD PLASTIC SURGERY?

Does the surgery on my toe count?

89. WHICH ARE BETTER: BLACK OR GREEN OLIVES?

BLACK

90. CAN YOU KNIT OR CROCHET?

Not yet but I will learn at some point!

91. BEST ROOM FOR A FIREPLACE?

Living room.

92. DO YOU WANT TO GET MARRIED?

If I meet the love of my life then yes. The bar is too high, though, so I'm not sure if that's gonna happen haha!

93. IF MARRIED, HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN MARRIED?

/

94. WHO WAS YOUR HIGH SCHOOL CRUSH?

His name was William and that was the most embarrassing moment of my life because a bitch that considered herself as my "friend" told everybody that I had a crush on him. When he got to know it, he basically humiliated me in front of the entire clique, if not the whole school. I hate him ever since and it's been already 10 years or so.

95. DO YOU CRY AND THROW A FIT UNTIL YOU GET YOUR OWN WAY?

No.

96. DO YOU HAVE KIDS?

My dog is my son.

97. DO YOU WANT KIDS?

Kids? In this economy? On this planet? Just for my liking? Absolutely fucking not. That would be a crime and absolute torture for them and I don't want them to suffer as I do.

98. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE COLOR?

Black, emerald green, gold, yellow, purple.

99. DO YOU MISS ANYONE RIGHT NOW?

Freddie Mercury.

I tag: @santonicababy, @chaotic-pansexual, @songparade, @fossa-poplitea and everybody else who wants to do this! :’D

[artificialqueens]

Isn’t it lovely...pt.2 {biadore} - imafuckinglibra

“Ask, and it shall be given you.” - Someone from the Bible probably somewhere idfk.

“Ask and daddy will write it for you.” - imafuckinglibra. (Can you tell I’ve been listening to Bianca’s audiobook on repeat?)

Dear anon, Yes I read notes. And that goes to everyone else sending me notes, both of you. So here is a bonus chapter about what happened after Danny posted the selfie in the last chapter. You don’t necessarily need to read the last chapter to understand anything here but it might help context wise so go ahead idk I’m not a scientist. XOXO - k bye

“How the fuck ya’ll doing!” Bianca yelled loudly into the mic at the cheering sea of people walking out onto the stage. “Since it takes Visage a good fucking 3 hours to fit those titties into her dress I have to be the one to do her fucking job. Fucking douche.”

The crowd cheered at her shady comment about the usual MC as she slapped the big blue cards labeled with the bubbly ‘snatch game’ logo on her palm to straighten them out.

“Before something else goes wrong let’s bring these assholes on stage and get it over with!” She quipped stepping back from the curtains to allow the other queens an easy entrance.

Without wasting time she introduced the other queens, or celebrities, as they had to be referred to for snatch game. First up it was Sharon as her now iconic Joan Rivers, next Manilla as Madonna and then Alaska as her, weirdly very accurate, Laganja.

“And of course we saved the 2nd best for last, because she lost, Adore Delano!”

Bianca called the last queen’s name out ignoring the few aw’s from the crowd and watched as the younger queen skip out onto the stage in her grungy make up, oversized flannel and bright red wig nearly falling off her high chair when she went to sit down.

“Idiot.” She mumbled under her breath away from the mic giving the audience a second to calm down as Adore waved enthusiastically at them between throwing Cheetos their way.

She tried to remain as professional as possible and keep her distance from the younger but had found herself a few times between questions wandering back to the end of the line next to Adore.

Every so often the grungy queen, who was eating Cheetos out of a bag almost bigger than her, would make faces at her between answers distracting her from what the other contestants were saying.

“Oh, fuck you! It’s comedy!” Sharon drawled on in her shakey impression of Joan’s voice after the audience gasped at her Bruce Jenner comment.

“Alright beautiful.” Bianca intervened before Sharon could add anything else, throwing a shady expression her direction to keep a straight face so she could read the next question.

Hearing her answers a million times never got old, neither did her lame impression. For some reason it always hit her right in the funny bone and once or twice in the bus after a few drinks Sharon had used it against her.

Somewhere on one of their fellow tour mate’s phones a video of them drunk off their asses going “O-oh.” repeatedly existed. A video which she prayed never fell into the wrong hands.

“Uh, Adore, I just want to say I feel like you were coming for me.” Alaska jumped in before she could even look at the card for the next question.

Bianca turned away from the audience and started laughing loudly just from the sheer stupidity of the back and forth happening between Alaska and Adore after Adore’s high pitched. “When?”

Even just the memory of actually being there during the real exchange of words till this day made her piss herself because of how ridiculous it was, especially Laganja’s llama face during it all.

“Okay! Focus people, let’s get this shit over with for fucks sake. Hedda the Hoarder is such a…fuck you cunt.” She snapped spinning around quickly when she felt something falling out of her wig.

The hushed giggling from the audience turned into a loud eruption of laughter as she stared down the culprit who was grinning mischievously back at her with her hand still hovering mid air.

Adore quickly grabbed another bigger piece from the bag and placed it halfway between her teeth wiggling her eyebrows playfully.

“No.” Bianca broke face and shook her head but Adore didn’t let up. She simply continued wiggling her painted black brows.

Damn this bitch had her wrapped around her finger.

She caved and almost hesitatingly leaned forward biting into the cheesy snack, their lips grazing over each other lightly in the process but Bianca never allowed them to fully touch and give Adore the satisfaction of a kiss.

Which wasn’t easy that’s for shit sure.

They’d been on the Battle of the Seasons tour for about a month and in that time they’ve only had one night off where they could stay in a hotel thus far.

Being in different bunks separate from each other and unable to find any privacy had taken a drastic toll on both.

In the year since Adore, or Danny, had posted the photo of them together and not so subtly announced their relationship to the world they’d only been separated for a few nights. Not being able to touch her love or even share a bed was doing things to her Bianca would rather not speak off.

Once Bianca pulled back after biting into the Cheeto Adore did a quick little victory dance in a small circle.

“Yeah I eat. Okay here we go.” She quipped at the cheering people but when the stickiness of the snack started coating the roof of her mouth making it hard to chew or even speak she had to turn to the back of the stage.

“You okay, babe?” Adore quietly asked behind her.

“Food.” She brushed off the other’s concern and deadpanned smacking her lips. “Here we go.”

When she still couldn’t talk she turned away again trying to contain her own laughter. She saw Adore peering slightly to one side laughing at her. “You fucking look like a poodle eating peanut butter.”

“I’m not use to that.” Bianca started laughing along in the way she usually did right before a shady comment. “We don’t do that when we have money.”

There it was - the shade.

Adore, who was picking up a Cheeto that she failed to catch in her mouth, sprung up like an angry emo meerkat and glared at her popping the dropped treat into her mouth.

She quickly moved on through everyone’s answers and made her way back to the start of the queue at Adore. Eyeing her suspiciously in case she dropped a cheeto on her again before she asked the next question.

“The city of Las Vegas is so queer, the mounted police ride…”

After Adore’s very classy burp for an answer she wiped off her mic against her gown. Milking the moment by pulling a few shady faces and making a comment about never thinking she’d be excited to hear what Manilla had to say as she made her way between the 2 queens.

Just as she started repeating the question to Manilla Adore rested her head on her shoulder sending butterflies through her stomach.

Being out in public in drag still felt oddly taboo despite neither of them ever really shying away from any form of pda when they were out of drag.

She ignored the fluttering in her tummy and continued reading the question off the cardboard cue cards. In the split second before Manilla could answer Adore, with her chin resting on her sequined shoulder, whispered in her ear. “Quick kiss?”

She titled her head slightly for a quick peck just in time for Madonna to answer with Coco Montrese.

“And that was our snatch game our winner tonight is…who the fuck cares!” Bianca shouted after moving through Alaska and Sharon’s last answers as swiftly as possible.

But as she was saying goodbye thanking all the girls a final time she felt something scratchy slide off her shoulder and instinctively shot back already knowing who’s responsible. “Fuck you did you put food on me?”

“3 times.” Adore behind her smiled biting her lip.

“You did not? Party, pizza, it’s cool. Chola.” She channeled her inner Adore as best as possible singsonging random catchphrases as the younger started slowly exiting with the rest.

Bianca’s stare lingered in the bitchiest face she could manage watching the other queens disappearing behind the curtains before she ran back to the front of the stage to go in for the kill.

“I’m traveling with these people for a fucking month, girl. This is fucked up goddammit.” She pointed to the curtains unable to resist throwing in her last bit of shade before she jogged off after the others to go change as well.

“You’re going to have Cheeto hair now.” Adore turned in her heels holding her arms out when she noticed Bianca approaching behind her.

“Don’t do it again cunt.” Bianca snapped waving a finger in front of her face and giving her a quick kiss before shooing her along to the dressing room. “Now back to work. Go, bitch, go.”

-

“Adore, you ready?”

“Mh-yep.” The tall queen enthusiastically smiled as she skipped towards the big black couch in the little area set aside backstage for the girls to get ready in.

After the show they had to do a casual interview with some people from MTV about being on tour.

It consisted of 4 parts - how to throw shade, what makes a good selfie, high school yearbook awards and then a final one focusing on Adore Delano and her latest album.

The girls were all huddled in a corner watching the interviewer pull Adore to one side, Bianca however was standing so close to the cameraman she was practically closer to him than his shadow.

She warmly greeted the girl half her size already sitting down and the questions began.

“Hi, I’m Lana Cummings here from MTV and I’m here with season 6 finalist of RuPaul’s Drag Race and drag’s pop princess, the ever so lovely Adore Delano.”

Adore held her hand under her chin waving her fingers in true childish Adore fashion. “Meow meow.”

“It feels like this is the most you’ve sat down in the last, I don’t know, year, isn’t it? You’ve been pretty busy.”

“Yeah man, I um, I released my album Whatever last year. And I just finished the first half of my tour and now I’m doing this and when I’m done I’ll probably be going back on tour with my band again. Gotta make that money, money, money though you know?” She singsonged flashing her brightest smiled while fiddling with the zipper on her half zipped onesie with the sleeves tied around her waist.

Adore had untucked and gotten out of her costume the minute that curtain went down as always so when they asked her for the interview she simply slipped into one of Bianca’s onesies and a t-shirt.

“Now, speaking of your tour and the fact that you’re wearing a BDR onesie.” As she spoke Adore’s eyes flicked up at Bianca trying to hide her smile at the sight of the older queen panicking. “You and Bianca Del Rio, winner of season 6 of Drag Race, also announced your relationship last year and have since been labeled the power couple of drag.”

“Apparently, yeah.” Adore flipped some hair off her shoulder.

“I know she’s just as busy, how do you find time to even have a relationship because I mean you seem to be doing very well.”

“A lot of pissed off agents.” Adore started laughing hiding her mouth behind her hand.

“I can imagine, you’re referring to the last leg of your tour I’m assuming? She joined you this time on it, didn’t she?”

“Yeah she did, which has been totally awesome by the way.”

As she was talking about the last year of their relationship Adore started thinking back on all the sacrifices they’ve had to make since.

They had reworked their schedules, adding a few new shows here and there to their individual tours to allow them some time together. It wasn’t easy though, it meant once or twice Bianca would stay in a town for 3 days waiting just so Adore could come perform and they’d spend one night together.

It went on like that for the last 6 months of Bianca’s comedy tour till it finished and she could join Adore full time on the final 2 months of her tour.

Unfortunately that meant they had a very limited time back home to be together, a ‘real couple’, before they joined the rest of their sisters on the BOTS tour.

The real problem was that they were both severe workaholics with an annoying habit of never saying no to a job which was putting a strain on their relationship - physically that is.

2 weeks of no intimacy and Adore was already threatening to jump out of the bus into oncoming traffic.

Luckily for everyone’s sanity, not just the over eager love birds, it was finally an off weekend. They’d get to stay in a hotel for the night after the show before it was on to the next state.

“How has that worked? I mean isn’t she coming out with another movie? And I heard rumors of a book?” The reporter pulled her back from her thinking.

“The movie they had already wrapped filming on when we started touring so that wasn’t really a problem, but it comes out…” She quickly leaned back a little to look at Bianca for an answer. “May 18th! It comes out May 18th. And then yeah, she’s also been like writing a book and has these make up wipes coming out and shit, which are really good! Everyone go buy them. I want to go on a vacation after this.”

Bianca dropped her shaking head into her palm making Adore giggle even more.

“That’s amazing definitely be on a look out there! Back to you a little, you’ve always been very…open, with fans. Very candid. Has that changed since you’ve become public as a couple or how has fans received the news?”

“Um no, I don’t think it’s changed to be honest. I think like a lot of fans are sad because I don’t hook up with them anymore but for the most part everyone’s like, I knew it! I just think my fans are happy that I’m happy.” She smiled at her love proudly watching her, the hint of jealousy Adore was expecting after the hooking up comment twinkling in her eyes. “And that old fuck makes me very happy.”

She wasn’t lying, she was genuinely happy

After coming out to the public and drag fans around the world they’d only gotten closer. Adore had less panic attacks and freak outs about stress and Bianca actually took more time off from work to take care of herself too.

“Because I’m gonna’ die soon and she gets the cash.” Bianca chimed in with a scowl making everyone in the room laugh.

Adore blew her a kiss which she returned with a wink before they continued on with the rest of her interview.

-

“Well done ladies! Enjoy your free time and I’ll see you lot on the bus first thing in the morning!” Michelle raised her glass of champagne when the crew left and the ladies could all finish becoming themselves again.

The now half dedragged queens all raised their various beverages ranging from a diet coke to vodka and everything in between, everyone enthusiastically clinking them together.

“I cannot tell you how fucking relieved I am to finally get to sleep in a real bed.” Sharon sighed with a hint of laughter coming through when Adore dropped down next to her to finish turning back into Danny.

“Sames though.” The younger queen agreed looking up in the reflection at Bianca who was allowing Courtney to peel off her lashes.

“Well at least you have people to share a real bed with.” Courtney handed Bianca her lashes and looked over at Adore.

“That is true.” Bianca winked at her making the younger blush, seeing her so openly acknowledging their relationship made her heart light.

Getting to be an official couple had turned out even better than Danny had ever hoped it would. Sure Roy was a little ticked off in the beginning about how they - he, did it but that wasn’t long lived.

They spent the majority of the first month or so dealing with their relationship being the only question that would be asked in interviews or meet & greets with fans.

And whenever a fan would spot them together either at a show or just exploring whatever city they were in they’d usually get the same reactions.

“I knew it! Biadore was real!“

Or

“But what about so and so? I thought you’d make a way better ship.”

But they learned to brush it off fairly easily enough and continue on with their daily life. A daily life which Danny now sorely missed.

Being on tour with his friends and now his love was amazing, but he could finally 100% sympathize with why Sharon took Chad everywhere. The few months of touring without his man was torture.

“You done yet?” Roy’s hands on his shoulders knocked him out of his daydreaming.

“Mh-hm.” Danny nodded looking at them both in the reflection now fresh faced again.

“Anyone want to share an Uber?” Aaron asked handing Chad, who’s scrawny arms were already full, another one of his bags.

“We going to the club? That one we passed with the naked trade up front?” Jason, now dressed in his usual club outfit with his 50’s bad boy curl, chimed in.

“Yes, we’ll meet up with you there.” Aaron and Chad both agreed.

“It okay if we sit this one out?” Roy kissed Danny’s cheek.

“You guys don’t mind?”

“You do you.” Courtney shrugged but quickly turned red, “Not like that.”

“Or yes like that.” Jason grinned.

“Fuck you. See you bitches tomorrow.” Roy greeted the other queens off to their night out

-

They opted to walk back to the hotel instead of sharing the ride with Aaron and Chad so they could take in a bit more of the beautiful European city.

With Roy’s hand in the back pocket of Danny’s saggy grey jeans and the other holding his phone checking through his social media the couple made their way through the busy streets lit up with the locals chattering outside restaurants and bars.

Roy enjoyed moments like these. Simple moments of affection or privacy that every day couples took for granted.

Sure they weren’t Kardashian level famous but still, if they were simply walking around Hollywood like this they’d be stopped by drag fans around ever corner asking for selfies or a moment of their time.

Getting to just be with Danny in peace for once was almost relaxing, especially after nearly 2 years of only getting to sneak around in dodgy club bathrooms.

“Can you believe it’s been a fucking year?” Danny commented, clearly having the same thoughts haunting him. “Like when that reporter mentioned it I was a little like what the fuck for real?”

“Year and a half.”

“Really?” Danny looked at what Roy was scrolling through and saw it was the now infamous selfie he posted. “507 days. Year and some change. Wow.”

“Three years if you count the stuff before that.” Roy casually added.

“I don’t even think I own furniture that old.”

“You regretting your decisions there, Noriega?”

“Nope.” Danny kissed his temple. “I like being with you.”

“Oh yeah? What do you like?” Roy smiled.

“That you make me really good food or like cuddle me every morning instead of letting me get out of bed so I have an excuse to be lazy or late. Or taking bathtubs with me every night. Or throwing the blankie over me when I fall asleep on the couch. Or taking my make up off for me at the end of the night if I’m too loaded.”

Roy watched Danny’s expression soften and his eyes light up as his mind worked out more examples. It was nice to know that Danny felt the same way about him or that he was at least needed.

“Your mom likes me.” Roy added one of his own.

“That’s because you’re the same person.” Danny laughed making Roy blush.

He couldn’t fight the facts, they had the same personality and no bullshit approached to life which made it easy for them to bond fairly quickly. They even called each other once a day to complain to one other either about Danny needing a haircut or if he was eating healthily enough.

Bonnie had welcomed him into their family long before they ever went public. Not to mention when they did she was the first to text them with wedding plans, honeymoon locations, joined names, baby names, matching I heart my daddies outfits for the dogs - everything.

God knows how long she’d been planning all that shit.

“That looks so good.” Danny commented stopping dead in his tracks. Roy looked up from his phone to see what he was drooling at.

He had to resist the urge to roll his eyes when he saw the object of Danny’s admiration was a conveyer belt of pizzas. “Want one?”

Danny nodded enthusiastically running over to the shop and Roy followed behind digging in his backpack for his wallet.

With Danny’s face pressed up against the sneeze guard and Roy hand’s lazily petting his back they went through all the options searching for which looked the best.

“Adore Delano!” They heard a girl behind then yelling in a thick British accent.

“Oh my god! It’s Bianca too!”

“Can we take a picture?” The first girl asked and without really giving them a chance to answer the pair and their friend pulled out their phones.

Danny and Roy looked awkwardly at each other as each girl took a queen by the arm and snapped a shot or two of them all together.

“Thank you so much!” The second girl started squealing looking at her phone already posting the picture.

“Take one of us too?” Danny, as gullibly naive as always, handed one of them Roy’s phone after grabbing it right out of hands.

Danny struck a pose next to the pizza with his elbow resting against the sneeze guard and Roy following his lead just showcased the pizza of Danny’s dreams. He knew there was no use in fighting it anyway.

The girls thanked them for being so gracious and almost as quickly as they appeared they ran away giggling amongst themselves.

As soon as they were out of earshot Danny turned his attention back to the pizzas and pointed at which slice he wanted.

“Really queen?” Roy asked scowling at him when he smiled back at him after ordering.

“Why you mad?”

“Don’t just fucking hand people my phone you idiot.” Roy scolded and quickly payed the man behind the counter, thanking him for posing too when they took the photos.

“I trust my fans.”

“I don’t even trust you.”

“That’s mean. You’re mean.” Danny took an aggressive bite from his treat.

“It good?” Roy wanted to make a shady comment about his childish behavior but the way his face lit up in bliss was just too cute.

“Tho good.” Danny took another big bite and closed his eyes chewing. “I’d thrade your dick for thiths pizza anyday.”

“Oh?” Roy raised a brow taking the pizza away from Danny and helping himself to a bite. “Well then fuck you you can sleep out here tonight.”

“No! I’m sorry, I’ll never disrespect your dick again.” Danny quickly tried taking back what he said embracing Roy.

“No, no. It’s too late. You’ve had your chance.”

“But daddy.” Danny whined pushing his bottom lip out.

“Ugh fine.” Roy rolled his eyes and pushed him off looking for their room key when they approached the hotel lobby. “But I’m topping this time.”

“But you look so cute when I’m topping.”

“Oh now I’m ugly too? Shady cunt.”

“Only when you’re mean.” Danny shrugged.

Roy snorted and pushed him into the elevator. Once the doors behind them shut he pressed Danny up against the wall and grabbed his dick through his pants.

“Careful. You’re not exactly getting in my good books here.” He growled palming him.

“Then you’ll have to fuck me till I learn my place.” Danny moved his hips up to meet Roy’s warm hand, feeling his underwear growing snugger.

Roy reached his hand inside the loose denim hanging around his waist and took hold of the head of Danny’s cock, giving it a squeeze. “You know what today is don’t you.”

“Uh-huh.” Danny nodded hissing softly when Roy’s thumb started stroking the fabric in circles. The friction against the sensitive head of his cock almost painful yet extremely pleasurable.

They heard the door pinging indicating they were approaching their floor and Roy quickly pulled his hand out just in time for the doors to open.

Instead he took hold of Danny’s hand and lead the giggling younger queen to their hotel room struggling to contain his own need for him any longer.

Once they were behind the locked door clothes began viciously flying over heads, starting with Roy’s jacket till only his pants and Danny’s tiny black briefs remained.

Danny got down on his knees to slide down the pesky joggers Roy was wearing that were getting in the way of him and his dick.

The rushed nature of their moment simmered down when their eyes met and something different than arousal ignited inside them both.

“Happy anniversary, my sweet.” The small glimmer in the brown of Roy’s eyes and the soft curving of his dimples around a faint smile as he said it reminded Danny that they didn’t have to worry about being caught anymore.

This was real. It was their anniversary and they were really a real couple. No rushing, no hushed I love yous, no hiding their commitment. It was like they were free.

“Happy anniversary.” Danny stood up and their pumped lips tenderly brushing over each other said the rest for them.

Once he felt Roy’s erection twitch against his Danny sunk back down to the task at hand that was previously interrupted.

Kissing between his hipbones first, savoring every slight quiver of Roy’s body as his lips placed gentle pecks all along the heated tan skin.

Slowly he pulled his boxers down kissing the newly exposed skin as he went till it was finally lowered enough to let his dick free.

Immediately when Roy’s dick sprung up Danny grabbed the head in his mouth making Roy release a very relieved sigh.

His hand stroking him off while his tongue continued lavishing the head with as much affection possible he looked up at Roy watching the lust pooling in his eyes.

With a sneaky smile he flattened out his tongue and trailed his cock along it till he it reached the tip of his tongue and he licked up any pre cum slowly oozing out. Watching Roy’s patience dwindling more each second.

Roy threw his head back when Danny took him in his mouth again, working him in further inch by inch with every pass of his head’s bops.

His painted nails scratching gently along the shivering tan thigh when he took him all in, holding the thick cock down his throat looking up at Roy for approval and the permission to pull back.

“That’s it, good boy.” Roy ran his fingers through his hair before pulling him back up by his jaw to resume their tender make out session. Their tongues leisurely dancing over and around each other as their hands felt up their bodies.

While Roy’s hands were exploring the sides of his slim waist Danny took him by the hand and lead him to the lusher than average hotel bed.

Going to lie down on his back with his hands cupping Roy’s face they drew out the moment for as long as possible. Simply enjoying every second of being together again at last.

Roy hovering over him with his hand snaking along Danny’s torso, his belly and down his inner thigh before traveling back up made the younger shiver with anticipation.

Danny was the first to cave and tear himself away from his lover with a smile before flipping himself over. Resting on his stomach wiggling his ass at Roy telling him exactly what to do without using his words.

Roy tried hiding his slight chuckling at Danny’s eagerness making him grind his hips into the sheets telling him to hurry it up. Instead he took his time pulling Danny’s underwear off caressing his cheeks after discarding the briefs. “I missed this ass. This perfect little impatient ass.”

“I can’t help it, being without you is actual torture. I hate it” Danny whined.

“I know baby.” Roy pulled his cheeks apart just enough to kiss around his entrance.

Danny lifted his ass every time he’d feel his lips against him in an attempt to get him closer to his target.

Eventually Roy couldn’t keep up his teasing any longer and started first by kissing his asshole gently before his tongue went to work. Every time he’d lick around the small pink muscle it made Danny whimper.

His whimpers soon turning lower and lower till they were full blown moans when Roy’s pointed tongue entered him.

“Please.” Danny breathed into the sheets looking back at him. “Your bag I think.”

Roy kissed his ass a final time and quickly reached behind him searching for the bag next to the bed. While he hunted for the lube Danny rotated himself again so he’d be on his back, stroking himself while he waited.

Roy resumed his position over him with his knees resting between his legs. While making out again Roy massaged his hole with his thumb now drenched in heavy pink lube.

Danny brought his legs up against his chest when Roy eventually began lubing himself up as well.

Now simply staring at each other Roy gradually began entering him, watching Danny’s mouth drop open wider the further he pushed himself in.

“You good?” Roy asked as he started rolling his hips very slowly. Barely moving at first to allow Danny’s asshole to adjust again after their 2 weeks of forced celibacy.

“Mh-hm.” Danny nodded running his hands up from his thighs to pull his ass into him trying to get more.

Roy’s shallow thrusting began picking up pace when the tight asshole enveloping him relaxed at last.

Not long after the dimly lit room filled with a symphony of bodies slapping and the joined moans of both men so starved for intimacy finally getting what they most needed.

“Kiss me.” Danny whispered between pants.

Roy bent down to kiss him with as much intensity as his hips slapping into him while his hands on Danny’s ribs kept him pinned down.

With the younger’s legs over Roy’s shoulders he could fully enter him with ease. The force of his body driving every inch of his dick into him not only driving Roy completely wild but also very clearly Danny but the way he was gripping the sheets.

“Harder.” He pleaded closing his eyes. His fingers around the fabric only clenching tighter when his thrusts turned deeper, more forceful as asked.

Knowing exactly how down right evil it would be to tease Danny like this when his orgasm was building up a steady momentum Roy sat back on his knees.

Danny however surprised him by simply opening his legs and with a smile he took matters into his own hands - literally. With a firm grip around his dick he began jerking himself off while a now slightly thrown off Roy added more lube onto his cock.

“Enjoying the view?” Danny raised a smug brow watching Roy following his lead. Stroking himself as well, staring with a somewhat proud expression at the hand jacking himself off.

“You’re so fucking stunning.” Roy praised in a low, hungry voice, running his fingers along Danny’s inner thigh. “And so is your beautiful fucking cock.”

While Roy continued working himself he leaned down into Danny’s spread lap and took as much of his cock into his mouth as possible. “Ah shit…” Danny dropped his head into the pillows when Roy’s well experienced mouth began sucking him off. Hollowing his cheeks as his head bopped in rhythm with his hand.

The way he twisted his head every time his mouth closed back around the tip of his cock before enveloping his entire member only made Danny unbelievably desperate. “Fuck me please. Please, Daddy.”

Roy smirked victoriously for getting him to beg, he knew Danny only called him daddy like that when he was truly unable to contain himself.

Keeping his hands on Danny’s hips to help guide him Roy reinserted himself back into his tight hole.

Being just as impatient as his love at this point he wasted no time in picking up his previous pace immediately, disregarding the body trembling beneath him from the sudden intrusion.

“Oh fuck me.” Danny breathed out, his eyes locked between their bodies to watch his ass getting pounded. “Fuck that’s good.”

“Keep playing with yourself.” Roy instructed and Danny happily obliged still jerking himself off. “Good boy.”

Fueled by the guttural moans coming from the younger Roy’s shallow thrusting quickly morphed into deep deliberate strokes, hammering himself balls deep into his ass as he began feverishly kissing his neck again.

Gnawing at the heated skin below his jaw, at the spot he knew all to well could turn Danny into jelly in mere seconds.

“I’m going to cum.”

“When?” Roy’s nails dug into the soft skin of his hips allowing him to pick up the tempo of his movements again. “Soon.”

“Tell me when.” When Danny didn’t respond Roy pulled his attention back to him with his fingers digging into his chin so he could look straight into his hooded hazel eyes. “Answer me.”

Danny nodded, unable to form words from the tightness in his abdomen growing unbearable. He lifted his head up so they could kiss again as he pushed him back slowly into a seated position without ever letting his cock slip out.

Roy leaned back with his hands holding onto the sheets behind him as Danny took over, bouncing vigorously onto his lap desperate to finally climax.

The head now buried in Roy’s shoulder and teeth biting into whatever flesh it could find leaving red teeth marks all along his collarbone and up his neck was enough to tell Roy exactly what was about to happen even before his warning.

“Babe.” Danny cried.

Roy hastily pushed him off onto his back and lunged between Danny’s legs to take his cock in his mouth before it was too late.

Danny instinctively grabbed hold of his short black hair with both hands, bucking his hips up to shoot his load down Roy’s throat with a final few high pitched grunts.

“That’s it.” Roy praised squeezing the tip of Danny’s still pulsing cock to work out the last of his cum careful not to let any go to waste.

The gorgeous view from where he was sitting was nearly enough to make him bust his load right then and there as well.

He still couldn’t fathom how the gorgeous young man on his back, squinting through slightly glossed over eyes with his puffy plump lips wide open was really his.

Roy let go slowly of his cock licking the last remnants of his orgasm off his lips when Danny brought his hand down to caress his cheekbone with the back of his knuckles.

“Roy. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Roy smiled and began attempting to make his way back up Danny’s body when the younger stopped him.

“Wait,” Danny pushed himself up with shakey limbs and rolled over. Playfully wiggling his round ass in front of Roy’s face again. “Show me.”

“You still good for more?” Roy asked giving the bubbly ass a good hard spank.

“Always.” Danny bit his lip.

“Up against the wall.”

Danny obeyed and scooted on his knees over to the headboard with his hands resting above it as Roy reinserted himself behind him.

“I really do love you, so so much.” Roy emphasized every word with a bite along his nape. Covering the orange butterfly tattoo with small kisses as he resumed his thrusting.

Showing Danny exactly how much he needed him with every rapid slap of his body against his. His arms clinging around his waist as tightly as the pressure was building between his legs.

“I want you to cum inside me.” Danny whispered looking back at him.

His seductive words sent straight electricity down Roy’s spine. His hand held Danny’s head up exposing his reddened neck both from his arousal and the hickeys already forming on it.

“Dirty fucker.” He breathed against one of the faded bruises from their first night in a hotel on tour before clamping onto the skin again.

“Mmh your dirty fucker.” Danny mused licking his top lip.

“You are mine.” Roy said softer, the nature of his words and the heavy slams against his ass contrasting each other.

“I am. I’m yours, only yours my beautiful Willow.” He whispered against his lips as they met once again. The arm stretched behind him caressing the back of his head.

“Let me look at you.” Roy instructed pulling out again giving his ass a hard slap. “Back. Now.”

Both now back in their starting position again Danny scratched his nails into his ass making Roy hiss as he slid into him again.

He pulled him forward so he could look into his eyes holding onto either sides of his jaw.

“You gonna cum for me?” Danny bit onto Roy’s lip.

“Fuck yeah.” Roy breathed out into his mouth when his orgasm continued building closer as fast as he was pummeling into him.

“Cum for me baby.”

Danny’s sultry words of encouragement alone were enough for Roy to be pushed over the edge he’s been trying so hard to keep himself away from.

“Oh…fu…” Roy groaned pounding himself balls deep into his young lover again a final time when he gave into his orgasm. Shooting his load into Danny’s ass.

His limbs began trembling struggling to keep himself upright when his much awaited climax hit him like a ton of bricks.

While coming down from his orgasmic high he kept himself steady by focusing just on kissing those lips he loved, letting himself grow limp inside him before he pulled out and rolled over next to him.

“You’re secretly such a cock whore I love it.” Danny snickered wiping some leftover cum from earlier off Roy’s chin.

“Pot meet kettle.” Roy slapped his chest in retaliation. “Now go clean up.”

Danny gave him a very offended look which was made keeping a straight face at nearly impossible for Roy. “You made the mess you clean it, and because you’re so bossy you can call room service.”

“Hey I’m not doing all the work, you lazy bitch.” Roy rolled off the bed and walked over to where he threw their bags earlier. Digging through his backpack for his glasses case. “Besides,if you don’t cook or clean you won’t exactly make very good wife material.”

“Whatever.” Danny rolled his eyes throwing a pillow at Roy.

He took his glasses out and threw the other contents they hid from the girls in the small blue case out on the bed next to Danny before he went into the bathroom to get them a cloth.

After cleaning off the so called ‘mess’ he made Roy sat back against the headboard. Danny was resting against his chest with Roy’s arm protectively around him and their fingers intertwined.

Danny lifted their clasped together hand examining their woven fingers before smiling up at Roy kissing him softly. “Happy 6 months, bossy.”

“Happy 6 months, my love.” Roy tilted his head smiling into his lips kissing him back.

“Should we tell?” Danny held their hands up in front if them, admiring the way the lamp’s soft glow hit the gold around their fingers just right making it sparkle. “Husband.”

[stupid-jeans]

how to return home ch4 (Jalton)

Sunday night update: So, I lied. AO3 lied to me. What it told me was chapter 4 (unpublished) was actually just a duplicate of 3. I’m so sorry for the confusion and those who thought they had two chapters to read! :( Thank you all for the amazing feedback, as always. I’m so glad you’re enjoying! Off to work on the next chapter of madness game and then I assume the next chapter of this will be up sometime midweek.

Over on AO3

Chapter summary/Notes: Gavin and Jaz reflect on Elijah. Jaz and Adam have a few late night chats. This chapter is solidly in "T" territory. My lovely beta, @undercoverwatermoon's first comment on this was "Oh my GOD" so take that as you wish.

After dinner, the melancholy sets in. Not really for her, but it's coming off of Gavin in waves. Jaz leads him out onto the porch and sinks down in the swing, leaning against his side.

"You know he'd be really proud of you,” she murmurs. "It would've been so damn easy for us to give up without him."

"He would've been pissed. Can you imagine?" Gavin asks, laughing through tears.

"Yeah, he would've," Jaz agrees, pressing closer to him. "You know that song was the first one we ever sang together?" It's been a while since she revisited this particular memory, but it feels appropriate now, even with the lump it brings to her throat.

"I did know that," Gavin says, sliding his arm around her shoulders. "But you should tell me again."

Though she’s told it multiple times, the story never fails to lift her spirits. She tells him about the first day in Incirlik. Adam had met her at the airstrip and driven her back to their little hut on the base's edge. Elijah had been dancing around with McG in his arms, serenading him and expecting McG to sing his part, which he had zero apparent interest in doing. Begrudgingly, McG had sung, but he'd screwed up all the words causing Jaz to casually remark, "That's not how it goes." Elijah had looked at her like she was his long lost soulmate. They'd never looked back.

"He called me the next day," Gavin says. "To tell me all about this amazing girl. Almost made me jealous."

"You never had a damn thing to worry about. He loved you more than anything. I never even knew something like that was possible," Jaz admits, smiling despite the threat of tears.

"But now you know.” He kisses the top of her head, just like Elijah used to do and lets the quiet settle a bit before speaking again. “So, you think that's something you could have with Adam?"

"That's jumping, like, so many steps ahead," Jaz groans.

"Well, that's not exactly a 'no', so I'll take it," Gavin laughs. "Just do me a favor and don't let this pass you by without some serious thought, okay? I know it’s not a clear cut situation, but that's love, you know?"

Under any other circumstances, coming from literally anyone else, she would balk at the word. But she's safe here and it's not entirely wrong, so she just sighs.

"Yeah, okay."

**

It's nearly 3am when her phone goes off, just a quiet buzz under her pillow, but Jaz startles awake with a racing heart. The remnants of the nightmare still linger as she glances at her phone, squinting against the light.

Adam. You up?

I am now she nearly shoots back sarcastically, but he’s reaching out to her and it’s kind of a big deal. She just calls him instead.

"Hey. You didn't have to call."

"You say that like it's a chore. Last I checked, we're on leave and you can't boss me around. Maybe I just missed talking to you," she murmurs, the cold edge of her nightmare fading at the familiar warmth of his voice.

"I am not bossy. You want bossy, I'll put McG in charge for a week and you can see how that goes," he chuckles. He still sounds tired.

"Mmm, no, I think I'll keep you. Devil you know and all that," she says, stifling a yawn and rolling onto her back. The stars on the ceiling aren't anywhere near as brilliant or as vast as the ones outside, but they're comforting all the same.

"Aw, shucks. You really know how to make a guy feel special. Sorry I woke you."

"You didn't." Of course he would know.

"Liar," he says, mocking their earlier conversation.

"It was a nightmare anyway. So I should be thanking you." Admitting it feels easier than keeping up the lie.

"Wanna talk about it?" he offers.

Jaz knows she can turn him down and he'll drop it. But sharing with him has become almost second nature.

"I was back in Tehran...and he told me you were dead- showed me - and I didn't believe him. And then they brought me Elijah's head." Just saying it makes her queasy, and the words sour on her tongue. "God."

"You're alright," he promises, calm and steady like always. "Just breathe a second, yeah?"

Jaz does, in through her nose and out through her mouth, until the nausea subsides.

"You with me?" Adam asks and she nods before realizing he can't see her.

"Yeah, I'm here. Talk to me? How's Patton?" The dog is a safe topic for both of them.

"He's having the time of his life. I have no idea how I'm gonna bring him back to Turkey after this," Adam says. "Hang on."

She waits, wondering what the hell she's waiting for until her phone goes off in her hand and there's a picture of Patton passed out on Adam's chest; Adam's bare chest. Jaz swallows. It's not like she hasn't seen him shirtless a thousand times, but somehow having a picture makes it seem considerably more intimate.

"You're spoiling him. At this rate, we're gonna have to get him his own bed," she teases, impressed with herself for not letting on.

"Probably. But I'm a sucker."

"You are. It's kind of adorable," Jaz says, and then promptly smacks herself in the forehead because what kind of stupid fucking comment was that? "I mean he's adorable."

"You know, I don't think anyone's called me adorable since I was a kid," he laughs, ignoring her attempt at a save.

"Yeah, well, don't get used to it. This is what happens when you wake me up in the middle of the night," she mutters.

"You have no filter? I'll have to wake you up more often, then," Adam says. "I'm sorry. I should let you go."

The rapid backtrack takes Jaz a second to process.

"No, don't. Why'd you text me, anyway?"

"Couldn't sleep. That's all."

Jaz knows, without asking, exactly the kind of demons keeping him awake. She also knows that he's not ready to talk about them yet. These particular demons are fresh; too close to the surface to risk putting them into words just now. Instead, she hums and curls up on her side, figuring there's exactly one thing that might help.

"Stay on the phone with me?" she asks.

The relief is tangible in his voice when he agrees. She doesn't let herself drift off again until Adam's breathing evens out. It’s comforting to know he’s there, even through the tinny echo of the call.

**

In the morning, the call is still going. It hasn't been that long since they fell asleep (the counter on her phone says it's been 4 hours and 37 minutes), and Adam's still sound asleep. Jaz disconnects the call and slips out of bed to go for a run.

Like yesterday, there's breakfast and Gavin is waiting when she comes home. The predictability and the routine of it all set her at ease in a way nothing else has in a long time. She figures maybe this is what home is supposed to feel like. She’s so grateful to Elijah for giving this to her.

**

The routine starts to include Adam, somehow. Instead of falling asleep and waiting for him to cave at 3am, Jaz starts calling Adam when she goes to bed for the night. They talk about his day; boating, fishing and hiking with Patton. They also talk about hers. The ridiculous Walmart fashion shows - courtesy of Gavin- gardening and cooking with Connie; going shooting with Dale.

"Family looks good on you, Jazzy," he says. It’s been a week of bedtime chats that end with them falling asleep together, hundreds of miles apart.

"You can't even see me," she points out, teasing. "Besides, I have a family already. With the team."

"You know what I mean. I can tell you're happy there, is all. And I'm glad. You deserve it. But I do miss seeing you."

She feels her cheeks warm.

"I miss seeing you too," she murmurs.

"But see, you have a picture of me, and I don't have one of you," he says. It’s the closest thing to flirting he's said all week.

"Um, last I checked, I had a picture of the damn dog, not you," Jaz scoffs at him.

"That can be fixed."

"Why don't you just ask me what I'm wearing?" she challenges, not sure where the bravery is coming from. Maybe it's all of Gavin's goading.

"What're you wearing?" She's heard him in all kinds of situations, but not like this. Even as an exaggerated tease, his voice is dizzying and warm. Suddenly all she can think about is kissing him. She can still taste his mouth; still feel the faint tickle of his beard. She must make some kind of sound, because she hears his breathing go a little ragged in her ear. It's enough to bring her back from memory land.

"Nothing," she purrs, intentionally seductive in a way she reserves purely for playing a part and nothing more. And it's a total lie. But it'll get Adam back just a little bit.

"Jaz," he says, clearly amused but a little flustered.

"You asked."

"Pics or it didn't happen. Isn't that what the kids are saying these days?" he asks, and that he's not backing down has her a little rattled herself.

She's not a selfie person. To the best of her knowledge, she's never taken one. But she poses sort of awkwardly in the warm light of the bedside table lamp, stretched out on the bed in her wife beater and shorts; something he's seen her in a million times before. Jaz sends the picture before she can change her mind. Self-conscious isn't something she does, but right now, things feel different. Intimate, like the shirtless picture of him with the dog. The one she's looked at more than a few times.

"Liar," he murmurs again, and it takes a few seconds for her brain to catch up.

"Sorry to disappoint you," she laughs softly, trying to remember the last time she felt like this; flirty and carefree.

"You have never disappointed me," he says, suddenly serious.

"I know."

That night, she dreams about waking up in his bed, in his arms, with his lips on her neck. She wakes up flushed and panting, blankets in a heap on the floor. The phone is discarded next to her with the call already disconnected. Jaz can't help but wonder if he dreamed of her, too. She really, really hopes so.

[sippin-on-red-wine]

What’s My Name Again? | An Intro

As soon as I was buckled into my airplane seat, I kicked off my boots and dug out my earbuds. I had always been a bit of a nervous flier - the upgraded first class ticket Brent had treated me to definitely helped, but nothing did the trick quite like music.

Brent. I could practically feel my eyes turn into little cartoon hearts. I couldn’t believe the day had finally come. I had spent the last four months selling all of my belongings in preparation for the move. Brent owned a home out here, and he had picked out a car for me already. What else did I need besides my clothes and personal items? It was actually quite a freeing experience, having my personal possessions dwindle down to nothing but a couple suitcases’ worth, plus my kit. I had a box or two of sentimental type stuff, but it was safe and sound in my parent’s basement.

Flicking through my Spotify app, I switched on my ‘Ben Sherman’ playlist. It was only fitting. In my heart of hearts, I had to admit - I was so FUCKING excited for the upcoming weekend. After Brent & I settled on a date for the move, he surprised me with tickets. “Your first weekend as a Colorado resident… gotta do it big.” he had said. I had seen Ed live a number of times, but never with floor seats before. I felt a little guilty that I was more excited for the concert than for actually moving in with my long distance boyfriend after a couple years of only seeing each other a handful of weekends per year. But, that goddamn ginger has that effect on people.

I hit shuffle and kicked my feet up, increasing the volume to a level that I’m sure was borderline damaging to my eardrums. I lost myself in the music – you know how sometimes when you listen to a song that you’ve heard a billion times, you suddenly really hear it? It was one of those moments, for sure. Shuffle was treating me well; playing all the best songs one right after another. I mean, I love ALL of Ed’s songs - but it can be kind of a buzzkill to go from ‘Galway Girl’ to ‘Supermarket Flowers’. Not today, satan.

I was in the total groove and time was flying. I was in full-on jam mode: foot tapping, shoulder rocking, eyes closed, humming along to the melody when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I was suddenly VERY aware that I was, in fact, in a PUBLIC place.

Horrified, I pulled out my earbuds - music pouring out of them, I realized how loud I’d had my music up. I felt a flush of embarrassment spread across my cheeks as I swiveled my head toward whoever had tapped my shoulder politely.

I was prepared to apologize profusely when suddenly, the synapses in my brain fired back and forth to the ones in charge of my eyeballs and I realized I was staring into the face of ED SHEERAN.

EDWARD. CHRISTOPHER. SHEERAN.

No it can’t be him. Not real. What the hell, brain? But… wait…. His birthmark, the scar – and I KNOW those glasses.

“Hello. Mind if I have a sit here?” he gestured to the empty lounge seat next to me. I quickly snatched my phone off the cushion and watched in awe (and terror) as Ed Sheeran sat down next to me on the airplane.

I’m pretty sure all the blood drained from my face as I suddenly snapped back to reality, the sounds of Ed’s own voice crooning out of my earbuds. Oh fuck fuck fuck I cursed, silently, trying to close my Spotify app.

“I’m Ed.” he grinned at me.

Duh. Oh, crap. You should probably say something. Tell him your name.

Wait, what’s my name again?

“Becca.” I awkwardly flicked my wrist at a pathetic attempt at a wave. A wave. From 25 inches away. Idiot.

“I was admiring your jam session so I thought I’d come over and say hi.”

“Erm… That loud, eh?”

He giggled and nodded. Actually GIGGLED. It sounded like the heavens had opened up and that miraculous sound had filtered down and into my ears.

“Sorry bout that…” I muttered, sheepishly. “Guess it got away from me a bit, didn’t it.”

“Nah, it’s great. Made me smile to see someone enjoying my music, that’s all.”

“Wow, this is… just crazy. I have to say, I’m a huge fan.”

Every nerve ending in my body was singing. He was sat so casually next to me, just a normal guy wearing faded denim jeans and a deep red hoodie. Except he was Ed Fucking Sheeran.

“Are you flying in for the show on Friday?” His eyes flitted to my t-shirt because of course you’re wearing his merchandise.

“Yes!” I exclaimed, excitedly. “Shit, actually, no.”

His pretty blue eyes were sparkling with humor, the little lines at the corners of his eyes folding in as he smiled.

I searched for an explanation. “Sorry. Yes, I’ve got tickets to the show. But it isn’t the only reason I’m flying in.”

He adjusted, tucking a foot up beneath his butt and angling his body toward me. “Vacation?” he asked.

“Er, no actually - look, if you have to get back…” whyareyoutellinghimtogobeccayoudummy.

His hands sprung up, just as animated in real life as they were in the interviews I often watched on my laptop. “I’m good, actually - Stu is quite sick of me at the moment so I’m sure he’s enjoying a bit of peace. Unless you-”

I cut him off. “Oh, no, I, um, I’m free… obviously.” I snarked, twirling my earbuds around. “Actually, this plane ride is me officially moving to Colorado.”

“Oh, cool! Do you have family here? Sorry, I don’t mean to press. It’s just been a long, boring day of traveling.”

“You’re good, trust me…. No family, I’m actually moving here to be with my highschool sweetheart.”

Wow look at you holding an actual conversation. Keep breathing, Becca.

“No way. I love that.” His eyes lit up and it struck me that he, too, was rumored to be dating a girl from his childhood.

“Yeah! We were together in highschool and kind of went our separate ways afterwards. He moved out here for work. We connected again when he was home over Christmas a couple of years ago and we’ve been doing the long distance thing ever since.”

“Wow. And now you’re moving out here?”

“That’s the plan. Sold my car, quit my job. Got rid of nearly everything I own. Once we touch down I’ll be a Colorado resident.”

“Bit scary, innit?”

“Yes - it really is. But it’s worth it. The long distance thing….. Sucks. Erm, as I’m sure you’re well aware.”

We kept at it for nearly the next hour, trading stories about the various coping methods one uses to survive a LDR. Talking to him was actually really… easy? When I didn’t focus on the part where my favorite musician of all time was sitting next to me on the plane explaining how he facetimes his cats when he’s on the road?

This is a weird day.

The Pilot came on to announce that we would begin our descent, and Ed politely offered to snap a couple selfies before going back to his seat. He gave me an awkward chair-hug goodbye and told me to enjoy the show.

As soon as he was out of sight, my heartbeat resumed POUNDING in my chest. Did that just…? Holy shit.

I switched my cell off of “Airplane Mode” as soon as we hit the runway, and had a string of texts pour in from Brent.

*I’m here! Can’t wait for you to get off that plane baby! *HOW MANY MORE MINUTES *Can’t believe I get to wake up with you tomorrow… and the day after that… and the day after that….

As if I weren’t on Cloud 9 already from my Ed Sheeran Encounter, seeing those texts finally made it real for me. I get Brent. Every day. No more goodbyes. No more lonely nights.

Our area was dismissed from the plane first, and I practically sprinted out to the terminal, spotting my handsome boyfriend right away. He was tall, towering over me by at least a foot. He was looking around anxiously; he hadn’t spotted me yet. I took off into a jog toward him and I swear, the way his face lit up when he finally saw me? I was honestly just overcome. I ran and jumped up into his arms, his strong hold pulling me into his body. We just held each other so tight, him rocking me back and forth and squeezing me until hot tears spilled out from beneath my eyelids.

I lost myself in his scent, the solid feel of his body against mine. I don’t know how long he held me like that, but the buzz and chaos of the airport terminal slowly phased back in, for both of us, and he set me down on the ground in front of him.

“Becca!” A distinctly British voice rang out from somewhere behind me.

“Brent - ohmygod you wouldn’t believe –”

But Ed was there, extending a hand out to Brent. “Hey, mate, I’m Ed. You’re a lucky man, you know.”

I guess we really were a compatible match because Brent looked just as dumbfounded as I had felt on the plane.

“Trust me, I am very well aware.” He replied, kissing the top of my head - one arm wrapped snugly ‘round my back.

Ed turned to look at me. “Look, I don’t normally do this, but… I want to give you two meet & greet passes for the show on Friday.”

Okay. Back to dumbfounded.

“Ed, that’s so nice of you to offer but -”

“Please take them. It’s just – I know where you’ve been. And it’s nice to see someone getting their happy ending. I’ve got to dash but I’ll have Stuart put them underyour name at will call, okay?”

“T-thank you!”

“It’s my pleasure, really. See you later then!” and he was gone with a wave.

Well… surprise!