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actuallybarb · 4 years ago

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The Aftermath ~ Part 2

Summary: y/n gets knocked around by a water monster, has secret-sharing time with peter, and decides mj is more important than her pride. sleep deprivation and caffeine consumption are definitely involved.

Pairing: peter parker x reader

Warnings: swearing, angst, fluff, mysterio being a dick, trauma, it’s marvel what did you expect

Word Count: 3978 give or take

A/N: endgame is canon, *vomits*, but we’ve all got a thing for broken peter parker, even if all i want is his never ending happiness

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“I can’t believe you punched Flash.” Brad, of course, decided to sit next to me on the gondola ride to the hotel. Figures.

“You better believe it, ‘cuz it actually happened.” I tried to pay as little attention to him as possible and just take pictures on my phone, but he kept talking.

“Why don’t you like me?”

I groaned. “Because, Brad, you ask stupid questions like that.”

We pulled up to the hotel and were all sufficiently underwhelmed.

“It’s flooded!”

“The hotel is sinking?”

I considered helping the hotel out, at least while we stayed at it, but there wasn’t much hope left for it. I took my room key and thanked my lucky stars I didn’t have a room on the ground level. In fact, I was sharing with MJ. I waited patiently behind her as she jiggled the door open.

“Is it safe to assume the building will crumble any second now?”

MJ burst out laughing. “I think that’s an understatement.”

“If I get TB, I’m suing.”

“The hotel?”

“Harrington.”

She smiled. “C’mon, let’s get outside before we drown.”

We walked along the water and let the sun happily reflect on our exhausted faces. Everyone was enjoying themselves, but I was starting to feel queasy. It was almost imperceptible, but I could feel the city moving with the water, and it was making me sick. I started lagging back and tried to find my “sea legs,” but Peter noticed and stuck back too. “You alright?”

I plastered on a weak smile. “That long flight is catching up with me. I’m just going to grab an espresso, I’ll meet up with you guys soon.” He looked at me one more time before nodding and meeting the rest of the group.

I didn’t completely lie — I was getting an espresso. But I wasn’t going to catch up with them, at least, not for a while. I needed to get away from the water, even just for a little bit.

I can’t fly, per se. I can control the air currents around me and change them how I want them too, like I did on the airplane with the turbulence. I can do that with most elements, (except wood, I hate wood) and that gives me a heightened awareness of them. I’m basically the Avatar and the characters from Percy Jackson. All I have to do is shave my head and tattoo blue arrows on my body. (And, yes, I did watch all seven seasons of the two series and read all ten Percy Jackson books to actually figure out what the hell it was that I could do. It helped. Clearly.)

I just lifted myself to the top of the coffee shop. I’m a sucker for espresso, I like to be close to it. The distance helped. I felt grounded enough to walk on the normal streets of Venice again, but when I touched down, I suddenly lurched to the right.

“What the hell,” I muttered. I got my answer soon enough. A huge river monster was crashing its giant water arms on anything it could see. And I was directly in its path. “Oh, shit.”

I shouldn’t have been as terrified as I was. I mean, come on, I can control water. Dissipate the water man, Y/N, I can almost hear you yelling at me. Shut up, I was scared. This thing was twice as tall as any of the buildings, and it had a direct path to anywhere in the city. Me, a seventeen year old girl, against that? Not a good idea.

So, like any logical human being, I ran. And I still got clobbered with water and ended up actually falling into the water. Let me just tell you, Italy needs to get a Brita, ‘cause their river is nasty.

But, once I was actually in the water, the river monster looked a lot less intimidating. Sure, the water was churning around and sucking everything into its path, but I was in my element — literally. I got close to it, like, really close. I pushed against the flow of the water and tried to stop the monster from forming, and it worked, for a little bit. It slowed down, and I got some newfound momentum, when all of the sudden, it all stopped, and tons of water crashed to the surface. That was my cue to leave, but then something caught my eye. A flash of metal was in the water. Luck would have it, though, that I could bend water and metal (shout out to Toph Beifong). I latched onto the metal and pulled it close to me, but I couldn’t make out what it was. Didn’t mean I would trash it though, this water was disgusting enough. I tucked it in my pocket and started swimming to the surface.

I got out of the water actually pretty close to the rest of the class, but I was the only one completely drenched.

“Oh, Y/N, good! We’re all here,” Mr. Harrington celebrated. “Let’s get back to the hotel, your families will want to know you’re all fine.”

“You’re soaked.”

I shivered, even though it wasn’t cold. The temperature difference between the water and the air was enough to make me shake. “Astute observation, Brad.”

“Here, you can have my jacket.”

“Thanks, but I don’t want it.” I kept walking and managed to bump into Peter. “You got wet too?”

“Just splashed. Did you get thrown in?”

“Yeah, the bastard caught me by surprise. I’m okay, just cold.”

“Here.” Peter slung his backpack around and took out a mostly dry sweatshirt. He gestured it my way, but I didn’t take it. “It’s just a jacket, Y/N. You’ll get a cold with your hair dripping all around you.”

I knew that wasn’t how colds worked, but I took it anyway and let it soak in the water from my hair. It helped, surprisingly, at least making me not shiver. We made it back to the hotel with no other complications, aside from Flash tripping over his own shoelace because he was too busy recording for his Instagram followers to pay attention to where he was going. I quickly went upstairs and changed out of my clothes, putting on a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt that used to belong to Jessica. The room had a tiny balcony, and I took advantage of it and laid out all of my clothes and Peter’s sweatshirt. The last thing MJ or I needed was a puddle of water to slip in.

I went back downstairs and sat close to the top of the stairs, not wanting to get anywhere near the water at the bottom. MJ was a few steps below me, and Peter was leaning against the stairs, talking to someone on the phone. He hung up, and I slipped past MJ and wrapped around to the phone. I was about to dial, when I remembered something. “Hey, Peter.”

“What’s up?”

I pulled him away from the stairs and whispered, “Is the plan still working?”

“The—oh, that plan. Uh, yeah, I think so. I got her this necklace of a black dahlia from a glass shop, and I want to give it to her at the top of the Eiffel Tower.”

I smiled. “That’s adorable. I’m going to use the phone, do you mind?”

“Oh, sorry, I’ll get out of your way.” We smiled at each other, then I grabbed the receiver and dialed.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Mom, it’s Y/N.”

“Oh my—John, it’s her. Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine. Harrington wanted all of us to call our parents, so this is me, doing my due diligence. We’re still set for Paris tomorrow, so I’ll call you then, okay? Love you.” I didn’t even really wait for them to respond before I hung up. Truth was, I didn’t want to talk to them. I didn’t really want to talk to anyone, but I had to make one more phone call.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Jess, it’s Y/N. You watch the news nonstop, so I figured I’d call, let you know I’m okay.”

“Thank god, I was so worried about you. What happened?”

“This water monster literally came out of nowhere and knocked me straight into the murky junk, it was disgusting.”

“Were you able to help at all?” Jess was one of two other people in the world who knew about what I could do. She was the one who bought me the tv shows and books, of course she knew.

“I slowed it down at some point, but then all of a sudden it just dissipated, it was weird. I did find this weird metal thing in the water, I picked it up. I’ll send you a picture of it when I get the chance.”

“Okay. Call me soon, got it?”

“Count on it. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

I wasn’t in the mood to talk anymore, so I walked up the stairs, ready to succumb to the moldy mattress in my room. Unfortunately, I had to collect my clothes.

Everything was nearly dry, and Peter’s sweatshirt was definitely dry, so I brought them inside. I almost didn’t want to give Peter his sweatshirt back, just because it was so soft, but knowing him, it was probably the only one he brought, so I walked the ten feet to his front door and knocked. I wasn’t told not to enter, so I turned the knob and walked in. “Hey, Pete, I—“ I stopped with my hand by my face, terrified. A small dart was less than an inch away from my palm. I turned to the man in the corner who was holding the gun. “Did you just try to shoot me?”

“You’re the one who came barging in.” The scary looking guy with the eyepatch leaned forward. “What’s your name?”

I laughed heartlessly. “Ha, yeah, like I’m going to tell the man who just pulled a gun on me.” I looked at Peter and threw his jacket at him. “I brought this back.” Then I turned to the man in the chair. I crunched the dart, letting it fold on top of itself before his eyes, then I let it fall to the floor. “You can keep that.” I looked at Peter one more time, then slammed the door on my way out.

MJ was laying on her bed when I walked back in, but she could tell something was up. She had impeccable observational skills. “You good?”

I was pacing, a bad habit I picked up after The Snap first happened. “I just need to look something up.”

“Well, the hotel might be sinking, but they’ve at least got good wifi.”

I finally sat and opened my laptop, then turned on my VPN and put the whole device on ‘incognito mode.’ I had some serious investigations to conduct, I didn’t need the government to see what I was doing. Okay, I only had one serious investigation, but that could possibly have lead to more, so I kept my guard up.

First search: scary-looking black man with an eyepatch. The guy’s face was the first image that popped up. Nick Fury. Ex-director of SHIELD before all of that went to shit. Now he’s running some ‘underground’ SHIELD, I guess. Now I know the guy’s name.

But why was he talking to Peter? And why did he shoot me?

I was up all night doing research. Not just on Nick Fury, but on the metal piece I had found in the water, the Avengers, and as much as I could find on Peter Parker himself. Sooner than I thought, the sun peeked between the curtains at the window and MJ’s alarm came blaring through the speakers on her phone.

“Morning,” I mumbled, rubbing my eyes and finally taking a break from my computer screen.

“Did you sleep at all?”

“Are you going to yell at me if I say no?” MJ just pursed her lips. I knew she wouldn’t.

It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve pulled an all nighter. At least this one was productive.

“What’s on your bed?” She picked up a small spring and looked it over before putting it back beside the rest of the pieces of the metal thing. “Did you take apart your toothbrush?”

I chuckled. “No, I found this thing in the river when I got knocked in. I didn’t know what it was, so I took it apart.”

“Have you figured it out?”

“Not yet.” I rubbed my eyes again and groaned. “We’re going to Paris today, right?”

“Yeah.” MJ stood and stretched and I caught the smallest smile on her face when she replied. I smiled too and packed up my project. Something for another late night.

We were escorted outside with our luggage in tow, but Mr. Harrington happily informed us we would be taking a bus to Prague instead of a train to Paris. You’ve got to be kidding.

Peter was walking to the bus in front of me, but I grabbed his arm and dragged him away. “What the hell, Peter?”

“You can control metal?” He was in awe. His admiration would’ve been flattering if I wasn’t so pissed.

“You had Nick Fury in your room last night. I almost got shot last night. What the hell is going on?”

“It was only a tranquilizer, you would’ve been fine—“

“That’s not the point, Parker!” I basically hissed at him. He looked a little surprised that I was so upset. I took a deep breath and tried to calm down enough to not start shouting. “We were attacked by a water monster, I almost got shot, I didn’t sleep, and now four people in the world know what I can do, so give me some damn answers, because I sure as hell deserve them.”

Peter looked around, like he was looking for an escape, but I was ready. I might not have slept in almost 48 hours, but I wasn’t going to let him get away so easily.

Then Harrington was calling us over to the bus. Perfect timing.

“Can we talk on the bus?”

I nodded and let him lead the way to the back. Surprisingly we were the only ones that occupied those seats and the ones surrounding, but that’s what happens when you get a bunch of nerds in the same vehicle—they all sit in the front. He sat low in his seat, and I did the same, and I let him start the conversation. Prying it out of him wouldn’t be too successful, I figured, not with something like this.

We got fifteen minutes out of the city before he started talking. “Fury wanted me to go with him to meet this guy who defeated the Elemental yesterday.”

“Why you? And what’s an Elemental?”

“The water monster, it’s called an Elemental. And he asked me because I’m—I’m,” his voice dropped to an even lower whisper, “I’m Spider-Man.”

I almost didn’t believe him.

I almost burst out laughing at the hilarity of it all. Peter Parker, Spider-Man? Ridiculous.

But, remember, I learned from Toph Beifong. I can tell when people are lying.

And Peter?

Peter wasn’t lying.

Well, shit.

How do I even respond to something like that?

“Okay.” Good one. “Who was the other guy you met with?”

“You—you’re not surprised?”

Oh, young Parker, I was dumbfounded. But I had learned two years earlier how to control my heart rate, so he would never know how freaked out I actually was.

“You saw me stop a dart mid-air, Peter, you being Spider-Man is hardly out of the ordinary.”

He looked relieved, but he still hadn’t answered my question.

“Who was the other guy?”

“Oh. His name is Quentin Beck. He’s—“ another low whisper, “he’s from an alternate universe. He fought the Elementals before, and he and them got sucked into our universe when Tha—Hulk brought everyone back.” He didn’t look me in the eye when he talked about the snaps. I wouldn’t either, but I felt the little blip his heart made at the mention of Thanos’s name, so I didn’t push. Even though Quentin Beck and his story sounded like bullshit.

“Do you have a picture of him?” Peter looked at me skeptically, but hooked up his mask to his phone. A somewhat blurry picture of Quentin Beck popped up, and he sent it to me, but he didn’t seem happy about it. “I just want to know who to look out for. If I start chucking rocks at people, I don’t want to hit the wrong one.” The lie seemed to relax him a little bit. It wasn’t a complete lie, I did want to know who to look out for, but I also wanted to find this guy in our universe. “What’s the plan now?”

“They think another one will pop up in Prague—“

“Peter, we’re driving toward Prague. Shouldn’t we be going away from it?”

“I have to help fight this thing—“

“Let the Beck guy do it!” My voice had risen above a whisper and Peter quickly shushed me. “He’s done it before, he can do it again.”

“They need my help, I can—“

“Peter.” He kept muttering, convincing himself he needed to help, but I wasn’t having it. “You don’t have to save the world, Peter.”

That got him to shut up.

“Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t. You don’t owe the world a goddamn thing.”

“Help me.” That got me to shut up. “Help me fight the Elemental.”

“Why the hell would I do that?”

“Because you’re one of the only people who can! The next one that’s coming, they’re pretty sure it’s the fire elemental, and any time it absorbs metal it can get stronger. You can help us beat it by keeping the metal away from it!”

Oh. He didn’t know I could do more than that.

“Peter, I — ”

“Please.” Peter Parker had the best puppy-dog eyes I had ever seen in my life. But I wasn’t convinced.

“I’m here for a school trip, Pete, not to save the world.”

It’s like I sucker punched him. He deflated immediately and looked away, and I got up and moved a few rows ahead.

I wasn’t opposed to helping, but I didn’t want to get near Quentin Beck until I had a full story on him. And that would take a lot of research and caffeine.

“Hey, Eugene.” We had stopped for a bathroom break and he was still using his phone to update his Instagram followers on all of the happenings on our way to Prague.

“Are you here to break my jaw again, Y/L/N?”

I looked at his face and didn’t see any swelling, barely any discoloration. “Nope, you’re healing nicely, I’m impressed. Do you have a hotspot?”

“Why do you think I have a hotspot?”

“Because you’ve been on your phone the entire trip.”

“What will you do for me if I let you on it?”

I rolled my eyes and groaned. Of course he would ask for a favor. “Anything. Within reason.”

“Can I cash in on the favor later?”

Goddamnit. “Sure, whatever.”

He laughed maniacally. “Okay, Flash Hotspot is the user, and spidermanrocks is the password, no spaces, no caps.”

“Really, Eugene, you went with that password?” I almost had to laugh. He would have an aneurysm if he knew who was really Spider-Man.

“What?”

“It’s a bit obvious, don’t you think?”

He rolled his eyes. “Whatever. What were you doing with Parker?”

“Plotting the downfall of the European Union.” I let out a laugh. “We were talking about the water monster, and how there’s a light festival in Prague that’d be cool to go to.”

“Gonna go on a date with Penis Parker?”

“I was actually thinking about asking Brad.” That made Flash laugh, and I smiled myself. “But seriously, stop calling him that.”

“Whatever.”

Peter looked flustered as he got back on the bus, but I didn’t pry. But Brad looked awfully smug as he sat beside MJ. Focus, Y/N, you have to find Quentin Beck. I hunkered down in my seat and slipped my headphones over my ears, then logged onto Flash’s hotspot and got to work.

The number of illegal websites I went on was not something I’m willing to admit out loud, but I couldn’t find anything. Not a single facial-recognition scan showed any results for Quentin Beck, and I tried as many as I could get my hands on. But the more I looked at his face, the more I felt like I’d seen him before. And honestly, it was pissing me off.

I stared at the image on my phone, and I had a gut feeling it had to do with Tony Stark. This Beck guy was somehow connected to Stark. It’s like the answer was on the tip of my tongue. I rubbed my temples in frustration, wishing I could just reach into my memory and pull out the information when it hit me. “Memory, you’re so stupid, Y/N.”

Binarily Augmented Retro-Framing, affectionately called B.A.R.F. was presented by Tony Stark at a lecture he did at MIT almost seven years ago. But this guy had released a paper about it six months before—a guy named Quentin Beck. I remembered reading about it for a school project, and the picture of the guy was the same person Peter met.

“There’s no way.”

I looked up the article, and sure enough, I was right. Quentin Beck was the scientist behind the technology, and he was an employee for Stark Industries when the article was published.

Great, now I had to break into Stark Industries and access their archives while on a hotspot provided by Eugene Thompson. Lucky for me, we pulled into the parking lot for our much improved hotel, which meant free wifi. Unlucky for me, Mr. Harrington now felt he needed to start bossing us around, considering he was the teacher. Which meant I had to put my investigations to the side. For now.

“Okay, kids, grab your room keys, same roommates as before. Meet back in the lobby at five o’clock for the light festival!”

MJ and I dragged our cases up to the third floor. We each chose a bed, but she was moody, more than her usual angst. But I didn’t have time to play therapist. “Did we get a wifi password?”

“Uh, yeah.” She passed over the card after logging in herself and sat on her bed, glancing back at me every ten seconds.

I was typing away madly, but her stares were making me uncomfortable. “Why are you staring?”

She looked away quickly. “I’m not staring.”

“You were totally staring.” I kept clicking and typing. “What?”

“What are you looking for? I know you stayed up all last night on your computer.”

To tell or not to tell, that is the question. Not a very hard one, but it’s still the question. This secret isn’t mine to make public, though. “I’m trying to prove someone wrong.”

“Who?”

I hesitated. “Peter.”

“Why do you need to prove him wrong?”

“Because he’s gotten his idyllic little hopes up and I want to squash them like a bug.” I glanced at her and smirked. “I’m kidding. I just don’t think he’s right about something, and I’m proving it.”

She nodded, not entirely convinced. “You’re coming to the light festival, right?”

I looked at her. Really looked at her. She was pulling her long sleeves over her wrists and switching her weight from foot to foot—uncomfortable as hell. I gave her a genuine smile and closed my computer. “Wouldn’t miss it. Wanna help me figure out what to wear?”

Friends come before saving the world any day.

tags: @eridanuswave @vampirestrawberries

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker series #peter parker oneshot #marvel #marvel comics #reader insert #peter parker x mj #ned leeds #michelle jones #flash thompson #spiderman far from home #mcu #spiderman #avengers

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spiderman-homecomeme · 4 years ago

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nuts about you

It’s simple. Thirty days. All of November. No nutting allowed. Can Peter survive? A friends/roommates to lovers tale of stupid bets, sabotage, and most important of all, nuts.

thotumn. day 11. free prompt day finale.

Thank you @spideysmjs for organizing this magical month for us!! Because I am TOO impatient, I’m posting this a day early (also to keep my tradition of not posting things at the right time). Enjoy this purely goofy adventure.

Of all of the stupid ideas Peter and Ned have thought of in their ten-plus years of friendship, this one’s up there.

Easily in the top three.

No, it’s more than stupid. It’s ridiculous. It’s pointless. No one in their right mind actually thinks this is a good idea or that there’s any reason to do it. It’s an internet joke that’s too old, a meme that has no right being funny anymore. It’s run its course, and the guise of it raising awareness for anything other than the masturbation habits of penis-havers is complete and utter bullshit.

Again. It’s stupid.

Still, Peter Parker is not one to turn down a challenge, no matter how stupid. He’s nothing if not competitive. What can he say? If he won’t do it, who will?

This is what he considers as Ned lays it on the table for him.

All of November. Thirty days.

Peter doesn’t know how the conversation even started or how they ended up betting against each other in the world’s most moronic challenge. All he knows is that Ned is more than convinced that Peter is weak and won’t last. In fact, he’s so convinced that he’s willing to bet money on it. His reasoning ends up being that Peter isn’t strong enough.

And Peter? Well, he’s convinced that he will make it, that he can survive an entire month without giving in to his desires to bust a nut, to beat his meat, etc. etc. And he, too, is willing to bet money—a stupid amount, maybe more than a hundred—on his own success and his friend’s failure. He doesn’t want to appear too cocky, but he’s more than a hundred percent sure he’s got this in the bag. Yeah, it’s thirty days of cutting out one of Peter’s favorite pastimes—if not the favorite—but there’s no doubt in his mind that he’s more than capable of practicing a little restraint.

Still, confident as he is, there’s still that part of him that can’t help but dread the coming month the more and more he thinks about it.

“So, definitely thirty days?” Peter asks, eyes narrowing in thought. He tries to appear casual, as if the idea of no release for that amount of time isn’t a big deal. It’s more for clarification. “November has thirty days?”

Ned scoffs. “Yeah. Thirty days.”

“Any strikes? Any free coupons?”

“Nope.” Ned shakes his head with a soul-crushing finality. “Why? You don’t think you can make it?”

It’s Peter’s turn to scoff, face scrunching dramatically as he recoils. “What? No. I’m worried about you, man. What are you gonna do about Betty?”

Ned fixes him with a deadpan stare, clearly not buying whatever bullshit Peter’s trying to peddle. “A bet is a bet. She will respect that.”

“How can I trust you, though?” Peter asks, eyes narrowing in slight accusation. “You’re always at her place. I mean, how’ll I know you’re not lying?”

Ned glares. “How can I trust you?”

Peter sputters, desperately thinking of ways to throw a reverse Uno at this situation. “Wha—I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m—I’m single, man.”

Ned blinks. Once. Twice. “Do we need to talk about Felicia?”

“That was—”

“Cindy?”

“Dude—”

“Johnny? Jessica? Gwen—”

“I get it. I get it—”

“Carlie? Oh—Debbie? Caleb! Then there was Angela—”

Peter’s expression contorts into one of confusion. “Angela?” He tilts his head, squinting, searching for any kind of memory.

“Cute red head. You met her in line at Aldi.”

“Ahhh…” A knowing, borderline too-telling smile of recognition pulls at Peter’s lips. “Angela...” he sighs, almost dreamily. Okay, so maybe Ned has a point. But just because Peter enjoys the company of other people so much that he’s got his own version of Mambo No. 5, doesn’t mean he’s incapable of living without the warm touch of another human being or his hand.

Peter freezes, glancing at his friend. “Okay. Well. What do you want me to do about that? It’s not like I’m gonna call any of them up or anything. I have some sense of self-control.”

Again, Ned blinks.

“And besides, Felicia was freshman year… she’s our friend now. I don’t hook-up with her anymore.”

Another blink. “Dude.”

“Fine.” Peter huffs, whipping his phone out, eyes nearly rolling out of their sockets and onto the floor as he starts swiping through his contacts. “But I’m not deleting any of ‘em, okay?”

“Peter…”

“I’ll change their names! How ‘bout that?”

A beat passes of silent, overtly-judgmental staring on Ned’s part. He huffs after another second, throwing his hands up in defeat. “Fine.” Then, his frown shifts into a nonchalant smirk. “Whatever makes it easier for you to lose and me to win.”

“Please,” Peter scoffs. “I’m not the one with a girlfriend. You’re going down.” He tilts his head, narrowing his eyes, lips pursed in mock-contemplation as he points a finger. “Or I guess… Betty’s the one going down.”

Ned nearly chokes on his water holding back a snort. “Come on, man.”

Peter shrugs.

“Okay, well, are you gonna change the contact name for your right hand, too?”

It’s Peter’s turn to spit out a laugh.

But before he can even come up with another totally awesome comeback, he hears the jingling of keys, the clanking of locks as their roommate comes home after a long day of classes. All he sees is a flash of her curly hair before he’s tearing his gaze away from the front door, suddenly finding the pads of his thumbs to be pretty damn interesting.

“Hey, MJ,” Ned greets casually, as if they weren’t just sorting out a bet where neither of them are allowed to orgasm for an entire month.

“‘Sup.” Michelle flashes them a brief, closed-mouth grin as she makes for the refrigerator, swiping up some baby carrots and the brita filter.

Really, the conversation from earlier should be done there. Nothing else needs to be said. Especially not in front of their roommate.

But Peter can’t help himself.

“Let’s shake on it,” he says, putting his hand out, knowing that the more he keeps talking, the more danger he’s in of saying too much.

Ned takes it readily, eyes narrowed in determination. “Let’s.”

The corner of Peter’s lip twitches upward, but he holds it back. “No… Peanuts.”

“No walnuts.”

They have that understanding, speaking in the code that the two of them have just made up on the spot, something that Peter can’t help but feel pretty damn proud of.

MJ glances between the two, carrot half-way to her mouth, frozen in place, brows pinched in suspicion.

“Peter and I are giving up all nuts for the next month,” Ned says proudly, answering the question that she most certainly did not ask.

“Cool.”

Ned throws a not-as-subtle-as-he-thinks-it-is wink across the table, giving a just as subtle thumbs up from behind one of his stray history books.

Peter nods.

“Why?” Michelle asks, her question—one that shouldn’t have been as much of a surprise at is was—causing them both to exchange wary glances.

There’s a silence that follows, one that might clearly show that these two guys have no idea what kind of hole they’ve dug themselves into. Ned watches Peter expectantly. Peter glares back.

“Is it like a health thing?” MJ offers, popping another carrot into her mouth.

Peter nods a little too quickly. “Yeah. Health stuff.” His stomach flips when her gaze meets his, her eyes squinting as she chews thoughtfully.

“May thinks Peter might have a nut allergy,” Ned hastily spits out. When both sets of eyes land on him, he laughs. “So his allergist suggested going a month without ‘em. To see if that makes it better.”

And honestly, Peter thinks that’s a pretty damn good save.

The best part is that MJ seems to buy it. She nods. “So why are you doing it, Ned?”

“Solidarity,” Ned offers quickly.

Nice save.

“Ah,” MJ purses her lips, though she still doesn’t seem to care all that much. “Well, good luck. I guess. I know how much you guys… love… nuts? I guess?”

Peter nods solemnly.

When she turns back to grab a cup from the cabinet, he throws Ned a quick single nod.

Well played.

“So, Peter’s doing no nut November.”

Felicia nearly chokes, snorting as she struggles to keep her vanilla latte in her mouth. “What?” She asks after a dangerous second. They were supposed to be having a nice study sesh, reading about Bloom’s taxonomy, not talking about Peter’s nut habits.

“He and Ned made a stupid bet to see who could last the whole month,” MJ answers, taking a quiet sip of her London Fog. “Apparently they bet a lot of money on it.”

Felicia’s face scrunches in amused confusion. “Why?”

“Do they really need a reason to do dumb shit?”

Considering that for a second, Felicia nods with a satisfied frown. “Fair.”

“I bet against Peter, though,” MJ continues. “After he left, I made Ned let me in on it. There’s no way Pete can last the whole month, right? Not even a week.”

“Oh, definitely not,” Felicia vehemently shook her head. “I honestly feel like he’d spontaneously combust after, like, a day.” Then, she lets out a quiet snort. “Combust a nut.”

Michelle wrinkles her nose. “Ew.”

“But for real. He’s not gonna make it.”

“That’s what I said. Ned seems to have some faith in him though—no idea why. I told him that Peter wouldn’t even last a week… and now I guess I’m involved.”

“This would be so easy to sabotage though.”

“Right?”

“Seriously,” Felicia snorts. “All I’d have to do is hit him up one more time and he’s gone.” And then, in that next instant, her face lights up like a Christmas tree. “That’s it!” Before she says anything else, she’s pulling her phone out, quickly scrolling through, looking for God knows what. “Girl, I am gonna win that bet for you.”

MJ leans forward, curious, yet still cautious. She’s not sure if Peter hooking up again with Felicia is the best idea, given that relations within the friend group would just make things a giant, tangled up mess of complicated awkwardness. “How?” Michelle dares to ask, craning her neck to see what the hell Felicia’s doing on her phone.

Her friend is quiet for a moment, locked in concentration on her screen, bottom lip tucked between her teeth, brows knit together. Then, she cracks a satisfied, sly smile, turning her phone to show MJ just what she was looking for.

Simply; a picture of Felicia’s relatively new tattoo which, in and of itself, doesn’t seem like it would get Peter’s peter going. It’s pretty. Floral. Nothing to lose one’s mind over.

No, it’s more the placement.

It’s a tasteful shot, the simple flowers lining the underside of her breasts, her hands acting as makeshift pasties, just barely covering her nipples.

Still, though there’s no actual nudity, it’s enough to make MJ’s eyes bug out of her head for a moment before she’s realizing what she’s looking at.

“Okay. So?” Michelle waits for an explanation.

“I send him this,” Felicia says simply, pulling her phone back and (seemingly) drafting up the very message. “Ask if he wants a closer look at it.”

Michelle considers it a moment, knowing that there’s a very strong chance that Peter could almost immediately fall into such an obvious trap. The corners of her lips twitch into a casual frown. She shrugs. “Honestly. Yeah. That might work.”

“Might?” Felicia almost scoffs.

“You’re a genius.”

A smirk tugs at Felicia’s mouth as she leans back in her chair, swiping up to send the message before putting the phone down on the table. “I know.”

They sit in silence, the two of them watching the screen with bated breath. They both gasp when the read receipt pops up, followed by a dead silence. MJ can only imagine how stressed that boy must be, opening his phone, thinking it’s an innocent text from Felicia, then BAM, he’s vibe-checked by her boobs instead.

She holds back a snort, her stomach jumping into her throat seeing the dot-dot-dot pop up at the bottom of the screen. It’s almost as if she forgets to breathe, waiting to see what he’s going to say to such a blatant come on.

It’s like he’s typing a damn novel with how long it’s taking him though, and Michelle’s not sure she can take it much longer.

And then, her phone dings.

Felicia’s lips pull into a frown reading the message. “‘Wow. Looks cool! No thanks, though.’ Aaaaand,” she spins her phone for MJ to read it. “Thumbs-up emoji. Smiley face with sunglasses.”

Even MJ’s surprised at that response. Maybe Peter is really taking this No Nut November thing seriously. Maybe he’s not as weak as she thought. But… it doesn’t make any sense. Nothing’s adding up.

And with this confusion, there’s a sense of relief, knowing his response. Waiting wasn’t fun.

“Huh.” Felicia sighs, biting her lip in thought as she starts typing out another message and sending it.

“What did you say?” Michelle asks.

“I told him I’d been thinking about getting my nipples pierced and wanted to know what he thought.”

At that, Michelle snorts. “You’re an evil woman.”

Felicia shrugs innocently. “I think he’d really like ‘em.”

Truly, it’s a genius move. It’s something that Peter has to address; Felicia’s nipples. The idea of them being pierced. It’s too much for his brain to handle.

And again, just like before, they get into a staring contest with the conversation, watching as the read receipt pops up again, immediately followed by the ever-cruel ellipses as Peter no doubt struggles with a response that’s not too-eager.

But then, he completely throws them for another loop.

“‘I support you, friend!’ with…” Her eyes narrow. “A smiley face.”

“Wow,” Michelle says, genuinely surprised.

And Felicia seems just as shocked, if not a little offended that one of her oldest tricks in the book seem to have no effect whatsoever. “Did he just… friendzone me?” She asks, absolutely appalled.

“You were already friends before?” Michelle laughs.

“But in this context?” She huffs, shaking her head. A beat passes where all she does is stare at her phone. “That’s weird,” she says slowly, lips quirking into a confused frown. “Huh.”

“There, there,” Michelle deadpans, patting her friend stiffly on the hand.

Felicia laughs. “It’s fine…” She draws out. “A hit to the ego is good for me every once in a while.”

“Oh my God,” MJ rolls her eyes. “You’re still hot. Don’t worry.”

With a sad, a little over-dramatic nod, Felicia’s frown deepens as she pretends to wipe at her eyes. “Yeah. I am.”

“I can’t believe that didn’t work,” MJ muses. Really, she can’t. Peter’s perhaps the easiest person she knows—and there’s nothing wrong with that at all; it’s just a fact of life. The sky is blue. Grass is green. Peter is a thot.

“I guess he’s really following through with this whole no nut thing…” Felicia’s brow furrows as she recoils. “How much money did he bet anyway?”

“A hundred.”

“Oh my God.”

“Yeah.”

“How much did you put in?”

“...A hundred.”

“MJ!”

“Listen!” Michelle reasons, holding her hands up in defense. “This is gonna be the easiest two hundred dollars I’ve ever made.”

Felicia sits back, clearly impressed. “Does Peter know you’re in on it?”

“Nope,” MJ says, emphasizing the ‘p’ with an audible pop.

“Well—” Felicia starts, shifting in her seat, crossing one leg over the other. “—I’m sure you’ll find some way to make that boy give in. Sorry I couldn’t help.”

Michelle lets out a light snort. “It’s okay. You tried.”

“If I think of anything else, I’ll let you know.”

But honestly, MJ already has a vague idea of what her next step is.

And it brings her to his bedroom, to his desk, messing with his laptop while he’s out for his Sunday patrol. His password is entirely too easy to guess—really, you’d think a guy as smart as Peter would have something a little more complicated than “webshooter69.”

If there’s anything she knows about Peter—maybe a little too much about her friend—is that while he mostly enjoys the company of a flesh and blood human being, he’s not above the occasional perusing of adult websites.

The guy likes porn.

The plan is to make his chrome homepage one of his regular sites. Confront him with the images that really get him going.

She browses through his history, hoping that he hadn’t thought to delete everything or go incognito. And… luckily for her, that particular idea seemed to have slipped his mind entirely. Literally not even a week out and she’s found a slightly-more-than-nefarious-looking website.

Easy enough.

And it’s exactly what she’s looking for. Nudity galore. There doesn’t seem to be a corner of the site that doesn’t have a boob or a butt. It is truly Peter’s domain.

For a moment, she wonders if she should make the homepage specifically something he searches for… his favorite genre perhaps.

She shakes the thought away immediately. It’s too invasive. Besides, the front page should be more than enough—there’s literally a video that frustratingly autoplays every time she goes back to that one page. And why would she need to know what Peter likes? There’s no reason for that. At all.

Making sure to close out of everything before logging out, she slams the laptop shut, sprinting out of his room as if he was just about to get home. Her heart races as she slams her own bedroom door behind her, catching her breath proving to be more difficult than usual.

And now, she waits.

It turns out, she doesn’t have to wait very long.

That evening, in fact, after Peter’s come back for dinner.

He takes his time microwaving his leftovers from the day before, whistling to himself as he bounces around the kitchen. The whole time it feels like MJ’s just holding her breath, anticipating his early demise the instant he opens up chrome on his laptop. And honestly, this does feel like a low blow, like she’s just snatching up that low-hanging fruit—God, MJ, phrasing—but then she’s reminded that this, again, is the easiest two hundred dollars she will ever earn.

And then she feels a little less bad about what she’s done.

The second he’s finished with his food and disappears into his room, her eyes are on his door, and then it occurs to her that there’s not really a way that she can know he’s, well, “lost.” It’s all based on his own honor, if he’ll admit to succumbing to his most basic need. She likes to think that he would, though. Peter’s too much of a good, honest guy—hiding his secret identity aside—that he couldn’t lie to his friends about it.

Ned comes home not two minutes later, deflating on the other side of the couch.

“Rough day?” MJ asks, the teasing hint to her tone not going unnoticed.

Ned rolls his eyes. “Told Betty I was doing this whole month thing.”

MJ winced. “Yikes.”

“Yeah,” Ned chuckles.

“Well, if it helps, this whole thing is probably gonna end in—” she checks her phone. “—five or so minutes.”

Ned’s gaze darts right and left. “What… What do you mean?”

Before she can answer, Peter yelps from the other side of his door. There’s a loud crash that sounds suspiciously like a laptop being yeeted across the room in a hasty, knee-jerk reaction. Before either she or Ned can move, Peter’s bursting through his door, eyes blown wide, his face drained of all color, and he’s frozen in place, one hand gripping the doorframe.

And it takes everything in her not to grin. “Everything okay?”

Peter coughs, scratching the back of his neck, before his gaze lands on Ned in a challenging glare. “DUDE. Not cool.”

Poor Ned looks as confused as ever, his jaw dropping, brows pinching together as he glances between the two. “I—What—what are you talking about?”

Peter narrows his eyes even more.

“Did I hear something break?” MJ asks carefully, as not to seem too suspicious.

He startles at her voice, sputtering out a response that mostly sounds like the macaroni glue art of sentences. “Oh—uh—no. It—It was the—the laptop. There was—a thing. And—I just kinda—threw it.” He laughs nervously. “It’s fine though. Not—not broken. All good—” He throws some finger guns. “—in the hood.”

Her lips twist as she nods.

Peter nods back, hands in his back pockets as he starts to retreat back into his room—though not before throwing another I’m watching you glare at Ned.

As soon as the door clicks shut, Ned’s in full interrogation mode.

“MJ, what did you do?”

She shrugs, toying with the loose thread of her hoodie. “Nothing much. Just… Set his default homepage to some porn. No biggie.”

Ned’s jaw drops, thoroughly scandalized, but there’s a hint of amusement behind his eyes. “Dude… That’s evil.”

Michelle gives another shrug.

So, her second plan had failed. Even after surprise-porn, Peter’s still in the running. He’s still holding out. Almost a two days into November, and he is surviving, a surprise to everyone involved, and already, MJ’s running out of ideas. Well, good—plausible ideas. There are plenty of ways she’s sure she could compromise him. Take him to a strip-club maybe, but there’s not a doubt in her mind that he’d be able to pick up on what she was doing. There’s no way he’d fall for it.

Hiring an escort was definitely out of the question.

Theoretically, both of those could work. Were they good plans? No. Absolutely not.

He’s already turned down a previous hook-up. He broke his laptop out of the sheer panic that seeing porn brought him.

There doesn’t seem to be much more that she can do.

It’s not until the next day, as she’s walking the clothing section of Target with Felicia that she’s struck with an idea.

Felicia specifically striking her with said idea.

They’re in the middle of the sleepwear section, MJ mindlessly rifling through the fuzzy sock bin, when she nearly collides with the underwear display. She’s distracted for a moment, wondering if it’s too soon since she’s bought new underwear to justify taking advantage of the sale, when Felicia nudges her with her elbow.

“Peter’s really into pretty underwear,” she says as if they’re not in the middle of Target. As if there’s not a mom and two kids in the actual pajama section two displays over.

Michelle recoils slightly, startled. “What?”

“He’s like, really into it,” she says, taking a casual sip of her iced coffee, reaching over to pick up a particularly lacy number. “Just saying. Might be useful.”

For some reason, MJ feels a strange heat rise to her cheeks. “I’m not gonna put these on for him!”

Felicia smirks, holding a hand up in defense. “Who said anything about you wearing it? You can just… leave it lying around for him to find, or something.” She tilts her head to the side, both brows raising. “Jeez, MJ.”

“Oh…” Michelle says, though her face still burns. “Right.”

It’s not a bad idea. In fact, it’s pretty good. If Peter’s as into fancy underwear as Felicia says he is, then maybe leaving them around like some kind of weird scavenger hunt is the best plan. She doesn’t buy much, picking a pair of relatively cheap lace and polyester. She could use her own underwear for this, but… that would be weird right?

(As if this isn’t weird enough already.)

And besides, the ones she’s buying are a little more extra in that department. They aren’t meant to be worn for long, not from comfort.

They’re perfect.

She feels like some kind of underwear fairy, planting them somewhere in the apartment, making sure they’re hidden, yet visible in a place that Peter frequents; it sticks up between the couch cushions, not subtle in the slightest. The second Peter’s butt hits that couch, he’ll see them. There’s no other way around it.

It becomes another waiting game as she sits in the living chair, knees curled into her chest as she pretends to read quietly. It’s pretend because she can’t focus long enough on any single letter to let her brain absorb anything on the pages. Finally, the front door opens. Peter greets her with a cheery smile, making immediately for the kitchen.

Good. Yes. He gets his after class snack. Important.

Just as she’d planned.

He emerges not two minutes later, bag of cheese crackers in hand as he launches himself over the back of the couch. “‘Sup?” he asks after shoving a mouthful of Cheez-its into his face.

Michelle wrinkles her nose, her eyes unconsciously darting between the guy on the couch and the panties peeking out from the cushions. “Reading,” she offers, brandishing the very unread book.

Peter nods, tearing his gaze from hers after a beat and reaching for the remote. When he sits back, his hand brushes the cheap lace and he pauses, curious as he looks down to see what he touched.

All of this while MJ desperately pretends not to notice.

When he picks the pair up though, his brows pinch together, at first unsure as to what he’s actually looking at. “Uh…”

At that, MJ looks up, seeing right as the realization sets in.

Of course, she plays dumb—by staying silent.

Peter quickly looks to her, eyes wide as if he’s seen a ghost. “It’s—it’s not—these aren’t—” His lips press together as he forces a breath through his nose. “I—Oh god—”

And then, for a split-second, she feels the slightest bit guilty. Is this actually a good plan or is she just tricking him into getting a boner over cheap department store undies? That, and is she technically lying to him by not claiming the offending undergarments? By making him freak out over nothing?

He seems to be having some sort of existential crisis, wondering if these really are from some recent hook-up and the psychological effect of not nutting in three days has caused him to forget.

This was a terrible idea.

She has to put him out of his misery.

“Oh, shit. Those—” Her laugh is breathy, short. “—Those are mine.”

And instantly, Peter drops the thong, as if his hands had been burned. “Oh!” he coughs, his gaze straining as if he’s trying to keep his eyes on her face. “S—Sorry.” He swallows.

“Yeah.” Rising on legs that are shaky—from sitting so oddly in the chair for so long—she goes to snatch up the baby pink lace, clutching it behind her back before Peter can get another look. “Sorry. Must’ve forgot. Uh, when I did… Laundry.”

Peter nods, breathing out a chuckle. “Yeah. Yeah. S’fine.” He waves her off, scratching the back of his neck.

But even after that, Peter still seems off. For some reason, he still doesn’t seem to be able to look at her for more than a split-second. He doesn’t say anything else, sitting in silence, his cheese crackers long forgotten on the coffee table.

Michelle wonders if she should say something else. Break the tension. It’s awkward, obviously, because he feels weird about touching his friend’s underwear. Anyone would, really. He touched something that theoretically would be on her body; something that normally, he thinks is really sexy, or whatever.

After another minute of some good old soul-crushing silence, Peter stands, excusing himself to his room without another word.

Huh. Weird.

It’s the movie night that finally gives her that clarity she’s been looking for; that moment where everything clicks into place, and she can finally see how she’s going to win this.

Ned’s out with Betty, leaving her and Peter alone not for the first time.

She and Peter are sitting on the couch together, her head resting on his shoulder—because that’s what friends do, obviously—the two of them sharing a gray fuzzy blanket. This is a normal occurrence. They’re close enough in their friendship that some occasional cuddling isn’t too weird. Especially given how chilly it’s been lately. And, it’s comfy. Just some nice head-to-shoulder contact.

But later in the movie, when MJ starts to get dangerously sleepy, feeling herself drooping further and further, unable to completely pull herself back to reality. Things are fuzzy, almost dreamlike, as she just pulls herself up from his shoulder, giving up entirely on watching the movie and just grumpily laying down right on his lap, his thigh her make-shift pillow.

This isn’t weird.

It’s normal.

She’s sleepy.

And Peter’s a surprisingly comfy pillow.

Peter doesn’t even have time to ask what she’s doing before she’s just nestling further into his lap. She misses the pure dread and panic that flashes across his face when her head lines up with his head. There’s no safety here. Just a few wrong movements, and she’ll definitely know what’s up. She’ll be an unwitting tourist to Boner City, population: one.

Peter has to do something. He can’t let this continue. Having his best friends head just straight up on his crotch is not helpful in the slightest.

“MJ,” he gently nudges her, grimacing slightly when she just burrows further into him.

He nudges her again, and she grumbles, finally opening her eyes and looking up at him. She puts a hand on his thigh to steady herself.

Peter swallows.

“What?” She asks, not opening her eyes.

“I uh—” Peter can’t seem to speak, trying desperately to come up with some excuse as to why he has to get the fuck out of there. “—I gotta pee.”

She cracks an eye open skeptically. “But I’m comfy,” she emphasizes her point by—once again—snuggling her face into his lap.

Peter’s about to lose his damn mind.

In MJ’s defense, this had started with the best intentions. She truly was just wanting to lay down and sleep on her friends lap—again, a perfectly normal thing—but now… even through the haze of sleep, she’s seeing how much this is effecting him.

It hadn’t occurred to her until now, that she could be the one that makes him “crack.” They’re just friends. Sure, she thinks he’s attractive, and yeah, maybe she’s had the one or two or three sexy dreams about him before (even some soft, fluffy ones), but that doesn’t mean she thinks about him in that way.

He's just Peter.

Sweet, adorable, kinda hot Peter.

Again, she doesn't think about him that way.

But she supposes it makes sense. Really, she should have known before putting her head on his crotch that he might get a little flustered from the proximity, that it might remind him of certain things. It's just the body's physiological reaction to a stimulus; the stimulus being her head. It's simple science.

So then, it would also only make sense for her to take advantage of that physiological response she's able to get out of him. Maybe not right at this second, given she's been a little blindsided by this whole thing. But maybe now she can rethink her gameplan. Now she has access to tools she didn't know she had access to before.

Her own sensuality.

She can certainly use that.

And it's not as if she'll do anything too out there. Just... make him feel the heat—the pressure—just a little bit. Make him sweat.

Felicia's of course delighted by this development, giving her full support in "seducing Parker into busting a nut."

(Her words, not MJ's.)

She'd also said something about how it's about time, but that'd been promptly ignored—mainly because MJ didn't know what the hell Felicia was talking about.

The problem is now, though, Michelle's not exactly sure where to start. After Peter had made a dead sprint to the bathroom the night before, he's been a little more, shall we say, cautious, around her. He bounces on his feet, trying desperately to appear casual, acting as if nothing was weird about their movie night.

She only has three days left in the week, so she has to think.

And fast.

Peter's not sure if MJ's up to something, but he can't help but feel as though she's acting... strange. First, the underwear thing, which made him feel all kinds of flustered and weird, and then her head being dangerously close to his dick. It's a lot. She can't possibly know about this No Nut thing, right? She wasn't there, and Ned wouldn't have told her... right?

Still, he tries to avoid her as much as he can, ready to fly away the second she's in the same room as him.

Truthfully, he's always had maybe the tiniest crush on his best friend. It's faded in and out over the years, especially in their college years. But it's always been there, even if just the ghost of one. And now, he's starting to see maybe how bad of an idea this was in the first place—No Nut November. His roommate is literally probably the prettiest person in the world and he's being constantly reminded of the one thing he definitely should not be thinking about under any circumstances if he wants to win. It's a disaster that should have never happened in the first place. This could have been prevented, he thinks.

He's not sure how he didn't think about that when he'd agreed to do this.

He just knows that he has to do something, though he's not sure what.

But any and all ideas of how to protect himself instantly leave his mind, crashing his brain, when he comes back to the apartment the next day to find it sweltering. He looks at the thermostat, thoroughly confused to find the heater set to eighty. He peels off his jacket, recoiling when the humid air sticks to his skin. It's hot. Too hot. Even for early November. It's not that cold outside.

He's about to call out for his roommates when MJ emerges from her room, and he feels like he has to pick his jaw up from the floor.

Her shorts are too short for it being fall. They show too much of her legs for his eyes to not be immediately drawn to them. Her white tank top is tight against her skin, hugging her form in a way that almost makes him jealous. And then, it's almost too much, too dangerous, when he can very clearly tell that she's apparently decided to forgo a bra for the evening.

"Oh, hey Pete!" She says, as if she's not looking like that.

"Hey—hey. Em..." He clears his throat.

Dear God. It's been less than a week. Hold it together.

"Is it..." Peter swallows. "Is it hot in here? The—the heat? Is it—is it on?"

MJ's eyes widen a fraction.

"Oh, yeah. It is," she replies casually. "Is that okay? I was just a little cold."

"So you turn it up to—" Peter stops, craning his neck to look at the thermostat on the wall. "—eighty-two?"

She glances left and right, as if there's nothing wrong with that temperature whatsoever. "Yeah," she says with a nonchalant shrug, her lips tugging into a frown. After a beat, she lets out a faint snort, apparently finding something particularly funny, before turning to the fridge. She opens the freezer, sighing as the cool air hits her face.

Peter doesn't realize he's staring as she reaches in, pulling out a box from the top shelf. When he sees what's in the box, he knows that his doom is near. It's bright, colorful. It's popsicles. He has to leave immediately if he knows what's good for him, if he has any sense of sanity left. She grabs a crinkling wrapper from inside the box, casually whipping it out. She holds one out to him.

"Want one?" She offers.

Peter can only shake his head, swallowing a near-silent, voice-cracking, "Nope."

And it's at this point, as she shuts the freezer door, as she starts peeling the wrapper off the way-too-phallic popsicle, that he knows he should run. It's not safe here.

But he's frozen in place, trying to burn his gaze into the intricacies of the granite countertops, tapping his fingers in an erratic rhythm.

He's an idiot, for sure, because he looks up at exactly the wrong time, right as she wraps her lips around the tip of the pop, her eyes meeting his for a fraction of a second.

How can it only be eighty-two in here?

Thankfully, he gains some sense, tearing himself away from the counter and going over to actually turn down the thermostat. "Is it okay if I—" He coughs. "—Turn this back down?"

"Sure." MJ doesn't stop him. She wets her lips, hiding her satisfied smirk by taking the popsicle deeper into her mouth.

But again, he makes the fatal mistake of looking at her again, because now... well, now she's just messing with him. She has to be.

No one eats a popsicle like that.

When he thinks it can't get worse, she has the fucking audacity to hum as she pushes it further into her mouth. "This is so good," she says, half-way a moan.

Who actually says that about a fucking popsicle?

It's evil, truly it is, because it makes him imagine her swirling her tongue around it inside her mouth, and suddenly, the tightness in his pants gets even more uncomfortable.

He hurries to somewhere else in the kitchen, pouring himself a nice glass of water. It's still too hot in here. MJ sidesteps him easily, still inappropriately eating—sucking off—her popsicle. And he nearly chokes, because as his eyes meet hers again, she takes the damn thing out of her mouth—he thinks he's safe, but oh no—she slips her tongue out, licking a long stripe up the base, swirling it around the tip before taking it into her mouth again.

"What?" She asks—she fucking asks—when he can't look away.

And unsurprisingly, Peter can't speak. Can't even get a single syllable out.

"Is my tongue red?" She asks, sticking said tongue out that was just seconds before all over the popsicle.

"I'm gonna go hop in the shower," Peter spits out, dropping his water in the sink and making a mad dash to the bathroom, not waiting for a response.

A shower is what he needs right now.

A nice, cold shower.

He needs to take a deep breath. Think of not sexy things. Things that don't make his life out to be a bad porno.

Then, he needs to leave. Hide in the forest. Live among the trees, away from temptation, until November is over. Only then can he be at peace.

That's it!

Trees. Nature. Forests. Cold. Snow. MJ in the snow. Kissing MJ in the snow—NO.

NO.

He slams the bathroom door, leaning back against it. He heaves out a shaky sigh, running a hand over his face in frustration. How he can possibly survive the rest of the month, he has no idea.

MJ has to be messing with him, right? There’s absolutely no way in hell she’s not doing this on purpose. And why? Why is she torturing him like this? What has Peter ever done in his life to deserve this torment? It isn’t fair.

No matter how desperately he wants to take care of the not-so-little problem in his jeans, he holds himself back, clenching every muscle in his body as he switches on a very cold shower. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to will the image of Michelle—his best friend and roommate—eating a popsicle out of his mind. It has absolutely no right to be there.

And still, as Peter stands under the stream of freezing water, letting it run down his back and front as he holds himself up with one hand, he can’t help but think that the worst is yet to come. That somehow, someway, MJ would top simulating a blow job on an ice pop. He doesn’t know how she’d do it, but he knows it’s coming.

He must be ready.

Not to MJ’s surprise, Peter avoids her the rest of the day. He keeps his head down, not daring to even glance up at her as he walks past. Weirdly enough, this is a good sign. It confirms her hypothesis that her actions can have some sort of an effect on him. It helps her to know what to do next.

And, well…

She’d be lying if she said it weren’t at least a little bit thrilling.

There’s something deep inside her that finds all of this so interesting, so amusing. She wants to know how far she can go, how hard she can push before he cracks under the pressure. And the fact that it’s her that has all this power over him—it’s certainly a revelation.

But still, even if this is “fun,” she can be professional about this. She would never let it get “too far,” whatever that would be. No, the goal here isn’t to seduce her way into Peter’s pants, but to seduce him—innocently—enough that he just does it to himself.

Her next plan might be a little more unfair, a little more direct, and perhaps a little more daring than the last one.

And—she should add—much more difficult than she had anticipated.

For one, she just can’t seem to get the right angle, holding her phone above her body, making sure to get both the underside of her breasts—a tasteful amount of boob, thank you very much—and the same cheap, pretty pink undies she bought from Target. It’s awkward, tilting and twisting her phone, her thumb just barely reaching the shutter button. The first few shots aren’t anything to be particularly proud of. Too blurry, her arm cramping up from holding the camera up so long. This isn’t something she’s really done before, given she’s never seen the appeal. Why send pics when you could just, you know, show them the real thing?

But for some reason, it makes her heart climb into her throat, makes her face almost unbearably warm.

It’s when she changes her positioning on her bed, finding some nice light filtering in from the early evening sun. Golden hour has always proven to be exceptionally kind to her. She finds a decent pose, covering both breasts with her forearm, arching her back, making sure to get that perfect “booty tooch” that would make Tyra proud. She breathes out in an attempt to cool her heated nerves, parting her lips in a way that’s sure to incite some kind of reaction.

Click.

And then, she’s got the shot.

Okay, technically it’s not a nude, but there’s something about the idea of sending this picture to Peter of all people that gets her stomach twisting in knots.

And as her hand hovers over the send button, her heart hammers in her chest, hesitation holding her still. She takes her bottom lip in her teeth, beginning to wonder if this is the best idea. Her plan had been to send the picture, play it off as some kind of mistake, and hope that he goes to… take care of himself. Sure, it might get a reaction out of Peter—one big enough that causes him to give up this whole no nut thing—but it almost feels as if she’s crossing some kind of line.

Miming a blow job on a popsicle was one thing—one that she can’t decide if she’s proud of or not. That was just a performance. It wasn’t something she was doing to Peter. This—sending him a racy picture when he’s literally in the next room—is a direct interference.

Plus, there’s no telling what this would do to their friendship. It could ruin everything. Catastrophically.

Awkward would be an understatement.

She puts her phone face down on the mattress, avoiding the picture all together, before getting up and pulling on one of her comfy robes.

God, all of this was a terrible idea.

Wallowing in her own self-pity and regret, she flops back down onto the bed, grabbing her phone with the intention of deleting the picture once and for all. It’s still there in the text conversation, just waiting to be sent. She scoffs, shaking her head at herself, only for her heart to stop in her chest when—in her frazzled state—she hits “send” instead of that little “x.”

“SHIT.”

No no no no no NONONONONO.

She drops her phone immediately, wrapping her robe tighter around herself as she scrambles for her bedroom door, nearly tripping over her rug in the process.

Peter’s sitting on the couch, blissfully unaware, when his phone pings. And to Michelle’s utter horror, he picks it up.

“NO!” MJ shouts, jumping on top of him. It’s a futile attempt really, seeing as her best friend—she stupidly forgets—is an actual superhero.

Peter yelps as she pushes him down into the couch, tumbling onto the floor, holding his phone away from her grabby hands as she straddles his hips. “What the fuck—” And while he could push her off of him with a ridiculous amount of ease, he stills, becoming suddenly aware of their precarious position.

“Gimme your phone!” Her voice comes out in a half-plea, half-demand. All panic.

Peter still holds it away from her, his own brand of panic flashing across his features when his other hand naturally falls at her hip. He yanks it away, instead holding her back by the shoulder. “Why?”

It’s also then that he sees what she’s wearing—or rather, what she isn’t wearing.

And in his distraction, Michelle snatches his phone, instinctively throwing it across the room. She winces apologetically when he looks up at her, jaw dropped and brow wrinkled.

“What the hell, MJ—”

“—I’m sorry! I panicked!”

“Why?!”

“I—”

It’s then, as they both stare at each other in shock, that they both realize the position they’re in—but neither of them seem to be able to move away, frozen solid on the living room floor.

Peter can feel his heart beating relentlessly in his ears, his throat suddenly going dry when he notices how tightly Michelle’s thighs are holding him in place. Another problem starts to arise when he sees how her cotton robe is pooled around their aligned hips, his eyes catching the sliver of shiny pink underwear when one side falls back. “What—” He clears his throat, his voice coming out uncharacteristically breathy. “—What was on my… my phone?”

“Uh—” She presses her lips together. “A picture.”

Peter’s gaze drifts lower for a split second, dipping to the exposed dip in her chest, drawn to the rise and fall with each breath. “Of?”

“Me?”

“You?”

MJ breathes out a laugh, glancing down. “I, uh—accidentally sent… You a picture. Well—I meant to send it to you, not that like, it wasn’t for you, but I kinda decided not to send it… and then… I did. Accidentally.”

And even though he’s trying everything in his power to keep his eyes on her face, he can’t help the way they seem to travel lower and lower with each second. He’s confused at first, but then, it hits him, like a train, what exactly that picture was. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

The air crackles between them, static in their ears. Michelle finds her own gaze drifting lower, lingering on his parted lips, a warmth pooling in the pit of her stomach. She shifts slightly, her breath catching as she suddenly feels the hardness pressing into the inside of her thigh. Peter stares up at her, something in his eyes bringing her closer, inch by inch. The warmth and weight of both of his hands tentatively, slowly moving to her waist causes something to ignite within her, and in a split-second, her lips are on his.

Michelle’s surprised to find herself… well—surprised—at how this kiss doesn’t immediately turn into an all tongue-and-teeth, ripping-eachother’s-clothes-off kiss. It’s sweet. Slow and tender—as if the two of them are savoring it. Nothing like she’d expected Peter to be capable of. Nothing like how he’d painted himself to be from all of his hook-up stories.

And she’s not entirely sure who’s “fault” it is when it turns into more.

It could be the way she’s subtly grinding her hips against his, her body alight with the friction.

It could be how his tongue swipes over her bottom lip, innocently at first.

It could be her soft, breathy whines as one of his hands moves lower to cup her ass, pulling her closer, the new angle against his hardness bringing an indescribable feeling.

And then again, it could be her robe starting to fall off her shoulders—she’s not sure who starts that, but all of a sudden she’s feeling cool air on her skin.

She almost smiles into the kiss, thinking about how easily and quickly this “chaste” kiss had shifted.

And it’s immediately after that thought that she snaps out of it.

“Wait!” She says, pulling back and sitting up—but still staying in Peter’s lap. Before this can go any further, she has to tell him the truth. He has to be able to… back out of it.

Where this sudden sense of generosity’s come from, she has no idea.

He follows, sitting up with her, brows creasing, his expression a concoction of worry and panic. “Oh, fuck. I’m so sorry—”

“No!” She puts a hand on his shoulder after fixing her robe. Her thumb smooths over the fabric of his shirt. “No. It’s… fine. I just…” Surprisingly, she finds herself chuckling, unable to bite back her smile as he looks at her with concern.

“What is it, Em?”

It’s the nickname for her nickname that does it for her. Truly.

“You good?” He asks, wincing as she shifts in his lap again.

“Yeah, uh—” She coughs, trying unsuccessfully to hide the way her lips are twitching violently as she fights her smile. It takes her more than a few moments, the deep breaths she’s taking not doing all that much to help mask the humor in her tone. “—I know about No Nut November.”

At first, Peter’s confused, staring back at her with furrowed brows, his mouth in a cute little ‘o’. He tries to play dumb, maybe thinking that he can get away with one final attempt to save his pride—letting out a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his neck, he shrugs. “Yeah, my new diet. Crazy, huh?”

She blinks, blankly staring at him. “Peter.” There’s some amusement there, especially as she pointedly glances down to their current position.

“What?” He asks dumbly.

“Ned told me.”

Peter curses, wincing. “Damn it, Ned.”

“Yeah…” In a strange, very unwelcome bout of insecurity, Michelle removes her hands from Peter’s shoulders, twiddling her fingers together in front of her. “I made him tell me… and I kinda… also made him let me in on the bet.”

His eyes nearly bug out of his head. “What?!”

“We kinda made our own bet that like… If you lasted less than a week, I would get all the money.”

“You didn’t think I’d last a week?” Peter almost takes offense at that, even if there’s merit to her prediction. “Damn, MJ…”

“I mean… I also wanted to win. So… I kinda tried—or I guess have been trying… to sabotage you?”

At that, his jaw drops. “No! Wait—You—What? I—” He stammers like that, his brain short-circuiting as she still watches from his lap. “That was—what? The porn? On my laptop?”

MJ nods, grimacing.

“The… underwear? Just in the couch?”

“Yeah…”

“And you were gonna…” He looks down at her, the cotton robe still just barely tied around her—the journey his eyes make also coinciding with his mouth going dry once again. “...That picture you took…?”

She nods again, looking down at her hands.

“Putting your head on my lap?!” He asks, as if he of all people is scandalized.

“That wasn’t part of the plan. That was kinda what helped me figure out that… I could just… do it myself.”

“Oh my God,” he puts a hand on his face. “The popsicle. The fucking popsicle.”

“That was probably my best work, honestly.”

“That was so cruel.”

And when he laughs, his eyes crinkling, she starts to see that maybe this will all be okay, and a sense of relief fills her chest. “Yeah, sorry. I also had Felicia help.”

“You put her up to that?!”

“Nah. She offered. I felt kinda weird about it—” She says the last part without realizing it, immediately shutting her mouth.

“That’s why I said no,” Peter replies.

It’s Michelle’s turn to be surprised. “What? Really? I thought it was just ‘cause you were so dedicated to this whole no nut thing.”

“I mean, yeah, I was but—” He laughs, reaching a hand up to smooth the curls at the base of his neck. “—I just… felt weird about it. With you guys being friends and all.”

The way MJ’s heart flutters is strange, but not entirely unwelcome. “Why would that be weird?”

“Why did you think it’d be weird?” He throws back, his lips twisting into a curious grin.

And not for the first time when talking to Peter, Michelle feels all knowledge of the English language leave her body. It’s strange, how much confidence she can have while literally dry-humping him on the living room floor, but how scared she can be trying to explain something about how she feels.

She only shrugs.

A beat passes, and still, Michelle can’t bring herself to move.

“So…” Peter draws out after another moment. “All that—” he clears his throat. “—stuff… that was just to win that bet?”

“Well, I mean—yeah?” The look of hurt on his face makes her heart lurch in her chest. She’s quick to correct herself. “But—I… I think maybe that could be a good thing.”

His brows raise in careful curiosity, though he still seems apprehensive. “A good thing?” He asks slowly.

Michelle nods, swallowing. “Uh—Yeah. ‘Cause… If I hadn’t then I wouldn’t have figured out that—um… I might—” It’s weird, how frustrating it is that she can’t seem to find the words she wants to say, that her brain seems to have completely abandoned her in her greatest, most dire time of need. And this shouldn’t be this hard. She’s an adult. She’s in her third year of college.

Confessing the feelings that you’ve just realized you have for your best friend since high school should be easy right?

Right?

And she’s only just figured this out. In the last five seconds. That all these years of weird feelings, long glances, warm faces has actually lead to something, they’ve actually meant something other than a weird stomach bug or whatever.

All it took was attempted sabotage during No Nut November for her to realize that.

The power it has.

“MJ?”

His voice grabs her attention; the caution in his tone snapping her gaze to his. And for a moment, she just looks at him, mouth hanging open as she tries to say something, anything. But still, she can’t.

So, she does the next best thing.

She kisses him—again—trying her best to put all of the words she can’t seem to figure out into it. And although he kisses her back—easily—he doesn’t seem to understand what she means, because he pulls away not ten seconds later.

“Listen—MJ—” Peter stammers, running a jittery hand through his hair as he breathes out a huff of laughter. “—I don’t think I can do—” He gestures between the two of them. “—This… if it’s just… casual.”

So, he really didn’t get it, and now, she’s feeling the impatience creeping up her neck.

“I really like you, MJ,” he confesses, and for a moment, she’s not sure if she heard him right, or if she heard him speak at all. Her brain must be playing some nasty, cold-hearted trick on her, because Peter—perpetually single and ready to mingle Peter—just said that he liked her.

God, she feels like she’s a teenager again. It feels so high school, the amount of butterflies in her stomach hearing him say that.

Even more so when she finds herself responding automatically, “I really like you, too.”

“Cool,” he says lamely, his breathless chuckle making her heart flutter in her chest.

He doesn’t waste another second before he tugs her back to him, capturing her lips to his, one of his hands moving to cup the underside of her jaw. She tilts her head, letting out a gentle sigh as he deepens the kiss. His tongue brushes against her lips before slipping into her mouth. The weight of his other hand on her waist is comforting in a way, heavy and solid as he holds her in place.

Truly, she hadn’t expected any of her plans from earlier in the week to come to this.

Instinctively, her hand snakes down to his hips, sliding underneath the hem of his t-shirt and dragging across his stomach, smiling into the kiss as his muscles twitch underneath her touch. It’s then, as her hand dips even lower, palming him over his sweats that he seems to snap out of whatever trance she put him in.

He grabs her wrist—gently, of course—pulling it away and breaking the kiss.

His chest is heaving with each breath, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in an apologetic smile. “I—I can’t—the… the bet.”

And it dawns on Michelle then, that she’s been cockblocked by No Nut November.

Even though she tries to appear understanding, he must be able to see the disappointment in the twist of her lips, the way she nods quietly.

“But—” He starts, pressing his mouth together into a thin line. He nudges her, pointing his finger as he’s hit with a revelation, talking slowly. “—You’re not… doing… No Nut November…”

MJ lets out a surprised laugh, shifting in his lap as her face warms even more. A beat passes as she stares at him, giving him a chance to take it back. “Are you sure?” She finally asks.

Peter nods quickly, insistently. He’s got this. Clearly. “Oh. Yeah. Definitely. I’ll be fine.”

Yeah, she’s not sure how much of that she actually believes.

Probably none of it.

But, that doesn’t mean she’s turning down the offer.

“Okay…” She trails off, unable to bite back her grin at the brief self-doubt that flashes across his features. “What do you—what do you wanna do?” She asks, her face burning, suddenly finding herself the slightest bit tongue tied. It takes everything in her to at least look calm and not like she’s about a half-second away from just jumping his bones.

Or, one in particular.

Peter clears his throat, the tips of his ears turning an adorable shade of red. “Uh—” He huffs out a laugh. “I mean… Whatever you’re comfortable with? I’m cool with whatever you want.”

He’s cool. Okay. Yeah.

She shifts her weight again, biting back a smirk when he inhales sharply as she brushes against the hardness in his gray sweats. “Sorry.” Feeling merciful, Michelle climbs off of his lap, sitting back against the couch, curling her legs underneath her. “Any ideas?”

Though, Peter can’t seem to tell if he’s happy with this new development or not—as hard as it was having her sitting on him. “Um—” And his expression tells her that he does have one. “I could…” He coughs again. “I could go down on you?”

It’s funny, how casually he says it, like he’s offering to give her a ride to the airport, or something. But it still makes her ears ring.

“Yeah,” she says, nodding slowly. She swallows. “That sounds—that sounds good.”

“We should probably—” He gestures to his bedroom door, huffing out a laugh. “—not do this out here.”

“Probably,” she snorts.

The speed at which he scrambles to stand and runs to his bedroom, compared to her somewhat-leisurely pace, makes her let out the most undignified laugh.

A silence falls between them as he shuts the door, the click echoing. MJ takes a moment to glance around his room—literally a single moment, because in the next he’s wrapping his arm around her waist, yanking her to him and crashing his lips to hers. His hands are greedy, twisting handfuls of the soft fabric of her robe, finding purchase on her ass and grinding her against his hardness.

MJ revels in the groan he lets out as she melts into him, her hands winding themselves in his soft curls, twisting and tugging ever so slightly.

He guides her to the bed, pausing to gently lay her back on the mattress before crawling over her, his mouth finding itself on the underside of her jaw, his lips and tongue dragging along the column of her throat. With one hand, he prises her legs apart, happily settling between them while his other fumbles with the tie of her robe.

His eyes meet hers first, silently asking for permission, before pulling the thick string back. His eyes darken as Michelle helps him slip the robe back, leaving her almost completely bare underneath him. He unconsciously wets his lips as his eyes hungrily rake over the expanse of her body—he feels as if the only accurate description for how he feels at this moment being a deer caught in really well-defined headlights.

She thinks for a moment that he’s just going to do this—stare at her—instead of, well, what he said he’d do.

But he doesn’t seem to have that kind of patience. He lurches forward, his mouth hot on her neck, trailing open-mouthed, wet kisses down to her collarbone, her sternum, the swell of her right breast.

She bites back a gasp as he takes her nipple into his mouth, her back arching off the bed as his tongue swirls around it, palming the other with his hand. It’s a sight to see for sure, Peter’s head on her chest, his curls tickling her skin.

His trail continues, back to the dip in her chest, lower and lower, his kisses hot on her stomach, down to her hips, the lace trim of her thong.

Peter sits back on his heels, breathless as he looks down at her. “Fuck—” He curses, drawn to the damp patch in the middle of the soft faux-satin, how it clings to her.

He doesn’t give it another second, hooking his thumbs around the lace and roughly pulling them off of her legs.

He’s diving his head down in the next instant, his lips leaving scorching kisses on the inside of her thighs. He thinks that he can maybe tease her, trying to slow his pace as he gets closer and closer to where she wants him to be.

(Okay, it’s where he wants to be, too.)

He pulls back a little, trying not to smile too much at the disappointed edge in her shuddering sigh. As much as his mouth waters with her so close to him, he controls himself. Kind of. To a degree. He takes a finger, experimentally teasing her entrance, his sweats—somehow—tightening at Michelle’s quiet gasp as he touches her. There, he collects her wetness, coating his finger in her arousal, swirling it over her cunt, around her clit. And he sits there, marveling at how impossibly wet she is already.

Though, it’s not long, probably less than a minute, before his impatience kicks in again.

He thinks he might actually die if he doesn’t eat her out.

Dramatic? Maybe.

Valid?

Who’s to say?

But he can’t help himself, and any thought about slowing down is thrown out the window as he licks a long stripe up her center, his eyes rolling back as he tastes her. He dives right back in, his tongue circling her entrance, lapping her up.

And Michelle can’t help but notice how at home he looks between her legs, how in his element he is as he moves to start sucking on her clit, flicking it back and forth with his tongue as he teases her with two fingers.

His eyes meet hers and she wonders how on earth she’s going to survive this, especially when those two fingers push into her, curling as he pumps them in and out.

“Shit—Peter!” She cries, her back fully lifting off the mattress as he picks up his pace, moaning against her.

Clearly he’s enjoying this, too.

A choked gasp slips from her lips when he slows suddenly, his eyes locking with hers again before picking back up even harder and faster than before. She reaches down, tangling her hand in his messy curls, holding him in just that right spot. Her thighs try to close on him, trapping him in as the coil in her tightens, but his free hand grips her, holding her in place. And she can’t fight the way her hips buck against him as she begins to grind herself against his face.

It builds and builds, teetering just on that beautiful edge, when Peter adds a third finger—and then, she’s seeing stars, her brain going fuzzy as all of her muscles tense, electricity shooting from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. She comes with a strangled moan, panting as her body’s overcome with pleasure.

Peter’s movements slow, and he pulls off of her sensitive clit, wiping his mouth with the back of his arm, before taking each finger into his mouth, sucking them clean.

MJ sits up on her elbows, her chest heaving with each breath as she watches him—and at that moment, her eyes drawn to the hard line in his sweats, she curses No Nut November again, because honestly, she’s never wanted him to fuck her more, never been so angry at a single month.

He seems to be in the same fire, his expression wrought with the inner turmoil he feels. His eyes screw shut, and he pinches the bridge of his nose, trying desperately to ignore how painfully hard he is, how he can feel his dick pulsing already, and how stupidly hot and beautiful MJ is.

His decision’s made before he opens his eyes.

Michelle lets out a surprised yelp as he leaps on top of her, his mouth on hers before she can start laughing. Somehow, his hands are greedier as they explore her body, squeezing and kneading her breasts, her waist, her hips, down to her ass.

None of that’s to say that she’s complaining, though. Peter just ate her out like it was his full-time job, like he was stopping crime as Spider-Man. As far as she’s concerned, he can do whatever he wants right now.

It’s when he starts to take his sweats—and boxers—off that she gets confused, if not a little too hopeful.

“What about the bet?” She asks breathlessly when he pulls back.

He holds her gaze, his lips curving into a sly grin. “Fuck the bet.”

If there’s a god, Michelle wants to thank her right now.

Peter’s hands grip her thighs, his fingers digging into her skin as he wraps them around his waist. He takes his dick in his hand, pumping a few times, swiping it down her center, tapping her clit, before Michelle suddenly remembers to use their one collective brain cell.

“Wait—” she gasps. “Condom.”

Peter curses under his breath, hanging his head for a moment, biting his lip. “Yeah. Yeah. You’re right.”

If she thought he was fast running to the bedroom, watching him scramble through his bedside drawers looking for a rubber is something else. A giggle—a fucking giggle—bubbles up out of her at his relief when he finds one.

He rolls it on quickly, expertly, days of No Nut November clearly not slowing him down.

He’s back on her in the next second, eager as he gathers her arousal and coating himself with it.

They both let out a string of curses as he pushes into her—finally. Peter screws his eyes shut, taking a shuddering breath as he feels how warm and snug she is around him, almost unable to believe how well she fits him. MJ grips his shoulder, face burning as he gives her a moment to adjust, a moment to take all of him in.

When he starts to move, they both wonder again why they hadn’t been doing this in the first place.

As with everything else, Peter doesn’t waste their time. Even though he revels in how fucking amazing she feels around him, how he can’t even remember the last time this felt so good, so right, he picks up a steady pace, fucking into her like it’s the last chance he’ll get. He hikes her leg higher on his waist, the new, deeper angle causing Michelle to arch her back, a wet moan ripping through her.

“Peter—” She chants his name over and over, unable to say anything else as his hips snap into hers. “Fuck—”

“God, MJ, you’re so fucking good,” his voice is almost a growl, lower and more desperate than he’s ever sounded. “Taking me so well.”

Michelle should’ve guessed he was one for dirty talk, though she can’t say she’s surprised.

Or that she minds.

Peter bites back a groan, stilling momentarily as she clenches around him, burying his face in the crook of her neck. He’s already so close, teetering just on the edge, but he’s filled with a sense of determination at the sting of her nails digging into his shoulders.

His hand trails down her stomach, his thumb pressing her clit, scrubbing furiously as he pumps in and out of her. She squeezes him again, head thrown back, slack-jawed as he tilts her hips even further, the new angle causing a string of curses to spill from her lips. Her muscles spasm around him as she comes for a second time, her eyes screwed shut as she clings to him for dear life. His own orgasm crashes over him, and he moans loudly into her skin, holding her to him , fingers digging into her hips as he comes undone.

It’s something MJ can’t help but want to see again. And again.

He flops down on top of her, his head on her chest as he struggles to catch his breath.

Her hand comes to smooth down his curls at the nape of his neck, and she smiles as he shifts his head to look up at her.

“God, fuck No Nut November,” He breathes into her skin.

A light laugh bubbles up out of her.

He lets out a heavy sigh. “What day is it?” He asks.

“November fifth.”

He groans, squeezing his eyes shut. “Damn.” He pulls out of her, standing up to throw the condom away, almost missing the bin in the corner of the room.

“You made it longer than I thought you would,” Michelle laughs.

Peter flops down next to her, his eyes narrowed, though there’s still a smile on his face. “What?”

“Well, yeah. I bet Ned that you wouldn’t last a week,” she replies, patting him on the chest as she gets up, disappearing into the bathroom.

Peter’s eyes widen before he covers them with his hands. “Oh. Shit. Ned.”

He’s still there when she comes back; still naked, too.

“Ned, doesn’t have to know,” MJ says, falling back into the bed with him.

Peter peeks out from underneath his arm. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. We can like, pretend you’re still doing it.”

There’s a crooked grin on Peter’s face as he stares at her—a look that makes her insides gooey and heart fuzzy.

And she hates how much she doesn’t hate it.

“And when Betty inevitably breaks Ned,” she shrugs. “We can split the money.”

He shakes his head, amazed and somewhat scandalized. “MJ, you’re a genius.”

Again, she shrugs.

“So, we can keep doing—” He gestures between them, brows raised. “—And let Ned lose. The money’s ours.”

“Right.”

He lamely sticks his hand out, offering for her to shake on it.

“Deal?” He asks.

She kisses him. “Deal.”

#spideychelle #petermj #petermjane #peter parker x michelle jones #peter parker #michelle jones #thotumn #day 11 #no nut november #rated: e

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trillian-anders · 4 years ago

Text

cheese fries

pairing: chef!bucky x plus!reader

warnings: fluff, domesticity, smut

word count: 1.5k

description: chef!au; bucky knows exactly what you like.

note: i forget who asked me for cheese fries, i’m so sorry! but i’m back guys 🥰

It felt new every time.

The way his fingertips, calloused, would skim the surface of your skin. Light enough to tickle, firm enough to make goosebumps break out on your skin in anticipation for what follows. A Pavlovian response. Your mouth salivating, panting for what comes next. Some process instilled in you for when those fingers danced on the nape of your neck, they’d soon be between your legs.

The only problem was that you weren’t home.

The tunnel vision of those fingers fades away, and the sounds of the crowd pulls you back to reality. Your mouth coated with salt from the fried potatoes and cheese that you’d been eating. The laughter of the crowd around you, loud conversations, and children being told not to run across the planks of the boardwalk.

The sun had made its way behind you and away from the shore. Bucky’s cheeks were red from the heat. Sun scorched from the lack of sunscreen.

You couldn’t even remember the last time you’d been to Coney Island. The electric show of carnival rides and neon bulbs shaped into pizza slices and ‘open’ signs starting as the sky begins to darken. The two of you enjoying your fried food dinner that sat a little too heavily in your stomach. Hotdogs wolfed down before picking at the salty cheese smothered fries.

A day spent on rides and feeling the heat from the sun as you drank fresh squeezed lemonade and sat thigh to sticky thigh eating ice cream in the afternoon.

You could taste the salt on his lips, whether it was from the fries or brine from the sea you couldn’t tell. But it made you irreversibly thirsty. The deep kiss, borderline obscene with PDA the two of you didn’t usually share, was fueled partially by what was once sitting in those thin plastic cups with beer foam still coating the insides.

Buzzed and happy. Floating almost.

“You wanna get out of here?” A whisper against your lips.

It always made you weak. The way he would grip the meat of your thighs. His large palms massaging the flesh he savored there. His lips following suit. Tracing patterns on your already shaking legs. Your Bucky was a giver, the only question was tonight, how much would he give?

His hands around your waist, gripping the flesh there tight enough to hold you to his face. Your thighs trapped against his biceps, hand splayed over your mons, thumb pulling back the hood of your clit to create a delicious friction on his tongue. Almost too sensitive and a recipe to make you cum in less than three minutes. Your hands gripping his hair at the root as you feel your orgasm wash over you, thighs trembling against his head as you swim in the feeling. You’re shaking, but it’s not over yet.

The tip of his cock dragging against the sheets as he presses a kiss above your belly button, then right below your breasts, on your sternum, tongue running against your neck before settling back on your lips. His mouth tangy with the taste of you, his body hot against yours you could feel the firm flesh of him against your labia.

A soft press and he’s between your lips, the sensitive tip of his dick rubbing against your still aching clit making you shiver.

His lips wrapped around your tongue in a gentle suck, the husky sound of his voice, “I love you so fucking much.” The wet sound of your mouths meeting, “So fucking beautiful.” Sitting back on his heels his hands met the flesh of your hips again, hand grasping himself at the root he slaps the tip of him against your sensitive flesh pulling an eye-rolling moan from your lips. A stroke of him against your clit once, twice, three times before he presses against your entrance.

The burn of it, the stretch. It has ruined you. Sex with Bucky was the best sex you’d ever had. You’d never recover.

Your hips met his, the entirety of his dick inside you, pressed softly against your cervix grinding himself against your sensitive flesh before he pulls back, a shuddering breath leaving your lips as he found what he was looking for. A gasp as the tip of him brushed your g-spot. His hand coming to press hard against your mons, pushing that sweet spot harder against him as he began to rock in and out. Your hands grip his forearms, body stiff with pleasure as you are victim to the practiced assault of your nerve endings. The veins in his arms pronounced as he shows his control.

He wants you to cum, and he knows exactly what you need to do it. That hand pressing your g-spot against his dick, thumb circling your clit. Your legs are trembling, body shaking as the volume in the room increases. Your involuntary moans, the grunts and pants leaving his mouth, the rough slap of your hips meeting.

Your vision spots, eyes rolling back as your body stiffens, your walls contracting around his dick as you cum for the second time. A wet gush around his cock as he rides you through it. “Oh fuck.” He moans, hips losing rhythm as he finds his own release. The heat of his orgasm pressed tightly against your cervix as your legs continue to tremble in the aftershocks of the heat.

His mouth pressed hotly against yours. “I love you,” mumbled against your lips.

You watched him chop potatoes into shoestrings. A roux made to melt about a pound of cheese. Your legs still weak and slightly trembling, you’re set at the kitchen island, a large glass of water drained in front of you, the Brita pitcher almost empty in the middle of the island as he dropped the potatoes into the deep fryer.

“We should have gotten two orders earlier.” He said, about the order of cheese fries you decided to split on the boardwalk. Thick cheese sauce on top of salted crispy fries, a shave of white truffle, his chest pressed to your back. Close and affectionate. It was unclear if Bucky’s love language was acts of service or physical touch, but he’d greedily take anything you could give him.

“These are so much better though,” You hum around a group of hot fries held between your fingers. His face buries itself in your neck, pressing a kiss or two before sighing with contentment. His fingers pluck some fries from the plate, stuffing them in his mouth as you say, “I don’t want you to work tomorrow.” A gentle nod,

“I know baby.” You had gotten used to him working on the weekends, the busiest time of the week for restaurants. But it didn’t make it any easier that after a full week of work you’d spend your weekend, mostly, alone. Another kiss pressed to your neck. “Why don’t you come in close to close? I’ll make you some dinner.” The bottom floor closed around 11 pm on the weekends, the upstairs bar staying open until almost 3 am with limited bar snacks so Bucky would usually be home after dinner was finished, after he helped close and clean most of the kitchen.

The habit was to show up around 10 pm and sit at the downstairs bar where Bucky’s laptop usually sat out with some paperwork, a weekly changing specials menu and food product to be ordered. He’d make you some dinner and have a couple drinks while he finished his shift and would join you to eat his dinner and finalize the paperwork as the servers finished their last tables and cleaning tasks for the evening.

His tired palm against your thigh as the bartender served the two of you and the servers their shift drinks, jovial conversation as they counted their tips, the soft bass of the upstairs the backdrop to finish a busy night.

He seemed happy here, and you couldn’t help but be proud of him. Loose strands of hair tucked behind his ear as he typed up the kitchen notes for Sam to read in the morning. Laughing with the conversation about a shitty guest one of the servers had that day. The plate in front of you, an experiment of something that would appear on next week’s menu. A Cajun style roasted and caramelized pork belly on a bed of grits. A sweet and spicy flavor that you were pretty pleased with.

You admired him here, the success of his restaurant giving him the validation that he’d made the right choice. That what he loved to do was what he was meant to do. And it made you think, maybe you should actually send your book out to publishers, and maybe your dream job would be realized too.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #captain america #sam wilson #sebastian stan #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws #steve rogers

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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

Text

Pulling Leaves Off Trees, Chapter 1: Been Through the Wringer a Couple Times (Multi) - Sportkuras

Summary:

c’est bon: damnnn

c’est bon: wait. jan isnt your apartment near shea’s

human girl: @jansport spill

Jan could feel her stomach drop as she looked at the message.

“Oh, goddamn it.”

—

Or: The girls try to survive college, and everything else that comes with almost being an adult.

A/N: my first fic here on artificialqueens! i noticed that arent many college au’s and group chat fics of the s12 cast so i let myself be self-indulgent for once!! its unbeta’d so apologies lmao but you can talk to me here and you can find the ao3 link here! comment if you’d like!

***

Jan started her morning like almost every college student in their third year would: to be woken up by their alarm after a night of heavy drinking. She woke up with a start and groaned as Chromatica II started blaring from her phone, blindly reaching for it on her nightstand and peering at the time.

Damn. One in the afternoon, huh?

“Thank god I don’t have class today.” The blonde muttered as she checked her notifications: 7 from Twitter, 3 from Insta, and 1 from their group chat. She sat up from her bed and scrolled through the chat, trying to quell her pounding headache.

Bon Voy

Members: jaidaessencehall, heidininacloset, jansport, jackiecox, gigigoode, crystalmethyd, britafilter, dahliasin, nickydoll, aidenzhane, and widowvondu

lebron essence ball: okay so

lebron essence ball: me and shea are at the library rn and she’s complaining to me abt how she couldnt sleep right

lebron essence ball: and chile….it was bc someone was getting RAILED last night lmaooo

lebron essence ball: she said, and i quote, “the bitch had such a good time even I’M jealous”

c’est bon: damnnn

c’est bon:wait. jan isnt your apartment near shea’s

human girl: @jansport spill

human girl: also

human girl: feels weird that we didn’t start this day with a good morning announcement from jan

c’est bon: the vibes were off 😞

Jan could feel her stomach drop as she looked at the message, “Oh, goddamn it.” She’s now acutely aware of their apartment door opening and Rock’s footsteps padding from outside her room, most likely just coming home from her class. She suddenly remembered exactly what happened last night; most especially memories of what happened between her and her roommate . Memories of them being drunk as hell, coming back to their apartment from god knows how many bars, going to Jan’s room giggling like teenagers on a sleepover and well. You know.

Jan checked her phone again.

lebron essence ball: jannette….would you happen to know who was the lucky gal? 👀

backpack backpack: good morning to you too gigi 🙄

human girl: *Afternoon, actually

human girl: Now spill! I know you know almost everyone on that floor.

She pinched the bridge of her nose. How in the hell was she gonna say that her and Rock got drunk and hooked up as casually as possible? She could lie, but Jaida, Brita and Widow could smell bullshit coming from a mile away, and she’s a horrible liar. They’d know she was bluffing.

Might as well get it over it. She let out a sigh as she typed out a message, hoping that it was only Jaida, Nicky and Gigi who were online.

backpack backpack: haha yeah so um

backpack backpack: that was me & rock actually

Even though no one could see her, Jan hid her face behind her hands, bracing for the worst. Several dings! had come from her phone as soon as she sent the message. Of course it wasn’t only Jaida, Nicky and Gigi who were online.

cox destroyers: Oh my god.

Jan’s eyes widened when she saw Jackie reply, although she’s not quite sure why she was panicking about Jackie knowing about her hook up with Rock in the first place. All she knows is that she’s gonna have to face Jackie (and everyone else, for that matter,) later.

sin city: ohhh bitch—

c’est bon: you and ROCK???

dom top: !!!

dom top: idk who Rock is but get it sister

backpack backpack: Thank you! Thank you, Heidi. It’s like you’re the only one who’s not acting weird right now.

c’est bon: lmao heidi

c’est bon: she’s jans roommate

human girl: Janice Elizabeth Sport.

von du for two: not this shit again i swear to god

tap water: Jan.

tap water: You know that I love you

tap water: BUT WILL YOU PLEASE STOP SLEEPING WITH YOUR ROOMMATES

Jan rolled her eyes at the messages, wanting the ‘news’ to be over as soon as possible. “And they say I’m the dramatic one.” She huffed as she quickly typed on her phone again.

backpack backpack: okay can y’all chill 🙄

backpack backpack: we just got drunk and slept together, that’s all.

backpack backpack: tell shea im sorry though xxxx @jaidaessencehall

lebron essence ball: bitch you know it ain’t about having a drunk hookup with someone

lebron essence ball: its about the fact that you banged your roommate AGAIN

backpack backpack: oh COME ON

backpack backpack: this was just the second time!!

backpack backpack: and lemon’s with priyanka now!!!

von du for two: girl you & lemon were fucking almost every week i can’t with u

von du for two: going at it like rabbits while we were outside your apartment getting ready to watch glee :/

tap water: and, frankly, i don’t want to come up to your apartment to run lines with you if i have to hear y’all fooling around. my good, christian ears have heard enough.

She felt her face heat up in embarrassment.

backpack backpack: oh my god can you guys please shut up!!!!

backpack backpack: it’s not gonna happen again bc it was a one time thing

backpack backpack: i promise

human girl: [dwayne the rock johnson voice] are you sure about that?

backpack backpack: yes georgina goode i am 100% sure

Jan bit her lip as she looked up at the door to her room. Okay, she’s not 100% sure, but not because she regretted it or anything. As much as her brain was allowing her to remember, last night was good. Great, even. But between auditions, college, and working in the café, her love life (or lack thereof) is on pause for now. Besides, it’s not like anyone has been actively pursuing her, or vice versa.

But it wouldn’t hurt to ask Rock, right?

Sighing in defeat, Jan quickly got up from her bed with her phone still in her hand (as much as her hangover allowed her), left her room and knocked on her roommates door, hoping that she wasn’t busy. She heard a faint “come in!” from the other side and opened the door softly.

“Hey, roomie.” She joked.

Rock looked up from her drawing tablet and slipped off the headphones from her ears. “Glad to see you’re finally awake, and here I thought you were a morning person.” Rock’s room was a mess of color and paraphernalia; while Jan’s was strictly purple, pop culture, and musical theater, hers was an array of figurines and albums on the shelves, kpop & anime posters tacked on the wall behind her bed reaching up to the ceiling, and a somewhat decent gaming setup in the corner of her room. Crystal and Nicky would be proud.

Jan rolled her eyes, “Yeah, well, last night was something,” She slightly cleared her throat at the mention of last night. “Also, about last night…”

Rock raised her brow, “Go on?”

“It was a one time thing, right?” Jan furrowed her brows in question, “I mean, last night was amazing , as much my brain is allowing me to remember. And you’re hot, so, I’m not complaining. Really dig the anime e-girl vibe, and I’m sure anyone would tap that ass! I mean, I did, but I’m just—”

“—Not looking for anything right now?” Rock cut her off, saving Jan from turning into a hungover, rambling mess.

She let out a sigh of relief, sitting on her roommates bed and putting her phone down, “Yeah, doll. Just been really busy right now, y’know? 3rd year isn’t a joke.”

The pink-haired girl let out a snort, “Oh, I know the feeling. And don’t worry, I wasn’t looking for anything either, and while last night was fun,” She looked at her pointedly, and Jan was calm enough to actually smirk at the incident between the two, “I’d much rather have you as my friend than as my fuck buddy, because you are loud , girl!”

Jan shrieked at that, “Oh my god, shut up!” She threw a pillow at Rock’s head while the girl let out a cackle, “My friends were on my ass about that too, some friends they are.”

“Wait, you told your friends about that? Aren’t you friends with Nicky?”

Jan huffed, “Mama, more like I was forced to tell them. Jaida’s friend, Shea—whose apartment is next to ours, by the way—was complaining to her about how she couldn’t sleep last night because of, um, my tendency to be vocal.”

“You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Rotted bitch!” Jan threw another pillow at Rock, this time missing because the girl was doubled over in laughter, “I can’t believe you! The disrespect, really. I shouldn’t be taking this from you, I still have a shift to do at 3.”

“But you took it from me real good last night, so,” this time Rock shielded her face as Jan threw pillow after pillow at her, trying to speak through her laughter, “Okay, okay! I give, I give! I’m sorry, mom!”

“Bitch! I can be a top if I want to!” Jan exclaimed in mock offense. As their laughter subsided, the blonde suddenly had an idea, “Oh! What if I invite you over for dinner?”

Rock smirked, “One: we’re roommates. It’s not really inviting me to dinner if we eat in the same room. And two: I thought you said you weren’t looking for anything?”

“I mean dinner with my friends, gorg. All 11 of us eat together at least once a week, this time we’re gonna crash at Heidi, Jaida and Brita’s. Maybe you wanna come and meet them? I know you and Nicky know each other somehow, so it wouldn’t be too awkward, right?”

“Introducing me to the family already? Ain’t that a bit too early for you, Ms. Sport?”

“More like introducing you to a bunch of kindergartners,” Jan muttered as she checked her phone for any new notifications, “But yeah, I want them to know you as my roommate and friend , not as my roommate who I slept with.”

Bon Voy

dom top: okay so jans sex life aside

dom top: y’all are still coming over tonight?

sin city: yes girl!! college sucks ass sm i need to eat my feelings

c’est bon: wouldn’t miss it for the world mon ami xoxo

cox destroyer: I’m gonna be a little late! I just have to return and borrow some stuff in the library.

human girl: can we please order pizza hut <3

lebron essence hall: no <3

von du for two: we are going to order dominoes like civilized people

human girl: ugh fine, all of you have 0 taste

human girl: crys said yes btw she just has class right now

tap water: aiden said she’s gonna come too, she just can’t message the chat bc she’s still in her shift

Jan grinned at Brita’s message, finally getting the chance to steer the conversation away from her.

backpack backpack: So if she can’t message the chat because of her shift, why’s she messaging you, miss brittany filter?? 👀

Jan can feel Brita’s eye roll from miles away.

tap water: She speaks!

tap water: And don’t act like this conversation isn’t over, Miss Janice Sport. You have a lot of explaining to do.

“So, are ya gonna introduce me as your forbidden, but passionate lover? Whose romance was short-lived, yet wild, fiery and unforgettable?”

Now it was Jan’s turn to let out a cackle as she left Rock’s room, “More like my chaotic mess of a roommate who farted herself awake!”

This time it was Rock’s turn to gasp in offense, “That was one time and you fucking know it! And my answer is yes, by the way!”

Jan sent a message to the chat before grabbing her towel and putting her phone away to take a shower.

backpack backpack: oh btw i’m inviting rock to hang out with us!!! I promise she’s super fun and that we’re just roommates and see y’all soon please dont kill me or make it awkward with rock xxxx

tap water: are you

tap water: kidding me.

von du for two: oh for the love of GOD

***

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writethehousedown · 4 years ago

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And the Livin’s Easy Chapter One (Multi) - Zyan

a/n: me? doing yet another multi-chapter for the challenge? how original. this idea came to me while i was watching hawaii five-0 and i just ran with it. i have no actual knowledge of how the surfing world works, i’m a simple kick boxing fighter, so please bear with me and the in-accuracies you’ll find. the rest of the characters mentioned in the summary will appear in the next chapter :D my sideblog is @chachkisalpaca - oh, and also, frey is an absolute angel for beta-ing this. hope you enjoy!

Summary: The surfing season in Honolulu is at its peak, with every surfer, old and new, having their eyes on the big prize of the Hawaii Surf Association annual competition. As the day of the competition comes closer, Crystal tries to not get distracted with a certain Californian girl, Vanessa swears she’s over Brooke, Yvie tries to seduce the hotel’s lifeguard and Jaida is just witnessing everything go down as she sips on her piña colada.

It’s summertime and the beach is packed.

Crystal doesn’t expect any less, honestly; the summer season is at its peak, plus Honolulu is always a famous tourist spot. No wonder there’s barely a spot to stand in O’Ahu.

The waves are good today and Crystal engages in a playful banter when she encounters some of her fellow surfers while training. There’s a surfing competition next week, a very important one at that, and every surfer and their grandma wants that prize. To think of what she could do with the money — Crystal might just layback for the rest of the season and enjoy some very well deserved vacations before going back to Missouri for yet another college year.

She finds it sad that the waves last only during the summer, because she’s capable of surfing them even when the water temperature is below 0 and would catch a cold for the mere act of standing too close to the water (“Colds start with the feet,” her mother has been telling her since she was a child, and it just stuck.)

But she doesn’t have to worry for the winter that’s still months away; right now she just lets the Sun burn her skin as the water soaks her entire body.

She feels lightheaded, like she’s capable of doing anything while she’s on her surfing board.

“You getting’ better, Glass,” Vanjie shouts, while riding the same wave as her.

Crystal laughs loudly, the nickname ‘Glass’ still sounding so wild to her, she sometimes wonders why and how did Vanjie ever come up with that one.

“What do ya wanna bet that I’ll beat your ass next week,” Crystal yells back, and Vanjie cocks a brow, focused on keeping her balance.

“Fuck off, I bet you won’t even last the rest of training without falling.”

“If I make it through training without falling you’re buying me a drink at Sal’s.”

Vanjie meets her gaze for a brief second and laughs shortly.

“Es más fácil decirlo que hacerlo, but you got a deal, bitch.” She winks at her and Crystal takes it upon herself to win that bet.

“Veamos si puedes conmigo, perra.”

Gigi is, decidedly, not a beach person.

She gets it; the water looks pretty under the Sun, the palms make a good background for an Instagram picture, and her bathing suit fits her like a glove, drawing attention from both men and women, but despite all this — she just can’t take how crowded it is, the children running around and yelling like banshees, how cold the water is, the dirty people that leave their trash behind, and a long etcetera.

Brita’s been so kind to invite them to their family’s house in Honolulu for a few weeks, Gigi is very much aware of it, which is why she tries not to be a gigantic bitch while they’re on the beach; she doesn’t want Brita to kick her out, basically.

Besides, Honolulu is very pretty. One of the most beautiful cities she’s ever visited, actually. She doesn’t mind the rest of it; it’s this specific part of the city that she dreads. She’s also very aware of the irony of agreeing to go to a place that’s famous for its beaches while hating beaches, thank you very much.

She applies a generous amount of sunscreen to every inch of her body, still sitting under the umbrella and ignoring her friends’ pleas for her to join them in the water. Gigi merely says that she’ll meet them in a moment, and though they’re not very convinced by it, they still run towards the sparkly blue water.

Gigi clearly lied; as soon as they’re out of sight, she pulls out her phone and thinks for a moment about taking photos for her Instagram — if she’s going to spend most of this trip at the beach, she might as well take advantage of it and take some cute pictures for her feed. She didn’t pack so many bathing suits for nothing.

She’s scrolling through her DM requests —deleting the men, replying to the women— when there’s a sudden uproar from the people sitting around her. They’re cheering for something or someone. Gigi looks around, confused, until she lays eyes on the sea in front of her and the waves crashing against the shore; there are surfers in the waves, naturally, but these seem like the skilled type.

Gigi decides to film it for her Instagram Stories, because why not, they are talented, and Gigi can barely float around in her parents’ pool in a donut floatie without rolling over and drowning.

One of them falls, and the crowd gasps, though Gigi isn’t all that interested in it. Her friends wave at her from the sea and Gigi scrambles to find an excuse not to join them.

Crystal can’t stop laughing, even when they arrive at the shore and all Vanjie does is shout at her, saying that she bewitched her or something, because there’s no way she fell instead of her.

“Get over it, Vanj. You owe me now.”

She sticks her board into the sand, taking her hair tie off and rearranging her hair in a ponytail. Her hair is soaked, clearly, and Crystal’s hands are already tired at the thought of having to shampoo the sea water off it.

Crystal doesn’t mind though, it’s worth it.

Vanjie shots Crystal a deadly glare and rearranges her own hair, groaning slightly as she does so.

“I’m only paying you because a bitch keeps her promises,” she says. “Also, on the note of having drinks, you wanna grab a smoothie before going on with training? But you’re paying for your own drink, ho.”

Crystal laughs wholeheartedly with a nod. She goes to look between the pockets of her bag for money and asks one of her friends to watch her board for her; it’ll just be a moment.

They’re talking about their plans once the competition is done and what would they do if they get the prize money. Vanessa says she’ll pack up her stuff and go back to Puerto Rico for the rest of the summer even if she loses, and will chase waves on her hometown beach. Maybe teach a few of the little ones in her family to surf, if she has the time and patience for it.

“Y’know, the little shits are getting bigger and bigger, and they barely remember their aunt Vanessa! My girl Julia, bless that one, still remembers me — but, bitch, she did her first communion already! Damn, last time I checked she was still five,” Vanjie rambles, and Crystal definitely feels her on a spiritual level.

This is the part she likes about being friends with Vanjie, the fact they both have similar experiences with their Latin families and understand each other in a way most people wouldn’t. Her favourite part of summer is getting to spend it with her.

Crystal says something about her little nephew Mateo —who Vanessa adores, despite having not met him yet, just because his name matches with her surname— and how he’s gotten so big in the blink of an eye, already reaching Crystal’s hip, when she bumps into something.

Or rather, someone.

There’s a gasp and Crystal is wet yet again, though this time it’s sticky and it smells fruity.

“Well, there goes ten dollars,” a voice snarls, and Crystal finally pulls up her gaze to meet the asshole that just spilled their drink all over her.

She finds a woman with long auburn hair, skin pale as snow, think as a rail, with pink plump lips and a pair of icy blue eyes staring right back at her. Crystal thinks it’s a shame that she’s an asshole, because she is really pretty.

“Watch where you walk, pendeja,” Crystal bites back and the woman rolls her eyes, avoiding her as she goes on with her way. Vanjie and Crystal briefly look at her before proceeding with what they were doing. “At least I can wash the stickiness off once we hit the waves again,” she consoles herself, resigned to smell like fruit until she gives her bathing suit a proper wash.

“I hate the beach,” Gigi declares, settling at Jackie’s side with a huff and her arms folded. Jackie quirks an amused eyebrow, barely stifling a laugh, and Nicky casts a side glance at her.

“Why’s that?” Nicky asks, her gaze still glued to her phone.

“Some idiot cost me ten dollars, can you believe? I didn’t even have a sip of that smoothie!” Gigi complains with a whine that’s rather childish. Jackie just laughs, patting her friend’s back.

“If you join us now, I’ll buy you another smoothie later.”

“Fuck off with that motherly tone, Jacqueline,” Gigi says with a laugh, Jackie gasps offended and swats her arm playfully.

“That’s not the way to talk to your friends, baby Geeg!” Jackie scolds her, only making Gigi laugh louder.

Jackie is the eldest of them all (though, to be fair, she’s only a couple months older than Brita) and she’s naturally the mom friend. She’s pulled them out of the bar, called cabs, helped them through heartbreaks, more than Gigi can count (though Gigi isn’t good at counting). It’s only fair she gets to do these jokes.

Gigi pouts and puts on her puppy eyes, locking her hands. “Do you promise to buy me a smoothie, though?” She asks, in a tone so high-pitched she annoys herself.

But never Jackie, she’s got the patience none of them have, so she just nods with an over the top sigh and forcefully drags her to the water.

Gigi hates what the salty water does to her hair, though to be fair — Jackie did buy her a smoothie once they came back to their spot.

Sal’s Shack has grown to be Crystal’s favourite place on the island.

She discovered it when she was a little girl and came to Honolulu for the first time, after her parents saved up for a whole year and her father pushed as much as he could for a promotion at his job. It isn’t just a restaurant or a bar; Sal doesn’t like labels, so he never put one on his establishment.

It’s whatever you want it to be, though it does become a bar after midnight, that title going away once the Sun is up.

When Crystal met Vanjie, almost five summers ago, she took her to Sal’s Shack, and Vanjie was so in love with the place they kept on coming back, with or without the other.

Sal immediately smiles upon seeing them enter, even if the place is already getting crowded, Sal tells them he’d be able to hear Vanjie’s voice from a mile away.

“What can I get you tonight, girls?” He asks, with that warm, kind smile that reminds Crystal of her childhood years.

“I’m in the mood for your spicy meatballs sandwich,” Vanjie says dreamily, prompting Sal to laugh wholeheartedly. Crystal follows her suit by saying she wants a burger, and tells Sal not to be shy with the sauce.

They get settled while they wait, talking about how their college careers are going and how much they want the summer to be endless.

There’s just something about this city that makes it magical, Crystal likes to think. She’s had a few summer flings there, never seeing them again once she packed up her things and came back to Missouri, but each one of them had something special that made Crystal feel as if it wasn’t just a summer fling.

She wonders if she’ll find someone new this time around too, though it isn’t high up in her priority list.

Brita takes them to her uncle’s restaurant-bar-whatever, saying they have to visit it, not only because they serve pretty good cocktails, but also because there are always some hotties hanging around.

Though the idea of a summer hook up is attractive to Gigi, this isn’t Los Angeles; she doesn’t have any cab numbers, she still can’t properly manage herself around, and would consequently get lost trying to come back to the house. She tells herself that she’ll wait a few days until she’s a little more familiar with the place, just in case.

They arrive to the bar —Gigi’s decided to call it a bar for her own sanity—, and much like at the beach, the place is full, and she can’t see a free table.

“Don’t worry, girls,” Brita says, “I called my uncle and told him to save us a table, follow me.” So follow they do. They absentmindedly link hands and elbow their way through the place. The music is blasting through the speakers, there’s a couple of people dancing, and a lot of others just standing with their drinks and nudging on them.

Gigi has to admit Brita was right; there are some attractive people around, and it takes all of Gigi’s willpower not to stare. Perhaps sticking to the rules she’s just imposed on herself won’t be that easy.

They make it to the end of the bar and Brita smiles widely upon seeing her uncle, breaking the chain of hands and launching herself into his arms. The girls stand there awkwardly until they finish their conversation.

“He looks like Brita, but as a man,” Jan comments in a whisper, making Gigi and Nicky laugh. Jackie shushes them, though she agrees under her breath.

Brita introduces them one by one with a wide smile, and Gigi has to admit the resemblance between them is scary. Brita’s uncle gives them a warm welcome and tells them to call him Sal before guiding them to their table. It’s in a corner of the place and they can see everyone and everything, plus, they’re a few feet away from the bar. It’s a nice spot overall.

They get settled and Sal leaves them a few menus with the drinks options, including non-alcoholic drinks, and leaves to go back to work, telling them to look for him if they need anything.

Gigi briefly looks at the menu before setting it aside and looking around the bar, trying to find a face that stands out from the rest — instead, she hears a voice that breaks through the noise and makes a few heads turn around.

They voice comes from a few tables away, right in front of them. There’s a woman with dark, curly hair waving her arms around and talking with her friend, while the other woman sitting in front of her and facing Gigi is dying with laughter.

Gigi squints, finding her face oddly familiar, until it clicks.

Crystal throws her head back as she laughs, bracing her stomach as Vanjie grows louder and louder during her speech.

“And the fucking bitch had the AUDACITY to call me a fucking liar! Can you believe?” Vanjie slams her fist on the table and Crystal is hollering with laughter. She knows she shouldn’t have brought up the fact that her ex is also coming to the competition, but right now Vanjie is too worked up to back down.

For the longest time, Crystal thought Canada didn’t have any surfers — with such a cold weather, how could someone even want to enter the water? But it turns out that Vanjie’s ex, Brooke, is Canadian and a surfer, and she’s going to be competing alongside them. She found out, because she follows Yvie Bridges’ socials, and she posted a picture with Brooke, captioning it with “Excited to be reunited with my sister in Honolulu!” Except with a lot more exclamation marks.

Vanjie quickly tries to backpedal her entire rant by saying she’s not bothered at all by Brooke’s presence, because she’s over her and she’s seeing this girl, Kameron, who she met in a competition in Puerto Rico and is a sports photographer.

Crystal cocks a brow and before Vanjie can further prove to Crystal that she’s not over Brooke at all, she asks her if she wants another round of destornilladores. Vanjie nods effusively, tossing bills to her.

She heads to the bar and perches herself on it, waving at the barman. She places her order and when there’s a seat available, she takes it without hesitation.

Crystal is watching the barman as he mixes her drink, when someone slides into the empty seat next to her. She casts a quick glance over them and has to do a double take when the woman’s face is familiar.

She blinks repeatedly; this is the woman that threw her smoothie at her earlier that day.

It seems that Smoothie Girl recognizes her too, because she stares at her for a moment too long, and somehow Crystal finds the courage to speak up.

“You’re the asshole that threw their smoothie in my bathing suit,” Crystal finally speaks up.

“And you’re the asshole that threw herself into my smoothie,” she shots back, cocking one of her perfectly painted eyebrows, and Crystal has to admit that was a good one.

The barman places her orders in front of her; Crystal quickly pays him and Smoothie Girl takes advantage of his presence to place her own order. Crystal searches for Vanjie’s eyes among the crowd, and she finds her with her stare glued on her. She smiles when she sees their drinks, but frowns when Crystal points at the woman sitting beside her.

It’s her, she mouths, but Vanjie tilts her head, confused. Smoothie Girl, she mouths this time, and Vanjie looks surprised. She starts to mouth things Crystal can’t catch, but she guesses it’s a combination of get your ass over here, and that bitch.

“I’ve been thinking all day about what you called me,” she says, attracting Crystal’s attention again. She frowns, confused.

“What? Pendeja?” She asks, and Smoothie Girl nods. “Oh, that’s Spanish for asshole.”

Smoothie Girls snorts, cocking a brow. “What’s the Spanish word for ‘you owe me ten bucks’?”

“That would be ‘in your dreams,’” Crystal retorts, the brunette rolls her eyes.

She knows Vanjie is watching them closely, her stare burning a hole in Crystal’s neck, in case hands need to be thrown. But she has a feeling she won’t be needing Vanjie’s hands — not that she can say the same about this woman.

The barman leaves a drink in front of Smoothie Girl and she pays with a coquettish smile, Crystal thinks her drink smells way too fruity.

“That smoothie left my bathing suit smelling like fruit even when I washed it three times,” Crystal comments, trying to sound nonchalant. The woman cocks a brow as she sips on her drink. “What flavor was it, anyway?”

She seems surprised by the question, though she’s quick to answer.

“Uh, mango and peach, I think,” she replies and Crystal scrunches up her nose.

“Ugh, that sounds hideous.”

“It’s not! Had you licked your bathing suit you would know it’s very tasty.” She laughs at her own joke, and Crystal finds herself laughing too.

It’s weird how just moments ago they were calling each other assholes and now they’re laughing like nothing happened.

Crystal scoots herself closer in the chair, their knees practically brushing as she tries to catch her gaze.

“You got a name, Smoothie Girl?” She inquires in a casual tone. Smoothie Girl finally meets her gaze, and her blue eyes aren’t as icy as the first time they ran into each other.

“Genevieve, but everyone calls me Gigi.” She offers her hand to shake and Crystal gladly takes it. “And you?”

“I’m Crystal. Some people call me Crys, others Cryssie — and that dumbass over there,” she discreetly points at Vanjie, who’s typing away in her phone, trying to act as if she hasn’t been staring at them for a long minute now, “calls me Glass. Don’t ask me why, she just does.” Crystal shrugs, and Gigi laughs.

She feels some sort of pride blooming in her chest at making Gigi laugh.

“So, Crystal,” Gigi begins. “Do I have to assume you’re a surfer? I mean, what you were wearing when you ran into my smoothie looks like something a surfer would wear.”

Crystal nods enthusiastically, proceeding to tell her that she’s been surfing on and off since she was just thirteen and how she comes to Honolulu every year, rarely shifting her destination for the summer.

In return, Gigi confides her that she’s from California and it’s her first time in Honolulu, saying that her friend —Sal’s niece, apparently— invited them and she just couldn’t say no, even when she isn’t that much of a beach enthusiast. She hates them, in fact.

Upon hearing this, Crystal lets an over the top gasp that makes Gigi go into a fit of giggles, apparently already expecting that reaction.

“What the fuck? Dude, you can’t be serious,” she exclaims, and Gigi continues giggling.

“I’m deadly serious,” she assures her, twirling a strand of hair around her index finger.

“You don’t even like the food or ice cream?”

“I do, I hate the dirty people that leave their trash behind, though.”

“What about the kids? They’re always so cute — running around with their water guns and getting excited over everything. Some remind me of my own little cousins.”

Gigi visibly scrunches up her nose, doing a disgusted face.

“I hate kids, actually.”

Crystal folds her arms in a huff, intently staring at Gigi.

“No, there’s no way you’re that much of a… Beach Grinch,” she blurts out, the embarrassment flooding over her as soon as the words come out from her mouth. Gigi cocks a brow.

“Beach Grinch? Now that’s original,” Gigi says, leaning in closer to Crystal, a wicked smile painted in her lips. “Y’know, though I find the beach extremely boring, I can’t say the same for the people that like it.”

Crystal grins; she’s played this game far too many times, but something in Gigi makes her think this time it won’t be as easy as with the other ones.

Just when she’s lining up a witty reply, Gigi suddenly scoots back, a bashful smile where there used to be a wicked one.

“Sadly, I don’t have the time to think too much about it, ‘cause I’m here to have a good time with my friends. Later!”

She hops off from her chair, bringing her drink with her, and makes her way back to her friends, swaying her hips as she walks and making her skirt fly with the movement.

Crystal takes a moment to realize what Gigi just did, and when she finally pulls herself back together to walk over to Vanjie with their drinks, she tries to convince herself that maybe Gigi is another one of those straight girls wanting to “experiment.” It’s what she says to herself to make her cheeks cool down several degrees.

Vanjie says they can cash the bitch outside if she wants to fight, but Crystal just dismisses her with a wave of her hand.

After they finish their drinks, they hang around at Sal’s for a little longer, dancing when there is a good song playing and talking with strangers, and just before they leave, Crystal looks through the crowd for Gigi’s eyes, and she finds her staring right back. What she sees in her eyes makes her stomach twist.

‘If she’s playing hard to get, then it’s on,’ she thinks, and the next thing she thinks is that Gigi can read her mind, because the wicked smile is back into her face before Crystal withdraws her gaze.

#rpdr fanfiction #past branjie #crygi #brita filter #crystal methyd #gigi goode #jackie cox #jan sport #nicky doll #vanessa vanjie mateo #zyan #and the livin's easy #lesbian au #surfer au #summer lovin' 2020 #day 1: bathing suit #submission

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gottlem · 5 years ago

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3 and 26 with crystal/gigi :)

this one came out a little longer than expected lol but i’m happy with what i came up with ! i haven’t proofread so sorry if there’s any little mistakes !! i just wanna get some content out for y’all :)

(might have to put a tiny tiny tw for coming out/unaccepting parents but its vv minor and everyone is ok and relatively happy!)

3. “Don’t be nervous, you can come closer”

26.”I know it’s embarrassing I still sleep with a night light”

Crystal moved to LA just over a week ago. When she started at a new highschool in the middle of junior year, she expected to be an outsider. Back in Missouri, she had friends, but they had come and gone through the years - after all, she was the ‘weird’ artsy kid. But she would never stop being herself, if people didn’t like that, then that was their problem.

She hadn’t expected to be taken in by a group of friendly faces on her very first day. The first girl she met was Jan, if she hadn’t been smiling so wide it looked almost painful, Crystal would have thought she was one of the mean, popular girls. Though, she hadn’t seemed to see those yet. Jad had bleach blonde hair pulled back in a high pony and she wore a purple tracksuit which hugged her figure perfectly. She had introduced herself to Crystal almost immediately, after noticing that she was a new girl looking confused and lost.

It was that same day she met Gigi Goode. Jan had mentioned her, telling Crystal about how she was head cheerleader, a typical popular girl. And yet, when Crystal came face to face with her, she wasn’t at all what she had been expecting. Sure, she was stunning (Crystal had to tell herself not to stare too much, actually) but her features were kind, despite their sharpness. Gigi introduced herself, and something seemed to click between them. They became friends quickly, exchanging numbers in that very first interaction.

In that first week, Crystal just tried to focus on remembering the names to all her friends, and getting to know them all a bit better. She sat with Jan, Jackie and Brita at lunch. They were a loud bunch, but Crystal got used to their company relatively quickly. She didn’t see much of Gigi, but she did catch up at the end of the day near the end of the week and ended up walking home together, learning that Crystal had moved in less than five minutes away from Gigi’s house.

By Friday, Crystal felt like she fit in at the school. She had her little clique, and then she had Gigi, who often kept with her friends during the school day, but would always send Crystal a little text after school. They hadn’t talked too much, but Crystal could already feel herself catching feelings. She tried to fight it, she really tried, but to no avail. She didn’t even know if Gigi liked girls.

Saturday night rolls around, and Crystal sits at the desk in her room, working on some homework. She hasn't gotten much, but the last thing she wants to do is fall behind before her second week at school. She loses track of time, until it's 11pm and she hears a knock on her door. She almost doesn’t answer it; her parents are asleep and answering the door at night seems like a bad idea. But something tells her to do it.

When she cautiously opens the door, she’s surprised and relieved to see Gigi Goode standing there. She looks tired, and has mascara under her glassy eyes.

“Uh. Hi. I’m sorry for just, coming over unannounced so late but I didn’t know where else to go, I kind of got in an argument with my parents and I just couldn’t stay there so I walked out and I really can’t go back right now, for tonight anyways. And you live so close and I know I’ve only known you for a week but your house was closest and- I’m sorry I’m rambling,” she takes a deep breath before continuing, “anyways, could I like… stay over tonight? I can sleep wherever and I promise I won’t be any trouble”

Crystal feels sorry for her. She looks distressed, nervous, and little like she’s about to cry. Which is why she lets her in. Well, that and the fact that she would probably do anything she said. She holds her hand out for Gigi to take, which she does, and leads her upstairs to her bedroom. She opens the door and jumps onto her bed. That’s when she realises Gigi, still standing by the door, staring off at her wall.

That’s when Crystal realises her pride flag. ‘Well, so much for secrecy’ she thinks to herself. She had decided she wouldn’t come out straight away, her parents knew, so did her friends back in missouri, but she wanted to make sure everyone would be ok with it here before she told anyone. And yet, Gigi, head cheerleader, is staring right at the flag with a completely unreadable expression. Crystal just hopes to God that she’s not homophobic.

“Yeah. I’m gay; that’s not a problem right?” Gigi looks at Crystal and shakes her head slightly, a small smile on her face. But she stands still, rooted onto the ground. Crystal tries to break the tension “Don’t be nervous, you can come closer” she starts, Gigi doesn’t do anything, “I won’t bite or anything. Well, unless you want me to” She winks. It’s not flirting, not really. She just wants to address that yes, she’s gay, but no, she won’t try anything... But if Gigi’s down, she absolutely would be too. It’s at Crystal’s stupidly exaggerated wink that Gigi finally laughs and joins her on the bed.

When she’s finished laughing, Gigi wipes a tear from under her eye and beams at the girl opposite her. But then, she looks down at her lap, and a more serious expression takes over her features. “You know uh, that’s funny, cause, me too! But also, that’s why I’m here - my mom just found out and she had some… things to say. She didn’t kick me out, but I thought it would be best if I just give her some space for the night. She wasn’t very pleased.”

Crystal’s shocked. She wraps Gigi in a warm hug, tells her that she’s sorry and she’s welcome here any time. Gigi just smiles, a rogue tear escapes her eye, but she doesn’t let Crystal see. The girls stay like that for a bit, until Gigi pulls away, and starts giggling. Crystal joins her. They’re not quite sure what’s so funny, but they’re glad the moods changed.

By midnight, Gigi is under Crystal’s blankets, watching her new friend as she shuts her bedroom door and turns off the light, but the room doesn’t go dark. There’s a small light coming from the nightstand, and Crystal flushes. She’s never liked the dark, so she always used a nightlight. She just hasn’t had anyone stay over in a while, so she forgets that this isn’t quite the norm for girls her age. She feels the need to address it, even though she’s already embarrassed herself enough in front of Gigi. In front of her crush.

“I know its embarrassing I still sleep with a nightlight on.” Gigi chuckles and Crystal joins her in bed, and flinches as she hesitantly turns it off.

“No, it’s cute” Gigi pauses, “you’re cute”

#i actually like this plot i might write it as a full fic should i do it #crystal methyd #gigi goode #crygi #gigi x crystal

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opalescent-cheetah · 4 years ago

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I Don’t Know What To Do (About This Dream And You), 4/5 - Methydoll

Summary: Baseball players and mythical beings are a potent combination. After Crystal catches her eye on the baseball field, Nicky makes a decision that turns her entire world upside down. Meanwhile, Crystal is caught in a mysterious dreamscape, chasing a creature with eyes like liquid gold.

Inspired by these songs: “She’s So High” - Tal Bachman; “Digital Love” - Daft Punk; “Baby” - Francesca Blanchard

Chapter Summary: Crystal is an ordinary girl with messy hair and a baseball cap, and she’s not sure how to feel about that. Jan is the ultimate wingwoman.

A/N: Here is the penultimate chapter of my fic for @cobblestaubrey ! In which Aiden and Brita make a very random (but - at least in my mind - a very necessary) cameo.

Ao3 // Previous Chapter

Chapter 4 - Crystal

She’s back in that moonlit field, standing beneath the same tree, its leaves rustling softly in the breeze. Glancing up, she looks for the feathered shape she’d seen last time, but the branches whisper with nothing but emptiness.

Crystal takes the opportunity to gather her surroundings. Nothing has changed since her first visit, several nights ago. There is nothing to see save for an expanse of rolling hills, dotted with huddled thickets of trees. It’s nothing special, and she can’t help but wonder why she’s here again.

She turns, slowly, and that’s when she sees them: the bird person who healed her. They’re sitting on the crest of a nearby hill, feathers twitching in the wind, silently looking out into the distance.

So it was them, last time I was here, Crystal realises. She can’t help but think that they have something to do with this recurring dream. Ever since the night they healed her, they’ve been an ever-present force in her mind, and now she’s seeing them in her sleep, too?

Almost impulsively, she begins running towards them, desperate for answers. She knows they’ll probably fly away again, but her undying confusion moves her forward.

Crystal slows when she reaches the foot of the hill, taking the trek upwards one silent step at a time. It feels as though she’s closing in on a wild animal; something unpredictable, something delicate and defensive. She can still see the silhouetted shape at the top, the edges of their feathers shining silver in the watery moonlight. They’re ethereally beautiful, yet tragically untouchable.

When she finally reaches the crest of the hill, she finds herself only a few paces away from them. They haven’t moved - it is as though they are frozen, statuesque beneath the stars. Crystal takes a tentative step closer, but when her shadow falls over them, they stiffen, feathers spiking in alarm.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Crystal tries to assure them, but they have already leaped to their feet, every muscle in their body pulled taut. In the fleeting moment before they spread their wings, Crystal catches a glimpse of their face, their golden eyes ablaze with terror, and it stops her short.

They take off in a blur of feathers, their dark silhouette vanishing into the night, swallowed by the endless expanse of starlight. Crystal stands in their wake, dazed, her throat too tight to even call out for them.

All she can see is the fear in their fiery eyes, their hard stare burrowing deep into her soul. It haunts her; why are they so scared? Why would they heal her, and then run away from her as though she’s some kind of monster? She rubs at a hollow ache in her chest, biting back exasperated tears.

What’s more, they share a striking likeness with Nicky, from the gentle slope of their jaw to the perfect arch of their lips. The downy feathers around their eyes weren’t enough to mask the soft curve of their eyelids, or to hide the shining gold of their pupils, as bright and beautiful as Nicky’s eyes.

Nicky.

Crystal slumps to the ground, the grass prickling at her bare knees, but she hardly notices. The thought of Nicky makes her chest tighten, her throat closing with unspoken feelings.

She’s never met anyone like Nicky before. There’s something about her - something special, something different, and it’s not just the iridescent gold of her eyes. Crystal can’t even bring herself to hate the fluttering flames in her chest whenever Nicky smiles at her. No, what hurts the most is that she’s Nicky: she’s perfect, so put-together, and completely out of Crystal’s league. She doesn’t even know why Nicky gives her the time of day; to her, Crystal must be nothing more than an ordinary girl, with messy hair and a baseball cap. She isn’t like Nicky. She’s not special, or interesting, or funny, or cool, she’s just…

She’s just Crystal. And that never feels like enough.

You’ve got it, you’ve got it…

It’s a high ball, carving an elegant arc through the air, and it’s coming down, down, towards Crystal’s waiting mitt. She hops a few steps backwards, eyes never leaving the incoming missile.

This is it - if she catches this, the game is hers.

THWACK.

The ball lands heavily in her mitt, and she swings her hand downward, securing it in her grip.

“OUT!” the referee shouts. The bleachers - and Crystal’s teammates - erupt into cheers. It’s the third out of the last innings, and they’ve just won the game.

“Crys! That was so good!” Jan shrieks, running up and tackling her in a hug. Jaida follows close behind her, lips quirked in a smile.

“She must’ve been visited by the magical bird person again,” she jokes good-humouredly. “Hey, Crystal, you should ask them to visit the rest of the team, too.”

Crystal falters, her mind drifting back to her last dream.

“I mean, I would,” she finally says, “but I don’t think they want to talk to me right now.”

Jan giggles. “Alright, alright, keep them all to yourself then,” she says, swatting Crystal lightly.

“You’d better get yourself some extra luck for our next game, though,” Jaida adds, clearly stifling a laugh.

“No, like, I actually think they’re mad at me right now,” Crystal insists, unable to erase their terrified eyes from her mind. “I keep seeing them in my dreams, but they always run away. They seem… they seem really scared of something.” She trails off, biting her lip.

“I--” Jaida hesitates. “You’re not serious?”

Even Jan has taken a step back and is looking at Crystal quizzically. Crystal tries not to shrink under her gaze - if Jan thinks she’s going insane, then she might just have a problem. She decides not to mention that the bird person wears Nicky’s face beneath her feather-lined eyes.

Forcing a laugh, Crystal waves them off.

“I’m just kidding, you guys! You should see the looks on your faces. I got you good.” She shoots finger-guns at Jaida and Jan, trying not to sigh in relief when they both visibly relax.

“Whew, for a second there, I thought we were going to have to get your head checked,” Jan jokes, elbowing Crystal playfully.

“Excuse me! I am perfectly sane,” Crystal sniffs, but she isn’t even sure whether she believes that anymore.

“Yes, and pigs fly,” Jaida comments wryly. Beside her, Jan dissolves into giggles, while Crystal sticks her lower lip out in an exaggerated pout. As they begin walking back to the locker rooms together, Jaida adds, “by the way, I’ll see y’all tonight at the team sleepover, right?”

“Yes ma’am,” Jan says, and Crystal nods in affirmation, hoping that this will give her a much-needed break from her worries.

“Truth or dare.”

“Truth.”

Crystal watches nervously as Jan’s expression turns sly.

“Crystal Methyd, have you been… seeing anyone lately?”

“Apart from your mystical bird person,” Jaida adds, lips quirked in a wry smile, and the team giggles.

“I - uh--” Crystal stammers, caught off-guard. Her mind drifts, first, to the bird person of her dreams, but it’s quickly replaced by an image of Nicky’s perfect smile and her iridescent eyes, glowing softly in the cozy cafe. Did that count as a date? She feels her face flush at the thought.

“Someone’s blushing,” Jan teases her gleefully. “Come on, Crys! Tell us who it is!”

“No-one,” she mumbles. “I’m not seeing anyone.”

It was probably a one-off thing, anyways. Just something casual. Nothing worth overthinking.

Besides, if she let slip that she’s falling for one of Jan’s best friends, she’d never hear the end of it - Jan would want to play every role from wingwoman to bridesmaid.

“C’mon, sis, we can all tell you’re lying,” Brita laughs, elbowing her playfully. “You look like a tomato.”

“You’re one to talk,” Jaida cuts in, her dark eyes gleaming with mischief. “You and Aiden ain’t ever set anything straight.”

“Because they’re not!” Jan adds, shrieking with laughter. Crystal giggles, finally relaxing slightly. Across the circle, Aiden’s pale face turns crimson, and Crystal is hit with an idea. Stifling an impish smile, she turns to Brita.

“Okay, Brita, truth or dare?”

She almost feels bad when she sees the way Brita’s eyes widen with knowing, but the feeling is outweighed by her own relief - at least the attention is off her shoulders, for now.

“Dare,” Brita finally decides, her voice hesitant, careful.

“I dare you to kiss Aiden,” Crystal says, and the entire circle breaks into whoops and cheers.

“Fuck,” Aiden mutters, covering her scarlet face with both of her hands. “Brita, you could’ve just chosen truth--”

“Oh yeah? And be bombarded with questions neither of us wants to answer?” Brita rolls her eyes exasperatedly. “Come on, you can’t tell me that’s any better. At least we can get this--”

“--Over and done with,” Aiden says at the same time. She sighs, finally relenting. “Fine. Get over here, then.”

Crystal watches, deeply amused, as Brita stalks across the circle and crouches down in front of Aiden. There’s a strange fire in both of their eyes - Crystal knows as well as anyone that their argumentative nature masks something deeper, but Brita and Aiden themselves are the only ones who refuse to acknowledge it aloud.

Oh well. If anything, it makes them more fun to tease - so much so that it’s almost become a team tradition. Crystal rakes her gaze across the circle, taking in every gleeful grin and sly smirk, as Brita leans in to give Aiden a quick peck. The room erupts in shrieking laughter and cheers, and Crystal can’t help but join in, her own issues momentarily forgotten.

They don’t resurface until after the game, when Jan joins her in the bathroom as she’s brushing her teeth.

“Hey,” she says, meeting Crystal’s eyes in the mirror. She’s pursing her lips, like there are more words still lingering on her tongue, but she doesn’t quite know how to say them.

“Hey,” Crystal mumbles back around her toothbrush.

“I know we’re not playing Truth or Dare anymore, but I have a question.”

Though already suspicious, Crystal hums her acknowledgement, nodding for her to continue. Jan drums her fingertips on the countertop, hovering in a brief silence, before she finally speaks.

“Is it Nicky?”

Crystal almost spits toothpaste into Jan’s face. Reeling, she splutters into the sink instead, hoping Jan can’t see the blush that’s permeated her cheeks. How could Jan possibly know? Am I really that obvious?

She straightens again, her mouth still foamy at the edges, every indignant word she wants to say lodged in the back of her throat. The silence weighs heavily on her skin as Jan watches her, her eyes round with curiosity.

Finally, Jan breaks the silence with a giggle.

“It doesn’t take a genius to see that you two have something going on, you know,” she comments, arching an amused brow.

“Really.” Crystal washes the residual toothpaste from her mouth, refusing to meet Jan’s eyes. “I’ve barely known her for three weeks, so I’d love to see where you’re getting your evidence from.”

“Are you kidding?” Jan gawks at her in disbelief. “She’s been going to every one of our games since she met you. She hated baseball to begin with - you should’ve seen how much convincing it took just to go that first week, and Jackie said she loathed it. Until she saw you, at least.”

“She could’ve been admiring anyone on our team,” Crystal mutters, refusing to let herself be convinced. “Yeah, yeah, I bet she was looking at Jaida. I mean, who wouldn’t?” Jaida is not only beautiful, but she’s a sensational player. It would make so much more sense for Nicky to be admiring her, Crystal thinks.

“Well, Jaida’s not the one she went on a date with,” Jan counters.

“It wasn’t a date.” What if it was? “Also, how do you know about that?”

Jan snickers. “In case you forgot, Nicky is, like, one of my best friends,” she explains. “She was fretting to me and Jackie over the phone the entire morning before your date.”

“And she called it a date?”

“Well, yeah. She said it was a coffee date. I think she really likes you, girl.”

Crystal’s heart skips a beat.

She’s still just an ordinary girl with messy hair and a baseball cap, but maybe that’s all she needs to be.

Next Chapter

#rpdr fanfiction #nicky doll #crystal methyd #methydoll #crystal x nicky #songfic #mythical au #baseball au #light angst #pining #opal writes

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naughtygeek49 · 5 years ago

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Is it just me or does it feel like they've switched Gigi's edit mid season??

Like the clear frontrunner before everything happened was 🍒🥧 but now it almost feels like they are making Sherry's biggest competition into an villian.

It wasnt like that until they started re editing the episodes in more depth.

Like really? You're really going to take one of the most popular queens from this season and switch their edits (cause you might not believe in the edits but I do) mid season?

You're not actually going to do anything considering she's already built up her fanbase. So what was the point?

(This sounds really aggressive and its not i swear but either Gigi has suddenly become really shady (not even shady just slightly mean) or they changed the edit and to me knowing what other queens have said about edits and the stories they have shared, the second one seems more likely.)

Idk maybe y'all dont think anything has changed and tbh I'm probably hallucinating but i feel like she's getting the villian edit now that Aiden and Brita are both gone.

It kind of gives me Violet and Pearl vibes from season 7. Like Pearl was set up as the winner that season and Violet was the shady one but then Pearl and Ru had a disagreement and suddenly Violet had the winners edit.

But this is like the opposite of that where Gigi and Sherry had the winners edit and suddenly no one has it. Like no one. Sherry doesnt have it anymore and neither does Gigi. Crystal, Jan and Heidi definitely dont and Jaida doesnt have enough screen time to have the winners edit which leaves Widow but she isn't getting it either.

#gigi goode #brita #aiden zhane #rupauls drag race #dragroyalty #dragrace #dragqueen #drag #rpdrseason12 #rpdr12 #rpdr spoilers #rpdr #rupaul

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sunflowerstache · 4 years ago

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Sarah...I finally got the job I was hoping to get. I'll be moving in a week, it's in another state. I'm excited but also nervous. This is the first time I'll be on my own and it's kinda scary. I've never been away from my family before....I just hope everything goes well.

BABY!! MY LOVE!! SUGAR!! I’M SO PROUD OF YOU!!!! Congratulations, that’s absolutely amazing! I can’t wait to hear all about your new job and the move!

Moving on your own is extremely nerve wracking, and there’s absolutely no shame in being a little scared or nervous! It’s normal! I moved into my own place for the first time 4 years ago and prior to that, I had never really been away from my family for long periods of time! I’m very veryyyy close with my entire family and I was very lucky that while growing up, I spent every Saturday night with all my aunts/uncles, cousins, parents, and grandparents, so moving to a new state and living alone, where I didn’t have that in person family bond was really hard for me. But that doesn’t mean your bond isn’t there anymore, you just get used to a new way! Make good use of FaceTime or any of video chat service you use! I had a set day once a week where I videoed my parents and we chatted about what happened that week and how work was and what was going on at home and it was really great to see their faces! And to have that day to look forward to every week made missing them a bit easier! But I also will say to set boundaries! I don’t let my parents facetime me when their at family parties or celebrations because I know I’ll get sad I’m not there. I told my mom that I’m not going to be texti nv her every second of every day so she’s gotta stop worrying when I don’t answer. Just little things that you feel like you need in order to keep your relationship healthy while living away!

Some other quick little things I learned while living alone:

make good use of autopay!!! this was super helpful for me because I have a pea brain and sometimes would forget when bills are due! This way, it automatically takes the money from your account and you don’t get late fees!

if you don’t want to use autopay, get a dry erase calendar and keep it somewhere you pass regularly (i.e. the kitchen or next to your door or in your bedroom etc.) to mark down what days your bills are due and use a red marker so you can clearly see it! I always marked down that my bills were due a few days before they actually were just to give me a cushion in case anything happened

always have extra toilet paper on hand. I know it might sound strange, but just spend a bit more and buy that pack with 20 rolls. Sometimes shit happens (lol) and you’ll be happy you have the extra

DONT OVER BUY PRODUCE!!!! Only buy a small amount for what you know you’ll need/use. while you do your shopping, you might think you’re gonna be super healthy and eat all this fresh produce so you spend the extra money to get the good stuff. Produce goes bad so SO fast and I’m gonna be honest, if you aren’t someone who cooks a meal every single night, youll probably forget its there and it’ll go bad.

try not to shop when you’re super hungry. You’ll get home and be happy with what you bought, but then a few days later you’ll realize you only have tortilla chips and cherries and kick yourself

you really don’t need most of the things you think you do. Try going through your belongings and see what really makes you happy and what you truly need. Sure you’re living on your own, but that could mean less space then your used to!

making your own decor is a lot cheaper and easier then you think! Especially now, there’s tons of tutorials on things online or try freehanding something or buy second hand! Everyone wants their place to look nice and feel homey, but don’t break the bank trying to do so!

I’m someone who doesn’t like turning the heat on very high during the winter because I don’t like spending the money hahaha I’ll usually just put it on low and sweat lots of layers! so if you’re the same, walmart and target have amazingly warm blankets you can keep on the couch or your bed or anywhere! Target has fuzzy socks for like $1! but also, if you are the same, make sure you don’t ever completely shut your heat off in the winter! It’ll freeze your pipes and they’ll burst causing a leak! So keep it low is anything!

get a brita filter. it pops right on your sink and cleans your water! It’s much more cost effective and better for the environment then buying those plastic water bottles

HAVE FUN!!! this is such an exciting time for you and you’re creating a life for yourself in this new city! Make friends, invite them over, go see what the city has to offer, try new restaurants or bars or clubs or museums or anything you find interesting! Don’t stay couped up in your place because you’ll only feel isolated and alone! This new chapter is literally all about you, so do things that make you happy and make it look any way you’d like it to look! There’s no right or wrong way to do things, everything’s just a trial run until you find what suits you best!💛

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kjack89 · 5 years ago

Text

Ours

Just a little E/R modern AU established relationship fluff, with a side of light angst because it’s me and, y’know, I can’t not.

Enjolras rolled over in bed, reaching out automatically for Grantaire, only to find the man missing. He huffed a sigh and lifted his head enough to squint at the clock, the neon green numbers ‘6:52’ piercing in the dim early morning light.

Sure, his alarm was set to go off in eight minutes anyway, but as he slowly sat up, Enjolras couldn’t help but feel more than a little peeved that his planned eight minute cuddle session was apparently over before it even began.

He curbed his irritation and got up in search of his wayward boyfriend, finding him in the guest room that doubled as an office for Enjolras and a studio for Grantaire, sorting through the various items that Enjolras had shoved in the closet there with misguided if well-intended plans to go through them later. “Oh, hey,” Grantaire said, glancing up as Enjolras poked his head in. “Did I wake you?”

“No,” Enjolras said, leaning against the door jamb. “What are you doing?”

“Couldn’t sleep last night,” Grantaire told him, tossing the board game Risk into one of the many boxes strewn throughout the room. “So I decided to finally watch Marie Kondo, if only to get Courfeyrac to shut up about it—”

Enjolras snorted. “Good luck with that,” he muttered.

“—And what can I say, I got inspired.” He gestured at the boxes. “Those are the keep, those are the donate, those are the toss.”

“Uh-huh.” Enjolras said slowly, picking his way through the room. “Isn’t the whole point of her method that you should keep the things that bring you joy?”

Grantaire looked contemplatively at the waffle iron he had just picked up. “That is right,” he murmured, before decisively setting it into one of the ‘donate’ boxes. “And it’s exactly what I’m doing.”

Enjolras bent and picked a small plastic trophy out of one of the ‘toss’ boxes. “And, uh, should be I offended that my fifth grade soccer trophy doesn’t bring you joy?”

“No, but I’ll give you twenty bucks if you can honestly tell me that it brings you joy,” Grantaire said, grinning. Enjolras didn’t smile and Grantaire’s smile faded, just slightly. “Why do I have a feeling that this is about more than a soccer trophy?”

Enjolras sighed. “I need coffee,” he muttered, turning and heading to the kitchen. He wasn’t entirely surprised that Grantaire trailed after him, though he ignored him as he went about brewing a fresh pot.

“You’re mad.”

Enjolras sighed again. “I’m not mad,” he said. “And I need coffee before we have this conversation.”

Grantaire pulled one of the chairs out from the kitchen table and spun it so he could sit backward on it, resting his elbows on the top rung of the chair back. “While you get suitably caffeinated, can I just point out that it’s not just your stuff that I’ve been going through?”

“No,” Enjolras said dryly, “as long as I’m allowed to point out that the vast majority of your stuff is still at your apartment, since we don’t actually live together.”

All traces of Grantaire’s smile disappeared. “Seriously?” he said. “You really want to do this right now?”

Enjolras grabbed two mugs from the cabinet. “No, frankly I don’t want to do this at all, but then again, I’m not the one who’s been going through my belongings at ass o’clock in the morning as if he’s, I don’t know, entitled to them.”

“I am entitled to them,” Grantaire said with a scowl, taking one of the mugs when Enjolras held it out to him. “Because while my name may not be on the lease, all of my belongings are here. My apartment is empty, save for some duplicate books and random crap I definitely need to get rid of, and I’ve spent easily the last month sleeping over here. We are living together, whether you like it or not.”

Enjolras scowled as well, taking a much-needed sip of coffee. “We’ll circle back to that,” he said stiffly. “For right now, I’d like to focus on the part where you think that you’re entitled to my belongings.”

Grantaire stared at him. “Enj, you don’t believe in material possessions.”

“Well, I believe they exist—”

“But you don’t believe that the rich should hold onto them,” Grantaire said firmly, clearly refusing to fall for Enjolras’s attempt at a diversion. “And as you’ve frequently identified yourself as a recovering member of the 1%, you are clearly comfortable applying your own logic to yourself and by extension, your possessions.” He cocked his head. “Or are you just really that attached to your fifth grade soccer trophy?”

“You know damn well this is not about the trophy,” Enjolras snapped, the caffeine not having its desired effect.

Grantaire met his glare evenly. “Then maybe you can tell me what this is actually about.”

“It’s about the fact that it’s mine!” Enjolras half-shouted.

“The stuff I’ve been going through it both of ours—”

“No, it’s my stuff, and it’s your stuff, and since your stuff is shit, I don’t particularly care what you do with it, but I do care what you do with mine!”

Grantaire recoiled, his expression tightening. “Oh,” he said, setting his untouched cup of coffee on the table. “Ok.”

He stood, pausing onto to grab his hoodie from where it was hanging on the coat rack that they had bought at IKEA, and Enjolras sighed. “Where are you going?” he asked tiredly, all of the fight seeming to leave him in an instant.

“Home,” Grantaire said. “Since you’ve made it very clear that this is not it.”

“Grantaire—”

But it was too late. Grantaire swept out, all but slamming the door after him, and Enjolras sighed once more, draining his coffee and trying to pretend the bitter taste in his mouth was only from the lack of sugar in his coffee.

---

To be clear, it wasn’t about the stuff.

Enjolras admitted that to Combeferre, who listened somewhat sympathetically as Enjolras spilled the entire story via FaceTime. “So then what was it really about?” Combeferre asked, taking a sip of his own cup of coffee, his phone likely propped against some book or another on his desk.

“I don’t know,” Enjolras said shortly, irritated less by the question and more by his own inability to answer.

“Do you not want to live with Grantaire?” Combeferre asked.

Enjolras shook his head. “No, he’s right on that account,” he said. “We are basically living together. That ship has sailed.”

Combeferre nodded slowly. “Do you not want to be in a relationship with Grantaire anymore?”

“What?” Enjolras croaked, his eyes widening. “God, no, of course I want to be with Grantaire. I love him.”

“Then why—”

“I don’t know!” Enjolras snapped, before sighing and running a frustrated hand through his hair. “I know it’s stupid, I know it’s just stuff, but when I saw him going through it—” He broke off, shaking his head. “I don’t know why it pissed me off so much.”

Combeferre didn’t look surprised by that, and he took another sip of coffee before saying calmly, “Well there’s one thing we haven’t considered.”

Enjolras blinked. “What’s that?”

“Maybe there isn’t a deeper reason for your outburst,” Combeferre said. “Maybe it’s just that you’re tired and crabby and you overreacted.”

Enjolras stared at him. “You really think that’s it?”

Combeferre half-smiled. “I know you like to think that you’re immune to normal human emotions, but you’re not.” He arched an eyebrow at him. “And this isn’t the first time you’ve pulled a stunt like this.”

“I just—” Enjolras struggled to find words, but deep down, he suspected Combeferre was right. He was tired, and he had picked a fight because that’s what he and Grantaire did when they were crabby, but he had gone too far because that’s what he did when he was crabby. “So just like that, huh?”

Combeferre’s smile widened. “Well, the alternative is that you really are that attached to your fifth grade soccer trophy.”

His words were eerily similar to Grantaire’s, and for the first time, Enjolras realized just how stupid he’d been. “Hilarious,” he said dryly, though he was thankfully saved from saying anything more by the sound of a key in the lock of the front door. “I gotta go.”

“Good lu—”

Enjolras hung up before Combeferre could finish the sentence. “Hey,” he said cautiously as Grantaire let himself into their apartment.

And wasn’t that a revelation?

Their apartment. Now that Enjolras was willing to pull his head out of his ass long enough to admit it.

“I went back to my apartment,” Grantaire started, but Enjolras cut him off.

“I’m sorry.”

Grantaire didn’t look surprised. “I know,” he said, hanging his hoodie back up on the coat rack. “Figured you just needed some time to cool off.”

Enjolras nodded slowly. “So you’re not mad?”

“Well, I was pissed,” Grantaire admitted, heading to the fridge and grabbing the Brita pitcher to pour himself a glass of water. “But I figured this whole little meltdown was probably about something else, so I decided to come up with a solution.”

“A solution,” Enjolras repeated, a little blankly. “Ok, but—”

Grantaire held up a finger and took a swig of water. “First and foremost, I contacted my landlord and gave him my thirty days notice. I don’t want a separate apartment — I live here.”

“Yeah,” Enjolras said, surprised by the emotion that welled in his chest, and he reached out automatically to pull Grantaire to him, surprisingly touched when Grantaired ducked his head automatically to rest his head against Enjolras’s chest. “You do. This is home — our home.”

Grantaire nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he said, his voice slightly muffled. “And that’s the other thing. Ours. That’s what we need: new stuff that’s not yours or mine, but ours.”

Enjolras laughed lightly, rubbing his hand lightly against Grantaire’s back. “Ok, us and what money? My trust fund’s still in escrow, remember?”

“I didn’t say that we’d be the ones buying it,” Grantaire told him.

“Then how—” Enjolras started, breaking off when Grantaire pulled away just long enough to reach into his pocket and pull out a black velvet ring box.

“I don’t know,” Grantaire said, breaking into a smile, “you think a wedding registry ought to do it?”

Enjolras didn’t even hesitate, pulling Grantaire back to him and kissing him fiercely, cradling Grantaire’s face with both of his hands. “How long have you been planning this?” he asked finally, when he finally had to reemerge for breath.

Grantaire shrugged, looking up at Enjolras with a small, soft smile lifting the corners of his mouth. “I bought the ring six months ago,” he said. “I was just waiting for the right time.”

“And this was the right time?”

Grantaire shrugged once more. “Yeah,” he said. “Because you finally figured out that I’m not going anywhere.” Enjolras swallowed, hard, and Grantaire drew him in to kiss him once more. “At least, I won’t be, once you answer the question.”

“You have to actually ask it, first,” Enjolras pointed out.

Grantaire rolled his eyes, but he was grinning. “Fine. Enjolras, will you—”

“Yes,” Enjolras said instantly. “Absolutely yes.”

Grantaire’s laugh was cut off by Enjolras kissing him again, both men breathless as Grantaire slid the simple golden band onto Enjolras’s finger. “I want you here,” Enjolras said, and Grantaire glanced up at him. “Forever. This is your home, and I’m so sorry—”

“I know,” Grantaire told him. “I love you.”

Enjolras grinned. “I love you, too.” He glanced down at the band glinting on his finger. “So this new stuff — does that mean we have to actually agree on what we’re registering for, or—”

Grantaire snorted a laugh and shook his head. “We can register for whatever the fuck we want,” he said bluntly. “Under one condition: that whatever it is, it’s ours.”

Enjolras’s grin widened. “Deal,” he said easily. “Ours.”

Grantaire lifted Enjolras’s hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to the ring he had placed on Enjolras’s finger. “Ours,” he repeated. “Forever.”

#Enjolras x Grantaire #ExR #Enjoltaire #Enjolras #Grantaire #fanfiction #les miserables #modern AU #established relationship #fluff #angst #more misunderstandings than angst really #nothing they can't get past

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the-silly-hippy · 5 years ago

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Can you afford being healthy?

So let’s say my goal is to have optimal health, both physical and mental, what should I do? Off the top of my head I’m thinking gym, organic food, green smoothies, psychotherapy, social life, maybe supplements. All of which sound very expensive compared to staying at home watching TV and eating corndogs. So for a long time, I thought I couldn’t afford taking care of my health. But then I had to, so I got creative.

Health is an investment

The first thing to keep in mind is that taking care of your health now will save you money (and trouble) in the future. Being sick is expensive: medication, hospital bills, missing work, etc. I try to remember that every time time I want to go for McDonalds instead of.. anything else really.. to save a buck.

Time to hang out with friends

Taking care of your mental health also means having a social life and leisure. What do you need for that? Time. Why don’t you have enough time? Mostly because of work. Why do you have to work so much? Because life is so fucking expensive. So my logic is: if I need less things, and if I spend less on things I have to buy, that means more time for me. I’ll summarize this in two words: thrift stores and simplicity.

First, go for simplicity

Try to buy less stuff and when you want to buy, ask yourself if you really need it, that’s basic. To avoid feeling in a place of scarcity and lack, think of something you really do want, and make it your goal, your reward. So instead of thinking “I shouldn’t buy this, I don’t absolutely need it. That sucks, I can’t have anything nice

” You could shift that to: “If I don’t buy this dress that I probably wouldn’t wear much, it means I’m $45 closer my trip to Bali :D”. Consistently doing this keep you exited about your goal because, how often do we want to buy things we don’t really need? That’s right, you’ll have your reward in mind very often.

Simplicity in your products

I think that a good first step to take towards health is eliminate toxicity. To do that, what often makes sense is to simplify: go for foods that have the less ingredients, or that are totally unprocessed. Same goes for cosmetics. Look for products that only contain a few ingredients that you can recognize, or if you’re so inclined, you can even make them yourself, thus, saving more money. So, weather it goes on your body or in your body, a healthy and cost effective solution is to buy ingredients in bulk and start cooking.

Save on food and reduce food waste with apps

Get this: you install an app on your phone (Flashfood is one but I’m sure there are a couple others), and it shows you products that are close to expiration date that groceries near you are selling at a discounted price. I can’t stand seeing food go to waste, and my cheap ass just loves save 50%, so this concept really is pure gold for me. These apps allow me to have access to meat that I couldn’t normally afford, which allows me to pursue my quest for the best diet for my body (I used to be a vegan, I’m now on an API diet, what’s next?!). You can find vegetables, bakery, seafood, anything. I’d say I buy 80% of my groceries through these apps now. Buying in bulk and cooking? Well that is possible with the apps. Having a truck load of bell peppers will sure spark your creativity, as you have to use them before they go bad.

Freeze food

That brings us to the freezer. If you can get a second-hand freezer (I suppose some models consume less electricity, you might want to look for these), that might be the best investment you make this year. Because if you’re half as obsessed as I am about health and simplicity, there’s just not enough room in your standard freezer for all that healthy food you’ll buy at a 50% discount. See where this is going? Buy basic ingredients in bulk, cook huge batches, freeze portions. You saved time and money and you get to eat as healthy as you want to.

DIY your skin and hair products

You’re lucky there is a big trend on DIY products right now, so recipes are easy to find for pretty much everything you want to make. There are some ingredients that have multiple uses, like castille soap or baking soda for instance, so these are a good choice for a starter kit. I tried making solid shampoo and I must say it’s very satisfying to successfully wash your hair with a shampoo you made with your own two hands! And to know you’re not sending chemicals in the water, and in your scalp. And not buying another plastic bottle. And throwing it away when empty. The shampoo bar cost approximately $7 and will last for.. I dunno like ten million showers. I also make my own face serum with two ingredients: jojoba oil and tea tree. Speaking of oil (sweet almond in this case), it’s the best and cheapest makeup remover, period. I used to buy very expensive natural face care products but I was frustrated that there was no visible improvement of my skin. I wanted to test them on half my face for a couple months to demonstrate how ineffective they actually were but I never had the required discipline. If you don’t see noticeable improvement in your face after using a product for a while, stop buying that shit and just rub your face with oil. Because the one you’re buying probably contains mostly oil anyway and the rest of the fancy ingredients are probably in traces amount and completely useless. And don’t even get me started on the non-natural products. Ew.

Get rid of plastic

They say (the same “they” I always talk about when I don’t have sources) that if you store food in plastic containers of drink out of plastic bottles, plastic gets in your body and can cause health problems, hormone imbalance and whatnot. A good alternative are glass containers. The tupperware style with lids can be pricey if you buy them new, so the strategy here is: no stress, buy just a couple at a time when you find them at the salvation army and gradually eliminate the plastic ones. When I say eliminate I mean re-purpose or give to good will. As good hippies, let’s try to produce less waste! There’s also the very trendy mason jar, so practical to store food and – Pinterest shows us every day – anything you can think of.

Drink the best possible water

I’ve heard that tap water contains traces of birth control pills, antidepressants, antibiotics, etc. I don’t have the expertise to know if it’s true but it did scare me. I’m the kind of hippie that will avoid taking a small innocent ibuprofen if I can. I don’t want drugs in my body, unless it’s going to be fun and psychedelic. I certainly have a lack of scientific evidence about traces of drugs in the city’s water supply but my nose and taste buds tell me that chlorine isn’t something I should drink. There’s also fluoride in the water, that is arguably bad for you. These are the reasons I decided to stop drinking tap water. What are the alternatives? I had a Brita but it doesn’t eliminate much of the bad stuff. Plus, it’s made of plastic. The high quality water filters are just ridiculously expensive so my only option was to buy bottled water. Not small bottles, the big ones that are reused when you bring them back to the store. It felt weird to buy water when there’s plenty in the tap but, my god, does it taste better. And I’ve read it hydrates you better too. Hydration is a key component of health, that’s for sure, so if you can’t afford to buy water, still, drink a liter a day, you’ll be healthier than if you let yourself dry like a raisin. I hesitated to make that water bottle move for a bit because I thought I needed to buy a water dispenser, but it turns out I don’t need it at all. I just leave the bottle on the counter and I got used really quickly to flip that giant heavy thing. Now I can pour myself a shot glass of water without spilling a drop. No need to buy a machine. Also, it’s best to drink it at room temperature, and it’s empty within a week of two so I figure it doesn’t have time to grow bacteria, or algae or whatever happens to water when you let it sit.

Sleeping is free

We underestimate the role that sleep has to play in our health so we often neglect it, but a good sleep hygiene can make a huge difference in your energy level, I’ve experienced it. I was always tired, couldn’t get through the day without a nap, couldn’t concentrate, I was unable to get up in the morning. Then a doctor prescribed that I take melatonin every night at 6 pm for two weeks, go to bed at 10, wake up at 7 and blast a light therapy lamp in my face for half an hour every morning. I did that and guess what? It. Worked. I didn’t follow the exact hours he prescribed and I’m not sure the melatonin had a good effect on me so I only took it for a couple days. So I think what does the trick is consistently waking up at the same time each morning, regardless of what time you go to bed. Occasionally I get only four hours of sleep and usually the next day I’d be unable to function. Now that I wake up at regular hours, I can go through the day and have so much energy that I even forget I got only 4 hours of sleep. A phrase he said about staying in bed later to catch up on you sleep stuck with me: it’s too hard for the system. It had not occurred to me that it could be difficult for the body to change its sleep schedule. I thought “as long as I get 8 hours I’m fine” or even “the more sleep the better, I’ll sleep 12 hours today”. So if you happen to have sleep problems, irregular sleep pattern or fatigue, set an alarm and get some light in the morning, see what happens. Hopefully your body will adjust to the schedule and you won’t need the alarm after a week, and your mornings will be less painful. Another thing I didn’t take seriously was avoiding blue light in the evening. But it turns out it’s serious, it really does mess with your natural sleep hormones. So I installed f.lux on all my screens. It’s an app that will cut the blue light out of your screen according to the time of day. My screen is yellow right now because I’m too silly to go to bed at a normal time, I prefer to write a blog post. I used to binge watch TV on my computer very late in the night and not feel tired. I realized after installing the app that it was the blue light that was keeping me up. Now I watch an episode and start to yawn, so that’s a good thing, less TV.

Meditation is free

According to every damn article I read or podcast I listen to, meditation is one of the healthiest thing you can do. Good news: all you have to do is sit there and breathe. Now that, you can afford. No time? A minute a day is still better than nothing. If you need a little help to begin, there are tons of free apps you can install. I use Breathe and Calm, which also has some nice sleep stories.

Functional training

Exercising at home requires more discipline, at least in my experience, but if you can pull it off, it means more money in your pocket. You don’t necessarily need those machines to have an effective workout. The weight of your body will do. Remember those good old push ups? Yep. YouTube will help you find some exercises ideas for what part of your body you want to work out. Weights can be found easily at thrift stores. Elastic bands offer multiple possibilities and are not too expensive. Cardio is important too so if running outside isn’t an option, because breathing smog will annihilate any benefits of working out, for instance, maybe look for a stationary bike in the ads.

You can still party

Even if you’ve decided that for health reasons, alcohol, sugar and carbs are to avoid, you can still allow yourself to have them every once in a while. Just don’t binge, and limit the damage. For example, I drink on rare but meaningful occasions and I choose low sugar and gluten free drinks like vodka-soda or gin-soda. That’s the protecting my health part, now for the protecting my wallet. Go to the liquor store and find the best value alcohol. Not the will-make-you-go-blind kind of alcohol, because that’s not healthy. Usually a big-ass bottle of average quality vodka will be a good price to quantity ratio, and will give you an occasion to let go of what the cashier thinks of you as a person. Vodka is pretty much tasteless so that leaves you more drinks possibilities. (plus, you can DIY perfume using vodka: avoiding chemicals on your skin and saving $200, yay)! Sugar in food now. It’s always best to choose natural sugars like honey, instead or refined sugar, or use stevia. Man, stevia is the best: it tastes like sugar, but it’s not. It’ll make your food taste sweet and do zero damage. Buy in a giant bottle to save money. Hell, you could even grow your own stevia plant! Let’s go crazy! You can also pour a drop in your vodka. Now that’s starting to look like a party to me! The use of the word honey and saving money just made me think of a fine browser extension you can use for online shopping. It’s called Honey and it can notify you when a product you watch goes on sale. It can also find and apply coupon codes for you. Here’s the only referral link in this article: my link to Honey. So, where were we. Sugar. When I stopped eating sugar, I bought dark unsweetened chocolat in bulk, thinking it would taste like dark 70% chocolate. Oh, was I wrong. It tastes bitter. That’s the only thing you’ll taste in sugar free dark chocolate. But it’s cheap to buy in bulk and I can control what goes into it, so from time to time I like to melt some in a pan, add stevia and eat that with bananas.

Let’s talk! What are your secrets to stay healthy and how do you afford it?

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hazeleyesirwin · 5 years ago

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i’ve seen you before: part one

summary: an entirely self-indulgent soulmate au where past lives are common and link you to your soulmate

(this is a little scary for me because this work is really personal to me.)

Word Count: 4k or so???

part one

Some people believe they have past lives; that our souls can’t just exist in our bodies and then go nowhere or to heaven or hell. They can’t just be floating around. I believe strongly in this concept. Our souls have to start over. Of course, some souls are new on earth and some don’t come back for whatever reason. But, generally, we all have at least one past life. I also believe our soulmate is always our soulmate because it’s the souls that are connected, not whatever physical body the soul inhabits. Friends also stay together through their lives. Sometimes adding or losing one or two through the centuries. Those friends the soul is connected to cause a sense of peace within the soul. The soulmate makes the soul feel complete and at peace. Some people have dreams with flashes of their past lives, some have intense deja vu, some have actual tangible memories from other lives. I have all of these from time to time. Dreams that leave me walking around during the day with this intense deja vu. Two or three vivid memories. Our souls are looking every day through our bodily eyes for its partner. Some would say the soul is looking for its other half. I believe we’re all whole by ourselves, but we’re better when our soul is at peace. A soulmate also doesn’t have to be a romantic partner in every life. A friend, sibling, mentor, or lover could have the soul your soul is looking for. For the purposes of this story I should tell you my soulmate is a romantic partner. This is the story of how my soul found peace with a soul it met in a coffee shop in LA.

My friends, the ones I’ve had for at least two lives now, and I moved to LA shortly after graduating college. We settled in fairly quickly. It felt like the right place at the right time. I’m the most spiritual, you could say, out of the four of us. I’m also the most connected to my past and the oldest soul amongst us. All of us wanted to work in the entertainment business. Chloe as a dancer, me an actor, Kass a talent manager, and Ken in any way she could. I got up earlier than everyone else as usual and went to get coffee down the street from our apartment. I decided to take the binder full of scripts with me to work on lines for upcoming understudy roles I had. I got my coffee in the biggest mug they had in the shop because after coming here every morning for three months, my favorite barista Christina knew I needed the extra caffeine. I thanked her and leaned over the counter to hug her and kiss her cheek, saying something about getting drinks later in the week. I took my mug and my giant binder to the rustic wood table by the picture window. I settled in and opened the binder.

I heard the bell at the front door jingle about an hour later and looked up; no one was ever in here this early when there was a starbucks a block away. When I looked up I saw a shock of short, clearly dyed red hair that was slicked back. The man that the hair belonged to was wearing a black t-shirt and black skinny jeans. He didn’t bother to take off his sunglasses when he came inside until he got up to the counter, pushing the glasses up onto his head which pushed back the one red curl that had fallen out of the otherwise perfectly slicked back style. Christina started to flirt with him after he ordered, so I looked back down at the lines I was supposed to be committing to memory. All I could see was the bird tattooed in jet black ink on the back of the guy’s neck. I looked back up to see him facing the other way. I shook my head and tried to focus. When I couldn’t I decided to give up on lines for the time being. I closed my binder and stood, picking up my mug. I walked over to the counter and set down the mug, then tossed a goodbye over my shoulder to Christina before walking out the door and turning down the street to begin the walk home.

I couldn’t get the image of that guy’s tattoo and red hair out of my head so much that I nearly walked out into traffic while blasting the most unromantic song I could in my headphones. I felt a hand grab my wrist and pull. I turned sharply and took a step forward, ending up with my face directly in a worn black t-shirt. I took a step back and mumbled an apology, not bothering to look up into the face of whoever had just saved me from my own absent-mindedness. Scientists and my high school acting teacher have said that smell is the sense most connected to memory. So, when I say he smelled so familiar, you don’t think I’m crazy. It was like walking into your own house after being gone a while; familiar and unfamiliar all at the same time. It was like home when you had been calling somewhere else home for a long time. That feeling made me look up into his face. My eyes met red hair, sunglasses, and dimples that were the only thing stopping his smile from taking up his entire face. He pushed his sunglasses onto his head like he had done minutes before in the coffee shop. His eyes met mine and I wanted to cry. Brown around the edges and green like trees in the spring around his pupils. My daze was broken when he spoke,”You okay?” I nodded and took out my headphones,”Yeah, I’m okay, thanks.” “You look a little dazed, how about we sit down over here for a minute?” He suggested.

He took my free hand and led me over to a bus stop where there was a bench. He sat and I sat beside him on the hard painted green metal. “I’m Ashton by the way. I don’t usually just go around saving girls from walking into traffic. I actually saw you leave the coffee place and you looked upset. I had to go this way anyway so I just… kept an eye on you I guess. I don’t know why I told you that. It’s a little creepy.” I laughed softly. He was charming. I was so screwed. “I’m Michaela. And I’m weirdly okay that you followed me. I usually don’t let strange men, who followed me at least two blocks, hold my hand.” He glanced down at our hands that were still intertwined. “Well, considering we just got to Kindergarten third base, can I maybe buy your coffee tomorrow morning?” Ashton asked. “That would be nice,” I replied.

When I got home it was noon already and Chloe was standing in our kitchen with her arms crossed,”Where the fuck have you been, bitch?” “I have a fucking date tomorrow!” I dropped my binder on the bar then heard Kass and Ken come out of their rooms. “You what?!” Ken cried from the doorway of her room. “I have a date tomorrow morning!” I screamed back. “Holy shit, I guess getting up at the crack of dawn finally paid off for you,” Kass commented, walking over to the fridge and pouring water from our Brita filter into a glass. We’re earth friendly in this household. “What’s his name?” Chloe asked. “Ashton,” I answered. Kass full on spit out the sip of water she had taken, “Ashton as in Irwin?” I nodded,”I wanted to flip my shit, but he’s so different than I thought he would be that I didn’t have a chance. He didn’t even mention the band so I’m not going to until he brings it up. I’m not gonna be that crazy bitch. I didn’t know it was him until he introduced himself.” “How the fuck did you not know?” Chloe stared at me in disbelief. I shrugged,”He’s different.”

I got consumed in my own thoughts for a moment, again seeing nothing except red hair and tattoos and Ashton’s hazel eyes that I could fall into. Ken’s voice broke me out of my thoughts,”Do you think he could be your soulmate? Did you recognize anything about him?” I started to tear up, which was not an uncommon occurrence for me. Still isn’t. “He smelled familiar. His hand felt familiar in mine. His eyes look how my mom’s hugs feel,” I had to sit down, actually lay down flat on our tile floor. “Do you think he’s the guy you haven’t been able to see in your memories and dreams?” Kass asked. I covered my face with my hands to hide the tears streaming down my face and nodded. “Oh my god, Mich. That’s amazing. Also, please introduce us to his friends for God’s sake I’ve been single for so long there are cobwebs in my vag,” Chloe joked. I laughed and sat up, wiping the tears off my face. My phone rang as Ken handed me a tissue. I picked it up and saw that Ashton had typed his name in all caps with three hearts after it when he put his number in my phone. I clicked the answer button and held the phone to my ear,”Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Ashton. I felt like I needed to call you. I don’t know why. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. Are you?”

“I’m alright. I don’t know why I felt like I needed to call.”

“I’m glad you did. It’s nice to hear your voice.”

“You just heard my voice twenty minutes ago.”

“I know, your voice is just nice.”

“Cheesy.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to get dinner tonight instead of coffee in the morning? I want to see you again. I can’t seem to get you out of my head.”

“Cheesy.”

“Shut up.”

“I would love to have dinner with you tonight, Ashton. Pick me up at 7?”

“Yeah. Hell yeah. I’ll be there. Wear a dress. We’re going big.”

“Okay. See you then. Bye.”

I took the phone down from my ear and clicked the end call button.

“Dinner tonight? Dude, you’re so gonna get laid,” Kass teased. I got up from where I was sitting on our stained tile floor,”Okay, he said we’re going big so I gotta find something to wear.” “Bet you wish you would have unpacked like I told you to a month ago,” Chloe raised her eyebrows at me. “Yeah, for once, you’re fucking right I wish I’d listened to you,” I replied, wandering down the hall to my room where there were still three boxes to unpack. Formal clothes being one of them. I picked up the box marked “fancy shit” and set it on my unmade nest of a bed. I scratched at an edge of a piece of packing tape until it started to lift then tore it off the top of the box. I pushed the cardboard flaps open and the first thing on top was my senior prom dress. I picked up the purple satin and looked at it for a moment before discarding it in a heap on the off-white carpet. Chloe leaned on the doorframe at the entrance of my bedroom,”That black wrap dress you have would be good.” “That’s what I’m thinking. Do you have shoes I could wear? I need heels, he’s literally a tree,” I watched her disappear in the direction of her room. She reappeared a moment later with simple black heels,”He’s only six foot.” “Okay, that’s seven fucking inches taller than me,” I scoffed. I took the shoes and shooed Chloe out of my room to shut the door. I sat on my bed and let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Nervous doesn’t begin to describe what I was feeling. There was a pit with butterflies coming out of it in my stomach. My heart was racing. I was honestly a little light-headed. Something in the back of my mind was screaming “This is it! The moment you’ve been waiting for since you were five and were told about the whole soulmate idea”. I pulled myself together the best I could and started to get ready for what could possibly be the first date with my soulmate. Now I sound like a bad contestant on the Bachelor. Sorry. Let’s move on, shall we?

I finished getting ready at 7:30 then had to sit around and panic for what felt like a year. It was actually fifteen minutes. He was early. I think my heart might have actually leaped when he rang the buzzer. I let him in and he knocked on the door. Kass and Chloe got to it before I could. It was a scene out of a movie. Slow-motion. I turned around just as I finished putting in my earring and brushed my hair behind my left ear. Ashton was standing there in a black suit with a red shirt under it. No tie. He was holding white roses. Chloe and Kass stepped aside and beckoned him in like Lurch from the Addam’s Family. He walked in and his eyes never left my face until he pulled me into a hug, whispering,”You look beautiful,” into my ear. It felt like all my broken pieces were being pulled back together in that hug. Ashton pulled away after a long moment and gave me the flowers. “Thank you, they’re beautiful,” I said softly,”I would put them in water, but we might want to leave before our spectators get popcorn and start watching us like an episode of the Kardashians.” Ashton turned his head in the direction I motioned and saw Ken, Kass, and Chloe watching us from the sofa. “I’m gonna take her now, don’t wait up,” He took my hand and led me out the front door.

We walked down the concrete staircase to the bottom floor then down the block to where Ashton had parked. He drove a black muscle car that gave off major douche vibes, but the way he opened the door for me put my mind at ease. He got in the car and looked over at me. “What?” I asked softly. “Nothing,” He replied, smiling gently. He put his seatbelt on and pulled out of the parking spot. We drove for about half an hour before Ashton pulled into a parking lot that was in front of an old theater. Ashton turned the car off and got out, coming around to open the door for me. I got out of the car and felt Ashton’s hand on my back, leading me toward the door of the theater.

When we got inside the theater, it was crisp red and gold. Classic. It felt like somewhere Ashton fit in. When I looked up at him all I wanted in the world was to kiss him. He was explaining that there was an experimental theatre piece he had wanted to see, but no one would go with him. There was an indescribable fire in his eyes. He laced his fingers with mine, leading me over to the usher collecting tickets at the door. He then led me down to our seats that we in the perfect place. Just far enough from the stage that we could see all of it at once, but close enough we could really hear the dialogue with the actors not using mics. There were a few older folks in the house, as well as two young women who looked like they were on a date as well. The show was far from sold out. The seats were covered in that itchy red school auditorium fabric. The drapes on the stage were the same color. The house lights dimmed, in the same moment I felt Ashton’s hand on my knee. I didn’t realize it had been shaking until he stopped it. “Breathe, love,” He whispered. He offered his hand for me to hold. I laced my fingers through his then put my other hand on top of his. His hands were so much bigger than mine, but it felt like a perfect fit to be connected like that. The stage lights came up and redirected my attention from Ashton’s hands to the stage.

The play was more emotional than either Ashton or I had anticipated. By the end, I was failing to choke back sobs and stop the tears from streaming down my face. Ashton turned toward me and wiped away my tears with the hand I didn’t have a death grip on,”Well, kind of a first date ruiner, huh?” He asked softly, which coaxed a laugh from me through my tears. He led me outside. He started to walk toward his car immediately, but I stopped, closing my eyes and turning to let the warm California breeze dry the tears on my face. When I opened my eyes, Ashton was watching me. “You okay?” He asked. I nodded. He reached out his hand for me to take and we walked to his car together. He opened the passenger door for me again and I got in.

Twenty-five minutes of driving, slightly too fast, we pulled up to a gate and Ashton rolled down his window to enter a code into a little box. The gate slowly opened. A few minutes later, Ashton opened my door and walked me up to his front door. He unlocked it and walked in, pulling me behind him. When he shut the door behind me, he finally spoke,”So, I was thinking we could make dinner together. And, maybe you could stay with me tonight?” “Bold move, Ash. Trying to get into my pants on the first date,” I smirked at him. “Okay, first of all, did you expect any less of me? Second, I just want to be near you. Sex or not,” Ashton explained. “Why?” I asked, before I thought about what was coming out of my mouth,”Wait, don’t answer that. Sorry.”

“After being around you for less than a day, I already want to spend every waking moment with you. Something in me is connected to something in you. You know it, I know it. Your friends knew it from the way they were staring at us. My friends know it because I was with them when I called you and they gave me shit about it for the rest of the day,” His eyes were greener than before as he looked at me. “We should make dinner before you make me cry again,” I changed the subject slightly. “Hey!” He protested,”Technically the show made you cry last time, not me.” “Sure, babe, let’s go with that story,” I replied. The world around us slowed to a crawl as Ashton kissed me for the first time. He tasted like mint gum and smelled like aftershave. I reached up to cup his jaw in my hands. His skin was prickly under my fingertips. He pressed his hands into my back to pull me closer.

My friends in purple, holding wildflowers. They look so different, yet they’re the same. A dream I knew well. I always saw my friends, my family. Never the man dressed in a uniform that looked vaguely familiar. I feel my face being tipped up. I look into hazel eyes. Ashton. I have an aching feeling this is one of the last times I’ll see his eyes in this life. I reach up to brush back the curl that always falls in my husband’s face. Husband. “You may kiss the bride.” Mint and aftershave. Prickly skin under my fingertips. Hands pressed into my back to get me as close as possible.

Ashton broke the kiss and looked at me. Hazel eyes filled with the same love I had seen a moment before. I brushed Ashton’s cheek with my thumb and smiled gently at him,”We better get cooking.” He agreed and led me into the kitchen. I kicked off my heels and realized once again how much shorter I was than him. Ashton walked back into another room and came back out with a hoodie. He handed it to me to occupy my hands so he could reach down and untie my dress. “Horny bastard,” I whispered. His hoodie was warm from the dryer as he pulled it onto my body. His hands lingered at the hem. I reached up and pushed back the red curl that fell in his face. I pressed my lips to his again.

When I walked back into my apartment early the next morning I shut the door as quietly as I could, but I got caught. Kass and Chloe both emerged from their rooms as soon as the lock clicked. Ken emerged a moment after them. “Bro, we had a system and you were late,” Kass said, looking at Ken with her arms crossed. “Sorry, fuck, that would’ve been such a good bit,” Ken apologized, pouting slightly. “Anyway,” Chloe interrupted their bickering,”How was fucking one of the members of one of the biggest bands in the world?” I pressed my lips in a flat line for a moment before replying,”We didn’t fuck.” “Oh whatever,” Kass protested,”You’re wearing his clothes.” I looked down and tugged the sleeves of Ashton’s jacket over my hands then looked back up at my best friends in the world who were waiting for answers. I thought about lying. I thought about keeping what had happened between Ashton and I a secret. I thought for just a moment about telling them maybe I was wrong about him. That maybe he wasn’t my soulmate. The image of those same women in purple, holding wildflowers and tearing up at a wedding for a doomed marriage flashed before my eyes. “We went to a play. Then, we went to his and we cooked together. He’s taking me to lunch when he gets done at the studio today. If one of you wants to come, I think he’s bringing Calum,” I explained. I was partially cut off by Chloe yelling “Dibs!” then celebrating her claim on Calum with what looked like a well-choreographed endzone dance.

“Wait, hold on, when do we get to meet the rest of the band?” Ken whined. “I haven’t even done that. We went on one goddamn date slow your roll. The only reason I’ve met Calum is because he and Ashton have breakfast together every Tuesday morning so he was there when I got up this morning,” This response made Kass throw herself on the couch and groan loudly. “Okay, okay, but Ash and I were talking about maybe getting everyone together and going bowling or mini-golfing or something really cliche like that,” I tried to comfort her slightly with my words. “Already?” Ken asked gently. “What do you mean?” I replied. “Like you said, you’ve been on one date. We know you. You definitely didn’t fuck him last night. You’re already thinking about introducing your friends? It’s fast,” She looked at me with concern in her eyes. “It doesn’t feel fast. It feels like we’ve been together forever. It feels like we’re supposed to be together forever. I saw his face in one of my flashes last night when he kissed me. He’s the one I married in every life before. I can’t stand the thought that I might not get to spend much time with him in this life like previous ones. I want as much time as I can get, even if it means moving fast.”

Tattered green plaid couch. Doilies. Linen against my skin. Tears streaming down my face so fast nothing I do can stop them from soaking the collar of my dress. Sobs rip through me harder than any pain I’ve ever felt. I feel a hand on mine. I try to look up through blurry eyes. Two sets of arms around me. One set of hands holding mine. Soft, soothing voices I know well whispering that I’ll see him again someday. One means heaven, one means another life, one means in my dreams. A flag in my lap. I don’t want it. I want him. Forever was supposed to be longer than a day.

END OF PART ONE

#ashton irwin #5sos #soulmate au #luke hemmings #ashton #calum hood #michael clifford #au #soulmates #original character #ashton au #ashton imagine #ashton fic #ashton irwin fic #ashton irwin imagine #ashton irwin au

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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

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Stupid For You, Chapter 9 (Crygi, Jankie) - Metaluna

Chapter summary: After the day from Hell, Crystal and Gigi have an important conversation.

Being a happy person is something that Crystal prided herself in. No matter what, she always tried to have a positive outlook on life, even when Ryan was bad to her, or when her parents weren’t around. She could always look on the bright side of life.

That was until she and Gigi fought. She’d never felt such negativity in her eighteen years. Just when she thought it couldn’t get any worse, Brita’s party happened, which led to Vomitgate. Vomitgate was singlehandedly the worst thing that had ever happened to her social life. Now, she couldn’t go to work without someone whispering about her in the breakroom. Everywhere she went, someone was there to make her feel embarrassed, usually people she didn’t even know.

While she sat in the breakroom, she saw a girl that Gigi worked with, whose name she thought to be Dahlia, whispering to some girl Crystal didn’t recognize. The moment Crystal looked in their direction, the other girl shushed Dahlia and they both laughed.

Finally she had enough.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Crystal demanded.

“Excuse me?” the girl asked coolly.

“I know you and everyone else in this fucking park is talking shit about me.”

Dahlia rolled her eyes. “We’ve got good reason to.”

“Are you kidding? You can’t tell me you haven’t been messy at some point. In fact, I’ve heard stories. I know you’re messy.”

Dahlia sat dumbfounded as Crystal turned her back.

“Hey, girl,” Heidi said as she sat across from Crystal.

Crystal grunted in acknowledgement.

“Don’t pay attention to them.”

“What’s wrong with them?” Crystal whined.

“I don’t know. I know for a fact Miss Dahlia over there definitely got sick at my party and completely missed the toilet,” Heidi said staring at Dahlia, making sure she’d heard every word.

As Crystal lay her head on the table, groaning dramatically, she felt her phone buzz.

Gigi.

Heidi saw the shock on Crystal’s face. “It’s not your boyfriend, is it?”

She shook her head. “Gigi.”

Raising an eyebrow, Heidi said, “Oh, shit. What’s it say?”

Crystal read the text aloud to Heidi.

Hey. I know youve been going through it, and that really sucks. Id like to talk things through if youre down

Crystal’s thumbs couldn’t move fast enough.

oh my god its so good to hear from you. yea things have been Awful… i definitely wanna talk when are you free??

“She wants to talk about things,” Crystal said to Heidi, as she feverishly tapped her fingers on the table anxiously awaiting Gigi’s response.

Okay awesome! Im soft closing tonight, so Im off at 8. Games is off at 8 at the latest right? Meet me at the ferris wheel.

“Wait, why does she want to meet at the Ferris wheel?” Crystal asked, looking up from her phone to Heidi.

“The grand tradition,” Heidi said dramatically. “Anytime there’s any grief with two people at the Isle, you take a ride on the Ferris wheel to talk it out. Mainly because the two of you are stuck together, so you either sit awkwardly or talk through your shit.”

“That’s… weird. Okay.”

Crystal quickly typed up a response..

ill be there!!!!

Crystal felt relieved. Things were finally turning around. Or so she’d hoped.

Later on, Crystal’s shift at the ring toss game was interrupted by a middle-aged mother’s tirade at not winning a single time. “Can’t I just buy the prize?”

Normally Crystal was sympathetic, but considering it was the third time that day and she was already having a terrible day, her responses were short, much like her temper. “No. You have to win the game.”

“You’re ruining my little Lucy’s day!” the woman motioned to her little devil spawn.

“Sorry,” Crystal mumbled.

“I know you probably don’t give a fuck and probably don’t even want to be here, but you’re literally ruining our vacation! We paid good money to be here and now I can’t even win this fucking game? Are you serious?”

Crystal shrugged as she accidentally let out the yawn she was holding in.

“Young lady, you are being extremely rude!”

“I can call my supervisor if you want,” Crystal offered, taking the radio off her belt.

“No. I’m going straight to guest relations.”

“It’s to your left as you leave the park.”

Just as the woman turned to leave, the woman turned around and spat in Crystal’s face. At first, Crystal was in such a state of shock she didn’t realize what happened. By the time she processed it, she let out a scream.

Thankfully, Widow stopped the woman from leaving as Ben called Brooke who came out to handle the situation almost instantly. Before long, there were two security guards who came to escort the angry woman and her child out of the park.

Just as on her first day, Brooke comforted Crystal. “Are you okay, honey?”

Hot tears ran down Crystal’s face as she shook her head. “No.”

“Let’s get you out of here.”

Brooke led Crystal back into the money room. As Brooke gave Crystal a bottle of water, the floodgates opened. Every single negative emotion Crystal had been feeling the past couple of months rose to the surface. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d cried this hard.

“Let it out, honey,” Brooke rubbed Crystal’s shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” Crystal apologized. “I’m sorry you’re stuck taking care of me again.”

Brooke smiled compassionately. “I like taking care of you all. It’s kind of why I do this.”

Crystal wiped her eyes. “Really?”

She nodded and hesitated before she continued. “I feel like there’s something else going on. Being spat on is disgusting, but I feel like just from what I’ve seen with you interacting with guests and just in general, you aren’t yourself right now, are you?”

This only made Crystal cry harder.

“Deep breaths. Talk to me.”

Once she caught her breath, Crystal told Brooke everything. Starting from her fight with Gigi, ending with Vomitgate, she put everything on the table.

“Vomit…gate?” Brooke questioned. “Okay. Well. That’s terrible. I’m sorry your peers are being so immature. I can try to say someth–”

“No!” Crystal shouted. “Sorry… I mean… that’s not necessary.”

“Don’t worry about it. Also, Crystal, every season I feel like there’s a new host who just has the worst luck with guests, and it’s always the gentlest souls, too. I’m sorry to say that it’s you this season.”

“Oh fucking great,” Crystal muttered. “Sorry.”

“I don’t fucking care if you swear,” Brooke said laughing. “But, because that woman did spit on you, which is considered as an act of violence. So, I’m going to need to take you to HR and you’re going to have to file a report.”

Brooke immediately saw the panic on Crystal’s face.

“You aren’t in trouble, not by any means, Crystal. It’s just to make sure that this is on record. Do you want to press charges?”

Immediately, Crystal shook her head. “No. That’s okay.”

“Are you sure?”

Crystal nodded.

Once Crystal managed to stop crying, Brooke grabbed a Kleenex to fix Crystal’s makeup, and led them to the HR building. Crystal hadn’t been to the HR building since orientation on her first day.

Brooke led her into the room where park orientation was held. Instead of there being rows of chairs, there was a table with two office chairs on either side. A woman who looked like she shopped exclusively in the clearance section of TJ Maxx with a tall stack of papers in front of her was sitting on one side.

“Do you want me to stay?” Brooke offered.

“Yes, please,” Crystal whispered as she sat across from the woman.

“You must be Crystal,” the woman began. “I’m Monique. Please, sit.”

Crystal pursed her lips and didn’t say anything. Brooke, who was sitting next to her rubbed her back in reassurance. “Yes.”

“Do you want to tell me what happened today?”

No. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Okay. Start from the beginning. I’m just going to write what you say, okay?”

Crystal nodded. “So… I was at the game–”

“Which game?” Monique interrupted. “Sorry. You have to be as thorough as possible.”

“It’s okay. I was at the ring toss game today at like 2:30. This woman and her kid come up to play, and they lose, and she gets pi–…. Mad at me and starts yelling at me like the guests normally do. Maybe I could have been a little bit warmer with my responses… Whatever. Anyway. I asked if she wanted to talk to Brooke, and she said no, she’s going to HR. I told them where it was, since it’s kind of hidden, you know? I think she thought I was being cocky or something. Next thing I know, she spits in my face.”

“What do you mean, could have been warmer in your responses?”

Crystal sighed. “I don’t know. I was nice to her like I always am. But usually I listen more? I don’t know.”

“Did you say anything with malicious intent?”

“ What? No! I just… kind of wasn’t super into my responses.”

“What do you mean ‘into’?”

“I just kinda was monotone with it, I guess? Which, like, I know isn’t good, but I had a bad day and–” Crystal cut herself off as she felt tears forming. Brooke noticed immediately as she slipped her a Kleenex.

“We strive for excellent guest service here.”

“I know,” Crystal whined. “I just…”

“I think that she’s given you more than enough details, Ms. Hart,” Brooke said.

“Okay, okay. Can I just have you write everything you just told me?” She slid Crystal the stack of papers.

The sheer amount of paperwork was massive. There were so many spots to initial and sign that by the time she got to writing her statement, she felt like she couldn’t write anymore.

Monique rose. “I’ll leave you two to it. Just leave the statement when you’re done.”

“Crystal, hey, you’re okay. It’s okay. It’s a lot, but just write everything that happened. You don’t have to say that you weren’t as nice as you could be. I’m sure you were kind like you always are. Just write it as detailed as you can, okay?” Brooke’s tone comforted Crystal as she began to write.

By the time Crystal finished writing her statement, she’d filled nearly all the lines on the paper. After signing her name one last time, she dramatically threw the pen down and stretched.

“Can we go back yet?” Crystal asked.

“Not quite yet,” Brooke said as she led Crystal to the back of the HR building.

“Why not?” she whined.

Wordlessly, Brooke led Crystal into a room she had to scan her badge to enter. The lights flickered a few times before coming in to reveal a breakroom that looked like it hadn’t been renovated since the park opened back in the eighties.

“You, my dear, need some ice cream.” Brooke went to the freezer and pulled out one of the overpriced ice cream bars that were sold to guests, which Crystal gratefully took.

“You’re the best,” Crystal said as she took a bite.

When she made it back to her game booth, Crystal was convinced her day was going to be better. If nothing else, she got to take a break for an hour and eat ice cream. It was going to be a good rest of the day, or so she thought.

On her second break, Crystal went into the restroom. As she locked the stall door, she heard a group enter. It was at least three people judging by the voices she could hear.

“Anyway yeah,” one of the voices began. “Gigi’s gotta hate her by this point. Those were some nice ass shoes she was wearing.”

“I thought they already hated each other? They never are with each other anymore. They were together so much,” a second voice said.

A third voice spoke up. “Yeah it was weird as fuck they were together so much you’d think they were dating or something.”

“I don’t know,” the second voice continued. “Either way, I’m glad Gigi’s not friends with her anymore. She’s annoying as fuck.”

“Right? The bitch doesn’t stop crying ever.” the first voice agreed. “Plus what’s up with her makeup? Sweetheart, the circus isn’t in town until next month.”

The other two laughed.

Of course her day wasn’t going to improve. Why would it? She knew that she shouldn’t let people’s words get to her. Crystal was used to being picked on for being eccentric. But with the day she’d already had, Crystal had enough.

Crystal forcefully slammed the stall door open. She didn’t even know the three girls, but vaguely recognized them as being in Dahlia’s gang. They were all standing in front of the sink fixing their makeup and hair. Crystal body checked one of the girls to get to the sink.

“What do you think you’re doing?” the girl jeered.

“Really? You’re going to talk all that shit about me and not even get the fuck out of my way? Next time you’ve got some shit to say, say it to my face, you cowards.”

When she got back from her break, she was visibly shaken. When Brooke made her rounds to check on everyone, she noticed just how upset Crystal looked. “Are you okay?”

Crystal shook her head.

“Today’s just not your day, is it, honey?”

“Nope.”

“Well,” Brooke began. “We’re overstaffed right now. Do you want to go home?”

This was music to Crystal’s ears. “Absolutely.”

“Go clock out. I’ll take care of it.”

In Crystal’s relief of leaving the hellhole that was work, she forgot all about meeting Gigi.

Gigi checked the time on her phone. It was 8:10. Five more minutes. She’d wait five minutes to see if Crystal would show. Gigi decided to not text Crystal, and decided that if she wanted to show up, she’d be there.

Five more minutes passed. As Gigi looked around The Boardwalk, there was no bright red hair to be seen. Maybe she just got held up. Gigi decided to give it another ten minutes, before giving up and defeatedly walking back to her Jeep.

Fuck you, Crystal.

Later that night, Gigi laid on her bed staring up at the ceiling wondering how she could let Crystal play with her emotions so much.

Just as she was about to wallow in her self-pity some more, her phone buzzed, notifying her that Jan was calling on Facetime.

“Hey, gorg!” Jan greeted, as she was lying in bed with Jackie.

“Hey guys,” Gigi said glumly.

“How’d it go?” Jackie asked.

“It… didn’t.”

Jan’s eyes widened. “She didn’t show up?”

Gigi shook her head as she felt herself starting to cry. “I’m so stupid.”

“Listen here, Gigi,” Jan began. “You are not stupid.”

“Did you text her?” Jackie asked.

“No, because I figured that if she really wanted to see me, I shouldn’t have to remind her,” Gigi explained. “But why do you think she didn’t want to see me?”

“I don’t know, Gigi,” Jan said. “Who knows what’s going on in that weird little brain of hers.”

Gigi plopped face down on her pillow as she screeched. “Fuck her. If she doesn’t want to talk to me, then it’s her loss. I don’t even care anymore.”

“You have to do what’s best for you,” Jackie said.

An alert informed Gigi she got a text. From Crystal.

“Fuck. It’s her,” Gigi squeaked.

“What did you say about not caring anymore?” Jan teased.

oh my god gigi i am so sorry you have no idea holy shit i had the worst day of my life. someone spit on me and i had to file a report and then these girls were talking about me and literally everything was terrible today to the point that my supervisor let me go home early and i came home and i fell right asleep and i just woke up like ten minutes ago and i feel terrible and you probably don’t want ot talk to me but oh my god gigi please im so sorry please please please talk to me

Gigi went back to the call as she reread the text. “And the impressive part is there was not a single punctuation mark in that entire text, and only one typo.”

“Wow,” Jackie said. “What are you going to do?”

“What should I do?”

Jan shrugged. “What do you think feels right?”

“I really still lo… like her a lot. As a friend,” Gigi managed ro recover smoothly. “I don’t really want to ruin that.”

“Then tell her that,” Jan suggested.

Gigi carefully composed her response.

Wow that sounds…. terrible. Im really sorry that happened to you :(( I’m definitely still down to talk. Same place and time tomorrow?

Crystal texted back immediately.

ill be there.

After Jan hung up, she rested her head on Jackie.

“We’re good friends,” she said confidently.

“We are,” Jackie said as she kissed Jan’s cheek.

“I feel bad for them though.”

“I do too,” Jackie agreed.

“This feel selfish to say,” Jan began, “but even though they’re having a bad time, this is probably one of the best summers I’ve had in a while.”

Jackie smiled. “Do I have anything to do with that?”

“Baby, you have everything to do with it.” Jan snuggled closer to Jackie.

“Hey, Jan?” Jackie began nervously.

“Yes, Jackie?”

“I have to talk to you about something.”

Immediately, tears began to well in Jan’s eyes. “Do you not want to do this anymore?”

“What? No!”

“Then what?” Jan was near hysterics.

“Jan… This has been the best summer I’ve had in a while, too. And you’re the reason for that. Every second we spend together is the happiest I’ve been in a very long time. I spent so much time in high school planning the next step, but when I’m with you I live in the moment. I stop worrying.”

Jan didn’t say anything, so Jackie continued. “I know that we had a rocky start, and every day I regret that. I just want you to know that I’m ready.”

Jan looked up at Jackie. “Ready for what?”

Jackie was fairly certain that Jan knew exactly what Jackie meant. “Jan. I’m asking you to be my girlfriend.”

Jan remained silent.

“Jan?”

“Shh…” Jan closed her eyes and raised her hand in front of Jackie’s face.

Jackie raised an eyebrow. “Did you just shush me?”

“I want to remember this.”

“Remember… what?”

“I want to remember the second I became your girlfriend,” Jan said smiling.

“God, you’re dramatic, honey,” Jackie said rolling her eyes.

“You love it,” Jan teased.

The next day at work, Gigi couldn’t focus on anything. She desperately wanted for her shift to be over so that things could be right again.

Luckily for her, the park was busy since it was a weekend, and it had rained all day, so guests were taking shelter in the store which kept her busy. Gigi couldn’t sell overpriced plastic ponchos fast enough. She was so focused on meeting Crystal that a woman yelling at her for how cheaply made the ponchos were didn’t even register.

When it was time for Gigi to clock out, she couldn’t run fast enough. Quickly, she changed into whatever t-shirt and shorts she had in her work bag before making her way to The Boardwalk.

Gigi was surprised that she beat Crystal there, considering Crystal worked right next to the Ferris wheel. She tried to not think about it too much as she took a seat on a nearby bench. To pass the time, she anxiously bounced her knee up and down as she scrolled through social media. After what seemed like hours, she finally saw Crystal approach her.

Since it had just stopped raining and the outdoor rides had just started running again, there was no wait. As they stepped on the platform, Crystal said, “After you, my love.”

Gigi took a deep breath as she sat on the damp cabin of the Ferris wheel. Before Gigi could even fully sit down, words poured out of Crystal’s mouth so quickly she barely understood what she was saying.

“Gigi, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your shoes… I know they were your favorite. I’m so embarrassed.”

“They’re just a pair of shoes, Crystal. Don’t worry about it.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Also, I’m really sorry that people are giving you such a hard time about it. Don’t listen to Dahlia or her little clique. They think they’re hot shit but everyone in Sales hates them. Even Jan won’t talk to them.”

“Damn. They must be bad considering that Jan would talk to a wall… Anyway, thanks Gigi. I’ll try. I don’t know what their problem is.”

Gigi shrugged and repeated, “Like I said, they think they’re hot shit.”

The two girls sat in an awkward silence as Gigi tapped her fingers against her thigh. Gigi hoped to God that Crystal would speak up before she did.

“About National Roller Coaster Day…” Crystal began. “Me going with Widow and Heidi instead of you guys wasn’t because I wanted to hurt your guys’ feelings or didn’t want to hang out with you. I miss you guys a lot. Anyway, I legitimately had no plans of going because Ryan was being needy. But, Widow showed up on my doorstep sobbing since her boyfriend broke up with her. I asked if going to the after-hours thing would cheer her up and she said it would. I made up some dumb excuse to Ryan and went with Widow and met up with Heidi. I was thinking about texting Jan that but I felt like it’d be weird to text her that, and I figured we wouldn’t run into each other, anyway.”

“And then we did.”

“And then we did,” Crystal sighed. “Gigi, please know there was no malicious intent with that one. I miss spending time with you.”

Gigi also sighed. “I miss our car rides.”

“No one else I know will listen to me sing One Direction the way you do.”

“I miss your coffee-making abilities,” Gigi admitted.

“We had some great times earlier in the season. But I had to go and ruin it. All of it.” Gigi didn’t say anything and let Crystal continue. “I should have never used any of what you told me against you. I don’t know why I did it.”

“You were pissed and said whatever came into your mind.”

Crystal sighed. “It’s still no excuse. I said some awful shit.”

“You did. I probably shouldn’t have insulted your boyfriend,” Gigi admitted.

Crystal sighed as tears formed in her eyes. “It’s… complicated.”

“I can’t even imagine,” Gigi said sympathetically as she looked at Crystal’s arm that had a bruise identical to the one Gigi found. “I know that you didn’t mean it. We all say stupid shit when we’re upset about stuff. Crystal, you don’t have a mean bone in your body. I hate seeing you this sad.”

“I feel like I’m such a bad person,” Crystal said, wiping her eyes.

“My mom told me this a while ago and it stuck. Crystal, bad people don’t think they’re bad people, and they sure as hell don’t try to become better people.”

“Your mom’s a smart lady.”

“She’s been through hell and back, that’s for sure.”

As the conversation dipped into another lull, the Ferris wheel reached the top. Admiring the cotton candy sky, Gigi thought long and hard about what she wanted to say next. She decided if she and Crystal were going to make their friendship work, everything had to be on the table.

Well, maybe not everything. Crystal didn’t have to know she was in love with her. But, Gigi figured Crystal should at least know the part of her she was hiding.

Slowly, the Ferris wheel reached the platform, and before Gigi could speak up, Crystal stepped out and held out her hand to help Gigi get out.

Shit.

#rpdr fanfiction #gigi goode #crystal methyd #jackie cox #jaida essence hall #jan sport #nicky doll #crygi #jankie #jaida x nicky #lesbian au #slow burn #stupid for you #metaluna #s12

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