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sexy-monster-fucker · 4 months ago

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You Could Love Me If I Knew How to Lie

Dr. Gregory House x Doctor!Reader

Story Synopsis: Reader is a Doctor alongside House. They have known each other for years, mostly been dancing around being intimate with one another. Even though it is painfully obvious to their close friend, Wilson. After finally allowing their guards to fall, the Reader receives a letter inviting her for her dream position at her dream hospital. She has to make the hard choice of staying or going. angst/smut/nsfw/new relationships/minor fluff/typical hospital talk/situationship/

Part 2/Summary: Day after Reader’s night with House prematurely ended, she comes in to work not realizing House has practically declared war with her. [Reader is a Pediatric Neurologist]

CW: mentions of blue balls, bit of angst, house is a complete asshole, mentions of house’s scar,

[Part 1] <- -> [Part 3] / [Part 4] / [Part 5/Finale]

a/n: I just know House is the most petty muff whenever he is upset, and honestly there is no excuse for how he acts in this. this is just who he is.

title track 🎶🩶

~~~

“Heard you got paged in pretty late last night… early this morning?” Wilson questioned as you watched the floors of the elevator click by.

You nodded, bags under your eyes a little darker than normal. Still stretching yourself awake. Regret of not staying with House last night heavy on your mind. By the time you got home and in bed, you barely got an hour and thirty minutes of sleep before your alarm went off. You could have always ran to some cheap department store and bought a bra. Slept on the sofa in House’s office.

“Everything okay with your patient?”

“Of course. Honestly, she shouldn’t have even been my patient. But, House was the one that figured that out. So he had to get me here to rub it all in my face,” you exhaled, giving Wilson the knowing look. He smiled, trying not to laugh in your face. Faking sympathy, even though you would not have given him the same treatment had your roles been reversed.

“And what was it?”

“STD. The girl is sixteen, it was the first thing I had them test for. Guess I learned to do it myself,” your shoulders hung half-heartedly defeated.

“Oh, God. He’ll never let you live that down,” Wilson grinned, bumping his elbow into you.

“And I know it,” you smiled. Doors of the elevator opening on your floor. Walking out with Wilson, both of your attention being brought to the huddle of people at the end of the hall. Jumping straight into Doctor mode, rushing assuming there was an incident. Cringing when you both were greeted by House. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Bright blue eyes zeroing in on you specifically.

"Perfect. Two more samples for my little statistic," House beamed as he clasped his cane with both hands in front of him. Leaning forward and directing all the attention of the group onto the two of you.

"That can't be good," Wilson whispered to you through a fake smile. Nodding in agreement as you prepared for whatever nonsense House was about to involve you both in.

"So, tell the class. When was the last time the two of you had sex?"

You choked at the bluntness of the question. Hand coming up to your chest as you were caught off guard. Side-eyeing Wilson. His hands waved off the question presented to you, "We are not going to answer—“

"For some of us, it could have been last night. But somebody was too sweepy," he mocked you. Brows resting heavily against his eyes. Trying his hardest to embarrass and belittle you. Clearly wanting to make an example of you. Frustrated with how the night prior had ended. Your teeth began grinding together behind sealed lips.

Wilson whipped his head to look at you. Eyes widened with concern, "You didn't—?!"

"I did not—" you hissed, not even allowing him to finish the damning question.

Taking a deep breath to remain calm in front of all the interns and residents House had roped into his scheme. Some of them more inquisitive to the game being played than others. Too young and inexperienced to understand the petty actions of House, still believing any Doctor with tenure knew all. Not realizing you all were still human and sometimes you gave into your human urges. Narrowing your eyes in on the older diagnostician. Refusing to let your expression reveal how badly this childish behavior hurt you.

Being reminded why you always tried to stay away from a relationship with House. At the end of it all, he was House. A sad man in chronic pain who used Vicodin and other's misery to make himself feel a little better. Incapable of caring for you the way you desired.

"Okay, since you don't wanna answer that one, we can try this one instead. When you had sex last, did both parties finish? It is customary, but sometimes one, or even both, parties don't get to. That's what my little statistic is about. An epidemic in men known as Blue Balls. Caused when a woman leads a guy on, not letting him have that sweet, sweet relief," House cocked a brow at you. Eyes rolling down your body with his words. Even while mocking you, he could not stop checking you out.

You pinched the skin between your eyebrows. A laugh of shock escaping you. Somehow after all this time, his audacity still surprised you. Your tongue pushed into your cheek as you crossed your arms over your chest.

"Hmm. Not really sure of the scientific side of that. But I can tell you that you and every other boy here have been apart of a different statistic. Fifty-seven precent of women fake their orgasms for their male partners benefit," you walked over to be face-to-face with him, "Something I'm sure Dr. House here has firsthand experience with."

"Alright, everyone. Dr. House is done. Go back to your stations," Wilson dismissed the congregated group. You grabbed House by the arm, throwing him into the nearest vacant examine room. Slamming and locking the door behind you. House stumbled into the room when he mis-stepped with his cane. Firm grip on the bed stabilizing himself. Huffing as he sat up on the bed.

"Good to know you are still such a ray of sunshine when you've had your sleep," he pointed at you with his cane.

You took a moment with your back still to him. Trying to catch your breath before you completely blew up on him. Turning around with your eyebrows arched and shoulders stern, "What the hell was that?"

"Scientific research. Obviously. Didn't you study at Johns Hopkins?" House continued his mockery of you. Tone of sarcasm almost being outweighed by the anger that laced it.

“You’re seriously so petty that you’re willing to compromise our new doctors with some nonsense about blue balls?”

“It is not nonsense! Check mine yourself,” House teased, gesturing towards his zipper.

You scoffed. Eyes practically rolling out of your head. Closing the distance between you as sharp eyes shot into his. Biting back all the mean and hurtful things you wanted to say to him. Finding yourself softening when he smiled at you.

“You’re so pretty when you’re mad,” House said as his eyes squinted up in a smile. Assuming he was undermining you, trying to get the upper hand.

“You’re such an ass,” you growled as you lightly stomped your foot. Face flushing at the compliment. Hand coming up to grab at your head as you tried to compose yourself, “If I’d known getting you turned on would get you like this, I would’ve left before I ever let you kiss me.”

“Right… but you didn’t,” House nodded, eyebrows raising as he looked at you.

“You told me to go home!”

“You yawned in my face!”

“You lied to me about a patient’s well being just so you could get your dick wet,” you bared your teeth at him.

“Ah. Not the patient’s well being. The well being of her mother,” House corrected with his finger wagging in your face.

You could feel your anger about to boil over. Hands shaking at your sides as you white-knuckle gripped your fists. Jaw locked as your eye began to twitch. Blowing air out your nose. Knowing all he wanted was a reaction out of you. Refusing to give it to him.

Deciding on a different strategy. You placed your hands on each of his legs, spreading them so you could stand between them. Hands splaying across his thighs, achingly close to his groin. Fluttering your lashes sensually up at him. Hooded eyes meeting his as your tongue parted your lips momentarily.

House leaned forward, closing the gap between your faces. Nose flicking against the tip of yours. Lips almost touching. Painstakingly close, lips parted preparing to accept the other when you spoke, “House… next time, try picking up one of the local strippers.”

Stopping both your movements. Your hand coming up and giving his cheek a light smack. House leaned back, biting his tongue as the vein on his forehead popped. Growling under his breath with a snort. Baring his bottom teeth to you as his nostrils flared.

You laughed at your victory. Stepping away from him seeing his body stiffen. “You do not play fair,” House complained.

“Awe, Dr. House. Not used to having someone match your game? Stings, doesn’t it?”

Earning yourself a prolonged scoff from him. Cane clicking against the floor as he stood off the bed. Arched eyebrows decorating the lines on his forehead as he stared at you. Mouth sealed shut.

“Want women to like you? Maybe try taking them on a date. Or, hell, just not being such a petty asshole to them. Compliment them from time to time,” you gestured with your hand as you spoke, walking towards the door.

“I told you, you looked pretty when you’re angry,” House snarled, voice still low. Stopping with your hand on the doorknob. Turning on your heel to face him once more. Eyes flat as you looked him up and down. Mind racing with all the things you could say to him. Wanting to smack him, wanting to cuss him out, yet the urge to kiss him still sat inside you. Giving him one final eye roll as you opened the door.

"Well, you do," House said matter-of-factly.

You parted from him, now being late on your rounds. It is very easy to loose track of time in the hospital. Only realizing how much had passed when you felt your stomach growl, reminding you that you did need to eat. Checking your watch and seeing that it was already afternoon. Coming to a natural end on one of your patient's files and deciding to head down to get some food.

Distracted by the other pages you carried in your hand, you bumped into Wilson. Stumbling backwards, but not losing your footing. Exchanging pleasantries. "Where are you headed?" Wilson asked.

"Gonna head down and grab a bite to eat. Wanna come?" you pointed with your thumb. He looked around for a moment, turning back and smiling with a soft 'yeah.' Chit-chatting about your most interesting patients on the stair-walk down. Explaining the trials you were running and how the MRI was turning out to be the worst part for patients. It was a longer than normal procedure. Having to lay in the head-cage while the machine banged and buzzed in your ear was not easy for adults, let alone children. Sitting out in the courtyard when he finally worked up the courage to ask you about the incident from earlier.

"So. Are you going to tell me what happened with you and House?"

You tried to laugh it off, clearly ridden with embarrassment. Taking another bite of your food as you looked out at all the other people sitting outside. Breathing deeply and swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat. "I got a call last night that one of my patient's mother's was distressed. When I got here, I found out that wasn't exactly the case," you sighed with your words.

"And...?"

You pressed your tongue into your cheek. "And I went into his office to confront him. And we... fooled around in his office," you smiled awkwardly. Wilson's jaw hung open. Eyes wider than you had ever seen them.

"Okay, we didn't have sex or anything—"

"But you 'fooled around'?!"

"I know— I KNOW! You and I have talked about it a million times and it's always a bad idea. But things just happened last night. I was sleepy, and he was handsy and I— I don't know what happened, it just did," your voice jumped an octave in defense.

Wilson could not help but laugh at you. Smacking himself in the face before leaning forward to stare awestruck at you. Attempting to force a sentence out, developing into another laugh followed by a heavy sigh.

"What have I done," you winced at the words you had said aloud. Your skin running hot, sweat beading upon your hairline.

"As your friend, and someone who cares about you outside of this hospital, I have to remind you how bad of an idea this is," Wilson steadied his voice. Looking at you with genuine concern compared to the joking nature you had both previously had. The hint of curve on his brows telling you how serious he was being.

You sat silently with his words for a moment. Trying to understand what exactly you were expecting from House. Romanticizing a certain idea of him in your head. Not without cause, of course. When he was good to you, he was good. Able to be more vulnerable with him then you had been with any other person in your life. Remembering the time he had called you to help him when he fell and could not hoist himself up do to the pain. Finding him laying in the floor. Exposed and angry. Pain throbbing in his thigh. That being the first night you had seen the scar. Not acknowledging it, or the fact that you were having to help him at all. Just assisting him to his feet and giving him his cane. Helping wrap a towel around his waist so he did not feel as unprotected. Walking with him to his bedroom. Giving him his pills, knowing he had to be in excruciating pain by now.

Sitting on the edge of the bed beside him. He was laid back in his pillows, hair still damp. Eyes glossy as he stared up at the ceiling, "I know you saw it."

"We don't have to talk about it," you whispered. Reaching out and grabbing his hand in yours. Interlocking fingers with a tight grip. Laying your other hand loosely on top. Examining his large digits. Tracing each vein and bone and scar, learning him. Sparkling, sapphire eyes stared at you. Trying his hardest to read your mind. Denying the tug in his chest at how beautiful you looked in the dimly-lamp-lit bedroom. Ethereal when your eyes faintly met his only for a second.

Recalling how he had sat up and pressed his lips to yours. Almost saying thank you with his action. Hand cupping the side of your face as he tenderly kissed you. Melting into his palm, finding solace in his touch. Guiding you to be laying down beside him. Hand flattening against his chest. Learning the rhythm of his heart. No other words were spoken between you. Simple consolation in one another.

"Whatever version of him you've made up in your head, isn't him. He coul— will hurt you, Y/N. I don't want to see you taken down in his crosshairs," Wilson rested his hand on yours on the table. You stroked your chin as you pondered his words. Nothing new. All things you had already told yourself.

“I know,” you said solemnly. Sitting silently with the newfound tension in the air. Wilson knowing well enough that the likelihood of you taking his advice was slim. You knowing that House would never be who he was in your mind. Watching Wilson get paged and leave you sitting alone. Staring down at the remnants of half eaten food on your tray. Playing out every scenario in your mind. There was none in which you did not get hurt.

Clearing off the table as you headed inside. Focusing back on the loose papers you had carried down with you. Opting to take the stairs. Hoping the adrenaline would get your brain in overdrive. Needing some conclusion on what the correct coarse of action was.

Freezing in your steps when you looked up and saw House standing with the young Dr. Cameron. She was beautiful and young and so very smart. And House liked her. A lot.

And as childish as it was, you saw her as a threat because of that. Pettily wishing she had never been hired by him. You knew better. But it did not change how your mind reacted.

“Ah— Perfect!” House directed his attention to you, “Here’s a good example of a woman directly leaving her prime. Dr. Y/L/N was the hottest piece of meat on the floor when she first started. Now she’s getting aged out by younger, hotter doctors like yourself.”

Stunned by his cruelty. Throat burning as fists balled at your sides. Warding off any tears that dared prick the corners of your eyes. The implication that you were no longer attractive creeped under your skin. Maybe it was the idea that he no longer found you attractive.

Eyes darting to Cameron’s face. Ridden with disgust and discomfort. Realizing they had not even been talking about you before House got his eyes on you. Just making sure he said something audibly enough for you to hear. Conjuring up whatever was meanest in the moment. Whatever he could do to hurt you.

And it did.

“Nice,” you deadpanned, eyes locked into his.

Walking away before he had time to mock the crack in your voice. This was how he was. Using whatever insecurity he could to hurt you when he had already beaten you down. Angry that you had ever convinced yourself he could be different. Embarrassed that you let him hurt you so badly. No one had ever had a hold on you like he did.

You rested your head in your hands at your desk. Hovering above the paperwork. Face hot to the touch. Wondering if he even cared.

Knowing he did not.

Deciding to spend the rest of your day locked away in your office. Getting as much done as possible. Because you would not allow him to ruin this for you.

~~~

[END//Part 2]

// Thank you so much for reading! I’m still very new to the whole House M.D. show, but I am enjoying writing this! I cannot wait to write more for this story. Reblogs and Comments are appreciated. If you want to be tagged in any of my future Fics, or have any requests feel free to let me know! //

{tags}

@houseslollipop ~ @megangovier ~ @iwmflbb ~ @yourgirlcarol ~ @needz1nk ~ @crimin4llyins4ne ~

#house md #dr house x reader #dr gregory house #dr greg house x reader #greg house x reader #hugh laurie #hugh laurie x reader #sexymonsterfics #writing #fanfic #part 2 #greg house #gregory house #james wilson

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lotusbxtch · 1 month ago

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SoCal to NorCal: Chapter 4

Series Masterlist Chapter 2: Hwy 101 & Beyond Chapter 3: Mill Valley

Series Pairing: husband!Joel Miller x f!Reader x boyfriend!Frankie Morales Series Summary: Joel is your rock, and Frankie is your ocean. So what happens when you bring the three of you together? - or - you and Frankie roadtrip up from Southern California to Northern California so he can meet Joel. A polyamory fic. This series exists in the Triple Frontier universe and is a Joel Miller AU/Triple Frontier AU. Series Rating: Explicit, 18+ only, MDNI

Chapter 4: Home

Chapter Pairing: f!Reader x Joel Miller (but don’t worry, Frankie is still in this chapter!) Chapter Summary: In the aftermath of your first night together, you untangle complicated feelings. Will Joel understand? And does Frankie feel the same way? Word Count: 5.6k Rating: Explicit, 18+ only, MDNI Warnings/tags: polyamory, references to MFM and MMF dynamics, oral (f receiving - Joel is a certified MUNCH), unprotected p in v sex (they’re a married couple), orgasm denial if you squint, cum kink, cum eating, Joel explores bisexual feelings, gratuitous descriptions of male and female anatomy, consent kings (like clearly consent is a turn-on for these two guys lol), romance, idiots in love, a little angst and yearning, wild crows make an appearance, Reader uses she/her pronouns, Reader is able-bodied, has breasts, and has hair that can be pulled, otherwise no description of Reader's skin color, size, body shape, hair color, eye color, or ethnicity, no use of y/n. Everyone is testing negative for STDs and Reader is on birth control. a/n: thank you for so patiently waiting for me to finish this chapter! We do a deep dive on everyone’s feelings in this one, so it took me awhile to write because i wanted to get the dynamic perfect. As always, bless my lovely @for-a-longlongtime (who also beta read) and @mountainsandmayhem for listening to me blab about their dynamics. Shoutout to @sin-djarin and @penvisions who got excited about the little blurbs i sent them and kept me motivated. Please let me know if I’ve missed any tags! Dividers & banners by the lovely @saradika-graphics, thank you. (Please note that the chapter graphic is NOT meant to be accurate to Reader — vibes only!)

If you enjoy my writing, please leave a comment, feedback or reblog! It would mean the world to me. Thank you!

Sunday unfurls like any other weekend morning. Sunlight shines through the gauzy curtains, the lingering scent of fresh sheets wrapping itself around your bare limbs. Joel’s warm body curls around yours protectively. Consciousness trickles into your mind, fuzzy with contentment. Laying with Joel in your bed, pressed skin to skin, is your favorite way of starting the day.

And then memories of last night begin to play in your head.

You feel a tug in your chest as you remember Frankie’s blindingly happy smile as he kissed you in your bathroom before hopping in the shower with you. When you exited, Joel had remade the bed with new sheets and was fluffing your pillows. You’d invited Frankie to sleep with the two of you, but he declined, explaining he had to be up early to go on a hike with his Delta Force friend Will, who happened to be in town as well. He would be spending most of the day with him, since it had been years since the last time they saw each other. When he kissed your forehead good night and squeezed Joel’s bicep affectionately, you saw a flash of his characteristic reservation in his eyes. You knew Frankie didn’t want to overstep, despite your invitation, and you allowed him the space to ease into this new dynamic.

But seeping through those delicate emotions you’ve yet to untangle is the hot flow of arousal from other memories of last night.

Joel’s hands on you while Frankie’s tongue invaded your mouth. The feel of both of their bodies against you as they stripped you bare. Joel’s booming “Stop, Frankie”. Frankie’s desperate eyes as he admitted to only wanting to make you come over and over. Joel’s thick cock inside of you and Frankie’s hot mouth sucking at your clit. The way Joel looked absolutely wrecked as Frankie tongued his shaft. The moans of pleasure from your two loves. The feeling of their releases mixing together and dripping out of you.

Frankie, Joel, and you may be still navigating the emotional aspects of your dynamic, but the physicality is clearly on the right path.

You slowly grind your naked body against your husband’s, arousal flowing through your veins from the memories. Joel rumbles a groan, the sound vibrating his chest against your back. His hands awaken and begin tracing heated patterns across your skin. When his calloused fingers pinch and squeeze your tits, you let out a quiet moan, the sound warbled with sleepiness. Your slick has already begun to collect in your folds.

Joel gently rubs his beard across the soft skin of your neck. “Good mornin’, angel,” he purrs, continuing his exploration of your curves and causing your breath to catch on whimpers. “So needy f’me already?” His voice is grit and velvet, his accent always thickest in the morning and when he’s turned on.

“Mhmm,” you whine softly, draping your leg over the top of his, opening yourself up for him. He slides his palm down your belly to the heated pulse at the apex of your thighs and hisses at what he finds.

“Fuck, so goddamn wet,” Joel breathes. He teasingly traces the pads of his fingers around your entrance, softly circling your clit to draw out more moans from you. Tapping his fingers softly on your slick pussy lips, he revels in the wet, sticky sounds.

“Roll over f’me,” he commands, and you oblige, knowing exactly how he wants you. He hands you a pillow, which you slide under your hips. Joel kneels behind you, placing his knees on either side of yours and tipping your hips up to expose your glistening center to him. He parts your folds with his thumbs, admiring the view of your dripping entrance. Your husband hums in approval.

What you expect next is his thick tip sliding along your slit. Instead, you feel him lick a hot stripe between your thighs.

“Joel!” you keen, feeling yourself drip more.

A deep groan escapes his lips. “Y’still taste like us,” he says, and laps at you again. “Came so deep in ya that this pussy’s still holdin’ onto our cum. Jesus.”

Your gasp turns into a moan, and you reach behind you to thread your fingers through his greying curls while he continues to feast on you. The tendrils of an orgasm begin to wrap around your lower belly, until Joel pulls back. You whine in protest.

Joel chuckles. “Patience,” he tuts, then lines himself up at your entrance. You push your hips backwards in blind desire. He slides his length along your folds to lubricate himself in your essence and the remnants of his and Frankie’s releases.

Then, inch by inch, Joel feeds you his throbbing cock.

You luxuriate in the warm familiarity of his girth stretching you pleasurably. Your walls pulse around him with every movement, slickening further.

Groaning, he keeps slowly pushing in. “Y’always take me so well,” he murmurs. “Fuckin’ pussy was made for me, huh?” He litters gentle kisses across your back, his forearms caging you in.

“Yes, Joel,” you whimper compliantly, drunk on the feeling of him sliding inside. “All for you.”

“What about Frankie, baby?” Joel asks. “Ain’t he allowed to fuck you, too?”

Your heart stutters, not expecting the question. Joel feels you tense up and stops the movement of his hips.

He leans forward, closer to your face and tips your head to the side. “Look at me, honey.” Your eyes flit up to meet his own, not sure what to expect on his face. But you’re met with the warm umber of his irises, nothing but love and a little mischief in them.

“Tell me,” he implores. “Use your words.”

You inhale, insides twisting a little with warring guilt and desire. “Yes, Joel,” you answer quietly. “Frankie gets to fuck me, too.”

“Gets to?” Joel huffs in amusement. “Don’t it feel good when he fucks you? Don’t you want him to fuck you?” His eyes never leave yours.

You’re not sure how to answer. Of course you want Frankie to fuck you. Joel knows as much from last night. He watched you spread your thighs for Frankie, heard how you moaned when the other man sunk deep into your cunt, brought you to your peak by rubbing your clit in tandem with Frankie’s thrusts. But why does he need to hear the words from your lips?

“Hey,” Joel interrupts your thoughts. You blink when you feel his thumbs caressing your hips. “If I didn’t wanna know, I wouldn’t ask ya.” He clocks your hesitation, knows precisely what your mind is churning around.

“Do you want to stop and talk?” he asks, moving to pull out from you. Hastily, you grab his wrist and shake your head. Joel chuckles a bit, but remains sheathed inside you, patiently waiting for your words.

You take a deep breath. “Yes, Joel,” you exhale out. “I love how Frankie fucks me.” You feel Joel’s cock jump inside you, and a small gasp tears out of your lungs.

Joel is actually getting off on hearing you talk about fucking Frankie.

Joel groans, slipping himself inside you to the hilt, gripping and massaging your cheeks with strong hands. “Fuck, angel,” he curses, barely withdrawing before thrusting forward, pressing right against your sweet spot.

A moan unabashedly exits your mouth, and Joel whines.

“What do you like about him fucking you?” Joel presses, setting a slow but deep pace. One hand grips your hip as the other arm braces against the bed. His voice has a ragged edge to it, and you feel him throbbing within you.

“I like… I like how desperate he can be to get inside of me,” you pant, core dripping more slick as Frankie’s fucked-out expression from last night flashes through your head. Joel grunts, fingers digging harder into your skin.

“What else?” he grits out, his own breathing heavy against your back. “Do you like it when he spreads you wide to look at that gorgeous pussy?”

You keen, cunt clenching on Joel’s length as you remember Frankie parting your thighs to watch Joel’s cum seep out of you. “Yes,” you admit. “He likes seeing me all messy. Likes watching cum drip out of me.”

Joel moans into the skin between your shoulder blades, his pace beginning to pick up. His cock massages that spot in your front wall that makes your nerves sing in pleasure. You decide to explore the observation you made last night.

“You made the prettiest noises when Frankie licked you, baby,” you croon. Joel chokes on his next moan. You feel his cock swell harder inside you.

Bingo.

“Did you like Frankie’s mouth on you?” you implore, pushing back against his thrusts to get him even deeper. Your cunt grips him, a velvet-lined vice.

A hoarse whimper escapes his lips. “Fuck,” he grits out, collapsing onto both forearms on either side of your head, working his cock into you over and over. His forehead presses against your back.

“Use your words, Joel,” you remind him, smirking at getting to use his own lines on him.

“Yes,” Joel responds with difficulty. “It felt so good. Like when you lick me, but… different. His tongue felt different.” His hips slap sticky-sweet against the supple flesh of your ass, your slick coating the both of you.

You’re on an absolute high now. “Do you want Frankie to suck your cock?” you ask your husband. He whines in response, hips thrusting harder into you. Your pussy spasms at the delicious display of his raw power.

“Fuck… yes,” Joel cries. His pants have a whimpering edge to them. He’s coming completely undone at the thought of your boyfriend wrapping his lips around his dick. “I’ve never… I….” he stutters, grappling with the ramifications of what he’s admitting.

You shush him gently. “It’s okay, honey, you don’t have to worry about it. Just think about how it feels.” As Joel keeps pounding into you, your hand slips under your hips to rub at your clit. The dual sensations ignite the fuse of your orgasm.

“So good,” Joel whimpers. “It felt so good to be inside you while Frankie had his mouth on me.” He’s frantic now, a harmony of moans erupting from both of you.

“Joel, oh fuck,” you cry out, “you’re gonna make me come. Don’t stop!” Three more thrusts and your release bursts forth, shimmering across your limbs. You press your face into the mattress to muffle your screams, and Joel follows suit quickly. Moaning your name, he empties himself into you, loud whimpers falling from his mouth with each spurt.

As your crests wane, you relax into each other. Joel gingerly rolls the two of you to the side, then slips out of you with a groan. He pads over to the linen closet to grab you a clean washcloth to soak up your releases, handing it to you before sliding back into bed behind you.

“So… Frankie,” you start, tossing the used washcloth into the hamper. You’re not sure how to ease into what you both know needs to be discussed. Joel hums in response, then makes space so you can shift yourself to face him.

“Seems like he’s done a number on both of us,” he chuckles. He strokes your cheek with the back of his hand, and you turn your head to kiss his knuckles.

You nod as a soft smile crosses your lips. “Yeah, I’d say so,” you reply. “But you seemed to enjoy him too, didn’t you?”

Joel looks slightly sheepish as he nods affirmatively. “Wasn’t expectin’ that, really,” he says, “but I definitely don’t regret it. I’ve always been curious about how I’d feel with a man. How are you feelin’ ‘bout last night?”

“Wonderful,” you admit, your cheeks warming at how worshipped you felt with your two men. “It was nice being together with the two men I lo—“

You freeze up, the word getting stuck in your windpipe. Love.

You feel the guilt rise up, numbing tingles traveling up your limbs, a growing sense of shame and unease. You shouldn’t be falling for someone besides your husband. You made vows; promised yourselves to one another. Sexual dalliances together with a third is one thing. But falling in love with Frankie felt like a betrayal. Even if it also felt as easy as breathing.

“Baby?” Joel says, pulling you from your swirling thoughts. Your brows furrow together, and you know your emotions are clear on your face because the concern painted across Joel’s features morphs into understanding when you lock eyes.

The guilt crowds your throat, thick and pressing. How could you even consider loving another man when you have this incredible, understanding person who’s stood by your side through thick and thin? This man who’s given you every part of him?

“It’s okay,” Joel reassures you. “Tell me what’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours.” He strokes your cheek again, your soft skin under his calloused thumb.

You try to swallow the guilt. “I love you so much, Joel,” you start. “And I also… I think I love Frankie.” You feel the tears start to well up. Joel’s thumb continues its soothing sweep across your cheek. “I’m so sorry,” you choke out.

Joel looks puzzled. “Sorry? Darlin’, you have nothing to be sorry about.” He kisses your forehead and you feel the first tears start to fall. His thumb moves to wipe them off your skin. “Thank you for trustin’ me with your feelings.”

“You’re not…” you blubber a bit, “you’re not upset?”

“No, sweetheart, no,” he murmurs. “I’m glad you’re finally voicin’ how you feel about Frankie. ‘Trust and openness,’ remember?” He quotes your wedding vows to you.

You nod, sniffling. “Never hiding how we feel,” you quote back at him. His lips tip up into a warm smile and he nods.

“I think… it didn’t hit me until you two were making dinner together last night,” you explain. “When I saw him next to you in the kitchen, working side by side, it just felt right. I felt the same way looking at him as I do looking at you.” You pause, looking up at him with an ache in your chest. “He feels like home. Just like you always have.”

Joel nods encouragingly. “I know.”

“What do you mean, you know?” you inquire, propping yourself up on your elbow.

Joel smooths his hand down your hair. “I’ve known since the other night when you two FaceTimed me. I could see it in your sleepy little face when you told me you liked him. That you really liked him.” He laughs a bit under his breath. “You said the same thing to me the night I knew I loved you.”

You smile, remembering the rush of emotions you felt that night nearly a decade ago. “I was still in denial it was love because I thought you were such a bastard,” you giggle. He pinches your side softly, and you give a tiny yelp, squirming away from him, but he pulls you closer and rubs his beard along your shoulder.

“I was a bastard,” he smirks, kissing your abraded shoulder. “A dumb bastard hopelessly in love with a woman he thought hated him.”

“I did say that I couldn’t stand you,” you point out.

“And you remember how that ended, right?” he shoots back, growling a little as he pulls you to him.

You roll your eyes, then kiss him. “Yes, I do. Unfortunately.”

“Unfortunately?” Joel repeats incredulously, his smile turning into a full grin. “Didn’t seem very unfortunate since you were screamin’ my name when I had my face buried between your thighs, hmm?”

Heat flushes your body with the memory. You smack him playfully. “Okay, okay, fine!” You kiss him giddily again, and the two of you lay there for a few moments in comfortable silence.

“You know,” Joel starts, breaking the quiet, “the two of you need to talk about this.”

You sigh. “Probably, but… I don’t know. Frankie has so much going on with Isabella and his career. I don’t need to be another complication in his life.”

“You ain’t a complication, darlin’. I’m pretty sure he feels similarly ‘bout you as you do towards him,” Joel reassures you.

“How do you know?” you ask incredulously.

“He looks at you like you look at me,” he responds.

“And how’s that?” you return.

Joel’s face softens a bit before he answers. “Like I hung the moon and stars f’you.”

Your heart flutters. You snuggle into Joel’s broad body, kissing the coarse hair scattering his chest. “Okay,” you say softly. “I’ll talk to him.”

Joel’s strong arms band around you, and he kisses your forehead softly once more. “Good.”

The rest of the morning continues in comfortable familiarity. After the two of you get out of bed, Joel makes you pancakes and bacon for a slow, lazy breakfast, then you head out to the Sunday morning farmers market in town. The two of you wind through the stalls, picking up things for dinner and refilling your pantry staples from your favorite vendors. After you finish at the market, you run some errands together and then return to the house. Joel goes into the garage to reorganize his toolbox to fit his new acquisitions from the hardware store.

As the late afternoon light filters across your yard, Frankie returns from his outing with Will.

“Hey, stranger,” you lilt when he enters the living room, where you’re curled up on the couch with your newest romance novel purchase. Frankie leans over the back and kisses the top of your head before coming around the front.

“Hey, yourself,” he warmly replies, lifting your feet up so he can sit down with them in his lap at the other end of the couch. “How was your day?”

“Good, just a lazy morning and then running errands ‘til we came home a little bit ago,” you explain. His hands mindlessly caress your shins, and you catch yourself thinking again about how right it feels to have Frankie in the home you share with Joel. “How was hanging out with Will?”

“It was so good,” Frankie responds, strong fingers massaging the arch of your foot where he knows you get sore sometimes. “We hiked around Mt. Tam, then got breakfast at a cafe nearby. We had so much to catch up on that we ended up having lunch there, too.” He laughs while shaking his head. You smile, rubbing his arm affectionately while he fills you in. Will is one of Frankie’s oldest friends, and it’s been hard to keep in touch with him after Will took a traveling role for the veteran’s organization he works for. You’re glad Frankie got the chance to see him; you sense some of the tension he carried this morning has melted off his shoulders.

Suddenly, in the corner of your eye, you spot a flash of black on your patio.

You gasp. “Oh my god, Frankie, they’re here!”

Frankie jumps a bit. “Who? What?” You scramble off of him and the couch, careful not to startle your visitor outside. He watches as you peek through the sliding glass door and let out a thrilled squeal.

“The crows! The crows are here!” you exclaim, zipping around the kitchen to gather what looks like a veritable charcuterie tray of foods: nuts, seeds, ground beef from the refrigerator, corn and peas from the freezer, and even a small bowl of cat food.

The look of confusion pinching his brows releases at your words. “Oh! I can’t believe I get to see them after all this time.”

The neighborhood crows you’ve befriended were one of the first things you told Frankie about after you’d met. You’d gushed about how you’d gotten them to trust you, rattling off the different foods you’d given them (which ones they loved, and which ones they hated). Frankie felt his heart stutter in his chest while he listened to you; his smile widened the more animatedly you talked. Eventually, you’d gotten embarrassed and apologized for babbling on about your wild bird friends like a weirdo, but Frankie stopped you right then and there. He told you to never apologize for being passionate.

“I was hoping they’d come to visit while you were here so you can finally see them for yourself!” You beam up at Frankie, and he can’t help but mirror the expression.

Frankie slides open the door for you, which spooks the crows slightly. “I think they might be scared of you because you’re new,” you explain. “Maybe go watch from the kitchen window?” He nods, and then you slip through the door, tray in hand, making clicking noises with your tongue at your feathered friends to call them over. Through the window behind your kitchen sink, he watches you place the board on the patio table. You begin to toss the morsels away from you. Two ebony birds alight upon the patio, followed by three more after being summoned by the first two crows. You chat happily at them, laughing and smiling. His chest feels like it’s cracking open with the enormity of warmth he feels towards you.

“Ahh, I see the crows are visiting.” Joel’s deep timbre breaks Frankie from his thoughts, the older man placing a glass of water on the counter. He leans his forearms on the kitchen sink’s edge to join Frankie in watching you interact with the corvids.

Frankie nods, chuckling. “She wasn’t kidding when she said they’re friends.”

Joel shakes his head, a small smile curving on his lips. “Yeah, I took a while to come around to them. I’ve never found birds particularly appealin’. But they make her happy, and I couldn’t deny her somethin’ that gave her so much joy, so I tolerated ‘em.” Joel shifts, turning to Frankie with a smirk. “And then one day I saw one of ‘em grab a damn gopher right outta the ground that had been terrorizin’ our garden for months, so I decided right then and there that they were alright.”

Both men laugh and turn back to watch you with your crows in content silence. The five birds have crept closer to you, sometimes squabbling for bites of the ground beef, while you chastise them for not sharing.

“You know, ever since she’s been seein’ you, she’s been a lot happier and less stressed with work,” starts Joel, and Frankie visibly stiffens.

“Oh yeah?” he asks rhetorically, eyes still on you, unsure of where the conversation is going.

“Mhm,” Joel nods affirmatively. “When she told me she wanted to pursue the work opportunity with the new office in LA, I was hesitant ‘cause I knew it would put pressure on our relationship, regardless of how strong it is. Would be the same for anyone in our position.” Joel stands up and rakes a hand through his silvering curls. “We balance each other out when we’re together. When we’re apart, I’m not there to help calm her down when work is gettin’ to her head. It kills me not bein’ able to help her when we’re physically separated.”

Frankie nods in agreement. He remembers one date night early on that you’d been late to because of multiple emergency meetings at work. You’d been so wound up and on edge that you hadn’t relaxed until Frankie finally dragged you out to his car, eating you out in the dark parking lot until you lost count of how many times you’d come.

“When things with the office started looking like she might have to be down there for longer than anticipated to get things fully set up,” Joel continues, “I knew somethin’ was gonna have to change. I could feel her anxiety become palpable.” He shakes his head softly. Frankie sees a muscle feather in his jaw; it’s clear to him that being helpless to assist when you’re struggling physically pains your husband.

“Usually I can help shut her brain off by gettin’ her off,” he chuckles, “but obviously us being apart made that difficult. There’s only so much toys and videos can do.” Joel shifts on his feet and stares at the marble counter before continuing. “So we decided to try out openin’ our marriage.”

Frankie nods, allowing the two of them to sit in silence for a couple of seconds. “How did it feel?” he asks, eyes on Joel’s broad form. You’ve mentioned how possessive Joel can be towards you, which made this decision surely not an easy one for him to swallow.

Joel gazes out at you in the yard, your hair ruffling with the late afternoon breeze. He looks down at his hands and smoothes his thumbs across the grout around the sink in a self-soothing manner. “Honestly? Even though I brought up the idea first, it gnawed at me a little,” he admits. “When I married her, I didn’t want anyone but her. The first time I kissed her, I knew she was it for me.” His eyes look wistfully back up at you again. “But I did some thinkin’, talked to my therapist, and realized that it was comin’ from a place of insecurity. I was worried about it changin’ how she felt about me. I think a little part of me was worried about her fallin’ in love with someone else, and out of love with me.”

Frankie’s heart lurches, and he swallows hard. He’s seen the soft yearning in your eyes that he knows must be reflected by his own. Is he taking that away from Joel?

Joel clears his throat softly. “We set up boundaries, rules,” he explains. “We approached it like adults, y’know?” He takes a sip of water, placing the glass back down and turning towards Frankie. “She hooked up with a couple people, one night stands at first. She didn’t tell me any details, and I didn’t ask. But when she came back home after those first couple encounters, she came home less stressed. And if anything, she seemed even more in love with and appreciative of me.”

Frankie huffs a laugh. “That seems hard to believe,” he smirks at Joel, recalling how smitten you are with your husband.

Joel rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, a flush rising across his cheeks. It’s honestly adorable how you’re able to get such a gruff man blushing. “The first time she came back from LA after sleepin’ with other men, she pounced on me the minute she walked through the door.” He sighs, his eyes flickering briefly with desire. “I asked her afterwards if she was so enthusiastic because she didn’t enjoy herself with the other guys. She said no, that it was because it meant so much to her that I trusted her and our relationship enough to do somethin’ new.”

Frankie grips the counter’s edge. He wonders if he is betraying that trust.

Suddenly, his eyes are on Frankie again. “And then she met you.”

Frankie swallows hard; he keeps eye contact with Joel as he murmurs, “Yeah?” His heart kicks in his chest.

Joel nods silently, his molten espresso irises focused on the younger man. “I could tell right away it was different. You got under her skin, in a good way. She seemed way more grounded when she got back home from the LA office after meetin’ you. That place…” Joel shakes his head in mild frustration. “It winds her up somethin’ fierce. But I’ve only ever seen her that calm when it’s just the two of us.”

The knots in Frankie’s stomach begin slowly untying themselves as he searches Joel’s eyes. Frankie expects there to be at least a little resentment, resignation, or sadness, but none of that surfaces in Joel’s expression. It’s only warmth. Warmth, and trust.

“You know, it was me that initiated our phone session when y’all were in the hotel,” Joel admits.

Frankie is a bit caught off guard. “Really? Have you ever… watched before? When she was with other people?”

Joel exhales a quiet laugh. “No, actually.” His gaze flicks downwards briefly, then back up to Frankie.

“I’d asked her for a few details before about other partners,” he said, “but not a full play-by-play. But there was somethin’ different with you. I’ve always been a bit protective over her. Not that I ever thought she needed it; you know as well as I do that she can stand on her own two feet.”

He and Frankie shared a smirk at that, knowing how you hated being thought of as a damsel in distress

“I just love her so much, and I worried other people wouldn’t treat her with that same care,” Joel continues. “When she called me because you needed proof that I was really okay with her hookin’ up with you… well, you were the first person who’d ever needed proof of our arrangement. Showed you were thoughtful and respectful, that you weren’t just jumpin’ into it without thinkin’.”

Frankie nods. “It didn’t feel right to me otherwise. If there’s another partner involved, even if indirectly, I want to make sure there’s consent all around.”

Joel’s face softens. “That’s exactly why I was completely comfortable with it. You showed you cared about her, but also our marriage. There was no thrill of illicitness in it for you.” He pauses, glancing back at you outside, and then looking back again at Frankie. “Also, I’d asked her a couple of questions about how things were with you, and she goddamn blushed.”

Now it was Frankie’s turn to be bashful. His cheeks flush hot, and he pins his gaze to the patterns in the marble.

“Never did that about anyone else,” Joel says. “So of course I wanted t’know more. As she gave me more details, I found myself gettin’ turned on by the idea of you takin’ care of her.” He cracks a sheepish grin in Frankie's direction. “Like you said, I jus’ want her to be comin’ over and over again. Anyway, because you clearly have an effect on her, I wanted to meet you, see how it felt seein’ you pleasuring her. So that’s why I told her to put on a show for us that night. And what you showed me was how much you care for her.”

Frankie doesn’t dare look at Joel; it feels too vulnerable. “I… had no idea.” His throat works as he digests the new information. Joel being so supportive of your relationship with Frankie wasn’t unexpected, but the extent to which he does, is.

The crows are still enjoying their feast out on the patio, and the two men turn back to observe you for a few moments when they hear your laughter through the glass. You’re giggling at one of the fledglings of the adult crows trying to figure out how to forage; it’s puzzled as to why the nuts and seeds aren’t automatically being placed into its mouth like they are when its parents feed it. Both men chuckle a bit at the scene, the momentary tension easing.

“She is something else,” Frankie says quietly, breaking the silence. “I’ve never met someone so warm, so vibrant, so generous. Always helping out others. Always with a smile on her face. A beam of fuckin’ sunshine.”

Joel hums in agreement. “She’s just… so full of love. Bursting at the seams with it. And honestly?” He turns again to the younger man before continuing. “I think she’s got the capacity to love more than you’d expect.”

Frankie swallows hard and returns his gaze. Joel’s expression is calm and encouraging.

“She means a lot to me,” Frankie says quietly, dropping his gaze for a moment. The knots in his stomach return, but for a different reason this time. “But I don’t know if I deserve her. I’ve got so much shit going on and –”

“I know,” Joel interrupts him, placing a warm palm on his shoulder. “But if that was really a problem, she would have pulled herself away much sooner. She knows what you have going on and she’s happy to be a part of it.”

He pauses for a moment before asking point blank: “Frankie, do you love her?

Frankie's heart jumps into his throat. He stares at Joel, trying to read his face for intentions. But all he sees shining back is a friendly, quiet steadiness, like the peaceful redwood forest surrounding their home. Not a single ounce of jealousy, anger, or sadness; just understanding and care.

He thinks back to the months he’s spent getting to know you, weaving you into his life. How you know Isabella’s favorite flavor of ice cream and the way you softly read her bedtime stories. The way your infectious laugh reverberates through the air when he tells you a new dad joke. Mornings spent on the couch with tea and coffee, you in nothing but one of his old army t-shirts. Your biting wit and sarcasm; your pure heart. The way you take no shit, contrasted by the way you give and give and give to those you love. The way his heart skips a beat whenever you catch his eye across a room. How you’ve woven yourself into the very fabric of his soul.

Swallowing again, Frankie takes a deep breath. “Yes. Yes, I do, Joel.”

Joel nods, smiling softly. “Then tell her. Not that you need it, ‘cause it’s entirely up to her, but I’d like to have you around as part of our lives. I want someone else around her who loves her jus’ as much as I do.” He looks back out at the patio, where you’re finishing up with feeding the crows. You must feel their eyes on you, because you turn to look behind you at them. A warm smile lights up your face, and the golden hour sunlight gives you an ethereal halo. Frankie’s breath catches in his throat.

You look so fucking beautiful.

Joel squeezes Frankie’s arm gently. “I’m positive she feels the same.”

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jacaerysgf · 1 year ago

Text

Not a one time thing

r.q: being friends with benefits, with jace where you both end up drunk at a party and end up having sx and the next day you guys laugh it off and forget abt it. but jace starts to crave you more and first you’re hesitant about it, but then you guys agree on friends with benefits. now you guys js randomly whenever you’re stressed or in the mood and calling eachother in the middle of the night. jace starts to catch feelings and like fights the urge to say ily while they’re doing it. and then they js like end up together idk. but you’re like my fav jace writer rn

w.c: 1k

c.w: slight nsfw, sweet jace, mutual pining, fwb to lovers, cute little drabble, not proofread, written with f!reader in mind but is basically gn!reader

You thought your slip up with Jace would be a one time thing, that after the two of you walk out of the party laughing about it that that would be it. Yet not even two nights later you’re staring down at a “are you up?” text from him. You don’t answer him, texting him back in the morning and saying you had been asleep and asking him what he needed, he had said it was nothing and he ‘figured it out’ but that just left you way too curious.

Yet when he shows up at your house at two am with his puppy dog eyes and a rock between his legs you let him push you on the couch and let him have you once again. When you wake up and he’s making breakfast in your kitchen shirtless you decide to lay down some ground rules to quell the pounding of your heart.

Strictly friends with benefits. No feelings attached. exclusively one another, definitely a rule in place just to avoid stds, no other reason. Arrangement must be broken off is one of you begins to like someone else.

Sounds easy enough. Its a good stress reliever for you, whenever you have a test or your studying is not going as well as expected you give him a ring and he’s quick to show up to take your mind off of it and you do the same for him. It works well, at least for you, but Jace seems to be struggling a lot more then you are.

You can’t tell he is of course. He is good at hiding it, but it begins to grow more and more daunting as he’s thrusting into you, staring at your with heart eyes that you can’t see since your eyes are closed, his thumb rubs affectionally on your jaw as he watches you climax, it’s gotten to the point he has no care for his own pleasure, he gets his fill from watching your eyes rolls in the back of your head.

Four times. It was a new record for him. Four times he almost told you that he loved you. He watches you as you scroll through your phone, oblivious to the internal battle he’s having. You are so beautiful. You haven’t even bothered to put back on any of your clothes, he admires you fully, he had no clue how long he was until you look at him with a raised brow, “You like what you see big guy?”

He loves you.

He simply reaches over and places a kiss on your lips before he lays back down. “What’s that for?” Because i love you. “To shut you up.” You roll your eyes and smack him on the chest. “Says you while staring at my bare chest you perv.”

He thinks he can keep it in for awhile, let his feelings pass. Yet he ends up blowing up. You have been spending a lot more time with cregan. Cregan fucking stark his best friend yet he has never wanted to murder a man more. Why are you walking around and smiling with him? Why did you fucking bail on him one night to hang out with cregan?

“Is this over?”

You turn to him confused, setting down the pizza you had ordered for the two of you down on the table and shake your head, “What are you talking about?”

His posture is rigid, he’s fiddling around with his fingers, he would normally be shirtless but you take notice of the fact he’s wearing a plain white shirt. “Are we over?”

“No? Why would,” You attempt to put it in the words, we seems to intimate despite the fact that's how he worded it, “our arrangement,, end? You like someone?”

“What about cregan? You like him don’t you?” You tilt your head at him and let out a confused laugh. “You mean your best friend cregan? what the fuck are you on about?”

“You said our arrangement ends if one of us starts to like someone else.” “Yes i did, so what you think i like cregan?” “Yes.” This is what breaks you and you laugh, you cover your face in your hands as you turn away and you laugh. “what the are you talking about? No i don’t like cregan. Why would it matter if i did?”

“Because i love you.” You freeze. You turn around quickly to stare at him with wide eyes. “What?”

“I love you. I don’t want to be some stupid arrangement. I want there to be us, we. Together.”

You gulp, you feel your feelings you’ve kept locked down bubbling up to the surface. You have to be rational, he is clearly not thinking straight you know him. “Jace. This is coming from you being jealous you shouldn’t say stuff like that. Hey ill stop hanging out with cregan without you-”

“No. I’m in love with you. This is not because I’m fucking jealous, sure maybe i am but i am so madly in love with you everyday i have to stop myself from professing my love to you from the highest mountain. If I'm saying this because I'm jealous then why do i feel the urge to tell you i love you while you’re withering underneath me. I love you.”

He had made his way over to you. He stands in front of you looking like a kicked puppy. “If you don’t feel the same we should end this. Never speak again, maybe that would kill me but i can’t just keep ignoring how i feel for you any longer.” He tenses in your silence, “Please answer me.”

“I never wanted to get into this arrangement with you because i knew one day i would crack. I ignored your calls and texts because i was so nervous to begin this dangerous game with you because i am so madly in love with you Jace.”

He rushes to cup your cheeks and he pulls you into a kiss. You can feel him grinning against your lips and he must feel the way you’re smiling back.

“Does boyfriend Jace fuck anything different than friend Jace?”

“You’re about to find out.”

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pinksatinpanties · 4 months ago

Text

HOLDING OUT FOR A HERO — misha collins

summary. Abstaining from sex wasn't a gargantuan sacrifice before you met him. The 90 day rule should be a walk in the park - at least that's what you thought when you made the commitment. Misha respects your boundaries, even during intimate moments when you beg him not to.

pairing. boyfriend!misha/celibate!reader

word count. 1.95k

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

part 1 - part 2 - part 3?

You took a vow of celibacy six years ago. When friends and coworkers discovered this information about you, they looked at you as if you had three heads on your shoulders. The concept of a young woman in her sexual prime purposefully abstaining from sex was entirely too much for them to grasp. Why? They demanded to know every single time. Instead of explaining that mediocre sex wasn’t worth the risk of pregnancy and STDs or the stress of uncertainty before test results came back or the fact that your reproductive rights were under attack, you simply replied “Because!” with the sweetest smile you could muster. You knew you didn’t owe anyone an explanation.

No, you weren’t waiting until marriage. No, you weren’t joining the nuns at the monastery. No, you didn’t hate sex. It was a lot simpler than any of those things, in your opinion. You were simply tired of sharing your body with people that didn’t cherish it as much as you did.

Sex with you was a privilege, not a right. And you were holding out for a man that knew and respected that. No matter how long it took, and even if you never found The Guy, you were perfectly happy dating your vibrator for the rest of your life because it meant that your dignity would remain intact.

A handful of guys pursued you over the years. You told them upfront that you were celibate, some tried to convince you to sleep with them anyway, you maintained that boundary, and that was all it took for them to lose interest and disappear.

Then you met Misha inside a Whole Foods on a Thursday afternoon. He asked you out to dinner and you dropped the bomb right then and there in the health and wellness aisle, expecting him to fall back like the others. But he only said “Cool. Do you like Italian?” He didn’t make a sexual proposition after that first date or any of the several dates that followed.

It wasn’t until three weeks into dating Misha that you finally considered the fact that he might be The Guy. But at the same time, you didn’t want to throw away your six year streak for some temporary fling. So you resolved that you would adhere to the 90 day rule. If he couldn’t hold out for three months, he wasn’t planning to stick around for that long anyway. In that case, good riddance.

When you shared this with Misha, he didn’t pout. He didn’t complain. His eyes actually lit up. “Would it be crass to mark my calendar?”

Your will was iron-clad for the first 26 days.

DAY 29

By the 29th day, you were begging Misha to fuck you.

Making out with Misha was better than any sex you’d ever had before. His pink lips were full, soft, and always topped with a coat of cherry chapstick. He was very skilled with his tongue - rolling his over yours, fucking your mouth with his tongue, and swirling it around the inside of your lips.

You had invited him over to watch a film you missed in theaters that had just dropped on streaming services, but that was a distant memory now that you were squirming underneath him on your couch.

He rejected your advances while smiling like the cat that ate the canary. He loved hearing you beg and whine for his cock, the bargaining, suggesting oral compromise.

“Just let me suck it at least!”

“No,” he chirped in a sing-song tone as he shook his head from side to side. “Oral sex is still sex.”

“A handjob then,” you offered.

“Still sex.”

“Fine. Let’s finish the stupid movie.”

DAY 47

Things were getting hot and heavy on Misha’s couch and you decided to cop a feel. Rubbing his erection through his pants made his breath hitch. He clenched both fists in an effort to stop himself from shoving his hand between your legs and making you cum all over it right then and there.

“Stop touching my dick,” he groaned.

You obeyed immediately, but you didn’t want to. “You’re really holding me to this 90 day thing, huh?”

“Yes. And you’re about to lose your kissing privileges, missy,” he warned. “If you keep teasing me.”

“You’d never deprive yourself of my lips,” you scoffed.

“That may be true,” he conceded. “Come.” Misha got up and headed down the hall.

“I’m trying to.”

“Come, not cum!”

Misha got a huge kick out of making you walk over to the calendar hung up on the wall of his bedroom and count the days leading up to the 90th day.

“See? It’s only 43 short days away. Not as long as you think. You can do this.”

You had no idea where he got all this sexual discipline from, but it was sexy. It made you want him even more.

DAY 56

It was late now, half past eleven. After closing your laptop for the night and taking a short shower, you returned to your room. You dried off your body with the towel, then ripped off your shower cap and flopped into bed.

Misha was filming a movie in California for a couple of weeks, but he made sure to text you every day while he was out of town. He hadn’t texted you ‘good night’ yet. It had been several hours since he last texted you, but that wasn’t unusual. Your boyfriend only touched his phone on set in an emergency.

Your boyfriend. No one had carried that title in a long time. You were glad you found each other. Looks didn’t matter, but damn, did they help…

You sandwiched the buzzing vibrator between your cunt and a pillow. You pretended you were riding him instead. Whimpering and moaning in the dark for him.

Misha. His tongue in your mouth. His hands cupping your breasts. His body all over yours.

How big was his dick? Was he circumcised? What would he sound like? What would he taste like? You had to know. So many unanswered questions…

The jarring sound of your ringtone forced your eyes open. You looked down at the glowing screen on your nightstand. The innocent picture you had taken of him kissing the nose of a friend’s little rabbit sitting in his hand covered the entire screen along with your pet name for him and the green and red buttons.

“Hey,” you panted - a little too soon after answering.

“Hey, baby,” Misha greeted. “Just got off of work and I’m headed back to my room now. What are you up to?”

“Uhh… I was just- um…” You hadn’t thought this far ahead, just impulsively answered the phone. But hearing his voice only made the rumbling beneath you feel that much better. “I just got out of the shower.”

“Oooh,” he teased. “Are you also running a marathon? You sound out of breath.”

“Um, no, I uh- Fuck.” You bit your lip to keep from moaning. “You’re not behind the wheel, are you?”

“No, my driver’s taking me back. What’s that in the background? It sounds like some kind of buzzing or…”

“Kinda caught me…hmm… in the middle of something here.”

“Are you… touching yourself?” He spoke into the receiver in a hushed whisper. “That is so inappropriate.”

“I’m sorry. I-”

“Such a filthy girl,” he murmured. You could practically hear the smirk on his face. “Phone sex is sex too. You know better.”

“Oh…” you let a small, breathless moan escape your lips. “Maybe I need to be punished. Maybe then I’ll learn not to be so filthy.”

“Later. Call me back when you’re ready to behave,” and he hung up on you.

DAY 68

You had a surefire plan to break him today. He invited you over for lunch at his place. You showed up at his door with pink lacy lingerie under your baggy tracksuit. You couldn’t even wait to finish the salmon over rice that he made for you.

“It’s getting really hot in here,” you declared, dramatically fanning yourself with the fabric of your hoodie at his dining room table.

Misha turned to spot the thermostat and pointed at it with his fork. “It’s 72 degrees in here.”

“Well, I’m reeeally hot.”

“Then take your jacket off,” Misha took a bite of his food.

“Whatever you say,” you purred. The hoodie unzipped and came off.

Misha started choking when he looked up at you. You thought he was exaggerating for comedic effect until he stood up from his chair and started pounding at his chest with the side of his fist.

You stood too. “Oh my god… oh my god!” It took a second for you to remember the Heimlich maneuver, but as soon as you did, you ran over to embrace him from behind and pulled your arms back and up. Half chewed salmon and grains of cooked rice were projectiled across the table.

“Are you okay?! I’m so sorry!” You placed a small hand on his arm and did your best to ignore how muscular he was. Now was not the time.

Misha cleared his throat. “I’m good. And don’t be sorry. If I had died just then, at least the very last thing I would’ve seen is you wearing this.” He placed two big hands on either side of your waist, gently caressing the lace covering your body.

“In that case-”

“Nope!”

“Come on, Mish…”

“You’ve held out for over two thousand one hundred and ninety days before you met me. You can wait 22 more.”

“I can’t! That was before I knew you. I can’t wait another minute, Misha, please. I feel like I’m gonna spontaneously combust.”

“No, baby,” he smirked. “But it’s good to know that I have this effect on you.”

“Why do you even care? It’s not like you’re celibate. What difference does it make to you if we have sex now or 22 days from now?”

“The difference is honoring your wishes. You said 90 days. Your celibacy is important to you. I don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret just because you got really horny from kissing me.”

“I won’t regret having sex with you. Trust me.”

“I’ll make sure of that,” he said, just matter-of-factly. Like it wasn’t supposed to turn you on. “Just think of how much better it’ll be knowing we waited.”

“It seems so easy for you…”

“Easy? Ha! That little stunt you pulled over the phone made things very hard.”

“Hard, you say?”

“Yes, when I got back to my hotel room… psssh, I haven’t pumped my dick like that since I was a teenager.”

“Well, send me a video next time.”

“You horny little shit.”

DAY 83

You two had formed a habit of napping together during the day. The emotional bond was long since formed. Exploring forms of intimacy other than sex had been very rewarding for the two of you, but it didn’t stop the biological urges.

“Mishaaa, pleeease,” you whined beneath him after a post-nap makeout session. “Seven days is close enough.”

“No, it’s not.”

Just when you thought the begging couldn’t get any more pathetic, tears began to fall from your eyes before you could stop them. “Misha, I’m actually quite literally begging you.”

“Oh, poor baby,” Misha murmured. “You want my cock that bad?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t worry, I’m gonna fuck you so good. Just like you deserve.”

Your breath hitched and your eyes lit up.

Misha grinned like a supervillain as he brought his mouth to your ear and whispered “In seven days.”

You completely deflated and lay there in his bed, staring at the ceiling as you grabbed one of his pillows and plopped it over your face. The smug bastard actually cackled as you screamed into the pillow.

⟡ ₊ . ༄.°

#supernatural rpf #supernatural fan fiction #misha collins #misha collins fan fiction #castiel #castiel fan fiction #rpf fan fiction #misha collins smut #castiel smut #spn smut #celibate reader #boyfriend misha #kat's originals ⋆♰❦♰⋆

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sticlinic · 4 months ago

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twisted-wonderland-but-gayer · 5 months ago

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Hiya! I've seen your AU!yuus and they're really cool and got me thinking of AUs.

One that's been on my mind is Law&Order!Yuu or Grey's Anatomy!Yuu, I don't know if you know these shows, but the shit they go through is just almost nerve-wracking. Especially the characters on the show such as Olivia Benson and Meredith Grey. They've been through so much and gone through so much shit yet they still continue their job to help people 🥲 So, I just imagine when they come to TWST, they're an adult and they're experienced with trauma, they know how to fight and use a gun, or they know how to use an operated table and treat fatal injuries no matter how bloody it is. Everyday is basically their job just like back in their world, helping people, having more near death experience, while sometimes getting a slap in the face. And for their friends and the overblot gang? There have been many betrayals throughout the gameplay. So for Yuu, I think they'd be a bit more on edge, having trouble to trust. And for getting home? They're tired of Crowley's empty promises, as everyday they're tempted to use tactics from their old job.

Also, another idea I had is if Law&Order!Yuu had a bomb dog back in their world, they would probably teach Grim to be a bomb cat. 💣

I barely watched law and order and do not care for Grey's anatomy (except the book that has been a godsend for my studies). But it did get me thinking of a House MD Yuu. Especially cause magical world = more magical bullshit

Yuu who is the nurse in the school but also doctor in training and Crowley is like, "Good enough. We don't need any more medical personnel" (Yuu is yet again overworked). But what Crowley doesn't know is the amount of medical malpractice and warcrimes being committed because everyone only hears praises

Vil drops off a student like "he's losing brain mass by the day. We have no idea what this is."

Mob student: Hoo boy. I can't wait to go play Overwatch after this

"I have a diagnosis Vil."

Even normal Sage islander people come in for Yuu because they're so good at finding out what's wrong with them. Many occasions of them breaking into houses to figure out more context for stuff. They come back to the doctors office like "were gonna test for STDs I caught your wife cheating"

"Yeah idk what's wrong with me. The doctors say I don't have anything. They tested me and said the tests came back negative." "Actually they're all positive, they just think you don't have it cause you're a woman and theyre less likely to be diagnosed. I'm writing you a prescription and putting this on the record so you can sue your doctor."

Doesn't know a lick of magic or have any context for potionology yet picks it up so fast and had the highest grade in the school for it (Riddle is seething.) Knows an insane amount of magical remedies/diseases despite being from another world just because they skimmed a kids picture book of sicknesses.

Even reads them in other classes.

Crewel lecturing them on standard medical procedure

"OK but did they die?'

"No–"

"So what's the problem?"

"Yuu it is illegal!"

"If I complied to HIPPA, they would've died"

Knows when patients are bullshitting. That one scene where House picks up a cup of piss and drinks it and is like "real nice of you to pour apple juice into this to fake a diagnosis. Now, give us your real sample."

"I tasted the patients blood from the sample. His hemocrit is off. Doesn't have the same flavor, right Lilia" "Hmm yes I agree. So glad to see a youngster practicing old school medicine. They don't let anyone taste the samples anymore..."

"So the patient has had magic acid poured on him and there's no cure? What if... more acid?" It works

"They have been cursed to only wake up by true loves kiss" "mmm no watch this." And Yuu takes out Grim, smears a bit of tuna on the patients lips and lets Grim lick it. Patient wakes up cause it was "true loves kiss" technically.

"Oh no. I must be cursed with ugliness" "ma'am you're cursed with a lack of self-confidence. You are one of the most beautiful people I've seen. Comparison is what is making you think like this. Here. This is the potion of reality I made. Drink it and see what you really look like"

"I have a bad case of stripes..." "Eat Lima Beans."

"Dr. Yu I can't get bottom surgery cause of most potions and surgeries are too dangerous for me." "Here try this I made– disregard that it says Penis Explosion Potion. I just thought it was funny. Works like a charm"

A woman comes in. "I feel like I get so anxious around other girls and—" "I diagnosis you with homosexual but stable"

Kalim gets poisoned one day and is rushed to Yuu and Yuus like "don't worry Jamil, I got this!" It's the strongest, most rare poisons with a 101% perfect death rate with a 1% margin of error. "I know just what to do Jamil stay in the waiting room" "no I have to stay here." "Fine just stay out the way."

Jamil is freaking out at all the odd thing Yuu is hooking Kalim up to and injecting him with before straight up doing a surgery. Everytime Jamil protests it's "do you want him to die?! Quiet!!" The poor man is almost ripping his face off as he watches Yuu mix and pour 18 potions into Kalims stomach and swirls them around which is definitely not legal. Yet Kalims heart rate is stable and he recovers better than ever! Wow not only is he immune to that now but his white blood cells have grown stronger! There's not even a scar!

"I didn't know you were a surgeon Yuu."

"I'm not."

#not writing #not requests #medic yuu #idk #ramshackle

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percynorthwest · 1 year ago

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Jegulus microfic - doctor

2/5-2024 @jegulus-microfic words:~1060

cw:medical inaccuracies, pregnancy scare (ig?), complications, ectopic pregnancy

"And how long has the pain been going on for?"

"It started maybe two days ago. But it got so much worse this morning." Regulus replied. "And my shoulders started hurting too, at the same time," Regulus shrugged, "I don't know."

James could see that tried his best to keep his composure, but he could see the pain Regulus was in by his stiff posture and the constant frown on his face.

"And since then, it feels like I'm constantly on the brink of fainting."

The doctor typed quickly on her computer. She too had a quaint frown on her face. James held Regulus' hand, stroking his thumb over the back of his hand. Regulus hand was cold, more so than usual, and he was looking a tad to pale, all furthering James' worry.

James looked up to Regulus' face, and saw how he took deep, rhythmical, breaths, once again indicating of how much pain he was in. His eyes were closed tightly, and when he opened them, he blinked rapidly to keep the tears at bay. James understood how much he hated this; being so in the centre of attention; being vulnerable; in pain. James raised Regulus' hand to give it a soft kiss.

"And how long ago since your last period?" the doctor asked.

Regulus stiffened further where he sat on the plastic bed. This wasn't a topic Regulus was particularly comfortable with.

"Ehm, two years ago, maybe." He replied, still looking uncomfortable, "It kinda stopped once I got on hormones."

The doctor swirled away from the computer screen, now instead facing Regulus on her chair.

"Are you sexually active?"

James could see Regulus getting immediately red, before he answered with a nod. Then Regulus' frown deepened further.

"But I have an IUD, since like three years ago. And I'm at no risk of STDs or anything" He explained quickly with a now really worried look on his face, looking even more pale.

"It's still highly unlikely, but not impossible." The doctor explained, following Regulus' line of thinking. "I want to be on the safe side though, so I'm going to order some blood test, that will not only screen for pregnancy, and then I'd also like to order an ultrasound."

Regulus was certainly looking a lot more pale now, but he nodded along.

"Both the blood test and the ultrasound could indicate what's going on, not only whether or not it's a pregnancy."

Regulus looked just as worried, but he nodded again, maybe just a tad relieved after the doctor's reassurance.

When the doctor left the room, Regulus dropped his head back on the plastic bed, groaning out loud. James dragged his chair closer to the bed, wanting to support Regulus in any way he could. Regulus dragged his legs up, folding himself up like a ball. James placed a hand on Regulus' knee. He could hear Regulus' uneven breathing, making his heart break further. He stood up, bringing his hands to Regulus' face, cupping slightly and wiping away the few tears that had started falling down his chin.

A nurse or something akin to one, maybe a midwife, entered the room. Both James and Regulus startled slightly, and Regulus immediately wiped away any of the tears James had missed. James didn't sit back down again, wanting to be as close as possible.

"If you could just come with me," she said softly.

They followed her into another room, in the same part of the hospital. The room had stirrups, which made Regulus grip James' hand more tightly. Another nurse sat in the room already, and he seemed to be preparing blood tests.

Regulus was asked to sit down, and the male nurse took two vials of blood, while the other nurse prepared the ultrasound. After the vials were filled with crimson red blood, the male nurse left -thankfully, as Regulus probably didnt want more people in the room than necessary.

The whole procedure was quite quick. Regulus was asked to take his pants off and place his legs in those uncomfortable stirrups, and the nurse could quite quickly confirm that Regulus had a ectopic pregnancy, letting Regulus get down and get dressed again.

"What does that mean?" James asked after Regulus didn't say anything.

"The egg has been fertilized outside of the uterus," she explained. "In your case on your left fallopian tube. It happens to about one in 90 pregnancy, and if one is to get pregnant while using an IUD, the risk increases." Regulus nodded, seeming to be listening in. "I'll have to confer with the doctor, but either you will have to wait it out, under observation, or you'll be given medicines to stop furthering growth. There's also a surgery, if necessary."

She left in order to get the doctor.

Regulus turned to James, with a stern look on his face.

"We are never having sex again."

James immediately burst out in laughter, slapping a hand over his mouth to stifle the sound, so stunned by the exclamation. Regulus was looking straight ahead, but James could see a smirk creeping on his face.

Once James had managed to stop, he turned to Regulus again;

"How are you feeling?" He asked softly, looking intently at his boyfriend's face, trying to gauge his emotions.

"Pretty fucking bad." he said, laughing slightly, but James could see the look of anxiety on his face, as well as a few tears escaping his eyes.

Regulus closed his eyes tightly, and groaned loudly as he pressed the heel of his hands into his face.

"I mean what the actual fuck? This is barley supposed to be possible!"

James didn't know what to say, instead just stroking Regulus' hair, tucking a lock behind his ear.

"I don't know, baby," he murmured, placing a kiss on top of his hair.

"This is your fault, you know." Regulus said, dropping his hands in order to glare at James. "You're sleeping on the couch indefinitely."

"Sure," he replied warmly. He would probably sleep on the street if Regulus so asked.

Regulus turned on the bed, dropping his legs of the side, now sitting turned to James. His face was still slightly crunched up in pain, and tears framed his eyes. He leaned towards James, who immediately engulfed him in a tight hug. Reg sobbed quietly into James' chest. James stroked his back.

"Everything will be okay," He murmured, once again into the top of his hair.

a/n:

i don't have a medical degree or anything, this is from what i've been taught in school and what i've researched online, so this could possibly be incredibly inaccurate, probably most so regarding procedure etc.

#regulus black #james potter #jegulus #trans regulus #trans regulus black #jegulus microfic #jegulus comfort #james x regulus

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sapphic-sex-ed · 3 months ago

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despite never having sex before I plan to get tested for STDs since I know you can get them through other means as a precaution, what type of tests do I need to do to make sure I don't have any type?

That’s not really necessary at all. The only ones would be the blood borne ones and if you don’t have a history of using dirty needles (injectable drugs, shady tattoo shops where you haven seen the artist open the packaging for the needle) or having had blood transfusions recently (as in the past 3 months). Some STIs are asymptomatic but not the blood borne ones so you would probably be aware if you had any.

This isn’t aimed specifically at you, anon but this over-anxiety about STIs and sex in general has me worried. Yes, there are risks with sex, as there is with crossing the road, jumping on a trampoline or cooking dinner. Do get tested 3 weeks-3 months (incubation time varies between infections) after an interaction with a new sexual partner or if symptoms occur but to get tested without any real risk of exposure is like going to your doctor and asking to get screened for the plague because you might have been near a rat at one point in your life (side note: the treatment for chlamydia is used for one other infection — the black plague!). It’s an anxiety-driven safety behavior. It’s understandable, because sex is so taboo and moralized about, and at the same time it’s not helpful in the long run. In America, there’s a personal cost to you, and in countries where we actually get healthcare at a reasonable or no price at all it’s a resource and cost question for the institution.

-mod liz

Note: HIV can be transferred by blood contact. Always wash your hands after handling human blood, and if you have an open wound touch someone's blood you should get the post-exposure medications and/or testing to be safe. The virus can survive for hours outside of the body and it's not worth the risk of unsafe handling.

-*Mod Star*

Note: while HIV can sometimes survive for a few hours outside the body, that’s a short time compared to other viruses. It’s known as a fragile virus. Be careful of course and use common sense (avoid touching blood that isn’t yours, keep any wounds and scrapes covered with bandaids or gauze, wash your hands regularly, basic hygiene things), at the same time don’t be overly cautious or afraid. If there is a known outbreak in your area you ought to be more careful than usual, otherwise it’s not something to worry about in your day-to-day life. Being risk-aware, ie taking appropriate precautions like, again, avoiding touching blood and washing your hands, is not the same as constantly worrying about infections and having it control and limit your behavior are not the same things. My main point in the original response is to normalize proportionate reactions and worry about infection because the question itself alluded to some neurotic tendencies towards health. As a counselor within the healthcare sector I meet people with these tendencies often and most of the time it’s an expression of deeper patterns of anxiety/neuroticism where the best course of action is to stop doing the safety behavior (for example screenings, checking in on the body trying to notice if things feel “wrong” etc) that on the lower end are mild and can easily be managed and other more severe end have developed into full compulsions and are often then diagnosed with OCD as a result.

So yes, take appropriate precautions, don’t ignore risks, and at the same time also limit safety behaviors because they may temporarily ease anxiety but in the long run they will cause that same anxiety to increase. It’s not dangerous to feel anxious sometimes.

-mod liz

#mod liz #sti #std #mod star #hiv aids

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wintaerbaer · 2 years ago

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things we don’t say: part 4 (kth)

banner credit: @itaeewon

summary: Three years after graduating college, everything seems to be falling into place for you: stable job, cozy apartment, and a long-term boyfriend with a ring box hidden in his desk drawer. But when a mutual friend makes a remark that your best friend of nearly two decades is clearly in love with you, you realize that life may not be as simple as it seems.

pairing: Taehyung x Reader (with some VERY brief Seokjin x Reader and Yoongi x Reader)

rating: 18+ (minors dni)

genres: best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, slooooow burn, angst, fluff

word count: 11.5k

chapter warnings: swearing as usual, jin is sad and precious, alcohol consumption, one (1) instance of mild violence, suspension of disbelief as to the legal consequences of said violence, jungkook still has zero filter, feelings and bed sharing

a/n: this was a fun one >:) shout out to everyone who brainstormed, sprinted, or otherwise shouted about this fic with me and gave me the motivation to power through this (y’all know who you are, and i love each and every one of you <3)! and a massive shoutout to @jeonqkooks for the beautiful new banner!!

PREVIOUS // SERIES MASTERLIST // MASTERLIST

Read on ao3

“And Tae encouraged you to do this?”

“Yeah. Kind of made up my mind for me actually.”

You toss down a few potential dresses on Maya’s bed after spending the past several minutes raiding her closet. With the bulk of your wardrobe still at your old apartment, she’d invited you to borrow something of hers for your date with Seokjin.

You may also be sharing a couple glasses of wine to calm your nerves.

“Hm.”

“What?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“No, but I can see you thinking.”

“It’s nothing.” She holds a sparkling gold number up to your shoulders, then frowns and throws it back down. “Or at least nothing you want to hear, anyway.”

“Don’t tell me you’re on about Tae and I again.”

She shrugs. “I think you’d be great together. Sue me.”

“I could say the same about you and Kook.”

A snort rasps from the back of her throat as she coughs on her wine. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“The two of you are more alike than you think,” you say. “And I don’t think you give him enough credit. He’s a good guy.”

She purses her lips, watching clouds go by out the window. “He’s…frustrating.” Her eyelids drop, coming together in a slow blink as her focus turns back to you razor-sharp. “And weren’t you against us together in the first place?”

“Yeah, because it was just sex.”

“It is just sex.”

“Well, I changed my mind.” You take a sip of your drink, let the acidic taste roll around and coat your tongue before it slides down your throat. “If there’s a possibility you two can make each other happy, then you should have that. I think maybe love is rarer than it seems.”

“He and I are far from love.”

“For now,” you say. “But maybe someday?”

She only grimaces like she’s swallowed a bitter pill, giving the tiniest shake of her head before rushing to change the subject. “Tell me about this Seokjin guy.”

“Not much to tell,” you explain. “Joon knows him from the hospital. He’s been very pleasant when we’ve texted. Polite. I’m definitely not getting creep vibes from him.”

“Always a plus. But still, text me the address of the restaurant and a physical description once you’re there.” She pauses, tapping a finger against her chin. “Also, I have some condoms if you want to take a couple.”

“Um, no?”

“Why not? Best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.”

“See, that sounds like something Jungkook would say.”

“Well a dumbass clock is right twice a day, or whatever the saying is.”

“I don’t think that’s quite right.”

“Close enough in his case.” Her voice lowers suddenly—delicately—as if to share something confidential even though you’re the only two in the room. “But speaking of protection, did you hear back from the clinic?”

Maya had delicately suggested a couple weeks ago that you should probably get tested for STDs given that you don’t really know how many women Jace had been with and if they were being safe. It was a fair point, as humiliating as it was to consider that he may have found yet another way to rip apart your life, and so you’d gone for an appointment last week, trying not to cry as you provided the necessary samples.

“Negative,” you murmur, feeling embarrassed even though you know you shouldn’t be and that your friend would never judge you. But the fact that you even have to have this conversation at all gnaws at your own sense of self-doubt. “I’m clean.”

She presses her mouth into a line, an acknowledgment of the misfortune of the situation, while simultaneously tilting her chin in approval. “Good.”

You pick at a loose thread hanging off the hem of the dress you’re holding, a dog barking somewhere outside the window as you grasp for literally anything else to talk about. “So where are you guys heading tonight?”

“Who knows?” Maya says with a sigh, leaning back on the bed. “You know it’s like herding cats with them sometimes. I’m supposed to go over there after this, and we’re going to wing it then.”

“So one of our usual clubs?”

“I’d bet my left tit on it.”

You let out a soft laugh, feeling that maybe you’d rather be spending time with your friends tonight instead of going on a half-hearted date. But Seokjin seems nice, and you’ve already committed so you’re stuck. “Could you please just try to make sure Tae has some fun?” You chew at your bottom lip. “He’s been so focused on cheering me up, I want to be sure he still has time for himself.”

“Worry not. I’ll help him pick someone up,” Maya says nonchalantly.

“That’s not what I meant.”

Her entire body perks up, eager that you’ve taken the bait. “Why, does that bother you?”

“Also not what I meant,” you say, crushing down the tiny flip in your stomach at the thought of Taehyung taking someone home as Maya pouts. “I just want him to enjoy himself. I don’t think he’s been doing enough of that lately.”

“Without his other half there with him?” Maya mumbles. “Fat chance.”

You ignore it, knowing she’s baiting you yet again.

But your heart warms all the same.

Seokjin is the embodiment of a perfect gentleman.

He’s handsome—you can’t help but notice as he stands at your approach, introducing himself and coming around the table to pull out your chair for you with a slight bow. When the waiter appears to take your drink order, Seokjin (or “Jin,” as he says to call him) offers to let you pick the wine, so you go with a nice-looking pinot grigio (you haven’t even been able to look at reds since that night). Typical first date conversation flows as you browse the menu, order, and wait for your food, and you find that Jin is soft-spoken without being shy, confident without being arrogant. He tells you about his job as a physical therapist and how he likes to spend his weekends fishing with his brother on his parents’ boat. As you likewise share anecdotes about your publishing job and college shenanigans, Jin listens attentively with kind eyes, asks thoughtful questions, and chuckles at all the right bits.

He’s nice.

But there’s no spark.

You can sense it in his posture, too. His eyes are kind, but there’s pain behind them. He asks questions, but there’s an uncertainty lingering under the surface. He laughs at your jokes but subtly deflates each time like he’s guilty of something.

By the time your meals arrive, you’re ready to chalk it up as a loss.

“Jin,” you begin, tone aiming for the gentleness of “it’s not you, it’s me” proportions. “You seem like a wonderful guy, but for the sake of honesty, it doesn’t feel like either of us sees this going further, does it?”

Jin’s shoulders sag, the mask of obligatory cheerfulness falling away in defeat. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be!” you say quickly, not wanting him to feel bad when he was clearly trying his best to have a good time with you. “I think we both knew going into this that we were each coming to the table with…baggage.”

Jin nods, his eyes now tinged red as he murmurs, “It’s been tough.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Ah.” He smiles sadly. “We’ve only just met, and you’re clearly a very sweet woman. I’d feel bad dumping it all out on you when I’ve already wasted your time.”

“Maybe it would be good for both of us?” you suggest. “Obviously we’re both not feeling this from a date standpoint, but maybe what we need is just a friend who understands.”

A slow tip of his chin downwards as he considers. “I think I can do that.”

“And you’re not wasting my time, for the record. I just appreciate the company.”

Jin visibly relaxes at that, his posture easing with the pressure of the date now gone.

“So Namjoon told me you also just got out of a long-term relationship?” you ask, poking at your ravioli.

His chin dips in acknowledgment, voice rough as he states, “Aera.”

“How long were the two of you together?”

“Since high school.” He twists the fabric of his napkin in his hands. “She was my first…everything. Truly. I’ve never loved anyone or anything like her.” A stray thread absentmindedly twines around his finger, the blood darkening under the skin. “We made it all the way through college and my physical therapy schooling doing long distance. Spent the past couple years finally living together. We were happy.” The thread snaps, and he shakes his head. “At least I thought we were.”

You’d swear you can feel your heart literally ache with how forlorn he looks across the table as you gently ask, “I’m guessing she left?”

“I proposed, and she said no.” A strand of dark hair falls in front of his eyes, and he rakes a hand across his head one, two, three times in frustration. “She told me she thinks she’s missing out. That she already lost most of her youth to me, waiting to finish school, when she could’ve been enjoying herself and seeing what else is out there.” He slumps forward, leaning his forearms on the table and lacing his fingers together. “But I can’t understand. I spent just as much time with her, and I never doubted it. To me, she was always the one.”

A quiet settles at the table, the conversational white noise of your fellow diners taking over for the moment as you soak in the sudden sense of kinship with the man in front of you—both blindsided by the partners you thought you’d spend the rest of your lives with.

“I get it,” you tell him, feeling the need to give something in return after he opened his heart to a stranger. “My ex—I thought we were about to get engaged too. I was making all of these plans in my head only to find out that we definitely weren’t on the same page.”

Gentle eyes appraise your face. “He broke up with you?”

“He cheated.”

The words taste bitter as they drop from your lips.

“I’m so sorry,” Jin says, and you can tell by his tone and the look on his face that he genuinely means it.

You chew the inside of your cheek until a canine catches the soft corner of your lip and you taste blood. “I found a ring in his desk and then found him in bed with someone else two weeks later.”

“Wow, Y/N.” He bends in as if he’s going to take your hand before seeming to think better of it and sighing. “I can’t even imagine if I had…” A shake of his head like he’s trying to clear an intrusive thought. “Puts my situation into perspective. I feel awful even comparing the two.”

“Oh, please don’t,” you quickly say. “Your hurt is just as valid as mine. But I can tell that you’re a really great guy, Jin. And if Aera can’t see it, I’m sure there’s someone out there who will cherish that.” You smile to yourself, remembering a night not too long ago with tanned skin and old photographs. “That’s the advice Taehyung gave me, at least.”

“Taehyung?”

“Oh, sorry, he’s my best friend.”

There’s an agreeable hiss as Jin sucks his teeth with a nod. “Well, he sounds like a smart man.”

“He’s my favorite person in the whole world.”

“He must be pretty great, then.”

You can’t help but to nod your head eagerly, words rushing out of you. “He cares so deeply. And he’s so, so talented, but he has a tendency to underestimate himself sometimes,” you gush. “But he’s incredible at everything he does. And just…so resilient. I’ve seen him go through things that no person should ever have to endure, and he’s never let it make him resentful. He could be having the worst day of his life, and he’d still give you the shirt off his back. I admire him more than anyone I’ve ever met.”

“You’ve known each other a while then?”

“Since we were kids,” you explain. “It was lonely growing up in my house—my parents weren’t around a lot—so we’d hang out every day. He always knew how to cheer me up, how to make me smile, even by simply being there. Some days, we’d literally sit in my room doing homework silently for hours, and it just felt nice to share space with somebody else. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I didn’t have him.”

Jin watches you closely. It reminds you of Namjoon’s typical evaluative expression, and you can instantly understand why they’re friends. Heat rises to your cheeks as you realize you’ve been jabbering on, though Jin doesn’t look too bothered, asking, “And the two of you have never…?”

You sheepishly poke at your food again, red as a tomato now based on how hot your cheeks feel. “No, he doesn’t feel that way about me.”

“But you feel that way about him?”

Something strange churns low in your belly. You’re not sure why your usual denials catch on the back of your throat, but they stick there, holding your tongue hostage. It should come easily, the words, “No, just friends” a habit by now.

Why do they suddenly feel like a lie?

Thankfully, you’re saved as your phone flashes in the low light of the restaurant with an incoming call, Jimin’s face appearing on the screen.

You furrow your eyebrows at the smiling photo, Jin still watching you curiously. Jimin knows you’re on a date right now, and he’s supposed to be out clubbing with Taehyung, Maya, and Jungkook. Why would he be calling you? Could it be a case of butt dialing? Then again, maybe he’s just drunk.

Or maybe something is wrong.

Your anxiety wins out, and you make a quick apology to Jin, who kindly waves you off, before swiping to accept the call.

“What’s up? I’m on a date.”

“I know, Y/N, and I’m so sorry, but I think we need you at the apartment. Something’s happened.” Jimin’s voice is frazzled on the other end of the line, the discomfort in your stomach slipping straight to full-on nausea as your fingers tighten around the phone, skin stretching taut around your knuckles when he speaks again.

“It’s Tae.”

The club is loud, music pounding an earthquake into the walls and floors as a tangle of sweaty bodies surges around the dance floor. Jimin thinks to himself that maybe, just maybe, he's starting to get a little too old for this when the image of the writhing mob does more to set off feelings of claustrophobia than set him at ease. Still, once he and the others have made camp at a more secluded table in the back of the room, drinks in hand, he's still appreciative of the time out with his friends—even with Jungkook immediately scurrying off with a glint in his eye, target already in his sights.

"Ugh, look at him," Maya sneers, watching him chat up a blonde woman at the bar. "Shameless. Absolutely shameless."

Jimin can't resist a smirk. "Careful there, Maya, you sound jealous."

"Oh, fuck no!" she shrieks, punctuating this with a sip of her drink. "On the contrary, I hope this works out for him, and they get married and have a million babies and move far, far away. Get him out of my hair."

Both Jimin and Taehyung chuckle at that. "You do know you have the option of not sleeping with him, right?" Jimin asks.

"I take what I can get, and he's good at his craft. I'll give him that." Jimin chokes on his drink, while Taehyung only smiles, amused. "Speaking of getting, anyone catching the eye of either of you gentlemen? I'm happy to take on wing-woman duties tonight."

"No," Taehyung says, shaking his head. "I'm just here to make sure none of you do something stupid."

Maya rolls her eyes. "Translation: the love of my life is out on a date, and I'm trying not to think about it. How about you, Chim?"

"I don't know." Jimin shrugs. "Let me get a couple drinks in me and then see how I feel."

"Suit yourselves. But just remember that I offered when I ask one of you two to help a girl out." She tosses her hair over her shoulder. "Especially you, Tae. I know your heart is taken with your endless 'will-they-won't-they' thing with Y/N, but you could always sell the fake ex play better than Jimin here…Tae?"

But Taehyung is no longer paying attention, eyes now intensely locked on the crowd like a hawk zeroing in on prey. Maya follows his line of sight to a couple grinding on the edge of the dance floor, a dark-haired woman and a man with a distinct, bright green jacket—

"Oh my God, is that Jace?!"

Jimin's head snaps around, and even from a distance, there's no denying it. Jace tosses his head back, laughing at something the woman says, before he presses into her further, leaning back down to whisper something in her ear. Jimin quickly turns towards Taehyung, who sits terrifyingly still, eyes still zoned in on Jace and his date.

"Tae, I know you're angry. We all are," he begins, gripping Taehyung's forearm in an attempt to grab his attention. "But you cannot confront him. Not here, not now. Y/N is doing great—she's finally starting to move on. Don't undo that by poking the bear."

"He's right," Maya says, leaning in. "You're not going to accomplish anything here. It's loud, there's too many people—he'll just brush you off. And I know you care about her, Tae, but really? Not your battle to fight. Let it go."

Taehyung continues to sit in silence until Jace and the woman disappear into the crowd, and it's like a spell is suddenly lifted as he blinks rapidly at his friends. "No, you're right." He rubs a finger at the space between his eyes. "Y/N is a grown woman. She doesn't need me to protect her."

"See? A man of sense," Maya lilts. "Not like Mr. Don Juan over here about to stick his tongue into yet another college girl who thinks his immature ass counts as an ‘older man’." She nods her head towards the bar where the blonde woman has positioned herself closer to Jungkook, his hands now encircling her waist.

Taehyung quirks an eyebrow, teasing, "You’re not in college though."

Maya's jaw drops, and she puts a hand to her heart in feigned offense. "Wow! Someone's feisty tonight."

"Don't underestimate Tae when he's in one of his moods," Jimin laughs. "And don't overestimate Kook. I bet you twenty bucks he doesn't take her home."

"I'll take that action. He's got her wrapped around him already. Easy money." They shake on it, and the conversation devolves into trying to find someone in the crowd for Maya to shoot her shot with. However, in spite of her previous claim that she "takes what she can get," she finds an excuse to brush off every potential candidate ("Too short…too tall…too rich-looking?").

(Jimin suspects it may have something to do with the man who is now kissing the blonde at the bar.)

An hour later, and they're still parked at the table and on their third round of drinks. Jace has not resurfaced since they first spotted him, much to Jimin's relief, and he hopes he snuck out to a different club somewhere across town or maybe even a different country. Taehyung sports an easy smile now, alcohol loosening up his body as he laughs at a story Maya is telling about two guys who once had a fist-fight over her in this very club during college. Still, Jimin keeps an eye on their surroundings, likewise wary about what might happen if Jace spots them.

"And thankfully, the cops didn't wind up getting called, but oh God, can you imagine?" Maya howls, her and Taehyung in near-hysterics as she finishes up her story.

"Geez," Taehyung gasps, wiping at his eyes. "You're gonna make me piss my pants. I need the bathroom."

He stands from the table and wanders off in the direction of the restrooms, Maya staring at his back the whole way.

"We need to get that guy laid," she dramatically sighs.

"While he's still in crisis mode over Y/N’s breakup?" Jimin scoffs. "Good luck with that one."

"I don't get those two—I really don't." Maya rattles her perfectly-manicured nails against the table. "She's single for the first time in four years. He's been helplessly in love with her for so much longer. I don't know what he's waiting for."

"I mean it's only been what, a month?" Jimin muses. "He probably feels like it's too soon to make a move. Which is fair."

"Jimin. You're a man. You have eyes. Not only is Y/N pretty, but she has that whole—" She waves a hand in front of her face. "—'take me home to meet your parents’ energy to her. She won't be on the market for long, and you know it. She's already got this date with this Seokjin guy—and Tae told her to do it! It's like he's trying to sabotage himself! And then you have Y/N being smitten with him as always, too. I mentioned helping Tae find a hook-up earlier, and she looked like she was going to hurl."

He shrugs, tapping the side of his glass in thought. “I think they’re just scared. Imagine knowing someone for as long as they have and having to take that leap and risk losing it all.”

“You are out of your mind if you think either of them would reject each other,” Maya snorts.

“You don’t think Y/N might not want to take the chance that they fall apart? Especially after what she’s going through?”

“Tae wouldn’t do that to her,” she frigidly says, as if to challenge the very audacity of the thought.

“I’m not saying he would; I’m just saying she might be guarded.”

“So the solution is for him to help set her up with other guys at his own expense? That’s not fair to him either.”

He tilts his head in subtle agreement but adds, "Look, I want to see the two of them together as much as the next person. But maybe we need to just…let them come to it on their own? I mean, we've tried nudging them in the past, and it clearly hasn't worked. But I have faith they'll get there. Tae can be an idiot, but not that much of an id—"

His thought is cut off by screams and the sound of a commotion out on the dance floor. Hairs standing up on the back of his neck, Jimin bolts from his chair and darts into the crowd, Maya close on his heels. They shove their way through the surge of bodies—pressing back and away from the source of the disturbance—until they reach the spot where a small space has cleared out, and Jimin hears Maya swear loudly behind him.

Taehyung is knelt over Jace on the floor, his fists connecting with the latter's face and head over and over in a frenzy. Jace lies there, face bloodied and clearly dazed, his hands weakly raised in front of him in a futile attempt to shield himself from the blows, but Taehyung is relentless. His arm swings down on a repeated loop as if powered by a motor, and even though the music continues to pound above them, Jimin would swear he can hear the sound of knuckles cracking against flesh and bone. He rushes forward with Maya, both of them grabbing ahold of Taehyung's shoulders to pull him back, but he struggles against them, still trying desperately to connect his punches.

Jungkook suddenly materializes out of nowhere, a halfway-finished beer in his hand that he promptly empties over Jace’s head before grabbing Taehyung around the waist and dragging him back through the crowd. The three of them are able to muscle Taehyung towards the door, Jungkook breaking off to intercept the two bouncers who are stalking their way over as Jimin shoves Taehyung out onto the sidewalk.

"What the fuck, man!"

Taehyung's eyes are wild, his gray hoodie dotted with blood. "I wasn't finished," he says, deep voice chillingly calm.

"Are you out of your mind?!" Maya screams. "Are you trying to get yourself arrested?! Over that piece of shit?!”

“You said you were going to the fucking bathroom,” Jimin angrily adds. “How the hell did you wind up in a fistfight?!”

“I saw him. I hit him. I’m going to do it again,” Taehyung bluntly states. “Let me back in there.”

“The hell we are!” Maya exclaims, and Taehyung may have a few good inches on her, but she steps toe-to-toe with him to block his way. “He's not worth it, Tae, he's not!"

"She is!" Taehyung snaps, and Jimin notices his hands start to shake as the adrenaline begins to wear off. "She…you guys saw her that night. You saw her. In all this time, I have never seen her that broken. Never." His voice cracks, and a sheen appears behind his eyes, tears threatening to spill. "So get out of my way because I am going to make that motherfucker feel every tear I've had to wipe from her face because of him!"

"You're not." The door of the club swings shut as Jungkook joins them outside. "We're leaving now."

Taehyung takes a step forward, pleading, "Jungkook, I—"

"No, Tae, you're done." Jungkook moves to grab his arm, but Taehyung recognizes defeat and shakes him off, pulling his hood over his head and tramping off in the direction of their apartment. The others follow behind, close enough to keep a watchful eye out but with enough distance to give him space to cool down.

"How did it go inside?" Jimin asks quietly.

Jungkook pushes a hand through his hair. “We lucked out. I've worked with those guys before, and we're friendly. Gave them a quick rundown of the situation, and they're going to try and contain it, but…you know…" He shrugs. "That was technically assault."

"What that was was idiotic," Maya hisses.

"It was awesome."

"Kook!"

"What?! It was. Would've thought about taking care of it myself if Tae hadn't beaten me to it. Guy deserved it."

"At the cost of possible jail?" Jimin chimes in. "We all hate the guy, but I don't think it's doing Y/N a favor if she has to bail us out of—" He slaps a hand to his forehead. "Oh, fuck, Y/N."

The other two look at him in question, and he hesitates. "Do we…do we tell her?" he asks slowly. "She's on that date. What if it's going well?"

The three of them fall into silence, looking uneasily at Taehyung's back. He walks with his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched and heels digging into the sidewalk. Jimin watches as he takes a kick at an empty can, sending it flying into the gutter.

"It's Tae," Maya murmurs suddenly from his left. "She'd want to know."

"Shit, yeah." Jimin presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to rub away the headache that is quickly developing. "I'll call her—see if she can meet us back at the apartment."

"I'm going to call Hobi too," Jungkook says, phone already out. "I've punched someone before and can guarantee—his hand is fucked up."

Jimin nods, slowing his steps so he can fall behind the others for a bit of privacy. He doesn't know how the night spiraled so out of control, but he can't shake the existential feeling that something in the cosmos has changed.

Sliding his phone out of his pocket, he takes a deep breath of the night air and dials your number.

Your hands shake as you fumble with your keys outside the guys' apartment, struggling to grasp the spare that Taehyung lent you when you decided to stay with them. Jimin had said to take your time if you had to, but the thought of something being wrong with Taehyung had you in a panic. He hadn’t given you any details either, saying that they’d explain it all once you were there.

Jin had hurried you out at the distressed look on your face after you hung up, telling you that he’d take care of dinner and to go take care of your friend (you’ll later try to have Namjoon pass along some money for your meal that Jin will steadfastly refuse). Not wanting to stand and wait for an Uber, you had half-run the twelve blocks from the restaurant instead.

Out of breath, you gasp out a, "What happened?!" when Jungkook opens the door at the sound of your scrambling, not even giving him a chance to answer before you're pushing past him inside.

Taehyung sits on the edge of the couch with Hoseok kneeling in front of him, first aid kit at his feet. From here, you can see that his right hand is littered with cuts, purple bruises already forming across his swollen knuckles even as Hoseok tends to the wounds. Taehyung doesn't look up when you walk in, his eyes hooded and fixed on his hand.

"What the fuck happened?!" You repeat, but the room is quiet for a moment more as Jungkook, Jimin, and Maya all look at each other as if they don't know what to say.

Jimin breaks first. "We, ah…" he begins from his armchair seat. "We ran into your ex."

Your heart drops into your stomach, and you immediately feel dizzy. Images of Jace flood your mind: his smile, his hands, his voice—him tangled up in your bed when you got back from the beach house.

"He was at the club," Jimin continues. "And Tae…he, um—"

"He kicked his ass!" Jungkook chirps, an unmistakable hint of delight in his voice.

A tornado of feelings rips through your insides, a blend of confusion and anxiety that has you momentarily reeling. You'd be lying if you said you didn't have any residual feelings for Jace, the tiniest part of your brain in a worry over the state he might be in right now. But it all melts away when you look down at the man who still won't meet your eyes, his purpling hand making your heart twist even harder.

"Are you okay?" you ask softly, and Taehyung finally lifts his head to look at you. His gaze is stoic, but there's a haze of emotion behind his eyes that you can't place.

"I'm fine," he says, but his voice is tight and gravelly.

Hoseok tuts, dabbing a spot of ointment across Taehyung's knuckles. "Let's hope you stay that way. I don't think you'll need any stitches, and nothing seems to be broken, but we'll have to keep an eye on this to make sure nothing gets infected." He pulls bandages out of the first aid kit and begins wrapping Taehyung's hand.

You're afraid to ask this next question, but the words fall out anyway. "Did the police come?"

Jimin shakes his head. "We got out of there quick, and Kook talked to the bouncers that were friends of his—" Jungkook gives a two-finger salute from his perch by the kitchen. "—they said they'd try to take care of it, but who knows." He pauses before asking, "Do you think Jace would press charges?"

"I don't know," you answer honestly. You've known Jace to be proud, but you're not sure if that means he'll brush this off as a simple scrap or want to save face in some way.

"If he does, I know a lawyer who might be able to help," Maya pipes up at the opposite end of the couch. "He's a…friend. Owes me a favor."

"A lawyer friend?" Jungkook asks, eyes narrowing. "Do we know him? What's his name?"

"Last name: Out. First name: Butt."

Jungkook scoffs at that, but you also hear him mutter under his breath, "He sounds like a butt."

"Well as much as I would like to stay and chat about fights and butts," Hoseok says, bandaging the last of Tae's hand and closing his kit, "Sunny and I have a meeting with the wedding coordinator in the morning so I’ve gotta go. Keep that clean, and text me immediately if anything looks or feels wrong or if the swelling doesn’t go down. I can swing by in a couple days to look at it again."

Taehyung nods silently, and Hoseok heads for the door, waving as Jungkook shouts, "Thanks, doc!"

An awkward silence sweeps the room as the door swings shut, the only sound being that of Jimin anxiously tapping his heels against the floor. Maya reads the room, looking around at each person and eventually settling on you and Taehyung. Your posture is tense as you stiffly hover by the side of the couch, shifting your feet, while Taehyung is back to avoiding eye contact.

"I think I'm going to head out too," she says, standing up and shooting Jimin a pointed look.

"Do you need a ride home?" Jungkook asks. His tone says that he's trying to be nonchalant, but his eyes betray his eagerness.

"I'm a big girl, Kook," Maya drawls. "I can get myself home."

"Would you let lawyer friend drive you home?"

She rolls her eyes dramatically, her whole head tilting back in exasperation. "Oh my God, you're insufferable. Fine."

Jungkook moves for his keys, a certain spring in his step, while Maya addresses the rest of you. "I'll stop by tomorrow. Please, please try to stay out of trouble until then. Looking at you, Tae." And then she and Jungkook exit the apartment, Maya slipping money into Jimin’s hand as she goes.

Jimin lets out a heavy sigh. "Well he's not coming home tonight." He stands and stretches his arms above his head. "I'm gonna turn in. Let me know if either of you needs something, yeah?" He shuffles away to his bedroom, leaving you and Taehyung alone.

Taehyung continues to sit still as a statue, staring at the wall, and so you take a careful seat next to him, slowly so as to not jostle the cushions too much. When he keeps his eyes straight ahead, you gently take his injured hand between both of yours. His body visibly softens as you graze your fingers back and forth across his palm.

"Tae…"

He looks at you then, and you take the time to examine his face. There's no guilt or shame in his expression, but you see a pain there that has you reaching up to rub at the creases between his eyes.

His eyelids droop down at your touch. “I’m sorry about your date.”

“It’s fine,” you say. “It wasn’t going that well anyway.”

You see a muscle jump in his jaw, concern tightening the corners of his mouth. “Did he do something?”

“Easy.” You resume your tracing of his palm. “He was very kind and respectful, and we had an oddly sweet conversation. Just realized that neither of us is in the proper mindset for it to be anything more than maybe a friendship.”

A hum comes from deep in his throat. “Alright.”

“Certainly no need for you to fight any other men on my behalf,” you say, and he shoots you an uneasy look before staring down your reflections in the dark of the TV screen.

You take it in with him, observing the shadowy duplicates who feel like they’re sitting across from you. The linked arms, the soothing press of your knee to his—your current situation may feel anxiety-inducing, but the figures mirrored in the screen look comfortable. Unified.

"Are you mad?" he whispers after a moment.

The question catches you off guard. "Why would I be?"

"I know you still care about him." Taehyung swallows, glancing down at your intertwined hands. "You wouldn't still be this upset over him if you didn't."

You let his words sink in, not altogether untrue but certainly not at the forefront of your mind right now. "I'm not worried about him—I'm worried about you." Taehyung's eyes flash at that with something akin to confusion, and you chew at your lower lip. "I've never seen you like this."

It's true. Taehyung, in spite of his mild nature, has always had a protective streak in him. One time, when the two of you were twelve, a few boys in your class had spent a week bullying you about your clothes—calling you a “spoiled, pretentious bitch”—only to come back from gym class one day to find their shirts in the garbage, cut to bits. But never—in all of your years together—have you ever known him to get violent.

"I tried to let it go. I did," Taehyung insists. He picks at his bandages, and you cover his hand with your own to still him. "I just…" His voice cracks, eyes suddenly glassy. "I couldn't stop seeing you on the bathroom floor that night."

The tears spill over, and you pull him into you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he gasps into your shoulder. He's trying to force the emotion down—you can feel it in the way his body trembles—and so you tangle your fingers in the spot where his hairline meets the back of his neck. You know it's always been a soothing spot for him, and his breathing slowly evens out as you coast your fingers back and forth, a rogue piece of your brain taking pleasure in the feel of his soft hair under your hands.

"Tae," you whisper again once he's calmed, and he pulls back to look at you, face entirely too close. Your heart stutters at the sheer amount of raw affection in his expression, and the words you were about to say catch in your throat along with your breath. Since when does being around him make you so nervous?

"I'm sorry," Taehyung murmurs, entirely oblivious to your current internal struggle. "I know this isn't about me—"

"No," you quickly say, snapping out of your inner turmoil. "Tae, you're allowed to have feelings, you know?" Your fingers absentmindedly run along his neck again. "And like you told me that night, I will be fine. I will be. It just…takes a bit of time. And I appreciate everything you've done to try and help get me there."

You try to convey just how much you mean this in your tone, lacing your words with every bit of gratitude you've built up over the past month (over the past years). Taehyung seems to understand, his thumb coming up to gently brush against your chin.

A glimpse of white bandages turns you sullen, raising your hands to delicately graze against their soft edges and chart the way they wrap around his knuckles. He winces as you touch them, and frustration crests like a wave in your chest; you hate that he’s hurting, hate that your own troubles are the cause of it.

“You didn’t have to do this for me,” you sigh, dripping with guilt.

“I’d do anything for you.”

His words are firm, and he cants forward as he says them until his forehead rests against yours, a single shared breath haunting the space between your lips.

"I just don't ever want to see you like that again," he whispers.

And it's all too much: your pulse spikes, the blood pounding through your veins at his nearness and the honey-sweet words rolling off his tongue. This time, you're the one who can't look him in the eye as you put some distance between your bodies, abruptly shifting away from him on the couch.

"You won't."

The tension settles in thick, and Taehyung gazes at you, undoubtedly perplexed by your sudden withdrawal. Just as he opens his mouth to say something, you nod at his hand. "You had an eventful day. I'm fine out here if you want to sleep?"

He slowly shakes his head. "No, uh…I don't think I'll be able to sleep. Might just stay up and watch some TV. You can take my bed, though, if you're tired."

The charged atmosphere still has you slightly shaken—your scrambled brain trying to make sense of the tingling in your stomach—but concern for Taehyung ultimately wins out, and you tell him that you'll stay up to keep him company. He doesn't argue with that, simply flips on your favorite cooking channel and drags your legs into his lap as you stretch out.

It's how Jungkook finds you as he slinks back in the next morning, smiling to himself as he drapes a blanket over your sleeping forms.

July is beginning its descent into August, stifling clouds of heat stuffing themselves into roads and alleyways, when your sign to move back into your own apartment comes in the form of Jeon Jungkook almost getting a full look at your bare ass one Saturday morning.

He immediately flips his back to you, frantically covering his face with his arms and bellowing, "I'M NOT LOOKING!" at the top of his lungs.

"Jeon, you'd better keep your eyes covered or I swear to God I'll put your nuts in a vise!"

"Is that like a kink thi—"

"Do NOT." You rush to dress yourself, giving him the signal when it's safe to turn around.

He doesn't look the least bit ashamed, the bastard.

"Not that it's necessarily unwelcome, but why were you almost naked in my living room?"

You glare at him. "Jimin is taking one of his long ass showers."

"And Tae's at work. Just use his room."

You'd thought about it, but the idea of getting naked in your best friend's bedroom had made you blush, like you'd be crossing some sort of line.

"I thought I could change fast enough," you say, not wanting to have to explain your reasoning to Jungkook of all people.

"Well you obviously thought wrong." He smirks, and you already know what's coming. "Nice bra, by the way."

You pick up a throw pillow off the couch and fling it at him. You'd been shooting for his head, wanting to smack the smug grin right off his face, but your aim is about two feet off and he catches it effortlessly anyway.

What an ass.

“No wonder Maya is always pissed at you,” you jab. “Constantly flirting with other girls.”

His demeanor shifts ever so slightly—his shoulders lower, and you can tell by the way his cockiness subtly but immediately deflates that you’ve wounded him. A pang of regret for your words hits at the sight of wide doe eyes.

“She talks about me to you?”

You wouldn’t have believed it to be possible, but you don’t think that you’ve ever seen him look so innocent, tentative hopefulness coloring his face.

“Not, like, regularly, but sometimes, sure,” you say, not quite certain how to handle this new edition of Jungkook.

“What does she say?”

Wow, those big, round Bambi eyes are really doing work.

“Just that, you know.” You scratch at your ear, not wanting to accidentally throw Maya under any buses while also honoring your friendship with Jungkook. “You’re kind of annoying sometimes.”

That clearly doesn’t make him happy, his jaw tightening with discontent as he grimaces. “Right.”

“I mean think about it, Kook,” you say, compelled to defend Maya. “You hook up with her, and then flirt and pick up other girls right in front of her face.”

“We’re not exclusive!” he exclaims.

“Maybe she wants to be?”

“But that was her idea!”

That stops you. Not once since you found out the two of them were hooking up did it cross your mind that Jungkook would ever be the one unhappy with their arrangement. He’s never had a serious girlfriend in the entire time you’ve known him. Up until this moment, you were sure he’d be a perpetual bachelor. “What?”

“She wanted to be non-exclusive.”

“And you…don’t?”

He looks away from you, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t know.”

No. It can’t be.

“Wait a second.”

You move to stand in front of him, taking his face in your hands so you can turn him every which way, inspecting his face. Pink cheeks, a creased brow, jawline so hard you could probably cut yourself on it.

“You’re flustered!” you shriek. Jungkook quickly uncrosses his arms to bat your hands away, reeling back to put some distance between the two of you.

“I’m not!”

“You are!” you shout, following him as he roams around the room. “Jeon Jungkook is flustered!”

“Bah, you’re insane, woman.” He swings a dismissive hand even as the two of you settle in at the kitchen island.

“You’d be cute together!”

“She’s too stubborn.”

“I can totally see it!”

“It would never work.”

“You don’t know that!”

“Hey, worry about your own love life.”

He means it to be teasing, obviously not thinking too hard about his words because the second he realizes what he’s just said, he pales. “Y/N, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” you say, sobered. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Still—“

“You’re right. I’m avoiding things.” You peer over at the pull-out couch, still in bed-mode with your blankets and pillows messily strewn across it. Your suitcase, meanwhile, sits off to the side with the contents tangled and half-overflowing.

In short, you’re a mess.

The guys have never made you feel unwelcome, have only ever made it clear that you are free to stay as long as you’d like, but you’d be lying if you said you haven’t felt your time here beginning to weigh on your shoulders, knowing you’re only putting off the inevitable.

You feel like you’ve been (slowly, but surely) making emotional progress, but going back to the apartment might threaten to undo all of that. Although it may have felt like it at times growing up, you’ve technically never lived alone, and you’ve grown accustomed to having your people around. In fact, you thrive on it. Being around your friends is the only reason why you’ve been doing as well as you have.

You love having someone to come home to.

“I need to move back soon,” you tell Jungkook. “But returning to the apartment is actually terrifying.”

He considers you for a moment, leaning his weight back on the granite countertop. “Do you know what helps me when I’m not confident about something?”

“Getting a stranger to moan your name?”

“Well, yes, but aside from that.” You shrug, and he grins. “I just do it.”

“Wow, Jeon,” you say, with the appropriate amount of eye roll. “Reaching real deep on that one.”

“I mean it!” he urges. “Just need to rip off the band-aid. The longer you dwell on it, the harder it will be in the end.”

That’s…oddly decent advice.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you might have a point,” you say, somewhat thrown off by this flustered, good-advice-giving version of your friend.

“And speaking of things being harder, that last bit of advice also goes for forepl—“

“Aaaaaaand it’s ruined.”

“I’m just saying it has multiple applications!”

“Yeah, it’s time for me to move back out,” you say. “I can’t live with you anymore.”

Jungkook chuckles, rubbing at his jaw. “Tae is going to be devastated though.”

Your head jerks around. “What? Why?”

“Because he likes having you here,” he says, looking at you like you just asked him what color the sky is. “The guy punched out your ex for you. I think it’s safe to say he enjoys having you around.”

You wince at the mention of the club, a nerve jumping in your chest every time you’re reminded that Taehyung almost got arrested defending your honor. Nothing had ever come of the fight, so you’re assuming Jace has chosen to just let it go, and for that, you’re thankful. You never would have been able to live with it if Taehyung had suffered serious consequences over your own personal crisis.

You’d do the same thing for him, sure. But that’s different.

“Jimin and I will miss you too, of course,” Jungkook continues. “And I’m still kind of sad I didn’t get my own shot in on that asshole that night. Dumped a beer on him though.” He smiles at you like he’d be wagging his tail if he had one.

“My hero.”

“Yeah, the mayor said I’m getting a medal.”

“Oh, really? When’s the ceremony.”

“Sunday afternoon.”

You snap your fingers. “Ah, I can’t make it. I have a thing.”

“A thing?”

“Yeah, a super important thing. Way more important than your thing.”

“You’re a heart-breaker, Y/N. My ego will never recover.” He grins again, playfully rapping his fingers against the counter as he stands to grab a drink.

“Yep,” he says, voice muffled on the other side of the fridge door. “Definitely going to miss you around here.”

As Jungkook predicted, Taehyung frowns when he gets home from work and you tell him about your plans to move back into your apartment at the end of the week, perhaps sensing your apprehension about returning to the scene of the crime. He insists he’ll come with you and sleep over the first night for support and to make sure you’re okay being back there.

“Whatever you need,” he says. “You’re not going to face it alone.”

Your apartment is pitch black when you swing the door open, the quietness hovering in the air making you feel like you're suffocating. You flick on the light, and you're struck by how much emptier the space is. Jace definitely came by at some point as all of his things are no longer present: his gaming system, his turntable, the tiny rhino statue he had picked out on your last vacation together. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot a glint of a key on the kitchen counter.

Taehyung tries to give you space by busying himself—turning on lights and opening cabinets in a seeming attempt to take inventory of what Jace left behind. He steals glances at you every now and then as you slowly move through the living room, hands reaching out to lightly brush at the furniture with no real goal in mind. This is supposed to be your home, but you feel like a stranger—the ghosts of late nights binging TV shows, giggling wildly at inside jokes, promising forever lurk around every corner.

When you take a hesitant step inside the bedroom, your breath catches in your throat and you choke on a sob. The bedsheets are still in a tangle, a relic of that night seven weeks ago when your whole world fell apart.

Taehyung senses something is wrong and bolts to your side in an instant, hands steadying you where you slump against the doorframe. He turns you in his arms, and his fingers come up to cradle your face in his direction.

"Don't look at that, look at me," he murmurs, thumbs rubbing away the tears that have begun to fall. "What do you need?"

To run, to hide, to crawl into the deepest hole you can find and scream your lungs out until the pain subsides. But you can't. Instead you focus on the brown of Taehyung's eyes, let it ease you back down until your breathing steadies and your heart rate levels.

"A shower," you finally choke out. "I need a shower."

He takes a final swipe at your tear-stained cheeks and offers up a small smile. "Okay. Where are the towels?"

You nod in the direction of the closet as Taehyung ushers you out towards the bathroom. It feels empty in here too, the single toothbrush staring you down from its holder and counter notably absent of shaving cream and hair gel. You tear your eyes away from the vanity to start the water running, and Taehyung pops up a moment later with a towel in hand and a fresh pair of pajamas he must've found in your dresser.

"Take your time," he says. "And if you need anything, anything at all, just give a shout. I'll be right out here." His cheeks take on a hint of pink when you quirk an eyebrow at him. "I'll close my eyes. Promise."

You thank him as he steps out so you can strip and get into the tub. The water is set to a near-scalding temperature and you welcome the sting, scrubbing away at your skin as if trying to erase all of the memories that are once again flooding back.

Your first date at the art museum, where he pointed to a painting of an extravagant rose garden and said it reminded him of you.

Your first kiss under the stars, the two of you losing track of time as he pulled you in again and again.

Endless Saturdays wandering around the city, not caring where you wound up as long as his hand was in yours.

Planning your someday wedding, his whispered promises of, Soon, beautiful, soon, sealed with a signature wink.

Picking out names for children who would never be born.

The tears are pouring out of you now, but you let them. One cry, you promise yourself. One final, good cry to wash it all away, and then it'll be time to let go for good.

You don't know how long you spend in the shower, but by the time you step back out into the living room, Taehyung has already set himself up with a makeshift bed on the couch. He lifts his head when he sees you and, taking note of your red-rimmed eyes, gets up to pull you into a hug.

For a moment he just holds you, arms banding tight around your shoulders before he says, "I cleaned out your fridge. Most of it was spoiled." He hesitates, pulling back to look at you. "And I changed the bedsheets." A hand rubs at the back of his neck. "I actually ran downstairs and threw them straight in the dumpster, I hope that's okay."

His thoughtfulness overwhelms you, and you'd probably start crying again if not for the fact that you don't think you have a single tear left in your body. As you gape at him, Taehyung interprets your silence for disapproval and quickly adds, "I'll buy you new ones."

You respond by wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him back into you, sinking your face into the crook of his neck as you whisper a, "Thank you."

He seems to falter for a second before returning the hug, and as you give him one last squeeze he steps back, scrutinizing you more closely. "You look like you could use some sleep."

"Yeah," you admit, eyeing the cramped set-up on the couch. "Is that going to be okay for you though?"

"Absolutely," he chimes, bounding over to the couch to settle back in. He has to bend his long legs to fit, toes pressing into the fabric of the arm. "See? Comfy." When he catches the uneasy look on your face, he says, "Honestly. Y/N. Nowhere else I'd rather be."

You give him a hesitant nod—you know it'd be useless to try to convince him otherwise. "Okay. Goodnight."

"Goodnight!" He flips onto his back, popping an arm behind his head and closing his eyes.

You cross the room slowly and, just like last time, find yourself pausing at the threshold of your bedroom. The bed is no longer a mess, fresh sheets now stretched neatly across the mattress, but as you look at it, it strikes you that you have never slept here alone. And while you may have committed yourself to moving on from this moment forward, you know this has the power to break you. Tomorrow, maybe, but right now, you're nowhere near ready for this.

You look back and forth between your bed and where Taehyung is lying, his legs now half-draped over the couch's arm, and you make up your mind.

"Tae?"

"Hmm?" He opens his eyes and turns his head to look at you.

"Can you sleep in here with me?"

He blinks, jaw dropping in surprise. "Uhh…are you sure?"

His hesitancy has you losing some of your nerve, and you have to look away. "I just don't think I can…" You purse your lips and shake your head. "You don't have to. I just—"

"No, it's okay. We can—yeah," he blurts, already standing up.

He sidesteps you in the doorway, taking your hand and pulling you into the room after him with a soft smile. "C'mon. Like I said, whatever you need."

Taehyung pulls back the covers so the two of you can crawl in. It's awkward at first, both of your bodies lying stiff across from each other. Physical affection has never been altogether uncommon for the two of you, but this—lying in the bed you used to share with your ex—feels like crossing a line of intimacy that you've never experienced with him before.

But then Taehyung laughs, reaching over to take your hand in his. "I know we’re a long way from high school, but we can do this, yeah? Not like we haven’t shared a bed before."

It breaks the tension, and you giggle back, looking down at where he's laced your fingers together. His knuckles are still lightly bruised with touches of yellow and green, and you run your free hand over the marks, smile drooping.

"I'm really sorry about this," you murmur.

"I'm not." Taehyung's forehead creases. "I'd do it again."

"Please don't," you say quickly. "If you see him again, just let it go."

He frowns and opens his mouth to respond, but you cut in. "Not because I care about him. I just don't want you getting into any trouble on his account. He's not worth it."

Taehyung briefly clenches his jaw but eventually gives you a slow nod. "Well I think my point was made anyway."

"Thank you," you say, pulling his hand up to brush a light kiss to his bruises. "I know I keep saying that, but I really can't tell you enough."

"You don't need to thank me. I know you'd do the same." His face breaks out into one of his boxy smiles. "Remember when Luna broke up with me, and I barely left the apartment for two weeks? You stopped by every day to make sure I was still eating."

You hum at the memory. It had been two weeks of dropping off take-out and commandeering the boys' kitchen to make large batch meals, even harassing Jimin to give you regular updates on whether or not Taehyung had eaten lunch. Jace had given you grief about it at the time, whining that Taehyung was a grown man who could take care of himself, especially when the two of you had just moved in and were still working on unpacking.

“And my birthday junior year of high school.” He’s quiet as he remembers, eyes fixed on some spot over your shoulder as if he’s rewatching the moments on film. “You got me those shoes I’d been absolutely enamored with.”

His old ones had been falling apart entirely, soles curling away from the fabric like orange peels in the sun. Barely even looking away from the bottle at that point, there was virtually no chance that Taehyung’s father would give him enough money to buy him new ones at the thrift store, let alone the high-end sneakers you’d always catch him subtly staring at every time the two of you wandered around the mall after school.

So of course, you’d done the only logical thing and surprised him with them for his birthday, the look of complete elation on his face making your heart leap in ways you didn’t even know it could.

A touch of joy slips into his expression too now as he picks another recollection out of his brain. "Or that time in college when I got stuck in that bathroom across campus with no toilet paper and you left class to break into the men's room and bring me some."

You scrunch your nose at that, saying, "We swore never to talk about that again!"

Taehyung laughs. "I know, but what I'm trying to say is that that's what we do. We take care of each other."

The truth of the statement hits you like a truck as you're suddenly anchoring yourself in Taehyung's eyes again.

It's as though every moment of the last seventeen years comes rushing back to you all at once—every joy, every celebration, every tear, every heartbreak. And at your side in each memory are the same brown eyes you're staring into right now.

A feeling that you're too scared to place stirs in your chest and has you panicking, and you can see that Taehyung isn't unaffected by the moment either as his lips part and he studies you with a newfound softness. When he reaches up to brush your hair behind your ear, the feeling in your chest swells and snaps, and you bury your face in his chest, tears starting afresh, as he wraps his arms around you.

"I'm here," he whispers. "I'm right here."

You press your hands into his back, clinging to him, and hope the pressure conveys what your words can't—what you don't even have a name for yet.

Your sobs subside after a while, but you stay wrapped up in each other. Right before you fall asleep, one final flashback of Jace leaks into your mind—words he had spit at you before leaving this place that night.

I've never been your priority. No one can be. Not when he's around.

It's hard work dragging yourself awake the next morning, your eyelids heavy and begging you to close them for just five more minutes.

But you realize that the side of the bed next to you is not only empty—it's cold. Reaching out to your nightstand, you flip your phone over to check the time. 10:42. The morning is practically gone.

You pull yourself out of bed and shuffle into the living room where you spot a figure standing in the kitchen. Taehyung is busy at the stove, white t-shirt tight across his shoulders as he works, humming to himself, and you stop for a moment to take him in (was he always this broad?).

"Good mood today?" you say. He turns, flashing you a smile over his shoulder.

"Morning, sleepyhead!" He catches himself, realizing he might sound a little too chipper for the occasion and quietly asks, "How are you feeling?"

"Alright," you shrug, and it's the truth. The seemingly endless crying the night before had been exhausting, but it also provided you with something of a catharsis, leaving you feeling almost refreshed today.

"Good," Taehyung says. He nods to the plate on the counter next to him. "I made pancakes."

"The chocolate chip ones?"

He places a hand over his heart and looks at you in mock offense. “Of course. What do you take me for?”

You laugh and wander over to the dining room table where a bright bouquet of lilies now sits in a vase. Pinching one of the delicate, silky petals between your fingers, you ask, "What's this?"

Taehyung glances over his shoulder again, blushing slightly when he sees what you're looking at. "Oh, I um—" He fumbles for his words. "I ran out to get you some groceries and saw the florist next door. Figured they could, you know, brighten things up in here a little."

"You didn't have to do that," you tell him softly, but he brushes you off with a shrug.

"I wanted to."

You reach for the petals again, the bright orange seeming to cast a glow on your skin like a sunset. “You know these look like—“

“The ones you used to collect on our walks growing up?” He chuckles at your stunned silence. “Yeah, I know.”

It still surprises you sometimes—the depth of his thoughtfulness and how well he knows you—and before you can stop yourself, you’re stepping up behind him at the stove. You wind your arms around his middle, pressing your forehead to the space between his shoulder blades and allowing your breath to warm the cotton of his t-shirt. It’s soft—intimate—and you feel Taehyung tighten up under your touch, his entire body going rigid.

“Y/N—“

“You know you mean the world to me, right?”

It’s a near-whisper—you sound like you’re on the brink of tears—and maybe that’s why Taehyung’s hard lines soften at the sound of your voice, turning in your arms so he can reciprocate the embrace and press a cheek to your temple. He doesn’t say a word, just holds you tight as you lean your face into his chest and inhale the comforting scent of pancake batter, laundry detergent, and honey-scented soap.

You think you could stay here forever.

Last night’s mood seems to linger in the air like little beams of light that warm your skin in the best way. You recall falling asleep in these same arms, this same scent wrapped around you—how it was easily the best sleep you’ve had in weeks.

It's different, this space between you now. Has been since the night in the bathroom. You and Taehyung may have gone through a metric fuck ton of pain over the course of your lives, but there's no denying that this breakup is pushing your friendship into a new form, molding it into a new shape.

You're too nervous to dwell on it, but damn, if you aren't going to take advantage of how good it feels to cling to him right now. You want to wrap yourself around him like a koala—draw your legs around his waist and bury your nose into the hollow space at his collarbone.

What a great way to scare him off too, your brain says, even as your heart argues, He's stuck with you through worse.

You're tempted—seriously considering dragging him over to the couch so you can snuggle him properly—when the fire alarm goes off, the pancake on the stove burnt and blackened.

Taehyung releases you in a flash, spinning to shut off the burner and pull the pan off the stove as you rush to the hallway closet for a broom. You swing it underneath the alarm until the smoke clears, and the device stops its blaring shrieks. As silence filters back in, Taehyung tips the burnt pancake into the trash, the previous moment ruined.

"That'd be our luck to burn this place down your first day back," he jokes.

You tip your head up, already thinking this may have been a bad idea and wishing you were back at the guys' place. "Maybe not the worst thing in the world."

He approaches you slowly but deliberately, raising a long finger to press at your chin until you've lowered your gaze enough to look him in the eyes. Taking your hands in his—gently, so gently—he says, "We're going to breathe life back into this place. I'll be here every day if you want me to be."

"You d—"

"I will. Or Maya or Jimin or Kook." He moves his head so you're forced to look at him even as you try to look away, confronted with the raw sincerity in his eyes. "We'll drown out the bad memories with new good ones."

His voice is CPR, pressing warmth into your chest, and just like that, the suffocating walls around you open up a bit. You can see it, the two of you sitting on the couch watching TV—or maybe you watching him play one of his games—your other friends occasionally dipping in and out as they please.

More orange lilies on the table.

You pull your hands from his and drift to the kitchen counter, picking up the glinting silver key sitting on its surface. Turning back to Taehyung, you press it into his palm, and he stares at you, eyes wide with wonder.

"You're sure?"

You nod, and he curls his fingers around the key like it's something delicate—handling it with the same care you once saw him give a baby bird that had fallen out of its nest in the park when you were thirteen.

"Every day," he promises, pinky wrapping around yours and squeezing. "Just say the word."

a/n: likes, reblogs, and feedback are always appreciated! <3

taglist is open!

#taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagines #taehyung imagines #taehyung fic #taehyung fanfic #bts fluff #bts angst #taehyung #bts fic #bts fanfic

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