#we will revisit this topic once i have been caught up!

[starcrossedxwriter]

Built for Love Part 12 (MBJ x Famous Black OC)

A/N: Our favs are back!! And trying to recover from everything. Enjoy!!

***

“You know you don’t gotta hide looking at it, right?” Michael leaned over to mutter in her ear as he rounded their island to the sink. 

Charlotte’s gaze fell to the side as she bowed her head in slight embarrassment at being caught examining the perfect rock on her finger. 

It had been days since the proposal and she was still unaccustomed to it, the weight of it on her finger and the weight of what it meant to them both. She had spent countless nights fantasizing of what a life with Michael could be and now her fantasies were coming true. She constantly found her eyes drawn to it throughout the day as she questioned whether the proposal was really real or merely a dream. 

They had not told a soul about their engagement yet, not even their families. While they wanted to share the exciting news with everyone, they felt this was not something they wanted to share over the phone. And they planned to go home to LA at the end of the month for Easter weekend as Charlotte had some time off. They also knew once they told their families, there was no guarantee they would be able to keep it secret for long. And they were not ready to tell the world just yet. Charlotte was still healing and reeling from Shaun’s attack and not used to being the center of social media debates and conversation or a hot topic on talk shows. And they knew their engagement would only draw more attention to her and them that they did not want just yet. 

Tomorrow would be her first day back at work, and really her first time leaving their house for more than a walk around their neighborhood. Throughout the entire day, Michael would have been lying if he said a significant part of him had not hoped she would wake up and realize she needed more time to recover. And while skillful makeup and the facade of a performer would earn her praise on social media and in the media for returning to normal so quickly, in private things were still far from normal. 

“Sorry,” she laughed. “I feel crazy but I can’t take my eyes off it, it’s fuckin’ gorgeous.” 

Michael’s face lit up at her praise. He had picked well. “I know, I’ve caught you staring at it nonstop for the last couple days.” 

“Well you did good.” She stood and kissed him on the cheek before walking over toward the couch to grab the remote. “Wanna watch another episode of Housewives before we head to bed? We’re so far behind on this season,” she grumbled to herself as she turned on their tv. 

“Sure but first, we need to talk.” 

Charlotte groaned, those were words no person in a relationship ever wanted to hear. And she knew exactly what he wanted to talk about. She and Michael rarely argued, she could count the number of them on one hand. However, she knew this one had been brewing slowly as her return to work drew closer. She was honestly surprised he let it go this long. Wishful thinking, she supposed, that he would not say anything at all. 

“If it’s about what I think it’s about, then we already talked about it days ago and came to an agreement, Bakari. Hence the very scary former special forces white man that’s gonna play my shadow for months,” she mumbled in annoyance. 

It was not that she did not understand the point of security, she did. But that did not stop her from resenting the fact that she needed it, this human barrier that sat her apart from the masses as if she were too important or too fragile. It felt unnecessary and ridiculous but acquiescing to this request was the only way Michael would agree to let go back to the theater so early. So her frustration seemed to double at the idea that he wanted to revisit this conversation after she already compromised.  

“Well, I’d like to reopen the discussion.” 

Charlotte rolled her eyes as she settled on the couch, her movements were still stiff, her body not fully healed but she felt well enough to perform. Unfortunately, her fiancée did not share her opinions on her healing process. 

“I’m fine and I’m going back to work tomorrow. I agreed to have security at your insistence. There’s really nothing to discuss.” 

“I disagree.” Michael’s arms were folded and his face stern as he perched on the arm of their sectional. “You’re still having nightmares and you’re still in pain. I mean can you even dance?” 

Truth be told, he was shocked he was even having to fight her on this. He just knew she would get to the weekend and see how little her healing had progressed and ask for more time off. That she had taken his concerns for her well being and safety seriously and was going to change how she pushed herself to the limit. However, instead he found that she was dead set on it, rehearsing and preparing for work as if nothing was wrong. But in his opinion, everything was wrong. 

While he would admit she was handling it better than he would have expected, she was still not ok. She was still in pain despite her attempts to hide it from him. She was far more jumpy than she ever was before. And aside from the night he proposed, she woke them both up with nightmares every single night. Some were marginally better than others but they were a reminder that while her physical injuries would heal in a linear fashion, her trauma would not. They were in for months of steps forward and steps backwards. And though he knew she could not realistically take months off, he wanted her to consider, at least, taking another week to get on stronger footing. 

The engagement helped them both, provided some light and hope at the end of the tunnel and they both clung to it for dear life in their own ways. But he knew that was a fleeting feeling, the happiness and joy of the engagement would not be enough to overshadow the trauma and pain she felt forever, no matter how much she focused on that. 

She sucked her teeth. “You know before you, I danced through a hell of a lot worse than a few bruises and a concussion. I’m fine.” 

“That ain’t the sellin’ point you think it is. Your body needs rest. The doctors said you’re lucky he didn’t damage your vocal chords from choking you, you don’t need to be singing for 2 hours a night. Also you don’t even know what effect going back there will have on you.”

Charlotte scoffed. “One, my voice is fine. I practiced last night.” Though she wasn’t going to admit that it was extremely hard and painful to sing. “I’ll be fine! He what? Scared me a couple of times there? It’s not like he attacked me in the theater. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?? You almost dying isn’t a big deal??” 

“You know what I mean! Look, I think I have a bit more experience dealing with PTSD than you do. I feel well enough to perform so I’m gonna. That’s that.”

“So I don’t even get a say? Get to give you my opinion at all?” 

Charlotte crossed her arms like a petulant child, her annoyance at having this discussion again shutting down any opportunity for her to hear his side or perspective. In her opinion, the time for his opinions had passed. “Well, it’s my career, not yours. It’s my body, not yours. I am the victim of a stalking, sociopath, not you. Why would you get a say in it? I know we’re engaged but that doesn’t mean I’m not my own person anymore.” 

“I know you’re your own person. But you also don’t get to make unilateral decisions, Charlotte! You making unilateral decisions is why we’re in this situation!” 

Charlotte scoffed. “And there it is… if you want me to take your opinion seriously, then admit what’s really going on here. This isn’t about me o-or my injuries or any stupid shit like that. You know I can perform just fine. You don’t trust me to take care of myself, you’re pissed that I took away your opportunity to save me and now you don't want me out of your sight.” 

“Well in my sight, he can’t fuckin’ try to kill you again.” 

She threw her hands up in the air. “Well, between the special forces nigga you forced me to hire and the venue security, I don’t see that happening! Also despite what you clearly think, I can take care of myself!” 

Michael’s eyes almost bugged out of his head. “You can take care of yourself? So that bruise on your side? On your face? Your concussion and stint in the hospital, were you just warming up during all those fights? Because I sure as fuck ain’t gonna forgot having to pull him off you while he tried to choke the life out of you any time soon! He’s out on bail and out in the world and I love you but no, you can’t defend yourself against him. You ain’t gonna act like I’m crazy for being worried.” 

“‘I can’t defend myself??’ So you think I’m weak?” For some reason, that struck a nerve so deep in her that she felt herself quickly transitioning from annoyance and frustration to full blown rage. 

“No that’s no-” 

“Well that’s exactly what you just said! I’m weak and defenseless and need you to take care of me. I mean, is that what you really think of me? Because if so, why would you even want to date, let alone marry, someone you think so little of?” 

“That’s not what I think!” He yelled, his frustration getting the better of him as he abruptly stood up from his seat and threw his hands in the air. He turned away from Charlotte to take a deep breath and collect his thoughts. 

However, when he turned around, he felt his heart break slightly as he took in her form. He would take a hundred versions of her yelling at him over the petrified woman who sat before him now. Her entire body trembled with fear as she avoided his eyes and moved herself to the edge of the couch as if she was ready to escape at a moment’s notice. Her ragged breathes filled their living room as she tried to calm down. 

Michael could not figure out what happened until he replayed the last 30 seconds in his own head, quickly realizing that she was fearful that he was going to strike her. 

And these were the moments that made all of this so hard for him. This was not the first time in their relationship that something triggered her, but her reactions were so visceral now that they knocked the wind out of him. He hated himself for letting his anger get the best of him to the point that he forgot to prioritize her healing and health. He never wanted her to think he would ever do something to hurt her, never wanted her to think he was like Shaun in the slightest. 

He desperately wanted to rush to her side and envelope her in a hug, assure her that he would never - no matter what - raise a hand to her. But he had enough experience with this to know that she had to choose to come to him, had to choose to trust that his touch was gentle and safe. That was not something he could force on her. So he steered himself to the cushion of the couch and sat down. 

“I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to scare you. You know I’d never hurt you. Just take a few deep breaths and when you’re ready to talk, let me know.” 

Charlotte just nodded as she buried her face in her hands for a few moments. She repeated the same mantra she did after nightmares and when she was feeling like there was no safety or security anywhere for her. Her therapist had told her to make a list of everything and everyone who made her feel safe and the very short list had Michael at the top. 

Michael is safe. Michael is home. Michael is safe. He doesn’t hurt you, he makes you feel protected and whole.

It was a small thing but it had become an anchor after nightmares or when memories flooded her mind. Michael was safe and he would never harm her. She would not claim to know everything but she certainly knew that. It took a few minutes as she repeated those words over and over under her breath, and her fingers twisted her engagement ring on her finger. Another coping mechanism she had turned to. That ring meant so much, representing the depths of his love for her. And that was another anchor to her reality, and a reminder that Shaun could invade her sleep and her mind but he could not take anything away from her if she did not let him. 

“I-I’m s-sorry,” she whispered. “I k-know you wouldn’t… I just…” she struggled to find the words to express the chaotic jumbled up mess that was her own mind. But now, she did not even care about the show anymore, part of her just wanted him to not be upset with her. “I d-don’t want you to be mad. I-If you want me to stay, I’ll stay. Ok? I’ll call Chris and I’ll stay.”

Michael immediately shook his head and moved to sit by her, unable to keep his distance. He tentatively touched her bare knee, rubbing it gently as she relaxed into his touch. “I’m sorry, Els. I’m not mad at you. And I don’t want you not to go just to appease me. I’m just… fuckin’ terrified. If you go back and something else happens to you, I’ll never forgive myself. And security or not, the only person I trust with your safety right now is me and I know I can’t be there every day to protect you. But here? I can protect you, I can…” he sighed. “I’m just having a hard time l-letting go.” 

She wiped away a few falling tears. “I know… I get it. Going isn’t easy for me either,” she clarified. “I just… know I have to. I would happily stay in this house with you forever. But I know I can’t… I h-have to go and prove to the world and myself that he didn’t destroy me… that I’m not weak. I’m terrified he’ll be there o-or pop up somehow. But I might feel that way for a long time and I can’t stay here with you forever. That’s what he wants, power over us and our lives and I can’t give him that. But I can’t do that if the one person who knows me better than everyone else thinks I’m too weak to do it.”

“You’re right. You’re right. You’re strong and if you feel like you’re ready, I don’t get to argue with that. I’m sorry… this is just… harder than I thought it’d be.” 

Charlotte shook her head and turned to him. “No, don’t apologize for being overprotective. You’re dealing with trauma just as much as I am. We got a bit caught up in the engagement and… planning for the future doesn’t mean we don’t have to deal with what’s going on right now. I know it’s hard for you too.” 

“Sorry… I don’t wanna be overbearing. I just want to keep you safe.”  

She chuckled. “You’ve barely let me out of this apartment in a week… the overbearing ship has sailed. But that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate it. But I have to do this tomorrow, and I hope you can respect that.”

Michael leaned in and kissed her softly, cupping her face with his hand. He felt her slightly flinch beneath him as he accidentally grazed a healing bruise. However, she did not pull away and returned his kiss earnestly. 

“They’ll go away,” she whispered against his lips, kissing his cheek as his eyes darkened. “I’ve gotten used to them.” It was as if her body was so used to it, the bruises and pain barely phased her. 

“I’ll never get used to seeing bruises on you, baby.” He pushed her wild curls behind her ear. “You’re the strongest person I know, by the way. I don’t think you’re weak and you shouldn’t either. It takes so much strength to survive all you have.” 

Charlotte felt her eyes go a bit teary. She did not know why the words mattered so much coming from him but they did. Perhaps, it was just the way she wanted him to see her and everything they were going through threatened that image of perfection and strength she always strived for, that image of deservedness she felt she had to maintain to keep him. She needed him to see her as the woman he would want to spend the rest of his life with, not a traumatized broken thing he had to put back together. 

“Thank you for saying that.” 

He opened his arms and she quickly settled into them, immediately feeling more at ease than she had before. He leaned back on the couch and turned the tv on to their mindless favorite show, the Real Housewives of Atlanta. It was mainly Charlotte’s guilty pleasure but Michael could not deny that it had sucked him in too. 

“Thank you,” she whispered as they watched the show. 

“For what?” 

She smiled. “For caring enough about me and my health to be overbearing. I w-wouldn’t have survived all this without you.” 

She shifted into his lap to kiss him deeply. However, before she could take it too far, he stopped her and broke their kiss. 

“You have an early day tomorrow. Not tonight.” 

Charlotte opened her mouth to retort but Michael’s attention had already shifted away from her and back to the antics of the housewives. She hoped the night of their engagement had not been some odd anomaly and that they were truly back on track. Sex was not the end all be all of their relationship but she knew how important it was to both of them. And it did not bode well to her that they had only been intimate once in a week, injuries or no injuries. But she also knew she was not up for another difficult conversation tonight and she knew that that was one she would most certainly lose so she merely settled against his chest to watch their show, tucking the information away for discussion later.  

***

“I-I guess I should leave this here?” She mused, a sad expression on her face as she examined her ring. “I can’t wear it on stage.”  

Michael raised an eyebrow as he studied her and the expression on her face. “You don’t gotta take it off if you don’t wanna.” 

She shook her head. “Chris texted, the paparazzi and reporters are already at the theater so it’ll be all over the gossip sites before lunch if I wear it. It just feels weird to take it off.”

“You sure you gotta go this early?” 

She nodded. “Yea I haven’t done the choreo or anything in almost a week. Gotta practice, make sure I can actually move fully and everything.” She glanced over to him and offered him a suggestive wink. “I could be persuaded to go a little later if you help me warm up.” She grabbed his sweater and pulled him in for a kiss. 

He chuckled and kissed her. “You’re still injured.” 

She wrinkled her nose in confusion. “That wasn’t a problem the other night?”

“Well… we both had an emotional day and were caught up in the moment and shit. I’d feel better if we waited till you heal fully. Just like I’d feel better if you take it easy today.” 

Saying no to her was easily the hardest thing Michael ever had to do. But after seeing her last night, seeing her genuinely afraid that he was going to hurt her, he could not risk doing anything that could trigger her again, at least not until he was sure she was healed emotionally and physically. It sucked and it would mean many cold showers in his future but it was for the best. 

However, Charlotte was not a mind reader. All she felt was the cold slap of rejection from the man she loved. Charlotte found his response odd but she decided not to press it. She supposed the night of their engagement was just a heat of the moment sort of thing. This was, after all, not her most attractive state. 

“I’ll be fine, Bakari.” 

“I could come with you?” 

Charlotte bit her lip as she stifled the immediate yes that bubbled to the surface. As she watched him yawn, she suddenly felt the weight of how much of a burden she was to him. All he had done was adjust his life to hers so she could heal. She just wanted to feel like his equal again and that meant she could not rely on him for everything. 

“Thanks for the offer but I’m good. I’ll be fine.” She tried to make her voice sound sure and decisive, despite the doubt on his face. “Besides, let me worry about you for once. You need sleep without me screaming you awake, babe. You’re exhausted.” 

Michael could not disagree more but something in her tone made him want to acquiesce to her words, despite his reservations. She was not wrong that he could use some true uninterrupted rest. 

“You sure? I really don’t mind coming, nothing wrong with needing some extra support.” 

Charlotte stopped herself from taking him up on the offer. “I know… But I got Adam and we’ll be just fine.”

“You sure?” He walked over and tilted her chin up to examine the bruising on her face. 

She had not finished putting on her make up yet. They were looking better and better each day, though they were not healing fast enough for Michael’s liking. His eyes darkened slightly, Charlotte rubbing his bare arm. 

“I’ll be back to my perfect flawless self soon, promise.” She pecked him on the nose. “And yes, I promise. I know you got shit to do.” 

She walked back to their master bathroom to finish her routine. She took extra care to ensure every bruise and cut was adequately covered before she finished getting dressed. It was like riding a bike, remembering all the techniques to hide the damage he caused. By the time she was done, her skin looked unblemished enough to pass the test with any photographer. 

As she walked around their bedroom, gathering all of her things for the show, she forced herself to think positively as images of Shaun flashed in her mind. She refused to give in to them though. He had taken so much, she refused to let him take this too. 

“Got everything? Baby?” Michael called, pulling Charlotte out of her thoughts, putting his hand on the small of her back when she did not register him. . 

She jumped slightly at his touch. She tried to play it off but she could tell he noticed in how his eyes softened slightly.  

“Yea, yea sorry. Was in my own head. I’m ready. Adam’s been waiting for me downstairs, I should go.” 

She kissed him on the cheek and threw him a soft smile before heading toward the door. She grabbed her keys and her bag as she moved through the living room. However, the ding of the elevator as it opened left her paralyzed, unable to force herself to cross the threshold out of her cocoon and into the real world again. A wave of panic washed over her at leaving for the first time alone and going back there, where he was. She tried to remind herself that he was not there but then all the nightmares of the last week came rushing back. She did not talk about them, particularly not to Michael, because she knew he would never have let her leave if she did. But she could not stop herself from thinking of the worst case scenario now. 

Was she a complete fool for leaving her one and only safe space to give him another opportunity to hurt her? She got lucky twice but she had a sickening feeling Shaun would not error a third time if given the chance to finish the job. All week, had she been completely deluded for believing he would not be so foolish as to try to hurt her again? But when had he ever cared about restraining orders or police? The law had not once stopped him for exercising his control, power, and revenge over her when he really wanted to. Why would it now? 

A voice rang out loudly in her head, encouraging her to turn right around and retreat into her bed with Michael where it was safe. But another voice demanded she put one foot in front of the other and face him head on again. She did not cower before, she could not now. It was all just too much, too scary, too much to consider for one person. 

“Els, baby… Focus on me.” 

She glanced up from the floor to find Michael standing in front of her, his face twisted up in concern. She did not understand what was wrong until she heard them, the shallow quick breaths that filled their quiet foyer that belonged to her.

“That’s it, breathe. You’re ok. Just got a little overwhelmed,” he whispered to her as he took slow deep breaths with her. He knew it was too much too fast. But when it came to her career, Charlotte was the first person he had ever met that was more stubborn than him. 

He cradled her head into the space between his neck and shoulder, Charlotte taking deep breaths of his cologne and natural scent. His arms were tightly wrapped around her. She would have thought it would be suffocating during a panic attack but it was grounding to her, his touch, his soft whispers in her ear.

“I-I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I-I can do it… I can do it.” 

“Hey, look at me, honeybee.” He waited until her glossy eyes were on him before he said, “I know nothing I can say will stop you from going today. But it’s ok if you’re not ok yet, Charlotte. Being scared and honest about that doesn’t make you weak and it doesn’t mean he wins. It doesn’t tell the world you're powerless. It tells them you’re human. And it’s ok to need and want extra support. All you gotta do is ask, baby.” He kissed her ring finger, which was now bare as she had taken it off in their room. “You never gotta do anything alone again. Understand?”

Charlotte glanced up at the ceiling to stop the floodgates from opening. “I j-just feel like such a burden to you these last few days. You’ve done nothing b-but take care of me,” she whispered. “I need to go… I know I do. I have to go, Bakari. B-but I don’t think I c-can go without you. With you is the only place I f-feel safe right now.” 

He kissed her temple. “You’ve never been and will never be a burden to me, love. Give me five minutes.” And with that, he disappeared back into their bedroom.

Charlotte sat down in one of their living room chairs and placed her head in her hands. She hated how quickly she caved. She could not even make it out of their house, let alone to work. She choked back a small sob, this was not how she saw her triumphant return going down. She felt ashamed of herself for not being stronger, for not holding it together better. She just wanted to be strong again, herself again, but that felt farther away than she would have liked. 

“Whatever you’re thinking, Els, stop it. You’re going, that’s what matters… not what support you need to do it. This isn’t a bad thing.” 

She wiped her tears away and took a deep breath before nodding. She was doing the best she could. And that would have to be enough. 

“You’re right, you’re right. Let’s go.” 

Michael interlocked his fingers with hers as he led her back to the elevator. With his presence by her side, stepping into the elevator and the ride down seemed for less jarring, though she could feel her heart racing slightly. She was thankful to find their street void of paparazzi and cameras when they exited. 

Michael, a saint, used the car ride to distract her, sharing updates on Black Panther prep he was about to start. She listened intently as he explained the new diet and workout regime he would have to follow to get the build required for the character. He had no insight to the plot but he shared some directions he thought they might go in based on the comic lore. Listening to him talk about work for 20 minutes was the exact distraction she needed and she was thankful to him for it. 

His musings carried them the entire 20 minute ride to the theater, Charlotte not surprised but annoyed to find a crowd of cameras and people right outside the entrance staff used. 

“Shit. Is almost dying really that interesting to anyone??” She remarked to Michael as Adam asked them to pause while he studied the terrain. He had explained to them yesterday that he had already gone to the theater and done his usual recon. Charlotte could not help but roll her eyes at that. She was not the damn pope or Queen Charlotte herself… she was just Charlie. 

“Well, being attacked on the opening night of your show is shocking so it’s newsworthy to someone.”  

“It’s weird,” she decided. Charlotte liked that her star was a small one. She did not want or care for fame, never wanted to be one of those celebrities that called the paparazzi to follow their every move. She wanted to do what she loved but she also wanted a quiet life, one with some modicum of privacy. 

“Ready when you are, Ms. Bennett.” 

She took a deep breath, sliding her shades onto her face. Michael pressed his lips to her hand, which was still interlaced into his. He had only let her go once to get in the car. 

“I’m right beside you.” 

“I know you are,” she responded sweetly. “Ready.” 

Adam jumped out of the car first and opened their door, Michael sliding out before Charlotte. She focused on Michael’s hand in hers as she ignored the loud calls and flashes of the cameras. The only thing that made her pause was a pack of fans that gathered on the opposite side, most of them young women and holding signs of support for her that made her heart swell. She originally had no intention of stopping or talking to anyone when she thought it was just reporters and express. But those girls added a detour to her journey, much to Adam and Michael’s annoyance. 

All of them held bright smiles as she pushed her shades onto the top of her head. Many of them had Playbills from the show, clearly having gone in the last week and others just had pieces of paper and signs that they asked her to sign. She tried her best to sign every Playbill and paper shoved in her face and smile in the direction of every camera for every selfie. 

Charlotte still found the idea that she had fans to be jarring. It was one aspect of her job that she was not used to at all, that people would camp out anywhere on a cold NYC morning for the chance to get a glimpse of her. 

One of the girls standing there asked for a selfie and as she took it, she said, “Could you sign this? We,” she gestured at the girl next to her that carried such a striking resemblance that she had to have been her twin. “Wanted to get tickets for tonight too but…”

“The ones that were left were so expensive.” The other girl jumped in. “Guess we aren’t the only ones desperate to see you on stage.” 

“We’re here visiting our parents and heading back to Yale tomorrow but figured we could try to get a glimpse of you,” the first girl admitted. “I… just want to say thank you.” 

Charlotte raised an eyebrow. “For what?”

“For showing that leaving is hard but it's never the wrong choice. And that if you’re lucky, maybe you’ll find better,” she glanced at Michael who was quietly standing beside her. 

Charlotte clenched her eyes shut to stop a tear from falling. This girl could not have been a day over 18 or 19. 

“What’s your name?” 

“Chantal and this is my sister, Courtney.” 

She nodded. “Adam,” she called over to the stoic man who had been standing between her and the crowd on the other side of the walkway. “Can you bring Chantal and Courtney around the barrier and inside?” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

Both girls were the picture of shock as they made their way around the steel barriers and followed Charlotte and Michael inside. The young woman marched them around to the General Manager’s office upstairs, both girls utterly perplexed and confused. 

“Charlie! It’s so good to have you back! Chris has been a pain in the ass without you,” Simon remarked as he stood up and wrapped her in a tight hug. 

Charlotte laughed. “Thank you, and I can only imagine.” She flashed him her award-winning bright smile. “Your favorite actress needs a favor?” 

“You name it.” 

“Four front row seats for tonight for my friends here,” she gestured to the two girls, whose mouths had fallen open behind her. 

“You got it. What are your names?” 

Both girls stammered out their full government names while Simon tapped away at his computer. 

“Done. Tickets’ll be waiting for you at will call tonight.” 

“Thank you! You’re the best.” She retreated from his office before walking the girls back to the front to head outside. 

 “W-wait, that w-wasn’t a joke right?” 

Charlotte laughed. “No, not a joke at all. I hope your parents enjoy musicals too. Either way, I hope you both enjoy the show tonight at least.” 

Both girls squealed and threw themselves into her arms, causing Charlotte to laugh. She hugged them both before stepping back. 

“Well, I gotta go rehearse. Make sure I can give y’all the best show possible.” 

“Thank you SO much! You’re amazing and we love you.” 

“No thanks necessary at all. See you tonight.” As the girls scurried off, Charlotte turned to stop them. “Chantal!” 

The young girl turned around as Charlotte closed the space between them.

“You will… find better. The road might be long as fuck,” she admitted, causing the two girls to laugh. “And you’ll take a lot of steps back to take them forward. But it’s not about luck. It’s about knowing you deserve it and being… willing to accept it when it comes. I,” she glanced behind her at Michael who was waiting. “I struggled with that. But I deserved better and you do too, no matter what someone else made you believe.” 

She reached into her purse and grabbed a pen and a spare piece of paper from her notebook. She jotted down her name and phone number and held it out to the young girl who seemed like her jaw might completely detach itself from her face. 

“I know how hard it is… and lonely it is at first. If you need anything, don’t hesitate. And I mean that, truly.” 

“Thank you.” She squeezed her hand before rushing back to her sister, both girls leaving with a bit more pep in their steps. 

She walked back over to Michael who was sporting a look of pure shock. 

“What?” 

“I am just constantly in awe of you.” He pulled her into his arms and wrapped one arm around her waist. “How’d I get so lucky?” 

She smiled. “Pretty sure I’m the lucky one, baby.” 

They shared a chaste but sweet kiss when they heard a couple wolf whistles. Charlotte laughed as she took in Chris and Marcus both staring at them. 

“The queen is back! Thank the good lord,” Chris remarked as he closed the space between them. “Between this damn ulcer and the nightmares, Jason and my doctor will be sending you a fruit basket and flowers.” 

“My understudy wasn’t that bad,” she remarked. The young woman was green to be sure but she was good. 

“Yes but she is no you, my dear. You are one of one.”

“How are you feeling?” Marcus asked as he pulled her into a hug, he examined her with the same quizzical eye Michael often did which made her laugh. 

“She’s fine. Been here five minutes and already giving away four of my most expensive seats in the house. Typical altruistic Charlie.” At Charlotte’s shocked face, Chris shrugged. “I know everything that happens round here.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll pay for them.” 

He shook his head. “Don’t stress about it. We have a block of tickets we budget to give away for one reason or another.” He glanced at Michael beside her. “I see you brought our favorite eye candy back with you.” 

Charlotte laughed and rolled her eyes. “Well, leaving the house was harder than I thought it’d be so Michael offered to come hang out for a bit. Hope that’s ok?” 

“Girl, whatever you need to get your ass back on that stage, I’m fine with. Rehearsal starts in 10.” 

He waved at all of them before leaving Charlotte, Michael, Malcolm and her shadow alone. 

“How are you? Really?” 

While she adored Chris, Malcolm was who she was closest to in the show and was the only one who truly knew her. 

“We’re taking it hour by hour,” she admitted. “And today started off rough but it’s turning around. I’m gonna be ok, I know that much.” 

“That’s what we like to hear.” 

They walked into the theater, the entire company giving Charlotte applause as she walked in. Michael took his seat as she got on stage and did a quick round of hugs to everyone. And then they jumped right into rehearsal. 

Michael spent part of the time doing his own work, answering emails that he had neglected over the last week. He did not regret that but his inbox was abysmal. He knew Charlotte’s was exactly the same. She had talked to her manager once or twice but no work had been accomplished in a week. 

Then he started reviewing the script for his upcoming project. He had been excited originally to play the role but now, he was merely annoyed because it meant he had to return to LA in late June. He did not want a renewal of their argument from the previous night but he knew there was absolutely no way he could convince Charlotte to cut her run short and return with him. And June was Tony’s season and nominated or not, Charlotte would never miss that. However, all of those reasons did not change the simple fact that Michael was fucking terrified. 

This was the love of his life, his future wife, the future mother of his children. Would work ever be more important to him than her safety? And it was not that he did not trust Adam, after all he picked him. But Adam did not love her like he did, did not understand her like he did. Even though it was months away, leaving felt utterly and completely wrong now. And he could not shake the feeling that it was not only a bad idea, it was the worst mistake he could ever make. He knew he could not drop out but he toyed with the probability of getting them to push the filming back, even just a month or two. He decided he’d reach out to his manager and see if it was a possibility. 

He found himself often distracted by Charlotte as she rehearsed. She was a bit stiff at first but she loosened up and fell back into the choreo with ease. This was truly her element, everyone on that stage looked to her for guidance, advice, and support. He could see why Chris was so determined to have her back as soon as possible. She was the glue. 

In between rehearsal and the show, she did interviews that she had not had the chance to do after the premiere. Michael sat next to the young girls they met earlier and their parents and they were utterly in awe of her as she performed. Despite everything, she was better than she was opening night, perhaps because she felt she had more to prove. She left her heart and soul on that stage. 

So much so that she quite literally fell asleep as soon as they got into the SUV to head home. She was utterly beat. She had held it together pretty well most of the day from Michael’s perspective, only having one panic attack when she went back to her dressing room for the first time.

She felt like the ghost of him loomed in the space in a weird way. So much so that she avoided the space until the last possible second and could not enter it alone. She questioned how she would do it every day when Malcolm offered to switch spaces with her. She objected at first, naturally, not wanting to feel like she needed accommodations from anyone. But Michael insisted and she could not deny that it eased some of her panic. 

However, when they got home, she was fairly silent and seemed upset. Michael did not understand why, she had done exactly what she had wanted to today: she had proved he could not take this away from her. 

“You were great today,” Michael offered as they settled into bed. “On all counts.” 

She chuckled humorlessly. “I couldn’t even walk into my own dressing room, Bakari. Couldn’t leave this fuckin’ house without…” She shook her head as she looked up at the ceiling. “I saw him everywhere… like a fuckin’ ghost haunting me every second. And the only thing that stopped me from literally falling apart was being able to look over and see you. If I can’t keep it together on my own, then I can’t…” she clenched her eyes shut. “And then I come here and I try to sleep and he’s there too. J-Just… don’t get a fucking break.”  

She frustratedly wiped a tear from her cheek and flipped onto her side to look away from him. 

Michael sighed and shifted closer to her, spooning her. She tensed up at the unexpected touch before softening into him.

“I know today was hard. But Els, baby… you did it. You left the house, you got on stage, you got a new dressing room, you gave interviews and did everything you needed to do without skipping a beat. That’s not nothing. It’s ok to not be able to hold it together all by yourself. Lean on me, lean on Malcolm and Chris and your castmates to get through the day.” 

“I don’t want special treatment… I don’t want people to see me as their traumatized coworker. I don’t wanna be the weak person he made me forever. It took me years to get over what he did the first time a-and I don’t have years. You aren’t gonna wait years, the world isn’t gonna wait years. I just… want to be ok again now.” 

“Didn’t you tell that girl earlier that it would be a lot of steps back to go forward?” 

She groaned, annoyed that he was throwing her own words back at her. 

“Yes but-“ 

“No buts. You gotta give yourself some grace, baby. You’re gonna have good days when you feel invincible and you’re gonna have days when it feels like you can’t hold it together on your own. And you don’t have to. You’re not broken,” he pressed his lips to her shoulder. “You never were and you certainly aren’t now. It’s gonna be a long road but you aren’t walkin’ it alone.”

“I just…” her words failed her but something in her told her to put on a brave face. She knew she was not walking it alone but she also knew she could not keep bearing all her weight on MIchael. She had to start carrying some of it on her own. Even if he currently felt like she was not a burden, there was no telling how long that feeling would last. 

So she nodded and turned over to face him. “You’re right. It was a good first step and tomorrow’ll be even better. Thanks for today.” 

“Of course. I can come with you tomorrow too?” he offered. 

Charlotte chucked. “Nah, don’t worry about it. I know spending all day in that theater is not fun.” 

Michael shrugged. “Being there for you is fun. I insist.” 

“Bu-” she started to say when Michael pulled her into his chest and kissed her on the forehead, cutting her off. 

“Get some rest. Night, baby.” 

***

“So how are you, Charlie? Really?” Michael’s mom called down the long dining room table as they all enjoyed Easter Sunday dinner.

She was thankful to have a couple days off so she and Michael returned to LA to visit family and escape New York for a bit. Their trip, which had been intended to be an adventure for the pair, had turned into anything but. And there was a safety to returning home, to Michael’s house and to his bed, even if it was only for a long weekend. 

Given that her nieces and nephews were all on Spring Break, it was the perfect time to get the families together. So it was the first time her dad, sister and CJ were meeting Michael’s family. The evening had been perfect so far, she decided, both groups blending as if they were destined to be family. 

“I’m ok… really,” she emphasized at the skeptical glances from everyone at the table, including her fiance. “He’s been out on bail, hasn’t tried anything. He’ll go to prison and that’ll be the end of it,” she assured them. She would never admit it out loud, particularly not within earshot of Michael, but those words were merely for their benefit. Not even 50% of her mind actually believed it. Shaun proved that he was not above biding his time for as long as it took. She would be a fool to believe his obsession with her was over simply because he got caught. But that was not a truth or fear she was in a place to admit to anyone. 

“You’re still havin’ nightmares though…” Michael offered quietly. 

Charlotte cut her eyes toward him with a quick glare that most of the table, thankfully, did not see. It silently said “what the fuck?” to which he merely shrugged as if he did not see the problem with detailing her weaknesses to her entire family. 

It’s the truth, his eyes seemed to shoot back at her.

“Are you ok?” 

“Do you need to increase your therapy sessions?” 

Charlotte immediately groaned internally, overwhelmed by the barrage of questions and concerns. This was exactly what she wanted to avoid. 

“Guys, guys… calm down. Michael is exaggerating,” she answered with a reassuring and calming smile. “I still have nightmares but they are far less than they were at first. It’s progress, but it’s slow. And it’s just been a few weeks. It’s not like last time,” she promised, her eyes trained on Jackson who was most invested in her recovery, aside from Michael. He called her damn near every day twice a day.

“Well, as long as you feel like you’re getting better.” 

“I am, really.” 

“You gonna be ok when Michael comes back this way for his movie this summer?” 

Charlotte nodded immediately, though she was dreading it inside. However, that was not something she could admit either. “Yea it’s gon-“ 

“I actually asked them if we could push filming back,” Michael interrupted. “To the fall when Els’ run is over. Just waiting to hear what they say.” 

Charlotte glanced up from her plate in surprise, that was the first she had heard of this. “What? When did you do that? Why did you do that?” 

“I called my agent and asked her to look into it Thursday before we left New York. Just figured a family emergency and needin’ to be there for you was hard to argue with.” 

Charlotte could not stop the confusion and anger that bubbled under the surface at him. She understood the intention behind his gesture but she did not ask him to do that and to be frank, she did not want it. It was not that she wanted to be alone in New York but she also had worked so hard in the last few weeks to stop burdening him, to heal and move forward. But this was the literal opposite of that. 

“But the summer is several months away. It’ll hardly be an emergency by then. I’m fine.”

He shrugged. “I disagree.” 

“You dis-” she started to say when Jackson interrupted, her sweet but slightly oblivious brother not picking up on the mounting tension between the couple. 

“I think it’s a good thing. Not like you don’t need the extra protection, it’s better this way, Charlie.” 

“Better for who?” She mumbled under her breath before stabbing her piece of ham with her fork. 

“The real question is when are you gonna be free for the bachelorette party?” Jazzmine asked from across the table with a smile. “Lo and I are already starting to plan.” 

Charlotte rolled her eyes as everyone smirked. “Nothing crazy, Jazz… please. I don’t know what time I’m gonna have off so we could legit just get the girls together for a fun weekend in New York. Have the wild NYC nights we didn’t get to have back in the old days,” she teased. 

Lo’s face lit up as she turned to Jazz. “Oh that would be so much fun. I’ll do some research on restaurants and Jazz, can you find us some lounges that we can go out to? Maybe in like July?” 

“You sure you wanna do New York?” Michael asked quietly, pulling Charlotte’s attention away from her girlfriends as they chatted away about her party. 

“Yea, it’s lowkey and easy. Inexpensive for everyone to get to and everything. Don’t need a big fuss. Why?” 

Michael shifted in his seat uncomfortably, Charlotte could almost see the wheels turning in his head as he thought of the right words to say whatever was on his mind. 

“Just don’t think it’s safe for you to be going out to clubs and lounges late like that. You know… least not until after his trial.” His voice was low as to not draw attention to the couple. However, before she could respond, he glanced up at Lauren and Jazz and said, “Plan somethin’ outside the US. My treat, of course. Go wild.”

“God, I love him,” Jazz not-so-quietly muttered under her breath causing the entire table to laugh, except Charlotte. “You sure you wanna marry him, girl? Cause I’ll fight you for him.” 

Charlotte forced a light chuckle from her lips before returning to her food, frustration coursing through her body like a roaring river. She was virtually silent as their families interacted for the rest of the night. She barely spoke, only offering one or two words to Michael’s nonstop chatter when they returned to their bedroom to get ready for bed. 

She wanted to say something to him but she did not know how, nor was she sure which issue to tackle first because for the first time in their relationship, there were several. 

They were still them in the ways that mattered most, still loving and caring and invested in their relationship. But something, or rather several somethings, were simply off track and causing fissures to grow between them. And tonight, she realized that they had gotten too big to ignore any longer.  

Originally, she had thought the lack of physical intimacy was their most pressing issue. Gone were the casual touches and sexual playfulness that they developed in their relationship. They had sex one time since their engagement and it was their worst time together by far. Michael spent the entire time checking in and asking her if she was ok or needed him to stop so much so that Charlotte could not even get into the moment or enjoy the experience. As the incident got further in their rearview, she tried to initiate a couple more times but he always found an excuse so finally, she stopped asking altogether. 

And that was concerning in and of itself, the crumpling of the one area of their relationship that had always been strong. But dinner proved that they were also having serious communication issues that she had been actively ignoring. It was so unlike Michael to make such a giant career decision without consulting her first, without taking into account her own feelings and opinions about her recovery.

Was she completely healed? Were things perfect? Definitely not. But was she moving in the right direction? Was she doing the best she could? Yes and still, she felt like it was not enough to get her fiance to stop treating her like the broken woman he found in that bathroom, battered, bruised and half dead. Even telling her she could not go out in New York with her friends was so on brand for him at the present moment but so unlike anything she was used to from him. And that had not been the first time. They got invited to parties and events and the like in New York and Michael found excuse after excuse for them not to go. She blamed herself for not being more vocal about wanting to go out and be who they used to be so she put all of her efforts into getting better to prove she could handle it, prove she was still the woman he wanted. However, nothing seemed to work. She wanted to move on with their lives and his mind was firmly stuck on who she was on March 1. 

And that made her doubt whether they would. All the things Michael once valued in her, he clearly did not see anymore… why else would he treat her so differently?

“You ok? Want me to make you some tea? Anything hurt?” Michael asked as they got ready for bed. 

Their nighttime routine was typically filled with laughter and conversation but tonight, Charlotte was stuck in her own head, wrestling with why her relationship seemed to be falling apart when they were both so clearly trying their hardest to keep it together. 

“No, I’m fine.” 

“You don’t seem fine.” He sighed, misreading her sour attitude for something else. “I don’t know why you feel the need to pretend like you’re ok with me when you aren’t. It’s just been a few weeks, Els. No one but you expects you to be ok.” 

Charlotte’s knuckles could’ve turned white at the way she gripped the edge of their counter in anger. “You know not every negative emotion I feel is about Shaun, right? Like I’m allowed to just be mad and annoyed at you every once in a while?” 

Michael’s eyes grew wide. “Mad at me?? What did I do?” 

“How about the fact that you made this major decision and didn’t tell me?” 

“What major decision??” 

Charlotte threw her hands up in the air. “Moving your movie schedule, Michael!” 

Michael could tell she was legitimately upset given that she used his first name and not Bakari or another pet name. However, for the life of him, he could not understand the issue. 

“That’s not a big deal tho. I just asked them to push back a couple months.”

“That is a big deal! Asking for an entire movie to be rearranged so you can play the fucking overseer.” 

“That’s not fair. I was tryin’ to help you.” 

Charlotte scoffed. “Help me? Oh and is flashing your wallet around to convince my friends to plan a different party than the one I want helping me too??” 

Michael walked out of their bathroom, the two facing off at the foot of the bed. 

“You aren’t gonna get fuckin’ mad at me for telling you shit is unsafe. No, you don’t need to be fuckin’ around in the middle of the night drunk in New York while he’s still out there. You can be mad all you want.” 

Michael felt no shame or guilt for drawing the line in the sand somewhere. He saw no issue in keeping Charlotte at home. She went to work, they occasionally went to dinner - though he preferred just ordering them take out these days - and that was virtually it. He went to the theater with her almost every day, only leaving around show time and returning with the car to pick her up. It was a sacrifice to be sure. But what did it matter if she was safe and had extra layers of protection? 

“If you had your way, I’d never leave our fucking apartment!” She hurled at him. “You wanna help me? Stop treating me like a fragile doll that’ll break if you aren’t around. Stop… stop denying me affection and love and just admit the truth!” 

“What truth??” 

“You don’t want me anymore!” Charlotte exploded, her own insecurities compounded by her perceptions of her fiancé’s behavior. “You proposed and you regret it and you don’t want me.” 

“That’s the farthest thing from the truth in this world, Charlotte.” 

She closed the space between them as she shouted. “Then why don’t you touch me like you used to? Why don’t you make love to me or fuck me or literally anything anymore? Our relationship is void of physical intimacy that I know both of us need. So tell me. What other reason could it be other than you can’t get the image of what he did out of your head and I’m not the woman you thought I was o-or want anymore? Tell me!” 

Michael’s mouth opened and closed several times, unsure of what exactly to say. He had never seen her so upset, particularly directed at him, over something that was simply not true. However, despite the anger she displayed, something stopped him from telling her the truth. It was foolish to not trust her with his own fears and vulnerabilities but it was unfair to make her healing about him. 

“I promise you it’s not because I don’t want you.” 

Charlotte stared at him, waiting for something… anything to signal to her what the true reason was. But he gave her nothing. 

Charlotte let out a breath that sounded like a cold laugh before nodding and  stalking over to her side of the bed to grab her pillow and favorite blanket, one that Michael used often and carried his scent. 

“I don’t want promises, Michael. I want you to be honest. And until you are ready to admit whatever has you treating me like a patient instead of your future wire, I’ll be in the guest room.” She paused. “Here and in New York.” 

“You shouldn’t sleep alone, Charlotte.” 

“I dealt with nightmares before you, Michael and I can deal with them now. If you really want to help me,” she clenched her eyes shut to stop the tears that welled in them, tears that she knew would not help her case. She was just so tired, tired of everyone in her life and in the media and everywhere she turned fawning over her. She just wanted someone to treat her like nothing had changed and she had hoped that would be Michael. But he could not do it either. “Then start treating me like someone you believe is actually capable of healing. Cause right now, all you treat me like is a woman who's too broken to be put back together again. And if that’s all you see when you look at me, we aren’t gonna make it.” 

And with that, she raced out of their bedroom and down the hallway toward one of the guest rooms, leaving Michael alone. He felt as if he had whiplash, the argument happening so fast over something he felt was so insignificant, he could not fully understand what to do. 

A knock at the door pulled him out of his thoughts. He swung it open to find his father standing in the hallway, two glasses of scotch in his hands. 

“Heard some raised voices. You good, son?” 

“Not really,” he muttered as he took the drink out of his dad’s hand and ushered him inside.

“Feel like I’m tryin’ to do right by Els, give her what she needs and she’s actin’ like it’s too much… or not enough of the right thing… or I dunno. We’ve never,” he flopped down on the edge of their bed, his hand rubbing his head. “We’ve never been like this before.” 

Michael Sr sat down in the arm chair across from his son. “Well, you ain’t been together long enough to be like much. I think you two were made for each other, don’t get me wrong. But marriage ain’t easy ‘n you two are gonna hit more than a couple rough patches where it seems like it just ain’t workin’. And that’s to be expected given what you both went through. You need to talk.” 

“I try to talk to her, pops. Get her to tell me what she's feelin��, how she’s doin’. She just wants to act like everything’s fine when I know it isn’t. I mean, you take care of ma… her health. She doesn’t fault you for being protective. What am I doing wrong right now?” 

His father let out a low chuckle before taking a long sip of his drink. “Bold to assume your momma didn’t cuss me out more than once too. I raised you ‘n your brother the way I was raised. To be a provider, protector, fixer. And I did the same thing you’re doin’ when your momma first started havin’ health issues. Constantly checkin’ in, assuming I knew what she needed or how she was feelin’ better than she did. And just doin’ it cause I thought I knew best. And all I was really doin’ is creating resentment.”

“What you mean?” 

“I mean… your mom didn’t and still doesn’t want a doctor, she has a doctor. She didn’t need a therapist. She wanted her husband, a safe spot to land ‘n know I was gonna treat her like her when the days were good ‘n jump in ‘n pull the extra weight on the bad days. But that I was still gonna let her be her, not treat her like a sick person who can’t take care of herself. But I felt so outta control as a protector and fixer that I went overboard tryin’ to fix somethin’ that couldn’t be. Took a lot of counseling to get outta that.”  

Michael raised his eyebrow in shock. His parents were not of a generation that typically had a positive outlook on therapists and counseling. He also would have never thought their marriage ever required it. His parents’ marriage, in his mind, was the blueprint. 

“Really?” 

“Yea… I mean it was different than what you kids do now with licensed therapists. But yea, we went to counseling with our pastor ‘n it helped. Helped both of us admit what we needed, helped us find common ground. N now, I protect your mother while respecting her boundaries. I know you. You’re tryin’ to fix something that only Charlotte and time can fix. And if you hold on too tight, try to fix too much cause you’re afraid of losing her, you’re just gonna lose her in a different way. This is your first taste of marriage, son. Shit ain’t easy but it’s worth it.” 

His dad stood up and patted him on the shoulder before walking toward the door. However, as he opened it, he stopped and turned. 

“Another piece of hard-earned advice?” Michael nodded for him to continue. “You just learned how short life is, how precious every minute is. You don’t go to bed alone or angry ever. You ain’t gotta fix it tonight, you ain’t even gotta talk about it tonight. But don’t let her fall asleep down that hall thinkin’ you don’t wanna fix whatever this is. Understand?” 

“Yea I gotchu. Thanks pops.” 

“Anytime, son.” 

Michael downed the rest of his drink before grabbing his own pillow and walking down the hallway to the guest room he knew Charlotte would be in. The door was not closed all the way so he peeked through the crack for a moment, studying her form which was curled into a tight ball in the middle of the bed. Her light sniffles reached his ears and immediately propelled him forward. 

He knocked on the door.

“Come in,” she called, her voice broken and small. She forced herself into a seated position, wiping her tear-stained cheeks as she sat up. 

They stared at each other expectantly for a few moments before Michael stepped forward. 

“I know I’ve been… distant in a lot of ways the last few weeks. And probably overbearing and controlling, which isn’t what I want you to feel. And I’m sorry for that. And if I had the right words to explain why, I would. But I don’t. I don’t know what this feeling is o-or how to describe it to you. And I can assure you it’s not because I don’t want you. I’ll always want you. But I know this isn’t what you need and this isn’t the relationship I want for us. I know you’re already working with your therapist but maybe we can try couple’s counseling? For a couple weeks? Maybe we can get back on track sooner rather than later.” 

“Really?” she asked. Michael had never expressed anti-therapist sentiments and supported her journey wholeheartedly but he always said he never considered going himself, never thought he would need one. “I thought about suggesting it for us… after everything. I just figured you wouldn’t be into it.” 

Michael meandered over to her side of the bed and sat down, his hand rubbing her leg. 

“I’m into whatever you and I need to do to get back on the same page. I love you and I want you and I know I haven’t been myself lately,” he admitted. “But I hear you and I’m willing to figure it out so I can support you how you need me to.” 

“Thank you… for that. And I’m sorry for blowing up at you. I just… I just want to be me again. I want us again,” she mumbled, bringing her knees to her chest. 

“I know. And we’ll get there. I promise. I’m in it for the long haul, even if we gotta go to so many sessions we fund a beach house for your therapist.” 

Charlotte let out a cackling laugh. “I mean I’ve definitely already funded her beach house… maybe a like cabin in the woods next… she loves that type of stuff.” Charlotte rolled her eyes with a chuckle before her face returned to it’s more solemn expression. She stared at him for a few minutes before grabbing her pillow. “Will it completely ruin my street cred next argument if I come back to our room? This bed sucks,” she muttered. It was harder than their bed and more uncomfortable but the reality was, she had no interest in sleeping alone even if she was still upset. 

Michael kissed her on the forehead and gestured toward the door. “A very small ding in street cred,” he joked. “But,” he lifted up his own pillow. “I lose some too for coming in here like a lost damn puppy.” He joked, both of them laughing. 

“God, we can’t even do one night mad at each other right.” 

“I think that’s a good sign,” Michael remarked. “Think that means we’re gonna be just fine.” 

“Yea… we will be.”

Tag List: @certifiedlesbianbaddie @bangtanxmegan @reelwriter19 @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @hi888888sworld @msniaimani @destinio1 @lynaye1993 @chaoticevilbakugo @blackerthings @pipsqueak-98 @miyuhpapayuh @passionxwrites @gopaperless @injerafiend @ari17

A/N: Thanks so much for reading! Drop a comment and let me know what you think and how therapy's gonna go for our favs. This'll be the last update till December!

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

[lieslab]

Hi lie. I'm so sorry about your rabbit. I follow you on Twitter and you were always joking and talking about him. It sucks that he's gone. I saw you said he had to be put down. I know there's a follower of yours that's been wanting you to create a ko-fi and ways we can send money to support you. I'm sure the vet was expensive so can you make that so I can send you money?

You joked that he was your assistant writer once and he deserves to be remembered. Please let us help you while you mourn. Even if people can't send anything, a repost is more than enough. Let us care for you in the same way you care for us. I hope you can feel the sunshine that you radiate again soon. Sending you lots of love and hugs

-🌻

I did tweet about him a lot. He was truly my pride and joy. I did say I was going to create that and I will have it posted within the next few days. I haven't created the accounts yet.

You really don't have to send me money for that. Actually, I thought it'd cost way more than what it actually did. I'm just glad that he's not suffering anymore. He was okay up until the end when he violently took an awful turn. I hated to see him looking so miserable. I've never seen him like that before and it killed a piece of me.

You can remember him by taking the time out of your day and stepping outside. Soak in the sunshine and listen to the sound of birds. Watch the wild rabbits play, the squirrels scamper for food, and watch the birds dig up worms. Clean up the litter you find and remember to appreciate the local wildlife.

Sometimes we get so caught up in life, we forget that there's more to this than just social media doom-scrolling and work stress. We forget the earth keeps turning and there's little hearts out there that still beat. When nothing else is going right, the sun still shines and the moon still glitters off bodies of water.

Go on a walk and soak it in. My rabbit didn't make it to fall, but you did. Buy a pumpkin and carve or paint it. Find an apple orchard to pick apples and then come home and make homemade apple butter. Go on a hayride or a haunted house.

Maybe you can't afford that, so put on your favorite horror movie. Every fall, I like to revisit the Twilight series and rewatch it. Watch a YouTube video essay about your favorite topic. Find things to do to your community. You don't have to be totally involved, but there's so much love and support and life out there that we forget about it.

Despite my rabbit being a pain in my ass at times and a total brat, he always seemed to know when I was mentally struggling. He used to come over randomly and patiently wait at the edge of my bed, while staring with little beady bunny eyes, for me to reach down and pet him. He used to do that a lot. Whenever I fell asleep, I'd usually wake up to him watching me and keeping an eye on me.

He never wanted me to struggle mentally and I don't think he wants that for anyone. So if you're struggling, just remember that somewhere on the other side, a tiny black and white rabbit (who looked an awful lot like a tiny cow, loved listening to Mitski and Hozier, and loved to have an attitude at times) would not want you to struggle alone. Lean on your friends and family, seek out people who care, and surround yourself with people who ooze love and make living worthwhile <3

[punchdrunkdoc]

Part 2, Chapter 5

Summary: After the events of S3, Matt Murdock is trying to once again balance life as a lawyer and a vigilante. But he’s been scarred by loss and betrayal - will a mysterious new neighbour help him heal? Or will her secrets drag him back into the darkness?

Notes: This is a slow burn romance with an original female character, told in 3 parts. There is mystery, intrigue, action/violence and angst - all the good stuff!

Also available on AO3 and Wattpad

Masterlist

Reference pics

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PART 2

Chapter 5

“I like Calina.”

The random statement took Matt by surprise. Karen had knocked on his office door moments ago, asking if he wanted anything from the coffee shop around the corner. Her mid-afternoon caffeine slumps needed more than the filtered swill from their decades old coffee machine, so she usually made a coffee run around this time to get a ‘proper’ drink.

“No, I’m good,” Matt had replied. Despite his heightened sense of taste, he was fine with the swill, and was already halfway through a cup. 

Karen had nodded and turned to leave…but then paused in his doorway. With her back to him, she softly said, “I like Calina.”

“Um, I’m glad.”

This morning, both Foggy and Karen had noted how impressed they were with Calina’s insights into the mystery drug. Matt had been more than impressed. Listening to Calina unlock the secret behind the drug’s - the pheromone’s - effects, seeing the proof of her intellect and tenacity and how it had helped them get one step closer to solving the case…he’d been awe-struck. He’d tried to tell her so after his friends had left that night, but she’d just brushed off his compliments with a shrug.

Karen turned around and leaned against the door jamb. “I know things were awkward for a while after…what happened between us. But I like the place we’re in now. We work so much better like this - as friends.”

“I feel the same way.”

“And I’m really happy you’ve found someone.”

“It’s not like-” Matt tried to object.

But she didn’t seem to hear him. She just continued talking in a slightly nervous, fast jumble. “I'm with David now, and you have Calina. I think everything’s happened the way it was meant to. I just wanted to tell you that.”

“But Calina and I-”

She started walking backwards out of his office, talking over his attempts to set the record straight. “I’ll go grab my coffee now. You sure you don’t want anything?”

Matt opened his mouth to try one more time, but she was almost at the door. She seemed ready to bolt, as if she’d psyched herself up for her speech and now that it was over she wanted nothing more than to disappear.

He recognised how hard it was for her to broach the topic of…them.  They’d never revisited the conversation they’d had earlier in the year when they’d both decided they’d be better off as friends. And he’d known at the time that Karen had reached that decision from a logical standpoint long before her heart had caught up.

But it seemed like now it had. She was happy with someone else, and wanted him to be happy too.

So now wasn’t the time to argue semantics with her. He just shook his head. “I’m fine. But thanks.”

The moment the door closed behind her, Foggy entered Matt’s office and sat down, his arms crossed. “Are you still trying to pretend you’re not with Calina?”

Matt sighed. “I take it you heard that conversation.”

“Yep. As well as your pathetic attempts to deny reality.”

“It is reality, Fog. Calina and I are just friends.”

“Where’s your couch, Matt?”

Matt frowned at the strange question. “What?”

“Where is your couch?” Foggy repeated, enunciating each word.

“I had to get rid of it - it broke during the fight with Calina.”

“That’s what I thought. So where are you sleeping at night?”

Matt took a deep breath and smoothed down his tie, now knowing exactly where Foggy was going with this line of questioning. “In my bed. And before you ask - yes, Calina’s there too.”

“Aha!”

“There’s no big ‘gotcha’ here, Foggy,” Matt responded calmly. “We’re sharing a bed for practical purposes.”

“C’mon, Matty! You like this woman. You admitted you’re attracted to her, you’re sleeping with her, you can’t stop touching her, why-”

“What are you talking about?”

“You really don’t know?” Foggy laughed in disbelief. “Dude, you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself on Saturday. When you handed her a drink, your fingers touched. When you pulled her seat out for her at the table - and that gallant move did not go unnoticed, by the way - you brushed your hand down her shoulder when she sat down. When you wanted her attention, you tapped her on the hand. And she always had your attention - you were so tuned to every little move she made. Its no wonder Karen thought you were a couple.”

Matt thought back to the instances Foggy mentioned. And viewing it through his friend’s perspective, he could see how he and Calina looked…close. But Calina’s declaration the other night had left him a little on edge. The thought of her taking her own life in desperation had scared the hell out of him. Since then, he'd felt the need to reassure himself that she was still there. Still within reach.

And his friends had obviously picked up on it. “It doesn’t mean what you think it does,” Matt tried to explain.

But Foggy cut him off. “Why not? Why can’t it?”

Matt tried to explain his hesitation. “She’s too…new…to this world.”

“We already covered the age difference thing - seven years is not that big a deal.”

“Its nothing to do with her age. Because of the way she was raised, and how she was used as a Widow, she has no life experience, Foggy. Everything is brand new to her. It feels wrong to take advantage of that.”

“That just sounds like another excuse, Matt. Same as the excuse about being too busy at work or not wanting to be distracted. Why do you keep making up reasons to not be with her when its what you so obviously want?”

Matt got to his feet and started pacing. He was tired of Foggy pushing this. Pushing him. “Why does it matter? Why do you care so much?”

“Because I want my friend back!”

“I am back!”

“No, parts of you are back. But you’re like some…shadow of who you used to be. For months, you barely cracked a smile. You didn’t laugh. When you're out with us at Josie’s, its like you’re just going through the motions. You’re not there. But ever since Calina came into the picture, I’ve seen hints of the old Matt. She’s good for you. And I think if you let yourself want her, and let yourself be with her, you could be really and truly happy.”

Matt raked his hands through his hair. “Foggy…its only been six months.”

“What?”

“It’s only been six months since I lost Elektra. You don’t move on from losing your soulmate just like that.”

Foggy leaned forward in his seat and dropped his head in his hands. He was silent for several long moments.

“What?” Matt said sarcastically. “Now you have nothing to say?”

Foggy raised his head again. “Oh, I have plenty to say. I just don’t want to get in an argument with you.”

“I think its too late for that. Just spit it out.”

Foggy threw his arms up. “Fine. Fine! Elektra…she was not your fucking soulmate, Matt.”

“You can’t say that. You don’t know what we had.”

“Maybe not, but I saw what she did to you. I saw how you changed because of her - and not for the better. A soulmate doesn’t do that. They don’t bring out the worst in the people they’re with.”

“No, Foggy, she loved me-”

“Bullshit. She loved the darkness in you. She loved stoking it, and using it, and revelling in all the chaos and violence that you two wreaked. She loved that darkness, because it reflected her own. She was the ultimate narcissist. And narcissists are only capable of loving one person - themselves.”

“You’re wrong. She made me feel alive-”

“So does fucking sky diving! It doesn’t mean there’s no danger of crashing to the ground. I know you loved her, Matt, but what you had was toxic. It was destructive, and you need to see that. You’ve sanctified Elektra - and your relationship with her - in your head and its stopping you from embracing the amazing thing that’s right in front of you.”

Foggy took a deep breath. And when he spoke again the anger and frustration was gone from his voice, leaving behind only weary sadness. “You need someone who loves you for the good inside you, Matt. Not the darkness. And I think Calina might be that person.”

 ———

 Calina looked up from her book as Matt descended the stairs from the rooftop.

He was back early.

For the second night in a row.

She was normally already in bed by the time he returned from his Daredevil outings - though not asleep. She couldn’t seem to drift of into a peaceful sleep unless he was beside her. But she would lie in bed and wait for him, sometimes listening to music, sometimes just enjoying the sounds of the city outside the window. When he’d creep into apartment in the early hours of the morning, she would call out to him, to welcome him home…and he would admonish her in whispered tones for waiting up. Then, when he’d enter the bedroom, showered and changed into his pyjamas, she would check him over for fresh injuries and ask him how his night had gone.

It was a routine they’d established their first week living together.

A routine that he was now breaking for some reason.

She followed him with her eyes as he trod down the stairs. He wasn’t moving like he was injured, and there were no tears or visible bloodstains on his suit. But his normally light footsteps were slow and heavy with…something.

Fatigue, maybe? From one too many nights searching for victims of the fear pheromone? Or maybe from frustration? They’d made a break through by identifying the nature of the drug and they were adding to the map of cases all the time, the pattern becoming clearer by the day…but they hadn’t stopped it yet. And Matt was the one on the frontlines, seeing the effects of this drug night after night, up close and personal.

It was bound to wear him down.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“I’m fine.”

Calina bit back her sigh. She’d been hoping that he’d confide in her. Tell her what had changed. Explain why things were different between them now.

She’d thought everything had gone well at the weekend while meeting his friends, but when he’d returned from work Monday evening he’d been…off. Nothing she could put her finger on. Just distant somehow.

As if a wall had gone up between them.

He didn’t smile at her anymore. He didn’t touch her either. There were none of the careless brushes of his hand against hers that she’d grown so used to. No tap on her arm or her thigh or whatever body part was closest to him when he needed her attention. And he kept strictly to his side of the bed at night now.

Had Foggy or Karen said something to him? Did they not like her? Did they think he was crazy for living with her and helping her?

It was starting to worry her.

Matt said nothing more as he grabbed a change of clothes and closed the bathroom door behind him. The muffled sound of running water filled the apartment moments later as he started the shower.

She could picture him smoothing his hair as he took off his mask, an unconscious habit of his that she’d noticed - and one that she’d prefer he stopped. She liked seeing him rumpled and mussed, especially when he was slightly sweaty after a hard night on the streets.

It made her imagine him looking that way under different circumstances, damp with exertion and hair messed from her fingers as he moved over her-

“Stop it,” she hissed under her breath, trying to get her libido back under control. She flipped her book open and forced herself to concentrate on the page in front of her instead of what was happening in that small, steam-filled bathroom…and instead of what was happening in her fevered imagination.

After a few minutes, it started to work. In fact, she soon became so engrossed in what she was reading that she lost track of time. The next thing she knew, Matt was slumped in the chair next to her, freshly washed and changed, with a beer in hand. 

She snapped the book closed. “Oh, I’m being rude. Sorry.”

Matt shook his head. “Nothing to be sorry for.” He sighed and picked at the label on the bottle. He looked weary. And sad.

And she didn’t know why.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked again.

“Yeah.”

“You’re back early again.”

He shrugged. “It’s just been quiet out there.”

She went to ask him another question, but he cut her off. “What are you reading tonight?”

It was another part of their routine. He would ask about her latest book, and she would read a couple of chapters to him. Which usually sent him to sleep. 

She still wasn’t sure that was the compliment he said it was.

His question tonight didn’t feel like part of their normal script - it felt like a deflection. But she answered anyway. “It’s a book of poems by Emily Dickinson.”

“Poetry’s new.”

“Yeah, I thought I would try it.”

“And?”

“I really like it.” She flipped open the page that she’d bookmarked. “Listen to this:

‘Love is anterior to life;

posterior to death.

Initial of creation,

and the exponent of breath.’"

She sighed as she finished reciting the words. "Isn’t that beautiful?”

“Hmm,” was the only reply.

“She writes a lot about death, but I prefer this one. I just find it amazing how she captures the enormity of love with just a few short phrases. How we’re born into it, and how its as instinctual as breathing. And the fact that it persists even after we die.” Though Calina struggled with the ‘instinctual’ part. That implied that it was easy to love. Easy to recognise when you loved, and were loved in return.

And that wasn’t her experience.

Because she thought she might be in love with Matt…but she wasn’t certain.

Her feelings had evolved so gradually - from curious interest, to attraction, to a deep caring friendship - that she wasn’t sure if she’d taken that last step into love.

It didn’t feel instinctual.

It felt confusing as hell.

It was the reason why she’d ordered a bunch of poetry books online. She thought if she could read about love, repeat the words of passion and longing out loud, dissect the meaning behind the phrases and find the hidden subtext, she’d get more of a handle on her feelings.

But she was discovering that she couldn’t research her way to the truth when it came to something as intangible and illogical as love.

And she had no one to talk to about it, either. That was the frustrating thing. The other Widows would be just as lost as she was. And she was staying clear of her neighbour, Alma, until the threat against her was neutralised - she didn’t want to put the elderly woman at risk.

She had no one in her life she could talk to about her feelings…except the man she was feeling those feelings for.

She bit her lip as she studied him, slouched in the chair next to hers. Maybe she could ask him…

He didn’t have to know the context, after all. It could be an innocent question, sparked by the poem she’d just read...

“Matt?”

“Hmmm?” he replied again. His eyes were closed and his head rested against the back of the chair, gifting her his profile. His strong jaw was shaded with stubble, heavier than normal. She liked him like this - a little rough around the edges - and she wondered what it would feel like to scratch her fingers through his beard…

But then he licked his lips and she forgot all about his facial hair.

She loved his lips.

She loved the shape they stretched into when he smiled. She loved the way they parted when he was taking in the scents and smells around him. And she loved the way they looked now, pressed together, with the curled upper lip slightly overlapping the lower one.

She loved every facet of his face. And his arms, and his hands, and his thighs…

Did that mean she was in love? Or merely attracted to him physically?

“Calina?”

“Yeah?”

He opened his eyes and tilted his head towards her. “Were you gonna say something…?”

“Oh, sorry.” She shook her head to clear it. Then tried to make her voice sound light and uncaring as she broached her question. “Have you, um, ever been in love?”

Matt jerked, the beer in his bottle almost sloshing out of the neck as a panicked, stricken look came over his face. Calina bit her lip again and wished she could claw back the words and swallow them down where he’d never hear them.

Because his reaction spoke volumes.

And she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the story behind it.

“S-sorry,” Calina stammered. “Forget I asked.” She jumped to her feet and hugged the book to her chest. “I’m going to bed. Goodnight, Matt."

“Goodnight, Calina.”

His reply was a monotone. Distant and lifeless. 

And she worried that her stupid question had driven them apart even more.

 ———

 Matt glanced up at the sky as a rumble of thunder unfurled through the city. The first droplets of rain fell moments later and he let out a hollow laugh. 

Perfect.

This whole week had been a shit-show, so of course a thunderstorm was the perfect way to cap it off. 

He slowed his jog across the rooftop, then stopped altogether as the droplets turned into a torrential downpour. Luckily the building he was on was one of the new upmarket residential apartment blocks and it came with a rooftop greenhouse. Taking shelter inside the glass structure, surrounded by the heady scents of night-blooming flowers, Matt reflected on why his week had sucked so much.

It had all started with his fight with Foggy on Monday. 

Ever since then, he’d been distracted. And morose. He’d been short with Karen at work; he’d barely spoken two words to Foggy, and he knew his closed-off demeanour was worrying Calina. But he just couldn’t seem to snap out of it.

He was too busy wrestling with his unresolved feelings over Elektra…and Foggy’s hard truths about his relationship with her.

Not that they were truths.

Not entirely.

Matt could admit that in the months since Elektra’s death he’d overlooked some of the more troublesome aspects of their relationship - and of Elektra’s personality. Foggy had a point about that.

And maybe…maybe he had a point about her not being his soulmate.

Growing up the way he had, he’d never been exposed to a healthy, loving relationship. As a kid, he’d had no frame of reference for what romantic love was supposed to be. So, subconsciously, he’d created his own idea of what it meant:

Acceptance.

Even before his accident, he’d struggled to fit in. He was different from all the other kids in the neighbourhood - he was the boy without a mom. The know-it-all who was smarter than everyone else in school. And after he lost his sight, he became visibly different. Uncomfortably, noticeably different, with his glasses and his cane and his braille textbooks.

Then he became an orphan, which alienated him even more. And as he started to wrestle with the growing anger and darkness within him, it made him feel even more disparate from the people around him.

It made him think that he’d never find someone who could understand him.

And then Elektra had exploded into his life, bringing excitement and danger with her. She had seen that darkness within him and accepted it. She had accepted him. She knew his true nature, she knew his secrets and the violence he carried in his soul and she’d accepted him.

It was no wonder he fell for her as quickly and as thoroughly as he did.

It was no wonder that finally being understood and free to be himself made him blind to the more destructive aspects of their relationship.

Because Foggy was right about that too - she had loved the darkness in him more than the light. She did bring out his more selfish and self-destructive tendencies. And she’d never understood his need to help others and show them mercy. She saw it as a weakness, and judged him for it.

So maybe she wasn’t as accepting of him as he’d always believed.

Which meant maybe…she hadn’t been his soulmate.

But he had loved her. For years and years he’d loved her.

She’d been his first love, his first heartbreak, the one that got away, and the one he’d lost.

Twice.

He was right to still be grieving that.

Or maybe…maybe, it was more the idea of Elektra that he was grieving.

It felt disloyal to think that. Like a betrayal of the woman he’d loved. But Matt forced himself to explore the concept further. It felt like he was making a break through after a week of going round and round in circles.

Did he grieve the loss of Elektra? Or the chance of being with someone who knew him so completely and accepted all the facets of his soul - the light and the dark?

He’d thought he’d found that with Elektra, but she’d struggled with his need - his drive - to make a difference in the city.

For a time he’d thought he’d found it with Karen. But she struggled with his need to be Daredevil. She had never fully accepted that Daredevil was a part of him - not simply a mask and a suit that he could abandon at will.

Calina seemed to understand that.

She accepted his need to be Daredevil. And she shared his desire to make a difference in the world. To help make it a better place.

She was kind and caring, and smart and funny. Being with her made him feel safe, and at peace. She calmed the devil in his soul without ever trying to tame it or wish it away.

She made him happy.

So why had he been pushing her away all this time?

Matt sighed. He didn’t have the energy to figure that out tonight. One life-altering revelation was enough.

And that’s what it felt like. 

Trapped inside the rooftop garden, with the rain battering the glass walls and the wind howling through the concrete streets around him, Matt finally acknowledged that Foggy had been right after all.

Elektra wasn’t his soulmate.

She never had been.

 ———

 When he returned to the apartment an hour later it felt…different…with none of the warmth or welcome he’d gotten used to over the past couple of weeks. Calina wasn’t waiting for him in her armchair, book in hand and a soft song playing in the background. When he descended the stairs - making more noise than usual thanks to his water-logged boots squelching against the wooden steps - she didn’t call out a greeting. 

He could still hear her slow and steady heartbeat echoing through the apartment - and it was the only thing holding his panic at bay.

She was still here. She hadn’t left him. His coldness towards her hadn’t completely ruined things between them. But it had obviously had an effect.

He changed out of his gear quickly and crept into the bedroom. She was lying on her side, facing away from him.

Awake. But not talking.

Shit.

“Calina?” he whispered.

“Yes?” she responded, her voice flat.

Fuck.

He crawled into his side of the bed and she made a move to roll over, to give him her back again, but he stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Wait.”

“What is it, Matt? I’m tired.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault that I can’t seem to fall asleep without you.” She sounded bitter. As if she resented it - when he’d started to like the fact that they needed each other to find peace at the end of the day.

“Not about that,” he clarified. “I’m sorry for acting like an asshole this week.”

She sighed and settled back on her side, facing him. “You were kind of an asshole.”

“I know. And I’m sorry.”

“What was going on with you?”

“I was…working through some stuff. But its done now.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

He could hear her nodding, the fine strands of her hair rustling softly against the pillowcase. But he still got the feeling she was upset. He held out the gift he’d brought home for her. “Peace offering?”

“What is it?” she asked holding out her hand, and he realised the room must have been pitch black to her.

“Just something I picked up tonight,” he answered. He took her hand and guided her fingers around the stem of the flower he’d stolen from the rooftop garden. He didn’t know what kind it was was, but its scent reminded him of her. And the large velvety petals were as soft as her skin.

He heard her faint gasp as she realised what she was holding. “You brought me flowers?”

“Well, flower - singular. And it might be a bit worse for wear after the journey home.”

She took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet fragrance. Then let out a giggle.

“What is it?” he asked, his heart lightening at the sound of her laughter.

“I was just imagining you in your scary Daredevil suit cradling a flower as you leapt over the rooftops.”

He laughed at the image - it wasn’t far from the truth.

“I hope no one saw you, or your badass reputation will be toast,” she joked, a smile in her voice.

He didn’t care if the whole world saw him.

It would be worth it, to make her happy.

————–

Chapter 6

Taglist: @hollandorks, @yanna-banana, @stilldreaming666, @tearosearts-blog @chezagnes, @freckledbabyyy, @acharliecoxedfan​,

If you’d like to be added, let me know!

[jiabeewrites]

Avengers Gender & Sexuality Headcanons, but cleaned up a bit

hello hello! I revisited my old post, and it was messy af and I don't really headcanon a lot of these anymore. SO I PRESENT TO YOU:

The Avengers Being Gay As Fuck

STEEB ROGER ROGER || CAPTAIN AMERICA - ohhhhh boy... - bro is kinda not up to speed with how ✨🏳‍🌈 the gays 🏳‍🌈✨ are treated nowadays - so peter decides to teach him - and at first, he's kinda confused, esp about trans people - because hello, he was born in the fourties - it's kinda non-realistic to expect him to snap to reality just like that - anyhoo, peter ain't having the "how tf do trans people work" bullshit - he, like any good gen z kid would do, creates a shitty powerpoint presentation - after two full fucking hours of explanation, steve starts to get it - he still slips up sometimes... - but he tries his fucking best and honestly that's all we can ask of him - i don't really see steve labeling himself, but if you asked, he'd probably just steer the conversation away from that topic - would still use he/him - fuck that was long

TONY STARK || TIN CAN IRON MAN - bro has fucked and been fucked, taken and given head - by both men and women - cmon. there's no way that this billionaire playboy isn't fruity - pansexual, doesn't care about the gender of the person he loves - he's either in a poly relationship with pepper and rhodey or enemies-to-lovers with a certain stephen strange - he/him - funds the annual manhattan pride - qpr with rhodey

BRUCE BANNER || JOLLY GREEN GIANT - oh poor child - i feel like he is not one for sex - like bro practically radiates aroace energy - doesn't really feel the need for gender conformity. gender is an unknown subject and he doesn't like to meddle with it. end of story - pretty sure he's agender - i feel like he wouldn't care what pronouns are used, but if asked, i think he would answer he/they - bro is a triple a battery fr - prefers to be adressed as dr. banner or just banner

NATASHA ROMANOFF || SCARY ASSASSIN LADY - she/her. nuff said. - asexual. i will die on this hill - the red room taught her to use her body to get what she wants - but she never really wanted that - coughseggscough - i wanna say she's demiromantic & bi - clint is her biggest supporter - started the ace avengers club 🍇🐘👻🐈‍⬛

CLINT BARTON || LEGOLAS - i really can't see a queer clint. i can't - i also don't really see him being that one overinvested ally - he/him, straight, cishetallo - sorry :(

THOR ODINSON || THAT ONE THUNDER DUDE - he comes from asgard, where nobody really sees being queer as different - so when he comes to earth........just imagine his surprise when he finds out about homophobia - he found out when some dudebro was yelling at a girl who seemed like she wanted nothing to do with him - another girl was with them, and she looked like she wanted to kill the guy - thor was confusion - he asked what was going on, and the dudebro said that he caught his sister on a date with another girl - yknow, expecting thor to lash out at the girl - but thor was the exact opposite - he grinned, and congratulated the two on their relationship - WLW FOR THE WIN!! - dudebro started going off on a homophobic rampage - one glare from thor and he nearly shit his pants - and THAT is where thor got his title as protector of lesbians - he/him - tried using thunder based pronouns once but decided it wasn't for him - unlabeled. he thinks human labels are weird

JAMES RHODEY RHODES || WAR MACHINE - is he/him - gay as fucking hell oh my god - literally so gay - GAY MAN OVER HERE - k im done - i'm nearly 100% sure he's graysexual. doesn't really care for sex but if his partner(s) really want it...well, he loves them - probably has to steer tony away from fans all the time at pride - i'm also 100% sure he's down for polyamory. there's too much love for just one person in his heart - qpr with tony

PETER PARKER || SPOODERMAN - TRANS PETER TRANS PETER TRANS PETER!!!!!! - 🏳‍⚧🏳‍⚧🏳‍⚧🏳‍⚧🏳‍⚧🏳‍⚧🏳‍⚧🏳‍⚧🏳‍⚧🏳‍⚧🏳‍⚧🏳‍⚧🏳‍⚧🏳‍⚧🏳‍⚧🏳‍⚧🏳‍⚧🏳‍⚧🏳‍⚧🏳‍⚧🏳‍⚧ - i know it's a really common tumblr headcanon but i FIRMLY support it! FTM - 60% sure that flash bullies peter because he's trans - i mean like it's more believeable than peter being a nerd - prob uses he/him - comes out to tony first, tony buys peter his first binder - may finds out next and she's just so happy. peter asks for name suggestions and she nearly cries - that's how he got his name :) - this kid forgets to take off his binder so often omg - like ned and mj and may MUST REMIND HIM or he'll forget - i feel like he'd be asexual but sex-neutral - doesn't care for it - bi. bi peter parker.

MICHELLE JONES || EMJAY - is enby 💛🤍💜🖤 - ain't no way she's a girl. like ain't no way - uses she/they if asked, but doesn't really give a fuck about pronouns - bisexual with a pref for gals. callin it now

NED LEEDS || NEDANIEL - pretty sure he uses he/they because he like the pronouns - thought that they/them was cool and just decided to use it :D - sweet boi, supports mj and peter sm - buys them pride flags ✨🏳‍🌈✨ - ned literally radiates aroallo energy like cmon - CMON - aroallos are so cool and sexy actually

LOKI LAUFEYSON || LOW KEY LMAO IM SO FUNNY - is genderfluid 💖🤍💜🖤💙 - like this isn't even headcanon fuck off - will use any and all pronouns, at any given time - idk...maybe it's just me but i'm getting MASSIVE asexual vibes - probably sex positive ace - like slay queen - panromantic. like do i even need to explain this

BUCKY BARNES || BUCKET - i will die on they/them bucky hill - and you will see my corpse there - and you will know i was right - unlabeled. doesn't fully understand themself rn, labels will probably make it worse - sam is a huge part of bucky's queer journey - probably uses peter as a queer encyclopedia

SAM WILSON || CHICKEN MAN - gay as freaking hell omfg - that is HOMOSEXUAL MAN RIGHT THERE - he/him - takes bucky to their first pride parade - queer legend - ✨🏳‍🌈✨

VISION || ROBOT MAN - is undecided on gender for now - decides to just use he/him while he figures everything out - i think he figures out that he's asexual real fast. like sex-repulsed - why humans would ever want to have intercourse is beyond him - same, girl, same - but he's definitely omniromantic. he does experience love, albeit a little differently than the rest of society - don't we all...

WANDA MAXIMOFF || WITCHY BITCHY - found out she was a lesbian after a failed date with vision - neither of them felt the attraction that they had before - so yes. gay. sapphic. wlw. - i hate the term but i feel like she would be a lipstick lesbian until she falls for a butch - she/her - has girl nights with her twin - hmm gay - ❤️🧡🤍💖💜

PIETRO MAXIMOFF || SPEEDY BITCHY - they/he/she - genderfluid, is particular about pronouns - like ik people don't really headcanon it but... - cmon. pietro is LIQUID GENDER. - (this also probably stems from my belief that every single fucking speedster is genderfluid no matter what fandom) - sees a pretty dress? will buy two. one for them and one for wanda - he really does slay stilettos tho - i think she's probably gay (mlm) - stfu pietro can be a gay man if they want to - fuck you

T'CHALLA || CATMAN - gay. GAY - he/they icon - wakanda is a safe place for EVERYONE - besides, all the dora milaje are wlw - probably homosexual, like what else would he be - nakia? 99% sure nakia is trans and they're in a qpr - AROACE NAKIA AROACE NAKIA - *aroaces every single character* - fuck yeah gay t'challa

SHURI || GENIUS GIRL - she/xe - sapphic asexual - shuri x riri is the hill i will die on - leaning towards women and fem aligned genders - started first wakandan pride parade - i'm 99% sure she officiated ayo & aneka's wedding - change my mind

STEPHEN STRANGE || DR WIZARD - agender, doesn't see the point in gender most of the time, so they/them/he/him - believes there are three sexes but an infinite amount of genders - demiromantic, demisexual - fight me - is most likely gay 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈 - had a qpr with christine before the incident

🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

{\__/} ( • . •) / >🏳‍🌈

HAPPY LESBIAN VISIBILITY WEEK!

[magicalbats]

Hi Bats! I’m fairly new to reading your fics, but I just wanted to let you know that ur kinktober zhongli fic has been rotting my brain since i read it.

I’m wondering if you plan on making any additional content for that au, i remember reading that you would at some point so i believe that answers that, but i would absolutely love it if you could give us some little snippets of how those two would act towards each other after the fact? i feel like the bunny adeptus would be fairly skittish, but im sure Zhongli wouldn’t let her skamper off too far from his side!

Hiiiii, I’m so happy to have you here Explodo! I hope you enjoy your stay! lol

Okay, so. Yes. I do have tentative plans to revisit Zhongli and the bunny reader. I think there was a lot of potential in the dynamic which I’d love to further explore! I’m for sure seeing his hoarding instincts come out and he gets way more overbearing about everything, especially in the way he communicates with her. Close proximity, never too far out of sight, personally taking her education into his own hands, if you catch my drift. 🌚 I actually outlined a fic before I came back to tumblr with an undecided adeptus coming to Liyue Harbor and basically finding herself ingratiated to him so I was thinking about tweaking that a bit to kind of make the jump from the Morax we saw in the Kinktober fic to present day, post retirement Zhongli. I was also considering doing something with Xiao, since he was in a sense the catalyst for that exchange and I do so love a good threesome. xkekdkdjdnd

I haven’t quite decided on a game plan going forward yet but let me take this chance to speak more broadly to everyone. It’s definitely been a while since I last posted but I’m finally getting to a good point where I can start writing again! The seasonal fog is starting to peel away now that it’s getting warmer and things have gone back to normal at work too, so I’ve been chipping away at some of my fics for the last week or so. Yes, I still plan to finish my Kinktober prompts. Yes, I’m going to put together a commissions page once I’m settled back in. And YES I’m going to try and get caught up on the birthday fics too. 😭

On one hand I’m frustrated with myself for losing my momentum with everything going on at the end of the year. I promise I understand how frustrating it can be to wait for updates! But on the other I do have obligations offline and I hope my friends and followers can understand that. I’m definitely looking forward to jumping back in though, and I can’t wait to start posting again!

And just to circle back to the topic at hand … 👀 Although I don’t have anything super concrete to give you (particularly since this was originally drafted without the backstory of that Kinktober piece) I can definitely share a snippet of what I wrote! Please don’t mind how messy it is right now btw, this hasn’t gone through any editing. lol

[piecksz]

takemitchy anon hater here

ur so right and whats even more annoying is that he gives a full speech and then suddenly everyone is miraculously okay like 🤨🤨🤨 and tbh he’s so dumb for a 26 yr old man. and in the manga he relies way too much on KIDS and he’s being spoonfed waaaaay too often by them. and sometimes when they fight he’s literally just 🧍🏼 i hate this man frrr like i cant even begin to say how he’s one of the shittiest characters in tr (there are only 2 shitty characters in tr btw he’s one of them)

and yeah he is loyal and some ppl are claiming hes doing his best bc he’s a time leaper like …. sometimes he time leaps and does not know shit on what to do. and i dont wanna spoil u since ur not caught up on the manga but a lot of shit goes down and sometimes u think if all his efforts in time leaping were even worth it cause he shifts his goals from one to another and doesn’t /always/ succeed. and if he does succeed someone is always there to save his ass and not him actually saving someone’s ass like he’s supposed to. anyway im gonna stop here im sorry this became like a fucking essay omg ive been waiting to tell someone abt this but i just know most tr fans are rabid abt me hating the MC (like i’m sorry i find the side characters more interesting? smh) and yeah i was so relieved u found him irritating and annoying, im sorry to dump this all on u as well, feel free to ignore this and im gonna stop here so i dont spoil u anyway ily and i hope ur taking enough rests <33

HDHDHDHDHDHHDH NO DON’T APOLOGIZE HONESTLY I WILL VINDICATE YOUR THOUGHTS

i also think because everyone in toman is a lot cooler than he is, he just looks exceptionally lame in comparison, and i feel like maybe i’ve just been spoiled by animes where a character starts off really weak in the beginning but then by the end of the season their growth is really obvious BUT WHEN I WAS ON EPISODE LIKE 11 AND HE WAS STILL GETTING HIS ASS FOLDED LIKE A CREPE I WAS LIKE 😟 no way IDK MAYBE ITS MEANT TO BE REALISTIC BUT I DO LIKE AN OP MOMENT EVERY ONCE IN A WHILE

I DO KINDA FEEL BAD THOUGH BECAUSE ATP IM JUST INVESTED BC OF THE REST OF THE GANG TAKEMITCHY IS REALLY JUST.....THERE

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

notoriously yours | jay park

✰ summary: jay park is a rich kid. it’s safe to say he has everything every broke college student on his campus could dream of and more. but the one thing he doesn’t have, which money definitely can’t buy, is a girlfriend. and his friends won’t see of it. literally.

so what happens when his friends bet him to date someone for more than three months? what happens when jay decides that fake-dating someone would be easier than actual dating (because god forbid Jay–the campus’ notoriously known fuckboy–decides to commit to something once in his life)?

and what happens when that someone is you, his childhood best friend he hasn’t spoken to in years..who has absolutely no interest in being in his life anymore?

✰ pairing: jay park x y/n [ft. members of enha]

✰ genre: fluff, comedy, angst | fakedating!au, college!au, childhoodbestfriends!au, (kinda) e2l!au

✰ warnings: cursing, nothing suggestive but jay's a fuckboy so slightly suggestive themes, mentions of parental neglect/leaving, it's hella long (and i thought my last fic was long)

✰ wc: 14.7k (how did i get it this long oh lord)

✰ author's note: picture creds go to original owners/editors! peep that edit of jay that lowkey inspired this entire fic 👀also this took me so, so long bc i lost motivation half way thru and bc college is a thing,,,so i honestly don't know how to feel abt it so pls bare with me :')))) ALSO the dividers are weird bc idk how to add more than 10 pics for the dividers so pls excuse those ٩(× ×)۶i hope u guys enjoy!! <333

⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺

Jay Park is a rich kid.

Jay Park has enough to buy every textbook he needs for his courses without having to look up the free versions online. Jay Park has enough to bribe his professors to let him pass every class with a perfect 4.0 GPA (but because the boy has morals, he doesn't). Jay Park has enough to afford a car to drive to his furthest class from his dorm building instead of walk or bike like every other college student, meaning he also has enough to afford a parking spot on campus (those things aren't cheap!).

Jay Park walks around your school's campus like he owns the place (and considering the amount of money his family has donated to the school, he practically does), looking like he just walked out of your local coffee shop's newest fashion magazine. His blonde hair is never seen untouched, his attire usually consisting of an undoubtedly high-end all-black fit, accessorized with multiple earrings and rings that probably cost more than all the overpriced textbooks you had to rent out this semester. It's safe to say that everyone knows Jay Park.

Bottom line is, Jay Park has everything.

Well, his friends beg to differ.

In their eyes, Jay Park has everything but a simple factor in the equation of love (or whatever love is to the minds of a couple of 19 year olds): commitment.

So yes, it's safe to say that everyone knows Jay Park. Because everyone knows he's the campus' rich fuckboy. (What's a college fanfic campus without one anyways?)

Jay doesn't go unreminded of this by his friends, to the boy's annoyance.

Jay is aware of this on a Sunday afternoon, in his dorm building's first floor lounge, where he and his said friends are having a study session.

They're doing anything but studying.

In fact, no one has any books out or anything. Not a single laptop in site.

"You don't think it's the slightly bit concerning?" Jake's words are muffled as he continues munching on the fried chicken that he spent majority of this study session debating if he should have it delivered through UberEats or not.

"I really don't, no," Jay shrugs as he continues mindlessly scrolling through his Instagram feed. They're having the same argument conversation that they've revisited multiple times over the course of their friendship, one that Jay has been lectured on too many times for his own good. He thinks his friends could become his new parents if they really tried.

"Look at it this way, okay. You're about to graduate college in a couple of years, into the big world. Like the actual, adult world. And that means you'll have to settle down. Which you can't do when you. have. no. commitment!" Jake punctuates each word with a single clap of his hands, desperate to get his point across.

Jay simply rolls his eyes. He looks over to Sunghoon, who's minding his own business, not bothered by the same topic he's heard over and over again. His eyes tell Jay you're on your own, in response to his blonde-haired friend's look of despair.

Jay thinks that maybe he should get new friends. Yes, that's the only solution here.

"My love life," Jay reaches across the table for a drumstick from the greasy tub seated in Jake's lap until Jake swats his hand away, "is none of your business. Also, ouch."

"Uh, it kinda is. Because of you and your reputation around campus, it kinda affects us, your best friends. How do you think we look, hanging out with the guy who's known to ghost every girl in existence after one night with them? No offense to you," Jake deadpans to him. Jay mentally reconsiders the term best friends.

Tough love. Jay tells himself it's tough love.

"Yes, because every girl totally hates Jake Sim, the teacher assistant of a physics class who volunteers at the pet shelter every Sunday and brings their pet golden retriever to campus every two weeks," Jay rolls his eyes at his Australian friend.

Jake sighs. "Okay, then I'm coming from a place of worry for you."

Jay groans. "Again, none of your business!" This doesn't stop Jake. He comes from good intentions, really, but Jay wants nothing more than to stuff the kid's mouth with some of that chicken to shut him up.

"What are you gonna do if one day you meet someone you like, genuinely like, and you screw yourself over because you've never been in an actual relationship before? A real, committed one. Like one that lasts at least three months."

"You don't think I can last three months in a relationship?" Jay questions the boy currently taunting him.

"Honestly? No. What's the longest relationship you've been in?" Jake cocks an eyebrow at his friend across from him.

One month and two weeks. But Jay's smart enough to not say that out loud.

"I can so last over three months," Jay mutters more to himself than Jake.

Jake laughs at that, pausing to take another bite of the drumstick in his hand. "Jay, I am willing to actually bet you. Bet that you wouldn't be able to." He leans back on the couch, the ball now in Jay's court.

Jay freezes, looking up from his phone, narrowing his eyes at Jake.

"Forget it, Jake. He's not gonna agree even if you offered him money," Sunghoon finally perches from beside him. Well he's not wrong. It's not like Jay is exactly in need of more money, per say.

"What kind of bet are we talking here?"

Sunghoon's right. Jay doesn't need the money, but he does hate being wrong. Even if it's over something as stupid as this matter.

Caught off guard by the blonde's answer, Jake blinks blankly at him and takes a second to think.

"Hmm..what about...what about if you can date someone for at least three months, and I mean an actual, committed relationship, then I'll do all of your physics homework next semester."

Jay's eyes sparkle at that. If there's anything he despises more than commitment, it's physics.

"And if I win, you have to buy all of my textbooks," Jake sits back from the edge of his seat with a smirk lying on his face.

Jay pauses to think about it. I mean, what does he have to lose? A couple hundred dollars over college textbooks? No. Because he just simply won't lose.

And maybe he'll learn what it'll be like to actually be in a committed relationship for once. Maybe he'll finally learn what it's like to actually devote yourself to someone, open up to them. He shivers at the thought. Never mind. He'll warm up to it. Baby steps.

Nonetheless, what could go wrong? Even if he does lose, at least his money would be going somewhere productive––towards his friend's education. Jay was probably gonna use that money on something useless like a blanket that resembles a tortilla (a burrito blanket, he calls it)––something he doesn't necessarily need, but must have, he would argue.

"Fine. Whatever, okay. Deal," he grabs Jake's extended hand in front of him and shakes on it.

Jake's impressively smiling at the boy as Sunghoon lets out a sigh, in disbelief with the two guys he calls his best friends.

Jay concludes that this will be easier than his Introduction to Photography 101 course he took his freshman year. How hard is it to find someone to date the Jay Park? Surely, everyone will be lining up once Jay switches his FaceBook relationship status from "it's complicated" to "single".

Turns out, it's not as easy as his class where all Jay had to do was take pictures of a pretty sunset, slap a VSCO filter on, and call it a day.

He comes to this realization on a Wednesday evening, as he's seated at one of the many study tables lined in the middle of the campus' library, staring down at his phone's dry iMessage app, with his laptop and blank sheets of scratch paper scrambled across the entire table, as an attempt to look half as studious as the other students studying in the facility.

Turns out, being known as the campus' fuckboy who ghosts every girl on campus isn't a good thing when it comes to wanting to find a real relationship.

He comes to this realization after failing to receive a single text back to the many ones he sent out throughout the first half of his day. The ghoster gets ghosted. Oh how the turn tables.

Jay groans dramatically as he tosses his phone on the hard surface of the table, earning himself a harsh shush from the librarian filing books in the aisle beside him.

He sheepishly smiles back as an apology, directing his attention back to his open laptop screen, where his untouched calculus homework stares back at him––his mind preoccupied with the looming threat of Jake's bet. Not that it was threatening in any way, per say, but Jay just hates losing. And from the looks of things, it's safe to say that Jay won't be celebrating any victories anytime soon.

Jay thinks he should just change his identity and just transfer to some boarding school in Switzerland. Yes, that's a much better solution than admitting defeat to Jake.

Jay sighs as he lies his head on the table, figuring he might as well just write the check for Jake's textbooks now. He wonders how he got here in the first place. Not how he got into the bet, and definitely not how he's sitting in the middle of the library, having yet to start his calculus homework due at 11:59PM tonight (he should really start that).

But no, he wonders how he gained the reputation as the campus' playboy. To be fair, his friends (mainly Jake), are constantly reminding him of his notorious habits. But how did they come a habit in the first place?

The idea of being in a relationship is nice, sure, but the commitment that comes with it? The idea of being dependent on someone? It's scary, vulnerable, and one that Jay can't picture for himself.

Maybe some people just aren't meant to be paired. Maybe some people, like Jay, like being independent and are meant to stay that way.

But Jay also likes affection. He likes the fleeting, warm feeling he gets every time he finds himself under someone's sheets. He likes the short-lived comfort he receives from someone else's touch, even though he knows it's going to cease to exist the second he steps out of those bedroom's doors. He just likes affection, simple as that.

That and he's a 19 year old teenage boy with needs, what did you expect?

And so what if he likes the idea of affection minus commitment? Is that so bad? Apparently it is, to people like his friends and the entirety of his school's campus, at least.

At this rate, he might as well pay someone to date him.

Wait. Jay lifts his head off the table's surface in realization.

He might as well pay someone to date him.

There's no harm in that, is there?

He wouldn't have to endure through an endless amount of dates to find someone he clicks with, then continue going on dates with said clicked person, all while trying to develop an actual, serious relationship.

He'll win the bet, get his physics homework done for an entire semester, and some lucky girl out there will be making profit for the small price of hanging out with Jay Park for three months.

And lucky for him, Jay knows the perfect candidate for this scheme.

Simple as that.

Just as long as said perfect candidate says yes.

And as long as Jake and Sunghoon don't find out. Or else Jay might really have to move to Switzerland after all.

You love your friends, you do.

Hana and Heeseung have been there for you when others haven't––they were by your side when you knew no one entering high school, and they were still by your side when you were all graduating said high school. Needless to say, you're eternally grateful for friends like them.

But right now, in this moment––with you seated in the middle of the campus' library, trying to write your essay, as your two friends blabber on and on about the most recent gossip across from you––your two friends could be your villain origin story.

But again, you love your friends, you do. So you don't have the heart to tell them to leave. You've managed to naturally tune out most of the conversation, anyways, for this––your friends coming to hang out while you're trying to study––is no rare occurrence by any means.

"Oh yeah, Jay Park texted me last night."

You hate how your brain's filter suddenly turns off at Hana's words.

You hate how your ears catch the sudden mention of Jay Park's name.

You hate how the thought of Jay Park gets to even occupy a single brain cell of yours.

You hate how you even know who Jay Park is. Well, knew.

Past tense. Because up until eighth grade––when Jay decided to just suddenly pretend you didn't exist––he was attached to you like a koala to a eucalyptus tree.

And if you had asked past Y/N, ideally, Jay would've never left your side. Ideally, he would've never left you to fend for yourself when entering high school. Ideally, he would've stayed your best friend through out all four years of high school and ideally, you would've eventually told him how you really felt about him after growing up with him all your life. And maybe it would've lead to a completely different story. But for the sake of this fic, we don't live in an ideal world.

So yes, if it wasn't for his attendance at the very same university as you, you would've forgotten about the boy who brought you the painful memories of your childhood.

And since the universe clearly doesn't work in your favor, avoiding Jay Park's existence like he's the plague would have to suffice. And it works.

For the most part.

Until some people, bring him up uninvited into your conversation. Like now, for example.

"When was the last time you guys talked anyways?" Heeseung mindlessly asks as he reaches across the table to grab one of the many snacks you usually bring to your study sessions.

"Uh..like a few weeks ago. Give or take. Whenever you threw your house party. Can't say there was much talking involved however," she teasingly says with a giggle and wiggle of her brows.

Heeseung's rolling his eyes as you scoff and chuck a nearby crumpled piece of paper that was once one of your many essay drafts at her.

She bats it away right as it's about to hit her face as she laughs. "Doesn't matter anyways. He ghosted me the next morning, as he does with everyone else. Telling you this now," she extends a finger right at you, "stay away from Jay Park. That kid's just bad news."

You nod in response, mentally telling her she has nothing to worry about.

Been there, done that.

College. Ah yes, the very concept of spending four years of your life imprisoned on a campus where you'll be tearing your hair out from stress and spending all your life's savings just for a laminated sheet of paper with a golden stamp at the end of it all. We live in a society.

Because of said college, and all the weight that comes along with it, you had adapted a strict daily schedule in order to not completely lose your mind. It's a simple schedule really, one of a typical college student who's just trying to get by everyday with as little mental breakdowns as possible.

Wake up, get ready, go to class, go to the library to do your homework, walk all the way across campus to get back to your dorm, shower, then sleep. Oh and eat, of course. And maybe if time permits, be an actual social being and socialize.

It's gotten you this far into the college life without dropping out so, you conclude, you must be doing something right.

Sometimes, if you're feeling nice to yourself, you'll tweak the schedule a bit to fit in some exceptions. Maybe squeeze in a little trip to the bubble tea shop that's on the other side of campus, or maybe get dinner at that one dining hall that you don't usually go to because of the unncessarily long lines (but because they serve ice cream, you go anyways). It doesn't matter what the exception is, you still plan it out to fit into your schedule somehow. Everything is planned out.

Sometimes, however, the universe disagrees with your schedule, to your demise. Such as today, for example.

Because what you didn't expect for today was for a particular blonde-haired boy who you haven't spoken to in almost six years (but who's counting?) to approach your table in the library––a table you were sure no one could find you at, as it was quietly tucked away in the back corner, right next to the Astrophysics shelves. Because who browses the Astrophysics aisle for fun? Actually, maybe Jake Sim would. Anyways.

You definitely didn't anticipate a visit from the boy you've been actively avoiding, so you definitely didn't expect the first words coming out of his mouth when he sees you for the first time in six years to be:

"Fake date me."

You blink up at him.

Yeah, definitely not expected.

But you only let it phase you for a split second, until you feel a slight annoyance beginning to bubble up deep inside of you.

"Wow, hello to you too Jay! It's been what––half a decade? Yeah I've been pretty good, thanks for asking!" The sarcasm is practically dripping off your tongue.

You don't know what runs through Jay's mind, but apparently it isn't common sense––or the ability to read the room. Because next thing you know, he's sliding the chair across from you out from underneath the table and making himself at home.

And he's smiling right at you.

Curse him and his smile.

But no, you're not giving into it.

Not yet, at least.

"What do you want?" You deadpan at him when he makes no sign of making the next move.

"A girlfriend," he deadpans right back at you, as if he was casually telling you what he wanted for dinner. As if you two were close-knit friends that could approach one another without any proper greeting. As if you two had kept your friendship all these years. As if you two even had a role in each other's lives.

"Can't help you there," you scoff, deciding to not even question his lack of manners on top of his uninvited presence.

"Aren't you gonna ask me why?"

"Well gee, seeing that the first few words you decided to say to my face for the first time in forever were a demand, a demand to date you no less, then....no," your monotone voice says as you keep your eyes focused on your laptop screen, not daring to look at the boy across from you.

In the Introduction to Sociology course you took your freshmen year, you had learned of one important term: interactional vandalism. Textbook definition being: "ignoring signals of disinterest in a conversation, leading it to an offense."

Your definition being: "are you oblivious or just plan dumb, read the room!"

This was interactional vandalism, alright. Whether Jay's truly oblivious or just trying to annoy you until your head explodes (it's really the former, but you're convinced it's the latter), he takes your signals of disinterest and tosses it right out of his head to continue the conversation.

"I'm stuck in this stupid bet with Jake--do you remember him? He bet me that I couldn't date someone for more than three months and I figured having someone fake date me would be easier than actually dating someone, right? That's where you come into the equation," he proposes as he leans back in his chair, as if he had just finished a sales pitch to a prospective customer looking to buy a car.

You couldn't believe this. You're 98% sure this has got to be a prank. You're mentally preparing for a camera crew to jump out from in-between the library's aisles any moment now and scream into your ears that you've just been punk'd!

The remaining 2% of you, however, wouldn't put it past the two boys to get themselves in such a situation. The last memory you had of Jay and his friends were pretty much their childish selves back in middle school. And by looking at the current scene unfolding in front of you...it's needless to say they haven't changed much.

"Again, can't help you there. Ask one of the many girlfriends I thought you had." Ouch.

"But Y/N, you've known me all your life--"

"Up until you dropped me a few years ago but sure, let's call it that."

"--and convincing other people is gonna make me look--"

"--desperate? Yeah."

"C'mon, Y/N. What do you have to lose anyways?"

"Uh..my dignity? Pride? Self-respect? Sorry Jay, not happening," you turn your attention back to your unwritten essay in front of you, mentally checking out of this conversation. This would be a good time for that camera crew to jump out now.

"Look, no one else is gonna do it, Y/N." Jay has always been stubborn, you suppose. But so are you.

"Yeah, because you've managed to push every being of the opposite gender away from you. You gave yourself this reputation in the first place," you give it to him straight. It's not like you had a relationship with him to uphold anyways––Jay himself broke that friendship years ago.

Jay hates that you're right.

You're always right. He remembers how he used to always go to you for advice and clarity on the world's biggest problems. Granted, the world's biggest problems to him at the time equated to what he should dress up as for the fifth grade Halloween party, but still. A tough decision, for the mind of a ten-year-old.

You abruptly stop typing and begin putting your laptop and textbooks away as you huff in frustration. There's no point in trying to get your work done now. The longer you stay arguing with Jay, the bigger your headache gets. The longer he continues to occupy any part of your brain, the bigger your headache gets.

Getting up from your seat, packed and ready to slam your head into your pillow, you turn to the blonde one last time.

"Look Jay. We went on our separate ways years ago. If you weren't so notoriously known around campus and my friends would stop talking about you, I would've long forgotten you. I'm sorry you're in this situation, really. If I were you, I'd just tell Jake I can't do it. Or don't, I can't tell you what to do. Just don't get some innocent girl involved in whatever stunt of yours this is."

Jay stares at you, mouth agape, as you find your way out of the library and through the main doors. By the time he comes back to his senses, he realizes how he looks plain stupid––standing in the middle of the library, the look on his face screaming befuddlement, to say the least. Jay quickly makes his way out of the building, in hopes of convincing you one last time.

Jay catches sight of your figure already half-way down the walkway that connects the library to the main quad of your school's campus. Geez, you walk fast.

Not fast enough to outrun Jay's legs, however. If Jay running after you through the middle of campus in order to convince you to fake date him doesn't show how desperate he is to win this bet, I don't know what will.

"Wait, Y/N!"

You groan to yourself before turning to face the boy who can't seem to take a hint and leave you alone. You stare at his out-of-breath state as he heaves up and down from the slight jog he had to endure to get to where you are. If you're humored by him chasing after you, you do a good job of hiding it.

He meets your unimpressed state before stating his final proposition: "I'll pay you. Five hundred dollars."

You nearly stop breathing.

Now this catches your attention––after all, you're but a broke college student who's just trying to survive. And preferably not by feeding yourself instant ramen cups every night.

And so, naturally, you begin rethinking about the opportunity presented in front of you. You narrow your eyes at the boy as you weigh your options.

The first problem being, it's Jay Park––the bane of your very existence. You spent the last few years of your life pretending he didn't exist...for good reason. Not only did he do you dirty when you were merely a couple of 13-year-olds, but you just didn't want to be involved with someone like him. Someone known for his nature, someone who left your own current best friend ghosted. And not that Hana herself would care, for she has called herself the "female Jay Park", but you're sure this would be breaking some rule in the girl code handbook. Plus, if you agree to this, you'd be betraying 13-year-old Y/N, the one who decided to never speak to nor think of Jay Park again––which by now you've failed, but you get the gist.

Second problem being, three months is a long time. Three months is practically the rest of this semester, and did you really want to spend the rest of the semester tied down to the label of being Jay Park's girlfriend? There would have to be some negative connotations that came along with that title, right? No offense to Jay, but being his first girlfriend since, what, high school could make you come off as..naive, for lack of a better term. As if the only person you could settle for was Jay Park. As if you barely had any standards for yourself. Again, no offense to Jay.

Needless to say, if your school's debate club had to argue on why you shouldn't be doing this, you're sure the negating side could win with these two reasons alone.

But before you're rejecting the boy currently standing in front of you one last time, you find yourself mentally listing rebuttals.

First of all, you'd be getting paid. And again, you're merely but a college student living the stereotypical broke college student life––burdened by the costs of tuition, textbooks, and midnight McDonalds runs for when you're out of aforementioned instant ramen cups. Five hundred dollars could provide you with more than enough chicken McNuggets to last you the semester, and maybe some more to treat yourself to an online shopping spree.

Second of all, it's not like you were going to do anything better with your next three months anyways. It's safe to say you were too busy being a diligent student to actually look for anyone to date, per say. And if anything, having a fake boyfriend might actually be helpful in your case. Your mom would be off your ass about how you're still single, for one. And two, your friends (though it's really just Heeseung) would stop trying to hook you up on blind dates with guys that you would choose Jay Park over any day (and that really says something).

Third of all, it's Jay Park. As much as you despise the kid, you still know him. He's not a complete stranger to you, no matter how much you try to deny it. It could be worse, it could be a complete rando asking you to date him. At least you two have some sort of history, which would take care of the typical small talk and getting to know each other bit of this equation. And truth be told, you'd be lying to yourself if you said you weren't a tad bit satisfied by the fact that Jay chose you, of all people, to pull off this stunt with him. You don't know if it's the nostalgia of your childhood memories rushing back to you, but it reminds you of the endless schemes you two used to plan behind your parents' backs all the time. Granted, your childhood schemes––such as the both of you faking sickness so you could skip school together––don't even fall close to being in a fake relationship with one another, but still. It's the thought that counts.

All of those reasons plus, Jay isn't the worst to look at. He may have a spoiled reputation, but at least he has his looks going for him, you'll give him that (you're still secretly wondering when and how did he get his glow up, but don't tell him that).

And so by the guidelines of a college student's logic that states the pros outweigh the cons, you come to the overarching conclusion that maybe, this won't be so awful after all.

"Five hundred?" You ask, just for clarification. Jay's immediately nodding at your words. You continue to ponder on your thoughts as he stares at you hopefully.

The silent atmosphere of your campus heightens the tension so much, you swear you're in one of those overdramatic pausing scenes that occur too many times in k-dramas.

You sigh, then nod.

"Okay," you're internally praying that you won't regret this decision. "I'm in."

The next time you see Jay is at 12:17PM on a Friday afternoon, as you're exiting the doors of the lecture building that's home to your awfully long Capitalism in the Western World class.

You're going down the steps of the building, mentally deciding where and what you're going to treat yourself to for lunch––as the three hour lecture you had just attended drained all the life and energy out of you––when you hear the slight call of your name.

Turning to the source, you're met with a waving Jay, leaning against the passenger's side of his car, parked in front of the lecture hall building you were currently leaving.

Great.

You walk over to where he's casually waiting––he's unaware of all the stares he's attracted from fellow students leaving the same lecture as you. Can you blame them? It's not everyday you see a sleek, black BMW that probably cost more than your tuition pull up in front of your Friday afternoon lecture. It's not everyday you see Jay Park waiting for anyone outside of his said sleek, black BMW that probably cost more than your tuition.

"Hi," you simply let out as you plant yourself in front of him, not sure whether or not to question him why are you here? Surely, he wasn't waiting for you?

"Hi," he smiles down at you. There's a beat of silence. "I was waiting for you."

Bingo.

"Oh. What are you, my chauffeur?" You raise an eyebrow, unimpressed.

"Maybe. I am your boyfriend, after all," he says into the air, loud and clear, as if he wanted people to hear. Well that is the point, you suppose.

But still, all you want to do is smack the smirk right off his face.

Before you have time to put your next question into words, he answers it for you.

"I'm taking you out for lunch," he declares as if you have nothing else planned for the day. Well, to be fair, you didn't have anything else planned for the day. Except for your usual library run. But you figure the library could wait.

"Oh, like on a date?" You raise your eyebrows teasingly at him as you get into the car, Jay holding the door wide open for you. "Is Jay Park treating me to lunch as a date?"

Jay fights the scowl (or is that a smile?) growing on his face as he bends down to meet your eye level from inside the car. "Don't flatter yourself, princess. We've got fake lives to live."

"Call me princess one more time and you won't have a real life to live," you flash him a sarcastic smile and slam the door in his face.

Jay meets his own shocked reflection on the passenger's side window.

Cute.

"When you said you were taking me out to lunch, I expected like...I don't know...the diner on campus. Not whatever this is," you mutter to Jay as the two of you are brought to your table by a waitress at an upscale sushi restaurant, one that is undoubtedly out of your usual budget, but for sure an upgrade from your dining hall's pizza you were planning to have. You should've figured as much, the drive here was a little more than out of the way from campus, and who are you kidding, it's Jay Park you're eating with.

You stare down at your current outfit, which consisted of a hoodie you've owned since your junior year of high school and leggings that you threw on without second thought this morning––because you didn't exactly wake up and decide I'm going to go to a fancy sushi bar for lunch today!

"Why are we here anyways?" You ask him when you're both settled in your seats and the waitress walks away after listing the chef's specials for the day.

"Oh, they have killer dragon rolls here, you have to try it," Jay tells you nonchalantly as his eyes rake the menu in front of him, blocking your view of him.

How dense can one be? Your hand snatches his menu as you stare into his unamused eyes.

"No, Jay. I mean, why are we here? It's not like anyone's around to see us put on a show anyways."

"Oh. I figured," Jay's quick to grab the menu back from out of your hands as he continues, "that we should sit down and establish how exactly we're going to deliver this performance. After all, you're stuck with me for the next three months."

Again, smacking the smirk currently resting on his face would satisfy you beyond relief. Just once.

"If I drop out halfway through, do I still get $250?" You tease, leaning back.

"Ha ha. Funny. No," he narrows his eyes at you from across the table. "It's all or nothing."

You dramatically huff to make a show just for his annoyance.

"Worth a try. But sure, let's solidify this. What's the game plan?" You sit up in your seat, leaning over the table as if the two of you were hosting a secret meeting.

"It's simple really," Jay mirrors your actions, face leaning in close to where yours is hovering over the table. "Just pretend to be deeply in love with me for three months, and try not to actually be charmed by my cunning looks."

If someone gave you five dollars for every time you've already rolled your eyes at him today, you wouldn't even need to be in this deal for the five hundred dollars.

"Wow, smooth. Can I just remind you you're the one paying a girl to be in a fake relationship with you because you're just not competent enough to find an actual girlfriend?" You lean back, arms crossing over your figure.

Jay, unfazed, laughs, tongue briefly hitting the inside of his cheek. "Touché."

Your eyes go back to the menu in front of you as a silence falls over the table. Because you're not a loaded trust fund baby who comes to fancy five-star sushi restaurants for lunch on a daily, you don't recognize half of the entree names on the menu. You spot the dragon roll Jay suggested, but seeing that a basic California roll is less expensive, your natural broke-college-student-instincts figure the California roll shall do.

"Okay, in all seriousness," Jay begins as he puts his menu down. "It's simple really. We'll just go on weekly dates and post cute pictures of each other once in a while and a little after three months, I'll just say it didn't work out. I'll give you the five hundo and boom, we move on with our lives."

It's clear Jay's put some thought into this. Safe to say he's put more effort planning this out than the amount of work he's been putting into his classes. Someone's got their priorities straight.

You're impressed to say the least––you figured Jay would just be the kind to go with the flow and wait for the situation to unfold on its own and maybe blow up into flames. But seeing as he was just as serious about winning this bet as you were with making five hundred dollars, your doubts about this entire situation were slowly withering away.

Don't get it wrong, though, you still despise him. To an extent, at least.

"And don't worry about the dates. I'll pay on your behalf, as the loving, doting boyfriend I am," Jay finishes with a wide, cheesy smile you can't help but return a growing smile back at.

"Well then, as the loving, doting girlfriend I am, I shall gift you coffee, breakfast, all that fun couple stuff, whenever you please. Or maybe unannounced, if I'm feeling nice," you figure you should pitch in as much if he's paying for all your dates. And deep down, you find the idea kinda cute. But don't tell anyone that.

"Wow, look at us. We should become Dispatch's couple of the year already!" Jay exclaims, earning himself a small giggle from you, which pleases him to say the least. He thinks that maybe when this is all over, he'll hopefully make a good friend (well, for the second time) out of it.

And you're thinking that maybe the next three months won't be as bad as you initially had thought.

As the two of you delve deep into a debate about who would be the better significant other to each other, the waitress comes over to take your orders.

And because you're laughing and Jay's brightly smiling at you from across the table, you order the dragon roll.

The second time Jay takes you out––this time he gives you a heads up to get ready––it's at a, once again, high-class steakhouse.

The third time, you insist on the on-campus diner that's popular amongst the student population. Partially because you feel bad for the amount of money he's spent on you (even though he couldn't care less), but mostly because if you have to put on another fancy dress to just eat an overpriced meal that doesn't even fully satisfy your hunger, you might lose your mind.

And by this third time, Jake is aware of this newly blossomed relationship.

"Three dates! I didn't know you had it in you, going on three dates with the same girl!" Jake excitedly exclaims as he jumps into the empty spot on Jay's dorm bed and shoves his phone's screen into Jay's face.

The smaller screen displays Jay's most recent Instagram post: an image of you sitting behind your too-small-to-be-this-expensive-steak and smiling right into Jay's camera––a memory that brings a smile to his face:

~ ~ ~

"C'mon! We said Instagram posts would be a part of the deal! How else can we convince people we're dating?" A pout rests on Jay's face as he stares at you from across the table in the middle of the extravagantly decorated restaurant he picked out for your second date. You remember your eyes bulging out of their own sockets when you saw the "$$$$$" rating Yelp gave the place when you searched it up earlier.

"Okay, okay! One picture," you give in, already slightly annoyed that you were here instead of the comfort of your own bed, where you could be rewatching your favorite Netflix show for the third time. But because you made a deal and because you're desperate for money, you had to follow through––so here you were.

You flash an unconvincing smile to Jay's camera, which doesn't satisfy him, to say the least. "At least pretend you're somewhat enjoying this date," he frowns at you.

You sigh, until a thought crosses your mind and a smile grows on your face. "Only if you get me boba afterwards."

He narrows his eyes at you, but then meets your smile. "Sure, whatever you want. But only because I've been craving some mango milk tea lately."

"You're a fruit milk tea kind of guy? Sorry, but I might have to fake break-up with you," you tease as you take a sip of your overpriced drink to go with your overpriced meal.

Jay scoffs, feigning hurt by placing his hand over his heart. "Ouch. But before you break up with me, let me get this Instagram post in."

"Wow. Your priorities are so straight," you roll your eyes at him, eliciting a cheeky smile from him as he watches you through his held up phone screen.

"3,2,1."

"Hey, I wasn't ready! That was like mid-laugh!" You reach over the table to grab the phone, but not quick enough for him to put his phone back into his pants' pocket.

"Nope, nuh uh," he laughs as you quickly sit back down into your seat, not wanting to cause a scene in an establishment as proper as this one.

"It's fine. It's a good picture, you look cute," he casually lets out, unaware of the blush rising to the surface of your cheeks, thanks to the fact that you were suddenly interested in playing with the left-over food on your plate.

"Jay! Delete it, I'll let you take another one," you whine from your seat, imagining just how bad a candid picture of you could be.

"Ugh, fine. Ever so picky." He playfully rolls his eyes at you as he takes his phone out and opens the camera app as you prepare yourself.

"Okay, how's this?" Jay turns the phone screen to you after he takes a few snaps on his phone.

"I approve," you grin at him as he goes through the pictures himself, unaware of the smile growing on his face.

"Okay now delete the first one," you point your finger at him, narrowing your eyes at him.

"Okay, okay! Bossy," he laughs as he raises in hands in surrender.

When Jay gets home that night, he recovers the image from his Recently Deleted folder, telling himself it's for the sake of the memory.

Obviously.

~ ~ ~

"It's not that big of a deal," Jay mutters from his spot as his eyes go from the Instagram post to his Exile and Belonging in Modern Literature reading that's due tomorrow, bright yellow highlighter in hand. Typically, you'd find the reading buried deep at the bottom of his school backpack. But because Jay ran into you this morning and because he complained to you about the amount of work he's fallen behind on and because you had threatened him to do his work or else you're not going on another date––a fake date that is––with him, he figured he should at least get one reading done and annotated, despite his strong dislike for highlighters (they hurt his eyes, okay?)

What he doesn't know, however, is how your threat was completely full of bluff––but don't tell him that.

"It is so a big deal, for you at least!" Jake hops off the bed and lands on the wooden floors of Jay's dorm room so hard, Jay winces and sends a mental apology to the poor person who lives below him.

Jake suddenly gasps. "I have to meet her, Jay! As your best friend, it's practically mandatory that I meet her."

Jay opens his mouth to protest, but not before Jake interrupts him once again. "Oh! We can bring Sunghoon too, it'll be so fun! The best friends meet the girlfriend."

Jay can't think of anything worst. Jay imagines that bringing you to meet his best friends would just intimidate you out of dating him––fake dating him, that is. Obviously.

He stares at his friend in agony then back at the reading in front of him––the one Jake said he'd come over to help annotate, but the intention completely left Jake's head the second he heard about Jay's recent dating life.

"You don't have to meet her," Jay says pointedly. "Plus, you already know her."

Jake frowns at his friend's excuse. "Yeah, but that was in middle school! This is different."

Jay's hands shuffle through the reading's pages in front of him as he realizes there's no way the two of them are going to finish the assignment at this point. He supposes he'll have to save death by blindness from highlighters for another day and hope you still agree to go out with him.

Jake suddenly gasps in realization.

"Oh my gosh! Childhood best friends turned college sweethearts," Jake says so dreamily, he might as well plaster heart eyes on. Hopeless romantic, this one.

Before Jay can argue, the piercing sound of three loud knocks echo through the small room, followed with a:

"Jay, are you in? It's me!"

Jay stills at the sound of your sweet voice. He whips his head to Jake, who is also frozen in place.

But the widened-eye boy is quick to come to his senses––unfortunately quicker than Jay himself––because the next thing Jay knows, Jake's eyes are lighting up and he's running to the door, ignoring Jay's screaming whispers through this seething teeth that were somewhere along the lines of Jake––stop, I swear to god if you open that door I'm gonna fucking--

"Y/N!" Jake swings the door wide open, revealing an overly excited him and a frozen Jay half-way to the door, as if he was about to grab the very boy welcoming you in. It's as if we're living in a Sims game and the player clicked pause on this very moment.

Jake's eyes are wildly going back and forth between you and your supposed boyfriend, as if he was waiting for Jay to run over and smother you in hugs and kisses...or something couple-y like that. Jay wouldn't know.

"Uh––hi," you're awkwardly standing inside the room now, a relatively large paper brown bag resting in your palms as you look around for a surface to place it on. Jay makes his way to you without a second thought, quickly taking the bag out of your hold.

"You seemed stressed out earlier, so I figured I could bring you some food as a little pick me up. I didn't know what you liked, so I kinda just got a little of everything from the dining hall. Nothing fancy," you're rambling, but smiling so excitedly at him, Jay doesn't know what to say.

Instead, his mouth slightly drops open as he stares at you in awe, mostly because he's not used to being on the receiving end of such spontaneously generous actions––all while Jake's still excitedly looking back and forth between the two of you, as if he was expecting a marriage proposal to come next.

"Oh wow. Thank you. Really," Jay, still touched by your simple act of kindness, softly says as he places the bag on the limited amount of empty space on his desk surface––the rest of it is covered with his untouched textbooks and unfinished assignments. He wonders if you did this out of playing your role or just because you wanted to. He internally hopes it's the latter. "Seriously, you didn't have to do."

"Nah, don't worry. I wanted to," you shrug with such a genuine smile that Jay realizes he actually missed your smile.

Despite having seen you during your brief run-in this morning when you were fetching your morning coffee, Jay realizes he missed you. The two of you haven't been seeing each other recently because of your busy schedule and if Jay didn't realize it before, he's now sure he missed your company and presence around.

Weird.

"Well, you two have fun! Sunghoon needs me for something," Jake suddenly chirps from his place near the front door, halfway through with putting his shoes on already, breaking the comforting silence that fell between the two of you.

Jay frowns. "But you said you were free all da––"

"SUNGHOON IS CALLING BYE!" And before Jay can even register what's happening, Jake's out the door without another word.

"Er..sorry about him, he's...weird," Jay scratches the back of his neck as he returns to his spot on his bed, mentally setting a reminder to yell at Jake later for leaving the two of you alone. Jay doesn't know exactly why, but he's nervous at the fact that you're here in his room. It's not like you two are complete strangers––or whatever you guys were before––anymore. "Good job on your part, though. How'd you know Jake was here?"

"Oh uh, I didn't"," you let out an awkward laugh. "I just felt like doing it."

Heat rushes to Jay's cheeks and he's not sure 1) what this newfound feeling is and 2) how to respond, yet again.

Having expecting you to leave after dropping the food off, Jay's taken by surprise when you take your shoes off and come over to his bed to look at the pile of work he's spread out.

"Is this everything you have to do?" You question the stressed-out boy as you flip through the various assignments, readings, and essays he put off in the past week.

"More or less," he groans. This is no rare occurrence by any means––Jay being behind in his work––but this time, Jay realizes he may actually be in deep shit, considering he has no idea where to begin.

Right as Jay's expecting a scolding from you, he looks up to meet a look of sympathy on your face. "Well, I mean, I'm pretty much done with my day. I can try to help, I recognize some of these readings from last semester."

Jay thinks to himself that the universe has sent him an angel through the form of you.

"Really? Wow, you were't kidding when you said you'd be a good girlfriend," he sends you a surprised look.

"I'm just being nice, Jay. A concept I'm sure you're not familiar with," you remark back at him, causing his forming smile to grow into a laugh.

"I can too be nice! Need I remind you of who's paying you $500, covering all of our dates AND giving you rides to class everyday?" He remarks pointedly at you, a teasing look resting in his eyes as you're reminded of the first of many times he's come to pick you up before class:

~ ~ ~

You're late.

This never happens.

But then again, your life's been a series of unexpected occurrences lately. Such as the fact that you're currently known as Jay Park's girlfriend, for one.

You're scrambling out of bed once you take one look at your phone and realize shit, you're already late for class. Throwing on whatever articles of clothing your eyes land on first, you're already mentally groaning at the fact that you'll have to skip breakfast and run across your campus to get to said class.

Curse your professor for hosting her lecture at the furthest possible building away from your dorm. Curse the architect who decided to make your campus so large.

You're running down the steps outside of your dorm building's doors when you're abruptly stopped by a familiar sounding cough. You look up from trying to gather all your belongings together at once to meet the gaze of the source of the sound––Jay.

"Wow, you're a mess," he smirks as he gets up from the spot on his car he was leaning against to make his way over to you.

"Gee, thanks! Good morning to you too," you flash him a sarcastic smile before your default frown quickly makes it way back onto your face.

"Aren't you gonna ask me why I'm here?" He grins as he grabs hold of your backpack to sling it across his own back as the two of you walk towards his car.

"Why are you here, Jay?" you sigh, your sarcastic tone hard to miss.

"To give you a ride to class, of course!" He's beaming at you, as if he's a pre-pubescent teen who just won their first girlfriend a prize from the arcade's claw machine.

Oh. That explains the car, you figure. Deep down inside, you're relieved that you'll no longer be bursting through the lecture hall's doors as a sweaty mess––a result of having to run across campus to get to class.

Determined to not let your satisfaction completely show, you resort with a little smile directed towards Jay as he opens the passenger door for you.

The second your enter Jay's car, the strong scent of coffee hits you, and your attention is targeted at the two small cups of coffee sitting in the cupholders of the car.

"Breakfast?" Jay asks as he enters through the driver's side and reaches into the backseat to whip out a small pastry bag. A small, deliciously smelling, pastry bag.

Okay, well. You suppose you could drop the annoyed act now.

Your eyes widen with joy as you grab the bag from him and open it to reveal your favorite breakfast sandwich. He's been taking notes, you'll give him that point.

"Okay, you win. Thank you," you grace him with a soft smile before taking a bite into the glorious gift in your hands.

"Of course, I was just feeling nice," he grins at you as he starts his car. "But don't get used to it." His tone is serious, but his smile directed towards you says differently.

And the fact that he still showed up to drive you to class the next morning.

And the next.

~ ~ ~

"And need I remind you who has to date your dumb ass for the $500 in question?" Your eyes narrow at the boy who can't seem to get that damn smile off his face.

Jay sticks his tongue out at you, ending the conversation. Really Jay? What are you, five? Well, mentally––probably.

You're looking around his minuscule dorm room for a place to sit down, and Jay can't help but feel embarrassed now that you're here, in his messy single studio room that pretty much reflects how Jay treats every other responsibility of his oh so hard life: neglected.

"Uh...here, you can sit on my bed," Jay immediately offers as he moves to the side to make room for your presence––and it isn't much, considering the university only provided him a twin XL bed which is definitely not built for two grown college-aged kids.

If you told yourself a few weeks ago that you'd be shoulder to shoulder on a bed belonging to the guy you cringed at the very thought of, you wouldn't have believed yourself. You wouldn't have believed yourself if you said you were actually glad Jay let you stay instead of kicking you out after delivering the food. Huh.

Weird.

"You know, this kinda reminds me of when we were kids. I always carried us through those horrible multiplication tests in the fifth grade," you wink at him as you settle in the spot next to him, hands grabbing hold of the papers in his lap.

Jay let out a laugh, nudging your shoulder with his. "Hey! The twelve times table is hard, okay?"

You roll your eyes at him––a habit of yours he's noticed whenever the two of you are together, but more recently, he thinks it's been more out of fun than annoyance.

He wonders why.

When Jay had first brought up the idea of bringing you as his date to his father's company dinner, you had expected a fairly fancy five-star restaurant with a formal dress code––for you've become accustomed to Jay's lifestyle. Turns out, your expectations can continue to be exceeded. Because what you had expected to be a simple dinner with a few other business men and women turned out to be an entire party, hosted in a hotel whose interior resembled something close to a castle (Or what you assume a castle looks like, as you've never personally been into a castle yourself, but this hotel is close enough).

Your eyes sparkle at the extravagant columns and diamond chandeliers hanging high above you, and Jay smiles at the expression on your face; like a little girl being brought to the amusement park for the first time ever.

"Wow, this is...wow," you mutter as you drink in the scene in front of you: people dressed in formal attire likewise to yours and Jay's, mingling and drinking what you imagine to be beverages that cost more than your entire life's worth.

Jay laughs from behind you, "Yeah the company goes a little...extra when it comes to these company dinners."

You scoff as you look up at him. "Oh really, you don't say?" You look around and you're suddenly aware of the many people surrounding the two of you and the attention you've acquired ever since entering the building.

"Jay, people are staring." You shuffle closer to him, your voice lowering down to a whisper.

"Well, it's not everyday the son of the company's CEO brings his girlfriend with him, so...looks like we'll be the talk of the party tonight. Smiles on," he winks at you, and you just know he's loving the attention the two of you are receiving right now.

"Jay Park? Is that you?" You hear a warm voice call out from behind the two of you.

The two of you turn around to meet the owner of the voice, a middle-aged woman dressed in an evening gown that matches the pattern of high-end brands you've been recognizing ever since arriving.

"Mrs. Lee! It's so nice seeing you again," Jay cheerily addresses the woman as the two of you bow in greeting.

You internally giggle at the thought of your Jay being so picture-perfect in the eyes of his father's co-workers.

"This is Y/N," he continues, his hand finding its way to your back, protectively resting it there as you go to introduce yourself. "My girlfriend."

You swear you feel goosebumps rise from where he's lightly touching you, and more so when he introduces you as his girlfriend.

You tell yourself it's just your nerves. Yes, that's it, you're just nervous. I mean, you're in a room filled with people who could easily pay off all your college loans with just a snap of their fingers, who wouldn't be nervous? Right? Right.

"Y/N! It's a pleasure to finally meet you, I've heard so much about you!" Mrs. Lee excitedly exclaims as you turn to Jay with a slightly confused look plastered on your face. He mirrors your expression as he shrugs, moving to stand behind you completely, bringing his hands to rest lowly at your hips.

His hands feel like feathers on the thin fabric of your evening gown, so light, so delicate, as if he's unsure if he's crossing a line. It leaves you wanting more, wanting to naturally lean against him and his warmth. You quick to shake the thought of your head as Mrs. Lee chirps up again.

"Jay's father is always talking about how you've been keeping Jay pleasantly busy nowadays! Good thing too, about time this poor boy settle down for someone as beautiful as you," the woman rambles on as you feel a blush creep up on your cheeks at the thought of Jay talking about you to his dad. If only they knew.

"We should probably go find our seats, I think the dinner is beginning soon," Jay says from behind you, saving the two of you from having to listen to Mrs. Lee's story of how she's known Jay ever since he was five years old and seeing him grow into this mature, loving, young man is so amazing. Oh look! I have baby pictures.

Yeah, he was more so saving himself from embarrassment.

The two of you bid your goodbyes before Jay gently uses the hand on your back to maneuver you through the crowd of socializing business moguls.

"She's not wrong, you know," you feel Jay dip his head so he's speaking near your ear, his warm breath tickling your earlobe, as the two of you make your way through the large foyer room.

"Hm?" You hum in question, turning your head up just enough to be able to make eye contact with him as he responds to your look of confusion.

"You look beautiful tonight," he says, eye contact not breaking once. You freeze in your steps.

You stare back at him in silence. Oh.

Your mind is panicking as it flips through your mental book of responses, unsure of what to say back. But because your mind is cloudy from staring at a put-together Jay in a dark navy suit to match your dress (mixed with the nervous butterflies in your stomach––have they always been there?), the only sound that's able to leave your lips is the small stutter of a:

"Huh?"

Wow Y/N, you had one job. A simple "thank you" could've sufficed! And you went with "Huh"?

You felt like a fifth grader who just learned from a friend of a friend of a friend that their crush likes them back.

"U-um. Mrs. Lee. What she said about you. You look good, really," somehow your nervousness made its way over to Jay now––his eyes flickering from yours to anywhere, anything, else in the room––the awkward tension growing tenfold each second.

Goddamnit Y/N, this is just Jay you're talking to, get a grip.

You're knocked back into reality when he slightly nudges your back to continue making your way to the main ball room, where the dinner is being held.

"Is that a compliment from the Jay Park?" Your smirk can't be seen by Jay, since he's still trailing behind you, but he can definitely hear it through your tone.

"Don't make me take it back," he chuckles, his words felt against your neck, leaving behind a tingly sensation you're not sure why you're feeling. You're glad he's behind you, so he isn't able to see the blush creeping onto your face for the second time tonight.

Jay gives a small nod to the people behind the check-in desk stationed at the entrance as the two of you waltz right into a large ball room lined with countless circular dining tables. So much for a small business dinner.

As the two of you approach one of the tables placed at the front of the room, you notice a familiar figure seated next to the seats reserved for you and Jay.

"Y/N!" Jake exclaims as he gets up from his seat to greet the both of you. "I'm so glad you made it, Jay was so excited to bring you tonight. Deadass would not stop talking about it."

Jay lets out a noise that falls somewhere between a cough and a goose being strangled, his widened eyes warning his talkative friend to just shut up. He's silently cursing the company for always seating his and Jake's family at the same table for these events.

"Aw, is that so? He's lucky he's cute or else I wouldn't have agreed," you grin, winking at your assumed boyfriend sitting next to you.

"Hey, YOU were the one excited to come! I recall a certain someone's face lighting up when I suggested we go shopping for tonight," Jay immediately retorts.

"Only because you were buying," you giggle, causing Jake to laugh as well.

"Damn, Jay. Tough," Jake jokingly adds as you laugh alongside him. The scowl sitting on Jay's face expresses the opposite of what he's feeling right now: warmth filling him up from the sound of your laughter and the image of you getting along so well with his best friend.

"I'm gonna get us some drinks, you two have fun making fun of me," Jay narrows his eyes at the two of you as he gets up from his seat. You bid him off with a smile before turning back to Jake.

"No but really though, this boy would not stop talking about you coming tonight. Then again, he doesn't really ever stop talking about you," Jake nonchalantly says, not knowing how much he was exposing his friend to you right now.

You raise an eyebrow up in response, "Oh really?"

"Seriously! I don't know what you did to him, Y/N, but this Jay I've been seeing recently is new. He complains a lot less about life nowadays, especially on the days he sees you," he leans back in his chair as his comment brings a smile to your face. Little does he know.

You stretch your neck up to find the boy in question and spot him right as he's returning to your shared table, two drinks in hand. You lock eyes with him from across the room and without a second thought, you're giving him a genuine smile that he's immediately returning.

Your heart beats faster at the view.

You wonder why.

It's 3:07AM when you hear the first ding.

You're not 100% sure as of why you're awake at this hour on a Tuesday night––perhaps a combination of your restless thoughts and feelings not letting you sleep plus the typical stress that comes hand-in-hand with the life of a college student.

It's 3:09AM when you hear the second ding, and you brush it off, assuming it was just Heeseung spamming you with memes again––something he does often when he also can't sleep (you found this out the hard way).

It's still 3:09AM when you hear the third ding, and at 3:10AM , you finally reach over and decide to acknowledge the being who's bothering you at this godforsaken hour.

Jay [3:07AM]: Y/N

Jay [3:09AM]: hi

Jay [3:09AM]: r u awake rn

Y/N [3:10AM]: unfortunately so

Y/N [3:11AM]: why are you up

Jay [3:11AM]: come outside

Y/N [3:13AM: jay it's 3am

Jay [3:13AM]: ye and? don't tell me ur a college student with a curfew

Jay [3:14AM]: plus im alrdy waiting for u outside so u have no choice

Jay [3:15AM]: :)

You groan at your bright phone screen currently illuminating your dark dorm room.

You ponder the consequences you may have to suffer tomorrow if you stay up any later than you already have. But considering the fact that you're probably just going to stay awake lying in bed for god knows how long anyways, why not?

(And you would like to point out that this decision has nothing to do with the fact that you haven't seen Jay in a few days and that maybe a tiny, tiny, tiny, part of you may have missed his presence. Nothing.)

And since that logic is obviously valid (you really gotta work on justifying your life choices), you're suddenly grabbing a hoodie from your closet and hoping it'll be enough to keep you, who's merely in an old band t-shirt from high-school and pajama shorts, warm.

The breeze hits your skin the second you open the doors to your dorm's building, and you're met with the view of Jay's sleek, black BMW that probably costs more than your tuition. He waves at you from the driver's seat, motioning for you to get in.

"To what do I owe you the pleasure at this hour," you deadpan at him with a stone-cold voice as you enter through the passenger's side door, hoping your tone was enough to hide the fact that you're giddy at the fact he invited you out at 3AM in the morning. Like a high-school girl sneaking out of her house to meet up with her bad-boy boyfriend that her parents dislike.

The second you enter his car, you're instantly comforted by the warm air blasting through his vents and his playlist softly playing in the background. Jay's pajama pants and messy hair give you more than enough information to know that he probably just rolled out of his own bed as well. You don't know why, but your view: Jay in his oversized hoodie with his unkept hair in front of your dorm building at 3AM on a Tuesday night, gives you comfort in weird ways you can't explain even if you tried.

But it's obviously just your cloudy, 3AM mind not thinking straight. Obviously.

"When I can't sleep, I go on drives around campus. It helps clear my mind," he says, looking over at you to give you a quick smile before starting his car. "Plus, SnapMap said you were still awake, so...figured you'd wanna join."

"Oh so what, you're my stalker now? You're not driving to the woods to kill me now, are you?" You tease, an eyebrow brought up. Jay lets out a laugh from beside you as he begins to drive further into your campus.

"Guess you'll just have to wait and see," he throws you a wink before reverting his gaze back to the road, mindlessly driving to wherever the road decides to take him.

A comfortable silence falls in between the two of you as Jay continues to drive endless routes around your campus. You look over to the boy driving next to you and take in his features––you don't know what changed, but you no longer feel the same anger or annoyance bubbling within you when you're around him. You're not sure when this changed, but you figure it's just the effect of desensitization. After all, you've been spending so much time with him, you're bound to get used to it. Right?

"Why were you up?" Jay finally asks after a few minutes of just the two of you silently basking in each other's presences.

"Ah, you know. The usual. Endless thoughts running through my mind, stress from school, nothing new," you sign, giving him a soft smile followed with a shrug.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

You answer him with silence as you search your head for the answer.

"I don't know. This is kinda weird, isn't it?" You don't know why you get a sudden surge of confidence, but before you can stop yourself, you find yourself rambling on. "If you had told me a month ago that I'd be here driving around with you when it's nearly 4AM, I would've laughed in your face."

Jay doesn't know whether to laugh or scoff. "Is the idea of hanging out with me that unappealing to you?"

You give him a serious look back. "I mean, up until a month ago when you needed me for whatever this game is, you literally pretended I didn't exist."

Oh. Awkward.

You freeze at your own words, mentally screaming at yourself for letting the words leave your mouth. Why, why, why.

"Y/N..." Jay says after clearing his throat after a few seconds of silence.

"No it's fine, it was a joke," you awkwardly cough and direct your attention to anything else around you right now. The view of your campus' buildings zooming by. The clicking of Jay's blinker when he switches lanes. The quiet roaring of his car's engine. The nervous tapping of his fingers against the steering wheel.

The rest of the ride is excruciatingly silent as he exits the main road and into an empty parking lot of some administration building made out of glass that has too many floors for you to count.

You don't know why you feel your heart beating in your throat as Jay puts the car into park––why you feel uneasy. You slightly turn towards him in your seat, hoping to pick up any sign of well...anything from him.

You don't know why you feel a twinge of guilt––it's not like what you said was necessarily wrong. If you were being honest, you were slightly bothered by how the two of you seemed to silently agree not to mention your past all this time. You were always one to seek answers, to seek closure. You couldn't help but bring it up––Jay was your best friend during those years. For him to just wake up one day and pretend you were nothing to him hurt you, and you couldn't help but still wonder what in the world you did to initiate his actions.

"I'm sor–" You're interrupted with his timid voice, as if he was almost afraid to speak.

"I'm not good with people." He's nibbling on his bottom lip, fingers nervously picking at a spot on the steering wheel.

You're opening and closing your mouth, unsure how to respond. You're 100% positive you look like a fish right now. Good for you.

"I don't know why. Jake calls it commitment issues but in order to have commitment, people have to stay in my life. And people just...don't. They're all bound to leave at some point. So what's the point of putting in effort into relationships if they're just going to leave you at the end?"

You're stunned by his sudden confession, not having been prepared for such a heavy topic to arise between the two of you. Up until tonight, your interactions had always been light-hearted and easy––you guys got along well. You didn't know this is how he felt all along.

But you knew where he was coming from.

You knew what Jay had gone through as a child––his mother having left him and his dad when he was young. You remember when your parents had told you the news at the young age of 13, and you remember the pain and sorrow you felt for your then friend. All you wanted to do was go to him and comfort him, but he had already cut you out from his life by then.

"Or maybe I'm the problem. My dad barely acknowledges my existence because he thinks giving me an allowance is all the parenting I need, my friends probably only stick around because they feel bad for me, you wouldn't even be here if it weren't for the bet, and, fuck, I'm literally known as the campus' fuckboy," Jay continues, falling deeper and deeper into the hole he dug himself.

He hates this, he hates opening up and feeling vulnerable, so he doesn't know why he's doing it now. He doesn't know why he feels comfortable voicing out his fears and worries when he's around you. But he does know it's a new feeling––one he doesn't know how to deal with.

"Jay," you lace your voice with as much comfort as you can provide. None of this is his fault, you want to tell him. "I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry? You didn't do anything," he says with a hint of bitterness and you can't tell if it's directed towards you or the topic at hand.

You're completely turned in your seat now to face him––despite the fact that he refuses to meet your gaze, afraid that looking at you is gonna bring out the most vulnerable in him. "You can talk to me. Talking about it makes it a lot easier. I'll always be here for you, as a friend."

Jay doesn't know what it is or why, but something in him snaps at the sound of a certain word falling out of your lips. Friend. Friend.

Friends don't make his heart beat nervously whenever he's around them. Friends don't keep him up at 3AM in the morning, pondering about his feelings for them. Friends don't provide him with this new, warm comfort he's become accustomed to whenever he's around you.

Deep down, Jay knows you didn't mean to add fuel to the fire. But because he's strong-headed, stubborn, and hates how vulnerable he feels next to you, he unleashes his emotions without thinking about the destruction coming along.

"It's none of your business, Y/N. Forget I said anything. You're just a toy for this stupid game and when it's all over we can go back to our own lives and forget this ever happened."

His sudden words cut deep, but they hurt him more than you. The second the words tumble out of his mouth, he's hit with the feeling of instant regret washing over him, and the lump forming in his throat restricts him from finding the right words to take them back.

The silence that falls between the two of you this time is different. It's a cold silence. A loud silence.

Jay feels his walls coming back up around him––the ones you managed to get through––and all he wants to do is apologize but he's terrified. Terrified of seeing your reaction, terrified of losing you again. For the second time.

You tell yourself he doesn't mean it. You tell yourself that he's just enduring more pain that one should ever receive.

But you also tell yourself that this wouldn't be the first time Jay leaves you in the dust.

You tell yourself that you're foolish for ever believing a friendship, or more, could come out of this act at the end. That you're so naive for feeling those stupid, stupid butterflies you've started to notice in your stomach whenever you see, or even think of, him.

"Okay," you begin with a firm tone. You're hurt, but you refuse to show it. You won't let him hurt you for a second time. Not again.

"Just...find me when you need me. As your fake girlfriend or just...me. I'm still here for you," is the last thing you say before un-clicking your seatbelt and leaving his car, beginning your walk back to your dorm hall.

Jay is unsure about many things in life. He's unsure about what he wants to do in the future, he's unsure of where he's going to settle in life, heck, he's unsure about what to have for lunch tomorrow. But he's sure about one thing.

That he's wearing his heart on his sleeve right now, and it's all because of you.

That you've become this new lifeline and he has to choose between holding onto you or drowning.

When Jay wakes up the next morning, his first gut instinct is to get ready to pick you up for class. But today's different. Jay doesn't know where the two of you stand now, especially after last night.

Jay doesn't know how to deal with this combination of unknown emotions he's been feeling lately. They didn't come out of no where, by any means, he realizes. They've been slowly growing over the past month of seeing you so often––like a plant he's been watering overtime, not expecting it to bloom into a flower so suddenly––but he figured it was nothing more than just enjoying the company of a friend.

Until he realizes that the term friend just doesn't suite you anymore––not to him, at least. And that scares him. It scares him that you've made him genuinely smile more in this past month than he ever has in his 19 years of living. It scares him that when he's around you he can't comprehend his own thoughts, his feelings. It scares him that you make him vulnerable, that you've changed him. That you've managed to make the walls that he's spent so long building and polishing to crumble with a simple tap of your finger.

In a perfect world, Jay would have already told you all this––he would be unafraid of how you would react, unafraid of your rejection, unafraid of losing this growing relationship with you. But alas, we don't live in a perfect world. And so when Jay drives to class that day, he drives right past your dorm building.

"Where's Y/N?" is the first thing Jake questions when he enters Jay's car that morning, confused by your absence, having been used to you being in the front seat every morning when Jay goes to give Jake rides to class as well.

"I don't know," Jay mutters, unemotional eyes focused on the road in front of him, not interested in continuing a conversation that involves thinking about you.

Jake hesitates as curiosity gets the best of him. "Did you guys get into a fight or something?"

Jay's hands tighten around the steering wheel of his car. "Or something. Let's just leave it at that."

There are a few beats of silence before Jake speaks up again.

"Well, I guess this works out because I wanted to talk to you about something."

Jay continues to stare straight ahead of him, focusing on just trying to get by without mentally beating himself up at the simple thought of you.

The simple thought of you and your smile. Your witty remarks. Your stupid eye rolls. Your laughter. Your kindness. So much for not thinking about you.

"I'm calling it off," Jake's words catch Jay off guard.

"Huh? Calling what off?"

"The bet. I'm calling it off. I don't care about the textbook fees I'll have to pay next semester. Look, fight or not, you and Y/N are good for each other, everyone can see it. And I really don't want this to end up being one of those messed up teen TV shows where the girlfriend finds out the entire relationship was based off of a stupid game and then they break up and the boyfriend falls into eternal sadness and regret. And I don't wanna see you sad, dude. So yeah! Congrats," although he's admitting defeat, Jake's beaming widely, just content with the fact that his best friend has finally found happiness through the form of you. "You win."

But Jay feels like the opposite of a winner. Because even though his only intention coming into this was simply winning the bet, his life isn't as simple as it was a month ago. Because he discovered something much more valuable than some stupid textbook fees or five hundred dollars or getting his physics homework done for an entire semester.

Something he's scared he's already lost.

You.

⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺

The next time you see Jay is at the same time and place as when he first ever appeared to pick you up––at 12:17PM on a Friday afternoon, as you're exiting the doors of the lecture building home to your awfully long Capitalism in World History class. This time, however it's different.

Because this time, it's one month later, and Jay Park is no longer a forgotten side character in the story of your life. This time, you're frustrated because it's been three days since you've last heard from Jay. And because it's been three days since you've last heard from him, you can't focus on anything else, and because you can't focus on anything else, you're falling behind on every other aspect in your life. Jay's somehow managed to become the center of your life without even having to be present.

Well, up until now. Up until you go down the steps of your lecture hall's entrance and look up to be met with a figure leaning on a car you're far too familiar with. You freeze in your steps as you make eye contact with the boy you've been thinking about non-stop for the past month three days.

Your mind tells you to walk away, to just follow your flight instinct instead of fight, to just go back to your normal life. But here's the thing. Ever since Jay's made his way back to your life, it's been far from normal.

And if you're being honest, you had no interest in going back to your normal life. Normal's overrated anyways. You find your legs bringing yourself over to him, your heart leading the way.

"Hi," you simply say, planting yourself right in front of him.

"Hi."

"What are you doing here?" You already know the answer, but you want to hear him say it.

"Waiting for you," Jay doesn't hesitate in answering you. This time will be different, he tells himself.

"I can walk myself home, thanks," you state, but your actions tell differently, as you make no sign of moving from your spot in front of him.

Jay's mind contemplates telling you everything. About how he regrets that friendship-breaking decision he made that one fateful day in the eighth grade, about his true feelings, about how he first suspected these feelings when he was 11 years old and saw you in your fancy get-up for the sixth grade dance but put it off as a little crush, and about how the same feelings grew into something so, so much more in the present. But seeing that putting all these thoughts into words would involve more than one functioning brain cell (which is all he's convinced he has in the moment, for the view of you staring up at him, looking like that, has his brain short-circuiting), he settles with:

"He called it off. It's over. The bet."

"Oh."

Silence.

Okay, Jay. This is your chance. Say it.

"Is that it?" You lift an eyebrow, awaiting for more explanation. When it doesn't come, you slightly nod and start backing away. "I'll see you around then."

Is that it? Do the two of you just go back to your respective lives now? How can Jay do that, when he doesn't even recall what his life was like before you entered it––and especially when he has absolutely no interest in going back to that life?

Fuck it.

"Y/N!" He stands up straight, a newfound confidence taking over. This time will be different, he tells himself. Because now, he knows what he wants. For sure.

You turn towards him, to see him already making his way towards you, stopping in his steps when he finds himself close enough to you that he can't concentrate anymore.

"I'm sorry for ditching you in the eighth grade. I'm sorry for ignoring you since then. I'm sorry for dragging you into this stupid mess and for pushing you away and I'm sorry for calling you a toy. Because it's far from truth. I like you. A lot. And––and I'm scared. I'm scared of what this means for us, because I just keep messing things up and all I know is that I don't wanna wake up tomorrow and realize you're not in my life anymore and––"

"Woah, woah, Jay. Slow down," you look up at him, the corners of your lips threatening to curve up into a smile. "You're an idiot, you know."

Jay's never really confessed his feelings to anyone before, per say, so he doesn't really know what to expect. But he's watched enough Netflix rom-coms in this lifetime (which is still not that many) to know that hearing the words "you're an idiot" isn't what you're supposed to hear after pouring your heart and soul out. Surely not, right?

"I––I'm not sure how to respond to that," he quietly says, searching your eyes for a sign, for anything. You giggle at his sudden shyness as you grab both his arms and look at him right in the eyes.

"It's okay. I get it, if anything, I'm also scared. But you somehow got me wrapped around your stupid finger, and I hate it," you smirk at him, your hands slowly making their way up his arms to circle around his neck.

Jay's hands naturally fall at your waist as he lets out a breathe he didn't even know he was holding as he returns your smirk. "Well, I could say the same about you. And I also hate it, for your information."

"Hmm, is that so? I guess it cancels out then, right?" You smile at him as he's pulling you in so close, your head turns cloudy.

Jay grins at you, his eyes holding so much joy and endearment as they quickly flicker down to your lips before returning to your own eyes. "I guess this only means one thing then."

"Mm, and what's that?"

And before Jay can answer––and because your life's been anything but normal lately––you make the first move this time, moving your head up to close the small gap between the two of you.

His arms instinctively tighten around you as you capture his lips with your very own, and Jay swears he's about to lift off into space right now. He's on cloud nine, and he makes no plans to touch the ground ever again.

The kiss quickly becomes fervent, all the pent-up tension that the two of you had for one another finally finding its way out, all the words that were previously left unsaid finally expressing themselves. You don't even care if you're being judged by the conservative faculty members of your school right now, or by the looks of fellow students walking past the two of you.

You try your best to keep yourself from smiling as he continues to press his lips against yours, his hand moving to hold your chin, guiding your mouth with his.

Before you find yourself getting carried away, you step back to take a breath, resting your forehead against his chest as his hands rest against your back. He smiles at the sound of you giggling against him.

Jay takes a step back to take one look at you and realizes, in this moment, that change can be good. And he's willing to undergo this change. As long as it's with you.

⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺

The next morning, you bounce down the steps of your dorm building's entrance to meet the wide, bright smile of your ex-childhood-bestfriend-turned-fake-boyfriend-turned-real-boyfriend waiting for you in front of his car, small pastry bag in hand. You smile back at him.

Jay drives you to class that day.

And everyday after that.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ :

✰ let me know what you think! if u made it til the end, mwah :') <3

[babyboibucky]

The Match - Part 3

Pairing: CEO!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky’s becoming extra horny around you in the office.

Word Count: 2,697

Warnings: still smut, boss x employee affair, unprotected sex everywhere, hints at misogyny???

A/N: And a mini series was born 😂 no but honestly, I didn’t expect for parts 1 and 2 of The Match to receive such amazing feedback 😭 I really enjoy reading everyone’s reaction to this series and trust me, all comments keep giving me ideas. Thank you all so much!!!!!!! 😘😘😘 and btw, this part isn’t their promotion “celebration” because that will have a chapter on its own. Long story short, that will be pure porn with no plot at all so stay tuned for that 😂

The Match Masterlist || MAIN MASTERLIST

It’s been a rollercoaster ride since you matched with James— Bucky, on Tinder. Maybe not a literal rollercoaster ride but with how Bucky had you bouncing on his cock as he sat on the couch, or that one time he asked you to sit on his face inside his car, it was a ride nonetheless and an exhilarating one at that.

Despite your relationship with him, the both of you surprisingly managed to keep things professional when there was work involved. Of course there were times when quickies in the office took place, given that Bucky was fucking insatiable (let’s all admit it, so were you). Work was work and you excelled at being the head of your department, but once office hours are over, you excelled more at giving Bucky head.

Oftentimes you found yourself worrying about getting caught. You’ve always been careful but lately, Bucky seemed to be slipping up. He just couldn’t seem to get his hands off of you and he was becoming more and more obvious. You were pretty good at being discreet but sometimes, it was hard not to react to Bucky when he would look at you with a naughty glint in his eyes, a smug smirk tugging at his lips as he watched you present. He’d tilt his head sometimes as he looked at you, lifting a brow as he smirked whenever he was impressed.

You ended up stuttering when he gave you that look one time. It was proud and it made your chest swell and your pussy throb. He rewarded you that night in his office by making you cum on his face twice.

That look was going to be the death of you and he was giving it to you now as you entered the conference room for the monthly mancom meeting. Bucky eyed you as you went around the desk, lifting a brow and pulling the empty chair next to him, commanding you to sit beside him without having to say a word.

You cleared your throat and pulled the chair, noticing how Bucky eyed your ass before you sat down.

“Is everyone here?” He asked after ogling your backside for a good five seconds.

All the department heads affirmed their attendance and soon enough, the meeting began with the HR manager reporting first. Lights were shut off and as soon as the report was projected onto the wall, Bucky began his little game. You were paying attention to the slides being presented until you felt Bucky’s foot nudge your ankle, hooking around it to slightly open up your legs.

You side-eyed him and subtly shook your head. He had never done this in public, at least, not during meetings. So you weren’t sure why he was being so frisky now, placing a hand on your thigh. You grabbed his hand and moved it away gently before slightly moving your seat away from Bucky, crossing your legs in the process.

“What do you think Mister Barnes?” The HR manager asked.

All heads turned towards Bucky, who obviously wasn’t paying attention provided that his hand was trying to sneak back onto your thigh. He cleared his throat and straightened up on his seat, fixing his tie before pursing his lips.

“I’m sorry, can you please repeat that?” He asked and you fought the urge to snort.

“I was wondering if we can hold another seminar about workplace etiquette.” She said.

Bucky hummed, “Do we have problematic employees?” He asked curiously.

The HR manager sighed, a blush creeping up to her face. “There have been rumors going around the office about employees engaging in...lewd acts within the workplace. I thought that we should revisit the topic about workplace code of ethics.” She explained.

You ended up in a coughing fit, quickly apologizing and reasoning out that you were having allergies today. Bucky tensed in his seat but managed to remain calm. He stole a quick glance at you before turning back to the HR manager.

“And have we identified these employees?” He asked, rubbing a hand on his chin. A nervous habit of his, you noticed.

This was what you have been worrying about! Bucky has been fucking you around the office and now everyone was catching on to it. And although you wanted to blame Bucky for this, you knew you were just as much to blame. Damn you and your hormones!

The HR manager shook her head, much to your and Bucky’s relief. “No sir, but some employees have been noticing and hearing things, especially after office hours. Janet for instance, filed a report last week about hearing hushed whispers from the pantry, followed by the creaking sound of the table. The following day, shards of someone’s mug were found in the trash. There was an assumption that there might be employees behaving inappropriately.”

“Oh my god, I’m close. Bucky I’m—“

Bucky’s hand clamped around your mouth as he shushed you, hearing footsteps approach the pantry. You stilled as you nervously watched shadows move beneath the door, but of course, this didn’t stop Bucky from snapping his hips against yours.

His thrusts were slow and languid, but he slammed back in with such force that made the pantry table scratch against the floor. Once the footsteps faded, Bucky wasted no time to get back to fucking you. He lifted your legs up and rested the back of your ankles against his shoulders, slightly bending down over you so he can angle his cock to perfectly hit that one sweet spot.

A single, powerful thrust sent you reeling, your hands finding purchase on the sides of the table.

“Cum, baby. Cum.” Bucky growled.

Another thrust made you gasp out loud, feeling the head of Bucky’s cock nudge against your cervix. One hand reached for his bicep, your nails digging into his dress shirt while the other reached back for the edge of the table only to knock off the mug resting on top.

You made a face when you heard it crash against the floor. The mug was soon forgotten when Bucky leaned down to kiss you, his tongue sliding into your mouth as his hand reached down to rub your clit.

You wiped the sweat on your forehead upon remembering that incident. Fucking Janet just had to file a report. It was after office hours, for fuck’s sake! Who cares what employees do after their shift?!

“I see.” Bucky responded, fixing his suit. “Okay. I approve of the seminar. Who’s next?” He asked, quickly changing the topic as if it was no big deal.

The head of the Finance department began with his presentation and just like that, Bucky returned his hand on top of your thigh, prying your legs open. You turned to him with a look of disbelief on your face. He was acting as if there wasn’t any close call earlier. You couldn’t believe this man, sure he was hot as hell, but you weren’t giving in to him. Not today, not when the both of you were almost caught.

The entire mancom meeting was pretty eventful, with Bucky teasing your legs with his hand despite your half-hearted protests. You hated how Bucky was able to familiarize himself with your body and how it reacted to him. Your eyes might be saying no but with how your legs eventually spread on their own, Bucky knew you were desperate for him too.

-

It was an hour past your shift when you received an e-mail from Bucky with the subject being “Report”. Thinking it was one his follow-up e-mails (Bucky is an impatient man when it comes to the submission of reports and you weren’t an exception) you opened it immediately and choked on your spit when a photo of his dick showed up on your desktop. You started clicking around in an attempt to close his e-mail, but instead of hitting the “x” button, you ended up maximizing the window instead.

“Jesus fucking christ!” You cursed and covered your monitor with your hands as you frantically looked around the office.

It was like a fucking jump scare, like one of those computer pranks asking you to concentrate on a dot before a scary photo would pop out. Except that it was Bucky’s dick that appeared. A dick scare.

Fortunately, you were the only one left in your area since pretty much everyone else scrambled out of the office as soon as work hours were over. It was a Friday after all.

You sighed in relief and quickly scrolled down to see the message beneath the photo of Bucky’s dick.

Need you in my office in ten.

P.S. Bring the report I asked from you the other day.

Best,

Bucky Barnes

Who sends an unsolicited dick pic through e-mail followed by a work reminder? And the signature? It was the cherry on top. Bucky Barnes was something else. Sweet jesus, you really couldn’t believe this man.

Grabbing your report, you marched your way to the elevator and headed up to Bucky’s office. Seeing that his floor was empty, you didn’t even bother knocking on his door and simply barged in.

“I can’t belie— what the fuck?” You called out when you were welcomed with the sight of Bucky leaning back on his chair, his cock out for the world to see as he gently stroked it.

“Need your pretty mouth around my cock, baby.” Bucky cooed with half-lidded eyes.

You huffed out a humorless laugh and shook your head, “I’m not sucking your cock, Bucky.” You refused and walked over to his table, slamming your report on top of it before walking away, but not before stealing another look at his majestic cock.

“Are you mad?” Bucky asked but he was smirking with amusement. He was giving you that look again but you were having none of it tonight.

You stood in front of his desk, keeping a safe distance away from him. Crossing your arms over your chest, you scowled at Bucky and tried your best not to let your eyes fall down to his cock again. Which by the way, he continued to stroke.

“For someone as smart as you, I can’t believe you’re so fucking dense.” You said with irritation when Bucky didn’t seem to understand why you were agitated.

He licked his lips, bucking up his hips when he squeezed the base of his cock. Bucky let out a delicious grunt as he continued to stroke himself. As much as you were salivating at the sight of Bucky’s cock— tip red and swollen, begging to be sucked— you didn’t want to give in.

“You’re fucking priceless, James.” You said, exasperated and turned around, heading towards the door.

You were about to reach onto the door knob when you heard the sound of a zipper followed by the wheels of Bucky’s chair screeching against the floor before a pair of hands grabbed at your waist. Turning you around, you were met with Bucky’s worried face.

“Shit, you’re really mad. Talk to me?” He pleaded, eyes apologetic as he took a step back, urging you to speak up.

“You might want to take a seat because I’ve got quite a list.” You said.

Bucky obeyed and returned to his chair immediately, sitting upright as he looked at you with doe eyes. If you weren’t so mad, you would’ve melted at the sight of him like that. And the Bucky Barnes? The CEO? Obeying you like a good little boy? Huh, what an interesting concept. You mentally took note of a certain kink that you might enjoy. But for now, you were mad at him and you were going to make him understand why.

“Number one, I don’t particularly enjoy it when you tease me in front of everyone else. We talked about staying professional when there’s work involved and what you did during the mancom was definitely not professional.” You told him.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hold back not when your ass looked so fuckin’ tight in that skirt of yours. Can you blame me?” Bucky almost whined.

“Keep it in your pants, Barnes. I’m not yet done.” You reminded him and went over your second point.

“Number two, we almost got caught to the point of the HR deciding to hold a seminar on workplace ethics! Do you know how awkward it would be for me to sit there and listen to scenarios about office misconduct? Most of which we’ve probably done. I’d sweat like a whore in church!” You hissed.

Which scenarios could that be? Fucking inside the janitor’s supply closet? Check. Doing the nasty in one of the bathroom cubicles? Check that twice. Giving a blowjob beside the fax machine during lunch break? Triple check that shit.

“And oh, you sent me a dick pic using your work e-mail! You do know that the IT can access our computers right? Almost gave me a heart attack when it flashed on my monitor.” You asked in a huff.

Bucky snickered, “Are you forgetting that I’m the CEO? Baby, I can easily clean up our mess.” He reassured and stood up, approaching you.

You shook your head, “That’s exactly the point, Bucky. You are the CEO and I’m an employee. You may not understand it but I’m scared. If we get caught, it’s over for me. Whether you have it cleaned up or not, I’d still be the one at risk here. You’ll never be in the same position as I am. People won’t call you names if we get caught. No matter what happens, I’d always get the short end of the stick.”

You didn’t mean to be all serious, talking about the possible misogynistic outcome of your relationship with Bucky. As much as you enjoyed it, it still scared the living daylights out of you. Some were already spreading rumors about your promotion, getting caught would only add fuel to the fire.

Bucky sighed and nodded, “I’m sorry. I didn’t try to understand where you were coming from.” He genuinely apologized.

“If it scares you that much, then let’s make it official.”

You deadpanned at him, “Make what official, Bucky?” You asked, eyebrow raised in curiosity.

Bucky shrugged and motioned his hand between the both of you, “This...us.” He simply said.

You scoffed, “Tell the entire office that we’re fucking every chance we get? Are you out of your mind?”

Bucky ran a hand through his cropped hair, “Not like that. Look, we’ve been at it for what? Two? Three months now? We might as well make this into an official relationship.”

You blushed at Bucky’s suggestion. Sure, you practically jumped at the opportunity to fuck your boss when he asked you. But were you an easy bitch in general? Of course not, even with how thirsty you were for him, you still had a little bit of appreciation for the old-fashioned ways.

Pushing Bucky’s chest away, you shook your head at him. “That’s now how relationships work, Bucky. You can’t fuck your way into my heart.”

Bucky laughed and bit his lip, “Fine. Then I’ll do it properly.” He said so easily you were starting to wonder whether he was fucking with you.

You narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously, “I don’t believe you.” You said.

“You will, baby. I’ll make sure of that. We’ll do it old-school.” He said, caressing your cheek.

You were caught off guard but you didn’t want to get your hopes up. Bucky had been an amazing lover and in the past months you’ve fucked, he treated you with respect and took good care of you. He brought you dinner, drove you home and texted you good night. Sometimes he’d text you during the weekends too.

“Old-school it is then.” You shrugged as if it was no big deal but oh, it was a big deal.

Bucky nodded with a grin, “Okay. But...” he trailed, his smile turning upside down in deep thought.

“Does that mean we’d stop fucking each other for the mean time?” He asked.

You snickered, “I said you can’t fuck your way into my heart, not my pussy. So sit down and let me suck your cock.”

-

Everything Bucky Tag List:

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The Match Special Tags:

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[jbbarnesnnoble]

Look Me in the Heart

Summary: [Mel Edit: I goofed and didn’t put the right summary. I am a fool]

You and Natasha have been together for several years. You want forever, and she’s pulling away. 

Features/Warnings: Angst;

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff/Reader

Notes: This is a request from last year that I finally got inspiration to finish. As always, I’m opening to revisiting fics! 

Request:  “Could I request a Natasha x fem!reader fic please? Like one where Nat x r have been together for years but for the last year or so, R has wanted to get married but Nat keeps saying she’ll never get married. Nat doesn’t pay much attention to her anymore. One day, R, Yelena and Nat meet and Yelena pays a lot of attention to R, making her feel real good and making her blush and giggle every time Yelena compliments her/flirts with her. Nat gets annoyed and calls r out once they’re home (1/2)(2/2) They fight and r tells Nat all she’s been feeling lately. Alone, unloved, just there to be a fucktoy for Nat and nothing else. Nat promises her they’ll get help and they’ll fix their relationship, that she’ll try harder and make an effort. Thank you so much :) xx”

Word Count: 1942

Your fist connected with the bag in front of you. It felt good to release the tension that had been building from everything. Fury was on your ass lately about your mission reports. Steve was on your ass about slacking in your training. And you had been stressed by Natasha’s lack of communication.

You and Natasha had been together for several years, since you’d joined the Avengers, just before the fall of SHIELD. You knew what you wanted, and it was forever with her. The topic of marriage was one the both of you danced around. Last time you had brought it up, she brushed it off. You knew you could live without getting married, but it was something you wanted with her and something you’d wanted for some time. You wanted to be on the same page, to know if it was something to put on the shelf. You’d be okay if it wasn’t something she wanted, you just needed to know and an answer was never given. 

“What’d that bag ever do to you Rose?” Sam asked. You jumped a little before looking over to where he was leaning against the wall. You hadn’t seen him come in.

“Everything, Jack,” you joked. It had been a running joke between you and Sam since a mission gone wrong on the water that evoked the infamous scene from Titanic. You both fit on the door. 

“What’s really wrong?” he asked. You sighed. Sam could read you better than anyone, barring Natasha. It was why you two were frequently partners on mission. You worked well together, seamlessly moving from one mission to the next. 

“It’s relationship woes. We had a...disagreement before she left on her mission. I brought up the big M again,” you explained, moving to sit on the bench as you grabbed your bottle of water. Sam sat down beside you. 

“Eventually you two do need to have that discussion. Is that all that’s bothering you?” he asked.

“I feel like she’s pulling away. You know how my last relationship went,” you told him. He let out a light laugh before speaking.

“Your ex was a piece of work. I know you. And I know Natasha. Natasha is the furthest thing from your ex. Have you told her how you feel?” he asked. You felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment. You hadn’t brought it up. You weren’t sure how. You didn’t want to appear clingy. It was one of your fears when it came to voicing your feelings. 

“To paraphrase Jersey Shore, I don’t want to appear like a stage five clinger,” you grumbled. You glared as Sam doubled over with laughter.

“I thought you hated that show,” he said when he caught his breath. You looked anywhere but at him. You hoped Bucky wouldn’t murder you for what you were going to say.

“I’ve been binging it with Barnes and Rogers when we have free time,” you admitted. At that, Sam had completely fallen off the bench laughing. You shook your head at your best friend. If that was the price you had to pay to end the conversation on your relationship issues, you’d pay it. Even if it meant facing the wrath of Bucky for letting Sam know that bit of information. 

You both left the gym, headed for the living room. You knew Natasha was due back that day and that she was bringing Yelena with her. Yelena had met up with Natasha and Bucky on the mission. You liked Yelena, when she’d come around. She had her own room at the compound, but wasn’t formally an Avenger. She liked the freedom to come and go as she pleased. Tony was more than happy to offer her a place to stay. 

You were in the middle of watching a rerun of The Nanny with Sam and Steve when the trio arrived. The three of you had just placed the pizza order, knowing the others would be in and out. You stood up and walked to Natasha, who placed a gentle kiss on your lips. 

“I’m going to go shower before dinner gets here. Save my seat for me?” she asked.

“Always,” you replied. Bucky and Yelena both took their leave as well, all three of them in need of a shower after their debrief with Fury and Hill. You saw the look Sam gave you and just shook your head. Natasha was most affectionate after a mission. But by the end of the evening she’d be shrugging you off. It was a cycle that you had grown used to. You weren’t sure when things had changed. 

Dinner arrived along with a freshly showered Natasha who sat down beside you, one hand on your thigh, itching for the contact. But you knew by the time dinner was done, Natasha would no longer be beside you. That she would come to bed after she was sure you were asleep. Unless she wanted to relieve tension. You felt more like her personal fucktoy than her girlfriend some days. A body to warm her bed and get her off. There were no bedtime conversations. There was no cuddling. No moments that belonged to just the two of you that didn’t involve sex. You hated it. 

You stood and stretched some time after you finished dinner. You felt Natasha’s eyes on you. You knew it wouldn’t be long before she followed you to the room the two of you shared. For once, you were going to turn her down. You set about your nightly routine, taking a quick shower and brushing your teeth before pulling on pajama pants and a tank top. You weren’t surprised to see Natasha lounging on the bed when you entered the room. 

“I missed you baby,” she murmured as you sat on the bed. She knelt behind you, bringing one hand around to trail up your stomach to your breast. You rebuffed her attempt.

“Not tonight, Nat. I don’t think dinner sat well,” you lied. You heard her huff and bit your lip in an attempt to hold the tears at bay. You heard her get under the covers and wondered where things had started to go wrong before getting under the covers yourself, your back turned to her. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning, Yelena was joining the two of you for breakfast in your room. Room was an understatement. Each Avenger had their own kitchenette and living space with a separate bedroom. It was really like a small apartment. Most times though, the team could be found in the common spaces unless they wanted time to themselves or they were off compound on missions or visiting friends and family. 

You were making pancakes. Yelena had volunteered to help. Nat had left on her morning run and had only mentioned that Yelena was coming over before she left. You felt at ease with the blonde. You doubled over in laughter as she smudged flour on your face after saying you had a spot of flour on your nose. Neither of you had heard Natasha come in until you heard the thud of her water bottle on the counter, startling you.

“Sorry, am I interrupting something?” she asked, glaring at Yelena. 

“We were just making breakfast, Nat. It’ll be done soon. Why don’t you go grab a shower?” you said to her. With one last glare, Nat stalked from the room angrily. You sighed.

“She loves you, you know,” Yelena said softly. 

“Sure doesn’t feel like it sometimes,” you muttered. You set about setting the table, pouring coffee for Natasha, made just like she liked it. Breakfast was tense. Yelena threw a couple flirty comments before Natasha’s glare made her stop. She knew when to stop. The tension ramped up throughout breakfast, even as Yelena engaged Natasha in conversation. After breakfast, Yelena excused herself when she sensed the tension had only grown, making an excuse about having promised Wanda she would spar with her. You steeled yourself for the fight that was brewing. 

“Seems like you and Yelena are getting on just fine,” Natasha said, her tone even and her eyes cold. You scoffed.

“Yes, Natasha. We are. I figured you’d want your sister and I to get along,” you replied as you began picking up the dishes to bring into the kitchen. 

“I didn’t mean flirt with her! I know that look,” Natasha said. 

“It was harmless,” you told her. 

“Was it? Because it seems to me that you want to be anywhere except with me these days,” Natasha argued. You laughed. Truly laughed. 

“Oh that’s just rich coming from you. Natasha we rarely share a bed anymore. When we do, it’s a quick fuck. It’s like that’s all I’m good for anymore. Being a warm body,” you cried. Natasha paused. Surely that couldn’t be true. She tried to think about the last time the two of you had gone on a date. The last time you two of you just spent time together. She was drawing a blank. 

“I’ve been busy,” she said weakly. She knew it was a poor excuse. You’d been busy too. But you always made time to see her. And she would just brush you off. Natasha wasn’t so sure she could salvage the situation. She had never been on the receiving end of the disappointed look on your face. She didn’t like it. 

“What are we Natasha? Anytime I bring up marriage you skirt the subject. Say not now. Later. When is later, Natasha?” you asked. You wanted answers. You knew this was going to be a make or break conversation for your relationship. You hoped it wouldn’t be a break. You weren’t sure you could handle losing her, not like this. 

“You know how I feel about marriage,” Natasha replied. 

“Do I? You always deflect,” you said, your voice lowering. You knew the pair of you were on a collision course with the point of no return. You were desperate to reign in your tempers before that point. 

“You want to marry me? After everything I’ve done, everything you know about me?” she asked. Her voice betrayed a vulnerable side of Natasha you had never seen. A softness you had never heard in her voice before. 

“Of course I want to marry you! I want to shout from the rooftops that Natasha Romanoff is mine! My wife, my love. But that doesn’t matter, Nat. As long as I have you, I’m happy. Married or not married, as long as you're mine,” you argued. The two of you stood for a moment, looking at one another. You wanted nothing more in that moment than to feel her arms wrapped around you. She stepped toward you, gently taking the dishes from your hands and placing them on the table beside you before bringing one hand up to cup your face.

“There is one thing I know for certain in this life. I don’t want to live it without you by my side. I haven’t been fair to you lately. I shut down instead of talking to you and it took until now for me to realize how close I’ve come to losing you,” she whispered, her voice breaking. You took her other hand in yours, squeezing it gently. 

“Then we’ll talk to someone. Because Nat. I don’t want to lose you either,” you replied. You weren’t sure how long the two of you stood there, embracing one another in a way you hadn’t in so long. There were still discussions to be had. But they could wait. For now, you took comfort in one another, knowing that come tomorrow the real work would begin. 

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

I'm Always Curious Part Twenty Four

Previous Part | Next Part |  Masterlist Notes: I hope everyone’s having a good week 💕 Voxi - Translator *Ei dotch - (*and you) Warnings: Mentions of canon-typical violence. Summary: While his reasons had been purely self-serving, maybe Spargo’s suggestion of revisiting the topic of Somonia hadn’t been such a bad idea. 

When Christopher and I had left Larilia, there were smiles on the Chancellors faces, settled looks as they stood side by side, sisters and rulers.

Now, as I stepped onto the landing pad on Somonia with the Admiral, I found the Chancellors with their antenna rigid, faces stony and set. Standing alongside them was the Federation’s assigned attaché, Soivo. Commander Soivo was a Rigelion. They had been on the planet since Pike and I had left, and I had spoken to them twice since I’d left Larilia: once to get them up to speed with the situation on the planet, and then again earlier that week. 

I raised my right hand, raising my right index finger and brushing it across my hairline, where Larilians had their antenna and I lacked one, before I dipped my head in greeting. Choholl and Chihurs both flicked their antenna at me before dipping their heads in turn. “It is good to see you again, voxi,” Chihurs spoke up first. I smiled a little bit. “*Ei dotch,”  I answered gently, looking between the both of them. 

--

While his reasons had been purely self-serving, maybe Spargo’s suggestion of revisiting the topic of Somonia hadn’t been such a bad idea. Shortly after the armistice had been announced, and the transfer of power of the territory shifted to Chihurs, factions of the industry’s leaders had spoken out against the change. Choholl had initially doubled down, urging open channels of communication between Chihurs and the leaders. But as tensions escalated, violence was threatened, and both parties refused to back down, manufacturing had come to a halt. Nickel mining and processing was one of Larilia’s largest industries; it was their primary export, employing the majority of their population. And now, with the operation at a standstill, the average Larilian was beginning to feel the effects. Commander Soivo had counseled Chihurs to take a hard line with the industry leaders; that had led to both parties walking away from the negotiating table, and that was when Cornwell had called me earlier that week. It was a play out of Spargo’s book - the kind of play that might’ve worked on a planet like Bajor or Q'onoS. What Sovio had failed to take into account was the Larialian’s warring sensibilities. There was a reason that the sisters had taken one another to task for the last eight decades, and it wasn’t just grief at the loss of their matriarch, or their inability to decide who was their mother’s favorite. Like Romulans, Larilians could be wrathful, and bowed to their emotions quickly.

On the journey to Larilia, Cornwell had updated me that not one, but four attempts had been made on both Choholl and Chihurs’ lives since negotiations had broken down completely. 

It was moments like these that I really, really needed my Spock Cap. 

-- “How’s it feel?” “Worse than when we were here,” I admitted. I peered out of the conference room window, overlooking a darkened processing plant. We were stationed on Somonia for the time being. The lodgings weren’t nearly as comfortable as they were last time, but that was just as well. Maybe the discomfort would keep me on task and get me out of there sooner. “Worse how?” Chris asked. “Just…” I trailed off, shaking my head and lowering my eyes to my communicator, “Last time, I could feel the want for a change. Now there’s this tension, and-- And I don’t know if it’s the territory conflict or what happened with Soivo, or… I can’t suss it out.” I lowered my head, scrubbing my eyes with my hand as I shifted from foot to foot. “What’d you get up to with your last day of leave?” I asked. I didn’t want to talk about Somonia anymore. “Holochambers-- you were right about those flight sims.” “Oh yeah?” I smiled a little, “What else?” “Dinner with a few people.” “Which people?” “Does it matter?” I could practically hear the wrinkle in Chris’ brow, and I realized that I sounded like I was interrogating the poor guy. “No,” I said softly, “Of course not. Just--... I just wanna hear you talk.” There was a pause on the other end of the line before Chris said, “Spock, and Thaleh-- And Una, of course.” “Of course,” I teased a little. “I would’ve rather been with you.” My smile widened, and I tipped my forehead forward onto my hand, “I’d rather be with you, too. You all on your way to the Pergamum?” “Been on our way for about four hours. We have a few stops set before we get there-- I have to be on the bridge in a little bit, but I’ll talk to you soon, alright?” “Alright. Be careful.” “Don’t worry about me.” “You’re kidding, right?” “Don’t start, sweetheart,” Chris retorted, but besides all of his grumbling, I was suddenly very glad that he wasn’t in front me. He’d never called me that before, and it put the stupidest grin on my face. “Too late,” I finally managed, “I’ve started.” “Well, I’ll finish it when you’re aboard the Enterprise again.” “That a promise, Captain?” “You know it is, lieutenant. Pike out.” I murmured my goodbye before I clicked my communicator shut, staring down at it. I sighed softly, running my thumb over the device before turning my eyes back to the processing plant. “Lieutenant?” I whirled around to find Admiral Cornwell standing in the doorway. I felt my stomach churn uncomfortably. How long had she been standing there? “Admiral,” I greeted, tucking my hands behind my back and forcing my face into a calm set. “Everything alright?” “Yes. Just touching base with Captain Pike.” Cornwell gave a nod, stepping further into the room, “Did he have any words of advice?” “Just-- To comm in if I had any questions.” Cornwell had this...Little look on her face, one that I couldn’t decipher, but she nodded a little. “I’ll be leaving in the morning, I’m needed on Tiburon.” Fear thrummed through my stomach, and Cornwell raised her hand before I could protest: “Commander Soivo is aware, and certain that the two of you can handle this situation. We’ll have check-ins every few hours, you can comm me if you need something-- Or Captain Pike.” “Of course,” I nodded, speaking with more conviction than I felt. 

Cornwell was quiet for a moment before: “Lieutenant, your record aside, the work you’ve done on the Enterprise-- and with the Chancellors before -- has shown a lot of promise. I understand that this is….Sort of a hard left turn, in terms of what you likely thought you’d be doing, and how, but I am going to need you to step up. I wouldn’t be going to Tiburon if I didn’t think you were capable of that.”  “...Admiral, I appreciate the sentiment, but under the circumstances, I also don’t mind admitting that I am scared shitless.” Cornwell smiled, nodding. “I’d be a little concerned if you weren’t,” She said, “You should get some rest. I suspect you’ve a few long days ahead.” 

--

Commander Soivo and I were up in time to see Cornwell off. We watched the yacht lift away from the landing pad, and I felt my confidence go with it. “Shall we to the conference room?” Soivo asked. “Sure,” I nodded, turning with Soivo away from the landing pad. My eyes caught on something in the distance - a few lights on at one of the dormant processing plants. “...Commander?” “Yes?” “Are the Chancellors set the visit the processing plants today?” “No. None of them are meant to be under operation.” “What do you think those lights are, then?” I asked, nodding toward them. “... Routine maintenance, perhaps.” “Can we get that looked into?” “I’m sure you’re fretting needlessly, lieutenant. Come now, we mustn’t keep the Chancellors waiting.” 

--

I’d come to realize, later, that even if Cornwell had stayed -- even if we had an extra Phaser in that room, we wouldn’t have stood a chance. The negotiations would still have been overrun, the heads of production would still have had the upper hand, and we wouldn’t have made it out cleanly. Tag list:  @angels-pie​  ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta​  ; @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo​ ; @how-am-i-serpose-to-know​  ; @onlyhereforthefandomandgiggles​  ; @inmyowncorner​ ; @tardis-23​  ; @2manyfandoms-solittletime​ ; @paintballkid711​ ; @katrynec​ End Note: .... Just trust me. 

[usagi-mitsu]

Prompt #10 Heady

Sometimes a celebrations looks like it, but doesn‘t feel it. Sometimes the sweet taste of victory is soured by cloudy thoughts. Just like this one.

@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast // #ffxivwrite2021

Prompt #10 Heady

The lanterns light up the glass ceilings only to get reflected back as thousands of tiny spots across the floor. Across the Exedra, the large plaza in front of the crystal tower, many of the Crystariums inhabitants were celebrating once more the returning stars in the sky.

Many had called for all the artificial lights to be killed, so that they might see them even clearer. The general concern for people who might accidentally fall down that stairs or run into walls had quickly stopped this debate from spiralling out of control. To soothe those determined to get their will, multiple barrels of wine and ale got rolled outside to be tapped on site. With vinous expressions on their faces, even the most fierce debater retracted their demands.

Shia too had seized the opportunity. With her second or third tankard of some fresh Crystarium brew in hand, she was leaning on one of the upper balconies. For one she wished to watch the people, their happy dances, glee-full expression and to hear their laughter and listen to their singing. For the other… well. She needed a moment.

The night was… saying it was still young was an understatement, especially after 100 years worth of day. But it was true: The watch told her it was only about nine in the evening, so there was plenty of time to be jovial with everybody. There was no need to either rush or get drunk right away. It would only serve to shorten the night.

This night.

The night of celebration.

Celebrating their victory over their foe.

The lightwardens were gone, the night returned and the ascian named Hades history. Shia should have been drunk on her victory alone, not the ale.

And yet.

And yet it kind of felt wrong to celebrate.

She took another hearty swig from her tankard. The taste of the ale was fresh, hoppy, with a dash of what pine trees smelled like. But mostly it left a bitter aftertaste.

Somewhere down in the crowd, Shia spotted the Crystal Exarch. Or rather G‘Raha Tia. She‘d need to ask him, which he preferred. Though it would feel weird to call him by his title, now that she could see his face. The face of the young man she had once had a crush on; who she might even have loved. But said face had also been marred by the towers influence, his hair grown growing more and more pale with each year, his body partially encased or even transformed into crystal.

But even then… why did looking at him make her gut growl. Yes, he had spirited her friends away to another dimension and left her with the shocks of her life. Never before had she been as afraid. Never before had she lost her friends to a fate so unknown.

He never meant them or me any harm. He did what he had to do to safe this and our world. Don‘t forget.

True. But did that excuse his action?

Shia emptied the still half full tankard with a few big gulps. This was neither the place nor the time to think about this. She‘d talk with one of the Scions in the morning. Or whenever she‘d cured the hangover she was currently working on. Perhaps Urianger could help her. He always had a nag for philosophy. But he‘d probably not be able to give her any answers. Y‘shtola would take the pragmatic route. Thancred was too occupied keeping an eye on Ryne to be talked to about this. He would also not keep quiet and tell the other. The same went for Alphinaud. Even though his character had grown immensely since they had met all the way back in Gridania. Perhaps Alisaie was the one to talk to here. She had been the one to talk to about personal matters before. The spirited young lady had even pushed Shia to go and meet her brother, leading to a brief but heartfelt reunion of the siblings.

Alright. The topic of that Exarch/G’Raha could be tabled until the next morning.

That left the other thing keeping her mind from indulging: Hades‘ last words.

„Remember us. Remember, that we once lived,“ she repeated quietly towards the stars.

She would remember, at least him and his flamboyance. And the city he had created just… just for her? To jog her memory? But how could she remember something she had never seen in her life?

But now she had. Forgetting that sight would be a tough challenge. Mayhap she would’ve even attempt to forget. Maybe this was one of those things she‘d keep close to her heart and revisit again and again. It was a sight for the ages after all…

He had to die. It was him or us. There was no other way.

How often would she have to remind herself of this? Of the inevitability of what had happened? Perhaps another round of ale would help her table this discussion too.

Gazing one more time across the Exedra she caught the gaze of her long lost and now found lover. He waved his crystallised arm until it got caught in a furry paw.

„Come on down, Warrior of Darkness,“ a burly Hrothgar bellowed, „the Exarch doesn’t seem to get in the mood for celebration! Mind showing him a few of your partying skills?“

Shia couldn‘t remember the mans name for the life of her. She did remember him supplying her with enough drinks to knock out a whole platoon the day the night had returned for the first time.

The smile of G’Raha Tia flashed across the Exarchs features. He shrugged.

„I will be right there! Should I take the stairs or just leap down?“

„The stairs! Please take the stairs!“

The Exarchs yell reached Shia, but she did not care.

„Catch!“ She answered in a yell of her own, before climbing upon the railing and simply falling down.

Ah yes. The alcohol is finally doing it‘s work. A shriek was followed by the sound of scrambling feet. A hard thud and Shia lay atop her former lover, who seemed to have actually tried to catch her. Weather from embarrassment or her laying atop him, she did not know, but every piece of skin on his face had turned red. The Hrothgar was laughing. He had caught her tankard and gestured with it. „Shall I bring you another?“ „That would be lovely,“ Shia answered and he turned towards one of the big barrels. „Thank you for catching me.“ Wether it was because of the alcohol or her genuine feelings, but Shia smiled at her current cushion. „… you are welcome.“ His sounded a bit hoarse. She gave him another look and before thinking too much about it, she placed a quick kiss on his forehead. Only to jump up almost immediately after. „Should we do as asked and get you something to drink too? Because that is how any good party goes.“ Shia held out her hand and the Exarch took it gladly. „I‘d be delighted to share a drink with you.“ And together they too made their way towards the bar.

If you wish to read how the night ended for the two of them, you might be interested in my NSFW piece Always You on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19791733

[rrenzwrld]

WARNING! SUGESSTIVE CONTENT!

“ 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐌𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄? ”

𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐌𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄.

"Can I leave my stuff out here?" I gestured to the huge dining area we were about to leave from. He nodded before turning away from me and leading me to his room. I had only been to his room a few times with the rest of our friends, but only probably about twice by myself. I was used to seeing the excessive amount of organization his room displayed so this only added to his character and one more thing I grew to love about him. I realized I started to love more things about him everyday but could he say the same about me? I didn't know the answer to that yet. And hopefully, I'd find out today.

I made myself comfortable on his bed by plopping myself down and grabbing a pillow to hug. This was something I did whenever I got a chance to be in here because it was the closest thing to putting my arms around him. As I said, he wasn't too pleased about PDA as he was too busy scolding everyone else about theirs to be caught up in it himself. So most of the time, I was cautious about when he wanted to be touched. In 2 months, the closest we got to touching or anything like that was handholding. It was still romantic but after a while, you get tired of it if that's the only thing you're doing when being in a relationship.

I watched as he looked for a book to grab off his bookshelf. I sighed in frustration.

"What's wrong?" He asked me with his eyes still scanning his bookshelf. I guessed he heard me. Finally.

"You're my boyfriend, right?" My grip on the pillow tightened.

"I am." Eyes still not on me. "Is there a problem?"

"I.. I just don't feel like it..." I mumbled, looking down. I've been meaning to share my thoughts with him the entire time and now I had the opportunity, I buckled down. Maybe I wasn't as confident as I thought.

He walked over to me and got on the bed and sat in front of me with his legs crossed in front of him. I turned to him and did the same with the pillow still in my arms.

"You don't feel like we're dating?" He revisited the topic.

"No..." I said timidly. He pushed his glasses back up onto the bridge of his nose.

"I'm sorry," All I wanted him to do was acknowledge it, I didn't want him to feel bad about it. "Excuse me as I haven't been in a relationship prior to this..." I don't see how, he's the sweetest thing... minus the small attitudes sometimes. Unlike him, I've been in relationships before and none of them were like the others. I've had different experiences in all of them.

I reached out to touch his hand. "It's okay. Don't be sorry." He holds my hand and entangles his fingers in mine.

"I feel like a terrible boyfriend. Your needs are just as important as mine, if not more. Forgive me." It hurt me to see that he feels this way but through out the whole relationship so far, it was hard to get an idea on how he felt towards me at times.

I scooted closer to him and reached up to caress his cheek. There was a comfortable silence between us before he spoke.

"Y/n?"

"Hm?"

"I...love you." I froze in place. I haven't gotten a chance to hear those words yet but today seemed like my lucky day. My face got hot at his words.

"I-I love you too.." And his face got hot at mine. I felt this weird energy between the two of us that began to draw us closer together. And apparently, I wasn't the only one who felt it. Iida raised his hand up to my cheek that was burning hot by now and moved it to the back of my neck, bringing my face closer to his. I slowly closed my eyes as I leaned closer, anticipating what was about to happen. I finally met the softness of his lips with mine and no words could describe this moment. I've been waiting 2 months for this. Longing for something from him. A kiss, a hug, something. And I was finally getting what I wanted.

After a few seconds, we slowly pulled away from each other. The taste of his lips lingered and I wanted more. I wanted him to kiss me more.

He instantly became more flustered than he was before, flapping his arms everywhere, something he always did. "I-I'm sorry for violating you, Y/n! I just wanted to tr-" I shut him up by slamming my lips back onto his and crawling into his lap. He accepted the kiss and his hands hovered above my hips, not knowing where to put them. I pulled away to look him in the eyes. He looked up at me with a look of infatuation in his eyes. His eyes scanned the entirety of my face, finally landing on my lips. This time, I didn't want him to let me know anything. We didn't have to talk right now.

I carefully slid his glasses off his face so they wouldn't get broken in all this (we're gonna pretend for the sake of this. you can bash me later) I waved my hand in front of his face.

"Can you see me?" I giggled.

"Yes, but not well. Doesn't matter anyhow..." I reached behind me to place his glasses on the nightstand at his bedside. Our lips meet each other once again but with more passion behind them this time. I'm sure this was his first kiss but he was doing so well. I was fairly surprised. Without breaking us apart, I grazed the tips of my fingers along his arm and gently grabbed his hands, placing them on my hips. His lips were so addicting with me getting to know them for the first time. I haven't been this happy in years.

As the kiss deepened, we started to care less about anything that didn't have to do with each other. He no longer upheld the 'smart nerd' image while he was with me and I loved it. Right now, he let everything go and I enjoyed that for him. He tightened his loose grip around my waist, pulling me closer into him. He was kissing me like I wanted to be kissed. All of the feelings we zoomed over were finally coming back to us all at one time in this moment. In this moment, we shared one breath, one sensation, one timeless and passionate moment. The heat rose in our cheeks as our tongues learned to dance seamlessly with one another with quick, electric, and delicious movements.

I pulled my shirt over my head from the hem and threw it to the side, and did the same with his as well. We didn't stay away from each other long before our lips met again. His brawny, muscular figure only added to the experience and if this all was a dream, don't you dare wake me up.

We were stopped by noises downstairs, which we assumed were his parents coming home.

He quickly detached himself from me, beginning to dress himself again. I pouted slightly. I hated that it had to end. I missed the feeling of his lips on mine. I did like the fact that the redness in his face was still evident.

"Get yourself dressed, Y/n. We don't want anything happening." I grabbed the pillow and put it in my lap.

"Something already happened." I smiled. I was still giddy from the events and I believed I'd be giddy for a long time after this. I put my shirt back on and fixed myself back up.

"When did you become such a good kisser?" I didn't think he could get any redder.

"I don't know the answer to that myself." And he wasn't lying. He seemed genuinely confused. I didn't care, it's cute. He began to walk over to open the door.

"Will this be the last time?"

"Certainly not." I sighed in relief. I stood from my spot and walked over to him. He wrapped his hands around my waist, pulling me close. He was becoming more comfortable with touching me and I liked that. Maybe now we'd start acting like a real couple. I reached on my tippy toes to whisper in his ear.

"You should kiss me more."

[thekrazykeke]

title: just keep breathing

fandom(s): fallen hero rebirth/retribution

pairing(s): wei chen x sidestep. ricardo ortega x sidestep. wei chen x ricardo ortega x sidestep. ricardo ortega x wei chen. 

playlist/song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AMkz9JF7teY

rating: t+

summary: maybe it’s not about fixing what’s broken. maybe it’s about starting over and creating something better.

warning(s): pre poly relationship, comfort food, pining, mild spoilers for the alpha build, angst and hurt/comfort.

Listen. 

I played Fallen Hero Rebirth and rated it a solid 9, and the story initially left me crying my eyeballs out but mildly confused, wanting to understand things. So I replayed and replayed and replayed. I picked up things and the clues started fitting together. I paid for the Retribution alpha build and I’m still crying my eyeballs out at night over it but I wanted resolution. I wanted to give (one of) my character(s) a light at the end of the tunnel. 

So this is what it is. Or an attempt at it because FHR is really quite dark and not for the faint hearted. Those warning tags are not for show. 

Sidestep’s name is Tyndall Bowman in this one.

~

It happens on a Sunday. The last weekend before a new month started, technically.

Ortega frequently visits Chen’s apartment and brings food, lightly ribbing the other man for his lackluster kitchen space. Chen’s routine response becoming less and less exasperated each time. 

You think that he not so secretly fears that you’ll both starve or subsist off canned food and cheap takeout. ...Which probably isn’t a far off assumption, considering the implication day one of your temporary living situation.

It could be considered sweet, if it wasn’t so very funny. (You had to get your kicks somewhere).

Your legs are still broken. 

Progress is frustratingly slow. 

You’d tried to move to a schedule of crutches-only by the second week out of sheer boredom and the flat look Chen had leveled in your direction caused you to nix that idea stat. 

There’s a tension between Chen and you now. 

Not to say that there rarely isn’t tension, but that’s usually due to an aftermath of an argument. Now? Now, you’re aware of him. Aware of him in a way that you’d only been aware of Ortega.

Fucking hell.

Someone’s knee brushes lightly against yours, breaking you out of your reverie. You glance to the left and catch sight of Ricardo watching you with soft, worried eyes. Chen also watching, but less obvious in his concern, features more stoic, controlled. The three of you are in the living room, they are siting on the couch, you’re in your wheelchair. 

They probably asked you something and you were zoned out.

The lie is on the tip of your tongue, “I’m fine,” you mumble and grip your bowl which has half melted blueberry swirl ice cream and salted caramel cheesecake. Sweets are your kryptonite but Ricardo has pulled out your top favorites...

“You’re fine?” Ricardo scoffs, his tone skeptic. 

A muscle jumped in your jaw. “Yep, just fine,” you reply, using your spoon to scoop up some ice cream, take a bite and enjoy the flavor. Refusing to give an inch and let him win. 

The two of you had played this game many times, too many actually, and it usually ends with you being the one to fall for the prodding, and then you get angry, lash out. 

Walk away.  Only this time you can’t. 

Another scoff. “Typical. You do this every time, you know.” There’s a surprising amount of bitterness in Ricardo’s voice now. 

“Ricardo,” Chen starts to interject, the strain clear in his voice. “Tyndall. Stop.”

It’s too late though. 

Placing down the bowl on the nearest surface, freeing up your hands, you clench then unclench your fingers, trying to avoid cracking your knuckles. “And what about you, then huh, Saint Ortega?” The sneer on your face is ugly. “You’re always on about me being honest with my feelings and talking, but the truth of it is, you’re just like me, or worse!”

Ortega looks dumbfounded. As if he can’t believe you’d dare to throw the truth in his face like this, so obviously. He recovers quicker than you’d like, much to your annoyance, though. “...Maybe so,” he acknowledges, his voice softer. Enough to lull a more gullible individual into complacency or just anyone not paying attention. You know better. “That’s a topic we can revisit in a moment. I’m more curious about how long the two of you expect me to play the idiot here.”

Unwillingly, your eyes dart to Chen’s, then away. 

Not focusing on any particular point in the room. Does Ortega know that you’re Mastermind? Since when, and did Chen tell him? Or is he bluffing right now and he doesn’t know? Is he talking about something totally different than what you’re thinking about?

Quick! Think up an appropriate answer and throw him off the trail!

“....I don’t....know what you mean.”

That’s not what you should say!!

Chen sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose.  He looks pretty much done with the both of you right now, not that you can blame him. “Be clearer, the two of you have a propensity for telling half truths which leads to the majority of these absurd arguments.” 

Ricardo winced and you feel the sting from that particular burn as well. 

“In response to your statement, though, no one is expecting you to play the fool.” He looks a little nervous, guilty. “ I... We’ve kissed.” There’s a pinch to his brow, the tips of his ears turning pink. “That wasn’t an example of being a good friend to you, kissing Tyndall and murkying the waters further when I knew the two of you were...” There’s a pause as he tries to find a word for what you and Ortega shared before you and he tentatively stopped antagonizing each other and bonded over Spoon. 

You snorted, lips twisting into a wry smile, “The phrasing of that sentence makes it sound as if I found it a chore to kiss you or something.” Chen cuts you an admonishing look which you temporarily ignore as you turn to glance at Ortega who’d been watching the byplay between you and Chen with an unreadable expression. For the nth time, you wish you could read his mind, and at the same time, you’re grateful that you can’t. 

“...He’s right though. It was an epically shitty thing to do, kissing your oldest friend, who’s probably had a crush on you since he’s met you, while we were kissing. Totally and unnecessarily complicated.”

He just looked at the two of you for a moment. Then Ricardo sighed heavily, running a hand over his face, wearily. “Esto es un desastre.”

You say nothing, staying quiet because honestly, you agree. This is a mess, and it was poorly handled, on all sides. You’d already spilled the beans about Chen having a crush Ortega before it got to this point because you sincerely thought the conversation should have come up properly over seven years ago, your ‘death’ should have been a nonfactor. 

They likely would’ve been a couple already if they weren’t such obtuse idiots.

“Okay... okay...” Ricardo seems to have come to a conclusion. He nods resolutely, turning all his considerably intense focus onto Chen who seems taken aback by it. Leaning forward into the other man’s space, slow enough that it’d be easy to shove him back, but of course Chen doesn’t. Ricardo’s hand went to the nape of his neck, lightly urging Chen forward, the other man obeying that silent request, and in the span of a breath, they’re kissing.

Your don’t avert your gaze, as much as you want to. 

This is a private thing, you shouldn’t look, shouldn’t stare like a pervert. 

‘Isn’t this what you knew would happen?’ Of course, your brain isn’t nice. 

This is what you wanted right, for them to get their act together. 

Humans falling in love with each other is normal and acceptable. (Although your education depicted of men and women falling in love, primarily). It happens all the time. 

Such emotion is a luxury a Re-Gene cannot afford, nor can they sincerely feel it, that’s what you were taught on the Farm. So resistant to the idea of going back to being treated as an unfeeling thing, your re-education had been particularly brutal.

“Whatever horrible thing your mind is telling you, it isn’t true.”

Once again caught off guard, lost in thought, you’re unprepared for Ricardo to kiss you. He tastes faintly of blueberry swirl ice cream and sweet tea, and maybe it’s your imagination, but maybe even a little bit like Chen. It’s that stray thought that has you jerk your head, trying to turn away from him. “W...what the hell, asshole?”

He snorted. “You know you sound really cute when you curse.” 

Baring your teeth, you snap, “Tomber d'une falaise!” Although the idiot clearly didn’t know what you said in French, basically telling him to fall off a cliff, it didn’t stop him from dramatically clutching at his chest, as if he’d been stabbed in the heart; he could probably guess it was at least an insult.

“Stop teasing him, Ricardo.” Chen admonished. Ricardo mock pouted. “I mean it. Can’t you see that he’s overwhelmed?”

“I am not overwhelmed!”, you vehemently protest.

“Out of your depth then,” Chen countered and before you could complain that it was pretty much the same thing, only with differing meanings, he continued on, “What our resident idiot is clumsily trying to show instead of explain, is that he wants both of us.”

“If you want a threesome, fine. It’ll have to wait, as I’m a bit physically impaired at the moment.” You’re almost surprised by the bitterness in your voice. 

Chen stared at you for a brief moment and then he braced both hands on either side of your wheelchair. Heart slowly turning over in your chest, oddly feeling as if you’re caught in the gaze of a hunter, you stubbornly keep eye contact for a second or two, but can’t maintain it for long. That doesn’t stop him from murmuring in your right ear, “Stop being so stubborn. Stop lying. You want this. To be in a relationship with both of us.”  A brief pause. “Correct?”

Fucking hell... 

Swallowing thickly, wondering the logistics of how that would work out. Wondering if you were about to once again make a horrible mistake. Then again, since you’d come back to Los Diablos, since Ortega found you again, that’s all you’ve been doing so far, haven’t you. Making mistake after mistake after mistake. 

“Yes.” 

As Chen’s left hand buried itself in your curls, taking control, tilting your head back, idly you wondered if the next time you hit the ground, if it’d hurt less. This is after a freefall into madness, it feels like, and twice as foolish. Yet you surrender, and you stop thinking, enjoy the kiss. 

[slippinmickeys]

Five Seconds (2/8)

As I mentioned, this is the sequel to Of The Eight Winds. I will be posting the first two chapters today and then one chapter a day until next Monday. You can also read it on AO3 here. 

Chapter Two

It was decided the best place to go would be the Midwest -- far from family on the coasts. They’d avoid the biggest cities -- Chicago, Detroit -- but still stick to denser populations; mid-sized cities on the edge of farmland -- it would give them the ability to lose tails in the chaos of town or hit the road quickly and disappear into the woods. A college town where no one would think anything of a new family moving in at the beginning of a semester. It was early May and the summer semester would begin soon at many universities. Frohike said he had a trustworthy contact nearby, so they settled on Lansing, Michigan.

The inheritance from Mulder’s father’s estate would keep them afloat for as long as they needed. Now they just needed to tell the kids.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Frohike handed him a shoebox. Mulder opened it to find new IDs for the whole family. They were now the McDonald family of Okemos, Michigan. The driver’s licenses looked real, as did the passports. Mulder thumbed through everything slowly.

“How’d you get these so fast?” he asked, looking up.

Frohike shrugged. “Best not to ask.”

Mulder leveled a look at the older man.

“If either of my kids ever come to you for a fake ID, I’m hiring a plane and skywriting your location,” he said.

Langly snorted from his chair.

“This is your new address,” Frohike said, handing Mulder a piece of paper that he threw in the box. “Subleased a furnished house from a professor traveling on sabbatical. Darlene will meet you there at noon on Friday. Don’t be late, she gets cranky.”

“Darlene?” Mulder asked.

“Darlene Frohike,” Byers piped in. “Melvin’s sister.”

“You have a sister?” Mulder said, surprised. He pictured Frohike with breasts and long hair and felt one eye start to twitch.

“Go to her if you need help,” Frohike said, “she lives nearby.”

“You have a sister?” Mulder said again.

Frohike glared at him.

“They used to run pacifists over the border into Windsor, Canada during ‘Nam,” Langly helpfully piped up. “She can roll.”

“She can roll?” Mulder asked.

“Her kung-fu’s the best,” Frohike said seriously.

Mulder held up the box of fake documents.

“Family affair, huh?” he said, and Frohike shrugged.

Mulder thumbed through everything one more time before departing the bunker. They’d been generous with Scully’s height and his weight. He could picture his wife’s smirk already.

“Hey, Mulder?” Frohike called out just as he opened the door. Mulder glanced back at the three men. “Be careful.”

XxXxXxXxXxX

Mulder called a family meeting as soon as the kids walked in the door that evening. After the news they’d received the last time their parents had sat down with them like this, they both looked at them with trepidation.

“God, you’re not about to tell us Mom’s having twins, are you?” Lily said, plopping down on the couch in the living room. Will lowered himself down next to her, his eyes darting back and forth between his parents. When neither Mulder nor Scully laughed, Lily’s face fell. “What’s going on?” she asked seriously.

Mulder had debated with Scully how honest to be with them. While he thought they were old enough to handle the full truth, neither wanted to scare them. And yet they needed to know the severity of the situation. A parent’s eternal dilemma.

“Our family is in some trouble,” he started, sharing a look with Scully. “And we’re going to need to leave town for a while.”

“When?” Lily asked, “For how long?”

“What kind of trouble?” Will asked.

“There are some people that are after your mom-” Mulder started, and both kids interrupted him quickly.

“What kind of people?” Lily asked, at the same time, Will, whose voice rose almost an octave, said:

“After her for what?”

Mulder rubbed a hand over his face. He was perched on the arm of the chair Scully occupied, and she reached out and took his hand.

“I think we need to start from the beginning,” she said. “The very beginning.”

She gave his hand a squeeze and began talking. Starting with the abduction of Samantha Mulder, Scully gave a thorough, yet succinct account of the ins and outs of their current predicament, making the whole outlandish tale sound coherent and almost reasonable. Both kids listened to her raptly and remained calm, and Mulder once again thanked his lucky stars for the woman next to him. For all the tumult they’d experienced through the years, there was no one he’d rather have by his side.

“I have a friend -- some friends -- that have set us up with a new life-” Mulder said, when Scully was finally done talking.

He was interrupted by Lily.

“The friends who you visit at Arlington Cemetery? The ones we’re not supposed to know about? Those friends?”

Mulder looked to Scully who wore a surprised smile.

“I haven’t said a thing, Mulder,” she said, looking to him.

“Lily hid in the trunk of your car once,” said Will.

“Will!” Lily shouted at her brother.

“Lil, is that true?” Scully asked her daughter, concerned. Lily wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“I’m not sure whether to be terrified or impressed,” Mulder said. Then shook his head. Back to the topic at hand. He would worry about that later.  “Anyway, those friends have set us up with a life in the Midwest for a year, probably less. Until the heat is off. Until we’re sure we’re all safe.”

“Where in the Midwest?” Lily said with trepidation.

“Michigan,” Scully said.

“They’ve got good hockey in Michigan,” Will offered, and Mulder wanted to hug the kid for his optimism.

Lily looked pained. “What about school?” she said. “What about UVA?” She was supposed to start college there in the fall.

“Lil, these people are not above using you to get to us. The only safe thing is for you and Will to come with us. It’s not even for a year. You can defer. Just the fall semester,” Mulder said.

Lily fell back against the cushions on the couch. Scully and Mulder shared a look.

“And we have to leave soon,” Scully said, “before graduation.”

Will reached out and put his hand on his sister’s knee, his face all sympathy. To her credit, Lily looked at her little brother and gave him a thankful look, a small uptick of the lips. Will turned back to his parents.

“When do we have to start packing?” he asked.

“Tonight,” Mulder said.

XxX

A day later found Mulder in the attic with Lily and William, going through boxes, taking the few things that they had in storage that they thought they might need. Mulder had grabbed a tent, a few sleeping bags, a kit knife, various useful odds and ends.

Will was over in the corner and had unearthed a box of old pictures and held one up for Mulder’s perusal.

“What’s this one from?” his son asked.

Mulder came over to take a look. It was a glossy 8x10 of him and Scully facing each other, framed in profile, hovering on the edge of a crime scene. He remembered it, now. It had been taken by a federal crime scene tech who’d finished documenting a scene and had needed to finish off the roll of film. Mulder had seen him snapping and had handed the guy a fiver. Two weeks later it arrived in an interoffice envelope, accompanied by three dollars and a post-it that said “keep the change.”

In the photo, Scully was looking up at him, the sun at her back slanting on her autumn hair so that it shone like a halo of spun gold. She was wearing a dark suit, as was her wont, the bulge of her service weapon at her back, one arm out and gesturing at something out of frame. He was struck, as he always seemed to be, by her exquisite beauty; her face was a composition. A work of art. A call to prayer.

“God,” he said, a little awestruck, “look how young we were.”

“Mom used to be really pretty,” Will said, and though he said it kindly, Mulder turned to him slowly.

“I’m sorry, ‘Used to be?’” he said.

Will looked nervously between his father and Lily.

“She’s still pretty?” Will said, more as a question than a statement.

“God damn right,” he said, “Every day I thank my lucky stars that she still deigns to share my bed.”

“Dad, don’t be gross,” from Lily, who at 18 didn’t mind her parent’s displays of affection so long as they weren’t public.

“Gross?” Mulder said, pointing at each of them.  “Gross? You were born of the loins of an ethereal creature of heaven, the both of you. Don’t blaspheme.”

“Says the guy who just said ‘God damn,’” said Lily, cheekily.

Mulder grinned and turned back to the photo.

“To me, fair friend, you never can be old, for as you were when first your eye I ey’d, such seems your beauty still,” Mulder said, looking at it.

“Which sonnet?” Lily asked.

“104,” he said, and they shared a smile. Another silent moment of admiring the photo and he set it down, turned to his children. “All right,” he said, “pack what you need. Let’s get a move on.”

He added the picture to his own cache.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Something caught Lily’s eye as her father was folding up the old box of photos. The corner of a glossy 5x7 was sticking up from the edge of the box -- in it, she saw her father’s face, smiling, looking extremely young.

She helped him shove it back into the corner of the attic with a scrape of cardboard on plywood and he stood, head still bent down in the cramped space so as not to crack his skull on the slanted beams.

William was already heading back down the rickety ladder onto the landing below them, the hollow sound of his steps on the aluminum like the beat of a drum.

“You okay, Lil?” her father asked, his eyes squinted at her in concern. She was still kneeling by the box.

“Yeah,” she said, smiling at him, and glanced around the attic, at the memories their family had built up over the years. She hoped they’d be able to revisit them one day. Deep down she was afraid this might be the last time she saw some of these things -- an old box of her brother’s LEGOs, her Raggedy Ann, the doll’s black button eyes fixed and sightless, a wispy cobweb hanging limply off her yarn hair.

“Let’s get out of here, then,” he said, and reached down to help her up.

Before she took it, she reached out and pulled at the glossy photo, sliding it easily out of the box and slipping it surreptitiously into her back pocket as she stood. It crinkled in her jeans as she walked toward the attic ladder with her father behind her, as she moved on toward she knew not what.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Scully sat in her car with her keys in her hand, staring at the woman’s house, debating whether or not to get out.

She had faith in her husband and all her things in a suitcase, but there was still a small part of her that didn’t quite believe the tale Olivia Kurtzweil had told them. In all their years working together on the X-Files, Mulder had always been the engine, and she had always been the brake -- and the impulse to tap the pedal when faced with the fantastic had never left her, even after more than a decade out of the basement office.

She drummed her nails on the steering wheel once and then made a decision, shoving the keys into the pocket of her coat, double checking that her service weapon was in order, and sliding out of her car and onto the sidewalk. She wanted one last talk with the woman before committing to this drastic course of action.

It hadn’t been easy to find Kurtzweil’s address -- even with the Bureau’s resources at her fingertips. She’d had to call in a favor to a friend with ties to the State Department to get it.

The street Kurtzweil lived on was quiet, just outside of Pentagon City. Parking on the street was by permit only, and there were hardly any cars. The house was a one-story ranch with a long porch, big enough for two rocking chairs, which were tilted at an angle toward each other just-so. The landscaping was impeccable and there weren’t any bugs in the porch lights. Olivia ran a tidy ship that Scully could appreciate.

She hesitated one last time at the door before reaching for the doorbell. She’d debated the merits of coming unannounced and had settled on the element of surprise -- hoping if the woman were lying about anything, unprepped and unrehearsed, Scully might be able to suss out lie from truth.

She heard the bell ring inside the house and waited for muffled footsteps or perhaps the bark of a dog. She was met with silence. She gave it about another ten seconds before ringing the bell again. When there was still no answer, she walked over to the garage and stood on tiptoes to peer through the window. There was a BMW parked inside. Scully made her way back to the door, and reached up to give it a knock. When her knuckles hit the wood the door gave an inch and suddenly feeling unsettled, Scully pushed it slowly the rest of the way open.

Just inside the door there was a purse laying on its side and a cascade of unopened mail fanned out on the floor. A chill ran up Scully’s spine and she reached for her sidearm, suddenly glad she’d brought it.

“Olivia?” she called tentatively, before taking a step inside, the gun held out in front of her, listening sharply for any hint of sound. None came.

She swept the perimeter of the entryway, all her senses on high alert. Hearing nothing, she called out Olivia’s name again. Still silence.

She turned the corner into the main part of the living area -- an open concept living room, dining room, kitchen, and nothing looked out of place. She edged her way slowly into the kitchen, and that’s when she saw it; two feet sticking out behind a large island in the kitchen.

Scully darted forward and slid to her knees next to the woman, quickly taking in what she saw before her: Olivia Kurtzweil had been shot, a double-tap to the head and one to the heart--a professional kill. Knowing she wouldn’t find it, Scully reached out to feel for a pulse in the woman’s neck. Her body was still warm.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Mulder stood in the elevator, his finger hovering over the ‘12.’ It was one of the newer office buildings outside the district, a high rise of dark glass and steel. He thought maybe he should have called first, but hadn’t wanted to risk it. Finally, he depressed the button and the elevator lurched to life.

On the twelfth floor, the doors opened to a brightly lit lobby, the walls and floor all stark white granite. There was a sleek reception desk ahead, manned by an even sleeker looking young blond woman, who looked at him expectantly as he approached.

“Hello,” she smiled, not showing teeth, “Can I help you?”

“I’m here to see Lauren Williams,” he hedged, and the woman’s eyebrows shot up.

“Do you have an appointment?” the woman asked.

“No,” he said, and started to wonder if he should have come at all.

“Okay,” the woman said slowly, narrowing her eyes, “I can call her assistant and ask if she can see you. Your name?”

Mulder felt like a bug under a microscope.

“Tell her it’s Fox,” he said.

She nodded.

“One moment.”

Mulder glanced at his watch. They were supposed to be on the road in four hours. This was a last minute stop for him, a barely thought-out ‘what if’ plan C in case the whole thing went to shit.

When he glanced back up, the receptionist was looking at him expectantly.

“She’ll be out in a moment,” she said, and Mulder smiled his thanks and took a few awkward steps back.

There was a small waiting area to the left of reception, but the seats looked more modern than comfortable, and the entire space had a disinfected don’t-sit-here vibe to it. Set dressing.

After a moment he heard the efficient clicks of approaching heels, and turned to see his ex-wife coming out of a metal door that he’d thought was a wall.

“Fox?” she said, her face one of pleased surprise.

“Lauren,” he said, as she leaned in and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, “I’m sorry to drop in on you like this. You look well.”

She did. She was in a crisp grey suit that was likely Chanel or Hermes, and trim as ever. Her face looked sculpted and her skin clear and bright. Not a wrinkle to be found. A mild cloud of the same perfume she always wore clung to her, lending her an air of sophistication where it may have made other women seem like they were trying too hard. She leaned back, holding onto one of his forearms and gave him an assessing look.

“You look… worried,” she finally said, her eyes narrowing a bit in concern.

He didn’t reply, and she turned to the receptionist.

“Thank you, Amanda,” she said smartly and inclined her head toward the metal door/wall which clicked open as they approached it.

She led him down a long hallway, with glass conference rooms lining one side and open concept work stations along the other. At the far end, she opened a floor-to-ceiling glass door and led him into a large and immaculate corner office.

Mulder raised his eyebrows, impressed.

“You’ve done well for yourself,” he said, “it’s been a while.” She shut the door behind them and gestured to a small sitting area off to the side of the office. It was more welcoming than the lobby seating had been, and he slid into one of the chairs gratefully.

“Executive Vice President,” she said proudly, and took the chair opposite him. She settled into the leather of the seat and leveled a look at him. “You okay, Fox?”

Mulder glanced at the door, at the bustle of the office beyond it. No one seemed to pay them any mind.

“I’m…” he started, “we’re in some trouble.”

“You and Scully?” Lauren asked kindly, “Is she okay?”

“Yes,” Mulder smiled, “she’s good, she’s…”

He fumbled a bit. Not quite sure where to start.

“Is it money?” Lauren asked. “Do you need-”

Mulder cut her off, laughing uncomfortably. He and Scully both made a very good living, and his father’s estate would have kept them more than afloat even if they didn’t. He huffed a deep sigh, and she sat quiet and patient, looking at him in concern.

“Our family is in danger, Lauren,” he finally said, “and we need to disappear for a little while.”

Her brow furrowed.

“Is it Scully’s work at the FBI?” she started, “Is it-”

He once again cut her off.

“Listen, I don’t want to tell you much for your own protection. The less you know, the better.”

She nodded, her brow furrowed with concern.

“The reason I’m here is… we’re going away for a while. Headed to the Midwest.” She remained silent, waiting for him to continue. “Do you… does your aunt still have that hunting camp up in Michigan?”

He saw a small smile crack through her unease. Lauren’s Aunt Clio was half Williams Family Secret, half Williams Family Legend. A bright, effusive personality, she was blustery and smart, and unpretentious to the point of embarrassment, as far as Lauren and her upper-crust-endeavoring parents were concerned. She lived in Ohio, where she and Lauren’s father had been raised, ten years the man’s senior. She kept a hunting camp in the eastern Upper Peninsula of Michigan called Camp Hi Early. She hunted deer throughout the state’s archery season and had told a story at Mulder and Lauren’s wedding reception about running at a bear with an axe from the outhouse. The story had mortified Lauren at the time -- Mulder had just been delighted. Aunt Clio had been drinking straight whiskey at the party, and had just been about to tell Mulder a story of running ‘shine when Lauren had pulled him away and to the dance floor. Mulder had never forgotten it, or her.

“Aunt Cli died last year,” she said with a begrudging smile. Mulder marveled. The woman must have been close to a hundred years old. Lauren’s eyes met his. “But she left me the camp.”

“You still have it?” Mulder asked, amazed, “it doesn’t seem like your kind of… scene.”

Lauren laughed.

“That it’s not. But there’s a mining company that has its eyes on the northern 100 acres, and if they get their hands on it whether from me or from someone I might sell to, Clio Williams will haunt me from the grave.”

Mulder laughed, felt something loosen in his chest.

“If you need it, it’s yours, Fox,” Lauren said, the humor dissipating from her voice.

He leaned back in the chair.

“We probably won’t need it,” he said, “it’s just something I thought of as a distant Plan C. But if we need to get out fast -- if we need to go somewhere we can’t be found…”

Lauren nodded and stood, moved over to her desk.

“It’s rustic, Fox,” she said, and sat down in the chair, pulling open a desk drawer. “And not charming-rustic. It’s rustic-rustic. And likely in disrepair. I sent a local handyman out there this past spring. He assured me that the roof doesn’t leak and the windows aren’t broken, but that’s about it.” She was rifling distractedly though the drawer. “I’m not sure how well outfitted it is, and It’s probably overrun with mice and squirrels. He said it looked like a moose had been gnawing on the siding…”

“It’ll be a last resort,” he said seriously.

Lauren paused and looked at him.

“Bad?” she asked.

“Pretty bad,” he nodded.

She winced and stood, an envelope in her hand. She made her way over to him and raised it.

“This is the key to the padlock on the cabin door,” she said, “and a map to the camp. The handyman I hired drew it up for me, not the other way around, mind you. I haven’t been out there since I was a kid and Aunt Cli took me up there to teach me to shoot. There’s the boondocks and there’s this. I’m talking county highway to a dirt road to a two-track. A seasonal road that the county doesn’t plow. I don’t even know if an SUV can get in there. The road to Camp may be impassable...” she handed him the envelope.

“That’s what I’m counting on,” he said.

Lauren reached out and squeezed his shoulder, the concern on her face cutting rare lines into her perfect skin.

“I want you to check in with me, let me know you’re okay,” she said, “do you feel safe doing that?”

Mulder nodded, put his hand over hers where it rested on her shoulder, squeezed.

“Yeah,” he said.

“I’m serious, Fox,” she said, “if I call, you answer your fucking phone. I’m scared for you. For the kids and Dana.”

“I promise,” he said, giving her hand one last squeeze before he rose to leave. “I’ll send you a number when I’ve got one.”

His phone rang then, like a premonition. He answered.

“Mulder?��� Scully said into his ear, her voice shaky with panic. He heard the slam of a car door. “We have to leave. Now.”

[thanksjro]

More Than Meets the Eye #28- I Sure Hope Y’all Like Megatron

“Dark Cybertron” is finally over! Woohoo!

Who’s ready for a return to hijinks and mild peril?

I know this guy is!

Hold on a second-

We start our foray into Season 2 of MTMTE with a little meta-humor-

-and then it’s right into the swing of things, as Brainstorm uses the thin, fragile wine glass of faction-based morality to hold his personal need to make instruments of violence. Nautica disapproves, but then why wouldn’t she? She’s not been steeped in the militant ideologies of the Autobots for millions of years.

It’s six months after the convoluted events of “Dark Cybertron”, and our beloved ship, the Lost Light, is back on track for the Knight Quest. Nautica’s joined the crew, which is neat, but there are far more interesting things going on.

Like Rung actually doing his fucking job for once.

Wow, look at that little creamsicle man go.

It would seem that in the last half-year (by Earth standards) Megatron’s somehow gotten himself into the esteemed position of Captain of the Lost Light. This likely means that Rodimus has been defeated in battle, or perhaps fucked off on yet another space yacht to run away from his responsibilities. I suppose the narrative will have to fill us in on just what exactly happened.

Or, at least, I hope it does. Wouldn’t be a terribly good story if I had to guess on how exactly this dude’s in charge of a whole-ass Autobot crew.

Yes, yes, I know he switched sides, but goddammit, it takes a little more than saying sorry and changing your wardrobe to excuse the murder of half of NYC.

I mean, we can do both. Both is an option. I’ll break out The Communist Manifesto right now, let’s fuckin’ gooooooooo-

Six months prior to Megatron’s therapy appointment, Rodimus is ready to high-tail it off of Cybertron yet again. This is because, as established in previous posts, Cybertron kinda sucks butt. He bursts into the meeting Optimus Prime called- even though he’s really not leader of anything anymore, Starscream is- bids everyone farewell, and is about to run back out of the room when he’s stopped.

Turns out that the populace of Cybertron want Megatron to stand trial. That makes sense, given what all he’s done. Of course, the Autobot pals we’ve got in the room want to skip due process and go straight to the part where Megatron pays through the nose for the last four million years.

Which doesn’t feel terribly heroic or good guy-ish, but I think by this point you’ve probably caught on to the fact that everyone in IDW Transformers is morally gray at BEST.

Because Megatron’s had a rough time the last few years, in relation to his bodily integrity, spark extraction- that thing that High Command lied about in relation to Overlord- isn’t an option. It would just kill him dead.

Uh, excuse me? Optimus Prime, sir? Monsieur Premier?

Guess Optimus hasn’t been keeping up with exRiD.

Anyway, yeah, since Tyrest fucked off in “The Sound of Breaking Glass” and also tried to commit a genocide, we’re gonna need someone to cast judgement.

Course, a military trial isn’t exactly ideal, but as long as it’s open to the public, it should be fine.

Probably.

Anyway, Prowl’s also going to help. Ultra Magnus has been assigned the task of representing Megatron in court, a job which he’s positively delighted to have, if his face is any indication.

The gang breaks for lunch, and Rodimus and Optimus touch base on how the Knight Quest is going.

Because Rodimus’ half of the Matrix had the map for finding the Knights of Cybertron in it, they’re gonna have to go with Plan B.

Oh fuck yes, I love Plan B!

Unfortunately, finding the ideal romantic partner for all Cybertronians is going to have to wait until after the trial, because Optimus really wants Rodimus here for this. Though perhaps there’s a way to make things move a little faster…

Back in the present, Megatron’s had just about enough of Rung being a psychiatry joke, and is about to walk out of his appointment. Ravage is here, which is neat. Rung asks Megatron about the three most important people in his life, and how he met them. One of these people is, funnily enough, Rung.

Rung, if you’ll recall, was thrown into Megatron and Impactor’s table at Maccadams waaaaaay back in The Transformers #22, the first issue of the IDW run that Roberts wrote solo. It would seem that getting arrested and subjected to police brutality ruined his once-idealistic worldview. This is just a lightning-round recap of the events of the “Chaos Theory” storyline.

Being reminded of how hard he got dunked on makes Rung break out his copy of Megatron’s autobiography, Towards Peace. Of course, Megatron has to be “that guy”, and makes it out to be far more than it actually is. My dude, you used your writing to tell all your proto-Decepticon buddies to go beat up Whirl in prison. Let’s not make things sound more grandiose than they are.

Anyway, it turns out that Rung is actually just as much a nerd as he looks, as he reveals that he’s in possession of one of the only few copies of the original version of Towards Peace. And then he takes off his glasses and the fans go bonkers, even though he’s just got that Milne Same-Face going on, just like everyone else.

There you are, you animals.

Rung discusses Revisionism, I’m reminded that the first publication of Eugenesis had a dedication to Roberts’ son of all people, and we get the question of who Terminus is to Megatron.

But alas! The X-ray vision’s been turned on, and it’s time to see… nude robots? An in-depth anatomy lesson?

Robots are confusing sometimes. Anyways, major props to Milne for drawing all that detail. Dude does the technical stuff with a ferocity that must be awe-inspiring to behold.

Megatron’s decided that it’s time for lunch, and then he’s going to do captain stuff.

Because he’s captain of the Lost Light.

I’m convinced Rodimus is dead. That’s the only way this is happening.

Six months ago, Swerve was being awful Swerve-like, with his new buddy Crosscut- guess he finally learned the guy’s name- and Riptide, who we’ll get to a little later on. These three wonderful lads are holding a sort of “crew try-outs”, and it looks like the requirements needed for entry on Megatron’s Lost Light are stiff.

Still, maybe our new friend Nautica will make the cut.

Oh, you are simply delightful!

Despite Nautica having interest in nearly every topic in the universe, on top of having impeccable taste in booze, she just misses the cut. It’s at this point that Nightbeat bursts into the room to stop this farce from going any further. The fact that nobody mentioned anything prior to this is surprising, given that portmanteaus don’t really seem the type of thing Ultra Magnus would approve of.

Back six months ago, we see what Optimus Prime’s super great idea was to expedite the judicial process- Chromedome. It’s always Chromedome. He’s gonna do that thing he promised his late husband he’d stop doing. I suppose it’s a good thing- for Rewind, anyway- that Megatron is wholly against the idea of having his memories torn out of his head. Guess we’re gonna have to do the trial the normal, non brain-pokey way.

Optimus leaves the cell, because I suppose he’s remembered that there’s a conflict of interests here, but Rodimus stays behind to let Megatron know he deserves everything that’s coming his way.

Then Megatron breaks out the puzzle-box from Hellraiser.

In the present, Chromedome isn’t so much spiraling in his depression as he is circling the drain. Nightbeat doesn’t give a shit about that though- he’s more concerned with the fact that one of the numbers on the door to Chromedome’s room is missing. But I’m sure it’s fine.

It’s fiiiiiiiiiiine.

While Nightbeat’s busy being insensitive to his fellow man’s distress, Megatron’s arrived to his room to find his door’s been vandalized by a bunch of idiots who must have just discovered what a thesaurus is. Then he gets shot in the fucking hand with an arrow.

As you do.

Whirl’s gotten ahold of a bow, and he fully intends to use it for Megatron-directed violence. And also his fists. His very pointy fists. He punches Megatron through the fucking floor into the fuel furnace, and they fall what’s probably a good 200 feet to the ground below. Whirl yells about evening the score between the two of them, and then knees Megatron in the dick.

Turns out, Megatron remembers Whirl even better than originally thought, having gone so far as to order his forces to not kill Whirl, because, in a way, he was grateful for the lesson he learned back before the war in Rodion.

Oh man, I hope Rung’s somehow listening in on this. Like, eavesdropping is obviously bad medicine, but we’ve already established that he sucks as a professional, and he needs what few advantages he can get.

Whirl, enraged by the implication that he’s been fighting fixed battles for the last four million years, punches Megatron in the gut… and his arm gets swallowed up by an errant portal leftover from all of Shockwave’s tampering. Since you can’t really fight with only one arm, Megatron wanders off to do captainy things.

Walking back the timeline slightly, we revisit Megatron leaving Rung’s office, and the idea of personal revisionism, the conversation becoming parallel with the strange happenings going on within the ship, as Rewind’s final message is altered so as not to end with “I love you” but instead a blood-curdling scream. Chromedome is, understandably, upset by this turn of events.

Over with Whirl, it’s revealed that the little fight we saw was intentionally set up. For what purpose, or by whom, is left a mystery.

Please see a doctor.

One last flashback to the trial, as Prowl lists off everything that’s standing in the way of our Sympathetic Megatron Redemption Arc.

Good fuckin’ luck, James.

Back in the present, Megatron’s slapped a bandaid on the hole in his torso, as he checks to see what’s happening on the bridge. It would appear there’s a coffin floating around in space.

Pretty fucked up.

[kettle-on]

This one did not go as well as I hoped, but then I always think that when I'm about to post a chapter.

If I knew how to write it, there could be optional smut at the end of this one, but I have zero confidence (or imagination) when it comes to that, so apologies but no, there's none here.

You'll just hafta make it up yourselves

(Still, this chapter does have one of my favourite little bits so far!)

attn: @jessm78 @coincidence-ithinknots-blog

Previous Chapter

Chapter 6

“There’s something almost kingly about waking up alone,” declared John Cleese as he and Eric made their way to the morning room to start the day’s work. They had both set out early, Eric having slept quite poorly, perched atop his typewriter, and John unusually well-rested.

“The peace and privacy and space,” he continued, “Yes, I think it sets one up rather well for the day.”

“If you say so,” Eric abided with a small smile.

Before recently, Eric’s preference was to fall asleep with a girl beside him and by the time he’d wake up in the morning, she would be long gone. Thus went the final years of his previous marriage, rocky and uncommitted – his “asshole years” as he’d come to refer to them. As all things tend to do, marriage seemed like the right idea at the time, but the seductive adventure of fame was more than Eric had bargained for.

“How are things with you and Connie, anyway?” he asked his now strutting friend.

In fact, none of the visitors had seen any sign of John’s wife Connie Booth for months. The two had never been particularly candid about their relationship, but other than seeing her on the television in late-night repeats of Fawlty Towers (of which plans for a second series were now rumoured), she remained mostly unseen.

“I’m not going to talk about it,” said John with finality.

“Oh come on, John.”

“No. I’m not going to,” he repeated, stroking his mustache.

“Not even to advise your old pal?”

They had reached their destined room, and John set to work immediately rearranging the cushions on the sofas and armchairs.

“Eric, you’ve just spent Christmas in the West Indies with a beautiful woman. You don’t need my advice.”

“I just don’t want to mess up again,” Eric confessed heavily, plopping his curled copy of the script onto an end table. “All the shit from before. Is it really worth going through that again?”

“Why? God! Don’t tell me you’re marrying Lyn again,”

“No! No, obviously I mean Y/N.”

“And? She’s a very nice girl, so what’s the problem now?”

Eric was baffled, and searched his hands for an answer.

“Eric, every relationship is a new start,” John began, suddenly soulful. “Every marriage is a new set of conditions and variables. You know that. Y/N comes with entirely different features and functions, and even you - you’re different to what you were before. You’ll be different every time. Except for some things, of course. You’ll always be an ugly, greedy bastard with a smart mouth and no sense of occasion.”

“Cheers,”

“But you’ve come a long way - I’ll say that for you. Anyway, what does Y/N have to say?”

“I don’t know. We haven’t talked about it.”

Raising his eyebrows and lowering his chin, John gave Eric his famously unimpressed face, “Well that’s your first problem. I can’t imagine what’s stopping you.”

“Can’t you?” asked Eric, looking up from under his fringe.

Against the wishes of the house staff, lunch was taken later in the day (“teatime” as Terry Jones insisted) on a folding picnic table on one of the many lawn areas around the lot. With the addition of a cotton table cloth and wooden bench seating, Mr. Brown the butler couldn’t refrain from voicing his distaste. Eric and Michael doubled up with charm to convince him to leave it be.

“See how nice it looks with the rhododendrons all around us!” Michael demonstrated.

“Yes, and you needn’t worry about the table cloth; I’ve pulled it off the bed,” added Eric in jest before abandoning Mr. Brown altogether, and they strutted arm-in-arm across the grass to join the others at the table.

Their camaraderie extended even as far as the last piece of fresh olive bread left in the basket. Sat side by side, Eric and Michael were mirror images, their arms reaching into the basket in the middle of the table, when their knuckles collided.

“Oh! Sorry - ”

“Sorry - ”

“You have it.”

“No no, please. Take it.”

“No, I’m fine. It’s yours.”

“Well, only if you don’t want it.”

“I do want it, but only if you’d rather not.”

“Oh, you have it then.”

“Don’t you want it?”

“Yes, but you - ”

They were cut short by Terry Gilliam’s arm of God reaching between them, grabbing the piece of bread, and aggressively gobbling it up.

Afternoon chat was considerably more relaxed and domestic than evening party topics. At this time of day, rockstars and millionaires turned into normal people who were content to discuss the shapes of teabags, and revisit childhood moments of blowing on a blade of grass between their thumbs to make it whistle.

Y/N felt most at ease here. She shifted slightly and propped her feet up on the bench opposite, next to Eric’s side, the table cloth gently covering her toes. Before long, she felt the familiar comfort of fingers around her ankles. Eric was always dutiful to show he was never out of reach.

He was already looking at her when she raised her gaze to him, and his smile grew. From time to time, they’d share a moment like this one - at home in each other’s eyes, unspoken declarations of attraction, of love and affection.

“What are you trying to send that’s costing you 8 dollars?” Eric’s voice cut their silent exchange as he cordially re-entered the table conversation.

Terry Jones seemed to be unsure as to how shocked he ought to be at a recent postal charge.

“Why not just hang on to it and take it back with you – it’s only another ten days,” suggested Eric.

“Well I’m hoping I’ll manage to forget about it, and it’ll be great surprise when I get home,” Terry just about managed to explain before his conviction crumbled into resigned chuckles.

Before long, plates emptied and glasses were refilled from water jugs and wine bottles. Across the table, Eric and Y/N’s eyes met again, exchanging a look of “let’s go be alone somewhere.”

Laying a small paper down on the table, Eric began to manufacture an expertly rolled spliff, and only then did Y/N notice… both of his hands were occupied, and yet her ankle was still being stroked. Shifting her eyes, she caught sight of Michael, peering over his glass at her with impatient eyes, his other hand out of sight. Noticing he’d been found out at last, he lifted his head in exaggerated confusion, darting around and attempting to look elsewhere. Despite herself, Y/N stifled a giggle.

“Coming?” Eric asked softly with a smile as he rose from the bench, and Y/N quickly withdrew her now tingling ankles.

The grounds at Heron Bay included paths perfect for meandering afternoon strolls without straying very far from the main house. This afternoon, Eric and Y/N chose the garden route, passing a tidy swimming pool, and over a small bridge toward the far end of the beach. Clasping hands, their arms swung gently between them as they walked.

“I wonder if I’ve taken enough photos of this place yet.” said Y/N when they stepped off of the bridge. “I don’t ever want to forget how beautiful it is, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to remember all the details.”

“We can always come back, you know,” said Eric. “I wouldn’t pass up another few weeks.

“What about you?” he asked and gently pulled her toward him, wrapping an arm around her back as if they were to start dancing. “Are you having a wonderful time?”

“Wonderful!” replied Y/N with a wide smile.

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm!”

“You sure?”

His tone was not doubtful, but the slight furrowing of his gentle eyebrows showed concern. But what was he getting at? Was she not convincing?

“Well I… I guess I’m not really used to being away from home for so long. Especially not somewhere with table service, and a tennis court, and dinner with The Rolling Stones. It’s, um… it’s a lot. But it’s wonderful!”

They continued their stroll along the beach hand-in-hand as before. The mood was once again slow and easy and peaceful, though Eric seemed ever so slightly more pensive – a typical development when “partaking in grass,” as he liked to describe it.

“Have you been talking to Michael?” he asked suddenly.

“Michael?” Y/N repeated.

“He’s great with this sort of thing.”

What sort of thing? she wanted to ask. She still felt uneasy asking Eric to repeat himself or clarify something, as if querying him was proof that they were somehow not in sync like he believed they were. But hadn’t they just had a moment of silent connection earlier?

Stupid, silly girl. She smartened up. Just speak. But just as she opened her mouth, Eric spoke again.

“So have you fallen in love with him yet?”

“What?” Y/N was breathless.

“Everyone falls in love with Mike Palin at some point,” he explained with one of his cheekier smiles.

“I uh...” she faltered, whether from the suggestion or from Eric’s grin, she wasn’t sure. “I don’t think so, no.”

Eric took a long pull on his gradually disappearing joint and nodded.

“Give it time,” he said with confidence. “You’ll see.”

They soon came across a small secluded bower, lightly shaded by swaying trees that dotted the coastline. Here they would pause for a while, away from disturbance, with only the ocean to meet them.

Y/N sat between Eric’s long legs, his arms at either side of her, resting on his knees. She leaned back into his warm chest and he kissed her ear. It seemed like a long time since they had last been alone together – work on the film script had taken over the day time, and famous visitors kept their nights busy and bustling. Y/N pondered the photos she had already taken, and how even the best ones couldn’t capture this current bliss: the warmth of the sun and the ground, the waves hushing in the near distance, the earthy and fiery smell from Eric’s quality cannabis, and his long and loving limbs around her.

After several minutes of comforting silence, Eric spoke:

“So,” he blew out quickly, “what do you think about getting married?”

Y/N turned on her spot to look at him, feeling her heartbeat quicken.

“I think you’re a little too stoned to be proposing right now.”

“I don’t mea-…” he began, cutting himself off with laughter. “I’m not proposing, I just wanted to know your thoughts on it. I guess Ricky and Penny got me thinking, and… and I was just… thinking.”

Y/N kept a focus on him. He wasn’t used to stumbling over words, but now… what was she going to say?

“And I’m not stoned,” he managed to get out through breathy nervous laughter.

“Well, I think…” Y/N turned her gaze to the surrounding trees, and tried to consider her words carefully.

“I think a lot of people these days do it for the wrong reasons, or they think they have to. I look around and see so many marriages falling apart that it kind of takes the romance out of it.”

Eric gave another few nods as he took a final drag.

“If I get married,” said Y/N, “I’m going to have to really want to stay together, y’know? And not just give up when something gets tough. Otherwise what’s the point?”

“Well, there’s money,” suggested Eric sarcastically, and he stubbed out the remains of his joint on a nearby rock.

“Money…” Y/N repeated. She slowly turned to face him again.

“Yeah, marry for money, and then split with a nice settlement.”

“What a great idea,” she said, meeting his hazy expression.

“You think so?”

“Mhmm,” she hummed, and her lips hovered above his. “Sounds sleazy. I like it.”

“Yeah, it suits you.”

They kissed slowly, with no rush or anticipation. Herbal sweetness lingered on Eric’s lips, and Y/N delighted in their soft encouragement.

“Hmm. So, how much money you got?” she asked with pretend seriousness, back to playing the game after their make out.

“Well…” he began. He spoke slowly but animated. “I’ve got… ninety-thousand pounds… in my pyjamas.”

“Oh yeah?” She knew where this was going.

“And I’ve got forty thousand French francs in my fridge…”

“Oh no,” she groaned and dropped her head onto his bony chest. Eric was infamous for bursting into song, particularly ones he was quite proud of having performed for Python.

“There is nothing quite as wonderful as money -,” he began the silly song, bouncing his knees and shoulders as he sang, and snaking his arms around her waist.

“Fuck off, you capitalist!” Y/N protested, though she couldn’t help her laughter.

She was only just able to silence him with kisses, but their shared laughter continued as they lay on the soft ground, rolled over together, and made themselves more comfortable for an afternoon romp.