#ALSO INTRODUCING (for the last chapter because of course) HOVER TEXT!!!

[thegingerjedi]

Chapters: 9/9 Fandom: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic, Star Wars - All Media Types Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Female Bounty Hunter/Torian Cadera Characters: Female Bounty Hunter (Star Wars), Torian Cadera, Mako (Star Wars), Gault Rennow, Blizz (Star Wars) Series: Part 2 of Aliit ori'shya tal'din Summary:

SPOILERS FOR BOUNTY HUNTER STORY LINE Following the progression of the relationship between the Champion of the Great Hunt, Nlusta'ceasa'lirnimu, and Torian Cadera through the story line of the Bounty Hunter. Staceasa is still the brittle Chiss, burying her fears of losing the people she cares about rather than confronting them. Despite her best efforts, Torian slowly breaks down her walls and teaches her that it's okay to love again.

“You’re wrong about Mandalorians,” she growled, “and you’re wrong about me.”

Seros groaned loudly, rocking back and forth on the floor while the barrel of her blaster followed his movement, pointed directly between his eyes. Her eyes locked with his for a moment, and she took the shot, watching as his body went limp.

The adrenaline washed out of her, and she suddenly felt like her armor was too heavy, her blasters too big, her body cold and aching. Torian stood silently behind her, waiting for her reaction before he did anything. And when she unceremoniously dropped the blasters from her hands and turned around, he was there in front of her, his arms wrapping around her and his mouth pressing a kiss to her forehead. Staceasa held him tightly, pressing her face against his shoulder as she cried.

“Udesii,” he soothed gently, “Demagolka kyrayc.”

“Mhi parji,” she breathed.

Torian nodded against her head in affirmation.

It was done, then. Truly well and done. Jun Seros was dead, the Champions avenged.

And she felt empty.

No jubilation at righting an injustice. No satisfaction from bringing an evil-doer to his knees. No joy in doing a deed for her brethren. All she felt was empty and alone. She’d avenged her chosen family, yes, but that didn’t bring them back from the dead. They were still gone, and killing the Jedi Master did nothing to change that.

She felt Torian’s soft breaths against her ears as he breathed Mando’a encouragements to her.

But of course, she wasn’t alone. She still had the Mandalorians, Clan Lok, her crew, Torian. Torian, who’d felt the loss of family like she had. Torian, who’d shown her that she was safe to tear down her walls for him. Torian, who’d always stood by her side but never spoken over her.

She squeezed him tighter, wishing there wasn’t so much armor between them.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured.

[mggssocks]

Followed- part 2

Not My Gif!

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Content Warnings: regular criminal minds stuff. (please let me know if i missed anything!)

Summary: Spencer makes an Instagram and stumbles across reader’s page.

Word Count: 2.2k +

A/N: Thank you so much for the love i have received on my last chapter!!! It means so much to me. Also i’m going to try to update chapters as much as i can but i’m graduating in a few weeks and i will have a lot going on. But again, thank you guys!!! xoxo

masterlist // part 1

Although he was only going off of a few hours of sleep, Spencer came to work with a pep in his step today. His interaction with this girl was very brief but he still got butterflies with the thought. He was early as usual so he made himself a cup of coffee and sat at his desk, settling in. He pulled out his phone and reread the text messages that the two of you shared. When he finished reading the short message thread, his thumb hovered over the letter G. He wanted to type “good morning” but he didn’t want to come off as too clingy or overbearing. That in fact was the last thing he wanted. 

“Hey Spence” he hears from behind him, causing him to jump and quickly lock his phone before shoving it into his coat pocket. 

“Hi” he turns around to see JJ and forms his mouth into a straight line. 

She eyes him weirdly. Something was up.

“Everything okay?” She asked. Knowing how Spencer was, she wasn’t expecting him to answer truthfully. Especially with him jumping startledly like he just did at a simple ‘hi’.

“No- yeah. Yeah I’m fine. What about you? Are you okay?” He asked to switch the conversation around. 

Yeah. Something was definitely up.

“I’m… fine?” She answers confused

He nods awkwardly. She was just about to ask him if he was sure that he was fine but everyone else started to walk in and she knew if he was being this secretive with her, he definitely wouldn’t want everyone else to be in his business. So she drops it… at least for now. 

Garcia speed walked into the bullpen with a file or two in her hand, not bothering to say anything to the team. She goes straight to the conference room.

“Looks like we have a case” Morgan declared as he walked past the desks and up the stairs. Everyone else followed.

“And from the looks of it, it’s bad,” says Emily. 

They settle in their seats as Garcia passes Spencer his case file while everyone else gets on their tablets.

“We’re going to Wichita, Kansas.” Hotch says as he was the last one to come into the conference room.

“This sicko stabs straight through the heart. They chop off as much hair as they can before shoving it in the victim’s mouths.” Garcia speaks, a little disturbed a little while avoiding her gaze from the screen.

“Four victims within one week. There’s no cooling off period at all” Morgan said, swiping through his tablet.

“Which is why we’re debriefing on the jet. Wheels up.”

——————

After the team debriefed on the jet, Garcia chimed in through the video chat.“Guys, A store owner just found another victim.” 

The team looks at one another. Hotch sighs momentarily before speaking.

“Alright, JJ, you and Reid to the M.E. Morgan and Rossi go to the latest crime scene and Prentiss and I will go and set up at the station.” 

Everyone nods their head at their temporary partners for confirmation.

————

“So on the first victim, the person hesitated.” The examiner spoke factually.

“-And on the other four he didn’t hesitate at all” spoke JJ, trying to get the bigger picture. 

“Exactly. Now with the new victim… I noticed something strange. “ She walked over to the newest victim from earlier that day and the agent and dr followed her.

She turned the woman’s head and revealed a cat-like scratch with three of them synchronized.

JJ and Spencer looked at each other. After they called the other team members to fill them in, they walked to the car in pure silence.

“So… this morning” says JJ, walking to the driver’s side.

Spencer gives her a questioning look as he takes the passenger seat.

“What about this morning?” He asked in a suspicious tone and avoided her gaze by looking out of the window.

“You don’t have to tell me anything, Spence, but I know something’s going on. Just tell me that it’s nothing bad.” She put her seatbelt on.

Spencer didn’t dare to give in “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

——————- 

After three days, they finally caught the unsub. The man was purely a sick and twisted psychopath. Jeffery Magnum. A 30 year old man who was severely abused as a child. His mother would make him eat the cat’s fur balls for dinner and when he refused, she would shave him bald. His mother died and that was the stressor that made him begin to kill.

As they boarded the plane, Morgan, Prentiss, and JJ sat together in the four seats. Rossi and Hotch sat together in the seats across from each other behind them. Spencer sat on the couch, far away from everyone. He wasn’t trying to distance himself. He just wanted to sit alone.

He pulled his phone out. He hasn’t thought much about that girl since he’s obviously been busy but now he was thinking about her. When he opened the app, he saw that she had posted a story. Before he watched her story, he clicked on her account and scrolled a little. She posted a lot of books and her cat too. Spencer really liked this one in particular.

26 likes

Yourinstagram I looked up from my book and seen this. thought it was a great photo op. 

View all 11 comments

He comes across a picture that really catches his attention.

11 likes

Yourinstagram okay just finished these two Jung books. He’s officially my favorite psychology/ prolific author. Freud’s got nothing on this guy.

View 1 comment

Spencer nodded his head approvingly. He swiped back to look at her Instagram story. 

He swiped up, thinking of a way to start a conversation. He just wanted to talk. About what? He doesn’t know.

spencerreid what’s tomorrow?

As expected, she didn’t respond right away. Instead of waiting for a response, Spencer picks up a book to occupy his attention. About 15 minutes later, his phone vibrates and an Instagram notification pops up. It catches the attention of JJ and she looks from the corner of her eye.

Spencer let’s 3 minutes pass by before responding because he didn’t want to seem too eager to talk to her. Although he definitely was.

yourinstagram nothing special! I’m a pastry chef so I’m just preparing them for the week! 

spencerreid Do you have some sort of bakery?

yourinstagram yup :)

Spencer didn’t know what to text back. So he started a new conversation with her.

spencerreid By the way I was looking at your page and seen that you read Carl Jung books.

yourinstagram you were stalking my page??

He started to panic. He didn’t mean it like a weirdo.

spencerreid I didn’t mean it like that. I just wanted to see what you were about, I guess.

yourinstagram relax haha I was kidding. And yes I do like Carl Jung books. What about you? Jung or Freud?

spencerreid I’m a fan of both, though I feel as if Jung was more open minded.

yourinstagram you, my friend, have great taste.

Although he knew “my friend” was just a term, Spencer couldn’t help but let a smile spread across his face. 

JJ notices and nudges Morgan who was listening to music. Prentiss notices JJ’s act and she gives her a questioning look. JJ nods her head towards Reid who was smiling at his phone. Emily who was sitting next to the window across from Morgan leaned over the seat to get a peek at Spencer.

She looks back to JJ. “What?”

“He’s been acting weird since before we left for this case. Like… secretive.”

Derek quirks an eyebrow. “You think he’s got something going on?” 

JJ shrugs.

“Hey” Emily says to Spencer.

He doesn’t necessarily jump but he was obviously startled. 

“What are you smiling about?” She asked. JJ and Derek watched as he fumbled over his words.

“I- uh-just- just a joke” Spencer cringed internally, because not even he, himself was buying it.

“What’s the joke?” Derek asked.

“It’s… nothing you would find amusing.” 

The three pretended to believe him and gave each other subtle glances before continuing what they were doing. Spencer turned back to his phone.

yourinstagram I’m y/n by the way. Just thought I’d formally introduce myself.

spencerreid I’m Spencer.

yourinstagram It’s nice to meet you, Spencer.

spencerreid It’s nice to meet you as well, Y/N.

After the jet landed, it was only 3:00 in the afternoon. Hotch gave them the rest of the day off so Spencer decided to head home and catch up on some sleep that he’s missed these past few days. 

He knew that it’d be terrible traffic on his way home. But since he stupidly decided to drive to work a few days ago, he couldn’t take the subway. He had to drive home. After about 10 minutes of sitting in his car calculating the fastest route home during traffic hours, he decides to take a way that he’s never taken before.

It would take him about thirty minutes but on his normal route during traffic hours, it would take him an hour and twenty. 

While driving, he catches a glimpse of a bakery and his stomach automatically growls. He decided that he’d stop by. Spencer walked into the shop and it wasn’t very busy. He looked over all of the options while waiting for someone to come to the counter.

A girl soon trails around dusting her hands off on her yellow apron. Her hair tied back in a ponytail.

“Hi. How can I help you?” She gives a kind smile.

“Uh- can I have two of the Danish pastries And a water?” He asked.

“Of course! Will that be all?” She puts some clear gloves on and makes her way over to the pastries.

“Yes” Spencer answers, digging through his satchel for his wallet.

She puts the treats in an apricot colored box, closed with a sticker with the name of the bakery. 

She puts the order in and looks back up at him “That’ll be $5.37!” 

He’s finally able to get a feel for his wallet and pulls out his card, handing it to her. She swipes it and hands it back over to him after it was approved along with his box and a reusable water bottle. He murmurs a thank you before leaving and heading to his apartment, enjoying the delicious danishes and finishing up some case files.

*******

“Seriously, Y/n. There’s so many relationship opportunities in Virginia. And you’re thinking about someone from a social media platform. You’ve never even seen them.” Your older sister lectures you as you close up the shop.

“Woah woah woah. I never said anything about a relationship with him. He’s nice but I’m not going to date someone over the internet. For all I know, he could be from England. I just said we both have an understandable love for Carl Jung in common.” You explained.

“Mom is worried about you. You’re thirty and you haven’t even found someone you’re interested in.” She lifts her eyebrow.

“She doesn’t need to worry about me. And every single woman doesn’t need to get married and settle down in their thirties.” you argue back

“She wants grandchildren, y/n. And not just from one of her kids.” 

“Look. I’m fine. You guys need to stop with the pressuring. I’m happy and I have all that I can ask for right now. When that time comes then it comes but for right now, i’m content” You shrug as you lock up all of the treats in the display cases.

She gives up the argument. And there is a weight of silence that fell between the two of you.

“Alright. Dave and the kids are expecting me so I'm going to get some pizza and head home.” she says, breaking the silence.

“Okay. Love you. Be safe. Bye” you say to her. 

After locking up the shop, you head home and when you open your door, you are greeted by your cat, Luna. After locking the door, you kneel down to properly greet your baby.

“Hey, girl” you pick her up and make your way to the kitchen, opening the fridge to see what options you had to eat for dinner.

You decided on some grilled cheese and tomato soup so that’s what you made.

*****

You throw the crust down on your plate, flipping the page of the book you were almost done with. You were curled up on the side of the couch with Luna sleeping by your feet. After finishing the last page, you were bored enough to go onto twitter and then instagram. 

As you make your way to his dm, you bite your lip, hesitant to say something. You didn’t often speak to people through social media. But he’s already texted first so the least you can do is text something first this time. You were uncertain, but you did it anyway.

yourinstagram hey

You mentally smack yourself as you look at the time. He’s probably already slee-

spencerreid Hi.

yourinstagram i was thinking….

spencerreid About?

yourinstagram I told you what i do for a living. I figured it’s only right that you told me what you do..

spencerreid I’m in the FBI. I’m a profiler.

yourinstagram that’s pretty impressive.

You didn’t know it but Spencer was blushing.

spencerreid Thank you.

yourinstagram you’re based in D.C right?

spencerreid That would be correct.

yourinstagram That’s funny.

spencereid Why is it funny?

yourinstagram because I live in D.C too.

[bundleofyarrow]

Bundle of Yarrow Chapter 9 is up!

the 9th chapter of my Milo x Reader fic Bundle of Yarrow is up! you can read it below the cut or over at AO3. this chapter is mostly inspired by an ask wanting to see a scene of Milo getting jealous! see my attempt at creating tension as you struggle to deal with suddenly being a part of the gym challenge.

Exiting Motostoke was like shifting into a completely different setting. The west side of the city was dominated by warehouses and loading equipment. Sounds of metal against metal and tumbling construction material overwhelms the magic feel of the city. Instead, haze from billowing smokestacks and whiffs of waste occupied your senses as you walked through to Route 3. You never thought you’d miss the Wild Area, but you would trade this for the scent of the forests any day.

“Whew! Now I remember why I never visit Turffield on foot unless it’s from Hulbury.” Sonia complains, waving a hand in front of her nose. “I think the last time I’ve been to Route 3 was for our gym challenge!”

Earlier in the day, Sonia showed you a statue of a hero with a sword and shield in the lobby of the Budew Drop Inn while you waited for Leon to get ready. She was reading the inscription and looking information up online while writing in her notebook. It was an interesting listen, hearing about Galarian folklore and the mysteries that remained. Her excitement and curiosity was infectious. Even though you had little relationship to this region’s mythologies, you were becoming invested in her adventure for finding out the truth. Apparently there are ancient sites in Turffield that may have leads for her research, so she decided to walk with you over to your first stop in the gym challenge.

“You don’t have to rough it with me, you know. You’re able to take a flying taxi over to Turffield.” You offer nonchalantly, not trying to give away that you do indeed want her company, but don’t want to feel like a bother. “It’s just me that has to do all the walking.”

“Absolutely not.”

A few paces behind you was Leon, except upon a cursory glance you might not be able to tell. He was dressed in joggers and a hoodie that contained his hair, complete with wrap-around sports sunglasses that tinted your reflection in yellows and greens. This is the first time you’ve seen Leon incognito, more used to his open, public displays of celebrity. In a group chat with you and Sonia, Nessa gossiped about Leon getting scolded by League higher-ups and was told to not be seen with you anymore. He was also given a bunch of work by Chairman Rose related to some new energy plan Marcos Cosmos was prototyping. Leon wouldn’t tell you more than that, only he was escorting you to the Galar Mines on the other side of Route 3, picking up some samples, and heading to Hammerlocke, which you learned is a city north of the Wild Area.

You couldn’t put your finger on it exactly, but it felt like Leon was hovering over you all day so far. He would reach for things to give to you the moment you were about to get them yourself, or he would take your coffee cup while you were texting on your phone. Leon insisted that he come along with you because you needed some training to do well at the gym challenge. You still weren’t completely sure about this whole gym challenge thing, but you figured he was right, given he’s a champion and all.

Things weren’t exactly settled with you though. When you woke up, your phone had a huge influx of notifications from Pokegram. Turns out that Raihan posted the selfies he took with you at dinner on his account and tagged you. This only seemed to stoke the speculation online about a relationship between you and Leon. While the idea didn’t offend you, things definitely didn’t feel like there was romance in the air. He always acted weird towards you, despite making advances on you twice. Not to mention, there has to be something going on him with and Sonia…

“It’s nice to do the walkin’ sometimes! Durin’ challenge season things get so busy, there’s no choice but to use flyin’ taxis.”

It was hard not to smile with Milo’s matter-of-fact optimism, seeming to be in a much better mood today and back to his usual pleasant self. He walked next to you with that permanent soft rise in the corners of his lips, not looking at all encumbered holding bags of last minute grocery shopping you did. Early this morning he actually went to get the group coffee and tea while you dragged yourselves out of bed and got ready to leave. On your way past the markets of the city you remember how you wanted to stock up on some cooking materials for the trip, and might have went a smidge overboard. You wanted to get some fresher ingredients for the first couple of days, so you got some sausage to cook for tonight and a good medley of mushrooms and veggies for tomorrow. After that, you knew you had to get things that preserve for a bit, so you also bought some potatoes and pre-cooked burger sealed tight, along with a couple cups of emergency instant noodles. And of course, plenty of curry mix! What escaped your calculations was how much all of that would weigh, and the current lack of space in your bag.

And as if on cue, with little effort at all, Milo just lifted the bag out of your arms and informed everyone he was joining you all on the trek over to Turffield. You were quite surprised, since he probably needed to get to his gym to prepare for the first wave of challengers. Milo said he wanted to stretch his legs and take things slowly before the rush, but you wondered if that was the full story. Come to think of it, this was when Leon’s weird behavior began.

As the group crossed out of Motostoke and to the dirt path of Route 3, Leon stopped you. He was scoping out the rustling in the tall grass and took notice of young trainers loitering around hoping to get some practice in. When he turns to you, he has a bit of a smirk and hands on his hips.

“Okay, it’s time to get serious about your training! Let’s go over some basics and give you some strategy.” He holds up eight fingers, four on each hand. “So there are eight gyms, what is unique about them?”

You blink a couple of times. “They all specialize in different types, even I know that Le-” He quickly makes a hushing gesture with a finger over his mouth. “Um, mysterious Mr. Man?” Sonia doesn’t hide her giggle.

“So you have to visit each of these in an order, right? It only makes sense that you try to capture and train Pokemon that have type advantages for your next gym. Then when you get to the championships, which you will, you can select the Pokemon you’ve bonded with the best to train for the end.”

“This feels like cheating, but okay.” You look over to Milo, who is looking down the route but casually listening in. “So it’s your gym first, and I feel like everyone has been saying you like Grass types?”

Milo smiles at you and gives a thumbs up. “You got it! In fact, you already met the Pokemon you’ll be battlin’.” That must mean the ones he introduced to you while you were camping.

“Right, now Milo isn’t that much of a challenge,” Milo stiffens a bit at Leon’s comment. “So as long as you find the right types, you can win pretty easy. Since his gym challenge only uses two Pokemon, you only need two yourself. And I’ll help you train!” His grin only widens, he’s really into this. “Do you know what is good against Grass?”

You try to remember the times you’d have lunch and Hop would force Gloria to quiz him on type matchups. Whether it’s helpful or not, you try to imagine literal grass and what it wouldn’t like. “Fire, Bugs, umm… and Ice?”

Leon nods. “Also Flying and Poison, so there are plenty of choices to beat Milo with.” Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Milo’s smile is gone and his expression is very difficult to read. It’s not that nervous, fumbling side that comes out every once in a while, it’s… something else. “This route is the habitat for a few fire Pokemon, Growlithe, Vulpix, and if you’re willing to do some searching, there’s Sizzlipedes too. And catching you a Rookidee wouldn’t hurt either. I can train you with the Thwackey I have on me, we need to work on your battling form.”

It’s hard to not feel a bit overwhelmed by everything Leon is shooting at you. But before you can protest much, he leads you down the route to begin your training. He gets nearby trainers to battle you, coaching you from how you throw your Pokeball to giving commands. Yelling orders at your Pokemon makes you deeply uncomfortable, so you try to work around Leon’s advising by cheering them on or getting better at reading the situation and relaying that information to them. You can tell Leon is biting his tongue, because while it seems like you’re winning battles, they aren’t decisive wins.

After a fight with a girl’s Vulpix, you crouch down to pet Pancham and tend to her burns. She didn’t seem to have an issue with battling at all, in fact, she’s basking in her victory. But hearing her cries when attacked was dreadful. It made you want to quit right then and there. “You’ll get a little extra curry tonight.” For some reason, your other Pokeballs shake upon hearing that.

When you rise and return Pancham to her Pokeball, you feel a strong hand on your back. “Good work, you’ll be battling me in no time!” You can see Leon’s eyes sparkle when he looks over his sunglasses at you. “I can now see what Milo was talking about, you care about your Pokemon above all other concerns. It’s hard to be that way during a fight though, during a Pokemon battle all you can think about is winning.”

You sigh a bit hearing that, and Leon soon directs you into the tall grass to find a fire Pokemon of your own. “You have a Vanillite, but it’s better to explore some more options before you settle on including her into your lineup.” It doesn’t take long to reconfirm that you are horrible at throwing Pokeballs, and you realize that you most likely only caught Yamper and Vanillite because they wanted to be caught, just with a bit of a fight first. The idea of forcing a Pokemon to join you twists your stomach. You attempt to talk to all the wild Pokemon Leon wanted you to catch but none responded very well.

“We’re really going to have to work on your throwing arm. Here, let me catch-”

“No.” You say with more force than you meant. “I don’t like doing it this way. My Pokemon picked me, and I want to keep it that way.”

Leon crosses his arms over his chest, cocking his head to the side and raising an eyebrow. “But how are you going to get the Pokemon you want? I admit I’m impressed that Pokemon seem to choose you willingly, and they want to fight for you. But you’re supposed to be doing the choosing, not them. You’re a Pokemon trainer now, have to get into a different mentality.”

Sonia and Milo have mostly been chatting between themselves while trailing behind you and Leon. They both give you a reassuring touch on the shoulder or elbow whenever he gets particularly tough in his instruction with you. It’s clear to you now why Leon is the champion, he can see the entire world from the perspective of a Pokemon battle. Every piece of information relates to how he can win or is discarded. On the other hand, you were interested in the story of each of your charges, wanting them to grow and live the lives they wanted to pursue. They chose you not because you were aiming to become the best, but rather some other adventure you had yet to fully define.

“I think you’re doin’ a great job.” You turn to Milo, who’s smiling. Thinking of him cheering you on sends some tingles throughout your body. “It’s nice to see someone go about being a trainer in a different way.”

“You’re just saying that because you want an easy win!” Leon smirks at Milo, slinging one arm around your tire shoulders. “Don’t listen to him, I’ll make it so you’re unbeatable for your adventure.” That unreadable expression returns to Milo’s face, and you watch his eyes lock onto where Leon’s hand is grasping your shoulder. “We’ll resume lessons soon, let’s take a break.” He gives you a quick squeeze and lets go to lead you forward.

It’s only now that you notice the sun was just starting to fall past its zenith. In a nearby clearing Sonia lays out a blanket and Milo tears apart some bread that he got at the cafe earlier this morning to pass around for a snack. You all are mostly quiet, probably for different reasons. You feel like there are maybe a pair of eyes or two on you, but you’re staring off into the distance as you mull over Leon’s attitude towards being a Pokemon trainer. However, it’s not long before the group notices a lingering smell of something unsavory. Sonia shoots a glare over to Leon while covering her lower face with her hand. “Ew Leon, was that you??”

“Sonia!” Leon practically screeched, turning a bright shade of red. “Why are you so quick to accuse me!?”

As they bicker, Milo leans towards you and points out into the distance past the route. There’s a factory with smoke drifting from it in the air, surrounded with carts full of what looks to be coal. “That’s a Marcos Cosmos energy plant over there, turnin’ ore into power.” You can tell Milo is trying to not breathe through his nose as he talks, and it takes you a bit of effort to not giggle at how cute he sounds. “Chairman Rose pretty much owns every method of generatin’ energy here in Galar. It probably smells because this is a crosswind point for the industrial district of Motostoke ‘n the factory.”

But the smell only gets stronger, and soon you hear some rustling in the nearby foliage. Sonia’s Yamper begins to bark as suddenly the source of the strong smell presents itself to you all: a Trubbish. Your friends instantly reel and move away from the Pokemon. “Let’s find somewhere else!” Sonia chokes through as she tries to grab her belongings.

You’re familiar with the Trubbish from Alola, where they gathered around cities. But you knew that most Trubbish only smell when they aren’t really in contact with people, as the stench is mostly a defense mechanism in the wild. On TV you remember multiple ad campaigns against Trubbish abuse, and that the Recycling Center harbored many that were put to work and happily coexisted with people. So your first reaction wasn’t to get up and run, but to tear your piece of bread in half and offer it to the Trubbish.

Leon calls your name. “What are you doing?? Let’s get out of here! Trubbish always leave sludge on your things and can attract other Trubbish miles away.”

“There’s a reason this Trubbish came to us. He’s hungry and must have been unable to find some food. Maybe the days before challenge season are the least traversed, so there are few people around littering.”

The Trubbish looks between your face and the bread a few times before waddling over to you. Even though the smell was no less than putrid, you did your best to smile and make it not seem like you were breathing through your mouth. “Go on, have some. And if you’d like, I can cook you some food later! What do you think about some sausage curry?”

You don’t need to see them to know your friends were gawking as the Trubbish takes the bread from you and the two of you eat your pieces together as a sign of friendliness. It was hard to notice at first, but as the breeze picks up you can tell Trubbish’s smell was beginning to disappear. Finishing the bread, he jingled happily, if the clanging of the trash items inside him could be considered jingling. Trubbish epitomized ugly-cute for you, but you didn’t want him to know that.

“All better for now?” You rise to your feet when he jumps and jingles some more. He kind of reminds you of your Vanillite, who you bring out of her Pokeball. “Something tells me you two will be friends, how about you keep each other company while we travel?”

It is clear Trubbish absolutely adores Vanillite, and you hope it’s not because he wants to eat her for looking like ice cream. But your Vanillite soon warms up, if still below freezing, pretty quickly when she notices the Trubbish doesn’t mind her cold temperatures. Once they start chattering you turn around, freezing when you see three pairs of eyes staring at you. Leon was straight-up slack jawed. “G-guys, what??”

Sonia is the first to speak up. “I’ve never seen someone speak to a Trubbish like that before… Brilliant! Had no idea their smell went away.”

Leon’s hand was pensively rubbing his chin as he looked at you and your Pokemon. “Not many people go through the trouble of taming a Trubbish. I can count on one hand the amount of times I’ve fought one as Champion.”

Milo isn’t quick to say anything, but he is positively beaming at you, to the point where you think his gaze would make you melt. You walk towards the others to start again down the route, and the two Pokemon jingle behind you. “It looks a bit like magic whenever I see ya talk to Pokemon.” He finally remarks, lightly touching his fingertips to your arm for a quick second. If you weren’t paying attention you wouldn’t have noticed the contact, but whenever his skin touches yours, you can feel the warmth radiate from his body.

“You’re not going to catch him?” Leon looks confused, only continuing to walk when you pass by him. “I thought that’s the reason why you did that?”

“Oh, I didn’t do that because I wanted to catch him. It just seemed like the right thing to do.” You give a slight shrug to Leon’s question. “If he gets along with our Pokemon well and seems to be having a fun time, I’ll offer him a Pokeball and he can decide. He is a Poison type, so that’s one I should get, right?” You can’t help but smile at Leon’s puzzled expression. “I at least owe him some cooking first!”

You encounter more battling school children down Route 3, probably because everyone can see Milo’s distinctive silhouette rather easily. Leon coaches you through battling with Vanillite as Trubbish and the others watch, but barking orders still doesn’t come naturally to you. During a battle with a girl’s Purrloin, you realize it’s not that you lack the confidence. Rather, you just don’t see your Pokemon as a means to an end for winning matches. Leon seems to be critiquing you less and more watching your style, how you trust Vanillite to react instinctively to the battle. It’s clear her ice attacks are getting stronger, and that she’s good at taunting and then countering with blasts of snow.

~*~*~*~

As the sun begins to near the horizon, Milo leads everyone up a hill to what looks like the highest point in Route 3. There are already other tents set up in the area, so the four of you get to work creating a little corner with the three tents between you all. The campsite quickly becomes a bit of a circus when everyone lets their Pokemon out: your five, Milo’s three, Sonia’s Yamper, Leon’s Charizard and Thwackey along with the wild Trubbish.

The two men go off to collect firewood, Sonia visits a nearby berry tree, and you begin to slice up some sausage. The Pokemon are cautious of Trubbish, but Vanillite seems to be acting as a liaison. Before you know it, they are romping and battling each other. Every once in a while one would scamper over to smell the sausage, but were satisfied with some pets and a promise that dinner would be ready soon. Milo’s Pokemon mostly hung around his tent and Charizard sat next to you watching the others. It begins to dawn on you that this is starting to feel familiar. You pause for a second, setting the knife down and just gazing out to where the Pokemon were playing. The Yampers were thick as thieves by now, chasing your Wooloo, Pancham, and now Leon’s Thwackey around. Lombre relaxed with Milo’s Pokemon while Vanillite and Trubbish seemed to be practicing techniques with each other. Charizard nuzzled your shoulder, an eye trained on the sausage as you pet him.

Milo and Leon were the first to return, looking to be in good spirits. It didn’t occur to you until now that they probably were friends, both being major figures in the League and all. They stacked the firewood and Leon got Charizard to light it up. But it wasn’t long that you noticed Leon was watching your Pokemon with a look of concern, arms crossed over his chest again.

“Is something wrong, Leon?”

He looks to you for a second before looking back at the playing Pokemon. “It might not be the best idea to let them battle unsupervised, especially when they are new to you and undisciplined. You’ll want to make sure they are developing the right habits.” You’re not entirely sure how to answer, because you know he’s probably right but you couldn’t think of anything more unpleasant. Leon turns back to you and crouches by the fire. “You’ve been working hard all day, how about I cook dinner and you take a break?”

You shake your head and notice Sonia returning with an armful of berries. “Let me do this, to make up for worrying you these past few days. It would mean a lot for me to cook for you.” You smile at Leon, and hear Milo busying himself with his Eldegoss who seem to be giving him a piece of their minds over something. “Plus, I promised Pancham and Trubbish some curry!”

Sonia hands you the berries she found and you sift through what she found. While she got you a good number, it seemed like there wasn’t a diverse selection on this route. Sausage is one of the better meats to react to sweetness, so you decide to base the roux of the curry on pecha berries with a few oran ones mixed in for balance.

When Leon and Sonia join the playing Pokemon, Milo comes to sit down next you. “Can I help with anythin’?”

You nod absent-mindedly as you compare berry sizes and count out how many you need. “Would you mind getting the rice going? That would be helpful! We’re also going to need to crush the oran berries and stir them right into the curry mix. The pecha berries will need a slight roasting over the fire, then we’ll crush half of them and put in the others whole. I’ll also brown the sausage over the fire before adding it in and then let everything cook. What do you think?”

When you look over to Milo, he’s smiling. Of course. And that funny feeling in your stomach takes over again. Of course. You really wish you knew what was happening to you. He doesn’t seem to be having as much of a messy internal monologue as you are. “Sounds amazin’! Were you a chef back ‘n Alola?”

You chuckle a bit as you sort the berries, Milo instinctively taking the ones to be mashed. “No not at all, I don’t know if I’m that good at cooking really.” You skewer slices of sausage and pecha on thinner sticks you find in the wood pile, preparing them for roasting.

“But you’re quite deliberate when you cook. Most people throw anythin’ in the pot and hope for the best.” You’re sure that Milo counts himself among most people, though he seems like the type that can eat anything and everything. He checks the temperature of the water in a smaller pot before adding the rice in, and you take that as a sign to pour the curry mix into the larger pot.

“I guess that’s true. Thinking on it, there’s just something special about making a good meal. Like, it’s one of the most satisfying things in life, eating good food that you made yourself, knowing others are happy because of something I did.” Milo pushes in the mashed berries into the curry while you prop up the skewers, lightly rotating them every once in a while over the fire. “Right now my mind is like, how can I make everyone happy with what I’ve got? I haven’t learned your preferences yet, but I feel like you’d enjoy this. And it would be really satisfying knowing that you did.”

Milo is quiet for a bit. You can’t tell if he’s thinking up a proper response or just taking in the moment. After you take down the skewers and toss the meat and remaining berries in, you begin to stir it all together. It smells how you imagine it, a savory-sweet smell which seems to waft over the camp since Pokemon are drawing nearer to the campfire. Sonia is back on her phone with her notebook in hand, and Leon is giving poor Thwackey a lecture. Curious noses sniff around the pot, but everyone can now read the look you give them to have some more patience.

“I can’t wait for you to see Turffield. I hope ya like it there.”

Milo’s voice was barely above a whisper, almost drowned out by the crackling fire and Pokemon chatter. You turn to him, a little taken back from his Eldegoss and Gossifleur staring at you expectantly. His face is in profile from your angle, shadows and light from the fire flickering across his cheek as he watches the curry bubble.

Before you respond, you feel mass of wool bump up against you. Wooloo immediately and consistently begins to bleat at you, crawling into your lap and staring at the pot of curry. You notice that all the other Pokemon have gathered around the campfire as well.

“Okay okay, it’s about done. You all should know that the longer it similar the more-” a range of Pokemon whines and protests erupt. How did you suddenly end up with so many children?

Leon takes the ladle before you can reach for it and begins to serve the curry over rice. With a smile he hands you the first bowl. “You earned it.” Soon enough the humans have their servings and the Pokemon gather around a few large bowls they share from.

The sounds of happy eating pleases you as the curry came out nicely. You’re glad that you decided to grill some of the ingredients to give the curry some texture and not get more sweet than savory. It could have done with more spice, you’ll have to make sure you gather some cheri or figy berries next time for when there aren’t any in nature.

“This is amazing!!” Leon regards you with his mouth full, with Sonia more politely covering her mouth as she nods beside him. “I didn’t know you could cook this well! Might be better than Sonia’s cooking.” Which then causes her to frown.

“I’ll remember that the next time you’re pawing at my tent door for breakfast.”

The two get into their usual back-and-forth, letting you shift your attention to Milo. He was shoveling his food down, probably needing seconds soon. “Did it come out alright?” Mouth full, he nods and chews at the same time.

As the night goes on, conversation inevitable gets back to the gym challenge. Though the two are friendly, you can’t help but sense some tension between Leon and Milo. It’s clear that Leon perceives Milo’s gym to not be much of a challenge, and expects you to only be in Turffield for a short while before heading to Hulbury. Apparently there’s a train station there and he can visit you from Hammerlocke easily when you get there. “I’m sure Sonia will want to hang out with Nessa for a while, too.”

That’s when you realize that, while not arrogant, Leon was quite used to getting his way and being the center of attention. He didn’t demand it really, but it seemed like he had this magnetism that drew people to him and he based his understanding of everything bending towards him. Leon never once asked for Milo’s input about his gym or your opinion on what you wanted your travel plans to be. It’s like he had this vision and just needed everyone to play their parts.

The Pokemon quickly tired out after eating and grouped up in different piles ready to sleep for the night. Social groups are definitely starting to form, though you don’t really see anything wrong with that. You’re happy that Vanillite, who usually wants to return to her Pokeball come bedtime, has found a cuddle buddy in Trubbish. Watching them makes you yawn, and it’s only now you realize how tired the day has made you.

“I think it’s time for you to turn in.” Leon rises from his spot next to Sonia and begins collecting the dishes. “If you’re going to make it to the other side of the mines before sunset, we’ll need to get up early in the morning.”

After another yawn, a hand reaches down from above; it’s Milo, with a soft smile on his face, the jade of his eyes almost glowing reflecting the fire. Always the gentleman. But when you take is hand, you can’t help but feel all those funny feelings again. You’re sensitive to the tactile nature of his hand, one that is calloused and used to manual labor, is firm in grip only just as much as it needs to be. It’s difficult to not notice his bicep flexing as he pulls you upwards. Upwards towards him, almost enough for you to bump into his chest. Thankfully it’s dark out and he probably can’t tell you’re flushed being this close to him. You realize he’s slow to let go of your hand, and he looks like he’s working up to say something to you.

Another’s hand grasps your shoulder and gives it a little squeeze. Leon’s. “Sleep in my tent tonight, okay?”

You’re caught off-guard by the request, but in an effort to not reveal how embarrassed you were feeling, you just nod. The cool night air brushes over your hand as Milo releases his hold and creates some space between the two of you. Leon goes to wash the dishes (with Charizard, or else he wouldn’t find his way back), Sonia lets the Yampers hop into her tent, and you’re alone with Milo. His eyes are downcast, and eventually he rubs the back of his neck as he turns away from you.

“We should get to sleepin’, huh?” The uncertainty in his voice intrigues you. His shoulders then square and he turns back to you, looking determined. “I guess I’m the first challenge in your adventure. I… won’t let ya go that easily.” Before you can respond, he nods to his Pokemon and heads into his tent. Maybe Milo won’t be as easy of a gym leader after all.

After putting out the fire and whispering good night to all the Pokemon, you take your bag and head inside Leon’s tent. Wooloo sneaks in after you, followed by Pancham and Thwackey. Looking around on the inside, you’re not really sure what you were expecting, it’s just a tent with usual camping things. You decide to unfurl your sleeping bag and change your clothes while Leon is still away. The three Pokemon settle in the middle of the tent, and you crawl into your sleeping bag.

When Leon returns, you hear the clanging of pots and dishes. Outside the tent he wishes Charizard a goodnight before entering. He grins seeing all the Pokemon resting next to you. “Now that’s a picture.” His Rotom zips out but he flails to catch it before it does anything. “No! I’ll be in so much trouble if that hits Pokegram.”

You raise an eyebrow. “What do you make off all that? I imagine you don’t take it seriously if you’re letting me sleep your tent.”

He scratches the back of his head. “Huh? I just want to talk battle strategies…”

As he launches into the typical moves that Gossifleur and Eldegoss use and their counters, you realize that he earnestly just wanted to talk Pokemon. And boy, can Leon talk about Pokemon battles. You feel a little guilty hogging him as a resource, wouldn’t Gloria and Hop benefit more from his guidance?

Milo’s parting words echo in your mind. The thought of battling him makes you uncomfortable, and it was like he drew that line between you two. It definitely sounded like he wasn’t going to make his battle with you easy. Thinking of Milo as an opponent just didn’t sit well with you.

You began to drift to sleep somewhere around the part where Leon mentions something about… Gigantics? Maxismist? Something like that, that future you can deal with as you think about a certain peach-haired man as you slip into your dreams.

[yayeetsonny]

New Beginnings~Chapter 3

This is shorter than I’d like but hopefully that’s okay. I noticed my timeline was all screwed up so the book is actually set in 2020, my bad. Also the pandemic doesn’t exist in this universe. Enjoy!

4 1/2 Months later…

Ryley PRO//

It’s been over 4 months since my accident and I am finally out of all my casts and no longer have to use a wheelchair to get around or write with my other hand. I won’t sugar coat it the first 4 months were hell and there was a lot of tears and lot of moments where I wanted to give up but Christen, Alex and our teammates made it all worth it. They helped me through the lows of physical therapy and they were there to celebrate the highs too. They had to return home after the first 2 weeks but came to visit at least once a month if not more. I was initially worried that I wasn’t going to recover in time for the Olympics at the end of July but after putting in a lot of work and pushing myself past my limits sometimes I was able to get through physical therapy much sooner than expected and I was able to show Vlatko that I still deserved a spot on that roster.

After that scare I had in the first month when I woke up not being able to breath the girls took me to a doctor and I learned that I did in fact have asthma and that I had experienced a laryngospasm because of it. I was given an inhaler and everything was explained to me so now I know what to do if it happens again, but I haven’t had one since, nor have I had any asthma attacks. Alex and Chris hovered a lot after that but now they’re much better at trusting that I’ll be okay.

I ended up finishing my junior year online and when I was able I moved back to the group home in Colorado. I didn’t want to but I couldn’t remain under Christen and Alex’s care if I wanted to be able to travel with the team this summer to Japan. They would have had to adopt me in order for that to work but I still wasn’t ready and they understood. We still text and call all the time of course and they come to visit me when they can. I still haven’t told them the true extent of how poorly I’m treated here but I decided that was for the best. 

It was warm out today and I had decided to ride my skateboard around town, my free time before I had to leave for the olympics was coming to an end so I had to take full advantage of it. We would be getting on a plane in a week and then hopefully we would return home with the gold and we could say that we pulled off the impossible: World Cup champions one year and olympic gold medalist the next. 

I reluctantly decide to head back to the group home after another hour and when I get there it’s no surprise that the house is full of potential adoptive parents and families. After politely introducing myself to a few of the people I make my way upstairs knowing no one would be interested in getting to know me. I check my phone and see I have a few texts and missed calls from Alex.

“Hey sweet girl, hope you’re having a good day. Chris and I Love and miss you.”

Read one text

I decided to call her as I had been missing their voices. She picked up on the third ring

“Hello?” Came her raspy voice through the phone.

“Hi Alex.”

“Well hello my sweet girl, how are we doing today?”

“I’m doing good, I miss you guys though.”

“I know but we’ll see you really soon.”

“Next week, do you think we’re ready?”

“As ready as we’ll ever be baby.”

“Am I ready?”

“Don’t second guess yourself, of course you are. You are going to do amazing I just know it.”

“Thank you for always believing in me.”

“Always have, always will. I love you kid.”

“I love you too.”

“I gotta go but we’ll see you soon okay?”

“See you soon. Tell Chris I said Hello and that I love her too.”

“I will, bye R.J.”

“Bye Alex.”

While I was talking to Alex I was completely unaware of Ms.Williams listening outside the door and when I hung up Ms. Williams stormed into my room, completely disregarding my “Knock first.” Sign, yanked my phone out of my hand and prevented me from taking it back,

“This is now mine, thank you.”

“What did I even do?!” 

“You were talking to that Alex Morgan girl.”

“Okay first of all she’s a grown ass woman and second, why is that such a problem?”

“Whenever you talk to her or that Christen girl they give you false hope.”

“What? Again, they’re grown women, not teenagers. What do you mean “false hope”? That doesn’t even make any sense.”

“I’m talking about the fact that you think you’re going to the Olympics.”

“I am going, I already made the roster.”

“If you think I’m going to let you leave the country while I’m still responsible for you, you’re sorely mistaken.”

“You can’t just not let me go! That’s not fair.”

“Life isn’t fair.”

“You can’t stop me from going, it’s my life.”

“While you live here I decide what you can and can’t do.”

“Well, then I just won’t live here then.”

“Pfft, where are you gonna go then?”

“Anywhere is better than here.”

“If you leave now you’re not allowed to come back.”

“I don’t care. Give me my phone.”

She threw my phone on the bed and left, leaving me to grab my duffle bag and get out of here. I packed only things I would need, grabbing my board I started to climb out the window, using the tree by my window I was able to get down safely and remain unseen by the families that were still in the house. I didn’t know where I was going to go and I realized this was probably a really dumb thing to do but I couldn���t give Karen the satisfaction of knowing I had backed out. 

I just started walking in a random direction and kept going until I couldn’t anymore. When I took in my surroundings I realized that I had already walked pretty far and that it was getting dark, if I wanted to find at least a semi-safe place to sleep I need to start looking. 

I was able to find a good enough bridge to sleep under for the night and settled there. Chris and Alex are so going to kill me.

The next week flew by, I was able to make the bridge a “home” of sorts and I was able to do some chores for the manager of the grocery store I walked to everyday and in exchange he paid me with food. This way I could save my money for Tokyo and for getting more clothes before I left. I knew that he had his suspicions about me being homeless but he never brought it up and by the time it was time for me to go to the airport we had become good friends and I even told him about the team and going to Tokyo. As for showering I was able to convince the owner of one of the gyms in town to let me take showers there without having a membership. I was just wrapping up my last day of chores when the manager of the store, Kevin came out of his office to see me off.

“Hey kid, you leavin’?”

“Yeah, I’ll miss you Kev.”

“I’ll miss you as well kid, good luck in Tokyo. Bring home the gold.”

“Yes sir. I’ll try to visit from time to time.”

“I’ll look forward to seeing you again.”

After we said our goodbyes I grabbed my stuff from the back and started to ride my skateboard to a department store where I could get a suitcase and some more clothes. Then I headed for the airport. It took forever and having to hold a suitcase made it pretty hard to stay balanced but I finally made it and after getting my luggage checked and going through security I just barely made it on time for my flight. I would be flying to Portland first and then from there we fly as a team to Japan. It would be a long couple of days and I’m sure I’m going to be exhausted by the end of all the flying but it’ll all be worth it once we get there.

When I arrived in Portland I was greeted by almost the whole team, a few people’s flights were still just landing or would be arriving shortly. The first people I saw were Chris and Alex, they ran to me and wrapped me up in their arms, smothering me with kisses. I hadn’t told them about anything that happened over the last week, they still thought I was at the group home. It got a little hard when they called me a couple times and there was a lot of commotion on the bridge but I just told them I was out riding around and that it was traffic in the street.

“Hey baby! We missed you so much.”

 Christen all but tackled me to the ground as Alex came around to hug me from behind. We landed on the floor and I found myself in a Chrislex sandwich. 

“I missed you guys too!” I gigged at their excitement

I made my rounds and was sure to say hi to everyone as they arrived and once everyone was together we were ready to head to our gate for our second flight. We had to wait around for an hour or so before we were able to board, I sat in between Al and Chris. Mal, Rose and Sam sat in front of us and Morgan, Kelley, and Emily behind us and Ali, Ash, Megan, Julie, Tobin, Crystal and Lindsey in the rows directly across. Everyone else filled the remaining rows. This 13 hour and 10 minute flight was going to be long and it would probably get really old fast but I knew my teammates would make it fun and entertaining for at least part of the time. 

14 and 1/2 hrs later…

We had finally landed in Tokyo and after almost 15 hours of traveling we got to the hotel and were able to go straight to our rooms. It didn’t surprise me that I had been placed in a room with Christen and Alex, after not seeing each other for a while I was glad to be with them. Everyone was exhausted, so much so that all anyone said to each other as we went to our rooms was “Night.” Or just a grumble as a way to say “See you in the morning.” 

I was allowed first dibs on a bed so I picked the one closest to the window. 

“Goodnight baby love, see you in the morning.” Christen said from her spot on their bed.

“Goodnight kiddo, sleep well.” Alex yawned

“Goodnight guys.”

They both fell asleep instantly and I was left to wonder how I was going to tell them about everything. I knew I had to tell them the truth soon, I just didn’t know how. On one hand I knew that they would be mad that I had taken off from the group home but I also knew they were going to be even more upset that I didn’t tell them. I knew that if I had they would have come to get me and then they could be arrested for kidnapping or something like that if Ms. Williams found out and decided to report me as missing just to spite me. And yes technically she could do that now and it would be 10x worse since I left the country but she’s not going to risk her reputation by doing that. At least I don’t think she would. 

I ran through what I was going to tell them in my head over a dozen times before I was finally able to go to sleep. I knew tomorrow was going to be tough but I just had to hope that I’d be ready to face the music. 

//

Hey guys, this isn't my best work and this is probably all over the place but I hope it was still good. Sorry for mistakes.

- N

Tag list: @slow-dance-in-the-dark​ @messyheath​ @yeetlysonnett​ @anniekin-98​ @kayleighromae​ @ihavebeenchangedforgoodmenzel​ @laikato​

[kerikaaria]

If I Never Met You: Chapter 26

(??? X Reader) Idol!AU, Manager!Reader

Genre: (PG13) Angst, hurt/comfort, and topped with some fluff

WC: 6.1k

Warnings: Detailed descriptions of a strong panic attack

Series Masterlist

Chapter 25 | Chapter 26 | Chapter 27

A/N - If you are having a difficult time, it can be really easy to want to deal with it on your own. But having a support system is so crucial in helping you feel better and getting through the toughest of times. Don't be afraid to reach out to someone if you need it!

Over the holiday season, Bang practically forced me to go home to see my family. It was nearing a year and a half since the last time I saw them and honestly, I was feeling homesick even if I never mentioned it to anyone. Bang PD told me I was not going to have any work to do starting from December 20th until just after the new year, so unless I wanted to sit at home bored I should take the time to see my family. He even handed me plane tickets he had already bought just to drive the point home.

There was basically no way I could say no at that point, so I did what he suggested and went home. Of course I was in contact with my family frequently since I had moved to South Korea and when I explained how busy my job was they understood why it was hard to get time to be able to go back to visit. But talking over the phone or texts was very different from getting to see them in person.

My family was thrilled to see me, and my sister was surprisingly talkative when she asked me a million questions about the boys and what it was like living and working in South Korea. And of course, I had just as many answers and stories to give her.

I got to see my best friend Ari while I was on vacation, and she was more than happy to hear about my new family. She never really listened to K-pop before but I tried my hardest to get her to become a fan of my boys. She wasn’t entirely convinced, but I knew I’d get her one day. I also tried contacting another friend of mine, Jordan. He had been one of my closest friends since we were five years old. But he didn’t respond to me at all, so I guessed he was busy and I could see him next time.

By the time the last few days of my vacation came around, I felt rather strange. I was happy to be home and it had made my homesickness feel better at first, but the longer I was home the more I realized I was feeling homesick again but for Korea and the boys instead. Probably because that’s where I had been for so long, and I spent almost literally every day with them so it was so weird to be away.

But of course our group chat was more active than ever while I was at home. I got messages every day from at least one or two of them about how much they missed me and about what they were up to. And they sent a lot of pictures. Particularly the ’95 line was sending me lots of candid and goofy pictures that they captured both of themselves and the rest of the members. They definitely kept a smile on my face, especially when the others would respond, complaining about the pictures they shared.

Soon enough, it was time for me to go back to my second home. I was still sad to leave my family again, but I was even more excited to get back to my boys and to being busy – which I had become way too accustomed to.

I arrived back in South Korea on January 2, and Sejin even had time to pick me up from the airport himself. We casually chatted about my vacation while he drove me back home and he walked me up to my apartment.

I opened the door to my home, expecting to just lay down and relax for a little while. But when I turned on the light, I was immediately met with seven boys and a whole feast laid out on my table.

“Welcome home!” they all said before taking turns hugging me and telling me how much they missed me.

I was happily surprised, but the significant jet lag didn’t let me show it and made me just look tired. “Hey guys,” I greeted with a tired smile. “This is a nice surprise.”

“We missed you!” Jungkook said, refusing to let me go after being the last one to give me a hug.

I chuckled and gave him a kiss on top of his head. “I missed you guys too. But I can’t believe you guys prepared this for me. It’s not like anything special happened, I was just visiting my family.”

“But you were gone for two whole weeks!” Tae pouted.

“I was starting to feel withdrawal,” Jin said. “I need my honey to be complete.” He blew me a kiss.

Jimin pretended to catch the kiss midair and throw it away.

“Yah!” Jin yelled as Jimin hurried next to me and gave me a peck on my cheek to tease Jin.

“I got to her first,” he sing-songed before running away and Jin started chasing after him.

Meanwhile, Jungkook was still clinging onto me as if I was his lifeline. I looked over to Sejin, silently asking for assistance. He just smiled and shrugged. “They missed you, what can I say?”

“Did I really miss this?” I questioned myself. “Maybe I should just go back home.”

“No!” Hobi yelled, coming behind me to hold me from behind while Jungkook tightened his grip from the front.

“It’s official,” I said. “I’m a prisoner.”

“Yeah, I warned you a year ago that you’re stuck with them whether you wanted to be or not,” Sejin oppa said, chuckling.

“Come on noona,” Joon said. “You know you love us.”

I hummed, pretending to think about it. “I don’t know, maybe you guys just brainwashed me into thinking I do.”

“I have done no brainwashing,” Yoongi said. “If you love us then you’re just crazy.”

“Well I mean, me being crazy is definitely accurate,” I said.

Even though I was tired from the jet lag, I couldn’t let the hard work they put in for this surprise go to waste so I humored them in eating and chatting for a little while. Until they couldn’t help but notice just how exhausted I was and they reluctantly left my apartment to let me get some rest.

As I saw them out of the house and they took turns saying goodbye, Jimin paused for a moment. “In all seriousness though,” he said, “we are super happy that you’re back. And not just that, but hyung is all healed now and is going to be able to do the showcases with us. I kind of felt like our family was a little broken last month without the two of you. But now everything’s back to normal.” He smiled sweetly.

“Aw, Chim,” I said, returning the smile. “It was never broken. But of course, I’m glad things are going back to normal too.” I gave him a strong hug before saying goodbye one more time and he left to join his brothers across the hallway.

There were just a couple of days after I returned before we would go back to Japan for the boys to have two showcases, one in Tokyo and the other in Osaka. The boys (including Yoongi) were practicing and preparing for those performances, while I went back to doing the usual routines at the company with Sejin to make sure that upcoming events were all in order and their comeback for next month was on track.

I easily became re-immersed into my work, but there was a thought that kept lingering in the back of my mind – one that had started before I even returned to Korea.

I was sitting in the dance studio, waiting for the boys to finish their practice for the day so we could all walk home together. Having watched the same routine over several times and being a little tired, my mind started drifting on its own. That tiny inkling of a thought that was hiding in the back of my mind started surfacing more and more the longer I sat there.

I looked again at the message on my phone. “Hey! Long time no talk! I am in town so I wanted to know if you were able to hang out so we can catch up. I miss you!” It was the one I sent to Jordan and hadn’t received a reply on. I knew he was difficult to get ahold of, his family had even told me that they have a hard time reaching him most of the time. But it still bothered me that I received absolutely no reply.

“Noona?” Hobi startled me out of my thoughts when he waved his hand in front of my face. “Everything alright in there?”

“Oh, yeah. Everything’s fine,” I responded. “Sorry, I was just thinking.”

“Jordan?” I jumped when I heard Joonie’s voice literally right next to my ear. “Is that a friend from home?”

“Yeah, he is,” I said simply, turning my phone in my hands a couple of times before locking it.

“You’ve never mentioned him I don’t think,” Jin said. “Are you guys close?”

“I’ve mentioned him, just not by name,” I said. “He’s the one who I’ve known since I was five.”

“Ooohhh, that friend!” Hobi said. “You’re always smiling when you talk about him. Did you get to meet up with him?”

I looked down at the black screen of my phone and shook my head. “No, he never responded to me when I texted him.”

“Maybe you should call him, see if you can catch up?” Yoongi suggested. “You look like you miss him.”

“I do,” I admitted easily. “I feel like it’s been ages since we’ve talked but he is easily one of my closest friends.”

“Why don’t you call him now?” Tae said. “It’s a reasonable time there, isn’t it? And it’d be nice for us to talk to him a bit if you guys are really that close.”

I thought about it for a minute before deciding it may be a good idea. “Yeah, maybe I should. He does prefer phone calls over text messages anyway so that might help.”

Everyone seemed to agree they’d hang out to say hi and gathered around me while I hovered my finger over the call button on my phone. “Alright, I’ll introduce you guys before you start talking okay? And please only talk one at a time.” I gave them each a jokingly serious look before and got nods of agreement in return. I finally pressed the green circle and waited for him to answer, placing the phone on speaker. It seemed like it was about to go to voicemail, but he answered at the last minute.

“Hello?” I heard Jordan’s voice for the first time in what felt like forever through the phone.

“Hey, Jordan!” I said, excited to talk to him. “How are you?”

He was silent for a moment. “I’m sorry, but who is this?”

I pinched my eyebrows together in confusion, feeling uneasy. I knew for a fact that I messaged everyone my new number when I had gotten a new phone. “This is (Y/n).”

“Oh!” he said. “Sorry, I didn’t recognize your number. How are you?”

“I’m doing well,” I replied. “I thought I let you know I changed my number. Well, I messaged you last week asking if you wanted to hang out but you didn’t respond.”

“Yeah sorry,” he said. “I didn’t reply since I didn’t recognize the number.”

“Ah, okay. I guess that makes sense.” I noticed that Namjoon was quietly telling the others what we were saying so they weren’t lost. “Well I just figured I’d see if you were able to chat so we could catch up. A lot has happened since the last time we talked.”

“Yeah, that’d be nice,” Jordan said, but he sounded distracted. I was about to reply, but before I could he continued. “But I’m actually kind of busy right now. Can I call you later?”

My heart sank. I’d heard that before. Many, many times before. “O-okay, yeah sure,” I replied. “Talk to you later then.”

“Mmkay. Bye!” Jordan said before hanging up.

“Bye…” I murmured even though the call was done.

A number of memories started zipping by through my mind, slowly connecting dots together. Something I felt like I had known all along, but had refused to believe up until this point. He wasn’t going to call me back. He was never going to call me back. There was no more denying it. I vaguely registered the boys trying to get my attention, but I was too lost in my thoughts to reply.

I suddenly stood up, grabbing my bag and coat before walking out of the room and not saying a single word. I knew what was about to happen and I wasn’t about to let it happen in front of the members of BTS. Not in front of my friends. I didn’t want them to see this side of me.

All the regular staff were gone for the day since it was getting late, so I freely jogged down the halls, letting my feet guide me to wherever they may. My heartbeat was speeding up and breathing becoming ragged, more from the speed of my mind rather than that of my body. I ended up in one front of one of the vocal lesson rooms and deciding that should be a safe enough place to wait out my attack, I entered and leaned against the wall next to the door without turning on the lights.

Now feeling as secure as I could from the possibility of being found, I let my emotions overwhelm me. Tears started streaming down my cheeks as choked sobs escaped my throat. Jordan wasn’t going to call me back. How stupid could I have possibly been? How many years had it been since he’d been playing my emotions like a fiddle?

At least five years, that was for sure. That was my first memory of this pattern developing. My 16th birthday party, when he promised he’d be there but hours passed and he wasn’t answering any of my calls. I gave him the benefit of the doubt and thought something came up, he was just busy and forgot to tell me. That is, until one of my friends called him from her phone and he didn’t realize she was at my house for the party so he answered. As soon as she asked him why he wasn’t there, he quickly hung up and didn’t answer any more calls after that.

I cried my eyes out that night. My best friend, the person who I trusted more than anyone else. Who had been by my side since we were five years old, and went through  years of school with while we were considered weird and didn’t fit in at all. We were there for each other and didn’t care what other people thought because we were happy being as good of friends as we were and even finding a few other friends along the way who were just as odd. That same friend had purposely ignored me on my birthday.

It wasn’t until two weeks later that I called him again, and he actually picked up. He profusely apologized and came up with some kind of explanation as to why he couldn’t make it. I asked him why he wouldn’t tell me that straight up instead of making me feel terrible that he was ignoring me on a day that was important to me. But he just apologized over and over, promising he wouldn’t do it again and he’d remember to keep in touch with me.

I was too naïve, too hopeful and clinging onto my friendship with him to see that for what it really was: excuses. Just excuses.

My face had to have been a mess by now, completely tear-streaked and all shades of blotchy reds from how much I was already crying. My thoughts were still racing as I recalled various events and empty promises from the years identical to the one I just experienced. I was hyperventilating, and started hitting the back of my head against the wall behind me as if that would rid my mind of all the thoughts swirling around.

When that didn’t work, I gripped onto my hair, pulling tightly. I couldn’t believe I was so blind all this time. I wanted to believe so badly that someone I knew and trusted for that long couldn’t lie to me like that, that I left myself completely oblivious to what was really going on. What was wrong with me? How could I have been so dumb?

But more importantly, what was it that I did to make him do this to me?

Suddenly, the door to the room swung open. It happened too quickly for my overwhelmed mind to comprehend what was going on, much less react before someone’s hands were on top of mine, trying to loosen them from my hair. I knew someone was right in front of me and witnessing my breakdown; the part of my mind that was still logical knew it and wanted me to stop. But my emotions were running the show right now and they weren’t going to listen – they were going to keep going in the spiraling direction they were already headed.

“Oh my gosh, noona!” they said. “What’s wrong?” I recognized it as Hobi’s voice. Our hope, our sunshine. He was seeing me a mess. He surely wouldn’t want anything to do with me after seeing me in this state. “Please, talk to me noona.”

I curled up even further into a ball, hiding my face behind my knees and keeping my hands tightly gripped onto my hair despite Hobi’s best attempts to remove them. I was unable to help myself from continuing to sob, finding it even harder to breathe than before in this new position.

“Guys! She’s in the vocal lesson area!” Hoseok yelled. “Please come here, quick!” he turned his attention to me, starting to make shushing sounds. “It’s okay, noona.” His voice was suddenly quiet and calming, but wasn’t doing much to aid in my racing mind. Although he did finally loosen my hands from their vice grip in my hair. “Noona, it’s alright. We’re here for you. Just please, talk to me.” He was stroking my hair in what I recognized was an attempt to soothe me. But again, I was still too far gone for it to help right now.

I shook my head, face still hidden. “No,” I said. “N-no. no,” I stuttered through hiccupped breaths. “He… He’s n-not… He’s a-a li-liar.” My mind was stuck in English mode so I don’t know if Hobi understood what I said. I started rocking back and forth, beginning to have difficulty maintaining control over my own muscles.

Hoseok continued trying to console me by shushing and stroking my hair, at a loss for what else he could possibly do. I heard others enter the room, pausing when they saw the state I was in.

“What’s wrong?” Jimin’s normally calmingly melodic voice sounded far away, as if I was inside of a fishbowl.

“I don’t know,” Hoseok said. “I found her like this and she won’t talk to me.”

“I think she’s having a panic attack,” a deeper, somewhat raspy voice said, but I could barely hear it.

I thought there were others and that they talked a little bit more but their voices were being drowned out by my mind. More memories, more thoughts. I felt like I wasn’t myself, and I knew I needed to calm down and come back down to earth. But that part of my mind was locked behind metal bars and my emotions were in control now. How could I have been so dumb? I knew what was going on but I refused to see it. It was my fault, I had to have done something for him to do this to me.

My fault. Something was wrong with me. Everyone left me. It had to be me. What was it? Why couldn’t people stay? Why did they always leave? Why, why?

I felt out of control of my own body as I lifted my head and started hitting it against the wall in synchronization with repeating the word “why” through my mind over and over. At least until something held onto my head to stop it from moving.

I was aware of everything I was doing. I knew it was silly and I needed to stop. But I couldn’t, I didn’t feel in control. I started mumbling those same short sentences that had been running through my mind, still being hindered through the hiccupped breaths from hyperventilating. By this point I was feeling dizzy from the lack of sufficient oxygen making it through to my lungs.

One of the hands holding my head still moved to rest on the back of it, gently stroking my hair. Someone else was running their thumbs over my cheeks to wipe away the tear stains. Another hand gently ran up and down the calf of my leg in a calming motion. The combined efforts of these actions started bringing the voices around me back into focus as I slowly opened my eyes.

“Noona,” Jimin’s sweet voice broke through first. I looked at him. “There you are. Hey, it’s okay.” He repeated the last sentence a few times. I realized he was the one caressing my leg.

I heard Jungkook’s calming voice singing a soft song somewhere close by.

“Noona, are you coming back to us?” Hoseok’s voice a little to my left spoke up and I looked his way. He was the one wiping my tears. It took me some effort, but I found the control to shakily nod my head to respond to him.

“You have to breathe, okay?” Jimin said.

“Let’s count in sets of four, noona,” Yoongi’s voice came from my right. “You’ll breathe in, hold your breath, and then breathe out for four counts each. And we’ll keep doing that. You think you can do that?”

I closed my eyes and nodded once more. Yoongi started counting and I did my best to follow the counts, although it was challenging with the short, uncontrolled breaths I had been taking for who knows how long by now. But each time the cycle restarted, it got a little bit better. I was able to focus my mind on the song Jungkook was singing, which kept my thoughts at bay as Yoongi helped my breathing come back to normal.

By the time my breath returned to normal, I felt in control of myself again.

“Welcome back,” Hoseok said with a soft smile as he removed his hands from my cheeks.

I started crying again, hiding my face in my hands.

“Noona,” Hoseok gently called me as he came closer to wrap his arms around me. “Hey, shh it’s okay. It’s okay.”

“Oh my gosh.” I could barely even recognize my own voice. It was so weak from all the crying and hyperventilating. “I can’t believe you guys saw me like that. I didn’t want you to ever see me like that.”

“It’s alright,” Jimin said as Yoongi ran his hand along my back to continue trying to comfort me. “We don’t mind. We just want you to be okay.”

“Noona, has this happened to you before?” Yoongi tentatively asked.

I slowly nodded. “You guys think I’m crazy, don’t you?”

“No, of course not!” Hobi assured me. “Why would we ever think that?”

“Because I literally just acted crazy,” I said, lifting my head to look at Hoseok. “I wasn’t in control of myself. My emotions went absolutely haywire and I had no power over my own actions. How does that not make me look crazy?”

I heard sniffling coming from somewhere nearby.

“You’re not crazy, noona,” I heard Joon’s voice but when I looked for him I couldn’t see him.

“The others are standing outside,” Jimin told me when he noticed me looking. “We couldn’t all fit in here.”

“Just because you had a panic attack, that doesn’t make you crazy,” Yoongi said.

“Do you think you can stand up?” Hobi asked, holding my hands with his own.

I responded by slowly raising myself off the floor, bracing my hands on the wall behind me to help. I was a little wobbly on my feet at first, but could still support myself after a moment.

Hoseok kept hold of one of my hands as I turned to walk out the door, and the first person I saw was Jin. He was holding a wet towel in his hands and used it to gently wipe my face. The water was cool and refreshing, helping my swollen eyes and hot cheeks to feel a little better, and I was sure it helped me look at least a tiny bit less of a mess than I was. He gave me a soft smile after he was done.

“Thank you, Jin,” I said. I looked next to him and saw the other three members, realizing where I heard the sniffling coming from. Tae and Kookie’s eyes were red and somewhat swollen. I gently let go of Hobi’s hand to walk over to them and wrap them both in a hug, and they quickly embraced me back, holding onto me tightly. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t want to worry you guys. I’m so sorry, please don’t cry.”

“Don’t apologize, noona,” Tae said. “I should apologize. I was the one who told you to call him. It’s my fault.”

I let go of them to grab his face and make him look me in the eyes. “None of that. It’s not your fault. None of us knew what was going to happen. And my fragile mental state is not your responsibility.”

I heard one of the boys make a disapproving whine at my statement, unhappy with how I described myself.

“Let’s get back to the dance studio so we have room to sit and talk, yeah?” Namjoon suggested.

I nodded in agreement, and Jimin was quick to come to my side and entwine his fingers with mine. We walked back in silence and Jimin gently guided me to sit on the couch once we were back in the room, sitting next to me. Hobi took the seat on my other side while the others sat around the floor in front of me.

“Do you want talk about it?” Joonie asked, placing a hand on my knee.

I exhaled a long breath, gathering myself. “I will. I’m sorry, guys. I know that must have been so out of the blue for you and I didn’t mean to scare you. I ran off because I felt the attack coming and didn’t want you guys to see it. I had hoped you wouldn’t have looked for me there.”

“Don’t apologize,” Yoongi was quick to say. “You don’t need to apologize for feeling your emotions. Sometimes they can get the best of you, but that’s okay. It’s not embarrassing. And it’s better to have someone there to help you through it than to go through it alone.”

“I’m glad we did find you,” Hobi said. “Who knows how long you would have been there like that if we didn’t.”

I nodded. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“What was it that plagued that beautiful head of yours, (Y/n)?” Jin asked.

“I know Namjoon was telling you guys what Jordan and I were saying so I’m sure I don’t need to explain that,” I started. They nodded in confirmation. “Well, it definitely may seem like that was nothing to trigger me. But when he said, ‘I’m busy. I’ll call you later,’ it was as if I had an epiphany. I realized that I had heard that from him countless times. So many times that he gave me promises of keeping in touch, of calling me or texting me later. Always to end up being empty. He never kept those promises.”

Jimin started running his fingers through my hair, and I rested my head on his shoulder. I continued, “The first time I noticed something being off was at my 16th birthday party, about five years ago. He was supposed to come but didn’t show and ignored my calls. I talked to him two weeks later and he had this excuse that I just accepted because he was my best friend and I wanted to believe him. But really, he had no reason to ignore me and if he really did have a reason to not show he should have told me from the start.”

I wouldn’t stop fidgeting my hands, so Hobi took one in his and rubbed comforting circles on it with his thumb. “After that, I started getting more and more empty promises. I think I knew for a while, but I didn’t want to admit it to myself. But when he told me that this time… I just couldn’t deny it anymore. That I realized every time I got in contact with him, or we managed to meet each other it was by pure coincidence, and it was always me reaching out. Today, he answered my call because he didn’t know it was me. And that wouldn’t be the first time something like that happened.”

I closed my eyes, trying to keep myself from crying again. “Over and over and over again, he apologized for not being the one to reach out or not keeping in touch. And he’d promise to change that. But he never did, not even once. For five years. Five. Years. He didn’t have the guts to just tell me that…” I couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. Saying this out loud, admitting it outside of my thoughts made it too real. “That he just doesn’t care about me or want to be my friend anymore. Is it really that hard to not string someone along, to not lie to them and keep giving them hope that everything’s still okay?”

Hoseok wrapped his arms around me as I leaned further into Jimin’s shoulder, getting his shirt wet with my tears. “How could he just decide it was okay to do that to me? I trusted him and believed in him. He was there for me when no one else was for such a long time. When no one else wanted to be my friend, when I was oblivious to the other kids making fun of us, he was always there. And I was stupid enough to believe he always would be. But that’s the thing – the only thing that’s a definite when it comes to me is that my friends will always leave me.”

“Don’t say that,” Tae said. “Even if that may have happened up until now, you can’t say that’s what will always happen. Because no matter what, we’re not going anywhere, noona.”

I really wanted to argue that there’s no way he could know that, but I didn’t have the energy to debate on that right now.

“What was going through your mind when you were having your attack?” Yoongi asked. “Other than having that realization about him, I mean.”

I bit my lip, not wanting to voice it out loud. The state of my mind definitely amplified them but that didn’t mean that they weren’t things that I didn’t think of more often than I cared to admit. I was hoping we could move onto something else, but my silence spoke volumes. Yoongi seemed too familiar with what I was going through, he must have known that the destructive mannerisms had to come from destructive thoughts as well.

Jimin pulled away a little so he could make me look him in the eye. “Noona, please. We know there are things you may want to keep to yourself, but we really want to make sure you’re okay. Please tell us.”

I sighed, knowing I wasn’t getting out of this. And I wasn’t in a state to come up with a quick lie. “At the worst part,” I started, “the part when I was hitting my head against the wall.” I saw the others cringe or make sounds of displeasure at me recounting that. “I was thinking how it’s my fault. That there has to be something wrong with me that makes people always leave. Because I’m the common denominator, I have to be at fault. And I was asking myself why, what it is that causes it and why I’m like this.”

“Oh, noona,” I heard Jungkook say in a very sad tone.

“How often do you think those things?” Yoongi asked.

“Is this a counseling session or something?” I responded.

“Basically, yeah,” he said without missing a beat. “Please, answer my question.” His sentences may have been short and to the point, but they were full of care.

“I don’t know how often but,” I paused while thinking of how to phrase it, “I wouldn’t call it uncommon.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you, (Y/n),” Jin said. “We told you this before. Those people just don’t know how wonderful you are. But we know, and we aren’t planning on giving you up for anything.”

“You say that now,” I mumbled under my breath in English.

“I heard that,” Joonie responded. The others looked at him curiously. “Basically, she implied that we think that way now but it doesn’t mean it’ll stay that way.”

“We won’t leave you, noona,” Tae said, almost sounding desperate. “We would never want to.”

“It took Jordan eleven years to start to get sick of me,” I replied. “Others only took a few months, some a year or two. But he took eleven years.” I could see on their faces that they knew what I was implying. That even if we were good friends for a very long time, it still didn’t mean it was permanent.

“You are right about one thing,” Hobi said, gently turning my head towards him. “You can’t predict the future. None of us have any idea where we’re going to be in five, ten, or fifty years in the future. But there is something we do know. That right now, you are one of our closest friends. And we all love you and don’t know what we’d do without you. We know that we want you in our lives, and we don’t see that changing any time soon. Just as you don’t know if later down the line we may drift apart, you also can’t say that we won’t be just as close in fifty years as we are now. I don’t know about you, but I’m willing to bet on the latter.” He touched his forehead to mine as he finished his speech.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, closing my eyes. “I really do love you guys. It just scares me. I’ve never talked much about it with you all because I thought I had it under control, but I have battled anxiety for quite a few years now. I thought it was more or less gone but I’ve been fighting the negative thoughts again lately. I’m doing what I can to keep them under control but that’s sometimes easier said than done.”

“You should be open about it with us,” Jin said. “If you tell us something is bothering you then we can help.”

“I’ll try to be,” I said.

“Noona,” Taehyung maneuvered his way through his hyungs to sit right in front of me. “We love you. And we’re here for you. You’re always here for us, so let us be there for you. Hmm?”

I gave him a soft smile. “Okay, Taetae. I love you guys too.”

He extended himself toward me to include himself in the already tangled embraces of myself, Jimin, and Hobi. And the rest of the boys took that as their cue to pile in for a big, chaotic group hug that ended with us all laughing because of how awkward of a fit it was.

“Oh!” Jungkook exclaimed as we all righted ourselves again. “Can we have a sleepover again? It was so much fun last time.”

“I live right across the hall from you guys, it is literally unnecessary,” I said.

“We don’t care,” Joonie said, grabbing my things. “I vote yes for the sleepover.”

And soon enough the rest of the boys were all voicing their agreements to the notion as well.

My anxiety really might get the best of me sometimes, but one thing was for sure. Where I was right here, right now, surrounded by these people – this was a place I could be happy. And I planned on cherishing it for as long as I possibly could.

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[serendipityjxmn]

I Hate You, Park Jimin!

Chapter 9

Words Count: 5.7k

TW: Very slight smut

Link to Chapter 8

Link to Chapter 10

Summer holidays had officially started for me and it’s been a week since I’ve seen Jimin as well as that... ‘incident’. He had been very busy ever since after the fundraising event. I found myself constantly glancing at my phone for a single text or call from him. Maybe he disappeared because he decided it was not ‘it’ with you, a voice in my mind said. I shook my head, trying to dismiss the thought.

I tried to bring my focus back onto my work. I was in a bookshop, doing my second part-time job. I decided to take on two jobs this summer because I knew that I have nothing else to do because I’m such an antisocial.

Shit. I cursed as the books I held in my hand were supposed to be on the top shelves but I was too short to reach it yet I was lazy to hunt for a chair. I resulted into tiptoeing but my hand still couldn’t reach it.

Suddenly someone hovered over me and his hand easily placed the books on the shelf. I could smell his cologne and it was familiar. I turned around and saw Jeon Jungkook, his face half covered in a face mask. He was wearing a large black hoodie and a black baggy pants with brown Timberland shoes.

“Hey.” He said as he pulled down his mask.

“Hello Jeon Jungkook.” I said as I bent down to take out more books from the box. “What are you doing here?”

“I was just passing by...” he took the books from me and started filling up the top shelf.

“Hmmm.”

“You’re doing two part time jobs?”

I shrugged. “Yeah- well I don’t have a life.”

“Hey, no worries. I totally get it. We’re no different.”

I smiled at him.

“When are you off for lunch?”

I glanced at my watch. “How about.. now?”

He grinned. “Awesome.”

There were two guys on a table opposite ours when we entered the restaurant. One of them looked up as Jungkook and I took a seat at the table.

I looked up but regretted immediately as the guy across winked at me. Unknowingly I made a disgusted face.

“Is he bothering you?”

What? I looked at Jungkook. Then I looked at the guy again. This time he was making a kissy face. That was disgusting. How dare he! What if Jungkook was my boyfriend? He’s lucky that he wasn’t though. I quickly turned my gaze back at Jungkook and nodded slowly.

Jungkook suddenly moved his seat slightly to he left without turning his back. What is he doing?

“Is he still in your sight?”

Now I understood his intention. He was trying to block the guy from making eye contact with me. I smiled at him, feeling touched. “Just a little bit more to the left,” I said as I smiled fondly at him.

He moved and I nodded, signalling that the guy was now completely out of my sight.

“Good. You can now eat comfortably.” He smiled at me.

“Thanks.”

“Its nothing. I just personally don’t like guys doing disgusting acts like that. It may look small but it makes women uncomfortable and that shouldn’t happen.”

I melted. He was such a gentleman. I liked the fact that he did not engage with the stranger because frankly the guy would stop if he had given a death glare. Jungkook doesn’t do violence. I gleefully ate my food at the thought. Unlike someone... the guy might lose his two teeth by now. I shuddered remembering the fundraising event.

Jungkook came and visited me at the bookstore almost every single day after that, mainly about an hour before lunch. As a result, we had lunch together almost everyday. We grew much closer as I practically see him 24/7 since we also had most of the shifts at the cafe together too. Ah Young came by too sometimes. She matched well with Jungkook too so I was happy about that.

I put on my favourite pyjama dress and sat cross legged at the edge of my bed. I glanced at my phone. Empty. Just how busy is he..? A small part of my heart sank a little as it may occur to me that he might not want to see me anymore. Not even as a study partner.

Was it because we had some intimate moment and he decided that I was not it? The thought depressed me so I shook my head, trying to dismiss it. I reached for the hairdryer on my bed table and proceeded to dry my hair. My hair was long, stopping just after my mid-back. I fondled at the thought of dying my hair a different color just to add some.. ‘spice’ in my life. Yes, Kim Hana’s life is that boring. Hmm.. let’s decide on that later.

My phone chirped. My heart raced a little in anticipation. It lit up but the name that came up wasn’t the name that I wanted. It was Jungkook.

Jungkook: Still up?

Hana: Dead asleep.

Jungkook: Oh, so I guess you’re the astral projection of Hana then. Hey there! Nice to meet you!

I chuckled.

Hana: Did you seriously just made a reference of Doctor Strange?

Jungkook: Knew you’re the one ;)

I rolled my eyes.

Hana: Go to sleep Jeon Jungkook.

Jungkook: I can’t :(

Hana: Reason?

Jungkook: Can’t stop thinking about you.

I rolled my eyes again. Jungkook had always been flirty but I knew more that he was just joking. I don’t think I’ve ever had that spark with him. Unlike with that someone.. wow. Again, Kim Hana, stop it.

Hana: I’m going to sleep. Goodnight!

I locked my phone and laid myself on the bed. My phone buzzed.

Jungkook: Goodnight Hana. Dream of me ;)

I rolled my eyes again for the third time. I didn’t reply. I closed my eyes and soon drifted to sleep.

JIMIN’S POV

I groaned as I slumped myself on top of my bed. Today had been another long day. I was dragged around the whole day by my father, attending meetings here and there and having lunch and dinner with clients. My jaw hurts from all the fake smile I had to put up as dad introduced me to every single person known ever.

I had been going to the office every day since summer started due to dad’s orders. He wanted me to have a look at the office and grasp the idea of handling business. He also wanted me to be introduced to most of the key people so that it’d be easier for him to hand down the business to me. This had always been my path. I knew it since I was little which was also the reason why I had to study business managament.

Problem is the ‘so called internship’ - although it was barely an internship as I didn’t get ordered around to do errands because everybody knew I was the CEO’s son. I wish it was kept private though. The amount of people kissing my ass made me shudder - anyway, it took my time away from Hana. I didn’t get a chance to see her at all after the fundraising event.

I reached for my cellphone from my pocket. I sat up immediately and pressed Hana’s numbers. I glanced at the clock telling me it was almost midnight. Shit- what if she’s already asleep? Too late though, she answered after a few ring.

“Hello?” Her voice a bit raspy. Shit- did I wake her up?

“Were you asleep?”

She grunted. Fuck- now I felt guilty. Even more guilty when I found her voice sounded sexy and alluring. “What do you want~” she asked in a voice so soft, I had to curse seeing how much it made my heart skip.

I cleared my throat. “Aren’t we going to study?”

She groaned. She didn’t answer immediately and by the sound of it, I imagined she was trying to sit up. Her voice sounded clearer now. “You said with your own mouth, if I remember correctly - who the fuck studies during summer holidays?” She quoted me. I pictured her glaring at me. I chuckled.

“I get it. But you do study, right?”

“Of course I do.” She replied, sounding almost affronted.

“Then there should be no problem of me joining you right?”

She went silent for a few moments before answering. “Okay but-“

“I’ll pick you up at 12 tomorrow.” I said and hung up before she could say anything. I smiled in triumph.

HANA’S POV

I sat myself on the floor, trying to calm myself down. I woke up extremely early today just because 1) I could barely sleep due to nervousness which I had no idea where it came from 2) Due to Jimin saying he’d pick me up which means that he’s taking me somewhere but I had no idea where and it’s making me anxious. Plus, I have been wrecking my brain trying to decide on my outfit. I have absolutely no idea where he’s taking me!

He’s probably just gonna take you to a library for a study session, a voice popped in my mind. I pouted at the thought.

Ah- screw it. Since it’s summer, anything would be acceptable I guess. So I decided to put a blue-white striped shirt paired with black skirt. Next, I hunted for my black sling bag. I was curling my hair at the end to give it a wavy look when the door bell rang. I jumped and almost burned myself with the hair straighteners.

With one last look in the mirror, I dashed to open the front door. There stood Park Jimin, looking godly as ever, wearing a casual striped blue shirt that almost looked similar to mine with khaki cargo short pants. His height towered me while his right arm propped against the door frame.

“Hi.” He said.

I blushed. Hana! Get your senses together! “Hello.” I replied in a small voice, looking down.

“You’re ready?”

I nodded. I locked my apartment and we both made our way to the elevators. While we were waiting, a group of girls joined to queue with us. I glanced at them and they were oggling Jimin off! I felt a pang of jealousy. I glared at them.

Jimin seemed oblivious to their whisperings, as always. The elevator arrived and the doors opened. Suddenly, I felt his firm hand placed at the small of my back, pushing me forward into the elevator. I gulped at the sensation of his small touch.

The girls’ expression fell a little as they saw his hand on my back. I expected him to drop his hand during the elevator ride but he didn’t. I tried hard not to fan my ego. The elevator came to a stop after a few seconds and we exited the room. He led me to his car, his sleek black Audi R8.

“Have you eaten?” He asked as soon as we both settled in.

I shook my head. He didn’t say anything in reply and just sped off.

I don’t have much experience of being Jimin’s passenger in his car but I really liked riding with him. I love that I get to stare at his handsome features in silence. He was very focused on driving.

My eyes fell on his lips. I unknowingly gulp as I long for its taste against mine again. I had missed his touch a lot. Ever since the ‘intimate incident’, I found myself thinking about him so often. Worse of all, I was craving for his touch again. I wondered what had kept him busy these few weeks.

“I’m sorry I had been busy.” He said abruptly without looking at me, as if he had been hearing my thoughts.

I didn’t know what to answer so I just remained silent.

“I was..” he trailed off.

I waited.

“My father wanted me to come to the office. Looking around.. getting to know the business.. and all.” He sighed.

Ahh.. I nodded. I guess that’s what had been keeping him busy. He was working at his father’s company. Must be so nice to have an internship set without having to graduate first, a promising job, a future. I, on the other hand had no idea what’s to come for me.

“What are you thinking?” He asked.

I looked up and he was staring straight at me. We were stopping at a traffic light.

“N-nothing.” I looked down.

“That’s too bad. I was hoping that you were thinking of me.” He said so casually but I almost choke at his words. My eyes went round as I looked at him. He was smirking. Jerk, I thought.

We soon arrived at a restaurant. I didn’t catch the name of it because Jimin led me quckly inside. We walked past several tables because the restaurant was full. Still, we managed to grab an empty table. The waitress came and handed us the menus.

My jaw practically dropped because I literally had no idea what I’m looking at. Traditional Italian Cuisine... Italian? He brought me to an Italian restaurant? I drew a breath. That’s it. I gave up. I put down the menu.

He looked up. “You have your choices already?”

“I’m not hungry.”

He gave me the are-you-kidding look. Then he proceeded to smoothly place an order for the both of us. I had no idea half of the names of the menu.

“Anyway,” he started, fingers tapping on the table. “Since you owe me.. the study session. I figured that it’s only fair that you let me decide what I want to do with that session.”

I frowned. “It doesn’t work that way.”

“Now it does.” He smiled a gritted smile at me.

I narrowed my eyes at him but figured that there was no use to argue with him.

“So what have you been doing during summer?”

I shrugged. “Part time jobs.”

“And?”

“What? That’s it. I took two so I was busy day and night.”

He frowned. “You’re still working with that guy?”

I rolled my eyes. “That guy has a name. And his name’s Jeon Jungkook.”

“Whatever.”

“You have a beef or something with him?” I frowned. He almost sounded as if he’s.. jealous. “He’s a great friend.”

“He may not be as nice as he appears to be.” He said.

I wanted to reply back but the waitress came and served our meal. I had no idea what the meals are but they smelled nice.

“Eat.” He said and started with his food.

“Bossy.” I glared at him. “And you’re just being judgemental.”

“If the turns out to be a jerk, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He said nonchalantly.

What is wrong with him seriously? It was almost as if he knew something. “Well you’re a bad boy and here I am, having lunch with you as if this is the most normal thing ever.”

He stopped eating mid-way. “So you also think of me as a bad guy?” He scoffed. “Just like everyone else.”

I froze. I felt my heart fell at his words. Was it possible that Park Jimin was conscious about what people think of him? I never took him as one that does. He seemed to not give a fuck about what anyone thinks of him.

“I’m-“ I lost words.

“Nevermind. Just continue eating.” He said and we just ate in silence after that.

I felt guilty. I was restless trying to figure out how to make up to him. Truthfully, sometimes Jimin can be a bit overbearing. He could be very playful, flirty, intimidating, yet sensitive at the same time. A simple conversation with him can turn sideways at any second. I don’t know if I can keep up.

“I don’t give a crap about what anyone else says about me. But I thought-“ he scoffed, as if the idea he had somewhat seemed laughable now.

“Jimin.” I called as I put down my cutleries. I’ve had enough. “Jimin look at me.” I paused as I waited for his eyes to meet mine. “I’m not afraid of you.”

He held my gaze steady. His lips curled slightly. “Nice knowing that.”

“I mean- I used to be. But after we spent some time together, I think you’re just- as normal as every other guy. Someone I can punch, smack or annoy the hell out of.”

His face finally broke into a smile. God- finally! I patted myself at the shoulder mentally. “I’d like to taste how strong your punch is.”

“Uh... you might regret saying that.” I raised a brow at him, as if challenging him.

“We’ll see.”

God his smile was addictive.

JIMIN’S POV

Once we were done eating, I took Hana somewhere else. It wasn’t that far because the drive was kind of short. She gasped when we were nearing the place.

“No!” She glanced at me as I reversed the car into a parking lot.

“What?” I said, already going out of the car.

Hana was beside me within seconds. Her face practically lit up at the sight in front of her. It looked so fucking adorable I almost wanted to lean in and plant a kiss on her lips.

“I’m-“ she started but appeared to be lost in words. “I can’t believe you’re taking me to an amusement park!” Suddenly, she jumped towards me and threw hands around me. I think my lungs just stopped working. I stilled but I knew my heartbeat was racing far too rapidly. She realized my stiffness so she quickly backed away.

“Sorry.” She muttered, feeling embarrassed of herself.

“That excited, huh?” I raised my brow at her.

“I am- yes! Oh my god let’s go!” She screamed and was so quick to make her way to the entrance.

There were a LOT of people since it was summer. The queue line was far too long. So I left Hana’s side and approached one of the staff behind the counter, whispered a few things and handed something under the table. This act is not to be encouraged, ladies and gentlemen. We were granted immediate entrance after that.

Hana gave me a judging look and I bet my ass that she was going to lecture me about it but for some reason decided not to. Probably because she was too excited to care.

She stared at the surrounding in awe. She then looked down on the map that was given to every visitor at the entrance. Her brow creased and I knew she was ranting, trying hard to decide on where to go but I couldn’t focus on her words.

It was as if everything was muted around us. My gaze only fixated towards her. I had never known it before but Kim Hana was really attractive. I mean, yes she’s pretty and I know most of the guys at college would agree too because she actually has a number of admirers but she was too busy to care about them.

Her dark brown hair was long, wavy at the end. Her skin was fair and she’s a good head shorter than me. Her eyes were light brown, almost hazel in the sunlight. Her eyes that seemed cold as ice sometimes, but can be twice as sweet around the people she’s comfortable with. Her nose is sharp and her lips.. her pink lips.. the one I’m dying to taste again.

I momentarily wondered what her ideal type was. Slowly, I raised my phone and switched to camera. I sneakily took a candid shot of her while she was still immersed in the map.

“What do you think?” She asked.

“H- huh? What?”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “Screw it! Let’s just go!” She screamed then she took my hands and gripped my wrist as she dragged me towards the rollercoaster.

“I’m so excited!” She made tiny little jumps that made her look so adorable. She’s like a little baby. Unknowingly, my lips curled into a smile. I made a good choice of bringing her here.

And so for the next hour she dragged me here and there riding all sorts of things. I learnt that she was scared of heights but at the same time these rides thrilled her. I just shook my head at her.

“Do you want ice cream?” I asked as we passed by an ice cream stall.

Her eyes widened in excitement. “Really? Yes please!”

“What do you want?”

“I’ll have mint chocolate.” She grinned at me.

I scrunched my nose. “Who on earth likes mint chocolate flavour?”

“It’s good!”

I simply rolled my eyes. I turned towards the midde aged man and ordered vanilla and mint chocolate ice cream.

“Vanilla for you, sir.” The man said as he handed my ice cream.

“And chocolate for the girlfriend.” He said as he handed hers. I felt something tugged my heart as the man said girlfriend. I had no idea why.

“He’s not my boyfriend.” She clarified immediately. I felt a tiny bit of disappointment.

“Oh really? You look so well together that’s why. Pardon me.”

I had no idea why but I suddenly placed my hands around her arms, pulling her closer towards me. “Yeah, she’s actually my fiancee.” I said and quickly steered her away from the stall before she could say anything else.

I looked at her and saw her cheeks were pink.

“Yah- what are you saying~” she said softly as she pushed me away lightly.

“Trying to give you hints.” I smirked at her and she stilled, obviously stunned at my words. I like seeing her all flustered. She cleared her throat, trying to compose herself. We then stopped at one of the standing table to finish our ice cream.

“Why did you suddenly bring me here?” She asked suddenly in between her licking. I couldn’t look for long. Otherwise, I might have the wrong idea.

I shrugged. “I’ve always wanted to come here.. just never had the time or the person to go with.”

She nodded slowly. “Me too.”

I peeked at her underneath my lashes. She always seemed oblivious to my stare. As the wind blew her hair gently, I felt the familiar tug at my chest again. I was starting to become skeptical of it. I was sure it had something to do about my feelings towards Kim Hana. Am I really falling for her? Or am I just liking her presence around me?

HANA’S POV

We ate our ice cream in silence. The crowd was deafening, there were kids running around screaming everywhere, groups of families chaotically trying to take pictures but none of that seemed to bother me. All the noise felt as if it was tuned out and all there is was the comfortable silence with Jimin. I momentarily wondered if he felt it too. I can’t help but felt as if I was on a date with him.

Briefly I remembered his remark about my so-called crush towards him and him saying I would admit to it one day. Heck- if he really meant his words, trying to make me fall for him, I’m so ruined.

Suddenly he stood up. His hand no longer holding his ice cream. He must’ve already finished it. He held his hand out to me. “Let’s go.”

Huh? What? “Where?” I frowned at him, still hesitating to take his hand.

“Just come on.” He pulled my hands and I frantically tried to bite the last of my ice cream as he steered me through the crowd. After minutes of pushing ourself through the crowd, Jimin finally stopped. I looked up and gasped in horror.

“Oh no no- you are not bringing me to a haunted house.” I shook my head frantically.

“It’s fun!” He grinned at me. He tugged me forward and I desperately tried to pull away from me but his hand firmly clasped mine.

“No- Jimin no, you are not dragging me in there-“ I warned him.

It was of no use. Moments later, I found myself standing before a dark entrance with a slanted sign saying ‘Haunted House’. He dragged me inside and it was one of the worst moment in my life. There were literal human in there scaring us! I wish I could meet the person who first came up with the idea of scaring people so that I could strangle said person.

It was horrifying but somehow it felt less so because Jimin was there all the time to protect me. Half of me hated his ass for dragging me and fearlessly coursing through the maze inside but half of me also felt touched because he had never once let go of me or left me. Or perhaps he couldn’t let go of me because I clung to him so tightly, my grip of his hands so tight I thought it might went blue but I was too scared to think.

Nearing the exit, some Bloody Mary popped out suddenly and I screamed the hell out of my lungs. Jimin wasn’t surprised so he just casually walk past, hand gripping mine firmly. But I guess the ghost didn’t feel satisfied so she spooked me from behind.

I immediately clung onto Jimin’s back because I was so panicked. I thought I lost my voice from screaming. He was laughing as we exited the haunted house while I was a total wreck. I no longer cared how I look like. I glared at him, my hands still gripping tightly the shirt on his back.

He then stopped laughing. He turned around and grabbed my hand so I was no longer gripping his shirt while staring down at me.

My mind went blank as he gazed down at me fondly. His other hand then went over my face and he gently fixed my hair. I gulped. It was again as if there were only two of us in the universe.

“I’m sorry.” He said softly.

I went speechless for a moment. How could this Park Jimin be the same Park Jimin who is rude, obnoxious, insufferable and cocky? He was so gentle I’m starting to doubt his bad boy reputation. “It’s okay.” I replied.

Then he smiled. God- when I said his smile was addictive, I was not joking. “Though not so much. I had fun seeing your reaction.”

I smacked his arms and he laughed. “Don’t you dare bring me to a haunted house again!”

“Sure, sure.” He replied half-heartedly. I narrowed my eyes at him. “Okay, okay, let’s take one last ride okay? One that you’ll obviously like.”

My eyes lit up in excitement.

“Let’s ride the Vikings.” As soon as he said that, I screamed in excitement and immediately headed towards it, jumping every now and then. I laughed as he got stuck in the crowd. Eventually, he reached me. We queued for a while before it reached our turn.

“Ready?” He asked me as we sat ourselves at the seats. We were seating at the most end row because it was the most thrilling - I think.

I nodded enthusiastically, grinning wide at him. Must’ve been contagious because he grinned back at me.

The ride began to kick back and the tension built as everyone went quiet. “This... is... so... fun!!!!!” I screamed when the Vikings descended quickly after that.

Mid-ride, I felt raindrops on my hand. Oh- shit. It’s going to rain! At first, the rain was drizzling. As the Vikings started to slow down, it started to pour. I looked at Jimin in panic but he was just laughing at the situation.

“Jimin it’s not funny! We’re going to get drenched!” As soon as we were set on the ground, we quickly exited the ride. Most people were frantic trying to take shelter. The both of us took cover near the standing table with shades over it.

“We are soaked!” I looked at myself as my shirt hugged my curves. I looked at Jimin. He was eyeing me a bit differently than usual. His gaze was sensual, it made me hot despite the cold rain.

“I know.” He replied, his voice low. I noticed his wet shirt was stuck on his body too. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the trace of his chest and toned abs underneath. He stepped closer to me.

I gulped but didn’t break contact with his eye. It was as if I was inviting him closer to me.

He took another step forward and leaned closer, his face now only inches against mine. Although the proximity between us was damn close, he didn’t proceed to inch his face further which was driving me crazy. There was a silent competition between us, trying to see who would give in first.

The sound of the pouring rain was loud on our ears but the noise in my head was louder. In the end, I gave up. I crashed my lips against his first.

I could sense him smiling against the kiss. Jerk. But at that time, I couldn’t care less about my pride.

He deepened the kiss and I smiled. I guess we both lost against each other. Within seconds my hand was in his hair, his was firm on my waist. I broke the kiss to gasp for air but he was quick to attack my neck with wet kisses and I inevitably moaned.

His kisses and touches were arousing me. I arched my back, shoving my breast higher towards him. I was getting bold with my advances. It was probably the thrill and adrenaline rush from the rides that I became more daring in my actions. I pressed my hips against his and I could feel his hardened crotch against mine.

“Hana-“ he broke the kiss, gasping for air as his eyes searched mine.

I smirked at him and bit my lower lip seductively. My hands held his biceps as I started to grind myself against him. I could see his surprised expression at my brazen move.

“Fuck-“ he tilted his head back as pleasure coursed through him. My breath hitched from the excitement of grinding against this Godly creature named Park Jimin.

His hand went towards my breast and he grazed against them teasingly earning a moan from me. I want him to touch me..

“God- Hana stop- we’re in public.” He said although his own voice was cracking.

Shit! Realization hit me. I was so lost in the moment that I forgot where we were. I looked around. Thank God the rain was so heavy nobody could see anything.

“I’m sorry. I was just caught in the moment.”

“Are you sure it’s not because you have a crush on me?” He cocked one side of his eyebrow.

“Shut up!”

He laughed. “I don’t think the rain would be stopping soon. I’d say we just run through it. I’ll bring the car around.”

I was still blushing red thinking about my bold advances so I just quickly nodded.

“Here.” He extended his left hand at me and I sheepishly took it. “Ready? 3, 2, 1!”

And we were running in the heavy rain and to be completely honest, I was soaked down to the underwear. He left me by the ticket counter near the entrance so that I may take cover from the rain while he disappeared to retrieve his car.

He came by few minutes after that and I quickly got in the car. The water was dripping wet from my body the car seat was drenched within seconds. I looked at Jimin guiltily.

“What?” He asked without looking at me. How does he even know I was looking at him?

“Your car seat...”

He glanced for a brief second. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll send you the invoice after 3 working days.”

“Jimin!” I cried at him. I felt really guilty for wetting the seat especially because it was a freaking expensive car but he still had the nerve to joke about it.

“I told you don’t worry about it. It’ll dry.”

“Really? It won’t affect anything? Any stain after that or something?”

“No it doesn’t. Unless the rain was made of coffee or something.”

I heaved a sigh of relief. I didn’t dare to lean my back against the backrest as I tried to minimise as much casualty. The car then veered into an expensive looking residential apartment area. This is not my house area, I frowned.

The rain was still heavy here but Jimin drove straight into the lower ground parking lot and we were saved from the rain.

“Where is this?” I asked but didn’t earn any reply from him as he reversed the car into a parking lot.

“Come.” He simply said and exited the car. I did too.

He then led me into an elevator that looked too extravagant and exquisite for a parking lot. He pressed the button and the doors closed. He turned to look at me.

“What?”

His lips curled as if trying to stiffle a smile. “Nothing.”

I narrowed my eyes at him but decided not to press further. I was still curious on where he’s taking me. The elevator reached level 30 and Jimin exited so I just followed suit.

Could it be.. that he’s bringing me to his place? I wondered. At the same time, I was nervous as fuck. He turned right and then stopped in front of a door. He punched in his passcodes then gestured me to enter the house.

I was stunned by the view that greeted me. It was a luxurious apartment full of expensive furnitures and sophisticated interiors. I gulped as I take in the sight.

“This is my apartment.” He said as the doors closed behind us.

“Jimin..” My eyes widening by the second.

“Hmm?”

“You’re rich.” I said matter-of-factly.

“Uh... thanks?”

“No, I mean, you’re rich, rich.”

Link to Chapter 10

Posted on 200615 2:09PM

[dailyaudiobible]

12/19/2020 DAB Transcript

Zephaniah 1:1-3:20, Revelation 10:1-11, Psalms 138:1-8, Proverbs 30:11-14

Today is the 19th day of December welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I am Brian and it's great to be here with you as we close another week down together and take the next step forward. And as has been the custom lately, like we’re reading a book a day and we’ll be doing that today. We’ll read an entire book in the Old Testament.

Introduction to the book of Zephaniah:

This is the ninth of the minor prophets and its name is Zephaniah. And it's similar to some of the other minor prophets in that we don't know much about who Zephaniah was. The only clues within the text is that the message from Zephaniah came when Josiah son of Amon was king of Judah. And then there's a little bit of lineage. Zephaniah was the son of Cushi the son of Gedaliah the son of Amaria the son of Hezekiah. And that little lineage may actually be a major clue because a lot of times in the Scriptures, a lot of times in antiquity, it's…it's not like an entire multiple generational description. A lot of times when you're talking about somebody or just saying, “this person who is the son of this man.” For example, my son's name is Ezekiel and if he were introducing himself, he’s a little guy so he wouldn’t be doing that, but if he were…he’d be…in antiquity he’d be saying, “I'm Ezekiel bar Brian”, right? The son of Brian. He wouldn't necessarily continue that lineage back to his great-great-grandfather unless his great-great-grandfather were significant. And in this case, it's possible that Zephaniah was a descendent of the reforming king Hezekiah, which would explain how Zephaniah was aware of his surroundings and literate and also why, perhaps is prophetic utterances would be preserved. Obviously, credibility comes if you're an ancestor of a king. The name Zephaniah means “God has hidden.” And the text states that the message was given during the reign of Josiah. So, that would put him somewhere in the middle of the 600s B.C., or thereabouts, which would make him contemporary with other prophets that are famous and biblical like Jeremiah. A lot of textual scholars believe that Zephaniah had to be familiar with at least the writings of the prophet Isaiah because there's a similarity in the language and the tone. And we have read a number…like we’ve been reading prophecies for months now. And, so, we understand that a lot of times and most of the time prophecies are targeted very specific to a very specific people for very specific reasons. Zephaniah’s a little different there, because he's…he's essentially prophesying judgment on the whole known world, including Judah, including the Hebrew people. And, so, we come across a term that we have seen elsewhere, “the day of the Lord.” and that is the theme in Zephaniah. And, of course, we’re reading the book of Revelation as well. So, this “day of the Lord” this kind of final judgment sort of idea is ever present in front of us as we continue forward. But we should understand what God wants…wanted and wants to get rid of because it's not people that He wants to destroy. It’s evil that He wants to destroy. And when people want to hold on to their evil…well…then they get what they want. They get to hold onto their evil, but God gets what He wants, and the evil gets eradicated. And, so, the people doom themselves. But as we have learned from biblical prophecy, there is a foretelling of things that…that are to come or that may come if change doesn't occur, if repentance doesn't happen. But then there's the other side of that. What if…what if you do humble yourself? What if you do return to God? And then we hear words of abundant restoration. And Zephaniah is no different. And, so, there are three chapters in Zephaniah. We’re reading from the Good News Translation this week. Zephaniah one through three.

Prayer:

Father, we thank You for Your word. We thank You for another week. We are so grateful to You for giving us the gift of Your word, and giving us the gift of each other to move through a year of life together in Your word and community. We are grateful. And, so, as we close down this week we look to the proverb and we identify the kind of people that we don't want to be. There may be people who curse their Fathers and do not show appreciation for their mothers, may that not be said of us, Lord. There are people who think they are pure when they are as filthy as they can be. May that not be said of us Lord. There are people who think they are so good. How good they think they are. Lord our only goodness, and we declare this and confess it, the only good thing about us is You. You make us good. If we are good, it is because of You. Left to our own devices we know…we know where things go. And, so, may the pride and arrogance spoken of here never be said of us. And there are people who take cruel advantage of the poor and needy, even making a living by taking advantage of the poor and needy. Father the Scriptures over…You have said over and over and over that this has no place in Your kingdom. So, may this never be said of us. And as we close this week down and prepare to move into the next week, Christmas week, we invite Your Holy Spirit to hover and permeate everything that we do and say and think, all of our thoughts, words and deeds. We pray this in the name of Jesus. Amen.

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And it's Christmas time around here. And we’re about to go through this weekend and enter Christmas week. Super excited about that.

Next week will be our Christmas party, our annual Christmas...well…it is our virtual Christmas party when we get to hear from each other. Looking forward to that early next week.

Reminding you of the Family Christmas album that is really the soundtrack here around the Global Campfire for the holiday season. You can stream it. Just look for my name, Brian Hardin or Family Christmas and my name and you’ll find it. You can stream it on Spotify, or Apple music or wherever. You can…you can buy it from those places as well. If you want a physical copy, like a physical CD of it, you can get that from the Daily Audio Bible Shop. But adding that into the mix of the Christmas season is…well…I mean it was intended to be kind…just to create the kind of atmosphere that we try to create here every day - serenity, peace, hope, and a relaxing exhale. And, so, check out Family Christmas.

Also, we released last week a Christmas single from Jill my wife, “O Holy Night”, one of the classic Christmas carols of all time. And I mentioned this, I don’t know, the day before yesterday or whatever, when you listen to the words to that song it brings so much context and hope into the holiday season. So, you can stream that at Spotify or Apple music or YouTube music or Google play or wherever. You can also buy it from those places. So, check those out.

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible you can do that at dailyaudiobible.com as well and I think you profoundly. There is a link on the homepage. If you’re using the Daily Audio Bible app, you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner or the mailing address is PO Box 1996 Spring Hill Tennessee 37174.

And, as always, if you have a prayer request or encouragement, you can hit the Hotline button in the app or you can dial 877-942-4253.

And that's it for today. I’m Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Hi DAB family this is Dorothy out in California with a small prayer request. I got 39 shot…Botox shots for migraines. And, you know how when you sign a waiver and you never think it’s going to happen? It happens. Aside from all the things that almost…I mean…a lot of the things on the list, the hardest one is that I lost muscle control around my eyes. I have a forehead of a 20-year-old, but I can’t use my eyes. It…it’s…I…it’s actually really hard. I can’t drive. I can only see 1 foot in front of me. Actually, a couple days ago I ate strawberries and anyway I ate slugs in my strawberries. I didn’t see em’. I washed them. I did a good job washing em’ but I didn’t see them. So it’s been…it’s been hard. God assured me before I, you know, before I lost control of both…but God assured me when this started it’s temporary. And I know Botox lasts one or two months but it’s gonna be one or two months of this. And the counter medicine isn’t working. Anyway, I have an appointment with a neurologist on Wednesday. But anyway… so if you could just please pray for me. It’s small, I know, but I love you guys so very very very very much and I love you all. Okay. Thank you. Bye. I appreciate…

Hey, it’s Val in Vegas today’s December 15th. I’m so happy to come to you guys today in the last 15th of the year. We made it guys. Through God’s grace we made it. How this year started for me is absolutely unbelievable, but the real joy and power’s in God’s love and grace for me…for all of us and how I’m finishing it. To say the 2020s has been an unusual and challenging year would be an understatement. I just want you guys to know that I am doing good. I know one thing that’s happened this year for me is I have developed a deeper closer relationship with the Lord, and it has been wonderful. I needed to be closer to him in this quarantine as it’s just me and my little dog that live together and the Lord has really shown up and showed out in my life this year. I just want to say thank you guys for all the prayers and well wishes and thoughts and just love. And please know that I am putting that right back into this DAB world. I absolutely love you guys and if you don’t mind, I’m gonna continue calling in on the 15th of every month. I’ve enjoyed being committed to that and sharing my life with you guys. I love you all so much. You have no idea. So, thank you for holding me up and for loving me and caring for me. Val in Vegas out until January 15, 2021.

Hi Daily Audio Bible family this is All the Treasures in Wyoming with an update. If you all remember months ago, I asked you guys to pray for sweet Emily who had almost lost her life and was in the ICU. She had thrown some blood clots, her kidneys had failed. I mean it was a really urgent prayer request and you guys came through and you prayed. And even more than that God came through and answered those prayers with a yes. And I got to see Emily yesterday and I got to give her a hug. And she said that she is…she sent me this text…she said that she is walking without a cane and that her brain injury is coming along slowly. She’s off dialysis for now because her kidneys are waking up. And then she said, this is all God’s plan. Maybe not mine, but I pray to him morning noon and night. And if you guys also remember we weren’t sure whether or not Emily knew Him, right? So, I just want to encourage you. When I went to see her and I gave her a hug I asked her, I said, Emily did you get the letter that was dropped off to you while you were in the ICU. And she said yes, I did. And she said I kept that letter with me. It was up where I could read it every single day in my ICU room. And when I went to the long term acute care rehab that letter went with me and it was also up in my room where I could read it every day. And it’s one of those things that reminded me that I wasn’t alone and that I could get through it. And in that letter, I reminded her…well…I share the gospel with her and told her who Jesus was but I also told her who you guys all were. I said there are people all over the world praying for you right now. And she said that that helped her get through. But I do know today that she knows the Lord and I just wanted to thank you guys again for praying. God bless you guys. And to God be all the glory

Eyes of the Dove in Sekomane Washington lifting up prayers this morning 5 AM heading to work for Harold in St. Louis and your son. And I heard another father call in and broken for your son. And my goodness it was like a chain reaction. It made me feel broken too. I instantly thought of Brayden and Rylan my children remembering when they were born and their perfect body’s and their perfect little toes, counting their totes. And as you get the report about his foot, every piece, every part of your precious son is so important. Father, I just lift up Harold and his son. Father, I ask that blood would flow. Father that his body would be…would line up in the name of Jesus that that boy’s foot Father would be healed by Your blood. We call him healed Father. I ask for Your peace, Your peace that surpasses our understanding would be upon this family. And we just put on the full armor of God on Harold God as he goes through this…this hardship. There’s so many things going on this year that he’s having to process and now this. And this is no little thing. And we ask for protection of our children Lord Jesus in every way, their minds and their bodies, that nothing would be touched, nothing would be touched in Jesus’ name. Care about you Harold. Coming around you. You’re not alone.

[dvp95]

quiet on widow’s peak (4)

pairing: dan howell/phil lester, pj liguori/sophie newton/chris kendall rating: teen & up tags: paranormal investigator, mystery, online friendship, slow burn, strangers to lovers, nonbinary character, trans character, background poly, phil does some buzzfeed unsolved shit and dan is a fan word count: 3.9k (this chapter), 13.5k (total) summary: Phil’s got a list of paranormal experiences a mile long that he likes to share with the world. Abandoned buildings, cemeteries, and ghost stories have always called his name, and a particular fan of his has a really, really good ghost story.

read this chapter on ao3 or here!

Phil did not invite Chris and Sophie to come to Rossendale with him. Not because he doesn't like spending time with them, but because he wouldn't know how to explain a situation to his parents that he doesn't even understand himself. To his knowledge, PJ also did not invite them.

"Change it," Chris whines from the backseat. He'd lost the scuffle against Phil to claim the front, and he's been complaining about Phil's music choices for half the trip so far in retaliation.

"You like McFly," Phil huffs, continuing his search for an album that won't elicit a loud sigh from behind him.

"That's fucking slander, is what that is. You hear that, PJ?"

"Oh, I hear you both," PJ says, flat. "Loud and clear."

They've only been driving for probably forty minutes and PJ already looks like he wants to kick them all out of his car. Phil doesn't exactly blame him, although he resents being lumped in with Chris in the 'annoying background noise' category.

He has no idea how they've managed to invite themselves along, but Phil was too polite and PJ was too smitten to tell them off when they came out to the car with their bags.

So, this is a group activity now. Phil's parents had been thrilled to hear it when he texted them the updated situation - they're taking it as a sign that Phil has a motley crew of good friends again, like he'd had as a kid and again in uni. He supposes that they're not wrong, exactly, but he's definitely anxious about introducing them to Chris.

"I like this song," Sophie says, mild, and Chris closes his mouth.

"Fine, this one is alright," he says begrudgingly. Phil glances at them in the rearview - Sophie is patting Chris' knee and giving him the sort of smile that always makes Phil feel like he shouldn't be present. He looks back down at his phone so he doesn't have to sit with that feeling too long.

PJ turns up the volume, probably to curb any more bickering before he has to toss them all out of his car, and Phil tries to just lose himself in the music for a little bit.

His friends sing along at varying levels of obnoxiousness and Phil tries not to keep opening the Tumblr app to see if someone has messaged him. Well, someone specific. I'm going north today!, is the last message sent between them, and Phil is still waiting for Winnie to offer to meet up or something.

After their non-starter interview, Phil and Winnie kept missing each other's free time to finish it over Skype. Phil kind of wants to hear more from them before he checks it out himself, but that's not looking likely at this point, especially if he's lugging his housemates along with him all weekend.

Phil opens a puzzle game on his phone and lets the mostly-mindless swiping distract him. It's a long drive up to Rossendale, and the last thing Phil wants is to be left alone with his thoughts.

--

Phil's parents love having guests round almost as much as they love to have him home, so Phil isn't at all surprised to walk in and smell a roast cooking. He expects that treats will be made as soon as the oven is free, because that's what his mum is like.

"Hello," Phil calls into the house, kicking off his shoes. His friends follow his lead - PJ puts his boots carefully on the mat that Phil didn't bother aiming for, and Sophie struggles with a particularly stubborn knot in her laces - as he hangs up his jacket. "Mum? Dad?"

"Child," his mum greets him happily, appearing in the entry to the kitchen and making grabby hands at him until he envelops her in a hug.

"Missed you," Phil tells her, quiet enough that his friends won't hear to make fun of him.

"Oh, I missed you," she says, giving him a kiss on the side of his face. She turns her beaming smile onto his housemates, who all pause in what they're doing like a frozen tableau. It's a little funny. "More children! Hello! I'm Kathryn, it's so nice to meet you. And so nice to see you again, PJ," she adds in that somewhat pointed voice that Phil hates so very much.

"Hello, Kath," PJ says, grinning wide. He gives her a hug, too. Chris holds out his hand for her to shake when she's done squeezing the life out of PJ, but Kath will have none of it.

"Don't be silly," she says, wrapping her arms tight around Chris' waist with a laugh. "We hug in this family."

"Really?" Chris asks, and the look he gives Phil is almost more embarrassing than if he'd asked 'so why isn't your son a hugger?' out loud. "Something smells absolutely delicious, Kathryn. Is that you, or is supper cooking?"

Phil stops himself from groaning out loud, but barely. He probably shouldn't be surprised at all that Chris' cheeky, flirtatious charm extends to mothers as well. Kath laughs and smacks lightly at Chris' chest before she turns to Sophie.

Skilled at making people feel comfortable in four seconds flat, Kath chatters away about supper and how lovely Sophie's curls are and how long it's been since she's seen Phil, did they know how long it's been? She herds them all into the kitchen like they're cattle and insists that Phil take their things upstairs while she puts the kettle on.

"Er, alright," Phil says, looking at the small collection of bags that they'd brought with them. Their clothes and toiletries are all there, of course, but so is all the filming and hunting equipment. He'll have to make at least two trips.

"Your father got the guest room and Martyn's room all set up before he went out," she tells him, either not noticing or ignoring his internal struggle.

Oh, wonderful. Phil had somehow forgotten about the part where they had three beds for four of them. He's positive that his housemates won't mind sharing with each other, but now he's been tasked with the anxiety-inducing puzzle of whose bags to put where.

"Okay," Phil says again, even though they've moved on to talking about their favourite kinds of cakes so that Kath can wow them all with her skills. He tries to catch PJ's eye, but PJ is too wrapped up in a conversation about strawberries to notice.

Alright, well. Phil grabs as many bags as he can carry and brings them upstairs, feeling some tension deep inside him get a little tighter as he notices that most of their personal effects are packed away, either in storage or already on the island, and his childhood home looks more like a show home than he's comfortable with. The stairs only creak a little under his weight, nothing like the old house in Brighton, but Phil still feels unsettled.

In the end, he throws PJ and Sophie in the guest room. It's a selfish move more than anything, because he's brought PJ for enough visits to be familiar with the way his parents look at each other every time PJ teases him.

They don't ask. They're not the type of people to pry, and Phil isn't the type of people to offer information unprompted. They've all been in this limbo for years where Phil doesn't tell them that he likes boys and they don't outright question if PJ is just a friend and, frankly, Phil is tired of it. So, Chris can sleep alone.

He takes his own bags up last, because he knows that stepping into his bedroom and seeing all the personality stripped from it is going to make him feel things he isn’t prepared to feel. Phil takes a deep breath before he goes inside, and releases it shakily as he drops his things on the floor.

The beige carpet is almost mocking him, telling him that it's time to grow up, and Phil leaves the room as fast as he can.

--

God it is so hard to get anything done here. Sorry to complain at you randomly but like... I forgot how hard it is to work when my parents are hovering and asking a million questions lmao

Winnie still hasn't responded to Phil's early morning message, but the frustration of his parents distracting him and his friends from their work is starting to get to him. Chris has completely charmed them, somehow, and both Sophie and PJ are too polite to put headphones on and ignore them the way Phil has decided to.

Surprisingly, he gets a reply right away: omg how have i never considered the fact that you had to tell your parents you wanted to hunt ghosts for a living thats so fucking funny also that sucks i live in a house full of students and i always have to go to the coffee shop to work on essays and shit

There's nothing good like that where my parents live. Your coffee place is in the city, right?

“No! He didn’t!” Chris is laughing, somewhere in the living room, and Phil has to turn up the white noise on his headphones. The idea of his parents and housemates trading embarrassing stories about him while he's holed up at the table with audio files he hates makes him itch.

yeah, Winnie says. Phil is so thrown off by the short message that his fingers pause on the keyboard.

Is he annoying them? He doesn't mean to. Phil thinks over the messages they've exchanged since talking on Skype, the wheel of worst case scenarios spinning quickly.

Before Phil can apologise or even really get his anxious mind to settle down, his laptop bloops again, once, twice, three times. Relief from the worry that Winnie doesn't like talking to him curls around Phil's shoulders, relaxing them.

It's a screenshot of Google Maps with an address pulled up, a different building circled in a bright blue. yeah i hella recommend and it's really close to wilkins as well, is the message accompanying the screenshot. Then, right afterwards, 10/10 hot chocolate if i do say so myself.

Phil isn't very big on hot chocolate on its own, but he is very big on quiet coffee shops.

It takes a lot of cajoling and promises that he won't be out too late for Phil to convince his parents that they'll be fine to drive to the city by themselves. His dad gets the same look on his face that he always does when Phil talks about work, but his mum merely pats his cheek and says, "Oh, love, be careful. I'll be cross if I have to get you from the police again."

"That was one time," Phil says, feeling his face flush as Chris looks at him with glee.

"One time too many," Nigel says, a bit too sternly to be a joke. Phil wonders if his friends pick up on it or if they just think he's banting like he's been all through supper, that same dry humour that Phil can see in Martyn making him funnier than his housemates had expected.

PJ and Sophie both laugh a bit, so... probably just Phil's knowledge of his dad making it more pointed than it really needs to be.

The coffee shop is open late, so Phil and his housemates decide to do some recon at the Wilkins place. The sun hasn't quite set yet, and the street isn't completely deserted or anything, so they have to wait for a good moment to leave the car.

They're careful. They've done this before.

The Wilkins place is an older townhouse in Rusholme with windows that have been boarded up since the early noughties because they kept getting broken. Technically, someone still owns the property, but the Wilkins family either didn't care about it or had forgotten it existed, because it's been abandoned as long as Phil can remember.

It also isn't very scary in his memory. It's draughty and has rats scurrying about, but the electricity and heating still worked, somehow, and the social situations he'd gotten thrown into at Martyn's shoulder were definitely more nerve-wracking than the house itself.

All of these things are still more or less true, according to everything Phil has been told, but when Phil climbs in through the loose boards of the kitchen window, the hairs on the back of his neck stand straight up. He hesitates for so long on the sill that Chris pushes a bit at him, reminding him to move before some annoyed neighbour calls the police.

It's dim inside but not so dark that Phil's eyes strain; the streetlights and setting sun filter in through the boards and showcase the dust covering every surface.

Phil helps Sophie and then Chris through the window, PJ giving them boosts from the outside. They take the various bags from PJ and Sophie immediately pulls out the camera, ignoring the thuds that PJ's feet make as he launches himself up and clambers in like a monkey.

"Sexy," Chris drawls as PJ nearly tumbles onto his face. He's grabbing out equipment of his own, and so Phil is tasked with getting PJ through the window safely.

"At least I've got a modicum of upper body strength," PJ says. Neither of them are bothering to whisper, and that's making Phil anxious.

He can't put his finger on it, but... it doesn't feel like they're alone in here. There's probably someone hiding out from the chill of late October in one of the various empty rooms, and Phil's worst case scenario wheel is spinning so fast it's making him dizzy.

"Do you hear that?" Sophie asks, hushed. That stops PJ and Chris from continuing their bickering, and all three men freeze as they strain for whatever it is that Sophie's hearing. After a moment of complete silence, Sophie shakes her head. "It stopped. Hopefully the mic caught it over you lot."

PJ looks appropriately abashed, but Chris just shrugs. He's got a flashlight and an EMF meter, and he slings one of the bags over his shoulder before disappearing.

This is technically for Phil's channel - they're checking the place out, and Sophie is filming just in case something happens - but Phil still feels weird when PJ ducks off in another direction and Sophie stays at his side instead of following one of her boys, camera steady in her hands and the tip of her nose pink from the cool air.

"What did you hear?" Phil murmurs, beckoning her further into the house. The sound of creaking wood is so loud, like it's right above their heads, and Phil can only hope that it's one of his friends going upstairs.

"It could have been the wind," Sophie says mildly. "Or rats."

"Is that what it sounded like?"

Sophie blinks up at him and her mouth twists in an emotion that Phil can't place. "No. No, it sounded like a person talking."

Yeah, that's what Phil was afraid of. "Someone might be living here," he whispers, focusing on the dark hallway and trusting that Sophie is following.

The creaking again, this time from beside them, and Phil peeks his head around the corner to confirm that the staircase is what he's hearing. Chris is halfway up it, flashlight off between his teeth as he grips the railing like he's afraid the stairs are going to give out under him.

Phil hates this part. He'd rather do this completely alone than have to herd his friends like sheep. He leaves Chris to his own devices and moves into the lounge. This is where the majority of the litter is, empty bottles and cans and crisp bags everywhere. Phil takes a couple photos of it all and sends them to Martyn.

Remember your friend who used to bring a garbage bag to every party? Looks like he was the only one lol

He pauses. All too aware of Sophie's eyes and possibly the camera lens on him, Phil sends the photo to Winnie as well with a different caption: Does it always look like this?

Neither of them respond by the time Phil has picked his way through the first floor, which is at least good for his focus, but it doesn't explain why the house feels so much different than it had seven or eight years ago. Phil feels unsettled here in a way that he doesn't usually get anymore, goosebumps down his arms that aren't from the cold and the constant, unnerving feeling that someone is looking at him from the shadows.

Phil's phone buzzes as he and Sophie debate in whispers if they should go upstairs. Phil hates leaving anything to someone else, even if it's just a few rooms that surely PJ and Chris are capable of exploring on their own. He's in the middle of trying to explain that to Sophie when his voice catches in his throat.

"Peej says we should go," Phil says, interrupting himself. "He found something weird in the attic."

"What's he doing in the attic?" Sophie hisses.

"Dunno. I didn't even know there was an attic."

"We should go, then," says Sophie, like that decides it. Although it does rankle a bit to be lower on the totem pole of his own project, Phil has to admit that Sophie is right. If PJ is saying that it's time to go, then it's time to go.

Phil climbs out of the window first, taking the equipment with him, and then helps hoist Sophie safely down. She's so small that it's not even a strain, really, even with how little exercise Phil gets. They wait, huddled together, and Phil feels some of the knot in his chest start to loosen when he hears Chris and PJ arguing in whispers before the window boards get slid out of the way again.

"What did you find?" Phil asks immediately, and PJ hushes him on his way down.

"Let's go, I'll tell you at the café," he whispers, leading the way down the pavement with strides so purposeful that Phil wonders if he's been in this area before. It's all the rest of them can do to keep up with him, and Phil spares a moment to feel sorry for Sophie and her short legs.

He hangs back with her and lets Chris keep pace with PJ. Chris is still talking at a silent PJ in a hushed, passionate tone, like he's fighting with a brick wall, and Phil doesn't need to be involved in that.

The coffee shop is only a couple of streets away, but the tension that the Wilkins place and PJ's subsequent discovery has brought to the group makes it feel much further. PJ stops in front of a purple door, and Phil has a begrudging respect for his ability to remember where something is after simply being told the address. The shop is small and a little dingy, but the lighting inside is soft through the narrow windows and there's a fireplace that Phil longs to curl up in front of like a cat.

Chris scowls at PJ and holds the door open for him in the same breath. Phil doesn't understand their relationship and at this point he's too afraid to ask, but he ducks into the inviting warmth anyway to try to get the goosebumps off his skin.

The two employees behind the counter look at the door like they've been caught with their hands in a cookie jar. A girl with brightly-coloured hair is holding a bunch of marshmallows, a hand poised mid-throw, and an unreasonably tall guy with an unreasonably large mouth is gawping as one of the marshmallows hits him in the chin.

"You missed," Phil informs them, grinning a bit as he unwinds his scarf.

"Oops," the girl laughs, setting the marshmallows down and pulling up a customer service smile. "What can I get for you guys?"

While PJ and Sophie pore over the menu and Chris starts asking if she'll throw marshmallows into his mouth if he asks very nicely, Phil's eyes drift to the other worker.

His mouth is still open, a bit, and his face flushes when their eyes meet. "Er," he says, glancing behind him as if Phil is looking at someone else, and that's so endearing that Phil is sufficiently distracted from the mystery down the street.

Phil isn't extremely self-conscious or anything, but he also knows he's not going to be the hottest guy in a room, so he's a bit flattered and a lot confused about this guy's reaction to him.

The thing is, the guy is very attractive. A couple of perfect curls poke out from under his cap, and there's some type of shimmer on his face that Phil could not put a name to if you paid him. He knows literally nothing about makeup, but he knows that it makes this giant of a man look softer and his blush even more obvious when it deepens.

"Hi," Phil says, giving him a little wave. He can still hear Chris chattering on and Sophie debating the merits of a hot chocolate versus a cappuccino, so he's pretty sure nobody is paying them any attention. The guy twitches like he wants to look over his shoulder again, but he stops himself.

"Uh, hi? Sorry to be, like, weird, I just - I didn't expect -"

The voice is familiar, the rambling is familiar, and then it clicks. "Oh, hi," Phil says again, warmer this time. He steps closer to the counter and grins up at them - an unusual thing in itself, since Phil doesn't meet many people taller than him. "You didn't mention that you work here."

Winnie's shoulders slump forward in a kind of relief, and they scratch the back of their neck, looking awkward and out of place even in an outfit that coordinates with the colour scheme of the whole shop. Phil looks the uniform over and immediately regrets it, because he didn't mean to see Winnie's name tag and now he feels weird about knowing something he wasn't actually told. He doesn't feel too weird about being here, though, because - well. Winnie had technically invited him.

"Honestly, I didn't know you'd be 'investigating' so soon," says Winnie. They're still blushing and the finger quotes are somehow cute, even though they're being used to poke at Phil's career. Their nails are dark and sparkly, and Phil desperately needs to stop noticing things about their hands. "I would have told you, probably, or I'd just - I dunno, try to make a better first impression."

"You're making a fine first impression," Phil assures them.

Winnie snorts. "Oh, bullshit."

"Phil," PJ says, nudging him. Phil suddenly remembers that there are, in fact, other people around him, and he can't just keep looking at Winnie's long, dark eyelashes. "What are you having?"

Honestly, Phil hasn't even looked at the menu. He's so easily distracted by pretty boys with big hands and - oh, right, he's got to be careful about that, even in his own head. Especially in his own head. Winnie isn't a pretty boy, he really shouldn't be thinking about them like that at all.

"Uh," Phil says eloquently. He's very particular with his hot drinks, usually, but he's got a lot going on in his mind right now and it's easier just to shrug at Winnie than to look away and think. "Dunno, actually. Surprise me?"

Winnie smiles, and Phil's stomach twists. "I can do that."

[ladybaelish]

I’m Comin Over (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Rating: T

MC is Alex Coleman 

It’s my first time writing something for Open Heart! Hope yall like this. :) This piece was inspired by the song I’m Comin’ Over by Chris Young. Seriously, that song has Ethan x MC post chapter 17 written all over it. 

________________________________________________________________

One week.

It had been one week since the hearing. One week since successfully curing Naveen. One week since Naveen announced he would be coming back to Edenbrook - albeit not to his former position of Head of Diagnostics, but to Administration as Chief of Medicine. No, that burden had fallen to him. It had been one week since he had involuntarily been pushed to the position of Head of Diagnostics; and of course, it had been one week since Alex Coleman came to his team as a Junior Doctor.

Truthfully, Ethan was content with how things had turned out in the end. Naveen, his mentor and only father-figure was alive and well and back in his life; Alex’s hearing went extremely well and she had gotten her job back, but not before giving him a treat to see her docking Declan Nash rightfully in his jaw. Even now, recalling the look of complete disbelief and surprise on that cretin’s face brought a small smile to his face. The two people alive that mattered to him most were safe, and that was all it took to make Ethan Jonah Ramsey happy.

Well, mostly.

Ethan walked to the kitchen in his apartment, reaching for the bottle of whiskey in one of the top cupboards. There was a heavy sigh as he poured the rich liquid, bringing it to his lips for a much-needed gulp. It was a long day at Edenbrook today (as most days usually are), however there was an onslaught of uncooperative patients which never failed to make him a tad bit irate. The only silver lining was that Alex Coleman was there with him for the most part. It was a wonder how with her around, his mood always seems to lift.

There was a light nudge at his shins, and he looked down to see Jenner staring up at him in question and expectant. With his free hand, he brushed his fingers through his fur, giving him a good scratch.

��Hey buddy, I’ll get your dinner in a bit.” Jenner yipped in excitement which brought a crack of a smile to Ethan’s lips.

Finishing his drink, he stepped back out into the living room and switched on the radio as he undressed, loosening his tie. The sound of the radio floated into the apartment.

“-ow’s everyone tonight folks? Hope you’re all safely back from a long day of work, or if you aren’t back already, then please, have a safe journey back home. Weather’s a bit wet out there tonight and roads are a bit slippery, so take extra caution driving home.”

He moved back into the kitchen and began preparing Jenner’s dinner, much to his tail-wagging delight.

“-ing to play a couple of requests from you guys. A couple of requests, from a couple of couples. It’s couple’s night tonight so let me hear all of your sappy sweet serenades for each other.”

“Here you go Jen.” Jenner’s ears perked, and he trotted towards Ethan, his tail wagging eagerly. He set the filled doggy bowl on the kitchen floor, giving Jenner a pat on the head. Jenner ignored him, immediately digging in into his dinner. “Good boy,” he whispered.

Refilling his glass, he walked back into the living room, towards the big panels of glass he had for windows. He stared at the city-horizon. He never cared for the view, he was hardly at home and the only reason he bought this apartment was because it was the only one within a ten-minute drive from Edenbrook. He never cared for what it looked like outside his sleeping quarters, that was, until his rookie stopped by and commented on how beautiful the view of the skyline was. Because of her, he now took the time to appreciate and admire the view he was privy to. It went without question that he was completely enamoured with his Junior. Alex-freaking-Coleman. It had been 1 week since they had called it quits on their not-so-secret relationship, and he was still hung over her. No one could fault him for that though. It was nigh impossible not to find her attractive. She was brilliant; he admired her fierce passion for her career and her friendships. She was beautifully fearless, never hesitating to step out of line when she believed she was doing the right thing morally, and more often than not, she was right. She was young, and he guessed that was where her fiery energy and passion came from – naivete and belief that anything was possible. Once upon a time, he was in her place. Young, brimming with energy and passion just like her. He had believed he could do anything in the medical field. And then, the arduous years at Edenbrook came. Disappointments and failures after one another, steadily bringing him down from that youthful high…making him the cold, steely man he was today. He worried constantly that she would end up like him in the future. He dreaded to see the day the fire in her eyes distinguished. If he could, he would protect her from it. He would do anything for her.

Ethan swirled his drink, blue eyes following movements of the amber liquid. He remembered the first night they saw each other outside of the hospital at Donahue’s. She had guessed his drink correctly – Scotches, neat. And in turn, he introduced to her the Special which to his pleasant surprise, she had enjoyed. He huffed, a smile creeping on his lips. She definitely had refined tastes…

He sighed, thoughts turning towards their relationship the past year. She definitely made him happier over the year and he hoped he made her happy at least once with him. If only there weren’t the ethical boundaries of an attending-intern relationship…he scowled. He couldn’t bring himself to break that boundary even though they did stretch it quite a few times the past year. He couldn’t allow himself to ruin her career. One wrong move on either of their parts could leave another black mark on her record. Sleeping with her boss… God, no that would leave a horrible stain on her promising reputation.

“And this next one goes out to a Brian from your sweetheart Mackie. He says, “remember the song that saved our relationship? To this day, ten years on, I’m glad I made the choice and went over to your place for another try at our love even after we agreed to call it quits. Happy 10th Anniversary, my love” Aw! Ain’t that just the sweetest? Here’s to celebrating this couple’s 10th anniversary with Chris Young’s I’m Comin’ Over!”

They had the blessing of a few weeks together at least. Her suspension and his resignation from Edenbrook afforded them a silver lining: they could be together without worrying about ethics or rules. And boy did they make the most of those last few days together. Especially that last night together… he could still vividly remember every touch, every kiss, every thrust. His eyes fluttered briefly, vision going hazy from the memories. He would treasure that last night till his last breath.

We say goodbye, see you around We turn our backs then turn back around

A vibration in his pocket brought him out of his daze, and he pulled his phone out to see that Alex had texted him. They took a habit to texting, much to his distaste. However, it gave him the opportunity to feel close to her without breaking any boundaries and for that he would gladly put aside any grudges he had against mobile communications. Some nights they would call, and those were the nights he always looked forward to.

Alex: Hey, got home alright? 😊

He also took to a habit to send her home at the end of the day whenever their schedules aligned.

His fingers briefly hesitated over the screen.

Ethan: Yep. Just about reached home. Don’t sleep too late, you’ve got an early start tomorrow.

He hesitated for a moment again before deigning to add a smiley emoji. Alex had said emojis added emotions to a conversation. He stared at his phone as he watched his message send, not surprised to see that she had already read it.

I’m all alone, but you’re on my phone Tellin’ me you miss me and that you’re at home

There was a beat before his phone vibrated again.

Alex: Don’t I always? Don’t you sleep late either, we’ve got that important meeting with the Big Pharma representative again. Best be prepared to step on their grubby toes. 😉

He chuckled. Ethan was about to type out a sarcastic response when another message came through from her which halted him in his tracks.

Alex: I miss you.

He sucked in a breath. No. They agreed not to continue this. He noticed his fingers had started to tremble slightly hovering over the screen. He pulled his trembling fingers away, clasping them in a fist in an attempt to stop their shaking. He couldn’t look away from his screen, and he saw that she had stopped typing or sending messages. This was what he hated about texting. He never could know what the other person was thinking or feeling through a screen. And in this case, he badly needed to know what she was thinking…thinking of sending this message! What was she thinking? What was she trying to do? Did she expect him to reply? Did she expect him to reply a certain way?

To Hell with the closure Save it for another time Try not to think about you But it ain’t workin’ Why put out a fire when it’s still burnin’

Losing his grip on his self-control, he dialled her number. It took only two rings before she picked up.

“Hey.” She breathed.

Oh God, her voice…her voice made him feel like he was choked by velvet. He shook his head, bringing his consciousness back into focus.

“What are you doing, Alex?” His voice came out colder than he intended to.

“I- “, there was a stutter in her voice, was she trembling as hard as he was? “I just needed to tell you how much I missed you. I don’t know how much longer I can keep this charade up for, Ethan.”

He swallowed and was about to answer but was cut off by her.

“I still want you, a lot. It’s maddening for me. You’re on my mind all day and seeing you, working with you, but not being able to touch you and be with you, it’s driving me nuts.” He could hear the exhaustion laced in her voice.

She sighed. “Tell me you don’t feel the same way and we’ll end this call and pretend like nothing happened tonight. I just…I needed to let you know, that’s all.”

Yeah we said that we’re done and I know that it’s late But you already know, I’m on my way

No, he couldn’t lie to her. It would be one of his biggest lies if he said he didn’t feel the same way. It was driving him nuts as well. What was Naveen thinking, putting her in close proximity with him?

There was a long silence after that and he could tell she suspected the worse when she sniffed.

“Oh, well, I guess- “

“No!” He blurted. He closed his eyes in exasperation after his outburst, fingers rubbing into his eyes tiredly. He sighed.

“I could not lie to you rookie. And the truth is I do feel the same way. You know that. You have no idea how much I want to hold you every night. But…” He sighed again.

“Well then how about just tonight?” Her soft voice floated in the tense air.

“What?”

“Well, you can’t hold me every night because of what we are to each other professionally, right?” He nodded, although she couldn’t see.

“Then how about just tonight?”

Oh, the temptation.  

“Rookie…” he warned.

“Dr. Ramsey…” she supplied, a slight tinge of tease in her voice. Ever the cheeky monkey she was.

He huffed. “We already said the other night we had together would be our last. At least while I’m still your supervisor.” He provided weakly, although they both knew he was fighting a losing battle. He was always on the losing side with every battle with her. But he didn’t mind one bit.

“To Hell with that closure. Save it for another time.”  

That was enough for him to get his body moving. To Hell with the closure indeed. They had this fire burning between them so brightly. Why put out that fire? What they had was special and he’ll be damned if he allowed it to be doused. He grabbed his jacket and keys, body in autonomous mode.

“I’m comin’ over Rookie.” He breathed, and he could hear the smile in her voice.

“Alright, Ethan. I’ll be waiting.”

He couldn’t resist the smile that spread across his face either. He was going to see her for another night. It had been one week. One week they lasted. One week before his resolve broke.

I’m comin’ over Runnin’ every red light To Hell with the closure Save it for another time Try not to think about you But it ain’t workin’ Why put out a fire when it’s still burnin’ Just when I think movin’ on is gettin’ closer I’m comin’ over

Oh I’m comin’ over

[turtle-steverogers]

Fugitives- Chap 6

Previous chapters: 1 2 3 4 5

Warnings: D E A T H (someone is shot and killed, yeet), drug mention

Ship: Eventual Ralbert

I’m so so so sorry

Albert was awoken a few hours later to the sounds of people arguing on the other side of the shower curtain.  He kept his eyes shut as he strained his ears, trying to catch what the voices were saying.

“You let someone walk away?” Whispered a voice that Albert recognized as Jack’s.

“He promised he wouldn’t run his mouth,” Came Race’s reply.

“Of course he promised, Antonio,” Came another, exasperated voice, “Anyone would promise that if you shot a gun at their wall and threatened to kill them.”

“Davey’s right,” Jack said, “I can’t believe you, Race.”

“Well, what was I supposed to do?” Race exclaimed defensively.

“Kill him, Racetrack,” Jack said, his voice was gaining volume, “You were supposed to kill him.”

“Jack Kelly, you know that I can’t fucking-”

“Yes, I’ve fucking heard it.  I’ve heard a million times that you won’t fucking kill anyone else,” Jack was speaking loudly now, “I don’t know what happened to you in Prospect.  I don’t know what part you played in Rockefeller, but you’re going to have to get the fuck over it one day, because in this fucking life, you’re gonna have to kill a few people and-”

“Shut up, Jack!” Race shouted, “Shut the fuck up.  I know that I’m gonna have to kill a few people.  Hell, you’ve made me kill a few people, but don’t fucking talk to me about Rockefeller.  Don’t ever bring that up, asshole, there’s a fucking reason I don’t talk about it.” Race’s breath hitched after the last sentence.

“Both of you quiet down, you’re going to wake people up,” The other man, Davey, scolded, “Jack, leave his past out of this.  Race, take a deep breath.  We’re going to have to think about how to deal with Albert’s roommate, but for now, I think that it would be best if we all just got some rest, okay?”

“Okay,” Jack mumbled.

“Thank you,” Davey said, “Race?”

Albert heard Race take a measured breath, “Okay,” he answered, voice strained.

“Good, get some sleep, Race,” Davey instructed, “Jack, c’mon.”

Albert cracked an eye open, watching as two silhouettes walked to the other side of the theatre.  He saw Race’s shadow pacing back and forth behind the curtain a few times, before he sat down on his cot.  It looked like he was holding his head in his hands.  

Albert felt worry claw at his gut.  What were they planning to do to Elmer?  He had half a thought to send a warning text to him, but didn’t want to find out the repercussions if Jack found out he’d contacted him.  Maybe they weren’t going to kill him, maybe they were just going to recruit Elmer like they’d done with him.  Logically, Albert knew that wasn’t the case.  

Albert let out a frustrated sigh and reached under his pillow to grab his phone.  It was nearly 6:00 am, so Elmer would be waking up within the hour to go to his morning shift at the coffee shop he worked at.  

Albert clicked into his and Elmer’s texts and bit his lip, trying to decide how to word his message.

To Elmer: Bro, do me a fat favor and stay at your girl’s place for a few days.  Don’t ask questions.  I’m handling it.  Just don’t go back to our place and never go anywhere alone.

He hovered his thumb over the send button for a few moments, then delivered it.  Elmer was no doubt going to ask questions anyway, but it was worth a shot.  He deleted their conversation and slid his phone back under his pillow.  Rolling over, he noticed that Race was no longer sitting on his cot.  In fact, it didn’t look like he was on his side of the wing at all.  Albert frowned and lifted his head, glancing around the parts of the theatre that he could see, but there was no sign of Race anywhere.  He got up, curiosity getting the better of him.  Carefully, he drew back the curtain separating his and Race’s side, eyes sweeping the dark area.  At first he didn’t see anything, then he noticed Race sitting on the ground in front of his cot.  

“You okay?” He whispered, causing Race to jump violently and turn around.

His face was lined with tear tracks, which he hastily wiped away with his shirt sleeve, “What the fuck? How long’ve you been awake?”

Albert shrugged, “Not too long.”

Race stood, then sat down on his cot, pulling his knees up to his chest.  He looked tired, “Did you hear anything?”

Albert considered telling him what he had witnessed of his conversation with Jack and Davey, but thought against it, “Nothing besides you moving around.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah..”

“Sorry for waking you.”

Albert waved a hand nonchalantly, “You didn’t, I’m a light sleeper.”

Race sniffed and lowered his chin to rest on his knees, “What do you want?”

Albert glanced down, suddenly feeling guilty for invading what was obviously a very personal moment for Race, “Uh, nothing.  Just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Race scowled, “Well, I’m fine.  Why do you care anyway?  I’ve been pretty terrible to you.”

“I was just curious, man-” They both startled when Albert’s phone began buzzing.

Race raised his eyebrows, “You better go get that before Jack or Davey hears.  They’re really strict about phones and who we’re all contacting.”

Albert huffed and let the curtain fall back into place, once again separating himself from Race.  He took his phone from under his pillow to see that Elmer was calling him.  He quickly declined the call and clicked into his texts.

To Elmer: No calling.  Just text.

From Elmer: Where the fuck are you man???? What the fuck happened yesterday??? Are you alive?????

To Elmer: Of course I’m alive, numbnuts.  I can’t tell you where I am and I can’t tell you what was happening yesterday, but you’re kinda in danger so…

From Elmer: BUdDY you can’t say all this shit without an explanation.  I’m freaking the fuck out

To Elmer: Believe me, I am too.  Listen, please just trust me.  Where are you right now? From Elmer: Sarah’s

Albert slumped onto his cot, relief flooding his system.  Elmer was safe at his girlfriend’s place, far from their apartment.

To Elmer: Thank fuck, okay.  Maybe don’t go to work tomorrow.  Or move to China and change your name.  Idc, just please look out for yourself.  Also delete this convo

From Elmer: Albert what the fuck

To Elmer: I’m sorry.  I gotta go.  Remember to delete this.  I’ll talk to you when I can

From Elmer: Jfc ok bye

Albert erased his messages once more and laid back against his pillows.  He scrolled through Instagram mindlessly, trying in vain to get tired again.  It was nearing 7:00 am, so he assumed he’d have to be up soon anyway.  Eventually, he dozed off, phone still in hand.

XXX

“The fuck?” Albert yelped as his pillow was yanked out from under his head.

“Rise and shine, bitchatcho.”

Albert looked up to see Race hovering over him, pillow in hand.

“What time s’it?” He asked, voice still thick with sleep.

“Like, 8:00 am,” Race thwacked Albert violently with the pillow, ”We gotta long day ahead of us, so get the fuck up.”

Albert glared at him for a long moment before reluctantly sitting up, “Fine, give me like, ten minutes to change and take a piss.”

“Awesome, meet me downstairs by the storage room when you’re.”

Albert gave him a sarcastic thumbs up and watched as Race left the stage.  He pulled his jeans out from under his cot and changed into them, then went to the dressing rooms to use the bathroom.  On his way downstairs, he stopped by his bin and took out a sweatshirt, yanking it over his head as he bounded down the stairs.  

As promised, Race was waiting outside the storage room, eating a banana.  There were two other men with him, one sporting a backwards hat over his curly brown hair and the other leaning heavily on a crutch.  

“Heya, Albert,” Race greeted, “Meet Finch and Crutchie.”

The one with a crutchie leaned forward, offering a hand, “As you can probably gather, outta the two of us, I’m Crutchie.  I’m Empire’s medic, so if you’re aboutta die or some shit, I’ll patch you up.”

“Uh, sounds good,” Albert said, shaking Crutchie’s hand.  He turned to the guy in the backwards hat, “And what about you?”

“Finch,” The guy grunted.

Albert cocked his head and looked at Race, who flicked the guy in the back of the head, “Sorry about him, he’s bitter.  That’s Finch.  He’s our botanist.”

“Botanist?”

“I run our drug inventory,” Finch said, toying with a cigarette and looking entirely uninterested.

“Cool, uh, nice to meet you..” Finch scanned his eyes over Albert, who crossed his arms self-consciously.

“Likewise.”

“Well, this is cozy,” Crutchie said brightly, “Anyway, I leave you all to your work.  Just thought I’d introduce myself.  Toodles!” He waved and hobbled away.

“You gotta key, Finchy?” Race asked.

“Don’t call me that,” Finch said, fishing a key out of his jacket pocket and unlocking the storage room door.

“Oh yeah,” Race said, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out another banana, “Here, before I forget it’s in there and sit on it.”  he handed the banana to Albert, who hesitantly took it.

“I didn’t poison it or some shit,” Race laughed, “Just thought you’d be hungry.”

Albert wordlessly peeled the banana and took a bite, realizing belatedly how hungry he was.  

“Race,” Finch called from inside the storage room, “What do you need?”

“Uh, get me like, two grams of pot? And...I think that’s it.  It’s a small trade.”

“Kay,” Finch emerged a moment later holding a white paper bag.  He handed it to Race who crumpled it and put it into his jacket pocket.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Higgins,” Finch held out a hand, “Give me the bag back.”

Race rolled his eyes and shoved the bag into Finch’s outstretched palm.  Finch held his glare as he neatly folded the bag over a few times, then handed it back to Race, who carefully placed it back into his pocket.

“Happy?” Race jeered.

“Extremely,” Finch answered with a fake smile, “We done here?  I would like to get coffee now.”

“Yes, we’re done, go get your bean juice.”

Finch sneered and walked away, disappearing up the stairs.

“He’s really fucking meticulous about his drugs,” Race said, zipping up his jacket.

“Meticulous,” Albert repeated, “Didn’t peg you for a fifty-cent-word kinda guy.”

“Shut up, I went to high school.  I glanced at all the SAT words.”

“Oh, did you?  So what does brevity mean?”

“Uhhhhhhh..” Race screwed up his face in thought, “I said I glanced, dude.  That doesn’t mean I retained any actual knowledge.”

“Brevity’s easy.  It’s the quality of being brief or terse.”

“Albert, have I told you you’re annoying yet?”

“Many times.”

“Okay, you’re annoying.  Now c’mon, The Bronx is waiting.”

XXX

The bleak winter air bit Albert’s face as he and Race left The Bowery.  As they walked through the street toward the nearest subway station, Albert couldn’t help but notice the strange feeling that nagged at the back of his neck.  The streets felt almost different, like they were hiding some enormous monster underneath them.  The ever-existing presence of Empire and Prospect loomed ominously over Race and Albert, blind to the eyes of other pedestrians.  He felt incredibly vulnerable, constantly paying mind to who was paying attention to them.  Anyone at any time could be a threat- there was no telling who knew what.

They caught the yellow line that would take them to The Bronx, where they were scheduled to trade with some guy in Fordham at 9:30.  It was currently 8:15 and the ride was supposed to take about forty-five minutes, leaving Albert wishing he had his headphones so he could disengage completely.

“You nervous at all?” Race’s question surprised Albert, and he turned to him

“Kinda, I guess?  How exactly does a trade work?”

“First off, for the love of God, lower your voice,” Race said, leaning in so that they could talk in quieter voices, “And it’s pretty simple.  You missed phase one, which is deciding a meet place and trade time.  We do that using the graffiti, which I’ve already told you about.  One of these days, I’ll show you the symbols we use and what they mean, but that’s not important right now.  So now, we just have to be at the coordinated location and make sure he actually has the cash he promised.  If he does, we trade, plain and easy.”

“What if he doesn’t?”

Race glanced to the side briefly, “Then, we….” he worried his lip between his teeth.

“...Kill him?” Albert tried,

Race looked down at his lap, reaching up a hand to tug at the hair on the back of his head, “I mean, no.  Killing’s not entirely necessary.  That’s like, last resort.  Like if he pulls knife on us.  Yeah, no, we’d just, like, beat him up.” He was rambling and Albert furrowed his brow.

“You alright?  Why are you getting weird?”

“I’m not,” Race said, defensively scooting backwards a bit.

“You totally are,” Albert noted that Race had shrunken in on himself, “Is this something to do with last night?  With Rockefeller or whatever Jack was talking about?” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Albert regretted them.  

He silently cursed his lack of a filter as Race whipped his head up, “What? How did you-” he scooted backwards further as his expression turned furious, “So you were listening.  You lied to me, DaSilva.  This puts you on thin fucking ice.”

Albert pursed his lips, annoyed with himself.

“If you were listening so carefully,” Race seethed, “Then you should have known not to fucking bring that up.”

“M’sorry,” Albert mumbled.

Race didn’t answer as he busied himself in pulling out his headphones, though Albert could see his hands shaking.  Albert sat back in his seat and pulled out his own phone, electing to catch up on SnapChat until they arrived in The Bronx.

Fordham was significantly sketchier than the neighborhoods Albert was used to.  The storefronts they passed were all worn down and the deeper Race led Albert into the area, the dirtier it got.  Race hadn’t spoken a word to him since their conversation on the train, leaving Albert more or less in the dark about the specifics of where they were going.  Eventually, they arrived at an abandoned auto-shop.  

Race walked around to the back of the lot and knocked on one of the garage doors.  It opened a moment later to reveal a tall, gruff looking guy.

“You Racetrack?” He asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Yes, sir, I am,” Race said, sauntering over to him, “But, a little piece of constructive criticism, don’t ever voice your assumptions.  If you had been wrong about who was just now, that could have meant serious trouble for the both of us.”

The guy looked unimpressed, “I expected you to be less twiggy.”

“And I expected you to have more than one brain cell, but alas.”

“Whatever,” The guy said, “You got the shit?”

“Yeah,” Race retrieved the paper bag containing the weed from his jacket, “And you’ll get it as soon as I see the cash.”

The guy reached into his back pocket and produced an envelope, “Here, you see it.  Now give me the goddamn pot already.”

“Nuh uh uh,” Race wagged his finger, “Calm down, you useless junkie.  I already made it very clear the other day that it’s cash first, weed second.  Hand it over.”

“Show me the pot first,” Race opened the bag and held it out for the guy to see.  He peered at the bag’s contents, inspecting it closely, “And that’s two grams?”

Race clicked his tongue, “It should be.”

The guy nodded and reached into the envelope, revealing a large wad of cash.  He held it out for Race to take, who in turn, handed the paper bag over to him.

Once the items were exchanged, Race spit into his palm and offered it to the guy.  Without hesitation, the guy spit into his own hand and shook Race’s.  Albert wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“Pleasure doing business,” Race said, formally.

The guy huffed a small laugh, “Okay.”

With that, he stalked back into the auto shop and closed the garage door.  Race turned to Albert, looking pleased.

“That went nice and smooth,” He said.

“Yeah, seemed easy,” Albert agreed.

“I’m hungry,” Race declared, “Let’s head back to The Bowery for lunch, then we can do our next trade.”

“What time’s our next trade?  And where?” Albert asked, following Race away from the autoshop.

“4:00 over in Washington Square Park.  We have a little while.”

The journey back to The Bowery seemed to take less time than the commute to The Bronx.  Race had loosened up significantly and was telling Albert about the other guys in Empire as they entered the theatre.

“So yeah, you met Finch and Crutchie- great guys by the way, absolute geniuses.  Aside from them, there’s Mush and Blink, who trade a lot over in Staten Island.  Blink’s got an eyepatch.  No one knows exactly what happened to his eye, but it definitely involved a knife.  Romeo is a little shit, but a total charmer, which comes in handy during trades.  Jojo’s the handyman- I’ve already told you about him.  Giant teddy bear, that guy.  Love him.  And then you met Jack and I’ve told you about Les and Davey- oh! I want you to meet Davey, he should be around today, one sec,” As they passed the recreation room, Race stuck his head in, “Hey, Mush.”

Albert peeked over Race’s shoulder to see a shorter guy with straight brown hair, playing solitaire.  He looked up upon hearing his name and smiled, “Hey Race,” He made eye contact with Albert and blinked, “You’re Albert, yeah? The dude Race pulled off the street?”

“Indeed, that’s me,” Albert said as Race pulled him into the room.

“Welcome, don’t fuck anything up,” Mush said, placing his cards onto the table and clasping his hands under his chin, “Did you guys need something?”

“Yeah,” Race leaned against the door, “D’you know where Davey is?”

“Uh, I’m not actually sure?  I saw him and Jack leave a little bit ago.  They said they have something they need to take care of over in SoHo.”

Race frowned, “That’s weird, I didn’t think that they had any trades today.”

Albert felt his blood run cold as he processed what Mush had told them, “Oh my god,” he muttered, “Oh my god.”

Race and Mush looked at him, confusion written on their faces, “What?  What’s wrong.”

Albert swallowed and met Race’s stare, panic running down his spine, “Elmer’s girlfriend lives in SoHo.”

“What are you-” Albert didn’t let Race finished as he fled the room, running towards the exit.

“Albert, slow down,” Race called, running after him, “Albert!”

Albert stopped just outside the theatre, turning around to look at Race with wide, terror-stricken eyes, “Race, please, I need to make sure Elmer’s okay.”

“But what does that have to do with his girlfriend-” Understanding dawned on Race’s face, “Wait shit, is he still at his girl’s place?”

“Yes and I think that’s where Jack and Davey are headed.  Come or don’t, I’m going,” Albert ran to the street and hailed a cab, Race climbing in next to him.

“Albert,” Race hissed, “You realize this is gonna make it worse, right?”

“Shut up,” Albert snapped, pulling out his phone and dialing Elmer’s number.  When he didn’t pick up, Albert called Sarah.

“Hello?” Sarah answered from the other side.  She sounded okay, which Albert took  as a good sign.

“Sarah, are you at your place?” Albert asked, urgently.

“No, I’m at the grocery store right now, why? Is everything okay?”

“Is Elmer with you?” Albert pushed.

“No,” Sarah said, slowly, “He was still asleep when I left, so he didn’t come.”

“Shit,” Albert cursed, “Shit shit shit.”

“Albert, what’s-” Sarah started, sounding worried.

“I gotta go, but don’t go home,” Albert demanded, not waiting for a reply as he hung up.  

They arrived in front of Elmer’s apartment complex fifteen minutes later.  Albert almost didn’t want to go inside, too afraid of what he might find.  He forced himself to get out of the cab nonetheless and sprinted in through the front, Race on his heels.  He bypassed the elevator, instead darting towards the door to the stairwell and scaling the three flights of stairs to Sarah’s floor.  When he got to the apartment, he found that it was locked.  

He cursed under his breath, then turned to Race, who was standing nervously a few feet away, “Do you have, like, anything you can use to pick locks?” He asked, impatiently.

Race looked like he was having some sort of internal battle as he reached into his boot and pulled out a knife, handing it to Albert, who stuck his tongue between his teeth as he fiddled with the doorknob.  It took a few minutes, but eventually he got heard the click indicating that he had succeeded.

“I don’t think you should go in there,” Race warned, but Albert ignored him.

The next thirty seconds felt like they went by in slow motion.  Albert opened the door to find Jack and a man in a button down shirt and sweater vest standing on the other side.  The man in the sweater vest was pointing a gun at Elmer, who was cowering against the wall.  Jack looked up as Albert entered the room and opened his mouth to shout something, but was cut off by the sound of a gunshot.  Albert looked over to see Elmer slump onto the floor, blood flowing steadily from his head.  He screamed and staggered backwards into Race, who caught him and lowered him to the floor.  The sound around Albert seemed to muffle.  The world was blurry and he was certain that people were talking around him, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying.

“Albert, Jesus Christ,” He felt someone slap him across the face and he flinched, “Stop screaming or Davey’ll shoot you too,” Race’s voice bled into his consciousness and he was suddenly pulled back to reality.

He closed his mouth, stopping the screams that were escaping him.  Without thinking, he looked at Elmer’s body again and his stomach lurched.  He bent over to the side and threw up, unable to handle the sight any longer.  He heard the door close behind him, then the man in the sweater vest crouched down in front of him.

His eyes were alarmingly calm as he offered a hand to Albert, “You must be Albert.  I’m Davey, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

In the words of @newsies-of-nyc “R.I.P el, sorry bro”

next chapter we find out what ‘Rockefeller’ is oooo race’s dark past

TAG LIST:

@bencookisagod

@we-dont-sell-papes

@suddenly-im-respecsable

@aw-jus-let-em-try

@well-the-kids-do-too

@spot-conlon-king-of-brooklyn

@thatpoorguysheadisspinning

@newsies-of-nyc

@andthewoildwillknow

@the-newsies-justice-for-zas-blog

@sunshine-e-cigarettes

@have-we-got-news-for-you

@musical-shitposts

@thebroadwayaesthetic

[edjectedly]

I Just Wanted a Good Grade

So I know I have another story but @tsfanart‘s post inspired me and you totally need to check it out because it is wonderful, just like the rest of their blog. Also the texting bit is like completely theirs, I just added the very last text from Logan but they came up with that. I really hope they enjoy this, especially considering I did not intend for it to go how it’s going, so without further ado here we go!

Warnings: Failing a test, yelling, minor cursing, If I missed anything let me know

Words: 1517

Parings: Analogical

Tags: @fuzzypurplecloud @emphoenixcat

“Roman Prince!” yelled Virgil as he stared down his friend, focus drifting towards the paper still grasped in his hand, “You had no right going through my stuff!”

Roman raised his hands in surrender, “I know, I know! I’m sorry, but Virgil it really isn’t that big of a deal! Everyone fails test sometimes.”

Virgil growled and yanked the sheet of paper out of his hand, trying to ignore the large red F written on top, “Leave me alone.”

“Virgil wait!” Roman cried, grabbing his shoulder before he could turn around, “I can make this up to you!”

“How?” hissed Virgil, trying to refrain from hitting him.

“I have a friend who is just like a textbook,” Roman spoke quickly, obviously understanding that Virgil was going to kill him if he didn’t get his point across, “I’m positive he could tutor you.”

Virgil glared at him while weighing his option, on one hand someone else would know how stupid he was, but on the other he might not fail, before sighing, “Fine, but I want you to know if I ever find you digging through my stuff again whatever happens to your posters is not my fault.”

With that Virgil stalked off, anger still simmering.

The next day Roman had introduced him to Logan, and Virgil was ready to kill him again. Roman had failed to mention that his friend was so attractive. He was really thankful he had remembered do put on makeup today, his foundation was saving him from complete embarrassment.

“Virgil this is Logan, Logan Virgil,” Roman said gesturing between the two accordingly, as Virgil rose up from his bed.

“Salutation,” Logan said, with a small smile while offering him his hand to shake, “I heard you were having issues in physics?”

Virgil nodded, ignoring the fluttering of his heart, he took Logan’s hand and shook it before quickly stuffing his hand back in his pocket, “Yeah uh, it just doesn’t make any sense.”

“Well hopefully we can fix that,” Logan said calmly, before shooting Roman a glance, “It will be best though if there are no distractions present.”

Roman grinned, “I can take a hint, my beauty wouldn’t allow either of you to focus.”

‘“I was going to say your stench,” Virgil smirked with a shrug, “But whatever helps you sleep at night Princey.”

Logan snorts and Roman chokes, “How rude!”

“Out Princey,” Logan says sternly, smile only slightly undermining the authority in his voice.

“I’m going,” surrenders the regal man heading to the door, “But don’t think for a minute you won’t be paying for that later Hot Topic!”

Virgil rolls his eyes and sits down on his bed as the door clicks, “So…” he says, looking up at his tutor.

“Why don’t we start with what is giving you trouble?” Logan ask, sitting down beside him and opening the textbook, hand brushing against Virgil’s in the process.

Virgil can feel the blush rising back to his cheek as he bites the inside of his cheek, Tonight was going to be a long night.

Virgil groaned, about ready to throw his stupid textbook out the window, causing Roman and their friend, Patton, to look over at him in concern.

“You okay Verge?” ask Roman, pausing in painting Patton’s nails.

“Yeah,” lies Virgil throwing himself back against his bed, “I’m just getting a headache.”

“Here,” smiles Patton standing up and stretching, “Me and Roman can go to my room for a while and when I send him back he will bring you some headache medicine. Is that okay?”

“Thank you Pat, but you guys don’t have to leave,” first Virgil couldn’t do his stupid homework, and now he was running Roman and Patton off, what a wonderful person he was.

“No it’s fine! We don’t mind at all, let’s go Roman.” Patton turns and offers Roman his hand.

“I love how you ask if I’m okay with this,” Roman laughs, standing up with Patton’s help and grabbing the nail polish.

“Shush,” Patton scowls, before a grin replaces the uncharacteristic look, “Let’s go.”

And with that the other two were gone, leaving Virgil to wallow in solitude. Of course he didn’t want them knowing he was still failing in physics, Roman was so excited when he showed him the B he got on his last quiz, but now that they had moved on to the next chapter it made no sense again.

Virgil sighed and picked up his phone, desperate times called for desperate measures. He opened a new message, thankful Logan had made him trade numbers last week, and sent him a message before his nerves overwhelmed him.

To: Logan

Hey, Logan, are you busy?

To: Virgil

No, not particularly. Why, what’s up?

To Logan:

Well I’m still working on that physics homework.

To Logan:

And I HATE having to ask you this again. Like, really hate it. But…

To: Virgil

Hey, it’s no problem. I’ll stop by your room in ten?

To Logan

That would be perfect. Just, please don’t tell anyone about this?

To: Virgil

My lips are metaphorically sealed.

Virgil sighed, letting his phone drop onto his chest. At least now the only person who would know he was a failure was the guy he was crushing on. It could always be worse. With that optimistic thought Virgil sat up, determined to get something done before Logan showed up.

“And that is how you’d get your answer,” explained Logan, pen hovering over the formula on the page.

“Oh!” exclaims Virgil, quickly setting up another problem, “So then if I did this…” he pauses while writing down the next steps.

“Exactly!” Logan cheers, “I told you you could do it.”

“I just have a good teacher,” Virgil shrugged, turning to grin at Logan.

A sudden knock at the door caused both occupants to freeze, “Hey Virgil, I forgot my keys, can you let me in?” called Roman from the other side.

“Shit, shit, shit,” hissed Virgil jumping up and frantically throwing his text book in his bag.

“What are you doing?” whispered Logan, matching Virgil’s volume.

“He can’t know I’m still messing up, he was so proud when I passed my last quiz,” Virgil mumbled, focusing on hiding all proof of homework.

Another knock caused him to jump, “Virgil, you in there?”

“No, no, no,” Virgil groaned, grabbing his hair and tugging, trying to figure out what to do.

“Hey,” Logan said, taking his hands, “While I doubt Roman would think lesser of you for needing extra help, if it would help you feel better I can answer the door and tell him I texted you asking to hang out.”

Virgil eyes widened, “But Roman’s going to think-”

“That we’re dating?” Logan finished, knowing exactly how Roman was, “Then we let him, I mean we could correct him, but honestly it’ll make it easier to help you, since you’re embarrassed. It would give you an excuse to come over to my room more often for us to study and for me to be here to help you.”

“You-You’d do that for me?” Whispers Virgil, trying not to focus on their still clasped hands.

“Why not?” Logan shrugs, a smirk appearing on his face, “You need help, plus I would like to see if we could pull one over on the star actor, and honestly I would not mind spending more time with you.”

Virgil nods feeling his ears turn pink, of course Logan had to be really nice and want to prank Princey too, “Okay go open the door before he leaves.”

Logan nods as Virgil plops back down on the bed, leaning back and biting his lip.

“Salutations Roman,” greets Logan, allowing Princey to taken in his appearance.

On his way over to the door he had loosened his tie and un-tucked his shirt to help sell the act, “Sorry we were a bit- um, preoccupied and did not hear you knocking.”

“Oh my god,” cries Roman, pushing past him and taking in the disheveled looking Virgil with a huge grin on his face, “You didn’t have a headache at all did you? You just wanted to make out with Logan!”

Virgil winces at the accusation, afraid of how this was going to blow up, when Logan clears his throat, “Roman I assure you it was I who asked to come over, Virgil actually does have a heachache.”

Roman’s eyes widen, but the grin doesn’t vanish. “Sorry Jack Smellington,” he apologizes, lowering his volume, while also pulling out a bottle of pills, “Peace offering?”

Virgil takes the offered bottle, shooting Logan a grateful look. Roman wouldn’t bug him about this till tomorrow now, which gave him time to figure out what to do.

“Thanks Ro,” he mumbles.

Roman grins, “Anything for you Verge, but we will be talking about this tomorrow.,” then he turns to Logan, a wide smile on his face, “You and I must talk now, c’mon I’ll walk you back to your room.”

And with that Roman is pulling Logan out of the dorm, leaving Virgil to figure out how he was going to deal with this.

[bringmetolife-pwff]

Part One : Chapter Twenty - Zimbabwe

Evelyn was feeling better now and she was back to her old self.  She was packing for her trip to Zimbabwe with Chelsy and she couldn't be more excited as she had never been to South Africa before.

"I wanted to be the first one to take you to Africa," he told her with a pout.  

"I'm sorry, I didn't realise that you wanted to take me there. . ."

"It's quite alright," he waved a hand of his before grabbing her hand.  "Just as long as you promise me that some day you'll allow me to take you to see my Africa."

"Deal, I'll hold you to that Lieutenant," she grabbed his hand and kissed the palm of it.

"I always keep my word, Stormy," he winked back at her.

Eve felt her heart flutter at his new nickname for her.  Wills watched Eve pack and even helped by giving some helpful tips on outfits she should pack.  He told her to bring a mixture of clothing items ranging from jumpers just in case it rains and shorts as well as cami's.  She was glad that he had already been there as he was able to give her advice on her clothing items and of course she brought a swimsuit as well for when they would go to the beach.

William drove Evelyn to the airport as it was time for her to leave.  As he put the car in park, they snogged a bit and he helped her with taking her luggage out of the car as he had his sunglasses on.  He held her in his arms as her cheek was pressed to his chest.

"I'll miss you," she murmured as she tightened her arms around his waist.

"I'll miss you as well," he agreed with her as he tilted her face to look up at him.  He softly strokes her cheek with his thumb as he leans down and presses his lips to hers.  She smiles into the kiss, savouring the feeling of being with him before she was without him for almost two weeks.  

"Have fun, all right?" He told her even though he would miss her, especially since he had some off time from the military.

"I will," she smiled at him.  "I'll call you when I land," knowing how he would freak out if she didn't.  

He was always so protective of her and her security.  Wanting to make sure she was as safe as possible, if he had any control of it.  She remembered her talk with him the night before as they lay in her bed.

"Have you thought about when we want to go public?" Evelyn asked him as she lay in his arms and their legs were tangled together.  

"Yes and no," William told her as he thought about his next words carefully.  I would like us to have more time alone before we do.  More time to get to know each other and see if this is what you really want and to see how well we progress over the next months or so.  Would you be okay with that?"

"Yes, thank God," she breathed a sigh of relief, giggling slightly as her boyfriend sat up on his forearm and looked at her.

"What?  Were you nervous or something?" He teased lightly, laughing with her.

"God, yes."

"Really?  Why?" He asked shocked.

Eve sat up as well and took his large hand in her small hand.

"Because, you're you and I'm me.  I'm used to the spotlight now but growing up I always struggled with it.  I know that it will be different than my last relationship.  I know that the public will scrutinize the fact that I've been engaged before and possibly not be okay with it.  I also know that there will be a hell of a lot more paparazzi in our lives.  I've just never had to deal with it on that kind of an intense level before."

"I know," he tucks a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear.  "That's what I'm most nervous about as well.  Because unlike my last relationship, we don't have the protection of the university to protect us from all of the intrusion.  I promise you this though, when the time does come for us to come out as a couple, I would like it to be on our own time.  That way we have the control, yeah?  What do you think about that?"

"I think," she took a deep breath letting it out as she traced circles on the palm of his hand making him shiver slightly.  "That sounds like a great plan."

"Yeah?" He raised his eyebrows as the wrinkles in his forehead increased  due to the expression.

"Yes," she exclaimed laughing and leaning in to her boyfriend to kiss him.  

His hand by instinct wrapped around her waist bringing her closer as the kiss got more heated and she landed back on the mattress again with him hovering above her.

*

"Welcome to Zimbabwe," Chelsy said to her friend as she spread her arms out a bit wider for emphasis.

"Oh wow," Eve exclaimed.  "It's beautiful Chels.  I'm so excited to explore!"

The two girls were going to spend their time at Chelsy's parents home instead of booking a room  at a hotel.  That way Evelyn also got a real sense of what Chelsy's life was like in Zimbabwe.  Chelsy wanted to show Evelyn all of her favourite spots and where show her the heart of her Zimbabwe.  The part that you wouldn't get to see if you were a tourist.  

"My parents should be here soon," Chelsy told her good friend.  

She was glad that she was close with Evelyn.  When William dated Kate they never got really close.  It felt nice to actually be close with someone else who was in the same boat as her.  

"What are their names again?" Eve asked as her eyebrows furrowed.

"Beverley and Charles," she nodded her head in confirmation.  "They're literally the best.  You'll love them!  I have a brother too, but he won't be here."

Growing up in Zimbabwe it gave Chelsy a different outlook on life.  She was able to live in a country that only most people dreamed of visiting for a holiday.  She never took life in Zimbabwe for granted and it was one of the many things her and Harry had in common.  

Chelsy was excited for this holiday and to be home again.

They were only two hours ahead of England, and decided to send her boyfriend a text that she made it there safely.  She was absolutely gutted when she found out that Wills would be home while she was away.  But she had made a commitment to Chelsy already and she was really excited to see Zimbabwe with her good friend.  

"Oh there they are," Chelsy pointed to the jeep as it made a stop on the side of the road for them and a blonde woman came out, that must be her mum.  

Chelsy let out a loud shriek of excitement and immediately went to hug her mum as Eve stayed behind a bit, letting the mum and daughter have their moment.  

"Mum, this is my good friend Evelyn.  Evelyn this is my mum, Beverley," Chelsy introduces the two.

"It's so nice to finally meet you," Beverley gushes to the young blonde.

"It's nice to finally meet you as well," Eve greets Chelsy's mum with a smile as Beverley pulls her in for a hug.  "I've heard so much about you."

"Thank you for letting me stay at your place while we're here," Eve told Beverley.

"It's no problem at all.  It's our pleasure.  You can call me Bev for short if you please."

*

Evelyn had slept in through almost half the morning unfortunately, due to jet leg and the long flight.  Unfortunately, Eve was never one to be able to sleep all through out long flights, only being able to get an hour or two of sleep at most.  Evelyn had texted William when they had landed and let him know that she missed him but that she would be taking loads of pictures to document the holiday.

She had decided to unplug from work and was leaving everything in her assistant, Samantha's hands.  

Rummaging through her luggage, she got out some pants and a rose gold cami as well as some flip flops.  It was sunny today with a slight wind making it slightly chilly.  She brought her jumper as well just in case she got cold through out the day.  Eve had put on minimal makeup and brought her purse with her belongings in it as well as her favourite polaroid camera that she can't travel without.

"How are you girls doing?" Bev asked Chelsy and Eve.

"We're doing good. Thanks again for letting me stay here," Eve thanked Chelsy's mum.

Beverley waved her hand.

"Oh darling, it's the least we could do. We love having both of you here. So, what are the plans for today?"

"Well, I was going to take Evelyn down to that little market place we shop at often. And then to our favourite spot that only locals go."

"When you go to the market place can you pick up some more of those spices I love? Oh maybe some flowers if you see any. I'll give you money."

"It's alright, mum. I can pay for them. I'll get them for you."

Chelsy and her family always loved fresh food and spices. Whenever they went to the market place Beverley always got her favourite spices that were cloves, pepper, ginger, garlic and shichimi.  The girls also bought some fresh fruit and a beautiful bouquet of flowers for the home as they walked down the dirt road.  Their would be street sellers lined along the whole road with their own "shops" selling whatever they had.  

"Oh pretty lady, would you like to try some alcohol?" A man came up to Evelyn in particular.

"What is it?" Eve asked curious.

"Coco loco," he exclaims happily.  "Bols banana, malibu and pineapple juice."

"It's free?" Eve questions.

"Free!  Free sample."

"Is it safe?" Eve murmured to Chelsy, knowing she wouldn't normally take free alcohol from people in a foreign place she had never been before.

"Completely!  I trust them.  How have you been Dakarai?" Chelsy greeted the man she had grown to know over the years.

"Alright and you?"

"Great.  This is my good friend Evelyn.  Evelyn this is Dakarai.  He's the owner of the restaurant owner of Mangwanani which means good morning in shona."

"It's nice to meet you," Eve greeted him with a smile.

"You as well.  Any friend of Chelsy's is a friend of ours.  Please have a sample of the Coco loco and any others you wish to try.  If you are interested in them we do sell them over there."

"Thank you, I'll have one," Eve said giving in and giving one to Chelsy as well.

They both drank the sample of the alcohol tipping their heads back.  Eve could feel the slight burn of the alcohol hit the back of her throat but she could also taste the sweetness as she loved the drink.

"That's so good," Eve said to her friend.

"Right?"  Chelsy laughed.  "Want to look in their shop?"

"Yes."

*

"You know, I'm glad we're friends," Chelsy told Evelyn with a smile on her face as she took her hand, then letting go just as quick.  "Truthfully, I was never close with Kate and it just made things awkward."

"What was she like?" Eve asked curious.

Evelyn was always curious about Kate and her relationship with the others when she started dating William.  She never felt as though she could ask Wills though as she wasn't sure if it was a sensitive topic or not and he didn't ask about her ex unless she spoke of him.  But she didn't like talking about him as she didn't really like to live in the past with him.

"She was all right," Chelsy shrugged her shoulders.  "A bit quiet though and never really tried to get to know me like you have.  She was more reserved, which is fine.  But it also made things very awkward at events or family get-togethers.  I tried to get along with her - I really did.  But I was done after Kate wouldn't make half of the effort.  Instead, I just focused on my relationship with Harry and the rest of family."

Evelyn nodded her head, listening to her intently.  

"Can I ask what it was like for you when you and Harry first came out as a couple?" she asked quietly.  

This was what Eve was most nervous for.  She and Wills weren't hiding it from everyone or the press but they wanted be sure about each other before it was too early.  Eve had met his family and even the Queen before they were technically dating, but not since they were official, although she would get together with Harry and his friends quite often.

"It was daunting," Chelsy's shoulders shivered slightly due to the fear.  "I mean - I'm still young.  I was nineteen when I began dating him and I wasn't used to spotlight like you are.  I'm still not.  There are some days when I feel very alone like I'm the only one whose going through this because no one else besides family or close friends reach out to you.  There are days where I have more than an hour conversation on the mobile with Harry.  Him having to reassure me and why we're dating.  I feel terrible for having my doubts but I don't like being in the spotlight and I just want it to be me and him as Harry not Prince Harry.  I'm sorry if I'm scaring you with my information but I just think you need to know what it could be like.  Luckily for you though, you're used to it.  What was it like for you?" she asked as she ate some papaya.

Evelyn paused before gathering her words wisely.

"Believe me, I'm still not really used to it.  I don't really know why the media or normal people are interested in me or who I date because I'm not famous.  I'm a fashion designer.  It's my dad who is famous.  I just so happened to be his daughter.  It's hard though because it's like people think they have this perception of who you are and what you are like and when you're trying to grow up it does get very lonely to make friends.  I was never very popular in school, despite what the tabloids say."

"Do you mind if I ask when you and William will come out as a couple?" The Zimbabwe beauty asked her as she tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.

"I'm not sure," Eve shrugged her shoulders.  "I know though that when we do come out we want it to be on our terms.  Whenever that may be.  We want to be in control."

[mikamema]

I want to speak to Kafka

I’m reading again.

A friend of mine (hi bernienie!), has been reading a lot this quarantine and I thought maybe I should too. With my–surprisingly–current disinterest with Netflix or any activity that entails mindlessly scrolling on and staring at glass, perhaps now is a good time than any other. I’ve had this book for years, I bought my secondhand “Kafka on the Shore” at a quaint bookshop the last time we were at Singapore. That trip, sometime 4-5 years ago, I traveled to an overseas country alone for the first time to meet my father where he used to work. Unrelated, but it feels right to mention given the fact that I’m about to talk about a Murakami novel.

I’m reading again. I say this again because it’s been ashamedly years and years ever since I finished a book, much more read outside of school and work, and it feels–I am about to say nice, but right, seems to be the better word. Reading, after all, has always been my first love. Way before dance and theatre, books, by way of my mother, have always been the first that welcomed and introduced me to the world.

Even then, I felt myself tiptoeing around having to read again, all the more fiction as odd and out worldly as that of Murakami’s. I was afraid my rekindled interest in this hobby is just a phase (I still am) and it worries me that the moment I lose interest, again, it’ll be years until it returns. This is why, for the first few pages, my guard was up. Murakami, by way of his characters, loves to meander, and you wonder what he means, what it’s for, and where it’s meant to lead you, but as early as less than half of the book, you realize that the characters have no idea either. I think this is where Murakami loses some of his readers, and almost lost me. I read my first Murakami novel 5 years ago, “Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage”, and I remember flipping to the last page in shock. I really thought I had another chapter to go until the end. That was it? I thought. What was that for? Yet I say this with awe, admiration, wonder, and melancholy. 

Many of us enter the world of fiction through whatever medium with a timed tolerance for ambiguity or uncertainty. We expect and accept them for only as far as it takes to introduce and create conflict, but never near or beyond the end or the supposed resolution. For the most part, we consume fiction to escape our seemingly unceasing realities, so what is there to appreciate in texts the only seek to show us the same? But in Murakami’s oddest way, this, I realize, is what captivates me. The usual query of “what happens next?” surprisingly gives me more comfort than doubt and discouragement, as I surmise that Kafka and Nakata is asking the same question in their universe way beyond what is tangible for me on paper, and this is what pulls me in. Because in this running from and towards the unknown, despite the isolation and occasional desolation, what comes in between and after are the characters’--by way of Murakami’s--wisdom.

I’m the type of reader who marks pages through dogears, and if a quote sticks with me I underline it with anything nearby. I apply heavy hands on my books, and I like to excuse this by thinking that this is how I express my care and gratitude for it. I also like to think that the ruggedness it dons in the long run mirrors the journey I take with it. And with my secondhand Kafka, within its already worn out body are the dogears I fold for pages with lines that I want to remember. Here are some of them. They’re a lot, I realize, and I’m only halfway through. At almost every other page, the characters teach me something new. Sometimes, they also open doors to questions or thoughts in my mind that I’ve set aside or forgotten even existed. 

I encountered this last one just today. Last night, in the spectrum of well to melancholy, I was floating just a little beyond the halfway point to the latter. I read Kafka most of the afternoon and had a feeling it was what brought me there. Night came and I surprised myself by choosing to continue Kafka over watching Mindhunter with Mama because I wanted to hover over the same spot just for a little longer. I woke up today at 12 noon with such emotion having faded away, but reading about America’s racism brought me back to that halfway point and pushed me even further. I cry over this black woman’s cries of “No Justice, No Peace”, and I find myself turning to Kafka for escape and a little bit of comfort if possible. Magically, I wasn’t met with both, but more. 

“Kafka, in everybody’s life there’s a point of no return. And in a few cases, a point where you can’t go forward anymore. And when we reach that point, all we can do is quietly accept the fact. That’s how we survive.” 

I haven’t even processed what it meant but I already found myself crying again. Are we in this point of no return? I ask myself then. Why the desire to turn to a work of Murakami for escape? Much less comfort? I ask myself now. 

“When someone is trying very hard to get something, they don’t. And when they’re running away from something as hard as they can, it usually catches up with them. I’m generalizing of course.” “If you generalize about me then, what’s in my future? If I’m seeking and running at the same time.” “That’s a tough one,” Oshima says, and smiles. A moment passes before he goes on. “If I had to say anything it’d be this: Whatever it is you’re seeking won’t come in the form you’re expecting.” 

I wanted to run from the world’s pains, to seek comfort and escape all at the same time, and indeed, it came in the form I least expected. I wasn’t able to escape reality per se, nor was I comforted by what I just read, but I found a sense of stability. A grounding in the truth with a sensation that I find could be a cousin of comfort. Escape, in a way implies some sort of cowardice, and comfort, at this time is almost improbable. Yet in Kafka on the Shore, I unexpectedly found steady hands that held me safe and still. In Oshima, I heard a voice that reminded me of what is more necessary than escape and comfort--truth. And this is a nudge I didn’t know I needed to keep me going.

Last night, after switching off my reading light, bringing my comforter over me, and priming myself to sleep, like a door that naturally, slowly, sways to a close and kisses the hinges of its doorway, it dawned on me how film, theatre, or any other animate and visual form of medium will always be somewhat inferior to books as a means to escape. In any of the former, complete escape is impossible because what you see is still human. Although the mind has the temporary power to suspend its disbelief, the eye, I don’t think can ever deny that it is seeing humans, actors, dimensional objects that still have relations and associations beyond the world of whatever film or play is being consumed, deeming true escape from one’s reality impossible. 

But words, literature, are an entirely different kind of entity. Entity, being the primest word. Christian Benitez, a poet, all around writer and Filipino professor I adore and admire, has always believed and said that words are alive, tangible, thus, entities. I thought I understood part of what he means, but I also thought I’d probably never truly understand it in its fullest. But I think I see it now (although still partly). Words are as alive, true, and real as anything tangible. The persons, voices, sounds, images, places, sensations, and emotions it creates in our imaginations are as valid and as real as the world we live in. Even more real, perhaps. This could be why escape done by means of language will always be more effective than that of the visual. 

Laging nakakakapit ang mga imahe sa mga mundong nagagalawan at ginagalawan natin, ang mga salita, hindi. Matapos itong isulat at palayain sa mundo, “may sariling buhay na ito,” ika-nga ni Benitez. May sariling mundo ang mga salita, na kasing buhay at marahil mas buhay pa nga sa atin.

To reading more, hopefully beyond this quarantine. To reading for more than escape, but to become closer to the truth, regardless of both the comfort and discomfort.

[mbaljeetsingh]

How to build and deploy your own personal portfolio site

Hello! My name is Kevin Powell. I love to teach people how to build the web and how to make it look good while they’re at it.

I’m excited to announce that I’ve just launched a free course that teaches you to create your very own fully responsive portfolio website.

After you’ve finished this course you will have a neat-looking portfolio site that will help you land job interviews and freelance gigs. It’s also a cool thing to show to your friends and family.

We’re going to build the portfolio using Scrimba’s interactive code-learning platform, and then deploy it using DigitalOcean’s cloud services.

Also, DigitalOcean has been generous to give everyone who enrolls a free credit, so it won’t cost you anything to get it up and running.

This post is a breakdown of the course itself, giving you an idea of what's included in all the lessons. If you like what you see, make sure to check it out over on Scrimba!

Lesson 1: Introduction

In the first lesson, you’ll get an overview of the course so that you know what to expect, what you should know before taking it, and what you’ll end up with once you're finished. I also give you a quick intro to myself.

Lesson 2: Setting things up - HTML

In part two, I’m going to show you around in the Scrimba environment and we’ll also set up the project.

All the images are supplied, so you won’t need to worry about looking for the perfect photo just yet. We can focus on building the portfolio!

Don’t forget that you can access everything you need from text and colors to fonts and much more at our dedicated design page.

Lesson 3: The header area - HTML

It’s finally time to start building out the portfolio. In this lecture, we will create the header section. We will brush up on the BEM methodology for setting class names in CSS, and I think you’ll find that this makes the navigation simple and straightforward to create.

Lesson 4: Intro section

Next up is the Intro section of the portfolio. This is where we will introduce ourselves and put a picture of ourselves.

In the end, we add a section about the main skills/services we can do. For the moment we can just fill it all in with “Lorem ipsum” text as a placeholder, until you're ready to fill it in with your own text.

In this chapter, we’re finishing off the rest of our HTML with the last 3 sections: About me, where we’re going to introduce ourselves in greater detail; Work, where we’re going to add some of our portfolio examples, and our footer.

Footers are ideal for linking to email addresses and I will show you how to do that with an <a> tag. We can also add our social media links there too.

For now, it all looks a bit raw and all the CSS fun is ahead of us.

Lesson 6: Setting up the custom properties and general styles

Alright, time to get make that page look amazing!

In this part, we’re going to learn how to add custom properties.

While setting up CSS variables can take some time, it really pays off as the site comes together. They're also perfect for allowing you to customize the site's colors and fonts in just a few seconds, which I take a look at how to do once we wrap up the site.

Lesson 7: Styling the titles and subtitles

Having set all the needed typography, I will walk you through the subtitles of designing and styling the titles and subtitles in our sections.

Lesson 8: Setting up the intro section

Over the next few chapters it’s going to be quite hands-on, so no worries if you feel like rewatching the screencasts a couple of times.

We're keeping everything responsive, using CSS Grid and taking a little dive into using em units as well.

This is the perfect example where CSS Grid shines through and we’re going to learn how to use properties like grid-column-gap, grid-template-areas and grid-template-columns.

Lesson 9: Styling the services section

To add a little bit of interest, I look at how we can add a background-image to this section of the site. It's a nice way to break up the second and avoid just having solid color backgrounds everywhere, and I also look at how you could use background-blend-mode to change the color of the image to help keep the look of your site consistent.

As a bonus, we’re also going to learn how to style out buttons when they are hovered over or selected when we tab through the page.

Lesson 10: The About me section

Great progress! So this is the all-important About me section. This one is pretty similar to the Intro because we’re going to use CSS Grid, but move the picture to the right side and find a useful example for CSS fr unit.

Lesson 11: The portfolio

In this screencast, I will show how to build our portfolio section to display some of our great work. And we’re even going to learn how to use cubic-bezier() to a great and impressive effect with some hover styling!

Lesson 12: Adding the social icons with Font Awesome

This cast will be sweet and short, so you can rest a bit and learn some quick tips and tricks.

Adding social media links with Font Awesome icons is a breeze. We can do it with an <i> tag and then adding a class name of an icon you wish to add.

As an example, here’s how to add an icon for GitHub once you have Font Awesome linked in your markup.

<i class="fab fa-github"></i>

While the icons are in place, we do need at add more styling here to get them to be set up the way we need them to be.

With a little use of flexbox and removing the styling from the list with list-style: none it's relatively straight forward.

Lesson 14: Setting up the navigation styles

We have left the navigation to the last because very often it’s one of those simple things that can take the longest to set up and do correctly.

Once completed, the navigation will be off-screen, but slide in when a user clicks on the hamburger icon. The first step though, is to get it styled the way we want it to look, then we can worry about actually making it work!

Lesson 14: Creating the hamburger

In this screencast, you’ll learn how to add a hamburger menu to transition to the navigation view. It’s not an icon or an svg, but pure CSS.

We’re going to have a chance practice ::before and ::after pseudo-selectors, transition, and, since it's not a link but a button, we also need to define the different cursor when we hover over the hamburger icon to indicate that it can be clicked with cursor: pointer.

Lesson 15: Adding the JS

With a little bit of JavaScript, I will walk you through the implementation of a really nice and smooth transition from our main screen to the navigation window on click of the hamburger menu.

I also take a look at how we can add in smooth-scrolling with CSS only by using scroll-behavior: smooth. Yes, it really is that simple! It also makes a great tweet for Today I Learned (TIL). Feel free to send you TILs to @scrimba and I’m sure they will be really happy to retweet them!

Lesson 16: Creating the portfolio item page

With the homepage wrapped up, it's time to work on a template portfolio page that can be used to give more details on each of the projects that you are putting in your portfolio.

We're also going to learn how to link it seamlessly with our main page for a nice user experience.

Lesson 17: Customizing your page

This is where the magic of CSS custom properties comes in!

In this video I look at how we can customize the custom properties that we set up to change the color scheme of your site within seconds, and how we can update the fonts quickly and easily as well in order to make the site your own!

Lesson 18: DigitalOcean Droplets - What they are and how to set one up

In this screencast, we're going to explore DigitalOcean droplets. They are Linux-based virtual machines and that each droplet is a new server you can use.

It can seem daunting, but they are super easy to set up, very customizable and come with a lot of useful features, like a firewall automatically.

I'll talk you through every single step of the way so that you know exactly how to set a droplet up.

Lesson 19: DigitalOcean Droplets - Uploading files via FTP

To finish the whole process off, let me show you how we can upload our portfolio to the droplet we've created in the previous chapter and now it's online for others to see!

Lesson 20: Wrap up

And that's it! Your next step can be to make this page all about you, add all the relevant examples, tell us about you and make it live in a DigitalOcean droplet.

Once you've put yours together and got it online, please share your portfolio with Me and the team at Scrimba! You can find us at @KevinJPowell and @scrimba on Twitter, and we would be really happy to share what you're up to!

Check out the full course

Remember, this course is completely free. Head on over to Scrimba now and you can follow along with it and build out a fantastic looking site!

via freeCodeCamp.org https://ift.tt/2QwcP6z

[anavoliselenu]

claim me chapter 14

“I heard through the grapevine that you were working on something similar at C-Squared,” he says, referring to Carl’s company.

“I was,” I say, then decide to take the plunge and tell him the truth about what happened. It pisses me off, but it’s not as if I’m the one who did anything wrong. “I was on the team that pitched the C-Squared product to Justin.”

“Is that how you two met?”

“No,” I say. “We actually met years ago in Texas. We reconnected at one of Evelyn’s parties.” I don’t mention that Carl had sent me into the party with the specific goal of attracting the attention of Justin Stark. That had been my first clue that Carl was an asshole. And many more clues followed in quick succession. “At any rate, the pitch went great, but Justin declined to invest because he knew about this Israeli product, though he didn’t say his reason at the time. By then, he and I had gone out.” Once again, my cheeks heat, because “gone out” doesn’t even begin to describe the things I had done with Justin.

Bruce, thankfully, doesn’t appear to notice my blush. “And Carl blamed you.”

“And fired me,” I say with a thin smile. “He’s not high up on my favorite people list.”

“To be honest, Carl Rosenfeld isn’t high on anyone’s favorite people list.”

I smile, immediately more at ease.

A moment later, Cindy steps into my office with an envelope from a local messenger company. There is no address. I, of course, am certain it’s from Justin. Considering the way Cindy hovers by my desk, she must think the same thing, and she’s curious about what the world’s sexiest billionaire sends to his girlfriend.

I’m curious, too. But since this is Justin we’re talking about, I’m not opening it with Bruce and Cindy standing there. I set it firmly on the corner of my desk right next to where I have put the framed picture of Justin and me. “Insurance paperwork,” I say nonchalantly, before turning back to Bruce and rattling off the first relevant thing I can think of about the Suncoast meeting last week.

Finally they are both out of my office, leaving me to, supposedly, settle in to work. I immediately reach for the envelope.

I open it, peek inside, and find my own pink scarf.

Okay …

Then again, at least now I have an excuse to call him. Not that I actually need an excuse.

Unfortunately, I only get his voice mail. “Hey,” I say. “It’s me. Thanks so much for the scarf. It suits me perfectly. How on earth did you know? I had a great time yesterday,” I add, then hesitate a moment before continuing. “And I thought you might want to know—I’m wearing a denim skirt, a purple T-shirt under a denim jacket, and absolutely nothing else.”

I’m grinning when I end the call, and it takes some doing to focus on the specs that I pull up on the laptop I’ve been issued by Innovative. After a while, though, I get into a groove, and it’s not until one of the guys on my team pokes his head in my door that I realize I’ve been engrossed for hours.

“I’m going down to grab a sandwich,” he says. “Want anything?”

“Alex, right?”

He nods.

“Mind if I tag along?”

“Oh. Well, sure. Okay. Yeah. I mean, I’m just gonna get something downstairs and bring it back.”

“Sounds perfect to me.” I grab my purse and follow him to the elevator. He’s tall and so skinny that I’m guessing I have at least ten pounds on him. His hair is cut short, almost into a military buzz, and he’s wearing a T-shirt announcing that Pluto is still a planet. On that, I agree wholeheartedly, and I tell him so.

It is as if I have opened the conversational floodgates. By the time we reach the lobby, I know everything about him except his Social Security number and have been invited to join his World of Warcraft guild anytime.

“So you’re dating Justin Stark,” he adds, as we cross the lobby to the small cafeteria. “That’s cool.”

“I think so,” I say politely, but I can’t help but cringe a little. I am starting to realize that by being Justin’s girlfriend I have taken on more than just Justin. I have parked myself under a microscope. For someone who has lived most of her life behind a mask of polite indifference, it is not the most comfortable place to be.

“Yeah, so the sandwiches here are pretty good,” Alex says, and I am grateful for the change of subject. “The pizza kind of sucks, though.”

“Salads?”

“Beats me,” he says. “I don’t do rabbit food. Meet you back here?”

I nod, then head toward the rabbit food area. I’m waiting for the server to put together a Cobb salad for me when a familiar-looking Asian woman steps into line behind me. I’m trying to place where I’ve seen her before when she points at me and says, “Innovative, right? You’re the new girl.”

“Selena Fairchild,” I confirm. “I’m sorry, I’ve been introduced to about a million people, at least it feels that way. I don’t remember your name.”

“No, no, we haven’t met. I work in the building. Lisa Reynolds. I’m a business consultant, and I’ve known Bruce for years.”

I suddenly remember where I’ve seen her. “You were in the lobby on Friday,” I say. “At one of the tables.”

“I usually am at least once a day. I can’t live without coffee, and I like to get out of the office. Here,” she adds, then digs in her purse for a business card. “If you ever want to sneak downstairs for a latte, give me a shout.”

“Thanks,” I say, genuinely pleased. I haven’t met that many people since I moved to Los Angeles, and I’m psyched to have a potential friend in the building.

I promise Lisa I’ll give her a call this week, then head upstairs with Alex. I want to get back to work, but I also know I should get to know my team. I suggest that we eat in the break room, but I have to confess that I am relieved when he tells me that he’s going to eat at his desk so that he can play WoW.

I’ve finished the salad and am deep into an analysis of some troublesome code when Justin calls. “Hey,” I say. “Did you see that article in Tech World?”

“Talking shop, Ms. Fairchild?”

I laugh. “What else should I talk about? The scarf you sent me? Your skill at picking out gifts has become a little rusty, but I guess there is some logic. If I already own it, I probably already like it.”

“You make a good point,” he says. “I’ll keep that in mind for future gifts, too. At the moment, though, I was hoping to talk about the very interesting piece of correspondence I received this morning.”

For a moment, I have no idea what he could be talking about. Then I remember the drive in the Bentley. Oh my.

“Are you in an office or a cubicle?” he asks.

“An office,” I say. I swallow, recalling all the things I wrote in that letter.

“In that case, my dear Ms. Fairchild, I think you should close your door. For that matter, I think you should lock it.”

“Justin, I’m at work,” I protest, but I do as he says.

“What a coincidence. So am I. Imagine my surprise as I’m reviewing my morning mail. Requests to speak at business conferences. Investment opportunities. Real estate proposals. All intriguing opportunities, but none so enticing as what I find when I open a simple letter sent on my very own stationery.”

“Justin …”

“You have a way with words, Ms. Fairchild. I was quite relieved that my assistant was at her desk when I read your letter. I don’t know that I would have been able to hide my erection. You really are quite a little minx.”

My brows lift. “A minx?”

“I can still remember the sound of your voice,” he quotes, “so smooth I almost came just from the sound of it. And the cool leather against the hot skin of my ass. Even then, I wanted your hands on me, your cock inside me. I barely knew you, and yet I wanted to submit to you utterly.” He says, “Yes, I think minx is a very accurate description.”

“Oh.” Hearing my own words read back to me, I have to silently agree. “I was inspired.”

“I’m very glad to hear it. When I ran across the scarf in the apartment this morning it reminded me of you, and after I got your letter, I thought that I should return it right away. You see, we didn’t really let that scarf live up to its potential.”

“We didn’t?” My mouth is dry.

“No,” he says, softly. “But I intend to make up for that. There are a lot of things one can do with a scarf. A lot of things one can do with fringe. The delicate brush over your erect nipple. A teasing stroke over your hot cunt. I promise you that we’ll fully explore all of the various possibilities.”

“Um.” I swallow.

“Wear it today and think about what I’ll do with it tonight.”

“Tonight?” I ask, as I drape the scarf around my neck.

Justin laughs. “I’ll pick you up at seven,” he says. “I’ll have you naked by eight.”

I float through the rest of the afternoon, though I do manage to partition off my Justin thoughts so that I manage to accomplish some work. My head is down as I step off the elevator at the end of the day. I’m reading a text from Jamie detailing exactly how amazing Raine is, so I don’t notice Carl until he steps right in front of me.

“Selena.”

I freeze, momentarily caught off guard. Then I regain my senses and start walking again. “We don’t have anything to say to each other.”

“Wait,” he calls. “Please.”

Maybe it’s the “please,” but I pause just before the exit. I don’t turn around, but I hear him hurrying up behind me. “Two minutes,” I say, then step out the door and wait under the building awning.

He slides in with the exiting crowd and joins me outside. I don’t say anything. I just stand there, my face blank, my arms crossed over my chest.

He has a paper tucked under his arm, and he holds it out to me as if it’s an apology. I don’t take it, but I glance down and see that it is the same issue of Tech World that Bruce brought into my office earlier. I meet Carl’s eyes, and remain silent.

“Dammit, Selena, I didn’t know there was any other company in that market.”

“What is it you want, Carl?” My voice is icy.

“I just—well, I may have acted rashly.”

Ya think? I want to shout the words and slap his face. With effort, I remain quietly stoic.

“It’s just that, I thought you were fucking Stark.”

I am on the verge of boiling now, and I want nothing more than to get away from this toxic little man. But I force myself to conjure a thin smile as I lift my chin just slightly. “I am.”

Carl actually looks embarrassed. “Right, right. I mean, yeah, I’ve seen the pictures of you two and all that. It’s just that, well, I thought you had a fight. Or that maybe Stark thought that you and I had a thing going.”

“I promise you he thinks much more highly of me than that.”

“Dammit, Selena, I’m trying to apologize here.”

“Is that what this is about?” I’m genuinely surprised.

“I fucked up, okay? I was stupid and I blew the whole thing out of proportion.” He runs his fingers through his hair, making it stand on end and giving him an even more harried appearance. “I acted rashly, and I’m sorry.”

I cock my head, trying to hear the part that he’s not saying. “We’re talking about more than firing me, aren’t we?” My skin prickles with worry. “What did you do, Carl?”

“Oh, hell. Other shit. You know.”

“I don’t know,” I say. “All you said was that you were going to fuck Justin over. So what did you do?” My left hand is closed into a tight fist, my nails biting into my palm. It is only through a supreme force of will that I am remaining calm. “Dammit, Carl. What other shit are you talking about?”

He stays silent, his expression unreadable.

“For Christ’s sake, Carl, why did you come here in the first place?”

He sucks in a gulp of air. “You know how Stark paid Padgett off, right? And now Padgett has to keep his mouth shut.”

“How do you know that?” Eric Padgett was threatening to go public with his theory that Justin had something to do with his sister’s death, and Justin actually wrote a check to shut the worm up. It’s not something I like to think about. More than that, the terms of the settlement were supposed to be confidential.

“I know a lot of things. Padgett did a lot of talking before he got Stark’s money. And most of his talking was to other people with an ax to grind against Stark. Trust me when I say that I realized pretty fast that Padgett was the least of Stark’s worries. There are a lot of people who want to see the shit fly.”

“You included,” I snap.

“Not me. Not anymore. That’s why I’m here. I get it. I got the whole thing wrong and I screwed Justin and I screwed you. I’m saying I’m not the only one.”

“Who, then? And what shit?”

He shakes his head. “Just tell Stark that he may not see this one coming.” He makes a rough noise in his throat. “I was blown away when I learned who Padgett had lined up with an ax to grind against your boyfriend.”

I stand very still. He’s scaring me more than he probably knows. “You won’t tell me who?”

“I’ve said everything I’m going to. I’ve played my part, and now I’m getting out of this mess. Whatever happens isn’t coming from me, I can promise you that.”

“Then why did you come here at all?”

“Because telling you is like telling Stark. It’s a small world, and I burned a bridge I shouldn’t have.”

“And you think this is going to fix it?”

“No, but I think it’s a start.” He meets my eyes. “Tell Stark to watch his back.”

“I’ll tell him,” I say, proud of myself for keeping my voice from shaking. “But he always does.”

18

I am actually wishing for the paparazzi as I walk toward my car. At least then I could be pissed off at them instead of worried for Justin.

The second I get in my car, I reach into my glove compartment for my phone charger so that I can call Justin, but the damn thing isn’t there. I forgot to put one in my briefcase, so my phone hasn’t charged at all today, and it’s almost dead. I dial anyway, figuring I can talk fast, and am relieved when Justin picks up immediately.

“I ran into Carl,” I say without preamble.

“Ran into him?” His voice is low and measured and very, very ominous.

“As in he came to Innovative and waited for me in the lobby.”

“Are you okay? What did he do?”

“I’m fine,” I assure him, because I can hear both the worry and the temper. “He wanted me to tell you to watch your back.”

“Did he? Tell me everything he said, exactly how he said it.”

I comply, relating the conversation in as much detail as I can manage.

“And he wouldn’t tell you any more?”

“No,” I say. “Do you have any idea what he’s talking about?”

I hold my breath, wondering if Justin will cite the thing going on in Germany. Or the tennis center. Or even the Eric Padgett settlement. There are so many things that this could be about, and though I haven’t got a clue, I am certain that Justin does.

But when he speaks, he tells me nothing. “I think this is Carl’s way of blowing smoke.”

“Why would he do that?” I ask.

“You said he wants to rebuild burned bridges. What better way to do that than to warn me about some upcoming danger?”

“Because there’s always some sort of danger for a man like you,” I say, picking up the direction of his thoughts.

“An angry competitor. A fired employee. A stolen patent. And then Carl comes along and tells me to be on guard, and when I next notice some nefarious deed, I will think, oh, isn’t it lucky that Carl warned me. I guess the little prick isn’t so bad after all.”

I laugh, because Carl is a little prick and nothing is going to change that. But the laughter doesn’t erase my worry. “So you’re really not worried?”

“I make it a point not to worry,” Justin says. “There’s no profit in it.”

“Justin—”

“Stop,” he says gently.

“Stop what?”

“Stop worrying about me. You’re wasting precious energy.”

“What else am I going to do with it?” I ask airily. “It’s not as if you’re here beside me.”

He laughs. “Good girl,” he says. “Where are you?”

“The parking lot. I’m going to hit the grocery store and go home.”

“Good. Can you do me a favor and pick up some—”

And that is when my phone decides to die. I curse it, but at least I got to talk to him about Carl.

Even though Justin isn’t troubled, I am, and it stays on my mind as I poke through Ralph’s, grabbing coffee and ice cream and other staples of living. I’m sure I’m forgetting something, but as my list is on my dead phone, I’ll just have to wing it.

I end up with two plastic bags full of various essentials, and after I park my car at the condo, I leave the parking area and follow the sidewalk around to the front stairs. There’s a crowd gathered there, and it takes me a second to realize that they are waiting for me.

Shit.

I may have been in the mood to confront them earlier, but that has passed. All I want now is to get inside, eat ice cream, and wait for Justin.

I square my shoulders, make sure every trace of emotion is wiped off my face, and soldier on.

Immediately, they swarm me.

“Selena! Selena, look over here!”

“Was the portrait completely nude?”

“Does it have the usual Blaine elements like bondage?”

I’m breathing hard, and my body feels suddenly cold and clammy. I don’t understand where these questions are coming from, and I’m afraid—so very afraid—to think too hard about it.

“Why did you do it, Selena? Was it for the money or the thrill?”

“Selena! Can you confirm that you accepted a million dollars from Justin Stark to pose nude for an erotic painting?”

I freeze, too horrified to take another step, as camera flashes burst around me. I feel sick, and I am certain that any moment now I’m going to throw up.

“Have you ever posed nude before?”

“Is the painting a reflection of your sex life with Justin Stark?”

“Why did you agree to be tied up?”

They’re all around me, circling me, and I reach out for Justin’s hand, but of course he’s not there. My knees feel weak, and I have to force myself to stay upright. I will not fall, I will not react, I will not give them the satisfaction of knowing they’ve gotten to me.

But they have. And as variations of the same questions are thrown at me—as I try to get to the stairs but can barely move even an inch—I know that I’m going to scream soon, just for the shock of it. Just so I can get away.

A loud squeal cuts above the din, and for a moment I think that I have screamed, because suddenly the crowd is parting, and I look up and gasp.

Justin. He’s running toward me from the street, his black Ferrari left idling in the road. And if I have ever been uncertain about Justin’s capacity for murder, I no longer am. I see it in his eyes. In the line of his jaw. In the tenseness that fills every muscle of his body. Right then, in that moment, he would kill to protect me.

He reaches out and grabs my arm, and I’m so relieved he’s here I almost cry. He pulls me roughly to him, and hooks his arm around my shoulder, holding me close as he shoves us through the crowd toward the car.

He tosses the groceries onto the floorboard, then gets me settled in the passenger seat. As he straps me in I see something break inside him. “Baby,” he says, and though the word is barely loud enough for my ears, I hear the apology and the bone-deep regret.

“Please,” I whisper. “Let’s get out of here.”

He’s in the car and accelerating toward Ventura Boulevard before my mind even catches up. His right hand is on the stick, but once we’re on the freeway, he reaches for me. “I’m so sorry. The painting. The money. I never thought—”

“No.” The word comes out sharper than I intend. “Later. Right now, I want to pretend that it didn’t happen.”

The look he gives me is heartbreakingly sad. For a moment, we are silent. But the stillness is broken by Justin’s single hard smack of his hand against the steering wheel.

“Who did this?” he asks. “Who the fuck leaked this?”

I shake my head. It still feels like cotton. I realize from somewhere outside of myself that I am not coping well.

I slide my right hand down so that it is between my body and the door, and then I clench it tight into a fist, letting my manicured nails dig deep as I squeeze and squeeze.

I bite my tongue, drawing blood.

And I wish—oh, how I wish—that I still had that tiny knife I used to keep on my keychain.

“Look at me,” Justin snaps.

I comply. I even smile. I’m starting to get some control back.

I take a deep breath, relieved that I’m functioning. But oh god, oh god, this isn’t going to stop. It’s out there, and they’re going to keep coming, and it isn’t going to stop.

“Carl,” I whisper. “This is what he was warning me about.”

“Maybe, but I don’t think so.”

“Who then?”

“Does Ollie know about the painting?”

“No!” The word comes fast and hard, but then I immediately falter. Could he have found out somehow? “No,” I say again. “And even if he did, he’d keep quiet. I’m not the one he wants to hurt.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Justin says darkly.

I swallow, because Justin has to be wrong. Even if he’s right about Ollie being in love with me, surely Ollie wouldn’t do this just to get back at me for being with Justin. Would he?

I close my eyes because I can’t stand to think about it. “Who doesn’t matter,” I say, tightening my fist again. “It’s out there.”

Justin doesn’t answer, and we drive toward downtown in silence, Justin’s anger so thick it fills the car.

“How did you know?” I finally ask.

“Jamie. She’s home. Apparently she had to push through them, too, and they were asking her about the painting. She pretended not to have a clue, then called you.”

“My phone’s dead,” I say numbly.

“I know. She called me when she couldn’t reach you, and I tried you, too. When I couldn’t get you on the phone to tell you to stay away—”

“You came to rescue me yourself.”

“Fortunately I was in Beverly Hills and you made a stop before going home.”

“Thank you,” I say.

He turns just long enough to glance at me, and his smile is sad. “I will always protect you,” he says. “But this—”

He cuts himself off sharply and I see his knuckles turn white as he grips the steering wheel. I understand. He can’t protect me from this, and he hates that.

Frankly, I’m not crazy about it, either.

Justin stays quiet until we enter the apartment. But the moment we do, he lashes out. In one fluid motion he grabs and hurls the ornamental vase that holds the floral arrangement that is the focal point of the foyer.

“Goddammit!” he shouts, the crescendo of his voice underscored by the tinkle of shattering glass hitting the floor and the splash as water flies everywhere.

I do nothing but stand there. I know how he feels. I want to lash out and break something, too.

No, that’s not true. I don’t want to lash out, but I desperately wish that I did. I wish that I could grab a glass trinket and throw it hard against the floor and take comfort in the fact that it is my hands and my power that have caused it to shatter.

But that is not what will satisfy me. Those shards of glass would not be an end for me, but a means to an end. And I would not be comforted until the glass is cutting a line in my flesh, and I have latched on so tight to the pain that it erases all the other horrors around me. Those horrible camera flashes. The jeers from the reporters. The embarrassment, the humiliation, and the knowledge that no matter what, for the rest of my life, this is never going to go away.

I shiver, feeling so very fragile, and I imagine the weight of a knife in my hand.

No.

With effort, I force myself not to cross the room and pick up a piece of the broken vase. Instead, I look at Justin, who stands with clenched fists and real anguish on his face. “It will be okay,” I say, because that is the kind of platitude that people say, even if they don’t really believe it.

“Screw okay,” he snaps. This is the temper that was so famous in his tennis days, and that has fueled his reputation for being dangerous. A sharp brittle breaking point that got him in too many fights and left too many scars, including the dark eye that is now looking at me with a bitter, resolute anger.

“None of this should be happening,” he says. “I should be able to protect you. I should be able to keep my bastard of a father out of my life and out of my car. I don’t want him or his shit near me, and I sure as hell don’t want it near you. And as for the rest of it all over the goddamn globe—”

He cuts himself off, and for a moment I think that it is out of his system.

It isn’t. “I should be able to keep your secrets as well as my own. But then again,” he adds with a mirthless laugh, “that’s crashing down, too. Goddammit.” He lashes out so fast and hard that he puts his fist through the drywall.

I gape. “Well,” I say. “That’s going to need more than a broom and a dustpan.”

He stares at me for a moment, and then his shoulders begin to shake. It takes a moment for me to realize he’s laughing. Not because it is funny, but because he is overwhelmed.

I want to hold him; I want to help him. But I can’t even help myself.

I draw in a trembling breath, and realize that my hand is curled around the end of the pink scarf that still hangs around my neck.

Slowly, I tug the end of the scarf until I have pulled it free. I wrap one end tightly around my wrist, then hand the other end to Justin. He takes it, though I see the question in his eyes.

“Tie me up,” I whisper. “Spank me. Tell me exactly what you want me to do. Do whatever you want. You want to lash out? Lash out against me.”

“Selena—”

“Please, Justin. You can’t control the world? So what? Control me.” I meet his eyes. “Please,” I say, and I hear the tremor in my voice. “Please,” I whisper. “I need it, too.”

“Oh, Selena.” He cocks his head, looking inside me to where all my secrets lie. “Need?” he clarifies. “Or want?”

I lick my lips, as if that will make the words come easier. “You told me once that if I ever needed the pain that I should come to you. I’ve broken that promise twice.” I point to my hair, and then the tip of my finger. “So yes, Justin. I need it. I need you if I’m going to get through this. And I think you need me, too.”

For a moment, he says nothing. Then he runs the scarf through his fingers. “I believe I told you on the phone that I had plans for this.”

“Yes,” I say.

He stands still, and looks me up and down. His gaze starts at my feet and travels oh so slowly up my body. He does not touch me, but still my body burns merely from the passing of his glance. I let myself go, surrendering to his power over me. Over my body. I want this. I want Justin and his strength. I want his touch.

Mostly I want him to make the rest of the world go away.

He continues his heated inspection, his face as dark and hungry as a wolf, and just as dangerous. He will consume me, and so help me, I want to be consumed. I want to disappear—I want to go somewhere that only Justin can find me.

My legs are weak, my sex throbbing in anticipation. Tiny drops of sweat form between my breasts, and my nipples strain against my T-shirt.

I keep my eyes on his, and my mouth goes dry, my pulse kicking up its tempo. He is no longer the Justin who jokes and teases, who holds and soothes me. This is not a man who will reveal his secrets to me or to anyone, and he is certainly not a man who will explode outward into a fiery rage.

No, the man standing before me is grace and control personified. There is power in his touch, power in the slightest look. He is a hard man who commands a billion-dollar enterprise, and right now I am simply one more thing that he owns.

I bite my lower lip. I am not disturbed by the thought. On the contrary, my body is tingling with awareness. To be owned by Justin Stark is heady stuff.

“Take off your clothes.”

I comply, shedding my jacket, then pulling the T-shirt over my head. Because we’re playing the game again, I am not wearing a bra, and when he sees that, the tiniest of smiles touches his mouth. I unzip the skirt next and let it fall around my feet. It is as if the hundreds of times he has seen me naked are forgotten. I feel shy and awkward. But when I see the way his eyes take me in, I feel beautiful.

“Spread your legs,” he says, and when I do, he goes down on his knees. He holds my hips, then presses a soft kiss just above my navel, and that simple touch sends shivers running through me. My body is on fire, alight with anticipation. I reach down to bury my fingers in his hair.

“No,” he murmurs. “Cup your breasts. There you go, baby,” he says when I comply. “Stroke your nipples. Are they hard?”

“Yes,” I whisper.

“Good,” he says. “I want them harder. I want them so tight that just brushing a fingertip across your nipple shoots fire all the way down to your cunt. What do you say?”

“Yes. Yes, sir.”

He smiles up at me, a smile of praise and promise, and then he turns back to my bare abdomen. His lips brush over me, lower and lower until he is tracing the neatly trimmed line of my pubic hair. And then lower still until his tongue laves my clitoris and I have no choice but to break Justin’s rules and grab hard to his shoulder, because if I do not, I will certainly topple over.

His tongue is merciless. Teasing me, fucking me, hard and demanding until I explode, my body a storm of sensation.

He is kind enough to keep me from falling, urging me down to my knees in front of him. “You taste amazing,” he says, then kisses me as if to prove the point. The kiss is deep, but all too short.

“I’m going to fuck you, Selena,” he says. “Right here, right now. Hard and fast, until pleasure rips through you like a cyclone. And then we’ll start again, slow and easy, letting it build and grow like a tiny seedling into a massive tree. Do you know how long that takes, Selena? Can you imagine a pleasure that lasts for an eternity?”

My mouth is dry, but I manage an answer. “With you, yes.”

He chuckles. “Good answer. Now unfasten my jeans.”

“Yes, sir.”

I’m so turned on that my fingers actually fumble with the button fly of his jeans, but I manage, then spread the denim and stroke my fingertips over his cock, still trapped behind the cotton of his briefs.

I hear Justin suck in air, and I relish the knowledge that as much power as he has over me, I have the same over him.

“Good girl,” he says. “Now take it out and turn around. On your knees, Selena.”

“Yes, sir,” I say, but I have another plan. I slide my hand into his jeans and over the bulge of his briefs until I find his fly. He is thick and hard and as soon as I shift him, his cock bursts out as if desperate to play, too. I know I’m supposed to turn around—and I know that I’ll undoubtedly be punished, but I can’t resist the temptation.

I lean forward and draw my tongue up the velvety length of his cock. He tastes salty and male and delicious, and when I hear him groan and say my name, my body seems to open up. I close my lips over the bulbous head, tease him with my tongue. Slowly, I take more of him into my mouth, then pull back, letting my teeth graze ever so lightly over him.

I rest my hands on his hips, and I can feel his body start to shudder. I raise up higher on my knees for a better angle. I want to take more of him; I want to make him come.

@.}

[sportashame]

Adventures in Lazytown (A Dads!AU Fic) - Chapter 3

I think you get the idea now. Content warning for depictions of depression and disability, but we’re getting to the real cutesy shit now. This is all I got done in my marathon session, but I can see myself going back to it real soon.

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2]

Sterling’s dissertation tutorial was running long. I still hadn’t decided whether that was his first or second name. It was Spring now and nearly a year after I’d been introduced to the colourful cast of what was now called “Adventures in Lazytown”. 

Steffi was 8, and after a very difficult adjustment period and some extended sick leave, I was now on medication.

“But what about MY analysis, isn’t that important, too?” He demanded. He was the only student I knew who came to classes exclusively in a suit. A sort of light-tan ensemble that, if paired with a bushy moustache and Pith hat wouldn’t have looked out of place in Colonial India.

“Yes, your analysis is the basis of the dissertation, but you need to reference your sources, otherwise it’ll be considered plagiarism.”

“But it’s MY dissertation. I don’t see why other people should get the credit for it.” This discussion was going nowhere, and I needed to pick Steffi up from the Nurse’s office. In recent months I’d relieved Bessie of her obligation to take Steffi to school four days a week. It hadn’t been easy to rend this task from her grip, and emerging from my funk of self-obsession as I had been lately, for the first time I noticed that she might be lonely. I’d always seen this blue-rinsed, five foot nothing matronly figure as rather comic, but looking at her with fresh eyes; her full face of make-up at 8am, her exquisitely tidy house and long list of telephone acquaintances, I felt I may have misjudged her. God knows I still didn’t really want to have to talk to her, but I endeavored to be friendly when our paths crossed, and she really did make excellent cakes.

I suppose I was able to notice the signs of loneliness in her, because for the first time in a long time, I’d also begun to notice them in myself. It wasn’t just the care of Steffi that was somewhat arduous on a single parent; cooking, caring for and cajoling a child is one thing without crutches, insurance and physiotherapy to be thinking about, but we managed. It was that for the first time since Steffi was 2, I had felt the absence of a person in a way that wasn’t grieving, but hoping. The idea of getting involved with someone else, that had once made me almost physically sick, now breezed through and through me with a slight thrill. Not that I’d taken any steps. Where does one even begin? My circumstances weren’t exactly conventional to start with.

I never thought I’d fall in love with a woman; when Steffi’s Mama and I got married it was to the shock and awe of a great many of our friends and acquaintances. And why not? What interest could this gorgeous, intense, acerbic ballerina have in some skinny boy in purple eyeshadow? And all the things that had obsessed me up to that point about myself; my sexuality, my flamboyance, the way I was perceived vs the way I wanted to be perceived, all melted away with her. I was simply going to be her husband until I died, and I’d never have to think about any of those things ever again.

When Steffi drew me as “Robbie Rotten” is was like looking back in time. He didn’t slob around all day. Even his dressing gown was fancy. It occurred to me as Steffi’s drawing skill improved and her pictures became more detailed, that I recognised the purple waistcoat that she had dressed my alter-ego in. It was from an old photo of me at University, the height of my overdressing phase. A beautiful two-tone 70s purple striped three-piece found in a vintage store, that I’d altered myself to fit my lanky body. The legs had been slightly too short, ditto the waistcoat, but I loved it. It’s strange proportions suited very well the way I thought about myself. The idea of having that sort of confidence nowadays felt like insanity, but still, I ventured up into the loft and there it was, the old relic, lying among a pile of clothes I hadn’t worn for years.

It didn’t fit. Of course it didn’t fit. I wasn’t fat, but a certain amount of weight gain had come with the medication. I was looking healthier for it, but I wasn’t going to be fitting into anything i’d worn at 20. There were other garments, though. Nice garments. I used to be quite the thrift shopper, and there were things here that still had pins stuck in them from planned alteration work. I couldn’t believe I’d never made anything for Steffi. When I found out I was going to be father to a little girl, it was all I could think about. Perfect little dresses, bows, ruffles. The time had just slipped away and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d bothered to pick up a needle.

I was wearing one of my old/new outfits on that day. I’d been wary about dressing up to work, my fears based around the simple adolescent principle that maybe the kids would laugh at me, but spurred on by Steffi’s adoration of my sartorial renaissance I’d dared a waistcoat today. She’d wanted to paint my nails but I drew the line. She could do it at the weekend, but it was still a little too much for a man who until recently sometimes wore his slippers to work. In reality, the only real difference my return to flashy dressing made was that it became more difficult for me to claim that students hadn’t seen me plough through three slices of cake at the Humanities cafeteria when my purple velvet jacket made me a rather unmistakable presence.

“- And MY view is that money is money and the distinction between old and new makes absolutely no sense whatsoever.”

“What?” I asked, breaking back into this punishing tutorial. Sterling made a noise of frustration, somewhere between a gasp and a growl. I stifled a laugh. He got to his feet.

“I pay for my education here, and if you’re not going to take it seriously, I will talk to my father about it.” Oh, so he was one of those students.

“Well, if that’s how you feel Ste- Mr. Sterling, then I’ll gladly talk to him over the phone and explain that in 7000 words of your dissertation on expressions of wealth in the early 20th century novel, you don’t cite a single source. Not even the texts you’re supposed to be studying.”

He huffed. A picture-perfect huff, his lip curling up as he folded his arms like a petulant little boy. I thought ‘I know you, Sterling. I know your bland, entitled view that whatever you can take should be yours. I know your puny self-awareness, and fear that you’ll never have enough, never be enough to make people really like you. And that means I know how to call your bluff.’

“Resubmit your draft to me with adequate references, and we can talk about your feelings on new money next week. I think this tutorial is over.”

As he left he muttered something more about his father, but his heart wasn’t in it. Before I rushed out the door I very quickly pulled up his student record in case I was to receive an angry call from a parent. I found that Sterling was indeed a surname, and the reason he went exclusively by it was because the poor soul had been christened ‘Stingy’. Stingy. Was that short for something? If my father had called me Stingy, I daresay I’d milk him for all he was worth until the day he died, too.

I drove fast to Steffi’s school, convinced I was late but ended up being five minutes earlier than normal. Being early is something of a novel concept to me. I was looking forward to not receiving my customary eyeroll from the school nurse as I approached her office. But something was wrong; the office was locked. This had never happened before and I immediately visualised the worst. She’d been rushed to hospital and nobody had called me. Why wouldn’t they call me? Easy Robbie, because they don’t trust you to look after your own daughter, they’re going to call a ‘safeguarding’ this time and you’ll never see her again. I swallowed and started through the corridors.

“Steffi?” I called my voice coming out quavery, addressing the empty halls. I stopped. This was ludicrous, I’d simply go to the reception desk and ask. Maybe the Nurse’s office had flooded. I went back the way I came, heading towards the school’s main reception. I passed the gym. I had to double back in order to really believe what it was I could see through the window in the door.

It was the elf.

Steffi’s elf. Sportacus. He was leading a small class of children in some sort of aerobic dance. It’s hard to say how I knew these two entities were the same, when one is a dot-eyed drawing in a blue hat and the other a short but muscular PE teacher. It was something about the smile. About the air of calm, kind authority that hovered around him, and the spell he had these children under. The spell he had me under. For all that I had resented Sportacus for usurping my place as Steffi’s role model, I had never doubted that he was the role model she deserved. To learn that he was not something her imagination had conjured to cover up the failings of an inadequate father, but rather a real person who had come into her life, was overwhelming. He was beautiful. And I realised he was looking right at me.

I jolted away from the window. Stupid man. Gazing through windows at children; that’s a good way to get yourself arrested. And Steffi was still missing. And now you’ve just reacted like a startled cat you seem even more suspicious, he’s probably calling the police right no-

“Hello!”

He was standing in the hallway, holding a hand out towards me.

“You’re Steffi’s Papa, yes?”

He had an accent. I hadn’t expected him to have an accent, but his plain, loud way of speaking was familiar to me. Less familiar were his ice-chip blue eyes and wavy blond hair, his gleaming white teeth and the lean, shapely muscles of his arms. I took his hand like a person anticipating touching an electric fence, and his firm grip thrilled through me at 10,000 volts.

“Yes. Rob.”

“Rob?”

“Yes.”

“Not Robbie?”

I felt myself flush. So I wasn’t the only person who Steffi was sharing her stories with.

“Ahah… Well I… And you’re… well, you must be. I’m afraid I don’t know what your name is other than-”

“Sportacus!” I laughed and nodded. He shrugged. God, his shoulders. “It’s a nickname. Something the kids call me. Most of them can’t pronounce my name.”

“I see. Is… You don’t happen to know where Steffi is, do you?” I asked, downplaying the fact that I’d lost track of my offspring. He responded immediately, beaming.

“Of course, she’s just inside!” He put a hand on my back and steered me towards the door of the gym where he pointed her out. “She’s practising her routine.”

Steffi’s face was a mask of concentration, her arm made elegant, swan-like arcs as her crutch dangled from her elbow. Then, placing both crutches on the ground she swung herself round, one knee siding to the ground, her other leg stretched behind her. He arms twisted above her head before she folded her entire body forward. Using her arms she flipped herself over into a sitting position, and rolled over her side, engaging the crutches with the floor to push herself to her feet in one smooth, graceful movement.

I was crying.

The elf man saw I was crying, patted me on the back and called out to Steffi. When she saw me, she didn’t know what to think. She slunk over, eyes apprehensive, believing that this was the moment of reckoning for her months of disobedience. I couldn’t bear to draw out her uncertainty. I ran to her and scooped her up in a way I hadn’t done for many years, holding her tight against me. Crying hotly into her tiny shoulder.

“Papa…” She said, clearly startled.

“I’m so proud of you.” I whispered “I love you so much.” She sunk into me then and nuzzled into my shoulder. My perfect, tough, tenacious little daughter. How could a man like me deserve to live his life alongside such a beautiful soul?

I don’t know what you must have been thinking in that moment. Or when you bid us farewell that evening with your dazzling smile, father and daughter an emotional wreck. I think we both already loved you.