#I am feeling many many emotions in the chillis tonight | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jodilin65 · 9 years ago

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WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 30, 2015 When I got up today I thought, boy it’s dark in here. Then as soon as I turned off the sound machine I could hear the rain. Yes, we actually got some real rain. I don’t know how long it’s been going on, but this is no five-minute drizzle. The only thing that sucks about it is that it’s so chilly in here. Gonna need the heat tonight for sure.

I wish we could go to Hawaii or Florida and not return till April (though we will be in Florida, Mexico, Jamaica and possibly a couple of other countries for about a week)! Because some people have asked… yes, this is a seasonal climate. Only it doesn’t get below the 20s or snow. Still, it gets plenty cold enough. The coldest night I remember in the 8 years I’ve lived here was 23° and the hottest day was 114°.

Anyway, I felt really rundown yesterday. I had to push myself to go out on the bike, and biking is the one form of exercise I never get sick of. I’ll be running indoors tonight. I felt rundown in the kind of way one does when they’re sick, only I didn’t feel sick. I wrote it off as not sleeping well, but I slept better this time around, so hopefully I won’t feel sluggish later on. Could be PMS, though I don’t feel very PMSy. I’m guessing my period will be late again as menopause sets further in. I hope that’s what it is, anyway.

I dreamed we moved to Europe, though I don’t know where in Europe. Nane might have been in the dream, too. Funny I should dream of her because I “sensed” her last night. Like she was considering contacting me or something. If she does, the smart thing to do would be to ignore her. The dumb thing to do would be to reply. Well, I would probably do the dumb thing because sometimes I just do dumb things. Warum würde das ändern?

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 29, 2015 No problem yesterday and today while I’ve been awake, but my heart raced me awake for the second time in three days. It took me a while to fall back asleep. I know it’s just anxiety due to the dosage increase, and it’s not scary like it was at first, but it is annoying. Either way, I’ve got this! This is still better than suffering while I’m awake. It’s a pain in the ass, but it stops after a few minutes. Before I would suffer for hours at a time either with my heart racing, beating hard, or the emotional twisters that having a good thyroid day can put you through on top of the medication you take. I have stood up to God (if there is one) and let Him know that I’m not going to take any more medical drama. I refuse to suffer and I’m not about to sit back and have Him allow me to do so either. Once I took that step, I began to feel better. I’m not perfect any more than anyone else is, but I certainly can’t complain compared to what I see many others go through, along with what I went through in the past.

I am much more concerned right now for my sister and Aly. My sister needs her other knee replaced, and Aly’s looking at once again dealing with radiation and chemo due to leukemia. As if they haven’t had enough to deal with between breast cancer, lung issues, and tons of other shit! To make it even scarier, so many doctors out there don’t have a clue as to what they’re doing. My first endo told me it would take six months to regulate my dose. Well, it’s been a year and a half and I’m still waiting. The more I learn from Doc O, the more info I realize Doc D withheld from me that could’ve helped me a lot.

I’m a bit surprised I haven’t had any negative dreams pertaining to my sister or Aly. Hopefully, that just means they’ll be okay in the end. They may have a rough road ahead, but they’re tough enough to pull through.

I did dream that I was at a dinner party with Lori, Lisa and June and gave them a piece of my mind.

Then we were living in some huge place somewhere that seemed more like a building than a house because the place seemed to have five or more bathrooms. I went into one of the smaller bathrooms to pour a bottle of water into the sink and noticed that the countertop was not only wet but also had a traditional toilet paper holder. I made a mental note to replace it with a handy bar holder.

Then I was in the living room where the walls were painted a teal color. Tom had pulled a tall piece of furniture about a foot from the wall (a hutch or a bookcase?) and behind it was a wallpaper pattern of some kind. I made another mental note to keep a tall piece of furniture in that area to hide it.

Then I was chasing a cat around the place (Simone?) that was trying to eat scraps of paper that had fallen to the floor.

In another dream, I was by a large pool. Several people surrounded it, but only these strange-looking penguins were jumping in and out of the pool. Even though it was a warm day and I wished I could jump in the pool too, I knew there was something in the water that was bad for people and that’s why no one was using the pool.

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 28, 2015 The older I get, the less often I get depressed. Yet last night I felt a little anxious as well as depressed. I’m on a new dosage and I don’t know how it’s going to affect me a few weeks from now, I have an ageless neighbor that likes to be noisy at times, and sometimes I miss being so far away from my closest friends and family. Not gonna lie, though. If we won the lottery today then we would be making plans to move further away (to Hawaii) the next day.

I thought about last year’s trauma and I realized that as horrible as the ordeal was, there was some good in it. For many years I have worried about how we would get by and what will become of us when we get old. However, when you are worried about how a medication may affect you in the present, it has a way of diverting your mind from what may happen in the future. That was definitely one of my biggest problems for a long time… I spent so much of it worrying about the future and all kinds of possible scenarios that may never happen.

My heart seemed to beat a little hard last night, but it may simply have been that my body was digesting all that chicken I had. If I didn’t know any better I’d swear Foster Farms put beta-blockers in their chicken! When I had some toward the beginning of my day, I felt very tired afterward and was suddenly freezing. Hypothyroidism can make you feel cold, but my numbers aren’t high enough to really get me that cold, I wouldn’t think. Finally, I perked up and warmed up. Toward the end of my day, I had some more chicken and the same thing happened. I even fell asleep early.

I went to bed worrying… Will Bob’s hammer wake me up? Will a loud vehicle wake me up? Will my heart race me awake? Will I have any nightmares? However, I ended up sleeping quite well and got up at noon for the third day in a row.

I made a few rounds around the circle on the bike just after 7 PM last night and the moon looked pretty cool from what I could see of it. It would probably have looked a lot cooler back out in the country. Part of me misses country living, minus Jesse, his mutts, the well, and a few other things. I never expected this retirement community to be quiet all the time, but I also never expected to be listening to so much traffic and landscaping this often either, along with motorcycles and power tools. It’s just ridiculous at times. At least there are no barking dogs or screaming kids, but I do hear car stereos at times. Most of those are coming from outside of the park, though. Today I heard about 10 seconds of hammering, but I couldn’t say if it was from next door or not. It has otherwise actually been a very pleasant day.

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 27, 2015 Made it through my first day on 88’s without any more than just a touch of anxiety. Couldn’t have been from the meds, though, since the new dose isn’t in my system yet. Two weeks to two months is the critical zone I need to get through. My heart did race me awake once, though, because I overheated. I got up, kicked the fan on, and fell back asleep a little while longer with no problem.

This hot day is full of car stereos and motorcycles, but only the motorcycles have come close to the house. Really REALLY wish the residents would start complaining about them, but I know they won’t with the way noise is so accepted and even encouraged in the West. Like I said, I dread the day they drop the mutt rules. What will be the point of a retirement community then? I mean I don’t care how old you are if you can’t shut up. Noise is noise and I’m not sure it matters if it comes from a stereo or a child’s mouth any more than a motorcycle or a dog’s mouth. At least Bob’s been quiet for several days now, and yes, I would rather the motorcycles than him. The motorcycles come and then they go. But when Bob starts up one of his projects, I don’t know how long I’m going to have to listen to it.

Love the weather we’ve been having. I prefer highs in the 90s because then it’s not so hot that the AC is always running, but not cool enough to let it get too chilly in the mornings.

I love routine and I love the things I usually do on a daily basis. But sometimes I just like to relax and do things that don’t require much thinking. Like coloring. Ever since I’ve gotten into adult coloring books I’ve been reading less and less. I even canceled my book deal subscription for now. I colored for hours last night and re-sorted all my pens and pencils. Love this Facebook page for adult coloring addicts, and even printed some of their free coloring pages and submitted some of my own work. They’re going to be having some kind of giveaway, but with nearly 25K “likers,” I don’t stand much of a chance. I miss the days when winning was easier!

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 26, 2015 Aly noticed my schedule’s been flipping faster this last week. I love an observant person who cares enough to notice even the little things. But yeah, it’s been jumping fast. Tom thinks I’m just anxious. Well, now that I’ve got more levothyroxine in my body than ever before since I began 88 mcg today, I’d say that yes, I’m a little anxious. Still hoping for the best, though.

Aly should get the necklace I sent her on Monday, while I’ll have to contact the seller about my set of glow-in-the-dark nail polishes since I was supposed to receive them on the 22nd and never did. I also stupidly gave the mailman a DHL number, not OnTrac.

What I don’t get is why we have to see our doctors in person with the way technology is today. My endo’s a lovely person, but why can’t we “meet” online or via phone? Wouldn’t that save both the patient and the doctor a lot of time? I can see meeting in person at least once a year, but every 3 months?

So far today I’ve heard a loud car stereo and motorcycles tearing in and out of here while I was in the shower with water beating on my head, that’s how ghastly loud the fucking things are. It’s like I can’t escape Jesse. Bob makes the kind of racket he made, and now Jesse’s motorcycles are roaring in and out of this place.

“They can’t stop people’s friends and family from visiting,” Tom said.

Why can’t they stop them from doing so on motorcycles? It’s their park. sighs If only we could pick this house up and move it to a less active section of the park!

Speaking of the park, it’s asking for clothes to be donated, so since I’m 100% sure I’ll never lose weight, it’s time to weed out the clothes I’m too big for.

Now here’s something weird. I received a call from an Auburn number in which a guy left a VM saying, “Jodi, remove me from your phone list. Al.”

Curious as to what the hell he was talking about, I called the number back and he said someone was using our numbers to enter sweepstakes and stuff like that. I told him I was sorry they were doing this to him, but it wasn’t me.

Tom said it was our old number, but I don’t recognize it as our old cell number or the landline in the trailer from when we lived in Auburn. What I don’t get is why would they use BOTH his number and my current one???

No negative dreams last night. Just weird ones. In one dream Tom went down to Arizona on a business trip and happened to stay in our Maricopa house while he was there. I anxiously asked him what it was like nowadays upon his return and he said he didn’t notice.

I said, “They must’ve planted more trees then.”

Then I dreamed Simone was with us again and this time I magically had no breathing problems, couldn’t smell her shit, and she was oh so perfectly behaved.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 25, 2015 Today is the last day of the 75s. Tomorrow my dose will be upped to 88 mcgs and yes, I am nervous about it. Trying to think positively and hope for the best, though. The thing is my body isn’t even going to know it for a week or two. This medication takes time to build up in the body.

I have enjoyed three days of peace and quiet, but that’s probably mostly due to the heat rather than the kindness of people's hearts. All I heard was the trash truck, and they were landscaping down the street at one of the houses.

It is very weird yet cool to now be able to read and comment on some Facebook posts in Dutch. I still know more German, though. I don't have any plans or desires right now to whip my Dutch and German up to serious fluency. Knowing a little more than enough to get by is sufficient enough for me. I do want to review some of my RLs, though. Consistency matters.

Tom has been doing some research on dieting since he wants to lose weight. Studies suggest it's best to eat the number of calories it would take to maintain your ideal weight, saying you would automatically lose weight if you did that consistently and then hover at your ideal weight. They say this is better than traditional dieting where you drastically cut your calories. To me, this makes no sense. I would think that each day you took in more than you put out, you would either gain weight or stay the same.

He can do what he wants, but I know I’m always going to be big and I can live with it as long as I don’t get any bigger. I’m learning, however, that it’s not all about my thyroid but also about age and genetics. I mean look at how many older people struggle to lose weight yet their thyroids work fine. The older body was just meant to have extra meat on it, even with a healthy diet and sufficient exercise. I don’t think there’s much we can do about that, but we can definitely prevent additional weight gain once we settle into whatever our middle-age weight is going to be. I have been approximately the same weight for about six years now.

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 24, 2015 Updated my passport. I was smart to have penciled in my old address so I could erase it and pencil in my current one. Why didn’t they stamp the Bahamas in when we were there? Puerto Rico was part of the US, and we didn’t quite make it to the Grand Turks, but it’s kind of strange that they didn’t stamp in the Bahamas. I thought it would be cool to have a “book” of all the countries I end up going to.

I dreamed we lived in Hawaii. Best. Dream. Ever. Still no negative dreams that might lead me to think I might be in for trouble on the new dose, but soon I will find out.

Had the runs for the second time this week, though I’m not sure why.

The air quality has been horrible here. I had a little congestion yesterday. We’ve been averaging 10° higher than normal for this time of year, but I’m certainly not complaining. It gets chilly in here in the mornings, and then the AC comes on in the afternoons.

There’s a really nice older guy who delivers our mail, and I went out to see if the nail polish that was supposed to get here two days ago had arrived, and it hasn’t. I told him OnTrac was supposed to deliver it to our regular carrier and he asked if I had the tracking number. So he backed up his truck, and I ran in to jot down the number for him. He said he would look into it but that he’s not going to be here for the rest of the week.

Next door is out now and hopefully won’t return before it's too hot for the GOM (grumpy old man) to go into I-don’t-give-a-shit mode (with his hammer) and make me edit the letter I already drafted up for Joy in hopes of jinxing him into silence.

I saw Jim pick Bob up yesterday for the second time and they took off somewhere for a few hours. Like I said, I love it when he’s out. I don’t care about his wife because she’s never noisy, but Bob can spend all the time he wants away from home.

I rejoined Tumblr for the millionth time because they have a “chat” feature that allows you to write stories in script form. I was going to try that just for something different, but it simply won’t work. There’s no way to capture unspoken thoughts and actions in the way that you can in story format.

Later…

I like to document as much as I can in my journals, not just about my life and experiences, but those I know as well. This is definitely not appropriate for public viewing.

I am always thinking of O lately. What is it with me and these doctor crushes? It used to be cops and now it’s doctors. What’re next, farmers? Real estate agents? Teachers? LOL crushes may be fun no matter who we love and are devoted to, but they can be frustrating at times. You wish you could see these people more often, but at the same time, you certainly don’t want anything to come of it. Besides, due to both age and having Hashimoto’s my libido is just about shot to hell. The bright side of that… you don’t miss what you don’t crave. Still, I can recognize something attractive when I see it and there’s just something about that endo of mine.

Let me guess… now that I have an established crush on O, she will retire, move, or something. All the hotties have a way of disappearing from my life rather quickly. Jane, the waitress moves. Liz, the cashier quits. Randy changed routes. My old doctors turn out to be less than competent. So what will happen to O? I’m guessing early retirement, though it’s possible she may move. Then I can send her a friend invite on Facebook that she won’t accept, LOL.

I’m just one of the few who can admit that no human being is attracted only to their soulmate. We are attracted to people regularly throughout our entire lives. It’s just human nature. Only difference is that with some it’s the opposite sex, some it’s the same sex, and with others, it’s both. In different frequencies as well, no doubt.

With me, it’s women with an occasional guy sprinkled in the mix. My last male crush (besides a few guys online) was one of the mailmen we had up in Oregon. There was just something about tall, wiry Randy and his alert blue eyes. I don’t have a “type” with men, though I have always liked both men and women who were older. O is a bit out of my type, just like my old PCP was because I rarely like blondes. O isn’t blonde, but she’s kind of smallish like I am. She’s Tom’s age and has light golden brown eyes with shoulder-length graying hair that is mostly dark brown. My usual type is tall with dark hair and dark brown eyes. Not big on blacks, but some Italians, Hispanics, Indians and Asians can be very beautiful.

Anyway, I got a couple of crystal heart necklaces that are identical and I have mailed one to Aly in Nebraska. She said she’d let me know when she gets it. We hang out daily on Twitter.

I am still connected with Mitch, Adonis, Christine and Eileen, though I don’t hear much from Eileen these days.

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 23, 2015 Leave it to me to get another story idea before I have finished editing Rainstorm.

Our insurance paid more for my last dentist visit than we thought they would. We thought they only paid for one of the two yearly exams, but nope. They apparently cover both. All we had to pay was the $20 the special fluoride toothpaste costs.

No bad vibes about increasing my dose, and no nightmares. Just a weird dream where somebody posted on Facebook, “Brenda drove off a bridge,” and I knew they were referring to the Brenda I dated for nearly a year in the early '90s.

As for the grumpy old man next door, Tom and I have decided that yes, if his racket escalates, we will contact the office. We took Jesse’s shit for half a decade because we had no choice, but we’re not about to take it here. I think – and seriously hope – that it won’t come to that. I really don’t want any trouble with anyone anywhere. I just want people to keep their projects, especially the unnecessary ones, for their ears only. Lately, he seems to get noisy every three days or so. If it gets to be every day or maybe even every other day, and he’s doing it off-hours more frequently, that’s what I’ll complain. I don’t want to complain unless it’s absolutely necessary. Being annoyed is one thing, but being driven crazy is another.

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 22, 2015 Just sitting here realizing I’ve come to have a little thing for Doc O… and a list of potential silly story ideas. What is it with me and docs lately anyway? That’s 4 out of the 10 or so docs and therapists I’ve seen in this state. I don’t know that I could count my dentist, though. It’s like she’s attractive, but she’s not. I think her sweet personality is more what I’m attracted to, and not her. I sort of liked Dr. D even though I didn’t, I definitely liked Dr. C, and now there’s just something about Dr. O. Like I said, there was just something about her demeanor, though she’s still friendlier than Dr. A.

After the doctor’s yesterday, we grabbed a burger and fries at Carl’s Jr., then went to Walmart to pick up my new prescription. I’m not starting this dose until the weekend.

I got a heart-shaped necklace that changes colors depending on how the light hits it and a new pair of pink slippers.

Tom did some trimming and blowing when we got home, and I wish to hell that others doing the same exact thing wouldn’t be so damn annoying to me. When he does it, it’s simply a sound in the background. When others do it, it’s a huge annoyance. I guess that when he’s making the racket, I know what’s going on and I know how long it’s going to last. But now that Bob has taken to hammering before 8 AM, I wonder how much more that’s going to go on before I am forced to go to the office to stop it.

Seriously, how many more decades of rude, inconsiderate neighbors can I possibly take before I snap? Totally, totally snap. Although it was only for about a minute, it was very loud and it happened at 7:45 AM. You’re not supposed to make noise before 8am. What I wonder, though, is whether or not it was in regard to my music. I did have it kind of loudish while I was showering, but since I could hear him hammering over the music barely 3 yards away from my window, my guess is no. It is possible that even an older guy who’s hard of hearing could have heard it, but I don’t think so. I would have probably heard it if I was standing outside the window.

Why do I feel like I am being spited for simply taking Virginia’s suggestion? She asked if I heard them. Well, I told Bob that yes, I could. I am coming to learn just what a mean guy this really is. Just totally rude and inconsiderate. He was never as friendly as Jim and a few others I’ve met around here, but I didn’t realize he had a blatant lack of respect and compassion for those around him. He is clearly one of those who is going to do what he’s going to do regardless of how it affects others.

I am so fucking sick of this shit following me every single fucking place I go. Yes, I have had much worse to deal with neighbor-wise, but nobody should be hammering outside your window that early in the morning.

Because I expect it to escalate, I have already drafted an email, which I will send to Joy if he keeps pushing me like this. I would rather an email that I can edit and that would be harder to deny than a face-to-face since there’d be a record of it. Yes, I know it is taking a risk should they be good friends with Joy or have connections in law enforcement like the freeloaders did, but sometimes we have to do what we feel is best. Life is about taking chances, isn’t it? I really hope it doesn’t come down to that, but just what did he absolutely have to hammer with such intense force at 7:45 in the morning? Tom said the walkway looks fine. I agree, from what I saw going to get the mail. There’s nothing wrong with it, so whatever he’s doing over there is not a necessary repair. This is an incredible display of rudeness and it has stamped out any last thoughts of trying to make peace with them. I’m sorry he reacted so poorly to my honesty and that he's such a sore loser, but I’m not sorry that I spoke my mind.

There is nothing to suggest he has dementia, Alzheimer’s or anything like that, which can cause a person to turn on you. I think he’s just plain mean and inconsiderate.

His upcoming actions will determine whether or not I contact Joy, depending on both the frequency and the time of day. It’s totally up to him at this point. I just wonder how I’m going to react when he finally starts waking me up. This isn’t 16 young people that could beat my ass in a heartbeat. This is 1 old man.

All I know is that I don’t care anymore how much longer they’ve been here than us. And that’s fine that he wants to do things and keep active, but it shouldn’t be at my expense. I want to do things too, but other than when we’re landscaping we don’t make anybody else listen to us and I really expect the same consideration and respect in return.

Just heard a few more bashes against something, this time softer and probably coming from the garage. It definitely wasn’t because of anything I was doing, because I don’t have any music on at all. It’s just his rude, “I’m going to do what I’m going to do and fuck the rest of the world” attitude. Really hope he does start hammering more often too early or too late because then I have definite grounds for complaint and then it will be more likely that I can do something about it.

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 21, 2015 Sure enough, Doc O feels I should be at 88 mcg. She said she can’t make me do anything I don’t want to do, but really believes it’s necessary since my thyroid only puts out 50% of what it needs to and that number will probably go down in time.

I asked her what the odds were of me being flipped from hypo to hyper, and she said the chances were very low. I told her I was going on vacation and didn’t want that playing on my mind while I was gone. She asked me when we were leaving and I told her January or February was most likely, and she said I had plenty of time to know how my body was going to tolerate it. She also reminded me that I could have an anxiety attack for any unrelated reason at any time. I agree, and as I told her, I believe the anxiety started with the levothyroxine, but other things in conjunction with it fed off of one another and I had a bit of a domino effect going for a while.

Her mood seemed a bit different this time. Like she didn’t really want to see me. Maybe I read her wrong and maybe she was just pressed for time or upset about something else, but it almost seemed like she wasn’t exactly glad to see me. She didn’t rush me, though. I doubt it’s got anything to do with me, and this is the way she probably is most of the time, but I couldn’t help but wonder if it had anything to do with my not being able to keep my appointment with the psychiatrist. Or maybe even my message to Doc C somehow got back to her and she finds it disturbing. Remember? People always seem to know my business as well as be connected to someone I’m no longer connected to. Like I said, I doubt it had anything to do with me personally. I was a bit surprised she didn’t comment on Tom not being present this time around. There were a few times she smiled and went off-topic, but it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that she continues to do her job properly.

When we were discussing anxiety and whether or not the medication was likely to cause it, she reminded me that a lot of things can get the heart pumping that has nothing to do with it. An example she used was how much she hates scary movies.

“I love scary movies,” I told her.

She said, “Okay, bad metaphor.” And then she said that she didn’t enjoy riding roller coasters or find watching videos of roller coasters entertaining.

I told her spiders could get my heart going, and she knew how I felt, saying she’d recently found a black widow in her vegetable garden. I told her that it so happened that we were bombing the house at the moment. “For black widows?” she asked.

“No,” I told her, “for any and all spiders.”

Anyway, she doesn’t think I have anything to worry about and reminds me that going from 75 to 88 isn’t much. It’s like standing by the ocean and throwing in a salt tablet. Well, can you find your salt tablet? she asked.

She also said she thinks I overthink things at times. I told her I think she’s right. :)

Still, I am a bit nervous about it and I’m not going to start until the weekend when Tom will be here, even though it’s going to take time to be a problem if it’s going to be.

She also said it makes no difference if you took two 75s one day and a 75 the rest of the week. It still equals 88 a day for a week, and no matter how you take it, it’s all the same. If I do run into any trouble, however, she said not to stop the medication. Just call her and get to the lab so they can see if there’s a connection to the levothyroxine or not. Past experience has taught me this is very important, too. I stopped the meds when I first ran into trouble and that caused me to test as hypo when I KNOW I was hyper. It just would’ve been nice if the bitch I last saw had warned me that could happen.

I mentioned the strange throat pain I’ve had a few times and she wasn’t sure what to make of it, but suggested allergies could’ve had something to do with it. Unless it becomes a regular thing, I’m not going to worry about it.

Out of curiosity, I asked her if the dose increase would affect my weight and told her that while I haven’t dieted recently, my weight still won’t respond to diet and exercise. She said it might help a little, but probably not much. I figured as much, but at least I don’t have to worry about gaining. Good enough for me for now, though she did say my weight was down from the last time. I was like, really? I thought it was the same. But it was down 2 pounds.

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 20, 2015 What I read yesterday about the throat pain I had, which was a lot like what I had when I was on Prozac, suggests I could have swollen lymph glands. It lasted most of the day and then it just turned itself off in an instant. Thanks to the shitty timing, I really thought the first time I had it that it was caused by the Prozac, and I even found some reports online complaining of that. New things really need to stop happening when other new things are going on so I can tell what’s what! It said that the most common causes are allergic reactions or infections. I don’t feel like I’m infected and I downed a yogurt before it came on. I’ve never had problems with these yogurts before, though.

I only heard about 12 wallops with Bob’s beloved hammer yesterday and it was softer than usual. I’m sure there will be more to come soon enough.

Yesterday we got a bill from my dentist charging me for the special fluoride toothpaste and part of the exam. Tom started reading off the items, saying, “Fluoride toothpaste, gum probe exam, speaks 6 languages, going on a cruise in January to see sister for first time in many years…”

At that point, I burst out laughing because I thought he was joking. He knows that we chat along the way and that I did mention these things to both Holly and the dentist. They were quite happy for me, especially at the prospect of seeing Tammy for the first time in so long.

Sure enough, though, it really was listed on their summary, LOL. I was surprised since that doesn’t have anything to do with my oral health. To be more precise, we may go cruising in February, and I actually speak more like 5 languages while I understand 4, and those I speak aren’t all up to speed. I’m fluent enough in ASL and Spanish, and of course, English, but my Italian is a little slow, and my German grammar is a nightmare. Still, I do well overall in Language Land.

The only dream I remember last night was living in a house in a rural setting. It was nighttime and I saw what I knew to be the headlights of Tom’s car approaching the house. Jesse magically appeared and for some bizarre reason, I was worried that Tom would get the wrong idea when he got in.

When Tom entered the house, however, he was all excited for me because he had this antique highchair of all things that I supposedly had been looking for.

Later…

We went to Target earlier. I got a pair of silk panties, some treats, pine-scented air freshener, a pack of 30 Twistables colored pencils, and a pair of pantyhose that snagged as soon as I put them on.

I'd say it's too hot to have to worry about Bob stirring up any racket for the rest of the day, so that's good.

Even though I shouldn't be, I'm still nervous about tomorrow's appt.

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 19, 2015 Still nervous about Monday’s appointment. It’s like I want to just get it over with but I also never want Monday to arrive. I almost feel like a kid being sent to the principal, LOL. I know what she’s going to say and it’s not going to be what I want to hear.

No racket next door yesterday, but I’d be willing to bet just about anything that he’ll work on his damn walkway sometime over the next few days. This is a 3-day weekend for Tom, too. It’s going to alternate between 3 and 2 over the next few weeks.

Not sure what we’re doing this weekend, but I am sure we’re changing the rats’ cage later and going out on the bikes. Monday, as we go to leave for the appointment, we’ll be bombing the place. We’ve seen some pretty big, fat and scary-looking spiders in here. The day before, we’ll bomb the shed, as that’s where the rats go when we bomb.

Tammy called to ask what sweepstakes site I used to use. Not sure why she didn’t just ask on Facebook, but at least I got to hear that she sounds pretty good. It had been a while since I’ve heard from her anywhere. I knew she was busy with the new house, but didn’t know if she’d been sick or what. They do testing on her every few months and she has her good days and her bad, she says. I just wish she and Mark would get off the damn cigarettes. She’ll never be perfect if she quits, but she’ll be a million times better.

Later…

So we go out on the bikes (it’s freezing out!), pass Bob, I say hello, and he ignores me. Fine, cock. Be that way.

Either way, I know I could go over there and make peace with them, but I’m not going to apologize for what I’m not sorry for. I would rather disagree and not speak than speak after I told them what they wanted to hear. If we were the same age and both planned to be here forever, that might be different. For now, he makes more noise than he needs to being just a few yards away from someone else’s house. Other than the contractor, no one else has made a fraction of the noise he’s made, so there’s no need or excuse for a lot of it. He chooses to do what he does and not consider those around him. When Virginia told him to ask if we could hear them doing laundry in the early mornings, he didn’t forget to ask us. It’s quite obvious that he didn’t ask us cuz he simply didn’t care. A lot of people are just like that.

He’ll either move on in time or forever hold his grudge, probably the latter. The more I’ve gotten to know him, the more I see that they’re not the nice people I thought they were, especially him. I don’t need the “grumpy old man” shit in my life and so I’ll just ignore him back. I also don’t trust my temper either. If he says anything rude to me I’m gonna want to pop him, and I’m not going to jail for this cock just to lose my freedom, be denied my meds for who knows how long, and then have to pay a fortune. Really, I hate it when people get all pissy-assed when you let them know they’re annoying you. His wife wanted to know if they were disturbing us and I told him. I just don’t get that or why some people take things so wrong and act like you’re making an unreasonable statement or request of them. If I didn’t know any better I’d think the freeloaders in Phoenix were asked not to breathe. Meanwhile, this one’s old, it can’t be out and about that many more years, and I’m not going to let it get to me.

Jim did say hello to us as we passed him afterward, which kind of surprised me. I would think that Bob would be quick to tell him that he now hates me and therefore he would ignore us too, but I guess not.

Later…

Looks like we’re back to the afternoon net games. The net just cut out when I was trying to tweet about my throat pain. Oh, and sure enough, the cock next door just started hammering. It’s not as loud as last time, but I’m sure it’ll pick up in volume and annoyance soon enough. So far I only heard like a dozen strikes, but give it time.

As Aly pointed out, it could be that he didn’t notice me or was simply lost in thought and that may be why he didn’t at least appear to acknowledge my greeting. The guy is also hard of hearing, but I don’t care. I just don’t care.

I am a little worried that if he’s turned against me, he’s going to turn against Tom, too. It would be incredibly rude of him to ignore Tom should they see each other outdoors, but that’s not the main point. It’s not that Tom would fall apart with a broken heart if Bob failed to return a hello, but if Bob ignores him, he may think something bad is going on other than my being annoyed by the old fart.

Anyway, I have this mysterious throat pain when I swallow that’s similar to when I took Prozac. Swollen lymph glands and ear infections can cause this, I just read, along with some other things. It’s common. I don’t feel like I have an ear infection, though I can say I haven’t felt as energetic lately. At the same time, I’ve been up 18-19 hours the last few days. Hopefully, I’m just nervous about my appointment and Andy waking up for the second day in a row with a bad vibe concerning my health is just a coincidence. He told me about this before I even mentioned my throat pain. Chances are, nothing new is wrong with me and he’s just picking up on my appointment nervousness.

While I’m thrilled for Tom and Andy that their problems are minimal, and while I know it’s a waste of time comparing, I can’t help but wonder why. Why have they got 1-2 conditions while I’ve got 6 or 7? Andy has high cholesterol and sleep issues, and Tom has just high BP. But I have the ear, asthma, allergies, a sleep disorder, a dead thyroid and high cholesterol. I guess I won’t count the ingrown toenail since that’s no longer an ongoing thing.

Just saw next door’s SUV leave. Shit, it’s just Virginia. Figures. Let me guess… Bob’s about to get louder now, right?

I do worry about encountering a whole new health problem if they can ever safely get my thyroid stuff where it should be. The only issue I have with last year’s trauma (besides the PTSD I’ve suffered on account of it) is that I wonder if it was a preparation of sorts for something worse to come. If anything worse is to come it’s got to be OMG kind of horrible since what happened was horrible enough. I had that feeling when they threw me in Florence Jail, and I was right. It was as if it was to prepare me for Estrella. And was the hotel shit to prepare me for the unemployment nightmare?

Tom suggested I try to eat the number of calories it would take to hold me at 120 pounds, saying I’d lose weight if I stuck to it. He’s trying to lose weight himself, but I’ve totally given up. It’s hopeless and I know it. One site told me that for a woman my height, weight and age with moderate activity it takes 1993.5 calories to maintain 150 pounds, though with Hashimoto’s I’d gain on that amount easily. 120 takes 1797 and 110 takes 1732.5 while 100 takes 1666.5. They’re WAY off. I could maintain 150 on that last one, but I still say 1200 would hold me at 120.

Not. Very. Doable.

Another site says I need to eat 1150-1350 to lose (which is more reasonable) but doesn't tell me what I need to eat to maintain a lower weight. Maybe I'll go with 1300. Not super easy but more doable than 1000 or so. Or maybe I’ll just accept that I am the size I was meant to be.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 18, 2015 I haven’t been sleeping well lately (probably because I’m nervous about Monday’s appointment). so I am kind of tired. I’m also still pissed over next door’s racket yesterday and his I don’t give a shit attitude. I went to bed deciding that was it. No longer would I be the considerate one. The quiet one. The respectful one. I’m giving it all back. As soon as the hammering starts, I will open the window and blast the shit out of my music.

But then I felt a little hesitant to do so because I don’t want to annoy innocent people around here who have nothing to do with it, not that anyone will complain on me since it would be the daytime and no one seems to mind noisy neighbors in the west. I also hesitate a bit because I want to be obvious without being that obvious. Maybe I should wait for two or three more hammering sprees before I give it back? I also don’t want to disturb his wife, who is always quiet. Then again, how could I? If she’s ok with his racket, she not only would be ok with mine, but she couldn’t hear my music inside their house anyway. Eh, they won’t care about my music even if they could hear it. Even Virginia said not to worry about that, to open the window, do what I want, etc.

I still can’t believe he suggested I consider getting an office because he’s going to be making noise from time to time over there. That is just so fucking rude and I don’t care what anybody says. I realized that just because most people wouldn’t consider him rude and would consider his racket normal daytime noise, as long as I consider it rude and distracting, then that’s exactly what it is. At least to me, it is. We all perceive things differently, and well, is there really any right or wrong way to perceive things? IMO, he’s loud, rude, distracting and annoying when he hammers and uses loud power tools, especially when it’s on unnecessary projects. I understand that replacing a damaged brick walkway is necessary, but just as I suspected it would, it’s going to take weeks, if not months, and it’s still annoying either way. Pretty sure I saw a bunch of bricks piled up against this back wall, too.

He wasn’t the only one pissing me off yesterday. Now that the leaves are coming down faster there’s been more landscaping. I heard scattered bursts of blowers on and off most of yesterday. Very loud and very annoying. I’m not going to open my window and blast music every single weekday, so maybe my best bet, since my laptop is portable, is to work in whichever room is quietest at the moment. Maybe I’ll just work in the laundry room when I’m up during the hours of 8am - 4pm. That contractor is easier to hear in there, but he’s easier to drown out than Bob is, and the laundry room is farther from Bob than the living room and bedroom. Besides, I haven’t heard any sawing from that guy in months.

All in all, Bob shouldn’t have the right to build unnecessary birdhouses unless he makes sure others can’t hear him, but he does have the right to repair his walkway, like it or not.

Meanwhile, he’s 86. How many more years could he possibly have the energy and strength of a 20-something? I should be glad for the noise they don’t make. They hardly ever have company. They don’t have brats over there that aren’t supposed to be there. They don’t have mutts. They don’t have a motorcycle or other vehicle that’s overly loud.

Got my new rat ring yesterday and I love it! It’s super cute and comfy.

Later…

Since I’m stuck in my secondary office and I’m limited as to what I can do right now, I thought I would just go on a private bitchfest. I try to keep positive stuff public and negative stuff private. I don’t need anyone judging me on the things that bother me. Like punching someone in the gut that has a stomachache.

I have equipped my laundry room office with a stash of water, incense and some mint lip balm. I even wheeled in my comfy chair. I took Alexa in here to play nature sounds and I also have an earplug in. Shitty way to have to live, but as long as Bob’s alive and able-bodied, he could go months without making a racket, or he could do it regularly. All I know is that right or wrong, I’m sick of hearing it.

Initially, I thought I would wait until he started his shit before running into the laundry room, but I would rather just work there during the daytime and not know when he starts this shit. Ignorance really is bliss at times, and what I don’t know can’t piss me off. On the other hand, if I could know exactly when he was going to act up and I could mark it on the calendar, knowing what was coming when would make it easier to deal with because then I would know upfront how many days it would be worth coming in here. This is still a better place in the daytime because it gets me further away from the landscapers. Some of them, anyway. The other day they didn’t even wait till 8 o’clock to start up.

A part of me started to think, aw, it’s too bad we’re not on better terms. We’re going to be neighbors for another decade or so. But then I remember his classic Western I-don’t-give-a-shit attitude and his rude comments about getting an office.

Yeah? Why don’t you pay for that office, Bob? And why don’t you even drive me there, too.

Argh! If it’s a sin to want to slap an 86-year-old man, then I’m going to hell if there is one.

Let me guess… Virginia is just as pissed as he is. No way she would say something like what Tom would say which would be something like, “Well, it is kind of loud.”

I’m just so pissed off because again, I’m limited as to what I can do. I can’t watch TV because of the sound machine, yet the TV wouldn’t be enough to drown out any hammering or sawing. Too bad I’m not into role-playing. I could just lose myself in fantasy for the next six hours, LOL.

I’m not going to be able to proofread this with the text reader because that too, requires a quiet background. I guess I will have my nighttime activities and I will have my daytime activities. This will have to be posted later on.

Did some surveys and read some other people’s journals.

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 17, 2015 Not much new to update on. Just that I had weird dreams instead of negative ones for a change. I dreamed that Tom and I were hanging out and I asked Alexa what the temp was to be that day. She said 128°, LOL.

Then I had a second dream where I was telling Tom about the first dream, and then I suddenly asked, “Is that the flag?” when I heard this rattling sound. He said it was, and I knew it was windy out by the way the pole rattled in its holder.

Then I walked into this small but sparsely furnished room supposedly in our home. It seemed to have hardwood floors. A rat was sleeping in a cage against the back wall, and the room’s single window toward the right was open.

Later…

I am so fucking pissed now. It was a horribly noisy morning. The landscapers are coming around more and more now that the leaves are coming down faster, and Bob is STILL working on the fucking walkway.

When I went out to ask him if he was still working on it (to see if he would tell me how much longer it would take) he asked if he was bugging me. I casually mentioned working and he asked where I worked. I told him I usually work in the living room but would take my laptop in the other room. Then he tells me that he’s going to be making noise from time to time over there and that I might want to consider getting an office.

Gee, thanks a lot, Bob. Really that is just so fucking rude and inconsiderate, even if most people wouldn’t think so. Ok, so technically, he does have a right to repair his damn walkway. He also has the right to do unnecessary projects like beat out some birdhouses for his grandkids. Rude or not, like it or not, daytime noise simply is acceptable. I can’t expect him to stop living his life just because he’s annoying the fuck out of me.

It was just his “fuck you, I don’t give a shit” attitude that got to me. At least that’s the way he seemed to come off to me anyway. Perhaps I would have the same attitude if I were here first, but that’s not the point at least in my mind. In my mind, it is just so fucking distracting and annoying, not to mention unfair. We don’t make him listen to us nearly as much. I just hope that now that he’s irritated with me (unless I’m reading him wrong) he doesn’t actually set out to make more noise. Even so, I know I should do what I should have done decades ago… accept that my neighbors are going to be noisy at times, some worse than others. I’m simply not meant to have lazy neighbors who like to sit indoors in front of a TV all day or online (they don’t even have a computer, as I suspected) any more than I was meant to be tall. I was meant to have outdoorsy neighbors who always like to do loud projects, and if it weren’t this, then it would just be noisy company. Even Tom said…I did know that the garage was there when we moved in here. Yeah, but I didn’t know that so many people around here were going to use their garages as little workshops.

I take some solace in knowing that this guy can’t live THAT much longer. Will he really be hammering away like this when he hits his 90s four years from now? I just fear that if we’re still here when they do die, the next people will be a lot worse. It just doesn’t matter what I get for neighbors. Whoever’s closest to me is the noisiest or at least runner-up. Doesn’t seem to matter what age, gender or color. You can be a young welfare bum, a middle-aged woman, or an old man and you’re still going to drive me crazy at times if you’re the one next to me. I always look around at different locations within the park when I’m out and about and wonder if that particular place would be quieter. But I know that if I lived there it wouldn’t be, and it might even be worse.

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 16, 2015 I had very negative dreams last night filled with much desperation. The question is, were they fueled by my upcoming doctor's appointment? Are they a sign that trouble is ahead? Or were they simply just because?

If I don’t hear from you for a long time on Facebook, I delete you. Two recent deletions were Jessie and Kim. Then yesterday Kim messaged me to say that she was not only still recovering and undergoing physical therapy for a car accident she was in two years ago, but she was just in another one and is hardly ever on Facebook. I think it’s time for her to spend less time driving and more time on Facebook in her case. This is the third accident that I know of. She rear-ended her boyfriend one time back in the 90s, LOL.

I caught Bob and Jim on their morning walk yesterday and gave Bob his mail.

We ordered some more bedding for the rats, plus I ordered a set of six glow-in-the-dark nail polishes, a tiny rat ring, and neon pencils. I got the pencils and they’re way overpriced and under-neoned. The pink is bright and the orange is somewhat bright, but the green and yellow look like barely visible pastels.

It’s supposed to drop to just 51° this morning, so I have opted to run indoors instead of ride outdoors. If it’s breezy out that makes it worse, and it is a bit breezy this morning.

When I looked at the map and the areas of the country they expect to be wetter this winter, we’re right smack on the edge of the line between wetter and warmer. So I guess it could go either way for us.

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 15, 2015 I saw a movie about a happily married woman who was a sex addict. She had it all… Great family, great career, great everything. While I was never a sex addict, the movie brought me back to the 90s and some of the shit I went through back then trying to get more sex from Tom only to feel rejected in the end. Also, trying to conceive the child I once wanted so badly. There is nothing more humiliating than knowing you were considered attractive by society’s standards (would I have been a T&A dancer if I wasn’t?) just to have to practically beg your husband for sex.

Although I knew deep down from a logical standpoint that he was the one with the problem, it really has a way of making a woman feel less than attractive. I could have gotten just about any man in those days, not that I would want them, but the one person I loved enough to marry, definitely left me feeling deprived and neglected in that department a lot of the time until I got older and my own appetite began to fizzle out as my aging hormones died off. I know the Hashimoto’s has affected it as well.

There is nothing more frustrating and depressing than wanting something so bad that you can never have. Knowing that it was such a normal, everyday fact of life made me want to beat my head into the wall all the harder. I wasn’t asking for a million bucks. I wasn’t asking for a mansion on a private island. I just wanted a normal sex life and a child. That, on top of a lot of other shit I went through in life, is what convinced me that I was absolutely nothing in the eyes of God, should one actually exist. The legal revenge sought on me 15 years ago was the final straw. The poverty trip of the '00s really slammed the nail into the coffin as far as me ever forgiving any possible God up there. No matter how many good things await me in my future, I will always loathe the hell out of God. There is only so much we can forgive. He could’ve prevented a lot of what I went through, yet He chose to sit back and let it happen. Again, this is if he even exists. I understand that there is still a chance that there may be absolutely nothing up there and that the things that happen to us are simply random events.

If Helen hadn’t shown me that literature to prove that Tom really did have a genuine sexual problem, I may still believe to this day that he purposely allowed himself to get hard but made sure he didn’t cum most of the time. I totally believe without a doubt that he truly did have this problem; I just think that it was a problem he was glad to have. I think it was hard for him to say no to something he knew I wanted, and that if you wanted a kid as bad as I once did, he would’ve sought help for his problem. But the fact that he knew he had a problem and wasn’t willing to do anything about it, well, that pretty much tells you something right there.

I’m glad in the end that my desire for a child faded with time and age, but I will forever resent what I had to go through. Random event or a punishing God at work, it was utterly depressing and frustrating and it had a way of making me feel like a real freak at the time, no matter how much you know it’s not your fault. Tom led me to believe that it was at times, intentional or not, but I know it was nothing I said or did. He was the one who had a physical problem that affected him sexually. I’m sure he’s always had this and always will. Kudos to you, however, if you have a problem you’re okay with because I would think most people would go out of their minds if they could get excited but not get off. That would leave me personally feeling beyond frustrated and teased to hell and back.

It was like I swapped roles once I got with Tom. My exes wanted more sex than I wanted, and it was just the opposite with Tom. No matter whom I may or may not lust for, Tom is definitely the only one I have ever truly loved. You’ve got to love someone to stay with them given the way our barely existent sex life was. I think most people would have left him over it. Sex is more important to most people than it is to me. Sure it was much more important to me when I was younger, but I guess I just don’t see the world through the same eyes that most people do.

Tom and I have been more like damn good friends for many years now and I don’t know that I could ever get myself interested in having sex with him again if he suddenly wanted it. I don’t even know if a gorgeous woman (the gender I’m still predominantly attracted to) could do the trick for me. Sometimes it bothers me that that doesn’t bother me. But I guess in the end I’m just a little more willing to accept myself as I am than most people would be.

Later…

My dreams have taken a very negative turn and have been filled with lots of desperation. It’s the usual hotel and poverty bullshit. In the first dream, I didn’t know Tom and I was on disability again and about to be kicked off. But this time I had no loving husband to fall back on.

I asked to meet some guy over the phone that I knew as a neighbor-friend, but when he insulted me by asking if I just wanted to “hound” him, which I knew to mean burden him with my troubles, I didn’t bother meeting him.

My mother was in one part of the dream and I was also living in a hotel. The last of my money was running out fast and I knew I had to find a job and then miraculously figure out a way to hold my schedule so I could keep the damn job. I talked to one of the hotel staff (probably in the housekeeping department) and asked if she could help me out by giving me a job. She said, “What are you going to do? Expect to save enough to get a place of your own?”

I told her that I was planning on staying indefinitely at the hotel, knowing that the job wouldn’t pay enough to support a place of my own. I asked again if she could help me out and she said, “Yeah,” but before she could give me any details, someone came up to her with something urgent they needed to discuss with her.

At this point, I woke up for a bit, and then when I fell back asleep the damn dream continued. This time, however, I knew Tom. He was staying in the same hotel, just not in the same room for some reason. My body was getting weak with hunger and I went to the room in which I thought he was staying. I pushed the unlocked door open, but when I saw that both beds were occupied, I realized that wasn’t his room. I then ran back to my room to call Tom, but the call wouldn’t go through. Instead, I kept getting these weird messages. Frustrated and hungry, I went to the hotel’s restaurant and just as a waitress came to take my order, I managed to get ahold of Tom. I told the waitress to wait a bit, and then I was walking with Tom to his room an instant later. “Ever feel like something’s trying to keep us apart?” I asked him.

“Yes,” he said.

Then I said something like, “All for trying to make things better.”

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 14, 2015 Wow, another house went up for sale down the street and they’re asking $170,000 for it. It goes to show we truly did move at the right time. You’d never get the kind of deal we got on this house now that the economy has improved as much as it has.

We got a piece of Bob and Virginia’s mail, which I’ll bring to them in the morning. I don’t know why Tom didn’t just bring it over when he picked up the mail, but I don’t mind bringing it over. I just hope that if anybody around here gets a piece of our mail they will care enough to do the same for us.

Yesterday my allergies were the worst they’ve been in the 2 years and 2 months we’ve lived here. I hadn’t had any problems and so I dropped my nasal spray down to once a week. Got to make that twice a week from now on.

I hate it when people make a statement without elaborating, leaving me to have to guess at the millions of possibilities the statement could mean. Really wish people would just come out and tell me things. Really, it’s like just say something if you have something to say, and do it with enough explanation for me to understand why you made your statement in the first place. You don’t need me to prompt you to go on. Tom and a few others I know are like that and as harmless as it is, it frustrates me at times.

He will say something like, “Work sucked today.” Naturally, I am expected to pump in for more information by asking how it sucked. And then I end up telling him, “Now couldn’t you just have come out and said ‘work sucked today because blah, blah, blah?”’

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 13, 2015 Hard to believe my youngest niece just turned 25. The last time I saw her she was in diapers and couldn’t even talk. Hopefully, I am only a matter of months away from seeing her and other family members, and no medical drama gets in the way of that.

My dreams turned negative just hours before picking up my health test scores online yesterday. It’s the usual shit I have when things aren’t running smoothly… poverty, being stuck in places I don’t want to be, etc. As long as I’m not falling from 20-foot shower stalls, getting my throat slit, or stuck in riots, I should be okay. My experience, however, has been that the worse shit I go through in my dreams, the worse shit I am likely to go through when I’m awake. Everything else in life is fine, though, except for those damn numbers.

In last night’s dreams, it was noisy neighbors and a strange duplex with no solid wall between us. The noisy neighbor was repairing skirting around their home, but in reality, none of these houses have skirting because they’re set at ground level.

The duplex was weird. The wall that ran between the two stopped about 3 feet from the front exterior wall. I could peer around that wall, down a narrow hallway, and into their kitchen. I guess a couple with noisy brats lived there. I peeked in late one night and there was just enough light to see most of the room since they left a small light on, probably over the stove. It was a big kitchen and very orderly. It might have had blue wallpaper with some kind of design.

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 12, 2015 My numbers were posted today and while they’re not bad, they’re not good either. My TSH is up to 10.61 from 8.35, and my T4 is down from 1.4 to 1.1.

I’m not surprised, as frustrating as this is. Just had a bad feeling, and I’ve also been a little more hypo lately… dry skin that goes beyond being older and living in the high desert, dry hair that breaks off or falls out, feeling cold at times even when it says it's 77° in here, struggling to keep my weight down, feeling lightheaded at times…

I can live with being overweight, but I do NOT want to get obese. Might not have much choice in the end, though. Hashimoto’s controls us more than we control it in some ways. I just wonder how many more years my antibodies are going to have these anger issues with my thyroid and feel the need to bully the thing as much as I bullied my poor classmates in grade school.

What scares me the most is knowing that the doctor’s going to want to bump me up to 88 mcgs. Tom doesn’t think I have anything to worry about, but I’d worry about all that horrible heart-pounding anxiety returning. It was literally artificial terror and not something you can just “turn off” at will, no matter how much you may come to understand what’s going on. It’s like smoking a joint and trying to tell yourself not to feel high. So telling yourself to “calm down” when you’re adrenaline’s pumping simply isn’t an option.

Tom saw next door’s walkway when he was out watering earlier and said it looked like Bob finished it while I was on nights. Hopefully, he’ll take a few months off before the next project.

My dreams were negative last night. Perhaps a sign of the bad number report? The only neutral one was a voice message from Bob P, who I knew when I lived in S Deerfield, MA in the '90s and who died in prison in 2006. I don’t remember what he was saying, though.

In another dream, we lived in a house that looked nothing like ours (as usual), and for some strange reason, I had fallen asleep on the floor by the front door. I was suddenly startled awake by the sounds of someone just beyond the door, and my first thought was that Tom had come home from work. Then I realized that they were making this ongoing struggling sound that suggested they were trying to break in, and I remembered hearing about a rash of break-ins in the area.

Torn between throwing the door open and surprising them or running out back, I decided my fists and my own anger issues would be worthless against any weapons, so I grabbed my cell and ran out back to dial up the bacon.

Then I had another negative dream where I was told that we might have to rent a place. I knew this meant we were in the poorhouse again and could no longer afford to own. The strange thing was that I seemed to live with my mother and not my husband. I totally hated the thought of returning to the mainstream where you hear a helluva lot more than you do in a retirement community even on its noisiest of days, so I tried to look at the positives to renting instead. No having to pay for things that broke and things like that. I still wasn’t happy with the idea of renting.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 11, 2015 Sat down to make out the grocery list as I do every Friday, and I asked myself, “Which would you prefer… a menu closer to 1000 calories a day which will drop you the same few pounds you keep on regaining because you know damn well you can’t stick to 1000 calories for more than a few days or a nice comfy 1500 cals that’ll keep you 30 pounds overweight so long as you work out?”

I chose the latter… keep the fat, avoid the hunger/fatigue, and take the damn 400-500 extra cals. :)

Since Tom needed to take the six days of vacation time he has accrued for the rest of the year, we had to decide on six long weekends or taking it all at once. I told him that since we didn’t have any projects going on that would take more than a day or two to complete, it was totally up to him. He decided on six long weekends.

Although it’s not always perfect, I still can’t believe there’s a program that will type everything I say. I would have killed to have this in the '80s and '90s.

I had a dream that some younger woman who was laying on a couch and about to take a nap and that has been a well-known celebrity of sorts, said to me as I sat on the edge of the couch, “I have millions of dollars yet I still don’t have it all in life.” I somehow knew that she meant that she hadn’t yet found love. I leaned down and hugged her and said, “Te amo.”

Then I dreamed we lived in a place with two floors. Tom and Andy were upstairs watching TV and I was on my way out of the downstairs bathroom to go up and join them when I spotted a big gnat flying around on the floor. I wanted to kill it before I went upstairs but it kept getting away from me.

I wonder if Bob’s been working on the walkway while I’ve been asleep this week, or if something up there is “conveniently” having him wait till I’m back on days again.

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 10, 2015 The blood has been drawn and the numbers are in, whatever they may be. I should know what they are before I see my endo on the 21st. What pissed me off was that they had an order in for a lipid panel as well. Really wish they’d told me this and that my PCP had been clearer to me on when she was having what done because I didn’t fast. The last time I had blood drawn I fasted because that was when she told me they were going to test for that, but they never did. Fine. I’m not interested in returning to statins any more than I want to up my levothyroxine dose. I just hate it when they confuse me like this because the only one put out by them not clarifying things, in the end, is me. Why don’t I just fast for every blood test I have? That way there’ll be no questions or problems.

Wish I had more to say other than that one communication rant paragraph, but I don’t. Nothing else is going on at the moment other than that my period was just 3 days late this time around, and that tomorrow I’m going to enjoy sleeping without the pressure of having to get up by a certain time. :)

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 9, 2015 My period is late, not surprisingly. I start to get PMS as if I’m going to be on time, then some of the PMS backs off and my period ends up late. That’s the way it has been lately anyway, and I’m guessing it has more to do with menopause setting in than my thyroid.

My dentist appointment went great. Janet left, though. Some older blonde lady has taken over as office assistant. Holly liked my rainbow dress and the doctor liked my hair. Holly cleaned my teeth and did a gum probe instead of X-rays. You want your numbers to be between 1-3. Last time I had some 4s (I hate that number). This time I didn’t have any, though. I only had a little bit of tartar buildup in the hard-to-reach areas. The dentist, who was thrilled to learn that I’ve been flossing religiously for the first time in my life, said she also flosses every day yet she too, gets tartar. I was actually wondering why she lost so much weight. She was always thin, but she almost seems too thin now, a serious rarity for a middle-aged woman who’s had three kids. She still seems healthy, though. Who knows, maybe she’s got hyperthyroidism.

I got another tube of Clinpro 5000, which is a fluoride treatment that I use at the end of the day in place of regular toothpaste. I use my regular toothpaste at the beginning of my day and that’s when I floss.

They also gave me my goody bag, which is going on the cruise with me. That would be a toothbrush and a small tube of toothpaste along with a small thing of floss. We both use electric toothbrushes. I have five regular toothbrushes right now, so between Florida and the ship, they will come in handy.

Since the cracked filling isn’t critical right now, we’re going to wait until next year.

Because it was very hot here today, we went to the pool when we got back. I was surprised at how chilly it was. Way too cold for us, so we hopped in the Jacuzzi instead.

I am way behind in editing my book. I’ve got to edit future books as each chapter is written instead of after the entire book is written. It might seem less overwhelming that way. I will go get some editing done soon… to the thump, thump, thump of distant car stereos. Hate that sound.

Later…

Andy said several people in his NA meeting dumped him and he wonders what kind of gossip is going around that they believe. It certainly could be false rumors and bullshit gossip, but did he ever stop to think that maybe it’s him? His trust issues in paranoia can really get to a person at times. A lot of people have problems with people like that or that can’t shut up, though I will say that when we spoke on the phone he didn’t ramble nonstop as usual. I was able to get a word in edgewise and he even asked me if I had anything to tell him before we hung up.

His weirdness and inability to tolerate those who are different than him might be a factor as well, but I doubt it. I think it’s just the types of people that go to those meetings. I’m not saying they’re all bad news, but I think Andy has always had a tendency to gravitate toward people he’s better off without just like I once used to. He said he doesn’t really want to be friends with them anyway because a lot of them have done drugs that he’d never again touch. I personally would never want to be friends with a former druggie or drunk, especially in person, in case they had a relapse. Drunks and druggies don’t just hurt themselves. Their addiction affects everyone around them.

He said he might take a cooking class or go see a shrink because God knows he could use one now. I’m glad that he at least recognizes he has a problem and is willing to do something about it. Never be afraid to reach out for help, I told him. Not sure the cooking class is a good idea, though. He’s already a pretty good cook, and that might feed his obsession, pardon the pun. He hasn’t talked food for the last few days as much as he usually does, but if I’m right about him having even the slightest case of a food addiction, then he should probably avoid food-related activities.

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 8, 2015 Tom was telling me how contradicting they’ve been at work, saying “no more OT,” and then asking people to stay late, especially him since he’s the only one in his department capable of doing his job. Then they say they want people to take more time off to use up more of their vacation time by the end of the year, LOL.

As I’ve mentioned before, my logic says we’ll be here till he retires, but that’s not what my vibes say. We were talking about how much we’d get from the 401K (about 15K) if he were laid off and how many months we could get by, minus unemployment, and how we’d probably just sell out and leave Cali if that happened. Well, I realized that that’s probably why my vibes don’t go with my logic; because very few jobs last 12 years (which is how long he has till he retires) without a lay-off. And they do lay people off once a year at his place. They just let some people go, so he’s safe for a while.

So we will enjoy what we like about both the park and the house until he’s let go, and then we will take that opportunity to escape the state we never should’ve moved to given how expensive it is and how many terrifying moments we’ve had here. Oh, those childhood dreams of mine I just had to chase, LOL. Only they never included poverty followed by medical drama. But yeah, my guess is that unless we win big bucks or sue someone silly, a lay-off will cause us to relocate before retirement does, but that’s ok.

I go to the dentist tomorrow, and then the lab on Thursday. Really nervous about my TSH score, but trying not to be. The numbers are going to be what they’re going to be, and well, I can say “no” to any increased dosages she suggests, can’t I?

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 7, 2015 Went out bike riding yesterday evening and could barely breathe when we got back. The day before it had been windy which stirred up pollen. I was wheezy and congested for the rest of the night.

At 9pm we went to Denny’s where I got a totally unhealthy and delicious meal of chocolate peanut butter pancakes, bacon, eggs and French fries.

Tom asked me if he thought I would want to go to the fancy restaurant on the ship. Haven’t really thought about it, as I told him. He said he doesn’t really care for fancy restaurants. To me, as long as the food is good, it doesn’t matter if it’s “fancy” or not.

After Denny’s, we stopped at Walgreens. I got new knee-high hose, Grape Shifter topcoat for nails, and another adult coloring book with flowers, butterflies, paisley designs, and stained-glass windows. It also came with six 2-sided colored pencils.

I had a dream that something really loud was running next door, and as I went to open the front door to see what was going on, a stairwell appeared before me as if we were in an apartment building. I headed down a few floors and looked out the window at an abandoned house across the street where a giant rat was moving about. Then I suddenly realized I was naked and ran back upstairs. On my way up I heard Virginia talking on a phone and saying, “Well, shit happens.” And then I heard her call my name. I threw something on in our house-turned-apartment, then went to talk to Virginia, only I had no idea which door to knock on.

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 6, 2015 Yesterday Andy told me he wanted to call me and that, “You’ll never guess in a million years who I just got off the phone with.”

I was frustrated at first because I hate it when people don’t just come out and tell me things. I jokingly said to him, “If it’s Stevie, I don’t care.” I’d be happy for him, but he knows I’m not into celebrities like he is.

He said if it was, he’d have already called me. My next guess was Shelley, but then I realized he wouldn’t get that excited if it was her since he’s pretty much gotten over her and her lack of interest in being his Godmother.

Then he gave me a hint by quoting a “famous” line from the edits I’d make of our days as prank callers. It still didn’t ring a bell, but my next guess was Fran’s brother Ricky. I guessed correctly.

I once wasn’t very picky and choosy when it came to friends, unfortunately, and didn’t do a very good job of filtering out those who weren’t quite right in the head. I was too tolerant and too forgiving. One of my “friends” was an older guy we dubbed “Nervous,” and a guy just a few years older than me named Fran. Both had emotional issues and both were outcasts, only Nervous was actually intelligent and reliable. He, unlike Fran, was independent and owned a car. Fran always lived in group homes. He was last living in an apartment where people like him lived and received daily visitors from their social workers. The social workers basically took care of everything… where they lived, where they worked, etc.

Nervous died of a heart attack in his 50s in the mid-90s, and I cut ties with Fran not long afterward. The final straw was when he billed long-distance phone calls to Tom and I. I’d basically had it with his lies and the grief he would give me. He’d steal little things from my apartment when I lived in Massachusetts where Andy currently lives, and well, there were just too many things that had added up to show that Fran wasn’t worth my time and that I had outgrown him. We all do stupid shit when we’re young, but most of us move on and mature while others don’t, and I knew Fran would always be Fran no matter what.

While I was still living back east, Ricky would join Andy, Fran and I on our prank-calling adventures whenever he would visit a friend. Ricky had a very fierce, commanding voice that would make for the perfect DJ. Using three-way, we would have him call and pick on Nervous.

Out of curiosity, I looked Fran up online as I do with almost everybody I’ve ever known at one point or another, and found he died in 2011.

So Andy wanted to chat live since we hadn’t done so since November. Even though I didn’t see the point since we’re in touch online every day, I know it’s not as easy for him to type, so he called at 8pm my time only to get a busy signal. My first thought was that he dialed wrong since as Tom said, cells don’t do busy signals. Then he got a message saying all circuits were busy. Finally, I called him and the call went through just fine.

It turns out that Ricky has been attending his NA meetings after 27 years of sobriety. They would chat here and there and he’s had his number for a while but hadn’t called him. The guy he wanted to sponsor him isn’t available, so he’s considering asking Ricky. Well, they got to talking on the phone when Ricky started mentioning his dead brother Fran. That’s when Andy started to connect the dots in his mind and ask Ricky his last name.

Then Andy said, “OMG, what if I told you I have you on tape making prank phone calls from back in the late '80s?”

At that point, Andy explained how he and I once knew Fran and the calls we would all make, and Ricky remembered everything. He did say, however, he didn’t want to hear them because he’s not like that anymore. This is no surprise. Most people do change after 30 years or more. Ricky, whose voice has changed a bit over the years, has been staying out of trouble and he’s an advocate for the homeless now.

He was the one who found Fran dead in bed, who apparently died of natural causes. Even though I knew I would never again want to resume our so-called “friendship,” I was always curious as to how he died. He had high blood pressure and diabetes, and he was obese. Andy said he didn’t feel it was best to tell me a friend died online and that was part of why he wanted to talk live.

“What friend?” I asked him with surprise. Despite his memory issues, which are both serious and annoying, I was surprised he didn’t remember that A, I cut ties with him years ago, and B, I was the one who told him a few years ago that Fran died.

Andy also told me that before Fran died he confessed to his brother about being gay. I clearly remember him being genuinely interested in some girls, though I always wondered if he could be bisexual. He was probably attracted to guys more often than he was to girls, but it was much harder to hook up with the same sex back then. It wasn’t as accepted, and the only place to meet was gay bars.

Nonetheless, Ricky assured Fran that he was still his brother and that he didn’t care about his sexuality. The only problem he had was when he stayed over at Fran’s place one night and Fran had a couple of guys over. Ricky slept on the couch and he awoke one night to find Fran’s guests getting it on on the floor right near him. I guess this made Ricky uncomfortable and he nearly got stabbed that night.

Anyway, we fixed my phone today. It somehow lost connection with the network and so we had to reset it.

I’ve had a sore throat all day and I don’t know why. Hot beverages and lozenges don’t seem to help, but my body’s kick-ass immune system should fight it off soon enough.

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 5, 2015 Made the rats an awesome hammock from an old, flattened pillow. I just used drapery hooks to hook the corners to the bars of the cage.

Not much else going on at the moment. I don’t know why, but there seem to be a lot of loud car stereos going down the freeway today. That’s usually something I mostly hear after 6 PM in the summer, so why it’s more obvious today is beyond me. Maybe because it’s windy. You even hear the traffic itself a lot more in the wintertime than you do in the summer.

I had a strange dream that we lived in one of two 6-story buildings consisting of apartments or condos for older people. I don’t know why, but we moved out of the ground floor of one building and onto the fourth floor of another.

A woman who lives there gave me a white rose in person and then added me on some social site online.

I swam in the pool and then turned and said to Simone, “I’m so glad you’re here. I’m just sorry we got rid of all your stuff.” Only Simone was solid black. I still miss that little devil at times and totally regret her not working out. Fucking asthma. I really wanted a pet that lives more than just a couple of years.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 4, 2015 Tom reminded me that around here a two-bedroom apartment wouldn’t save us much money at all. That’s true. It’s not what I really want either because then I’d hear shit day and night instead of just in the daytime. I just want to stop hearing blowers, hammers and saws nearly every single day!

Still getting in as good of shape as I can for the trip. Bumped my speed up to 5 MPH even though I said I wouldn't. I sprint until I've torched 15 cals, then rest for about half a minute and then burn another 15. I do this every half hour to an hour until I've burned 300. I also work my arms and abs. Should make climbing those rock walls on the ship a lot easier!

As I told my sister, I will never again order a nightgown in size L. What the hell was I thinking? If I had a twin I could stuff half of her in the thing with me!

Tom and his group won a pizza at work yesterday. There were 8 groups that had to make freestanding structures from newspapers. The one who had the tallest won the pizza.

They’re building a giant FBI building across from him, too. They’re even giving the street its own name. Something like Freedom Lane. I guess it has to do with some government motto or something. Yeah, they really gave us a lot of freedom for a few years there, didn’t they?

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 3, 2015 I don’t get some people at times. How can you complain that it’s mostly black people in prison when they’re the ones who are statistically responsible for committing most of the crimes in the first place? That’s like complaining that there are too many rapists in jail. Well, if they would just stop raping, there would be fewer of them in jail, wouldn’t there be? I just don’t understand why so many people have their heads in the sand where this violent, manipulative group of people is concerned any more than I’ll ever understand why they were so needlessly cruel to them 100 years ago. If you still think racial profiling is really that big of an issue, then wow, the blacks and media really have you brainwashed. My disgust for them is totally reasonable and justified as it is with the Muslims and I will never feel an ounce of guilt or shame for it.

I noticed that Norma was looking for Kayla’s Secret, a story I wrote several months ago and had on Blogger until I moved it. Wow, she would have had to scroll quite a ways down my wall to find that link, unless she bookmarked it.

Now that the guy on Prosebox has fixed some privacy issues, I was thinking I would make my storybook there public and just make the stories private that I don’t want to share. Then I will share the link on Facebook. I don’t want to share any links to Prosebox on other sites that Molly could see in case she becomes a problem again, though she probably already knows about my account there somehow, or could at least find out about it. Still, why make it easy for her?

Sarah sent me one of those stupid things that you forward to 15 other females so that something good would happen in 9 minutes, and all about God another superstitious stuff I don’t believe in, so I just ignored it. I don’t have 15 other females to send it to anyway, and I’m sure most of them wouldn’t appreciate it if I did. A lot of people hate those “chain letters.”

Virginia just took off for the second time in an hour or so. Unfortunately, she goes out a lot more than her husband does. Leave it to the quiet one to be the one to take off more often. I am seriously getting really fucking sick of hearing noise coming from over there every single day lately. But I found out what was going on and I was even in their house yesterday. No, he’s not beating out some new birdhouse.

When I went out to water the cactus plant on the table, Bob was right there. I mean literally right there between the side of his garage and the retaining wall. I asked what was going on and he said that he was repairing the bricks in the walkway running alongside there from the front of the garage to the back. He was beating on what looked like strips of wood and metal, but when I looked over the wall and down into the little walkway, I thought it looked beautiful, so I don’t understand what it is he thinks he has to fix. Tom said that years of rain can damage the cement. Well, I guess it’s a good thing it hardly ever rains here so that if he can ever finally finish this, I shouldn’t have to hear this particular project again for quite a while.

After I picked up our mail, I brought them a puzzle I didn’t want, preferring to go to their front door because I didn’t know if they would feel comfortable with me going through the garage. They do have the garage door open unless it’s at night or they’re both gone, but I chose the front door anyway. I called out “hello” and heard Virginia say to come on in.

I stepped inside, and wow! Their place looks pretty modern, even though I know it’s got to be almost as old as our house since they’ve been there since 1988. Obviously, they have remodeled it, and they’re just the type of people who would do that, too. Although Virginia said something about her place being white and mine being brown. “Not anymore,” I said and told them how we painted all the rooms a different color.

They have a very different layout than we do, making their place appear smaller than ours, but maybe it really is. It’s still gorgeous and it’s heaven compared to a dumpy old trailer. They also have a two-bedroom. We have a very open, spacious floor plan where you can see the living room, dining area and kitchen all at once. I had to step around the wall in order to see into their dining area and I could not see their kitchen at all. I couldn’t even see down their hallway as easily as you can see down ours. The place looked immaculate and not at all cluttered. Didn’t care for their ugly plaid couch, though, LOL. We have plain glass in the doors to our hutch, but they had cut, decorative glass that was really beautiful. However, I chose to use our hutch to display some of my doll collection and I wouldn’t want anything other than plain glass.

She and Bob were sitting at their kitchen table eating lunch. Looked like chips and sandwiches on paper plates which they were just finishing. I asked if they like to do puzzles, and Virginia said, “He does,” so Bob took the puzzle while I apologized for disrupting their lunch. They said I wasn’t disrupting them, but I didn’t stay long anyway. Then again, so what if I disrupted their lunch, LOL, when they disrupt my peace at times. Really, please tell me that this walkway project is going to be over soon and that we’re not going to go right into some whole new project that I also have to listen to despite the cooling temps. Even when he isn’t doing something loud, the general movement I hear from over there gets annoying and distracting… things sliding around, things clanking to the ground, etc. IDK, maybe we should just sell out and get an apartment. I mean, if we’re going to have to hear shit anyway, why not save a few hundred a month while we’re at it? I also don’t have much privacy sitting out there with him practically an arm’s reach away.

Fire and ambulance just went by but unfortunately, it wasn't because one of Bob's hands fell off. They came from further down the street.

Last night I had a dream that I opened a door somewhere and looked out into the corridor just as a woman stepped toward me, crying and rubbing her bruised wrist. Then I looked at the guy standing near her and knew he was responsible for it. I said, “If you ever do this to her again, I swear I’ll break your fucking arm.”

I slammed the door and turned around to where Tom and his family were seated at a long table and repeated what I told the guy. Instead of commending me for sticking up for the woman, I got condemned for swearing. They would do that, too.

Then I dreamed I was going on a cruise by myself, something I would never do in real life. Any kind of vacation by myself would be utterly boring. Vacations are meant to be shared with the one you love. But I was going on this cruise by myself in the dream when I realized the ship I was to be on that was present a second ago had suddenly disappeared. I asked this guy where the ship had gone and they said, “It’s over there now.”

My gaze followed where they were pointing and the ship was now a couple of hundred feet away. For some reason, I was desperate to get on the ship, and I literally dove into the water and began to swim toward it as the guy was shouting out my name.

Later…

I am so on the verge of dumping Andy! Really I am getting so totally fed up with the same old cycle of bullshit. Instead of any thank yous or gratitude for trying to boost his insecure spirits last night, I get insulted instead and now I am even accused of causing him to have dreams about his insecurity. So now I’m supposed to be responsible for his dreams as well as all this other shit he’s imagining? Maybe he’s having dreams of insecurity because he IS insecure. He himself said he was. I’m tired of this guy blaming everyone but himself for his problems.

I once read a long time ago on an old Twitter account of his under a bogus name something to the effect of “It’s okay to throw in the towel at times.” He’s right. Our friendship is getting to be a lot more work than it should be because I have to spend so much time reassuring him in correcting his misunderstandings, false assumptions and paranoia. I know some people think the whole world revolves around them and that everything is about them, but that isn’t so. The old Jodi used to fuss, fight, kiss and make up with certain types of people, but the Jodi of today tends to avoid negative individuals. No one’s worth the time and energy when there are so many positive people out there.

Supposedly I was leaving comments on Facebook pertaining to conversations I’ve had with God knows who in order to avoid a confrontation that is supposed to be aimed at particular individuals. Yes, some chats have inspired certain thoughts about which I have made statements, but there is absolutely NOTHING that bothers me about him that I haven’t already told him directly. The only difference between the two of us is that when I ask him politely not to do something or I point out that something in particular he does is annoying, he does it more, whereas I tend to respect and consider other people's feelings unless they’re asking something totally unreasonable of me or something I couldn’t possibly deliver even if I wanted to.

There are basically two reasons I’m getting fed up. One is because I’m tired of spending so much time having to defend and explain myself, and secondly, I don’t care for his personality. When I pull back and look at him objectively, and ask myself if he’s someone I would want to strike up a friendship with these days if we were just meeting now, there’s no hesitation. The answer’s a quick, “no.” We’re just too different these days. We used to have more in common, but it’s like nothing’s changed with him over the years. Yeah, he’s got his own place, he’s got his own business, he’s drug and cigarette-free, but he’s the same person I’ve always known… immature, selfish, accusatory, paranoid, insensitive, repetitious and very annoying at times.

Although they are mostly not his fault, his memory issues and his stupidity get old at times as well. I have to constantly repeat myself and explain things to him like I’m talking to a child. No wonder he’s never been able to acquire any real skills, though he was once an avid keyboardist. I just wish, as I’m sure he agrees, that he didn’t smoke pot for as long as he did. It has really stunted his maturity and his intellectual growth as well as fucked with his memory. Even cigarette smoke can lower one’s IQ/learning ability.

Unless I’m being just as paranoid as he is, it really truly does seem that he gets off on annoying people at times. IDK, maybe deep down in his subconscious, he’s hoping to drive me away. Some people are like that where they want to end a friendship but they don’t want to be the ones to do it. Well, again, I’m getting very close to being the one to take the honors because I’m getting frustrated. When I think of all the shit I’ve had to put up with from him over the last five years, it’s all starting to really add up. I only held on this long because I felt guilty for dumping him back in 1999. I realize, however, that I have the perfect right to decide who I want to be friends with. No one, including me, should ever feel obligated to be involved in a friendship that they feel their heart is in less and less as time goes on. I have a right to be with people I feel I’m more accepting, tolerant, positive, intelligent, and that I have more common ground with.

Had I known for a minute that he was going to say and do a lot of the things he said and did over the last half a decade, even though he has apologized for most of these things, I never would have contacted him five years ago in the first place. First he prank-called the shit out of us when we didn’t have money to spend on minutes to delete all the shit off our phone.

Then he insulted us in numerous ways online. He knew virtually nothing about why we haven’t had any contact with his family, yet he was making all kinds of comments in their favor as if he were an expert on the situation. The same with the freeloaders next to us in Phoenix. He knew some of it, but the things he said were incredibly cold. Just totally mean and cruel. Imagine, for example, that someone just raped you and then your best friend turns around, only knowing part of the story, and made YOU out to be the perpetrator, all the while defending them and accusing you of things along the way you knew absolutely nothing about. Yet I supported HIM 100% when he told me about his own past legal battles.

Imagine being told it’s sad that you don’t want to have more friends when it’s even sadder that you’re stuck having to clean toilets for just a few grand a year and even sadder that children die of cancer every single day. Really, if you cry tears for the happy, can you possibly have any tears left for the unhappy? All I know is that as soon as people start pushing me to be someone I’m not, I’m gone. No one has a right to sit in judgment of me any more than I have a right to judge them.

Imagine being called fat when you’re not that fat yet the other person is seriously obese.

Imagine being called an “excuse queen” for your sleep disorder when he has a sleep disorder as well (sleep apnea).

Imagine being laughed at and called a chicken because you have a driving phobia. See, that’s the wonderful thing about him… If he doesn’t have or understand a particular thing, then it can’t possibly exist. His way is the only correct way, in his mind. Oh, the power some people falsely flatter themselves with believing they have at times. Again, he has apologized for this and knows that I wish to hell I didn’t have this sleep disorder, but no one in this world has this amazing power and control over me that would cause me to lie about it. If the truth was that I really didn’t want to work, I would come out and say so. No one can spank or punish me for the truth. I’m not a child.

Again, he’s apologized for most of these things, but that’s not the point. The point is he did these things and it’s not something one can just forget even if you’d like to. Just the fact that he’s done this as little as a few years ago tells me how little his personality has changed over the years and just what kind of person I’m dealing with. He supposedly did some things as a form of revenge against me for dumping him back in 1999, and later claimed to regret doing this, saying that he had become anti-revenge. Yeah, but the snide remarks and taunts about my driving phobia, along with a few other things, came after our friendship had been re-established. I wish to hell I could jump in a car every day and go to work, even if it was to some nothing little job that paid minimum wage, but then again, do I really need to defend and explain myself to anyone? Even my sister once told me a long time ago… “When you know the truth and that’s all that matters.” Damn right!

I also get tired of him claiming how he loves to be unique in one breath while equating others to himself in the next breath, most of the time in an inaccurate way. If he’s miserable, then he wants the rest of the world to suffer along with him. If he’s jealous, then you are too. If he’s broke, then you are too. No matter how many times I have tried to tell him that he’s him and I’m me, it’s in one ear and out the other. Lately, giving him any kind of advice (I told him not dwelling on food so much might help when he was saying on Facebook how frustrated he is with not losing any more weight) is like talking to the wall.

To continue down the list of things that have pissed me off over the years, not only have I been called a liar when I have been telling the truth, but he has jumped the gun and made false accusations numerous times, and has even used pictures to offend and annoy me on Ask. Yeah, I wasn’t stupid. He sure thought I was, though, until I spoke up about it. So yeah, I can see where someone as paranoid as he is may think things are aimed at him. He admits that he has been very insecure this year, but people can only be so patient, understanding and supportive for so long before they finally throw their hands up in frustration and have had enough.

His lack of sensitivity and compassion says a lot about him as well. Then again, he’s kind of strange where that’s concerned. He can be as compassionate as he can be insensitive. He has provided coats for the homeless during the winter and has had cheesecake desserts sent to me to help take my mind off of the medical drama I was going through last year. At the same time, he rarely commented on any of my journal entries that covered those horrible times and believes that Robin Williams “chose” to throw it all away.

Sorry, but you are totally naïve if you believe there is a single person out there who is so damn happy they can’t stand it and can’t wait to “throw it all away.” I understand that it may be hard to accept and imagine that there really are medications out there like what he was on and like the Prozac I was on that can make you suicidal, but that doesn’t make it untrue. I can’t imagine living in Alaska. Doesn’t mean some people don’t. Anyway, some people can be helped, while unfortunately, some are beyond help just like when it comes to certain cancers and other things. I know the guy has a right to his own beliefs and opinions, but I prefer people who don’t think the way he does because they tend to have the kind of personality I prefer.

I’m no genius myself and I’m not always the perfect friend, but I would never defend my friend’s perps, or insult and pick on someone for a lifestyle that was harmless, or their fears and phobias. That was OMG kind of insulting, apology in the end for it or not. I hate people like him who expect to be accepted (for being gay and other things) all the while they think they have the perfect right to judge and critique others. Because he’s so miserable himself, it’s like he wants to believe that others are as well, saying he feels “sorry” for Tom and me because we choose not to have a lot of friends. Yeah, and we feel bad for a guy stuck having to clean toilets and who is forever single. Funny, that he should say this because as he himself admitted, he likes being a loner and doesn’t have many friends either. I don’t think that’s his choice, though. I think he has a hard time hanging on to people because he just doesn’t get along with most people.

Since Facebook shares our interactions with our other friends, I once saw him telling someone that guys can’t wait to get away from him when and he starts talking to them. Did he ever stop and think that maybe he needs to just shut up and listen for a while? If you came up to me with nonstop ramblings I’d want to get away from you, too. That was the one negative aspect of his visit. He went on nonstop about his celebrity fantasies.

As I told him, we all have our passions and obsessions, but most of us learn how to control them at least to a degree. First I constantly had to hear all about God and Stevie Nick’s, and now it’s nothing but food, food and more food. No wonder he’s not losing any more weight, older or not. He’s obviously developed a serious food addiction. Any idiot can see this based on how often food is on his mind and how often he mentions it. I have pointed out that this is annoying, and I shouldn’t have because now he is mentioning it more. Yeah, that’s how considerate my dear “friend” is at times.

He admitted that he’s been very insecure this year, but no matter how many times people try to tell him that all that matters is how he feels and what he likes/wants and that he should stop worrying so much about what others think, it doesn’t seem to help the guy. All I know is that it has to do with something bad happening when he visited family in Florida. I guess they are annoyed with his immaturity at times as well, including his hobbies. They call his imaginary band tours immature, and technically they are. Most people in their 50s don’t live in a fantasy world. But in the end, it is totally harmless and it’s not like he can’t distinguish fantasy from reality. Well, then again, that’s debatable if one person believes in God and the other believes that’s just a fantasy passed down from one generation to another as a means of coping with this thing called life. Still, it’s annoying and it’s immature, but it’s harmless. I think there’s something else going on I don’t know about. I don’t like to pry or make people feel like they have to tell me things they don’t want to tell me.

Yes, he’s immature, and yes he can be annoying at times, but I would rather be annoyed than cruelly insulted. Also, if someone can’t handle the little things we ask of them, I’d hate to see them try to take on anything big.

“Sounds like I’m about to get dumped,” I just saw that he said on our private Ask account. Is that what he wants? This isn’t the first time he’s said that, so this reinforces my suspicions of him trying or at least hoping that I’ll dump him. sighs with frustration At this point I’m not sure what I’m going to do, though walking away would probably be the smart thing. Again, I’m experiencing more frustration than anything else lately. Friendship shouldn’t be that way. Now I’m afraid to post anything on my Facebook wall viewable to him, knowing he may very well take it personally. Again, yes I’ve made comments inspired by conversations with various people, but that doesn’t mean everything’s aimed at him or all about him. I actually prefer to voice my frustrations about people on Twitter, though absolutely none of it is stuff I haven’t said to the person directly.

Part of me wishes I had someone to talk to about the situation who knows as much as I do about it, but the only one who knows a lot about it is Tom, and he doesn’t even know every little single thing. He’s always told me to do what I felt was best and never that he was leaning toward not dumping him or dumping him.

I also don’t think it’s right to go to others about your problems with people. I’m sure most levelheaded people would tell me the same thing… got drama in your life? Remove it. Got paranoia in your life? Remove it. Not that I would ever wish him any harm or that all problems can be removed easily enough from our lives. But not contacting him would be plenty simple. Oh, I’m sure I would get a barrage of emails and phone calls, and maybe even a postal letter, but I know how to mark email as spam without reading it, I know how to delete messages, and I know how to write “return to sender.”

Tom suggests not worrying so much about what he says and just ignoring any comments I don’t agree with. That’s not always very easy to do with him, but it’s better than being all or nothing. For now, anyway. Like he said, though, it’s easier to ignore 100 emails than just 1 person who’s literally right in your face.

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 2, 2015 My nail decals came in the mail yesterday. I like them a lot but they don’t last long. It’s one of those things that’s only good if you’re going to a party or some other event because, in less than a day, they start flaking off. There’re more raised than I thought they would be so even with a topcoat you can get a few hairs caught under them when you run your fingers through your hair, peeling the petals of the flowers off one by one.

I moved my laptop into the bedroom by the kick-ass sound machine shortly after 8 o’clock. As I was raising the shade in the window by the closet, I saw him go into the back of his garage, not surprisingly. I just never know when the banging will start. It has started as early as 8:30 and as late as 1:30. Really wish he would do this shit after 8 PM or before 8 AM because then I could do something about it. Then again, maybe he will be perfectly quiet today. The point of working in the bedroom in the daytime is so that I don’t have to know what’s going on and be distracted from what I’m doing. It’s good to be in here for other reasons as well. Once those leaves start coming down, they’re going to be out there with the flowers every single day. They don’t want someone slipping on a pile of leaves and suing them.

Worked out hard yesterday, but could only burn 240 of the 300 calories I planned to burn because my hips got stiff and then I got a cramp in one of my calves.

One thing I have learned about working out with Hashimoto’s (or any other condition that prevents you from losing more than just a few pounds) is that you will always look like you have more fat than you actually do. I was lying on my back and I had my right arm extended above me. My elbow was bent so that my hand was over the middle of my chest. Towards the left of the crook of my arm, just above the elbow, was a little bulge. I touched the bulge and clearly, it was muscle. But to an outsider, it looks like fat. When you have muscle underneath a thick layer of fat, all it does is push that outer layer of fat out. It’s very hard to tell just how much muscle I have, though you can see some of that in my shoulders, upper abs and calves.

One person mentioned their legs rocking from the knees down while above the knees looked frightening. I can say the exact same thing about mine, and even my arms. It’s like the lower part of my limbs doesn’t go with the upper part of my limbs. I have slender forearms with these sausage upper arms that look like they exploded on one end. My upper abs are somewhat flat while my lower abs look like they’re trying to run away from me or something.

LOL, Alison seems to be pretty convinced that I’m tracking Ask. I wish I could track that site as well as a few others. This explains why she hasn’t come around lately. I still think she was in on some of the trolling way back when, knowing I would automatically assume it was Kim or Molly.

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 1, 2015 My LiveJournal reader is back.

It wasn’t even 9 o’clock when Bob started his fucking hammering. Had a bad feeling about today too, when I got up. Maybe we should just forget Hawaii or Florida and just go rural again when he retires, getting a chunk of land in a cheaper state, which would probably have to be in the west somewhere. The closer we are to people, the more we hear them. Meanwhile, the guy is 86 years old. How many more years could he possibly have the strength to do this shit? I just don’t want them moving or dying before we do because I fear something a lot worse ending up over there. This isn’t the 70s. Noise is just as accepted here these days as it is in the mainstream. I dread the day they start allowing big dogs in the place and okaying them being left outside round-the-clock.

It seems the West in general has a totally different attitude when it comes to noise than the East, same as it does with dogs. Most people out here think it’s wrong to take a dog indoors while most people in the east deem it cruel to leave them outdoors 24/7. I spent 26 years in the East and almost the same amount of time in the West, so I am familiar with both cultures. It’s like it’s more “ok” to be obnoxious and noisy in the West. I mean, look at Tom, a native Arizonan. He doesn’t think Bob is being rude at all and says this is simply what people do (though Tom’s not noisy and no one else in our immediate surroundings is out there beating and banging on things). The West has more of a live-and-let-live attitude when it comes to noise. People expect it, they accept it, and complaining about it is like a sin. Well, my dear husband whom I love very much is entitled to his own opinion, but I find the racket very annoying and distracting, “normal” or not. People just don’t care, though.

Andy asked me if there was any way I could be just as noisy in return. Well, yeah, I could sit out there and beat a hammer or a stick or something on the patio table or blast my music with the door open, but I have better things to do with my time and I don’t care to be just as rude as he is. Would two wrongs really make a right anyway?

Instead, I unplugged my laptop from the 30-inch monitor in the living room and I took it into the bedroom. Because the living room is so huge it’s harder to mask sounds in there with the sound machine, unlike in the bedroom. The master bedroom is huge too, but not cavernously huge. It’s a pain in the ass because the laptop key functions are limited as opposed to my other keyboard, but this is the only way to escape it when I’m on days until he either dies or gets too feeble to do this. As mean as I know it sounds, part of me wishes he would have a stroke that would limit his mobility. But this guy has just as much strength, energy and stamina as a guy in his 20s. He still walks and rides his bike almost every day. Of all the lazy guys out there that would like to sit in front of the TV all day and do nothing, we just had to get stuck next to another project junkie. I’d be willing to bet almost anything that he and his wife don’t even own the computer. Maybe not even cell phones. The research I did on them shows they have a landline. I respect the fact that they’ve been here a lot longer than me, that they’re very nice people otherwise, and that the guy’s only got so many years left to do what he loves to do. I just wish it didn’t have to be at my expense.

I hate that it’s already September. We’re already starting to have highs down in the 80s again. Before the month is out I’m sure I will get to be a penguin or a leopard at night. Sounds scary? Relax, I’m talking about my 1-piece fleece pajamas. One has skiing penguins all over it and the other has a leopard print.

I’m usually good at figuring out my own computer issues, along with things I want to do, but when I can’t… It’s Tom to the rescue. The Kindle cloud reader doesn’t support a text reader, so he helped me find one that does. Now I have the option of listening to stories as well as reading them.

I have been setting my little windup timer to go off every half hour at which time I run at 4 MPH for two minutes, burning a total of 20 calories. I do this until I have burned a grand total of 300 cals, which is about 15 sprints and 30 minutes total. I also worked my arms and abs. I would like to have 1200 cals a day but I still usually creep up closer to 1500.

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parachutedreams · 2 years ago

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incalescentia:

conrad never regretted spending his “youth” with Odessa, despite the warnings from friends and strangers alike. He never understood the age limit people put on love. Not many people have the same example as his parents though. They were everything he wanted be, something he always bragged about. Parents married since eighteen and madly in love to this day. It was rare. They raised him to romanticize every aspect of his life, to be the gentleman, to create his own daydream… It kept his head in the clouds and his heart on his sleeve. He knew how to be sensitive and kind. But that was always the weakest thing about him. Though he never thought his wife took advantage of that aspect of him, he did feel like it held her back from being real with him. Just like her answer right now. It was calming and safe. It was one of the many things he loved about her, her way with words. He knew it wasn’t a lie because he felt the same way. But that was when they were a teenager. It’s what it was, not what it is. Still, for a second, it was refreshing to think about.

He thought surely he would smile back at her. He couldn’t. His expression was more of hurt. It wouldn’t be a surprise if tears came. He fought them back, not wanting to give that much emotion to Odessa. Not right now. It wasn’t the time. He shouldn’t have brought anything up at all.

“Is that the truth now, Dess? Because, if it’s not, I am not sure what we are doing here.” Conrad surprised himself with the anger in his voice. It’s not an emotion he felt often and it was suffocating. He needed out of this cab, out of this awkwardness. He needed to rewind to whatever moment changed them and fix it. Did he say something wrong? Did she find someone else? Did he stop putting in as much effort and didn’t realize? Was he boring? They were all the questions in his head since the day he noticed things changed between them, never daring to ask. That truth may be revealed tonight, that much Conrad knew, and he needed more time to live in his fantasy.

He tells the driver with confidence, “You can pull over here. Take the lady wherever she wants.” Conrad hands him a folded bill as he comes to a stop. He gets out. He can’t look at his wife.

Odessa barely had time to react before Conrad was out of the taxi. She froze for a moment, dumbstruck that he had just gotten out of the car and told her driver to take her where she wants. She closes her mouth that had fallen open in shock and looks at the driver who is staring at her in the rearview mirror as if she's a soap opera star.

"I'm so sorry," she said to him, giving him an apologetic look. "I'm going to get out here, too."

She scooted across the bench seat and climbed out of the door that Conrad had left from. The air was chilly against her exposed legs, and the ground under her feet felt unstable, though she knew the latter was because of what Conrad had just said. Shouldn't she want him to leave? Want him to be angry at her? Somehow, the thought of it was horrible to her, even though she knew he was right to question if it was the truth now.

"I don't want to go anywhere if you're not going, too," Odessa said, and she knew that it was the truth, at least in that moment. And she knew she couldn't bare the thought of watching him walk away, as selfish as that was. She was scared to leave, but it scared her more to watch him do it - even if she knew she'd deserve that.

"Can we go home?" she asked, nearly pleading. She looked down at the ground, not bothering to hide behind a soft smile this time as she sighed and looked back up to him. "We should talk."

#no worries! we can fix the formatting when you're on the computer #odessa; words #odessa & conrad #odessa

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this-soul-empty-yeet · 4 years ago

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Druck really hit us with this 12 minute masterpiece on a friday night and idk whether i'm more impressed by the writing or heartbroken for nora but the entire cast was killing it in tonight's clip

#druck #hell week #i am feeling Many emotions in this chilli's tonight

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dorothy-rainbird · 2 years ago

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Part 3

“You know, y/n is a very special person in my life. They found me, raised me, patiently taught me so many things…”

Kuni stared at the blue sky above him as he relaxed more under the giant tree of Windrise.

“They taught me about ‘good’ and ‘bad’, how to take care of myself and others…” he gently pat Bu napping away on his lap.

“Taught me how to handle emotions, how to deal with grief, manage anger, to open up…”

He continued,

“Everything, everything but one.”

…..

“They never taught me how to deal with this tingling feeling in my chest. It feels so strange…”

……….

“It’s as if I feel small around them. Am I scared of them? If I am then why do I want to be around them so much? Why so I want them to…”

“To..?”

“To h-hold me and….-“

“PFFT HAHAHAHA-“

“W-WHAT??” He managed to yell despite the embarrassment, his face was so red it looked like sunburn. Unfortunately because of that, Bu woke up. Realising they were being noisy, they quieted down a little.

“Sorry Bu, I didn’t mean to scream. Go back to sleep, Kay?” And so he did. Bu snuggled closer to Kuni, letting out a quiet “sqee” before dozing off again.

……….

“So Kuni…”

“Hm?”

“What I think you are experiencing is…”

“???”

“Love”

He was about to scream again but Venti shushed him in time, pointing at the blob on his lap. He nodded as Venti removed his hand and let him speak.

“You mean…love?”

“Yes”

“You sure it’s not some uh…something else? L-like something um..”

“Nope.”

“So…it’s like those novels?”

“wat”

“….”

“I um- *cough* uh…”

“Forget I asked”

“Gladly”

A very awkward silence danced among them as none of them felt brave enough to break it. Still, Kunikuzushi wanted to know more, so with one sharp inhale,

“If I’m in love with Y/n, then what should I do? Considering you’re the love expert of Mondstadt, any advice?”

“Of course of course! But for my advice so fine, won’t you invite me to dine?” Venti elbowed his arm with a smirk.

“Haha sure, Y/n will be delighted by your visit.” Kunikuzushi replied with a smile.

____________________________

“Thanks for visiting us Venti, but are you sure you don’t wanna stay over? It’s a little chilly tonight.” You stood by the door as Venti was about to leave. Yes Venti joined for supper but decided to leave earlier than usual.

“Ehe sweet Y/n, Don’t worry about me, I’ll be just fine! Take care everyone and thanks for the delicious meal!” Venti waved you, Kunikuzushi and your slime child goodbye as he began to turn around and leave. You couldn’t help but feel as if he winked at Kuni…did those two have something going on? Nah.

“Bye Venti, goodnight!”

_____________________________

“Tip 1: Compliment them”

You stood by the sink, doing the dishes. Kunikuzushi saw this as a perfect opportunity. He shared a look look at Bu, who gave him a nod of confirmation. Then, with a deep breath made his way towards you. Leaning on the counter beside you, he went,

“Hey has anyone ever told you that y-your eyes are p-pretty?” bruh he stuttered. Without taking your eyes off the sink, you went,

“Aw thanks”

????

Expectation: *flushed y/n*

Reality: often disappointing

_____________________________

“Tip 2: Leave them small gifts”

“Okay Bu, the first plan didn’t go as expected. Time to step things up a little.” Kunikuzushi said as he picked the most perfect Cecelia of his garden. Bu wasn’t paying attention though, he was busy playing with another plant in the backyard. Kunikuzushi approached him with the flower and crouched down to his level.

“Bu, my son, my child.”

“Squeak?”

“Can I trust you to deliver this flower?”

“Squeak!”

“I knew I could count on you :)” Kunikuzushi pat him with a bright smile. He then balanced the flower on his head, hoping it won’t fall off.

“Okay Bu, I want you to deliver this flower to Y/n. Please don’t drop it…”

“Squeak!”

And with that Bu entered the house.

Expectation: “Did Kuni give me this flower?” *flushed y/n*

Reality: Kunikuzushi entered the house after a while, expecting to see a lovestruck y/n. His dreams were brutally shattered as he saw you hugging Bu and giggling while kissing the top of his “head”.

“Aww Bu did you get this for me? You’re so sweet!”

@angryhope @hana-chie @twst-123 @depressed-bitchy-demon @milza12 @inlovewithwaffles @shizunxie @koi-chairowo @someone-with-wild-imagination @melodibells @franini @xiaosimper @kithewanderingme @tinykokomi @rinaxst @shizunxie @thetwinkims @mouchie @einnunnie @myahandhurts @arima26 @we-wo-we-wo @themistcherry @miss-tea-cza @etherisy @bigcandlesmolbrain @n8mareee @peachytears11 @esthelily @imyme20 @teal-clouds-sword @general-kuri @apyrose @campanula-rotundifolia @shoujishu @thebeanofdoom @mentallyunpresent @scaramouches-girlfriend @alicehasdrowned @genderfluid-insomniac @claymitch @night-shadowblood-writes2 @justakiro @valeriele3 @peter-the-pan @erosdevil @blockswon @missb00bs @a-single-pizza @that-boi-sus @gullantys @ekrii @astr4ray @angelkazusstuff @multifandomvoyage @hikaru-exe @forgotten-blues @perpetually-simping @coquettemaiden @kisuneasahi @kunisbeloved @nebulaera

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writingfool001 · 2 years ago

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It's Alright, Everything Will be Fine.

Author's note: This took a while and the other will as well since I was busy with summer school and making sure not to have a breakdown every couple hours. This is for the requester who asked for this, but also self-indulgence bc man, that shit was brutal for me, and it was not good for my health. Also, take care of yourselves and try to remove yourself from situations that give you high levels of emotional stress.

Prompt: Tucking reader's hair behind their ear to help them get it out of their face.

Pairing: Malleus X Gn! Reader

Warning: Fluff, gn! Reader, 2nd POV, reader has hair long enough to be tucked, Feeling overwhelmed

Papers scattered everywhere and books piled high at your desk as you read through one of many books needed for your project which you've been working on for the last week and trying to finish all the work before procrastination or exhaustion could hit. You have been cooped up in your room, trying to work while ignoring the small voice in the back of your head saying negative things.

Letting out another heavy sigh, you readjust yourself and tried to start reading where you left off a couple of minutes again before your vision became slightly blurry and you felt your face warming up. You look straight at the wall and take a couple of deep breaths, trying to stop yourself from breaking down, the got up to take a small break from the massive number of things you needed to do. You ignored a majority of the phantom voice that was screaming and picking at your anxiety as you walked away and closed the door behind you. You walk down the hall and the stairs, only the sounds of you footsteps could be heard softly in the silent atmosphere.

You head towards the front door and go outside, hoping that a small break will help you calm down, before sitting down as tears cascade down your cheeks. You brought your knees to your chest and rested your chin on top of them and bit your tongue in order to silence the cry that wanted to escape from your throat.

No matter how much work you got done, the finish line got moved and became more daunting as your anxiety did not help. You barely ate, slept, and went out due to the constant voice degrading you about how you weren't getting the task down and you were going to fail.

"Good evening my treasure," you froze as your boyfriend's familiar voice broke you from your small isolation.

"Hello Malleus, " you greeted back as you straightened yourself, while your bangs hid your puffy red eyes, and wiped the remaining tears away. "I didn't know you'd be taking a stroll tonight."

"Well, I wanted to check on you since you've been quite busy during this past week." He took a seat next to you, causing you to tense up a bit. "Oh, am I causing you discomfort?"

Fuck, he noticed.

"N-no," You quickly answer, trying to think of something. "Its just a bit chilly and I felt a chill up my spine, it's nothing."

"Well then, let me help you," He scooted closer and wrapped his arm around you before his hand guided you head against his chest. "Feel a bit warmer?"

"Yeah."

You relaxed a bit against him as you slowly started to melt, enjoying the calming aura of him before the small voice reminded you of your daunting task you left behind.

"How are your studies?"

"They're going alright." You spoke softly as your anxiety rose and could feel yourself ready to break down again. You couldn't possibly break down in front of Malleus, who's under way more pressure every day than you are right now. This face before you have to deal with leading a dorm, school, and not to mention, preparing for the crown that would come soon.

You felt your chin rise and a gentle hand brushed against you face as your hair was tucked behind your ears as your puffy tired eyes and few tears were now visible. You were met with an astonished expression from your beloved far as he held your face, gently within his hands and started to wipe away the falling tears.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't be breaking down over some stupid school work," you quickly apologized before trying to hide your face but couldn't since Malleus didn't budge.

"My dearest treasure…" He slowly took in your appearance and brought you closer as he engulfed you in a warm embrace, not letting you escape. He kissed the top of your head and rubbed you back as you slowly broke down in the loving embrace of Malleus.

You don't know how long you two stayed there as you told him about everything happening this week while tears fell from your face. During the entire time, he sat and listened while comforting you. He couldn't bear seeing you in tears and not taking care of yourself, especially after everything you've done.

"Look at me," He softly spoke before you looked up at him to see his signature soft smile. "I am so proud of you, and you have nothing to worry about because I know how determined you are. Now, you deserve a break without thinking about work."

He gets up and holds your bridal style in his arms before heading in the direction back to Ramshackle, ignoring your questions. You finally accepted defeat once realizing Malleus wasn't going to let you get back to work and rested your head against his shoulder then slowly started falling asleep and felt a soft kiss on your head before you fell into a peaceful sleep.

#malleus draconia x reader #malleus draconia #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x mc #fluff writing event #twst fluff

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saturnsstufff · 4 years ago

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The Empress pt.VIII

Weddings!! although I thought this was a lot apparently I was just lying to myself. There's just a lot of information I guess.

Warnings: swearing, mentions sexual activity.

When morning rolled around you were still in Techno's arms. Your head was to his chest well his his chin rested on top of yours, sheltering you protectively. Techno knew he couldn't stay in bed with you too long. He would have to get ready for the day and go to his office for a couple of meetings. But the way you held onto him made him want to stay. His thoughts lingered to last night. He almost wondered if the emotions from the night had heightened what he felt for you.

He couldn't help but smile to himself remembering how breathless the two of you were after kissing for so long. He was happy, knowing you were his left a warm feeling within his heart. He always had assumed from early childhood that he would end up alone. None of the court ladies would willingly go to him. Since he was a hybrid, he was just lowly frowned upon. He was always set up with girls for power, or for looks. So him knowing you willingly went to him filled him with utter pride. He knew you weren't the type to find power. You had voiced many times that you just wanted someone to call your own. Start a family and ease down in life.

His attention was drawn away from his thoughts as you slowly began to stir. Nuzzling your face into his chest more, longing to feel the warmth he offered. His arm pulled you closer. His frim hand rubbing your back gently. You were tired. After the long night you spent together you weren't ready to get up. Your mind fell to last night and you couldn't help but go pink and wonder if it was only a dream. Techno held you so close and was so loving in that moment. Nothing went beyond kissing, but for as long as you two were at it, you had a right to be tired. You still remembered how his hand held your cheek, then the feeling of his arm around your waist. All of it was just perfect.

You felt his nose nuzzle into your hair. His lips lingering loosely by your ear. "Good morning..." Oh he had a morning voice. His was even deeper than you could have imagined. You slowly fluttered your eyes open. Your half lidded eyes met with his gentle and loving ones.

"Good morning..." you said softly. You felt him press a ever so gentle kiss to your ear, making you smile slightly. He turned onto his back, wrapping his arm around you. Your draped your arm over him, moving your head onto his chest.

The rather chilly morning now felt warm and welcoming. If someone had told you months ago, you would be sleeping with the young Emperor, you most definitely would have laughed at them. Yet here you were, laying within his arms like a prized possession.

"I'll have to get up soon princess..." he said softly. Almost like he was telling himself rather than you. You rubbed your cheek on his chest to move some stray hair of yours away.

"Do you have to?" You muttered. Wanting to savor this moment like it was your last. A wide smile graced Techno's lips.

"Plan to keep me here if I do?" Now you smiled wide at his words. Securing your arms around him tightly.

"Possibly..." his hand moved from your back, up to your ear. Moving some of your stray hairs away from your face to behind your ear. Framing your face like a portrait.

He let out a light chuckle. His hand moving to rest on your back again, continuing to rub gentle circles. "Well if my Princess orders me to stay... I mean who am I, to deny her?"

You were back to the forge that afternoon. Hammer in hand as you worked a new sword for Phil. He had came in a while ago with one of his old worn blades. Far too weak to even be remotely saved. So with his permission you asked if you could just scrap this one and rebuild him a new one. He did stress he didn't want to over work yourself, but you explained it wasn't any bother.

Well you were working you didn't hear the steps that approached you. Far to lost within your own work to pay mind to everything around. "Mighty blade you have there" the voice was smooth as silk. Seraphina.

You couldn't help but jump in place. Your heart lurching at her voice. She gently chuckled at your startle. "Y...you scared me" you said turning to her with a weak smile. The sweat on your brow proved your work. Your hands, although gloved, were worn with time. Whether Sarah would admit it or not she did have respect for you, she could easily see why Techno had fallen for you.

"Sorry to hear, I didn't intend to" She said with a soft smile. Looking over what you had just crafted. "Technoblade was right, you make some pretty amazing things. Don't you?" She asked looking to you. You went a faint pink glancing your blade over.

"I think I do alright" she laughed, resting a firm hand on your shoulder. Her strength almost near Techno's. Almost. You set your hammer and the blade down. Removing your gloves to wipe your forehead.

"Your to modest. Everyone in the city knows you bested others. Your regarded pretty highly little one. I wouldn't doubt yourself" you nodded slowly. A soft smile on your lips.

"Thank you General..." her smile never faltered. She wondered about the room and leaned herself on one of the sturdy work benches. With her in front of you, you now fully realized the extent of her height. She was Tall.

"Technoblade said you would be his plus one to my wedding I hear." She said casually. You opened your mouth to protest incase she wasn't ok with it. "Don't get the wrong idea, I don't mind you being there. I actually came to see if you would like to be my Maid of Honor." She rubbed her neck a bit. "I don't have many friends... and there all men so.. I was curious if you were interested in the position” you offered a shy smile. You where honored of the idea, but you weren't sure if you should be at her day, seeing as you don't know her very well.

“Are you sure? that's a pretty private thing... I wouldn't want to intrude on that...” She lightly laughed. Her laugh was light hearted and soft. Showing she meant no harm.

“You wouldn't be intruding. I promise” you nodded slowly. After a bit of silence she spoke up again. “I see Technoblade is in a awfully good mood today” You went pink thinking over last night.

“O-oh?” She laughed again at you, not meaning it rudely.

“Mhn. During the war room meeting he was very light hearted” You tiled your head a bit. You knew techno had mentioned a meeting but not something as important as a war room meeting.

“There was a meeting? W-what about” you asked carefully. your brow slightly furrowed.

“Oh nothing important, it was just a casual meeting, we were mostly inquiring about the expansion in the north. Nothing to be worried about” you nodded slowly to her words. Trusting her on this since she had the military back ground. "You see the Empire is ever expanding, taking what land we can. There are a lot of villages out there in need of supplies. If we can reach them, we can help them." She was smiling. You nodded now understanding that the meeting was in good nature.

After about a month the wedding had finally come. Techno and you were still going strong with a loving relationship as well. After your night with him, it had just became a default thing to just retire to bed with him. Finding comfort with sleeping next to him or sleeping with your head on him.

It was the night before the wedding, Techno and you were lazily walking the halls together. Having just wanted to be within each others company again. Due to Techno being Emperor he still had his duties to the kingdom. Where he did cherish you, and put your well-being first. He still had to tend to his job.

With casual steps the two of you wondered into the ballroom. The room was prepared for the upcoming reception. The normal graceful room was now decorated to the highest standard. The accents of gold and reds keeping everything classy. In the corner the instruments lay waiting for the day they are used.

You were all smiles, the night had went perfect so far. You did mention not knowing how to waltz at dinner. Which made Wilbur laugh at you until tommy took his dinner roll. Techno and Phil didn't mind however, they said one of them could teach you if would have liked. Of course when Techno showed interest, Phil backed off.

To which that led to tonight. The two of you smiling within each others arms. Techno had walked you to the middle of the room for a wide space. "What if I step on your foot?" You asked giggling gently.

He chuckled amused. "Then you step on my foot, its not a problem" he was light hearted. Wanting to make the learning experience fun and gentle. His hands moved to his hair, skill fully pulling it up into a full bun. Wanting his hair out of the way completely.

His hand came and rested on your upper back, pulling you close to his body. He didn't hesitate to move your hand to his shoulder and take your free hand within his. "The movement is simple... We'll start slow and then pick up the pace, ok?" His soft smile put you at ease. "You don't have to get it completely. But I think you will catch on quickly"

You nodded to his words. He had faith in your learning ability. Knowing you were capable of more than you thought. He made his first step to the left. "Ease up and flow like your water" you couldn't help but look down to your feet. Wanting to make sure you didn't step on his foot. "Step forward" he said as he stepped back within sync. "Now step right... and then step back." You nodded slowly. Your eyes minding his shoes. "Princess... I would like to see your beautiful eyes..." he discarded your hand to lift your head. "Your too beautiful to gaze at the floor" with a small smile he kissed your forehead. "The dance revolves around a box step... lets try going in a fluid motion now..." He was talking slowly so you understood. Not trying to talk down and make you feel uneducated.

The casual steps continued. Slowly picking the pace up until you two were gracefully sweeping along the floor. He kept your eyes locked within his. Once you had done the steps for a while he did become more daring. Choosing to lock you within his arms before spinning you. He had even dunked you to capture your lips into a loving kiss. Emperor or not, he was a true romantic by heart.

Once you were slightly panting from the dancing he choose to take a spot on the piano bench with you. You leaned into his side, his arm coming to wrap around you. Rubbing your arm. You adored spending time with Techno, he always gave you a comforting feeling. When you first met him he was definitely aloof and standoff-ish but now he holds you as close as he can manage.

The two of you sat in silence together, collecting your breath. The moonlight shown down on you both, Illuminating you two as if you were the stars of the show. You gazed down at the piano keys wanting nothing more than to pluck a few keys in curiosity.

Techno must have saw you glance the keys over. "Do you know how to play?..." you shook your head gently. Plucking some of the low notes to see what tone they had.

"I've never even been around one..." your fingers danced lightly. Having herd the harder you tap the louder it is. You looked up to Techno curiously. "Can you play?" You knew it was probably rhetorical, but you asked regardless.

"Of course, my mother taught me. I haven't played anything special in ages, but I still know Moonlight Sonata, or Clair de Lune." He said casually looking over the keys.

You rubbed your cheek on him a bit. Getting comfortable within your spot. "Could you play for me?..." he smiled lovingly before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. His lips lingering gently as he mumbled a 'Of course'.

His hands ever so gracefully took there spots over the keys. Even without his glasses he knew where the keys were. He started a song you weren't quite familiar with, but it was ever so gentle. Everything techno did was done with elegance. Even playing the piano had you completely smitten with him. He was graceful yet he lurked with almost a unknown danger. You knew that he cared about you just as you cared for him. There wasn't a day that went by that he wouldn't ask if you were ok. He would even check to assure you were wearing your earrings, fearful that you would be taken from him too soon.

Unlike boys within the city, Techno did keep his lingering kisses and more specific names for you behind the closed doors. Choosing to not show his gentle side to those outside his close circle. The truth was you were his weak spot. Yes Wilbur and Tommy were his brothers, but he knew Phil would lay his life to protect them. Techno knew he would lay his life to protect you.

With the gentle tone of the music you were slowly being lulled into a ever so soft sleep. When your head rolled for a final time you were out.

When you woke, you were back in techno's bed. Your hand lingered to his side, trying to feel for where your lover was. His side was empty but lingered warmth. With no trace of him you turned towards the bathroom door to see maybe if he had made a quick run. Instead he was looking at his mirror. Pulling his shirt up his arms. His back was on full display. Showing every lingering scar and muscle beneath his skin. When he moved his arms back, the muscles relaxed and tensed, Showing them pull against the white shirt. He must have caught your lingering gaze, because he spoke softly.

"Good morning my dear..." your eyes flickered up to him as he turned to face you. He lazily walked over and sat on your side of the bed. With a careful hand he moved some of your hair away from your face. His fingers traced lightly down your cheek. "You fell asleep early last night... I figured you would have been more comfortable here..." you nodded slowly. Still trying to fight off the remints of sleep. "Your dress should be in your room..." the dress? You then remembered today was General Hawthorne's wedding. Per her request you were her maid of honor.

Although you and Techno slept together, he still respected your privacy on dressing. Not only that, but what you didn't know, was that he purposefully never took anything too far for fear of rumors spreading about you. Seeing as the court would run with any sly rumor they could get there fingers on. The last thing he wanted, was to hear your name with 'Whore' or 'Prostitute' near it. If Techno choose to marry you in the future, he knew he would have to do his best to keep your name clean. Of course if you were Empress it wouldn't matter what they would say, either way your word would be law. But still, he wanted to make sure his Princesses name stayed out of other men's mouths'.

"You should dress and go to Breakfast... I don't know when we will be eating next" you reached out and took his hand. Pulling it close to your chest. You wished nothing more than to cuddle down with him and lay the morning away in peace. He was warm, and you knew as soon as the covers were removed you would be cold again.

Even with his hand to your chest he leaned down and smiled gently before giving you a sweet, gentle kiss. Since you were still a bit sleepy, the kiss was loose on your behalf. Techno didn't mind though. To him the thought behind it meant more. When he parted you slowly sat up, knowing it was time to start your day. You discarded his hand to rub at your face, trying to make yourself fully coherent. When you finished he gently took your hand into his.

His sweet side was pushed away a moment for his concern to come through. "(y/n)... About tonight... Your going to meet some people from the court... You might think I'm overreacting.... But please, trust me on this... Make sure Phil, Wil, Sarah, or I is around when you speak to them..." your brows furrowed slightly as he rubbed your hand.

"Why?..." you asked confused by this. You haven't herd much about the court besides them trying to set Sarah and Technoblade up together.

Techno gave out a bit of a sigh. "They.. they have a way of backing people up into corners to make them say what they want. The last thing I want is them backing you into a corner. You may say one thing, and they will twist your words into something more. They live for scandals and power." With his hand moving to rest on your cheek, you leaned into it. Resting your hand on his so you could press a kiss to his palm.

"I can handle myself love..." you said softly. Trying to put him at ease.

"My love, you say that. But because you're so close to me... Because you sleep with me nightly... You will be there prime target..."

With the vows having been exchanged at the church, the reception was held within the ballroom. Per Techno's request you stayed close to him. Next to the lovely brides, and the Royal family, you stuck out quite a lot.

The buzz of the room danced between the talk of the general finally being married, and Technoblade having a pretty little thing on his arm. When Techno off hand mentioned you being a target, you didn't realize that this is what he meant. The lingering eye's, the longing stares, the pointing. It made you uncomfortable. Even with Techno holding your arm you felt small and confined.

At the beginning you assumed the whole day would be about the brides. As it was their day. But even two hours into the reception, the glances and whispering continued. Soon it just became too much, you had to excuse yourself. Techno noticed your uncomfort, but sadly he couldn't leave. With a pleading look to Phil, he came over without hesitation.

"What's the matter?" He asked, his brows furrowing slightly. He glanced from Techno to you. You went to say nothing, but Techno quickly intervened.

"Could you take her for a walk for me?... She's highly uncomfortable and you know who, won't take their eyes off her" he said lowering his voice as to not perk the attention of lingering guests. Phil's eyes narrowed as he glanced around. His eyes meeting someone, but you couldn't see whom.

"Oh great I didn't know that bastard was here" Phil seethed. Whoever they were talking about, they obviously had a high distaste for. "C'mon kiddo I'll take you out to the balcony" Phil said, offering his arm with a gentle smile to you. You nodded and changed off men. Fallowing Philza to wherever he would lead. Subconsciously you did keep close to his side. His wing hovering about you, offering almost a shield to wondering eyes.

Once outside on the balcony Phil had sat by you on one of the stone benches. Giving you some space incase you were not in the mood for general contact. "Too much at once?" He asked softly. You nodded slowly.

"Techno mentioned I would be a topic... But I thought they would focus more on the brides.." Phil took a chance and rubbed your back reassuringly like your father would have.

"Sadly with you being Techno's plus one... You are a big topic" you looked up to Phil with a bit of confusion on why.

"Why?... isn't he allowed a date?" Phil nodded and ran a hand over his hair and down to rub at his neck.

"Oh he is. But tha' thing is Techno hasn't ever taken interest in anyone really. For every girl he was set up with he would just ignore them until they begged their fathers to reconsider. This is the first time the public, and the Court has seen Techno interact willingly with a woman." You were a bit surprised. Techno always struck you as having past relationships and having a bit of experience under his belt. But it appears you are his up to date experience. Phil slowly started again. "The Court is eager to see how your relationship with Techno evolves. And sadly my dear, your now in the spotlight by quite a bit. If you don't work out for Techno, they will be looking to set you up with someone else. They way they view it, is if you could woo the stoic Emperor, your either sexually involved with him or are just genuinely interesting." He paused to look down at you. "Techno, Wil and I know that your just a genuinely, interesting gal' with a kind heart. But the public doesn't" you pondered on Phil's words carefully.

"So as long as I'm with Techno I’ll be watched?..." you asked slowly. Wanting to make sure you herd his words correct.

Phil nodded. "Watched, judged, you will become a popular topic. They will critique you until you marry him or until you fall apart." The idea of being bad-mouthed by others left you a bit saddened. "If you become Empress, they will be forced to shut their mouths'. Disloyalty to the royal family within the court is punishable by death. However, say you part off in the end better as friends, they will double their insults, or maybe lessen them as they try to set you up with others." You took a longing breath. If this is what Techno faces on the daily, you could see why he was always drained. "Luckily in your position, you have control over your fate. They cannot talk and bribe your family into marriage like the court normally does." You looked up to Phil.

"Why is it like this?... Its wrong..." Phil gave a rough sigh. Rubbing his neck.

"I.. I genuinely don't know (y/n)... Neither does Technoblade... Even when I was king it was like this..." the silence lingered for a bit before Phil added on a bit. "The Empire is forever growing, but its also severely flawed" you spotted Techno within the room, talking to Sarah. She laughed joyfully, as she should on the beautiful day. "Techno and I have been working with General Hawthorne to try and straighten out this mess for years. Sadly we haven't found anything yet..."

With a spurt of unknown confidence your tone changed. No longer saddened and hesitant.

"I know Technoblade will fix it. Or, he will be the one to destroy it all."

@goldensunshineshit @snobunns @olyink @lolitsellieletsgobro @jackalopedoodles @angelic-scent @coolleviauchihadreamerlove @artsimatsu @justabalroginthenet @seme1e @fangirl570 @sweeetteaa @awlawdtheycoming @idkwhatusernametohave @sugarandspicebutnonice @bambibunz @lynn-draws-blog @buzzybeebee @feathersthewinged @prefesro @astroninaaa @ravennightingaleandavatempus @lifestylesleep @straydog265 @happygalaxymilkshake @vixenfoxpup @truthdaze @alovestruck-fool @justthatfangirloverthere @itscaity-c

#technoblade x reader #technoblade x you #techno x reader #techno x you #TE

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lunartaeilx · 2 years ago

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Free - Bang Chan (angst)

TW // blood, accident, implied death

a/n: I am so sorry all I seem to write is angst lol, its just what inspires me the most

This is another part of my song-inspired stories. This one was inspired by the song Free by Kevin Oh as well as Empty by Car The Garden :)

(also there is a part in here that I know was a different member (not chan) but it was the only thing I could think of lol)

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It had just been a normal day, Chan went to work, stayed there for the majority of the day (and most of the night). He was exhausted, but finally heading home. It was too late to catch the bus, because the last one had already run. He was too broke to catch a taxi because he hadn’t quite made it in the entertainment industry yet. Because of this, he had to walk the few miles of dark street back to his dorm. Right now, most of his days consisted of training with the boys during the day and making music at night; sometimes with Jisung and Changbin, sometimes alone. Tonight had been one of the times that he was alone.

While walking back he thought of everything that he had done today, including the fight he had gotten into with the boys (which is why he happened to be alone tonight). He was not in the right frame of mind, it felt like he hadn’t had a break in months. Bang Chan was the hardest worker that anyone could ever imagine, he made so many sacrifices to put his team first. Sometimes, because of this, it was easy for him to feel overwhelmed and depressed. Tonight was one of those times where he wished he could be with someone, he wished that he had just chosen a normal life. All he wanted was to go to his home in Australia and laugh with his family and eat his mom’s cooking. He wanted to have a normal job, normal hours, and freedom to do whatever he wanted without having to think of others first. He just wanted it all to pause, if even for a second, he wanted it to stop.

He passed under streetlights, illuminating his path in small sections as he walked. It was a cool night, a little too chilly for just the t-shirt and sweatpants he was wearing. He put his earbuds in and kept walking, hoping that music would help to dull the darkening feeling of his heart. Instead, he found himself listening to songs which only worsened his mood, not feeling up to listening to happy-go-lucky pop music. He knew he had to get his sadness out before he got home, because he didn’t want to become a burden on the boys. They were going through enough already, and he didn’t want to weigh on them even more. So, he let the sad songs play, hoping that his emotions would run their course and he would be fine by the time he got home.

Chan shivered in the cold, realizing that he had left his hoodie on the back of his chair, which was why he was freezing. He considered going back to get it, but decided not to, because he had already come almost halfway. He gathered his arms to his chest and kept on his path. When he came to the crosswalk, he pressed the button and diligently waited for the sign to change, telling him it was safe to cross. He looked to the left, and to the right, not seeing any cars, and he began to make his way across the street. His emotions were blinding him, his mind was hazy from feeling so much, all at once. He turned the volume up on his phone, hoping to drown his thoughts out even more, which is why he didn’t hear it coming.

Until it hit him.

It was as if he was under a spell as he laid in the road, alone. The driver that hit him had sped off in a hurry, hoping to not get caught for what he had done. Chan could feel his systems starting to fail, he could taste the blood bubbling up into his throat. There was no one else around to help him, no one to call the ambulance, no one to save him. He couldn’t move, he could barely breathe, it was as if the universe had known what he was thinking.

He began to smile because finally, he could get a break. He thought of his members, and all the good times that they had shared. He remembered how they had always felt like family to him, even from the very beginning. All of the crazy late nights spent on the floor of the practice room eating takeout and talking about life. Every time Minho had gotten mad at him when he didn’t remember the names of his cats. Every night he had stayed up with Changbin to convince him that what the haters were saying to him was a lie. All the times that he had stayed in the practice room with Hyunjin helping him practice their choreography so he could be confident in his own abilities. Every time he had held Jisung when all he could do was sit and shake and cry from his anxiety. Every card game, rocket league match, and time he had spent crying about missing Australia with Felix. Every day he had spent with Seungmin in the studio, helping him to practice his vocals so he would be confident. Every time he had babied Jeongin and reassured him when he made mistakes, and how proud he had been to watch him grow up.

Every memory he had with them ran through his mind, the good and the bad, the times he had given up his own desires for those of his members. He coughed up blood, beginning to feel the pain his body was enduring. The shock of what had happened was starting to wear off, but it still couldn’t take from Chan’s high. He knew in his heart that he wanted this life, he wanted to live. All he wanted, now, was to be the leader for his team, even if it meant never getting his own way. He wanted to see the boys grow up, he wanted to grow with them. He knew he wanted to live, no matter what, but it was too late. As he laid on the road, music still playing in his ears, a smile resting on his face, he knew it was over. The memories playing like a movie in his head began to fade, until they were a pitch-black nothingness, as if they had never existed at all.

#stray kids #stray kids angst #angst #bang chan #skz #bang chan angst #sad #jyp #chan

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marktuansvevo · 4 years ago

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got7 reacts to something theyve never experienced before in a relationship

warning(s); slight cursing, sexual content in bam’s part

mark; being jealous

mark understood why his past partners could be jealous of him in his line of work. as long as it didn’t get out of hand, he thought it was cute. he was never the jealous one in the relationship. he didn’t even know what jealousy felt like....

....until tonight.

you were mark’s entire world. you excited him, you built him up like no other. never before could he see himself spending his life with someone before you came along. you made the world brighter to him.

but now he was only seeing red.

you had been a trainee and never debuted, which you weren’t too upset about, you had a boyfriend you loved and a career with less physical and time demands than being in the entertainment industry. this meant that you knew a lot of other bands, stray kids being one of them. chan was, quite frankly, your best friend during your trainee days, so when you saw him at this afterparty you were attending with mark, you threw yourself into his arms.

mark just watched you from afar.

and his blood boiled.

chan spun you around in his arms, the biggest smile on his stupid, handsome face. “yah!! y/n! mark didn’t say you’d be here.”

you giggled, trying to keep your tears at bay. you put your hands on his face, poking his dimples. mark scoffed at the blush that was forming on his friend’s face. “god, chan i missed you so much.”

“bro, you look constipated,” bam snuck up behind him. “dude, your face is so red right now.”

mark rolled his eyes. “these parties are so annoying.” he didn’t take his eyes off of you as you caught up with chan, who still had his hand around your waist.

bam followed his line of vision. “shit, you’re not constipated, you’re jealous. yugyeom, come look at him!”

mark walked away from his intoxicated friends and up to you. you smiled at him before returning to your conversation with chan.

“y/n, we have to go,” mark said lowly, smiling a sickly fake smile at chan, who immediately dropped his hand from your waist.

“why, baby, we just got here? are you not feeling good?” you asked. he wanted to feel bad, your voice was laced with concern.

“something like that. see you, chan.”

as you got in the car, you smiled at him, poking his cheek. “somebody’s jealous, huh?”

“huh? of chan? i don’t know what you’re talking about,” he clenched his jaw, not making eye contact with you as he steered his car out of the parking lot. you were giggling now.

“you’re cute when you’re jealous. maybe i should make more time for chan.”

“y/n!!!”

jaebeom; wearing disguises in public

jaebeom never thought he would have to dress up in a disguise to go out in public. and jae would never want to put you in such a position. it was draining, and you, as his girlfriend knew that he despised it.

but you wanted to go to a concert with him.

and you wanted to stand in the pit with him and be part of it. don’t get you wrong, you loved when he bought you suite seats or could watch his shows from backstage, but you wanted to sway to ariana grande in th pit with your boyfriend.

“cmon, jae, i think everyone is going to be paying attention to ari. we can skip the opening act?” you suggested.

“y/n, i don’t want to take a chance...im sorry,” he pouted at you. you sighed, trying to figure out what to do.

“what about disguises?” he said. “like, we could wear our halloween costumes?” you were giggling to yourself, but your boyfriend seemed like the idea.

“i could wear my jesus wig and you could paint a beard on me?” he said with serious eyes.

“jae, you hate going out in disguises.”

“true...but, babe, this will be fun. you could wear your sailor mars wig, it’d be cute,”

okay, this was a really cute idea and you were warming up to it...if it made your boyfriend more comfortable to be out in a crowd of so many people, you were down to try it out.

“this really feels like halloween in july,” you giggled as you used mascara to draw a beard on his chin.

“do I look like jesus??” he asked childishly.

“well, you don’t look like im jaebeom of got7, that’s for sure,”

“you look like an egirl,” he laughed at himself. “don’t hate, you know you love it,” you said. “we look so cute, let’s take a mirror selfie and post in later,”

“no, then people will be on to us,” your boyfriend sent a pout in your direction as he looked at his makeshift beard in the mirror. “I look sexy as fuck in a beard,”

“super sexy aegyo please?”

the two of you arrived at the arena, not be noticed by anyone, but jae was still on edge, so you held his hand tight as you made your way into the pit.

“im so excited!!” you shouted over the noise. he shook his head before leaning in to kiss you. the two of you danced the whole night away to arianas crooning, his arms around you as you swayed to her pretty, soothing voice. the two of you let the world fade away while ariana sang honeymoon ave in the background.

jackson; his significant other saying ily first.

it was no secret that jackson was stock full of love and kindness. he had had other partners before you, all with him ending up getting too attached, or scaring them away when he said “I love you” too early.

he did not want to scare you away, and honestly, he had known he loved you two months into dating, but he didn’t want to scare you away, so he never outwardly said those three little words to you.

he wasn’t expecting you to say it, first though.

you had invited him over for dinner and a movie, just wanting a chill night in with your boyfriend. he brought the wine and promised to give you a back massage, so really, what more could you want on this chilly thursday night?

“what’s been going on, honey? you know you can tell me anything,” jackson whispered into your ear as he helped you out of your clothes.

“I feel like I deserve to oversee my department at work. i have the most education of all of them, more experience than them, and generally, I am more optimistic than my superiors….,” you sighed, letting him rub just under your shoulder blades, which had been itching all week.

“mmm?”

“i think they might be scared of powerful women who like to wear hot pink fendi suits to work,” you smiled, knowing he would be offended at your joke. you could almost feel him pouting.

“so the reason you can’t get the job is because your superiors don’t like the suits your boyfriend buys you? wow, what a way to hurt a guy’s pride…,” he followed your lead on the joke, trying to make you laugh because he knew this was really getting to you. “baby, I think you should go to their boss and see if you can get a promotion…tell them everything you told me, okay? i know you’re not only the best woman for the job, but the best person for the job…period,” he said, making you feel so overwhelmed with emotion. none of your previous partners had ever revered you the way jackson had. you felt so incredibly blessed and in love, you couldn’t help yourself.

“god, jackson, I love you so much,” you whispered.

the movement of his soft hands on your back stopped abruptly at your words. ‘oh god, was it too early to say that?’

“j-jackson…im sorry-“

“ive been waiting to say that to you,” he breathed against your lips, closing the distance that was between them.

“jackson wang….you love me?” you could feel the tears building. the man of your dreams was in love with you, too.

“i love you,” he whispered reverently.

“say it again,” you begged. he said it like a mantra.

“i love you, i love you….i love you..”

jinyoung; moving in together

jinyoung thought you were so cute. you were ecstatic to move with jinyoung. you had been living in your shared apartment with your mom your whole life and we’re excited to start a new chapter of your life. jinyoung didn’t think you were taking in the fact that moving is one of the most stressful things a person can go through.

he didn’t want to rain on your parade, though.

the two of you got settled into your new apartment after a long day of unpacking. jinyoung kissed you as you laid onto your new king sized bed. “im gonna grab takeout, you want your usual?” he asked sweetly, squeezing your hand. you just nodded, squeezing his hand back.

you watched as jinyoung walked out of your shared bedroom. that’s when the dam broke. you were so overwhelmed. you didn’t know how to make warm water happen in your shower, you didn’t have your wifi set up, and you forgot your favorite teddy bear at your moms. you missed teddy and your wifi and your mom.

“hey, i ordered you two egg rolls and they gave us three - hey, baby, are you crying?”

“no,” you replied lamely. “I miss teddy,” you wailed miserably.

“teddy...the...stuffed bear?” he asked.

“i slept with him every night for the past 20 something years.”

“baby...we can get your bear in the morning...,”

“we don’t have netflix set up so how am i supposed to sleep tonight?”

“y/n...,” he chuckled. you frowned harder now that he was laughing at you. “moving isn’t as exciting as it looks. tomorrow, we will fix the wifi, okay? and we can visit your mom and rescue teddy.”

“okay...okay. im sorry, im just a bit overwhelmed,” you confessed.

“its gonna be okay, honey. it’s a lot to take in, i know. but you can hold me instead of teddy, and ill sing you to sleep,” he whispered, the takeout now long forgotten. before you could fall asleep, he pulled his iphone out of his back pocket and pulled you into his chest to take a selfie. “there. now we have a picture of us in our bed for the first time.”

“i love you, you sap.”

even though you called him the sap, the next day you went to the pharmacy to get the photo printed and frame it. when jinyoung came home from the market that day, he eyed the frame on your bed stand, smirking at you.

“oh, so im the sap, hmm?”

youngjae; picking up the tab

it was the first date the two of you had been on since youngjae had been on tour. he told you to get dressed up and that the two of you would go out for a fancy dinner and catch up on everything. this is why you loved him, because while you wanted to hear all about his stories of life and tour abroad, he always wanted to hear about everything that was going at home, to see if you were alright.

youngjae looked dazzling in a black checked suit, while you matched him with a little black dress that made him groan when you stepped out of the bathroom. “can we skip dinner?” he’d ask cheekily. you rolled your eyes at him before kissing him on the cheek. “we aren’t skipping dinner, and we definitely won’t be skipping dessert,” you winked before leading him to the car.

the two of you ate dinner together, him holding your hand and looking at you with stars in his eyes as you told him stories that had happened while he was away. you ordered appetizers, drinks, shared an entrée, and youngjae even ordered you a slice of apple pie for the two of you to share.

“baby, I’m going to go use the restroom,” youngjae said before kissing your hand. “’kay, don’t get mugged, please,” you teased him. he shook his head at your playfulness. you watched as he left before frantically waving your arms at your waitress. she ran over to you, checking if you were alright.

“I just wanted to wonder if I can pick up the cheque really quick? I wanted to pick it up for my boyfriend as a surprise,” you spoke in a hushed tone, making the waitress giggle. she nodded her head before handing it to her. you handed her your credit card, thanking her before your boyfriend had any suspicions of what you were up to.

youngjae came out of the bathroom as soon as the waitress set the cheque down. you were applying your lipstick so you couldn’t snatch it in time. you watched as his pretty brown eyes scanned the receipt, looking confused as ever. “is this a joke? what kind of waitress lets the girlfriend pay?”

“jae,” you giggled. “you don’t always have to pay for dinner. I wanted to treat you…I missed you so much,” you confided, watching his expression from anger into warmth.

“oh, thank you honey, you are so sweet and thoughtful, I love you so much,” you let him wrap his suit jacket around your arms before planting a kiss to your forehead. “but that will be the last time you ever do that.”

“shut up, i like doing nice things for you,” you pouted.

“since you paid for dinner tonight, i have to put out, right?”

he ran to the car before you could slap him in the chest.

bam; his s/o borrowing his clothes

remember how joey never shared his food? well that’s how bam was with his wardrobe. he was very particular about his clothing, not letting people borrow them at all. yugyeom used to steal his clothes just to be petty and piss his best friend off. he had never let past partners borrow his clothes, and nothing was going to change, it wasn’t his fault, it was an obsession. if you were sure of one thing, it was to not steal your boyfriends clothes.

but one day, while he was gone from work, you thought you would take pictures of yourself in only one of his blazers to tease him.

you weren’t expecting him to walk through the door while you were trying to take self timer pictures of yourself.

“baby? what are you doing?” bam asked, laughing as you let out a squeal of surprise.

“i..i wanted to surprise you...,” he tsked, pulling away to look at his blazer. “i know you don’t like me wearing your things..,” you stammered as he circled you.

“you have such pretty things, though, bam,”

“you look so sexy in this,” he purred. “you were trying to get me worked up while im trying to work?”

“u...uhhh,” you couldn’t think coherently with you boyfriend acting so domineering. you gasped as he slid his hand up to your cunt, rubbing your clit in little circles. “bam...please...,” you groaned.

“keep the blazer on,” he said as you writhed in his grip.

“its gonna get all sweaty though and then you’ll yell at me,” you teased him as you followed him to the bed.

bam just groaned. “baby, im sorry I haven’t let you borrow my clothes before but you look better in them than me. now, let me fuck you and i promise you can have anything you want in that closet.”

he knew exactly how to shut you up.

yugyeom; his s/o buying him flowers

yugyeom was always so stressed during comeback season. you always scolded him when he forgot to eat, or wasn’t staying hydrated enough, but you were so proud of him. seeing the smile on his face and the way he walked a little taller was so worth it.

he was still busy during comeback season, coming home late after all the videos he had to shoot for publicity.

one night, yugyeom had gotten home around midnight to a bouquet of pink roses and a handwritten note from you. it read; “I am so proud of you, my love. congrats on breath… I can always feel your love,” he blushed and giggled to himself, thinking, “isn’t the guy supposed to buy the girlfriend the flowers?” he wandered into your shared bedroom to see you sprawled into his side, with your book in your hands, a soft snore leaving your lips. he nudged you, not intending to wake you up, he could thank you in the morning. but he did accidentally. “yeom?” you whispered.

“shh, baby go back to sleep,” he shushed, changing into his pjs.

“did you like the flowers?” you asked, suddenly awake now.

“theyre really pretty, baby, but aren’t I supposed to buy you the flowers?”

you narrowed your eyes at him. “not my boyfriend being a sexist,”

“yah! y/n stop it, I didn’t mean it that way!! I love them, you remembered I said I love roses,” he was pouting now, pulling you into his chest to spoon you. his voice got quieter now. “no one’s ever remembered my favorite flowers…much less bought them for me,” he paused, kissing the back of your neck before closing his eyes and falling fast asleep.

he was whipped.

#got7 #got7 scenarios #got7 reactions #got7 preferences #got7 writing #got7 imagines #park jinyoung #mark tuan #choi youngjae #kim yugyeom #bambam #jackson wang #im jaebeom #got7 writings

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heyyyharry · 3 years ago

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PREVIEW: Deep End - Chapter 15: Bad Liar

…in which Ezi has to tell the truth.

AU: famous!harry, siren!mc, adult modern retelling of the little mermaid? lol, fake dating, enemies to lovers.

WARNING: MATURE THEMES

All chapters / Synopsis / Moodboard / Playlist

Full chapter: Sunday, April 3, 2022.

READ FULL NOW ON PATREON.

A/N: I wrote smut in the library 😭

He blinked hard, as if the information had just been processed in his brain. Suddenly, he took a step back. She watched his face and her heart sank. He had never looked at her this way. Not even the day they’d first met in the cave. He hadn’t seen her as a monster then, but right now he was looking at her as if she was a hideous beast with two heads and breathed fire.

“That doesn’t change anything–”

“Yes, it fucking does, Ezi. What. The. Fuck?” He lost his balance and slumped into the armchair behind him, his shirt still undone. She was going to stand up and rush towards him, but quickly realised she was still naked, so she stayed there, holding the duvet up to her chest with one hand, the other reaching out to calm him.

“I’m still Ezi. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

“You just said you were supposed to take my heart.”

“Yes. Past tense.” She roughly pushed herself off the bed, stumbled headfirst, clumsily grabbed a random t-shirt lying on the floor, and put it on. Harry was still sitting there like a statue. Blood had drained from his face.

“Look.” She crawled to him and was now kneeling in front of him. He flinched when she rested her hands on his knees. She tried not to let the look on his face get to her, but she hated how he reacted to her touch.

“I was supposed to get your heart,” she began, nervously, “but I gave up a long time ago. I won’t. I’ll leave tonight, and–”

“That doesn’t make me feel better, Ezi!” he exclaimed, startling her.

She watched him bury his face into his shaky hands. After a few seconds, he slowly lifted his eyes. They met hers, his lashes wet. “It was all a big lie?”

Her heart sank. She only stared back at him.

He tried to steady his breaths, but could not do so with his voice. “You set me up. You didn’t save me from the storm, did you?”

Silence.

“You made that happen so I would take you with me.”

Silence.

She couldn’t look at him now. Her eyes fell onto her fingers, which turned white as she dug them into her thighs.

“Answer me, Ezi,” he demanded, his voice rough.

She hesitantly nodded.

He exhaled into his palms, eyes squeezed shut. “So, why did you wait that long? Why didn’t you kill me straight away?”

“I needed to make you fall in love with me,” she said, at last, meeting his alarmed gaze. “But I failed anyway. You don’t love me.”

“I just told you–”

“I don’t feel it in here.” She pressed her palm roughly against his chest. His back hit the backrest of the armchair with a thump. She felt his heartbeats accelerate. “I’ve ripped out so many hearts, and yours feel just the same. Mother said that when a human loves you, you’ll feel it.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“Is it? If you did love me, you wouldn’t be screaming at me now and calling me a monster.”

Harry laughed, almost angrily, as he shoved her hand away. “Love isn’t just one emotion. You know nothing about humans.”

“As if you know anything about love.”

Harry’s eyes widened in shock. “Are you seriously blaming me? You fucking tried to murder me.”

“I’m a terrible person, yes, but you lied about loving me.”

“I never lied. I loved you before I found out you’d been lying from the start.”

“Past tense?” She scoffed, pulling back, hands limp on her legs. “Your love expired in five minutes?”

“You tried to kill me!” He screamed. “How am I supposed to react? Sure, maybe it wasn’t love, but it was something. Because I truly cared about you, fuck, for a second, I was even thinking about a future with just us and Chilli. But this fucking changed everything. Because it seems like the girl I fell for does not exist!”

Slowly, he shook his head, looked away, hand rubbing his chin harshly.

“You know what?” His voice was heavy and gruff now. She feared what might come next.

“You’re worse than a terrible person, Ezili.”

Her breath caught in her throat. She couldn’t move.

“Because you’re not a person,” he went on anyway, mercilessly. “And you’ll never be. You don’t know what it’s like to love someone, to care for someone. Maybe you’re not so different from your sister.”

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livewhileyourbloodisboiling · 3 years ago

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A current BillDip Fic I'm working on! It’s lengthy so it’ll be under keep reading, enjoy!

The loud rush of bypassing cars and people walking past slowly flooded his ears again accompanied by a loud ringing. A hand stretched out and roughly pulled him back from walking into the bright lights of oncoming traffic.

“Earth to DipDop!!” Mabel’s voice rang out, managing to drown out all the noise for a brief second.

Dipper looked around bewildered, coming back to his senses. Seeing his breath puff out into the chilly summer of Portland, Oregon. Bright lights leaked out from store fronts, restaurants, and bars adding a hue to the lively night.

“Jeez, brobro! What’s got you so lost in your mind enough to walk into oncoming traffic?” Mabel slightly chuckled, but concern was obvious in her brown eyes. “Look if you’re still worried about this we can just stay for a bit, then leave! No sweat!” Mabel playfully elbowed Dipper in the ribs.

He wasn’t reassured by her words though. Maybe if Candy and Grenda weren’t going to be there. Maybe if it wasn’t Pacifica throwing a party and it was Gideon instead. Maybe if he didn’t keep to himself often Mabel wouldn’t always put him in this monthly predicament. He remembered the sibling vow they made was to be more social and go to parties. They both knew Mabel had no issue with that, the promise was more so for Dipper’s sake in disguise. Nonetheless, Dipper appreciated Mabel for not making that part obvious and stuck it out with him instead, like a true partner in crime.

Dipper let out a deep, weary sigh that was held in for too long. He scratched the back of his neck, even though he was not itchy, just a nervous unconscious habit that developed over time due to his awkward state and awful way of verbally expressing his emotions.

“Mabel, both you and I know once we get there you won’t want to leave so quickly.” Mabel opened her mouth to interject, but Dipper held up his hand, signaling he wasn’t finished. “There’s nothing wrong with that, either! It’s just...you know how I am. The nerd who’d rather have his nose stuffed in a book than in someone's face.”

Mabel's laugh bubbled out from her stomach, causing her to double over. People gave a curious glance over at the twins but continued to walk around them.

“Is that what you think kissing is, Dipper? Smashing noses together?” She was still laughing.

Dipper clenched his fists from embarrassment and could feel his cheeks heating up.

“I do not!” Dipper huffed, causing Mabel to laugh harder.

Wiping away some tears, she stood back up and put a hand on Dipper’s shoulder. “This is what I mean when I say you need to go outside and touch some grass. Otherwise you’ll die thinking smashing noses is very lewd.”

Dipper shrugged off her hand and rolled his eyes as they continued walking.

“Jokes aside, I really do mean it, DipDop, if you start feeling really uncomfortable or think a panic attack is rising just let me know and we will go. We’ve got all summer after all! This is just one of many parties we will be going to! Plenty of time to adjust to them!” Mabel grinned, a gleeful excitement dancing in her eyes, as Dipper groaned.

Despite that, her excitement was contagious and soon enough had him cracking a giddy smile.

“Mabel, you're definitely onto something for sure. Maybe tonight will go well and my never ending anxieties will lessen over time. Or maybe it'll all go horribly catastrophic. Who knows?”

Mabel gave a firm pat on the back, making him stumble a bit. “That’s the spirit! Anyways, we’re here! Time to face your fears brobro!”

Dipper stared at an average looking door you’d see on any normal day. The black matte door looked like it belonged to the main lobby of a luxurious apartment suite complex. Mabel rapidly tapped on the door in an unceremonious way. After a second pause the door cracked open ajar. A face peered between the crack, looking both of them up and down.

Mabel cleared her throat. “Greetings! I am Mabel Pines, this is Dipper Pines! We are here because we are the royal VIPs! Now grant us entrance!”

The person behind the door looked over from his twin to Dipper who was nervously tapping his foot and gave a small wave of his hand. “Um, hi?”

The person nodded their head, as if some invisible person had said something to them, then closed the door on their faces.

They stood there for a second before Dipper whirled on Mabel. “Mabel, what the hell was that?! Did we get the wrong address? And why were you talking like that?”

Mabel held up her hand. "Just wait.”

As soon as she said that the door opened, allowing enough space to pass through. Mabel put her hand on his back, and pushed Dipper through into a small hallway with a deep red lighting. They were alone, the person guarding the door was no longer there. From a distance, they could hear the muffled sounds of music.

“What kind of weird, unnecessarily extra security does Pacifica have nowadays?” Dipper asked, bewildered.

“Oh, c’mon. Don’t act like that’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever seen in your life.” Mabel said, rolling her eyes.

“You’re right, it’s definitely the person standing next to me.” Dipper retorted, grinning.

Mabel scoffed and shoved him into the direction of the music. “Rude! Now let’s go! They’ve been waiting long enough for us.”

The music became clearer the deeper they walked into the building. The two very strong components of this place seemed to theme drastic lightning and loud, bone vibrating music. Dipper was dreading losing his voice and hearing at some point through the night. The red light slowly dimmed into a deep blue hue. Other lights bounced around the end of the hallway. Dipper belatedly realized how bare the walls were. As they came to the end of it, a staircase met their feet. A huge bar was sprawled out in a big, almost warehouse type of room. Yet, there were so many intricate details everywhere. The walls were far from bare compared to the hallway they had just been in. There were several carvings that looked made from wood. It looked like they belonged in a renaissance gothic church. So many people were there either in clumps dancing or conversing near the bar or tables.

There was a big arrangement of several types of liquor that seemed to stretch on forever, as they walked down the stairs they could see more clearly what there was. Basically whatever drink you could think of, they'd make it.

Mabel squealed next to him, spotting her friends she hadn’t seen in a year. She ran over to them, shoving people aside and all three of them collapsed into a death squeezing hug, giggling all the while. Dipper felt a small smile form, still standing apart from the group, looking in as an outsider. He could see Mabel talking animatedly as Candy and Grenda soaked in every word. Dipper was slightly impressed that he couldn't hear them knowing how loud they usually are.

Mabel turned until she spotted him, waving him to come over. Candy and Grenda also waved at him, in return giving a small half wave back. He didn’t really have a problem with her friends, they just didn’t have a lot in common.

An arm slung around his shoulders. “Well don’t be rude, Dipper. Let’s go greet our friends.”

Dipper turned to see long loose blonde curls fill his vision, until she also turned her head to give a glamorous smile. “Hey, Pacifica.”

“Hey, nerd. Stop being awkward, you both just got here for the summer finally, don’t turn the mood sour already.” Pacifica teased.

She stepped away to walk towards Mabel, who reached out and gave her a big hug. Dipper followed behind.

Everyone else gave polite greetings to Dipper and asked both twins how their school year was.

Dipper gave a nonchalant answer while Mabel bragged for the both of them on how many colleges wanted both of them. Mabel was planning on going into fashion while Dipper was considering paid internships on anomalies.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go through a college first, Dipper?” Candy asked.

Dipper shrugged. “It's nothing concrete yet, but I can get a degree just the same and it won’t take as long. The only difference is I would be traveling continuously instead of staying at a university.”

“Aw, man. Don’t think you can just leave us so easily already!” Came a familiar voice that Dipper couldn’t help but grin at.

“Wendy!” Dipper exclaimed. A tall familiar redhead walked up to their group, her friends trailing behind. “It's so good to see you!” They hugged each other and Wendy took off his hat to ruffle his hair.

They laughed. “It’s good to see ya too, Dipper! Oh, man it’s been so long that you’re almost as tall as me!” Wendy put his hat back on and stepped back. Dipper briefly caught the pointed stare Mabel was giving him but he chose to ignore it. He already knew the tireless speech his twin would be ranting about later tonight.

A person, a waiter he assumed, in a plain tuxedo came around with a tray of various drinks. Dipper was going to decline a drink until Pacifica forcefully put a questionably cold filled glass into his hands and everyone else's. The low five Mabel gave Pacifica didn't go unnoticed either. Dipper raised an eyebrow.

“Cheers to our first drink of summer!” Pacifica shouted. Everyone whooped and howled at that then took a big gulp. Dipper hesitantly took a small simp and grimaced. Whoever made this drink had a heavy hand. Dipper was pretty sure it was all tequila with a splash of orange juice.

The night went on with everyone catching up, dancing, drinking more and more while Dipper sat back in the sidelines babysitting his now watered down drink. Mabel and Pacifica occasionally danced very close to each other, then twirled away to dance with the others. Another conversation that this time Dipper would later bring up.

Another round of drinks were brought to everyone. Dipper eyed his watered down drink slowly drowning in itself, he couldn’t help but to momentarily relate to the drink that was about to be cast aside for a new one. He shrugged and grabbed a random drink from the tray. He wearily took a sip and was pleasantly surprised by the sweet taste, taking a bigger sip this time.

He noticed that the waiter was still there. Dipper raised an eyebrow questioningly at him.

“Apologies, sir. A young gentleman from over there asked me to announce that they ordered this drink for you.”

Dipper swiveled his head in the direction the waiter pointed at. He instantly froze as his eyes locked with opaque blue eyes. Everything seemed to slow down around him, the roaring of crowds and the music slowing down to a hypnotic beat. Dipper’s heart and breathing quickened as he realized it was going to be a lot harder to avoid this person than he had hoped for.

Dipper was the first to break their silent gaze. He was always careful with every step he took, every decision made, every word overthought, but in this instant knocking his head back and chugging the whole drink was most certainly not something well thought out. It was only going to be a decision regretted later on.

Dipper could hear Mabel whooping out his name. She definitely saw him being reckless and approving of it. He stood up and felt things turn sideways for a second. He already knew he was a lightweight but he didn’t think it was this bad. What the hell was in that drink that went unnoticed? He remembered Wendy warning the twins at their first party to watch out for drinks that didn’t taste like alcohol, those were always the most dangerous.

Shit! He thought to himself. Dipper looked back up to the general direction of the person he was trying to avoid. He was still there but now clinging onto a tall blonde male Dipper didn’t recognize. He was hugging him from behind, both of his arms were wrapped around his neck. His usual puffy white, over hair sprayed hair was flattened and slicked back in a flattering way. A stupid part of Dipper got aggravated. Another part wanted to dump a drink on his head. As if on cue, a different waiter came around, this time Dipper took the drink willingly and took a big gulp.

He could hear a tiny voice in the back of his head begging him to act more sensible instead of irrational, but a bigger thought was brewing in his head. Anger, jealousy, and some self-hatred.

“Hey, brobro!” Mabel shouted. “Those definitely aren't heart eyes! Who are you giving daggers at?” She giggled, clearly drunk at this point.

As she turned to see what Dipper was glaring at, her whole face dropped. “ Oh .”

Mabel looked over her shoulder at Pacifica who at some point came over. “Pacifica, did you invite him?”

“Of course I did! I thought you guys were cool. It's been a year anyways right?” She responded, unbothered.

Mabel pressed her lips into a firm line, while her eyebrows furrowed, unsure of what to say.

“Pacifica.” Dipper said through gritted teeth. “Do you know what happened?” He didn't look at her, his eyes were still trained on him.

Before she could answer, he continued. “Let’s not forget the fact that not only did he almost get us killed last summer, but also tried to get the title to the Mystery Shack if Mabel didn’t marry him. Which, you're welcome by the way, for stopping that otherwise you wouldn’t be able to grind on my sister right now.”

Pacifica glared at him, opened her mouth to most likely say something harsher back, but instead turned on her hell and angrily stomped away.

Mabel sighed. “That was unnecessary, Dipper. You know she’s trying to be a better person but-”

“I cannot believe you're defending her, Mabel!”

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t my favorite pair of twins in a classic bickering match.” A familiar southern voice drew out.

Dipper cringed inwardly but couldn't hide his face from scrunching up in disgust.

“Get fucked, Gideon .” Dipper spit out.

Mabel gave Dipper a wide-eyed look, shocked by his sudden out of character behavior.

He was feeling light headed from the combination of alcohol and anger running through his veins. He wanted to stay and punch Gideon. He also wanted to run and hide. He stayed glued to his seat.

Gideon chuckled. “Believe it or not, Dipper, but it really was no hard feelings. Things may have gotten a little out of hand last summer-” Dipper scoffed at that. “-but I do hope we can mature and grow from this. Maybe one day you’ll understand how we men feel when we want something so badly that we’d do anything to get it.” Gideon gave a lustful grin towards Mabel.

Yup, it was decided. Before Gideon could react to Dipper abruptly standing up, he was punched hard in the face. If the only good thing Stan had taught him to get out of a bad situation was violence, Dipper greatly appreciated it.

Gideon was clutching his face, his one good eye giving a murderous glare.

“ God , that felt good ! You’re right about one thing, Gideon, I finally was able to feel something I've been really wanting.” Dipper felt electrified. He stepped closer to Gideon ready for another swing, until long gloved fingers wrapped firmly around his arm and pulled him back.

Dipper looked over to see the hand that had stopped him belonged to the tall blonde male that Gideon was with earlier. Close up he was even taller than he seemed. His face was tanned and had a muscular outline. What he could make out with the mix of the flashing lights were golden eyes like honey staring at him with a big flash of white teeth. His hair was blonde with sharp streaks of black.

“If you could kindly refrain from punching my friend again, I'd greatly appreciate it.” Another blinding flash of white teeth shone on him.

His voice was velvety and coarse all at once. It had Dipper reeling over a response. A few more seconds passed on and this man decided to deem it safe enough to let Dipper go. He stepped over to Gideon and pulled out a cloth for Gideon to wipe off any blood. Anger was still clear in his good eye, yet he found a way to chuckle despite it all.

Dipper couldn't explain the sudden violent urge invoked once more, but instead of pondering on it as a usual resort, he acted on his emotions. Going for Gideon's other eye. Dipper mostly succeeded, breaking some skin when coming into contact with his knuckles but was stopped before it could be fully executed. The golden-haired man standing next to him looked a mix of amused and surprised for a brief second before going back to his flippant bright smile.

This time Wendy had stopped him. Mabel was by her side, clearly worried. “Dude! You totally won the match and all, but I think now is a good time to go.”

Dipper willingly obligated, walking backwards so he wouldn't break eye contact until they took the stairs back up.

Once back in the red hallway, Mabel and Wendy tried to ask what happened but he merely shrugged off their questions by giving one word responses. They eyed each other, having a silent conversation, and shook their heads. They decided to help walk Dipper out of their meanwhile call an uber back to their hotel. Pacifica set them up in one of the fancier ones even though they tried to suggest getting a cheap motel for themselves. He could hear Mabel and Wendy exchanging a few words and then suddenly they were in the uber. It was getting hard for Dipper to focus. Red flags were signaling in his head. He felt weird and fuzzy. Any thought he had was stopped in its tracks and forgotten about. He only had two drinks, why did he feel this way?

“Dipper?” Mabel’s voice sounded far away. “Are you ok? You look super pale? What happened back there? You’ve never drank that much before.”

“That's...it…!” Dipper said weakly.

“What is?” Mabel asked, confused, trying to sober herself up too.

“The drinks...i only had two...and one was from Gideon…”

Mabel's eyes widened in understanding. “Shit.”

Once they arrived at their hotel, Mabel hurriedly rushed them all the way to their room. Once they finally got in, Mabel walked Dipper to the bathroom. She had him crouch down over the toilet.

She sighed. “I’m sorry brobro, but we are going to have to do this the hard way. I’m so sorry I should've been a better sister and stayed with you.”

Dipper lightly patted her leg. Then grimaced as he put a finger down his throat until it triggered his gag reflex enough to spill out all the contents of his stomach.

#im thinking of editing this chapter the part where #Dipper takes the drink wasnt 100% clear i unintentionally rushed it #my brain was faster than my hands #i was also tired #billdip #fic #gravity falls #on ao3 #fic name is moments by t3a

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blue-bird121 · 3 years ago

Text

A Night to Remember

ff.net

It was silent in the city, where lights dominated the beautiful night sky of Paris. While the stars were not visible, the lights from atop the Eiffel Tower basked the surrounding area in a golden light. It was alluring and quiet, free of crime and akumitizations. The lack of crime and those to help could make the night somewhat slow, though Chat Noir wasn’t going to complain. The change made things easier for him and Ladybug, though it was a bit suspicious.

With the silent night and nothing else on his plate, the leather clad man decided to take his leave to visit Marinette’s apartment.

The building wasn’t hard to find, especially as the soothing golden lights glistened from behind the curtains of every building, each giving way as the path lead to the window of a familiar place.

This aureate landscape was new to both of them, despite the fact that Chat Noir did not live there. Marinette had moved to gain more space with her steadily growing business in the fashion industry, leaving the bakery and childhood home behind. Though this didn’t mean that she didn’t visit often, she had gone here with him as both Chat Noir and Adrien.

In his civilian form, Adrien had used his name to help progress Marinette’s business. The Agreste family was very well known, and having him model for her line was a huge deal. Having someone of his status grabbed a lot of attention from the press and the fashion industry. Though Marinette was absolutely a talented creator herself.

While this double life helped him become a better friend towards Marinette, he did feel bad at times about knowing some of the secrets that she’d told him. Those that were personal and ones she’d never tell him as Adrien.

Secrets like she used to have a huge crush on him back in school.

Back then, she’d been such a huge advocate for him. She helped him break free of his father’s grasp, moving past his sheltered youth. It was something that he couldn’t thank her enough for. He’d also been focused on his feelings for Ladybug, instead of someone who was right in front of him. ‘Have I always been this airheaded?’, he wondered to himself, landing on the window’s ledge gracefully.

Chat went to alert Marinette to his presence, but froze from the nerves.

The idea of Marinette finding out tonight, the possibility of her rejection caused him to worry. What if she got mad or didn't want to hear from him again? He couldn't stand to give his heart, to only have it given back. He wondered if he'd almost be better without telling her, but the idea of revealing himself was set into motion. He couldn't stop himself if he tried.

He shook these thoughts from his head, quietly rapping on the window. It was late and he wanted to get her attention without alerting the neighbors to notice a guest in the twilight hours. After a few minutes, the window slid open to reveal Marinette. She had her dark hair in a bun, bangs pinned up above her face so that she could see better while working.

Chat slid in through the window, his tail curling itself around the woman’s waist as he stood to his full height. He’d become quite a bit taller than Marinette in the last few years, which was something that’d been a point to poke at her about. She stood just above his shoulder while he was six foot two.

She looked at him, making a face at the movement, and Chat smirked. His emerald green eyes met her glistening bluebell eyes for a moment before he pulled her closer. “Meowdy there, Purr-incess,” the feline said as he let go of her. He could see a bit of red across Marinette’s cheeks, which matched the color settling across his own.

Just as quickly as Marinette had been let go, she stepped away while stuttering a bit. This was a familiar sight that he remembered from their school days. She always stuttered around him and her sentences didn’t make sense back then, though they did now.

“You’re a dork,” she said with a giggle, walking away to the living room. “Come on, Kitty. Let’s go watch a movie.”

Chat follows down the hallway, looking over the woman’s mixed outfit. The top was a regular, blush colored t-shirt. Her pants were black, similar colored spots matching her top. It was obviously Ladybug themed, though not so much so that it made her look overtly like a fangirl. He watched as her hands moved to her head, letting her bangs fall back over her forehead.

Both of them moved from the bedroom to the living room and sat down next to each other. There was a bit of space between them with Chat’s right leg crossed over the other, and his arms were across the back of the couch. His left arm was over Marinette’s shoulders, though not touching the woman as she began to pick a movie.

“You picked what we watched last time, so it’s only fair that I get to pick this time,” Marinette commented, to which Chat shrugged.

“Is there still a ban on my usual movies?”

There was the sound of the rain pattering against the window, a soft drizzle beginning to fall across the city, the raindrops sliding off just as quickly as it came. Chat’s ears flicked at the sound, suddenly glad he was inside instead of still patrolling in the wet night.

“Yep. I think We’re going to watch Beauty and the Beast. The animated version, of course,” she said before starting the movie. She then set the remote down, settling into the couch with a blanket. Chat leaned across her, pulling the large blanket over to himself and slightly moved Marinette’s blanket off of her, enough to lure her closer to him. The apartment was chilly and he was warm, which he hoped to use in his favor.

The movie began and they both became quiet as Marinette slightly curled up into his blanket. He felt nervous for a plethora of reasons, but the biggest being because of his dual identity. He was sure that she would want to know who he was. Once she found out he knew so many secrets… would she still feel the same towards him, or even still want to be friends with him? The idea of Marinette never speaking to him again made Chat ponder if this was even a good idea.

For just a little while, Chat did decide to watch the movie with Marinette and forget his plans for a moment. He’d have his chance to reveal himself soon enough, when the timing was just right. Plus, he enjoyed a good musical so Beauty and the Beast scratched the right itches. The animation was beautiful as well, and he wished that Disney still did this sort of animation instead of their current CGI style. Though the CGI still had its perks.

He was too far into this now, though. He wanted Marinette to know how he felt, at the chance of ruining their friendship and partnership. She would leave a huge hole in his life if she left.

Which is where he stood now. Or well- sat. Chat managed to move his arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer to himself. His stomach was full of Ladybugs, churning some from nervousness.

As Belle and the Beast played on the castle grounds, he smiled while they threw snowballs at each other and enjoyed their time together. He found it so adorable and he felt like the time to share his feelings for Marinette was nearing.

When Chat shifted, Marinette took notice. She looked up at him as he leaned down, one hand on her cheek before pulling her into a soft kiss. Romance filled the air.

Chat was the first to pull away from the kiss. His eyes opened slightly, just in time to see Marinette’s eyes flutter open to meet his own. He could feel his cheeks blushing hard, this moment being the least smooth for the Cat.

Marinette’s cheeks were equally flushed, she watched him for a moment before he began to feel guilty for knowing secrets he shouldn't. She shouldn’t be left in the dark like this. It wasn’t fair towards her.

“Before you say anything. I want to show you something. Or… someone. Me, without the mask,” he said as he wanted her to know that he was Adrien beneath the mask.

Marinette seemed shocked, but shook her head vigorously. “What? N--No Chat! Your identity should remain a secret, just like any other miraculous holder. Besides, I'm sure that's what Ladybug would want you to do,” she told him.

Adrien shook his head. “I already knew that you were MultiMouse. It’s such a shame that you couldn’t come back as her either. So, I think it's only fair for you to know my identity as well,” he disagreed, eagerly wanting her to know who he is.

Then without another chance to let Marinette argue with him… Chat revealed his identity.

“Plagg, Claws in...”

In the background of their current scene, the Beast began to change back to his human form by the love that he shared with Belle. His human form was revealed to be Prince Adam, and Belle was glad to see that her prince was back.

Chat transformed back into his civilian identity while Marinette covered her eyes to try not to look at him. He was worried whether she’d be mad at him or disappointed. He didn’t know if he’d be able to recover from that.

Adrien felt upset because Marinette didn’t want to know who he really was. That she would be disappointed it was him of all people. “Please, Princess?” he asked softly, brows raised. “I want you to know who I am. We’ll be alright, I promise you.”

“If anybody found out I knew your identity, you could lose your miraculous,” she said, feeling his hands on hers. They were warm and soft. The feeling was very familiar to her for some reason, then it clicked.

Marinette’s eyes shot open in visible surprise only to see Adrien Agreste sitting in her living room. Adrien had just kissed her. She found out Adrien was Chat Noir. The man that had been flirting with her for the last ten years.

Adrien watched her face to see a wave of emotions, Plagg emerged from his pocket nibbling on some Camembert. “Marinette?” he asked softly, a hand cupping her cheek. He was unsure of what was going on inside of her head. Until she began to turn bright red.

“Since you showed me your secret… Can I show you one of mine?” she asked while he noticed the deep flush spreading across her cheeks. Her partner had been Adrien all these years and she hadn’t even guessed. Now it was her turn.

“Tikki, spots on!”, she called the little red Kwami who transformed her into Ladybug. Adrien looked shocked as Marinette transformed, though he was glad to know that it was Marinette who was his Ladybug.

“M’lady?~” he said with a smile on his face while being shocked at the same time as Marinette spoke her detransformation words. “My kitty.”

“Are you disappointed it was me?” the pair asked one another in tandem. They both let out a small chuckle as Adrien pulled his lady closer to him. She was special to Adrien, and he was glad that they knew each other's identities now. He was unable to imagine a life without her in it.

Adrien was special to Marinette as well, the guy whom she had a huge crush on back in high school had turned out to be her partner in crime all this while. She meant so much to him, and he was glad to know that he meant the same to her as well. It certainly was a night to remember.

#marichat #ml adrien #adrienette #mlb spoilers #mlb fanfic #ml au #miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #miraculous adrien #miraculous lb #miraculous chat noir #miraculous au #chat noir #marinette dupen chang #fanfiction #fanfic #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #miraculous ladybug fanfic

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astarryon · 4 years ago

Text

Promise Me

In the Name of Dry Shoes

Warnings: Flirtation

Chapter Summary: It’s really rather rude of you, distracting Spencer the way you do.

Masterlist

Chapter Two: Red is a Wondrous Color

“You keep looking up.”

It isn’t that he minds— he doesn’t. He likes the way your lashes flutter against the night’s chilly breeze, the way your petal shaped lips drop open into an awestruck ‘o’. He likes the way the moon falls on your features, the dusky twilight casting shadows beneath your jutted chin. What he especially likes is the warmth of your fingers curled around his bicep, present even through the jacket and sweater he’s wearing, and the trust it symbolizes. You wouldn’t let just anyone lead you blindly down the street, after all. It’s a misguided emotional response, but he feels special.

“I’m always looking up,” you tease, sliding that piercing gaze of yours over to him. He wonders how you do that — make him feel so completely seen without even trying. As far as he can recall, no one else’s gaze has ever managed to leave him quite so exposed. “You do know how tall you are, don’t you?”

“Implying that you’re always looking at me,” he teases, leading you carefully around a puddle of rainwater. He has to stifle a chuckle, lest you think he’s laughing at you. He’s not — it’s just funny. All those movies where men rush to throw their jackets on the ground for the apple of their eye to walk over, and he finally understands what could possibly motivate a man to ruin a perfectly good coat in the name of dry shoes.

You stop the two of you walking, tugging at his arm to simultaneously pull him to you and get his attention, and once he’s come back around you stand up on your tiptoes to wrap your arms around his neck, in response to which he settles his hands down at your hips to keep you steady. “I am always looking at you, Spence,” you tell him, toying with the curls just above the nape of his neck. Something twinges in his stomach — something strong and unrelenting, something he’s unfamiliar with but that he wouldn’t necessarily mind feeling again provided it were in direct relation to you. “Every minute, every hour, every day, I’m looking. The funny part about it is that you don’t even realize how distracting you are.” Your mouth comes exceedingly close to his, and he’s not sure whether that’s by happenstance or if it’s intentional, but either way, he doesn’t particularly care. He’s more preoccupied with trying to work out how to get your mouth closer to his.

“I’m distracting?” he murmurs, thumbs pressing slightly into the prominent ridges of your hipbones. Some quiet part of his mind is grateful that there aren’t many other people out tonight, due to combination of the late hour and the icy weather, but even if there were a scattered audience milling about the sidewalk, he wouldn’t care enough to stop playing at this careful, flirtatious game the two of you have had going on for weeks now. “You sit there and make eyes at me across the jet, you say the most obscene things in front of the others because you know I can’t react without tipping them off, you brush my skin every time you pass me in the field.” He can feel the heat of your breath on his throat, now, and it’s taking everything in him not to lose the very precarious grasp he’s managed to maintain on his composure. “Sweet thing, I can hardly ever think straight when we’re in the same room together. I’m not the distracting one here.”

It isn’t until he notices your face beaming with sudden delight that Spencer realizes the admission he’s just mistakenly made.

“You can’t think straight when I’m near you?” you breathe, a sly grin working your mouth as you press closer and closer to him. You peak up at him through the black fringe of your fluttering lashes, a flirtatiously coy grin lifting the corners of your lip, and Spencer is halfway caught between stepping away to collect his thoughts and winding his arms around your waist to pull you flush against his body. It would be so... easy. Too easy to offer his composure any sort of reinforcement. “Spencer Reid, do I give you butterflies?”

Well that’s certainly one word for the foreign sensation constantly rippling through his abdomen, spurred into strength each and every time you draw close enough for him to touch. He wants to admit it — he wants to ensure you know exactly what you do to him, how you make him feel, how you disrupt the neat and tidy processes of his mind with thoughts of your touch, your scent, you, but he can’t find the words. So he decides to bend his neck and capture your mouth with his in effort to show you exactly what you do to him.

He’s kissed you before, of course. It’s one of his favorite things to do, just up there with playing chess and reminding you of your earth shattering beauty, but it’s different this time. Something about this embrace cuts deep into his soul, makes him realize that kissing you is all he wants to do, and it just might be what he’s best at in this life. It’s something to do with the way you gasp into his mouth, he thinks, the way you curl into him like a puzzle piece molded perfectly to match his shape. More than that, it’s the way he can’t hardly breathe while he’s got you in his arms, so close and intimate, and the way he doesn’t want to breathe if it means pulling you closer and feeling you there with him.

“Okay,” he rasps, shaking his head and grinning admittedly like an idiot. It takes nearly all his strength to untangle himself from your embrace, but he manages, and he’s sure to keep a hand circled around your wrist before tugging you down the street with a renewed sense of urgency. “Okay, that’s it. Change of plans.”

“Spencer?” you laugh, giggling brightly as he pulls you up the street in the opposite direction of the one you’d been initially traveling in. You’re breathless, your lips are swollen, and he’s positive you’ve never looked so alluring. “Hey, what are you doing? Where are we going?”

“Home,” he tells you, and your laughter dances higher and louder through the air, setting his ears ablaze with red. “We’re going home, and we’re gonna talk about just how strong those butterflies you give me are.”

You only chuckle in response, shaking your head. “God, I love you,” you laugh, following eagerly in his footsteps.

And that’s not the first time he’s heard you say that, either, but it is the first time it kicks up a violent round of fluttering in his chest.

Butterflies. How absolutely… delightful.

—

Chapter Four: I Want to Take It With Me

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #fluff #sweet #flirty #promise me

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count-woe-laf · 4 years ago

Text

You can’t spell stargaze without gays

I write? Since when? Yes I’m aware the title makes no sense, I’m uncreative. This was supposed to be a late birthday present for @me-a-mess-morelikelythanyouthink but it’s super late now, I still enjoyed writing it and planning it with her, I hope you’re having a great day, Silver. I’m sorry I got science facts wrong and I don’t know how to end things or how normal people talk

Logan and Virgil are hopeless pining gay idiots with horrible communication skills, but they’re working on it. (Romantic analogical, very background royality and platonic dukeceit.) 1850 words

"Bring me a diet coke!" Virgil called to Roman as he ran out of the truck, through the gravel parking lot, and towards the bright 7/11.

Logan let out a small laugh from next to him. "You know he's going to spend an hour flirting with the cashier and forget."

"Yeah I know, it's fine. Surprising that he's moved up from panicking around Patton to flirting with him, that's what I call character development."

"Character development that's gone on for ten too many seasons."

"True. But while he's in there I have more time to spend with you," Virgil replied with a smirk, Logan's cheeks reddening.

"You all are disgusting," called Remus from the backseat.

"I agree," Janus sighed. "Though I can do many things, understanding allos is not one of them."

"Then get out of my truck," Virgil jokingly glared into the rearview mirror.

"It's Roman's truck-" Logan started, Virgil shifted his glare towards him. "Ok yeah, get out."

"Think we can find bigfoot, Jan?"

"We're only half an hour away from the city, try again," but Janus let himself be dragged out into the nearby forest.

Logan and Virgil were left alone, thoughts of what had gone on the past week between them running through their heads. The hand brushes, the late night phone calls, the hoodies, the excessive amount of feelings that for once, neither of them minded. There was always more to say though.

"You can see lots of stars from out here," Virgil commented rather nervously. "You should come outside with me and look at them."

It was an offering just for Logan. He was the only one allowed to stargaze with Virgil while others were flirting in a 7/11 and being chaotic in a forest. Logan and Virgil in the bed of a truck staring at the night sky. ...Well, one of them was looking at the stars.

"You know to stargaze you actually have to look at them, right? You can just look at me, V."

"Who's saying you're not a star? 'Cause you definitely are, love."

"Love?" Logan tilted his head towards Virgil's red face.

"Uh-" Virgil looked away quickly. "What is that constellation? It looks like a spoon."

"Do you seriously not know? That's the big dipper, it's part of the constellation ursa major."

"You're the science-y one here, how would I know?" Logan just sighed. "You should keep talking though, I love your voice."

"Oh… Well that's the northern star…"

"Why is it called that?"

"Um, it's the most northern star, I believe astronomers base things off of it."

Virgil snoted, "wow. Star dudes sure are creative."

Logan looked over, an indescribable emotion on his face. "Pardon me, but did you just call astronomers, 'star dudes'?"

Virgil stared back, a teasing glint in his eyes. "Star. Dudes."

"...I will defenestrate you."

"Oh?"

"Do you even know what that means?"

"Yeah," Virgil said. "It means you pick me up and I get to simp over your muscles."

"It also means I throw you out of a window."

"I'll take what I can get." Logan let out a fond sigh. "Ok 'cause your constellations are boring and factual- don't worry I still love them- but I'm telling stories now."

"You're going to kill me."

"In your dreams, babe."

"What's that supposed to-"

"Over there is Elenor, it kinda looks like a bunny, I know. Their boyfriend is Jesse over there-"

"Virgil I swear, I'm leaving you in the forest." Logan's words gave a much different meaning when he was struggling to keep in his laugh.

Virgil chucked. "Oh Logan, so naive, there's so much more. Those three stars? Yeah they're Bo Peep's sheep."

Logan choked, the statement taking him by surprise. "Excuse me? You can't just…"

"Y'know, from Toy Story? Doesn't she have three sheep or something? I swear that was a plot point in one of the movies."

"The threat of being thrown out of a window still stands, Virge."

"Good, now that star over there…"

"Her name is Jennifer, she got a constellation for making the best bean salad."

Virgil tried to hold in a laugh. "And what did you say that one was?"

Logan was so enamoured with Virgil's laugh that he almost didn't notice him intertwining their fingers. Almost. He still had to take a breath to regain his nearly non-existent composure. Although fifteen minutes couldn't have passed, Logan could tell that it was a good decision to accept Roman's offer for a fake road trip.

"That guy with the belt?" Logan continued. "He was the first person to invent clothes. Quite the fashion icon for his time."

"Oh yeah?" Virgil giggled and Logan's heart stuttered in his chest.

"Yeah, he was also the only straight man in his village. It was very controversial." Virgil hummed in response, trying to calm his laughter.

"We're pretty controversial."

"What do you mean by that?"

"We're lying in the bed of Roman's truck, well past midnight and the city limits, looking at stars. Janus and Remus are probably lost in the forest and Roman and Patton have probably gotten over their gay panic and are planning their wedding together."

"I'm not sure how that's controversial, but it is interesting that we've achieved nothing compared to them." Logan's eyes drifted back to the stars.

"I think not getting lost is a plus." He made a noise of agreement. "And uh… I know we're not as vocal about stuff like the others but… Dating you wouldn't be bad." It came out more like a question, causing Logan to look back at him.

"Fuck- I mean-" Virgil ran a hand down his face. "It would actually be really really nice if I could be your boyfriend because- ugh stop staring at me like that! It's just that you're really great and nice to be around and to talk to and I can't imagine you not being in my life. A-and I know we've been kinda sorta dating but you know how dumb we both are about romance and all that stuff- oh god this is romance, I can't believe that…

"I just really like you, Logan and I need to make sure you know that."

Virgil's words swirled into the air, into the sky, into that great expanse of stars and light.

They laid there and stared at the stars, thinking, considering, and a fair amount of staring on Logan's side.

He couldn't help it, really. He couldn't stop his eyes tracing the curve of his jaw, his bitten lips, the words that previously escaped them were still spinning through Logan's head. And Virgil's hair, his adorably messy hair that was usually hanging in front of his eyes, was pushed to the side, Logan could see a galaxy reflected in his beautiful eyes.

Virgil was his galaxy, his sun, his stars. He had kept him sane through years of school. He constantly went out of his way just to brighten Logan's day a little bit more, and brighten he did.

Virgil meant everything to him and he'd be damned if he went home tonight without showing him that.

"Didn't… Didn't you say you always wanted to go stargazing with your partner?"

"Uhh, yeah." Virgil replied hoarsely.

"I suppose you get to cross that off your list, then." Logan wondered how he suddenly had some semblance of smoothness to his words.

"Oh."

The stars seemed awfully bright that night, especially in the way they reflected off Virgil's freckles.

"Is… Is that a shooting star?" Virgil lifted his free hand, tracing the bright line across the map of stars.

"There's no such thing as shooting stars." Virgil rolled his eyes. "But, I… do believe that's a satellite."

"Then make a wish."

"That's stupid and makes no sense, wishing on a satellite has no affect on my life."

"Just do it, my northern star."

Logan's red face was a reflection off the far away street lights, nothing else. "Am I supposed to tell you what I wished for?"

"Not really, but you can. I'd love to know what goes on in that brilliant head of yours."

"My head is empty, unfortunately." Virgil laughed, he did that quite a bit around him. "I wished that we'd have a good relationship. Apologizes, is that weird, or too soon? I… just mean that we're both terrible at communicating, I hope that we can improve together as a couple."

“Oh."

Although Virgil may not have realized it, Logan noticed as he lightly brushed his thumb over his hand. It was stupidly endearing and soft, just as Virgil was.

"That's probably the cutest thing anyone's ever said that slightly regards me."

"Glad I can be of service, darling."

"So darling is what you go with?"

"Would you prefer something else?"

"...No. If I can call you my boyfriend you can call me whatever you want." Virgil smiled. "…You're my boyfriend. That's nice to say."

"It is. I wonder how I stumbled upon a boyfriend as good as you."

"You- you need to stop doing that," Virgil blushed.

"I'm not doing anything!" Logan shifted closer to him, for heating purposes of course, it was a little chilly. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You know full well."

"Do I really, Virgil?"

"Shut up and look at the stars."

"Make me."

"Logan I swear-"

"Fine, fine, I will." Virgil mumbled thanks under his breath. "But they aren't as pretty as you."

Virgil let out a noise, a mix between a screech and a cough. There was no way he was showing Logan how fluttery his words made his heart feel. (Although he felt it was common knowledge among them.)

"There's around twenty minutes until the others get back, that's twenty minutes to mess with you."

"I'm already regretting this, Lo."

"As you should, my love."

Yes, their friends may have interrupted their stargazing a few minutes later. Yes, Roman may have forced Patton to leave his shift early resulting in one too little seats and an angry boss. Yes, they may have almost ran out of gas on the way home. Yes, they may have bought fries as Janus looked for a gas station. Yes, they may have fallen onto the floor seconds later. Yes, Remus may have jumped out of the car afterwards because he said it looked fun and almost sprained his ankle. And yes, Roman did have to explain the situation five times to his parents because they couldn't stop laughing about all the shenanigans they got into that night.

Still, Virgil's arm stayed around Logan's waist like it was the most casual thing in the world. Still, they shared a milkshake once everyone had given up on the fallen fries. Still, they were both filled with such a bright happiness that it was impossible to drag them down. And maybe they fell asleep on a video call that night. Or maybe Logan stayed over and they woke up with their limbs tangled in each other's, feeling content and appreciative of the other as they slowly woke up. Honestly, who's to say? It was just a good night.

#analogical #logan sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #hope y'all enjoyed this because I'm kinda proud of it #love you sil #ts logan #ts virgil #also yeah i have a taglist tell me if you want to be added #pen throws away a pen

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babbushka · 4 years ago

Text

The Shape of You (3/12)

Supreme Leader Kylo Ren x Reader

You do a good job of it, staying out of the way. You’re quiet, you’re unsuspecting, you’re practically invisible; just the way you like it. Until one sunny summer day in 1962, the government base where you work acquires an unusual asset, and everything you know is about to change. In the race to save this lonely, desperate, beautiful man, loyalties are shaken on all sides – and the bonds of true love are tested.

7.4k ; CW: mentions of injury, mentions of past torture, angst

Tumblr Masterlist | Available on AO3

----------------------------

When you wake, it is dark once again.

For a moment, you blink and stare at the ceiling, the phantom image of his face swimming in the inky black of night. Holding on to that face, you tentatively reach a hand out into the air, hoping to touch him, hoping to feel something.

In the end, it is nothing but empty air, and your hand drops.

“The only station for when you’re on the go, tune in to AM W-6-Z-O!” The swingin’ dancers on the radio blare once again, an official signal that the time for dreaming is over.

With this new encounter, this new…you don’t even know what it is, you can’t help but feel your pulse quicken. Everything is the same – you will get up to brew your coffee, Armitage will pound against the wall, you will share your breakfast and take three buses to work – but simultaneously, nothing will ever be the same again. Because possibly for the first time in many years, you do not dread the thought of going to work.

Not that you dreaded it, work, not really. It was a good job, an important job, a job that was part of something bigger, much bigger than yourself. But you could not deny the excitement that simmers just below your skin at the thought of it.

The thought of seeing him again.

“You’re chipper this morning.” Armitage scowls as he opens the door for you, a bright cheerful smile on your face.

“Haven’t the foggiest idea what you mean.” You breeze right past him, placing the percolator down on his pot-holder that he keeps on the counter just for this very occasion. Immediately going to his cupboards, you begin to remove the flour and sugar, giving him a knowing glance and asking even though you know the answer, “Pancakes?”

“Please, god knows I’m going to need something sweet today.” He groans, moves to sit at the table.

Sometimes, you can’t help but think how domestic this is. How your friendship had blossomed into a bond so much stronger than you had ever expected. You wonder if Armitage thinks it too, if he ever is reminded of a lifetime ago, when he was married to a beautiful woman and had a house in the suburbs, if when you pour his coffee and flip pancakes on the stove, his heart aches for that long gone time.

If he does, he says nothing about it, so you don’t bring it up.

“What have they done now?” You ask instead, knowing that this is a topic of conversation in which Armitage will always have something to say, always have something to complain about.

“It’s just these essays. Half the class it would seem, completely missed the point of the extra credit film.” He sighs, gesturing to a stack of papers once again sitting on the kitchen table.

“Oh that’s alright, at least Boris is happy.” Sliding pancakes off of the pan and onto a plate, you douse them in a generous helping of syrup and powdered sugar for the both of you, before moving to sit opposite him at the table.

Just then, the lights flicker on and off, making you both frown. The power had never had much of an issue before, what with the movie theater just downstairs needing those extra generators. You glance out the window, it wasn’t raining, and it wasn’t windy – both telltale signs of potential power failure.

“Do you ever worry about what will happen when he has to shut down the building?” Armitage grumbles, carefully and very specifically cutting his stack of pancakes into wedge pieces.

“No, because he won’t.” You shut that train of thought down at once within him, knowing that while he likes to pretend otherwise, your Professor has a proclivity for the dramatics unlike anyone else you’ve ever met. “He has renters for a reason after all, and the summer tourists bring in enough to make ends meet.”

Armitage thinks about that for a moment or two, before accepting the answer.

“You’re right.” He concedes, sounding resigned.

“I’m always right.” You wink, and the two of you finish your breakfast in companionable silence.

------------------

When you leave Armitage’s apartment and go back to your own, you cannot deny the rush that is the thought of seeing him again. It seems so silly, and of course it is silly, but something in you wants to look nice for him.

You fix your hair and pick out your cleanest most nicely ironed uniform, concerned for the first time about how it fits you, how it forms to your body. It is a modest uniform – you are a cleaning woman after all – but you find that despite the drab color palette and utilitarian shape, you look good. The clock chimes, and you realize that there isn’t much time to fuss, so instead of standing in front of the mirror, you pick a pair of heels off your grand shoe display, and hope that he finds the bright blue color appealing.

Dawdling had never been a trait of yours before, and now you understand why.

The bus is sitting and waiting at the stop when you exit your apartment building, and you run in those bright blue heels as fast as your legs can take you to make it just in time. The click-clack of your steps on the pavement alert everyone nearby, as you bolt towards the bus. Water on the ground from the night’s dew reflects the colors of the neon signs all around you, and when your foot splashes in one of the light puddles, a rainbow scatters around your ankles.

You make a beeline straight for the doors, which are open and welcoming you like a warm embrace, and only once the momentum of your body has thrown you into your seat, do you let out a long exhale.

“Thank you, I’m so sorry!” You could bury your face into your hands with how embarrassed you are, but your hands are shaking from the adrenaline of nearly missing the bus.

Missing this bus would have been bad, very very bad. It would have meant that you’d be late to work, and you have never once, not in the entire ten years on the job, have you been late for work. Such an irregularity would have raised suspicion, would have called attention to you – more attention than there already was. They wouldn’t like that, it would compromise your larger job, your more important mission -- you could not afford to be late. So, you sigh with relief and will your heart to stop pounding in your chest; all was well, you are on the bus, it did not pull away from the stop without you on it, you will be there on time.

“Good morning Miss (Y/N), no need to apologize, you know I’ll always wait for you.” Mr. Henry’s kind eyes glance at you with amusement through the rearview mirror, and you once again thank your lucky stars to have a friend like him.

Much like Armitage, you had never expected to befriend the bus driver. You had of course planned on being friendly and polite, but the extent to which you enjoyed the elderly man’s company had surprised you. And what’s more, you were constantly surprised by his willingness to be friendly with you in return. It reminded you that perhaps, there was a solidarity at the bottom – when there is no one to look out for the people like you and him, you look out for one another.

Could Mr. Henry have gotten in trouble by waiting for you? Would he be late to his other stops now? These were questions that you couldn’t help but think, but you have to wonder if they were questions he considered. Surely it would have been easier to simply leave you behind, but he hadn’t done such a thing, and you cannot express how grateful you are for that.

You resolve to thank him somehow, some way more meaningful than simply the words. It strikes you then, that despite speaking to one another every day, you still know very little about the man. You know he has a beautiful wife and a blossoming garden, you know he picks up a cup of coffee from the donut shop before starting his route, and you know which music stations he prefers to listen to. But beyond that, you have both remained relatively private.

He was not so different from you in that regard, you suppose.

Most people are not so different from one another, you suppose.

“For absolutely no reason at all, what is your favorite type of baked good, Mr. Henry?” You ask after a few moments, when the bus has left the stop and has continued its route, the Las Vegas strip a myriad of lights and colors, blinking and twirling in the night.

“Oh you don’t have to go doing all that – ”

“But I want to.” You insist, “Please let me?”

He looks up at you once again through the rearview window, and you see the sparkle of a smile in his eye. You wonder when the last time someone did something kind for him was, someone doing it just out of the want to see him happy.

“I may or may not be fond of those caramel brownies you make.” Sheepishly, almost as if he will be scolded for revealing such information, he confesses this to you.

You recall a time when you had to bring something to the company party, a holiday get together many years ago. You had been charged with bringing a dessert, and as a thank you to Mr. Henry’s continual kindness and hard work, you offered him one.

It makes you strangely emotional, to know that he had enjoyed it enough to remember it, after all these years.

“How very interesting to know.” You smile, and he smiles back, before he turns his attention to the next bus stop, and your window for conversation comes to a close.

She is waiting for you at the bus exchange today, standing and huddled in the large group of other passengers. It is chilly out in the desert tonight, and she has a beautiful black and white checkerboard coat wrapped around her body. In moments like these, watching the steam and fog of the bus exchange plume around her feet, Gwendoline reminds you of a movie star.

Perhaps in another life, her face would light up the screen, her silvery blonde hair and striking cheekbones commanding every man in the theater to fall head over heels in love with her. Sometimes she talks about it, about moving away from this city, about quitting her job.

Perhaps in another life, you might go with her.

Armitage would surely come too, wouldn’t he? He could get a job as a professor anywhere, he could pack up his apartment and join you and Gwen on a trip to Los Angeles, or New York City, or perhaps somewhere abroad – but you can’t, can you. You can’t leave.

And so, as selfish as it is, you hope that Gwen never leaves either, because you’re not so sure what you would do, were she to go.

This is especially true, as she catches sight of you politely making your way to where she is standing, and she smiles and throws a hand up to wave to you, as if you didn’t already see her. Gwen was, in so many ways, a beacon of color in the world of black and grey.

“(Y/N)!” She hollers happily to you, competing with the noise of the bus exchange.

The hiss and hydraulics of brakes and doors opening and closing, the sound of engines revving and radios humming, of the news playing on black and white screens behind a window of glass, of people talking and smoking and eating and laughing even though it’s too early for it all, still through this noise Gwen’s voice cuts through.

“Morning,” You smile back at her, offering a thermos as is your tradition every morning. “Coffee?”

“You’re a saint,” Gwen responds, accepting it as is her tradition. “Oh I love when you wear the blue shoes!”

She takes a step back for you to point your toe and extend your leg ever so slightly, the dazzling satin shining like sapphires in the artificial light of the fluorescent overheads. One of the men waiting in the crowd with you lets out a whistle when your skirt rides up just enough to show a little thigh, and you have to physically restrain Gwendoline from snapping her teeth at him.

“I really like this pair, I don’t know why I don’t wear them more often.” Chuckling just a little at your friend’s fierce protective nature, you draw her attention back to the shoes. It wouldn’t do to get into a fight just minutes before being in an enclosed crowded space together.

“Maybe because they’re the least practical thing for a janitor?” Gwendoline mutters, still shooting the man dirty looks. He has, thankfully, backed off – probably for his own safety. Rarely do men ever expect women to snap back, and oh how Gwendoline’s bite is worse than her bark.

“Maybe, but they are so beautiful.” You shrug, and this at the very least, Gwen can understand.

“Come, I think that’s our bus now.” She whispers to you so as to not draw the attention of the crowd around you, knowing how the rush of everyone wanting to get onto the bus and secure a seat can often lead to a mob.

Sure enough, as she pushes her way to the front and you follow her diligently, when the bus rounds the corner and the pushing and shoving begins, you two are already on your way to the back of the bus, coats and purses in your laps, a deck of cards ready to be shuffled.

In the back of the bus, you and Gwen hide your faces behind a hand of cards each, a game of Go Fish that you are sorely losing. You almost wish that the bus would hit a bump in the road, so that the cards could go scattering all over the floor and you wouldn’t be shamed with the loss, but then the thought of having to clean it all up makes you reconsider.

Gwen, for her part, doesn’t ease up on you one bit, a great big grin on her face as she claims yet another of your cards for her own little pile.

“I dreamt of him again.” You bring up, as nonchalantly as you can.

The bus has greatly reduced down its number of passengers, thankfully. No longer packed like sardines, you and Gwen have enough room to spread out, your belongings no longer piled up on your lap. Instead, they rest on the seat just across the little aisle, as you normally do. Still, it’s not entirely empty, there are quite a few stops to go before the bus pulls over into the dark of the desert and identification is requested.

All this means, is that while you can speak, it has to still be in hushed tones, lest someone from outside the building’s personnel overhear. Gwen hears you perfectly well despite your near whisper, and her face practically alights in the same way those flood lights search the sky.

“Please tell me there’s a face this time!” She abandons the cards to grasp at your hands.

For someone who prides herself on practicality, Gwendoline was incredibly invested in these dreams that you have. Every time you bring it up, she is genuinely and completely interested in hearing more, and you’re more than happy to indulge her.

“There is, and you won’t believe it, but it was, well, it was the Asset.” The last word is whispered so quietly that you might as well just be mouthing the words.

Upon hearing this, her eyes widen, mouth falling open ever so slightly.

“You’ve seen him?” Her shocked whisper makes you cast a glance around.

Good, you think, no one is paying any attention to you, everyone who is left has seated themselves at the front of the bus, knowing that they will be getting off soon and not wanting to have to shuffle through the narrow aisle.

“I – ”

“(Y/N) you didn’t sneak into the lab after all that, did you?” Gwendoline suddenly turns frustrated, exasperated with you. She hisses through clenched teeth, “After that creep Tarkin warned us specifically not to do that very thing?”

“I couldn’t help it Gwen, you can’t tell me that you’re not so curious to know what’s going on in there!” You explain, and she only scoffs and rolls her eyes.

“Of course I’m curious! But I also have some sense of self-preservation.” She looks down at where her hands are clutching yours, turns your palms over in hers. You look down, see how calloused and rough the both of your hands are from a decade of harsh chemicals and hard work. “What if that man is dangerous? What if he hurts you?”

“He can’t, he’s behind bulletproof glass, I don’t think he can even hurt himself with how secure they’ve got him.” You try reassuring her, and it seems that at least for the moment, she is convinced.

Chewing on her lip for a moment or two, eventually she relents to your assurances, and a great big smile spreads over her face once more. You have half a mind to ask her what lipstick she’s wearing, and there you go again, daydreaming about looking nice for this man…

“What does he look like?” Gwen snaps you out of your reverie, and you duck your head, bashful.

You’ve been thinking about him and the way he looks ever since you laid your eyes on him, on his incredibly impressive frame.

“He’s huge. Built like a refrigerator, tall and wide. His face was hard to see, he wears a mask that covers nearly half of it, but his hair is long and dark, and his eyes…” You can see it so clearly, there in your mind’s eye; can see his flexing biceps, the abs, the thick trail of hair that disappears behind those swim trunks they have him in.

With a knowing smile and a shake of her head, Gwendoline sighs.

“You’re going to see him again, aren’t you.” It’s not so much a question, as it is a resignation. She knew you well enough to know that once you’ve decided something, once you’ve put your mind to something, there was very little that could stop you.

If only she knew how deep that sentiment ran.

“I have to, I promised him that I would.” You say, that giddy excitement returning to you once more.

You know that the lab is going to be on your list, you and Gwen are the only ones with high enough clearance for it, you know that at some point in the day, you’ll be face to face with him once again. And that thought thrills you, it has your leg bouncing, your pulse quickening.

Gwen can feel it in your palms, and she lets go of your hands so that you can fiddle with something to keep those busy fingers satisfied.

“Just…just be safe, okay?” She whispers, “You know I’ll cover for you, but I need you to promise me that you’ll be safe.”

Much like Armitage, and even like Boris, or Mr. Henry, you find yourself once again wondering how you got so lucky to have friends so willing to look out for you. You would do the same for any of them in a heartbeat, of course, but something about the knowledge that Gwen would lie to Mrs. Parker, or even Robert – something that could risk her job – made your heart clench.

“I promise.” You whisper.

She looks at you hard, trying to see what thoughts are going on inside your head, before letting the conversation go entirely, picking up her cards once again, determined to beat you at a few more hands before pulling up to the shuttle stop.

------------------

The morning passes uneventfully, as the mornings typically do. Today though, there’s an undeniable pep in your step, a glow about you that the other janitors notice. It’s not that they hadn’t noticed you before, they had of course – but with Gwendoline around, usually she absorbed all the attention. It was flustering to be on the receiving end of it, listening as the boys in the halls got a little too chummy with you, thinking your smiles were for them. Things like:

“Lookin’ good (Y/N)!”

“Where are you off to with a smile that big?”

“Fancy a smoke with me and the boys?”

Are whistled and shot your way, much to your amusement -- funny what a little confidence and a pair of heels could do!

You politely reject everyone’s advances, diligent about getting your work done and doing it well. The sooner you finish everything on your clipboard, the sooner you can get to the lab. It’s on your list, as you knew it would be, but it’s so far down and comes after so many other tasks, that you feel as though Mrs. Parker knew you were eager to return to the tank and the man inside of it.

Thoughts of the man consume you, as you go about your list. Nothing was too strenuous today which you were grateful for, it wouldn’t do to be too exhausted to spend time with him. So, as you empty all the little trashcans and ashtrays, as you clean windows and glass panes in offices, as you take the great dust broom to the floors, you let yourself wonder about him.

What were they doing to him today? Were they going to hurt him again? Would he kill someone again?

The last time you saw him, he was wounded, and that bacta shit had healed him. Would they be wounding him further, or did they have what they needed? You wondered if the scientists in the lab would be so careless as to leave their notes out again. The boys back home would be more than interested in reading further developments, you were sure.

Reminded of the boys, you feel more determined than ever to figure out what’s going on with this man, why he’s there in the first place. Surely he must be Russian, why else would the government be so keen on keeping him as contained as he is? Although, you don’t recall ever seeing a plane like the one that was being dissected in that warehouse, so maybe he wasn’t.

Maybe he wasn’t human at all…the thought pops into your head, and you blink it away.

The stories of alien life in Area 51 were just that – stories. No matter how often you liked to joke about them with Gwen, that’s all that it was, just jokes. Still, that ion engine, the strange shape of the wings, the strange gel that seems to have otherworldly healing properties…it raised so many questions that you simply didn’t have any answers to.

As you sweep the floors, back and forth and back and forth with your big dust broom, you wonder if perhaps you’ll be able to speak to the man. Perhaps he could give you some answers, perhaps you could help him.

You have no idea how you could, but maybe if the two of you worked together, you could figure out a way. One thing was for certain, you felt something for this mystery man. A sense of protection, a bond of some sort. It didn’t have a name, didn’t have much to define it at all – but it was there. Much like the dream, that reoccurring dream, it was indefinite and blurred around the edges, but it was there all the same.

For a brief moment, you wonder what the man dreams about.

You wonder if he dreams at all, in the tank.

------------------

Time passes strangely, in the building. You’re certain that you’ve just gotten there, had just hopped off the shuttle with Gwen – but in the blink of an eye, it’s lunch time. Gwendoline very shyly lets you know that she’s going to be having lunch with Mary, and true to your word the other day, you’re nothing but encouraging.

Besides, it means that you could spend your lunch in the lab, it was the next place on your list anyway, no one could be angry with you for being there, no one could accuse you of being out of place. In the locker room though, you find yourself frozen, standing in front of the little metal locker that you call yours. There’s a compact in your purse, and you pull it out, look at yourself, really look at yourself.

You feel so foolish for all this, especially when you open Gwen’s locker and find one of her tubes of lipstick. She always keeps a couple in her locker for emergencies, something you found silly, but now are eternally grateful for. Picking out a shade that best compliments your skin tone, you apply it carefully. The damn thing is likely going to smudge anyway while you eat your lunch, but at the very least you’ll look put together when you first arrive at the lab.

He better be appreciative of all this, you think to yourself with a nervous chuckle, he better care about all the effort you’re going through. Gwen would tell you that men never care, but she’s not here right now, off playing footsie in the courtyard with Mary.

As you walk the halls down in the bowels of the building, you realize how utterly alone you are in here. Everyone is on lunch, all the scientists, the janitors, the management. Not a single soul is in these halls, the greenish bluish light no competition for the sunshine that waits them near the picnic tables outside. You don’t mind, not one bit, and in fact it thrills you, the thought that you might be with him all alone.

Swiping your keycard through the little number pad, the doors beep and slowly open. Three layers of bulletproof steel slide open, one set horizontally, one set vertically, and one set diagonally. This lab would likely be perfectly impenetrable, in case of an attack, but you recognize that as well designed as it is to keep things out, it is also designed to keep things in.

Things like the man, who finally, after what seems like a lifetime, you will get to see again.

The lab is, much like the rest of this wing of the building, empty.

Once again you are faced with the mechanical nature of it all, the dark grey metal walls and floor, the tables with all sorts of piles stacked high atop them. The lighting is dark, kept dim, even dimmer than the halls outside. You hold your breath as the doors shut behind you, as they lock time and time again, sealing the lab away from the rest of the world.

You park your janitorial cart against the wall, your brown paper bag lunch clutched in your hands, just for something to hold, something to keep your hands occupied so that they don’t shake.

"Hello?" You call out gently, hopefully.

The tank is on the far end of the lab, and you take care to approach it cautiously. There are a million bubbles filling the tank, the bacta gel having been disturbed, and recently. Those bubbles trap the air and make the gel look nearly white with all the foam. You have to get closer, have to approach the glass, straining to see inside it.

“It’s just me, I’ve come back to visit you.” You try again, this time speaking a little louder. Maybe he just couldn’t hear you, through the glass and the gel.

Bracing yourself for him to scare the shit out of you with a startling appearance, you nearly press your nose to the tank. But seconds go by, and there is no activity. A deep deep sense of disappointment and fear spike through your body – if he was not here, where was he? What had they done to him? Where had they taken him? Was he alright -- ?

The immediate string of questions is interrupted by a splashing sound coming from your left, and you whirl around, clutching the brown paper bag to your chest.

He is out of the tank, but he is still here, still in the room with you. For whatever reason, he has been moved from the tank to the pool, and you know this because as you watch with wide eyes, he rises up out of the water, standing up to his full height on his two legs, strong legs, powerful thighs that flex and carry his body towards you.

Remaining perfectly still, you do your best not to gasp. You had thought perhaps, the glass from the tank had distorted his proportions, maybe he wasn’t nearly as big as you had thought. But you’re wrong, he’s even bigger somehow, in the flesh, in front of you. He must be over six feet tall, and twice as wide as the normal man, or at least, twice as wide as any man you had ever seen.

But the most unexpected thing of all, is that he is not wearing the mask.

You have a clear, unobstructed view of his face for the first time, and it takes your breath away. He is utterly, completely, totally handsome. Your imagination could have never come up with the configuration of his features, never in a million years. His nose, so strong and proud looks slightly broken from the front, but when he shakes the water away from his hair and you catch sight of his profile, it is beautifully sloped and triangular. His lips have to be the most full and plush that you’ve ever seen, his ears are large as they poke out from the dark drenched blackness of his hair.

You’re staring, you know you are, but he doesn’t seem deterred. In fact, he’s staring right back at you, looking at you with soulful brown eyes that seem to be sharper than anything you’ve ever seen, eyes that seem to be taking you in with the same level of intensity that you do him.

“Oh!” You realize that he can hear you now, you realize that this is the chance you’ve been hoping for, so you reach out your hand for him to shake, and offer him a friendly, “Hello.”

The man’s eyes track the movement in a way that can only be described as predatory, as an apex creature focusing all their energy on their prey. Strangely though, you don’t feel like prey. Keeping your hand extended, you take slow even breaths, showing him that you mean no harm, showing him that you won’t hurt him.

You’re not like those men, those scientists, you won’t hurt him.

“My name is (Y/N). It’s a pleasure to meet you.” You introduce yourself, speaking as carefully and clearly as you can. “What’s your name? Can you understand me?”

The man simply looks at you, as if in a trance of some kind. You look around, check over your shoulder to make sure, absolutely sure, that no one is around.

Once you’re determined that the coast is clear, and this man continues to take in the sight of you, you move one step forward, closer to the edge of the pool.

“Can you understand me now?” These words come in another language, a switch of your tongue that would have you arrested on site if anyone had heard.

He frowns, confused, and you wonder if this is the first time anyone has tried being polite to him since his capture. You’re about to retract your hand, when suddenly, he lifts his own, his arm tensing as he reaches for you – only to be stopped by long chains that are attached to cuffs on each of his wrists, and to the metal collar he wears around his throat.

The man looks at his bindings, and strains against them with a strangled shout of frustration. His muscles bulge, but it’s to no avail, whatever he has been shackled in, is too strong for him to break through. You have to sit, your legs unable to support you for the moment as you take him all in. Settling on a step near the edge of the pool, you lean in enough for this man to do the same. He too sits, just on the other side of the edge, as close to you as the chains will allow.

Reaching your hand further, further, further still, the man freezes as you place a palm to his cheek. The skin of his scar is smooth, and you find that surprising, as you stroke his face. Eyes closing, the man lets out a shaky shuddering exhale, nuzzling into your palm. He reminds you of a bear trapped in spiked teeth out in the forest, or a lion in the cage of a circus.

“Why do they have you chained and collared like this, why are you here?” The Russian flows freely now, you no longer hold it back the way that you might have in front of anyone else.

Then, suddenly, the strangest noises come out of his mouth. You think that he might be in pain for a minute, but then you realize no, he is speaking to you, impassioned and desperate, his voice is deep, rumbling, coming from the depths of his chest, a baritone that vibrates down inside your bones.

This is the voice that you heard in your dream, you realize. The voice parroting your words back to you, now you know why it had sounded so strange, so off. This man didn’t speak English, and he had only been mimicking the sounds, not knowing what it meant. You’re not sure what this man speaks, and it pains you, it pains you to not share this with him.

“I – I’m sorry I don’t understand.” You have to cut him off, putting your hand over his mouth to interrupt him, to get him to stop. You’re not sure if he even knows what you’re saying, if he can understand but not translate it out of his own mouth, you don’t know. “I’m familiar with ten different languages but yours isn’t one of them, I’m sorry.”

The man looks so sad, devastated, and that at least feels like maybe he can understand you. All at once, you recognize that if he can understand you, there may be hope. Perhaps if you both learn to communicate in a way that doesn’t rely on words, perhaps if you can find a way, you can help him.

That will require some planning, great planning, careful planning.

The man is watching you, he rests his head on the ledge of the pool, his black hair slinking and sliding down the strong muscles of his back. It is as if he is telling you to not be afraid of him, the very same way you were trying to tell him not to be afraid of you.

It strikes you, for a moment, how human he is. Even if by some cosmic improbability he is an alien, he is human. His stomach growls then, loudly, so loudly that it makes you laugh, and you shut yourself up immediately, afraid of scaring him with the noise. He doesn’t go anywhere though, his eyes only widen, making you smile.

The man mimics the motion, smiling back at you, a small laugh of his own.

He has dimples, you think, as you only grow more and more attached to him, and his teeth are so crooked.

“Here, I don’t know what kind of shit they feed you, but you must be hungry.” You rifle through the little brown paper bag that you’ve been holding in a death grip this entire time, pulling out the first thing you see. The clementine fills your palm, you offer it to him cautiously, encouraging, “Go ahead, you can have it, I promise it’s okay.”

The man, wherever he has come from, must not have seen one of these before, because he takes it in his hand and immediately goes to bite through the rind. Your hand flies out and grabs his before he can do so, and despite it all, you laugh again.

He scowls, thinking you’re making fun of him, so you simply shake your head and demonstrate how to peel the hard outer flesh of the fruit away.

“Don’t make fun of me for the way I peel it, I can never get it to come off in one go.” You mutter, wondering wondering wondering if he can understand you.

Watching diligently and carefully, he sits patiently at the edge of the pool, his palm extended, resting near your hands. Piece by piece you peel the clementine, always trying to get it in one spiral but failing, as usual. Eventually, once the floor has been littered with peel and the clementine is bare, you pry the citrus into segments, and place one in his hand.

It looks so small, comically small in the man’s palm, even smaller as he raises the piece to his mouth and pops it in between his teeth, the juice squirting into your face, making you laugh once again. The man’s face lights up immediately, already asking with those strangled sounding words that you cannot understand, a language foreign to even your ears.

“It’s good right?” You hope that that’s what he’s saying, you hope that he likes it. Giving him the whole thing, you watch as he delicately pulls the segments apart. “Bright and sweet. It’s just about the only thing bright in this whole place, hm?”

Instead of eating the entire thing as you would have expected him to do, the man thoughtfully gives you half of the segments. You notice that they are the larger pieces, the ones that must be more flavorful, juicier. He is kind, you decide, kind enough to offer you the better of the halves at the very least.

“Why are you here?” You whisper, knowing he cannot answer. “Why do they torture you so?”

There are no fresh wounds this time, you are glad to see. Nothing healing or inflicted, just the smoothed over scars. You long to touch them, the pink lines that mar his flesh, but he is a person of agency, and you will not disrespect him the way that these scientists do.

So instead, you offer your hand out to him once more, and after careful consideration, the man presses his cheek against your palm. Your thumb rubs soothing circles against the little beauty marks and freckles that pepper his skin, and you sigh.

“I’m going to figure out a way for us to communicate. I don’t know how, but I will.” You tell him, tell yourself, “You won’t be alone, I’ll help you, I just need to figure out how.”

Out in the hall beyond the sealed off lab, a bell chimes, signaling that lunch is over. Regret and disappointment rise up in your throat like acid, you don’t want to leave him, you don’t want to go away from him. He has been in your dreams, all this time, it has been him, of this you’re now sure. But you have a job, you have a responsibility, and you cannot lose it now.

Pulling away, he makes a noise of protest, and this is a noise you can understand.

“I have to clean. You can watch me, if you’d like, but I can’t just sit here all day, or else they’ll be very angry with me.” You explain to him, willing him to understand, “And if they’re angry, then I can’t visit again.”

The man sighs, chews on the segmented clementine.

With that, you move to the other side of the lab where you’ve parked your cart. The only thing on the list is to mop the floors, and you find that you hate that, you wish there were more, wish that you could have more time. You never thought you’d think this, but you hate how efficient you’ve become, how they’ve entrusted you with the jobs they know you are quick at. It is a double edged sword, because if you weren’t good at it, then maybe they wouldn’t have assigned this lab to you in the first place.

Dunking your mop in the solution that you make yourself – vinegar and baking soda, and a little dish soap – you begin to work, the thing you’re actually there for. It is very obvious that he’s watching you, from his spot in the pool. He walks back and forth, almost stalking you, his hulking frame tethered to you by an invisible string. When you go to the right, so does he. When you double back to the left, he goes as well. You smile, hoping that he finds the incredible mundanity of it all not so mundane.

“You’re very handsome. I’m only saying this because I know you’ve got no idea what it is that I’m saying, otherwise I’d be dying of embarrassment. But you’re handsome.” You admit when your back is turned to him, swishing the mop this way and that, picking up the little stains and debris that have stuck to the floor in the time since it was last mopped. “I was wondering what your face looked like, without the mask.”

You continue to mop, and he continues to watch you.

In a strange sense, it is almost like a dance. The sound of the water splashing as he moves back and forth, as he creates little waves and currents, acts as a rhythm, a steady beat to which you mop. His breathing is calm, and he seems to be in a relaxed mood. Maybe he has been hypnotized by the repetitive motions that you make, or maybe, a hopeful part of you thinks, maybe he feels completely at ease with you.

The thought sours in the back of your throat, because you know that once you have finished this, you will have to leave.

You prolong it, you try your best, you really do. But eventually there comes a point in which you cannot procrastinate any longer, you cannot draw it out. The floor is mopped, your clipboard is checked.

Carefully, walking over the freshly mopped tiles slowly and deliberately so that you don’t slip, you sit on the edge of the pool once again, something painful like sorrow making your head hurt.

“I’m done.” You whisper, “I have to go now.”

He’s alarmed by this, the man. He seizes forward, rushes to reach for you with wide panicked eyes, but the chains around his neck yank him back, and he stumbles for a moment, nearly loses his footing in the water. You could cry, with the desperation in the words that he speaks, with the way he reaches for you with bound hands.

You lean as far into the pool as you can, your arms wrapping around him, nearly toppling over into the water with how far forward you are. You don’t care, so what if you should fall? You cannot bear to see him so sad, and so you pull him into an embrace. He holds you tightly, hands curling in your hair, breathing in your smell.

“I know, I know I’m sorry – I don’t want to leave you. But I’ve got more work to do.” Your voice wobbles, hating this, hating how he’s chained, hating how he’s going to be all alone, how he’s going to be tortured and harmed in your absence. You hate it, and he doesn’t want to let you go, you can tell by how strong of a grip he has on you as he talks and talks and talks in a language you don’t know.

There is nothing you can do today though, to help him. For the first time in your life, you feel overwhelmingly insignificant, in the way that you can’t do anything to help him.

“I’ll come back tomorrow, even if it’s not on the list, okay? I’ll come back, I promise.” Your hands cup his cheeks, looking at one another, your eyes boring into his. “I’ll always come back.”

You let go of him now though, and you turn your back to him, mopping up your steps so that the footprints do not give you away.

Swiping your keycard through the number pad once more, the doors open for you, and you do your best not to cry when you hear his pained shout muffled behind the steel.

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren/reader #kylo ren x you #kylo ren/you #kylo ren fanfiction #kylo ren reader insert #supreme leader kylo ren #shape of water au #sow au #my writing #kylo ren angst #kylo ren fluff #adam driver fanfiction #adcu

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roses-ruby · 5 years ago

Text

sinner;

Jungkook x Female Reader

Genre: Cop AU, An onslaught of Angst, Thriller, Mature

Warnings: Obsessive/Possessive behavior, Toxic relationships, Yandere, Stalking, Emotional and Physical abuse, MiSoGYny, Violence, Bad parents, Bad cops, Kidnapping

Word Count: 11,000

Summary: No matter where you run, the past will find you.

The dark clouds approached along the light blue fabric of the sky.

You watched them from your car window, dreading the downpour you’d have to drive home through tonight. With a sigh, you open the door and step out of your 2012 Hyundai Accent, planting your soles firmly onto the cemented parking lot. Your rustic car shakes with the loss of weight and the door creaks at the hinges once you slam it shut.

Somehow the old you had managed to entertain yourself with the thought that receiving a promotion would ultimately be able to afford you a better car, but no – you were stuck with the same failing engine, same worn out tires, same chipped paint aside the right headlight and occasional oil leaks.

Old you was a fool, you think, placing your hands in your coat pocket and walking towards the station in a swift, rigid pace. The air was chilly, and the strong breeze hit your face in unpleasant streaks. You kept your head down, arms clinging to the sides of your body to warm you up. There were barely any people outside the station, just a couple of men in blue quickly ensuring victims or witnesses. Years on the force had given you the eye to spot the differences between your average citizen and a perp with ease.

Perps always had an emptiness in their gaze. A vacant spot that erased their crime from their own mind. Defense mechanism they call it. You weren’t a stranger to that emotion yourself.

With no time to waste, you rush up the steps. As you pull the door of the station open, your ears are immediately filled with chatter, paper clatter and ringing phones. More importantly your body is filled with warmth. Like it was memorized in your head, you sift through the desks and file cabinets with ease, trudging past several rushing bodies on your way to a hallway down the right. Reaching the end of the corridor, you see the four men you were expecting through the clear glass window in front of their room. They were laughing at something one of them had said, a laughter that came to a full stop the moment you burst into the chief’s office.

All eyes were on you.

“There you are, detective! Right on time.” The chief, a charismatically aged character, calls out your last name as he leans back in his creaky leather chair.

“Not like she has anything better to do…” Hyun, the Sergeant’s younger partner, remarks underneath his breath.

“It’s my day off chief…this better be good.”

“Why? Did you have a date?” You catch Hyun’s sarcastic eyes before he bursts into a fit of laughter at your unamused face.

“Like you ever get laid.” Jimin scoffs at him with a raised eyebrow from the opposite side of the room.

“Motherfucker I got laid last night!” Hyun shouts like that was the funniest thing he’s said while Jimin holds back his growing smile.

“Yeah? Your asshole still hurt?” Sarge slams Hyun in the back as they all break out into mutual cackles. Hyun fights back by pushing his older partner into a cabinet while making derogatory remarks.

You try not to scowl at the suffocating testosterone in the air as you watch the boys play around.

“All right, all right, quiet down.” The chief shouts, rubbing his forehead wrinkles with his fingers and looking back at you like he suddenly remembered you exist. “___- uh…we got a little situation for you.”

He reaches to the left of his desk and picks up a file before throwing it up ahead on the table. There was a sudden coating of thick silence around the room as your eyes roam from the detectives scrutinizing you, back to the thick manilla folder thrown out in front of you. You carefully walk up to where the file laid, picking it up and examining the name on the small name card clipped at the top left.

“Jeon Jungkook?”

You question in surprise. Your orbs fly from the chief’s empty face to the white name card.

“How much do you know about Jeon?” The chief asks slowly. You recognize that tone of voice. That tone you’ve witnessed multiple times in interrogation with a suspect. The aura in the room felt strange.

You drop the file to your side so you can look the chief right in the eyes.

“What do you mean? I know that he’s the most accomplished assassin-for-hire to this date. I know that he has his dirty hands everywhere across the East. I know that he’s responsible for Asia’s most influential triad trade. I know that he’s taken down too many of our own and I know he should be jammed into a cage for the rest of his life, chief.”

The chief exhaled, some tension leaving his facial features as he leans further back in his chair and shuts his eyes. You studied the man in pity. Was this how you were bound to end up in a few years? Bald, stressed, only black coffee in your system, suspicious of everyone and everything with a failing marriage and kids who won’t speak to you?

Half of that was actually how you lived like right now.

“I’m sorry, ___. You know how many rumors there are of officers under Jeon’s thumb. Patrollers, lieutenants, even agents…they are all chummy with that bastard. I can’t help but be careful.”

“What do you mean? What does this have to do with me, chief?” You furrowed your eyebrows, still not understanding what was happening or why you were called in on your day off for an ‘urgent’ matter.

“We caught him.” Sarge interjects, “Tip came in this morning about a deal in the abandoned mill off the northwest. He surrendered as soon as we showed up, no casualties.”

You couldn’t stop your mouth from dropping. Did you hear that correctly? Jeon Jungkook, who had been on the world’s most wanted list for 6 years now just happened to be caught in your city, at the abandoned mill in the middle of the day? It was hard to believe but Sarge didn’t seem like he was joking.

“T-that’s great…w- is he in custody right now? Here?”

“He is. But we have a problem though…” You look back at the chief who was staring right at you. “He won’t talk.”

“I mean we expected that, right? He did the same thing in Hong Kong. Wha- is...is he pleading the fifth or-”

“That’s the thing, he surrendered but didn’t make any attempts to cooperate, he’s just been sitting stationary on his ass for 3 hours. The deputy had to phone it in as soon as he got here, so Kane’s bound to show up at any minute. They’ll take him away to some fucking facility and we’ll just have to stick out our tongues and wag our tails while the big boys do the real work. Damn! We couldn’t find jack shit when raiding the fucking mill!” The chief rambled, still massaging his forehead like he had a headache. “And that deadly weapon expert? All he had on him was an old handkerchief.”

He snorted but there was no amusement in his voice. But suddenly his vigor died down and his eyes stared off into the distance.

“…There’s only one thing he said the entire time he’s been in that interrogation room.”

“…What did he say?” You ask carefully, noticing the way everyone present was glaring holes into you.

“He said he’ll only speak to you.” The chief leans towards you, placing his elbows on his desk with his eyes slightly squinting and an unspoken question on his lips.

Suddenly the room turns cold and you feel like you were outside in that freezing chill once again. Your mind runs a mile a minute and your skin breaks out into goosebumps. It all makes sense just then. The threatening atmosphere, the stare downs, the discerning. They all had one question staining their mind. Why would the world’s most powerful hitman and black arms dealer want to talk to some random low-grade rookie detective?

Hell, you didn’t know yourself.

“Me? Why would he want to speak to me?”

“He said he knows you.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from scoffing. That was ridiculous. If you met someone like Jeon Jungkook before, you would remember it…wouldn’t you?

“Chief, I’m telling you, I don’t know what he’s talking about.”

“Then how could he know your full name?” Hyun interrupts

You glare at him from your position in the middle of the room. “How am I supposed to know dumbass?”

He smirks, his disgusting gaze sharpening. “Maybe he just knows how to sniff out the cunts.”

“Watch your fucking mouth Hyun.” Jimin steps between you both in a flash. He was facing away from you, but you could tell he was pissed by how he clenched his fists. Hyun scoffs, the corner of his lips picking up.

“I sniff two.”

It all happens in the blink of an eye. Jimin tries to leap at him but you barely manage to hold your partner back by the shoulder. Smart mouth also gets up from where he was leaning before Sarge rushes up to the younger. They both glare at each other like they were ready to kill while you grimace looking at each of their loaded holsters. The fact that these men were allowed to open carry was the most terrifying part.

“Enough!” The chief shouts, standing from his desk, “Hyun learn how to shut your yap hole for once, and Park, I need you to back off. There’s already a lot of tension in this room cause of Jeon…let’s handle that motherfucker first, officers.”

He warns Jimin to which you hold him tighter, whispering at him to let it go. Eventually the blonde simmers down – they both do, and you watch the way the chief exhales defeatedly.

“___, is there any reason at all- anything you can think of- and really think now, all the way back to before you transferred here- as to why Jeon Jungkook would want to speak to you? Why he would say he knows you?”

“None, chief.” You state calmly. There was nothing to think about, you didn’t know him.

The man stares at you for a moment before nodding. “Alright then, officer. I’ll need you in that interrogation room immediately. Maybe you can find an answer to this whole mess of a situation.”

“What the hell chief?” Hyun immediately complains, “I brought him in! I should be the one questioning him! You can’t just do that to me-” He growls, stepping up to the boss’ desk.

“Shut it!” Sergeant smacks the back of his big head while you breathe through your nose to keep calm.

Hyun always made his dislike for you obvious. It was difficult to pinpoint the exact reason he hated you because there were one too many. You were a stickler for rules and tradition, a woman (more specifically a woman who has made more arrests than him), and not the type to try and fit in. He hated how you didn’t fall in line and mostly kept to yourself – private and introverted. Whatever, you didn’t give a fuck about what he thought of you. Although you were used to Hyun’s moronic nature, it was still rarely this chaotic and tense in your station. Everyone seemed to be at one another’s neck. The most thrill you all had was capturing a local drug dealer a few years back.

But then again, Jeon Jungkook was far from your average criminal.

“You were in there for 2 and a half fucking hours with the captain himself, Hyun. What did you get out of it?” Chief groans

“I-I just need a little more time, just a li-”

“Time we don’t have!” The older man yells at the top of his lungs. “I know you’re the one who cuffed him and I’m real happy for that 20 second thrill you got but you can’t just get your panties in a twist when things don’t go your way. ___ here is just as capable of an officer as you. If she can get him to talk and we can gain some info on him and his little gang before those FBI pigs show up – just think of what that could mean for the team…”

Hyun scowled at the elder for a minute before contemplating on what was just said. Pursing his lips, he took a step back with a face that screamed defeat. “Yes, chief.” He mumbles.

“Good. Now ___,” The attention was once again placed on you. “We don’t have much time. Get out there and find out what that son of a bitch is thinking.”

“Yes, chief.”

“But listen, this man knows your name meaning it’s safe to say he knows your identity. He’s smart and he’s dangerous. Don’t get caught in any of his traps. We’ll be listening from the other side of the wall so if you feel like something’s off, signal us at any time, alright?”

His order had all the men in the room frowning for different reasons. Jimin had on his usual concerned face and even Sarge seemed worried. The thought of any stranger knowing your identity terrified you. But these were the last people on earth you would tell that to. You paid their disturbed expressions no mind as you nodded in determination, pulling your posture straight and holding your head up high.

“Yes, chief.”

You clench the file towards your chest.

There was an unsettling feeling you felt standing outside the door of interrogation room 4. Same one you had felt the first time you became a detective and were ordered to interrogate some big burly guy who had slashed his ex-girlfriend’s tires. Even though you thought you had left your past behind, here it was, surrounding you in an uncomfortable heat. This wasn’t just some petty thief who robbed a local convenience store or some middle-aged man who tried to choke his wife to death.

No. This was much, much bigger than that.

Jeon Jungkook, also known as JJK was a notorious hitman with several successful operations carried out around the world. In Washington, Libya, Hong Kong, Brazil and even Rome. He made the most wanted list when he was only 19 and was infamous for getting the job done. None of the men in his list survived…ever. Not only was he a perfectionist in his handiwork but also knew how to deal with the preparation.

A master of weapons; he could operate a H&K P7 in his sleep and take down 10 operatives with a single combat knife. His knowledge of artillery made him a big deal amongst the triads so setting up a little side business as a black arms dealer was a walk in the park for him. He was strong, fast, smart and feared. Not even the finest could catch him and at times months would go on by without a sighting.

Yet suddenly…he was just behind this door.

And who did he desperately want to see?

You.

By name.

Of all people.

Now you consider yourself a logical person. Someone guided by intellect before anything else. You did the math, worked on the equation, pondered on the systematics but nothing clicked. Nothing. There was absolutely no reason for someone like him to want to meet you but then again, the whole situation was the strangest fucking thing you’ve seen.

Surrendering at an abandoned mill in your jurisdiction would be the last place you’d think Jeon Jungkook would be captured. In your mind, his destiny was meant to end on a grander scale at the edge of the world. Some Hollywood theatrical-like bullshit where they would have him cornered on some rooftop with multiple choppers and snipers ready to take him down. This however – the threatening but anticlimactic atmosphere… it didn’t make any sense. Not for someone as careful and calculated as Jungkook.

For some reason, it just felt like he was waiting on something…something big to happen. A sensation of doom coursed throughout your body. Everything about today felt wrong. Like you and your colleagues were caught right in his talons.

By far, the most bizarre part about the situation was how he knew your name and you. You’ve always kept such a lowkey profile, it just didn’t make any sense.

“___?” The sound of your name startles you and you whip towards your side to see your partner dressed in his usual face of worry. “You alright?”

“…I’m good.” You choke out, trying to sound as lucid as possible.

It doesn’t seem to convince him however as he tilts his head and frowns at you.

“Listen, if you don’t want to talk to him, you don’t have to. Chief shouldn’t have pushed you into this bullshit – why do we even have to listen to what a criminal wants anyway? I-”

“Jimin, calm down. I’m fine.”

“Bu-”

“Your mollycoddling doesn’t help as much as you think it does, Park.”

Your words seem to have surprised him, his stubborn expression morphing into denial.

“That’s…I didn’t mean…”

You shut your tired eyes, feeling bad about the way you spoke to your only friend at the station. This is exactly why everyone thought you were way too rigid and unapproachable. Jimin however was too much of a nice guy, always going out of his way to make friendly with you. It always made you wonder – why would a well-liked, popular and talented guy such as Jimin want to hang around you or even ask the chief to be your partner? Maybe it was pity he felt for you.

That feeling was not something you desired. It left a nauseous impression down your throat. All you wanted was to do your job the best you could, go home, take your pills and sleep your days away. You didn’t want anyone’s kindness or company, you just wanted it to be over. Park Jimin’s sincerity was a hindrance.

“I’m sorry it’s just…I’m real tired of getting treated like this. I get it, I’m a woman and somehow that means I’m a less than, a cause for concern or just a fucking HR liability. I fucking get it without every single one of you reminding me every damn day.”

“You know that’s not what I meant, ___.” Jimin stares at you apologetically

“Then please, Jimin. Let me do my job.” You hold his stare until he eventually sighs, giving you a nod and retreating.

Once he walks away, you let out a shaky exhale, reaching towards the door handle with trembling fingers. Get it together, you whisper to yourself. After all the tough talk, the truth was you weren’t ready. You were scared shitless. Maybe Hyun was right about you.

Maybe your father was.

Drowning out every negative thought, you turn the door handle and push the door open.

You were immediately greeted by the usual silent man on the interrogation chair. His dark orbs were soundlessly watching the wall ahead of him. When you step into the room, he turns his head to look at you. Once he notices you, he instantly breaks out into a smirk. Clenching your file harder, you physically stop yourself from shivering.

You had seen him before, in blurry internet sightings and news coverages. But never up close and personal…and never smiling. It was like you entered a whole different world; the room you were pretty familiar with felt like a surreal fantasy. He was drop dead gorgeous. Lethal, you could say. His face was round, and features were sharp. A prominent nose, pink lips, sharp jaw and intense, smoldering eyes. Midnight black hair shyly covered his temple as he sat upright and confident in his chair.

He was dressed rather casually – a dark blue denim jacket that molded around his muscles and black top that covered his long neck. Tight fitted black pants that were ripped at the knees, displaying his thick, strong thighs and the heaviest leather boots you’ve ever seen. His hands were cuffed to the table so everyone can see them at all times. All he did was sit still but somehow commanded your whole attention. You gulped involuntarily at the sight before you.

You’ve never seen a man more comfortable in his own skin.

When he notices you ogling, he raises a brow in amusement. It alarms you, your eyes shooting to the large mirror on the other side of the wall. They were probably watching you…waiting for you to mess up.

Not wanting to throw them anymore bones, you clear your throat. Walking in and sitting down opposite to Jungkook. You don’t give him the time of day, pretend not to notice his bottomless orbs following your every move as you flip the file open a couple pages. As you continue to ignore him, you swear you could hear him tsk under his breath.

“So… Jeon Jungkook. Aged 23. Professional hitman. Side arms dealer. Wanted by the CIA, FSB, NSA and the Navy seals. Says here you’ve pissed off a lot of people, Jungkook.”

This was routine. The lighthearted police tone you always used. Very rarely would officers come off strongly when interrogating perps unless they were fucking morons. It was better if everyone just cooperated like this was an elementary school’s playground and none of the children got violent. Perps had to feel comfortable enough to spill it all. Being approachable, calm and levelheaded was normal for an efficient detective.

It was normal.

But it didn’t feel normal. You found yourself cringing at your voice, at the way you spoke. Your words felt so out of place and awkward. For some reason, you were hyper aware of everything you were doing. Maybe it was because you were under Jungkook’s extremely scrutinizing gaze or maybe because you knew Hyun was probably sounding out some sarcastic remarks about your abilities behind that mirror. Whatever it was, you didn’t feel good. Yet you continued on like everything was fine.

“You’ve been quite the busy boy, haven’t you?” You continue on, flipping through the file and swallowing the uneasiness.

“Like you wouldn’t believe, doll.”

His pet name for you stops you in your tracks. In the middle of turning a page that hung in midair. Slowly, you look up at him from beneath your lashes and he has on that same damn smirk. Stress-free posture and concentrated gaze. Looks like he was comfortable.

“…Really? Mind telling me about it?”

He continues to stare at you for a moment before letting out a humorous sigh. Jungkook leans forward, resting his elbows on the table and rolling his tongue in his cheek.

“What would you like to know?”

“Whatever you have for me.” You reply back, leaning in and using in the same low tone he used. Mirroring the suspect, playing the game. No matter how shaken you were, you knew how to do your job.

Another smirk appears on his face before he props back on his chair.

“Mhmm, I don’t know how much I can tell you doll. We all have secrets you see, we all got someone to fool. Like you right now.”

As his words settle in, you become confused. And by the way he chuckles, you know he can see it.

“That face you have on, that cute look of determination. Flipping through those pages like you’re learning something new about me. Something that I myself might not know. Like you didn’t already memorize it front to back, way before you came in here...those eyes that are desperately trying to win us over…like you have so much to prove still.”

You were thrown off. The way he unflinchingly delivered his speech in the most persuasive way. There was a certain way you had expected this to go in your mind, a certain power your brain gave you over him but now you realize all your thoughts were dust. In reality, you couldn’t comprehend what the fuck he was going on about which gave him the upper hand.

Thus, you looked into his eyes for an answer. Genuine eyes that shone as clear as day. It made you realize that he had nothing to hide. There was nothing he was trying to erase.

It left you speechless.

Your face must have been very obvious because next thing you knew, he was answering the question that lingered your thoughts.

“Your uncertainty gives you away. I guess it’d be present in anyone who’s constantly been made to feel inferior. All your life, you’ve had to go above and beyond to be considered half as good as your colleagues with dicks. No matter how much pain and humiliation you’ve endured, everyone expects more from you. It would drive anyone mad.” He moves in further, practically whispering at this point. “It could make anyone commit sinful acts.”

“…sinful?”

“My mother used to tell me about them,” He relaxes back in his chair, “…before she left that is. She was big on religion so she’d tell me all about these people who did bad deeds- sinner, she would call them. She’d go on and on about how they look and how they act. How they don’t have a place in this world amongst the good, non-sinners. We’d know exactly how to identify them, wouldn’t we doll?”

In the bright center of interrogation room 4, your pools were glued on the stranger that knew too much but let on too little. Jungkook was the one in cuffs, but you were the one who was starting to feel trapped.

“You don’t know me. We’re not the same.” You said out loud.

He turns silent for a moment, before grinning. “I think we’re more alike than you are aware of, detective.”

“Don’t fall for any of his traps.”

“W-” You swallow, “We’re not here to talk about me…”

You tried sounding as rational and self-assured as before, but your voice was barely above a murmur. And after you spoke, he smiled. His smile was way too innocent compared to who you knew he was.

“So, you want to know about me?” He chuckled “What do you want to know?

This was your chance, you thought, surprised at how easily he seemed to be ready to change the subject matter. You began flipping through the folder nonchalantly again, trying to get back on track.

“How about you start at the mill. Who were you meeting with so early in the day, Jungkook?”

Suddenly, his eyes darken and the look on his face becomes sinister, but that smile never falls. You couldn’t help but shift in your seat at his unexpected gaze.

“If you really want to know about everything that led up to this morning…then we’d have to look back quite a bit. Maybe back years ago…to a kid whose mother was never around and whose father beat the living shit out of him twice a day.”

He throws his head back and breaks out into a laugh at your unimpressed face. You were all ears but the last thing you wanted to do was spend an uncomfortable hour or two in here. The man creeped you out, so if he could just hurry up and get on with it, maybe you could go finish your nap and forget about today.

“Okay, okay, hah,” He sits back up straight, trying to conceal his laughter, “We don’t have to go that far back, but yeah this kid had it hard. But he was never one of those cucks. As he grew older, he couldn’t just sit there and take it. No…it wasn’t like that for him…he had to fight back, and he did fight for what he could, no matter what it took. He-”

“Open this fucking door you little freak!”

The door’s pounding shook the whole room. His anxiety was through the roof as he watched the weak wood quiver each time the monster banged against it. It could break at any moment now and he was afraid. He always, always acted tough. Always fought back the best he could. But the truth was that he was just a skinny teenaged brat.

He didn’t want to fight. He wasn’t built for it.

“Fuck off!” The kid tried to sound as menacing as possible, but it came out a pathetic whimper and only seemed to anger the man on the other side of the locked door even further.

It was hilarious really; the kid couldn’t help but leak tears. He hadn’t eaten in days, it was his 4th beating of the week – he felt lightheaded and his body was on fire. All he wanted in that moment as he clenched his fists over his ears inside the dark bathroom was for the door to stay strong. For anyone to help him.

But as the lock broke and the wood let out a heinous whine and he was hit with sudden light and a large shadow, he realized circumstances do not work in your favor when you stand there and do nothing. And the moment he understood that, was the moment his life was about to drastically change. More accurately, the very next week.

When you entered his life.

“So- Jeon Jungkook, age 16, failing high school student…written up 4 times, visited juvie twice. Now, tell me why you beat up that kid, Jeon?” You stood up straight, writing away mindlessly in your small notebook.

The kid did nothing but stare at you through his bruised eye and busted lip, while he sat on the edge of your desk. It wasn’t his first time dealing with the cops and something inside him always knew it wouldn’t be his last. When you didn’t hear his answer, you huffed, looking up at him from the pages between your fingers.

“Well? I don’t have all night you know. I could just lock you in.”

He smirked. It was easy to tell you were new, he noticed as soon as you walked in and were told to book him by the guy who arrested him. Your uniform had been pressed with great care, not one hair was out of place and your badge was polished and perfectly positioned. It felt like you just came out of one of those corny films about the ‘good’ cops; fighting crime for justice and truth. The kid was even younger than he was at that moment when he realized just how full of bullshit that trope was.

One glance around the room, at the other pigs in uniform and he knew you had just gotten the job. That your spirits hadn’t been crushed unlike these soulless bodies wandering the station’s premises.

That was the best quality about the kid, he had always been observant. A lot more than his peers or even the adults in his life. He could tell a great deal about you at one glance. You seemed jittery and nervous, trying to write as neatly as possible. It felt like you were trying to get someone’s attention – a high ranking older officer, who you kept observing from the corner of your eye. As the kid watched that man chortle with his equally dull colleagues, he thought there was a resemblance in you both, but that there also wasn’t.

“Then why don’t you?” The kid replied a bit too sarcastically, wanting this to be over with as quickly as possible so maybe he could get some sleep for the first time in 3 days. It would do him a lot of good actually, being away from that house for a little while. Subtly, he was pleading.

“Look kid,” You grimaced, “I know that guy you beat up, he’s a racist little shit. He probably did something to you, I’m sure or you wouldn’t carry so many self-defense wounds along your hands. There might be some way I could help you; I want to help you. But only if you tell me what really happened, alright?”

It was silent just then. He was silent.

“I want to help you.”

He was expecting you to reprimand him for his smart mouth and then lock him up. That’s what anyone who took one glance at his file did. It was filled with crap about him, shit that they peered their nose over because they were so much better than him. The kid never trusted adults; they never did anything for him. He was the child that everyone discriminated against to remind themselves how lucky they were. At least my child’s not like that, is what they all thought. No one cared about his side of the story. No one but…you.

Your answer was something that caught him off guard for the first time in years.

“Why do you want to help me? I’m a criminal.”

“Oh yeah, you got a record,” You reply casually, flipping through your notes, “I glanced over it, it’s all for stealing food.”

Suddenly you became quiet. Taking a step back, you begin to study him up and down from where he sat.

“Is… is your dad not feeding you?”

Your gaze shifted further into concern and he held his breath. He’s never seen those eyes before on anyone – never for him. Shit, his own mother never looked at him like that. Like she felt something for him. Not even when the bitch ran off with the neighbor and left him with that monster – young, weak and helpless.

Having someone worry about him made him feel strange, his whole body broke out into a quiver and his eyes watered. That kid could see himself in the reflection of your eyes that had widened dramatically at the change in his demeanor. And he tried to stop himself but for some reason, he wanted you to worry about him.

“Uh- I..wai- don’t cry-'' Flustered, you scrambled around, trying to find a tissue. You were new at the job and you weren’t used to people breaking apart yet. Everyone around you seemed so busy, hustling around the station like they didn’t see a teenage boy in the start of a mental breakdown…that or they didn’t care. Finally, you grab the handkerchief your mom had stuffed inside your uniform pocket and carefully hold it out for him.

But you drop it in a flash when you witness him get struck across the face the very next instant.

“YOU FUCKING TROUBLESOME BRAT!”

You flinched at the loud, unforgiving voice that resounded throughout the station. Everyone instantly went noiseless and it felt like the station just halted for the first time in years. All you could hear were the lingering ringing of phones.

“How many times have I warned you not to make trouble? You’re a disgrace!” The man spit into the kid’s face. He was tall, maybe 6’2, and muscular compared to the teenager but stood unevenly, favoring his left foot and walked with a limp. His face bore a scar on the cheek that was partially covered with a jungle of facial hair. His eyes seemed insane with anger and he reeked of hard liquor. You had to remind yourself that you had a taser in your holster.

Slowly, you looked back at the kid whose fringe covered his eyes. He hadn’t moved an inch since the man slapped his face. A large red handprint on his already wounded skin. It pulled at your heartstrings.

“S-sir?” You cleared your throat to which the crazy man turned his sneer towards you. But you couldn’t let that faze you. “You can’t just hit a child like that, I need you to back away.”

That was the best you could do at sounding confident, but your strength wavered as soon as the man took a step towards you.

“You trying to tell me how to raise my son, girlie?”

The scent of alcohol clouded your senses. You opened and closed your mouth like a fish. Your body started trembling, but you still tried to stand your ground until-

“Jeon!”

Another loud voice interrupts you. This time though, you recognized that voice. Your dad steps between you and the snarling man and you almost cry out of relief. You gape at both of the men in awe, staring one another down. The tension wraps around your throat and you worry for the kid behind all of this. If a brawl breaks out, he’s likely to get injured…

For a second you tried peeking back at your desk over your dad’s shoulder, until you hear sudden robust laughter in front of you.

What the fuck?

“You son of a bitch, how’ve you been?” Your father daps his hand with the terrifying man and your face morphs into confusion.

The demeanor and the whole damn atmosphere between the men changed, just like that. All the suffocating animosity had vanished in an instant as if it never existed, which left you dumbstruck and standstill.

“I’ve been good you dick. You’re a lieutenant now, I see. No wonder I haven’t seen you around the parlor much.” The guy cackles loudly, making you cringe at his rotten teeth and bad breath.

“Ahh~ You know, the old ball and chain.” Your father so kindly refers to your mother, “Heh, actually I’m a sober man now! My oldest just became an officer like her father a month ago.” He moves to your side to pat you on the shoulder. You freeze under his touch and your wide pupils flicker between him and Jeon who took a newfound interest in you.

In any other instance, you would have been ecstatic to have your father compliment you. But right now, your brain had a hard time processing everything and you kept glancing at the stoic kid.

“This one yours?” The man smirks, eyeing you up and down in a disturbing way. You almost tasered him then and there. “She’s a bit noisy, isn’t she?”

Your dad laughs louder than before while you clench your fist.

“Relax, she’s just a kid – a whole rookie. She doesn’t know how all this works yet.”

You try not to grimace at his words. Here you were hoping he would have believed in you a bit more if you received a perfect score on the academy’s exam.

As his laughter dies down, your dad looks off to the side, just behind the giant man and raises his eyebrow. “And I take it this one’s yours?”

Jeon sighs, ruffling his hair with his calloused fingers. “Sadly. The kid’s a lost cause, ___. They can’t all be like your pretty little daughter. Every damn day hurting someone, busting balls, messing with the other kids…stealing. Just…you know after his mother left…”

He becomes mute suddenly. Staring at the ground in great concentration like he just got too emotional. Funny, you saw that look in another man last week. A man who lied about not murdering his wife. You tsk under your breath and look back at the kid, almost jumping out of your skin when you catch him staring right at you from where he sat. No more vulnerability in his young eyes. They were once again making the same hardened expression you saw when he first walked in here. Something felt very off.

Your attention flies back to the taller men when you feel your father shift towards the older Jeon.

“I understand.” He states sympathetically, placing a hand on his shoulder for comfort. “Take him home…”

It took you a second to snap out of your mute state.

“But dad, he-”

“Let them go, ___. This man here,” He signals at the guy, “He used to be one of the greatest and most respected officers of his time. Spent his best years serving. It’s the least he deserves. It’s alright.”

“No that’s not- Dad!” You begin flipping through your notebook, trying to show your father your notes, “Look at the kid’s fingers and arms! His face! He looks malnourished and some of those wounds look old- and- and this man’s obviously drunk and agressi-”

“___!” Your father shouts in rage, effectively shutting you up. “This is a command from your direct superior! They’re leaving.”

“But-”

At that moment he menacingly leans in, close enough to breathe in your ear.

“Don’t embarrass me further, child.” He whispers with pure venom.

And just like that, all the fight in you leaves. Your shoulders slump and head falls to the floor. There were tiny needles poking you everywhere and your face felt hot – ashamed. His words ring inside your head like a mantra and you want to just run away and hide.

All you did was disappoint him.

Your dad apologizes for you and the next thing you hear is the man grabbing the kid by the arm and you couldn’t help but physically wince at how much pain he would be in at the moment. He staggers out of earshot and you do nothing but look at the ground. How could you possibly face the kid now? After you told him you’d help him.

Because of that you don’t notice anything. You don’t notice the fact that your handkerchief was no longer on the floor. Nor do you notice the kid’s eyes which stayed on you the whole time he was being dragged out of the building.

You sat there, speechless.

Jungkook tilted his head, softening his gaze at your shaken form.

“He looked at you the whole time after that. Only you…but you never noticed.”

You on the other hand couldn’t hear shit he was saying. All you could think about was that vague, really fucking vague memory you had of the moment he described. Your mind was everywhere, on your father, on his father, on that event that you ended up failing to recall somehow, at your conversation with the chief earlier.

“All he had on him was an old handkerchief.”

How does someone process this? How did you forget this? There were countless of cases you’ve dealt with before, so many unusual moments that you just began throwing them out of your head for your very own sanity. That was the truth, but would anyone believe you? Jeon Jungkook was from your old hometown. Jeon Jungkook was someone you almost booked before. Jeon Jungkook was not someone who could’ve been forgotten. You, no longer in control of your facial expression, glance over at the mirror in horror. Would the chief actually think you lied?

In the back of your mind, you knew the real reason you chose to leave all the memories of your past behind – suppress them down and drown them out. But that information wasn’t something you could reveal to anyone. Ever. The one thing you were told to do was not fall into his trap, yet here you are. Your mind was a mess, which meant there was no way you could have the advantage in this situation, and you were no longer fit to interrogate him. Desperate and anxious, you place your palm on your forehead like you were in deep thought. In reality, that was the signal. You wanted to escape this place.

Jungkook glares at the side of your face, getting angrier the more you ignore him. Today was supposed to be different, his one free day where he could finally get you to notice him. And there you sat, still not looking his way. Didn’t you know you didn’t need to worry about anyone else when he was right here?

“Doll.” He practically sneers but then simmers down and smiles when you finally turn back to him – all wide eyed.

“I wanted to thank you.” He continues, “Because that day changed me forever…”

You said nothing. Wondering why the men on the other side were taking so long. He took your silence as a chance to finish his story.

“I took my beating…took all of it and said nothing. Broke my rib and wrangled my neck but I said nothing. He was drunk, so I waited for him to tire himself out…waited till he passed out on that fucking couch. Then I strangled him…with that very piece of cloth you gave me.”

This has got to be some fucking nightmare.

“And it felt really good.” His voice slightly waivered, “To watch him turn red and struggle, to watch that bastard’s life leave his eyes while in return he saw me become his demise.” He stops rambling suddenly as if recalling where he was, “Within a span of 8 minutes…I became a criminal for killing the monster who tortured me every single day. I was a sinner. I hit rock bottom. And once you’re there, it takes a lot of blood, sweat and tears to climb back up to the top.”

As you heard him rant on, your mind started to drift off. For some reason, once you slowly start to remember that tethered kid, you felt something you haven’t felt for a while. Sympathy? Sadness? Or were you just reminiscing about who you were back then. The bright young woman who had a lot to offer the world. You shake your head, looking down at the table. That girl was dead, you chose to forget her and went along with whatever life threw at you.

Your father was right to criticize your soft heart and if he were alive today you were sure he wouldn’t be able to identify you. No longer were you that naïve child who stubbornly believed that there was good in this world – in its people. It didn’t matter to you the reasons why someone committed a crime – criminals were just labeled orange jumpsuits. Jungkook had met a completely different person back then, not you.

Then why did your chest ache this much?

“J…Jungkook…I…didn’t remember…”

“I know,” He states ensuringly, making you look back up at him, “You left your past behind, after all.”

Suddenly, all the color left your face. Your heart started beating faster and you broke out into a cold sweat. You faintly thought you heard a bang behind the mirror, but you didn’t care. For the first time since you got here, your whole attention was solely on Jungkook.

It made him so happy.

“W-what…”

“It hurt when you transferred, leaving a big hole in my already impoverished life. But I understood your reasons. How can someone stay after such an incident?”

He knows.

“H-H…How did you know…”

“Oh, I know everything about you, doll.” His sinister smirk reappeared as he relaxed back into his chair and you pursed your lips as you felt an oncoming panic attack.

He knows, he knows, he knows, he-

“I know your dad wanted a son. I know that it kills you inside to never get the respect you deserve no matter what you do and even the men who claim to respect you patronize you in subtly conditioned ways. I know what your favorite food is. I know how much you love whiskey. I know you’re wearing those red panties that I fucking love on you.” He takes a breath as you let out an involuntary gasp, “And I know it was an accident.”

The first tear fell down your cheek. Shock, anger, fear? None of it mattered anymore; it was useless to pretend. You knew he knew. It was over. He stared at you in pity, like seeing you cry made him hurt.

“How could he not want someone as beautiful as you, doll?” Jungkook whispers, as if he couldn’t believe it himself.

“I wanted…to be the best for him…I tried…” Your voice strains

“I know you did. I know. Which is why you had no choice…”

In an instant, it all comes crashing back.

You drove down the lane a bit too clumsily, as you took the long way home.

It was almost midnight and you were speeding past 80 on a two-way lane off a cliffside road, but you didn’t give a single fuck. Your smashed mind was preoccupied at the moment.

A whole year had gone by, but your dad still hadn’t given you an ounce of trust he had for the other officers. Your dad – the fucking police lieutenant. You told him – you warned him that the man was armed, but he still charged in blind, without back up. Almost got the rest of the family members killed by doing something so crazy and careless.

Then he blamed you for not following his lead when he came out.

The tears came out faster than you could wipe them. Growing up in that home was horror. Him being on the force somehow also made him a conservative, self-righteous douchebag. Berating you for the way you’d dress, the way you ate, the way you talked to the way you styled your hair. It made you sick.

You tried so desperately to win over your own father’s love and approval from such a young age and you had nothing to show for it. Deep down, you knew it was because he wanted a boy. A boy who could become a cop like him. And a part of you thought that maybe if you became a cop anyway – one as respected and admired as he was, then he would finally admit he was wrong. At the very least he could finally tell you how proud he was of you.

You went to such lengths to spend the year being the best damn officer your town had seen. 26 arrests, 1 successful drug raid, multiple successful testimonies and extensive gang knowledge. As a plus, you had become beloved in the community. That took the most effort – you had to look the prettiest even while overworking yourself with double shifts. Be traditional and confident but not an overbearing prude. And never let the ‘unnatural’ masculine traits your job gave you, overpower your ‘natural’ feminine ones. Sounds completely simple doesn’t it? Now everyone praised you right and left. It was record breaking; you were the shit.

Yet he still wouldn’t refer to you as detective.

It broke you apart. You were at the end of your wits. Out excelling every male peer in your force. But you had zero to show for it. Which means all your efforts were for nothing.

The pain in your chest got heavier by the minute which made you whimper. Tonight, you had drunk yourself silly but not enough to take away the ache. To help yourself along, you grabbed the half-empty bottle laying in the driver’s seat in a swift motion and popped it open. Your car entered the opposite lane without your knowledge.

You chugged down the last of the bitter liquor, smashing the bottle against the driver’s side window. The anger still remained as you wiped the remnants of alcohol away from your mouth. Your vision was hazy, and you felt so pathetic – dirty, disgusting, like you were rotting from the inside. All you ever wanted to do was earn your father’s acceptance, so much so that you lost sense of any individuality you had left in you.

For a second, everything was so still and quiet, that it felt like all would be okay. The night was dark but serene.

But that tranquility vanished the instant you witnessed two bright lights closing in on you.

It all happened too quickly. You immediately swerved to your right, a loud honking and the friction of tires blasting through your ears. Years of practice and one whole one of police chases makes your instincts faster than normal and you immediately apply the clutch as your foot floors the break and you grip the handle sturdy. Your car rotates haphazardly to the right, but you were able to come to a complete halt before your front engine crashed into a tree.

Yet it feels like you did just that as your body lunges forward and the sounds of a car smashing against shrubs pierces through your ears. You were thankful you had your seat-belt on so you didn’t go flying out the windshield, but all you could think about was the immense pressure against the front of your body. The whiplash left you in shock for a couple seconds.

“Fuck.” You breathe out in agony, bringing your arm up to your sprained shoulder.

As you gather yourself together, you finally remember your surroundings and your head whips to the opposite end of the road to where you finally spot the car you almost hit. In the disoriented dark, you really had to strain into the distance. The car hadn’t been as lucky as yours as it thrashed towards the cliff side of the road. Seemed like it was laid halfway out on the edge. A non-threatening, old compact SUV – most likely a family car. Possibly children present. You could hear them screaming.

Fuck.

You had to help them as quickly as you could. But the instant you tried stepping out, you saw the gleam of a bottle under the driver’s seat.

And just like that, your body fell limp. Because you were more sober now than you’ve ever been in any moment of your life, you barely remembered…you were drunk.

All of the pain in your body immediately changed into fear – your eyes became wide and your pores leaked sweat.

You were drinking.

If you get out to help them, they were bound to smell the alcohol. If they’re able to identify you…if the police are called-

Everything would end tonight. Your career would be over, your family’s name will be dragged through the mud publicly and your father-

Your father would never forgive you. He’d never speak to you again. You’d be disowned.

Don’t embarrass me further, child.

Don’t embarrass me further, c̴h̶i̵l̴d̶

don’tembarrassmefurtherd̸o̴n̷’̸t̶e̶m̷b̷a̴r̴r̴a̴s̸s̷m̷e̶f̷u̷r̴t̸h̸e̴r̴d̵̜͓̈́͝ǫ̵͖̏͝n̴̘̈́’̷͕͐̈́t̴̗̺̃ẻ̵̢͓m̷͉̕b̸̡͕́̆a̴͔̬͆r̴̦͒r̸͉͑̿ạ̵̳̽s̵͙̏s̵̳̣̀̇m̵͉̬̐͋ë̸͓̝̕f̶̙̑u̶͈͠ř̷͔͈̃ẗ̴̠̈́h̸̖͍̅e̵̟̘͆r̷̫̕d̵̜͓̈́͝ǫ̵͖̏͝n̴̘̈́’̷͕͐̈́t̴̗̺̃ẻ̵̢͓m̷͉̕b̸̡͕́̆a̴͔̬͆r̴̦͒r̸͉͑̿ạ̵̳̽s̵͙̏s̵̳̣̀̇m̵͉̬̐͋ë̸͓̝̕f̶̙̑u̶͈͠ř̷͔͈̃ẗ̴̠̈́h̸̖͍̅e̵̟̘͆r̷̫̕d̴̼͚̠̈́̓ơ̶̪̜̅n̸̻̬͕͂͊͝’̸̼̪͉̌̒́t̷̲͓̐͒e̸̗̅͗m̵̨̹̫̓͑b̴̯̗̪̌̑å̷̬͕̻r̵̤͌̅̈́r̸̦̃̅̑ą̵̢̖̋s̷̟̜̄͆s̶̢̬̄m̸͎͗̈́́e̸̘̩̒̋f̷̝̦̟͆ũ̴͚̖̤r̶̙̫͒͝t̸̘͓̾͗͝ḩ̴̫͔̏̒ȇ̶̪̳͠d̶̳̆͂o̶͈̣͊̈́͐ņ̴̼̾’̵̨̆͂t̷̠̺͒̾̔ę̷̯̮̅̓m̸̪̑ͅb̷͇͐͑a̶̩͛̇ͅr̴̢̟̰̄͝r̸̞͙͎͑̅a̶̓̋̃ͅs̴̹͍͋̅̉s̷͓͓͎͒̆̐m̴̹̮͙̃e̶̲͗͠f̷̨͇̐́u̶̫͆̿̉r̶̰̗͑̾t̵̨̼͉͊͘h̸̻͔̥̎̒e̴̲̍̚r̷̺̘̆d̷̟̀̌̃õ̴̲̬̕n̸̡̕’̷̨̭̘̽t̶̛̼̀ë̸͉̲̂ḿ̶͚̌̚ḇ̸͇̗̿̏ȃ̶͖̥͔̿͑r̶̲̝̣͗̅r̴̖͖͘͝a̶͚͉͚͝s̴͎̘͑s̶͙̲̜̾̚m̵̨̧͒̈ẽ̵̱f̶̯̓̑̀ủ̶͍ȑ̵̻̼̍͒͜t̸̞͕͐̉̚h̵̺͐e̷̟̠̪̅͑́r̷̹̔͠d̶̯̼̫͒̑̅ȏ̴͎n̵̹̯̈͗’̷̢͋ṯ̵͓̈́ȅ̸̠ṃ̶̲̓b̸̘̻̈̆͜͝ä̷̢́̈r̴͍̫̐̌r̷̞̂͐͑à̵̛̤̌s̶̠̟̃ş̸͍̜́m̵̰͋̏̈́ë̴̬́f̵̝͈̋̄̚u̶͉͉͇͂̓r̴͚̉̎t̴̹̤͆ȟ̸͔͔̈́ė̶̹͆d̸̟̫͆̈́ő̸̲̔͠n̸̠̈́͌’̴̮̏̂̏t̷̩̦̓̿͒e̵͉̲̰̽̿m̶̡̛b̸͓̥͙͋ă̵̭̈́r̶͓̓͐r̵̤̮̾̌a̴̗͒͘s̸̫̉̆̀s̵̠̉͝m̸̪̗͛̽e̸͈͒̔f̶̺̟͂́u̷̢̧͈͐r̵͉͚̈́͝ẗ̴͚̹͉́̋́h̵͈̰̥̔d̷̟̉ͅo̶̩̟̺̍̒̾ṇ̴͋̾’̶̟̣̓̚ť̵̳̩e̵̡̼͛m̷͉̺̈́b̶̢̙̝͌a̶̳̟̐͠r̶͉̅̿ŕ̶̞̌̃a̶̠̿̊̽ͅs̸̡̨̩̽ş̶̯͎̃̀̈́m̵͙͓̦̍́e̸̠͍̳̽̆f̷͔͛̈́u̴͉̻͂̆͒r̴̥̩̀̑̋ṭ̶͔̯̊̂ḣ̵̡̭̰̔͆ễ̵͎̚r̷̝͔̙̀d̴͈͕͔͊ȍ̴̅̓ͅn̷͙̈’̴̪̜͎̓̈́͠t̴̝̾̚e̵͇̭͐ḿ̵̙̊b̷̧̝͆͛̔ͅa̴̗̲͒͠r̷͉͍̹̀́r̶̨͎̤̄a̶̙͔̳̾́͐s̸̳͑s̴̨͆͆̀ṃ̸̏̕͠è̴͎̻͆̚f̷͎͇̀ͅu̶͔̺͌̏̊͜r̷̩̂͗t̸̝̓̏h̶̠͉̏͝ȩ̷̬̣̈r̵̼̍ď̵͔̊o̵̡͉̣͑͂͒n̵̜̋́’̵̠̈́ͅṭ̷͛͝͝e̸̮͆m̷͚̈̃͊b̵͚͐͊a̷͈̲̘͛͆̚ŕ̵̻̦̘̓͠ŕ̵̹̭̈̎a̷̻̺̫̍͝s̶̜̠̹͑s̴̼̈́m̵̯̏ĕ̷̲̯̣f̵̹͔̍͝ų̸̤͌̿̀r̵̨͓̳̽͝t̵͉̟̃̐h̴̘̰͖̓͛e̵̺̽͠r̸̡̟̻̒̈́

“NO!” You shout, covering your ears with your palm to drown out his scalding voice.

Jungkook finally stopped talking, watching you cave into yourself on the chair in front of him. He would’ve done something if his hands weren’t tied down to the table. You looked so fragile and pained, it reminded him of himself in those days. This was the very look you had on after your father whispered something to you all those years ago. As he thought, he was always right about you.

You both were the same.

“_-”

“Shut up!” You scream, clenching your eyes shut and trying to erase the image of the car from your mind. “Just shut the fuck up!”

“You had no choice, ___.” He continued, his voice softer than before, “You had to drive off.”

“No I…” You look back up at the man in front of you through hard blurry tears, trying not to choke on your words. “I didn’t mean it…I didn’t- I promise dad…I did- i-it was an accident…”

“___...I know. It was you father who broke your spirit. It was the world that crushed your soul. They drove you mad, doll. They made you a sinner.”

You say nothing as the tears continue to fall, getting lost inside his bottomless pools.

“You drove off and left the family there. But he didn’t.”

He?

“That kid you never noticed…the kid who would’ve done anything for you.”

His response further tethers you into confusion. You furrow your eyebrows, not understanding what he was trying to say.

“That kid who only looked at you. He was right behind you that night.”

You feel a shiver crawl up your spine.

The kid was only slightly older and less miserable that night.

He was involved with every bad name in that town, aka his late father’s acquaintances. They provided him a new shelter, transportation and a means to earn food, as long as he did their bidding. Crime was a lot more organized than he would have ever thought. It was a hard life, but he was learning to survive. Committing small acts here and there for big games. No longer was he some petty thief who stole in desperation, he was a kid with so much blood on his hands that he couldn’t even stand looking at them

There were nights where he would have these dreams about ruling over an empire, of being feared and respected and every time he took a life, those dreams seemed closer to his bloody grasp. Although he hated taking orders, he became obedient to the never-ending pain. There was nothing he wouldn’t do to move up the ladder, but it would be a while till he could see a light.

Throughout this struggling livelihood, he did have one small, precious source of sun in his life. You.

Anytime he could, he would come watch you. Sometimes just small glimpses to get him through the day. Watching you on a stake out, prance around town, or just lounge about in your room. It was the most dangerous thing he did since you were a cop. Every time he went to you, he risked everything, but he was extra careful. There were times where he almost got caught, like the time he was masturbating in your bushes as you walked around with a towel on – don’t look so disgusted, he was just a dumb kid – but thankfully you never did find him. On the contrary, you helped him build all the stealth he’d need for his future.

In some ways, he thought of you as the better half of him. A person whose existence was nothing but a cause for regret, yet you didn’t let that corrupt you, unlike him. You were better than him – righteous and kind. Deep down inside, you were who he wanted to be.

Now that he was free of that monster’s grasp, he would imagine walking up to you as a free kid man. Wondering if you would remember him. He didn’t know what he would say, if there was anything at all he could have told you. It was a yearning he didn’t understand, he was just too young and unsettled.

The kid was content with watching you from far away because he knew he wasn’t worthy of you. It still didn’t stop him from being utterly in love with the thought of you alone.

That night he saw you leave the station. He observed you outside the bar’s window getting wasted. There was a strange feeling he had that night as you left a drunk mess, stumbling towards your 2012 Hyundai Accent and rushing out of the parking lot. The kid would soon learn to always trust his instincts.

He was driving right behind you, making sure he kept his distance. You were one hell of an officer, no doubt. Nevertheless, you were too out of it that night to tell anyone was tailing you. It all happened too quickly. The clumsy driving, the crash, and the aftermath. His heart almost jumped out of his chest when he saw you skid, pressing his own break as hard as he could. But you were able to stop before you crashed into anything, much to his relief.

The kid was trying to think about what he could do. You weren’t too hurt, were you? Should he come out and help you? He didn’t even care about the other car, just observing you in the far distance. As he continued to think, he decided he would come out and see if there was any way he could help you.

And as soon as he clicked his door open, he watched you do something he never would have imagined.

He saw you drive off.

It took a minute to realize what just happened. And the kid had always been observant, so he knew exactly what you were thinking. For the first time that night, he looked over at the other car.

These people could destroy you. Everything you have worked so hard for. He knew exactly why you had to leave. But he couldn’t do something like that. The kid had to help you, just like you did for him at one point.

So, he did the only thing he knew how. He drove up to the edge where their car hanged halfway. There were people yelling from inside, he could hear children. The car began blaring their horn as soon as they saw him drive up.

He drove up really close, close enough that his bumper banged against theirs.

Your mind was a blank state.

“He pushed them off.” Jungkook finishes off calmly.

You let out the breath you were holding, your bottom lip quivering softly. “Is…is that why-”

“Yeah. That’s why when you came back a minute later…they were gone.”

They were gone. Everything was as clear as day. You remember driving off, rushing even harder than before as you cried your heart out. It was such a stupid and rash decision – so fucking stupid. Half a minute later, you stepped on the break once again. As your car came to a halt, all you could hear were your sobs and the immobile engine. Your body hurt, everything hurt so, so, so much.

Was it worth it? Is gaining your father’s love worth killing someone over? Slowly, you glanced at the rear view mirror. Looking at the girl with swollen eyes. She wasn’t someone you recognized. The promise to serve and protect rings in your ears. All you were in this moment, was a hypocrite. You didn’t deserve anyone’s praise if this was your reality, you didn’t deserve anyone’s pity.

It was really dark out, and you found the slightest comfort in the world’s shadow. You bit your bottom lip, trying to stop your tears. It didn’t work – it was useless. All worth nothing.

Which is why you screamed out on the top of your lungs, banged your fists against the wheel before turning your car back around.

No matter what happens…you had to save them.

And you tried to. Within a minute, you were back where you before. But once you got there, that one place you’d never forget – those shrubs, the cliff, that road – they were gone. You got out, looking around, hoping that the family survived. The cliff itself was too high and the night was too dark to see below. Pulling at the strands of your hair, screaming out ‘hello?’, you appeared mad.

Till this day you don’t know if it was your gut instinct or an entity bigger than you that gave you a sign, if not the newspaper a few days later, you just knew they were dead. You fell to your knees – a broken woman. Not having any idea of those dark eyes that cried along with you that damned night.

Not until now.

Jungkook was the one who killed them, but how much does that change, really? It was still you who drove off, still you who left them in his hands. You were so deep in thought that you didn’t hear the sound of the interrogation room’s door cranking open. The man opposite you kept his eyes unflinchingly on you, waiting for this all to come to an end.

The last thing you felt was something heavy against the back of your head before you fell unconscious.

“Shit- that was so hard you bastard, I told you to use the chloroform shit.” Jungkook shouts at the man holding the gun’s handle.

“I couldn’t fucking find it, I told you that at the house, kid. Besides, she’s a big girl, she’ll be fine.” The man puts the barrel back in his holster before ripping his badge off his belt and throwing it aside.

“Shut the fuck up and uncuff me, Jimin.”

The blonde sighs, grabbing his keys from his back pocket.

“Tells me to infiltrate a police department, forces me to befriend and stalk some random cop girl, makes me hang out with those pigs. Fucking prick.” Jimin murmurs under his breath as he paces over and unlocks the shackles on said prick.

Jungkook winces, grabbing his wrist and twisting it around to get some circulation going. Then he stretches his neck before standing up and dusting his pants. Fuck, this chair was uncomfortable. He points at some fresh blood staining the elder’s chin, prompting him to wipe it off.

“So, what’s the situation outside?”

“Me and Kane took care of all of them. We took our time with Hyun, like you wanted. Now Kane’s waiting in the van for us.”

“Good.” Jungkook nods, looks like everything went according to plan. He glances over at your limp form and walks up to where you sat insentient. With a huff, he got on his knees so he could see your face up close, like he’s always wanted to.

“I can’t believe this day is here.”

Jimin looks between you both. “What are you gonna do with her?”

The younger cups your cheek. “You know I was ecstatic that night. I was…fuck, I never thought you could be with me. But that night, you proved that you were meant to be mine. And I waited so long for this moment. This moment where I could introduce myself to you as your equal. It’s why I was out on that mill this morning, detective. I wanted to meet you so much that it hurt.”

…That wasn’t an answer to his question but Jimin knew not to further bother his boss. There probably was a lot he had planned for you, but he wasn’t going to say it. No one ever really knew what this kid was thinking, anyway. He was a cryptic bastard.

Jungkook turns towards Jimin and extends his free hand out to him. Without being asked, Jimin reaches into his front pocket and pulls out the old handkerchief. His boss usually didn’t go this long without holding it. He places it into the younger’s hand without a word.

Turning back around, Jungkook places the cloth right underneath your shut eyes. He gently wipes away the tears leaking out.

“No one will ever hurt us again, doll.” Jungkook whispers before standing back up.

He places the handkerchief back in his own pocket and moves in to pick you up bridal style. Safely tucking you in his arms.

“Lead the way.” He orders Jimin who nods before opening the door of interrogation room 4.

___

This is absolute trash :))) I hope ya’ll enjoy tho. Lemme know what you thought, srsly because this fic stepped out of a certain comfort zone for me. I am absolutely open to part 2 if ya’ll want. if there is something you’re curious about, ask away.

#yandere bts #yandere jungkook #bts angst #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts #jungkook #R:SIN

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