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notathingjustthere · 4 years ago

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Obstinacy

Writer’s note: I posted this last year to start a writing blog but deleted it because of school. It’s summer and now I wanna try again so here is this angsty bit, until I write something new.

Pairing: Jumin Han / Reader

Word Count: 2523

“You kept my clothes?”

It had been years since you stepped into this house. His house. You’d thought three years was long enough to get over someone, expecting him to have moved on. Hoping his desire for you had tired out after the long empty wait.

Here you sat, in his bathroom, a towel covering you as you inwardly worked toward sobriety. Shared memories with him kept bombarding through, some were of the space you had once called your own.

Jumin was pleased in his own way when your contact had popped up on his screen. For a moment he felt a tinge hopeful before answering on the fourth vibration.

“Hello?”

You were drunk when he arrived and he was disappointed, to say the least. Being so vulnerable in such an establishment did not settle well with him. Of course, you would never indulge in such menacing situations unplanned. You had called him sober, with the intent of being intoxicated upon his arrival.

You were almost at your goal before he walked in, too distracted by your conversation to notice him walking toward you. The bar had been fairly crowded, as he disregarded your “little friend”, as he had referred to it, and gently grabbed your arm. Jumin whispered harshly into your ear after helping you up, then made way to the exit.

You had giggled when he led you out, his face remained stoic as he was clueless about what was so amusing.

“Hi Mr. K-kim” you waved at the familiar awaiting driver who held the door open. He smiled whilst shutting the door, and you fixed yourself comfortably next to Jumin, who still would not budge. The ride back had been silent and short, time had lost you until the door opened again with him ready to help you out.

Now you sat in the same bed you shared years ago, facing him in silence as he stared at you testingly. The loud ticking of the clock served as a nuisance as you still tried to get your thoughts straight. Deciding you had waited long enough you gathered yourself onto the bed, preparing for sleep.

“If you’re not going to say anything then goodnight”

Jumin remained seated with his eyes still directed at you, he watched you throw the sheets over yourself and adjust yourself comfortably. It did not take long to hear your light breathing and occasional soft snores. After minutes passed of stillness, he sighed and made his way towards the bathroom, calling it a night.

He had emailed Jaehee about cancelling his meetings for the day as he would not be available. She would eventually give him a hard time for the short notice and inconvenience but that didn't seem to matter at the moment.

He joined you in bed, laying down behind you, hesitant to touch you as if you were so fragile and would break. Building the confidence, he wrapped an arm around you, fixing himself closer to embrace your scent and welcoming warmth.

Varying thoughts clouded his mind, making it difficult for him to fall asleep. Why had you just now appeared after disappearing all those years? Had you been in the city all this time? Were you still as curious of him as he was of you?

You moved and turned to him unconsciously, your eyes still closed. He smiled when he noticed you getting comfortable in his arms, wanting to be closer. He had missed your restless sleep habits, he had missed you so much and hoped you felt the same. He caved into a cuddle not wanting to let you go again, deciding his thoughts could wait another day. All that mattered at the moment was you in his arms.

***

It was sunny when you woke up to the subtle sweet smell of pancakes, his favourite. Although you preferred waffles to the latter the delicious gesture was always appreciated. You felt the gentle brush of Elizabeth the third, who was laid comfortably on your legs when you attempted to stretch.

Your face turned towards the nightstand instinctively for your phone, an eye roll seemed called for when you noticed it was not there. You had an idea as to where it was so decided to pay it no mind.

The walk to the kitchen was slow as your body kept to its morning sluggish movements. You stood at the door, abstractedly admiring the man of the hour’s take at domesticity. He was so focused on preparations, you thought he didn't hear you come in.

“Good morning love”

You hummed airily in response as you sat at the table. The guilt ate at you, it was selfish to call last night after leaving him for so long. You didn't know if you planned to stay either, but you knew he had decided otherwise.

He was so decisive, always knowing what he wanted. You envied it. The uncertainty endured over the years left you hollow. It didn't help that he was always so ready to love when you couldn't decide if you wanted to love. Maybe it was unfair of you to lead him on, or maybe he had been naive to think of you more than a friend. To fall for you.

You had been happy. No, content. The long-lived friendship had mutually developed into this unspoken intimacy you both allowed to remain unacknowledged. Maybe that's why leaving had been somewhat easy for you.

Your disappearance had been a spontaneous decision, Jumin who never expected it was left underwhelmed. He had also been happy alongside you, content as well. The trust he had built throughout your shared childhood always kept him going, so he had been pained when you just upped and left. He played it cool over the years after your vanishing, forcing a numbness that only you could reveal.

“Here you go” he placed a neatly plated stack in front of you along with the kettle of black tea. He sat across from you with his own scrumptious plate and passed you the milk and maple syrup.

You gave him a cheery grateful smile as you helped yourself to some breakfast. It’d been three years since you last shared a meal with him, the pleasure from the first bite in your mouth was gratifying. The moment was pleasant, but you knew it could only last for so long with the look he gave you.

Attempting to divert from his obvious curiosity, you asked about his father.

“Father is well, and so is yours. We all shared dinner the other night.”

“Mmhh” You nodded as you helped yourself to another bite.

“What, no work today?” You followed up, playing innocent after a few more aimless questions

“I see you are still stubborn” Jumin’s sudden harsh response was of no surprise, but you wished the distraction had lasted a bit longer.

“I can say the same for you” You challenged.

“Why do you insist on escaping this?”

You calmly sighed, taking a sip of your milk tea. “We are too much alike and you know that”

“What's so wrong with that?”

Your sigh was louder this time and you murmured to yourself, regretting not going against the phone call.

“Where did you go? Where have you been?”

“Far”

It was his turn to roll his eyes at your vague response. Jumin’s instant reactions were anticipated and he failed to not disappoint as he bombarded you with questions.

“Why did you come back then?” He chose to conclude with his assault.

“I don't know you tell me.” You knew he could answer most of his questions with a simple scan through your mobile device, which you knew he had already done.

The last time he left you home alone, had been the last time he saw you in three years, as you had made sure to leave no traces for him. You had your own resources but chose against using them as you wished to dissipate from existence.

You were successful, given the new chance to start over somewhere else. You never understood why you felt that way or why you still did, yet somehow you did know?

Jumin placed your phone on the table, sliding it over towards you in return. He had the serious look in his eye that he always wore, his semi-empty plate pushed to the side.

“My first and last question still stands”

You never did like confrontations or anything that you considered to be mentally or emotionally strenuous. Neither did he, yet here he was justly contributing to your headache.

Before any more words were exchanged, or any chance at a proper conversation the elevator dinged and a woman stepped out with one of the guards attempting to hold her back.

The scene before you served as a great diversion, you coyly smiled as your attention went towards the unexpected magenta haired guest.

***

Jumin’s palm took to his forehead, his annoyance evidently loud. The uninvited guest walked in forcefully, greeting the man she seemed so desperate to see.

“It's rude to keep me waiting at the gates, that's no way to treat your fiance.”

Her eagerness faltered when her eyes turned to you, a frown now played on her face.

“And who is this?” She asked, seemingly disgusted by your presence.

“Oh, I’ve heard so much about you! The supposed future Mrs. Han!” You jumped to reply lightheartedly, moving your hand in for a handshake.

Jumin could not decide what exactly he sensed from your act but he knew it was something different. Were you joking? Or were you serious? He could no longer tell, with you.

“I'm sorry sir, she wouldn’t wait at the gate” the nervous yet vexed bodyguard apologised.

Jumin waved him away and turned towards the nuisance that stood in his presence. He had hoped the day together would be progressive as emotional issues were being sorted out, but apparently, life had its own ideas.

“Sarah, was it? Chairman has said so much about you”

“And when exactly did you talk to my father?” Jumin asked you curiously.

Was he not the first person you contacted on your return? He would never admit it but the idea of not being first to hear from you was rather upsetting.

Three nights ago you had arrived home at an ungodly hour, your parents were not aware until that morning when the help had prepared breakfast for three. They had questioned the extra seat until you walked in still in your pajamas. It was an interesting morning nevertheless.

“Oh, may I see the ring? I just want to see if it's as lovely as the one he gave me.” You coyly smiled.

Sarah looked up at you confused, the silence did not help soothe the awkward tension. Jumin did not understand how he missed the ring on your finger, the one he had picked to ask your hand. You had agreed at the time, then disappeared without a trace. Now you stood in front of him playing with the item as though customary.

You always wore the ring so blithely before but had been wary. You were unsure of what to expect with your departure, whether he had been heartbroken or if he would ever move on. Each day you were reminded about the life you could have had with him, a life you may have wanted.

It was not that you were jealous but rather self-assured. Jumin had waited as you selfishly expected, by exploiting his fondness you got something you might have wanted. You never did find whatever it was that you set out to look for, nonetheless here you both stood next to each other.

Jumin’s possessiveness never sat well with you, but slowly you learned that maybe you were just as proprietorial as he was. It was so subtly instilled that you denied it for so long. Reality had come crashing when he asked for your hand in marriage, and even though you expected the gesture you somehow were still unprepared.

The gradual passing comments from either parent had made prospects seemingly clear. Perhaps it was your distaste for the arranged marriage that called for fleeing. Years of grooming and preparations done for the both of you were beneficial towards your legacies. Despite that your planned union was the foundation towards a future empire, you both cared for each other and showed it in your own pernicious ways.

“What is this Jumin? A joke?” Sarah had finally found words to share her annoyance.

Jumin’s eyes were focused on you, his initial indifference had faltered and he was now very amused. Sarah’s fuming had left her face a bit red, neither of them had entertained her remark.

“I had lunch with your father two days ago, he seemed very pleased to see me back”

“So you’re staying then,” Jumin asserted. There was silence at that, you were unsure of a decision and had withheld from giving it any thought.

“You met with my father before contacting me.” He was bitter, and that much was evident in his statement, when you did not respond he turned to his unwanted guest.

“Fortunately, I cannot see you off. I will call for someone to escort you out.”

“You can’t do that to your future wife! It's not right!” she snapped.

You had heard about the alleged engagement when you returned home, your parents inevitably brought it to your attention that morning.

“As you can see I already have a fiance.” Jumin moved towards you and wrapped an arm around you. “It is strange how delusional you are. I don’t even know you”

The elevator dinged again, Sarah screamed obscenities as the guard from before led her out forcefully.

When the doors closed, you let out a breath you unconsciously held in, Jumin tilted his head to look at your face as he hugged you from behind. You embraced the hug, silently battling your overwhelming thoughts. You both did not know what would happen from that second going on but decided to simply revel at the moment.

“You still wear my initials,” You noticed the customised watch you had gifted him at some point in your arguably deploring relationship. He chuckled and rested his chin on your head.

“And you kept the ring”

You released his arms around you and turned to face him, you had dragged out your stubbornness long enough and after the interaction with Sarah, you were exhausted. Meeting his eyes, you rested your arms around his neck and prepared your thoughts to speak, something you had been avoiding for so long.

“Look, you have every right to hate me. I know It was very selfish of me to call you last night, and as much as it was, I just didn't know how to properly address this”

“I know love. V tells me I can be very overwhelming” Jumin attempted to console as he chuckled.

Elizabeth the Third’s purring interrupted the very short-lived moment, however, it relieved the long felt tension. You both had a lot to discuss and figure out, but until then it seemed that things would be okay in your own baffling ways.

Thank you for reading! :)

#jumin han x reader #jumin x reader #jumin imagine #mysme jumin #jumin x mc #angst #mystic messenger #mysme

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renaerys · 3 years ago

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22. for reds 🤡

This is 100% not what you asked for (yet...👀), but I give you part 1 of what we're calling the Weird King AU. I'm turning this into a proper multi-chapter High School fic because I love you and I'd jump on any bandwagon for you.

xxx

Like most young, conventionally attractive Supervillains, Brick had made a bit of a habit of failing upwards. It was pretty easy in a town full of simpering morons content to project their own narrative assumptions onto him, and who was he to crush their dreams when they made his life a little easier?

For example, dating.

“You can tell me, you know.” His cute date, Tracy, sipped her milkshake across from him.

“Tell you what?”

She softened and reached her hand across the table. “Your tragic backstory. I’ll listen without judgment, I promise.”

Brick tried to think of something tragic, but it all seemed pretty underwhelming as far as Supervillain origin stories went. “You mean like how I was born in a toilet?”

She made an oh shape with her lips. “We all have those days where we feel like we were born in a toilet, Brick.”

He’d dated Tracy for three months before she broke up with him out of the blue in tears: sorry she couldn’t fix his baggage, she just wasn’t strong enough to handle all that tortured darkness, but she wished him nothing but health and happiness. Brick deleted her number from his phone and spent twenty whole minutes staring at the toilet in his bathroom, wondering what the lesson here was.

But everything changed when Mojo got out of prison and moved Brick and his brothers back to Townsville, where he enrolled them in the local high school alongside their former arch nemeses, the Powerpuff Girls.

Suddenly, everything Brick did pre-supposed ill intent. These people remembered him as the pest who had graffitied their local monuments and blown up their cars and endangered their children. They held no love for him, and at best they feared him. This was not Citiesville, where he’d been a tall, cold glass of Voss water in a sea of recycled Dasani.

He found himself thinking about his birthing toilet again as he stepped into the cafeteria alone and the conversation quieted down as his new classmates watched him from the safety of their tables. His next moves here were critical. He was no longer at the top of the food chain, but fear and mystery surrounding his origins and character gave him a certain power over his peers.

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of social suicide, I will fear no cringe,” he said to himself.

The jocks were out. Capable though he may be, Brick was not much of a team player unless there was a blood contract involved requiring his participation on pain of satanic torture. The drama kids were also a hard pass, not because he thought drama was lame, but because they had barely noticed him walk in, and Brick did not have the energy to deal with people more self-involved than himself. Some of the unaffiliated tables could be safe, but without a good understanding of the nuanced social dynamics in the high school, he could be heading toward irreversible doom, and that was a risk he was not willing to take.

He saw his salvation just ahead. It was the only option, all else being equal. In an environment where he couldn’t be certain of his baseline status and potential for upward mobility, there was greatness to be had only by association and certainty only in the devil he knew.

Brick helped himself to the empty seat directly across from Blossom Utonium to a chorus of gasps and staring.

Blossom did not startle like her table mates had. She watched him critically behind a head full of bangs as she balanced her soup spoon in her hand. “Really.”

Brick unwrapped the burrito he’d purchased in the lunch line and brandished it before him. “Really.”

He took a bite of the burrito. It was not hot enough. The two girls to Blossom’s left whispered to each other about that bad boy and he’s hot, though.

Blossom daintily spooned soup into her mouth without spilling a single drop as she continued to watch Brick for signs of his imminent dark side transformation.

The guy next to Brick was brave enough to ask him what his next class was. Brick had a mouth full of disappointing burrito, so he passed the guy the printout of his class schedule in lieu of answering.

“Wow, all APs, huh? Hey, we’re in U.S. History together next period, nice. I’m Mike Believe, by the way. Brick Jojo, right?”

Brick didn’t answer him immediately on account of the burrito currently occupying his mouth hole, and Mike took it the wrong way.

“Oh, yeah, we all know who you are. Blossom sort of filled us in.” He winced like he’d inadvertently revealed a terrible secret.

Brick swallowed his food and washed it down with a gulp of water. “Saves me some time.”

Mike looked super relieved. “For sure! Hey, I could lend you my notes if you want to catch up. Gershwin’s giving a quiz on the Progressive Era on Friday, and she’s a hard-ass who definitely won’t care that you just transferred…”

Brick chewed on his lunch as Mike continued to talk at him about classes and other vaguely helpful, albeit uninteresting, information. But Mike seemed normal enough, a little chatty but not in an overeager sort of way. Blossom was no longer clocking his every move and seemed to be absorbed in her friend’s latest swim team cheating scandal, until Brick reached for his water bottle and she suddenly laser-focused on his wandering hand.

Her keen attention to him was honestly flattering, if expected. It was in his nature to be noticed, and in this narrow respect she was no different from anyone else whose head he turned. If she chose to feed her interest with the flames of suspicion, then it was no difference to him.

But if she was anything like him—and on a chemical level she was probably the closest to him that a person could get—he suspected it took tremendous effort to hold her full and sustained attention. The world they inhabited was as vapid and mundane as the humans that surrounded them, and even the most gracious of gods grew bored of worship. Which explained all the smiting and fucking and generational curses upon entire households in everything from Greek mythology to the Old Testament.

Brick was pretty deep into a fantasy of Blossom going full Ixion and the Wheel on the swim team when Mike tapped his shoulder. “You ready to go?”

It took him a moment to realize the bell had rung and he had a class to get to—AP U.S. History with Mike, apparently. Brick gathered his tray and his bag and followed Mike. When he looked back at the table, Blossom was already gone.

xxx

That whole first week was painfully boring. No one bullied him, or pranked him, or picked a fight with him, of course. But no one really approached him, either. His brothers were more determined to make an effort. Boomer announced he was trying out for the soccer team because there was no rule saying a Super with extremely well documented ties to active criminals and the forces of Hell couldn’t kick a ball around a field. Butch had gotten himself invited to a midnight screening of Snakes on a Plane in some rich kid’s home movie theater, but only after that same kid had accidentally spilled milk on Butch and burst into tears in front of a cafeteria full of Juniors and Seniors. Brick declined the invitation Butch extended to him. He had that AP U.S. History exam to study for on Friday, anyway.

He shared all of his classes with Blossom. Even in the classes where her assigned seat was behind his and he couldn’t see her, he could feel her lobotomizing stare at the back of his head whenever she glanced up from her notebook. And while Mike’s notes were perfectly adequate and the friendly gesture counted for more than the content (a gesture Brick would not soon forget), there was a far more efficient way to accomplish his goal of murdering the class averages while also taking the edge off his loner doldrums.

“Can I borrow your class notes?”

Blossom rose from her seat and pulled her hair tie out to re-do her extremely long ponytail. She held the elastic between her teeth as she worked. Her teeth were very straight, he noticed. Some pretty nice girl-teeth, generally speaking.

“Which class?”

“All of them.”

He watched her wind the elastic around her hair with quick, adroit fingers. “That’s a lot of notes.”

“You’re the top of every class. No point in asking anyone else.”

She moved toward the hall. He followed her out. “Why would I help you?”

A legitimate question delivered without venom. Unlike her sister Buttercup, who’d “run into” Brick after school on Monday and told him to watch his back, Blossom didn’t have to do anything but maintain a general proximity to make her superiority complex known. Which was the kind of flex he could fuck with.

“Isn’t helping people sort of your mandate?”

They had arrived at her locker, which she opened with enough force to rattle the hinges. “I help the helpless. Are you helpless, Brick?”

Brick smiled at her baiting. Had she ever actually said his name at a normal volume before? It sounded good even in her baseline bitch timbre. “Critically helpless. I’m the new student who transferred in the middle of the semester, and you’re the only person who knows me.”

A couple other students clearly trying to get to the lockers Brick was blocking hovered just out of reach. They whispered to each other, but neither of them actually worked up the courage to ask Brick to move. He ignored them.

Blossom rummaged in her locker for the binder she would need for the next class. “Make friends.”

“Working on it.”

The locker door slammed and she faced him. There was something confrontational in the way she held herself before him that kicked him in the nuts back in time thirteen years to their more uncouth days when all he wanted to do was destroy her so he’d be the only one. Now they were older and wiser and he actually did need her notes to study, so destroying her was not high on his list of priorities.

“You want to be my friend.”

“We have so much in common.”

“So do lions and hyenas.”

“Both are apex predators, so.”

She took a step closer and peered up at him. Brick did not move, although he wondered what was so interesting about his face. She probably just thought he was hot. She was probably as bored as he was. She probably—

“You have lettuce in your teeth.”

Brick pulled back and covered his mouth on instinct. God fucking damnit.

Blossom was already walking away from him by the time he’d picked the food from his teeth. “I’ll expect my notes back in mint condition before first period tomorrow morning.”

Brick pressed a fist against the lockers and quietly fumed. “Dumbass…”

“Um, sorry, but do you mind…?”

The student who’d been waiting for her locker space to clear up had her palms up as if to assuage a feral stray. Brick pushed off the lockers, but his fist left a dent where he’d unleashed some of his impotent self-pity. He looked back at the girl, and she shook her head.

“It’s fine! It, uh, it happens sometimes.” She pointed a couple lockers down to Blossom’s, which was dinged up worse than the others.

Brick stared at Blossom’s locker, and then back at the girl. Her narrow, dark eyes were wide, but not out of fear. She was waiting for something, and like an idiot it took him a moment to catch up. “You’re trying to make me feel better about fucking up your locker.”

She laughed nervously. “I mean, it’s really fine! You just looked so miserable for a second there, and I just thought…”

Great, he was moping so hard he had an audience.

The five minute warning bell rang, and a flood of students rushed past them on their way to fourth period. Brick stepped aside so the girl could get to her locker.

“Hey, you’re the new guy, right?”

The new guy, yeah. How quaint. Except, she was waiting for a response, which wasn’t the absolute worst thing that had happened to him all week.

“Brick,” he said. But of course, she already knew that, and she was just being nice.

“I’m Kim. Kim Chan.”

“Okay.” He didn’t have anything else to say to her, so he decided to get his shit and get to his next class.

“Welcome back to Townsville, Brick.”

Brick shoved his hands in his pockets and stalked off. It didn’t occur to him until later that Kim was the first and only person who had properly welcomed him back home.

#powerpuff girls #powerpuff girls fanfic #blossick #ppg reds #ppg blossom #ppg brick #september fic prompts #weird king au #i have no idea what i will call this yet #but it'll make its way to AO3 and it'll be a Thing #i have to think of themes and shit now #i came here to shit post and here we are with another full on Reds fic

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earlgreytea68 · 3 years ago

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Tagged by @carbonbased000 and @pyrchance

1. why did you choose your url?

Many years ago, EarlGreyTea was the name I chose for the late, great Television Without Pity. I didn’t want something fandom-specific, so I chose the name of my favorite tea. I only found it later that it’s a Star Trek reference, oops. EarlGreyTea was already taken on LJ, so I added the 68, which is my birthday, and I’ve kept the name on every platform ever since.

2. any side blogs? if you have them, name them and why you have them.

I actually have several, but I don’t really use any of them, except the armes4eva blog, which I sometimes post interior design and Sebastian Stan things to lol

3. how long have you been on tumblr?

oh, goodness, I think 2012. Yes, I just checked, 2012.

4. do you have a queue tag?

No, I can’t be bothered lol. The only time I use the queue is when I do my year-end round-up (which didn’t happen this year because I was too depressed alas).

5. why did you start your blog in the first place?

Right after “The Reichenbach Fall” aired, I started writing “Sherlock” fic. But I was having a hard time finding active Sherlock communities on LJ. When I asked about it on Twitter, many people were like, “Oh, you’ve got to go to Tumblr, that’s where fandom is now.” And so that’s what I did!

6. why did you choose your icon/pfp?

That’s my icon! I’ve had it for years. I wonder if I can even remember how long. It’s a picture I took of a teapot and teacup I was served at breakfast outside by the pool at a fancy hotel in Las Vegas. I haven’t been to Las Vegas in a long time, let me see, it must have been...11 or 12 years ago.

7. why did you choose your header?

Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass is basically my favorite book (I count them as one). The older I get, the more relevant I find those books to what adulthood turned out to be like. So, anyway, it’s a quote from “Looking-Glass,” it’s what the Red Queen tells Alice, and I say it *all the time.*

8. how many mutuals do you have?

I do not even know how to figure that out, I fail Tumblr lol

9. how many followers do you have?

7,359

10. how many people do you follow?

Why don’t I see this information??? In the beginning, I tried to follow back everybody who followed me, and that was how I learned that at the time there was a limit to how many people you can follow. So I stopped following back at that point (this was years ago). Then I realized I could follow people again because I guess people had deleted their Tumblrs or whatever, so I’ve tried to start following people back again, but I’m kind of sporadic about it. Anyway, all this is to say that I probably follow a lot of people.

11. have you ever made a shitpost?

I suppose I will let all of you be the judge of that!

12. how often do you use tumblr each day?

I mostly just glance at it for twenty minutes or so a night. Sometimes I might scroll on mobile during the day, and it’s actually my favorite social media platform to just scroll endlessly through if I’m feeling anxious and need to calm down. But if I’m having a normal stress-level day, I just kind of glance it over a little to see what’s going on in fandom-world.

13. did you ever fight/argument with another blog once? who won?

I don’t think so.

14. how do you feel about “you need to reblog this” posts?

I don’t do any of the chain-mail-ish ones. However, I am superstitious enough that I always reblog the good luck ones. They have never actually had an effect that I can see but why tempt fate! I’m not going to turn down luck!

15. do you like tag games?

Love them.

16. do you like ask games?

Love these, too.

17. which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

“Tumblr famous” seems like it should be an oxymoron lol

18. do you have a crush on a mutual?

I’m sure they’re all awesome, but sorry, I’ve got no notes to pass “Do you like me? circle y or n!”

Tagging whoever feels like doing this! And I guess I’ll also tag @godless-lunatic @thisisnotjuli @thumbllebee @unicornshatetacos @jinxwild19

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suibianjie · 3 years ago

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Getting to Know You - Tag Game

I was tagged by @susuwatari-kompeito and, @yibo-wang, @jingyismom and a few others ❤ Thank you! (also sorry but I take forever to do tag games sometimes lol......)

1. Why did you choose your url?

It’s a combination of jie (as in 姐 sister) with Suibian (as in Wei Wuxian’s hilarious name for his sword). Also I vaguely liked the idea of “whatever sis.” Me and my braincells shouldn’t be in charge of naming anything tbh 😂

2. Any side-blogs? If you have them, name them and why you have them.

Kind of, but they’re all very casual or made as a joke. One is Wormxian for reasons that are too long to list here. Another is a sideblog I use for organizing posts I wanna save and maybe reference later.

3. How long have you been on tumblr?

Ooooh, let’s see. This blog was made at the end of January of this year after I watched The Untamed, but my first Tumblr blog was created in 2013-ish. There’s a gap in-between where I didn’t really use Tumblr at all, so I guess that’s an answer? 😂

4. Do you have a queue tag?

Sure do! It’s Between queue and me there’s no need for ‘thank you’ and ‘sorry’ for obvious Wangxian reasons.

5. Why did you start your blog in the first place?

Because I watched The Untamed and just had all these FEELINGS so needed a place to vent and shitpost about them (￣▽￣*)ゞ

6. Why did you choose you icon/pfp?

It was pretty and I stan Lan Wangji 😁

7. Why did you choose you header?

I don’t think my current theme shows a header on desktop. On mobile it’s a custom header I made with vectors from my 1k milestone post.

8. What’s your post with the most notes?

This one! I took my favorite Jingyi line from the MDZS novel and went through a scene from the CQL Yi City arc frame by frame to find the perfect matching shots. Really surprised how many notes it got, but that’s what Jingyi deserves ❤

10. How many followers do you have?

Way way more than I ever expected. Thank you all for following me and my 2 brain cells!

11. How many people do you follow?

80 right now

12. Have you ever made a shitpost?

Pretty sure it’s not an exaggeration to say my content is at least 50% CQL shitposts.😂

13. How often do you use tumblr each day?

14. Did you have a fight/argument with a blog once? Who won?

That sounds exhausting, I just delete/block/scroll past and move on with my life lol.

15. How do you feel about ‘you need to reblog this post’?

Having survived many iterations of those “forward this email to 10 friends or X will happen” chains of the early internet years, I usually just scroll past and Bloody Mary can catch these hands if she tries to disturb my sleep.

16. Do you like tag games?

I do, mostly! Though sometimes I take forever to fill them out.

17. Do you like ask games?

I don’t think I’ve played one yet. Next time I see an interesting one on my dash I’ll have to reblog 😊

18. Which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

Sure I know some BFNs but they’ll murder me on the spot if I call them out ❤😁

19. Do you have a crush on a mutual?

If you don’t lowkey crush on your mutuals then what even is the point

#tag games #tag game #long post #not tagging anyone because i literally took 3 months to do this so i'm sure everyone has been tagged already lol

7 notes · View notes

catboymingi · 4 years ago

Text

bittersweet

navi/masterlist

pairing: mingi x reader

genre: angst, fluff; best friends to strangers to enemies to lovers

word count: 7.7k

warnings: self harm, mental illness, suicidal thoughts (though no behaviour described in detail at all), addiction (alcoholism to be precise), language

a/n: this one’s heavy... also this is heavily based on personal experience so don’t come jumping at me for inaccuracies thank u - also the links during the story take you to the same song as the first link, but they have the swedish og lyrics on hover (sorry mobile users)

när jag var liten kändes alltid som att det var du och jag mot skiten / så jag ville att vi skulle göra allt tillsammans / men jag märkte tydligt att du ville nånting annat / behandlade mig sämst / vi var bara ungar - when i was small it always felt like it was you and me against the world / so i wanted us to do everything together / but i noticed clearly that you wanted something else / treated me worst / we were just kids

you had no idea what happened. you’d been so close with mingi ever since you moved, him being the first friend you’d made in the new school, and eight-year-old you really appreciated him. he fought off the bullies for you, he was always there, but suddenly he wasn’t. you were in high school, and everything had been as always, until it wasn’t. until he started avoiding you like you had a deadly and contagious disease, like you’d killed his parents. he hated you and you had no idea why, had no idea why your best friend suddenly decided that some random people he’d barely ever talked to before were a better company than you, who’d been with him through thick and thin for the past decade. saying that you were heartbroken was an understatement.

it took you so long to get back on track after the day mingi had started avoiding you, hating you, but eventually, you managed to do it. you banned all thoughts of him from your head, deleted all messages, pictures, and other traces of him you had on your phone and got rid of all physical memories, too. your parents knew you weren’t okay, and they were so relieved when you asked them if you could set something on fire in the backyard, because it finally seemed like you were getting closer to healing. it had been months, and they’d been worried for your life, but they had no idea how to get your now ex-best friend to reach out to you. they couldn’t call him up and just tell him that he needed to talk to you before you killed yourself, even though they wished they could.

by the time you started university you were almost back to normal, the only outward signs of what you’d gone through being the scars covering your arms and your refusal to drink alcohol, at all. you got obsessed with your major, studying to become a therapist so that you could maybe, hopefully help people feel understood and okay when they were in a similar situation to the one you’d been in. this passion made you the best of your year, acing all exams because every free minute was spent on revising the materials and taking on extra projects and doing all you could to keep yourself busy.

but you weren’t okay, not actually. the worry was still there, the fear, and it was the reason why you hadn’t made a single friend even when the fourth semester of university was almost over already. it was after a particularly hard exam (that of course you’d aced again) that you, for the first time since your other half had left, agreed to go out with someone, a random dude from your course that you’d consequently ignored up to that point who invited you to some maths major’s party.

“it’s gonna be fun, and we deserve some fun after that fucking hell of an exam” was how he had convinced you, and you decided that it couldn’t hurt.

what you didn’t know then yet, however, was that he’d ditch you the second you’d taken off your jacket at the party that same evening, saying that if he’d known that you were a nutcase he’d never have asked you out.

“you’re hot but that’s just not what i wanna put up with.” and that from a psychology major. great.

the evening got worse when you found out whose party this was. you didn’t even know that mingi went to the same uni as you, and he’d obviously moved out of his parents’ house by now, so the address didn’t ring a bell, either. it was first when you saw him that you realised. and everything came crashing down on you again, all the things you’d convinced yourself you were over. and even though you’d promised yourself you’d never touch alcohol again, not even cough medicine including it, you broke that promise now, going straight for the hard liquor. that seemed to impress the horny idiots around you, how you downed it without even flinching, and because you didn’t care about what you should and shouldn’t do right now you let the first one to make a move touch you up and down, making out with you (which had effectively stolen your first kiss from you, but what did it even matter anymore?) and whispering to your ear just how hot you were. you didn’t care for him, but you knew that the one you cared for couldn’t give fewer shits about you. you were tired of being alone, of being hurt, of being lonely, and you just wanted to forget. so you let this dude whose name you didn’t know and didn’t care to know make out with you on the kitchen counter, because by now there was no way your situation could get any worse anymore, anyway.

your lack of interest seemingly didn’t stay hidden to him, though, so at some point he left you with a displeased grunt. it was obvious he’d expected a little more excitement from you, and now he was looking for the next drunk girl he could get to fuck him. you didn’t care. you got some more alcohol, pushing every thought of your parents as far away as you could, because you knew they’d be so disappointed. they’d always cared, but it hadn’t changed anything for you. the one you needed to care didn’t even notice how you were slipping. you’d be surprised if he’d even known that you got hospitalised after graduation.

but now you were here, in his house, and you hated it, hated him, hated yourself. you wanted to get out, to disappear before he’d ever even notice you’d been there in the first place, so you stole a bottle of whatever was closest to you and left the house.

it was embarrassing that you weren’t even drunk yet. you had no idea how much you’d drunk, but you barely felt tipsy. so when the one you wanted to leave you alone the most came outside after you, you had to deal with the emotions that that caused in you entirely sober.

“the fuck do you want?” you hadn’t expected yourself to be able to be angry at him when you’d get to talk to him again. you’d expected yourself to cry, to break down and beg for him to come back, but maybe at least that the alcohol saved you from.

“i want to check up on you. since when do you drink?”

you hated him. you fucking hated him more than anything else you’d ever hated, except for maybe yourself, and you hated that he thought he had the right to check up on you now when he was the reason you were even in this state at all.

“let’s see. i think you last talked to me on the fifteenth of january, two years ago? so it’s gotta be the sixteenth.” maybe it wasn’t fair to confront him with the effects of what he did like this, but it hadn’t been fair of him to leave you hanging like this either. he deserved this, deserved to know what the fuck he’d done to you. that he’d destroyed the happy, passionate, excited you that you’d been, replacing her with a bitter, suicidal bitch with trust issues through the roof.

“why?” he seemed confused, and you wanted to spit in his face. you wanted to punch him. you wanted anything but to have to talk to him.

“take a wild fucking guess.” and with those words you turned on your heel, leaving him with his emotions as you left with the bottle of alcohol that wouldn’t make it to the next morning.

you were slipping again. picked up all the bad habits you’d had, barely getting sleep because you still had to study, were still obsessed with getting the best grades, but now also had unhealthy habits to feed, so there wasn’t a lot of time left for sleep. it didn’t matter, though - why sleep if you’d only have nightmares either way?

luckily you didn’t see mingi again after that night. that was, until he’d somehow figured out your major, your classes, your schedule, and was waiting for you in front of your classroom after your last class for the day. you tried to bolt, but he grabbed your wrist instinctively to keep you from running away. when you yelped out in pain, though, he let go as if he’d just burned himself. until now he hadn’t even noticed what you looked like. but now that he did, it broke his heart.

“what do you want now? want to fuck me up again? because i can do that by myself now, thank you very much.” your voice shot daggers at him, and he looked like a hit puppy. what made this worse was that he knew you were right.

“please talk to me. i brought vodka.” he didn’t intend to give it to you, but you didn’t have to know that. and his weak bribing worked, which only made him feel even more awful. just how fucking hurt did you have to be to talk to him, the guy you very obviously hated, just because he offered you free booze?

“come.” and you did, followed him to a park near uni you knew was notorious for getting fucked or wasted, and you intended to keep up this reputation as you sat down next to him.

“alcohol.” it wasn’t even a question, you just demanded the bottle, but he wasn’t about to comply.

“first you talk to me.”

the angry glare you gave him could have killed him had you kept it up for longer than a couple seconds, but you sighed in frustration and looked away.

“fine then, talk. but this vodka better be damn good.”

he didn’t know how to start, though. ran his hands through his hair and shifted constantly and looked everywhere but at you. but then, finally, he got his shit together.

“what happened to you?” his eyes were fixed on your arms, the arms whose skin was a lot smoother and healthier the last time he’d seen it, and his voice was soft, almost as if he cared. maybe it was because of that that your reply held less sharpness than the past ones had.

“what do you think?” and his heart broke. he didn’t want it to be him, he didn’t want this to be because of him, he didn’t want to be at fault for so much pain and suffering.

“it’s me.” and when you nodded he wished someone’d beat him up, hard and good, just so he’d feel at least some pain as a payback for all the pain he’d caused you.

your voice was surprisingly soft when you continued, and you didn’t even know why yourself.

“it’s nothing big. i just… slipped, i guess. had a really hard time. i don’t even know what happened to make you hate me like that, and that got to me. like, we didn’t argue or anything, so it wasn’t like i had a reason to stop caring about you. it just felt like without you nothing mattered.”

you sounded calm, collected, but voicing it like this brought back all the hurt, and you just really wanted the alcohol now. you grabbed around him in order to retrieve the bottle from his bag, but he caged you in a hug, effectively making you unable to move.

“it’s a big deal. fuck, y/n, look at you. how is this not a big deal? you can’t even talk to me without getting wasted.”

and even though he was right you hated how it sounded like that was your fault, not his. you hated how it sounded like you were weak for this when he had no idea what the fuck you’d been through these past two years. it made you angry.

“and you’re better? straight up ignoring me for however long it took me to get the hint like some pussy instead of talking to me? we used to be best friends, for fuck’s sake!” you tried to hide your heartbrokenness behind this anger, and once more the person who used to always be there to hold you when you needed it let go of you as if you’d burned him. not even now could he man up.

“you know what? fuck this. fuck your vodka and fuck you. don’t fucking talk to me again. as i said, i’m fucking my life up enough without you there to aid in the process.” and you tried to get up, but he grabbed you by your waist, not wanting to hurt you but refusing to let you go in this state when he hadn’t even gotten to talk to you yet. it was selfish, he knew it was, but he wanted to explain himself. he didn’t know if it’d help you, but he needed the closure. he needed you to know why he’d acted like that and then decide if you still wanted to hate him.

“i’m not letting go”, he said as you struggled in his grip, “not until you’ve listened.”

“i don’t fucking want to hear it!” now you were yelling, and it was only because everyone else in this park was too busy or too knocked out to fully comprehend what was happening that he wasn’t getting his ass beat by a stranger coming to your aid.

“you’re going to listen. you know i’m stronger.” this was an asshole move. it was a massive asshole move, using his strength against you to keep you trapped with him. but your state had him throw out any ethical concerns he otherwise would’ve had, instead pulling you into his lap and holding you tightly.

“then fucking talk and get this over with.” your body had gone slack in his arms, because you knew struggling against him wasn’t going to work. your voice still held the same sharpness to it though. you really hated him.

“you act like i didn’t have a reason”, he started quietly, covering your mouth with his hand when you tried to interrupt him. “but i did. the fuck do you think i felt when you kept being better at everything than me? everything was easy for you, you just went with your feeling, and i was doing awful but i kept trying even though it was hard as shit and you didn’t even notice. you went out to meet people and have a good time while i was sitting home alone trying to keep up. you didn’t even care. i told you i couldn’t join and every single time you just said ‘okay, another time then!’. you didn’t notice how much i missed you. and i got sick and tired of being the only one that’s missing their best friend.”

you listened to what he said and couldn’t believe he was serious right now. he completely broke you because you didn’t spend enough time with him?

“what the fuck, mingi. what the fuck. you wrecked me because you were sulky about me not being around 24/7? let go of me right now or i’m going to break your nose, you know i will.” he knew you would, so he did as you told him to, but not without trying to defend himself.

“it wasn’t that, it was that you never even tried to make follow-up plans! you kept going out with other friends, friends that didn’t have to spend all their nights home studying. you just replaced me.”

“and you didn’t think to fucking talk to me about it? i missed you like crazy, you fucking asshole, but i went out with others because i knew you had to study and because i didn’t want to keep you from that. because i dared to care more about your success than about what i wanted. and then you just dumped me, one day to the next, without an explanation, because you thought i didn’t care? does breaking off all other social contacts look like not caring to you? do hospitalisations look like not caring to you? does this”, you motioned to yourself, “look like not caring to you? i knew you were a coward, but back then i thought it was cute. now i just think it’s pathetic.” you all but spat those last words at his face, and he knew you were right. he knew all that now, but back then he’d been so scared of losing you that he forced himself to lose you. fucking idiotic.

“you act like it didn’t hurt me, too.”

“you sure didn’t act like it when you started fucking around with some people you’d never even talked to right after you decided ignoring me was the way to go!” you were crying now, crying and screaming at him, and you despised yourself for the vulnerability you were showing.

“give me the vodka, mingi.” but he didn’t. and when you tried to grab it he took the bag from you, leaving you staring into the air.

“give me the fucking vodka or i’m gonna leave right now and get my own. and then you’re never gonna see me again.”

but instead of handing you the bottle he all but jumped up, wrapping his arms around you tightly and sounding so incredibly desperate that you felt your anger vanish at his next words.

“please don’t- please don’t do that. please don’t kill yourself. hate me, break my nose, whatever, but please don’t go like that. i can’t handle it. i’m nothing without you.”

and it was now that he started crying, tears soaking the fabric on your shoulder, shaking as if there was an earthquake inside of him that would make him fall to shambles any second. you hadn’t even realised that you might have implied what he obviously thought you meant - what you meant was that this time you’d be the one to ignore him, pretending he didn’t even exist. but his reaction to potentially losing you in a whole new way made you think that maybe, he cared.

“i’m not going to kill myself over you, butthead.” and while your words held a similar level of sharpness to them as they had before, your voice was much softer, calmer - you patted his hands that were linked together in front of your stomach to keep you from leaving, trying to comfort him for whatever reason. he didn’t deserve it, and you were still so angry at him, but he’d been your best friend, your other half, and you still didn’t like to see him suffer like this, even though the part in you that wanted him to feel all the pain you’d felt wouldn’t agree.

“i don’t want to lose you again”, he whimpered against your shoulder. “i never want to lose you again.”

“so what’s your plan? i’m never gonna forget what you did, mingi, i’m never gonna forget how as soon as i start getting happy you come back, crashing into my life as if nothing had happened. i’m never going to let anyone hold me back again.”

“i’m not going to hold you back”, he pleadingly spoke into your skin, “i’m not going to message you, i’m not going to ask to meet up, i’m not going to wait in front of your class, nothing. i’ll only be there when you ask me to.”

“and you think that’d help? having me do all the work again, having me beg for your attention again? you think that’s even remotely what i want?” you weren’t angry at him, because it seemed like he was saying this for you, but you were frustrated. he still didn’t seem to understand at all what you wanted from him, what you’d wanted from him ever since he started ignoring you. you wanted him to fight for you, not vice versa.

“then let me fight for you. let me do the work. i’ll do anything, just please give me another chance. one very last chance. and please… stop all this.” you didn’t need to see him to know what he meant.

“that’s not how it works. i can’t just stop like that when i started. and you’re not gonna be able to fix me, if you think that.”

“i know, of course not, but… please try. it’s summer break soon. maybe then you could… i don’t know what you could. do something. i want to be there for you.”

you didn’t want to give in to him. you didn’t want to believe him. you wanted to keep being angry, you wanted to keep hating him, you didn’t want to risk the same kind of heartbreak you’d felt the first time he left. but this was mingi. and even though you refused to admit it even to yourself, you still missed him like crazy.

“let go.” and he did, hesitantly, but he did as you told him to.

“look at me. look me in the eyes and tell me you know what that’s gonna mean. tell me that you’ll be there when i’m in rehab and can’t go places and i’m angry as shit and hate everything and everyone and mainly you because you made me go to that stupid place. tell me you’ll be there when i relapse, not just once but so many times, and that you won’t get angry. tell me that you fucking know what it means, that you know you won’t be a priority, that there’s gonna be days where i won’t want to hear from you at all. tell me that you know you’re gonna have to fight for me, and tell me that you will. and if you can’t tell me that, let me leave right now to spare both of us the pain because it’s just gonna be a waste of time otherwise.”

“i’ll be there. every single day, or like. whenever i’m allowed to, i don’t know how rehab works. and when i can’t be there i’ll call you and text you, even if you hate me. i’ll hold you until you don’t hate me anymore. even if i have to spend the entire day holding you that’s how it is. i don’t fucking care what i’ll have to do, i’ll do it all. i miss you.” with those last words he pulled you into his chest, holding you tightly as he whispered a silent ‘please’ into your hair. and you didn’t want to believe him, didn’t want to get your hopes up, but part of you was still so soft for him. so, even though your mind was screaming at you to tell him to fuck off, your heart won, your heart made you wrap your arms around him and hold on tight.

“if you fuck up i’m breaking your legs.”

“if i fuck up i’m breaking them myself.” he knew this was his last chance. he knew that if he messed up now he’d be losing you forever, and that was a risk he wasn’t willing to take.

his hands were rubbing up and down your back, as gentle as you remembered him to be, while you were standing there and hugging and trying to calm down. you’d missed him so incredibly much and you wished you could stay in that moment forever.

“how are you feeling?” he could feel you were shaking slightly in his arms, though he wasn’t sure why. it could be the cool air, it could be the emotions running through you, it could be something he didn’t even want to think about. but either way he knew you should probably leave.

“it’s all so fucking much. i’m still pissed at you, but i guess i’m also glad that you’re here. and i’m fucking horrified.”

your shaking was most definitely at least partly owed to your emotional state, because it got worse now, you grabbing his t-shirt and clinging on to it for dear life.

“what are you scared of?” he sounded so fucking soft and calm and you wanted to crawl into his shirt and hide there and never leave for the real world ever again. you wanted him to keep you safe and to protect you because life and the things that were coming for you were scarier than you wanted to admit.

“you. rehab. my parents are gonna be so fucking hurt when i have to go back. fuck, i want the vodka.” but to your surprise you didn’t move to get it, you didn’t try to leave mingi’s embrace.

“you’re staying the night at my place”, he informed you, and you looked up at him in surprise.

“this talk was long overdue, but to be honest even i could use some vodka right now. i don’t want to imagine how you’re feeling, but i know i’m not gonna leave you alone in that state. no won’t count.”

“you know you won’t be able to just make me stop like that?”, you asked, wanting to be sure he didn’t have some weird saviour complex that made him think that just because he was there all your problems would suddenly vanish. but he seemed to know, even though he wished that was how it worked.

“not forever, but tonight’s a good start. i just want to be with you right now.” and even though you really wanted to get drunk you wanted to spend the night with mingi more, something that surprised you, especially considering how you’d just told him he wouldn’t be able to make you stop.

“i’m not going back there yet though, so if anything we’ll go to my place”, was the compromise you offered, and he gladly accepted. he held your hand almost the entire way, refusing to not be touching you in some way now that he might get you back, and this was less awkward than having his arm around your shoulders, which he’d tried first.

your apartment was a mess, you knew it was, but instead of judging you the tall male just kicked whatever trash you’d left on the floor out of the way to make his way to your bed, where he intended to spend the rest of the day and the entire night. he wrapped his arms around you as soon as you’d settled next to him, pulling you close like he used to when you were younger.

“i’m so sorry for all this”, he whispered, “so so fucking sorry.” and even though you’d somewhat sorted what had happened in the past, this was the first time he actually apologised. you hadn’t known how much you needed to hear him apologise until he did, whining out slightly as you pressed yourself closer against him. you wanted him to keep talking, keep apologising, keep promising that he wasn’t going to leave. but he was quiet after that, so instead of his comforting words your thoughts filled the silence in your head.

“keep talking before i get up”, you told him, the choice of words making it sound like a threat but the pleading way you said it making it clear that you were all but begging him. and he complied, luckily he complied, because you wouldn’t be able to keep your thoughts away for much longer.

“i missed you every day. it wasn’t fun to sit at lunch without you, or be in class, or do anything, really. i know it’s my fault, but back then i expected you to fight more, and when you just stopped trying after a while i thought i was right, even though you tried to talk to me every day for like two weeks and every single time i just straight up acted like i didn’t even hear you. i have no idea what i expected you to do, actually. sing me a love song in front of my window?” he chuckled a little, though it sounded somewhat bitter.

“i think that’s what i was secretly hoping for, if i’m real. not a love song, maybe, but some kinda confession. but instead of opening my mouth myself i just hoped that you’d get the hint i never even dropped. guess i really am a coward, huh?” he was running a hand through your hair, gently scratching your scalp whenever he dragged his fingers down because back then you’d liked that and he hoped you still did.

“you’re an idiot”, you mumbled, though his somewhat-confession made you feel all weird inside. you’d liked him back then, too, but admittedly he hadn’t been the only coward. and before you’d ever had the chance to gather the courage to confess he’d cut you off.

“i know. i don’t think i’ve ever done anything more stupid than that. and now i’ve wasted my chance and have to live with the fact that i’ll die without ever having gotten to kiss you. it’s my own fault, though.” there was a hint of playful resignation in his tone, as if this confession was more to get it off his chest than it was for him to actually confess to you - as if it hadn’t even occurred to him that you might feel the same way.

“just do it now.”

he hadn’t expected that, surprise apparent when he asked: “can i?”, and you knew you should say no, you shouldn’t be doing this, you shouldn’t be in your bed with mingi so close and telling him to kiss you, but you’d missed him, and you were hurt and happy and desperate, and you just wanted to feel loved. and though this didn’t have to be love, this didn’t have to mean as much as you wanted it to, you could pretend. you wanted to pretend, so you didn’t say ‘no’ as you should, but ‘yes’ as you wanted.

and he did it, leaning in to press his lips against yours but not moving any more until you hadn’t pulled away even after a few seconds. then he actually kissed you, his one thumb stroking your cheek while the other was fondling with some strands of hair at the back of your head. and you knew your breath was gross, still reeking of the alcohol you’d drunk earlier that day, but mingi didn’t care. you were warm and soft against him and you were there and he’d take whatever he could get from you, even if it was vodka breath.

you didn’t want him to pull away, because you feared that once he did your world would come crashing down again and he’d tell you that now his curiosity was stilled and this should remain a one-time thing.

and you feared that you’d been right about this being a one-time thing, because he apologised as soon as he broke the kiss. but he didn’t apologise for what you thought he’d apologise for.

“i shouldn’t have done that. not like this. fuck, i just took advantage of this entire situation, i’m so sorry. fuck. feel free to break my nose.”

“don’t break my heart and i won’t break your bones. deal?” the big smile he gave you was so easy to see even though it was starting to get dark outside now, and you felt a small smile tug at the corners of your own mouth. he was here, and he’d kissed you, and maybe he’d do it again. maybe you’d finally be able to be okay again, actually okay, really okay.

“i promise.” he pulled your head into his chest, resuming to run his fingers through your hair and telling you sweet nothings.

“you’re so beautiful. so kind and so strong, such a fighter. i’m so glad i’m here right now, so grateful you let me, and i’m never going to leave again, ever. i’m here now, and you won’t have to be alone anymore. i’ll try to make it right, all the things i did wrong. i’m sorry. but i’m with you now.”

you were pretty certain he wasn’t even thinking much about what he was saying, just saying anything that was on his mind, as much for you as for himself. but even if it wasn’t for you that he was saying all this, it still helped you, comforted you, gave you some hope. one thing you had to clear up, though.

“we’re not a thing”, you murmured into his chest, though the way you were clinging to him betrayed your words, showed how much you wanted to be. “we’re not a thing because you don’t know anything. you can’t play a video game on easy and then enter the world championship and think you’ll win. i can’t talk to you for a single day and then think it’d work out.”

and mingi got it. he knew that this was a decision that had to be made logically, not based on what he wanted in that moment. but that didn’t mean he was just going to give up like this. he told you he’d fight for you, and he would.

“talk to me more, then. i told you i’m not going to leave.”

“you say that now.” there was sadness in your voice, resignation. “but it’s different when i’m shitfaced. when i’m crying my eyes out because recovery is hard and i don’t want to anymore. when i call you at 3 in the morning begging you to come over and check on me and make sure i’m not dying because i’m scared i went too deep this time. when i tell you i hate you even though you didn’t do shit just because i need someone to take my anger out on. none of this shit is pretty or romantic and the sooner you realise that, the better.”

“i’m going to be there.” he didn’t say more and you were glad about that, because even though you’d been the one to bring all this up you didn’t want to talk about it, you just wanted to be held and comforted and protected. and he did, he held you until you fell asleep, and was still holding you when you woke up the next morning.

it was weird to be back with mingi. it was familiar but completely different, and it was hard, as you’d told him it’d be. but he kept his promise, even though it hurt to see you struggle and in pain, he was there when you needed him and he was there when you didn’t. he was there to hold you when you called your parents to tell them you had to go back to rehab, and he was there to calm your nerves the day before you left, force-feeding you snacks to keep your mouth busy because by now he’d learned the signs of when you really craved alcohol and while he learned that the most he could usually do was to make sure you didn’t drink yourself into a coma that night he made sure you didn’t drink at all, because you were going to rehab the next day and he wanted you to have decent starting conditions and he knew you wanted that, too, and a hangover was the worst starting condition you could possibly have. he was there to kiss you that night, because even though you’d been the one to tell him to not try anything until he’d proven he meant it the snacks just didn’t do it and you needed something else in your mouth. he knew it was just your desperation that had made you beg him to please kiss you, but he did, he was there as he’d promised, even when it hurt like this. he was there to hold you when you cried into his chest after, promising you that it would be okay and that he would be right there the entire time and when you got back, too.

he was there the next day when you clung on to his hand with a force that could probably break his fingers sooner or later, horrified of entering the building in front of you. he was there to hold you in place when you tried to bolt as soon as they started the admission process, he was there to tell you that he was so proud of you and to promise you that it would be okay. he was there to call you that night, relieved that you were allowed to, and he was there to talk you through all your fears. he was there a week later, when you were first allowed to get visitors, with a rather big teddy bear wearing one of his shirts and a self-made card that read “one week sober!”, small celebratory drawings all over.

“i wanted to bring a cake, but they don’t do that with people that just started. you’ll get one at the one month mark though, pinky promise.” you linked your pinky with his for maybe two seconds before you threw yourself into his arms, clinging on to him as if your life depended on it.

“please take me home. please just take me home”, pleaded into his shoulder repeatedly, like a mantra, and he held you so tight.

“it’s worth it, my strong little angel, it’s okay. i promise.” he was rubbing up and down your back comfortingly, continuously saying how proud he was until you let go just enough to look into his face and see the warmth in his eyes.

“you’re going to stay right here until they kick you out”, you ordered, though what you were actually doing was begging him to please not leave you alone until he had to. you felt like the odd one out here, the only alcoholic still in their twenties, and their early twenties at that. the only other person roughly your age was a guy with an anxiety disorder that looked at you like you were the filth of the earth, and that didn’t exactly make you want to talk to him. you missed mingi, you missed seeing him, and having to watch the other patients be able to go out and meet people outside the therapy times when in your state you’d have to stay until the staff could be certain you weren’t going to relapse only made it worse.

“they’ll have to drag me out by the ears”, he reassured you, and finally you smiled, a genuine smile that made his heart hurt a little less.

“call this one mingi”, pointing to the teddy bear that had been discarded when you’d flung yourself into his arms, “and pretend he’s me. not as good as the real deal, but at least he’s wearing my t-shirt.”

“butthead.” but you looked at him with, as he hoped, the same feelings he had for you, which showed him that he’d chosen a good gift.

he brought you a small gift whenever he came by, and after bothering the nurses continuously (which resulted in them begging the staff in charge of your unit to please let him get his way) he was allowed to bring you food, though only in sealed packages which they checked closely for both the ingredients and even the slightest chance of him having managed to put alcohol in. it was somewhat of a hassle, but the way your expression brightened when he brought you your favourite cereal from when you were 12 and which you’d stopped eating by age 15 because it was ‘for children’ was definitely worth it. things still weren’t easy, especially with how cut off you felt from the outside world, and there had been several nights where you’d screamed at mingi on the phone about how much you hated him for having caused all this and then being cut off by the nurses because your phone time was over before you’d had a chance to tell him that you were sorry for screaming like this, but he never got upset with you for that. instead, he texted you an apology to see after dinner, along with telling you how proud he was. and he stayed, as he’d promised you.

your one month of sobriety was the day you were discharged, because you’d been doing surprisingly well and because you’d managed to convince your responsible treatment team that you’d do better if you didn’t feel so alone and cut off, if you had the chance to do things rather than sit in the hospital all day and overthink your situation. you had an outpatient treatment plan and when you’d told mingi about being dismissed he kindly but sternly told you that he’d kick your ass into next monday if you didn’t follow it. and now he was here, picking you up both from the facility and from the ground, twirling you around as soon as you were in his arms. you’d agreed that you’d spend the first few days at his place, so that’s where he brought you now.

the tall male carried the few things you had with you into his flat while you stood next to the car, taking a little while to get used to the thought of being a part of the outside world again. you were glad mingi was there, because while you were so happy to be out it was still scary to know that now it was up to you alone whether you relapsed or not.

you were delighted to see that he’d kept his promise about the one month mark-cake, because while it wasn’t exactly pretty you soon found out that it made up for that in taste, and also because it was so sweet and thoughtful. it seemed like he’d prepared a little party for you, with one of those silly ‘welcome home’ banners hanging in the living room and colourful plastic cups on the table, next to various kinds of juice and soda. you had no idea how, but he’d even managed to organise strawberry soda, something that you hadn’t seen in stores in ages.

“butthead.” you didn’t know how else to react to all this. it was so much, so unnecessarily much that you didn’t know whether to cry with happiness or to smack him because this probably took a lot of time and money. you decided that calling him butthead again would be a good compromise.

“angel”, he grinned at you, entirely unbothered by your (admittedly weak) insult. then his expression turned serious, walking over to stand right next to you with a few long steps before he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a hug.

“i’m so glad you’re back, you know that? i missed you like crazy.”

“i missed you too. don’t let go.”

he wasn’t planning on doing that anyway. he’d be so stupid if he did. and he’d be so stupid if he didn’t tell you how he felt.

“i love you. i love you i love you i love you. now break my nose for being a butthead.”

“be my butthead and i’ll consider leaving your bones intact.” you tried to play it cool, but your heart was beating so hard you feared it would jump out of your chest, and this time you could be 100% sure that it wasn’t withdrawals. it was just mingi, the boy who’d kept his promise to be there, the boy who’d helped you piece yourself back together in some way again. the boy who wanted to be with you even though the way you’d pieced yourself back together was so far from who he’d known before you shattered. it was mingi, the boy whom you loved back.

“so the b in bf stands for butthead? that’s what you’re saying?” he was teasing you, just a little, but it was okay because you could tell he was just nervous and scared that he might have misunderstood you and was trying to mask that through his joke.

“or maybe it stands for big beautiful boyfriend, you decide.”

“i’ll take the boyfriend! i’ll take the boyfriend. please let me be your boyfriend.” looking at you pleadingly, though also somewhat excited, and you knew you’d never let him go again.

“then you’re my big beautiful boyfriend. what am i?”

you were expecting him to joke, but he didn’t. he was entirely serious when he said: “you’re my world.”

and this seriousness overwhelmed you just a little bit, so that you were left speechless. and he continued.

“you’re the most beautiful person i’ve ever seen. you’re my strong little angel.”

“you’re not supposed to be so sweet, i don’t know how to handle it”, you whined out, but he just smiled down at you, taking in every detail of your face.

“get used to it.” you knew you wouldn’t ever get used to it, you knew you wouldn’t ever get enough of him telling you sweet things like that. maybe you’d get better at reacting over time, though. but since right now you were very much not good at reacting yet, you said something that maybe wasn’t the most appropriate reaction to his sweet-talking you.

“you know i still hate you though, right?” even though your voice gave away that you didn’t, far from.

“makes for a great enemies to lovers storyline”, he teased, smiling down at you with entire galaxies in his eyes.

“just kiss me, butthead.”

it didn’t take more than a few seconds before he did. he kissed you slowly, because you had all the time in the world, thumb tracing all your features while your hands were wrapped around his neck. and while your first kisses had been bitter with alcohol and desperation, this one was sweet with cake and love.

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word-addict-lisette · 3 years ago

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Dear Lisette,

I am back in you inbox, yay! How was your day? How's life? How's school?

I am really mad because we had this piece of work and it was like "pen down your idea on this statement, 'i can do whatever i want on the internet as long as i don't get caught' and i put down my thoughts which were 'this statement is true, i stand by it and you can do whatever you like as long as you don't get caught and don't own up' and then people were like throwing shade at me and i looked at it. I have 5 comments.

My teachers tried to delete it, my classmates literally lectured me and then she read it out loud and the whole class went looking for that one note i made. In the comments, people are spelling my name in caps. It was my opinion, and oh, look all of them are basically hypocrites. Let me just say, these people make me uncomfortable, they don't talk about exactly nice things or approriate things and they are all commenting ( without names too may i add) like "KAT, THAT'S NOT HOW THINGS WORK!" but with my real name and just arghhh.

Also if my teachers wanted me to say, "no, that isn't the right thing to do," or any other answer that the others provided them with, they shouldn't have asked for my opinion. They should have just forced us all to just type the same thing. The other people all wrote like, "no, its unethical and bad" or "False, no, its bad" and stuff like that, filmsy evidence and elaboration. I HAVE MORALS, i am just saying the truth. I feel like the victim of a hate crime. People don't like me enough already, i am a very intresting person, uh, yeah, we are gonna stop there.

Enjoy the rant i guess? I don't know? I am sorry for loading on you but there's a little extra rant so uh, yeah. im just gonna take this out, one sec.

Ok, so uh my teacher was like, next week, we are making pancakes. Fluffy pancakes. It was changed to pancakes without eggs? and now we have to make it ourselves, at home. Where do i get flour? What do i do with the extra flour? I don't know how to cook at all, my partner who has been extremely controlling and like kinda driving me insane, ( ahem i did the whole coursework) also she uses my friend's name for everything? Like, bestie i was literally helping out and you went all, "Oh you don't want (friend's name) to see you burnt right?". Obviously i don't but if i burnt down my house, she wouldn't be surprised. I BURNT MYSELF LAST YEAR, SHE SAW ME BURN MYSELF. Well, my friend burnt me and then the week after that, she burnt herself.

This happens a lot. Also, the very common questions and statements of, "Are you straight?" , "aren't you and (friend's name) dating?", "you guys would make such a cute couple" , " aren't you bi?" and "i thought the two of you were dating," there is nothing wrong with being bi but i am not attracted to her like that. So, they use her for leverage over me to get me to do what they want and also think im dating her? If we were dating, we would both be homeless. I like my house. This doesn't only happen with her. I once got shipped with my brother. I hugged him and some guy was like, "oh you guys like each other," that was awkward. Can i just add, a lot of people like majority of that community know we are siblings.

I also get shipped with his best friend, thanks to a rumor my brother made up. So, sometimes, i would get like comments like, "oh, you like him" or "(brother's name) told me that you and (brother's best friend) are dating," we are not dating. WE ARE JUST REALLY GOOD FRIENDS. I LIKE A FICTIONAL CHARACTER. LEAVE ME ALONE. Also, everytime i have a picture of a guy on my phone or something my cousin just has to tell my brother. THEY ARE STREAMERS. ONE IS OF V FROM BTS SO I CAN TRAMATISE MY FRIEND.

Everytime i cry, someone comes in my room. It is so annoying. LEAVE ME ALONE, I WANT TO CRY. This is why i started reading sad books, listening to sad songs, watching sad movies so i have a reason to cry. There was this once, i wasnt selected to be part of my choir's competition and i was sad about it because i didn't feel good enough. THEY SAID I WASN'T GOOD ENOUGH. So, i cried but it wasn't enough so i read the saddest book i could find so i had a reason to cry but by that time, my feelings were gone. This is why i get breakdowns when im overwhelmed because of all this. You know how old i am. I have to deal with this and the pressure of always wanting to be perfect. What else can i do? I am not pretty or smart or talented or have friends, i have like 6 friends and nobody ever keeps me company. So, i focus on being perfect. 100%, i deal with not having any attention because my parents didn't pay me any attention just because i was "independent" or something?

Did i mention, i babysit all my siblings? I am the second child. I baby-sit my older brother. I am sleep-deprived because i can't sleep well at night and i constantly worry about everything and i have to take care of all my friends and it is so exhausting. Yet, i can not cry.

Thanks for staying with me through whatever that was. Uh, yeah, i took the quiz and got chaotic academia. That is my aesthetic. I really want one of those fancy skirts they wear like on pintrest and stuff? Like you know what i mean? The academia skirt? Yeah, i don't have one yet.

Question of the day, what is your dream profession or you could answer my other question which is what would you want to look like? Or you could answer both?

Ok, thank you again. i am gonna go study. Love and hugs and just literal joy sent your way!

- Kat, the ultimate dino mom of Leo, Billy Bob, Jessica, Sophie, Jackson, Sarah, Lily, the Micheals and all her other kids. (Jessica, Sophie and Jackson are mailboxes and Lily is a computer, Micheal is my screwdriver and laptop pencil, there are two micheals.)

Dear Kat,

It's really good to see you in my inbox. I'm sorry for replying late, but exams really had occupied my schedule today and I got my Saturday exam tomorrow. This week is going to be stressful and today's day has been pathetic. I had nothing to do except study and write exams. I feel like I haven't really been social recently and That I'm losing touch with people that I used to be close with and basically I'm letting overthinking take over my mind.

That is so sick. Why is someone's genuine opinion bothering them so much? I totally wouldn't be able to tolerate that. They ought to understand that there is a fine line between a fact and an opinion, and what you stated was just an OPINION. they have no right whatsoever to come at you like that. I totally agree... the teachers ought to have not asked for your opinion if all they desired was a particularly specific answer which opposed the statement. one of the reasons I hate the schooling system has to be THIS. people who are putting comments like that ought to realize that what you stated is exactly what they do in real life. They just want to be seen as the good kid here. At least you have the guts enough to speak the truth.

Miss! You don't have to worry about ranting out to me. You can rant to me for days and I'd still listen. Just go on ranting nobody is stopping you.

Ahhh! I've had that happen to me. I really understand how tough that can be. I really really hate being shipped with someone who I am just platonically friends with like you've got no valid proof to believe that we are romantically involved with each other. I've burnt myself plenty of times too. It's not a pleasant experience. Plus I also hate having controlling partners. Cause all they do is boss you around while they are barely doing a thing. It sucks.

Why? Just why? Why does it even matter to them? Who you date and what your sexuality is, is none of their business. I have no idea why people concern themselves with topics that really don't involve them. It's like people are just ready to make gossip out of anything. A person can't have a bestie without not liking them? I don't get what's so difficult to understand about that. I hate it when I'm casually talking to a guy and people start shipping us and start spreading rumors of us being in a romantic relationship. Another thing they do is, if a person likes me, they automatically assume that I like him back when I've barely even ever spoken to that guy. And yes! I like fictional characters! Don't even assume I like any of you fools cause You idiots bully me and ship me with total crackheads... And my standards are good enough for me to not include you guys in my list of *appropriate candidates* which consists of non-existent people.

Similarly, the moment I'm chatting with some guy, or like have a pic with someone on my mobile phone people just assume that fact that I'm crushing on him. Like no! I don't. We are friends... the others are celebrities, Why can't you understand that? I can't imagine how thick their skull must be considering they can't let a small statement like that sink in.

The crying thingy... I feel personally attacked. Nobody lets me do anything in peace, let alone crying. I literally use the washroom in my room and even my sister comes in there just banging on the door asking me to get the heck out of there and go somewhere else, like can't she use the other two washrooms or what? I like listening to sad stuff and reading angst cause somehow or the other it calms me down... it makes me feel at peace cause I know I'm not the only one who feels like crying. I've got a lot of friends, nobody remembers my birthday, I remember all of theirs'. They don't even text me, It's always me who takes the first step. All my friends just want me by their side cause I'm a smartass they want to show off as a trophy and cause I've got much better sarcasm than them. They just want to benefit from me. That's all. GOD, I'm not pretty at all. I look like a random idiot all the time. I look pathetic. And I lack talent... And you! I warned you, miss! You are pretty, beautiful, talented, smart, friendly, caring, kind and THE BEST!!!

I've never been given attention. Never ever. My sister has always stolen the spotlight. And I hate it. Not even my friends acknowledge me, my parents just ehhhhh. No matter how good I score, No matter how good I behave, No matter what. I'm just never good enough. My parents think of me as a rebellious kid. And I don't know what to do about that. All I've ever done is listen to them. My parents never allowed me to go out and play with my friends when I was a kid, they never let me go on overnight trips, and they barely let me spend time with the few friends I have. They never let me go to outings my school friends planned. Despite that, I never complained. I never had good friends because of that, yet I never complained. A lot of kids my age roam around in shopping malls by themselves, have sleepovers, spend money, roam around with tons of makeup on their faces, are in relationships, and even get into illegal shit. I've never done anything Like that. And yet... I'm never the good kid. I'm still the rebel.

I've got to take care of my sister almost every day. Get her to study, study myself, take care of myself while tolerating my grandmother. I really don't like my grandma, she s very fussy and just keeps yelling around the house the moment my dad and mom leave the house. I've got sensory overload because of her voice. And now I sit and have an anxiety attack almost every time she speaks. I've always got to strive for perfection as well. And I too can't sleep well at night just cause all the worries of the world, keep weighing me down.

Chaotic academia sounds good. It's the same aesthetic my sister got when I asked her to take the test! And oooh! Me too! I love those skirts and outfits they show on Pinterest. I'd love to have them someday.

My dream profession has to be that of a writer. Or perhaps even running a library. just something cozy. Ohh! I'd love to have brown hair, and I'd want to be tall just a little shorter than What I am right now. I just reached my father's height yesterday. And more or less, I'd like the rest to stay just as it is. and perhaps a lighter shade of skin tone. What about you though?

My question for you! If you were to be stranded on a beach island for a week. Who would you bring with you and how would you spend your time there. You can include whatever elements of nature you want to include like forests, lakes, and all.

Sending love, warmth, hugs, and whatever I have to spare that you would like to you!!!!

-Love from Lisette

P.S. That's an interesting family you've got, right there!

#kat the eccentric(indeed)#sweet sweet asks #dear kat #love from lisette #long post

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ceruleanmusings · 4 years ago

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Fandom: Big Time Rush Pairing: James Diamond x Mickey Mason (OC) Rating: T (for some cursing) Word Count: 11.3k Summary: When James gets a secret admirer gift on Valentine’s Day, he drags Mickey around the Palm Woods to find the sender – not knowing the sender is closer than he thinks. Contents: mentioned social anxiety, angst, idiots who like each other being idiots, semi-reluctant pining, show-standard humor and highjinks, implied disordered eating, valentine’s day, envy, self-loathing A/N: I was going to wait until the 14th to post this but I need to get it off my hands so I can stop picking and editing it to death. Have at it! Hope you like it! ALSO! Someone please let me know if it gets truncated at James’s text. On mobile it says the post is too long and cuts it off at the end but on desktop it’s fine. If I have to delete this and make it a two-parter I will! You need to see the proper ending! Also please leave comments on the fic if you liked it and feel so inclined (no pressure obvs), I’d love to read them on the body rather than tags so I can save them somewhere. :) Happy Valentine’s Day! Tag: @mystic-scripture @foxesandmagic @witchofinterest @juliesdahlias @raging-violets @ocfairygodmother @lareiism

Propping the large wicker basket against her popped hip, Mickey knocked on the door right beneath the square 2J placard. Her knuckles briefly touched the wood on the fourth knock when the door swung inwards. She quickly stopped her extending arm in its tracks, her fist resting inches from Kendall’s face. Eyes crossed, staring at her knuckles, he took a step back.

“Oh! Sorry Kindle. I didn’t think you’d get to the door so fast,” she apologized, wrapping her arms around the basket, bringing it to her front.

“You know, the door’s always open. You don’t have to knock.” As Kendall spoke, he moved to the side and brought his arm back in a sweeping gesture.

“Excuse me?” Mickey’s eyebrow popped upwards and she walked past him. “Kindle Knight, my momma’d have my hide if I just barged into someone’s home!” She carefully set the basket down onto the nearby table. Leaning her weight against one palm on the tabletop, she placed another on her hip. “I know there’s such a thing as being ‘Minnesota Nice’, but y’all’re asking for it.”

Kendall scoffed. “What do you mean? The only person who’d come right in is Bitters—and I see your point,” Kendall said. Mickey winked and made a clicking noise out the side of her mouth. “Is that it?” He gestured to the basket as he approached.

“Yep!” Lifting the lid, she removed a gallon Ziploc bag and set it aside as she leaned forward to review the contents. Not that she needed to, she made double-triple-quadruple sure everything she’d prepared the night before and that morning was in its rightful place before she snuck out. Jazz hadn’t noticed beneath her flurry of helping Mel pick out something for her date with Dak to Malibu. “If you don’t mind, I took a few liberties with what you wanted.” When he’d originally pulled her aside during a recording session asking her to make a picnic for him and Jazz, he’d merely shrugged and suggested that she put in anything “Valentine-y” when she asked if he wanted anything specific. So, she zhooshed it up a little; her sister deserved the best and that’s what she was going to ensure Kendall gave her. “You have a bottle of sparkling cider, strawberries, smoked salmon, caper, and goat cheese topped crostini, spinach and feta cheese pastry spirals, barbeque bacon and chicken bites, and, for dessert, slices of strawberry rhubarb pie and two flutes of beignet tiramisu with chocolate ganache.”

Kendall’s nose wrinkled. “Chocolate guh-whaaa?”

“Goodbye!” Mickey shoved the basket into his arms. Tilting her head to the side, she studied his red plaid shirt and reached out to fix the collar. “Keep the cold stuff in the insulated bag until you’re ready to eat it or else the beignets will start to get soggy.” Her tongue stuck out the side of her mouth when she went for the fringe of hair poking out from beneath his beanie. Ordinarily she’d balk at the sight of him wearing it, on a date no less, but Jazz liked him in his beanies so she could let it slide. Taking a step back, she surveyed the rest of his appearance and nodded her approval. “You’re all set! If you’re worried about your breath, I threw in some Ice Breakers and mini floss. Jazz is waiting for you at the park.”

“Thanks so much for this, Mickey,” he said, flashing a dimpled smile. His green eyes crinkled in the corners. “I really appreciate it.”

She beamed and a rush of satisfaction sent a pleased flush to her cheeks. She rocked back and forth on her navy Docs. “What are friends for if they can’t help you woo their sister?”

“…To give me free food?”

She pinched his cheek. “You’re lucky I like you.” Making a ‘shoo’ gesture with her hands, Mickey pushed Kendall towards the door. He flashed a finger guns sign at her and hurried away. Shaking her head, she turned on her heel, her locs cascading over one shoulder with the turn. “Okay Katie, he’s gone,” she called up to the loft above.

With a thumping commotion, Katie spilled out the open mouth of the swirly slide. Rounding the table, she crossed her arms. “You got the stuff?”

Mickey mimicked her gesture, raising a brow. “You got a cooler? I’m not letting all my hard work go to waste.”

Katie lifted her chin. “Yeah, I got a cooler.”

“Then I got your stuff.” Mickey picked up the Ziploc bag and handed it out to her. “Homemade chocolate turtles, at your service. I think seven per bag is a good amount. If anyone tries to push for more, remember that they’re the ones who are trying to get candy at the last minute on Valentine’s Day.”

“Got it!” With an eager—and almost manic—grin, Katie snatched the bag out of Mickey’s hands and shoved them into the small red cooler sitting atop of the breakfast bar. She dragged the cooler off the counter and hurried past her, making a beeline for the door. Calling over her shoulder she added, “And we’re splitting the profits 55-45.”

“Freeze, Kid!” Mickey squinted at Katie’s back, her hand gripping the doorknob. “We agreed on 50-50.” She wiggled a finger in the space between herself and Katie’s back.

Katie whirled around. “Yeah, but I have to think about my college fund. Between your band and playing bass for Big Time Rush, you have all the money you could need.” Mickey snorted. With widening eyes and a pout to her lower lip, Katie said. “Do you want to be the one to tell my mom you’re denying me the funds for a college education?”

Mickey pressed her lips together, doing her best to keep a smile off her face; partly in awe at her gall, and also partly with pride. The kid was good. Too good. Or else Mickey was a sucker for a well-placed pout. She poked her tongue into her cheek, dragging it against the soft, smooth surface and exhaled a sigh. “Fine! But if anyone asks where you got the candy from, make sure to mention my name. I want to try and get Mickey’s Morsels off the ground while I can. Guilty pleasures can be a good cash grab.”

“Then I want 10% of any future profits for the promotion.”

“Deal.”

“Deal!” Like Kendall, Katie pointed a finger gun gesture at her and hustled out the door.

When it slammed shut, Mickey dug her fingers into the side of her head. Geeze, this holiday. She didn’t mind making treats for her friends to use at their discretion, but she wanted no part in the holiday itself. It made people crazy, trying to find ways to profess their love for people. And for just that one day? The idea had never sat right with her. Why contain their appreciation to one day when the other three hundred and sixty-four were available? Not to mention the price gouging on flowers and candy—the turtle prices were reasonable!—and society’s penchant for making the single people feel like losers for not having that special someone for the one day.

Not that she was a loser. Okay, so maybe she had been slightly irked when she learned Mel and Jazz had plans with their boyfriends for the day. Her other sister, Sammi, had already flown to Nashville to be with her long-standing boyfriend for the occasion. Hell, even her aunt Kelly had a blind date for the night, a double with Miss Jennifer. (It wasn’t a blind date for Miss Jennifer, she was going out with Fabio. It was who Fabio was bringing for Kelly that attached the ‘blind’ classification. When Jazz offered up the suggestion Gustavo was her date, Kelly nearly broke her neck with how fast she denied that claim.)

She wasn’t envious, not at all, it’s just…well, it was a bit odd to be the only one without plans. They were supposed to do everything together, right? Wasn’t that the point of being born with them? How’d she miss the memo on getting a boyfriend? Not that it mattered. And she got over it anyway. Helping her sisters and her friends have special days was all she needed to feel fulfilled. With Kelly’s apartment empty, she had a pint of Häagen Dazs, a few pop-punk playlists, her pet ferret, and Legally Blonde to keep her company.

“Ahem.”

Or not.

Eyebrows crinkling, Mickey turned only to yelp at the sight of James stretched out on a black and white checkered blanket, one arm resting on a propped-up knee, the long stem of a deep red rose clamped between his smiling teeth. The orange couch had been pushed aside, allowing for the blanket to take its place on the floor. Plates of heart-shaped candy, brownies, soft pretzels, cookies, and cinnamon rolls covered the surface, nestled near two cans of Diet Coke, all beneath a crackling fire.

Mickey’s eyes widened and her thoughts raced so fast they nearly collided with one another. When did he get there? How did she not hear him? How did he set that up so fast? Where did he hide it? Where did he manage to find heart-shaped cinnamon rolls? He had to go for the pretzel too, didn’t he? Darn her appreciation for bread. And—was that a fireplace? Where the hell did he get a fireplace?

She sucked a breath in through her nose, fighting to ease the twitching to her lip and the racing of her heart and the quivering in her legs. Upon closer inspection the fire was only a setting on a tv screen propped up on the floor. Okay, that was good. Why he didn’t just use the one hanging off the wall she didn’t dare ask. Like with Carlos, sometimes it was better to not ask questions.

James removed the rose from his mouth, his smile not budging an inch. “I was just thinking, since we’re both here, and we’re both single, and it’s Valentine’s Day, how about you and me”—he gestured to the space between them with the rose; Mickey watched as a petal fell off and fluttered to the ground—“spend the day together. We could even make-out—ow, thorn.”

Oh, dear god. She had a feeling God wouldn’t help her if he came up with this form of torture for her to walk into. But it was enough for her to grab her wits—not that his deepening voice shook them loose or anything—and look him in the eye. Away from his smile. He had a nice smile; she could admit that. Okay, it was a great smile. But that wasn’t the point!

“No thank you,” she said shortly, managing to find her voice after swallowing the lump of panic rising in her throat. “This…” she gestured to the scene in front of her, “this was nice but…no. No thank you.” Turning to the door, she jumped when she spotted James blocking her path. What the…? A glance over her shoulder showed an empty blanket. Facing him, she jerked her thumb over her shoulder and asked, “How did you do that?”

James ignored her question. “Maybe we can go see a movie instead. They’re replaying Kiss and Tell.”

She didn’t know which was worse: his suggestion or her traitorous mind considering it for a second. A fleeting second, it shot out of her brain faster than it came in, but it existed. And that was enough for her to shut it down, banish it away and keep a tighter hold on herself. In fact, she wrapped her arms around herself, as if she needed to hold herself back from doing something she couldn’t take back, something ridiculously stupid. Because she knew what he implied with that suggestion; the switch from his frank sharing of his intentions to a covert suggestion nearly knocked her off kilter. She really needed to get a grip.

“No thank you,” she repeated, firming up the three words. She moved to walk around him when he took a large step to the left, blocking her path. She took a step to her left and he mirrored her, still standing in her way. She allowed a smile through, remembering he did the same when they first met nearly a year ago. Some things changed, including the cut of his long shaggy hair (thankfully!), and some things stayed the same.

“What else do you have to do today?” The roll of his shoulders, the shove of his hands into his pockets, and the relaxed ease as he offered up the question, as if he knew the answer, rankled her.

Shifting her grip, she crossed her arms and lifted her chin. “Stuff.”

He squinted. “What kind of stuff?”

“Important stuff. It’s…” she stretched out the last letter, sounding much like a hissing snake as she quickly thought. “It’s my hair day.”

“Your hair day is usually the third Sunday of the month. It’s only the second.”

Shit. She should have known he’d know that. He was the only other person outside her family who had dedicated hair days and she may have asked his opinion on scalp detox treatments once or twice. “I need the extra work. My locs are dry.”

“I can help.”

Help by touching her hair? Help by erasing any sort of space between them? Help by being close enough for her to spell the warm ‘Cuda man spray clinging to his neck? (They’d changed something in the formula, so he didn’t swell up into a hive monster anymore.) No. Nope. Bad idea. Her eyes darted to the oven nearby, displaying the time, and her pulse thudded at the time. 12:30? Crap, crap crap!

“Again, no thank you. I just want to be alone. Oh, is that the time? I have to go!” Finally, she managed to get around him and made a quick beeline for the door.

James followed her. “Who wants to be alone on Valentine’s Day?”

“I do.” She had to get out. She had to leave now. Good thing they never locked their door, she could make a quick exit. Just had to open the door and make her escape and get to the bus and—shove her face into the fronds of an aloe plant. She lifted her brown eyes, zeroing in on the name stitched into the navy shirt: Busy Bee Florist.

Oh nooooooo.

“What’s up? I gotta delivery for’a James Diamond.” The deliveryman’s strong Brooklyn accent threw Mickey for a loop. Yes, that was the reason she still stood in the doorway, gaping at him, rather than making her escape. She may as well have closed the door in her own face. Escape was futile.

“I’m James Diamond.” Out the corner of her eye, Mickey saw James point to himself. She needed to move, she needed to leave, but weights in her legs kept her rooted to the spot despite the alarm bells going off in her mind.

“Sign ‘ere.” The deliveryman shoved the plant into Mickey’s hands and removed the clipboard from beneath his arm. James quickly scrawled his signature at the bottom of the paper and handed the clipboard back. The deliveryman lifted his cap in a halfhearted gesture grumbled, “Have a bee-utiful day”, and walked away.

Humming, James closed the door, pinching the sleeve of Mickey’s white and navy stripped shirt to tug her out the way. With puckered eyebrows he took the plant out of her hands, turning the cream-colored base side to side, studying the long blades of the plant. “Oooh! What’s this?” Eyes settling on the white card wedged between a few blades, he set the plant down on the dinner table and plucked it. With a twist of his wrist, he turned the card around, eyes scanning the line of text on it.

Mickey took the chance to tiptoe towards the door. She knew exactly how long it would take him to read the short note written on the cardstock. She knew exactly how long it would take him to read it again. And if she moved fast enough, she could be out the door and safe and be back at her apartment cuddled up with her ferret and he’d be none the wiser and she’d be safe.

James’s hoot of excitement dashed her hopes when he raced over to her, grasped her shoulders, and shook her, sending her blue and black locks shooting forward and back. “Do you know what this is?” She didn’t get a chance to get a word out when he continued speaking, “It’s a secret admirer note! I have a secret admirer!” She stumbled away when he let her go, grasping onto the dinner table to keep from falling over as her world tilted and swirled. Blinking a few times, she waited for her eyes to stop rolling and her legs to keep her firmly planted on the ground. Only when she righted herself did she notice the smirk curling on James’s lips and the sparkle shinning in his hazel eyes. “Well, I wonder who the lucky lady is getting a first-class seat on Air Diamond. Destination: love!”

…Huh. Mickey pressed her lips together, straining to keep away the curl of…something she didn’t want to name which fought to appear on her face. Not only ten minutes ago he tried to put the moves on her and now he was up and ready to find some other girl? Then what was the whole point? Something stirred in her stomach, a sour bubbling led to a crackling beneath her skin. A livewire, making her fingers twitch against the table.

“—Okay, let’s go!”

Crap. She hadn’t been listening to him. She looked up at him from behind her curtain of hair. “Go where?”

“My secret admirer is out in the Palm Woods somewhere and you’re gonna help me find her.”

Her breath knocked out of her all at once when his words landed on her. No, no, no! He wasn’t supposed to do that! He wasn’t supposed to try and trail it back to the sender. The note was anonymous for a reason! Wasn’t that the whole point of a secret admirer? The idea stoked her panic and had her uttering in a pitchy squeak, “What!? Me!? Why me?”

“Because you’re a girl and you can send out your girl signals to help me figure out who it is.” He wiggled his fingers in her direction as he spoke.

She stared at him, an eye slowly closing to a squint as his words registered. “…Girls aren’t bats! We don’t have some sort of…girl…echolocation radar!” Make him change his mind, get him off the trail, do something!

“Maybe not. But you can’t say no to this smile.” James pointed at his face, as if she somehow forgot what his smile looked like when his lips pulled back to let the dazzle shine through.

She swore she heard a record scratch sound off in her head. And she stared. She didn’t plan to, she didn’t want to, but it just…happened. The staring. When he smiled at her like that, it was if her brain went to mush and needed time to power down and process that a smile like that was directed at her. And the worst part? He knew how to work it and get her flimsy resolve to crack. It scattered at her feet, useless. “…Godammit.”

If possible, James’s smile shined brighter. The boy could light up all of Vegas with the wattage powering him. Mickey looked away, or else she’d do something she’d regret to wipe away that self-satisfied look in his eye.

The smug jerk.

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

Okay, okay, don’t panic Mickey, don’t panic! It’s just…a matter of putting everything into perspective. You sent James a plant. Just a plant. People send people plants all the time. No big deal. Okay, so there was a note too, but it was just a note. A nice note. Just something you’ve been thinking. People share thoughts all the time! It’s not a big deal! …But now he’s dragged you around the Palm Woods because he wants to find whoever sent him the plant. Because of course he wasn’t going to let it go, you big time dumbass! You could probably tell him that you sent it and end this…but then he’d probably blow that out of proportion and—

“Okay! Do you remember the plan?” James popped out from behind the line of bushes around the Palm Woods pool, a tree hat sitting comfortably on his head.

Lifting herself up next to him, Mickey spat out a few leaves coating her tongue and brushed away the few sticking to her hair. “Is the hat really necessary?”

“Yes! All of our good plans involve tree hats!” Mickey’s mouth turned to the side. Since when have their plans turned out well? Or could be called good? The boys somehow manage to turn doing nothing into complete chaos and James thinks their plans work? The boy really did float along on a cloud of his own ego. “By the way, I got you one too.” James pulled a hat from seemingly out of nowhere.

Mickey frowned at it. “You know I can’t wear it. Hats don’t fit over my hair.”

“Oh, I thought about that. I got it a size bigger. And!” He flipped it over, pointing at the interior. “I custom ordered it. The inside is lined with satin so it won’t pull on or damage your hair.”

Stunned, it took a second for her to reach out and take the hat, carefully placing it over her hair and, whaddya know, it fit perfectly. “Thanks James,” she said with a soft smile.

His shoulders bounced in a jaunty shrug. “No problem.” Then he reached out, wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and drew her into his side. A strangled sound rumbled in her chest and a flush darkened her cheeks, the one squished against his pec. Electricity shot down her arm, right beneath his soft grip, but that was nothing to worry about. Just a static shock. “Now remember: you go over to the Jennifers, strike up a conversation, and then I’ll slip in and close the deal.”

“Yeah, but James, this is the seventh girl you’ve tried.” Mickey lifted her hand and started counting on her fingers. “You’ve already called that Annie girl who you thought was a mermaid, you called Heather Fox, you texted Mercedes—”

“How could she not want this”—he gestured wildly to his face—“as one of her potential boyfriends? How could she not pick me? Huh? How?”

“—then there was that Muffy girl who you say tried to kill you—”

“Yes, but that was only when I was a vampire,” James supplied.

Mickey studied his face, trying to find any hint of jest only to come up empty. Anyway! “After that you tried some Penny Lane girl who you say was a spy.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “You just tried with Sunblock Girl—”

“Yeah, that still stings,” James mumbled, rubbing at a slightly reddened eye. “She has good aim with that sunscreen.”

“—and then there was that contest winner. Tiffany? Or Jeanette? …Which one did you end up calling anyway?”

James made a face. “I don’t know. Tiffnette?”

Mickey slapped her palm against her face and pulled her features down. This boy. “I’m just saying, you’re zero for seven. Why don’t you quit while you’re behind? Isn’t the secret admirer part supposed to be kept a secret?”

James swung his head around to face her, his bottom lip pulled up into an angry pout. “If I wanted someone to make things make sense, I would’ve brought Logan with me.”

“Logan’s on a double with Carlos.”

“I know!” he all but shouted, eyes blazing, “Don’t remind me! Everyone else gets to be so happy! When’s it gonna be my turn, hmm? Don’t I deserve to be happy too? It’s not like pretty people don’t have problems!” Mickey bit the inside of her cheek. She wasn’t going to touch that. “And right now, my problem is that I’m not dating a Jennifer. Now get over there and help me.”

“Which one do you want me to ask?”

“Yes!” He pushed at her shoulder and she stumbled sideways, catching her balance before eating it on the cement around the pool. Grumbling, she yanked off her tree hat and tossed it over to James.

Curling and uncurling her fingers, Mickey counted every step she took as she got closer to the Jennifers. They sat around their table by the cabanas as always, drinking identical pink smoothies, scripts held up to their faces. Mickey blew out a breath through her pursed lips. It wasn’t that she and the Jennifers didn’t get along, they were nice…enough. She liked Jennifer 3, sometimes they talked about hair treatments or what skincare products to use for dark marks. But it was hard to get her away from the other Jennifers so their conversations were few.

In unison they arched their brows, lowered their scripts, and removed their large, round sunglasses from their faces. Mickey’s attempt at a smile stalled halfway beneath their perfect, poreless, pristine auras. They sat cast in a golden outline, as if a permanent spotlight illuminated them. And there she stood by comparison, rusted silver, barely. It’s no wonder James insisted it had to be one of them.

“Hey guys,” Mickey greeted them, shoved her curled hands into her pockets. She rocked back and forth on her heels and used her chin to point towards the bound pages on the table. “New scripts?”

“We have an audition coming up for Savannah Louisiana: normal girl by day, singing spy by night,” Jennifer 1 explained, her lips curling in a pleased smile.

“Yeah, but why are you studying them today? I figured you’d have some sort of date or something. It is Valentine’s Day.”

“We need to give the boys of the Palm Woods time to think they have a chance with us,” Jennifer 2 said. With a sweep of her arm, she motioned to the piles, buckets, and of flowers, teddy bears, and wrapped gifts surrounding them. An easel nearby held looked like a large poster of the three Jennifers but was really, upon closer inspection, made out of M&Ms in varying colors.

Mickey let out a low whistle at the sight of it. Talk about dedication. “…Don’t know how I missed that,” she mumbled. Out the corner of her eye she spotted James removing his tree hat and whipping out a handheld mirror to check his hair. He winked at his reflection and cocked a finger gun. A flash of irritation coursed through her. “So…you have a lot of admirers.”

“Of course we do,” Jennifer 3 said, shoving her sunglasses into her hair. She spoke as if the notion was obvious. Which it probably was for them. They probably got mountains of cards and gifts back in school, being the envy of the hallways. Mickey knew that type well; her sister Sammi was one of them.

“Did you give any out?”

The three girls shared a look and burst out laughing. Mickey tugged at her hair again, fighting off the familiar unsettling pooling in the pit of her stomach at their laughter for asking such a question. “We don’t give out admirer notes. We just get them,” Jennifer 2 corrected, a slight sneer curling her lip and wrinkling her nose. “We have a reputation to uphold. We’re not desperate.”

She ignored the sting of their unintentional dig, spotting James walking towards the Jennifers with an odd pattern to his steps. As if he listened to bouncy disco music only he could hear. Oh no, oh no, oh no! Clearing her throat, Mickey lifted her voice, eyes darting back and forth between the Jennifers and James, “So…you’ve never sent out admirer gifts to anyone? Ever? Not even today?” James continued his approach. Geeze, how could he not hear her? Even the Jennifers caught onto the stilted wave of her questioning.

“No,” Jennifer 3 replied, eyes squinting. “And even if we did we wouldn’t wait until the last minute.”

“Besides, we have dates with the Owens Brothers tonight. They’re taking us to Nobu,” Jennifer 2 added, rolling back her shoulders.

Mickey’s head tilted to the side. “Weren’t they just cast in Savannah Louisiana?”

Jennifer 1 smirked. “Yep.”

“Ladies,” James trilled, sliding into view. Their faces remained unimpressed. “Don’t you look beautiful today. You know I really admire how you get your hair so shiny. I can even see myself in it. And I look good.” Mickey elbowed him in the side when he reached up to fix his hair and hit him with a hard stare. Just get this over with, please! “Right! Yeah, so, anyway, speaking of Valentine’s, I’m going to offer one of you ladies the chance to ride on Air Diamond, non-stop express to Love Island.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out the note. Mickey lifted her thumb to her mouth, raking her teeth against the edge, taking great interest in Buddha Bob powering up his hedge clippers. “By the way, thanks for the plant and the note. Maybe we can break out the aloe and pamper each other.” Mickey put her hand up to her face, hiding the way her mouth twisted.

“We didn’t send you a secret admirer note, James,” Jennifer 2 told him in bored tones.

“What?” James’s face immediately fell. “You didn’t?”

“Of course not!” Jennifer 1 said with a scoff.

“You heard her, it’s not them, let’s go!” Mickey heard how shrill her voice had become around her thumb, but she didn’t care. She grasped his arm to move him; he didn’t budge, save for the muscle bulging beneath her hand. She snatched her hand away as if it were on fire, much like her face.

Frowning, James looked over the card again. “Well, if you didn’t, who did?”

Don’t look at me, don’t look at me, don’t look at me! Mickey bit her thumbnail so hard it popped and cracked between her teeth. Jennifer 3’s eyes slid over to her, her eyebrows lifting. Mickey’s eyes widened and she turned her head a couple inches to the left and then to the right. An amused expression passed through Jennifer 3’s face only to be replaced with a mask of indifference in the blink of an eye.

“Do we look like we care?” Jennifer 2 asked. “Now move, you’re blocking the views of the envious girls who wish they were us.” She waved her hand in a shooing gesture, putting her sunglasses back on. Jennifer 1 and Jennifer 3 mimicked her gesture.

“See? They didn’t send it. You’ve tried every girl at the Palm Woods. Now can we go?” Mickey turned to leave, stopping only when James grabbed her by the crook of her elbow.

“Yeah, every girl at the Palm Woods,” James repeated. Lifting his finger, he continued, “We haven’t tried the Palm Woods Park yet.”

The alarm bells returning, clanging louder than before. “I don’t want to go to the park. I want the ice cream that’s waiting for me.”

“I’ll buy you some. Cookie dough’s your favorite, right?”

“Right, but—”

“Do you dare try to stop me on my love quest?” he demanded, pointing a finger in her face. Her eyes crossed trying to keep his finger in focus. Geeze, how was she supposed to answer that and not sound like a jerk? …Then again, that was probably the point. “Let’s go!” She watched James’s retreating back as he marched around the pool, heading for the exit.

Mickey slowly turned to the Jennifer’s. Her eyes flickered across their faces, shoulders sagging. “…Who told you?” she slowly asked.

“Carlos,” they replied in unison, smirking all the while.

Mickey’s head lolled back as she groaned. “Should’ve known.” He couldn’t keep a secret to save his life. And it wasn’t that she wanted to tell him in the first place, he wore her down with his questioning when she called to ask, hypothetically, what kind of flowers the guys would want if they were to get them. It was a gamble asking him, she knew, but they were buds and she’d get a straight answer from him regarding James. She took too big a risk and had to tell him something to keep him from talking. Bribing him with four vouchers to whale watch clearly only worked for so long (Aunt Kelly got showered with gifts from potential clients trying to sway her into making an offer all the time).

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Jennifer 2 said, “it’s cute that you’re trying to shoot so far out of your league.”

Mickey didn’t have time to address those wounding words; realization landed with a heavy thud, dragging her attention with it: if the Jennifers knew…who else knew?

-------

“—And now, and now, he’s dragged me up and down and all around accosting some poor innocent girls trying to find his secret admirer and I don’t think he’s gonna quit!” Mickey paused her ranting to shove another spoonful of tiramisu into her mouth. She chewed the beignet piece, swallowed, and continued, “See, see, it’s this…this stupid holiday. It makes everyone go crazy. Hallmark just haaad to go and make people read into everything and think that this one day was super important and everyone had to go and choke one each other’s love fumes. What ever happened to people wanting to be nice to other people? I don’t need one day to do that. Okay, maybe I could’ve picked a better day to send the dang plant, but I wasn’t supposed to be there when he got it! And who said Valentine’s Day is all about relationships anyway? It’s for friends too! James is my friend. I, as a friend, was trying to cheer a friend up! You’ve seen how Uncle Gustavo has been on him lately!” Jazz and Kendall stared at Mickey, taking long drags of the sparkling cider bubbling in their glasses. Mickey glared at them. “Are either of you going to say something?”

The two glanced at each other and simultaneously removed the straws from their mouths and leaned forward to set their glasses down on the red and black picnic blanket. Kendall leaned back on his palms, crossing one ankle over the other, and gave her a hard look. Jazz, instead, chuckled and shook her head. “I only have five words for you.” She held up a fist and extended a finger with each word. “I. Told. You. So.”

Mickey’s nose wrinkled. “That’s four words.”

Jazz leaned forward and smacked her open palm against Mickey’s forehead. “Dumbass!” Smiling sweetly beneath Mickey’s glare she added, “That’s five,” and popped a salmon-topped crostini into her mouth.

“Why don’t you just tell James you sent him the plant?” Kendall asked.

“Why do people keep asking me that?” Mickey said through gritted teeth. Because it’s the obvious solution, dummy, her thoughts screamed back at her; she shoved it aside. “You know James better than I do,” she said, jabbing a spoon in his direction. “You know what he’s like. If he’s this rabid just trying to find his secret admirer, he’ll be worse if he found I sent it to him. Because then he’ll want to know why I sent it to him and then I’ll have to say—”

“That you like him?” Jazz offered. She held up her hands when Mickey brandished the spoon in her direction. “I’m just sayin’.”

Mickey dug the spoon back into the glass of tiramisu, the utensil clanged against the side of the glass. It sounded so simple coming out of her mouth but it just…wasn’t. She wasn’t even sure what name to put on her feelings for James. They were positive, mostly. She could admit that. He was funny and fun and sweet and loyal and supportive. But then his ego swelled and all that got eclipsed by his narcissistic, shallow, and self-centered tendencies. Though that wasn’t what made her pay attention to him in the first place, his advances aside.

No, it was that look in his eye when he hit a particularly difficult note with ease. That satisfied smile on his face when he completed a dance sequence with moves so sure it was like he floated on the music. It was the drive powering him through recording sessions, take after take after take, even though he nailed it back on the third because it wasn’t up to his standards and his level of perfection. It was the pride burning through his chest and the passion shining in his smile when he wrote and composed a song, pouring his heart into the process. It was the ease of which he laid out his vulnerabilities and didn’t apologize for it or for his existence.

But he made it complicated. Baseline, she did like James. She liked all the guys of Big Time Rush, even if they came with a hurricane of chaos. But liking James and liking James were two different things and it was much easier to face one than the other. That’s what the aloe plant was for, to say what she couldn’t and didn’t want to face. She could give away any sort of feelings she had for him with the plant and didn’t have to look at it ever again.

Besides, it wasn’t like James was serious with his come-ons. The advances were just to bide his time; she knew that; it was how he worked. He bounced around from girl to girl like a bee searching for pollen. And she was just one flower in a field, a baby’s breath next to a rose. No, this was much easier.

Well, as easy as things could be when she spent all afternoon hovering around girls sitting in the lobby waiting for a thumbs up or a thumbs down, pretending to get candy from the vending machine to scope out potential suspects, and sitting by the elevator with a hockey stick waiting to trip up any guy who could get in the way of James and his “destiny” with guilt rolling a bigger rock in her stomach as time went on.

See, this is why she hated Valentine’s Day.

“And why an aloe plant?” Kendall asked.

Mickey dragged the spoon around the remnants of the empty dessert flute, licked the chocolate ganache off the scoop, and set the glass aside, wiping her mouth off with the back of her hand. “Because you can cut open an aloe plant and use the extract to heal scrapes, treat burns, and for basic skin care. Plus, if you want, you can add it to your smoothies for an extra boost of Vitamin C or for an aid in digestive health,” Mickey replied.

“So, it’s perfect for James.” Kendall nodded. “You must really like him.” Kendall laughed when Mickey swatted at him.

“Thanks for keeping it a secret, sis,” Mickey said, turning to Jazz.

“Hey, I don’t keep secrets from Kendall. Especially not about this,” Jazz said.

“Why is this the exception?”

Jazz smirked. “Because this is fun for me.” She took another long sip of cider, turning her eyes skywards. Mickey made a mental note to look into getting a rubber snake for their next birthday. See how Jazz liked that bit of fun. When Jazz reached for the plate holding the pie piece, Mickey snatched it away from her. “Dude,” Jazz uttered.

“No pie for you!” Mickey made a show of stabbing the pie piece with a fork and shoving the broken section off in her mouth. Dang, she was good. She mentally patted herself on the back for having the foresight to leave an entire other pie in the fridge back at Aunt Kelly’s apartment.

“You can share mine,” Kendall said, offering Jazz his plate.

“Don’t be mad at me because you’re too much of a chicken shit to tell James,” Jazz said, sticking out her tongue.

Mickey scoffed. “Easy for you to say! You and Kendall have been dating basically since you met each other!” The thing was, at the time, Jazz and Kendall didn’t realize they were dating. But what else could it be called when they spent nearly every day for the past year texting, facetiming, and emailing each other when they were apart and then going to the movies, going skateboarding, scheming, playing guitar at the recording studio, and going for walks when they were together? If you wanted one, you’d find the other. By the time they jointly announced they were dating, it was more of the sake of convenience than a need. None of them—Mickey, her sisters, and the rest of the boys of Big Time Rush—batted an eyelash about it. As far as they could see, it was inevitable.

“Look, James is my bud,” Kendall said, “And I want him to be happy. And I think you two overdramatic weirdos could be happy together.”

Mickey scoffed, not bothering to hide the offense on her face. “I’m not overdramatic.”

Kendall’s eyebrows rose. “Oh really?” He reached out and smacked the pie plate out of her hands.

“My pie!” Mickey screeched, watching in dismay as it landed upside-down on the grass. “You monster!” Kendall pressed his lips together, giving her a pointed stare with his green eyes. “There is no such thing as being overdramatic about food,” she grumbled, crossing her arms.

“Mickey, why is it so bad for James to know how you feel?” Jazz asked.

Mickey pulled at a few blades of grass, twisting her mouth to the side. Sheesh, where could she start with that?

“Well, it’s not Katie,” James announced, dropping onto the blanket next to Mickey. Three pairs of eyes swiveled in his direction as he rocked from side to side, grasping two small cups of ice cream. “She even laughed in my face, which was kind of rude.” Speaking out the side of his mouth, in a stage whisper, he added, “I think she’s in denial.” With a little laugh, he shrugged his shoulders and held out a cup for Mickey.

“No luck then?” Kendall asked. Mickey squinted at him. He stared back innocently. She didn’t buy it. He was a planner for a reason. What was he up to? The nudge of James’s elbow to her side broke her stare. She accepted the cup with a fleeting smile and dug into the ice cream for a large chunk of cookie dough near the surface.

“No. She’s really hiding. And I don’t get why. I mean why spend the day alone when you could spend the day with this?” Using his spoon, James gestured to his body, from crossed legs, up his torso, and in circles around his face. His head jerked back in a recoil as a bit of ice cream flew off the spoon and landed brushing ice cream against his nose. Mickey chuckled at the sight, reaching out to brush it off his nose. James in turn flashed an appreciative smile. She caught Jazz’s eye and dropped her hand to her lap.

“Well, it can’t be hard to trace the delivery back to the sender,” Kendall said nonchalantly.

A spike of fear shot down her spine. What? Mickey shoved her spoon too far in her mouth, scraping the back of her throat. A series of coughs made her double over, reddening her face, bringing tears to her eyes. Jazz and Kendall, the traitorous traitors, merely stared at her. If Mickey looked hard enough, she’d be able to see identical devil horns on their heads. James at least had the decency to rub circles between her shoulder blades. Not that his attention could be delayed from his love quest for too long.

“Keep talking,” James said.

“No, James, we should…we should get going,” Mickey said, pushing his arm. Her voice now took on a slight rasp. “We’re interrupting their date.”

“I mean call the place,” Kendall hurried, a sparkle in his eye. “Ask for the person who delivered the flowers and get a name from them.”

“Or at least get the name of the person who paid for it,” Jazz added.

“Isn’t there some sort of privacy in place?” Mickey asked, silently sending them mental waves to shut up! “You know, for nosy busybodies?”

“Not if they have a kid who just so happens to like Big Time Rush and wouldn’t mind getting free tickets to our next concert,” Kendall said with a simple shrug of his shoulders.

“Jazz, your boyfriend’s trying to sell his soul,” Mickey tattled, jabbing her finger in Kendall’s direction.

Jazz made a meh sound. “As long as the outside of him stays the same I don’t think I’d notice a difference.”

“Nice,” Kendall muttered. His brief frown turned into a smile when Jazz leaned over and kissed his cheek.

James dug into his pocket, removing his phone with bright eyes. Mickey’s eyes darted around, searching for any sort of escape from the gnawing hole in her stomach. Do something, do something, do something! Lunging forward, Mickey grabbed James’s phone, drew back her arm, and threw it. Silence settled over the group like a thick, heavy, wool blanket. Calmly, Mickey scooped another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. Only when she swallowed did she look at their bewildered expressions and said, “Spasm. Sorry.” Then she sat up straight. “Oh look! There’s Jo!” Internally she cringed at foisting James off onto one of her friends but, well, desperate times, desperate measures. He scurried away in the blink of an eye and Mickey repeatedly hit her forehead with her fist.

“You know what I think?” Jazz asked.

“That I’m in Hell?” Mickey replied, her dull words directed down towards her lap.

Jazz snorted. “No, but you deserve however this ends.”

Mickey peeked up at them from beneath her lashes. “How’s the air up on your high horse?”

Kendall and Jazz grinned. “Sweet.”

--------

“I’m not your secret admirer,” Lucy said the minute she opened her apartment door. Looking up at James, she crossed her arms and quirked an eyebrow, effectively killing the expectant smile on his face in one shot.

“How’d you know that’s what I was gonna ask you?” he asked.

Rolling her eyes, Lucy said, “Because it’s all over the Palm Woods that you’re asking every girl if they’re your secret admirer. Honestly, I don’t blame them for keeping it a secret. You’re getting a little intense.” Lucy was going to get a fruit basket, Mickey decided. The swell of pride growing within her for having such a sensible friend ebbed away as fast as it came when Lucy’s eyes shifted over to her. “And why’re you helping him?” Lucy continued, pointing a finger in James’s direction.

“…I have girl radar or something,” Mickey replied, cringing at the rasp still affixed to her words. It was a lot easier to verbalize that than her spine being as soft as Jell-O.

Lucy blinked and shook her head. “Okay, even if that were a thing, that doesn’t make sense.”

“You know I don’t make sense,” James said. “Besides, love doesn’t have to make sense. I just want a Valentine. Why is that so bad?”

“You can’t coerce people into being what you want just because you want it,” Lucy said.

“…If I knew what that word meant I’d say ‘yes I can’!”

“You realize you’re encouraging this right?” Lucy asked Mickey.

She nearly laughed aloud. Maybe Lucy was right on paper but the lengths she’d gone through the whole day would say otherwise. Aside from throwing his phone any time he got it out, she nearly had to tackle James to keep him away from Logan, Camille, Carlos, and Stephanie when they crossed paths in the lobby (of which she then had to dodge another make-out offer as she got off him), she got a nasty shock to her foot kicking out the plug to the computers, and nearly blew herself into the pool with Bhudda Bob’s industrial leaf blower in her attempts to blow James away from Sandy and Mandy Simms (honestly that was for his own good. He wasn’t going to address them by the right names, and she knows firsthand how annoying that was).

Instead, Mickey mumbled. “Trust me, his one-track mind doesn’t need any of my help,”

“Yeah!” James nodded.

“So, you don’t find it odd you haven’t had any luck finding this girl?” Lucy asked. “Assuming it’s a girl.”

“It’s a girl!” James insisted, his voice tightening.

“Fine.” Lucy leaned against the doorway, eyes shifting between the two. “Still. It has to be someone around here, right?”

“Lucy,” Mickey all but growled through clenched teeth.

Lucy ignored her. “I don’t know why they’d want to be shy about it. I mean, you are James Diamond of Big Time Rush, after all.” Out the corner of her eye Mickey spotted James standing up straighter, propped up by her words. “Then again, girls know not to step on another girl’s territory…”

Mickey wanted her fruit basket back.

“What do you mean?” James asked.

“I mean you’ve been hanging out with Mickey all day, right? Girls might think she’s called dibs on you. Give them more of a reason to stay anonymous.” Mickey strained hard to keep her head facing forward, the expression on her face neutral beneath James’s penetrating gaze. She tucked her shakings hands into the crooks of her arms and evened out her breathing. And Lucy, all the while, held the tight-lipped smile of someone guarding a laugh. Waving her hand, Lucy stood straight, “But I could be wrong. What do I know? I don’t have a Valentine”—James moved to open his mouth—“not that I’m looking for one! You’re already taken.”

“There’s plenty of me to go around,” James insisted.

“I’m not into sharing.” Snickering, Lucy grasped her door and moved to close it. “Well, have fun on your little date.”

Mickey’s relieved sigh of “Thanks” quickly shifted over to her indignant shout of, “Wait, no! This isn’t a date!” Her words bounced harmlessly off Lucy’s closed door.

“Whatever!” Lucy called from the other side.

Pulling her lips inwards, Mickey slowly turned, steeling herself for…something. A suggestive comment, a flirty smile, swagger pouring out of his, well, pores. Not…this. The rounding of his shoulders, balancing an invisible weight, the shadow blanketing the sparkle in his eyes, the sharp rise and fall of his chest rather than the steady sureness and puffed preening. Releasing her lips, they fell into a soft frown. “James?” She reached out, her fingers grazing his arm. His head snapped up, eyes settling on her face, and with a blink of his (unfairly!) long lashes, the light returned to his eyes.

“Hey, no, I’m good. Let’s take a break. I'm getting hungry.”

She didn’t bother to point out he’d already eaten ice cream, because eating sounded like a good idea. She needed food. She needed to stop the gnawing in her stomach in ways only food could satiate. The hole opened, allowing more room for guilt and shame around the pie and tiramisu and ice cream she’d already consumed. Better to eat something else before the black hole ate her. At least that way, if she was full, there was no room for anything else.

-------

It wasn’t that she didn’t want the sandwich James prepared. He even remembered not to put mayonnaise on hers; not even the guys at Subway could manage that. (Okay, so she kind of mumbled when she had to place orders so it was easy to confuse ‘tomato’ for ‘mayo’ and she could have corrected them but that was more trouble than it was worth.) Despite the clawing deep in the pit of her stomach she couldn’t make herself eat, not with the waves of despair rolling off James, threatening to drown her. He kept his smile, but it was tight lipped, half-blown, wrong.

He leaned against the refrigerator, one leg crossed over the other at the ankle, shoulders pressing against the glass, holding his weight up, taking steady sips from a juice box. One arm wrapped tight around his torso, as if trying to hug himself.

Mickey picked at the sandwich, tearing little bits of bread and turkey breast and lettuce only to smoosh it into little spheres, littering her plate. James left his untouched.

“Is there something wrong with me?” James had lifted his mouth from the straw; the red from the juice darkened them. He wiped his mouth with the back of his palm, he set the juice box down. “I mean, there can’t be much wrong with me, right?”

“Uhhhh….” Mickey flicked a few of the sandwich spheres around her plate.

“I just don’t get it,” James continued as if she didn’t say anything, as if she weren’t in the room. “Why is it so easy for everyone else? I mean, Kendall. Right? We move here and right away Kendall gets Jo. And then Logan gets Camille…” He held his hand in the air and waved it side to side. “Kind of. And then Carlos has his thing with Stephanie. And then Kendall and Jo break up. But then we meet you guys and, well, you know Kendall and Jazz.” James drummed his fingers against the cardboard on the juice box. “…Kendall has it all. You know? The family, the friends, the girl.” Mickey zeroed in on that one word. Girl. Not girls. “And he didn’t even try for it. Not really. It falls into his lap.” The gnawing in her stomach grew though she couldn’t bring herself to eat anything, no matter how hard it screamed for food. A lump rose in her throat; she curled her trembling fingers into her palms. “Yeah, maybe I’ve been with girls. But lately I see Logan and Carlos and Kendall and they’re with girls. And I want that, I guess. And then this plant came…” Setting aside the juice box, he shifted and leaned forward, resting his elbows against the breakfast bar Mickey sat at, peering at the aloe plant. The minute he reentered 2J he picked it up and turned it around and around in his hands, as if searching for some sort of hidden compartment on it and discarded it as if it had personally offended him. Now he stared at it so hard she swore it’d eventually catch fire. “I thought maybe this was my chance for…something. I mean, my parents didn’t care much about spending time with me until I got out here. And even then, I don’t see my mom much. She doesn’t ask about all this.” He spun his finger in the air, encircling the room. His cheeks squished when he propped them up on his fists. Mickey’s leg bounced against the footrest of the bar stool. And even as her body tensed, begging her to run, she sat, enthralled, in a sick game of chicken. “Maybe it was a joke. Or I’m the joke, for thinking…” Silence ticked by, each pulse pounding Mickey over the head: say something do it, do it now, talk!

Her lips trembled, whether from the onslaught of his words, the ease and content of laying himself bare without a second thought, or the pressure rising within her chest. Lowering her head, she dug her fingers into her hair, curling them around the shafts, tugging hard. The pain was a brief relief, sharp and pointed; something to focus on than her whirling thoughts. Except for one, niggling at the back of her mind, roaring louder until she pinpointed Jazz’s voice:

Why is it so bad for James to know how you feel?

It wasn’t that. It was the after. What happens afterwards, what he would do, could do, with the feelings she gave for him on a platter. And she hated it, the not knowing, not having control after the words left her mouth, having to just stand there and open up her chest and hope and pray he’d be delicate.

You don’t know anything about me, she’d always say, a perfect deflection to his inquiries on her constant rebuffs. Shorthand for what she really wanted to say: you don’t care. But he did, he proved it all day: he knew her hair schedule, he knew her hair was important enough to her to get her a cap she could wear, he knew her favorite ice cream choice, he knew her sandwich preferences, he put aside his goal to check on her well-being, he prepared her favorite snacks when he knew she’d be alone. Even if it came with a string attached, he thought about it, thought about her. She rejected it but it didn’t stop him from laying it all out there, from going after what he wanted, from trying again and again and again, diving in with both feet without apologizing for it, without apologizing for feeling and being.

That’s truly why she hated the occasion, Valentine’s Day, because it gave everyone else the courage to be raw, be real, and she couldn’t manage it.

But as she sat there, simmering in James’s admission, wondering how someone like him could think he was a joke for allowing himself to be hopeful, she still admired him. How could she not? He was James Diamond, unapologetically.

“James.” She heard the shake in her voice and made herself remain steady, even as the bounce in her leg increased. He looked at her, face so open. Her heart sighed. “…I sent the plant.”

He didn’t react right away, just stared at her, hazel eyes meeting russet. She clasped her hands, bringing them up to her mouth, biting down on both thumb nails. He blinked, sucked in a breath, and slowly leaned back until he stood tall.

“…You’re my secret admirer.”

Mickey leaned back, dropping her hands into her lap, skin lightening beneath her hard grip. “Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

She let out a little laugh, sheepish and incredulous combined. Because she was a jerk? Because she was an idiot. Because she was scared. All of the above? “Because I was the only person you didn’t ask, dummy!”

James blinked. “Oh.” He looked at the plant, at her, back at the plant, and got the note out of his pocket. His thumbs smoothed out the creased and bent cardstock and then held it out to her. She took it and put it aside; she didn’t need to read it. She had the words memorized; she’d agonized over what to add for days until she came up with the finished product. She didn’t care about that, she cared about now, what he would do now. As his lips parted, ready to speak again, she forced herself to stay put. All instincts told her to run, to hide, she still had time to save herself. She stayed still. “I guess…I didn’t think to ask. I mean, I never thought you’d…admire me.” He said the last part slowly, as if testing the weight of the words on his tongue.

Her shoulders sagged with her accompanying sigh. Okay, that wasn’t too bad. She tugged on the ends of her hair, pulling from mid-length down to the ends, over and over, avoiding his eyes. “James…I-I admire a lot about you. I don’t know how people can’t. I mean you…you have this drive that I’ve never seen in anyone before. And you have so much passion behind it. Even with Gustavo being hard on you lately, you still come back the next day ready to work with this…this fire. I’ve seen you go through so much and the whole time you’re…you’re you. You’re so comfortable being yourself, wholly, fully, and you don’t feel the need to apologize for it. I wish I was like that sometimes.”

“Oh.” He sure liked that word.

Head tilted downwards, she still stroked her hair, but peeked up at him. His eyes had widened and something in his face stilled. Did she say something wrong? God, this was why she didn’t do things like this, didn’t put herself out there. Crap, she messed everything up! The paralyzing hold on her eased, allowing a painful stab to hit her right in chest. She swiveled her hips to the side, turning the stool top, ready to jump down.

“Hold on.” James reached out, hand resting on her shoulder. She stopped, held her breath, and watched with crinkled brows when he walked stiffly to the bathroom and closed the door. What the…? Her eyebrows bunched even further at the flurry of movement on the other side of the door. If she closed her eyes, she could almost see him flailing. The door swung open and James walked back out calmly, cheeks reddened.

Her eyes ping-ponged between him and the bathroom. She was almost afraid to ask. “Did…did you just do a happy dance?”

“What? Me? No! Of course not!” James scoffed, waving his hand in the air, failing at keeping the smile off his flushed face. “Can I give you your gift now?” His words collided in a rushed slur.

She blinked, jarred from the conversation whiplash. Oh. Oh. She thought…And to be sure she glanced over her shoulder where the indoor picnic had been left. “Was that not…?”

“No. I got you something else.” His long fingers gripped the countertop; he practically vibrated.

“Ok…ay.” This…was not what was supposed to happen. Was it?

James scurried off to the bedrooms and Mickey prepared herself for the usual gifts she received on such occasion, a card or oven mitts or an apron with Mickey Mouse decorated all over it because, well, it was obvious. Her name and her hobby in the same, how original! But she’d mastered the pleased smile years ago. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the gifts, clearly the thought was behind it and that’s what counted, but sometimes she wished people didn’t go for something so easy.

When James came back carrying…some white structure, which at first glanced looked like a miniature shelf, she didn’t know what to do with her face. She bet she looked half constipated and half bewildered. How attractive!

“Um…”

“It’s an indoor herb garden,” he supplied, filling in the large blank in her head. She gaped, heart thudding a steady rhythm against her ribcage. “You always said you were upset Kelly’s apartment didn’t have a place for you to grow stuff. Now you can. Look!” He turned the box around and pointed to a list in small print. “It comes with spices too. It has basil, parsley, oregano, rosemary, thyme, and mint.”

A low buzzing sounded in her ears. It took her time to place it, that thrumming content. But when she did it amplified, an electric current running through her, so palpable that when their fingers brushed as she accepted the box, sparks popped at her fingertips. “Thank you.” It was soft and tender; all she could manage while trying to contain herself.

“You’re welcome. I’m glad you like it.”

Like wasn’t the right word but she wasn’t ready for that, nowhere near it. Hugging the box to her chest, she chanced a glance at him. “What happens now?” She hadn’t meant to blurt it out so suddenly, but she had to know. Needed to know. “I’ve never…I mean, this thing…” Words failed her. Instead, she dragged a finger in the space between them.

Luckily, James caught on. “Neither have I,” he admitted. “But I want to try. I like you.”

A buzz thrummed within her at his directness. “I don’t get why considering I’ve been lying to you all day.” In fact, he was strangely…calm about it. Why wasn’t he angry with her?

“Well, yeah, that part kind of stinks,” he admitted, head bobbing from side to side, “but, the way I choose to look at it, you also went along with me all day when you could have left. Figured you have to like me a lot to go through all that trouble.” He paused and then his eyes widened.

Her pulse spiked. “What?”

“I just realized: this whole time, you were trying to keep people away because you want me all to yourself!” The swagger came back when he reached out tapped the tip of her nose; she almost missed it. “Not that I blame you.” Pointing at himself he added, “I wouldn’t want to give this away either.”

James’s beaming smile returned, eyes sparkling as if diamonds nestled within.

A wild sensation hit her at the sight of it: a sort of breathless elation, like climbing to the top of a mountain, being caressed by gentle winds only to sink into the crackling livewire of being so alive.

Mickey’s mouth opened and closed a few times, attempting to make words. Defeated, she pressed her lips together and rolled her eyes, her lips curling up into an unrestrained smile.

--------

“So?”

Mickey lifted her head from the sink; droplets of water rolled down her cheeks and curled beneath her chin. She dapped at her face with the hand towel nearby, set it aside, and turned to see Jazz leaning in the bathroom doorway, grinning from ear to ear. “So what?” she asked.

“You know what.” Her grin grew. “How did things with you and James end up? You didn’t say anything when Kendall and I came back to the apartment and you didn’t say anything on the bus ride back here. I want details. Spill.”

Mickey’s eyes rolled to the ceiling as she mulled it over. Jazz crossed her arms over her Richmond Braves pajama shirt. Mickey’s shoulders shook with suppressed laughter, stopping only when her phone vibrated in the pocket of her lounge pants. Holding up a finger, she removed it only to experience a flutter in her stomach at the sight of James’s name on her screen next to the blinking text icon. With a swipe of her thumb, she opened the text.

James: See you at the studio tomorrow! Mickey: I’ll be the chick with the bass behind ya

“I’ll tell you after Kelly gets back,” Mickey said. At Jazz’s annoyed sigh she added, “Look, I don’t want to tell the story three times.” Reaching over, she flipped off the light to the bathroom and brushed past her, running to jump on her bed. Jazz landed next to her a second later, cuddling a large stuffed teddy bear to her chest. On the other side of the room Sammi and Mel crowded onto Sammi’s bed. Sammi’s fingers deftly twisted through the braids in Mel’s hair, adding new length with the fresh purple extensions. Mel carefully lifted a forkful of strawberry rhubarb pie to her mouth, balancing the plate on her knee. “Besides, I want to know who her super-secret date was.”

“It’s Gustavo. We all know it was Gustavo,” Jazz insisted.

“Yeah right,” Sammi said with a shake of her head; her new clover earrings shook with each turn of her head. “That’ll never happen.”

“It could!”

Mel grabbed a pillow off Sammi’s bed and threw it at Jazz, nailing her in the face. Beneath their laughter, Mickey snuck a look at her phone again. James had texted twice, one with a smiley face and another with a video attachment. She tapped her thumb against the screen. The video pulled up, filling the screen, and in seconds she watched a mirror shot of him dancing and celebrating in the bathroom.

She grinned.

The smug jerk.

#james diamond #mickey mason #mickames #big time rush #big time rush fanfic #big time rush fic #kendall knight #jazz mason #i have no idea how this show went on for four seasons and never did a valentine's day episode #i'm here to fix that to a degree #also james gets some depth because the show didn't want him to be deeper than a puddle and i need to fix that too #big time admirer #my writings #angst tw #social anxiety tw #disordered eating tw #envy tw #self loathing tw

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1-800-i-ship-it · 4 years ago

Note

*All Might voice* I AM HERE! for dad!jinsung and son!bam fluff and content.

I am so paranoid tumblr is gonna delete this and lo and behold it won’t appear on my pc browser as a draft what’d ya know surprise surprise so here we go mobile copy paste it is listen tumblr I’m so done I can see the drafts increase from 42 to 43 but the gosh darned POST DOESNT APPEAR.

Anyways

Hello anon!

Apologies for the super long wait for me answering this :’) In hindsight maybe I should have just answered it with a short answer but since I dragged it out this long, might as well write some headcanons amirite; i have some modern day setting + ToG stuff hope u don’t mind + varying ages of Bam

Modern Day:

Jinsung taking smol bam to a small ice cream stand and just chilling in the park walking around, smol Bam asks Jinsung a lot of questions and Jinsung just kinda doesn’t know what to tell Bam xD

Jinsung taking teen Bam back to school shopping and while doing so buys Bam matching clothes with him (that black dress shirt and khakis yes) and Bam likes to wear it to remind him of his dad when he can’t see him

Jinsung taking care of baby Bam who wakes him up in the middle of the night and leaves him with eyebags all the time but has the cutest baby smile ever that even Jinsung cannot resist it

But other than that Bam is a great baby who rarely misbehaves and is a favorite at FUG gatherings during the holidays which Jinsung is forced to go to sometimes

Jinsung trying to figure out what to say to Bam the first time smol Bam has a boo boo and needs comforting

Jinsung meeting Wangnan at the park once, a random teenager, who offers him lollipops instead of cigarettes and looks pointedly at smol Bam, to which Jinsung reluctantly accepts

The next time Wangnan spots Jinsung and his son at the park again he smiles seeing that Jinsung is chewing on a lollipop instead of smoking

Jinsung’s favorite lollipop flavor is lemon no I do not take criticism (I’m just kidding, I just think he might like it)

I’d imagine Jinsung is some high ranking officer at a big company but hates dealing with paperwork so his assistants always deal with that stuff, and technically isn’t the highest ranking officer but they go to him for problems they don’t know what to do about cause he’s extremely knowledgeable

Has a lot of influence therefore can do almost anything he wants so he has flexible hours in order to take care of smol Bam

When Bam comes home one day saying he has met Khun Jinsung frowns every so slightly for a split second before Bam can see but Jinsung lets it slide...for now because he can see how excited smol Bam is talking about his school day and meeting Khun who gave him a super cool shiny stone; Jinsung notices that it’s suspendium and in his head is like damn, they sure are close

Of course, Jinsung still tells his people to do an extensive background check on Khun AA to make sure he was clean and wasn’t just trying to sabotage his company like the 10 Great Famillies did before

Bam gets older, Khun and Bam are as close as ever and Jinsung realizes that Bam is gay before Bam realizes

Jinsung sits down to have the talk with Bam and dear god poor middle school Bam is just confused and is like, what are you talking about, I only like Khun, I think I love him? But it’s just Khun? Then Jinsung sighs deeply and realizes he’s dug himself a hole and just keeps talking to Bam about being demi and all that, Bam kind of understands but not really, Jinsung kinda gives up at the end but asks some questions about what Khun means to Bam who in turn rambles a bunch and Jinsung is like yup head-over-heels

Fast forward to high school; Khun is Bam’s prom date as “friends” Khun comes to pick Bam up and while Bam dashes upstairs, Jinsung gives Khun The Dad Talk about not hurting Bam and Khun is actualllly kind of intimidated for once, but once Jinsung sees the look in Khun’s eyes he’s like alright this boi also head-over-heels we should be good

Jinsung never cries but he cries at their wedding (just a few tears obviously, the full on crying comes after)

Tower of God universe:

I like to think that Jinsung reminds Bam that he’s there for him and they have silent acknowledgments or agreements with each other about that especially after a tough training day

Bam might not know but Jinsung breaks a lot of rules for him from FUG but he gets away with it bc he’s powerful and also so is Bam

Classic thing that’s like already canon but Jinsung buying clothes for Bam and always beng able to send them to him no matter where he is

Bam has an attachment to the first shirt that Jinsung gave Bam and even though its torn and ripped he keeps it (even tho Khun says not to)

When training with FUG, Jinsung pushes Bam to his limit but never too much, which was sparked by Hwaryun in the beginning telling Jinsung what Bam is really capable of (beginning of Bam growing on Jinsung)

Bam always coughs whenever Jinsung smokes near him so Jinsung makes sure he doesn’t smoke close to Bam

Jinsung sometimes opens up and tells Bam stories about his past to which Bam listens earnestly but also sometimes doesn’t say anything, the pressure FUG putting on him almost breaking him, and sometimes Jinsung will give him a pat on the shoulder, and on really bad days, a hug even though Jinsung feels awkward doing it he knows it helps Bam

Jinsung gives Bam headpats no I will not take criticism

Still does it even when Bam grows almost to his height (I did not check the wiki pls don’t attack me)

Jinsung ends up caring a lot for Bam, and Bam for Jinsung eventually even though he was quite angry and frustrated at first

Bam fills the void in Jinsung’s heart, quenches some of his never-ending thirst for revenge against the 10 great families and jahad and what they have done to him, and Jinsung is kind of like the real parent that Bam never really had with Rachel

Jinsung tells Bam to be happy, and Bam’s just, never really thought about that much; in his mind it was always Rachel as the endgame, but eventually he comes to realize what happiness really means to him, and he’s grateful for Jinsung’s support

Bam gives Jinsung hope, something he thought he would never have ever again, and Jinsung gives Bam the notion of happiness and healthy parenting (i acknowledge it might not have been healthy in the beginning), someone who he can rely on

They both help each other grow and I think that’s beautiful

Aight I might have gone overboard but to be fair I did already warn ya’ll in my blog description that my default is rambling xD anyways anon I hope this answers your ask! So sorry I took legit FOREVER to answer but I hope this lived up to your expectations.

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jae-writes-fanfiction · 4 years ago

Text

Caviar and Cigarettes

Ashton x Reader - Collab Masterlist - 3763 Words - Part 1 of 1

Notes: this was written as part of a collab event as a gift for @mermaidcashton using a mix of their different suggested tropes but specifically ‘waking up in vegas.’ I hope you enjoy it ❤️ also I’ve never been to a casino I’m sorry this is 100% based off of what I know from TV

Warnings: mentions of alcohol/alcohol consumption, people are on a plane which could be scary, light nsfw content, some swearing.

- - -

The overhead compartments creaked as the plane rushed down the runway headed for liftoff. The sensation always sent a shiver down your spine and caused knots to grow in your stomach.

You hated flying and had everyone been back in LA instead of visiting the UK on a press tour, you would’ve opted to drive to Las Vegas from home and meet the boys there. Unfortunately for you, being their one-person PR/Social Media Management team placed you behind the scenes for the entire junket. And now, it placed you in the window seat of a plane preparing to hurtle dangerously through the sky- although your friendship with the bride-to-be was partly at fault.

Next to you, Ashton rolled his eyes as you gripped the armrest tightly. Across the aisle he watched Michael and Crystal giggle at something, and just ahead of them he could see Callum and Luke watching a movie on one of their phones.

He loved his friends and was beyond happy for Michael and Crystal but each of their small smiles and soft looks felt stifling and Ashton found himself wishing things could just be like when they were younger. Everything felt easier then, it was much more fun going on trips, there was less pressure to do or say the right thing or post the right statuses. They were just four friends making music. Now, everything was different including you.

You silenced your phone and offered Ashton a consolatory smile. “I know you’d rather be across the aisle,” you said glancing over at the others, “but let’s try to be friendly it’s a long flight.” There was a slight edge to your tone and it didn’t go unnoticed.

“You’re right dollface,” Ashton bit back, “I’d much rather be seated with my friends. Not our social media manager.”

You felt a warmth spread across your face as you tried to think of a smart response. Ashton has always been the most aloof of the four when you joined the behind the scenes team yet every conversation with him turned sour.

When you didn’t respond Ashton decided to keep going. “I mean I offense but how the hell are any of us supposed to relax when you’re here hovering around? This is supposed to be a party! A vacation! But you make it look like work.”

“That’s right Ash,” you said icily, “because I am working. I have to make sure none of you do anything stupid while you’re ‘having fun and letting loose’.”

And there you go, Ashton thought, like always making everything else difficult. Why couldn’t you just be agreeable?

“Besides,” you said interrupting his thoughts, “the last thing the group needs is more dating drama. Your last stint did enough damage.”

There. You said it, after weeks of thinking it you actually said it. You didn’t blame him for how the breakup went and for a while you were proud at how little attention Ashton gave to the fan speculation. But then he deleted all their pictures together and made a few (now long deleted) vague tweets that sent the fan base into a deadly spiral that spewed death threats at his ex and caused you more than enough sleepless nights.

You felt a little guilty when he didn’t respond with another jape- but who did he think he was anyway? Sure he was attractive but he couldn’t get away with everything. Not this time. Not after you had to stage and arrange posts for him every time he swapped partners.

You huffed and slipped your headphones in. There was no hope for pleasant conversation, and you had no desire to fill the time with mobile games. The audiobook claimed to calm and soothe the overworked professional with meditation and organization tips. Compared to the $350 plane fare the $25 download seemed like a reasonable and informative way to fill the ten-hour flight.

By the halfway mark you’d been proven wrong on both accounts. The narrator’s lilting accent was distracting in all the wrong ways, and the information sounded like every motivational speaker ever; all hype and no substance. Twice you felt your eyes drifting closed and twice you managed to snap yourself out of it. The third time however you didn’t snap back awake as your head lolled to the side.

The brush of your hair against his shoulder alerted Ashton to the situation. He chuckled lightly under his breath, for a moment you were at peace. For a moment you were someone he didn’t know, someone he might’ve liked to know better.

But moments don’t last forever, Ashton knew this to be true and before long the light jostling of the plane woke you up. You blinked slowly trying to adjust to the lights and grimaced as Ashton came into focus. The intensity of his gaze puzzled you. Was there something on your face? The expression was unconscious, but Ashton saw it flicker across your face and that stung. Not even away more than a minute and you were already getting to him.

Uninterested in having another quiet row like a soon-to-be-divorced couple, he quickly looked away leaving you once again to choose between silence and the droning audiobook as the plane crossed the Atlantic and then the entirety of the North American continent.

The sun had already set when the descent started. Outside you could see the world swathed in swatches of brilliant color and dazzling shapes against the horizon. It felt like your heart skipped a beat. The Vegas strip was everything you’d expected. The hotel itself looked like a work of abstract art, it’s glass elevators sparkling under the desert sunset.

Late dinner reservations had been made for the five of them, and you took the opportunity to settle into your room, eat an entire room service pizza, and take a nap. They would be out on the hotel’s casino floor for the rest of the night and you were more than happy to join them.

By the time you put yourself together and got there, the house was in full swing. The music was loud, the people louder. You noticed Ashton first at a roulette table surrounded by other beautiful people. You turned to walk away and look for Crystal when he noticed you.

You smiled thinly and made your way over to him, you had to. Anything else would’ve been seen as rude and that was a problem you didn’t want to deal with.

You lightly touched his shoulder to let him know you were there and glanced over the table. He hasn’t lost anything but wasn’t winning either. Ashton froze at your touch, the innocuous gesture sent a shock through his body, and at that moment something changed.

The dealer called for bets to be placed for the new round as you settled in next to Ashton. The dark jacket paired well with the retro red shirt he wore and you had trouble looking away.

“You look-“ Ashton started but couldn’t finish the sentence, his wide eyes glanced over your body for one of the first times seeing it outside of business wear. The metallic accents caught in the low light and cast an ethereal glow over you that kept drawing his focus.

You flushed, “thanks...you do too.” The sentiment felt heavy despite the normalcy of the exchange and you quickly accepted a glass of something from a roaming waiter to loosen your tongue.

You glanced back over the table and turned to Ashton with a conspiratorial grin. You leaned in to whisper and Ashton felt your hot breath on his neck.

“Always bet on black,” you offered while biting your lip as he laughed lightly. Everyone said that everyone knew that was a rookie move. But for the moment it seemed like the best advice and you were shocked when he did it.

Not as shocked as you were when he won.

Ashton turned and looked at you, amazed.

“Ash that was so lucky!” You gushed openly and your genuine smile pulled at his heart.

“Maybe it’s just you,” he said softly, the honest edge to his voice surprising you. You laughed awkwardly trying to play off the sentimentality of the words but they kept playing over in your mind.

“I think the happy couple ran away for a little bit,” he offered quickly moving on, “but I think we ought to go celebrate.”

You nodded, “well since I did help you win, I suppose you could buy me a drink.”

Ashton grinned back and quickly gathered his winnings before wrapping an arm around your waist and leading you towards the lounge. You could smell his cologne as you walked and you weren’t sure if it was that or his hand on your hip that kept distracting you from whatever he was saying.

The hazy lounge atmosphere was almost as intoxicating as the cocktails that Ashton kept ordering for the two of you. The liquor burned in all the best ways and a soft sweet taste lingered on your lips. You felt warm and giddy, and surprisingly happy to have been spending this time with Ashton.

At some point, his arm wrapped around your shoulders and you laughed at one of his jokes. Had he been sober the sound might’ve broken his heart, like most secret things do if they’ve been dreamed about before.

You turned to say something but stopped with the words dead on arrival. Ashton was closer than you had realized while talking, your faces just inches apart. The red hue of the lights flashed across his features and seemed to show how truly beautiful he was.

For a moment the closeness lingered, and you could feel a tense stiffness in the arm around you, and electricity where his hand curled around your bare shoulder. Unconsciously you felt your face tilt up towards his, and Ashton felt the same desire to close the gap.

What am I doing, you thought trying to blink out of it, I technically work for him I can’t kiss him! Besides he doesn’t even tolerate me normally.

Ashton froze, unable to tear himself away from you, the soft tint of the lights exaggerated the shadows on your face and kept drawing his eyes back to your lips. His hand on your shoulder itched to run up to tangle in the hair at the back of your neck and pull you against him.

She doesn’t even want to be here, he thought suddenly, why the hell would she want to kiss me on top of that?

But somewhere in the back of his mind Ashton knew you were struggling over something similar. He knew you were at least tempted, otherwise you would’ve moved.

A scantily clad cocktail waitress interrupted the moment and sent you both back to looking away. Your stomach felt uneasy from the tension and you drank quietly for a while contemplating your next move. You needed to say something funny, something light to keep this good energy going.

“Look at the bartender,” you said, “can you imagine him working anywhere else?” Your joke was directed at a thin sort of person who without a doubt had the Vegas aesthetic down to a T.

Ashton felt his heart drop, couldn’t you say something nice? Did you always have to be so critical of everyone?

“That’s typical,” he mumbled into his drunk.

“What do you mean it’s typical?”

“You, princess. Always having some shallow thing to say,” he took a long drink draining the glass before turning back to your shocked face.

This had been a bad idea, you knew he had some problem with you but it had been enough.

Refusing to cause a scene on the crowded floor you swiftly stood. “It was just a joke,” you hissed through a clenched jaw before walking towards the lobby and elevators that would whisk you back to the safety of your room.

“Hey come back!” Ashton tossed money into the table and quickly darted after you, slipping into the elevator at the last second.

“We were having a good time,” he said defensively, “stop being such a spoilsport.”

“A good time? Sure, it’s all fun and games for you. Didn’t you ever stop to think that maybe something is majorly wrong when you can’t go twenty minutes without insulting me?”

“It wasn’t an insult it was a comment.”

You laughed openly, “oh that’s rich Ash. A comment.”

The doors slid open on your floor and you quickly turned heel and left. You heard his footfalls behind you and it took everything in you to resist slamming your door before he could enter the room. You angrily kicked your shoes off sending them in varying directions that you didn’t care to fix.

Ashton felt his palms get sweaty and his mouth dry. He didn’t want to keep watching you walk away anymore. “Can’t we just talk about this like friends?”

“Friends?” You felt your heart get all twisty at the words, “we’ve never been friends Ashton.”

When he didn’t respond you continued, crossing your arms in front of your chest as if the pressure would keep you still and safe.

“I used to think we could’ve been. When we first met I thought: now there’s the one- attractive and smart and mature. But all you’ve ever done is play games, spew pretensions, and hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” he said lamely taking a step closer to you.

“You don’t hate me? Oh that’s right you just hate the way I dress, and joke, and talk...” You met his gaze with a challenge and in another first of the night, he accepted.

Ashton looked at you with a fondness he had never expressed out loud and a gentleness that’s translated in how he took your hand in his and pulled you against him.

“I don’t hate you at all,” he said softly cupping your cheek with his other hand, “I hate that when you’re here you’re always working, I hate that you can’t ever just be with us, I hate that I miss you when you don’t answer a text, and I absolutely loathe that when you do it’s because you have to talk to me.” Because I want to talk to you, he thought unable to form the words in the mouth.

You suddenly felt very small pressed against him and you knew he could see the heat rising in your face.

“Professional was just easier,” you whispered unable to look him in the eyes, “because I don’t hate you either. For a long time I hated having to orchestrate and present people with you-“ because they weren’t me, you thought unable to say the words out loud.

His thumb softly traced the slant of your cheekbones as you hesitantly looked back into his eyes, and unlike in the lounge you did resist the urge to close the space between you, and neither did he.

The kiss was soft and filled with the emotion of everything not said, like all first kisses should be.

“I don’t hate you at all,” he whispered whilst placing kisses to the sides of your face, “not even a little bit, not even at all.” As your lips let a second time you both felt how surely the sentiment was quite the opposite and had been for quite some time.

Ashton was the only thought in your mind, and the only word on your lips as the kisses grew sloppier and needy. He tasted like cherry syrup from the cocktails and you wanted more.

A little disoriented from the alcohol you haphazardly walked backward pulling Ashton with you until you felt the edge of the mattress press against your calves. In a fit of giggles, you both tumbled back onto the bed.

You had never seen him smile like this before, his whole face seemed brighter and you knew instantly he was thinking the same things too. You moved in a flurry of hands and touches that struggled through the haze to remove clothes.

You straddled him to slide the jacket from his shoulders and fumbled with the buttons on his shirt until that too was discarded. Your hands trembled as they skated across his chest, and you felt him shiver as they were replaced with your lips. You slid down his body leading trails of kisses that stopped just above his belt buckle. The way it caught the light sent a delicious shiver down your spine and you tucked that thought away for another time.

Deftly you slipped the belt off before working on the slacks. You slowed and groaned softly upon revealing a dark red pair of lace pants under his trousers.

“Sweetheart,” you cooed teasingly as you repositioned yourself between his legs, “you should’ve led with this.” His hoarse laugh stifled into moans as you traced the lace with your tongue. Your eye wandered to the glittering bottle of champagne on the nightstand and between it and the heady look on Ashton’s face, you knew it was going to be a good night.

The next morning which really ended up being the next afternoon- you were pleased to wake up curled and tangled around a very naked Ashton. The pounding headache and dry mouth were a direct contrast.

You were thankful the curtains were still closed as the moderate darkness seemed to help the monster out hangover you were now feeling. You shifted slightly and were surprised to notice you weren’t entirely naked. You were wearing a t-shirt you didn’t remember owning. The words looked like gibberish but you gathered it was from the hotel’s gift shop.

The discovery prompted you to look around the room and you noticed something. Ashton’s fancy clothes and delightful red panties were joined by a pair of his jeans, another shirt, and an extra pair of your bottoms as well.

There were papers strewn on the nightstand and a shopping bag near the door that you didn’t remember buying. The cool air stung your bare legs and prompted you to curl back into Ashton who lazily smiled and kissed your temple as you rejoined him.

“G’morning darlin’,” he said through a yawn making you giggle.

“Do you remember going back out last night?”

Ashton shook his head but before he could say anything his ringtone cut through the silence and roused a chorus of pained groans from both of you.

He scrambled to answer it and you noticed the empty bottle of champagne on the other side of the bed, and what looked like a sacked minibar’s worth of trash with it.

I am never drinking again, you thought as the ringing subsided and your head began to throb.

“Michael wants us for brunch,” Ashton said tossing his phone back to the cluttered nightstand. You groaned at the thought of food and hoped it would be greasy enough to cut through the drunk brain fog.

You had to swing by Ashton’s room for him to get dressed making it a little later than anticipated when you finally got to the lobby. Crystal and Michael were sharing a love seat and as you both exited the elevator they erupted into raucous laughter and cheers that reverberated pain through your head.

“Aw fuck,” you hissed rubbing a hand on your temple. Ashton had an arm around your waist which kept yours from stumbling.

“Oh come on I expected a little more life after last night,” Michael called with a grin.

“I didn’t think Mikey was serious,” Crystal said, “do you have the papers on you?”

On top of them, Luke chimed in, “I got the whole crying jag on video it’ll make a hell of an update when we get back.”

You and Ashton shared a confused look and silently looked to Callum for help. He was drinking a delightful looking mimosa and sighed putting it down.

“I don’t think they remember,” he started before getting cut off.

“Awe no way! Look at them, they’re the picture of romantic bliss,” Michael taunted with a laugh.

You sighed, “come on now guys I know it’s a little odd for us to hook up but enough with the jokes.”

“Hook up?” Luke laughed, “that’s not what Elvis would have to say about it.”

You were trying not to get frustrated but it was hard. “Luke, what in the hell does Elvis have to do with anything?”

Callum cut in before the others could keep hounding you.

“Promise me you won’t freak out?”

You nodded and felt Ashton do the same.

“Alright,” Callum started slowly leaving time to gauge reactions as he spoke, “Luke and I got a call last night around 4:30, one of you were crying about how you ruined mike’s moment when you were too out of it to explain we came down here to meet you...”

As he spoke flashes of memories seemed to play in your mind. You almost remembered dialing the phone inside who to talk to, but certain you didn’t want to upset anyone.

“Apparently you’d just come in from one of those 24-hour chapels and we’re worried Mike and Crystal would be upset you stole the show.”

“Why would we go to a church?” Ashton asked slowly. Neither you nor Ashton were specifically interested in that sort of thing. Yet as he asked it you remembered stumbling through the lobby looking for something new to wear.

Your mind reeled trying to fit together pieces that you weren’t sure went to the same puzzle. You ran a hand through your hair a small ring on your hand catching in the light. You recognized it immediately as Ashton’s. Something borrowed, you thought unsure of why that mattered.

Callum shook his head as Michael dissolved into a fit of laughter.

“You dumbasses, you got married!”

You and Ashton quickly looked at each other and then back at the others and then back at each other trying to process this whirlwind of information.

The moment lingered longer than Michael found funny and without much else said you were whisked by the other happy couple off for brunch and out into a world where nothing would ever be the same.

#rpf #5sos writers collab #ashton x reader #5sos #oneshot #mermaidcashton #tw: alcohol

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