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baepsaesbae · 4 years ago

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Spring Will Come Again

Pairing— Jeon Jungkook x reader

Genre— Photographer!Jungkook x Baker!reader, SMUT +18, fluff, angst, Virgin!Jungkook, Sub!Jungkook, Switch!Jungkook

Warnings— Finger sucking, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, squirting (?), slight choking, there are a lot of emotions, Jungkook is literally so sweet gosh I just wanna hold him tight, this fic is kind of a rollercoaster of emotions bc I myself do b going thru it

Word Count— ~10.9k

Summary— Springtime generally brings new beginnings, but being stuck in a small town all your life means nothing ever changes. Finally, something, or rather, someone, stumbles into your life. Can this shy boy manage to change your life forever?

A/N— This beautiful banner was made by @dee-ehn! Please let me know what you think of this fic! Hope you guys enjoy~

It all started on a beautiful spring day. Something had convinced you to go on an unprecedented early morning walk for some reason.

The morning air was cold but crisp. You were bundled up in your favorite sweater, and the scarf that your grandmother knitted for you was wrapped snugly around your neck. Normally you would be immersed in your headphones, but since today was already unusual you decided to forgo the music.

You walked along the banks of the stream that flowed next to your neighborhood. This particular stream held nothing but fond memories. You grew up here with all the other kids. During the summer breaks, you’d play out here from morning to nightfall. This was the place where you saw your first fireflies, and where you won your first fist fight.

You stopped to sit on the grassy hill that ran alongside the banks, relishing in nostalgia as you took in a breath of fresh air. Everything is so different now. Everyone moved away to pursue their careers or to go to a big university. You were the only one left. Your parents urged you to go to college, but you refused. Who else would help run the bakery?

As much as you hated to see it, your parents were growing old. Managing the family bakery was getting harder on them. You were such a huge help to them since you basically managed all of the front-of-house work. They worked diligently in the kitchen every day to create the best baked goods in town.

You had always dreamt of leaving this small town. You’ve fantasized about attending a big university in the middle of a bustling city since you were a little kid. Unfortunately, that can’t happen now. You can’t leave your parents or the bakery behind. You held no resentment though, you loved it. Being an only child was a bit lonely at times, but your parents made you feel loved no matter what.

You laid on the grassy hill, watching the clouds roll by. Maybe life was better this way. It was simple, and you always knew what to expect. Day in and day out, the routine was always the same.

Everything changed on that day. That was the fateful day that you ran into him. Or rather, he ran into you.

“Good morning, ____! Where were you this morning? Why weren’t you answering your phone?” your concerned mother asked when you returned home.

“Morning mom. I went on a walk and forgot my phone I guess. Sorry about that. I ended up laying on the hill by the stream,” you replied as you sat at the breakfast table.

Living with bakers was probably one of the biggest blessings in your life. Every meal smelled delectable and you had access to all the fresh goodies you could desire.

“Wow, you were awake before we were? What a surprise. Here, tell me what you think of this loaf,” your dad set it in front of you.

You tossed a piece of bread into your mouth. The taste was savory to say the least. It was your father’s signature banana bread loaf, only this time with a small twist.

“Why’d you take out the walnuts? It’s still delicious though,” you said, devouring another piece.

“Well so many customers complain about having nut allergies now. I thought we could sell more if we take them out! You think we can sell this?” he asked eagerly.

“I think this will be our newest best seller!” you happily replied, “I’m gonna go open up the shop. See you guys soon,” you kissed them each on the cheek before taking your leave.

The bakery was down the street from your house, so the commute was only about 5 minutes even if you walked slowly. You brought your phone with you this time, so you were jamming out to your music, oblivious to the outside world. You were so out of it, that you didn’t have time to react to the person quickly rounding the corner.

One moment you were walking to work, the next you were knocked onto the cold hard ground. Your assailant fell on top of you, and you soon locked eyes with him. It was as if time stood still for a moment. He was the most beautiful boy you’ve ever seen. His eyes were wide with concern, and for a moment, you swore you saw stars twinkling within them.

It took a second to register that this stranger was on top of you, in a compromising position no less. You’ve never been this close to a boy since...well it has been a while. Your legs were intertwined and his nose was only inches from yours.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you until the last second,” the boy apologized as he scrambled to get off of you.

As he helped you up, you reassured him that you were fine. You laughed off the incident and took the boy by surprise. You had the most angelic laugh he’d ever heard. He stood awkwardly gazing at you, before you asked him if he was okay.

“I-I’m fine! I’m glad you’re okay. I apologize again for being so careless,” he bowed.

“I’m also at fault! I wasn’t paying attention either. So shame on both of us,” you smiled to show him you were joking, “Enjoy the rest of your day, don’t run into anyone else!”

And with that, you parted ways. You forgot about the stranger as the morning rush piled into the bakery.

Despite being located in a small town, your parent’s were nationally renowned bakers. The bakery was always busy. That was part of why you loved it so much, you were never bored. The regular customers were your favorite. Most of the townsfolk had been coming to the bakery since you were little.

“Is this banana bread new?” Mrs. Park, the local florist, asked.

“Technically, yes. It’s the exact same recipe but without the walnuts,” you replied.

“Perfect! I’m not too fond of walnuts but I adore your parents’ banana bread,” Mrs. Park beamed, handing you a loaf along with other goods she picked up.

“How’s Jimin?” you asked as you rang her up.

“Oh he’s doing well! He loves it out there in the big city. At first, I was terrified of letting him go. He’s just always been so passionate about dancing, I finally had to cave in. He recently auditioned to be part of some fancy dance crew, and he got in! Can you believe it?” Mrs. Park began to dote on her son.

“That’s amazing! I’m happy for him,” you smiled.

“You know, ____, Jimin is still single. You two would be perfect together--”

“Long distance relationships are hard, Mrs. Park,” your mother interrupted her, swooping in to save the day. Thank god. You wouldn’t have known how to react.

“She could always move out to the city to be with him!” Mrs. Park retorted, not picking up on the awkward situation she created.

“I could never leave the bakery,” you responded quickly.

“Ah, yes that’s right. You have such a good daughter, Mrs. _____. Jimin never took any interest in taking over the family business. I’m jealous of you!” Mrs. Park said to your mom.

After what seemed like an eternity, Mrs. Park finally left. You were fond of her, but she never knew when to stop talking. Jimin was a good friend of yours growing up. You never wanted to admit that you had a huge crush on him. You figured it wouldn’t have mattered anyway, since he was so fixated on moving out.

The morning rush had died down. You took this opportunity to restock and tidy things up before the afternoon rush. The store bell rang, indicating the arrival of another customer.

“Welcome in! I’ll be with you shortly,” you called out from behind the counter.

“No worries, thanks!” the customer yelled back.

Once finished, you popped up with a bright smile on your face. Your parents taught you to always greet the customers with a smile as soon as they walk in.

However, the customer wasn’t facing your direction. He was looking at the baked goods that aligned the opposite wall. You patiently waited for him to make his selection. He kept walking back and forth, eyeing all of the baked items. You left your station behind the counter and approached him.

“Can I help you with anything, sir?” you piped up behind him.

The man jumped back, startled.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you,” you apologized.

“It’s okay! I didn’t hear you at all. You must be some sort of ninja-- Oh it’s you!” the boy turned around to face you.

It was the gorgeous boy who ran into you earlier.

“Hello again! I guess it was my turn to frighten you,” you joked.

“That’s fair,” he nodded, “What’s the best thing here?”

“Mmm that’s hard for me to say, considering that I love them all. What kind of tastes and textures do you like?” your customer service persona kicked in.

“I like sweet things I guess? I like bananas too…” he trailed off.

“We don’t have any bananas in fruit form, but we do have killer banana bread,” you beamed.

“That sounds good, but I don’t really like nuts so--”

“There are no nuts in our new recipe! You must be lucky, this is the first day that we’ve started selling them. Want me to ring you up a loaf?” you interrupted him.

“Oh no nuts? Okay, I’ll try it,” he agreed quietly.

“Would you still like to get something sweet as well?”

“Yeah, if that’s okay,” he nodded timidly.

“Of course it’s okay! My personal favorite is our milk pudding bun. The pudding in the middle is pretty creamy plus the bread is unbelievably soft! If that’s not for you, then we have a classic chocolate bun filled with, surprise surprise, chocolate. We also have…” you led the boy around the entire bakery.

You were too focused on recommending various breads to notice him stealing glances at you that lingered longer than normal. He patiently let you talk his ear off about the goodies.

“I’ll go with the milk pudding bun,” he smiled shyly.

“That was the first one! You should’ve stopped me from rambling,” you huffed.

“I wanted to know my options. Plus you seemed pretty happy,” he added softly.

“Alright, let’s go check you out then,” you headed to the counter, “I haven’t seen you before. What brings you to our little town?” you attempted to make conversation.

“Mmm, to get away, I guess,” the boy said after a pause.

“Are you in some sort of trouble?” you leaned over the counter to whisper.

“Kind of,” he whispered back.

“Stay right here, I can call the police,” you frantically murmured as you whipped out your phone.

“No no! Not like that,” he couldn’t contain his laughter, “I’m a fine arts student. My main focus is photography, but lately I haven’t been able to capture anything worth printing,” he explained.

“Ohhh,” you said, feeling dumb, “Then why come to a town in the middle of nowhere? You won’t find much here.”

“To an untrained eye, maybe so. But to a professional, beauty can be found anywhere,” he said proudly.

“Then why can’t you find anything back home? And aren’t you still a student?” you questioned.

“You know, I was really hoping that you’d let me have that,” the boy deflated.

“Aw, I’m sorry! If you ever want to take photos of the beauty that is bread, you’re always welcome here,” you smiled.

“I might take you up on that offer,” he said as he grabbed the purchased goods, “What’s your name by the way?”

“____. Yours?”

“Jeon Jungkook.”

“I’ll see you around, Mr. Jeon Jungkook. Oh! And if you’d like a tour of the town, I’d be more than happy to show you around,” you suggested.

“That would be nice,” Jungkook pondered, “Where can I find you?”

“I’m here every day. I get off at 3pm,” you answered.

“Cool. I’ll drop by tomorrow, if that’s okay?”

“Sure! See you then!” you waved goodbye.

“Who was that?” your mother asked when the boy left.

“Some photography student that said he wanted to get away for some inspiration. I offered to give him a tour tomorrow after work,” you explained.

“Do you want me to come with you?” your dad offered.

“I’ll be fine on my own, thanks,” you quickly turned him down.

You spent the next morning frantically flip flopping between outfits. Should you go with a pretty top paired with a skirt? Or perhaps keep it casual with a t-shirt and jeans? Or should you go with a simple dress? You know you’re supposed to be a tour guide, but you still wanted to look somewhat presentable. You settled for the dress. It gave off a “cute but not trying too hard” type of vibe.

Time seemed to slowly drag on as you waited for Jungkook to return. You had already mapped out your route, making sure it was efficient (not like there’s much to see anyway). You wanted to surprise him with a picnic at the end of the tour. Hopefully it could help show off the natural beauty of the forests and meadows that surrounded the town. As the clock approached 3pm, you began to wonder if springing a surprise picnic on a stranger was odd. Oh god, what if it was? You hadn’t had much interaction with people your age once all your friends went off to live their own lives. Panic was starting to set in when the front bell chimed.

“Hey! I’m a little early, but I can wait around until you’re finished,” Jungkook greeted you. You noticed a fancy looking camera dangling around his chest.

“It’s all good! Business has been slow today, I’ve been bored,” you admitted.

“Oh I see--” Jungkook was cut off.

“Hi! I’m ____’s mom. Did you like the bread you bought yesterday?” your mom materialized out of nowhere with a pan of fresh bread in her hands.

“It was delicious! Better than anything I could get in the city,” Jungkook complimented.

“Why did you batch a new batch? No one has come in after 1pm,” you aggressively whispered to your mom.

“I got bored,” she pouted, “Here, have one! On the house, think of it as a welcoming present to our town,” she motioned for Jungkook to take a fresh loaf off the tray.

Jungkook’s face lit up at the offer as he thanked her for the snack. His smile lingered as he took a bite, savoring the taste.

“You must have some sort of good luck charm; you’re getting even more free food later,” you chuckled as you plopped a wicker basket onto the checkout counter.

“Sweet,” he beamed.

You let out a small sigh of relief. It didn’t seem like Jungkook was creeped out by the thought of eating with a stranger. With the basket in hand, you led Jungkook across the town. There truly wasn’t much to see. Your family’s bakery was in line with the rest of the town’s shops. You passed by the florist, the cafe, the grocery store, and the post office within the first 3 minutes just by walking down the street. You added in little personal stories with each business that you pointed out.

Jungkook paused by the flower shop, in awe of all the beautiful arrangements. His eyes scanned the outside displays, as if he was looking for something.

“Need something specific, dear?” Mrs. Park asked her potential customer.

“Do you have Tiger flowers?” he inquired.

“Tiger… No, but I can probably order some for you,” she offered.

“Ah, that’s alright. I’m sorry to bother you,” Jungkook apologized before rejoining you.

“Did you wanna take a picture of that specific flower?” you asked him as you strolled along the sidewalk.

“Yeah, it’s my birth flower,” he shyly nodded.

“Oh nice! I don’t know what my birth flower is, but yours sounds pretty. Ah, here is the town square. Over there is the courthouse/government building/boring stuff happens in there probably,” you said as you pointed out the building.

“This is cool,” Jungkook examined a decrepit well that stood in front of the courthouse.

“I guess. I always thought it would be better if they replaced it with a big pretty fountain or something,” you mentioned as you looked down into the dark abyss of the well.

Jungkook said nothing as he began taking pictures of the well from various angles. You watched him frown at each picture he took before he tried to take another.

“Maybe you could take a picture looking into the well? I mean, you’d probably have to stand on it to get a full shot and your feet will be in it but…” you suggested before realizing that you knew nothing about photography.

Jungkook immediately hopped onto the well, disregarding the loose pebbles that crumbled away under his weight. Pointing the camera directly down into the well, he snapped a couple of pictures. He didn’t bother hopping off of the well before scrolling through the pictures he just took. You caught yourself staring at him, admiring his features. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, his lips were pursed, and the wind was blowing his bangs over his forehead ever so slightly. He really was a handsome boy, though he seemed to be completely unaware of it.

“How’d it turn out?” you asked as he climbed down.

“Not bad actually. Better than the angles I took at first,” Jungkook smiled with approval, “I’ll show you after I touch them up.”

“I’m excited to see! Also, this basically concludes the tour because everything else is residential stuff. Unless you wanna take pictures of random people’s homes,” you joked.

“I’m good. Is this where we’re eating? I kinda skipped lunch,” Jungkook looked at the wicker basket in your hand.

“Nope! I’m gonna take you somewhere special. Are you okay with a bit of light hiking?”

“Sounds fun,” Jungkook grinned.

“Perfect! Now it’s your turn to lug this thing around,” you said as you handed him the deceptively heavy basket.

You took him to the outskirts of town, where nature was left untouched.

“Is this where all the cool kids have their picnics?” Jungkook asked as you led him down an old trail.

“All the cool kids left this town a while ago, so I can’t speak on their behalf. However, this is where I like to have my picnics so take that in whatever way you please,” you responded.

It was a sunny day on the verge of being too hot, but the densely wooded forest provided enough shade to make it comfortable. Your parents used to take you on walks in these woods when you (and they) were younger. Of course, now the hilly paths and loose soil would only wreak havoc on your parents’ old knees. You’ve grown accustomed to exploring on your own. Bringing Jungkook along was a pleasant change.

“You okay with eating here?” you suddenly stopped, pointing over to a field just off the trail.

“I’ll eat anywhere, I’m starving,” Jungkook quickly nodded.

“I’m fully aware of that; I could barely hear the birds chirping over the sounds of your stomach growling,” you teased.

An old tree that was large enough to cover up the entire picnic blanket with shade proved to be the ideal spot. Jungkook set down the wicker basket that you assigned to him earlier, eagerly waiting for you to finally open it.

“On the menu today we have fruits as an appetizer, ham and cheese sandwiches in homemade croissants as the main course, and last but not least, chocolate buns for dessert,” you proudly showcased each item.

“I never knew bread could taste so heavenly until I went to your bakery. I’m happy I walked in,” Jungkook praised as he wolfed down his sandwich.

“It’s not my bakery, it’s my parents’ bakery,” you corrected him as you ate the fruit.

“Don’t you work in it nearly every day? I don’t see how it’s not your bakery too,” Jungkook insisted.

“I’m not the one running the business,” you argued.

“You seem to put in the same amount as work as them. Instead of baking, you’re handling all of the customers. That’s gotta count for something, right?” Jungkook persisted.

“Fine, I guess you could say it’s a family bakery. Happy?” you huffed, clearly annoyed.

“Hey, I wasn’t trying to make you angry. I’m sorry if I overstepped,” Jungkook apologized, putting his sandwich down, “I wanted to let you know how much I love your family’s bread, that’s all.”

“No, it’s fine. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped at you. It’s just…” your trailed off as you gazed at the blue sky.

“I don’t want to pry, but I’m happy to sit here and listen,” Jungkook offered.

“I don’t want to scare you away by dumping my personal issues on you,” you tried to lighten the mood.

“I don’t think you could do that, ____,” Jungkook assured you.

Your eyes widened ever so slightly since he caught you off guard with his sincerity, but soon you gave him a soft smile.

“Fine, since we’re just sitting here anyway,” you caved as you picked up your sandwich, “I wish I wasn’t here anymore. Don’t get me wrong, I love my parents and I love the bakery. I just wish I got to go to a big city somewhere and attend a real university. I don’t know what I’d study, I just know that I thought my life would be different by now,” you turn away from him to hide your watery eyes.

“It’s not all that great,” Jungkook responded after a short pause, “I came from a small town too. The only difference was that it was along a beach, not by a forest. Wait, the location doesn’t matter,” he quietly scolded himself, “What I’m trying to say is that I did get away from my hometown. I was so excited to finally be a city kid. I didn’t realize how overwhelming it would be. Now look at me. I’m a senior in college with no direction in life. That’s what I get for choosing a career with no job security,” he chuckled as he looked down at the camera around his neck.

“But are you doing what you love?” you quietly asked.

“I think so. Are you?” he asked back.

“I think so,” you sighed, finally turning to look at him.

“I could always take you back to the city with me,” Jungkook flashed you a big bunny smile.

“Don’t joke with me like that. I hate getting my hopes up,” you playfully punch him in the arm.

“I’m not joking!” he yelped in surprise.

The conversation turned into a more cheerful one. You both spoke about your dreams, both childhood and present day. It was fun talking with Jungkook as you both watched the clouds roll by without a care in the world.

“Maybe you could get some pretty shots of some wildlife while we’re out here,” you recommended when the conversation came to a pause.

“Do you want to model for me?” Jungkook asked.

“Huh?” his sudden proposal surprised you.

“It’s completely okay if you don’t want to! Actually, just forget I said anything,” Jungkook looked down at the camera in his hands in a futile attempt to hide his flushed cheeks.

“Just tell me how to pose,” you smiled, already getting up.

“Uh, just act natural,” he said awkwardly as you leaned against the thick tree trunk.

At first, you made some silly poses that made Jungkook laugh. To be honest, you only did that because you really didn’t know how to pose next to the tree while making it look natural. Forcing a smile, you attempted to lean on the tree like as if it were another person.

“You don’t have to fake a smile,” Jungkook called from behind the camera.

“I don’t know what to do!” you called back.

“Act natural!”

“How do I do that?”

“Naturally!”

His response rewarded him a sarcastic eye roll, followed by a burst of laughter. Jungkook furiously clicked his camera as you laughed even harder. He praised you for ‘being in your natural state’ as he took shots from ridiculous angles. He gave you a thumbs up after he was satisfied with the impromptu photoshoot.

“Is laughing until I can’t breathe just me being in my natural state?” you asked playfully as you sat back down on the picnic blanket.

“It was authentic, so I would say so. I wish I could capture sound too, your laugh is so cute,” Jungkook said nonchalantly as he scrolled through the photos.

His eyes widened as soon as he realized what he said. He opened his mouth to try and take it back, or at least cover it up. He looked over at you shyly, only to see that you were digging out dessert from the basket. He let out a sigh of relief. Thankfully, you didn’t hear him.

“How were the pictures?” you asked, scooting to sit beside him after handing him the dessert.

“See for yourself,” he proudly showed you.

You were amazed by his talent. Even without editing, the photos looked like they were ready to be submitted into a contest. Everything looked so perfect. Your smile was genuine, the lighting was optimal, and your hair looked surprisingly good. You applauded him for his talent, to which he bashfully denied by saying he was still such an amatuer. You both finally dug into the desserts.

“These chocolate buns were amazing,” Jungkook licked his lips after he finished it.

“They’re my personal favorite! They’re also the best things that I can make on my own,” you winked at him as you finished yours.

“You made these?” Jungkook’s doe eyes filled with awe.

“Yep! Don’t act so surprised,” you pouted.

“Sorry, it’s just that you told me your parents bake everything. These were really good! Probably the best things I’ve had since--oh wait. You have a little something,” Jungkook leaned forward to wipe the corner of your mouth with his thumb.

You both froze for a second, in shock of this intimate gesture. Jungkook’s mouth opened to apologize, but you stopped him before he had the chance. Without thinking about it, you put your mouth around his thumb. You sucked on it for a second before you snapped back to reality. You started apologizing profusely the instant his thumb left your mouth.

“It’s okay! I shouldn’t have touched you in the first place,” Jungkook shied away from you, refusing to look you in the eyes.

“I don’t know what came over me,” you apologized as you grabbed his hand.

Jungkook looked at you with an embarrassed expression the moment you held his hand in yours. At first you didn’t realize why he was so embarrassed, you were the one sucking his thumb. But then, you noticed Jungkook sheepishly resting his other hand in his lap.

“Jungkook,” you said sweetly.

“Yes?” he answered, his eyes averting yours once more.

“Do you want me to do it again?”

“Huh?” he looked back at you with disbelief.

You made a bold move as you moved to straddle his lap, each leg settling beside his waist. You brought his hand up to your mouth and batted your eyes innocently.

“Like this,” you say before licking his pointer finger.

Jungkook gulped while slowly nodding his head, giving you permission to continue. His eyes stayed glued on you as you wrapped your lips around his finger. You dragged your flattened out tongue from the base to the tip. You then reversed this motion, but instead only using the tip of your tongue. You began to work on his middle finger as well. It was hard to fit his long fingers in your mouth, but you’re no quitter. Your tongue weaved between his fingers, adequately coating them with your saliva.

Jungkook’s breaths quickened the longer you went on. You felt a bulge grow between your thighs as you straddled him. Perhaps wearing a dress was a great idea after all. Your hips began to move on their own as you slowly grinded on Jungkook.

“____…” Jungkook moaned quietly when you daringly took three fingers into your mouth.

Rubbing your clothed pussy against his hard crotch spurred you on even more. Drool was dribbling down Jungkook’s arm and your chin, but neither of you cared. It just made you look more erotic to him. His other hand was on your hip to help you maintain a rhythm. You opened your eyes to make contact with his as you suckled his fingers. That’s all it took to make him come undone.

He quickly pushed you off of him as he cried out. You were both too shocked to say anything for a few seconds. Jungkook seemed too embarrassed to look you in the eyes again, his cheeks bright red.

“Jungkook, I--” you started to apologize.

“You probably think I’m pretty lame huh? Cumming in my pants like some sort of middle schooler,” he looked down in defeat.

“What? No, of course not!” you disagreed.

“Don’t lie,” Jungkook refused to believe you.

“Jungkook, that was honestly the hottest thing I’ve ever done. What we just did was hotter than when I was actually having sex,” you tried to cheer him up.

“You’re not lying?” Jungkook finally looked up at you with sad puppy dog eyes.

“I swear I’m not. I could help you clean it up, if you’d like,” you offered.

“I think that would make me feel worse. Just hand me some napkins and I’ll go take care of it myself,” he declined.

You packed everything up while you waited for Jungkook to return. He discreetly threw away the ball of used napkins into the designated trash bag, praying to god that you weren’t looking.

The walk back was quiet and awkward. Neither of you knew what to say. You were horrified with how you acted; you’ve never been so bold before. Jungkook was ashamed of cumming before he had the chance to do anything to you. He felt so pathetic.

“I’m sorry for making you so uncomfortable, Jungkook,” you finally apologized.

“Are you kidding? You think I would cum that fast if I was uncomfortable?” Jungkook looked at you with incredulity, “I’m the one who should be sorry. I’m disgusting and came in my pants while you did all the hard work.”

“You’re not disgusting at all, Jungkook. I enjoyed it too. I can’t remember the last time I was that horny,” you laughed.

All the tension in the air had disappeared. Jungkook bounced back to being his cheery self. The conversation went back to normal as you brought him back to the bakery. You hugged him goodbye and were about to leave when he caught your hand.

“Thank you so much for the tour. I know we’ve only known each other for a day but... would you like to go on a date with me?” Jungkook asked with a hopeful look in his eyes.

“No,” you said firmly, watching his shoulders fall, “I’d love to go on a date with you,” you smirked.

“You jerk!” Jungkook gasped.

You couldn’t help it, he was too easy to tease. After working out the details, it was decided that he would come pick you up on Friday night.

Jungkook took you to basically the only restaurant in town (that wasn’t the cafe). It was a family run Italian eatery, and it took Jungkook by surprise.

“Is everyone in this place a master chef or something? This is delicious!” he praised as he ate his pasta.

“I guess it’s the authenticity of family recipes? You probably eat at more chain restaurants while you’re in the city,” you shrugged as you twirled noodles around your fork.

The date went on pleasantly. Jungkook wanted to know as much about you as you did him. The conversations you had were lively and fun; there was never a dull moment with him. Something about him just automatically clicked with you.

“What’s your favorite thing to photograph?” you asked.

“I like taking pictures of landscapes and buildings. That’s why I was super excited about going to a university in the city. It’s a lot easier than taking pictures of people! Unfortunately, that’s where the money is right now,” he explained.

“You don’t like taking pictures of people?”

“Not really, no,” he answered bluntly.

“Then why did you ask me to model for you?” you were genuinely curious.

Jungkook froze in his seat. He took a long sip of his drink before answering you.

“For practice, I suppose,” he said softly.

“I’m happy I was able to help then,” you smiled, thinking nothing of it.

Jungkook seemed grateful that you didn’t press for more details, and was soon coaxed out of his shy shell once the topic of anime came around. You were happy that he took you out on a proper date, you hadn’t been on one in so long.

He walked you back under the pale moonlight. You were admiring the twinkling stars when you realized that Jungkook hadn’t said anything in a while. His hand awkwardly brushed against yours when you first left the restaurant, but you didn’t think much of it. Jungkook seemed to be thinking hard about something as he walked alongside you. You were going to say something when the back of his hand brushed against yours again. He instantly pulled away and uttered a small “sorry”.

“What’s wrong, Jungkook?” you were worried now, you thought the date went well.

“Nothing…,” his voice trailed off as he looked away.

You interlocked his pinky with yours without a word. Jungkook looked over at you with surprise, but said nothing. He admonished himself for not committing to hold your hand, but he was happy with this too. In fact, he thought it was cuter than actual hand holding.

You arrived in front of your house. Bidding Jungkook goodnight, you went in for a hug. Jungkook also went in for a hug, but he leaned the same way you did. In a quick bumble, your lips grazed the corner of Jungkook’s, causing you to jump back. You stood in Jungkook’s arms, looking away in embarrassment. He brought up one of his hands to cup your cheek, forcing you to look back at him. His eyes sparkled under the moonlight as he gazed into yours.

Slowly, you found yourself leaning forward. Jungkook met you in the middle, his lips finding yours. It was a tender kiss, sweet and soft. You broke it off after a couple seconds to giggle, but Jungkook pulled you back into it. He kissed you gently, yet with so much passion. You reciprocated his affection as your fingers intertwined with his hair, deepening the kiss.

He finally pulled away, smiling back at you. To be honest, you wish it lasted longer. However, you knew you would have had a hard time controlling yourself if it did.

“Thank you for dinner,” you thanked him with a soft voice.

“Of course, thank you for accompanying me,” he bowed like a gentleman and kissed your hand. You couldn’t help but laugh at his gesture.

“Too much?” he tilted his head.

“Don’t change a thing,” you continued to laugh.

All sorts of thoughts about Jungkook swam in your mind as you fell asleep that night.

Jungkook soon began to hangout with you every day. When he wasn’t out trying to take pictures, he would be in the bakery keeping you company. Your parents teased him, saying that he better buy something or else they’d kick him out, but they never did. In fact, your mom would always sneak him some freshly baked goods.

After work, you and Jungkook would spend even more time together. It didn’t matter if you guys were exploring nature, cooling off in the stream, or just watching movies; you enjoyed it all. It was nice having someone to talk to for a change. Jungkook never asked to make plans with you, he just assumed you guys would hangout the next day when he said “see ya tomorrow!”

You knew you had a crush on Jungkook, but you didn’t know how he felt. Yes, he took you on a date. Yes, you’ve kissed. Yes, you made in cum in his pants (not necessarily in that order). You were waiting on him to ask you to be his girlfriend. You didn’t want to pressure him, especially when you knew that he’d be going back to school in the fall.

One day, much to your chagrin, Jungkook was helping you with inventory. You argued that he shouldn’t work since he wasn’t getting paid, but he smiled and replied that spending time with you was all the payment he needed. You were too flustered to argue after that.

“Great, everything has been accounted for! Can you help me put this box back up there?” you asked him, nodding your head at a particularly high shelf that was out of your reach. You grabbed a step stool for him to make it easier.

Jungkook lifted up the heavy box of supplies with ease, and placed it back on the shelf. He looked down at you and smiled.

“What?” you cocked your head.

He said nothing as he leaned down and kissed your forehead, “You just look cute from up here.”

You looked away as you blushed, not knowing what to say. Jungkook laughed as he got down from the step stool. He teased you about it for the rest of the day.

Days flew by as it was getting closer and closer to Jungkook’s departure. You let Jungkook decide on what to do during his last day there. He picked you up at the bakery after your shift. He wanted to take one last stroll with you around town before he had to leave. You were about to hug him goodbye when he invited you over, saying that he had a box of popcorn he needed help finishing.

After watching a couple movies, Jungkook had his arms around you as you rested your head on his shoulder. Cuddling had become a norm between you two. Jungkook suddenly nudged your side, causing you to shriek.

“Sorry, just making sure you were still awake,” he giggled.

“I was, but now I definitely am,” you said as you returned the favor and tickled his sides.

It soon became a war of tickling as laughter erupted from both of you. Jungkook was just as ticklish as you were, making it a deadly battle. Before you knew it, you were straddling Jungkook, gripping both of his wrists in your hands. You both stared at each other as the laughter subsided, now replaced with heavy breathing.

“You could easily knock me over, you know,” you said as you lowered your nose to his.

“What if I don’t want to?” he whispered back.

He moved his head upwards to kiss you, catching you by surprise. You kissed him back, pushing him back down. You lowered your hips to rest on his hardened crotch. You let go of his wrists to help him take off his shirt before removing your own.

Once your lips connected again, Jungkook’s hands moved freely over your body, gently caressing your breasts. He treated you so tenderly, it made you even hornier. Your hands reached down to unzip his pants.

“Is this okay?” you paused to ask.

“Only if you take off your pants too,” he answered with a smirk.

Soon enough you were both down to just your underwear. You palmed Jungkook’s erection, curious to see it. It already felt huge in comparison to your hands.

“I want to fuck you, _____,” Jungkook groaned as you kissed his neck.

“I’m glad we want the same thing. Where do you want me?” you cooed.

“Like this is fine,” he quickly answered.

He helped you take off his underwear, revealing his massive dick. Your pussy clenched at the sight of it. You wriggled out of your panties and positioned yourself on top of him.

“Ready?” you asked.

Jungkook just nodded, his eyes wide with anticipation. He gulped as he watched you slowly lower yourself onto him, taking in each inch slowly. You moaned as he went deeper and deeper in you. You hadn’t had sex in a long time (and admittedly it wasn’t very good). Now, you were sopping wet and Jungkook was filling you up perfectly. Once you reached the base of his dick, you took your time going back up.

From the look on Jungkook’s face, he was in pure bliss. You continued to tease him as you fucked him slowly. You transitioned from taking his entire length to just swiveling around his tip, making him moan from the overstimulation. Jungkook dug his nails into your lower back, begging you to take all of him in again.

You leaned back over and peppered kisses along his chest and up his neck. Jungkook whimpered at the sensation, his breathing grew uneven. You giggled at him as you suckled on his neck, leaving wet kisses in your wake. Once you had enough of teasing him, you slammed back down onto him, and both your moans filled the room. Your hips began to move faster as you bounced on top of him. Jungkook’s grip on you tightened.

“I--I’m gonna cum,” he panicked.

You immediately hopped off, hoping to edge him. He whimpered at the loss of your warm pussy, but your plan seemed to work. His eyes begged you to get back on top.

“Now it’s your turn to fuck me,” you demanded as you laid down on your back.

Jungkook complied and positioned himself between your legs. He bent over to kiss you while he pushed his cock back inside of you. He took his time at first, but then tried to pick up the pace. His movements were awkward and stiff, and his pelvis hit your hips in a way that you knew they were going to bruise later.

“Jungkook, just relax,” you commanded.

Jungkook steadied his breathing and took your advice. He was finally able to find a rhythm and stuck to it. Luckily, it was the perfect rhythm for you as he continuously grazed your g-spot. Jungkook moaned with every stroke as your warm insides squeezed around him. You wrapped your legs around him, bringing him even closer. You looked up at him to see that the usual sweet star filled doe eyes of his had switched to a version of pure ecstasy as he gazed down at you with blown out pupils. The change was a little jarring, but also incredibly sexy when you realized the potential duality Jungkook could have. You pulled him into a deep kiss, tongues exploring foreign regions as he pounded into you.

“I’m gonna--,” his breath hitched.

“Cum on me baby,” you panted as you furiously rubbed your clit, desperate to cum with him.

With perfect timing, Jungkook got to feel you cum around him for a few seconds before he had to pull out and finish all over your chest. He gave you a quick peck on the cheek before scurrying off to find something to clean you with.

He rested his head on your chest as you held him close. You were falling asleep when he said something.

“Sorry, what did you say?” you asked him since you barely heard him.

“I am, well I guess was, a virgin,” Jungkook admitted.

“Oh,” you tried to mask your surprise.

“I didn’t wanna say anything. I mean, how lame is it that I’m a college senior and have never gotten laid. You’re probably surprised huh? I’m not lying, I swear.”

“I am surprised, but only because you seem like ladies would be all over you. You’re so handsome, funny, charming--”

“Yes yes keep going,” Jungkook joked.

“--and a genuinely good guy. Plus I feel like being a photographer would help you meet a lot of pretty girls,” you reasoned.

“While all of that is true, the real reason is pretty embarrassing. I’m...I’ve always been kinda scared of girls,” Jungkook sighed as you tried to suppress your laughter, “I’m not kidding! I always get so nervous around girls, I could never actually talk to them.”

“So am I not a girl in your eyes?” you teased.

“You’re a woman,” he answered cockily.

“Shut up! I hope your first time was enjoyable. Thanks for entrusting me with your v card,” you laughed.

You both continued joking and laughing the night away until you fell asleep in each other’s arms. While that night was enjoyable, it made Jungkook’s absence hurt more.

Life had sunk back into the same mundane routines once Jungkook left. Of course, he still kept in touch. He would text and video call you as often as he could. He’d send you pictures of his newest shooting locations, and you’d always be the first person he’d show his finished products.

You loved witnessing Jungkook’s passion grow, he had a new spark in him that wasn’t there before. With your encouragement as an extra shove, he applied to his dream job. He explained to you that it was with an agency that would send him to a random country where he’d work with a participating magazine company. You secretly envied him for even having the possibility of exploring the world.

Days and weeks started to blend together. Your parents insisted on having you help out more in the kitchen, presumably to get your mind off of Jungkook.

It was a weird fling you had with him. However, it also didn’t seem like a fling. Most flings didn’t still keep in touch in a long distance “friendship”, or whatever it was you had. You were never officially dating, but it sure as hell felt that way. You cursed yourself for waiting for him to ask, you should’ve just done it yourself. Of course, part of you felt like you’d just hold him back if you guys actually ended up dating.

These thoughts constantly swarmed your mind. Ironically, the only time you weren’t thinking about your dilemma was when you were chatting with Jungkook. The end of the semester was quickly approaching, and you could tell that he was getting antsy. He hadn’t gotten offers from anywhere that he applied. You could do nothing but give him hope but assuring him that someone somewhere will hire him.

You watched snow fall outside when you got a call.

“I GOT IN!!!” Jungkook exclaimed.

“What?! Where?!” you jumped up in excitement.

“My top choice! The one where they send me to another country! Guess where I’m going,” he sing songed.

“Umm… Italy?”

“Close! I’m going to España,” he said with a spanish accent.

“That’s amazing, Jungkook. I’m so proud of you! I knew you could do it. When do you leave?” you asked.

“In a week. God, I’m so excited! Oh, my parents are calling. I’ll talk to you later?”

“Of course. Congrats again,” you cheered before he hung up.

Before you knew it, you were crying. You were honestly happy for Jungkook, but reality hit you. You were never going to be able to tell him that you loved him. You were never going to be with him, not while you’re stuck in this town. It sucked, but you had no choice but to accept that.

Two days had passed since that phone call. Jungkook was probably busy packing and working out minor details, so you stayed out of his way. You figured things would probably be like this from now on. Why would he bother talking to a small town girl while he’s out exploring the world?

You were restocking the milk puddings rolls when the front bell chimed.

“I’ll be with you in a second,” you called out.

“No worries, I’ll wait all day if I have to,” a familiar voice responded.

You dropped the rolls as you turned around with lightning fast speed. Jungkook stood at the doorway, beaming a big bunny smile at you. You ran to him, embracing him in a tight hug. He wrapped his arms around you and kissed your forehead.

“Surprise,” he smiled.

“What are you doing here?” you asked as you wiped tears from your eyes.

“I needed to see you. I was planning on coming back and surprising you even before I left. You didn’t think I’d leave without saying goodbye, did you?” he ruffled your hair, “Oh, and those tiger flowers are beautiful,” he nodded over to the flower bouquet on the checkout counter.

“I got them because they reminded me of you,” you blushed, your ears turning red.

“Did I hear Jungkook?” you mom poked her head out of the kitchen, “Oh my goodness! Honey look! Jungkook is back!” she called your dad.

Your parents came out to greet him. He explained everything to them, and they congratulated him.

“How long will you be here? Aren’t you leaving soon?” your dad inquired.

“I leave tomorrow night. I wish I could stay longer,” Jungkook answered solemnly.

“____ suddenly doesn’t have to work until after you’ve left,” your mom smiled fondly at you.

Your eyes lit up as you kissed your parents on the cheek to thank them. After grabbing your jacket, you took Jungkook’s hand and dragged him out. You both aimlessly walked around the town as you chatted. He went more in depth with the details of his job. He was most excited about capturing photos of the city. After looking up some pictures of the architecture, he immediately fell in love with Madrid.

Jungkook invited you over to watch some of the short films he worked on over the past semester. While they were just videos of his friends with no plot, you could feel their friendship seeping through the screen. The way Jungkook played with music and colors really enhanced the already well shot video. You felt at peace sitting beside Jungkook on his bed as he showed you all his past projects. Part of you wished that this moment would never end.

“You’ve made me a better person, you know,” Jungkook said out of nowhere, “I’m more talkative around my friends, and I’ve gotten more comfortable with being myself.”

“I didn’t do anything, that’s all you,” you smiled as you poked his chest.

“You definitely helped,” he ran his fingers through your hair, “I love you, ____.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“I love you too. I thought I’d never get to say that,” you said with a sigh of relief.

He looked into your eyes before leaning forward slowly. You’ve been waiting for this moment for so long, you practically pounced on him. You kissed him passionately, as if to show him how much you missed him. Clothes were thrown in every direction leading to bare skin being exposed.

Jungkook’s soft hands roamed across your body as if he were trying to memorize your every curve. His touch was a bit rougher than the last time, his lips crashed against yours as he pinched your nipples. You couldn’t tell if it was desperation, carnal lust, or just a new side of Jungkook, but you didn’t mind in the slightest. His erection pressed against your thigh as your hands tangled themselves in his dark hair. You reached down to grab his cock, gripping from the base and slowly dragging your hand to the tip and then back down. He shuddered at the sensation, moaning into your mouth.

“Should I get on top?” you batted your eyes.

“Nope, I have a better idea,” Jungkook growled as he flipped you over onto your knees, “Can I fuck you like this?”

“Fuck me however you want,” you answered gleefully.

Jungkook rammed into you without hesitation. He firmly gripped your hips to keep you in place as he thrusted into you. His dick sent waves of ecstasy as he crashed into you. He surprised you when he reached his hand around you to play with your clit, causing you to squirm under him.

“Be a good girl and stay still,” he ordered.

His newfound dominance turned you on. He was no longer the baby boy that followed your every move, although you were sure that side of him was still there somewhere. You got lost in pleasure and didn’t realize how far gone you were till you felt liquid dripping down your inner thighs.

“You’re so fucking wet baby. All this for me?” Jungkook panted as he continued snapping his hips into you.

“Mhm, of course. Only for you,” you managed to moan out between thrusts.

“That’s my good girl. Get up,” he demanded as he hopped off the bed.

You obeyed, curious as to what he was going to do. As soon as you got off the bed, he spun you around and pushed your chest back over the covers. He slipped back into you with ease, groaning as your slick juices coated his cock. This new position enabled Jungkook to directly hit your g-spot with each thrust. Again, his hand wrapped around your waist to find your clit. His other hand found purchase on your neck, slightly choking you. The overstimulation had you crying out in bliss that you had never experienced before.

You were practically gushing now as your wetness ran down your legs and sprayed onto Jungkook’s thighs with each strong impact. Jungkook lifted up one of your legs onto the bed, spreading your pussy.

“Now touch yourself for me,” Jungkook directed.

He didn’t have to tell you twice. Your legs started to shake as you played with your clit at the perfect pace while Jungkook drilled into you. You were sure that you had already came numerous times by this point, but you could feel the grand finale soon approaching.

“Jungkook I--” you didn’t get a chance to finish your sentence as you climaxed onto his dick. He was infatuated with the way you looked from behind, and he couldn’t get enough of it. He pushed you back onto the bed with your legs still hanging from the edge. He reinserted himself while you laid there, completely delusional from the pounding you had been receiving.

“You’re such a sexy woman,” he moaned as he anchored the weight of his arms onto your shoulders.

He continued his torment downwards. Your bountiful cheeks bounced back and forth while he repeatedly rammed into your g-spot causing you to release more of the juices his massive cock craved.

He slowed his pace but still kept going to help you ride out your high for as long as possible. The sensation of you cumming on him was enough to bring him right to the brink of no return.

“Can I cum on you?” he pleaded in a tone all too familiar to you.

“Please do,” you nodded.

“God, you’re so sexy,” he said as he gave you a couple more hard thrusts before pulling out and coating your ass with white strings.

Jungkook held you in his arms after wiping you down with a towel, both of your chests heaving in sync. You both managed to work up a sweat, but Jungkook still smelled amazing. He played with your hair as your eyelids started to get heavy.

“_____,” he whispered softly.

“Yes, Jungkook?” you replied with your eyes still closed.

“Come with me.”

“What?” your eyes shot open.

“Come with me to Spain. I know it sounds crazy, but I don’t care. You’ll finally get the adventure you’ve always wanted, and we’ll do it together,” he kissed your forehead.

His unexpected proposition had you overwhelmed. You were speechless. You would go with him in a heartbeat. It wouldn’t matter where you’d go, as long as you were with him.

“Jungkook...you know I can’t do that,” you fought back tears, nuzzling yourself further into his chest.

“I wanted to ask your parents as soon as I arrived but you rushed me out too quickly and--”

“I can’t leave them, you know that,” silent tears rolled down your cheeks.

“I think they’d understand. Plus, you’ve said that they’ve tried to convince you to go to college,” Jungkook was getting desperate, he thought you’d agree on the spot.

“They need my help now more than ever. My parents are getting old. As much as I want to leave this place, I can’t. I’m going to be stuck here forever. I’m so sorry, Jungkook,” you wept.

“It’s okay, ___. We can ask them tomorrow, how does that sound?” he rubbed your back.

“No, I can’t do that to them. You know they’ll say yes. I have to stay,” you sniffled.

“You’re a great daughter. I can’t force you to come with me. I’ll miss you. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone,” Jungkook’s voice started to falter.

“Don’t worry about me. Go live out your life. Eat great food. Take beautiful pictures. Meet pretty girls,” you tried to lighten the mood.

“You think I want to meet pretty girls? Why would I do that when I have you,” he hugged you tightly.

“We aren’t even dating, Jungkook. I don’t want to hinder you more than I already have,” you blurted.

“I...I know we aren’t dating. Not officially. But that’s just a stupid label. I want to be with you,” Jungkook’s voice softened to hide his pain.

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” you said as you got up.

Jungkook immediately pulled you back into him. Your nose brushed against his wet cheek, causing you to freeze up when you realized that he had also been crying.

“Please stay with me. At least just for tonight,” he pleaded.

“Alright. I can do that,” you softly kiss him.

You woke up the next morning with your head on Jungkook’s chest. Jungkook looked adorable while he was asleep, with his mouth agape and his hair falling messily over his forehead. You tried to inch away, but he just pulled you closer, making it impossible to escape.

He woke up with a yawn a couple minutes later. He smiled down at you before ruffling your hair.

“Jungkook, I’m sorry about last night. I--”

“Let’s not talk about it. This is my last day with you for god knows how long. Let’s just enjoy ourselves, okay?” he interrupted you.

It had been three years since that spring when you met Jungkook. You sometimes reminisce about the times you had with Jeon Jungkook. It honestly felt like a dream. Communication with him slowly faded away, and now the only conversations you had with him were one message long during birthdays and holidays. You kept up with him more through Instagram. He regularly uploaded his beautiful pictures, and you could tell that his talent only grew. He had a knack for making dull buildings and streets come to life.

Your parents planned to retire soon, leaving you to tend to the bakery by yourself. They mainly managed the front-of-house work during the busy hours now. Their goal was to finally sell the bakery, but you protested against it. As much as you wanted to be rid of the chains that tied you down, you were scared. You didn’t know what you would do if the bakery was suddenly gone. It was all you’ve ever known.

Ever since your parents announced their retirement plans, you started to dabble in pastry making. They were impressed with your skills, and your creations got added to the menu. Word spread that the already famous bakery was now carrying delicious pastries, and business soared.

You were busy decorating your latest desserts when your mother came into the kitchen.

“Your father and I have to go run a quick errand, we’ll be back soon!” she said before giving you time to protest. You grumbled to yourself as you placed strawberries on your cakes, praying that no one would come in.

“Hello? Anyone here? The sign says open,” someone called from the front.

‘God dammit’, you thought before putting on a fake customer service smile.

“Welcome to--” you stopped in your tracks.

Jungkook was standing in the middle of your bakery, looking even more handsome than you had remembered him. His face lit up as soon as he saw you. You couldn’t help yourself as you ran towards him, colliding into him with a forceful hug.

“I hear you sell desserts now,” he grinned.

“Jungkook! What are you doing here? Your hair, it’s so long! And...do you have tattoos now?!” you were in shock.

“Do I look more artsy now?” he laughed, “I came to see you. I wanted to try your desserts too, of course. No one would believe me when I said nothing can compare to your family’s bakery. Oh, I have a present for you.”

You became giddy with excitement as Jungkook brought out a brown paper bag and handed it to you. You pulled out prints of a beautiful girl standing in a forest. Wait...it looked familiar…

“Is this me?” you asked as your mouth hung open.

“Yeah, these are the pictures from when you took me on that picnic. Would you believe me if I said I barely had to touch anything up? They were already nearly perfect,” Jungkook said proudly.

“It’s because you’re a talented photographer,” you smiled.

“That, and because I had the perfect model. How could I not ask the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen to model for me?” he said as he tucked your hair behind your ear.

“So I wasn’t just practice?” you recalled asking him about it all those years ago.

“I was so nervous back then, I couldn’t bring myself to tell you the truth,” he laughed, “I’m much more open now.”

You promptly switched the ‘OPEN’ sign to ‘CLOSED’ and sat Jungkook down. You brought out one of your fresh strawberry cakes, eager to hear his opinion. His face contorted with pleasure as he took the first bite. He complimented the flavors and textures, saying that everything tasted like perfect harmony. You laughed together as he shared stories of his time abroad. He intently listened while you opened up about the struggles of the bakery.

“Anyway, that’s enough complaining for now. I’m happy you’re back! How long are you staying for this time?” you tilted your head.

“Depends,” Jungkook answered as he gazed out the window. He looked back at you with a serious expression. He quickly grabbed your hand and pulled you close, bringing your face just inches away from his.

“Do you still want to explore the world?” he asked.

“Of course, that’ll never change. But...you know I can’t,” you answered somberly.

“After everything you just told me, you still think you have to stay here?” Jungkook raised an eyebrow, “My next gig is going to be in France. Come with me this time, _____.”

You stared at him with a stunned expression. You thought he had forgotten about you. Now here he is, asking you to run away with him again.

“Why did you lose touch? I thought you had moved on. I made peace with that. God, it hurt like hell, but I came to terms with it. And now we’re doing this again,” your voice cracked as tears welled in your eyes.

“Honestly, it hurt me too much. I couldn’t bear talking to you every day or video chatting you, without knowing when I’d see you next. I never stopped thinking about you. I tried. I tried to forget...but no one could ever come close to you,” Jungkook cupped your cheek in his palm, “There’s a really good patissiere academy close to where I’ll be working. You could go there and sharpen your skills! Then maybe one day open up a bakery of your own...if you wanted.”

“But what about my parents--”

“Stop using us as an excuse to hold yourself back,” your mom scolded you as she entered the bakery.

“Did you like your surprise?” your dad winked.

“You knew?” you were bewildered.

“Jungkook contacted us a while back, asking if we thought his plan could ever be a possibility. I figured you were still head over heels for him since you never dated anyone else,” your mom shrugged.

“If you want to go, go. Don’t worry about us. We can sell the bakery, and finally retire,” your dad said.

“You have your parents’ blessing, ____. This decision is entirely up to you. What’s it gonna be? Will you come with me to France?” Jungkook asked again.

“I..,” you looked at your parents before your eyes wandered back to Jungkook, “Yes. I’d love to,” tears of joy rolled down your cheeks.

Jungkook got up and embraced you in a tight hug before he whispered, “I’ve missed you so much,” in your ear.

“Well, we better start packing,” Jungkook turned to your parents.

“Packing? Already?” your eyes widened.

“We leave by the end of the week!” Jungkook gleefully took your hand and dashed out of the store.

Jungkook dragged you through the town up to your house. You couldn’t help but smile as you watched his long hair bounce around while you ran. You could’ve sworn that sometimes they looked like bunny ears.

He was definitely Jungkook, but he seemed like the upgraded version of the shy boy you once knew. He had a new confident aura around him, and he seemed more manly than boyish now. Everything was happening so quickly, but you were nothing but excited for the adventures to come.

As long as Jungkook was by your side, you were ready to take on the world.

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giraffefeather · 2 months ago

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Wait wait wait, I just reread the quarry descriptions and yes, I've swam in both those quarries.

Quarry 11 was the family swimming hole, and Dead Man's Quarry (Quarry 2, but we just called it the cliff quarry) was where all the teens and young adults hung out, the smell of pot usually heavy in the air. I remember chickening out at the top of the cliff dive, because I was told you had to jump in the right spot or you'd hit a rock and die. There were also rumors that certain spots in that quarry would suck you down. I remember treading water until I was tired then clinging to a ledge because the quarry was so deep. I explored the forest and found a few old ruins, a stone house perimeter with maybe a crumbling fireplace remaining, nothing else. I climbed up rocks next to the dry quarries, peering over dizzying edges.

God I miss the quarries. I think I stopped going around college. There were so many news stories about bodies being found in various quarries. I suppose that always happened, I just never paid attention.

At college, there were so many rumors of underground tunnels. I mean, we took some tunnels (and skyways) to class every day. But there were supposedly deeper ones, ones inaccessible due to walled over doors or filled in entrances. I never knew about Pantown. I suppose I was too old to have the chance to explore them anyway; they were probably sealed before my time.

St Cloud was the place to be in my teenage years. All the small town kids nearby went to Cloud for everything. (Reading reviews of this book calling St Cloud a small time boggled my mind - St Cloud was the city hub of the area, not so large as the cities, sure, but it had all the city luxuries).

I just can't wrap my head around the mysteries of the area I grew up in. Things I never knew. Urban legends come true. To be honest, though, the murders were the least surprising part. St Cloud was always known for crime by the surrounding areas. That's where everyone went to get drugs. That's where you made sure to lock your car, even though we didn't do it anywhere else. My first apartment was in Cloud, and despite being at the edge of town, I was careful to never be out alone at night. We all heard the constant crime reports, murders and rapes and muggings, from the area.

I wonder if it was much different in the 70s. If crime was an anomaly, not the norm. If the Ryker murders fictionalized in the book shocked the town, or if it was par for the course (like, unfortunately, I think it would have been in my time there).

Can't forget the prison, either. Or correctional facility to be more correct. I drove past it every day to get to college. Read the "don't pick up hitchhikers sign" on my commute. It was so normal to see, and I sometimes forget perspective, that maybe driving 10 feet from a prison wall isn't something most people do daily.

Since we're reminiscing on completely normal things, what about the nuclear power plant right next to my (second, after the quarries) favorite park? The nuclear power plant that was so normal in my town. When my parents moves in, they were given iodine pills as a precaution, in case the power plant had an accident. Everyone had those pills. I've heard they don't distribute them anymore. In school, we dedicated a whole quarter to the nuclear power debates, where we would be assigned a side and have to debate whether nuclear power was good or bad. I don't remember which side I was on, only that the whole thing seemed silly at the time. Why argue about the thing that powered our city, something that seemed so commonplace? And honestly, the water treatment plant with its strong sewer smell bothered everyone much more than the power plant. I always thought we should debate about that instead.

"The Quarry Girls" by Jess Lourey

Having grown up in the area, and attended St Cloud State University, I have so many thoughts and feelings on this one. There's history I never knew, a familiar place with all the comforts and discomforts I remember, and a crime that may as well be true.

I kept wondering if I've visited Quarry 11, or swam in Dead Man's Quarry. If the teen hangout spots I spent every summer at were the same ones in the book.

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razorsadness · 3 years ago

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One of the “Chicago Stories,” from Safety Pin Girl #22, c. late 2003/early 2004

[text ID under cut]

II. Cycles

In some ways, my life these past few months has been very similar to my life a few years ago. My friends are divided between Wisconsin and Chicago. I take the commuter train from Kenosha to Chicago, back and forth, a few times a week. I’ve been spending a lot of time on Belmont Avenue, hanging out (to drink strong coffee and eat seasoned fries) at the Pick Me Up. I drink a lot, too.

But in most ways, the core of it, my life is not the same at all. I am at a different school, one that is actually teaching me things I want to know, one that I don’t feel quite so suffocated at. I may drink a lot, but I do it more in a social, let’s all be crazy and dance and make out kinda way, as opposed to a “sitting alone in my dorm room, starting the alcohol consumption at three p.m., drinking so I forget to cut myself” way. I got back and forth between Wisconsin and Chicago, sure, but I don’t feel like I’m running away, I’m just commuting. I don’t have the boyfriend I had back then. I spend a lot of time on Belmont, but at Clarke’s now—because the Kokomo, the coffee shop I frequented in those days, has been closed for a couple years. Of course, when I pass by the storefront (that’s now a trendy shoestore), I swear I can see the shadows of my old friends, of my old self (she’s got a Chelsea fringe and a plaid skirt; she’s huddled into her hoodie and chainsmoking to try and distract herself from the fact that she hasn’t eaten all day) peering out the windows, leaving greasy fingerprints on the glass. But that’s another story. I go to Clarke’s now instead and make eyes at the cute short waiter with the labret piercing and the Radiohead button, and I work on my novel.

The main difference between now and then, though, is the fact that I am happy. I am actually, truly happy. 2003 was one of the hardest, craziest years of my life, right up there with the year 2000, but I’m a stronger person than I was at age eighteen. And I’m just god damn happier. Back then, I always felt like I was essentially a sad, depressed girl, who had a few happy moments now and then, and I would suck on those moments like hard candy until they dissolved in my mouth and there was nothing left but a bitter white coating on my tongue. Now, I still get depressed, bad things still happen to me, but I believe that my life is good, and I am a generally happy person who just has to deal with shittiness sometimes. My whole worldview has flipped. This is a good thing. It keeps me from being self-centered and whiny.

Right now I work and go to school in Chicago and live in Wisconsin. The commute between Kenosha and Ogilvie Transportation Center can be stressful, especially on Monday mornings when I have to be at the train station before it’s even light out. I’d do anything for just a few more minutes in bed. Instead I pour coffee into my Fuel mug, grab a handful of roasted almonds or some such thing, get in my car and drive to the train. It’s a little strange, the only other people on the roads are other commuters, or people who have to work early in the factories. The sky is just beginning to be tinted with orange at the very edges, above Lake Michigan, the rest of the sky is still navy blue, the moon is still hanging on for another hour. It’s strange because, most other nights, I don’t even get home and go to sleep until a couple hours before I have to get up on Mondays. Once I’m on the train, I put my headphones on, and make some sort of pathetic attempt to do some college-related reading. But usually I end up falling asleep before we even get to Waukegan.

On Wednesday mornings, when I don’t have to wake up quite so early, I don’t always fall asleep on the train. Sometimes I actually get writing done, or I’ll just listen to my headphones and look out the window, watching all the towns fly past. Some of the towns are fancy, full of large houses made of brown stones, downtowns sprinkled with expensive boutiques and cafes. Many of the towns are run-down, dirty, I see downtowns littered with dive bars and strip clubs; peer into backyards where wet clothes on the clotheslines are flapping in the breeze, backyards decorated with broken toys and the rusted-out shells of cars. The train blasts its whistle as we fly through the dawn light.

By the time I get on the train to come back home, I’m usually so exhausted I’m ready to drop, only I can’t sleep, because my brain is buzzing with everything I’ve done in the last couple days and I have to write or forget it all. On Thursday evenings, I’m delirious, coz I stay with K. and A. on Wednesday nights and we are crazy girls, we don’t sleep, we prefer to stay up late in the warm, dry apartment that’s all decorated with Mexican folkart and mutilated dolls, smoking cigarettes and drinking cheap champagne and dancing to World/Inferno. And when there is no room left in the front of the train that’s about to travel the Metra Union Pacific North Line, I have to sit in the back with all the stuck-up businessmen and women, where the seats are softer and blue instead of orange, and the bathrooms don’t have quite as strong a stench. They mostly look at my like I’m the scum of the earth, when one of them has to squeeze in next to me, they keep their bodies clenched as close to the other side of the seat as possible. They must think I have cooties. Sometimes, there will be some businessman in Brooks Brothers suit and spit-shined shoes who thinks, “Oh, punk rock chick, she must be freaky in bed,” and I think, “Yeah, maybe I am, but you’ll never fuckin find out, mister.” He rubs his leg against mine gently, so gently that I am almost left thinking it’s my imagination, I must be crazy. He tries to make small talk with me, ask me: “So, what’re you writing, dollface?” “A story.” “A story about what?” “A story about this girl who chops a guy’s cock off, steals it, and holds it hostage.” I watch his face turn purple and then he does what they all do, slide himself as far away from me as possible.

Once, I was sitting on one of those fancy blue seats, and my period had started that day. I hadn’t been prepared for it, and I was bleeding right through my black skirt, blood pouring out between my thighs all hot and sticky and brown. It was very satisfying, bleeding on that train.

I’ve been staying with K. and A. every Wednesday night, and I have become so close to them. I love those girls, they’re two of my favorite people in the whole world, and soon I will be moving in with them. I can’t wait. As it is, we already spend so many hours together that we’ve started bleeding at the same time.

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tcthetouch · 4 years ago

Text

@mapleviewstarters

𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑, 𝚜𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚢 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔 – 𝚜𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑 ... 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚘𝚐𝚜 .

『 nicole kidman. forty-eight. cis woman. she/her. 』 oh heavens, is that CORA WHITWORTH from FAIR LANE i see roaming around mapleview? minnie may’s always calling them -DECEITFUL & -MATERIALISTIC. i happen to think they’re not that bad! they’re a pretty cool FORMER MADAM, CURRENT... “ACCOUNTANT” and every time i’ve seen them, they’ve always been +NURTURING & +RESOURCEFUL. i hope i see them around again! 『 may. 21.est. she/her. 』

did her parents name her after cora taylor ? no, kae and i just decided they’re dumb enough to name all their kids ‘c’ names. did i, trying to come up with ‘c’ names, name her after cora taylor ? yes.

background

triggers: prostitution (anything triggering that often goes with it is either very very skimmed over or not mentioned at all), pimping, possessiveness (is that the right word to use)/implied abuse?, drugs/briefly mentioned accidental fatal overdose (but if it makes it better the dude sucked)

honestly ? the triggers may imply there were worse things that happened in cora’s life, but... no. the worst thing that happened in her life was being born to the whitworths. not because they were like... jerks. but because they named everyone ‘c’ names. THAT’S THE REAL TRAGEDY IN THIS STORY.

Also. The first half of this intro is :\ a downer :\ but the second half is * thumbs up emoji * * money emoji * like the tone change is AMAZING.

Anyway, on the topic of the Whitworths, they weren’t bad parents! But they also weren’t stupendous parents! They were just largely… not around. So where Clara filled the love she wished to get with… flowers, Cora was like “I will try to fill mine with validation from external forces and… I don’t know, maybe adventure? Probably not.

Also scorpio sun, taurus moon bc astrology?? Ugh we luv it.

So she was decent. But she was bored. She wanted to do something interesting, not just mope around in their small town with the very few subcultures they had.

When she was 18, she decided that the small town life was simply Not For Her. much like my boy stephen crane, she wanted to actually study humanity. She packed up, of all places she could’ve “studied humanity,” she chose Washington, D.C.

But… you see… when you don’t have funds, a consistent source of income, or… really anymore than $20… you’re gonna study humanity SO WELL. Like, she was so set up to really study and experience humanity!

Let it be known… her parents obviously weren’t awful enough to be like “yes, go stay with questionable figures! you reap what you sow!” - no, they just… forgot!

A few people who she did not know offered a couch for the night. It was through various experiences among these folks, along with some general strange advice, that Cora realized she could enter a silently booming industry: sex work. The people she stayed with were usually very familiar with where the nearest red light districts were, some familiar with how to best tell undercover cops from regular johns. So she took this into serious consideration. She was still young – it seemed like a viable option, right? Easy money!

Turns out… it wasn’t! There are some strange people out there, aren’t there?

However, it did temporarily provide enough funds for Cora to rent a dingy little apartment. Until this one night when a man brought her back – but instead of proposing sex, as was obviously expected, he proposed a different idea: she join his ‘club.’ There’d be more protection, the pay would be even more lucrative, she’d have somewhere better to live within a matter of months… so, god, dear god, it didn’t take much thought for her to take him up on the offer.

Of course, he was a pimp. So… you know, things weren’t actually much better, but the clientele were richer! He didn’t lie about that part!

After around a year of captivity being pimped, this man took further interest in her as she became one of the more popular choices amongst his girls. He simply couldn’t let the star only be had by rich clientele! Yes, he slept with plenty of his girls, but she became favored as he began treating her as more of a girlfriend (with a creepy age different) who… you know, he still pimped out!

Being ‘closer’ to him was both advantageous and detrimental. Advantageous in that she witnessed more of the business side and various clients were rejected, detrimental in that… having to spend so much time with him, he introduced her to a world that was even worse. In spite of where she’d been for so many years by that point, she never really thought of drugs or gambling or anything else the underbelly provided other than sex work. But he introduced her to that side.

I’ll go easy on this, but… drugs. Period.

After another year of what seemed like something inescapable, now made worse, the best possible thing happened: he overdosed.

Y’all, we’re mostly out of the downer part of the intro!

With the money she’d gained being one of his stars, as well as that extra money he offered to keep her near, she knew what she had to do. Like… after a while, but we can skip that probably three-month-long gap: start her own brothel!

Using the money she’d received, she rented out a cheap empty building in one of the cheap red light districts. As far as most were concerned, what was once a bar was being converted into a nightclub. Which was, of course, a lie. A good front.

On the verge of bankruptcy by the time it was ready, she was most certainly desperate! But, lucky for her, one of the girls from her old pimp’s bordello followed her in. Soon enough, word spread amongst the community she’d once been so distant from – soon enough, her “nightclub” was filling up.

She would always have to pay thanks to the dead pimp, in a way. Had it not been for him and for how possessive he’d become, she wouldn’t have had a single clue on how to actually run it. And while she was still rocky at first, she gradually became better and better until she was on equal footing with other madams or pimps and was able to gauge clientele just as well.

In addition, had it not been for him, she wouldn’t have realized what was missing! Condoms were provided and deemed a necessity (although, to be fair, it wasn’t as though she knew everything that happened behind doors), the rooms that existed within the “nightclub” were listened to as well as possible to prevent violence (but rooms in other places? hotels, houses? nothing could be ensured, only hoped for - and hoped to be reported if anything happened so the client could be turned away), etc., etc. Ultimately, her girls were more her surrogate daughters – no matter how close or distant in age – than her paychecks.

But lmao she still took a hefty cut of their pay – a whole-ass 55% – less than what her pimp took, but still a LOT for performing no actions. And ss the brothel became more and more popular, that was SO DAMN MUCH. Just per WEEK, really!!

Everything was going so well!! For ten years, the brothel ran with minimal police interference. There were attempts at take-downs, but the brothel began to work like a well-oiled machine – true proof became rather difficult to find.

Until it wasn’t. Until they were clearly closing in. Until Cora was barely getting out by the skin of her teeth. If she and her girls were arrested… not only would they go to jail and all, but all of that money and all of that time? Wasted.

So she handed the keys over to the first girl who would take them – luckily, the girl she would never tell the others was the star (but… the others knew). Her official excuse? She was returning to North Carolina due to a family emergency (one that didn’t exist). If she just randomly fled, she’d certainly be guilty!

Catching word that Clara had wound up in Mapleview, Cora decided to lie low in the small town herself.

And yes, I made the TikTok meme real. Yes, she’s an “accountant.”

Only not really, she doesn’t use OnlyFans. Whenever she’s “commuting” to that place accountants work… she’s in some one town or another in the mountains, scouting talent. will there be a “nightclub” in mapleview soon?? actually probably not bc it’s so small. but one nearby?? YES!!

Old habits die hard!

But May, she may’ve been able to live off of the madam money for a few years, but it must’ve run out by now?

You’re right! I’m currently doing more research into this, but some years ago, she bought out and now owns a nightclub in Asheville!

But May, isn’t that a little far away to be there everyday? And what about her plans? And why would she still have to say she’s an accountant if being a nightclub owner isn’t taboo?

She has hired a manager she trusts greatly and goes down there to oversee things in person perhaps only twice a week! The manager reports to her!

The manager also knows of her plans and aids her in scouting talent! And she does have dirt on the manager as a backup!

And, considering what the club will be turned into, it’s best to keep it mum!

Honestly there are some other things I want to say, but I just remembered Tumblr’s read-more feature broke :)

tl;dr

(consult trigger list! much lighter in this portion but jic!) born to whitworths who weren’t awful parents but also weren’t stupendous parents i think they just sometimes forgot they were parents! decided to pull a stephen crane and go “study humanity” instead of like… go to college or enter the workforce… wound up in d.c. without much money. ppl in the sus districts were like “omg stay with me! s2g nthn creepy j offering a hand!” which was mostly true! some were like “sex work is lucrative.” she was like “omg ur right.” a young cora became a streetwalker. around 21, one of the johns was like “hi im not actually a john im a pimp do u want to be pimped it’s really cool.” and she was like “omg ya.” but he was pinocchio :\ that being said i feel like i shld mention that while this particular sex work wasn’t necessarily clean, guy at least made testing a thing. some years pass and he’s like “ur great im gonna act like ur my gf and that i’m the only person in ur world but also u still have to sleep w these guys bc i do love money.” good thing about that was that she overheard some of the business talk. bad thing was that he sucked and also liked even seedier things. some years go by and seedier things kill him tho! now catch cora, late 20s or early 30s idk, being like “well with this money… oh wow i have an idea.” was like “gonna convert this cheap empty place into a brothel i mean nightclub.” was almost broke after that but one of the pimp’s girls was like “wait i’ll come along!” soon had a lot of ppl. soon became successful and was actually as humane as a brothel cld be!! evaded the police narrowly, but evaded them. they started rly closing in at one point tho so she was like “oh no family emergency in nc here my best girl i mean u, girl, u r now in charge idk how that works my pimp just died.” went to mapleview. is an “accountant” and by “accountant” i mean that tiktok meme only more extreme bc she’s being a talent scout. old habits… die hard…

personality/misc.

if this bitch ain’t able 2 make her own way,,,, idk who is. (after moving to dc bc u kno financial status in boone wasnt awful or anything) real rags to riches story. benjamin franklin wld be so proud. she found the way to wealth.

probs sleeps on silk sheets covered in rose petals??

tbh tho?? absolute contradiction. manages 2 care a lot and also not care at all. rly depends on where the person stands. rly depends on the relatability. wld probs be a good mom but has no plans of becoming one!!!!!!!! too busy being an accountant!!!!!!

what,, is trust?? what,, is love?? (baby don’t hurt me)

i’m flying by the seat of my pants rn i suddenly got v distracted but!! maybe more will be added when tumblr FIXES ITS DAMN SELF.

connection ideas:

well we got the rest of her siblings over on the npc page and honestly w how different it seems clara and cora turned out,,,, wld be so curious 2 learn wtf everyone else is doing. r they being normal or r they also wilding??? j in different ways??? (0/2)

i’m hesitant to say someone she’s a parental figure to bc honestly,,, those exhaust me sometimes ahfdslk,,, but!! u kno what someone she’s ironically a good influence on (0/2?)

she got a mostly friendly front but bitch!! someone she’s a bad influence on!! (0/2)

some current or past flings (any gender, but keeping age in mind, past wld be like 43+ pls,,,current like 40+?) (0/?)

if anyone lived in boone, some old friends from boone (0/?)

if anyone lived in dc, some ppl she knew in dc (0/?)

also always up for brainstorming or j working off of chemistry!!

feel free to like this or hmu if you’d like to plot !

#mapleviewintro #cora .#cora | intro .#IM SO SORRY THIS IS SO LONG AND THE READ MORE IS BROKEN IM SO SORRY.#IM VERBOSE.#also i feel like i shld make it known somewhere that i spent. most of the day yesterday researching this career so i can get it as #right as i can w/out having firsthand experience and that's j 2 say. if i ever fuck up. i am deeply sorry.

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thorsstorms · 5 years ago

Text

Abroad Pt. 19

Summary: Being the Hemsworth Kids’ Nanny, you were vowed to keep it strictly professional for their sake, but do the stolen glances go unnoticed between you both?

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: y’all know I’m a bitch for angst by now right?

A/N: @hildehuffles this ones for you. ALSO. THE YOUTUBE CHANNEL IM TALKING ABOUT IS YES THEORY. I was in Venice a couple weeks ago, and felt like adding in a little get away like I had done. I told no one I was going and literately hopped on a plane with an Airbnb secured. #SeekDiscomfort also one of the best trips to LA I had ever taken. 10/10 recommend.

Masterlist

Your eyes were glued to the generously sized television screen mounted on the wall, holding the flimsy bottle of water tight in your hands. The conversation took a swift turn with only a sentence spoken and it was the two of you dressed at the premier that was painting the background. You knew she was only doing this to tease him, and the sly comments he made in turn settled your nerves.

“So Chris… Who? Who‘s that?” His eyes were drawn to the monitor, not startled at all by her outburst but calm, with a telltale pink tint creeping up and a squinty eyed smile trying to stay buried.

The crowd whoops in retaliation.

He stayed silent a moment more, staring at the monitor, thinking of a way to answer until the crowd calms down. The comedian looks mischievous, obviously taking pride in his suffering though she knows exactly who you are now. The crowd doesn’t need to know that detail. She only means to tease, it’s who she was!

He folds his hands, rubbing them together before simply saying, “I have never seen that woman in my life.” Obviously joking.

“Oh come on!” she pushed, glowing eyes with a smile stretching across her cheeks.

“Yea, yea. That is my girly-friend, you could say. It’s-It’s weird to say that because I feel like she’s more than just a girlfriend, you know?” He glances again back at the large picture behind him before running a hand down the side of his face, focusing back forwards. He knows you are just watching the screen, glued to the screen at that, in the green room. He didn't know what you were thinking! It could go one of two ways in his mind. Absolutely silently losing your mind or laughing in retaliation to his discomfort of not knowing what to say. Hopefully the latter.

“Oh! I know.” She jokes, full on laughing at him while he smirks but stares daggers playfully. She knows you were more than just a girlfriend in his mind now, but how could he resist the shot of you meeting and hugging Ellen Degeneres and not stick the ring up and snap a photo of the moment while you were faced away? She was a trustworthy person, or so he hoped. Not proven wrong so far.

“Okay, Okay,” she settles herself. “So tell me, where did you find her?” She was keen to the details.

“Uhh- The internet,” he says without missing a beat. You almost choke on your own spit at his fast response, not knowing whether to laugh or crawl into a hole. But the crowd loved it, laughing. He sure got a kick out of the response, thinking he, himself, was funny. Loser.

“You are joking.” Ellen says, dead panning him.

“No, no really. My, uh, my manager found her for me.” He continues on, deceiving the crowd. Depriving them of the whole truth.

“Oh my god, Chris,” you mutter to yourself in the quiet room. Ellen got a kick out of that even more, stopping him from continuing down this road. He obviously was not going to give straight forward answers.

“Okay, okay.” She switches to a different question. “So…” She dragged out for an effect. Maybe just to make him squirm.

“Oh no,” he mumbled. She just had a look, a look that told that she had so many wrong questions under her sleeve.

“You filming something Chris?” The crowd slowly grew to giggle when he didn’t answer. Just stared her down trying not to react.

“Do you have, like, anything I can answer?!” He burst with a chuckle, wiping his palms on his thighs. “I’m just in town, and agreed to come see you and you treat me like this!” His smile was bright while she muttered apologies, laughing at his distress.

The interview eventually calmed down, them playing a rapid fire game afterwards. You finally settle into the couch to watch the interactions.

That was so not as bad as it could have been. He knew what he was doing during interviews anyway, or you had hoped.

You slept in the next morning, only waking to acknowledge that he was leaving for the day. This was a free day to yourself and sleeping in as long as you wanted seemed like the best way to start.

He left you with a mere kiss on the nose before he trudged out the door. The night before was yet another dismissal and it left you flustered and annoyed as all get out, so the day to yourself was the best present around.

Regardless of how much you thought you wanted a calm day, you were texting him by noon, telling him you were bored. By the time he replied, a mere 45 minutes later you were already sucked into YouTube. You found a new channel that piqued your interest and were easily four videos in.

“Sorry princess. Come with me tomorrow?”

You read the preview and sighed, ignoring it for the moment and pressed play on the video again. These guys in the videos were entertaining... inspiring, even.

By the time the fifth video started, their names were easily remembered. What sparked interest even more was the fact that they are based out of Venice Beach, a mere 45 minute drive through LA, on a good day at least.

The video of them walking the sidewalks interviewing strangers that were bold enough to go on an adventure made you want to feel the same sun they were obviously surrounded in. The couch had been your home for the last hour, a window open to let in some light, shining gold streaks through the room, but it wasn't enough.

The rules that plagued yourself were on a repeat in your head as you clicked on another video, then another, and another. You were not supposed to be spending too much time staring at a screen. You weren't supposed to drive, or go out on your own because you are still healing. You're not supposed to be in such sunny areas it could hurt your eyes still. Don't do this, don't do that.

It is suffocating. Infuriating that the list of long don'ts probably repeats through Chris’s head like a mantra, that's why he won't touch you. That's why he won't let you touch him.

Anger slowly flowed through your mind as you started to lose focus on the video playing. You closed the app and opened google maps, staring at the words ‘Venice Beach’ in correlation to where you were stuck inside, across the city. It was like torturing yourself. A silent battle of wanting to just go, go and then think about it later.

You slowly rolled your shoulders back as you sat up on the cushions of the couch that were not as comfy as you had hoped. The time on the lock screen taunted back at you. You could go and make it back in enough time to be home before Chris got back. You scoffed at the thought. He wouldn't be happy, but you were an adult. A very capable adult who can make their own choices. Staying in your bubble of Byron almost makes you forget your own sense of independence. He doesn't get to decide what you can and can't do.

The bathroom light shone a tad brighter than the natural lighting in the living room, eyes squinting quickly at the flush. You moved to the sink to wash your face, pulled a hair tie to braid your hair, and picked out some clothes.

Double checking for your wallet and phone in your purse brought on second thoughts. You never answered his text. He probably wouldn't notice for a while anyway. You pushed away the small ache of neglect that settled inside, it wasn't his fault. He was working. It’s when he wasn't working, that's when brush offs hurt the most.

Checking your makeup again in the mirror to make sure the covering was adequate over the blueing bruises, you made your way out, pulling the door behind you after ordering an Uber to Venice.

Los Angeles wasn't all the glitz and glam that movies made it out to be. You learned that pretty fast last time you all had been here, with the kids. Having a temporary place in Burbank meant crossing the city often, though a quick commute for Chris. The studios were not but a 6 minute drive away. Ideal, yes. But fun, no.

The drive seemed quick, the driver was slightly chattier than what you thought was normal but you were not complaining. You may have just had a week with more adult action than you’d had in the last few months combined but you were never one to be impolite. You didn't say much, only that you've never visited Venice before and didn't know why, so you just said ‘why not?’.

When the vehicle came to a stop and a moment of regret flushed forward, but you pushed it back quick. Going by yourself was not the worst thing in the world. How else were you going to be able to see what you wanted to see? You didn't know anybody here in L.A. other than Chris. It wasn't like you could call Miley up and ask her to stroll around town with you. Well, you could. But - not like this.

You adjusted your own sunglasses as you walked the last block towards the water. The art on the walls were bright and gave off calm vibes. A skateboard whizzed past you quickly, catching you off guard. You sidestepped to the right of the sidewalk and watched him ride past you and others, closer towards the shops. Clutching your bag closer to your body, you continued, rounding the corner to what was familiar from the videos you had been so enamoured with.

Towering palm trees. Bikes, so many bikes. So many skateboards. You looked around a moment after making sure you were out of the walk way, admiring the ease of the people around. The skatepark up on the hill and the art lining the sidewalks it was all what you hoped to see from the video.

The shops were cute, making your way through a few. So many surf shops and all you could think about was guilt that Chris didn't know you left the apartment. Everything reminds you of him. A fire fight started in your brain - consisting of respect you had for having a partner versus having a sense of independency. You didn't have to disclose every footstep, you never expected him to, at least.

The spiral of your thoughts continued as you strolled across the sidewalks, leaving behind the shops. You took a seat in the grass overlooking the busy basketball courts and pulled your phone out. Ignoring the warmth on your shoulders from the sun, you checked for any notifications and were met with none.

Did you have a right to feel the way you were feeling at the moment?

Was it selfish? Was it hormones? Forget that.

But were you chalking it up to be something more, just a spiral of thoughts when he wasn't there to discredit them? Your clouds caused a moment of zoning out as you pondered.

You both spent all day yesterday together, he even made you dinner, working in the kitchen with music playing while you watched him from the couch. Admiring and happy to see him. A glint in your eyes that stayed, unsubdued. A girl can't help but be worked up when she had gone so long without him, pregnancy hormones were no help to the cause. All you wanted was for him to acknowledge what you had been repeatedly showing off.

You were horny.

There was no other way to put it. And a healing head injury was not going to magically make the want disappear, even if it seemed to have made the want disappear from himself. The thought made your stomach clench, remembering when he turned around and caught you staring at him with lustful, shameless eyes.

He knew the look. He knew it very well. But what happened when his eyes met you made your blood run cold, your feet quickly allowing you to leave the room so the hitch in your breath wasn't caught by his ears.

He had looked away from your gaze with a sigh, turning his back to you. Another word didn't leave his mouth until he had come to find you in the bedroom to tell you that dinner was ready. He stopped himself from pushing open the door when he heard you talking. The sadness in your voice, clouded with tears as you spoke to whoever was on the other line.

“We had such a good day, I had such a good day,” you corrected. “But, but I just-” you stopped a moment, taking in a shaking breath to gather your thoughts. He looked at his feet, bowing his head when the upset nature of the phone call settled in his mind.

“I just miss him so much Bri, and I feel like he just doesn't see me. I feel -”

Your speech was cut off by yelling through the line of the phone. You sucked in a breath and it came out in a shudder, trying to calm your own emotions. He didn't know what she was saying but it silenced you. He felt heavy with guilt that he was the source of your anguish. He needed to stop being weak. He was scared to hurt you but here he was, causing you pain repeatedly until he was the source of your tears. He didn't know if you were crying or not, but he could feel the pain and confusion behind your words.

You started to wrap up the call. A sting of “I know”s and “Okay”s spilled off your tongue and he made his way back to the kitchen, hoping you wouldn't feel upset if you knew that he was listening.

He stood plating the stir fry when you made your way back into the room with a grim smile, peaking at him and muttering ‘thank you’.

You remembered how he led you to the couch and played a random movie on the TV while you ate. He pulled you close to him when you both cleared you plates. The rush that had flooded through you made you blush. You sat there snuggled to him for almost an hour before you both headed to bed and he didn't touch you again. He said all the right things, but words were hard at having such a meaning when his actions were iffy.

“I love you.”

“I'm glad you're here with me.”

“I missed you.”

“I love you, so much,” he would say with a rub on your arm.

A small kiss to your temple and you rolled on your side away from him, closing your eyes. Unbeknownst to you, he felt a bit of his heart break away when he watched you reach for the blankets and tug them to your shoulders, seeking them out for warmth rather than himself.

The empty notification screen mocked you, clicking the phone off once again. You looked up at your surroundings to admire the feel. It was busy, but not uncomfortably so. The skatepark behind you was bustling, and so were the basketball courts in front of you. But right there, where the grass was a soft green and you leaned against the raised plateau behind you, it was serene. Fairly quiet for the crowd around, but it was as if the sound didn't carry. The seagulls above were gliding, and the faint clicks of skate wheels hitting the ground blurred into the background noise of music coming from the shops.

It was a good spot to think. Something you have alway done far too much of.

The buzz in your hand had you snaping your head towards it, a dull ache spreading down your neck at the swift movement. The message had you jumping to your feet, making your way to the corner where you were dropped off.

“Almost done here. In the mood to go out for food?”

He beat you home, only by a minute though it seemed. As you were stepping out of the car and thanking the driver, your phone started ringing. You declined, tossing it into the mess of a purse you had as you made your way inside to the elevators, favoring talking to him in person instead.

The ride up seemed to go by faster than any other time before, allowing your nerves to revv in the light of Chris possibly being upset. The padding of your shoes made it to the door, your hand pushing it open.

His eyes met yours when the door opened and unsurprisingly the first words out of his mouth were, “where were you?”

“I just needed to get out for a bit,” you acknowledged lightly, setting your purse on the counter tops. You didn't meet his eyes, turning your back and digging for your phone. His voice was laced with curiosity, not expecting you to not be there when he arrived, even if you were only off by a mere minute or two.

“Where did you go?” He asked, keeping his feet planted. You turn to see him. He truly had just gotten here, a bag still thrown over his shoulder and shoes still on his feet. His brows furrowed as you met his eyes and then diverted from them again, absentmindedly rubbing your temple where bruises were covered.

“I went to Venice Beach, I haven't been there before and I just want to walk aro-”

“How did you get to Venice? Did you go by yourself?” He worried on with a malice tone. Your ears were growing red as he spoke.

“Yes I went by myself, who else would I have gone with?” You hissed at him. You could already feel your hands shaking. You knew you had worked yourself up today while you were out and were just waiting for the point to start a fight. Still completely confused on whether he deserved it or not, but you were beyond frustrated.

“I don't know anybody here! I have one friend who I barely see! Yes! I went by myself. I needed to be around people. I'm lonely!” You raised your voice at him. He stepped towards you with his hands out when your defense shot up. You crossed your arms around yourself protectively, delivering a sign of needing to be comforted, even if by your own arms.

“I'm sick of being by myself!” You told him as he grew closer, watching with pained eyes as you laid it out for him. “I just - God I don’t know. I just - I needed to get out and do something.”

“Hey,” he calmed. “Im right here.”

“No, Chris!” You pushed his outstretched hands away from your own. “You're not.” You took a deep breath while he stood speechless, catching an eyeful of the hurt you were carrying on your shoulders.

“Princess,” he pleaded, waiting for you to take a look at him but your eyes were wandering to any surface but his.You couldn't get the right words out to say. It had always been like this when you grew frustrated, your own vocabulary runs from your thoughts. You grew silent as a tear finally fell from your eyes but was quickly wiped away by his own fingers. When you didn't protest his touch he took that as a good sign. He muttered your name in surrender.

“What do you want me to do?” He watched for a reaction. “Tell me what I can do.” He was at a loss. Spending more time apart than together was a strain that was eerily familiar and it pressed down on him so hard he was ready to beg for understanding. He wanted to understand what he could do to make this better but what you said next caught him off guard, rendering him silent and confused.

“Do you love me?”

His eyes burned at the yearning of your question. The watery eyes that flicked to his in search of an answer. His lips were dropped open at the turn of events this evening had taken. He thought about this evening all day. He was going to let you choose the place for dinner and shower you with dessert, with love, and affection to make up for what he had overheard. He wanted to show you the beautiful diamond that had your name written all over it and ask a very important question.

He was too quiet, mulling over how he had gotten to this point while you stood with uncertainty, continuing on your quest of finding answers.

“I know I'm starting to look different,” your head bowed at the revelation that he might not like what he sees. “And we are so far apart alot, but I'm still me.”

He spoke your name, drawing himself from his silent trance, wanting you to stop now and not speak another incredulous word.

“My face,” you whispered sadly. “It will go away in a little bit...” The whole in your chest was opening, grabbing a hold of your voice and refusing to let another word out.

“Baby, stop,” his words filled the empty void when yours ceased. He eyed a hand of yours making its way to your neck, a sign of discomfort. He stopped it in its tracks and pulled you to his chest.

His arms cocooned you, holding you far too tight to be comfortable, but you needed it. To feel he was there and there with you. He pressed you head to his chest with the revelation of disregarding his own hesitancy of somehow hurting you with his touch. His heartbeat melding with your own as you froze, slowly melting your guard until tears wet his shirt.

If his goal was to keep you from harm, he failed. It was proven when you released the tension from your shoulders against his grip. His words repeated until you showed signs of listening. Words of reassurance and love. Words filled with apologies and pleads for you to forgive him for causing you this pain. He was naive to think of you in such a way. To make up a version of yourself that was weak or fragile. He lost sight of the fire you have in your veins when happiness emits from your aura. The glow you have when your body shakes from laughter. The strong independent girl that rounded the corner of his kitchen and introduced herself without a glitch of uncertainty. But here you were asking for reassurance and he knew it was his own fault.

You cried in his arms, letting him carry your weight from the room before he sat down on the bed and let you take a moment to breathe, curled atop his knees and listening to his voice.

“Hey,” He said, lifting a hand from your shoulder to run over his face, drying the wetness that plagued his own skin. “You are so beautiful that it takes my breath away. Perfect. And I mean in every sense. You will always be perfect. Princess I never want to hear you say those words again. You are so perfect. And always will be. We have a little baby growing.” You took a deep breath, picking your head off his shoulder and reaching down to lay a hand over the swell in your tummy.

“A baby!” He said, laying a hand over your own, though waiting for you to meet his eyes again. “You will look different, princess, and I will be here and love every single minute of it. I promise. No doctor appointments with Bri, I will be here. And this,” He brushed your hair away from your face, fingers lingering against your scalp. Your head tilted up and basked in the touch.

“This I take responsibility for. It eats me up inside, but you still take my breath away. Every time, and always will.” He watched as you looked at him and listened intimately to what he was saying. “And I want to be the person you go places with. You can go alone if you like,” he added, “but I will never not want to be by your side. Do you understand me?”

You look on a second more, gauging his expression and contemplating his words before you nod. “No more tears, please.” His hands moved to cradle your face, thumbs clearing the skin and in a flash his lips met yours. Filled with promise, he kissed you like you wished he would for days. You craved his taste and was letting you have it, finally feeding into the small fire in the pit of your stomach.

“I love you so much,” he whispered against your lips.

“I have something I want to show you,” he admitted, pulling away. A deep, clarifying breath escaped your lungs and he rubbed your back in turn, reaching in his pocket for his phone with the other hand.

His fingers fumbled across the screen, having to reenter the password twice. You looked away and laid your head into the crock of his neck, closing your eyes. Whatever it was, surely it could wait while your heart mellowed to a regular pace.

The peace was cut short when he whispered your name again, drawing your eyes open. He pushed his phone from his hand and into yours.

“There’s an album right here with your name on it.” You looked on at his camera albums listed on the bright screen. “And I want you to look through it.” He was certain with his words, urging you on.

“Why?” you asked, looking back up at him.

“I love you so much princess, I just want to show you, I want for you to know it and never question it again.” His sincerity was clear, nodding back down towards the phone in your hands. You opened it without a word and clicked on a photo. It was nice, from a few months back, but neither you nor India were looking towards him. She sat in front of you on the kitchen counter, clearly way past her bedtime. Both of you sneaking a bowl of ice cream but what stood out was the smile adorning both of your faces. Crazy hair and slightly sunburned cheeks laughing at each other. You remembered the night clearly, both of you having a private running joke to see how much ice cream you both could eat before Papa notices and “makes us eat salad for dinner”.

You sneaked a look up at him after glancing at the photo, “You know we sneak ice cream all the time, right?”

“Sure do,” he laughed in return. “Keep going.”

You looked back down at the phone and swiped to see another. A photo snuck from the doorway while you rested your head in your hand, elbows on the table as you watched the boys write something out on some paper in the homeschool room, reaching out with the other hand to point at something on Tristans’ sheet.

The next one was you sitting at the foot of the couch while India stood tall above you trying to put a braid in your locks while Sasha sat on your legs with a book in his hand. It was serene, calm. You pressed down on the picture to watch the Live, a short clip of fingers tangling in your hair and Sasha's voice reading aloud. You stifle a smile at it.

The next made you suck in a breath. You were sleeping in his bed at home, the sheet barely covering you. The curve of your back disappearing into the sheets, obviously sleeping in the nude, unaware of the camera pointed at you.

“Chris!” You teased, looking at him. And smirked and shrugged his shoulders, encouraging you again to continue. You brought your attention back to the photos, swiping through more and more. There were many and you kept going at a steady pace until another caught your eye.

You brought the screen to your eyes to examine it, brows furrowing in curiosity. Sasha’s room, although slightly messy, was easily recognizable as you lounged on the bed in the background, lying next to the boy.

Fingers trapping a small ring with an identifiable glow thrusting off the jewel perched atop. The pads of your fingers zoomed in on the object, at the same time, fairly sure your lungs stopped working.

You quickly swiped to the next picture, though the same ring adorned the foreground.

This time you stood against the bathroom counter brushing out your hair. The circle of jewelry resting around his own finger, reaching just below the first knuckle before it got stuck. You stared at the daring ring, resisting the urge to look at the man whose chest was pressed against your shoulder, whose arm rested across your back, rubbing gently, urging for you to continue.

You covered your mouth at the next one, fingers resting across your lips in astonishment. The bare skin of your shoulders were accented by the waves of your hair falling over them. Eyes closed, rested against his chest in search of sleep. He was cheeky, smiling in the photo, showing off a glowin diamond on a ring far too small for his own fingers.

The next picture was another of the same nature. Then a photo of you reaching for a glass in the kitchen. One of you sleeping on a plane. One of you naked, behind the blurred glass of the shower doors. One of you staring intently at your phone while standing at the counter. One of you standing in the mirror, examining, no - admiring the form of your growing baby.

You knew Chris was up to something, fidgeting after taking that photo, looking guilty as all get out. A brief watery laugh escaped as you reached that one.

The next was hilarious, Ellen with her face over your shoulder, with a surprised look, staring right at the camera. She knew!

You looked up at him, waiting for an answer to these photos. He just smiled and nudged you till you finished. There were more, a few more, as recent as this morning before he snuck away to go to set.

“It’s for you, love,” his voice whispers against the skin of your neck, lowering his lips to press a kiss where he knows you melt no matter the circumstance. An arm tightened around your back as he leaned forward and reached under the mattress, pulling a hidden box from the crease. You glazed at it as he switched hands and then brought it to you, flipping it open.

It was there, in person and not in a photo, demanding attention is the slyest of ways. It was beautiful, extravagant with an essence of simplicity. Words were caught in your throat as you stared at it, slowly blurring from your vision from unwelcome tears.

“Will you marry me?”

#chris hemsworth #chris hemsworth fanfiction #chris hemsworth x reader #chris hemsworth fluff #chris hemsworth x you #avengers masterlist

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moonxjoon · 5 years ago

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How Can I Help You? | chapter 1

one | two

Pairing: HueningKai x barista!Reader

Rating: PG

Word Count: 2k

Synopsis: Working at the local cafe in town is normally a tiresome day job, until you meet a particularly fascinating young guy who frequents your shop more and more often than usual.

A/N: Requests Open~

You clutched your peacoat flush to your chest, forcing out a deep breath which brought forth a wisp of clouded air that you could see infringing on the cold air. Your tired breaths slowed when you finally halted your semi-jog, arriving at the teal-colored door of the local corner coffee house you were currently working at on your days off from university classes.

The street adjacent to the building was already saturated with early morning commuters, public transportation bussing, and the occasional biker or runner. It was a raucous, lively Monday morning in the midst of the brisk winter months, teetering on the edge of springtime (which was promised to come sooner rather than later as a result of an inquisitive rodent spotting its shadow a few weeks prior).

You used your boss’s key to unlock the hackneyed door, swinging it open to let in a gust of sharp, biting air throughout the settled shop. Your entire body loosened up when you shut the door behind you and made your way behind the counter to get ready for opening.

You pulled off your scarf and coat, hanging it on the coat rack situated at the front entrance. “Morning!” You said to yourself and perhaps even the shop itself.

Your morning opening routine involved opening blinds, cleaning the espresso machines, and prepping the pastry and snack counter. After your first hand duties were completed, you checked the clock on the wall to see that it was still 6:43, seventeen minutes before opening. You instinctively yawned to yourself, as you had gotten less than adequate sleep the night prior. You had finished up two research papers and an observational lab report for the following week, knowing you would barely have enough time to complete the assignments during your work days. Sluggishly wandering into the back room where breaks and team meetings were commonly held, you grabbed the chalkboard sign used to entice outside customers to stop in and grab a quick cup of joe before starting their day. You wiped it clean and meticulously calligraphed an eye-catching, curtailed version of the store’s menu, highlighting new seasonal drinks and different types of house-made patisseries.

Wearing nothing but your shop uniform and apron, you braced yourself as you opened the front door, the bitter coldness immediately intruding through your clothing. You propped the A-framed sign at the very front of the shop, repositioning it more than needed to satisfy your perfectionist psyche as well as making sure it didn't take up too much space on the footpath for passers-by. Just as you finished setting up the sign, an incoming cry triggered your fight-or-flight response, making you jump.

“S’cuse me!” You heard the voice, envoking you to spin around on your heel to see where the exclamation came from. At the very last second, as a blue blur flashed before your eyes, your legs that were stuck at the entrance of your shop finally decided to move for you. You narrowly evaded the biker, who was traveling downhill on the sidewalk and jerkily dodging people and uneven pavement bumps. You watched as he spun around on his seat, quickly waving to you and not exactly abiding by the biker rules of the road. “Sorry bout that!”

Your racing heart slowed enough to take note of the boy on the bike. His bright aqua hair blew messily in the wind. His back was adorned in a beige jacket and dark pants, and his dark blue tie fluttered over his shoulder, flapping wildly from his breakneck riding.

“There’s a bike lane for a reason!” You called back to him, watching precariously as he narrowly avoided other pedestrians. Knowing he couldn’t hear you anyway, you rolled your eyes and made your way back into the warmth of your brewhouse dwelling.

Laidback rhythms and soft melodies mixed with a cacophony of brewing machines filled the shop as you prepared orders for the now growing line of customers waiting for their daily dose of caffeine and sugar. The first hours of the morning were spent operating alone, as your other coworker called in about fifteen minutes prior to opening that she would be coming into work late. Typical, you thought, as you poured another medium vanilla chai latte and handed it to a young woman, too busy talking on her phone to even say ‘thank you’.

Your brow began to sweat a tad while you prepared espresso after latte after macchiato after cappuccino. After the dozenth cup was served to the last patron in line and no one else needed to be helped, you took a deep breath and used the end of your apron to wipe away the excess perspiration that had collected at the apex of your forehead. Even though it felt like nearly below freezing outside, the whirring machines and scalding drink-making process made the small shop exceedingly sweltering.

You propped your bottom on the edge of the cashier counter and promptly took out your phone for a quick break. You opened your instagram app and liked a few aesthetically pleasing dorm photos on your explore page. Just as you were admiring a particular picture of a minimalistic yet fashionably tasteful flat arrangement (silently wishing you had the money to make your own room look like that), you heard the telltale ring of the doorbell, signalling there was another customer that needed to be tended to. You sighed to yourself and slipped your phone into your apron pocket, turning to face the cash register, ready to take yet another overly complex order.

“Hi, how can I help you?-” you casually glanced up to the person, but your words caught in your throat as you made eye contact. Standing before you was a towering young man who you guessed was around you age just by his youthfulness. Soft chocolate-caramel locks were splayed across his forehead, leading down towards even darker mocha-colored irises. His hair and eye color starkly contrasted to his pretty much flawless milky skin tone. Before his lips even parted to say a word, you immediately deducted that he was one of the cutest guys you’d ever laid eyes on.

“Good morning.” He said. With a sharp intake of air, your teeth unconsciously grabbed onto the sides of your cheeks, which were now progressing into a darker and darker shade of pink. You noticed his lips as he spoke; they were a deep cherry color, almost matching his own cheeks. You suspected this was because of the chilly outdoor weather, unlike your own blood flowing to your face due to the fact you were staring up at an incredibly good-looking guy.

The boys eyes tilted upwards to the menu hanging just above your head before returning back to your unbreaking gaze. “I’ve never been here before, mind if I ask what you recommend?” His voice was alluring in a way and you focused on every word as it came out. You blinked a few times, hearing those particular words strung in that order, but not entirely processing them. When an uncomfortable and unnecessary amount of time passed between him asking and you answering, your brain forced out words by itself, resulting in a clumsy and uncalculated response.

“Uhm, I’m sorry, what was that?” you asked, shaking your head and breaking eye contact which was also starting to get weird. You stared at the buttons on the register, now completely and utterly flustered. You inwardly scolded yourself for making yourself look like a fool. It was one thing if it was any other customer, but you had to be caught off guard by a boy- lord knows how inept you are at holding a conversation with a guy that you find even minimally cute.

“It’s alright. I was just wondering what you think is good here. I don’t really drink coffee, but I need the caffeine to keep me up for today. Being back from break sucks.” The brunette laughed slightly to himself- god, even his giggle was cute.

You held your grip on the sides of the register, praying you wouldn’t continue to make yourself look like a newbie at her job. Come on, just pretend he's just a normal patron, because that’s all he is. Go about your coffee schpeal and recommend the classics.

You glanced back up at the boy, who was still staring at you with the most pleasant, friendly smile.

Through your peripherals, you noticed his apparel. It looked strangely familiar, like the clothing was seen somewhere before in the inner recesses of your mind. You had a realization that the tan single-breasted suit with light blue trim was the exact same uniform worn by the guy that nearly ran you over this morning.

You swallowed hard and forced yourself to act like a normal person, not letting some random captivating dude distract you from your job. “Oh, well we still have our holiday drinks in season; there's our peppermint cappuccino, gingerbread latte, mocha praline swirl...hot chocolate?” You tried, countering his smile with a homely smirk.

His hand came up and gingerly caressed the back of his neck, his eyes once again scanning the board behind you. “Hm, what’s your favorite here?” he queried, making the settling blood in your face heat up once again.

Your mouth opened once, then twice, both times no words coming out. On the third try, your vocal cords finally decided to work. “Oh, that’s a hard question, I’m like a coffee fiend.” The painful grasp on the register slowly eased when to your surprise, the same chuckle from before erupted from his chest. “I’d recommend everything, but one of my go-to’s is our cinnamon dolce latte with brown sugar cinnamon and caramel.” you said quickly, now hyper-aware of your awkward demeanor.

He nodded his head, making his hair bounce up and down playfully over his face. “Alright, I’ll have a small cinnamon dolce, in that case.” You noticed that not once did his smile leave his face. Your mouth perked up, enjoying your short chat. “Got it. That’ll be $3.15.” He reached into his satchel that was slung over his shoulder and pulled out a wallet, handing you a crisp five dollar bill. While he was doing that you took the time to check out his lapel, which had an emblem patch stitched on his front pocket. The black embroidered crest was adorned with gold trimming; woven in were three tri-colored stars of yellow, green, and blue.

Before he had a chance to notice your subtle appraisal, you accepted his currency, brushing his slender fingers in the process. The innocent and simple gesture made your own fingers tingle as they came into contact with foreign skin. His fingertips were chilled as your clammy hands met his, making goosebumps form over your wrist and up your arm. Suddenly your legs were locked in place, yet all the while felt formless and weak.

“Wh-what’s the name for the order?” you asked and silently berated yourself for sounding so automatic yet pathetic at the same time.

“Huening Kai. But you can just put Kai.” Another beaming grin crossed his face as he wiped away a stray piece of hair hanging in front of his eye. It looks so smooth and soft, you thought. Your hands suddenly felt the need to find purchase in his locks, just to see how the mop of shiny brown hair would feel under your touch. You’re repulsive! What is wrong with you? Get your mind out of the gutter! Your mind shouted at you, bringing you back to reality once again.

“Kai. Got it.” You grabbed a cup and a magic marker, writing out the name as neatly as possible. An unexpected wave of confidence came over you before you could stop your lips from speaking you spat out, “Nice name, Huening Kai. Very pretty.” You bite your tongue, immediately regretting your words. Just as you were about to explain yourself that you didn't mean for that to sound weird or come across as creepy, your head shot up to see that his expression changed to a softer simper. His head tilted a bit, like a puppy studying it’s owners face in confusion.

“Thank you, I don't get too many compliments on my name. I appreciate it…” His gaze trailed down from your eyes to your collarbone and right above your breast. He leaned forward over the counter, examining you. A warm heat followed his eyes, making the room feel even hotter than before. “Y/N. Hm, I like yours, too. It fits you.” He said and you momentarily thought he was a mind-reader, until you realized he was studying your name tag attached to your shirt.

You uncontrollably erupted in a giggle, exalted by his compliment. “Thanks, I used to hate it, but I guess I don’t mind it anymore.”

You were kicked back into gear when you peered behind the boy and saw more people had made their way into the shop and were waiting for their orders to be taken. “Your drink will be right out, Kai.” You replied and spun around to your workstation so he wouldn’t notice the redness permeating across your face.

As you made his drink, you made sure to take special care in not messing up the simple order, as you had made numerous drinks in your time at the shop; you haven't had a single customer complain about any of your beverages thus far, so this one shouldn’t be any exception.

The brew was ready, and you took your time making sure the whipped topping was laid expertly and not overflowing. You pressed the lid shut and ensured not a single drop of coffee spilled. “Kai?” you stepped up to the counter at the other end of your station, seeing him waiting patiently and scrolling through his phone. When his name was called, he instantly perked up and smiled. “That was quick!” he exclaimed, slipping his phone into his trouser pocket in exchange for his drink.

Your hands skimmed each other once again, the same exact warm feeling shooting up your arm like before. Ignoring it this time, you gestured to the line of people gathering at the front of the store. “I gotta be. Coffee making pays surprisingly well, can’t afford to be slow.”

Your statement was ironic, as these past few minutes felt like an eternity, just being in the presence of this stranger.

He took a slow sip of the latte as you spoke. You were surprised when his eyes grew wide, and panicked as the thought crossed your mind that you prepared the wrong recipe or maybe he burned his tongue. You should’ve warned him it’d be scalding hot!

“Wow. You’re pretty good at your craft, not gonna lie!” His overly charming grin came back once again, which made you wonder how his cheeks weren’t sore yet. Before you could thank him, he started making his way to the door, waving as he made long strides to the exit. “Thanks, Y/N. I'll leave you to your work now, gotta get to class soon, too.”

Your encounter was over too soon, and you felt a certain tug at your chest when he pressed his fingers to the glass paneling of the door. “See you around!” He shouted over the heads of the customers queued up at the register. And just like that, the pretty boy Kai was gone. “See you!” You tried to call out, but it was too late. The door shut and from the storefront windows you could see the tousled chocolate locks flying haphazardly in the outdoor wind, until he rounded the corner and disappeared from sight.

Your heart had slowed to a regular beat, and you let out a disappointed sigh. You remembered your other patrons and you speedily went back to your post and second nature kicked in and your day continued normally.

“Sorry for the wait, staff is short today.” You apologize to the man standing before you, the bags under his eyes and vitriolic frown indicating he was not in the mood to wait any longer than he had to.

He has to be back sometime. You thought and mindlessly typed away the order for each customer, switching back and forth from brewing and the register. He must go to the same academy as the other dude from this morning. You recollected the blue-haired boy that donned the same uniform as Kai. Damn, I kinda hope he comes back.

It wasn't typical of you to think about someone so strongly after having just met them, but for some reason, this guy lingered around your thoughts. From his tall figure to the way he said your name to his cheeky smile and laugh and even to his cold fingers. You scolded yourself for what seemed like the hundredth time for letting a simple crush affect you so.

You forced out a frustrated huff as your thoughts got the better of your judgement and you accidentally switched up two girls’ orders, earning you a few disgruntled remarks about not doing your job right and an eye roll. When the day couldn't seem to last any longer, you checked out the clock to see if your shift was almost over. 7:36. Lovely…

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grouchythefish · 5 years ago

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The 2010s, year by year.

I was inspired by @puzzled-dragon on twitter but but would rather do this here. I did not realize this decade sucked so hard. I put this under a read more because it’s long and sad af. I did not INTENTIONALLY make this depressing but thinking to each year these ARE the things I think of first. There’s a happy ending though, I promise. If this is too long, just read the first and last year and you’ll probably get the picture. (tw: depression, self-harm, death, suicidal thoughts, car accidents, sexual assault):

2010: Went on my first plane ride to visit my brother in San Francisco! Went to my first show that summer (warped tour - Sum 41!), then My Chemical Romance in December. Started volunteering with the Teen Advisory Board at the library. This was the year I first started realizing I had some mental health issues. My grandmother, who I was very close to, passed away. I was dealing with depression and self harming and learned I have ADHD. Started questioning my sexuality.

2011: The year of the January mystery evacuation! My strongest memories of this year are the summer. went to Warped Tour again (Motion City Soundtrack and Paramore!), joined Tumblr in July. I took 2 months of summer school by choice that year during which I read the Handmaid’s Tale and had a bit of a feminist awakening. Gwen and I started our band and started doing shows together. Started questioning my gender.

2012: Started IDing as asexual. Got into urbex for a little while. Graduated high school. Went to Warped Tour for the last time. Saw Mindless Self Indulgence and had my first serious panic attack. Started a visual arts degree at York. Lived on campus and lost a lot of weight REAL fast and got VERY sick. Now that I was 18 and no longer living with my parents I finally started getting treatment for my ADHD. Realized I was agender.

2013: Started playing quidditch and getting involved with York’s Harry Potter club (Ministry of Magic) where I met @ominouspotato and @puzzled-dragon. Realized I was bisexual. Got my first job (tim hortons) then my first apartment (A complete disaster) My depression and anxiety got real bad towards the end of this year. I did go to a lot of shows though. (Fall Out Boy and Motion City Soundtrack come to mind) Started listening to WTNV not knowing that this would absolutely be a gateway podcast for me.

2014: Moved in with my aunt Bev (not really my aunt) in Scarborough for the first half of the year then my parents for the second half. Bought my first binder. Became a Ministry of Magic exec. Saw WTNV live. Met my (now) ex at a PATD show in Feb, we started dating in Nov. Took the via rail for the first time. Was sexually assaulted on my first date (I have never told anyone this until right now). Rode the go train a lot. Started trying to change my major to Digital Media.

2015: Moved back in with my aunt Bev and lived there for the whole year. (At the time I hated it but in retrospect she was real cool about a lot of stuff) Saw Motion City Soundtrack for the third and final time :’(. This is the year @ghirahims-left-shoe and I met Frank Iero and Gerard Way (who said my drawing were awesome!!!!!) Moved into the Forest Hill apartment (a mistake). Realized university was going nowhere for me. Saw WTNV live again.

2016: Dropped out of York and started at Seneca for Interactive Media Design. My (now) ex moved in with me and my roommates and shit hit the fan which resulted in us packing up and moving back to my home town (Cue the worst 3 years of my life) Got my G2 and started driving regularly, got in my first car accident. I worked 6 different jobs this year. My tax return was hell. I started getting really into podcasts this year.

2017: Started off real fucking depressed over the US election and somehow ended up turning to mbmbam to cope (a mutual on tumblr suggested it and I wish I remembered who so I could thank them for changing my life). Commuted to Toronto 5 days a week this whole year. Got engaged. Bought my first car in August (a beige impala). Had my first car written off in November when someone rear ended me on the 400. Bought my red elantra that I still have now. Joined the MBMBAM Gaming Server when I was at a very low point that fall and it was a god send - met some really really good friends though this. Joined roller derby. First realized I was in an abusive relationship.

2018: Got in another car accident. Quit my job in Toronto because I couldn’t handle the commute anymore after getting in 2 accidents in the same winter. Traveled to Detroit to see mbmbam live. Went through a YMCA employment program, which is how I got the most soulless job ever - but it was a short commute, looked great on my resume, and paid okay so I sucked it up. My depression and anxiety got worse and worse and I kept ignoring it, kept thinking if I just acted like things were fine they eventually would be (fake it til you make it is bullshit btw). Tried to leave my fiance a handful of times but never could. Tried and failed many many times to pass the roller derby minimum skills test. Started isolating myself more and more from my irl friends. My laptop kicked the bucket in August and I couldn’t afford to replace it.

2019 (Jan-Aug): In March I both got my dream job and went on my first big trip (New Orleans to visit my brother)! Got my first tattoo in July. My depression didn’t go away, though. I quit roller derby. A few doctor’s visits and many different ADHD medication trials later I found myself at my lowest point. I wasn’t sleeping but I also struggled to get out of bed. I felt like work was the only thing I could do so it was all I did and my anxiety only fueled this further. I thought that there was no one in the world who cared about me. I saw myself as a problem to the people around me. Something that needed to be removed. I was researching what pills I could overdose on and how many it would take and I started making real plans to kill myself in September.

Spoiler: I didn’t!

2019 (Sept-Dec): I saw a new doctor, took a break from work, and started on anti-depressants for the first time ever. Everything changed. I traveled to Buffalo to meet friends from the mbmbam gaming server and had online friends come to Barrie to visit me. I reconnected with my university friends after 2 years of self-isolation and we see each other regularly now. I went on my first solo trip to visit Gwen in BC and we are starting a podcast together (!!!). I found out my friends are also doing podcasts! I started working on having a better relationship with my siblings (we’re not there yet but making progress). I started coming out to people irl as agender for the first time and requesting they use my chosen name and pronouns. I replaced my laptop and started making art again! I applied for a bunch of zines and got into one! I finally worked up the strength to break up with my fiance for real. Just in these last few months I’ve made more new friends and spent more time with them than in the last 3 years put together. (If you are one of those new friends, I’m sorry if I’m weird or awkward, or say too much or too little or just the wrong things, I got used to not having friends and genuinely don’t remember how to be around people. Please be patient with me, I’m trying to get better.)

2020: I just had the first new years eve in a decade where I felt I was ending the year better than I started it. Things aren’t perfect (I still need my ex to move out, I still live in a town that makes me depressed, I’m still not out to my family, I’m still looking for a therapist) but for the first time in a long time, I’m looking forward to the future.

#decade recap #sorry this is so long #my life

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myheroaizawashota · 6 years ago

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[*takes a deep breath* guess who’s still acting up that’s right it’s my draft box! I’m so sorry to everyone who’s got asks in my inbox! They’re coming, slowly but surely they’re all coming! @rhodochrosite-love I’m so sorry dear this took so long but hopefully it was worth the wait! Ps i should probably start proof reading my actual responses back to you guys 😅 I type like I’ve never had an English class in my life yikes]

Respect in this world was something hard to come by these days. In a world where everyone constantly scrambled and clawed for the sweet taste of success and popularity, the word had lost all meaning. Immature children partook in the most irresponsible and disrespectful acts just for their five minutes of fame. These days not many clung to the tradition and heritage of the shrines set up to honor the great wise Kitsune that guarded your neighborhood. Videos leaked virally around the globe of insolent youths purposely desecrating and demeaning the spirits that held significance to your town. In fact, most shrines had been taken down due to the sheer amount of vandalism over the years. It saddened you that out of fourteen shrines, three remained. While the other two lay securely out of your reach you managed to maintain the integrity of a shrine located just miles from your home. Like clock work every morning and every night on your way home from your daily commute, you’d clear away the trash and scrub off the graffiti left by the children and adults of the community, it left sitting to rot in place of offerings. It twisted your stomach that such a sacred piece of your town, your countries heritage could be treated so poorly. These spirits were kind, loving souls that in a time protected their people. Now a days people disregarded the Kitsune, claiming they were nothing but myths and folk lore passed down by the crazed elders, but from a young age you adored them. You loved the stories of how they’d share their wisdom and strength with their people. You always believed in them. You took pride in the Kitsune and their shrines.

As the rain pounded down on your head, you wandered through the streets, an offering hidden under your jacket as you hurried through the down pour on your way home. Weather never deterred you from making your twice daily stops. As you did each and every day, you cleared the trash from the shrine, and placed your gift down for the spirit. Today you left an offering of rice with fried tofu, you remember in your younger years your grandmother mentioning how it was a favorite for most of the Kitsune. “I’m sorry that your offering is soggy today....i tried my best to shield it from the elements but....the rain just soaked through my jacket.” You sighed shifting in front of the shrine.

It wasn’t custom, but often days you spent a good thirty or so minutes at the shrine showing your worship, talking to the Kitsune. It made you feel better some days. Things were lonely, and while the spirits never spoke back, you could always sense them listening. Sighing, you felt your body begin to shiver as the breeze tickled your shape chilling the damp clothes that hung off of you. “I hope you enjoy the meal, I notice they’re gone every day...I’m sure it’s coincidence, but i like to imagine you’re eating them.”

Another shiver rippled through your body, a gust of wind forcing your jacket to blow back from your shoulders. The winds were strong, stronger than normal, in fact they felt almost forceful. Turning your cheek as the winds began to pick up causing debris to fly toward you, a shape began to appear in front of you. Blinded by the dust and dirt the wind had swelled into your face, the only thing you could distinctly make out was 6 tails all swaying gently in the breeze. Your eyes couldn’t believe what you were seeing, it felt unreal. “H-hello?....”

In response a low pur rumbled through the air, the winds finally calming to reveal something your mind couldn’t believe. Stood in front of you was a man with long tattered dark hair, a set of messy bangs hiding the markings of his forehead. Across his prominent cheek bones sat two bold red lines that extended back to his hair line with a few other distinctive markings along his features. He was stunning, though for a spirit that was all but compared to a god, you couldn’t say you expected much more. Trembling, unsure if it was fear or the chill of your damp clothes, you timidly looked the man over flinching as he stepped closer. “You’ve come here twice a day for the last three years. Why.”

Your eyes widened as the gruff tone of his voice struck you off guard, you left floundering as you tried to answer his question. Your mouth dropped to formulate words, but no sound passed your lips. Impatiently the spirit stepped closer, his chest brushed flush against yours as his eyes bore down at you. You could feel the way your heart clattered against your chest, it’s beating almost in your throat. “Be diligent with your answer. Why have you come here twice a day for three years? What do you want from me?”

His eyes watched yours with purpose as he struggled to read the emotions on your face. Your features now flushed with color as you managed to squeak out “m-my grandmother used to tell me stories of the Kitsune and all the amazing things you were capable of. I always appreciated how vital you were to our heritage. I don’t come because I want something I come to pay respect.”

A low hum bubbled in his throat, as his chest began to peel away from your own, his eyes lazily rolling you up and down. “Laughable that a human would do something without an alter motive. You mortal creatures are all the same. You offer us gifts and expect us to fulfill your wildest fantasies.” He sighed rolling his eyes before shuffling his way back towards his shrine. “Seeing as you have kept my home clean and have brought me food, I should keep my end of the deal. I’ll grant you one wish, anything you want. Try not to be to generic, will you?”

Astonished by the blunt tongue on the spirit you couldn’t help but stand shaken as you gawked. Was this man really a Kitsune? Aside from looking....well...unkempt and sloppy, his lackadaisical attitude and blunt demeanor weren’t what you’d been expecting all these years. Certainly no stories covered the creatures being this way. Taking your time to lull over what you’d ask for the creature sighed and rubbed at his temple “look, you’ve already woken me from my sleep. Can’t you speed this up-“

“My wish, is that you come out and speak to me every day that I visit.”

The words flew from your mouth quicker than your brain could process. Quickly you clamped a hand over your lips to seal them from releasing another stupid comment. Raising a brow, the spirits tails all fluttered in response. That was a unusual request indeed. He was expecting you to ask for something generic like wealth, power, fame....why ask for his company. “Why? What do you possibly have to gain from that wish?”

Pressing your lips together you sucked in a breath of air, your shoulders rising as you let your breath release. “Knowledge. I want to know more about you. I want to know what things were like when you were worshiped by more than just me. I want to hear of your stories....I want to know that my time isn’t wasted cleaning up everyday and providing you food.”

It was a tall order to fulfill, but the man just purred in response, his back turning towards you as the winds once more began to pick up. “Fine, so be it. Come back tomorrow, the same time as you always do, and I will be waiting for you. Don’t be late.”

With that a gust blew the contents of the surroundings, it once more causing you to shield and turn your face. When you turned back the spirit was gone, as well as your offering.

When the next day came, you arrived the same time as you had the previous day, the routine just as any other. You cleaned the area before providing your offering and like clock work the spirit appeared once more. This continued for weeks on end, and you could feel a certain fondness growing in your chest for the Kitsune. Soon it was undeniable you’d created strong feelings for the spirit, feelings that could only be described as love. As fate would have it, your feelings hadn’t gone unnoticed and were not one sided. The Kitsune has grown to appreciate you, even more so, adore you. The spirit had trusted you enough to reveal his name, Aizawa. It was beautiful, a simple name was enough to reduce your heart to flutters.

Returning to the shrine as you did every day, things felt different. When the spirt came to speak, you noticed a certain softness in the way he moved and the way he talked. While he was still blunt and bold with his statements, you noticed a soft look in those typically stoic eyes of his. “May I ask you something?...” you whisper, your body seated on the floor next to him.

“I’ve never stopped you from asking me anything before...” he murmured back, the tips of his tails gently ghosting across your lower back. “What do you want.”

Gnawing at your bottom lip, you felt your heart rate escalate as you tried to formulate how to phrase your thoughts. “Well...I was wondering...” you stuttered the tips of your fingers pressed together, as you cast your eyes away from his form your mouth growing dry. “I wanted to know....well..”

“You’re agitating me, just ask me what you want to know.” He roughly said, his eyes willing yours to make contact.

Clenching then shut tightly, your shoulders hunched as you turned your cheek. “I wanted to know, if I can make a second request.”

Sighing, the man shifted. He should have all but expected this. Though as much as the Kitsune would have loved to say no, he was drawn to you and was curious to see what your second request could be. “One more request.”

“May i kiss you?”

The spirit sat shocked, his body tensing slightly from the question. No one had ever asked him something like that before. Feeling his own heart flutter, he couldn’t help but sit speechless for a moment.

“I-it’s okay if you deny my request! I know it’s silly, truthfully I’m not sure why I asked, but I can’t help but get this feeling when I’m with you, you know deep in my chest...and I don’t know i just thought maybe if I could ki-“

Before you could finish another word, the mans mouth was pressed against yours, the tender touch of his hand curling around your cheek as he drew you closer. It took you by shock, you almost forgetting how to breath. Slowly you let yourself slip into the kiss your eyes closing as your body all but moved against his. You had fallen for this Kitsune, and the spirit has fallen back.

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mininky · 6 years ago

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I'm feeling a bizarre need to wax nostalgic after talking to a client today. This will be very long and smattered with details that might seem unnecessary but I feel are needed to paint an accurate picture. This is the story about how I learned that shitting on fandoms makes you worse than however shitty you think that fandom is. Also, this does go over sensitive topics such as abuse so please read at your own risk.

Years ago, in the olden days of myspace when only college students could use facebook and tumblr was most likely but a mere thought I had hit an odd time in my life. Puberty hit me like a freight train the summer before I was to start high school. I had always been a very, very small child. I was the runt of the litter, born barely over three pounds, and that continued most of my life. Until right before high school. Prior to the sudden thrust into young adulthood, I had been small enough to still fit into most of my kindergarten clothes, I was just that small. Also, most of my clothes were thrift finds that were slightly too big, so that did have a part to play in this. And then came that summer, the summer from hell. For the first time I weighed over 100 pounds, and I'm pretty sure my rapidly growing chest was honestly what helped tip that scale. I went from not needing a training bra (whatever the fuck those are for) to suddenly being a full C and still growing, grew about four inches over summer, and had old ladies telling me I had child birthing hips at church (which can I just add is really fucking creepy to say to a fucking child.) (Not to mention the sudden learning of catcalls and creepy adult men.)

I can distinctly remember around the fourth time I told my mother in a period of about three months I didn't fit the bra she literally bought just the month prior her breaking down and saying that she couldn't afford to keep getting new ones. Luckily I worked at a used bookstore and while I was only paid in books (it was honestly a great deal for me) the owner felt so bad when I told her this she gave me a couple hundred bucks cash. That was when I first learned that tits are fucking expensive.

As with all young teenagers entering into high school I was scared shitless. I had somehow managed to convince my parents to allow me to enroll in a small art school that was a serious commute from our house. Considering that the public school I was supposed to go to had serious gang violence issues as well as a few cops who had been killed there recently, for once in their terrible parenting career they agreed with me. So here I was on the first day of high school surrounded by a bunch of kids I'd never met before, with a new body that didn't even feel like mine, in a part of town that I'd never been to. Now, being the new kid wasn't new to me. I'd played my role as the new kid more than a dozen times at this point in my academic career, and I was usually able to just hide quietly in a corner and either be bullied or ignored by the world. But high school felt like a new chance. And an arts school at that. Until I realized that the office fucked up all of my classes and somehow, instead of being placed in creative writing I got placed in dance.

Now let me explain a bit of background on this school. It was god awful in almost every way shape and form. Anarchy comes close to describing how this school ran. The principal snorted coke frequently throughout the day, most of the students would just leave classes to go hang out, drugs were a serious problem. And I'm not talking about kids coming in rolling or slightly high, no I mean you want it someone has it. Whatever you fancy. But the dance program? Best. In. The. State. Well known by scouts. I know people who went on to be in Cirque du Soleil and Julliard. That good. It was the only thing in this shithole of a school that brought in money and kept it running. Now there were other seriously amazing teachers, but they usually didn't last long because of Mr. snortsalotofwhitepowder.

And here I was, with this awkward new body, riddled with anxiety, self-loathing, and teenage angst-fueled now stuck in this dance class with girls that had been dancing before they could fucking walk. Luckily there were two other girls who had never danced before. I was still the worst out of all of them. Now my dance teacher had a few rules. Anyone who wanted to dance could join her class, and everyone had to start from the beginning class no exceptions. There were no tryouts, no prior experience needed. The other rule? You never, ever, ever pressure someone into a weight range. Bodies can move in beautiful ways in all different forms was her philosophy. And the last rule? No cussing. Which seemed like a lot of rules because, again, the school was verging on being run completely by drug-addled angst-filled teenagers.

Now I hated this class before I ever stepped foot in it, at no fault of my teacher. I had always been horribly uncoordinated, and while some might have felt glee at rapid body changes I had found myself (like most young girls I think) incredibly uncomfortable at having to spend hours upon hours a week staring at this new form in freaking tights and a leotard in mirrors. I was also terrified of failing anything, and once again I seriously sucked at this class. I couldn't handle not being good at something when I thought I was finally going to a place where I could be...you know good and happy and accepted but the world had other cruel plans for me. But the biggest reason why I hated this class? My dance teacher, which again wasn’t really fair to her. To say I loathed her very existence that first quarter doesn't really begin to describe just how much I wanted to see her spontaneously burst into flames and be gone from my life. She ruled with an iron fist, which shouldn't be surprising considering that she was an award-winning ballerina and modern dancer who was Russian classically trained, had a six-pack on her six-pack and possibly ate nails for breakfast. (I would later find out that her eating habits were terrible and she rarely touched a vegetable.)

It wasn't unusual for there to be a lot of screaming from the dance teacher. One of my favorite lines to repeat from her is, "My dead grandmother can plie better than you from her coffin!" Lots of screaming, lots of failing, lots of crying from other girls. I was one of the few who never broke. I may have been a terrible dancer who looked like a newborn gazelle but I lived in a verbally and physically abusive home. Screaming was something I had learned to tune out by the time I was six. As long as there wasn't a phonebook near me I could hold my own. No, I hated her more because I was forced into her class and she couldn't let me slide just because I didn't want to be there. I mean, there was no slack at all for any of us, even the inexperienced.

But one day, my hatred for my dance teacher morphed into a surge of platonic love/idolization. And my hatred for dance would suddenly turn into this need to turn it (and my new awkward body) into my bitch. I had left my script in the changing room and needed to get it before practice started. My teacher had her own performance coming up and was practicing to Radiohead's 'exit music.' I had never seen anything like this. It was a story written by a body. One of pain and love and misery. One that spoke to my angsty soul. This was the first time that I cried in public. I mean it was really just her and I, but it was at school so I think it counts. I will still swear up and down to this day that there is no greater dancer than her. When she moves it's like you have to listen, not watch, listen. I wanted that, I wanted to be able to turn my stories into dances. If I couldn't have my creative writing class I'd turn dance into a new form of writing.

After that, I started spending all of my free time in that room. I was constantly practicing. I didn't care how badly bruised or bloody I was, I kept going. Dislocated my shoulder? Pop it in and keep moving, take some Advil later. But the real moment I knew that my dance teacher deserved all of my respect and idolization was a few things that would follow. When she realized that I was spending most of my time crashing on friends couches and didn't have money for lunch she would stash food for me. When she realized that I had horrible periods and would go through boxes each cycle she kept extra pads and tampons in the locker room for anyone along with a giant bottle of Midol. When I had been out for about two weeks because my father beat the shit out of me and nearly killed me and a teacher threatened to not allow makeup exams because 'it was my choice to not be in school' she must have realized something was up in my home because I'm not sure what was said or even how she knew but I've heard from various sources and all I can say is that in the middle of a class my dance teacher burst in and threatened that teacher into allowing me my makeup exams.

She might have ruled with an iron fist and spent most of time in class screaming AGAIN, MY GOD JUST DO WHAT I SHOWED YOU, AGAIN but she was most certainly the best adult I had ever known at that point. On some days after class, she would even listen to songs I was choosing to choreograph to and we would spend time talking about bands that she used to see and her favorite music. She had seen Type O and Nirvana live, she actually liked WhiteChapel and Tupac and she had all these really bizarre tastes in music just like me and my little weird goth girl who grew up in underprivileged neighborhood heart sang each time we made a musical match because no one listened to both metal and rap at that time and holy cow someone else thinks that Bone Thugs is great but also really digs Dolly Parton and MCR? I was sure that nothing could knock her off the pedestal in my heart I had made for her. Not even when I found out she smoked, or ate McDonalds constantly, or actually cussed like a sailor outside of school. No that just made her cooler and more human to me. That is...until I found out that she loved Twilight.

Now I had tried reading Twilight and I thought that comparing it to a flaming pile of garbage would be an insult to all landfills. I could see my world shatter around me. I had felt betrayed. Until later that night when I lay on yet another friend's couch recalling that moment. She had overheard me making a comment about how disgusting the book was. "Can you believe they're turning that shitshow into a movie?" Probably something about how the total audience IQ was lower than average combined and some other very very meanspirited bitchy stuff that still causes me pain today. And then swooped in my dance teacher from nowhere, "I like the books. I can't wait for the movie. Things don't always have to be good, or what you like. They can just be fun. You don't have to ruin it for others." Hours later I would realize that I had betrayed my dance teacher, not the other way around. I had done the very thing most people did to me, I shit all over one of the things she loved. And I felt sick. I actually went to class early with her favorite soda to awkwardly mumble out an apology and she just laughed and said not to worry, but I realized then that she was right.

Shitting all over a fandom makes you far, far shittier than however shitty you think the fandom is. Now listen, there are plenty of fandoms that I still internally go 'holy shit woah' but I will never, ever verbally say it. Because life is really short, and whatever you want to like, whatever gives you a second of joy even if it's the butt of every joke then who fucking cares? As long as no one else is being hurt because of it, then I say go for it. Listen, the older I've gotten the more I've realized that life just generally sucks. For the most part. That isn't the angsty teenager in me talking, that's the honest adult. It honestly does. But whatever small little thing that makes the cesspool of life seem interesting and it isn't hurting others in the process of enjoying it? Fucking awesome man! I'm happy for you! I'm glad you found something you like! And if someone shits all over whatever fandom you're in? Well, they're an asshole, and I hope that somehow they get stuck in my old dance class with my teacher so maybe at the very least she can scream in their face until they break.

#trigger warning #fandoms #wow this is really fucking long

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hunterenough · 6 years ago

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Life Changes

Chapter 3: Responsible Adults

Summary: Dean gets a look at the way a responsible adult actually lives, and he really likes it. (Or maybe he just likes the responsible adult attached to the house he's looking at...)

Dean’s morning seemed to drag by, probably because he was looking forward to meeting with Castiel and checking out his potential new living situation. He’d let Benny, his lead technician, know that he might be a bit late coming back. He’d set the map on his phone for Castiel’s address, and Google had informed him that it was a four minute drive. Wouldn’t that be a nice change from his current half hour commute.

He pulled into the driveway at 12:04 exactly. The house was white with a dark grey foundation and trim. The walkway was shoveled, and everything looked well cared for. Dean climbed out of his car with his folder of check stubs and headed for the door. He knocked quietly before noticing the bell. Shit, do I ring the bell? Should I wait? What if he didn’t hear me knock. His thoughts were interrupted by the door opening.

Holy fucking hell. This guy, the guy he might be living with, was everything Dean had wet dreams about. His faded Led Zeppelin t-shirt stretched softly over his tone chest, highlighted his biceps. His hands, huge hands , cradled a steaming white mug with a bright yellow sun grinning from it. His dark jeans barely clung to his narrow hips, but they sure fit his muscled thighs well enough to make Dean drool. The face though, his face...perfect chiseled jaw, straight nose, fucking chapped looking red lips, all haloed by the most amazing sex hair he’d ever seen. But it was the eyes that held his attention. Intensely blue, hundreds of shades of blue , just staring at him.

Dean realized the guy was probably staring at him because he was fucking staring. Like a dumbass. He cleared his throat, and offered his free hand.

“Dean Winchester.” Smooth. At least his voice didn’t crack.

The man quirked his lip and shook the offered hand.

“Hello Dean. Castiel Novak. Nice to meet you. Come in.” He stepped back from the door to let Dean enter. He closed the door behind himself, and Cas gestured behind it. “You can take off your coat if you’d like.”

The entry was as orderly as the yard had seemed to be. A series of hooks hung behind the door, two covered by coats, with a shelf of totes above. Under it, stood a shoe rack, half filled with shoes, on a shallow drip tray which currently homed a pair of wet snow boots. Dean toed out of his shoes, glad that he’d opted for the steel toed shoes instead of his normal work boots this morning, and lined them up on the tray. He offered the folder he’d been holding out to the other man before taking his coat off and hanging it with the others. The folder found a home on the small side table, next to set of keys and a bowl of change. Another door, presumably to the garage, was just past the table.

“So, a tour? The main part of the house is pretty open.” Castiel gestured widely with his free hand.

“Sounds great. I love what I’m seeing so far.” It looked like all of the walls were the same soft blue-grey color with creamy white trim. It was practical, he supposed, for the big open space. It looked...peaceful.

Castiel stepped into the living room, and Dean noticed his bare feet sink into the plush carpet. There was a huge sectional, facing a gas fireplace with a widescreen TV mounted above it and floor to ceiling bookshelves on either side, both nearly full of books, movies, and photos, though again, everything looked well organized. An ottoman occupied the space in front of the couch, and two comfortable looking chairs formed the fourth corner. Overall, it looked like a great place to relax after work. Dean nodded.

“I don’t spend much time here, really, except on the weekends. By the time I get home from work, I’m ready for a shower and bed.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling. You said you have a funky schedule?”

“I work on the oncology ward at the hospital. The afternoon shift is 2- midnight.”

“Long days doing that kind of work.” Dean’s days were generally at least the same ten hours, but he didn’t have to deal with sick people. He’d been in hospitals enough to know that nurses worked hard, and often the work sucked.

Castiel shrugged. “Could be worse. A lot of hospitals run twelve hour shifts now, and I’ve got seniority, so I get the Monday-Thursday schedule. Always a three day weekend. It helps that I love my job.” He walked around the couch as he was talking, and Dean followed. “This is the dining room. I use it even less than the living room actually.” He bypassed the long dark wood table and chairs to move into the kitchen. “When I do actually sit down to eat, I usually eat at the island.”

The kitchen was gorgeous. Dean imagined it could be featured in one of those home-decorator magazines he kept in the lobby for his customers. There were miles of granite counter top over dark wood cabinets. A bank of upper cabinets was balanced on one end by the wide stainless steel refrigerator, and on the other by the professional looking stove and hood. A half-full coffee pot was set next to the refrigerator, but very little else cluttered the space.

“I cook a little, but cooking for one sucks. I want to get better at it though, it’s one of my resolutions.” Dean moved further into the kitchen.

“My cooking is generally limited to scrambled eggs, toast, cold sandwiches, and spaghetti with jarred sauce, so you’re probably ahead of me already.” He pulled open a narrow drawer on the island. “I’ve got menus for every delivery and takeout place in town though.” He grinned as he waved down at the collection. “I promise not to touch anything on your side of the refrigerator though. You don’t have to worry about me stealing your leftovers.”

“Noted. Definitely an improvement over my current roommate. I’m lucky if he leaves anything for me to eat, even though I do all of the grocery shopping.”

“Ahh, I had an ex like that. Always hungry, but never bothered to actually buy food.” He shook his head.

Dean just grunted in agreement, and they moved into the hallway.

“Unfortunately, there’s only one full bathroom.” He opened the first door on the left. “Fortunately, it is very well equipped.”

“No shit!” Dean had stepped into the huge room. “Sorry, it’s just, I’ve never seen a bathroom like this outside of a fancy hotel.” The shower was walled in pristine white subway tiles, the open side a wall of glass. Towel hooks were mounted to the front. He could count at least four shower heads, plus the rain fall head above. One of the two shelves in the shower was half full of bottles, but the other was empty.

“It’s probably my favorite room. Sometimes, after a particularly bad day, I like to take a soak before bed.” He gestured at the deep soaker tub.

“Oh my God, that sounds awesome.” After a day hunched over his desk doing paperwork, his entire back felt like one giant cramp.

Cas nodded, then gestured at the double sink. “This sink would be yours.” He indicated the one by the toilet. “It has a medicine cabinet behind the mirror.” He popped it open showing several empty shelves before closing it again. “I keep my towels and washcloths in the bottom drawer, and cleaning supplies under my sink, but you’re welcome to the rest of the space.

Dean smiled at the idea that he’d already been accepted. “Given our schedules, I doubt we’ll have much trouble balancing bathroom times. Sounds like I’m out the door before you’re up and you’re gone before I get home.”

“Yes. Should make it easy to keep from fighting over the shower.” He grinned over his shoulder as he stepped back into the hall.

“This is a guest bathroom,” he opened the first door on the opposite side of the hall revealing a toilet and small vanity, “So we really only have to share with overnight guests.” He opened the next door. “And this is the guest room. It’s a little small, but occasionally one of my siblings comes in for the weekend to visit. You’re welcome to use it for guests as well, if you’d like. Either way, it’s probably a good idea to put in on the house calendar so we don’t end up double booking.”

The guest bedroom, though Castiel had called it ‘small’ offered a queen bed, a wide dresser, and a double closet. It was pretty much what he’d imagined renting. Dean shrugged. “My family lives pretty close, so I don’t really have anybody who would need to spend the night. Unless, I become clinically insane and offer to have my nephews overnight, but I really don’t see that happening.”

“They’d be welcome on the weekend. How old are they?” He’d pulled the door closed again and moved further down the hall.

“Three and five. We’re celebrating full potty training and no accidents now. Very exciting.”

“Oh, that is!” His grin was something else, and Dean couldn’t help but smile back as he opened the door to the next room. “This is the den.” He stepped inside. It was clearly a converted bedroom, similar in size to the guest room, with the same closet. A desk sat on each wall, one with papers stacked on top, each with a plush rolling chair tucked under it. In the corner by the closet, there were two wide arm chairs and a coffee table. Castiel had moved to the closet and swung it open. “I actually have several nieces and nephews myself, so there’s a stash of stuff in here just in case.” Dean noted several labeled totes, ‘coloring,’ ‘blocks,’ and ‘vehicles’ caught his eye before the door was closed and Castiel was moving back to the desk. He tapped at a whiteboard mounted above it. “This is the house calendar. Basically, I just use it to organize bills, etc. But if we’re having guests, that’s probably a good thing to note as well. And I keep a running grocery list. I thought maybe we could take turns picking up the standard household things, toilet paper, coffee, etcetera, but if you prefer, we can do it a different way.”

“No, that sounds fine. I usually shop on Saturday, unless something comes up in the meantime, and I don’t mind picking up whatever.”

They wandered back into the hall and to the final two doors, both open. “These are the twin masters.” He walked into the room on the right, indicating for Dean to follow. “This one is mine. Sorry, I haven’t gotten to laundry.”

The room was huge, with an unmade made king sized bed, a pair of dressers, and again, what looked like a very large closet. The mentioned hamper was tucked into the corner by the dressers, and that and the mussed bedding were about the only thing he’d seen in the house that was disorderly. Still, it was the little sitting area that caught Dean’s attention. Again he felt like he’d stepped into a high end hotel. A wide chair with a matching ottoman was tucked into the corner, flanked by bookcases, and a small rolling table was positioned over one arm holding a laptop.

“Judgement free zone.” Dean lifted his hands. “Besides, I was kind of starting to wonder if you kept a maid or something. The whole place is spotless.”

“It’s not too hard, since I rarely have time to mess it, but I do look forward to splitting the chores.”

“Is that the only reason you’re looking for a roommate? I mean I dated a nurse once, and he made as much as me at least.” Dean blushed a little, well, that hadn’t really been how he’d meant to bring up the fact that he was bi, but now that it was out, he supposed it would be good to know how Castiel would react.

“Honestly, that’s definitely part of it. I bought this house a couple of years back, with the intention of starting a family. My partner at the time, didn’t have the same ideas, which I found out when I found him in the hot tub with his assistants. Plural. I love the house, I really do, but it it’s just so big for just me. It gets...lonely.”

Dean huffed out a breath. OK, so he was either gay or bi himself, one thing less to worry about, but that sounded like a really rough breakup. “Man, I’m sorry. That really sucks. My last real breakup was pretty amicable, but I’d gotten pretty close to her kid, so that sucked. Still, at least you got to keep the house, and it really is awesome. I wound up in a shitty third floor walkup.”

“So did Fergus.” Castiel chuckled and led Dean back to the door. “This place was always mine. At any rate, this one would be yours. It’s the same as mine, just opposite. I didn’t ask, do you have furniture?”

The room looked even bigger empty. “I have some, but seeing your room, I think I might get some new stuff. I can call it doing something for myself and tag it as part of my resolutions.” He grinned at the other man. His bedroom set was nice enough, and he loved his memory foam mattress, but the idea of upgrading to a king sized bed, of actually having all of his bedroom furniture match, it was definitely appealing.

Castiel grinned. “I donated everything that was here when Fergus moved out. It was cathartic. New furniture for my fresh start. I wouldn’t mind going with you, it can be a little tedious on your own.”

“I have a feeling I don’t want to get on your bad side. I might come home to find all my crap on the front lawn.”

Castiel laughed out loud. “Don’t fuck your barely legal assistants in the hot tub, and we should be fine.” He turned and started back down the hall.

“I’d have bigger problems than you to deal with if I did that. Benny, my lead technician, has been married for a long time, and his old lady can be downright scary in that Stepford wife kind of way. Charlie, my left-hand girl, is a gold-star lesbian, and I’m pretty sure she’d kill to protect her record.” He was teasing, but both were facts he didn’t want to ever test.

“One less thing to worry about then. Emptying the hot tub is a bitch.” He opened a door in the entryway that Dean hadn’t noticed before, and flipped on a light before heading down a flight of stairs.

The basement, at least the half that he could see from the bottom of the stairs, was finished, and as well maintained as the upstairs, if a lot more industrial looking. At the bottom of the stairs, the laundry area occupied a length of the wall, with a matching high-efficiency washer and dryer set, a deep wash sink between them, a long stainless steel counter for folding, a bar for hanging clothes, and wall mounted drying rack and ironing board.

“I usually do my laundry on Sunday afternoon, but I don’t mind negotiating that. I could probably do it Friday while you’re at work.”

Dean shook his head. “No worries. I like to do mine in the morning, usually Saturday, but sometimes I slack until Sunday. I can have it out of the way by noon, no problem.”

Castiel nodded and gestured to the rest of the room. “The basement is sound proofed, so you don’t have to worry about making noise down here while I’m sleeping.” The rest of the room was clearly used as a home gym. The floor was covered in thick rubber mats, and there was a treadmill, an elliptical, a weight bench with a rack of weights, and an exercise ball. The other half of the room was clear except for a small tote, though there was a TV mounted on the wall surrounded by several full length mirrors. “You’re welcome to use any of the equipment of course. I practice yoga, so there’s blocks and straps and stuff in the tote if you’re interested. Otherwise, there rest of the basement is mostly unfinished. It’s sealed, but that’s about it. You can use it for storage if you want. I have Christmas stuff stuck in there.” Cas shrugged. “I guess that’s about it. Hot tub is on the back deck, the yard is fenced in and completely private. Oh, the garage. You run an automotive shop, I’m sure you’re interested.”

“You say that like you aren’t.”

“Well, I enjoy not having to scrape the ice off of my windows.” It was said with a small smile. He led them back upstairs and to the other door in the entry.

“This is the door I usually use.” He pulled it open and stepped down into the garage. There was a blue SUV parked in the spot closest to the door, with the area in front of the other door empty. The garage was deeper than he’d expected, probably big enough to park two cars lengthwise, though the area in front of the SUV was occupied by a large work bench. “I don’t really use anything in here except the freezer.” He indicated an upright freezer near the door. “You can use the workbench if you want. Unfortunately, the snowblower died in the middle of that last big storm, so we’re stuck shoveling.”

“Or, you tell your mechanic housemate that the snow blower’s broken, and he fixes it.” He was grinning like a clown, he was sure, but the place was perfect, close to work, amazing space, great housemate and a heated garage . Seriously, could it get any better?

“So you like it?”

“Dude, it is perfect. I’m not convinced you’re not a serial killer it’s so nice and the rent is so affordable, but at this point, I think I might be willing to help you bury a body or two for a chance to live here.”

“Awesome. You’re the first person that’s answered the ad that I think I’d actually like to share a house with.” He glanced at his watch “I really need to get ready for work, but I can give you a copy of the lease to read over, and you can text me with questions. I can’t always answer right away, but I usually get a few minutes here or there. When were you looking to move in?”

“Honestly, unless you ask for my firstborn as deposit, I’ll put notice in tomorrow, so within the next two weeks if that’s OK?”

Cas was nodding. “Anytime. We can work out the details this weekend.” They’d moved back to the front door.

“Thanks so much for showing me this place, Castiel. This is exactly what I was hoping for.”

Cas glanced at the contents of the folder Dean had given him earlier, and added a sheaf of papers, and waited until he’d put his shoes and coat back on before handing it to him. “My friends call me Cas, and since I’m looking forward to sharing a house with you, I’m hoping you’ll fall into that category.” He offered Dean a hand to shake.

“Can’t wait Cas. I’ll shoot you a text if anything comes up with the lease, otherwise, I’ll plan on giving you a call Friday after work. Sound good?” He didn’t really want to leave, now that he was here, but he had to get back to work as well. He took the offered hand, and shook if firmly.

“Sounds good. Have a great afternoon Dean.” He moved to hold the door open.

“You too Cas.” He waved as he headed to his car.

He was actually looking forward to canceling the other appointments he’d made. No way could he get a better deal than this.

More Notes:

Three chapters in, and they finally meet. Can you actually imagine a meeting between these two that doesn't involve some kind of awe on Dean's part?

P.S. The description of Cas was very inspired by this magnificent piece of art (https://www.redbubble.com/people/jackiedeeart/works/35675771-sunshine?c=408643-supernatural). That's a redbubble link because I firmly believe everyone needs this in their house.

P.P.S Sorry about the gratuitous amounts of house description. I'm hoping it will help in the coming chapters to know your way around.

#my writing

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somuchanemoia · 6 years ago

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A Day of Reflection

Today has been one of those odd days where its an okay day but there is something just...off about it. Nothing bad, nothing weird, just off settling. Where it's too quiet and yet too loud. Lonely but yet over stimulating. My ability to be in a state of passive spontaneity has kept my general need for routine and order at bay at least for today.

It’s off and unsettling, but good in a very good and unsettling sort of way.

I started my morning waking up form a dream that really started causing me anxiety for no reason, as such that happens often with chronic anxiety. I brewed myself some coffee and told my mom about my dream as she got ready for work; told her about how I had this weird dream that I got accepted into the super competitive program I’m applying to at my university and when I showed up to class to meet the 19 other people I would be forced to spend the next 2 years being in classes and working with, I found my ex girlfriend sitting amoungst my new cohorts. We didn’t end on good terms at all and I’m already on ede now that I found out that her mother is going to be one of my professors.

As I was telling y mom about this dream and being the generally anxious “what if” person I am, she stopped me and told me this story:

“When I was in college and going into one of my upper division classes I walked in and saw a woman whom I’d known and hadn’t been on god terms with. I tried not to stare the whole 2 hour lecture hour at her because ‘how in the holy hell is this even happening?’ and finally after lecture, I couldn’t help myself. I walked up to her. I tapped her on the shoulder and said, “Uhm, I think you were married to my dad.” And it was her, except she was remarried to husband #5 and barely remembered the summer that she and her two kids went on vacation with us while my parents were still married. And we talked, caught up for a few minutes and went on our seperate ways.”

And I looked at her and I said that was a totally fucked up story. ANd she just smiled and told me I needed to stop pretending like we were cast onto “The Days of Our Lives” and that realistically, I was cast into our own personal sitcom that was just renewed for a second season.

I didn’t know how to respond to that, but it oddly did make me feel better. Everyone knows that usually season 2 of any show sucks ass, but at least it usually gets better (except for Heroes, which just got progressively worse until we all begged for the merciful end of humanity).

Mom went to work, I went down to study. I have a test coming up in Child Development on Friday and to be honest, I gave up on the class after two weeks in. But credit is credit and I had already bought my books so I wasn’t gonna back out of it. And that studying method lasted for a good half hour before I gave up and stared mind numblingly at my computer screen and binged Netflix.

It wasn’t until after my binge watching was cut off so I could attend my ASL class tonight, that I had my other off settling experience.

I moved to my small town when I was 16 from the large metropolis in which I grew up and still half of the things anybody in Idaho does, is a little odd to me still. I got honked and waved at twice on my 15 minute commute to my class by people I didn’t know and yet I have become to be one of those weirdos who waves back because I feel like I’m being rude if I don’t.

But what happened when I got to class was my odd. I stepped into the elevator (because I was too fucking lazy to walk up a flight of stairs to the 3rd floor) and in the elevator I just so happened to share it was someone coming up from the basement. We stood in awkward silence for a few seconds before he turned to me and said, “I think we went to high school together. ANd I turned and just said, “Oh, okay...yeah, maybe.” We have two high schools in this neck of the woods and so everyone either goes to one or the other and still we all grew to be close as rivals. It sounds bad to the locals here, but the chances of me actually remembering half of the people I was actually “friends” with after beign graduated for a couple years is slim.

This wasn’t the first time this has happened either.

However, normally it ended there.

“You were in band...played the flute right? Had a thing for Joe.”

And it dawned on me that he thought I was someone else. In high school, one of my closer friends and I shared the same name, looked alike and shared many classes together. “Ahhh, you’re thinking of Sam...I’m the other Sam...”

And he just smiled and was like “Oh, that’s right. The orange one. I could’ve sworn you were in band though....played the saxophone or something...” He’s reffering to how I used to have bright mermaid red hair in high school. It’d been a long time since I had done that to my hair and yet, I apparently was memorable to the “orange one” over the past so many years...and that I was apparently in band and played the saxophone, both of which weren’t true.

And with that he left on his floor while I continued up to my floor. And it had me thinking that over the course of time how vastly different I’ve become over the past so many years. Two years ago I was “the orange haired saxophone player who was never in band and yet was” and now here I am at 20 as “the anxious sitcom star that has just been renewed to have a second season”. Neither of which things I could say anything about in the end and just sat there watching as both my mom and my alma mater cohort said something.

ASL had gone fine. I was apparently the only one in class to know that our student union building had an ATM machiene between the security office and the front door, but other than that, nothing life changing happened until the end. We were told about our final today-- a paper on our “deaf day” which we have until the end of the semester to write. We put in ear plugs for the day and go through our day being deaf. No tv. No music. No talking. We are to sign and write on paper what we need.

The idea is a bit overwhelming, but I’ve had sometime to come to terms with the idea of no music, which is one of the few things that helps me unwind after a long day. We have five weeks before the paper is due. And that’s not very long before the semester ends and I am rewarded with a few weeks off before I begin this hell up again in the Spring.

Five more weeks of ASL. Five more weeks of being with the 9 people I love and the 1 I mange to tolerate.

Five more weeks of the dopest prof I’ve ever had.

And I don’t know what I’ll do with myself after those five weeks until I start ASL II, possibly with a different professor and with a different class. It already seems to be settling into my bones that this is in fact going to come to an end and I almost don’t want to go, to saver the time just for this one class because for once in a few semesters I feel confident and happy in my learning and educational experience.

And it got me thinking about next semester. My prereqs for my program are out of the way this semester as long as I pass. Where do I go next semester? Generals? Minor classes? Do I go next semester at all? And the answer so far is that I don’t know and I’m okay with that. I want to take ASL II but that’s all I know for certain for right now.

It’s unsettling not having a game plan for now, but yet its oddly peaceful to know that I’m getting a season 2 and that I’m no longer :the orange one” though many will still remember my days as such. The same way we remember beloved characters like Howard Wolowitz or Dean Winchester before he went to Hell.

And my character arc isn’t happening yet but it will get there and already I’m changing and there is no set in stone plan for me. And its oddly freeing and yet different.

#sam speakeths #i have no idea where this was going but its here now and i got it off my chest #change is a bitch and my friend and its weird

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handlewithcharacter · 6 years ago

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Tagging Game

Honestly God bless the people like @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels who tag “whoever wants to” because I am petty and always like talking about myself

Nickname(s): Maggie, Maggs, Mags, Magg-with-two-g’s, Magalot, Magathy, Magwheels, Bean, Maggie the Great, Margarita, Maggles, Mugs,

Zodiac: Aries

Height: 5 ft. 5 1/2 in.

Time: 2:53pm when I started but update it’s 3:17pm when I click post.

Favorite band/artist: uhhhhh Elton John probably?

Song stuck in my head: “Honey, Honey” from Mamma Mia

Last movie I saw: Mamma Mia Here We Go Again

Last thing I googled: What is an RSS Feed

Other blogs: no one needs to see my rp blog or my first tumblr blog. No one.

Do I get asked: About what? No, it doesn’t matter what. I never get asked things.

Why did I choose my username: Okay so I originally was just my username from my old blog, but I was always kinda worried that people would figure it out? I mean idk what I was worried about exactly but I was. But then Rosa came out on Brooklyn Nine-Nine and so I really wanted to be “rosabiaz” but it was taken but then I saw this awesome drawing so I became “detrosabiaz” and I like it and I’m keeping it.

Following: 260 blogs

Average amount of sleep: Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. I mean I’ll go to bed anywhere between midnight and 3am and then wake up anywhere between 7am and noon? This was less of an issue last week when I was staying at my mom’s but it’s become an issue again since I moved back into my apartment.

Lucky numbers: 14 and 2.

What I’m wearing: sleep shorts with a funky arrow pattern on them and a top that says “I <3 Female Orgasm” that I promised my mom I’d make a pajama top and not wear in public.

Dream job: Writing tv shows geared toward middle-grade girls with positive representation and educational value without feeling forced. Also acting in said tv shows.

Dream trip: Backpacking Europe and seeing EVERYTHING.

Fav food: Pesto pasta. Specifically my grandmother’s recipe.

Play any instruments: Technically I can pluck out notes on a piano and I know a handful of chords on guitar and ukulele but I think I’m still just one of those assholes who says “my voice is my instrument” even though I’m not that good a singer to really say that.

Hair color: Dark brown, but the underside is blonde because I dyed it blonde so I could dye it purple but the purple came out pink and it’s since faded to blonde and my mom keeps asking me if I “re-dyed it blonde” and I keep having to tell her that no I did not.

Eye color: Brown

Fav song: There’s really no way to pick a favorite song but if I could pick two or three songs that had the most meaning to me in the world they’d be “The Way You Love Me” by Faith Hill, “Delaney Talks to Statues” by Jimmy Buffett, and “Rocket Man” by Elton John.

Languages I speak: English. That’s it because I suck. I want to learn more. I have a whole list of languages I want to become at the very least conversational in.

Random fact: I am very behind on the baby blanket I’m knitting. I only have ten weeks left at most to get it to be roughly 3.5′ long and it takes me like 30 minutes to do a single row with this pattern.

Describe your fantasy: Okay so my dream life has me in some small town. I either commute into a big city for work or I have a book shop on Main Street called Maggie’s Bookshelf. (Possibly Marge’s Bookshelf if I decide when I’m older I want to go by Marge.) My spouse is a great cook and we have a house with a big tree in the front yard with a bench under it and a beautiful garden out back with quaint little sitting areas. The house also has a turret, the top floor of which is a craft room. We have three or for fostered kids and one or two biological kids and we have a really good relationship with my mom and siblings so they visit all the time or are close by or something. If I work in a big city I’d be writing/creating tv shows, or maybe working on Broadway. Something in entertainment. And I reach people. What I do connects to people and makes a difference. I have a few volunteer projects that I love doing. My mental health is all under control. I’ve got a great group of friends and we have adventures together when have spare moments away from our families. Every summer we go to my mom’s lake house and I inevitably wipe out on the jet ski but everyone laughs. My mom teaches some of her grandkids how to sail but also takes them hiking. Once a year, my mom and I spend a weekend in NYC and see a show on Broadway. Each of my kids gets a chance to go when they’re old enough, if they want to. All my life is love and happiness and it’s magic.

#about me

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pjbehindthesun · 7 years ago

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chapter 6: orchids, stars, and polar bear turds

Friday, June 29th, 1990

Okay, okay, suck it up, you coward, you can’t hide in this bathroom all day eavesdropping. You know he’s stalling and waiting for you to come back to your desk… I mean, no one in their right mind actually just comes by to talk to Greta. I’ve been ducking him all week, but it’s starting to become obvious. Ugh, you’re such a fucking chicken. You can do this. Go. Go. GO!

I open the restroom door and walk around the corner and see Jake engaged in polite conversation with my bridge troll of a supervisor. He’s been listening intently as she drones on about her commute, smiling and adding his own quips about the traffic on I-5, offering the occasional helpful suggestion for an alternate route or a book on tape she might try to help pass the time. I’m dying inside just having listened to her diatribe for a couple minutes, but if he’s feeling the same desperation, none of it shows on his face.

All the same, he grins and nearly jumps out of his skin when he sees me, so maybe he is actually grateful to have an escape from Greta. “Lucy! I’ve been looking for you!”

I try for a smile, but I’m sure it’s more of a wince. We both know I’ve been dodging him ever since the Strawberry Incident. It was so sweet of him. So sweet, and so poorly timed. He’s everything I always thought I wanted in a guy – hey, Mom and Dad, here’s that charming, handsome doctor son-in-law you ordered! – except that he’s kind of… too perfect? Is that possible? Can someone be too perfect to be interesting?

“Hey, Jake.” Greta grunts at me and scuttles off, sensing that her attentive audience has evaporated.

“You’re a hard woman to find,” he beams. “I’ve been wondering if you saw my package.”

I bite the inside of my cheeks and internally curse Cora for being such a bad influence on me. He doesn’t seem to notice he’s said anything funny, so I get a grip, although once the giggles pass, my heart’s still in cornered panicked rabbit mode. “Yeah, uh, the strawberries? Yeah, thanks! We loved them.”

“We?” His smile falters for a nanosecond.

“Oh yeah, a couple of the nurses and I, even Greta. They were delicious.”

He chuckles. “You’re sweet to share them. I was just, uh, thinking of you. I do that a lot, actually…”

Here it comes. Can’t dodge it forever. God, I want to puke.

He goes on. “I was actually thinking we might go out sometime, maybe get some dinner?”

“Oh, uh, Jake, you’re… that’s so sweet of you, really…uhm, I would, but I’m sort of… I’m seeing someone…?” It feels so odd rolling off my tongue, but even after just one week of knowing Jeff, it’s hard to deny that something significant has changed. First, he tracked down my apartment, then I stopped by the Raison d’Etre to spend some time with him after one of his shifts, and tomorrow we have an actual, scheduled, non-stalker-y date. I haven’t had much room in my head for anything else.

I brace for the awkwardness, or maybe even the defensive mockery or insult that usually comes with turning down a guy in my experience. But Jake just blinks before hitching his good-natured smile back into place, and I’m flooded with relief tinged with guilt. Why does he have to be so fucking nice?

“That’s great! I didn’t know that! Of course, girl like you, you must be swatting us away.”

I open my mouth to explain why he’s so wrong, how atypical any of this suitor stuff is for me, but he continues, “well, uh, he’s a very lucky man. Though I’m sure he knows that. What’s his name?”

I bite my lips in to keep from smiling rudely, hanging on to his name as long as I can, wanting to keep it for mine.

***

Saturday, June 30th, 1990

“Epi-what nows?”

“Epiphytes,” she giggles, tugging me by the hand through the greenhouse. She’s been geeking out over all kinds of flowers and plants for the last two hours, but if possible she’s even more worked up about the ones in this part of the exhibit. We stop in front of this giant cylinder covered with tufts of spiky little plants. “See?”

“I see ‘em, yup…there, uh, there they are, alright,” I nod approvingly, not having the slightest clue why we’re staring at these things but not wanting that excited look on her face to go away.

“Air plants, Jeff, look. See how they don’t have any roots? They’re not planted in any soil?”

“Son of a bitch, you’re right,” I take a step closer and squint at the plants she’s pointing at and realize they’re just hanging onto this column through sheer force of will or something. The more I look at the wall, the more variety I see, like noticing more and more stars the longer you let your eyes focus on the night sky, and I’m starting to understand, if maybe dimly, why she’s staring so raptly at them with that smile dancing on her lips. She turns to me and blushes, her hair a little wilder than usual thanks to the humidity in here.

“I know, it’s weird, I’m really into plants,” she cringes, “you probably hate it, right? We can go if you –”

“No no, how the fuck does this even work?” At first, I was kind of hesitant about a date at the conservatory – I mean it’s free and all, so it’s got that going for it, but who wants to stare at flowers all day? But I’m starting to see the appeal of staring at Lucy when she’s staring at flowers, and now I just genuinely want to understand what the fuck I’m looking at.

“They just grow on all different kinds of surfaces, and they take their moisture and nutrients from the air instead of from extensive root systems in soils. Like, uhm, mosses and stuff? Spanish moss is a good one. But also orchids, and all these bromeliads in here.” I remember the window full of orchids in her place and begin to understand why she wanted to come here. I follow her gaze back up the display wall as she continues in a hushed, reverent voice. “I just think it’s beautiful, the way they fall all over a tree or another plant, not doing any damage like a strangling, needy vine would… just, just a soft blanket all over… just breathing together.”

She falls silent and we both stare at the plants, and I’m trying not to think too hard about how romantic fuckin’ epiphytes turned out to be when I feel her take hold of my hand and lean lightly against my arm.

***

“Our feast, m’lady,” Jeff turns around holding a giant brown paper bag, having just tipped the delivery guy and nudging the front door closed.

“And what’s the damage?” I grab my backpack and reach in for my wallet, but he takes the bag out of my hands and sets it down, sliding his arms around my waist.

“Nah, forget it, you’re a cheap date,” he mumbles, planting a light kiss on my lips.

“Sure know how to woo a girl,” I grin against his mouth.

“You’re one to talk, Miss ‘I’m really into plants,’” he tickles my ribs and I break away, dodging for safety in the kitchen and sticking my tongue out at him. “You save all the best stuff for the third date, huh?”

“Oh yeah, I’m the mistress of seduction alright. The castration and branding stories were just the bait to reel you in before we started the real foreplay. Chopsticks?”

“Drawer next to the sink. Gotta hand it to you, though, it’s not the worst date I’ve ever been on.”

“Well, this sounds like a promising game…” I hunt around in his kitchen cabinets until I’ve got a couple of plates.

“Shit,” he laughs. “You know I’m just kidding, Luce, right? I had a great time.”

“You’re not getting off the hook that easy, bud. I mean it, what is the worst date you’ve ever had?”

He glances mischievously up at me while dishing out his low mein. “I dunno, I sort of want to hear about yours, you seem too eager for someone who doesn’t have a good horror story up her sleeve…”

“Nuh uh, I asked you first.”

He screws his face up thoughtfully as we sit on the couch with our dinner. “I don’t know, I haven’t had a lot of really awful ones, I guess… there was a blind date in college once that was pretty fuckin’ awkward.”

“Details, please,” I sit opposite him on his couch with my legs folded, awkwardly managing my rice with my chopsticks.

“Okay, so I got home to Big Sandy after a semester away and one of my mom’s friends wanted to try to set me up with her daughter, so my mom went along with it. I don’t think this girl’s mom had any idea who I was or what I looked like or anything, she just knew me as, like, the mayor’s kid…”

“Your dad’s the mayor?”

“And the barber,” he nods with a mouthful of food, “I don’t think I can impress upon you just how tiny this shit town of mine is… anyway, so I had to be pretty well behaved, and pretty clean cut, right?”

“Gonna need some evidence of this ‘clean-cut’ concept when story time’s over,” I tug on a piece of his hair.

“I mean, relatively speaking. Well, I come back from Missoula, having made a bunch of friends who were into punk rock, and I looked the part, you know… or more than I did when I moved away. And this girl’s, like, Polly Purebred, never left home, just completely sheltered and totally freaked out. I probably looked like Sid Vicious to her or something,” he chuckles. “So it wasn’t the end of the world, but she was pretty terrified the whole time, so I found excuses to cut it short and take her home.”

“Very decent of you for a depraved monster.”

“I thought so. And very much my last blind date, too. Your turn!”

“Ah, fuck,” I groan… “I don’t even know which one to go with. Yours was so tame, mine are all going to sound insane.”

His eyes light up as he sets his empty bowl down and rubs his hands together. “Go on…”

“Okayyy… well, it doesn’t really count as a date, but my two most serious boyfriends both came out to me while breaking up with me…”

“Jesus!”

“No, that was the other guy.”

“You dated Jesus?”

“Not quite, but I did go on a date with someone who tried to convert me. Brought all his “so you’re going to hell” pamphlets and shit.”

“Okay, no, that’s got to be your worst one.”

“Don’t you want to hear about the puker?”

He blinks like a deer in headlights. “The…”

“The guy who took me out to dinner and turned increasingly green throughout the meal, and I kept asking if he was okay, until the waiter sets this big piece of salmon down in front of him and he pukes all over it.”

“That’s fucking disgusting!”

“Maybe I shouldn’t tell you the rest…” I wince even thinking about the memory of it, but he’s watching with wide eyes. “…that he… drained it off and then…”

“No he did not. He did not fucking eat the fish. Nope. We’re done here, get the fuck out!” he takes my bowl from my hands and pulls me off the couch, gently shoving me towards the door, but we’re both howling with laughter.

“You’re, like… damaged,” he teases, brushing my hair out of my face.

“Nah, just the usual run-of-the-mill lowered expectations. You’ve got it easy,” I bite my lip and he drops his gaze to my mouth.

“Well, you deserve a lot better than puking and proselytizing…” he places a gentle kiss on the tip of my nose, and I close my eyes to hang onto the sensation of it, the way time is slowing down.

“Sweet talker.” He brushes the backs of his fingers against my cheek as his mouth moves down to mine for a soft, sweet kiss. Well, it started that way, anyway… as soon as I parted my lips, he wound his fingers into my hair and wrapped his other arm around my waist, pulling me into him, and now I’m kissing him back feverishly, winding my arms around his neck, trying to get as close as I can. He shuffles me carefully backward until we find the couch, where we lay down gently and I lose track of everything except the sweetness of being all tangled up together.

What the hell time is it? I crane my neck to look around his apartment for a clock, being careful not to disturb him, but I’m distracted by how gorgeous he looks when he’s asleep. His mouth’s open just slightly and he’s snoring softly underneath me on the couch, one arm still wrapped around my shoulders. We’d been making out like a pair of horny teenagers for who knows how long, before deciding together that we were in no great rush, and enjoying an endless twilight of soft kisses, cuddles, talking, and laughing. Until I guess we fell asleep, and now it’s… 1:17? Holy shit.

Jeff’s arm tightens around me and he stretches his other arm out to the side, letting out a contented rumbling noise.

“Sorry to wake you,” I nuzzle into his neck, planting a few little kisses and breathing him in as he gathers me up into a hug.

“Sorry? Wake me like this a little more often, would you?” he mumbles against my temple.

“It’s late, I should get back downstairs and let you go to bed.” I’m saying it, but not really believing it, and all it takes is one whispered “stay?” into my ear before I settle back into his arms, with no intention of going anywhere.

***

Thursday, July 19th, 1990

“I’ve fucking missed you! I’m so glad you’re coming home tomorrow. Do you have any idea what a sausage fest my life is now?”

“You say that like it’s bad.”

“Oh shut up, Cor. You had something to do with that, you know.”

Guilty, I think to myself as I laugh at her through the phone. Lucy and I didn’t have a lot of guy friends until a couple of months ago when all these musician types crashed into our lives. Not that I don’t get along well with men. I actually tend to get along with them better than most women, and all my friends in high school were guys, on account of being the only girl in all the science and math clubs. Guys somehow make more sense to my brain. More straightforward, or easier to joke around with, or something. Or maybe it’s having a brother that makes them seem more approachable? Not that my brother is in any way typical of the species, whatever the fuck the stereotype even means. But a crowd of guy friends is something I’ve not had for a long time. I guess since I started college, started dating Alex. Ever since then it’s been one or two close girlfriends. Mad back home, Lucy here in Seattle. Quality friends over quantity, a thought that makes me grin at getting to see Luce tomorrow.

“Yeah, well, I’ll dilute the testosterone a bit when I get back.” I hesitate for a half second, knowing I’m about to embarrass the shit out of my dear, sweet friend, but also just genuinely curious since we’ve been playing phone tag ever since I made it to Alaska three weeks ago and it’s the first time we’ve actually managed to catch up. “And speaking of sausage, how’s it going with Jeff?”

“Damn it Cora!” she laughs. “It’s been going really well. Like, really well.”

“Nuh-uh, not good enough. I need more information. What date are y’all on now?”

“Uhm, I’ve sort of lost track, there were a few days where it was like, distinct dates happening, but for a couple weeks now we’ve seen each other almost every day.”

I wolf-whistle. “Busy three weeks.”

“Oh, hush. I’m a lady, you dumb bitch.” I try and fail to stifle a snort, but even she’s laughing.

“The most refined, clearly. So maybe not that much of a sausage fest, then?”

“We are taking things slow,” she says resolutely. “I mean, well, we’ve done… stuff, but like, we haven't… not yet…”

“You’re adorable, you know you can’t even say it? Haven’t had sex yet?”

“Not yet. We’re not in a rush.”

“Fair. You don’t owe anyone shit, you know, least of all a guy for taking you out.” I don’t even know why I’m lecturing her, except that she has dated a line of assholes as long as my arm.

“I know, Mom. We’re just in that… that dream-like beginning part, you know? Where it’s all new, and time slows down every time you touch, where everything’s about wanting and not having? The part you just don’t ever want to end?”

“Yeah, totally.” Except I don’t really know, but she sounds so lost in her happiness that I should keep that to myself. New topic.

“So are you guys going to the party thing tomorrow night? Stone and Chris’s thing?”

“Yeah, we’ll be there. Are you going?”

“Mmhmm. I think I talked Alex into it.”

“Whoa! So let it be written, the history books shall show that on this day, July 19th, Alex Henderson agreed to hang out with his girlfriend’s friends.”

“Yeah, yeah, wise-ass. Should be interesting.”

“It’ll be fiiiine!” she sing-songs.

“You have approximately zero data points on which to base that conclusion.” I’m imagining Stone and Chris talking to Alex and I don’t know whether to laugh or cringe at the thought. Guess I’ll find out soon enough.

“I’ll be optimistic for both of us, then.”

“Bless your heart. Speaking of the hermit, I should probably give him a call.”

We say our goodbyes, hang up, and I dial home, but I get the machine. I glance at the alarm clock on the nightstand and try not to sound too perplexed as I leave him a message: “Hey, it’s me. Just wanted to hear your voice one more time before I get to see you tomorrow, but maybe you crashed early? You’re turning into such an old man on me, love. Well, if you get this, give me a call back, I’ll be up for a while. And if not, well, I can’t wait to come home to you tomorrow. Love you.”

I’m checking every corner of my shitty motel room one last time to make sure I’ve packed everything when the phone rings about 5 minutes later. Figures, Alex probably crashed on the couch but woke up when he heard my message.

“Hey, gorgeous,” I murmur, “did I wake you up?”

“Gorgeous, huh? Finally seen the light? And no, you didn’t wake me up, I called you, genius. You eat paint chips as a kid, Red?”

“STONE! Fuck you dude,” but I’m laughing my ass off. “What do you want?”

“Child, you cut me to the quick. I’m supposed to want something if I call?”

“Well, A, you’re only two years older than me so cut the ‘child’ shit, and B, it’s you, so…”

“Okay okay, I give, you’re impossible,” he chuckles, “just wanted to say hi. Been a few days.”

Before I left, I’d told him to call me and annoy me every so often to keep me sane on this trip, and he’s been holding up his end of the bargain admirably.

“Yeah,” I grin. “So what’s new?”

I listen quietly while he rambles about the songs he’s writing with Mike, bitches about work, unpacks a tense but seemingly productive dinner he had with Jeff the other night to come to an agreement about working together in a new band. He asks about how the sampling trip is going, prods me for the nth time to make sure I’m coming to his birthday thing tomorrow. We take turns giving each other shit, as usual. After a while, the conversation falls into a comfortable silence and a quick glance at the clock shows that we’ve already been talking for almost an hour, although it’s only seemed like a few minutes have gone by. Somehow, Stone became one of those people to me faster than almost anyone else I’ve ever known. One of the ones you can talk about everything and nothing with, who gets the jokes and gives them back, who it’s easy to be easy with. After a while, he speaks back up.

“So, what are you getting me for my birthday?”

“Haha, presumptuous much? Just where and when am I supposed to be doing birthday shopping? Do you forget I’ve been marooned above the Arctic Circle digging in dirt for three weeks?” I’m giving him maximum sass, which is no less than he deserves, but I feel a spasm of guilt. In truth, I already found Chris a present, but I still have no idea what to get for Stone.

“No excuse for poor planning, Red.”

“Okay. Fossilized polar bear turd it is.”

“Nice talk.”

“You knew what you were signing up for.”

He clucks his tongue and sighs, but the conversation sags without his usual immediate zinger. “Yeah,” is all he says after a moment. I shake my head at the phone. He’s weirder than usual tonight.

“Alright, I’ll play. What do you want for your birthday?”

“I was just kidding, Cora, don’t get me anything. Just come hang out.”

“I can handle that. But that wasn’t my question.”

“I mean it. I just want to have a fun night with my friends. It’s… it’s been kind of a year, you know?”

Andy. I nod stupidly for a moment before remembering he can’t see me. “Yeah, yeah.” Once again, we fall quiet for who knows how long before he breaks the silence.

“So is Alex picking you up at the airport tomorrow?”

He hasn’t been giving Alex derogatory hillbilly names recently. I’m not even sure when that stopped, but I didn’t notice, and for whatever reason, I kind of miss it.

“No, my car’s there, I’ll drive myself home.”

“WHAT?? Where’s the romance in that? Come on, Jethro, step it up, buddy.” Oh, well there it is.

“And you are the expert on romance since when?”

“You don’t even know, Red,” he purrs. “Hey! Stop laughing! I’m serious!”

“Sure you are. Hate to inform you, Stoner, but Friday’s a work day for most productive members of society. My flight lands at like 2. I don’t expect the world to stop turning for me.”

“Yeah, but asking your boyfriend to meet you at the airport’s not asking the world to stop turning. It’s asking for something people are just supposed to do for one another. I’d think he’d want to.”

“I didn’t ask him!” I’m not even sure why I’m yelling. Are we fighting?

“Okay, okay. Easy. I didn’t mean anything by it.” There’s a bit of a pause, a strained one this time, and I’m not really sure what to say to fill it, but Stone speaks up after a moment.

“You know… if you ever need a ride to the airport, some of us unproductive members of society would be happy to oblige. You dropped everything to drive our asses all over the place when you barely even knew us. I’m just saying, I’m happy to return the favor anytime.”

“I…”

“Don’t make it weird, Cora. Just… just ask. Anytime.”

“Thanks, Stone,” is all I can manage to say as I turn the offer over in my mind. I’m genuinely touched, and also a little confused, before he breezes on like nothing happened.

“So we might have a line on a potential singer…”

#behind the sun #chapter 6 #fanfiction #fanfic #jeff ament #stone gossard #pearl jam

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