#haven’t texted him since my birthday in December

[floral-hex]

The growing anxiety of realizing that I’m running out of time to text my dad happy father’s day 😬

[reigningqueenofwords]

Pinky Promise

Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: 1,409

Read on AO3

“I have to go to my aunt’s wedding this weekend. So I won’t be able to play with you alllll weekend. I’m gonna be so bored.” You sighed, lying on the floor of the tree house your father built you a couple years prior. At 10, it was still your favorite place in the world. 

Dean made a face. “That sucks!” He was your best friend in the whole world, and you spent every weekend playing together. “What am I supposed to do? Play with Sammy?” 

You giggled at that. “Guess so.” You smiled at him. “What’re we gonna do when we grow up and get married?” You pouted. “We won’t be able to play every weekend together.” 

“Well, I just won’t get married if I can’t play with you.” He said easily. 

Sitting up, you had the look on your face that told him you had an idea. “What if we make a pinky swear?” You started. “If when we’re 25, we’re not married to other people… we get married.” Why wouldn’t you want to marry your best friend? 

He thought for a minute and held up his pinky. “Alright.” He grinned when you looped your pinky finger with his. 

It had been almost 15 years since that day. You hadn’t thought of that day in ages. Dean was still your best friend, too. That never changed, and neither of you let anyone get between the pair of you. Sure, there had been girls over the years that tried to get between you, but he swiftly dumped them. Chewing on your lip, you pulled up a text to Dean. Do you remember the pinky promise we made when we were 10? You sent. You and Dean shared a birthday, meaning both of you would be turning 25 in just over a month. 

After a few minutes, he replied. Sure do! 😉 He sent, making you chuckle and roll your eyes. Why, what’s up? Meet someone and need to back out? 

Your eyebrows shot up at that. Actually, I was just asking if you remembered. I mean, our birthdays are in a month. Don’t you think you should start looking at rings, mr? 😛 You sent, sitting up and looking around your room. It was December 20th, and you’d be driving home to your parents in a few days. You’d see Dean then, too. His parents lived a block over from yours. 

Who says I haven’t been doing that already? Hmmmm? He countered. 

You highly doubted that was the case. Are you trying to tell me that you, Dean Winchester, man who has never dated anyone for more than a year…has been looking at engagement rings and actually plans to make good on this 15 year old pinky promise? Getting up, you made your way to your kitchen. It was almost dinner time, but you didn’t know if you were actually hungry. Your mind was on overdrive. As you got older, you felt Dean would laugh off your pinky promise. He’d say you were just a couple of dumb kids. 

I take pinky promises extremely seriously. Especially ones with my best friend. He sent, making you smile softly at that. 

Please just don’t propose at Christmas in front of everyone lol That’s too much attention for my liking. You knew he’d understand. Small bits of attention were fine, but you liked blending into the background. He was the more outgoing of the two of you. 

I promise 😀 He assured you. What day are you getting here, anyway? 

The idea of dinner forgotten, you leaned against the counter. On the 23rd. You?  

You watched the little bubbles pop up on your phone, hoping he would get there early, too. Guess I’m getting there on the 23rd, too. Meet me in the tree house? I’ll bring the beer, you bring the pizza? 

Grinning, you giggled. Deal. Meet me there at about 4? 

It’s a date! 

The afternoon of the 23rd, you stepped into your parents house. “Dad!” You called out, dropping your bags. It was 2pm, so you had two hours before Dean showed up. 

“There’s my girl!” He grinned, pulling you into a hug. “How was your drive?”

“Good.” You told him. “We want to hang out in the tree house, but it’s cold. Help me hang up some blankets or something so we won’t freeze?” You asked, keeping your arms around him. 

He chuckled. “I did that yesterday. Dean called and tried to offer to pay for anything I need to make it a bit warmer out there. You could sleep out there. I made it so warm.” He said proudly. 

“Oh wow!” You chuckled. “Thank you! Where’s mom?” Although you’d seen them for Thanksgiving, you missed them a lot. 

“Getting ready for our date. I’m taking her out while you and Dean act like kids in the tree house again.” He kissed the top of your head. 

You laughed, looking forward to this time with your parents, and your best friend. As far as you knew, no one but the pair of you knew of your pact. You never mentioned it to your parents, or other friends. Dean never told you he’d told anyone, and he wasn’t one to be very open with many people. However, you also knew all parents involved would be excited. Your parents loved Dean, and his parents loved you. 

Dean hadn’t been lying. He had been looking at rings for you. He’d snuck into your childhood bedroom and borrowed a ring from your jewelry box when he was there for Thanksgiving. This way, he knew what size ring to get. He didn’t want to risk getting the wrong size. 

What you didn’t know was that part of the reason he never dated anyone for too long was because he kept this pact in mind. It had always been you. He crossed his fingers that you’d both reach 25, unmarried, and not in a serious relationship. 

He pulled into your parent’s driveway, grabbing the beer from the passenger’s seat. Part of him felt like he was coming home every time he got there. Smiling to himself, he made his way to the backyard. He could see some light from inside the tree house, and got excited. You were already in there. “Honey! I’m home!” He called, making his way up. It was a bit awkward with the bag with beer, but he managed. 

“Dean!” You beamed when you saw him. As soon as he was completely in the tree house, you all but tackled him. “I’ve missed you.” You pouted as you pulled away. 

He chuckled. “Well, here I am.” He swallowed. “I have something for you.” 

“Dean, Christmas is in two days. You can’t wait two days to give me my Christmas present?” You teased. 

“This isn’t your Christmas present. That’s in my trunk.” He told you, pulling out the small ring box. “I know we were just a couple silly kids when we made that pinky promise, but you’ve remained my best friend for all these years. You know just what to say on the days where everything has gone wrong. There’s no one else I could ever picture myself being with for the rest of my life. Will you make good on that pinky promise and marry me?” 

Your eyes were wide, and you felt a tear fall down your cheek. “Yes!” You grinned, watching him slip on the ring. “How long have you been planning this?” You giggled. 

“I borrowed an old ring of yours at Thanksgiving.” He admitted. “It’s on my nightstand. Kinda didn’t wanna give it back yet. And we spent a lot of time in this tree house, where else would I propose to you?” 

You couldn’t stop smiling. “Guess we should talk about moving closer together, huh? Or moving in together?”

“Actually…” 

Furrowing your brows, you weren’t sure what he was going to say. “What?” 

He looked proud. “I put a down payment on a house. Just a couple streets over.” He told you. “Your dad already has plans to buy a treehouse in that backyard.” 

“My dad knew about all this?” 

Dean shook his head. “He knows I’m buying that house, and that I’d like a treehouse like this one, but I didn’t tell him I was proposing.” While he knew your dad would approve, your dad might have let something slip. “So, looks like we have a wedding to plan, sweetheart.” 

“Damn right we do!” 

[darsynia]

Forgiven: joYOUs | CEO Steve/f!Reader series Part III

MCU MASTERLIST | STEVE MASTERLIST | Ro Roll | Prev Fic

Summary: You and Steve Rogers have been dating for a little over two months, and it's been wonderful. Through it all you've asked yourself if it could possibly be real--but when he finally invites you to stay over at his apartment, you realize that being 'real' has as much to do with his complicated issues at work as it does being a Hallmark movie protagonist brought to life.

WC/Warnings: 5,200 // explicit sex

As 6/7 of my Ro Roll badly-belated-birthday fics for @ronearoundblindly, joYOUs is part III in my CEO Steve and f!Freader series. This story also (more lightly than intended) is written for the 'first fall of snow' prompt for @the-slumberparty's December Daze!

Can be read standalone!

Excerpt:

“I have a confession to make,” Steve says in an apologetic tone.

Your mind springs to swift and miserable action: Somehow his good guy persona is a sham and he’s actually a real-life Christian Grey (honestly, you’d try it). This is all a bet and your naive honesty is embarrassing (horrifyingly plausible)...

Steve says, “--happened to it, I have no idea what, but the food’s ruined. We’re going to have to get take-out.”

His warm apologetic tone heats your fears into float-away steam, and you rush to reconnect with reality. “I’m sorry that happened, but I’m here for you, not your food,” you stammer out, only fully hearing what you’ve said once it’s already out there. “Shit, that came out--”

“--perfectly,” Steve laughs.

Joyous

You’ve tried not to read anything into the 36 hours of no-contact since Steve left on his business trip. He had warned you that he would be ‘can’t check the phone’ kind of busy, but you also know that his stress has ramped up considerably with the holidays coming up. You suspect that the café project hadn’t been enough of a respite--but you’d promised yourself not to push him too hard about his burnout, and that includes acting like it’s no big deal that you haven’t talked for a while. 

Just normal early relationship stuff, really.

That all drops away like an uncomfortable bra after a long day at work when you get a text at 10 PM Friday night.

🪴🪴🪴: We still on for tomorrow at 7? I’ve been thinking about you since the plane took off from LaGuardia.

🪴🪴🪴: Whoops i

��🪴🪴: was only supposed to send that first part.

🪴🪴🪴: Hit enter too e

🪴🪴🪴: Buck give me back the phone. Don’t send her anything, okay? You’re hopeless, man. You have to leave some mystery. If she had any idea how much you talked about her while we were gone, she’d probably quit her job and leave the state. What’s. Oh shit it’s recording. How do I make it. Give it back. Bucky I mean it just put it down before you screwdriver

Screwdriver?

The (thrilling) mess of words take a minute or two to detangle, and once you parse the dictated back-and-forth, you realize that Steve’s subsequent silence is probably mortification. Adorable mortification.

The phone rings on silent mode, buzzing wildly in your hand. Surprise makes you drop it on your lap like it’s alive-- which it might as well be, because the vibration sends it jittering across your indulgent silk pajamas and onto the floor.

“Shit!” you gasp out, knowing that any delay in answering will probably make everything much worse. You scramble off the bed in a move so inelegant your sister calls out asking if you’ve joined her in Broken Leg Land. “I’m fine, just an idiot!” you holler, finally grabbing the phone from your crumpled position on the bedroom floor.

“That’s not true at all!” Steve Rogers’ voice echoes from the speakers. You must have  brushed the ‘answer’ part when you picked it up, because of course that would happen.

“Oh my god, is there a deity of phones I’ve badly wronged today?” you gasp out, bringing the thing gingerly up to your ear. Thankfully, he’s chuckling, and damn, it’s sexy.

“Seems like it. Should we call this a draw?” he suggests, adding, “I evicted the phone thief, sorry about that. He just wants what’s best for me.”

“Which would be… screwdrivers?” you offer, grinning despite your rational brain screaming at you not to sound overeager. “You somehow don’t strike me as an orange juice and vodka kind of guy.”

“You’re right, and that was a nice deflect.” There’s gratitude as well as sheepishness in Steve’s voice. When paired with the ‘forbidden truths’ in the dictated texts, you may be sitting on the floor in twisted-up PJs, but your mind and heart are floating on a cloud somewhere high above Manhattan. “Should I send a car tomorrow?”

Surprise snarls the response in your throat into a twisted um-cough combo that is entirely indelicate. “Sorry, yes, that, yes,” you manage, kicking yourself. He runs a company, having a car service probably doesn’t seem impersonal to him, even though he’s always picked you up or met you somewhere before this. The Maiden Aunt in your brain tries to argue that the magic is over, but she’s drowned out by College TA, who thinks this is a step up in statistical importance.

Some girls get a devil on their shoulder, but you ended up with a pessimist and an overachiever.

“How about a do-over,” Steve says, interrupting your mental chaos. “Can I pick you up tomorrow?”

“Yes!” you say in a flood of relief. “I’m sorry, you said ‘send a car’ and all I could picture was one of those movies where someone in livery holds up a piece of paper with my name--”

He interrupts before you can gnaw past the foot in your mouth and up onto the ankle.

“I don’t mind driving, don’t worry. See you at seven, then.” With that, CEO Eye, Ear, and Heart Candy hangs up, leaving you in a flustered, anticipatory mess on the floor in your bedroom.

Jennie gives you relentless shit over that whole sequence of events, but she also gives you access to her closet. You’ve already run through your handful of fancy dresses on dates with Steve, and everything else gives you ‘someday I might go clubbing’ or ‘student on a budget’ vibes.

Your sister’s tastes run more expensive than yours, and she’s always been a fan of modular clothing-- skirts that wrap around, blouses with 3x as much fabric as necessary that end up folding and twisting into a masterpiece, etc. It’s worked out well for her while she’s laid up with a broken leg, but the unusual style might help you keep up appearances. You choose a black form-fitting pants topped with a silky wraparound blouse; hopefully they’ll look sophisticated enough for your first visit to Steve’s apartment.

True to form, Jennie makes three ‘wrapped present’ jokes about the two ribbon-tied sections of your shirt before you make it out the door.

Steve is waiting beside his car when you come outside. He’s clearly come from work, wearing tailored trousers and a crisp white shirt that looks so good you’re practically overheating in the brisk winter air. Then he smiles at you, and your body takes a detour from ‘visit to Arizona’ straight down to ‘the Brazilian Rainforest,’ all innuendo included.

Oblivious to your secretly disrespectful ogling, Steve moves to escort you to your car door, standing deliciously close by as he opens it. His aftershave smells heady and masculine, distracting enough that you turn your heel a little bit on the seam of the sidewalk. Your unbuttoned coat swings back and his hand moves to steady you, fingers tangling in the red ribbon holding your blouse together on that side.

“Oh!” you gasp, half because of his sheer strength and half because good god, if that bow comes undone on the street you’re not sure how much you’re even going to care right now. You gently grasp his hand (finding that, yep, the sizzling live wire connection on physical contact is still active), salvaging the knot for the sake of your sanity.

“Wow,” Steve breathes in a low voice that sends its resonance whizzing through your whole body. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you murmur intelligently.

You’re never going to tell your sister how many mental seconds it’s taken you to go from 0 to head over heels for this man.

“Do you need me to adjust the buckle? You were making a face,” Steve explains.

“Oh, no, I was coming up with something suitably embarrassing to text my nagging sister so she doesn’t send me ‘romantic suggestions’ all night,” you admit. “She means well, but I think she’s been watching too many Hallmark Christmas movies. Nothing I do or say will measure up!”

He chuckles. “I won’t comment on what my own nag might have to say on the outcome of the evening.”

“You mean the professional phone thief? He owes you, not the other way around! Telling secrets on dictation while your friend’s planning to bring a girl home-- and then sending it? Hung, drawn, and quartered.”

“Well, the method of delivery may have been terrible,” Steve says, looking over at you while paused at a red light, “--but none of that was a secret.”

The light changes, and just like Jennie’s favorite movies, he holds your gaze instead of driving on. You’re suddenly very aware of everywhere your clothing touches you, especially at your chest, where the fabric of your blouse clings to your curves. When you pull in a breath, Steve’s attention dips down to appreciate them, too.

“Eyes on the road, CEO Eye Candy,” you tease (not for the first time), and his expression scrunches up into easy laughter.

There’s an older, well-dressed couple in the parking garage to his building when you arrive, and the four of you ride the elevator up together until you and Steve step out. Just before the doors close, you catch the woman looking up at her husband fondly, nodding toward the two of you. No pressure! you think to yourself again, but then Steve opens the door to his apartment and smiles with such honest happiness that you forget everything else but him.

Just like he is, the main room is a charming mix of vintage and modern, with warm wood accents and high-tech amenities. There’s something both open and intimate that hits you right away; the floor is dotted with comforting rugs, the walls with bookcases, creating cozy little nooks, but the lamplight is warm and inviting throughout.

“I need to start the oven,” Steve says with a light touch to your arm, gesturing to take your coat. You nod and hand it over before you step farther in, finally letting yourself glance beyond the bookshelves of classics and the homey crochet afghan to the view. 

It’s completely captivating. The wall of windows face east, showing the lively cityscape to glorious effect (and you can’t help but picture what the sunrise would look like!). It suddenly hits you that you’re in Steve’s space. There are no phones to ring and save you from a misstep, no waitress to break the tension, no dog running past chasing its ball in the grass.

If he sees just how far gone you are on him already, will Steve think you’re a gold-digger, or will he understand that you can’t help but be dazzled and drawn in by the kind of man he is, not the things he surrounds himself with?

“Are you all right?” Steve asks. You startle, making eye contact with his reflection in the window, and something about the intimacy of that makes you tell the absolute truth.

“I’m realizing there are no flowerpots to hide behind.”

He smiles and moves closer, one hand casually in his pocket. When he’s just near enough that you can feel his warmth through the back of your blouse, Steve tips his head in a move that bleeds sincerity, still holding your gaze.

“What if you didn’t have to hide?”

You can’t look away. “What if that doesn’t make me any less shy?”

“Makes it all the more rewarding to earn that smile of yours,” Steve says, moving to face you instead of the view.

The weight of where you are, who you’re with, and how much it means to you keeps your gaze glued to the view outside the window, but the city lights blur a little with the frequency of your blinking. You want to reassure him that the shyness is good actually, that it means you really like him, that what he thinks about you is important--

“I have a confession to make,” Steve says in an apologetic tone.

Your mind springs to swift and miserable action: Somehow his good guy persona is a sham and he’s actually a real-life Christian Grey (honestly, you’d try it). This is all a bet and your naive honesty is embarrassing (horrifyingly plausible)...

Steve says, “--happened to it, I have no idea what, but the food’s ruined. We’re going to have to get take-out.”

His warm apologetic tone heats your fears into float-away steam, and you rush to reconnect with reality. “I’m sorry that happened, but I’m here for you, not your food,” you stammer out, only fully hearing what you’ve said once it’s already out there. “Shit, that came out--”

“--perfectly,” Steve laughs. You can’t help but toss him the Skeptical Eyebrow, despite your heart voting on the ‘melt’ option. “I’m being serious,” he goes on. “Honesty is in rare supply for much of my day-to-day. Suppliers expect us to push for cheaper materials, manufacturers are uncomfortable with flexible deadlines, and we’ve fired multiple product designers who get upset by how much we rely on end-user feedback.” He lets out a long sigh, punctuating it with a rueful laugh. “I felt more relaxed with the construction crew than I do with my so-called ‘peers.’”

The frustrated defeat in his tone makes you step close to tuck yourself up against his side, hugging him with an arm around his back. Steve’s arm comes around you right away, and god, you wish you could bottle that feeling. The two of you have shared quite a few toe-curling kisses, but physical affection like this is exciting, despite being prompted by Steve’s ongoing business concerns.

It’s easy to believe that this part of your life isn’t real when you’re at work answering phones and giving directions. You’re never prepared for the way Steve tips your life upside down, and in a way that makes moments like this more magical. Late at night, you do sometimes worry your job at his company makes it harder for him to disconnect.

With his heartbeat thrumming under your cheek and his arm tucked around you, that concern feels as far away as the streetlights visible across the city. There’s still a thread of tenseness in his embrace that tells you he’s not as relaxed as you are. You might not have the money to take him out for a fancy dinner or attend an exclusive event, but you can show him he’s wanted.

“So what you’re saying is that we should brainstorm another building project for the lobby? Preferably within sightlines of the front desk?”

You get to feel his laugh before you hear it.

“Oh, I wish. I’ve actually started looking into Habitat For Humanity, a couple of other hands-on charities,” Steve tells you, squeezing you tighter against him for a second or two. “They’ve got experience with higher profile contributors, safety concerns, that sort of thing.”

The moment hangs. Humor isn’t enough.

“That doesn’t solve the underlying problem though, because the problem isn’t you,” you realize aloud.

“You’re right.” Steve kisses your hairline, but you can sense that his metaphorically held breath isn’t going to release like this. You’re struck by the rightness of your reflection; the two of you fit together so well visually that it’s easy to miss his job insecurities and your uncertain future. Movement beyond the surface catches your eye, and you realize it’s the perfect way to break the tension.

“Oh! It’s snowing!”

“Those are some giant snowflakes.” He hugs you to him briefly before stepping over to a small panel on the wall. “May I?”

The more time you spend with him, the braver you feel. “I’m going to say yes, even though I don’t know what you’re asking.”

Steve’s answering smile is blindingly handsome. “Watch,” he says, nodding to the view. A second later the lights in the room dim or shut off, heightening the glowing cityscape outside. There’s a beauty to the familiar hodgepodge of buildings, more so with the fairy dust of snow drifting down from above.

“It’s like a snowglobe,” you say, tearing your eyes away from the scene to look at Steve. To your surprise, he’s not looking outside, he’s looking at you.

“May I?” he asks again. Heart pounding, you nod, and he walks toward you, his features thrown into sharp relief by the dim light. When Steve finally reaches you, the anticipation has doused you with fuel set alight by the touch of his hand at your cheek. 

This kiss is nothing like the gentle exploration that was your first with Steve. Where then you were still learning each other, this is knowledge. He lifts you up against him effortlessly, his thumb tangling with the ties of your blouse in a way that pulls it taut against your breasts. You let out a gasp as he kisses his way down from your neck over to the neckline of your blouse, making a begging sound of his own.

It sounds like enough of a ‘May I?’ that you whisper, “Yes.”

In three large strides he’s at the couch, setting you onto your feet as he sweeps the afghan and pillows out of the way. When he turns to face you again, you offer him the end of the ribbon tie holding your blouse together.

The reverence with which Steve pulls it loose is sexy as hell, but you absolutely adore the way he locks eyes with you and keeps your gaze when the fabric falls away. You pull in a ragged breath, and his gaze sharpens.

“What do you want?” he asks, his own answer ringing in the undertones.

You want everything, as far into the future as fate allows, but you force yourself to focus on the here and now. “I-- God, I just want you. I want-- oh!” You press your lips together to stop yourself, shy again. There’s honesty, and then there’s honesty. In that confident but gentle way he has, Steve knows exactly what to say.

“Whatever it is, yes.”

He takes your hand and backs the few inches to the couch, sitting down and tugging gently, a clear but respectful invitation. Steve takes a few seconds to just look at you, his eyes tracing across your features and down to the structure of your blouse. He’d mentioned his sketchbook at one of your early-on dates but never elaborated; now the way he unerringly follows each ribbon with his eyes, fingertips, and then lips make you feel like a work of art.

By the time your shirt drops to the floor, you’re practically drunk on the honest arousal you can taste on his lips--and you’re still mostly dressed! One thing you’re certain of: no one will ever make you feel as much like a medieval harlot and an object of worship at the same time like Steve Rogers.

Reluctantly, you draw back from his addictive kisses, pulling his hand from your cheek to briefly kiss his palm. “I’m going to ask you something, and you’re going to answer me without trying to smooth anything over, got it?”

Steve’s gaze darkens with an amused sort of interest. “I’ll see where you’re going with this, but you should know that there are two places I like to be in charge: the boardroom and the bedroom.”

His tone is gentle, but with an undercurrent of steel. You’re completely unable to stop the way your breath catches and your thighs clench. Sweet fires of hell, this man is perfect.

“It’s a deal,” you manage to squeak out.

“Go on, then.” Steve lifts a hand to brush his thumb along your hairline, down your cheek to press against your lips, dragging them open. From there, he continues to where the swell of your breast meets the lace of your bra, skirting your nipple by lifting his hand up to clasp with the other hand behind his head. Throughout, his gaze holds yours, intense and commanding.

“Sure, show me up, like I’m going to remember anything more than my own name, at this point,” you whisper-whine.

“I used it a few times on my recent trip.” His soft admission is in direct contrast to his casual, confident body language. You’re starting to realize there’s a stronger dichotomy to Steve than you thought. Will you get to have the kind, thoughtful boyfriend who saves you from an evening of elitist tedium and a fierce, possessive lover?

Will you survive, if so?

“Tell me. I’m getting a little jealous of whatever it is you’re thinking about,” Steve intones.

You stop biting your lip and grin. “I’m filing away these new pieces of information about you. Just… don’t ask me where I’m filing them.”

“Oh, I will.”

His voice is like a caress that cascades over you, pausing at your most sensitive places. You shiver, both for your own acknowledgment of the sexual tension and for him to appreciate his effect on you. After letting out a breath that’s more like a yearning sigh, you set your hands on the top button of his dress shirt. With Steve’s steady gaze on you, though, you’re questioning yourself.

“My plan sounds stupid in my head now, with you oozing all of this confidence.”

Immediately, his hand covers yours, setting off sparks with every swipe of his thumb on your skin. “At work it’s a facade, a persona, even--and not a flattering one. I didn’t think I could shake it off, the night of the gala. It’s more natural when--” He interrupts himself by pulling you in for a deep, passionate kiss.

“You’re not faking it here,” you observe minutes later. The whole concept is knocking you sideways, but-- ���Okay, I need to tell you I’m picturing you in one of those tailored suits commanding a room of powerful people and that is just sexy as hell.”

He rocks his hips up into you. “I’ll let them know--but, roll back a minute. What was your plan? Better yet,” Steve interrupts himself, setting a heavy hand on your hip to hold you still as he grinds up against you again. “Show me.”

His confidence is literally rubbing off on you. “All right, but fair warning: it’s very ‘over-eager receptionist peeks at you between decorative plants.’” As soon as the words are out of your mouth, his warm hand travels from your hip around and down, fingertips pushing aside your waistbands to firmly grip your ass.

“I know exactly who I’m here with.”

There’s enough of the altruistic, spend-a-week-building-with-the-bros tone in his voice to be reassuring, and you nod.

“Right, then.” Briskly, with the heat of arousal singing through you from every point of contact, you unbutton the top button of his dress shirt. “You’re kind.” Button two: “You’re moral and fair.” Your eyes are focused on your ‘work,’ but you can see Steve break into a smile. At button three, you’re almost halfway down. “You’re a hard worker.”

Steve lets out a deep ‘Mmmm’ sound. Thanks to his ass-grab leverage, he blatantly moves your hips in time with his for a cycle of thrusts that leave you breathless. You can’t look at him, so you clear your throat like a prudish schoolmarm and meticulously unbutton #4.

“You’re good at your… job.” It takes a little while to free this button, so you end up worrying your lower lip with your teeth as you try. Once you’re finished, with anticipation lifting every single hair follicle on your body, only then do you make eye contact.

He mutters ‘fuck’ and reaches between the two of you to unbuckle his belt, popping his trouser snap with an expression that challenges you to object.

There are two shirt buttons left.

You’re completely out of your depth, as desperate to come as you may have ever been in your entire existence, and you have zero idea what else to say--but you reach for button number five.

You wet your lips. Slowly.

Steve grips the couch with his free hand-- but the one he’s holding onto you with is still firm and not at all bruising (not that you’d mind. You’ll paint yourself with this man’s passion if he lets you). 

“You’re passionate.”

He makes a cut-off sort of growl in the back of his throat when you move to the last button. You can see the heavy bulge of his cock in his boxer briefs just an inch away from your palms. In a perfect world, you’d say ‘fuck it’ to coming up with another word. In a perfect world, you’d reward both of you by giving up and sliding to your knees, demonstrating exactly how much you appreciate this tall, sexy, beast of an honorable man--and then you have an idea.

Your borrowed pants have a simple clasp, and you move your hands slowly from Steve’s last remaining shirt button to release it, incidentally dragging across his straining cock as you do so. The blatant teasing gets ‘worse’ when you draw down your zipper, nudging, rubbing, and pressing until it’s fully unzipped.

Throughout, Steve’s hand on your ass remains steady, but his breathing grows more and more ragged.

Finally, you lift your hands up and away, denying him any more contact before dropping down to reach for the last button.

“You--” he rumbles, but you interrupt him with two words.

“You’re patient.”

With a practically incomprehensible oath that thoroughly refutes your last impudent compliment, Steve shoves down your loosened clothing and angles the two of you to the side on the couch, all in a single action. Then he sinks two fingers inside you roughly, both of you groaning at the desperate, glorious pleasure of it.

You cram a fist in your mouth, but he stops in the middle of his one-handed shucking of his pants and boxers to yank your fist free.

“All through that shitty conference I imagined the noises you’d make tonight,” Steve grits out, looking down at you with naked desire in his eyes. He twists his fingers mid thrust, and you can’t help but cry out, your hips chasing every movement his talented, devastating fingers perform on you.

You’re already so close. The white-hot, catastrophic release starts to cloud your vision, stayed only by your delayed understanding of what he just said.

“Wait, you’re saying during the--”

Steve kicks the last inches of his lower clothing free and swaps hands deftly, spreading your arousal on his cock with an ‘Mmmm’ of pleasure so filthy you flutter around his fingers in pre-orgasmic shock.

“Thinking about you genuinely kept me sane, and I'm going to turn those daydreams into reality,” he rasps, a modern Greek god with the morals of a saint and the body of a satyr, as if you could ever do anything but gratefully worship him.

You mouth something like the word “Yes,” too desperate for anything more coherent.

The pleasure that follows his first deep thrust is ruinous. You forget everything but Steve, the taste of praise on his lips, the delight his touch chases across your skin, and most of all, the power he arches into you, music and mayhem and meaning, all at once. By the time you’re shuddering around each other you’ve ended up on the floor in front of his couch--and you only notice because Steve’s got a hand cradling the back of your head.

“I’m out of adjectives,” you whisper weakly. “All of the good ones. Most of the naughty ones. Fuck, other languages, too. Even extinct ones. You’re fluent in everything.”

Steve pulls you to his chest and does something athletic that ends with you on the couch beside him, his soft homemade afghan covering the most pertinent parts of your nakedness.

“You make me want to be fluent in everything,” he murmurs. “And, thank you.” Steve grabs his shirt and holds it in front of his crotch. “I’ll get a washcloth.”

He’s jogging farther into the apartment before you can respond, but something about his protective actions trigger a flurry of realization, something you should be--

Oh.

The fall of snow past the giant picture windows brings reality crashing into you. You just had glorious, intense, messy sex in a room that is visible from other nearby buildings!

Steve reappears with a soft-looking washcloth. He’s wearing pajama pants, with what looks like a matching long-sleeved top slung over his shoulder.

“I forgot about the windows,” you say in a small voice, taking the washcloth and using it under the afghan.

“Oh, right,” he says in a completely un-worried voice. Steve looks over at you, sees the half-scared expression on your face, and his demeanor sort of… softens. It’s both obvious and hard to quantify, and it hits you that he’s almost certainly done that before, even if you hadn’t noticed. You imagine there’s a lot of things his clothes and a carefully-crafted facial expression would cover for. He sits down beside you on the couch and offers you the shirt as he says, “The couch is recessed enough into the room that it’s not very visible, I think, but I wasn’t thinking, and I should have asked you about that. I’m sorry.”

He looks like he’s about to say something else, and you ask him about that while pulling on his proffered pajama top, juggling the blanket in the process.

“Would it be strange to say I get very… goals-oriented?” he asks, rueful and amused in equal measure.

“How much different a ‘persona’ are we talking, here?”

The question is meant playfully, but Steve takes long enough to answer that you can feel the warmth of the washcloth start to fade in your hand.

“Too different for comfort, I’m coming to realize.” 

He reaches for the washcloth, but you pull it close and get up, gesturing for him to lead you to wherever you can rinse it out. On the way, you can’t help but eye the windows in a new way, perhaps as unintentional adversaries.

“I haven’t let myself be truly seen in a long time,” Steve says as you drape the rinsed washcloth on a drying rack in the dimly-lit kitchen area. “The reason is--well, it might be insulting, but it’s honest.”

You resist the urge to hug your arms around yourself. He’s given you a shirt to wear that matches his, and you were serious with those compliments earlier, despite the pleasure-wrought desperation you felt as you spoke them. “Go on?”

“You’re yourself with me. Not fawning. There’s no facade, no attempt to pretend you have more money or influence. That’s rare. Precious even.”

His statement stings, despite everything that’s happened tonight, despite the way his compliment hews off the rough edges. There’s no derision or judgment in his tone, so you smile at him, albeit stiffly. 

“I don’t really have a way to hide those things. I’m me. I figured if you were bothered by--” you wince, feeling a sense of inferiority rise up inside you (dropped out of college, pulled out of your internship, entry-level job, depleted nest-egg, caregiver for your sister, baggage, baggage, baggage) before you wrestle it all back down. “--any of that, you’d move on, and I wouldn’t be able to stop you.”

“I don’t want to move on,” Steve says firmly, brushing his hand over your hair as if to adjust the disarray that came from putting on his shirt. “I want to move forward, even if that means you can see through some of the windows I usually cover with curtains. Will you be exclusive with me?”

“I’d really like that,” you whisper, overcome. “And not just because you fuck like a complete god.”

The words slip out before you can fucking stop them, and you gasp, the tidal wave of your social inferiority to a man like Steve coming blasting through all the tentative bridges you’ve just built. You hear buzzing in your ears, your vision is misted over with regret--but seconds later, you realize he’s laughing.

“Okay I swear on every single deity that exists, I wasn’t supposed to say that out loud! I’m so sorry,” you groan, your relief over his amusement barely tempering the metallic tang of adrenaline on your tongue.

Your… your boyfriend Steve Rogers takes your hand in his and lifts it up, bowing over it before kissing it with more chivalry than a whole season of Game of Thrones. Even one of the early ones.

“Sweetheart, you’re forgiven.”

<- Previous story...

[emsgwenstan]

Personal or professional?

Larissa Weems x fem(carpenter/joiner) named reader

Chap 5| chap 6| chap 7

Words: 3k

Warnings: insecurity’s, swearing.

Note: another fill in chapter… this gif☝️is the look she gives Violet about the door lol.

Well it’s official, It’s the 12th of December and my dreaded birthday, another year of being alive, I guess I should be grateful but only 2 hours until I can go home and sleep! Jesus I really am getting old. I do wish I could see Larissa today but I don’t want to disturb her, we have been texting since that day which was three days ago now, I drove her home that night and the next morning she sent me a message saying good morning and I thought that was really sweet, but this morning she hadn’t said anything, I don’t need to read into it though, I just hope I haven’t done anything wrong. My phone started to ring in my pocket and just when I thought it was her I was wrong.

*Louise*

“Happy birthday vi!” She yelled.

“Thanks Lou.” I said chuckling.

“Happy birthday vi.” I heard jades sultry voice say on the other line.

“Oh yeah jays here too.” Louise said.

“Wanna wish auntie vi happy birthday?” She added.

“Happy birthday auntie violet!” Lou’s daughter lily shouted.

“Aww thanks guys, how is everyone?” I asked.

“Yeah we’re all pretty good, how are you though? You’ve been pretty quiet… perhaps finally found someone?” Louise said teasingly.

My face burned, how am I supposed to say yes I’ve met and fallen in love with someone, we’ve had sex and yet we’re still in a what do they call it now? situationship? Friends with benefits? Let alone it being with a woman- not that they’d be very surprised.

“I have been getting out more and no I’m not with anyone.” I said.

“Let’s hope you find someone vi we don’t want you to be alone forever.” Jade said in a sing song voice.

“Shut the fuck up, says you your a hoe, a serial seducer.” I laughed.

“Ok lily go to your room for a minute.” Lou said.

“Oh my god sorry!” I said.

“Aunt of the year award goes to Violet.” Jade said mockingly.

“Agh, anyway guess what?” I asked.

“What?.” “Mhm?” From the both of them.

“I’ll see you guys at dads this year.” I said.

“What! You’re actually gonna show up!?” Louise said.

“Yeah but I’m not gonna be alone, I’m bringing my… friend Larissa.” I said awkwardly.

“Ooooo Larissa.” They said in unison. I could just imagine them looking at each other knowingly.

“Please… anyway I’ll be there for a week then I’m going to see my mum.” I stated.

“We haven’t seen you for ages, oh and by the way dad has been such a dick lately, all he talks about is fucking golf.” Jade said.

“When isn’t he a dick, and that doesn’t surprise me, I’m not going for him though I’m coming to see you guys.” I spoke.

“Yeah well we will be there for like 9 days I think, we really need to go out all together again, I know I need to get hammered.” Louise said laughing.

“Agreed I know just the place.” I said.

“We know.” They both said giggling.

“Ok well I’m at work so I need to go but I’ll see you guys then ok?” I said.

“Alright we love you sis.” Lou said.

“Love you guys, tell lily and Lottie i love them to.” I said.

“Will do, bye.” She said.

“Bye.”

I went back to stacking lengths of timber in their designated racks and began to wrap up the rest of my stuff getting ready to come home.

Finally in the threshold of my house, I kicked off my boots and tore off my work clothes, it was so fucking hot I felt like I was suffocating. The heat was up so high last night because it was freezing and I forgot to turn it off this morning as well as having the fire going. Turning it off and keeping the fire going I went and jumped in the shower quickly to rinse off the sawdust and settle in for the night.

Hopping into bed I let my hair out of the tight ponytail it’s been in all day letting it fall over my pillow and just like that I passed out. It was only 6pm but I didn’t care it was much needed, although it wasn’t until a while later when I could feel my body slightly shaking that I awoke again. “Wake up darling.” A hushed voice spoke, I know that accent anywhere, why is she here? how is she here? I rolled over slightly with my eyes cracked open, Larissa was standing beside me with a hand delicately wrapped around my bicep.

“Good morning.” She teased. “What are you doing here? How did you get in here?” I asked sleepily. Larissa brought her hand to my face stroking my cheek lightly. “I did knock, but no answer. The door was unlocked, I should have rung you I’m sorry.” She said in haste. “No, no it’s fine you’re welcome you don’t even need to knock.” I said rubbing my eyes. Larissa smiled warmly. “Sit up for a moment I’ll be right back.” She said leaving the room. I’m still a little bit delirious wondering if this is even real or not, but the fact that I could feel her gave me every indication that it was. Slowly I sat up and realised I’m only wearing underwear, I clutched my duvet to my chest and sat cross legged against my head board.

Larissa waltzed back in with a large box in her hands, the sound of her heels clacking on the floor boards getting closer gave me more anticipation wondering what was going on. She perched herself on the edge of my bed and placed the huge box in my lap, it was a deep red with a crimson, satin bow on top. I looked at her with curiosity and a small smile. “Open it.” She said gesturing me to do so. Slowly I undid the ribbon and opened the box, I could smell it first, the large bouquet of red and dark red- almost black roses that lay on top. “Oh Larissa, these are beautiful.” I said plucking them out and smelling how heavenly they are. “How did you know these were my favourite… not just the flowers but the colours.” I asked jokingly. “I have my ways.” She said. I giggled at her and lay the roses next to me and continued to open the layers of tissue paper.

The next thing was clothing of some sort, pulling it up I gasped. “It’s beautiful.” I said astonished, the black dress was gorgeous, intricate black beads lined the off the shoulder cut out and strapped top, the thigh slit down the side and the cuffs of the sleeves. “Why did you get me this?” I asked incredulously. “Because you deserve it.” She said blatantly. “I’m afraid I don’t think it will fit.” I said solemnly. “It will, I promise.” She ensured moving the tissue further out of the way to indicate there’s more. Carefully I laid aside the dress as well and took out the next thing. A large black coat with fur around the hood, sleeves and bottom. My eyes lit up and I became speechless. Trying to catch a sneaky look at the tag, I didn’t find a price or size instead the words ‘Vivienne Westwood’ in scribed on it. “What the fuck.” I breathed, I looked at the dresses tag and the same thing was embedded.

“There’s more.” She said suggestively. I looked at her with wide eyes and put aside the coat. Underneath was a shoe box and another thing wrapped with tissue paper, I opened that first unraveling the fragile paper. My cheeks burned, when I came to relise it was lingerie, a set of scarlet red lace, a bra with matching panties. I admired them, running my fingertips along the intricacies of the material, I gave a shy and quiet thank you to Larissa and set them aside too. The last thing was the shoe box that made my breathing stop. ‘Cristian louboutin’ no fucking way.

Larissa could see my face at the sight of it, how much I was in shock and awe even without seeing what’s in it. I took off the lid and just about had a heart attack, slick black heels lay next to another adorning the familiar red bottoms. I turned to Larissa with a gaping mouth and wide eyes. “How- why…I. Larissa I’ve wanted these shoes since I was 17!” I screeched. She grinned and put her hand on my wrist. “Happy birthday darling.” She whispered sweetly. Again I melted. “Oh rissa, I don’t know if I can accept these.” I said softly. “Yes you can, I wanted to give you something to make you feel beautiful, and I know that black makes people feel slimmer- not that you need to of course! I just…-god, I thought I could help you feel better about yourself and show you how beautiful you are my sweet.” She said feeling horrible at how that sounded. “No I understand, it’s very thoughtful of you. Most of my clothes are black.” I said smiling.

“And I think red looks gorgeous on you too.” She said. I immediately remembered that I wore a red bra that day and that’s what she was pertaining to. Larissa was very close it was harder to not be under her piercing gaze, I put the box next to me and wrapped my arms around her neck, slowly I leaned in and hoped she wouldn’t pull away, I placed a chaste kiss to her lips grinning into it. “Thank you lovely.” I said into her ear still hugging her. “You’re very welcome.” She said pulling back. “Now I hope it’s ok with you but I made reservations for 8:00, so go get changed into these and we can go get dinner?” She said questionably. “You didn’t!” I said. She stood from the bed and reached for my hands to help me up, I stood and covered my stomach feeling a little self conscious again.

Larissa grasped my wrists, moved them away and looked in my eyes. “Don’t hide from me darling.” She said placing another kiss on my forehead. She turned on the spot and left me to get changed. In the bathroom I painted on some make up opting for dark eyeshadow and lipstick a few shades darker than Larissa’s, I curled my collarbone length blonde hair and put on my gold necklace with a ‘v’ initial and a few rings from the dish on the sink. I slipped on the red lingerie with a smirk and then the dress, for a moment my heart sank when the sip at the back wouldn’t go up, but turns out it was just caught on the material, it slid up my back with ease. I slipped on the shoes and couldn’t stop the excitement that spread through my body as I did so.

Looking in the mirror, I stared at myself, I hadn’t even realised I had a waist, the shoes are what I kept looking at and my calf muscles that sculpted due to the height. Larissa carefully opened my bedroom door and walked up behind me, I looked at her in the reflection giving a timid glance, she pressed herself to my back and gently put her head on my shoulder and moved her hands to meet around my front, her palms smoothed out the fabric and stopped at the swell of my stomach. “You look stunning.” She said kissing my temple. “Thank you.” I said. “Shall we go?” She asked. “Yeah.” I grabbed the coat and put it on.

Going past the kitchen and hallway I grab my keys from the dish. “What are you doing?” She asked. I dangled the keys giving her the hint I’m driving. “No, I’m driving.” She said plucking them out of my hand and putting them back down. Larissa walked out the door and I followed behind her, she stepped to the passenger side and opened the door for me, I giggled at her chivalry. She walked to the other side and sat in the drivers seat. “Ooo the woman knows how to drive stick.” I said as a joke. “Yes I do, something else we have in common.” She said turning on the car and reversing out of the drive way.

Once she went thought the gears, Larissa placed her hand on top of mine and curled her fingers into my palm, the butterflies in my stomach were alive and well at this point, not that they ever go away when I’m with her. When she down geard and sadly removed her hand from mine it must have meant we’re close, but when I saw the place my eyes just about bulged out of my head. Larissa killed the engine and stepped out, just as I open the door she glared at me through the windscreen, I laughed throwing my head back and closed the door again. She made it to the other side and reopened the door extending a hand to me.

I stepped out onto a gravel driveway and kept a hold of her hand. She closed the door and started to lead me in the direction of the restaurant. “Wait.” I said stopping. Holding her hand I took off my shoes and started walking again until we made it to cement and put them back on. I looked at her confused face. “I want to savour and look after these shoes.” I said. “Oh.” She chuckled, we made our way up the grand steps to the front door. This place was about ten minutes out of town and secluded by trees, the building was a tan colour and had pillars surrounding it, pot plans and ivy covered the exterior, a red carpet rolled down the stairs and the large double doors open wide with a ‘please wait to be seated’ sign on the wall outside of them.

Larissa glanced at me as a young woman greeted us. “Hello ladies, booking name?” She asked. “Weems.” Larissa said. “Yes, right this way.” She lead us into a massive dining hall, intimate tables with candles and silver alike, chandeliers vaulted from the ceiling, paintings, even live music with people playing violins and other sweet sounding instruments, a dance floor- for those who actually dance, it was beautiful and it felt right to be here experiencing this with Larissa, if I came here without her, she would be the one I’d tell this place about. “Here you go.” She sat us in a green velvet booth and placed two menus on the table then left.

“I didn’t even know this place existed.” I said. “Do you like it?” She asked shrugging off her cream coat, Larissa was wearing a plum coloured silk blouse and a matching cream pencil skirt, my breath hitched at the sight of her, somehow she seemed nervous, the woman who exudes power, authority and confidence is nervous, but then again I know its not the first time around me, but as if I do that to her, its probably just because she wants me to have a good night. “Absolutely, I really don’t deserve this-.” “Yes you do.” She said cutting me off. I took a deep breath and changed the subject. “Any idea what you feel like?” I asked. We both went through the menu together, decided on our choices and ordered.

Larissa and I were having a conversation about what we both did today when we were interrupted by a man who seemed to know her. “Larissa, I thought that was you.” He said. She looked up and let out a sharp exhale through her nose forcing a tight lipped smile. “Mr jones, lovely to see you.” She said speaking though here teeth. “Likewise, I don’t see you out of that school often.” He said. Larissa bit the insides of her cheeks quite literally refraining herself from spitting a very unkind insult his way. “Yes well Marcus, I do have a life.” She said bitterly, if looks could kill. His line of sight went to me. “And who is this?” He asked. If it were anyone else, She would have felt compelled to say ‘oh forgive me how rude I didn’t introduce you sooner’ instead she kept her back handed behaviour. “This is violet Hastings, my very good friend… now if you don’t mind we would like to enjoy our dinner.” Her voice sounding like venom. “Nice to meet you, I suppose I should get back to my wife.” He said awkwardly leaving.

The silence was killing me. “Ok what was that?” I asked chucking. Larissa let out a huff and turned to face me. “That was Marcus jones, a sleazy twit… also a board member.” She explained whilst simultaneously taking a sip of the wine the waitress brought over. “He did seem a bit smug.” I said sidding with her. “He’s an imbecile, all he does is make my job harder and tries to deny my advances for the schools funding and changes.” She said twisting the stem of the glass on the table. “Not to mention, every Thursday night he goes and screws his assistant, how cliche.” She rasped, throwing back the remaining wine in her glass. I raise my eyebrows in response. “I was a bit harsh wasn’t I?” She asked grasping my thigh under the table. “No, because if it were me id have been worse, you did a great job.” I said. Larissa laughed. A real laugh. It was loud and turned a few heads, but I didn’t care id love to hear it again and again and again. She covered her mouth with her fingers trying not to do it again. She never fails to make me weak.

The dim lighting made her look even more delectable then she already is and I found myself staring at her. “What?” She asked noticing. “Your just…ethereal? I don’t even know how you real.” I said lowly. “Stop it.” She giggled looking down. “I don’t think you know how pretty you are Larissa.” I spoke. “I could say the same about you vi.” She said tightening her grip on my thigh. The waitress brought over our food and left us to eat alone again. Once we were finished a flurry of people went to the dance floor with each of their partners. “Would you like to dance violet?” She leaned in to whisper. “Oh I don’t dance.” I said. “Please?” She pushed. Looking in her eyes I tilted my head, I can’t say no to her. “Sure.” I said reluctantly. Larissa took my hand and guided me to the floor.

On perfect queue the music started, the tune was familiar, experience I think it was. Everyone began to slowly sway to the music as if their bodies were one, Larissa held onto my waist and brought my hand to her shoulder, I placed my free hand in hers and began to dance. She was wonderful, so free and loose, Larissa let herself succumb to the music and I did the same, the stronger the tune the more contrived the movements, Larissa spun me about like they do in those ridiculous romcoms but Christ it felt like I was in one, her gaze never faulted, eyes piercing into my own as if the whole world disappeared. When the music went softer Larissa braced her arms around my torso and I joined my other hand to her vacant shoulder and let my head rest in the crook of her neck.

"May I cut in?" A voice said behind my shoulder, as I turned there standing was that same halfwit Marcus, asking me to dance. I looked to Larissa for help, she said nothing only looking down at her feet. "Um...I-." I began about to reject his offer. "Great!" He took my hand and I was dragged of with him, as a new song started I couldn't stop staring at Larissa, she stepped away sitting back at the table hardly watching what was going on, like the big ball of anger I am sometimes, I felt obliged to peruse my next move, as he was twisting me around like a monkey on steroids, I leaned back and stopped on his foot with my heel and elbowed him in the face. "Oh! my apologies I'm a horrible dancer.” I said with faux forgiveness. Immediately I ran back to Larissa.

"Why didn't you save me." I said sternly and out of breath. "You looked happy with him." She said fiddling with her fingers. "I beg your pardon? I’m sorry but if that's what I look like when I'm happy with someone then I must look insane when I'm with you." I expressed sitting down again. "Did you not just see what happened." I asked. "Yes, I must say it was a little entertaining." She said giving me a meek smile. "good. But why didn’t you do anything?” I asked. “I don’t know… I’m sorry I just thought-.” “It’s fine, I mean he had that coming.” I said. We sat together for a while and before I excused myself and went off to find the lavatory leaving Larissa at the table alone again.

*Larissa’s pov*

I’m so glad violet likes the gifts I gave her, she looks breathtaking, I feel deeply saddened that she doesn’t see herself through my eyes, but I do suppose no one sees their own beauty like others. I hope I didn’t take it to far when i gave her the lingerie, i just couldn’t help myself. Violet is an incredible woman, shes smart and witty, she’s kind and full of skills i could only dream to obtain, she makes me feel like I’m the only person in the room as if i were so interesting, a 48 year old who lives and breathes to work and is unbelievably stubborn, something else we have in common i think. I adore all the things about her she views as flaws but somethings telling me that there’s still more to her, but in time i hope to learn them all.

I feel so guilty I did nothing to stop that asshole from taking Violet away from me, I thought we had a special moment, I guess my own insecurities came to play, the last time I danced with somebody I was with mortica and that didn’t end well, why would it with her?

I observed her as she came back to the table, her legs are stunning and she can definitely walk in heels, i do find that people our height can do a good job in them if i do say so myself, I’m pleased that she insists on taking care of them, even if she didn’t id just buy her a new pair. Before she sat i offered to take her home, we had been here well over two hours and thought she would appreciate actually going home. “Sure.” She said. I stood and draped my own coat over my shoulders and placed my hand in the small of violets back to go and pay. As already anticipated she tried to debate on who was paying but in the midst of it i handed the poor waitress my card, the glare i received when violet heard the beep on the machine was endearing, she did look as though she could physically hurt me but i kept my laughter at bay.

Exiting the restaurant, violet stopped and moved her head to gaze at the stars above, it was very beautiful, no light pollution, no noise, just the stars, moon, violet and I, although i found my view much better than hers. The reflection in her eyes and the soft glow of the out side lights from the restaurant made her impossibly more beautiful, that doesn’t even sound like the right word, but it will do.

*violets pov*

The sky was extraordinary I haven’t seen it like this for a while, but my gaze was cut short when Larissa ushered me to the car and opened my door again. On the ride home I placed my hand in her lap playing with the material of her skirt, I was so relaxed that I eventually fell asleep, the soft hum of the radio and the smell of her perfume lulled me to dose off. Larissa opened my door and gently coaxed me awake and let me rest against her side as she walked us inside.

By the time we made it to my room I had woken up a bit more and turned to Larissa. “Are you ok?” I asked. “I’m fine.” She said. I took off my heels and placed them inside my robe out of the way, I saw her looking down at the floor as she sat on the edge of my bed. Trying to find a way to lighten the mood I reached for my small speaker and turned it on, flicking through my phone I found a song to play, set down my phone and pulled her to stand. Larissa looked at me confused wondering what’s going on, I placed her hands around my neck and I locked mine around her waist and pressed my body to hers.

I hummed along to the tune and swayed to the slow rhythm, Larissa rested her temple on my forehead and sighed. “I don’t dance for just anyone you know.” I whispered in her ear, I could see the small smile across her face. “Violet?… why are you doing this?” She asked still wrapped around me. “Because you deserve to know that you’re cared for to, because you’re special and you would do the same for me.” I said. Larissa was quiet after that, but she did grip me a little tighter and breathe a little deeper.

After the song stopped I paused it and started to get changed. Larissa offered to drag down my zip, I stepped out of my dress and picked it up hanging it neatly inside the wardrobe. Just as I was about to enter the ensuite to change Larissa’s voice rang through the air. “Wait!” She said. I turned on the spot and looked at her flickering eyes and ridged stance, I was silent waiting for her to continue. “I-I… was wondering if you could just… stay- in what you have on.” She mumbled. My eyes widened at her ask, my stomach riddled with butterflies.

Larissa’s gaze met mine and slowly she stepped out of her heels, removed her coat and pulled off her blouse and skirt, only left standing in her underwear. My gaze never left her, not once, I don’t recall I actually blinked to be frank. “Is it ok if I stay?” She asked. I paced back towards her and discarded the clothes I’m not going to be changing into on the floor, I took ahold of Larissa’s hand and threw back the covers of my bed and crawled in before her. I found a comfortable position on my side and laid out my right arm for her to rest her head on, to which she did.

There were no sounds, no interruptions, no one else but us- half naked and left in only undergarments, Larissa’s long limbs were intertwined with my own and the way she studied my face made blood rush to my cheeks, I did the same though- studied her that is, stroking her hair and tracing unknown shapes along her jaw and lips, especially over her scar. “What are you thinking?” I whispered, Larissa’s eyes fluttered to mine. “It’s silly.” She hummed softly. “Tell me? I’m sure it’s not.” I said back. “I’ve not been this… close to a normie before.” She expressed. I adjusted my head a little. “And what does that mean to you, is that a good thing or a bad thing?… are you saying that your view on me would change if I were?” I said sitting up a little. “No of course not i just mean, I haven’t been exposed to any normie that has been… well, like you.” She said sheepishly.

I sat mulling over the conversation, on one hand it’s disheartening to hear that she hasn’t been accepted due to the fact of being an outcast, and on the other I suppose she still hasn’t… “I know that was rather odd of me to bring up but it was just something that I had been thinking about, it’s nice to see that normies and outcasts can be civil.” She murmured. I felt a tinge of guilt gnaw in my stomach, just wait for the right time Violet. “No I get it, really, especially since you dedicate your life to ensuring your students feel accepted for who they are.” I said laying back down.

For a while it was quiet and peaceful, Larissa was the one who fell asleep first, but as I rolled over she slightly roused earning an almost incomprehensible statement. “Happy birthday Violet, my sweet sweet girl.” She left her head against the back of my shoulder and pulled me by the waist to rest against her front. “I love you Larissa.” I breathed but with no response I knew she had fallen asleep.

@lex13cm @im-a-carnivorous-plant @barbarasstar

@giogwensversion @sabraaabra

@readingtheentrails @readingtheentrails

[veronicaphoenix]

Chapter tags & trigger warnings: slight angst, but basically best friends' fluff, Japanese folklore. | Word count: 1.4k | Cross posted on AO3. | Series masterpost. ✧.*

General trigger warnings: This work addresses and depicts issues related to addiction and violence, contains explicit sexual content, and explores themes of childhood trauma. Reader discretion is advised. +18

Months were passing by, some quicker than others, and my condition worsened at times, particularly when I found myself without any updates from Lia for more than a couple of days. Despite my attempts to convince myself otherwise —ignoring Grandma’s speculations and theories— there was an undeniable correlation. Whenever Lia was around, I couldn’t deny that I felt much better. The persistent cough subsided, the fever abated, and the general malaise faded, if only temporarily.

A week before Thanksgiving, I awoke to a text from Lia, and we exchanged messages for about ten minutes before she went offline.

Twenty minutes later, the doorbell rang and when I opened the door, there she was, all fresh and lovely while I was still in my pjs and trying to adjust my eyes to the bright light of the day.

Jesse and Jolly were absent until December first, so I was alone in the house with my music and my coughed-up flowers. Mitch was also on tour with the band he worked for, which possibly explained Lia’s unexpected visit, a radiant smile on her face as she conveyed that she was there to make sure I didn’t die.

“Very funny,” I mumbled as I let her in.

She pecked my cheek and headed towards the kitchen, her jasmine scented perfume leaving a trail from the door to wherever she went. She asked if I had already had my breakfast. I hadn’t.

“Perfect,” she replied, cheerful. “I brought some things from that bakery that Jolly loves so much. You can send him a picture and make him a little jealous.”

“That looks too much for breakfast,” I said, frowning at the three bags full of foil containers and little brown packagings she was depositing on the kitchen island.

“I also brought lunch,” she said while taking off her coat. “I know it’s early, but it’s been a while since we treated ourselves and I know you probably haven’t been cooking much if you were sick, so…”

She looked at me with those beautiful brown eyes. So, what could I say?

Her gaze swept over the clean surfaces of the kitchen. Everything was cleaner than usual. Jolly wasn’t one to spend much time cleaning, even after years of sharing a living space and countless arguments about keeping the dirty dishes in the dishwasher instead of leaving them in the sink.

“But we should prepare something healthy for dinner, if you’re feeling ok, of course.”

“I’m okay,” I replied, peering into the containers she’d brought. Besides from a crazy number of pastries and sandwiches, Chinese. She definitely knew how to spoil me.

When I said that, my tone unintentionally carried a nuance I hadn’t meant to express. I was fine, really, happy to have her home, especially with Mitch miles away and unable to keep her away from me. Lia, however, must have sensed something else and had other thoughts racing through her pretty head.

After devouring breakfast and spending a while together in the studio, working on the production of a couple new songs, we had lunch, and straight after cleaning up and sorting out the recycling, we settled on the sofa, our knees lightly brushing. I pulled a coin from my pocket, flipping it to decide between horror movies or fantasy. Lia chuckles as my choice emerged victorious. Retrieving the remote from the coffee table, I scrolled through the new fantasy releases on AppleTV.

Focused on removing the subtitles from The Green Knight, I felt Lia’s intense gaze fixed on me. She had been staring for at least two long minutes.

“What?” I inquired. “Do I have something on my face?” I lightly touched the side of my face.

“No,” she replied, suppressing a giggle. “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry I missed your birthday this year.”

Ah, so this was the internal struggle she’d been battling herself for since arriving. It was obvious because of the way she’d been behaving; something was gnawing at her, likely guilt. Lia had never missed any of my birthdays since we first became friends, except the year I turned eleven. She’d been bedridden with a severe cold. Even then, she had fought to come, but Cristina forbade her to leave the house. Probably one of the only good things she ever did for her daughter.

Though I wasn’t sure if her intentions had been for her daughter to get better or to just keep her from enjoying other kids’ company.

This year marked the second time Lia had missed my birthday. I pretended not to care, but I had gone to bed drunker than usual, and I couldn’t lie to myself; deep down, I couldn’t deny that it stung not having her there, making me laugh and getting constant hugs and cheerful compliments as we moved around the house to the rhythm of music playing through the speakers. The worst part had been that she wasn’t there because she was with her boyfriend.

Frowning, I reassured her, “You don’t have to apologize for that.” I genuinely didn’t blame her. We hadn’t made any pact to never miss each other’s birthday, after all, and Lia was building a life beyond the cocoon of our childhood and friendship. She had every right to do so. “You know I don’t really like celebrating it, anyway. The guys came home, and we just,” I shrugged, “got drunk. You didn’t miss anything.”

She hummed in response, appearing dissatisfied with my answer. Grabbing a folded blanket from the pile on the sectional, she covered her legs, removing her UGG boots and casually kicking them away with her feet.

I wanted to ask her then about her drinking habits. I wasn’t spending that much time with her anymore and I didn’t know how she was doing; if it was getting worse or if she was trying to keep it down. She didn’t look like she was in the right mood to discuss that that day, and the movie started before I gathered the courage to start the conversation. I decided it was best to avoid it for the day and I let the topic slide away.

Midway through the movie, Lia got up to prepare some afternoon tea. When she returned, she nestled beside me, ensuring her arm and shoulder pressed against mine as she warmed her hands around the steaming mug.

Fifteen minutes before the movie’s end, her phone buzzed, and her expression dimmed upon seeing Mitch’s name and number on the screen of her iPhone.

“Can you pause it for a sec? I need to get this.”

“Sure,” I said.

She excused herself outside, sliding the balcony door almost closed. I took the chance to go to the kitchen and fetch a bag of chips. On my return back to the sofa, I inadvertently overheard Lia’s muffled conversation through the glass, a gentle breeze coming in from the cold temperature outside.

“Yeah, of course. No, I’m just out with some friends. Yeah, we might be late. I will call you when I’m in bed.”

I wasn’t sure if she called him or not that night, but what I did know what that she stayed the night with me. We set up the pullout sofa in the studio and I borrowed her one of my t-shirts. We cooked dinner together and had breakfast outside the next morning.

There was a comforting familiarity in falling back into the routine we once had when we lived together. Silly domestic activities, such as preparing a meal together, passing each other things in the kitchen, one washing, the other drying up, and then letting ourselves fall in the sofa and settling comfortable with our skin touching as if it were the most natural thing between best friends.

By the end of the movie we chose to watch at night, Lia’s head rested on my shoulder, and her hand lay peacefully on my knee under the blanket. A pang of desire surged within me as the credits started rolling and she looked up at me with sleeping eyes, batting her eyelashes. I couldn’t ignore how fucking gorgeous she was. When she rubbed her eyes, I saw my eight-year-old best friend, sitting cross-legged in my grandparent’s spare mattress in my childhood bedroom, the first time she stayed the night.

We exchanged a few comments about the two movies we had watched that day, Lia annoying me with her persistent admiration for Dev Patel’s features and the way his brown eyes sparkled in that one scene and some other bullshit. She laughed at my expression and kissed me goodnight before she called it a night.

I stayed in the living room, gazing at the empty hallway, absorbed in the memory of her sleepy walk towards the bathroom. I pondered why she had lied to Mitch, why she hadn’t told him that she was with me. I hoped that it wouldn’t lead to trouble. I cherished these moments with her and would give anything to enjoy them forever, but not at the cost of jeopardizing her well-being.

[the-devil-inside-of-you]

Character Sheet

Name: Uhm.. Lamentia?.. Why do you-

Next question.

Ah.. alrighty.

Nicknames: Lami, Tia, L, Lamb, Lamet, Moonlight, Starshine <- (Zailyn uses the last two.)

Titles: Voidkeeper, Darkbringer, Princess L

True name: [REDACTED BY L]

Age: 26!

Chronological age: Somewhere around 12.7 billion.

Text color: Purple!!

Species: Demon..! Former royal demon. Was cast out after an.. accident.

Job: An investigator!! I also help out at the house but I haven’t been there in a while, I should be there for Daisy’s birthday, though!

Birthday: The same as Daisy’s! December 20th, 1996!!

Pronouns: She/Her!!!

Sexuality: I’m bisexual!! I could be pansexual though..

Lamentia is questioning. Has been bisexual for the past thousands of years.

Love interest/partner: Um..!!! zailyn.. hehheh

Height: I’m 5’10!!

Interests: I like cats!! Like.. a lot!!! If I was an animal I’d probably be a black panther :D Umm.. I also like iced drinks!! Spicy food is wayyy too hot for me..

Favorite food: Hmm.. I think my favorite food has to be sushi!!

Favorite drink: Iced tea!! I drink it on the regular. energy drinks used to be my favorite..

Family: …

Mother was the queen, father was the king. She had a sist- god will you PLEASE shut up.

Romance: I have a girlfriend!!!

Disorders: Umm..?

Autism, minor depression, anxiety, selective mutism

Powers: Why would I-I tell you?

Void control, darkness solidification, umbraportation, umbrakinesis, matter digestion, acidic touch, moon manipulation, telekinesis, night vision, her tail. [WIP]

Weapon: Darkheart!!

————————————————————————

Voiceclaim(s):

Soul:

Cortinarius violaceus!! I’ve never had it taken but this is what it would lo-look like!

Playlist: WIP/i don’t know if i’m making one.

Moodboard: ^ Stimboard: ^ Fashionboard: ^ ————————————————————————

Relationships!

Biological Family: They.. probably don’t even think about me or would care..

Daisy: I view her as a younger sister/daughter in a way! Though I haven’t seen her in a while..

Radio: He’s a very polite and friendly man! I still don’t know what’s up with his metal mask..

Venus: Umm.. who is that?..

Ah. Apologies.

Cultivator: He’s.. not very nice. At least since the last time I saw him…

Camilla: …I don’t like her.

Grat: He’s a demon just like me!! I love his personality and he’s very kind :)

Asa: She’s one of my bestest friends!!! I met her at the house :)

————————————————————————

Brief backstory: WIP

Brief personality: WIP

[complexitiesofj]

2022

Um, YIKES. Haven’t written much for the year of 2022. Let’s just say it was pretty eventful. 

January 2022 - Didn’t do much! Just worked. 

February 2022 - Made Valentine’s Day cupcakes with my besties (: and then went to Lvl Up Expo for the first time! Super fun (:

March 2022 - Went to Michigan with my besties and then bought a dog! 

April 2022 - I had to give the baby to my friend ): I was so allergic it was ridiculous. 

May 2022 - Mom and I went to Alaska! My bestie graduated with her doctorate (:

June 2022 - Started getting this weird red ring around my mouth. Very irritated and flaky, but wasn’t going away. Stopped talking to a friend and my father around the same time.

July 2022 - Had my birthday! Mouth was still a bit irritated, multiple doctors visits.

August 2022 - Boat days, hanging out with old coworkers, and a trip to Georgia where my besties and I got matching tattoos (:

September 2022 - Nothing crazy, more boat days. 

October 2022 - Favorite time of the year: Renaissance fair! Mom’s birthday (:

November 2022 - First time going on a trip with my other besties (: Had a grand time. Watched JoKoy with my mom. ...Then my dad passed away. Reading these posts, you’d know dad and I didn’t have the best relationship. Hell, we hadn’t even talked since June. But he reached out before he left for the Philippines, and I managed to spend time with him before he left. ...I still feel guilty sometimes. The day depends on what part I feel guilty about. Not replying to his final text? Being irritated when he called or texted? Not talking to him for months? Feeling relieved? ...All of it? I still get those days, even now in July 2023. I miss you, dad, and I’m sorry.

December 2022 - Nothing much. Just grieving, sorting dad’s stuff, figuring out what to do next. Bestie’s birthday. Contract ended. 

[writingsofabadwriter]

A Memory.

My 20th birthday. I was actually excited for once. Finally, I was leaving my disastrous teenage years behind me. I had been moved out for 11 months, and all I wanted was sushi. I don't even remember what else was gifted to me that day. My stepdad, on the other hand, was in a bad mood. Overwhelmed possibly. Maybe he had a bad day at work, or he just didn’t like the sight of me anymore (I had been visiting for two weeks). Whatever it was, it wasn’t going to stay solely his problem. 

My birthday takes place at the very end of December, the 30th. Cold, cold winter. Christmas is right before my birthday, New years directly after it. But the 30th is my day. Again, I am actually excited. Plus, I’m not in school so I don’t feel bad about strangers forgetting it’s my birthday. 

The day before it, my dad had told me how unimportant it was. “We’ll do more for your 21st, your 20th isn’t a big deal.” It still stings, actually. But whatever, I don’t let him get to me.

 The day of, I don’t do much. I sleep in until 11am. I don’t eat breakfast. My dad is at work, so is my younger brother. My mom is also working, but she’s worked from home since I was maybe five years old. She wishes me a happy birthday with a big hug. I think my stepfather must have sent me a text, “Happy 20th.” All is well, but I feel it. Regret for staying at his house. Then, we’re driving up to the biggest small town near us to eat at the local sushi place.

 It’s special, my mom had to make reservations. My dad is going to meet us there, so I’m able to have a bit of peace on the drive up. When we get into town it’s busy. A Christmas tourist trap, and the holiday is still in full swing. I know my dad hates this time of year, so I try to brace myself for his bad mood. And oh what a bad mood he was in. 

It was immediate. Complaining about the people, about the restaurant. How he didn’t want to be there. After his complaints he goes in for a hug, it’s unwanted. I think to myself, “Why do you have to be here?” but say nothing, weakly smiling at my mother who is giving me a pitiful look. She also says nothing. I try to see what my brother is feeling, but his face remains stoic. 

We go into the restaurant, it’s small and cramped, but the smell of meat cooking fills the air. And again, I’m excited. “What are you going to get?” my mother whispers into my ear. “I’m not sure, I’ll have to look at the menu.” I whisper back giddily. Looking at my father I can see the discomfort on his face. Oh well, I think, his problem.

It’s so busy that even with the reservation we have to wait for a table. Which is okay, I haven’t minded waiting for a long time now. We stand awkwardly, moving out of the way of drunk patrons, rich assholes and tourists. I feel uncomfortable in my own skin, but I try to keep a smile on my face. My father does not. He’s complaining about something again, but I block it out. Me and my mom whisper to each other, ignoring him. Then he's complaining more. And more, and more. He asks if we even need to eat here, “Why is this so important? Why do we have to wait? This place is too busy, it sucks here. I hate this town. I hate the holiday season.” I hear it now.

I let it in, even though I tried so hard not to. Why is this so important, turns into, why are you so important? I smile at my mom again and tell her I’m going to use the bathroom. Hurry, hurry, hurry. Please don’t be occupied. Hurry up, get out of my way please. And then I’m there. Lucky for me, the bathroom is empty. When I open the door I see a single toilet, a sink, bamboo art decoration, and dark green walls poorly painted with vines. It’s not particularly dirty, just a tad run down and very small. Closing the door I realized how loud it was out there. At first the quiet brings a calming feeling, then my thoughts start to swarm. 

Something about the noise must have suppressed them, and the once welcoming quiet becomes overwhelming. Why doesn’t he just act like a father? It’s not a new thought, it’s something I’ve questioned my whole life. I disregard it and turn the thoughts inward. Why can’t I just ignore him? How could I let him get into my head? I didn’t even have to use the bathroom, I just thought I could escape him. But he’s ever more present there. He should just leave! Maybe telling him he can go home will make him feel better. No, then he’ll turn his anger towards me. I just have to ignore it, why can’t I just ignore it? In that ugly, cramped bathroom, I sit in a corner with my head in my hands.

Tears well up in my eyes. I’m so dramatic, I think to myself. Then it’s my fathers voice, Stop moping, you’re being ridiculous. My head is drumming with pain. I gasp for air, only then realizing I had been crying. Not even just crying, sobbing. I want to scream. My chest aches. It feels like it’s being stepped on. Like the air is being sucked out so forcefully my sternum could collapse. I bang my fist into the floor over and over again. Pain has always had a way of bringing me back. This time it barely works, but I’m able to stop myself from crying more. 

When I stand up, I go to look in the mirror. “God, what a fucking mess.” I mumble. It looks like I’ve run a mile, my face is blotchy and my nose is runny. I don’t remember crying so hard. I sit on the toilet seat with a dampened paper towel in my hand, tapping it on my cheekbones and forehead. Just breathe, shh just breathe.

After 5 minutes of that, I look into the mirror again. I don’t feel anything. I wipe away my smudged black eyeliner, fix my brows, smile and breathe some more. Presentable enough.

Leaving the bathroom I see my family still waiting. My father found a bench to sit on, but his face remains stern. Thankfully, he doesn’t say anything. I wonder if my mother said something to him while I was in the bathroom. Doubt it. 

We’re there for maybe five more minutes, then we are finally able to get a table. Whatever happened during dinner, I don’t particularly remember. Everyone is quiet. We eat. My mother and I keep a steady conversation about something. I giggle at my brother, and try not to look at my father. 

The second we pay the bill, my father gets up. He drove himself and my brother there, so he asks if my brother wants to ride back home with him. My brother declines. So then he’s off. We follow behind him, but take our time. When we get into my moms vehicle my dad was already gone. 

“Why does he have to be like that?” I ask openly. My mom responds, “Honey, he was just having a bad day. Don’t let it get to you.”  The response I get answers nothing. “But it’s my birthday, and he’s acting like a complete asshole.” “Do not say that. Leave it alone.” I look at my brother, he appears utterly detached from the situation. Fine, I think. “Can we get ice cream?” I try to say in a cheery tone. “I’m not sure. Maybe.”

 Then my mom’s phone rings. It’s my dad. When she answers he’s immediately yelling, “Some punk kid just ran in to my fucking car, Shannon. God dammit. I hate these fucking tourists, we shouldn’t have even come here. This is so fucking stupid.” My mom asks if he’s okay and if there is any damage to the car. “No, I’m fine, the car is fine. I just can’t stand this fucking place. I’m going home, see you there.” and hangs up. 

I laugh, and I laugh. I have a breakdown, and I laugh some more. Through breaths I manage to say, “he’s always talking about instant karma… look at him now. Oh my God, this is too good. Oh my god.” I’m still laughing, I genuinely can’t hold it back. I never thought I’d be so happy to hear my father got into a (small) accident. My mom seems angry at first, but when she looks at me I can tell she had similar thoughts. My brother almost looks worried. We drive down the road a bit, and then we see it. The little accident my dad got into. He’s still there, so he comes up to my moms car and complains some more. I snap a blurry photo of the ordeal. This is too good. 

The kid who hit my dad is panicking, but my dad just tells him to fuck off and that it doesn’t matter. Then gets into his car and drives home. But, police show up before we can get out of there. They make us go to a parking lot to sign papers,  and the kid awkwardly tries to apologize to my mother. The police tell us my dad shouldn’t have left, but they’re not going to do much about it because of the holidays. We always get stuck with my dad’s mess, I think to myself. I giggle a bit again, What a dramatic way to think. My mom tells them we aren’t going to press charges and that the kid can leave. Then we wish them happy holidays and new year, and leave. 

“So… Can we get some ice cream?” I ask. She thinks to herself for a bit, then responds, “Sure.” I look at my brother, give him a smile, and wonder about what type of ice cream I’m going to get. 

When we get home, we are in a much better mood. We had a time at the store, giggling and making jokes. I wanted Oreo ice cream. Not only for myself, but for my dad. I knew he’d like it, and maybe that’d put him into a better mood as well. At home my dad is sitting in the living room, playing some game on his phone. “We got ice cream!” I sing, looking at him for some form of gratitude. “Cool, I’m gonna smoke.” He responds, getting up and leaving for the garage. 

I roll my eyes. I’ve put the wall back up again, piece by piece. He’s not getting to me again tonight. I refuse to let it happen. While he’s in the garage my mother gets out bowls and spoons for us. We each get a big bowl of ice cream, as I’m eating I ask if we could watch a movie. “I don’t think so honey, it’s late and everyone is tired.” I sigh loudly, but say it’s okay. We all go and sit in the living room.

My brother finishes his bowl first, gives me a hug and tells me goodnight. “Goodnight, Joshua. I hope you sleep well. What a night.” “Yeah, I will. Happy Birthday.” He says back. He looks exhausted now, so I don’t tease him about going to bed so early. 

Looking at my mom I ask again if we could watch a movie. Actually, I beg, whining like a dog, “Pleeease…” She glances at me. I can see that she feels bad for what happened, so I use it as a reason to make her stay up with me. “Fine.” She finally says. We pick out a movie, and though I don’t remember what we watched, I felt loved that day. Finally. 

[feralgremlinchild]

Tw death, medical, child custody

(also I can’t remember how to do a read more so heads up it’s a long post)

I’ve been gone a while, I kept meaning to return but everything in life just kept getting worse. Taking care of my mother became more of a challenge, and the past 6 months she was in hospitals and skilled nursing homes. We had some good times together, I took her to see the eras tour in theater because she absolutely loved Taylor swift.

My mother died a week and a half ago, thankfully she was aware of what was happening and she was ready for it. She had unfortunately already been legally dead and revived and intubated before she had a chance to sign a dnr. She hated being intubated, but I tried to help as best I could to make communication possible for her the seven days she was intubated. I made her a talking board.

I tried my best to treat her with dignity and make sure she had the little comforts the past few months. I drew signs for her hospital wall, I brought her her favorite stuffed animal, I clipped and filed her nails, I brought my (retired) service dog to see her because she adored him and he always made her feel better. Helped order her food. Found solutions to little problems like an elastic band for her watch instead of a buckle. Assistive devices and technology. It never felt like a chore, it wasn’t a decision I had to make, I just did things.

She had finally decided a couple months ago that she was not going to take more of her dilaudid than prescribed. And she was actually sticking to that. I had been waiting for that my entire life and I was so so proud of her. She was trying very hard. She wanted to see my niece again, she wanted to be around a while longer. Up until the beginning of March, the doctors told us they weren’t sure how much time she had left, but it could be months or even a year, it depended on her recovery. Her body’s ability to recover. In the end though it was just too tired, she’d been sick her entire life and she couldn’t recover from this last infection.

My niece’s dad allowed her to visit the hospital a couple days before my mother passed. I didn’t get to see the kid because I wasn’t at the hospital, I had already gone home. The kid had been given a phone for her birthday a few days earlier, and has been allowed to contact us so far. I haven’t seen her in person since December, but I’ll see her on Friday at the service. We’ve been texting though, mostly about games we both play and inside jokes.

I had to buy a black dress because my old one ripped. I have lost a lot of weight recently anyways, it probably wouldn’t have fit. It turns out stress and grieving can take the pounds off you even when an eating disorder couldn’t. It’s not exactly happy weight loss. I haven’t been celebrating it. But the weight did need to come off, so maybe at least my joints will be a little happier.

Now I have to find a job at some point in the next couple of months. The insurance money won’t last forever, and I had always planned on getting a job after my mother passed. She had been my full time job for years. I’m going to get a job, help my dad sell the house, and then move out of Texas. If all goes well I will be in New England this time next year. It’s a big move but I need to get as far away as possible, I’ve been dreaming of this for years and years and it’s finally time to start making steps towards it.

Also both of my big dogs have large tumors and I have no money for removal or treatment.

Also also my cousin’s wedding is in less than two weeks and it’s a 5 hour drive minimum and I did get a dress and it’s good but I do not feel like celebrating anything right now. The guy is nice tho, very kind and has what the church people call a heart of service. They’re cute together. And my cousin is great and I love her and I grew up with her almost like a sister, even going to the same schools. But I’m just not in a happy wedding mood. I’m going anyway of course.

[hanistylum]

Life update.

July 8, 2023 I ended the relationship mentioned back in March 2022.

December 10, 2022 he proposed and after that his actions stopped matching his words.

What ended the relationship, the final straw, was being blamed for allowing a man come between us. To give some context he was living at home with his mom, grandma, and aunt. In April 2023 the aunt tells everyone that her boyfriend of a month is moving in. I warned that there would be consequences to that man moving in. I said I would no longer be spending the night while he was under the same roof. The man gave me an ick and there was seriously something wrong with him that I couldn’t place and it bothered me. My warnings went on deaf ears.

We were to move in with each other in to our own place and then that changed 2 weeks before move in day. His mom said “you can’t move I need you here to help financially” with that he chose his mom over me his fiancé. I didn’t make that decision he made easy for him.

Things started not going so well for us after that. I stopped wearing my ring unless I was on FaceTime with him or was with him in person there were many times I kept my left hand out of frame so he wouldn’t see I wasn’t deleting it.

Come June 30 I had a horrible day at work and had no interest to talk to anyone not even my parents. I came home and decided to wash my car in silence and away from people and communication. I got in the pool when I was done and when I got out I saw he called me. I call him back and this was the dialog:

Him: why didn’t you answer your phone, mom is in the hosital

Me: when did you find that out (he had a tendency to tell me news hours/days after the fact)

Him: I just found out right as I got home

Me: is she okay?

Him: I don’t know. Why didn’t you answer your phone?

Me: I had a shit day at work and had zero desire to talk to anyone even mom and dad.

Him: you should’ve sent me a text about it. You know you haven’t touched me in weeks

Me: sorry i haven’t been in the mood

Him: you’re letting a simple man come between us. He’s a nobody and because he lives here you’re punishing me

Me: I’m letting a simple man come between us! Are you serious right now! I told you I wasn’t going to stay over anymore if he moved in.

Him: we’ll talk about this tomorrow because we’re both going to say things we don’t mean

I hung up so fast after that. The next morning I had a project I needed to focus on and I told him I was doing that and he responded with “you’re more concerned about a project than working on us. I’m disappointed I wasn’t your first thought this morning”. I didn’t respond to that. Later that day I call him to talk and he refused my call 4 times. He sends me a text saying he was too upset to talk and will need a few days to figure out what he wants to do. I didn’t hear from him for 7 days.

On July 3 I knew I wouldn’t hear from him as it was the 2 year anniversary of his grandpas passing. In July 4 I knew I wouldn’t hear from him as it was that grandpas birthday. So that’s 2 days I knew I would hear from him. But to not hear from him for 7 days I was not going to wait any longer and made the decision based on his behavior to end the relationship. I wanted to speak to him in person about it and be civil about it but his mentality was if he ignored it then the problem would go away. Fine, he ignored it long enough that I did something about it.

On July 8, 2023 I sent him back all of his belongings and repurchased and replaced anything I left at his house. I had my parents stone removed from the custom ring as he only paid $150 towards the $2,300 stone and sent him the band that he laid in full for and returned the $150 in cash he paid towards the stone. I wrote a 3 page letter explaining why I made my decision. And that ended my engagement.

Since July 8, 2023 dating has been quite difficult. I’ve had a few dates. A guy who was not financially stable who wouldn’t even let me buy the dinner and only ate the free chips and drank the free water. Went on a date with a history teacher with absolutely zero personality. Went on a date with a guy twice and he was emotionally unstable who then blows up my phone and yells at me on the phone. Even got stood up by a hook up. Had a few guys reschedule/cancel.

[alsjeblieft-zeg]

225 of 2023

Do you lick your lips?

I rather bite on them.

Last reason you smiled?

My cats.

Who was the first person to text you this morning?

My dad.

If someone is doing something that pisses you off, do you tell them?

If I lose my patience. I’m too soft-spoken for my own good.

Does your phone have to be charged every day?

It does. That’s the thing with smartphones.

When’s the last time you were surprised?

Yesterday. I got tulips from my husband.

When was the last time you hugged someone?

Today.

How much money have you spent today?

100€ on trousers lol. Online order.

How do you feel about your hair right now?

It probably needs to be washed.

What was the first thing you did this morning?

Woke up lol.

Do you feel awkward when strangers say hi to you?

I do, but usually I say it back. It’s normal in my country.

If you died today would your life be complete?

No, definitely not.

Did you wake up in the middle of the night last night?

Yeah. Technically my husband woke me up because I fell asleep and left the TV on.

Have you had your birthday yet this year?

No, I haven’t.

Are you ticklish?

Very much so.

Are you a jealous person?

No, I’m not.

Do you like ice cream?

I do, kind of. Just had some.

How many pillows do you sleep with?

Three. No wonder why I have back aches.

Has anything happened to you in the past month that made you really upset?

Not last moth, but last December. I had a nervous breakdown for real.

Would you ever get your nipples pierced?

No, I find it pointless.

Current music playing?

None.

Who was the last person to piss you off?

Our most disliked coworker. Always walking around and doing nothing.

Is it usually easy for someone to make you smile?

Depends on who it is.

Ever cried on the phone with somebody?

No, I don’t even cry.

Does anyone think you are a bitch?

I don’t know, ask them.

Are your toe nails painted pink?

I don’t paint my nails.

If you could change your eye color would you?

Yeah, I’d love emerald green eyes.

Do you like to have long hair or short hair?

Short. Low maintenance.

Have you ever met someone who is amazing?

Yeah, plenty of people, including my husband and my sister.

Whose hoodie did you wear last?

Mine. I’m a hoodie guy in general.

How are you feeling at this exact moment in time?

Tired, but content.

What is on your agenda for tomorrow?

An unexpected appointment with VDAB, my country’s unemployment service. This is mandatory, but I dont see the point since I’ve been having a job for the last 9 years and I have a permanent contract with my company.

Will you be in bed within twenty minutes?

It’s midday.

Who were you with at 4 am this morning?

My husband, but we were both sleeping.

Are you angry with anyone?

No, I’m not. Unless that VDAB counts.

Who was the last person to call you?

My husband, he locked himself out because he forgot the key and I had to open the door for him.

Do you have any bruises?

A lot. I get bruised easily, but most of the time I don’t even remember how.

Have you had sex in the last 12 hours?

No, but I kinda had fun with myself from the morning.

Do you believe exes can really ever be “just friends”?

Yeah. I’m friends with my ex and we’re still close, it’s not the same anymore.

Are you wearing something that belongs to someone else?

No, I’m not.

Did you have a good day today?

The day is not over yet. Ask me in a few hours.

Is there a girl that knows everything about you?

Yeah, my sister.

Do you have feelings for someone?

Yeah. My husband and M.

Do you look at the keyboard when you type?

Sometimes, to avoid typos. Not like it always works XD

What’s running through your mind right now?

That song my sister once covered.

Does it bother you when people respond to you with one word answers?

No. I also elaborate only when I feel like doing it.

Where is your cell phone?

Next to me.

Will you be up before 7 am tomorrow?

Probably. I need to be up for that appointment.

Ever had a girl best friend?

Does my sister count?

Does anyone hate you?

I don’t know, ask them.

Are you in a relationship?

I’m married.

Have you ever done something sexual that you regret?

Nah. As much as I don’t feel like performing sexual activities with other, I feel I’ve been doing it with the right people.

Do you like to sit in the sun, and tan when it’s hot out?

I don’t like to tan, but I love summer and I love being out when it’s warm, and I love the beach and the sea.

Do you worry too much?

Way too much.

Ever had a teacher that you wanted to punch in the face?

Nah. I never bothered.

Have you ever been so drunk you puked?

No. I was drunk, but never threw up because of it.

What is your least favorite class period?

Pretty sure our education system doesn’t work like that.

Do you ever wonder what it’d be like to be the opposite sex?

Sometimes, but not for serious.

If you could eat anything right now, what would it be?

Not hungry, thanks.

What sport do you like better: volleyball or football?

Neither, basketball 4 lyfe.

Ever had a person who was obsessed with you so much that it scared you?

Yeah, twice. It was awful.

Ever been close to dying?

Yeah, when I had that brain bleeding. According to the doctors, it was massive.

Can you drive, and if you can, do you like it?

I’m not allowed because epilepsy. Lol yeah.

Do you know anyone named Josh or Patrick?

I know a couple of guys named Patrick. One of them is my teammate at work and also a local politician.

Have you ever said anything to the last person you kissed that you regret?

Yeah, but long ago. He already forgot and moved on.

How many people with the name Taylor do you know?

In person? Zero.

Do you like french fries?

I do, but there’s no such thing as “French fries”. Every Belgian will confirm.

Have you ever ate so much you puked?

No, never. I barely remember to eat at all.

Is your best friend the same sex as you?

Most of them are.

Do you care about what others think of your physical appearance?

No. I wear whatever I want and wherever I want, and I haven’t chosen my face anyway. If you don’t like it, then don’t look at me. It’s simple. We cannot please everyone anyway.

Do you tell people you love them just to get what you want?

No. I don’t overuse such big words. If I say I love someone, thne that’s because I mean it.

Do you wear makeup?

No, I don’t.

Would you rather run or walk?

Walk. I cannot run.

Are you close with your father?

I am, more than with my mother.

Ever been to Mexico?

No, it’s too far from me.

Do you like to ride your bike, if you have one?

I have three and I’ve always loved riding bikes, but it’s something normal in my country.

[faeryworlds]

percentstardust​:

Plus, her job where she gets more hours and more pay will let her work overtime if she wants to, so, really quitting her second job won’t be too much of a loss. She is glad Tara understands. A lawyer and a mechanic. What a sibling pair they make. “But, I want to—-” She stops herself from saying she’s going to do it anyways. “Fine. I understand that I don’t have to.” The difference between her and their father is that she came back. She planned on coming back once her shit was together. In fact, she came back twice, but, was chased away by their mother one time and Amber the other. She has stayed by Tara’s side. She guesses that is enough.

“Yeah, we’re the Core Four as Chad calls us.” She smiles laughing at the nickname Chad has given their group. She actually finds it endearing. “Kirby did say to call her if we ever need anything. I’ve actually been talking to her and catching up with her. It’s nice to have someone else to talk to. You know I don’t have other friends.” She exchanged numbers with the blonde. They have been chatting on the phone, texting, and they even have a video call every now and then. Her eyebrow raises at her sister’s grin. “So, can Danny move in too? Or is that me moving too fast in our relationship? I can never tell anymore. You know my dating track record.” She jokes. Her dating track record is horrible even without Richie being considered her shittiest ex. “Gale also said to go to her if we need anything which I am going to take her up on. She’s made up for her book.” The PR nightmare she thought she would have to deal with after they defeated Bailey and his kids hasn’t been as bad with Gale’s help.

“Oh?” She smiles again. “Well, I’m bisexual too.” She went so long without labelling herself because she did not know what her sexuality was. She liked men and women, but, she did know what to label herself as. “I’m glad you told me. I have something else to tell you. I am nonbinary. I want to use the they pronouns. Like Mindy does sometimes.”

Tara wasn’t even aware that Sam had tried to come back twice and both times she was chased away. She still doesn’t know and she would be even more mad at their mother if Sam would actually tell her. “Sam, you came back. The moment Wes called you and told you I was attacked you came back. Mom was stuck in London and didn’t came back. Dad well, haven’t heard from him since he walked out on us when I was eight.” Listening to her sister when she was talking about Danny and asking if he can move in too. They have the space right, if Chad is sharing her room, Danny and Sam sharing a room and then Mindy having her own room. It would fit and make sense. Besides her sister deserves to be happy. “You have been dating Danny longer than me and Chad. If you want him to move in with us, he can. He proved himself that we can trust him.” She knows her own birthday is coming up, it’s November and her birthday is in December and yes normally when you turn 21 it’s a big deal. Yet she wasn’t really feeling her birthday. Then again she also doesn’t even know if the others planned something. 

Hearing how Sam had been talking to Kirby which made sense they do know Kirby and knows how it is with the Woodsboro murders. And yes Sam deserves to have friends around her age. Since they do live in New York it’s easier to go to Gale whenever they needed something, that would make sense. Once hearing what her sister said about her being bisexual too and then saying she’s non binary like Mindy. “Wait, sometimes? What does that mean that you’re also still okay with the she/her pronouns?” She asked just so she was aware and wouldn’t make a mistake with her sister’s right pronouns. “Now we are confessing things. I have something else to tell you. Amber and I dated, around the time last year Amber and I were dating we had been dating for some years.”

This was the first time she told anyone, Chad and Mindy knew about it because well, they were part of the same friend group. Not so sure what Sam would say to that, cause Sam killed her then boyfriend at the time Richie and Tara killed her girlfriend. 

Plus, her job where she gets more hours and more pay will let her work overtime if she wants to, so, really quitting her second job won't be too much of a loss. She is glad Tara understands. A lawyer and a mechanic. What a sibling pair they make. "But, I want to----" She stops herself from saying she's going to do it anyways. "Fine. I understand that I don't have to." The difference between her and their father is that she came back. She planned on coming back once her shit was together. In fact, she came back twice, but, was chased away by their mother one time and Amber the other. She has stayed by Tara's side. She guesses that is enough.

"Yeah, we're the Core Four as Chad calls us." She smiles laughing at the nickname Chad has given their group. She actually finds it endearing. "Kirby did say to call her if we ever need anything. I've actually been talking to her and catching up with her. It's nice to have someone else to talk to. You know I don't have other friends." She exchanged numbers with the blonde. They have been chatting on the phone, texting, and they even have a video call every now and then. Her eyebrow raises at her sister's grin. "So, can Danny move in too? Or is that me moving too fast in our relationship? I can never tell anymore. You know my dating track record." She jokes. Her dating track record is horrible even without Richie being considered her shittiest ex. "Gale also said to go to her if we need anything which I am going to take her up on. She's made up for her book." The PR nightmare she thought she would have to deal with after they defeated Bailey and his kids hasn't been as bad with Gale's help.

"Oh?" She smiles again. "Well, I'm bisexual too." She went so long without labelling herself because she did not know what her sexuality was. She liked men and women, but, she did know what to label herself as. "I'm glad you told me. I have something else to tell you. I am nonbinary. I want to use the they pronouns. Like Mindy does sometimes."

[ducklooney]

Happy late birthday(s) Panchito Pistoles and Aracuan Bird!

First off, Merry Christmas to everyone!

Even though I'm late, I'll definitely post a special post as well as some backlog posts related to anniversaries by the end of the year, so I'll do that with one of my favorite characters first. The rest is copied text from my last year's post.

Panchito Pistoles or real name Panchito Romero Miguel Francisco Quintero Gonzalez III first appeared in the movie "The Three Caballeros" on December 21, 1944 and since then he became a main part of the Three Caballeros. Unlike Donald and Jose Carioca, Panchito doesn't appear too much, but he was present in several cartoons and in a few comic books. And Panchito doesn't have a big family and crew behind him except for his horse Señor Martinez, his twin Shirochito and of course his best friends Donald and Jose. Yes there is a song Panchito sings about his family, but only his family members appeared once. Certainly Panchito is a very exciting and funny character and loves to joke around. And he often likes to shoot a revolver.

On the same date, the Aracuan Bird, a silly bird of the Amazon, also appears.

On this day, in 1944, the movie “The Three Caballeros” was shown, which was a sequel to the movie “Saludos Amigos” from 1942, and it was a mixture of live-action and animated movie and contains several sequences. I definitely recommend you watch both movies, which you haven’t yet!

Certainly in these sequences, as in the Saludos Amigos movie, the beautiful countries of Latin America are shown, as well as the people and customs themselves. New characters such as Pablo the Penguin, Buritto the Flying Donkey, Horse Senor Martinez and others have also appeared in these films. But that day, two characters appeared who will be part of Donald’s world, and they are Panchito Pistoles and Aracuan Bird. With Panchito, Donald and Jose will become legendary trio singers, called the Three Caballeros. After that film, they will appear in several cartoons, comics, toys and other shows.

And now pictures of Panchito, Aracuan Bird and their friends from 1944 until today.

Definitely happy 78th anniversary, Three Caballeros! And happy 78th birthday, Panchito Pistoles! And happy birthday to you, Aracuan Bird! And that they are some of the best Disney characters ever.

If you love Three Caballeros or their characters or their friends, family and their rivals, from the beginning until today, feel free to like this and reblog this!

[bqstqnbruin]

Always be my plus one

Here we go, y'all. We're ignoring that it's 3:30 in the morning but I'm just yeeting the first part of this into the wild and hoping it goes well. Ignore typos, we all know that everything I post is a first draft.

I need to thank @hockeywocs, @chara-hugs, and @zinka8 (WHY CAN't I TAG YOU) and all the anons who have come into my ask box to help me with this! ily all!

WARNING: some description of child birth

Hope you like it!

Series masterlist

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

Part 1: Christmas Day and the day after Christmas

The name for Christmas comes from the shortening of “Christ’s Mass,” a traditionally Christian holiday that celebrates the birth of Jesus Christ to the Virgin Mary and Joseph in a manger in Bethlehem. Although the exact date of his birthday is unknown, around the fourth century the Catholic church fixed the date of this celebration to be December 25th. Other religions and belief systems have similar celebrations around the same time, such as the Winter Solstice, or Midwinter. Celebrations include a mixture of pre-Christian, Christian, and non-secular traditions, such as gift giving, completing an Advent Calendar or Advent Wreath, Christmas music, church services, a special meal with family and loved ones, Christmas trees, lights, nativity scenes, and Santa Claus to name a few.

The day after Christmas, known as Boxing Day in some European countries, is traditionally known as a shopping holiday. In America, this is typically the day when people start to return any unwanted Christmas gifts, stock up for next Christmas on items that are marked down on sale, or see friends that they hadn’t been able to see before Christmas.

=============

December 21, 2021

“One fifteen means fifteen minutes before I have to clock in. Fifteen minutes before a twelve-hour shift that I’m not ready for and don’t have enough caffeine for,” Anne muttered to herself, staring at her reflection through her car's rearview mirror. “But, fifteen minutes before getting to do something that I thankfully love, something that I enjoy doing.” No matter how long the shift in front of her, Anne had developed a habit of giving herself a pep talk before she got out of her car. “Whatever happens, you’ve helped someone.”

The last part wasn’t always true, knowing that there was the possibility that something could go wrong that she and the other nurses and doctors wouldn’t be able to fix. Lying to herself that everything was going to be ok was the only want to convince herself to go into the hospital every day. Finally mustering up enough courage to get out of her car, she grabs her bag from the backseat, heading in for yet another long day right before the Christmas holiday.

The maternity ward where Anne worked never ceased to be hectic, the miracle of life happening at least once an hour. No matter how much Anne had studied in nursing school, nothing could have prepared her for the stress that could come from the job, the long hours, the potential for something so right to turn so wrong in a minute, the way nothing can go planned since the baby dictated all, the mess that comes with every birth, or the joy that results from a former patient sending her the occasional picture of a baby she helped deliver as they’re growing up.

“Hey, Tyson, come on!” comes from inside the open doors of the building, Anne not paying attention to who it was coming from, causing her to collide with a stranger, spilling her much-needed coffee all over the both of them.

“Shit,” she says, not looking up from the brown splatter on what should be mint green scrubs. “I am so sorry.”

Standing in front of her was a curly-haired boy, about her age, wearing what she was sure was a Colorado hockey jersey. Beyond that, she had no idea. “No, no, it’s my fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going. Let me buy you another,” he offers, ignoring the persistent calls from his friends to hurry up.

Anne checks her watch: 1:19. “It’s ok. I don’t really have the time, I have to clock in in eleven minutes, and knowing the cafeteria or the vending machines, it would take a lot longer,” she says, trying to get by him. Before he can protest, she gets to the elevator that would bring her to her floor, thankful that it was ready to get her there without her having to wait. The doors start to close, only to be stopped by a hand stuck through them, the curly-haired boy with the coffee stain down the front of him getting on the elevator with her. Anne gives him a confused look, begging him to explain why he was trying to make her late for her shift.

“If you aren’t going to let me buy you one now to make up for it, at least let me see where you work so I can drop one off for you.”

Anne rolls her eyes, unamused by the man in front of her as he attempts to flirt with her. “That would be nice, but the chances of me getting it before it goes cold are slim to none, so you need to suggest something else if you really want to buy me a coffee.”

“Let me get your number so I can buy you one when you aren’t working?” he asks, reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone. 1:25. “I’m Tyson, by the way.”

The elevator dings, signaling that they were on Anne’s floor, opening the door to nurses and doctors running around, expectant fathers who were probably kicked out of the delivery room for making the mom too nervous pacing the halls, grandparents trying to control younger children who had little to no idea what was going on as they waited in the strange building. Anne walks to the backroom to drop her stuff off and clock in, typing her information into the stranger’s phone as he followed her like a puppy, his friend’s texts coming across the top of his screen asking where he went so they could leave.

“I’m Anne, and I’ve got to go,” she tells him, handing back his phone. There was no way he was going to text her, and it’s not like the coffee was that big of a deal to him. She could go to the vending machine down the hall and grab one during her break, or have someone else on their break do it for her if she needed it sooner.

“Can’t wait for our coffee date, Anne,” he says, winking at her before shoving his hands in his pockets and sauntering back down the hallway.

“Who is he?” her coworker, Jess asked, popping up out of nowhere. “He’s hot.”

“In more ways than one, apparently,” Anne jokes, “he’s also wearing my hot coffee on his shirt.”

“You didn’t,” Jess scolds her, turning her around to see the coffee that was spilled down Anne’s own outfit, knowing Anne’s tendency to be a little absent-minded as she gets wrapped up in her own thoughts. “Anne, you did.”

“Not on purpose!”

“DeFormicola?” Anne’s supervisor, Jackson, pops his head into the room just as she was clocking in, “We need you in room 414.”

“Saved by the bell,” Anne teases, walking down the hall to where all the noise was coming from, trying to throw on the appropriate clothing before she went into the room, struggling to get the gloves on as she entered.

“Ok, Erin, we’re going to need you to push,” one of the doctors says, Anne standing behind him as she watched the baby’s head crowning.

This was her favorite part of the job, helping the mother stay calm and trying to make sure that despite the child coming out of her, she was as comfortable as possible. Normally, she would be with the mom as soon as she came in, Erin clearly nervous as to what was going on. They had to be first-time parents, the dad going back and forth to Erin’s side and behind the doctor, looking mortified each time and clearly regretting what he was seeing.

“It’s a boy!” the doctor says, handing the new baby to a breathless Erin.

“A boy! A boy!” the dad yells, going out to the hallway, Erin clearly unamused by whatever antics he was going about.

“Don’t worry, he’s not the first one to do that,” Anne reassures her, knowing that something like that would happen at least five more times during her shift, hearing the father’s voice repeating the phrase. “I’m going to get him cleaned up and then get him right back to you, ok?” Anne asks, reaching for the baby as everyone else around her tries to clean everything else up.

“Be careful with him,” Erin warns, not meaning anything bad by it. She was definitely a first time mother.

“I will be,” Anne tells her, feeling her phone vibrate in her pocket as she does. “So you have a name picked out yet?”

“We were thinking Matthew.”

Anne turns her head, smiling at Erin. “That’s a good name. My older brother is named Matthew.”

Erin smiles at her, the father finally coming back in, clearly overjoyed by the birth of their new baby. Anne hands him back to his parents, Matthew screaming his head off as they get wheeled into another room.

Anne goes over to the desk, sitting down where she was supposed to be for the start of her shift to do paperwork, but the uncertainty in the hour by hour of the schedule was not surprising. She pulls out her phone, ‘Maybe: Tyson’ coming up across her screen.

“He’s already texting me,” she alerts Jess whose head whips away from her computer to look over Anne’s shoulder at what message the mystery man could have sent her.

“He’s horny.”

“Jessica!” she squeals, wishing she was more shocked by what her friend had said. “Why is that always your first reaction to a boy sending a message?”

She shrugs, swiveling back to her own computer, “I’m normally right. What’s he saying?”

“He wants to know when he can buy me coffee.”

“Horny.”

“Enough.”

“You should date him.”

Anne turns to her, clearly unamused by Jess’s need to continue the conversation. “I don’t have to date anyone.”

Jess lets out a long sigh, Anne knowing that she was rolling her eyes. “I’m not saying you have to, I’m saying you should.”

“Ok, I don’t want to date anyone.”

“Oh, come on Anne,” Jess says, getting up and plopping herself on the desk in front of Anne, fiddling with the wire connecting the mouse to the rest of the computer. “You work in a maternity ward where people become parents every day, and you haven’t even thought of finding a man?”

“You don’t have a point,” Anne tells her, not making eye contact with her.

“My point,” Jess says, leaning over to block Anne’s view of her computer screen, “is that you can’t be single forever.”

“Says who?”

“Didn’t you tell me that you were named after the patron saint of the town your grandmothers were from?”

Anne rolls her eyes, knowing where this was going. It was going in the same direction that this conversation always went in when she had it with her mom every single holiday. “All four of us are named after the patron saints of the towns our grandparents are from.”

“St. Anne is the patron saint of child care, grandparents and mothers.”

“She’s also that patron saint of unmarried women, so your argument is invalid, as usual.”

Jess takes in a breath to say something, cut off by Jackson calling for Jess to go into one of the delivery rooms. “Just don’t say no because you think you have to be single,” she advises as she walks away.

Anne leans back in the chair, rubbing her hands over her face. “This is how Christmas is going to go, isn’t it?” she asks herself.

=============

December 25, 2021

The number of cars lining her parent's driveway meant that she was one of the last ones there, but knowing her aunts and uncles, she wasn’t the last one there. Her parents were the ones who did Christmas Day for her dad’s family, Christmas Eve being the anniversary of her mom’s mom’s death, and, on top of that, Teresa doesn’t talk to her family over some argument and grudge being held over their parent's house.

Scanning the cars, she didn’t see the one belonging to her brother Matthew, or his wife, Stephanie. “I’ll just leave Harper’s gifts in the car,” Anne mutters to herself, trying to juggle as many gifts as she could while also balancing the box of pastries her mom asked her to pick up for dessert.

Without a free hand to open the door, Anne did everything she could to ring the doorbell with her elbow, praying that someone would come to open the door before she dropped anything.

Her younger brother, Sebastian, opens the door, a disappointed look on his face. “What the fuck is all this for?” he asks, taking some of the bags from her arms to lighten her load.

“Merry Christmas to you, too,” she remarks, “Yours is still in my car if you’re wondering.”

“Did you have to get gifts for everyone?” he asks, Anne greeting her aunts and uncles on the way to the tree to put everything down for later.

“Well, it’s Hazel’s first Christmas," she explains, referencing their sister's youngest daughter, "So getting her something and not getting the other children something seemed wrong, and then Jessica took me shopping and kept saying things like ‘oh this would be perfect for Lucy,’ or ‘oh don’t have you an aunt who likes mystery novels?’ And everything went downhill from there.”

Sebby groans, walking with Anne back out to her car to retrieve the rest of the gifts, Anne still holding the box of pastries since they hadn’t made it to the kitchen yet. “Please tell me you didn’t get Aunt Lisa that Agatha Christie illustrated novel that the bookstore was selling.”

“Please tell me you didn’t get Aunt Lisa that Agatha Christie illustrated novel the bookstore was selling,” Anne laughs, Sebby nodding his head. “I got a gift receipt.”

“What did you end up getting Matthew?” he asks her. Anne had texted Sebby in panic on Black Friday, coming home from a day of shopping with Lucy that left her without a gift for Lucy’s twin brother.

Grabbing the rest of the gifts and handing them to Sebby, she closes the door to her car and starts to go back inside. “I found this ‘make your own wine’ kit that I think he would like. That way Steph doesn’t have to listen to him complaining about how the stuff she drinks is ‘too sweet.’”

“What about for me?” Sebby asks, nudging Anne with his elbow as they arrange the rest of the gifts in the already mountainous pile under the tree.

“Oh, I knew there was someone I forgot,” she says sarcastically, Sebby ripping the bow off one of her carefully wrapped presents and throwing it at her. “Ok, now I’m never getting you a gift again.”

Sebby laughs, helping his older sister off the ground. The two of them wander into the kitchen, slipping in unnoticed due to the sheer number of family members and noise that was filling the room. “Aunt Anne! Aunt Anne!” Harper and Skylar squeal in unison when her nieces spot her, hoping that either she or Sebby had grabbed Harper, Matthew, and Stephanie’s gifts. She didn’t think there was anything left in her trunk.

“Hey there, fireflies,” Anne greets them, bending down as they both kiss her on the cheek. “Guess what? Santa stopped by my place and left some gifts for you, but he made me promise that you two were really good today if you want to open them after dessert, ok?”

The two girls nod excitedly, bouncing up and down at Anne’s words. To still be young and believe in Santa, that must be nice.

“Hey, ma,” Anne finally finds her mother, putting down the box of pastries in front of her and kissing her on the cheek. “Upstairs or downstairs fridge?”

“It goes downstairs. Come on, I have someone I want you to meet,” her mother says, dragging you away from your aunts that had aggregated around her. They all had excited looks on their faces, something that instantly worried Anne as she followed her mother down the stairs with the box. She could hear Matthew and Lucy’s voices, knowing that her brother and sister’s wife and husband had to be down there with them, too. “Matthew told me about this friend of his who couldn’t make it home for Christmas,” her mother whispers before she got to the last step.

“Mom, no,” Anne says, already knowing where this was heading. “I told you: I don’t need a boyfriend.”

“But I don’t have a grandson,” her mom whines, shaking Anne’s hand in her own against her chest.

“How is that my fault?”

“If you just find a nice boy, and get married, I just know you’re going to be my child that has a boy.”

“Oh my god,” Anne groans, pushing past her to get to the fridge.

Teresa pulls Anne over to the couches where her siblings were, Lucy sitting on one with her feet in Jason’s lap, Jason’s hand lazily rubbing his wife’s shins. Matthew was on the other, Stephanie nuzzled against his shoulder, all four of them with a glass of wine and three bottles open. Next to Matthew was a guy sitting there awkwardly, straightening his back when he saw you while Sebby tried to contain his laughter as he sat on the floor. “Jeremy, this is my youngest daughter, Anne. Anne, this is Jeremy,” she introduces the two of them before running up the stairs.

“I do have a girlfriend, actually,” Jeremy says, “So I’m sorry.”

Anne and her siblings burst out laughing, Lucy pouring her sister a glass of wine. “If only this were the first time Ma tried to set Anne up with a guy who was seeing someone.”

“I even tried to tell her that but she didn’t listen,” Matthew adds. “It’s better than when she tried to set you up with Adam,” he says, referencing Lucy’s partner at their optometry practice.

“Yeah, his husband wasn’t too thrilled by that potential match,” Sebby says.

They all keep talking, Anne just sitting and listening to them reminisce about all the people their parents had tried to set her up within their desperate attempt for her to no longer be single. It didn’t help that the last time she listened to them about dating was Andy, the boy who cheated on her when they got to college. Apparently going to school half an hour from each other wasn’t enough for him to keep up their two-year relationship instead of shoving his tongue down multiple girls throats before doing god only knows what else.

“When do you think they’ll stop trying to set me up with someone?” Anne finally pips in, accidentally cutting off something Jeremy was saying as she stared at the wine she was swirling in the glass.

“When you get a boyfriend,” her siblings say in unison.

“I hate all of you for doing that,” she laughs. “But, seriously, why is it so important that I have a boyfriend?”

“Oh, you know your mother,” Jason says, putting his glass down on the floor. “She saw what Lucy and I had and then wanted that for all her children.”

Lucy playfully shoves him, kissing him as Anne and Sebby groan. “She just wants you to be happy, and to her and dad, happiness is marriage and a family.”

“Where am I going to meet someone if I go to work or here where they try to bring in non-single non-potential suitors?” she asks, looking over at Jeremy. “Sorry.”

He shrugs, not able to get a word in before Matthew starts, “What if you met someone at work like how Steph and I met?”

“Yeah because there are so many single men walking around the maternity ward,” she says, her phone buzzing in front of her. “What about you, though, Seb, how’s Collins?” Anne asks, changing the subject.

“Eh,” he shrugs, his eyes wandering to Anne’s phone screen, “I’m not sure we’re going to last to graduation.”

“What?” Lucy squeals, causing Jason to jump as she threw her legs out of his lap. “I thought you said she was ‘the one’?”

Sebby looks down at his glass, a stupid smirk on his face. “Nah, that changed. She doesn’t want me to go to law school in Boston, she wants me to stay here or move to California with her.”

“But the adventure of moving with your girlfriend to another state!” Matthew offers, Stephanie rolling her eyes.

“Matthew, not everyone needs adventure like you do, hon.”

Anne’s phone buzzes again, a reminder that she had a text waiting for her. Picking it up before Sebby can see who it is, ever the nosy little brother, she sees a message from Tyson popping up as they continue their conversation about Sebby’s love life and Anne’s lack thereof. . They had only been texting for a few days since their encounter at the hospital, but every time his name came up she couldn’t help but smile, lifting the wine glass to her lips to cover it in hopes of her siblings not noticing.

How’s your Christmas been so far?

A simple ‘eh’ as a response was all that she needed to send. It could be worse, but her mom trying to set her up with a guy with a girlfriend was definitely not something that made for a good Christmas. The only thing that could be worse is if their dad came home early from the flight he was on with a guy he picked up in whatever country he had to go to that prompted him to miss the holiday. Normal dads who had to travel would bring their kids back little trinkets or a postcard, but Anne wouldn’t put it past Tony to borderline kidnap someone from the plane he was flying and bring them home for Anne.

Tyson’s contact comes up again, an incoming call that prompted Anne to step away so she could answer it. “What’s up?”

“You said your Christmas was ‘eh.’ What’s going on?”

“It’s a long story,” she groans, pressing her back up against the fridge.

“Well, what if I have something that might make it better?” he flirts.

“Oh? Like what”

“What if I said I’m 100% free to buy you that coffee any time tomorrow, since I know you said you didn’t have work, and you can tell me about Christmas then?”

Anne hears her siblings laugh not ten feet away, praying that they couldn’t hear her conversation. Taking in a deep breath, she knew that her cheeks were turning pink at his words. “Sure, that sounds good. I’ll see you tomorrow?” she asks, walking back over to join her siblings.

“I’ll text you details,” he tells her, hanging up.

“Oh, my god,” Lucy yells, interrupting their conversation. “Anne was talking to a boy.”

“What the hell? What makes you think that?” she asks.

“Your cheeks are red," Lucy says, prompting Anne to raise her hand to feel the heat radiating from her face, "Who else would you be seeing tomorrow?” her sister eggs on, her eyebrow raised since she knew she was right.

Anne tries to find her words, unable to think of a name that wasn’t a guy's name to blurt out.

“Is it Tyson?” Sebby asks, Anne’s unlocked phone in his hand.

“You jackass!” she yells, lunging at her brother to try to get her phone back.

Teresa’s footsteps sound down the stairs, her poking her head between the gap in the stair rail and the steps themselves, Anne and Sebby looking like a deer in headlights when they see their mom. “I was coming to say that dinner was ready, but what’s going on here?”

“Anne has a boy she wasn’t telling us about,” Sebby blabs, earning an ‘I’ll kill you’ look from Anne.

“Oh! Annie!” their mom squeals, running down the stairs to pick her up off the ground and hug her. “Why didn’t you tell us about him?”

“I, uh,” Anne starts, still not sure what to say.

“You have to bring him to New Year’s Day at Uncle Vince’s house,” she tells her, the rest of the siblings following Anne being dragged back up the stairs for dinner, her mom announcing that Anne had a boyfriend when she, in fact, didn’t.

=============

December 26, 2021

“So, are you going to tell me why your Christmas was only ‘eh,’ or am I going to have to guess?” Tyson asks, setting down two cups of coffee in front of them. Tyson had asked Anne to meet him at a small coffee shop that was within walking distance of her apartment, thankful that she didn’t have to drive through Denver on the day where everyone was returning anything unwanted, like her Aunt Lisa returning one of the copies of the Agatha Christie novel that her and Sebby each got her.

Anne groans, the images of last night’s dinner flashing through her mind. “Can we talk about something else, first?”

“Fine,” Tyson says, taking a long sip of the coffee, “What did you get for gifts?”

She raises her eyebrow at him, Tyson mirroring her expression except with a goofy grin on his face. Rolling her eyes, she starts listing off the stuff she got: “My parents got me a new attachment for my KitchenAid stand mixer since my younger brother, Sebby, broke it last time he was over and a voucher for a flight anywhere in the country like they do every year, um, some gift cards from my aunts and uncles, my nieces all did their best attempts at drawing a portrait of me, Sebby told me he was going to come over and make dinner for me, which scares me because he can’t cook, Matthew and his wife got me some books they thought I would like, and Lucy and her husband got me this bracelet,” Anne tells him, extending her arm out to show him.

“I have so many questions,” Tyson starts.

“I might have answers,” Anne tells him, raising her cup to him.

“How big is your family?”

“I’m the third of four, Lucy and Matthew are twins and are about five years older than me, then Sebby is a year younger than me. Lucy has two daughters and Matthew has one. My dad has two brothers; one older, one younger. The older one has three kids, the younger has two and then three grandchildren.”

“Mom’s family?”

Anne looks down at her coffee. “I’m the only one who talks to anyone on that side of the family. My mom and her brother got into a fight when their parents died over what was left to them. My uncle has two daughters and two granddaughters.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, looking between the coffee and Anne.

She shrugs, not really bothered by it at this point. “It’s whatever. I talk to them because I want to, so it’s fine. What other questions do you have, though?”

“The ticket voucher?”

“Yeah,” Anne laughs, “Our dad is a pilot with Southwest Airlines, so every Christmas they give us a voucher to fly anywhere we want. They say they want to make sure that we take time for ourselves, but I think Dad gets some sort of bonus for every voucher he buys.”

Tyson throws his head back laughing. It wasn’t that funny, but seeing him so happy, Anne couldn’t help but smile back at him. “What about you, what did you get for Christmas?”

“My mom and sister flew down and basically restocked my kitchen for me.”

“Ok, that’s a great present, though,” she says. “Where was your dad?”

The smile from Tyson’s face fades, not looking up at Anne. “I never knew him. My mom and grandmother raised me.”

“Oh, Tyson,” she says, reaching out for his hand. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.”

He shrugs, a forced smile on his face. “I wouldn’t trade it for anything, I don’t think. My mom and my grandmother are the reason I am who I am. I wouldn’t give that up or change it.”

The two of them sit there, Anne trying to think about how many times she helped deliver a baby when the father was nowhere to be found. She normally figured they were busy or just not in the delivery room, not being there all together was something she couldn’t even begin to imagine. “But enough about me. Why was your Christmas ‘eh’?”

“My family has it in their heads that I need a boyfriend,” she admits, Tyson smirking at her words. “And my brother saw your texts coming up on my phone and being the asshole that he is, announced that I was texting a boy, so now, I need to find someone to bring with me to my uncle’s house on New Year’s Day that I can pass off as you.”

Tyson gives her a confused look. “Why wouldn’t you just bring me?”

Anne sits there, a shocked look on her face. “Because they think ���Tyson’ is my boyfriend, and you aren’t?”

“So we pretend. They don’t need to know,” he shrugs, acting like it was no big deal.

“That would never work,” Anne dismisses him.

“Why not? You don’t think I’m a good actor?” Tyson whines, acting insulted at Anne’s words.

She scoffs, “Ok, one, hockey players are never good actors, and two, Sebby or Lucy are bound to figure out that you are not my boyfriend. Sebby wants to be a lawyer so he analyzes everything and Lucy is just this perfect anomaly of a human who would be bound to figure it out.”

“I think I can play your boyfriend for New Year’s Day,” he says, confidence dripping in his voice.

“No, I can’t have you do that.”

The maternity ward where Anne worked never ceased to be hectic, the miracle of life happening at least once an hour. No matter how much Anne had studied in nursing school, nothing could have prepared her for the stress that could come from thhe job, the long hours, the potential for something so right to turn so wrong in a minute, the way nothing can go planned since the baby dictated all, the mess that comes with every birth, or the joy that results from a former patient sending her the occasional picture of a baby she helped deliver as they’re growing up.

[lemonbalmgirl]

I can't remember the last time I made a general life update, so I figured I should.

Currently, I'm pet-sitting in Knoxville, Tennessee for 8 days. My friend Eli wanted to take a trip up to New York City for a friend's birthday, but couldn't find much locally in terms of longer-term pet-sitting, so they reached out to me and of course I said yes - I used to be their regular pet-sitter until they moved for work about 4 years ago.

So, I'm enjoying a week of vacation from regular life and hanging out with Ginger/Gigi/G/Peachy. It's a little bittersweet, because this is probably the last time I'll see her - she's 16, which is older than I thought, and has a lot of arthritis (and a hefty medication schedule to try and alleviate it). I'm still not sure if she actually remembers me from previous years, but after Eli had been for for 24 hours, Gigi got more comfortable with having me around and is basically the pupper I remember from Portland.

The only thing that makes this pet-sitting less great is that I'm physically away from home, and therefore can't hang out with Cute Girl, who I've been seeing regularly since we started hanging out at the end of August. We're kind of officially ladyfriends and are texting every day, even though I'm gone. Having a close-proximity partner again is really lovely and I feel like I was really lucky to meet her.

R's coming down to visit for a few days next month, which will be nice since I haven't seen him since the single overnight in July. He & Cute Girl aren't meeting yet, because it doesn't seem necessary and the visit will mostly be about reassuring him that I still want him in my life, enough though I have another local partner, and just enjoying some quality time together.

I do have work to do once I get back home - I was accepted to a witch-related holiday market in early December and I need to make a bunch of product, both jewelry and paintings. However, my chemical bath for electroforming is still out of commission and in need of some TLC. I did the first step of troubleshooting before I left Portland, but I didn't have enough time or brainpower to do more before I left. So it will be interesting trying to juggle fixing that and making art when Ryan's in town (but he knows I'll have some work to do).

I think that's basically where I'm at for the moment.

[seokmingiggles]

comfortable.

@gloryofroses19 requested on 201219: “Would you write a fluff Min Yoongi one shot where he’s crushing on Jimin and Taehyung’s fellow 95er best friend who’s birthday is 11 days before Taehyung’s (aka today), so she and Yoongi get together when he find her taking a break on a balcony at a surprise birthday party they threw for her (lying to her that it was for Taehyung) even though they know she hates the idea of being the center/doesn’t like making a big deal about her birthday?”

Pairing: Min Yoongi x female reader

Genre: fluff, friends to lovers(?), first confessions.

1.96k words

Warnings: some alcohol consumption.

At your surprise birthday party, you find yourself to be more enamoured by the musician accompanying you on your balcony than the happenings inside. Alternatively, where Yoongi has been waiting for the opportune moment to confess to you, unknowing that his feelings are mutual.

A/N: First of all, thank you for being my first request! I hope I’ve done your concept justice :) There are a couple of small details that I haven’t included, but the overall gist should be the same. I hope you enjoy it! And happy birthday if it’s anyone’s birthday who may be reading!

•• "I can't believe you two! This looks amazing. Thank you," Jimin beamed as he spun around to look at the array of decorations you and Taehyung had embellished his apartment with earlier that afternoon.

For Jimin's 25th birthday, you wanted to do something special. The boy was the biggest libra you knew—loving to host parties and social gatherings. While parties weren't typically your cup of tea, you and Taehyung knew that Jimin would appreciate the sentiment.

"I think we make a pretty good team, right, (Y/N)-ie?" Taehyung smiled back at Jimin's praise, patting your shoulder as he referred to you.

•

Only a couple of months later, you found yourself in a similar situation.

"Surprise!" A chorus of voices called out as you stepped into your apartment, Taehyung nudging you through the doorway as you were momentarily stunned.

"What's all this?" You forced a smile and directed the question to your tall friend beside you, slipping your shoes off and proceeding to remove your outerwear. You could already feel your face beginning to heat at all of the gazes directed at you.

Taehyung chortled, "It's for you, obviously. Happy birthday, (Y/N)-ie."

You had just been out for your annual birthday dinner with Taehyung and Jimin, your two best friends for many years. You should have suspected something when the elder suddenly stood from across the table shortly before he finished his meal, claiming he got an emergency text from his brother and had to leave right away. Really, the blond just wanted to make sure everything at your place was properly prepared before your arrival. Jimin picked up some last-minute snacks and drinks on his way to your apartment where everyone else was waiting patiently for your appearance.

You scanned the room around you. Where you'd normally have your comfortable, minimalist furnishings occupying the room, you found yourself standing before what had to be nearly a dozen people. You knew everyone here, that wasn't an issue. Instead, the matter was you simply didn't find joy in parties—even your own birthday party—despite the kind gesture from your two best friends who you knew put this gathering together out of love.

Your eyes landed on Seokjin, who was standing at your kitchen island having a conversation with Moonbyul and Sana; the two girls were laughing at something the eldest had said. Hoseok, Namjoon, and Nayeon, three you weren't completely familiar with, went to greet Taehyung behind you after wishing you a happy birthday. Mingyu and Jungkook were sitting on the sofa, each already with a drink in their hands. Yoongi sat in the armchair next to them; the youngest was beckoning you over to join them. As you were still a bit bewildered by the noise of the party, Jimin collected your hand and guided you to join him and the other three in the seating area.

Jimin took a seat on the floor after stealing a couch cushion to sit on, wanting to be close to the array of snacks organized on your coffee table. You figured it was because he had left the restaurant before he finished the last bits of his dinner (which Taehyung had no problem volunteering his stomach to handle the few remaining bites). You squished onto the end of the couch next to Mingyu, declining the offer of a drink that the boy held out to you as you sat down. Jimin accepted the drink on your behalf and the three gave a brief toast to you.

You eyed Yoongi for a moment. You knew him as a like-minded individual to yourself, in the sense that he also wasn't too fond of parties. Maybe that's why he was occupied with something on his phone. You noticed the slight pink tinge to his cheeks, likely from the beer, you considered, spotting the can on the side table next to him.

In reality, Yoongi was forcing himself to keep his eyes on his phone because he's sure he'd otherwise be caught admiring you. He already took in the pretty blush on the apples of your cheeks and the way you styled your hair nicely for your dinner with Jimin and Taehyung.

Yoongi didn't let himself have crushes very often, yet, he was unmistakably drawn to you. With your airy laughter and bright eyes and the most beautiful smile; how you'd appear lively even though he knew you were uncomfortable in party settings. Words couldn't encompass the effect you had on Yoongi. He was tongue-tied; smitten like a schoolboy having his first love.

He wanted to do something about his feelings for you, but he didn't know where to begin. Yoongi first met you through Taehyung when you were all back in college. He didn't know what to expect when the younger boy asked if he could bring his friend to Yoongi's piano recital later that spring but agreed nonetheless. Apparently, you were fond of classical music.

What was initially only some small talk at the end of the recital became a new acquaintance between the two of you. Sharing your favourite musicians and songs over coffee or the occasional study session after class happened naturally. Yoongi cherished the times you spent together during your studies. It was only natural for him to become disappointed when you drifted apart after graduation.

He thought that his feelings for you would subside from the distance created, but here he was in your presence once again, and it was like nothing had changed in his heart. He gulped down the last of his beer in an attempt to calm his senses.

•

Some playful conversation with your friends and a drink in you later, you found the heat radiating off your face becoming unbearable and decided to excuse yourself for a moment onto your balcony to regain your senses. For a one-bedroom apartment in the city, the balcony wasn't anything special to you. You typically didn't use it at all during the colder months of November to March, instead truly only utilizing it for the early summer sunrises that you had a front-row seat to.

Yoongi figured he must have done a poor job concealing his concern for you when Jungkook asked if he had too much to drink.

Yoongi just shook his head, muttering that he was fine as he watched you close the balcony door behind you.

"You should just tell her, hyung," Jimin had one hand on his full tummy and the other clutching a drink half-full, still sat on the floor. "Otherwise, nothing's going to keep happening between you two."

Yoongi tried to act like he was none-the-wiser of what the blond was talking about, only stopping his act when Jungkook interjected, "The least you could do is check if she's alright out there. Or maybe bring her a coat."

Yoongi wondered since when has Jungkook thought of good ideas? Especially after having a couple of drinks. The kid was more profound than he let on.

The nervous musician stood from the chair he'd been glued to thus far, wiping his clammy hands onto his jean-clad-thighs as he neared the balcony door after collecting your jacket. He told himself it was silly to be so anxious; he was only checking in on you.

Yoongi cleared his throat to prepare his voice from faltering, "Hey, are you feeling alright?"

You turned away from the cityscape to see him stepping outside, eyeing the bit of warm air escaping from inside as it became visible, mixing with the cool night atmosphere. The closed sliding door nicely muffled the overlapping voices and music from inside.

You nodded as Yoongi approached you, "I was getting a little bit stuffy inside. I'm good now, though. Crowds can wear me out after a while, especially in that small of a space."

"I'm the same way. I should've told those two to hold off on inviting so many people," the boy admitted. He briefly stood behind you to help you slip on the outerwear before taking a spot next to you by the railing.

"No, it's okay. I know how Taehyung and Jimin can get carried away when they plan something together. They were just excited and went overboard. Besides," you looked over your shoulder to peer past the door, "it looks like they're enjoying themselves, so it's all worth it."

The boy turned to look where your gaze was directed at, although he first admired the way your lips were tilted upwards as you watched your best friends dancing around in the living room with some of the other guests. Currently, Taehyung was trying to convince Seokjin to join him on the makeshift dance-floor between your furniture.

"This was supposed to be for you, though, (Y/N). It means nothing if you're not comfortable. If you're not enjoying yourself."

You turned your attention back to Yoongi, considering his point and then saying, "I'm comfortable. I feel comfortable out here with you, where it's much quieter other than the street noises below. You make me feel comfortable, Yoongi."

Despite the chilly December temperature, Yoongi's face never felt more warmed.

"You make me feel comfortable too, (Y/N)," he whispered. He saw your expression change as he spoke; you now looked genuinely content than how you were acting inside.

You maintained eye contact with the boy in front of you, taking in every feature on his face; the way his eyes looked in the moonlight, the small roundness of his nose, his cheekbones slightly flushed, his lips.

You'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't find Min Yoongi attractive. From the moment you first saw him, you had been entranced by his performance on the piano; and it grew every minute after. Beginning to learn more about him as a person just made your admiration grow stronger.

"Forgive me if I'm being too forward, but could I kiss you?"

Your eyes widened for a split second as you processed the words leaving Yoongi's mouth, but you found yourself nodding before you could verbalize your thoughts.

Yoongi brought his hand gently to the side of your face, grazing your hair out of the way before he leaned in to connect your lips. His hand was cold from standing outside, but his lips were hot; you relished in the feeling of moving your mouth against his. He tasted slightly of beer but smelled of vanilla and musk.

You finally parted but kept your bodies close. You noticed how your hand made its way to his arm while his other one was delicately resting on your waist.

"Was that okay?" Yoongi timidly asked, not removing his gaze from you, your noses barely brushing.

"That was wonderful, Yoongi. The best birthday present," you smiled up at him and wrapped your arms around his torso.

"I can think of something better," he began, taking in the cute tilt to your head as you questioned his thoughts. "How about I take you out for dinner later this week. Does Saturday night work for you?"

You hummed like you were in deep thought, earning a light chuckle from the boy in your arms. "Tomorrow? I'll agree to dinner on one condition."

"And what might that be?"

You smoothed your thumb against his side, suddenly taking an interest in the collar of his jacket, "Could you kiss me again on Saturday?"

Now Yoongi was the one to pretend to be in profound consideration, finally replying, "I guess you'll have to wait to find out. But the odds seem likely. I like you a lot, (Y/N)."

"Good," you giggled, pulling him closer into your embrace, "I like you too. Otherwise, that whole interaction would have been uncomfortable."

Yoongi squeezed you back and smiled at your words, already wanting to kiss you once more without waiting for Saturday.

••