#i’ve been watching her for 3 hours and i’m exhausted and she’s miserable.

[ghostzzy]

love mishka with all my heart but she really is a continual reminder of all my inadequacies and some days it really hurts

[kaunis-sielu]

Sick: 3

When you wake up you don’t feel much better than you did when you went to sleep. You’re just, exhausted.

But you won’t tell Helen that, she doesn’t look like she’s slept yet, she and Simmons are looking at something in microscopes. You don’t say anything until both women are away from the eye pieces.

“Hey,” Jemma glances over her shoulder at you, she’s in full hazmat gear and looks miserable.

“Hi. How are you feeling?” Jemma asks but Helen doesn’t look at you. You know that she isn’t because you’ll be able to tell with a glance if she’s rested or not.

“Totally fine. Has Helen slept yet?”

“No.”

“Helen.” You scold but she doesn’t stop working.

“I’m fine.”

“It’s been over 24 hours.”

“Not the longest I’ve gone.” She argues and you frown at her back.

“Jemma a little help here.” You look over at her and you see her sigh.

“Helen, we can do this, you should take a break.” Jemma tells her but you don’t have much hope she’s going to listen.

“I’m fine I swear.” She still hasn’t looked at you so you know it’s bull shit.

“Then look at me and say it to my face.” Helen is a shit liar and you all know it. You see her shoulders slump in defeat as she turns toward you. “The last thing we need is one of us down.”

“You’ll have to do it for me.” She tells you with a heavy sigh. “I can’t turn off, not with a puzzle like this.” You nod, if this is what you need to do to make sure she stays healthy and get some rest you’re fine with that.

“Do you just wanna share a room?” You ask and she nods then follows you into the room you’d just left. She lays on the bed that you hadn’t used and once she’s comfortable she looks at you.

“I’m ready.” She says softly and you touch her shoulder. With two slow, heavy blinks she falls asleep.

You head back out into the lab and head directly for Tony, Sam and Clint.

“How are they?”

“No change.” Jemma says, “Which is probably a good and a bad thing.” You nod as you gently touch each of your friends to make sure they’re not in any pain. You’re relieved that they seem to not be in much pain, you’re sure the IV’s they have in probably have some pain killers in them but you’re still glad you can focus more on other things. Like helping figure out what’s wrong with them.

“How are you feeling?” Jemma asks as she watches you take Clint’s temperature.

“Fine. A little tired but nothing like this.”

“The second you feel any sort of symptoms I need to know.”

“Okay.” You agree absently, Clint’s temperature is still up, 100° is a little high but it’s nothing like the 102.7° Sam was yesterday.

“Nox, I mean it.” Jemma says and you meet her gaze.

“I will. Sorry, I didn’t mean to make it seem like I wasn’t listening.”

“I just, I’ve never seen anything like this and neither has Helen.”

“You’re worried.” You don’t have to ask, you can see it.

“Yea,”

“Me too.” You admit softly this isn’t like anything you’ve seen either. Someone taps on the glass of the wall and when you look over you see Steve. He’s holding a bag and a to go cup, god you miss him.

“Hi Honey,” he says with a little smile, “can I give you some food?”

“You’ll have to put it in the slot and send it through.”

“Can I stay?” He asks and you nod. Jemma suddenly vanishes to give you and Steve a moment. “I miss you.”

“I know but it’s the only way until we can figure out how to make this stop I can’t risk you.” You tell him, you can’t imagine how loud he must be talking. “Do you want to send an ear piece through? So we can talk?”

“You’re a genius.” He says with a grin before shoving the food and drink into the little delivery slot and closes the door on his side.

“Is it safe to come back or are you two going to be all gross and lovey?”

“I mean he’s going to get ear pieces so we can talk so, it’s probably going to be gross and lovey for a minute.” You tell her with a laugh and she fake retches. “Excuse me, you’re the one who got married to your bestie so don’t even with me.” You tease her and she laughs.

“I wish he could be here.” You hum softly, you’re glad you know where Steve is but you also wish he was a lot further away.

“Why don’t you get your pepper pods and call him? I know you two like to bounce ideas off one another and he might be helpful.” You open the bag and see a bagel wrapped in paper towel and one sip of the drink reveals that it’s not coffee like it looks, instead it’s orange juice. God you love him.

Steve comes back and sends an ear piece through and then gets comfortable on the other side of the glass as you put in the ear piece.

“I brought our book.”

“Chronicles of Narnia?”

“Yea.”

“You don’t mind reading?”

“Of course not.” You hum happily and Steve starts to read as you work. You’re peering through a new sample of Sam’s blood, whose temperature has gone down even more than before. It’s still too high but you’ll take it as good news, you have to take it as good news.

Helen wakes up a few hours later, you’re still listening to Steve read, he’s finished the Magician’s Nephew and has moved onto the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. You love the way his rich voice fills your ear as you work.

“How’s it going?” Helen asks and Steve pauses, the two of you are still only wearing masks, not the full hazmat suit that Jemma is wearing.

“Temperatures are down and Jemma has been working with Leo, running through things but so far no big revelations. How are you feeling?”

“Well rested. Thank you.” She says and you nod, “I’m going to take more blood. I just, I feel like this is there somewhere.”

“Do you want to take bone marrow too?”

“Maybe. I want a look at the blood again.” She says and you nod. The door to Bucky’s quarantine room opens and when you glance up you’re shocked at what he looks like.

“Buck?” Steve says in your ear and you know you’re not the only one who noticed how pale and confused he looks. Bucky stumbles toward Helen, he looks furious and you dart in front of her.

“Кто ты? Где я?” He growls in Russian.

“Bucky,” you say crouching, you just need to get a hand on him. “I’m your friend, Nox.”

“Кто такой Баки? Я не знаю тебя.” You dive then, touching his leg and he stumbles back. “Doll?” He says in English, and you hear the door open with a hiss. Steve has overridden the safety protocols and is in the room.

“No!” You scream jumping up and crashing into Steve to try and force him back.

“Bucky!”

“Steve?”

“Steve! Get out! Get out!” You’re in a blind panic, if Bucky can get sick so can Steve. “You have to get out!”

“Honey, it’s too late.” He says down at you with a sad smile, “I’m already exposed so let me help.”

“Why.” You breathe, “why would you do this? I can’t, Steve, I can’t.” You can’t lose him and it’s suddenly a very, very real possibility.

“He didn’t know you.” Steve says simply, his hand cupping your face. Of course he would abandon any thought of keeping himself safe if you were in danger.

“Nox! A little help.” Helen says pulling your attention to the her, Jemma and Bucky. “Steve at least put a mask on you dumbass.” She snaps and he nods moving away from you as you move toward Bucky.

“James, I’m going to help you rest now.” You tell him gently cupping his face, you’re grateful he’s already on the floor propped up against the wall.

“I’ll get him into a bed.” Steve says coming toward you.

“No!” You snap, “stay away from him.”

“Honey, I don’t think you can lift him.”

“Watch us.” You snap, and thankfully he stays back.

“Steve you should go to one of the quarantine rooms.” Helen says, and he scowls down at her. You focus on getting Bucky onto a backboard, rolling him as a team you, Jemma and Helen get him onto the backboard.

“On three,” Helen says, “one, two, three.” You all lift him together and place him on one of the two last open beds in the room. God please, please don’t let Steve be the next one. After you get Bucky onto the bed you check his temperature while Helen and Jemma get him hooked up to some monitors. Then Helen takes some blood and hurries over to the microscopes are. Steve watches from the doorway of his own quarantine room, his arms folded across his chest and the sight of him, in here, makes you want to vomit, to scream, to break something and to cry all at the same time.

“We’re going to figure this out.” Jemma says softly, placing a hand on your arm. You know you will, but will it be too late?

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[jodilin65]

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 30, 1988 I just finished watching Unsolved Mysteries. It was ok, but I’ve seen better shows of theirs.

Earlier I worked as the office manager at Channel 57 for the second time. It’s very boring and tedious but it’s something to do. It’s a very easy job though I had feared before it would be difficult. There isn’t much that’s too hard for me. If you can learn to play a musical instrument and all the other things I’ve learned, then you can learn anything, although I hate anything dealing with numbers.

There are still times I wish I were straight and could have sex with a guy and enjoy it and be attracted to a guy as I am to women, but they’re such assholes. But then again, male or female, that is all I ever get anyway.

I’m taking a chance nonetheless. I sent Between Friends $70, but if I’m not attracted to any of these 3 women or they’re jerks or they’re decent and I lose them, then I think I’d be damn entitled to my money back. I guess if that happens, you renew your membership. Like hell I will. For $295? No way!

I’ve been taking only 5mg of Navane and I’ve been basically ok. Only a couple of bad times, but they passed; those racing thoughts that make me depressed.

Well, it doesn’t look like I’m going anywhere for Chanukah or my b-day. Tammy and I got into another squabble as usual and she hasn’t called. But I won’t be surprised if she does. It’s like Andy said to me, “You know you’re gonna make up with her.” No doubt she’ll call at the last minute. Actually, though, I’m really kind of hoping she’ll stay pissed and not call. I don’t think I want to go down there. Besides, I despise the fact of having Nerve drive me down and totally dread it.

The bus ticket price coming back is crazy and I also feel I’d like to celebrate alone. Once again I get that feeling of pride at not turning to anyone on my b-day. I’m really doing great at sheltering myself and keeping independent.

Andy or Nervous should be calling any minute now I guess.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 25, 1988 I woke up this morning feeling miserable so I called my allergy doctor. Next Wed. at 10:00 I see him.

Thank God Nervous woke me up. He tried at 10:00 but obviously, I never heard the phone. When he called back at 11:30, I was exhausted. If I sleep too much I feel tired.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 24, 1988 I got back an hour or so ago from Longmeadow where we had dinner. It was nice, except for the fact that half the meal exploded on the stove, cuz as we’ve learned, you never put glass on a stove. But she did, so we had a hell of a mess. Also, Becky broke a plate. We took pictures of both of these episodes for Mom. She’ll love it.

When Tammy came to pick me up we went to Store 24 so I could get ciggies and a lighter and she said she saw Nervous. Probably spying. He did call last night and it looks like I am stuck with him going to Salem.

I just called Ma and said we’re so glad she’s 1400 miles away. We’re sending her pictures.

Tammy says my singing’s not the worse but it’s not the best. That’s good enough for me.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 23, 1988 Well, they say it gets worse before it gets better. Today I had a miserable day, but I stuck to only 5mg instead of 10mg of Navane. I feel very much better than I have since I cut down. It was miserable as the doctor said it would be. I was very dizzy all the time and my mind was racing and I was anxious as all hell, but it’s gone now. The question is for how long, though? Tammy agreed I just needed to adjust. Still seems always to be worse before my period which I should be getting any day now. I’ve been cramping like hell.

Al was supposed to call me again tonight and he hasn’t yet and I have come to hope he won’t.

Andy never called last night like he said he would and Nervous didn’t either and probably won’t tonight either.

Speaking of Andy, he’s on the phone with me now. He may be coming over later.

Nervous probably won’t call til after my birthday cuz of the nasty things I’ve said. He’ll try to avoid giving me a ride cuz it’s for Chanukah and my birthday and he’ll never get me a gift. That’s how obsessive males are. They always figure they’re owed something in return.

I haven’t shit in a week and I don’t know why. I’ve taken my Medimucal and have eaten a lot. The Navane causes that and the doctor says once you cut down or stop, the side effects get worse before they get better, so I’ll have to suffer for a while longer. Probably won’t shit for another week or two.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 22, 1988 I got up at 7:15 after having some very unpleasant dreams.

Sure enough, there was a message on my machine from Andy. I think I remember hearing it when he called, but I was just too damn tired, and I figured that once I was fully awake after talking with him, I’d never go back to sleep.

I had woken up at 1:00 to go pee and get some cookies and something to drink and the cat was so funny. She came over to where I was sitting at the kitchen table and squinted up at me through half-closed eyes. You could see she had definitely been sound asleep and wasn’t used to the bright lights yet, but as soon as I get up, she does too. Every morning it’s the same routine. I get up, go into the bathroom, close the door and she waits outside the door and meows. When I come out, she follows me into the kitchen where she demands to be petted and loved and then I feed her. After that it’s playtime. I have the same routine for waking up in the morning. Coffee, then music.

I also woke up last night at 3:00 to smoke maybe 6 drags off a cigarette, then again at 4:30.

Later…

Today’s the day I go for my interview at the school department on State St. I hope they need me full-time cuz I’m gonna have some free time till I move.

Later, I’ve got to call Mansfield about my written exam and the temporary permit I was supposed to have received in the mail a long time ago. I thought the director was supposed to get back to me, but she hasn’t yet.

December 3rd is gonna be one miserable day with having to put up with the mouth and crazy driving.

I want to hurry up and move so badly. Tammy says she highly doubts I’ll be here when the summer comes, but who knows? I didn’t think I’d still be here now.

I hope this court case gets dropped if I don’t drop it myself by not showing up. Everyone says it’ll get dropped and that they just want to waste my time. That’s males for you. My lawyer’s an asshole. A typical male for sure. I’m glad I’m gay. I really am. It may be hard to find a woman who’s gay, let alone a good one, but 98% of males are jerks. Statistics say so many wives and girlfriends get abused by their boyfriends or husbands.

Al dumped me simply cuz I wasn’t good enough for him, cuz of my past and cuz he couldn’t get it in there. He was very negative and there was always something wrong with me. He can have a happy life, cuz he’ll never get a decent woman, nor is he capable of loving anyone.

Later…

I’m gonna be volunteering at one of the schools doing library assisting, Monday, Wednesday & Thursday. Also, if they need me to speak sign language or Spanish, they’ll let me know. She also said sometimes for the holidays they need singers.

I called Al before I left and told him how I feel. All I want to do is make him happy and be happy as well. I want him to give me a chance to show I care and want him to try to care for me. I know what I did wrong back then and would never repeat my mistakes. I realize I may have had some problems, but he ran away as if he didn’t care. I didn’t mean to scare him away, but I just wish he’d open up and be more encouraging, not so negative. I would never hurt him. I just want to spend the night in his arms with good things to talk about. I want to feel cared for and I want to care for him. I know he’d never marry and have kids with me, and I accept that. He says he’s gonna call me later. If he does, he’ll never come over.

Later…

I just got Gloria’s album Otro Vez and I can’t believe how much I understand. The picture of her on the back cover looks pitiful. She had short hair, seemed plump and looked like Liza Manelli. There was this other girl too, but Gloria looked awful. They’re supposed to send me the other one called Rio soon. They’re temporarily out of stock of it. I owe them $10 for this album and tomorrow or Friday I’ve got to go to get the two 12” records I ordered.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 21, 1988 Today at 3:00, I have to see Dr. Osborne. That sucks.

Tomorrow I go for an interview at the school dept. I wonder what they will need me to do.

I just called Elizabeth who says she’s gonna have some photocopying but isn’t sure when she’ll have the stuff ready but will call me today or tomorrow to let me know for sure. Probably Wednesday.

Last night I called Tammy and even sang for her a little on the phone. I told her I wanted a music book for my birthday. Either Canciones De Mi Padre or Madonna. Hope she gets it.

I still don’t know what to get my family and friends but I don’t think I’m gonna shop till next month. Around December 1st I’ll start my gift shopping.

Later…

I just called Tammy and told her that Philip can’t bring me down to her place on December 3rd cuz he’s going to Mexico. If not, I’ll be on the bus.

Tammy said, “Just use Nervous. It’ll be only for an hour and a half. “

No way, I told her. He’s too pushy, never shuts up, drives like a maniac and I just don’t trust his car.

Tammy said she’ll get back to me.

Nervous says he’s gonna get me a keyboard but I doubt it, and if he does, he better not expect me to kiss his ass cuz things aren’t gonna change.

Oh God, what’s he gonna do when I move? He’ll just die. I’ll give him my address and number but I really don’t want to see him. I will, however, talk to him on the phone. Why not? He’ll be paying and he’s more tolerable on the phone than in person. If I ever let him see me inside my apartment or in the neighborhood, he’ll no doubt be awfully curious and will probably spy. I hope he does. The thought amuses me.

Later…

I called for bus fare info just in case and the prices are outrageous. $20 one-way and $38 round-trip. Ridiculous. I’ll get down there somehow.

In 20 minutes or so I’ve got to catch the bus downtown, then transfer to the Feeding Hills bus. What sucks is that I’m gonna have to wait for a half-hour for the doctor and then 40-45 minutes for the bus afterward.

Later…

I am now at Osborne’s waiting to see the “Wizard of Oz.” I think I just saw Debbie, the little jerk.

When I got off the bus I went to Dunkin Donuts cuz I knew I had time to kill and I’ll have plenty of it to kill after I see Oz, too. Before I got on the Feeding Hills bus I went into Johnson’s and bought more journals. A big one and a little one. The prettiest one of all has no lines.

It’s about 3:00 now and I hope he’s not late as all doctors are. But then again it really doesn’t matter cuz the next bus isn’t till 4:00. After I see him I’ll be damned if I’ll wait outside. It’s too windy. I’ll wait in here.

I’ve been thinking about moving a lot lately. Yes, I really do want to move. And fast. But it’ll no doubt take several more months.

Later…

I just saw Ozzy and now I’m waiting for the bus. He’s a really nice guy. He says I’ve come a long way and have been through a lot. He agrees I am a survivor and can handle anything. He also says I definitely must stop the Navane. He understands it’ll be difficult but that it’s important to reverse the tardive dyskinesia. He gave me some tea which I’ll finish now, then go to the bus stop.

Later…

I am home now and I just ate 3 pieces of chicken, some rice and some green beans. Next, I’ll take my meds and my vitamins.

Some crazy wacko was running her mouth at the bus stop about the shelter she’s living in and the job she wants. Some people are weird. Reminds me of Nervo.

Wednesday I can’t forget to watch my show Unsolved Mysteries. I missed it last week.

I wonder when the people’s daughter, son and grandson upstairs are gonna move out. Their footsteps are obnoxious. Drunkie downstairs would just love it.

This morning, shortly before 8:30 I heard the bitch next door go out for work and I called her to make her run back inside, then hung up. She probably thinks she just got to the phone too late and will be wondering all day who it could’ve been.

Well, tonight is when Ma calls so I’ll postpone my shower till after she calls. Tammy has to get back to me, too.

Later…

The phone rang, I picked it up and said, “Hi ma.”

The reply was, “Wrong. It’s Elizabeth.” She was laughing and said she certainly wasn’t expecting that. She says she’s got no work for me this week but next Tues. she thinks she does.

I also told her I was apprehensive about being the office manager but says she’ll hang around at first till I get the hang of it. Also, Cheryl will be there. She said they’ll make sure I know what to do and that I’m enjoying it or else I can do something else. I told her that I’m sure I’ll enjoy it and that once I get started it’ll be easy.

I just remembered Andy’s calling tonight too, along with Nervous, as usual. He’ll never fail to forget to call.

Later…

Dad just called. He sounds good. I told him what I wanted but I guess they’re sending me money instead.

I discussed the progress I’ve been making on my piano and told him the two things that were the most shocking. One, my getting the voice to sing and two, their being on my side.

I told him I pictured him being part of an interview someday where a guy says to my father, “She says she’s so glad she has enough money now so she can take you out to dinner.” I can just see the expression on my father’s face. Dad said it’ll come in time. He seems so sure of me.

Later…

Tammy just called. No one can give me a ride to Salem! I gotta go with Nervous! Shit! Damn! Fuck! Why do I always end up having to use that low-life scum? He’ll never shut up. He’ll get us killed or his car will break down. Well, just think, soon I’ll be moved and I’ll be through with him.

Andy better not call me when I’m sleeping or else!

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 19, 1988 Yesterday I had a long day at Channel 57. I canceled my check-up so I could work longer but will reschedule after Turkey Day for sure.

Andy called and told me not to think he died but that he’s had company all weekend. A bunch of relatives are coming to see his sister and her baby. So he won’t be calling me till Monday.

Tammy also called to say that she wants me to get a ride down to her place on December 3rd for a Chanukah dinner, then stay overnight and celebrate my b-day the next day which will be a Sunday.

How? I don’t know if Philip will be able to get me down there. I’ll never ask Nervous but Tammy said to just use him for the ride and she’ll send him right back home afterward. I never want to have to use him to drive me anywhere and take the chance of getting killed or his car breaking down and I couldn’t stand to put up with him that long. He’ll never shut up and he’s a little pushy bastard!

She says she doesn’t know if Mom and Dad are even coming home this winter for the holidays and the store. She says she hasn’t heard one way or the other. It doesn’t look like they’ll be coming back until April. But then again, I thought I remembered Dad saying they would be here one time in the van as he was bringing me home from somewhere. Every other winter they’ve come in.

I changed the bedroom around to the way it was before I discovered this spider nest.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 17, 1988 I fell asleep very early last night but kept waking up for 3 reasons. One is that the phone kept ringing. Two is cuz I kept having to pee after taking my water pill. Three is I kept having these weird dreams.

Last night I had this really weird dream about Nervous. Apparently, in this dream, I owned my own home which had a basement and a first floor. I was in the basement which was a long room lined with small windows along a wall that was a little over my head. I was going through some old clothes when I heard a car and said to myself, That’s Nervous’s car. I know it is.

I turned off all the lights and stood behind some furniture in the center of the room and waited. Sure enough, I heard him shuffling through the grass and saw him walk up to the farthest window at the very end of the room where my stereo was. He just stood there and waited, no doubt hoping I’d come down to listen to my stereo.

Next thing I know he was in the cellar with me, the lights were on, and I was telling him I heard his car and saw him walk up to the window. He stood there laughing. Then there was a double-size bed near the stereo and I was lying on it starting to feel very sleepy and he was sitting on the other side of it. All of a sudden he had his arms around me and asked, “Is this wrong?”

I got up off the bed and said, “Yes, this is wrong. You sleep here and I’ll go upstairs to sleep in my bedroom. When you get up in the morning, wake me up and I’ll let you out.”

But then he started to get up off the bed and follow me and said, “Let’s talk.”

Then the phone rang and I said, “Who the fuck is that at this hour? You answer it.”

Later…

I called Dee to see if she could do my hair, and she said to come in at 11:00. I want it trimmed so that it’s one length, although I don’t think I look really terrible with my short hair layered. Maybe if I grew my hair long again I’d look too much like a little girl. I know I’ll definitely keep the front short with layered bangs, but I guess I do really miss my length and it’s gonna take me about 5 years to get it even and to the middle of my back.

I was thinking I may walk up to Shopper’s for my Femstat and have breakfast at the deli next door.

Later…

I just had my hair evened out and it looks really nice. I also bought this shampoo which she used to make my hair really soft.

I was also up at the deli where I got eggs and toast and some coffee. Tony, the cop I know, was there and as usual, he teased my ass like crazy.

Elizabeth is coming over tonight with envelopes for me to stuff.

I told Nervous last night to call me around 8:00 so he can take me food shopping.

I’ve got to tell Nervo about the dream I had last night. He should definitely get a kick out of it. Probably wish it could be true, too. Getting his arms around me, staying overnight.

I bought some more clothes from Goodwill. A bra, two pairs of sweatpants, pajamas and another nightie, which is so tiny and fits me perfectly.

By the way, speaking of the weight I lost, even Tony noticed it too. It’s a little scary in a way, though, cuz every summer I automatically lose 10-15 pounds. This summer I certainly can’t afford to lose one more pound! I’d be bones.

Mary Lou just called saying I needed to see Dr. Osborne Monday at 3:00 cuz I never saw Dr. Moshiri. That means I can’t see her and that sucks.

Also, I’m gonna write to Medicare about their crazy policy that the therapists can’t come to our homes. We have to go there which sucks cuz not everyone has a car and it’s not easy for the therapists either.

I just finished having a whole can of sardines, 10 pieces of bacon and a bagel with cream cheese.

Right now I must go call Elizabeth and ask her to please try to bring my paperwork earlier.

Later…

Tomorrow at 9:00 I have to go to Channel 57 to do the work I was supposed to do here at home. Elizabeth says she was having trouble with her printing machine. Also, Channel 57 voted me volunteer of the month, therefore I’m to have my picture in their magazine with a few paragraphs about me.

Tomorrow I also have to get a dental check-up at the Holyoke Mall. I would never ask Nervous to drive me with the sick way he drives, nor could I stand to have to put up with him that long.

Nervo may be calling soon. I don’t need or want him to take me to Food Mart.

I wonder where Sasha is. Must be hiding out sleeping either under the bed or under the couch or chairs in the living room. 95% of the time, though, she’s on the bed.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 16, 1988 If I don’t get to sleep I’ll never make it to my appointment in the morning. Also, at 2:30 I have to see a GYN. A male. I hate these painful exams!

There are so many things up in the air right now and so many questions. What will happen in court? What will happen with the dating service? What’s my future gonna be? What’s gonna happen if no other medication but the Navane will work?

Later…

Well, Nervous called me at 7:30 but I fell back asleep so I missed my appointment. I rescheduled it for Dec. 1st.

Hopefully tonight I’ll be going to Food Mart. I’ve been out of soda and milk and want to get some TV dinners. Also, I should get some light bulbs cuz I have no more and if the lamp in the bedroom burns out, then I’m stuck.

This afternoon at 2:30 I’m definitely going to my GYN appointment to take care of this yeast infection. I’ll walk there. They’re not too far from here. I’ll probably leave between 1:45 and 2:00.

I wonder if that gay taxi driver, Linda, is gonna call today? I never know if Maria will ever call. Why can’t she just be honest? Why she ever gave me her phone number totally baffles me. It even shocked Andy. Andy says Maria hasn’t even called Bev.

I’ve got a package of bacon in the refrigerator that I think I’m gonna go make up now, along with a bagel for breakfast.

Later…

Believe it or not, I just got a call from the school department. This woman wants me to come in for an interview for volunteer work. She says she’s not in need of an interpreter but would like to discuss the possibility of me doing something else. That’d be great. It’ll keep me busy. I hope. I hope it’s full-time. I’m going crazy just sitting here every day going nowhere but to doctors and doing errands.

I spoke to Mary C also. She was watching a movie on HBO and says her son William is sick and she just brought him home from the doctor’s.

She said she may take a drive over later. Yeah, sure. She damn well better plan on giving me back my black sweatpants she took the last time I saw her. Either way, she is going to return them and never again will she be allowed to borrow one single thing.

I think now I’m gonna take a walk to the store. I’m dying for some soda.

Later…

I took a bath and shaved, then I ran to the store for some soda and a hamburger.

In a little more than a half-hour from now, I’m gonna start walking over to Ridgewood Terrace for the crotch doctor which I dread. Another male touching my body. It’s so painful, too.

The mailman just came, but not with Gloria’s records I ordered, so I sent them back.

Some stupid Puerto Rican is outside honking its horn as usual. I’m so sick of this neighborhood. After growing up in beautiful areas, I miss it, and it’s time to move. That is for sure. When I move I won’t have to worry about leaving my doors open or anything. I highly doubt I will associate with Nervous when I move. I won’t need him and it wouldn’t be the greatest idea for him or for me. He’ll always be lonely with no woman and no friends and when I move, or possibly before, maybe he’ll realize why. He’s such a sad case. Que lastima.

Later…

I am at the doctor’s office now and the secretary seems kind and reassuring but I still hate to go through this shit.

It’s almost 3:00 but the doctor is running late as usual. Aren’t all doctors always late?

Mrs. Witherspoon from the 4th floor drove me here. I called for a taxi but it never came and the dispatcher couldn’t page Linda.

Later…

Well, the exam went ok and yes, as usual, I do have a yeast infection.

The dispatcher could never page Linda the gay driver so I got a different driver to go home. It cost me $2.

It seemed so dark all day. Even at 2:00. It’s not even 5:00 and it’s already just about pitch dark.

I hope Elizabeth will be willing to meet me at Montpelier St. tomorrow night a little earlier when she brings to me those envelopes she wants me to stuff. She’ll never be able to see me nor I see her if it’s too dark.

I hope Nervous calls soon. I do want to go to Food Mart. Never would I ask him to take me anywhere during the daytime. That’s when he’s always in his fucked-up mood and is so agitated and acts and talks like a two-year-old. I wonder why the daytime makes him more nervous. Several mornings ago he was extremely wound up but I’m quite sure that was cuz Fran had spent the night which he’s been dying to do. The first question out of his mouth when he called was, “Is monkey brain still there?”

I wouldn’t put it past him to come down to Norwich and say, “My car broke down. Can I stay the night?”

He’ll never get to stay the night, and if he comes to see me against my wishes I’ll kick his ass.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 15, 1988 Nervous brought Sasha back last night. I really missed her although I never thought I would. I just hope the inspector doesn’t decide to double-check. Unfortunately, Carabetta allows no pets. Which is stupid. What if they were animals? Would they like to be homeless and out on the streets?

Also last night, Andy came over to teach me more songs. I’ve learned Talk To Me completely now and he also showed me some of If I Were You. I know Sara completely but need to finish learning La Isla Bonita. I attempted today to learn the song Piano Man by myself from an old book I’ve had for ages but it sure isn’t easy. I’m sure I’ll get it someday soon, though.

Today Andy called, but the answering machine picked up his call cuz I was in the shower. I knew it was him right away by the way he was singing at the top of his lungs. He and I both are crazy.

Nervous will no doubt call later.

Today I went to see my new therapist Mary Lou. She was ok. Nothing bad, but nothing spectacular. I ran my mouth quite a bit to her and she says I’m interesting.

Also today I was looking to buy a denim mini skirt, size 14 in girls, but they didn’t have a fitting room so I never bought it.

Before going to see Mary Lou I had a few minutes to kill so I looked in Falcetti’s for a music book, but I didn’t like the way this Madonna book was written and they have a shitty music selection, so I bought nothing there either.

I’ve been tired all day and I think I need to go eat now.

Later…

Nervous called. He didn’t have much to say. Just the usual about how he’s so busy running around here, there and everywhere. According to him, he was looking in a music store in the Eastfield Mall where they sell Yamaha keyboards. I wonder why cuz I told him to forget about that and instead just give me $100 for my birthday and Chanukah so I can pay for my dating service. Both would be nice, but that’s a little too much to ask for and that’d surely leave him broke and he’d end up evicted again.

Tomorrow morning at 9:30 I have an appointment with my asthma doctor in which I’m gonna have a taxi driver, who’s gay, that I met over the phone drive me cuz there’s no bus stop near their new office. I’m curious to see what she looks like. Probably butchy. She sounds like it just from talking to her over the phone. She’s had a girlfriend for 5 years she said.

Yesterday morning I called Maria at the bank where she works cuz I couldn’t get a hold of her for quite a while, and as usual, she hasn’t called me. I can’t believe she ever even gave me her phone number. Neither can Andy. Well, anyway, she says maybe sometime this week we can go see a movie. Yeah, sure! Why can’t she just be honest?

Later…

I just got off the phone with Nervous and right now I’m on the phone with Andy.

Emily really pisses me off. She never calls and therefore I’ll be damned if I’m ever gonna call her again. She’s busy, she’s tired. That’s a lie. She’s got time for other people and places. Like her friends Maria and Sylvia. She totally ignored me when I went to see her up at Shopper’s. Especially when Sylvia came in, as I may’ve mentioned before. I’m not even gonna say goodbye when I move.

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 13, 1988 I called the dating service and she really reassured me, although there are no guarantees, but time will tell.

Friday I got a promotion from Channel 57. Instead of answering phones I’m gonna be the office manager. My job will be to help other girls with any problems they may have, tally up pledges and enter them into a book.

Wednesday of next week, Elizabeth is gonna bring over some envelopes to stuff.

Unfortunately, everything’s closed today but I’ll be going up to Shopper’s Drug today to see Emily.

Earlier this morning I scrubbed the kitchen floor 3 times as it was filthier than filthy, sang a little, and I hope to hell the inspector comes tomorrow and that Nervous calls so he can bring the cat back.

Am I very sorry I reunited as friends with Nervo! He’s his same old self. Pitiful. The way he drove to New Britain scared the shit out of me and he got us lost as usual after saying he knew where to go. I think maybe he did that deliberately, hoping they’d tell me it was too late whenever I got there and to come back another time. That way he could spend the day with me again.

He freaked out yesterday morning on the phone no doubt cuz Fran was here overnight, and after I get Sasha back I don’t want to associate with him again. I have learned my lesson. It took some time but he is a male and that’s the way they all are. Sick.

Later…

I went up to see Emily and I want nothing more to do with her either. She totally ignored me but when her pal Sylvia came in she jumped for joy. She’s totally abandoned our friendship. Ever since last year. But she has other friends she sees and calls all the time but she never calls me. Maybe she’ll get the hint when she never receives any more phone calls from me.

Believe it or not, I just got Mary C’s number. Yes, she’s still married to John and says she’s got 8 more weeks and 6 days till she has another baby. She says it’s John’s but told me a long time ago he couldn’t make anymore cuz he had a vasectomy. I wouldn’t be surprised if it wasn’t by cheating. She’s cheated on him numerous times in the past. That’s why it surprised me when they got married.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 10, 1988 Last night I took that medication again that Dr. Moshiri gave me and once again it put me right to sleep at 10:00. At 2:00 Andy called and I stayed up to reverse my schedule cuz yesterday I slept all day and never went to Channel 57. Today I have to go at 10:00, then at noon, I’m going to New Britain to that dating service. I have to be there at 1:00. But I couldn’t believe how that medication really calmed me down and took away all my anxiety.

Right now I have the hiccups.

Nervous bought me corrective tape cuz I typed him a business letter so I could easily erase any mistakes I made.

Yesterday morning I tried to call my sister but her line was busy for ages. I may call her tonight to tell her about today’s trip, but then again I don’t think she gives a damn. Oh well.

I called the doctor about my vaginal problem explaining I didn’t ever plan to have a relationship again with a male and that I preferred women and he said I shouldn’t even bother to do anything about the problem. He said not to force myself to do or be what I can’t. Do whatever’s natural for me and that’s being gay. I could never be straight and feel comfortable physically or mentally. Never. He’s right. He’s definitely got a point although I’d feel happier knowing that my problem was taken care of and it would surely help with everything else with a woman.

Nervous said he ran into Mary C and that she’s pregnant again. I’m not surprised, but it can’t be by John cuz she told me he supposedly had a vasectomy done. She’ll never make it with him cuz she has always cheated on him before, during and after their marriage and he’s a jerk. I never got her phone number but I don’t want it. She was never a friend. She only came over here when she wanted something.

I wish I could sleep now till 8:00 or 8:30 but I won’t chance it cuz I may never wake up and I must go to Channel 57!

Later…

I did stay up all night and right now I am at Channel 57 waiting for my boss Elizabeth who is still in a meeting.

After my work is done, and I sure as hell hope I get done before noon, I am going to New Britain.

Well, I am really very tired but I’d best ignore it cuz I have a long day ahead. I know I want to get something to eat either before my interview or right after. I’m starving! I’m so nerved up, too.

Andy says he’ll call me tonight and that he’ll be anxious to hear about how today will go. I’m quite curious myself about what will develop. Maybe not much. I think I’m dreaming an impossible dream which is something I seem to have done all my life and probably always will. All I get are jerks. Never can attract or hang onto the decent people.

I still don’t like the idea of spending the day with Nervioso. He’s a pain in the ass.

Later…

Sure enough, Nervous’s car did break down so he got a rental car and we are now heading for New Britain so my handwriting is awfully shaky.

Later…

Well, this place I went to definitely doesn’t seem like a rip-off but it is costly! $295, but to me, it’s worth it cuz as she agreed with me if you go to a bar all you’ll get is druggies and drunks who want one-night stands and may have aids. Also, I could put an ad in the Advocate for $35 and never know what I’m getting.

I filled out a personality questionnaire and discussed my hobbies, goals and interests and what attracts me sexually. All this info will be matched up with other woman’s info, and they will give me 3 people to meet that they feel are compatible with me.

I still have my fears and doubts, though. Will I ever find the right person? Someone who’ll attract me sexually like Gloria? If they’re the right person for me will they find me attractive? Will there be too many things wrong with the person? Will I get Miss Right and lose her cuz of my past or present problems?

Time will tell if this really is the answer or not. Another fear I have is what if the 3 women I meet are all wrong for me and I have to pay an additional $295 to meet 3 more? Can I cancel my membership when and if I find the right person? Will I have to pay a renewal fee? They weren’t very clear on all this.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 7, 1988 I am now at the Laundromat.

I have a busy week. Tomorrow I see Mary Lou at 2:15. Wednesday I work for Channel 57. Thursday I go out of town to New Britain. And last but not least, Friday I see Dr. Moshiri, who I shall bitch out from head to toe.

Sometime this week I’d like to do some gift shopping for the family and also get my hair trimmed and basically just evened out.

Can’t wait till Mom calls tonight, I have lots to tell her.

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 6, 1988 Tomorrow morning I’m going to do laundry at Nervous’s rooming house. I told him to go get his breakfast while I’m doing it so he doesn’t bug me. He said ok.

Andy’s sister Marla flew in tonight from California with her 4-month-old son, so Andy was psyched.

I wonder when the hell I’ll ever move. Yes, I’ll miss people here in Springfield, but I really do want to hurry up and move so I can be near my sister and nieces. I sure hope I’m able to get a lucky break in music somehow, someway, with or without Tammy’s help.

I’ve got to get a much more positive attitude. I can’t give up my singing even if Tammy continues to think I’m hopeless or if I have a few failures. Being too negative so much is going to get me nowhere. It’s what I’ve always wanted. It’s time to be a doer, not a dreamer. It’s soon or never. I won’t settle for anything else. I love to sing and now have a voice I never thought I’d ever have.

I also really want to improve my piano, guitar and Spanish by studying more and practicing my ass off. No more being so lazy.

Nervous said he’s looking for a portable organ like Andy’s which I love to death, but it may be just too expensive and I surely don’t want to see him get evicted again. I’m dying for one, though.

I was supposed to call yesterday for an appointment today to have gotten my hair evened out but now I’ll have to wait till Tuesday. They’re closed Sundays and Mondays.

Monday night is when Ma calls. Also Monday I’ll have to call La Baron. They sent me a bill for $1,068 and I’m not paying a dime. They never should’ve let me into school without approving my application for financial aid first. I’ll also call the people I filled out the application with. They’re also responsible. She was supposed to have contacted me and it looks like I may have to take them to court and hopefully sue them for the $561 that I paid to get into Mansfield for my manicuring course. They should definitely pay me.

Also Nervous is taking me to New Britain, CT to a service for gay women to meet other gay women. I just hope his car doesn’t break down in the middle of the highway or I’ll die.

Later…

I am still wide awake. I just did some reading and before that, I played my keyboard and guitar.

I ordered Gloria’s two Spanish albums Rio and Otro Vez.

Today, if I don’t sleep all day, I’m gonna do laundry, but if I do I can always do it later on tonight.

I called Fran’s old foster father and left a message for him to call me. I haven’t seen him in ages. Why is it that he only comes to visit once in a lifetime? Last time was when he bought the TV from me.

Rather than go to Johnson’s maybe I should go to McRory’s in the Eastfield Mall across from my mom’s store. It’s bigger, better and much cheaper and they have everything. I’m almost positive I’d find some really nice things there for the kids and some nice things for everyone else.

Sometimes I wonder if I should call about getting my vaginismus cured cuz it would make me happy and maybe it’s just a waste of time being gay, even if it’s not a choice.

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 5, 1988 I’m cooking a piece of lamb. Actually, before that, I just walked in. I had been out with Andy.

I slept all day today and never got my laundry done. Never called Channel 57 or mailed this letter I wrote to someone, but Nervous is mailing it. He was over earlier and we had a nice chat.

Before 6:00 Cecelia came over. We had a nice chat too in ASL and I did tell her I was moving. She said hopefully she could come to visit me.

Anna next door woke me up at 2:00 this afternoon to ask me about a phone call she got very early this morning from some girl who knew her name was Anna, and I guess used my name, by asking her if she knew me, but Anna hung up saying, “I don’t know who you are.”

I know nothing about it, I told her.

I spoke to Nervous today who may know of someone to take Sasha. Also, I spoke to Andy who should be calling any second.

Earlier I fell asleep and dreamt that my mother sent me puppies in the mail. Weird, huh?

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 2, 1988 The stupid males in court today want desperately to waste my time and so this case is being brought before a jury of 6 and then possibly to trial. Either way, I’m sure it’ll be dismissed and by the time the final court date comes up I’ll be moved and they can have a default warrant out for me for the rest of my life, cuz what are my chances of being picked up if I were to come to Springfield for a day or two? None. And how many cops know me by face and name? Maybe 3 cops, and it’s very unlikely that we’ll run into each other.

Today I also confronted Pig Corcoran, or whatever the fuck his name really is, with the sexually harassing phone calls I got and asked him if he knew anything about it and he said no and that he wouldn’t do that. Yeah, sure. Quite a coincidence don’t you think? I know it was him or somebody he put up to it.

I called that gay dating service for women, and according to them, their nearest offices are either Framingham, MA or Great Britain, CT. No way to get there by bus or by anyone else. Tammy says they’re a total rip-off. She said she went through a Jewish dating service to find Bill cuz she wanted her children raised as Jews. But to me what you are is what you are, and I don’t believe in that or religion. People are people are people.

Tammy said to place an ad in the personals section of the Advocate but to get a PO box address. I may someday if nothing else works.

Guess what? This will come as a surprise to you as it did to me but I called Maria at work explaining that I knew and realized that I did wrong, and wanted her to understand and to feel free to confront me with any problems rather than to be scared and run away, and that once the problem is discussed, I would never make the same mistake again. I try not to anyway. So she said it was that I was too forward and scared her away and I then explained to her that when you’re alone so much and you get an opportunity to talk, you talk. I said that maybe I threw up my past in her face out of fear and that rather than be too shy I was trying to make friendly conversation for our first visit, and I also didn’t want to seem rude by ignoring her questions. She did seem to understand fully and mentioned my trusting her enough the first time we met to take her home with me and I said that I learned to tell the good ones from the bad ones and told her about Mary D, who attempted to attack me for prank calling her. She said that was awful and seemed to understand why I crawled into this little shell.

The sicko (Mary) came over for her record and started trashing the place before she turned on me, knocked me down, then ran.

I also told her what I heard about Bev and that I heard she wanted Bev, and she denied it saying her lips were sealed and she wouldn’t repeat any of it to Bev. I told this to Andy who got pissed at me fearing there was a good 98% chance that Maria would definitely go to Bev and that Bev would go to Andy all pissed off. I did not realize at the time that what I said could be harmful but to me, it is a test of trust and honesty.

Maria told me that she doesn’t have many friends herself and sometimes needs someone to talk to and would like to go to the movies or the mall and that when I called her at work upset about the barrette she was about to apologize and explain why she couldn’t come over, but I didn’t give her a chance and hung up, assuming she didn’t care, and I explained she was right cuz of past experience.

Andy, however, does believe that she wants Bev and that she put a hickey on Bev’s neck, though Maria denied it, saying she didn’t know Bev well, didn’t see much of her and has only known her for 6 months. Well, time will tell whether she’s a liar or she is honest.

The thing she did that really shocked me the most was give me her phone number. I told her I was so sorry for calling her at work, her place of business and she said not to worry about it at all and that if I had a problem to call her at work or home. She told me she usually gets home after 6 PM on weekdays. I certainly am not going to bug her or burden her in any way but in the long run, I still believe this will never be a sexual relationship and that she is still young and unaware of her sexuality. Bev, boyfriend, or not, she just wants to be strictly friends and that’s ok. Better than nothing.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 1, 1988 I’ve been up all night cuz I was afraid to go to sleep and not hear the alarm in time to go to court today for the little macho bully male pig.

I slept all night yesterday plus all day due to that fucking medication the shrink gave me.

I’m reading a book about people with sexual dysfunctions who go into therapy and use sex surrogates to cure their problems and I have decided to seek help for the problem I have where it’s too painful for a male to penetrate me which I read is called vaginismus caused by an obstruction or the walls of the vagina involuntarily tightening. I believe it would make me happier to solve the problem, and yes, I do sometimes wish I were straight and could marry a great guy and have a baby but it all goes back to my not being attracted to men. Yet I’d probably get an ugly female and I still believe that male or female I’d only get an asshole, and 98% of the males are assholes, so it’s mostly women that have assholes or are going to get them, not just me.

I know they don’t use sex surrogates here in Springfield. Most places don’t cuz they consider it prostitution, although I think in some cases, such as mine, it’s very helpful. I hope they can help me by just talking to me, but if I’m stupid enough to fall for a male, what if they rape me or beat me or steal from me or are like Ron, Nervous or Al? That’s all I get. What if I got another woman like Mary? I’ll never get a woman like Gloria. Never.

But I also decided that today I just might call that dating service for gay women called Woman To Woman. I hope I can afford it and if they give me a decent woman and I lose her or they give me a jerk, I want my money back.

[croissantbae]

October 16, 2023

The past few weeks have felt like a whirlwind. While I’ve been on my phone constantly the past few weeks it was almost exclusively to take photos and communicate immediately with folks to coordinate meetups. I barely looked at insta or my emails. It was seriously wonderful. Today I went through my photo album of the past few weeks and it doesn’t feel like there are enough photos. I legit feel like there should be more based on how full the trip felt.

I’m not even going to attempt to summarize the trip. I’ll just jot down a few thoughts.

1. Even though we were with the kids 24/7 and they were driving us crazy at times, now that I have to leave them I feel really sad and I miss them so much. I really do just love our family. Same goes for extended family too. After my mom/bro/sil/Shiloh departed, it felt like we weren’t whole without them. We could feel the lack of their presence. My mom is also seriously so clutch. She came to our house before we landed, made bap and miyukgook, and then picked us up from the airport. The miyukgook sVed our lives. We ate it for dinner and then as a post sleep meal when the girls were up in the wee hours of the morning. And then for breakfast the next day lol. She’s also coming tomorrow to take the girls to school because Jason has an important meeting. I would want to pay it forward for our kids but I’m generally assuming they won’t have kids (bc of climate change).

2. Adjusting to time zone changes is a bitch. The kids were waking up super early and sleeping very little when we went. And adults got virtually no sleep in the plane ride over. The girls slept fairly well but they were really squished lying next to each other on the seats. I actually got sick on the second day in and I think it was mostly from extreme sleep exhaustion (because we were already deprived from the sleep training saga and nerves not being able to sleep from starting a new job). It felt pretty miserable those first few days but thankfully the whole fam was there to watch the kids so I could get some rest. Now coming back we’re also getting terrible sleep and the kids have been awake anywhere from 11 to 4 am but I actually feel like I’m still sleeping better this time around. Today the girls slept in until noon and then I took them to school at around 2 just so they could play for a few hours. Hopefully they wake up earlier tomorrow and can actually go to school on a relatively normal schedule. Godspeed to my mom.

3. My grandma is so old. Like seriously. She was sooo happy to see us she was trying her best to keep up with us. She was actually walking so fast I was shocked. But she said she didnt care if she died she was going to walk as fast as she could so she could hang with us and not be seen as a burden. I could tell she really enjoyed herself and she bonded a lot with Dani. Jason’s grandma is much older than my grandma (I think by 10 years) but she’s still soooo healthy. She walks with a cane now but I love how social she is. We told her we’d come by to hang out the next day but she said she couldn’t because she was busy with her friends 😂. When we hung out w Jason’s family they took us to their local gogi jib (one we went to years ago too) and wansun Emo made me drink w her so I drank a bottle of soju and she drank a bottle of makgeoli lol. It was a lot of fun and the girls were thankfully well behaved.

4. Overall the kids really seemed to love Korea and want to go back. I fell in love with jejudo and seriously want to go back to the same hotel. But if we did go I wonder if it would be nearly as magical without the whole friend group there 🧐. I suspect not but there’s a different kind of fun just being with family too.

[erin-bo-berin]

I hope you’re getting the treatments and services you deserve. You’re an incredibly kind person and I hope you make it past that agoraphobia. That’s a really hard disorder to live with. I have terrible generalised anxiety disorder and I’ve been medicated for years now, but it did help. Didn’t mKs it go away, but I went through phases where I couldn’t work too. Honestly, keep trying and keep getting the services and help you need. Even stepping outside once in a year is amazing process! Is it similar to Sheila on Shameless for you?

Thank you so much 😭💕

I’ve accepted that it’s an illness I will live with the rest of my life—the anxiety, that is—but I refuse to suffer with agoraphobia and even the quite frequent panic attacks for the rest of my life. Those are easier to treat and learn how to get rid of rather than get totally rid of anxiety.

Also, I’m not too familiar with Shameless as I’ve never watched it, but I did Google her to read and see lol from the sounds of it, it sounds like she’s just scared of the outside world and doesn’t even physically leave the house. For me, it’s just the fear of having panic attacks when going out in public because not only is it uncomfortable and miserable, it ruins any fun I have going out and fighting through panic attacks ends up leaving me exhausted physically, mentally and emotionally. Back when I went to therapy and had to work my way through them just to get to therapy, I’d end up coming home and take 2-3 hour naps because I was so exhausted afterwards.

Anyway, back to the subject, I can actually step outside, like I often go get the mail, paper, take trash cans out and back in, I just don’t go out in public.

[en-hale-archives]

Me with You ~~

pairing ⑅ bestfriend!Jake x fem!reader

genre ⑅ friends to lovers, fluff, slow dancing, suggestive/smut

words/read time ⑅ 3.9k/12-19 mins

warnings ⑅ 18+ content, light cussing

synopsis ⑅ Jake is back in his hometown to spend time with his closest friend. During some fun and frivolous dancing, things start to heat up...

author's note ⑅ I’m really proud of how this story turned out. I'm not a huge fan of second person, so I wrote in first, but if anyone asks, I can copy and post again in second person. It's more fluff than anything, but it does get a bit steamier towards the end, so I’m just going to go ahead and put a warning.

————✧————

When the back door finally slammed shut and the cacophony of barks faded down the street, I could finally let out my sigh of relief that I had been holding in since this morning. I tapped on my phone. How many days had we been watching Mrs. Chen’s pets? And just how was I able to put up with hours of barking, the smell of fresh turd lying across the lawn, and dog walks till dark? Including their rigorous feeding times and bathroom breaks -- I’m surprised I haven’t exploded yet.

I had so much planned the minute they left my house, but instead, the sudden silence felt all too relaxing and I laid my head against the cold countertop. I could finally stop stressing, stop thinking, and stop worrying about reprimanding for chewing on my shoes or peeing in the house or the continued barking that never ended. I was free. I felt like I could’ve stayed laid on the countertop forever, drowning in the evening sun. Who knew watching five dogs would take such a burden out of a person. Jake and I had taken on the job of dog sitting for Mrs. Chen while she visited some family in Tokyo. We both switched off every other day; some of the dogs at my house and the others at his; until we realized it would be easier if he just spent the few days at my house as we co-doggy sat. He got up bright and early to take them on their walks while I prepared their highly detailed and specific meals. Then from there, we spent the rest of the day making sure they didn’t run off somewhere or cause too much destruction in the house. But alas, Mrs. Chen came back early from her getaway and picked up Toby, Caleb, Khao, Sofia, and Pickle on her way home. Although I was exhausted from watching 3-foot dogs all day, the pay was amazing for me, and it would help tremendously for all the online classes I was going to be taking next semester.

The warmth of the sun cast a comforting trance over my heavy eyelids, and soon enough I was fast asleep, standing in the middle of the kitchen with the soft sound of nothing surrounding me.

By the time I had fluttered my eyes open, I had realized I was now seated in my dining chair and a large black jacket was placed over my shoulders. I sat up and let out a yawn, wincing at the bright light coming from the tv and shaking my now numb arm awake. I must have been sleeping for a while because the evening sun had turned to pitch of black. The moonlight beamed through the window and danced along with the sways of the large oak tree out front. I stood up and walked over to the refrigerator in which I grabbed two water bottles and some leftover pasta.

I was sure that Jake hadn’t eaten since lunch, seeing as he only ate if someone sat food in front of his face. I dragged my feet up the stairs until I heard the slamming of a book and the fast typing of a keyboard come from the living room. I turned and looked behind me. Jake had settled his things on the coffee table and floor, large books, folders, and several amounts of crumpled up pieces of paper found their way around Jake, himself slouched up against the edge of the couch. He had changed clothes since the last time I had seen him, he now wore a plain blue shirt with grey sweats, his eyebrows furrowed as he worked hard on whatever he was getting at.

“Oh yes, I was starving!” Propping himself up on the couch, he took the plate of pasta. I placed the waters on the coffee table and settled comfortably on the couch beside him.

“I can’t say that I’ve ever seen anybody sleep standing up before. Look,” Jake took his phone off the charger. “I got a picture.” He pushed the screen in my face, and of course, there was my unconscious body laying on the counter, mouth open and all. I playfully pushed it back his way as his face lit up with a smile I was all too familiar with.

“What are you doing down here so late, it’s almost 12 in the morning,” I asked. Jake’s smile disappeared when he was reminded of the work he had been doing seconds before.

He let out a large huff of air. “Trying to get some words on paper but instead it turned into a paper massacre,” he jokingly replied, “sorry for the mess.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I replied, taking a swig of water. I was going to ask if he wanted to watch a late-night movie, or pull an all-nighter and talk endlessly until the sun rose, but I could tell by each passing second that Jake was worried about this, and he wanted the time he had now over the summer to work on his music. I wished I was motivated to work on my own music, but unlike Jake, I wasn’t in a globally popular boy band. My complicated best friend for over 10 years had been working his butt off since middle school. It was his annual time to sit back and relax while he had the time to, but instead, he chose to use that time to help watch a bunch of dogs with his hometown bestie. God, I loved him.

Jake pulled himself off the couch and right back onto the floor, leaving the rest of the pasta to me. He picked up his pen again and started scribbling down words as quickly as he could, trying hard not to forget the lyrics that had floated into his head. Until he stopped, closing his eyes for just a split second, and let out a powerful sigh. Crumpling up the sheet, he stacks it on top of the others in frustration and started frantically tapping his pencil against the table.

“Maybe it’s best to just try again in the morning,” I advised, taking a small bite of the pasta that was left by my side.

“How come I’m having such a hard time with this?” He gazed up at me frantically for a clue, as if I had the answer to fix a problem as big and as important as his was. I looked at his doleful eyes and the bags that were starting to grow underneath them. I couldn’t help but think, because I made you sit up and watch a bunch of dogs with me.

“Do you want me to see if I could come up with something?”

“If you want. But, hold on, I think my thoughts are coming back up.” He quickly grabbed another piece of paper, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

I tried my best to keep occupied by watching videos on my phone, but I found myself suddenly bored out of my mind. I laid out on my back and picked up one of Jake’s folders. Briefly looking through it, I couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous at the amount of fan art and letters, praising him and the other members. Followed with that were just more and more engene stuff, full of nothing but kind words and heartfelt messages. Part of me wished that I was able to travel with Jake and see the world like he was. How fun would it be to meet people that praised you? And how cool would it be to see that you had fans? I couldn’t help but plaster on a huge smile as I skimmed through some of the notes until I finally came to one with familiar handwriting.

Remember Me were the words written on the top of the paper in bold and bright colors. But the message written underneath is what caught my attention:

To the person that makes me the luckiest guy in the world, this song is for you. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same, but please just remember me -- it was Jake’s handwriting.

I didn’t feel like I was breaking any crime reading his stuff until this moment, but curiosity killed the cat, and right now I didn’t mind being a feline. I checked to make sure Jake was still busy, and he was, almost like he had teleported into his own world. I quietly turned back to the sheet and started reading. It was about a girl, presumably his crush I’m sure. She was someone important to him, someone who made him love so much that it hurt. But this was far from a happy song, in fact, it was terribly heartbreaking. She didn’t understand his love, she wasn’t able to interpret it like he wanted her to. But he confesses that he was scared of what telling her would do, worried that she wouldn’t feel the same. So instead, it was like he was apologizing, and asking that she forgive him for not being brave enough to tell her, and if he did ever get the courage to, for her to remember him even if she wasn’t able to love him like he wanted her to.

The song ends like how the title began, and I find myself flabbergasted at the beautiful mixes of rhymes and metaphors that read like a poem. This was the first of Jake’s songs that made me feel this way, like I had just finished watching a tragedy movie with Ryan Renolds starring. I blink back the tears that I didn’t realize were forming. How come he never told me this? We never kept secrets from each other, like ever. It never mattered the subject or the severity, we had always promised that we would be open and honest with each other. I wish I would’ve known this sooner, maybe I could’ve saved him from feeling this way. And what girl could it possibly be? I knew for sure I was the only girl he was presumably close to; but was there someone else?

I glanced down at Jake, who was still in a focused state of mind with the pencil in his mouth and mumbling lyrics softly under his breath. I tried picturing my bubbly Jake writing these agonizing words and miserably failed.

Jake looked up at me as if he could feel my gaze on the back of his head. “I think I’ve found the chorus, but it’s the rest of the song I’m not able to get, and how come it’s so hard to find another word that rhymes with severe? Beer? Sphere? Revere? Appear? Gosh, rhyming sucks some serious ass!”

“This song is beautiful.”

Jake furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “Huh?”

“This song I found in your folder.” I glanced back at it in my hand. “Remember Me.”

Jake’s gaze leaped from my eyes to the sheet, and I felt his body tense. “Where’d you get that from?”

“I was just going through one of your folders. Did you accidentally get it mixed up in your fan folder? Cause this is -”

“Did you read it?” He interrupted.

“Yeah, and it’s perfect.”

Jake glanced at me for a split second before turning back around, obviously uncomfortable. “I was watching one of those Kdramas you love so much and it inspired me. Could you help me rhyme with severe now?”

I knew Jake like the back of my hand, so I knew continuing on with this conversation would get him upset if he’s clearly avoiding it. But, I wasn’t going to just let him off that quickly. “Jake, come on, you can tell me anything. Who is this about?”

Jake looked back at me with a hint of something in his eyes, something I’ve never seen before, and something I wasn't able to decipher. “Nobody, I was just feeling really inspired, that's it.” His tone had switched from calm to agitated.

I give him my I’m-not-stupid look and he comes back with his own you’re-being-delusional stare. “It’s seriously nobody, truthfully and honestly.”

“Okay, okay I’ll back off.” I could tell he was starting to get defensive, and when he got like that, it took him at least a few hours before returning to normal. I watched Jake's Adam's apple move up and down, a way in which I could tell he knew I was not convinced in the slightest. “Well, sometimes we go through things that can remind us of situations like that, but not necessarily in that same exact context, you know? It has to be amplified for that audience appeal.”

“Okay...but have you ever felt this way before? Not exactly like how it’s written, but maybe somewhere along these lines?”

I thought I was going to get another vague answer, or worse, an aggravated one. But instead Jake looked down at his pencil as he tapped it along his wrist. “...maybe, but I think everyone can connect to the words in some way. I mean, everyone feels some kind of heartbreak in their life, right?” Jake's answer was still pretty vague, but at least I was able to get something out of him.

“Okay, but you know you can tell me anything, like, anything ever because you know that you’ll never actually have to feel this way, right?” I said, maybe too much in a hurry.

“Of course I know that.” He replied, giving one of his awkward grins.

“And if anyone has made you feel this way, then you know you can tell me that too cause there a sucker to lose out on a perfect person like you.” I teased in a sing-song way, poking his shoulder hard. Jake chuckled and poked me back.

A weird silence grew in the room, and Jake went back to trying to find rhyming words. I tried getting back on my phone, but I knew I needed to say something to let go of the tenseness in the air.

“Hey, crystal clear rhymes!”

He leaned his head back and looked up at me. “Nevermind, I give up for tonight.”

I could see the stress that played on his face. “Don’t worry, you’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah, but by the time I do, it’ll be too late.”

“What do you mean?”

Jake pulled his knees up to his chest and spoke. “This was going to go on our album comeback that needs to be finished in the next four months. By the time I think of something, it'll be too late and I’ll have to wait until the next four months. But by then, I'll have forgotten. This always happens and I have no idea how the hell to fix it.” I couldn’t tell if he wanted my help or just a bit of comfort.

“Did you try asking the other guys to see if they had any ideas?”

“Yeah, but they’re working on their own parts, I can’t ask them to do this too.”

“I’m sure they’d be willing to help if you asked,” I assured him.

“I know they would, but I just don’t want to. I always ask them for help, I thought being away from the studio and being back home would help my brainstorming abilities.” He gave a weary chuckle that almost sounded like a groan.

“Well, maybe tomorrow will come with better results.” I did my best to give him some motivation, but I could tell I was failing miserably at that too.

Jake watched as a car zoomed past the window, a low bass sounding off as it zoomed away. “I bet it’s easier to just listen to music than to try and come up with it. I remember when I would just blare NCT all day long and jam out in my room. It seemed so much easier back then to come up with stuff than it does now. I miss it.” He took a slight pause before continuing. “ Did you know that song you read was the easiest thing I have written in my life? I remember writing too. I just had this super weird feeling in my chest one day so I basically locked myself in my room and took maybe two hours and just wrote a bunch of words down and connected them to sound like a song. For once my mind had just gone blank and I couldn’t stop thinking and feeling that song, like I knew what it was supposed to sound like, I knew what the lyrics were supposed to mean. I just knew everything. And I miss that feeling, that feeling of like- '' He broke off his sentence when he looked back up to my eyes. It seemed like he was talking more to himself than to me. He swallowed hard and looked back at the pencil still in hand.

“Well, I'm sorry you don’t feel free anymore. I wish there was something I could do to make you feel like that again-”

“No, please don’t feel like that. It’s just something that had just recently started happening, something I really just can’t fix…” His voice gets softer and softer the more he spoke.

“Have you spoken to your manager about it?” I asked. “He’s super nice from what I understand. And he’ll probably have better answers than your friend who can barely play the piano, let alone produce an entire song.”

Jake laughed before I had the chance to. “ See, now you're underestimating yourself. Remember that song from freshman year? The one about-- what was his name, Josh?” Jake teased. I grabbed a pillow and slammed it into the back of his head. “Oh my gosh, I thought we promised we’d never bring it up again!”

Jake chuckled and laid his arm on the couch completely turning towards me. “How about we sneak out and go get ice cream and try to not wake up your mom in the process?”

I suddenly jumped to my feet when I have the perfect idea on how to cheer up the gloomy Mr. Shim. “Or, we could do something even better!”

“Urgh!” Jake groaned.

I grabbed my phone and hooked it up to the speaker. I was going to turn on his hit song Drunk-Dazed as a joke, but Jake needed this break from his career, so instead, I crunk up Beyonce as loud as it could go without disturbing my mom who slept upstairs. I turn back to Jake and reach out for his hands, already moving my hips to the music.

He shook his head and threw it back onto the couch as if throwing a temper tantrum. “I literally dance for a living.”

“Okay but this will be different, I promise.” I grabbed the piles of papers on the ground and threw them in the trash, I then pushed the coffee table near the wall and piled his folders and books neatly on top.

“Come on, cowboy!” I grabbed his hands and helped him up. He was reluctant to get up, but he threw one last groan before standing on his feet.

“This will get the brain juices flowing again!” I told him. I go back to my phone and switch it to one of my favorite Beyonce songs that she covered, At Last.

I sang dramatically to get Jake to smile, and luckily, it worked. I placed both my hands over his shoulders and swayed us back and forth, still miming the song as overly exaggerated as I could. Jake still couldn’t help but smile, and it didn’t take him long to join me in the rhythm and sway naturally with me. I learned at our middle school dance that Jake had perfect rhythm. He was able to impress the rest of the crowd when he busted out moves from BTS. Everyone was impressed, including me.

Now we were on a steady roll. I accidentally stepped on his feet a few times, but it was fine seeing as I was wearing foam flip-flops and he was barefooted. After a while, the song switched and played another of my favorites that didn’t match our style of dance, but we still moved slowly to the beat. Jake tried twirling me, but since I have two left feet, I almost ended up hitting the wall each time and Jake laughed loud at my clumsiness. The moonlight from the kitchen had now switched to the window in the living room. It gleamed through and glistened on Jake like a spotlight, just like the ones on the stage did for him. In a split second, I was reminded that he wouldn’t be here forever, just like he wasn’t here for the past year. I tried to not let it settle on my face that I was scared to see him go again, so I played up on the fun we were having now. Jake looked like he was at ease; finally, since he’d been here, he looked genuinely happy and I wasn’t going to ruin that.

After another handful of songs full of laughs and giggles, we were soon sweating and taking deeper breaths than normal. Each song was different from the one before, but it didn’t stop us from sticking to our style of dance. Even with the simplicity of the moves and the slowness of the steps, I had to take a minute to relax. I hooked my arms around his neck and rested my entire body on his. I could feel Jake’s own sweat seeping through his shirt, But I didn’t mind the wetness that was now attached to my cheek. I thought he would act awkward and ask for me to pull away, but instead, he gripped tighter on my hips and started slowly moving me side to side. I let out a long overdue sigh, trying my best to match the steady breathing of Jake’s with my own. It was actually therapeutic: hearing his heartbeat in one ear and the softness of the music in the other.

I tried to continue our steady breathing together, but his had picked up a bit, almost out of nowhere. I felt the heat of his breath on the nape of my neck, and it made my entire body tingle in a way it never had before. After this sudden feeling, I realized just how close we really were. His leg hair tickled my legs, I could feel the bone of his foot connecting to mine, I could feel his thin waist against mine as well. I felt like I needed to back up, but instead, I couldn’t and continued to sway softly against him. A few seconds later, Jake’s hands rose a little higher, planting themselves on my waist and tightening their grip as if they were trying to pull me closer than we already were.

The sensation hadn’t stopped though, it clung to my body like my damp shorts did on my thighs. Sooner or later I felt pressure on the lower part of my stomach and thought for sure that Jake was messing around and wasn’t feeling what I was, which indicated that I needed to pull back before this feeling became too much.

This is so embarrassing. I thought. How could I let myself feel like this? How was this in any way okay? I finally pulled back, the sensation becoming too unbearable, and glanced up at his face. His pupils were large in a way I hadn’t seen before. His mouth was slightly open and a drop of sweat slowly traced down his forehead, onto his nose. That pressure I was feeling on my stomach had now doubled in force, and Jake's face had switched from calm and subtle, to alarmed and panicked...

————✧————

(part 2 possibly...?)

Thank you guys so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! Please, leave any constructive criticism you have on helping improve my writing!

————✧————

None of the images are mine, They all belong to their rightful owners :)

[eternally-writing]

helping hands | jjk

genre: fluff and angst

rating: G (no swearing or sexual content)

pairing: Jungkook x reader

theme: parent!au, idol!au, husband!au, one-shot

word count: 3k

warnings: none

synopsis: Parenting in general? Hard. Parenting while your husband Jungkook is away on tour? Extra hard.

special thank you to @justasparkwritings for beta reading this and @moccahobi for helping me with the title!

banner by me!

--♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡--

It had been 2 weeks since Jungkook had left on tour. You would think that after being in the industry for 10 years he would have a little more leniency with his schedule, but even after the birth of your little girl, Jungkook couldn’t seem to get out of a 3 week tour around Japan and Korea.

It seemed like the Earth was weeping with you today as the rain battered against your window while you made what seemed like your 15th cup of coffee for the day. Your daughter Gidae was for once not crying - and you were eternally grateful since it gave you time to change out of your puke-covered shirt and close your eyes for 5 seconds... as if that was any replacement for the lack of sleep you’ve encountered.

All your friends whose husbands were busy idols or businessmen gave you the advice that “everything falls into place over time when you’re parenting on your own”. That it just magically happened. You’re not sure what memo you missed, or if there’s some book you forgot to read, or if worst of all, you lacked some parental intuition that everyone else possessed. Jungkook had left 13 days ago, and nothing had fallen into place.

Between Gidae being up all night every night, the pile of puke covered laundry sitting in a pile in the corner of your room, the dirty dishes in the sink that had accumulated to the point that you were eating your microwave meals with plastic cutlery, you definitely felt like a failure.

And probably the worst part of it all was that Jungkook wasn’t here to help you. This wasn’t the first time Jungkook left on tour while you two have been together, but it was the first time he had left you since Gidae had been born. The first time he had left you, a first time mother, alone with your child for an extended period of time. The first time you needed help and couldn’t ask him for it.

As if on command, while you were bracing yourself on the counter in exhaustion, your phone began to ring.

Incoming call: hubby kook ♡

As you pressed “accept call”, you could immediately heard the hustle and bustle of the backstage crowd. Too tired to be the first to say hello, you waited to see how long it would take for him to realize you were on the other line.

“Hey Y/N, just checking in before the show! How are things?” cheered Jungkook.

You could imagine what Jungkook looked like as he talked to you: already dressed in his first stage outfit, a makeup artist blotting away at the nervous sweat on his forehead, him grinning ear to ear with his hyungs and bursting with excitement for performing.

On a normal day, if you had maybe actually gotten some sleep or eaten at least one meal that didn’t come out of your freezer in the past week, you probably could have mustered a convincing “good! How’s the show going?” But you were on your last straw, and it was already giving way.

“Bad Jungkook. It’s bad. I haven’t slept at all for as long as I can remember. I have no clean clothes or clean dishes, I haven’t showered since you left so I smell like a pungent mixture of puke, sweat, and god knows what else, and Gidae misses you and won’t stop crying.So yes, it’s horrible without you here.”

You knew that wasn’t what Jungkook expected to hear,the sharp intake of breath on his side serving as a telltale sign you had caught him off guard.

“Baby I-, I’m sorry, I had no idea.”

You couldn’t stop your voice from cracking as you continued. Your chest was tightening, feelings bubbling over.

“It’s -“ you paused to take a breath. “It’s really hard without you Jungkook. Really really hard.”

Jungkook tried his best to piece together the words over the phone, but you could already hear the speakers in the background calling for Jungkook to head to his position for the start of the show.

“Y/N I-“

“You have to go Jungkook, I know. Bye.”

You didn’t give him a second to recuperate as you ended the call.

No parenting book ever provided you with advice on this. The loneliness, helplessness, and frustration you were feeling right now. Crumpling down to the kitchen floor, you felt like the world was collapsing around you as you sobbed.

As if on cue, Gidae’s cries joined yours from the other room.

--♡--

You woke up slouched in a rocking chair in the nursery, with your hand reaching down to touch your daughter’s in her crib. She seemed to show you some leniency by sleeping more than 2 hours at a time, but unsure of how much free time she’d give you, you figured you might as well get a head start of the day since you felt like you were miserably falling behind already.

While mixing some formula in your kitchen, you heard a knock on your front door. The only people who ever came over were the boys and a couple of your friends, and you definitely weren’t expecting any visitors at 8am.

Frying pan clutched in your hand (safety first, right?), you creaked open your door to see a small woman standing in front of you.

With a cheery smile painting her face, the lady began to speak.

“Mrs. Jeon, I’m Seokjin-ssi’s nanny. I’ve been sent here today to take care of Gidae. Here’s a note from Mr. Jeon.”

You couldn’t help the smile that decorated your face after reading it. After so many years together, Jungkook still managed to surprise you. Taking in that there was now a woman in your house who was basically Supernanny here to help you, you couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief.

When Jungkook said that you were going to be pampered today, he sure meant it. By a “car” being outside, he actually meant a glorious Porsche with a driver and all your favorite snacks tucked in the backseat. He had booked an entire spa day just for you to get whatever treatments you needed without having to deal with the hustle and bustle of anyone else being around. Simply being in an environment that didn’t always sound like crying and children’s TV shows felt like heaven. A schedule had been waiting when you arrived, including a built in “nap” (multiple hours is just sleep, right?) in one of their private suits and lunch with none other than your best friend. It was the best surprise, and the girl talk you shared was exactly what you needed. Of course the mom guilt crept in, but whenever it did you reminded yourself of Jungkook’s words - you needed this, and only once you take care of yourself will you really be able to take care of your daughter.

You weren’t sure if it was because of the hydrating face mask or the 3 hours of uninterrupted sleep that you were able to get, but you walked into your house with a new pep in your step thanks to the relaxing day that Jungkook planned for you.

Welcomed by Ms. Yeong wearing an apron and bustling around your kitchen, you smelled freshly baked cookies (chocolate chip, your favorite too) and were thrilled at the sight of a clean house in front of you.

Wiping her hands on her apron, she began to speak with that signature smile.

“I’ve cooked dinner for you tonight and also have meals for the next 3 days in the fridge. The dishes are all done and your laundry should all be folded in your drawers. Gidae just had some milk and is now watching some Cocomelon.She woke up from her nap around 3 hours ago.”

In your excitement you couldn’t help giving her the biggest hug, squeezing her tightly. Slowly, Ms.Yeong began to pat your back, unclear about whether this hug was really for you or for her.

“I’m just doing my job Mrs. Jeon.”

You pulled away to look sincerely into her eyes.

“You are seriously a lifesaver Ms.Yeong, I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

After patting your back again, it was her turn to be sincere.

“You’re a good mother, Mrs. Jeon. I know it may not feel like it sometimes, but you really are. Gidae is lucky to have you as a mom.”

Tears began to prick at your eyes, but unlike yesterday, these were happy tears. With all the failures that you had felt in the past two weeks, it meant everything to hear those words from someone, to get some confirmation that you weren’t completely messing things up.

Unable to make any words come out of your mouth, all you could do was nod in appreciation at what she was able to do for you today. Your eyes glimmering with unshed tears said all the words that Ms.Yeong needed to hear.

As she walked out the door, you made a mental note to message Seokjin and thank him for finding the angel on Earth who saved you today.

--♡--

Picking up your daughter from her crib, you cooed and brought her to you. Settling into your rocking chair, you cradled her gently in her arms.

“Mommy missed you today, babygirl, and I know you miss daddy.”

At the mention of the word “daddy” you could see your daughter perk up, looking around and trying to find said male.

All you could do is kiss her forehead. “I miss your daddy too. He’s really amazing, yknow.”

“Amazing, really? I may have said handsome, or sexy, or...”

Your head whipped around to the source of the sound.

And there he was, in the flesh. Jeon Jungkook, the man you had been waiting to see for days on end, was standing right at the door.

“Hi my love,” he said with his silly grin.

Your heart felt like it was bursting as you saw him there, and you couldn’t help but start sobbing your heart out (and I mean ugly sobbing). You felt a waterfall of emotions seeing Jungkook so close.

“Hey hey hey, what’s with this crying? I came home because I didn’t want you to be crying anymore baby.”

Walking over to you, he crouched in front of your chair and started to wipe your tears. Cupping your face in his hands, he pressed his forehead against you.

“I missed you Y/N. I missed you so much.”

You were still reeling from Jungkook’s presence.

“You have no idea how much I’ve dreamed about this Kook. I feel like I’m dreaming.”

Jungkook pressed a short kiss on your lips.

“Well believe it, I’m here for real babe,” he said sentimentally as he peppered your face with kisses.

Picking your daughter out of your grasp, Jungkook lifted Gidae into his hold, lifting her slightly into the air first to make her giggle. Putting on his best stern dad voice, he began his lecture.

“And you little miss, what is this I hear about you causing trouble for your mom?” Questioned Jungkook.

You smiled through your tears as you watched Jungkook go into “dad mode”.

“Before I left you promised you’d be a good girl, but I think good girls don’t cry all through the night and they definitely don’t make a mess with their toys or throw up all over their mommy.”

As Jungkook raised an eyebrow, your daughter looked at him, slightly apologetic, eyes shifting down to the floor, as if she could understand a word of what he said.

“But most of all Gidae, I missed you a whole lot. Your daddy missed you a whole lot.”

You felt like your heart could burst at the way Jungkook looked at your daughter. Even though he might be miles away when he works, you know that he doesn’t love you or your daughter any less.

“I’ll let you put her back to bed, daddy. It is my day off after all, right?” You joked with a chuckle.

Picking up your hand and kissing your palm, Jungkook grinned in agreement.

“Of course my love, go wash up and I’ll see you in bed.”

--♡--

After reading A Very Hungry Caterpillar, The Princess & the Pea, and Rainbow Fish, Gidae was beginning to yawn in Jungkook’s arms. It seemed that it wasn’t just Jungkook who was reluctant to let their father-daughter time come to an end, as Gidae was still fighting to keep her eyes open, and always kept one tiny fist clutched onto the middle of Jungkook’s shirt, as if she was worried he could disappear at any moment.

Wondering what was taking them so long, you peeked your head back in the doorway to watch Jungkook look at your daughter like she was the one who put the stars in the sky. Not wanting to interrupt, you stayed as silent as possible as you watched them together.

“Now I’m gonna say something very important Gidae, and you need to listen very very carefully to me.”

Bringing her up to eye level, Jungkook looked at your daughter sincerely as he continued.

“Sometimes daddy isn’t here and it’s just you and mommy, but I want you to know that daddy loves you and mommy so much, and you’re always gonna be daddy’s little girl, even if I’m not here with you. And I miss you always, so so much. Daddy loves you.”

You could see the tears start to stream down Jungkook’s face, and as much as you wanted to run to him and wipe his tears, just as he did hours earlier, you knew that this moment wasn’t for you. This was for Jungkook and Gidae, and you were sure that he was going to remember this forever.

“You know what would make me so happy Gidae? If you could say the word daddy. Come on - “da” “da”. You can do it!”

He started to bounce her on his lap, exaggerating his mouth movements so much that you were worried that he would accidentally pop his jaw out. His ministrations continued on fruitlessly, with Gidae still staring at him with big doe eyes (a trait she inherited from Jungkook, of course).

Unable to hide your presence any longer, you had to help Jungkook out. “You were only gone for 2 weeks, Kook. She’s still only 6 months old, it’s going to be a little while before she says any words.”

Jungkook shook his head in disbelief. It seemed that Gidae had finally succumbed to sleep in his arms, and he stared down at her again.

“Look at how big she is Y/N, she’s grown so much just in the little while I’ve been gone.”

He looked at you with tears shimmering in his doe eyes yet again.

“Seriously, next time I leave on a tour and come back she’s going to be walking and talking or something.” joked Jungkook as he lightly wiped his tears.

You hugged Jungkook from behind, pressing a kiss to his shoulder before resting your head on it.

“Wherever you are though babe, I’m gonna take photos and videos of all of it so you won’t miss a second of it.”

Jungkook stayed silent as he simply enjoyed having his small family together again.

“You were right earlier you know, on the phone.”

“Hmm?” You hummed in response, unsure of what he was getting at.

“This isn’t working - me leaving isn’t working. I’m not 15 years old anymore, when I could just drop everything and travel the world; I have the two most precious girls in the world with me now, and I need to take care of them.”

Putting his hand in yours, you sincerely looked him in the eye.

“We’re always going to be proud of you Koo, and you know I love watching you do what you love. This may be the hard part, once she gets a little older we could start travelling with you or you could fly back too. Whatever comes our way, we’ll handle it together.”

Jungkook kissed you passionately, hoping his lips could convey what he couldn’t seem to put into words. He repeated your words back to you.

“Whatever comes our way, we’ll handle it together.”

As if Mother Nature was on your side, the rain stopped, leaving the smell of new beginnings wafting in through your window.

--♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡--

If you liked what you read please interact/follow! Thank you for reading♡ - Emily

[j-j-ehlby-writes]

Almost (c.e.)

Pairing: Chris Evans x reader

Word Count: ~5.9k

Summary: You and Chris were set up on a blind date by your mutual friends. Sparks flew, but you never heard from him again. Two years later, you come face-to-face with him once more for their friends wedding.

Warnings: Some angst, swearing, not much else

A/N: This is a mixture of the movie “Life as We Know It” (mmm Daddy Josh Duhamel 🤤), a dating experience I had, and one scene from One Tree Hill. Enjoy.

My Masterlist

                    Two years ago…

My heart is pounding all the way to my ears. My hands are shaking under the table. My knee bounces uncontrollably as I wait.

I knew this was a bad idea. Why did I let her convince me to do this?

“You haven’t had a boyfriend for as long as I’ve known you.” My best friend so pointedly mentioned when we were out to lunch last week.

 “What’s wrong with that?” I counter.

“I’ve known you for three and a half years.” She deadpans. Even without looking at her, I know she has her eyebrow raised at me and her lips are pursed.

“Your point?” I know she thinks my serious lack of companionship these past few years is wearing on me, but it’s been quite the opposite. Not being attached is freeing. I can do what I want when I want; I don’t have anyone to answer to. If I want to sleep until 3 on a Saturday, I’m going to do it. If I don’t want to socialize with anyone, I won’t. If I want to take a spontaneous road trip, I’m going to do it. My life is my own and that’s how I like it.

“I want my best friend to have someone to experience life with.”

My shoulders dropped, sighing in defeat. There was no way I was getting out of this conversation.

“I want you to be as happy as I am.” I see the love in her eyes as her mind goes to her boyfriend and their new relationship. They’ve only been together for a few months, but I know that this is it for her. She’s a smitten kitten and he is equally as infatuated with her. They’re sickeningly cute. “Which is why I think you need to meet one of his friends-”

“Lemme stop you right there,” I interrupt her, “I hate blind dates.”

“You’ve never been on one.”

“And there’s a reason for that.” She rolled her eyes at me. “They’re cliché, they’re awkward for both parties, and they never amount to anything, thus being a total waste of time.”

She sighed, “Ever the skeptic.”

“And don’t you forget it.”

“Regardless,” she continues, “I think you’ll really like this guy. He’s already expressed interest in you.”

Like that makes everything better. “Great so now I have to live up to his impossible expectations of me when I know absolutely nothing about him.” As if the idea of a blind date wasn’t bad enough, now it’s only a semi-blind date. There’s no doubt in my mind that she has hyped me up impossibly high, that’s what a best friend is for. However, when your confidence level is next to none and already skeptical of the pending meeting, there’s no way he’ll like who I am in reality.

“I can tell you anything you want to know about him.” She is bargaining with me. She really wants me to meet this guy. She wouldn’t be trying this hard if she didn’t believe we would hit it off.

“Well is he nice?” This was the only real question I had. If he isn’t kind then there’s really no future.

“Incredibly!” She continues to tell me of the many things he has done for a charity he started a few years ago and slowly but surely she was starting to convince me. If he was that generous then he has to have a good heart and therefore is a good man.

How bad could it be?

I check my phone, glancing at the time. Great, he’s late. That can’t be a good start.

Numerous reasons why popped into my head.

Reason one: he saw me and bolted.

Reason two: he got into an accident on the way here and he could be in the hospital.

Reason three: he changed his mind and decided to stand me up.

More and more played through my head as I sipped my drink. 

By the time I was on my second drink, I was convinced he wasn’t showing up. I knew this was a ridiculous idea. I knew I shouldn’t have done this. I never should have listened to her.

I chugged the rest of my drink followed by some water before standing up to leave some cash. I was slightly humiliated for actually thinking this would be any different than all of my expectations.

My shoulder rammed into another as I turned to leave.

“Oh my, God, I’m so sorry!” A hand steadied me, gently grabbing the shoulder he ran into. “Are you okay?”

“My already small ego is a little bruised, but I think I’ll live.” I looked up to meet my assaulter’s eyes and immediately I froze.

Holy shit, it’s Chris Evans.

His piercing blue eyes were staring right at me, his concern was directed towards me. In all of his charming, ray of sunshine, bearded glory, he was here.

“I’m so sorry that I’m late. Traffic was insane over the bridge. I would have called but I don’t have your number.” He half-smirked but not in a cocky way. I’d seen him do it in interviews before. He could have come up with a lame excuse, but somehow I knew he was telling the truth.

“No, it’s okay. I understand completely.”

He sighed in relief, his gorgeous and perfect smile taking over his features. He looked down at the table and it disappeared. “Were you leaving?”

“Uh,” I stammered, “I was because I thought I was being stood up.”

“I feel awful. Please let me make it up to you. Let’s sit down, have a nice dinner, and get to know each other.”

I hesitate, now even more nervous than I was before.

As if sensing my hesitation, he decided to sweeten the pot a bit to persuade me, “We can even get dessert.”

I chuckle at his attempt. That’ll do it though. I sit back down with him following suit, finally starting our date.

We talked about everything. Anything and everything. No topic was off limits. Hours went by but it felt like minutes. We didn’t even know how long we’d been there until our waiter came to tell us that the restaurant was closed. We left and walked around the city until the night sky was giving way to the morning. He accompanied me back to my car, gave me the best hug I’ve ever received and a kiss on the cheek, promising we’ll get together again soon, and opening and closing my car door for me. I drove away with the biggest smile on my face and literal butterflies in my stomach. That was the best date I’d ever been on.

When I made it back to my apartment with the early morning rays peeking through my shades, I had a text message waiting for me from him. Just a simple good night, he had had an amazing time, and he couldn’t wait to see me again.

I fell asleep, hopeful. Hopeful that I would see him again, that this could maybe go somewhere. I don’t want to get ahead of myself, but it was hard not to. I hadn’t felt this way in an exceptionally long time. I haven’t been on this good of a date in equally as long. I can’t wait to see him again…

                      Present day...

I finally pull into the parking lot after an hour stuck in traffic. My 12-hour day at work today has taken a lot out of me. I’m exhausted, mentally and physically. Thankfully though, my 2-week-long vacation starts tomorrow. After that, I have fourteen days of no working, no getting up at the ass crack of dawn to be able to drive in miserable traffic, no dealing with difficult or boring co-workers. Just fourteen days of rest and relaxation, after the wedding of course.

My best friend and her fiancé are getting married on Saturday. I’ve watched them go through all of their highs and lows throughout the last few years and when he came to me telling me he planned on proposing, I couldn’t have been happier for them. He even asked me to secretly photograph the moment for her. She was more than surprised about everything.

Now their wedding is here and everyone couldn’t be more excited to celebrate them.

Tomorrow is their rehearsal dinner. The wedding party and their plus ones are all invited.

I walk into my apartment, immediately relieving myself from the confines of my shoes. A heavenly scent registers to me and I’m carried all the way to the kitchen. I see my sexy boyfriend standing at the stove with his back towards me.

“Hey babe,” he calls without turning around.

I hum, happily making my way towards him. I wrap my arms around his waist, placing a kiss on his back. “What is that unbelievable smell?”

He chuckles, vibrating through his chest. “Your favorite, of course.”

I hum again, “You spoil me, baby.”

He chuckles again, turning in my arms. His handsome face finally came into view. His gorgeous brown eyes look into mine as I get lost in his. For the past year, I’ve been the happiest I’ve been in a while. Since the day I met him, it was like everything fell into place. He’s sweet, ambitious, funny, kindhearted, passionate, and just overall the best man I had ever met. He makes me so happy…

Oh who am I kidding? He’s perfect. He is everything I ever wanted. If I made a list of all of the qualities I wanted in a husband, he would check off every single box.

But the feelings I have had for him over the last year are nothing compared to what I had in one night for him. I find myself wishing his eyes were bright blue instead of dark brown. I wish his arms were around me instead of the ones around me right now. The butterflies from that night have stayed dormant ever since.

I don’t know what happened after that night. I honestly thought we had a good time that night. Conversations flowed seamlessly. We made each other laugh so hard we had tears running down our faces. The physical connection was there- at first he had his arm around my shoulders as we walked around town, but as time went on he slowly moved lower around my waist, eventually intertwining our hands together until we arrived back at our cars. He even said that he wanted to see me again.

But I never heard from him again after that one text message. No call, no text, not even a message from my friend’s boyfriend. Nothing. I was disappointed beyond belief. I didn’t think he was that guy: the type to ditch someone without any explanation or goodbye. I thought I understood him to be a gentleman. Everything I had read about him pointed to him being one of the purest humans in the world. This was the opposite of all of that.

From that day on, I’ve loathed him. He gave me the perfect evening and then cut me off cold turkey from anything further. I have a three strike rule. His first: he was late. His second: he tricked me into liking him. His third: he lied to me. Three strikes and he’s out.

I have tried not to look back since. It’s not without its difficulties though since he’s literally everywhere. On magazine covers, in commercials, movie trailers, streaming services- he’s there. Why did he have to be such a successful actor? If he weren’t, it would make for forgetting him that much easier.

No closure. No answers. Nothing.

The rehearsal dinner went smoothly the next night which hopefully was foreshadowing for the big day itself. 

A majority of us were standing around about to start when the doors loudly being opened drew everyone’s attention away from our milling about. A man stood in the middle of the doorway then strode in like he owned the place. The closer he got, the more the details of his face came into focus.

No. Freaking. Way.

I look toward my best friend. She looked like she wasn’t shocked he was late, but she knew he was coming. I creep up behind her and clear my throat. Instantly she cringed.

“Did you forget to tell me something?” I whisper to her.

She sends me an apologetic smile, “Well, I actually put off telling you ‘cause I didn’t know how you would react and then I meant to tell you last night but with the whole ‘I’m getting married in two days’ buzz took over and now the rehearsal is here-”

“Just please tell me I’m not walking in with him.” I beg.

She chuckles nervously before she escaped to go greet him with her fiancé.

I turn to her sister who is also one of my closest friends. “Did you know he was going to be a groomsman?”

The guilt written in her face tells me everything I need to know. “She made me promise not to tell you.”

I groan, “The loyalty level around here is staggeringly low.”

I head over to where my boyfriend is standing and take comfort in his arms before I have to deal with the man who broke my heart.

“Are you okay?” He asks a little confused by my actions.

I nod, “Just tired from last night.” He chuckles at the mention of the night before, squeezing me into his chest.

“Alright everyone! Time to get started.” The wedding coordinator beckons us all to the back entrance of the barn standing next to our corresponding wedding party member. I stand right in front of the Maid of Honor and Best Man. I kept my eyes forward focusing on anything but the guy who took his place next to me.

“It’s good to see you,” He murmurs to me over the instructions of the coordinator.

I scoff and roll my eyes. He has the nerve to say that to me after two years of silence. I imagined a million times what it would be like to see him again. I’d imagined a lot of screaming with possible hitting. Or I thought about the ever-effective, old fashioned silent treatment. He doesn’t deserve to know that our one night out together effected me so much and I’ve carried a rather large torch for him ever since. At the very moment, it will be the latter, but there’s no telling what tonight and tomorrow will bring.

“Now ladies, rest- don’t grab- your hand near the crook of his arm. Men, keep your arm at that angle with an open hand resting on your stomach- no fist. And don’t forget to smile- this is a happy day!” As quickly as he showed up, the coordinator was on to the bride and her father before either of us could register he was there.

I begrudgingly did as I was instructed, “resting” my hand on his bare forearm, holding a stand-in bouquet for the occasion in my other hand.

“Are you not going to talk to me?” He speaks again but I ignore him once more.

Thankfully that was when it was our turn to walk down the aisle. For the rest of the rehearsal, he didn’t get a chance to say anything else. As soon as we were done, I go straight for my boyfriend. I figured there’s no way he would approach me if I were with another man.

We all head to the restaurant afterwards to celebrate the last night before our friends begin their lives together as husband and wife. I keep my distance from Chris, always sticking close with my boyfriend.

The one moment I was alone was when I went to the bathroom. I thought for the few minutes I wouldn’t be in danger.

However I was wrong.

As soon as I step out an arm shot out in front of me. A very pale muscular arm.

“Are you seriously going to ignore me for the next two days?”

I duck under his arm fully planning on continuing what I set out to do.

“Y/N,” he grabs my arm, “will you please talk to me? What did I do to make you so mad at me?”

I whip around hopefully sending daggers his way. “Are you serious right now?”

“She finally speaks!” He exclaims.

“Because I cannot believe what I’m hearing. Like, I don’t think I heard you right.” All of the feelings I’ve been burying for two years were making their way up to the surface and I don’t think I can stop them. “We had a fantastic night. It was literally the best night of my life, it was the most comfortable with a guy that I had ever been. You made me laugh, you gave me butterflies, you helped me feel for the first time in years.” I try to swallow down the lump that was forming in my throat. “You told me you wanted to see me again. You made me excited for the future for once in my life… and then you took it away.”

With every second that passed, his expression got closer and closer to utter defeat: his shoulders slumped, his grip on my arm loosened, his jaw slowly unclenched, his eyebrows furrowed.

“You were late,” I hold up one finger, “You tricked me,” two fingers,” “You lied to me.” Three fingers were up and in front of his face for emphasis. “Three strikes and you’re out.”

I back away from him, having nothing more I wanted to say. As soon as I turned the corner, I felt liberated… for about five seconds. When that passed, devastation hit. For the last two years, I’ve held out hope- I tried not to- but I did, that maybe someday something could happen between us. That maybe, just maybe, we could pick up where we left off that night.

Now that the moment of confrontation has come and gone, I feel all the hope fade away. All of those possibilities I pictured have left the building. Being with him is no longer an option. I have my boyfriend who makes me happy, who gives me everything I could possibly want.

The rest of the night went on without another incident. Chris kept his distance. However, I could feel his eyes on me for every second that passed as we sat at the table. It was a relief when we finally left and could retreat back to our hotel rooms for the night. The bride and I got to stay in a suite that we’ll all be getting ready in in the morning. They wanted to uphold the “not seeing each other the night before the wedding,” even though they’ve lived with each other for a year and a half now.

On the wedding day, everything went according to plan. Everyone was on time to hair and make-up, pictures went flawlessly, the weather cooperated with everything, Chris didn’t attempt to talk to me at all- it was a perfect day to watch two people who love each other commit to the other for the rest of their lives.

But then came the reception. That’s when I knew apparently all bets would be off. The ceremony was over. Niceties would wear off as more and more alcohol is consumed. I was not looking forward to it.

We make our ridiculous entrances and take our seats at the head table. We eat then speeches were made. Lots of laughs were had as the Best Man dished on stories he had with the groom growing up, a few tears were shed at her sister’s after recounting the moment the bride knew he was the man of her dreams- overall I’d say they were a success.

Again, I felt his eyes on me, burning holes in the side of my head from the other side of the groom for the entire dining portion of the evening. I kept myself from glancing in his direction, instead focusing on the conversations with the bride’s sister next to me and my boyfriend who is across the way- anything not to meet his eyes.

Finally the DJ announces it was time for all to convene on the dancefloor after the specialty dances. I immediately see my boyfriend start to stand, knowing he’d been ready for this all night. I’d been looking forward to dancing with him all night as well, I even removed my shoes in anticipation. As I stand up, a hand is held out in front of me. I knew whose hand it was. I remember staring at it as he would rub his lips on our date. The strength of it as it intertwined with mine as we walked down the streets of our town, the safeness I felt as he squeezed it if he detected I was getting anxious around a group of people and I needed the reassurance. I knew that hand well, unfortunately.

“Dance with me?” He nearly whispers in my ear. I didn’t realize he was that close until I could feel said whisper on my neck. I contain the shiver that runs down my spine at how husky his voice is. God I’ve missed that…

No! I will not be enchanted by him again. He does not deserve me.

I exhale the breath I was holding, it comes out a lot harsher than I expected. “No, thank you.” I turn away from him, but his hand gently grabs my arm stopping me from going any further.

He whispers again, “He’s not good enough for you,” before walking away.

I’m frozen in place. I glare at his retreating back as he makes his way over to the bar. My mouth hangs open in disbelief. How dare he… How fucking dare he assume anything about me or my relationship. He doesn’t know anything about what our relationship is like. My boyfriend treats me so well, spoils me even though I know I don’t deserve it. He listens to me, he cares about me, and he makes me laugh until I cry- he’s everything I’ve wanted in a man. Chris is the one who had his chance and subsequently blew it. He has no right to judge or even comment on my relationship when he knows absolutely nothing about it.

I hurriedly make my way to my awaiting boyfriend and pull him onto the crowded dancefloor. “You okay?” He asks me, “Did he say something to upset you?”

“Nothing worth repeating.” All I wanted to do was forget about him and his irrelevant feelings towards my relationship…

…Except I couldn’t. His words rattled me. Does he see something I don’t? He told me on our date that he’s an excellent judge of character so he wouldn’t say something like that unless he got a bad feeling, right? Either that or he said it just to get under my skin and force me to talk to him. No matter the reason I hate him for it because my pride won’t let it stand.

I spot him leaning against the bar, staring directly at the two of us over the rim of his glass. His perfect eyebrow quirks up at the eye contact, that sets my blood to boiling. He thinks he’s so smug. I wish I could just slap that stupid hidden smirk right off his perfect face…

Following a few dances, I mutter something about him going to dance with the bride to my boyfriend before exiting the dancefloor. I rush out of the barn, away from the crowd needing some air from his suffocating gaze. I find a little lit area that’s perfect for pictures. There are rectangular hay bales set together as a makeshift U-shaped bench with some low watt bulbs strung up above between two poles. It would be serene if I weren’t already on edge.

After taking a few deep breaths, I finally feel like I can speak without yelling. “You had no right.”

I didn’t have to turn around to know he followed me out here. It’s exactly what I wanted him to do, just like it was his intention to get under my skin. As much as I wished to avoid this conversation it seems that we can’t go on without it. We may tear each other apart in the process, but this is my chance for closure. This is my only opportunity to get the answers I’ve been needing to move on for the past two years. Two years of wondering what went wrong after the most perfect date I’ve ever been on with an equally perfect man has been eating at my heart and mind. I hated always wondering “what if” or “what would I be doing right now if I were with him” especially when I started dating my boyfriend. I had no answers as to why those questions could not be. I thought with time I’d stop asking them, thinking I’d never see the man again. He’s a big movie star, why would he wonder about a woman he went on one date with?

As I expected, his deep baritone voice comes behind me, but his words do little to ease my nerves. In fact they set them off even more so than before. “I’m sorry.”

I scoff at his half-hearted apology, knowing he doesn’t mean it at all. “Oh bite me, Christopher.” I turn around to face him. God he looks even better out here. The subtle gold glow from the lights are complimenting his skin tone, they make his baby blues shine which just frustrates me more.

“Please, Y/N,-” He takes a step closer to me, but I won’t have that. 

“No,” I take a step back keeping the needed distance between us for fear I may strangle him. “I don’t want to hear any of your bullshit excuses. You had no right to pass judgment on a relationship that you know absolutely nothing about.”

He slips his hands into the pockets of his dress pants. “Oh, I’ve seen enough.”

“Really?” I jut my hip out, resting my hand on it. “In the two days you’ve been here, you think you’ve got us all figured out?”

“Yes,” he answers with conviction. 

My shaking hands clench into fists, trying my damnedest not to lose control. I entangle them into my hair as best as I can without ruining the work the hairstylist did this morning before running them down my face. He has some nerve. 

“We had one night. One night! One nearly perfect night together and suddenly that makes you an expert on what is good for me?”

“I wouldn’t say ‘an expert’-”

“I wouldn’t say anything!” I interrupt, “I never heard from you again. Now after two years, you come in here acting like you know anything about me or my relationship? Who do you think you are?”

“A man who made a mistake!” He snaps.

There was a long pause. I never expected to hear that from him. All these years I wanted to think the worst of him for leaving me hanging like that. He got my hopes up, thinking we may have a future together only for them to come crashing back down to Earth when he never contacted me again. I wondered and wondered if maybe I read the signals wrong. Maybe I took his flirting as more than it was. Maybe the small gestures like his arm around my shoulders, on the small of my back, or the hand holding were only him being friendly. I wracked my brain going over every single detail of the night to try and pinpoint a reason for him not to have called me afterwards. I found nothing, which was equally as frustrating.

“Alright, I made a mistake.” He moves to sit on one of the hay bales. He rests his elbows on his knees and buries his head in his hands, letting out a huge sigh. “God I wanted everything with you.”

Once again, I’m frozen by his words. He what? But that doesn’t make sense. His words and his actions don’t line up- how could that be?

He removes his hands from his face, staring at the grass. “After that night, I wanted it all. I wanted to settle down, get the house with a white picket fence in the suburbs, carry you through the threshold after our wedding day, bring our children home from the hospital, watch them grow until we’re old and gray. I wanted everything.”

My heart aches. All of that was exactly what I wanted, especially with him. I could feel the tears building behind my eyes, my heart breaking mourning the loss of what we could have had by now if he had only said something.

I also find my anger growing as well. If he felt all of that, why did he not contact me again? Why did he give me hope that our night out together could have been the start of something good and then taken it away just as quickly?

“But?” There had to be a “but” coming after his statement. Clearly something stopped him from pursuing the possibility of “us,” destroying any future we could have had.

He sighs, “but…” he finally looks up at me with more emotion in his eyes than I was expecting. There was contemplation, confusion, honesty, agony…

I look away. In an instant I knew what he was about to say. It makes complete sense. He was at the height of his career, shooting movie after movie all around the world for a majority of the year. How would he have had time to have a relationship mixed in with that? He couldn’t.

“Your career was more important,” I interject, “I get it. I do.” I couldn’t fault him for choosing work over someone he just met, no matter how much he claims to have liked me right off the bat. He was going to be busy. We probably wouldn’t have had a lot of time to see each other. It’s not like I could give up my career to follow him. Besides even if I could have, he wouldn’t want that. He said so himself. He wanted someone who was independent; who could do their own thing and not be enveloped in his crazy life.

He stands up and steps closer to me, “no, that wasn’t it. I promise you that wasn’t it.”

There’s that word. Promise. He promised we’d see each other again soon after our night together. But he broke that.

“Then what was it?” My voice cracks at the end. I can feel my reserves slipping the more he speaks. I didn’t realize how much I missed his voice until now. I haven’t seen any of the movies he’s been in the last few years. I have him and his hashtag blocked on all social media platforms so I don’t see anything of his on any of my timelines. My other friends think I don’t like him (only my best friend and her now husband know about our date). To hear it again brings back all of the good memories we made together in that short night and all of the emotions I’ve been holding back since. “I have been wracking my brain for years wondering what went wrong after that.”

“I got scared,” he finally admits the truth. “I got scared of how much I liked you and how much I wanted to protect you.”

“From what?”

“From me,” he casts his gaze down at his hands as he fidgets with them, “and my life. I didn’t want to subject you to the chaos that is my life. I know what my fans would do to you if we were in a relationship, I was trying to protect you from all of the ugly that being with me comes with.”

So that’s what he was afraid of? He was afraid our relationship would inevitably end exactly like his last one? His “fans” were horrible to her. They sent death threats to her and her family members, always commenting negatively on her social media pages all because she was dating him. I remember reading about it right after it happened. I knew that side of his fandom was toxic. But did I care? No. Did I think I couldn’t handle it? I honestly don’t know, but would I have been willing to deal with it for him? Yes. I would have given up anything to be with him. That’s precisely why he did what he did. He didn’t want me giving anything up for him because he knows I’d be giving up any semblance of privacy I had if I were in a public relationship with him.

If I had known these were the reasons why he ghosted me, I would have been broken hearted but I would have understood. Hell, I probably would have fallen more in love with him if I knew that, not fallen in loathe.

He continues, “I thought that if I never contacted you again, you could move on”- he clears his throat-“and find someone better than me who could give you the normal life you deserve. Which as much as I wish I couldn’t, I see that you have…” he pauses as if deciding whether he should keep speaking. When I don’t stop him, he does, “But I can’t help feeling like that could have been me.”

My slightly shaky hands cover his fidgeting ones. His hand moves until he’s intertwining our fingers together, palms touching. They fit perfectly together as if they were each other’s missing puzzle piece. His thumbs stroke mine sending warmth down my arms all the way down to my toes. The sparks I felt back then return with full force. He leans down, pressing his forehead against mine. My heart is beating out of my chest, I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t feel it in some way.

I feel my heart break in my chest. My lip quivers and the tears threaten to make themselves known. My only saving grace is the fact that he can’t see my face. I may lose it completely if he did.

His breath is coming out equally as shaky between us, he squeezes my hands as if he doesn’t want me to let go. Believe me, I don’t want to. I bring one of our interlocked hands up to my lips. I kiss the back of his hand because I can’t kiss him where I want to. I pull back just enough to see his beautiful baby blues that could have any woman in the world swoon. They were terribly bloodshot right now but that only made them more tragically breathtaking. I tear one of my hands out of his and bring it to his cheek. He leans into it, a tear drops into the crevices between the contact.

The barely above whisper that came out was all I could muster without having a total breakdown because he’s right. It could have been him. We could have been something great. We could have built a life together. We could have had it all. And it broke my heart into a million pieces knowing all of this could have been avoided if life had handed both of us different lives.

“It almost was.”

~*~

Taglist: @the-marvel-wars​ @elusive-beauty​ @drakesfiance @im-a-slut-for-an-accent​ @fantasy-is-my-reality​ @princess-evans-addict​

[alpacaparkaseok]

The Pact - Shocker

Pairing/Genre: OT7 BTS x reader (not poly), idol!BTS, best friend BTS

Word Count: 8.1k

Premise: The truth about the pact the boys have about you has been revealed. What happens when you agree to go on a single date with each of them?

Warnings: angst, lots of feelings, but a lot of those are fluffy, happy feelings lol

a/n: there’s not much left so say except for thank you. I hope you enjoy, I tried my best!

Shocker (finale)

series masterlist

“Perhaps one did not want to be loved so much as to be understood.” -George Orwell ‘1984’

Sunday, 3:12 am – immediately following the events of date #7

           The fact that the lights are still on isn’t surprising in the least. It’s been like this after every date. Yoongi is no exception, apparently.

           He pauses outside the door, resting his hand gently against the doorknob. It’s nearly silent, but he can hear familiar voices speaking in hushed tones on the other side of the door. He stares at the dark door, unable to shake the memory of your tear-stained cheeks and swollen ankle from his mind. You had sounded so worried, so afraid of what comes next.

           You’d mumbled out his name when you made it to your bed, the exhaustion on your face momentarily replaced with a look he could only interpret as blind fear. And the way you’d looked at him, wide eyed with a quivering lip…he doesn’t think you noticed, but he nearly caved. He almost laid down beside you and taken you into his arms, deeming the time on the beach not enough.

           With you, it was never enough. Slivers of time and longing looks you never noticed; it would never be enough.

           If the botched date wasn’t evidence enough, it was then, when you gazed up at him and mumbled out his name, Yoongi knew.

           Tonight…it wasn’t enough.

           So he just leaned forward and watched how your eyes fluttered shut as he pecked your nose.

           “I know.”

          Jungkook straightens up from where he was slumped on the couch beside Jin the second the door opens and Yoongi walks in. The scattered conversation that they had all been using as a distraction fades out as each boy focuses in on the newcomer.

           Hobi is practically invisible beneath the huge sweatshirt he wears, his face barely visible as he speaks. “How was it?”

           For some reason or another, there’s always been a postdate analysis of sorts. It’s usually just like this: all of the boys gathered up in the living room in various states of consciousness. Jimin was the only one to slide by without an impromptu meeting after his date, partially because he was too exhausted to see straight and also because everyone knew he’d tell them all the details at breakfast the next morning. He did, and Taehyung actually managed to break a bowl when he lost it over the story of how you and Jimin got kicked out of the basilica.

           Namjoon, on the other hand, had been pretty grim when he realized that Jimin had been teasing you endlessly about your little kiss.

           Now, Yoongi shuffles inside and plops down unceremoniously beside Namjoon, who looks a little worried at the silence. Dropping his heads in his hands, Yoongi rubs at his face before leaning back against the couch.

           “It was fine, if you don’t count the twisted ankle.”

           “What?” Jimin sputter out, suddenly wide awake. “She got hurt?”

           “What happened?” Hobi follows up, leaning forward until he’s nearly slipping off of the couch. “Is she alright?”

           Yoongi is quick to explain your little accident, omitting your tears from the storytelling. He doesn’t want to embarrass you or make the others feel bad. The others listen with rapt attention, Jungkook’s mouth in a little ‘o’ all throughout.

           Jin remains silent on the couch, as he usually does during these little meetings. He’ll occasionally comment on something or voice a question, but he tends to remain fairly quiet. Drinking in the information, eyes clear despite the late hour.

           It’s unnerving.

           “So…it’s not a bad injury?” Namjoon asks, crossing his arms.

           “No, she’s fine,” Yoongi reassures. “Just tired. She went straight to bed after I dropped her off.”

           Taehyung grins knowingly. “Adorable.”

           Everyone is silent as everyone turns to their thoughts, the same thing on everyone’s mind. It’s Hobi again that breaks the silence, stretching and yawning as he gets to his feet.

           “Well, that’s that. It’s over. Gentlemen,” he eyes everyone around the room, shuffling toward the hallway where the warmth of his bed calls to him. “It’s been a pleasure working with you.”

           “Wait!” Jungkook also hops to his feet, much more alert than the older boy. “What happens now?”

           There are a few non-committal answers from around the room, but two people remain silent. Meeting eyes from across the space, Jin and Yoongi share a silent agreement.

           Jin clears his throat, and it’s only then that the boys realize that it’s been hours since he last spoke. With a soft smile he utters, “We let her choose. Whatever she wants, if she wants to go back to normal or decides to date someone.” His eyes return to Yoongi, and suddenly the memory of two years prior is laid out before them. “Then…we let her go.”

           “I’m just saying, if he didn’t want you to find it, he would’ve hidden it in his underwear drawer. Sock drawer is a stupid way to go.”

           You sip at the horchata Gina brought over for you, huffing out a laugh. “You’re so weird.”

           Gina shrugs. “Just saying. So what did you get up to yesterday?”

           Yesterday. You had woken up with red eyes and puffy cheeks from all the crying you had done the night before. Slightly embarrassed but more feeling miserable for yourself, you had crawled to the shower and tried to get your thoughts straight.

           When you emerged, you had a couple of texts to welcome you. They were from Jimin and Taehyung, welcoming you back to the groupchat. There were plenty of happy emojis and balloons taking up the messages, enough to make you crack a smile. You shot back a thank you text, letting out a sigh of relief.

           It was good to be back.

           When Namjoon texted and tentatively asked about the state of your ankle and if you were open to them popping over, you took nearly an hour to decide. Nervous about seeing all of them, cautious because you had no idea what would happen if you were in the same room.

           Who would you radiate toward, without even realizing?

           It was then, when that question popped up, that you realized that you had known the answer all along.

           It was startling, how the answer had been there all along. So simple, yet so unattainable.  

           “The boys wanted to check in on me,” you sigh, glaring down at your ankle. It’s still sore, but much better today. Although it’s safe to say you won’t be flying kites anytime soon.

           “But…?”

           “The thought of all seven of them in my little apartment at the same time was overwhelming,” you admit. “I needed a minute. To think. And I know I’ve had weeks to think about it, but yesterday was the first time I felt like I could see the full picture…if that makes sense.”

           Gina nods thoughtfully, reaching over to refill your glass of horchata. The sun is steadily making its way to the horizon, another day wrapping up. “It does. You’ve been going out with someone different each week, you’re probably suffering from information overload after all of those dates and the confession on the pact…how are you not exhausted?”

           “I was yesterday. I was torn – Gina, I want to go back to normal so bad. Just the way it was.”

           “Ignorance is bliss.”

           You set your glass down, pushing back from the table and crossing your arms. “Wouldn’t that be better?” You muse. “That way, nobody gets hurt.”

           Gina tilts her head to one side, eyes flashing. A smirk forms on her face. “You wouldn’t be saying this if you hadn’t already decided on someone.” She leans forward in her seat, staring into your soul. “Who?”

           You school your features into a neutral position. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

           “No, no. You don’t get to shut me out. You have feelings for someone, don’t you!” Gina points an accusing finger at you, letting out a startled laugh. “You totally do! What went on in your head, yesterday? Or maybe you’ve loved them for a while, and this is what it took to realize it-”

           “I can’t do it, Gina.” Your eyes are wide as you plead more with yourself than her. “I can’t do that to the others.”

           “And what, you plan to just let him go?”

           Dropping your head into your hands, you squeeze your eyes shut. “Do I have another choice?”

           The scrape of the chair against the floor alerts you to Gina rising from her seat, and you expect her to leave. She has every right to, you’re frustrated with yourself as well. However, a second later she’s rubbing your back, urging you to look up. Once you do, she offers you a small smile.

           “You always have a choice.”

           Gina stays for a couple more hours, offering her support as you blubber on about how worried you are. While your heart is urging you to throw caution to the wind and go after what you’ve wanted for longer than you ever realized before, your mind does a great job of conjuring up different reactions from the others.

           All of them are depressing. Every time you close your eyes you’re met with the crestfallen expressions of your best friends. Scenarios play out in your head, where you’re blissfully happy for a few seconds before everything comes tumbling down.

           “You’ve gotta get out of your head,” Gina chides as she eases off the couch. “You’re miserable.”

           You sigh, staring up at the ceiling. “It’s just…I can’t do anything. I can’t. That’s horrible of me.”

           “They’re grown boys; they knew what they were getting themselves into with this. Just…tell me something before I head out.”

           “…ok.”

           Gina pauses before the door, hands on her hips. “Why him? Because from where I’m sitting, they all love you.”

           The question takes you by surprise, but the answer is rolling off your tongue in an instant. “I want to be loved, yes. But more than that…I want to be understood.” You stare at a framed photo on the wall, solemn. “He understands me.”

           You don’t hear when Gina leaves, the thoughts in your head too loud. Instead you stay seated on the couch, chewing on your lip. Wondering.

           Remembering.

           All the times he’d been there – he was always there for you, how could you never notice? – never drawing attention to himself. Just there. Just in case you needed him.

           What’s stopping you?

           A knock on the door stops your train of thought, and you hobble up to your feet. Swinging the door open you say, “Did you forget something?”

           Jin stands on your porch, clutching a garment bag to his chest. His ears are bright red, set aflame by the setting sun. He’s wearing his glasses, which he pushes up on his nose. “I…no?”

           “Oh!” You step back, wincing a little from your ankle. “I thought you were Gina! I…hey.”

           “Hey.” Shuffling on his feet, Jin looks down at the bag he’s holding, seeming to remember why he was here in the first place. “Oh, here. I know it’s a little late, but I got your dress dry cleaned and…well, yeah. Here you go.”

           His hands tremble a bit, but you don’t comment as you take the bag from him. “Thank you. Your sweater is actually hanging up in my room…why don’t you come in while I grab it?”

           “Can I?” Jin looks down at your doorstep, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “I don’t want to intrude…”

           “Just come in!” You call over your shoulder, already heading down the hallway. “This will only take a second. Besides, it’s cold outside.”

           The door clicks shut, Jin stepping inside and shoving his hands in his pockets. You rush inside your room, throwing your dress on a hanger in the closet and scanning your clothes for Jin’s blue sweater. When you find it – grinning at the whale on the front – you pause. Holding it in your hands, you take a deep breath.

           “Hey,” Jin’s voice rings out down the hallway. You catch a slight tremble in his tone, which is mirrored by your shaking hands. “I a-actually wanted to talk to you for a second. If that’s ok…?”

           Clearing your voice of the emotion that’s riding you, you respond. “Just come down here.”

           A second later Jin is tentatively peeking inside your room, giving you a nervous smile. His eyes then land on your dresser, widening a bit.

           “So you did steal my copy!”

           Gasping, you toss Jin’s sweater at him and lunge for the dresser. There’s the pact, out in the open for anyone to see. “I- I was gonna give it back-”

           “I can’t believe you’d steal from me.”

           “It was for a good cause!”

           Jin rolls his eyes, laughing as he snatches the pact from you and holds it up in the air. “Nuh-uh, I’m taking this home with me. You’ve had it for long enough.” He makes a point of folding it up and sticking it in his back pocket, staring down at you with an amused expression.

           Suddenly you’re transported to his living room, dancing in his arms. Staring up at him like he put the stars in the sky while he looks at you like you’re the forbidden fruit.

           Is that why he’s here, now? To finally give in to the temptation?

           From the way the smile slides off his lips, you can tell that he’s remembering the same moment. His mouth opens a bit, looking as though he’s about to speak. After a moment, it shuts. Then he slowly reaches out, arms encircling you as he studies your expression. Waiting for any moment of discomfort.

           The second Jin pulls you into his embrace and you rest your head against his chest, his shoulders deflate and he lets out a long sigh.

           It’s not a sigh of relief.

           “Do you remember the first time we hung out together? Jimin wanted to bring you to the Spring Day set, and it was freezing. We were all complaining about our toes falling off and yelling at Namjoon for writing about such a cold song.”

           You chuckle, nodding. Jin’s voice rumbles through his chest as he continues. “I thought that it was so embarrassing, too. We were complaining like kids in front of Jimin’s pretty friend. I figured that you’d never want to hang out with us again. I’ll never forget how angry Jimin was with us after, saying that we were probably making you uncomfortable. Obviously, we all said that it was stupid of him to bring you to a freezing music video set for our first meeting.”

           Jin tightens his grip, laying his cheek atop your head and swaying gently back and forth. You’re not sure if he even realizes that he does it, but you don’t ask. Not as he’s walking down memory lane. It feels like it’s been centuries since you first met.

           “You know what I remember the most about you from that day?”

           You hum, nuzzling in a little closer. Hanging on for just a moment longer.

           “You never complained. Like, at all.” Jin cups your chin, making you look up at him. He smiles softly, but his eyes are sad. “I thought it was a superpower or something, seriously. You just smiled and joked around with Jungkook and Tae. If you were cold or uncomfortable or even weirded out by us, you didn’t say anything.”

           You roll your eyes, latching your hands behind Jin’s back. “I was definitely weirded out, but I didn’t want Jimin to feel bad. He was so excited for me to meet you guys.”

           Jin chuckles, the sound momentarily warming you up. “But the point is, you didn’t complain. You’ve always been like that. Even now, being dragged on seven dates and having to deal with us figuring out our own feelings, you never once complained. You never backed away.”

           The sadness that lingers in Jin’s eyes has you tightening your hold, wondering how to get rid of that sorrow. Your train of thought is interrupted when Jin brushes back a strand of hair, softly tucking it behind your ear.

           “You are beautiful and a wonder. You will always be important to me, no matter where life takes us. You will always be that person that I’ll drop everything for, ok?” Jin takes another long, adoring look at you before reaching behind him and gathering your hands in his. He slowly pulls away from you, staring down at where he holds your hands. “I might be an idiot at times, but I can tell when I’m in the way.”

           As he takes a step back, you watch as he drops your hands. “Jin, wait,” you reach out, grasping his arm as he moves to turn away. “Jin- Seokjin, what’s going on-”

           “You and Yoongi have that in common, did you know that?” Jin offers you a close-lipped smile, placing his hand on yours where you cling to his jacket. His thumb swipes over your knuckles once – twice – before he’s stepping back yet again. “Neither of you are complainers. I mean sure, there’s the funny complaints that everyone makes. But he has a penchant for suffering silently. I’d say he’s a bit of a masochist, but that’d be a lie. He just cares.”

           Jin has made it to your doorway now, where he pauses and leans against the doorframe. He crosses his arms, eyebrows furrowed in deep thought, a faraway look in his eyes. “I think he doesn’t know what to do with it, all those feelings. He just cares so much, about everyone. For you.”

           “Jin,” you gasp out, “what are you doing?”

           One corner of his lips pull up in a smirk. “Me?” He shifts his weight to his other leg. “Letting go.”

           “What are you even talking about?”

           “Don’t get me wrong, I intend to complain. You’ll get an official complaint in the mail soon enough, just give it three to five business days to get here. But I realized something a little while ago: complainers always find some new to complain about. And while that sucks, it also means that they move on. They find something new, no matter how long it takes.”

           He keeps looking at you with that sad smile, and it’s ripping the ground out from under you. You want to scream, throw something, or perhaps dissolve into tears. But nothing happens. You just keep breathing.

           In.

           Then out.

           And Jin keeps speaking. He’s rambling now, something he does when he’s nervous. His brows are still furrowed, and you wonder if he’s making this up as he goes. If the only thing he knew what that he had to find a way in, only to find a way out.

           “As twisted as my logic sounds, I think it gives me hope. Eventually, I’ll be ok. Probably be complaining about the weather or maybe even a girl in no time. Just give me some time, and I’ll bounce back.”

           “Jin,” you croak out. “…you don’t complain, not about these things. Why are you doing this? S-stop doing this.”

           “But it’s like I said: Yoongi doesn’t complain. Jagiya, I know him. Better than you do.” Jin closes his eyes, pinching them shut before opening them again. “He’ll never get over you. I mean it. And if my logic holds true…that means that you’ll never move past him, either.”

           Folding his sweater over his arm, Jin steps back into the hallway. You step forward, your stomach churning.

           “Seokjin!”

           He hesitates for a single heartbeat, almost looking like he’ll turn back around and declare it all some twisted joke. Like he’ll pull you back into his arms and admit that he’s been inside his memories for the past two weeks, replaying “La Vie en Rose” as he lies awake at night.

           But he doesn’t. He refuses to look at you as he marches down the hallway. As he walks, he continues to speak.

           “I was angry that night, when you called him instead of me. When you accidentally deleted your essay. He left, and I was stuck at home, pining after you like some teenage boy. I think even then, I knew that it wouldn’t be me in the end. But I’d die trying.” He laughs, joking but it doesn’t come off very funny.

           It’s when he’s reached the door and goes to pull it open that you call out to him again, sounding like you’re on the verge of tears. “But it was you, wasn’t it?” You run a hand through your hair. “You wrote the note, o-on the back of the pact.”

           With his hand on the doorknob, Jin glances back at you over his shoulder. Now you understand why he couldn’t stand to look at you a moment earlier. Those are tears glistening in his eyes.

           He looks at you for a long moment, eyes so clear and bare that you can see the very moment he lays down his weapons and admits defeat. “Would it change anything?”

           He’s already twisting the doorknob, but just before he opens the door, he hesitates. Waiting for an answer, you realize. Some small part of him still pulses with hope, even after all he’s said.

           You can’t give that hope.

           “There’s a difference, you know,” Jin mumbles, eyes dropping. “Just because I loved you first doesn’t mean I can love you the best. I think sometimes the world forgets that.”

           And then he’s gone.

           In.

           Out.

           Perhaps the most shocking development has been the fact that you’re still breathing. When Jin leaves your apartment, the sky doesn’t fall. Your heart, while aching, doesn’t shatter into a million little pieces. The quiet hum of your dishwasher continues on, oblivious to all that’s transpired.

           A few tears slip down your cheeks, which you quickly wipe away. When your dishwasher buzzes, you drift over to it as though in a daze. Wiping your hands on your dishtowel, you move to open the dishwasher.

           But it’s that dishtowel with stitched stars that Yoongi gifted you forever ago. Stars.

           You are the stars I’ve been reaching for ever since that night.

           Snatching the towel from where it hands off your oven, you fumble for your phone. Dishes long forgotten, you bring the phone up to your ear and nervously tap your foot. “C’mon, c’mon…”

           “Jagiya?”

           “Hobi!”

           “Hey, what’s up? How’s your ankle?”

           You chew on your lip, struggling to regain composure. “I- yeah. The ankle’s fine. Look, I need to cash in my question now.”

           Hobi chuckles on the other side of the phone. “That’s what I was afraid of. Wanna come over to the studio?”

           “Be there soon.”

           It’s dark outside, countless stars winking down at you as you hurry inside the Hybe building. You throw a glare up at them, wondering if they were in on it the entire time. If the stars have always been aware that Min Yoongi had no interest in them, much preferring your company to the twinkling lights in the heavens.

It’s your first time in here, the boys having recently moved into the new building. As such, you’re instantly disoriented. At a loss for where to go, you call Hobi.

“Hey, where…?”

“Turn around!”

You whirl around to see the elevator doors sliding open, Hobi hopping out. “Hey, you made it!” He instantly pulls you in for a hug, which you gratefully receive. “Everything ok, jagi?”

It’s then that you realize how you must look. Tear-stained cheeks and tired eyes don’t make for the best combination. “Oh…yeah. I’m alright.”

Hobi doesn’t believe you at all, but he doesn’t push it. Not here, out in the open lobby. Instead he pulls you into the elevator, punching one of the buttons. “Long day?”

You laugh quietly, leaning up against the wall of the elevator. “A little, yeah. What about you? What are you up to?”

“Oh, we’re recording a new Japanese OST. Wanna listen to it once we get up there?”

“Is that even a question?”

It feels unbelievably good to be here with Hobi, falling into an easy conversation despite the nervousness coursing through your veins. Once you reach the eighth floor, Hobi leads you down the hallway toward a closed door.

“What’s that?” He asks, pointing to where you still hold the dishtowel in your hands.

You blink, not even realizing that you brought it in with you. “Oh…um…part of my question, I think?”

Hobi chuckles, pausing outside of the door. “I was wondering when you were gonna use that question.”

At the end of your date with Hobi two months ago, he’d allowed you two questions about whatever you wanted to know. You only asked one, wanting to keep the other for a future time. You never thought it would lead to this.

“Ok, let’s head inside.”

Your eyes widen, but Hobi doesn’t notice as he pushes the door open and strides inside. The sight that greets you makes you want to sink through the floor.

Namjoon and Jungkook sit in front of the recording equipment, while Taehyung and Jimin lounge on the couches at the back of the room. Yoongi is busy on the other side of the glass, eyes closed as he raps into the mic. His dark hair is straight, kissing his brows while he clenches his fists at his sides,

You’re frozen in place as suddenly you’re surrounded by his voice. It’s lilting, more like singing than rapping. The words coming from his mouth stop your heart.

“Don't have to be right, just wanted you to stay the way you are, kindhearted, always smiling, but-”

“Hey!” Taehyung jumps up from his seat, alerting everyone to your presence. “You’re here!”

Jungkook swivels around in his chair, wide eyes crinkling as he grins. Namjoon quietly greets you, cheeks pink as he struggles to focus on the task at hand.

It’s Jimin that notices how lost you look. “Everything alright?” He ambles over to you, bending his knees a bit to look at you. He grabs your shoulder, eyes scanning your face. “Jagiya? Want to sit down?”

But you’re still clinging to Hobi, one hand wrapped up in the fabric of his jacket. “I…actually, Hobi, weren’t you gonna show me your new studio?”

You look back at Hobi, aware that everyone in the room is now staring at him as well with confused looks. You give Hobi a pleading look, but not before you see someone on the other side of the glass.

Yoongi stands before the microphone, frowning as he looks at you. As you lock eyes, he tilts his head to one side and mouths a single word.

Jin?

“I…uh, yeah. Yeah, let’s go look at it first and then come right back, right?” Hobi says, the confusion clear in his voice. Thankfully, he doesn’t question you and instead steps back through the door. “Be right back, guys.”

Just before you walk away, you turn back to try to communicate to Yoongi that you’re here for him, not Jin. But he’s gone, the side door to the studio still swinging from where he walked out.

           Your head is still spinning by the time Hobi heads into his own studio, hardly pausing to admire it before he’s whipping around to face you. The second he closes the door, he’s crossing his arms and giving you a worried look.

           “What was that all about?” He asks. “What’s going on?”

           “Hobi,” you croak out. “Hobi, I need help. I need answers.”

           Plopping down on his cushiony swivel chair, you squint at him. You can feel a headache coming on.

           “I can’t give you the answers if you don’t ask the questions, jagi,” Hobi chides, pulling up another chair to sit in front of you. His gaze catches on your wrist. “You still wear the bracelet I made you?”

           You pause, glancing down at the bracelet. “Of course. Everyday.”

           Hobi smiles softly to himself before leaning back and letting out a long sigh. “Ok. Tell me what’s going on.” He eyes the star-spangled dishtowel still in your hands. “I assume this is about Yoongi?”

           “I…how did you know?”

           He nods to the towel, chuckling softly. “He came to me asking if I knew how to embroider. I didn’t, but I got him a little embroidery kit to practice with on tour. It cracked me up when he ended up buying plain white dishtowels and would spend his time backstage embroidering little stars on them. I didn’t know he was planning on giving them to you at the time…do you guys have some sort of inside jokes with stars or something?”

           You stare at Hobi like he’s just grown a second head. “He what?”

           “What?” Hobi blinks. “Did you not know that he stitched them?”

           Of course not. When Yoongi had gifted you the dishtowels, you’d thought it was sweet, if a bit odd. You even remember joking with him about it, saying that he’d paid off the neighborhood grandma to do it for him.

           “No! I never knew that! Why would I…why would he…”

           “So…you don’t have an inside joke about stars?”

           You sigh, throwing a hand over your eyes. “How could I be so blind?” Slumping down in the chair you ask miserably, “I mean, it makes sense, I guess…he’s done so many things-”

           At this, Hobi stops you. “Like what?”

           There is a long, long list of things that Yoongi did for you that he never told the boys.

           “Or there’s that time he passed up on his Laker’s tickets because I had that end-of-year project due, and I was worried that nobody would show up to my presentation.”

           You remember that with a jolt. You had to give a twenty minute presentation on the effects of addiction, something that hardly seemed like a riveting topic. The general public was invited to the lecture hall, but despite your valiant efforts handing out fliers and sending e-vites, you were convinced that it was going to be a flop.

           It was. There were about seventeen people scattered about the hall that typically seated three hundred. Your hands were shaking and you thought you might burst into tears on stage because you felt like an utter failure, but then movement caught your eyes.

           Sneaking in and taking a seat on the very back row, sat Yoongi. His bucket hat was pulled low across his eyes and a couple of body guards tried (and failed) to looked inconspicuous as they took seats near him. When you stuttered, he help up a thumbs up and quietly encouraged you to go on.

           Jin’s words from earlier come back to you. I think he doesn’t know what to do with it, all those feelings. He just cares so much, about everyone. For you.

           By this point, you’re exhausted with all of the things Yoongi has done over the years. How blind you’ve been to his unadulterated kindness. Hobi senses it, seeing your shoulders droop. He falls silent, allowing you to sort out your thoughts before you speak.

           “Does he still want me?”

           Looking up at Hobi, you allow yourself to feel the question at you repeat it. “How could he still want me? After how blind I’ve been to my own feelings?”

           Hobi smiles softly, leaning forward to take your hand in his. He gives it a reassuring squeeze. “Jagi…I don’t think Yoongi completely understood his own feelings most of the time.”

           “But he’s done so much-”

           “That he has. But when you love someone, you don’t do those kinds of things for gain. He didn’t do those things to make you fall in love with him.” Hobi laughs to himself, shaking his head in disbelief. “He did it because you’re the right person. And when you’re with the right person, it’s simple. Does he still want you? Simple.” He shrugs. “Yes.”

           Yoongi is gone, Jungkook tells you when the boys eventually come knocking at Hobi’s studio. They sit in a semi-circle, pondering all that they’ve learned. Hobi had quickly explained the situation to them, and despite your worry, nothing happened.

           Nobody yelled, nobody banished you from their life.

           Instead, Jimin had laughed. Laughed.

           “Pay up, loser,” he’d commanded as he elbowed Taehyung. Taehyung whined and said that he’d Venmo him in a second.

           “Wait, you made a bet?” You shriek. “About who I’d go for?!”

           The boys all laugh nervously, Namjoon slowly edging toward the door. You snap your fingers at him, glaring. “You don’t get to leave, Kim. Were you a part of this?”

           “I…yeah…”

           “But Yoongi’s gone,” Jungkook repeats. “Aren’t you gonna tell him?”

           You sigh. “How am I supposed to tell him? Just march up to him and throw myself at him?”

           Namjoon shrugs. “I mean, that’d work for me.”

           “Yeah,” Jungkook chuckles darkly. “Just go for that.”

           Hobi rolls his eyes, leaning forward in his seat. “Just do whatever you feel comfortable with, jagiya. But do it soon. You’ll psych yourself out if you wait much longer.”

           It feels like you’ve time-traveled back to middle school, gossiping around the lunch table about your crush. Somehow, that’s comforting. While there’s a bit of awkwardness in the air, you can’t help but feel like you’re back.

           “Oh,” Taehyung snaps his fingers, mouth open in a little ‘o’, “but whatever you do, make sure there’s cookies. Or some sort of dessert.”

           “What?”

           “You know, to celebrate if he accepts your confession, or to make you feel better if he rejects you.”

           Gasping, you jump up to your feet. You point an accusing finger at Hobi. “But you said that he’d still want me!”

           “He does! Taehyung, take that back right now.”

           Tae stands up, his grin softening as he steps forward. That’s when you see how much they’ve been hiding behind their playful demeanors. For you. To help you.

           Wrapping you up in a hug, Taehyung squeezes you tight. “It’ll be fine. Don’t you worry.” And then, quieter so no one else can hear, “We’ll be fine.”

           You’ve never considered yourself to be a nervous baker, but here you are. Sliding another cookie sheet into the oven while two batches are cooling on your kitchen table.

           By the time you made it home last night, you could hardly keep your eyes open. While sleep did come to you relatively quickly, you were wide awake the second the sun crested the horizon. Wide awake, and a nervous wreck.

           Is this how the boys felt when they came to take you out? If so, they deserve a medal of bravery. You’re still within the comfort of your own home, but you can hardly breathe properly.

           Perhaps that has something to do with the fact that Yoongi just sent you a text that he’s on his way. Bouncing on your feet, you run your hands under the cold water in an effort to rid yourself of clammy palms. Drying your hands on the infamous dishtowel, you smile softly.

           Everything is going to be ok.

           Yoongi doesn’t get there for a long time. It’s long enough that you’re worried, and you pick up your phone to call him. A second later, you hear another phone ringing just outside your door. Hardly believing it, you rush toward the front door only to pause.

           “Here we go.”

           Swinging the door open, you come face to face with a guilty looking Yoongi. He’s halfway back down the stairs, but freezes in his steps as he hears the door open.

           “Yoongi?” You’re absolutely bewildered. “Where are you going?”

           Letting out a breathy laugh, Yoongi slowly begins trekking back up the stairs. “Oh…um…I thought I left something in the car.”

           “That’s a lie, isn’t it?”

           “What, are we not lying to each other today?”

           Smiling softly, you shake your head and open the door a little wider. “No. Not today, I’m afraid.”

           Something akin to fear flashes in Yoongi’s eyes at your words, but a second later he’s back to normal. “Smells great. Are you baking cookies?”

           “I’ve baked about a thousand, yeah. Can’t stop. It’s a condition.” You ramble as you turn and head into the kitchen, hoping that he’s following. The sound of his footsteps confirms that he is. “Want some?”

           When he doesn’t answer, you turn around to see what’s going on.

           Yoongi stands beside your table, fists clenched in the sleeves of his cardigan. He’s practically staring holes into the sweet treats, brows furrowed as he takes a deep breath. When he exhales, it’s shaky.

           “I’m fine, you know,” he grinds out, not looking at you. “You didn’t need to bake me cookies. I’m not…I’m not mad.”

           “Mad? What?”

           “Isn’t this why you brought me over? To let me down easy?” His voice is quiet, yet every word is like a bullet. “That’s why you were at the studio last night, wasn’t it? You were talking to the others about Jin.”

           Your heart stops.

           Is that why he disappeared last night? He thought that you’d made your decision, and it wasn’t him?

           “Yoongi, that’s not-”

           He’s already stepping back, refusing to look at you. His eyes are trained on the floor as he stumbles back toward the entryway, looking like he’s doing his best not to full out sprint. “I’m fine, jagiya. I know you’re worried sick about us, but don’t worry. I already told you not to worry, don’t you remember? I shouldn’t have said all of those stupid things on the beach…is that why you brought me over? You felt like I needed some sort of special treatment?”

           You take off after him, unable to believe what you’re hearing. “Yoongi, listen to me. This is for you. It’s all for you.”

           But he doesn’t hear you, he’s busy fumbling with his shoes that he slipped off beside the door. His hands are shaking, but he still refuses to look at you. “I’m so sorry for worrying you,” he says earnestly. His black hair is falling in his eyes, but it doesn’t shield his pink cheeks from your eyes. “I…wow, this is humiliating, isn’t it? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come-“

           “I invited you-”

           “-but I didn’t want to worry you even more, so I came over – why can’t I get these shoes on?!” He collapses to his knees, dropping his head into his hands as he finally gives up on his shoes. “Even that was a stupid mistake,” he whispers, never one to raise his voice. “I bought these for our date but then I realized that they would be stupid to wear to the beach.” He laughs at himself, no humor in the sound.

           You take a look at the dark shoes, which appear to be made of leather. They lace up, but it’s obvious that they’re not broken in yet. Crouching down beside Yoongi, who keeps his face hidden in his hands, you struggle to find words.

           “They look nice,” you mumble, voice raw. Have you been screaming? Or perhaps it’s the emotional exhaustion, finally setting in. “Very pretty.”

           “I wanted to wear them for you. Just once.” Taking a deep breath, Yoongi sits back and brings his knees up to his chest. He back presses against the back of your couch.

           And you’re here. Sitting beside him in the entryway to your small apartment. So far away from where you thought you’d be.

           As Yoongi glares at his shoes, you notice just how bloodshot his eyes are. Like he hasn’t slept in days.

           “Isn’t it odd?” He muses, tired eyes dragging over to meet yours. You’re unable to breathe as he stares at you without the barriers he usually puts up for himself. For the first time you can ever remember, Yoongi looks at you and lets you see everything. Perhaps he’s too tired to mask the longing anymore.

           Your voice comes out as nothing more than a whisper. “What’s odd?”

           He inhales sharply before breathing out slowly. “After everything, I’m still trying to impress you.”

           The small confession strikes you like a bolt of lightning, and you screw your eyes shut. Once the feeling passes and you’ve composed yourself, you open your eyes again to find Yoongi’s again on his shoes. He nibbles on his bottom lip as he reaches out and eases his shoe from your hands. Then, he slips it on his foot.

           As he begins to tie the laces, you open your mouth to say all of the things you should have a long time ago.

           “I see you everywhere I go.” Your eyes are trained on his deft fingers as he pauses for a moment before continuing to lace up his shoe. “For a long time, I didn’t know what to do about it. I just brushed it off as a side effect of our friendship. In my mind, it was better to ignore it than to face it, because then what? I could never have you.”

           His hands are trembling again as he finishes his right shoe and reaches for the left.

           “You’ve always been so good. There whenever I needed you, there just in the off-chance I called. On stand-by, like my own personal assistant.” You chuckle, perhaps a little insane by this point. “And I convinced myself that whatever that was between us, it was enough. It was just gonna be me and my seven best friends for the rest of my life. But then…things started to change. You guys challenged me to view you as something more.”

           He’s nearly finished tying his shoe now, your time is nearly out. But he fumbles, unable to quite finish.

           “That night you guys came up with the dating idea, I knew I was walking into a trap. I wasn’t worried about anyone crossing any boundaries, I was worried about me making the biggest mistake of my life. Sitting there I think I was starting to realize I had feelings for you, and I was one slip-up away from hurting everyone else.”  Now he stops breathing. But his fingers are still slowly working at the laces. “I cared for you then, but I loved you when you showed up at my door seven dates later.”

           He’s just managed to finish tying his shoe when you stop speaking. He doesn’t speak, only staring down at those laces with wide eyes as he processes what you just said. You take his silence in stride, still talking. Still confessing.

           “I didn’t know how to tell you that I was torn between the what-if’s and the what-is. That I was drowning in the possibilities everyone was offering me, but that when I was with you I was finally able to see the world for what it is. But you just said, ‘I know’ and I thought that you did. I figured you knew, because you’re you, how could you not know what I was thinking? You always do.”

           Yoongi stops nibbling on his lip long enough to voice a question, his voice hoarse. “The world for what it is…what is it?”

           You take courage in his curiosity, deeming this a good development. “It’s only tolerable because you’re in it.”

           He falls silent again, deep in his thoughts.

           “Yoongi,” you call softly, heart hammering against you ribs. “Could you look at me for a second?”

           He does, eyes wide with confusion.

           Those eyes, the ones you see everywhere you go. Crinkled up in laughter, joking with you over something stupid. Proudly watching you from the back row as you present to a small crowd. Filled with adventure as you sneak your hand into his pocket at the haunted house, inviting you to dive inside.

           It was those eyes that you saw looking back at you that night with Jungkook, out of breath and lost as suddenly it wasn’t Jungkook kissing you, but Yoongi. That forbidden dream become real as you squeezed your eyes shut and allowed yourself to pretend for a moment longer before pulling away.

           It’s now, looking into Yoongi’s dark eyes that hold so much promise, that you find it easier than ever to say what you should have said that night when he showed up to help you with your essay. Looking frazzled but ready to swim the entire ocean if it would help you. Instead, you had just given him a lingering hug before excusing yourself to go to your room and sleep.

           Sleep hadn’t found you that night, because you had been awake and asking your ceiling why a man like Min Yoongi would do anything for you.

           “Yoongi,” you whisper. “I love you.”

           He doesn’t move, but just blinks. Once. Twice. You see the doubt swirling in his eyes, so when you reach out to pull at his shoelace, you repeat it.

           “I love you.”

           One shoe at a time, you untie the laces. You undo the pain you’ve caused him, break down the barriers he put up.

           “I love you.”

           You continue to repeat the words, focusing on his shoes and not daring to look up at him just yet. Not until you get his shoes off, because then you feel like he can’t run away.

           So you undo the knots and repeat those words with a shaking voice. “I love you, Yoongs.” When you go to slip the shoes from his feet, he helps you, kicking them off and reaching forward to place his hand under your chin and make you look at him.

           Yoongi is crying when you look at him, the tears falling silently. A part of you wonders if he even realizes that he’s crying.

           “You…” he swallows, those eyes so wide. “…love me?”

           It’s simple.

           “Yes.”

           Yoongi furrows his brows again, trying to understand everything that’s happening. “But…Jin.”

           There will be time to explain everything. For now, you answer the question Jin asked you yesterday, standing before this very door. “The pact, the note. It doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t change how I feel. He came over yesterday to ‘let go’, he said.”

           Something like recognition flashes across Yoongi’s face at those two words, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead he nods slowly, trying to follow what you’re saying. “And you feel…”

           “I feel very in love with you, yes.”

           What happens next is burned into your memory for the rest of your life.

           Yoongi sits up, reaching across to you in a flash, pulling you until you’re falling forward. He lets out a shaky breath, pulling you into his lap just like he did on the beach. And as he holds you, he laughs. He’s still laughing as he plants a soft kiss to your forehead. He’s grinning as he presses his lips to your cheeks.

           Tears are still falling down his cheeks as he brushes his lips against your own. Hesitantly, as though worried you might pull away and tell him it was all a joke.

You return the kiss fervently, speaking in a language only you two can understand. He pulls away, staring down at you as though surprised to find that you’re really here and not just a figment of his imagination.

“I love you,” he whispers. And then he’s kissing you in earnest.

Breathlessly, desperately, and with a touch of insanity that only comes after spending two nights wide awake and heartbroken. As he holds you tight and kisses you harder, you know that he’s healing himself with each touch.

           One kiss, one shattered fragment of his heart sliding back into place.

           Your hands wrap around his neck and wind into his hair, pulling him impossibly closer as he gasps and whispers those three words again. “I love you.”

           When the smell of burnt cookies pulls you apart several minutes later, Yoongi wraps his arms around your waist and sticks to you like glue. He rests his chin on your shoulder, planting a few lazy kisses along your jaw that sets your skin aflame. “Mm, I love you,” he mumbles between kisses.

           Placing the burnt cooking atop the stove, you chuckle. “I know.”

           “Agh,” Yoongi groans, burying his head in your shoulder. “I thought you meant something different, ok?”

           “I know.”

           “Yah! I was trying to be understanding of your feelings I thought you had for Jin!”

           Reaching to turn off the oven, you grin. “I’m never letting you live that down.”

           As Yoongi feigns annoyance while shoveling cookies into his mouth, you marvel at all it took to get to this point. Yoongi notices your attention, puffy cheeks turning pink. But he doesn’t shy away, instead he silently offers you a cookie.

           “So…” he begins, a smirk playing on his lips. “I’ve been thinking.”

           “Dangerous.”

           “Well, I know how much you like bad boys.”

           “Mm, true.”

           Yoongi laughs along with you before continuing. His eyes sparkle like the night sky, drawing you in. “Are you free this Saturday?”

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Looking For A Place to Happen 6

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), age gap, general stupidity, some violence and threats, drunkenness, some content not warned.

This is dark!biker!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s lots happening in Birch and you find it all too amusing.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, Little Bones, and Fully Completely

Note: The second last chapter of Sam for y’all! 

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 6: Making stops along the way

💀💀💀

You laid on your side and hugged the covers as the bed shifted beside you. Sweaty, sore, exhausted, and the sun was only just dimming beyond the window. Sam’s broad back tensed as he sat up and stretched his arms above him. You could still feel him inside you, not that any reprise lasted long.

He said nothing as you heard the knock again. You barely noticed before but the pounding got louder as Sam pulled on grey jogging pants and chuckled. You groaned and hid your face against the duvet. Every move sent a thrumming pain through you, and agonized emptiness you resented.

Your knee hit the toy as it rolled against you and you flinched. Sometimes you couldn’t tell if it was him or the silicone stretching you. How had it only been a few hours? It felt like you’d been there for days.

“Damn it,” the voice grumbled from the other room, low and muffled by the wall, “I told you I was coming by.”

You recognized it from that fateful night at The Asp; deep and sinister. As brief as your encounter with the man, you could guess he was rarely anything but irritable.

“Calm down,” Sam replied lightly, “I got other things to do…”

“You got business,” Bucky retorted.

“Money’s in the bag,” you heard a soft rustle and a harrumph.

“Should’ve brought it direct,” Bucky complained.

“I’ve been taking care of your other problem,” Sam countered smoothly as you heard heavy footsteps move around the front room.

“I see that,” Bucky mused, his voice clearer, closer.

You lifted your head and quickly hid your bare leg and ass under the blanket. He chuckled as Sam neared and crossed his arms over his thick chest.

“She knows the rules now,” Sam said, “got it all under control.”

“Mmm,” Bucky lifted his chin and turned to Sam, “yeah, yeah, well… my girl…”

“Nice woman… stubborn like you,” Sam remarked.

“Stubborn’s a word for it. She’s, uh, concerned,” he said carefully, “about the girl. Says she’s young--”

“Not deaf either,” you sat up as you clung to the duvet.

He squinted at you and you flinched. Sam glanced at you and tapped a finger against his lips for you to be quiet.

“You know Steve’s girl is having that little thing at the bar. Her birthday or some shit.”

“Steve won’t shut up about it,” Sam rolled his eyes.

“He’s sweet on her. Too sweet.” Bucky sniffed, “Anyway, bring the girl, need mine to stop worrying.”

“Ah, sure, when was it again?”

“Tomorrow,” Bucky jutted his jaw out, “actually…” he peeked over at you as he thought, “take her by my lady’s place. The girls will be there getting all dolled up.”

“I’m busy--” you began and Bucky snapped his fingers at you.

“You said she knew the rules,” he pointed at Sam, “maybe you should remind her before I have to see her again.”

He turned and you saw his leather jacket as he stomped away, seizing a leather bag from the coffee table as he passed. The door slammed in his stead and Sam leaned against the wooden frame to look at you. He shook his head and sighed.

“Don’t know what it is about that man and women,” he gave a smirk, “but y’all sure do like to take the piss out of him.”

💀

It was easy enough to find any house in Birch, there were only so many. As you were realising too late, this was detrimental, not just to you but many in the thrall of the club’s clutches. There was no place to hide from those men and their cruelty.

He handed you your phone back before he let you go. He warned that you better use it wisely. He would meet you at the bar later; you were to make your way over with the group of women you didn’t know.

You neared the front door of the yellow house and knocked. You waited nervously, the cold air slipping in under your long jacket. A woman opened the door and you wondered if you were at the wrong place. Typical. You could even get lost in Birch.

“Oh, you must be the last,” she chimed, “I’m Mel.”

You smiled and awkwardly gave your name. She beckoned you inside and you added your boots and coat to those already by the door. You dressed for the occasion, Sam approved of the outfit with a growl after advising you to wear something slutty. You hadn’t worn the tight leather leggings and the strappy crop top since your club days in your two years of community college.

Mel looked you over but made no remark on your attire as she pointed up the stairs, “to the left, you’ll hear them.”

You ascended and the low hum of 90s music and female voices reached you from the slightly open door just down the hall. You neared and knocked as you waited tentatively. You knew Bucky’s girl from the bar but never had the chance to talk to her. You never did well with strangers, always the weird one, the funny one.

“Hey,” Bucky’s girl swung open the door, “just in time.”

“Um, hi,” you stepped into the small bedroom, “I brought tequila.”

You held up the bottle as you peered around. The mechanic was on the bed, her brows arched sardonically as she watched the quiet baker girl that sat at the slim desk and checked her appearance in a hand mirror. She hovered a stick of eyeliner in front of her face but never made contact with her skin as she bared her teeth. You put the bottle down on the corner of the dresser.

“I don’t know how to do this,” she wisped but quieted at her name as Bucky’s girl introduced them, “oh, hi.”

You smiled and stared quietly. You chuckled nervously and rung your hands. “Did you need help? I’ve watched some, um, Youtube stuff on it--”

“Sure,” she lowered the mirror in defeat, “I just don’t wanna mess it up.”

“That’s a lame present,” the mechanic said, “make-up? When you don’t even use it? I always knew Steve was a bitch--”

“At least he got me something,” she handed over the stick of liner as you neared and Bucky’s girl pushed a cushioned chest up from the corner for you to sit, “my pa never did.”

“Just because he’s less of an ass than your pa doesn’t mean he’s not an ass,” the mechanic spat as she pulled at the front of her stiff dress, black with little gems set into the fabric.

“Oh, and look at you, wearing that clown suit,” Bucky’s girl intoned, “we’re all in the same boat.”

“What kinda look you going for?” you asked as you cleared your throat.

“I… don’t know, something pretty,” she smiled meekly.

You nodded and looked over your shoulder at the bottle of tequila. You peeked back at the girl as she squirmed nervously.

“We should do some shots,” you said, “it’s your birthday, right? You should have fun… try to relax.”

“Her, relax?” The mechanic scoffed.

“Shots sound good, I’ll get some glasses,” Bucky’s girl said from behind you.

She left and you asked the baker to close her eyes. You held her head carefully as you stretched her eyelid and traced it carefully. It was much easier to do on someone else. You added a little wing and balanced out her other eye before you sat back.

Bucky’s girl plunked four short amber shot glasses on the dresser and poured as you went over the gift bag full of make-up with Steve’s girl. She chose a rosy shade of pink that you gently applied to her lips.

Bucky’s girl handed out the glasses. The mechanic didn’t flinch or wait before she downed hers. Steve’s girl frowned as she took hers and you gave a thank you as you accepted a glass. 

“I can already feel the burn,” the baker girl bemoaned.

“Come on, loosen up,” you raised your shot and downed it, “jeez, how old are y’all?”

“Old enough to know better,” Bucky’s girl said, “you know, you really got yourself in the shit but I’m sure I don’t need to tell you.”

“Oh you mean the local den of assholes,” you snorted, “shot, shot, shot.”

You encouraged Steve’s girl until she reluctantly knocked back the tequila. You took her glass and your own and went to the dresser. You refilled them and offered her the second.

“You really don’t learn,” the mechanic blinked.

“No, I do but I’d rather be drunk and miserable than sober and miserable,” you raised your shot, “and you guys, this,” you pointed to them, “the look, sure you got some years but you’re still young enough. You needa show some skin.”

“It’s below zero,” Bucky’s girl narrowed her eyes.

“The tequila will keep you warm,” you nudged Steve’s girl and mirrored her as you drained your shot.

“She’s gonna get us all killed,” the mechanic muttered.

“No, I’m gonna get you lit,” you grabbed the bottle and turned up the little speaker in the corner before shimmying over to her. You filled her glass and took a swig directly from the bottle, “also, I can hardly feel anything anymore.”

💀

“I’m telling you,” you slurred, “you can’t wear that! We stop by my place and I’ll get you the look.”

“The look?” Bucky’s girl interjected, “you mean the hypothermic style?”

“My nan has more style than all of you,” you stumbled off the main road away from the bar, “come on!”

“We’re gonna be late,” Steve’s girl squeaked.

“For what? It’s your birthday,” you grabbed her hand and ran ahead.

The other two followed a few feet back as you led them down to your nan’s house. You dragged her up the steps and leaned heavily on the door as you burst through. The smell of cigarette smoke met your nostrils as your grandmother appeared in the door of the front room and puffed as she watched you sway.

“Nan!” you dropped the baker girl’s hand and outstretched your arms as you grandmother swiftly sidestepped you and sucked on her cigarette.

“I see you’ve made friends,” she tutted, “try not to make a mess of my house or you’ll be cleaning it up, drunk or not.”

“We won’t be here long, we just need clothes… you got any of that wine left?”

“No more for you, girly,” she chided.

“Girls, girls, girls,” you turned back, “this is my nan. She kills bikers.”

“Shut your mouth, girly,” your grandma snarled, “you might be three sheets to the wind but words carry.”

“Do you?” the mechanic spoke up, more and more quiet as she imbibed.

Your nan gave her a long look. There was a moment of silence, understanding, commiseration. The old lady shrugged and tilted her head.

“I haven’t messed with bikers since 1978 and I don’t plan on starting again,” she butted out the cigarette in the empty coin tray on the console table, “go on, get what you need and get out.”

“Ugh, fine,” you moped away and waved the girls up the stairs behind you. 

You leaned heavily on the railing as you ascended and they followed behind you in disorder, several times supporting each other in the climb. Inside your room, you pulled open your closet and looked at the impulse purchases you never had a chance to wear. You don’t know why you bought them, they were all cheap and generic, but you were always a sucker for a sale.

“Here,” you handed the mechanic as shiny silver top with straps, “I should have something to go with it.”

You handed out clothes like candy, some of the tags still attached so you ripped them off clumsily. The mechanic ended up in the silver top and black pleather leggings, Bucky’s girl in dark blue dress with cutouts that you ordered in the wrong size, and Steve’s girl in no more than bright red bra and some high rise jeans.

“We’re gonna freeze,” Bucky’s girl whined.

“Suck it up and put your coat on,” you snapped, “now, we’re ready for fun!”

“Steve’s not gonna like this,” the baker moaned.

“You need more alcohol! Who gives a shit what he thinks?” The mechanic nudged her, “he’s a prick.”

“They’re all pricks,” Bucky’s girl giggled, “what’s this?”

You turned as she pulled out the bottle of Smirnoff hidden in your top drawer. It was still sealed because you didn’t like the grape flavour but she quickly broke the plastic. She took a gulp and scrunched her face as she held it out to Steve’s girl.

“No more, it’s too much!”

“If only Thor hadn’t dragged his girl off,” Bucky’s girl pushed the bottle to Steve’s girl’s lips, “but we gotta make up for her, don’t we?”

“Shit, shit,” the mechanic chuckled and grabbed the bottle as the baker struggled to swallow, “we’re gonna get in some shit, girls.”

“Is that idiot ever happy? Loki? What a dumb name?” Bucky’s girl snarled.

“They all suck,” you added.

“Ugh, don’t get me started on Sam,” the mechanic wiped her glistening lips, “preying on a kid.”

“I’m not… not a kid,” you hiccuped.

“You didn’t know who Aaran Carter is,” Bucky’s girl said, “you’re a kid.”

You laughed and took a swig and cringed at the burn of the vodka, “I’m an adult.”

“Sure don’t act like it,” the mechanic said loudly.

“Who gives a fuck? Tonight, we don’t,” Bucky’s girl said, “come on, let’s go see those bastards and show ‘em we don’t fuckin’ care.”

You snickered as you found your coat where you left it on the bed and the lot of you staggered down the back steps and around the house. The winter air crawled over you and sent a shiver up your spine. You hardly felt it in the warm glow of the alcohol; not the cold, not the dread that had lingered for days, not even the regret. You were completely and pleasantly drunk out of your mind.

[lsvdw-blog]

Not a Minute More: Part 5

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!MC

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings; Rating: Severe bodily injury, Mentions of blood, Angst; Mature, 18+

Premise: Everyone is in the fight to save lives and they finally find out what happened to Serena.

Author’s Note: This is very heavy - I apologize in advance 😭 Thank you to my girl @choiceskatie for pre-reading 😘 I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading 💖

~ Monday, 3:00pm ~

The explosion at Harvard labs reverberated throughout the campus and the surrounding suburb. The ER is swamped, an all hands on deck situation. Ambulance after ambulance arrives, wheeling in more patients before departing. Doctors and nurses are being pulled every which way, trying to help as many patients as promptly as possible. But they’re quickly becoming overwhelmed. Empty boxes of sterile gloves line the walls, medical equipment wrappers scatter the floor. They can barely hear each others’ shouts over the cries and less severe injuries are left unattended as the dire patients are intubated, defibrillated, or ushered off to an OR.

Ethan, Naveen, and Serena’s friends are on the ER floor, moving as quickly as they can, doing as much as they can, hoping their training and expertise is enough. But every time someone enters the hospital, they can’t help but pause for a beat and stare, hoping it’s her.

~ 4:00pm ~

Patients are referred to by their room number, blurring together. Everyone is exhausted, limbs heavy, grabbing yet another cup of coffee to keep going.

“Incoming!” A handful of nurses and doctors leave their stable patients and rush to the entrance, receiving the new bout of admittees.

“What’ve we got?”

“Two individuals, one male, one female, recovered just outside one of the classified Harvard labs. They’re unconscious, but stable. We didn’t see any obvious injuries, but that doesn’t rule out anything internal. The site of the explosion just cleared enough for us to work our way there,” one of the EMTs respond.

Ethan’s ears perk up at this new piece of information, but before he can corner the EMT, there’s another shout.

“We need an OR room stat!!!” Everyone turns towards the automatic doors at the familiar voice.

Rapidly pushing the side of a stretcher, is Rafael, his face ashen.*

Reclined on the stretcher, is Serena.

Ethan feels his world stop, the noise and hurried movements of the ER fading to black as his eyes trail over her. She’s covered in blood, drifting in and out of consciousness, and breathing through an oxygen mask. There’s several visible gashes on her head and body, but the most alarming thing is the large piece of metal protruding from the side of her abdomen.

She slowly turns her head towards him, as if she can sense his presence nearby.

As they lock eyes, he regains his senses, and rushes to her side.

While the paramedics continue to push the stretcher, he reaches for her hand and clutches it over his heart. "Baby, can you hear me?!"

She blinks groggily at him, acknowledging his words.

"H—," she swallows. "...Hurts," she manages to squeak out.

He nods continuously, his other hand reaching up to brush her blood-matted hair away from her face. "I know, baby, I know. Help is on the way. Until then, I need you to stay awake, okay?" He lifts her hand and kisses it. "Look at me, focus on me, and stay here with me," he urges. He relaxes a fraction of an inch when he feels her lightly squeeze his hand.

"Dr. Ramsey, I need you to step back!"

He shakes his head furiously. "I'm scrubbing in."

"The hell you are! We both know you can't be in there." Harper watches him closely. He's hunched over the stretcher, keeping pace, knuckles white from gripping Serena’s hand, eyes never leaving her face.

Harper sighs and her voice softens just a touch. "Let me do my job."**

He knows Harper is right, but Serena’s eyes are searching his and the thought of leaving her side makes him sick.

"E…"

"I'm here, I'm right here," he responds, tapping their entwined hands over his heart, hoping she can feel the heart that beats for her.

"I lo—," she lets out a breath and her eyes close.

"Rookie?" Her head lolls to the side.

"SERENA!!" He squeezes her hand multiple times, but her hand remains limp in his grasp.

As they push through the doors to the OR, her hand is ripped away from his. He reaches for her, but is stopped by Naveen and a few security guards he called for backup.

"LET ME THROUGH!! SERENA!!!" His voice cracks over her name. He continues to fight, leaving the security guards no choice but to drag him back towards the ER entrance.

Naveen stands in front of him. "ETHAN! You're not in the right state to be in the OR! Serena needs you to trust in Harper and her team. She needs you to be here when she wakes up! And you can't do that if I have to lock you down!"

Naveen takes in the man before him. Ethan's normally perfectly coiffed hair is in disarray, strands falling in his eyes. Cheeks flushed from the effort of screaming and battling the guards' hold. Hands and clothes covered in blood. Serena’s blood.

Naveen's heart plummets at the realization and it aches for the man he's come to consider a son.

Ethan stares down Naveen, chest heaving. After a few seconds, he gives a curt nod. Naveen waves his hand and the guards let go.

As soon as Ethan has range of motion, he walks to the nearest wall, and punches it. He walks away in a huff, leaving a room full of stunned individuals, and a gaping hole in the wall.

~ 8:45pm ~

Ethan sits with his head hung low in the waiting room, elbows resting on his bouncing knees, hands clenched together. Different people have come through, taking turns checking on him. He only mumbles or moves his head in response. The assortment of food and drinks brought to him remain untouched. He refuses to go home, sleep, or even change out of his bloodied clothes. Each time there's slight movement in the direction of the OR entry, he immediately turns towards it, only to be disappointed.

Naveen has been watching from afar, waiting to take his turn. He meanders over, silently taking a seat next to Ethan. He leans back in his chair, lacing his fingers over his stomach. He sits calmly, patiently.

After ten minutes, Ethan lets out a shaky breath.

"She needed me," he whispers, barely loud enough to be heard.

Naveen remains quiet, waiting for Ethan to continue.

“She left me a voicemail… said she was scared, that she wanted to hear my voice. I’m supposed to be her protector, but I didn't even pick up the phone.” He buries his head in his hands.

Naveen leans forward, gently placing a hand on Ethan's shoulder.

"My boy. You couldn't possibly have known what was going to transpire today. You can't hold yourself responsible. Don't think I haven't seen the way you look at her, treat her. How you're always standing slightly behind her, a pillar of support during patient interactions, ready to step in if need be. How you consistently have a gentle hand on her, guiding her through the busy corridors. How you wait to leave together so she doesn't have to take the T,*** despite the fact that your shift ended hours earlier. You do protect her, every single day."

"But when she needed me most!” He shakes his head. “I wasn't there. I failed her. Miserably.” He runs his hands through his hair.

"She is everything to me, Naveen, everything. She's shown me what it means to be loved unconditionally, that vulnerability isn't a weakness. I no longer see the world in strictly black and white, or even in shades of grey. I see hues of red, purple, green, the whole damn rainbow, all because of her. She's made me a better mentor and doctor, a better son, a better man. I can’t even imagine where, or who, I’d be now without her. I wasted so much time running from my feelings, when committing to her has been the best decision I've ever made.”

He takes a steadying breath.

"She's the love of my life and now… not only may I never get the chance to tell her, but I also may never get to see our future together," his voice cracks and tears stream down his face.

He swivels his head slowly to face Naveen. "I can't lose her. I just can't."

Naveen nods solemnly. "I’m worried too; I don’t want to lose her either. One of the best surgeons in the country is leading her case. You know Harper and her team will do everything they can and we know Serena is one hell of a fighter. She has to be, to have gotten past your walls and to deal with you on a daily basis,” he teases.

It does the trick, as Ethan chuckles through his tears, nodding in agreement.

“She really is something, isn’t she?”

“She really is,” Naveen responds with a twinkle in his eyes. “And that’s another reason why I have faith. She's a warrior, having fought so long for you, for your relationship, and she knows you’re out here, waiting for her, waiting to be reunited and happy together. She wouldn’t give up now.”

Naveen locks eyes with his protégé.

“The two of you? The story is far from over. I know that in my soul.”

Ethan holds Naveen’s determined gaze, drawing strength from it, and sits up a little straighter.

“Thank you, Naveen. It means more than you know. And… I’ll take care of the hole in the wall,” Ethan grimaces.

“Don’t worry about it, my boy. I’m just relieved you didn’t do more damage,” he laughs. “And if we’re being completely honest, I’d be more shocked if you hadn’t punched a wall.”

Naveen gives Ethan a wink before he stands and walks back towards his office, leaving Ethan shaking his head in amusement, feeling a bit lighter and more hopeful.

~ Tuesday, 1:30am; 1 Day Since Attack ~

Ethan had finally dozed off, albeit uncomfortably, in a waiting room chair, when he felt a petite hand gently shaking him awake. He lifted his head and opened his eyes, coming face-to-face with Harper. He bolts up.

“Where is she? How is she?” Ethan’s eyes are frantic, searching Harper’s face for any sign of information.

She remains silent for a few beats.

“She’s currently being moved to the ICU.”

“She’s alive?”

Harper nods. “She’s alive.”

Before Ethan can breathe a sigh of relief, Harper continues.

“But Ethan… it was really bad. The piece of metal in her body was larger than we thought. It spanned from her kidney to her lungs. It was only two centimeters away from puncturing her heart. Additionally, it was so embedded within her body that every time she took a breath, it dug itself deeper. This isn’t even mentioning the bits of shrapnel she had in other places.”

She squares her shoulders, bracing herself for what she’s about to tell her friend.

“At one point during the surgery, she flatlined.”

Ethan gasps and his eyes widen.

“For a very short, and scary, moment, she was gone.”

Harper’s words hit Ethan like a semi-truck and he has to sit back down to try and calm his thundering heartbeat. Harper crouches down in front of him, eyes softening.

“But we were able to bring her back and I strongly believe that the brief lack of oxygen will not have any lasting effects.”

“However, she has been through a lot in the past twelve hours,” she gently places her hand on his shoulder. “She’s still in a coma and we cannot say for certain if she’ll wake back up.”

Ethan tightly shuts his eyes and balls his hands into fists.

“I assure you, Ethan, that we did everything we could. But now, it’s up to her, and her body, to decide if she wants to rejoin us.”

A tear slips down Ethan’s face.

“Can I see her?” His words come out soft, broken.

“No visitors until she makes it through the night. But, you can see her through the window.”

Ethan is unmoving, trying to swallow the lump in his throat.

Harper stands. “Come on,” she tilts her head slightly. “Let’s take a walk.”

Ethan follows suit and they make their way through the waiting room, side by side.

~ 2:00 am ~

Before Ethan knows it, they’re in the ICU, Harper having coyly led him in that direction. She comes to a stop in front of a room.

“This is her. If you need anything at all, you know where to find me.”

Ethan stops her as she begins to turn away, looking at her earnestly.

“Thank you for saving her, Harper. It means…,” he sighs. “Everything.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” she responds, eyes fixed on Serena through the window.

Ethan gives a weak nod.

“She’s a stubborn one. I have a feeling she isn’t done with us yet.”

She turns and walks down the hall a ways, before glancing back. Ethan has one hand on the glass, watching Serena wistfully. She hopes that doing everything she could was enough.

~~~~~~

Disclaimers:

*I kept Rafael as an EMT because I wanted to include as much of the crew as possible and having a friend wheel Serena in adds to the angst deliciousness.

**I know Harper is a neurosurgeon, but I wanted to include her badass self and a bit of her platonic friendship with Ethan. So slight Harper AU!

***The “T” is what the locals in Boston call the subway.

[motherjoel]

hot cocoa (spencer reid x reader)

summary: spencer accidentally spills some of penelopes famous hot cocoa onto a beautiful stranger in the airport (who just so happens to be sitting next to him on the plane)

a/n: this one takes place during the holidays but its not all about xmas! also i tried to make this gender neutral and i think it is but if i missed something let me know

wc: 2.2k

warnings/includes: reader curses a lot & has flight anxiety, spencer is awkward and sweet

-

Spencer was rarely late- even when he had food poisoning from some bad chinese food, he made it into work with time to spare. Sure, he might have turned green at the sight of the evidence board, but he even made it to the trash can in time. His punctuality had come into question today, however, as he booked it to the boarding area. I shouldn’t have let Garcia distract me, he thought back to the holiday party at the office. Well, surprise party- they had all returned from a case sore and exhausted, but of course Penelope had baked an entire array of cookies and decorated the office to the brim. He stayed for one cup of hot cocoa, which turned into three, and before he knew it, his flight was an hour away. With his travel mug filled with cocoa in hand, he awkwardly ran through the airport to catch his flight home to Vegas.

Spencer never considered himself a coordinated person- sure, he had to have a certain level of finesse to be an FBI agent, but if he wasn’t a genius he never would have passed the physical. So when he found himself tripping over his own feet in the middle of an airport, he wasn’t as much surprised as he was perturbed. That annoyance soon shifted into pure embarrassment when he looked up to see you- the ethereal being he had just spilled Penelope’s famous hot cocoa onto. The beautiful person whose “I <3 DC” sweatshirt was now stained an unattractive shade of brown. His mind went completely blank in that moment, the apology he had wished to conjure up lying dead on his tongue. As he began to stammer in shock he stopped in his tracks- you were laughing. A noise Spencer swears could find world peace and end world hunger. A voice that finally encouraged Spencer to find his own.

“I am so sorry,” he apologized, hands frantically flying to his personal pack of tissues he kept in his bag. You continued to laugh, doubled over as you accepted the wad of tissues.

“Oh, it's okay,” you said, taking a deep breath. “God, I definitely seem insane. Sorry, I’ve just been having one hell of a shitty day,” you began to explain, confusing Spencer even more. “So my boyfriend breaks up with me the morning of my flight across the country, which I’m running a bit late for,” you continued, glancing at your watch. “But I have to go home for the holidays of course so I pack my shit and head out anyway, but I forget a sweatshirt! I’m freezing cold so I buy this overpriced ugly thing,” you gestured to your now-stained sweatshirt. “Only for you to spill your…” you sniffed the mess, “hot cocoa?” you questioned, Spencer nodded frantically, “all over it. I guess that's one way of warming up,” you huffed. 

“Wow, I- um, I don’t really know what to say. I’m really sorry about your day being bad. And for spilling my drink on you, of course, um,” he reached into his suitcase and pulled out his backup cardigan. “Here, take this,” he said, almost shoving the knitwear into your hands. “Please, it’s the least I can do,” he said, unintentionally flashing what Prentiss called his “puppy dog eyes.” He exhaled in relief as you grabbed the sweater from him, sliding off your stained hoodie and replacing it with his soft and coffee-scented cardigan. 

“Thanks. And I’m sorry for dumping my days' trauma on you, but I really do have a flight to catch, so,” you gestured towards the boarding area (which just so happened to be his designated boarding area). You rushed off to board the plane after giving him a tight-lipped smile and a soft wave, leaving him in a dazed state. Breaking out of his trance, he grabbed his suitcase and continued his beeline towards the plane. 

There was something about you that stuck with Spencer- although it may not have been your proudest moment, he was incredibly intrigued by you and the way you reacted to disaster. Spencer had seen his fair share of terrible coping mechanisms, but the way you laughed in the face of tragedy was something he admired- envied, almost. Envy wasn’t the right word for it, there were no negative connotations he associated with the way he felt about you. Perhaps it was too soon to tell.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he stepped onto the plane, the anxiety of missing his flight finally lifted. Said anxiety was soon replaced by a new feeling that was ruled by a flutter in his chest, one that he had only experienced a few times in his life. This fluttery feeling was the result of seeing you planted in the seat directly next to the one written on his plane ticket. His breath caught in his throat as you looked up from the book in your hand, giving him a small wave. His eyes widened as he looked around, wondering if you were actually waving at him. You laughed and looked back down at your book, a soft smile rested on your lips. As Spencer got closer to his seat he could feel his heart rate picking up. You looked up from your book as he struggled slightly to lift his carryon into the overhead compartment. His cheeks heated up in embarrassment over the struggle, but he eventually managed to secure his carryon, taking a seat in 32 B. 

“So we meet again,” you smiled at the disheveled man next to you.

“So we do,” Spencer smiled and grabbed his copy of Les Miserables from his backpack- he lost track of how many times he had read it, but it was an easy plane read for him.

“I’m Y/N, by the way. Sorry, I probably should’ve introduced myself earlier after telling you my life story. I just didn’t expect to be sitting next to you,” you said with amusement.

“I’m Spencer, and no problem. Hows, um, the sweater?” he asked, trying to continue the conversation. Normally he’d be a quarter through his book by now, but you were a rare something that was more interesting to him than Victor Hugo. 

“It’s great! Cozier than my ‘I heart DC’ hoodie for sure,” you laughed and Spencer swore he heard angels singing.

“I’m glad, I felt really bad. Hot chocolate is actually a really difficult stain to remove because it has fat, sugar, tannins, and protein. It would take a lot of work to remove that stain, especially with the chocolate to milk ratio Penelope uses,” Spencer rambled, the embarrassment setting in the second he closed his mouth.

“Penelope?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“Oh, she's my coworker. She’s known for her hot chocolate and her cookies. Oh!” Spencer remembered the plastic bag of cookies Garcia had sent him home with. “Want one? They’re chocolate chip,” he said, grabbing the bag of cookies and holding it out to you.

“Sure,” you laughed, taking a bite of the surprisingly delicious cookie. “Oh. My. God. That is incredible! This Penelope person has a gift,” you laughed, finishing the cookie surprisingly fast.

“I’ll be sure to let her know,” Spencer smiled, taking a cookie for himself. A comfortable silence ensued as the two of you munched on your cookies, the plane almost done boarding.

“So, what brings you to Vegas?” you asked. Spencer was a little confused as to why you wanted to talk to him, but he decided not to question the anomaly.

“Oh, I’m visiting my mother for the holidays. I work at Quantico in Virginia so I don’t get to see her too often,” he shared, surprised at his willingness to be open.

“That’s nice! I’m kinda doing the same, except I am not returning to DC,” you sighed. Spencer felt his heart drop as he internally begged for you to elaborate, and as if reading his mind, you continued. “That boyfriend I mentioned earlier was kinda my only reason for moving here, and now that he's a cheating jackass- sorry, oversharing again, um, now that we broke up, I’ll probably just stay in Vegas,” you explained, opening the book in front of you and mindlessly flipping through the pages. He focused on the chipped nail polish painted on your bitten nails as you turned the pages, eyes moving to the title of the book.

“Le Petit Prince?” he asked, pointing at your book.

“Oh, yeah. I’m trying to teach myself some french so I’m reading this to get a little better,” you smiled before your eyes drifted down to the thick book in his lap. “You’re reading Les Mis?” you asked, slightly shocked at the french writing on the cover.

“Yeah, well it's my.... fourth, I think, time reading it. Well, in the original french,” he said, oblivious to his accidental brag.

“Damn, are you a genius or something?” you laughed, noticing the blank stare on Spencer’s face. “Wait. You are,” you pointed at him, your shock turning into joy.

“Well, technically, I am I guess,” he smiled awkwardly, trying not to flaunt his intelligence.

“That’s so cool! God, maybe if I was a genius I could get past the first chapter of this book,” you huffed, looking defeatedly at your book once again.

“May I ask, why are you learning French? It’s the fourth most important language behind Mandarin Chinese, Spanish and German. That’s just my opinion, of course,” he said, slightly flustered by the look on your face.

“Yeah, I guess it's not the most practical. But there's something so romantic about France, you know?” you asked and he nodded, blushing lightly. “I’ve always wanted to visit Paris, hell, maybe even live there. It’s stupid,” you laughed, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear.

“No, it’s not. It’s called the city of love for a reason,” he said with a tight-lipped smile. You were both silent for a moment before the flight attendants began their safety announcements and prepared for takeoff. Spencer noticed you stiffen as the engine started to rumble and the plane got faster. “Are you okay?” he asked as you shut your eyes tightly together.

“Yeah, yes, um. I just have really bad flight anxiety,” you confessed, eyes remaining closed. The plane lifted off the ground and you sucked in a deep breath, instinctively reaching over to grab Spencer's hand. All thoughts of germs and disease had completely left his mind at your touch- facts and logic meant nothing at this point if it meant you wouldn’t let go. “Could you just um, distract me?” you asked, peeking at him from the corner of your eye, hand still clutching his.

“Oh, yeah of course,” he said, thinking quickly for a distraction before grabbing the book from your lap and opening it to the first page. In perfect french, he began to read. “Lorsque j’avais six ans j’ai vu, une fois, une magnifique image…” he read for almost an hour before he felt your head relax on his shoulder, eyes closed. He continued to read for a bit longer before the lull of sleep pulled him under as well, your touch comforting him and providing safety.

Spencer woke a few hours later with a start to the seatbelt light beeping on. Gathering his bearings he looked to his left to see you already awake, looking at him with a smile.

“You’re cute when you sleep. Snore a bit, though,” you laughed and yawned, looking out the window. Spencer's heart rate picked up at your mussed hair and dazed expression. “Thank you for reading to me. I’m completely chill now,” you reassured him.

“Oh, no problem. Also, I’m not the only one who snores,” he quipped, a soft smirk on his lips.

“Hey, gimme a break! That was the most I’ve slept in days,” you defended.

“Believe it or not, me too,” Spencer realized, surprised that he slept more on an airplane than in his own bed. Maybe that difference was you.

“Looks like we’re almost landing,” you noticed, causing a pang in Spencer’s chest.

“Oh. Yeah, I guess so,” he acknowledged with a slight tone of disappointment.

“Hey. So this might sound crazy, but what if I gave you my number? And while you’re still in Vegas, maybe we can hang out? Sorry if this is too forward,” you cringed in embarrassment.

“No!” he started, eyes wide.

“Oh, okay. I shouldn’t have asked,” you immediately took back your statement.

“No! I mean, it's not too forward. I, uh would love to… hang out with you,” Spencer said, the words seeming unfamiliar on his tongue. The smile you gave him seemed to stop the earth for a few seconds (although Spencer knew this was scientifically impossible, something about you defied laws of science). 

The plane soon landed and numbers were exchanged, and one unexpected (but lovely) goodbye hug was given, and Spencer was floating. He couldn’t wait to tell his mom.

-

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taglist: @rigatonireid​, @goldenxreid, @aworldoffandoms, @moonshinerbynight, @averyhotchner

[lucyintheskywithxanax]

Betelgeuse Above The Horizon

Pairing: Cordelia Goode x Fem Reader

Request: “don’t cry” and “this is all my fault” for delia x reader?

Summary: reader comforts Cordelia after she failed to rescue Queenie from the Cortez

A/N: thank you to the anon who requested this <3 I hope you’ll like it. No warnings ; this is your typical hurt/comfort fic

Word count: ~ 3 000

You closed the back door behind you as gently as you could. It was a hot summer night, and most of the girls slept with their windows open. No one liked to be awakened at 2:30 am.

You looked up at the clear sky and flashed a wistful smile at the stars. The moon had set half an hour ago and there was a perfect spot behind the greenhouse that blocked most of the city lights. You walked quickly, the cool grass tickling your bare feet, clutching a pillow to your chest.

You had been suffering from insomnia for the past couple years. Some nights were fine, but there were others when thoughts would keep buzzing and buzzing in your head and sleep would elude you entirely. So on those nights, you had taken to study the stars.

It was beautiful, looking up at the darkest time of night to see the twinkling, jeweled immensity of the sky. It soothed your heart.

You had barely got any sleep in the past week. Too many thoughts. Most of them were about Cordelia. Yet again tonight you had lain in your bed turning and tossing and seeing her face behind your eyelids, remembering something she had said to you today, or how close her hand had been to yours when she had put her empty glass in the sink. You were falling hard for your Supreme and it was driving you crazy.

You had contemplated making a move a few days ago, but rather quite abruptly changed your mind. For Cordelia had come back alone from the Hotel Cortez.

She had been gone longer than expected. When one of the girls came into your room to tell you Miss Cordelia was finally home, you all but ran downstairs to welcome her. When you reached the landing of the stairs it dawned on you that the girl had not mentioned Queenie. A feeling of dread settled in your chest, and expanded when you took one look at Cordelia. Her shoulders were slumped, her face pale and sad. She looked so exhausted you were afraid she might collapse where she stood, so you rushed to her and laid one hand on her shoulder for support and comfort. She met your gaze briefly, and your heart broke at the sadness and shame you could see in her eyes.

Cordelia was always so strong. So brave and so powerful. She was the last light to shine when everything else had succumbed to darkness. To see her look so defeated did not only sadden you; it felt terribly wrong.  

Zoe walked in with a bright smile on her face and sang, “Welcome back Queenie!” She had meant no harm, of course, had not yet realized. Cordelia’s face fell, and so did Zoe’s. Your grip on Cordelia’s arm tightened.

Cordelia lowered her eyes. Her chin trembled. Then she glanced back up at Zoe, eyes watering, and shook her head.

She did not say much, merely asked if she was needed for anything before she announced she had sleep to catch up on. You followed her up to her room without thinking, stopped awkwardly in her doorway. She turned back to look at you, patiently waiting, and your heart broke again at the sadness that was her smile.

“Er, is there anything I can do… ?”

She shook her head. Her hair was duller than usual and looked thinner around her tired face.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

You clutched your pillow tighter as you walked along the greenhouse, and sighed. There had been a constant, dull ache in your heart ever since Cordelia’s return, that you could not get rid of. It tinted everything you did, thought and felt, covered the world in a clear, grey light like the light in winter and lent it sadness. You flashed another wistful smile at the stars.  

You rounded the corner of the greenhouse and suddenly stopped. A light was on, and you could just see the shape of a woman sitting among the plants. You heard a voice, too, a faint mumble, and a few notes of mellow jazz music.  

You hesitated, stroking your chin on the top of the pillow as you stared at the shape. It was barely visible, but your heart recognized it.

You set the pillow down by the door and walked into the greenhouse.

Cordelia raised her head at the sound of your footsteps. Her eyes were red as if she had been crying. You offered her a smile as you walked up to her.

“Hey,” you said.

“Hey there.” The smile she gave you in return had none of its usual warmth. If anything, it made her look sadder still. “You’re up late.”

You shrugged. “So are you.”

She was leaning over a green plant in a pot, her fingers distractedly stroking one of the long drooping leaves. You gestured towards it.

“What’s this?”

Cordelia took a long time to answer. “A friend of mine once told me she thought those leaves have healing properties. That they could soothe, any kind of ache.” She paused, swallowed. When she spoke again her voice was higher and trembling slightly. “I tried brewing them in multiple ways, but all I can make out of them is bad tea.”

“Um,” was all you could answer. The sadness in her voice was like a slap in your face. Again it hit you, how wrong it was, how terribly wrong it felt. Shame and defeat should never have anything to do with Cordelia.

You dug your fingers in your arm to stop yourself from pulling her into your arms.

“It’s too bad that friend of mine isn’t here anymore,” Cordelia went on. Her hand tugged at the leaf, so hard you thought it would tear. “Misty, was her name.”

“Where is she?” you asked carefully.

Cordelia lifted her head as she gave a sad, almost cruel, little laugh. Her eyes briefly met yours, big and dark and lost.

“Why, she’s dead. Another girl I couldn’t save.” Cordelia slammed her hands on the table, making you jump. “Another girl I failed. You know, sometimes I do believe my mother was right about me. She would have been able to save them. I know she would.”

You swallowed around the lump in your throat, watching her, at a loss for what to do or say to comfort her. She was your strong rock, she had always been so. Now all you could do was stand still as your heart clenched for her and your brain grappled with words.

Cordelia closed her eyes, forced herself to take a deep breath. She opened her eyes again and gave you another sad smile. A tear rolled down her cheek, which she quickly wiped with shaky fingers.

“I’m sorry,” she said with a sad laugh.

Before you knew it, your hand was extending towards her.

“Come on,” you said. “Come with me.”

Cordelia’s eyes widened in surprise. She looked like she was about to protest, but then her hand slipped into yours. You gave her fingers a squeeze, the warmth of her skin spreading all the way to your heart and head.

You shut the light in the greenhouse, led Cordelia out and into the starry night. The air outside smelt of grass and of that distinctive, earthly smell that always comes with summer.

You picked up the pillow, and led Cordelia to your usual stargazing spot.

“You know what I do when I can’t sleep?” you asked in a whisper.

You dropped the pillow, gestured for Cordelia to sit down. In the dark her hair glowed faintly. There was a glint of light from the stars in her eyes.

“I watch the constellations.” You smiled, not sure she’d see it, but knowing she would hear it in your voice. “I’ve become quite good at finding them. I could tell you.”

There was a pause, silence only broken by the fastening beat of your heart in your ears. The darkness seemed to have sharpened your senses, for you could feel Cordelia’s presence as if it were hugging your soul.

You waited nervously, until finally came her answer: “I’d love to.”

You beamed.

“Ok ok,” you said, “lie down, use the pillow for your head.”

You lay side by side on the grass. It tickled your neck and ears, and you had to readjust your position several times until you were satisfied. Your arm touched Cordelia’s. You contemplated removing it, chose not to. Cordelia did not move either.

As children do, you pointed out constellations to her, trying to give precise directions but failing miserably. The tightness in your throat relaxed when Cordelia, unable to find Capella, finally let out a genuine laugh.

The touch of her skin against yours was like a fire in your arm, but a fire that causes no pain, only brings warmth.

“Scorpius is my favourite,” you said, tracing your finger over it.  “Especially when it’s so close to the horizon. It looks like the tail of a giant animal hiding behind the Earth.”

Cordelia laughed again. You heard something move, and then felt the warmth of Cordelia’s fingers as they laced with yours. Sparks flew to your head, and your heart purred.

“I didn’t know you were so well versed in astronomy,” Cordelia whispered. “You put your own Supreme’s knowledge to shame.”

You didn’t miss the bitterness in her words, the way her voice wavered slightly at the end of her sentence. You gave her hand a squeeze, and moved your arm so that more of your skin was touching hers. Something warm fizzed in your stomach.

“You know what?” you said suddenly, without thinking. “In all my time of stargazing, I found you in the sky.” You pointed across the sky from Scorpius. “See Orion here? See the bright orange star on the left? That’s Betelgeuse. That’s you.”

Cordelia scoffed sadly. She raised her free hand to wipe her cheek.

“You’re the arm that raises Orion’s weapon,” you told her, a soft, dreamy smile tugging at your lips, “one of the biggest stars we know of, and the day you turn into a supernova – which will only be in a few thousand years, a blink of the eye, mind you – you’ll be visible from Earth even by day. You’ll shine in our sky and everyone will look up at you in wonder.”

There was a pause, as you absentmindedly stroke your thumb over Cordelia’s and grinned at the star, and then a sob burst out of Cordelia, low and painful. You turned to her quickly in confusion.

“Oh, no, no,” you mumbled, propping yourself up on your elbow, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean – oh, please don’t cry.”

Cordelia was swiping at her eyes urgently, probably unwilling to let you, one of her girls, see her in that vulnerable state, but the tears were coming too fast, and her shoulders were shaking with sobs.

That was the last straw. Before you knew it, you had scooted over and she was in your arms, one of your hands coming to rest on her back, the other one running gently in her hair. She didn’t protest, and hid her face in the crook of your neck.

“Poor Queenie,” you heard her say. She wasn’t trying to control herself anymore: her voice came out weak and broken, heavy with guilt. It made tears pool in your own eyes. “She trusted me to get her out of that horrible, satanic hotel. She looked so relieved to see me, so confident, and I… I failed her,” she finished in a breath. You felt her tears on your skin and held her tighter.

“Now she’s trapped for eternity, just as Misty is, because I was too weak to save them. I can  – “ She choked on a sob, let out a pitiful wail that clawed at your heart. “I can f-feel their despair and anguish and it’s all my fault.”

“Hold on, no.” You pulled away a bit too abruptly to look at her, and cupped her face. Her skin was wet and hot under your fingers. It took all of your self-control not to kiss it dry.

When you spoke, your voice was firm and verging on angry. “Now you listen to me. None of it was your fault. Bad things happen all the time, and sometimes they simply cannot be fixed.” You paused to take a breath, stroked your thumb over her cheekbone and caught another tear. “You cannot save everyone, Cordelia. It already means so much that you try.”

“But I – “ Cordelia started. You cut her off.

“And your mother, Cordelia, your mother.” In the dark you rolled your eyes and winced. “I didn’t get to know her, but from what I’ve heard she wouldn’t even have tried to save any of them. She wouldn’t even have cared. “

Again, Cordelia’s mouth opened to protest, but you had had enough. So, without thinking, you leaned in and kissed her silent.

It was nothing more than a peck, a mere touching of lips, but it felt better and sweeter than any kiss you had ever given. You pulled away, baffled by your own action, to blink at Cordelia. Her eyes were wide, mouth slightly opened. It seemed to you she had stopped breathing.

“I – “ you started, but words vanished from your brain.

Cordelia blinked. Another tear rolled down her cheek. You leaned in again, kissed it away. Her skin was soft and warm and smelt like summer.

Slowly, Cordelia tilted her head until her mouth met yours

It seemed to you the world had stopped turning. The stars had frozen in the sky and held their breaths as they watched.

You pressed closer into Cordelia, one of your hands coming down to grip at her arm, the other cupping her cheek, wiping the tears that were still clinging to her skin. Her lips were soft and wet and more intoxicating than the most intoxicating of wines. It made your head spin. Or maybe it was just the world, which had started turning again.    

When Cordelia broke the kiss, you kept your eyes closed for a few seconds, savouring the taste of her still on your lips. Afraid you would open your eyes and find her gone. That had happened so many times before when you had awakened from dreams.

But here she was, her hair a faint halo in the dark, her eyes bigger than the sky, and oh, how your heart swelled when her lips curled up into a soft, fond smile.

You cleared your throat. “Well,” you said, your voice husky. “That was unexpected.”

Cordelia chuckled. She bit her lip, raising one hand to touch your face.

“I’m glad you couldn’t sleep,” she whispered.    

“Um.” You kissed her palm. “Me too.”

For a while you kept silent, staring into each other’s eyes, a goofy smile on both your faces. And then Cordelia’s smile flickered, and here was that sadness again, clouding her eyes.

“Hey,” you whispered, lifting one hand and running the pad of your index over her brow. You leaned in and kissed it until the creases of worry disappeared. You cupped her cheek and smiled at her. “It’ll be okay. None of this pain will last.”

For a moment Cordelia just stared at you, and then she gave one almost imperceptible nod. One of her hands slipped behind your neck to pull you close and plant soft, chaste kisses on your lips. Again, the stars held their breaths. From somewhere far away came the sound of fireworks, or maybe it was just your heart celebrating. Cordelia nibbled at your lower lip and gently licked it, her tongue hot and wet, and she released a breath through her nose that tickled your cheek and sent tingles down your spine.

She closed her eyes and rested her head on the pillow, and you lay yours on her chest, humming contentedly as you listened to her heartbeat. Around you all was quiet. One of Cordelia’s hands absently ran through your hair.

“I’ll visit her once in a while,” Cordelia whispered. “Queenie. To make sure she’s okay, and that there’s nothing more I can do.”

You hummed. “I’ll come with you if you’ll have me.”

Your eyelids were getting heavy with sleep. You pressed your nose against Cordelia’s chest, breathing her in.

“We should stay here and watch the sun rise,” you mumbled after a while.

Cordelia dropped a kiss on your forehead. You kissed her chest in return.

“Even though I may fall asleep,” you added.

She chuckled. “That’s alright. I’ll wake you.”

You lifted your head to look at her. She was staring at Betelgeuse, and she must have felt your gaze, for she tilted her head to meet your eyes. Slowly, like the sun or the moon rising, her soft, warm, glorious smile crept up her lips and chased the sadness from her eyes.

“Here we go,” you grinned, reaching out to caress the corner of her mouth. You propped yourself up and kissed her. “No more tears tonight. Let me love you under the stars.”

[astraljedi]

Coffee Crush (Evan Buckley)

A/N: first of all, I’m buck trash. I’ve been watching 911 with my roommate since season two aired, and I’ve been trying to fight it. But here I am, posting an Evan Buckley imagine. Secondly, I wrote this in a day? Who am I? Thirdly, we need more buck imagines.

Summary: Evan might be obsessed with a coffee shop, or a certain employee.

Warnings: none? Probably some bad writing.

Pairing: reader, she/her

____

Coffee never failed to bring people together, whether it was decaf or not. People enjoyed a hot cup of coffee or an iced cold-brewed coffee with their loved ones at any time of the day.

That's why Y/N had decided to open up Mamá Linda’s Coffee shop. Of course, Los Angeles had hundreds of know coffee chains around de City. But it didn’t stop her from owning her place, she fought hard for it and gave it her all until she finally made it.

It always packed all day, and she was on her feet since early in the morning until late at night. There wasn't a day where she wasn’t helping her staff on the bar and behind the kitchen. She was an all-hands in kind of woman.

Week 1

The job was exhausting, but a day never passed by that wasn't full of some entertainment—especially this week in particular.

“Y/N, we have a 10 in uniform,” Selena whispered to her while calling the shots for the current drink she had. They all spoke in codes, and a ten means someone attractive was in the shop. “Those piercing blue eyes could make me forget that I’m a married woman.”

Selena always made her day with her commentary during shifts and even of them during text or calls. She was a woman full of surprises.

“He’s lost looking at the menu.” Y/N chuckled, watching him wrinkle his nose in confusion. He was wearing a black firefighter uniform like he just came off his shift or was heading there. “He looks cute.”

She found it adorable, and without notice, she had a small smile splattered on her face. The cute firefighter turned his attention back to the line and caught Y/N’s eyes staring back at him. He must have felt someone was staring at him.

Blushing uncontrollably, he smirked at her playfully. He loved flirting, and he walked around, knowing he could get any girl.

Not knowing what to do with herself, she lowered her head embarrassed and ended up spilling the steaming hot milk from her pitcher on the counter and on to her apron. Y/N’s hands were now shaking as her team watched her with wide eyes, surprised with her clumsiness. She wasn’t like this at all.

The metal pitcher fell to the floor, hushing the packed shop with the remaining milk spilling on the ground as clients looked around for the source of the accident. It made it worse for her when all her usual clients were staring at her, they were worried, but she thought they were judging her.

“Y/N, get yourself cleaned up. We can handle it here.” Selena rubbed her Y/N’s shoulders while she nodded her head in agreement quietly. Darian was already cleaning up the counter while she walked away quietly towards the back. After all that, Y/N didn’t even dare to look back at the firefighter. She felt embarrassed at how nervous and shaky she got over just one smirk.

And if it couldn’t go worse, he became a regular after that.

Week 2

The second week was torture; now she knew his name after Selena had told her a few days ago when she finally caught his name for his order. Now, Harry, one of her other employees, had found him on social media during a late stalking session. He had a crush too.

“Evan hasn’t come in today, and maybe he couldn’t come by before work or after his gym session.” Harry frowned, leaning against the marble countertop after he finished with his last customer on the line. It was around 10 am, which meant a little breathing room for the team to relax from the morning rush hour.

“Did you get his social security number while you were stalking the poor guy?” Y/N chuckled, working on the pastry case. She had made the perfect Tres Leches in the morning that she thought it deserved a spot on the pastry case for others to see the newest treat on the menu.

“I only found about his family, his ex-girlfriend, and where he works. It wasn’t a full-on stalk since I know you called dibs first.” Y/N turned around, glaring at him after she closed the pantry door.

“I did not call dibs on him.”

“Well, you did spill your pitcher full of steaming milk after the poor guy tried to flirt with you. Which you never spill your pitcher, you can do this in your sleep cupcake.” Harry added as Selena had joined them in the bar.

“I’m with Harry on this, and you did say he looked cute that day,” Selena added, drying the white plated she brought from the back.

“I did not spill because of him. I just had too much caffeine that day that I was bouncing all over the place.” Y/N tried to get her self out of it; she didn’t even want to be in the topic from the first place. “Just because I find a guy attractive doesn’t mean I want to date him.”

“You’re saying that I’m not datable?” And if her nightmare couldn't have become worst. Evan was standing behind the pastry case, gym bag over his shoulders, and a tank that left his muscular biceps the main lead of the show.

It was like deja vu. Y/N’s blushing cheeks were hard to cover as he smiled back at her. He knew she was avoiding him since the milk incident, and he finally caught her. And even better, she was talking about him with her friends.

“I see you have become a regular now.” Was that the first thing she said to him? Yeah, rude.

“What can I say? I love coffee and scenery.” Evan flirted again, knowing he made her nervous.

“Well, I think Harry knows your usual so that he will make it for you.” And as expected, Harry was already finishing his order at the end of the bar. “As a thank you for your support, it's on the house.”

Harry smiled widely at Evan as he handed the coffee cup to Evan over the counter. “Won’t your boss get mad for giving away free coffee?” Evan added before taking a sip of his drink.

“The good thing is that I’m the owner.” Y/N smirked back at him before turning around and walking towards the backroom. She looked over her shoulder, thinking she pulled off the last move, but he didn’t fail to wink back at her before Evan left the shop.

Week 3

After her last conversation with Evan, she did see him a couple of times after. And she finally learned his usual order. It was a black coffee with a splash of unsweetened almond milk topped with some cinnamon.

She did get used to seeing his face around. He did seem to enjoy the coffee. “Hey, sweet face, you’re early today.” Y/N leaned against the counter, already having his order ready for him in front of her.

“Now, you’re giving me nicknames?” He did enjoy the coffee, but he loved it the most when she greeted him with her sweet smile. He had gotten her to open up to him these couple of days, and he was happy about it. She brightened up his day.

“You just always have a sweet smile, like a toddler. Always so full of life, energy, and happiness.” And she wasn’t shy anymore on holding back the compliments.

“Then, I will call you freckles.” Evan reached towards Harry to finish paying and looked at her one last time. “You should show your freckles more. They go perfectly with your beautiful smile.” He winked at her and left the store in a hurry for work.

“If you don’t date him, I will.” Selena pushed a blushing Y/N playfully while she still stared at the door even though he was nowhere in sight anymore.

Week 4

“Good Morning Harry, did you watch the game yesterday?” Evan chatted with Harry, his eyes scanning the shop for a particular face.

“I did, and after that game, I’m embarrassed to even be from here. What a disaster it was.” Harry shrugged his shoulders, giving Evan his change. “She’s not here, she came down with the horrible flu and couldn’t risk getting all of us sick.”

“Oh, I was looking forward to seeing that smile today.” Evan frowned, placing a tip in the jar on the counter. “It was nice seeing you. Take care.”

“He looked sad when he walked in today,” Selena said, while Harry agreed.

Week 5

After spending some time in bed and being miserable at home with the flu, Y/N was finally on her feet and feeling better. The first day back and she was excited to head back to her second home, and especially to see that special someone.

But that morning, he didn’t show up at all. It was like the universe didn’t want her to see him today.

“He did come yesterday, right?” Y/N asked Selena, tapping her fingers on the counter, worrying about him. She had a feeling something was wrong, especially after Selena has told her that morning that he had been looking rough the couple of times he had come in.

“He did, he still had the sad puppy eyes, but he did order your tres leches again,” Selena confirmed, handing Y/N a warm cup of tea. Y/N felt terrible, he did leave his number for her with Harry, but she just didn’t have the courage to text first.

Maybe she was crazy, but she missed his smile and his contagious laughter while she was gone. She was looking forward to seeing him again, but she might have sent the wrong signal by not texting or even calling him after he left his number.

“I’m going for a drive, think you can stay in charge until I get back?” Y/N placed the cup on the counter and folded up one of the to-go boxes.

“If you’re going to do what I think you're going to do, then I can.” Selena chuckled, helping Y/N place the whole Tres Leches in the box.

She had driven past the station a few times before she even knew him, so thankfully, she knew the way and didn’t need to waste more time by searching it on her GPS. It was a 10-minute ride, and with her luck, traffic was lighter than usual.

“Should I call him and tell him that I’m here?” She thought, looking at the intimidating station. With her shaking hands, she built up the courage and stepped out of her car with her other hand holding on to the box.

“I bet I look pathetic.” And again, the little voice in her head returned. Her eyes wandered the area, and she only spotted a pair of legs working behind the ambulance. Hesitant, she made her way towards the figure as she held tightly on to the box in her hands. “Hi, excuse me.” She felt so small and intimidated her voice cracked a bit at the end.

“How can I help you, ma'am.” She felt so bad about interrupting him while he was just trying to do his job.

“Sorry to bother you, is Evan here? I don’t know if this is the right station-“

“Oh yeah, he’s here.” He smiled a little too friendly and immediately started shouting Evan’s name until an annoyed Evan came marching from what looked like a locker room.

“Han, why in the world are you screaming?” Buck groaned, but it took him a second to realized what was happening.

“This kind woman was asking for you.” Han smiled at Y/N kindly. Buck’s eyes widened, and his cheeks we're madly blushing when he spotted her standing right behind Han. And of course, Y/N had been blushing since he had walked out of the lockers.

“This is for all of you; I made it this morning.” Y/N held out the box, and Han didn’t hesitate to grab it from her hands.

“She brings us treats. She’s a keeper, Buck.” Han said a little too loud as he climbs up the stairs towards the small kitchen.

“I’m sorry if I’m overstepping. I got worried when you didn’t come in, and I just had a bad feeling. I needed to make sure you were alright.” Y/N rambled, her hands moving around like crazy as she tried to explain her actions. “I don’t know if you’re just nice, but I’m pretty sure we were flirting all of this time, and I just needed to see you.” With her rambling all over the place, she didn’t even notice how Buck was walking towards her slowly.

“I wanted to see you too.” Evan chuckled, grabbing her by the waist, finally pulling her closer to his body for the first time. The heat radiating between the two met as Buck lowered down to her height to catch her lips with his.

In complete shock, Y/N’s widened at first but slowly shut them as she kissed him back. It was slow and sweet, how he imagined it to be. One of Y/N’s hands found its way towards his bicep, resting on the muscle even after he had pulled away to look at her glistening eyes. “Just as good as your coffee,” Evan mumbled, pecking her lips a few times.

They were in their little bubble until wolf whistles and cheers coming from the balcony above them. “You can come to visit us at any time if you bring more goodies as good as this dessert,” Han said with a mouth full of food. A woman standing right next to him slapped him in the shoulder, rolling his eyes at him. “Excuse my partner. He gets a little too happy over food.”

“I’ll bring more next time.” Y/N giggled as Buck held her between his arms.

[rockthistowninsideout]

DigiWeek 2021

Day 2 - Voyage

The Story

part 1 part 3 part 4

   After the first shock of having been transported to the Digital World had subsided we had tallied what was in our possession. We still had our school bags with us which meant unnecessary burdens in the form of school books and notebooks. But we couldn’t just throw them away so we had to carry them if we liked it or not. Thankfully, we still had our full bento boxes in there as well (today we’d gotten free pizza for lunch because of the principal’s birthday – the only good thing coming out of this miserable day). In addition to that I had a small first aid kit at the bottom of my bag while Taki was always carrying a sewing kit. We could be off worse, I supposed.

   Once that was out of the way, the four of us set off to the West – at least I thought it was the West as the sun was moving in this direction (I mean, the world was moving in this direction. My science teacher would get pustules if he’d heard that.) The vegetation grew sparser the longer we trudged until we suddenly stepped into thick powdery snow.

   “Oh God!”, Taki muttered, clutching her bare arms after a few metres. She started to shake until I took off my jacket and placed it on her shoulders. “Thank you”, she said with a bright smile.

   I simply touched her back in response. “How far is it?”, I asked Kamemon.

   “There’s a cave about an hour away where we can hide for the night.”

   Just as it had said this, a snowstorm descended completely out of the blue. For a moment, we were engulfed in a twirling cloud of snowflakes. Taki and I leaned into each other to shield ourselves. When that cleared, a hideous Digimon stood before us, baring his sharp white teeth from out of a mass of black wiry fur.

   “Oh, Frezamon! My friend, how are you doing?” Kamemon said cheerily.

   I blinked rapidly. I wouldn’t call someone a friend who was frantically dancing around us. It drew nearer and suddenly produced an ice pick from among its fur. With which it was aiming at us now!

   Kamemon took a step back. “It’s never done that before!”

   “Stay back!”, Ryudamon yelled. It leapt before the three of us, hissing “Tera Burst!” and jumping into the air to fire several mini explosions. My eyes went wide watching but Frezamon simply danced back, noticing that a few fur strands had caught fire. It grabbed a handful of snow to put the fire out. Then it let out a roar and threw the ice pick. It sailed past Taki’s scalp by a whisker but only because she had managed to duck away in time. Suddenly the DigiVice, how the round devices we had gotten were called, at her belt started to glow – as did Ryudamon and it changed in a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it-moment from the mastiff-sized Digimon to a blue cyber dinosaur three times my height. It looked terrifying with its red sharp claws, bolted extremities, and sizzling cable ends serving as its tail. My own DigiVice lit up. The name DexDorugamon appeared on it.

   Frezamon, though, seemed not intimidated by it. The ice pick returned in a boomerang-like fashion and now it was ready to throw it again. The twirling fur revealed something that caught my eye. A black spike was protruding from Frezamon’s back.

   “Kamemon”, I asked and indicated the spike. “Is that a normal feature of Frezamon? Like a bee sting?”

   Kamemon cautiously peered around Frezamon’s back. Its eyes went wide. “No! I have never seen that before!”

   “Well, you said something about a gruesome force. Maybe that’s what’s responsible for the spike.”

   Taki, who was still looking frightened, yelled “You heard that?”

   DexDorugamon raised a claw as answer. It jumped for Frezamon’s ice pick, tore it away and by doing so it caused Frezamon to topple over. Now that it lay face-first on the ground, DexDorugamon could aim its Cannonball at the spike. It burst into a thousand shards that floated in the air for a moment before dissolving into sparks of data. As DexDorugamon evolved back to Ryudamon, Frezamon slowly rose to its feet, looking confused.

   “Oh, hey friends! How come you’re out here in the cold? And who are those weird-looking creatures?” It indicated Taki and me.

   I squinted at Frezamon. “You don’t remember anything?” I asked incredulously.

   It shook its head, asking with a frown, “Should I?”

   “Well, you just tried to kill my best friend!”

   Kamemon rushed to Frezamon. “What my DigiDestined actually means is that something caused you to attack us. You wouldn’t have done that if you hadn’t been out of your mind, right?”

   Despite being basically nothing but fur, Frezamon managed to look like an entire question mark. And then downright offended. “Of course not! I would never hurt my friends.” It tilted its head and scratched it. “Now, thinking about it, you’re not the only -  what did you just say, Kamemon?”

   “DigiDestined.”

   “-DigiDestined that I’ve encountered. I saw one the other day up on the mountain.” He indicated the snow-covered peaks on the horizon.

   Taki and I exchanged a look. Another human! So we weren’t the only ones stranded in the Digital World!

   “We should go find them”, Taki said. She looked much better, now that the imminent danger was banned. “Maybe they know how to get out of here.”

   “Why would you want to leave the ice wastelands?” Frezamon asked truly flabbergasted.

   “Our friends here are not made for arctic conditions”, Ryudamon explained. “We need to find food and shelter for the night so we can strategise on our next move.”

   Frezamon waved its ice pick in farewell. It bared his teeth and said: “Then goodbye and good luck on your journey!”

DexDorugamon

(Frezamon is a Digimon made up by me so I can’t present you a picture now.)

What happens if your (favourite) character comes to your country/city?

   “Oh how wonderful, Germany! Pretzels, Weißwurst, and potatoes! God, I love potatoes!”, Miyako exclaimed as she, Mimi, Hikari, and Sora were exiting Bremen Airport. She stood for a second at the curb, closing her eyes and inhaling (though mostly exhaust fumes), before stepping onto the bus that would take them to their destination.

   Their tour guide Susanne, a German chef Mimi had met on one of her cooking trips around the world, laughed. “You are aware that you are in the North of Germany. We do not eat pretzels and weißwurst, at least they’re not our national dishes. We eat kale and - Pinkel!”

   Hikari’s eyebrows climbed up her forehead. “Pinkel? Sorry, my German is really, really just rudimental, but as far as I’m concerned pinkeln means to pee. I doubt you eat anything related to pee!”

   “Of course not. Pinkel is East Frisian and, you may be surprised to hear that, East Frisian is more related to English than to modern day German. So Pinkel derives from pinkelt, or pinky finger. At least that’s one theory. It’s a smoked Kaszanka, made of pig’s blood, pork offal, and buckwheat or barley”, Susanne explained.

   Miyako and Hikari exchanged a look, wide-eyed. “Pork offal?”, they said in unison, sounding utterly disgusted.

   Susanne shrugged. “Sure. why let anything go to waste? I heard that head-to-tail usage of animals is very en-vogue again.”

   “Well”, Miyako drawled, “I think I’ll just stick to the vegetarian options then.”

[jouretnuit-nightandday]

Platonic prompt: Fatin and Dot hanging out, maybe studying.

Thank you! I do love their friendship <3 

--------

This is not how Dot had planned to spend her night: sitting in a barely lit corner of the library opposite Fatin, the two of them bent over the table, furiously typing on their laptops, each hiding behind a pile of books taller than them.

Not that she doesn’t love spending time with Fatin. But usually when they hang out, it’s in their small, shared dorm room, or in their favorite coffee shop on campus, or on the lawn by the commons, and they have alcohol, or snacks, or coffee. Usually, hanging out with Fatin means watching a dumb action movie, or some reality TV show they can make fun of ; sometimes, it involves FaceTiming one of the other girls to chat about their lives, or playing Mario Kart, or Fatin laying on Dot’s bed and rating all the guys in their classes, from most likely to become Dot’s ideal boyfriend, to least. And then doing the same for the girls, even though Dot reminds her that she’s straight approximately three times a day.

Usually, they’re not scrambling to piece together their papers for the mandatory Intro to Philosophy class, papers they both completely forgot were due the next day.

“Oh my God, my back is killing me,” Fatin grumbles, stretching her arms above her head. “This is worse than lugging my fucking cello around. I don’t think any of my vertebrae are aligned.”

“Hm,” Dot says, eyes fixed on her screen. Her vision blurs for a moment, and she blinks. “Fatin,” she says, still looking at her screen. “Do you remember when Nora said I might need glasses?”

“Yep.”

“Turns out, maybe she was right.”

“She often is.”

“Fuck.” Dot presses the heel of her hands against her eyes. “I can’t do this. I’m so tired.” She huffs, and looks miserably at Fatin. “What are the odds Leah would write this paper for me tonight if I asked, like, very nicely?”

Fatin peers at her above the edge of her laptop. “Zero.” But she must take pity on Dot, because she closes her laptop and leans half on top of the table, chin resting on her crossed arms. Dot snaps her own laptop shut, pushes it aside, and mirrors Fatin’s position. “We can take a break,” Fatin says, in the small space between their faces. She looks as tired as Dot feels, bruised skin under the eyes, something tense in the line of her mouth. They’ve been at it since the afternoon, only taking the tiniest of breaks to gulp down some dinner, and Dot hasn’t even finished a first draft. Fuck, she’s so screwed.

“How much did you write?” she asks Fatin, voice muffled against the sleeve of her sweater. 

“Some. definitely not enough.” Fatin grins. “Wish I could have whatever Descartes was smoking.”

Dot snorts. “Please. This dude lived in the 1600s, weed would have probably killed him on the spot.”

Fatin giggles, and someone shushes them, from the other side of the room, and somehow that makes them laugh even harder. They try, with dubious success, to muffle the sound in their arms. 

“I think we’re delirious,” Fatin says, when they’ve calmed down. 

“Yeah, I’m for sure high on caffeine and sleep deprivation. Summer break cannot come fast enough.”

“Fucking right.”

There’s a silence. Dot thinks about their plans for the summer - the eight of them, in a house in Malibu, paid for with all the money they got from winning the trial against Gretchen Klein last winter. Fatin and her will drive from UCLA, which is by far the shortest trip. And then Dot plans on doing nothing but drinking cocktails, grilling burgers, and maybe finding a hot boy for a summer fling. This year has been exhausting, mentally and physically. Exhilarating, in many ways, but fucking exhausting, and she’s about ready to sleep for a million years and not worry about papers and exams and presentations. 

“Sometimes,” she starts, and swallows, not sure how to say what she wants to say. Fatin gives her an encouraging little nod. “Sometimes, I still can’t believe I’m going to college. Let alone UCLA.” She exhales. “Wish I could tell my dad about it, he would be so fucking stoked.”

Fatin stretches an arm out, and grabs Dot’s hand. “He’d be proud,” she whispers. Her eyes are very kind, and Dot, overwhelmed by a sudden wave of affection for her friend, gives Fatin’s fingers a grateful little squeeze.

“I couldn’t do it without you,” she says, sincere. Fatin scoffs, as expected, but Dot frowns. “I’m serious, dude. I can’t imagine doing this with anyone else. I love all the girls, but you’re, like, my best friend, and not to be corny, but I’ve never had a best friend before, so it means a lot that we’re doing this together, all of it, even sitting our asses down at the library for an all-nighter trying to figure out something interesting to say about the fucking Discourse on the Method.”

“I’m glad we’re doing this together too, Dorothy,” Fatin says softly. Then she grins. “I’m sure failing this class together will be, like, a super important bonding moment for our friendship.”

“Shut up,” Dot groans. “If I get higher than a C on this thing, I’m putting up a poster of Descartes in our room.”

“Ugh, gross,” Fatin protests, but there’s a smile dancing at the corner of her lips. 

Dot sighs. “We should get back to work.”

“In a little while,” Fatin says, softly. “First, let’s rest our eyes for a second.”

Dot hums. She closes her eyes, and keeps holding onto Fatin’s hand as she listens to the slow, even breathing of her best friend.

(They’re woken up an hour later by a very angry librarian, who scolds them about falling asleep, and then ejects them mercilessly from the library. They wander back to their dorm, arm in arm, and Dot makes coffee on their little - illegal - coffeemaker, and they spend the rest of the night finishing their papers, each at their respective desk. Fatin gets an A-. Dot gets a B, and, as promised, buys a huge poster of Descartes to hang in their room, and Fatin pretends to be mad about it but Dot knows she secretly loves it.)