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darlingshane · 4 months ago

Text

do-over

Michael Berzatto x F!Reader

Summary: Thanks to your friend Claire you get a chance to rectify a mistake you did many years ago when you went out with Michael the first time around.

CW: 18+, smut, some angst, making out, vaginal sex, smoking, drinking, Michael is a recovering addict, talk about addiction, reader has a secret, old friends, confessions, scars, pet names, brief appearances of Carmy, Richie and Claire.

Word Count: 6,2k

A/N: I realized after writing this that I made Michael younger by saying reader was friends with Claire, and implied that they were all close in age, but it's all really vague. The timelines don't make sense in The Bear anyway, so don't look too closely. This was just for fun. -- Also, reader has a nickname. Don't ask me why, it just came out like that. They simply call her Zu or Zuzu.

— Links: AO3 // Michael Masterlist.

“You remember Mikey and Richie, right?” your friend Claire asks, pointing at the two guys coming into the backyard with Carmy to join the party.

“Hm. I think so,” you say casually before taking a long sip of your glass.

You do remember both, actually.

Michael especially.

It’s hard to forget one of the most embarrassing nights of your life. It was over a decade ago when you had the slim chance to make out with the guy you’ve had a crush on for years and only accomplished to make a fool out of yourself.

It’ll forever haunt you.

Michael finally asked you out at the end of your senior year, and you said yes. You went to a movie, got some food afterward, then you ended at a house party from one of his friends. Everything was going great, you were dancing and laughing, he got close, you got closer. You started kissing and then ended up in one of the rooms. Door closed. That was it. It was only you and him making out and everything was going perfect. It seemed like a dream to find that he wanted you almost as much as you wanted him. Perhaps he wasn’t into you as you were, but it was hard to think critically at that moment with his hands and lips all over you.

Now, you had fooled around before with the only guy you ever dated in high-school, but you never went all the way or ever touched you like Michael’s hands did. And given your inexperience in the field, only a few minutes of heavy petting, and you were ready to explode. There was a surge awakening something in your core that you weren’t too familiar with. Not even your own fingers ever managed to make you feel something that powerful. And when he started pressing himself between your legs that pressure building between your thighs decided to set itself free. All of a sudden, you were clutching your knees so hard to his hips, your whole body trembled underneath as you came in your panties.

You’ve heard about boys precociously coming more often than not, but never realized that was something that could happen to girls too. It made you feel nothing but pure embarrassment. You tried to hide it but all the magic was gone. And after that, you excused yourself to the bathroom to put yourself together and couldn’t handle going back to face him. So, you sneaked out the bathroom window like the biggest dork.

You never talked to him again after that.

Back then, you all ran in the same circles, but you stood away from those circles during the last couple of weeks of school to avoid running into him again. You saw him from afar a couple of times and that was it. Soon after, everyone went on separate ways for work, college or wherever they end up. You, for example, left Chicago after graduating and ended up living a good chunk of those years in Denver. The few times you’ve come to your home city, you never really tried to see him again. You ran into Natalie a handful of times, and saw Carmy when you were visiting Claire but never crossed paths directly with Michael again until today.

“Zu… you and I both know that you do remember him,” Claire nudges your elbow. “Don’t tell me you still wouldn’t hit that today if you could. And you’re single now, so…”

“Please, tell me you didn’t set this up.”

She doesn't deny it, just gives you that obvious look under her framing, evil, perfect eyebrows. Claire knew pretty well you were head over heels for Michael Berzatto once upon a time, but you never told her about that night. It’s probably safe to say he didn’t tell anyone about it either. Otherwise, you’d have heard about it by now. Someone would’ve teased you about it for sure, but no one ever did.

It really takes you aback to see him once more.

You wish she’d have given you the heads-up so you could prepare mentally to see him again. Though, it was a long time ago, you’ve often looked with regret at leaving him hanging. You’ve wondered way too many times what he thought about that night. It's not like he was infatuated with you, as far as you know. He never showed any interest before that week, so it's hard to imagine him being too heartbroken about it.

Carmy glances around looking for the two of you. Claire lifts her arm to call his attention.

“Oh, look, here's your chance.” Your friend teases you as they come closer.

“Cool it, C, please?” you say between teeth and throw back your cup before the three of them come to a stop in front of you.

She beams as Carmy quietly greets you with a one arm short hug.

“You made it! Thought you'd be too cool for a thing like this.”

“Nope, we're two fucking losers showing up at a kegger cause we got nothing better to do,” Richie chuckles. “What are we celebrating again?”

“We're not celebrating anything. We're here for moral support for Kerry. Her boyfriend just broke up with her, and she needed some people around.”

“And you thought that throwing a keg party was a good idea?” Michael finally opens his mouth and his voice just transports you back to that unforgettable night and that last thing he said to you…

You smell so fucking good.

It echoes in your head. It's printed on your skin how those words vibrated when he was tongue-deep devouring your neck.

It’s hard to keep your eyes off Michael. He still has that alluring presence that mesmerized you the first time you met him. Even more so, you'd say. His features are sharper, his stubbled jaw makes him look more rugged than you remember. Though you miss his mop of curls, the crew cut and the fade on his nape suits him really well. His outfit hasn't changed much from a casual t-shirt with jeans. You take in every detail in a once-over. Your stare lingers for a moment on the way the hem of his short sleeves hugging tightly his toned biceps, and how his veins draw the length of his arms. His shoulders seem broader in his relaxed stance. There's a tiny scar adoring his cupid's bow that you only see when he runs his tongue across his lips.

You have to make an effort to tear your eyes away from him before turning into a total creep.

“You guys remember Zuzu here, from school?” Claire's head tilts in your direction while the younger Berzatto links an arm around her waist.

“You two were practically inseparable, how could anyone forget?” Says Richie again, offering his hand up to you. “It's good to see you again, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, it's good to be back,” you shake his hand firmly and then hold it up to Michael, and try to keep your pulse steady when he wraps his large paw around yours.

“You've moved back?” it's Michael that asks this time, trying to lock eyes with you, but you refuse to let him.

“I'm in the process of it. I'm staying with Claire for a couple of weeks while I get all my stuff back, and set up everything…”

You explain while Carmy fetches three cups from the table. He fills them using the keg’s tap, and brings them over. He hands one to Richie. Michael waves his off and lights up a cigarette instead.

“You should ask her to hang out sometime. She doesn't know how to have fun anymore.”

Daggers shootout of your eyes when you glance at Claire.

“I'm here, am I?”

“Yeah but you don't seem to be enjoying yourself.”

“I mean you brought me to the most depressing kegger I've ever been to. I didn't know people still did this, but they're lamer than I remember.”

“Pfft, she's got a point there,” Michael scoffs. “I can come up with a hundred things on the spot that would be better than… whatever this is.”

“It was last minute. What would you guys have done, huh?”

“DJ for starters,” Richie chimes in.

“Food,” Michael adds.

“Better beer,” Carmy suggests.

“Strippers,” you say, and they all burst into laughter.

“I could definitely go for some strippers,” Richie holds his hand up for you to give him a high-five, and you quickly smack his palm.

While you empty your cups gulp after gulp, you chat with them for a bit, noticing more often than not Michael staring at you even when you're not the one talking. Maybe it's only in your head, but it still makes you anxious to find his eyes glancing at you as if he was trying to figure you out.

It's certainly not only in your head, cause when your phone beeps in your pocket, you check it out to see a text message from Claire who just coincidentally has her phone in her hand right next to you.

Be careful, big bear is checking you out. — it reads on your screen.

Raising a brow at your annoying, dear friend, you shake your head before typing.

Did you tell him anything about me?

I’d never sell you out.

. . .

You start typing a response but your phone starts ringing, and it’s a call you must take. So you hold that thought, and go find a quieter place away from the house by walking out to the street and pace slowly down the pavement while you talk to your mother for a couple of minutes.

When you go back inside, the group has split. You go around the house to find Richie playing poker with some guys at the dining table. Carmy and Claire are talking with Kerry on the couch, and when you look to the side you spot Michael leaning against the archway between the living room and kitchen, lighting up a second cigarette before seeing you there standing. He gives you a quick nod, and you can only nod back, and turn around to press your teeth on the brim of your solo cup until it rips.

Being here in this house, this room with all these people and music playing feels like a time capsule. It transports you back to that time. As much as you've grown out of your old self, you can help but feel that old awkwardness creeping in to undo all the work you’ve done to come out of your shell.

When you discard the cup, you go upstairs to find a bathroom since the one in the hallway was occupied. Once you're done in the bathroom, you come out to find Michael climbing up the same stairs before crossing paths with you.

“Hey, Zuzu.” His lips quirk up as you both stop in front of the other.

“Hey,” you say back.

“Thought you left.”

“No, I just went to the bathroom,” you use your thumb to point at the door, as he leans back on the wall behind him, crossing one foot over the other.

“So you know where the bathroom is?”

“Sorry?”

“Last time I saw you, you said you were going to the bathroom but never came back. Figure it was your version of the old dad excuse of – I went out for cigarettes. And then ran for the hills.”

He’s smiling, but his tone sounds passive-aggressive, and you can’t tell at all if he’s joking or not.

“Oh, you remember that, huh?” You choose to believe he’s kidding around.

“I haven’t thought about it in a while. Then I saw you here… I wasn’t going to say anything but I… I guess I’ve always wondered what happened.”

“Why? Did I hurt your ego?”

“No, my ego’s intact. But I got really worried when you didn’t come back. Thought maybe I made you feel uncomfortable or something… I just… You don’t owe me anything, but I just wanted to know if you were okay.”

With a long sigh, you prop your back on the opposite wall and collect your thoughts.

This is it. Your moment to explain if you want. You have nothing to lose. The fact that he remembers could mean that he liked you more than he led.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Michael. It was me… I uh… I felt like I didn’t know what I was doing. I had never hooked up with someone like that until you. I had some experience, but not that kind of experience if you know what I mean.”

You pause and he nods kindly at your confession.

“I guess I was afraid of going too far, or not going far enough, or disappointing you. I wanted to go back so badly, but I couldn't.”

“You could’ve told me that. You could've said– hey, maybe we should slow down… I’d have never pushed you to do anything that you didn’t want.”

“I didn’t know that. I’m not good at reading people. Guys especially. I wasn’t sure how you’re going to react, and I just bolted. I’m sorry.”

“Nah, don’t apologize,” he waves you off. “I get it.”

“It was one of those moments that I wish I could go back and do things differently, you know? I've done a lot of things in my life that I regret, but that one was just embarrassing.”

“Don't beat yourself up, sweetheart. We were kids. There's nothing to be embarrassed about anymore. Sorry I asked… Didn't mean to make you feel bad or anything.”

“It's okay.” You pause and bite the inside of your cheek for a moment. “Can I ask you something now?”

“Shoot.”

“Did you even like me? Or was it like a one time kinda thing?”

He bashfully scratches the back of his head before answering.

“I asked you out, didn't I?”

“That's not really an answer, Berzatto.”

“Of course I liked you. I always thought you were kind and funny and easygoing. And yeah, for a moment I really saw us together. Is that a good enough answer for you?”

“That's perfect…” you sigh, glancing at the floor for a beat. “Talk about bad timing, huh?”

“Hey, we could have a do-over.” He suggests.

“Tell me you’re joking.” You scoff.

“Not if you want to. You said you wish you could go back… I’m down if you’re down.”

“That easy, huh?”

“Yeah, why not? I hate when people complicate things. I’m not seeing anyone, Claire said you aren’t either… It’s easy math for me.”

“And I thought I was the crazy one,” you chuckle.

“Is it crazy? Think about it. What are the odds of you and me running into each other over a decade later? It seems like fate to me.”

“Hm, fate looks a lot like Claire.”

“So what if she played a hand? She didn't know that I'd show up for sure. I almost didn't. If it wasn't for Paulie coming to cover Gary's shift, I'd be stuck at the shop right now.”

“Maybe you're right.”

“But?”

“No buts. I just… I'm not the same person you knew. Maybe I’m not as easygoing, kind and funny as I was.”

“I’ll be the judge of that but hey, I'm not the same person either. We could just hang out and see if we like those people. What do you say?”

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to try.”

“Yeah?” the corner of his mouth pulls up.

“Yeah, it just so happens I'm free today. I could come over later if you want.”

Since you're staying at Claire's and don't feel comfortable bringing anyone to her apartment, you agree to meet at his place an hour after the party.

Once you’ve exchanged numbers, you receive a text with his address.

You use that hour to go by Claire's place and pamper yourself a little. You're not really sure if it's a date or not but in any case you prepare yourself mentally and physically as if it was. You've older now, and have more confidence and experience than all those years ago. It doesn’t matter if you haven't been with a guy in a while, you can't pass up a chance at a once in a lifetime opportunity to rectify that awful night. Or at least replace it with a new memory. Hopefully.

Claire comes back just in time to see you doing your makeup.

“You going out?”

You nod as she leans on the bathroom’s door frame.

“Michael? Wow, you didn’t waste time. I left you alone for five minutes. See, I was right. You two would be perfect for each other.”

“Don’t ring the bells just yet. We're just hanging out.”

“Does he know about Sam?”

“No, I don't think so. Unless you or Carmen told him. I can’t keep track of what you guys tell others.”

“We didn't. It's your story to tell. But I'm just saying, you don't have to keep it a secret.”

“It's not a secret. It just didn't come up.”

“Well, you should give him a chance, he might surprise you.”

“I'll try.”

It's the last thing you say before heading out to meet Michael.

On the way there, you think carefully about what Claire said and decide to tell him upfront about Sam. It shouldn’t be a dealbreaker. You’re just hanging out. But because you know guys, and you’ve been burned in that department before, you ready yourself for any outcome.

Michael offers you a drink after closing the door to his apartment. You can tell he’s done the same as you. He’s showered, his hair is still damp, his face is clean-shaven now, and he’s wearing a different t-shirt now sans The Beef logo.

Opting for having a drink, he pours a tequila shot for you on the breakfast bar after giving you a short tour of his one-bedroom apartment while he sips from a mug filled with fresh coffee.

“I uh… I have to tell you something,” you start after downing your shot and sitting on one of the barstools.

“Oh.”

“I don’t do this often, you know? Going to a guy's place like this– I mean, I have. A couple of times. But this isn’t a frequent occurrence in my life. Or a priority.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but he doesn't. He stares at you instead, asking you to keep going with his curious gaze, as he leans his forearms on the counter.

“This shouldn’t affect you but for the sake of honesty, I thought you should know that I have a daughter.”

“Why would that affect me?”

“Like I said, it shouldn’t. But a lot of guys tend to get weird upon knowing that about me.”

“Well, that's on them. We agreed this was just to get to know each other, right? We can't do it if we pick and choose the parts we want to share.”

You nod firmly. “You're right.”

“Can I ask how old she is?”

“Yeah, she’s three. She called earlier, well, my mom did, and said she was having so much fun she wanted to stay the night.”

“That’s beautiful, Zu. Guess you have to take your chances whenever you can, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“And the father?”

“He’s not in the picture. He pays for the frame, but he’ll never be in it.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“His loss.”

He props a hand on the edge of the bar, using the other to pick up the bottle and fill your empty shot glass.

“If we’re laying our cards on the table, I think it’s only fair to confess something too before moving forward.”

Now it’s your time to give him the same curious look he gave you before as he explains.

“I don’t do this often either. At least not as much as I used to. And I’ve never said out loud this to anyone that wasn’t in a room filled with people like me… Not even my family.”

You can see he’s struggling to find the words and courage to admit something, but you don’t push on it until he’s ready to say–

“I’m a recovering addict.” His voice is even, tinged with a dab of shame. But he looks you directly in the eye to gauge your reaction. “It’s been almost a year and just starting to feel back to normal. Or whatever that means. A couple of months ago I wouldn't have felt confident enough to invite anyone here. Hell, going to a party would’ve been unthinkable for me… But I’m still trying to figure it all out, you know? If that’s a dealbreaker for you…”

“It’s not. I wasn’t expecting that, but I’m glad you told me. I uh… I hope this question doesn’t come across as judgmental but is it safe for you to keep alcohol in the house?” you point to the tequila bottle.

“Alcohol isn’t my poison,” he scoffs. “But I don’t drink anymore either if I can help it.”

“You go to meetings?”

“Yeah, NA. Every week.”

“And your family doesn’t know?”

“They know some of it, but not how bad it got.”

“I feel out of my depth here but wouldn’t it be better to have someone close to talk to?”

He shrugs, “you know the Berzattos. We all have problems, we’ll rather pretend everything’s good than to admit we’re all batshit.”

“Sorry for prying.”

“No, it’s fine. I opened that door. Richie knows though. He’s seen the worst of it, has picked me up many times when I couldn’t even get up. He’s always been there, even when he doesn’t know what to say.”

“That’s good. And if it helps, I don’t think you’re crazy. It’s brave to admit that you have a problem, let alone face it on your own. Takes courage.”

“Guess a single mom would know a thing or two about courage.”

“I suppose so,” you gaze at your shot glass before tilting it over your lips.

“One more?”

“No, no. Two is enough for me. Thanks.”

You stare at the other, not sure how to proceed after that. Shit, maybe you went too deep too fast, but it’s good to have everything out in the open. If anything, it only makes him more attractive to see that he can look at his own flaws and own them. Most guys you’ve ever been with never had the balls to look you in the eye and confess something so fucked up and personal.

“Do you wanna keep talking or should we try…?” you trail off.

“Whatever you want sweetheart. I love talking to you.” He lifts his coffee mug up to his lips and takes a long sip.

“Is that a line?”

“No, it’s the truth.”

He grins, placing his mug down, and you just know it’s definitely a line by the way his lips curve up lopsided. Which you don’t hate. Though you like talking to him as well, you’d rather be doing something else than spend all night rehashing all your problems.

Standing up from your barstool, you go around the bar to face him closer. You lick your lips and tentatively cup his face before placing a small kiss on his coffee-tainted lips. His face heats up beneath your palms, and you watch his mouth curl on both sides before locking eyes with him. It’s not until you look at him up close that you can notice the difference in his beautiful browns from all those years ago. They were once eager, sparkly, and mischievous. There’s still some of that, and much more depth than you remember. There’s a lot of sadness too, and a new shade of tenderness you haven’t seen in anyone before.

“Do you think you can kiss me the way you did last time?” Your mouth draws a smile.

“I think I can do better.”

“Yeah? I’d like to see that.”

You both laugh for a beat before noticing his knuckles caressing your neck.

“Do you wanna go slow?” His fingers trail slowly up to your jaw as you nod a “yeah, slow is good.”

Fast would be okay too but you wanna taste this moment like you never got to.

As your hands slide down to hold his sides, his palms reach up to cradle your face. His head leans to the side at the same time his tongue juts out to wet his lips. His face dips, quickly shortening the distance to your mouth to capture the flavor of your kiss. It seems like a terrible combination to mix coffee and tequila, but it works. Having his tongue stirring both inside your mouth is purely delicious. You swirl with him, gently, taking your time to get used to a new flavored cocktail that probably already exists somewhere. But this one is special, cause it has you and him putting that extra ingredient.

He was right, you realize. He's grown to be a better kisser than in that old memory that's been torturing you for years. You have to keep your mind out of that night. This is a different time, different day, and two different people that have nothing to do with those old versions of themselves.

As the kiss grows tiredly eager, you both start panting for air between the sloppy movement of your lips locked together. He parts momentarily to guide you toward the couch. He sits down, pulling you down to straddle his lap.

His palms land on your hips while you take the reins again and seize his mouth at once, wanting to swallow every single drop of that magical drink called Michael Berzatto. Your fingers curl around his neck, capturing his taut muscles bulging out at the hot rush coursing through his veins. His hands become anxious, greedy for more of you. They slip under the hem of your shirt at the back to feel the warmth of your skin.

There's a thread of anticipation weaving inside your body, sending your hips to grind over his denim bulge, making him sigh with groan when you hit the right spot. You do it again, and again, until you feel him growing between two layers of annoying denim.

The dirty work of your mouth becomes too wild to tame. Even for you. You've managed to hold yourself in the past when you needed to, but this time you're not sure that you want to hold back.

Michael's fingers fumble under your shirt to open the clasp of your bra. After a coup of tries, you feel the tight elastic decompress from your skin as one of his hands travels to the front to feel your breasts.

“Is this okay?” he mumbles into the frenzy of your tongue.

“Hm, yeah, that’s fucking perfect.” Your breathing catches as his knuckles softly brush the underside of your boob.

He's rock hard by the time his paw extends fully to mold one of your boobs to the shape of his fingers. Your nipple shrinks into a hard pebble under his firm touch. He thoroughly massages your flesh before switching to the other side.

You pull away from his lips to glance down at his hand enjoying its time in the valley of your chest. He seems either quite taken with it, or perhaps he's afraid of moving forward without your approval.

You clear your throat before suggesting. “Do you think we should move this party to the bedroom?”

“Yeah, I'd like that.”

You peel yourself off him to stand up and then follow him into his room. Before doing anything else, you pull up your phone from your pocket and place it on the nightstand to make sure you can find it fast in case it rings.

Michael moods the lights to just one on the night table with a soft glow of yellow and watches you taking off your clothes for a beat before mirroring you.

It's surprising how your nerves don't even present a threat at this moment, but you're not going to question or overthink right now why you're so damn calm when you lay almost naked on his bed.

You leave your panties on and prop yourself on your elbows watching him like prey as he slips off his shirt and jeans. His chiseled body is something to admire. You can tell he's been working out. Maybe to smooth that edge the drugs gave him. He was already a pretty athletic guy back then but didn't have the same defined shapes that now sculpture his body like a Greek marble statue.

Biting your lip you glance further down to see him push down his boxers to uncover his generous erection. You can't help but admire your own work, swelled to a nice shade of deep pink and pointing up to his abdomen between the grooves of Apollo’s belt.

Your knees push together, feeling your arousal pooling in your folds when he turns around to show you his buttocks. With his back on sight, he collects something from a dresser drawer.

There's a condom in his hand when he faces you again.

“You good down there, sweetheart?” he asks, his eyes casting a dark shade from above, adding more gusto to the overly sexual charge blowing off the charts before even touching each other's naked bodies.

“Uh-hm. Could I just first…” Before he can wrap his dick in latex, you extend your hand to feel his full hardness in your palm. You wait for him to nod and give you permission to curl your fingers around it to feel it throb and ache for more friction.

It's as unexpected for you as it is for him to have you openly telling him what you want to do. If there’s something you've learned from all your past mistakes is that sex is better when you can communicate what you want. Even if it's just a one time thing, it's better to keep an open line between you two. As much as you’d want him to jump on top of you and rearrange your insides, the build up is more gratifying to you than just getting things done as fast as possible. The buzz lasts even longer. And if this is a one time thing, you sure want to remember every second of how being with him felt.

Michael puts one knee on the edge of the bed and observes your kind hand sliding down his shaft. His eyes become glossy. A gulp moves his throat up and down as he swallows a grunt when you tighten your hold around him and press down tighter, coaxing a nice wet drop to spill out of his tip.

Licking his lips, he puts his hand around your wrist to stop you before you go too far. He wants to come. But he wants to do it with you tightly wrapped around him.

He removes the wrapper of the prophylactic and rolls it on.

When she realizes you still have your underwear on, he slides them down your legs carefully, as if he was unwrapping the finest china. He notices the faint scar left on your lower abdomen from your c-section and as Michael climbs on top of you, he leaves a trail of kisses from that scar up to your neck.

As his head is closer, you hook a finger on the gold chain hanging around his neck, pulling his face down to seize his lips. At the same time, he parts your knees to nestle in between.

Adjusting your position, you lay back on the mattress with him following your cue and letting your tongue invite itself past his teeth to keep savoring everything he has to offer as your hips fit together. When his cock presses against your clit you can’t help but jolt and grind against its solid hardness. The thin layer of latex collects your dampness as you do. You grip his sides as he uses the advantage of being on top of you to kiss you back with a burning ache that sets your core in fire the longer you rub against the other.

“How does it feel, sweetheart?” His voice tenses in his throat. “You like it like that, huh.”

“Yeah, it feels so fucking good.” But you can’t bear that thought for longer than that. You need him inside pushing past your entrance, stretching your walls to the shape of his erection.

“Fuck me,” you moan before sucking his lip into your mouth.

His hand snakes down your torso to taste with his finger the arousal covering your sex.

“God you’re so wet, sweetheart,” he purrs, probing a finger before smoothly burying himself inside you.

Your eyes shine behind a layer of gloss that wells up at the corners as he pushes a couple of times carefully until you get used to his size molding the shape of your walls.

After a few experimental thrusts, he lowers his body on top of yours, letting his weight do all the work as he gradually moves faster.

“You’re gonna make me come,” he pants over your lips, feeling the tight grip of your pussy contracting every time his cock pushes deeper inside.

“That’s the idea,” you wink at him as your palms slide down his back to grab his ass.

You keep eye contact with him and stay quiet as the only sound that fills the room is your skin meeting over and over until your moans seep in. You watch his forehead and neck quickly get covered in sweat beads. He takes a deep breath before letting his grunts join the symphony. His forehead falls on top of yours, as the rhythm of his thrust picks up. His muscles strain under your palms that go back up to hold tightly to his sides the closer he drives you to the edge. Your nails dig on his ribs pushing him thrust his hips even sharper. You can feel him throb and jerk inside you as he exerts his body for your pleasure. It’s easy to tell he wants to come desperately, but he holds and holds his release for you until you reach that point.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” there’s an edge of urgency in his breathless voice as he tucks one hand underneath to rub your clit and get you to come faster.

“I… almost… fuck,” you try to word something out, but you’re so close you can only cling to his sides as your body aches for a release.

The tears collecting in your ears trickle down your cheeks when you close your eyes at that very crucial point when your orgasm reaches the highest peak. The powerful force makes your body shake like a damn earthquake, leaving your core in shambles. One of his hands holds your trembling thigh, feeling its vibrations on his palm until it passes. At that point, he cannot longer hold his own, and the squeeze of your opening around his pulsating erection just makes him spill everything into the condom. His teeth are clenched on your neck, printing a loud grunt on your skin as he comes undone. Your pussy still contracts around him up until the final drop is ejected.

That sweet orgasm slowly ebbs, but the buzz in your head lingers for longer than that. He lazily stays on top of you for a minute until he can finally push himself off you.

Painting together, you stare at the ceiling as the breeze slipping in from the open window cools your body.

“That was…”

“Yeah.” He scoffs, half glancing at you with a giddy smile.

You don't really need to give it a word. You both know how amazing that was. It’s safe to say that this is how it was supposed to be. If you had gotten your way the first time around, it probably wouldn't have been nearly as good. And now you don't have to wonder anymore or feel ashamed for leaving cause this night definitely overwrites that fiasco.

When your breathing evens out, you both turn to your side and face each other to bask in the afterglow plastered on your faces. One of his hands slips across your jaw, as his thumb caresses your cheek when you place your head on the pillow.

Your face heats up as he leans closer to place a tender kiss on your sweaty temple. As his hand slides down your warm body, he watches it draw the curves of your body as one of his fingers sticks out around your hips to draw the scar he saw before peaking just over your pubic hair. You let him do it for a second before you put a palm over it. Then, he slips his fingers between your legs to seize the mess he’s made out of you. Your juices still cling to your skin when his fingers start circling around your clit.

“Can I make you come again?”

“Please,” you let out a half laugh and push your knee higher to make room for his wandering fingers that explore all over your pussy. His eyes stay fixed on yours as he easily takes you to have a quick orgasm. It’s not as explosive, but it’s a nice aftershock that leaves your body melting into the mattress.

#michael berzatto #michael berzatto x reader #the bear #the bear fanfiction #mikey berzatto #mikey berzatto x reader #jon bernthal #jon bernthal fanfiction #fanfiction #smut #darlingwrites

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gadawg-404 · 6 months ago

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On May 7, 2019, a disturbed student hiding guns walked into the STEM High School in Highlands Ranch, a suburb of Denver, Colorado. His intention was to kill as many students as he could.

He pulled out a gun and yelled, “Nobody move!”

Rather than being a helpless, frightened victim, 18 year old senior Kendrick Castillo, who was close by, attacked the gunman. Castillo was shot in the chest and died, but his actions inspired several other students to do the same and gave them the time needed to close in. The gunman was disarmed and held until police arrived to arrest him. The gunman is now serving life without parole in the Colorado Department of Corrections.

Kendrick was just three days away from graduating.

At the same time, that gunman’s partner entered the middle school across the street with the intention of doing the same thing. She (born female but claiming to be transitioning to male) was tackled and disarmed by a security guard and held for police. She is also now serving a life sentence in the Colorado Department of Corrections, but because she was 16 years old at the time, she is eligible for parole after 40 years.

Kendrick Castillo was the only death, though eight other students were wounded.

I intentionally did not use the names of the shooters. They do not deserve that recognition. This is a picture of Kendrick Castillo, a face that not enough people have seen and whose story not enough people have heard of.

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whocaresstillthelouvre · 8 months ago

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See The Road You're On

Elks Chapter 1 Version 2.0

Pairing: Jackson Joel Miller x Female Reader Chapter Rating: T. (Nothing explicit for the first few chapters.) Chapter Summary: The man you've had a crush on since he showed up to Jackson just so happens to be your favorite student's caretaker.. and he just saw you do a brutal face plant in front of his home. Chapter Warnings: soft jackson joel, outbreak and quarantine zone memories, ellie has a smart mouth, anxious reader, mentions of blood and an injury from falling, everyone lives happily ever after, joel and ellie don’t leave jackson, early 2000’s indie rock Words: 5,500 Header courtesy of @saradika-graphics

Next Chapter

Masterlist Playlist “Caring Is Creepy” - The Shins

The world ended the day after you bought your homecoming dress. You begged your mom for it–a beautiful deep forest green sequined sweetheart a-line gown–the neckline perfectly showed off your prized gold daisy pendant. You felt like a princess, life couldn’t have been better. Your alarm buzzed on the morning of September 26, 2003, the only worry floating around your teenage head was the grade you’d receive on your essay about René Magritte for AP English. While walking home after a typical boring high school day with your guitar slung across your back and headphones on, little did you know you were hearing the final lyrics before everything changed:

“Hold your glass up, hold it in Never betray the way you’ve always known it is One day, I’ll be wondering how I got so old, just wondering how”

Twenty years later, hardened by life in the Denver Quarantine Zone and gently softened by your now comfortable life in Jackson, you’re still waiting for your first dance.

Art and music have always been at the forefront of your life; you’ve never allowed anything to take away your creativity. Continuing to create no matter how much pain the reality of losing everyone you’ve loved to the plague roaming the earth brought you. You create for yourself using art as a way to soothe your thoughts and anxieties, you create for the Settlement of Jackson to give back to the town that has given you a good life for the past five years, and most importantly you create for your students at the school you’ve taught at since your arrival.

The fifteen years spent in the Denver QZ tried to steal your colors and mute your songs, joy became more difficult to find as each year behind the giant iron gates passed. The only sources of happiness were supplied by your small group of friends and your students in the desolate school you taught at. You never graduated high school, there was no pomp and circumstance, just a teaching job assigned to you because you were young and still remembered most of your high school education. That’s how your career was decided, funny how an apocalypse job search happens.

You tried to carve out as much of a life as you could under the overbearing and always watchful eyes of FEDRA soldiers, but it never felt whole. When the opportunity to leave Denver arrived thanks to your kind neighbor’s sister, you grabbed the few items you could and ran away from the only state you ever called home. Now, five years after your escape through the wasteland of the world to a better existence in Jackson, your life is now filled with art, music and purpose. Art supplied by the jars of paints you learned to make and what the patrollers bring you back. Music from the CD player in your house and the guitar you strum. Purpose from the weekdays spent teaching your impressionable students with actual well-rounded futures no longer doomed to become FEDRA fodder, along with the Saturdays spent working at the library you run out of your classroom. It's a good and comfortable life here, even if the nights are lonely and the only company you have in your small cottage are your cats Ripley and Penny. Some extra lonely nights, when the moon sits high atop the mountains, you can’t silence the thoughts that there’s nobody in your life who creates beautiful things for you. Too many nights you find yourself thinking about the man that lives down the street from you… Joel Miller.

He’s so intimidating, handsome and caged off, akin to an art piece you’d pay admission to be able to stand near. Your own little museum piece you keep to yourself now that museums are obsolete. You’ve never seen anybody more gorgeous… not even in the faded celebrity magazines you cut up to make collages and art out of. Soft and full lips always hidden under a frowning mustache that rests below a large hooked nose. His dark brown eyes often focused forward, always looking in thought underneath furrowed brows. Wavy hair that matches his eye hue with soft silver streaks painted throughout. His body is strong and broad, often hidden underneath a tan flannel lined jacket. He’s tall and big–so big–somebody who has always been a protector. His hands are also large to match the rest of his features with thick fingers that sit capable and dexterous… you can tell they’re efficient for any task you ask of them. His skin is golden, born that way and bronzed by years spent outdoors. The precious pages of your notebook quickly deplete when you try to sketch and master the lines of his face. Maybe you could get the minute details if only you could stop being so afraid of the feelings he stirs inside of you.

You’ve been enamored with him since he first showed up to Jackson– your life, and all of those feelings you’ve tried to avoid for years– upended by his presence.

It was a normal day, like any other, when you walked into the Tipsy Bison to drop off some extra shoelaces and push pins for the community swap basket. Your eyes paused at the long communal table where your friends Maria and Tommy were seated with two strangers. A small teenage girl with a tight pony tail and a tattered sweatshirt was talking animatedly with her mouth full. You know kids well after all your years of teaching, you could already spot her tenacity across the room. Sitting next to her bent over a plate of food untamely clutching a fork was a man with a mess of graying hair and a permanent scowl plastered on his handsome face. You noted his strong jaw as he chewed his food, his eyes stared straight forward void of kindness, you wondered when the last time somebody created something beautiful for him. He was the most handsome man you’d ever seen– so intimidatingly sized even in his seated and hunched stature. You quickly flitted over to the corner where the communal basket sat and deposited your items before turning around to head back to your home when you noticed the handsome stranger looking right at you. His eyes darted away right as your eyes widened at his focus before you made your hasty retreat out of the tense room. That night you wrote a song about a once warm and inviting cabin sitting in the woods now cold and desolate with tattered floor boards and a cracked window.

The girl you saw at the Bison with the handsome stranger showed up in your class the next week. Ellie quickly became your favorite student thanks to her love of art and her smart mouth. She’s always so eager to learn in the mornings before heading out with the other older kids for patrol and community training. She doesn’t shut up about your handsome stranger, he’s Joel, Texas born and raised, he’s grumpy, and he loves coffee. He’s not her father, but he’s her protector, everything she tells you makes you think about him more.

Sometimes you’ll see him walking down the road headed right towards you, a quick tuck of your head down or dash around the nearest corner helps alleviate the panic of being near him. One night you see him with Tommy at the Tipsy Bison in the corner drinking whiskey, your eyes stared unblinking before you realized how anyone could look over and see the way you’re ogling, you quickly created a reason to your friends why you needed to head home, to overwhelmed by his presence just a couple of rows down. Seeing him stirs up so many foreign emotions inside of you, but you like the rush. You like having your little crush, as long as you can keep your distance from him.

“Jeez, what were they thinking when they named these bands? The Shins? The Strokes? The Yeah Yeah Yeahs? Did every band just pick a random word and put The in front of it?” Ellie questions as she peruses your CD collection while you grade papers. With training for the older students canceled due to the winter snow outside, Ellie decided that you needed company in your classroom after school.

“Seems like it, doesn’t it?” you answer. “I’ll have to play them for you one day, those were some of my favorite bands when I was your age.”

“Really? Wicked! I’d love that!” she looks up from your CD book with an enthusiastic smile. You return her smile, happy for the bond the two of you share. “Joel loves music too, wonder if he’d like any of these.” Your pen pauses and your heart rate increases at the mention of his name, you feel foolish for the crush you have on your student’s “father.”

“I’m sure there’s something in there for everyone,” you say, stacking your papers and capping your pen. “I think we should get going, before the sun sets, El. I’ll lock up.”

“Aw man, there’s nothing to do at home,” she sighs.

“Sorry kid,” you shrug. “I’m helping Helen at the Bison tonight and I need to eat dinner beforehand.”

“Fiiiiiine, thanks for letting me hang with you, this was really fun,” she says as she grabs her backpack and jacket. “Bye Teach!”

Watching her leave, the thought plants in your head that she’s only a couple years younger than the age you were when the outbreak happened.

The world thaws when winter turns to spring, the sun stays up longer allowing patrollers a better chance to scavenge and bring their finds back. The wish list posted above the communal basket in the Tipsy Bison is filled with requests. Residents ask for a broom, a TV input cable, a glue gun, crayons, and other utilitarian items to help make life easier. You think about writing down the one thing you wish for the most, a new CD player. Your prized possession finally spun its last song a couple days ago making your home fall silent without your constant companion of music. The irony isn’t lost on you that your just as ancient guitar now lays silent against the wall, the crack on the neck finally broke from overuse. You don’t write down your main wish, instead choosing to note that the school needs chalk and you need a new oven mitt.

“Thought I told you not to touch my stereo kid,” the deep timbre of a Texas accented voice shocks you. Your heart begins to thud against your chest while goosebumps spread along your body; you’re frozen on the floor while you attempt to hide your internal panic. Joel is home. Of course he’s home, this is HIS home and you’re in it breaking HIS rules listening to your favorite mixed CD on HIS stereo system that’s much grander than your pitiful broken CD player. Why did you think letting YOUR STUDENT who’s half your age convince you this was a good idea?

“I know, relax! I’m being active in the community like you asked me to,” Ellie’s response drips with her unshakeable sarcasm.

Your head turns to find his deep brown eyes boring right into you, he gives you a half smile as you stare back at him, mouth slightly agape. Joel Miller is in Joel Miller’s house with you.

“This is the teacher I told you about, her stereo broke and I know how important music is to her–kinda like how it is to you. I invited her over so she could play me some of her stuff,” Ellie reasons. The kid is never not convincing.

You quickly stuff your CD case into your backpack and stand, trying to escape the anxiety of being here in the cozy Miller household with the not-so-cozy-looking Mr. Miller.

“Mm,” Joel grunts out before turning to you and reaching his hand out. “I‘m Joel.” His big hand envelops yours when you softly grab it to say hello.

You nervously give him your name, trying to calm your panicked heart. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep any boundaries... I-I really appreciate her offering to help me. My stereo broke a couple days ago and she knew it upset me.” You nervously stammer feeling like a thirteen year old in trouble again as you begin to fiddle with the gold daisy chain around your neck.

“Don’t worry about it,” he urges before looking at Ellie, “I can look past this if it means means you’re getting out of that damn garage.”

Ellie rolls her eyes, you wonder if every conversation they have is Joel putting a rule down and Ellie breaking it. “She has way better music taste than you have old man. None of that twangy sad music you try to get me to listen to.”

You start to feel antsy as Joel crowds the small space around you.

“I-I have to head out, I promised Helen I’d help her at the Tipsy Bison.” You’re not due for another hour but you can’t fathom the idea of being unwelcome in Joel’s house.

“Oh, okay. Well, you’re welcome back whenever you want… right Joel?” Ellie looks at him, angling her eyebrow, knowing she’s going to get the answer she wants from him.

“Uh— of course. S’pose any friend of Ellie’s is welcome here,” Joel hesitates with a smile, his deep brown eyes crinkle in the corners. He’s ridiculously handsome this close, it’s staggering.

“Thank you again Ellie, I’ll see you tomorrow, make sure you bring your notebook,” you say, turning to walk out the door.

You rush home, hoping the distinct woodsy smell of Joel’s house on your clothes will linger for a while. You almost trip when you realize you’ve left your favorite mixed CD in Joel’s stereo.

Weeks pass, and the weather gets warmer. Spring is in the air, the trees are covered in bright green leaves, flowers bloom along the vast gardens of fruits and vegetables, everyone’s days turn longer with more tasks to accomplish. There’s always a hopeful breeze in the air for everyone, no longer bunkered down and locked away by the snowy weather.

Your mixed CD is now a victim of your inability to be anywhere near Joel. Either Ellie decided to keep it for herself, or Joel's decided for you that you don't want it back, especially since you obviously crossed a line. In an odd way, it’s actually a nice feeling, kind of like old times when you'd forget a CD in your friend's car or in your locker over winter break. It's not like you have anything to play it on, your house is still silent, save for the purring of your cats or whatever song you can remember to hum to yourself.

It's a warmer day than usual, the sun shines bright and hot in the clear blue sky; all you can think about is getting home and taking a long bath after helping out at the community garden. Your hurried footsteps pitter patter against the warm asphalt in front of Joel’s house. Your heart always begins to race as it comes into view, once in a while you'll get to steal a glance of him leaving for patrol at the same time you're heading to school– those are good mornings. This sweltering afternoon you’ve certainly lucked out, he’s in his yard working on repairing a broken fence post. Your steps begin to slow as you see him set the hammer down, wipe the back of his hand across his sweaty brow, and stretch his back. Panic sets in at the realization he could look right over and see you in the state you’re currently in. You’ve been up to your knees in soil since school ended, watering and deadheading plants while letting the dirt on your skin bake in the warm sun. Your anxious steps pick up pace, failing to hop over the divot in the road you always remember to avoid. A trip and a fall ends with you landing hard on your stomach knocking the wind out of you. You can just make out the fall of heavy boot steps on the ground over the sound of your lungs gasping for air as you turn over.

“Whoa whoa whoa, you okay darlin’?” Joel asks. His broad body eclipses the bright sun when he bends over your body splayed out on the pavement. “S’alright, s’alright, breathe.”

You lose even more breath at the sight of him. The sheen of sweat against his skin makes it glow bright. This is the first time you’ve seen him without a jacket or flannel, there’s a constellation of freckles on his neck you’ve never noticed. His biceps strain the fabric of his short sleeves when he reaches to put a comforting hand on your shoulder. You can’t tell if you’re still panicking from your fall or the stress of Joel seeing you as pathetic as you think you look. He called you darling and you feel like a fool.

“I’m okay–I-I’m sorry…. I’m okay,” gasps out between breaths. You whimper from pain as you attempt to stand but it hurts far too much.

“Hold on, hold on, there’s no need to rush, you took a mighty fall. Ya’ got a big cut on your knee, let me help you,” Joel’s eyes roam you under brows wrinkled with concern.

“No, no, I’m okay really, I-I’m really okay,” you try to calmly assert, losing terribly against your rising embarrassment.

“S’alright now, I have some peroxide and bandages in my house, Ellie’d kill me if she knew I left you injured,” he implores reaching his hand out. "I want to help you, come here."

“I– okay,” you grab his hand, his strong fingers wrap around yours, oh god he’s so warm, “I-I don’t want to bother you.”

“Now, I’ll have none ‘a that, come on,” he helps you stand steadying you with an arm around your waist, the adrenaline of being this close to him makes a bit of the pain fade, though the humiliation remains.

He slowly leads you up his walkway, his hand lays splayed against your hip holding you tight. Your head rests against him close enough to feel the dampness of his sweaty shirt against your cheek.

He leads you into his house, the realization isn’t lost on you that this is now the second time you’ve been inside his home. Both times you’ve felt like an idiot. What is your luck?

You slowly sit down on his couch, Joel gently helps you settle against the cushions before placing a pillow behind your back for support. "You alright?” he asks, his voice drags heavily with concern. You nod, keeping your eyes focused on your bare legs, marred by dirt and gravel mixed with blood. “Just relax for a second, I’ll go grab everything." He retreats, his loud boot steps get fainter allowing you to take a deep breath and attempt to center yourself.

The last time you were in Joel’s home you were far too anxious to focus on anything besides Ellie and the music coming out of the stereo. Solitude now allows a chance to look closely at Joel’s living room; for somebody with so many stories swirling around town about his gruffness and irritability, his home sure is warm and inviting. Wood carvings sit on shelves, a couple of tattered sports magazines lay on the coffee table, a chipped owl mug sits atop a book on the side table next to a chair. All of it presents quite domestic and comfortable for a single man and an adopted daughter in the apocalypse. Your eyes roam along the beige walls and pause when you spot a familiar painting hung near the front window. An elk stands alone, amongst a field of flowers, large antlers reach into the light blue sky. You painted it just a few months ago, using your favorite water colors. You gave it to Tommy for Christmas, as a thank you for always making sure you have first dibs of paints that patrollers bring in. Why does Joel have it?

“Don’t have any large bandages but I got a gauze roll,” Joel startles as he takes a seat atop the coffee table across from you.

“That’s my painting? I painted that… for Tommy,” your inner thoughts escape your mouth, surprising you.

He turns and follows your eyes to the small piece of paper pinned on his wall. “You painted that? S’good. Saw it on my brother’s wall and asked him if I could have it, he was kinda reluctant but I told him how it reminds me of the painting I used to have over my bed before… everything.” The last word comes out as a huff, like he still doesn't know what word to use for these last twenty years.

“I love elks, they remind me of where I’m from… I’ve always liked painting the wildlife I grew up around the most,” your eyes remain focused on your painting. “Herds of elk used to live near my Dad’s home in the mountains, I used to hear their calls during the mating season.”

“S’nice to remember those small moments, I guess your painting helps me,” he gently muses.

“I’m glad,” you whisper.

Joel delicately lifts your leg up and places it on his lap, resting it against the soft strength of his thighs. Your heart feels like it’s going to burst out of your chest when you look down at this intimate moment with your dream man. Your breaths escape your mouth in rapid succession, your only hope is Joel blames your panic on the threat of the peroxide and not his close proximity.

“S’gonna sting,” he warns before pouring the clear liquid onto your knee. Your breath catches in your throat when it hits your sensitive skin and burns. You suppress a whimper and feel slightly dizzy at the sight of him bending forward and delicately blowing on your wound. His breath cools the heat of your burning skin but lights a fire inside of your body you haven’t felt in years. He glances up, his dark brown eyes stay focused on your face. “Doin’ alright?”

You nervously chew on your bottom lip and nod. “Y-yes, yeah,” you mumble, “I-I’m okay it just hurts a lot to move.” Heaven forbid you tell him the truth, that you’re acting this way because he’s the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen, and now his hands are on you.

"I know, that gravel is a sucker," he gently reassures, picking up your other leg and placing it on top of his lap. “S’bouta sting again,” he warns.

You try to focus on the burn of the peroxide and not on Joel’s fingertips resting against the back of your knee. He blows on the peroxide as it bubbles again, your heart skips a beat when his deep brown eyes meet yours again. You get the sense that he knows exactly why you’re responding the way you are.

He lifts a faded gray wash cloth up and wipes both of your knees with the utmost tenderness. He picks up the fabric bandage, and lifts your knee higher to rest your foot against his broad chest.

“Place a finger here so I can wrap you,” Joel directs just as gently as his touch, “let me know if it’s too stiff for you.” His hand tightens around your knee as he slowly unravels the gauze around your leg and bandages your wound. “How’s that?”

You bend your leg back and forth and place it on the floor. “Feels good, thanks.”

“Course,” he says, lifting your other leg higher to start. He smirks when you place your finger on top of the bandage without him asking, and begins to wrap the gauze around your other leg.

“I’d try to take it easy the next few days, give you a chance to heal,” Joel utters, tucking the bandage in and smoothing it down.

“I will. Thanks for all your help… you really didn’t have to,” your voice cracks in embarrassment.

“You don’t have to thank me, Ellie’d kill me if she found out I left you hurt in front of my home,” he cracks a smile at the mention of her name. “She talks about you a lot, I should be thanking you for giving her a reason to love goin’ to school.”

“She’s one of the best parts of my day,” your smile matches his when you think about her smart mouth, “I love having her around, she’s always so eager to learn and give her opinion."

“She's always showing me some new art way she learned from you or talking about a band she wants to hear that you told her about. You mean a lot to her.”

“She’s a special kid.”

“She is,” he says, his deep brown eyes look into yours. You’ve never noticed just how much his dark eyes glisten. Like the perfect color of black coffee.

The sweet shared moment turns more awkward as you both maintain eye contact and nod over your shared adoration of Ellie. It feels like he’s looking at you under a microscope.

You cut the tension and softly clear your throat before slowly rising from the couch. “Well, I should get going, I’ve already taken up enough of your time. I really appreciate everything.”

“S’no problem at all,” he quickly stands and places a steadying hand on your back before leading you to the door and down his walkway.

You spy his tools laying abandoned and strewn across the lawn. “I hope I didn’t keep you from finishing your fence,” you apologize.

“I’ll manage… take care of yourself,” his hand retreats from your back when he opens the gate for you.

“Thanks Joel, you too.” You really shouldn’t have looked back at him to get one last glimpse, he’s beautiful, especially now lit by the slowly setting sun.

Walking away from him as confidently as you can, you feel his eyes follow you the whole way. You’ve never been so thankful to see your little cottage, escaping behind the protection of your front door before you grin and grab your paints and brushes. That night you paint another photo of an elk, this time with golden toned fur and deep brown eyes.

Saturday mornings are always busy, running your library never allows you the luxury to eat pancakes at the hall like everyone else on the weekends. You’re always turning to the left rushing towards the schoolhouse while everyone takes a right heading to eggs, pancakes, and coffee. This particular Saturday you’re moving slower thanks to your injured knees and the large box of books patrol brought you from their runs.

“Mornin’," Joel shouts, quickly striding towards you from the hall exit. “Lemme take those for you.”

“Oh, hi,” you pause in your tracks when he stops in front of you and grabs the box out of your hands. “You really don’t have to take–"

“None ‘a that,” he shushes, effortlessly lifting the box of books higher. "Where are we going with these?"

"Just over to the school house for the library," you nod your head towards the little brick building.

“How are the knees doing?” he asks, slowing his gait to match your slower pace.

“A lot better, thanks.”

“Glad to hear.”

You fish the key out of your pocket, unlock the door, and let Joel follow you down the hallway to your classroom. You flick the lights on, fluorescent bulbs buzz illuminating your second home.

You sit in your chair to rest your already aching knees, you’d still be halfway to the schoolhouse if it wasn’t for Joel’s kind assistance.

“You can put the box on my desk,” you direct, rubbing your sore knee.

He places the box on your desk before his eyes focus on the bright mural on the wall behind your desk. “Wow, I haven’t seen something like this in a long time. S’beautiful,” he breathes out incredulously.

A grin lifts your tired face before you swivel in your chair to look at the mural. “Goodness, thank you. I just finished it a couple of weeks ago. I really wanted to make sure the kids had something fun and colorful to focus on while in class. It was hard for me to work in this plain, white room for so long. It took a long time to save up enough paint.”

He slowly walks over and places his hand on the cold cinder block wall. “Bluebells. The flower of Texas,” he faintly whispers.

His large fingers trace the outlines of your painted indigo petals, you feel like you shouldn’t be allowed to see this type of gentle tenderness coming out of such hard and strong hands. He delicately touched you like this when he bandaged your knees. There was once softness surrounding all of Joel, the permanent grimace and rough reputation for him brought on by the harshness of existing in this world.

He turns to you, keeping his hand on your mural. “Where you from?” he asks, curiously gazing into your eyes.

“I was in the Denver QZ.”

“No, where were you from before everything?”

“Oh, sorry. Still Colorado, just more in the mountains,” you say, concentrating on the columbine flower next to the bluebell. “Florissant to be exact. It’s a little town famous for dinosaurs. My students, especially Ellie, love to hear all about dinosaurs. I was very lucky to be where I was when everything–happened–just far enough to escape.”

“Nice state, I went skiing there once as a teen, had plans to go again before… everything,” he turns to look back at the bluebells again.

“Big of a Texan to compliment Colorado,” you jest, standing up and grabbing the library supplies from your desk.

He chuckles with a shake of his head. “Good one. Did y’know you forgot your CD at my house?”

“I did, sorry about that. I figured Ellie just decided to keep it for herself. I don't mind, not like I have anything to play it on right now,” your voice drops thinking about how long it’s been since you’ve heard your favorite songs.

You begin to place down your hand painted placards on the tables.

He walks over and picks one of the cards up and admires it. “Can I help you?”

“If you want, just pick up a pile of books and put them on their respective tables. Children’s, Mystery, Romance, Non-Fiction, Sci-Fi, Miscellaneous.”

He dutifully picks up a stack of books. “You do this by yourself?”

“Usually, I sometimes have help but I think everyone here works so hard during the week they like their slow Saturdays, I can’t ask them to give up sleeping in.”

“Sleeping in, must be nice. Can’t do such a thing. Ellie would sleep all day if I allowed her.”

“You’re right,” you say, squeezing by him to grab a pile of books. “Must be nice.”

He holds up a thick paperback with yellow pages and a burgundy cover, a muscled, orange toned man with long blonde hair holds a wispy brunette damsel. “I take it with a title like ‘Burning Tenderness’ it goes in romance?” Joel winks. You’d never imagine you would ever see someone like him joke.

“Well, I’d fire you on the spot if you placed it in non-fiction.”

His bellowing laugh echoes across your classroom. You like hearing him laugh.

The library is set up a half hour before opening thanks to yours and Joel’s expeditious work.

You take a seat on the edge of your desk to rest your knees. “I’ve never gotten done this early before. Between your help earlier this week and today I feel like I owe you something. Is there any way I could repay you for your kindness?”

He sighs, glancing back at your mural. “Those bluebells you painted,” he inhales a large breath, “do you think you could paint some of those for me in my house?”

“Oh my, I’d love to,” your face lights with a smile. You can’t believe he’s asking this of you. “I can start it anytime.”

“D’you want to come over Monday after you’re done at the school? I told Ellie I’d spend the day with her tomorrow.”

“That sounds great,” you reply, not believing your luck that Joel Miller is inviting you over to his house.

“Great. Should probably head out and start my day. Taking this as payment for my work today,” he says holding up a book.

“‘As I Lay Dying?’ Didn’t pin you as a Faulkner fan,” you muse, opening your logbook to note the title down.

“Liked the horse on the cover.”

“You’re so Texas. It’s a good book, enjoy it Joel.”

“See you Monday. Good luck today.”

“Yes, Monday,” you respond, trying not to smile too hard. “Thanks again for all your help.”

“Course,” he nods before walking out the door.

Today’s going to be a great day, it already started out better than you ever could have hoped.

Back home after a busy day you sit in your favorite chair with your cats on your lap and sketch bluebells until you fall asleep with your pencil in hand.

See The Road You're On (Joel's Version)

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller/reader #pedro pascal #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #tlou fanfic #elks #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller tlou #joel fic #joel tlou fic #joel x reader

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chimcess · 6 months ago

Text

Waterlog || pjm (4)

Pairing: Jimin x Reader Other tags: Olympic Swimmer!Jimin, Ex Olympic Swimmer! Reader, Swim Coach!Reader Genre: Strangers to Friends to Lovers!AU, Coach!AU, Swimming!AU, HEAVY Angst, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, fluff, eventual smut, I'm so soft for these two it's crazy. Word Count: 11.8k+ Synopsis: After a car accident ends her athletic career, Y/N has slowly started rebuilding her life again as a high school swim coach. That’s until she gets a request from an old friend and finds herself back in the spotlight as the new coach of Olympic swimmer, Park Jimin. Warnings: ANGST, crying, mental health issues, talking about mental health, I'm so soft for them it's actually wild, best boyfriend Jimin, did I say angst????, past drug use, past alcohol addiction, past trauma talk, crying, anxiety, hand holding, touching as a love language, Jimin can't keep his hands to himself, he does try his best though, pining, sexual tension, banter, I love these two A/N: I know we're a couple of weeks late updating, but I've been very busy with moving so I haven't had the energy to write. I did a very quick edit, so this might not be perfect. I'm planning on coming back once I'm in my new place to do a full proofread. Hope you like the update!

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Hand clutching my phone, I sighed. All around me the airport buzzed with life. I had almost forgotten how hectic the Denver Airport was. A few feet away I saw a mother struggling to keep her children together while her husband scrolled on his phone. I must have made some sort of noise, subconsciously voicing my annoyance, because Jimin laughed.

“What’s going on, gran?” He teased, voice light. “See a couple of youngins on your lawn?”

I scoffed, tearing my eyes away from the family. “Just a shitty husband ignoring his children.”

He hissed, sucking in air through his teeth, “The worst kind of dude. Are you alright?”

Softening, I finally spotted my luggage on the conveyor belt. Twisting my torso, I did a light stretch and then quickly snatched the heavy bag up. “Not too anxious, right?”

He had been very worried about letting me come home for a visit. When I had originally brought it up he offered himself up for the job, but I was not a fan of that idea. My friends would definitely bring up our date and I did not want to deal with the awkwardness that would cause. Especially since we had yet to go on it. That would not matter to Hoseok, however, and the teasing would have been endless. Better to spare Jimin from their wrath for just a little while longer.

“I’m cool,” I replied, softening. “Just got my stuff from baggage claim. I’m going to let you go so I can call Andy.”

“Okay bug. See you in a few days.”

Harper had recently started calling me that, forgetting my real name and not caring enough to ask for it. Eloise had tried to scold her for it, but I told her I did not mind it. It caught on with Cameron not too long after that, and soon the entire Park family had started using the little nickname. Jimin thought it was adorable from the beginning but had only started using it after our talk the other night.

I laughed, “I’m going to call you tonight.”

“Aw,” I knew he had that stupid smile on his face. “Miss me that much?”

“Someone needs to make sure you’re staying out of trouble,” I replied, a confident pep in my step I had not had in years. “But yes, I do miss you.”

There was a pregnant pause.

“I miss you too.”

I could feel my heart melting. I was still getting used to our new dynamic. On most days we were strictly business, and were able to set aside the very large, very apparent elephant in the room. It was not until we had finished with work that those roles dropped, and we were able to just be us.

Ever since my confession in the car Jimin spoke a hell of a lot more. Apparently, he had a hard time keeping his feelings to himself and chose to talk a little less in order to avoid a slip up. He wanted to give us both a little bit of time to get to know one another before springing his crush on me.

“Going soft, kid?” Playing things off with humor was Jimin’s thing, but it had slowly started to rub off on me. “It’s only two days.”

“I know,” He pouted. “Call your friend. It’s cold and you’ll get sick.”

“Hey,” I cut the teasing tone I had, “You’re not upset I came here by myself, right?”

“No,” He chuckled with an unmistakable fondness. “I’m just messin’ with you. I’m not ready to meet your friends and you need some alone time. We’re good, I promise.”

I sighed in relief, “Okay. Good. I’m going to go now. Talk to you later?”

“Call me when you can,” He replied, voice light.

“Okay, bye.”

“Bye, bug.”

I was disappointed to hear the line go dead but knew I could aimlessly walk around this airport all day if given the chance, so long as he was there with me. Trying to get my thoughts back on track, I sent a text to Andy asking if she was here yet. If not, I was already making plans to call Jimin back.

Andy: I’m parked in 5 near C Gates

Andy: Be careful

Andy: Saw a lady almost get hit by a car just now

Me: See you in a sec

Me: Should I be worried?

I knew she was trying to make a joke, but car accident punchlines never went over all that well with me. Even if I knew the chances of that happening to me were almost zero, I really did not want to have a panic attack in the airport parking lot.

Andy: Not at all. I’m so sorry for even saying anything. I can come meet you at the doors if you want.

Deep breath. In. Out. In. Out. Deep breath. In. Out. In. Out. Sigh of relief. I was fine.

Me: I appreciate you

Me: Is babygirl here?

Dani would help the spike of anxiety dissipate. The girl was fearless and was sure to be distracting enough to keep me from paying attention to the oncoming traffic. I suddenly wished that Jimin was here. He always knew what to do.

Andy: Jin and I are weak

Andy: We let her play hooky

Bobbing and weaving through bodies, I tossed my phone into my purse and made my way out of the airport. The arrivals station was packed, and I would need to take the automated train to where Andrea was parked. It was my least favorite part about this airport, but it beat Dallas-Fort Worth by a landslide. I had gotten lost in that airport more times than I could count.

Three minutes later I was getting out of the train and stepping into C Gates. I could smell Auntie Anne’s and felt my mouth begin to water. Checking my clock, I decided it would not hurt to make a quick spot for lunch. Andy would appreciate it and I knew Dani loved their pretzel dog.

There was a little less traffic in C Gates. More of the expensive airlines let out here, and all you could see were business professionals pacing back and forth. A family on vacation bumped into me while I was waiting in line, and I almost gave up my spot when their toddler started screaming.

“No, no,” His mother insisted, her hair a mess on the top of her head. “Between the girls and my mom, we’ll be here all day. Go ahead, sweetie.”

Two little girls danced around me as we waited, the line moving at a snail's pace due to the airport being understaffed. They asked me questions incessantly, and while their mother had tried her best to keep them in line, I told her I was fine with the extra attention. I loved kids and the girls were harmless. The boy in her arms kept repeating “pizza” and soon an elderly woman joined them.

If the girls talked a lot, they had nothing on grandma. Not only did she never shut her mouth, she was loud and obnoxiously laughing every few seconds. The boy was quick to beg to be in her arms and mom got a break. She was back to attempting to corral the girls, but again they did not really listen.

“They’re only like this when my mom’s around,” She sighed, frustrated and tired. “We’re meeting up with their father and they’re all a little restless.”

“It’s no bother,” I lied. The girls really were not that bad. Just a couple of four-year-olds having fun. The only person who was really getting on my nerves was her mother, but I was not about to say that. “Better to get it out now than in the car, right?”

She cracked a tired smile, “Right.”

Finally, it was my turn to order. The young girl behind the counter gave me an award-winning smile while another young blonde was in the back getting all of the orders out.

“Hi, welcome to Auntie Anne’s. How can I help you today?”

“Can I get one original pretzel, one cinnamon sugar pretzel, and a pretzel dog combo with a lemonade and cheese,” Glancing behind me, I sighed. “Throw in a pizza pretzel, two orders of pretzel nuggets, and whatever else the family behind me wants.”

She smiled, blue eyes twinkling prettily in the bright lights. Turning around I waved the mother over and told her to get something for her and her mother. She put up a small fight, but eventually gave in when she realized I had already put our orders together.

“Thank you so much,” I thought she might burst into tears when my card was approved. “You really didn’t need to do that.”

I shrugged, “It was nothing. Have a nice vacation.”

Walking to the pickup area, my order was already waiting for me. With nothing more than a simple wave, I left the dysfunctional family behind. The grandmother’s loud thank you seemed to echo off of the airport walls, but it was a little less grating now that I knew I would never hear it again.

Andy threw herself at me when I finally made it outside, little Dani wrapping her arms around my legs with squeals of delight louder than her mother’s. Taking her pretzel, Andy gave me a fat, wet kiss on the cheek and told Dani she could eat in the car.

“How’s gymnastics, girlie?” I asked the little girl once we were in the car. “Still kicking ass?”

“No,” She laughed. “I quit, like, forever ago. Appa put me in ballet classes.”

I gave Andy a look. The red head rolled her eyes, fixing me with a knowing look. I had been telling Jin to put her in dance for years.

“It’s been two weeks and she’s already trying to talk him into figure skating.”

“You’re a little hustler, huh?” I reached into the back, squeezing her knee. Dani giggled, angling her body away from mine. She was very ticklish. “Keep at it. You know your dad’s a sucker.”

Dani laughed, “My vovó says the same thing.”

We listened to Olivia Rodrigo on our way to the Kim house. Hoseok and Matilda had planned a huge coming back party for me, and from what it sounded like, I was going to meet Tilly’s new boyfriend.

“Anything I need to know about Max?” I asked.

Andy was almost as in the dark about the guy as I was but was able to tell me he was a tattoo artist from California. The two of them met at Frank’s bookstore and by the end of their conversation Max had managed to get her out to dinner and in his bed. It was a whirlwind romance, one that made me feel uneasy about its foundation, but I was still obligated to be happy for my friend. They could be soulmates for all I knew, and I was not about to judge anybody else for their version of a first date.

“I don’t want to talk about tattoo guy anymore,” Andy whined playfully, turning up the radio when “Good 4 U” came on. “I need to know more about your little boyfriend.”

I groaned, “He’s not my boyfriend.”

This was why I was so adamant Jimin stayed away. We had yet to have a real talk about what we were, choosing to wait for our first date to iron out those details, but no one in my circle seemed to understand. All they heard was the word date and suddenly wedding bells started going off.

“Stop deflecting. We both know he’s your boyfriend, official or not,” She laughed, stealing looks at her daughter in the rearview. “What’s he like?”

It was a hard question to answer. On the one hand, I felt like I knew him better than anybody else, but I was self aware enough to know I didn’t. His body language, the way he looked when he beat his best time, and all of his preferred gear were seared into my mind. The movies he liked, his favorite albums, and all of the best tv shows ever made. He went to college. He was the sweetest, kindest, most understanding person I had ever met, and yet… he still felt far away. The shadows that oftentimes clouded his vision were still a mystery to me, and when he came into practice with a lost look on his face, I felt helpless. I knew him and yet I didn’t.

“He’s quiet,” I finally landed on. “Very nice. Always willing to help other people out if he can. You’d like him.”

Andrea scoffed, “That’s it? The first guy you’ve dated in years and all you can tell me is I’d like him?”

“We’re still getting to know each other,” I sighed. “What do you want to know?”

We spent the rest of the car ride going over the last two months' worth of pining. I told her about Fiona, Jimin’s family, and all of my new friends. She almost pissed herself laughing when I told her about the night he asked me out, making so many Hoseok and Tilly jokes I had a difficult time focusing on the story. Andrea seemed to be finished with her interrogation when we pulled up at her house.

Dani ran to the front door, her excitement about the party making any discomfort I had disappear. It was hard to feel uncomfortable with her around. Taking my hand in hers, the little girl shifted her weight from foot to foot, shouting at her mom to hurry up, and opening the front door anyway. Andy told her to calm down, and I just chuckled and went along with it.

The living room was filled with all of my favorite people, a large ‘welcome home’ sign hanging on the large, backwall. Underneath it was a huge table covered in food, a cake in the middle of it, and I had a feeling Sarah made it. Both her and Frank were the first people to notice me, their faces lighting up, and I let go of Dani’s hand in favor of embracing the elderly couple. The rest of the party comers erupted their voices loud and filled with love as they took turns passing me around.

“Missed you, Otter,” Hoseok murmured in the crook of my neck, hands secured around my waist.

“Missed you more,” I replied, releasing him and catching Tilly. “Jeez, girl. Trying to kill me?”

“Come meet Max,” She replied, dragging me away from Hoseok.

Max was a tall, lanky guy with black hair that fell down his back. His clothes were on the baggier side, all black, and I recognized the band on his t-shirt from the shit Matilda liked to listen to in the car. He smiled at me, and I was surprised to see him rocking adult braces. He introduced himself, his voice deep and warm, and shook my hand. They were baby soft and covered in tattoos.

“It’s great to see you,” I replied, genuinely meaning it. If I had to picture a guy more perfect for Tilly, I would come up empty handed. “Thanks for coming.”

He flushed, impossibly pale skin turning a bright shade of red reminding me of Jimin.

“Anything for Mattie,” He replied.

Huh, he had his own nickname for her and everything. I would need to hang out with Max more before I could say if I liked him or not, but so far, I had a good feeling. Andrea’s worries seemed a bit silly now. They really liked each other, and Tilly’s heartbreaking, dimpled smile made me feel more confident in her partner. They would be just fine.

The party was fun, and I ate more spinach and artichoke dip than was healthy. Hoseok and I talked about my afterschool visit tomorrow. The boys had a swim meet Saturday and the two of us were hoping we could tag team in order to iron out any issues they had been having. I was being placed in charge of the freshmen while Hoseok made sure the other kids were feeling confident and ready for the meet.

"Let's party!" Frank boomed, lifting a beer into the air.

I laughed, "Be careful, old timer. Don't want you to hurt yourself."

I thought of Jimin again. That sounded like something he would say. Surrounded by the people I loved, I laughed hard and partied harder. The plates of food came one right after the other, and I was happy that I still had a place here. Falling back into my step, I fit seamlessly back into the fold.

"Dance with me," Hoseok demanded, tipsy and red-faced.

"It's your toes," I replied, taking his head and letting him take the lead.

The other couples were already dancing and hooped and hollered as I awkwardly followed the steps. I was not always a bad dancer but lost some of my rhythm in the accident. Hoseok never minded and let me step on his feet without a single complaint.

"You look happy," He commented, spinning me around.

I smiled, "I am."

He smiled back, wincing when I stomped down on his toes again. I apologized, but he just held my hand a little tighter and kept moving. I hummed along to the song, filled with joy. He spun me again, and finally let me go when I slammed into Jin.

"Go get some cake or something," He laughed. "You're too dangerous to be out here."

I rolled my eyes, "I tried to tell you. It's your fault you don't listen."

"Don't need you anyway. I have enough swag for the both of us."

I watched, thoroughly amused from the sidelines, as he moon-walked around the living room.

I left just before midnight after staying behind to help Andy and Jin clean up. The others left a few hours before to get back to Denver at a decent time. My house looked the same as always, dark and empty, but I could tell the landscapers had been around. The grass was recently cut and edged.

The silence inside was deafening. I had always known my place was too big for one person, but after spending so much time in my little she-shed at the Andersons’ house, everything here just felt excessive. Tossing my keys in the bowl beside the door, I wiped my eyes and decided to just head to bed. I would only be here for three days. I would be back in Saline before I knew it.

Dragging my body upstairs, this sudden depression-filled fatigue made my shoulders feel ten times heavier. A chilling, almost insidious, hollowness began to spread across my body. I knew this feeling all too well and it made me feel pathetic. Could I not be on my own anymore? Had I really grown that attached to my life in Michigan? Finally getting into my bedroom, I realized that I had.

Saline was perfect. Living in Colorado Springs has always bothered me. The people here held more traditional values and making friends was difficult. I had Andy and Jin, but they were both very busy people. Andrea was a full-time nurse, Jin’s schedule was somehow even more erratic than his wife’s, and when they were off, they wanted to spend time with Dani. I was lucky if I saw them once every two weeks.

Hoseok, Tilly, and Minho all lived in Denver, and while I saw them more often due to the meetings with Frank and Sarah dragging me into the city, it was not like we hung out every time I was out there. Days would go by with me speaking at all, and most of my weekends were spent in bed sleeping. Working at the school helped, but I would never claim anyone from the swim team to be a friend. I was not in the habit of befriending children.

Living in Saline was different. Jimin was always there to make me laugh, and when he wasn’t, I had people like Taehyung and Sam to keep me company. Giselle was young, but we got along so well I often forgot about the difference in age between the two of us. Megan and Yoongi were Michigan’s own version of Andy and Jin, and I could see myself becoming good friends with them given enough time. No one had kids, no one was too busy trying to keep up with crazy expenses, and I could find a little house away from the rest of the world to spend my life in.

I thought of the Parks, a family who I had come to love more than I thought was possible, and the Andersons who took me in and always tried to make me feel comfortable. Eloise and her kindness. Luna and Cameron. All of them. I loved and adored every single one of them, and it was then that I finally let myself really think about what I wanted.

Did I want to come back here after I was finished with the season? Did I really want this massive house if it meant I had no one to share it with? No, I decided. Stripping out of my clothes, the numbness was being replaced with a different strange feeling. It felt suspiciously like hope. Excitement came to me so rarely it was foreign and odd, but nice all the same. Jittery, I took my phone out of my pants pocket.

“Hello?” Jimin’s voice was scratchy when he finally picked up.

“Sorry,” I muttered. “Did I wake you up?”

“Yes, but it’s okay,” I could hear him shuffling around in his bed. “Did you have fun?”

“Yeah,” I breathed, climbing into bed. Then, without thinking, I blurted, “I think I want to move to Michigan.”

I held my breath as I waited for his response. There was no telling how this conversation would go, but I was hopeful. Even if this whole date thing did not go very well, I was positive that we would be able to move past it with a little bit of time. We worked well together and if he was comfortable with it then we could continue working together. Regardless, there was always coaching at a school.

“Like, permanently?”

I nodded but after a moment of silence remembered he could not see me.

“Yeah.”

My stomach started to churn. As the silence on the other end began to stretch, the excitement I felt before faded. Even if I said Jimin and I could get past a potentially awkward break up of sorts, I would not pretend that the thought did not make me physically ill. We would never be the same if that happened. It would be something to think about if it came to pass before the Olympics was over.

“Did something happen?” He finally asked, and I could hear the genuine worry in his tone. “Are you okay?”

The fear shifted to hurt, irritation, and anger, making my eyebrows knit together.

“I’m fine,” I could not keep the bite from my voice. It was petty and wrong of me, but his insinuation that I was not in my right mind was insulting. It made me feel like a child. “Just- forget I said anything. I don’t know what I’m even talking about.”

“Don’t do that,” His steady calmness made me even angrier. “I’m only asking you because it came out of the blue, not because I’m not happy with the idea.”

Now I just felt silly. Here I was making these small revelations, waking him up from his sleep, and then getting snippy because he did not respond the way I had wanted him to. Ugh, I wasn’t even his girlfriend yet and I’m acting like Darcy. A shiver went down my spine. That was an insult above all others.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured, the attitude from a few seconds before gone as quickly as it came. “I got defensive for no reason. Sorry.”

He chuckled, the sound barely audible over the phone.

“I forgive you. Now, why do you want to pack your life up for good?”

That made me laugh. It was a sad, pitiful sound. One that did not hold my usual spunk. One I don’t think Jimin had ever heard before. It was impossible to feel sad when he was around.

“I forgot how quiet my house is,” I admitted softly. “I love my friends, but I think coming back just reminded me of how easily I was able to fall back into the routine of it all. Jin and Andy are parents, Tilly has a new boyfriend, and Hoseok and Minho are always so busy with their own lives that I don’t see any of them as often as I would like to.”

Turning on my side, I blinked back a few tears.

“It might sound stupid, but I really do love Saline. I like how busy I am and all of my friends. I bought this place with the hopes of kids and a dog one day, but I don’t think that’ll ever happen, and now it’s just rooms collecting dust. I just-” I let a tear fall, my emotions starting to bubble over. “I don’t like how lonely it feels out here.”

“Doesn’t sound like you like it there. Have you always felt like this?” He asked.

I shook my head, the tears free falling in between sniffles and shaky breaths.

“Not always. Ever since Namjoon died things have been weird. There was a point when I felt suffocated because no one would leave me alone, and then one day everything resumed, and I just got left behind. It was like I woke up and two years just passed me by.”

Jimin comforted me while I cried, telling me how much he hated to hear me so upset, while I worked on calming down. There had been a time in my life when I was not so emotional, but therapy had opened up a whole new side of myself I didn't know existed. Rubbing my face, I sniffled and sank deeper into my mattress. For now, the waterworks had stopped.

“You were recovering,” He soothed. “Your body needed time to heal, and you were traumatized. I don’t think anyone can blame you for zoning out for a bit.”

I hummed, “I know. Doesn’t make it easier to swallow.”

“I know how you feel. When I pulled out of the Olympics last time there was a part of me that felt like a huge failure, but my dad was there to help get my head back on straight. He doesn’t seem like it, but he’s a really great shoulder to cry on.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” My voice was like sandpaper. “James is the sweetest person I’ve ever met.”

I felt heavy. Worn. Used. My eyes begged for me to shut them, but we were just getting back into safer waters, and I didn’t want to burst the bubble. I yawned, covering my mouth and hoping Jimin could not hear the sound. He had gone quiet.

“Can I ask you something?” Jimin’s voice broke through the comfortable silence that had formed around us. “You don’t have to say anything.”

“Shoot,” I forced myself to smile.

“What happened to Namjoon?”

I closed my eyes. This was something I knew would come up sooner or later. My lip wobbled uncontrollably as the second wave of tears crashed over me. I hated talking about this, but I knew it was going to come up sooner or later. Jimin deserved the truth, and honestly, I wanted to tell him. Being vulnerable with someone felt good. Being vulnerable with Jimin was divine. He was always so ready and willing to go along with things, listening and watching my every move, and trying his best to understand me. It was refreshing. It was nice. It was familiar.

“Was he in the accident with you?” He asked and his voice was so, so gentle.

“Yeah,” I croaked, finally finding my voice. “I went out with some of my friends and got pretty drunk. I was tired and ready to go home, but my ride didn’t want to go home yet. So, I called Joon.”

I sucked in a deep, loud breath. Jimin told me I could stop, that I didn’t owe him anything, but I ignored him. This wasn’t about owing him. This was about letting the guy I liked get to know me. This story was a part of who I was, as fucked up as that may sound, and I wanted him to get to know this facet of my life as deeply as he knew the present day one.

“Anyway,” I continued. “He offered to come and pick me up. Twenty minutes later I’m getting into his car and we’re on our way home. We’d just gotten engaged and bought our first house together- things were perfect. I had never been happier.

“We ended up taking the long way home because of an accident on the interstate. It was my idea, and Namjoon had a knack for going along with whatever I wanted. We were only two minutes away from the house when we got hit.”

I took a few deep breaths and wiped my face. Jimin was quiet on the other end. After a minute or two, I jumped back into the story.

“There was a four-way intersection around the corner from our place. Our light was green when we drove up. I don't think he thought to check if there was another car coming. He never even saw the truck. He, uh, died on impact.”

“Jesus,” Jimin breathed.

“The other guy was drunk as hell behind the wheel. Not paying attention. Funny thing is, he was the only person who didn’t get critically injured. Just a broken arm and a concussion. He wrapped our car around a light pole. My leg was pinned between the car and the light, and the airbag is what caused the brain injury.”

Jimin cursed under his breath, “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry that happened to you.”

“Yeah,” I gritted out. “Me too.”

He let me cry for a little while, saying over and over again how sorry he was and how he wished he was in Colorado with me. I did not have anything to say to him. It felt like my chest had been ripped open and my heart was on full display.

I never questioned how quickly we went from barely talking, to joking around, to sitting up late at night on the phone talking about life. It just happened. Clutching my phone in my hand, I let out a deep breath and held back any more tears from falling. I never said it, but I wished he was here, too.

“Hey,” His voice was gentle when he spoke, so fragile and sweet, that I had to force down the sobs threatening to come out. “I just want to say I’m sorry for how I reacted earlier. You wanting to move here is probably the best thing I’ve heard all fucking year, but I just didn’t want to sway your decision.”

Sniffling, I tried to tell him I wasn’t upset, but he shut me down almost immediately.

“Let me finish,” His voice did not leave room for argument. “I know I don’t act like I’m insecure, but I am. I can be selfish and self-centered, and I’ve always had to really work on those parts of myself.”

“I don’t understand what that has to do with anything,” I mumbled, curling into a ball beneath my blankets.

“Like I said, I can be a very selfish person,” He sighed. “There was this part of my brain just wanting to hear you say you were coming here and staying with me for forever. I didn’t want that to take over the narrative. And- no offense, but if you did move all the way out here just to date me, I think I’d be a little creeped out honestly.”

I snorted. Hearing that he felt the need to explain any of that to me felt like a small win, even if it did make an alarm go off in my head. It took courage to be that open and honest with another person, especially someone who just cried their eyes out. His compassion and understanding never failed to amaze me, and I was grateful he trusted me enough to let me into his mind for once. Still, it did not make the creep comment any less funny.

“Don’t laugh,” He whined, unable to stop himself from chuckling. “I’m being serious.”

“So do you want me to be a creepy stalker or not?” I joked, hoping to lighten up the mood. “Make up your mind, kid.”

“I think I just want you to be yourself,” I melted. “That’s been working out just fine so far. I mean, if you are a creepy stalker, you managed to get me to like you.”

“Mission accomplished,” I breathed, still reeling from his sweet words. “You better watch out, 007. There’s a new spy in town.”

“So, I’m Bond and you’re Joe Goldburg?”

“Exactly,” My cheeks hurt from how much I was smiling. “Penn Badgley would be a decent James Bond. He was really great in Margin Call.”

I bit my lip, trying to suppress my smile.

“Holy shit, you actually watched it?”

Margin Call was one of Jimin's favorite movies from 2011. He kept a very large notebook filled with all of the movies he’s ever seen, along with ratings, and if he should ever watch them again. He went through it one day and came across the action film, rewatched it, and then spent most of the day talking my ear off about how great it is.

“Someone I know was very passionate about it, and it managed to pique my curiosity.”

Jimin sighed, but I could not tell what emotion was behind it. Definitely was not anger or frustration. Not sadness either.

“What time are you getting back on Sunday?” He asked, and I could definitely hear the affectionate tone his voice had taken on.

“Um,” I thought about it for a moment. “Six, I think.”

“PM?”

“Yeah,” I curled up under my blankets. It was beginning to get really cold inside, but I did not want to get up to turn the heat on. “I have to double check my flight times, but I know it’s somewhere around there. Why? What’s up?”

“I know we already made plans for next week, but I was thinking I could pick you up from the airport and we could go out.”

My face grew hot, “I don’t think I’ll be dressed for a date.”

“You always look great,” He assured me.

I laughed, nervous and embarrassed, “Thanks.”

We had originally planned our first date to be the weekend after I got back. Jimin was adamant about giving me an experience, and I had been more than happy to indulge him a little. He was just so cute when he got excited. We were running on a limited timeline right now, though, since he had an upcoming swimming fundraiser with Swim Across America in Allendale. The team was raising money for cancer research, and I was very excited to be there to show my support.

Moving the date up meant we would have less to do next weekend, unless Jimin still wanted to keep our plans in place, but it meant we could focus on the fundraiser instead of trying to juggle a date at the same time.

“I hate to go, but I’m really tired,” Jimin yawned. Pulling my phone away from my ear I was startled by how late it was. “I’ll text you in the morning, okay?”

I apologized for keeping him up so late. “Promise I won’t do it again.”

He hummed, already beginning to fall asleep, “Don’t mind. You’re always welcome to bother me in the middle of the night.”

“Night Jimin,” I whispered, blood pumping.

“Night bug.”

There was one thing I missed about Colorado- how quickly the snow melted. Michigan was seeing more snow as each day went by, but here in the mountains they would not start seeing the worst of it until the spring. For the first time in a month, I was able to forgo my large, puffy jacket in favor of a long sleeve and jeans. Jimin found my excitement over this endearing, sending a slew of heart-eye emojis in response to the mirror photo I sent him.

It was almost the end of the day when I pulled into the high school parking lot. The entire front office erupted in excitement when I walked through the front doors, hugs and well wishes overwhelming me. Sandra, the receptionist, could have talked all day if I let her, and after signing in, I politely told them all I needed to meet up with Coach Jung. I lied about stopping by on my way out and only felt a little bad about it. They were way too much for me.

“They’re going to be so excited to see you,” Hoseok mumbled, a smile stretching across his face as loud teenage boys got closer and closer to the pool house.

“I’m happy to see them, too,” I replied. “Should we wait until they change to make the grand reveal?”

He shook his head. “Would you rather hug now or when they’re in speedos.”

I shivered, disgusted by the mental image.

“Thanks for putting that in my head, you sick fuck.”

Choking on his spit, Hoseok bent over, laughing so hard he started to screech. His laughter reminded me of a ghost's wail and was contagious. We were both so wrapped up in our little bubble we did not notice the doors opening.

“Coach?”

Wiping my cheeks, I caught my breath and made eye contact with Jordan. Baby blue eyes widened while a large, dimple smile overtook his face. Behind him, Gabriel announced that I was here, and the room was filled with excitement. I was not much of a hugger, but I was happy to greet each boy with one. Gabriel hadn’t stopped speaking since catching sight of me and had a few accidental slip ups about how much he disliked Coach Jung.

Hoseok had alluded to that being their main issue right now. The boys were having a hard time adjusting to a new face and missed me dearly. To his credit, Hoseok admitted that he was still getting used to the coaching thing and made a couple mistakes his first few days here. He had made it a point to apologize to them for being a dick, but the teens hadn’t forgotten or forgiven him for his snappy attitude. Especially the two oldest.

“When are you coming back?” Marcus asked.

I smiled sadly, “I’ll be out for the rest of the year.” The tall boy deflated, sending a nasty look Hoseok’s way. “But,” I was quick to fix my mistake, “I’m planning on making trips to assist Coach Jung throughout the year. I wanted to be here for your last meet, but something came up.”

That something had been Jimin’s birthday, and I was not going to risk missing his party.

Regardless, Marcus and the team were very happy to hear they would be seeing me.

“I promise I’ll be here for graduation, too,” I added.

Gabriel offered to give me one of his tickets and I gratefully accepted the extended offer. We stood there and talked for at least fifteen minutes before I finally told them to get changed and into the water. Without protest, all twelve of them went to the locker room.

“You know,” Hoseok chuckled. “You're going to have to teach me how you manage to do that.”

“Cinnamon buns from Mountain Shadows,” I put on my whistle and grabbed my clipboard from my duffel bag. “They’ll be eating out of your hand in no time.”

The team was glowing. Jordan stood in the middle of the boys, a large smile on his face, as he praised them for giving the meet their best effort. Having another win under their belt, all of them were buzzing with excitement at a chance at nationals. They only needed to win three more competitions to qualify.

For the first time since I arrived, the icy contempt they held for Hoseok seemed to thaw. It brought a smile to my face. If I did not come back next year, I had a feeling the boys would be getting along much better.

“What’s for dinner?” Marcus asked, looking at me for an answer.

“Coach said something about burgers,” I replied, gesturing towards Hoseok. “You should ask him though. I could be wrong.”

Gabriel chimed in, “Yeah, we’re going to Bingo.”

My mouth watered. Bingo Burger was one of the best spots in town. Their fries were hot and crispy, and I loved their shakes. Mulling over my options for dinner, I always found myself stuck between the Gone Shroomin’ Burger and the Happy Hippie. For a vegan burger, that thing was really fucking good. Then again, a thick, juicy beef patty smothered in bacon, cheese, and mushrooms would hit the spot. Indecisive and bored, I fiddled around with my phone and somehow ended up texting Jimin.

Me: Gone Shroomin’ or Happy Hippie?

The noise on the bus was just in the background now and easy to tune out. Hoseok was laughing loudly with the freshmen while the two seniors were in a quiet conversation in the seat in front of me. Marcus and his girlfriend broke up recently. I stopped paying attention once my phone vibrated.

Jimin: No idea what that means

Jimin: Gone Shroomin I guess

I bit my lip, suppressing a smile.

Me: We’re going for celebration burgers

Me: The boys won and Hobi is treating them since we’re out in Pueblo and not getting back to the Springs until after dinner.

Jimin: Speaking of food… I was thinking we could get some BBQ on Sunday

“Y/N!” Hoseok called, making me look up from my phone. “Tell your boyfriend you’ll call him later.”

“We need you to be the tiebreaker,” Twig chirped.

“What for?” I sighed, glancing down at my screen.

Jimin: Have you been to Union Rec yet? It’s BBQ and a taqueria

Me: No but I’m always down for a burrito

“Do mermaids have gills?” Twig asked.

Fully pulled out of my phone, I flipped it around and gave the boys my undivided attention.

“Of course not. They’re mammals, so it would be a blowhole.”

Hoseok clapped his hands, “Thank you! That’s exactly what I said.”

Sliding further down in the booth, I closed my eyes and drowned them out again. Colorado’s air was so dry and crisp I was having to get used to the altitude change. I missed how wet and cold Michigan was. Smiling to myself, I remembered how much I hated it when I first landed. So much has changed…

Shuffling, I made myself more comfortable. We were only thirty minutes out from the Springs now, and we would be at Bingos right on time for Hoseok’s reservations. Feeling myself growing tired, I sunk even further into the booth. Eyes heavy, I let them slip closed, and slept for the rest of the bus ride.

Standing in front of my bathroom mirror, I smoothed down my skirt for the millionth time. The gray sweater I had thrown on seemed too casual now that I was looking at myself, but I did not know what else to do. It was a laundry day, but when I went to put my clothes in the dryer it refused to turn on. Violet said they needed a new one anyway, but that did little to improve my mood. The pretty red dress I wanted to wear was soaking wet and hanging from the shower rod to dry. I played with the skin on my lip, willing the black and gray outfit to somehow look nicer. On the other side of the phone, Andy sighed.

“You look fine,” She insisted, running her hand through her auburn hair. “Do a cute hairstyle and put on a nice pair of earrings, and you’ll be golden.”

“You don’t think it’s too plain?” I had asked her this five times now, and each time I got that same reply. “I mean, do I look like I’m going to a funeral?”

“The guy has seen you in sweats and no makeup and still wanted to take you out. Do you honestly think he cares about the color of your outfit?”

She had a point. Finally deciding to cave in and give up on my obsession, I took her advice to do something with my hair. A few of the strands were beginning to look silver, and my sideburns were looking paler every day, but after Hoseok told me he was starting to see a few grays, I decided to leave them be. If we were both going to be silver foxes, I liked the idea of doing it together.

“Are you wearing heels?”

“No,” I shook my head. I picked my phone up and went to my bedroom to find a pair of earrings. “It’s too icy. Silver or gold?”

She thought about it for a second, her face scrunched up cutely.

“Silver.”

I landed on some thick, gun-metal hoops. They matched the color of the sweater perfectly and did not take away from my face too much. I had spent too much time on looking this nice to have an accessory dominate. Andy was happy with my choice.

I had gotten back a little earlier than I originally thought I would, and asked Jimin if it was okay that I meant him at the restaurant out here instead of making him drive all the way to Detroit to pick me up. He had put up a bit of a fight about it but relented when I said I was hoping we could hang out at his house after dinner. I said I wanted to get myself home, but I was really trying to see how bad the drive was from his place to mine. The thought of spending more time in his space made me feel like a teenage girl.

“How’s ballet going?” I slipped on a pair of black tights. It was freezing outside, and I wanted to have as many layers on as possible. “Has Dani made any progress in getting her figure skating career started?”

Andrea laughed but said that her daughter was getting closer to her goal every day. Jin was weak and did anything the little girl wanted if he could. This was the only issue they were both bull-headed about. Jin wanted to teach her to be responsible and follow through on things, and Dani was tired of preparing for figure skating. She wanted to be on the ice and her dad was afraid of pushing her too far too young. I was most definitely a team Dani instigator, and it was a point of contention between Seokjin and I.

“What did you think of Max?”

I smiled. That boy was definitely a character. The gang and I had a nice dinner before I left Colorado, and Tilly brought along Mr. Tattoo guy. He was quiet and when he did talk, he always had something completely random and out of the blue to say. He fascinated me and when everyone started huddling in their own groups to chat, I turned most of my attention to the new guy.

He was a sweetheart, and it was a nice change of pace getting to know him. He hated being called Peter (his first name), went to college for nuclear engineering, and became a tattoo artist on a whim. A buddy of his wanted a new piece, paid Max to draw it, and trusted the guy with a tattoo gun. He was an apprentice in San Francisco for three years before moving to Denver to open up his own shop. For all of his eccentricity, he was very successful and down to Earth.

“He’s good for her,” I finally replied, zipping up my Doc Martens, I checked the time. I would have to leave soon. “I’m just happy there’s no drama between her and Hobi.”

It had been a year since they officially broke up, but I knew they fell into bed with one another a handful of times since then. Hoseok and I had talked about their weird relationship on one too many drunken nights, the swimmer the only person able I liked enough to force a glass of whiskey down. Tilly knew that I knew and would vent to me sometimes. They loved each other, knew one another better than anybody else, and it was easy to fall back into each other since we were in the same circle.

I doubted Andy knew anything about that, we tried our best to keep her out of the loop, but she always said that they still had lingering feelings. I hoped Hoseok was handling this news well. He seemed fine, happy even, so I just rolled with it. If he had a problem, I was sure I would have heard about it by now.

“Speaking of Hoseok,” The humorous tone in Andy’s voice caught my full attention. “Apparently, Jin saw him at The Rabbit Hole with some blonde girl before you got into town. He just remembered to tell me last night.”

This was news to me. Wracking my brain, I tried to figure out if he had brought up a date, or even a person he might be interested in, but nothing came up. Shrugging, I let it go. It was probably just some girl he picked up at the bar. Still, that would be an expensive date.

“He hasn’t told me anything about that,” I murmured.

“Might be why he’s not bothered by new boyfriend.”

I laughed, “Or it could be that they’ve moved on.”

“Oh, please,” She pulled a face, eyes rolling to the back of her head. “We all know that’s not true. At least, not until recently.”

“Regardless,” I sighed, grabbing my purse and walking out of the front door. “It’s none of our business. If they’re happy that’s all that matters.”

Andy raspberried, “Boo. I hate it when you’re all mature and adult-like.”

“And right,” I joked. “Don’t forget about that part.”

Locking up my little house, I made my way through the Anderson’s. Violet was watching the Golden Girls on the couch while Calvin was reading a book beside her. It was a sweet scene that made me smile. I wanted what they had.

I gave them a smile and wave as I passed by. Violet returned it in full, her eyes kind and gentle, before going back to her show. Calvin put his book down and asked what time I was planning on coming back. He wanted to keep an eye out for my car.

“Around midnight,” I replied, moving my phone away from my mouth. Andrea was rambling about the new doctor on staff. I trusted her disdain enough to know he was a huge dick. “See you two tomorrow.”

“Be safe out there,” He replied, going back to his copy of The Catcher and the Rye.

Andy and I were on the phone for the entire car ride into Ann Arbor. I enjoyed hearing her voice, the small distraction welcome when I felt my anxiety spike. Thankfully it was a Sunday night, and the streets were somewhat empty.

Once I got into the downtown area, I drowned out her voice completely. Andrea never minded. She just kept talking like I hadn’t stepped out of whatever conversation we were just having. Never got mad when I kept asking her to repeat herself either. She was a wonderful friend to me, and I was grateful to have her in my life. If I moved to Saline, she would be the person I missed the most.

I still hadn’t talked to anyone else about the possibility of moving. I was not sure how they would react, and I needed to have my mind made up before giving any of them the news. While I knew Andy and Jin would be supportive, and Tilly and Minho wouldn’t really care all that much (it just gave them an excuse to vacation in Michigan), it was Hoseok I was most on the fence about.

With him it could go either way. He would either be really happy and supportive or call me crazy. It came from a place of love, and I respected his opinion more than any of the others, so I had to be completely sure of myself before getting into something like that with him. If he thought for a second I was rushing into things he would go into overprotective, big brother mode and kill all of my excitement. He might even be able to change my mind if he fought hard enough.

Pulling up to the restaurant, I was impressed by the sheer size of it. One half looked like an old warehouse while the other half was a small, white bricked building. A red neon sign glowed in the night and a large party was hanging out outside of the building. I could see Jimin in their little group and smiled. He was a very popular man in this area and was able to make new friends wherever he went. If I had to guess, he knew someone and is now best friends with all of them.

“Hey, I just got to the restaurant. I’m going to let you go.”

“Okay, baby,” Andy replied. “Have fun. Talk to you later.”

“Text you when I get home,” I replied.

Andy was as hypervigilant about getting texts as I was. She was on staff at the hospital when Namjoon and I first arrived. I can’t remember anything from that night after getting in Joon’s car, but when Jin and I spoke about it he said Andy was one of the nurses having to help triage me. She had to be physically pulled away from my body once the doctors found out about our connection, but the image of my body that night is burned into her mind. She was the person who took care of me the most upon release and quit her job at the hospital for a little while in order to make sure I was well taken care of. Calls and texts were just our thing now and I always felt horrible for being part of such a traumatic event for her.

“Love you,” She said.

“Love you too,” I replied, hanging up.

Getting out of my car, I locked the doors and made my way over to Jimin. He caught sight of me before I reached the small group and broke out into a huge, heart stopping smile. Unable to stop myself, I smiled back and waved awkwardly. He said something to the group before meeting me halfway.

“Hey, you,” He said, wrapping his arms around me. “You look really pretty.”

I laughed nervously, squeezing his waist. “Thanks. I tried my best.”

Pulling away, I was able to admire him a bit better. He was wearing light jeans tonight, a rarity as he preferred sweatpants and slacks, and a black t-shirt. A leather jacket was a staple in his wardrobe, and he always said they kept him warm enough. I never believed him. As always, everything was a tight fit and showed off his body perfectly.

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” I said once my appraisal was finished. “Nice boots. Where’d you get them?”

He looked down at the black, Chelsea boots and shrugged, “Nordstrom, I think. Taehyung got them for me a few Christmases ago.”

Of course he did.

“Let’s go inside. I’m cold.”

Jimin laughed, “My apologies, ma’am.”

The restaurant was packed, but Jimin had arrived thirty minutes early to get us on their waitlist, so I only had to wait five minutes for our table to be ready. Jimin brushed off the gesture as first date etiquette, but I knew better. The kid was late to everything and yet he got here early so I wouldn’t have to stand outside in the cold. It almost made me reach out and hold his hand, but my nerves got the best of me. We were at our table before I could gather up some courage, leaving a disappointed, bitter taste in my mouth.

“I’m feeling Disco Fries as an app. You?”

Searching the menu for them, I nodded. “That sounds really good.”

We were quiet for a few minutes as we decided on what we wanted. The menu here was rather large, filled with Mexican foods and copious BBQ items. Having never been here before I had no clue what was good and what hasn’t, but from how many people were here I had to assume nothing was bad.

“Know what you want?” Jimin asked, breaking the silence.

I shook my head, “No idea. What about you?”

“I get the same thing every time I come,” He laughed. “The Korean BBQ Burger is really fucking good. I also like the enchiladas.”

Finding both items, my mouth watered. Everything sounded amazing, but I wanted to get a little out of my comfort zone. I just had burgers yesterday, so I was not feeling that. Maybe BBQ? Looking at the options, I shook my head. I could not eat a half pound of anything. Biting the dry skin on my lips, my brain felt like it was working on overdrive. Too many options.

“Welcome to Union Rec,” I jumped a little, startled. “I’m Annie and I’ll be your server tonight.”

My eyes locked with a pair of baby blues, and I immediately recognized her. She was the brunette from the bar a couple of months ago. Eyes sliding from me, she landed on Jimin and the bored expression on her face morphed into one of pure bliss. I did not understand why she had given me that nasty look back then, but it was much clearer to me now. She had a thing for Jimin. Remembering she had a boyfriend, one she screamed at over the phone, it made me feel nauseous. Poor Tom.

“Oh my gosh, Christian. What are you doing here?” She asked, sneaking a look at me.

“Got a hot date,” He replied cheekily, gesturing his hand my way. “You remember Y/N, right?”

She gave me one of those tight-lipped, fake smiles. I returned the favor. I was not really jealous per say, Jimin’s declaration making any possibility of that disappear, but I did not appreciate anyone trying to make me feel small. I was a gold medalist. I was a fucking Olympian. Whoever the hell this chick thought she was, I would make sure she never thought for a second she got under my skin.

“Yeah, we met at Brecon’s,” Annie replied, completely ignoring me. “Thought she was your coach.”

Jimin either did not catch the insult or he was choosing to ignore it. His smile was still just as pleasant as it was when we first sat down. I envied his ability to keep his emotions so controlled. I knew I must have been glaring at the poor girl.

“She is,” He shrugged. “Doesn’t mean she’s not my girlfriend. Are you taking our order or…?”

Annie spluttered for a second before regaining her composure. All affection in her eyes was gone and replaced by irritation. It was definitely directed at me, but Jimin’s dismissal must have stung. I was happy to be rid of her. Putting in our order for Disco fries, Jimin got a Sprite and Annie left before I could ask for a drink. Sipping on my complimentary water, I forced myself to breathe in and out. She was just a petty, annoyed girl with a crush. That was all. So, what if she was being rude? I was fine. Everything was fine. After the fifth sip, I actually believed it.

Trying to keep my tongue in check, I went back to looking through the menu. Finally able to make a choice, I decided on the birria beef ramen and closed the menu. Hopefully little miss Annie wouldn’t spit in it. Hot again, I took another long sip of water.

“Excuse me.”

Jimin flagged down another waiter, a pleasant smile on his face. Confused, I put down the glass and raised an eyebrow. He winked at me before laying the charm on thick.

“Hey Marty. Would you mind if we got a different server?”

The young girl nodded frantically, “Of course. Is everything okay?”

Jimin smiled, eyes like crescents. “Everything is fine. Just Annie on her bullshit. Don’t want to get her fired by talking to your dad.”

Marty rolled her eyes, “Figures. I’ll tell her I’m taking care of you guys. Just don’t expect me to be running around for you, man. I have an entire section by myself.”

“I want privacy anyway,” Jimin replied, smirking at me. “Thanks. I’ll tip you well.”

She laughed, “Just make sure you put it in my hand. That bitch has been stealing tips. Cosette is trying to convince pops to fire her, but you know how he is about the girl.”

Jimin shook his head, “I already know. Can you get my girl a drink? Annie ran off without taking her order.”

Marty looked at me, her deadpan stare making me burst into laughter. Apparently, it wasn’t just me. That helped.

“Sorry about her. She’s a massive bitch. What can I get you?”

I smiled, my mood a million times better, “Iced tea, please.”

“You got it, babe. You ready to order?”

Marty took our orders and promised to be back with my drink soon.

“How do you two know each other?” I asked Jimin, finishing off my water.

“We were in the same class back in high school. Her mom owns that flower shop on Michigan Avenue.”

That was surprising. I was positive the girl was no older than eighteen. She reminded me of a porcelain doll, her chubby cheek and big eyes adding something angelic to her overall look. Then again, Jimin did not look all that old either. It was easy to forget he just turned 24. The age gap was really messing with my brain.

Annie was back with Jimin’s drink a few minutes later. She said nothing when she practically slammed his cup on the table before stalking off. It was then that I knew who she reminded me of. Darcy. I wondered if they were friends. Definitely had the same attitude problem, that was for sure.

“Ignore her,” Jimin told me once she was out of earshot. “I’ve been doing it since middle school.”

The rest of our dinner went back without a hitch. With Annie out of the way, and Marty’s small and infrequent check-in’s, we were able to be in a bubble of sorts. He asked about my trip back home and filled me in on what happened over the weekend. He had finally told his parents about our date and said that his mom thought it was a great idea. James called me perfect a few times, too. I had a hard time believing it, but Jimin had never lied to me before. It was nice to know the people around him accepted me even if I was a few years older.

“My mom’s 9 years older than my dad,” He revealed in between bites of food.

Shocked, I stopped eating all together. I had no idea they were that different in age. Ne-Yeon looked so youthful and pretty it was hard to guess just how old she actually was. Even fighting cancer, that woman did not look a day over 40. James was also in great shape for his age. To hear they had their own age gap made me feel a little bit better.

“Wait,” Something else occurred to me. “Your mom was in her forties when she had you?”

Jimin nodded, “45. She had Haru at 48.”

It made sense to me now. To Jimin, our age gap was nothing special. It was smaller than his parents’, and having an older mother did not bother him at all. In his eyes, we had all of the time in the world for marriage and kids. A small weight came off of my shoulders. It really did not mean anything to him. He was not just saying that to make me feel better either.

“Do you want dessert?” He asked, his plate empty in front of him.

I was almost done with my bowl, “What do they have?”

He squinted his eyes, thinking.

“I know they have this horchata banana pudding. It’s literally the best dessert I’ve ever had in my life. There are a few other things, but I can’t remember what they are.”

I chuckled, “Then we’ll have the banana pudding.”

Jimin was not exaggerating either. The pudding was delicious. I almost wished we had each gotten our own serving, but after seeing the bill we were happy we hadn’t. Jimin paid this time. We had a back-and-forth deal when it came to meals. I got us breakfast last Wednesday, so he was picking up this bill. This was, unfortunately, much higher than Denny’s.

“I’ll put gas in your truck,” I offered on our way out. “To make up for the difference from Denny’s.”

He scoffed, “Don’t worry about it.”

“But-”

“We’re together now,” He interrupted me. “If I want to pay for a meal, then I will. You don’t have to pay me back.”

“We’ve always done that,” I argued.

“That was before,” He countered, walking me to my car door and opening it. “This is now. And right now, I’m trying to take a pretty girl, in a pretty dress, on a nice date. That includes paying for her meal.”

Getting into my seat, I pointed out that I let him do the gentleman thing all of the time. Opening my door for me, pulling chairs out at restaurants, and even walking on the curbside when we were out together. The list was endless. The least I could do was pay for half of a meal.

“I don’t do those things to get on your good side,” Jimin replied. “I do them because I want to. This isn’t transactional. So, stop worrying about being a burden. I enjoy taking care of you. You deserve to be taken care of.”

I could not think of a good enough comeback, so I just decided to drop it. If he wanted to pay for me then he could. It was his money to spend.

“Send me your address.”

“You still want to come over?” He seemed surprised.

“Yeah,” I nodded, already pulling up the GPS. “What is it?”

He sounded like Charlie when he won the golden ticket as he gave me his address.

“Don’t get too excited now,” I joked. “Just because I’m coming over doesn’t mean anything.”

Jimin laughed, “I pretend I don’t even know what sex is until after date three, so don’t worry about it.”

That made me laugh, “Get in your truck. I’ll meet you there.”

Looking back at him, I felt giddy. His eyes were so alight, his joy written so clearly across his face it took my breath away. A happy Jimin was the only kind I wanted to see. Blowing caution to the wind, I finally reached out. Touching his stomach, I felt the muscles clench beneath my fingers.

“Thank you,” I said earnestly.

“What for?” He rasped, placing one hand over mine, pressing my hand further into his skin.

“For-” I broke off, taking my hand away. The feeling of him underneath me was too much. “For being so accommodating. I really appreciate it.”

He laughed, the sound strained and airy. I was too embarrassed by my actions to look at his face, but I could feel his eyes burning into the side of my eyes. Unlike me, Jimin was always brave. Hopefully some of that confidence would rub off on me. Maybe then I could reach out and hold him whenever I wanted to.

“You’re welcome,” He replied, and my thighs clenched together at how rough he sounded. Did touching him do that? Or was it the praise? It could be both. “Drive safe, okay? You can follow me if that helps.”

I nodded, swallowing. The icy air outside did nothing to put out the blistering heat coursing between us right now. It was overwhelming how hot it was. Turning up my A/C, I pointed the vent directly at my face.

“See you in a few minutes,” I breathed, still unable to look at him.

Jimin closed my door, and I leaned back in my seat breathing heavily. I watched him as he rounded the front of my car, those pants sticking to his legs like a second skin and groaned. I had never felt this level of desire for anyone before.

He reminded me so much of Namjoon. His beautiful brain and love for music and poetry so reminiscent it managed to bring me back to happier times. In the beginning I was afraid my attraction to him stemmed from that link. Because he reminded me of something I had loved so dearly that meant what I was beginning to feel was just a projection.

I was wrong. So unbelievably wrong. Jimin had a passion that Joon could never replicate. If Joon was a warm blanket, then Jimin was like the tide in the sea. On the surface it was calm, steady, and beautiful. Underneath that was life like nothing I had ever seen before. He was refreshing and filled with this fire for life that reminded me of my own from years ago.

Namjoon was perfect, a boy-next-door, and soft spoken. Back then I had enough of that passion for the both of us. Now I saw more and more parallels between us than ever before. I was uncertain, waiting for someone else to bring excitement back into my life, too afraid to reach out and take what I wanted anymore.

And then Jimin was there with that big smile willing to take me on whatever adventure I desired. All I had to do was ask. It was exhilarating, fun, and I was happy to be a part of the ride. His softness, his kindness, his understanding- all of it wrapped up in a pretty red bow. A gift that kept on giving.

I did not love Jimin, but I knew then that I could. With his sharp tongue and charisma, it was impossible not to. Everyone else did. Who was I to think I could be any different? I was a slave to his happiness. It was in that moment, sitting in my car, that I finally understood what was happening.

I was falling in love and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

Taglist: @ownthesunshine @screamertannie @lovelytaes-blog @pernesianparapio @tae-with-some-suga @sumzysworld @chimmisbae

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fandoms--fluff · 8 months ago

Note

Hi I was wondering if you could do a Damon x teenage reader but the reader sees Damon as a sorta father figure

Enough

Female teen Gilbert reader x Damon Salvatore

Warnings: bullying, ed, cutting, I think that's all

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You're sat on his bathroom floor, thinking. Just two weeks ago you got back from Denver. Being compelled to move there because of your big sister, Elena, is one of the worst things that's ever happened to you. You were miserable there. The empty feeling after being forced to leave Mystic Falls never went away for those long months your and Jeremy were there for.

Your anxiety went through the roof, not being familiar with the place. And having to make new friends and meet new people.

But the worst was the bullying.

The kids at the high school there were cruel. They took one look at you on your first day and by lunch there were horrible rumors about you going around. Which you obviously hadn't told Jeremy about, not wanting him to worry about you or bother him with something as stupid as that.

The boys would come up to you, pretending to be interested, but then burst out laughing with their friends who were behind them when you looked even mildly interested in them.

The girls were the worst yet. Especially the one friend group of nine. They would come up to you in the hallway, during classes, during lunch, and even after school. They'd harass you, talk about your dead parents that has somehow gotten out, pretend to feel pity towards you, basically anything to make you rethink your existence.

They even made fun of your weight for a straight week, and the body you once loved, became something you hate. You hadn't consumed anything but water and maybe an apple here and there, just so no one would question anything. It wasn't until Jeremy brought up how pale you looked and started watching you more carefully at meal times did you start to eat more consistently.

But only a bit. Not enough a fifteen year old girl should eat per day.

Damon had fed you some of his blood yesterday. You had gotten hurt from one of the last remaining hybrids. The hybrid tried to suck you dry, but Damon had showed up in time to get you out of there and healed the bite mark and bruises on you.

You looked down at your wrists where there were cuts just a second ago before they healed, a razor laying on the ground in front of you. The blade littered with your blood and a couple drops on the floor underneath.

The blood must've been still on your system.

Again you picked the razor up and slid it across your wrist and fore arm causing a deep scratch releasing some blood. You kept on repeating this action before switching to the other wrist.

You had started cutting your wrists when you had gotten back, not knowing what to feel, and what to think is true or not. Always gave those girls and kids voices in your head. And not knowing how to act around Damon since you've learned he was the one to compel you. Someone who you trusted countless times before. You just don't know what to say or how to act around him. You've just done your best to avoid him.

Which had gotten kind of hard, considering you lived with him and his brother. Safer there than at your actual home. At least at the boarding house you didn't have the lingering memory of your parents.

Everyone thinks you're fine, you responded exactly how you knew they would want you to when they asked if you were okay. No one suspecting a thing. Except for Damon, yes he hasn't been the best person in the world, though he does care for you a lot, he can't tell exactly why, but he does. That's why it was so hard for Famon to compel not just Jeremy, but you as well to leave Mystic Falls to go to Colorado.

You had grown close to Damon after he came to town. You met him when Elena and Stefan brought you over to the boarding house to keep you safe for a couple of days while Jeremy was staying with Alaric. He immediately took a liking to you. You would just sit in the library reading one of the many old books for hours and when you weren't doing that you would be hanging out with him. You and gotten close fast.

Stefan and Elena didn't like it at much in the beginning, but came fonder of you guys having a friendship as the weeks went on. Damon had sort of mellowed out because of you. Not a lot, but some.

Damon can tell when there’s something going on with you and all he has to do is figure out why. Surely it can’t be about the trip. You'd say something to someone, or come to him or at least to talk to him about it a little right?

Damon is sitting on one of the couches in the main room with a glass of bourbon in his hand and the tv on playing re-runs of old sitcoms from the 70′s. He was carefully thinking of a way that he could get you to open up, in the end he came up with nothing before going into a daze.

It was getting later and you finally stopped cutting yourself feeling somewhat a little better. There are some littered left over cuts that hadn’t healed but you paid no attention to them. You took deep breathes before falling asleep, hoping to not have any nightmares tonight cause you don't think you can hold in the screams so Damon can’t hear you anymore like you had been holding them the past weeks. Before that you grasped one of his pillows bringing it towards your chest, hugging it tightly.

You've been having horrible nightmares about the school and the bullying and the others finding everything out and callig you a bay for how you reacted to the kids there. The nightmares have been taunting you and they won't go away, they've gotten worse every night.

Damon quickly jolted awake hearing screams coming from inside the house. At first he looks at his surroundings, the living room...he must of fallen asleep here. Then he listened and soon realized that those screams were coming from you.

Stefan isn't here tonight, and he hadn't told you at least where he was going to be.

Worried, Damon vamp sped upstairs to your room, surprised that your door is unlocked. He got closer to your screaming and squirming form, placing a hand on your shoulder.

"Y/n....come on wake up. It's just a dream.......Y/n?" Damon slightly shook you.

That only caused you to swing around to face him, still asleep but now hyperventilating. Damon started to shake you more cautiously now, who knew how hard it would be to wake you up from a nightmare. He'd never witnessed you having one before.

“Y/n/n Wake up!” After more shaking and talking to you, you finally sprung up, awake.

While you're trying to calm your breathing down, Damon twisted to his side and turned on the lap that’s placed on the nightstand.

“Damon? W-what are you doing in here?” you asked the vampire, confused as to why he was in his room.

“I heard you screaming because of a nightmare and I needed to know you were alright” Damon said softly and gently pushed you back down so you were lying down again.

“No, no y-you don’t care I-if I’m alright or not” you said looking away from him. Not having anyone beside Jeremy and maybe a few times Elena comfort you after a nightmare. And this was the worst possible one for Damon to be there for.

Damon had a hurt look on his face, but hid it before reaching his hand out and placing it on your shoulder. The action making you face him with dried tear streaks down your cheeks.

“Baby, of course I care about you. Yes, I may not have said it, but I do” Damon said gently and wiped the tear residue off your face.

“You do?” you mumbled with a tiny pout on your face from your dream and everything going on around you right now.

Damon nodded and pulled you into his arms, you immediately climbed into his lap and started to sob into his chest.

Damon ran his fingers up and down your back soothingly. He was surprised how fast you broke and hugged you closer to his chest, wanting you to feel safe.

After some time, you pulled back to look at him with teary eyes and your hands shaking. Damon gently grasped your hands to stop the shaking and looked down to see an angry red patch on your wrist. Bringing your wrists up closer to see, he rolled up the sleeves of your hoodie to show all of the unhealed scratches on you wrists and forearms.

“Y/n? Why would you?” Damon was at a loss of words.

You looked at him in the eyes, mouth parting, wanting to explain but just can't and not knowing how to.

"Y/n/n, you need to tell me what made you do this. Is it from Denver?" Damon asked more gently this time.

You nodded slowly with tears running down his cheeks.

"It w-was bad. K-kids made f-fun of me. St-starved myself. C-cutting myself helps t-take pain away fr-from me" you explained, whispering.

He quickly wrapped his arms around you again. You relaxed a little into the vampire, nuzzling your head into his chest before you started talking.

"Why don't you think I'm pathetic? You can be honest, we both know the answer is yes" You mumbled.

"Y/n, you are not pathetic, don't ever call yourself that again. You're enough, you're an amazing person, don't let anyone tell you otherwise. If anyone ever calls you pathetic again, you tell me and I'll make sure to raise hell on them." Damon explained and placed a kiss on top of your head which he's never done before.

That brought a small smile to your face and you mumbled out an 'okay'.

Damon is about to get up but you quickly wrapped his arms and legs around him tighter making sure he won't leave you alone.

"Don't worry baby, I wasn't going to leave I was just going to get into the bed so we can get a bit more comfortable than on the chair" Damon reassured you. You nodded, understanding and got off Damon, climbing into the bed. You moved over a bit so he could also get in. When Damon laid down, right away you cuddled into him, using a strong grip.

"Baby, promise me you won't ever cut yourself again and if you do have those thoughts just come to me and we can talk about it" Damon kissed the top of your head.

You looked up at him and nodded, "I promise" you mumbled and Damon smiled hearing your small words while you started to doze off on his chest.

"I love you Dee" You said right before falling into a deep sleep.

"I love you too, Baby" Damon responded, knowing full well that you couldn't hear him.

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goldenseresinretriever · 3 months ago

Text

False Confidence: Chapter 12

Pairing: Javy “Coyote” Machado x Reader

Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe

Summary: The Athletic named Javy Machado the fifth sluttiest player in the NHL last year. He’s a known playboy who leaves every game with a different girl. As far as he’s concerned he’s living the dream, playing his dream job with the dream lifestyle. Unfortunately his friends and bosses don’t agree. At 33, they think it’s time for him to settle down. You’re a kindergarten teacher at an esteemed private school. You don't expect much when you finally accept your colleague’s invitation to attend her husband’s hockey game but when you accidentally get separated in the post-game rush, you find yourself in a compromising situation with the last person you’d ever expected to meet. When his PR rep suggests a mutually beneficial agreement, your hands are tied. How long will you have to keep up the act? And how long will you be able to?

Series CW: 18+ ONLY, swearing, angst, fluff, fake relationship, suggestive language, anxiety, school system inaccuracies, hockey inaccuracies etc. There will be individual chapter warnings. No use of Y/N.

Word Count: 5.2k

A/N: Happy Friday, y’all!

Previous Chapter // Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

You examine your classroom, straightening the decorations that you’ve hung on the wall. Every square inch of the room is decked out in various shades of pink, red, and white. Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day, and while your students are too young to really grasp the concept, the air has been buzzing all week. It has little to do with love and everything to do with the promise of candy and cookies at the class party on Tuesday.

You find your eyes searching for the calendar on the classroom wall and a frown creeps up onto your lips. The Dogfighters are on a road trip right now and you’ve found yourself irritated at the way it feels like life has seemingly returned to the way it was before you met your new friends. You’ve spent the last week going home straight after work, occasionally to the Fitch house where you help Josie with the kids while she attempts to get some work done. She’s stretched thinner than usual with Reuben out of town and you can’t help the way you wonder to yourself if this is your future. And while it makes you nervous, there’s a part of your stomach that flutters giddily.

You and Javy have been official for a little over a week, but the road trip has taken up most of that time. You’re anxious to see Javy again, and you’re seriously starting to doubt the old proverb that promises that absence makes the heart grow fonder. You’ve finally allowed yourself to be upfront about your feelings for him, given that he’s actually your real boyfriend now. He’s your real boyfriend now. You can’t help the way you bounce on the balls of your feet in excitement as a fresh wave of giddy butterflies flutters through your stomach. Another glance at the calendar reminds you that despite this being your first Valentine’s Day with Javy, he’s going to have to meet it, playing a game in Seattle tomorrow night. The two of you have plans for the weekend, however, a belated celebration once he’s back and rested. After the game in Seattle, they have one more game in Denver on Thursday before they get back to San Diego on Friday.

“You’re in a good mood this morning.” A voice from behind you teases and you pause your drawing on the board to look over your shoulder to where Josie’s leaning against the doorframe.

“Josie! Good morning!” You greet her as you cap the marker and wipe your hands off on your overalls as you go over to give her a hug that she returns before handing you a to-go cup that smells delicious.

“We stopped for a little treat this morning since the kids are missing Daddy extra.” She gives you a tired but rueful smile. You know if you miss Javy after barely dating him for a week, Josie must be missing Reuben something fierce after being married for a decade.

“They’ll be home on Friday,” you remind her, trying to sound cheerful but your melancholy must show through your facade because Josie gives you a gentle smile.

“Hey, what are you doing tomorrow night?” She asks, and you see a scheming twinkle in her eyes.

“Tomorrow? Nothing really, I was going to watch the match while I grade papers, and then Javy said he’d call afterward and we could get takeout for Valentine’s Dinner.” You ignore the way your stomach flips at the words Valentine’s Dinner. “Why? Did you need help with the kids tomorrow night?”

“Yeah actually,” Josie says casually, sliding a hand into her pocket. “I thought maybe we could watch the game together?”

“Of course! That would be so much fun, what time should I come over?” You’re secretly excited not to have to spend the night alone with your TV and your thoughts when you’re sure the jitters will be too distracting to get any work done anyway.

“Well we’re going to have to leave right after school if we’re going to make the flight,” Josie says and you blink, confused until you look down and see the tickets that Josie’s holding out to you.

“W-what?” You stammer as your brain struggles to catch up with your eyes.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Roadie,” she says and you look from the tickets back up her and then back down to the tickets before you almost spill the coffee in your hand as you throw your arms around Josie. Josie laughs, fishing the coffee from your hand and depositing it safely on a nearby bookshelf.

“Josie, I can’t, it’s too much,” you blubber uselessly as you sob into her shoulder, all composure lost at your best friend’s kindness.

She just shakes her head as she pats your back comfortingly. “The kids miss their dad, I miss my husband, and you can’t miss your first Valentine’s Day with Javy. He’s still not my favorite person in the world but he makes you happy so I can’t hate him.” You choke out a chuckle at Josie’s words.

“Thank you, Josie.” You whisper and she just shakes her head again.

“Don’t thank me, just enjoy the day.” She pauses before she adds. “I’d originally wanted to surprise you with it tomorrow but I figured I should give you a chance to pack.” She laughs and you join in.

“I think my brain might have exploded,” you point out and she laughs harder.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning, so we have just one car and we can go straight from work to the airport.” You nod, still breathless over the fact that you’ll get to see Javy tomorrow.

“Wait, do the boys know?” You ask, your brain firing at a mile-a-minute.

Josie shakes her head, a conspiratory grin spreading across her face. “I thought we could surprise them. Zam knows she’s the one that arranged the game tickets.”

“We’re going to the game?!” You grasp the papers Josie’s still holding and you shuffle through them to see the game tickets under the plane tickets. “Josie!” You shriek and she laughs, head tipping back.

“Don’t yell at me, those are complimentary! WAG privileges,” she reminds you and you shake your head in disbelief. Not only do you get to see Javy tomorrow, but you get to go to the game and surprise him. “Alright, I need to get going before my kids start showing up but I’ll see you at lunch,” you wave to Josie before returning to your prep for the day.

Suddenly you feel ridiculous for all the stressing you’ve done over the past week, trying to decide what to get your boyfriend for Valentine’s Day. You know Javy has no qualms about spending ridiculous sums of money on you, but you’re not exactly in a position to do the same. All the same, you’re feeling pretty proud of your Valentine’s Day gift for Javy. You’re also extremely happy that you finished in time for Valentine’s Day despite thinking you wouldn’t be able to give it to him until Saturday. You’re nervous but excited to see his reaction to it. You’re even more excited to see his reaction to your and Josie’s surprise.

***

You’re secretly glad that all you have planned for today is a Valentine’s Day party. You’re not sure you have the focus required to teach your students today since you’ve been bouncing off the walls with nervous excitement since you got out of bed this morning, not that you’d slept much at all. You’re secretly thankful for the parents who volunteered to help with the party because your mind is on this evening, your eyes flitting to the clock constantly, counting down the seconds until you’re done with work.

You know you should calm down and conserve your energy. The next twenty-four hours are going to be a whirlwind. After school ends, you have to rush to the airport to make your direct flight to Seattle, and from there you need to rush to the arena to make it in time for the game. After that, you’ll spend the night in Seattle before catching a red-eye from Seattle back to San Diego with barely enough time to make it back in time to teach Wednesday morning. Josie’s planning to drop off the kids with Penny for the day, since they’ll likely be too exhausted to handle a full day of school after all that travel. You secretly wish you could afford to take tomorrow off, but with so little notice, you know better than to try.

Your eyes move from the clock to the comically large vase currently taking up most of your desk. The flowers had been delivered during first period and you can’t help the giddy smile that stretches your face as you look at the bright orange blossoms. Your students had descended into giggles when you told them it was from Javy and you couldn't help but join in.

***

Your students finally make their way to lunch and you slump across your desk, letting the scent of the tiger lilies above you permeate your nose, and as sweet as they smell, you find yourself missing a different scent, a smokier, spicier one. You let out an exhausted groan as Josie lets herself in, coming to sit across from you.

“He sent you flowers,” she remarks, and you think she sounds a little impressed. You turn your head to squish your cheek against the cool wooden surface as you look at her and nod.

“Aren’t they perfect?” You say, a shy smile tugging at your lips as you follow her gaze to the orange blossoms.

“Tiger lilies? Not roses?” She asks, reaching a hand out to finger the blossoms, curiously.

“They’re my favorite.” You explain. “I don’t know how he knew,” you muse as a thought occurs to you. “Did you tell him?” Josie holds up her hands in surrender.

“It wasn’t me. I didn’t even know you liked tiger lilies.” Your brow furrows in thought.

“Well, technically, I love all lilies,”

“But those are your favorites now since they’re the ones he bought you,” Josie interrupts your thought and you look at her, surprised as you nod, cheeks heating.

“I used to like mums, back in college, they were my favorite and I was super vocal about it. Then I met Reuben and on our first date he bought me dahlias because he’d bought them thinking they were just big mums, and in that moment I realized I never wanted anything but dahlias. They reminded me of him, and how eager he was to make me happy, and now they’re my favorites.” The two of you sit in content silence for a long moment before she speaks up again. “Are you excited for tonight?” Your face brightens instantly and you nod enthusiastically.

“I still can’t believe it’s real, thank you so much again, Josie.” She shakes her head.

“Thank you for coming with me,” she chuckles, “but after you experience flying with two kids, I don’t think you’ll take me up on the offer again.” She teases and you roll your eyes.

“I love your kids,” you remind her and she chuckles.

“You do now, just wait.”

***

You can’t help the nerves that are pacing in your stomach as you worry the edge of the jersey you’re wearing. You try to channel the restless energy into helping Josie wrangle the kids. They are restless too, excited to see their dad, and cranky from their naps on the plane. You can’t find it in you to be irritated with them when you see your own raw emotions on display in them. You glance over your shoulder, anxious for warmups to begin so you can see Javy and the tension in your heart can finally snap.

Skylar bumps into you on accident as she tries to wrangle one of the homemade signs that are jammed into the bag on the floor. They’re incredibly cheesy, but Josie had insisted that they’re a necessary part of the surprise. You help her unfold them and hand her and Jamie the one they’ll hold together. It’s a simple mess of glitter and paint that reads, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Daddy!” Josie gives it a long look like she’s considering hoisting it herself and you roll your eyes as you slide out the sign that Josie made for the two of you. You haven’t seen it yet and you’re a little nervous. Josie is a lot braver than you are and she’s been married for a decade while you’re in your first real relationship that’s barely a week old. You carefully unroll the sign and feel your cheeks heat as you read the words on it. “It’s not just puppy love, Happy Valentine’s Day, Dogfighters!” It’s sweet and playful but your eyes are caught on one particular four-letter word.

Your heartbeat thunders in your ears so loud that you almost miss the rise of cheers that rise through the arena. You look up as Josie grabs your arm in one hand and her side of the sign in the other. You’re yanked back to the present as a familiar blur of green whips down the ice towards you. The team heads down to their end of the ice to start warming up and you remember to lift your edge of the sign as your eyes dart furiously from one player to the next, searching for number 68 and any sign of Javy. You hear the kids screaming for their dad in the corner of your consciousness, followed by the pound of their little hands against the glass as Reuben skates up.

Your eyes turn more frantic even though you know he’s here somewhere, he has to be. Your heart thunders in your chest as the unreasonable doubts start crawling in and making a home in your aching chest. You miss the moment a figure on the ice stops until a full body slams into the glass in front of you making the whole wall shake and then you’re looking at Javy’s full grin and wide eyes and he looks like an excited puppy as he gapes at you. You can’t help the excited grin that bubbles to the surface and matches his. You wave slightly as you place your hands on the glass over his on the other side.

“Hi,” you whisper even though you know he won’t be able to hear you.

“Hi,” he breathes back. His breath clouds the glass and your stomach flips when he draws a lopsided heart and writes “hi” inside it. You giggle as grins at you. Your moment is broken as Jake skates by and grabs Javy by the back of his jersey playfully. He blows you a kiss as he drags Javy back towards warmups. You try not to think too hard about the fact that Javy’s eyes stay on you the entire time before they disappear back down the tunnel.

***

You know you should be focussing on the score. It’s currently tied at 1-1 but instead, you’re still dizzy over the adrenaline of the day and the way Javy’s playing at the top of his game today. He’d assisted Jake’s goal in the second period, and you spent the whole break watching the replays online since it was on the other side of the rink. The score remains tied and the clock is running on the third period. Your lips are gnawed to hell as you watch the clock drop lower and lower. This period the Dogfighters are shooting on your side of the rink and you’ve been glued to the glass since it started. You wince as one of Seattle’s defensemen scuffles with Javy by the boards feet away from you, digging at the puck as it slides between their sticks and skates. Your brow furrows as a stray elbow catches Javy’s shoulder and you shout out in protest, as your hands find the glass where you bang alongside the Seattle fans. When you hear them cheering for the other player, you hear your voice rise, cheering for Javy amidst the louder screams. You’re caught up in the fever, the adrenaline of the game, the excitement of the day, and seeing your boyfriend. You catch his eye briefly as his eyes dart up unconsciously and you swear he winks at you, sending heat up your cheeks and knocking the breath from your lungs. Javy manages to dig the puck out of the corner and you watch as he knocks it backward to where Jake’s waiting to whisk it off towards the goal. Your heart is in your throat as you watch Jake’s approach, the opposing defense coming up to try and block his path to the goal. His linemates are trying to open themselves up for a pass but there are no open paths on the ice.

You watch his stick swing anyway, but you don’t see the puck fly into the fray. Your brow furrows in confusion until you watch Javy shoot out from behind him, the puck dancing along the edge of his stick, completely unmarked. Your stomach flips as you see the look on his face. For a moment it feels like you’re watching the sun come out from behind the clouds as you take in the boyish grin stretched across Javy’s face. His eyes are glinting with mischief you’ve seen plenty of times on your students’ tiny faces, and he’s glowing with confidence as he whips down the ice. Your heart is in your throat as you watch the other players slowly realize where the puck has gone and then you watch the black disk fly off the end of Javy’s stick. The goalie starts to move in his direction, but it’s clear he hasn’t realized Javy’s shot until it’s too late and his glove is still inches away as the puck sails over his shoulder.

You’re sure you’re screaming and then Josie’s screaming and she’s grabbing you and you’re grabbing her, and you can’t take your eyes off him as he roars in triumph and then he’s pointing with both hands and you’re trying to understand what at, it doesn’t make any sense and then he’s laughing and you read his lips as he tries to contain himself. “You.” Your brows furrow and you look down at yourself in confusion before turning around to look behind you as Josie laughs beside you as the other boys start crowding Javy.

Josie grasps your shoulders as your confusion grows. “It’s you, Roadie.”

“W-what’s me?” You ask, glancing back towards the ice where Javy’s getting set up for the next face-off.

You look back in time to see Josie shake her head, a fond look in her eyes. “Everything,” she says before giving you a tight hug and you feel your stomach twist as you watch the jumbotrons replay the goal and you watch Javy point at the stands all over again. Oh. You. You’ve spent your whole adult life expecting not to be chosen, never expecting to be anything but the butt of a joke, that you weren’t worthy of being chosen. People look through you, people look past you, people don’t look at you, people don’t see you. And yet in the last month, you’ve felt more seen than you have in the last thirty years of your life. They look at you, they see you. He sees you.

You don’t hear the whistle, you don’t hear the last of the game, you don’t hear the horn as the clock runs out. You’re overwhelmed, and you’ve been overwhelmed before, but it’s different this time. The usual fear, the pain, the panic, none of that is what you feel now. “Roadie?” You blink and realize belatedly that you’re crying and you turn to her and throw your arms around her neck.

“Thank you, just thank you.” You don’t recognize the sound of your voice as you shake your head and just hold your best friend. She doesn’t question it and holds you back like she already knows, and maybe she does.

***

You place a hand over your knee to try and stop the way it’s restlessly bouncing as you sit on the bench in some hallway, waiting for Javy. You’re not a spouse, so you weren’t allowed into the locker room area with Josie and the kids. A member of the Kraken’s staff had led the four of you to the private section of the stadium and you’ve been waiting for at least an hour. You turn your phone on, glancing at the clock and debating texting Javy but you know he’s probably just finishing up his post-game responsibilities. He knows you’re here. He’ll find you. You stifle a yawn as you stare at the screen, your stomach dropping as you realize how few hours you have until you’ll have to head back to the airport and back to your life.

You close your eyes, trying to ignore the math that your brain insists on doing because it’s not enough and you’re not ready to be back home, exhausted and alone, thrust back into your routine for another three days until Javy gets home. You barely suppress a groan as you lean your head against the wall behind you, trying to reconcile the consequences of your actions as the lull in the business of the day gives you a break from the adrenaline that’s been coursing through you all day. You’re slowly descending into a spiral of your own thoughts when you hear the squeak of hinges in your periphery and you turn your head, your body sitting up, the giddy excitement of seeing Javy beating out the exhaustion settling into your bones as you watch the corner, begging Javy to come around it.

You’ve barely caught enough of his silhouette to confirm it’s him before you’re bouncing off the bench and running for him. Running to him is a blur, but then you’re in his arms, and the scent of sweat mixed with his cologne engulfs your nose and you feel the tension melt out of your body as you settle against him. The two of you stay silent for a long beat, your bodies refamiliarizing themselves with the feeling of holding the other, committing it to memory, to carry the two of you through the rest of the week. When the two of you finally choose to speak, it happens at the same time.

“Thank you,” Javy whispers into your hair.

“Thank you,” You croak, your voice breaking over the words all over again. The silence that falls between you is comfortable and you can tell he’s waiting for you to go first so you tell him the words that have been on your lips for the last hour. “Thank you for seeing me.” Your chest heaves shakily as you fight the words out, but his arms just tighten around you as he holds you, like he’d physically hold you together if you shattered to pieces.

He pulls back and removes his hands from your waist to cup your cheeks as his dark eyes look into yours and straight through to your soul. “You’re impossible to miss.” He says as he strokes his thumbs over the apples of your cheeks, and when he says it, you find that it’s not so hard to believe it. “Thank you for coming,” he whispers before running his nose against yours, your lips just shy of ghosting over each other.

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be,” you whisper back, and when he kisses you it feels like you’ve let out a breath you’ve been holding for the last week.

“Alright, Meep,” Javy says when he finally pulls away, leaning his forehead against yours, arms returning to your waist to keep you close, “you gonna tell me what you’re doing here, beautiful?” You feel your cheeks heat even though you’re already in his arms, and he’s already kissed you.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Javy.” It sounds so silly as you say the words, but you wonder if that’s because it’s the first time you’ve said them romantically.

He chuckles softly before pressing a simple kiss to your lips “Happy Valentine’s Day, Meep, but I mean what’re you doing in Seattle on a school night.” You shrug slightly because you don’t really have an answer.

“Josie’s the right brand of crazy and she has the budget to back it up?” You both laugh at that.

“I hate to ruin the mood,” Javy says before closing his eyes for a moment, “but when do you leave?” Your stomach drops again. In the joy of being reunited with Javy, you’d forgotten that you’ll have to leave him again in just a few short hours.

“We have a red-eye back to San Diego so we can make it back to work tomorrow,” you explain and you know Javy’s doing his best not to mirror the disappointment you’re feeling. “But you’ll be back in San Diego on Friday, right? That’s not so bad.” One glance at him says that he believes your words about as much as you do. “But at least we have tonight,” you relent.

“At least we have tonight,” he agrees. “Well then, let’s not waste a second.” He leads you out of the stadium. Most fans have since dispersed, returning home since it’s a Tuesday. The area around the stadium is lit with lights as and there are a fair amount of people milling around. Javy takes your hand and leads you through the park surrounding the stadium as you crane your neck back to get a good look at the Space Needle as it closer and closer.

There are a few people milling around and entering the Space Needle as you and Javy approach the ticket desk. The lady at the desk’s eyes widen in recognition as Javy purchases tickets for the two of you. When you enter, you stay close to Javy, feeling nerves bubble like butterflies as the photographer takes your picture and you watch Javy give him him email address for the photos. “My privacy is already nonexistent, there’s no need to compromise yours,” he explains when you offer to give yours instead. You walk up the spiral walkway to the elevator with Javy’s hand in yours. The ride to the top is silent and you’re sure you notice the elevator attendance staring at the two of you. The fact that you’re wearing Javy’s last name on your back doesn’t really help with the subtlety.

When the elevator doors open your breath catches in your throat. There are glass walls separating you from the balcony that wraps around the room the elevator opens onto, but you can already see the lights of Seattle twinkling from here. You find yourself dragging Javy to the balcony. The city of Seattle is alight all around you. From here you can see Climate Pledge Area, the rest of the park, and various museums in the area around you. You can also see the darkness of Elliot Bay. As you make your way around the balcony, you come face to face with the dazzling skyscrapers of downtown as the city itself sprawls out into the distance. It’s gorgeous and your fingers itch to paint the stunning view. You pull out your phone, snapping some inspiration photos. You’re already planning how you’re going to approach the painting when Javy slides his arms around your waist from behind, leaning his chin on your shoulder.

“What’s going on in your pretty little head, Meep?” He asks and you feel embarrassment creep over you for just abandoning him when he brought you up here and came all the way here to see him.

“Sorry, I was just thinking about how much I want to paint this view,” You explain as you gaze out at the city below you.

“Well, I can’t wait to see it,” Javy whispers. “And I hope I have first dibs when it goes on sale,” he murmurs, nuzzling your cheek gently.

“Javy, I’m not making you pay for my art!” You exclaim indignantly, leaning into him as the wind off the bay whips around the two of you. Javy wraps his arms around you from behind, pulling you close.

“Pretty girl, where is your coat?” He asks as he snuggles you.

“We live in San Diego, I don’t have one!” You grumble indignantly. “It doesn’t get this cold there,” he nods against your shoulder.

“Okay, that is true, I’ll give you that.” He rubs your arms. “At least you’re wearing long sleeves,” he points out.

“Do you like it?” You’d been too shy to ask last time. Well, that and last time you hadn’t been wearing his name as his real girlfriend.

“I love it,” he says with a forcefulness that makes your heart flutter.

“Oh! I almost forgot!” You wiggle out of his grip to get the box out of your purse. “I know we’re going to celebrate on Saturday, but I figured since I was going to be here, I could give you your gift today!”

“Meep,” Javy groans. “You came all this way, you didn’t have to get me anything, plus I don’t have your gift here,” he bemoans and you wave him off.

“You didn’t know I was coming, and neither did I until yesterday, so I had already gotten you a gift. Plus, you bought the tickets to come up here,” you remind him. You hand him the narrow box and he arches a curious eyebrow as you draw the sleeves of your jersey over your hands and hug your arms around yourself. Javy notices and gently guides you so that your back is to the building behind you and he’s blocking the wind with his body before he opens the box. You hold your breath anxiously as he unwraps the paper inside before his breath catches.

“Roadie…” he murmurs and you swallow hard, trying to decipher if you’ve hit the nail on the head or missed it entirely. Javy lifts the tie out of the box, examining it in the light that’s filtering out from inside. You’ve covered the originally-white fabric with fabric paint, doing your best to recreate a slice of the cliff painting he bought at your show. And there at the very bottom are the embracing figures that represent him and you. “Roadie, this is beautiful. Did you paint this?” His voice is full of awe as he looks at you and you nod.

“I know it’s not the most faithful recreation but fabric paint is pretty fickle. I thought maybe you could wear it with one of your game day suits.” You admit. While exploring the team’s Instagram account you found the highlight of game day suit posts, and that had inspired you to make the tie.

“I’m getting rid of every other tie I own when I get home,” Javy declares and your eyes widen in horror.

“But this is blue, and it won’t match every suit!” You protest and he chuckles.

“Well then I’ll just get rid of all the blue ones, and every year I can get rid of a different color.” You see the nerves dancing in his eyes at the boldness of his statement, at the assumption that there will be more years. That you’ll be together long enough for a dozen Valentine’s Days and a dozen ties.

“Well I do take requests,” you say and you watch the anxiety leave his shoulders and you kiss your boyfriend at the top of the Space Needle on the night of your very first Valentine’s Day, and everything is perfect.

A/N: The Valentine’s Day festivities aren’t quite done yet, what do we think Javy has planned for Saturday?

#san diego dogfighters #san diego dogfighters au #san diego dogfighters hockey au #false confidence // goldenseresinretriever #fc // goldenseresinretriever #javy coyote machado x you #javy machado x you #javy machado x reader #javy coyote machado x reader #javy coyote machado #javy machado #coyote x you #coyote x reader #top gun maverick #top gun maverick hockey au #tgm #top gun #no use of y/n

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jokeringcutio · 4 months ago

Text

"Ramblings" - The Grabber (Albert Shaw) x (ADHD) Reader

Fandom: The Black Phone Pairing: The Grabber/Albert Shaw x (Female, ADHD) Reader Rating: SafeForWork Warnings: Use of the word D*mn in Reader's thoughts, Reader is in Grabber's basement. To write this request, I have kept in mind specific adhd aspects from the requester, as well as having drawn from my real-life experiences. I am aware there are many shapes and forms of Adhd, ticks/stimming. The prompt:

For @emotionalmesshooman

You were perched on the cold concrete, eyes darting to the staircase where he had disappeared. Your heart hammered. Time stretched and compressed in this dungeon of shadows and whispers.

The dim bulb hanging from the ceiling flickered, casting an eerie dance across the room. Your breaths came short and fast. The floor was a chill against your skin.

Then, the door at the top of the staircase opened, somewhere high above your head, and footsteps could be heard again. There was the distant barking of a dog, but your captor told him to lie down.

So… he had returned.

His silhouette was framed by the doorway. His mask hid his face, but you knew it was him – Albert Shaw, the man who held your life in his hands. Wasn’t there this saying that it was always the butler who did it? That it was the kind and unexpected face? The man who dressed the most ordinary? Well, they were right. He was the janitor at your old high school. The memory of him grew vaguer the longer it was since you graduated from school. But still… No one would suspect a man like that, right? Always helping others, being kind to kids.

You had a problem? Ring him up. Albert comes and fixes it.

Of course, the infamous Denver Grabber was the kind man who lived just a few blocks away. You wondered when the police would think of checking this man’s basement. Probably never.

"Ah, there she is," he rumbled, voice a little too cheerful as he crossed the basement toward you. How dare he talk so casually to you, so light-hearted, as if he wasn’t your captor ready to torment you.

His presence loomed over you, oppressive and undeniable. He set down the tray with a clatter, disrupting the tense silence. A plastic plate with a few scraps of scrambled eggs wobbled precariously at the edge. Beside it, droplets of soda rolled down its can.

"Food," he grunted, nodding towards the tray. "Eat up."

Your fingers twitched involuntarily, reaching for a plastic spoon – round and not sharp enough to cut, and too weak to be used as a weapon for it would just break. It felt alien in your grasp. You jabbed at the eggs, their yellow pallor as washed out as the hope you clung to. Each bite was mechanical, the taste lost on a tongue numbed by fear.

"Good," he said, and there was something unsettlingly tender in his voice. Almost like twisted pride. But what was he proud of? "That's good."

He watched you eat, his gaze intense and unwavering, and you wished you knew what was going on in that mind of his. What were his intentions for you? It wasn’t that you were ignorant – you had heard of the Denver grabber. You knew the boys he took had never been seen again. And judging by the empty basement, which only harbored a dingy blotted mattress and little else, you knew they were no longer kept here – but they probably had been at some point. You swallowed another bite, the knot in your stomach threatening to reject the offering.

"See?" he murmured, a dark chuckle threading through his words. "Not so hard to take care of yourself, is it?"

But you couldn’t respond. Your throat suddenly squeezed tightly, not allowing another bite in. Your stomach coiled, your heart twisted, as you tried to force the nauseousness to ebb away.

He sunk down, mirroring your position. The space between you felt like an ocean of shadows. His mask, a grotesque sentinel staring silent and still.

"Why are you looking at me?" Your voice broke the air, a fragile intruder in the oppressive silence.

It always unnerved you when he looked at you like this – and he had been looking a lot. It was almost as if he took you home as some kind of curiosity, to be kept in a room for his own, to be observed and looked at. But not looked after. God only knew you needed someone to look after you.

Your hand twitched, you didn’t even notice. The movement was mechanical. Your dominant hand still held the plastic spoon, although all movement there had ceased, completely forgotten. But it was your other hand, the fingers more correctly of it, that were tapping against one another in sequence. Pinkie to thumb, ring finger to thumb, all the way to your index and back again in quick succession. It needed no thinking, it was a second nature.

"Isn't it allowed to just watch?" His tone, edged with something like offense, cut through the dim light. A predator's gaze fixed upon its prey, unwavering. Your fingers were still tapping. He sees. He knows.

Then you gave your fingers a slight break when you rubbed your palm on the coarse fabric of your pants. In this abyss, every movement betrayed your fear, each tick a Morse code of anxiety.

The Grabber's eyes traced the erratic twitch of your thumb, a hawk surveilling its quarry.

"Interesting," he murmured, almost to himself, as if dissecting the peculiarities of a specimen under glass. The word sent shivers down your spine.

"Doesn't that annoy you?" His question was deceptively casual, the mask making it impossible to read any true intent. An unnerving half-smile played on his lips, visible beneath the edge of the hideous mask.

You swallowed hard, mouth dry. "It's not by choice," you managed to stutter out, the admission costing you more than you wish to acknowledge.

His head tilted, studying the involuntary symphony of twitches and taps. "Control, my dear, is all about willpower," he said, his voice a low rumble that made the air around you vibrate.

"Go on, eat." He pushed the tray closer, the scrape against the concrete a jarring sound to your ears. "You need your strength."

The smell of scrambled eggs wafted to you, but your stomach churned in protest. You eyed the tray with a mixture of hunger and repulsion. The can of soda gleamed against the dim light. You were so, so hungry and thirsty. He was doing this on purpose, making you delirious with want.

You wanted to reach out, your fingers already rose into the air, but then you thought better of it and retracted them, your fingertips instantly picking at your dry lips. The relief you felt when a scrap of skin on your lower lip came loose was almost euphoric.

"Or are you too good for my food?" His tone shifted, laced with mockery, the cruelty of his words veiled behind feigned concern.

You hadn’t truly been paying attention to him just now. You were too focused on the feeling of the loose skin, dry and parched, underneath your fingernail. Tearing it off felt liberating. Others had told you this wasn’t a good habit, yet you still came back to it ever so often. You were not ashamed of it either. The skin was already dead anyway.

"You think I might poison you?" Now his words finally came through and you looked up at him, truly seeing him this time. Gone were the thoughts and distractions inside your head.

If only for a second.

"Of course not," you whispered, though bile was once again rising in your throat, thick and acidic. The truth was a bitter pill; you were starving, and you had to eat whatever he gave you. But whatever he brought wasn’t very nutritious. And it had made you feel even worse before, so you didn’t put it past him to indeed poison you. You were pretty certain he had drugged you at least once after you just got here.

"Your body betrays your words," he taunted, leaning back on his haunches. "Is it mistrust? Or perhaps something else?"

You pressed your lips together, silent. Every second stretched on, taut as a wire ready to snap. You silently observed the man as he sat on his hunches against the opposite wall – the devilish mask with its twisted grin and pointy horns. Why was it so pale? Had it not been finished yet?

“Are you going to paint that?” you asked.

And even though you couldn’t see his expression being that grotesque mask, you could swear you saw his eyebrows rise in surprise.

“Come again?” He asked, and you concentrated really hard as you looked at him.

“Aren’t you going to finish that? It’s not finished,” you said, pointing at his head.

It took the man a moment to realize what it was you were talking about – that it was about his mask. You were already distracted, your leg nervously bobbing as you repositioned yourself. If you were moving from left to right, well, that was because the floor was uncomfortably hard and cold. Also, it was customary for you to keep changing the way you sat. It was a bloody miracle that you sat at all. Must be the lack of nutrition, you pondered. Or you’d be pacing the room.

Your fingers were tapping again.

"Why do you do that?" His voice was low, curious – the edge blunted.

Your eyes darted up to meet his through the holes of his mask. "Do what?"

Blue eyes, you thought. Blue or grey. Memories of objects that you’d seen once that had the same color surfaced in your mind and your gaze skittered away.

“That." He nodded toward your hands, and you followed his gaze and frowned. Your fingers were still doing that rhythm, but when he looked you tried to clasp your hands tightly in your lap, knuckles turning pale. It didn’t fully hide the impulse, though. The muscles of your hands still twitched, the movement restrained but ever so slightly visible.

"Can't help it," you admitted, the weight of his gaze pressing down on you, demanding the truth.

"Interesting." The word was left hanging between the two of you and you wondered if he truly found it interesting or just annoying. ‘Stop twitching’, ‘Stop that’, ‘Keep your hands still’, ‘Don’t be so nervous’, and many more of these phrases came to mind.

Why hadn’t he said any of them yet?

"I did like that fish," you stated out of nowhere, and after another bout of silence, you could hear a heavy groan from ahead of you.

The Grabber shifted, then let his curiosity win out. “Oh?”

Right, he had no clue what you were on about.

You flushed, probably, quickly rambling to explain why you said that. “The round fish. I’ve no idea what his name was. Well,” you corrected yourself, running a hand through your hair and playing with the strands.

“I knew his name. His name was Peter, although Peter actually became Priscilla later on because he was apparently a girl. Although I told him to give him a name that could be used for both. Did you know Kim can be used for both? I didn’t know that. Or Lesley.”

When you looked over at the Grabber, you could see you’d lost him. Growing even more nervous now, you squeezed your own hand.

“Ah, right,” you quickly said. “Anyway, I meant, he could easily have given him a unisex name, you know. Like,” looking at him once again, you realized he was still at a loss.

Right. You swallowed harshly, throat dry and lips even drier. Get it together. What were you trying to explain to him again?

“The fish,” you brought yourself back on track. “That’s right. How did I get to the fish, you’re wondering?” You let out a nervous little laugh, gazing back at the Grabber shortly. You had to remind yourself to look at him when you talked to him, you sometimes forgot that.

And still, he didn’t move or interrupt. Well, that was good. Probably.

“The fish. It’s because of the bowl. Right? I mean,” you gestured helplessly at the empty wall to your right.

“It was so damn quiet and it made me so nervous, I tried to think of something else and then there was this stench. Like, did you know you have a toilet down here? I mean, I noticed because it hasn’t been cleaned in ages, and the smell came to me just now as we sat quietly and hit me like, full-on. And I was thinking, when I got down here I had a look around and there’s like, absolutely nothing here. But there’s this toilet. But it looks like it hasn’t been used in ages. Dirty too. And there’s a crack in the bowl. Anyway, the bowl is a nice round shape, just about as large as the bowl of a fish in one of my friend’s houses. Clara, her name was. Nice girl. Anyway, her fish was a deep black, which is kind of pretty. But not the prettiest fish I’d ever seen and…”

Realizing you were rambling and that you’re talking for so long, you quickly apologized and decided to get to the point. “Sorry, sir. Sorry,” you squeezed your hands in front of you again.

“It just reminded me of the prettiest fish I’d ever seen. My favorite fish. It was a very round puffer kind of fish. I don’t know what the type of fish is called. But I do know he was Griffin’s fish. You know, the boy that went missing three years ago?”

You hesitated, suspecting that Griffin must have fallen into the Grabber’s hands at one point. “I knew him,” you then said with a sad sigh. “I used to babysit him when he was little, you know.”

Your words dwindled into nothing, a whisper carried away on a ghost of a breath.

Silence followed in which you nervously tried to see what the Grabber’s reaction to your ramblings would be. But he remained eerily quiet. He sat frozen, his expression shielded by the mask.

Had you screwed up?

"Well," the Grabber finally stirred. “And you had all those thoughts in just the flash of a second?”

“Yes, sir,” you said, looking anywhere but at him.

He unfolded his hands, you could tell by the sound of his movements. "What makes you so nervous?"

"Isn't it obvious?" The retort slipped out before you could cage it, raw and bitter.

"Perhaps." He tilted his head, studying you, intrigued despite himself. "Or perhaps not."

Your fingers tapped an erratic rhythm against your thigh, as the room fell quiet again. The air grew dense. The Grabber shifted.

"Interesting." The word was softer now, almost thoughtful.

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat stubborn. He nodded at the plate. "You should eat. Wouldn't want your food to get cold."

Your dominant hand twitched and suddenly you were reminded of the plastic spoon. Where did you leave it? While you looked around you on the grimy basement floor, the Grabber pushed himself to his feet. He wasn’t very nimble, and you listened to the faint groan that accompanied the movement. By the time you found your spoon and looked up again, he was checking his watch. Funny. You’d never seen him wear one before.

At first, you thought he always wore one. You had assumed the thing you saw around his wrist was a watch like most men wear. But then one day you observed him closer and discovered he was always wearing this weird kind of silvery bracelet. He wore a lot of jewelry, you concluded. There were the rings as well.

But today was different. Today, he wore a real watch on his left arm. He must have some important business or something.

“I have some things to take care of upstairs. You'll be all right down here for a while, won't you?"

It was clearly not a real question and you barely registered that you’d reacted with a nod.

"Good girl."

With that, he turned and climbed the stairs. The door shut behind him with an ominous thud.

You were left with the plate, the sound of your ragged breaths, and a knot of confusion in your gut. What had just happened?

#I consider this a drabble but it is 26669 words long #Reader x albert shaw #albert shaw x reader #adhd reader #the grabber x you #you x the grabber #ethan hawke character

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