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leafs-lover · 4 years

Text

Because Two People Got Drunk: 14

Series Masterlist

A/N: Bold is text messages, italics are flashbacks

Summary: You and Fred have returned from the summer as the new season is starting up. You try and navigate your lives as your dynamic has changed.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, smut

Word Count: 3700

Chapter 14

F: Hey home opener is Saturday, would love for you and Ollie to come. Let me know

You sit at your phone staring at it for a bit before facetiming Allie.

“Hey girl” she says answering.

“Hey what’s up?”

“Not much you?”

“Not a lot” you pause “Fred just asked me to come to the opener with Ollie.” “Why is that weird?” she asks you.

“He is still with Danielle the nurse” you grumble.

“You know if you didn’t weasel out in the summer you could be with him now".”

You hear a knock on your door and open it to see Fred “Hey Fred" you say letting him in.

“Hey (Y/N) how’s it going?”

“I’m good, you?”

“I’m good. Thanks for letting me get him so late.” He says about the fact it’s almost 10pm. “I had plans tonight, but I wanted the full day with him. Trying to get as much time in with him as I can before the season starts back up.”

“Oh no worries, I’m sure he won’t even move when we grab him. I actually wanted to talk to you about something anyways" you say as you head to the kitchen for some water.

When you arrived home a few weeks ago and realized you have feelings for Fred. After month of everyone around you telling you this, you finally realize it to be true and you hope you aren’t too late.

You hope you aren’t too late, because you plan on finally telling him tonight. And if you are too late you realize that you two can get through it since you have repaired your relationship from Valentine’s Day and everything that transpired after.

When you return you look at Fred and see he is wearing dark washed jeans with a white polo under a dark blazer. You stare at him a little bit before finally saying “you look nice, big date tonight?”

Crap, that wasn’t what I wanted to say.

He stares at you for a second “uh um” he starts clearly uncomfortable. “Yeah I was.”

You stare at the wall, looking about 3 inches beside his face. You aren’t able to look at him as you feel yourself go numb. You don’t hear anything and the silence feels like it goes on for minutes, although it likely was only a few seconds.

“(Y/N)” Fred says finally drawing you from your thoughts. “You wanted to talk to me about something.”

“Oh.” Not a chance you can say something now, he has moved on. Why couldn’t you have looked at him first and realized what he was wearing. He said he had plans; obviously it’s a date when he is dressed like this.

“No. It’s nothing" you manage to say talking a drink.

“You sure because -"

“Yeah I’m sure; let me get Oliver for you.” You walk into his room and lean against the wall taking a few deep breaths. You carefully scoop him up and return to Fred passing him off.

“You sure you don’t have anything you want to talk about?” he asks.

You shake your head, trying to avoid looking into his eyes. You can feel tears sitting in your throat, your bottom lip trembles slightly.

“No, everything is good” you manage to say placing a blanket on Oliver as you practically push Fred into the hall.

You take a few steps toward your living room so Fred can’t hear you through the wall. You fall to the floor and begin to cry as you realize that the man you love, the man who you thought loved you doesn’t. You hurt him so bad he walked away to someone else and now you are too late.

You shake your head remembering that night and how broken you felt. You managed to pick yourself up, literally and figuratively and have moved past those feelings. But you don’t know if you are ready to meet the girl he is dating.

“So is she going, and if so why invite me too?”

“Maybe they aren’t together anymore, or maybe she is busy or doesn’t like hockey. So many reasons. Just don’t overthink this. And if she is there maybe Fred thought you’d want to meet her before leaving your kid alone with her.”

“If that’s the case I’d rather just meet her at a drop off, not with a bunch of other people around. Or maybe he should ask me if I want to meet her before introducing us” you practically spit out the last sentence.

“I still don’t get why you didn’t tell him in the summer" she says lightly.

“Because he had a girlfriend” you say.

“She was hardly a girlfriend at that point and -"

“Well it doesn’t matter because he is with her and I’m over him” You yell cutting her off. You can see her scowl through the phone, she doesn’t believe you.

“I am. I met someone last week, I have been talking to Connor a little bit -"

“Like a band aid for Fred?” she asks.

“No, I don’t need a band aid for Fred because I’m over him and have moved on. What I was going to say is he seems nice, and he’s funny. I want to see him again.”

“Then why does it matter the reason behind your invite, if you both are seeing people. Just don’t overthink this babe. It’s the home opener, he wants his son there. So just talk to him after.”

You and Allie continue to talk before you finally hang up.

Y: Yeah for sure, we’d love to go!

F: Great, I’ll leave the tickets at the box office. Also I got him a new jersey I’ll leave that too.

Home opener comes and you are still a ball of nerves. You dress yourself in a pair of high-waisted white jeans, with a green and pink floral puffy sleeve shirt with pink open toed wedge sandals. You dress Oliver in a pair of jeans and white t-shirt, before heading to the lounge you swing by the box office to get the tickets and you put Oliver’s new jersey on him.

“Hey” Kathy says pulling you in for a hug “wow he is so big, probably going to be walking soon!”

“I know! He pulls himself up on things all the time, he also tries to walk holding your fingers, but he hasn’t walked without support yet.” You make your way down to the glass as the boys participate in the pre-game skate. Fred is skating a lap before he spots you guys and stops in front of you.

Ollie smiles at his dad as Fred taps on the glass “dadda” he babbles as he waves at his dad.

“Yeah is that your daddy” your coo.

“He is such a mini Fred, like identical to him.”

“I know the same hair and eyes, his entire face is just Fred” you say.

“Yeah” she agrees. “He will grow up to look exactly like Fred.”

The players skate off and you return to the lounge, scanning the crowd for Danielle. “Looking for someone” Christina asks scooping Oliver from you.

“Yeah, I was wondering if Danielle was coming, Fred’s girlfriend. I wasn’t sure if he invited her.”

“I don’t think she is coming, nobody told me is she was.”

The game is intense and Oliver falls asleep part way through the second period, you just hold him in your arms as he sleeps. The Penguins win 3-2 in overtime and you head down to the players tunnel to meet Freddie. As you wait there Oliver stirs in your arms and wakes up. You try to rock him back to sleep but the people around cause too much of a distraction. He starts squirming to be put down so you do, bending down to give him your fingers to help keep him balanced. A few minutes later you see Fred come out of the room scanning until he sees you guys. He has his tie loosely around his neck, the top button undone and his hair is still wet. He sees Oliver and bends down a few feet in front of him “what are you doing up bud? Way past your bed time.”

He reaches out to grab Oliver, at that moment Oliver releases your fingers and takes a few wobbly steps towards Fred before stumbling. Fred quickly scoops him up as you all start freaking out. “Oh my god!” you scream some people looking over at the commotion.

“He just walked, he just, he just walked. Like no support or nothing. Just like walked!” Fred exclaims picking him up and squeezing him tight. You walk over and kiss his forehead “I can’t believe my boy is walking. You’re too little, mommy isn’t ready for this.” Fred pulls you in tight and you smell his faint cologne mixed with soap and sweat as he kisses your hair. You hear Sidney say “time to get him some skates” which causes you all to laugh.

“Can I get a ride home? I carpooled here” he says.

“Yeah lets go” you reply. The two of you walk with to the car with Fred’s hand on the small of your back leading you out of the building.

“Is he already asleep?” you ask approaching the car.

“Yeah he is” Fred says buckling him in.

“Do you want me to park in the garage and help bring his stuff up?” you ask as you drive.

“Yeah that would be great thanks.”

You help Fred with the stroller and diaper bag as he removes Oliver and carries him to the elevator. You help carry everything in, as Fred puts Oliver to bed. He finds you in the kitchen, his tie now off. “You want a drink?” he asks grabbing a beer. You nod and he hands one to you sitting in the barstool beside you.

“Was a good game tonight” you say.

“Thanks” he says.

“Um, so you know that you could have got Danielle to bring him tonight.”

“Oh um… I haven’t introduced him to her yet” he says.

“Oh I kind of figured you had already”

“I’m not really sure if I’m ready for that yet” he explains. “It’s only been a few months, I don’t know how serious we are or where I see this going with her.”

“Okay, well when you are ready to introduce him to her, or someone just know I trust you.”

“Thanks.”

You sit there a little longer talking and drinking, you’re now on your 4th drink. Fred gets up to get you each a new drink when you look at the clock, it reads 12:10. You jump up and run over to Freddie as he turns around from the fridge and you wrap him in a big hug “Happy Birthday” you exclaim.

He chuckles wrapping his arms around you “thanks (Y/N/N)” you look up at him, as he stares down your eyes lingering maybe a little too long. He pulls back from you and you both move back to the island and continue talking.

“I can’t believe that happened!” you exclaim while laughing, you feel Fred’s land on your thigh. After you stop laughing, not even sure what you were laughing at you stare at each other. Fred’s hand remains on your thigh while you stare at each other.

You lean in as you feel him close the gap your lips softly connect. He sets his beer down on the counter before his hands reach the small of your back. You shift closer and run your hands through his hair as Fred deepens the kiss. His hands drop to cup your ass pulling you onto his lap; you allow his tongue entrance to your mouth.

He stands up and your legs wrap around his waist. He begins walking to the bedroom as your tongue attaches to his neck placing light nibbles and kisses. He groans as he drops you on the bed before climbing on top of you as he begins sucking on your neck.

“Mmm” you moan out as his hand slides under your shirt. You begin to unbutton his dress shirt as he pulls your shirt over your head “fuck” he mumbles as his mouth attaches to your breasts. You undo the last button and push it off his chest, you press on his chest causing him to fall onto his back and straddle him. Fred reaches up and unclasps your bra, freeing your breasts “forgot how nice your tits are” he says bringing a hand up to pinch one of your nipples.

You throw your head back before you undo his belt as you begin rocking against him searching for friction. You feel him grow hard under you as a groan leaves his mouth. You undo his zipper and slide a hand inside palming him over his boxers. Fred undoes your jeans and begin to slide them off you. You step off the bed and out of your pants. After you pull his pants and boxers down his legs, his cock slaps against his stomach. You work your way back up his legs, you slide your hands up his large thighs and you leave a trail of gentle kisses in your wake.

You finally make your way to his hard member as you lick a stripe up the underside. You use your hand to guide him into your mouth tasting his salty pre-cum. “Fuck” he mumbles as you start bobbing on him, his hands reach down to grab your hair. You continue to bob on him, gagging slightly at his size. You use your hand to help with what you can’t fit.

You continue your pace, as you re-familiarize yourself with his size. Bobbing up and down on him you slowly begin taking him deeper as you feel him hit the back of your throat. You continue taking his entire length; he hits the back of your throat every time. Your hands rub up and down his thighs.

You hear Danish curse words spill from his lips as you look up at him through your lashes. Saliva is dribbling out of your mouth and down your chin, your hair has begun to fall to the front of your face and in your mouth. You choke slightly on it before his hand comes down to your hair, hastily pulling it out of your face into a loose pony.

“I’m gonna cum” he says. You bring your hand up to massage his balls as you continue to deep throat him. His hands tighten their grip on your hair as you feel his dick twitch as warm cum spurts down your throat. You slow your bob on him as you swallow and lick up anything that has spilled.

You release him from your mouth and wipe your chin cleaning any spit from you. You crawl up him as he pulls you down capturing you in a deep passionate kiss. He uses his arms to reach down and grab your ass, pulling you up higher “come up here” he whispers as you crawl the rest of the way until you are sitting above his face. He grabs your hips and pulls you closer to his mouth, you can feel his warm breath against your folds as his beard tickles the sides of your legs.

You shudder as he begins nipping at the inside of your thighs inching towards your core. He begins sucking on your clit as a light whimper leaves your mouth “you’re so wet baby” he mumbles against you. You reach forward to brace yourself on the wall with your right hand, bringing your left down to grip his hair. He uses his hands to bring you down closer to his mouth and holds you firmly there.

His tongue licks a stripe up your entrance before sliding inside. His nose brushes against your clit as he pushes his face up. “Fred” you moan as he continues his assault on you. He pushes his tongue in further, you start to squirm as he pulls you down closer. He continues to lick the inside of your walls, one of his hands come down to scissor you as he sucks on your clit.

He pumps his fingers inside you, a slow pace but his fingers are thrust fully inside you. His mouth suck on your clit while his fingers continue to pump inside you. “I’m close babe" you whimper as you feel your walls tightening.

Fred pulls you down closer his tongue slips inside your folds, lapping inside you. Fred can feel your walls tightening around his tongue as he continues to work on you. You grip his hair even tighter tilting his head back slightly allowing him a better angle. This slight change sends you over the edge as you pulsate around his mouth. He keeps going until you finish when he loosens his grip on you. Your hand let’s his hair go, shocked you didn’t pull any out.

You slowly rise up and shift to sit beside him, your back against the headboard. He turns onto his side and looks at you, his beard glistening from your juices. “Fuck you’re unbelievable” he says.

Still out of breath you can’t respond, he pulls your legs so you are lying on your back. He rolls over to be on top of you, placing light kisses on the neck causing you to moan lightly. You feel his hard member press into your stomach as he places kisses on your neck and chest.

He reaches over to the night stand and grabs a condom rolling it onto himself. He returns to you kissing you passionately as he lines himself up with you folds. He slowly pushes in you as you grip the bed sheets, you lightly bite his shoulder to supress your moans.

Fred reaches down and grabs one of your legs bringing it to his shoulder as he slowly thrusts “fuck your tight babe.” He keeps his slow pace allowing you to adjust, your head falls back “been a bit” you whisper. His pace begins to slowly speed up as he drops lower pushing your leg down closer to your chest, allowing him a deeper angle.

“Freddie” you moan as he continues, your hands raking his shoulders. Filthy sounds leaving your mouth, your skin flapping fill the bedroom “you feel so good babe” he whispers as he pushes deep inside you. “You gonna cum for me baby? Need to feel you” Fred says as you feel your walls tightening around him.

“So close” you say as you feel him becoming erratic. You bring a hand down to your sensitive bud and press circles on it as Fred continues to thrust into you. Fred pushes deep inside you, each thrust hitting your sweet spot.

You spasm as your walls tighten. Fred feels your walls tighten around him, as he continues to thrust inside you, you scream out his name. Fred doesn’t stop thrusting inside you as your orgasm continues. As you come back from your orgasm you feel Fred’s dick twitch as he spills into the condom before letting your leg go and collapses onto you.

You bring your hands up and start stroking his hair as you lay in the bed, him still inside you. Finally your breaths begin to return to normal as Fred looks to you, engaging you in a soft kiss.

He slowly pulls out as you shiver from the loss of contact. He goes to the bathroom to dispose of the condom and returns with a damp cloth and gently cleans you before finding you a t-shirt and putting it on over your head. He pulls you in to his arms as the two of you begin to doze off.

The next morning you wake up to a cold empty bed, the clock reads 7:50. You lay there trying to process what happened. Did you actually sleep with Fred? What about Danielle? He did say they weren’t serious, maybe they aren’t exclusive yet. You are alerted from your trance by the sounds if Oliver’s cries.

You put on your outfit from the night before and pull your hair into a messy bun before walking to the living room where you see you crying son in Fred’s arms.

“Somebody takes a couple steps and thinks they don’t need help anymore. He fell and hit his head on the table" Fred explains.

You kiss him on the head and rub it soothingly “guess we better get used that now that he is learning to walk" you sigh.

“And he is a boy, they like to get in all kinds of trouble” Fred says poking Oliver’s side to try and tickle him.

“Oh, his crying face breaks my heart" you say kissing his cheek again.

You walk over to your purse and get a small box with an envelope and hand it to Fred “Happy Birthday Daddy" you say placing the items on the counter.

Fred sits at the barstool and opens the card smiling “I see Oliver signed it" he says due to the crayon scribbles on the inside.

Next he opens the small box which has some silver cufflinks that are engraved with Oliver’s birthday.

“Wow these a perfect Ollie, it’s like you knew I needed a new pair. Thanks bud!” Oliver claps his hands as Fred places another kiss on his head before putting him down.

“Thanks" he says pulling you in for a hug.

“No problem Fred.”

You both sit there silently for a minute before you finally say “I should get going.”

Fred doesn’t say anything he just nods. You walk over and kiss Oliver goodbye before going to the door and putting your shoes on. You open the door and turn to Fred who pulls you in for a quick side hug before separating. When you are in the hall and moving towards the elevator you hear Fred’s door close and lock.

That felt weird, maybe he regretted last night you think to yourself as you step in the elevator.

Next Chapter

#Frederik Andersen #Freddie Andersen #Fred Andersen #Freddie Andersen Fic #Freddie Andersen Smut #Fred Andersen Fic #Frederik Andersen Smut #NHL Smut #NHL Fic #Freddie Andersen X Reader #Fred Andersen X Reader #frederik andersen fic #Fred Andrersen Fic #frederik andersen x reader #fredzilla #because two people got drunk #my writing

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softspideys · 4 years

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Fruit Lover (Tom Holland x reader)

summary: you’re working as a cashier at the local grocery store. tom is a stranger who keeps giving you fruit.

warnings: none

word count: 2.6k

pairings: tom holland x reader

a/n: this is the first thing I’ve written in quite a while and I really am happy with it! just some cute, tooth-rotting fluff, I hope you enjoy:)

Being a cashier at the grocery store wasn’t exactly how you thought you’d be spending your summer. But you were home from college with nothing to do, and money was money.

Aside from dealing with impatient old people or bratty, screaming kids, the job wasn’t really that bad either. And, to make things better, your usual register was right next to your best friend Zendaya’s. When either of you had crazy long lines or were being berated by someone for not scanning their expired coupon, you could just glance up and find her already looking over her shoulder at you, rolling her eyes.

You were unlucky enough to be working the closing shift one Saturday night. It was 10pm, meaning the place was basically empty. You’d been standing at your register for hours by now and your feet were killing you. Despite the air conditioning in the store, the humidity outside still managed to find its way in.

You’d found a pen on the counter and were mindlessly doodling on the palm of your hand when someone in front of you cleared their throat. You jumped, looking up, and immediately thought oh.

The guy standing in front of you was about your age, and he was cute. He was wearing a white t-shirt and black mesh shorts, a baseball cap pulled over his head. You liked the way his dark hair curled over his ears and the bottom of the hat.

“Sorry,” you said guiltily, putting the pen down and starting to scan his items. “I, um, didn’t see you.”

“S’okay,” he said with a smile. “You looked like you were concentrating pretty hard. What were you drawing?”

“Oh, nothing. Just, uh . . .” You weren’t sure why, but you held up your hand so he could see the flowers you’d drawn on your palm before realizing how stupid that was. You swallowed and quickly resumed your scanning.

“Nice,” he said, to your surprise. “You’re lucky; I’m a terrible artist. No one ever wants me on their Pictionary team.”

You weren’t sure what to say to that, so you just nodded. “You must like fruit,” you commented, motioning to his groceries: a hand of bananas, some strawberries, a mango, and two kiwis. Oh, and some bread and milk.

He laughed and you felt your face get hot. Why did a cute boy have the power to turn you into a flustered, nervous mess?

“I guess you could say that,” he said. “But doesn’t everyone?”

You shrugged as you began bagging everything. “Sure. I mean, I don’t really like bananas, but mangoes and strawberries are good. I’ve never had a kiwi though.”

“Hmm,” he said, almost thoughtfully. He didn’t say anything else, and you’d never been good at keeping the conversation going with customers anyway, so you didn’t either.

After he paid, you handed him the receipt and pushed his bag towards him. “Have a good night,” you said, already starting to replay the conversation in your head and cursing your awkwardness.

Instead of answering, he reached into the bag, pulled out one of his kiwis, and offered it to you. “Here,” he said. “For you.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You said you’d never had a kiwi before,” he said, nodding at it. “So here. Try it.”

“I—I can’t,” you stammered, although you weren’t actually sure if that was true. There was a rule that employees couldn’t accept tips from customers, but you’d never heard anything against fruit.

“Sure you can,” he said. “It’s already been paid for. Just take it.”

Hesitantly, you accepted. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. If I can convert just one person into being a kiwi-lover, then my work here is done.”

You smiled. “Thank you.”

He grinned back, shouldering the bag and starting towards the exit. “No problem. See you around.”

You were still smiling when Zendaya approached your register, plopping a bottle of chocolate milk and a magazine on the belt. “Now that was interesting,” she said.

“He gave me a kiwi,” you said, marveling at it. She rolled her eyes.

“I wish hot customers would come to my lane and give me stuff. Well, there was that one guy who tried to give me a lock of his hair, but I guess that’s not the same thing.”

“I’ve never seen him around here before,” you said, carefully placing the fruit on your counter. “I wonder why he picked me?”

“He probably thought you were cute, duh,” Zendaya said.

You immediately shook your head. “No way. He probably just thought it would be funny. I doubt I’ll ever see him again anyway.”

* * *

A week later, you found yourself working the same shift. All of your other friends were out partying while you were bored out of your mind on a Saturday night. Even Zendaya had taken the night off. She’d tried to convince you to do the same, but you knew you really could use the money. Besides, a small part of you was hoping you’d see the fruit boy again.

You’d worked afternoons during the week and he hadn’t come back, as far as you could tell. You were just beginning to think you were right about never seeing him again when the doors slid open and he walked in.

Heart pounding, you craned your neck and watched as he went into the produce section. He disappeared past your line of vision after that, so you had no choice but to stand and wait.

Quit being stupid, you told yourself. He might not even come to your register. He probably gives fruit to everyone who checks him out.

You forced yourself not to look for him, or even look up, until a familiar voice said, “Hello.”

And there he was, smiling at you and looking soft in a gray hoodie. “Hi,” you said, clearing your throat. “How are you?”

“Good, thanks. Working the late shift again?”

“Yeah,” you said. You didn’t say anything else, concentrating on scanning his groceries, before you added, “I usually work late on Saturdays and Sundays, and afternoons during the week.”

“Gotcha,” he said casually, but he was still smiling.

“More fruit?” you asked quickly, nodding to the items you were currently bagging.

“Uh-huh,” he said. “You ever tried a papaya?”

“I can’t say I have.”

“What’d you think of the kiwi?”

You grinned at the memory. “It was really good. I had it with my breakfast the next morning.”

“Good.” He paid for his groceries and, like last time, reached into the bag and pulled out a fruit. “Here. Papaya next.”

This time you didn’t hesitate, reaching out and taking it from him. “Thanks,” you said, feeling your smile grow wider.

He returned it, and you noticed he had brown eyes. “Sure,” he said, already starting for the door. “Have a good night.”

And that was how it started. Over the next few weeks, you found yourself being gifted with not flowers or jewelry, but fruits. He came during the afternoon a few times, but as the store was usually busier then and there was less time to talk, he mostly stuck to late Saturday nights.

He always went to your register, even if you had a long line and Zendaya had no customers at all. He also made a point to give you fruits you’d never tried before. Some of them you’d heard of, like pomegranates, figs, and guavas, while others you didn’t even know were sold in the store, like jackfruit and kumquats.

You liked pretty much all of the fruits he’d given you so far, but your favorite was the figs, only because that was when you learned his name.

“It just seems unfair that you know mine and I don’t know yours,” you’d said as you handed him his receipt. “I call you ‘Fruit Guy’ in my head.”

He’d laughed, reaching into the bag and pulling out a fig to place on your counter. “I’ve had worse nicknames.”

He’d started to walk towards the exit, and you thought he was going to leave without telling you. But then he’d turned and smiled at you. “It’s Tom.”

Tom.

Zendaya insisted Tom had a crush on you—why else would he come to your register and give you fruits?

Even though the thought of it made your palms sweaty, you knew she was probably right. You also knew that you didn’t want Tom to lose interest in you, or worse: think that you didn’t like him too. You had to act soon.

So, you waited until you were working the next Saturday night. Four hours of your shift had already gone by, and you’d been a nervous wreck throughout all of it. Where was he?

Finally, the doors slid open and you saw Tom walk in. You watched as he went towards the deli, disappearing from your line of vision. You didn’t know how long it would take him to do his shopping, but all of a sudden it felt like you couldn’t wait any longer.

After a few more agonizing minutes, you finally thought fuck it. You placed a “CLOSED” sign on your belt and turned the light above your register off before going after him.

You wandered up and down the aisles before you found him at the very end of the store in the frozen food section. He had the door to one of the freezers open and appeared to be deep in thought, staring at the ice cream. He didn’t even notice you approaching.

“Hi,” you said.

“Oh, hi.” Tom blinked at you before he grinned. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen your legs before.”

You forced yourself to not look down at them. “Oh. Yeah. There they are.”

“There they are,” he agreed. “What’s up?”

You took a deep breath. “I was just thinking that this whole time, you’ve been giving me stuff, and I never got you anything in return.”

His smile faded. “I don’t want anything in return. That’s not—that isn’t why I’ve been doing that.”

“No, I know,” you said quickly. “I just thought—well, I thought I’d give you these.” You reached into the pocket of your apron and pulled out—

“Dates?” Tom said, taking them from you and looking very confused.

“Yeah,” you said. “I’m giving you dates, and also asking you out on one.”

Tom stared at the bag and then back at you. He didn’t say anything for a few seconds. Just when you thought maybe you had the wrong idea about all of this, he surged forward and kissed you.

It was like all of your senses had been kicked into overdrive and you were feeling everything at once. His hands were cool from being by the freezers for so long. His eyelashes tickled as they brushed your cheeks. His lips were a little chapped, but soft, moving gently against yours.

“Oh,” you said when you finally broke apart. “Wow.”

He was grinning from ear to ear. “Dates. I can’t believe I didn’t think of that. That’s genius, honestly.”

You smiled back, a little shyly. “Thanks.”

“I would really like to go out with you,” he said. “It’s probably time I got your number, right? So I don’t have to keep stalking you at your job?”

You exchanged numbers and he asked, “So, when are you free?”

“Well, I’m probably about to be fired for leaving my register without permission,” you said, only half-joking. “So really, anytime.”

He laughed. “Do you want to have dinner with me tomorrow, then? I can cook. Kind of. We can have a picnic somewhere.”

“Sure,” you said with a smile. “I’ll even bring dessert. How do you feel about fruit salad?”

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland fic #tom holland x you #tom holland one shot #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #writing #please enjoy this

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gdwessel · 3 years

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Wrestling Satsuma no Kuni Night 2 - 4/29/2021; Musings on Shows On This Date; Mox v. Nagata IWGP US Title Match on AEW Dynamite 5/12/2021

The second night of Wrestling Satsuma no Kuni took place today, and you can see it now on NJPWWorld. No title matches this time, however Kota Ibushi returned to action in his home prefecture of Kagoshima at this show.

- 4/29/2021, Kagoshima Nishihara Shokai Arena (NJPWWorld)

SANADA & BUSHI [Los Ingobernables] d. Yota Tsuji & Yuya Uemura (BUSHI > Uemura, Terrible, 8:28)

El Desperado, Yoshinobu Kanemaru & Minoru Suzuki [SZKG] d. YOH [CHAOS], SHO [CHAOS] & Tiger Mask IV (Desperado > Tiger, Numero Dos, 9:14)

Taichi, Zack Sabre Jr. & DOUKI [SZKG] NC Tama Tonga, Tanga Loa & Jado [Bullet Club]

Toru Yano [CHAOS], Hiroyoshi Tenzan, Ryusuke Taguchi & Master Wato d. EVIL, Yujiro Takahashi, Taiji Ishimori & Dick Togo [Bullet Club] (Yano > Togo, Schoolboy, 10:12)

Shingo Takagi & Tetsuya Naito [Los Ingobernables] d. Will Ospreay & Great O-Khan [United Empire] (Takagi > O-Khan, Last Of The Dragon, 21:52)

Kota Ibushi & Hiroshi Tanahashi d. Jeff Cobb & Aaron Henare [United Empire] (Ibushi > Henare, Kamigoye, 17:04)

Ibushi gets a win on his return to the ring, and challenged Jeff Cobb post-main. Shingo KO’d Ospreay with a Last Of The Dragon post-match. I will confess, the feud between GOD and Dangerous Tekkers has been built extremely well. Much like the TenKoji v. United Empire feud at the start of the year, NJPW has been excelling with these down-card feuds moreso than the main event or title ones. BUSHI’s finisher I am assuming is a reference to CMLL (Nueva) Ingobernables member El Terrible, but don’t quote me on that.

It was brought to my attention that today (well, it’s almost TOMORROW in Japan as I write this) was the 26th Anniversary of Night 2 of the NJPW show at Pyongyang Stadium in Pyongyang, North Korea. The official name of it is the Pyongyang Sports And Peace Festival, but American fans will know it more as Collision in Korea, a show that had a few WCW matches on it as well. There is an episode of Vice’s Dark Side Of The Ring coming up about it, but that’s not why I’m talking about it. (There may be more material about this show coming from me soon, however. Stay tuned.)

I also discovered today is the 25th Anniversary of Battle Formation in Tokyo Dome, a pretty major show that had Shinya Hashimoto defeat UWFi’s Nobuhiko Takada for the IWGP Heavyweight title, The Great Sasuke take the IWGP Juniorheavyweight belt from Jushin Thunder Liger, “Macho Man” Randy Savage beating Hiroyoshi Tenzan whilst Masahiro Chono defeated Lex Luger, and a wildly bloody match between Great Muta v. Jinsei Shinzaki that I covered on an episode of Strong Style History during the pandemic.

My curiosity piqued, I took a look, and discovered NJPW have run 27 shows on April 29, the first being in 1974. Many of them were mere house shows, but then, we have two major ones happening consecutively. Three editions, including the first in 2015, of Wrestling Hinokuni have happened here, as well as Wrestling Toyonokuni from 2017. Wrestling Hinokuni was supposed to happen in 2016 on 4/29/2016, but that got cancelled due to that year’s earthquake in Kumamoto.

We all think of set dates in the NJPW milleu, like, obviously, January 4th, or how August 8 is usually supposed to take place in Yokohama (it didn’t last year), or how March 6 is the Anniversary date. For some reason I went down a bit of a rabbit hole about today. I wonder if I looked deep enough I can find other significant dates on the calendar that keep popping up in NJPW history. Maybe I will someday!

Just yesterday, mere hours before AEW Dynamite aired, I was kvetching that for all the “Forbidden Door” talk, not much has actually happened between NJPW and AEW thus far. Before the end of the episode, Tony Schiavone announced that the challenged match between Jon Moxley v. Yuji Nagata for the IWGP US title will actually take place on the 5/12/2021 episode of AEW Dynamite. The internet exploded.

Nagata was a somewhat regular fixture in the first hour or so of WCW Monday Nitro on TNT in 1997 and 1998, his last appearance on the network being a win over Perry Saturn on 7/20/1998 (his last WCW appearance a win over Frankie Lancaster on 9/13/1998 on WCW Worldwide). He even got fed to Goldberg in a WCW US title match on 5/5/1998 (on WCW Saturday Night), and had a win over a founding Toryumon member in Magnum TOKYO on the 6/22/1998 episode of Nitro.

In any event, Schiavone sounded excited to call a Nagata match again, and we’re all excited to see Mox v. Nagata. Yes we are.

Other things:

Keiji Muto, who you may recall I wrote an article about this week, is still the Pro Wrestling NOAH GHC Heavyweight Champion, defeating Masa Kitamiya at NOAH The Glory in Nagoya today (Shining Wizard, 22:53). His next challenger will be on 6/6/2021, and it is none other than Naomichi Marufuji, currently Muto’s M’s Alliance stablemate. Hot damn.

I mentioned yesterday that MMA promotion RIZIN’s Tokyo Dome show on 6/13/2021 may be affected by the extension of the attendance cap for large events. What I did not realize at the time was that show was supposed to happen on 5/23/2021 at the Dome and was moved because of the emergency orders. MMA isn’t really my realm of expertise, but it does show how COVID-19 continues to affect wrestling, MMA, sports in general, and indeed, life in general.

We return to the Road to Wrestling Dontaku tour tomorrow, with a house show from Kumamoto that will not be streamed. I may or may not write about it tomorrow, might leave it til Saturday. In case I do that, NJPW Strong this week has a Young Lion Special, with three matches focusing on the Young Lions of the LA Dojo. Could be a fun one! That’s at 10pm EDT / 9pm CDT Friday on NJPWWorld.

- 4/30/2021, Kumamoto Grand Messe

Yota Tsuji v. Gabriel Kidd

YOH [CHAOS], SHO [CHAOS] & Ryusuke Taguchi v. El Desperado, Yoshinobu Kanemaru & Minoru Suzuki [SZKG]

Taichi, Zack Sabre Jr. & DOUKI [SZKG] v. Tama Tonga, Tanga Loa & Jado [Bullet Club]

Hiroshi Tanahashi, Toru Yano [CHAOS], Hiroyoshi Tenzan, Tiger Mask IV & Master Wato v. EVIL, Yujiro Takahashi, Taiji Ishimori, Gedo & Dick Togo [Bullet Club]

Shingo Takagi, Tetsuya Naito, SANADA & BUSHI [Los Ingobernables] v. Will Ospreay, Great O-Khan, Aaron Henare & Jeff Cobb [United Empire]

#NJPW #new japan pro wrestling #wrestling satsuma no kuni #njsatsuma #kota ibushi #Shingo Takagi #jon moxley #Yuji Nagata #AEW #all elite wrestling #IWGP US Championship #WCW Monday Nitro #keiji mutoh #rizin #COVID-19 #njpwworld

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maljic · 4 years

Text

i have been working in the grocery industry practically my entire life. for many companies, and in many many positions. i’ve seen hurricane panic buys, i have seen post hurricane apocalypses, i have closed stores, and i have opened stores. i have been to backroom recoveries, i have worked small stores and big stores. i have seen h1n1, and i have now seen covid19. and even tho this is something unprecedented, all together it’s really not. the difference here is that it’s been going on for three weeks now and there is no end in sight. the duration is what’s so new.

so i’ve started making notes every day after i got home. just the overall experience, but also customer comments and new things being implemented. it’s a fascination change, and i wanted to write it down to maybe sometime in the future come back to this time and remember anew.

i plan on keeping notes for the foreseeable future, to keep writing a diary of sorts, to see if this ever levels out or escalates even more, if things change drastically or not at all. and if the fucking toilet paper situation ever goes away.

things started to change the first week of march. it was super subtle, i didn’t even notice it at first. it was just a steady increase in business. a solid 20% ahead in sales all across the board. and even tho the virus was already in the news it didn’t cotton on right from the start. or it did, maybe, but i wasn’t expecting it to escalate to such heights.

tuesday, 03.10.2020 9am - 5pm

people are making their own hand sanitizer by mixing rubbing alcohol and aloe vera. we’re out of both. lady is asking me by the sun tan section about the state of deliveries of aloe vera gel. we get to talking. i admit that i don’t understand the people’s need for hand sanitizer since the cdc and every doctor ever recommends hand washing first and foremost. Susan comes out and says, ‘well the only thing that really can safe us from all this is...” and i retort with, “washing your hands, right?” but Susan claps back with, “the lord jesus christ.” and i had to excuse myself real quick and leave her ass on the aisle, because why are you fucking here then trying to potion together your own hand sanitizer, Severus, if all you need is god?

a grown woman that’s working at the register is. coughing. non. stop. co workers comment on it to each other and to me, and i wonder if anyone has taken her aside to explain the current state of world events to her, and maybe asking her to cover her damn mouth. we’re all gonna die.

thursday, 03.12.2020 2pm - 10pm 11pm

parking is an absolute nightmare. i’m 10 mins late cause i can’t find a spot. welcome to hell. i ask my boss what the sales were yesterday and she says we’re 40% ahead of the forecast. which is ridiculous. at this point it’s pretty much a blanket permission for over time. we do not have the capacity to continue to run at this pace. people get worn out, we’re bound to get sick, and the customers are fucking relentless. truck is big. Karen and her brother Chad look at the soap section and wanna know when we get more hand sanitizer in.

this lady is looking at things in the cold and flu section and we get to talking about shit and she mentions something she’s read on facebook and whoops my filter went poofgone and i tell her that i hope facebook dies along with all this corona virus flu and have a good evening.

at the end of my shift after we’ve finished stocking and cleaning up, i stay longer because there’s still a fuck ton of people in the store but we only have two registers open. i check people out until 11 and then peace out. one dude dropped $650 on groceries.

friday, 03.13.2020 11am - 7pm

“where is the hand sanitizer?” Karen asks. i refrain from shouting at her to get outta my face. the store is absolutely packed. lines of lengths i haven’t ever witnessed. lines and lines of people with full bascarts of stuff. the end is nigh and we are here with a front row view of it. we have a small parking lot, and i have no idea where these people’s cars are? i didnt know we could fit that many people in the store. whats the fire marshall’s max capacity guidelines? someone should review those. meanwhile i’m trying to navigate around everybody and put things on shelves that don’t last very long.

the grocery truck arrives around 3 ish and paper products get thrown out first. usually, when the truck arrives it stays locked until the night crew shows up. we’re set up to always have a trailer at the store, so when the guy shows up he unhitches his trailer, and hitches up under another trailer which was the previous day’s grocery truck, which got emptied off groceries when the night crew stocks, and then got filled with stacks of empty pallets, paper bales, and other reusable thinks like plastic trays the meat comes in, or the eggs come in, or produce plastic trays, things like that. so now that we’re in the apocalypse of paper products, the day crew gets those pallets out on the sales floor asap. at this point we have reduced the quantities of things you’re allowed to take to 3. 3 packs of toilet paper, 3 packs of paper towels... also 3 of lysol wipes and 3 of hand sanitizers even tho we dont have any, calm down, Karen. paper products are gone within an hour.

my company makes an absolute killing that day.

saturday, 03.14.2020 10ish to whenever.

my boss said she was coming in (on her off day) so i said yo, mind if i sleep in a bit? i was scheduled 7am and if i don’t have to i don’t want to. she said ok. i rock up at 10:08. things stop showing up on deliveries. the diaper area is sad looking. people have started to buy us out of baby wipes. there’s a problem coming at us in about 2 months. you cant flush baby wipes but since the toilet paper situation is what it is, people will wipe their butts with wet wipes. have fun with that, dallas county utility department (or whoever messes with the water wastes).

displays are dwindling. we are not getting product, so we are filling the shelves in the aisles with the stuff that’s on displays. it’s a bit wonky looking. there’s half an endcap with shampoo and then the rest of it is filled with hersheys. its upside down world. but we have to keep things full. with whatever. empty shelves are bad bad bad, but empty endcaps are a cardinal sin.

people waste so much food when they’re shopping. now that the shelves are getting and staying empty, people will just put things everywhere when they decide against buying the items. bags of chips, six packs of beer, gatorade whatever. that’s not really waste. but we also see bags of salad, frozen items, meats. we are currently not in the position to walk the store every half hour and collect these things. these things are all now wasted and will get thrown out. not the chips, i’m talking about the temp controlled things. being cold to the touch is not enough. shit aint safe.

monday, 03.16.2020 8am - 4 pm 6pm

truck is gigantic. never ever have i seen a truck that big. so everything that my boss was fantasizing about me doing gets thrown out the window when the truck hits the backdoor at 11 am. everybody who is scheduled for truck is given the option to come in early. and stay until it’s all stocked. or until you’re exhausted. i help with the pharmacy stuff because that’s the biggest part. i stay until 6pm. then i’m out.

people would like to know where the hand sanitizer is, well, sugar, so. do. i. it’s the one item that has been out since the end of february, and people are absolutely gob smacked when you tell them it’s currently unavailable. i try to appease them with some hand soap, but, stupidly, people dont want to hear that. i’m thinking to myself that in about a week soap will also be unavailable, but to each their own. customers believe that we, the workers, know the exact day and time when lysol wipes will be stocked. but when you tell them that soap is getting scarce they look at you like you’re speaking a different language.

company wide, we are not allowed to order anything right now. which is huge. how it usually works is: our system knows at all times how many items we have in the store, as per bar code, and knows how much will fit on the shelves, how much we’re selling every day/hour, and then there’s the forecasting factor. so the system will order stuff based on sold quantities, automatically. all the time. if we need extra stuff for sales and/or displays and whatnot, we order extra.

the computer system wouldnt know, for instance, that there was a tornado in oct that wiped out our electricity and that of most of our customers, so we changed orders to reflect that. no frozen things, lots more batteries, ice, coolers.

a lot of things ride on added orders, which are now out

from here on in, everything is up to the system, and to the powers that be. if there’s soap in the warehouse, we will get allocated with every store in the area so that everyone gets equal amounts or close to. hoarding is, apparently, frowned upon at this level too.

tuesday, 03.17.2020 2pm - 10pm

i have come to hate the soap aisle. used to always be my favorite. so long, soap aisle, we’ve had a good run. tonight i’m stocking the pharmacy area (cold and flu, pain meds, tummy stuff, those sort of things). truck is small. super small. i try helping customers as much as i can, but most of my end of the conversation is no, sorry, we dont have any. backstocks are dwindling. the backroom is emptying out. we rely on truck deliveries for things to do and products to be put out. “do you have any [insert product here] in the back?” is the most asked questions. “there’s nothing in the back.” is the most uttered sentence all day.

people obviously do to not get what social distance means. every aisle is packed with shoppers. i’m wasting a lot of time trying to stay out of people’s paths, but people lingeeeerrrrr what the fuck. the mayor of dallas shut everything down to flatten the curve yet here all these fuckers are doing their god damn grocery shopping like it’s 3 months ago. get in, get stuff, get out. i try conjuring up some gas to clear the aisle, but the farts won’t come

go home, people. i wish i could.

somehow our store has become the hub in our area. we get trucks in the afternoon with produce and meat, and people from other stores around us show up in trucks and suvs to transport product between stores. i’ve seen so many people that i hadn’t seen in years because they’re coming by getting shit in the afternoon.

we lost one of our baristas. she’s retired but works with us the maximal allotted hours per week the government allows you before they yank your money. she’s living in senior housing (cause its cheap) and they’ve completely locked down and she is unable to come to work. her boss funnels her groceries. and they face time a lot. she’s doing ok.

wednesday, 03.18.2020 10am - 6pm

parking lot semi full, too full for a wednesday. toilet paper situation is unchanged. but alas there’s no grocery truck scheduled tonight so this is not changing until tomorrow. i’m talking to three separate people desperate for some toilet roll (lol, i love how this pandemic makes me learn new terms, hi, united kingdom, i see you - toilet roll, i love it). anyways, i explain to all three the truck schedule and how to best strategize to get some butt wipes: truck is 6 days a week, wednesday being the no truck day. when the truck arrives, usually what happens is that the paper products get stocked immediately, to make room in the back room and to alleviate the situations. be in the store at around 3ish? 3:30ish, and hang out. i explain that i don’t want to encourage anybody to spend their afternoon in the store for obvi reasons, but when you gotta go you gotta go. alternately, hang out in your car, and when you see a truck pull behind the store around mid day, chances are in about 30 mins you shall have paper. people appreciate the info.

i’m in the candy aisle trying to stock a case of twizzlers. we’re using shopping carts to stock, it’s way more flexible than lugging around huge stocking carts, especially now with the store being so crowded. this dude rocks up and asks me if i’m panic hoarding with all those boxes in my cart. he looks at me with a straight face and thinks he’s making a point. meanwhile i’m in full uniform and people around are starting to roll their eyes. i drop the box of twizzlers into my cart (its super heavy and dude is creating a scene). my box cutter comes out and i make a show of clicking the blade out while explaining to douche canoodle that i’m working here, excuse me, and cut into the tape of the box. moron.

there’s a few people that i’ve seen every day this week. and they’re all advanced in their age. i get that the store is your second home cause you’re lonely, but right now is really not the time. go home.

the question i hate the most is: when are you gonna get more soap in. the honest answer? no fucking clue, Karen. if i could predict the future i wouldn’t be working here.

thursday, 03.19.2020 10am - 6pm

there was no grocery truck last night so shelves are still as empty as they were when i left last night. still, parking lot is semi full. we’ve seem to have gotten a decent produce truck, bananas everywhere. great. my boss’s plan for me is to: whatever truck is back there, and then easter. which means i walk the back room, collect anything and everything that belongs to our department, and get it on the shelves. there’s nothing back there except a chocolate delivery which arrived on the dairy truck. a huge amount, by normal standards. at least people are still enjoying some candy.

by 3pm it’s made the rounds that one of the guys for our dept isn’t coming in: allergies. okay then. truck is not too big, i help out with that until it’s time to hit the time clock.

times are tough, and i’m a good-natured person that can dish out jokes and emphasize with you and cumbaja we’re all in this together and all the other bullshit we’re telling ourselves to make us feel better. but when dudebro comes down the soap aisle and bemoans the state of the shelves (empty) and then goes into a rant about his two parents, immunocompromised, at home, out of soap, almost getting loud and making it seem like its my fault that we don’t have what you want, then no. i’m all out of fucks to give. meanwhile, people of the free world, have you forgotten that hand washing soap does not only come in little pump bottles that you can cutsify your sink with but also LOOK AT ALL THE BARSOAP, back in the days we used that to wash our hands. calm down and take some irish spring to your parents.

grocery truck arrives. big time. in the good ole days of yester year we would get one trailer daily, most of the time not even full. we’ve been ramping it up to 2 most of the last two weeks. (and by we i mean we as a society, buying everything on the shelves and not being satisfied and always wanting more). today it was three. one of which with nothing but water. the others with lots of toilet roll and paper towels. and the usual stuff of canned goods and the likes. nothing will last tho, nothing is forever.

we have this one guy who works here who has, i believe, severe arthritis and is hygiene wise very challenged. he isn’t very mobile and does super light duty but he’s worked here a long time. i haven’t seen him in a few days. i wonder if he is just off, or if he said fuck it and stayed home.

the grown ass woman at the register is still coughing. and not covering her mouth. asswipe.

saturday 03.21.2020 7am - 3pm 6pm

“when do you expect more hand sanitizer in?”

i have no idea what you’re talking about, hand sanitizer was never a thing. lemme ask you this: is it berenstein bears where you come from?

people still want to shop brand loyal. i die inside a little bit every time someone turns their nose up at an alternative to their regular, “oh but we don’t use that brand.” dude didn’t you just say you needed vitamin c? was that a lie? here’s the damn vitamin c. it’s vitamin c, not, i don’t know, fucking coca cola. go home.

corporate finally came down and said we’re allowed to wear ppe now. like some of us haven’t since three weeks ago. i finally turned and went all ‘two by two hands of blue’ as well, and it’s really not as bothersome as i thought it would be.

weekends are now slower than weekdays. i have no idea why that is. and i’m not really sure if these past weekends have been slow, or just normal, and the weekdays are just crazy. i have lost all points of reference. it’s still busy. but is it the same busy it’s always been on a saturday and now we just have more checkers?

the company is desperately trying to hire more people. i don’t know if the new vigorous ad campaign is working yet? it’s a job, sure, especially in these times, but the starting pay is still barely above minimum wage so in any case people will collect unemployment which could still be more than they’d make working here i’m just saying.

the only real perk right now is that whoever works for a grocery store has first dibs on stuff. and if you believe we don’t have a “family and friends stash” in the back of all the items that are scarce then you don’t know how the world works. a friend of mine with health problems came to shop at our store today because we do have more stuff than what i’ve been hearing is going on in surrounding areas. and i was able to give her two cans of disinfectant wipes. another friend asked me if we had any loo roll, and they just came by my place to pick it up, cash on arrival.

we also extend (or well, i do extend) the stash to customers who always have been courteous. and believe me, after working in one location for a few years you know exactly who’s an asshole and who isn’t. we are essential, we are important, and we’ve been known that forever. we just never got treated like that. people are thankful that we’re working, that we’re doing our best (like if we could afford to just take two weeks off to self isolate, yeah right), and it’s good to finally walk the store with your head held high, to finally feel the appreciation. we are the kings of the toilet paper and it’s fucking fantastic.

the store manager (or the company, i’m not sure) bought lunch today for everybody. and there might be a texas rule of no gatherings of more than 10 people, but y’all should’ve seen the break room today at noon. we they feasted (i took two slices and went out back to enjoy) thanks for lunch, boss.

we still haven’t implemented “senior hours,” and i hate that.

hygiene challenged dude is back at work. so he just had his two days off.

monday 03.23.2020 12pm - 9pm

people keep insisting on shopping “normally” and it’s mind boggling. if you go to the store for 5 things or 50 things, it’s fine either way. but please make a list at home and roll with it. do not linger in aisles, do not pick up 3 different items and stand there to study the, i don’t know what the fuck, ingredients? country of origin? manufacturer? i have no earthly idea why you gotta look at a bottle of suave shampoo so intently and just. stay. there. reading it like its a new product on the market. go home.

people just waste so much freakin time in the store. they run into acquaintances and have to have a conversation right there when other customers have to walk around you. please stop, please please stop that. please. get in, get your stuff, and get out. if we dont have your fave available right now come back next week, it’s bound to be back unless it’s something like hand sanitizer or over the counter meds. please. go home.

the shopping pattern has changed. there’s all the action in the mornings now. tons of people, full parking lots, all in the morning. i understand it’s because people are under the impression everything gets restocked over night. which is half true. but whatever. i mean people shop all throughout the day and it’s still busy but the bulk is in the morning.

speaking of: senior hours finally!!! i’m stoked.

i feel like i’m getting fed up with customer questions so it’s usually short retorts and no eyes contact. one guy asked me where the aloe vera is and he asked very friendly and from a few feet away and i was sort of a dick to him. i felt bad immediately and rephrased my answer. yikes.

on the upside also, my work buddy was throwing water all day long. poor guy. he said something like 9 pallets of 24 packs. at one point they were replenishing a display and people grabbed water from the display instead of the pallet, and he was like, “you guys are killing me, man, please take it from the pallet and not the display. every pack you take from the pallet is a pack less i have to move.” a couple of dudes then took over stocking duty from him and threw the rest of the pallet to fill the display. how fucking nice. good eggs all around.

backroom looks like we got a crap ton of paper products. a crap ton. something like, i’m estimating, 12 pallets. so they’ve been staggering it throughout the afternoon but also kept lots in the back for senior hours tomorrow morning. it really looks like that part is getting almost back to normal. lmao fingers crossed.

no eggs tho, today. all gone.

hot shot trucks still show up in the afternoon with produce and meat. and other stores still come by to transfer stuff to their location.

company lunch today was from torchy’s taco. i abstained cause i had just eaten at home. but gatherings of 10 or more people had been had in the break room again. no idea if it was paid for by our company or if torchy’s was just getting rid of a bulk of their perishables.

some dude threw a fit about the limits on certain items. i think his beef was with water and how he’s seen someone take more than three. calm down, asshole.

tuesday 03.24.2020 10am - 5pm

it’s slow in the store. dallas county has a shelter in place ordinance right now and it’s just a slow and steady trickle of customers. the weather also has turned from grey and misty, to sunshine and 80ies. i hate it. i want my grey and misty back. and because it’s nice outside there’s a lot of people on walks and bike rides. there’s a trail behind the store and when i step out back i see people all the times. still keeping their social distance but people non the less.

we’ve finally got our hands on one of the people from the agency that has provided us with help. our girl is super nice and friendly and she works hard. i hope we’ll get to keep her in our department for however long theyre working with us. altogether there’s about 15-20 people in the store from the agency. they’re tasked with sacking groceries, cleaning shopping carts, cleaning shelves and helping to stock. it’s wonderful. they get paid $13, which is more than what you make starting out in the store.

it almost felt like it wasn’t a covid day. after what the covidiot in the wh said on monday, i was a bit unsure if non essentials would reopen (especially since the mayor just shut dallas down). it was weird. it seemed like customers stayed away because a) they went back to work or b) it’s too nice to grocery shop. but that’s prob only my stupid brain making things up.

there were two incidents, both of which weren’t covid related but needed security: a dude tried to walk out with two cases of beer (theft is a thing that happens in our store a lot) but somehow he had half the store chasing after him. i was outside taking my break when all the sudden this guy comes towards me with beer in each hand. where i was, there was no exit away from the store unless you wanted to jump the fence. and he sure did. launched himself and the beer over it. they chased him off (no one touched him, i wanna add, and no one would touch him too, even if we weren’t in the current time), but got their beer back. that was an adrenaline shock i didn’t need. the second one was a lady at the pharmacy not happy with the speed of the pharmacist and she got upset that her meds weren’t ready to be picked up. she made quite a scene with cursings and such so security was called. they are doing their best at the pharmacy but just like every other department they are swamped with prescriptions.

it was super slow and i left an hour early. went home and ate and passed out for 12 hours.

wednesday 03.25.2020 7am - 3pm

it’s probs the first time i’m on the road this early on a weekday during the self isolation period. it’s quite busy on the highway. but still no real traffic.

store is still slow but steady. i see a few customers with big bascarts and shopping lists going about their business urgent like. on the inside i was applauding their readiness and their commitment for getting it done. thank you dear customers. buy a whole cart and get the heck outta dodge. *chefs kiss*

help girl from the agency is with me today. i like her more and more. she gets it all done. baby wipes are still off and on, some days we have them, sometimes we’re out. we found 3 small cases of hand soap in the back (6 bottles each) and they are gone quickly. i’m working through shippers/displays (we’ve finally got a smattering in) but most of it goes straight to the shelves. i’m able to make some sense to one of the half shampoo/half hersheys end caps, and my eye finally stops twitching from the weirdness.

grocery truck schedule has changed and now we’re getting them also on wednesdays (for the time being). one trailer of toilet roll and paper towels, and one of canned goods and boxes and pantry stuffs. and maybe some lysol but who knows.

it’s still sunny and 80ies out, so more runners and bikers on the trail behind the store. still social distancing tho.

the news said someone from a grocery store of another chain was diagnosed. and then through the grapevine i heard that someone from our chain (not our store) also got diagnosed and is in the hospital. wash your hands. get in, get your stuff, and get out. stay safe out there.

friday 03.27.2020 9am - 5pm

there’s this lady in the store, little old lady, just wandering and shopping and whatnot for, i kid you not, 2 hours. what in the world? she’s wearing a mask, kinda like a “let me put this mask on cause i’m sanding something in the garage” you know that kind of mask. but it’s only covering her mouth? what is she doing. where is your family? do they know where you are and what you’re up to. seriously someone come get their auntie.

there’s stickers all over the floor by the registers “PLEASE WAIT HERE” reminding people to stay the heck away from each other. it’s working sometimes. people are patient.

this one lady asks me if we have this, and shows me her phone with a pic of the item like she is seriously standing 6 feet away stretching her arm as far as it’ll go. i appreciate it. she insists that the app tells her it’s in stock here. i ran out of ways to explain that the app doesnt keep up with inventory, only states that we carry it, not whether we actually have it in stock. it’s a surface disinfectant. we dont have it in stock.

rando people say their thanks that we’re working, that they appreciate it, thank you thank you. i have yet to learn how to respond to that. “youre welcome?” “oh sure!” “no problem” nothing feels right. me and my co workers all wish we could work from home, or take a few weeks off, without losing our jobs and benefits. it’s weird. how do you respond to that?

we’ve managed to stay in stock on toilet tissue all day long. one brand, one size, mind you. but! all day long! yes, toilet paper, on aisle 18!!!!

sales have leveled. business is returning to normal.

saturday 03.28.2020 7am - 3 pm

some lady lost her cool today and in her frustration she dead ass kicked over a display of gum. lmao, yikes.

every morning we have a little meeting in the store for all the department heads, or if they’re off, for whoever plays department head for that day. on saturdays that’s me. we call them huddles, although now we can’t call them that anymore because huddle doesn’t really scream social distancing. so now they’ll call it morning communication.

while walking the store today i found, get this, a bottle of purell. it was hidden behind other product. i immediately checked my surroundings (no one there) and then went and hid it in the back room. my immuno challenged friend had asked me for some for a while.

really nothing else going on. it was quiet in the morning and then a storm blew through, and then it was just gorgeous out. so the store got busier and busier. our truck was scheduled to be quite big, but it was late and i wasn’t gonna just hang around until who knows when.

monday 03.30.2020 2pm - 10pm

the break room is completely empty of chairs and tables. that’s new. just last week everyone crowded in, employees and management alike, whenever there was free lunch. and even tho one tells them, or points out that, hey, this is a bit more than technically should be in a closed space like this? all one gets back is, oh hahaha, yeah you’re probably right, but nothing changed. so now the break room is empty. only, i dont know, everyone here works on their feet, either standing (poor checkers) or standing and walking. for up to eight hours. there’s gonna be some people who will just have to sit down for 30 mins during their breaks. this was a company wide, or district wide decision, this wasn’t something our management came up with. and here’s the thing. admittedly, some higher ups in our company are seriously not the sharpest tacks in the box. and i’m not saying that you have to have a degree to make certain decisions, but it helps if you have some sort of, i don’t know, compassion, deductive reasoning, two brain cells to rub together. i, personally, will hardly be found in the break room, i don’t use it. but it’s absolutely clear to me that taking away the opportunity to let people rest is a recipe for disaster.

tuesday, 03.31.2020 2pm - 10pm

so, the owner of the dallas mavericks (basket ball) donated hand sanitizers to our company, for use of company employees. which, thanks, Mark, that was super sweet of you. no really. IF I SEE ONE CO WORKER USE THIS INSTEAD OF WASHING THEIR HANDS I WILL NOT BE MADE RESPONSIBLE FOR MY ACTIONS. wash your god damned hands people. hand sanitizer will never be able to do what soap and water can do. why is that such a big problem to understand.

the break room has a couple of chairs and tables in it now, and a sign on the door that reads “6 people limit, 6 feet apart.” yikes.

its the end of the month and people got paid so the store is getting busier. tomorrow is the first and i’m sure we’ll be packed. please take the following to heart: SHOP ALONE. don’t bring your wifey or hubby or roommate or kids. ok bring your kids if you have no one to watch them. do not use the grocery store as your family outing cause its the only spot you think youre allowed to go. it’s not. youre allowed to go for walks, in front of your house, in your neighborhood, heck, walk a circle around the store if you want, but don’t bring everybody into the store. social distancing is easier achieved if there’s less people to stay away from. be smart, think ahead. and if you think that shopping with two people makes it go faster? it’s not. cause you’re gonna argue over the choices made, you’re gonna veto your shopping buddies choice of beans and your gonna walk every aisle twice instead of once. and there will be more people touching more things and i could really do with less of that.

wednesday 04.01.2020 11am - 7pm

there’s a distillery in kansas who has converted their production to make hand sanitizer (or sanitizer in general) and we have received a shipment of, i think, two pallets. the fun part? they are the size and shape of vodka bottles.

they’re selling for $8 and we put a limit of 1 per family. they look super neat. it’s a plastic bottle, too. i don’t use hand sanitizer and i dont need it and there are people who need these i guess but i want one so badly. just as a, you know, reminder, a token, of these crazy times. i’m not gonna get one (but i kinda want one).

they have finally installed screens at the registers. and new rules came down from corporate: social distancing is the highest priority, hygiene is the highest priority. we are only going to operate 3 (out of 6) registers so that we can ensure that there’s enough space for everyone to feel safe. i have also spent 2 hours today thinning out displays that are cluttering up the sales floor so that we can encourage everyone to keep apart.

starting tomorrow, every employee will get their temp taken when they arrive to work. if the temp is too high you will be sent home (but paid for that day) and only be let back in to work if your temp stays normal for 72 hours without the help of meds.

pay has been increased by $2/h.

friday 04.03.2020 9am - 5pm

face masks everywhere.

like 80% of everybody started donning masks, scarves and homemade things to cover their lower face. face masks are a stark reminder that everyone should keep apart. it’s like an extra “hey, remember how we’re all potentially sick with something deadly? stay away.” i appreciate the effect it has.

there are about 5 different announcements over the PA, one about washing your hands and sneezing/coughing into your elbows, one about senior hours (which have changed now to tue, thu and sat morning), one about social distancing (about the length of two shopping carts!), one about “we’re all in this together” and one about us employees and how we’re doing so much more than our job right now.

ive stopped greeting customers. i smile maybe, since it’s something so ingrained into our brain, but i won’t speak unnecessarily.

the store is absolutely packed. the suggestion of staying away until the 3rd or the 4th that ive seen all over the internets seems to have cottoned on and now we’re slammed. with only 3 registers open now (to keep room between registers) the lines are down the aisles. one of the guys on the registers told me he loved it. it’s waaay less crowding around the registers, safer for the workers).

we have two entrances (the main one and a smaller one) and they closed the smaller one because it’s very tight there and doesn’t really work with trying to stay away from each other. it’s not locked, it’s just closed. no idea about the fire marshall code, but i have worked in bigger stores with only one main entrance so maybe it’s not part of any code.

i saw a woman with a vegas golden knights shirt and i miss hockey.

saturday 04.04.2020 7am - 5:30pm

my first day during senior hours, and admittedly we’ve only recently changed that but there are tons of people in the store and not a lot of seniors. but what do i know they all could be immunocompromised.

in our morning huddle communications meeting the store manager is spitting out a lot of numbers and percentiles and such, basically sales are still through the roof, even with the slower week we’ve had. it’s funny how there’s really no reference point anymore. forecasts and budgets have all been altered due to the situation but even those are still behind. the agency people aren’t with us anymore (since sunday) and i can see maybe 2 new people - but i’m not a reliable source for that because i don’t inter-mingle with other departments that much so i dont even know the regulars so i have no clue who is new. but we’re still running on basically the same people we’ve always had with this increased business.

aceotone is the new toilet paper. cant find it on the shelves, the warehouse is out and people are constantly asking for it. this one guy had me in stitches. he was shopping for the fam and had a list from his wife and you know, acetone, cuticle cream all the stuff you need to take care of your nails after you rip off the fake ones. i used to get my nails done so i gave him advice as best i could and pointed to some products, but no acetone. about five minutes later she finds me on the same aisle again and shows me a can of paint stripper with the word acetone in huge letters on it. i died. i told him that if his wife used that they are about to have a whole other set of problems. we both laughed. he had a great sense of humor. now go home, dude.

the side door that was closed on friday is open again. not surprised.

we are getting absolutely slammed with business. it’s a mad house. you can always tell when people start to park their cars on the fire lanes around the store. there’s just no more parking.

i do see a lot of single shoppers tho, which is so great. and then you got the families just sticking out like sore thumbs. and young college kids usually shop in threes or fours. but everybody is still taking way too much time. there was an article i read on local grocers and how some already reduced the people inside the stores and how every business is going to follow suit so we will see.

we ran out of eggs. and biscuits. and no significant numbers of paper products all week.

monday 04.06.2020 2pm - 10pm

fuck these customers, man

wednesday 04.08.2020 7am - 3pm

my company will not limit the customer count in the store. at least not in this state. when the whole thing started there was an email about store hours and they listed basically every division of our company and their changed hours - except, you guessed it, ours. i have a feeling they are going off of what other companies are doing around here, so unless theyre limiting people, we won’t. that’s my opinion. after work i realized i forgot butter and swung by a store (from a different company) close to home and they havent limited entrance either. they did have markings on the floor to encourage one way traffic down aisles, and i guess we’re gonna do that too. but nothing else. i did see smaller chains have started to limit people but not companies we’re competing with. so much for that. i guess first we need to have a few positive cases in order for them to change anything. the dollar speaks volumes, eh?

i saw this article a few days ago and i keep thinking about it. it basically sums up everything that’s going through all our minds every day. (i have no idea who this website is, i saw it and i read it and it spoke to me so dont come at me if it’s something weird - i just wanted to provide a source)

I manage a grocery store.

Here’s some things everyone should know

1. I don’t have toilet paper 2. I don’t have sanitizer 3. I run out of milk, eggs and meat daily 4. I promise if it’s out on the shelf … it’s not in a hidden corner of our backroom.

Those are the predictable ones, now for the real stuff

5. I have been doing this for 25 years I did not forget how to order product. 6. I did not cause the warehouse to be out of product/ 7. I schedule as much help as I have, including many workers working TONS of overtime to help YOU. 8. I am sorry there are lines at the check out lanes.

Now for the really important stuff:

9. My team puts themselves in harm’s way every day so you can buy groceries. 10. My team works tirelessly to get product on the floor for you to buy. 11. My team is exhausted. 12. My team is scared of getting sick. 13. My team is human and does not possess an antivirus… they are in just as much danger as you are. (Arguably more) but they show up to work every day just so you can buy groceries 14. My team is tired. 15. My team is very under-appreciated. 16. My team is exposed to more people who are potentially infected in one hour than most of you will in a week (medical community excluded, thank you for all that you do!). 17. My team is abused all day by customers who have no idea how ignorant they are. 18. My team disinfects every surface possible, everyday, just so you can come in grab a wipe from the dispenser, wipe the handle and throw the used wipe in the cart or on the ground and leave it there… so my team can throw it in the trash for you later. 19. My team wonders if you wash your re-usable bags, that you force us to touch, that are clearly dirty and have more germs on them than our shopping carts do. 20. My team more than earns their breaks, lunches and days off. And if that means you wait longer I am sorry.

The last thing I will say is this:

The next time you are in a grocery store, please pause and think about what you are saying and how you are treating the people you encounter. They are the reason you are able to buy toilet paper, sanitizer, milk, eggs, and meat.

If the store you go to is out of an item.. maybe find the neighbor or friend that bought enough for a year … there are hundreds of them… and ask them to spare 1 or 2. They caused the problem to begin with…

And lastly, please THANK the people who helped you. They don’t have to come to work!

#i dont know how to tag it i hate to tag it covid #i think it's gonna be #life in these pandemic times #thanks stumblingoverchaos

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camillemontespan · 5 years

Text

skinny cappuccino with an extra shot [AU: drake walker x mc]

Was feeling down today so wrote this when I got home to feel better and I guess it worked. Fluffy AU, Cake style!

@jovialyouthmusic @pug-bitch @sirbeepsalot @moonlightgem7 @drakesensworld @dcbbw @notoriouscs @ifyouseekheart @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore @be-still-my-aching-heart @katedrakeohd @iplaydrake

Oh, also I was taught this technique for making cappuccino and lattes when I was working as a waitress when I was 18 (you’ll see what I mean). Thanks for that, Jason. Creep (thought it did actually make me really good at making coffee?!)

*****************************************************************************************

Monday

'So, the trick to remembering how to make the right foam for a latte and foam for a cappuccino is basically, treat it like a blowjob. If it's a latte, you really want to heat up the whole of the milk so put the spout right in the jug and do your thing, kinda like a deep throat. For cappuccino, focus just on the tip of the spout, which on my opinion, is the best way to do it.'

Drake groaned and rested his head on the counter as he listened to Leo 'train' the new girl at making coffee. If he could rip his ears off so he couldn't hear any more of Leo's shit, he would do it.

Monday morning, 8.00am, and already Drake wanted to go home. He worked two jobs, this day job as a barista and a bartender at night. He was exhausted from working non stop recently but he needed the cash to pay for his crappy apartment.

'Um, excuse me?'

Drake quickly pulled his head up from the counter and saw the girl was stood in front of him.

Well, the girl was called Camille. They had never actually talked but she had started coming into the coffee shop every morning for the past three days and gave her name whenever she ordered her skinny cappuccino with an extra shot.

So no, despite the fact he knew her name coffee order and that she was one of the first people he saw each morning, he didn't know her.

Drake kind of wanted to change that but he wasn't sure how. She probably had a boyfriend.

'Uh hey, sorry!' he said, blushing. She smiled. 'Early start huh?'

He blushed harder. Smooth. 'Yeah, two jobs you know, I can barely function.. Uh, you want to order?'

'Yeah, skinny cappuccino -'

'With an extra shot,' Drake finished for her. She blinked and Drake wanted the ground to swallow him up. I am such a creep.

'Yes please,' she answered after a moment, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear and smiled shyly. Drake gave her a thumbs up -really man?- and got to work making her coffee order. Even though he knew her name by writing it on the takeaway cup the past three times she had come in, he didn’t want to completely freak her out so he asked her.

‘It’s Camille,’ she told him. Drake smiled at her and wrote her name on the cup. Camille rummaged around in her handbag and Drake took the moment to watch her. He could make great coffee without having to concentrate.

He wondered what she worked as. Clearly a corporate job from the clothes she always wore. She always looked polished and elegant; today, she was wearing a white trench coat which hung open over a white silk shirt, black cigarette trousers and black high heels. Delicate chains of gold necklaces were draped around her neck.

‘Dude, you’re so into her,’ Leo whispered in Drake’s ear. Drake reddened and looked down at the coffee machine. Camille’s phone began to ring and she answered the call. ‘Morning Maxwell.’

Drake’s heart sank. She definitely had a boyfriend then.

He concentrated on foaming the milk, not Leo’s way, but he still caught snippets of her conversation. ‘Yeah, I’m going to the Beaumont Bash, obviously. I do work for your brother.’

She began to circle around slowly, her heels clicking against the tiled floor. ‘Yup, Hana’s coming too, and Liv. Don’t worry, it’s going to be a great party.’

Drake began to sprinkle chocolate powder on top of her coffee. She hadn’t asked for it but he guessed she liked chocolate powder; just a feeling.

‘Oh my God, no llamas! Remember last time when the sheep got out?’ Camille laughed. Drake popped the lid onto the takeaway cup and his eyes met hers. She smiled and gave him a wink. Drake did a double take - he never took her for a winker. Also, he really wanted to ask about the sheep but that would be creepy.

He raised a hand in goodbye and she mouthed, ‘see you later.’ He watched her leave the coffee shop, the scent of perfume trailing in her wake.

Tuesday

‘That’s too much foam.. very enthusiastic technique you have, Penelope!’ Leo joked to the trainee. Penelope blushed and started again.

Drake was leaning against the counter with a cup of black coffee. He had worked till 2am at the bar and had only had five hours sleep; he looked like shit. His hair was dishevelled, he hadn’t showered and he felt really, really grubby.

‘So, Liam’s actually not staying late at work tonight, can we stop by the bar for a few drinks?’ Leo asked. Drake shrugged. ‘Sure. Doubt he’d like my dive bar though. He’s classy.’

Leo chuckled. ‘He is but he can get down in the dirt with the rest of ‘em if needed!’

The door opened and Drake reluctantly turned around to serve the new customer. He stopped. It was Camille with a friend.

He wished he had grabbed a quick shower, even if just meant dunking his head under the tap in the sink. Hopefully she wouldn’t notice.

‘Morning,’ he greeted her. Camille grinned. ‘Hey there. Skinny cappuccino-’

‘With an extra shot,’ he interrupted. ‘Sure thing. You?’

He looked at the girl beside her. She was tall with dark tousled hair. ‘Ooooh.. decisions.. um, matcha tea, please,’ she said.

Drake nodded. ‘Cool. Name?’

‘Hana.’

Leo turned away from Penelope. ‘Hana, what a pretty name. You like matcha? The green goddess of teas!’

Hana stared at him, clearly trying to think of something to say to that. Camille pressed her lips together, clearly holding in laughter. Drake wrote Camille and Hana’s names on the takeaway cups and started to work at the coffee machine. His eyes met Camille’s. ‘So, busy day ahead?’ he asked.

She rolled her eyes. ‘Sadly. My firm’s throwing a party on Saturday and my boss’ brother is begging me to find ‘fun’ people to go.’

‘It’s an office party, it won’t be fun,’ Drake said dryly. Camille’s mouth quirked up at the corner. ‘It’s a Beaumont Bash, it’ll be epic.’

‘Beaumont Bash?’

‘Beaumont LLP? The biggest law firm in New York?’ she suggested. Drake shrugged. Camille smiled. ‘I’m a paralegal. The firm is notorious for throwing huge parties, it’s the highlight of the working year.’

Drake handed her the coffee. ‘You’re a paralegal? That’s awesome.’

Camille looked bashful as she took her cup. Drake handed her the matcha tea and their fingers brushed. ‘See you tomorrow,’ she said, raising her cup at him. Drake grinned then tried to balance it into a smile. He had looked too eager. Camille handed Hana her matcha tea and the two friends wandered out of the shop, laughing at a video Hana was showing Camille on her phone.

Wednesday

‘Fuck, foam, everywhere!’ Leo shouted, jumping backward as the milk foamed up and poured down to the floor.

‘Sorry, sorry!’ Penelope squealed, grabbing paper towels and trying to clean the mess up. Drake bent down to help her, ignoring Leo who was complaining that he ‘was sticky now and not the good kind of sticky.’

‘Sticky? Really?’ a voice drawled.

Drake and Leo looked at the counter to see a redheaded woman standing there, an expression of distaste on her face. Leo shot her his best flirty grin; it crooked up in the corner and looked somewhat lazy. Women loved it.

‘What can I getcha?’ Leo asked. The woman rolled her eyes and turned to Drake. ‘I’ll have a black coffee with one sugar.. a matcha tea, disgusting.. and a skinny cappuccino with an extra shot.’

Drake felt his heart skip. Only one customer at this time of day had that order. Sure enough, the door opened and in rushed Camille and Hana.

‘Sorry we’re late Liv! Hana forgot her folders so we had to run back to hers!’ Camille said, out of breath. The redhead waved her hand, impatient. ‘Whatever. I’ve ordered your drinks, bitches.’

Drake cleared his throat. ‘Uh, your name?’

The redhead barely looked at him. ‘Olivia.’

Camille waved at him shyly. ‘Morning.’

Drake smiled at her, pleased that she was acknowledging him. ‘Hey. How’s party planning?’

‘I was in the office till 10pm last night. Apparently my boss’ assistant can’t plan parties, so they had to ask a paralegal for help. Oh well, I got to order pizza straight to my desk!’ She looked genuinely pleased about this.

‘Liv, are you going to the bash?’ Hana asked. Olivia sighed. ‘I guess. I am part of the Marketing department. Just keep that walking sweater vest Bertrand away from me, okay? He gets more annoying than usual after a few drinks.’

‘You can’t talk about the Managing Partner that way..’ Hana whispered. Olivia shrugged and examined her fingernail.

Drake handed Camille her cappuccino. ‘Here you go.’

‘Thank you. Drake.’

He started when she said his name. ‘Whaa?’

She giggled. ‘Your name tag. You know my name, it’s about time I knew yours. Drake.’

The way she said his name sounded delicious.

Drake blushed and ran a hand through his hair. He heard Leo snort.

The rest of the drinks were made. ‘See you tomorrow,’ Camille said to him and Drake nodded, tongue tied. She knew his name now.

Thursday

‘Right, let’s get this right, okay? Latte- deep throat. Cappuccino- tip. Got it?’

Penelope nodded, terrified, as Leo kept discussing blowjobs. Drake chuckled and continued setting up the breakfast items at the counter. He had showered this morning, felt much fresher and he had made an effort today and wore his cologne. No specific reason, just...

Well, she hadn’t come in this morning. Her usual time of 8.00am had passed by 30 minutes ago and she hadn’t gotten her morning coffee. Drake felt disappointed and then felt pathetic that he actually missed her. He barely knew the woman.

He arranged the croissants, trying to work out if they were laid out nicely.

Ugh. This is my life.

The door burst open. ‘Aaaah I’m soooo late!’

It was Camille. Drake’s heart leapt and he abandoned the croissants to watch as she ran over to the counter. Her dark hair was pulled up into a messy bun and her face was free of makeup but still flawless. ‘Hey Drake. You know the order. Fuck, I slept in, I’m never late, ever!’

Drake laughed and began to make the cappuccino. ‘If you’re so late, why are you taking the time to get a coffee?’

Her face turned red and she began to trip over her words. ‘Uhh.. I love coffee that much, you know? Need it to function. Plus the coffee at work is shit,’ she babbled. Drake shook his head, smirking, and handed her the cappuccino. ‘Here. I’ve put in extra chocolate sprinkles. You need it.’

Camille grinned. ‘I love chocolate sprinkles. Right, I’m away! Have a good day! Pray I don’t get fired for being late!’

The door slammed behind her and Drake sighed, going back to the croissants.

‘Dude,’ Leo said. ‘She is so into you.’

‘Shurrup Leo..’

‘She is late to work and still made time to get a coffee. Which means she got to see you. Drake, get on it! She’s hot! She’s sweet! Do it!’

Drake ignored him but the thought did stick in his mind for the rest of the day as he made more coffee. Stop it. She has a boyfriend; a girl like her always does.

Friday

‘Okay, I practised making foam all night!’ Penelope said excitedly as she rushed into the shop. Drake and Leo were sipping their coffees and planning an upcoming boys trip to Amsterdam, if Drake could save up for the funds. He had a feeling he wouldn’t be able to.

‘All night, Penelope?’ Leo replied. ‘I’m sure you did.’

Penelope frowned, confused, and Drake held in a laugh. That poor girl being constantly teased by Leo.

‘Oh, Drake, here’s your girlfriend!’ Leo stage whispered, eyeing the door. Drake looked up and sure enough, Camille was coming into the shop. Today, she was dressed in a purple bodycon dress and nude heels; Drake tried to ignore the fact that her dress hugged her body in all the right places.

‘Hey, Drake!’ she greeted him. Drake smiled. ‘Hey. So, how late were you yesterday?’

‘Twenty minutes. Worth it for the coffee though.’

Leo let out a laugh and Camille looked at him, to which Leo tried to cover his laughter by fake coughing. Drake started to make her cappuccino. ‘Glad you didn’t get fired anyway,’ he said, smiling gently, looking at her from under his hair.

Camille blushed and bit her lip, studying him. ‘What are you doing tonight?’ she asked him. Drake shrugged. ‘Working, serving drunk people, loving life, living the Walker dream.’

‘Walker?’

‘Drake Walker,’ he told her. ‘Pleased to meet you.’

She raised a hand. ‘Camille Montespan.’

Drake raised an eyebrow. ‘Montespan?’

She sighed. ‘I know. It’s French. So you’re working tonight?’

‘Sadly, yes.’

‘Which bar?’

‘Black Fox, Williamsburg.’

‘Awesome. See you at 9. You can serve me all the drinks I want.’

Camille gave him a wink and took her cappuccino. Drake blushed and said softly, ‘Happy to.’

She waved her fingers and left the coffee shop. Drake wanted it to be his shift at the bar already, just so he could see her.

#drake walker #drake walker x mc #trr fanfic #au

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taehyungiejiminie95 · 5 years

Text

The Necklace

Confused - Yoongi

Warning: Internalised homophobia, strong language

It is written in law that on a child’s 15th birthday, they will be presented with a necklace that will guide them to another necklace, belonging to whom their heart will. These necklaces are forged in the depths of an deep sea facility, and must be requested between the birth of the child and the child’s 1st birthday in order to be fashioned correctly. One must include a small vial of the child’s blood, a lock of their hair, and also sufficient DNA from both biological and (where appropriate) adoptive, fostered or guardians of the child. Failure to comply will result in the disobedient parties being punished accordingly, and the child will need to be taken under the observation of the facility. No child is permitted to surpass their 15th birthday without receiving this gift. Should this – for any reason – happen, the child should report this to their local authorities quickly so that this may be rectified.

You could swear that you know the cute pizza delivery guy. Something about that gummy smile and awkward attitude. It turns out that you do, and it gets much worse when you realise you have the same necklace. There’s just one problem with that - he swears he isn’t gay.

You sigh to yourself as you check your phone, wondering where in the hell your pizza is. It’s only been 20 minutes since you ordered, but you’re hungry, and that means you’re grumpy. Peeking out the curtains, you see a motorbike pull up across the road, and you jump in excitement, rolling over your bed to find a shirt as quickly as possible. You find some old band t-shirt from your emo days and tug it on quickly, before patting your hair down. Then the door knocks in a slightly peculiar way - two quick knocks, a pause, and then another. You think it’s kind of cute,

“Coming!” You shout, running through your apartment, trying not to fall over in your haste. In the back of your mind, you register the need to stop just wearing socks through the house, and either invest in some grippy ones, or just wear shoes. You know full well that you’ll end up hurting yourself at some point.

When you swing the door open, your jaw nearly drops. The man in front of you is absolutely stunning, and you nearly drool all over yourself as you look at him. His motorcycle helmet is matte black, and contrasts amazingly with the mint green fringe poking out of it. The man in a little shorter than you, and quite pale, save for the flustered blush painting his cheeks. You smile a little lopsidedly, leaning against the door frame. You definitely recognise him from somewhere,

“I have your pizza?” The man asks a little nervously, and a name comes to your mind - Yoongo, or something. Yoongi? Yongpo? You can’t remember exactly, but you have a distinct memory of him and some guy hooking up at a college party a few years back. Your smile pulls into a smirk, thinking that he’s game. You’ve always tried to be respectful when flirting with a guy, since a lot of people can be off about that kind of thing, but you definitely have some blurry memory of Yoongo/Yoongi/Yongpo being with your old friend Marcus at some point,

“I mean, I have money to pay you with, but I could umm… Pay in another way if you’d rather?” You say, dropping your voice an octave, and looking down at Yoongi as you bite your lip seductively. Maybe it’s not your best pick up line, and sure it is a little crude, but you’re finding it hard to restrain yourself around this man. It feels like something in your chest is drawing you to him, and your mind is a little foggy. Then the man replies, and the fog clears pretty quickly,

“No, money is perfectly fine. I’m not into that… stuff,” The man spits, his lips curling a little in disgust. In an instant, his face transforms from a perfectly sculpted angel to a snarling dog, looking at you with little more than utter hatred. You back away in shock, just knowing that your cheeks are bright red and there are tears in your eyes. It’s been a while since you’ve faced hate that blatant for being gay, but maybe that’s because you waited to finish college before you came out. You’d been scared that you’d get looked at exactly like this,

“Oh I’m sorry… I thought that… Never mind, here, keep the change, I’m so sorry,” You stutter nervously, trying not to let the tears slip as you snatch your pizza from him, barely registering that you just handed him a £50 note for a £15 order as you shut the door. With the barrier between the two of you, you don’t feel as vulnerable. You take a few deep breaths and screw your eyes shut tightly. For a minute or so, you just wait there, eyes shut. But the longer you think, the more you convince yourself that you were just seeing things. This is the 21st century. Nobody is that homophobic anymore, right?

As the night continues, you find yourself laughing at what had happened. You’re almost certain you’d just overreacted. You absolutely remember him at that party, with Marcus! He was sure as hell gay then, and you’d bet your pizza that it hasn’t changed. You can usually tell if someone isn’t gay, and you really weren’t getting those kinds of vibes from him. Maybe he just had a problem with the band t-shirt. You glance down at it and cringe at it yourself. Yeah, that’s probably it.

It gets to about 11pm and your brain is itching about his name. You’re sure it started with a ‘Y’ but you’re struggling to remember what came after that. With a sigh, you reach for your phone, reducing yourself to actually having to come into contact with people. Socialising is awful, but so is having someone’s name on the tip of your tongue all night. You pull up a random person you knew went to all the parties held during college and send a quick text, hating yourself for even caring enough to send a stupid text:

Me [11:07pm] Hey, I know it’s late but I think I saw someone from college and I can’t remember their name

Jamie [11:08pm] Woah bro, that sucks! Need a hand?

You roll your eyes at the prompt response. Nobody from college really has a life, so you’re hardly surprised. You also inwardly and outwardly cringe at the response of your old ‘friend’. He still talks like he’s in college, and he’s so painfully stupid that you want to bang your head against a wall. Of course you need help! Like you’d ever call for just a catch up!

Me [11:10pm] Please. I think his name begins with a ‘Y’. He delivers pizza now and he’s got green hair. Also, he’s probably got something against emo bands. Ring any bells?

Just as you hit send, you realise how stupid it sounds. You were just ridiculing your own peers for texting ridiculously, and yet here you are at a ludicrous hour thinking about some guy who clearly isn’t into you. And yeah, deep down you know that’s why you’re doing this. It’s because Whatever His Name Is was so incredibly attractive and it hurt your heart to actually look at something so amazing. You sigh and let your head hit the back of the couch, not giving your phone a second glance until quite a while after it buzzes:

Jamie [11:13pm] Yeah I know who you mean! Marcus dated him for a bit. Min Yoongi. Am I right?

Me [12:01am] That’s him. Thanks. And you say he was with Marcus? What happened?

You text back with a slight frown, wishing you’d replied sooner. What if Jamie was already asleep? You can feel your hands shaking with anticipation, but luckily your phone signals a reply quite promptly:

Jamie [12:04am] I’m not sure. Marcus wouldn’t tell me. I can find out for your bro, I’ll call you next week!

You groan aloud at the prospect of having a genuine phone conversation with him. Sure, he’s been helpful, but he’s annoying and he was loud in college, and he’s probably still loud now. But at least you’ll get answers soon. Your breath seems to even out a little, and you find yourself laughing at yourself once again. What is it about this Yoongi that’s got you so hooked? You ponder that question as you pull on your sweatpants for bed. You think it over as you brush your teeth. You coin the possibilities as you get dressed the following day. The questions stays stuck in your head all week.

Then it’s suddenly Saturday night again, and you find yourself ordering a pizza at the same time as last week. You scoff at the thought that it could be because you’re hoping Yoongi will deliver it to you, and you’ll get the chance to talk to him. You know full well that it’s ridiculous, but it doesn’t matter does it? You’re wearing a totally non-offensive plain blue t-shirt this week, but you still find yourself nervous. Why won’t your hands stop shaking? Why is your breath uneven? You just like his face. It’s not like you share the same necklace or anything.

His motorcycle pulls up over the road again, and you wait as calmly as you can in your living room, sat on your hands as you wait for the door to knock. You smile when you hear that it’s the same as last week - two quick taps, a pause, then another. This time, you stand up slowly, smoothing your clothes down as you focus on making your way to the door calmly this time. Your hands are still shaking, but at least your breathing is mostly even. You open the door slowly, giving Yoongi your sweetest smile,

“I have your pizza,” He says, a little deeper and less nervous than last week. It’s kind of sweet, really. His cheeks aren’t as flushed, but he still looks slightly dishevelled and yet still as soft as he originally did when you saw him last week. You thank him graciously and take the pizza from his slightly shaking hands - probably numb from the cold - with ease. You’re more than pleased to see that yours aren’t shaking, so you can reach for your wallet without worrying about dropping the pizza,

“Look, I’m sorry about last week, Yoongi - it is Yoongi, right? Min Yoongi?” You ask, slightly panic stricken when Yoongi’s head snaps up, looking at you incredulously. For a moment, you think you could’ve got in wrong, but then he nods and your face melts into a smile again. You hardly even notice the way Yoongi leans forward a little, his pupils dilating slightly, “Yeah, I’m sorry. I was a bit forward, and I didn’t mean to upset you. I was wondering if I could maybe take your number, and see if we could take things at a better pace?” You continue hopefully. But at the mention of his number, Yoongi leaps back like he was shocked,

“I’m not gay. Stop trying to get on me. I don’t even know you,” Yoongi tells you, slinging the bag for pizzas over his back as his cheeks burn red with embarrassment. You can’t help but smile at the sight before you, suddenly unable to fathom why you’d question the reason he was on your mind all week. It’s because he’s beautiful! But the words coming out of his mouth cause you to frown slightly, and you tilt your head as you probe his confession further,

“We went to college together. And I could swear you dated Marcu-” You start, but Yoongi’s face snaps into an awful expression of fiery defensiveness,

“You must have the wrong Min Yoongi. I don’t like guys. Now just give me the money for the pizza,” Yoongi rushes, and you find yourself reeling from the speed of his words. Shocked, you just go into your wallet and get out another £50 note, knowing he’ll probably appreciate the tip. ‘Maybe it wasn’t the shirt he had a problem with’ you think to yourself as he storms away. You sigh as you watch him tear away on his motorcycle, much faster than you believe is strictly necessary. He didn’t even strap his helmet back on properly.

The pizza tastes like cardboard in your mouth as you chew it, and you just don’t understand why you could possibly be so hung up on Yoongi. He can’t really be that special. You’re only on your third slice of pizza when your phone goes off, and you nearly choke on it in your haste. Despite your new resolution to not care about Yoongi, you’ve been anticipating Jamie’s call all week, and there’s no way in hell that you’re missing it - even if Yoongi truly is as rude as he seems,

“Hey! Hey, Jamie, you okay?” You stutter quickly. You’re worried that you’ll come across as too eager and Jamie will get the wrong idea, or think you want to actually talk to him. You shiver at the thought of politely sitting through a catch up with him. Especially if you’re sober. Maybe if you had several shots of vodka first, you’d manage it. But sober? Oh no, you barely even managed it in college when you genuinely wanted a social life. But not now. His voice is enough to make you regret even asking,

“Hey bro! Yeah, I’m just finishing my pre-game for a frat party, so I’m out of it. Just thought I should call before I forget! You good?” Jamie slurs into his end of the call, and you actually physically shiver at the sound of it. You’re in your twenties, and he’s still going to frat parties? You could swear people your age are meant to go clubbing, and not to frat houses. You’re sure there must be something horribly illegal in that confession. You swallow and close your eyes, trying to keep the growing irritation out of your voice,

“Yeah I’m okay, thanks. Just wondering about this whole thing with Marcus and Yoongi. He seems really weirded out about it,” You press, knowing the irritation would have been obvious to someone less drunk and more intelligent. Luckily, Jamie is absolutely pissed and as dense as a brick, so you’re fine. You never were great at hiding emotions, so you’re not sure why you thought this instance would be any different. But yes, luck seems to be on your side briefly, because Jamie definitely didn’t pick up on it,

“Marcus was weird about it too. He says they were together for a while, but then Yoongi got beaten up badly and stopped talking to him. Sounds harsh, doesn’t it? To just ghost your boyfriend,” Jamie voice sounds a little more sober, and you’re thankful. It meant you didn’t miss a word. You can practically feel the cogs whirring away in your head, so you know what you really need is some time alone to think it all over. You end the call as quickly as possible, wishing Jamie the best of times at his frat parties, and not waiting for his reply before turning your phone off. He probably won’t remember the conversation in the morning anyway.

You sit with your pizza as you think. Yoongi was beaten up badly and then just stopped talking to his boyfriend? It seems odd, but the two events are clearly linked, if one led to the other. At first, you assume that the beating led to the break up, but it doesn’t quite make sense. Why would getting hit lead to dumping your boyfriend? But then you think - what if the boyfriend lead to the beating, which led to the break up? That makes more sense. Yoongi got beaten up because he was with Marcus. You sit with that idea for a moment, and everything seems to make a bit more sense. Being gay got Yoongi hurt, so he has a problem with gay people now - or maybe just with his own desires? It seems entirely possible in your head that Yoongi is trying to act straight just because of that event.

Suddenly, you feel bad for hitting on him.

The following week, you find yourself sat in your basketball shorts and vest, wondering why you even bothered to order the pizza. You’ve made clear that you’re going to leave Yoongi alone. The pull you feel doesn’t really matter. You’ll get over it when you meet the person with your necklace, so it’s clear that it’s only temporary. However, your heart still jumps a little when the door knocks.

You know it’s definitely Yoongi, because you can feel that pull strengthening, and he really does seem to have a particular knock. Two quick taps, a pause, then another. You try to slow your footsteps as you approach the door, wanting to keep everything as calm and as innocent as possible. It’s not fair to push him when he’s probably suffering some pretty bad trauma from what happened back in college.

You resolve cracks a little when you see his pale skin, once again marred by a flustered blush. He really is stunning. You try not to smile in the way you had last week, but you still want to try and look friendly. You settle for a slight smile, that you’re sure he’ll be able to tell is forced. He seems like the intelligent type. If he does notice, though, he doesn’t say. He just hands you your pizza. You thank him with a nod of your head as you reach for your wallet, but stop short when you hear Yoongi splutter and cough,

“Are you okay?” You ask, before you can stop the words coming out of your mouth. You mentally scold yourself - you didn’t want to talk and have him get the wrong idea of why you’re asking. You meant for this to just be a normal pizza delivery, but he had to go and choke on air,

“Where did you get that?” Yoongi asks through the coughs, resting a hand on your doorframe to steady himself, and pointing the other at your necklace. You frown and look down at it, briefly examining the bronze plate, about 3cm in diameter, and the various colours set across it, like they’d been thrown from a paintbrush. You then look back up at Yoongi, who’s eyes bore into yours with an emotion that looks almost like rage swirling in it,

“It’s my necklace. You know, the Necklace everyone gets on their 15th birthday?” You stutter, feeling your calmness slowly seep out of your body at Yoongi’s expression. It only darkens further at your response, and you back up a little, slightly scared,

“Impossible,” He mutters, and you frown quickly, trying to decipher what he means. But your mind only runs in circles as you try to figure it out, trying to come up with anything appropriate to shoot back. You come up short in terms of anything even remotely intelligent or snarky, instead having to settle for a simple syllable,

“Why?” You ask. But, of course, ever the enigma, Yoongi doesn’t answer. He just turns around and sprints down to his motorcycle. You can’t do anything but stare at the open door, watching him fix his helmet on properly. It’s only then that you realise you didn’t pay him,

“Hey! Yoongi! You forgot the money!” You shout, stepping out of your house to wave your wallet at him, hoping he’ll pull over and at least let you pay for your pizza and maybe even talk to you. Then the sound of his motorcycle starts up, and your hand falls to your side as you sigh in exasperation. If he wouldn’t stop for money, nothing’ll do it. All you can do is watch as he tears off down the street at top speed, more than definitely outside of the speed limit.

You’re sure that’s it, and you’ll never see him again. You don’t bother to order pizza from that place again, knowing similar things will keep happening. You think that if you don’t put yourself in his path, he’ll vanish from your mind. But that is exactly where you’re wrong. It’s late on Friday night, four weeks after when your door knocks. Two quick taps. A pause. Then another.

Your head’s spinning as you stumble to the door, and you feel kinda fuzzy. Yeah, fuzzy is probably the best way to describe it. You know it’s not very eloquent but that’s the only word you have for the stuff going on inside of you right now. You fumble clumsily to unlock the door and wrench it open just a little too fast for it to be normal, and your breath catches in your throat at the very sight of the flustered blush dusted across the pale cheeks of one Min Yoongi.

The said man doesn’t give you a chance to speak before he’s shoving past you (with quite an intimidating aura for someone half your size) and into your home, not hearing you shout after him asking what the hell he’s doing. He can’t run away from you last month and now barge into your home! You don’t even know the guy,

“Where did you get that necklace?” Yoongi finally barks after a few moments of shocked silence pass when he flat-out ignores your demands to know why he’s here. The thing is that you probably would’ve let him in if he’d asked. Baffled by his tone, you stutter out a response,

“Like I told you last time, it’s the one I was given for my 15th birthday. Now could you please just tell me what-“ You start, hoping Yoongi will be more open to reasonable questioning now that he’s started talking in general. However, your hopes are squashed when Yoongi’s eyes snap up to yours, dark and dangerous as he strides towards you, height difference be damned, and stands just inches away from you, glaring unashamedly with murder in his eyes,

“Don’t bullshit me, that isn’t possible! Just tell me where you got the damn thing,” Yoongi growls, and you flinch back as you stare down at him incredulously,

“Look, you need to stop. I’m sorry that my answer upset you but seriously, I won’t have you force your way into my home and then start making demands,” You tell him firmly, trying to keep your voice calm. You didn’t even know you had this much patience in you, but you have enough to hold you still until Yoongi’s shoulders finally sag, and he looks around with a slightly lost expression on his face, like all the fight was drained out of him,

“I’m sorry it’s just.. I don’t know, there’s obviously no excuse for this but… fuck, I’m such an idiot. I shouldn’t have come, I’ll just go,” He amends, unable to meet your gaze as he heads for the door again, shaking his head at himself. You’re fine to watch him leave, absolutely speechless, but as if some reflex in your body is controlling your movements, you step in front of him. You had no more choice over it than you do jerking away from boiling water,

“Do you want to talk about it?” You blurt, not thinking it through at all. This could be a seriously bad idea and you know it, but for some reason you just don’t care. You could quite literally get killed since you don’t really know anything about Yoongi other than he’s clearly a very angry man who you used to go to college with. He might be a serial killer for all you know, but here you are offering to talk to him about issues that don’t even affect you!

But then you look at the hurt look in his eyes and the way his shoulders curl in slightly and realise that you could never turn this man away. For all the anger and spite buried in him that he just took out on you, he’s soft and small and obviously hurting. You remember when that was you. How could you turn a blind eye to it?

“No strings or catches, I swear. I’ll just put the kettle on and we can talk as two normal people about why one of them suddenly burst into the other one’s home and started shouting,” You say, some of your teasing personality leaking into your tone when you see Yoongi’s sheepish half-smile. You can tell that he’s embarrassed, and it tugs on your heartstrings a little. He nods without saying another word, not wanting his harsh voice to ruin the kindness you’re offering him. He knows he doesn’t deserve it, but he takes it anyway. After a few seconds of standing with an awkward silence hanging around, you remember you offered to make a hot drink. You jump into action and lope into the kitchen, calling over your shoulder to ask Yoongi what his fix is,

“Do you have any coffee?” Yoongi asks, trying his best to keep his voice calm and as velvety as yours was. He’s not sure if it works or not, “I’m not much of a tea drinker,” He admits, and you smile knowingly to yourself at the dark circles under his eyes that provide evidence for his preference,

“I have some, but honestly I don’t drink it myself. It’s mainly for hosting purposes, really,” You joke, getting down the seldom-used instant coffee powder from the back of the cupboard and finding your hot chocolate mix too. Yoongi snorts at the sight of it when you set it down next to the kettle,

“How did I just know you’d be a hot chocolate kind of guy? I bet you have whipped cream, chocolate shavings and marshmallows too,” He jokes in an unusually casual tone for him, and you quickly shove the marshmallows back into the cupboard, hoping desperately that Yoongi didn’t see. He did, but just rolls his eyes in lieu of teasing you further. He leans back against the counter opposite from where you’re making the drinks, trying to act as if he doesn’t feel quite so out of place while you busy yourself, wondering what the hell you’re even doing at this point.

You hand Yoongi his coffee first, and he smiles at you in thanks. It’s not necessarily a kind or warm smile, but it’s got a tinge of appreciation in it and that’s more than he’s been able to give you before. He swallows hard when he sees that you’ve put some milk in it. Most people assume he likes it black, but he’s partial to a little milk. The thing is, Yoongi knows that is such a stupid thing to be happy about! He’s really getting just a bit excited that you can read his mind better than other people and that doesn’t even make sense. But to Yoongi, it means something. He just doesn’t know exactly what.

He takes a moment to survey you as he sips his too-hot drink, the heat burning his lips but he finds himself unable to care as he thinks things over. So, you have the same necklace. That much is clear since Yoongi would know that design anywhere. The only problem is that Yoongi had been hoping he’d find it attached to a pretty woman who he could get along with without these feelings that he’s disgusting, or wrong…

Yoongi shivers at the thought that this is the life he’s resigned to. The kind of life he can’t have, the kind of life that he doesn’t want. He can’t bear to think of his parents right now.

You turn around with you hands wrapped around your hot chocolate, and lean opposite Yoongi. You try not to internally coo over how small he looks, and the red flush on his face from the steamy drink he’s holding. You fail,

“So, first things first. Why are you here?” You ask gently as you would when around a baby deer that you’re afraid to scare off. Yoongi scowls at your words and you barely stifle a groan, wondering if you will ever get the answers you want. You distract yourself petulantly with your hot chocolate while Yoongi deliberates his answer. The confusion on his face makes you wonder for a second if he genuinely doesn’t know. He’s clearly acting irrationally and is in no way comfortable here. You have to acknowledge the possibility that Yoongi may have turned up solely on curiosity, anger, confusion or whatever cocktail of emotions that were governing him.

Eventually, he kind of just sighs and puts his coffee down beside him, and promises himself that he will kick your ass - size difference or not - if you try and make any kind of advance on him for this. You watch on in confusion as his pale hands disappear down the collar of his hoodie, finding the chain of the necklace and dragging the pendant up into view, eyes looking anywhere but yours as you zero in on it.

You choke on your drink and quickly whirl around to place your hands on the counter, trying to keep yourself standing. Your fingers fumble clumsily to place your mug down and you try in vain to stop yourself from coughing up a lung. Your mind clouds over, though, and you find yourself unable to focus on breathing properly when you know that Yoongi has your necklace on.

Yoongi sighs to himself and rests his head back on the cupboard, and he tries to figure out what kind of silver lining could be found in this kind of situation, realistically speaking. Of course, he comes up completely blank, which really sucks and makes everything just seem that much worse. Luckily, before Yoongi can think up too much existential dread, the sound of heavy breathing stops, and Yoongi forces himself to look at your back as you flex your shoulders carefully before turning around to meet his hardened eyes.

You can’t help but think that this whole situation is reminiscent of some bad movie, and you kind of hate it. But then again, this cute guy is in your kitchen, and whether or not he’s going to fall in love with you doesn’t even matter because either way you’re going to be okay with it. Some people have platonic soulmates, and maybe that’s all that this is meant to be. You think you’ll be okay with that as long as you’ll get to cuddle him every now and again, because he’s such a squishy boy and you can just tell he’s secretly the cuddliest person in the world. But obviously you’re not going to outright say that to him. Maybe with time you’ll get comfortable enough with each other to do that,

“So, we’re soulmates,” You say, not smirking or joking or trying to imply anything. You keep your tone as neutral as possible because Yoongi obviously has his issues with this (if his reactions are anything to go by) and you don’t want to make this any harder for him that it already is. In response to your calmness, Yoongi mirrors it. He nods robotically and reaches for his coffee again. It doesn’t burn his lips as he sips it this time,

“I guess so,” He sighs, “But don’t expect anything from me. I’m serious when I say that I’m not-“

“You’re not gay, I know,” You interrupt, eager to get your point across before Yoongi has too much of a chance to form any lasting judgments about your character, “It’s okay, I’m not going to make you suck my dick or anything,” You scoff, allowing some humour to creep into your tone. You smile just a little bit at the flush that makes it’s way onto Yoongi’s already-red cheeks,

“Yeah, thanks for that,” He replies drily, “At least you make a good cup of coffee. But yeah, I guess we should talk about this. You came onto me like a moth to a flame, so you clearly are gay. What do you want from me and this whole soulmate thing?” You can hear the caution in Yoongi’s tone. He’s talking so bluntly, like this is some business transaction. Maybe that’s his way of dealing with it, but it doesn’t sit right with you. There’s some deep emotional connection that’s supposed to bloom between the two of you and it seems that Yoongi isn’t quite playing ball yet,

“Well, I’m kind of bummed that I got all necklaced up with someone I can’t fall in love with, but it doesn’t matter all that much. I guess I was only built for the strictly platonic kind of love,” You admit with a shrug of your shoulders, trying not to show how badly this is actually hurting you. You can curl up and cry about that loss later, but for now your soulmate needs to believe that you’re already okay with it, not that you’ll grow to be. Yeah, you were really hoping for the twink version of Prince Charming to come along ready for you to whisk him away, but that’s just not in the cards for you. You’ll have to resign yourself to a life of one night stands and a painfully straight best friend,

“Platonic?” Yoongi repeats, a confused look slowly etching itself onto his face. He thought it would be much more difficult to sort this whole thing out than you just dismissing your past advances like that. Maybe being your ‘soulmate’ won’t be as difficult as Yoongi assumed it would be,

“I know I can’t make you be gay, Yoongi. That’s not how sexuality works. If you say that you’re not, then you’re not. Sure, my best friend is gonna be pissed that I’ll end up demoting him at some point, but he’ll get over it,” You elaborate, and that finally makes Yoongi crack a smile - a real one! It’s cute and gummy and it makes you sigh so hard internally that you realise you’ll be pining for life. Maybe it would be worth it to see that smile one more time, though,

“I though that would be a lot harder. I thought I was going to have to fight you off and just go without a soulmate for the rest of my life,” Yoongi admits, setting his now-empty mug down beside him. You snort unattractively and roll your eyes,

“Don’t think so little of me, Yoongi. I have been known to abide by the rules of consent form time to time,” You drawl sarcastically, and you fix Yoongi with a look that makes him smile yet again, setting those butterflies off again. You try your best to digest them and Yoongi looks at you for just a few moments too long. An awkward kind of silence is left between you as his mind wanders off and he realises that he won’t ever be paired up with a nice woman to start a family with - well, not a woman that could really make him happy, anyway. Not that anyone would pair up with him at all with these stupid necklaces. That hope is gone now,

“Okay, well,” Yoongi interrupts himself, promising silently to that side of him that he can start this existential crisis later on, “I need to go. Thanks for the coffee, it was good. I’ll leave you with my number so we can go out and get to know each other or whatever. Barging my way into your home won’t work every time,” He jokes slightly, but his tone is too matter-of-fact to achieve the effect he was going for. Yoongi’s too caught up in going through the motions to even notice, moving his mug to the sink and writing his number down on the notepad and pen your hands miraculously find as you watch him, absolutely bewildered.

Did he just switch off his emotions? You could have sworn that you saw something brewing behind the hard front he so stubbornly upholds, but then suddenly it was like a door was slammed shut and locked up whatever that was behind it. You barely keep your frown hidden as Yoongi says goodbye, not lingering at all as he leaves the paper on the side for you. It’s not until Yoongi has climbed onto his motorcycle and kicked it to life, his visor snapped down tight, that you allow the frown to finally settle on your face.

There is most definitely more to Min Yoongi than he’d like for anyone else to think.

A few days later, the two of you are meeting up for a coffee - yeah, it’s just so original, but you didn’t want Yoongi to get the wrong idea if you’d invited him to dinner or something more fun. You can’t go out and do things without risking it seeming like a date until you’ve grown a bit closer. But still. Coffee. That’s what came out of your mouth.

Regardless of the setting though, you’re quite excited to get to know Yoongi. Especially with that mystery he’s given you to think on when you saw him last. Although, if you’re being honest, you’re trying not to think of him at all. The more you try to understand Yoongi, the less you actually do. Then you start asking questions to yourself like ‘why was he so angry about the necklaces?’, ‘was Marcus just a college experiment?’ and (the worst of all) ‘how are you supposed to act like you’re happy with a platonic relationship when you’re already harbouring a massive crush on the guy?’,

“Hey, over here!” Yoongi calls just a little bit more enthusiastic than he meant to. You’d wandered into the coffee shop slowly - you’ve never been one for coffee shops, really, so it’s a little disorientating - and Yoongi had saved you the embarrassment of standing awkwardly in the way while trying to find him.

Not that you could have possibly missed him, you realise when your eyes settle on him. If his mint green hair didn’t give it away, then his clothes would,

“Yoongi, you know it’s below freezing outside, right?” You ask sceptically as you sit down in the chair across from him. You’re silently glad he picked a table in the middle of the floor rather than one of the snug booths around the corner. You never know what’s going to happen when it’s with Yoongi, or so you’ve come to accept,

“I have a jacket,” He replies coolly, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. Of course Yoongi is the type of guy to do this! He’s wearing ripped jeans and a white t-shirt. Yes, it does look good the way he’s tucked it in, but that’s not the point. He’ll freeze, and you know it. As if he doesn’t notice your internal turmoil at how good he looks when you’d promised to control and stifle all of your favourable thoughts for the man, he shoots you a half smile as he nudges your drink towards you, “I got you some hot chocolate. They didn’t have marshmallows but they did have whipped cream and chocolate shavings,” He mutters, not quite meeting your eye as you smile down at your favourite drink,

“We should get past this tsundere act, you know,” You tease lightly, “Or are you going to demand payment for your efforts?” You continue and Yoongi raises an eyebrow at you, and you think you might have heard him scoff that he should do under his breath. Either way, he smiles up at you afterwards - not that gummy smile he gave you last time, but this one is good, too. It’s genuine, and that’s what matters,

“So… this actually isn’t the most awkward moment of my life, I have to admit,” Yoongi sighs dejectedly after a few moments pass of the two of you just glancing around, trying to think of something to say and yet coming up blank. You latch onto the morsel of conversation that Yoongi’s thrown at you with excitement,

“Well, now you’ve mentioned it, you have to tell me. What’s the most awkward moment of your life so far?” You probe and Yoongi gives you a look of complete horror at the prospect of having to relive it, and you can’t help the deep laugh that forces it’s way up and out of your chest. You haven’t seen his face so expressive before, and it’s adorably comical, to say the least!

“I have this older brother… before we both moved out we used to share a room. Now, there’s 7 years between us, okay? We weren’t that close, but because of the whole sharing a room thing we had to get along,” Yoongi starts, and you lean forward in interest, taking a sip of your hot chocolate as you go, “The age difference was a bit difficult though. He was still in school at 19 because he got held back a year, and obviously couldn’t move out when he was still a student. Basically he used to bring dates back to the house… yeah, exactly!” Yoongi shouts, gesturing to the shocked look on your face before he continues, “One night, I went to bed early because obviously school was too much stress for little 12 year old me. But then, I wake up at gone midnight and I hear some noise downstairs. Sometimes my brother came in drunk and messed around downstairs but…” Yoongi trails off, already holding back laughter, “Right, I’ll cut to the chase. He sent his girl upstairs to bed, while he tried to find his keys, but they were both so drunk that his girl ended up thinking I was him and trying to get into bed with me,” You splutter in shock but Yoongi keeps going, “And she’s laying there next to me saying how much she loves him, trying to kiss me, thinking that I am him! Now don’t tell me that’s not awkward, especially when your brother walks in and sees it!” He complains, and you shake your head in disapproval,

“Min Yoongi, I’ll admit that’s quite bad. However, I would argue that’s more traumatising than awkward. Buckle up while I tell you the most awkward story in the world - my life,” You explain dramatically, Yoongi over-acting that he’s hanging onto your every word as you launch into the top 3 worst things that have ever happened to you.

You pass at least a few hours just like that, just talking about your best and worst memories and laughing and trying to one-up each other. It’s easier to talk to Yoongi than you would’ve thought, and you find yourself opening up about what your dream job was, and how you’re not really happy about where you are in the world right now,

“Me neither, to be honest. I don’t want to be delivering pizza all of my life. It was only supposed to be a job to make ends meet while I pursued my passions, but here I am three years later doing the same thing,” Yoongi tells you, and you think you see just a spark of vulnerability in his eyes. You probe gently at the passions he mentioned, and Yoongi seems happy to talk about them. It strikes your heart with a pang that it’s probably been a while since anyone’s let him talk about them so freely, “I love music. I have some tracks of my own but it never really took off as a career. I have a Soundcloud following and that, but nothing ever really came of it. That and basketball. I nearly won a scholarship to some sports university, and if I’d taken it I’d be the Asian Michael Jordan,” Yoongi jokes ironically, and you smile sadly at that,

“Why didn’t you take it?” You ask, deciding not to make the comment about Yoongi not looking much like a basketball player, and surprisingly Yoongi doesn’t dodge this question either. He just shakes his head and takes a moment to have a sip of his third coffee of the day,

“My parents. They never really supported any of that. They turned it down for me and got me enrolled in what they called a ‘practical degree’. Engineering! I have a fucking Engineering degree and I hate it. The dumb thing is, I tried to find a job in that field and just make the most of it, but they weren’t hiring. How ridiculous is that? I should’ve done Media and pursued music more seriously, or taken that sports scholarship,” He sighs, and you can visibly witness his mood drop this time,

“Is it too late to change it now? I know you can’t go back in time and take your sports scholarship or study for a Media degree, but you’re not stuck being a pizza delivery man. If you wanted, you could quit your job tomorrow and start working your way up to what you want to do. You could start your own music label if you really wanted! But you’re not stuck. People like you don’t get stuck,” You tell him, the inspirational words flowing out of your mouth before you can even stop it. Silence descends between the two of you, and over the whole coffee shop since it’s getting late now and most people are going home. You think you’d overstepped the mark for a second before Yoongi finally replies,

“I’m not one for getting motivated, but you had me there. I’m not going to quit my job tomorrow, because I quite like being able to pay my rent, but doing something about my passions sounds like a good thing. Maybe… never mind,” Yoongi starts, but cuts himself off before he gets too far. You nearly whine in protest, knowing that if you let Yoongi start shutting out some things he’ll probably shut everything down. You push him to tell you, and with a sheepish smile he eventually does, “We should go to a basketball game. I haven’t gone to one in ages and if we’re going to be friends then you need to know some things about the best sport in the world,” Yoongi tells you, and you brighten up at the prospect of Yoongi suggesting something to do together,

“That sounds like a great idea! I’ll search it up when I get home, and see if any of the big games are happening near by,” You suggest, and Yoongi nearly glows as he smile, nodding and agreeing that it’s a great idea. Even if no big teams are playing, Yoongi mentions to you that even college games are pretty fast-paced, and could be worth a watch. You quietly wonder if you’ll maybe get him to go to a game at the college you used to go to, but you don’t say it out loud. Given what you learned all those weeks ago (no matter how hard you try not to think about it) you get the feeling that maybe college wasn’t the best time in Yoongi’s life,

“Hey, uh… you guys kinda need to leave. We’re closing soon and we need to wipe down your table,” A spotty-faced teenage boy tells you nervously, and you nod quickly. You know what some customers can be like, flying off the handle for nothing, so you know the last thing he needs is the last two customers giving him any shit. You smile encouragingly and apologise, downing the last of your drink as Yoongi does the same. You pretend not to notice the small tip Yoongi hands him for being so patient. Damn tsundere, he’d probably deny it and get mad at you for bringing it up.

Neither of you linger as you part ways, waving goodbye in a perfectly acceptable way as Yoongi mounts his motorcycle and you head off in your own direction. It’s not far, and you don’t really want to get on the back of Yoongi’s motorcycle, anyway. You still have that fluttery crush feeling, but it’s okay. This friendship is okay. It’s enough.

It occurs to you as you lock your front door behind you that if either you or Yoongi had ever pursued your dreams the way you wanted to, you may never have met. It’s funny how life works.

You do end up going to that basketball game. It’s been about 3 weeks since Yoongi brought it up, but you’re still just as excited as that moment. Yoongi seems hyped for it too - in his own way, of course - and you can’t stop talking as you get onto the train, trying to get all of the rules down before you get there. You were always more of a football kind of guy - well, you watch the World Cup when it’s on, if that counts.

It’s not too far to get there, but far enough that you can’t get a taxi and since you’ll probably drink a bit when you’re there, you can’t go on Yoongi’s motorcycle. Luckily enough, it doesn’t take long and then the college stadium is basically on top of the train station.

At periods throughout the game you wonder if you’re annoying Yoongi a bit, because you do have to ask for clarification every now and again. He hadn’t exaggerated when he said it was a fast game! But then you go to grab the both of you another drink and the happy look on Yoongi’s face as his eyes wander over the court astounds you. He looks so peaceful you almost feel bad for interrupting him to hand him the drink.

You also try to ignore how date-like it feels. This wouldn’t be the case if it was a group of you, but since Yoongi hasn’t mentioned any friends and none of yours would be interested in basketball (or able to keep their hands off Yoongi in the way that you’ve learned to) it’s a private kind of night. Well, not private. There’s a huge crowd and two teams of very tall men running around, but it just feels a little intimate. But you push the thought to the back of your mind with the help of more alcohol, and soon you don’t even care. This is your night with your soulmate, platonic or not.

It’s a fun night until you get on the train back home.

There’s barely any seats left when you and Yoongi jump on, laughing loudly and obnoxiously since you’ve only barely caught it, and then you have to trawl through the carriages. To try and find somewhere for the both of you to sit. Sometimes you forget how intimidating you might look, but the horrified looks of older women and younger teenagers reminds you to quiet down a bit. You smile apologetically and hurry to find somewhere before the train departs. You’re not drunk, but you’ve had enough to drink that your balance is ever so slightly off,

“Hey! I’ve got some seats here,” Yoongi suddenly says, pointing at a section of four seats that are all turned towards a table between them. You smile happily and collapse down next to the window before Yoongi gets the chance to, “You’re such a child, you know,” He scolds half-heartedly as he takes the seat closer to the aisle. The two of you buy a bottle of water each from the person with the snack trolley as she wanders down, knowing you should try and lessen any effects of the alcohol if you can.

Everything is still fine until a man sits himself down opposite you on the table, apologising since it’s literally the only seat left on the train. You and Yoongi wave it off good-naturedly and go back to your conversation about the game, happy to pass the time like that until you ruin everything with your loud mouth,

“I could swear I know you!” You blurt at the man who’d sat down opposite you, and narrow your eyes to examine him closer, “Have we met before?” You ask, and he finally looks up, realising you must mean him. The smile he gives you is slightly embarrassed, but still cute. You wonder to yourself if he’d take your number, or if he’s one of those traditionalists who won’t take anyone’s number unless it’s his soulmate,

“You know, you look kind of familiar, I won’t lie. Did we go to school together, maybe?” The man offers, and it’s not until you realise who you’re talking to that you feel that Yoongi’s tensed up beside you, not moving or talking. You’re not even sure if he’s breathing,

“You’re Marcus,” You breathe, involuntarily throwing Yoongi a side-ways glance. As your eyes move, Marcus’ do as well, and it’s as if the whole train carriage falls silent. All you can hear is your own heartbeat, and you can’t bring yourself to say anything else. Marcus doesn’t either, and Yoongi certainly doesn’t. The train ride stays deathly silent up until you pull into the station, forcing you to dwell on the situation.

This is Yoongi’s ex-boyfriend Marcus. The Marcus who he got beaten up for being with. The Marcus that must be part of the reason why Yoongi ‘isn’t gay anymore’.

Yoongi is up before the train stops, and hitting the ‘open doors’ button repeatedly until it lets him off. You hurry to catch up, hoping that Yoongi will let himself talk to you about it. You’re not that close yet, but you’re a little hopeful that this will be the prompt Yoongi needs to open up to you. You’re not supposed to hide your feelings from your soulmate, because they’ll always understand. It’s part of the reason that you get paired up.

You’re surprised to find that Yoongi heads back to yours, but then again you’re not. Yoongi is full of surprised, and also he left his motorcycle parked outside your house, so he needs to get it before he can get home. When you finally build up enough speed to walk next to Yoongi, you nervously glance at his face to try and work out what he’s feeling, but he doesn’t look angry. He looks shocked, sure, but not angry, and that’s a relief. He waists for you to unlock the door patiently, and smiles at you gratefully as you let him in. The train ride has clearly sobered the both of you up for now, and everything is quiet,

“You’re welcome to stay here tonight. I know you’ve had something to drink so I can’t let you ride home. My couch is quite comfortable. You can use the spare toothbrush in the bathroom cabinet and I’ll grab you some blankets and stuff,” You tell him as you shut the door and kick off your shoes. Yoongi throws a thanks over his shoulder as he heads to your bathroom, leaving you to try and compose yourself as you track down your less crappy blankets to lay out for Yoongi.

While said man takes his sweet time getting ready to sleep, you find yourself cracking open a beer and downing it before Yoongi is padding back into the living room, hair damp from the shower he clearly took. You smile at the darker colour the water’s made his hair and gesture vaguely at the set up of the couch you’d arranged. Yoongi smiles back at you as he leans back into the make-shift bed with a groan, and suddenly you’re talking,

“What happened between you and Marcus?” You say, not able to see what way this is going through the haze in your mind. Yoongi sighs as he rests his forearms over his face, not looking at anything as he tells you that it was just a stupid teenage experiment, like ticking all the boxes just to be sure he was definitely straight, and he broke it off when he realised he was, “That’s a lie. I know you were beaten up for being gay,” You tell him nonchalantly, spurred on by the warmth of alcohol in your veins. You always were a bit of a lightweight, “Is that why you won’t let yourself fall in love with me? Is it because- is it because being beaten up made you internalise their homophobia? Do you hate yourself for liking men?”

You’re too busy with your own muddled thoughts to remember that this was the subject you’d always promised yourself you wouldn’t breach. It’s Yoongi’s own business and his own trauma that he was welcome to share with you over time, but not something you would ever have the right to ask him about, let alone so bluntly.

The house is quiet before Yoongi snaps, eyes hard and burning with anger as he pulls his jacket on and finally snaps,

“You have no right to talk about that you pathetic fuck!” He yells at you, voice already sounding rough from use. You flinch back in fright, but Yoongi doesn’t stop. He doesn’t step towards you, but he maintains eye contact terrifying enough that you know he’s beyond angry, “If you think for one second that we are close enough, or ever will be close enough for that then you’re as stupid as you look! I fucking knew you were pining for me, and this just shows it! You’re a manipulative little prick, trying to twist my emotions and fuck with my head so I’ll go gay but you’re wrong! You can fuck yourself and live without any fucking soulmate. Fuck you,” He finishes, and your ears ring with his words as he grabs his helmet and storms out. Whether or not he had a few drinks tonight, he can’t stand another moment in your house.

The silence he leaves is worse now he’d just been filling it so brutally, and that pulling you felt in your chest when you were around him feels like it’s just snapped. If it’s the red strings of fate, then yours was just cut off by Yoongi himself.

You try to tell yourself that you’re not someone who lets people get to you so easily, because you’re really not. You’ve always been thick-skinned, and you don’t cave in and give up so easily, but this is just so different. It’s not melodramatic to be upset when your soulmate leaves you. Not that you were even together, but you were happy with the friendship that was blooming. For about 3 weeks there, your life was good. Yoongi made you smile and with some more time you know you’d be a better person since meeting him. You have a feeling that you were having the same effect on him, but that’s gone now. You went somewhere that you never should have gone, and you’re now suffering the consequences.

Part of you wants to think about how Yoongi is, and wonder if he’s feeling the same pain that you do every time your eye sees the mint green colour that reminds you of him, or the sound of motorcycle that isn’t his speeding past, or hear about a new basketball game. Even music is different now, knowing how deep his passion for it ran. But that part of you needs to stay silent. You don’t want to think that Yoongi is probably fine. He was never as gone for you as you were for him. Still are, really. Even now you want to see him again, even just as friends, to ask him about his day and listen to him vent about how much he hates his job and how badly it sucks. You know you shouldn’t still be wanting that, but you can’t help it. Maybe you are as pathetic as Yoongi said.

Your mental health spirals over the next few days, and you struggle to get out of your bed for your job. The looming threat of being evicted if you don’t make rent is just enough for now, but the longer you go knowing you’ll have to live without a soulmate, the harder it gets. You read stories about people who’s soulmates die before their time, or who leave them because of their history, but you never imagined it would hurt this bad. You go through your day like a zombie, only doing what you have to and nothing more.

Tears are already swimming in your eyes when you open your front door that night. It was another tough day. Your boss shouted at you for not having your ‘customer face’ on when dealing with people. You’d not been able to do anything but take it. He wasn’t wrong. You can’t manage anything but a monotone voice and a smile is beyond you. You hadn’t even been able to explain that your soulmate had cut ties with you, and that’s why you’re finding it so difficult at the moment.

You were so caught up in your own emotions that you didn’t notice the motorcycle parked outside, the fact that your door was unlocked, the living room light was on and there’s a man sat on your couch, looking at you with worried eyes. You don’t realise it until he calls out your name.

If you could control your reaction, you might not shout so loudly, but for the first time since Yoongi slammed your door behind him, you feel something other than numbness and pain. Anger. The red-hot blazes of anger burn your veins as you stare at him, and you start letting it out,

“Get out! Get the fuck out of my house, you heartless prick! You think you can lose your temper with me and call me all those names and then just waltz in here like I owe you something? No! How did you even get in here? You’re a fucking serial killer, I knew it! You need to leave right now or I swear to fuck I will call the police and have them arrest your dumb ass for breaking and entering! Who do you even think you are? You can’t just- you can’t just-“ You choke on your words as you continue, and you have to collapse down onto the chair opposite, panting and trying to catch your breath. You refuse to let yourself cry in front of Yoongi, and that resolve makes breathing just that much more difficult.

It’s not until you regain a hold on your temper that you realise Yoongi hasn’t moved. He’s sat on your couch, curled in on himself a little because you’re quite scary when you’re angry, but otherwise unmoved. You notice as you examine his face that he doesn’t look much better off than you. His eyes are rimmed with red, they look hollow and he’s shaking, too. Part of you purrs at the though that he was hurting too, but the other part of you is appalled that this whole soulmate set-up became so messy. The whole point of necklaces is to avoid all of this heartbreak,

“You leave your key under the doormat. You must think you’re so slick and sneaky with that, but you’re not. It was the first place I checked,” Yoongi says, obviously trying to joke with you but his tone ruins it. He sounds as empty as you feel, “I knew you wouldn’t let me in, and even though I understand why, I couldn’t take the chance. We need to talk,” Yoongi continues, giving up on joking in favour of just telling you how it is. An awkward silence hangs in the air for a few moments before Yoongi is talking again, “Look, I’m an idiot. I said some awful things to you and I just hate myself for it. Not that you didn’t already know that,” The sigh he lets out sounds pained, and you find yourself shaking your head,

“Yeah, you’re a dick for saying that to me, but I crossed the line as well. When I first saw you I thought I recognised you, so I talked to some old college friends,” You use the term loosely, “They told me what happened, but I wasn’t going to mention it to you. It can’t have been…” You pause to try and rephrase, not wanting to make this situation any worse, “It wasn’t any of my business. I’d had a few drinks, I don’t even know what I was thinking,” Your voice trails off quietly, and you’re unsure if Yoongi even heard.

It’s a little unsettling how weird this feels. The time you’d spent with Yoongi as of late has felt so natural, but this feels forced and empty. If you had a heart left to break any further, this would certainly do the trick. The only sounds in the room is you shifting into the chair further, and the shallow sound of Yoongi’s breath.

He gathers his thoughts as best he can, hoping you’ll know not to interrupt him when he starts talking. If he stops, he’s not sure he’ll be able to continue.

He hasn’t moved much the last few days, and his job has been angrily blowing up his phone the whole time. If he doesn’t go back tomorrow then he won’t have a job to go back to at all. The time Yoongi’s had has been full of thoughts and feelings and honestly it was quite scary. He’d forbidden himself to ever touch those feelings again, and he still hasn’t in any depth, but he’s getting the urge to try and explain them. That’s part of the reason that he’s here. Other than the fact that he’s been in pain being so separate from his soulmate, he wants to talk about it. He wants to tell you what happened,

“It wasn’t… just an experiment. Me and Marcus,” Yoongi says as firmly as he can. You jolt a little and look up at him in shock. You’re not quite sure what you were expecting Yoongi to say but it definitely wasn’t that, “I liked him, and he liked me. We knew we’d break up at some point because our necklaces were different, but it just felt right at the time. It was just a bit of fun, so neither one of us were expecting it to last long,” You don’t say anything or move in fear of interrupting Yoongi, “I was on my back from his house one night, and I saw some of his friends waiting outside. I nodded at them but didn’t stop to talk. We weren’t that close. It wasn’t even that far between Marcus’ dorm and mine, so I’d told him to stay there, that I could walk myself home. So yeah, I was on my own. There was a shortcut that cut the walk in half, but it was a dark alley. Narrow. It wasn’t until I got too far in to turn around that I realised his friends were following me,” Yoongi breaks off with a deep breath, running. Shaking hand through his hair. The colour is starting to fade now, “You know what happened next. They beat the shit out of me. I hadn’t been playing basketball for a while so I wasn’t that strong, and there were too many of them, anyway. I just had to take it, while they were shouting all these slurs at me, telling me to leave Marcus alone… they made it clear they didn’t want their friend around a fag like me, as they put it,” His shoulders sag as he falls silent, and you know that his story’s over.

His words hang in the air and all you can do is sit three, tucking your knees into your body as you wonder how fucked up those guys had to be. Then you wonder how badly it fucked Yoongi up. Clearly this is the reason why he refuses to be more than friends with you, but you can’t even fathom it. Sure, you’ve had more than your fair share of homophobia directed at you, but this is too much,

“When I think about being in love,” Yoongi presses on, and you feel the urge to tell him to stop if it’s going to put too much strain on him, but you can see that he needs to explain this to someone, “When I think about being in love like that, it messes with my head. I feel like I’m back there… I just don’t know if I can do it. Seeing you be so openly gay fucks with my head too. Part of me wishes I could do that and be that, but at the same time I’d hate it. I know it’s confusing, but this is what it’s like in my head. It’s sick,” He mutters bitterly, and you silently agree. It is sick. It’s sick that Yoongi should feel physically sick for something completely normal to him!

Part of you desperately wants to hold him close to you and run your fingers through his hair as if you can comb out all of his problems, but you know full well that you probably couldn’t do anything worse in this situation. He really has internalised those people’s homophobia and directed it at himself with such force that he can’t even enjoy his soulmate. He can’t enjoy the love written out for him because someone decided it wasn’t right.

There’s nothing to say, you realise, when you finally come out of your own head. No comforting words are going to soothe Yoongi, and all they’re likely to do is make him feel patronised or pitied. You know he doesn’t want your pity. So all you can do is sit there, not touching or speaking or moving, but just being in each other’s presence and hoping it will do something to fix the mess that this has become.

Eventually, you both fall asleep where you’re sat, and sleep dreamlessly for the first time since that basketball game.

You wake up the next morning to Yoongi sniffling in the kitchen behind you and the sound of the kettle boiling. He was trying to do it quietly so you would wake up with you favourite drink in front of you as a peace offering. He’s still not totally sure if you’ll forgive him for flying off the handle, yet. There wasn’t a conversation last night, just Yoongi doing a lot of talking and you doing a lot of listening.

There’s a funny sore spot on your neck from how you slept, and you’re still a little out of it. For a moment, you don’t really remember what happened, and the scenario just seems really domestic and happy. You stretch out with a smile on your face, until the memories trickle back into your head slowly. That’s when you taste the awkward atmosphere, and remember that this is most definitely neither domestic nor happy. After that realisation hits you, you feel Yoongi’s eyes graze over your back, seeing that you’re awake,

“Sorry, I hope you don’t mind. I… I made you some hot chocolate and I found the marshmallows… I feel really bad for the last few days and, I don’t know, I guess I was just hoping that we could talk even though I’d understand if you asked me to leave,” Yoongi says as he sets your drink down in front of you, cradling his own coffee between his hands, “First I shout at you and then I break into your house. I’m not much of a soulmate for you,” He says ironically, and you smile slightly when you realise that’s the first time Yoongi has referred to himself directly as your soulmate.

Yoongi doesn’t meet your eye as he talks, and you pick up the steaming drink to sip from it gently trying not to burn yourself but needing the warmth. This is so difficult. So much has happened, but Yoongi really did hurt you when he exploded like that. You don’t want to forgive him so easily, but he opened up about a huge point in his life and his deepest feelings. You don’t know what to do in the slightest, and eventually Yoongi lowers himself onto the couch awkwardly, hoping that you won’t be kicking him out just yet. If the last few days have taught him anything, it’s that if you don’t talk about this then you’ll lose each other. Yoongi tries not to dwell on the obviously romantic connotations of that ultimatum.

He struggles to find things to look at other than you, but manages to do it for a few minutes until you lean forward and set your hot chocolate down, thinking your thoughts might be nearly coherent enough to explain. You’ll try and satisfy both parts of your dilemma,

“Okay, you were an asshole the last time you were here. You know that, and you know me. If you think I’m letting you off the hook this easily then you’re having a laugh,” You say firmly, and Yoongi ducks his head a little, still unable to meet your eye, “But I also understand why you did it,” You continue softly, and Yoongi is shocked into looking up at you, “You have issues, Yoongi. I’d feel bad just kicking you out without a second thought in light of that. Can you understand my dilemma?” You ask, and Yoongi sighs to himself, rubbing his forehead as if trying to cure a headache,

“Yeah. I mean, this was always going to hurt, given my situation and your… being a guy. We wanted different things from this whole necklace shit but I don’t know if I can give you what you’re looking for,” He explains, and you weakly ask him what he wanted from it. Your voice sounds so much thinner than it normally does, but you can feel this like a punch in the gut. Yoongi doesn’t want you, not in the way you want him. You always knew that, but hearing it for certain just aches, “I wanted a nice woman to come and be matched up with me. I wanted to be able to forget what happened in college forever. I wanted to believe my lie - that it was just an experiment. I wanted to get married and have a family without the drama, and even if it wasn’t quite what I wanted deep down, it would be enough. Enough to… I don’t know, pretend that the part of me that wants something else is just a bad dream,” Yoongi explains and you cast your eyes downwards. His are filling with tears and you want him to have some privacy from your scrutiny, “I guess I’m not exactly what you wanted, either,” He spits bitterly, trying to laugh it off but failing,

“You kinda look like it, I’ll give you that,” You half-joke, not wanting Yoongi to know how transparent his act is, “I know you don’t want me to go into it, so we can just skip over this whole bit and be platon-“

“Tell me,” Yoongi interrupts, and you’re taken aback by that for a few seconds. You have to steady your heartbeat, but you oblige regardlessly,

“You’re cute,” You say, barely above a whisper, wanting Yoongi to be able to pretend he hadn’t heard you if he’s already changed his mind. But he doesn’t make any move to stop you, so you continue with caution, “You’ve got a sweet smile, and these kind eyes that you try to hide behind a frown. You act tough but you’re deeper than that and I’ve seen it. You always pack an extra water bottle when we go out and if you have any change on you then you always give it to the homeless. I always imagined that I’d be the Prince Charming for a sweet man like you. I always wanted to be stronger and taller and all of that shallow stuff, and when I look at you I can see that side of me clearer than ever. I want-“ You pause, cutting yourself off, “I’m not sure you want to hear this. I don’t think I can say it knowing it could hurt you,”

“Please, tell me,” He murmurs, eyes meeting yours with a new, indescribable kind of emotion in them, “I need to hear this. Regardless of how this affects me, we need to know about what the other wants,” You nod wordlessly and push on as if you hadn’t stopped,

“I want to protect you. I want to hold you close and tuck you under my chin when it’s cold. I want you to sleep on my chest and I want to shower you with the affections that you deserve but because I know you can’t give me that, I don’t expect it. I want to be crystal clear about that,” Your voice fills with conviction as you move to sit on the coffee table in front of Yoongi so that he has no choice but to look at you, “You don’t ever have to give me anything. I’ll never even ask for it. If you want a wingman, I’ll be the best wingman you could ever ask for. This necklace doesn’t mean shit and I swear to you that all it means to me is that I needs to make you happy. Even though that’s not with me, I’ll still do my best to give you what you do want and what you do need,” Fire burns in your eyes, and anything Yoongi was going to say fizzles out in his brain. His eyes widen solemnly and he nods dumbly, only able to get out one single word,

“Okay,”

It’s been several months since you and Yoongi had that huge… fight? You use that term very loosely, because it wasn’t so much a fight as a huge eruption and misunderstanding of emotion. Regardless of what word you use to describe it with, it’s over now and it has been for a long time. You’ve grown so much closer in the time since then and it’s genuinely so amazing. You’re no closer than best friends are - you meet at least twice a week, sometimes watching some films, and sometimes going out to do things. Yoongi was anxious about joining the local basketball team on his own as a hobby, so you’d gone with him the first time just to help him out. A few months down the line, and you’re their second best player! Yoongi, of course, takes the top spot. It’s ridiculous since you’re so much taller than him, but whatever! You have to remind yourself constantly that he’s good enough to have gotten offered a full scholarship, and you’ve been playing for a few months, but it doesn’t stop you getting frustrated when you play against him in small games and warm ups.

You’re the notorious pair, so competitive on the court and yet so close off the court.

Yoongi didn’t have many friends when you met him, but you had a small group who were happy to welcome him in. One remembered him from college, but everyone else accepted without question that you’ve found your platonic soulmate in Yoongi.

You’re both part of each other’s family, now. His parents didn’t have a problem with you after they got over the fact that their Yoongi wouldn’t give them any grandchildren, and your parents adore him. Of course, you made to clear up that Yoongi was most definitely not any kind of love interest for you, while tactfully avoiding why you wouldn’t even try. What happened to Yoongi remains privately between you, him and the therapist he’s been seeing.

He visits them once a week to try and get over his internalised homophobia and make him a more healthy person. You’d mentioned it to him in passing one night when you’d been having one of your deep chats. It happens every now and again, usually after one of you has had a bad day or if Yoongi feels particularly uncomfortable with himself. You’d figured he’d brush the idea off, but within a few weeks he’d found somewhere that said they could try and help him to start to deal with it. He hasn’t looked back since.

Yoongi is most definitely getting better. Anyone could see that! He’s happier, less anxious and is more positive in general. He still won’t tell you when a guy catches his eye, but you’ve seen his eyes wander a few times. Even though he snaps out of it quickly, it’s progress and that’s the important things. You wouldn’t care if Yoongi never told you when he finds someone attractive, if you’re totally honest. It’s about him being happy with every single part of himself. That’s what’s important here,

“If I ever get over this… you know what I mean… completely, will you want us to be together?” Yoongi asks you out of the blue one night. You’d met him from his therapy session to grab some dinner and catch up, and he’d been a little more thoughtful than is normal for him. He’s always a little drained after his sessions, but he has a little crease in his forehead where h’s been frowning, and that’s never happened before. This must be why,

“Yoongi, I don’t expect anything from you. Not one little thing. You don’t owe me anything,” You say, horrified that he thinks that’s what you want, “If you ever feel comfortable enough to want a guy , I won’t force myself onto you. I promise that I’m more than happy with you as we are right now. You’re my closest friend. I’m not just hanging around for you to put out,” You explain, looking away only to order from the counter. It gives Yoongi time to think that over, and when you turn back he’s got a gummy smile on his face,

“Sorry, I just worry sometimes,” He admits sheepishly, and you snort with stifled laughter. You slap the back of his head playfully and remind him that he shouldn’t apologise for worrying.

But that thought still sits in the back of Yoongi’s mind, whispering to him. He wonders if you’d want that kind of relationship if he ever gets better, and he wonders if maybe he’d want it to. He slots the idea away in his head to talk over with his therapist next week. She’ll be happy to know that Yoongi’s able to think about it at all, since it’s a huge step forward from where he started. Obviously it’s going to take more than half a year of therapy to fix years of suppression and damage, but he can already feel a change in him. He watches you laugh and flirt with the guy making your food, and Yoongi knows it’s a change for the better.

It’s been three years since Yoongi delivered your pizza to you, but neither of you noticed the ‘anniversary’ of sorts pass by. There are more important things going on in your lives than insignificant details like that.

Yoongi’s mental health is at it’s most secure that it’s been since you met, and he even admits when he sees a guy he likes the look of with minimal probing! Even though he won’t let you be his wingman just yet, you’re so excited for how well he’s doing. He’s satisfied as well, and he’s has explained that it feels like a weight is slowly being lifted from his shoulders.

He knows he still has a long way to go now, but he’s motivated. He wants to do it.

Yoongi’s on his way to yours straight from his appointment at the hairdressers, so he can take you to basketball practice. He’d gotten rid of the mint green look just before quitting his job at the pizza place, because he didn’t want his chances at a new job to be ruined by a ‘punk look’ as he put it (even though you’ve told him countless times that a squishy boy like him couldn’t look punk if he tried). He’s a music producer now! He’s not famous or anything, but he has him name on some big tracks, and his income is quite good. Far better than the pizza delivery job, and he’s happy doing it. He genuinely loves what he’s doing. It’s not just Yoongi who’s gotten better over the last few years. You’ve found a new passion in basketball, and you started taking night classes to qualify yourself for a better job. You flew through them and took the exams early, and quit your crappy dead-end job just last week. You start your dream job on Monday!

Yoongi knocks on your door is his cutely unique way - two quick knocks, a pause, and then another. You’re way too excited to see what new colour he’s gone with. He’s tried a whole rainbow - pink, red, orange, silver, blue, purple and probably a few you’ve forgotten. You’re surprised he still has a full head of hair. After he’d settled in at the music studio, he realised how much they didn’t care about appearance. He was the only one with a natural hair colour! They’d told him he didn’t have to stick with black if he didn’t want to, and he hasn’t looked back since,

”Hmm, blonde. An expected move, but okay. It suits you,” You admit as you grab your gym bag from the hooks by your door and sling it over one shoulder, “We good to go?” You prompt when Yoongi makes no move to step out of your doorway to let you out. If you knew the reason, you wouldn’t be so quick to speak up. There’s this feeling in Yoongi’s chest and it’s throwing him off. Something scary. Something meaningful. Something… fluttery. He rolls his eyes as he steps out of your way, muttering two words that you won’t think are of any importance for a few months yet, at the very least,

“Fucking butterflies.”

#bts #bts yoongi #bts suga #bts fluff #bts angst #the necklace #confused

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annieingo-blog · 4 years

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Goodbye, big brother

It's been awhile since we last saw each other. I wasn't able to give you a proper goodbye before your departure from this life.

You were sick. Very, very sick. I didn't take in account for how serious your health was a detriment to you. But, you were so amazing at juggling 20 things at once! You were invincible! Your day to day was waking up early at ungodly hours to do stocks.

Shortly after, you went to the place you loved being at: Your job. Your job was more than pushing buttons to make space dildos fly into the unknown. You wanted to revolutionized the world.

Then, after work, you would go home. But, before heading to "The Bakery", you went to McDonald’s on Western. LOL. You're favourite thing to order was TWO EGG MCMUFFIN SAUSAGES AND HASHBROWNS. How would I know that? Because that's typically all you ordered whenever I asked if you wanted anything from McDonald's (Sometimes you were feeling a little adventurous and ordered chicken nuggies.)

You go home, it's about 6PM or 7PM. You spend time at the gym with the boys or with your girlfie. It's 8 or 9. I'm sure you'd be stinky from all that nasty, so you shower. You're probably playing games or watching a video about SpaceX launching it's new space dildo. I always called it a space dildo and I'm sure you didn't like that, but thought it was hilarious because it is a space dildo. It's 10PM or 12AM. Rinse and repeat. Back to 3AM the next day.

You were a super hero to me. You lived a life that everyone would've wanted. It was a difficult life to live with great cost.

I remember the first time I met you at Arena. You're favourite place to get wild.

"Maybe he needs water?"

"Hi! I'm Annie! Are you okay? Would you like to drink water?"

You're answer has always been, "No. I'm good! Thank you!" with a smile on your face and continued to show off your power moves. Mating moves for the girls HAHAHHA. Slowly, our engagement from hanging out and doting you as the "Arena King" quickly shifted to "Big Brother" or "Anh Hai." Before knowing you as this super hero, you were just another guy at Arena. A hot mess, living his best life. I'm grateful to have you as my older brother.

Your house would be the pregame house. Fridays and Saturdays were for drinking and going out. To show you my courtesy, I always brought a bottle of Jameson over and brought food. I don't remember clearly of what was the catalyst of us hanging out outside of our night life, but I'm sure time was a factor. The more I came over, the more we started growing closer as two peas in a pod... With 4054398598435 because you were "Mr. Popular" or "Master Le." As it labels on your Netflix account LOL.

You're objective every time we hung out with the "Little" family was to enjoy the moment together every single Friday to Sundays. And if I got lucky, some time on the weekdays, we'd all have dinner together and watch shows.

We grew closer and closer and shared many things we've experienced in our lives before meeting each other. You shared stories of your sister. It was heart aching. No wonder why you're the way you are. You're dreams to change the world was awe inspiring. Every time you shared your dreams, you glowed with determination and enterprise.

I thought to myself for the first time that I'm so lucky to have met this person. He brought out the meaning and true definition of what a good friend everyone should be. He always provided a place to stay and food to eat. I never would've thought I'd be in a group with such amazing people that care for each other with sincerity.

I wasn't in a good friend group that provided me with the comfort of being your true self and accepted for it. As soon as I met you, I dropped my previous connections and stuck with you. You gave me a sense of what community feels like. I adored you for it.

It wasn't long until after when we first had a fight. A fight that prolonged the bitter indignation and detest for each other for months. Time apart meant, I never was able to come to you on the weekends to hang. I was never allowed to text you or call you about things I needed help with. I wasn't able to sit down in the same spot of the couch and watch TV and order Postmates or UberEats for us. I wasn't allowed to park on Wilton where the elementary school is and walk to the gates of "The Bakery". I wasn't able to hang out with you in the same group of friends in the same setting. The longer time had passed, the more I detached us because I was angry.

I was angry but still harboured so much love that it hurt me and made me miss you. I never went on a full day without thinking, "How is he doing now? Did he eat yet?" Sometimes, I would look at clock. Depending on what time it might be, I would think of how and what you're doing.

I'd see you at clubs here and there. Rather feeling angry and selfish, I would come up to you and exchange my hello in civil manner. It didn't feel right being there with you after not speaking to you for so long. I knew you were upset at me still and our engagement felt like we were strangers again. But without cordiality and good humour. I felt far but you were very close. I kept my distance to respect your notion and Juanne. My heart yearned to be friends again. I told myself, I'd wait for you whenever you're ready because I'll be ready.

Time has past and the last time we actually had a talk was probably two months ago. I saw you again at Arena. You were wearing the same blue button up that became your signature "LET'S GO OUT" outfit. Rather than having fun, you looked distraught. You wallflowered and spent time on your phone for awhile. I knew what troubled you, but didn't want to address the problem. I knew that I must be the person to let him know. "I want to be there for him." I came up to you and said

"Phil, we haven't hung out, but know I cherish you and our friendship. I'm here for you if you need it."

You almost cried and opened up to me about our fight. The fight about Juanne. You asked me when will the fighting stop. You expressed through tears and agony you missed our friendship and just wanted to be friends again. I felt guilty knowing that I didn't want to push myself in fixing this issue earlier. Without hesitation, I told you I wanted to apologise because I was never fond of you limiting yourself around me.

I wanted to be friends again too. I missed you like hell. I missed your quirky antics and "HELLO" every time I saw you. I wanted to be part of your life again even if it means putting my foot forward to apologise to you and Juanne for the mess I made. But, you stopped me from doing so and told me that I have no obligations. After that, through the frustration and stress that went on for about 45 minutes longer, I stopped. It ended with me saying, I love you and will always be here for you ready when you need it. I never went a day without thinking of you. You grinned and felt at ease. I felt at ease with the smile of comfort you gave knowing I can push another day, waiting.

I didn't realise that night at Arena was the only night I ever got to express my deepest concerns for you. A half assed apology in a setting that is hazy, full of drunk ass people, musky, nasty, loud music with the ambience being disingenuous. A half ass apology was all I got to do. And I'm sure I deserved it for putting you under the stress that shouldn't have started in the first place.

Shortly after, word got out to some about you being in the hospital. I was so angry. The same bitterness that I dropped, resurfaced. I was upset that no one wanted to bridge the gap between us. You were in the hospital? How could my friends not stickup for me knowing that I wanted to see you so bad. I couldn't even have the messenger shoot the message letting you know

"I'm here. You will get through this no matter what. I love you and believe you'll get through this."

I felt helpless, resentment, and frustration that surpassed the threshold of patience and understanding. I was only given updates by two on the status of your recovery. It wasn't enough. I wish I wasn't told so I could live a life with ignorance and having to think you're just mad at me don't want me in your life.

At the same time, I also hoped that the Sky Daddy wouldn't take you away so I can tell you that I love you and miss you and I am sorry. I waited without a day in hoping for the best of this travesty. Because you were my super hero and that can do anything, I was optimistic and certain that you'll be here running around LA painting it red wherever you go after you heal.

"I'm sure doctors at Cedars are great! They'll get my big brother out of the miserable place and have him and running again!" I thought everyday.

I waited awhile awaiting for good news. Fast forward to January 7, 2020. It was Tuesday at 8:57AM. I get a text about your passing.

"Hey Annie" "Phil passed" "Thought I should let you know"

"When did he pass" "Are you fucking for real" "You're not joking"

You passed away at 2:35AM. The same day I received the text. Once again, I was riding on the same rollercoaster of emotions. Ever go to Six Flags? My emotions were a clusterfuck of all of the rides into one. Yeah... That was it. Except, after riding 10 60ft tall slopes, the 11th was going down and it went down without stopping. My heart and body dropped to the floor. Maybe even deeper. I couldn't believe what I heard.

My big brother was gone. He left without hearing me say goodbye. I never got the chance to express how he meant to me. I want him back. "Fuck. Everyone." At this point of the day, I cried. And cried so more. And cried so much my extensions fell out. My eyelids and eyeballs began to swell and the snot from my nose dripped and soaked my shirt. I'm a mess, but are you fucking kidding me? My big brother left.

Untimed, unprepared, unexpected, and undeserving.

The future won't be the same and the chance of me seeing you again? Never.

Through this whirlwind of emotion, I blamed Juanne. But, at the same time, should I blame? You're gone and it would be such a disappointment if I still bear the same grudge. The constant push and pull between doing what is right for you and my selfishness was tearing me apart. The same day you passed, I knew I had to do the right thing. But, it was hard. I expressed a lot of my feelings towards my friends. But I only got the same shit, cliche advice and not be angry. Good intentions, but hear me out. I'm hurting and its fucking with me. Fuck you guys. I'll make it up when I'm done blaming. Selfishness. Again.

She messaged me later that night. Taken back, shocked, I had to prepare myself to read her message on Facebook. The message was full of hurt. And although I was mad, that immediately dropped and translated to hurt. I can only understand what she's feeling. She loved you as much as I did, if not more. She was your ride and die as you were mine.

Because I love you, I don't want you to pass on knowing that I haven't fixed things. We exchanged our feelings through Facebook. I was finally able to unveil how I felt about you to her with full transparency and honesty. I no longer felt abhor and was released out of my chains. Deep down, this would've been better if you were around.

I made a promise to you. What resonated in me about you was your act of selflessness without hesitation. You never asked for anything in return but respect, support, and love. I failed to provide you with that. You were such a good person to many and some undeserving.

You placed others above yours because the satisfaction of seeing others happy rewarded you. Your job, family, friends were a priority.

The responsibility of that is too much to bear for one person. I wish the others who only know you as a good time could see what I see in you. The super hero that everyone needed. If I could rewrite my 4th grade essay on what I wanted be when I grew up, it’ll be from Wonder Woman to Phil. He’s my new Wonder Woman. My promise is to be like you just without the money and the man parts.

I hope you can hear me when I say this. I always thought sorry was such a shitty word to express my regret failing to acknowledge my wrongs. I wish I communicated more. I wish I was patient and understood more. I can wish for these things, but it's meaningless without you. The future can't be the same knowing that you're not here and that's the reality of life. "Fucking. Sucks. Donkey balls." You really liked that expression. But life is unfair and choosing certain events, you need to understand repercussions. I'll never let myself live down the fact I didn't do what was suppose to be done earlier.

As much as I despise using, "sorry." I am sorry, Phil. I let things go on for too long without recognising the possibility that it'll be too late. I failed you as a friend; as a little sis. I loved you from a distance. I waited for the day where things simmered down so we can be with each other again.

Life is so funny. I always referred to it as a journey everyone rides on a train. Everyone rides in the same car, but sometimes people need to take different stops to get where they need to go and that is okay. However, you're a special case. I guess you decided to take an impromptu stop and had to take a rocket ship to explore the wonders of the unknown without letting us know. But, that’s okay too. You were an adventurous spirit ready to take on anything that comes at you.

I’ll never forget about you. I'll never forget those drunk ass night where I ordered $120 worth of tacos. How you sleep with your mouth open. I would always wake you up and comment on how you sleep. You'd wake up and smile confusingly. "What? What happened?" Sometimes, your phone calls and good morning texts. Our bird calls when we see each other and all the ‘HOIIII YEAHHHHHHHHS”. Oh, let’s not forget how we enable each other to go out..

“ARENA?”

“I’M DOWN!!! HAHAHHA”

You’ve done so much for everyone. Here I am, not recognising and giving you the appreciation you deserve. I was afraid to forget about you, but after writing all of this down, I never will. I wrote this letter because these are words I wish I said sooner. Come back, please. It’s not the same without you.

I love you. You're at ease. I miss you and it hurts like hell. I never got to say it to you. But, I hope you forgive me. I can’t ever be mad at you even when I am. Thank you for the laughs, and ugly cries we shared together. It’ll be awhile since we’ll see each other again so, save an AMF for us and some seats on your space dildo. One day, we can explore the beyond together with everyone.

Goodbye for now, my dear brother.

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lindoig4 · 5 years

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The Last Post for this time.

I have just posted lots of photos and a few videos through to the end of our adventure so this will probably be my last post to this blog.

On Friday the 13th (Black Friday), we took a streetcar to the ferry terminal and a ferry to Larkspur, a town across the Bay in Marin County. I love larkspurs (but we didn’t see any there) and I am not sure what other attractions are around the town of Larkspur, but that is where San Quentin prison is - a big forbidding fortress of a place. Pretty horrible really, not at all larkspur-ish, but so was Alcatraz in its day. A good place to avoid, I think!!

It was not much more than filling in a day, but we had a slow lunch in a pub out there and returned to San Fran 2 or 3 ferries later. When we got back to SF, we decided to take the Castro streetcar to the end of the line just for a look and then stay on it until it brought us back to our hotel. We had (good) vague memories of Castro in 1995 and thought a visit might be nice. Alas, our streetcar driver had completed her shift and was returning streetcar vehicle to the depot, so tipped everyone off a few stops early. We decided to just catch the next streetcar back to downtown which she assures us would be along shortly. ‘Shortly’ turned out to be just over 55 minutes with us and a few others standing around the bus-stop in the blazing sun - not at all the sort of thing we expected.

Saturday, we had booked to go on a 9am whale-watching tour and we were up early and out at the Pier 39 meeting place almost an hour early. We wandered around the precinct and watched the sea-lions and birds for a while until it was time for the tour. We saw a few harbour seals and glimpsed some small porpoises, but the anticipated dolphins eluded us. And as soon as we reached the Golden Gate Bridge, the fog rolled in and we were enveloped in it for the rest of the tour. Visibility ranged from about 50 to 150 metres and although those on the bridge reckoned they sighted one (or maybe 3) whales, they quickly got lost in the fog so none of the tourists saw anything. Having said that, I enjoyed it greatly, not for the whale-watching, but as a pelagic birding excursion and added nine more birds to our trip list. I suspect I was the happiest person on board by a mile!

Back at Pier 39, we had fish and chips and a cold drink for lunch, then sat and watched the world go by for an hour or so before catching the trolley back. We broke the journey halfway to visit the Friday market that sets up not far from the ferry terminal but it was generally disappointing - a lot of junk jewellery, some artwork and not a lot else. There was some sort of parade or military drive-through that delayed traffic and the streetcars for quite a while. Not quite sure what it was, but there were lots of military vehicles, historical and more modern, with lots of personnel waving to the crowd and a dozen police bikes having a great time hooning up and back in some sort of escort but whatever the occasion, it remained a mystery to us.

Needless to say, the parade delayed the streetcars so we had another wait of well over half an hour, thankfully in the shade, until we got our ride the rest of the way home.

We went out a bit later to get some food to-go and ate in the room again with a bottle of local fermented grape juice of the cab sav variety.

Then Sunday was our last day in San Francisco! We fly out tonight and it will be a long uncomfortable trip so we decided to go easy on ourselves.

We caught a trolley bus (by far the best form of urban mass transport) out to the beach, just for the ride. It took us out along McAllister, a long road with all those wonderfully quaint colourful Haight-Ashbury houses - just love them - and along the full length of the Golden Gate Park (North America’s largest urban park) to Ocean Beach.

We watched the crows and gulls for a while, then decided to walk up to Cliff House, a bit over a kilometre along the beach. We visited it back in 1995 and didn’t remember a lot about it other than that they had a big Camera Obscura set up just below Cliff House itself - and I do have vague memories of doing that tour then.

Cliff House has featured in a number of movies, usually as a desolate hideaway miles from anywhere, usually with a gale blowing, thunder and lightning, a storm raging and the baddies on the brink of some dastardly deed that will pour treasure at their feet - until the hero turns up, rescues the maiden and captures the evildoers just before their wicked plan succeeds. The truth is somewhat different with at least two upmarket bars and three restaurants. We had a wonderful lunch in the bistro. They even had a version of a Caesar so we both had one of them - each a meal in themselves and pretty healthy at that. We shared half a dozen deep-fried dumplings (gyozas by another name) and the most delicious baked meatballs I have ever enjoyed. The gyozas were also tastier and more substantial than those we have had before. We sat over the meal for an hour or so then strolled back to the trolley bus and thence back to our hotel. It was a really delightful day, warm and sunny, great for a visit to the beach, to enjoy a superb lunch and we loved every minute of it. As they say, somebody has to do it.......

We sat in the foyer of the hotel for an hour, writing and identifying a couple more birds and suddenly, the shuttle was there and we were on our way to the airport. We got through reasonably easily, although Heather lost a few utensils out of our picnic bag because we forgot to move it into our checked baggage before sending it on its way along the great conveyor belt that will hopefully deliver it to Melbourne tomorrow - whatever day that is (Monday here, Tuesday in Melbourne).

We stocked up on the makings for quite a number of homemade Caesars as we went through the Duty Free clip joint and sat in the lounge for an hour and a half until they called our flight. I intended doing a lot of stuff on my PC - but once again, the beast wouldn’t boot when I turned it on. Fortunately, I backed up most stuff a couple of days ago, but it would still be nice to wake it up and strip the hard drive before tying a brick to it and throwing it into the ocean.

One cute thing that happened as we sat there waiting for the very last episode of our Arctic Odyssey to conclude was that we both got emails starting the formal part of our next adventure to the Antarctic in February - what could be more appropriate?

The long flight home was predictably as dreadful as we imagined. I just don’t know how people endure such flights on a regular basis – I am in awe of them! But obviously, we made it through the very long night – we left SF (30 minutes late) in darkness and we arrived in Melbourne (an hour early) shortly before dawn. Our wonderful driver (Nick) who our more wonderful travel agent (Bev) provided as a freebie for us gathered up our bags and delivered us home in style, quick and comfortable after our overnight ordeal. The rest of the day was a bit of a blur, starting the elongated unpacking process, wading through the mountain of mail Nath had collected for us, making a few urgent appointments and planning the schedule for attending to the 30-odd tasks that had accumulated on our to-do list while we were away. After no sleep the night before, we were in bed before 10pm and asleep about 15 seconds later.

Some statistics…… Our trip took us to 6 countries (depending on how we count them) with 9 border crossings, including 13 US States (a quarter of all of them) and all Canadian Provinces except Prince Edward Island. In total, I calculate we travelled close about 80000km.

And perhaps more important (for me) was our bird count. I identified 148 discrete species, but some were seen in more than one country – so my country stats were as follows:

USA 55 Canada 64 Norway 30 Iceland 30 Greenland 20 Denmark 10 (Total 209)

We had previously seen some of these before, either in Australia or our other trips, but of the 148 species we saw this trip, were 78 species we had never seen anywhere before.

So what were the highlights of the trip? Very hard to say, but perhaps some narrative would help me to get a clearer picture in my own head.

It is hard to rank my experiences on this trip, but some of the highlights so far are as follows:

* In the US, the Zephyr train, specifically the romance of the buttes, mesas and arroyos of the Cowboy Country, mainly in Colorado, took me right back into so many hundred Westerns and cowboy books I read when I was just a young buck trying to emulate John Wayne. Then it was the Canyons - truly majestic scenery in the Cascades and particularly the Rockies.

* In Svalbard, the close wildlife encounters with Arctic Foxes, Reindeer and Walruses - and to a lesser extent, the Polar Bears. My favourite birds have been the beautiful white Ivory Gulls and dainty Arctic Terns. I was also delighted with the miniature flora in the tundra.

* Being in the Arctic Circle, right up to 83 degrees, only about 1000-odd clicks from the North Pole, was an experience I only ever dreamed about. Seeing so many dozen glaciers, watching them calve icebergs, and navigating through the resultant ice fields was wonderful. Even more so, being in the pack ice, leaning over the bow and watching our mini-icebreaker crunching through a metre of ice was mind-boggling. But actually standing on and walking on a glacier topped even that - simply thrilling! (Not sure why that was such a big deal, but it was unforgettable for both of us!)

* The Polar Plunge – insane but absolutely an experience of a lifetime.

* Then the extreme challenge of climbing the moraine and finding a fossil for myself was an achievement of which I am quite proud. The fossil is less than spectacular but getting there and back alive was no mean feat.

* In magical Greenland, the splendour of the mountains, cruising up close and personal with the magnificence of the mighty icebergs, the dramatic scenery in stark contrast with Svalbard, the dearth of birds that barely outnumbered the musk ox, were all issues that made us think about so many things in a new way.

* Iceland was simply gorgeous with the waterfall, the geyser and spectacular coastline. I want to go back and explore a lot more widely. Standing with one foot on each of two of the world’s great techtonic plates was another ex\perience of a lifetime.

* Newfoundland was beautiful and Cape Spear a tick to mark the start of our cross-Canada journey.

* Niagara – not something I would do again, but like Uluru, the Pyramids, the Eiffel Tower or the Grand Canyon, an iconic tourist destination that one has to endure if one is passing.

* The birds and other uncommon (for us) wildlife and flora – especially the tiny Arctic trees and other plants.

I could probably replace several of these with other wonderful sights and experiences, but that is at least a sample of the things that will stay in my mind for the rest of my life.

I think that is it for this time but we are already well into the planning for our next trip – already booked and paid – so roll on February and the Antarctic!!!

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dontjudgemepeepswrites · 5 years

Text

Nosebleed - Jake Peralta

Soulmate AU ~ any injuries you get, your soulmate gets as well. They don't just get the pain.

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

y/n - your name

y/f/n -your full name

y/s/n - your surname

y/e/c - your eye colour

y/h/l - your hair length

y/h/c - your hair colour

y/f/f - your favourite food

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

"Damn it," I think as I feel a punch to the face. By someone quite buff may I add. Except there's no one here other than me. It must be my soulmate. I then get punched again. For crying out loud, why's my soulmate gotta be so damn reckless? Eventually the punching stops. "Oh, thank goodness," I sighed in relief to no one in particular. However, I do realise I have a nosebleed.

Suddenly, my ringtone goes off. "Shit," I say, quickly grabbing a tissue before pressing accept and putting it on speaker without even looking at the caller ID. "Hello, this is Subway, what can I help you with?" I say, trying to cover up my nosebleed.

"Ha ha, very funny y/n. Anyway, you know how you're medically trained in first aid?" my cousin, Rosa, says.

"Well hello to you too Rosa. I'm good thanks. How about you?"

"I need your advice so I can sort out my idiot of a co-worker."

"What happened?"

"Our sergeant got mad and punched him in the face a few times and he's got a few injuries."

"You could Skype me. I'll be much more use that way."

"You alright? You sound strange."

"My doofus of a soulmate went and got themselves beat up and I've got a nosebleed."

"Oh, ok. I'll Skype you in a minute then."

"Ok," I say and hang up, waiting for the Skype call. Not long after, she calls on Skype and I immediately answer. "Okay, what are we looking at?" I ask.

"A nosebleed and a cut lip by the looks of it. Here, I'll show you," Rosa says, reversing the camera.

"Oh. That's all? It's not very serious Rosa. You just need no apply pressure with like a tissue or something for the lip and to keep his head down and hold the bridge of his nose. Do not tip his head back or he could get a blood clot. But in all honesty Rosa, why did you call me? I'm not an idiot, I know that you know how to deal with this sort of injury."

Rosa flips the camera back onto herself and sighs. "Fine. I just wanted an excuse to talk to you. I mean, you're always so busy and we never talk anymore."

"Look, I'm sorry we don't get to speak as much, but I'm so close to solving this case and it's just... y'know. You're a detective too. But I do have some good news!"

"What?" Rosa asks, genuinely interested.

"I'm moving to Brooklyn!"

"That's amazing, y/n! Do you have anywhere to stay? Because I'd be fine with having you as a roommate."

"Not yet, no. I just wanted to tell you before I made any plans. My precinct is actually quite shit here and I requested to transfer somewhere else in America and they said I could either move to Brooklyn or LA. But I'd love to stay with you, if I won't be a bother. Also, who is the guy that got beaten up by your Sargeant?"

"Jake Peralta. Cocky, childish and yet somehow one of the best detectives at the precinct. And of course you wouldn't be a bother! I'd love to have you here!"

"Hello Rosa's cousin! I'm Jake! The dashingly handsome and charming co-worker Rosa was talking about! Also, Rosa, 'I'd love to have you here', name of your sex tape!"

"I can see what you mean," I say to Rosa.

"Thank you!" Jake says, thinking I'm talking to him.

"I was saying that to Rosa." But he was kinda attractive, I have to admit.

"Oh. But still," he says.

"Y'know what, it's getting late here. I have to go," I say.

"I'm an hour ahead of you. And it's 10pm on a Saturday," Rosa points out.

"I know. I just really want to watch SNL. Sorry. I'll text you tomorrow though?"

"Sure. See ya y/n."

"Bye!" I say and then hang up.

Luckily my nosebleed has finished now. I quickly get up and grab some nachos while the adverts are on for SNL. This is gonna be a good night.

*time skip*

Ugh. I got no sleep last night and now I have a headache. I wonder if my soulmate can feel that. We don't feel every pain/injury the other soulmate feels, just most of them. Guys would absolutely hate it if they were forced to go through period pains every month. Girls would experience it anyway though. Ugh, what am I doing with my life? I'm 31 and I've not found my soulmate. I hate this. All of my co-workers and friends have found theirs. Heck, even my 16 year old niece has found hers and she's about half my age! I should try and get some sleep though. If my soulmate can feel this headache, it can't be very good for them.

*Jake's pov*

"You good there Jake?" Charles asks me.

"No. I've got the worst headache ever. I didn't drink last night. Did Terry punch me that hard? No, I'd have felt it sooner. It must be my soulmate. I hope they're ok, they seem to get hurt a lot."

"You can't speak, you get hurt loads too. I mean, think about it, they must've felt several of Terry's punches from last night. Heck, they may've even got a nosebleed!"

"Wait, what?"

"My doofus of a soulmate went and got themselves beat up and I've got a nosebleed."

"I said that they may've gotten a nosebleed. Why?"

"It's just, I was at Rosa's last night after getting beaten up by Terry because, y'know, she lives nearby and she started talking to her cousin, y/n, and y/n said that they got a nosebleed because their 'doofus of a soulmate went and got themselves beaten up'. And, as far as I'm aware, that's the only actual injury they had."

"Interesting. Could Jakey be finding his soulmate?" Charles suggests, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Possibly. They're moving to Brooklyn so we can try and find out. But whatever you do, we cannot tell Rosa. She'll murder us. Luckily, I don't know if they're hot yet, because I didn't get to see their face, so that may make it a bit easier."

*a month later*

*Rosa's pov*

"Rosa!"

"y/n! I'm so glad you're here! How are you?" I ask, hugging y/n. We've always been incredibly close and they can read me like an open book.

"I'm amazing, Rosa! I really need this. I need a fresh start. The only things that will stay the same is our relationship and how much my soulmate gets hurt."

"Is it that bad? Mine barely ever hurts themself. I'm quite lucky, I guess."

"Yeah, it is that bad. But, to be fair, I get hurt a lot too. I mean, I am a... cop. Wait, Rosa. Do you think my soulmate's a cop too?! That would explain so much!"

"Possibly. But they may just be really clumsy. Like, really clumsy."

"What, so clumsy that they've been shot in the thigh?"

"Wait. Shot in the thigh? Where exactly?" I swear, if it is who I think it is, I'm gonna murder him for putting my cousin/best friend through that pain.

"Um, it was here. I literally had to go to the hospital it was so bad. I called an ambulance by the way. I didn't just drive to the hospital while having a bullet wound." They pointed to where they got shot and it was right where HE got shot.

"Peralta, you're a dead man walking," I mumble underneath my breath so that y/n can't hear me.

"Are you ok Rosa? You're worrying me."

"I'm fine. But if you don't mind me slapping you, I need to test a theory."

"Fine. You can slap me. But please take your ring off. And don't do it too hard," they sigh, knowing that I only ask to do something like that to them if I have a good reason to.

"I'm so sorry for this y/n," I apologise in advance, taking my ring off my finger. "Are you ready?" They nod their head in response. I slap them across the face harder than I intended to. In fact, it left a red mark. "Shit, I'm so sorry y/n. Let me get you y/f/f to make it up to you," I say, feeling extremely guilty.

"It's fine, I've had worse happen to me but thank you for taking your ring off for me," they assure, rubbing their cheek in pain. "But I'm not one to deny an offer of y/f/f so, let's go, I guess."

Once I'm in the car, I get a call from Amy so I answer it. "Hey Amy. What's up? Also, I've got y/n here."

"Oh, hey y/n. How are you?"

"I'm alright, I guess. Rosa just slapped me to test a theory but now she feels bad and is taking me to get y/f/f so that's making me feel better."

"Hang on, Rosa, I need to speak to you in private. Sorry y/n, it'll be nice seeing you again though!"

"Don't worry about it! I understand, you guys probably need to discuss a case or something. I'll just go and grab some takeaway y/f/f since we just pulled up at the shop so you two can talk in private. Bye Amy," y/n says. Bless them, they're so sweet.

Once y/n's in the store, I say "ok, so what's up?"

"Did you slap y/n to see if Jake is their soulmate?"

"Possibly. Why? Did it work? Is he in pain?"

"Yes, it was hilarious. Especially since he was about to make a 'name of your sex tape' joke and then just screamed. How did you know Jake is y/n's soulmate anyway?"

"We started talking about their soulmate and they mentioned that their soulmate got shot in the thigh and pointed to exactly where Peralta was shot. It was so bad that y/n had to go to hospital."

"I guess they're soulmates then. Now what do we do?"

"I don't know, but I know that Peralta's starting to suspect that y/n could be his soulmate. I eavesdropped on a conversation him and Boyle had like a month ago and resisted the temptation to kill him. We need a plan. y/n's going to start working for the precinct in a week so we need to get them together before that. Don't say anything to Peralta, I'll talk to y/n."

"I'm scared about what your gonna do and say, but ok. Alright, I'll see you tomorrow Rosa."

"See ya Amy. Bye," I say and hang up. Right at that moment, y/n comes back into the car with the food.

"So how was your conversation?" they ask, trying to be polite but also secretly being a bit nosy.

"Fine. We're gonna go to my apartment now to eat. Also, I forgot to say, I got you a little welcome gift that I'm gonna give to you then. And don't you dare say what I think you're gonna say."

"A little welcome gift that I'm gonna give to you then--"

"y/n, don't."

"-- name of your sex tape," they say, ready to tuck and roll out of the car if need be.

"You and Jake are definitely gonna get along well," I say under my breath. Either y/n doesn't hear it or chooses to ignore it.

*at the apartment*

*y/n's pov*

"Welcome to your new home. I'll sort out the food, the present for you is on the table," Rosa announces, not needing to give me a tour since I've already been here several times. I look at the table, curiosity oozing out of me.

"Oh my goodness. Are you serious?! Tickets to see SNL live?! You shouldn't have," I say in shock.

"Consider it a welcome present. Besides, it's gonna be night out with the girls. You, me, Amy and Gina, who you haven't met yet."

"What's she like?"

"She's strange, but she has good intentions. Sometimes. You'll like her," Rosa explains. I let out a sigh of relief. "What? You scared you'll have social problems at work?"

"No. It's more just a sigh to show that I'm happy with the choice I've made and to be getting this fresh start with my best friend next to me."

"Ew. Emotions. But, I guess I can make an exception for you," Rosa lets out a small smile.

*the next day*

*Jake's pov*

"Pssst, Jake. We have a pink unicorn," Charles whispers not-so-discreetly.

"Ooh, I wanna see it," Scully says in awe.

"I'll give you a soda if you don't go," I say.

"Deal." I chuck him a soda which explodes the moment he opens it.

"A deal's a deal," I quip, going into the evidence locker. A while ago, Charles and I established a code. A pink unicorn means he's got info about my soulmate.

"Alright, so, y'know how Amy's terrible at lying and keeping secrets? Well I asked her what she's doing on Saturday night and said she was babysitting a datish - a mixture of a dog, cat and a fish - and admitted quite quickly what she was actually going to do: her, Rosa, Gina and y/n are gonna go to the live taping of SNL! I'm actually so jealous."

"Interesting... Boyle, what do you say we have a guy's night out? You and me go see a Saturday Night Live, live. Terry and Holt are probably busy and I don't think either of us really want Hitchcock and Scully to come so that cuts them off. How about it?"

"Are you serious?! A night with my best friend AND Benedict Cumberbatch?! I'd be insane to say no!"

"Great. Pick me up at 9:30 on Saturday."

"Will do."

*Saturday night*

*y/n's pov*

As I get out the shower, there's a knock at the door. I soon hear a voice that I've not heard (in real life) for ages. I quickly put on my clothes that I'm wearing to SNL on and run into the living room.

"Amy! It's so nice to see you again!"

"Hey y/n! It feels like it's been forever! How are you? Have you found your soulmate yet?" she asks, but it looks like she's trying to hide something.

"Amy, are you alright? You seem nervous."

"They're right. What did you tell Peralta?" Rosa asks, filled with suspicion.

"I didn't tell him anything! I told Boyle," she reasoned.

"That's basically the same thing! Whatever Boyle knows, Jake knows. And that's never good," Rosa says, whipping her phone out.

"I'm sorry, can one of you please explain what's happening? Who's Boyle? And what about Peralta? He's Jake, right? The one who got hurt that you called me about. What does he have anything to do with this?" I ask, confused out of my mind. Amy and Rosa look at each other, letting out a sigh of defeat.

"Well, we have reason to believe that Jake... is your soulmate. You remember when I slapped you? I nodded in response. "That's to see if something happened to Jake. It did. I first got to this theory when you told me about your soulmate getting shot in the thigh. You pointed to the exact same bit where he got shot. Normally, finding out he's your soulmate wouldn't be a problem. You'd just meet in the corny way most soulmates do. But Jake and his best friend, Charles Boyle, figured it out as well. Boyle then asked Amy what she's doing tonight and she told him. I can guarantee that Peralta and Boyle will be there."

"Ok. So what should I do? Should I try and find him or try and avoid him?" I ask, not sure how to handle the current situation.

"It's your choice. You're starting to work with him on Monday so you'll see him soon anyway."

"Ok then. I think what I'll do is not make it too easy for him to find me. If he wants to meet me tonight, I'm not just gonna let myself fall into his palm. And I think I have a plan."

"Great! Now we just need to wait for Gina to arrive," Amy says.

"You called, bitches?" a woman greets as she enters the apartment.

"I like you already."

*at the studio*

"Are you ready, girls?" I ask, a smirk clear on my face. I get an array of yes's in reply. "Good. Now, let's get this show on the road." The girls sit in their seats while I go backstage. I'm so glad that Rosa knows the writers and they helped us arrange something last minute.

"Hello, my name is Benedict Cumberbatch. I'm hosting SNL tonight. I've been about the plan and don't worry, I'll give nothing away."

"Thank you. I appreciate it."

"I would like to know why you're doing this though? If you don't mind me asking, of course."

"Because both him and I are detectives. What kind if detective would I be if I just gave him the satisfaction of meeting his soulmate when he planned it? It would be like a criminal admitting to murdering 19 people and admitting to it the very first time a police officer talked to them."

"Ah, I see. Well, I wish you the best of luck."

"Thank you. Well, I think the show's about to start so, good luck. You'll do great!"

"Thank you. Until we meet again," Benedict says and walks away, making final preparations, I assume.

The music starts and Benedict walks on stage, gaining a wild round of applause.

*Rosa's pov*

"Thank you. Thank you. Thank you all so much! It's such an honour to be hosting Saturday Night Live tonight! It's honestly a bit of a relief. I mean, I've had a tiring day. I would do what all Brits do, which is drink. Like a lot. Or spend ages walking around in hopes that you'll meet someone, literally anyone, that could have anything to do with your soulmate. Anyone. It could even be someone who had a one night stand with them. Actually, I met a very nice detective before I came on. They said their soulmate's here tonight and they were hoping to find them. Young love, am I right? Hey, Beck, how did you know Jessy was the one for you?"

"She punched my arm quite hard and felt the impact herself," Beck answered.

"I meant personality-wise," Benedict whispers.

"Oh. She was kind to me."

"Beck. That's not what I meant. What drew you to her?"

"I just told you."

"Just go get ready for the sketches," Benedict sighs, motioning for Beck to go backstage, causing the audience to laugh. "But anyway, my point was, if you ever feel down, drink like a Brit. Or be desperate. Anyway, on with the show! We'll be right back after a few words from our sponsors." The airing sign turns off, indicating that it's gone to the break.

"Oh my god! Girls, I didn't know you were here! You probably just came for Benedict Cumberbatch though. Anyway, where's your cousin, Rosa?" Jake asks, coming over, Boyle right behind him.

"One, why do you care why we're here, two, why do you care about my cousin, you've never met them, and three, they're not here. The three of us wanted a girl's night and to get away from your annoying ass for two minutes and the tickets were available," I respond in my normal voice.

"Then who's that detective Cumberbatch was talking about, huh?" Boyle questions, pulling a strange face, thinking that he's got us.

"There are loads of single detectives in New York. We all know that. And it's a popular show, there are bound to be other detectives here. Besides, it could be literally anyone in here," I respond. "Now leave my cousin alone. You'll see them on Monday at the precinct." I say this because I know that he'll want to see them before then and now has a time limit. A man tells us all to sit back down so we do.

*Jake's pov*

I walk back to my seat, deep in thought. No matter how much I hate to admit it, Rosa's probably right. As I arrive aback at my seat, I see a note on my chair.

So, you want to meet me before I start work on Monday :D

I sit down, holding the note. What the frick is happening? I look over at the girls and see then smirking at me. Amy holds up a bunch of paper which looks identical to the note I've been given. Those sons of bitches.

*next break*

"Sorry, are you Jake Peralta?" a voice asks me.

"Yes, I am. How can I help?" I say, looking up and seeing the most beautiful person I've ever seen. Maybe this is my soulmate!

"Those girls over there asked me to give this to you." It's another note!

Well I'm not gonna make it easy for you :D

Dammit.

*next break*

"Sir? A group of girls asked me to give you this. I'm assuming it's their phone numbers or something but one with black, curly hair told me not to look," a camera operator says as they hand me another note.

If you can find me by midnight, I'll declare you the best detective/genius there is (yes, I know about that). However, if you don't, you must declare me the greatest detective/genius there is. You'll get your final note at the end of the show from Gina :D

Game on, y/l/n.

*the end of the show*

"Gina, I believe you have something to give me," I say proudly.

"Hand out and eyes closed," she instructs. I roll my eyes but acquiesce. I feel something in my hand. "Open." I look at my hand and then at Gina.

"It's a note. Why did you do that?"

"To stall for time."

Well, Peralta. The time has come and I shall now test your memory skills. Think back to the character that was described in the first sketch. I match that description. Oh, you've also seen me several times so this shouldn't be too hard. I look forward to you telling the precinct about my awesomeness :D p.s. No one's left yet. I have my ways to make this as hard as possible.

The person described in the first sketch. They had... I think it was y/e/c eyes, y/h/l y/h/c hair and y/s/t skin. I head into the lobby, searching for someone who matches my description. It's currently 11:15pm which means I have 45 minutes. That's plenty of time

*11:55pm*

Dammit. There's still no sign of them.

"Hey, Peralta. Take this hint," Rosa says, handing me another note.

I never said I was in the lobby, did I? You know what they say, assuming makes an ass out of u and me ;)

Of course. I'm an idiot. They're a smort detective and figured out that I'd just assume that they were in the lobby. Unless, it's a red herring and now they've entered the lobby. I have another quick yet thorough (title of my sex tape) scan of the crowd. Nope, still no one. I frantically search the building for the last 5 minutes before I lose. Then I hear it. The clock chimes midnight. Dammit. I then get a text from a blocked number.

Blocked Number: sent at 00:01

Too bad you didn’t find me Peralta, I guess you’re just gonna have to see me tomorrow

Dammit.

*Monday*

*Rosa's pov*

"Are you ready to tell everyone how you're better than Peralta, y/s/n?" Rosa asks with confidence as we're in the elevator going up to the bullpen.

"As ready as I'll ever be, Diaz." Just as I say this, the elevator dings open. Peralta looks at who's arriving and I swear, his jaw hits the ground. "Peralta, flies are going to go in your mouth if you don't shut it," I sass.

"It was you?!" he expresses in shock.

"We'll talk about all of that once I've met everyone. That's when you can make the announcement."

"Ah, Detective y/s/n. I'm Captain Raymond Holt. I believe that you're already acquainted with most of the precinct. This is Sergent Terry Jeffords and these are Detectives Hitchcock and Scully. Welcome to the precinct."

"Thank you for letting me join such a high-status precinct, Captain."

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but would you mind telling me why Peralta looks like he's been hit by a mallet seven times?" Sergeant asks.

"Of course. Now, as you may or may not know, Peralta and I are soulmates and all of these detectives figured it out. Except Hitchcock and Scully. But anyway, I decided to play a little game with Peralta since he decided he wanted to hijack my night at SNL with the girls to meet me before today. I wrote him several notes to be given to him at certain points. I gave Peralta an hour to find me, to which he didn't. But the reason why he's so shocked is because I gave him two of the five notes myself! Isn't that right, Jake?" He nods his head. "One time as myself, pretending that Gina, Amy and Rosa gave me one to pass on and the second time as a crew member of SNL. I threw in a little story saying that Rosa threatened me to not open it. I then continued to pretend to be a crew member for the rest of the show. I stayed as a crew member until 11:30. I then went to the bathroom and went back into my clothes from when I gave Peralta the first of the two notes. He swept past me several times without noticing. And the last note was a red herring, but also a genuine reason as to why you couldn't find me. And now, Peralta, I believe you have something to say to everyone here."

"Yeah, you're right," Peralta says with a sigh. Everyone gets their phones out, even those who are unaware of what's about to happen. "y/f/n is the world's greatest detective/genius," he mumbles.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" I ask mockingly.

"y/f/n is the world's greatest detective/genius!" he shouts.

"There we go," I say. He looks at me and pouts. I kiss him on the cheek to get a reaction out of him and he blushes deeply.

"Peralta, are you blushing?" Rosa asks, still filming and loving every moment of this.

"Psh, no. Of course not," Jake dismisses.

"Well I think you're cute when you blush," I admit confidently, knowing he's already wrapped around my finger. His blush gets deeper. "Aww, he's embarrassed. How about we go for drinks after work so I can make up for it?"

"Definitely! I mean, I don't care," he tries to play off.

"You're such a dork, Peralta," I say with a smile.

#jake peralta #jake peralta one shot #jake peralta imagine #b99 #brooklyn99 #brooklyn 99 #imagine #oneshot

9 notes · View notes

ecmusgrave · 5 years

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It’s 3pm on a Sunday. I am on an Amtrak train back to NY from a weekend in Virginia. It’s been a long weekend that has simultaneously felt extremely short, and I don’t feel ready to go back. I miss everyone already, my heart is heavy and I have still yet to get over this discomfort with goodbyes.

In between the last time I wrote and now, I had a birthday. I turned 24 on a day that began bitterly cold in Brooklyn and ended up being somewhat temperate by the time I walked home from the train at 10pm. I had friends out for sushi that evening, I called my sister, I called my uncle, I called my mom and dad. A few nights later more friends took me out drinking at Duff’s in Williamsburg. I was plied with good food all week and was reminded of how loved I am, and part of that was a mini-vacation the following weekend (ending today) to hang out with my sister Caroline, her husband Ryan, my sister Sarah and her two boys, at Caroline and Ryan’s house in Richmond.

Thursday was a dreary and kind of woozy day, the train ride down took forever (or felt like it did) and I finally landed at my sister Caroline’s around 10pm. She made me soup, and we sat around her dining room table, small but fitting for just the three of us. The soup was thick with celery and herbs and felt like the most nourishing thing I’d had in weeks, and I slept well that night.

I came to Virginia kind of sick and got sicker on Friday. The weather was rainy Friday and Sunday, but very nice on Saturday. Friday I was meant to get a tattoo from Katie Davis, a local artist who I’ve wanted to have a piece done by for years. My first tattoo was done by her husband, Fred Pinckard, at Salvation Tattoo in Richmond where they both work. I follow both of them on Instagram and realized I could take an extra day for this weekend trip and get a tattoo done by Katie. I was going to get a deer tattooed on the other side of my body from where Fred’s tattoo was done- hers would be on the outside of my left thigh. The deer was meant to be an homage to my time in the UK. Friday I spent most of the day throwing up, with some kind of stomach bug, so I had to cancel my appointment, which I made a month out. I felt awful about it.

My hope is to come back and get it done, but I think what I’m so disappointed about is that I don’t know for sure when I’ll be back. Train tickets are expensive, my budget is tight enough as it is, and I can’t really justify taking time and money to go do it. If circumstances were different I’d probably stay another night or so in RVA and get the tattoo done, but I’m still in such a transitional period (read: broke) that a $70 train ticket isn’t something I can shrug off. Maybe in a few months I’ll feel differently, but missing out on this session (after I’d set aside time and money!) because I was sick was a huge bummer.

So was missing out on a lot of things I wanted to do in the UK because I was sick, frankly, and so is not feeling like I have the money or time to go to a doctor (if that would even help?) and figure out what I need to do to not get sick as often as I do. I don’t want it to become a trend, I don’t want to have a weak stomach- but how much money and time do people waste in denial about medical conditions? How much time and money to people waste, in general? Am I wasting time and money by staying in New York?

Unclear, not the point. Now that I’ve done enough complaining:

The weekend was great as soon as my sister Sarah and my two nephews Nate and Eli, arrived at Caroline’s house. We sat around and played card games and I ate some rice and felt better, slowly. I woke up the next day feeling much better, though still tried to take it easy- maybe I’ve learned my lesson with overcompensating from a sick day. Sarah let me drive her Subaru to bowling, and I paid a cash toll for the first time, tossing the coins in a big silver basket coming out of the booth. The second time around I missed it (I’m publishing this on my blog, Jesus) and Sarah scrambled out of the car and picked up all of the coins I dropped for us to be able to get going. I ended up winning the second round of bowling, Ryan made us spectacular spaghetti and meatballs for dinner, we watched the 2018 Robin Hood movie and everyone just sat around, comfortably watching a movie, which I was taking part in for the first time in what felt like a long time. I am feeling tears prick at the backs of my eyes thinking about it.

And I got to go out and photograph under the Nickel Bridge in Richmond. I took Caroline’s car and drove less than two miles from their house to this park connected to a boarded-up pump house, and walked out on the towpath along the river for a while. It was cold enough to want for a jacket, but I didn’t need my coat. (I feel like I’ve been wearing a winter coat for eight goddamn years.) I leaned over a chain link fence and trespassed over CSX property and breathed in crisp pre-spring air and felt my feet sink deeper into the ground, and it felt freeing. Shooting 35mm and feeling free, in Virginia, is how I started taking the pictures I take now, and every time I do it I feel like I need to do it ten times over.

Caiti mentioned my feeling sad was about growing up, maybe growing away from my family more than I’m comfortable with. I said, if I’m growing up why do I still feel like a dumb kid? Does anybody ever really figure out how to balance this shit? I worry that my family feels that I’m aloof and inaccessible because I chose to live in New York. The truth is I don’t have the resources to put up more than one person, and my apartment is small enough that my family members (almost all of whom are older) would still feel cramped. I wanted to move away from the DC area, and wanted to avoid going to a community college, or taking a gap year, or embracing the unknown, when I moved to New York: I didn’t want to move away from my family, but that’s what I ended up doing, and now I have a life in New York and they have lives elsewhere.

And that’s okay! I’ve had important growth since then, and learned important lessons, and honestly having made a life for oneself (anywhere!) is a goddamn challenge, no matter who you are. I grant this. I trust myself, I trust my choices, but it’s hard when it feels like sometimes I’m turning my back on people who do things like scoop up coins from the road for me, or who get me a whole cake a week after my birthday so I still have candles to blow out, or who give me the last of their awesome homemade soup (even if I did reject it the following day), to pursue my own path and make my own choices and be my own person, somewhere that feels so far away.

Part of this is sadness that I’ve been denying my own narrative, under the pretenses of furthering others’. Right? It’s probably time I got serious about what I wanted, if I’m having the feeling that I don’t want what I have.

I had simple wants and needs when I started looking for a new job: I wanted free time without sacrificing decent pay, I wanted to be able to skip town every once in a while without getting into trouble or missing out on anything. (To be fair- two of my favorite standup comedians did shows in New York while I’ve been out of town.) I needed to take care of myself and not feel so irreparably sad all the time. I don’t think my wants or needs have changed much- just my ability to pay attention to them.

Our train is pulling through DC currently, in a minute I’ll look out the window and see Silver Spring. I went to Book Thug Nation in Williamsburg a couple of weeks back, spoke to the cashier at length about the store and the neighborhood since I’d never been before. It turns out he grew up maybe a mile away from where I did, in Silver Spring, home to many, beloved by few. We’ve now veered away and are plugging away through Hyattsville but I’m still stuck thinking about that conversation, where we talked about not feeling okay calling ourselves New Yorkers, even though that’s what all our family and friends from Maryland felt like we were. My parents often call me that, and I don’t mind, but it feels like a lie. We’re pulling through the suburbs just below Baltimore and the ground is already dusted with snow- it feels just shy of cruel- which is me being melodramatic. I just don’t want to claim this snow as mine.

I’m thinking about how terrified I was to move home and stop making work after college. The new work I’ve been doing, I decided recently (after a come-to-jesus with Julie over a mountain of nachos and some other very important dialogue), is about my impetus to keep making work after school. It’s about determination and willfulness and the urge to keep doing, to keep going. I’m doing it subconsciously but I’m doing it, mostly in places that aren’t where I live.

In some ways, I wonder if I’m honoring the places I’m from, the places I leave part of myself every time I leave, by bringing it back to New York and actually MAKING the work here. I don’t have an Imacon in Maryland or Virginia, it’s not like I would have guaranteed access to anything if I moved; I couldn’t even find somewhere that sold film south of New York, much less a place that develops it, without charging a huge markup. I made the choices I made not because they were wrong or right, but because they were my choices to make, and given the circumstances I was when I made them, I think I chose wisely. In this practice, though, I need the escape as much as I need to return to the fold. I was writing a few weeks ago about longing, and how longing leads to searching, and how, usually, if you search stringently enough, if you sift through enough dirt, you find something good. I’m still searching, and it’s a laborious process- but I have rewards. I have tangible evidence that I’ve made work and continued the patterns that are good for me (and dropped some that aren’t), which is what I wanted.

And I still want it- I think a casualty of that is feeling sad I can’t spend all my time in one place for too long without getting an itch to leave. I loved traveling. I will do more of it. I’ll also come back to the places I’m from more. I wanted to promise this with a tattoo, but I don’t need a tattoo to promise myself that. (Though I still want it, goddamn it.) I want it to be enough to promise myself something. While I was asleep an old friend texted me and asked what my goals were for this year: I think that’s a decent one.

#iPhone #Virginia #Richmond VA #RVA

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alexwinfield-blog1 · 5 years

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Digital Footprints: Put YOUR stamp on it.

It’s Monday morning. A new day. Another week of school. You turn off your alarm and head straight over to Twitter. “Monday already !!!!!!! (Crying emoji X10) Can’t w8 to get back into bed”. Your phone pings. It’s Lizzie. Your BFF. She never lets you down. Except not today it seems. “Soz bbe. Sooooo ill. Grab any hw sheets for me plzzzz (blowing kiss emoji) xxxx”. Mum shouts up the stairs “Are you getting up at any point today? The dog needs walking and you need to take your brother to school!” You slam your phone into the duvet, roll your eyes and take a deep breath. You’re annoyed and the day has only just begun. Toast in one hand and dragging your brother out the door by the other, you smile at the postman. “Morning”, you say. Knowing full well he loses your packages ALL THE TIME. Be nice mum always tells you. Manners cost nothing.

You get to school. The mean girls stare you down as you walk to your English lesson. You try to look cool. You tell yourself that one day they’ll take you in as one of their own, but maybe today just isn’t that day. You find your seat, unpack your books, your pencil case, tucking your phone under your hideous plaid skirt. Silly really. Illuminating skirts aren’t exactly the school uniform market’s latest innovation. You’re top of your class. You know you shouldn’t be scrolling through Instagram in a lesson, but everyone else does, and you for sure don’t want to stick out any more than what you already do. You get A’s in nearly every assignment and you compete in nearly every extra-curriculum sport in the school, but you can’t help but fantasise about that Instagram #gymbod. Your parents are immensely proud, and your teachers? You can’t do enough to please them. You love school. Never too shy to raise your hand in class, never too eager to stand in front of the WHOLE of year 11 to deliver a speech about the school’s litter policy, and never too embarrassed to admit to your friends that you’ve not even kissed a boy.

It’s lunchtime. You and your best friends of 12 years gather around the canteen table.They tell you about their exciting weekends. How their heart throb boyfriends distracted them from getting any work done. How they got ridiculously drunk at a family party and how their mum grounded them for coming home at 10:33 – 3 minutes later than expected. And you? You just listen. For the most part, you spend your break and lunch times talking in the hockey team WhatsApp group chat. They’re a laugh. Sometimes you tell the girls about your boring weekend, or even fluff it up slightly by telling them you actually got out of your pyjamas. They would never believe you. You’re well and truly the plain Jane out of the bunch. The new boy in your year asks if the seat next to you is taken. The girls think he’s a nerd but you think he’s quite cute. You say no. The girls sigh as if to say “you’re such a loser”, but you don’t care. You have to pretend you don’t know his name, that you don’t have an unhealthy obsession with checking his Facebook. You know his cat goes by the name of Clive, but you pretend you don’t know that. You know he plays for the local rugby team, but you’re not supposed to know that either. You don’t know that his birthday is the 6th of June, and most importantly, you must NOT show any bitterness towards his girlfriend of 3 years.

Home time at last. You’re loosening your tie as you get closer to the front door, eager to jump straight back into bed. PING. It’s the girls group chat. “House (girl dancing emoji) Sat nite. 8.30. B there or b (square emoji)”. NOOO. You promised mum you’d have a film night with her. Saturday night rolls around. You’ve been plotting all week how you could get away with this one, but she’s a mum. They find out everything. Not this time. You divert from the party situation. It’s now a revision sleepover situation with the girls. You ask to go and of course you’re allowed. School first, partying second. It’s 10pm. You’re having the best time but you assured mum updates on the revision sesh. So, as promised, you load up Instagram stories. On your second Instagram account, obviously. By second, you mean the only Instagram account your mum thinks exists, right? You locate the photo album named “revision”. You browse this until you find the most colourful, most mind-map-ful, most hard working-esque photo you can find. And voila! A little later, in comes a text from mum. “Wonderful stuff. Looks like you’re really working hard. See you in the morning :)” . Little does she know, over on what might as well scream @yourerliar101, several stories and photos were posted of your amazing night with your besties. In the morning it seems the party was a huge success. Tweets and Instagrams raving about the night – “Can’t believe Josh taught every1 to do the (worm emoji) (cry laughing emoji)”. “Had the best nite EVAAAAAA (tongue out emoji)”. “Me and the gals last night!!!!!!! (cocktail emoji) (heart eye emoji) #lovethem”.

Sound familiar? Well, this may not be too dissimilar to a day in the life of your late teenage years. (Millennials, this one is for you!) Through this artificial account, we learn that in just 24 hours, you are likely to perform a variety of different roles. You’re a reliable friend and a caring sibling. You’re also studious, a potential lover and occasionally a liar. But sometimes it’s for the best, right? So, quite literally, how can these personalities become transparent online?

Just like this teenager, the average social media user, whatever you may define this to be, can be traced online. Social media can speak volumes about a person. Not just what they get up to on the weekend, but the finer details. For example, they’re obsession with their house rabbits, how much they can’t stand their boss, and more recently, how they’ve jumped on-board Facebook’s latest bandwagon, “rate my meal”.

Social media, such as Instagram and Twitter allow me to present the most favourable, or sometimes least favourable, versions of myself. If you were to rewind to old school Alex on Twitter, you would definitely find tweets containing homophones, such as “u”, with my favourite acronym, still to this day, being “lol” – only used sarcastically of course. As well as this, I was a sucker for, and admittedly still am, a cluster of exaggerated punctuation, but mostly “!!!!!!!”. Although Crystal (2008) claims that young users of social media, especially in SMS, will use abbreviations such as “GTGMIW” (Got to go, mum is watching), this wasn’t necessarily the case when I was growing up with social media. Nowadays, it’s all about filtering what you put online. This screening allows you to hide your online activity, for example by disguising your wild Friday night shenanigans by deselecting your mum from viewing your Snapchat story. Or, creating a separate Instagram just for your friends’ entertainment. You can be as embarrassing as you like and you won’t have 800 followers judging you.

Goffman (1974) refers to this online social interaction as “audience segregation”. We ultimately filter aspects of our lives from certain people in order to curate and maintain a multitude of personalities depending on the context we are in. So, for me, this means presenting a sensible, family-friendly Alex on Facebook, an interesting and good-humoured Alex on Twitter, and an exciting, adventurous Alex on Instagram. Let’s take a look…

So, 2017 A-Level Results day. Here, we’ve got a definite exaggerated use of punctuation and excitable capitalisation. Not only this, I clearly thought the use of the extreme smiley emoji X2 wasn’t enough, resulting in going the extra mile with a #. What am I doing here? Looking back on this, this for sure could have been Facebook worthy. This could have bagged me a gushing army of comments from overjoyed family members bursting with pride. But why Twitter? My friends would see this. People I know, but don’t really know, would see this. Those 23 likes - those 23 people thought this was worthy of a tweet and that’s all that mattered. In this moment, I. Was. Clever.

Evidently, over the years, I desired to either be desperately funny or desperately embarrassing. You decide this one.

Would I have found any of these tweets to be bland if I weren’t to use homophones? Or exaggerated punctuation? Or hashtags? Were these attempts for me to moan about how busy my life was? Did I want sympathy or just someone to relate to?

Here’s Instagram Alex. Holidaying in the Dominican Republic, Lanzarote and Greece. Eating Wagamamas at least once a week. Being overly obsessed with a French Bulldog, attending fancy-dress parties and the occasional festival. This is what I choose to share online. Not very exciting, but a fairly accurate representation of me. You can guarantee nearly every other caption incorporates an excessive use of emoticons, sarcasm and most definitely a little too much of this “!!!!!”.

What do these linguistic features allow me to achieve?

If I asked a complete stranger to read my Twitter, browse my Facebook and scroll through my Instagram, they would probably argue that my presence across these social media platforms doesn’t really differ that greatly. You could say that for the most part, I present the most authentic version of myself online. I’m not one to shy away from no-make up selfies, or tell the world about how groggy I feel after waking up from that 3- hour nap, or in fact how much I moan about going to my 20 hours a week part-time kitchen job.

However, for some people, this is not the case. Without audience segregation there would be a context collapse. Employees would start saying “lmao” when their boss asks for a coffee. Students would use inappropriate emoticons to sign of their “sorry I can’t make it to the lecture today, I’m ill” email. Parents would text, or even worse, tag you in their FB status announcing “#DINNERISREADY” instead of actually calling you down for dinner, and we definitely don’t want to live in a world full of parents who hashtag EVERYTHING.

So, what can we learn from this?

For both professional and personal matters, it’s important to present yourself online in a way that is consistent. You don’t want people to think you have 25 different personalities. Keep this for the real-life stuff. No one likes a catfish. After all, if 70% of employers screen candidates’ social media before they consider hiring, it’s important to avoid branding yourself as a fool online. Keep those drunken night out videos OFFLINE and maybe consider deleting those 2012 “Like for a rate <3” cringey Facebook statuses. However, don’t go erasing yourself offline completely in fear that you’ll never get a decent job. After all, 47% of employers argue that having an online presence allows them to learn a bit about who they’re hiring. So, be open, but not TOO open. Be YOU. However, if “you” means writing Facebook statuses about how much you love playing Angry Birds at work, or how you’re easily persuaded to go clubbing on a Monday night, maybe it’s best you don’t share the real you online. Be mindful about the digital footprint trail you’re leaving behind.

References:

Driver, S. (2018, October, 7). Keep It Clean: Social Media Screenings Gain In Popularity. Retrieved from: https://www.businessnewsdaily.com/2377-social-media-hiring.html

Jones, R. H., & Hafner. C. A. (2012). Undersatnding Digital Literacies. London: Routledge.

#week5

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sleeplesspensieve · 6 years

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Remedy For Guilt - V

Summary: The daughter of Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange is offered the opportunity to teach at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry after training as a Healer since her graduation. Her past haunts her and she relies on her old Potions teacher for help but what will happen when they get too close for comfort?

Rated: E for graphic sex scenes in later chapters. Over 18′s only please.

Word Count: 4021

Multichapter Fic (Expected to be around 30-35 chapters with a planned sequel which will take place during the Harry Potter Books)

Chapter Five – The Start of Term

Saturday, September 1st had finally arrived. Most of the staff were placing the finishing touches on the grounds in preparation for the students who would be arriving that night. Others responsible for organising transport were gathering the thestrals in the forest for the older students to ride. Soon enough 7pm neared and the Great Hall began to fill with students excited to see their old friends and greet the year that was to come.

Lyra Lestrange was seated in between Professor Vector and Professor Snape on the High Table. Professor McGonagall was observed to enter the hall followed by a group of small first years. Lyra always took relief that she was sorted privately in the Headmaster’s office rather than in front of everyone in the school though her sorting was quick, the hat shouted ‘Slytherin’ as soon as it touched the hair on her head.

After the Sorting Hat had sung its song Minerva instructed the first years and began calling out each name. She was reminded of a game she’d play with the other students who sat near her. They’d whisper their guess and the person with the most correct guesses would receive a galleon from all of the losers. As the game gained popularity Lyra and her friends got significantly richer.

Lyra began the game in her head and she managed to get the first few right. She looked to the wizard on her right and began whispering her guesses smugly.

“Belby, Marcus,” McGonagall called out.

“Slytherin,” he whispered in a voice loud enough that Snape could hear her.

The Sorting Hat repeated her choice with a loud voice. The Slytherins cheered.

“He’s pure blood,” Snape rolled his eyes.

“Bell, Katie.”

“Gryffindor,” she whispered again.

“Gryffindor!” the Sorting Hat yelled, a fierce applause erupting from the far left hand side of the room. From the corner of her eye she saw Professor Snape cock an eyebrow.

“Carmichael, Eddie.”

“Gryffindor.”

“Ravenclaw!” she frowned in response to the Sorting Hat’s announcement.

“Chang, Cho.”

“Ravenclaw,” she said.

“You can’t say Ravenclaw just cause she’s a-” Snape began.

“Ravenclaw!” A playful smirk came across Lyra’s face as she guessed correctly.

The game continued with Snape joining in. They both guessed all the Slytherin’s correctly, it was easy enough as most of them were pure bloods or as Lyra used to describe they looked like douchebags.

“Edgecombe, Marietta.”

“Ravenclaw,” they whispered in unison.

The Sorting Hat agreed. The Potions Master noticed the Headmaster give them a sideways glance and he pointed it out to Lyra. She looked over and smiled at the Headmaster then turned to Snape and smiled cheekily. She felt like a schoolgirl getting caught passing notes in class. They watched the remainder of the Sorting Ceremony in silence, instead of guessing their house Lyra attempted to remember the names that matched the faces. She looked towards the far end of the hall where most of the older students were and recognised quite a few faces of students who were in younger years when she attended.

Albus Dumbledore stood up to welcome the students. “Welcome! Let’s get straight to it!”

Lyra enjoyed watching the first years’ eyes widen in surprise as the tables filled with food. She helped herself to some food in front of her and Professor Vector engaged Lyra with conversation about the latest discoveries in Arithmancy.

“I’m disappointed that you didn’t continue the subject,” Septima said. “You did so well in your OWL.”

“I wanted to put my best effort into my other subjects,” Lyra said with a fake smile. In all honesty she had little to no interest in Arithmancy.

“I heard you got all O’s,” the Arithmancer said.

Lyra nodded, “Potions, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Transfiguration, Herbology and Music.”

“You could have been an auror with those grades,” she replied. “I suppose Healers are important too. You could’ve done without Music and done Advanced Arithmancy.”

Lyra gave a fake laugh and replied, “Well, I just needed something creative to maintain my sanity.”

“Music is a lot of work though,” Septima continued.

She looked towards Severus with wide eyes hoping he would take note and save her from the conversation but he smirked and continued talking to the teacher next to him. Septima resumed her meal and Lyra did the same.

A few moments passed and conversation in the hall was at its height, most students had finished eating. The Headmaster stood to address everyone.

“Now that we are done with our feast I would like to give my usual start of term notices,” Professor Dumbledore announced, “As most of our students should know by now, the Forest is out-of-bounds, magic is not permitted in the corridors between classes and there are a number of objects which have been banned, the list is fastened on the door of Mr Filch’s office.”

“I would also like to take the time to introduce our new Muggle Studies teacher who has taken over Professor Quirrell who will be away, Professor Burbage.” Charity stood up and happily waved at the students. Oh god, Lyra would be next. “We also have a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Lestrange.” Lyra stood briefly, giving a half smile then sitting.

“Try not to seem too excited,” Severus said to Lyra in a low voice. She was starting to question whether this was a good idea. She shrugged it off, most teachers only last the year anyway, then she could be off to continue her studies.

“Also, this year we have decided to host a ball to celebrate a thousand years since the founding of Hogwarts,” the Headmaster continued, “It will be held on December 20th prior to the end of the school term and it is open to all students.”

With that the Headmaster dismissed the students and they headed to their common rooms directed by their prefects. The teachers soon dispersed, some of them were responsible for patrolling the corridors until 10pm where Mr. Filch and Mrs Norris would take over, the rest returned to their rooms. Lyra made her way to her living quarters and began to prepare her lessons.

Monday came around a lot quicker than Lyra had hoped, though she was relieved that her first two classes were first years, Gryffindor and Slytherin followed by Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. At 9am sharp Lyra opened the door to her classroom and welcomed the first lot in. The children were so small and cute, she couldn’t have imagined she had ben that little at age eleven. She smiled at them as they went past, each student finding a place for them to sit.

“Good Morning, students,” Lyra said as she walked to the front of the room once the students had all settled in. “I am Professor Lestrange and I will be teaching you Defence Against the Dark Arts this year.” The words felt so strange on her tongue. “The purpose of this subject is to best equip you for the world in a practical sense against things that you may encounter. I realise that all of you will come from different backgrounds so you might be wondering what you will encounter.”

With a wave of her wand the blinds were drawn and another switched on the projector. “For those of you from non-wizarding backgrounds you may have grown up thinking that creatures such as werewolves,” an image of a werewolf transforming played on the screen, “vampires,” the image switched to a woman being bitten, “and ghosts,” the projector went blank and the Bloody Baron emerged from behind it and walked down the aisle between the desks resulting in a few students jumping from their seats, “are all myths and legends but I assure you they are real.”

“It is my job to equip you with the knowledge on how to best defend yourself against not only these creatures but also from witches and wizards who may want to harm you,” she said. “I do not mean to scare you but it is best to be honest and I assure you, no harm will come to you as long as you are in Hogwarts and you are sensible. Defence Against the Dark Arts is a compulsory subject up until your fifth year, with good reason, so I suggest you all put the effort in.”

“I’m sure you are all excited to learn how to use your wands,” she continued, “So I thought I would teach you a simple spell.” “Lumos” she cast, her wand emitting a bright white light from the end of it. “Handy when you find yourself in a dark cave or you have lost something under your bed, it also is effective against some spectrals and spirits who do not like light.”

The class got out their wands and Lyra demonstrated the proper wand technique, encouraging students to follow her movements. Once the period was over she assigned the students to practice the spell as homework, expecting them to be able to do it by the time their next class would come around on Wednesday. Lyra found that her method was successful and repeated the same thing for the first years in next period. She was surprised that she actually found teaching enjoyable, seeing the students learn the wand-illuminating charm was extremely satisfying. They’d beckon for their attention excitedly as they succeeded in their attempt, she awarded 10 house points for the first successful charm.

Lyra had a short break to eat before she had to teach the fifth years which she was dreading but not as much as the seventh years. Both these groups of students were in their examination year which meant that she would have to cover any incompetence that the teacher prior to her had, she just hoped it wouldn’t be a complete disaster.

Third period came around and she highlighted the importance of the OWLs before handing out an exam to test what they had learnt over the past few years. After they had completed it she asked the students what they had learnt with their last teacher. It all seemed to follow curriculum but she didn’t manage to fit any actual theory or practical into the lesson so she had no homework to give. She spent her free period sorting through all the exams and highlighting areas she thought she would need to cover over the year. She had managed to spend the hour adjusting her lesson plans to include their gaps in knowledge and it seemed to all work.

Soon enough it was lunch, having skipped breakfast out of nervousness Lyra was keen to head to the staff room and help herself to some sandwiches. Whilst she was there she noticed Professor McGonagall and Professor Severus talking, she was worried that it was about her but they invited her over to sit with them.

“I heard your classes went well,” Professor McGonagall said. “All the first years couldn’t stop talking about it in my class. You’ve given me a real challenge.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to cause a distraction,” she said.

Minerva laughed, “Not at all, I think it’s a good thing.” She held her shoulder and gave her a smile, “You seem to be a natural, don’t stress too much.” The Transfiguration Professor let go and moved off.

“How have your lessons been?” Lyra asked Severus.

“Another untalented bunch,” he said. “The Weasley twins managed to blow up their cauldron. They are trouble, keep an eye out for them.”

“Bill and Charlie weren’t that bad,” Lyra said, she knew the boys from her years in Hogwarts.

Snape shook his head, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Severus had warmed to Lyra a lot quicker than he had expected. He originally wanted to keep close see if she would be up to anything that would put the staff or students in danger but he didn’t see any evidence of this. Instead Severus felt himself forming a friendship with the witch. Seeing her in the state she was in the other morning made him feel partially responsible for taking care of her but he didn’t understand why he felt obligated. He had known Lyra when she was a child during his days as a Death Eater and when she was a teenager at Hogwarts, maybe he felt like he was still her teacher. Nonetheless he had set aside some time researching potions that might be suitable for her.

Severus drew one out of his pocket that he had discovered and brewed over the weekend. He handed it to her, “This might help.”

She smiled and took the bottle out of his hands. “Thank you, Professor.”

“One teaspoon an hour before you go to bed,” he instructed. “No more, no less. Also, you may as well call me Severus, most of the staff have invited you to call you by their first name and it would seem improper if I allowed it to continue.”

“Thank you, Severus,” she smiled.

The remainder of Lyra’s day was uneventful. She taught the third years about boggarts and had them each face it with no problems. The fourth years were her final class for the day and they spent their time practicing counter curses. After dinner in the Great Hall Lyra was exhausted, Severus reminded her to take the potion he had given her and she did follow the instructions.

Lyra managed to fall asleep with ease that night and the next morning she woke up well-rested. She was relieved it worked, it allowed her to have time to go and have breakfast before the start of her lessons. She had hoped to run into Severus to thank him but he was nowhere to be seen. She sat with Filius and Septima, both complimenting her success on her first day.

When the daily post arrived Lyra was surprised to see that the Malfoy family owl was circling overhead and held two letters with a small package. She opened the letters, both addressed to her and read them carefully.

Lyra,

I hope your first day of teaching went well. You know if you have any problems you can come back here. I’ve sent you a small treat just in case they aren’t feeding you right. Lucius sends his regards.

Your Aunty Cissy x

Lyra laughed to herself at the brief letter her aunt sent her. She opened the small package and saw that there were six cupcakes that Narcissa had decorated green with an animated silver snake. She placed them aside and opened the other letter that was delivered.

Hi Lyra,

I miss you. Mother said I can write to you when I want. I helped her make the cupcakes, I chose the colours. It matches the scarf you wore when you were at school.

Crabbe and Goyle came over and they lost the toy snitch Father bought me for Christmas last year. He said that he wouldn’t buy me a new one.

How is Hogwarts? Is everyone nice to you? Do you have friends yet?

I hope you come to visit soon.

Love from,

Draco

She smiled fondly at the messages her family sent her. It placed her in a positive mood as she dismissed herself from breakfast and went on to face her classes for the day. She promised herself that she would write her replies when she was finished. The first few periods went by smoothly and soon enough Lyra was teaching the seventh years. It was considerably smaller than the rest of the year groups she had taught, as she only had one seventh year class whilst with the others she had two. She was familiar with a few of the students as they were in their third year whilst she was in her final year. The two who stood out were Charles Weasley and Nymphadora Tonks, her cousin.

The bubblegum haired girl approached the older Slytherin student who was standing in front of the lake. She had recognised her as Lyra Malfoy, or should she say Lestrange as the rumours had recently circulated the school. “Are you alright?” the younger of the two asked.

“I’m fine,” the older girl said. “Who are you?”

“Nymphadora Tonks, most people call me Tonks,” she said, “Actually I prefer it if you call me Tonks.”

“Right,” Lyra said dismissively.

“I actually spoke to my mum and she said you were my cousin,” Tonks said.

“Most pure-bloods are related,” Lyra responded.

“I’m only half,” Tonks said, “My mum’s your mum’s sister.”

“Oh, the blood traitor,” she said. Tonks’ hair turned red in response. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that it’s just the way my aunt and mother spoke about it. They never referred to her by name, just said that they had a blood traitor sister that tainted the Black family tree. I honestly couldn’t care less about the whole blood purity thing.”

Tonks’ hair returned to the bubblegum pink it was before.

“You’re a metamorphmagus,” Lyra pointed out.

Her hair turned a lighter shade of pink, “Yeah.”

“That’s pretty cool,” Lyra said. “Would be a useful skill for an Auror.”

She wondered if that was why her cousin was in her classroom, it was an essential subject to become an auror. She shrugged off the thought and stepped forward to address the class.

“You’ve probably heard the speech a million times by now,” Lyra began. “This is your final year of Hogwarts and you will be tested at the end of the year. The results of your NEWTs will play a huge determining factor in the career you wish to choose. I also have no doubt that the teaching of this subject has been rather inconsistent so I’d like for you all to partake in a quick test to see where your learning is at.”

It took about 15 minutes and Lyra quickly flicked through the papers. She was shocked at the amount of information missing from their learning. “Seems like you’re all quite behind in the subject,” Lyra said. “No matter, I will get you up to date. First and most important question is have you observed the use of the unforgivable curses?” The students shook their heads. Lyra sighed, she didn’t want to have to do this but she knew it was necessary. “You’d usually learn and see the spells in your sixth year, can anyone name them?”

“The Imperius Curse,” an unfamiliar student called out.

“5 points to Ravenclaw,” she said. She summoned a rat that was in her office. She pointed her wand at it, non-verbally casting the spell. She didn’t want the students to know of the incantations. She made the rat run in circles jumping every so often.

“Under the effects of this curse you are subject to the caster’s bidding,” Lyra explained, continuing to control the mouse making it attempt to do star jumps on its hind legs, “This curse may be used in your NEWT exam though it is more likely to be tested on if you would like to become an auror. It takes great self-control to resist the Imperius curse and even great wizards who are trained to resist it can still be affected if caught off-guard. The next one?”

“The Cruciatus Curse,” Tonks said.

“5 points to Hufflepuff,” Lyra said. She cast it on the rat it starting squeaking noisily. She did not enjoy doing this to an innocent mouse and as a result the spell’s effectiveness waned. “This was my mother’s choice of weapon, in fact, she taught me how to use it. It is why she’s in Azkaban right now. The use of it on another human being results in a lifelong sentence in Azkaban. It causes immense pain to the victim as you just saw. Finally?”

“The Killing Curse,” Charlie said, “Please don’t kill it.”

A flash of green light and the rat was dead. “5 points to Gryffindor,” she said. “Don’t stress too much Charlie, it was an old rat, he lived a good life but yes the killing curse. An instantaneous and painless death to the victim, it is unblockable and uncounterable.”

“But that Harry Potter child survived,” a student piped up.

“Yes,” Lyra said. She knew of the downfall of the Dark Lord all too well. “We don’t know why or how though so I wouldn’t take any chances against it. When was it legal to use these curses?”

“Aurors were allowed to against You-Know-Who and his followers,” Tonks said.

“Correct, 5 points to Hufflepuff,” Lyra said.

Lyra continued her lecture on the Unforgiveable Curses and soon enough the class had come to its end. She assigned them homework to prepare for the next lesson and they all trailed out except for her pink-haired cousin.

“Tonks,” Lyra said, “What can I do for you?”

“I just wanted to tell you that I’m planning on becoming an auror,” Tonks replied.

A happy smile grew across Lyra’s face, “Really? That’s great, I’ll be sure to teach you as much as I can.”

“Thanks,” her cousin said with an equally big smile.

“If you need anything don’t hesitate to let me know,” Lyra said, “I know we’re not close but you’re still my cousin and I’m here for you.”

Tonks’ smile began to fade, her hair turning into a bluer hue. Lyra looked questionably at her as Tonks gathered the nerve to tell her what she had really wanting to tell her. “Before we started, a lot of students in my year were questioning whether it was ok for you to be teaching because of what happened when you were here.”

Lyra sighed, “I assure you Tonks that I’m not like that anymore. You should tell them to trust Professor Dumbledore’s decision.”

“You’re right,” Tonks said as she turned to leave.

“Tonks,” she called out after her, “I haven’t used the Dark Arts since I left, even using those curses was difficult for me. Trust me, I do regret what happened, that’s why I became a healer.”

Tonks nodded before dismissing herself. Lyra was unconvinced that she had managed to sway Tonks’ opinion on what occurred during her schooling years but did not allow herself to dwell on it for too long. Instead she found herself going through the exams she had set for the fifth and seventh years that they had completed in class and began to assess what needed to be covered in order to make sure her students would be prepared. She worked all through her lunch break she snacked upon the cupcakes that her Aunt sent her rather than grabbing something from the staff room. From the taste along Lyra could tell that her Aunt Narcissa had actually made it herself instead of telling the house elves to do it. She set aside some time prior to her class resuming to write a letter of thanks to her family.

Aunty,

Thank you for the cupcakes, they tasted delicious. Everything is going well so far. I’ll keep in touch.

Lyra x

Dearest Draco,

Thank you for the cupcakes and letter, it brightened my day. I hope you continue to write to me as I also miss you, Draco.

I’m sorry to hear about your toy. If your dad doesn’t buy you one then let me know and I’ll get you something special for Christmas.

I am enjoying my time at Hogwarts and I have befriended most of the teachers.

If all goes according to plan I will be home for Christmas.

I love you. Be good to your parents.

Hugs and kisses from your cousin Lyra x

She sat the messages aside, intending to send them prior to dinner which arrived much sooner than she expected. Lyra felt as though the day progressed significantly faster than her days at St. Mungo’s, possibly because she would usually get stuck doing paperwork but this teaching position allowed a lot of time for interaction with other people which she preferred. Lyra walked to the Owlery and found her Snowy Owl, Silver waiting for her.

“Back to the Manor,” she said as she attached the letters to Silver’s leg and fluffed it’s feathers before it took its flight.

#fanfiction #snape x oc #fanfic #imagine #hogwarts #im a dumbass and skipped this chapter when posting #Remedy For Guilt #lyra lestrange #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fandom #severus snape #oc x severus snape #severus snape imagine #original character #oc x snape #snape #RFG

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