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eiightysixbaby · 5 months

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i’ll be home for christmas

PART THREE: No Place Like Home For The Holidays

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pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 7.3k

summary: eddie arrives back home, battling with the things that have changed in his absence. you have a heartfelt conversation with jonathan, and try your best to get out of your funk. the annual christmas eve party rolls around again, and it’s going to change everything.

cw: switches between past and present, reader’s nickname is ‘sunny’, angst, jonathan being the best bff in the world.

December 25th, 1988.

The airport was shockingly empty, most folks at home with their loved ones in celebration of the holiday. Eddie’s eyes scanned the building as he walked, rolling his small suitcase full of his belongings behind him. His free hand clutching his guitar case as he walks along. He’d packed everything he could over the last few days, though he truthfully didn’t have all that much. Honestly, he was grateful for the light load. The mental burden he was carrying felt excruciating enough on its own.

It had been a teary goodbye with Wayne, Eddie promising to call and Wayne promising to come visit whenever he could afford to spend the money. Eddie assured him he’d be paying for his plane ticket whenever he wanted to come out, and not to worry.

The conversation he’d had with you the previous night wouldn’t leave his head, your tears as your voice screamed at him was a scene that played on a loop in his mind. Sleeping was no use; the second he’d gotten home he’d laid in bed and cried, every moment of the night spent tossing and turning and thinking about you. As hard as it was, though, he wanted you to be able to move forward and be fine without him. He hadn’t meant to hurt you so badly and he hoped that in time you’d see that, too.

He blinks a few times, forcing the sleep from his eyes as he sits on a cold plastic seat, waiting for his gate to board. His foot taps aimlessly on the shiny linoleum floor, his hands wrung together between his knees as he sits hunched over in thought. The clicking of heels takes him out of his daze, his head glancing upwards to catch the person that walks by. From behind, it looks just like you — the girl even has the same coat as you. His heart thumps in his chest as he cranes his neck to get a better look, his legs ready to stand and chase you down and hold you tight. But then, the figure turns around, and he catches sight of a face that isn’t yours. He slumps back onto the seat, exhaling a breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding in. Maybe this was all wrong. Maybe he shouldn’t do this. And then:

“Flight 157 to Chicago now boarding, please report to Gate 2A,” a voice comes over the loud speaker, sounding crisp and nearly robotic.

Eddie sighs, wiping his clammy palms on his jeans before he stands, turning and walking to his gate. He steps onto his flight, sinking in his seat and glancing out the window at the snow that covers the Indianapolis airport. The last glimpse he’ll get of Indiana for who knows how long.

He pulls out his Walkman, slipping the headphones over his ears and sinking into the music as the plane takes off. This is goodbye.

Present Day: December 21st, 1989.

The airport is bustling with people; strangers from god knows where coming to visit god knows who for the approaching holiday. Eddie weaves his way through the crowds, pushing his bags on a cart that serves as an easy way to part the seas of travelers. Doors are held open for him by a passer-by as he exits the building, pulling his hat down further over his ears as he braces for the cold chill of the Indiana air.

Stepping onto the concrete outside of the building, his eyes squint slightly as he scans the pickup lane for a familiar vehicle. He doesn’t spot one at first, standing on his tip-toes and peering around the heads of other people, trying to find who he’s looking for.

And then, he sees Wayne leaning out the driver side door of his truck. A hand is held high in the air, waving with a stoic smile on his face. Eddie runs. He doesn’t care if he looks silly, doesn’t care if he bumps someone on his way, he runs to Wayne. His bags sit a few feet away on their cart, but he’ll grab them in a moment. Right now, his arms pull his uncle into a tight hug, his body easing up when he feels Wayne patting him on the back.

“Missed you, son,” Wayne says, pulling back to look at Eddie with the vaguest hint of tears in his eyes.

“Missed you too. Don’t go crying on me now, old man,” he says, laughing when Wayne tugs his hat off to ruffle his already-fluffy hair.

“Go get your bags, let’s go on home.”

Home. Eddie loves the sound of that.

•

“I feel like I’m broken, Jonathan,” you stress, setting your coffee down on the table. “Everywhere I go, everything I do, my mind is just like… laser-focused on Eddie. It’s pathetic,” you shake your head, curling your lips inward.

“Hey, stop. It’s not pathetic,” he reassures, reaching out a hand to cover one of yours. “You just… miss him. It’s normal.”

“Nothing about this is normal,” you retort, sorry for snapping at him but unable to control the bubbling frustration. “I should be able to move on, it’s been a fucking year just about!” you say, raising your voice and grabbing attention of other patrons in the cafe. Your eyes avert Jonathan’s gaze, looking down at a stray thread from your sweater in embarrassment. “I saw a van that looked like his. A van! A vehicle — a common, average vehicle and it sent me into a spiral the other day. Something that stupid shouldn’t make me feel like I’m losing it.”

“Sunny, come on, you’re so hard on yourself,” he says, his honey eyes sympathetic as they try to break through to you.

“Why shouldn’t I be? I’m always such a downer, it has to get annoying to deal with. You’re always left to pick up my pieces.”

“Don’t say that, you’re not annoying,” he cuts in, brows furrowed.

“Oh come on, Jonathan. You can be honest with me,” you insist, turning away from him.

“I am being honest. Do you remember what I told you last Christmas? When you told us all that he’d left?”

Do you remember, he asks. As if you could ever forget.

December 25th, 1988.

To be honest, you were surprised you’d even managed to get yourself to Steve’s house. You drove here on autopilot, a robot operating your vehicle instead of a person — navigating the snowy streets with ease only because you know this town like the back of your hand. You sit in your car in the driveway for what feels like a century, trying to steady your breathing. You had wanted to prepare yourself — to have a plan when you walked in and to break the news calmly to everybody. Though now you’re realizing that may not be possible, with the way you feel like you can’t even speak at all. Your chest is tight, your breathing erratic as you finally walk up to the large front doors, pushing one open without so much as knocking.

The conversation inside lulls, everyone excitedly looking to see who’s arrived. You’ve never seen a group of faces change expressions so quickly, Nancy hopping up off of the sofa to run to you. In a split second, you’ve drained all of the holiday cheer from the room. Tears run down your face like they had been all night, your body slumping into Nancy’s when she collects you in her arms.

“Hey, hey, what’s going on? What happened!?” she asks, trying to stay calm for your sake but concern creeps into her voice anyways. You can’t blame her, you know you look a wreck.

No one else dared move further than simply standing from their seats, not wanting to crowd you. It’s like everyone knew a bomb was about to drop.

“I-it’s, it’s E-Eddie,” you sob, having at least enough mental clarity to realize you need to finish that sentence before they think he died on the way here. “Eddie left… h-he left Hawkins, he f-ucking left,” you choke, your voice raw as you get the words out. You’re bawling into Nancy’s sweater, tears and snot surely soaking the wool as she holds you impossibly tighter.

“What?” Steve asks, “What… what do you mean?”

“He’s going to Chicago, he’s… not c-coming back,” you cry, heaving between words as you try to fill your lungs with air.

The whole room freezes, everyone looking at each other with no idea what to do. As sad as they all may be, each and every person realizes how much worse this is for you. And you know it. They all know what you had with Eddie was special. Was.

You look up at them, watery eyes scanning the room and taking in their mutual devastation. Dustin sits back down on the couch, his head in his hands as he absorbs the information. His role model, the big brother he never had, gone.

And then you look at Steve, watching the way he starts to pace the floor. His closest male friend since Tommy, left for another state. Another person leaving his life.

Your eyes scan over the rest of the kids, over Robin, Jonathan, then circling back to Nancy. Their upset makes it worse for you, and your stomach twists in knots over the fact that you had to be the one to tell them this news. You, in the midst of your anguish, had to break it to all of them. Too caught up in your own feelings to break the news gracefully, it makes you want to vomit.

That’s when you’d pulled yourself away from Nancy, out of her gentle grasp, and hurried down the hallway to one of Steve’s bathrooms. You heard the concerned calls of your name as you shut the door behind you but it didn’t matter, you couldn’t take watching everyone process the information. You brace your hands on the vanity counter, fingers gripping the marble as you look at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes and lips look puffy, snot drips from your nose — it makes you feel pathetic. You watch as your whole body shudders when you inhale, trying so hard to calm yourself down, at least so you can go back out there and actually talk to your friends without heaving on the floor.

A knock on the door makes you wince.

“I’m fine,” you croak. “Just give me a minute.”

“It’s Jonathan,” his soft voice says from the other side. “Can I please come in?”

You weren’t expecting him to come chasing after you, out of all of them. It’s not unwelcome, just unexpected. Your fingers wrap around the doorknob, twisting it and pulling the door open a crack. Jonathan slips inside, his slender body fitting right through the narrow opening you’d provided.

“I’m sorry,” you start. “I know I need to explain everything more and—”

“Don’t. That’s not what I’m here for. No one’s rushing you out, it’s okay,” he soothes you, his voice as gentle as always.

For some reason, his comfort only makes you cry harder, and he immediately accepts your form with open arms. You don’t typically get this close to Jonathan, he’s shy and introverted and you can confidently say you’ve never shared a moment this raw with him. His chin rests atop your head, holding you against his chest as you tremble.

“It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay, Sunny.”

“How do you know that?” you sniffle, mouth gummy as you talk.

“Because we’re all here for each other. We’re all here for you. I know you and Eddie were… close,” he says, debating on his last word before speaking it softly.

“He kissed me,” you say — blurting it, really.

“What?”

“Like a week ago. He kissed me. And now he’s gone.”

Jonathan doesn’t say anything, but it’s okay with you. You don’t know what he could say that would make any of it better. ‘I’m sorry’? You don’t want to hear that. The kiss with Eddie was the best kiss you’ve ever had. I’m sorry would just make the grief of him being gone feel more real. He just holds you a little bit tighter, sighing into your hair.

“If you could… keep that between us, for now…” you say, realizing you don’t think you can handle questions from the group about that just yet.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

It’s silent for a few moments after that, neither of you saying a thing. But then he speaks up again.

“Listen,” he says, pulling away from you slightly, his hands gripping your shoulders as he looks at you. “I’m here for you, if you need anything. You can vent, scream, cry… it doesn’t matter. I wasn’t as close with Eddie as you were, or as Dustin was, or Robin… the point is, I’ll be okay through this. I’ll miss him, of course, but I’ll be okay. It’s you I’m worried about,” he pours all of this out at once, his eyes flicking back and forth between each of yours, studying your face. “I just want you to know you can tell me anything, always. I promise.”

Your lip wobbles, your eyes glassy as they stare back at him. You realize, then, just how much Jonathan observes. He might be quieter, more reserved, but he notices everything. His tone of voice tells you he knows more than he might share out loud.

“Thank you,” you say, impossibly quiet. “Thank you doesn’t even begin to cover it, but…”

“No, you don’t even need to thank me. I just want you to promise me that you won’t hide away and bottle this all up.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

Present Day: December 21st, 1989.

You kept that promise, confiding in him when the weight of it all felt too heavy to hold. He kept his word, listening every single time you needed him to. You’re suddenly upset with yourself for even doubting his honesty, his willingness to support you.

“Of course I remember. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound rude,” you sigh. You pitch your voice deeper, then, mocking him. “Don’t apologize, Sunny, you never need to apologize,” you tease, knowing exactly what he’ll say before it can come out of his mouth.

“Wow, am I that predictable?” he laughs, raising an eyebrow at you.

You just nod, laughing a little bit with him.

“You know, you’re still the only person I’ve ever told about the kiss.”

“I know. I definitely would’ve heard about it from one of the girls if word had gotten around,” he says, smirking.

There’s a pause. The humor of the moment is gone.

“What’s on your mind?” he asks, sensing the shift.

“I just… it’s getting closer and closer to the day he left. And I don’t know how I can handle knowing it’s been one full year. I just want things to be easy again,” you sigh, chewing on your bottom lip. You don’t want to meet Jonathan’s eyes, feeling like you’ll cry if you see the sincerity you know will be there.

“I know it’s hard. And I know Christmas isn’t going to be easy for you this year. But just… take it a day at a time. A minute at a time, even,” he says, calm and steady as always. “Even though this year has been hard for you, you’ve gotten through it. You’ve made it through every single hard day. You can get through the holiday, I promise,” he gives you a gentle smile, the creases at the corner of his eyes showing how genuine it is.

His words bring the tears you had tried to warn off to your eyes, sending a couple droplets running down your cheeks.

“Are you sure I can do this?” you ask. “Will it get better?”

“I know you can do this. And I think it will.”

You stand, your chair squeaking against the floor as it pushes out. He stands with you, knowing what you’re going for without words. He pulls you into a tight hug when you round the table to his side, his hands rubbing your back in a way that soothes you.

“Thank you for everything, Jon,” you sniffle, your face smushed against the thick knit fabric of his sweater.

“Of course. ‘S what I’m here for,” he says, resting his chin on your head before placing the softest, most chaste kiss to the top of it.

It’s nothing but platonic. Simply a comforting gesture, you’d never question otherwise. You pull away after a moment of letting him hold you, the strange feeling that someone had been watching you creeping up your spine.

•

Pulling in to Forest Hills Trailer Park had simultaneously made Eddie’s heart sing, and made him feel like he was going to vomit. He was excited, so excited to be out of Chicago, but he’d be lying if simply leaving that city eliminated all of his worries. There’s a lot of… baggage in Hawkins. He left for a reason. It’s scary and inviting and anxiety-inducing and wonderful all wrapped into one package.

Wayne helps him unload his stuff, and Eddie nearly cries when he steps into the trailer again. The bedroom is all made up for him, his old posters and flags still hung on the walls. Like Wayne always knew he wasn’t truly gone for good, or maybe he just didn’t want to fully let him go. A knock comes on the open door, making Eddie turn from his spot on the floor where he unpacks his suitcase.

Wayne stands in the doorway, holding Eddie’s Garfield mug — his favorite — in his hands.

“Made you some coffee, figured you might need it,” he says, and Eddie accepts the warm mug gladly.

He looks at the paint on it, Garfield’s nose chipping away a bit, and there’s a crack on one side, but it’s Eddie’s. It’s home.

Unpacking doesn’t last long, he gets through one suitcase of clothes before deciding everything else can wait. His dresser drawers are packed full once more, having been largely empty save for some of Wayne’s things. Sitting cross-legged on his floor, he takes a moment to just absorb every detail of his room. His Slayer flag, that he’d left here in favor of taking his Corroded Coffin one with him. His spare amps, his old sketchbooks and a box of D&D dice. The stupid handcuffs he’d stolen as a teen, and then had a few good nights with. Chuckling to himself, he stands. His heart longs to see more of Hawkins, to see what’s changed since he left, if anything at all. He puts on his coat and a hat, grabbing the keys to his van that he surprisingly missed way more than he had thought he would.

“I’m going in to town, just want to walk around a little bit. Take everything in. You wanna come?” he asks his uncle, slipping his shoes on in the doorway.

“Nah. Go on by yourself. I’m sure you could use the time to get readjusted.”

Eddie nods, giving Wayne a soft smile and receiving a softer one in return. He tosses his keys in the air once, catching them with a metallic clank before he’s out the door. Wayne had taken great care of the van, as good of care as you can take to a shitbox vehicle, and as Eddie slips into the tattered driver’s seat he lets out a sigh. His hands run over the steering wheel, putting the key in the ignition and letting the engine roar to life.

He missed this. He truly missed this.

It’s funny how you can be away from a place for so long, yet still remember every detail like it’s engraved in your brain. Sure, a year isn’t that long in retrospect, but still. The way Eddie drives the streets of the small town with complete ease, never second guessing a turn and knowing where each stop sign is makes him smile a little bit. He drives past your apartment complex, taking in a deep and shaky breath as he glances in its direction. The realization hits him that he has to face you, face everyone, for the first time in a year. He doesn’t know how he’s gonna do it, but he’ll figure it out.

For now, he pulls his van into a parking spot beside the curb in the center of town, stepping out and waiting for that signature creak of the van’s door as it opens, which doesn’t come. Dammit, Wayne. Keeping her in good condition.

To be honest, Eddie knows he’s taking a bit of a risk walking through town. He could run into you, he could run into one of the kids, or Steve or Robin or anyone. He could be spotted by Mrs. Wheeler or Hopper. All of whom would spread word that he’s back in town. He’s flying by the seat of his pants here, so to speak. If he runs into someone he knows, he’ll figure it out. If he runs into you, well… he’ll probably shit himself. But he’ll cross that bridge when he gets there.

The streets and shops of downtown Hawkins are perfectly decorated for the holiday, a sight he knows you always loved to see. He hopes it still makes you happy, to see the town wrapped in red and green and silver and gold. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he walks the snowy sidewalks, a cleanly shoveled path guiding his way. It’s snowing lightly, a few flakes clinging to his hair and melting on his coat. It’s so unlike the hustle and bustle of Chicago, and while those busy streets were exciting for maybe a week, he grew weary of them after that. There’s less of a sense of security in a city that large, whereas Hawkins’ small population and quaint streets feel stable and safe. Maybe he took that for granted, maybe he thought he was more unstable here than he really was.

He passes Melvald’s, peeking inside and sure enough catches Joyce Byers passing off a large paper bag of goods to a customer. He keeps on walking, smiling to himself nonetheless over seeing a familiar face. He passes RadioShack, The Hideaway, the record shop. All places he has memories tied to, and they come rushing to him in a flood of varying emotions. Nervous butterflies flutter in the pit of his stomach, his whole body adjusting to being back home as he walks.

The coffee shop is up ahead, he can see the sign dangling above the door. He turns to glance in through the windows as he approaches, but he does a double take at what he sees. Stopping dead in his tracks, his shoes scrape against the pavement. It feels like the wind’s been knocked out of him, every ounce of oxygen punched from his lungs. He swears his head is spinning, or maybe the world is spinning. Every single moment of heartache and yearning over the last year has led him here, back to Hawkins. And now, for the first time in months, he’s finally looking at you.

His mouth hangs open slightly, tunnel vision directing him right to you, where you stand approaching Jonathan. He’s undetected, neither you nor the other man have noticed him. The first thing he notices is that you’re crying, he can see the puffiness of your face and the way its features contort. It reminds him all too much of the way you looked the night he left you. A twinge of pain prods deep in his gut; seeing you cry has always been one of his least favorite things. He watches as Jonathan pulls you into a tight hug, rubbing your back and squeezing you so close to him.

That’s weird, he doesn’t remember you ever being so close with Jonathan. He usually just kept to himself, for the most part.

And then, something happens that makes his heart plummet to the pit of his stomach. Words he can’t hear are exchanged between the two of you, and then Jonathan’s face tilts down, and a kiss is pressed to the top of your head.

He just kissed you. What the fuck. This can’t be happening.

Eddie knows he’s been gone a while, but he certainly hasn’t been gone long enough to forget the different dynamics in the friend group. He’d certainly remember if Jonathan kissed you frequently a year ago.

Are you…. with Jonathan?

Nausea creeps up his throat as he stands there, alone in the cold. He watches his own breath leave his mouth in icy puffs as he stands there gawking. You and Jonathan begin to pull out of the hug, and he kickstarts himself to move the fuck away before you both catch him staring like an absolute buffoon.

It all makes sense, he thinks to himself as he staggers away. It all makes fucking sense.

Of course you’d distanced yourself. Of course you wouldn’t want to talk to him on the phone if you were dating Jonathan. Of course the general topic of you was awkward for your other friends to talk about, because they didn’t want to tell him what was going on! Heading quickly back in the direction of his van, he feels blindsided, his mouth gone dry. He really thinks the contents of his stomach might see the light of day once more as his mind races with thoughts. You don’t want him anymore, you don’t need him anymore, you have Jonathan. And he can’t even be mad, because he wanted you to do better than him. He wanted you to find someone else.

If he could kick his own ass, one year ago, he would.

The urge to cry overwhelms him, but the tears won’t come. It’s like he can’t think straight, too many thoughts yet no thoughts all at once. How can he face you — admit his feelings to you and tell you that he doesn’t think he’s stopped yearning for you for even a single moment of the last year — when you’re with Jonathan? He can’t. That’s not right, and it’s not fair. It makes him sick to think about.

He doesn’t take the time to admire the Christmas decorations anymore, doesn’t take note of the shops he passes that he hasn’t seen in a year. He just hurries to his vehicle, and starts driving towards the only place he can think to go right now.

•

Knuckles rap impatiently on Steve’s door, bone against the wood over and over. Eddie’s not in any mood to wait, needing to know when and why and how this all happened. Why no one bothered to tell him you started dating a mutual friend. This isn’t exactly the way he wanted to announce his arrival back in Hawkins, but oh well. He didn’t make a great departure, who cares if his return sucks too?

He can hear shuffling from inside the house, Robin’s voice coming closer to the door.

“I’m getting it, Steve, holy shit!” she calls, the door knob twisting and the whole thing pulling open.

Eddie stands there, watching her face as she processes the fact that it’s him in front of her right now. He really missed her face.

“Oh my god,” she says, standing there blinking at him like she can’t believe what she’s seeing. “Eddie!? EDDIE!” she yells, her eyes going impossibly wide. “Guys, Eddie’s here!” she screams into the house, eager, before attacking him in a bear hug.

The voices of Steve and Nancy shout “What?” in perfect unison, before their figures appear in the doorway.

“Eddie?” Nancy says, laughing in disbelief as she does, followed by Steve’s half-confused half-amused “Dude!?”

He doesn’t even get the chance to say anything before Nancy’s surprisingly strong grip is yanking him from Robin, her tiny frame squeezing him as tight as she can. Eddie’s heart swells, tears finally threatening to spill from his eyes. The pure happiness of seeing his friends again overwhelms him, but it rivals the sick feeling that resides in his stomach after seeing you with Jonathan. It’s a strange juxtaposition of feelings, and he feels like he might crack.

Steve yanks him away soon after, giving him a firm, welcoming hug and a pat on the back. “I fucking missed you, man.”

Eddie gives him a soft smile as he’s ushered into the large house, Robin’s mouth moving a mile a minute.

“Okay, so what the fuck is happening right now? Are you back for good? When did you get here? Does anyone else even know you’re here?” she bombards him with questions, her arms flailing as she talks.

“Rob, Jesus, slow down,” Eddie says, and he can’t help but laugh lightly. “Yeah, I uh, I think I’m back for good,” he says, letting the information sink in. “Wayne knows I’m here, but that’s it other than you guys.”

Everyone stares at him, sensing the feeling that something’s not quite right. It must be radiating off of him.

“Okay, so… what’s wrong? You haven’t cracked one of your usual jokes and you’re like, mysteriously quiet,” Steve speaks up, and Nancy shifts awkwardly where she sits beside Robin.

Eddie takes a deep breath. He doesn’t know if he truly wants the information he’s about to receive. But not knowing doesn’t help him, either.

“Why didn’t you guys tell me Sunny started dating Jonathan?”

The room goes silent, varying expressions on his friends’ faces. Nancy’s eyebrows raise as she lets his words roll through her head, Robin turning to give her a confused look. Steve’s mouth opens and closes and opens once more.

“I’m sorry… what?” he asks, amusement tugging on the corner of his mouth. Nancy giggles a little, and Robin nudges her with her elbow.

“Sunny… and Jonathan. I literally just saw them at a coffee shop and he kissed her on the head so please don’t try to make me feel crazy—”

“Woah, Eddie, slow your roll there,” Robin butts in, holding up her hands. “Sunny and Jonathan aren’t dating. Or, if they are, it’s news to us, too.”

He blinks. The skin between his brows crinkles as he stands there, dumb and silent.

“But… then why did he, when did… why did he kiss her?”

“They’ve gotten really close, but just… platonically. It’s not anything else,” Nancy says, trying to reassure him with a soft smile.

When he doesn’t seem convinced, she keeps going. “Eddie. We wouldn’t lie to you. I mean, you’re back in Hawkins. What good would lying do? If they were together you’d be bound to find out eventually.”

He thinks about this, and then decides to pull his head out of his ass. He’s seeing his best friends for the first time in a year and instead of being thrilled he’s being difficult.

“No, you’re right, Wheeler. As always,” he smirks a little. “I really fucking missed you guys,” he adds, a lump forming in his throat as he smiles at them.

“We missed you so much, Eddie,” Nancy says, the other two echoing the sentiment.

“Not to ruin the moment…” Robin cuts in after a pause. “But, uh… how are you going to tell Sunny that you’re back?” she asks, hesitance clear in her tone.

“I, uh, I’m gonna be honest. I don’t really have a plan. I don’t know how much she even wants to see me.”

Three heads nod at the same time, sharing glances as they consider the subject at hand. “She really misses you, Eddie,” Nancy says, her eyes getting softer, sympathetic. “We aren’t the only ones who did.”

“She does?”

“Yeah… did you not know?”

“Okay, to be completely fucking fair right now, I love you guys but I haven’t been able to speak to her once since I’ve been gone,” he says, trying to defend himself even a little bit. “I haven’t heard one thing from her… I— I really didn’t know what to think.”

“It’s been hard,” Steve says, and the look in his eyes shows Eddie how true that statement is. “She’s been… kind of a wreck without you.”

This statement loads in his brain, his heart plummeting to the pit of his stomach.

“It’s been worse lately, I think with the holiday coming up it’s just reminding her of last year. She’s been like, a completely different person. We never wanted to tell you over the phone and worry you…” Robin adds, her bright eyes flitting nervously around the room.

Eddie nods, lips pressing in a flat line. “So, what do we do? How do we do this? I want to make this Christmas so, so much better for her than the last one.”

There’s a pause, before Nancy speaks. “I have an idea,” she says, nodding decisively. “We have to keep it a surprise.”

This year, Eddie isn’t going to fuck things up. This year, he’s going to get his girl.

Present Day: December 22nd, 1989.

The Wheeler home is immaculately decorated for Christmas. Faux-candles flicker in each of the windows, delicate white lights lining the roof. You watch as the perfect wreath on the front door slides out of view, replaced by the face of Mrs. Wheeler as she greets you.

“Please, come on in,” she welcomes you, offering to take your coat and your scarf. “The girls are in the kitchen already.”

You thank her, letting her leave to hang up your garments, slipping off your boots before you head straight back to your friends.

“Sunny!” Robin says cheerfully. Her hair is pulled back into a tiny ponytail, her hands already busy gathering ingredients for the cookie dough.

“Hi, guys,” you smile. “Sorry I’m a little late.”

“It’s no problem at all. Rob and I were just starting to get everything ready,” Nancy assures you, coming over to give you a quick hug.

You welcome it gladly, inhaling her sweet perfume as you lean in close. You were happy to be here, hoping that maybe it would help you feel a little bit lighter; give you some of that holiday cheer you’d been searching for. You were less optimistic on the front of it helping you not think about Eddie, but you could still hope. After your conversation with Jonathan the day before, you were trying to be a little more hopeful about everything. Key word trying.

“So, what kind of cookies are we making?” you ask, moving to wash your hands in the sink.

“We’re thinking classic sugar — obviously — peanut butter, and maybe those ones with the raspberry jam?” Robin says absentmindedly, eyeing a recipe as she pours cups of flour into a bowl.

“Raspberry? The only people who ever eat those are Steve and… Eddie,” you say, slowly turning off the tap.

“Oh, uh, yeah well. You know how much Steve likes them, we should be nice to him this year,” Robin rushes out, a nervous lilt hinting in her voice.

“Okay…” you say, catching the piercing look Nancy gives her girlfriend.

Unbeknownst to you, the girls, Steve, and Eddie had come up with a plan for Eddie’s grand entrance at the party on Christmas Eve. They weren’t going to tell you — or anyone else — that he was back home, wanting it to be a surprise. Mostly, they just didn’t trust anyone else not to spill the beans to you.

Robin and Nancy had previously talked about making the third kind of cookie for Steve and Eddie, but, well… Robin wasn’t supposed to tell you that. They were going to make them without you, so as not to make you suspicious. But, sometimes Robin’s brain works on autopilot. She looks as though she wants to grab the words out of thin air and stuff them back down her throat.

Thankfully for them, you don’t overthink it. You don’t really have a reason to. Choosing to move right along, you ask them what they need your help with so you’re not standing there aimlessly all afternoon. Nancy hands you a rolling pin to roll the dough out once Robin’s finished mixing it, and you get right down to it.

The three of you make quick work of the whole process, you rolling out the dough and Nancy cutting shapes into it as Robin mixes up the icing. The longer you’re there, though, the more the energy starts to feel… off.

They keep looking at you weirdly, for starters. Staring at you a little too long, looking like they want to tell you something but they never do. It’s nothing you can’t brush off, but it just feels different in a way you can’t explain.

You’re all singing along to Christmas music, laughing and dancing around the kitchen when the phone rings.

Nancy pulls the phone off of the wall, cradling it between her shoulder and her ear as she attempts to continue icing a few cookies. “Hello?” she asks into the receiver.

Her eyes go wide, then, her casual demeanor slipping away as she fumbles to hold the phone fully with one hand, backing closer to the wall.

“Uh, hi. I’m with Robin and Sunny right now. This isn’t really a good time,” she says, stressing the last part a little too hard and making you look over in her direction.

“Who is it?” you ask.

“It’s, um, it’s just Steve.”

“Oh! Can I talk to him for a second? I have something I’ve been meaning to ask him,” you say, walking over to her.

She hesitates for a moment before slamming the phone back on the hook without a word, pressing her lips into a thin line. “He had to… go. Sorry,” she says, furrowing her brows. Robin looks up at her with an arched brow, and you’re simply stood there with your mouth slightly open, utterly confused.

Nancy forces a tight-lipped smile on her face, feigning coolness, as she walks back to the counter to continue decorating the cookies.

“Okay. What is going on?” you break the silence. They’re acting strange. Like, really fucking strange.

“What?” they both ask in unison, only heightening your suspicions.

“You guys are acting so weird. And why did you just hang up on Steve like that?”

“I…. it… it wasn’t Steve. It was Eddie that called,” Nancy admits, and you don’t miss the way Robin shoots her daggers. “I’m sorry, Sunny. I just didn’t want you to start thinking about him. I want this day to be fun for you!” she covers, skirting around the fact that Eddie is very much in Hawkins and was calling about something regarding the party.

“Oh…” you say, thinking this over. “It’s okay, Nance. I can handle the truth,” you continue, not angrily.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lied, it was silly of me,” she admits, shaking her head a little. You can sense Robin’s posture relaxing beside you. She’s still being a little weird….

You don’t want to press the issue, simply telling Nancy it’s fine and continuing on with your work. It does make you think about Eddie, but then again, when aren’t you thinking about him? Nothing has truly relieved you of the weight of his loss, and it’s certainly not Nancy’s fault that he called at a bad time.

The cookies are completed within the next few hours, the girls behaving much more calmly than they were before and during the phone call. You’re tired by the time all of the sugary treats have been put aside in tins, and you’re more than ready to go home and sink into your warm bed. Tugging your coat back on, you prepare yourself to face the cold.

“Thank you guys so much for inviting me over, I had a lot of fun today,” you smile, making them return the expression. “Honestly, it’s the first day in a while where I’ve felt kind of… normal.”

Nancy squeezes you in a hug, rubbing your back with gentle hands. “I’m so glad to hear it. We’ll see you at the Christmas party, then?” she asks as she pulls away.

“Yeah, I’ll see you guys then. Steve better eat all of those damn raspberry cookies, since we made a huge batch just for him,” you joke, and Robin laughs a little too hard before Nancy elbows her in the side.

You pause in the middle of tugging on your second boot, glancing at them with piqued interest. You guess they’re both just weird today.

Present Day: Christmas Eve, 1989.

Fluffy white flakes fall down around you, landing on the fuzzy surface of your black coat as you step out of your car. Popping open your trunk, you start gathering the presents you’d brought for everyone. Steve’s front door opens, light from the inside of his home illuminating the darkening driveway as he steps out, jogging down to you.

“Hey, let me give you a hand,” he offers, squeezing your shoulder.

“Okay, thanks,” you smile, your cheeks and nose already chilled from the cold weather.

“You excited? You always love my Christmas Eve parties,” he waggles his eyebrows at you, making you laugh a little. Easing the ache in your chest.

“Of course I am,” you assure him, even if you don’t know if you really mean it.

Between the two of you, you’re able to carry all of the presents inside — a blur of red and green and gold, pretty bows and shiny wrapping paper, stumbling through the front door. Everyone has already arrived, except for Robin and Nancy. You’re sure they’re scrambling to get all of the cookies in the car along with their gifts.

Max helps you lay the presents around Steve’s tree, a tall and sparkly thing that makes the living room feel more warm. You can feel yourself defrosting, the ice caging in your heart melting slowly as you try to soak in the Christmas spirit. After another minute the girls burst through the door, Nancy carrying two tins of cookies with gift bags hanging from her arms. Robin follows closely behind, carrying the third tin of baked goods and as many presents as she could stack on top of each other.

Steve’s hurrying over to them in an instant, scolding Robin for not asking for his help. He eases their load, bringing the cookies into the kitchen where you offer to plate some of them. Jonathan’s mixing up a spiked eggnog, passing you a shot glass half-full to give it a taste test. The hustle and bustle feels good today, or at least as good as it can.

Everyone’s starting to settle in, chatting amongst one another with a type of giddiness that only comes this time of year. You see the snow still falling outside from the large windows, thankful to be warm by the fire.

You’re about to pour yourself a drink when there’s a knock on the door, stopping everyone in the middle of their conversations.

“Sunny, can you get that?” Steve asks you nonchalantly, laying out a spread of mini-sandwiches on the kitchen island.

“Who else are we expecting?” you ask, looking around you at your friends.

“Can you just grab it, please?” Steve tries again, making himself look as distracted as possible.

“Okay, okay, I’m going! Jesus,” you mutter the last part to yourself, crossing your cardigan over your chest as you hurry towards the door.

Who it could possibly be, you have no idea. The usual group was here. Maybe a parent, dropping by to say hello? You pull the door open, a rush of frigid air whooshing past you. You aren’t sure who you were expecting to see, but you know who you weren’t. The person on the other side of it stops you dead in your tracks, your heart honest to god stopping for a moment. You stand there, staring at each other in heavy silence for what feels like a century before you finally speak.

“Eddie?”

taglist: @hellfirenacht @writethrough @littledemondani @prettyboyeddiemunson @trashmouth-richie @succubusmunson @likedovesinthewnd @tlclick73 @mrsjellymunson @idkitsem @svbrbnlegends @eddiesxangel @munsonzgf @hereforshmut @eggo-segual @joannamuns9n @lavendermunson @leenameh @micheledawn1975 (closed)

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #i’ll be home for christmas

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 8 months

Note

AITA for ignoring my bf’s concerns and booking a plane ticket anyways??

My bf (19m) and I (20ftm) are in a long distance relationship and we wanted to meet in person again since this is last chance before I won’t be able to do shit for half a year (recovering from surgery).

Anyways we’re both young and come from low middle class families so neither of us has a lot of money. Which is where his concern was… He feels guilty that I’m spending a lot of money (I didn’t tell him price but it’s just below 900 USD) just so I can see him. I told him don’t worry about the price and I can afford it but he still felt guilty.

That was his only complaint/concern about visiting and we both want to see each other and I know that regardless of the price or timing he’d say that since he doesn’t think he’s worth it. But he IS worth it so I booked the flight and hotels and told him. He was excited but I could hear the guilt in his voice.

He is worth it to me though. I love him.

Can you tag “travel” so I can find pls?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #travel

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fluentmoviequoter · 5 months

Note

Imagine: being in a long distance relationship with deacon and you surprise him at home. He doesn’t know it and is still at the HQ. Hondo knows about your surprise and sends him home with a knowing smile after the shift. When Deacon comes home he finds you sleeping in his bed

Oh my gosh, this is adorable. I'm not totally sure if you wanted a fic or not, but I wrote one! I hope you like it and please let me know what you think!

Warnings: fluff!

Word Count: 1.3k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

Long Distance to the Future

Since you left Los Angeles to take a new job across the country, you’ve stayed committed to Deacon and he to you. The job is supposed to be temporary, only it is indefinitely temporary. It’s been nearly three years since you started dating Deacon, but it will be your first anniversary away from him. It would be a lie to say long distance is easy, but it’s worth it. You haven’t used a single vacation day since you started, so you’re checking the price of flights to LAX, hoping you can afford to surprise Deacon for your anniversary. The first few months of long-distance were surprisingly easy since you were getting settled and forming a new routine, but now that things are settled, you miss Deacon more than anything. The screen finally loads, and you cheer in your quiet bedroom when the low price appears. You quickly book your ticket, prepared to see Deacon in person again. You text Hondo and ask him to call when he has time, hoping to get his help in the surprise.

Your phone rings less than a minute later, and you answer before the second ring. “Hello?” you greet, expecting Hondo.

“I have big news!” your boss cheers. “You got the promotion; if you want it, its yours!”

“Are you serious?” you ask, experiencing the second miracle in less than ten minutes. “This is such an honour, I don’t know what to say.”

“Think it over for a day or two then let me know, okay? Congratulations, you deserve it!”

“Thank you! I- can I sign the contract while I’m on my trip?”

“Oh, I forgot you’re off this week. Yes, we can do it online or we can just get a written acceptance and handle the paperwork when you get back. I’ll let you get back to your vacation, but I couldn’t wait to tell you. Have a great time and talk soon.”

The call ends, and you lay back on your bed, kicking your feet up in excitement. Your phone rings again, and you see Hondo’s name, smiling as the pieces of your plan begin falling into place.

✯✯✯✯✯

The landing in LA is a little bumpy, but nothing can take the smile off your face. You practically skip through the airport, energized by your countdowns until you are back in the same time zone, state, county, and now, city as your boyfriend. Hondo is leaning against his car, smiling, when you walk out.

“Thank you so much,” you tell him, hugging him before he takes your bag to put in the trunk.

“I should be thanking you. He misses you,” Hondo replies as he opens your door.

“I missed him, too.”

“When do you leave?”

You let the question hang, waiting until Hondo is in the driver’s seat with the door closed to answer, “About that.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Hondo drops you off at Deacon’s house, giving you his spare key to get inside before Deacon returns from work. Waving at Hondo, you go inside and lock the door behind you. You leave all of the lights off and hide your shoes and bags in Deacon’s closet so there is no evidence of you visible when he walks in. Checking your watch, you see that Deacon should be home in about an hour, so you order his favorite food for dinner and wait in the kitchen, away from the windows (in case he gets home early), for the delivery. Once the food is dropped off, you hide the containers in the microwave and throw away the bag before walking to Deacon’s bedroom to wait. The adrenaline is wearing off, and you’re getting tired, even though you know Deacon should be home soon. Sitting on the edge of his bed, you wipe your eyes before realizing how tired you are. You yawn once and fail to find the motivation to get back up.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Alright, Deac, head out and get some rest,” Hondo says. “The rest of us got behind on our paperwork.”

“Okay,” Deacon says, his brows furrowed as he walks by. “Have a good night, guys. Don’t work too hard.”

He walks out to his car, a little suspicious as to why Hondo seemed so eager to send him home, but he’s tired and misses you, so he’s okay with a quiet night at his house.

Parking in his driveway, Deacon sighs before exiting the car and going inside. He puts his backpack in the front closet and then walks toward his bedroom, ignoring the kitchen and planning to order food later. When he walks into his bedroom, he freezes, part of his mind telling him to get a weapon while the other works on recognizing who is sleeping on his bed.

He whispers your name and smiles when you move your arm, exposing your face. He sits on the edge of the bed beside you and lays a hand on your back, leaning down to kiss your temple. You stir slightly under his touch, unconsciously moving closer to him.

Running his fingers over your hairline and down your jawline, Deacon keeps his attention on you, questions to ask when you wake up flooding his mind.

You stir again and crack your eyes open. When you see Deacon, you sit up slightly and blink before asking, “Deacon?”

He nods, slipping his arm around your waist to help you sit up. You lean against him and look up into his eyes. You missed his eyes.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep, I was trying to surprise you and didn’t realize how tired I was, I guess,” you apologize, pinching Deacon's shirt collar between your fingers.

He takes your chin between his forefinger and thumb, looking into your eyes as he speaks. “Don’t apologize. I’m so happy to see you. Why am I seeing you?”

You laugh at his question, leaning against him as he twists you so your legs are draped across his lap as he leans against his headboard.

“I had a bunch of vacation days built up and.. I really wanted to see you. I missed you so much and our anniversary is coming up,” you explain.

“I didn’t want to be alone,” you and Deacon say together.

“Well, it’s an excellent surprise. You didn’t leave any evidence you were here. Although, how did you get in?”

“Hondo let me use his key.”

“Hondo. Of course. That’s why he wanted me to go straight home. Are you hungry?”

“I ordered food. It’s hidden in your kitchen,” you reply.

“You’re amazing.”

“I know. You’re pretty amazing, too.”

“This was an excellent surprise. Thank you,” Deacon says as he pulls you to your feet.

“There is one more thing,” you say, squeezing his hand.

“Okay,” Deacon says slowly.

“I got a promotion.”

Deacon’s eyes widen as he picks you up, twirling you around. You laugh, holding onto his shoulders. Your hands stay on his shoulders as he sets you back down.

“That’s amazing! Congratulations, you deserve it!”

“That’s not the good part.”

“What’s the good part? That seems pretty good.”

You lean up, close enough to kiss him, as you say, “It’s in Los Angeles.”

Deacon closes the small gap, kissing you like you’re his source of life. When you finally pull back, breathless and feeling whole with Deacon in your arms, you know you made the right decision to come home and take the job.

“Did you forget about the food?” you ask, laughing as Deacon kisses your cheek.

“We can reheat that. I had food earlier, I haven’t seen you in,” he looks at his watch to say, “11 months, 2 weeks, and 14 hours.”

“No minutes?” you ask.

“Just this one,” he replies, pulling you in just to push you backward onto the bed where he found you.

You laugh and cup his face in your hands. “I love you, Deacon Kay.”

“I love you,” Deacon says, his eyes glancing toward the top drawer of his nightstand, where a black velvet box is hidden. Future Mrs. Kay, he adds to himself.

#david deacon kay x reader #deacon kay x reader #david kay x reader #deacon kay fluff #david deacon kay #deacon kay #swat cbs #requests

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tuberchelsea · 1 year

Text

Come Out to LA

Pairing: Yoongi x f!reader

Summary: What was supposed to be a simple trip to LA to visit your childhood friend turns into a weekend of a life time

Genre: idol au, smut, fluff, strangers to lovers

CW: sexual content (grinding (we in da club), oral, fingering, exhibitionism (if you squint), dom!Yoongi, sub!reader, p in v), unwarranted Kiss Cam, Yoongi is just too fuckin cute. Also, we may have some sad girl times.

A/N: I have not been in the basketball circle for a while, so my knowledge is meh (also am not a Lakers fan). Also, for somebody (me) having a JK bias, Yoongi’s been on the (my) mind lately 🥴

Title inspiration: Come Out to LA - Don Broco

“Question - how would you feel about seeing a Lakers game while you’re here?” Your friend, Becca asks over the phone.

“I mean I’m not the biggest lakers fan, but it’s been a while since I’ve watched a game - I’m down!” Why not? You’d never been to Los Angeles, so it’d be a good idea to do as much as you can in the 4 days you’re there.

“Awesome! The game is tomorrow evening! Did you want to borrow a jersey? I have plenty hanging around!” Becca asked, knowing full well what your response was going to be.

“…I’ll just wear something nice.” There’s no was you’d be caught dead wearing a Lakers jersey.

“Okay! I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon then!! Love you!!” As Becca hangs up the phone, you glance over at your half packed suitcase and the pile of rejected outfits sighing - packing shouldn’t be this hard. Looking over at your closet, you eye the new lavender pantsuit you’d bought months ago - might be time to put it to good use.

🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱

“Why do I keep punishing myself with bum-fuck early flights?” You curse to yourself as you off board your last connecting flight to LAX. You needed to find Becca - thankfully she was waiting by baggage claim.

“Girl, you look like you need caffeine.” Becca stated as she gave you a giant hug. You nodded in agreement - 4 am flights aren’t exactly your jam. Grabbing your bag off the carousel, you follow her out to the car. Not even buckled in, Becca started rambling off the schedule for the day - something that didn’t surprise you.

“So, I’m thinking we drop stuff off at the house, you can change, then we do brunch? Get coffee and eat - kill two birds with one stone.” You nodded, sending the necessary texts to your family.

“What else do we have today? Better question, when is the basketball game?” You inquired - she hadn’t really disclosed that to you.

“Oh! That’s tonight! We need to be there at least an hour before tip off, it’ll be a bit easier to get to the seats courtside, plus I-“

“Did you say courtside?” You interrupted her, looking up from your phone. She nodded, smiling mischievously. “How did you land courtside? HOW MUCH DO I OWE YOU??” You KNOW you couldn’t afford the ticket at this point, even if you didn’t go shopping.

She shakes her head and laughs, “you don’t owe me anything, hun! Besides, I got them for free bec-“

“Did you win a contest??” You interrupted again.

“No, I got them fr-“

“Oh! Gifted from work?” You interrupted once more. Becca then glared at you, reaching for her flip flop.

“Well! I! Could! Tell! You! If! You’d! Stop! Interrupting! Me!” She yelled, striking you on the thigh with each word. “Now hush!” She tossed her flip flop at you. Your eyes the size of dinner plates, you nodded obediently, rubbing your thigh to help with the sting. “Oh I didn’t hit you that hard. AS I WAS SAYING, I got the tickets because I’m dating one of the guards on the Lakers. We haven’t gone public with our relationship, so I can still enjoy sitting courtside without media in my face. I was able to get him to get another ticket tonight so I could take you to see a game - they’re actually pretty fun!” You nodded, processing the new information.

“Wow - you moving out here last year really changed you for the better.” You sigh, looking down at your hands.

She reaches over and places a hand on yours, sensing your change in mood, “how are you handling all of that, by the way?” You go silent for a moment, thinking over the events from the past year.

“I was able to have closure - his family is still on my side with everything. Nobody’s really heard from him since his family and I found out why he left me for her.” You let out a frustrated sigh. “But I’m hoping it’ll be easier for them and myself once I move away.” You look back down, fidgeting with your phone again.

“Where are you planning on moving to?”

“I’m hoping here - I’m gonna check out UCLA’s Marine Bio Grad program tomorrow. It was one highly recommended by my professors.”

“Well if everything works out, I could talk to the landlord of my apartment complex. He’s actually a pretty decent guy. Plus you’d be in a pretty decent location.” Becca shrugs, turning into the complex.

“And I’d be close to you?” giving her the side eye and a smirk.

“I mean I think that’s the best perk if anything! Now come on, grab your stuff and let’s get you changed so we can start the day! Race you to my place!” She says, already running for the door.

“Becca hold on, I need my ba - I DONT EVEN KNOW WHERE TO GO!” Groaning, you grab your bags, trying not to trip over yourself as you follow suit.

🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱

“I still can’t believe you wore a pantsuit, hun. I still think you should’ve worn a jersey.” Becca shakes her head as you both enter the Staples Center.

“Well, I think it’s appropriate - it’s a tint of purple AND I wanted to look nice since we’re gonna be court side. Plus lots of people will see us, even if we’re not sitting with the celebs.” You shrug, placing the blazer to drape off your shoulders.

“Hun, you do understand that court side isn’t like the VIP lounges, right?” Becca quirks an eyebrow at you.

“Meaning?” You send her a confused look.

“Meaning we will be sitting with famous people. Like there’s only one ‘court side’, hun.”

“Well now I just hope there’s not any cute celebs.” You scoff, following Becca to the seats. She grabs her seat, pointing to her left to direct you to yours. As you take your seat, you hear a conversation to your left - one that’s not in English. Your curiosity wins and you (assumingely) nonchalantly turn to see where it was coming from. Almost immediately, you make direct eye contact with the person that’ll be sitting next to you for the night -

Suga.

He gives you a small wave and smile before sitting down, you do the same to him. Once sat, you turn to Becca with a bemused look on your face, earning a small shrug from her.

“Becca, I feel I don’t deserve to sit here!!” You whisper yell through a toothy grin, earning a laugh from her.

“You’re fiiiiiiine, hun. Just enjoy the moment! Now, do you want anything to drink?”

“…Red Bull please. Flavored is preferred, but no coconut.”

“Got it!” Becca saunters off to the drink stand, leaving you alone. Already feeling warm from the arena (the anxiety wasn’t helping), you decide to slip off your blazer. You stand to drape it over the back of your seat, leaving you in a sleeveless mock turtle neck.

Suddenly, you hear a small voice from your right - one you wouldn’t have heard if they weren’t right next to you. “I’m assuming you’re a fan of The Ocean?” You look up to see Suga pointing to your right arm, sporting a sea-themed sleeve.

“Well I hope I do, seeing as I’m a Marine Biologist.” Sitting down, you instantly regret what came out of your mouth - hoping the sarcasm wouldn’t be too lost in translation.

He laughed, surprising you that he didn’t think the line was cringy. “Marine Biologist? Do you study ocean animals then?”

“Not right now - kinda hard when you live in the mid western part of the United States. Currently I’m working with more lake, river and pond life. I’m hoping to switch to more oceanic when I finish my Master’s though.”

“So you’re not from LA?” Apparently he’d caught something in your ramblings.

Shaking your head, you answer “nope, I’m visiting my friend, Becca” you pointed to her still empty seat. “I currently live in Montana.”

“Ahh okay!” He nods, “I’ve never been there, but I want to someday. I hear it’s really pretty. Also! I didn’t catch your name!” Suga gives an apologetic look as you mentally slap yourself for not introducing yourself.

“I’m y/n! I didn’t mean to come across as rude, Sug-“

“Yoongi” he interrupts. You look at him with a confused look, your brain short circuiting. “You can call me Yoongi. Also, you weren’t being rude, I was the one that caught you off guard.” He gives you a soft smile, holding out his hand to shake yours. He then introduces his manager that’s sitting off to his left. As you two finish introductions, you feel something cool press against your cheek. Grabbing the can from Becca, you thank her before you take a drink.

“Oooh! They had my favorite flavor.” Tonight may just be okay.

🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱

“How did the refs miss an obvious travel?? Like he went almost half way across the court.” It’s coming close to the end of the 2nd quarter (not period, as you were immediately corrected by both Yoongi and Becca. “Don’t mind her, she’s more of a hockey fan.” Becca leans across you to apologize, getting a smile out of him), and while you are enjoying the game, you’re also enjoying the company around you. When the three of you aren’t yelling at the refs for missing blatant calls, you would carry conversations amongst the three of you (as well as you could in a loud arena); small talk quickly turning into more personal topics. Soon, the buzzer went off; indicating the end of the quarter.

“I’m going to head to the locker room to go see my man, then grab drinks on the way back - you want another Red Bull?” Becca asks you as she’s standing up. You nod, then she heads off. At the same time, you see Yoongi’s manager leave, leaving Yoongi and yourself alone. You feel the anxiety come back to you - while you were comfortable being around Yoongi, not having Becca there to back you up was slightly intimidating. As soon as you zone out though, you’re quickly brought back by a small touch on your forearm. You look to your left to see the hand belonging to Yoongi, who was wearing a slightly concerned look. “Are you okay, y/n?”

You blink a couple times before you nod, “yes! Sorry, I tend to zone out when my anxiety gets to be a bit much.” You then let out a breath you didn’t even think you were holding.

“Is the crowd becoming a bit much for you?” He asks, hand still on your arm. You nod. He sighs, “I’m glad I’m not the only one overwhelmed.”

It’s your turn to wear the concerned look, “I’m guessing this isn’t the same as performing, is it?”

He shakes his head, “there’s a reason I’m more of a background person” he laughs nervously.

“We suffer together then?” You suggest, hating yourself again for the cringy comment. He smiles, making you feel a bit better. The announcer then comes over the arena speakers, announcing the arrival of the Laker Dancers. You both shift your attention to the dancers on the court as Mic Drop begins to play over the speakers. You see a shift in Yoongi’s demeanor, becoming more stoic, bobbing his head to the beat. When the camera spans over to him, he gives a tight smile and a wave. Once the dancers left the court, Yoongi turns back to you, going back to being relaxed. The two of you trade more conversation while waiting for the second half to start, not even noticing when Becca and his manager return to their seats.

🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱

The game is closing in on the end of the 3rd quarter. At this point, you and Yoongi aren’t paying a lot of attention to what’s going on on the court - too engrossed in your conversation. You two were so engrossed in conversation that you didn’t even notice the play stop, what was said over the speakers or Becca calling for you.

“Y/N LOOK UP!! AT THE JUMBOTRON!!” You direct your attention to the screen above you - to see yourself.

And Yoongi.

Featured on the Kiss Cam.

He must have caught it too; because if looks could kill, most of Staples Center would be gone. Instead of getting the hint that you two weren’t happy about this, the Cam stayed focused on you two for a lot longer than necessary. Becca then reached over and grabbed your face, just to plant a big kiss on your cheek. The Cam moves on, giving some much needed relief to both you and Yoongi. Once the awkwardness of the moment had passed over, both of you turned to face each other.

“I’m so sorry!!” You both blurted out at the same time.

Yoongi throws you a confused look, “why are you sorry?”

“I feel me sitting here conversing with you in The Public Eye may look questionable to those around us - I don’t want to ruin anything for you.” You quietly confessed, looking down at your hands.

Yoongi smirks, shaking his head, “if I was so worried about that, I wouldn’t have said a word to you in the first place! Besides, I was the one that started our conversation. If anything, I’m sorry you had to be put on the spot like that. I wasn’t even aware they were gonna feature me on that - not that they had a reason to anyways.”

“Well I have a small feeling somebody is gonna lose their job today.” You looked over Yoongi’s shoulder to see his Manager in a heated conversation with Lakers Staff. He looked over to his manager, then turned back to you wearing a grimace. You both began laughing, covering your mouths with your hands as an attempt to hide it.

Sometime later, the buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the game. “Do you mind waiting a bit, hun? I wanna see my man before we head out. Should only be about 15 minutes.” Becca asked, gathering her stuff. You shrug, nodding - there was no other way you would get back to her house anyways.

As she walked off, you began gathering your stuff, then turned to Yoongi. Taking a deep breath, you blurted out without thinking, “thank you for making the game a bit more enjoyable! It was really nice meeting you!” You immediately cringed at yourself, apologizing. I really need to think before I speak my dear god, you thought.

“You’re okay, y/n! I enjoyed your company too.” Yoongi gave you a small smile, causing you to smile back. There was a moment of comfortable silence between the two of you - even though the arena was still loud. “Oh! You said you were here for the weekend, are you busy tomorrow night?” Yoongi asked, breaking the silence.

“Other than I’m visiting UCLA before noon and probably going to go shopping once Becca is off work, I have nothing else planned!” Your heart began to race, you cannot believe this is happening.

“Awesome! Well we’re thinking of hitting a club downtown tomorrow evening, around 9? Would you guys want to join us? If that’s your thing, haha” Yoongi asked, looking nervous while looking for his phone.

“I would be down! Though you’d have to tell me where to go cause I no idea where that place is at.” You smile. Yoongi smiles back, looking like he let out a sigh of relief. He then hands over his phone, asking for your number.

“I’ll text you when I get back to my hotel?” He asks.

“Okay! Can you send those photos over that you took then?” You respond, Yoongi nodded in response. His manager then came back to his side, noting his departure. You two waved, sharing huge smiles. Becca soon returns to your side. “Why the big grin, hun?”

“I’ll tell you in the car!” You say, wearing a huge smile on your face, silently praying to your higher powers to not mess up this weekend.

🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱

Unknown number: Hey! It’s Yoongi! ☺️

Y/N🐙: Hey! I’m assuming you made it back to your hotel okay?

Yoongi🐈‍⬛: Yes! Only had to deal with Army’s; no paps thank goodness.

Yoongi🐈‍⬛: Did you make it home yet?

Y/N🐙: Yes - like we just pulled up to her apartment.

Y/N🐙: Also didn’t have to deal with paps 💁🏼

Yoongi🐈‍⬛: Oh thank goodness 😮‍💨

Yoongi🐈‍⬛: Attachment - 2 photos

Y/N🐙: Ooh! I like those!

Y/N🐙: Attachment - 3 photos

Yoongi🐈‍⬛: Ooh these ones are cute

Y/N🐙: Cute?? 👀

Yoongi🐈‍⬛: Like I said, wouldn’t have talked to you if I didn’t want to - wanted to cause I think you’re cute 🤷🏼‍♀️

Y/N🐙: …🤭

Y/N🐙: That’s as good of a flirty comeback as I can conjure at the moment cause it’s past my bedtime 🥲

Yoongi🐈‍⬛: I understand - it’s past mine too. I have a mid morning photo shoot tomorrow; I’ll text you in the morning?

Y/N🐙: Works for me! 😌

🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱

“What time are you going to the college?” Becca asked the next morning while she was feeding her dog, Vanya.

“I meet with the Head of the Post Grad Biology department at 11, so probs head out at 10. Will that be enough time for me to get there?” You asked, pulling up the subway schedules.

“It should be. But I’ve gotta go - I’ll be home around 4 and we can go shopping for outfits for tonight?” You nodded in response as your phone pinged, showing a new message. Becca leaned over to peek at your phone to see a message from Yoongi. “My dear Gods this man must like you enough to text you at 8 am on a Saturday!” She smirks as you try to hide the blush on your face.

“Get to work, loser. I’ll see you later!” You laugh as her and Vanya run out the door.

Yoongi🐈‍⬛: Morning! ☺️ What time are you headed to the college this morning?

Y/N🐙: Morning!! I meet with the Department Head at 11, so I’m headed out a bit before 10!

Y/N🐙: What time is your shoot?

Yoongi🐈‍⬛: It starts at 9 - thankfully I’m not having to go far cause I’m not even awake enough to order the right coffee this morning

Y/N🐙: Speaking of, I should probs make sure my route to the college includes a coffee stop. I’m still dealing with jet lag.

Yoongi🐈‍⬛: You’re preaching to the choir, Y/N.

Yoongi🐈‍⬛: Aish, my manager is calling for me, I’ll give you a call after I’m done with the shoot!

Y/N🐙: Okay! Have fun! ☺️

After finishing breakfast, you changed into a simple pair of Khakis, a hunter green blouse and white vans. Donning a simple make up look, you completed the look with a simple ballet bun. Throwing on your AirPods, you headed out the door, making your trek towards the Subway station and hopefully some coffee.

🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱

“MIss L/N, I feel you would be an excellent addition to the Master’s Marine Bio Program! We could use a new Reseaarch Lab manager as well - plus you’d get credit for working.” You’d spent the last hour with the Department Head, him chatting your ear off. You’d grown more excited about attending; the lab job making the deal more enticing. Off hand, you’d mentioned your earlier lab work with your professor; the name immediately catching the Dept Head’s ear. “I thought I’d seen you were coming from MSUB! I had the honor of working with your Animal Bio professor years ago! Still love his research on scorpions - fascinating work.” You nod, having worked on it as your first lab project. Walking back to his office, he’d asked if there were any questions you’d had.

“Yes! I’d heard that Research Diving would be added to the curriculum - when is that happening?” You’d just finished your SCUBA certification for the subject - might as well use it.

“This next school year - right when you’d be starting if you enrolled by the end of next month!” You nodded, seriously contemplating applying. He handed you a business card, mention to email him once you had enrolled - if you choose to. You place the card in your wallet, standing to shake hands. Once you were out of his office, almost out of the building, you’d decided to check your phone. You look to see 3 messages from Yoongi, 2 from Becca and the Family Group Chat flooded with messages. Ignoring the group chat, you see that Becca is stuck working a double and won’t be able to join tonight. Internally cursing, you reply that it’s okay and you’d probably see her later tonight or in the morning. You then check the messages from Yoongi; 2 of them complaining about the shoot, and one asking if you were still at the college. You decide to call him instead.

“Hey, Y/N!” Yoongi picks up after 2 rings.

“Hey, Yoongi! I just saw your text messages; I just finished the college tour! Also, sorry about the shoot being so boring.”

“It’s no problem, but I was wondering if you’d have time to do lunch right now? I’m near the college and there’s a small restaurant nearby that I frequent anytime I’m in town.”

“Sure! I’m free for the afternoon. Can you send me the address?”

“Of course! Do you need a ride there?” You hear the text notification and check the address on Maps.

“Nah, it’s a block outside the campus - I can be there in 20 max!” Thank goodness you didn’t wear heels.

“Okay! I’ll meet you there then!” Hanging up the phone and putting your AirPods in, you began the trek to the restaurant. I’m really getting my steps in today I guess, you thought.

As you approach your destination, you pull out your phone to see if Yoongi is here yet (you’d made it in 10 minutes instead of 20), when you suddenly get a text notification from him.

Yoongi🐈‍⬛: You know, that was one of my favorite songs to perform live - wish we could’ve performed it more than once.

Y/N🐙: …wut

Yoongi🐈‍⬛: UGH! It’s one of my favorites.

Yoongi🐈‍⬛: Also, it’s not good to listen to your music that loud.

Y/N🐙: …you’re scaring me

You feel a tap on your shoulder, so you quickly spin around and nearly give the perp, Yoongi, The Elbow. Pulling out one of your headphones, you shout “DONT DO THAAAAAT YOU SCARED ME!” wearing a frightened look. Yoongi was wearing a mischievous smile in return, which then made you glare at him.

He laughs, “I am so sorry - I just saw an open opportunity and took it!”

“I could’ve hurt you though!!”

“I don’t think you would’ve cause that much damage - now follow me!” He quickly changes the subject and you follow him into the restaurant, which happened to be Tradtional Korean. The older lady at the host stand looked up and her face lit up as soon as she saw Yoongi.

“Yoongi!! It’s been a while! How are you doing??” Yoongi bows to her, you follow in respect.

“Hae Won-nim, hello! It has been a while! Everything is going well! You have room for two more in here?” Yoongi jokes, looking around the crowded restaurant. Hae Won chuckles, giving the two of you a huge smile.

“Of course I do! I’ll have you and your friend follow me this way.” She then glanced over at you, putting emphasis on the word ‘friend’. Following the two, you decided not to put too much thought into it. Once sitting and handed menus, Yoongi helped you order (you asked him if there was something not too spicy; or at least milk to help with the spiciness), then filed you in on how the shoot went. You updated him on your decision for college; having chosen to apply to UCLA. When the meals came out, a comfortable silence enveloped the two of you; even with a busy restaurant.

“Ooooh Becca is gonna LOVE this for her after work meal! Thank you again, Yoongi.” You beam, happily full from lunch. Yoongi and you are wandering around the neighborhood, still in-depth with the conversation you were having at lunch. As you were meandering, you’d passed by a Record Shop - Yoongi insisted you both stop in. Which it’s a good thing you did - you were able to finally get your hands on some B-Side 7-inches from Slipknot and Foo Fighters.

“I’m taking it you’re a vinyl collector?” Yoongi inquires, chuckling as you dove head first into the vinyl section.

“…yes. It’s a soft spot of mine. My ex used to complain about how many I had, so I stopped buying any for a while. Now that I don’t have to worry about his opinion, I’m going a bit crazy with it. Besides, I have a lot of catching up to do.” Fishing out your vinyl list on your phone, you show it to him.

“You were not joking. But no BTS?” Yoongi looks in surprise.

“I already have what’s available on vinyl. But it’d be cool if you’d release Map of the Soul 7. And maybe Young Forever?” Tilting your head to the side, you smile and wiggle your eyebrows.

“…I’ll see what I can do.” Yoongi repsonds, smirking as he shakes his head.

After letting time slip from the both of you, Yoongi walks you back to the subway station. “Are you still on for tonight?” He asks as you reach the station.

“Yes! Though Becca won’t be joining - apparently she’s stuck working.” You sigh.

“That’s too bad - but I’m happy you can still join. I’ll have a driver come pick you up from her place at 9 - I’ll need you to send me the address.” You nod, sending it over to him.

“Well, I had fun, Yoongi. Thank you again for lunch - and the vinyls! I’ll see you tonight!” You open your arms to hug him, and thankfully he did the same. After holding each other for what feels like forever, you both let go. You look down at his lips,he does the same. Just as the both of you were moving in closer, the subway is pulling up, screeching to a halt. The announcer calls for your destination over the intercom, signaling its your time to leave. Sighing, you gather your stuff and head for the open doors. Before you board on, you turn to Yoongi, waving and yelling “I’ll see you tonight!!”, almost tripping as you enter the car. Yoongi giggles, shaking his head with a smile.

🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱

“I need to see your ID, please”, the bouncer outside the door asks. You hand him your ID, noting to him that you’re supposed to meet somebody in the VIP area. Checking his list and your name, he confirms you, letting you in. “He’s in the third booth on the left, just so you know.” You thank him as you head up the stairs. You immediately notice Yoongi within the crowd; he must have been watching the door. You immediately rush over to him, being enveloped in a bear hug before you can say anything.

“Hey, Y/N! I was just about to grab drinks - come with me!” Yoongi weaves his arm through yours, pulling you towards the bar. Once up to the bar, he ordered a neat whiskey for himself and a blueberry Red Bull for you. “This outfit is a 180 from this afternoon!” He points out, giving your outfit a once over. You’d ditched the khaki outfit for a pleather mini skirt, black bralette, mesh top, fishnets and Dr. Martens.

“Well I wanted to go with something more…comfortable.” You smirk, moving closer to Yoongi.

“Well, I think this outfit looks amazing on you.” He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. You blush, biting your lower lip and look away. It’s Yoongi’s turn to smirk, passing you your drink. He offers his hand, which you take, and leads you over to the booth; where you’re introduced to some of his friends.

“So, did you want to go dance?” Yoongi asked, tilting his head towards the dance floor. You nod, following him out. Once you two are towards the center of the floor, Yoongi grabs your waist from behind, pulling you into his chest. As you two start dancing, all you can hear is the music and Yoongi’s soft, deep voice. One song turns into a few; simple dancing turns into sensual grinding. Yoongi is leaving small kisses and nips on the back of your neck; each one shooting sensations down to your core. You reach back, looping your arms around his neck as he pulls you flush with his front. You can feel his hard on, so you begin to tease him more, eliciting a low growl from him.

As another song ends, he pulls you back to the booth and before you can even try to sit next to him, he pulls you into his lap; your back to his chest and legs hooked around his. The implied dominance turns you on even more. As he is talking to his buddies, his gorgeous hands sit on your thighs, playing with the strings of the fish nets. While you nonchalantly carry on conversation with those around you, you shifted in his lap, eliciting another low growl. His hands begin to go higher up your legs, almost under the mini skirt. You look over your shoulder to try and catch his eye - he’s enveloped in a conversation next to you. You ‘readjust’ in his lap again, trying to catch his attention - he moves one hand dangerously close to your core. You sharply inhale, trying to pull your skirt hem down a bit. You feel Yoongi’s lips on the tip of your ear, “you best behave, baby.” Your face and ears feel like they’re on fire - his fingers brushing over your bare folds, making you inhale sharply again. He stops his movement, pulling his hand from you skirt. “Let’s go dance again.” He pulls you from his lap, then grabs your hand, dragging you across the dance floor before you can even register what’s going on.

On the other side of the dance floor, in a dark corner, sat a couple private rooms. Yoongi opened a door, made sure nobody was in there, then pulled you in. He slammed the door shut, then pinned you against the door with your hands over your head. With the hand on your thigh, he pushes your skirt up, resting his hand on your hip. He leans close to your ear again, speaking in a deep voice that made you even more wet. “First, you come here looking irresistible” his hand moves to your core. “Secondly, you feel the need to tease me” he finger slides along your slit, eliciting a small moan from you. “And the final strike, you’re not wearing panties?” He beings to play with your clit before inserting a finger into your pussy. “Y/N, I thought you were a good girl?” A second finger joins, causing you to moan even louder.

Gathering yourself for a moment, you look up at Yoongi. “I AM a good girl! Most of the time.” You smirked. Yoongi stopped his ministrations, pulling his fingers from you. The two of you lock eyes and Yoongi grabs your face, hungrily kissing you while pinning your body with his to the door. Letting out a moan, he takes the chance to explore your mouth with his tongue. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you grab his hair at the nape and slightly pull, causing him to growl and bite your bottom lip. He begins to kiss your jaw line, making his way down your neck and finally making purchase at the junction of your neck and collar bone. He sucks a mark there, drawing another moan from you. “I honestly don’t think I could ever get tired of that sound” Yoongi begins to kneel, propping a leg on his shoulder. “Now, let’s hear how you sound when I do this-“ licking a strip from the bottom of your slit to your clit, causing you to moan out his name. “Fuck, baby; you sound AND taste AMAZING.” Yoongi moans against your clit, causing you to moan as well. He dove in, lapping at your hole like a starved man. He soon moved his tongue up to your clit, inserting two fingers into your hole. You started feeling your core tightening when he found your sensitive spot, your hand immediately grabbing onto his hair.

“F-f-fuuuck, Yoongi. I’m close!” Your thighs begin to tremble, causing him to hook your other leg over his shoulder. He inserted a third finger into you, eliciting his name from your lips again.

“Baby, cum for me; let me have a taste.” As if you were a puppet under his control, your orgasm washed over you while Yoongi lapped up your cum from your pussy, not letting a drop go to waste. He kept lapping at you after you came down, causing you to pull him away due to overstimulation. Yoongi then adjusts your mini skirt, standing to meet your slightly fucked out gaze with his own. He then gently cradled your chin, kissing you softly. Breaking the kiss, he leaned his forehead against yours, releasing a deep, but content, sigh. “Would you like to continue this at my hotel room?” His eyes felt like they were looking into your soul at this point; but you couldn’t look away either. With a big smile and a glint in your eye, you say in a small voice:

“Yes. Please.”

🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱

The hotel room door isn’t even fully shut before you two were all over one another, a trail of clothing following the two of you while making your way to the bedroom. Once fully stripped, Yoongi lifted you under your thighs and placed you on the bed. As he hovered over you, he gazed down at your figure - your hair fanned over the pillow, eyes dilated and bottom lip bitten. To him, you were the most beautiful thing on earth. He leaned down, placing a chaste kiss on your lips, “baby, I don’t think I have condoms with me, I cou-“

You quickly interrupted him, “as long as you’re clean, I’m good. Had my check up a couple weeks ago and I’m in the clear, plus haven’t hooked up with anybody since my ex. Also, am on the pill religiously, so if you’re good to go, so am I.”

Yoongi looks at you with his signature gummy smile, “fuck, baby.” His lips find your sensitive spot on your neck immediately, sucking another mark there. His hands glide south gently along your curves, then onto your inner thighs, touching just enough to send sparks up your spine and to your pussy. As his fingers lightly touch your folds, his mouth begins to move to your chest, capturing a nipple with it. He then plunges two fingers into you, “still so wet for me, baby.”

“Yoongi, fuuuuck”, still slightly sensitive from the orgasm before, you feel yourself coming to the edge a bit quicker than usual. He moves from one nipple to the other, using his fingers to scissor you pussy wider. “I’m gonna cu-“ Yoongi then pulled his fingers out, leaving you on edge. Your eyes grew big and you let out a strained whine, completely astonished at what he just pulled.

“I want you to cum on my cock, can you be a good girl and do that for me?” He asks as he sticks his fingers into your mouth, having you taste yourself. You nod, then he pulls his fingers from your mouth, pumping his thick cock before he slid the tip along your pussy lips a couple times to collect some of your arousal. He wraps your legs around his waist, then began to slowly enter you. He leaned over to trap your lips and the loud moan that they would inevitably release as he filled you to the hilt.

“Fuuuuck, I already feel so full”, you moan out. Yoongi’s cock was probably the biggest you’d taken, the stretch causing a little pain, but it was immediately blocked by the immense pleasure. Just from him entering you, you already felt you were gonna cum.

“Ahhh, Y/N baby, I can already feel you clenching around me. You gonna cum already?” Thrust. “My cock feel that good, baby?” Thrust. “You even look fucked out already, can’t even answer me!” Thrust. “Cum for me, baby - now.” You then let go on command, feeling your core unravel as Yoongi continued to thrust through your comedown. He then took your legs up, pushing the back of your thighs to bring your legs down to your chest - putting you in a mating press.

As he began to pump into you again, you looked down at where you two connected. “Oh my god, right there, Yoongi. FUCK.” He was hitting that spot again, better than last time. Your brain was starting to turn cock-drunk; all you could think of was the pure pleasure Yoongi was giving you as you looked down again.

“Ohhh, you like seeing my cock split this pretty pussy, don’t you? This. Pretty. Pussy. Feels. Amazing. Like. It’s. MADE. For. Me.” He punctuated each word with a thrust, his hands pushing your legs wider so he could see more of you. “Fuck, Y/N, I’m getting close. Gonna fill this pretty pussy full of me - gonna make it mine.” He brought a thumb to you clit, drawing figure eights to bring you to his level again. You were a bumbling mess; not even able to form words or thoughts as you were getting close. Just as your orgasm hit for the third time tonight, your clenching triggered his release, painting your walls white. After a couple thrusts to get out all the semen, Yoongi then collapsed on top of you, still inside. Both of you took a moment to catch your breath, staring deep into each other. Yoongi smiled, kissing your nose, then bringing his forehead to yours. “You okay, babe?” You smile and nodded, still feeling slightly fuzzy. As he softened, he pulled out, watching some of your mixed cum leak out. Letting out a content sigh, he stood up, picking you up bridal style. “Come on - let’s get cleaned up.”

Once out of the shower; which included you being fucked on the wall from behind (his excuse: Not my fault all of you is irresistible). You got dressed in one of his shirts and a pair of his boxers, then went to grab water as he got dressed as well. As you hand him his water, Yoongi notices a glint of a worried look on your face. Putting a finger under your chin to have you make eye contact, he asks, “penny for your thoughts?” You sigh, contemplating just saying no. But you couldn’t, as it immediately bugged you.

“Do I need to have Becca pick me up? And if so, do you want her to do it soon or earlier in the morning? I mean I don’t want to cause any dra-“ Yoongi pulls you into an intense kiss, shutting you up immediately.

“Y/N, baby, you worry too much. I want you to stay the night and I’ll take you back tomorrow when we both feel like it. Maybe we’ll get brunch first or something like that. I would like to get as much time with you as I can before I leave.” You left as though a weight was off your shoulders as you smile at him. After finishing your waters, you both head to bed, lying on Yoongi’s chest. His steady heartbeat, breathing and his fingers combing your hair helped you fall asleep. Yoongi then softly cradled your cheek, placing a kiss on your head. I hope to be able to see you again, baby, he thought as he drifted off to sleep.

🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱

Waking up the next morning, you and Yoongi decide to go to a small cafe a couple blocks from his hotel. After orders are placed and juices are brought to the table, he grabs your hands with his. You look up at him and he asks, “So since you’re going to UCLA, when are you moving here?”

“I will probably move here next month, depending on when the apartment next to Becca’s is ready to go. Why?”

“Well, somebody has to help you move - that somebody being me.” he kissed your knuckles.

——————————

A/N pt 2: This legit was sitting in my drafts for almost a month because writing the not smut part was harder than it needed to be 🥴

#yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts suga #suga x y/n #min yoongi #yoongi fanfic

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realstrap · 1 year

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Please help!! Urgent ask!!

12/16/2022

Please Help a Mexican lesbian get dual citizenship for medical care and school!!

Hey everyone! I'm Rio/Xochitl a disabled reconnecting indigenous Mexican lesbian

This is very hard of me to ask so bear with me if my language isn't perfect but here it goes:

Over the past couple of years, my disability (chronic pain and fatigue caused by cerebral palsy) has worsened due to overworking and the pandemic preventing me from having access to adequate medical care. As such, my ability to work and maintain a regular 9-5 job or even get around in my daily life without mobility aids has diminished significantly and I've had to come to terms with that reality after attempting to work recently.

With my parents currently living in Mexico, I have a unique opportunity to obtain dual citizenship, this will grant me access to affordable medical care and schooling opportunities I can't get in the US without going into even more suffocating debt. I've experienced the differences in care and they're too stark to ignore. Put simply, my quality of life would improve drastically.

I am putting faith in my community to help me achieve this goal, I have an opportunity to finally stabilize our lives and work toward our goals, but I need the initial funds to get there! So please help out if you can !

Right now, I require the funds for:

A plane ticket- $400

New clothes- $200

Mobility aids (cane, shoe inserts, crutches)- $200

Miscellaneous/intial day to day funds- $300

Totaling $1100!

My parents do not have a means to help me get there, and they will not be in the country for very long, which is why it is absolutely VITAL to meet this goal! *I'm looking for flights leaving on February 21st* so I need this goal met by the end of January to be able to get the same price on the ticket.

Please help me meet this goal, with little exaggeration, I can tell you our future hangs on being able to make this happen, please find it in your heart this holiday season to afford a disabled person the opportunity to genuinely change their lives for the better!!

Pay links

C*sh App: $grumblybear

V*nmo: XochiRose

DM for PayPal

#lgbt #trans #community care #community support #trans lesbian

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honeybadgercomeback · 1 year

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Come Back, Be Here (Part One) | DR3

Five years pass in the blink of an eye and you’ve sacrificed so much to support the man you love. But you can’t keep doing it. When you make the decision to end things you have to carry through to find who you are again.

AN: Part two will be up in the next couple of days. If you’d like to be notified leave a comment and I’ll tag you!

Warnings: heavy angst, breakups, lying.

—

The day you made your decision was really just the straw that broke the camel’s back. It was more hotel rooms, more planes, more lines added to your flight tracking app. You’d travelled around the world more than twice already in the year and it was only August.

You’d end up at yet another race track where you’d had your photo taken more times than you could count. Those professional photos that you were never happy with got posted to instagram accounts run by people who claimed they knew who you were and what you stood for. To yet more flights and more frequent flier miles than you ever thought anyone could have. Planning flights based on airline rather than price to keep earning them, your permanent status just increasing. First class tickets you never could afford to every location, sitting in airline lounges and smiling when people came up to Daniel to wish him luck or ask for a photo.

And every few months you got dressed up for one event or another. A gala, a charity, some sponsor party because everyone wanted to see “Daniel Ricciardo’s other half”. Getting dressed up in a dress you didn’t buy and jewellery that was loaned to you by designers. Standing on a red carpet with your fiancé’s arm around you as he gave that familiar wide grin and you played the fawning date.

You hated every single moment of it, and you didn’t know when you’d started hating it.

It was all for Daniel, and you loved him so you did everything that was asked. You did the busy days and the ridiculous travel. Ignored the hate comments on every single photo you posted on your instagram account - even a photo of the cake you’d baked for a friend’s birthday got comments about how it didn’t look good. You used Twitter Circles and Close Friends judiciously on social media, all of your accounts with that familiar blue tick because you were a “public figure”.

Instead of taking the first choice job you wanted to have you’d declined it because it was in an office five days a week. You’d taken the one you didn’t want as much because it was flexible work and you could do it from anywhere in the world so you got to travel with Dan. You made it to every race on the calendar with him, a fixture in the back of the garage of whatever team he was racing with. You’d wear his merch and have headphones on to listen to the team radio as he raced. Wherever he went, you followed because you were The Ricciardos and of course you were there. The engagement ring that had been on your left hand for eighteen months just proved it.

But you still saw what people said whenever you were in the paddock. How people made snide comments about your job because you were always there, and if you weren’t in McLaren hospitality waiting on Dan you were in Red Bull with Kelly. You were friendly with the other wives and girlfriends of drivers, you’d been there the second longest now. You were the one who was at every race, and when women came for the first time with their now public relationship you were the one who welcomed them to the chaos. And set up the new whatsapp groups whenever they were needed. You blamed Pierre for how many you needed most of the time really.

It was you and Kelly as the focal point of the group. Your partners were best friends, you got along and knew what was going on, it was a natural fit. You could put the smile on and grin and hug, helping everyone keep their head up high. When a crash happened you’d seek out whoever needed comfort and remind them of the safety that was there now. It fit you well.

But you were drowning in it.

August was supposed to be the summer break but Dan was in Woking for yet more McLaren meetings. He’d told you it was normal, part of the organisation for the third year of his contract. You were plugged into the paddock gossip, you knew what was being said, how people talked about your fiancé. The way people talked about how Dan was getting what was coming to him, a new young Australian taking over from the washed out one. The way Blake looked at you sadly, as if he was barely biting his tongue, every time someone mentioned contracts or gossip.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

You were supposed to be in love, be loved. Racing would always be Daniel’s first love but you could fit in there somewhere with him. Be a priority for him. Except you weren’t his priority anymore. The fact that your fifth anniversary came and went without him acknowledging it or even texting you a hello. That was the crystal clear moment that whatever you wanted was not a priority compared to his career, and you deserved better than that. You deserved to be more than an afterthought.

Once the decision was made it was easy to organise moving out. Finding an apartment in Nice was the first thing to do and it was shockingly easy. Monaco was out, the streets too small and filled with memories. Once you were settled in an apartment you could look at a new job or new country, but away from the principality was enough for now. Then it was packing up your life.

Most of your belongings were presents from Daniel. It had become his habit to try pay for everything, the income disparities clear between you. It was with the kindest of intentions but had become a gilded cage that you couldn’t escape. You didn’t know who you yourself were anymore. You didn’t know how to be anyone except F1 WAG. Daniel Ricciardo’s fiancée. The woman with so many gossip column inches it felt wrong. The Daily Mail had a category for your name at this point and that was never who you wanted to be. You’d lost yourself and you needed to find yourself again.

You got the train to Nice and signed your month to month lease for a furnished apartment. It was unusual to have one, but the letting agent recognised your face and accepted it without a moment’s thought. Once it was signed your next stop was to rent a car to bring your belongings to the small apartment.

It was simple and you had a plan. Pack your boxes of your belongings, put them in the car, drive. It took two trips to get most of them over, the final set sitting there until you decided to leave for the final time.

You had to tell Daniel in person. He deserved to have his heart broken in front of you, rather than by phone or text. He was good and loyal and he wasn’t a bad guy, this just didn’t work anymore. He deserved someone who could support him fully. It wasn’t something you could keep doing.

You sat in the living room after getting the text that he’d landed in Nice, knowing that this was the last time. You weren’t going to see him again and that hurt. You were leaving for good and never coming back here. Your engagement ring was in the green leather jewellers box he’d proposed with, sitting on what had been your bedside locker. Taking it off your finger and pushing it into the velvet cushion was when you’d shed your first tear. It was small and neat and exactly what you’d wanted, and you’d loved it from the moment he flipped the box open. Asses online had said it wasn’t enough for a millionaire’s fiancée, that you obviously didn’t mean much to him.

You didn’t want the ring or the money. You wanted Daniel. But you couldn’t have him in a way that would make you both happy.

“I’m home!” His voice echoed around the living room as he arrived in, dropping bags on the floor and you pulled him in for a hug. This was the last one you’d share and doing this when you knew things weren’t good for him professionally hurt but you had to. You couldn’t lose more of yourself.

“Hey. How was the factory?”

“Good. We need to talk about some of my—“

“Dan, I know.” He stopped still at your words. “But we need to talk about something else.”

“I’ve got a couple of offers on the table, and we’ll be—“

“Daniel.” Your voice was soft and he stared at you. His brown eyes opened wide and it felt like he was properly seeing you for the first time in what felt like years. He looked like that Daniel you’d fallen in love with in 2017, a Red Bull star with a wide smile and wild curls. You hadn’t know what you were jumping into when you danced with the man in the nightclub and went home with him. You couldn’t have guessed how your life would change. That the next five years would be the best and worst of your life and he made the highs even higher but the lows so much lower. He made everything better and worse at the same time. He took you in fully and you could tell when his eyes caught the missing jewellery.

“Where’s your ring? Were…were you robbed? What’s going on?” They were halfhearted questions as you shook your head and the reality began to sink into him.

“You know as well as I do that this isn’t working. And I’m so sorry things are ending now. But we…it’s the wrong time for us. I can’t love you the way you need and you can’t support me the way that I need. I’m sorry.”

He looked at you for a solid minute in the silence, it was as if you could see his heart break.

“But we love each other?” That it was a question cut you like a knife.

“I don’t think it’s enough. I’m not enough for you.” It was those words that made his face crumble and you took a step back, looking down at the tiled floor. You couldn’t cry. You were the one hurting him, you didn’t get to cry in front of him.”

“You are. I swear you’re enough. You’re more than enough.”

“Be happy, Daniel Ricciardo. Be happy.”

All you wanted to do was squeeze his hand and take the pain away but you couldn’t. Instead you slipped past him in your worn out sneakers and left through the front door, closing it with a gentle click.

The routine to leave the building was practiced. A few steps to the elevator, down the floors, and out. Except this time you were going to the parking garage in the basement to get the rental car and leave, and for the first time in so long someone else got into the elevator a few floors below what had been yours.

“Hey, I haven’t…is everything ok?” Max looked at your tear streaked face as you blinked back the worst ones, wiping your face roughly with your hand.

“Will you look after him for me? He’s gonna need you now.” It took a few moments for your words to sink in as he stared at you.

“What happened? Did you have a fight? You know he’ll be down in a minute to fix whatever he did, he loves you.”

“I ended things.” The shock on his face was clear as the doors shut to bring you both down. “I ended things about two minutes ago, and he’ll need his friends. I know I’ve no right to ask this, but please. Look after him for me.”

“You can work this out. Come up to ours, stay with us for a night. Think this over.”

“Max I have. I’ve been thinking about this for weeks. He forgot our anniversary and that was the final thing. He deserves someone who can support him the way he needs, and that’s not me right now. He deserves to be happy. I can’t help him be happy. Just please. You and Seb and Estie can help him. I can’t.”

You’d arrived in the garage and Max watched you step out of the elevator with him, heading to the small hatchback that stood out in the area filled with sports cars.

“Where are you going?”

“I got an apartment. I’m going to find out who I am. It’ll be worth it.”

You didn’t expect the Dutchman to wrap you in a hug but he pulled you close, squeezing for a moment before letting go.

“If you need anything. Day or night, no matter where in the world I am, you call ok? You’re like a sister to me, call me whenever you need. And Kelly will be in touch soon to see you, P is gonna miss her aunt.”

“I will.” It was a bare faced lie but it made him look lighter so you told it easily. As far as you were concerned you weren’t going to see them again.

Once you made it into Nice and parked you picked up your phone, pulling up the Find my iPhone app. It took far too few swipes to hide your location from Dan and Kelly, making sure they couldn’t see you. Once you did that you went into the WAG WhatsApp, this one entitled “oh god they’re home for two weeks what’s this chaos”. It took little time to set Kelly as an admin and then leave the chat with a waving emoji and a red heart.

The very last thing to do was to go into an Orange shop and get a new SIM card with a new number. You snapped the old SIM between your fingertips to get rid of it. It was over. You had your new fresh start but it didn’t feel like one.

Part Two

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farearenaflighttickets · 2 days

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safaritravelsindia · 11 months

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jennay · 6 months

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Honey Bee

Jolly Master List

PART ONE/PART TWO/

You feel your throat tighten, a knot forming as you hold your phone to your ear. You feel your chest constrict, your breaths becoming shallow and ragged. You feel your eyes well up, your vision blurring. You feel your mind racing, your thoughts spinning out of control. The amount of anxiety you felt today was enough to make you leave.

Noah will know how to help you and make you feel better. He gives you honest and practical advice without judging or blaming you. He'll support you, tell you you're not alone, and always be there for you.

You hate that you feel this way, out of place. What a change from yesterday when you fully felt you were where you were supposed to be. You hoped for a different outcome, but now you knew how Jolly felt and were thankful for it, but you also felt shattered. Why couldn't life be kind for just once and let you have what you wanted?

You hear Noah's voice on the other end, but it's not the friendly greeting you hoped for. "It's only been three days, Y/n. Why are you calling me? Shouldn't you be focusing on lover boy?" He jokes. "You must be calling to thank me, right?"

You sigh and roll your eyes at his sarcasm. "Noah, please, this is serious. I need your help."

He laughs and says, "Oh, I see. You want to come back home to me, right, cause you feel bad for leaving me for so long? Well, too bad, honey. I'm taken."

You groan, "Stop it. I know you're not dating anyone, and when I come home, it won't be to YOU because we were never together, dumbass." You giggle, "You've hit full delusion without me there, huh?"

"I mean, I've had a lot of time to myself, and I've spent a lot of it in my room talking to George." He chuckles, "Anyway, what can I do for you, buttercup?"

As you walk through the tiny backyard, you admire the vibrant flowers and herbs that Jolly has grown in his garden. He's away at his mom's place, but you still feel nervous when you speak out loud. It's like you are afraid once the words come out, they will be true, and once you admit it to Noah, there is no turning back.

"I need to come home." You say, biting your lip. "I can't be here another day." You feel yourself choke over your words.

You hear him close the door on his side, and the phone crackles as he moves it closer to his mouth. "What do you mean?" He asks, sounding more concerned now. He clears his throat and lowers his voice, "Did something happen?"

"I can't talk about it at the moment. I already feel like I'm going to puke." You say, sniffing back your tears.

You can tell that Noah is getting anxious. "Did he hurt you?" He asks, his voice hard and furious. "Cause I'll come there, and I'll sort that shit out immediately."

You shake your head, even though he can't see you through the phone. "No, he didn't hurt me. Not physically, anyway." You pause, wondering how to ask him for a favor. You hate to impose on him, but you have no other option. You need to get away from this place as soon as possible. "I was just wondering if maybe you could help me out with the ticket." You whisper, hoping he won't get angry. You know you can't afford a last-minute flight back home.

Noah sighs, "Yeah, I'll see what I can find for today." The line goes silent for a moment, and when Noah speaks again, he's more gentle and kind, "I don't know what happened, but I want you to know it's going to be OK." He sounds sincere and caring, and you feel a sense of gratitude.

You feel your eyes water, but you quickly wipe them away. You don't want to cry in front of him, even if he can't see you. You want to be strong and brave like he always says you are. "I'll talk to you later." You say, trying to sound cheerful. You hang up the phone and take a deep breath. You hope he can find a ticket for you. You could really use a Noah hug about now.

Jolly sank into the recliner, facing his mom on the couch. He couldn't look at her; he felt too embarrassed and conflicted. He kept replaying the events of last night in his head, wondering if you hated him. He knew you were hurt; you barely said a word to him for the rest of the night. He saw you lying on the couch, pretending to be asleep, but he could see your eyes flickering and your body tensing.

He wanted to tell you how much he wished things were different. He wanted to kiss you and make you feel loved and be your hero and protector, but he thought he had no right to do that. He felt like he was trespassing on something that belonged to Noah.

He thought he should back off and let you sort things out with your best friend. He couldn't shake the feeling that you had hidden feelings for Noah, even though you denied it.

You and Noah seemed perfect for each other. You had known each other for so long, had your own jokes and secrets, and shared many interests. You spent a lot of time together, and Jolly knew when you did stay the night at their place, you were always in Noah's room. He couldn't help but imagine what you did behind closed doors.

"Joakim," His mother says, breaking the silence. "Is this about that girl?" She asks, noticing his gloomy mood.

He doesn't look up, afraid of what he'll see in his mother's eyes. He knows she's worried about him, but he doesn't want to disappoint her. He continues staring at the floor and nods slightly, "I should have listened to her and kissed her. I think I ruined everything." He leans forward, resting his face in his hands, and sighs.

"Tell me what happened." She urges, moving closer to him on the couch. He sits up and crosses one leg over the other, finally meeting his mother's matching irises. "I messed it up." He groans. "We had this fun day, and at the end of the night, she leaned in for a kiss, and I turned her down."

She nods, listening, "Why, I thought you liked this one?"

He shrugs. "I do. I have, for a long time."

"What is the problem? Did you forget to tell me she was married or unavailable?" She asks, growing concerned that her son has fallen into a trap.

Jolly shakes his head, "I think she has feelings for Noah, and Noah has feelings for her, but they won't admit it." He tells her, feeling the pain crushing him all over again.

"Joakim Oskar Patrik Karlsson, I love you, but you're not very bright sometimes." She laughs, "She came all this way to see you. She wanted you to kiss her. Isn't that enough evidence?"

Jolly's eyes widen, "But Noah-"

"What about Noah? She said she doesn't have feelings for Noah. You need to believe her, and if this is what you want, why aren't you going after it?" She sighs, growing slightly frustrated, "Men." She mutters. "I raised you better than this." She stands up, walks to the front door, and opens it. "Get out."

Jolly looks at his mother with confusion, "What?" He stands up, "You're kicking me out?"

"Go talk to her. Tell her everything because if you don't, she will move on, and there will be others, and you will regret this forever." She was right; he needed to tell you before it was too late.

He kisses his mom on the cheek as he exits the cozy house. He feels nervousness and excitement; he'll do it. He needed to tell you everything: how he thought about you, dreamed of you, and wanted to be with you. He rehearses what he will say but knows words are not enough. He needs to show you how he feels.

Jolly clenches the steering wheel as he drives to his house, his heart pounding in his chest. He dials Noah's number, hoping to hear his voice and clear the air. He doesn't want to lose his best friend over this. He wants to explain himself, to apologize, to make things right. But when he calls, the phone rings once and goes straight to voicemail. He hangs up and tries again but gets the same result.

Anxiety washes over him. He wonders why Noah is ignoring him, and then a horrible thought crosses his mind. You must've called Noah first.

"Fuck." He curses under his breath.

This was going to be the worst drive home ever.

He pulls into his driveway and parks the car, but he doesn't get out right away. His chest tightens when he thinks about facing you. He doesn't know what to say to you, but he hopes his feelings will show through. Jolly finally gets out of the car and walks up the driveway. He takes a deep breath and reaches for the door handle, calling out your name as he opens the door. But he stops when he sees you walking toward him with your bags packed. He feels a jolt of shock and pain as he looks at you, his eyes wide and incredulous. He can't move, he can't speak, and he can't breathe. He stares at you as you approach him, dragging your luggage behind you.

The sound of your bag hitting the ground jolts him out of his trance. "What's going on? Where are you going?" He asks, his voice cracking with emotion. He tries to catch your eye, but you avoid his gaze.

You avert your eyes from him and clamp your mouth shut, suppressing the sob that wants to break free. You wish you had left before he came back.

"Something came up at work, and I need to go home." You lie, hoping he won't hear the quiver in your voice. He knows you too well; he knows you're lying.

"Oh," he says softly, knowing at this moment there was nothing he could do to make you stay. "Let me at least take you to the airport…"

You shake your head and adjust your backpack on your shoulder. You pull out your phone and glance at the screen, "My cab's here." You say, feeling guilt in your chest. You see the pain in his face, and it breaks your heart.

"You were going to leave without saying goodbye?" He asks, his voice barely audible.

You bite your lip and look around the room, trying to find something else to focus on—anything but him: anything but the memories you've made here. "I'm sorry, Jolly. I have to go." You say, walking past him.

He grabs your arm and hugs you tightly, holding you close.

He wants to tell you how he feels. He wants to beg you to stay. He wants to kiss you and make you forget everything else. But he can't. He loves you too much to be selfish and force you to stay. He has to let you go and hope that the two of you will reunite and things will be different.

"Be safe, Honey Bee." He whispers in your ear, then gently pulls back, looking into your eyes. He sees the tears that are about to fall. He wipes them away with his thumb. He tries to smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes.

You nod your head and pick up your bags, "OK." You whisper, leaving him in the doorway as you drag your bags to the cab. You look back at him one last time and see him standing there, watching you go. You feel a surge of emotion and want to run back to him, but you know you can't. You get in the cab and close the door, feeling the finality of your decision. You drive away, leaving him behind.

He lets out a soft sigh, feeling disappointed and empty. He enters his room and sits on the bed, his heart heavy with regret. He kicks off his shoes, hoping a nap will help him forget the pain. But as he looks around the room, his eyes fall on the bedside table, and he sees it: the ring he bought you, a black band with your favorite stone in the center, sitting there, mocking him. He grabs it, holds it in his hand, and tilts it back and forth, remembering how happy you were to receive it, the smile on your face, the joy in your eyes, and your sweet smile. He feels the cold metal against his skin and wonders if you were intentionally hurting him as a form of payback. He shakes his head, not sure of how he feels. He sets the ring back on the table and lays down on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He feels so angry, knowing that this could've been prevented if he just would've kissed you. His heart aches with longing, and he wishes he could turn back time and make things right. But it's too late now, and all he can do is lie alone with his thoughts and regrets. He hears the clock ticking on the wall and counts the seconds, hoping they will pass faster. He closes his eyes, trying to block out the image of you walking away from him. He wonders if you'll ever forgive him, and he wonders if he'll have to watch you fall for someone else or if there is still hope for him when he returns home.

When you arrive at the airport, Noah greets you warmly and offers to help you with your bags. "You doing OK?" he asks, his voice laced with concern. He sees the sadness and exhaustion on your face, and he knows you've been through a lot.

You nod, "Yeah, just wanna get home." You say, forcing a smile. You don't feel like talking; you just want to forget everything that happened. Noah nods in understanding and leads you out of the airport, where his car is waiting. As you walk, Noah glances over to see you staring at the ground. It's dark and cold, and you haven't yet asked him for his jacket, which surprised him. He knows you're always cold and usually lends you his jacket whenever you're together.

"Hey," he says, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. He tries to comfort you, to make you feel better. "You wanna talk about what happened?" He asks, hoping you'll open up to him. He wants to know what went wrong, what Jolly did or said to make you leave so suddenly. He wants to help you, to be there for you.

You feel a pit in your stomach as you think of the events of the last three days. You shrug your shoulders and nudge Noah's arm off you. You open the car door, still remaining silent. You're confused and angry.

Noah starts the engine, his lips pressed together as he watches you stare out the window. He feels like he's partly to blame for what happened. He was the one who encouraged you to go see Jolly, to confess your feelings, to take a chance.

"I'm sorry things didn't go how we thought they would," he says, his voice heavy with sorrow. He watches the road, purposefully missing the turn to keep you in the car a little longer. He wants to spend more time with you, to make you laugh and forget.

"Noah…" You groan. "I don't want to think about it anymore. Jolly made his choice, and now I need to move on." You lean your head on the window and watch as the rain droplets slide down the glass. You feel like they're a reflection of your tears and pain. You wish you could wash away everything that happened, everything that didn't happen and will never happen. "Please stop missing turns. I know it doesn't take this long to get home." You say, feeling impatient and restless. You want to get out of the car, out of this conversation, out of this mess.

Noah's grip tightens on the steering wheel, not out of frustration but worry. He sees the tears in your eyes and the pain on your face. "You wanna stay the night with me? We can watch a movie, and I'm sure George would love to snuggle you." He suggests, hoping you'll agree.

You shake your head again, closing your eyes and pressing your lips together. You don't want to stay with Noah, you don't want to watch a movie, you don't want to snuggle George. You just want to go home, to your own bed, to your own space, to your own misery. "I'll get him in the morning, Noah. I just really want to go home." You say, growing frustrated. You hate to sound ungrateful, but you can't stand being around anyone now. You just want to be alone.

The rest of the car ride is quiet, and it's not until you reach your apartment that you remember Noah has a key to your door.

You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to face him. "Give me your key." You say, holding out your hand. You don't want him to have access to your place, check up on you, or bother you. You want to cut him off, at least for tonight.

Noah looks at you, shocked. "What?" He asks, "No." He says with wide eyes, "You said it's for an emergency, and right now, I'm worried you might have an emergency." He's afraid of what you might do. He cares about you more than you know, and he can't stand the idea of losing you, even if it's only mentally.

You stare at him with disbelief, "Noah, give me the fucking key. I just want to sleep peacefully without you annoying me because you're worried." You snap, losing your patience. You don't care about his feelings, and you don't care about his fears.

Noah can't believe you're pushing him away like this after everything you've been through together. He clenches his jaw and pulls his keys out of the ignition. He grabs the key and drops it in your hand. "Fine. Take it...just promise you'll come get George in the morning."

You force a smile and get out of the car. Noah pops the trunk, and you grab your bags, avoiding his gaze as you walk into your apartment.

You feel a twinge of guilt for how you treated Noah, but you can't help it. You're angry at him for making you believe that Jolly had feelings for you when he clearly didn't.

You drop your bags by your door and head to your bedroom, passing by one of the pictures you cherished of you and Jolly. You push your fingers under the frame and knock it off the wall, letting it fall to the floor. You hear the glass shatter and glance at the broken edge, feeling pain in your chest.

You stare at the photo of you and Jolly, your faces glowing with happiness. It was from the Fourth of July, the night you celebrated with fireworks and laughter. Noah was your photographer, capturing every moment with his phone. He teased you for being too scared to light anything but sparklers, but Jolly didn't mind. He thought you were adorable and joined you with his own sparkler. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and kissed your temple as the sparks flew around you. It was a perfect night, and you felt nothing could go wrong.

You shake the thoughts as you walk away, not bothering to clean it up.

Reaching your room, you strip out of your clothes and turn off the light. You crawl into bed and reach for your phone, squinting at the bright screen.

You see a text message from Jolly. Did you make it back safe?

You sigh and turn off your phone. You don't want to talk to him. You toss your phone aside and lie on your back, staring at the ceiling, feeling lost and confused. You can't believe you fell for Jolly after holding him at arm's length for so long; you should've trusted your instincts. How did you miss the clues that he was only being nice to you? Maybe you missed the friendly signals because of how he held you the other night in his bed, making you feel safe and serene, or was it how he would wrap his arms around your waist or rest his hands on your hips when he spoke to you? Or maybe it was the ring he gave you, telling you he wanted you to think of him whenever you glanced at it.

You roll on your side and pull the blanket over your head, muffling your sobs. You hate feeling this way. You wish you could erase him from your mind, but you know you can't. He's a part of you, and you can't let him go. You close your eyes and drift into a restless sleep, dreaming of what could have been.

Part four

Tags: @blackveilomens @xxrainstorm

@somewhere-diamond @cookiesupplier

#jolly karlsson x y/n #jolly karlsson x you #jolly karlsson one shot #jolly karlsson fanfiction #jolly karlsson fic #jolly karlsson x reader #jolly Karlsson angst #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fic

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selkies-world · 2 months

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Sign the petition to demand the creation of a new international law requiring fast-fashion garments to come with a statement of the human cost and environmental harm caused by their creation.

We all know fast fashion is bad for the planet - slave labor, environmental waste, air and water pollution, and unsustainable practices are just a few of the ways they impact our planet, our health and our lives. To date, the fast fashion industry is the 2nd largest consumer of water and is single-handedly responsible for 10% of global carbon emissions (that's more than all international flights and maritime shipping across a year combined). Even the simple act of washing these clothes releases 500,000 tons of microfibers into the ocean each year - that's equal to 50,000 plastic bottles. Fast-fashion is the 3rd leading cause of the climate crises we face, yet is rarely addressed.

Knowing these stats is one thing, and understanding them is important. Being aware of them is somewhat informative. But as long as we keep turning a blind eye to the issue, the stats are only going to get worse, and nothing will change for the better. Ignoring the issue or brushing it under the rug won't help anything. So what if we could see the real-world damage done by each of the garments we buy?

In the same way that cigarette packets have shown the harm their products do to our bodies ("SMOKING KILLS", lung cancer visualizations, etc.), what if fast fashion manufacturers & retailers had to show the harm their products do to our planet?

[Image ID: A type-writer font has been used on a brown craft paper background. The text reads: "32 animals lost their habitat to the field where my crops were planted - 2 of those animals are already endangered species. 2,700 litres of water were used in my production. I was made in a sweatshop enslaving men and women aged 16 - 45, and children aged 6 - 14. I contain 0.22kg of carbon dioxide dye." End ID.]

This is a mock-up of a label / statement for a single T-shirt, with researched statistics and educated estimates for the information I couldn't find a calculated answer for.

Now imagine labels / statements like this for every single piece of clothing: how many toxic chemicals are in those new jeans? How many litres of water did that shirt take to make? How many animals were skinned to make those cute fur-trimmed boots? How many children made that jumper? How many people were forcibly removed from their homes, so production companies could plant crops to grow the materials used in clothes manufacturing? How many families were evicted for no reason other than corporate greed? How many trees were cut down? How many animals were displaced or killed?

Would you really want to buy those items of clothing if the answers to those questions were staring you in the face?

If this information was stated in clear, accessible ways on both the website and the ticket on the actual garment, this would dramatically reduce the number of people buying fast fashion items. It would also reduce the profits being made by fast fashion companies, and could lead to many of them being forced to choose between changing and becoming sustainable, eco-froendly and ethical brands, or shutting down due to being boycotted.

Who would really want to knowingly buy things that are made by slaves, or which cost a family their home, or which contributed to deforestation? Who would continue to buy fast fashion items knowing this is the damage caused by them, when sustainable alternatives are an option?

Whether it's second-hand fashion at affordable prices, or investing more money in sustainable products which were made with high ethical standards and which cost more money due to the fact their price accounts for the time it took a person to make that item... we can say for certain that sustainable shopping is going to become much more popular if people know how important that change is. Sustainable items last much longer than fast-fashion items, which by design are created to self-destruct, as they are made to be worn a few times and then discarded in order to be replaced by the next trend's items - and as trends speed up, these items become weaker and weaker. This then leads to people spending more money in order to keep up with the newest trends, and to keep replacing clothes they throw out after a few washes.

In contrast, buying sustainable items which are designed to last years means people won't have to spend money on new clothes every few weeks, which means they'll ultimately save money in the long term and actually be able to afford those pricier items which will last much, much longer.

Now, despite the amount of harm the fast-fashion industry causes to people and the environment, the last thing we should be doing is getting angry at those who continue to buy them. Being the target of anger doesn't make large populations change their behaviour - even a cursory look through history books will tell us that much. Neither does being the target of resentment or blame.

But guilt? Shame? Those are two of the most powerful emotions to magnify when you want change to happen in waves.

And frankly, if people feel ashamed of buying something, or if buying something makes them feel guilty... they're going to stop buying it.

Those aren't the only emotions that should be felt, though. Because only feeling guilt and shame leads to feeling hopeless, scared, anxious and depressed. And we don't want that. No matter how bad things get... we don't want that.

The only other emotions to provoke are hope and pride.

If there's no hope for the future, how can anyone be expected to imagine a better one?

You wouldn't think it, what with all the climate crises and disasters we experience around the world and the total lack of commitment made by billionaires, multimillion-dollar companies and corporations and politicians.

But it's true. Scientists in Scotland have discovered bacteria which eat plastic and speed up the decomposition of it. ‘Ecocide’ is now punishable by law. Some countries within the EU are already close to meeting their 2030 goals years ahead of schedule! Thanks to scientists and small, individual changes made on a massive scale by ordinary people who are making small adjustments to our everyday choices, we can and are healing most of the ozone layer before 2050. That is something we should all feel incredibly proud of.

So imagine how much we could speed that process up if more people made those changes. Imagine how much sooner we could heal our planet if billions of people made those changes, rather than millions. Imagine how much sooner we could be seeing the effects of a healthier planet if fast fashion companies were forced to choose between going green and transparent, or closing altogether due to a lack of interest from consumers. Imagine the changes we could create if corporations made massive changes in a short amount of time, in order to save their own profits.

Imagine more labels like this, sitting alongside each other on every single piece of fast fashion clothing. A statement like this beneath every item of clothing on fast fashion websites, which transparently states the harm done.

If every single fast-fashion company and store had to display this on their clothing, on their racks, on their websites, and if there were legal punishments for those who tried to evade or lie... fashion would turn a lot greener very quickly. We'd start seeing more and more labels with "I'm made from 6 plastic bottles! I used to be a newspaper! I had 0 pesticides used on me in my production! I only contain natural dye made from berries, beans and sustainably grown flowers. I was made from apple skins and corn! The people who made me get to go home to their families every night, have days off and the adults made £150.35 each in 1 week! The animal who made the wool for me is free-range and well-cared for! I came from a small family farm, and was created with a closed-loop water system!”

That'd be a much better civilisation to shop in, don't you agree?

That is hope for the future.

That is motivation, which can fuel ordinary people to do extraordinary things and create changes they thought were impossible.

If you want to be a part of creating this change, sign the Change.org petition which demands the the creation and implementation of an international law which will require all fast-fashion products to be displayed with a statement which states the harm done to people and the planet by that garment being made & shipped.

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hotmentransformed · 2 years

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Live from New York

Standing in line to board your flight, you basked in the feeling of possibility. From here on out, anything could happen. After years of working minimum wage at Dairy Queen, you had finally saved enough money to move to New York City. You loved your small town in Iowa, but there was something magical about the Big Apple. There, you could start over and be somebody new. After high school, you wanted to go to college. Some prestigious university would've been your dream, like Harvard, Yale, or Fordham. You had the grades, but you couldn't afford to pay tuition. So you stayed. Luckily, the DQ was hiring, and you got decent pay. By no means were you living large, but you got by. Now, with enough money saved up, you bought a one-way ticket from Des Moines to JFK. You had reached out to a friend living in the city, and they agreed to let you stay with them for a little bit until you found a job and your own place. Armed with just your backpack filled with a couple hundred bucks, some clothes, and a dream, you boarded the flight.

Once you landed in Queens, you desperately navigated the terminal, trying to find your way to the E train into Manhattan. Finding the station, you waited patiently for the subway to arrive. Turning your backpack onto your stomach, you pulled it tightly into your torso. Everything you owned was in that bag, you couldn't bear to lose it. The roar of the approaching train filled your ears, and it skidded to a stop in front of you. The doors opened, and you found the car absolutely packed. You had never seen so many people in one place all at once. Forcing your way into the car, and finding a place to stand near the opposite door, you kept a close eye on the screen, waiting until the 5th Avenue and 53rd Street stop appeared. Then, as the subway stopped and the doors opened, you clutched your backpack and stepped onto the platform.

Exiting the station, you were engulfed by the sounds and sights of Midtown. Your friend lived in a small one-bedroom near 50th and 6th, right in the center of everything. Walking around, you found yourself enamored with the tall buildings and the busy people walking extremely fast. The route you were taking to your friend's apartment took you right past Rockefeller Plaza. Being the tourist you were, as soon as you passed the sign for NBC studios, you decided to pull your phone out of your backpack. Reaching in and then throwing your backpack over your shoulder, you looked up at the words. Growing up, you had seen this marquis on television, and now it was really here. Lifting up your camera, you snapped a photo.

Just as the shutter clicked, a man ran up from behind you and snatched your bag. "Hey!" you screamed. Without stopping, they continued to sprint and turned the corner before you even thought to run after them. Shit. Now what? Looking at the doors of the studio, you figured that they must have security cameras. They could help you. I mean, after all, everything you owned was in that bag. Stepping through the glass doors, you were astounded by the vast ceilings and smooth architecture. You were definitely in the big city.

Approaching the desk, before you could even open your mouth, the attendant looked up at you and gasped. "Sir, you're late, we need to get you upstairs now!" Before you even had the chance to respond, you were whisked away, being led towards an elevator. Shoving you into an elevator, the attendant mashed the button that said "8H." Looking dumbfounded, you opened your mouth to speak, but just as you did the doors shut and you began to ascend into the building.

This was weird, but hey, you had nothing else to lose. It's not like you were breaking in, you were put here. Once you got off the elevator, you would explain exactly what happened, and they would help you find security to figure out how to get your backpack back. As the elevator doors opened and you opened your mouth to speak, two female stylists rushed in and began ushering you through the hallways. The taller one began chastising you for running late as usual, without letting you get a word in. Giving up, you let them guide you into a dressing room. There, you were shoved into a seat. Finally, with the hustle and bustle finished, you finally had a chance to speak. "What's happening?" You managed to finally ask. The stylists looked at each other amused. Without saying a word, they reached towards your body and ripped off your clothes, leaving you nude apart from your underwear.

"Hey! What was that for?" You screamed at the pair. The shorter one explained. "We don't have time to take them off, Sir. Now hold still." The tall one pulled a white jar out of her bag, and the two began applying some sort of cream all over your chest. As the cream made contact with your skin, it began to heat up. As it did, firm muscles began pushing their way from your torso. Thick pecs formed a shelf and dark hair spread its way across them. The stylists massaged the cream into your arms, which flexed with new strength and were covered in that same hair. Your hands cracked as they grew large and manly. You were left with a thick beefy upper body.

The stylists massaged the cream into your feet, which grew and expanded, dark hairs emerging from the tops. After applying the cream to your calves, they stretched and ballooned as well. Your thighs were next, the short one was intensely working her hands around your thighs and shoved her hands under where you were seated. The cream made your legs thick and hairy, and your ass lifted you upwards on the chair. The short one continued to massage your thighs as the tall one applied the cream to your face. Your teeth whitened and your jawline sharpened. Your eyes lightened to a piercing blue. The tall one massaged your scalp, as your hair thickened and became immaculately styled, your head felt fuzzy. You remembered attending Harvard? No, you could never afford that. You were from rural Iowa. The shorter stylist lifted her hands from your thighs and pulled down your underwear, revealing your cock. Reapplying more cream to her palms, she began to massage your cock. Your head felt even fuzzier as the pleasure built up. You weren't from Iowa, you were from Staten Island. Your dick grew longer with each tug. You were married, and your wife loved your amazing body. The pleasure built up even more. Shit, everyone loved your amazing body. With one final tug, your thick cock shot out ropes of cum, and with it, every memory you had of your previous life. You lived in New York now.

The shorter stylist pulled out a towel and began to wipe your thick and muscled body clean, as the taller one grabbed your tailored suit off of the hanger. Standing up, you lifted your thick legs as the stylists pulled your pants on. You lifted your thick arms outward, exposing your forested armpits, as your dress shirt was brought onto your body. The two stylists buttoned you up. Lifting your arms again, you felt the fancy jacket pulled over you. Sitting down again, you were handed your tie. As you tied, the shorter stylist lifted your large feet into dress socks and placed them in your shoes. Once you finished tying your tie, you stood up, and without acknowledging the two women, you turned towards the door and began walking through the halls. You knew exactly where you were headed. As you reached the backstage area, a man placed your mic on your jacket. Finding your seat, you heard the intro music play. This was your job. The audience was applauding for you. You read your cue card.

"Welcome to Weekend Update, I'm Colin Jost."

#celeb tf #celebrity tf #celebrity #celeb #muscle tf #tf #male tf #colin jost #colin jost tf #male transformation #transformation #transform #muscle transformation

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universitypenguin · 1 year

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Part 10

The Princess & the Lawyer

Author’s Note: I know this chapter was a very long wait, but it just wouldn’t come together how I wanted. However, with a lot of elbow grease (and a ton of revisions) it finally took shape. Part 11 is written and will post on Jan. 24, 2023.

Masterlist

Word Count: 4,959

Warnings: The flight delay from hell. Contains mention of masochism and sadism (non-explicit), as well as dominance and bondage. Depiction of mental suffering due to guilt and remorse. Explicit discussion of murder.

Part 10

“Attention in the terminal… Attention in the terminal…”

The loudspeaker crackled as the announcer waited for the traveler’s attention.

“Passengers on flight QR327, from Doha to London. We have encountered a significant delay. Due to volcanic eruptions off the coast of Yemen, there is a significant amount of ash in the atmosphere. Because of low visibility we cannot authorize any departures. Please see the desk agent for further assistance.”

Lloyd tilted his head back and groaned.

“Fucking hell.”

“It could be worse,” you said. “At least we’re not stuck in Singapore.”

“Point taken. I’ll call Zach.”

“I’ll see if I can find out anything more from the ticket agent.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Lloyd said dryly.

“Pessimist. All it takes is a little charm.”

He headed to the wall of windows overlooking the terminal and leaned against the stone column. Zach picked up on the third ring.

“Hey. You’ll never guess what’s happened.”

Zach laughed once he’d heard the explanation. “Yeah. There are volcanoes all over the gulf. Most of them are dormant, but isn’t that what they said about Mount St. Helen?”

“Dormant isn’t the same thing as extinct,” Lloyd said.

“I’m looking up hotels for you.” Keys tapped in the background. “Uh… well, that’s inconvenient.”

“What?”

“There are eight different conferences in town. The hotels are booked. Let me see…”

More keyboard clicks.

“I have an airbnb, is that good for you?”

“We’ll take it. Text me the address,” Lloyd said.

He hung up and ordered a car service. You were waiting with the luggage. When he approached, you offered a sheepish smile.

“The charm offensive was a total fail. Did you have better luck?”

“Zach got us an airbnb. The hotels are booked.”

“That’s what the desk agent is learning,” you said.

He picked up the strap of your heavy laptop bag and slipped it over his shoulder.

“Our car is here. Let’s go.”

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

The car took another familiar turn and Lloyd tensed. He definitely recognized this street.

They’d expanded the road into the neighborhood and re-landscaped around the front gate, which had disguised it at first. But a nasty sense of familiarity kicked in as they navigated the streets of the gated neighborhood. When they exited the second curve of the roundabout, he was certain of their destination.

Dread settled in the pit of his stomach.

The driver pulled up to the pristine white villa and stopped, waiting as the wrought iron gate swung open.

“Wow. Zach really picked a great spot,” you murmured.

“He owns it.”

“Really? Uh… not to be rude, but how can he afford this?”

“It belonged to his ex-wife. He must have gotten it in the divorce.”

“Well, it’s nice of him to lend us his Airbnb.”

Lloyd ground his teeth. “Yeah. Nice…”

He tipped the chauffeur and turned down his help with the bags. Shouldering the luggage himself, Lloyd climbed the stairs. At the top he paused, staring ahead at the double doors at the end of the hall. Looking at them made him feel as if he were standing on the edge of a very high cliff, where the atmosphere lacked enough oxygen to saturate his blood.

Lloyd dragged his eyes away and put the bags in the guest room farthest from the master suite.

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

A wave of ash arrived the next day, obscuring the sun as the volcano in Yemen continued to erupt. It turned the air toxic and made stepping outside for even a few minutes burn your eyes and lungs. The eclipse of ash-clouds blocked out the sun and seemed to turn Lloyd’s mood dark as well.

You avoided him. There were enough fumes in the air without getting too close to the toxic cloud hanging over him. After breakfast you explored the property. In the basement you discovered a gym and an unused subterranean garage. The ground floor had a living room at the front of the house, a kitchen and dining room, and a large study with a half bath. The second floor held three guestrooms and a master suite.

The most interesting discovery you made was at the center of the house. After touring all three levels, you’d realized the upper floors weren’t as large as they ought to be. It was like the builder had made them hollow. You also noticed that some of the guest rooms had windows where it shouldn’t have been possible to put a window. You looked through one and found a lush garden filled with jungle plants. Squinting down at the foliage you saw rows of pygmy date palms and if you weren’t mistaken, the brightly colored, lobster-claw shaped flowers of a Heliconia plant.

How could Lloyd not have mentioned this?!

You nearly flew down the stairs and searched for the entrance with the energy of a sugar high toddler on their way to Disneyland. When you found it in the narrow hallway off the butler’s pantry, you threw open the door and squealed. The air was untainted by the stench of ash. Looking up, you saw glass. Suddenly the unusual design of the house made sense.

The villa was hollow, and the courtyard was a solarium.

Walking through the solarium lifted your spirits considerably. Its pebbled paths reminded you of the botanical gardens back home. The humid scent of water drew you onward, searching for its source. Based on the species living in the garden, some exotic water plant, like a giant water lily or a blue lotus, might be just around the corner.

Rounding another bend in the path you stopped short. It wasn’t a rare plant that surprised you, but the unexpectedness of finding a swimming pool in this quasi-jungle that sent you into a fit of giggles.

“Was Lloyd hiding this for himself?” you murmured. “Rude.”

In front of the pool, the path widened and turned into a patio with green and white striped tile. There was an array of lounge chairs by the pool and a wrought iron table, big enough for six people, in the middle of the patio. The pool was about four times as long as it was wide, designed like a swim lane. You dipped your hand in the water and smiled at its warmth. So, they’d created a heated pool that doubled as a humidifier for the jungle plants. Clever.

If you won the lottery, you were going to buy this place from Zach.

“Princess! Are you out here?”

Lloyd’s voice boomed through the solarium, shattering your peaceful moment.

“Yeah!”

“Well, get in here. We have a team meeting on Zoom in ten minutes.”

You sighed and folded your arms across your chest, wishing you could dive into the pool and play hooky. If Lloyd was in a better mood, you probably could’ve gotten away with it. But he was pacing around the house like a caged tiger. Ever since you arrived he’d been acting like a different person. Last night he hadn’t come to bed. He’d spent all night and all morning pacing around the living room with his headphones in, listening to the audio of Nguyen’s interview on repeat.

The team meeting was a disaster. This was hardly a surprise, given Lloyd’s foul temper. He was rude, condescending, harsh, and abrupt. No idea was good enough for him. As the meeting dragged on he shifted from insulting to passive aggressive.

Now, there were things you could handle. Direct confrontation was fine. Being raised with five siblings wasn’t the most peaceful environment to grow up in. Your ability to strike back was nearly as keen as your ability to smooth over a conflict, but passive aggressiveness was your kryptonite. It sent you back to middle school, when sarcasm and waspishness suddenly became every pre-teen girl’s default setting.

“Well, that’s not fucking helpful, now is it?!”

Lloyd hissed at Zach over the screen as you shrank into the couch.

“And what have you found that’s helpful?” Zach snapped.

“Guys, settle down,” Landon said.

“You’re all fucking useless!”

“Lloyd…”

You spoke quietly, so the microphone on the computer wouldn’t pick up the reprimand. He was so wrapped up in his tantrum that he didn’t hear.

“Nguyen gave us something in this transcript, we just have to find it!”

“Take your lithium salts, asshole, ‘cause the voices in your head are talking again!”

“Eat shit, Zach!”

“You need to calm down.”

You rubbed your temples, biting back a groan.

“Shut up, you’re giving Princess a headache.”

Zach raised his eyebrows. “Am I? Or are you?”

“I am not in a bad mood, you’re just incompetent!”

“You’re acting like a honey badger that woke up on the wrong side of the bed. This entire meeting is a waste of time. We should quit while we’re ahead.”

“We aren’t ahead! We’ve found jack shit so far!”

“How can we, when you’re in full-on bitch mode?” Zach snapped.

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Has anyone considered why the doctor never pointed to someone else as a suspect, if he was innocent?” Jake asked.

“He’s not fucking innocent! I swear, he said something incriminating, I can almost put my finger on it. If anyone would like to help with that task…”

Jake held up his hands in surrender.

“Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

Landon sighed. “Okay. Let’s call it. We’re not getting anything done, and it’s turned into a shit show. Everyone has copies of the video. We’ll split up and review them on our own. And until both of you are in a better frame of mind, don’t even think about speaking to each other.”

Lloyd grunted, crossing his arms and his legs and looking away. Zach grunted and ducked his head.

You resisted the urge to tell Lloyd that he looked like a sulking Buttercup from the Powerpuff Girls cartoon. The posture, the squint of his eyes as they narrowed, and even the twist of his frown, bore an uncanny resemblance.

You signed off the video call, and without saying a word, walked to the kitchen and through the butler’s pantry. Stepping into the solarium was a relief. Even with the cloud of ash overhead, this was the brightest spot in the house. Being around so many plants was like an oasis. You returned to the pool, lay down on a lounge chair, and waited.

It didn’t take long. Gravel crunched, signaling Lloyd’s approach. The crunching stopped and then there was a long silence before Lloyd spoke.

“I’m sorry for being obnoxious.”

You didn’t reply.

“I said, ‘I’m sorry’…”

Gravel shifted as Lloyd shuffled his feet.

“Are you going to ignore me?”

“Probably,” you said.

“Why?”

“Because Zach was right - you’re acting like a honey badger and itching for a fight. I’d rather not get my head bitten off, if it’s all the same to you.”

He muttered something under his breath that you didn’t catch.

“If you want to talk about whatever is bothering you, I’ll be here. But if you think for a second that I’ll be your verbal punching bag, you’re going to end up in the pool with your clothes on.”

Lloyd snorted. You looked over your shoulder to find him standing on the path a few feet back from the edge of the patio tiles.

He looked haggard, and more rumpled than you’d ever seen him. With his hands tucked in his pockets, he looked almost like a child trapped in a grown man’s body.

“I am sorry,” he said, shuffling his feet again.

You beckoned him over. He crossed the patio and even though you made room for him, walked around to the next lounge chair.

“Lloyd, just tell me what’s going on. I’ve never seen you this stressed.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah.”

Silence fell. You could hear the sound of Lloyd’s breathing. His exhalations came too fast, and his inspirations were too shallow. From under your lashes, you watched him. Why was it suddenly so hard to read him?

“I’ve been here before. I was…” Lloyd broke off. “I’d rather not explain.”

The perplexing statement was as much of a puzzle as his behavior. It moved you no closer to understanding his mood. Did ‘before’ refer to his time in the private sector, or in intelligence? It was probably the latter, given that Zach owned the house.

You had even more questions. Asking them outright wouldn’t accomplish anything with Lloyd. Information was coaxed out of him, not pried.

He shook his head and stood up. “I’m going to listen to the audiotape.”

“Okay. What do you want for dinner? I was thinking of ordering in. There are some great Lebanese restaurants around here.”

“No. I’m not hungry.”

Lloyd put his earbuds in and paced around like a caged animal for the rest of the day. If you’d considered him surly before, now he was an absolute bear. The fight with Zach and his halting almost-a-revelation-but-not-really wound him even tighter. You took refuge in the study where there were two extra monitors and an HDMI cable. With a better work station and some peace away from Lloyd you had a productive afternoon.

The rest of the night was spent avoiding Lloyd. He moved through the house like a black cloud, scowling, muttering, slamming doors, and swearing. You watched in near disbelief as he descended into fits of anger the likes of which you’d never seen before. It wasn’t that you felt threatened, but that Lloyd’s blood pressure was becoming a significant concern.

You ordered from a nearby restaurant and ate at the desk in the guest room. Thumps and thuds could be heard from the basement two floors below. Lloyd claimed he was having a workout, but it sounded more like he was throwing weights at the wall. You put your head down on the desk and moaned.

Another crash. Bang! You covered your ears.

When the noise stopped, you reached for your phone, and toggled to contacts. Your thumb hovered on Zach’s name.

Should you call him? Or wait?

If anyone would know why Lloyd was acting strangely, it would be him. The only clue you had was that a past visit to this house had triggered his emotional disturbance. Zach might be able to fill in the blanks… but Lloyd hated being talked about behind his back.

You put the phone down and pulled your knees up to your chest, staring at the device, and second guessing your decision. It lit up and buzzed. Snatching it up, you saw a text from Jake.

Can you talk right now?

You called him immediately. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Have you checked the messages from your stalker?”

“No. Why?”

“Because they’ve taken a weird turn. He’s gone from horror movie quotes and slasher pics to personal.”

Your hand went to the base of your throat. The extra pressure helped ground you enough that you could breathe.

“What do you mean? What’s he saying?”

“It’s like he’s noticed he isn’t getting a reaction from you, so he’s stepping up the pressure. He’s being… specific…”

“Jake! Tell me what he said!”

“He sent photos of your apartment building. One taken during the day, another at night. I checked the metadata, and it was edited. All I could get was a GPS location and the time he created the file.”

You leaned forward, bracing your elbows on the desk and breathed.

“The photo was taken on July 18th,” Jake said.

“That’s last week! The messages didn’t start until a few days ago!”

“Did you notice anyone following you? Or anything out of place, at home, at work, or anywhere else?”

Your heart raced as you recalled the feeling of being watched in the park at Sam’s birthday party. Jake’s photo was from three days before. Had it taken you that long to feel the eyes tracking you?

“The day of my nephew’s birthday party is when I felt like someone was watching me. If the data from the photo is right…” You swallowed hard. “Someone was following me for days… and I didn’t notice…”

“Hey. It’s not like you could expect this sort of thing to happen, okay?” Jake’s soothing voice held an undercurrent of steel. “The first phone call was at your nephew’s birthday, too. Right?”

“Yeah.”

“I think we should bring Landon in on this as soon as possible. I want him to review the messages and see if he can make a profile of the person behind them.”

“We don’t need a profile. It’s Aiden.”

Jake was silent. The pause stretched for several seconds.

“You’re absolutely sure it’s him?”

“Yes. No one else has a reason to mess with me.”

“Was he ever possessive? Did he show up without letting you know he was coming by? Or text you incessantly?”

“No, but that was before, when he had a job and a social life. This isn’t like him at all. I think it has to do with being fired.”

“As soon as I can get Landon alone, I’ll bring him up to speed.”

“Thanks, Jake.”

“I’m glad I can help. One more thing. The phone number you asked me to track? It’s been in California for two weeks.”

“Where in California?”

“Pebble Beach golf course. The phone has mostly been switched off, or left in a hotel room, for the past ten days.”

“I can’t imagine living like that.”

Jake laughed, but it was forced. “Well, the good news is that this morning the phone pinged off a tower near the airport in San Francisco.”

“I really appreciate all you’ve done.”

“Do you appreciate it enough to tell Lloyd what’s going on?”

“I know I have to tell him at some point, but I just can’t. Not right now.”

“Point taken. He must be a nightmare. That video call was intense,” Jake said.

“It’s like having a grizzly bear in the living room. Right now, I’d rather walk over broken glass barefoot than tell him about Aiden. It would send him through the roof.”

“Maybe it should.”

“Nothing productive was ever accomplished in a fit of rage.”

“You’ve never seen Lloyd enraged.”

“Uh… were we on the same video call this morning?”

Jake laughed, and this time it was genuine. “No. Uh-uh. That’s not rage, that’s bad temper. He’s irritated. Lloyd Hansen in a fit of rage is a lot more action oriented. Trust me.”

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

The next day, Lloyd’s bad temper worsened. He went from slamming weights around in the basement and stalking through the house like a caged animal into something darker.

He was distant and remote and he’d become paranoid. There was a piece of clear tape across the seam of the front door at ankle height. Lloyd checked it frequently. He examined the security cameras footage on his phone every fifteen minutes. And he would hardly let you out of his sight.

Finally, you broke down and called Zach. He groused about Lloyd’s bitchiness and the horrible team meeting, suggesting that his ex-teammate needed to “pull his head out of his ass.”

You lost your nerve when you heard Lloyd approaching. His feet crunched on the gravel path through the solarium and then stopped. You felt his eyes on you for a moment. Without speaking, he turned around and went back the way he’d come.

Lloyd didn’t speak all day. He listened to the audio of Dr. Nguyen’s interview over and over, walking laps around the house and through the solarium.

By nightfall, the scenario was unchanged. A strategic retreat was in order. You found a package of chocolate chip cookies in the pantry and took it upstairs. Was it a good idea to eat cookies for dinner? No. Did you care? Not today. When the stomach ache from excessive sugar hit, you might care. But that was hours away.

For the second night in a row, you ate at the guest room desk, avoiding Lloyd.

Your mind wandered back to the situation with Aiden. Why hadn’t you gotten a return phone call today? The person you’d been trying to contact must have flown home from Pebble Beach today. Their lack of response was wearing on your already frayed nerves.

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

He’d never had a midnight therapy appointment before.

Lloyd deeply resented this new low, which some godforsaken volcano in the Arabian Sea had brought him to. It was day three of the flight delay and Mount Zubair continued to cough up smoke.

Dr. Blair appeared on screen. He wore a tweed blazer and denim shirt, no necktie. As far as Lloyd had seen the man didn’t own any ties.

“Good morning, Lloyd.”

“Good afternoon, for you.”

Blair smiled. “So it is. How are things going? I heard you’re stuck in the Gulf.”

“Yeah. It sucks. I hate it.”

“Tell me about it.”

Lloyd explained.

He had a policy about therapy, or at least, about therapy with Dr. Blair. The aging psychotherapist was the only person with whom Lloyd allowed himself to be completely honest. For his own peace of mind, he’d dug into the doctor’s background prior to enlisting his services. He knew almost everything about him and he trusted the doctor’s discretion.

With brief facts, Lloyd detailed the trip to Singapore, the confrontations with Pruitt and Gentry, and the volcano.

“And now, I’m stuck in Doha… at Zach’s villa.”

Dr. Blair cocked his head. “This is the same villa where-”

“Yes.”

“How long have you been there?”

“Two days. Well, three days, as of eight minutes ago.”

“How does being there make you feel?”

“Restless. Angry… Nauseous.”

“That’s a lot of emotions for you. Particularly all at once.”

Lloyd ran a hand over his jaw.

“What’s your sleep schedule been like?”

“I haven’t slept in two days.”

“Are you alone, or is your co-worker stuck with you?”

“She’s here,” Lloyd said.

“I see.” Dr. Blair picked up his pen and made a note. “How’s she doing?”

“She’s avoiding me, and I can’t blame her. I’ve been…”

He searched for the right word, and the one that came to mind surprised him.

“Ruminating. I can’t stop.”

Blair nodded. His placid expression irritated Lloyd.

“What does the restlessness feel like? Is that what’s been keeping you awake?”

“Yes… No… Maybe. I don’t know. I’m out of control.”

“Have you had any instances of aggression or violence?”

“I chewed out my private investigatory team on a video call. Zach told me to get fucked and that he wouldn’t be calling back until I pulled my head out of my ass.”

“So aggression isn’t working out for you.”

“I know it won’t,” Lloyd protested. “But I can’t seem to stop it. There’s no coping in this house. I feel like I’m being chased by a ghost. Having Princess here makes it worse.”

The doctor nodded slowly. “Chased by a ghost….”

His words were neutral, but tinged with curiosity. Lloyd sighed.

“I remember being here and… what I did. I regret it.” A bitter laugh bubbled up out of nowhere, taking him off guard.

“Why is your regret amusing?” Dr. Blair asked.

Lloyd didn’t let himself consider his words before he spoke.

“Because there are so many other things I should regret. On the list of my wrongs, this isn’t even a crime. But it makes me feel like a monster more than any of those other things. To be in this house and know I’m the same person who was here, ten years ago, doing… that...”

“I know the story, Lloyd. It’s what you talked about under hypnosis.”

“Huh?”

Blair had never revealed the topics they’d discussed when Lloyd was hypnotized. It has been two and a half years and the topic had never come up. The doctor sat back and took off his glasses, twirling them by the earpiece.

“When I got your message and realized where you were, I had a feeling this was where the session would go.”

“What did I say under hypnosis?”

“That you scared yourself. That you were a monster. As I worked backwards, trying to understand the subconscious roots of that belief, you began telling me about the villa in Doha. It became clear that what happened there not only formed a core belief, but that event put the first real crack in your self-image. I would go as far as saying it planted the seed that led to your decision to rehabilitate.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Can you describe the events that transpired in that house ten years ago for me, right now?”

Silence hung in the air tense and heavy. He swallowed hard and felt his throat go dry. Rather than speak, he shook his head.

“I understand. You’ve always assigned the mental break you felt to being imprisoned. I agree it tore down your self-image and allowed you to change. But there was a much older crack in that image. One your conscious mind wouldn’t allow you to speak of.”

“Reva.”

Lloyd said the name and felt his eyes lower. His lips curled and pressed together as a wave of sadness draped itself around him.

“Is any of that anger you feel directed at Zach Hightower? Perhaps that’s what led to your outburst on the call?”

“No. He isn’t responsible for this. Zach may have kicked off the chain of events but I came here willingly.”

“No, you didn’t. You went because you felt like you had to keep up your image as a sadistic psychopath.”

Lloyd raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“You’re very honest in hypno-therapy. Can I ask you a very personal question?”

“Go for it.”

“Did you ever practice sexual sadism before your relationship with Reva?”

“No.”

“Did you enjoy it, as a fantasy or a daydream?”

“Not really. Mild stuff, I guess. But nothing I did in the field intersected with my sexual preferences.”

“Did you know that for certain?” Dr. Blair asked.

Lloyd hesitated. “I was afraid it would. Which is why I never experimented with it.”

“With sexual sadism? Or bondage entirely?”

“All of it. Bondage, dominance, sadism. Masochism never appealed. I’d have noticed pretty quickly if I had that kink, considering everything my father did to me.”

“Tell me more about the feeling of being haunted. You’ve used that as a metaphor in sessions before, but it’s coming across as more concrete, the way you’re describing it now.”

Lloyd sighed. “I feel like that person - me, ten years ago - is in the house with us. It’s as if he’s going to sneak up and jump on my back any minute.”

“That sounds dreadful.”

“It is.”

“Have you shared any of this with Princess?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because… we’re sleeping together. We aren’t in a relationship, it’s just as friends.”

Dr. Blair sat up. Lloyd could see his attention focus like a hawk sighting a mouse.

“And how has that affected your emotions?”

“It hasn’t.”

“Do you really think her presence doesn’t enhance your reaction?”

Lloyd rubbed his damp palms over his thighs. “Alright. Yes. You’re right. I wouldn’t find it as disturbing if I were alone. The fact that she’s here… it makes me… anxious.”

“Why?”

“What if I do to her what I did to Reva?”

“Is Princess open to sadism?” Dr. Blair asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t want to know!”

“Why not?”

“I can’t handle hearing that she is, so I don’t ask. I mean, she’s probably not. But on the off chance she is… I’m not sure I can do it.”

“Would you feel you had to, if she asked?”

“Yes.”

“Even though you feel so much guilt over torturing Reva? Despite her enjoyment of the scene?”

Goosebumps rose on Lloyd’s arms.

“I didn’t realize that my persona was a mask until Reva. I hadn’t suspected I wasn’t like my father, at least not sexually. There was no pleasure for me in her pain. Other people? Terrorists and criminals? That I could derive some enjoyment of. But my behavior was more about making sure everyone around me saw me as dangerous. That the mask kept them away.”

“That’s an interesting insight. Perhaps what you’re really afraid of here is that if Princess finds out about Reva, she’ll see behind the mask too.”

Lloyd’s breath caught. He felt lightheaded and distant, as if he’d been knocked out of his body.

“Fuck. What should I do?”

“The only way out of this is to cut straight to the core. Either you tell her the truth or you continue the downward spiral.”

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

Lloyd dragged himself up the stairs. He knew he wouldn’t get any sleep after a therapy session like that, but exhaustion was wearing him down. On the bright side, the exhaustion was slowing his restless thoughts. He counted it as a win.

You were sound asleep. He changed in the bathroom to avoid waking you. When he climbed into bed, you didn’t even stir. Lloyd stared at your features, relaxed in sleep. If he told you what he’d done, would you understand? Or would it would revolt you?

Would you be afraid? Reva was the only innocent person he’d tortured. She was also the only one who’d asked for the service… and had enjoyed it. He supposed that was the major difference. It had disturbed him to see pleasure on someone’s face instead of fear.

Lloyd pushed away the thoughts and focused on your face. He directed his thoughts to a more pleasant memory - his first time with you. Slowly, his muscles relaxed. He thought of you in the shower in Singapore, of the gentle way you’d touched him. He reveled in the memory. Blair was right. He should come clean and lay it all out there. Let the chips fall where they may.

Yeah, right.

There was a better chance of the Detroit Lions managing a double-digit winning streak than of him confessing. He’d rather suffer than lose you.

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

Next - Part XI

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