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duuhrayliegh · 3 years

Text

A Friend of Yours - pt. 2

pairing: bucky x reader

summary: reader meets up with Bucky, Sam and Zemo to figure out this Flag Smasher drama

word count: 6386

warnings: canon lvl violence? SPOILERS FOR TFATWS, (it’s the episodes with yn in it, like rlly) language throughout the whole thing, i think that’s it.

a/n: i’m actually really proud of this guys. there is a part three that has WAY more Bucky x YN content that’ll be posted in a few days <3 i hope y’all love this!!

i just want to remind y’all that this started out as a request from @dramaticwittch it won’t let me tag you for some reasons babes :((

be sure to read A Friend of Yours - pt 1

A Friend of Yours - pt. 3 is up too!!!

p.s.: my requests and tag lists are open!!

check out my other writing here!

xoxo ray <3

You had the same contacts as Sharon, so finding the Three Musketeers was no problem. It baffled you that Sharon had access to satellites. Makes you wonder what she was doing during those five years you were gone. When you got to their safehouse, you were impressed to say the least. It was nice, cute little pillars next to the dining area, some couches, just enough to make it livable. One thing that struck you as strange was that it was also empty, they weren’t there.

“Fuck it.” You dropped your bag onto the dining table and walked over to the kitchen area. You opened several cabinets, searching for alcohol that you could drown your frustrations in. You found an unopened wine bottle, releasing a little cheer, you popped the cork and brought the bottle to your nose. A sweet plum scent invaded your senses, grabbing a glass and pouring it full for yourself before re-corking the bottle. You grasped the cup walking to the stained glass windows on the opposite side of the room. You could hear footsteps approaching the doorway, then the door being forced open. Muffled conversations were taking place during their entrance.

“Well, I got nothin’. No one’s talkin’ about Donya.” Bucky said as he waltzed into the room. Sam followed closely behind him, Zemo immediately going to the kitchen.

“Yeah, Karli’s the only one who’s fighting for them.” You said, startling the pair of men who were now lounging on the couches. “Aren’t you supposed to be good at this?” You dropped next to Bucky, offering him a sip of your plum flavored wine.

“She’s not wrong.” Bucky shot Sam a look, questioning his thought process. “Look, for five years these people were welcomed into countries that have kept them out using barbed wire. There were houses and jobs.” Sam sighed, “Folks were happy to have people around to help them rebuild.” You stopped listening halfway through Sam’s speech, thinking of Sharon. You only refocused when Bucky placed his metal hand on your knee, giving you a look, asking if you were okay.

“That little girl. What’d she tell you?” Bucky asked after you nodded at him. His face never left yours, until Zemo approached the three of you on the couch. He was holding a tray with a clear teapot and cups. He placed it on the coffee table, stepping back and clutching a cup for himself.

“The funeral is this afternoon.” Zemo was always one for the dramatics, so you’re sure that he had something else up his sleeve. Bucky squeezed your knee and you knew he was trying to calm himself.

“You know the Dora’s coming for you any minute. In fact, they’re probably lurking outside right now. Keep talking.”

“Leaving you to turn on me once we get to Karli.” He made a noise of acknowledgement, “I prefer to keep my leverage.” Bucky hauled himself off the couch to stand in front of the Baron. You gaze flicked to Sam’s, unsure of what Bucky was going to do. Bucky puffed his chest out, clenching his jaw as he gripped Zemo’s teacup and chunked it at the concrete wall behind him. Zemo flinched as Bucky began talking to him.

“You wanna see what someone can do with leverage?” Sam stood quickly, trying to diffuse the situation before it escalated.

“Take it easy, Buck. Don’t engage him.” You were taking a drink of your wine, as you observed Zemo’s actions.

“Watch out, he’s going to extort you and do that idiotic head tilt thing.” Zemo’s eyes darted to your figure on the couch as he straightened his head. Sam left to make a call, you assumed Sharon and Bucky followed closely behind him. Zemo offered you cherry blossom tea to which you declined by holding up your wine glass. As Bucky left the room, the Baron released a sigh of relief causing you to laugh at his actions.

“You’re really scared of him, aren’t you?” You teased the man who was now glaring at you.

“If you have made him as angry as I have then you would be too.” You shrugged your agreement. You hadn’t made Bucky mad, and you definitely hadn’t been a part of reactivating him as the Winter Soldier to reach your goals.

“Yeah, well you’re a dumbass, so.” You got up and walked to where Bucky and Sam were gathered. Sam’s phone was still pressed to his ear, but you could tell you were catching the tail-end of his conversation. You could hear Sharon’s voice over the phone talking about the Power Broker. In all your years of living and conducting business in Madripoor, you never tangled with the Power Broker. That didn’t mean anything, it was just suspicious because of how successful your operation with Sharon was.

“What’s the plan?” You asked, dumping the rest of your wine in the sink, casting a glance at an appalled Zemo. “It was shit wine.”

“Zemo has a contact that can show us where the funeral is, and that’s all we got.” You nodded before looking at Bucky and Sam.

“Well, what are we waiting for?”

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

You were walking down the cobblestone roadway with the Three Musketeers when a voice shouted at you from the stairway before you. “Karli Morgenthau is too dangerous for you guys to be pulling this shit!” A scruffy looking man approached you. Both him and his partner were clad in tactical gear, the scruffy one’s resembling a Walmart version of Steve’s Cap suit. Bucky spread his arms out.

“How’d you find us now?” The man’s partner responded to Bucky with equal annoyance.

“Come on, man. You really think two Avengers can walk around Latvia without drawing attention?” As he got closer you could read Hoskins on his vest.

“No more keeping us in the dark.” Scruff said before anyone else could fire back. He stopped walking in front of Zemo, effectively stopping your forward motion. “You can start by telling us why you broke him out of prison.” You were walking just behind Bucky to his right and you watched him cock his head back, his voice taking on a sarcastic tone.

“He did that himself, technically.” Scruff’s face contorted as Bucky talked.

“This better be an unbelievable explana--” Scruff’s voice was cut off by Sam’s hand bumping into his chest.

“Hey, take it easy before it gets weird.” Zemo began talking over the group around him, explaining what was going on. You remained quiet, observing the interaction between Scruff and the Three Musketeers. Clearly, the Three Musketeers did not like him and so you assumed he was the ‘new Cap,’ whatever that means. The group began walking again with Zemo leading the pack.

“Alright good, we’ll move in fast. Take her by surprise.”

“No, I wanna talk to her alone.”

“I’m not losing her again.” Scruff was insistent but so was Sam.

“Look, the person closest to her just died, she’s vulnerable.” The group had stopped walking again, focusing on the conversation. You could see the wheels turning in Hoskin’s head as Sam spoke. Scruff was not having any part of what Sam was suggesting.

“What? No. Wait, no! No. Stop. Hold on. Stop, okay?” Scruff ran ahead in front of the others, stopping the forward motion, once again. “I think we’re way past reasoning with her, unless you forgot the fact that she blew up a building with people still in it.” This was news to you, deciding to stay offline in hopes of remaining under the radar. The back and forth continued until Scruff turned to Bucky.

“You gonna let him do this?” Bucky tilted his head at the man. “Are you gonna let your partner walk into a room with a Super Soldier alone?”

“He’s dealt with worse. And he’s not my partner.” You knew Bucky was referring to himself in Winter Soldier mode. Your heart hurt for him to have to go through this again with some clueless nobody.

“And last I checked, he’s a grown ass man who makes his own decisions, Scruff.” Your arms crossed over your chest. This had been the first time you spoke since Scruff and Hoskin’s had arrived.

“Who the hell is this?” Scruff pointed at you. “You break her out of prison too?” Sam interjected before you could sass back.

“I used to counsel soldiers dealing with trauma, okay? This is right in my wheelhouse.” Scruff’s gaze hadn’t left your face. He continued staring at you as he countered Sam’s claim.

“Yeah, I know. And I know those soldiers, which is why I know this is a bad idea.” Hoskin’s hand came up to rest on Scruff’s shoulder.

“Wait, John. If he can talk her down, it might be worth a try.” Scruff was not happy with Hoskin's agreement to the situation. Scruff said something to Zemo, who mostly ignored him, acknowledging the little girl waiting under an archway. The group began moving toward her and you focused on Bucky.

“Hey, you okay?” He just nodded at you, denying you the pleasure of a verbal response. You’ll take what you can get. Bringing up the rear of the group, you entered the factory type building last. The little girl pointed up some stairs, and Zemo translated. Sam walked up behind the girl, making him way up the stairs as Scruff handcuffed Zemo to a metal contraption.

“You got ten minutes. Then we’re doing things my way.” Scruff yelled after Sam, who darted his eyes at you and Bucky, a silent instruction to the both of you. Scruff rested his weight against a table, holding Steve’s shield in front of him. His breathing became increasingly worrisome, an ode to how stable he was in the moment.

“You aren’t looking so hot over there, Scruff.” Bucky shot you a warning look, but it didn’t deter you. “The government is really harping on you to get this shit contained, aren’t they?” Scruff pushed off the table, bringing the shield around his back. You were leaning against a pillar near Zemo and Scruff made his way over to you. His face was about six inches from yours as he spoke.

“Do you know who I am?” He was trying to intimidate you, which clearly wasn’t working.

“Do I look like I give a shit?” Scruff’s eyes darted over your frame, a look of recognition washing over his features.

“I know who you are.” He glanced at the clock across the room before looking back at you. “I could arrest you right now. Enemy of the State, standing before me right here.”

“We’re not in that state, dumbass. Technically, you don’t have jurisdiction.” The corner of your mouth raised in a smirk as Bucky called your name. You pushed off the pillar behind you to stand next to Bucky, who was leaning against the railing of the stairs.

“Don’t antagonize him, Y/N.” Bucky berated you, to which you shrugged a shoulder. Scruff began pacing back and forth, frustration getting the better of him.

“It hasn’t been ten minutes, John. Just sit tight.” Hoskin’s tried to calm Scruff down.

“Don’t do that. Don’t patronize me.” He shot a look at Hoskins, then the clock, then Bucky, making a decision in his head. “I’m goin’ in.” Bucky rose to his full height, not allowing Scruff to get by him. “This is all really easy for you, isn’t it? All that serum runnin’ through your veins.” You watched Bucky’s jaw clench, you could see the anger bottling up. “Barnes, your partner needs backup in there.” Bucky was an immovable fortress of solitude. “Do you really want his blood on your hands?” Oh shit.

You watched as Bucky’s resolve faded, allowing Scruff to step around him. Bucky was tired of being the cause of other people’s deaths. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust that Sam could take care of himself, he just didn’t want the burden any longer. He was finally free of being a murder machine, finally able to rinse his hands clean. Scruff knew just which buttons to push to get what he wanted.

Scruff busted into the memorial site, guns blazing. You trailed behind Bucky who was fighting against Hoskin’s to try to reach Scruff. Karli and Sam were previously engaged in peaceful conversation, until Scruff announced that Karli was under arrest. Betrayal laced her features as she looked at Sam, defending herself against Scruff advances. She threw Scruff’s weight into Sam, launching them both into the table behind. Bucky took off after her, chasing her through the halls. You crouched next to Sam, making sure he was okay.

Sam recovered quickly, racing down a different corridor leading to another stairway. You followed close behind, allowing Sam to attempt to navigate the area around you. The two of you eventually went down enough of the wrong corridors, that you met up with an equally confused Bucky. You head perked up at the sound of gunshots somewhere in the building. Not sure who the culprit was you turned to Bucky and Sam, who looked just as panicked.

The three of you retraced your steps to find Scruff standing over a knocked-out Zemo with crushed vials wetting the floor. Scruff tossed a glance back at Hoskins and then one to the three of you on the staircase landing. “What did we miss?” Sam directed his question at Scruff, who didn’t dignify him with an answer. Scruff nodded to Hoskins before walking away from the rest of you.

“Thanks for your help, asshole!” You shouted after him.

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

Hauling Zemo’s deadweight back to the safehouse was a job that you and Sam decided Bucky was fit for, being a super soldier and all. Through much complaining and whining on Bucky’s part, he did get him to the safehouse relatively injury free, dumping his body on the couch, jostling Zemo just enough to wake him up. Bucky promptly left the apartment after dropping Zemo off, going to clear his head was the explanation you got as he left.

You huffed, discontent with everything that was going on. You walked to the kitchen, wetting a rag and tossing it at Zemo. “For your head, cover your eyes, it’ll help.” You then popped a few cubes of ice in a glass and poured whiskey over it, handing it to Zemo as well, tapping your temple at him. You went back to the kitchen, jumping onto the counter, letting your legs dangle over the edge. Sam had pulled out a laptop and was typing furiously.

“Were you ever offered it?” You knew Zemo wasn’t talking to you, but to Sam, who hadn’t looked up from the laptop screen. You zoned out of their conversation, trying to decide what Sam was sending Sharon now. “Sam, you can’t hold out hope for Karli.” This made Sam pause and turn to face Zemo, who continued talking. “No matter what you saw in her, she’s gone. And we cannot allow that she and her acolytes become yet another faction of gods amongst real people.” Zemo removed the rag from his eyes, locking gazes with Sam. “Super Soldiers cannot be allowed to exist.”

“Isn’t that how god’s talk?” You interjected, then you asked quietly, “And if that’s how you feel, what about Bucky?” It was a valid concern. “Blood isn’t always the solution.” Bucky waltzed into the apartment, stripping his jacket from his shoulders, giving a perfect view of his two contrasting arms.

“Something’s not right about Walker.”

“You don’t say.” Sam quipped, closing his laptop and facing Bucky.

“Well, I know a crazy when I see one. Because I am crazy.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

“Shouldn’t have given him the shield.” Bucky jabbed at Sam, sticking to his guns on this.

“I didn’t give him the shield.” Sam was exasperated in his delivery.

“Well, Steve definitely didn’t.” You turned to Bucky.

“Hey. Back off, Buck.” Bucky was going to say something in reply when the door burst open again. In walked Scruff and Hoskins, all gung-ho about something.

“Alright. That’s it. Let’s go.” He pointed a finger at a now standing Zemo. The whole room began shifting, Sam in front of Scruff, Zemo to the side out of direct view, and Bucky to your other side, glass in hand. “I’m now ordering you to turn him over.” Sam stopped before Scruff, annoyed.

“Let’s be clear, shield or no shield, the only thing you’re runnin’ in here is your mouth.” You added from your spot on the countertop. Scruff pointed his finger at you.

“And I’m taking her too.” Bucky stepped in front of you, blocking Scruff’s view of you. You placed your hand on his left shoulder, letting him know you were still there.

“I had Karli and you overstepped. He’s actually proven himself useful today. We’re gonna need all hands on deck for whatever’s comin’ next.” Scruff puffed out his chest, attempting to intimidate Sam.

“How do you want this conversation to go Sam, huh?” He stepped back slightly, “Should I put down the shield? Make it fair?” Taking on a condescending tone with Sam, making your brows raise. Suddenly a spear lodged itself in the pillar next to Scruff’s face, all eyes darted towards the woman across the room. Two more warriors walked in, holding spears by their sides and Bucky looked resigned. This was new territory for you, who the fuck are these people? One of the women stepped forward near Scruff. She spoke at Bucky in a language that sounded vaguely familiar to you.

“Release him to us now.” Scruff ignored her instruction, deciding to step towards her, holding his hand out for her to shake.

“Hi. John Walker. Captain America.” You scoffed loudly.

“No, you’re not!” You received a look from Sam at your comment.

“Let’s put down the pointy sticks and we can talk through this, huh?” Sam stepped forward, warning Scruff against tangling with the Dora Milaje.

“The Dora Milaje don’t have jurisdiction here.”

“The Dora Milaje have jurisdiction wherever the Dora Milaje find themselves to be.” Your hand balled into a fist, quickly covering your mouth.

“That’s a burn, Scruff!” You yelled like the little shit you are.

“Y/N! Cut it out.” Sam snapped. Scruff, for some reason, thought it was a good idea to place hands on the Dora he was speaking to. She quickly brought her spear up to force his hand off her shoulder, then bringing it downward into the back of his knee and finally bouncing it off of the front of his helmet. She launched her foot into his chest while he was dazed, sending him backward into the spear behind him and face planting on the ground below. Scruff recovered quickly, sliding his arm into the straps of the shield to protect himself from the spear coming at his body.

The three warriors began fighting with Scruff and Hoskins, much to yours and Bucky’s delight. Sam backed up to stand next to Bucky, who crossed his arms over his chest. Sam looked at Bucky.

“We should do something.” You had just barely heard Sam say it when you and Bucky yelled at the same time.

“Looking strong, John!” “You’re doing great, sweetie!” Bucky gave you a look at your term of endearment, not understanding that it was a patronizing use of the word. The warrior battling Scruff was about to drive her spear into him, until Bucky gripped the handle, stopping her attack.

“Ayo!” Bucky yelled at her. “Ayo! Let’s talk about this!” Ayo had effectively yanked Bucky towards her body, then throwing him backwards. Sam stopped another warriors spear before it drove into a downed Hoskins. The last warrior threw her spear at Scruff, trapping the shield against the table. She began her approach to him and Sam yelled your name to help him.

You got down with a groan, unhappy that you had to save this asshat. All movement was stopped when you heard a metallic thud against the floor. Your head snapped to a now one armed Bucky, his vibranium arm laying on the ground. You released an audible gasp as Ayo walked away from Bucky, his blue eyes wide. Everything around you faded as you watched a broken Bucky, kneel to pick up his metal appendage. Your eyes flicked to Sam, who was just as shocked as you.

“Did you know they could do that?” Sam gestured to Bucky’s immobile arm.

“No.” He swung his arm around once to restart the systems. You heard Hoskins checking on Scruff’s wounded ego, but that didn’t matter to you.

“Bucky. Are you okay?” He avoided your question, grabbing his jacket and telling Sam that Zemo had gotten away. You held your arms out in front of you, what the fuck? Are you the enemy now? You followed after them, not sure where you were going. You got closer to Bucky, grabbing his left arm and yanking him back to you, making his attention be on you for a second or two. “I’m talking to you, dickwad.” His eyes hardened as you continued. “I don’t know what the fuck just happened back there, I’m assuming that has to do with you not being the Soldier anymore. I don’t really care. What I care about is if you’re okay or not.” You stopped walking, still holding his arm.

“What do you want from me, Y/N?” Bucky inquired.

“I want you to fucking talk to me. I’m here for you to unload on.” His brows scrunched and you realized what you said. “Oh my god, not like that, sicko. Well, I mean--”

“Y/N.” Bucky smiled at your humor.

“There, see? How hard was it for you to smile. Just talk to me. I’m making sure you’re okay. Don’t shut down, I hate it when people do that.” Bucky went to say something else when the both of your attentions shifted to a concerned Sam.

“She said what?” A pause, “Right. Hold on, hold on. I know, I know.” He sighed loudly, “Listen, pack an overnight bag and take the boys.” He tried to calm the other person down. You began walking again, Bucky asking quietly.

“What happened?” Sam dropped the phone to his collarbone.

“Karli called Sarah. She threatened my nephews.” Bringing it back up to his ear, he continued. “Go somewhere safe. Only pay cash, alright? Let me know when you get there.” You turned your attention to your surroundings. The bland streets offered little to no security, but they did give too many vantage points to count. “She wants me to come alone.”

“I’m coming with you.” Bucky fired back, not changing his mind about this one.

“Yay, more friends. She’ll love that. Where we going now?”

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

You’ve never seen Sam as mad as he was when he walked into that building. Although you weren’t sure if it was anger or if it was betrayal that he was displaying as he climbed the stairs to the second floor. “You called my sister? That’s how we’re gonna play this?”

“Sam, I would never hurt her. I just wanted to understand you better.” Her accent shone through with every word. You could tell that she didn’t want to hurt you. Her demeanor was relaxed, her guard was up, but she was being civil, almost like a politician. You were good at analyzing the people around you, so when Karli mentioned Sam and Bucky just being tools she really meant it. She wasn’t interested in hurting people she deemed innocent.

“Hey, Sam, new Cap is moving, looks like he’s found them, or maybe they found him.” Sharon’s voice snapped you back to reality. The two of you hadn’t spoken since you left Madripoor.

“Scruff’s coming, guys and you know it’s not going to be pretty when he does.” Bucky jumped over the ledge and Karli followed suit. Jumping into Bucky, slamming his body into the post. You ran alongside Bucky to the location Sam had sent to your phone. By the time that you had gotten to the building where Scruff was, you had lost Bucky. Taking an entrance that was already knocked open you heard gunshots from a few floors above you. With your gun raised, you scanned the room for any friendlies.

“Y/N, you’re about to come up on Hoskins. He’s not moving, may need an assist.” Your brows furrowed as you entered the room cautiously.

“How the hell do you know that, Shar? How did you get access to satellites?” You questioned as you approached a tied-up Hoskins. “Need some help, Battlestar?”

“I totally had that.” He said as your knife snapped the zip tie around his wrists.

“Yeah, yeah.” You held your hand out, hauling him to his feet. “It’s okay to be the damsel, ya know?” He shook his head at you, not engaging in your hilarious banter. “Jeez, who pissed in your Cheerios.” You shoved your knife back into your thigh holster, leading the way to where the others were.

When you walked in, Bucky had just caught a knife that Scruff had so deflected. He twirled the object in his right hand, ready to defend against the Flag Smasher attacking him. Their fight was quick and ended with the Smasher on their back, the knife Bucky was holding embedded in the floor inches away from their face. You jumped in, helping Sam fend off another Smasher when suddenly Bucky’s fist flew by your face.

“You’re welcome.” He darted off to deal with the others. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Scruff being held by a Smasher and Karli coming with a knife in hand. You started towards her to stop her, until you saw Hoskins attack from her other side. He tackled her to the ground, Karli bounced back quicker than Hoskins, allowing her to throw a punch at Hoskins. Your jaw dropped as you watched his body fly into the concrete mainstay behind him. His whole body slackened and Karli stood in shock.

Scruff was struggling in his captors hold, thrashing about to get to Hoskins. Once he was free, he shook Hoskins and pushed his fingers against his neck, checking for a pulse. “Hey, hey. Hey. Lemar!” You stood silent in between Bucky and Sam, unsure of what to do. It wasn’t until Scruff stood again that you knew what he was going to do. He had a half-second head start, but it was long enough that he was able to reach the Samsher that was holding him back before you could reach Scruff.

You had to push through the crowd to see what was happening. The Smasher had his hands protecting his face against the slam of the Captain America shield that was being hammered into him. You gasped and had to turn your face into Bucky’s shoulder. This is not happening, but it was.

And the whole world saw it too.

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

The next time you saw Scruff was in an abandoned warehouse. He was talking to himself, yelling about different things. If you weren’t sure before, you definitely were now. John Walker had taken the serum and it was enhancing all the wrong things. Scruff was kneeling, resting his hands on the bloodied shield before him. You were on Sam’s right when Scruff walked up to you.

“You guys should see a medic. You don’t look too good.” He paced in front of the three of you. “You saw what happened. You know what I had to do. I killed him because I had to! He killed Lemar!”

“He didn’t kill Lemar, John.” Bucky’s voice remained calm. “Don’t go down that road. Believe me, it doesn’t end well.” Scruff sent Bucky a disgusted look.

“I’m not like you.”

“You convincing yourself or us, Scruff?” You recognize that this probably isn’t the time to pull his strings but he wasn’t thinking clearly anyway.

“Listen, it was the heat of battle. Okay? If you explain what happened, they may consider your record. We don’t want anyone else to get hurt.” Scruff never stopped pacing, his hand flexing in the shield.

“You gotta give Sam the shield, Scruff.” He stopped pacing and turned to you, getting a little close for comfort.

“Oh, so that’s what this is.” He leaned forward, “You almost got me.” His index finger jabbed into your chest then rested there as he spoke. “You don’t wanna do this.”

“Yeah, we do.” Came Bucky’s reply before all hell broke loose. Bucky and Sam rushed Scruff, fighting for a way to get the shield from him. Scruff sent Sam flying backwards with a swift kick to the stomach. This gave you the room you needed to launch yourself onto his shoulders, attempting to flip him using his own body weight and your momentum. Your move distracted him enough that Bucky got a few decent hits in, but it really just served to piss him off further. He whipped one arm around, gripping the waistband of your jeans and dumping your weight off his shoulders. He threw you into a wooden shipping container, knocking all of the air out of your lungs.

You watch, as you lay there gasping, Bucky get beat to his knees by Scruff and Scruff’s attention is turned by Sam flipping in the air, kicking the shield to the side. You rose to your feet, readying yourself for the opportune moment. Once you found it, you flung yourself at Scruff, sending the both of you to the ground and the shield away from the both of you. You resituated yourself to straddle his stomach, this position didn’t last long because he flipped the both of you. Slamming your back against the ground, he gripped your wrists, yanking them way up high causing you to groan out at the stretch. He released you but not before delivering a swift punch to your cheek.

Your vision blurred, but you could make out Bucky going head to head with Scruff again. Scruff threw the shield at Bucky after kicking him into a lift. Luckily, Bucky was able to catch the shield and shift it to his own arm before Scruff attacked him again. Scruff pressed the shield tight against Bucky’s body, then began speaking to him.

“Why are you making me do this?” You and Sam shared a look then watched as Scruff tossed Bucky clear across the room into an electrical outlet, short circuiting his arm. Sam flew at Scruff, trying to catch him off guard. He was unsuccessful in his efforts, ending with Sam facing Scruff as you crouched in Scruff’s six.

“This isn’t you, John.” Sam began trying to reason with him. He is who is way past reasoning, not Karli. Scruff’s head tilted as he spoke in that condescending tone again.

“We could’ve been a team.” Sam didn’t say anything. He deployed his wings, flying past Scruff and sending a small grappling hook to try and take the shield. Scruff flipped through the air, then braced himself against one of the lifts. You came up from behind him and tackled him off the lift, sending Sam to the ground as well. As you landed, you hit your head on a piece of broken concrete, disorienting you. The shield was out of Scruff’s hands, and he wasn’t happy about that. They both dove for the shield but Scruff managed to get to Sam first, landing on top of Sam.

“I am Captain America.” Scruff grunted out as he ripped Sam’s wings from his suit. You watch in horror as Scruff holds the shield, ready to give Sam a face lift. Bucky knocked Scruff off just before he could land his hit. Scruff had pinned Bucky to the ground after driving Bucky’s head into the side of the shield. You hauled yourself to your feet again, wrapping your arm around Scruff’s neck, hindering his movement. Sam came from the front, delivering a harsh blow to Scruff’s face. You continued to hold your chokehold as Bucky and Sam pried the shield off his arm. You heard a sickening crack as Sam withdrew from the hoe down. Bucky rose to his feet and spit out the blood collecting in his mouth, reaching out his hand for you to take.

You walked over to Sam, you hoped that would be the end of it all. Lo and behold though, Scruff got up yet again. “It’s mine.” He growled possessively, starting towards Bucky again. Bucky ducked lifting Scruff over his shoulder and Sam threw his whole body weight into Scruff who was dangling off to the side of Bucky. The three of them laid on the floor, bloodied and sweaty as you stood over them.

Bucky rose to his knees, the shield in front of him and he used the leverage of it to stand fully. He dropped it next to Sam, pausing for a few seconds and then walking away completely. You stood next to Scruff, in disbelief. “This just got a whole lot more complicated didn’t it, Sam?” He didn’t reply to you, but you watched as he tried to wipe the blood off the outer rings of the shield.

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

You stood outside the building where Donya’s funeral was held, listening to Sam talk to someone else named Torres. Bucky had walked right past you, not a word said. He was shutting down and running away, at least that’s what it looked like. You wouldn’t know because the whore wouldn’t talk to you. You sat down on the stairs, head in your hands frustrated about what was going on. Your phone began buzzing in your pocket, so you took it out ready to deny the call, until you saw who it was.

“Shar.” You sighed into the phone speaker.

“Y/N. How’s it going?” You could hear the smugness lacing her tone.

“Alright, just get it over with. Tell me that you told me so, just make it quick.” She scoffed.

“I mean, I did tell you so, but now I don’t want to tell you that I did.” You laughed at her.

“You realize you just did, though?” You sense that she was smiling.

“What happened?” Her tone switched into a serious one on a dime.

“Walker took the serum, went batshit, killed a Flag Smasher, and then beat the shit out of Sam, Bucky and me in order to keep his precious shield because he ‘is Captain America.’” Your voice morphed to imitate Scruff.

“Well, that was bound to happen sometime. He’s all over the place.” You nodded, pulling the phone away from your ear and switching to speakerphone so you could talk and scroll through Twitter.

“He’s already trending. Captain America Kills Innocent Man, what a great headline. You know the worst part about all of this, Shar?” You switched the speakerphone off, bringing it back to your ear. “I don’t even think that Karli is in the wrong here. She’s doing what she’s doing for good reason, she’s just doing a shit job of getting her point across.”

“Yeah, well she’s becoming a pain in everyone’s asses, so that puts her on everyone’s shit list.” Sharon took a deep breath before continuing. “You need to get out of there. I know you’re not technically in the States, or alive, but you know how the government is. They’ll find a way to get you, if they want you.” She was lecturing you out of love, you knew, but it was frustrating for you still.

“Can you not trust that I know what I’m doing?” A grunt released from her end of the phone. “No, seriously Shar. We grew up the same, went through all the same training, what makes you know so much better than me?” Deep down, you knew that wasn’t what she meant, but you had always felt second best when it came to Sharon.

“It’s not that you don’t know what you’re doing.” She sighed heavily. “It’s that you were gone for five years and things have changed. Governments have become stricter and you don’t understand that they aren’t the same as they were.” You remained quiet, expecting her to say something else. “That’s why it’s good you have me because I know how they work.”

“You know how they work, do you?” You were fed up with her. “Then explain to me how you have access to satellites, Sharon. That’s not something that you just happen upon.” Your tone was accusatory. “Are you working for the Power Broker behind my back?” You heard a sharp intake of air on her end. “I swear to God, Sharon. We promised each other we wouldn’t work for that asswipe. He’s involved in too much bad shit. If the US government were to ever find out that we were working for the Power Broker, they wouldn’t grant us pardons, Shar. Did you fuck this up for us?”

“I didn’t fuck anything up and you need to check your tone when you’re talking to me.” Your brows shot to your hairline.

“The fuck did you just say to me?”

“You heard me. We need to work this shit out. I didn’t fuck anything up and neither will you if you come back to Madripoor right now.” You were shocked, Sharon had never talked like this to you.

“I really don’t think I would be comfortable being somewhere that I’m clearly not welcome anymore, so I’m going to stick with what I know.” Sharon began backtracking as you resigned yourself to being on your own for the first time in forever. “Goodbye, Sharon.” You ended the call and shoved your phone into the pocket of your jeans.

You dropped your head into your hands in defeat. Being on your own was daunting and you weren’t sure how Sharon survived without you well enough to grow your business all on her own. You tried to think of your next move, deciding that sticking with Sam would be your best bet. He’s the easiest to guess where he’s going since Bucky has been mentally MIA towards you.

You recalled Sam mentioning his sister and nephews, thinking he would go there to check on them. You hauled yourself out of your slump and to Zemo’s apartment to collect your things before going. You were going all in if you were going to do this, so why the fuck not?

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

@londonalozzy @marvelofwitch @dramaticwittch @hellmoonsin @jn-wolf @youcancallmeishita @iabrokengirl @veroxloki @liveloudwriteloud @lainternettuale @angelofthetrenchcoats @rosiahills22 @peachymichu @sj-ficrecs @learisa @itsyagirl01 @simply-me-xoxo @ghoststudyy @taina-eny @japanrecs @sinfulhun-collapsedheart @isaordora @shutupstevie @sprsoldierfics @beachbabe925

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victoria-daydreams · 4 years

Text

Something’s Gotta Give

Chapter Three: Tea for Two

AN: Honestly, I should be asleep as I post this chapter, but if I delay this any longer I think I might rip my hair out (not really). If there are any mistakes, I’m sorry, it’s 3am and I’m bleary eyed. Anyways, thank you to everyone who has supported this story! I really didn’t think anyone would enjoy it but myself.

Chapter Four: A Frightful Dinner

Summary: What should’ve been a fun and simple dinner between Livia and Booker takes a dark turn when she discovers a startling secret about him.

Having a cup of tea with each other became a weekly ritual for Booker and I.

And from tea, sometimes we swap over to coffee, where I discovered that Booker makes the best coffee known to man. He always made my cup of coffee sweet, rich, creamy, and added a dash of cinnamon to top it off. It's so perfect, I'll never look at coffee served in cafes the same anymore. Regardless of the beverage we were drinking, Booker and I always made sure to bring food for our little get-togethers. When its my turn to bring the food, I usually buy pastries like eclairs, macrons, pain au chocolat, etc. I couldn't help myself, I've got quite the sweet tooth which Booker commented on clearly amused once he noticed the trend. While Booker opted to bring sandwiches and quiches, which were a lot healthier than my choices.

At first, our little “tea parties”, as I liked to call them always took place in my apartment, but as the weeks passed and Booker grew more and more comfortable with me, he invited me to his apartment for the first time for a cup of coffee. To my surprise, when I entered Booker's apartment, it was not shrouded in darkness like I previously believed, the space was actually well lit.

Unless, he had the lights on and blinds opened for my benefit.

But you know what, I wasn't going to complain about it. The mere fact that Booker felt he could trust me by letting me into his personal space brought me indescribable joy. Each week over tea or coffee, a new subject was discussed. One week it's about books, the next about traveling, the following about daily life, and so on. Truly, it was a very gratifying experience to see how our relationship had blossomed. Not too long ago it felt like I had to pull teeth to get Booker to speak to me or I had to decipher his body language to determine if he was even comfortable speaking to me.

But now, conversations between us flowed naturally.

However, I have noticed that other things have changed between Booker and I. Well, at least for me it has. As of late, I would feel my heart start racing and beat like thunder whenever I would spend time with him. I would find myself studying Booker's features instead of listening to what was coming out his mouth. My eyes would move from down his nose, across his cheeks, around his jaw line, and at his lips. Heat would always flush my face and down to my neck when Booker called my name to snap me out of my daydream.

I couldn't help it, from the jump I said the man was handsome, but I didn't think I would catch feelings for him.

It certainly didn't help that our hands would innocently brush against each other when doing simple tasks, for example, doing the dishes together. Or the way he would lightly place his hand on my mid-back to usher me into his apartment after we've came back from the market. I always felt like I was set aflame every time Booker and I made contact with each other. I began to wonder if Booker had caught onto my growing feelings for him, he hadn't said anything or treated me differently. But, at times I would feel Booker's gaze linger on me when he was supposed to be reading, like the time when I was detangling my hair or when I was drawing in my sketchpad.

There's also the fact that Booker brought me flowers one day when we were having tea. They were roses, yellow roses to be specific. He told me the roses reminded him of me because of their warmth. And don't get me wrong, I damn near gushed over the beautiful, sun-colored bouquet of roses because I hadn't received such a gift in god knows when, but I also had mixed feelings about the flowers. Yellow roses symbolize friendship and I was left wondering one single question.

Did Booker just politely friend zone me?

~~~x~~~

"When I invited you over for dinner I was hoping you would actually help me make it," Booker quipped, looking over his shoulder.

I chuckled a little, "Hmm," I hummed, as popped the last bit of cracker that had fromage fort spread across it. "It seemed like you had everything under control," I replied, a smile on my face.

If someone had told me that by the end of this day I would be having dinner with Booker, I would tell them they were crazy, hell I might even laughed at them. Having a cup of tea with Booker is one thing, but to eat dinner together, it's different, more intimate. When Booker invited me over, I had just finished putting away groceries and was about to make dinner myself, but in stepped Booker. It was quite adorable when he asked to have dinner with him, in my opinion. He was clearly nervous, he stumbled over his words a few times. Whether it was because Booker is still a slightly reserved man, which meant doing this was uncharted territory for him or it was the possibility that he also had feelings for me was unclear.

I hoped for the latter.

"Do I now?" Booker asked, turning around and folding his arms across his chest.

My grin widened, "Undoubtedly," I said, with a laugh.

Feeling a bit of cheese on the corner of my mouth, I took my thumb and wiped it off before placing the speck of cheese onto my lips. Booker's eyes darted down to my lips and I had to force myself to keep a straight face as I felt a slight increase in my heart beat from Booker’s lingering gaze.

"Maybe it was just involuntary," I thought.

I picked up my wine glass, "But since you're begging me so much, I guess I have no choice but to help," I joked, standing up from the kitchen chair and taking a sip of the dry wine.

Booker faced the counter again, "Your kindness knows no bounds Livia," he deadpanned, resuming his work on slicing the mushrooms up.

I walked up to him and placed my hand on the back of shoulder, at first his body tensed before his muscles relaxed.

"What would you like me to do Chef Booker?" I questioned, my lips curving into a smile.

He rolled his eyes at the title, but still a smirk made its way onto his face, "Can you chop the broccoli please?" he asked, motioning to the vegetable to the side of him.

"Gladly," I replied, removing my hand from him and placing my glass down.

I moved over to the sink and turned the faucet on, pumping soap into my hands I placed them underneath the warm water, giving them a good scrub. Drying my hands on a towel placed on the sink, I took my place next to Booker and began chopping the stalk of broccoli.

"In the month and a half that I've known you, I've noticed a difference in you,” I stated, still cutting the broccoli up.

Booker glanced over at me, "Like what?" he asked curiously, dumping the mushrooms into a pan on the stove.

"Well for one, you don't look so haggard," I commented, placing my knife down and picking up the cutting board.

"Haggard?" Booker repeated, breathing out a laugh. "Wow, Livia," he chuckled, taking the board from my hands and tipping the broccoli into in the pan as well.

"Wait, let me finish!" I said, laughing myself now. "There's a glow to your skin. I can sense a newfound joy in you, an emotion that you believed would never return," I continued, and from the corner of my eyes I saw Booker still. "And your eyes," I breathed, shaking my head. "Your eyes always conveyed to me of a man who lives in silent misery. Your eyes would say what your mouth would not," I explained, my voice taking on a softer tone. "But now, I can see a small shine, a little glimmer twinkling in your eyes," I finished, turning my head slightly to look at Booker, who seemed to be stock still.

Silence swept over the small room, apart from the sounds of the vegetables in the pan sizzling and the wind outside softly rustling the colorful leaves on the trees. My heart began hammering in my chest, the elongated silence from Booker made me nervous. God, I hope I didn't say anything that offended him.

I cleared my throat and brushed the bangs of my hair away from eyes, "I don't know, maybe I've been reading too many of those poems you suggested," I guessed, chuckling while shaking my head.

A warm, rough hand covered the top of mine and my head snapped up to look at Booker.

"I guess, it's kind of hard to remain gloomy when you have a neighbor that is the personification of a ray of sunshine, annoyingly persistent as she may be," Booker teased, looking down at me with sincereness in his eyes and a small smile gracing his lips.

I playful bumped his arm with my own, "You love it though," I teased back, sticking my chin out.

"I do," he agreed softly, stroking his thumb back and forth across my hand.

The gesture sent shivers down my spine and goosebumps raised on my arms. Booker's exquisite blue eyes were locked with my rich brown orbs. The proximity between us was making it hard to breathe, all Booker had to do was lean his head down a little further and—let me not get ahead of myself.

"More wine?" I squeaked out, trying to regain my breath subtlety.

Booker smirked, almost as if he knew the effect he had on me, "I would love some," he answered, giving my hand a squeeze before removing it to work on the garlic bulbs.

I turned around, a grin on my face as I held my hand against my chest. I made my way back over to kitchen table, a slight spring in my step, to where a bottle of unopened wine was located. Grabbing the corkscrew, I jammed it into the top of the bottle and began twisting the knob a few times until the familiar and gratifying loud pop of a wine bottle being uncorked echoed throughout the room. It startled me, but at the same time a satisfied smile grew on my face until I heard Booker swear loudly behind me. Immediately, I placed the bottle down and turned around to see little red droplets dripping from Booker's fingers and onto the floor.

"Oh my god Booker!" I exclaimed, rushing to his side.

"It's nothing Livia!" he insisted, cradling his bloody hand as he moved towards the sink.

"Nothing?" I repeated, disbelief clear in my face. I moved in front of him and grabbed his wrist to show him the severity of his wound. "Booker, your palm is split wide open!" I pointed out, my tone turning frantic "We need to go to the hospital!" I stated, releasing his wrist and turning around to grab the towel from the sink.

"Livia-"

"Here!" I began, spinning back around to face Booker. "Use the towel to...." I instructed, but slowly trailed off as my eyes widened at what I was witnessing.

My breath began to quicken, becoming shallow as I watched the skin on Booker's palm draw itself back together. The towel fell limply from my hand and onto the floor with a soft thud. Slowly, I raised my hand and covered my mouth in horror as I watched tendon by tendon mend itself, and at that moment I felt my stomach lurch and a strong wave of nausea hit, forcing me to place a hand on my stomach in order to calm it down. The deep laceration on Booker's palm inexplicably became a mere scratch before the scratch itself simply disappeared.

As if Booker never injured himself in the first place.

"What the hell!" I whispered, my eyes still glued to Booker's his hand. The image of his palm knitting itself back together flashed in my mind, making me slightly gag. I lifted my eyes to Booker's who's face had gone ashen and was contorted with unease. "What the hell was that?" I asked, my voice once again not above a whisper, but the panic laced through the question couldn't be clearer.

"Livia, I can explain," Booker stated slowly, reaching his bloody hand out to me and taking a small step in my direction.

My eyes slightly widened again and I recoiled backwards, my back running into the cupboard. I tightly gripped the counter as I watched Booker's shoulders deflate like a balloon losing air, hurt was evident in his eyes at my reaction to him and a sad frown formed on his face. The silence was deafening in Booker's apartment, the only thing I could hear was the blood pounding in my ears. I slid my body along the cupboard, reaching down to snatch my coat from the chair that was next to it.

"I-I need t-to go," I announced shakily, avoiding Booker's stare.

Hurriedly, I moved to the door and made haste of the lock on the door, nearly yanking the door of its hinges as I left.

"Livia, wait!" Booker called, and I thought I heard movement behind me. "Please!" He pleaded.

My hands fumbled around in my coat pocket for my keys, but finally managing to grab them. I nearly sprinted towards my door even though it was only a short distance away. My hands trembled as I inserted the key into my door and jerked the key hard, twisting the doorknob and pushing my door open. I entered my apartment straight away and as I went to shut the door I paused, glancing at the apartment door across from me. Out of nowhere, the sound of glass shattering across the hall made me jump back, causing the door to slam shut louder than I intended it to. I slid the deadbolt lock into place and did the same with the bottom lock, leaning my forehead against the door, closing my eyes.

I flipped around with my back against the door, slowly I slid down the door and covered my face with my hands.

"What the fuck did I just see unfold in Booker's apartment?"

Chapter Five: Avoidance

#the old guard #the old guard fanfiction #old guard fanfiction #black fanfiction #black original character #black!oc #black!female character #booker #sebastien le livre #old guard #booker x oc #booker x reader #the old guard imagine

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groovybaybee · 4 years

Text

Greener - IV

I, II, III

(4k)

cw: mentions of abuse (nothing too intense but better safe than sorry), alcohol consumption

I am in the ocean. The water is warm and comforting as it hugs up against me with each gentle wave. It is calm and peaceful and in turn I am calm. I am in the ocean and I am calm.

You’re in your kitchen.

“Fuck off,” I whisper, eyes squeezed tightly shut as if they could shield me from the reality of the voice in my head.

I am in the ocean.

BUZZ

I ignore it.

I am in—

BUZZ

With a deep exhale, I open my eyes and face the brutal reality that the unkind voice lingering in my brain had been right. I am in my kitchen. The bright smiling faces tacked to the walls seem to mock me as I desperately try to regulate the rise and fall of my chest. My lungs unaware that I am not in the middle of a hundred-metre sprint and can probably relax a little.

Against my better judgment, I pick up the phone that had caused me to spiral in the first place. Quickly, I close Twitter, wishing I had never let myself fall down the thread of comments. I had known it would only cause me to panic but, almost masochistically, I did it anyway.

Thought I was supposed to be the one organising collaborations with big artists?? Nice work kiddo. Response to the video is pretty good so I can look into booking some studio sessions…

My focus falls away from my manager’s message. Of course, he saw this as a positive thing. It is a positive thing, really. Only a crazy person would find discomfort in their dream career being boosted along. This is the kind of thing I have always wanted. I want to make music. I want to have people see me and connect with me. But now that the opportunity is there all that I feel is fear.

You always were ungrateful.

For once, I do not try to argue with the bad part of my brain. I am ungrateful. How could someone get what they want and find reasons to still be the victim? I do not deserve any of this. How could I, in the sea of so many, be lucky enough to find traction in this industry? Yet all I want to do is run.

It is not even as though all of the new feedback is negative. To a degree, it would be understandable to want to run away were that the case. No, people were actually incredibly supportive of Harry and I’s impromptu duet. Complimentary even. I should be jumping for joy, but instead I find myself clutching for the countertop beneath me to tether me to the Earth.

Instinctively, I reach for my phone again, quickly dialling the first number I can think to.

“Hello lovely lady,” Lucy answers brightly.

“Luce,” I gasp, mouth remaining open but unable to find the words as my throat seems to tighten up.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, suddenly serious and I can picture her sat bolt upright. When I can’t formulate a reply, she speaks for me, “Are you at home? I’ll come over.”

“Yeah.” I manage to breathe out.

Time seems to warp as I listen to the background noise of Lucy buckling herself into her car and taking the short trip to my house. Only when I hear her set of keys in the lock do I hang up the call, something about her presence comforting me even through the phone.

“Let’s sit down, yeah?” Lucy says when she sees my face, undoubtedly wide-eyed as gravely breathes pass quickly between my lips.

She places a hand on my back and eases me away from the counter until my body meets the soft embrace of the sofa.

“Count to ten with me?”

Her voice is gentle and reassuring as she watches me, no doubt assessing how severe my state is and which battleplan she needs to access in order to help me calm down.

When I nod, she waits for me to utter a shaky and broken, “One,” before repeating it and moving from the sofa.

“Two,” she encourages.

She opens a window and moves back to the kitchen, returning with a glass of water as I reach “Four.”

We count together until we reach ten. Not unlike the other times we have done this, she waits for a moment as she observes if I need to start again, or if I am suitably calm enough for her to move on to the next step in her care plan. Deciding on the latter, she passes me the glass of water.

Gratefully, I take a slow sip.

“Want to talk or want distracting?”

“I feel…” I start quietly, uncertain as a sigh passes my lips, “I feel ungrateful and a bit overwhelmed.”

Lucy just nods. No judgment in her gaze as she digests my words. They dissipate into the air of the living room, sinking into the furniture and slipping under the tape of the unopened moving box in the corner.

“Is this about the video? Because if it is I’m so sorry for posting it, I just thought you two sounded so good and fit so great together and maybe you’d get a bit more recognition which you deserve completely and—”

“Lu,” I sigh with a small smile as she rambles apologetically. I pull her into a hug which neither of us expect. “I love you so much. You always know what’s right and you go out and do it. I’m just a bit batshit at the minute and can’t accept the good in things.”

“I love you.” Lucy mutters into my hair.

We sit for a while, arms wrapped tightly around one another, swaying slightly. Neither of us want to be the first to move, simultaneously needing to provide comfort and bathe in it. A smile fixes itself on my lips, one Lucy has always been capable of coaxing from me, even during my worst nights. But that is exactly the reason the smile carves its way on to my cheeks; it’s us. It has always been Lucy and me and it will be Lucy and me until our arms can’t hug and our lungs can’t laugh.

“I think,” I say softly, resentfully pulling away from our embrace, “it’s time to go through his stuff.”

Lucy nods, eyes a little watery. She sniffles once and that is enough to settle her.

“Shall I get wine?”

I cannot help the small bubble of laughter that bursts between my lips, but I nod, nonetheless. We move to set about our own tasks; Lucy gets a bottle of Shiraz and pours two glasses as I pull the, ever so slightly dusty, cardboard box into the centre of the room and peel away the tape sealing it.

I wait for her to return before opening the flaps, needing her next to me more than I could ever admit. Not that I would have to. She gives me a reassuring squeeze on the arm when she notices my sharp intake of air.

No going back. I force myself to believe that and open the box.

Peering into the box, it is less full than I remember, and that in itself pushes me along. On the top, lay a few t-shirts he did not come to collect. I place them in a pile on the living room floor, mentally noting it as one to donate. Beneath the shirts are a collection of photographs, some loose and some framed. Lucy stills beside me, nervously awaiting my tears. They would not come just yet. I remember placing the most upsetting things at the bottom. My heart clenches at the thought of seeing them again, but I push ahead.

I flick through the photographs, placing the newly empty frames to the other side of the box. It is not nearly as saddening as I had expected. Being able to pass over a timeline of our relationship is almost cathartic, knowing that I do not have to wait weeks and months between these happy memories captured in film.

“I loved that jacket.” Lucy says softly as we peer at a picture of my ex-boyfriend and I at the beach one night.

“So did I,” I smile, fingers running lightly over the glossy image, a bright red faux leather jacket which matched my painted smile. “Will didn’t.”

Lucy’s body slumps beside me and I feel the angry starting to stir inside of her. I put the stack of photos on the floor, deciding not to keep any, and peak back into the box. I can hardly help the laugh that rises from my chest when I see the next item. Not from joy, but from its sheer ridiculousness. My hands reach into the cardboard and pull from it a bathroom scale.

“You know,” I start, sadness and amusement mingling in my chest, “he fixed these, so I was always ten pounds heavier.”

Unable to see the dark humour that I do, Lucy’s eyebrows knit together furiously, teeth biting hard on the inside of her cheek to keep her from screaming obscenities.

I place the scale down on the ground before reaching in to retrieve the last item in the box. The second my fingertips touch the tape, the smile erases from my face.

Deep breath in.

Lifting the final photograph from the box, my heart breaks yet again. The memories from that night flush my mind, my whole body quickly covering in goosebumps in an attempt at defence.

Lucy is silent next to me, waiting for me to say something or react at all. I bring the image closer, throat drying a little more with each inch it nears. I gulp harshly, desperate for some of the moisture collecting at my eyes to travel to my mouth.

I stare down at the picture of myself in my parents’ garden, mum and dad on either side of me, the three of us beaming uncontrollably. We were happy and excited, I was moving to Los Angeles in a few weeks, completely uncertain if I would be able to make my dream into my career.

Turning the photograph over is what send tears falling.

Our sweet Violet,

Words cannot describe how proud we are of you. You are so brave it makes us question if you were adopted without us knowing. You have always been your own person and that is what makes you so very special. It is also the reason that we know you will succeed no matter what you do. You are a wonder. Go forward and show the world.

So much love,

Your biggest fans xx

The words are beautiful, so sweet and encouraging that reading them now makes me feel a fraud. Tracing my thumb over the lines of tape holding the fragments of the photo together, a gentle sob erupts from inside me. The torn object makes my heart ache enough to think it were trying to mirror it.

“This was the day I left him,” I manage to force out between sniffs and sobs. “When he ripped this… I couldn’t do it anymore.”

Reliving my breaking point is something I often find myself doing, experiencing the extreme high of my first ever headlining show, and subsequent extreme low when Will pointed out how unflattering the stage lights were. He took that night from me, stole its joy and tried to grind me back down to a level beneath him.

I cry hard into Lucy’s shoulder, not caring right now that I was ruining her t-shirt. She does not seem to care either, instead just rubbing my back soothingly and letting me get out the emotions I have kept locked away for so long.

It is only when I feel Lucy’s body shaking against mine that I pull myself away. My tears stop the second I see hers falling.

“I’m so sorry.” She gets out, eyes bloodshot as deep but silent sobs wrack her body.

“It’s okay.” I coo, hating seeing my best friend cry more than any object in that box.

“It’s not. I’m supposed to protect you and I didn’t see what he was doing to you.” She is starting to hyperventilate as the tears fall faster and heavier now.

“Hey,” I whisper, placing a hand either side of her head to get her to focus on me and really listen, “No one did, not even me.” My voice cracks slightly at the admission, but it is what we both need to hear in order to forgive ourselves even the smallest amount.

Our breathing regulates, the tears start to dry, and I look back to the image with a fond memory.

“Do you remember the day we left?”

Lucy gives me a breathy and snotty but genuine laugh. “Yeah. Mum packed me about five boxes of chocolate fingers.”

“And they wouldn’t let us go through security with them so we had to stand and eat as many as we could.”

We share a laugh at the fond memory, glad to remember ourselves so sweet and naïve.

I pick up an empty frame from the floor, slipping the taped-up photograph inside and set it on the coffee table.

“I’m not letting him have any more of me.”

She nods and we sit for a moment.

“Thank you for always being next to me.” I say, a lump forming in my throat yet again, however this time, my heart swells instead of breaking.

“You and me.” She says with a soft, slightly teary smile as she extends a pinky finger for me to connect with. Of course, I do.

* * *

“He said he wants to talk when he’s back from New York.” Lucy tells me nervously as she stares down at her phone.

“Could be a good thing.” I argue, reaching out my hand to lift my nearly empty wine glass from the coffee table. I bring it to my lips carefully, my laying position on the sofa not aiding my slightly messy actions.

“I don’t know, he got funny the other day when I left his place.” Lucy mutters, gulping at her newly replenished glass.

“Luce, I’m going to be completely honest with you.” I say, sitting upright and trying to avoid the urge to hiccup as I move. “I think he likes you, and I think you like him too… and I think that scares you a bit.”

Lucy pauses, chewing on my words before responding with a sigh, “I think you’re right.”

“When aren’t I?” I tease, earning an eye roll, “Seriously though, Joseph is great, and he would take care of you.”

“That’s scary.” Lucy whispers to herself more than me, “What do I do if I’m not the one looking after people?”

“You’ll always have to look after me.” I joke, squeezing her knee lightly.

“That’s what I got Harry for.” She teases, unknowingly making my stomach squeeze just at the mention of him. “What?” she laughs, noticing my sudden silence.

I tell her everything. Running her through every moment with Harry, from our first date excitement, to accidentally on purpose friend-zoning him, to breaking the surface on my past relationship. As I describe each of our encounters, I recognise the lightness in my chest when I speak his name. Each small interaction I recall seems to stoke the embers in my chest, burning hot and steadily as I catch her up.

“I think you like him but you’re afraid.” Lucy repeats my own advice back to me with a smug smirk.

“Wouldn’t you be?” I defend.

“Oh definitely, but if you like him why are you waiting around. Be brave.” Her voice is so calm and matter of fact that her words seem nothing but logical, all my excuses flying out the window as I let her advice sink in.

Except for one.

“I don’t think he likes me like that, maybe he did at the start… but not anymore.”

“You can’t know that unless you ask him.” She replies, again as if it’s the most blatant thing in the world. Which I suppose it is.

Maybe I should be brave. I look to the newly framed photograph and find my answer. Maybe I will be.

* * *

Lucy made me text Harry that night before she left. He replied before I had finished locking the front door.

Yesss are you free Friday? I potentially have an idea – Harry

Before I know it, I find myself in the car park of The Forum in Inglewood, Harry’s hand slipped effortlessly into mine as he guides us through backdoor after backdoor.

Adrenaline courses through me as we wind through corridors, hearing the support act through the overhead speakers. We had already missed part of the show and were desperately trying to make up for the time lost sat in traffic.

Harry takes care of everything, shaking hands with everyone we interact with and thanking them graciously when they help us locate our seats. I watch him, slightly awe-struck, as we make our way to our little section by the balcony. The space is more private than general seating and I wonder what strings Harry had to pull to get such incredible last-minute tickets.

“Comfortable?” Harry asks as we get settled.

I nod, afraid that if my mouth were to open, I would let everything slip. Who could blame me though? The kindness and sincerity behind his eyes are enough to make anyone swoon.

No time to dwell on the way his eyes glide across my face, the crowd roars, almost making me jump as they drag me from my daydream.

Up on stage, Fleetwood Mac take their positions. A kick drum meets with the first few notes of The Chain, sending thousands of screaming fans into overdrive, ecstatic to see their idols in the flesh. Harry and I easily fall into that category, excitedly squeezing the other’s hand as the song builds.

“Oh my God!” I scream, head thrown back momentarily, unable to contain my wonderment at whatever cosmic coincidence allowed this to by my life.

It is loud. I feel the drums rattle in my chest, bass swirling in the pit in my stomach. My free hand grips the bar of the balcony, desperately trying to tether me to reality before I float away into whatever heavenly dream I have fallen into.

The show goes on, each passing song appearing to be a fan favourite as the crowd only grows wilder and more liberated. I watch with glee as each and every person moves freely, dancing and singing excitedly as Second Hand News transitions into Say You Love Me.

My gaze flits back to Harry for the hundredth time since the show began, admiring the joy radiating from him. It is infectious and feeds me until my rays begin to pour out of me as well.

Harry is goodness. Any other day, I would have used this as a reason to drive a wedge between us. He brought happiness while I worried that I drained it from the world.

But here, with him, I know the truth. I feel the good and the beauty in the world, and I know that I am a part of that. I do not drain him, we fill each other up.

“Harry,” I desperately call over the music.

Instantly, his eyes are on me, smile still present but quickly glancing over me to ensure my wellbeing.

“I’m sorry I friend-zoned you!” is all I can think to say. Somehow, it seems to be enough. Harry lets out a beautifully easy laugh, dimples deep-set in his cheeks as he lets go of my hand in order to wrap both arms around me.

“It’s okay.” He chuckles, quickly letting go of me and turning me towards the stage so as not to miss anything. His arms linger around me, hugging me slightly from behind, swaying us almost anxiously.

“We don’t normally do requests, but this will have to be an exception.” Stevie says, her voice light as a playful smile finds its way on to her face. “This is Skies the Limit.”

“I was going to choose Storms but didn’t want to see you sad.” Harry utters in my ear, confirming every complimentary thought I have of him.

My jaw struggles to stay closed as I watch the band play my song. Harry did this for me. My favourite, non-depressive, song is playing in front of all of these people. For me. Because of him.

His name tumbles from my lips, breathless and unbelieving that I am not existing in some kind of simulation.

I turn to look at him, gobsmacked, when I find his tentative gaze. Never have I seen him so timid, as though I might think this gesture too much. I mean, it is. There is no way on Earth someone could deserve to feel so cherished. No one could possible earn this heart-swelling sensation. No one is worthy of this level of care. But here I am. I get to be with him and being with Harry is like every birthday rolled into one. He drives me wild and keeps me calm, often managing to do both simultaneously.

For once, I do not care what anyone else thinks. All that matters is the man standing in front of me and the decision I need to make. Am I going to let this pass me by and shy away from potential happiness yet again? Or will I be brave and take a chance?

Harry watches me cautiously as my brain tries to spiral and twist itself into knots of self-doubt. But every wonderful decision I have every made required an element of risk. What would my younger self think if she saw me fumble this chance? She was always so fearless, why can’t I be?

“Remember at Lucy’s? You asked what I’d do if I wasn’t scared.” I say, palms starting to sweat as I feel the edge of the cliff approaching fast.

Harry nods.

“I didn’t tell you that if I weren’t so scared, I would let myself fall for you...”

Our eyes search the other’s face; mine desperate for any sort of reaction, his cautiously awaiting a hint of insincerity.

“Funny thing is I don’t think it will stop me.”

And like that, the cliff is far behind me and I wait in limbo for any response.

My heart wishes for Harry to scoop me up in his arms, bend me low and kiss me like a solider coming home from war. My mind worries that he will throw up over the side of the balcony from sheer disgust at the very notion. However, Harry provides neither anticipated response. Instead, a stifled smile spreads across his face.

“I know,” he grins, “Lucy told me.”

“For fuck’s sake!” I laugh incredulously, my head thrown back in despair and amusement. I should have guessed she would continue meddling. “I’m going to kill her.”

“Do you think you could wait a while to do that?” Harry asks when I finally meet his eyes again, his hands slipping up my back, pulling our bodies ever so slightly closer together.

“Why?” I sigh, half-joking.

“So I can do this.”

Each of Harry’s hands settle on either side of my head, a thumb instinctively grazing across the soft skin of my cheek. I have just enough time to register his touch before his lips come down to meet mine.

Our first kiss is fuelled with longing and ignited with hope. A new type of excitement spreads through my chest as his lips melt with mine, soft and sweet, as all fears and doubts seem to drown out with the roar of the arena. Some other time I will tell Harry about Will and how he affected me, and things will be okay, because with Harry things are okay. He makes them okay. And with heaving chests and his forehead pressed against mine, for the first time in a long time, I feel the potential for a free kind of love.

masterlist

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maxbegone · 4 years

Note

also 43: A kiss pressed to the top of the head. (platonic soulmates)

YES YES YES!

Also on Ao3

"This is the second time a member of the Rose family has come to my apartment today.”

David bites back a grin, his knees bent. “Hello to you, too.”

Stevie steps aside to let David in. He drops his bag in the foyer and looks around.

Her apartment is a little dreary - it’s always a little dreary, David notes, but it’s very much Stevie and he loves it and that Sarah Maclachlan poster regardless.

It smells like vanilla, too, and David thinks he’ll have to convince her to get something a little more atmospheric, something that will bring a little dimension into her home.

He makes a mental note to set aside a few of the soy candles at the store for her.

There’s a suitcase propped-up by her closet, slightly caved-in from its lack of contents and there’s an empty cereal bowl sitting on her countertop, the spoon still in it.

Smudges of dark makeup sit caked under Stevie’s already dark eyes and the cuffs of her flannel are balled-up in her fists. She swipes at her nose.

“I brought wine,” David announces, setting the bottle next to the empty bowl. He eyes the half-empty blend she already had uncorked. He gestures to it. “But I see that might not have been necessary.”

“It’s from your mom.” Stevie gives him a weak smile as she flops into a chair, her dark hair falling in front of her face.

David sighs. “You okay?”

“Did your dad put you up to this?” She murmurs, voice thick. She doesn’t meet his gaze.

“No.” David leans his elbows into the counter, adding much softer, “But...he did tell me about Emir. Coming here was my decision.”

Stevie’s posture visibly slumps in response. She remains quiet.

David doesn’t say anything for a few minutes. Instead, he pulls up his sleeves and begins cleaning up her dirty bowl. He sets out a towel under her drying rack, wiping the excess soap from the base of the sink.

Once that’s accounted for, he tops of Stevie’s wineglass with the stuff he brought - making a very prominent point to pour out the faint remnants of the cheaper bottle down the drain and sets it off to the side for recycling. It was less than a proper glass, really.

He hears a light huff of a laugh from behind him, causing him to smile.

With his own glass in-hand, he sets Stevie’s down, taking the empty chair across from her. Even still, nothing is said as she stares at the dark liquid in her glass. It’s just the two of them sitting in somewhat comfortable silence, taking sips of their drinks until David decides to get up and pour them each another.

“Where’s Patrick tonight?”

David nearly snorts. “He’s sulking at his apartment over Romanian marble and the fact that Ronnie officially hates him.”

Stevie gives him an odd look. “What does that even mean?”

He shakes his head, swilling his wine. “Nothing. I’ll explain tomorrow.”

Stevie just mutters a dejected, “Sure,” and picks at a loose string hanging from her sleeve.

The apartment goes silent again - it’s a trend tonight, and David thinks he’s okay with that - the only real sound coming from the buzzing of Stevie’s old refrigerator every so often.

“Fuck him,” David states. It’s sharp, it’s a little biting, and Stevie pushes her brows together when he says it.

“I mean, you already did,” he adds, earning another half-hearted laugh from his best friend. “But fuck him.”

She sniffs, eyes trained on her hands in her lap. “Thanks,” she whispers.

“I’m not going to say a bunch of fluff to try and make you feel better because, let’s face it, that won’t help.” She nods and David continues. “So, if you’re fine with it...I’ll stay over tonight, try and distract you or something.”

She scrubs at her cheeks, disrupting tear-stains and still nodding. “Thanks, David.”

His smile grows just a bit wider, the dull knot of an ache in his chest starting to unravel itself.

He grabs his bag then, tossing it onto the unmade bed. David begins taking out various creams and cleansers, a jar containing the under-eye serum he loves so much, and a bottle of lavender toner.

“Go wash up,” he nods toward the bathroom.

Stevie stands wordlessly, gathering everything up in her arms. When the door shuts behind her and he hears the water running, David begins tidying up again.

He starts with the bed; straightening out the fitted sheet and fixing the comforter. He fluffs the pillows and drapes a chunky knitted blanket that’s been thrown haphazardly over the back of the couch onto the bed.

It’s right about then that David spots the script for Cabaret. It’s written in big, bold letters across the front. His mother had mentioned in passing something about it and a “courageous and sturdy woman like our dear Stevie.”

His heart squeezes in his chest at image of his mother handing the script to over to Stevie. It makes sense why she came here now.

He’ll ask her about it tomorrow. For now, he places it on the kitchen table.

Save for the very dregs, their glasses from earlier are empty, so David takes to delicately washing them out and setting them upside-down on a dishtowel. He makes two cups of tea, steaming and ready by the time the bathroom door swings open again.

Stevie comes out fresh-faced and dewy, her flannel now bunched-up in one hand.

She hitches a thumb over her shoulder. “I left everything on the counter if you want to use it.”

David hands her a mug. “In a second. But, uh...” He picks up a tattered novel from where it sits on her nightstand, smirking. “What’s this?”

Stevie rips it from his hold, swiftly shoving it into a drawer and hip-checking it closed. “It’s a book.”

“A Scandalous Kiss,” David recites coyly, “Sounds hot. Where the hell did you pick that up? A pharmacy?”

“I’m borrowing it from Gwen. She wouldn’t stop raving about it when I was in the café last week, so I’m borrowing it from her.”

David blinks. “Yeah, I don’t know who that is.”

“Gwen,” Stevie repeats. “Bob’s wife.” When David shrugs at her, she tosses her flannel onto a chair.

“I’ll be out in a few,” he says gently, offering a much softer smile to which she returns.

“You’ll be out in more than ‘a few,” she calls through the door, and despite the congestion in her voice, her wit is still there.

The seals from the unopened products he’d handed her are still scattered around the sink, so he dumps those into the trash before moving on.

David hastens his way through his nighttime routine, knocking off about half the time it normally takes so he can get back to Stevie.

Abbreviated version done, David lines the products up in Stevie’s mirror-slash-medicine cabinet. He thinks about organizing them by step for her, maybe going through it all with her tomorrow morning if she’s up for it, but brushes off the notion.

Stevie’s curled-up on her side atop the covers, her back to him, when David emerges. He takes this opportunity to slip into a pair of sleep pants and a tee, tucking his things away by the foot of her bed.

As David comes around to her side of the bed, Stevie’s shoulders are shaking ever so slightly.

He lets out a quiet sigh, sitting carefully by the bend of her legs. Stevie has her arms wrapped tight around her pillow, her eyes distant and puffy from what David can make out from his angle.

“Hey.” He gives her thigh a firm rub. She only sniffs in response.

He lets out a breathy “Oh” sound and stands again, repositioning Stevie so she’s under the covers and tucked-in tightly. He lays the knitted blanket over her shoulders and, with a tentative hand, brushes the hair from her face.

Stevie turns just enough to look at him, her eyes red-rimmed.

David offers a half-frown, one that says, “I’m here for you, I care about you, I’m not going anywhere.”

It’s the truth.

“Sorry,” he hears her say once the lights are off in the main part of the apartment and the only source is coming from the lamp on her nightstand.

He’s laying with her now, matching her position. She looks so small in her huddled form, and David wants nothing more than to hold his best friend close.

“You have nothing to be sorry about.”

There’s a long pause before Stevie says anything again. “I feel really, really stupid.”

He lets a beat pass. “You’re not, though.”

She hums. “It just sucks.” Stevie heaves a deep breath, a gurgling sound coming from somewhere deep in her throat. “I thought that it was actually going somewhere...and it wasn’t.”

“Not that it’ll really make you feel any better,” David starts carefully, repositioning himself on the pillow, “but I’ve been in that boat countless times. You get over it. But it does really suck. And it really fucking hurts sometimes, too.”

Stevie’s lips quirk downward on one side. She pulls a hand out from where it’s still wrapped around the pillow to rub at her eyes.

“You really didn’t have to come tonight.” She says it so softly, as if she’s trying to convince herself that David coming here was nothing big.

But he sees right through it. “I wanted to.”

He reaches over to shut the light, a metallic click echoing out. When he turns back to face Stevie, she’s staring at him sadly, eyes still glazed-over.

David lifts up an arm as incentive for Stevie to wriggle over to him. She sets her head on his chest, nuzzling as a hiccuping sob releases itself. David links his arms at her back.

She settles sometime after that, going deathly still, and there’s something about the way she lays there that lets David know she’s knocked-out cold for the rest of the evening.

She’ll be emotionally hungover in the morning, he knows that for a fact - he’s been there himself, Stevie’s even seen it.

But for now, she’ll sleep like a rock. A small, dark-haired rock shaped like his best friend whom he loves. He really, really loves. He hopes that’s enough for her.

David presses a kiss into the crown of her head, one hand coming up to brush through her hair. He breathes in the familiar scent of Stevie’s shampoo, it comforts him.

David kisses her head again, tucks her impossibly close and drifts off as her breath tickles his neck.

#david rose #stevie budd #platonic soulmates!!!#that's his stevie!!!#that's her david!!!#david x stevie #schitt's creek #schitts creek #sc fic #sc ficlet #schitt's creek fic #schitt's creek ficlet #patrickbrewsky #EM YOU WONDERFUL HUMAN YOU #prompt fill #my fic #my writing #my sc fic

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jkslug · 5 years

Text

no. 6 angst | jjk

∷ After some recent awkward ‘breakup’ sex I show up at your door three weeks later with an unopened pregnancy test in my hand

∵ prompt from this list

Jungkook x reader

Words: 1,318

One thing about breakups was there seemed to be traditions everyone follows. No matter what, people loved to change something about their appearance. Maybe it was a way to get the attention of their lost lover back; maybe it was a way to get the attention of others who have also lost it all. At this point, you didn’t know, but you got bangs and immediately regretted it afterwards.

Another thing you regretted afterwards was opening that second bottle of wine and keeping your phone so close by to you. It caused a knock-on effect of your downfall that night. Your tipsy state convinced you it was a good idea to text him. To text Jungkook. You can’t quite recall what you sent him; pictures, begging words for him to touch you one last time or both, but he appeared at your door in record time and you both left a normal adult conversation till the morning. Or not at all really- he wasn’t there when you woke up.

But whatever stupid tradition you did, they all made you feel terrible about yourself whilst doing them and the consequences pushed you further into the dirt. This was all you could think about as you pace outside of Jungkook’s door clutching an unopened pregnancy test box in your hands. You had knocked on the door but now you were just cursing yourself over and over at how stupid you were to forget about protection just because it felt too good to stop at that point.

You were released from your deafening thoughts as you heard the door whip open and the familiar voice you remember as moans spoke, “y/n? What are you doing here? Look… what happened those weeks-“

“I’m not here about that,” you step up to the door and look down, thinking maybe you really shouldn’t have come here and not told him about this scare at all, “well not about that specifically but it relates to it.”

“What are you pregnant or something?” Jungkook chuckles awkwardly; he always tried to make every situation a little lighter but right now wasn’t the time and he noticed when you refused to look up and pull the box out from behind your back.

“Maybe,” you look up and watch Jungkook’s eyes widen. Should you run? Now would be the best time to do it. You weren’t even sure if you were, but you knew it was always best to check, “I can go-“

“Come in,” Jungkook stepped to the side and your throat closed up as you walked in with a hanging head.

There was a silence so quiet the sound of breathing could cause it to smash to the ground, so you held your breath, trying to figure out what your next move was- maybe you should explain yourself.

“It isn’t a certainty I am by the way,” you spin on toes to look at Jungkook, “I just wanted to check… and I thought you should know?” you groan at yourself. This was stupid, you weren’t even sure why you came here instead of your own place to take the test like he would care? Maybe you wanted him to be a part of it; maybe you just loved the way he comforted you; maybe you used it as an excuse to see him again; maybe, maybe, maybe.

Your breathing was getting faster, but it was getting harder and harder to let it out. The walls were closing in so you made a break for the door.

Jungkook didn’t want you to leave; hated that he wanted you to stay for selfish reasons Jungkook blocked your way and hugged you, letting every single one of your senses get filled with just Jungkook, “calm down, stay. I’ll be right outside the door as you take the test.”

Lavender and smell of spring flew up your nose and you smiled to yourself; Jungkook always did prefer sweeter smells. Eventually, you hug back and nod your head.

As soon as your hands met around his back Jungkook stepped away and cleared his throat and acted as if he would show you where the bathroom was like you didn’t already know.

The cardboard packaging around the test was crumpled entirely in your hand as you walked to the en-suite bathroom and looked straight into Jungkook’s eyes as you closed the door. It was a quick process you didn’t want to think about as you read the scrunched instructions and acted them out easily. Jungkook was kind enough to not knock for long enough for you to finish taking the test, but he couldn’t help himself to knock three minutes later when he just wanted to check if you were okay.

“You can come in,” you place the test on the counter as you slide down the wall and sit on the floor, circling the rings around your fingers as you kept a close eye on the clock.

Jungkook closes the door without a sound and walks over with no word as he slumps down next to you. When you first knocked on the door you promised yourself you wouldn’t cry, but as this kept dragging on it was getting harder and harder. What would happen if it came out as positive?

“I didn’t regret it if that’s what you’re thinking right now,” Jungkook speaks up tentatively as he notices you getting panicked, “I came over that night because I wanted to see you again, which you might hate me for now but I don’t regret it y/n.”

“I texted you first idiot,” you shake your head as you look up at his side profile, “it was impulsive and I was drunk.”

Jungkook laughs shyly, “is it bad I’m upset you’d only text or talk to me after you got drunk?”

“Just because I was drunk when I did it, didn’t mean I didn’t think about it when I was sober,” you shake your head and lean it on his shoulder as you both looked forward at the tiles on Jungkook’s bathroom wall. There was another silence as you both waited for the two minutes to be up.

“You…” you clear your throat as you felt bad that you broke the silence, “you didn’t kiss me when it happened,” saying this wouldn’t get you anywhere, it was just picking at your thoughts slowly and you wanted to know why.

“I did,” you lift your head off his shoulder, “in the morning… when I left.”

“When you left,” you repeated as you both stared at each other, “when I was asleep.”

“Yes, when you were asleep,” Jungkook visibly swallowed and you had to look away because it became too intense for you.

Your eyes dart up to the clock and it hit the two-minute mark three minutes ago. Clearing your throat once again, you start to get up but a hand firmly grips your wrist.

“Y/n, if it is positive, I’ll be here for you okay? I’ll support you every way I can. And even if it says negative I’ll still be here for you. Always,” Jungkook speaks to your soul and that’s what gets you to start crying like you didn’t want to.

You bite your lip and nod as you squeeze your eyes shut to stop the non-stop tears. You made it to your feet and your hands shake as you reach to turn the test over. To your surprise, Jungkook gets up and stand behind you, carefully wrapping his arms around your torso and you close your eyes, thinking back to all the moments he did something like this; how you missed him hugging you like this, “just look at it, like ripping off a band-aid.”

You keep your eyes closed and quickly pick up the test, turning it over and looking down as you read the results.

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts #bts jungkook #bts jeon jungkook #drabble #prompts #exes prompts

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stretchjournalemerson · 3 years

Text

Pain Management

By Maura Grace Cowan

For decades, I have been told, Mema’s fingers smelled of nicotine, trailing the scent of a pack a day and a love that ate away at my grandfather until it swallowed him whole just five months after I was born. After that, an already vicious candy habit became a lifelong method of staying cigarette-free. She said that it kept her mouth busy and her head on straight.

We were alike in that way– her weakness was See’s Candies butterscotch lollipops, and I favored peppermints to focus. It was not uncommon, during the five years that she lived in our home, to find us next to each other in the living room, teeth clacking on our respective hard candies until I finished my work or she tired of the barrage of bad news.

Her other method of oral fixation was toothpicks, little orange slivers that she dropped as she hobbled from room to room. Truthfully, that was about all she left behind– plastic wrappers and wood chips, breadcrumbs that led me back through the years after she was gone.

I was home for Christmas during my freshman year of college when she passed, as suddenly as one can pass after almost a century of life. It was California dreary out, with a blank sky and a bad attitude. She was three thousand miles away by then, but the West Coast was mourning. That night, I popped a coffee-flavored See’s lollipop in my mouth. It was the last thing I would bite into for days.

My wisdom teeth were never wise enough to grow in the correct direction, and with my already small jaw, their removal was an inevitability. We had made the appointment the previous summer, hoping to control the problem before it started. The timing could not have been predicted. But I would have signed away a world of hurt down the line if I could have absolved myself of surgery on the morning after my grandmother’s death.

My orthodontist was a genial Scottish man in his fifties. I had met him just once before, for our consultation. He charmed me immediately by recognizing my name and its correct pronunciation– “Gaelic, o’course,” he had said cheerfully. Mema would have been smitten. She always loved accents– anything about people, really, cultures and language and history. She told me once that she had lived so many stories that she couldn’t help wanting to hear everyone else’s. This was what I was thinking about when he began to rattle off the medications he would prescribe me for the weeks after the operation.

“Oh, I don’t need the strong stuff,” I interjected. “I’ll be just fine with the Ibuprofen, I’ve got a lot of grit.”

He chuckled, handing me a stack of forms.

“I don’t doubt it, Maura. Let’s just see how you’re feeling afterwards, eh?”

I was the last of my friends from high school to get their wisdom teeth out. I had stayed the night with Amelia right after the surgery, brought ice cream for Tyler every day for a week. I knew that there would be no conversation or ‘seeing how I felt.’

I am not taking those pills.

I have never lived at extremes. Modesty and moderation were ingrained in me before I could pronounce either word, by my mother and Mema and their working-class sensibilities. And if nothing else, I have held myself to those principles. In high school, even on the rare occasions that I allowed myself to go out on weekends, it was a point of pride that I knew my limits. I was never the least sober in the room– often, I was the most by far. I never, ever, lost control.

The assistant was a young, lanky man– almost a boy, really, I noticed as he plunged the IV drip into my arm. I imagined babbling to him when I woke up, making a fool of myself, having to be carried out like I once carried my high school friend when she mixed Vicodin and vodka.

“Don’t give me too much,” I remember pleading. “Look at me. Promise me that I will walk out of here on my own.”

He must have listened, because when I came to, it was with a surprisingly clear head. At least, the part of my head that I could feel was clear. I spent the car ride home in silence, poking at the numbness, pushing down the tears that were welling up in my eyes.

Healing happened, slowly and awkwardly. A prescription of Hydrocodone sat on my dresser unopened; I refused everything but aspirin and a steady supply of vanilla pudding. Instead, I spent my days drifting between sleep and discomfort, but I suffered in silence. The whole house, after all, was suffering too.

Mema was not an affectionate woman– in the years that I knew her, she was not even particularly kind. She was stubborn and abrasive, with a Southern drawl turned scratchy with years of smoking and sighing and complaining.

She was also the strongest woman I have ever known.

After she quit smoking, she kept as far as possible from any sort of vices that would shorten her lifespan, replacing them instead with virtues… temperance, fortitude, and CNN. Even in her last years, when my parents begged her to have a glass of wine each night just to help her get to sleep, she refused. Her pain management was a strict combination of stubbornness and grit, and her health remained remarkable for her age.

But when you are close to one hundred years old, regardless of how healthy you are, on some level, every part of your body is begging you to just stop. To rest. Sometimes, it’s even in your own mind.

Once, I heard her ask my mother, “Why am I still here?”

“You know that we can’t get you back on a plane safely with all this oxygen, Mom.”

“No,” she sighed. “Why am I still here?”

But she accepted it. She held firm, and she stayed. Even when we ran out of money and resources and patience, when we had to fly her those three thousand miles to move back in with my auntie Beth, she stayed until she could not stay one second longer.

When I was seventeen, I once stood staring into her medicine cabinet on the precipice of explosion. I had my father’s gin and my mother’s anger in my stomach, and I knew what matches it would take to light that fuse. But I stayed, strong and composed, just as she did every day. I couldn’t do it for myself. So I did it for her.

I am not taking those pills.

I was, at the outset, correct about my ability to push through the discomfort. My constant fear of losing control had given me an acute awareness of how much I could handle, and I walked that line confidently. I did everything right, took the antibiotics and cleaned the surgical sites with a ritualistic reverence. All of my focus went towards the pain in my mouth. And the other pain, the ache that had settled into the bones of our house and deep into my chest, went untreated.

Until it couldn’t anymore.

I pushed myself too hard, I understand that now. I had convinced myself that I was out of the woods entirely, that I hadn’t felt any real soreness for days, that I was ready to shut the door behind a miserable week. That afternoon, I went hiking with my best friend, and we caught up over coffee and pre-Christmas peppermint bark. She tried to mention Mema, and I pointed out a hawk in the trees ahead.

By the evening, I was curled up in excruciating pain, convinced that the left side of my jaw was cracking and splintering as I laid with a bag of ice that did no real good. Taking Ibuprofen was like trying to stamp out a forest fire.

With gritted teeth and an apology, I cracked open the bottle of Hydrocodone.

That night was one of the worst of my life. I dreamed apocalyptic wastelands, bodies fetid and festering after the pestilence of the pandemic that had already defined that year. I saw my grandmother, sweating in and out of sleep– alive for a moment, but dying again and again. In the confusion and haze, for just a moment, I thought she might have been a god.

My fever dream ended as a weak winter sun began to stream through the window. I was drained, more exhausted than I had been the night before, but the ache had disappeared and my head was clear. I stripped the sheets and washed off the night, plugged in my headphones, hit shuffle perched on her old bare mattress.

And I was catching my breath/

Staring out an open window, catching my death/

And I couldn’t be sure/

I had a feeling so peculiar, that this pain would be for/

Evermore

I didn’t even notice I was crying until the drops hit my legs. I do not think I could have stopped myself if I tried. But I had run out of the desire to control.

Hey December, guess I’m feeling unmoored/

Can’t remember what I used to fight for

Everything, my grandmother and mother have insisted, exists in moderation. But what is moderation when we feel in extremes?

I rewind the tape, but all it does it pause/

On the very moment all was lost/

Sending signals to be double-crossed

We are made for vices, for cigarettes and coffee and chocolate cake. We are made to cling to any semblance of control, and then to watch again and again as it slips away, and then we are made to try again.

When the tears ran out and the last notes played, I pulled myself up and grabbed my keys. On my way out of the door, I caught a glimpse of something on the kitchen counter– a small glass bowl filled with See’s lollies. We had bought a box to send her for Christmas the day before she died.

This is what she left behind. Plastic wrappers, wood chips. A gap in the family and four gaps in my jaws. Ninety-nine years of stories and stubbornness and Southern sensibility. I carry the weight of her within me, her love and her loss. I manage our pain the way that she taught me, with control and composure. But I’m learning my own ways too.

And I couldn’t be sure/

I had a feeling so peculiar, this pain wouldn’t be for/

Evermore

My fist closed around a butterscotch.

#stretch2021 #memoir

0 notes

t0ngue-tech · 7 years

Text

All Yours | Three

“The news you received was a good thing. It had to be a good thing. You recalled all the moments where Yoongi constantly asked himself what was he doing wrong in their relationship. You remembered how hurt he was and how alone he felt when Seolhyun would blow him off or not return his calls. All he wanted was to feel like he was in a relationship again and his wish came true. This was all definitely good news.

But why did you feel so hollow?”

↠angstttttty, universityAU↞

word count: 4.7k

↠series: 1 | 2 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | ↞

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME :D as for my birthday, here is my bday gift to you guise ^-^ it may not be much, but here it is~ i hope you all enjoy :)

It was a long, painful week. Not only were you clocking in more hours than you were used to, but you were staying true to your word by staying away from Yoongi.

The first couple of days of your ‘Yoongi cleanse’ consisted of you telling him you were busy whenever he would ask to see you. He would offer to see you after work, but you would tell him you were exhausted and you just wanted to go back to your dorm and sleep. You weren’t even sure if any of this was working because even when you were trying to keep yourself occupied, you were still thinking about Yoongi and his stupid gummy smile.

You still convinced yourself that this was for the best and that it was going to help you in the long run. Eventually, Yoongi ceased his calls and text and it honestly broke your heart. Maybe he caught on or maybe he thought you were angry with him over something. It made you feel empty, but just as you were telling yourself, this was for the best.

It was until you found out some shocking news from Jungkook during one of your late shifts.

“Wait so, Yoongi and Seolhyun are actually doing fine right now?!” You exclaimed, putting way too much whipped cream on Jungkook’s drink.

“Yeah. It’s shocking! She’s staying at the dorm tonight, so I’m bunking at a friend’s dorm.” He reached for his drink and took a long sip. “The last thing I want is to be in the vicinity if explicit things happen.” Jungkook shuddered and took another sip.

You remained quiet. So this was why he stopped trying to contact you. Maybe Seolhyun instructed him to never talk to you anymore and Yoongi willingly agreed because you stopped talking to him in the first place.

“Hey, y/n. You okay? You look like you’re about to cry.” Jungkook asked, leaning forward on the counter.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. Just tired.” You lied through a forced smile.

Jungkook looked unconvinced, but he couldn’t stay to argue with you. “O-Okay. If you say so, y/n.” He stared at you for a while and tapped the granite counter. “Get some rest soon.”

You watched quietly as Jungkook left the coffee shop, leaving you with only two more customers working on their laptops.

The news you received was a good thing. It had to be a good thing. You recalled all the moments where Yoongi constantly asked himself what was he doing wrong in their relationship. You remembered how hurt he was and how alone he felt when Seolhyun would blow him off or not return his calls. All he wanted was to feel like he was in a relationship again and his wish came true. This was all definitely good news.

But why did you feel so hollow?

↠↞

“Hani, I don’t know what I need: a ten hour long nap or ten shots of whiskey.” You let out a long sigh and wiped down the counter.

“Let’s do both. Ten shots of whiskey tonight—screw my lab tomorrow—and let’s just sleep in instead.” Hani chimed and assisted you in stacking up the chairs in the coffee shop.

“You see? This is why I love you.” You chuckled. “But I know that lab is an important one, so let’s take a rain check.”

Hani wiped away a fake tear and nodded her head. Because she was your best and closest friend, Hani knew about everything that was going on in your head.

“Y/n, this is a good thing—for the both of you. You know that right?” Hani walked over to to check up on you because you stopped your movements all of a sudden.

“Y-Yeah, I know…but—“

“You like him and I know it wasn’t easy to hear that from Jungkook. And honestly, I’m not on board with the idea of liking someone while they’re in a relationship, but you never made any advances towards him and Seolhyun was being really shitty towards Yoongi.” You cracked a smile. You also weren’t on board with the idea, but it was happening to you and that’s why your mind was all jumbled up.

“Now, come on, y/n. Close up and I’ll walk with you to your dorm entrance.”

↠↞

Hani had offered to sleepover at your dorm to keep you company, but you knew she had already made plans to sneak into Seokjin’s dorm. You politely declined, promising her that you were going to be just fine.

Walking into your dorm made your body feel a lot more exhausted than it already was. All you wanted was to change out of your work clothes and climb into bed; thankfully you didn’t work tomorrow and you didn’t have any classes on a Saturday.

You followed through with your plan, but instead of going straight to bed, you opened your refrigerator and pulled out an unopened bottle of red wine. After a physically and emotionally draining week, you deserved a little alcohol. It was just you drinking, so you decided to drink directly from the bottle and tune into something interesting on the television; which most likely meant Forensic Files because what else would be on at 11 in the evening.

Your attention was mainly focused on a random spot on your coffee table with the t.v being background noise. Hani was right, this whole thing was good news for everyone. Yoongi and Seolhyun were finally on better terms and that meant it would make it easier for you to let go of your feelings. But it still took an emotional toll on you because you were letting go of someone you liked for a little over a year and of course it wasn’t going to be easy. This was for your own good and you needed to accept it whether you wanted to or not.

The loud volume of your ringtone startled you, almost making you drop the wine bottle. You cocked your eyebrow. Jungkook?

“Hello?”

“Yeah dude, just—hey, y/n! You busy?”

Jungkook only ever texted you, so the fact that he called you instead caught you off guard. “No, I got home not too long ago and now I’m just watching some t.v. Why?”

“Okay because Yoongi is drunk and he won’t stop pestering me to take you to your dorm—yes, I’m on the phone with her, could you please stop poking my back Yoongi!”

Yoongi’s drunk request also caught you off guard. Why did he want to see you out of all people? And first of all, Yoongi barely drank alcohol so what the hell happened?

“U-Um, I-I don’t know Jungkook.”

“Y/n, please? Yoongi and Seolhyun got into a fight and I have work in the morning.”

“A fight? Weren’t they just doing fine?”

“I know, I’m just as shocked as you are, but please we’re literally almost to your dorm. He’s probably going to drunk-explain everything.”

Before you could even answer, Jungkook ended the call and there was knocking at your door. You placed the bottle on your coffee table and sighed. Dammit.

As soon as your opened the door, a drunk Yoongi fell through and draped a heavy arm over your shoulders.

“Y/n! Long time no see!” He slurred. The aroma of vodka was on him and it was enough to make you feel drunk as well.

“H-Hey, Yoongs.” You found a grip on him, but his dead weight was a bit too much for you.

“I’m so sorry, y/n. I owe you one—oh! Come to the diner on a day I’m working and I’ll treat you to a meal.” Jungkook looked at you apologetically and you really couldn’t be mad at him. Yoongi was the one who asked for you and Jungkook needed to be in bed because of an early shift.

“Alright. I’ll take care of his drunk ass, be careful on your way back to the dorm.” You smile at him to assure that you were really okay with this situation.

“Thank you so much, y/n. Love you!” He called out as he scurried back down the hallway.

You closed your door behind you and dragged Yoongi, who couldn’t stop giggling to himself, to your bedroom. He kept on tripping on himself and once he started to laugh, he would shush you.

“Ugh, up you go Yoongi.” You shoved Yoongi onto your bed and sat beside him. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were shut. You assumed he fell asleep right away so you stood up to resume your alone time on the sofa, but Yoongi circled your wrist with his hand.

“Don’t leave.” He muttered through his slightly chapped lips.

“I’ll be back. I-I just need to clean up the living room.” You felt his grip loosen and you took that opportunity to slip into your living room.

For a solid minute, you stood there, baffled. It had only been a couple of days since Jungkook told you Yoongi and Seolhyun were doing better and now they weren’t on good terms again. Maybe asking him wasn’t going to be the best idea because of his current condition, so you had to control yourself for the rest of the evening. You quickly tidied up your living room before returning back to Yoongi’s side. He was preparing himself to sit back up, but you gently helped him lie back down.

“Dude, how much did you drink?” You asked subconsciously placing your trash can near the bed.

“Vodka. Too much.” He breathed. “You need to lie down here.”

It hasn’t been too long since the last time he slept over, but you still felt the rush of butterflies as you glided over the side closest to the wall.

Your room was dim with only the red light of your digital clock illuminating the small corner of your desk and the full moon shining through your curtains. You laid on your side while Yoongi stayed on his back. The quiet sound of his raspy breathing and the soft humming of the air conditioning were the only noises that could be heard at that moment. You thought he was asleep, so you closed your eyes hoping to drift off quickly.

“I haven’t seen you in a long time.” Yoongi mumbled. “Where have you been?”

You opened up your eyes and tried to focus on Yoongi’s face to check if his eyes were open as well, but they weren’t. There was a thick lump in your throat and you dryly gulped it down.

“I told you, Yoongi. I’ve been busy working.”

“Bullshit. That didn’t stop you before.” A wash of guilt crashed over you. He was right. You thought he was pretending to be drunk so he could talk to you, but he began to whisper slurred words and giggle to himself again.

“Yoongi, I’m sorry.” Your heart felt broken. “Busy working” seemed like such a half-ass excuse and Yoongi knew you too well.

“Mm.” Yoongi slowly turned over to face you and your breath hitched. “The room is spinning.”

“Lie on your—“ Yoongi scooted closer to you. Your knees grazed and you regretted your choice of sleeping shorts.

You once again gazed at his features. How could someone look so cold yet so soft at the same time? You were so entranced by how smooth his skin looked that you didn’t notice Yoongi staring right back at you.

All of a sudden, there was a loud vibration that you felt even on your side of the bed. You knew it wasn’t yours because you kept your phone right in between the two of you and there was no light illuminating from it. By default, it was Yoongi’s.

“U-Um, someone is calling you.” You whispered, trying to keep yourself composed.

“It’s probably Seolhyun and I really don’t want to talk to her.” Yoongi grumbled. He fished for his phone to turn it off and set in on the nightstand beside your bed. Instead of staying on that side, he turned to face you once again.

“Do you mind me asking what happened?” If he didn’t completely remember what happened or if he didn’t want to talk about it, you couldn’t blame him. But even when they argued countless times over the past month, he never chose to drown in alcohol to relieve his frustration.

Yoongi shrugged and rubbed his face with hands. “She wanted something sweet to drink so I recommended we go to the coffee shop because it’s home to the best cinnamon cream lattes and she just blows up.” Yoongi’s voice dropped and you could see the aggravation in the details of his face. “Seolhyun kept badgering me why I just had to bring you up but I only mentioned the coffee shop at that time, not you specifically. I tried to tell her you might have possibly not worked tonight, but she didn’t listen to me. Instead, she assumed I’ve been fucking you.”

You were at a loss for words and boiling with different emotions. Why did Seolhyun hate you all of a sudden? Was it because Yoongi sought refuge within you whenever they argued? But you two haven’t done anything wrong and home-wrecking was not your cup of tea. You were a bit impressed because despite being drunk, Yoongi remembered everything that happened.

“I told her that we weren’t fucking and that we were just friends. But she just kept yelling at me and telling me to choose you or her.” Yoongi’s voice began to tremble and it broke your spirit. He was never this emotional. In fact, the only time you saw him cry was after finals were over and you all went for a celebratory drink. He was completely drunk and upset over the fact that he forgot to buy Jungkook a birthday gift even when his birthday was in four months.

“How could she just make me choose like that? You’re both important to me. Plus, she chose her friends over me multiple times the past month.” He rolled onto his back and covered his eyes with his forearm. A shaky breath was released and you immediately knew he was crying. “I kept asking her to calm down because Jungkook was in his room next to mine, but she still wasn’t listening. The next thing I knew, she receives a text message and says she has to go, so she stormed off.”

“Yoongi…” You sat up and looked at him with concerned eyes. “Wait here okay? I’ll get you some water.”

You lifted yourself off the mattress to retrieve a glass of water from your kitchen. You had no idea that the cause of their fight was because of you. Keeping yourself away from him was to supposed to result in good things not the opposite.

Shortly after, you returned and assisted in helping Yoongi sit up beside you. After turning on your lamp, he took the glass from your hand and drank the entire thing with ease. Without warning, he leaned over to rest his head on your shoulder but moved his body closer to find a comfortable spot in the crook of your neck.

“You smell good, like coffee.” Yoongi breathed, sending shivers down your spine.

“Hey, this is exactly why Seolhyun thinks we’re fucking.” You try to lighten up the mood, hoping he wouldn’t take your sentence to heart.

Yoongi stripped himself from you to look you straight in the eye. You were waiting for a disapproving reaction and instead, you were given a smile.

“W-What?” You stuttered.

“Nothing… I just… missed you.” He spoke slowly, not breaking the eye contact.

You let out a broke chuckle and tried to brush off his words. “You’re drunk, Yoongi. You tend to say things, you know that.”

“I may be drunk, y/n. But I know what I be talking about.” He slurred with a serious facial expression. “It feels like me hasn’t see you in weeks.”

“I’m sorry, Yoongi.” You hesitated to tell him the truth, so you sugar coated your reason instead. “After what happened at the supermarket, I thought that maybe if I left the picture, your relationship with Seolhyun would be restored and I guess it worked for a while.”

Yoongi cupped your hand. “Don’t blame yourself. Nothing is y/n’s fault. So don’t leave the picture no more. I don’t think I can stand not talking to you for another week.”

His hand was warm against your cold skin. You had to keep reminding yourself that Yoongi wasn’t in the perfect state of mind, so you weren’t sure if he was going to remember anything in the morning.

“Okay, I promise.” You forced yourself to smile.

“Good. Now, me is tired—“ Yoongi dropped his head back down onto the pillow. He was still holding your hand so almost pulled you down against him, but you stopped yourself with your free hand. He took the hand he was holding up and settled it in the locks of his blond hair. You took the gesture as an invite to massage his scalp and play with his soft strands.

“Thank you, y/n. For everything.” Yoongi whispered with a tired smile.

“It’s no problem, Yoongs.”

“No, really, thank you. You helped me through so much and became my safety blanket when I needed a someone.” He closed his eyes and adjusted his legs to get comfortable. “I wish Seolhyun was more like you.”

Why did Yoongi have the tendency to say things at the wrong time?

Your movements began to slow down and you could hear the loud thumping of your heart in your ears. There were so many things you wanted to say to Yoongi in that moment but you bit down on your tongue to keep yourself from speaking.

His last sentence kept on replaying in your head like a broken record. You’ve liked Yoongi for so long and hearing what he said almost reduced you into a puddle. He’s drunk. He’s drunk. He’s fucking drunk, y/n. You didn’t want to, but you had to remind yourself of the situation.

In the midst of the silence, you could hear Yoongi’s breathing indicating that he was fast asleep. You slipped your hand out of his hair and gently removed your blanket beneath Yoongi’s head. At first you planned to sleep in the living room to avoid looking at his angelic sleeping face, but you didn’t want him to wake up in the middle of night throwing up and you weren’t there beside him. You sucked in a breath and joined him in your bed. You opened up your large cotton blanket to cover both of your bodies.

It took you 15 minutes to find a comfortable spot and even after finding it, your thoughts kept you tossing and turning. You settled with lying down on your side, facing Yoongi who was still dead asleep on his back. You watched his chest steadily rise and fall and there was a sudden spark of jealousy because you wanted nothing more than to sleep.

Yoongi coughed and you readied yourself just in case he turned over to throw up, but he rolled over towards you leaving a couple of inches of breathing space in between you two. He seemed to still be asleep so you let out the breath of air that was caught in your chest.

It wasn’t fair. Yoongi had a chance in forgetting everything when he woke up while you had to go on your day knowing what he said. You stared at his sleeping face and sighed. There was no doubt Yoongi deserved better, Hani, Seokjin, and Jungkook agreed, but there was no way you would ever put yourself out as a candidate for him. Plus, you knew he loved Seolhyun, he really did. Seolhyun had an amazing boy as her boyfriend and he didn’t deserve to be yelled at or given the cold shoulder. Jungkook once told him to break up with her because communication is important within a relationship and Seolhyun wasn’t meeting him halfway. But at that time, Yoongi believed he was capable of putting the pieces of his relationship back together.

“You fucking suck, Min Yoongi.” You whispered angrily. He let out a soft mixture of a grunt and a snore as his response. “I like you too damn much and I hate it.” For a moment, it almost seemed like he heard you because he groaned and wiped his mouth. Not even a second later, his snores were filling up the stuffy atmosphere.

You glared at him for sending you into a short state of panic, but your eyes softened as they traveled from the slight furrow between his eyebrows to the valley of his cheeks and finally to his lips. Your throat went dry as you stared at the outline of his lips. You remembered the feeling you had when you both stood in your kitchen just staring at each other and heat raced to your face. The temperature of your body rose and you could practically hear the loud thumping of your heart throughout your entire body. Your thoughts were fighting against each other and one thought specifically remained still and scared you the most.

God, I really want to kiss him.

You almost brought your hand up to slap some sense into yourself. There was no way you would ever allow yourself to do something so stupid, especially since Yoongi was in a shitty yet committed relationship. It was tempting and frightening because you couldn’t believe that you were actually thinking of doing something like that.

He probably won’t even remember in the morning—No. Oh my god, no.

In an instant, your hands flew up to cover your face. “No, no, no, no.” You mumbled into your hands.

All of these feelings were making you feel a lot more horrible than you already were. You chewed on your bottom lip feeling conflicted with everything inside of you. With an intensely beating heart, you scooted closer to Yoongi’s side and opted out to brush blond strands of hair out of his eyes. No matter what you were feeling inside of you, you had morals, so you turned your entire body away from him to face your wall. You couldn’t do this to him, even if he was drunk.

↠↞

Yoongi awoke the next morning feeling hazy and completely out of it. He tried to push his back down to face the ceiling, but everything was moving in slow motion and he wanted to throw up. As soon as he adjusted to the brightness of the room, he took in a deep breath and sat up on his elbows.

“What the fuck.” Yoongi croaked trying to grasp the situation. He glanced around the room wondering why he was missing his desk setup and midi keyboard. He recognized a certain bookshelf as well as a particular sushi plushie sitting at the end of the mattress. “Ah, fuck, y/n.”

With whatever strength Yoongi had left inside of him, he slid off the bed and onto the balls of his feet. It felt as if the weight of the world was resting upon his shoulders and all he wanted was to lie back down.

The familiar smell of spicy ramen welcomed him as he stepped foot into the kitchen/living room area. He noticed you standing in front of your stove and beside you was a large bowl and the coffee mug he bought. You turned around to reach for the cutting board that had sliced up fish cake on top of it and nearly had a heart attack seeing Yoongi just standing there.

“Jesus fuck Yoongi! At least say something when you get up.” You placed a hand over your chest as an attempt to calm yourself. He began to laugh at first, but winced in pain feeling the side of his head throb.

He laid down on your sofa using his forearm to cover his eyes. There were many feelings floating around inside of him; pain, confusion, regret, nauseous. You joined him shortly carrying the bowl and mug for him to indulge in.

“Here, eat. You need the soup.” You lifted his legs so you could take a seat.

Yoongi let out a long sigh and sat up. “Feed me.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but you closed it realizing it was too early to argue and that Yoongi was definitely not in the mood to argue.

“Fine, ah.” You held up the pair of chopsticks with ramen noodles pinched in between. The hot soup dripped onto your hand which was there to avoid it dropping onto the floor. Yoongi leaned forward, obviously in pain, and captured the noodles with lips not caring if it was piping hot or not. You stared at his lips and fought the blush that was rising to your cheeks. Now was not the time to think about what happened last night.

“Y/n, about last night… I’m sorry.” Yoongi propped an elbow on his knee and brought his chin to rest on his palm.

“It’s alright, Yoongs. How are you feeling?”

“Like shit.” He took another bite of the ramen. “In all ways possible. Some things are a blur.”

“D-Do you remember why you’re in my dorm?” You asked hesitantly.

“Um, yeah. Yeah, I do… do you?” He spoke slowly. Yoongi’s facial expression changed and leaned back against the sofa.

“I-I do actually.” All of the conversations you had with Yoongi the previous night played in your head. You couldn’t imagine what he was feeling at the moment.

“Y/n, I—she—I don’t know why Seolhyun—“ Yoongi choked on his words.

“It’s okay, Yoongi. It’s really okay.” You assured him, still hurt by Seolhyun’s assumption, but he didn’t need to know that.

It got quiet for a moment and Yoongi was still trying to find the right words to say. He obviously remembered his fight with Seolhyun and he felt ashamed.

“Thank you, y/n. For everything, especially for dealing with my drunk ass.” Yoongi sat back up again and placed his hand on your shoulder.

“It’s no problem. I’m always here for you, Yoongi.” You smile at him still fighting your own emotions.

“I didn’t say anymore stupid stuff, did I?” You suddenly remembered the last thing he muttered before drifting off to sleep and it made you uneasy. But again, it was something he didn’t need to know.

“Nope. You just kept laughing to yourself and talking about how sleepy you were.” You lied trying to keep yourself together on the inside.

Yoongi chuckled and silently asked for another bite of ramen. “Good. Ah, fuck, I should text Jungkook. Just to let him know I’m alive and hungover.” He slipped his hands into the pockets of his basketball shorts but came up empty.

“I’ll get your phone. I’m gonna make myself a cup of coffee anyways.” You placed the chop sticks back into the bowl and stood up. “Eat, Yoongi. Please.”

Yoongi smiled and slowly nodded his head. He watched you disappear into your room for a couple of seconds and came back to toss his phone to him. As you waltzed in your kitchen, he couldn’t tear his focus away from you.

You were always so caring and selfless towards others since he met you and it was something he admired. Even if you both playfully bickered over small things, you were always patient with him and always understanding. He felt his stomach turn and it wasn’t because of the nausea.

He reached for his cup and smiled at the little orange cat that was painted on the outside. Cats weren’t always his favorite animal, but ever since you couldn’t stop texting him multiple photos of kittens and cats, he had a change of heart. Soon after, you returned mixing your caffeinated beverage in your own coffee mug that had a turtle on the outside.

“What?” Yoongi didn’t realize how long he was staring at you until you spoke.

“Nothing.” He bit back a smile behind the coffee mug as he took a sip. “Feed me.” You tilted your head and gave him a fed up look, but you still picked up the bowl of ramen and gave it another good stir.

As you fed him another bite of ramen noodles, some of the soup spilled from his lips and onto his chin. You immediately set the ramen aside to reach forward and wipe it away with your fingers. Yoongi’s breath was caught in his throat and for the first time in a while, he felt butterflies in his stomach.

♡ rae jagi

#bangtan boys #bts #bts scenarios #suga #suga scenarios #yoongi #suga angst #bts angst #o lordt #yoongz #rae writes

78 notes · View notes

sebbybooks · 7 years

Text

Wildflowers (PT3)

Sebastian Stan x Fanfiction Warnings: Smut, Language 🍃Tagged for Updates🍃 @crystallimythium @multifandomluv7 @buckyappreciationsociety @bunchofandoms @deanmonslittleangel @psychicwitchphilosopher @seargantbcky @learisa @mjuikoli @ophcelia @sleepdeprivedchildren @aesthetic-bbygoats (*A/N*- Because film school just started back it felt like it took me forever to find time to sit down and finish this. Sorry for the delay and I hope you enjoy this last part as much as I did! If you want to be added to my permanent tag list for future posts just let me know and I will be happy to add your name to the bunch. Also if you want to be removed from my permanent tag list again just let me know:) -Noelle "Hard to sit here and be close to you, and not kiss you."- F.S.F I find it interesting how the most memorable conversations you have with someone usually start off with an unforgettable question. "Are you here alone?" I had worked up the courage for over an hour creating fictional one liners on how I could spark up a conversation with the guy across the room. He stayed to himself all evening, engaging in occasional conversations with people that walked up to him. I asked around diligently trying to find out any information about him, but no one seem to have known who he was. A couple of my mother's friends carried the same suspicion as to who he could be , despite not knowing who he was they still remained perpetually fixated on him. "Well who wants to know?" His raspy voice sounded like a confluence of accents. It was deep enough to sink me into a pit of curiosity, but at the same time light enough to rise his enigmatic presence causing me to stay. "Everyone." I answered. He titled his head to look pass me and I watched as his eyes scanned the area. People were all over scattered amongst themselves with a new freshly colored wine in their glass ever so often. We all stood under a gigantic white tent with a hardwood floor underneath us. Tables and chairs sanctioned off in a corner with an open bar that never not stayed busy. Despite the fact guest were invited to try a new flavor wine every half hour. He leaned back toward me, almost trying to hide his broad frame in front of me. " I see." I turned around to understand what he was referring to. He had caught the attention of quite a few admirers. "You can almost smell the pheromones from over here." I must've caught him by surprise because he laughed till he choked. "How many of those have you had?" I asked, slightly laughing with him. "Not enough." He huffed turning over his glass till he clutched the bottom. "Uh oh I hear sorrow in your voice I must be going now!" I said jokingly pretending to turn around and leave. "So soon? You didn't even stay for the pity party I was about to throw." He said. "Was there even going to be cake?" I asked in a disappointed tone. "Actually no cake this time considering it's my second one." His smiled faded and there was a sense of grayness that filled his face. I felt though as if I pried any further I might've hit a nerve. Considering we didn't know each other I decided it was best I left the subject alone. Thinking back to it I wondered if I asked him what was wrong would the chronological events that took place that night have changed if I had. "Do you wanna get out of here?" He asked me prompting the conversation into a completely different category of topic. I suppose he interpreted my facial expression for what it was. I was completely taken aback but I wasn't surprised or offended. Because in all honesty in one of the imaginable conversations I had with him in my head before coming up to him, I was holding my breath hoping he would ask. He clutched his face like you would do if you had a brain freeze. Almost regretting that he had even tried his luck and asked. "I'm sorry I didn't know what I was thinking. I am really not myself tonight." He let out a dry humorless laugh saying that last part like it was to himself. "It's fine. I mean at least try to be a little bit modest next time." I grinned. "Noted, but isn't that why you came over here?" He asked me, raising both brows. His whole ora shifted like he was confident in the way he conducted himself. Arrogant nonetheless, but I found it to be sexy as hell. There was a little voice in my head telling me to take my cue and turn around. Part of me questioned that weary voice, but then there was this other voice daring me to do more. "You know I was actually wondering since I first spotted you if you were here with anyone and if you were fuck that lucky bastard for letting you stand by yourself all night." He said etching closer to me. We eyed each other intensely and call me crazy but our energy was electrifying. I could almost feel it running through me. "When I was little I use to pretend I was running away from home. I'd never get far because I always ended up in my mother's garden and hide in there for hours. First couple of times I did it she couldn't find me after a while she eventually stopped looking because she knew where I had ran off to." "You mean that big maze over there is a garden?" He asks, his eyes tracked my gaze and followed them beyond the tent and into the field of wildflowers. My voice became quieter. "It looks better once you're inside. That's if you want to see it." The words I spoke came out faster than I anticipated. He looked at me like he was trying to understand my exact sentiment. Catching a fleeting glimpse of my soul, I suppose I guess he liked what he saw. He lifted the corners of his mouth into a smile. "My mother always told me to never follow a beautiful woman into her secret garden." He warns. "That's oddly specific." I shake my head slightly assessing if he was joking or not. "Well my mother warned my sister and I to never trust a well dressed stranger who stands alone at parties." I said in a matter of fact speech. He grabbed a bottle of unopened wine from the rack beside him and picked up another glass, now clutching two. He extended out his arm waiting for me to loop mine through. "Here is to not listening to our parents." He said as I laced my arm into his. I could barely sleep. If I closed my eyes I could still feel myself very much awake. The memory of Sebastian taunted me mercifully, yet I couldn't stop playing the moment in my head over and over again. I soon was relinquished from it all at when the image of my sister's stoic and angry expression made my stomach twist in knots. I was careless even though I didn't know I needed to be careful. None of this was my fault and yet I felt guilty. I looked for Brooklyn after dinner, so that I could try and explain to her what happened. She barely stopped walking to listen. I waited for her to come to her room, so I sat there waiting sitting down on the floor against the wall. When she finally came upstairs she couldn't even look at me. I stood up and right before I could get the first I'm sorry out of my mouth she twisted the knob on her door and flatly said "Goodnight, little sister" before slamming the door shut. I couldn't sulk in bed any longer. I could see underneath my curtains daylight peeking in. I groggily walked down stairs still dressed like I was ready for bed. My oversized white cotton shirt drooped down in front of me, while my shorts hid under my shirt. The floor felt cold under my feet and I was startled when I hit the last step because someone came zipping by me at the speed of light carrying boxes. It was chaotic downstairs. With all the shit pilling up on my mind, my brain went completely clear over the fact today was mom's birthday. I took uncoordinated strides into the kitchen carefully trying not to bump into anyone holding decorations or food. Once I got into the kitchen I saw mom standing behind the wide marble countertop. She appeared to be utterly smiley this morning. I heard laughter coming from her direction I just didn't know it was hers because the laughter was mixed with another persons voice. Sebastian was sitting on a stool across from her. He was still in what I assumed what he slept in as well, gray sweatpants and a dark blue shirt that clung tightly to his skin. I didn't want to be weird and notice every little detail and the not so little details about him. His arms were crossed on the counter top as he leaned over a cup of from the aroma I detected coffee. "Good Morning Caroline!" My mother's voice greeted me to a very upbeat tune. It was certainly chipper than it was last night. I still hadn't forgot that she wanted to get around and tell me something. For the mean time however I was just going to pretend I did. "Happy Birthday Mom." I said while I hugged her. "Morning." I heard Sebastian say. I lifted my chin nodding my head to interpret a greeting without having to actually speak to him. "Thank you sweetie." She said as she kissed my cheek. Once she let go of me she swiveled around to the stove behind her reaching for a copper coffee pot. "Coffee?" "Yes please." I say as I grab a mug from the rack next to the coffee maker. I held my mug out in from of me as she pours coffee into it. The strong smell alone wakes me up. I fix it to my liking and I felt both my mom and Sebastian eyes stay glued to my every move. Sebastian and I sip our coffees in unison and I finally take a look at his face. I wonder did he have the same restless night I had and I wondered why I cared? Every time we happen to make eye contact with each other I get a pang of bittersweet feeling. It's like that emotion you experience when you're done with a really good book that you don't want to end. You're frustrated ,curious and , angry because it can't be over? What happens next after the good parts passed? Sebastian for me is that book, because our story couldn't possibly continue. He was already living in the pages of someone else's. "Tess was just telling me you love to cook." Sebastian says very casually still looking at me. My mother looks back and forth from Sebastian and me, eyeing us like she knew something that we didn't. "Umm. . . yeah I can make a pretty decent meal when I follow the recipe." I say with my mug clutched tightly in the palm of my hands and I keep it near my face. The heat radiating off of it started to make my hands sweat. Why was I so damn nervous talking to him all of a sudden? My mother swallowed waving her hand in my direction. "Oh she's just saying that! She can prepare anything you name and make it taste like the best thing you have ever eaten." "Oh really?" Sebastian asked looking past my mother straight at me. Why must he insist on looking at me like that? Mom turned slightly putting her hand on my shoulder like she was recalling a memory she wasn't quite sure of. "Remember when you were little what was it that you made everyone try? You were so excited because it was the first thing you made on your own." She pursed her lips while she squeezed her chin in her hand. That was the gesture she made when was lost in the many thoughts in her mind. "Honey toast." I said closing my eyes hoping she wouldn't carry out this conversation. "Honey toast!" She exclaimed. "Caroline was so proud of herself when she made that." Mom chuckled. Sebastian reciprocated a smile not sure if he was missing a joke he was left out on. "What was special about this toast?" He asks, as he took another sip of his coffee. The way he hunched over made his shoulders look broader and the muscles in his arms tighter. I was clearly letting my thoughts enter uncharted territory yet again. My mother and I look at each other and speak at the same time. "Nothing." We both laughed. "Well if you remember how to make it I would love to try it sometime." Sebastian said. "It's seriously nothing to it." I say sheepishly turning away from him. "Excellent! Then you wouldn't mind making us some." Mom said, shaking my shoulders. I started to protest the idea but she held her hand up to stop me. "It's my birthday you can't say no to your mother." "Tess there's a slight crises by the gazebo that need your attention about where to hang the lanterns." A short woman who frantically spoke with bangs that practically hung so low it covered her eyes. Mom took a deep breath before plastering a smile on her face. "Im sure it's not that pragmatic, but I'll take a look." Mom said to her in a calming voice though I could detect a little annoyance. "I'm never off! I work even on my birthday." She laughs. The woman laughs with her only because she probably felt she had to. I'm suddenly left alone with Sebastian. I stand in my same spot awkwardly chipping away paint on the outer part of my mug. "So does it take a long time to prepare this famous dish?" Sebastian teased. "You weren't actually serious? " I asked, eyeing him carefully. He nodded his head slowly. "I'm getting hungrier by the minute." I think it over in my head decisively. Was I even suppose to be talking to Sebastian? If Brooklyn saw me in his vicinity that would just add fuel to the fire. Truthfully I don't even know how my sister would react. Her behavior at dinner was so. . . peculiar. She carried on like everything was fine. Engaging in conversation with our mother, occasionally telling jokes. Whereas Sebastian and I sat in total and utter confusion. Brooklyn acted like finding my necklaces in the pocket of her boyfriend's jacket who before last night I pretended I never even met was a innocent coincidence. When I tried talking to her she remained dismissive, knowing my older sister's characteristics I knew something wasn't right. I got out the ingredients I needed, even though the recipe didn't call for much. 1/2 stick of butter, 2 table spoons of natural honey, 1 table spoon of ground cinnamon, and 1 table spoon of vanilla. I mixed it all in a bowl with a rubber spatula paying no attention to the attractive distraction in front of me. He looked at me in silence entirely too long, though his eyes tells that his mind is a million miles away. I turned around to grab a loaf of bread to retrieve a few slices. When I turned back around Sebastian was gone from his seat. He had moved from his chair and was standing in front of me. Holding the bread in my hand I took a panoramic glance to make sure no one was paying attention. "What are you doing?" I yelled out in a harsh whisper. "I wanted a better view." Sebastian said, looking down at me. I nudged his body so that I could get around him to so that I could smear the mixed honey butter to the slices of toast. Suddenly, I could feel him standing behind me looking over my shoulder. It sent an unwanted amount of chills down my spine. Sebastian wasn't even touching me, but the memory of his hands were marked in my skin. I kept looking down at what I was doing and not giving him the attention he wanted. Still busy with the task I had in front of me. Leaning his face closer I felt the scruffy texture from the side of his face tickling the side of mine. I slid away almost stealth like thankful I didn't trip as I went over to the oven to slide the tray inside. When I closed it and turned back around straightening my posture, Sebastian was still there. "Brooklyn, my mom, or anyone could see us. Are you crazy?" I ask him. "We are just two people having a conversation and possibly." Sebastian crossed his arms across his chest. "And maybe you are too." "Me?" I say to him feeling dumbstruck. " Tell me you don't really think the two us met by coincidence? We both knew what we wanted from each other and either one of us could have put an end to it at any moment." His tone was argumentative and I could tell he was serious. " I was out of my element and I guess you could say I was feeling bold but you-" My voice broke off. "You were there as my sister's date." I say through gritted teeth. "And all night where was she?" Sebastian answer came out with no hesitation. Like he was asking me a question he wanted me to have the answer to. "There's no justification in what happened between us and believe me when I say I truly wish we could've met under different circumstances." I made a noise that sounded like a muffled laughed. We could've avoided this mess entirely if we had just told each other our names in the first place. I should've been more responsible. Thinking back it suddenly dawned on me that I had every opportunity to give him one small detail about myself. Instead we carried on into the night like reunited friends drunk off of the atmosphere. Being in his presence did something to me. I rubbed my hands across my face , then against my forehead continuing to run my hands into my hair. "I tried so hard to fall asleep last night. Am I a bad person?" I whispered. "Being restless doesn't fall under the qualifications of being a bad person." Sebastian smiled, as he squinted his eyes in regards of what I said. "No, but thinking about you all night makes me one." I huffed. The spaces around us started to dissipate with people busy at work. Everyone seemed to keep migrating out into the backyard. For a fleeting second I stopped worrying if Brooklyn would walk into the kitchen at any moment. I didn't want it to seem like I wanted to rush into his arms, but that was exactly what I wanted to do. He kept both of his arms outstretched gripping the edges of the stove behind me. Leaving me in closed in his Sebastian made cage. There was no escaping him now. Quietness was all we had left. I felt a pulse rage everywhere and I kept my sight locked on his mouth waiting for him to either speak or kiss me. It was an unconscionable amount of tension arising that made my blood run hotter and hotter. Staying away from something that you can't have causes a certain madness to fester inside of you. Eventually claiming it as yours makes a wrong temporarily feel right. I titled my head up to his face like someone had pushed me to do it. My lips fell against his bottom lip and I felt almost too overjoyed to feel him again. I didn't want to let myself get carried away, because Sebastian remained motionless. He looked down at me with a brooding look in his eye, mixed with a heavy dose of confusion. What was I even thinking? I repeated to myself in the back of my mind over and over again. I started to feel regretful over my actions until I noticed Sebastian had snapped out of his daze. In a very careful and slow motion he pulled me closer against him. Sebastian brought his lips very gently kiss to my throat. His mouth roamed at will up my neck, no longer leaving delicate and faint kisses alongside it. Devoured would say the least. I gave up all my resistance for him, closing my eyes as I felt myself slipping away into his consumption. Sebastian's mouth hovered over mine and in the catch of a breath he kissed me. It was like a long and anticipated await. Our lips parted widely in a desperate but graceful synchronized movement. His hand cupped the back of my neck and my hands were placed at the bottom of his shirt grabbing fistfuls of fabrics. It wasn't until the sound of someone clearing their throat made me wish I was invisible. And then all at once Sebastian turned his head, his chest was slightly heaving. He eyed the couple across the bar stools who looked back bemusedly. Laura, played with her earring in her ear darting her eyes from the corners of the room and back at me. Her nervous grin was so wide that I assumed her face would lose elasticity from smiling so much. "Didn't mean to interrupt." Finn said, waving his hand. I stepped slightly away from Sebastian holding on tightly to the back of my neck. "You guys are here early." I say. "Yeah well when Brooklyn Reeves calls you several times demanding that we bring our asses over here early. We made sure to make our asses move." Laura laughed sincerely, hitting Finn on the chest with the back of her hand. "And plus it's your Mom's big day we wanted to help out anyway we can." Finn shoved his hands in his pockets gazing at me for awfully too long before I turned my head to Sebastian, who still has not said a word. "I'm sure she will be thrilled to see you both." I said, still causally glancing over at Sebastian. By the look of his face it was honestly starting to worry me because he looked like he had seen a ghost. Laura tapped her nails against the marble hardtop to get my attention. Even though she was trying to be discrete she was not doing a very good job at it. "Who is he?" She whispered over to me rather loudly. I placed my hand on his shoulder before introducing him then I quickly moved it away. "This is Finn and Laura, childhood friends of Brooklyn." I introduced. "Nice to meet you -" Her words lingered waiting for a name as she reached her hand out to shake his. "Sebastian." He said briskly. "Brooklyn's boyfriend." Laura's bright smiled diminished and she dropped his hand. "I didn't know she was dating someone?" Finn uttered out, like he was also taken by surprise. Laura's mouth was slightly gaped open looking at me like she was waiting to hear my explanation. I didn't expect him to be so fucking bold. He placed his arm behind my back and leaned his face closer to my ear. "Caroline your toast is burning." I sharply turned around pulling the oven door down to see on a silver tray four charred pieces of what should have been golden crystallized honey toast now burnt. I reached over for an oven mitten so that I could pull them out. When I looked back up ,Laura began to twist her earring again out of some sort of nervous habit and Finn looked as uncomfortable as everyone felt. "My mother would like to know that you are here and Brooklyn as well." I said to them, hinting for them to leave. Laura looked hesitantly from Sebastian to me, her eyes darting frantically. Finn took her by the arm and they walked off in the opposite direction When they were finally out of my sight I turned to Sebastian who still wore a look of dismay on his face. "Why the hell did you do that?" I yelled at him swinging the oven mitt near him. Sebastian didn't even flinch, he stayed motionless as he watched the area Laura and Finn veered off too. He looked almost upset. "I think you need to go talk to Brooklyn." "Why? We were never meant to last." His tone was as hard as his face. Sebastian was starting to act ominous. I turned on the fan above the oven to try and clear the smell of the burnt food. Sebastian had started to leave out of the kitchen but I jogged after him. "What are you talking about? One minute you're making out with me the next you have become morose!" My voice was starting to become less composed. Becoming more resigned, his lip twitched as he watched the movements out of the window. "I didn't think she would actually invite him." He said flatly. "Who?" I started to sound like a desperate owl. I stared out of the same large window as he did. I was confused more than ever because of the coded language he spoke. We stood there together in silence as onlookers. "You are not very observant are you Chef Caroline?" He murmured. I chuckled not sure whether to answer that question or feel offended. "What's that suppose to mean?" I asked. He sighed. "When you see it come find me before I leave and maybe we will have one final pity party. This time I'll bring the cake." He brushed his hand against my arm before walking away. I wanted to stop him, but I knew I had to let him go. An hour had passed since I last saw Sebastian, since I saw anyone really. Everyone apparently had gone missing. As I got dressed and put on the dress my mother oh so desperately wanted wanted me to wear. I played the last few conversations I had with Sebastian in my head like a broken record. He was perfectly fine until Laura and Finn showed up then something happened. I clasped my necklace around my neck struggling a few times to get the clasp to open. Once it did I pressed the crescent moon against my chest. Walking back downstairs again I saw Laura in the place Sebastian once sat. Once she saw it was me I expected her to look at me with utter disgust. Instead when she noticed it was me she looked though as if she was crying and quickly climbed off of the stool and ran off weeping some more. I thought about going after her, but the way she took off suggested she didn't want my company. I walked outside and the warm breeze had hit me at once. Causing my dress to fly back in the wind around me. The sound of air whooshed through my ears. Music was faintly playing, lilac and silver balloons were tied almost everywhere. Off to the side were rows and rows of tiny cupcakes some with purple frosting and some with white frosting that had edible pearls sprinkled on top. Tall macaroon towers were on each table next to fruit tarts. I stole a tiny blueberry off of one as I strolled to the next table. My mother's birthday cake sat on that one. It was a round three tier white cake, covered with a colorful arrangement of beautiful flowers. I looked at up and I noticed I was steps away from the pathway Sebastian and I stumbled upon once upon a time ago. I hiked up the bottom of my dress so that it wouldn't leave stains and I took a walk down memory lane. I slipped off of my shoes so that I could feel the grass underneath my feet. Once I reached the steeping stones I knew I was getting closer. I saw fallen lemons and the sight made me smile because of the way we fooshly tried to take them. I stopped walking when I heard noise coming from behind the yellow daffodils. It sounded like someone was engaging in pleasurable acts. I was ready to storm around and condemn them for exposing themselves at my mother's party. When I saw it was my sister and Finn I quickly jumped backed bumping into my mother. "If my garden walls could talk, the vines would blush." {Part 3 out of 3}

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian fluff #sebastian x reader #sebastian stan fic #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan story #sebastian stan smut #bucky fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky imagine #bucky barnes x reader #marvel fluff #marvel fanfiction #marvel smut #bucky barnes #sebbytrash #sebby stan

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sanzochan · 7 years

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The Librarians: Shape of My Heart

Title: Shape of My Heart Author: Alasse Fefalas (sanzochan) Fandom: The Librarians Characters: Eve Baird, Flynn Carsen Pairings: Eve Baird/Flynn Carsen Rating: K Word Count: 1358 words Summary: Eve comes home to find the kitchen in a mess and Flynn in the middle of it all. (Overdue) Valentine's day fic. Evlynn. One-shot. Shape of My Heart It had been a long day in the Library. It always was on special days like this. The five concurrent cases stretched out their resources, but the Librarians still managed to deal with them all. With the sun setting behind her, all Eve wanted to do was to go home and lie down on the couch. The first thing Eve was greeted with when she came home was a loud clanging of a metal pan dropping onto the floor, followed by a soft curse. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips. Flynn was home... and doing something in the kitchen. Intrigued, she tiptoed quietly over to her kitchen and peeked inside. It was a mess. Her granite kitchen tops were dusted with flour, bowls scattered all around, there were two pots on the stove, and what was that streak of red on her wall? Flynn stood in the middle of everything, his back to her. Despite the apron tied around his waist, there were still some brown streaks staining the back of his white shirt. His sleeves were folded up above his elbow, and she could see specks of white on his arm. "What happened here?" Eve wondered out loud, making Flynn jump in surprise. Flynn turned around quickly, his hands holding a piping bag. Immediately, he put it down on the counter. "Eve! You're home! You're home... early." "It's seven thirty. That's not early," she replied, chuckling at the state he was in. Flour covered his hair and cheeks, and there was some red batter stuck near his jaw. Grabbing a kitchen towel, she gently wiped it off his face, kissing the newly-cleaned spot. "Were you trying to bake a cake, or did a magical cake come in here and attack you? Because if it did, I honestly wouldn't be surprised anymore." Flynn grinned and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer to him. "If I blame the cake monster, do I still have to clean up?" Laughing, Eve cupped his face and kissed him, tasting chocolate in his mouth. "Nothing's gonna save you from clean up, Librarian." "It's entirely your mixer's fault," pouted Flynn. "It went crazy." "Yeah, the mixer," she repeated, rolling her eyes at him. Pointing at the streak of red across her wall, Eve asked, "How did you get food colouring on the wall though? That's going to be hell to take off..." "I was trying to get the tube open and accidentally squeezed too hard," he said sheepishly. "And don't worry. I'm sure Jenkins has something for that. I think we can use that solution he uses to get rid of the grout in the tiles..." "Hopefully that'll work. Red food colouring is the worst," she said, frowning. "So," she said, smiling at him, "what were you trying to make?" Eve tried to look around Flynn to see what he was making but gently pushed her away. "Don't look! It's not done yet!" he said quickly, turning her around and ushering her to the bedroom. "Go shower and change. I promise I'll be ready by the time you're done," he said, kissing her on her cheek. Exiting the room, he closed the door behind him. Eve noticed a royal blue dress laid out on the bed and chuckled. Quickly, she showered and got ready. Pulling on the sleeveless peplum dress, she checked herself in front of the mirror. The v of the dress ended just in the middle of her chest, leading down to the faux gold belt above the ruffles of her dress. The bottom half of the dress hugged her hips, ending above her knees. She couldn't help but grin to herself. Flynn always had good taste. With her make-up on, she knocked on her door. "Can I come out now?" There was a flurry of activity from beyond the door. Eve was curious, but she was also patient. Eventually, Flynn opened the door. He was fully dressed in a white suit and grey sneakers, his hair and face no longer covered in flour, and a stalk of a red carnation in his hand. "Hi," he greeted, almost gawking at her. "You look beautiful." "Thank you. Someone left a dress on my bed, you see. Thought I might give it a spin." "Good choice," he chuckled. Flynn held out the flower stalk. "For you, my Guardian." "Thank you, Librarian." Eve took the carnation and took a whiff of it. She had grown to love the flowers despite not liking them in the first place. It always reminded her of how he smelled. Flynn offered his arm. "Shall we take a very short walk to your dining room?" Laughing, Eve slipped her arm into his. Flynn led her down the apartment, explaining to her why he was late. "I'd have come home earlier to prepare everything, but Cupid's always been difficult to handle, even more so when he's drugged. We're so not letting him near any teenage covens any time soon. I sort of lost track of time trying to bake the cake because the mixer went a little crazy and maybe I shouldn't have tried baking and getting dinner ready at the same time. Who knew baking was so hard?! It's just food science! It shouldn't be this hard!" "Should've just followed Betty Crocker's recipe," tutted Eve. "Can't go wrong with eggs, oil and water. Plus, it saves you from-- whoa." Eve's dining area was decorated with strings of white fairy lights. On the table was a dinner setting for two, a small lit candle, a tray of baked pasta, an unopened bottle of white wine, and a heart-shaped cake with white frosting. On the cake was written, "Happy V-day!" in red icing. "I couldn't fit 'Valentine's' so I just shortened it," Flynn explained. "Did you, by any chance, get shot by Cupid's arrow or something?" asked Eve incredulously. "Technically no. I did get scratched by it just now accidentally but nothing happened. No side effects at all!" laughed Flynn. "Yeah, about that... for someone who doesn't really celebrate Valentine's day, this is really... something." Turning to him, she cupped his face. "Are you sure you're okay?" Chuckling, Flynn gave her a peck on her lips. "Trust me, Eve. I'm fine. I just thought it'd be nice to have a quiet evening together. Just the two of us." Eve felt her chest warming. With all the hecticness in their lives, it had slipped her mind how much of a romantic Flynn was. "Thank you," she said softly. "I love it." Beaming, Flynn pulled out a chair for her. As she sat down, she took in everything that was in front of her. She had to stifle her laughter when she saw that the cake was a little... odd. "Ah, you noticed the cake," mumbled Flynn as he sat down opposite her. "It's a little flat on one side, isn't it?" Eve smirked, still trying to contain herself. "I, err, forgot to turn it in the oven while I was preparing the pasta," he confessed. "Pasta la vista, heart." She shook her head at the bad pun but the smirk gave away that she loved it. "Hey, as long as it tastes good, I'm not complaining. It does taste good, right?" she inquired, raising an eyebrow at him. "I hope it does," he shrugged. "So... what do you think? A little too much?" Eve leaned over and took his hand, weaving her fingers through his. It was more than she had expected - in fact, she hadn't expected them to celebrate it at all. Giving him a warm smile, she rubbed her thumb against his. "It's perfect." Fin. -- A/N: Okay, I know I'm late (again, as always) but I had a lot of work to do in this period so I could only write at night. I hadn't expected this to have gotten so long... it was only supposed to be a drabble. Seriously how did it get this long?! I don't even know. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it! Give me your thoughts! Good, bad, anything! Thanks for reading! http://archiveofourown.org/works/9772463

#the librarians #evlynn #eve x flynn #eve baird #flynn carsen #valentines #valentine's day #the librarians fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #sanzochan writes fanfiction #sanzochan writes #how the frack do you do the read more thing again on mobile #sorry #humor #romance #fluff #1k words #rated k

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loeyparker · 7 years

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honest - dick grayson

word count: 1.744

warnings: can’t have an imagine without angst

plot: inspired by honest by the neighborhood

a/n: i just really love him i couldn’t resist not making this my first 2017 written thing alsO I WROTE SOMETHING FINALLY!!! !

The wooden floor was clustered and you could barely make out the shapes of the objects in the darkness that took over the loft.

About four boxes lay unopened next to each other and a fifth, larger one is on the kitchen table. Fairy lights hang down from its sides but they’re left abandoned, unplugged.

There are dirty dishes in the sink and a half empty coffee mug on the counter close to the dish soap. There’s also a wine bottle not far away from the mess, and it’s almost empty –you were guilty of that one.

Faint voices could be heard in the living room, but not yours or Dick’s. They were coming from a random movie Dick has chosen after dinner.

A blue hoodie was right next to the TV. It was probably thrown there by Dick when he got home a few hours back, but you couldn’t make yourself to pick it up.

On the coffee table that was placed between the green couch you were sitting on and the TV were stacked two books about self-discovery, owned by Dick. A small plant you bought was also on there, along with some Christmas ornaments you were meant to put up before being interrupted by a phone call that messed up your entire festive mood.

Dick was sitting on the opposite side of the couch to you. One of his legs was resting on the coffee table, the other on the carpet. He kept glancing your way every few minutes and didn’t seem interested in the movie at all.

You were leaning against the right armrest of the couch, pretending to care about the film.

Even through you wanted to ask Dick a million questions per minute, you stayed patient. You didn’t move; you just waited for him to say something – anything.

The only thing running through your mind was the thought that maybe, you made it too hard for him to open up. You’ve known ever since you met him that there was something big going on in his life and that he was secretive about it.

However, you had hoped he’d open up and share his burdens with you.

You hoped until this afternoon, when you answered a call to his phone from the landlord, thinking it had something to do with the loft both of you shared.

Only it wasn’t your building’s landlord –it was a lady from Blüdhaven, wanting to set a time and place with Dick to give him the keys of his new apartment.

You just wanted him to tell you what was going on, you just wanted him to say something. He had been gone for a few months and now after coming home and avoiding the topic of his trip, you found out he wants to move to a different city.

You were wrong thinking he’ll open up eventually.

You were wrong and you wanted to tell him that –to just rant about him not trusting you despite all your efforts and love. You couldn’t stand the silence between you two anymore; you just wanted to fill out the space.

A few more moments passed of you glancing his way with unease, waiting for something –you didn’t know for what.

Dick noticed you looking at him at last, but he didn’t exactly know what to do. He could feel the tension in the room and he could read the distress, the anxiety on your face. After all, he was best at reading people and he was even better at reading you.

He placed his feet on the fluffy, pink carpet you chose after moving in, and rested his elbows on his knees. From the position he was in, with his head down, he noticed a bit of his Nightwing costume peeking out from underneath the couch, where he previously stashed it so you wouldn’t notice it.

Could he have saved your relationship if he shared his secret?

He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure about anything anymore.

You had noticed in the past weeks that Dick wasn’t acting like his usual self. He was less chatty, gloomier. He stopped doing the things he loved. He bought self-help books and it caused you actual, physical pain to know he was hurting but not knowing why or how you could help.

With a soft sigh, you scooted over to Dick on the couch and placed your head on his back and held him close to you.

You just wanted to help him.

“I wish you could be honest with me.” You whispered and he sighed.

He wanted that too, he really did. But he also didn’t want to bring you into that dangerous part of his life. For a while, he was able to leave Nightwing at the door and just be Dick Grayson with you, in that shared loft of yours. And he loved that.

But lately, he couldn’t separate the two lives anymore. He felt like he lost himself and he was aware that was hurting everyone around him –especially you.

“Why are you still here?” Dick turned to you and you backed away slightly, frowning.

“What do you mean?”

“I haven’t been the best boyfriend lately, I can’t bring myself to tell you all the work stuff and-“ He looked away and clenched his jaw, before continuing with “why’d you stick around? Why’d you stay with me?”

“Because I love you, Dick.” You tucked a few strands of your hair behind your ears. “I stuck around even though I knew you weren’t always honest about your work stuff, about your trip,” you took a deep breath before adding “about Blüdhaven.”

Hearing that, Dick shut his eyes and leaned back into the sofa, hands covering his face.

You knew about the apartment.

“Why’d you fake it? The way you felt about me –about us?” You simply asked, eyes not leaving his tired face.

He looked at you. “I never faked my feelings for you.”

None of you moved from your spots. Your heart was beating faster than ever and your hands were shaking. You placed them under your thighs so your nerves wouldn’t be too visible to Dick.

“But?” You raised your eyebrows, feeling as if he had more to say.

Dick looked at you with hesitance. Just like he did every time he contemplated coming to you in full Nightwing suit and just tell the truth.

“I’ve been thinking about us.” He spoke slowly, his voice low.

Your heart sank.

“Something happened during my trip and I-“ God, he wanted to tell you about The Court, The Raptor, everything. Then it would all make sense.

But he just couldn’t burden you with all of that –with his life as Nightwing.

“I lost myself.” He leaned forward and grabbed his books. He held them in his hands and you glanced at them quickly –the self-help books that he came home with one night and tried to read before bed. “I tried to fix it with these but I couldn’t.”

With a swift motion, he threw them all the way across the room where they hit a wall.

“I tried to save this” he motioned between you two “but I can’t, (Y/N).”

You nodded “You have to take care of yourself first, Dick. You need to get out of Gotham, focus on finding who you are again.” You spoke softly.

“That’s why I got that apartment in Blüdhaven-“

“I know now, I just wish you would’ve told me yourself, and not your future landlady.” You gave him a small smile.

He puffed.

“We’re just gonna take a break until I fix myself, ok?” He placed his palms on either side of your face, and you placed your palms over his. “And I know you want to help, but I have to do it on my own.” He wanted to get away from his friends and family for a while and just focus on himself.

You nodded.

“It’s not a break-up.” He spoke again.

“We’re just hitting pause?” Your voice cracked.

“We’re just hitting pause.” He slowly pulled you closer in a kiss. It was meant to be short, but passionate –a farewell kiss. Both your heartbeats quickened, the TV noise faded away. Dick’s hands felt soft against your cheeks –almost like silk. It was strange, considering how much he fights and grips things, like the acrobat he is. His lips were soft compared to your slightly chapped ones that became victims of all the nervous biting you had done earlier.

Dick didn’t mind, though.

He was about to pull you closer, when you broke the kiss to take a breather. Both your chests rose and fell rapidly, as you regulated your breathing. Your foreheads touched, your gazes were fixed on each other.

You loved him, and he loved you.

“You go to Blüdhaven, find yourself. I won’t stand in your way.” Your hands were slowly going through his hair, pulling back the black strands that reached his eyes. “You have to find a way to be yourself again.”

Dick just pulled you closer between his legs, wrapped his arms around your torso and rested his head on your shoulder. You leaned into him and while one hand of yours stayed in his hair, the other trailed down his neck and you began drawing shapes on his back.

“The change of scenery, the lower crime-rate and the lack of super villains will be great. Maybe you can find a less stressful job and start trusting people again. Maybe you can even watch that show you’ve been wanting to see” you paused, trying to remember its name “Lost world of the warlord, I think it’s called?”

Dick chuckled and held you tighter.

“I only want the best for you, Dick.” At that, a lump began to grow in your throat. You had to pause ‘cause you would’ve gotten chocked up otherwise. Your eyes began to sting and you closed them in hope of stopping the forming tears.

“That’s why I love you, (Y/N)." He said softly.

You kept quiet after that and stayed in that position as long as Dick needed. He held you tightly, and you drew flowers on his back absentmindedly, as your eyes stayed fixed on his Nightwing suit that was poking from underneath the couch.

All you wished was for him to trust you enough to tell you about his secret identity, but you weren’t going to push.

He’ll tell you when he’s ready.

#dick grayson #nightwing #richard grayson #nightwing imagine #nightwing imagines #dc #dc imagines #dick grayson imagines #its 2 AM #I CANT BELIEVE!!! I WROTE SOMETHING #IM SO HAPPY #HOPEFULLY I DIDNT BUTCHER LOML NIGHTWING #PLS LIKE IT #FIRST 2017 IMAGINE #THIS IS MY FUCKING YEAR!!!1

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allezelizabeth · 6 years

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Carnival Cruise Lines : My First (and Last) Time Cruising

"I don't wanna be the one, but I'm gonna be the one" -- Aja the Kween

Boarding/Deboarding: What to Expect

Your trip will start outside in the Miami heat, which comes with a nice kick of humidity. You can either give your bags to a porter who will toss it with the rest of the bags or you can bring them on yourself. I suggest you take them with you. Next, prepare for the checkpoint lines and for the love of all that's holy and sacred HAVE YOUR DOCUMENTS (e.g., boarding passes and passport) READY! Don't worry about your liquids (unless it's water and alcohol), it's simply to check for weapons and such. Something I wish I knew before hand:

Each adult (21+) can bring one unopened bottle of wine.

Each person can bring 12 cans of soda or any non-alcoholic drinks that do not exceed 12 oz as long as they are not opened.

You can find their liquor and beverage policy here.

Once you get through, you'll need to get into another line to check in where you will drop off the health questionnaire and receive your Sail and Sign Card. This card is linked to your credit card on file and is also your key. DON'T LOSE IT! Then, just like boarding a plane, you'll need to wait for your group number to get called. There will be an area where you can take your picture before boarding. Have fun, take silly ones, or keep it moving. It's completely up to you. We took pictures, but didn't buy them. Don't worry there will be plenty of opportunities to take pictures.

Also, when you are docked at a port be prepared to show your Sail and Sign Card when getting off the ship, to get back on the ship and to get back into the port should you leave for an excursion. Pay attention to ship time, otherwise you are risking living at the port forever. I always bring a watch with me and this time (haha, no pun intended) it helped us since you can't trust your cell phone with this one. The location time and ship time are not the same! At Amber Cove we had to wait about 20 minutes for people who lost track of time. Don't be that guy or gal.

Your Stateroom: The Balcony is the BEST

Once you have located your room, check to ensure that all things are working. If something isn't right, call Guest Services right away or let your stateroom steward know. On the counter there should be a 'Welcome Aboard' packet. Take the time to read through it, since it will answer most of your questions. Here's what your packet will probably look like.

If you are going to book a room, get one with a balcony. We had two twin beds, a small loveseat and coffee table in our room, but add two people and some luggage, and it starts to feel tiny. When I felt stressed out, I would just go outside do some yoga or chill and eat. I spent plenty of time out there thinking, relaxing, and just existing. I brought a bluetooth speaker with me (here's the model) to kick out some jams. You might meet someone, too. Our next door neighbor introduced herself by sticking her head out into our balcony and greeting us with a smile.

Planning to sit in your room and watch TV, just skip it. There's CNN, some ship channels that show you the location of the ship, a live feed of the deck, shopping, and some cartoons. Blah.

Onboard 'Activities'

Just writing about the activities (or lack thereof) makes me angry. I waited for something to wow me, something that screamed, "OMG, if you don't do this, you will regret it." Sadly, it never happened. I was starting to feel like Bill Murray in Groundhog's Day. My friend received a coupon for the spa with a laughable discount. We did attend a comedy show the last night at sea which was pretty good. Did I tell you this was a 5-day cruise?

Each day, the housekeeping staff you will leave a pamphlet with what you need to know for the following day. I should have known what to expect when the 'top' entertainment is a selfie challenge, NFL football and half off at the arcade. You can download the full brochures here:

Sunday, January 21st - Welcome Aboard

Monday, January 22nd - A Fun Day at Sea

Tuesday, January 23nd - A Fun Day At Sea

Wednesday, January 24th - Grand Turk

Thursday, January 25th - Amber Cove

We went to the club a few nights and the DJ couldn't mix Nesquik into milk if he wanted. The music selection was all over the place. No wonder the dance floor was empty most nights. We tried the comedy club only to leave the first time around because the comedian was telling awful Dad jokes. To add insult to injury, our piña coladas were overpriced pineapple juice. Both my friend and I were looking forward to the Mega Deck Party. After spending an hour getting dolled up, we walked right into line dancing with one of the crew members yelling out dance moves into the crowd. I posted the video to my IG account.

What to Eat?

Let me start off by saying that if you hate buffets, you're going to hate the cafeteria. As with many buffets there are many unknowns. An item can look delicious, and end up being the grossest thing you have ever tasted. Looks are quite deceiving and trying to guess which one won't make your stomach do somersaults can get frustrating after a while. If I had to grade the buffet food, I would say D, the lowest passing grade. I couldn't give it an F, because I did have some good food items. Notice I didn't say MEALS? I think the final straw for me was when I was looking forward to an event they called 'Chocolate Extravaganza'.

Narrator: It was not a chocolate extravaganza.

The menu does change daily. One day you might have an American food buffet and the next it might be French. Still, pretty much ass cheeks though.

There are other 'restaurants' that you can choose from, but we only tried Guy's Burger Joint. Some cost extra, for example the sushi and coffee bars. I skipped the Chinese spot because I really have to be in the mood for Chinese food. The Mexican place was American-style Mexican food. A bit insulting to call it Mexican food. If I had seen one more fucking taco salad bowl, I was going to seriously lose my shit.

In the dining room (look at your Sail and Sign Card to see your assigned dining room), I remember having entrees and appetizers that were decent. Once in a while something would be really good and we'd spent the rest of the evening talking about it. Get an appetizer, hell get several! The beauty of sharing a meal with someone is that you can create your own buffet. Look closely at the right side of the menu, you might find that the menu options correspond to the ports of call. After Amber Cove, mangu was available as an appetizer. Also, try at least one exotic food. There will always be one item on the menu if you're a bit more adventureous. We had braised rabbit, escargot, and frog legs. The latter being my least favorite because someone in the kitchen went a little crazy with the salt.

Room service is going to save you for continental breakfast (housekeeping will leave you a form) and food after 10pm. Think deli food. I had mostly sandwiches, salads, and chocolate cake (yes, the same one from the cafeteria. It's that good). The menu is split in two as some items are only available before/after 10pm. There are things like chicken wings and even a donut sandwich for those late night munchies. Prices go up after 10pm, but still are moderately priced. Generally in the $5 to $10 range. To avoid the added surcharge, I would order cold food at about 9pm and keep it in the mini fridge. That way I had something to eat when I returned to the room. However, skip the pizza. It's the same pizza you can get for free from the 24 hour pizzeria located on the top deck. I'll save you the trouble though. The pizza tastes like wet cardboard slathered with ketchup. You're welcome.

Speaking of 24 hour food options, the soft serve machine. Not the best I've had, but it did it's job and cooled me off. After a few drinks, nothing beats a chocolate soft serve on a cake cone.

The Whirling World of Gratuities

I suggest you download the Carnival HUB App before you board and check your balance at the end of the evening.

The person who booked the trip paid gratuities upfront and I thought that included beverages. This doesn't seem to be the case, although Carnival doesn't really explain it either way. According to the Carnival web site:

"For beverage purchases, an automatic 15% gratuity will be added to the bill and the charges will be applied directly to the guest's Sail & Sign account. An automatic 15% gratuity will be added to the cover charge of the Chef’s Table and the charges will be applied directly to the guest’s Sail & Sign account. Room Service staff may be tipped as service is rendered."

In other words, you can leave a tip, on top of whatever gratuities are already tacked on (shown in red). I mean would you leave a $5 tip on $10 drink? I guess I did and it adds up. Also, the gratituities don't extend to the food ordered through room service. So how is someone supposed to know this until they are disputing a charge?

While doing laundry, a woman was visibly upset when Carnival allowed her 14 year old daughter to charge around $200 on her own Sail and Sign Card. She had placed a hold in hopes to avoid the headache which was obviously ignored. Aside from the gratuities, my only gripe was when a charge for $8.63 (that's $7.50 for two 1.5 liter water bottles and a $1.13 tip) appeared on my account. The water bottles were on the counter unopened. I took a picture and went to sort the thing out at Guest Services. It isn't the thing you want to do on the last day at sea. The line wasn't too long, but there wasn't a day that went by where I didn't see people visit Guest Services to air their grievances about something. There was a kiosk that was supposed to alleviate the clusterfuck of people, but the user interface was so bad that many left more frustrated. Not a good look.

Why I would NEVER book a cruise again: A not-so-quick rant

First of all, the boarding process was a mess. I don't care to go through a TSA style checkpoint after leaving the airport. I don't know about you, but I'd like to get my vacation going ASAP. Additonally, I don't want to have to deal with rude staff members, followed by a scripted apology AND a sales pitch.

The goodies: a 12-pack of bottled water.

As mentioned in Cruising 101: What You Should Know Before You Book Your First Cruise, there were too many misses for me to call this a budget-friendly trip. I didn't expect to have to go to Target (which you know I love to pieces) to grab items before boarding. I also didn't expect gratuities being added to drinks after my friend who booked the trip paid for gratuities up front. The rooms are small (unless you get a suite of course); therefore, ship activities are all you have when you are out at sea. If those are not up to par, you end up walking around the ship frustrated as hell. I don't want to do things that I can do back home at the mall (e.g., Build-A-Bear Workshop) or feel like I'm in Branson, Missouri. I feel Carnival dropped the ball here. If I could offer a suggestion it would be to have wide range of activities suitable for different age brackets. While some like to gamble, others want to dance or eat great food. It's nice to have a gym and spa, but those are not activities worthy of the $700 price tag. Back home that's a trip to the local 24 Hour Fitness. A second suggestion would be that if a ship has been docked for a while, it needs to pass the CarMax Quality Certified checklist. My friend and I often wonder about the folks who got our stateroom after us.

To boot, only having a pair of hours to explore a place isn't really what I'm trying to do. When we docked at Grand Turk Island (Cockburn Town), all I could see was a block of overpriced shops. BORING. I rarely use that word, but goodness gracious! It was so hot we spent our time beneath a canopy. By the time we went to check out the taxis, we didn't have enough time to tour the rest of the town. I can't pin that on one Carnival. According to several people who had taken the plunge, the taxi ride averaged $5. While many were happy to have done it, they also saw the devastation from Hurricane Irma. My friend wanted to check out the spa services and we ended up back on the boat early. Disappointing.

In the next port, Amber Cove we did go into Puerto Plata proper, but it was EXPENSIVE ($60 round trip for two people. I guess my Spanish got us a $20 discount.) and we were at the mercy of the taxi driver who was part of a network of merchants. He was personable, so it was hard to knock his hustle. The conversation was lively and we got a glimpse of his personal life. I mean how often do you get the family album while riding through the D.R.?

Our first stop was a plaza in Puerto Plata where we were taken into a church and given a tour. We found it filled with other tourists who were stuck, too. After a 15-minute 'tour,' the guide puts his hand out and asked for a tip. No more Mr. Courteous. He wants to get paid. This type of transaction was repeated a few more times.

At the Fortaleza San Felipe, we were conveniently parked in front of souvenir vendors. These ones were pushy, too. I just walked away.

While going up a mountain to see a view of the city, a woman suddenly appears asking us to go to her store to buy souvenirs. The driver informs her we are not there to shop and she leaves.

Then we were dropped off at a restaurant near the beach. The place doesn't look like much and there were other taxi drivers hanging out. The food was decent and we did enjoy the beach, but at $32 (had I used my credit card they would have charged me $41) for mofongo, two Cokes, and some chicken wings it was pretty basic. Those are Los Angeles prices!

Imagine if we had taken his offer to go to the rum and chocolate factories? $$$ To put this into perspective, I spent less money on a day trip to Giverny from Paris, which included lunch, a ticket to Monet's Gardens, AND the shuttle.

Are you a staunch solo traveler who loves to create their own adventures? This could be a hit or miss. With that said, it was hard for me to rewire my brain. From allowing someone to book the trip to sharing a space, having a set meal time and having limited options, it was a bit overwhelming for someone who is like the wind. My tolerance for inefficiency, bad food, and overpriced anything is nonexistent. Being stuck on a ship with not enough to do killed the travel vibe almost completely. I'm too much of an adventurer to ever want to travel like this again. Seriously, if any of my friends and family members are reading this:

Understand that my travel style is different than yours. I travel to LEARN about the world. My souvenirs are the experiences and memories I create along the way. Imposing any limits on me will not work in your favor.

Which brings me to my final point: Sustainability and eco-tourism.

I'm always looking for ways to reduce my carbon footprint, at home and while traveling. I don't want my vacation to do more harm than good. Cruise ships pollute our beautiful blue orb. Do your research. Here, I'll give you a head start.

Cruise Ship Report Card by Friends of the Earth

Glimmers of Hope: When Good Times Happen

I must admit I did enjoy one thing: the people. Don't get me wrong, we came across a group of folks who wanted to drive their political beliefs through our heads, even so, they were only one interaction out of many. For the most part, you will meet people from all walks of life. As an aspiring polyglot, speaking to the crew members was probably what salvaged the trip. I met people from Croatia, Ukraine, Philippines, St. Lucia, Thailand, Indonesia, Greece, India, and the list goes on. When time permitted, I would ask them to teach me simple phrases like 'Hello' and 'Thank you'. Their eyes would light up and soon enough we were on a first name basis. I started to learn things about culture and to an extent their backstory. It doesn't end with the crew, however. Sometimes sitting next to a group of people sparks up a conversation.

"Wow, that looks delicious. What are you having?"

On the last day at sea, we met some colorful characters at the laundry room. I still remember that delicious ill-gotten pineapple rum. At the Alchemy Bar, Nikola prepared a mean old-fashioned which he lit up Flaming Moe Style. He wasn't as chatty because he was busy, but his facial expressions were gold. One night after dinner we walked into a Motown 'name that tune' contest. We sung our little asses off! Our next door neighbor was a sassy woman of Cuban and Dominican descent. Her laugh was contagious.

Whew! That was exhausting! Looks like I'll be planning another getaway soon. It isn't a good sign, when you need a vacation from your vacation. I do miss that 24 hour soft serve machine though.

PIN ME!

#Carnival Victory #Carnival Cruise Lines

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