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indigosunsetao3 · 2 months

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Would It Be Enough?

Chapter 12 - Sketches and Dresses

Masterlist of Chapters

Warnings: 18+ - No minors Rated E - Please read the tags on A03 for any of your triggers

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x Original FMC 8.9k words - AO3 Link

The issue with only being able to bring so many things on your contract job was Emma had only packed for one type of weather; hot. Ukraine this time of year rarely saw temperatures above forty and it could get well below freezing at night. Emma had packed all the warmest things she had and also dug her credit cards out from her long-forgotten wallet. She’d have to make time to stop and buy a few things, a jacket and a long sleeve shirt at a minimum. One last review of everything, hoping it would be enough because it wasn’t specified how long they would be gone, Emma clipped her pistol into her thigh holster and tossed it in the bag with a few magazines then walked out of her room with her duffle bag swung over her shoulder.

Even though it was only six almost everyone else was already up and out of their rooms, coffee cups were lined up on the counter and Gaz was busy digging out sugar and milk. Moving to deposit her duffel with the rest in a pile by the door Emma walked over gratefully and grabbed herself a cup and made up the drink before leaning on the counter. “How was movie night?” She asked as she cupped her hands to hold her drink, “sorry I couldn’t join just after everything that happened yesterday, I needed to be alone for a bit.”

“No need to apologize, I get it,” Gaz answered. At least he wasn’t being awkward around her, hopefully that would stay the same when Soap and Ghost joined them. Their doors were still shut and they hadn’t made an appearance yet. “Alex fell asleep halfway through,” Gaz replied as he worked on his own drink. “But Price joined us toward the end. Not sure when Ghost and Soap got in, we all went to bed and they still weren’t back yet,” he shrugged. “Plenty of time to sleep on the plane if you can block out the noise. It’s almost a six-hour flight, hope you have a book or something to do,” Gaz finished with a grin.

“You know, I brought a book series with me when I came over here and I still haven’t even finished book one,” Emma confessed. “I just never have the time to read anymore. Too busy or too tired when I’m not busy. I value sleep over stories I guess,” she grinned, “I’ll probably have to start book one over.”

“Is that where Sleeper comes from then?” A familiar voice asked from behind Emma. Soap was standing there and prepping his coffee, black with heavy sugar, as he eavesdropped on their conversation. Emma hadn’t even heard him emerge from his room but both he and Ghost were there, Ghost depositing both his and Soap’s bags onto the growing pile of items.

“Sort of,” Emma answered, her eyes darting between Ghost and Soap before landing back on Soap again. She had so many questions as to what happened between them but that moment was not the time to ask. “I’m a heavy sleeper,” she began to explain, which earned a smirk and nod from Soap, he would know after that first night. “And I can fall asleep pretty much anywhere too, and quickly. I would catch catnaps between trainings or classes. You could find me against walls, on benches, behind boxes, one time even up on a catwalk,” she laughed a little bit before taking a sip of her coffee. “I pretty much slept anywhere I could even if it were for only five minutes. If I went missing at group gatherings, my friends knew they could find me holed up somewhere.”

“You and Alex are peas in a pod,” Gaz answered. “Man falls asleep if he sits still for longer than five minutes. I don’t think he’s ever made it through a movie.”

“Not true,” Alex chimed in from the couch, “I just don’t make it through movies you pick, and you never let anyone else pick. Your British stuff could put anyone to sleep.”

“I’m not watching some American action movie. All you American’s like to do is blow things up and look like models while doing it,” Gaz shot back with a roll of his eyes.

“So, you do think I’m pretty then. I see the way you look at me,” Alex teased before catching the breakfast bar that Gaz lobbed at his head. Gaz quickly went over to the couch with his own breakfast and took a heavy seat on the couch next to Alex, throwing his feet up on the table while he ate.

“I mean, he’s not wrong,” Emma said as she looked over at Soap. She noticed that he had a butterfly stitch on his eyebrow and his lip was split and still a bit swollen in the corner. So, he had gone to the hospital at some point the evening before. She couldn’t see Ghost’s nose under his mask but it had been bleeding pretty good the night before so hopefully he had gotten it looked at. “But action movies are supposed to be blowing things up, impossible scenarios and good-looking men and women,” she finished. Alex pointed at her over the back of the couch in an exclamation that said ‘see, he wasn’t the only one that enjoyed those types of movies.’

“I’m not disagreeing,” Soap answered with a grin, “you already know my opinion on British television, too dry.” Gaz turned his head over the back of the couch at that and narrowed his eyes at Soap, but didn’t say anything as he turned back around again.

Ghost and Price had made their way over to the counter now to grab their own coffee and Emma sidestepped closer to Soap. She didn’t want to say anything out loud but instead just raised her eyebrow in a questioning look, darting her eyes over at Ghost to ask the question quietly. Things seemed okay between the two of them, considering Ghost had carried Soap’s bag out for him and Ghost himself was having a casual conversation with Price and Crane. Soap caught her look and just mouthed the words ‘later’. Fair enough, she didn’t really want to discuss any of that with an audience and even though Ghost was talking to others she was certain he’d listen in.

By the time everyone had finished eating and cleaned up it was time to head out their ride to air field which was about thirty minutes away. Price informed them all they would be traveling with a transport of personnel and supplies to a base in Ukraine about two hours outside of Kiev then they would be driving the rest of the way. Their cover was they were embassy workers, specifically coming for humanitarian relief from the recent civil unrest. They would head to the safe house that afternoon to setup and debrief before beginning work that evening.

It was odd, to say the least, to see everyone dressed in such a casual way as they piled out of the truck that was full of other military personnel in their uniforms. The whole 141 had jeans and sneakers on, pistols that were usually strapped to their legs nowhere to be seen, and t-shirts. Price had even left his usual hat at the base, or in his bag, and the rest of the men had actually styled their hair. None of them looked the part of a lethal killer at first glance, though their size and mere presence in the area gave the air of it. People at the base even opted to give them a bit of space, obviously sensing that maybe the group wasn’t exactly what they said they were.

Emma was even treated the same for her association with them, though one brave solider offered to help her with her bags as the team moved off to go check in. Price had informed her she had a full bag of medical supplies at her disposal that he had commandeered from the hospital. The bag itself was almost as large as her and when she hefted it out of the truck when they got to the airstrip, she almost dropped it from the weight and everything shifting inside. “Did they pack me the whole emergency room,” she muttered as she moved to swing it up on her back.

“Let me help you ma’am,” the man offered and he swooped in to grab the medical bag before Emma could answer. He was young, a fresh recruit from the looks of him and how he carried himself. “Shouldn’t leave a lady to lug all of this,” he said with a small smile as he swung the pack onto his back, his eyes darting over to where the team had walked away. “I take it you’re the embassy crew headed to Ukraine?”

“Ah, yes actually,” Emma answered as she bent down and picked up her much lighter bag and draped the strap across her body. “Are you stationed there?” She asked as they started to walk toward the plane. She had no need to go join the men checking in, they had her fake identification papers, but she did glance over to where the rest of the taskforce was talking to the pilots. She was expecting to see them exchanging papers, maybe having a casual conversation, but what she found instead was Soap staring at her. He wasn’t subtle, he wasn’t even trying to hide it, as he crossed his arms across his chest and just watched her with head slightly cocked. Emma swallowed, daring to giving him a small smirk, before turning her attention back to the man helping her. Soap could have helped her with the bag if he had wanted, but he didn’t and now he’d get to watch someone else assist her.

“I am, my first deployment actually,” he said sounding a bit proud, but Emma could see he was also nervous. “Before I joined, I never even left the country and now I’ve been to three different ones in less than a week,” he grinned before gesturing for her to step up the ramp first. “Have you travelled much? I mean, I guess with the embassy you must have,” he was rambling a bit as they sidestepped some crates to head further into the plane for their seats.

“I have,” Emma answered, “I’ve been to quite a few places actually. I was in the air force when I was younger, I was a medic,” she explained, careful to not shed too much information about herself since she was there under a false background. “Helped me join the embassy when I got out,” she finished before they stopped at some seats. The man, last name Newman by his patch on his uniform, lowered her medical bag and stuck it under a row of seats, tucking it safely behind the cargo nets. Emma bent down and dug her book, and large ear covering headphones to help block out the plane noise, out of her bag before shoving it next to the medical bag. “Any idea what you’d like to do once you get out? Or are you a career man?” She inquired as she pulled the headphones around her neck and took a seat.

“Oh, I’m not sure yet,” he replied taking the seat right next to her, Soap was going to love this. “My whole family has been in the service, that’s actually how my parents met,” he grinned. “My sister just finished eight years and is in school now working on her masters. I may make a career out of it, school’s never been my thing. My dad was the same.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Emma answered with a smile before she looked back toward the plane entrance to see if the team was boarded yet. She couldn’t see down the ramp, there were crates and other items in the way, but more and more people were filing on and taking up the seats. If they didn’t hurry, they were all going to be sitting separated, there weren’t many seats setup for this flight and they were filling up rather quickly. “What’s your name?” Emma asked after moment, “I’m Emma by the way.”

“Sam,” the man replied before his eyes darted up over Emma’s head to take in the people that had just arrived. Emma turned to find Soap leading the group past the crates, his bag gripped tight in his right hand as he held it over his shoulder. He was continuing to stare, though he now had mischievous grin on his face as he walked over to where Emma and Sam sat. Emma was determined to not let him ruin the nice conversation she was having with an obviously anxious young man.

“Don’t mind them,” she stated quickly turning back to Sam, “they’re all bark and no bite,” she continued, giving a small eyeroll for emphasis. Sam still hadn’t looked away from the group though and his eyes had widened a bit before Soap spoke.

“I don’t bite because you haven’t asked Lass,” Soap said as he sat down in the seat right next to Emma, shoving his own bag underneath right next to hers. “I’m always willing to try anything,” he winked at her before looking over at Sam and extending his hand. “John,” he stated as a way of introduction, they weren’t using call signs here being that they weren’t supposed to be military.

Emma felt the butterflies in her stomach at Soap’s words and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from biting her lip. He knew exactly what he was doing and she was going to have to sit here with that thought for the duration of the flight.

“Sam,” Sam replied, taking his hand and shaking it. At that point the rest of the group lined up down the row, each taking up a seat and digging out their own inflight entertainment. Gaz had brought his music and headphones; the rest had a combo of music or books as well. Sam was watching all of them carefully, “you’re all embassy workers?” His voice was a little disbelieving as he took them all in, especially Ghost in his face mask. While it didn’t have the signature skull markings on it and was just plain black, it still stuck out.

“Aye,” Soap answered, letting his accent roll off his tongue heavily. “That one there’s our translator,” he pointed to Alex who gave a friendly wave, “boss down on the end. The mask is, well, he’s our security,” Soap smirked to himself enjoying his little game. “Rest of us are just regular old workers, except this lady,” he patted Emma lightly on the thigh, but then never removed his hand, the weight of his palm sent a wave of heat through Emma but she didn’t betray anything on her face. “With all the civil unrest and some emergency situations they needed some more medical personnel.”

“She was saying she was a medic in the Air Force,” Sam explained with a small nod, his eyes darting to where Soap still hadn’t removed his hand from Emma’s leg. Catching the look Soap squeezed his hand lightly, as if showing Sam exactly what was going on here.

“Yes, well, I continued outside of the Air Force and got my degree. I’ve been working for the embassy since as a medical consultant,” Emma answered, her eyes cutting to Soap in the corners, but she kept her focus on Sam. “I go where they send me. I just finished a job down in Africa a few months ago, thought I would be home for a little while but here we are. So, if you enjoy travelling and decide not to make a career out of the military, it’s always an option.” She smiled nicely at Sam, but kept her hands firmly curled around the book in her lap, the fingers digging into the spine as Soap dared to slide his hand about an inch up her thigh.

Sam opened his mouth to say something else when someone called out to him a row over. It looked like all of his friends were staring at the situation and one of them quickly gestured for him to come join them. Without even looking Emma knew Soap was smirking from ear to ear at the situation he had caused. “I should go,” Sam said then suddenly stood up, straightening out his shirt. “It was nice talking with you,” he added looking at Emma and barely giving Soap a glance.

“Bye Sam,” Soap called and Emma nudged him hard in the side with her elbow after Sam had turned and hustled away. She could feel Soap holding in his laugh and Emma rounded on him once Sam was out of earshot.

“That was incredibly rude,” she hissed, “he was only being polite. He carried my bag on which none of you offered to help,” she leaned and glared at the rest of the group who also looked like they were busting to laugh.

“He was being polite because you’re the prettiest thing he’s probably seen in a month,” Soap answered her. “And he was hoping you’d find him just as cute and nice,” he taunted before finally laughing. “I know, I was that boy at one point,” he added, “any girl stepped onto the base and we were all fighting for their attention.”

“You still didn’t need to run him off, I can hold my own,” Emma answered before she batted his hand away from her leg. “He’s nervous about his first deployment, he didn’t say it but I could tell. And none of you helped that,” she leaned around Soap again to give them all a look before sitting back in her chair.

“Ah, it’s all in good fun,” Soap said as he looked up to see Sam and his friends looking over at them. Soap gave them a little wave and they suddenly were all looking around at something else having been caught in their staring. “He’ll learn to be smoother about talking to women over time, he’s still green.”

“Oh yes, and you are so smooth yourself,” Emma answered as she moved to crack open her book. The ramp on the plane was shutting now and the propellers were starting up so it was beginning to get loud.

“I won you over, didn’t I?” Soap asked, though he leaned over to say it in her ear. Emma wasn’t sure if he did that because it was getting loud inside the cargo area or if he wanted to tease her. Either way it worked and she felt goosebumps breakout down the back of her neck at his breath on her ear.

She didn’t answer him as she moved to pull her headphones on to block out the sound of the engine and everything starting to rattle. Even with the headphones on she could still hear how loud it was and she saw as other people were breaking out their own ear covers, including Soap. Determined to read Emma lifted her book into her eyesight and crossed one leg over the other as the plane began its taxi. It wasn’t long before she felt them lift into the air and while she had flown plenty of times the sudden lurch always made her uneasy for a moment. She glanced over at Soap who was leaned back in his own seat with his arms crossed over his chest and his head back completely at ease. He was apparently opting to sleep for the flight as was Ghost.

Emma made it a few chapters before the hum of the plane and the light vibrations started to rock her to sleep. It was just like driving in a car, if she was a passenger she was out within the hour of the drive starting. Telling herself she was just going to rest her eyes she pressed her thumb into the book and flipped it shut, leaning her head back on the seat. She saw out of the corner of her eye the rest of the guys had done the same, Price’s head hanging so far forward on his chest she didn’t know how he could breathe like that. Scooting herself down a bit Emma shut her eyes and felt herself drift off before she could even really comprehend that was happening.

Sometime later she was awoken as the plane took a dip, they had apparently hit turbulence. Emma felt her head loll off what it was resting on and a hand gently pushing her shoulder back so she stayed in her seat. Blinking a few times she took in her surroundings, a bit disoriented, to find she was leaned over to the side and her head was resting on Soap’s shoulder. Her forgotten book was tucked safely under his thigh and he had draped his repaired jacket over her lap.

“How long was I out?” Emma asked before realizing there was no way he could hear her over his headphones. He probably didn’t even realize she was awake yet because he hadn’t looked over at her as he absentmindedly secured her back in her seat when she had slipped. Instead, his concentration was on the sketch he was currently working on in the journal sized notebook in his hands. She had seen the notebook before, seen him taking notes in meetings with it or had it out on the couch when they were relaxing in the evening.

She never pried into what he was doing but she dared to look now to find the page on the left was full of little sketches. The page he was currently working on had a drawing of her, asleep on his shoulder and how she looked from his angle. Her hair was obstructing most of her face, the overly large headphones setting it all askew. He had apparently been able to see her parted lips as she breathed though and how her face was perfectly relaxed in her slumber. He thankfully hadn’t added on the drool that she was suddenly very self-consciously afraid was there. Emma adjusted a little bit as she watched his hands work the pencil over the finishing touches of the shading of her lips when he peered down to find her eyes open.

Soap grinned before reaching over to pull one of her headphones off her ear, “go back to sleep. We’ve still got about two hours to go,” he explained before setting the ear piece gently back down on her. He didn’t give her a chance to protest before he went back to work, glancing over at her every once in a while, to make sure he was getting the piece right. Emma didn’t close her eyes though; she was too busy watching and grinning to herself at the fact he had chosen to draw her. It was a simple gesture but it seemed extremely intimate at the same time. His drawing skills were a bit surprising, she never picked up on the fact he would draw she assumed it was just notes or doodling during meetings.

When he finished, he tucked his pencil into the small loop in the book to hold it there before he pushed the notebook into her hands. Emma sat up at that and gave him a questioning look to which he leaned over and pulled the headphone back again. “Take a look if you’re interested, nothing to hide in there,” he stated before letting go of the ear piece and stood up. Emma watched him stretch before he sidestepped down the aisle to walk toward the front of the plane to probably find a bathroom or just move around a bit. They had been sitting for hours now and Emma knew her back was going to be stiff by the time they landed.

Looking around to see if anyone else was watching, they weren’t, she finally dared to crack open the well-worn leather journal. She found that the leather outside was just a cover, he must have head it for years, transferring it from notebook to notebook as they filled up. Inside the pages were stuffed with small notes, scribbles, numbers that made no sense to her, dates and times or random words. But there were also drawings, tons of drawings. Some were quick basic sketches of people or animals, sometimes buildings or even plants. He had a few schematics of what she was guessing were buildings he worked in but as she flipped through, she spotted familiar things. There were a few of the 141 in there, their faces so lifelike Emma looked up at their sleeping forms to compare them, before she continued to flip through.

As she got further along, she found the first sketch of her. She was faced sideways to him, her face turned to look ahead of her with her hair pulled back into a tight bun. He had captured the tight look in her eyes, she was obviously concentrating on something, and her hand was on a table taking notes. It must have been during a meeting or some sort of intel training that Alex was putting on, something that Soap didn’t need to concentrate on so he decided to draw instead. Emma grinned as she ran her fingers over it before flipping the page to find another sketch of her at the gun range from behind. Her hair was tied in a braid down her back and Gaz was there as well instructing her, she was in a shooting stance and the gun holster on her thigh was snapped open as if she had just pulled her gun from it.

She continued to flip through and she got further along sketches of her started to make more frequent appearances. Her lounging on the couch after a long day, working in the gym, standing with her oversized helmet on glaring at him from behind her scarf, curled up asleep in a lounge chair. But mixed in were other sketches from Soap’s life. Ghost’s mask, the symbol for the 141, a random military truck, some sort of gun and finally she found a self-portrait. It was rough, like he had started on it then never went back to smooth everything out. She sat and stared at it for a while, her eyes taking in all the angles and shadows, how his mohawk laid to one side and curled slightly at the ends, he had a cut on his cheek when he had done it and the scar by his eyebrow was prominently outlined. She was engrossed in it when Soap finally came back and took his seat next to her, leaning over to see what she was looking at.

Emma pulled her headphones off and looked at Soap, obviously portraying a look of surprise and awe. “That’s not even my best work,” Soap scoffed at her reaction, “it’s not even finished.” He moved to flip the page so she would move on from it but Emma stopped him and held the page down with her fingers gently.

“I think it’s my favorite,” Emma stated and she saw the look on his face, “I’m serious. It’s raw but just something about it,” she ran her finger down the jaw before looking back up at Soap. She had never seen him blush, and she doubt she would, but the look on his face was very close. “You’re really talented Johnny,” she stated knowing no one could hear her use his name, “I mean it. These are incredible,” she flipped back to the one of her on the shooting range pointing out the shading and shadows.

“I’ll show you my favorite. And it’s actually a good one compared to your favorite,” Soap teased after a moment before gently taking the book from her hand and flipping forward a few pages. He stopped and looked over it for a second before handing the book back to her. This sketch took up both pages and Emma gasped a bit as she took it in. It was of her again. She was laying on the couch on her stomach with her chin resting on her hands, which were laid flat on the cushions, her gaze looking up at him. She had a smile on her lips that reached her eyes and her hair was hanging loose around her face and down her shoulders. It was obviously night time because she had her pajamas on and her socked feet were dangling over the couch arm.

“It’s beautiful,” Emma stated after a moment of looking it over before looking back at Soap again. He had a genuine smile on his face, one that someone had when they were full of pride of their own work and enjoyed the praise. “When did you draw this?” She asked turning back to look at it again.

“I’ve worked on it for a while,” he shrugged, “but I started it about a week after you signed your contract and agreed to stay on.” He gestured for her to continue, willing to share this intimate part of him with her. It was enough to give Emma a pleasurable squirm in her stomach, making her wish they were alone, before she sat back and continued to flip through the pages slowly. She leaned up against his arm a bit as she admired everything and Soap peered over looking between the work and her face before shutting his eyes peacefully and settling into a nap. Going through the artwork had taken up the rest of the trip and Soap awoke when the pilot came over the intercom to announce their descent.

Price was the first off the plane to get their transport to Kiev. It was a plain black van that could fit them all, albeit tightly, so they wouldn’t get separated. Emma took advantage of the few minutes they had before they piled into the van and stretched herself out. Her back was tight and she could feel the discomfort in her hips as she pushed herself into runners stretch, groaning a bit at the tug in her thighs. Soap had carried her medical bag for her and when Price rolled around with the van, he tossed it in the trunk as did everyone else with their stuff.

“Couldn’t have sprung for anything bigger?” Gaz asked as he peered into the very tight quarters. The van wasn’t much bigger than something you would take as quick transport to the airport. Ghost had taken the front passenger seat without anyone trying to fight him for it and Price was driving, so that left the rest of them to figure it out.

“Biggest they had,” Price said as he turned around to look at them all climbing in. Emma immediately went to the back row, being the shortest on the team she could curl herself in a bit tighter. Soap immediately joined her, his body barely fitting into the tight space but he made it work. Gaz had the row in front of them to himself, a smirk on his face as he stretched out with his legs on the seat, then Alex and Crane each took up a captain’s chair behind Price and Ghost. “All set?” Price asked and everyone gave their confirmation before he drove off.

The Ukraine landscape was vastly different than what she had been looking at for the past few months, it was a nice change. The land was lush and green with rolling hills and mountains in the distance covered in snow and Emma leaned her arm on the window to look out as they drove. She missed the fresh crisp air, it reminded her of home, and it was nice to not be sweating from the moment you woke up until you went to sleep.

Emma shifted a bit to better lean her head against the window when Soap’s hand gently slid into hers, threading their fingers together. Emma grinned and squeezed his hand, looking over at him to find him watching her before he glanced off at a window on his other side. Price had asked for them to be inconspicuous and Emma knew Ghost was not pleased with their situation, so she was okay with being lowkey like this. Enjoying one another’s company and touch without being obvious, like it was their own little secret tucked all the way in the back of the van. After a while Soap rubbed his thumb gently over her knuckles and Emma shifted her leg to rest against his for the duration of the ride.

As they got closer to Kiev everyone seemed to be a little more alert, Soap slipping his hand out of Emma’s to sit up straighter and watch the area around them. While the city itself looked okay in the distance, driving up was another story. There were destroyed houses, people in the streets cleaning and other people watching them closely as they drove through. The political landscape had been a mess for years and Russian interference was not helping. Emma listened as Price explained everything that was happening and as the men around her asked questions. They didn’t venture too far into what they were doing there, waiting for the safety of the safe house just in case there were any bugs.

The safe house itself was actually a very small two-story house on the outskirts of the city. It looked rundown on the outside and when they all climbed out a feral cat darted under the back porch that was sagging on one side. Price ushered them all in and once inside he locked the door and peered out the windows to make sure they weren’t followed but the streets were empty. The inside of the house wasn’t much better than the outside, the kitchen tiles and walls were tinged yellow from years of someone smoking inside, the carpet had very questionable stains and was missing in some spots as if someone just cut chunks out of it. The furniture was dingy and Emma toed at an old looking cardboard box, afraid something may be alive inside of it.

“It’s not much but it’s secure,” Price stated before pointing at the bookshelf. Alex immediately went over and pulled it off the wall like a door, and once opened the inside revealed a bunch of surveillance equipment, monitors and gear. Alex pulled over a chair that had definitely seen better days before he started working on logging in and starting everything up. “Gear is upstairs,” Price stated and Crane and Gaz bolted for the steps, shoving one another playfully as they went to go check out what they had. “You can go through and setup all your medical stuff in the spare room over there,” Price gestured to what must have been the dining room at some point.

“Do you think I’m going to need it? I thought this was just information gathering,” Emma inquired as Soap grabbed the bag for her to lug it into the next room.

“Always be prepared,” Ghost said simply, “best to know what you have to work with just in case something doesn’t go to plan” It was the first words he had spoken to her since the night before, they weren’t clipped or angry either. It was actually fairly civil for him and it was jarring enough that Emma just turned around and walked into her area to start sorting through everything.

It took her well over an hour to pull everything out and get it in some sort of semblance of order, making a mental inventory and checking the packing list. They had provided her with pretty much everything she would need in an emergency situation to keep someone alive until they got to the hospital. It even went as far as a small portable AED and quick set cast for a broken bone. She was zipping all of the pockets shut now that the bag was empty when Price called them all back into the living room to start handing out files for all of their marks and discussing tactics.

Emma took her folder and flipped it open to find the left side was full of pictures of a man and the right had all his information. Mikhail Lebedev, heir to a very wealthy Russian family that owned an arms dealing factory that had exclusive contracts with the Russian military. He was a single business man, almost a decade older than her, known for being a playboy that liked to flash his money. He was suspected with helping push Russian agendas among the rebels in Ukraine and even supplying them with money and weapons. Emma pulled a face as she flipped through the pictures, he wasn’t bad looking at all with his broad shoulders and head of dark curly hair, but she could tell by just looking at his body language he was full of himself. He knew he could get what he wanted when he wanted it and he never took no for an answer.

“I hope you slept on the plane,” Price stated as he looked at Emma while everyone flipped through their files. Alex had a pile of all of them since he was staying behind to coordinate and keep tabs. “There’s a big meet up this evening hosted by Mikhail. Laswell secured us an in to get into the club,” Price stated before pointing at Gaz, Soap and Crane, “they will be going in with you, their own marks will be in attendance but we’re mostly concerned about Mikhail tonight, we think there may be a deal going down in the next few days. Gaz will be playing your security guard, Soap and Crane are your close friends,” all of them nodded though Emma was confused what role she would be playing if she needed security.

“You’re a wealthy American heiress on a tour of Europe before your marriage,” Price explained and Emma’s eyebrows shot straight up, this was news to her. Since when was she going to be playing the bait and actually interacting with her mark. “He likes money and things he can’t have,” Price continued before he dug around in his jacket pocket and tossed a bank deposit bag onto the table in front of Emma. “You don’t have to do anything you are uncomfortable with,” he stated as Emma pulled the bag toward her and opened it up to reveal a large stack of cash in the Ukrainian currency as well as jewelry, a different passport and other various documents. “We just need you to keep him sufficiently distracted while the rest of them work the room, see if you can get anything out of him. Ghost is going to work on trying to get into his penthouse to plant a few bugs while Mikhail’s…busy.”

“What am I going to do with this?” Emma asked as she held up a few of the bills, “I don’t think he would want my money if he’s as rich as you say,” she continued though she had a feeling where this was going.

“You need to look and dress the part,” Price answered simply and Emma finally dared a glance at Soap. His face was unreadable as he took in his instructions but she could see his hands were curled into loose fists on the table. This was part of the job though; this is what they both signed up for and Price had made it very clear that the job could not be affected by their feelings. “There are some clothes upstairs in the master bedroom already, Laswell had them sent. I have no idea what she picked for you, but hopefully they are warm. There’s a chance it’ll snow tonight,” Price looked pointedly at Ghost who merely nodded. Snow meant footprints so he would have to cover his tracks.

“If I’m supposed to catch his eye, I doubt the clothes will be very warm,” Emma muttered as she pulled out a very expensive looking diamond bracelet and ran it through her fingers. This was probably worth more than what she made on a single contract job. “I suppose I’ll go get ready?” Emma asked, sounding braver than she felt. She couldn’t back down now, she had been training for months for this and they were depending on her to get the work done. She could flirt and flash a little skin to keep Mikhail busy while the guys worked their own marks. Plus, she was due to be ‘married’ so there shouldn’t be any expectation from Mikhail of her, though Price’s comment about him liking things he couldn’t have stuck out in her mind.

When no one said anything to her Emma pushed out from her chair, tucking the file and bank deposit bag of items under her arm and headed up the creaky stairs with her personal bag. The house was cold as she made her way to the master, which mercifully was actually nice and clean compared to the rest of the house though Emma wouldn’t be surprised if there were still a few mice or roaches lurking in the corners. Finding the closet Emma pulled it open and stared at the clothes Laswell had sent for all of them, a mix of dresses for her and formal wear for the men. There were a bunch and she had an uncomfortable feeling she was going to be playing this heiress for more than one night.

“For fucks sake,” Emma breathed as her fingers danced over the satin and silk of the dresses. None of them left much to the imagination and she picked a bright pink one off the hanger and held it up before quickly putting it back with a solid ‘no’ muttered under her breath. Some of the dresses were short cut and tight, obviously meant for the club scene but others were floor length and elegant, meant for nice dinners or galas. The only formal dresses she had worn in her life were for school dances or the Air Force ball. All of her dresses were off the rack from local department stores but these just oozed designer made, custom. “I’m going to feel so out of place,” she stated to herself as she tried to choose what to wear that night.

Overwhelmed by the dresses, Emma decided to get her hair and makeup done first, that she could do while she mused over in her mind what to wear that night. In the bathroom she found stacks of different makeup and hair product and she groaned looking over all of it. It had been so long since she put on a full face of makeup or even curled her hair, she would be surprised she’d remember how but she needed to look like she did this effortlessly every day. So, she got to work. Emma used the foundation she found to cover up bruises and marks she thought would be seen under her clothes, though she decided that maybe a few wouldn’t be a bad idea to leave a bit visible. Maybe Mikhail liked women that could take a few hits or acted like they enjoyed that type of thing. He looked like he would, the smug bastard.

It took her a while to primp and clean herself, lotioning up her skin, pulling her hair this way and that to get it to curl just right then spraying everything to set. If it weren’t for the circumstances, she may have been actually happy with how she looked, it did look like she was going out on a very fancy date. Even the undergarments she had found felt luxurious under the bathrobe that she had plucked off the bathroom door and pulled on. At least Laswell appreciated the work that went into getting ready and made sure she was comfortable while doing it.

One more pause in the mirror Emma stared at her reflection, barely recognizing herself as she twisted a curl back and pinned it to frame her face. Hearing someone outside of the bathroom door in the bedroom Emma paused and tightened the belt around her robe before walking out. She found Soap sitting on the bed and he gave a low whistle as he took her in, his hands finishing up the buttons of his own shirt.

“Lass…Gaz is going to have his hands full keeping everyone off of you,” he stated as he moved to roll up the sleeves of his shirt, folding the cuffs in a slow deliberate manner. He was dressed nicely as well; black slacks and a simple dark blue button-down shirt that he had left the collar undone. His shoes were shined dress shoes, forgoing the usual boots or sneakers, and he had trimmed up his beard and was freshly shaved as well. Seeing him like that took everything Emma had to just not drop the robe there and jump him, especially with the way his eyes ran over her in an almost possessive manner.

“I’m more worried about all the women with you,” Emma noted as she turned to the closet to finally pick out a dress. “I’ll at least have Gaz running interference but you’ll be thrown to the wolves,” she said as she mused between the red and black number, turning them this way and that on their hangers. She would have felt much more comfortable in the floor length numbers but she knew that wasn’t practical tonight, and not the point of it either. She needed to show some skin, catch eyes and keep those eyes distracted.

“I’ll be watching you all night, no one else is going to hold my gaze like you,” Soap said quietly as he came to stand behind her with one hand one her hip, the other reaching around to look at the dresses himself. “I won’t be able to concentrate,” he breathed into her ear which made her shiver slightly and lean back into him. He ran his forefinger and thumb over the different materials before pulling the short dark blue dress out, similar to the color shirt he was wearing. “This one,” he stated, making the decision for her and handing her the dress. Emma nodded and took it from him and moved to head to the bathroom to change but Soap grabbed her wrist and gently pulled her back to him.

Emma felt her breath catch as he twisted her back around to face him again. She tilted her head up to him, arms hung loosely at her sides, waiting for him to continue. Soap didn’t say a word as he undid the belt of her robe, never breaking eye contact with her, and let the fabric fall open slowly to reveal her dark lingerie underneath. She caught the eye flare as he pushed the robe off her shoulders and Emma let the fabric fall down until it caught in her elbows.

“Did Laswell do this to torture me?” Soap groaned as his fingers trailed lightly over the material covering her breasts. The lace wasn’t doing much as far as coverage but undergarments that went under these types dresses weren’t meant to be modest. Soaps fingers splayed against one breast and squeezed gently, causing Emma to gasp, before he slid his fingers down her bare stomach to toy with the elastic band of her underwear on her hip. “Fucking hell,” he muttered as he glanced down to the garters on her thighs that were holding up her stockings with delicate little clips. He swallowed hard, as if to restrain himself, before grabbing her hips with both hands and pulled her tight against him.

“If you weren’t all done up already, I’d have you bent over that bed right now,” he stated, leaning down to nuzzle the side of his face against hers so he could whisper in her ear. “Test out how quiet you can be as I fucked you in this lingerie,” he bit at her ear lobe which caused her to gasp and her hands shot out to grab at his forearms. “Well…until I ripped all the pretty lace into shreds,” he continued, pressing a kiss over her racing pulse on her neck. His hands slid around to her bare ass and his fingertips squeezed into the skin there as he pulled her even tighter against him so Emma could feel how badly he wanted her.

“How fast can you be?” Emma asked, almost pleading with him to do everything he had just stated and more. It was a risk with everyone here but her brain was so clouded with lust for the man standing in front of her she was willing to take it. She had been wanting to jump him for two days now but things kept getting in the way. She’d even take a heavy make out session at this point, she just wanted him keep touching her. “Makeup can always be touched up,” she continued, her hand drifting to press up against the seam of his pants which was incredibly tight at the moment.

“I can do fast and dirty,” Soap ground out as his fingers slipped between her legs from behind, pushing the thin strip of underwear to the side to feel the wetness there. He huffed and slid his fingers away, earning a whine of disappointment from Emma who had opened her legs a bit wider to give him better access. “But I’m not that fast and Price is waiting,” he ground out before unwrapping his arms from around her reluctantly.

Emma felt like she was going to combust as she looked at him and almost grabbed his wrist and dragged his hand back to her body but he was right, they needed to get going. Soap took the dress that was draped over her arm and gestured to help her into it, twisting her around by the hips to do up the back. His hands were nimble as they pulled up the zipper and slid the diamond necklace around her neck, though he kept running his hands over her body as he worked; especially as he helped her strap on the heels, his fingers gently massaging her calves and kissing the inside of her knee.

“When you’re busy flirting with Mikhail I want you to think of me undressing you later,” he said as he slowly rose from the floor where he had knelt in front of the bed to lean over her instead. “And when he talks a big game to you,” his hand slid up her skirt and he grabbed one of her garters between two fingers. He picked the material up a few inches from her skin before letting the elastic snap back on her thigh with a sharp sting, “I want you to think of how you felt screaming my name in that warehouse.” He smirked and dared a quick kiss to her lips, not wanting to smear her lipstick, “and if he tries anything with you, I want you to know I’ll break his fucking skull.” The last sentence was a lethal promise and Soap locked eyes with Emma to emphasize it. Emma felt the shiver of fear, but also comfort, shoot down her back from his words before he pulled away to stand up straight and offer her his arm.

“You better stick to that promise of undressing me later Johnny,” Emma stated as she loosed a breath she didn’t realize she was holding before she smoothed her skirt back out and grabbed her small clutch. She had stuffed some cash in the little black purse along with her lipstick, a burner phone, her fake passport and a small knife in the zipper pocket. “Or I may just get Mikhail’s number and call him up if you can’t satisfy me. He looks like he knows his way around a woman,” she smirked and Soap all but growled his displeasure at her words but he moved to help her out of the room and down the stairs.

“Well don’t you look cute,” Gaz stated as he buttoned the cuffs on his suit jacket and stuck the ear piece in his ear. Emma rolled her eyes at him but he just laughed. His cover as her security would allow him to have a direct line with Alex where they could talk back and forth without issue. Emma was handed a small ear piece that went so far into her ear canal it was barely visible and in the dark lighting of a club behind her hair no one would see it. The microphone piece was a small button that clipped right onto her bra strap and she tested it with Alex before heading out to the car. It was an actual car this time, not the van, a sleek black Cadillac looking thing. Gaz walked to the front to drive, shoving his second pistol into the glove box, his first one was on a chest holster under his jacket.

Emma, Crane and Soap slid into the back, the two men were dressed the same in button-down shirts and black slacks, large watches on their wrists and rings on their fingers. Emma jiggled her foot the whole ride over and Soap gently patted her knee as they rode in relative silence. The closer they got to the club the more nervous she became and when Gaz pulled up to the valet, she took a deep breath and waited for the door to open. Time to put on the act.

#fanfic #fanfiction #call of duty fanfic #cod fanfic #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #ao3 author #my fic #soap fanfic #call of duty #cod #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #soap cod #soap x oc #would it be enough?

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sibyl-of-space · 9 days

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I'm writing the narrative + dialogue for my team's game for the Mystery Game Jam, and it's finally getting to the point where I'm having a lot of fun.

I've done a shitload of game jams before, but always as an audio person, and always on those shorter weekend-long jams. This is my first time doing a month-long jam, and my first time taking on a narrative + project management role. I specifically chose that role because I want more experience doing these things (Amadeus is my only experience doing these things, and I literally just wrote a long sappy devlog last month about how much it has helped me to have done a lot of other random fun stuff for experience).

Up until pretty much yesterday I was regretting this. Writing is harder for me than audio because I have significantly less experience in it, and I've spent over a year working on a single huge narrative that I will be working on for the next ~5 years, so I don't really know what my own process is for starting from scratch. I was trying to force myself to plan out all of the pieces of the big puzzle before writing actual dialogue, but that task was so daunting and hard to whittle down into something concrete that I procrastinated on it so hard this week I ended up almost finishing my Ghost Trick ROMhack instead of working on it.

But yesterday I decided to write the intro scene at least, and that turned into also writing the tutorial scene, and that turned into also writing the parts of the finale scene that I can write with what's been decided so far, and then at the end of it I had banged out 12 hours of dialogue and narrative text, and I was having SO MUCH fun.

So I got exactly what I wanted out of this game jam! I learned about my own narrative process.

I am not a writer who can map out all the pieces of a mystery puzzle meticulously and then flesh out the dialogue after the fact. I am the kind of writer who needs to really understand the characters I'm working with who are engaging with the mystery, and use those as the driving forces of the mystery. That kind of writing flows easily for me and is much more fun. I still have to come back to the mystery puzzle, but it's easier to finish the puzzle once I have all the characters as the biggest pieces.

I still need to write the meat of the investigation portion, but it's going so much more smoothly now that I have characters and not placeholder [WITNESS 1] cardboard cut-outs. I'm having a ton of fun writing this and getting invested. I didn't really expect to become invested! Certain dynamics between characters emerged as I was writing and now these feel like characters I care about and am rooting for. That actually shocked me. I didn't set out to write a game I was invested in, I set out to write a silly game jam mystery. But now I'm like, oh dang, I'm accidentally putting real emotions into our game. Whoops!

It's definitely not a Serious Game. It is a pretty silly game. But I am also putting a lot more actual heart into it than I expected to given our concept? It's very Ace Attorney vibes I think.

(Ace Attorney but written in a month so set your expectations accordingly.)

#mystery game jam #there is one other person who is drawing backgrounds that has also helped brainstorm stuff about The Murder and that helped a ton too

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arzner · 1 year

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It’s been so quiet and lonely at home ever since my dog died. I feel sick to my stomach every time I open my front door and her adorable little face isn’t there to greet me and make my entrance feel special. I feel forlorn no longer having my little shadow following me from room to room. I miss talking to her and petting her and holding her and playing with her and seeing her tail wag with excitement when interacting with me.

I hate seeing so many reminders of her all throughout my apartment -- her toys, blankets, beds, food, treats, bowls, leash, etc. -- but I also really don’t want to put them away yet. Her food bowl still has her breakfast in it from yesterday when I tried to feed her but she was too ill to eat. There’s an unopened bag of dog food that I’d bought just a couple days ago that I now plan to donate to an animal shelter.

I stood in my living room earlier smelling her collar and it still smells so strongly of her. She was the most pleasant-smelling dog I’d ever known.

It’s jarring how your entire routine changes immediately: I no longer have to let her outside, feed her, take her for walks, shut certain doors to keep her out of trouble...

I took today and yesterday off because I just didn’t want to deal with work on top of everything else + I was exhausted from not sleeping due to the whole ordeal, and now I almost wonder if maybe that was a dumb idea because I’ve just had too much time to think and wallow and torture myself by looking at pictures of her. The skin around my eyes and nose is raw, red, and peeling from how much I’ve cried. Time has gone by so slowly all day, and I can’t stop thinking about her and hoping that she enjoyed her life and hoping that I took good care of her.

I keep replaying the whole day in my head over and over. I brought her to the emergency vet very early Sunday morning when she first showed signs of illness. The vet explained what was happening and suggested that they do a procedure to give her some temporary relief and then she could go home to live out her final days (or weeks or months). I brought her home and we slept for a few hours, but she’d gone downhill again when I woke up. I was hoping to have more time with her, but it was clear that she was too far gone if the symptoms had already returned after only a few hours. Her final moments deeply disturbed me -- she made horrible noises and died in my arms while my mom drove us to the emergency vet to have her euthanized. It was too late for that and I can only hope that she wasn’t suffering too much (or at all, preferably). I screamed and wailed in my mom’s car while she was kind enough to go inside to see what we should do. We brought her inside so they could call her death and then I chose to have her cremated. I should be able to get her ashes in a few days.

I’ve lost other dogs (and people, for that matter) and gone through all of this before, but I hadn’t experienced it since my last dog died 12 years ago, so I guess I’d forgotten just how completely rotten it feels. In a weird way I feel guilty for experiencing the aftermath of this loss in the way I am vs. the way I did when my dad died a few years ago, but every loss is different and devastating in its own way and I shouldn’t compare them.

Sometimes I feel the weight of this, like, kneejerk invisible expectation or judgment that I shouldn’t be so distraught and feel everything so strongly and that I didn’t deserve to take time off from work because she was “just” a dog, but no, I’m not going to apologize for being affected by this and for loving her as much as I did. She was deeply special to me and that’s all there is to it.

#rambling and using this as a journal because I want to put it down somewhere but I don't want to bug anyone with this one-on-one

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foreveralwaysanauthor · 2 years

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So, a few months ago, while my niece, Lorali, was still doing online learning, she opened a google doc for her and I to share so that, when she needed help with school stuff, I would be easy to reach (she had no cell phone at the time). Since she now uses her mom’s old, wifi-only cell phone for emergencies at school, I’ve been using that google doc as a writing folder because I thought she didn’t need it and that I had taken away her access to it. Turns out, I set her as a viewer and didn’t take away her access at all. I wrote all of Glory and Gore on that doc, which Lorali told me she read during her ELA class’s reading times, and loved. Lorali comes to our house after school with two of her brothers and yesterday she began requesting more stories when she got me alone in my room. According to my sister, Lorali spent almost an hour last night typing out her “list of demands” on a brand new document that we now share. She sent me it this morning and told me to tell my mom that she needs to ground me if I don’t start writing some of it. I get that she’s almost 12 and thinks that’s one of the most severe forms of punishment a parent can bestow, but I’m 22! How is my mom going to ground me? 🤣 Anyway, I had already started working on my next AU before all of this started and it just so happens that one of her ideas, is the AU I was already working on. So, being the nice auntie that I am, I told her about it after school today and she didn’t stop talking about it and asking me questions until my sister picked her up like 20 minutes ago. I love her enthusiasm, but I’m beginning to think that telling her about it this early on, might have been a mistake 😅

#i need to learn when to shut up #not writing but kind of

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rochesterimmersion · 6 months

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Sharing a Meal

For part 1 of my project, I sought to deepen my awareness of Rochester meal programs through "e-visiting" a food sharing site and going in-person to take pictures of the location.

Rochester's Salvation Army serves a free meal on weekdays from 11:30AM-12:30PM. In the same building where lunch is served, they also have a supplemental food shelf and bread pantry, so guests are able to access resources to meet their food needs beyond the meal they eat on site. Because the site serves lunches on weekdays, such additional resources seem borne out of recognition that their guests may be navigating how to meet their food needs in the evenings and on weekends. I explored the area in person a few minutes after the lunch service began, and I witnessed a handful of young men trickling in from the surrounding streets. As one of the men entered, I overheard staff in the parking lot say, "Sure thing, just go to the resource room and tell them what size you need. They'll take care of you."

This phrasing--"They'll take care of you"--jumped out to me. I don't know what the man was asking about; perhaps a winter coat, given the dropping temperatures? The Salvation Army operates multiple buildings downtown Rochester and offers additional services, including emergency social services and services related to housing and health access. I happened to be near another Salvation Army building last Friday afternoon, and I witnessed a line of cars wrapping around the block, seemingly waiting to enter the Salvation Army's parking lot during the last few business hours of the week.

As I reflect on these experiences, the element that most jumps out to me is the time required to receive social services. Getting help, in whatever form, requires people to get to a specific location and get in line. For my work, I often find myself waiting in the phone queue or standing in line to speak with Olmsted County's Department of Human Services (DHS) (who administer SNAP, cash assistance, medical assistance, etc.). I am not among the world's most patient people, and I often grumble about how slowly the lines move (almost as if the systems are inaccessible by design). Then I remember that Olmsted DHS is short-staffed and receiving an unprecedented number of applications. Just yesterday, a county worker told me they receive 300 cash/food applications each week. Which brings me back to the line of cars outside the Salvation Army. As I looked around to better understand what everyone was waiting for, I was struck by the tone of the line, which I experienced as unhurried. The line didn't move the entire time I was circled the block (twice). And yet, I didn't see any visible/audible expressions of impatience. It was a warm day, car windows were down, and I didn't hear anyone yelling, complaining, or honking their horn in frustration.

Which isn't to say they were without frustration. Rather, my interpretation is that receiving social services conditions people to expect to wait in line because of the high demand for all services. In this light, I see my impatience as a sign of privilege that I am able to reproduce precisely because I am not in these lines frequently enough to be conditioned out of an impatient response. Impatience is a luxury.

I hope the lunch program is a reprieve from all the waiting social services often provides. I didn't see a line outside of the Salvation Army for lunch. Guests appeared to easily enter the building, where they were "taken care of" in terms of food and other needs. As a future counselor, I hope to remember these lessons: (a) the toll of asking people, especially marginalized people, to continually wait for services, and (b) the different perspective conveyed by "taking care" of people, rather than just "helping them."

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alpacaparkaseok · 3 years

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The Pact - Shocker

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

Word Count: 8.1k

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

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

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

Shocker (finale)

series masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tonight…it wasn’t enough.

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

“I know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s unnerving.

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

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

Taehyung grins knowingly. “Adorable.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was good to be back.

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

Who would you radiate toward, without even realizing?

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

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

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

“But…?”

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

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

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

“Ignorance is bliss.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You always have a choice.”

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

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

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

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

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

“…ok.”

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

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

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

Remembering.

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

What’s stopping you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So you did steal my copy!”

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

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

“It was for a good cause!”

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

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

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

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

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

It’s not a sigh of relief.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you even talking about?”

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

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

In.

Then out.

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

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

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

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

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

“Seokjin!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can’t give that hope.

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

And then he’s gone.

In.

Out.

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

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

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

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

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

“Jagiya?”

“Hobi!”

“Hey, what’s up? How’s your ankle?”

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

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

“Be there soon.”

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

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

“Hey, where…?”

“Turn around!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that even a question?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Ok, let’s head inside.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jin?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I…how did you know?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At this, Hobi stops you. “Like what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Does he still want me?”

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

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

“But he’s done so much-”

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

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

Nobody yelled, nobody banished you from their life.

Instead, Jimin had laughed. Laughed.

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

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

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

“I…yeah…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everything is going to be ok.

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

“Here we go.”

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

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

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

“That’s a lie, isn’t it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mad? What?”

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

Your heart stops.

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

“Yoongi, that’s not-”

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

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

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

“I invited you-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He falls silent again, deep in his thoughts.

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

He does, eyes wide with confusion.

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

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

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

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

“Yoongi,” you whisper. “I love you.”

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

“I love you.”

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

“I love you.”

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

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

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

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

It’s simple.

“Yes.”

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

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

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

“I feel very in love with you, yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Agh,” Yoongi groans, burying his head in your shoulder. “I thought you meant something different, ok?”

“I know.”

“Yah! I was trying to be understanding of your feelings I thought you had for Jin!”

Reaching to turn off the oven, you grin. “I’m never letting you live that down.”

As Yoongi feigns annoyance while shoveling cookies into his mouth, you marvel at all it took to get to this point. Yoongi notices your attention, puffy cheeks turning pink. But he doesn’t shy away, instead he silently offers you a cookie.

“So…” he begins, a smirk playing on his lips. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Dangerous.”

“Well, I know how much you like bad boys.”

“Mm, true.”

Yoongi laughs along with you before continuing. His eyes sparkle like the night sky, drawing you in. “Are you free this Saturday?”

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333 notes · View notes

dirty-urie · 3 years

Text

Little Brendon

Second Person

Brendon x Female Reader

PFTW Era

Fluff(ish) Oneshot

PG-13? R?

3.6k Words

Warnings In Order of Appearance: real person fic, language throughout, arguably slight smut, minor dirty talk

Author's Notes:

1. I don't know how I got this idea or what possessed me to actually write it, to be honest, but I had fun, so I guess that's all that matters.

2. Posting this in honor of the anniversary of the show I went to on the first leg of the Wicked tour, which was technically yesterday, but this fic wasn’t done yesterday, so here it is now.

“Awww, little Brendon,” you gush at the computer screen.

“Please tell me you aren’t looking at pictures of my penis,” Brendon says, walking into the room.

You laugh, rolling your eyes. “Not that your ego couldn’t use a little bruising, but no, I’m not cooing at your nudes. Merch wants you to sign off on the final photos of the Beebo plush, and look how cute he is!” You shift the computer monitor so he can see what you’re looking at.

“Why are you going through my email?”

“You always ignore emails from Merch, and I like looking at all of the new Panic designs!”

“Babe, I work ten hours a day; I don’t want to do anything I don’t have to. Merch will use whatever designs they think will sell well. They don’t actually need my approval. Those sign-off emails are just a formality.”

You pout. “I know, I know. I won’t go through your email anymore.”

“Good,” he says, relieved. "I wouldn’t want you to discover all the messages from my mistresses.”

“You’re a jackass,” you call, flipping him off as he leaves the room with a smirk.

***

“I’m gonna miss you,” you pout, leaning against the door frame to your bedroom.

He kisses your forehead and puts another pair of sweatpants in a suitcase. “You can’t wait for me to leave. You get to have the girls over, watch all your shitty movies, and you won’t have to deal with my dirty underwear or noisy video games in your nice living room.”

You take the t-shirt he’s about to pack out of his hands and throw it on the bed, pulling him into a kiss. You slip your hands under the waistband of his pants to grope his ass. You pull away. “Mhm, that’s what I thought. I don’t ever have to deal with dirty underwear because you never wear any.”

“Hey! Don’t slut-shame me! You love having such easy access to this body.” He gestures to his body with a strange flailing arm motion.

“You know what? You’re right. I can’t wait for you to leave.”

He side-eyes you. “Well, in that case, you won’t want the present I got you.” He shrugs, refolding his shirt.

Your eyes light up, and you go kiss him again. “Have I ever told you how much I love you? Because it’s a lot. Enough to justify a really nice present,” You say after he pulls away.

“That’s what I thought. I guess you’ll get your present after all. Close your eyes,” Brendon says.

You close your eyes, and he hands you something soft. You open your eyes, and it’s Brendon’s likeness in plush form. He’s wearing Brendon’s tour outfit with a gold jacket over a black tee and black leather pants.

“Little Brendon!” you exclaim, seeing the toy in your hands. “Aww, it’s even got your lips and little eyebrow scar! Thank you, babe.” You kiss him and then Little Brendon. “Now I have someone to keep me company while you’re off getting bitches on tour.”

“Oh, come on, babe,” he says, putting his hand on your shoulder and looking into your eyes, “they’re not bitches, they’re groupies.”

You smack his arm affectionately and then push him onto the bed to crawl on top of him. “Maybe you should practice for the groupies. Wouldn’t want you to kill their rockstar fantasies because you’re out of experience.”

He flips you over and rolls on top of you, nipping at your neck. “Out of experience? What, pray tell, have we been doing every day for the past two weeks, if not building my experience?” he asks with disbelief, punctuating each point with a bite or kiss. “Remember when I made you come twelve times in one hour before I let myself come? Or when we fucked on the roof of my studio when the neighbors were out of town? Or when you fucked my ass with that new toy, the one that vibrates?”

“Shit, shit, point taken,” you moan, grinding up against him while he bears down on you.

His phone pings, and he slows his hips to grab it from the side table. “Fuck, Zack’s out front. I’ve gotta go.”

You grab the front of his shirt and yank him down for a deep, dirty kiss.

He’s reluctant to pull away, but his other love is calling. Tour, that is, not Zack.

“Okay, let me up, loverboy. I’ll help bring your stuff out to the car,” you tell him.

“Thank you. Most of my instruments and stuff are already with the guys, but I’ve still got two suitcases and a backpack.”

You both stand up, and he grabs the suitcases, leaving you with the backpack. “You’re not gonna readjust, rockstar?” You ask, eyeing his tented sweatpants.

He shrugs, “My hands are full, and it’s nothing Zack hasn’t seen before.”

“You just like showing off,” you accuse, and he smirks a little and winks because you’re not wrong.

You walk him to the car and give him a final goodbye kiss. “I love you to death. Knock their socks off, babe.”

***

Without fail, the one-week mark hits you like a truck. You’ve had your fun with girlfriends, and you’ve enjoyed the peace and quiet, but your bed is empty, and it’s weighing on your chest. Even the puppies seem a little more glum without Brendon.

You feel silly, but finally, after two nights of crying yourself to sleep, you give in and grab little Brendon from your dresser and cuddle up with him.

***

Two weeks later and you and the real Brendon are half-asleep, snuggled up against each other in the nicest hotel room in Houston. You can only spend two nights with him, and you refuse to let him go for even a second more than you have to. Which he did not appreciate when he had to use the bathroom, but it’s his fault for leaving you for so long.

“Baby, I’ve got an interview, but I’ll bring back breakfast, and we’ll eat in bed, okay? I’m really sorry,” He whispers apologetically, peeling away from you.

“Don’t be sorry, it’s what you have to do to pay the bills. Can you hand me Little B? He’s in my purse,” you ask, and Brendon obliges without comment, probably just happy you’re not crying.

You fall back asleep with the little guy in your arms.

Brendon knows it’s irrational when he comes back three hours later at 8 am, and he feels a tiny twinge of jealousy at the plush you’re cuddled up with. However, he feels it is not irrational that he’s upset when he climbs into bed with you, and instead of immediately clinging to him like always, you just clutch Little Brendon harder. Almost as if protecting the toy from Brendon.

“Y/N, I’m back,” he whispers in your ear, half-hoping you’ll throw the doll on the ground and roll over to make burning hot love to him for 12 hours straight. That’ll show Little Brendon. Well, no, it won’t, he has stuffing where his brain should be, but it’ll show him on principle.

You do roll over to throw an arm across him, but you still have little Brendon tucked under your other arm.

Brendon decides to call this one a draw.

“Did you bring food?” You mumble.

“Of course, darling. I’ll do anything to spoil you. That’s one of the perks of having a driver’s license and sentience.”

“…What?”

“Nothing. I’ll get your food.”

He insists on feeding you and rubbing your feet, and letting you watch whatever you want on the hotel TV. And it’s just because he wants to take care of you while you two are together. Definitely no other reason. He certainly feels no joy at the sight of Little Brendon lying discarded on the nightstand. Point Real Brendon.

After the day of pampering, it pains you when you check the clock, and it’s time to leave. “Alright, I’ve gotta head out, B. I can’t miss my flight,” you finally say, changing from Brendon’s T-shirt into real clothes.

Brendon thinks about protesting, but he knows better. You have your own life apart from him, and he respects that.

You cram your stuff in your overnight bag and give your goodbye hugs and kisses to Brendon. Then you kiss Little B before throwing him in your purse. You think you see Brendon scowl at your new companion, but you were probably just imagining it.

***

“Surprise!” Brendon shouts as he opens the door.

“Babe! Thank god I sent the strippers home early,” you joke as he sits next to you on the couch.

“Shit, I missed the strippers?”

“You fucking goof,” you laugh, playing with his hair. “What are you doing home early?”

“Nicole needed to come home for some emergency with her house, so I figured I’d charter the plane and zip down with her and Zack to spend the night with my beautiful wife.”

“God, that must’ve cost an arm and a leg, B.”

He shrugs, “Nah, we were only in Portland anyway, and it’s easier than finding a new bassist on short notice. This way, Nicole and I can be back for the San Jose show tomorrow night, and I get a whole twelve hours at home with my girl and my puppies.”

“Oh, well, I’m glad it worked out for everyone. Especially me,” you say, shifting to sit in Brendon’s lap.

You two finish up the episode you were watching before you insist that he comes to bed because he’s overworked and jetlagged. He’s sleepy and doesn’t need that much convincing, but he tries to put up a fight anyway.

“I only get a little bit of time with you; I don’t want to spend it sleeping,” he complains.

“This is the hardest I’ve ever had to work to get you in my bed,” you respond, yanking him to his feet.

His eyes light up, and you shake your head. “No, sir. We’re not having sex. You’re getting at least seven hours of sleep in your own bed with the love of your life, and then you’re going to take a shower, make me breakfast, and give San Jose the show of their lives. You’ll literally see me again in two days when I come to the LA show.”

He bites his lip, still trying to lay the seduction on thick.

“No! Bed! Or I’m making you sleep in the guest room!”

He sighs, trudging along behind you to the bedroom.

“Um, babe, I think you forgot to kick out your mistress before I got home,” he says, gesturing to his side of the bed where little Brendon is tucked into the comforter.

You scowl playfully. “Oh, shush you. Where else should I put him while making the bed?”

“I don’t know, but letting my replacement sleep in my spot feels a little on the nose.”

“He’s not your replacement, baby.”

“Really?” Brendon asks, picking up Little Brendon and getting into bed, “because” he sniffs Little Brendon’s head, “I’m pretty sure Little Brendon is wearing my fifty dollar cologne.”

You blush, “Okay, well I take him everywhere, and I didn’t want him to smell, and it’s not like I could use any of my perfumes…” you taper off, realizing that you may have given yourself away with the ‘take him everywhere’ line.

He narrows his eyes but doesn’t say anything else before clicking out the light.

“Hey, Brendon?” You ask quietly.

“Mm?”

“Um, what did you do with Little B?”

Brendon clicks on the light. “Ah-ha! J’accuse! You’ve replaced me!”

“I just don’t want the dogs to rip him up and then leave me to clean up stuffing all morning!” You defend yourself.

“Well then, you won’t mind me putting him up on the dresser.”

“Of course, I won’t mind.”

Brendon puts Little B on the dresser and goes back to bed, so imagine his surprise when instead of waking up tangled in your arms the next morning, he’s not even touching you on the king bed. Instead, you’re hugging Little Bastard with your nose buried in his fabric hair.

Little B’s smirk taunts Brendon as he storms out of bed to make his damn wife breakfast. His damn wife.

***

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna come,” you whine, rubbing your hips frantically.

“Come,” he commands. “Let me see that pretty mouth fall open as you come all over our bedsheets, pretty girl.”

The angle on your clit is perfect, and the image of him getting off on your phone right along with you pushes you into bliss, and your orgasm rocks through your core. You know you’ve affected him when you hear him grunt as come rolls down his fist.

“God, babe, you’re incredible, from a completely different country, fuck, a completely different continent, you still turn me on like crazy,” he admires.

“I could say the same about you. I came so hard just from getting to hear and see you.” You tell him before accidentally dropping your phone. “Shit, sorry, my fingers are a little wet.

Brendon would normally just be admiring the soaked panties he’s getting a glimpse of, but instead, his attention is drawn between your thighs for a different reason.

“Were you getting off by humping Little Brendon?!”

“It’s not what it looks like, okay?” You say, picking up the phone. “He’s the perfect firmness, and he’s way easier to manage than a clunky pillow! It’s purely physical!”

Brendon scoffs, “I’ve bought you thousands of dollars in sex toys, and you turn to him? In our marital bed? I’m being cuckolded by polyester!”

“Brendon, it’s a stuffed animal, not the pool boy. You come back from England in three days, and you can fuck me however you want. Y’know, because of your functioning dick, tongue, and fingers?”

“Just as long as I don’t come back to find you rimming the stuffed tiger from Calvin and Hobbes,” he teases with a smile.

“Hm, is degrading Winnie the Pooh out of the question, too, then? because if that’s the case, then I’ll need to find different plans for tomorrow evening.”

He gives you a pointed look, feigning seriousness before cracking a grin. “Alright, alright, thank you for the orgasm. I’ll see you on Tuesday,” he says before blowing you a kiss before hanging up.

“That plush better count his days,” Brendon mumbles to himself before falling asleep.

***

“Do you want me to go with you to the store?” He offers.

“No, baby, enjoy some of your time at home. I’ll just bring my other husband for emotional support.” You toss Little Brendon in your purse.

“I remember when I was your emotional support at the grocery store…” Brendon starts, looking off into the distance.

“Yeah, me too, and you were terrible. You hated it. Rest assured, I’ll make you come back to the grocery store another time, but right now, I’m being nice because you just got back from tour. And you still have the dishes and the vacuuming to do.”

“Aye, aye, captain. Don’t let the paparazzi catch you smooching Little Brendon while I’m at home doing your dirty work,” he calls as you leave.

“No promises! He’s very tempting!”

***

“You never snuggle with me anymore,” Brendon pouts after you reject his advances in bed.

“It’s August, and you’re hot,” you complain, and he gives you a suggestive look. “Not that kind of hot, Casanova. I mean two minutes in, and you’re sweating all over me. It’s uncomfortable.”

“You snuggled with Little Brendon when I was gone!” He accuses.

“Yes, because I’ve grown accustomed to sleeping with something in my arms, and Little Brendon doesn’t sweat, or snore, or wake me up in the morning with his cock pressing into my thigh, or bicker with me about how I choose to sleep,” you explain, annoyed. Brendon looks genuinely upset, so you soften your face. “When the temperature isn’t in the triple digits, and we don’t literally stick together when we touch, we can cuddle. Okay?”

“Fine.”

***

“Bogart, hey buddy, look at this toy for you to chew on. Bite, bite, bite, kill,” he says, throwing Little Brendon to Bogart.

Bogart sighs and rests his head on Little Brendon like a pillow.

“First my wife and now my dog,” Brendon shouts, throwing his hands up in frustration.

“Okay, this has gone on long enough,” you tell him, alerting him to your presence in the doorframe. “Sit,” you order, pointing to the couch. “Brendon, you’re jealous of a toy,” you state bluntly.

He blushes and grabs his stuffed enemy. “It’s not about the toy,” he finally admits.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so.”

“It’s just,” he struggles to find the right words, “I love touring. I love seeing all the different cities on my days off, meeting fans, partying with different bands, and most of all playing shows.” He takes a deep breath. “But I also love you. I love waking up with you, going out to dinner, watching you get off on my thigh, and just getting to be near you. So when I have to be away from you to tour, sometimes I wonder if I made the right choice, and seeing you do the things I want to do with you with the stupid Beebo plush instead, kept bringing all of those feelings to the forefront” he confesses.

“Oh, B, of course, you made the right choice. I love you, and I miss you when you’re gone sometimes, but I love our life. I love getting my independence when you’re gone, visiting you on-tour, watching you do what you love, having super hot reunion sex. So yeah, sometimes I just wanna squeeze you and smell your cologne and kiss your little face, but I’d never want you to sacrifice your career for that,” you say. “You wanna know why I like Little B so much?”

“Because he’s so good for humping?”

“No,” you laugh, “well, yes, actually, he is. But it’s because he reminds me why I spend some nights alone and hop on dreadful red-eye flights every few weeks and have to hook up with my husband on a fucking bus. So you can put on this dumb gold jacket,” you fiddle with Little Brendon’s jacket, “and perform the songs you worked so hard on for hundreds of thousands of people, and then sell thousands of these dumb little dolls so we can live in a multi-million dollar house with a home studio and a heated pool.”

“So you’re not replacing me with the puppet doll?” He asks.

“Well, maybe a little, but sometimes you feel so intangible. Even when you’re here, I know you have other, more important obligations, so it’s nice to have something constant,” you laugh, “and I think Bogart feels the same way,” you say, pointing to the dog who is curled around his new friend protectively.

***

“You’ve created a monster!”

“Have not!”

“You were the one who gave him Little Brendon!”

Brendon’s eyes dart to the floor because you’re right.

Bogart grew attached to Little Brendon faster than you did and now gently carries the toy with him wherever he goes. If you try to reclaim Little Brendon, Bogart growls and snarls.

“It’s kind of cute, I guess. He’s protecting his daddy,” you say.

“Then it’s your fault for putting my cologne on him,” Brendon retorts.

“Ugh, fine,” you concede.

“Oh look, he’s dropped it,” Brendon points out.

At first, you think it’s a good thing, but you both recognize the look Bogart’s giving.

“Go, Bog! Get it!” Brendon cackles as the dog pounces.

“Oh no, you don’t, bad dog,” you scold, snatching the toy away. “If you wanna hump something, I think Zack’s coming over tonight, but we don’t do that to mommy’s things.”

Brendon’s still laughing his ass off, and you shoot him a dirty look. “C’mon, babe, you’ve blue-balled him,” Brendon says, pointing to the sad-looking dog.

“Bogart is fixed and doesn’t have balls, a characteristic you two will soon have in common if you don’t stop giggling like a ten-year-old,” you threaten, and he, wisely, shuts up. “That’s what I thought. And if anything, this is just vindication for me because I told you Little Brendon was good for humping, and you dismissed it,” you tell him.

“Okay, fine, there was a brief period of time when I was irrationally jealous of a toy,” he admits. “But I think you should get another taste of the real thing before you decide who’s the better lay once and for all,” Brendon says, picking you up and carrying you to the bedroom.

“Brendon!” You lightheartedly protest in his arms.

***

You’re lying on his chest contentedly as he strokes your arm. “You wanna know what I miss the most about getting to cuddle with you when you’re touring? Something Little Brendon doesn’t give me?”

“Hm?”

“Your heartbeat. Feeling it under my head or under my palm. Especially if we’re lying together for a while. I love how it slows and steadies the longer we’re with each other. So comforting.”

***

Little Brendon is sitting on your bed with a card that says, “Squeeze me!” on the front. You squeeze the plush, and you immediately recognize Brendon’s heartbeat coming softly from the chest of the toy. You smile and pick up the card.

Hey, baby! It reads, I’m no doubt missing you on the second leg of tour right now, but if you really need some comfort, I hope this’ll do. The recording lasts about an hour, and I made sure it got down to my resting heart rate before it stops. I’m sorry for being a jealous dick about a stuffed animal, but even my possessive lizard brain wants you to have something to make you feel better if you’re ever stressed or upset. (And now that the Beebo plushies are officially for sale, you can rest easy knowing yours is special)

xoxoxo,

Brendon

#why did i write this?#brendon urie fanfiction #Brendon x Reader #my own work #brendon urie #panic! at the disco #panic at the disco #brendon urie smut #brendon urie fluff

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j-wont-stop · 3 years

Text

The Scarred (Chapter Four)

Title - The Scarred (Chapter Four)

Word Count - 2002

Fandom - Batman: The Dark Knight

Pairing - Ledger!Joker x OC

Summary - Penelope Bishop works at a florist shop in Gotham, barely getting by in the corrupted city. Her life is shrouded by therapy and judgement with little light to find her way with. However, when a certain painted face starts making himself known to her, things take a turn.

Warning(s) - Light cussing, flashbacks/nightmares, smoking

Inspiration - Cold (Aqualung & Lucy Schwartz)

Masterlist

A/N - Sorry for the later post, I’ve been on 12 hour shifts lately and it’s messing up my schedule :/

“The hell is happening?” Penelope whispered to herself as she stared with a wide eye. She carded a hand through her hair, unsure of what to do, what to think. Whoever was behind this, they were intelligent. Patient and calculative. It frightened her. It frightened her and yet she hadn’t even met the person. That was the most unnerving part about it all.

Her hands moved to pick up the larger shards to throw away, then to grab the broom and sweep the rest. She scrambled to look through every hatch, every door, cabinet and closet for anything that might have been left behind. Yet there was nothing. Once more, the only sign that someone had been there was the face that had been cleared already. There was no lingering smell, not even a hair.

“Okay,” She muttered. “Okay-okay.” Her mouth rambled on as she carried out her night routine, heart pounding faster than she would have appreciated as she tried to relax under the warm stream of water. Her feet padded against the cold tile as she tended to her scars, pacing the small room before throwing on her pajamas. She raced to her jacket, fumbling through the pockets for her phone and shuffled through her contacts. The coldness of it rested against her ear as she chewed on her cheek, wiggling the fingers of her left hand absentmindedly.

“Penny?” The familiar voice made her perk up. “What’s up?”

“I just needed someone to talk to…” The woman practically whispered. She made her way to lay on her bed, listening attentively to the shuffling in the background over the phone.

“Oh, ’course, hun,” Emma had an underlying tone of understanding in her voice. “Did everything hold up okay at the shop?” Penelope thought back to the bald man.

“Yeah-everything went fine. Sold three vases.” She started fiddling with the hem of her shirt.

“Three? That’s amazing!”

The voices echoed in the auditorium, the petite woman messing with the tassel that hung from her head. Everyone migrated to their families after having all walked the stage, visiting friends from time to time to say their goodbyes or reminisce in their memories. The woman searched for a familiar brunette bun, but her height made it all the more difficult.

“Penny!” She turned to face the voice, but was soon met with engorging flames. They towered over them all, everyone screaming and scattering in a panic. “Penny!” The voice screeched again, but no matter how many times she spun around and searched, she couldn’t find them. She started sweating profusely, both from the heat and stress of it all. Flames licked her skin, almost teasing it before it grew volatile.

Penelope’s eye snapped open, breathing heavily. Her hair stuck to her skin from the cold sweat she was left in. She laid there for a moment or two, collecting herself as best as she could. She listened to the wind humming through her window, the birds chirping as the sun’s first rays peaked through the clouds. She closed her eye again, imagining the bird. What kind of bird it was, what it was doing. Perhaps it was a swallow? It’s boring, brown feathers smooth as they glided and fluttered. The curious black eyes that fidgeted as it cocked and turned its head.

She took deep breaths, opening her eye once more to sit herself up on the edge of her twin bed. She stared at the soft carpet below her, loathing herself for waking up at such an ungodly hour. The faintest shade of blue colored the sky if she were to squint. Penelope then stood, stumbling over to her dresser to change out of her now drenched sleepwear. She thought about taking a quick heat dump to cool her off, but the amount of energy it took for her to get in the shower right now made her shudder, so she settled with splashing cold water on her face instead.

She trudged into the living room to her box TV, turning it on and having the low noise of the news play in the background as she migrated to the kitchen. She decided to simply pop an egg sandwich from the freezer into the microwave, pouring herself a glass of milk to go along with it. She bounced when she plopped onto the couch, pulling the lap blanket from the top of it to wrap herself up in. Her eye stared at the screen with a bored expression, heavy as she watched.

With how consistent the news was it was a wonder to her how it was never a rerun. The same news anchor, the same monotone voice with the same type of news. A new murder case, Bruce Wayne’s next trip to an extravagant venue, cloudy skies with an expected drizzle all week. None of it came as a surprise to her anymore.

Crime rates continued to slowly increase, the mob being thrown into a tizzy ever since The Joker showed up. Little changed since he was caught and put in Arkham. If anything, the people just grew into a rampage once they found out what had happened to their newfound idol. Penelope would be lying, however, if she said she wasn’t intrigued. From what she had seen on the news and heard from around the city, he was a very finicky person. He seemed so clumsy and careless, yet was always the one in control. No one could ever predict what he would do next, keeping everyone on their toes at all times.

She somewhat felt bad for the first responders who seemed to just be ragdolled from one end of the city to the other or thrown into ever frequent traps when he was out and about. She couldn’t deny that the thought of it made her snicker, wondering how they hadn’t learned their lesson the first few times. How they thought that The Joker being locked up would put their minds at ease. It was all a joke.

A vibration sounded from her phone and she looked to where it buzzed on the coffee table, the green icon showing that she had received a message. She reached over and picked it up, flipping it open in curiosity.

I’m stopping by Gotham Coffee. Want anything?

Emma. Penelope smiled at her phone, fingers moving to reply when another buzz went off. An unknown number, and all that was sent was the number twelve. That was all she needed to know who it was.

———————————————————————

The two women sat at the counter, sipping casually from their now cold coffee cups as they made small talk. Emma noticed how tense Penelope had seemed when she first entered the shop, what with her stiff posture and gaze cast down on the floor more so than usual, so it was a relief to see her smile a little more the longer they talked. They had just finished with one of their many giggle fits when the bell of the shop went off, cutting it short. Their heads snapped to the front and Penelope’s stomach dropped, mouth suddenly dry.

Once again, the light of the shop reflected off of the bald man’s head as his eyes focused on her own. With every step he took she felt as if she just shrunk smaller and smaller. It wasn’t until he stood directly in front of them that she shot up from her seat, scrambling into the back room to grab the vase she previously prepared. Her multitude of tiny footsteps echoed from the back as Emma and the man practically held a staring contest, the latter holding a sickly sweet smile. When Penelope emerged from the back room with the vase her arms shakily handed it to him, sucking on her bottom lip anxiously. With how rough he seemed, the gentleness with which he handled the vase amused her. But she wouldn’t dare show it. Emma looked over at Penelope as soon as he left.

“Was he one of the three vases?” She quipped, quirking an eyebrow. Penelope took a deep breath in, then casted her a sheepish smile.

“Four.” Emma stood to throw away their coffee cups. “He paid yesterday. Said he was picking it up at noon today.”

“How much?” Penelope’s mouth started to water, mouth faltering as she tried to form a response.

“Just twenty-five.” Emma, always having been good at reading people, knew she was being lied to, but for her friend’s sake decided not to push. She knew that if Penelope ever held something back, she did so for good reason. She just chuckled.

“How was it when he ordered it?” Her voice took on an amused tone. “‘Begonia and baby’s breath, please’.” She mocked the man, driving the two of them back into a giggling fit. They wasted the day away talking, trying to busy themselves one way or another until the end of the day. The last hour was the hardest. In silence they sat and watched the grandfather clock tucked away in a corner. Yet it only worsened their predicament.

Fridays had always been slower than any other day, and it was on Fridays that they truly realized that time was never on their side. When they had fun, it flew by. When they wanted something to just be over with, it dragged on. It was cruel. Time was cruel. Life was cruel. Penelope knew these things. So when the clock sounded at the hour they were out the front door, Emma locking up the shop and tossing Penelope a smile. They gave each other their ‘goodbye’s and ‘have a good weekend’s and made their way back to their respective homes. The city was in chaos, full of eager citizens who all wanted the same thing as Emma and Penelope. Some had already made their ways into their local bars, choosing to drown out their lives or celebrate simply because they made it through another week.

As for Penelope, she sat on the edge of her open windowsill and watched. A cigarette balanced between her lips as she struck a match and lit the end of it, shaking it out as she breathed in the all-needed nicotine. Her weekly treat. She rested her head on the wall beside her, the buzz starting to get to her after a significantly larger inhale. She stared out at the scenery in wonder, mind finding its first moment of peace since the last time she had a smoke.

Then a sudden knocking on her door jolted her from her spot, the stick nearly falling from her mouth. She quickly put it out in the ashtray next to her and climbed down to close her window, bare feet skittering across the floor. She stood on her tip-toes to look through the peep-hole, yet no one stood at the door. She unlatched it and opened it cautiously, peeking through until something caught her eye. She opened the door a bit wider to see a familiar vase sat on top of her welcome mat. Her vase. She noticed something dangling off to the side and delicately picked up the flowers to see what it was, and what she saw made her heart make its way to her throat. A playing card. A Joker card dangled from the vase.

#ledger joker x oc #ledger joker x reader #ledger joker #heath ledger x oc #heath ledger x reader #heath ledger #the joker x oc #the joker x reader #the joker #joker x oc #joker x reader #joker #the dark knight #batman #fanfiction

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random-fandom1 · 3 years

Text

Pepper thought it was good idea to go away for a few days. A few days away to herself, she deserved it right? Not much could go wrong, could it?

Well, let's just say you can't underestimate the avengers...

- ⴵ -

Day 1 of Peppers absence

Most of the over 30 year olds (minus Clint and Scott) were doing their own thing. Tony and Bruce were inside their labs doing their thing, Natasha, Steve, Sam and Bucky were sparring in the training rooms, and the rest of them were doing their own adulty things. They were sticking to their own routines, because why would they have to change them? Its not like Peppers absence was to make them less 'mature'

That left a majority the under 30s (with the addition of Clint and Scott and minus Bucky, Loki and Valkyrie) to run wild. The loss of the mature adults meant they could go free. Peter, Yelena, Shuri and Wanda had a spa day. They all took turns painting eachothers nails, doing the others hair and just full out pampering eachother. Scott, Clint, Pietro and Carol looked on in disgust because that's so girly, right? Well that's what they thought until they were dragged into the action as well. Scott and Pietro were enjoying themselves as well after 20 minutes but Clint and Carol despised it. For this reason, they came out looking like Barbie dolls. All pink makeup, bows, frills. Blackmail pictures were taken.

They all got together at 5, Bucky and Loki cooked dinner for them all (The famous Gigi Hadid vodka Pasta) and they all watched Star Wars before going to bed.

- ⍟ -

Day 2 of Peppers absence

Peace didn't stay for long. It lasted a day.

It all started at 6am the next morning when Peter and Bucky were awoken from their sleep, entangled in one another, soaken wet. Clint quickly retreated back into his vent, not fast enough for the two enhanced not to spot him. That was how the prank war began.

Next Vision gave Wanda one of her favourite flowers, which then proceeded to spray her in the face

Shuri and Val replaced Steve's shampoo with lime green hair dye (Tony said he was his big leprechaun)

Yelena turned the water to freezing cold when Natasha was having a shower

Teams were made by 10am. It was almost the same divide as yesterday. Peter, Bucky, Shuri, Val, Carole, Scott, Yelena, Wanda, Loki, Pietro and Sam made one team. They called themselves the Young Avengers. The other team consisted of Steve, Natasha, Clint, Tony, Vision, a reluctant Bruce, Thor, Dr Strange and Nebula.

To say it was a mess was an understatement. By the end of the day the training centres were covered in water from a water balloon fight that went on around 12, Stonys bedroom had been filled with balloons, Yelena had managed to vandalise Clints secret tunnels, Natasha had in turn played an audio recording of Yelena having a pretend interview with herself in the shower around the compound. Bucky, Sam and Peter had covered Thor in honey and then put feathers on him. Loki then enchanted him to run round like a chicken for 2 hours. Tony had locked Pietro in heavy shoes, stopping him from running away and dyed his hair neon pink. Peter had posted embarrassing videos of the other team That wasn't even half of what happened.

They called a truce around 11pm, not before Nebula had managed to fill Scott's room with Baskin Robins uniforms

- ᗢ -

Day 3 of Peppers absence

Day 3 was just, surprisingly, wholesome. Everyone was recovering from last days war and decided to just order a shit ton of food and relax. Tony didn't even go to the lab! They all cuddled up on the couch and watched movies all day.

Tony and Steve were on one couch, Bruce and Thor were on another, and Wanda and Vision were on another showing little PDA. But on the other side of the room, Peter and Bucky as well as MJ and Shuri were sprawled across two differnet couches, showing off quite alot of PDA. Close to an unbearable amount of it. Peter was sat on Buckys lap, mouthing at his neck like a baby and Bucky was running his hands all over his body in a slow, gentle manner. It wasnt a sexual thing (Peter would be mortified to do that with his parents and family sitting right there), ot was more of a cmofort thing. MJ and Shuri had no shame. None. They were full on making out. It made nearly everyone around them uncomfortable.

Nether the less, the day was spent eating junk food, having a Harry Potter marathon (Peter tried to suggest Star Wars but was quickly shut down by nearly everyone else). Of course by the end of the day, the place was a tip. Pizza boxes scattered around the room, popcorn all over the couches from Sam and Buckys popcorn fight, pillows turned upside down and a huge pillow fort made by Yelena, Shuri and Peter around the middle of Goblet of Fire. Missing the only mature mature adults, they left it as it was and retired atthe end of DHPt2.

- ⎈ -

Day 4 of Peppers absence

The day before Pepper was to return was havoc.

To start it off, they had no food. None. Pepper normally ordered all the food on the large whiteboard in the kitchen every 2 weeks, and now with her gone, no one actually placed it. Steve and Natasha had to run to the grocery store in the morning, leaving hungry hero's with high metabolisms to get cranky. They ended up getting only 2 boxes of cereal and a loaf of bread. For 20+ people. For a whole day.

Second of all, no one actually stuck to their bed time for the past few nights. It started off with Shuri snapping at Peter, Peter snapping at Bucky, Bucky snapping at both Sam and Steve, so on and so fourth. Eventually everyone ended up as cranky as the last person. Silence surrounded the compound as everyone migrated to their own spot to calm down. It was so quite that you could hear Clints terrified screams from the kitchen as he tried to disturb a sleeping Peter, who was in his own made cobweb in the corner.

Third, when a majority of people calmed down, the power went out. Not even the back up worked. Turns out no one checked the battery so it blew. Tony and Bruce were there for 3 hours trying to fix it while the rest of the avengers played board games in the main room.

Things were falling apart

- ⎊ -

Day 5 of Peppers absence

Today's the day Peppers meant to be coming back, but her flight got delayed due to weather and she wouldn't be back until late that night. This left another day for the avengers to slowly lose their minds.

It started off like Day 1, until it hit 12pm. Thats when Natasha called them all to living room and demanded a games night. A party nighy where they all get drunk and party like teenagers

It started off with never have i ever, and oh did some things come out, especially about the baby spider of the group. When Tony asked if anyone had ever done the dirty in front of their family/friends, a very embarrassed Peter and a wolfishly grinning Bucky took a shot

Next day played truth or dare. This led to a hot makeout session between Scott and Sam, a half naked Steve and a head standing Vision.

Then it just went downhill at around 6pm. A drunken group of earth's mightiest hero's was just getting started, and by 9pm, they were fucking hammered.

That's how Pepper found them.

Vision was still spinning on his head to the beat of the music in the corner; Loki, Natasha, Tony and Clint were taken shots at the bar; Yelena and Peter were twerking on the coffee table with Bucky, Sam and Shuri cheering from under them, Bucky laying the occasionally slap to Peters arse; Bruce was writing furiously in a notebook; Steve was having a heart to heart with Wanda, both of them crying about how much they lived their families; Thor was of course munching on his emergency poptarts as they still hadn't gotten their food delivery; Pietro was running around Valkyrie so fast that it hurt to look at; and Dr Strange and Nebula were no where to be found

Pepper just slowly backed out of the room, wondering if the plane had gone back to the airport yet

#peter parker #winterspider #bucky barnes #tony stark #superfamily #avengers #steve rogers #marvel #cute #bucky x peter #shuri #mj #scott lang #clint barton #thor #pepper potts #pepper goes away for a few days #everything goes to shit

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redtapesworstnightmare · 3 years

Text

another brother

“Uh, let me transfer you. Your big sister’s not on shift, but your younger one is.” May’s ears perk up at that. “May, I’m sending my call over to you. It’s your brother.”

“Harry?” she asks, confused. She certainly isn’t younger than him.

“No, it’s Buck.”

In which May takes a 911 call from Buck.

(thank you to the absolutely lovely @that-firehouse for betaing and helping with some finishing touches!)

read on ao3 | word count: 1,045

tags: Fluff, Sibling Relationship, pseudo-siblings, Post-Canon, may is a great little sister, protective may grant, josh knows that they're siblings and enjoys it so much

“9-1-1, what is your emergency?” May hears Josh pick up for the umpteenth time that day.

They’ve had a busy shift and they’re only an hour in, the whole of Los Angeles apparently losing their collective minds. None of the dispatchers could figure out why, either. It wasn’t a full moon, the next Friday the 13th wasn’t for two months, and Mercury was not in retrograde. May would have to ask Bobby if someone had said the Q-word.

“Uh, let me transfer you,” Josh continues. “Your big sister’s not on shift, but your younger one is.” May’s ears perk up at that. “May, I’m sending my call over to you. It’s your brother.”

“Harry?” she asks, confused. She certainly isn’t younger than him.

“No, it’s Buck.” Josh says, and transfers the call before immediately having to pick up again.

“Josh, I swear to God, if you transfer me-”

“Uh, he transferred you, dude,” May tells him. “Buck, what happened? Are you at work?”

“No, I’m in my apartment. I have the day off,” Buck says, and May’s already typing his name and address in. “My, uh, my address is-”

“I’ve already got it in, Buck,” May says kindly. “What’s wrong, are you hurt?”

“A little,” Buck admits, and May’s immediately worried. Buck hates admitting when he’s hurt. “I fell at work yesterday, and my knee still kinda hurts. I banged it trying to get down the stairs and uh…”

“Please tell me you didn’t fall down the stairs, Buck,” May says, already typing the request for an RA unit.

“I wish I could,” Buck says, and May’s chest tightens. “I, uh, I think I tore something in my shoulder trying to break my fall, and my knee is definitely even more screwed up than it was.”

“An ambulance is on its way, okay?” May tells him, then sees who responded. “Oh boy.” She’s not sure whether he’ll be happy or not.

“It’s the 118, isn’t it,” Buck groans. “God, and I know exactly who’s on shift because this would be my shift if I weren’t an injured idiot. This just keeps getting worse.”

“At least they won’t have to break your door down,” May offers helpfully. “They all have keys.”

“Fair point,” Buck admits. “Listen, I’ll be fine ‘til they get here, I didn’t hit my head or anything. We can hang up so I stop tying up your line.”

“Buck-”

“May, it’s fine,” Buck promises. “I’ve been texting the crew and they’ve told me what a nightmare today has been for first responders in LA. Go help more people, May. I’ll check in later, I promise.”

“If you’re sure,” May says hesitantly. “I’ll swing by the hospital or your apartment later, wherever you end up.”

“Probably Eddie’s place,” Buck tells her. “That is, if they let me out of the hospital. I’ll see you later, kiddo.”

“Bye, Buck.” May says. The line goes dead before she can hang up and she sighs, pinches the bridge of her nose, and then returns to the busiest day she’s had since starting at the call center.

By the time May finally leaves dispatch, it is three hours past when she was supposed to finish her 12-hour shift. She almost goes straight to the hospital that Eddie let her know Buck was still at, but decides it’s probably better for everyone if she goes back to her apartment to change and eat something first. Still, she takes no more than an hour, not able to calm her racing nerves until she sees that Buck is okay. She feels silly, someone’s been with Buck since she got off the phone with him and he sounded okay when he called 9-1-1, but still. May needs the comfort of seeing Buck with her own two eyes.

“May!” She’s greeted immediately upon entering Buck’s hospital room, which surprises her because it’s still the wee hours of the morning. Buck’s asleep, knee elevated and right arm in a sling, but Bobby is wide awake at his side.

“Morning, Bobby,” she greets him with a smile, going to give him a hug. He hands her a travel mug of coffee which she takes gratefully, smiling into the warmth. “Mmm, thanks.”

“I figured you’d be by pretty soon once you got off your shift. I got here about half an hour ago after your mom had to take off. She was here to replace Maddie, who had to go take Jee-Yun so Chimney could get a shower and a little rest after our shift from hell.”

“I’m glad he’s had someone here,” May says. “I’ve been worried about him for basically my entire shift.”

“Wait, how long have you known he was hurt?”

“I took his 9-1-1 call,” May tells Bobby. “Well, technically Josh did, but he transferred Buck to me.”

“I’m sorry you had to deal with that worry,” Bobby says earnestly. “I’m sure he appreciated having a familiar voice on the line.” May smiles.

“I hope so,” she admits. “And honestly, I’m glad I took the call instead of hearing about it from another dispatcher. At least then I knew exactly what condition he was in.” Bobby smiles and looks like he’s about to say something when a groan interrupts them.

“You guys’re loud,” Buck complains, making Bobby and May laugh quietly.

“Sorry buddy, I haven’t had a chance to check in with May today,” Bobby tells Buck. “You didn’t tell me she took your 9-1-1 call.”

“Forgot,” Buck says, cracking an eye open. “Thanks for helping, May.” May grins.

“Always happy to help family,” May tells him, and Buck smiles sleepily. “Now go back to sleep, we’ll be here when you wake up.” she promises. Buck nods and closes the eye he’d opened a sliver, and his breaths even out in minutes. May catches Bobby smiling fondly at Buck and smiles to herself.

“Didn’t realize you’d adopted another brother,” Bobby says with a wry smile, never looking away from Buck. May smiles to herself.

“Yeah. I’m pretty lucky,” she says quietly as she watches Buck inhale slowly as he rests, realizing that she doesn’t know exactly when the transition from ‘firefighter that drove Mom crazy’ to ‘older brother’ happened. What she does know is that she wouldn’t change it for the world.

#my writing #9-1-1 fic #buck and may sibling fic #9-1-1 on fox

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crystalstar8 · 3 years

Text

Knights of the Night (ch 21)

Chapter 21

Ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5, ch 6, ch 7, ch 8, ch 9, ch 10, ch 11, ch 12, ch 13, ch 14, ch 15, ch 16, ch 17, ch 18, ch 19, ch 20, ch 21

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29139240/chapters/71536491

pairing: Jungkook x oc

genre: vampire au, college au, twilight, romance

word count: 2,998

warnings: blood (obviously), kidnapping, child kidnapping, needles, France, human trafficking

notes: vampires, vampire au, college, college au, so many twilight references, blood, needles, kidnapping, children, homelessness, dance, ballet, flashbacks, romance, slow burn, probably no smut, idk yet tho, France, French things, attempted genocide, inaccurate French history, bisexual main character, @strawberriewithchocolate-blog @mozy-j @daechwitad-2 @zobadak @fallenstar-7

summary: Catalina starts college in a small town all the way across the country. She doesn’t know anyone and isn’t exactly looking for friends. She just wants to focus on dance. But when she meets fellow dance major, Jimin, and adventurous, fellow freshman, Jungkook, Catalina ends up discovering a whole new side to the small college town; one that is dangerous but oh so enticing...

TW: violence, gore, graphic descriptions of gore

(sorry for the wait, but it think it turned out pretty good, if i do say so myself. Also, i just don't know what to do for the pictures anymore lol.)

“Just so we’re clear, you’re probably not going to use this thing the day of,” said Jimmy K. “You two and Jin are gonna be evacuating the captives while the rest of us fight. All this training is just in case.”

“I know,” said Jungkook. “I still want to learn how to use it.”

The heavy double propane tanks were strapped to Jungkook’s back, the hose in hand.

“It’s pretty easy,” said Jimmy K. “Just open the valve and pull the trigger.”

Training with Jimmy K was fun but grueling. They had been doing target practice for hours, which was tedious. By the time evening hit, Catalina’s shoulder hurt and she just wanted to see her boyfriend use a flamethrower. She wasn’t disappointed. He was downright giddy as he twisted the valve open on the tank behind his head, then blasted the practice dummies. The dummies, along with all the arrows sticking out of them, burst into flames. Jungkook laughed gleefully, the light of the fire glinting in his eyes.

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

She couldn’t move, and the metal against her neck was pressing harder. She wished she could reach out for Jimin’s hand beside her, but he couldn’t move either. She wished Jungkook wouldn’t look at her like that, with dread and desperation in his eyes. She wished he wouldn’t try so hard to get to her, she didn’t want him to die too. He needed to get out safely. She tried to open her mouth to tell him that, but then the hand holding the knife to her throat moved and the last thing she heard was a scream.

“Cat! Wake up!”

Catalina woke with a start, sweating, tears streaming down her face. She was in her room.

“Cat?”

She startled again, her heart still pounding before she saw Jungkook beside her. He was looking at her with concern, a hand reaching out to cup her face.

“You were having a nightmare,” he said. Catalina sighed and closed her eyes, leaning into his palm.

“I don’t remember it,” she said. That was a lie. She did remember it, but she didn’t want to talk about it. She didn’t know what all these dreams meant and she didn’t want to. She felt him pull her closer and wrap his arms around her.

“Go back to sleep,” he said. “No more dreams tonight.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

The mansion was packed. Well, the foyer was packed. When Catalina and Jungkook arrived, they were surprised to see so many people, so many vampires, already there. The unfamiliar faces stared at them as they pushed through the crowd.

They found Hoseok in the back of the lounge, playing on his phone on the couch.

“This is a party in here,” said Catalina.

“Yeah, Namjoon’s friends from up north got here yesterday,” said Hoseok. “Can you believe this is all one clan?”

“Out there?” Jungkook asked. “That’s all one group? There’s like twenty of them out there!”

“Is he expecting more?” asked Catalina.

“I don’t think so,” said Hoseok. “Namjoon already went over the plan with them over night. Most of them don’t even care a whole lot about saving humans, they’re just in it for fun. I guess it’s okay, as long as the job gets done.”

“True,” said Catalina. “We’ll need all the help we can get. So, we’re doing this thing tonight? Are you nervous?”

Hoseok thought for a moment before turning to her and saying, “They ruined my life. I’m fine now that I have these guys, but I could have finished college and done something with myself. And they ruined that chance for me. So, I think I’m ready to end them.”

The conviction in his eyes was almost startling to Catalina. She’s never seen him like this, but it made her happy. He was ready to take his life back.

“Are you ready?” Jungkook asked Catalina, taking her hand.

“I think so,” she said. “I want this to end.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

They arrived at the same time as the police. Catalina waited outside the entrance for the signal. Emergency vehicles lined the perimeter, ambulances opening their doors and readying themselves for patients.

“How many do you think will be in there?” she asked Namjoon. He looked confidant ordering the vampires around, but he hesitated when he answered.

“There should be no more than thirty,” he said. He sounded sure of himself, but Catalina caught a flash of nervousness in his eyes. She looked over at her other friends. Yoongi was dressed in a tracksuit, an ornate sword on his hip. His grip was tight, knuckles white. Taehyung looked fierce and determined, but he was chewing on his lip and pacing. Hoseok looked the most nervous, picking at his already torn sleeves, eyeing the building with trepidation.

They called themselves immortal, but Catalina knew they weren’t. They were just as nervous as she was.

She watched Jimmy K lead the vampires into the building, one small group at a time. She watched Namjoon, Taehyung, Yoongi, and Hoseok go in. She waited three minutes, then went in herself. She knew Namjoon was going to try to find Makai and make a deal first. If that didn’t work, they would fight. Catalina hoped it wouldn’t come to that, but as she descended the stairs and entered the tunnel, she knew it wasn’t going well. Voices bounced off the cement walls, mixing with the clanging of her footsteps against the metal floor. As soon as she reached the end of the tunnel, one of Namjoon’s friends, Priya, Catalina remembered, met her there.

Priya supposedly had very good hypnotic abilities, even against other vampires, which was why Namjoon chose her as their cover. She would make sure Catalina, Jungkook, and Jin got in and out without being seen. Catalina never got the chance to witness those abilities, so she just had to trust Namjoon’s word for it.

The fight had broken out in the central part of the basement. She couldn’t see her friends, but she didn’t want to spend too much time searching for them in the chaos. She needed to focus on her task. Catalina made it to the first door. The metal lock mechanism was tight and she had to get Priya’s help opening it. Once it was opened, she rushed to the person inside. It was a pale woman, lips so blue and eyes so sunken, Catalina would have assumed her to be dead in she hadn’t cracked her eyes open.

After taking the needle out and checking for any other wounds, she asked, “Do you think you can walk?”

The woman just stared at her, so Catalina lifted the woman’s arm and draped it over her shoulders, helping the woman to her feet. She was almost dead weight at first, surprisingly light, but then she slowly started shuffling her feet, trying her best to stay upright. A loud boom shook the ground, making Catalina flinch.

As fast as they could, they made their way back to the tunnel. Catalina glanced into the crowd. Across the giant room, an entire wall was destroyed, dust still in the air. She still couldn’t see her friends.

Jungkook and Jin, along with two police officers met them at the bottom of the stairs. The officers took the woman from Catalina.

“It sounds bad,” said Jungkook, his eyes wide.

“I can’t really tell what’s happening,” said Catalina. “I didn’t see any of them.”

Jungkook squeezed her hand once before heading down the tunnel with Priya.

“I’ll be quick,” he said.

Catalina watched him go. The sounds of the battle seemed to get louder. A scream broke through the noise, but it didn’t sound like someone she knew. She hoped Jungkook was staying safe. Waiting for him to return was agony. She didn’t know what she would do if he got hurt. Her worry must have been showing through, because Jin put a hand on her shoulder.

Two more officers came downstairs and waited with them.

By the time ten minutes passed, Catalina was shaking. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the entrance of the tunnel.

Footsteps echoed against the metal floor and Catalina’s heart sped up. When she saw Jungkook round the corner, she felt the tension melt off of her. He was carrying a young man in his arms and the woman hobbling beside him was clutching his arm and leaning into him. He passed the young man off to the officers, one of them carrying the man, the other helping the woman up the stairs.

As soon as Jungkook’s arms were free, Catalina threw herself at him. Jin took off down the tunnel with Priya next.

She didn’t let go of Jungkook for several minutes.

“Did you see them?” she asked. He shook his head.

The two officers from before came down the stairs and about a minute later, Jin appeared, helping someone down the tunnel.

The three of them continued like this, eventually trying their best to pick up two or three people each time.

The battle seemed to be calming down, and the next time Catalina went in, she noticed that almost everyone was either subdued or standing around. Someone was talking at the other side of the crowd, but she couldn’t see who it was, she couldn’t tell by the voice either. She still couldn’t see her friends.

The hallway was almost all open doors and empty rooms now. There were only a few left at the end of the hall. If the people inside could walk, she would try to get all of them at once.

Before she could reach the end of the hallway, a woman stepped out from one of the rooms, blocking them from going any further. Catalina recognized her as the blonde woman, Amanda. She was just as glamorous as she remembered, her blonde hair cascading over her shoulder, her red lips curled into a sinister smile.

Priya stepped in front of Catalina.

“Just go back to the others,” said Priya. “They must be looking for you.”

“I can smell her,” said Amanda. “You’re trying to hide her from me, but I know her scent. She’s right behind you, isn’t she?”

Priya didn’t say anything, she just clenched her fists at her sides.

“You don’t have to try anymore,” said Amanda. “I know her scent from the field. And when she visited us pretending to be Yoongi’s familiar.”

Catalina realized with a start that she never saw Amanda that day they bought Jimin. Which meant she was watching them the whole time, keeping herself unseen. Catalina felt a shiver run down her spine.

“We have your little friend,” said Amanda. “He’s our bargaining chip. Would you like to join him? It’ll pack a bigger punch if we have two of their pets instead of one.”

Priya growled and stepped forward. She didn’t get much of a chance to attack before Amanda lunged at her, faster than Catalina could even see. Amanda made quick work of Priya, wrestling her to the ground and snapping her neck so far around, her flesh was torn and her dead eyes stared at the ceiling as her chest hit the floor.

Catalina turned around and ran. She ran into an adjoining hallway, taking turns down tunnels she had no idea existed. She didn’t look back to see if Amanda was behind her. She ran until her lungs burned.

Where was she? She didn’t recognize this part of the facility. It looked like a service tunnel; cement walls were covered in pipes and access panels. The ground was metal grating, just like the entrance tunnel. Red, caged lights sparsely lined the bottom of the walls. The red light did nothing to calm her fear. Amanda wasn’t behind her. How? She was faster, Catalina shouldn’t stand a chance.

If I can get to Namjoon, or any of the others, they’ll protect me, she thought. But she didn’t know how to get back. She couldn’t stop moving though. The twists and turns were almost labyrinthine, taking her further and further away from her friends. Further away from her safety. That’s when another thought crossed her mind.

The longer she was gone, the more likely Jungkook was to go looking for her. And that was the last thing she wanted. They already had Jimin, or that’s what she thought anyway. She assumed that’s what Amanda was insinuating.

“Here, kitty kitty,” Amanda’s voice echoed throughout the tunnel. “If you keep running, you’ll run into some monsters down here. And pretty kitties like you will most certainly get eaten by the monsters.”

Catalina couldn’t see Amanda anywhere, but her voice sent a chill through her. Where has she heard those words before? Where has she seen this tunnel before? The familiar burn in her lungs forced her to stop and catch her breath.

Why did it feel like Catalina had already done all this?

A shadow dropped from the ceiling in front of her. Before she could scream, Amanda lunged at her and slapped a hand over her mouth.

“Where’s your other human friends?” she asked. “Where’s the pretty one with the big eyes?”

The hand over her mouth didn’t let up, so Catalina couldn’t answer even if she wanted to. Amanda wasn’t waiting around for an answer though. Catalina’s arms were secured behind her back with ease and she was forced to walk. They somehow made it out of the winding tunnels and to Makai’s office unnoticed.

Laying on one of the couches was Jimin, bound and gagged. Catalina’s eyes widened.

“Yeah, I wondered why I recognized this guy when we first got him,” said Makai. He was sitting behind his desk, looking over at Jimin. “I thought maybe I had run into him somewhere in town, or maybe at my yoga lessons on Thursdays. But then Yoongi bought him, and I realized he was one of the humans at the baseball field that day. I can’t believe it took me so long to figure it out! Yoongi was a good actor that day, wasn’t he?”

Catalina didn’t answer.

“Yeah, you guys were good,” said Makai. “And at first, it was fine. He bought his friend back. No big deal. At the end of the day, I still got paid and could keep doing what I was doing. But then you all came in here and wrecked my stuff. It made me kind of sad. I really did like Yoongi. I thought he was cool. I thought his whole clan was cool! Don’t worry, I’m not going to kill them. At least I’ll try not to. I want to work a deal out with them, and that’s where you come in.”

“It’s just a harmless trade,” said Amanda.

“Right! It sounds like they’re talking out there right now, so let’s go out there and see if we can work something out,” said Makai. His smile then disappeared as he stood up from behind the desk. He pulled out two large pocket knives, opening one and handing the other to Amanda. If it’s a harmless trade, why do they have those?, Catalina thought. She didn’t want to die today. She didn’t want Jimin to die and she hoped to God Jungkook stuck to the plan because she didn’t want him to die either.

Makai hauled Jimin to his feet and pushed him out the door. Amanda shoved Catalina after them.

The battle was still halted. Namjoon was at the front of the crowd, speaking with a woman. Mohati. Catalina remembered her from the baseball field. Yoongi was beside him. Taehyung was there as well, a subdued vampire on the ground under his knee.

“ALRIGHT, EVERYONE SHUT UP!” Makai bellowed. The crowd went silent and everyone’s attention was brought to the two vampires and their human captives. Catalina saw Namjoon’s eyes widen at the sight of them. She saw panic flash through Taehyung’s eyes. He almost stood up. She couldn’t see where Hoseok was. She hoped he was okay.

Makai began speaking, addressing mainly Namjoon. They argued, but Catalina couldn’t focus on the conversation over her own pounding heartbeat. Namjoon took a step forward and Amanda brought her knife to Catalina’s throat. Makai did the same with Jimin. His eyes were wide and terrified. He was staring at Taehyung, who matched his expression. Catalina squeezed her eyes closed. The metal dug into her neck. She swore it was breaking the skin. She could hear Jimin’s panicked breathing and she wanted to reach a hand out to him, but her arms were held in an iron grip. Another voice made her eyes fly open.

Jungkook had pushed through the crowd and Yoongi was now holding him back from approaching. Catalina met his eyes. She never wanted to see that kind of terror in his eyes. That pain. She never wanted to see him crying the way he was. Catalina felt tears well up in her own eyes at the sight.

“…you know we can’t let you do that,” Namjoon was saying. “There has to be something we can work out…”

Catalina assumed Makai wanted to bribe Namjoon into letting him continue his organization. She assumed Namjoon was trying to work out a way to not let that happen, but without casualties. Blood was rushing in her ears and the only thing she could focus on was Jungkook. She wanted to tell him not to do anything rash. He needed to stay alive. He needed to get out of this unharmed.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of movement. A vampire she didn’t recognize tried to attack Makai. Namjoon yelled at him to stop, but it was too late. The vampire was tackled by Mohati and the last thing Catalina heard was Jungkook, screaming her name, before she felt the searing pain of the knife dragging across her throat.

Within seconds, her hearing went out, her vision went dark, and before her mind went blank, she prayed she was the only one dying today.

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royaltee98 · 3 years

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The worst sickle cell crisis

September 25-October 3.2021

Saturday September 25.2021

This was Sunday 2:00 in the morning mom just finished changing my foot and I was watching the golden girls.I fell asleep for a few minutes feeling this awful pain in my lower back I called my dad to tell him that I was having pain and to tell mom but instead I called her. She came over and laid with me rubbing my back and gave me some Motrin, until the next morning…. to be continued

Sunday September 26.2021

This was Saturday afternoon I told my dad I was going to shower while in the shower I wasn’t feeling so good I had to rush and wrap myself in a towel and go sat under the ac because I was feeling very tired and shaking. My mom came in my room and said I didn’t so good, still in awful pain I had a nail appointment that I made last week so I went with mom feeling ok, it took like 30 minutes to do. I got back in the car feeling very tired again, I walked into my house put my stuff down I crawled into bed and continued to watched golden girls I fell asleep again and mom was still rubbing my back. I just couldn’t get comfortable I was moving all my bed.

My mom said do you want to go hospital I immediately said yes it was so hard to get dress my mom helped me while getting the hospital bag ready. I was in so pain it was very difficult to walk so my dad swung me over his shoulders and put me in my mom cars. While driving to the hospital I felt every single stop, bump, and turn in the road. I was crying”. I need relief, I need fast” for me to say that means the pain was sky high. Couldn’t get comfortable always turning and sitting still was so hard in the car.

I got to the emergency room at this point the pain was beyond a 10 more like 10,000 I felt like drawing out of my skin and curling up into a ball until the pain was 100% gone. Once I got in the back and the nurses started an IV for fluids I got strong *pain medication. I would sleep for 10 minutes and right back up balling crying, turning, asking for more relief.

I was being transferred to the 3 floor which was orthopedic floor with a clean hospital bed. I was going in and out of pain in between trying to sleep to the prior medication I was given back at home. My mom was always rubbing my back, hips, and legs. Getting up to use the restroom felt like my legs were set on fire and about to break at any moment. I spent that night and half the that next morning in so much pain and agony.

Monday September 27. 2021

It was the next morning still in was much pain. I did a chest X-ray and take and *nebulizer breathing treatment. This sweet nurse told my mom and I, I needed to be *I.C.U because my oxygen level was at a 45 and had pneumonia, no one on this planet earth should be at a 45. SIDE-NOTE: I cried but I remember when my auntie I wasn’t allowed in the ICU to say my goodbyes because I was to young I was 14 when she pass away from cancer. My body was asking for help and I was transferred to the I.C.U. Once I got into the ICU the nurses put me on the this *high flow oxygen machine. It felt like I was growing in my air the oxygen was going so fast up my nose and the taste was horrible.

I really didn’t have an appetite but I knew I eat something so I won’t have another on my hands. I took a few bites for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Still coughing, in an *active sickle cell crisis , pain was going on. I was in misery I just wanted home to see my sister.

Tuesday September 28. 2021

This morning I did so much such as go get a *CAT scan, do a *echocardiography and I need to use the restroom today. The nurse get a wheelchair for me, it felt so good to come out of ICU. I did a CAT scan before so I was use to it. I got to my room I made a thumbs up gesture to my mom. A few hours went then the echocardiogram technician came to my room, I was pretty nosey she allowed me to look. I asked questions because I was curious the way my heart sounded when she put on the audio gave me more power to fight my way out of the ICU.

The pain management doctor came to ask how is my pain and have went yet. I said my pain is ok and no I haven’t went he said ok and said that he would make a medical mixture for me. I was ok with that.

For rest of the day doctors and different labs techincan came in my room.

Wednesday September 29. 2021

I sat up the chair cause the bed was staring to get uncomfortable and by this time I haven’t went to bathroom and it was kind of getting painful by I still needed eat still taking a few bites of breakfast and I said to my mom that my stomach was hurting. In the ICU there is a little separator dividing the room in the corner was a toilet. ⚠️ TMI ⚠️ Ever since I was born I suffered and still suffer from constipation. That morning I took the mixture pill with my other medication. Let me tell you when I sat on that toilet it was like WW3 I could destroy the whole of Afghanistan the smell that came out my body could have taken me out. It went on for some time back to back ever for the next few days.

After I went I was so hungry any time a nurse came in and ask me if I wanted anything I said yes I usually got ginger ale and chocolate pudding, I love me some snack pack chocolate pudding.

I want to shoutout to my mom because I had so many wires on me, she did everything for me if you know what I mean 😉

Every hour my nurse came to check on me and my mom and ever 4 hours to me my iv medication and if I needed any pain medication. I started to wean off the pain medication because I didn’t want to get addicted to them but if I needed I would ask politely.

I had to sleep on my left side because I had the pneumonia was in my right lung. So I facing the door to my room I prayed to God basically saying: Dear God, please heal my lung so I can get out of ICU and to be able to see my sister and dad. I know that you can do it I believe in you.

Thursday September 30. 2021

Still in the ICU feeling much still can’t take a deep breath but I was working on the *breathing spirometer that is mess felt like hell. More doctors came in to update me and my mom, they said I looked perfectly fine but my CAT scan and X-ray was showing that I had fluid overload, a small amount of fluid around of heart, and pneumonia.

In my head I was like I need to get out of here. Still working on the breathing barometer trying to cleat my lung coughing like a maniac and sitting up off my lungs.

That night the new season of station 19 and grey anatomy came on so my mom and I watched while I ate my hospital dinner and mom had her dinner. After that I FaceTime my sister as I did ever night in hospital saying goodnight and making jokes I say goodnight and can’t wait to get home to her.

Ever other night my mom changes my wound I had of 10 years now; she was coming to the end of wrapping the rolled gauze around my foot. Around the same time the I got a new night shift nurse she would so sweet and her charge nurse pass her a piece of paper. She read it and wrote on my room board 2258 and said that I was switching floors. At that moment I knew God heard my prayer for the night before I was so excited that I was moving rooms.

My mom stared to packed our belongs and checking the room to see if we had left anything in the cabinet.

Friday October 1 2021

It was barley 1:00 in the morning on our way to the new floor. This floor was called *PCU entering our new room 2258 where we spent the next three days in. I told my mom one day closer to seeing my sister; the nurses slid me over to my new bed which was super uncomfortable. Now on this new floor between 12 and 4 they you sleep which was very comforting to hear.

I really didn’t sleep cause cause there was lab technicians taking my blood and nurses taking vitals sign. Once the sun came up my mom and I started to get up. I had such an appetite I ate all of my breakfast and was still hungry but my mom kept a sash of little snack from previous breakfast, Lunch, and dinner trays that I didn’t eat prior to being backed up so I had my favorite combo ginger ale and snack pack chocolate pudding.

The same doctor from the ICU came up was updated my mom and I still looked fine on the outside but the inside was still acting up. After they left I did so research why are keeping it is because I had a low grade fever due to pneumonia that’s all.

The physical therapist came in to work with me and my limp due to the wound I had and still have for 10 years. I walked the entire PCU floor, basic excise like in and out kicks, stepping in place, hip opener, and muscle resistance.

The more I felt better the more food was on my hospital food tray that night for dinner I had pasta and meatball with ice tea, and chocolate pudding. For the rest of night my mom and I watched tv and was heading to bed.

Saturday October 2. 2021

That morning my mom and I had a mission I was to freshen up, take my meds, let the nurses give me my Iv antibiotic and we were going for a walk on the PCU floor. After all that I decided to sit up in the chair again. The doctors came in and still I was feeling better but the x-rays were getting clearer still had pneumonia but I since couching and using my breathing barometer is was getting better. They wanted to still keep me over night to watch me for any fever spikes.

The fever spikes will only happened at 12:00 in the night so they still concerned about that. Physical therapist came to walked me and this time I didn’t even realized that I walked the over floor I was going my speed like yesterday but it seemed faster.

My dad stopped by to give me some really pretty flowers and to relieve my mom so she can go home and freshen up and checked on to my sister. My dad and I went for a walk and by the time we finished she was on her back to the hospital. She brought Popeyes and we watched the movie Selena I almost cried because I heard how she died by never got to watch it, it was the older one with Jennifer Lopez.

We continue to watch tv as we went to bed.

Sunday October 3 .2021

This was the morning I felt that I was going to be discharged form the hospital and on our way home. For breakfast I had some pancakes and sausage to drink I had some orange juice and the nurse gave me my medication and I was just chilling. The doctors came in by now it was just the fever spikes at night was reason they kept me an extra night. The nurse I had was trying to discharge me I really appreciated that.

Lunch time had just begun at the same time the nurse had came into my room to tell me I had been discharged in mid bite of my pasta and meatball I just felt it I was so happy to see my sister and dad. She said do you want to finish your lunch or just want to be discharge I said I wanted to be discharged so she was took off my heart monitor, pulse oximeter, and the IV I had.

She read me my discharge papers that I had to sign after that she went to go get a wheelchair and my mom went ahead down to get the car. For a moment I was left in the room by myself I turned on some gospel music and was praising God and thanking him for bringing me out of this one.

I told my mom to not to tell my dad I was being discharged cause I wanted to surprise him. He even called me I said the I using the bathroom the truth was I was sitting sign my discharge papers. While being rolled down to the lobby I kept thanking God for all his had done.

Pulling up to my house I got out of the car rang the doorbell and my dad opened the door and was so surprised and my sister was still sleeping so I waited until she had gotten up to tell her that I was in the ICU she just was surprised.

Now it has been four days I been home feeling much better still keeping up on my water intake and taking my temperature, oxygen levels and working on my breathing spirometer. God has and will forever been by my family and I side in times of needs he is just so good, caring, loving, merciful. Thank you God.

*pain medication: Dilaudid: treat moderate to severe pain

*nebulizer: A device for producing a fine spray of liquid, used for example for inhaling a medicinal drug

*I.C.U: a unit in a hospital providing intensive care for critically ill or injured patients that is staffed by specially trained medical personnel and has equipment that allows for continuous monitoring and life support

*high flow oxygen machine: Only offered if traditional oxygen therapy isn't helping, high flow oxygen therapy helps reduce the effort your body needs to put into breathing. By decreasing the effort of breathing and creating a small amount of positive pressure in the upper airways, this therapy helps improve oxygen delivery.

*active sickle cell crisis (in my opinion): is the pain the starts you feel it as the bad cells dies off

*CAT scan: n X-ray image made using a form of tomography in which a computer controls the motion of the X-ray source and detectors, processes the data, and produces the image.

*echocardiogram:a test of the action of the heart using ultrasound waves to produce a visual display, used for the diagnosis or monitoring of heart disease.

*breathing Spirometer:a common office test used to assess how well your lungs work by measuring how much air you inhale, how much you exhale and how quickly you exhale.

*PCU: The Progressive Care Unit or PCU is a telemetry (vital signs) monitored unit that provides care for adult patients requiring continuous cardiac monitoring

Love T.B.❤️

#sicklecellwarriors

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what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years

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Riding On Ch2: Did Ceasar Really Live Here?

Summary: Frank’s off to Vegas with the Circle of Truth boys for Jake’s stag do…what could POSSIBLY go wrong???

Warnings: Bad Language words. SMUT (NSFW, no under 18s)

Pairing: Frank Adler x Fliss Gallagher

A/N: Imma start running now so @sweater-daddiesdumbdork can’t catch me… Chapter Song: Stripped by Depeche Mode

Series Masterlist // WIYPT Masterlist

Metropolis has nothing on this, you’re breathing in fumes I taste when we kiss

March 2019

Fliss stretched out in bed, keeping her eyes closed as she lay still, Frank’s arm curled loosely over her hip as he continued to sleep besides her. She knew her alarm hadn’t gone off yet, so it must have been before 7. Mind you, her sleeping patterns had been out of whack for the last week or so anyway now. Apparently another lovely little side effect Bean was giving her. On the plus side, however, she was into her 16th week now and for the last 10 days or so the sickness had remained at bay so she was hoping she was through that particular phase.

But then, no sooner had she thanked her lucky stars, the familiar feeling began in her stomach, rising to her throat. She threw the blankets off and flung the bedroom door open hurrying to the bathroom where she dropped to her knees and vomited into the toilet.

Her sudden movement jolted Frank awake, and after blinking a few times he heard the tell-tale retching and with a sigh he pushed himself out of bed, yawning and rubbing his eyes as he padded down the hall and into the bathroom.

“Hey…” he said gently, dropping to his knees by Fliss, rubbing at her back. She turned her eyes to him, which were watering, before she hastily dipped back to the toilet. One of her hands was holding her hair back so Frank reached up to gently do it for her, sweeping it out of the way. He knew there was nothing to be done other than letting her ride it out so he simply sat there with her for a few minutes until eventually she sat back on her heels, her hands running down her face.

“Sorry.” she mumbled as she emerged from behind her fingers, cheeks flushed from the heat and exertion.

“What for?” he chuckled, cupping her face in his hands.

“Waking you up.” she shrugged “It’s your birthday…”

“Don’t apologise honey” he shook his head “You need anything?”

“Yeah a shower.” she grumbled “And apple juice. Actually, do we have any apples, like actual apples?”

Frank nodded “Yeah, I picked you some up yesterday”

“Then I want an apple. And juice” she said. Frank smiled.

“Before or after shower?”

“After.”

“Ok.” he said, his hand running through her hair. He stood up and helped her to her feet before he dropped a kiss to her forehead and walked back to their bedroom, leaving her to it. He glanced at the clock, which was telling him it was just gone 6, which was an hour before the alarm went off. Knowing full well neither of them would be going back to sleep he flicked on the lamp as it was still a little dark outside and wandered into the kitchen where he poured Fliss a glass of juice and sliced an apple into 4 for her. He then made himself an instant coffee, before he headed back the bedroom, placing Fliss’ juice and snack down on her night stand before he dropped back onto bed and turned on the TV.

He was watching some news report on some senator who was giving Trump a blasting (not unjustified either in Frank’s eyes, the president was a moron) when Fliss walked into the bedroom looking a lot better as she towel dried her hair, her robe wrapped around her. She walked round her side of the bed, downed the juice in about 3 mouthfuls and bit into a piece of apple, her mouth crunching at the fruit.

“You feeling better?”

“Loads.” she nodded, reaching for another piece before she walked to her vanity unit and sat down to comb out her hair. Frank took the opportunity to head to the bathroom himself, grabbing a clean pair of boxers as he went, dropping a kiss to Fliss’s head.

Fliss heard the shower turning on as she stood up and grabbed a pair of panties. She was far too warm to sit in a robe, damned hormones but she was damned if she was getting dressed so fucking early in the day either, not when her and Mary had presents to give him before work. She pulled her underwear on over her legs and then retrieved Frank’s T-shirt from the back of the chair she was sat on. She pulled it over her head and then frowned a little as it felt…well, odd. She glanced down and her eyes widened slightly as there, albeit very small and covered by the pale-blue cotton, there was a swell protruding from between her hips.

She swallowed slightly and moved towards the mirror, her hands creeping under the t-shirt as she gently placed her hands over the bump. Yep, it was 100% there. And almost like it had appeared in the last 10 minutes because she certainly hadn’t noticed it in the shower. But then again, she had been half asleep. After a few more moments simply gazing at her belly she moved and dropped onto the bed, crawling onto her side and grabbing the rest of her apple. She ate the remaining two slices, her hand still resting on her stomach and looked up as Frank walked into the room, boxers tight around his upper thighs, his head covered by a towel as he furiously rubbed at his hair.

When he finally emerged from the towel he glanced at Fliss who was looking at him, her eyes shining and she bit her lip. Frank grinned, he knew that look very well, and this was one side effect of her pregnancy he was more than happy to help her out with especially seeing as their sex life had taken a dive over the 8 to 12 week period as she’d been so tired.

Happy fucking birthday to me…

“You want something?” he asked as he tossed the towel to the floor.

“No, well, yeah, but…I got something to show you…” she said, standing up and walking round the bed towards him. “Come here.”

She held her hand out to him, and puzzled he took it. She gently pressed it to her belly and it took him a moment but then he felt it. Her stomach, it was different. His eye widened and he glanced down between them, noticing for the first time the ever so small bump which was sticking out from her pelvis. He glanced up at Fliss and she grinned, his own face cracking into a huge smile as he gently grabbed the hem of the t-shirt she was wearing, pulling it up as he knelt down so his face was level with her stomach, his hands softly cupping her bump.

“Hey Bean…” he whispered quietly as Fliss’ hand gently tangled in his damp hair. He looked up at her and her fingers softly caressed his cheek as he grinned before he pressed a kiss to her belly and his hands moved to the outside of her thighs, rubbing them softly as he stood up. “That’s the best birthday present ever…”

“Still want a boy?” Fliss smiled as his hands came to rest on her hips, her own sliding up his bare chest and round his neck.

“Yep.” he grinned and Fliss chuckled before he shrugged “Truth be told Lissy, I don’t much care. As long as he or she is healthy, it doesn’t matter.”

“Do you wanna find out, what it is I mean?” she asked, her fingers tangling in the hair at the back of his head “I know we got a few weeks before we can but…”

Frank pondered for a moment. Diane hadn’t found out with Mary, but then she hadn’t had anyone really (bar him) to care or get excited about it. Did he want to know? Knowing beforehand meant they’d be able to prepare properly…and they could give them a name. He didn’t know Greg and Zara when Zara had been expecting their kids but Simon and Lisa had found out for both of theirs, and it was almost as if the kids had been there with them once they had done, referring to them by their proposed names…

“Honestly, I don’t know.” he mused as he looked at Fliss “I kinda do, but then I kinda don’t…what about you?” “I don’t know either.” she said gently “I thought I did, but then I kinda like the idea of it being a surprise, because like you said, it doesn’t really matter.” “We can think about it.” he said. “Now, what I do want to know…how are the boobs feeling today?” he asked, causing her to laugh gently as his hands began pulling at the hem of the t-shirt, tugging it up over her head as he glanced down at her body.

“Sore, so be gentle” she said as he smiled, chuckling slightly before his hands softly cupped her face, his lips brushed hers and he paused, their mouths barely touching as they simply looked at one another, breathing in each other’s air. With soft sigh, Frank tilted Fliss’ face back to his and kissed her, this time hard as his tongue traced the inside of her bottom lip gently and he could taste the apple she’d been eating before. She let out a soft sigh into his mouth and he moved, his hands sliding round her back to pull her closer to him, lips leaving hers and sliding down her chin and jawline to her neck where he softly placed an open mouthed kiss to the spot in the crook of her shoulder that drove her wild. She shivered in his hold, her breath hitching as he smirked against her skin, his hands on her back tightening as her body melted into his.

“Frank…” she whispered huskily, as he paused his actions, his breath tickling on her ear “need you…”

His nose nuzzled into her neck “Yeah?” he went back to sucking the skin on her neck into his mouth, gently enough so as to not leave a mark but harshly enough to cause her body to jolt slightly. “Yeah…” she whined, gently pushing him back towards the bed. He backing up the few steps before his legs folded as his knees hit the side of the mattress and he sat down. With a graceful movement Fliss straddled him, knee either side of his waist and he leaned forwards, his tongue swirling around one of her pebbled nipples.

“Fuck…” she hissed as her hips bucked violently at his touch and he pulled back to look at her, arching an eyebrow at how responsive she was being. “They’re sensitive…””

“Sorry baby…” he chuckled, his mouth leaving her chest alone and moving to her collar bone were he peppered hardly there kisses from one side to the other, watching and listening as she rolled her head back, baring her neck to him, enjoying the feeling of his soft mouth contrasting to the scratch of his beard as he went. Frank could tell she was getting worked up, she was pushing down on his lap hard, seeking some kind of friction, rocking her hips forward and back.

“I need…” she moaned softly into his mouth as he tilted his crotch upwards, hitting her spot and he smirked slightly as she pulled back, her teeth pulling his bottom lip. “Frankie…”

“What do you want baby girl?” he asked, his eyes closed and his voice husky as he nuzzled at her neck, hands flexing on her hips.

“Don’t make me beg.” she pleaded and, well, who was he to deny her what she wanted? In a soft movement he pivoted them both and gently moved so Fliss was led on the bed, underneath him and he stood, his hands hooking into the sides of her underwear and he peeled them down her legs before he dispensed of his boxers, dropping back to his knees and crawling over his girl. He kept himself propped up on his hands, now well aware of the small bump between them which was making him tentative a little, not wanting to press any of his weight on her. Fliss, however, had clearly had enough of waiting and sat up, pushing on his shoulders demandingly. With a chuckle he obliged, laying back so she could straddle him, which she did with a hunger he wasn’t quite sure he’d seen from her before. As she sank down onto him, they both groaned slightly, his hips flexing upwards as she began to ride him, his hands settling on her hips as she found a steady rhythm that felt good.

Frank met her movements thrust for thrust, pulling her hips down as he did and she leaned forward slightly, placing her hands on his chest, her fingers digging into his skin as she moved. Frank groaned as his eyes flicked up and down her body and he saw her slightly distended belly, her marginally swollen breasts which bounced as she moved and the various other changes in her body thanks to the fact she was growing his baby. It was fucking incredible.

“God you’re beautiful…” he exhaled as he sat up, pressing his lips to hers as she mewled at the change of angle, grinding down against him harder “I love you so fucking much.” “I love you too…”she panted, her nose rubbing against his as he pushed up harder, making her cry out. “Fuck Lissy…” he said, between gritted teeth as she continued to roll her hips, crying out loudly once more as the heat began to rise in her belly. He read the signals right, as he always did, pulling her down onto him harder, again and again.

“Frankie…I’m gonna…” and then she let out a low wail, throwing her head back and she came undone, her hands tightening on his shoulders. Frank held her close, guiding her through her orgasm, as she collapsed forward, her head lolling against his shoulder. He thrust upwards again, and again, the spring in his own belly tightening as his rhythm became disjointed. Sensing he was close Fliss moved her head to watch him, her eyes locking onto his before they fluttered shut, eyelashes laying long against his flushed cheeks as he came with a pretty intense surge, moaning a mixture of curse words and her name. As Fliss pushed her hands through his hair, her mouth gently nipping at his jaw line as his throat bobbed, his eyes flickered open again as he took a deep breath. With a sated smile his head dropped to rest against hers as the haze from the high began to clear, and he ran his hands gently up her back. Fliss smiled back, the pads of her fingers cupping his jaw as she pressed a deep kiss to his lips.

“Happy birthday Sailor.”

******

The next couple of weeks past fairly quickly which wasn’t a surprise. Fliss had been holding interviews for a new member of staff to come in and help Joanne out whilst she stepped back a little as she had promised Frank she would, focussing on the teaching and leaving everything else to her employees. Frank, in the meantime had found himself being pulled into the planning of Jake’s Batchelor Party by Greg and Simon. Not that there was much left to do mind. They were off to Vegas, it was all booked and paid for now, and they were just planning the last activities out. They were all staying at Caesars for 3 nights, and it had cost a small fucking fortune but as Fliss had pointed out, so what? Once Bean had arrived they wouldn’t be doing anything for a while so he might as well make the most of it. So for one month and one month only he’d not put anything into the savings account to ensure he had enough to enjoy the trip.

The Thursday night was supposedly going to be the quiet one as Frank had suggested they head over to Mandalay Bay for low stakes Poker on the Friday, a suggestion which had been well received. Saturday night they were all heading to Omnia in the evening, Jake’s brother having booked a table on the balcony terrace. The thing was, Frank knew full well that there wasn’t going to be a quiet night, and for that reason had talked them out of planning anything for the day time, instead suggesting they took it as they found it. Greg had agreed, stating he was quite happy to lie in bed until midday and then collapse around the pool. A proposition Frank was also a big fan of.

Fliss talked him into buying a new suit for the Saturday evening as his trademark loud shirts were out of the question for the club dress code. (but not for the Thursday and Friday…) She’d picked out a dark blue and white fitted pinstripe ensemble, it was something he wouldn’t have thought about wearing usually but when he had tried it on he’d instantly liked it, and so had she from the look in her eyes when he emerged from the fitting room.

The day before they were flying out, Fliss had a message from her brother to say that he would be arriving on Friday and was in town for a month or so, something to do with a contract. As Bill and Verity were away for a fortnight in Italy, Fliss eagerly agreed to collect him from the airport and they made arrangements to hang out over the weekend...

And that was that.

“Viva Las Vegas!” Fran sang, putting on his best Elvis voice as he wandered into the living room grinning as he saw Mary roll her eyes. “Viva Las Vegas…”

“Is he gonna be singing that ALL night?” Mary looked at Fliss as Frank bent over the back of the couch to sing it into the 8 year old’s ear. She batted him away as Fliss looked at him, chuckling.

“Yeah but he’ll be gone tomorrow so it’s all good”.

“Admit it, you’re both gonna miss me.” he said, straightening up.

“Like a hole in the head.” Mary murmured, her eyes flicking back to the lap top resting on her crossed legs.

Frank snorted and dropped a kiss to the top of Fliss’ head before he wandered into the kitchen area, pulling a beer from the fridge.

“You all packed?” Fliss asked as he returned, picking her legs up as he sat down and draped them over his own.

“Yup.” he nodded.

“What time is your flight back on the Sunday?”

“3pm Vegas time.” he said, “Get back into Tampa bout 10pm.”

“And you got cars booked to bring you home?”

He nodded.

“Wow, I’m impressed” she grinned and he shrugged.

“They told me to organise transport, so I did.” he said with a smirk. Fliss looked at him and raised her eyebrow.

“What did you book?”

He looked at her for a second and then reached for his phone, before he handed it to her. She looked down at the white stretch hummer and gave a snort.

“They’re gonna love that!”

He nodded “Got one sorted at the other end too.”

“Well as long as you don’t lose Jake on the roof or marry a hooker…”

“Yeah, but a tiger in the bathroom would be pretty cool.” he shrugged. Fliss snorted as his hand gently ran up and down her leg.

“You know I went to Vegas once when I was about 23.” Fliss mused, looking at him. “Went with a group of the girls from the team. We got a limo to take us to the next club, because I wanted to make sure we didn’t get lost or separated. It took almost 40 minutes to get there, and cost something like $120.”

“That’s actually pretty reasonable.” Frank looked at her.

“Yeah, we thought so at the time.” she continued “Then the next morning, we found out that we literally just went across the street. There was a pedestrian bridge that we could have used that would've taken three minutes."

Frank tipped his head back in a loud roar of laughter “Dumbass!”

Fliss shrugged and grinned “When in Vegas…”

***** “Did Caesar really live here?” Jake said, slapping his hand on the check in desk. Frank groaned, shaking his head with a snort as besides him Greg and Simon both laughed.

“If I had a dollar for every time I had heard that Sir, I’d own this place.” The lady said in good spirits as she brought up their bookings. Jake was sharing a room with Simon, Jake’s brother Rob was in with his cousin Aaron, the 2 guys Chad and Jeff from Jake’s work were paired leaving Frank to share with Greg, which suited them both fine. When it got to their turn to check in, Greg offered his credit card as surety for the room declaring that they’d sort it upon check out but then warned Frank not to go charging any boats and hoes to the bill.

“You do realise we’re in a land locked state Greg?” Frank asked as he leaned on the counter as the guy seeing to them took a scan of Greg’s card.

“It’s Vegas man, anything goes.” he shrugged.

Once everyone was sorted, they headed straight to one of the bars for a drink, settling down into the various couches and chairs, ordering a beer each. Frank fired a quick message to Fliss to let them know they’d arrived and were sorted before he stuck his phone back in his pocket and reached for his beer.

“So, you all set for impending fatherhood?” Simon looked at him. “I mean not that you haven’t already with Mary like but…” Frank snorted and took a drink of his beer “All truth be told I’m shitting myself.”

“Your Mrs is pregnant?” Rob looked at him and Jake frowned.

“I told you this ages ago.” “Man I slept and drank since then!” Rob shrugged, before he looked at Frank and tipped his beer bottle in his direction “Congratulations man, when’s she due?”

“21st August.” Frank smiled “And thanks”

“Best thing in the world.” Rob smiled “Although, not gonna lie, it’s hard work…but of course you know shit already…” “Well only from the 6 month mark.” Frank shrugged “I only ever helped Diane out before that, the odd night here and there.”

“Meh, up until the 6 month point they’re boring anyway.” Jake said and everyone round the table looked at him, Greg snorting. “What? They are!” Jake pressed “All they do is eat,shit,piss,cry and sleep…”

“Yeah but, come on. Lying on your back with a bottle or a boob in your mouth sounds pretty good to me.” Simon quipped, and the rest of the group laughed.

After a few more drinks they headed up to shower before meeting back in the casino where Aaron suggested they head up to Freemont Street. So they did just that. They headed outside, hitching cabs for what was supposed to be a reasonably quiet few drinks in the late afternoon-slash-early evening. But nothing ever goes down that way does it? The few drinks became many, the early evening became night, as they wandered into the various bars and casinos and after losing some money in the old style slot Machines at The Golden Nugget they all headed back out and became engrossed by a Mo-Town band who were playing on a stage under the covered street. Mo-Town then became 80s, which then became Indie and before they knew it they’d enjoyed several light shows and it was almost midnight, so they decided to head back and call it a night.

Of course, once back at the hotel, they didn’t stop.

The drinking continued, using the free drinks whilst gambling policy to their advantage, each shoving a dollar at a time in the old blackjack machines, betting a quarter.

When the last 25c Frank bet was lost he stood up, hiccupping and announced he needed the bathroom. Simon declared this was the best idea Frank had had all evening, and the two of them made their way over to the corridor, Greg catching them up.

“Thought it was only girls who went to pee in groups?” Frank looked at him.

“Hey, I’m a modern guy…” Greg shrugged before he banged into Simon who had stopped dead outside the bathroom door.

“Move man…” Simon said, swaying slightly.

Greg squinted and looked at Simon, frowning and when he saw who Simon was arguing with, he let out a snort.

“Si, dude, that’s-“

“Don’t tell him…” Frank muttered, burping slightly, “I need to film this…” He reached in his pocket and fumbled with his phone, hitting the record button, before he held it up.

“Oh shit, hang on, we’re…” he snorted and Greg laughed as their faces filled the screen, before Frank flipped the camera from facing at them so that it was recording Simon. “I ain’t telling you again…” Simon stared at the doorway to the bathroom, or at least he thought he was.

What he was actually doing was staring at his reflection in the mirror to the right of the door.

“Ok, don’t say I didn’t warn you…” Simon snarled, and he drew his hand back. Before Frank or Greg’s drunken minds could kick into stop him he’d thrown his fist straight into the glass. It shattered, shards falling to the floor and Simon fell back slightly, utterly shocked.

“Fuck!” Frank gave a yell as he turned off the camera and stuck his phone in his pocket.

“Ow…shit…man…” Simon exclaimed, looking down at his fist which was now dripping blood.

A few people had gathered now to watch as Frank and Greg both stepped forward, grabbing Simon by the arms, their need for the bathroom suddenly forgotten as they had one purpose only, to get him as far away from the evidence as possible.

“Security…2 o’clock…” Greg moaned “Simon, you’re a fucking idiot…Frank, what do we do?”

“Fuck you asking me for?” Frank looked at him. “You’re the lawyer.”

“I’m also shit faced.” Greg slurred.

“Yeah, and my fiancé is 18 weeks pregnant.” Frank shot back.

“What…” Greg stopped walking, causing Simon to do the same “What the hell has that got to do with anything?” “Nothin’” Frank grinned “I just like sayin’ it.” “Look, you deal with Mall Cop, I’ll get him out of here…” Greg said, eyeing up the Security guard who was getting nearer and nearer. “You know how to deal with authority.” “No…no I don’t!”

“Sure you do, you went out with a cop didn’t you?” “Dude, that was years ago!”

“Even better, maybe she’s like a Captain now.” Greg shrugged.

“She’s with a Captain, does that count?”

“Why…how do you know that?” Greg looked at him.

“Facebook.” Frank shrugged.

“You’re on her Facebook?”

“It didn’t end badly, we’re friends…anyway, this has nothing to do with dickwad here!” Frank pointed to Simon who was stood swaying, still looking at his hand. “Focus…”

“Yes, Focus…” Greg nodded “Stands for fuck off cos ur stupid…” “That’s…that’s not a bad idea.” Frank nodded “Let’s just fuck off, pretend we don’t know him.” “Good…good plan…” Greg agreed.

“So, we just leave…” Frank looked at him “Deny any knowledge…” “Gentlemen?” The security guard who had now reached them spoke and Frank turned to face him. The guy was huge. Taller than him, wider than him…

“Hi.” Greg spoked.

“What’s happened to your friend?”

“Friend? No,we errr, we only just met him.” Frank said. He leant forward a and whispered conspiratorially “Between you and me I think he’s a little bit drunk…”

The Security guard looked at Frank sceptically, before he turned to Simon “Sir…” Simon looked up and grinned “Woah, you’re like…” he turned to Frank “He’s like a rhino, Frank.”

Frank was about to reply when he realised Simon had called him by his name. Greg looked at him, then to Simon, then to the security guard who had his arms folded.

“Never met him before huh?”

“Shit.” Frank groaned.

****** “How’s the hand?” Frank asked as Simon dropped onto a sun lounger. Greg snorted and Simon glared at them both.

“I can’t believe you let me do that…”

“We didn’t know you were gonna punch the mirror!” Greg shook his head.

“And you fucking filmed it then sent it to the Circle Of Truth Chat!” he shook his head. “What about the whole ‘What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas’ promise?”

Frank chuckled, as he took a mouthful of his beer “I would say I’m sorry but I’m not.”

“I’m never gonna live that down.” Simon groaned.

“Yeah and you owe me two hundred bucks.” Greg looked at him over his sunglasses “I had to pay for the damage”

Frank smirked and then his phone went off. He reached for it where he’d stashed it under his shirt beneath the lounger and smiled as he saw it was Fliss.

He stood up, answering and walked away from the group a little.

“Hey Sweetheart.”

“Hey, how’s the head?”

“Not as bad as Simon’s hand.”

Fliss laughed “Yeah, not gonna lie, that video was hilarious. First thing I saw when I woke up.”

“How you feeling?” he asked, as he leaned against one of the glass boards that surrounded the pool

“I’m fine.” she replied “Bean is behaving.”

“Good. What about Mary?”

“She’s been fine. Just on my way to go get her then we’re gonna go meet Steeby at the airport and then I’m making tacos.” “What kind?” Frank grinned.

“Chicken and prawn…although I can’t have the prawns can I?” she groaned. “So not fair.”

“So why are you making them and torturing yourself?” Frank laughed.

“Because Mary asked.” “You don’t have to feed her whatever she asks for!” Frank shook his head.

“I know but it’s Friday.” Fliss said, as if that meant something “It was either that or the salad, and I can’t eat blue cheese either, and that’s much worse in my opinion.”

“Well, when he’s born…” “Or she…” “Whatever, I’ll buy you all the prawns and blue cheese you want.” “And champagne.” “And champagne.” he smiled.

Her soft chuckle hit his ears “I’ll let you go, sounds busy.”

“We’re just by the pool.” he said, “Background music isn’t quite as relaxing as I thought.” “That’s because you’re getting old Sailor.” she teased “Only 2 off 40 now…” “Don’t remind me.” he groaned. “You know I found another grey this morning…”

“I wouldn’t sweat it. I told you, men get better with age.” she quipped cheekily and he snorted.

“Like a fine wine huh?”

“Something like that.”

He chuckled again “Ok, I’ll call later to talk to Mary. I love you.” “You too. Have fun.” “I’ll try.” he smiled, before he bid her goodbye again and hung up. As he turned round to head back he collided with something, or more specifically someone. The young, blonde, bikini-clad woman he’d bumped into stumbled back a few paces and automatically Frank reached out to steady her.

“Sorry, you ok?” he asked.

“Yeah, no harm done.” she spoke, her Australian accent was broad as she smiled up at him, brushing her hair back out of her face. “Lucky my glass was empty.”

Frank smiled and let go of her elbow, holding his hands out in front of him “I’ll watch where I’m going in future.” “I hope not…” she winked at him, and with that she headed off to the bar, casting a glance at him over her shoulder as she walked. Shaking his head he allowed himself a little smirk. He wouldn’t dream of ever cheating on Fliss, he didn’t even want to, but he’d be lying if he wasn’t a little flattered, and kind of pleased actually to see the old Adler charm was still there.

“Still got it Frankie.” he mumbled to himself, a little smugly as he headed back to the sun-loungers.

**** It had been a while since Frank had played Texas Hold’ em but he was pleased to report he hadn’t lost his touch. They’d been there about two hours and Frank had won a couple of games, but by the time the rake was taken from the pot it meant he’d only really made about a hundred bucks, still, it was better than nothing and he wasn’t really there to make a lot of money, just enjoy the evening. For that reason he, Simon and Greg had all agreed to stick to the $4 /$8 table whilst the others headed over to the higher limit tables as soon as places opened, agreeing they would find each other later.

The waitress came back with their drinks, all three had drunk enough beer all day plus on top of the ridiculous amount of Nachos and Wing’s they’d eaten at the sports bar in the Planet Hollywood mall, they were starting to bloat so had started on the shorts, JD and coke for Greg, Rum and coke for Simon whilst Frank preferred his straight, opting for a scotch on the rocks. It wasn’t brilliant quality, but it was free whilst they were playing…well, almost, as they all tipped the waitress $2 each a time, but that meant she bee lined for them the minute she spotted their glasses were empty. Easy drinking, they were hardly without one in their hand.

A few more games in and the man to Frank’s right stood up, thanking them all and tipped the dealer before he left and an older lady took his seat. She nodded to them and she was dealt in, placing her bets. After a couple of rounds it was clear to Frank she was a typical “ABC" player- raising and betting her strong hands, calling and checking her medium ones and checking and folding the weaker ones. She wasn’t trying to outplay or outthink or bluff, and was pretty much a rock. She never got out of line and never bet without a strong hand.

Greg tossed his bet in and the woman raised. Frank glanced down, he had a pocket pair of tens. Now, most times against a tight player such as the woman he would just fold because the worst she’d likely raise with is Ace-King, and most likely she had either a pocket pair herself of Aces, Kings or Queens. He knew the chance of getting a set of tens from the flop wasn’t great, but seeing as it was only a low level game Frank called too.

Everyone around the table folded, including the original bettor and the blinds which left the pair of them heads-up. The flop was a rainbow rag meaning there were no flush draw possibilities as the cards were all different suites, and there was no card higher than a nine either. Still, the old lady bets and Frank called, deciding to at least see what the turn held. On the turn the dealer revealed another ten, giving Frank three of a kind. Keeping his face straight, he quickly noted that there were no strong straight or flush draws on the board so given her previous way of playing he placed her now on either an Ace-Ace or King-King pair. So unless an ace or a king came on the river card, he had her beat.

Clearly figuring her big pair is still good, she bet. Frank pretended to hesitate a little, and he knew said “Hollywood” hesitation move wouldn’t fool anyone in a higher limit game, but the devil in him was well and truly out to play. He raised and thought as tight as the woman played she might fold here or at very most make a crying-call, but to his surprise she re-raised. His poker face almost slipped, out of surprise and amusement more than anything, but he managed to keep it straight and re-raised again. All eyes around the table were on them and the lady at that point called, still not having uttered a single word all play.

The dealer looked to Frank and he turned his cards over, displaying his 3 of a kind.

The old lady blinked, before she turned over her cards, revealing a pair of Kings. Simon and Greg both let out little chuckles as the dealer declared Frank the winner. He had just turned to the older lady to give her a polite ‘well played’ but it died in his throat as she was focused on the dealer, her face angry as she shot the man a furious look and spat.

"You bad luck, black cat mother fucker!"

Frank blinked, and looked over at Simon and Greg who were looking at one another, shocked expressions on their faces, and then she turned to Frank and snarled. “Shove your winnings up your ass.” before getting up and stomping away from the table.

The entire table just sat there, stunned. Frank had heard plenty of players swear and many others blame the dealer when they lost but he hadn’t in a million years expected such a reaction from the quiet, little old lady that had sat besides him all night. He blinked, and looked at Simon and Greg, before Simon burst out laughing and set the whole table off.

As they left a few games later, Frank, Simon and Greg gave the dealer a nice tip declaring that was the most entertainment they’d had in years. They headed to the bar they’d arranged to meet the others at, finding most of them there. Chad had won big bucks, so was in the process of buying a bottle of grey goose along with mixers for everyone when Frank felt someone touch his elbow.

“I thought it was you.” The blonde Australian girl from before smiled at him. She was dressed in a long black jumpsuit, her hair pulled back it took him moment to realise who she was. “Almost didn’t recognise you with your shirt on.” she winked. Frank laughed, “Don’t say it too loud, might be taken the wrong way.” She smiled back, shrugging “Well, I won’t tell if you don’t.”

Frank lowered his eyes as he leaned against the bar, before he looked back up “Not sure my fiancée would appreciate that.”

“Ah.” she said, raising an eyebrow “So, is this your stag, sorry, bachelor party then or…”

“Who says it’s a Batchelor party?” he teased.

“Why else would you be wearing that shirt?” she asked, looking at his light blue Hawaiian number

Frank chuckled, “No, it’s his.” he said, nodding to Jake who was stood to his left by Chad, Rob and Jeff the 4 of them talking to a group of girls he figured were with the one stood in front of him. Greg, Simon and Aaron were parked at table in the corner of the raised platform. Greg looked over at him and raised an eyebrow at him, questioningly. Frank rolled his eyes before his attention turned back to the woman in front of him.

“So you’re a long way from Oz .” he said, “What you here for?”

“Oh my sister, the dark haired one, she lives in San Francisco. It’s her 21st so here we are!”

“God to be 21 again.” Frank let out a groan

“Can’t have been that long ago surely…” she looked at him, batting her eyelids and he took a deep breath, smiling. Enough was enough now. He’d been polite, entertained the conversation but…no…he was baling.

“You’d be surprised.” he said, pushing himself up straight. “Enjoy your evening.”

“Brittany.” she offered, even though he hadn’t asked, smiling again.

“Brittany.” he nodded, “Nice talking to you.” “Yeah, you too…”

He didn’t offer his name, he merely gave her a polite smile and headed over to the table Greg and Simon were at.

“Who was that?” Greg asked.

“No idea really, all I know is her name is Brittany and I bumped into her, literally, round the pool before.”

“Damned…” Simon said, eyeing her up. She turned, glanced at their table again, looking at Frank before she was pulled away by one of the girls, as Jake and the rest of the boys made their way over to where Frank was sitting. “She’s giving you the eye Frank.”

“Not interested.” he shrugged, before narrowing his eyes at Simon “And neither should you be.”

“Nothing wrong with a bit of window shopping.” Simons shrugged.

Frank shook his head, snorting, before Chad placed the ice bucket down in the middle of them which contained the large bottle of vodka, as the Bar Tender followed with a bucket of mixers.

***** Thankfully no one punched a mirror that night. When he woke on Saturday morning, Frank’s head was a little woolley, he’d drunk a lot again and as he scanned his messages he snorted at the ones he had sent to Fliss at stupid AM declaring how much he loved her, and Mary and Bean… she’d responded with one when she woke up which was a snap of her in the mirror wearing a pair of denim shorts which she couldn’t fasten anymore as her bump was protruding from the front. It instantly had Frank groaning to himself, and pretty horny on the low so he’d called her whilst Greg was in the shower, just to hear her voice and inform her just exactly what the photo had done to him.

He steered clear of the alcohol during the day, instead opting for water to rehydrate knowing full well the night was going to be heavy. In the afternoon he and Greg headed for a wander up the strip, just for a walk and chance to get out of the hotel, the pair of them simply chatting away about everything and anything. He’d grown even closer to the man following the court-case with his mother, and he enjoyed his company. He loved Simon and Jake to bits but Greg was more like him. Enjoyed cutting loose and having a good time but was also happy (and not ashamed to admit it) to sit home with his family. As they walked back to the hotel via the Pandora shop so he could get Fliss a charm to add to her now half full bracelet it struck Frank just how much he himself had changed since meeting Fliss. He’d grown up, a hell of a lot, they both had in a way. And it was nice. He liked it.

Later that evening after they’d all met for food, they headed back to change. Once Frank and Greg were dressed in their suits, his accompanied by a white shirt and a blue tie, he told Greg he was under instructions to send Fliss a selfie of the pair of them. So they grabbed one, stood on the balcony and as they headed down to meet everyone he fired it off to her whilst Greg also took the time to check in at home.

“I picked well…” came the text reply.

“Yeah the suit is good…” “Wasn’t talking about the suit, Sailor ;-)”

Frank chuckled “Well you have good taste.” he typed back. “I know. Steeby says hi by the way.”

“Tell him hi back and we’ll go for beers at some point whilst he’s over.”

“He’s looking forward to it.” she replied. “Have a good time baby, we love you.”

We. He fucking loved that. Her, Mary, Bean…

“Love you all too xx “ he smiled, and with that he shoved his phone in his pocket as the elevator doors opened and they walked out into casino.

The Club was something else. He’d seen from the photos on the website that it was opulently decorated and posh and very upmarket, but still he hadn’t been prepared for it. It was adorned with dark leather furniture, mahogany tables, crystal chandeliers and matching light fittings. Yeah, this was way out of his normal comfort zone.

“Bit different to Fergs…” Simon muttered as they were led to the private table which was on the terrace.

“Just a bit…” Frank snorted

“Let’s pretend we belong here for one night.” Greg said, his arms reaching up around both their shoulders from where he stood.

“Ok, erm, who do you wanna be then?” Simon asked “Digby Yates the self-made car salesman come billionaire, Niles Orson the millionaire lawyer, or Aldrich Whitaker the trust fund jack-ass?”

“Where the fuck do you come up with this shit?” Greg looked at Simon as Frank snorted.

“I dunno…” Simon said, “Just humour me, pick.”

“Trust fund jack ass sounds fun.” Frank nodded.

“Yeah, I’m a lawyer every day, granted not a millionaire, but still. I’ll take the car salesman.” Greg nodded.

“I’ll take Niles then.” Simon smirked as the three of them all laughed.

They settled at the table and their personal waitress came over, Frank didn’t miss the eyes she was giving Aaron as she explained their drinks package options. They opted for the middle of the road spirits and mixers and they settled into a comfortable chat for a few hours until the club started to get busy.

Frank by this point was already feeling a little light headed. Simon and Greg weren’t faring much better. Jake, however, was suspiciously with it and hyper, leaving Frank to conclude that he’d also shoved a certain amount of substance up his nose as well as down his throat. That was something he’d never get. Sure he’d done a bit of weed as a kid but the whole other harder drugs had never appealed to him. Still, it was his Batchelor Party, his funeral so to speak.

Simon saw Frank watching it and looked at Jake “He been snorting?” he asked, passing Frank a shot of tequila.

“Looks like it.” Frank said, before he clinked his glass against Simons, before doing the salt, shot and biting the lemon, grimacing.

“Dumbass…” Simon winced, shaking his head as he poured them another shot from the bottle.

“Man, you’re as bad as Bonnie for this shit.” Frank moaned as Simon slid the full glass towards him.

“I know about that, you know…” Simon looked at him.

“Know what?” Frank asked, although he had a feeling he knew what was coming.

“Bout you and Bonnie…”

Yup, there it was. Frank grimaced and let out a groan.

“Shit…look, pal, it was way…”

Simon wrinkled his nose “yeah, I know…it’s fine…to be fair, if I tried to steer clear of any girl you’d slept with there’d probably be no one left in south Pass.

“Fuck you.” Frank shot back, as Simon snorted.

“What? It’s true!” Simon grinned “You were quite the ladies man.” “Yeah, well, not anymore” Frank shrugged simply.

Simon clapped him on the shoulder and nudged the shot glass towards him. “Drink that then let’s go investigate the dance floor…”

Frank wanted nothing less than to go on the dancefloor, but Simon insisted. Standing up, the alcohol suddenly rushed to his head and he swayed a little bit, sniggering as Simon did the same.

“No. More. Tequila.” Frank pointed at the man, Simon grinned.

They headed onto the busy dance floor, pushing through to where Jake and Rob were, not far from Chad and Aaron who were busy grinding up against a couple of girls. They looked familiar, and it took Frank a moment to realise they were the ones from the bar the previous night.

Then he felt a tap on his elbow and he turned to see Brittany smiling at him.

“Fancy seeing you here…” she grinned.

“Yeah, total coincidence…” Frank arched an eyebrow, leaning down so she could hear him, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at Aaron and Chad “Don’t suppose those 2 losers had anything to do with it?”

“They might have mentioned they’d be in here.” Brittany shrugged “Cassie’s sweet on the blonde. Is he single?”

“I think so.” Frank shrugged “I don’t know him that well but he’s never mentioned a girl.”

“Doesn’t mean he aint got one.” she shrugged.

“True.” Frank conceded.

She gave him another smile and he watched her go, before he turned back to Greg and Simon who were now both doing some really odd kind of dance move to which Frank couldn’t decide if he wanted to laugh or cry…so he did neither and joined in.

The music and drink kept on going, and sometime later, Frank had no idea when or how, but they were back around the table, the girls having been invited to join them. They drank more, and then they were all being dragged back to the dance floor by Brittany and her friends, and then they ended up at the bar, for some reason, despite having table service, ordering some kind of rum cocktail.

He was talking to Brittany about her job, having discovered she was a Vet, telling her Mary would love to hear all about it. The girls hand was resting on his shoulder as she leaned up, and he leaned down so he could hear her and as she continued with a tale about an angry terrier, someone barged into Frank from behind and he pushed into her, accidentally. Automatically he reached out to stop Brittany from falling backwards as she stumbled a little on her heels.

“That’s the second time you’ve nearly knocked me over.” she looked at him.

“Second time I’ve caught you as well…” he said, suddenly aware his arm was round her back. He let go and went to move away, but he froze as her hands slid up his chest and around his neck.

“Woah…no…” he shook his head as he felt her arms attempting to tug him down wards.

“What?” she asked as he reached round and gently prised her hands away, stepping back and shaking his head.

“Look, I’m flattered but I’m really not interested.” he sighed “I love my girl” he shrugged simply.

“Your loss…” Brittany stepped back, and looked him up and down. “Although actually I think it’s probably mine…”

Frank blinked and watched her go, before there was a harsh clap in between his shoulder blades.

“What the fuck was that?” Greg asked, his voice thick.

“Nothing.” Frank shook his head, raising his eyebrows as he turned to look at Greg. Well, one of them. He was seeing two now. Fuck he was wrecked.

“She…she wassall over you” Greg slurred

Frank groaned, blinking. “I’m too old for this shit. And I need another drink.”

Greg pointed at him, swaying a little, nodding in appreciation “That is the best idea you ever had Adler. Let’s go back to the table.”

**** Frank woke the next morning, face down with a mouthful of pillow.

Groaning to himself he rolled onto his back and stayed still for a moment trying to stop the room spinning. Jesus fucking Christ he had drunk enough last night to sink a battle ship. His head was pounding, his mouth felt like it was full of sand and he felt like death.

Maybe he was dead. It would probably less painful.

He lay his arm over his eyes, grimacing as furiously tried to recall what the fuck had happened last night. He could remember that they’d stayed in the club till the early hours he knew that, but the last memory he had was him being on the dancefloor, then sitting down at their table with Greg and Simon. And then they’d been joined by the rest of the gang…and some girls…

Fuck.

Brittany, the Australian one…he remembered her trying to kiss him, and he’d told her no, but now he could recall clearly her and her friends joining them at the table…and she’d perched on his knee.

Adler, you dick head.

She’d had her arm draped around his neck, but then she’d gotten up and left again. And he’d stayed at the table with his friends. He was sure he had.

And now he needed to pee. He lay there, his brain trying to kick start his body into getting up to go to the toilet and he suddenly became aware that he was naked. Which didn’t surprise him in the slightest, when drunk he tended to just kick his clothes off and pass out. Wasn’t like he had anything Greg hadn’t seen before.

He cracked open an eye and then frowned. He was in the wrong bed. He’d taken the one nearest the balcony because Greg preferred to be away from the window. As his eyes focussed a little more, he noticed the door to the bathroom was also in a different place. It was like the room was identical but the opposite way round. Almost like he was on the opposite side of the hotel…

Shit. This wasn’t his room.

And then, just as that began to sink in he felt a movement in the bed besides him.

No, no…this wasn’t happening.

He sat bolt upright and turned to his left, his mouth falling open in a combination of shock and horror as he realised that for the first time in 18 months he had woken next to someone that wasn't Fliss.

#riding on #frank adler #frank adler x ofc #gifted #gifted fan fic

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