#Anyways I will now go back to disappearing for the next week as my portfolio kills me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nincompoopydoo · 4 years ago

Text

PAIRING, BAGELS, REPEAT

— US AGAINST THE WORLD ; PART 4 / ?

( credits to @animusrox for this gif )

PAIRING: Bruce Wayne x reader

WORD COUNT: 2247 hot diggy dog

SUMMARY: You have a heart-to-heart conversation with one of your students before the play and you're hit with the realization that your love for Bruce may be more than meets the eye. hence, you’re starting to wonder if it was a mistake you can never fix.

A/N: This one’s long and kinda depressing. I’m in an angsty mood now whoops. Nevertheless, thank you for reading this series, the bagels will make its appearance and enjoy this one folks.

WARNINGS: Anxiety, depressing thoughts.

MASTERLIST ; MASTERPOST

The night of the show arrived quicker than you anticipated. The flurry of theatre kids rushing about backstage is quite the sight, feeling the incredible sense of pride of a mother for her children. Yet in prayer, you ask Mrs. Wilson for the gift of strength and ability to manage a bunch of highly-strung teenagers. It’s only Shakespeare after all but you knew that wasn’t the genuine nature behind their stage jitters. With all tickets sold out within a week, it has easily become the biggest event of the year aside from homecoming. It may be a little pretentious for a high school production of an over-performed Shakspeare play to emerge as the highlight of the year, but you know it will help with some of the students’ portfolios for acting school.

The clock ticks—thirty minutes before showtime and panic starts to creep.

Your fingertips dance along the selvage of the extensive drapery of the stage as lighting queues are being run through for the last time. The urge of curiosity lets you crack open the curtain as you peeked at the rest of the theatre. The bustling crowd made up of mostly teenagers with seats rapidly being filled, it’s certainly a sight for sore eyes. Amongst the settling audience, you spot Bruce, seated between Mr. Walken, the principal, and Mr. Huckleberry, the vice-principal, likely being shamelessly asked for donations. He looks engaged, but his posture and the gaze of his eyes tell a very different story—Bruce is barely listening to a word they’re saying.

He then turns in the direction of your hiding spot and despite the distance, he catches your eye, immediately recognizing it’s you spying from behind the curtains. You watch the curve of his lips turn up into more of a smirk, swiftly sending a wink your way. You instantly disappear behind the curtains, cheeks burning.

You sometimes find it hard to believe you’re sleeping with the man with no strings attached because you’re incredibly attracted to him.

Someday, you’ll burst out into an exaggerated love confession, and you know it’s going to be ugly. It’s a reality check and right now, it’s the last thing you want. Running away from your problems is more of a habit than a choice as you would rather live in the world your mind has created, where miracles are made and defects cease to exist. Anyone would trade the cruelties of reality for a perfect one yet getting too caught up in a daydream will eventually evolve into toxicity. Bruce orbits the very core of your problems and daydreams. You want to run away from him and allow yourself to be engulfed by his presence at the same time.

You just need...to breathe. Hence, the second dressing room has a weird stench to it. It’s a mess but it’s empty. Yet, it seems you aren’t the only one in need of space, away from everyone else. Shaniqua is seated at the far corner of the room on a crooked metal chair, dressed in a somewhat modernized version of an Elizabethan era dress. Very elaborate and theatrical. Despite her introverted character, she was constantly bright-eyed and keen during your classes. She had a drive like no other. Hell, she miraculously memorized all her lines in two days.

You’ve never seen a furrow of the girl’s brows, until now, and it worries you. Even her glitter-covered eyes could not conceal the dismay they portray with prominence. Gingerly, you made your way to her as she stared at her fidgeting hands. It was only when you settled on the opposite dusty old chair when she finally noticed your presence.

“Stage fright, huh?” you casually asked, resting your arm on the dressing table. She mirrors your posture, heaving a deep sigh, and shakes her head. “No, it’s just,” A pause, her gaze finds yours. You nod, flashing her a smile. It’s a simple gesture that you’re here to listen. “It’s about Oscar...” You catch a hint of a smile as she trailed off and in an instant, your brow raises with curiosity. Oh? Another beat of silence, her eyes dart around the room. You sit quietly with patience because you knew she had more to say.

“It’s just that doing this play has got me thinking a lot about my feelings. I mean, if Romeo and Juliet could be lovers, despite their feuding families, then it must be easy enough for me to admit that I like Oscar.”

“You have a point.” You chuckle, eyes crinkling with amusement. Sometimes she thinks too much for her own good. She reminds you of Bruce. Shaniqua flashes you a faint smile, lips pressed with doubt. “But why am I finding it so hard to just tell him that?”

You stayed silent for a moment or two, mind deep in thought. The chair creaks as you shift in your seat. “Well, could it be that you aren’t sure if he likes you back?”

A hum in response, shrugging coyly as she mumbled a ‘maybe’. Although it was clear as day to you that Oscar liked her back, you wondered if her doubts emerged due to their differences in character. The familiarity of the situation is beginning to feel a lot like deja vu.

“How do you know that someone is the one?” Her sudden question catches you off guard because, in all honesty, you aren’t confident if you knew the answer. A straightforward question, commonly seen in the pages of teenage magazines, written for innocent eyes. You knew its true nature and it terrifies you. The image of Bruce charges through your thoughts like rushing water, memories of times when the two of you were younger clouding your mind. You forcefully push back your university days, buried back deep into your conscience.

“I don’t exactly know the answer to that but in my opinion, it’s—it’s the feeling of completeness when you love them and know they love you. They may be different from you, but it doesn’t make you love them any less. There’s no conflict or strife; it’s just the two of you against the world.”

Those words were raw and genuine, carefully crafted directly from the heart. You weren’t surprised by your words because you’ve thought about it a lot, especially on nights you slept on Bruce’s bed. Maybe, you do love him, and that's a huge ass problem. It’s amazing how unexpected situations tend to encourage apprehension on large issues you never knew existed in the first place. Perhaps it was your astonishing lack of discernment when it came to matters that could potentially alter your life.

Tonight, a sixteen-year-old girl did just that.

Amid your growing anxiety, you manage to catch sight of the wall clock, hung on the other side of the room. It’s now eight minutes until showtime. Your eyes are now wide as you sprung up from your seat in the sudden realization that everyone should be at their respective positions two minutes ago. “Oh God, we’re running late. Shaniqua, word of advice—don’t end up regretting something you didn’t do,” You shoot her a pointed look, index finger stretching towards her. “Now, you really need to go, or we’ll have to delay and you know Mr. Walken hates waiting.”

It’s a quarter to nine, and the theatre is empty. Outside, the foyer and the hallways are buzzing with the remaining audience, lingering and sharing inane conversations as others wait for a car to take them home. You had only just finished rearranging the costumes in the wardrobe of the dressing room. You tried to sweep the scatter of glitter all over the floor but it deemed a task as impossible; you’ll deal with it next week.

You’re sitting in the seat at the front row, nearest to the aisle with a large box filled with props on your lap. Alone in transcendental silence, feeling as empty as the theatre itself. It was partly the conversation you had with Shaniqua that hit you with the reminder of all the mistakes you made that have led you to this unchanging world of a blur that takes the blame for the wretched feeling in your chest. Yet, as the show progressed, hearing the words of affection from two lovers had sent your mind reeling. You were desperate to head home, crawl into bed and potentially cry yourself to sleep but the growing anxiety forbids it, you don’t even think you could drive home.

So, you stillness of the theatre reminds you of Edward Hopper’s painting, Solitary Figure in a Theater. With eyes shut, you pretend you are the figure in the painting, sheathed in black, sitting alone in the cavernous dark.

You hear the door of the theatre squeak, swinging open followed by the shuffling of feet. You don’t look at first, too tired anyway. You’d assume someone had either forgotten something or it was the janitor that you’re sure is going to be upset over the glitter massacre in the dressing room. It looked like a crime scene, except it was the murder of a literal unicorn. You made a mental note to send an apology sandwich of some sorts next week.

It was the familiarity in the whiff of cologne that made you snap your eyes wide open, looking over your shoulder to meet with the sight of Bruce, ambling down the aisle towards you. He smiles, and you mirror him, shifting in your seat and nearly toppling the box to the ground. “What are you still doing here?” He smiles, and you mirror him, shifting in your seat and nearly toppling the box to the ground. “I could ask you the same question.” He settles in the seat next to you, elbow brushing against yours. Your head tilts, gesturing to the box. Bruce merely hums and nods thoughtfully.

“So, how was the play? Does it get a Wayne seal of approval?” There’s a hint of teasing in the curve of your lips as his eyes drift to the stage. “I liked it. The kids have talent.” Your eyes glint with amusement, your smile growing wider. “I never knew you were a fan of romance.” His laugh comes out more like a huff of air, crinkled eyes meeting yours, and nudges you lightly. “Well, now you know.”

He recognizes the way your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes and the way you’re fussing with the edges of the box on your lap. Something is bothering you and he knows it. He nudges you once more. “Penny for your thoughts?”

You blink once. Then twice, face wincing instinctively. You keep forgetting how well Bruce can read people, especially you. You exhale slowly as he watches you struggle to pick the right words.

“It’s really nothing. It’s just-” you say after a long minute, cutting yourself short. Then, you turn to Bruce. “I’m growing older, and I’ve spent my entire life in a fog with so much fear for reality, I’m afraid it’s too late to fix all my mistakes and regrets.” Your voice dwindles with every word that escaped your lips. You were young, naïve with the notion that time was extensive to make decisions without thinking it through. To know that you could never take back the things you did. Saturn’s rising, it’s a wake-up call now that you’re older and the fear that you would never change creeps onto you with every passing birthday.

Bruce defines the epitome of the sinking feeling in your chest whenever you lay in bed at night and let your mind reel about your existence. Yet, it isn’t as simple as you want it to be. The boy you met at university has grown into a far more complex and entangled mess of the grief of his parents, the responsibility he held over this city and the drive to just...keep moving on. For the longest time, it was him against the world, and a part of you wants to believe that it doesn’t have to be that way. That maybe, you could be enough for him.

He glanced away from you, trying to hide the despondency in his eyes. He holds back a sigh as he speaks, “Do you regret us doing this?” As vague as his question is, you know what he exactly means. He remembers the time the two of you used to exchange senseless conversations and laughter so vividly that it scares him. Juvenile friends, lacking the knowledge to know what love really was. Hence, the agreement—it was just two friends, messing around. Nothing could go wrong. Now, the hole has been dug in too deep, with no way of getting out.

“I don’t,” you reply and with just two simple words, his chest feels like fire. It was the way you had said it, with so much confidence and assurance, despite the intricacy of this relationship. For the first time in a long time, you were extremely sure about an answer. You could never regret Bruce. Never.

It’s almost hesitant in the way his hand finds yours, but it represents his care for you, even if you may not know it. The warmth of his hand feels like fire. Hell, your chest feels like it’s on fire, heart burning for the man beside you. “I’ll drive you home,” he whispers with a squeeze of your hand. You flash him a grateful smile as the two of you drift into a comfortable silence. Silence so eloquent that you don’t feel so empty anymore. No longer a solitary figure trapped in a painting but now two, hand in hand, against the world.

TAGLIST

@raineeace

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne #batman #batman x reader #justice league #batman imagine #bruce wayne imagine #pining bagels repeat

83 notes · View notes

nightspeckle · 4 years ago

Text

Jurdan Summer Au part 2

Description:

Cardan and Jude have been summering with each other since they were babies. They have spent every summer at the beach together but they have never been friends, until now.

Part 1

*****

Jude woke the next morning to the sounds of the ocean waves and seagulls squawking. The sun from the window was heating her already pink skin. She could hear her family from downstairs, they were what woke her up. Back home she would have been infuriated and yet at the beach house, she couldn’t care less.

When she looked over to Taryn’s bed it was already empty. Of course.

Downstairs Madoc and Vivi were eating breakfast in the kitchen. When Jude got closer she could hear them bickering again.

“Vivienne, how many times do I have to tell you to get a job?” Madoc was pushing his eggs around his plate in a menacing way.

Vivi just sighed “I have to work on my art portfolio if I have any chance of getting into the art school I want. I just don’t have enough time.”

Madoc went to open his mouth again and Jude decided to step in before it turned into the screaming match it had been for the past few weeks.

“Where’s Taryn?”

“Guess” Vivi supplied and Jude knew exactly where she was.

“Great,” Jude huffed while pouring herself a bowl of cereal.

When Jude sat down she saw Vivi was still in her PJs. “What are you doing today?”

Viv smiled apologetically at Jude, “I’m going to the studio in town to get started,”

Madoc cut Vivi a glance that reeked of disapproval before shifting his focus to Jude.

“Why don’t you come with me and Eldred, we’re going on a hike to dragonfly cove,” Madoc looked gleeful at the prospect of spending the day with his daughter.

Jude could think of a hundred things she would rather do than go hiking with two old dads.

Madoc could sense Jude's lack of desire and scrambled to entice her. “I’ll enforce a mandatory family dinner on Taryn tonight if you come,”

Jude knew that it wasn’t exactly very cool of her to want to force her sister to spend time with her. But it was only their second day at the beach and none of her work friends were out of school yet, so although it was selfish she didn't mind.

“Alright,” She mumbled. Madoc’s face turned giddy.

“Perfect we're leaving at 9:30, so hurry up,”

Jude looked at the clock on the stove to see it read 9:15 and just rolled her eyes before polishing off her cereal and heading up the stairs to go change. She just couldn’t wait for a hike with her dad and his old friend!

...

When Jude piled into the back of the jeep she didn’t expect to see another child who had been roped into this hike. Cardan had his head rested against the seat. He didn’t say anything as Jude climbed back into the seat.

When Madoc jumped into the passenger seat he cracked a smile at Cardan. “I see Eldred must have bribed you into joining too,”

“Bribed?” Eldred asked while he started up the jeep.

“I bribed Jude so she would come along, did you not?” Madoc asked.

“Of course not, I just made him,” Madoc looked at Eldred as if he was a genius. Jude just prayed Madoc wouldn’t get any ideas about forcing her into family bonding. That would not go over well.

The top of the jeep was off and Jude's ponytailed hair started to flutter around her. She had almost forgotten Cardan was there while she watched the world around her pass by.

“What did he bribe you with?” When Jude turned back to Cardan she could see a gleam of curiosity in his eyes. He had put an arm around the back of the seats and tilted to face her more.

Jude was immediately embarrassed as she had agreed to Madocs terms. She didn’t want anyone else knowing how she was using her dad to make her sister spend time with her.

When it was clear Jude was not going to spill Madoc piped up from the front. “I promised to make Taryn come home for dinner tonight,”

Jude slumped back into her seat with a sigh feeling defeated. She expected Cardan to comment on how pathetic that was but when she looked over at him he was smirking.

“I should probably thank you for that,” Cardan said playfully.

“It’s what friends do,” Jude jokes.

The smile Cardan sent her way was nothing like she had ever seen from him. He was looking at her like they truly were friends, like being able to smile together was normal.

Jude was starting to wonder why she had spent her childhood constantly writing him off. She had never liked how he disregarded her when they were younger. She had always felt that he thought that Jude and Taryn were beneath him.

But the way he was acting now made her question everything in the past. Maybe she was wrong about him.

Jude spent the rest of the drive to dragonfly cove with her fingers dangling out of the jeep. She spent her time getting distracted by the passing green trees and the feeling of the summer sun. The only thing that kept drawing her attention back to the car was the constant terrible sound of her father's and Eldred's voices singing along to their summer reggae playlist.

She couldn’t help herself but make eye contact with Cardan when both of their fathers voices cracked. Cardan laughed then, the sound filling Jude with a certain lightness. She couldn’t help but laugh herself.

Jude was having a much better time on her Dad's usually boring adventures. When Jude looked over at the black haired boy next to her she knew he played a larger role in it than she wanted to admit.

This was not good.

...

Dragonfly Cove was not a particularly popular place to hike. The reason for that being that there was one trail. It went from the parking lot down to the beach 50 feet below. The path to the cove event consisted of a set of wooden stairs with rails on both sides.

If you were to ask anyone outside of the Greenbriar and Duarte families they would say that Dragonfly Cove is not a place to hike. Instead, they would refer to it as a small beach that required a short walk to reach.

If you asked Madoc and Eldred they would tell you that Dragonfly Cove was the best place to hike out of anywhere in the area.

If you asked their children they would tell you that hiking at Dragonfly Cove was toeing death itself.

If after taking the path and stairs down to the beach, one were to travel to the end of the beach and climb over a massive rock they would be able to see the “hike” that Madoc and Eldred had taken their children on years prior.

The “hike” consisted of climbing up an extremely steep slope made of unstable rocks and ledges. There had been many close calls of falling in the past. Orianna had even forbidden Madoc to try and reach the top of the cliff ever again.

Now standing at the bottom of the cliff Jude was thinking that Madoc should listen to Orianna much more. She was certain looking up at the incline that she would face certain death.

Eldred and Madoc had already taken off. Surprisingly for their age, they seemed to have no problem scaling an unstable cliff.

“Afraid Jude?” The smug voice to her left startled her.

When she turned to look at Cardan she saw the amusement in his eyes.

“It seems even the fearless Jude herself is afraid,” He looked to be enjoying the way Jude was squirming at the idea of climbing up the cliff.

She kept having flashbacks to the time a rock had given way under Taryn's feet. Jude had had to lunge to grab her sister's arm before she could tumble all the way down.

“No need to worry Duarte, I’m sure we will be back down soon if you want to wait,” Cardan said with mock reassurance. Jude could tell by the look in his eyes that he was enjoying taunting her.

Cardan took off towards the rocky slope without looking back. Jude’s hesitance at hiking the steep slope disappeared the second Cardan had alluded to her inability to do so. Jude Duarte was not one to ever be bested. She would show him.

Jude spent the first half of the “hike” solely paying attention to her feet. She refused to make a misstep or stumble.

She could see how effortlessly Cardan was making his way up the incline above, she would not do worse than him.

By the second half Jude had mastered the art of scaling a steep incline. She was doing so well that she even passed a delighted Madoc and enthusiastic Eldred.

Jude's mood improved even more when she looked back to see Cardan a good distance behind her.

She couldn’t help herself when her foot slipped the tiniest bit. “Are you alright down there Cardan?”

Her smile grew when he sent her an annoyed look. “I’m sure your Dad would help you up the rest of the way if you want to wait,”

“I’m quite fine Duarte,”

Cardan had gotten closer to catching up to Jude as they continued but she didn’t mind. She had still made it up there first, which was all she cared about anyways.

The two of them stood at the top of the cliff looking out at the ocean quietly for a few minutes. They didn’t say anything to each other until they heard the telltale signs of their fathers down below.

They both looked down to see Madoc and Eldred huffing for air and stumbling on the rocky terrain. It was amusing to watch their overconfident fathers falter on the hike they claimed toddlers could do.

Jude watched Eldred slip on a rock and immediately looked to Cardan. When they made eye contact they couldn't help but burst out with laughter.

After waiting for Madoc and Eldred to catch their breath at the top they headed back down. Jude found the descent to be extremely easy in comparison and managed to beat everyone down to the bottom. Cardan was in her heels the whole time but that was a fact she would choose to omit if anyone asked.

Cardan continued to tease her (mainly about how she had walked into a pool of water without realizing) as they made their way back to the car. She had used to believe his teasing to be annoying and insufferable and now she couldn’t help but smile every time he had a snarky comment.

Jude was on the verge of pinching herself every ten minutes. She couldn't believe she was actually enjoying herself.

Madoc and Eldred decided it would be fun to go on an hour long drive by the coast. Something which Judge was surprisingly happy about.

They stopped on the way back at a farmers stand selling fresh fruit. Jude bought blueberries for Viv and a few peaches for herself and Taryn. Oak was in an anti-fruit faze at the moment. The discovery that tomatoes and olives were fruits sent him for a real loop.

Jude couldn’t help but laugh when Cardan’s peach was dripping all over his face and onto his shirt.

Jude’s own peach dripped all over her when she took a bite. The taste was worth the stickiness. It was even worth Cardan's growing amusement.

When they got closer and closer to the house Jude felt something strange deep within. It was a very small sliver of disappointment. One she was not happy to find. Was she disappointed she was going home? Or was it that her time hanging out with her dad, Eldred, and mainly Cardan was coming to an end?

Whatever the reason, she decided that ignoring it was the best course of action.

When they pulled into the driveway she got out slowly. Now that she was done with her bribed time with her father what would she do? Taryn was probably still not home, Vivi was busy, and none of her local work friends were out of school.

Whatever it was that she would do, she knew that it wouldn’t be as fun as this morning, that was something extremely surprising to her.

....

Jude ended up doing some summer reading outside on the porch for a bit. When Oak came home from wherever he had disappeared off to with Orianna she supervised him at the beach.

She actually did enjoy herself but it wasn’t until dinner that she was truly having fun again. The families were eating together outside again.

She ended up sitting next to Cardan and Viv who had come home 30 minutes before. Jude had a few moments where she caught herself smiling for no reason and laughing because of the dumbest things.

Dinners usually lasted for a few hours with the families in the summers. The parents would stay talking for longer than they would anywhere else. Jude who usually snuck out after 30 minutes to do something else ended up staying for a couple of hours. It wasn’t until Viv declared she was heading back that Jude did too.

“You look happier than you did yesterday,” Viv commented when they got back to their house.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jude said amused.

“You’re smiling more you weirdo,”

Jude had been smiling more than the day before. When she looked back on the day it had mainly been because of Cardan. But there was no way that he was the reason for her smiles. Maybe it was just because he was funny.

Was Cardan funny? Jude wasn’t so sure about that.

“Oh, whatever Viv,”

Vivian and Jude broke into the moose tracks ice cream and watched a movie before going to bed. When Jude crawled into her bed it was only 11:15 but she didn’t mind.

It was only when she was about to go to sleep that she noticed Taryn’s bed was empty. Not only was she not there but Jude realized she hadn’t even shown up to dinner.

The funny thing was that Jude didn’t even care.

~~~

tags (or my one LOL) :

@big-daddy-maddy

66 notes · View notes

writingsfromhome · 4 years ago

Text

Bad Timing IV

A/N: To all the soft hearted crybabies requesting it: here’s part 4 to dry your tears from part 3. Thanks for all the interaction with this series, you guys are the best! <3<3<3<3

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

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

I take my coffee to the little patio in the backyard of my childhood home, breathing deeply. It was a couple weeks since the traumatic incident at the bank, the one where I nearly died and found a way to live again. The higher ups practically begged me to take paid leave, I had a feeling they just didn’t want me to take anything to court. I’d told them I would take the month, and knew I would hand in my resignation thereafter. I enjoyed my job as much as the next person but it was too much for me. It felt like closing a door on a chapter of my life that I wanted to move on from.

And now, I could truly relax, I wasn’t running away from anything for the first time in my life. After everything that happened in that small restroom at the back of the bank, Harry and I came to a peace. And I’d only moved on from there.

“You’re up early,” my dad comes into view, a cup of tea in hand. “Your flight doesn’t leave until tonight right?”

“Yeah, just thought I would appreciate the views before I go back to a city,” I move my feet off the chair so he could sit.

“You can come here anytime.”

“I know,” I wrap my hands around my mug. “Coming here it just...reminds me of mum. And it’s hard...”

“This is how I stay connected to her,” he pats the table between us. “She loved this place, her garden and those darn birds she fed all the time.”

“You feed them now,” I look to the birdfeeder filled lovingly to the brim with seeds.

“I do it because...” he says quietly. “It’s what she would want.”

I think about my mum, what she would want. It hurt when I thought about how she left me, married and happy in love. And then how much hurt I went through, always wishing she was there. In some way I know she knew--wherever she was. But I wish I could hear her, I wish I could have a love like she had.

“So, when do I get to meet this new boy of yours?” My dad asks.

“Dad, you know his name’s Alec.”

“I would if I met him, put a face to the name.”

I roll my eyes, my dad was a bit overprotective after everything that’s happened in my life. I think he felt guilty in a small way, him and Harry always got on--we teased them about their bromance. He was just as blindsided as me. But I’d told my dad everything that happened the first night I came over. He hadn’t judged, just listened, hugged me tightly, and left to make me a cup of tea. That was the most expressive my dad got.

After Alec took me back from from the hospital, I asked him to stay. And he had stayed since, making it official from casual to dating. It was scary but life was too short to hold back I had learned. I had to hold onto a good thing when I had one.

As for Harry, he hadn’t called me since that day he visited me. I’d left him a couple texts--when I was discharged home, and again to ask him how he was doing a week later. He’d sent a thumbs up and that was it. I thought we were okay, but he blew me off even when I tried to call him. It hurt a little, but I’d been so busy packing and getting on, that I let him be for now. I would wait until after visiting my sister to find out where his head was at.

H’s POV

It’s been nearly a month since I walked out of Y/N’s hospital room, and we’d just about tied all the lose ends from the case. The only thing about it all that lingered on my mind was Y/N. I missed her more than I had all these years apart, but I sat in the ache of wanting. It was time I catch up to the consequences of my past actions. I turned to writing, starting again after years of thinking I no longer had a passion for it. It felt freeing.

She’d texted me, called me too. I tried not to respond even though everything in me wanted to pick up the phone and ask her out to dinner, invite her over for a movie, ask her if she wanted to take my car and drive out somewhere like we used to after exams in uni. But I let her be, imagining that she was happy somewhere. With Alec, or whoever she wanted to be with.

The last thing I expect, is for her to be standing outside my station late Thursday night.

“Y/N?” I almost don’t recognise her. Gone was her stern bun and smart suit. Strands of her hair frame her face, like a piece of art on display. She has on a loose jumper and tights, a bum bag strapped across her chest that she roots through for something.

“Harry!” she drops her hands. “I’ve only been waiting here for...20 minutes, when your receptionist said your shift ended?”

“I had to finish up some paperwork. Why didn’t you call me?.”

“It’s not like you would’ve answered.” her hands on her hips, attitude dripping from every inch of her. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“You look different,” I dodge the topic.

“I know,” she zips up her bag. “I had the month off, officially resigned today. I have absolutely nowhere to be. So I’m looking the part.”

“It looks good,” I say truthfully. She looked relaxed, like the Y/N I used to know. “You quit your job?”

“I had enough of that bank,” she shrugs. “I went to see my dad for a bit, and visited my sister. She’s doing well.”

“Ah,” I was glad she’d taken a break. She was glowing. “Seriously Y/N, you look really good.”

“You,” she points her finger at me. “Are not allowed to say things like that after ghosting me. I thought we...came to an understanding. You left me again.”

I open my mouth to say something, but her words hit me. She was right, I’d left her again. Fuck.

“Yeah,” she crosses her arms when I go speechless. “You admitted to your mistakes, apologized, and then left me. How do you think that’s made me feel?”

“I thought it was best if I left you alone,” I walk out of the way from the entrance and she follows me to my car, parked in the lot. “I just wanted to give you space--a chance at being happy.”

She scoffs, leaning against the driver’s side door. “Thought it was best for who, Harry? Who are you to define my happiness? It would’ve been nice just to hear you were doing okay!”

“I’m sorry!” I stumble for another excuse but I come up with none. “The truth is, seeing you with Alec that day I...it was hard for me. I couldn’t be around you like that.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I...” I look at her, looking at me expectantly. She was a woman with an agenda, she had come here looking for answers and wasn’t going to leave until I gave them to her. “I want you to be happy, all that shite. You can’t do that with me around. And it’s hard for me seeing you with someone else...I can’t stand to be in your life like that. Where I’m just...your ex.”

“So you’re saying, it took me nearly dying for you to realize?” Her eyebrow quirks up.

“In a way,” I huff. “It just, took me being around you to remember what I left, when we ended things. It also made me realize the mess I left behind-”

“Don’t you dare feel sorry for yourself,” she calls me out like nobody else could. It makes me laugh nervously and she takes it the wrong way. “Don’t laugh, I’m serious! I’ve felt sorry enough for the both of us for years. And maybe Y/N from a month ago would’ve wanted you to suffer a little bit, but not anymore. This last month...I’ve just felt so free and happy Harry. I get what you mean now, I get it. And I’m alright.”

“That’s great, I’m happy for you Y/N.”

“Yeah, I mean I get it, but you did go about it in the worst possible way-”

“I know.”

“I’m not done,” she pushes my shoulder. “Anyway, just because you did some shitty stuff, you don’t deserve to suffer okay? Move on. Onward. Not backwards.”

I’m taken aback again when she pushes herself off my car and wraps her arms around my shoulders. I slowly envelop her into me, savoring the feel of holding her even if it’s just for a moment.

“You deserve happiness,” she says in my ear. “If that means ghosting me, I won’t fight it. You just...have to let me know.”

“That’s not called ghosting,” I say as she separates herself from me. I want to pull her back but I stuff my hands in my pockets.

“Potato potato,” she waves her hand. “I should go. Just...take care of yourself Harry.”

Y POV (1 year later):

“That’s wonderful news,” I smile at my client who gathers their materials back into their portfolio. “I’ll have my assistant forward the contract over tonight. I look forward to working with your team.”

I shake hands and watch them leave the room before collapsing into my chair. I knew starting your own business was hard, but this last year was a bumpy road. I’d started my own consultation business, and only had two clients. This was my first big-deal contract I’d signed; I was promised two whole years with this team!

I reach for my phone to tell Alec, but I remember we weren’t talking. Well, I wasn’t speaking to him--he’d told me last night before my big meeting that he’d been offered a promotion at work. But the catch was it was in the Edinburgh offices “which works out perfectly for us! Your sister lives there, we can visit them often...what do you think?”

I’d been so angry then. Firstly, he’d sprung the news on me the night before a big day, and second he’d already made the decision for us. I was so angry I’d just gone quiet, and told him I had a big meeting the next morning.

My fingers itch though, to tell someone. My fingers hover over Harry’s name.

Every since I confronted him last year at work, he disappeared again but not completely. He texted me a few times, once on my birthday, another during a heat wave in the city asking me if I wanted to grab drinks. I wasn’t available and he hadn’t really texted me since. I knew he was a phone call away, and he knew the same of me. Yet neither of us ever picked up the phone to call each other. I wasn’t sure why, but we were still giving each other space.

Well fuck it, I think. I call him and he picks up on the fourth ring.

“Y/N?”

“Hey, are you busy?”

“Uh no--hold up, wait. Not you...Sorry Y/N give me a second.”

I bite my lip, he could be at work, I should’ve texted him.

“Hey,” Harry’s tone is different now, softer and the background noises quiet to almost nothing. “Sorry it was so loud in there, we’re celebrating a birthday--Serena, the receptionist you remember?”

“Oh yeah,” I have a vague picture of her in my head. “Don’t let me keep you from the festivities-”

“Why did you call? S’no big deal, I’m not a big cake person anyway.”

“Ooh, cake? Eat a slice for me, I don’t get enough sweets living with a health nut...” I trail off realizing who I was talking to.

“I’ll save you one if you swing by?” Harry suggests after a beat of awkward silence. Another second passes as I consider what he’s asking: he wanted to see me.

“Uh, okay! You don’t have to ask me twice,” I grin, a strange bubble of excitement making it’s way through me. “My office is actually not too far from your station. I’ll walk it.”

“Your office? Where are you these days?” Harry asks as I slip my bag over my body and head out the door. I was exactly an 8 minute walk from his station--I’d mapped it when I found the place cheap online.

“I’m renting a whole office! It’s all very professional--I mean it’s like, one and a half rooms..oh and I have to share the toilets with the whole floor-”

“That’s good, so there’s no way you’ll be caught dead in there if you’re sharing it with the floor,” I hear the laugh in his voice.

“That’s a very insensitive thing to say,” I scold him.

“It’s been a year, c’mon Y/N.”

“We almost died!”

“We weren’t going to die. You’re alive right now!”

“Thanks to a really bad detective and a toilet seat,” I say and relish at the sound of Harry’s laugh on the other end of the line.

“That’s not how you thank someone who saved your life,” Harry finally says when he’s done laughing.

“You didn’t save my life, I was never going to die in the first place remember?”

“Touche,” he laughs. “Get over here faster, I want to see your face.”

“I’m trying!” I speed up. The background noise grows louder on his side again and he apologises. “S’alright. Anyway I just called cuz I had good news and nobody to share it with immediately.”

“Tell me.”

“Long story short, I started my own consulting firm! Finance advice--stuff like that, and I signed my first long-term contract! With an actual client not just for like, a project! I’m-” I squeal, I couldn’t help it. “It’s such a big deal for me I’ve been struggling just breaking ever since I started up.”

“Y/N I’m getting you the whole bloody cake for that,” Harry says. I finally turn the corner to his station, nearly jogging at this point.

“Only if Serena doesn’t mind.” I joke.

“In that dress, who would mind,” he says. I pause on the street, he could see me. I squint but he’s nowhere in sight. And then there, he steps out from the steps and waves. I don’t bother taming the smile on my face and neither does he.

“I see you Detective,” I shout.

“I saw you first!” He shouts.

In an instant we’re rushing towards each other, bodies crashing as I wrap my arms around his neck and squeeze hard. It felt like a reunion.

“How did we go this long without seeing each other,” I say when we pull apart. “I’ve actually missed you.” With the closure between us and no baggage weighing our memories down, I’d actually begun to feel nostalgic about Harry every time I thought about us--usually the friendship, not quite the marriage.

“I don’t know,” Harry pulls me close to him again. “I think we gave each other too much space this time around. We’ve got to find a better middleground.”

“I think we’re standing on it.” I joke.

“Hey, Styles!” A voice calls from the entrance. “Stop snogging your girl and come back in here. Serena’s wondering why you’re running away from her big day.”

“I’m not snogging anybody,” Harry calls back. “And I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Bring her with ya, we’ve got plenty of cake!”

Harry looks down at me and I raise an eyebrow. “You think they’ll let me have more than a slice?”

“I’m their commanding officer, I can tell them to let you have as many as you want.”

“Lead the way,” I grin, half excited to see Harry and half excited for the baked goods. Harry grabs my hand and leads me in. Unfortunately, enough people recognize me from the bank heist that Harry has to explain we’ve known each other for a while. Fortunately, enough people remember me to ply me with sweets to make up for Harry screwing up my case. I have zero complaints and celebrate the day with free cake.

H’s POV

My phone vibrates with Y/N’s text, she was here for lunch. Ever since she called me a couple weeks ago and we decided we couldn’t live without staying in contact, we tried to pop over for lunch whenever we could. It felt like old times. Being Y/N’s friend again was what I was missing out on. I was finally living the version of my life that felt right. I had a bounce in my step, I felt happy when I woke up. Even my officers teased me, trying to allude that I was getting some until I threatened them with paperwork. But I was brighter at work too.

I text Y/N that I would be a few minutes more, and when I finally go into the lobby to meet her she’s having a conversation with Serena.

“Man of the hour,” Serena says as I walk up. “Your girl’s here.”

“I can see that, thank you.” Serena insisted on calling Y/N that despite telling her multiple times we weren’t together.

“Serena was just telling me all the wild things she got up to for her sixty-fifth,” Y/N winks at Serena. I didn’t want to be part of that conversation so I drag her by the arm out of the station.

We walk in silence towards a small sandwich shop around the corner from us. I grab her swinging hand to catch her attention, and she gives me a small smile before turning away. But she keeps her hand in mine.

She’s unusually quiet, and I wait until after we’ve ordered to broach the subject. Before I could, she blurts out: “Alec's got to give his final answer today.” I nearly choke on my sandwich. She’s told me her predicament last week when I noticed she looked upset and wouldn’t let her be until she told me. I was gutted, but it didn’t seem like she wanted to go.

“I...that means, hm.” I gather my thoughts--and all my emotions too. “Have you decided if you’re...moving with him?”

“I dunno, this is an amazing job offer. I could be closer to my sister too but...I just don’t know. My life’s in London, my new practice too. How can I leave it all?”

“That’s tricky,” I say even though deep inside I was relieved it sounded like she wasn’t going. “Couldn’t you just move your practice there? Travel to London when you had meetings? You could always stay with me if you needed.”

She huffs, there was more she wanted to say but she keeps it in. I push her to open up. “It’s just, he sprang this on me a couple weeks ago and he just expected me to follow him. I love him, I do. But that’s asking a lot! It’s only been a year or so, and it’s nice to know he’s serious enough about me to want me to go with him. I just...”

“And we only just reconnected again,” I try to sound lighthearted but when she looks at me I can tell she knows I feel more than I’m letting on.

“Can you imagine?” She raises her eyebrow. “If I told him I’m staying because I just reconnected again with my ex...”

“Ex-husband makes us sound older than we are.”

“We are old,” she puts her sandwich down and sighs. “You wear orthopedic shoes Harry.”

“I won’t take offense to that,” I look down at my shoes. They were comfortable on the job. “So...I’m not factored into your decision at all? Whether you want to stay or not?”

I see the emotion in her eyes; she was conflicted. “I dunno,” she finally says.

“Don’t let me hold you back,” I say even though I wanted to beg her to stay. “You love him right? Maybe you should...”

She stares ahead, her face falling. I knew Y/N’s face before a cry, so I reach my hand out and clasp hers over the table. She squeezes my hand once before removing it, I felt like I did something wrong.

“Anyway,” her face brightens up again, though the look in her eyes stays. “I watched that new movie you recommended and it was awful...”

She changes the subject swiftly, and I don’t object. I didn’t know how to tell her to stay without being selfish, and I didn’t know how to tell her it was okay to go and act like I was telling her the truth.

But near the end of my shift, the evening receptionist buzzes me she was letting my girlfriend through. I don’t bother correcting her.

“Hey Y/N!” one of my officers calls out to her when she walks into the floor. “We’re all planning on throwing you a party.”

“For what?” She stops by his desk. I notice Detective Cole eyeing her, before joining in.

“He actually has a life now, he’s usually a lot more bossy with us.”

Y/N turns to me, eyebrow raised. “I’m afraid the party’s a little premature. But I’d never say no to cake.”

My heart sinks, she was going. I watch her walk towards me and she notices my expression, the smile is gone from her face by the time she reaches me.

“I told Alec I would try it out, 6 months. See how it goes...I can see my sister more often, help her out with my niece...” It sounds like she’s coming up with excuses to justify herself to me.

“That’s...” my words get stuck in my throat, the lie was too big to get out. “Your sister will love that.” I settle with. I take her hand and walk her out to a more private hallway. “When do you leave.”

“Two weeks,” she bites her lip. “I-I’m gonna miss you Harry. We just got into a flow and-”

“We’ll still talk.” I pull her in, I couldn’t bear to watch her face fall apart in front of me. And I didn’t want her to see my own face crumbling. I tuck her under my chin, “We’ve got phones, and you’ll be in London sometimes for work right? We won’t be like before, we’ll still talk.”

I know she can feel my heart racing, and I want her to know what she was doing to me because my mouth can’t seem to tell her. I hold her for a little longer, and when she goes, I know my unit won’t be throwing any parties for her in a while.

Three Months Later:

I’m in bum mode by 8pm that Friday. I’d had a long week, a tough case with no breaks and finally had an evening off so I changed into sweats the second I got home, taken a hot shower and washed the week off.

The knock on the door surprises me. The peephole doesn’t distinguish who’s outside, a hood covering their face. I decide to open the door, to find a teary Y/N hundreds of miles from home.

“Y/N-”

“I wanted you to tell me to stay.” she says to me immediately. Her tears continue dripping onto her cheeks. I stare in confusion, wondering for a moment if my lack of sleep had caused me to hallucinate her.

“Wha-”

“When I told you about the move...you told me I should go. I wanted you to tell me to stay Harry! I thought you would’ve told me to stay.”

I move aside silently, so we weren’t having a conversation where my neighbours could hear.

“How was I supposed to know that?”

“I don’t know!” she throws her bag, coat, and phone down on the floor in a heap. “You just were! I thought when I told you, you would say-”

“I didn’t want to tell you what to do with your life based on what I wanted! I thought I already established that!” Suddenly we’re arguing.

“You never had an issue before!”

“Well look where it lead us,” I move away from the door and back to where I was previously relaxing on the couch.

“A country apart!” She’s hot on my heels. “Didn’t you want me to stay?”

Some part of me is still completely confused what was going on, but Y/N’s fiery frustration overflows into my cup and an invisible force pours it down my throat.

“Yes. Yeah! Of course I wanted you to stay!”

“So why didn’t you say that?” She cries.

“I was trying not to be selfish!”

“Well you just pick the worst times to be selfish!”

“I never said I was good with my timing.” I mumble.

“Don’t treat me like-like some fragile porcelain Harry!” Y/N gets right into my face. “I’m not! I’m different, I’ve grown from that fragile place. I don’t need you walking on eggshells around me, I just want you to be honest!”

“When am I not honest?” I shout back.

“You haven’t been honest with me for months! Just say what you feel Harry, stop bloody holding back all the time! I just want the real you!”

“Fine!” I explode. “I love you Y/N! I love you so much it physically hurts me to be near you and not be able to hold you. I want to be able to kiss you like I used to, I want to go back in time and warn myself to get it right! I want to tell you how amazing you are and how sorry I am every day. I can’t! We’ve both got our own lives! I’m not being dishonest I just don’t want to fuck with your life again! I’ve accepted that I’m nothing more than an ex and your best friend!”

That stops her in her tracks. Her chest heaves as she swipes at her cheeks, and then she pushes her hands into my chest. I stumble but catch myself. She pushes me again, big tears rolling down her cheeks, and I stumble onto the couch. She turns and paces to the door and back.

“What are you even doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be in Edinburgh?” I finally ask the question I should’ve asked the second I saw her.

“Sure,” she throws herself onto the seat next to me and buries her face in her hands. “I...I didn’t want to be there. I just had to leave, and I couldn’t stand my sister going on about what a catch Alec was. How I should feel lucky. I had to get away. I never should’ve left London...I just thought maybe Alec was my chance at a fresh happy future, and you told me to go so I thought you didn’t want me to stay. But I fucked up there too, and I just had to go. And I came here with nowhere else--I can’t even live in my own home for three more months...”

She trails off. It was a lot of information to process. I don’t know how long we stay on the couch like that, a foot apart in silence.

“Everyone I know will probably think I’m just an idiot for coming here of all places, but this was the only place that made sense because I--Harry I think I...” She glances at me. “I...”

“I know,” I say after she struggles to say what she wanted to say. But I knew.

“But I feel so guilty, I’m doing to him what you did to me...it’s not fair.”

I didn’t think about it like that, I realise. But this situation was more complicated than that, I tell her. We had history, she’d moved to a whole new country for him, he must know somewhere Y/N didn’t actually want to move. But the parallels between her situation and ours are clear as day. I don’t know what to say.

“Stay the night,” I put a hand on her thigh. She doesn’t move it off. “Get some sleep, when you wake up tomorrow, make your decision. You know how I feel...and you know how you feel.”

“You’re right,” she lays her hand on top of mine. I thread my fingers through hers and hold on. Her puppy eyes tear me apart, I want to gather her in my arms and kiss her misery away. But I don’t want to add to her guilt.

“Let me get you something to eat, you’re probably hungry.” holding her hand was getting painful. I leave her alone in the living room, so she could collect herself. If someone told Harry three years ago this was where I would end up, he would’ve laughed in their face.

Y POV:

I couldn’t believe I did that, I think as I sit on the 5 hour ride back to Edinburgh. I felt untethered yesterday, after arguing with Alec all week because I was just miserable when I wasn’t in London. My sister’s pressure to be happy with what I had, I felt like I had no one to turn to who would understand me. And that had driven me into Harry’s arms, the train ride there fueling my frustration and anger. It had accidentally exploded in Harry’s direction when I got to his place but I was glad for it. He’d told me how he felt. And it was complicated as hell for me but somewhere deep inside, I knew where this was leading.

When I get back home to a worried Alec, we sit down and have a hard conversation. It breaks my heart leaving him, but after one last night together I pack most of my things and head to my sisters. The irony isn’t lost of me, hers was exactly where I went to when Harry and I split.

My sister tries to be supportive but I by the time the three months are over, I feel suffocated with her overprotective nature, and the full house she lived in.

“You’re just going to do what you want to do aren’t you?” She asks the day she drops me back off to the station. I’d spent the rest of the three months at hers--I couldn’t go back home to my house anyway and something about going back to London for another man felt wrong. I’d seen Alec a few times in those months. The last time was last night, we’d shared a few drinks and maybe some kisses. But it was a final goodbye last night, heavy but final.

“I don’t want to be a bad person,” I say. “I just don’t want to feel stuck somewhere because I feel bad.”

“You’re not a bad person,” my sister brushes my hair behind my shoulder as she hugs me tight. “I love you. Mum would be so proud of you for following your heart, you always did play it too safe.”

“I guess my rebellious phase just came a little late.”

“Ever since you met that Harry guy, you quit your stable job and haven’t been the same since,” she wags her finger at me like a stern maternal figure. She breaks character when she laughs and hugs me again. “M’gonna miss having you here. The kids loved having their aunt around.”

“I’m sure they’re happier having their play room back.” I joke to cover up how sad I felt leaving them too. Even though most days felt like we were walking all over each other, it felt like growing up in our small childhood home again; a nice reset before I headed back to London.

The train ride goes by quickly, and I settle back into my home over the weekend, getting my furniture out of storage and cleaning up after the last tenants. I’d been gone only 6 months but the second I walked through the door, I knew I was home again.

Letting Harry know I was back makes me nervous so I put it off for the week. I show up at his flat the following Saturday, wringing my hands as I wait for him to answer. I didn’t even know if he was home.

“Y/N,” a shocked voice says as I turn to walk away. Harry studies me as I stand awkwardly in his hall. “You’re back.”

I hear what he doesn’t say: you never called me after you showed up three months ago. and what happened to you?

“Hey,” I brush past him into his flat, fiddling with my jacket as he locks the door. “I’m back in London.”

“I can see that.” He eyes me. “Alone?” He asks, and again I hear the words he doesn’t say.

“Alone,” I smile. “I just needed...time to figure things out. I’ve been staying with my sister.”

“Full house?” He says, knowing it before I had to say it.

“So full,” I laugh, and just like that everything is okay. He takes my jacket from me and hangs it in his closet, like he knew I was going to stay a while. “There were too many mornings when I woke up to my niece just staring at me, waiting for me to wake.”

“Aw, they must miss you now.”

“Yeah,” I follow him through to his living room. I remember the last time I was here, sort of embarrassing looking back. “I was missing London though. And...you.”

He looks up. “Are you-”

“Harry,” I swallow what I need to say. His gaze is laser-sharp and it’s slightly intimidating to admit something like this. I’d given my heart to him before, and here I was giving it again after I’d spent years healing from what he did to it. It felt right, but also foolish. I guess love would always feel a little foolish.

“Y/N,” he says after I don’t say anything.

“So,” I walk up to where he stands near the window, the afternoon sun illuminates his handsome face. I reach up to touch it, no longer able to keep my hands to myself when he was so close. My breath catches as he closes his eyes against my palm, his lashes casting shadows on his cheeks.

“Y/N,” he keeps his eyes closed, like I would disappear if he opened them.

“I’m finally home,” I tell him, feeling the familiar lump in my throat as my eyes tear up. He opens his eyes then, they’re also pooling with unshed tears. It makes me laugh; he arches a brow. “We’re both here, in each other’s arms finally and...we’re crying.”

“We’re not a very typical pair, are we?”

“Nothing typical about us.” I say and he chuckles, kissing my wrist. My heart stutters in my chest.

“You’re either crazy or just incredibly forgiving, giving me a second chance at this.” Harry says outright.

“It’s us I’m giving a second chance to,” I slide my hands up, locking them around his neck.

“D’you think we’ll get the timing right this time?” He whispers as he lowers his face.

“We better,” I keep my eyes on his mouth, the one I’ve thought about kissing for the last three months. And then, finally, his lips are on mine and I nearly cry out of relief having him in my arms. Harry, being my Harry again.

His hands clench the fabric around my waist as he pulls me closer to him, his lips leave mine and he kisses my cheek, my jaw, my temple, before he crushes me to him.

“Harry I-” I couldn’t breathe, but my strained voice gives that away and he lets me go. I’m surprised to see the tears now trailing down his face. “You’re crying,” I swipe at the fallen tears.

“I’m just so happy,” he takes my hands off his cheeks and clasps them against his chest. “Y/N I’ve only dreamed of this, I didn’t think the universe cared enough about me to let me have this reality.”

“You and your poetry,” I smile.

“I guess you’re my muse,” He pulls me back to him, this time in a sweeter kiss that lingers. Tears pool in my own eyes as my heart tries to process the enormity of emotions I was feeling. “C’mere, I just want to hold you.”

He leads me to the couch and I lay down next to him. We take in each other, face to face, the grins reflected on both of us is impossible to wipe off.

“I love you Y/N, to the sun and back.”

“Isn’t it the moon and back?” I ask.

“Sun’s further out,” he smiles like he was expecting the question. I laugh, he kisses the tip of my nose and pulls my leg over his, his arm snaking around my waist so I’m snug against him.

“What am I gonna do with you Styles,” I brush one of his curls back.

“You’ve got forever to figure that out,” he says simply. My heart races at the thought. We’d bungled the first round we spent together, but after all these years apart I had a feeling that we really would have forever this time around.

With all the emotions fluttering inside of me, all the baggage unpacked and out of sight, and Harry’s loving expression looking back at me; I believed in us.

1.5 Years Later (H’s POV):

The house is quiet when I get in--it was half past 11 and I knew Y/N was probably asleep. I texted her a couple hours ago I would be home soon but time had slipped away as I worked. I hoped she wasn’t upset.

I move stealthily through the hall, eventually making my way to our bedroom where she lays sleeping. She’d left the lamp on beside her, and I move around to her side so I can close it. I notice the open book beside her--she fell asleep while reading it again. I set it down on the drawers and tuck her hand into the covers, the subtle diamonds on her finger glows yellow under the soft lamp light. Just looking at the engagement ring sparks a rush of love for the woman before me.

Y/N had surprised me a couple months ago when she proposed to me. We’d were dating again for almost a year and a half--this time it really felt like we’d gotten the timing right on our relationship. We were happier and more in love than we’d ever been. During a candlelit dinner one night, she had pulled a chair up beside me and presented me with the ring and an ultimatum.

Apparently she’d noticed that I was always on edge--like I was waiting for her to realize that she didn’t actually forgive me for all the awful things I put her through. And she was right, but it wasn’t until she said it out loud that I realized it was an anxiety I had. I was waiting for her to realize she could do better than me--leave me the way I left her. But she proposed to show me she wasn’t going anywhere, and she showed me her own ring her father gave her--her mum’s ring.

I was blown away by her observant love, again, how she knew me better than I knew myself. I reassured her I wasn’t going anywhere either, not now or ever. And we decided we didn’t want to set any dates, we were taking it slow. Being engaged was a promise and that was all for now. I wanted to live up to Y/N’s standard, give her and her family a reason to trust me again--not only would they kill me if I ever did anything to her, but I’m pretty sure my own family would kill me too. They were over the moon when they found out we were giving it another go.

“Harry?” Y/N mumbles as I slip under the covers a little while later.

“Sorry for coming home so late,” I whisper. “I got a bit carried away with the case.”

“What’s new,” she shifts to face me, the moonlight from the windows barely illuminating her face. “M’just glad you’re home.”

“Me too,” I pull her towards me. Home, it was this house we’d moved into last year. But mostly, it was this beautiful woman in my arms who opened her heart to me despite everything. I don’t know how I got so lucky. I tell her that.

“S’not luck,” she mumbles. “The universe--our stars are finally aligned.”

“My star was pretty dim, I’m surprised yours found it.” I tuck her hair behind her ear and kiss her temple. “You found it by luck.”

“No. Your star’s always burned the brightest in my universe,” she tucks her face into my neck. “Even when I didn’t want it to be, it was still noticeable.”

“You outshine me in every way in mine,” I lean away so I can hold her face close, resting my forehead on hers. “I love you so much.”

She smiles in the dark, and leaves a kiss on the corner of my mouth. “I love you, and I’d love you more if you came home on time.”

I chuckle, “I’ll try. Tomorrow.”

“Mhm,” she says sleepily. I’d let her sleep, I think as I pull her leg over mine and hold her against my chest. Even though I hated coming home by the time she was asleep, finding her in our little safe space, and being able to hold her close as we fell asleep was my favourite part of the day.

***

The day is nearly over but the paperwork on my desk says otherwise. I sigh and slump in my chair, this was the worst part of my job.

I begin filling it out, and I’m not even halfway through when the phone rings. Serena’s on the other line, “Styles, your patient fiancee is here for you. I don’t think she’s staying patient for long though.”

I tell her I’d be out, smiling as I put down the phone. Y/N was making sure I kept my word from last night, and I would. For her, I would get in extra early tomorrow just to be sure I had the evening with her tonight.

“So when do I get the invitation to the wedding?” I hear Serena say as I walk out to the lobby. She’s putting on her coat to leave and Y/N’s bundled up herself. “And then when do I get to see the mini Styles’? I better be around to see them!”

Not many would, but I notice the slight tension in Y/N’s shoulders at the sensitive topic. I step in.

“You’re worse than my mum,” I tell her. “And she’s actually going to be the grandmother.”

“We just want to see our babies’ babies before we bite the bullet!” Serena shrugs, walking out from behind the counter. “I’ll see you tomorrow Harry, Y/N it was lovely seeing you as always.”

We wave her off, and then I wrap my arm around Y/N and we walk out to my car.

“That’s the first question everyone continues to ask me,” Y/N says as we walk. “When the date is.”

“Does that bother you?” I check in.

“A little, but only because it leads to even more questions when I say we haven’t set a date.”

We get into the car, and I ask her the other question I wanted to know: “And the baby thing? Does that...bother you?”

She turns her body to look at me, tilting her head as she tries to read me. “It doesn’t...does it bother you?”

“No,” I say honestly. “I’m happy where we are. All that stuff can...come after. I’m just-I’m happy with you.”

“Good talk then,” she grins. I can’t help but lean over for a kiss then.

“Well I don’t mind the baby making part,” I tell her. “But I think the actual babies can wait.”

She pushes me away as her cheeks flush like we hadn’t been dating and married and dating again for over ten years. “Sometimes I think you’ve just got one thing on your mind.”

“Yeah,” I say as I start the car. “That’s you.”

“Is that what distracted you so bad when you were working on my case? Because you were totally distracted and we almost died-”

“We were never going to die!” I say over her--this was a common topic of conversation between us.

“I was going to bleed out and die!” She tries to speak over me.

“Oh now you were going to bleed out? You were never dying!” I shout even louder. And we keep going for most of the way home until Y/N catches sight of a dog at a crosswalk and begins to coo at it through the window.

“Maybe we should get a dog,” she starts on another of our reoccurring topics. I sigh, ready to launch into why we should wait. And that’s how the rest of the ride home goes. Not that I minded, I could discuss the same topics with her over and over for eternity.

“You’re just threatened by a dog,” Y/N continues as we park and head up to our front door. “Because then my love would be split between both of you.”

“Yeah sure, that’s it.” I roll my eyes at her silly reasoning. But I still grab her hand in mine and kiss it as we walk in. My stomach flutters when she gazes at me as the door closes behind her.

“I’m going to wear you down soon,” she says as she takes my coat from me. I take them both out of her hands and leave them in a heap on the staircase, kissing her so she stops talking. She smiles against my lips, knowing that she was wearing me down, and I’d give her anything she asked for. Anything to make her happy. I loved her infinitely.

144 notes · View notes

malumsmermaid · 4 years ago

Text

Piercing Love (LH)

Back at it with another fic from the collab group! This month we were randomly assigned a member of the collab to gift a fic to and I got the ever lovely Lauren @loveroflrh. It’s been a joy crafting a story for my fellow Lauren and I hope that you enjoy!

Collab Masterlist My Masterlist Buy Me a Coffee

Piercer!Luke x Tattoo Artist!Reader

Rating: M (18+ only please!)

Warnings: unprotected sex within an established relationship, nipple play, male receiving oral, discussion of tattoos and piercings (needles)

Word Count: 3.8k

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

Luke placed the second suitcase in the back of his car, smiling as he turned to you after he lowered the trunk door. “Ready to go, sweetheart?” he asked, teeth glinting in the morning sunlight.

You nodded, taking his hand and leaning up to give him a kiss, “After you, sunshine.”

He smiled, leaning in for one more peck before walking around to open your door for you. You settled into the seat, humming as you reached back for the seatbelt. You reached over and gave Luke’s hand a squeeze after he clicked his seatbelt, giving him a reassuring smile before pulling away so he could drive.

As Luke began the hours long drive from your place to his parents’ home, you thought back on the past few months with him.

********

A year ago you began working at Michael and Calum’s tattoo studio as they needed another artist, the studio gaining popularity. On your first day there, you saw this handsome prince of a man, sitting at a table and talking with one of the piercers. You thought it was a little early for someone to be getting a piercing consult, opening not for another five minutes.

Michael appeared around a corner, grinning when he laid eyes on you. “Hey!” He called, bouncing over and putting an arm over your shoulder. “Luke, Aaron, you guys need to meet our new artist. Their work is amazing! Y/n, these are our two main piercers, Luke and Aaron.”

Luke smiled, waving before pushing a blonde curl behind his ear. “I don't think I’ve ever been in a studio with a piercer who doesn’t have any piercings.” You voiced before you could stop yourself.

Luke chuckled, “Most people make that assumption, since I took my lip ring out a couple years ago. Didn’t fit who I was anymore. Was just talking with Aaron about doing my nose though.”

You blinked, the insinuation that he did in fact have piercings you couldn’t see right now catching you off guard. He did up two more buttons on his shirt, the shiny fabric pulling across his chest, the imprint of two sets of barbels appearing in the fabric. He gave you a smirk, raising a blonde eyebrow. “I-I think that you would look good with a little gold hoop on your nose.”

He smiled, nodding at Aaron and both men got to their feet, heading towards one of the stations. The door chimed and in walked one of the other artists, Ashton. You’d had an unforgettable meeting with him when you wrapped up your interview with Calum, Ashton having been getting ready to go to yoga, shirt halfway off and a pair of dermals glinting in his lower back. He grinned when he saw you, setting down his coffee and giving you a tight hug. “Told those two they’d be idiots not to hire you when I caught a glance of your portfolio. Glad to be working with you.”

Four months into working there you’d met and befriended everyone who worked in the studio. However, there had been something brewing between you and Luke. A small golden hoop adored his nose from the day you had met, and a week ago he had scheduled a session with you for a thigh piece. You had since learned why his piercings were so few and disappeared under clothing, just like his tattoos, aside from the few tiny ones on his wrists, he had a side gig as a model (an ‘of course’ had spilled past your lips upon learning this tidbit about the blonde.)

When it came time for his appointment, he stepped over to your station from his, licking his lips anxiously as he looked at you before loosening his belt and letting his slacks drop, neatly folding them before laying down on the table. You finished getting set up and carefully lowered the stencil onto Luke’s thigh, giving him a moment to look and be sure it was where he wanted. He gave you a smile and nod, laying back down and you grinned, bending down and getting to work.

Part way through the session, Calum walked over. You looked up at him, smirking when you noticed that the jewelry in his septum piercing matched the plugs Michael had in his ears today. “Michael is getting take-out, you guys want anything?” Calum asked.

Luke smiled, rattling off his usual order. You hummed, “That sounds good, I’ll have that too.” “We can just share mine, I never finish it anyway.” Luke hummed, turning to look at you.

“Agh! Luke!” Calum cried, hand raised up to cover his eyes. “I get you’re getting a thigh tattoo and that’s why your pants are off, but Prince Albert coming to say hello is not cool.”

Luke gave him a quizzical look for a moment before realization crossed his face. You had pulled back to wipe away excess ink and he shifted to adjust himself. “Not like it’s not something you’ve seen before.” Luke muttered.

Calum rolled his eyes, tongue ring flicking out as he licked his lips, brown eyes going far away. “Not yours though.” He retorted before walking back to the front to tell Michael Luke’s order.

“You’re welcome for that by the way!” Luke yelled teasingly before settling back down to let you get back to work.

Twenty minutes later Michael returned with the food, setting the tray down on your worktable. He gave you a wave, looking at your progress on Luke’s thigh before walking back to the front to sit with Calum. “Do you have time to pause for a dinner break, have a bit of a chat?” Luke asked softly once Michael was gone.

You hummed, analyzing how much work you had gotten done on the tattoo and thinking about your schedule. “I think we can take a break for ten minutes.” You finally decided, walking off to get a plate so you could have part of Luke’s order.

He got down from the bench while you were gone, stretching his back and fixing his boxers while he looked at himself in the mirror, grinning as he looked at the half-completed tattoo. You came back with a fork and plate, settling into your chair after scooping a portion onto the paper plate. Luke walked back to the vending machine and got himself a bottle of water before joining you and digging into his meal.

You sat together and ate, chatting back and forth over the warm food. Once the food was gone Luke cleaned up your station, throwing away trash and wiping down the table while you went to wash your hands. Luke joined you a minute later, washing his hands before following you back to the station, laying back down and scrolling his phone as you resumed your work. Once you finished, giving his skin one final wipe, you crouched in front of him after he got a first look of the finished ink, taking a few photos for your portfolio, unsure if Luke would be willing to let you take healed pictures in a few weeks.

As you started cleaning up your stations, only having an hour and a half to wipe and sanitize everything before your next appointment, a third session for a coverup, Luke grabbed your wrist. You looked up at him, humming, “I’m trusting that I don’t have to give you the aftercare run down.”

Luke chuckled, running his fingers through his curls, “Yeah, but I wanted to say thank you...and ask if you wanted to go out sometime, have dinner outside of the shop or something?” You stared up at him, blinking before agreeing softly. “Great, text me your schedule for this week and I’ll cross reference with mine, come up with something and let you know.”

*********

You were brought out of your memories by Luke’s hand on your thigh, blinking as you looked over at him. “Hey, you hungry? I need to stop to go to the bathroom.”

You hummed, glancing at the time to see that you’d been lost in your memories for a couple hours. Your stomach gurgled as you realized how late in the day it was and you nodded, “Sounds great, Lu.”

He stopped at the first food place on the side of the highway, you placed his order while he went to relieve himself, taking a chance to do so yourself once he found you at the table. Once you’d eaten you took another few minutes to walk around and stretch your legs before getting back in the car for the remainder of the drive.

You arrived at his parents’ home two and half hours later, his mom running out the door before Luke had even turned the car off. He laughed, stepping out of the car and catching her in an embrace as she reached him. As you got out you could hear him say, “You weren’t waiting at the window all day, were you?”

You smiled at the teasing tone in his voice, seeing his dad on the porch before you turned to get the bags from the trunk. “It’s been a while since you’ve brought anyone home,” You heard Liz say, “I was excited.”

Luke hummed, and lowered his voice, thinking you couldn’t still hear him, “Been a while since I’ve had anyone worth it.”

You licked your lips at the quiet admission, taking a deep breath and pretending like you hadn’t heard, closing the trunk and walking over to your boyfriend. He jumped in his mom’s embrace at the sight of you with both suitcases, “I was gonna get those,” he pouted, but you just waved him off.

“Hi Liz,” you said instead of replying to Luke.

You had met his parents over facetime once a few months into the relationship. It had been the first time you stayed over at Luke’s house, waking up in his bed alone, pulling his green button down over your frame and stepping out to look for him. You heard him talking to someone so you hastily did up a few buttons before finding him in the living room, half eaten bowl of cereal in his lap. He had given you a bashful smile before patting the spot next to him on the sofa, allowing you to join him as he talked to his parents.

She grinned, finally releasing Luke and hugging you. You froze for half a second, there had been several things you’d anticipated in meeting Luke’s parents, being wrapped in a bone crushing hug immediately upon arrival wasn’t one of them. You returned her hug, closing your eyes after seeing Luke walking up to his dad, one of the suitcases in hand before opening his arm to embrace Andy.

Finally, you all made it inside, Luke leading the way upstairs to his old bedroom so that you could put your things away. You found a spot to place your suitcase, crouching down to pull out your laptop and sketchbook, needing to touch up a few designs this weekend even though you were technically off. Before you could grab them, however, Luke was next to you, leaning in for a kiss. You hummed, crouching back and returning the kiss, which devolved into Luke hovering over you, now laying on your back on the floor, as his lips moved passionately against your own.

Footsteps sounded in the hallway and Luke quickly pulled back, sitting back on his heels while you sat up and reached for your sketchbook again. Liz gently knocked on the cracked bedroom door before poking her head in. “We have reservations made at your favorite place in two hours, if you two wanted to take a moment to settle in and freshen up.”

Luke nodded, whispering a thanks and she walked back out, leaving the door partially open. You smirked and Luke hummed, “Old habits die hard...honestly surprised that my old posters are still up though.”

You let out a giggle before looking around the bedroom, noticing images of pro surfers and some bands scattered around the room, on the back of the door, the closet door, and a few spots on the walls. You hummed as you took it all in, smiling, “I like this, it’s like getting to know a version of you that I’ve never met before.”

Luke sighed, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Glad that you know me as the man I am today instead of who I was a couple years ago.”

You nodded, rubbing his back, knowing from late night conversations the two of you had had both as friends and since dating that he’d gone through a lot before he started working at the shop. He let you hold him for a minute before clearing his throat, “Anyway, the bathroom is across the hall if you want to freshen up first.”

You nodded, setting your computer and sketchbook on the bed finally and going back into the suitcase to get out your toiletries before heading across the hall. Once you’d finished your shower, you walked back across the hall, wrapped in a towel and crouched down to dig through your clothes, “You said this place was fancy right?” You asked, looking over your shoulder.

Luke hummed, “I mean, it’s not fancy fancy, but it’s pretty nice, y’know.”

You nodded, understanding what he meant, pulling out a nicer outfit you’d packed. Luke smiled, walking over and unwrapping the towel from around you, leaning in for a kiss before he picked up his own toiletries and disappeared through the door. Once you were both ready, you settled into the bed, you carefully working on perfecting a rough design a client had emailed you while Luke was texting Ashton. Soon a knock sounded on the door, Andy’s voice travelling through, “We’re ready to go if you are.”

You glanced at Luke, nodding to each other and getting up, following Andy’s retreating footsteps down the stairs. Dinner went well, learning more about Luke’s parents, telling them more about yourself, and hearing some stories about Luke’s childhood. You were all still at the table two hours later, Andy finally settling the check and driving home. Once there, you all changed into pajamas and joined each other in the living room to watch tv before finally going to bed. As you and Luke snuggled up, Luke nuzzling his head against yours, you both let out a content sigh. You could feel Luke smiling against the top of your head, then pressing a gentle kiss there, before he whispered, “I love you.”

You smiled, turning into his chest more before whispering a soft, “I love you too.”

You could still feel his smile against your head as you closed your eyes, slowly drifting off.

You woke the next morning to Luke tracing your tattoos. You slowly blinked, looking up at him, his eyes focused on following the different designs on your arms. “Mum left us a note. She and dad had made plans with some friends a few weeks ago, before they knew we were coming. They’ve gone out for breakfast and then are doing some plant shopping. Probably be back by lunch. She didn’t want to wake us, or bore us with the shopping trip. I was thinking, after breakfast, we could go drive around town for a bit, show you a few places I used to go.”

You nodded, running your hands across his bare chest, having somehow slipped the tank top he’d been wearing when you fell asleep without waking you. You shifted on top of him, noticing the usual presence of morning wood as you settled. Luke let out a groan, hands grabbing your shoulders, “I was trying to get it under control,” he murmured.

You leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, fingers coming up to tease his nipple piercings. He let out a low hum, hands moving up from your shoulders and resting against the back of your head, deepening the kiss. “It is just us here, so if you want a better way to help take care of your usual morning friend, all you have to do is ask.”

You felt a low rumble building in his chest and smiled, pressing your hips against his hardening length. You gradually pulled back from his lips, trailing kisses down his neck, taking time to play with his jewelry, mouthing over his nipples as you kicked back the blankets. You both quickly removed clothing, you straddling his lap and grinding on his clothed length. Neither of you could ever take much buildup first thing in the morning, so it wasn’t long before Luke’s boxers joined the rest of the clothes and blankets at the end of the bed.

You sat back on your heels, admiring your boyfriend beneath you. You let out a content sigh, the contrast of the warm weight of his hard cock against your thigh and the cool metal of his piercing was one of your favorite parts of your mornings spent with Luke. You took him in your hand, flicking at a drop of precum that was about to roll down onto his piercing. Slowly, you lined up with him and sank down, both of you letting out relieved moans as he bottomed out, filling you perfectly.

You swivelled your hips, finding the spot where his cock piercing hit perfectly before pushing off of him, setting a lazy pace. Luke let out a soft moan of your name, crystal eyes closing and head leaning back against his pillow, his hands resting limply against your hips as you maintained the slow pace. You leaned down, pressing a kiss to his lips and pushing his golden curls back away from his face. You cupped his jaw in your hand, smiling as you looked at his relaxed face. “I was right about a gold nose ring suiting you,” you hummed as you sank down on him again. Luke simply groaned in response, relaxed grip on your hips tightening. “Hope you’re right about what I heard you tell your mum in the driveway yesterday.”

“Do we have to bring her up right now,” he whined, thrusting up into you.

“I just...was curious...am I really the first person in a while who’s worth bringing home?” You whispered, hands pressing down in the center of his chest.

Luke smiled, eyes opening to look up at you in adoration, “Course you are. Last person I brought here who was someone I was intimate with was Ash. And my parents didn’t know about that because Ash wasn’t anything serious, and they’d already known Ashton from when we were kids. He just came to support me while I was trying to find myself again, and we certainly didn’t do anything while we were here.”

You smiled down at him sheepishly and he leaned up for a kiss. He flipped you both over, leading to you gasping against his lips. His necklace dangled, pendant brushing your chest as he whispered “I love you,” a kiss punctuating each word.

You sighed, “I love you too,” pushing back against him.

He smiled, giving you another kiss before beginning to thrust his hips, just slightly faster than you’d been when you left off. You moaned loudly as he hit inside you perfectly, nails lightly digging into his shoulders. “Everything about you so perfect babe,” he whispered, “perfect person, perfect fit for me in every way. Will never get over how lucky I am to have you.”

You let out a soft sigh, tightening your hold on him with your entire body, nuzzling into his neck. “I’d say it’s the other way around. Still don’t believe I’ve ever done anything to deserve a man like you.”

Luke just hummed, dropping one hand between your thighs, fingers working to bring you closer to the edge. His lips pressed against yours prevented you from voicing any other doubts that may have sprung forth in your mind, his cock driving into you with more force. You moaned his name, the sound muffled against his lips, coming apart with your high not long after. He helped you ride out your high, soft groans falling from his own mouth as he slowly thrusted. He pulled out after you finished, looking down at you bashfully. “Wasn’t exactly planning on us having a chance to do anything this weekend,” he said softly. “Dunno if we’ll have time to do laundry if I...y’know.”

You smiled, leaning up to peck his lips before moving to crouch on the floor at the side of the bed. He moved to perch at the very edge of the bed, legs spread on either side of you as you cleaned him up, taking a moment to toy with the ring at his tip with your lips and tongue before taking him into your mouth. You knew he was close so you didn’t take him as far back as you could. You hollowed your cheeks, working your tongue along him to help bring him closer, hand alternating between pumping the remainder of his length outside your mouth and fondling his balls.

You felt his cock twitch against your tongue before Luke let out his usual high pitched whine that he made whenever he was right at the edge of his high. You took a deep breath through your nose, giving his thigh a light pinch to let him know you were ready for him. He gave a shallow nod, whimpering as he started to spill over your tongue, giving small, eager thrusts as he filled your mouth.

You swallowed as much of his release as you could, some spilling from between your lips as he pulled his spent cock out of your mouth slightly too soon, slipping off of the bed to crouch in front of you. He gave you a smile, leaning forward and swiping his thumb across your bottom lip, slipping the digit in his own mouth for a moment before leaning forward to connect your lips once again. You both moaned as his tongue slid against yours, tasting himself on you. Finally he pulled away to rest his forehead on yours, “How about we shower and get cleaned up, have some proper breakfast, and then go out exploring. I’ll tell my parents where they can meet us for lunch when they’re ready.”

You smiled, giving him a quick peck, “Sounds like a plan.” You hummed, slowly getting to your feet, holding your hand out to your boyfriend.

He gave you a smile and a nod, taking your hand as he got to his feet, following you across the hall, getting in one last, “I love you” before the shower water started.

Taglist: @irwinkitten @calpops @goth5sos @wildflowergrae @talkfastromance4 @maluminspace @notinthesameguey @cashtonasfuck @sexgodashton @castaway-cashton @treatallwithkindness @theyorthemrecords @another-lonely-heart @ghostofmashton @opheliaaurora23 @loxerofmine @youngblood199456 @megz1985

Luke Taglist: @adoringlrh @poguecalum @lashtonswildflower @angelicfluffs @loveroflrh @close--as-strangers

Fill Out This Form to be Added to my Taglist

#luke hemmings #luke hemmings fluff #luke hemmings smut #luke hemmings 5sos #luke hemmings 5 seconds of summer #luke 5sos #luke 5 seconds of summer #luke hemmings x reader #luke x reader #luke hemmings x y/n #luke x y/n #malum #lashton #as a quick glance but y'know it's in there #piercer!luke #luke hemmings au

221 notes · View notes

1waizumihajime · 4 years ago

Text

kazunari, the mankai company's resident social media specialist ("kazunari that's not your title, we're not paying you for this" "...anyways"), in an attempt to boost the company's social media presence, has mandated that all members must maintain their own instablam page! here is autumn troupe's attempt.

taichi: he already had an account so he's a bit bitter that he has less followers than some of the new accounts. his aesthetic is much like his personality- attempts to be cool that are a little reminiscent of 2013 tumblr mixed with bits of his actual likable personality! and dogs. lots of dogs. shut up yuki.

omi: a wholesome cutie! he originally created his account as a photography portfolio but now it functions as a mix of stuff he likes! it's mostly food, sports photography, ft. his life as a college student. this would all be fine if he didn't repost pinterest images of his dream kitchen and tag sakyo in every single one. ("it's not in the budget!" "if i don't get double wall ovens installed in the next two weeks i'm going on strike.")

banri: already had an account, got a bunch of of followers with minimal effort (as usual), and stopped using it because it got boring. he was pretty content just posting once every two weeks or whatever to keep kazunari off his back but then he saw juza's follower count grow and surpass his own. no doubt about it, this means war. banri's weapon of choice? thirst traps. ("that punk thinks he can beat me? always starting shit, i can't believe his nerve...he's going down." "...uh, banny? you know he doesn't even...you know what? nevermind.")

juza: has no idea what's going on. kazunari had to create the account for him. tsuzuru had to change the ridiculous username kazunari set. omi took his profile photo. it takes a village. since juza is the living definition of Trying His Best™ he took kazunari's advice to heart: post what you love. juza loves sweets, but he's trying to keep that a secret (no one has the heart to tell him that hasn't been a secret for a long time). hence, the cafe aesthetic. close to dessert without exposing his sweet tooth. it's perfect. a little too perfect. without realizing it, he's become the new source of cafe aesthetic and boyfriend photos for aesthetic posts on tumblr. ahem. juza doesn't really get it but he's happy to be doing well for the sake of the company. he is a little confused about one feature though ("hey kazunari? i've been getting these notifications that banri just liked a bunch of my posts from a few weeks ago? but then when i click the post the like disappears. is it a bug or something?" "...i'll talk to him.") (subtext: banri is bad at one thing: social media stalking)

sakyo: was forced to make an account (kazunari followed him around, not leaving a foot of space in between them for two days. sakyo's thinking of recruiting him to the yakuza as a torture device.) his aesthetic is very ~dark academia~ with a little grunge mixed in. ("where are you even getting the european gothic architecture photos? we live in japan"). the director and omi are very concerned with his more risqué photos, showing tattoos and smoking and the like. ("don't you know that kids follow us? you're supposed to be the adult here!!!") sakyo doesn't care. he's trying to get his account shut down within the month, or he'll be forced to take far more drastic measures.

azami: already had an account, but changed the username once the mankai company started opening their individual accounts. he refuses to acknowledge his inspiration. azami's account is flourishing, gaining followers by the day. while it used to just be makeup photos, he's branched into fashion and ~aesthetic~ type photos. the cigarette photo caused an ordeal in the dorms ("see sakyo!!! you're corrupting the babies!!!" "i'm not a baby!" this goes without response.) azami is the reason that all of the students have to sit through a two hour anti smoking lecture. none of them smoke.

#a3!#a3! juza #a3! omi #a3! banri #a3! sakyo #a3! taichi #a3! azami #juza hyodo #omi fushimi #banri settsu #sakyo furuichi #taichi nanao #azami izumida #autumn troupe #a3! act! addict! actors!#a3! actor training game #insta au

108 notes · View notes

wienerbarnes · 4 years ago

Text

Old Friend

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (Cheek to Cheek)

Word Count: 2,333

Warnings: nothing this time! warm feelings

A/N: ok so I have an idea but it'd kind of be a bigger plot point for this universe so I'm gonna try and do some head cannons to fill in some gaps before writing the next big part! feel free to send in any ideas! ill write em if they strike the inspo :)

MAIN MASTERLIST | CHEEK TO CHEEK MASTERLIST

“Bucky! You’re finally back!”

Your body jumped into his arms with excitement, happiness and joy radiating off of your body immediately causing a toothy smile to grow on his face. He caught you in his arms, wrapping both around your waist and lifting up off the ground, your arms curling around his neck.

“Sorry, I was longer than expected.” Bucky says, slowly letting you down back on your feet.

What was supposed to be a week long investigation in London turn into seven weeks as a string of human trafficking crimes were tied to more and more people, forcing him and Sam to extend their stay.

Bucky enters your apartment and makes his way to one of your cabinets, taking out two placemats, a set of plates, and silverware as he watches you make your way back to the stove. Regardless of the fact that he’s been away for a while, the two of you seem to fall back into rhythm as though nothing’s changed.

“I found this easy tomato soup recipe so I made it with some grilled cheese sandwiches,” You explain, slowly stirring the red liquid in the pot. You don’t turn around but Bucky can hear the proud smile in your voice. “I even remembered to wash my hands this time,”

“I missed you.” He says suddenly, seemingly not being able to hold himself back. You pause your stirring and look over your shoulder back at him, “I missed you, too, Bucky.” A wide smile spreading across your face.

Something changed in him the last seven weeks.

He couldn’t stop thinking about you. At first it was worry; constantly wondering if you were safe, if you had gotten yourself into any complicated situations without him around to help you. Everytime Sam’s phone would ring, a part of him was terrified that it was a phone call to inform him that you had been found and were being transported back to prison. You don’t have a phone or any other means of communication, so it was hard for him to constantly be worrying without any way of checking in on you.

Soon, the worry was replaced with longing. He began to miss your different colored hair, always changing it up for appearance, but also you making him guess what color you were going next before not telling him anyway. He missed the way you were always coloring your nails, changing out your earrings everyday with something new and colorful, the way you would tell him awful jokes he’d heard a thousand times before, jokes that would make blush and cringe, the way you’d tell him stories from your past; the fact that you trust him enough to do so in the first place.

Everything he saw in London reminded him of you in some way. Everything he saw, he wished you were there with him to share it with. He couldn’t wait to tell you about the people, the buildings, the food; he could only imagine the way you’d fake an accent to see how long you could get away with it around locals or the way you’d tease about how “they’re driving on the wrong side of the road.”

“Oh! I forgot to tell you, I did a thing!” You snap him out of his thoughts with the placement of the soup bowl and two sandwiches on the table in front of him. He sits down and his eyes widen as you pull down your pants.

He doesn’t have time to be distracted with your lime green cheeky underwear because he’s distracted by the large outline of a tattoo running down your leg.

There’s no shading or color, only black lines that outline countless flowers and leaves, lines filling in the spaces in between. The tattoo spans from the top of your thigh, disappearing in between your inner thighs and trailing down to your ankle. You twist your leg in a bit to show how it wraps around, and you're completely unaware of the look on Bucky’s face. He never knew he had a thing for tattoos until now.

He closes his eyes while you're not looking, trying to calm the heat he can feel against his neck and ears.

“How did- How did you even do that?” He asks, glancing up at the smile on your face as you stare down at your own leg.

“Okay, so- I found this cool tattoo shop, right? And I go in and they tell me that I need an ID and money, both of which I obviously don’t have, so I left. And then,” You pause to shove your tomato-soaked cheese sandwich into your mouth, red liquid dripping from the corners of your mouth, barely making it onto the plate and dirtying the cloth underneath.

“Then, this guy comes out of nowhere from the shop and he says that he’d be happy to tattoo me for free so he can build his portfolio! So, that’s what I did!” You finish explaining.

“Was he like… sterile?”

“Duh, Bucky. What kind of person do you take me for?” You reassure him.

He pushes both thoughts of another guy rubbing on your thighs and the amount of risk that came with pulling that stunt as you both catch up on each other’s lives. He tells you about London, you tell him about the tattoo experience, he tells you about London life, you tell him about your trips to the fresh market and how you’ve been getting better and better at cooking.

He’s washing the dishes while you towel dry them and put them away in your small cupboard when he brings up an idea to you.

“So, I want you to meet a friend of mine.” He suggests to you.

“Bucky, you know I can’t meet any of your friends.” You respond, deflated, after a moment of silence.

“I know what you're thinking, but I promise this guy is as safe as safe can be. I was thinking of taking a drive to visit him tomorrow, and I think you guys would get along well.” He continues soaping up the china in the sink, but doesn’t look at you; he can guess the nervous look on your face as he senses your tension and hears the increased beat of your heart.

“... Are you trying to set me up with this guy?” You ask, offense present in your voice.

A chuckle escapes him, “I think this guy is… a little out of your age range. Look,” He turns off the water as you dry off the last plate. “Do you trust me?”

“With everything.” You say without an ounce of hesitation.

“Then come with me tomorrow.”

After a moment of thought and consideration, you agree.

…

“I didn’t know you had a car!”

“Got it just for you, doll.”

“Is your license even in date? Have you had your vision checked recently, old man?”

He closes the door behind him and makes his way to the passenger side to open the car door for you, “We’ve got a bit of a drive, I figured this was more comfortable than the bike.”

You’ve dressed up today, a pair of shorts that show off your tattoo, with a large long-sleeved t-shirt adorning your frame, a mis-matched jacket and sweatshirt hanging off of your shoulders. He likes that you’ve got a thing for layers, and he’ll never get over the comfort you take in having fun with your appearance.

A two and a half hour drive leads you both to a reserved house, trees and bushes decorating the front of the property and a basic Welcome Home sign hanging from the door.

“Bucky… who do you know that lives all the way out here?” You ask as he parks. As much as she trusts him, she had nightmares about who she would be meeting today. Her biggest fear was Sam or Sharon. As full of love Bucky is, she wasn’t sure his friends would feel the same; they have a large responsibility and clearly value their job and their morals, which would make it hard for them to see her in the same light Bucky sees her in.

“You’ll see, babe. Just relax, c’mon.” Bucky says, turning off the car and opening the door. You can’t help the warmth flooding your face at the pet name and you hope Bucky doesn’t notice enough to tease you about it as he opens your door for you.

Bucky flips through his keys as you both approach the porch and he finally sticks a silver one into the lock, turning it to the left.

“Must know them pretty well to have a spare key.”

“You have no idea,” Bucky mumbles.

“Steve?” Bucky calls out into the house.

“Back here, Buck!” A raspier voice echoes back.

A elderly man steps out from a side hallway. A friendly smile sits on his face, and you return it, not being able to help it at the sight of a nice-looking old man in a sweater and soft looking slacks.

“I’m Steve. It's a pleasure to meet you.” He holds out a hand, and you shake it, replying with your name as well.

“Sweetheart, this is Steve Rogers.” Bucky informs you.

You freeze, smile dropping from your face and hand pausing in Steves.

“Steve… Rogers? The Steve Rogers? Like- Captain America? But… You-You died!” You exclaim.

“I did, didn’t I,” Steve laughs out, releasing your hand. “Have you eaten?” He asks.

“What the fuck?” You ask, seemingly more confused by that question than the fact that Steve Rogers is, 1: Old, and 2: Alive and well living in a beautiful home in the outskirts of New York.

Another laugh sounds from the older man, “Why don’t you have a seat, I’ll make you guys something, I’m sure you’re hungry after the drive.” He trails off, making his way to the kitchen.

“Wow, nice to see you're a chef now. You’ve come a long way from having no taste buds a century ago.” Bucky jokes, a light smile on his face as he makes his way after Steve towards the kitchen island.

This isn’t fucking real right now. Who else is the government hiding? Cobain? Kennedy? How the fuck am I in Captain America’s super nicely furnished-old-timey style-house that’s hidden away in paradise? It’s so different for you to see Bucky so relaxed. He looks incredibly carefree, joking around, teasing with his best friend. It makes you feel warm inside to see him this way, because as much as the two of you get along, it is rare to see him so happy and bubbly.

You glance around the walls, the place definitely embodying the aesthetic of Steve Rogers, with wooden accents to furniture and decor and copious amounts of pictures everywhere. Him and his wife, pictures of young adults and children, his kids and grand-kids and great-grand-kids you assume, some of Bucky, both old and new, some of Sam and Sharon.

As the three of you talk, Bucky realizes that he didn’t remember the fact that you were dusted in the snap as he was. You were in the prison when it happened, and it was where you returned when everyone was brought back, but it was large news that Steve Rogers sacrificed his life for the world, along with Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff, and other heroes. He watches you and Steve interact easily, as though you’ve known each other forever, as he tells you about his time returning the stones, the way he lived when he returned to the forties for good, what it was like seeing life evolve as he already knew it in his mind.

You asked question after question, like a child meeting their favorite celebrity or going on a field trip to their favorite place. You were animated with your questions, exaggerating your thoughts with your hands, all while cursing like a sailor with your vulgar language, all of which Steve loved.

He knew the talking-to he was going to receive from Steve later, he saw it in the look he gave him when he entered the kitchen behind him. He has never brought anyone to see Steve, besides Sam, of course, let alone a girl. This most definitely looks like you and him are in some sort of relationship; this is pretty much the equivalent of meeting the family. Or at least, as much family as he can get away with for now.

He’s not going to know what to respond when Steve asks him about you. In regards to anything; whether or not you two are dating, whether or not he’s going to tell Sam or Sharon, what his feelings are for you. Does he have feelings for you?

The rest of the afternoon is spent sharing stories, looking at pictures, and more and he can see how happy you’ve acted since being here. It’s definitely been a change in your routine for the past two years as you’ve really grown into yourself again.

Bucky’s brain doesn’t shut up the entire drive back to your apartment. He thinks about long drives with you every weekend, he thinks about you meeting the other people that are important to him, he thinks about finding a way to get you a new identity, but cringes at the thought of having to call you another name other than your own. He constantly glances at your sleeping body in the passenger seat next to him, facial features soft as you dream, mouth open just a bit where he can hear the softest snores. You’re using his jacket as a pillow as your sock-covered feet are curled beneath you in the seat.

He sits in his car for a few minutes after dropping you off at the door of your apartment, refusing your invitation inside with a made-up excuse about checking on Alpine and needing to change her box and food, even though he’d bet anything that that cat is fast asleep on his pillow.

He takes a deep breath before taking out his phone and selecting a contact from his favorites. It rings twice before he hears a voice on the other end.

“Hey, Sam? You free? I wanna… I wanna talk to you about something.”

#Bucky barnes #Bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #Bucky barnes oneshot #marvel #Bucky x reader #bucky x criminal!reader #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes series

131 notes · View notes

omg-imagine · 4 years ago

Text

⊱ Forget Me Not (10/15) ⊰

Pairing: Keanu Reeves x Reader

Summary: After you wake up from a coma and realize that your memories from the last five years have been erased, Keanu works to bring back what you have lost.

Words: 2.9k

Warnings: angst, mentions of sex and cheating

A/N: It’s shorter than usual but it sets up the next chapter 👀

Also, huuuuuge thanks to @ficsnroses for reading this over as well as being super supportive when I was having a mini meltdown while writing this :)) !!

Anyways, hope you all enjoy!

Part 9

Eyes fluttering open and adjusting to the blinding daylight, Keanu almost didn’t recognize the white ceiling above. Gaze fixed on the crown molding, there was a small, yet discernable patch of grey in one corner, a soreness to his eyes. A light chuckle then escaped him, remembering when he repainted the room a year ago and had accidentally left the mark up there. He had promised to fix it, several times actually, but life got so hectic that he eventually forgot, and it was left neglected to this day.

Surrounded by the dark blue duvet he’d received as part of a house-warming gift years ago, the last time Keanu slept on this heavenly cloud of a mattress was the night you came home from the hospital. He’d gotten quite used to the smaller bed in the guest room, and waking up in this one was nearly unfamiliar to him. Shifting slightly, he stopped abruptly when he heard a soft moan to his left, feeling the warmth of another body pressed against him moving before the sheets settled again.

Turning to lie on his back, a sigh fell from Keanu’s lips at the sight of you curled up and facing the other wall. You were still in deep-sleep with one hand under your cheek, your hair spilled over the pillow, and your bare skin set aglow by the midday sun. The blankets barely covered your nude body from his eyes, and even after five years, it never failed to take his breath away.

You were beautiful, simply stunning, and utterly mesmerizing. Only a fool would choose to glance the other way when it came to you.

Mind drifting back to the night prior, the corners of Keanu’s mouth curled upwards into a soft smile. He thought about the tender way the two of you made love for hours, only falling asleep when dawn finally crept up, painting the skies outside a rosy hue. It was sweet and gentle, and Keanu hoped it was special for you, knowing it would be your first time with him. Though it had been an impulsive decision on his part, his heart swelled at the image of you experiencing pure bliss, something he had painfully longed to see again after months without doing so.

Waking up next to you felt like a dream to him, a place of endless peace and tranquility, one where the weight of his faults amounted next to nothing. For a moment, Keanu wished that it could stay this way; no guilt, secrets, and lies. Just you and him, home in your own perfect haven where the ugly past neither mattered nor existed. If he could, he would stay wrapped up in your arms forever, relishing the warmth and love he once took for granted.

But Molly’s ultimatum reminded Keanu that his world would soon fall apart. She had given him seven days to tell you the truth. Well, six now after he lost his chance last night. Even though that was generous of her, it wasn’t enough time for him to say goodbye. By this time next week, whether it be through Keanu or Molly, you would know of everything. Your heart had been broken too many times in past relationships, and he was sure that you would never forgive him for doing the same.

Keanu’s wandering thoughts ceased when you stirred awake beside him, letting out a yawn as you stretched out your limbs. Your eyes opened slowly, and after blinking a few times, you glanced at him with a tired yet bright and shining smile. Rolling onto your side, you rested your head on his bare chest, your fingers lightly skimming over the expanse, lazily drawing circles on his skin. His arm quickly came around your shoulders, pulling you close before gingerly kissing your temple then burying his nose into your hair.

“Good morning,” you mumbled softly, looking up at Keanu with your sparkling eyes.

“It’s the afternoon, baby,” he spoke, his voice thick with sleep yet filled with affection. “We slept through half the day already.”

“Well, we did have a very late night. It’s pretty understandable, don’t you think?” You giggled sweetly, nuzzling deeper into Keanu’s side. “So, about last night…”

He saw you bite your bottom lip, your gaze falling as if you’re pondering what to say next. A breath hitched in his throat as he silently studied your features. Keanu has never had someone so precious encased in his arms. Even with your hair mussed and eyes bleary, he still adored your natural state of beauty greatly.

“What about last night?” He questioned, genuinely curious.

A smile broke through your lips as you glanced back up at him. “It was perfect. I don’t know what else to say other than it was perfect. You are perfect.”

“I’m glad that you think so,” Keanu simply returned, slightly chuckling at the end as he craned his neck down to kiss you. “You’re perfect, too. So beautiful, and you feel so good.”

He couldn’t help himself. Keanu softly nudged you to lie back while he hovered above you, kissing a path down the column of your neck. He released a small groan when your nimble fingers tangled tightly in his dark hair, tugging them gently as your body arched upwards. You were craving more, and Keanu was willing to give you his all, realizing this would be one of the final instances that he could.

For a brief second, you stared deeply into his eyes, and that’s when he noticed the tears shimmering in them.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, purely concerned as he watched you quickly wipe away the wetness.

“Nothing,” you brushed off, your words coming out as a broken whisper. Keanu looked at you solemnly, placing his hand on one side of your face and stroking your cheekbone delicately with his thumb.

He hated seeing you cry.

“Y/N…”

“I’m not crying because I’m sad,” you finally reveal with a shake of your head and a tender smile. “I’m crying because this is everything that I’ve wanted. After Eric, I really believed that I would never find someone who loves me the way you do. I didn’t even think I could ever trust another person with my heart again, but then you came into my life.”

Keanu remained quiet, his body still on top of yours, but he held his weight with his elbows. His curtain of hair hid the sorrow and pain in his eyes until you reached up, brushing back the locks away from his face. He knew all about Eric and the emotional harm he had done to you, especially during the last few months of your relationship. He swore he would never hurt you the way Eric had, but he did.

“When I caught him with that woman the first time, it made me feel like I wasn’t enough. I wasn’t good enough, pretty enough, or smart enough. I wasn’t enough for him that he strayed away, and found somebody else better than me. And for a while, I thought it was my fault. I loved him too much to let him go, even though I was blaming myself for things that I shouldn’t have had.”

“You’re more than enough, darling,” Keanu intoned softly, intertwining his hand with yours and giving it a light, reassuring squeeze. “He didn’t deserve you.”

Neither did he.

“I realize that later on when I left, but the pain didn’t disappear until you showed up,” you added, sighing. “It’s only been months since I’ve known you Ke, or at least, that’s how it seems like because of the amnesia. But you make me feel like I’m everything. You make me feel so loved and so beautiful…”

Gently, you pushed Keanu to lie down before swinging one leg over to straddle his hips. He started to notice the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, a wave of regret washing over him after hearing your words. You trusted him, loved him, saw him as the man you dreamed and longed for when in reality, he’s not.

Not anymore.

“If I end up not gaining my memories back,” you murmured as your mouth ghosted over his jaw, teasingly, “I’ll be content with the ones I already have with you.”

This time, it was Keanu trying to fight back his own tears. He’d deeply miss these intimate moments shared only between the two of you. He’d miss the softness of your lips and the warmth of your breath against his skin. He’d miss the sound of your voice, the way your laugh instantly brightens up the room and how your breathless moans made him feel desirable. He’d miss every curve of your body and every perfect imperfection on your skin. He’d miss hearing his name slip through your lips as you cry out in pleasure with him holding you close.

The end was drawing near, and nothing would ever prepare him enough for that moment. Six more days, and it’s over.

He would then miss it all.

---

“Y/N? Hello?”

You jolted slightly in your seat, seeing Molly waving her hand in front of your face to grab your attention. In the midst of your weekend brunch, you had gotten lost in your thoughts that were mainly of Keanu. Truth be told, you were lovestruck by him, even more so after the night you finally made love. Memories of it often flooded your mind, reminding you of how caring and attentive Keanu was, and how amazing it all felt being with him.

You never knew love could feel like this.

“Sorry,” you spoke once you snapped out of your daydreaming, which has lately become a regular occurrence. “What were you saying?”

Molly chuckled, shaking her head. “I was asking how work was going.”

“It’s going great, actually,” you beamed excitedly. “We’re prepping for that big fashion shoot in Japan next month. I’m still nervous about going, but it’s one of those opportunities that I’d be crazy to pass up.”

“Well, you should definitely go. Not only is it a great addition to your portfolio, it’ll also be a nice sightseeing trip, too,” Molly encouraged. “I’ve been to Japan a couple of times for work and let me tell you, it’s absolutely gorgeous there. From the culture to the food, I wish I could go back and experience it all over again.”

“I was actually thinking of asking Keanu if he wanted to go with me,” you shared, a soft smile appearing on your face. “I figured it’d be a fun trip for the two of us and escape LA for a little while. As far as I know, he doesn’t have anything important scheduled during that time. Plus, he’s going to be busy doing a movie next year, and we want to spend as much time together before that happens.”

Molly’s grin fell, her mouth pulling into a tight line. “I mean, it’s up to you if you want to invite him or not.”

Your brows furrowed at the strange shift in her demeanor. “Yeah, I’ll talk to Ke when I get home later.”

“How is he, though?” Molly inquired. You noticed very recently how tense she got every time you mentioned Keanu, and at this point, it was becoming worrisome. Did she know something that you didn’t?

“He’s good. Honestly, he’s doing great—we’re doing great.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Y/N. Truly.”

You reached for the glass of water on the table, taking a few quick sips before sighing. “I told Ke I love him.”

Molly’s eyes widened, her lips parting slightly, and you heard a short gasp. “You did?”

“Yes,” you confirmed with a single nod. “I told him the night of his birthday, and… and we slept together.”

“Oh,” she could only say, her shoulders dropping, and her blue eyes flickering away from your gaze. “T-That’s… wow. I-I can’t believe he did that.”

“What do you mean?” You probed, cocking your head to the side.

Molly glanced back up at you, her muscles rigid, and the taut expression on her face bringing you concern. “He’s never going to tell you. He can’t let you go.”

Her voice was low and alarming, and you almost didn’t catch it. “Tell me what?”

A sense of dread began to spread as you waited for an answer. Molly swallowed thickly, the air in the small cafe you were seated in felt heavy, and it made you uncomfortable. You didn’t want to think of the worse. In fact, you didn’t want to believe that what she had to say could be bad. You had shared the last piece of yourself to Keanu, but with the way your friend was acting, you started doubting your decision.

“Molly, what is it?!”

Salty tears began to prick your eyes the longer you sat there, not knowing. Your heart thumped heavily against your chest as panic continued to gnaw at your guts while your mind did its best to keep you calm.

Keanu was a good person; he could do no wrong. He loved you. He could never hurt you.

But what if he did? What if he did more than what he told you?

“Y/N,” Molly sighed, her hands reaching across the table to hold your clammy ones. “I’m sorry that I have to tell you this, but after what you’ve done, I don’t think Keanu is ever going to come clean.”

“What did he do?” You questioned, feeling your heart shatter into a million pieces. “Please, Molly. Just say it.”

“Keanu’s not the man you think he is...” she stated carefully, scared of your reaction.

The following words coming out of Molly were unbelievable at first. You didn’t want to accept that there was any truth in them. It didn’t seem right that Keanu was capable of doing such a thing, but even though she couldn’t explain in detail what had happened, deep down, you could feel it.

Memories of the timeline before the accident didn’t come back to you, but you remembered something else from the night that changed everything...

Red-hot, searing anger.

---

Dark clouds began to fill up the entire sky above LA as the city braced for another storm. Keanu peered through the drapes to see small water droplets falling from above. The rain wasn’t heavy yet, though it still worried him while knowing you could be driving somewhere out there. He had called you just recently and asked if he could pick you up, only to learn that you were already on your way home.

It was Saturday, and usually, the two of you would go out on a date, but because of the poor weather, you decided to have a quiet evening indoors. Keanu had planned to surprise you with a movie night, one of your favorite things to do with him. The tv was already set-up, and the buttered popcorn was cooling off back in the kitchen. All he was waiting for now was you, and you’d be here any minute soon.

Taking a seat on the couch, Keanu then let a deep breath out as he checked the time on his watch, the roaring sound of thunder suddenly disrupting the silence. He could hear the rain starting to pick up, and through the parted curtains, he noticed the trees swaying wildly from the strong winds blowing outside of the house. The scene out there was unsettling, and he could only hope that you make it back safe and sound.

Moments later, the keys jingling outside of the nearby door alerted Keanu of your presence, and he quickly got up from the sofa and unlocked the door for you. Swinging it open, he welcomed you with a relieved smile breaking over his face, which disappeared in a split-second after seeing how you glowered at him.

“Hey, babe,” he greeted light-heartedly, though your expression remained. “I’m happy you got home—”

“Don’t,” you sternly interjected, raising your pointer finger in front of him. “Don’t you dare.”

Keanu watched in trepidation when you pushed passed him and stalked into the house, the rain dripping from your wet clothes pooling at your feet as you lingered in the foyer.

“I-Is everything okay?” He stuttered out, though he already had a feeling of what this could all be.

But how did you find out?

Molly.

“No,” you muttered bitterly. “You know damn well that everything’s not okay.”

“I don’t understand,” Keanu lied, once again feigning ignorance even though there was no point in doing so anymore. “Sweetheart, let’s get you dried off first. You’re shivering, you’re going to catch a cold.”

“Stop it, Keanu. Just drop the act!”

Your chest heaved as you stared at him, letting the tears fall freely down from your eyes. Keanu cautiously approached you, his fear finally unfolding in front of him, and there was no way around it this time.

“Y/N, I need you to calm down…”

“No,” you shot back angrily. “I need you to tell me everything, Keanu. What exactly happened between us?”

Keanu froze, his chest tightening at your simple yet difficult request. He wasn’t ready to do it today, but he had no other choice.

There was no more avoiding, no more lying, and no more hiding.

This was it.

This was the end.

This was the goodbye Keanu dreaded. The long, dreaded goodbye to the woman he loved.

Part 11

Tags: @penwieldingdreamer @fanficsrusz @toomanystoriessolittletime @awessomness @meetmeinthematinee @ringa-starr @ficsnroses @iworshipkeanureeves @keandrews @greenmanalishi @feminine-machinegun @thehumanistsdiary @lussdew @rdjloverxxx @flaminasteroid @danceoftwowolves @ravenpuff02 @wheretheriversrunintothesea @allie1804-fan

#keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves x you #keanu reeves imagine

141 notes · View notes

dalamjisung · 4 years ago

Text

picture it ❊ kim taehyung

word count: 4905

genre: fluff

pairing: reader x kim taehyung

description: he could practically picture your future together... and you could write it.

You write about him everyday.

Not in a creepy way, though, but in a very separated, utopian way. Idealized, if you must. The problem isn’t you, and you are sure it also isn’t him, but the conditions– the situation. Every morning, before class, and surely before work, you head to the same small coffee shop, where your best friend works and where you have an honorary table, right in the left corner, next to the big window; this way you can both do your work and get distracted as people run by you without even noticing.

You think it is about four months after your friend started that he began showing up, first as a client, then as a barista. His ascend to fame followed quickly after; the cute guy that made the disastrous latter art. You think that’s what started this thing of yours– the writing; the moment he gave you your latte, boxy smile in place, and something that resembled a dying cat on top of your coffee. You chuckle, captivated by the pride shinning in his eyes. You write about that moment, later.

“First coffee that I didn’t spill,” He says, looking a bit embarrassed still.

“Congratulations,” You tell him, and it’s sincere. He should be proud of his work, even though you are now rethinking if it ever was a dying cat or if it’s just a very deformed smiley face.

You sit on your usual table and pull out your books, ready to start studying for the upcoming biology test. But then you hear it– a symphony of crashing ceramic and startled screams coming from the back. His laugh covers the noise as best as it can, but what’s done is done, and the very next day the boy is demoted back to his position as a mere customer.

He stands in front of you, ordering his coffee, while struggling to hold all of his materials– paint, camera, computer. The heavy objects weight him down enough that he can’t really move a finger to reach for his waller, or else everything would come crashing down, much like the day before.

“Just… just a s-second,” He says grunting with tired arms. “I can’t–“

“I’ll pay for him,” You smile at your friend, giving her your card. “And my usual, please.”

“Gotcha,” She winks and quickly moves, getting better and better at her job by the day.

“Thank you,” He sighs, now using a knee to help with the wright of his things, but struggling with balance. “I just… argh!”

His camera slips and you catch it just as it is about to shatter on the floor.

“Why don’t you go and put your things down on a table?” You say, laughing a bit. “I’ll take your coffee to you.”

“Uh… about that,” He smiles again, that same boxy smile as before. “There are no tables available.”

You look around, only now noticing how full the place is. “My table is right there,” You point to your backpack. “We can share, if that’s okay with you.”

“Thanks, Y/N!” He exclaims, and you are surprised that he knows your name. “Thanks a lot!”

When you take the beverages to the table, you’ve had enough time to build up courage. “So… how’d you know my name?”

“Your friend,” He points to the counter, without raising his eyes from his computer. “Talks about you all the time. Pointed you out to me once and told me exactly how you like your coffee.”

“Ah, I see,” You nod. “And what is your name, then?”

“Ah! Sorry,” He scratches his head. “My name is Kim Taehyung. I’m in the Visual Arts department.”

“That’s why I’ve never seen you around before,” You say. “I’m in the Biology department.”

“Biology?” He frowns. “I thought you were in the Literature department… you are always writing something on your computer, or reading a new book.”

You raise your brows.

“And how would you know that?”

“I notice you,” He says with not even an ounce of shame. “You come here everyday. So do I. It’s only natural.”

“Of course,” You chuckle, opening your book. “Only natural.”

——————————

After that small interaction, given that you two didn’t talk for the rest of the day while sharing a table, it is almost like Taehyung is suddenly everywhere. So of course, it is only nature, following his train of thought, that you’d start noticing him, too.

In the bowling alley, giving people their shoes, and then a month later with his friends renting a lane.

Then the bistro nearby campus, busting tables, and then a couple of weeks later on a date with a girl.

The bookstore close to your dorm is the place place you see him working, and you think it lasts a few months, since the opportunities for weird and extreme incidents are minimum. You first find out when you have to get a new textbook for your anatomy class, and as always, the professor put some on reserve, at the bookstore.

“You again.”

You look at him, behind the counter with his black rimmed glasses and boxy smile. His hair is longer now, even darker, and the ends that meet his cheeks and neck curve upwards. You don’t even try to deny his attractiveness, but there is something about Kim Taehyung that intrigues you more than draws you to him– maybe the clumsiness, or the boxy smile, or even the alienated personality; you are not sure, but you are willing to find out.

“Me again,” You smile wide. “You work here now?”

“Yeah,” He chuckles. “After getting fired from the coffee shop, the bowling alley, and the bistro, this was pretty much the only place that would take me in. All I have to do is stand behind the counter and put the money in the register… easy enough.”

“Well, can you also help me find a book I need for class?”

“Sure,” He nods. “Biology, right?”

“Ah, you remember,” You tease.

“Hard to forget when you are everywhere,” He rolls his eyes. “Human Anatomy?”

“Yes,” You look at his computer screen, making sure it is the right one. “That one.”

“Be right back.”

Taehyung disappears in the back and you hear a few thumps here and there, and maybe even a pained moan, but you let it slide. It is better to have books falling on him than sharp shreds of glass, you think, but why do you care?

“Here you go, Y/N,” He sighs, hair messy and, surprisingly, no smile. “That’ll be $67– $67?! Holy shit! That’s so expensive! Wah… no fucking way!”

And there he is… Kim Taehyung in the flesh.

“Unfortunately textbooks are always around that price,” You groan, pulling your debit card out of your wallet. “Here you go. Take my money.”

“Now I feel bad about this…” He pouts, but charges you nonetheless. “They told me to always thanks the costumer after a sale, but wow, I don’t think I can thank you for this… I feel like I just personally bankrupted you.”

“Nah, don’t worry,” You wink, grabbing your stuff. “This textbook just means that I’ll have to cut down on the coffee for a week or so. I’ll be okay.”

Just as you are turning around to leave, he calls you back.

“Or!” He shouts, and instantly blushes as your wide eyes meet his. “Or… or, you know, I could… I c-could buy you coffee. If that’s okay with you. And you want it. Coffee, I mean.”

“Coffee,” You echo, holding in your laughter. “Sure. I’d love coffee.”

“Awesome!” Boxy smile is back. “Tomorrow, then? Let’s say around 10AM?”

“Perfect,” You wave. “See you then, Taehyung.”

“Call me Tae!”

With that, you go home happy and giggly. You were getting coffee tomorrow, and you’re writing today.

——————————

“This is not charity, Miss,” He teases, before giving the drink over to you. Looming the cup in front of you, close enough that you could smell it, he continues. “I want a favor, actually.”

“And here I thought this was out of your pure and innocent heart,” You sigh, joking along with him. “Do tell, Mister, what could a humble peasant like me offer you?”

Trying to hide his smile, Taehyung sips his drink, eyes locked on yours, and you have to cross your legs, a but uncomfortable with how quickly your body reacted under his hungry eyes.

“In case you haven’t figured out yet,” Tae says and leans forward, holding his face with his elbows on his knees. “I’m a photographer. And every photographer needs a… muse. I want you to be mine.”

Choking slightly on your drink, you look at him, alarmed. “Muse? You want me as a model?”

“Please, Y/N,” Every single ounce of his sexy, mysterious façade is gone and he pouts, lips jutting forward in the cutest way possible. Makes you want to kiss them. “I desperately need a model for my portfolio, and I’m running out of time. I don’t have the money to hire a professional model, even though I tried to get it with the jobs and all, but… it’s impossible; I’m useless and got fired from all of them.”

You notice a bit of anger in his voice and tension on his shoulders and you can’t help but wonder what this happy, giddy boy hides behind laughter and playful remarks.

“Okay,” You nod, breathless with impulsivity. “Okay. I’ll do it. I’m sorry if I suck, though, but I’ll do my best to help.”

“Really?!” He smiles to wide that you just have to smile, too. “Oh my god, thank you so much, Y/N! You won’t regret it! Coffee on me, anytime you want it during a photoshoot, okay? Anytime!”

“Sounds perfect,” You say and point at his phone. “Would you mind if I gave you my number? I think that would be the easiest way for us to schedule everything.”

“Oh, y-yeah,” He also grabs your phone. “G-good idea.”

It is settled, then. You would model for Taehyung, and he would repay you with coffee, even though later you tried to make him give up on that idea, uncomfortable to have him paying for your coffee when you can do it yourself.

“No way,” He shakes his head and as fluffy as his hair is, it doesn’t distract you from what’s important at the moment. “I’d feel terrible having you do it for free, so the least I can do it feed your caffeine addiction.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” You deadpan, stopping in front of your dorm. “Anyways, thanks for walking me back… It got pretty dark, are you sure you’ll be fine?”

“Yeah, I live just a couple of blocks from here,” He looks tired; eyes sunken, with dark circle underneath them. He still looks beautiful, though. “I’ll text you when I’m home.”

“Please do,” You wave. “Be safe!”

“Yes, mom!”

Going inside, you rethink your decision; maybe this isn’t right for you. Modeling? You have no experience, or comfort, for that matter, in front of a camera. Usually you are the one in the backstage of everything, hiding behind a computer and a username so that you can post your stories online. What if you suck at it? What if because of you his portfolio ends up incomplete and improper? Modeling is a career and you are just not fit for it… but it’s a deal. You’ll have to pull through, and you only have one shot at it– so you better give it your all.

You ignore your roommate in the kitchen, and run straight to your room, calling the only person you can think of to help you in this desperate situation.

“Mom,” You breath out, glad that she picked up. From the looks of it, she had just gotten home from work, her face still covered in professional makeup. “I need your help.”

“Hi, my love,” She smiles and you just love how different this smile looks from the ones you see in the magazines. “What’s up?”

You explain everything; from how you met Taehyung, to how you started talking, to how you ended up agreeing to be his model. Her happiness is visible, and you are sure she is extremely excited about you trying out her profession.

“Ah, I like this boy, already,” She jokes. “He sees just how beautiful you are; like a model!” “I’m not you mom,” You sigh. “I’m not an international supermodel that is natural and cheerful and good at modeling.”

“But I can teach you a few things so that the camera doesn’t scare you,” She explains. “It scares me, too, baby. It’s not that easy…”

“I know, I know,” Taking a deep breath, you focus. “Teach me what I need to know.”

For hours, you work with your mom on posing, and relaxing, and focusing. She tells you about different photo feelings, and different lightening, and how the right tilt of your head, or look in your eyes is enough to dictate the mood of the picture.

“It’s getting late, Y/N,” Your mom yawns. “You should rest. I’m sure you’ll do great when it’s time.”

“Thanks mom,” You smile, eyes dropping with tiredness. “I love you.”

“Love you, too, baby,” And then she hangs up.

I can do this. I can help him.

——————————

It is around a week later that he calls you, in the morning, on a Saturday.

“Hey!” You groan in response. “Are you ready?”

“For what?”

“Photoshoot!” He practically shouts in your ear. “Now! The sun is perfect and we’ll get an amazing natural light.”

“Tae, why didn’t you text me about this yesterday?!” You cry out, running to your closet in look of anything decent to wear. “I just woke up! I look like a zombie!”

“You look beautiful all the time,” He chuckles. “Now get dressed and come down; and don’t worry about hair and makeup, my friend will help us with that.”

You are not sure what he means with that but follows his instructions nonetheless. In five minutes, you are downstairs in sweatpants and ponytail, ready to face what you are sure will be your biggest challenge so far.

“Y/N!” Taehyung is excited when he spots you; waving frantically and smiling wide. “Right here!”

Next to him there are two guys.

“These are my friends,” He introduces. “Jin-hyung and Jimin-ah!”

You feel a bit intimidated now, staring next to three incredibly handsome men and literally looking like you just rolled out of bed.

“Nice to meet you,” You try out, smiling shyly. “I’m Y/N.”

“Wah,” Jin sighs, looking you up and down. “She really is just like you said, Taehyung-ah… beautiful. I am confident that I chose the right outfits for you.”

You blush.

“Ignore him,” Jimin rolls his eyes. “Hyung is a huge flirt. I’ll be in charge of makeup, by the way. I can run some ideas by you, if you’d like.”

You four talk all the way to the park, where Tae wanted to start the day– after some coffee, of course. You get dressed in the public bathroom nearby and your makeup is quick and natural. As Jin sets everything up and Jimin tries to find some flowers for your hair, you pull Taehyung aside.

“Why me?!” You whisper, panic in your eyes. “Tae, look at your friends! They were born models!”

“Them?” He frowns. “Yeah, they’re pretty. But you’re different.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’ve observed you for months, Y/N,” He chuckles, cheeks getting redder by the second. “Trust me when I say you are exactly what I need.”

“Tae–“

“Let’s go!” Jimin shouts. “Everything is ready.”

It’s time. You take a deep breath, and close your eyes, thinking about all the tips and lessons your mom gave you for the past week; mood, pose, focus. You can do this. You have to do this.

“Let’s give it a try,” You sigh. “If I do anything wrong, let me know.”

Taehyung just winks at you, and the shoot starts. More than just guiding you, his voice starts to calm you done; the low baritone of his natural tone starting to sooth your insides, and not log after you notice you are actually having fun with them. They ask you to do ridiculous poses and you follow, laughing as you can’t keep your balance, or as Jin makes another dad joke. For a second, you forget that Taehyung is behind a camera, capturing your every move, and you think that he is right next to you; hand in yours, smiling and giggling with you. You break away from your daydream soon enough, trying to memorize it all to heart– you just have to write about this after. Actually, you are pretty sure you have, and all that happiness before seeps away as you recall your words. You can just picture it…

Big hands meet small ones, swallowing them, protecting them. There is more to the boy than his hands, but these are the only thing she can feel, the only thing she can touch– they scream for reality, proving something she’s been looking for for months… sanity. He grounds her, and she allows him to fly. Seems fair.

This was the last thing you wrote about him, and you wonder why; why did you start? Continue? Would it end? Would you one day stop?

What hurts the most is not knowing that one day he’ll simply be a fictional character in your portfolio; what hurts the most is knowing that everything you wrote feels true. As you got to know Taehyung, you’ve learned that your character Taehyung and the real Taehyung are incredibly similar… but you can only have one.

“Let’s take a break!”

Jimin is the first one to disappear, talking to himself about ice cream or something of the sort. Jin is next, when he spots a group of girls by the pond looking and giggling at him. Tae, however, stays; and walks to where you sit, playing with the hem of your long dress.

“What happened?”

“What do you mean?” You mumble, feeling tired and, now, discouraged. “Did I mess up?”

“No,” He chuckles. “You are doing great, and acting borderline professionally, but then you just… got sad.”

You freeze. “I don’t–”

“Do you know why I thought you were perfect for this project?” You shake your head. “You wear your emotions on your face, Y/N. It’s been like that since I first saw you… you looked calm and relaxed and I could practically feel it, too. You are an open book, to me, at least, and I can ready you so, so easily. I wasn’t looking for shallow beauty; I was looking for emotion. Raw. And you are it.”

“Taehyung,” You gasp. “That’s–“

“What happened?” He asks again, this time turning to face you. “Why are you sad?”

“I write about you.”

It comes out like a confession and you suddenly feel guilty.

“I am taking a creative writing class and it was right when you started working at the cafe,” You hide your face in your hands. “And I saw you and you looked so happy, and so unique, and something about you just seemed surreal. So I started using you as a physical model. But then I got to know you, and oh god, Taehyung, stop laughing!”

You are stunned by the choked sound you hear coming from him and when you notice him trying to hold his laughter in, you whine, hitting him in the shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” He raises his hands, openly laughing now, and trying to stop you from hitting him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, but… I kind of knew.”

“What?” You shriek, distancing yourself away from him almost as if touching him burns your skin. “How?”

“Your friend told me,” He admits sheepishly. “I had to press her for it, though, so please don’t be angry at her…”

“Press her?”

“I noticed that every time you were writing you kept looking at me,” He shrugs, with his stupid smug smile on his face. “So I had a guess. She just confirmed it for me.”

“This is so embarrassing,” You whine, getting up. “I should probably go, if we’re done here, right? Right… are we done here?”

This time, he is the one that whines. “You promised I’d get to buy you coffee! Let’s go get coffee!”

“Taehyung,” You sigh. “I am mortified right now. I think I need–“

“Coffee,” He insists. “You just need coffee. What’s so wrong about writing about me, anyways? I felt pretty good, to be honest.”

“Yeah,” You deadpan. “I’m sure you did.”

——————————

“Thanks for coming with me.”

You look at the boy sitting in front of you and you frown a bit.

“Well, you did promise me coffee,” You joke, but something in his eyes tell you that there is more to what he means. “What’s up with you, now? Don’t act all smug about it, I know there is something bothering you.”

“How?”

“Eyes,” You point at your and the his. “Your look sad. You say I wear my emotions on my face, well, you wear yours on your eyes. ‘Fess up, kiddo. What’s going on?”

“My parents think I suck,” He groans, forehead hitting the table. “At photography, I mean. They are farmers and they don’t really understand why I would study something so risky. I understand their worries, but it sucks. I just needed their support, right now…”

“Why right now?”

“I’m on a scholarship,” He sighs, finally moving to look at you. “And my final portfolio will determine if the school will offer me the scholarship again next year or if it goes to someone else.”

You almost spit your coffee all over his pretty face.

“Taehyung!” You chastise him, frowning. “You should’ve hired a professional model!”

“I told you a tried!” He defends himself, throwing his head back in frustration. “Not that you didn’t do amazing today, by the way. You should totally start charging after this.”

“I don’t think I’ll follow this line of work,” You winced. “Too tiring. My mom is a model and she is always working late.”

“Who’s your mom?” He asks.

“Y/M/N Y/L/N,” You smile, proud. “I called her for tips on how to model. She was really happy I was doing this.”

“Ah, I see,” He chuckles. “You actually look a lot like her.”

“I do?” You are surprised, to say the least.

“Definitely,” He winks. “Beautiful, too.”

You roll your eyes, but that is not enough to hide the blush blooming in your cheeks.

“Focus on you,” You say, looking at his sigh. “Do you think you have a chance?”

“After what I saw today?” He breaths out, smile back. “Totally. There’s only one part missing, anyways. We got most of it today.”

“Which part?”

“Self-portrait,” He gulps. “And I have no fucking clue how I will do this.”

“What do you mean? That should be the easiest part!”

“No, it’s always the hardest for me,” His eyes are intense on yours. “I have too many people talking in my ear… Taehyung-ie this, Taehyung-ie that, such a smart boy, making such stupid choices. Ugh! I have no clue what to do because I think I have no real clue about who I think I am.”

Well, this took a turn. You aren’t expecting him to be so open, so real, but he is and you feel it– the butterflies in your stomach. You know you’re done for when he looks at you and you have to look away. Goddammit Y/N, you think. Why’d you have to start liking him now?

“Everyone that told me their opinions of me are incredibly biased,” He squints at you, almost as if he is deep in thought. “But you know who isn’t?”

You just shrug.

“You.”

“No.”

You know what he’s about to ask you. Or at least you have a hint, and you don’t think you’d ever be able to face him if you did.

“Y/N, please!” He whines. “I’m begging you! You wrote them before you got to know me, so I’m sure that will be the most honest opinion of myself I’ll ever get.”

“It’s called self-reflection, Tae,” You chuckle. “Not Y/N-reflection. You have to figure out for yourself, love.”

“But you can help me,” He whispers, and for a second everything stops; his eyes, so lost and desperate, find yours and nothing but him seems to exist. Here is this man– this beautiful man– asking for your help to find himself. “Please Y/N… help me.”

You let your head fall on the table with a soft thud.

“When you put it like that it makes it hard to say no,” You mumble.

“That’s the point,” He laughs, and when you raise your head he’s already walking to the door. “Let’s go to your dorm.”

——————————

You pace around nervously, bitting your finger nails as Taehyung is sitting on your bed, laptop in his lap. It takes him a long time– or at least you think it does,– but when he’s finished, he has a glint in his eyes, something that looks like… is he crying?

“Tae…” You call softly. “Are you okay?”

“I just,” He sighs, rubbing his eyes and chuckling to himself. “I just never heard things like these being said about me.”

“Tae, I didn’t know you back then,” You try to explain, afraid to have hurt the sensible man. “Right now, I think you are so much more.”

“More?” He asks, and now you know what shines in his eyes. “I can be more?”

Hope.

“You can be so much more, Kim Taehyung,” You move to sit next to him, legs touching and shoulders bumping. “You can be anything you want.”

“Y/N,” He whispers, and his voice sounds strangled, contained, somehow. “Y/N, thank you.”

“For what?” His hand finds yours and you hold your breath as it swallows yours. Your mind wonders to the words on your computer and you force yourself back to reality.

“For giving me space,” His fingers dance on your palm, caressing your skin as if it is the most precious thing he’s ever seen. “For giving me hope. I’ve never felt this free before, and it’s all because of you.”

“Taehyung,” You smile, pulling him by the hand to look at you. “You’ve always been free. You just needed a push to fly.”

Nodding, your heads start to get closer and closer. With his hand in yours, warm and firm, he pulls you to him, lips finding yours with an unexpected hunger; a need beyond imagination. Beyond words. When the kiss deepens, you two are a mess of emotions; your body lays down and his follow suit, covering you and weighting you down, and you loved it. You could feel his presence, now; this is different then writing about him, then picturing him– this is real. This is warm, and desperate, and hungry, and caring. This is love at its rawest form.

This is us.

As his lips descend to your neck, you smile. Fingers in his hair and neck pull him back to you, mouth hot on yours, and you two talk without words; you see without pictures. It’s something that only you two understand, and you wouldn’t want it any other way. Both of you are free.

Falling asleep comes easily after you two settle down, whispering secrets and wishes to each other, arms and legs tangled like vines. He tells you about his family and his grandmother, and how, one day, he wants to be a professional photographer, one that tells stories of feelings and emotions and places and people. In return, he learns about your passion for writing, and how unlike him, you gave into your parents pressure and decided to study biology instead, hoping to one day be a researcher.

“It’s a form of writing,” You shrug, scooting closer to him, loving the sensation of his soft curls tickling your forehead. “And I kind of like it.”

“That’s what matters,” He kisses you again and that is the last thing you remember before falling asleep.

When you wake up, Tae is trying to balance his camera on top of your dresser, pointing at the bed.

“What on earth are you doing?” You laugh at his wide eyes and messy hair. He’s still wearing yesterdays clothes and so are you, remembering the comfort of his arms being too much to even change.

“I had an idea for my self-portrait assignment,” He smiles, boxy, true, loving. “And I want you in it.”

“Me?” You frown, confused.

He walks to you, calm and confident, and kneels down in from of you, body in between your legs, chin on your stomach. He takes a deep breath, kissing all the way up to your mouth, where he spends some time exploring, imploring.

“I’ve never felt more myself then when I’m with you, Y/N,” He pulls away. “This is the best self-portrait I can have– you and me. I can just picture it, us, two, three years from now, looking back at them, remembering the night we truly met each other…”

You just smile.

“Will you do it?” He asks, holding you r face in between his hands. “Will you help me?”

“Always.”

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

And with this fic, I officially open my multi-fandom blog to BTS fics! Wohoo! Taehyung is my favorite boxy smile, omg. I am so happy with this fic, though, and there is nothing like the accomplishment feeling that comes after finishing a story. As always, please let me know what you guys think :) Comments, likes, and reblogs fuel creators to keep going... I have also linked a Ko-Fi button on my page! Don’t feel obligated, but all donations are appreciated <3 Love you all!

74 notes · View notes

lovesouroboros · 4 years ago

Text

It’s Frightening to Meet The Person We Could Have Become

Tonight I met the girl who I am nearly capable of being. She arose from within me, she pushed me toward the flame. For a brief time, I was vengeful - angry, inspired with rage. There was a flicker, a moment in which I did not recognise myself.

Earlier tonight, I wanted to hurt someone. Not anybody - somebody specific. I wanted to make him feel pain, I wanted him to feel frightened. I wanted him to hurt the way he’d hurt others, the way he’d hurt someone I knew. I wanted him to be scared, the way that she was scared.

I thought it unfair that those who’ve been hurt have to cower while their abusers run free. While they drink at the neighbourhood bar, laughing with friends - the ones who’ve they’ve bruised sit alone, in another, hopefully safer place. The ones that they’ve bruised are still hiding, afraid.

I’d looked for him for a week before now. A few people knew to call me if he was spotted. Soon enough, there he was : on the corner, as if he’d never left. When the dust settles, the monsters crawl back beneath our bed frames. No one dares to stop them. I thought I would.

The call came - I prepared. There was a plan. There were pills crushed to powder, stashed in a tiny ziplock I’d nestled within my purse. I changed clothes - swapped my stained jeans for an expensive mini skirt, name brand. I wanted to look valuable, like someone worth breaking. I put makeup on for the first time in weeks - blush, lipstick, mascara. Looking in the mirror, I thought, “I am ready to kill this man.”

I laughed, but it did not feel like a joke.

I bring my puppy, Scar, to the bar. It’s counterintuitive and premeditated - there is an image to create. “Dainty Damsel totes Dime Sized Dog, falls Head over Heels for Dreamy Drug Dude.”

In reality, I don’t wear heels. It’s good - he’s not as tall as I’d imagined. The table next to him is free, and I feel him watch me when I sit down. I make a spectacle of myself, aided by the passerby patrons who try to chat me up. Not now, I’m on a mission. Today, I’m going to kill a man.

I thought he’d be more bold. I move around a lot, I give him something to comment on - drawing in a notebook, coloured pencils splayed about. I feel him watching me, but he does not speak. I “drop” an orange pencil on the ground and wait for him to return it. He does, but he does not inquire more - it is an act of good grace, no openers to follow.

An acquaintance from the neighbourhood enters - an older man, Jacob. I smile when I see him, and he joins Drug Dude and their friends. I did not know they were acquainted, and I am glad to discover the fact - it is to my advantage. I continue to play manic pixie dream date in the corner until Jacob goes inside to the bar. I wait a minute, then follow.

“Who is that boy you’re with?”

He smiles.

“It’s a long story. I’ll join you in a moment, I need a whiskey first.”

I am intrigued, returning to my table. It isn’t common knowledge, what’s happened between the boy and my friend. In fact, it is Top Secret Info. So what’s the story, too long to express without a drink?

When I sit down, I notice the boy is leaving. We make eye contact, but my courage fails me for a beat. What am I to say?

“Stay, so I can drug you!”

But that isn’t the plan at all. It has to be him first, I need him to hold an illusion of power. I let him leave.

Jacob joins me, now nursing his whiskey. He begins to tell me the story. This boy, he’s just come out of a horrible relationship. Truly violent. (So it is known, there was violence). More than being beautiful, he is kind, and intelligent. Jacob thinks there is a sadness within him. He tells me that the boy does too many drugs, but when he is not wasted, he is a wonderful soul.

Jacob is confident that I am shy, that I am tail between my legs nervous about winning over the Dreamy Druggie. He tells me that he think I’d be good for him, because I am kind, and I don’t drink, and maybe someone loving like me is exactly what DD needs in this moment. I swallow my saliva.

“In any case, he’s gone now. I was too nervous to say hello.”

“I know where he’s gone, I can give you the name of the bar.”

I pause, something strikes me. The feeling passes.

“Would you go with me? I don’t want to do it alone. You could introduce us.”

Jacob smiles again. He is drunk, and happy to play Cupid. I suspect that he is also happy that I’ve placed my trust in him - we were not friends before tonight. He throws back his whiskey.

“Alright then, let’s go.”

The bar isn’t far, about a 5 minute walk from the last one. Still, we have time to chat - and I let Jacob do the talking. He’s a photographer, and he tells me that he wants to take photos for DD’s portfolio. He tells me that DD doesn’t think he is beautiful enough to model - objectively, this is untrue. Apparently he’s told Jacob that his “teeth aren’t nice enough” to have photos taken. Jacob’s solution? Don’t smile.

The new bar is loud. From wall to pavement it is crowded with drunk and sweaty college students chanting in unison about the football match. “Karim! KARIM! KARIIIIM!!” To be there is to be exhausted.

My puppy is scared - she is either too young or too old for this nonsense. I tell Jacob I’ll wait outside, lighting a cigarette and projecting an air of disinterest. He returns quickly, DD in tow. Showtime begins. I am nervous once more.

“Asha, I’d like to present you to a friend of mine. This is Wren. Wren, this is-”

“Asha,” he finishes. My name sounds funny coming out of his mouth - heavier. His eyes are big, like mine. He holds my gaze, and for a moment - I think he knows what I’m up to. Then -

“Enchanté.”

“Enchantée, à toi aussi.”

Jacob is smooth, busying himself with someone beside him without looking like he’s fucking off to give me time to run game. Whether his smoothness is appreciated or not is unapparent, for Wren does not seem to notice his departure.

“Do you live in the neighbourhood?”

Already he is trying to trap me, pre-strangulation analysis. Does whether I’m local play a factor in where he’ll choose to hurt me?

“Two blocks from here, and you?”

I already know where he lives, but it’s nice to ask.

“A bit further, near the bar we were at before. Do you remember me?”

Freeze.

“Have we met?”

“We haven’t, but I’ve seen you many times. I thought maybe you’d have seen me, too.”

Narcissist.

“No, I don’t think so. I’m sure I would have remembered you.”

It’s a cheap line, but it works - he smiles.

“You have nice teeth.”

I’ve seen the bite marks they leave.

“Thank you. Would you like a drink?”

I shake my head.

“I don’t drink, thanks.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t like who I am when I drink.”

He pauses, studying my face. I don’t know where the words came from, they’re completely misaligned with my charade of innocence. Some part of me decided to offer its truth without consulting the rest, and I’m not sure which part of myself deserves a kick.

“I understand that. I don’t either, usually, but I’m not sure how to stop. It doesn’t make me feel better, but I already feel bad anyway.”

Now it’s my turn to pause. His words feel honest, and it disturbs me. My mother told me once that abusers will wear their vulnerability on their shirtsleeve, like a pin. This is how they keep the “poor me” narrative running, this is why we feel sorry for them rather than angry. I am in the process of reconstructing this knowledge into walls around me when he speaks again -

“What are you when you drink?”

What. Not who. What?

“Violent.”

“Yeah, me too. I don’t want to be, though. I want to be good for people.”

“Are you? Sometimes?”

He crouches down to sit crosslegged on the pavement. Immediately, Scar walks to join him, resting her head on his leg. Two against one, I join them on the ground.

“So?”

“I was thinking. It’s easier here. Yes, sometimes I am good for people. More often, some people are good for me. I try to learn from them, and it works sometimes.”

“What about when it doesn’t work?”

Wren winces, withdrawing his pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket. He pulls out two, offering the first to me. I accept, and he lights them both before speaking again. I inhale.

“Sometimes I’m too angry for anything to work. Except the people I’m angry with, they’re not around anymore. So the people who’ve stuck by me, they get my rage. It’s fucking backwards. I’m fucking backwards.”

I look up to the sky. It is night, but the sky isn’t fully dark - it never is. Light pollution shifts the black to blue, adding in a reddish tint. There are no stars to be seen.

“Why are you telling me this? Is this how you usually flirt?”

He shakes his head.

“I’m not flirting, I’m talking. Because I think you’ll understand me. You don’t need to flirt with people who understand you, there’s not a game to be played. Flirting is hiding. When I look at you, I see the same thing that I’m talking about in me. It’s in your eye, the left one : rage. But more than that, you are soft. I see you choosing to be soft. So I trust you, because for some people - it is not a choice. It is much more powerful to have the option to be wicked and choose not to be than to have been kindhearted all along. I am trying to choose that same power.”

“What stops you?”

“Exhaustion.”

I feel a sharp and sudden pain grip my chest, like a hornet sting to the heart. I reach my hand out without warning and grip his tightly.

I cannot explain what happens now, not properly. There are lights, flashes, a lifetime before me. My surroundings disappear. There is a chorus of memories that are not my own. I hear glass shattering and raised voices, I hear door slams. I taste blood in my mouth, my whole body aches. I feel drunk, distorted, disgusted, disgusting. There is a stained mattress, abandoned house, paint peeling. I feel myself making love to a woman, many women - my body is not my own, it is pale, it is Wren’s. I feel decades of tears rushing forward like a tsunami, pouring out of my eyes, filling up my mouth. I feel like I am being waterboarded with saline and screams, writhing and fighting to get out. Finally there is a climax, a tipping point - I manage to pull back, break free.

I am back on the street. Shaking, I look at my hands- they are my own once more. I look up to Wren and see his huge brown eyes, staring back at me. It occurs to me that I have just experienced every pain he’s ever suffered, and now I believe him to be deserving of love. It occurs to me that now, I think I may love him.

“Wren--”

He closes his eyes and places a hand up, stopping the rest of my words before they can meet the air. For a moment he is silent, pensive. Then, finally --

“Asha, did you come here to kill me?”

#tw: abuse #tw : domestic violence #creative writing #vigilante mode #nonfiction #creative nonfiction #essay #abuse #shadow work #magical realism #my writing #writing #writers of tumblr #short stories #short story #original writing #my fiction

5 notes · View notes

fictorium · 5 years ago

Note

Lemme take a chance that this very obvious combination may inspire more Supercat ficlets coz I’ve been dying with the feels you’ve been giving me lately. 22, 25, 40. Thanks so much!

22. “I don’t owe you an explanation.”

At first Kara assumes it’s another retreat in the mountains ‘diving’ situation. Cat Grant walking out on the White House is a big deal, but in a career like hers it barely breaks the top ten. Everyone speculates about what big move is next, including serious political commentary about whether Cat will run in the next election to unseat Baker.

Instead she just disappears. Off the face of the Earth, it seems.

Since she hasn’t been told otherwise, Kara ignores the chatter as best she can. It’s only natural that she reaches out by text and email to see if she can help spin whatever story Cat would rather have out there, and it definitely hurts when those go unanswered. Just a little. A totally normal amount. For two friends. Mentor and mentee. Former colleagues.

Which is all they are. Were. Can be. Kara’s sure about that. Mostly.

It would just be polite, in a civilized society, to reply to a person’s texts. Even if just to say that what Cat had planned next was less than zero of Kara’s business. Period.

It’s not like she’s mad about it. Anyway.

It’s only when the unthinkable happens almost three weeks in, when the media actually moves on from the Where Is Cat Grant story that they’ve been having so much fun with, that Kara starts to look at the situation differently. Cat can be guarded about her privacy for someone so public, but she usually leaves at least a trail of breadcrumbs to wrongfoot the paparazzi.

The reporter in Kara almost can’t help herself. She has access to almost everything she did as Cat’s assistant--surprisingly, most things on that front haven’t changed--and it only takes a few calls to former colleagues of Cat’s in DC to start picking up the first scent of the mystery.

It’s a mystery that results only in dead ends though, and Kara is so frustrated after days of working on it flat out that she gives in and uses her supersenses for the kind of lead that good journalism just isn’t providing. She’s out of practice and it wouldn’t work if Cat really had gone to the other side of the planet, but she must at least be somewhere on the West Coast judging by how quickly Kara picks up that familiar half-stutter in Cat’s every second heartbeat, the result of a faint murmur she’s had since childhood.

At first it worried Kara, because it sounded a little broken and almost like a warning, but she quickly got used to it working beside Cat all day every day. Now it’s a useful beacon in street after street of heartbeats, none of them quite right. When she does finally, almost frantically, track down that one elusive beat, Kara’s a little startled to discover Cat’s somewhere way out in the desert, with only a handful of other people anywhere nearby.

Kara checks property records and Cat’s accounts to see if there’s some new house in the portfolio, but it’s only tracing a sizeable payment in the thousands to something vaguely labelled on a statement as ‘wellness’ that Kara puts the pieces together.

She should leave it there, when she does. It’s not something she should intrude on. But there’s a website. Full of glossy words and promises and legally-watertight non-guarantees. Kara wants to throw up as she reads more and more of it, of seeing page after page that screams at her for being so far out of the loop, for not being around to see where this was all going.

And mostly, horribly, for being too damn late.

There’s only one thing Kara wants to do now, but the tiny chance of it is entirely dependent on whether Cat will even see her. It’s coming up on 8pm when Kara picks up the phone, and she just hopes that will be reason enough for her call to get answered.

* * *

At least when she gets there, to the mysterious sprawling ranch in the desert, Kara can see that it’s the height of luxury. That much hasn’t changed since Kara’s world flipped upside down over a week ago. The worst part has been not being able to tell a single soul, not even Alex, and the stress of that was only offset by Cat agreeing to see Kara. Today. In exactly 13 minutes to be exact.

Security is tight, but Kara has patience to spare as she goes through step after step to be allowed inside, to once again be accepted into Cat’s inner sanctum. The room that Kara is politely told to wait in is certainly a beautiful space, a courtyard of sorts with sunbleached white walls and the kind of sleek but stuffed garden furniture that costs four times what Kara’s actual furniture was worth, brand new.

There’s a small table with a pitcher of iced tea, so Kara pours a glass and downs it, pouring another right after. It’s distraction enough with the rattling ice that she doesn’t notice Cat’s approach.

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” is Cat’s opening shot, and Kara spins around at the sound of her voice.

“I’m not asking for one.”

“Good. And I don’t want a drink, before you offer.” Cat waves a sleek water bottle that she’s holding in one hand, a band from it around her wrist. “I haven’t been drying out in here for weeks only to come out addicted to sugar.”

Well that answers any number of questions Kara doesn’t dare ask. As rehab facilities go, it’s certainly five-star. This is the first day on Cat’s program that she’s been allowed visitors, and Kara is surprised she’s even there. It would be terrible to blow it, to have Cat throw her out before they even sit down.

“You look good,” Kara says instead, taking a seat on the large bench that dominates one wall. Cat considers for a moment, then joins her. She has large sunglasses in place, but there’s no evidence of makeup on her skin. Her hair has none of its usually immaculate style, and the blonde highlights have faded out to mostly brown at the roots. All the same, it’s true that Cat looks every bit as beautiful as Kara has always found her.

The compliment earns only a derisive snort, but Cat preens just a little, in her linen shirt and pants, loose-fitting and crinkled in a way that feels almost unbearably intimate; like Kara shouldn’t be present when Cat is so stripped back and vulnerable.

“So, you found me,” Cat says eventually. “We’ll make a reporter of you yet.”

“I’ve been nominated for a Pulitzer, Ms Grant.”

“Oh please, those don’t even count until your third.”

Kara winces at her own excitement, at how readily she’d believed she’d made it. Cat, to her credit, seems to notice that the words were a little too flippant.

“You can still enjoy the first two, of course. Now you’ve seen me for yourself, is that enough?”

“Enough? Cat, I came to see if you need anything. If I can help in any way. Here, now, or when you get out and come home. I’ve been researching addiction, and how best to support someone you care about and--”

“Kara, I’m not your problem anymore. You don’t have to manage me, or keep my life running smoothly. You’re... off the hook for all that now.”

“Did you not hear the part where I care about you?” Kara won’t let that be swept aside, not now. “You can be oblivious, Cat, but not that unaware.”

“And if you’ve done your research, you’ll know that relationships in the first year of recovery are a bad idea. Along with all the other reasons it’s a bad idea.”

Kara stands. She’s being shot down before she even gets going, and it can’t be that way. Not now.

“Do you honestly think I wouldn’t wait for you? That I haven’t basically been waiting for you since I walked into your office at 10:15 years ago? Do you think there is anything you could go through that would make me stop caring about you?”

“I have a lot to fix, Kara. Not least with my boys. Carter isn’t even...”

“I spoke to him,” Kara replies. “I know you’re not talking but I know he’s open to making that better, when you’re ready. And nothing I ever wanted for me and you would get in the way of that. We might only ever be friends, Cat, but I plan on being a good one.”

Cat reaches for her then, catching Kara’s hand and clutching it with her own.

“I knew you’d find me. Somehow, I knew. And I don’t deserve you, Kara, but if you’re really offering to be in my life again, I don’t think I can turn that down.”

“Then don’t.”

“We could go for a walk? In the grounds? They let me do that now.” Cat stands without ever letting go of Kara’s hands. “I can’t promise anything else, but we could start with that?”

“I’d like that,” Kara replies. “I’d like that a lot.”

#s1 nostalgia meme #supercat #kara danvers #cat grant #tw alcoholism #tw drug addiction #tw rehab #Anonymous

75 notes · View notes

veiledpeaches · 5 years ago

Text

chance encounters | part ii: i just want to be untangled

Summary: Between pages of meddling friends and societal expectations, all she actually wants is to find a happily ever after with Doyoung, even if it feels like that is no longer possible.

part i x part ii x part iii x part iv x part v x part vi

word count: 3.5k

GIF originally posted by @lukhei

Johnny’s laugh rings loud and infectious in her ears, and Haewon squeezes her eyes shut as the glare of the morning sun shines into the passenger seat. She had forgotten her damn sunglasses. They had left their apartment at barely eight in the morning, but the sun was relentless nonetheless. It’s still too early to think, and Johnny hasn’t even had his morning coffee but he remains energetic as ever, his pink aviators jovially perched on the bridge of his nose.

“He really said that?” He turns to pull down the passenger seat visor for her, “that the kid won because of how he looks?”

“There’s no way something like that could win!” Haewon mimics, “the emotions are too raw and the writing is too unrefined. He doesn’t even know his tenses!”

Johnny erupts into raucous laughter once again, “he’s such a literary snob! I swear, for someone who preaches about discovering young authors’ works and all that future generations stuff, he’s a hell of a hypocrite.” Johnny’s shoulders are still shaking from laughter as he shakes his head.

Haewon smiles, “well, he’s thorough.”

“That’s what makes him so attractive to you, isn’t it?” He turns to wink at her playfully, but his face falls into concern when he hears a long sigh escape from her lips as she sinks deeper into her seat.

“So how’re you doing there kiddo?” He’s deliberately being generic, but Haewon can tell what he’s referring to.

She inhales deeply, and then lets it go.

“I don’t know,” she replies truthfully.

“It’s a month and a half to the big day,” Johnny softens his voice, slowing down to switch lanes. “Doyoung told me you haven’t RSVP’d yet.”

They don’t say the word ‘wedding’ in their conversations anymore, not since they got their invitations in the mail and Johnny watched her sink into their couch, her shoulders bunched and jaw tightened. Because Haewon doesn’t cry – not sober, anyway – and Johnny doesn’t have the heart to ask her to let it out, knowing how obstinate and prideful she can get about her feelings.

Three years ago, in a conversation with Mama Suh, Johnny unintentionally found out that his childhood friend was planning a move to Seoul. Upon further probing, it seemed that she had left a difficult relationship two years ago and really needed a change of scenery. While she’s only three years younger than him, Johnny has always felt protective over the shy girl who likes to read and who used to live two houses down from his, and had reached out to her without qualms. A month later, a place and a position was ready for Haewon.

What Johnny wasn’t ready for, was seeing the look on her face when Doyoung dropped off some food from Mama Kim at their house – that expression that revealed that she had fallen too deep and too fast, before Johnny had told her anything personal about Doyoung.

“What would you do if you were me?”

“I wouldn’t go. You don’t have to do this to yourself, Haewon.” Johnny clucks his tongue, signaling a left turn to the driver behind. “He’s just your boss, you don’t owe it to him. Just make something up.”

That’s true, she thinks. After all, he’s just my boss.

And in a couple of months, maybe even something less.

Finding Doyoung in a sea of dark-haired, frustrated travelers isn’t easy, so Haewon is thankful when she hears his voice saying her name. She swivels around, and Doyoung is standing in front of her, hair down in a natural center parting with the biggest, silliest grin on his face. Haewon thinks he’s most breathtaking like this; his striking brown eyes and the slope of his cheek catching the light in the airport as he smiles handsomely, and Haewon can’t help but smile back. She doesn’t usually get to see him like this, in a green shirt tucked under blue ripped jeans and a white denim jacket pulled onto him, complementing his wide shoulders.

“I knew you’ll be lost,” he teases smugly, “you hate crowds as much as I do.”

She laughs, unzipping her bag to hand the file over to him. He looks through the documents quickly, humming as he counts the papers in his hand before stashing it in his Valentino crossbody.

“Will there be someone waiting for you at JFK?”

He nods, “yeah, the company is sending a representative. Don’t worry about me! I’ll see you next week…”

A familiar face catches her eye and Haewon thinks she sees Doyoung’s fiancée standing a few feet away from them, smiling radiantly at the person next to her. She’s surprised, finding something strange about seeing Inhee here but being unable to put her finger to it. It doesn’t register in her brain that Inhee was only supposed to be back the following Sunday until another figure steps into her line of vision and wraps his arm tightly around her shoulders.

Haewon’s feels her blood run cold. She vaguely hears Doyoung saying her name, but is unable to respond as she all but drags him towards the departure hall without a second thought.

He’s frantically asking her what is wrong, but Haewon can’t seem to hear him against the thumping of her own heart. She doesn’t want to believe what she had just seen, but the scene flashes in her mind repeatedly, each time clearer than the last.

“You can’t be late for your flight, boss!” She fakes a laugh, “I’ll see you when you’re back!”

Doyoung still looks befuddled and unconvinced, but he gives her a smile and wave as he enters the departure hall obediently, checking the time on his watch.

She watches his silhouette become smaller and smaller before he completely disappears into the crowd, her mind whirling with images. She doesn’t forget the way crippling fear had flashed in Inhee’s eyes as she watched Haewon pull Doyoung towards the departure hall, her lover’s lips still in her ear.

Doyoung hadn’t been interested in dating in high school, until he met Inhee in his last year. According to Johnny, Doyoung’s mindset towards high school had been different from many others. He saw high school as a transitional phase, a time to try out as many things as possible and fill up his portfolio with accolades before university. He was student body vice president, chief editor of the school magazine and a short distance runner on the track and field team. He was far too busy dealing with entrance exams and early college applications, until Inhee came into his life.

Inhee was the president of the dance club and obnoxiously popular, acknowledged for her good looks and good heart. And unlike his schoolmates, perhaps Doyoung would never have even given her a second glance at that point in his life, if she hadn’t slipped him her number after his event on their school’s sports day.

The first time Haewon formally met Inhee was three years ago on Valentines’ Day, a month after she joined Dam-il. Johnny had already informed her of Doyoung’s attached status, but she couldn’t put a face to the name – until Inhee walked by her desk with a big beautiful smile, all red Lancôme lipstick and smelling like Chanel, into Doyoung’s office and encircled her arms around his neck, planting a generous kiss on his mouth.

(“She kind of looks familiar,” Haewon had whispered to Yuta on the phone that day after Inhee had lowered the blinds around Doyoung’s office and locked his door. “I feel like I’ve seen her somewhere…”

Yuta had scoffed into his phone. “Like, on every, single, Korean Air poster?”)

Inhee is difficult to hate – this is something Haewon had quickly gleaned after a short interaction with her. Her beauty is dizzying, her confidence making her even more charming without making her appear conceited, and she takes care of Doyoung so well. She is constantly showering the office with late afternoon snacks, visiting Doyoung for lunch on days she doesn’t have to fly. And while she hates books and anything to do with writing, and they don’t arguably have that much in common, she has always supported Doyoung in his career to a fault.

Haewon wishes she could hate Inhee, but she makes him so happy.

(Sometimes, on nights she feels particularly petty, Haewon counts the number of compatible traits she has with Doyoung, comparing it to that of him with Inhee. Truthfully, she does this to comfort herself, wistfully hoping to feel less pathetic given the knowledge that these things don’t matter when they all know who has Doyoung’s heart.)

“You have to tell him.”

Haewon looks up from her plate in surprise, meeting Johnny’s eyes. After Haewon had blurted out what she had seen at the airport, Johnny had fallen awfully silent, concentrating on the road ahead of them and only asking factual questions. Haewon had never seen him so serious before, watching his expression morph from disbelieving to crestfallen as the news gradually sunk in.

It had taken four hours and a whole pot of fettuccini for Johnny to say something.

She looks at him for a moment, twirling the pasta with her fork and making endless bolognese sauce circle patterns.

“Don’t get me wrong – I think he should know. But you don’t think that would be overstepping? It’s not really any of my business.”

“I’m over it.” Johnny comments abruptly, until he catches Haewon’s judgmental look. “I meant the betrayal. I’m over it. She’s not my fiancée, I’m not going to invest any more of my emotions in this.

“But practically, have you thought about this? If she can cheat so close to the wedding, do you think she’ll stop even after?” Johnny’s voice is low and measured. “God, I’m so glad I RSVP’d no. I don’t think I’d have been able to stomach it, especially now knowing this.”

Unlike Haewon, it had only taken Johnny two days to respond to Doyoung’s wedding invitation, citing an emergency company conference happening in London. This hadn’t sat well with Doyoung, at least not according to what Haewon had overheard when she had reached home a little earlier that day.

(“Look, why on earth would I want to miss your wedding, Dons?” Johnny had been facing the living room window, his grip firm on the windowsill. “You’re- No, you don’t need me there, Doyoung, I am one person. You’ll have your whole wedding party there, all your high school friends and your entire family. You won’t even realize I’m not there.”)

Johnny has never been the biggest fan of Inhee – an opinion he has never hid from Doyoung since day one. While likening Inhee’s personality to an annoying yellow cartoon character, Johnny had been frank with Haewon about his inability to hold back from cringing at how extraneous, overblown and unnecessarily exuberant she is. To top it off, her fiancé happens to be practically Mensa level intelligent, while Inhee…

(“I was telling Doyoung about a new accounting system the company had decided to adopt, how I had thought that it was offered to us at a price that was too good to be true,” Johnny had recounted to Haewon at dinner one night, “and he told me maybe we needed to kick the tires on that offer first.”

“And she went,” Johnny had started to imitate her voice and gone up to a vocal inflection that was uncalled for, “oh, maybe you should kick the trunk too!’”

Haewon had almost choked on her dinner.

“I thought to myself, ‘what about kicking the bucket?’”)

The hilarity of his condescension aside, Johnny has always been at least respectful to Inhee, an implicit understanding of their respectful roles in Doyoung’s life at the forefront of his interactions. From her understanding of Johnny, she had been pretty sure that the reason he had given was legitimate, that he wouldn’t intentionally miss Doyoung’s wedding for any reason, but now there seems to be room for second guessing.

“I don’t know, maybe I misjudged the situation-”

Then she saw the look on Johnny’s face.

“Okay fine,” she picked at her food, “but I can’t ruin their relationship.”

“You’re not ruining their relationship; the relationship was ruined the moment she decided to cheat! You’re doing him a favor, you’re-” Then he realizes. “You’re projecting.”

“What?”

Johnny gnaws at his bottom lip, turning ideas over in his head. “You know what I’m thinking?” He continues when she doesn’t reply. “I think you want to tell him, but you think that the part of you who wants to tell him is the same part of you who’s in love with Doyoung.” He sighs. “That’s the real reason you can’t tell him, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but it’s not just that.” She takes his empty plate, scooping more pasta for him.

“The whole time we were in the car, and then back home, I’ve gone over so many scenarios in my head, of how this situation may turn out. The conclusion is always the same – he needs to know.

“I don’t need to be the person who tells him, but if I were in his position, I would want someone to tell me. Even if she ends it – which I really hope she does – it’s unfair to him if he doesn’t know that there was a time her heart didn’t belong to him. It is definitely cruel, but far less cruel than the idea of living in an illusion.

“It’s just that… I can’t think of a way to tell him without hurting him.”

Her phone rings, saving her from the conversation with Johnny, but his eyes are steady when he mouths to her “we’re not done” as she picks up her phone.

“It’s me.” The voice on the phone is quieter, gentler and wearier than ever, but undoubtedly belonging to Doyoung’s fiancée.

“Hi Inhee.” Johnny’s head whips up, his eyes widened.

“Can we talk?” She asks for them to meet later in the afternoon, then tells her that she would text her the details. Johnny has a resigned smile on his face when she puts down the phone.

“So it was her you saw at the airport.” He says lamely.

“Seems like it.”

“At the risk of sounding presumptuous, I’m just going to say what we’re both thinking – that if Doyoung had met you before he’d met her, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation. If he’d met you a bit earlier, she wouldn’t even have been an option.”

Johnny’s loyalty is touching, but not especially helpful in light of the present situation, when she’s faced with the quandary of meeting Doyoung’s fiancée at a café two hours later. Even across the street, she can see her perched against the window of the café, wringing her hands nervously. Her hair is brought up into a high ponytail today, and she looks stunning in a baby pink tweed dress and short white boots.

Inhee’s gaze meets hers as she crosses the road towards the café, pursing her lips together as Haewon smiles casually back.

“I got Americanos for both of us,” she blurts immediately when Haewon pushes the door and the wind chime tinkles brightly.

She takes a deep breath. “I’ve seen you drink cups of them every day.”

“Thanks.” Haewon pulls out the chair and takes a seat.

It’s close to a minute later before Haewon speaks again. Clearly Inhee isn’t going to broach the subject, but she refuses to either. “Cool nails.”

This brings a small smile to Inhee’s lips. “Thank you.”

The waitress arrives, placing hexagonal marble coasters down onto the table and then the drinks onto the coasters. Haewon sips on her coffee, looking at the way the patterns converge on the coaster.

“I won’t make this long, I have a flight to catch…” Inhee gestures towards the luggage sitting next to her, pressing her lips together. It doesn’t take a genius to know that she was meeting her thick-lipped lover.

“Did you… Did you tell him?” Inhee’s voice is softer this time.

Haewon looks up at her, watching flecks of fear dance in her eyes, and shakes her head.

Inhee nods her head and inhales, as if expecting this response.

“Are you… going to?”

She licks her lips and places the coffee back down onto the coaster. “I don’t want to, but yes if I have to.”

Inhee let out a laugh with an edge. “Of course you would.”

“What do you mean by that?”

She scoffs quietly, lifting her gaze slowly, her lips pulling back to resemble a scowl and her jaw tightening. Haewon had never seen her like that.

“You think I don’t see the way you look at my fiancé?”

Haewon swallows, unable to reply.

“Kang Haewon, I know that you’re in love with Doyoung.”

Haewon concentrates on her breathing, falling silent in favor of Inhee’s calculated monologue.

“You're not fooling anyone. You are constantly around him, you’re close to Johnny-”

“I’ve never tried to do anything.” It’s like a dam has broken, and the words rush out of her mouth before she can stop them. They’re not the wrong words, they just seem self-centered, like she’s attempting to justify herself when there’s a relationship independent of her that’s at stake.

“I’m just saying, don’t factor me into the equation. It’s always been professional. It’s my job to be around him, and when it’s not, when he wants to be around Johnny, I always excuse myself.”

There’s something cruel about being so self-righteous as the lips and hands of her boss’ fiancée tremble uncontrollably, but Haewon lets her words cut through. It feels like with every word, she’s slowly regaining the breaths that had been stolen from her all these years. She watches as something hard darts around in Inhee’s eyes, the same eyes that reflect her own rigid posture.

“He was attached even before I knew him, and passionately in love. I could never take that away from him-”

“You don’t think I know that you’re the reason Johnny isn’t coming to the-”

“You flatter me too much.” Haewon chuckles humorlessly, tucking strands of hair behind both her ears. “So is this why you asked to meet? Because if this is it, I would like to leave.”

She gets up from her seat, placing way too many bills that the coffee could be worth on the table before turning to leave, but stops short at Inhee’s next statement.

“Things haven’t been okay for a while now.”

Even as she sits herself back down, Inhee’s gaze remains far away from her.

“Doyoung works late every night. We hardly spend much time in the same room anymore. We don’t even talk anymore, about our lives and our work.” Something occurs to her, and she lets out a laugh somewhat verging on hysterical, “do you know we haven’t had sex in four months?!”

She looks at Haewon, like she’s searching for an answer she knows she can’t give her. And Haewon, she tells herself not to avert her eyes as Inhee squeezes her hands together. The whole scene feels vaguely invasive, bearing witness to the chipping of a stranger’s carefully polished veneer.

“You don’t need to tell me this-”

“I kept telling myself it’s wedding jitters, but…” Inhee bites back a cry, “I think he doesn’t love me anymore.”

She bursts into tears, shaking and crying into her hands. It’s like the glossy, rosy façade of the airline poster girl is slowly being lifted off, the remains of an embittered, desperate shell of a person sitting in front of her.

Haewon doesn’t know what to do, but can’t find it in herself to completely retract from the situation, so she pulls her chair towards Inhee, not even blinking when Inhee throws her arms around her and sobs even more mournfully.

“I know I don’t deserve to say this… but I just love him so much. I don’t want to lose him, Haewon, I’m so scared.”

“He’s my whole world, he has always been…”

It feels like hours later when she leaves the café, hailing a cab for a broken-hearted Inhee to take her to wherever she might want to go. She feels the tell-tale buzz of her phone in her pocket, knowing instantly that Johnny must have grown impatient of waiting for her update on this meeting.

But as she checks the notification banner on her phone, as her brain wraps around the curves of the letters forming the name of the email sender, her heart almost skips a beat.

Nothing, however, can prepare her for the first line she reads on her locked screen.

Congratulations! I am delighted to inform you…

w/n: last week’s update was intentionally postponed to this week; there will be regular posting (shifted to Saturday, 11pm KST) from now on.

also, I’m sorry for my long and sometimes convoluted sentences. i try my best, but we all know fic!doyoung would never give any of my work a second glance tbh. unlike the young author, however, i willingly apologize for my tenses.

28 notes · View notes

toalltheficsivelovedbefore · 5 years ago

Text

Blind Date || johnny

childhood friend!johnny x fem!reader • fluff, tiny angst, friends to strangers to lovers, mention of cheating (not between the characters) • Your best friend sets you up on a blind date, but when the date doesn’t show up, Johnny swoops in to the rescue!

“I already told you no.”

“C’mon, please? It’s just one date!”

“Yeah, you said that last month too. And a couple weeks before that. I’m done meeting strangers.”

Kara, your best friend, pouts, flopping backward onto your bed, so she’s looking straight up at you. Luckily you moved your laptop in time or she would’ve fallen on it.

“Please? I swear this’ll be the last one. Hyuck vouched for him! He’s really nice and super sweet. And he’s not even anyone’s reject as far as I know.”

You quirked an eyebrow up, eyes still focused on the email you’re composing on your screen. “Obviously he is, or he wouldn’t be single. And like I’m gonna trust your boyfriend’s taste in men?”

“Going through a breakup and being rejected on a first date are not the same thing.” She sits up, folding her legs underneath herself so she’s crisscrossed. A hand comes to rest on your knee, finally dragging your eyes away from your work. For the first time, you notice how concerned your best friend looks. Concerned and worried for you, but you honestly don’t know why. “YN, it’s been so long since you broke up with… him. You keep refusing to put yourself out there and let someone love you. And refusing to let yourself fall in love again.” She patted your knee gently before standing from your bed, headed toward the door. “Just one last date, and if it doesn’t work out, I’ll never set you up again.”

————

The date is set for a Saturday, and Kara happily helps you pick out the perfect outfit and decide on makeup. She drops you off at the restaurant and promises to pick you up if you need it. You’d agreed to meet him at the bar, and now you’re wondering why you didn’t push her for more info on the guy. You were going into this practically blind, while he knew your name, face, and occupation. But Kara trusted him, so you just had to trust too.

No one stood out at the bar, no heads wagging around to get a look for any newcomers, so you found two open barstools. Your butt claimed one, and your purse the other.

Ten minutes passed without anyone coming up to you, so you ordered a drink. Maybe the wine would distract you from the fact it looked like you were getting stood up. Or walked out on. That was really the thought weighing on your mind, so of course, you didn’t turn the bartender down when he offered to refill your glass.

“YN?”

Oh, thank god! With a smile plastered to your face, you turned to greet who you assumed could only be your date. But the smile dropped when you saw the tall man occupying space next to you.

He was just as tall as you remembered, maybe taller. And he’d filled out in the shoulders and arms. Even though he wore a dark button-up, you could tell he’d added definition to his upper body over the years. Not that you were checking. And you definitely weren’t totally entranced at the way he had started styling his hair back with gel, a single piece slipped out to rest on his forehead. That one strand of hair calling back memories of being teenagers and carding your hands through his shaggy, overgrown hair while you told him he needed to start using gel to tame it. Oh, and that grin on his face, that caused whisker-like wrinkles that had always made you laugh and poke his cheek.

This could not be happening right now.

“Johnny Suh, I thought you were living in South Korea.”

You didn’t mean for your voice to sound so aggressive, but it did, and that gleam in his eye was disappearing.

“I thought you had moved away too.” He just stood there, looking over you, the grin faded, but still smiling. Always happy. Usually anyway.

“I moved back a few years ago.” Johnny looked at the stool you had your purse on, obviously signaling that he wanted to sit. Your watch told you that you’d been here for 30 minutes and there was no sign of a blind date. So with a sigh, you removed your bag, and let him climb onto it. Or slide onto it rather.

“Were you saving it for someone?” He waved for the bartender, his shirt sleeve slipping down to show he still wore that silver linked bracelet he’d got when you were 15 years old.

“Apparently not.” Your glass was empty again, and you let the bartender fill a third glass while Johnny ordered. “When did you move back here? Or are you just home for a visit?”

A cool, easy smile splashed across his face. “No, I’m here permanently. About a year ago I got offered a job here, so I made the trek home.”

“What kind of job?”

“Photographer for a magazine.”

You nearly spit your wine all over his expensive looking shirt. “P-photography?” He looked over at you confused, handing you a napkin to wipe your chin, a nod in answer. “But you said you were going to school to be a doctor. We argued over that for so long and then you just—” You cut yourself off. No reason to dig back into those old emotions.

He nodded again, understanding perfectly where you’d been going. He’d always been good at that. “No, yeah, I was originally going to school for that. Make the parents proud kind of thing. But once I got there, I realized it didn’t really matter. My parents would be happy as long as I was happy.” You nod. “Yeah, you told me that plenty of times. So I changed to an arts university but stayed in Korea. I liked it there and I’d already started to make friends anyway.”

It’d been too late, but at least he had finally taken your advice.

You looked over at him. He was drinking from his bottle of beer, and for a moment you remembered being 16 and sneaking into your parents’ liquor cabinet to try vodka for the first time. Johnny had nearly thrown up, and you’d told him you loved him for the first time. Your face went red at that memory.

“You should’ve told me. I would’ve been so proud.”

Johnny’s eyes found yours, a sad lift to his lips. “I tried. You blocked me everywhere, remember? Not even your friends would get a message to you from me. I gave up trying after your parents told me you’d left for college.”

You wanted to hang your head in shame. All those years of friendship down the drain because you were too stubborn to unblock him on social media. It occurred to you that he was still blocked, no wonder you hadn’t heard the news he was back.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled. You’d never been very good at admitting when you’re wrong.

But his eyes perked up none the less and a grin found its way back to his mouth. “I’m sorry, what was that? What’d you say?”

You rolled your eyes. But a smile had crossed your face too, so you relented, just this once. “I said I’m sorry. For just ditching you back then. I should’ve been okay with the choices you made, even if they took—” You snapped your mouth closed real fast.

His eyes were nearly twinkling. “You’re not gonna finish that either? Nearly 10 years later and you still can’t admit that you cared for me?”

Brows furrowing, you turned to fully face him, a finger coming up to poke his chest. “I couldn’t admit my feelings? Are you actually being serious right now, John Suh?”

“You wouldn’t even tell me why you were so mad that I was leaving, just that it changed the future. What was I supposed to understand from that?”

“Are you saying that if I had told you I was in love with you, you would’ve stayed and gone to Northwestern with me like we planned?”

His face fell a little.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” You turned back to the bar, glad to have the break so you could take another sip of your wine.

You nearly jumped when Johnny’s hand brushed yours on the bartop.

“No, I wouldn’t have stayed. But we could’ve tried to work things out.”

You sighed.

This is not what you had signed on for. This was supposed to be a night out to meet a stranger and have a drink, not to open up wounds from the past. “Johnny,” you hesitated, took a breath. “I did tell you. I told you a lot that last year.”

His eyes went wide, mouth slightly falling open. “What are you talking about? When?”

A blush covered your cheeks. “Every time we got drunk and you kissed me.”

He looked like his eyes were going to pop out of his head. “What?” He pulled away, trying to think back to being 17 and 18 years old, getting drunk in your basement. Something seemed to click cause his eyes shut and he took a long swig of his beer. “I thought I made that up.” Another drink. “I thought I imagined the kissing and the confessions because I had gotten so drunk.”

You couldn’t help the laugh. With his eyes squeezed so tight, it was like he was trying to prevent them from falling out. “Nope, those were real. I thought you refusing to acknowledge or talk about it meant you didn’t actually feel that way.”

His eyes finally opened and he looked down at you, all soft and open and warm. “That explains why you had as much of a breakdown over it as you did.”

“I did not have a breakdown.” You felt indignant for all of 5 seconds before his eyes were calming you down again. “A tiny one, really. And like you said, totally justified. Mostly.”

He laughed then, and you felt like you could drown in it. You didn’t even know you could miss a sound so much.

Things were smooth from there. Johnny told you all about Korea and school, the friends he’d made, the jobs he’d worked. He told you about his two short, failed relationships, and about how he got the magazine job (“They liked my Instagram more than my portfolio!”). His parents were doing well, nearing retirement, and they were happy he was home (“My mom basically had a party the first night I was back, can you believe that?” Yes, you totally could.).

But then it wound around to you. You talked about school, how you’d decided to try California since you didn’t have a best friend for Northwestern anymore. You shared your horror stories from the part-time jobs you worked, and the excitement when you finally got hired as an intern at a publishing company when you’d moved back home after graduation. You’d worked your way up to assistant editor, and things were looking bright.

And then he asked the question you’d been hoping he wouldn’t know to ask.

“Now, I thought I had heard you were getting married.” You wanted to choke on your water. “But, no ring, you didn’t mention anyone, and you’re sitting at a bar alone on a Saturday night. What gives?”

A big sigh. You hated talking about this. But, maybe it would be nice to get it off your chest to someone who had never even known him and wouldn’t find some way to defend him. You gave Johnny a smile.

“Yes, I was engaged, almost two years ago. Things seemed good.” You shrugged. It wasn’t that you were sad about it, but the sting still felt fresh. “People tell me I worked too much and drove a wedge between us. Some people say they saw it coming a mile away. Which, if someone knows your partner is going to cheat on you, shouldn’t they tell you?” Johnny stiffened at that. You sighed again. “Some combination of us not being right, me working too many hours and not giving him enough attention, and him… not being ready to settle.” You looked over at Johnny, who sported a sweet frown and furrowed brow. “Honestly though, I don’t think we ever really loved each other.”

It felt like a boulder lifted off your shoulders. It was the first time you’d been able to get the words out. And you didn’t worry that Johnny would judge you.

His hand brushed over yours. “Why’d you say yes?”

“Cause I thought I had to. That’s what was expected of me after three years with someone.”

He nodded, but you could tell he didn’t really understand. Not that he needed to.

You let out a big breath and a giggle. The four glasses of wine were maybe starting to hit you now. But not too bad that you would regret your words tomorrow. “I don’t think I’ve loved anyone since you. You were the first boy I ever loved, and I don’t know that I’ll find someone worthy again.”

Johnny bloomed right in front of your eyes. His smile was blinding and his eyes soft, and you just wanted to bask in him for a bit longer.

But the bar was closing, and Johnny was offering you a ride home, and you accepted.

He walked you to your door, exchanged numbers, and promised to message soon so you could maybe have lunch. Before he could leave though, Johnny grabbed your hand.

“You know… I’ve never loved anyone but you either.”

His goodbye was a kiss to your forehead and a shy wave as he headed for the stairs.

————

You hadn’t even unlocked the door yet before Kara was calling. Her voice seemed exceptionally loud after the quiet goodbye from Johnny just a moment before.

“So? How was it? Did you have a good time? He’s cute, right?”

You laughed, sticking your key in your lock, and pushing your door open with your shoulder, just a bit wobbly. “He never showed.”

“What? What are you talking about?” She sounds absolutely scandalized. You’re sorry to ruin your friend’s (and her boyfriend’s) perception of this guy, but you weren’t going to lie to spare her feelings.

“He didn’t show up. I sat at the bar waiting for him until I was joined by an old friend. I kept an eye out, and no one ever came looking for me. Maybe you didn’t show him a good enough picture and he couldn’t recognize me.” You shrug even though she can’t see. Your shoes are kicked off by the door and you reach around to try to wiggle the zipper of your dress down.

“That—that doesn’t make any sense, YN.”

“I’m sorry babe, but that’s the truth.”

“But… YN he just told me he had a really nice time.”

You froze in the middle of your room, dress dropping from your shoulders. “What? But I didn’t talk to anyone else.”

“I swear. He texted me that he’d found you, that you shared drinks, and that you talked for hours.”

The both of you sat in silence for a moment, trying to process exactly what was happening.

“What’s your friend’s name? The guy you set me up with. You never told me his name.”

“His name is Johnny Suh.”

The noise that escaped you was halfway between a laugh and a sob.

“YN? Are you okay?”

“Hah, um…. I don’t know.”

“C’mon, talk to me. What’s going on?”

You ran a hand down your face, feeling hot and cold, and a little bit agitated. It would be just like him to pull something like this. “That’s who I was with. That’s my childhood friend.”

“Really?!” You pulled the phone away at her shrill voice. “Why didn’t he say anything? He recognized you? Why didn’t he say anything to me? I don’t understand...”

You laughed this time, finally moving toward your dresser to pull out pajamas. “Yeah, well that’s John Suh for you. He’s quite the enigma.”

She’s quiet, thinking over something quite hard. “What do you want me to do?”

“What do you mean?” You drop onto your bed, pulling your laptop open to search for his profile on your social media site. You’d got his number tonight, it was probably time to unblock him.

“He messaged me earlier, asking to set the two of you up for another date. What do you want me to do?”

You’d found his account. His profile picture was of him and his mom, and you couldn’t help the little smile that came to your face. After all these years, Johnny had been able to maintain a spot in your heart. Maybe you could give him the second chance you’d both been craving for so many years.

Even though the dork had just promised to set up a date while asking your best friend to do the same thing.

You let yourself smile more widely at the thought. “Yeah,” you said, closing your laptop and shoving it away. “Set us up.”

MASTERLIST

#johnny #nct johnny #nct #nct au #nct fanfic #johnny suh #suh johnny #johnny seo #seo johnny #johnny fluff #johnny drabble #fanfic #au #toalltheficsivelovedbefore

127 notes · View notes

im-actually-ok · 5 years ago

Text

Welcome To Gravity Falls

Chapter 1

Next (coming soon)

Fandoms: Gravity Falls, Sanders Sides (Human Au)

Ships: None (Yet)

Word Count: 1593

Warnings: Like one swear, (I think that’s all, let me know if I should add anything!)

________________________

“Remind me why did I let you guys talk me into this again?” Logan asked, staring out the window of the plane.

“A little fresh air is going to do you some good, Microsoft nerd. It’ll be good for you to get away from the city, you were working yourself to death!” Roman threw his hands in the air for emphasis, the close quarters made it so he bumped Logan with every movement.

Logan rolled his eyes at his over dramatics, “And you really believe the best way to spend our summer was in a small nowhere town in the middle of Oregon?”

“Well,” Patton stated, “I’ve heard that it’s a nice little town, I actually have a friend there, that’s why I chose it, she’s gonna meet us when we arrive!” He gave Logan a small smile in an attempt to cheer the other up in some regards, but he just sighed and went back to staring at the land below.

Logan Wilbert was not the most adventurous young man, by any means. But here he was, stuck on a plane with three other crazy teens on a flight path to a small town in Oregon. He was nervous, to say the least, having never traveled with friends before. A week ago, he had planned to fill his summer break before a senior year with internships and part-time jobs and compiling his college portfolio. But all that changed when Patton’s ‘friend from Oregon’ suggested they come and visit and stay for the summer.

He closed his eyes, resting his head against the cool glass of the window. ‘Four weeks’ he thought, ‘four weeks until we can go home, only four weeks’.

It was going to be a long four weeks.

Roman woke him once they had landed, confirming that he had, in fact, slept through the entire plane ride. After another hour of waiting and picking up bags and more waiting and finding their way through the airport and more waiting, they finally were able to catch a cab that took them to a bus stop where they waited another hour before arriving at the outskirts of the town.

Roman groaned loudly, dragging his luggage on the ground behind him, “I am not looking forward to doing this again when we leave,” he huffed.

“Quit whining, we’re almost there,” Virgil said, rolling his eyes.

Patton slung a backpack over his shoulder with a small grunt before saying, “Now I know we’re all exhausted, but my friend should be here soon to show us the way into town, I’m sure it’s not too far a walk!”

“Yeah, alright,” Roman sighed, dragging his bag over to the side of the road to sit on while they waited. Virgil, Patton, and Logan soon followed his example and did the same. They sat there for a while, trying to find things to keep them busy while they waited.

Logan took off his glasses to rub his eyes, trying to fight off the growing headache that was soon to arrive. He only opened his eyes when he heard it. A soft rumbling sound coming from the forest that lay behind them.

He turned towards the trees, squinting in the dim light of the setting sun to try and catch a glimpse at what he had heard. Standing, he moved closer to the line of trees, slowly approaching the sound.

“And where do you think you’re going, pocket protector?” Virgil asked with lidded, exhaustion taking over. Patton had fallen asleep on Virgil’s shoulder and Roman was stretched out over his, Patton’s, and Virgil’s bags, snoring loudly.

Logan glanced between Virgil and the forest, “I just, I think I heard something. I was going to check it out.”

Virgil sighed and mumbled out, “Just don’t get yourself killed,” before falling asleep against Patton’s head.

Logan whispered, “I’ll try,” before slipping into the line of trees.

__________________________

“How do you know these people again?” Dipper asked as they walked the road to the bus stop.

“Well,” Mabel started, “I met Patton when I was in Florida for that Sev’ral Timez concert, remember? After the concert, he introduced me to his one friend who was at the concert with him and I introduced him to Candy and Grenda! We all hung out the rest of the time our time in Florida and we’ve been pen pals ever since!”

Dipper sighed, rubbing his arm, “And you invited them here because?”

Mabel elbowed Dipper in the gut, “I invited them because they needed a place to get away from it all. Patton had told me how overworked and pent up his one friend was and that he was trying to find someplace to go for the summer to ease up the tension before their senior year! Plus, from what I’ve heard I think you’ll get along with him, Patton’s told me he’s a bit of a nerd like you.” She laughed and Dipper rolled his eyes.

She glanced at Dipper, just long enough to see the worry in his eyes, “I know you’re nervous bro bro, and I know Gravity Falls has been ‘our place’ since we were, like, thirteen. But it’s only four weeks, ok? Plus, I think it’ll be fun!”

He sighed before giving up a little smile, “Yeah, ok,”

“That’s the attitude!” She said, shoving him with her shoulder. He staggered back a bit, but smiled and shoved her back.

They talked as they made their way out to meet the group, but as they approached their destination, Dipper stopped. His eyes fell on the trees and what lied beyond them.

“Mabel, did you hear that?”

By now Mabel was already a little ways ahead of him, “Hear what?”

He didn’t respond, he only looked out into the darkness of the forest, “I’ll -- I’ll be back, you go meet the group. I’ll catch up with you, Ok?”

Mabel sighed, “Alright, go chase your monster ya dork, I’ll see you later.”

He gave a small laugh, “Thanks, Mabel.”

“Yeah, yeah, just go before I change my mind!” She smiled at him, waving a hand towards the trees as she watched her brother disappear into them.

He followed the slight sounds and crunching noises of the leaves and twigs into the forest before hearing and feeling the familiar rumble of a passing herd of manotaur. He turned his head in the direction of the rumble only to find what he had first heard.

There, in the clearing, there was a young man, around his age, crouching on the forest floor, his hand pressed down to the ground, feeling the vibrations of the herd as they steadily increased. The man had dark brown hair and wore a collared dark blue shirt that was rolled up to his elbows, his brown eyes were sharp behind his square-framed glasses.

As the manotaur herd drew closer, he watched the man stand, squinting in the direction of the herd, trying to see what was coming. He watched the man’s eyes widen as the first manotaur came barreling towards him, missing him by a few feet. The man stood, paralyzed, as the herd charged towards him.

______________________________

Logan couldn’t believe his eyes. Bull like humanoid creatures were running at him and he felt like he couldn’t move -- like he couldn’t breathe. He watched in horror as the herd charged at him.

He barely processed when he was knocked off his feet, hitting the ground outside the small clearing with an ‘oof’. He watched the strange creatures pass, and when they were gone and the rumbling had stopped, he took the time to acknowledge the body on top of him.

Their heart was beating rapidly and their breathing was heavy. They rolled off of Logan and stood, brushing their clothes off before offering Logan a hand.

“You ok?” Logan just stared at the young man second before taking his hand. The man who had saved him was a little shorter than Logan, with light brown poofy hair trapped beneath a blue and white baseball cap. He was wearing a light orange t-shirt with a dark blue vest, his brown eyes lit up in the newly shining moonlight.

“Uh,” Logan found he was at a loss for words, which was very odd indeed, “Y-yeah, I’m ok, I think. Um, What was that?” He asked pointing towards where the bull creatures had come.

The boy ran a hand through the bit of exposed hair from under his hat, “Oh, that’s just a herd of manotaur,” he stated quite matter of factly.

Logan stared at the young man in front of him for a minute before saying, “Just a herd of manotaur, is that all?” He laughed, running a hand through his hair before turning and punching the tree behind him.

“OW FUCK!” he exclaimed, clutching his hand, before turning back to the other, who was now backing away a bit and eyeing him worriedly, “That rules out the possibility of this being a dream, ok, what the hell?”

The man laughed, “Nope, not a dream, I assume you’re not from around here?”

“Is it that obvious?” Logan asked, rubbing his sore hand, “Say, do you know how to get back to the main road from here? I think I got a little turned around when the, um, manotaurs, came through?”

He smiled, “Yeah, sure, I was heading that way anyway!”

Logan stuck out his hand to the man, “Logan Wilburt, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

The other awkwardly took his hand to shake it, “Dipper Pines, welcome to Gravity Falls”

__________________________

Thanks for reading! I’m hoping to come out with the second chapter soon but who knows. If you want to be tagged for when the next one comes out, either comment or leave an ask in my ask box! Thanks!!!

#my writings #my writing #because i can #sanders sides #virgil sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #gravity falls #dipper pines #mabel pines #crossover #welcome to gravity falls #sanders sides fanfic #gravity falls fanfiction

17 notes · View notes

fifteenleads · 4 years ago

Text

an accident of luck

Written for @thesuccessorchallenge 2020. (Theme: Spark).

AO3 | FFNet

Once upon a time, there was a princess asleep in a tower in outer space, waiting for her prince to come rescue her and wake her with true love’s kiss.

This isn’t that story.

Squall regards the latest entry in the literary section with much distaste. It is one thing to be subjected to such saccharine drivel once every week; it is another thing to have to beta-read such saccharine drivel before its publication, then still have to be subjected to it anyway over morning coffee that same week.

He really should have accepted the scholarship Garden had offered to him back then— he would have been an elite rank SeeD by now, going on missions around the world, maybe actually even saving said “princesses asleep in outer space towers,” if he were luckier.

Scratch that; it is Zell who cares more about these things; he has always been the more romantic between the two of them, by far. Squall would describe himself more as pragmatic, if anything, as long as it puts food on the table and pays the bills. He didn’t summarily reject life as a rich bachelor for nothing, after all— he wanted to prove himself, and his father was only too happy to let him when he had asked. “Expand your horizontals, my dear son,” were Laguna’s exact parting words to him the day he moved out and never looked back.

For the dear life of him, Squall could never fathom how on earth his father had managed to become CEO of Galbadia’s largest multimedia outlet with questionable command of language and grammar, but he set that aside in favor of a wordless, tacit understanding and gratitude that he is, at least, a proper parent in most other aspects, all things considered. Life as a single parent is hard, and Squall did his part to help make life easier for the three of them. Once Ellone got married, however, those nagging thoughts of gaining some measure of independence for himself reared its ugly head, and he finally decided to act on them.

And look how that has gone now, he bites back a grumble as he finishes his breakfast and returns the magazine to the top of the pile. Next week’s issue is due today, and he wishes he had added that double shot of espresso to his tray when it had been offered to him.

In his utter confusion on his way out, Squall does not notice where he is going and literally crashes into someone else, spilling their hot coffee all over the front of his shirt. Double espresso, he immediately recognizes the taste as he licks what had splashed onto his lips— not at all how he wanted to get his caffeine on a stressful morning, really.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” comes the hurried apology, as the lady brings out a handkerchief and some wet wipes in an attempt to at least blot out the coffee stains. It makes Squall pale in mild embarrassment, both for the ruckus they have caused and for having caused said ruckus in the first place— a “double yikes,” as Laguna would have called it.

“I-It’s fine,” he momentarily stumbles on his words, because for some reason, the space between him and the lady has all but disappeared, and the distance between their foreheads as she looks up into his eyes has his heart skip several beats and his breath hitch for longer than he is comfortable with. A light, floral scent permeates from her clothes, which, along with the strong scent of roasted coffee, unexpectedly assaults his nose all at once, and he suddenly sneezes with all the force of an enraged Marlboro charging in for the kill.

Luckily, Squall had the presence of mind to turn his head aside before that happened; years of having allergic rhinitis had trained him well for these moments. The mild embarrassment he had at the beginning increases by tenfold, and he is sure that the pallor on his face has already morphed into a deep flush by now. The lady quickly clambers off him, looking aside, too, just as awkwardly, clutching her stained handkerchief close to her chest. A few people have already started to gather in the hallway, albeit maintaining a respectful distance from them both.

“Sorry,” he mumbles weakly as he takes the lady by her wrist and quickly leads her away from the onlookers, potential gossip be damned. Not how he wanted his morning to go at all, but he’ll deal with the consequences later. For now, a trip to the washroom is in order— separately, of course.

“I know that was only an accident and all, Leonhart, but this will be hard to explain to HR when they come breathing down our necks in the next audit,” Quistis admonishes him, rubbing her temples in a circular motion; she tends to get migraines when she is stressed— and for her, that would be all the time. She never addresses him by his surname, still, despite that. For her to do so now means either she is thoroughly done with the incessant calls inquiring about the incident, or he has messed up big time— and for Squall, both mean the same thing.

“They probably won’t, Quis,” the lady reassures with a teasing but flippant tone; she hasn’t stopped sniffing at her coffee-stained clothes in the laundry bag, of which Squall is holding an identical one right now. They have been given a couple hours leave on the clock to deposit the items at the laundromat across the street, just to get things over with. Benevolent bosses are always a blessing in every single job and field of work.

Quistis sighs at the probably-unwanted nickname. “Look, Ri- Juliet, you’ve barely started working here. You have no idea how fast HR updates itself on the rumor mills, especially in the News Department and in ours,” she explains, giving Juliet a pointed look as she does. Squall could only fathom the depth of the undue stress the morning’s incident has brought Quistis now, and she doesn’t deign to hide it behind her shiny spectacles, either.

Juliet only shrugs her shoulders in response as she rises from the couch. “Nah, they won’t,” she repeats herself, this time with more confidence, as if she already knows all of this like the back of her hand. “It’s an accident, like you said; they’ll probably send a written inquiry, at most, and the Good Sir Leonhart and I need only submit our written responses in, like, twenty-four hours. An easy thing for writers, really. Right, Good Sir Leonhart?” She nudges his side with an elbow, as if prompting for moral support.

Too close, again, Squall thinks, resisting the temptation to facepalm, like he is wont to do in ridiculously awkward situations like this. A “Whatever” does slip out, though, before he could stop himself. It makes Juliet groan indignantly in response, and she strongly pinches the outer edge of his arm, eliciting a surprised yelp from him as he yanks his hand away and takes a couple of steps back. “What the hell?”

Juliet merely sticks her tongue out at him, pulling at her lower eyelid with a thin finger as she does, like an overgrown child bullying at the playground. “That’s what you get for being a big, fat meanie, Good Sir Leonhart,” she crows triumphantly, and Quistis only buries her head in her hands at her desk in sheer frustration. This incident is what HR should send a written inquiry for, Squall thinks to himself wryly as Juliet stalks off with her laundry bag, but not before turning back at the door and sticking her tongue out at him again, this time with a blowing sound. He does a facepalm for real this time, tiredly taking Juliet’s place on the couch before Quistis’ desk.

“Quite a handful, isn’t she,” she observes with a smile, making Squall raise an eyebrow in inquiry. Decidedly in a slightly better mood than earlier, Quistis nods at him, beckoning him to come closer. She slides a thin folder to him across the desk— probably the next article to look over for the day. Next week’s issue is due today, after all.

What greets him instead is a CV and portfolio of one Juliette Heartilly, new writer for the Creative Department of their small publishing company, and apparently, his new partner.

“I meant to send for you this morning, but the CEO suddenly called all the department heads for an emergency meeting earlier,” Quistis explains in that same level tone of hers— that is, when she is about to deliver bad news, which for Squall, is most of the time lately. “You will be editing for Juliette, too, starting the issue after next week. As you can see, she has her quirks, but I imagine you won’t have a problem working together, seeing as you both have excellent work ethic and the output to show for it. Do you have any questions so far?”

“I don’t even know where to begin.” To hell with brain-to-mouth filters for today; he hasn’t had his morning coffee, and is therefore not awake enough to play nice yet. Luckily, Quistis understands that part of him very well, over the ten months now he has been working with her. She cradles her chin in both her laced fingers and smiles, as if prompting him to speak now or forever hold his peace. It is a smile that has unnerved many of the Department’s employees when they are at the receiving end of it, and as ashamed Squall is to admit it, he, too, finds it uncomfortable.

“I’ll send an email to you when I think of one,” he decides on saying instead. He needs a few hours to himself to process this weird turn of events first before he ends up doing anything stupid again, like spilling someone else’s coffee all over his shirt— something that, speaking of which, he has to replace sooner than later. He makes a mental note to pass by the fancy café two blocks over after depositing his clothes at the laundromat.

Mind made up for now, Squall nods at Quistis for additional measure, taking the folder with him. Her smile changes to one of warm approval, and she courteously dismisses him with a wave and an encouraging “good luck, Squall”. She does not say “with her”, but Squall hears it anyway as he takes his leave from the office, feeling his steps grow heavier yet lighter by the second. It was definitely a nonsensical way of putting it, but it is how he feels at the moment, and he won’t deny it for now.

He hopes nothing else will happen anymore; he’s had more than enough excitement for one day, and he still has next week’s issue to look at later this morning. Maybe he’ll get himself that double espresso on his café run, too, while he’s at it.

It turns out Squall needn’t have bothered with deciding what pastry goes well with brewed coffee on a chilly morning. He watches quietly from his place in the line, two customers back, as Juliette points excitedly at a pistachio muffin and another item he couldn’t identify except for the generous cheese on top. It feels as if fate is playing a ridiculous trick on him for some reason, having them both run into each other for the third consecutive time that day, now, and at very close intervals, too. It hasn’t even been half the day yet, and he is already decidedly exhausted.

“That will be one hundred gil, ma’am,” the cashier rings up the total amount, and Juliette happily slides over a silver-plated card on the counter. Squall lets his mind drift off again as he waits for the transaction to be finished, secretly relieved that he need only buy the coffee now. There are only so many things he knows about fancy food, despite having been raised in a relatively fancier household than most others. Their family did appreciate simple music and art, though, spending time every week in their small studio as Mom played (and bungled) piano pieces by their collective favorite singer, Julia.

Now, where has he heard that name before, Squall wonders for a moment.

His thoughts are promptly cut off by a small incident at the counter area. “W-What do you mean my card’s been declined?” Juliette stammers, her entire face pale as she picks back up the card, hand trembling ever-so-slightly. “I haven’t even reached half of my credit limit for this month yet,” she defends herself, her last few words ending with a raised intonation, as if she were asking a question instead. The cashier looks at her with genuine sympathy, but says what he has to, anyway: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we’ve already tried swiping your card twice on both portable terminals; your card really has been blocked for some reason. Would you like to pay for your order in cash instead?”

“A-Ah, right.” Juliette fumbles at her wallet, nervously counting the remaining bills and coins one by one on the counter top. The small ruckus has the people behind Squall tapping impatiently, with one grandma even mumbling something about “stupid, spendthrift young’uns spending beyond their means” in a decidedly snide tone Squall didn’t care for at all, both because of its ill timing and its utter insensitivity. Juliette may have struck him as weirdly eccentric in more ways than one, but she is definitely not stupid, and certainly does not deserve such comments thrown at her.

So he decides to take matters into his own hands, swiftly cutting to the front of the line and sliding his own card onto the counter before Juliette could finish counting her money. A cursory glance at the small pile reveals that she is still around twenty gil short, despite how bulky her wallet had seemed to be at the start. The cashier, wearing a face that is between startled and starstruck, lets her eyes frantically wander around as she fumbles around for the right words, but Squall gives her a pointed look before she could even so much as open her mouth. “I’ll pay. Add two double espressos to-go, as well. Make it quick.”

The manager, having heard the small ruckus from the inside office, quickly steps in for his terrified employee, and wordlessly rings up the orders in an instant. “Go prepare their food,” he calmly instructs, and this brings her back down from her jumpy episode. She then proceeds to the back and helps wrap up the pastries while the barista there prepared the coffee. The transaction goes smoothly this time, and Squall quietly takes Juliette with him to the waiting area, just like that.

“... You didn’t have to do that, Good Sir Leonhart,” Juliette says in a small voice, twiddling her thumbs in a restless manner. Her hunched form and bowed head lets her hide her eyes behind her loose hair, and for once, she is very different from the playful and confident woman that she was back in Quistis’ office. “A woman’s heart is a deep ocean of secrets,” Laguna had quoted an old movie to him a few years back, in one of the rare moments he has gotten his metaphors right, for once. It makes Squall smile a little, to this day— a good thing Juliette doesn’t see it, lest she starts teasing him again sooner than later.

It’s funny how, in a mere couple of hours, he has already managed to witness different facets that made up Juliette Heartilly— kind, assertive, coy, sensitive. Suddenly, the thought of working with her becomes a lot more bearable, now— interesting, even. He smirks at the feeling, just a little, this time lightly nudging Juliette with his elbow. “It’s for the coffee I spilled earlier,” he explains without looking, noting how she shyly raises her head at him from the corner of his eye. “Also, welcome to the team, Heartilly.”

He is definitely not blushing as he said that. The cold air merely prickles at his face during this time of the year, and he need only take antihistamines for it tonight— another mental note, he reminds himself as he tries not to sneeze like that again.

Juliette seems to sense his bashfulness, though, returning to her usual annoying self as she returns the light elbow nudge with playful jabs of her own. “Awww! And the Good Sir Leonhart’s idea of a warm welcome is to take their newbies on coffee dates? I like that.” Her smile is decidedly a wicked one, and it takes all of Squall’s concentrated effort to not facepalm and/or snark back— whichever comes first— like he is wont to do when he is irritated.

He settles for a professional smile instead, like a team leader imparting wisdom to errant members so they don’t get funny ideas. “I don’t, actually, but today is an exception. I expect you to work hard. Do you understand, Heartilly?”

Just then, the barista rings the bell, calling for “customers Romeo and Juliet” with a nervous stutter. This elicits a wave of quiet laughter from among the dine-in patrons, and Squall, realizing that the hapless worker was referring to them, instantly freezes in place, while Juliette leaps off the high stool and approaches the counter with a light spring in her step. “Coming!”

Squall doesn’t remember how long he remained that way, but the next thing he knows, Juliette is already tugging at the sleeve of his long shirt, carrying their food in a paper bag. “All done! Let’s go back now?”

“R-Right,” he nods in agreement, taking the carrier for the drinks from Juliette’s other hand and heading for the door. Juliette follows him excitedly, good mood fully restored for now. The walk back to the office is quiet amidst the bustle of activity around them, and the festive mood makes Juliette softly hum a tune— one of Julia’s songs, he recognizes.

“By the way, Good Sir Leonhart,” Juliette stops as they reach their office building, “I never got to learn your name.” The sudden question also stops Squall in his tracks, and he looks back at her from the door, studying the quizzical look on her face. She raises an eyebrow at him, prompting an answer. “I can’t keep on calling you Romeo forever, you know.”

“Indeed,” Squall agrees, lest the joint nickname sticks with everyone else and they become the newest comedy duo HR will come breathing down their necks on in next month’s audit. Also a fair enough question, given their new working relationship, really. The initial embarrassment is always only temporary, after all. “My name is Squall. Don’t get any funny ideas, Heartilly.”

“Oooh, a storm. I like that,” she quickly dodges that trap, joining him on the top of the steps and ringing the doorbell for them both. “Also, call me Juliette. Or Juliet. Whatever.” She punctuates this with a coy smile of her own, and Squall almost snorts at how fast it took for her to imitate his favorite expression, down to the bored intonation. She is definitely playing with him now, and he feels that he will fall into this trap sooner than later— but not right now.

“Juliette, then,” he ends the topic with a tone of finality, allowing no more room for further discussion. The door opens for them, and they nod at the receptionist in thanks as they head inside. “Next week’s issue is due today,” Squall instructs as they head up the spiral stairs. “We typically stay past five, but we try to wrap up before it gets too dark. Will that be okay with you?”

“Not a problem,” Juliette says with an excited squeak in her voice, the old steps creaking as she quickly runs up ahead of him. “Come on, Squall! Race you to the office?” She does not give him a chance to reply as she darts off with the food, like an overgrown child cheating at the playground. He only shakes his head as he ascends the steps only a little faster. “I’m carrying drinks, you know.” Not that Juliette would even hear it, given how far ahead she has already gotten, but it just has to be said.

Once upon a time, there was supposed to be a princess asleep in a tower in outer space, but by the time the prince arrived to rescue her and give her true love’s kiss, she was long gone, having escaped on her own and returned back to earth, just like that.

Squall only smiles in amusement at that. Maybe this is the unlikely spark he has been looking for in this life he has chosen for himself, and it’s not a bad thing— not bad, at all.

#final fantasy viii #Squall Leonhart #rinoa heartilly #meet cute #crash-into hello #thesuccessorchallenge #tsc2020 #theme: spark

5 notes · View notes

nazariolahela · 5 years ago

Text

Best Beloved: Chapter 4

A/N: Hey y'all! This is a PM AU I’ve been working on. It’s a bit different than my previous fic series and I’m really excited to try something new. I hope y’all enjoy it. This story is told in dual first-person narrative, from Kaia (F!MC) and Damien’s POV. The first half of this story takes place during Kaia’s freshman year and Damien’s senior year of college. The second half is two years after Kaia graduates. There will be sprinklings of canon in this fic, but we’ll try to step out of the box for the most part. Thanks for reading, and please leave feedback, and/or if you would like to be tagged.

Catch up here

Series Tags: @burnsoslow @lady-calypso @irishwhiskys-blog

Synopsis: What happens when you find yourself crushing on your best friend? For years, Damien and Kaia have been best friends, while secretly harboring feelings for one another. Everything changes one night after a little too much alcohol and years of pent up feelings. Can they control their emotions and salvage their friendship, or will the feelings they hold for one another destroy everything they have?

All characters are the property of Pixelberry Studios. Thanks for allowing me to borrow them.

Chapter Summary: Damien struggles with the state of his relationship and Kaia meets Hayden.

Damien

I sat at my cubicle on a Thursday afternoon, putting the finishing touches on the report I needed to write up for my internship. I had landed a Securities and Intelligence Analysis Internship with a local security agency. My duties included collecting, processing, and analyzing, intelligence, and providing assistance to the senior analysts within the agency. If everything went well, they mentioned offering me the opportunity to join the agency full-time. To be honest, though, I had bigger dreams.

I was proofreading my report when my phone went off. I looked at the screen and saw Alana’s name flash across it. I sighed and dragged my hand down my face. She had been blowing up my phone all day with text messages. After the frat party last weekend, we got into an argument about how I “disappeared on her” after our makeout session in the bathroom. I didn’t intend to, but when she stormed off and I lost her in the crowd, I didn’t make much of an effort to go look for her.

I felt like our relationship was going in a different direction than I was hoping. You could blame it on our busy schedules, and her turning down my proposal left a sour taste in my mouth. But as much as I wanted to deny it, I felt like Kaia coming back into my life had a lot to do with it. Feelings I didn’t know I had crept up on me every time she was around. Her touch, the sound of her laugh, and the sweet smell of her shampoo stirred up all these emotions in me. I needed to get them in check before I did something I’d regret.

My phone buzzed again and I groaned and dropped my head to my desk. I should have called her back and smooth things over, but I had to get this report done before I left today. I picked up the phone, and stared at it for a moment, then clicked the lock button and slipped in in my pocket.

A moment later, the research analyst I was paired up with rounded the corner of the cube farm and called out as he approached me. “Nazario. Do you have that research portfolio on current conflicts and security threats?”

I reached into my desk drawer and pulled out the manila envelope, handing it to him. He took the files and peered over my shoulder at my laptop.

“Thanks, man. Looks good so far. When you’re done with this, can you compile the materials from the counterterrorism report?”

“Sure thing, Agent McDaniels. I’ll have that to you shortly.”

He nodded and clapped me on the shoulder before walking off. I signed off on my report and hit “send” then leaned back in my chair with a smile on my face. This internship was easier than I thought it would be.

My phone buzzed in my pocket again. I groaned and pulled it out to see another missed call from Alana. I locked my computer and got up from my desk then made my way into the break room. Tapping my phone against my palm, I took a deep breath and dialed her number. She answered on the first ring.

“What?” she snapped.

“Baby, come on-”

“Don’t ‘baby, come on’ me, Damien. I’ve been trying to reach you all day! I’m sick of you always bailing on me all the damn time. First, you ditch me to go meet with your advisor. Then, you disappear during the frat party last week. And yesterday you fucking bailed on our date to go visit your mom. I know you have shit going on, but so do I. And I don’t think it’s too much to ask for a little reliability from my boyfriend.”

I groaned. We had planned to spend the afternoon together after classes, but Mom called yesterday morning, asking if I was able to come home and help her with something. And like the good son I am, I emailed my professors that I’d be absent, hopped in my car, and made the hour drive home. Now, I had to face the consequences. As much as I hated to admit it, I’d been kind of a lousy boyfriend lately. I wasn’t doing it on purpose, but with everything going on this year, I had to prioritize. “I know, Alana. I’m sorry.”

“Are you fucking someone else?” she accused.

“What?”

“You heard me. What about that freshman you’ve been hanging around the last few weeks?” she spit out, the venom in her voice leaking through the phone.

Was she serious? I never told her about me and Kaia, so I don’t know where she even got the idea from. Just because Kaia and I had history, didn’t mean that I wanted to sleep with her. Okay, maybe I did, but I sure as shit didn’t act like it around my girlfriend. I dragged my hand down my face, sighing deeply. “Who? Kaia? She’s an old friend from home. I don’t even like her like that.” Lie. “Why would you think that?”

“It would make sense. Look, I know our relationship isn’t perfect, but if you have feelings for someone else, the least you could do is let me know so I’m not wasting my time.”

I yanked the phone away from my ear and mouthed several curse words. After all that we had been through, she had the audacity to say that to me? I pressed the phone back to my ear. “Excuse me? Did you forget that I fucking PROPOSED to you? And you have the nerve to say I’m wasting your time! What the fuck, Alana?” I growled.

She went quiet on the other end and I had to check to see if she had hung up on me. After several beats, she spoke up. “It’s just...fuck, Damien. I feel like you never want to be around me anymore. Especially since you started hanging around with that Kaia girl. Plus, we're both always so busy, it’s like our relationship got put on the backburner.”

“Alana. If I didn’t want to be with you anymore, I wouldn’t be with you. I get why you’re upset. I do, but you have to understand that I have a life outside of this relationship. This internship is important to me. And my mom’s been having a hard time since my dad passed. I’m sorry for bailing on you, but you can’t go around accusing me of cheating on you every time. This relationship is never going to work if you do.”

“Well, what do you expect me to think, Damien? This new girl pops up out of nowhere, and all of a sudden you’re spending all this time with her,” she huffed.

“We have one class together, Alana. That’s it. We don’t go out to eat or spend time together on the weekends. Other than the frat party, the only time I’ve hung out with her was during our study groups. I’ve had female friends for almost our entire relationship and you’ve never batted an eye over it. Why is this one any different just because I’ve known her since we were kids?”

She sighed. “I really don’t want to talk about this over the phone.”

“I’m at work right now, but I can come over later if you want me to,” I said, tugging at the knot of my tie.

“No, I don’t think that’s a good idea, Damien. I just need time to myself right now. I feel like you’ve been smothering me lately, and I can’t deal with this.”

Jesus, this woman was making my head spin. “I don’t understand. First, you say I’m neglecting you, and now you say I’m smothering you. Which is it?”

“It’s...it’s complicated, Damien. I just don’t know if this relationship is worth it anymore.”

“Babe, what are you saying? Are you saying you want to take a break from us?” My chest tightened as I struggled to say the words.

She paused for what felt like an eternity before answering. “I don’t know, Damien. I’ll call you in a few days,” she said, before hanging up the phone.

I stared at the screen, anger coursing through my veins. I fell back against the refrigerator, digging the heels of my hands into my eyes. My department supervisor entered the break room and saw me leaning against the fridge.

“Hey! Everything alright in here?” she asked, pouring herself a cup of coffee.

“Yeah, just dealing with some personal stuff. It’s taken care of though,” I replied. I slipped the phone in my pocket and made my way back to my desk. I sat down in my chair, powered up my laptop and opened my school email. I noticed two new emails: one from my advisor and another from Kaia. Jesus, talk about shit timing.

I sighed and opened the one from my professor. It was an outline of the things I needed to do to complete the first half of my internship. I skimmed through it, taking note of all the important parts, then replied that I would have it to her by midterms.

I closed out the email from my professor and hovered the mouse over the one from Kaia. I wasn’t sure if opening it was such a good idea, but a voice told me to do it anyway. I opened up the email and started reading.

Hey Dames!

Here are the notes from yesterday’s lecture. I highlighted everything Prof. Ross said would be on the test. Let me know if you need anything else. :)

- K.

P.S. Hope your mom is doing okay. Tell her hi for me next time you talk to her!

Of course. I had texted her on the way to Mom’s asking her to take notes for me in class. Sure, I could have asked anyone else in that class, but let’s be real. I wasn’t going to. Any excuse to talk to her, I snatched it up like a dog with a bone. Her email was innocent enough, but just seeing her name pop up on the screen made my heart beat faster. I swallowed the lump in my throat and closed out the email. That must be why Alana was so upset. I sighed deeply and got to work on my next task. After about thirty minutes of struggling to stay focused, I powered down my laptop and walked over to my supervisor’s office.

“Hey! I have an assignment due tomorrow that I need to finish up. Do you mind if I take off?”

She looked up from her computer and nodded. “Sure thing. Just let me sign off on your timesheet and you can be on your way.” I handed her the sheet required for my internship credit hours and she initialed the document, then handed it back to me. “We’ll see you next week,” she replied, then went back to her computer.

I walked back to my desk, packed up my things and headed out. When I got to my car, I dumped my bag in the backseat, then climbed in the driver’s side. Pulling out my phone, I contemplated texting Alana. But after the conversation we had earlier, I decided to let her have her space. She would reach out to me when she was ready to talk. Until then, I had to be patient. Against my better judgment, I texted Kaia.

My breath caught in my throat. Yep, she was definitely flirting with me. Good lords, this girl was going to be the death of me. I’d been fighting feelings for her since my sophomore year of high school. It was easier back then because she was so young, but now that she was older, I was having a hard time keeping my emotions and my dick in check. If I didn’t get this sorted out soon, I was going to completely fuck up both of my relationships. I shook my head, put the car in drive, and headed back to the dorms.

***

Kaia

Sloane, Nadia and I sat in the library Monday afternoon, studying for our Comp class exam. Even though we were only a couple of weeks into the semester, our professor decided this morning that we needed to have a pop quiz on Wednesday and told us to be prepared.

“Ugh, this stuff is so confusing and not at all pertinent to my degree. What is an independent clause anyway?” Nadia whined, holding her phone in one hand.

Sloane leaned over and tapped Nadia’s note sheet. “It’s a clause that has a subject and a verb and can stand alone. Didn’t you learn this stuff in high school?”

“Psh probably. What does that even mean?”

I sighed. “It’s a complete sentence. You’d know that if you were actually reviewing your notes and not texting Steve.”

Nadia rolled her eyes and went back to her phone. “I wish we all had this class together so I could just cheat off your papers.”

Sloane snorted and I rolled my eyes, throwing a ball of wadded up paper at her. “Shut up and study.”

Nadia laughed and grabbed her highlighter, highlighting some sentences on her study guide. “Prepositional phrases are going to be the death of me.”

Ugh, this was so reminiscent of high school. I love my cousin, but she can be a bit flighty. “I’m going to be the death of you if you don’t study your notes, Miss Art Major. Just because this class isn’t,” I held up my index and middle fingers, making air quotes “pertinent to your degree, doesn’t mean you can slack off and not study. What’s going to happen when Steve gets drafted to the NFL and he dumps you for someone smart?”

“Steve would never do that. I’m too cute,” she gasped. Sloane chuckled and went back to her notes.

Ten minutes later, Nadia looked up from her study guide. “So, you guys going to Homecoming?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” I sighed, not looking up as I turned a page in my book.

“I don’t know, it might be kind of fun,” Sloane said, looking up from her study guide.

A grin spread across Nadia’s face. “I agree, Sloane. Plus, there’s so much to do! There’s the parade, the game, the dance. And Delta Sigma Phi is having another party!”

“They have parties every weekend.”

“Not like this,” Nadia retorted. “This one is supposed to be huge.”

I shook my head and went back to studying my notes. The idea of homecoming made me cringe. I only had bad memories of going. Most recently, my junior year. The game was a total blowout (the other team kicked our asses 55-0) and my boyfriend ditched me at the dance for the Homecoming Queen. I didn’t even bother going my senior year because I knew it was going to be a suckfest.

An hour and several chapters into our composition textbooks, Nadia groaned and smacked her head on the table. “I’m hungry, you guys. I say we take a break. My brain hurts.”

I pressed my forefingers to my temple and sighed. Sloane dropped her pencil on the table and removed her glasses, rubbing her eyes. “For once, I agree with Nadia. We could use a coffee break. I’m kind of going cross-eyed over here from reading and re-reading these notes.”

“Fine. I’ll go grab coffee. Who wants what?”

“Ooh. Get me a Strawberry Passion Fruit Boba Tea, please!” Nadia said. “And a banana muffin.”

“I’ll take the caramel almond latte,” Sloane replied. I nodded and grabbed my purse, making my way to the campus coffee shop. Whoever designed this college to put a coffee shop in the library is a motherloving genius. When I arrived, there was only one person in line in front of me. I perused the menu, trying to decide which caffeinated beverage would give me the boost I needed to power through the last leg of our study session.

When it was my turn, I approached the counter and put in Sloane and Nadia’s orders. The barista asked me if that would be all, and I replied there would be one more drink, but that I was still deciding.

“You should try the Cinnamon Roll mocha. It’s indescribable,” a deep voice behind me suggested. I whipped around and came face-to-face with a tall man with warm brown eyes and jet black hair. His soft pink lips were curled into a friendly smile. It was crazy how suspiciously attractive he was. Was every guy at this school an undercover model or something? He looked familiar and I studied his face, trying to figure out where I knew him from.

“How do you know I’ll like it?” I asked him.

“You seem like the type of girl that likes sweet things,” he winked.

I blushed then turned back to the barista. “I’ll take that.” She nodded and got to work making my drinks. I turned back to the mysterious stranger. “If I don’t like this drink, you have to buy me a new one.”

“That won’t be necessary, because you’ll like it,” he laughed.

I moved over to wait for my drinks as he ordered his. I smirked when I heard him also order the Cinnamon Roll mocha. Okay, guy. I see what you’re up to. As we waited for our drinks, he moved over and grabbed a stirring straw, sticking one end in his mouth. My eyes were automatically drawn to the movement as his tongue swirled around the tip of the straw. He noticed me watching and winked.

I cleared my throat. “So...um. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look really familiar.”

“I should. We’re in the same College Algebra class.”

I paused, cocking an eyebrow at him. “Oh?”

“Yeah, you sit in the second row. Let’s just say, I may have checked you out once or twice. No big deal. And since I helped you out with your drink order, you can help me out by telling me your name.”

I laughed. “It’s Kaia. I knew you looked familiar. And thanks for the suggestion, I guess. We’ll see how you did here in a minute.” He extended his hand and I took it, feeling his warm hand squeeze mine.

“Hi, Kaia. I’m Hayden. And trust me on this. You’re going to be so blown away by this drink, you’ll offer up your firstborn for another one.”

I rolled my eyes and grabbed a stack of napkins as the barista called my name and slid the tray with my drinks across the counter. I moved to collect them along with Nadia’s muffin. Hayden watched me intently as I picked up the cup marked “CR” and took a tentative sip. When the coffee hit my tongue, my tastebuds were transformed to a new world. He must have seen it by the look on my face because a huge grin spread across his.

“What did I tell you? You love it, don’t you?”

“Okay, okay. You were right on that one. Any more life-changing advice you want to give me?”

“You got something… right…” He reached over and wiped a dribble of the coffee from my chin with his thumb, then brought it to his mouth, sucking the liquid off. My breath caught in my throat at the contact. I quickly composed myself and grabbed my items. As I juggled the drink tray with shaking hands, Hayden swooped in and took it from me.

“Need a little help with that?” he asked.

“Thanks. We’re just sitting over here,” I replied, guiding him over to where Sloane and Nadia were chatting. Nadia’s eyes lit up when she saw us approaching.

“Ooh! Coffee and eye candy,” she squealed, leaping from her seat to take the tray from his hand. “Who is this tall drink of water, Kaia?”

“Don’t you have a boyfriend?” I eyed her incredulously.

She sat down and handed Slone her drink before taking a sip of her own. “Hey! You can look at the menu as long as you don’t order anything from it. I’m Nadia. And you are?”

I shot her a glare. “Nadia, this is Hayden. He's in my algebra class. Hayden, this is my cousin Nadia and my friend Sloane.” He leaned over the table and shook each of their hands.

“You’re in my American Government class. Do you want to sit with us?” Sloane asked, taking a sip from her coffee.

Hayden looked around the library, like he was waiting for someone, then back to me. “Oh, I don’t want to impose. Looks like you ladies have your own study group going on.”

“Nonsense. Come, have a seat next to my extremely beautiful and extremely single cousin,” Nadia insisted, motioning for Hayden to take the chair next to mine.

“Nadia!” I snapped.

He grinned and sat down, raking his eyes over my body. I blushed as I took the seat next to him. He tugged his backpack from his shoulders and dug around, pulling out a spiral notebook. He then leaned over to see what we were studying. “Well, I don’t have Comp homework, but I guess I can work on my algebra homework.”

I glanced at his notebook and nodded. “I can help you with that when we’re done here.”

He smiled, sending the butterflies in my stomach into overdrive. He had a nice smile. Sloane looked up from her notes and addressed Hayden. “So, what are you majoring in?”

He paused and took a sip of his coffee, eyeing the three of us, then swallowed. “I’m actually majoring in photography.”

“Wow! A fellow art major! How exciting,” Nadia said, extending her hand for a high-five. Hayden laughed and slapped his palm against hers.

“Photography, huh? That sounds exciting! How’d you get into that field?” I asked.

“I joined Yearbook my sophomore year of high school and took pictures for the club, and I just kind of fell in love with it. I started taking pictures for fun and ended placing second in my state’s high school photography competition.”

I placed my elbows on the table and rested my chin in my hands. Listening to him talk about his love for photography made me smile. I wish I was half as passionate about anything as he was about photography.

The four of us settled into a comfortable conversation, neglecting our studying. We talked about our favorite (and not so favorite) professors, which classes we were looking forward to taking the next four years, and which spot in the student union was best for people-watching. We learned that Nadia and Hayden also shared two classes and the same advisor. Another hour had passed when my stomach growled and I looked at my phone to see the time was 5:30 p.m.

“Holy shit, it’s dinner time. You guys wanna go grab a bite?”

“I can’t. Steve gets done with football practice soon, so we’re going out after,” Nadia said.

“I’d love to, but I have a ton of homework I need to get done for my Spanish comp class. Maybe another time.” Sloane said.

I debated texting Damien to ask if he was free, but he sounded really weird when I spoke to him a few days ago, so I let it go. I shrugged and started gathering up my books. Nadia left first, with Sloane taking off shortly after, leaving Hayden and me by ourselves. He shoved the last of his things in his backpack and slung it over his shoulder, then followed me out of the library. We walked through the courtyard toward the dorms, surveying the sun as it slowly set behind the horizon. He stopped walking then turned to me.

“I hope you don’t think I’m being too forward, but would you want to go get a bite to eat sometime?”

I stared down at my shoes, kicking a stray pebble on the pavement. He seemed nice enough. But why was I so hesitant to say yes? I shifted on my feet and looked up at him. “Oh...um...I don’t know.”

He frowned. “Hey, no big deal. I get it. Just thought I’d shoot my shot.”

“No. I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant that I’m not ready to date yet. I guess I’m still adjusting to the new school year. But if you’re ever up for another study group, let me know.”

He smiled, although it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, sure. Do you want me to walk you to your dorm?”

“Nah. I think I’m okay. I’ll see you in class.”

“You too,” he replied and winked as he made his way to the dorms. I watched him walk away as I stood in the middle of the courtyard. What was wrong with me? This extremely good-looking and nice guy just asked me out, and I shot him down. It’s not like I already had a boyfriend, so why was I acting like a scared little bitch? I briefly considered chasing him down and saying, ‘lol j/k let’s go out sometime,’ but something held me in place. I just couldn’t figure out what it was.

#best beloved #pm au #college au #friends to lovers #perfect match #choices fanfic #damien nazario #kaia park #damien x mc #nazariolahela fanfic

19 notes · View notes