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sleepysnk · 4 years ago

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i got horny and wrote this after some ideas you guys gave me!! thank you again to those who suggested it, i hope you all enjoy! ♡

All For Me

Pairings: Porco Galliard x Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, unedited sorry for errors

A laugh escaped (Y/N)'s lips as Reiner told her another joke.

An annoyed sigh left Porco's mouth at the sight of her giggling and smiling at Reiner's jokes. He hated the way Reiner looked at her, all those sweet laughs should be all for him and only him. Porco was never one to show his jealousy, he always failed to admit it because he was just stubborn like that.

Reiner and (Y/N) had been close friends for awhile. She knew him since high school and Porco was introduced to her when she started hanging out with Reiner.

The two had been dating for about a year and a half, she fell in love with everything about Porco. He was perfect to her and she wouldn't trade anyone else to be with him.

(Y/N) had always been very reassuring, Porco had jealousy issues and he was afraid that someone might take her away from him. He was always scared she could do better. Of course he believed her, but Reiner could be a little too close for his liking. He knew the two were friends, but sometimes he felt like Reiner could swoop in anytime and take her.

Porco watched from afar as the scenario unfolded, the bar was pretty packed tonight and it was Reiner's idea to go out. Of course (Y/N) was all for the idea of going out.

He sat watching as Reiner and (Y/N) sat in the booth and talked. Porco swirled his drink around, the ice cubes clinking against the glass. There wasn't much he could do anyway, Reiner asked her to come sit there and Porco wasn't one to interrupt.

"Don't be such a debby downer Pock,"

His eyes averted towards Pieck who had a beer in her hand.

His yellow eyes rolled, annoyance clear on his face. "I'm not a debby downer... I just wanted to spend tonight with (Y/N)," he replied and took a sip of the drink.

Pieck sat down in the stool next to him. "I'm sure everything is fine. (Y/N) and Reiner are just friends! You have nothing to worry about," she said, patting his shoulder.

A scoff came from his mouth. "Some friends huh.." Porco replied, placing his glass onto the counter. "I gotta run to the bathroom, keep me updated." he added and stood up.

(Y/N) laughed again as Reiner told her another joke, he was always one for jokes.

"You're quite the jokester tonight," she said, smiling as she calmed down from laughing.

The blonde chuckled. "I am quite the jokester. Say uh.. I wanted to ask you about something if you don't mind," he said and placed his hand onto hers.

Her eyes grew wide as she looked around the bar for Porco. She didn't see him anywhere. Worry ran through her as she pondered on where he could be.

"Sure! What's up?" she asked and nodded her head.

Reiner squeezed her hand a bit. "I wanted to ask if Historia was single.. I know you two are close and I was wondering if you could set me up," he asked.

Relief ran through her veins. "Well.. I'm not exactly sure if she is. I can ask for you through," she replied, smiling.

He laughed a bit, smiling in the process. "Thank you really.. I just don't know how to approach her," he said.

(Y/N) nodded her head. "No worries! I can help you out," she said and giggled a bit. "We can do it together,"

"Hey."

(Y/N)'s head snapped back to see Porco standing behind her, his hand on her shoulder. He didn't seem too happy by the way he was staring down Reiner, his eyes seemed to notice his hands on hers.

"Hi babe! What's up?" she asked, smiling at him.

Porco looked down at her. "Can we get out of her baby? I kinda want to go home. My head hurts," he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

She blinked a bit and looked towards Reiner. "Sorry to cut it short Reiner. Text me, okay?" she said, standing up and grabbing her purse.

The blonde sent a smile her way. "No worries"

She waved at Reiner before Porco took her hand into his, the grip was tight. He lead her outside the bar and towards the car, she felt the chill of the night air hitting her skin causing chills to go down her body.

She couldn't help but notice how Porco was in a rush to get back, he practically dragged her outside to the car which made her question what was going on.

Sitting in the car she felt Porco's hand slide onto her thigh, giving a small squeeze onto the flesh. He was driving kind of fast and she couldn't help but notice how his jaw was clenched, his eyes never leaving the road. His eyes flickered a few times towards her form.

"Did you have a good time?" she asked, trying to break the tension between them.

Porco cleared his throat before speaking. "Mhm.. I can see you did," he said and turned the wheel.

Her gaze panned over to the road, they were almost home. She wanted to just get out of the car and drop the tension.

Within a few minutes the two arrived back at the apartment they shared. (Y/N) fidgeted a bit as Porco unlocked the door to the apartment, pushing the door open so she could get inside.

Porco tossed the keys onto the kitchen counter. (Y/N) stared at him as she removed her shoes, he looked pissed. She tried recalling if she said or did something to piss him off, Porco could be a hot head sometimes and it bothered her when he acted this way.

"Porco.. what's wrong?" she asked, breaking the silence.

Silence.

He didn't even bother responding, his eyes averted towards her but no words were spoken.

She began to become frustrated. "Okay you know what? Give me the fucking silent treatment. I'm going to bed," she said and walked past him.

That's when she felt the grip of his hand around her arm, his hand squeezed the flesh of her arm tightly so she stopped in her tracks. A slight yelp escaping her throat.

Her body was now in front of his, Porco's eyes bored into hers.

"You know.. it really pissed me off when you sat with Reiner the whole night. You know how much it pissed me off?" he asked, his voice low next to her ear.

She swallowed thickly. "I-I'm sorry Porco.. he just wanted some help," she said and looked down at the ground.

He used his hand to tilt her chin to look at him. "Seeing Reiner touch you really pissed me off (Y/N).. you know how I feel about him," he replied.

"Porco.. please, Reiner is just a friend. I love you," she said and chewed her bottom lip.

Porco smirked. "I'm gonna have to show you who you belong to.." he said, moving his hands down to her hips giving them a small squeeze.

She felt the print from his cock against her belly. A small gasp escaped her lips as Porco lifted her up, her legs wrapped around his waist. He carried her to the bedroom and lied her down on the bed.

He hovered over her form, his lips pressed onto hers enveloping her into a rough yet passionate kiss. She slightly moaned into the kiss as Porco's tongue swiped over her bottom lip asking for permission, she opened her mouth a bit so his tongue could enter her mouth. The hot muscle explored her mouth.

Her hips moved upward to brush against his.

A chuckle escaped his throat. "Eager are we? Don't worry princess... I got you," he whispered, kissing her neck.

Her breath hitched as she felt his tongue against her neck, he slightly sucked at her sweet spot leaving a mark on her skin. A small whimper escaped her mouth feeling his kisses trail down her chest.

He pulled her dress down her legs, tossing it to another part of the room. Her skin was exposed to the cool air, goosebumps formed onto her skin making her shiver a bit.

He leaned down, kissing in between her breasts causing her nipples to harden. He used his hand to play with her bud as he continued kissing down her stomach.

"P-Porco.." she whimpered as she felt his lips against her skin.

The ache in his pants worsened as he heard her whimpers.

Porco smirked as he got to her panties, noticing the wet spot that formed darkening the material. He licked his lips hungrily at the sight. He opened her legs, hooking his fingers under the hem of her underwear and removing them within one swift motion.

Her body was growing hot feeling his touch, her skin tingled and electricity was running through her body.

Her pussy glistened in the light, making Porco's cock twitch. "Fuck.. your pussy is so wet. Is this my pussy baby? Who can make you this wet?" he asked, looking up at her.

She let out a shaky breath. "Y-You.. only you," she replied.

He kissed at her thighs. "Good." he said before leaning in and running his tongue along her folds.

A moan escaped her lips as she felt his hot tongue exploring her pussy. She bucked her hips into his mouth.

He held her hips down with his arm, forcing them onto the bed. His tongue flicked over her bead, causing whimpers and cries to escape her throat. He shoved one of his fingers into her core, knuckle deep in to feel her walls.

"Porco! Fuck!" she cried out in pleasure, throwing her head back.

The feeling of his tongue along her nerves made her mind cloud, her jaw was slack open as he continued pumping his fingers inside of her. Her walls fluttered around his fingers.

Porco shoved another digit into her, pumping at a quick pace. His fingers curled against her g-spot, making her vision go white and causing her back to arch off the bed. He pushed her back down and looked up at her with blown pupils.

"Keep your hips on the bed." he ordered, slowing the pace of his fingers.

Her fingers dug into the sheets as he continued working his fingers in and out of her pussy which was now dripping. He used this tongue to suck on her clit, squeezing the flesh of her thighs. He felt the hardening of his cock as he ate her out, begging to be freed.

The knot in her stomach began to tighten up as her orgasm slowly approached. Tingles danced along her body, her mind clouded from the pleasure.

"P-Porco..! I'm g-gonna cum.."

Those words made his eyes flicker upwards towards her face, he could see her eyes squeezing shut and her jaw slacking open with moans and whimpers escaping.

He hummed against her clit, causing vibrations to run along her folds. She suddenly reached her orgasm, her walls tightening around his fingers as her cream coated them. He removed his fingers which were coated with her arousal, he took a look at her pussy which was leaking cum.

He ran his tongue along her clit, lapping up the cum that leaked from her pussy. She cried out in pleasure at the overstimulation, her pussy throbbed with need as he continued to eat her out.

"I love the way you taste..." Porco said, leaning up a bit exposing his lips which were covered with her cum.

She swallowed thickly as he continued licking her folds. A layer of sweat began to form against her skin at how hot the room became.

Her hands found their way into his neatly combed hair, she dug her fingers into his scalp, a few strands becoming undone and flowing down towards his forehead. His hands hooked around her thighs as his head slightly moved around against her clit.

"Porco.. mm! Fuck..." she moaned, moving her hips upwards against him.

He used his thumb to circle her clit as he continued to lick along her dripping folds. Another orgasm began to approach, her moans becoming louder and the grip on his hair tightened.

"Fuck! Baby! I'm gonna cum... I'm gonna cum so fucking hard!"

Porco's tongue flicked against her bead, he squeezed the flesh of her thighs tightly which forced her hips down. Her legs became shaky and her eyes saw white feeling his tongue savoring her.

Tears pricked at her eyes as her orgasm took over her body.

"Oh fuck Porco!" she yelled, pulling strands of his hair.

Tears escaped her eyes feeling her high, electricity danced along her body from her stomach down towards her legs.

Porco sat up, his chin covered in her arousal. The wet spot in his pants showed as the fabric was darkened. Strands of his hair were now messy and undone. His eyes still blown with lust.

His belt unbuckled, pushing his pants off and removing his shirt. Her body shivered as he hovered over her, his eyes exploring her body.

He ran the tip of his cock against her slick folds, earning a moan from her lips.

"You want me inside of you..?" he asked and leaned his body down towards hers. Their chests against each other.

"Y-Yes.." she replied, moving her hips against his.

"What's the magic word?"

"Please."

He smirked, positioning himself at her entrance which was now dripping with arousal. He pushed himself inside of her, a groan escaped his throat as her walls hugged his cock. A moan slipped out of her mouth as he began to move his hips slowly into her.

"You're so fucking tight.." he groaned as he thrusted into her.

Her toes curled as his cock began to push into her, the tip of his cock brushing up against that spot inside her. Her vision going white as he hit against it with every thrust.

"Baby! Right there! Porco.." she cried, squeezing her eyes shut as he fucked into her.

Feeling her velvety walls around him made Porco go crazy, he clenched his jaw as he felt her tightening around him every so often. Groans escaped his mouth feeling the pleasure.

Her arms went around his neck, bringing his face down so he could engulf her into a hot kiss. She brought her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into her core.

"You like when I fuck you like this princess? You can be such a slut sometimes.." Porco said lowly in her ear. He slightly bit at her neck, causing moans to escape her mouth.

Her walls tightened a bit as the words escaped his mouth. She felt that familiar band in her stomach forming, her body feeling hot as his thrusts continued. Euphoria danced onto her skin.

"P-Porco.. I'm going to cum," she cried, throwing her head back.

His own orgasm was approaching, feeling his cock twitching inside of her and his thrusts becoming sloppy. His mind was going crazy.

He put his hand around her throat and leaned down towards her ear. "I'm gonna cum deep inside of you.. fuck, do you want that?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Y-Yes.. please!" she cried.

"What's my name..?"

"Daddy.."

"Who's the only one that can make you cum?"

"You daddy.."

A smirk formed onto his face. "Good girl," he said, thrusting quickly into her.

Her walls tightened around him as she creamed around his cock. Porco hit his own orgasm, a loud groan coming out of his mouth as his cum coated her walls.

The two breathed heavily for a moment as they recovered from their orgasms. Porco sat up, removing himself from her tired cunt and watching as a mix of his and her cum leaked out of her pussy. He smirked at the sight.

He lied down next to her, pulling her against his chest. "I love you.." he said, rubbing circles into her hips.

She kissed against his jaw. "I love you too.." she replied.

"Your love will always be all for me, right?" he asked and looked down at her.

She looked up and cupped his cheek. "Yes of course babe," she said, smiling at him.

He pulled her against his skin. "Good.." he said and lied his chin against her head.

#anime #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot x y/n #aot x reader #aot imagines #aot fanfiction #snk x y/n #snk x reader #snk fanfiction #snk imagines #shingeki no kyoujin fanfiction #porco galliard #porco x reader #attack on titan fanfiction #anime fanfic #aot smut

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in-superbloom · 4 years ago

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did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen? (a.i.)

right where you left me: prologue

pairing: ashton irwin x olivia jones (oc)

warnings: uhh a kinda grieving theme i guess? but no deaths. it has a sad tone overall, but nothing major (in this chapter hehe). foul language because i can't help myself. the tiniest mention of alcohol, but as a memory. think i should probably warn you that this contains a very sad ash. also not much dialogues. this is mainly for explanation and introduction, but very important for the story. if you find anything else that might be triggering, please let me know so i can add it here !!

author's note: oof okay. so. this is the prologue of a series very very dear to my heart that i've been working on for what it feels like my whole life but really it's been just a few months. but i'm in love with the story (which rarely happens with my own writing) so i hope you can enjoy it too !! this is also my very first time posting a fic since 2013 so pls keep that in mind <3 no i am not shaking as type this ofc not also: although i have the full story ready in my head, this is the only chapter that's written. i wanted to wait until i had at least a few ready before posting this but i'm too anxious for that lmao just saying this bc it will take a good while until i have any more chapters, so <3 (p.s.: i went over this thing a million times since may so if you find any errors pls look away, i'm not fixing this thing anymore. thanks <3)

another note: anna from the future here to say that i completely forgot about the playlist i made for the story lmao here it is in case you're interested k thanks bye <3

credits: title is from taylor swift's song right where you left me. model in the picture: paola locatelli. banner by me.

i also wanted to take a minute to thank some really nice friends that i've made here over these past few months & that i'm extremely grateful for @wastelandcth @suchalonelysunflower @littledrummerangie i cannot thank you babes enough for inspiring me the way that you do & for letting me yell about this to you && for encouraging me so much 🥺 i'll never be able to explain just how much this means to me, so i'll have to settle for saying thank you at any change that i can get <3 i love you all 💜 also gem my baby, thank you for the inspo with the banner 💚

@bluesdelis look babe i did it 😌 you know how grateful i am for you & for you letting me have a breakdown every week about my writing for the past 8 years so let's not dive into that or else i will write something bigger than this prologue jsjsjdjd love you 🖤

i hope you all have a good reading and a nice day ♡

let me know what are your thoughts about the fic ! ♡

word count: 4.1k

☆☆☆

Cold. That was the first thing that Olivia’s brain processed.

Still with her eyes closed, she buried herself more into the duvet, while her arm blindly reached for the furnace in human form that she calls boyfriend. However, as soon as her arm was only met with cold sheets, her eyes shot open.

Blinking the sleep away, she sat up on the bed, searching for the infamous red clock resting on Ashton’s bedside table that was supposed to look like a vintage alarm clock. Olivia had ordered it online at an auction website a couple of years back, as a gift for his 23rd birthday, since it was something he had mentioned multiple times prior that he was looking for, but still hadn't found. But when it finally came in (two weeks after the due date), it looked nothing like the picture she saw on the website. Feeling beyond frustrated, she wanted to send it back immediately and ask for a refund and maybe leave a not so polite review on the seller's page. But Ashton stopped her right away, laughing like the situation was absolutely hilarious to him, while saying, 'I like it, it’s quirky'. So, the clock stayed and found a home right next to him in their room.

Some days, however, she would wake up at some ungodly hour because of the blaring noise of the only ringtone the clock had. But whatever annoyance she could feel towards the object, it always vanished as soon as she felt Ashton's lips gently touching her face in a good morning kiss before he would get up to start his day, leaving her to catch some more hours of well deserved sleep.

As the furthest from a morning person as a touring musician could possibly be, Olivia had always feared that living under the same roof as Ashton would turn her into an early bird like him, but she's thankful that it never happened (not that he needs to know about that).

When she sees the red clock, she smiles at the sudden but welcome memories of them flooding her foggy brain, but frowns slightly when she realizes it reads 12:13 pm. Ashton rarely lets her sleep past 10 am.

Gathering all her strength and will, she rises up from the bed, smoothly picking up a grey wool sweatshirt from the chair (way too baggy on her slim body, but it smells like him), pulling it over her head and relishing on the soft material warming up her body. Making her way to the door and calmly going down the stairs, she can’t help but stop for a minute to admire the picture frames on their walls, one in particular catches her attention – probably one of the most prized pictures and memories they had. It felt older than it actually is, but it was around 4 years ago, she's sure – a little while after the two of them met. The picture was of their group of friends that still remains the same: Ashton and his best friend, Luke; Olivia, her best friend, Calum and their old hometown friend, turned into Calum’s new friend at college, turned into everyone’s friend, Michael; and her then newly band members, Suki, Eli and Ravi. Together, their group was the life of the party through all their college years, and it showed by the big smiles and drinks in hands they all had in the picture. It was a very special night, the first time Olivia’s little band played for the public – for a small audience sure, but it was a wonderful night nonetheless. What a long road it had been since that night.

Her nostalgic thoughts were interrupted by a shiver that went through her whole body, and it made her realize how oddly cold the whole house was, not only their bedroom. Which, granted, it was November in New York and the weather was just getting colder, but that’s exactly why Ashton always made sure to keep the house warm enough. As much as she loved the chilly season, the warm weather always reminded him of his hometown, and who was she to deny him that?

The smell of fresh made coffee could be sensed even before she reached the kitchen. Arriving there, the curly haired woman still found no signs of her boyfriend, so she went straight after the coffee maker pot sitting on the far left corner of the cream marble counter. Smiling softly at the tons of memories of Ashton's sleepy figure making their favorite beverage, she reached for a coffee mug on the cupboard on top of the counter and poured the remainder of the hot liquid on it (it's her favorite mug, if she must choose – it was a gift from a fan, and it had printed on it a collage of the pictures of her and Ashton that were posted on social media through their first year of relationship).

Moving to the glass doors that lead to the mini garden they cultivate, she didn't have to open them to spot the 6-feet-tall man sitting on a bench outside, looking oddly small in his oversized clothes, coffee mug tightly held between strong hands. Something about his figure made Olivia frown, however: he was staring with an unwavering look at her small but eye-catching pot of yellow daffodils that were almost as much of a pet to them as Stitch at this point. Sensing that there’s something definitely off about his semblance, she made a mental note to talk to him and find out what’s wrong later. So she goes back to the kitchen, knowing that he might need this quiet and private moment for himself.

She lost count of the minutes that went by (couldn't have been more than five) before she hears the garden's door opening and closing, and then his bare feet are dragging his brawny body to her. Except, he goes over to the sink, walking right through her, not showing any sign that he even saw her hunched figure over the counter table in the middle of the room.

Alright, someone's in a mood.

Olivia tries to swallow the annoyance already bubbling inside her – he knows how much she hates to be ignored, no matter how mad he might be – by trying to think of what she can say that won't piss him off. This is always a hard feat to accomplish when Ashton gets in these moods, but there’s a reason for them to work so well together.

“I missed my favorite body heater when I woke up,” she says in her best sweet voice, knowing how quickly his resolve crumbles when he hears that voice.

Still, no reaction.

That settles a worry at the pit of her stomach, because Ashton is never like this. Even when he's not in the mood to talk, he always gives some kind of reaction to her words; it doesn't matter how small, just enough to make her feel acknowledged.

When he's finished washing his mug and the few scattered dishes across the sink – she noticed that he already had lunch, if the lone plate in the drying rack is anything to go by –, he dries his hand in a towel, turns around and throws it on top of the same counter Olivia was leaning up against. Once again, he walks away not even sparing her a look.

Indignant, she leaves the now empty coffee mug on top of the table and follows him as he walks up the stairs, any determination to not aggravate his mood now well gone.

“Hey! In case you didn't notice, I'm right here. Whatever got you in this sour mood, I'm certainly not to blame, so can you stop being a child now and talk to me?!”

Ashton just keeps walking – more like sluggishly dragging his body – until he reaches their bedroom and suddenly stops just merely two feet inside the room, looking around with vacant eyes; like he was expecting to see something that wasn't there.

“Okay, that's really mature of you. Are you planning on ignoring me all day then?” Olivia questions exasperated, staring angrily at the back of his neck, where the condor tattoo lives – her favorite of his, but that sight doesn't bring her any peace today like it usually does.

Her glare only breaks when she hears the familiar sound of dog tags swaying on her right side. Shifting her gaze to the direction of the sound, Olivia notices Stitch, their small, black & white French bulldog – who she thought was outside in the garden – slowly trudging his way from around the bed until he stops at Ashton's feet, looking up at one of his humans with sad eyes. That realization only makes the worry in her stomach grow uncomfortably.

“Hi buddy,” Ashton's voice cracks a bit from the lack of use, but he smiles softly at the sweet dog, and crouches down to pet him.

Olivia can't help but gasp as she notices three things all at once that leave her overwhelmed: first, how she didn't even notice Stitch was in the room when she woke up – which never ever happens, in fact, most days he wakes her up whenever he deems her bedtime as finished and can't ever contain his excitement when she finally gets up; second, how the windows blinds are closed, which, again, rarely occurs under their roof, not if Ashton can help it. And third, how sad and melancholic the whole scene in front of her is – how sad and melancholic Ashton is. Pointless to say by now – that's also a very rare occasion.

A chill creeps up Olivia's spine, putting her body into high alert and also serving as a reminder of how everything looks out of place today. Trying to keep her head from spiraling down way too soon, she wraps her arms around herself and crouches down beside her two favorite boys, trying once more.

“Ash? Can you hear me?” even with her throat closing, she softly asks, purposefully putting her face in Ashton's point of view. Her only answer is the low whispers he's letting out to Stitch, while cradling the tiny dog in his arms, spreading gentle kisses on his head.

“I know, bud, I know. I miss her too,” is the only whisper she could understand and immediately wishes she hadn't. The weak wail that comes from Stitch's throat seems to fit perfectly with how the three of them feel.

Ashton then looks up and for a couple of seconds, and Olivia can swear he’s staring right into her eyes. But when he shows no reaction, she knows he’s just staring ahead and not at her, with that look that says there’s too much going on inside his head. She feels the urge to embrace him and get him to talk about whatever is on his mind, so they can share that weight like they always do, but when Ashton gets up from the ground and settles on the bed with Stitch, Olivia can physically feel the crack in her heart caused by the feeling she’s left with.

While Ashton is pulling the duvet over him and the dog, with clearly no intentions of getting up anytime soon, Olivia stands up on her feet with a new-found determination – she needs to figure out what the hell is going on.

This nightmare had to be just that, right? Nothing but a very vivid dream – she's had those before. Scary sure, but they always go away, and soon enough she's back into Ashton's arms, with Stitch jumping on the bed ready to lick their faces off. She just needs to wake herself up from whatever fucked up dream this is – right?

She's running down the stairs this time, frantically in search of something, of what exactly, she doesn’t know – but she knows she needs an answer. The more she looks for something, the more desperate she gets, not knowing what to look for. Then suddenly, something catches her eyes.

The white and blue calendar that's held up by magnets on the side of the fridge. She knows their calendar is red and yellow. They got it from their favorite flower market. Slowly, as if scared of what it might be there – “It's just a calendar, for fucks sake” – she approaches the damn thing. Upon inspection, she deems it as a normal calendar – she really doesn't know what she was expecting – until.

She knows what's wrong with it now.

It's November. She knows it, because the Asian and last leg of her first world tour is about to begin November 21st, eleven days from today. Right after Mike's birthday, she knows this.

Then why does the calendar say today is January 14th?

☆ ☆ ☆

Ashton woke up with a jolt. He quickly sat up, frightening the little Frenchie that was asleep right next to him on the bed. Trying to make sense of his surroundings, he roughly rubbed his face to get some sleep off of it and soon reached for the dog that was staring at him with sleepy but sad eyes. Ashton is sure Stitch understands far more than a dog is supposed to understand about their current situation.

The room is covered in shadows, almost pitch black, but he can see the sunlight even through the thick dark grey blinds covering up the windows. Ashton knows he won't be able to sleep again at that moment, so he gets up from the bed – much slower than he used to. His heartbeat is still out of control because of the nightmare that woke him up, but he can't bother to pay attention to it when Stitch is softly wailing beside him. Ashton lets out a ghost of a smile when the dog rests his head on his right upper thigh, looking up at him with an expression Ashton knows all too well.

“C'mon you little ravenous creature, let's feed you,” the bulldog excitedly jumps to the ground, already running his way down the stairs, not even waiting for Ashton to get up.

That gets a real smile out of him, but it vanishes as soon as he glances at the alarm clock on his bedside table. It reads 5:13 am, nothing out of the ordinary for him. But that small and inoffensive clock, with its red paint peeling off, holds a lot of memories for him. Memories that two months ago would bring joy to his heart, but now he almost wants to throw the object across the room.

It was a stupid thing, really. He had been wanting a vintage alarm clock and Olivia got one for his birthday. But the product they received was definitely not the one she bought, and if he's being honest, he didn't like it as much as he made out to. But seeing her so excited in the weeks before it arrived, and how disappointed she was when it did, he couldn't help but try his best to make her smile that luminous smile again. It's part of his nature by now.

That's also the reason why he lets her think that he doesn't notice when she wakes up at some ungodly hour (her words, not his) along with him, because of the annoying and only sound the alarm clock is able to produce. He always leaves soft kisses in every inch of bare skin he can find on her sleeping figure, so she goes back to the dream land and doesn't wake up before 10 am. No one wants to deal with that kind of bad humor, not even him.

As much as he likes being a morning person and absolutely enjoys her company in the mornings, he knows she'll take any and every extra hour of sleep she can get before starting the day. And that's why he loves that she's so stubborn that his early bird tendencies never got to her – he knows she feared that this would happen when they moved in together, but he met her like this, fell for her like this. He wouldn't change a single thing about her.

Ashton drags himself out of the bed, wincing slightly at how cold the wooden floors are under his bare feet. He doesn't bother putting some socks on, or a sweater – the cold weather in the house is uncharacteristically comforting to him. Nothing feels warm without her anyway.

While descending the stairs, he mentally curses himself for not being strong enough to look past the picture frames on the wall. One in particular catches his eyes – a picture from the night of Olivia's first concert with her band. The memories of that night are still painfully vivid in his mind: the laughter among their group that eventually infected everyone at the pub, Suki and Luke's first kiss and the silly smile that didn't leave his best friend's face all night, the standing ovation Olivia got after her three-songs set, and her captivating and breathtaking smile that made him realize right then and there, while watching her sway to the music, that he was definitely falling in love with her and there was nothing he could do to stop it – not that he wanted to.

So many memories held up on that wall, in the relatively short time since they met, that he can't help but wonder if that's all they'll get in this lifetime.

Ashton is abruptly taken out of his thoughts by Stitch's barks coming from the bottom of the stairs. He quickly jogs down the few steps left and goes straight after the dog's food in the kitchen's cabinet. After Stitch starts to happily devour his breakfast, Ashton goes to make his coffee, doing enough for two people like he always does, since Calum drops by most days for a chat or to drop Duke before going to work. Although all three of them know he just can't bother to make food for himself in the morning, while Ashton is the group's elected chef. Ashton always says he just needs a boyfriend – Olivia says Calum already has one who makes him breakfast every day.

He grabs an apple from the fridge and makes his way outside to their garden. Even though a lot of their memories took place there, the garden is the only space in the house where he doesn't feel like suffocating all the time. At least here, he can breathe some fresh air and look at the sky when he's feeling overwhelmed – which is basically all he's been doing for about a month now.

Yet, a lot of the garden has Olivia's name written all over.

He remembers vividly the day she came home after spending two weeks in LA doing some pocket shows, with a pack of daffodil seeds and the largest smile. She excitedly told him that a friend gifted it to her when she mentioned the little garden they were planning to build together at their new house. The friend told Olivia that daffodils symbolize rebirth and new beginnings, so as the good lover of symbolism that she is, Olivia loved the idea of having those flowers to symbolize their new beginning.

Ashton, on the other hand, wasn't a fan of the flowers at first – he just didn't see the appeal to them. But nonetheless, he indulged her, letting Olivia plant the seeds near the bench they used to sit during the quiet and unrushed afternoons, so they could admire the sunset, and she could happily look at the daffodils.

Pointless to say – the damn flowers grew on him.

Now, however, looking at them without Olivia and her contagious joy next to him, they were back to be as dull as they were before, if not more so.

Still lost inside his head without any sense of how much time went by since he sat down, Ashton doesn't hear the front door closing, and doesn't notice that he's no longer the only person inside the house until someone sits next to him on the bench. Yet, he doesn't show any sign of acknowledgement to them.

A few minutes go by before either of them speaks up.

“Luke said you didn't go to see her yesterday,” Calum starts softly, not wanting to disturb the calmness of the morning.

Ashton takes a few seconds to respond, “No point in doing that.” The black haired man licks his lips while thinking carefully about his next words.

“You know staying inside this house all day by yourself won't help either,” Calum turns his head to his left and takes a good look at Ashton's uncharacteristically hunched over figure, and immediately thinks that anyone can tell this man is not himself anymore. His second thought is that Olivia would hate seeing him like this.

“And what exactly do you expect me to do? Move on with my life like nothing happened? Like I'm not slowly and painfully losing the love of my life? Just because it’s easy for you doesn't mean it's easy for me.”

Calum closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He knows Ashton doesn't mean it, it's the anger and frustration talking. He knows it. Doesn't make it sting any less.

“I'm not telling you to move on with your life, because that's far from what I'm doing, and I certainly don't expect you to do it. I'm just saying you need to occupy your mind or else–”

“I'll go insane? Think it's a bit too late for that,” Ashton interrupts with a bitter tone that doesn't belong to his usual chirpy voice.

“You know it's not,” Calum sighs and drinks the rest of his coffee, moving his body slightly, so he's facing the blonde man, “I got a job interview for you at that school you talked about so much last summer, the principal said you can go any day this week. I went ahead and sent her your resume as well as explained everything that she needs to know about Olivia, so you don't have to. You just gotta put on some decent clothes and show up.” he sees Ashton's face softening a little and takes it as a victory. A few beats go by and then, “Maybe take a shower too. That's gonna make you feel better.” Calum leans in closer to his friend's personal space and takes a sniff, causing Ashton to deflect from him slightly, but not to push him away – another small win.

“Definitely take a shower, you stink. When was the last time your hair saw shampoo?”

“Fuck off,” is Ashton's only reply to the younger man's inquest. But Calum can see a smile creeping up on the blonde's face, which brings out a smile of his own.

“I'll send you all the details later today,” he checks the hour on the watch on his wrist and gets up, “Just please, Ash, go. I can't lose you too.”

Calum gently lays a hand on Ashton's shoulder and squeezes a little. The man doesn't look up, but gives a curt nod to his friend, who's satisfied enough. Calum stops on the threshold of the garden glass doors to give some kisses to Stitch – who came to make Ashton company as soon as he finished his food –, and then he puts the coffee mug on the dishwater. And soon enough, he's on his way out of the door. But not before snatching a tangerine from the fridge.

Ashton is left by himself once again. As he hears the sound of the front door closing, he thinks that this might be his life from now on. Just him and Stitch, trying their hardest to make it through another miserable day without the love of their lives. While everyone else comes by just to make sure he's still breathing. Breathing, maybe, but alive?

Swallowing the tears, he looks up at the sky. It's a deep, beautiful mix of orange, pink and blue, but he knows that it won't last long and soon the rain will be pouring down. He thinks about how much Olivia loves the rain.

God, he needs to pull himself together. She would hate to see him like this. Maybe he should take Calum's offer after all, he really needs to occupy his mind.

Making a mental note to thank Calum later, and also to apologize for how rude he was to him this morning, Ashton slowly gets up from the bench to put his mug on the sink and makes his way to the living room, with the small dog loyally following his every step. He puts on some cartoon that for once doesn't remind him of her (she always lovingly made fun of him for still watching those) and cuddles with Stitch on the couch. He can take a shower later.

Not half an hour goes by, he falls asleep and has a good dream for a change. He dreams of the days he spent with Olivia in the Philippines last February, right before her first world tour started. Some of the most magical days of their lives – surrounded by delicious food, a whole new culture to learn about and the warmth of the sun. Infinite counted days full of love and passion, where they were the only people in the world.

Even his subconscious knows to hold on to that brief moment of happiness, because he might never live that again.

#anna writes #perhaps she does write after all #alright i'm gonna go hide somewhere now bye #ashton irwin fanfiction #ashton irwin fic #ashton 5sos #ashton irwin x oc #5sos fanfic #5sos fic #ashton irwin imagine #5 seconds of summer #5sos imagine #anna writes: rwylm

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valwrite · 5 years ago

Text

empty lighter; daveed diggs

masterlist

summary: it’s fascinating, the things people leave behind in our lives. memories, possessions, scars, emotions. over the course of his life, daveed had collected so much from people who he’d left behind. but all he has left of her is a lighter and a broken heart.

warnings: angst, fluff, suggestive content, way too many cigarettes.

fic style: oneshot.

word count: 11.4k

author’s note: ah! it’s finally here! my first ever oneshot on this blog. hopefully, you guys enjoy reading it. is it the best writing in the world? no. but it doesn’t matter, i’m so proud of myself for actually getting back into writing, to the point where i was able to start and finish an 11k word fic. i’ve edited this over 10 times, so if there’s still an error in it, i’m going to cry. feedback, likes and reblogs are 100% appreciated!

December, 2015

Sweat was in the air and, with it, a scent one would hardly call enjoyable. With his behind comfortably sat in a cushioned bar stool, the man done his best to ignore the scenery of the busy club: the ever moving mass of bodies on the dance floor; the headache inducing remix of California Girls, which the evening's DJ was playing for what felt like the millionth time that night; the sight of his best friend hitting on some poor unsuspecting girl just trying to order drinks for herself and her friends. Instead, he focused on the drops of condensation and the pattern they left behind as they dripped down the side of his glass.

The speakers began to play yet another remix. Daveed rolled his eyes and welcomed another sip of his drink, this time not returning the glass to the counter top until the caramel liquor was all gone. The burning feeling was familiar and anchored him down in reality, a bitter yet accepted reminder that, once again, he found himself in the same situation he'd been in for over a year: alone, while being surrounded by sweating bodies. Sat at a bar, his friend off chasing some nameless girl and nothing but his loneliness, which only grew with each breath he drew, to keep him company.

His friend, Rafael, made eye contact with him and beckoned him over. So he stood but made no attempt to approach and discover whatever plan Rafa had in store for him. He knew the blonde haired man just a little too well at that point. He knew that the man was desperate to get his friend back to the state he'd been in four months prior, where every night was a thrill and an opportunity to get tangled up in some sheets with a pretty stranger and some pain numbing lust. In Rafa's weak defense, he had no idea what had switched in his friend to revert him back into a self pitying mess. He hadn't bore witness to the scene Daveed had stumbled upon all those months ago, a scene which sent him rapidly spiraling back to the rut he'd been stuck in the first two months after the break up.

Daveed shook his head, his wilder than usual curls bouncing from side to side as he focused on getting his mind off of the break up, off of the ring store, off of her. He couldn't afford another night of wasted tears. He headed in the opposite direction of Rafa and found himself breathing fresh air for the first time in hours as he stepped out on to the busy New York street. A car honked in the near distance and the street lights just about matched the neon lights which had lit up the club but Daveed felt as though a weight had been lifted off of his chest. Clubs had always been a part of his social and professional life yet recent events had left him feeling claustrophobic inside them. Maybe it was the fact that he didn't like that this was his social life again. Nights spent in clubs, mornings spent with uncaring strangers, afternoons spent in regret and nausea. Where had the nights of home cooked meals gone? The mornings he'd spent shielding his beloved from the harsh light of the rising sun? The afternoons where it didn't matter what wasted the time away, all that mattered was the hand clasped tightly in his and the woman it belonged to? He wanted them back.

Daveed wanted her back.

He'd been so consumed in his own thoughts that, when he finally focused in on his surroundings again, he was only a block away from his apartment and the club was long behind him. He figured he could text Rafa once he got inside, he'd understand why Daveed walked out. He probably already knew. A shy voice calling out his name caught his immediate attention and Daveed paused mid step. The voice seemed familiar, comforting, adoring. His breath caught in his throat and he swore he was dreaming. It took a moment or two for him to turn around and face his pursuer.

Disappointment burst forth inside him but he had to conceal the drop in his smile, especially when he noticed the young girl who was smiling at him with a gleam of excitement in her eyes and a familiar logo printed on her black t-shirt. He hadn't been dreaming, just delusional.

The fan was kind enough. She'd shyly asked him for a picture before gushing over how excited she'd been at one of last week's shows at the theater. Her brief mentioning of clipping. had meant more to Daveed than anything else she'd said, which he knew was a little selfish of him but he couldn't help it. Clipping., unlike the current Broadway show he was a part of, was truly something that was his to own. Sure, there were two other guys involved along with him, but the words he spat and the emotions and meanings laced within them were all Daveed's. To have it gain praise was a direct boost to his ego.

With a happier feeling installed in him, Daveed found himself unlocking the door to his apartment. He didn't bother untying his laces, his shoes simply being kicked off and left near the front door as he made his way into the familiar apartment. He ignored the state the place was in and dropped down on to the comfort of the leathered loveseat, finding some form of tranquility in the disorganization of his own belongings. It somehow made the place feel closer to home. Despite the fact he'd been staying there since pre-production of Hamilton, Daveed still felt disconnected. Not just to the apartment but the whole city. Perhaps, he felt too loyal to the Bay area to allow himself to get too comfortable with living on the east coast. More likely, it had to do with the fact she wasn't there with him, like she was supposed to be, like they'd both agreed.

Engraved in his mind was the memory of Y/N 's face, lit up with glee as she strolled in and out of the different rooms of the place, her voice rising in volume as she ranted and raved about all the ways they could set up the apartment- their apartment, a first of many homes together; god, just thinking of it brought a smile to his face and a dizzy feeling to his head-, and her list of all the ways they could spend any free time they could get: the little cafes they could visit, the monuments they could see, the streets they could walk. He could so vividly remember pulling her into his arms, his lips confidently claiming her own against them. He held her there for their own little infinity, one hand fisted in her hair, the other splayed out against her lower back as her own softly grabbed at his jumper and held him down to her, as if he'd ever dream of leaving her. Her soft laughter had echoed off the walls as she pulled away. He couldn't stand having his mouth off of her and settled with peppering kisses down her exposed neck whilst she jokingly accused him of just wanting her to shut up. He didn't even know how to begin to explain how far from the truth that was. That, in reality, he'd just felt such a desperate need to have her against him because he wasn't entirely sure if she was real or if the life and relationship they'd built together had been nothing but a cruel dream of his. She was too good, her love was too good and he, a man who's career was built off of his eloquence and mastering of word play, was at a complete loss for words when it came to loving her. Heavy breathing and discarded clothing was the way he'd chosen to express his love that evening, breaking in their new apartment. The very same apartment where their relationship would come to an abrupt end no more than two weeks later.

There was a pain growing in Daveed's chest, which he could only imagine was a side effect of his shattered heart attempting to continue beating. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He already knew it was Rafa before he even looked at the screen and answered the call.

“Hey man!” Rafa's cheery voice burst through the speaker and Daveed pulled the phone back from his ear, not having expected the volume of his friend’s voice or the questionable Cotton Eyed Joe remix in the background. “Where'd you go? I got a couple girls here that were looking forward to meeting you!”

“Yeah, I... I'm meeting Oak early tomorrow, got some magazine the cast is doing a shoot for.” In his own defense, Daveed wasn't lying. There was a photo shoot and he was meeting Oak in the morning but that wasn't the reason he'd left.

If Rafa knew his friend was evading the truth, he thankfully kept it to himself. “Ah, so the princess needs her beauty sleep? Your loss, man.”

“Yeah, yeah. Stop wasting your time on me and go enjoy yourself.”

“Have fun with your face masks and beauty creams! Oh, and Daveed?”

“Yeah?”

“Don't try shaving yourself tomorrow, leave it to the professionals. Don't want any nasty cuts on that precious face.”

Having hung up, Daveed carelessly flung his phone down on to the couch and watched it bounce once before laying flat on it's screen. The walls of the apartment were beginning to suffocate him, so much unfilled and unused space now suddenly feeling like it was caging him in, mocking him, taunting him with every echo of his own breathing that bounced off the walls. There was an itching in his lungs and his fingers had began to fiddle with themselves.

Daveed wasn't a particularly anxious person. Yet, anxiety was swelling in his throat and he ashamedly knew why. With his head hung low, Daveed blindly reached for the square packet and the cylinder lighter and headed straight for the balcony door. Opening it, he allowed the outside world to infiltrate his senses once more and it stole away some of his loneliness. The noise and lights and traffic were all a sign of life beyond his own, evidence that he wasn't truly alone in the world. Any loneliness he faced was product of his own creation, an isolation he'd comfortably settled with.

He hadn't put his whole life on pause. No, Daveed wasn't that careless. He woke up every morning and walked out the front door, prepared to face the day with as earnest of a smile as possible. He'd laugh with friends, speak with fans, give his all in his performances. But the feeling of longing would never truly leave him. Rafa could see it, most of the Hamilton cast too. They all knew there was an unspoken part of Daveed that was in denial of her absence. They could see it in the way his eyes never lingered much on beautiful women; in the way he kept her picture in his dressing room; in the way he still carried his part of their matching keyrings. But, what else could they do other than be there for him? She'd walked out with his lifeline and had left nothing but a Daveed shaped shell, hollow and devoid of life, just waiting for the day she walked back into his arms. He was pathetic. Foolish. Selfdestructive.

And so painfully in love with Y/N, even though it no longer seemed fair to feel that way.

The metal handrail was cold to the touch as he let his hands run over it, his eyes gazing down at the active nightlife below. His hands robotically opened the packet and out of it he pulled a cigarette. The nicotine stick found itself resting between his plush lips. The lighter was sparked up, the cigarette set a light and an inhalation of sweet smoke was taken. He'd always felt smoking alone was one of the most solemn of experiences. A couple more drags were taken before he became fixated with the lighter in his hand. He lit it up just to watch the flame dance, not a care in the world for the wasted lighter fluid. It didn't take much longer for his treacherous mind to drift towards the empty lighter inside his sock drawer and, most importantly, the memories attached to it.

A younger Daveed, freshly off stage and with sweat drying into his skin, had pushed past the drunken messes and the grinding pairs to escape for a breath of fresh air and a cigarette. Standing up in front of a crowd was a thrill, truly, but Daveed was still shy at his core and the hyperawareness of his own performance brought on a stress only nicotine could soothe.

The exit had taken him out into a back alley. The bass of whatever song was playing indoors could still be felt but the street was thankfully pretty calm, no one else there but another smoker and a couple making out further down from the door. A few steps out into the alley and he stopped, bending his right leg at the knee to perch his foot back against the brick wall as his hands occupied themselves fishing out a cigarette.

“Shit.” A curse escaped him as the realization hit that he'd forgotten to bring a lighter with him. He pulled the cigarette from his mouth and huffed, a hand running through his curls. Maybe he wouldn't be getting that stress reliever that evening after all.

“Need a light?” Daveed nearly jumped at the unexpected voice, his foot slipping off of the wall and his back straightening. When his eyes landed on a girl, who was wrapped up in an oversized jacket and had her arm outstretched with a blue lighter dangling between her fingers, he was certain she hadn't been there when he'd stepped outside. Egotistically, he wondered if she'd perhaps followed him. Stupidly, he wished she had.

Daveed caught himself before he could stare at her for too long, reluctantly pulling his eyes away from her face down to the lighter she was still offering. With gratitude, he took it from her grasp and put it to good use. Seconds later, his lungs were filling with poison and his face with relief. Turning his attention back to her, he found the girl already staring at him. Unlike most, she didn't avert her gaze in shame of being caught. She only focused more intently on him, a ghost of a smile presenting itself on her features. “Thanks, uh, pretty lucky you came out here.”

“If you want to label me following you as luck, then sure.” The calmness of her voice, the way she shrugged so nonchalantly, the way her side was resting up against the wall and her eyes were shamelessly trailing over him were a hypnotic mixture strong enough for Daveed to nearly miss the words she'd spoke. Had he missheard or had she actually followed him? Freaked out would be the normal response. Flattery is what took it's place in Daveed, though. “That was quite a performance, very... lively.”

“Yeah,” A chuckle escaped him and his free hand shot up to rub the back of his neck. “that was one of our tamer crowds, believe it or not. Glad you enjoyed it.”

“I never said I enjoyed it.” The smile had slipped from her face, visually punctuating her words. Then, much to Daveed's relief, she broke out in a fit of giggles and the friendliness in her voice had returned. “I'm only messing! You were amazing but, honestly, the other two of your group are the unsung heroes. They really held it down.”

Daveed wasn't about to deny her statement, knowing fine well just how vital the two men were to him. If he were the ink, they were the paper he wrote on and the pen that encapsulated him. Her praise for them only made Daveed enjoy her company more.

From there, the two continued to partake in casual conversation: her asking about how long clipping. had been a thing, him asking her about her studies and the cold air of the night slowly urging the two to stand closer and closer and closer. There was laughter in the air and comfort in their bones, almost as if the two had been lifelong friends catching up and not two strangers meeting in a back alley. Daveed had long finished his cigarette and he knew his friends would be wondering where he'd disappeared to but he wasn't ready to walk away from the conversation, from her, and so out he pulled another, perching it between his lips. He hadn't had the chance to ask for her lighter, she'd beat him to it and sparked it up. He bent at the knee a little as he leaned down, both of them sharing eye contact whilst she held the flame to it. This time around, Daveed offered the cigarette packet out to her, hoping to repay her in some way.

“I don't smoke, but thanks.”

“You don't smoke, but you carry around a lighter?” His head tilted off to the side and a cheeky grin overtook his face. “You're kinda weird.”

“And you're a charmer, aren't you?” She rebutted, though no offence was really taken. “You're not the only smoker who forgets to bring a lighter. My boyfriend has a habit of doing it, so I carry one around for him.”

The window of hope inside of his mind was shattered by one simple word. Boyfriend. Of course she was taken. She was the kind of girl who you met in the morning and were in love with come the evening.

“Anyways,” Her voice interrupted his disappointment. “you distracted me from the reason I followed you out here!”

“Yeah? And what reason was that?”

“My friend thinks you're hot. Well, no, actually, I believe the exact words she used were "If he can rap that fast, I wonder what else he can do with his tongue. I don't usually climb trees but I could make an exception if the tree looks like him."” She'd used air quotes to signal just what her friend had said and, for the first time since the two had met, Daveed felt bashful. He hadn't expected her to say such a thing, even if it was just mimicking her friend.

“And you wouldn't happen to be this friend?” Daveed teased.

“I prefer my men on the shorter side, thank you very much." Her tongue darted out at him and he laughed. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had someone stick their tongue out as an insult. Maybe in third grade? "My friend wants your number, though. And also wanted me to subtly convince you to invite us to come sit at your table but I'm really too tired to be subtle so, please just invite us.”

They'd returned inside not too long after, together, and off she'd gone to grab her friend to drag her over to Daveed's table. And while her friend was beautiful and flirting with Daveed the whole night, he found himself staring over at the girl from the alley every chance he got. He'd watched her do shots with Jonathan, watched as she and Rafa competed in a thumb war, watched as she'd knocked back a shot as her forfeit for losing. At some point in the night, Daveed had asked for her name and, at another point, she'd told him it was Y/N. And when he finally stumbled back into his own bed that night, his eyes staring up at his ceiling as he flipped the blue lighter in his hand, he thought of her.

Wetness dropped onto his hand and tore Daveed away from the memory playing on repeat in his mind. A single tear sat atop his hand and, in the other, a finished cigarette. Stubbing it out, he dropped the bud into a nearby ashtray and centered himself. Tears stung at his eyes and his breath was shaky but he was determined to push through and talk himself out of a full on breakdown.

Hours later, when sleep was finally coming for him and the warmth of his duvets embraced him instead of her arms, his wandering hands reached deep inside his drawer and pulled out the blue lighter as his eyes slipped shut and his mind drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

A blaring song and a loud buzzing noise woke Daveed up in a startle. He sat up, eyes still half shut and the duvet slipping down his naked chest. The noise persisted and he realized it was his own ringtone, playing from the pocket of his discarded jeans. He cursed under his breath when he stepped out of the bed, his foot landing on something uncomfortable before eventually meeting the soft carpet and giving him the leverage to reach the bottom of his trousers, dragging them over to find his phone screen lit up with Oak's name painted across the screen.

“What do you want?” Daveed was never a morning person and had no shame in this, especially when his sleep was interrupted.

“Good morning Oak! How are you? Oh I'm fine Daveed, how are you?” The overly chipper voice of Okieriete birthed a groan out of Daveed as he dropped back onto the bed behind him.

“It's too early for this, dude.”

“It's ten minutes away from being noon!”

“I rest my case.”

“C'mon man, we were supposed to be catching a ride together to head to the shoot. Now our car is ten minutes away and I arrive at your doorstep to find you're not even awake, never mind ready.” Oak's words were followed by a series of knocks, which Daveed could hear through the phone but also coming faintly from outside his bedroom.

“Shit.” Realizing that, amidst the flurry of pity and nicotine, he'd forgotten to set his alarm, Daveed begrudgingly pulled himself out of bed, tired legs with muscles stiff from sleep carrying him all the way over to the front door of his apartment, all the while Oak berated him over the phone and knocked away at the wood. Twisting the keys, Daveed pulled the door open at last and found Oak stood there, fist raised in mid knock.

“You look like shit.” Oak proceeded to brush past him and, after closing his front door again, Daveed followed the man to find him with his hand knuckle deep in a tub of peanut butter.

“Please, make yourself at home.” It was no more than a mutter under his breath but Oak had heard it and responded with a peanut butter coated middle finger.

The crappy coffee maker was switched on and Daveed went back into the messy bedroom. He'd just pulled some sweatpants over his legs when he heard Oak calling out to him from the kitchen. Slipping one of his t-shirts on, from his ever growing collection of Oakland attire, he made his way back over to the man and the freshly brewed coffee- which, without a doubt, was not going to be warm enough nor sweet enough- only to find his friend had abandoned the jar of peanut spread and instead was flicking through his mail. Despite this, a sip of underwhelming caffeine was more of a priority than questioning Oak.

“Who's Raquel and why is she inviting you to her wedding?” Now that, that was certainly more important than coffee.

Dropping his mug back onto the counter with almost enough force to shatter it, Daveed dove forward and ripped the envelope out of Oak's hands. Just like he'd said, inside of it was a wedding invitation from one Raquel Castro. The very same girl who'd once sent her friend to ask for his number. The very same girl who'd helped him plan out his first date with her best friend. The very same girl who'd been sneakily finding out what Y/N's ring size was only two months before his world came crashing down.

Given the memories he'd recalled the night before, part of Daveed couldn't help but think this invitation was more than a simple coincidence. A week after the break up, Raquel had called him. She'd been angry and accusatory with her words but it stemmed from her own confusion and inability to comprehend why things had ended so hastily between him and Y/N. Daveed couldn't understand it himself either. The call had ended up being the first thing to make him smile in his new found singleness. The two had maintained frequent contact from there on out, casual texts sent between them both just around once every month, Raquel had even taken a trip into New York with her fiancé and stopped by one of the Hamilton performances. But this invite, it had to be some sort of sign from the universe, a sign involving Y/N. Unfortunately, Daveed had not a single clue how to interpret this sign.

It took him a total of nine days to RSVP for the ceremony, playing out the pros and cons of his attendance. The fact Y/N would likely be there was the only pro that was also a con, and vice versa. Maybe he'd find some closure or, at the very least, answers to the questions he'd had on his mind since the day she'd slammed the door shut on their love. More likely, he'd spend the whole night alone at the singles table, nursing some old whiskey and watching her dance the night away in another man's arms.

January, 2016

This time, the DJ seemed to be enamored with some niche European techno music and Lin, a sweating mess on the relatively small dance floor, had become his number one fan. Next to the dancing maniac were the so called Schuyler Sisters, Jasmine and Reneé were busy taking turns dancing with the long haired man whilst Phillipa was losing herself in laughter between videoing the lot of them. Scattered along the club were the rest of the cast and crew. In fact, most of the people Daveed held closest to him were there, all banding together to celebrate something they had in common: him.

For them, it was the celebration of his 34th birthday. For him, it was a pity party for his 2nd birthday in a row without Y/N by his side.

He'd made a vow to not be bitter that night and focus on being grateful for what and who he did have in his life. Thus far, he'd done a good job. For the first night out in months, Daveed hadn't spent the night sat at the bar alone. He'd danced with friends and done shots with strangers and flirted with beautiful women. But it was hard to ignore the elephant in the room. All of his friends were there with their significant others whilst he was there with his bottle of champagne.

Tilting the bottle back, Daveed welcomed the bubbled drink in and gulped several times before dropping it back onto one of the many tables they'd all occupied. Just as he made the decision to stop thinking about her, destiny or the universe or whatever higher being was out there decided it was time for his birthday present.

He could hear the group of girls long before he could see them. A ruckus of screeching and slurred words was approaching and, from the neon bracelets and the sashes draped across scantily clad chests, it was clear as day to him that a bridal party had just entered the building, and they were far from subtle.

His curious eyes found themselves scanning over each girl of the bridal party as they filtered their way over to the other side of the VIP lounge. They were a sea of nameless faces, hooting and cheering like a bunch of frat guys on a night out and, as easy as it would be to find them irritating, Daveed couldn't help but chuckle and enjoy the fact that other people were having a great night. Until his eyes drifted to the back of the group.

At first, it just felt like a coincidence. A dress, laced with familiarity and the color red, which he was sure he'd seen before. But, then again, there were tons of red dresses in the world. Then, the girl looked up from her phone and Daveed felt the wind get knocked out from beneath his feet. Clinging to the table in front of him for support, he watched her smile at her friend.

It was the kind of smile he used to pull from her, whilst they were both spread out on each end of the sofa and a terribly romantic movie playing in the background of their happiness. He'd cheesily recite lines from the movie to her and revel in the way he could still make her blush, even if she hid it with a cringe. And when he'd agree to stop, he'd always tell her he loved her. No cheesy lines, no big words or unrealistic speeches that took place in airports. Just a flat out, honest, sincere “I love you”. Y/N would just smile and he'd already know she loved him back, no words needed.

“Wow buddy, you alright there?” The distinguishable voice of Anthony Ramos cut through Daveed's reminiscing yet his eyes never left her. He was frozen in time, hyper focused on each gesture she made. Most of all, he was desperately trying to spot the ring on her finger. “You look like you've seen a ghost.”

Daveed bit back a comment about the ghost being from his past, of a life he could have had. Grabbing a half filled shot glass, he threw it’s contents down his throat, not even grimacing as the liquor stung his nerves. “I'm great. Just tired. S'been a long day, y'know?” His words were a little more unsteady and slurred than he would have preferred but Daveed was sure he'd sounded convincing enough.

“Shots! Shots! Shots!” Anthony chanted enthusiastically over the music, gaining a few glares and side-eye glances from surrounding tables. He truly was the human equivalent of a beagle: energetic, kinda short, great with kids. “Let's go do some! Shots always work great if you're feeling tired.”

“How 'bout you go order us some then, Ant?” Daveed said, at last tearing his eyes away from Y/N and her red dress. “I'm just... Gonna go to the bathroom real quick.”

Daveed would have felt bad for lying to Anthony, he really would have, but he just needed a breath of fresh air. And maybe a dose of poison in his lungs. Out of everyday in which he could have ended up in the same city, in the same club, in the same section as Y/N, of course it had to be the night he'd sworn off thinking about her. How cruel fate seemed to him, not allowing him a break from sorrow.

The January air had a chill to it when it embraced Daveed as he stepped out on to the small balcony, which was really just a metal enclosure that looked as if it was violating some kind of health and safety code. The club music was still audible but it was playing in sync with noise of the city. A siren was ringing in some distance. He placed his vice between his lips, ready to light it up when-

“What's the birthday boy doing out here all alone? Not throwing a pity party, I hope.”

Daveed jolted and watched as the cigarette, now having slipped out of his mouth, fell to the balcony floor and dropped through the metal caging. Biting back a curse, he finally noticed the black satin and a familiar head of blonde hair. She hadn't changed much since the last time he'd seen her. Yet again, it hadn't been long since she'd come to see Hamilton. “Raquel!” His enthusiasm was honest, as was the care he put into the hug he pulled her into.

“If only everyone was this excited to see me, the world would be a better place.” Raquel exclaimed, drawing back from his embrace and cautiously leaning against the handrail, tilting her head down as she looked over the edge. “Didn't mean to startle you, sorry.” A sheepish smile appeared. “But, hey, at least Y/N can no longer claim that I enable your smoking!”

Daveed realized then and there that it was no coincidence that Raquel had come up to him. Sure, it was his birthday, and sure, they were friends. But Daveed had been blatantly staring at his ex, her best friend, and clearly he'd been caught. If if weren't for the calming nature of her voice or the way she looked at him with equal amounts of kindness and pity, Daveed would have walked away from the conversation before it could even begin. But, it was too late now.

“Remember that trip we all took to Cancún? Where she threw the cigarettes you bought me in the bin?” For the first time, Daveed was sharing memories of her with someone else. For months, his reminiscing had been silent, not unnoticed but not shared either. It was almost like he'd been in mourning for so long and, now, he was finally ready to start celebrating the life he'd lost.

“How could I forget? She still owes me ten dollars.” Raquel laughed and he followed, even if he didn't find any humor in their conversation. His was an empty laugh. “Oh! Right! I actually needed to talk to you about something!”

“I'm all ears.”

“It's about the catering at the wedding. I know you're Jewish but I can't remember if you're kosher. Just in case you want us to mark anything non-kosher at the reception.”

“Ah,” Daveed nodded, silently appreciating that she'd even taking the time to ask him. “Don't worry, I'm not that strict about it. Honestly. Thanks for asking though.” By then he'd drawn and lit a cigarette, this time managing to not drop it. He let his eyes scan over her and he found himself unable to stop the small smile which took over his face at the sight of her bridal party wear. “The wedding isn't until August, isn't it a bit early to start up the bachelorette party?”

“This isn't my party, Diggs.” She rebutted, bumping his shoulder with her own as she stole a sip from her champagne flute. “It's a friend of mine's. That's actually why we're in New York.”

They didn't need to define who we was referring to, Daveed knew it was Y/N. If it were even possible, his heart stuttered over a beat. The question was at the tip of his tongue, longing for him to just get it over with. Rip the band-aid off, open up his wound and let it bleed out. Is it her wedding? Somehow, the answer seemed scarier than the question. “Seems everyone's getting married off then, huh?” Like a coward, he never asked.

“What about you, mister Broadway? Any lucky lady in your life?” Surely she knew the answer, considering he hadn't added a plus one on to his wedding reservation.

“No, uh, been too busy. Shows 'n stuff, y'know?” He said, not even convincing himself of his own excuses. And, from the pitiful look she was giving him and the hand she'd placed on his forearm, Raquel wasn't believing him either.

“Have you talked to her, at all? Since things ended between you guys...” She paused, as if searching for the right way to word things. “I just think you guys at least deserve some closure. Your relationship didn't even properly come to an end. One day, you guys were together, the next, well, you were over. Two years of building a life together can't just stop all of a sudden.” Daveed remained silent and Raquel took this as a sign to keep talking. “Sorry if you think it's not my place to say all this. I've been trying to tell her for months now to talk to you but she just won't listen. Not even when we came to your show.”

That had spiked his attention and his eyes widened. His show. The theater. Hamilton. She'd been there, somewhere in the mass of the audience. In anger, he wished he'd spotted her. In pain, he wished she'd have let him know. Now here was their friend, her friend, asking him to talk to her and get closure for them both. Even if it hurt him to think that Y/N was suffering, it hurt him more to think of them truly being over. And that's exactly what closure meant. The end of things. Daveed wasn't ready for her to become a part of his past yet. Besides, last time he'd seen her, Y/N seemed to be doing just fine, with or without closure.

Both of his hands were full from the tray of beverages in to-go cups he'd been sent to purchase for the cast, meaning Daveed had to shoulder his way out of the corner cafe, all the while cursing the fact he'd ever agreed to take part in the childish game of rock, paper, scissors. He'd drawn rock and wound up losing to the rest of the cast's papers. Laughter had echoed as he walked out the theater with a list of everyone's order.

A frustrated sigh escaped Daveed as he lowered the trays onto an outdoor table. Sitting unevenly on the pavement, the table wobbled. Those short three seconds had Daveed near crippled in panic as he watched the drinks shake, some almost toppling over completely. Luckily, they all stayed up right and he wasn't about to find himself buying a whole new order.

“C'mon, c'mon, hurry up.” He muttered under his breath, fingers drumming against the side of his legs, eyes staring down the street with a desperation to spot the familiar face of a fellow Hamilton cast member. He'd texted the group-chat just about ten minutes ago, someone should have been on their way to help him carry the order back.

The blaring of a horn had Daveed looking up from his phone screen. An elderly man was cursing out some taxi driver as he crossed the road, stick waving in the air as unfiltered words fell from his lips. Maybe, if Daveed hadn't stared at the scene before him for so long, he would have never noticed the jewelers directly across the street from him.

Maybe he would have never noticed a man and woman inside the store. Him, with his arm around her shoulder, and her, with her eyes fixated on the display of rings in front of her, and both with smiles brighter than any collapsing star. He watched, throat dry and limbs heavy, as the attendant in the store helped the woman slide on the ring. The engagement ring. She nodded, just one nod, and that's all it took for Daveed's world to implode. Of course, the couple were completely unaware of the heartbreak they were causing as they waited for the ring to be wrapped and bagged. The man had eagerly pulled out his credit card, as if he couldn't wait a second longer to purchase it, and the woman welcomed the bag into her waiting hands, like she was desperate to return the ring to it's rightful home: her left ring finger.

It was selfish, Daveed knew that, but he'd been hoping Y/N was just as torn up by their break up as he still was.

Instead, she was engaged. To another man, another future.

“There you are! God, this place was further than I expected.” Daveed turned his head to see one of the ensemble members, Ariana, approaching him. She smiled and he done his best to return the gesture. “Alright, what ones am I carrying?”

“Oh. Uh,” He blindly grabbed two of the sets of drinks, offering them to her. “these ones. I got the rest.��

“Okay! Let's go, pretty sure poor Leslie is gonna pass out from exhaustion if he doesn't get his dose of coffee soon.” Daveed hesitated following her and, instead, stared back over at the other side of the street. He found the store was now empty of customers and Y/N was no longer there. “Hello? Earth to Daveed!”

“Huh?”

“You okay there? You were just staring off into space for like, 2 minutes.”

“Yeah. Yes.” He swallowed the ball of emotion pent up in his throat and walked over to her, ignoring the little voice in his head telling him to look back. It just wanted to torture him some more. “Just,” He sighed. “thought I saw someone.”

“If she doesn't want to talk, then there's no reason for me to do it. Maybe it's just better for us both if we keep to ourselves.” The reality was that Daveed didn't think he'd be able to get through talking to her even if she did want to speak about it. Not when he'd spend the whole time staring at her hands, at the rock resting on her finger, at the pledge of love and fidelity she'd given to someone else. “So, how's wedding planning been treating you? You excited to just get it over with?”

“A hundred percent!” Raquel laughed and he relaxed, thankful for the fact she'd let him change the topic of conversation. “Don't get me wrong, some of the planning has been fun. Cake tasting? I highly recommend it. And I've got her learning salsa for our first dance. But, yeah, venue planning and the cost of it all has been a bit of a bummer. I'll be glad to never have to do that again.”

“Salsa? Great choice, bring a little flavor into the whole traditional wedding dancing.”

“Yeah! Fuck swaying side to side awkwardly, I'm putting on a performance! It's been a messy journey, planning everything. Even just something as simple as seating arrangements, who the hell knew it was such a process to organize all that crap?” She threw her hands up, the remainder of her champagne sloshing inside of the glass. “But it'll be worth it when I walk down the aisle with her. We're gonna put all other brides to shame in our dresses. Shit, sorry, all I talk about recently is the wedding! You can tell me to stop if you want.”

“It's fine, no worries. You're happy, it's nice.” He felt a tug at his heartstrings all of a sudden, very aware of the fact of how much had changed since the two had first met. It really did fill him with joy to see her so happy. “You deserve it, Kelly.”

“You know I hate being called that, David.” The two old friends laughed in unison after she lightly kicked him with her heeled foot, not even hard enough to leave a scuff on his jeans. “It's crazy, you know, that just about four years ago I was trying to get in your pants. And now I'm a few months away from getting married! To the love of my life! I mean, she's honestly the best thing that's ever happened to me, D, you have no idea.”

He had an idea and it was somewhere else inside the busy club, wrapped in red and the familiar scent of coconut- it had always been her favorite - but he wasn't sure he was allowed to speak about her like Raquel spoke about her fiancé. That was reserved for someone else now. He also held back on pointing out the pitiful fact that it seemed people who pursued him would wind up engaged afterwards.

At some point, they both went their separate ways, back to their respective groups. Daveed eventually threw caution to the wind, a fresh wound on his soul after having seen Y/N urging him on. Every drink he was handed ended up down his throat and, somehow, Lin managed to rope him into dancing to the shitty music with him. They all danced, cramped together in the limited space like canned tuna. When the last song was played, when the last drink had been poured, when the last cab had been hailed, a very intoxicated Daveed found himself stumbling into the apartment of a stranger wrapped in red. The fact she smelt like sweat and lavender was the only downside.

If he hadn't drank so much or gotten so reckless and careless, perhaps his phone wouldn't have been left abandoned among glitter and emptied glasses in the deserted club, it's screen lit up with two notifications:

00:49 am (+81) 03-3***-****: happy birthday, d. i'm glad to see you're having a fun night!

02:18 am (+81) 03-3***-****: you're wearing my favorite shirt of yours.

August, 2016

The sun setting over the horizon burned at Daveed's tired eyes as he stepped off the plane, thankful to be home yet dreading the next day. The whole flight over he'd practically gone through the works of all possible emotions he could feel towards his impending future. Excited, saddened, nervous, happy, frustrated, nervous again. Every possible scenario had played through his mind, ones where the two did not speak, others were they done nothing but speak and one, shamefully, where they done something but it was not speaking.

The wedding was one sleep away and he was no more prepared to be in such close proximity of Y/N than he had been the night of the club or the day on the sidewalk.

His dad had picked him up from the airport, lending him a hand with his limited luggage and pulling his cherished son into a warm hug. The whole drive back to his father's home had been filled with playing catch up, Daveed sharing stories of his cast mates and his father telling him about his new hobby of coaching a local junior basketball team. Daveed was grateful for his dad not asking about Y/N. If it had been his mother, all intentions pure and caring, she would have began to question him on the matter the second he was strapped in to his seat and unable to escape.

His parents had always liked Y/N, that was for sure. And, while it had been a blessing during their relationship to see his mother dote over her like she were her own daughter or to witness her beat his dad at guitar hero, it had become a curse when things had ended. The way things ended did not make matters any better. His own mother had given Daveed the silent treatment for a whole two days after he explained to her how things had gone down.

He fell asleep that night, his bag opened yet not unpacked, in the guest bedroom of his father's home. A belly full of pizza and beer, mind full of worry and doubt.

Hours later, after a shower, a shave and a shit ton of stressing as he pulled on his suit, Daveed found himself parked outside the venue. Finding a parking space had been stressful enough but it was nothing compared to the on-going battle between him and his crooked tie. It had only hit him that morning just how long it had been since he'd had to tie his own tie, too accustomed to his new normal of having a stylist dress him for most formal occasions. Before that, he'd had Y/N.

A few months into their relationship, when he finally felt confident enough to meet her parents, she'd went out of her way to learn exactly how to tie a tie and she'd wordlessly done it for him that evening, his hands too shaky and his nerves too on edge. From there onward, he'd purposefully mess up only to have her stand so close, where he could comfortably lay his hand to rest on her lower back as she worked away at sorting the piece of cloth around his neck.

“That's as good as it's gonna get.” The quiet of his car was filled with his disappointed voice as the less crooked tie stared back at him through the rear view mirror. Despite his words, he gave it one last tug and stepped out of the car.

He hadn't expected to be recognized by so many familiar faces. He probably should have expected some though, these were people who'd been friends to him once upon a time ago. To add tension to an already tense situation, everyone that felt the need to come up to him was dancing around the fact things had ended between him and Y/N and that was why they'd stopped talking to him.

“It's been so long since I've seen you! I've just been swamped with work, you know? And, New York! You were on Broadway. How's Broadway? Must be exciting to be on Broadway!” They'd all have the same excuses to avoid the obvious: they were Y/N's friends first and they'd be hers till the end.

Daveed wished he believed it when he told himself he didn't mind that.

The venue of the ceremony was breathtakingly beautiful and, now sat among (luckily) unfamiliar faces, Daveed took the chance to fully appreciate the scenery.

It was being held within a greenhouse, and in almost every inch of the place there was a strike of greenery. The surrounding walls were made up solely of glass windows, serving as a source of natural light. At the end of the aisle, where the exchanging of vows, crying of happy tears and giving of rings would be taking place, was a beautiful water display, with water so fresh looking it appeared drinkable. And the air? It was smothered in the scent of life: blossoming buds and flourishing flowers and ripening fruits. Splashes of red and yellow, of blue and lilac, of pink and orange effortlessly added more class and detail into the green venue.

If the venue was breathtaking, the ceremony was heartbreakingly tender.

The two teary eyed brides had walked down the aisle with the person they'd chosen to give them away and, by the time they were both facing each other at the makeshift altar, Daveed could already see a stray tear falling down Raquel's cheek. At that, he smiled. And stayed smiling throughout the whole ceremony. Until it came to Raquel's vows. At some point in her big proclamation of love, she began speaking about how her and her bride had first met, about how she hadn't even realized she was being hit on by her and how, when she was asked for her number, Raquel thought she'd just wanted to be friends. She spoke of how two dear friends of her's told her she was being asked out on a date, not just to hang out as friends.

For the first time during the ceremony, Daveed finally looked directly at where Y/N stood in front of the other bridesmaids. He watched as a stray tear slid down her cheek, one she quickly tried to brush away, and her hands tightened around the bouquet they were wrapped around. His own eyes were welling up with tears in just a few seconds. While they weren't the only two in the room carrying tears in their eyes, they were the only two who's tears were made up of missed chances and broken promises and pure, untamed sadness. After all, they’d been there to witness the first meeting of the brides. They’d been together then and now, they were further apart than the stars above.

He'd told himself he'd just steal one last glance at her, remember her as she was next to the altar, all dressed up and looking beautiful albeit sad. His eyes lifted. And there was Y/N staring right back at him, a couple more tears already having fallen from her eyes. The eye contact never wavered between them both and, for the first time in a while, Daveed felt like he was actually being seen for who he really was. And when she smiled, he fell apart.

A tear finally escaped it's cage but Daveed made no attempt to wipe it away.

One luxurious meal later, and quite a few drinks from the open bar, Daveed sat in the very same situation he'd predicted. At the singles table- which was pretty depressing given who his company for the evening was -, with some girl he'd met about an hour ago talking his ears off about her job which he hadn't even asked about, a drink he’d been nursing for half an hour in his hand and his eyes hyper-focused on the dance floor. Taking another sip, he drowned out the stranger’s voice and watched how Y/N laughed at something her dance partner had whispered in her ear.

This was how Daveed had chosen to enjoy the reception: playing a game of “Guess Who’s Marrying The Love Of Your Life?” with every man who so much as approached her. He was thankful her duties as maid of honor kept her so busy, she’d yet to have the chance to notice his incessant watching.

Deciding he’d spotted the fiancé of his kryptonite- the man she’d been dancing with for just over twenty minutes, who she’d been sat next to during the meal, who seemed to make her laugh just as hard as Daveed once had - he pushed back his chair, straightened out the jacket of his suit and headed for his destination.

Heavy footsteps, fists clenched, breathing erratic, Daveed stepped out into the fresh air and made his way over to the concrete railing of the balcony, a balcony far more sturdy and well designed than the one he’d stumbled onto back in January.

The silence and lonesomeness wrapped themselves around Daveed like the softest, warmest blanket on a winter's eve. For the first time since he'd arrived at the wedding celebrations, he'd found a window of peace for himself to take a moment and breathe. Recalling the conversation he'd shared with Rafa before he left for the airport- in which Rafa had been hyping him up and reassuring him he'd enjoy more than regret attending -, Daveed had to admit to himself that he was proud of how he'd done so far. Maybe not in the past hour of self pity with a side of substance abuse, but other than that he'd held himself together pretty well. He'd congratulated Raquel and her official wife, even sharing a dance with both of the women; he'd rekindled friendships, once he and they managed to push past the original discomfort of not having spoken in so long; he'd met some interesting strangers with fascinating stories; he'd ate some of the most lucrative meals he'd ever tasted and bore witness to a demonstration of pure love.

He was enjoying himself.

The only thing that made the evening unpleasant was when he'd finally zeroed in on Y/N and her smile; and the way the lights were making her eyes sparkle; and the way her dress was draped over her skin effortlessly.

The alcohol was beginning to take an effect on him, his mind becoming a little resentful towards Y/N. He'd never once hated her, even if it had been she who'd called quits on them, but he couldn't help blame her now for his situation. How was it fair that she got to move on with her life while he still could barely sit in the same room as her and keep his eyes from watching her every move, her every gesture?

“Shit.” Daveed huffed out over the sound of crickets and the muffled sound of the celebratory music, just as his lighter gave up on him and decided it would not be lighting up the cigarette for him this evening.

“We need to stop meeting this way.” He hated the way the resentment left him with as little as seven words. “People are going to start calling us predictable.”

Sure enough, when Daveed spun on his heel to face the balcony doors, there she was in all her glory, arm stretched out and lighter in hand. He wondered if she carried it around for her new man. Out here, her eyes were a lot less sparkling, her dress a lot less light, her smile a lot less wide but Daveed didn't find her any less ethereal. He never did.

“Uh,” She'd cleared her throat and Daveed felt embarrassment creep in. Here she was, perfectly composed and unaffected by him, whilst he was just as nervous as the day they had their first date; the day he'd first told her he loved her; the day he asked her to move to New York. “thank you.” He plucked the lighter from her and hit the clipper.

“No problem.” She took a sip of the glass in her hand and approached him more, till they were stood in parallel, shoulders an inch away from brushing, staring off into the dark abyss of the night that lay past the grounds of the vibrant wedding. “I see you got stuck sitting next to cousin Delia. On a score of one to ten, how bad is your headache?” Why was it so easy for her to joke around with him?

“Probably a solid seven. She talks a lot but at least there's never time for awkward silence with her.” He pulled in a drag and held back a groan when not even the nicotine could untense his muscles. “The ceremony was beautiful, you must be so happy for Raquel.”

“Yeah.” She sighed dreamily, head turning back to look at the balcony door, as if she were remembering just how beautiful indoors was. “I'm so glad everything went smoothly, they were both so stressed during the planning but it turned out exactly how they wanted.”

“They're lucky to have each other.” Why couldn't he see her engagement ring? Was she hiding it from him, out of pity? Did she know he was hung up on her? Daveed had spent so many months missing her only to resent the time he was spending with her. Stood on that balcony, hardly any space between them, Y/N had never felt further away. “So, how've you been? Like, work and shit.”

“I've been... good. Yeah, good.” There was a pause and they stood in silence, her staring off into space, him staring at her face. “I took the job, in the end, so there's that. Moved to Japan, got to have some new experiences and make new friends. Tried Sashimi, realized I do not like Sashimi. Oh! I got to watch cherry blossoms bloom. Just, yeah, I've been good.” She didn't tell him what he'd wanted to hear about. “How about you?”

“I've been great. Honestly. Work has been on the up and up since the show opened on Broadway, I’ve got some acting jobs lined up. Done some photo-shoots, made more music. Every night, there was another celebrity in the crowd. I mean, the President invited us to perform in the white house. I've been great in other parts of my life too, made some incredibly interesting friends.” Is everything Daveed wishes he said.

Instead, he said this: “Awful. I've been doing shit, for a while now.”

“D.” He couldn't help but hate the fact she called him by that. “I don't think we should get into this at Raquel's weddi-”

“Then when, Y/N?” Oh, he had not meant to sound so confrontational. Unfortunately, the little voice in his head that made up his ego was enticing him to keep going. “Ten years from now? Fifty? Oh, or should we do it at your wedding? I can't put this off any longer, alright? I'm miserable and,” He tried to compose himself, eyes squeezed shut and hands shoved in pockets. “and it's your fault. So no, we're having this conversation. You don't get to just meet someone new and act like what happened between us meant nothing, whilst I'm left frozen in a time where a reality TV star isn't our President and you're mine. Ok? I need to move on but I can't if we don't get closure.”

“It's my fault? Meet someone new!?” She was using the same tone of voice she'd used that night, when the fight to end it all first broke out. “Daveed, you ended things between us, not me. Or did you forget?”

“Weird, I don't remember breaking up with a guy named Daveed and slamming the door shut on my way out.” He stepped back, dropping the wasted cigarette into an ashtray. “But I remember you doing something along those lines.”

“Well, do you remember the part where your girlfriend told you she'd just been offered her dream job and all you had to say was that you two needed to break up?”

“The job was in Tokyo!”

“Oh! So, it was okay when I made the sacrifice of moving to New York with you but you couldn't just deal with some long-distance dating?”

“What did you want me to say, Y/N?” Up until then, their voices had been rising in volume but this time Daveed was softly spoken. “I was happy for you. But I also realized how much things wouldn't work between us. Between Broadway and you being all the way in Japan and the time difference, when would there be time for us?”

“If you really want something, there's always a way.” Y/N said, resting her back against the balcony ledge. “Maybe you just didn't want us, enough.”

“You didn't have to leave though.” He followed suit, back against ledge and feet crossed. “Yeah, I messed up and said something I didn't mean out of fear of losing you, but you didn't have to take my advice and actually walk out the door.”

“How was I supposed to stay after that? It stung, D. I thought you had more faith in us. But you weren't wrong, I guess hearing you say we'd have to break up made me realize just how much the job change would really effect us both. I think we both played our part in ending things- Oh my god, I'm so sorry!” One second, Daveed had been quietly reflecting on her every word. The next, spilled champagne was seeping through his white shirt.

“It's, uh, fine. No worries. I'll just go try get this off me.”

“Let me help!”

As a man, Daveed was shocked to see just how perfectly clean and nice smelling the female restroom was. Everything seemed to sparkle in the light. He had traded leaning his back against the balcony banister for leaning it against the counter top of the sinks, his own hands wiping at his shirt with paper towels Y/N was handing him. She'd quickly and carefully dragged him into the toilets and stripped him of his suit jacket, all the while apologizing again and again for having soaked him.

Surprisingly, he didn't care.

“You can be honest with me, you know.” He glanced at her before refocusing on his shirt. They'd been talking lightly, of things that held no real value but were preferred over the discussion on the balcony. “You can tell me if you found someone new.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Nothing, really. I just, I saw you. A few months ago. You were getting fitted for an engagement ring with some man at your side.”

“Do you mean my cousin? Who was planning a proposal for his girlfriend?” He could see the amusement on her lips as she handed him another paper towel. He felt his heart rate pick up. “My turn. Why didn't you answer my text? If you were doing so bad, wouldn't you want to talk it out as soon as possible?”

“Text? What text?”

“The one I sent you on your birthday? We were in the same club but, I don't think you saw me.”

“Oh, I saw you. I think you were all I saw that night.” He instantly regretted what he said. “I mean, I lost my phone that night. Haven't seen it since.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

Silence kept them apart for the rest of the time. Eventually, Daveed decided his shirt was as dry as it was going to get. Then, he felt it. Y/N, without missing a beat, reached up and adjusted his tie. Both their breaths caught in their throats. The silence between them became tension. In a matter of seconds, everything was turned around, literally. She was hoisted up on the counter and he was stood between her spread legs, his hands on her hips and hers going back and forth between running through his hair and gripping on to his damp shirt. They were doing their best to keep quiet, swapping moaning out for heavy breathing.

Daveed was struggling to think straight, between the familiarity of her skin and the scent of coconut, it was as if they'd spent no time apart. Suddenly, anyone else he'd slept with between their break up and now hadn't really counted and this was the first time he was being touched in years.

When it was over, he was speechless and she was incapable of not speaking.

“Okay, so, um, I'll sneak out first and then you just, wait in here for five minutes. Then slip out. That way, no one has to see us both exit the bathroom together. Okay, great catching up, see you when I see you. Bye!”

By the time he came back to his senses, he was stood alone in the female bathroom, the top button of his shirt undone and his tie discarded on the floor. He shoved it into his back pocket and slipped on the jacket of his suit, not bothering to even discreetly leave the toilets. Luckily, no one noticed him.

Returning to the event hall, he instantly began his search for Y/N but he failed to spot any sign of her. Had she vanished into thin air? Had she even been there?

“If you're looking for Y/N, she just bolted out of here like the floor was on fire. Pretty sure she called a cab but you didn't hear that from me.” He turned to find Raquel staring at him, a smile on her face. “Stop wasting time on staring at me and go get her, lover boy.”

Daveed did not need to be told twice, his history with running track kicking in as he raced out of the hall. He sped down the corridor, dodging any oncoming guests before he burst out of the doors, stepping out into the fresh air. He could see her in the distance, standing with her arms around herself as she shifted from side to side.

“Y/N!” Daveed yelled out as he ran over to her. When she made no attempt to move away from him, he felt hope begin to rise in his soul. “Why'd you leave?”

“Daveed, we don't have to do this. In fact, we shouldn't do this.”

“Have coffee with me.”

“D, I don't-”

“One coffee, that's it. You can even get it in a to-go cup. Y/N, it's just coffee, I'm not asking for your hand in marriage.” He loved the way she was struggling to hold back a smile. “So, what do you say?”

August, 2020

The world from his garden felt calm, peaceful, as if everything wasn't falling to shit in the midst of all kinds of disasters.

It was the middle of the night and, no matter how hard he tried, Daveed couldn't sleep. Even after having more or less quit a few years back, he could tell there was only one thing that was going to calm his nerves. So, creeping out of bed cautiously, he'd reached into his bedside drawer and grabbed the little packet he kept hidden beneath his socks. Maybe it was just the recent times taking a toll on him, quarantine beginning to exhaust him, but Daveed had been feeling more stressed out than ever.

He sighed, one hand rubbing at the sleep in his eye and the other trying to light up his cigarette. Then, he noticed the blue plastic and a whispered “Fuck.” escaped from him. If he'd considered heading back indoors to find his functioning lighter instead of the empty one, it didn't matter because the cigarette and it's packet were plucked away from him by smaller hands.

“You shouldn't be smoking, D.”

“I know, I know, it's bad for my health. Just, a little stressed.” He welcomed the way she wrapped her arms around his waist, molding herself into his side as he wrapped his own arm around her shoulder. “Better now that you're here.”

“Hmm.” She hummed sleepily, squeezing her arms around him some more. “You're so warm. Like, a human hot-water bottle.”

“Just say I'm hot, I already know you're thinking it.” His lips rested on her forehead and the scent of coconut consumed him.

“Why did I agree to marry a man with an ego the size of the Statue Of Liberty?”

“Because that man's love for you is the size of Mount Everest.” He soothingly rubbed her back, feeling himself finally wanting to fall asleep. “Plus, he has really good hair.”

When he fell asleep that night, it was in the same way he'd fallen asleep for the past few years, and how he wanted to fall asleep every night that remained in his time alive: with her between his arms. He'd gone from being as useless, soulless as an empty lighter without her by his side to now, where he never had to worry about not being able to spark up again. He had Y/N and he wouldn't let anything change that. Not distance, time, health, anything.

#daveed diggs #daveed diggs x reader #daveed diggs drabble #daveed diggs fanfiction #daveed diggs oneshot #daveed diggs imagine #daveed diggs scenario #daveed diggs fluff #daveed diggs hamilton #daveed diggs clipping.#valwrite #daveed diggs x y/n #daveed x reader

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massivedrickhead · 5 years ago

Note

For the prompt thing and with hope you will feel better - Beca is dyslexic and is having trouble at the rehearsals, she won't say what is wrong even though girls keep asking or sth like that, then Chloe confronting her about it and a lot of fluff?

Hi, thank you for sending this prompt. I think this might be the third time I’ve received this prompt, so I’m assuming they’re all from you? I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get to it. I’ll be honest, the reason I haven’t done this prompt yet is because I don’t know too much about dyslexia, and I didn’t want to make anything that was insensitive or inaccurate. I hope I’ve been able to do this with sensitivity.

If I haven’t please tell me and I’ll take it down.

Anyway, thank you for the prompt. Enjoy.

This was a mistake, Beca thought, looking down at the sheet of paper Aubrey had just handed her.

Her leg was vibrating and she got that familiar drop in her stomach as she tried to focus on the words on the page in front of her.

“Please make sure this gets filled out and handed back to me by the end of rehearsal,” Aubrey said.

Beca cast her eyes around the room to see the other girls all writing, and her eyes turned back to her own paper.

She tried to make herself focus, tried to make herself read each word so she could complete this form, but the words began swimming together as they so often did, and Beca felt herself getting frustrated. She felt the heat of embarrassment on the back of her neck, felt it spread to her face.

Focus, she told herself.

But by the time her eyes had travelled to the bottom of the page, she realised she hadn’t taken in a word of it.

“Okay, break’s over!” Aubrey called, and Beca shoved the paper in to her bag. She could complete it tonight and bring it in on their next rehearsal.

The rehearsal went smoothly after that. Beca was grateful she already knew the words to the song they were signing, so she didn’t have to rely on the print-out Chloe had handed her.

“I’ll see you ladies tomorrow morning for our next rehearsal,” Aubrey said, after finally calling an end.

“Tomorrow?” Beca asked. “I have to work tomorrow.”

Aubrey sighed. “What does it say on the whiteboard Beca?” She gestured to the scribbled green ink which supposedly laid out the Bellas’ plans for victory.

Beca looked, and again felt that twist in her stomach. Her mouth went dry and her throat seemed to close up. She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it quickly.

“Well?” Aubrey snapped.

“It says a lot of stuff,” Beca replied, her temper getting the better of her. “Tell me which bit is supposed to be important.”

She heard a slow intake of breath coming from the other girls around her.

“You’re a braver woman than I am,” Cynthia Rose muttered.

“We rehearse every day,” Aubrey said, jabbing her finger against the board.

“Okay,” Beca said. “I’m just saying, I have work tomorrow, could we rehearse after?”

“Sure,” Chloe said, preventing what she knew would be tirade of abuse from Aubrey. “What time do you finish?”

“12 pm,” Beca said.

“Perfect,” Chloe replied, grinning. “We’ll start rehearsals at one, if that’s okay with everyone else?”

Everyone else agreed, and they all began to file out of the auditorium.

“Beca,” Aubrey called, looking down at a stack of papers in her hand. “You didn’t give me your sheet.”

“Oh,” Beca said, wondering once again why she was putting herself through this. “I didn’t finish filling it out. I can bring it tomorrow.”

Aubrey raised her eyebrows. “I said I needed it today.”

“It’s fine, Beca,” Chloe said, cutting Aubrey off again. “Just bring it tomorrow.”

Beca shot Chloe a grateful smile, and headed out of the door.

Back in her dorm room, Beca pulled out the sheet of paper Aubrey had wanted her to fill out. She pulled a notebook out of her bag, and slipped the paper behind the sheet of transparent yellow plastic that was clipped into her notebook.

Slowly, the words began to make sense to her, and she filled out the sheet as best she could.

She filled out her name, date of birth, email address and phone number. She listed her allergies, dietary requirements, and gave her clothing sizes so they could order a Bellas uniform for her.

At the end there was a box asking if there was anything else the co-captains needed to be aware of. If there was any medical conditions or disabilities or even learning difficulties that would impact Beca’s ability to rehearse or perform, and if there were any special requirements that they could put in place to help her.

Beca had a suspicion this question had been put in by Chloe.

She tapped her pen against the page, chewing her bottom lip as she thought.

Then she folded the paper in half, and slipped it back into her bag, deciding they didn’t need to know.

After, she spent some time listening to a lecture she’d recorded that morning. She opened up a word document, and made notes of time codes of when her professor talked about something she’d need later, so she’d be able to find it when studying.

By the time she was finished, her eyes were burning and her head was aching. She shut the screen of her laptop, lay back in bed, and found her thoughts landing on Chloe. She couldn’t help but smile.

The redhead had protected her against Aubrey’s wrath in rehearsal. She had looked out for her at the hood night party, making sure she was okay and that she wasn’t getting bothered by Trebles or frat boys.

She knew if there was anyone she could trust with her secret, it would be Chloe.

Without meaning to, her mind wandered to that night in the shower, and she felt her cheeks burn.

She put on some music, and tried to forget about how good Chloe had looked. How good she had sounded.

When that didn’t work, she sat back at her desk, and pulled up her mixing software.

This she knew how to do.

Where words made her feel frustrated and embarrassed, music made her feel free. She understood the waveforms of a sound better than the she would ever understand a written word.

As the two tracks began to blend together, she forgot about everything else.

Everything… except Chloe.

———

“Have you got your form?” Aubrey asked as Beca filed into rehearsal the next afternoon.

Beca pulled the folded sheet from her bag and handed it over.

“Thank you,” Aubrey said, her eyes scanning the page to make sure she hadn’t missed a question. “You were born in 1999?”

“’96,” Beca said.

“Ah ha,” Aubrey said, correcting the form with her pen. “And you’re allergic to ‘dees’?”

A rush of heat travelled up Beca’s back, across her neck and made its way to her face in seconds.

“Bees,” she muttered.

She waited for Aubrey’s snarky comment that she knew must be coming. Waited for that cruel laughter from the other girls that she had heard so often at school.

No laughter came however, and after correcting the spelling error on her form, Aubrey dropped it onto the pile with the other girls’.

Feeling rattled and on edge, Beca went the rest of rehearsal without drawing attention to herself.

She didn’t bite back at Aubrey when she made comments about Beca’s dance ability, or her ‘ear monstrosities’, and she didn’t complain about the outdated song or the lame choreography. When Fat Amy showed her a string of messages on her phone from some guy she was seeing, Beca just smiled and nodded rather than try and struggle through reading them, and she kept just as quiet when Jessica and Ashley started a heated debate about which Hogwarts house was the best.

“You’re quiet today Bec,” Cynthia Rose said as they started packing up to leave. “Everything good?”

“Yeah,” Beca said, surprised she had noticed. “It’s just, you know, a lot. Not used to being around this many people with such strong Harry Potter opinions.”

Cynthia Rose smiled, and nudged her. “Us Slytherins gotta stick together, right?”

“Aren’t they the bad guys?”

Cynthia Rose laughed again and shook her head. “Only if you listen to JKR, and she doesn’t know shit.”

Beca smiled liked she’d understood, and Cynthia Rose left with a wave. She hadn’t read Harry Potter as a child, and had had no desire to read it as a teenager, or watch any of the movies.

She was aware she was missing a world wide phenomenon, but her disdain for popular culture had made it easy for her to pretend that she hadn’t read these books out of choice, and not out of a deep seated fear that she wouldn’t be able to.

It was how she avoided Twilight discussions in high school, when her friends had bombarded her with questions about Edward Vs Jacob. She’d simply replied that it was all lame, and they’d stopped asking for her opinions.

Beca hadn’t realised she’d gotten lost in her own head again, and was simply staring into space, half-way through packing up to leave.

“Earth to Beca?” Chloe said, waving a hand in front of her.

“Sorry,” Beca said, shaking her head slightly.

“Did you go somewhere nice?” Chloe asked. Beca tilted her head in confusion. Chloe tapped her on the forehead. “When you disappeared up there.”

“Oh,” Beca said, laughing. “There’s nothing nice up there, trust me.” She slung her bag over her shoulder.

“You did good today,” Chloe said, walking with Beca as they left the auditorium,

“You’re a very sweet liar,” Beca scoffed.

“You did! I know Aubrey gave you a hard time, but she’s just really obsessive. She wants us to be perfect. She wants to redeem herself,” Chloe said.

“I guess I’d want that too,” Beca replied, remembering the video she’d watched of Aubrey’s last Bellas performance.

“What are you up to right now?” Chloe asked as they walked.

“Nothing,” Beca said.

“You wanna grab dinner?”

“Sure,” Beca replied, trying to stop her grin from overtaking her face.

They arrived at a diner, and the waitress who seated them handed Beca a menu.

She gave it a cursory glance, recognised they sold burgers, and put the menu down.

Chloe studied it for a little longer, her bottom lip caught in her teeth as she read down the list. She glanced up at Beca. “Do I get cheese fries or sweet potato fries?”

“Is that even a question?”

“You’re right,” Chloe said, looking back down. “Cheese fries. Always cheese fries.”

Beca laughed.

“What are we having then?” The waitress asked, holding out a notepad.

“BLT with a side order of cheese fries, please,” Chloe said, still looking down at her menu. “Oh, and a strawberry milkshake.”

“Can I get a burger with fries and a coke please?” Beca asked.

“What kind of burger?”

“Sorry?”

“We have like five different kinds,” the waitress said, pointing to the burger section on the menu.

“Right,” Beca said, a nervous laugh escaping her as she looked at the menu, trying to make sense of the words that were now jumbling together.

“Can you give us another minute to decide?” Chloe asked, when enough time had elapsed for the waitress to begin to look impatient.

Beca’s cheeks were burning when she felt Chloe tap her foot with her own.

“You want me to tell you what kind they have?” Chloe asked.

“I can read them,” Beca said, her voice coming out harsher than she’d intended. “I’m not stupid.”

“I know that,” Chloe said. “I’m sorry, I was just trying to help.”

Beca sighed. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap.” She rubbed her hand against her forehead.

“I didn’t mean to imply you were stupid, or that you couldn’t read,” Chloe said. “I’m sorry if I’m out of line here, but… You’re dyslexic, right?”

Beca’s head shot up. “How did you…”

“My brother is, and my dad,” Chloe said. “You mixed up your d’s and b’s and your 9’s and 6’s on your information sheet. You looked like you were struggling to fill it in during rehearsal, which is why I’m guessing you took it home? And when Aubrey asked you to read something from the whiteboard, you got kinda defensive.”

Beca ran a hand through her hair. “You’re pretty observant,” she said.

“You can call it like it is, I’m a bit of a creep,” Chloe said, smiling when she heard Beca laugh. “You don’t need to be embarrassed about it, it’s pretty common.”

“That didn’t stop me from getting teased in school when I couldn’t read aloud or when I failed every spelling test. The fact that it’s common didn’t stop my dad from calling me stupid every chance he got, or stop my teachers saying I needed to try harder or -” she swallowed, trying not to cry, “or saying I was slow.”

“They shouldn’t have said that,” Chloe said, her voice soft. “None of them should have said any of that.” She took Beca’s hand, and then saw the waitress making her way over. “What kind of burger do you want?”

“Cheese and bacon?”

“BBQ sauce?”

“No,” Beca said, pulling a face.

“She’ll have the classic with bacon, thanks,” Chloe said, before the waitress could ask.

“With fries?”

“Yeah,” Beca said. “Thank you,” she added, once the waitress had left.

“You shouldn’t feel ashamed about needing help, Beca. People need help with all kinds of things, nobody is born perfect,” Chloe said.

“Easy for you to say,” Beca said. “Look at you.”

Chloe cocked her head. “I had to wear headgear at school, because my teeth were overcrowded and my jaw was misaligned. I had to wear it for three years, can you imagine how often I got picked on for that? My lab partner Joe had scoliosis as a kid, so he had to wear a back brace. My sister had to wear a patch to correct a lazy eye. My brother, my dad, my uncle, my bio professor, all have dyslexia. Aubrey’s brother has ADHD. My mom had bi-polar,” Chloe said, her voice taking on a kind of fierceness as she listed these people off. “Everyone needs help with something, and receiving it isn’t a sign of weakness. It isn’t something you should feel embarrassed about.”

Beca looked uncomfortable. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I know dyslexia is common. I know I shouldn’t feel embarrassed about it, but I do. I can just remember being a kid and having to stand in front of a class, trying to read out loud. The other kids would giggle and sometimes the teacher would too. They’d shove books at me, or write mean stuff on notes, and tell me to read them.” Beca wiped away a stray tear. “And my dad…” She shook her head. “Well… the less said about him the better.”

Chloe squeezed her hands again. “You don’t have to make life harder for yourself by refusing to let people help you. I’m sorry that you had to go through all that growing up, but the Bellas aren’t going to be like that. Aubrey will understand if you need lyrics sheets to be printed on different paper or with a different font. She’ll get it if you’d rather we told you information instead of writing it down for you to read it.” Beca scoffed again. “Beca, she knows. The second she saw your d’s and b’s mixed up, she understood. She can be a bit intense, but she isn’t a cruel person. Why do you think we put that question on the form?”

“I figured you put it there,” Beca mumbled.

Chloe shook her head. “It was her idea. I agreed, obviously, but she thought of it. Look, I won’t tell anyone about this. I won’t even confirm Aubrey’s suspicions. But I promise, only good things will come of you being open with us. Won’t it be easier to not have to hide this?”

“Yeah,” Beca said, still looking uncomfortable. “That’ll be good. But… I”m just not good at sharing. I’m not good at being open and vulnerable.”

“What if I told them?”

Beca met her eyes and nodded, ever so slightly, and the waitress brought over their food.

“Okay,” Chloe said. “I’ll take care of it. We don’t have to talk about this heavy stuff anymore.”

“Thank you,” Beca said, feeling like a weight had been lifted. “Oh, by the way, when I called you perfect earlier? I was trying to flirt with you.”

Chloe grinned. “I know you were.”

#bechloe #bechloe drabble #bechloe prompt #drabble #bechloe fanfiction #bechloe fanfic #fafiction #fanfic #pitch perfect #pitch perfect fanfic #pitch perfect fanfiction #beca #chloe #beca x chloe #beca mitchell #Chloe beale #bechloe friendship #bechloe fluff #fluff

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oh-so-scenarios · 5 years ago

Text

Loose Ends | two

⇢ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴀ ʟᴀsᴛɪɴɢ ɪᴍᴘʀᴇssɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ...ᴛᴏᴏ ʙᴀᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ sᴛɪᴄᴋ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴛᴏ sᴇᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀᴍᴀɢᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀᴜsᴇᴅ.

⇢ᴄᴇᴏ! ᴋɪᴍ ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ x ᴀᴅᴍɪɴ ᴀssɪsᴛᴀɴᴛ! ғᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴇx-ғɪᴀɴᴄᴇs!ᴀᴜ, ᴀɴɢsᴛ, ᴇɴᴇᴍɪᴇsᴛᴏʟᴏᴠᴇʀs

**A/N: There are errors! Please ignore them! This chapter is a little awkward(imo), but it’s just laying down the foundation but it will pick up. (Word Count: 4.9K)

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《 PAST 》

Y/N:

“So we’re partners?” I said, sitting down at the empty desk. I glanced over at the quiet boy sitting beside me. His head was down and he focused his attention on the black sheet of paper in front of him.

Maybe he was shy? I couldn’t be sure, but what I did know was that I wasn’t planning on slacking off.

They say your freshman year of high school will determine the rest of your years and I will not get off to a bad start. I was already a push-over in middle school, letting myself get tricked into doing all the work. But I am entering high school with a new confidence. I will keep my head high and speak up when I feel wronged.

“Your name is Namjoon right?” I called softly. I leaned over, trying to catch his eye. I knew he could hear me, seeing him side eye me momentarily. He finally lifts up his head and looks my way, showing a shy smile.

As I finally got a good look at him, I couldn’t help but smile. He has high cheekbones, kind eyes that were behind thick circular glasses and his hair is jet black, brush forward and covering his forehead. There are a few pimples on his face, but he’s a cute guy.

“Hi.” He says quietly, his ahead falling back to his desk. He’s shy. I can’t help but giggle, noticing his eyes widen at me. My giggles stop short, my eyes also widening.

“I’m not laughing at you or anything!” I rush out, “I just think you’re...cute.” My giggles start up again, a blush growing throughout his face.

“I’m Y/n.” I stretch my hand out and he shakes it briefly. He opens his mouth to speak but is interrupted by the teacher.

“Alright! I gave you some time to get familiar with your partner! Don’t worry you’ll have time to talk some more! They will be your writing partner for the rest of the school year!” The teacher gives everyone a big smile before turning back to the board.

I settle into my seat, leaning back into the chair and smiling. I can’t help but glance over at the shy boy was didn’t speak much.

《 PRESENT 》

This is cruel. This is unforgiving and devilish. Why should I have to see Kim Namjoon again, let alone work for him?

My gut was telling me to turn down this job, and it wasn’t wrong. I shouldn’t be here. It should have been someone else. Fate couldn’t be this cruel. It just couldn’t. I thought I could have gone another 10 years before I had to lay my eyes on that man again.

I lean my head against the cold metal wall of the elevator. I watched the elevator doors close, leaving me to stare at my own reflection. It’s now day 2. Only 238 more days till this contract is over. I can’t help but chuckle at how ridiculous this situation is.

I finally reach for and press the button for the 23rd floor, the elevator pings and shifts as it went upwards.

I didn’t let my emotional breakdown yesterday stop me. I went to the bathroom, cleaned myself up and walked back into the office, doing the work that was expected of me. I am grateful that I didn’t have to see Mr. Kim again till he was leaving his office for the day. He didn’t spare a look my way.

Maybe he doesn’t recognize me? How much can a person change in 3 years? Or he counts our time together as a different phase of life? He probably doesn’t see the need to mention the elephant in the room. Rather let sit there, and bother both of us. He thinks it bothers me more and if he does, he’s right.

Today I wore a long sleeved mustard yellow blouse that was tucked in into my black and white houndstooth pattern pencil skirt. It’s not a look I usually go for, but I wanted anything to distract from the dread that was clear on my face. The outfit was cute and the colors worked wonderfully, so I praise myself for that.

I looked down at my peach-nude heels and thanked god that it matched. I was practically a zombie as I walked out the house today. I couldn’t remember what shoes I put on. My hair was down and I kept my make-up natural.

My purse hung on my shoulder, only carrying my schedule book for Mr. Kim, my phone, keys and wallet. The elevator dinged once more, and the doors slid open to show the pearl white walls. It’s day two. Another fresh start. The past doesn’t matter here. Just work performance.

I stepped through the doors and started down the hallway. As I hear the clicking of my heels, my nervousness vanishes. I am simply an assistant. As long as Mr. Kim plays it cool, so should I. He doesn’t owe me anything.

“Good morning.” I called as I walked in. My words stopped short as I realized that Sana wasn’t there. I look at the watch on my wrist. It’s twenty to eight. I guess I am a bit early, but that’s better than late. Most employees don’t start coming in till about 8:30. Mr. Kim arrives somewhere between 8 am and 8:30am.

I grab my schedule book and set my bag under the desk. I wasn’t too out of it yesterday to forget to write my to-do list. I turn on the computer and my desk and look through my email to find the needed documents. I want to have them done before anyone else can get in my way.

I sent the documents to the printer and soon found myself moving back and forth in the office. I walk through the double doors that lead to the cubicles of the employees and go to the copy room. I’m making copies and finding folders to pack them into. It didn’t feel strange with it being just me in the office.

It feels better to work in silence, with less people around me. After printing, copying and organizing all the documents, I made my way towards the empty conference room and spread the folders out.

Mr. Kim has a meeting with some employees about the books that were to be published in the next 3 months. That meeting is followed by another meeting on authors to sign with. I printed and copied the documents for the second meeting. I took those folders back with me. They were stacked in my arms, and blocked my view.

I managed to waltz into the lobby area and to my desk just before they started slipping out of my hands. I grabbed the empty white box that once held my belongings and dropped the folders in there.

I stood up straight, smoothing my skirt and reaching for my schedule book on what to do next.

I took a seat and started sending out emails. It wasn’t long before I heard footsteps approaching, Heels clicked in a speedy matter, the jiggling of keys mimicking the quick movement. Sana comes around the corners in sand colored dress pants and an ivory white blouse. Her keys are in her hands and her bag is clutched in the other hand.

“Oh you’re here!” She wails, through her hands up as if saying thank you to a higher power.

“I forgot I’m not the only secretary anymore.” She mutters as she walks towards the desk. I resume typing up the emails, giving Sana a pointed look as she plopped into her seat.

“Sana, get in the habit of coming in early. I was able to do the needed work for the morning on my own, but it won’t always be like that.”

She nods, still catching her breath, “Or course! I don’t want to slack off! I want to learn from you.” She lazily tosses her bag on the floor and switches her computer on. Her acrylic nails tap against the desk as she hums a tune to herself.

“Let me help prepare the meeting docu--”

“Done.” I deadpan. She narrows her eyes at me and a small smile pulls at the corners of her lips.

“Seriously?” She was in disbelief.

“Yes,” I answered, sparing a glance.

“And the deadline emails?” She questioned, leaning over to sneak a glance at my computer screen.

“That’s what I am doing now.”

“Wow, Y/n! You’re killing it!”

I try to keep from rolling my eyes, “The sooner you do things, the smoother they run. Once Mr. Park arrives, I’m going to get the financial report of the previous quarters and make copies for the meeting with Jung Hoseok of Jung Funding.”

“That meeting isn’t till 3.” Sana points out like I’d forgotten.

“Do we have to wait till 2 pm to get started on that?” I raise my eyebrows at her as she shakes her head no.

“Exactly.” I answer back.

“What if Mr. Kim changes something at the last minute?” She leans back in her seat, a grimace appearing on her lips while she looks off to the side. She must have dealt with something like that previously.

I sigh, “Then we just go with it. It happens, there is nothing that can be done about it.”

I press send on the last email, check the time on the computer. It’s 8:20 am. Mr. Kim should be on his way in--

“Get started on the documents for the first meeting. It’s been moved up 30 minutes.” His voice cut through the lobby like a knife. The light weight atmosphere created by small talk was stepped on by his demanding presence.

“They have been completed sir.” I stood up from my seat as he walked in, walking like he was taking a stroll in the park.

His steps stop, and he puts both hands into the pocket of his pants. His outfit today was missing the coat. He wore a white dress shirt with a dark grey vest and pants that matched. He kept his head down, giving us a view of his profile.

I try to ignore the pounding in my ears as I stare at him, waiting to hear what he says. I work to keep my breathing under control since it felt like my heart slamming itself against my rib cage.

“You’ve done that already?”

“Yes sir--”

“And the paperwork for the potential authors meeting?”

“That is done as well.” I answered back, keeping my tone neutral while giving a friendly smile. I hope it didn’t look as stiff as it felt.

He doesn’t say anything else and trods into his office.

“He was totally looking for something to be angry about.” Sana says in an annoyed tone.

I don’t reply but sit back down in my seat, sorting through emails. I can’t be sure how much time goes by before I hear footsteps coming down the hallway. This time it’s accompanied by chatter and laughter. The sounds get louder and a big group of employees turn the corner.

Did they all wait to come up at the same time? There were about 9 of them. They were chatting among themselves but it seems there was on person who was the center of all that talk. A man I haven’t seen before.

“Mr. Park?” I called out. It was a guess, but I wasn’t left feeling stupid as the man stops mid laugh, He looks around then meets my questioning expression. The two women that stood around didn’t hide their glares. I ignored them, looking at my computer screen for a moment before standing up from my seat.

“Good morning Mr. Park, I am--”

“Y/n L/n.” He cuts me off, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. Wow. What a good looking man. He must be a charmer, and with how the women of the office flock around him...he’s trouble. His hair was jet black and parted to the side and slicked back. He wore a sharp black suit with a white dress shirt underneath.

He carried a suitcase that he handed to one of the women that were clinging to him. The woman gladly takes it.

“You’re the new administrative assistant right? I’ve heard a lot.” He says while flirtatious light comes to his eyes. I don’t miss the way his eyes move along my face and body. His attention is brought back up to my eyes and he smiles innocently like he wasn’t just checking me out.

“I need the financial reports for the last eight quarters. If you could please gather that up and email it to me.” I sat back down to grab a sticky note, jotting down my email and holding it out.

He takes slow steps towards the desk, and since my patience is short this morning, I simply stick the note to the desk surface.

When he takes the note from the desk, I can feel his eyes on me. I look up from the computer screen to see the smile on his lips widen.

“I am Park Jimin, but you can call me Jimin.”

I exhale, taking my hands off the keyboard and leaning back in my seat, “Mr. Park, I need those reports quickly.”

“Don’t let his smile fool you, Mr. Park is not a man to get wrapped up in.” Sana mutters from beside me. I noticed the women that were glaring at me earlier entering into the employees area, through me another stank look before letting the doors close behind them. More employees were slowly making their way in for work, not of them batting an eye at Mr. Park who was leaning against the desk.

“It takes a lot more to fool me than a smile.” I said to Sana.

“You heard her Mr. Park, you’d be wasting your time.” Sana jeers. Mr. Park doesn’t acknowledge her words at all, only slowly stepping away from the desk then turning around to walk into the employees area.

“Looks like Mr. Park has set his eyes on you.” Sana says, still looking through some paperwork.

“That doesn’t feel like a good thing.” I sneer.

She chuckles, “It’s not.”

The next hour goes by smoothly. Not instructions or emails from Mr. Kim and Mr. Park sent the reports over. I am in the process of printing and copying them when I hear a booming voice.

I step out of the copy room just in time to see other employees shying away from the voice. I can’t help but sigh as I realize it’s probably Mr. Kim. Ugh. He’s found something to be angry about and it isn’t even noon.

“Ms. L/n!” A voice roars. I roll my eyes knowing what’s coming. I’ve been yelled at many times, so there is nothing Mr. Kim could do to faze me.

“Yes?” I call out delightedly. I keep my voice light as I round the corner to see him stalking down the aisle.

The angry look on his face with the hands on his hips tells me all I need to know. His ears are turning red, as they usually do when he’s angry, and his brows are furrowed. The creases in his forehead as he glares at me, ages him a bit.

“Why am I getting phone calls from angry authors?” He yells. Everyone around me flinches as he shouts. I can only stare up at him with a blank facial expression, not moving an inch as he yells at me.

He steps closer, a familiar cologne whisking off of him. Not overbearing, but present enough that you want to lean in to smell more.

“I am not sure sir. I do not have a complete understanding of the situation.” I answered calmly. Employees around us were pretending to work, but it was clear that they were listening in. I notice Mr. Park watching from a distance, his facial expression unreadable.

“The deadlines you emailed were incorrect! These dates are impractical! 2 weeks? Come on Ms. L/n! Use your head! I thought you were supposed to be smart.” He hisses. I can say, I have never seen Namjoon like this. The Namjoon I knew would never raise his voice like this, at least not in front of other people.

I cleared my throat and answered back confidently, “I will send the deadlines to you for correcting sir.”

I watched his face contort in confusion, “Excuse me? To me?”

“Yes sir.”

“Why the hell would you do that?”

“Well, those are the deadlines you wrote up for me sir. I was not aware that the dates were incorrect, for it was only my first day. I am so sorry for the stress that was caused to your authors. I will email each other apologizing for the mix up.”

“You have some nerve. Ms. L/n, are saying this is my fault?” His voice is quieter this time, but the menacing tone didn’t flatter.

I smile sweetly, “Of course not sir! I will simply issue apologies to the authorities and make sure the correct deadlines are given to them.”

“Don’t even email them. Call them personally.” He adds.

“Of course, sir.” I nod. The whole office I silent as I keep the appearance of my small smile, holding the folders close to my chest as he glares at me in silence. Though it isn't showing in my face, it felt like my heart could explode in that moment.

Who is this man? So familiar but so foreign.

“When you’re done with your paperwork, come to my office.” It felt like he was towering over me, and for once I can feel the difference in levels. This is not Kim Namjoon, the dorky boy I knew in 9th grade English. This is Mr. Kim, wealthy CEO of KM-Moonchild Publishing.

“Of course sir.” I reply before he turns around and exits the way he came in. I simply shrug and turn around to go back into the copy room when someone calls out to me.

“You really talked back to er. Kim like that?” It was a female voice. I groaned, spinning around to face the voice. It was a woman with dark red hair and a black and white jumpsuit. She was pretty. Her figure was slim with an hourglass shape. Her hair was in gracious waves that effortlessly rested on her shoulders and down to the middle of her. I'm certain that she’s one of the girls that were gossiping about me yesterday.

I stared at her, and I’m sure my gaze came off as bored, because I was. I don't care what this lady has to say. It’s nothing of use.

“I was just having a conversation with Mr. Kim. A conversation requires two people to speak.”

She crosses her arms over her chest, “You have no respect! It’s one thing to think you’re better than us, but can your ego relax. Mr. Kim isn’t someone to--”

“I am not here to be lectured. I have work to do. I haven’t been fired yet,when I am I will make sure to come and cry that you were right so that your ego can get the boost it needs.” I try not to laugh at the expression on her face but a slight chuckle leaves my lips as I turn into the copy room.

I hum to myself as the copy machine does it’s job, being and humming as it does so. I’m tapping my fingers against the buzzing machine when I sense a presence behind me.

“Yes?” I called out, looking over to spot Mr. Park leaning against the doorway with a smug smile.

I bit my tongue to keep back the groan that wanted to leave my lips. Not this guy again. I already feel the need to have HR on speed dial.

“Are you here to bother me?” I say out, and turn my back to him again. It’s quiet for a while before I heard a soft sigh.

“I’m not here to start any trouble, I just think it’s very cool the way you handled things back there.” His tone was different from when we spoke earlier.

“I always handle things. Mr. Kim is no different from the other people I have worked for. I have been yelled at many times.” I grab the newly printed papers and turn to face Mr. Park just so I could place the papers on the table. I started my second batch of copying before he spoke again.

“You’re not worried about being fired?”

I shrug, pushing another button on the machine, “I’ve already been paid 50% of my contract payment, so I could care less. Mr. Kim only has me for eight months.”

“Eight months huh? That’s too bad.” He mutters to himself.

~!~

“He’s so gonna fire you.” Sana whispers to me. I don’t look away from my computer, typing up the emails for the new deadlines that were sent to me by Mr. Kim. He must have realized he was in the wrong, seeing how the corrected deadlines were sent to me before I could return to my desk from the copy room. But when I returned to the desk, Mr. Kim was in his first meeting of the day. So here I sat with Sana who had heard about what happened as one of the women were giggling about it on their way out the office.

“Let’s hope he does.” I mumble. Sana hears me, looking my way and pouting.

“Do you not like it here?”

“It doesn’t matter if I hate it here or not, it’s my work.” I didn’t think much of it when Sana didn’t say anymore. I was finishing up the email with the new deadlines when some heavy footsteps came from the employee area, and the double doors opened to reveal Mr, Kim who was being trailed by some employees.

I could see them out of the corner of my eyes. I focused on the computer screen once more, pretending I didn’t notice the glance my way from Mr. Kim. The two men stand in the middle of the lobby speaking about the meeting that just ended.

I spend the last deadline email and turn to another page in my scheduling book to begin the apology phone calls. That doesn’t go far because Sana nudges me with her arm. When I look at her, she’s looking forward. I follow her gaze to see Mr. Kim practically glaring at me.

“Ms. L/n, my office please.” He says. His voice was too neutral for the scowled that was burned onto his face. I didn’t get the chance to respond before he spun around and zoomed into his office.

I stood up, smoothing my skirt and grabbing my scheduling book. I ignored Sana’s puppy dog's eyes, seeing as she was scared for me.

I strolled to the heavy wooden doors, knocked and opened it to see him standing behind his desk.He hands were behind his back and he was zoned out. His attention was elsewhere and his mind was far off somewhere else.

I closed the door behind me and fought back the smile curling at the corner of my lips. The lost look on his face reminds me of Namjoon from high school. The smart boy who would daydream in class.

“Mr. Kim?” I call out. His neck snaps up and his eyes grow hard and dark. The gentle expression on his face was no more.

I approached his desk, holding the schedule book close to my chest.

“You wanted to speak to me?” I say, feeling nervousness bubbling up in me. Something about the atmosphere has shifted. By the look in his eyes, I know what he's going to do.

“Why are you here?” He asks in an icy tone. I raise an eyebrow at him, pretending to be clueless.

“What do you mean Mr. Kim? If this is about the deadline--”

“Y/n, cut the shit.” He deadpans. I press my lips into a tight line, gripping the schedule book tighter and clear my throat.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Did you come here to torture me?” He says quickly, ignoring my attempt at feigning ignorance. My face scrunches up in offense. I took a step back before shaking my head in disbelief.

What the fuck? He thinks I came here on purpose?

“I came here to work.” I hiss, “I didn’t know a damn thing about this job when I got the offer. You think’d I take the job I knew I would see you?”

He runs his fingers through his hair and I watch him intently, waiting for him to speak again. When he doesn't voice my thoughts.

“I came here to work. Not to torture you, not to bug you. I couldn’t care less about you and what you’re doing. Separate work from personal and keep it moving.”

“Of course that’s easy for someone as heartless as yourself.” He jeers, laughing humorless. My breath catches in my throat and I take a second to collect myself. That one stung a little bit.

“Insulting me isn’t going to change anything.” I kept my voice level, hoping that the trembles that were starting to climb up my body wouldn’t show in my voice.

His eyes narrow at me, one corner of his lips turning up in a sinister smile. The loathing touch to his sharp eyes made me feel small in that moment.

“You’re standing here talking to me like a fucking robot. Does seeing me not invoke any sort of emotion?”

“I am just here to work, Mr. Kim.” I repeat for the third time, mustering a strained smile. I try not to think back to the crying fit I had the day before. The shock of seeing Namjoon truly took everything out of me, but it doesn’t matter. Things couldn’t go back to normal even if we wanted it to. Too much damage has been done.

“If that’s all sir, I’ll be taking my leave. I have authors to call and apologize to.” My legs feel shaky when I take the first step to turn around, and I stumble a bit. I catch myself, and just pray that Namjoon chucks it up to losing the balance of my heels.

“How is your sister doing?” He rushes out, like he wanted to keep me from leaving the room. I put my hand on my doorknob debating what to reply.

“I’m not going to pretend to care about the current state of your life, so don’t pretend to care about mine.”

“I am not--” I open the door and step out quickly, letting the door close on it’s own. My quick trot to the desk made Sana gaze at me with sad eyes.

“That was quick. It was probably a rough lecture wasn’t it?”

I plop down in my seat, “Nothing I can’t handle.” I lied.

I’m lying. I can’t handle this.

∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ❣

Things are a bit awkward, in terms of the writing but it’ll get there. More info will be revealed later.

Let me know what you thought of this chapter! How do you feel about this story?

#kim namjoon #bts #bts rm #bts namjoon #bts kim namjoon #bts angst #bts fan fic #bts ff #bts reactions #bts scenarios #kim namjoon angst #namjoon angst #kim namjoon x reader #namjoon x reader

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nickhembery · 5 years ago

Text

trigger warning: shit gets dark

I've been thinking about writing this for a while. It's going to be a long one, because it's going to tell a story of a long period in my life. It's going to get into a lot of banality of office work, and its going to go to some dark places, because it's also the story of depression. My depression. My sink into some pretty dark thoughts and the path out of them.

The story starts in 2007. I was a year out of university with a degree barely worth the paper it's printed on, so was struggling to find a job. A task made a lot harder because I still didn't have any idea what I wanted to do for a career. So I was going from short temp job to short temp job, feeling kind of down. When one day I get a text from an agency that had given me a few jobs. "Want to be working Monday?" I think it said. I replied in the affirmative. I was given an address and told to be there at 8.30am on Monday. I said I would be there.

The company I had just agreed to work at was at the time a freshly independent arm of Zurich bank. It operated in a very niche area of financial services. When you want to get a mortgage, insurance, or some other financial thing, you can go to a bank. Or you could pay someone else to go to the banks and find the best deal for you. These people are called financial advisers, they go and talk to random people and convince them to act as intermediaries to the bank, and doing this they earn commission. This commission can vary, unless they are part of a large group, not quite a union, of similar advisers that can collectively bargain better commission rates for the advisers. That's what this company was, an intermediary for an intermediary, a company that only dealt with other companies and to the public at large is invisible.

My job at the company was quite simple. When the financial advisers sell things, they earn commission, that commission comes from the bank, goes through the company, and on to the adviser, except when the computer system failed to process it. My task was to look at these system failures, figure out why they failed, get them working again and the money passed on to the adviser. It sounds quite slick when you say it like that, except it was monotonous, easy and boring. There were only actually about six reasons that a payment failed to process automatically, and quite quickly you got good at spotting what the cause was with just a glance at the data. From there, it was simply a case of following the steps and pushing buttons in the right order to get things moving again. After that, you moved onto the next payment in your list of payments to deal with. Because there was always more.

That, in a nutshell, was my job. The digital equivalent of the old-timey footage of the factory worker doing the same thing over and over. I was there to correct a failure in an automatic process, and at any time could be made redundant when they figure out how to stop it happening. But this is where things take a dark turn. I was never made redundant. In all the time I was at the company, no one ever changed the system in an effort to effect the automatic processing. It was easier for the company to employ me, and a lot of other people, to push the buttons in the correct order, than it was to get someone to actually fix the system. That's a heavy thing to carry with you. You're not worth enough to be a saving if you're made redundant. So you sit there, working your tools on the conveyor line.

Let's talk about the tools for a minute. Those didn't change much in my tenure either. The thing the advisers used to send us information about the things they sold changed twice. It started they were using paper. Then a digital system was built over a few years by many, many contractors. But it basically didn't work, so was scrapped and replaced in about two years after launch. There was one particular time when £10,000 had been spent on a button that would stop some errors happening. It didn't work, so we saw no difference. The thing that all our records of payments were stored on was excel spreadsheets. Thousands upon thousands of records per sheet, switched out monthly. We were using it like a database table. Information was constantly being entered and changed, by multiple people at once. So it broke a lot. You'd try to save changes and you'd get an error message. The source file was corrupted, or deleted. When that happened there was a twenty-minute procedure to fix things and get back on track. It happened at least once a month. IT apparently spent a long time trying to solve it. One time they announced they had solved the problem, and while they had, they also caused an even worse problem, so I demanded we be rolled back immediately. We were rolled back after the second instance. The last tool we had was the main database and payments system. Every record on the spreadsheet already existed on the payments system, but there was no way to retrieve records in the filtered form we needed on the fly. So we went between the spreadsheet and the payments system, sorting things out and amending data. The payments system in a word, sucked. It crashed four times a day and you had to reset it on your computer. Once a month it went down for the whole company for about an hour. Imagine you're typing an email, you hit send and you get an error message. You restart your email client and it doesn't want to open. You ask the person next to you to check their email, theirs is broke too. You ask around, no email for anyone. Then someone has to call IT and report that email is down. Then you wait, and no one can do anything without email. Every month, the tools we relied one would break down and we had to wait for them to be fixed. And neither of those was changed.

One more thing to talk about in the structure of the job. Crunch time. You ever have a big deadline, where a lot of work needs to be done in a short space of time so everyone has to put in extra hours? And it's really important so everyone is expected to come in and help out, because you have to hit that target? How often does that happen for you? In this job, there was one every single month. I mentioned the spreadsheets were swapped out monthly. That's because our cycle of work was on a monthly pay run cycle. Everything that came in during the month was processed in the same month. Well, mostly. 99% was the average. And you'd think okay, so you see what you get at the start, figure out how many then work to the speed so you're done at the end, right? Wrong. Stuff keeps coming in throughout the month, and all of it has to be done. This includes the mammoth file that comes in three to five days before the deadline, and is equivalent in size to half of all of what you've done in the month to that point. Three days to process thousands more payments. And this was routine. Every month, the file lands and everyone gets to work on it. The spreadsheet and system crashes frequently happened during these periods. One time the bosses did trial offsetting the mammoth file to the following month so there wouldn't be crunch for us. But the bosses upstairs didn't like it, so it was put back. A crunch period. Every single month. It's worth pointing out that this was my first proper job, so I didn't actually know this was abnormal. So I just got on with it.

So this is all pretty sad. The work is easy to the point of mind-numbing boredom. The tools break frequently. Nothing is being done to make things better. Periods of high stress all the time. What do you do? You try to leave. Except. I was hired as a temp in July 2007. Made permanent in late 2008. Then the financial crises happened. No one was getting out. Every job advertised was crap or worse. It was a while before it was worth job hunting seriously again. And that didn't go well. At one point I talked to a career's adviser because as I put it "the phone doesn't ring", no one was interested in me. I was overqualified for the crap and underqualified for everything else. Trapped. Doing the same crap, over and over, in a monthly cycle, over and over. I had already identified and openly talked about how I disliked the job. I described myself as a professional button pusher. Or, bored office worker by day, insane video gamer by night. Or, everything positive in my life is outside of work.

The positive things. They were there. I had met a group of friends that are still with me today. My family were and still are incredibly supportive of me. I travelled, going to various events and seeing strange sights. And I found the thing I wanted to really do for a career. In 2011 I was a founding member of a writing group in which we all read and critiqued each other's work. And while I could be cutting in my comments, I was honest and very good at it. And I enjoyed it. Pursuing that, I looked into how to do it for a job. It's very tough when you're not ten years younger than I was, doing or done an English degree at a better university than I went to, or just had decent connections in the industry (that I didn't have). So, freelance work. What a mess that is. Various websites offer connecting freelancers to customers, but those are fiercely competitive, to the point that it's a race to the bottom, working virtually for free, if you find work at all. The freelance market is a full-time job to find part-time work. Not fun. Something I started doing was seeking out courses on proofreading in order to boost my profile. And this is when things get very, very dark.

In 2014 I received the results of my third (I think, it might have been second) attempt at one of these courses, and I didn't make the cut. Feeling sad and not having anything else to do that day, I went out to the gym. Driving along a dual carriageway, I noticed that there wasn't a barrier in the grass verge between the opposing lanes. I thought about veering across and causing a head-on collision. What stopped me was the thought "no, that's really rude to the other driver". The thing about low-burning anxiety is that you're constantly afraid of strangers. What if they attack me? What if he tries to mug me? What if that bus jumps the curb and hits me? All of these things are imagined external threats. This thought of veering my car was the first time it would be me causing the damage, so it flagged immediately as something that shouldn't be there. In a bit of a daze I continued to the gym, worked out for a bit then went home. When I arrived I switched my computer on and googled "depression test". I found seven online tests on various sites, and did all of them. The results across the board, were that I was seriously depressed. I sat back, and thought about this for a moment. Then I thought that the suicidal thought incident probably triggers a thing in them for maximum safety. Anyone that thinks of killing themselves is automatically told to seek help. So I did all the tests again, and this time I left out the suicidal thought bit and lied a little for good measure, saying I wasn't as bad as I really felt. The results were the same. Heavy depression. Get help.

I quickly arranged an appointment with a doctor, got a prescription for anti-depressants and various reading material. At the time I was struggling to read for long periods, my attention wasn't holding, so I got a couple of audiobooks on depression and low self-esteem. I figured there was a lot of overlap. I also met with a therapist, and attended a seminar series to talk about my issues. The cause of this sadness was immediately obvious. The job. But, I couldn't quit. When I had met with the career's adviser a few years previous, the same one that I had told "the phone doesn't ring", I had asked about quitting so that I could become 'immediately available' as some ads requested. He advised me against it, stating that those currently in work were 40% more likely to find new work. The logic is there, you're proving that someone wants to hire you, so the new people should too. Though I sometimes wonder on the accuracy of the figure. But what to do when the job gives you depression and you can't quit? I decided to give myself six months to learn about my condition and let the medication kick in, then start job searching with a seriousness hitherto unseen. I have no idea if I just used 'hitherto' correctly. Anyway, learning.

How does depression work, and how do you cope with it? In reading (listening) and talking, I learned about various coping mechanisms, and that somehow I'd done everything right. It was part of how the job was so identifiable as the cause. I didn't do anything other than the job that didn't give me happiness, reward or satisfaction. Like going to the gym. That started because I was feeling pains in my arms and shoulders from lack of exercise, so I joined up to make that go away. Exercising is highly recommended to depressives because of all the endorphins. Another was staying up late. Lying awake in bed is classic bad thoughts time, so I avoided it as much as possible. I would stay up on the computer until the early hours, then I would climb into bed and play a different game, keeping going with that until I was almost passed out from exhaustion. Only then would I switch everything off and go to sleep. It wasn't healthy, but it kept the bad thoughts at bay. Living with other people also helped greatly. They could keep an eye on you, make meals so that you actually ate, and be someone to pretend to be normal for. One time I was alone in the house for a while, and it took me three hours to get out of bed, wash and dress. Wouldn't have got away with that if anyone else had been home and needed to use the toilet. But the most important mechanism by far, was the first one.

Most people when they work listen to music. A radio is the classic. These days it’s youtube or spotify. But I didn't listen to music, because it wasn't enough of a distraction. I could do my job, listen to music and daydream at the same time. And they weren't good daydreams. So I listened to podcasts and audiobooks. Thousands upon thousands of hours, I heard quiz shows, tech news, movie reviews, historic stories, short stories, random rants and books and books and books. I didn't talk to my colleagues much. I would arrive, switch on my PC, plug in my headphones, and be silent for most of the day. I didn't like saying good morning to people, I can't recall why, and I thought it would be horrible if all I said to people was goodbye, so I didn't engage them unless absolutely necessary. Sometime people ask how I could work and listen to spoken word at the same time. I always equated it to driving and listening to the radio. I was looking at shapes (numbers) and hearing words. I kept the two separate in my head and kept going. If I had to write an email I would pause the audio. Needless to say, with all the silence, I wasn't popular. I didn't care. I really didn't want to be there, so I did my best to pretend I wasn't.

Slight tangent, how often does the phone ring at your work? Once a day? Once a week? Several times a day? Well, when I started at the job the phone would ring a lot. Because as well as being the correction mechanism for the automatic system, we were also the second line support for the contact centre. A payment would go wrong, an adviser would call up, the person they reach wouldn't know anything about it, so they would call us. Again and again. And these were important calls, our customers the advisers couldn't just be ignored, no. So there always had to be someone to answer the phone, which meant everyone couldn't be on lunch at the same time, which in turn meant that everyone had a set period when they went to lunch. From twelve till one or one till two. The team was split down the middle. You left on the dot and you were back on the dot. Annoying, but also strangely fortuitous. Because it gave me a set period every day of non work. Where I could leave and partake of another activity. Some people went for walks, or read a book. Me, I wrote. Many thousands of words. Then I edited. Then other stuff, I'll get back to that later. The 'wrong' part about this rigidness was that unlike my job, things changed for the contact centre. What was once six people and no clue was grown to twenty who were well trained and knew their stuff. My phone stopped ringing. They didn't need us anymore, but the rigid lunch times stayed. I wonder why. Anyway, the writing I did in my lunch breaks was a great coping mechanism, gave me a massive sense of accomplishment. "What did you do at work today?" "I wrote 1000 words" In my lunch break.

That was all stuff I was doing by accident when I was diagnosed. After the six month to learn and let the meds kick in, I really got going. It was here that I started my annual goal setting, which has featured heavily in the blog before. "In the coming year I will X, Y and Z". I wrote many drafts of books. I learned to touch type. I learned how to animate. I tried several times to learn how to code. I tried and failed and tried some more. But the big thing was that I put on the list was to get a new job. And here is why it took so long to come off anti-depressants and declare myself well: job searching is hard. You write a CV, you search for jobs in your area, you put in applications for every one you think you could get, and you wait. Every day, searching, writing, applying. I also signed on with almost every job agency in the area. For the most part the experience was the same, you go in, fill out forms, sign up, lots of smiles and handshakes, you leave, you never hear from the agency again. Attempts to contact them are ignored or brushed off. There's a couple specific stories to tell here. One agency approached me and asked me to sign up, I happened to have a day when I could come in as I was also going to the dentist. I told them what time I would drop by and to let me know if that wasn't good. The day came, I drove over, got buzzed through the door, sat in the reception area, and waited. For an hour. I went back outside, got on the intercom again and was buzzed inside again. This time someone turned up and told me politely that she couldn't help me as she oversaw a different area, the person I was there to see was busy, and they also don't take walk ins, so please leave. I left. At half past four that afternoon I got an email from the contact saying sorry but they don't have time that day, is there another time I'm available. I did not reply. Another story. One time after applying I got a call, it was from the agency that listed the ad. They had me on file, I had signed on with them two years previous, but could I please come in and sign on again. I replied that none of my information had changed, and I had never actually left the agency's rolls, so why did I need to sign on again? She agreed and ended the call. I never heard from them again. To this day I am confused as to what people who work in job agencies actually do.

Back to my search. Every day I checked a few different websites and applied for whatever I had a shot at. When you do this everyday, you're effectively staying current in the market, seeing stuff the same day it's posted and you can skip the things you've seen before. The upside of this is that you're not wasting time on old listings that already have lots of applications. The downside is you see how few jobs are being posted day to day. But still, you apply, and you actually get results. People call you and invite you in to interview. Things get more frustrating than when dealing with agencies. You get a date, time and location. You make arrangements, put on your suit, show up. You smile, you shake hands, you answer their questions. They say thank you and goodbye. It's some time until you hear from them, or from a representative. The answer is always no. The reason for why it's no is rarely there. Occasionally you get told that one of the other candidates was better in some way, which is understandable. The rest of the time, nothing to tell you why. One time I got the call that I hadn't been selected, and when I asked why they said "client suitability". I asked what that meant, they replied that I didn't tick all the boxes that they wanted. I asked which boxes were lacking. We went round and round a little until I backed them into a corner, and they admitted that they didn't know why I wasn't chosen. I just about held back from asking why the fuck they bothered to call. Just.

After about two years of searching, applications, rare interviews, no feedback, I decided to do something about it. I got in touch with careers advisers again and they forwarded me to a local office where I could be given a mock interview. I wanted to know why I was being told no all the time, and I was determined to get an answer. The nice group sent me a list of questions ahead of time to make prepared answers for, which was good. On the day I suited up, went along and we sat down. The questions were all generic, as they couldn't do an interview for a specific job. It was all about my skills, what I could bring to the table, my goals. I answered everything as best I could. The mock interview ended and I asked what I'm doing wrong. I was told "that was great, I'd hire you on the spot". I think that's the worst bit of feedback I've ever received. No advice or ideas on why I wasn't being selected. The best they could offer me was to flat out ask how I did on the day to get immediate feedback.

We're into the final stretch now. The last year at the bad job. I didn't know it yet of course, I was still getting rejected all the time and had days when I felt I could lie down on the floor of the office and go to sleep in the middle of the day. It's worth noting this period because things got a little better, and they also got worse. What to go over first. How about promotions? The entire time I worked at the company, I was not promoted. I was the same grade the day I left as the day I was made permanent staff. The way to get promoted and the raise that goes with it was to make your boss like you. That's a bit difficult when you're unsociable, depressed, and your immediate superior is an idiot you refuse to talk to. Really, on paper she was my manager and was responsible for my annual assessments. In practice, her boss handled those for me and I refused to go back. So no promotion for me. It was promised by the CEO in that last year that the company would formalise the way to get promoted. You don't need to be liked if you're good at what you do, I think. That method was yet to be published when I left, likely because there was so many people that could rightly kick up a fuss at being passed over in the past. So there's that. Next, bonuses. The company, when it was formed, was an offshoot of Zurich as I said. Being a limited company, there were shares available that could only be held by certain people, including employees. These shares were allocated out to the staff as bonuses each year on the reason that one day the company would be sold and everyone would get a big payout. Well, in my last year with the company, it was announced that these shares actually had an expiry date. Ten years after allocation, if the company wasn't sold then the shares were void. All that promise of a payout evaporated. The company wasn't going to sell, the plan was to go public. But, bonuses for the staff. What to do instead? Well, they instituted a "long term incentive plan", where on four-year cycles staff would be given a moderate payout by the company. The first cycle would start the following year, and as a reward to all the staff that had been with company for a decade already, they would be getting *slightly* more than people who had joined yesterday. No one cheered. Related to bonuses, annual raises. Inflation is real, you need to keep pay going with it. But how much? That is what the annual appraisal determines. For a long time you were given a score out of 150. Most people got 85-95. Reasonable. It got you a modest bump in pay. In the last year, the system was changed to grading out out of five. Not five hundred, five. The lowest you could get was a one. Things got a bit more black and white. And, I was given a two. Not because I had actually done badly, but because I wasn't fulfilling my potential, apparently. No, I don't know what that could look like. So a few months later (after the boss' boss had changed) when everyone was getting letters about how much they were getting extra, I didn't get a letter. That two cost me all possibility of a raise. That grates. What grates more is that also in that last year a new guy was hired to the team who had no more responsibility than me, but was hired to a the upper grade (with the extra money). Similar to the money situation, was the wellbeing situation. Every year the company ran a survey to see how the staff felt things were going. Every year I filled it out and told them how miserable I was. In the last year, it turned out that everyone in my team had filled out the survey to similar effect. 40 people who all worked together weren't happy with their lot. So one day we were excused from normal duties (button pushing) and taken next door to a hotel to sit in a conference room and talk. We were shown graphics of our survey results and asked what could be done to improve those scores. What weren't we happy about? What could be changed? Being someone who had given this a lot of thought, I was able to answer. I spoke of all the problems, the unmoving, the boredom, the being ignored. And after that day, nothing changed. I sometimes wonder if anything ever did. By far, the strangest story of that last year is when I was asked to train a new hire. I didn't want to, but the bosses insisted. What's strange about this is that the person exposed a flaw in the hiring system. They were a simpleton. I taught them the basics of how spreadsheets worked, once answered a question with "you asked me that yesterday and wrote down what I told you", and I corrected their work again and again. It would be called amazing if it wasn't tragic. The job that was so easy and boring it gave me depression, was too hard for this person. Eventually, an excuse was found to fire them. And new hires after that described tests they took before being taken on.

The incredible thing about this entire journey, is that I don't remember the most important part. The day I applied for my current job. I can't remember seeing the ad, or filling out a form, or writing an email. That single, critical moment that would see my life change is missing from my memory. It was the job hunt of course. Searching every day, the phone ringing occasionally, always being told no, what's the point of remembering a single application? So I didn't. And it was a surprise when the phone rang to invite me for an interview. Naturally, I suited up and went along. I remember the clock on the wall over the interviewers' shoulders. I remember finding a fleck of white in the glass of water I had been given and looking up to see if the paint was peeling off the ceiling. I can't really remember the questions. I can remember when my car stopped on the drive home. The battery had died, I had to get a jump start to get home then order a replacement. Aside from the car trouble, it was just another interview. So it was a greater surprise when I got the call about the second interview. When I went along, one of the people I had met the first time remembered me and said hi. I was shocked, I also didn't remember them. I met the people that are now my bosses and spoke to them. I recall near the end I asked the 'how did I do?' question, and expected to get a non-answer. I was told that so long as I did well on the test then I had it in the bag. Okay then, more pressure please. They had told me about the test beforehand, and I brought along my own pens for it. One day, I hope to interview an assistant or replacement proofreader, and I'll ask to see what pens they brought. By far, the biggest shock was when I got that phone call, and was told I had the job. I can't recall exactly what I said, but I doubted that it was real, wanted to know if they were sure, something like that. After that call, I had to collect my thoughts and hold back from bursting into tears. I went back to my desk and immediately handed in my notice. It was within two days either way of eleven years after I had started at 8.30am on a Monday.

The month of my notice was an epilogue. Word spread that I was leaving. I smiled more than I ever had. People asked how I'd gotten the job, I told them about the journey. No one asked me if I was sure, I was the guy that said "I would love to be made redundant". But there was the meeting. In the larger team of 40, I was in a pod of eight. We all worked on the same stuff. This pod included the guy who was hired to be above me, and the idiot boss. A few days before the meeting, she asked me if there was anything I did that I thought other people would need to take care of when I wasn't there. I had a list. I wrote it down, and this list was put onto the agenda for the meeting. They were going to hear about all the busywork I did when there was nothing else to do that was actually really productive. On the day, we stood and left our desks to go to the meeting, the boss turns to me and asked me to take the minutes of the meeting. I told her that as I was doing the explaining and handover, I was going to be doing a lot of talking. She said, and I kid you not, "But last time you did the minutes it was really funny". I put my foot down and refused. In the meeting, no one quite believed what I was doing when they weren't watching me. The small things that kept everything moving. Keeping a spreadsheet updated. Pushing a button off and on each day. Checking for data entry errors. The majority of this work went to the grade-above guy. Finally, the day came. I left on a Friday. The following Monday I did my new commute to the new office, with new people and new work. I try not to look back, to get angry. But things keep bubbling up, so I thought I would write it all down here.

I have to recognise through all of this how lucky I was. Friends and family were there to support me. I had the resources to maintain my coping mechanisms. I caught the problem before it became an issue big enough to interfere with my work. I live in a time of the Internet that I could search for a phrase like "depression test" and find free resources. I live in a country with free healthcare, so saw doctors, pharmacists and therapists for no cost. That same country has subsidised medicine, so for the same cost (less then £9) as any other prescription, I got custom-made bottles with enough liquid to last a month. I was given a medication that gave me no ill effects on the first try. Said medication didn't become ineffective while I was taking it. I had the support and energy to keep working and job hunt at the same time. Four and a half years of living in a house of cards where anything could have brought it all crashing down. And then where would I be? Maybe back on the dual carriageway, looking at the gap in the barrier. But I was lucky, and now I'm here.

I stopped taking the antidepressants six months into the new job. Aside from a little lightheadedness of withdrawal, nothing happened. No exhaustion. No sadness. No lack of appetite or inability to sleep. It was over. I don't like saying 'cured', and I can't say 'free', because in a sense I'll never be free. This happened to me. All of it. And I can't just forget it, pretend it didn't happen. For starters it's eleven years of my life, I can't sweep that under the rug. I guess what I can do is learn from it, and keep it as a warning. Know the red flags in case it happens again.

If you've read all of the above, thanks I guess. It's definitely the longest blog I've written to date, and will likely be the longest I ever write. It took several days to pull it all together. While the events are true to the best of my recollection, it is possible that I'm misremembering them, putting things in the wrong time or attributing to the wrong person. If you or someone you know is experiencing depression, and don't have a good societal infrastructure to go to for help, I recommend talking to friends, family or colleagues. There's the cliche of the person that attempts suicide and survives, then the self harm being labelled 'a cry for help'. Don't let it get that far. Be open with your feelings, and encourage others to do likewise. In the end, it's okay to admit that you're not okay.

#mental health #working life #bad job

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intj-confessions · 6 years ago

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Competency of Others

As an ISTJ, it is so damned hard to sit back and let someone else do a task you’d prefer to be doing yourself.

Every year I print custom calendars for my sisters. They’re not a standard set up. Back when I worked in a print center this wasn’t an issue. I ran the job myself and a coworker would verify my work and ring me up.

Now every time I need them printed I have to sit back and watch someone else fumble it. I’ve streamlined the job as much as possible and I try my best not to nitpick or be That Customer, but I have resting bitch face so who knows how I’m coming off. One year a guy punched the binding on the wrong side. Rather than reprint it, he cut off the error (and the margin along with it). Now every year I place sticky notes with arrows saying “punch here” and pray employees don’t take offense.

Today I didn’t notice as an employee took my job to the slide cutter instead of the big cutter. It’s a large stack, and should automatically go to the big cutter, but for some reason she tried to do it manually. She realized her error after the first few sheets and switched, but not before cutting those sheets off center. I brought this up and told her to rerun the sheets. She went to cut them again (this is not a fix, it would make three random pages too short) and I told her to run them again. It took her about 15 minutes to figure out how to rerun double sided color prints. As much as I try to keep my face neutral it probably looks like this

Because again, resting bitch face.

In the meantime she had other customers piling up, so I asked if I could do the lamination myself behind the counter to expedite things. I always feel weird asking that. It’s not like she knows me or my previous lengthy experience working in copy centers, and businesses generally don’t want customers behind the counter. I could *gasp* burn myself or trip on a cord and sue. She said I could, as long as I was familiar with the equipment, so I did. Internally I’m cringing when I see someone stuck 11x17 lamination sheets in the 8.5x14 stack but w/e not my problem.

Then when she went to cut the new copies I asked her to cut a test sheet first. Another cutting job had come in between my cuts and I wanted to make sure it was adjusted correctly. I wasn’t mad about it, but it’s really the kind of thing that employees should be trained to do. “Measure twice, cut once.” And again, I don’t know if I’m coming off as pushy or not, but this is the kind of job where if it gets fucked up the store has to re-run 80 double sided color copies and no one wants that.

Retail is hard and customer service is awful. I’m trying to make it as easy as possible without coming off as belligerent. I know firsthand how that feels.

#retail #customer service #istj

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foundry001 · 4 years ago

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Week 2: Laser cutter

This week, there are 3 assignments using the 2D cutting machines.

1. Design, lasercut, and document a parametric press-fit construction kit

Buckyballs and Dymaxion globes

My original idea was to make a 3D geometrical form such as a buckyball or dymaxion globe. These can be assembled from flat pentagrams or triangles, and there are many designs online for assemblies based on paper-folding techniques.

I hoped to adapt one of these to use a tab and slot construction. However, while sketching out possible arrangements of slots and tabs, I couldn’t find a way to make them fit. These are ‘gendered’ attachment systems, so using construction panels with od numbers of sides would always result in either too many slots or too many tabs.

Rhombic Dodecahedron

Eventually I found a 3D form that can be assembled from flat planes with equal numbers of sides. A rhombic dodecahedron is made from 12 panels of equally-shaped rhombi. It looks like this:

Source: Wikipedia. Licence Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported

The rhombi must be of specific proportions to be assembled in this way. The smaller angle (alpha in the diagram below) should be 70.53°.

Source MathWorld. © Wolfram Research, Inc.

My plan was to add slots and tabs to each side so these could be assembled into the 3D form.

Parametric design

I used Fusion 360 to model the basic form, and then exported the DXF file to Illustrator

I set up 3 parameters, for the overall size of each rhombus, the length and thickness of the slots. I used these parameters to size the sides of the rhombus and the slots, but also the length of the tabs, and the position of the slots relative to the edge of the rhombus.

I exported the sketch as a DXF, and then opened that in Illustrator, where I cleaned up the lines, and joined the separate parts into one outline. I then tiled this to create 15 parts.

I set each part to a fill of none, and a line thickness of 0.001mm (the thickness specified for vector cutting on our laser)

After some trial and error, I found these settings to work for the stock I’m using

Stock: 3mm corrugated cardboard Speed: 50% Power: 50% Frequency: 600Hz

I cut the card directly on aluminium foil sheet laid down on the honeycomb bed to help disperse the laser reflections and avoid scorching. The card was very clean underneath. We stuck it down to the rulers at the origin point, and weighed down the opposite corner to keep the card flat against the z-axis.

Results

The first 4 cuts at the top of the image are test cuts with different settings. The lower twelve were cut at the settings above, which were about right.

Problems

Paths: My Illustrator file originally didn’t cut. It seemed to have extraneous lines that weren’t visible as they were coincident with the actual lines of the model, and may shapes had compound paths or groupings that caused problems when sending the file to print.

I think this was caused primarily by the mess I made of the Fusion 360 file. So for my next model, I’ll try again making a simple shape in Fusion.

Kerf: I assumed that the small kerf of the laser would not be noticeable, given the inaccuracy of the material I was using. And the fit was pretty good, but I think I could adjust the slot thickness slightly - perhaps only 0.2mm thinner.

Model design: More importantly, my parts don’t actually fit together into a model! The tabs have to fit into slots within the internal area of adjacent rhombi, and as soon as you have 2 or more pieces assembled, they start to interfere.

Plan B: make something simpler

I’m going to try a simpler form:

a cube, with square sides meeting at 90° angles

joined with finger joints that make a flush edge, so the joints don’t interfere with the internal geometry of the face

I can also mock up the joints in Fusion 360 to get a rough idea as to whether it will fit together, which is much more difficult with parts that meet at non-perpendicular angles.

Thwarted again!

I want to make identical panels that will all fit together (by rotating or flipping if necessary), but all my attempts to model such panels have failed. And the online template generators that will build a finger-jointed box for you, all create differently shaped panels for each face. Which leads me to believe that I will have to follow the same approach.

Box generators:

http://www.makercase.com

https://makeabox.io

My failed attempts:

Plan C: make something I actually need

This morning, I realised that there is actually something I need, which could be made with a press fit kit: a set of variable drawer dividers to go in the drawers I’m making for our campervan.

I used Fusion 360. I tried a couple of methods, after a shared setup:

Common setup

Set up parameters for all the variables I might need

In sketch mode, create a rectangle for the overall shape of each dividers

Create a slot in the left-most position. Use a center rectangle for the slot, dimensioned from the left.

Method 1 (fillet the slots in 3D, export the face as a cut outline)

Create a rectangular pattern to multiply out the slots to fill out the whole width of the piece

Exit the sketch, and in the main mode, extrude out the overall outline (to any thickness) leaving behind a cutout where the slot goes

Fillet the exterior corners of each slot

Create a drawing of the part, viewed from the same plane as the surface of the divider

Open this PDF in Illustrator

Delete all the extraneous lines

Join the part lines to create a continuous path

Cut!

With this method, you can create one continuous cut line (with some fiddling in Illustrator). You can also vary the parameters to create different numbers of slots all the way through the model design. But it does introduce this roundabout step of exporting a drawing in order to extract a 2D shape from a 3D part

Alternative method (2D all the way, export the sketch as cut outline)

Create a slot in the left-most position. Use a center rectangle for the slot, dimensioned from the left.

Break the exterior rectangle at the point where it meets the exterior end of the slot rectangle.

Delete the short length of line remaining from the exterior rectangle where it crosses the opening of the slot

Fillet the exterior corners of the slot

Create a rectangular pattern to multiply out the filleted slot to fill out the whole width of the piece

Stop the sketch, and save the part as a DXF

Open this DXF in Illustrator

Cut!

With is method, everything is done in the sketch. The laser cutter should cut out the outline, and then separately cut out each slot, rather than making one continuous cut – but that shouldn’t make a huge practical difference…

Cutting test

I cut some test pieces in cardboard, before using MDF, which would be a better material for the final pieces.

My first test cut worked fine, and as I’d hoped cutting the slots seperately made no difference.

I now have some prototype pieces cut in card, which I can test out in the drawers, before trying a more sturdy material.

2. Cut something on the vinylcutter

We made some test cuts on vinyl and decal paper, and for my first experiment, I’m going to use the vinyl cutter for it’s ‘killer app’, making a laptop sticker.

This is a design I adapted from some artwork produced by the Kibbo Kift, a mid-20th Century group of revolutionary ramblers who made many ritualistic costumes and insignia. I like this wolf/dog profile as it also serves as an icon of my dog, Loki.

The two circles in the template mark the exterior boundary of the glowing Apple logo on my laptop, and an interior area all safely within the glowing part of the cutout. So the silhouette should be lit, while the sticker background masks out the Apple logo.

Cutting test

It cut fine with these settings:

Force: 50 gf Speed: 20cm/sec Blade offset: 0.25mm

However, my paths had a thickness, so as I peeled the sticker off, I realised that they had actually been cut as very thin strips themselves. So I need to try again with thinner paths in Illustrator.

The other gotcha I encountered was the Illustrator print area being misaligned in the print dialog. It needs to be pinned to the bottom left corner so it marries up with vinyl piece.

I should have cleaned my laptop first…

I also need to remeasure the logo as, despite doing this at the start, my design needed to be adjusted so that the sticker masked off the Apple logo.

3. Group assignment: characterise your lasercutter, making test part(s) that vary cutting settings and dimensions

We’ve been doing experiments with both cutters to find settings that work

Laser cutter

For 2mm MDF: Raster Settings: 50% speed and 100% power Vector settings: Speed 35%, power 100%, frequency 800 Hz.

For 3.2mm MDF: Raster Settings: 50% speed and 100% power Vector settings: Speed 20%, power 100%, frequency 500 Hz.

For 2.10mm ACRYLIC: Raster Settings: 50% speed and 100% power Vector settings: Speed 20%, power 100%, frequency 5000 Hz.

Our Reference docs

Live Google doc for laser cutter / PDF export

Live Google doc for vinyl cutter / PDF export

Files

Drawer dividers:

Link to Fusion 360 file in public cloud: https://a360.co/2qpjPE1

Fusion 360 test file download

Loki sticker:

EPS file download

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jouissezduprintemps · 7 years ago

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Those Damned Books

Rating: T Words: 3334 Fandom: Naruto Summary: Kakashi realizes that his apartment isn’t big enough. Tenzo does his best to remain the responsible one. Kakashi ANBU era. KakaYama.

Tenzo’s breathing was soft an even, his lips parted ever so slightly in his sleep. The way he positioned his body, at first, made Kakashi wonder if he was feigning it. His kouhai lay on his side, knees bent in a fetal position, with one arm draped over his torso and the other bent so that his hand rested beside his face on the pillow. Kakashi had waited long enough to realize that this was, in fact, how Tenzo slept. For whatever reason, he hadn’t noticed it before now. Rather, he didn’t care to notice. It amused Kakashi to no end, comfortable as he was when splayed out in all directions when he slept alone.

As he lay sandwiched between the wall and the warm body next to him, he reflected that, now, he really needed to get a new bed. It was one thing for his legs to hang off while he slept; after last night, there was the added challenge of not kicking Tenzo to the floor when his vivid dreams took him. But, a new bed meant less space in a flat he’d already filled. Maybe it was time to move. He was twenty after all, an age considered by almost everyone that qualified him as an ‘adult.’ It couldn’t hurt to find a place that had more than six walls, if he counted the two that separated the bathroom from the rest of his home. Hadn’t his landlady mentioned an opening?

After their fight, when Kakashi had finally come down from his traumatic reaction, Tenzo refused to leave him alone. Too tired to argue anymore, Kakashi relented and allowed him to stay. He winced at the memory, regretting what was said and how he’d spiraled into those parts of himself he didn’t want Tenzo to see. Hopefully, his kouhai wouldn’t ask about it when he woke. Doing his best not to jostle the bed, Kakashi was all kneecaps and elbows as he flipped himself over onto his stomach, falling into a comfortable position. He froze for several seconds to make sure Tenzo was still asleep before reaching up to the shelf on his headboard, pulling down his most recent copy of Icha Icha.

He bent the covers back to loosen the spine, and the pages made that satisfying crinkling sound that each new book gets only once. Bookworm that he was, it was one of Kakashi’s favorite things. It was better than sex. Well… almost. Eagerly, he opened the cover to the title page, taking a moment to read the short inscription that prefaced each volume he owned. In scratchy handwriting below the printed title read:

To Kakashi~

Now that you’re over eighteen, the old man won’t be able to confiscate this package! (Though, you always seem to find a way around that one. Your sensei and I are so proud.) Enjoy, but not too much. Make sure you actually get outside and talk to some real, live girls every now and again, eh?

Until the next volume

xJiraiya

Kakashi smiled as he deciphered the characters, which was a challenge with how Jiraiya wrote. He bit back a chuckle, wondering if Lord Hiruzen had tried to get his hands on this volume. For a Hokage, old man Sarutobi was terrible at hiding things. As he got older, Kakashi wondered if he had been hiding the other volumes at all, or if he was making a show of it to cover his backside. He turned the crisp page, full of excitement now that he could see the conclusion to the cliffhanger last volume tortured him with – and for three years, at that!

He allowed himself the luxury of reading through the first chapter, which was a denouement from the previous book’s closing chapter. It was probably a trick to sell more copies, but Jiraiya loved leaving the books just before the best part. Curiosity sated, he took the page between his fingers, intent on beginning the second chapter. A knock on his front door had him, regretfully, dog-earing the first page in this volume. It was inevitable that almost all of them would suffer the same fate at one point or another, but there was just something so melancholy about marking the first one.

The volume found its place back on the shelf as the knock sounded again. “’Comin!” Kakashi called, stumbling over Tenzo gracelessly. As he slipped, he took the man down with him, tangling them both in a pile of sheets and limbs that landed with a dull thud that only a human body could make.

“Are you okay?” The knocking became insistent. “Kakashi-taichou!”

Disoriented and sleepy as he was, Tenzo was the first to recognize the voice. “Yugao!” he hissed.

Kakashi swung his arms frantically, gesturing to the other side of his apartment. “Bathroom!”

Tenzo ran as quickly and quietly as he could to the one room of Kakashi’s flat that wasn’t part of his ridiculous open-floor plan. To his dismay, Kakashi realized he was dressed only in his boxers. Shit, he couldn’t keep Yugao waiting any longer if he didn’t want her to think something was wrong. Hastily, he took his blanket and wrapped it around himself like a cloak, clumsily holding the edge to his face in lieu of his mask.

When he cracked his front door, Yugao had her fist raised to knock again. Awkwardly, she lowered it. “Kakashi-taichou, you scheduled training for the new recruits for over an hour ago.” She studied him with suspicion, eyes inquiring about his fashion choice.

Fuck, that was today. Well, it wasn’t like he was never late. He’d gotten over that eccentricity after Obito. His team should know by now to proceed as instructed without him when it came to training. “Right. Yeah, I’ll be right there. I just overslept.”

“Please hurry.” She turned to leave, but stopped to look over her shoulder. “And Taichou, remind Tenzo if you see him. We sent Itachi-kun to his apartment, but it was empty.” Beneath her words ran the message because he’s the reliable one, and we’re actually worried.

Kakashi waited until she teleported before closing the door. He slumped with his back against it, letting out a sigh of relief. “Fuck, that was close.”

“Too close,” Tenzo agreed. “It’s lucky she didn’t think to look for chakra signatures.”

“She had no reason to.” Kakashi shrugged. He picked his pants up from where he’d tossed his dirty clothes in a pile the night before.

“Guess not.” Tenzo pulled his undershirt down over his head, puzzled at the strange tightness across his torso. Once he pulled it down, the excess fabric at the neck showed him his error. “Nope, yours.”

“Trade.” Kakashi tossed him the proper shirt before Tenzo removed his, passing it over. It would have been amusing if they weren’t so late, and if that mistake wouldn’t have been serious among their teammates.

“What’s our cover?” Tenzo asked as he tightened the straps on his armor.

“I don’t need one. They’re used to it by now. Yugao will probably tell them I overslept or something.”

“Well, what about me?”

“Yeah, that’s tough… I don’t know, you were doing something good. Being helpful. Carrying groceries for an old woman? Getting a cat out of a tree?”

“Are you mocking me?”

“You don’t understand. Obito was late every single day, and it was because of crap like that.”

Tenzo was surprised to hear Kakashi speak so casually about his friend. Even Kakashi seemed caught off guard by the way his visible eye widened. Trying not to make a big deal out of what he considered an essential step of the grieving process, Tenzo broke the silence. “Cat out of a tree it is.”

“Right. Um, I’ll go out through the window, and you… wait, I don’t know, thirty seconds then phase through the door?”

“Done.” Tenzo watched as Kakashi climbed out his window before disappearing in a silver flash. Thoughtfully, he picked up the discarded blanket and took a moment to make the bed, unable to leave it in disarray. He’d be preoccupied with it all day, otherwise. Cat mask in hand, he activated his jutsu before walking through the locked door like it was made of water.

In an instant, he was on the training grounds, only a few feet behind Yugao. He jogged forward, informing her, “Sorry I’m late.”

“Everything okay? You’re never late.”

“Tsuki-chan’s kitten got stuck in one of the big oaks. It’s so small, I didn’t think it could get down itself.”

“You’re a bleeding heart.” Yugao looked in front of them, where young ninja were sparring, two-on-two. “I had to send a few home, already. Nothing special, a call you or Kakashi-taichou would’ve made.”

“I trust you,” Tenzo affirmed. “He’s running behind again, is he?”

“After I sent Itachi to find you, and he came back empty-handed, I went to find him myself. The state he was in, we’ll be lucky to see him at all. At least you’re here, now. We can finally get things going.”

Securing his mask over his face, Tenzo stepped forward and gave a sharp whistle, at which the sparring came to an immediate halt. “Switch from taijutsu to ninjutsu!”

“Sir!” chorused the recruits before turning back to their opponents.

Tenzo sensed an abnormal surge of chakra behind him, and he turned on his heel to face the potential threat. To his surprise, Lord Hiruzen was looking on, studying the recruits as they fought.

“Lord Hokage!” Tenzo lowered into a bow, which Yugao followed not a second later.

Hiruzen waved his hand lazily. “Relax. I just came to see what the new group was like.” His brow creased when he realized that there were only two agents in front of him. “Where’s Kakashi?”

“He should be on his way here shortly, my lord,” Yugao assured the hokage.

Hurizen pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “I’m going to ban those damned books from this village.”

“Books, my lord?” Tenzo inquired.

“Jiraiya’s drivel he’s peddling as romance novels. They’ve caused me nothing but trouble, much like their author…” He frowned. “Every time he publishes a new one, like clockwork, he sends a copy to Kakashi. Really, these are jonin-level ninja we’re talking about. The next time-” Aware that he was rambling, he shook his head, dismissing his train of thought. “But that’s why you’re here, Tenzo. You know, Team Kai needs a new captain.”

“I’m honored, sir, but I think it’s pretty clear that I’m needed on Team Ro.”

Unable to argue with his logic, the hokage shrugged. “It’s open if you change your mind.” Turning his attention back to the recruits, he mumbled, “I think Uchiha is the last one we’ll be getting out of this year’s batch. Keep them going for now, for appearances. Give them one more practice before sending them home.”

“Yes, sir.” Tenzo bowed once more. While an unfortunate turn of events for the recruits, it wasn’t uncommon in the slightest. The ANBU were the best of the best. Any ninja who fell outside the top one percent wasn’t worth the armor they’d wear. It was a sad, somewhat cynical fact that most of these ninja would be buried in their uniform just the moment after they put it on. He watched Hiruzen walk down the road. Yugao waited until the hokage was out of earshot before speaking up.

“That’s disappointing. Predictable, but still.”

“We were able to get a handful this time around, which is better than usual. There’s nothing we can do; Lord Hokage’s veto makes it a done deal.” Tenzo cracked his knuckles. “Itachi’s already proven to be more of an asset than Kakashi-senpai thought.”

“Yeah, I guess we didn’t need him, after all.” Yugao was clearly annoyed that she ran across the village for nothing. “Really, those books can’t be that interesting.”

“I can lend them to you if you’re curious.” Kakashi’s voice spoke from behind. Yugao and Tenzo jumped, spinning to face their captain. Sure enough, his nose was in his latest volume, and he raised his hand in a wordless greeting. “The plot is really compelling.”

Yugao snorted. “Sure.”

“Lord Hokage told us to send these recruits home at the end of the day,” Tenzo informed his superior, trying to be businesslike. “He’s not accepting any of them.”

“Why the end of the day? We can just send them home now.” Kakashi peered over the top of his book.

“He wants to keep up appearances.”

“Oh, for god’s sake.” Kakashi closed his book with a snap and strode forward, whistling far more loudly and sharply than Tenzo had done. Once he was sure he had everyone’s attention, he declared. “None of you made it. Go home.”

Amidst displeased grumblings and several swears, the recruits began to disperse when they realized the ANBU agent was serious. “Kakashi-senpai,” Tenzo began in a scolding tone.

“What? It’s a waste of their time, and it’s a waste of ours. I came all the way out here just to tell these guys that they didn’t make the cut. If Lord Hiruzen gets angry, it’s all on me, okay?” In a fluid motion, he re-opened his book, sticking his free hand in his pocket.

Yugao and Tenzo looked at one another, a silent exchange passing between them before Yugao vanished. She saw no reason to stay, after all. Tenzo began to form a series of hand signs when Kakashi glanced up at him. “I need a second set of hands later. Think you can come by in a couple hours?”

“Um, yeah, sure,” Tenzo agreed, puzzled by his request. If Kakashi actually asked for help, he needed it. That wasn’t his way of using double entendre, and there was nothing in his body language to suggest it should be taken that way.

“Great.” He smiled, and, with a slight wave, Kakashi started walking in the direction of his home.

The sun had reached its peak when Tenzo, freshly showered and in a new set of civilian clothes, trudged up the steps to Kakashi’s apartment. The front door was propped open, which made him instantly suspicious. The ruckus from inside told him Kakashi wasn’t alone.

“It’ll be fine!” Guy’s booming voice said in assurance.

“I know you can lift it. It’s the cardboard that’s the problem.” He could practically hear Kakashi rolling his eyes.

“I know a thing or two about structural integrity.”

As Tenzo climbed the last step, he was able to see Guy standing in front of the bookshelf, piling paperbacks into a cardboard box. He stepped over the threshold and caught sight of Kakashi in his kitchen. He was barefoot, standing precariously on the countertop as he retrieved something Tenzo couldn’t see from on top of the cabinet. He looked over his shoulder at Tenzo, but, with both hands occupied, he had to settle for a verbal greeting. “Yo. Thanks for coming.”

“What’s going on?” Tenzo asked with caution.

“I’m moving. I thought I told you.”

“What? When did this happen?”

“Hmm, three, four hours ago?” Sensing his confusion, Kakashi explained, “My landlady owns the whole building, and there’s this family on the first floor that just moved out. You know, to get a house. It’s a little more expensive, but hey, I won’t be getting letters every month complaining that I exceed maximum capacity by roughly ten every couple of weeks.”

“Just start packing boxes,” Guy declared. “Don’t worry about what goes where. He’ll have it unpacked tomorrow morning, I’m sure.” Bandaged hands reached down and lifted the cardboard box, which he balanced on his shoulder to keep from tearing at the bottom. “Down to 105!” After informing Tenzo of the new location, he strode out the door to deposit the box.

Tenzo took advantage of his absence to say, “Kakashi, you can’t just make decisions like that.”

“Why not?” Kakshi asked as his feet touched back down on the floor. “I need more space, the apartment’s vacant, and I don’t have to go looking.”

“Because it takes more than three hours to decide whether or not to move. It’s a big decision.”

“Not for me. Actually, I think it would be nice to have a real bedroom, with a bed I fit on. Maybe I can use the kitchen now. Or, I could have the guys over and keep them in one room. Think about it, one room. I won’t have to clean the entire place.” He smiled, his eyes turning into crescents. “C’mon, Tenzo. 200 square feet to 400.”

Tenzo looked around the cramped apartment, which was, truly, not big enough for even one person to live in. “I mean, as long as you’ve thought it out.”

“I have. It would be suicide to bring a new mattress in here, and the one I have just isn’t cutting it.”

Before Tenzo could comment, Guy returned, flashing them a thumbs-up. “Told you I had it.”

“Yeah, you did, Guy.” Kakashi gave a placating grin. “Do me a favor and grab the bookcase next, would you? I’ll feel better once they’re back in place.”

“You know your attachment to books is strange, right?”

“Not going there.”

Guy responded with a laugh. “Whatever you say, Kakashi.”

What few belongings Kakashi possessed were easily moved down to the bottom floor, with only a few of the larger pieces requiring more than one person to navigate down the stairs. The new apartment was far nicer, containing a full-sized kitchen, a living room, and, as Kakashi was so thrilled to have, a separate bedroom. Even though he lived alone, he sorely missed his privacy when he had company. His friends were too nosy for their own good, most of the time.

Guy departed once the last of the boxes were safely inside. Choza was treating his old squad to dinner, to celebrate Ebisu’s promotion to special jonin. Left to the task, Kakashi and Tenzo set about unpacking in relative silence. The book case in the living room was slowly filled in a system that only Kakashi could understand, and Tenzo managed to find a place in the kitchen for everything.

The walls were bare, and the space seemed overwhelming, but it was something to get used to. Kakashi wouldn’t care much about decoration, and Tenzo planned to slowly introduce various wall hangings or pieces to the apartment when he visited. All at once would be too much for Kakashi; better to ease him into it.

The white-haired man was kicking the leg of his couch lightly, almost prodding it, with a displeased expression. Tenzo waited for him to say something. When he didn’t, Tenzo relented.

“What is it?”

“I don’t wanna sleep on the couch,” came a grumbled response. They’d spent so much time moving and unpacking that he hadn’t taken care of his sleeping arrangement. All he had was a box of blankets and pillows sitting on the floor of the empty bedroom.

He sighed. “You’re asking me if you can stay the night, aren’t you?”

His lack of protest told him all he needed to know.

“Just… come on.” Tenzo gestured for him to follow. “This is why I try to make you think things out, you know?”

“Maa, Tenzo, don’t lecture me. I’ve had a long day moving.”

“Yes, I’m aware. Do you have your keys?”

Kakashi withdrew his hand from his pocket, keyring around his middle finger. He held lazily at eye level before returning it to its place. With that, the door was shut and locked, and the pair set off.

“You know, when someone helps somebody move, they usually pay them back by buying dinner or alcohol,” Tenzo informed his companion.

“I would, but I don’t have my wallet.”

“We can go back for it.”

Kakashi shook his head, walking with his head tilted toward the ground. “Can’t. Locked myself out,” he lied, keeping his best poker face. He stumbled when Tenzo bumped him with his shoulder, a gesture he hadn’t expected in a public setting.

“I can’t stand you, Senpai.”

#kakayama #naruto #naruto shippuden #naruto fanfiction #fanfiction #kakashi hatake #yamato tenzo

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fanfic-from-a-67-impala · 7 years ago

Text

A Supernatural x Reader Story Chapter Twenty-Five: Trial and Error

Word count: 4529

(You can also read it on Wattpad here)

Master Post

Hunched over your steering wheel, you glance between the slip of paper in your hand and the map on your computer screen resting in the passenger seat, and fish out your phone to dial Sam back.

"(Y/N)?" he answers. "Hey. Are you here?"

Surely, your information is wrong. The only building around is some kind of power plant – an abandoned one, you think – with mold and rust creeping up and down its ancient brick walls, and below it, a steel door surrounded by a red brick wall that makes you think it could be some kind of military structure.

"I– I don't know," you reply. "Are you sure you gave me the right coordinates? It's, um... it's pretty empty out –"

The clanging sound of the metal door opening cuts you off. You panic. If this is some sort of official military building and you were found on their property, there would be trouble, considering any ID you could produce would be fake, and there are weapons hidden in every nook and cranny of the car.

You are relieved to see Sam exiting the building, pocketing his phone. He walks into the mid-morning sun across the narrow road to your car, smiling, and meets you before you get the chance to close the door behind you, pulling you into a hug.

He smells like soap, you note as he pulls away. Not like the Impala, or some grimy motel bed. He smells like something comfortable, something normal. Like good soap.

You barely keep yourself from cringing at what you must look like in comparison. You haven't slept in days, the last of which you spent on the road, and you could never seem to ditch the cheap motel room scent, no matter how many showers you took before you left.

"So, what's this 'good news' all about?" you ask.

When he and Dean called you a couple of weeks ago, you were on a hunt on the east coast, and more and more cases came your way. But they said it wasn't urgent, that it was good news, and to make it out when you could.

"Bring your stuff," he tells you, smiling. "Clothes, supplies – whatever you have."

You eye him for a moment, suspicious of what he could be planning, but sharing his smile. Finally, you grab your duffel from the backseat and swing it over your shoulder, taking your gun but leaving the rest.

The door opens with a clank and he leads you inside.

You don't know what you were expecting, but it was not what you are met with. A wave of warm air hits you, a welcome contrast to the chilly March air. After taking a couple of steps inside, you see that you are standing on a balcony overlooking a huge room that curves inward and, at the center, has a table with an illuminated world map. On a table in a corner lays a switchboard, among other antique forms of communication.

Sam nudges your shoulder and gestures to a staircase to your right. You climb down, eyes still taking in the room.

"What is this place?" you ask once you reach the bottom step.

"Remember us telling you about our grandfather?" he says.

"Your grandfather, who time-traveled from sixty years ago?" you question. "Still not sure I believe that one."

He lets out a short laugh. "You and me both. I'm still having a hard time believing any of this," he admits, gesturing to the room around him. "Henry – he left us a key to this place. It's a bunker that was used by the Men of Letters, this secret society that died out in 1958."

"Right," you muse. "And you two are legacies, or something? Because hunting wasn't taxing enough."

"That's the thing," he says, "the Men of Letters were a hunting organization, technically. They tracked monsters and gave the cases to their team of hunters, and that's the way it worked for a long time. Until Abaddon."

"The demon who can't be killed by the demon knife," you recall what they told you.

"And who is now safely buried," he adds. "In pieces."

You nod. "Best news I've heard all week."

"Well, you haven't even the best part of this place," he says, leading you by the shoulder to the opposite end of the room, where it opens into an even larger, longer room.

The sight of it brings you to a halt. The walls on either side, extending further than any room you could have imagines, are lined with shelves upon shelves of books. Lore books, of all sizes. Some of them, you have seen before at Bobby's, but most of them bear unfamiliar titles in English and Latin and Greek and even some languages you don't know. On one of the rectangular tables that go down the center of the library, there are books open, papers scattered around them.

The amount of information that must be contained in this room alone is enough to overwhelm you. The thought that this room gave you the capacity to defeat anything that comes your way makes you want to cry.

You hear Sam chuckle next to you, and realize that you must have been standing in the entryway, gaping, for a solid minute.

"I'm gonna check on Dean," he says, taking off back toward the main room and down a hallway.

You take a minute with the books, running your fingertips across the spines of the one nearest to you, before heading in the direction Sam took, following the boys' voices until you reach an open door.

This must be Dean's room. There are shotguns and blades lining the walls and an assortment of crosses, stakes, and other hunting supplies on the mantle above a queen-size bed with a blanket neatly folded over and a single pillow resting at the head.

"Nice of you to finally haul ass back here," Dean jokes. "I was just about to fix us some grub. You gonna hurry up and choose a room or what?"

He gives you a peck on the cheek as he passes you, not noticing the shock on your face.

"I... get a r-room?" you stammer.

He turns back to you. "Uh, yeah," he says, as if it's the most obvious thing, before turning back in the direction of what must be a kitchen.

You look to Sam in disbelief, but he shoots you an encouraging smile.

"Come on," he prompts, leading you outside. Only a short way down, across the hall, is another open door, leading to a dark, seemingly emptier room. Sam's, you think.

He walks backward, arms open and facing you, down the hallway. "Take your pick."

You open a door near to each of theirs and click on a lamp.

There is a faint dusty scent, but it looks to be incredibly well-preserved for having not been used in over fifty years. Its layout and furniture are almost identical to Dean's; there are even some office supplies on the desk and sheets on the bed.

You take another step inside. It feels like home. Like the place you shared with Charlie, and your old room at Bobby's, but also like your home from before you met Bobby, before you ever encountered anything supernatural. You can't remember the last time you thought about your life from before. You haven't had any need to, and the memories have long faded beyond recognition anyway.

It's hard to believe that, after making peace with your '72 Marquis being the only home you would know for whatever is left of your life, you have been given this corner of the world – somewhere you could feel safe, a place you could come back to and feel at home.

You drop your bag onto the bed, deciding to hold off on unpacking until later. Instead, you walk back out to the library, where you find Sam again, hunched over the books and papers you noticed on the table earlier.

"Keeping busy?" you tease, taking a seat across from him.

"Uh, just..." he starts, distractedly, eyes still glued to the pages, "going through the Letters' archives. Trying to put together all the info they have in here, updating some of it."

"Need a hand?" you offer.

He looks up at you now. "Yeah, that'd be great, actually," he says. "I've been having a hard time with some of these –" From one of several small stacks on the table around him, he plucks a book, bound in brown leather and filled with Latin text printed on yellowing pages.

"I mean, I took Latin in college," he continues, "but all of this is so complex. And I remembered that you're fluent, right?"

"Mm hmm," you mumble, thinking back to those countless long nights at Bobby's, before you started hunting, spending hours trying to decipher the ancient texts before you were able to understand it almost as well as you could read English.

"Think you could flip through it, just so one of us knows what's going on?" he asks, but you are already scanning the first few pages, noting the subject and the brief introduction before delving into the treatise.

The two of you sit across from each other, lost in the words, until Dean walks in, bearing three plates of food.

"Whatchya reading?" he asks.

"Sort of, uh, everything," Sam responds.

"Oh, good," Dean comments. "Somebody's going to have to dig through all this and it ain't gonna be me."

You eye the burger he set in front of you. "You cook?"

"We have a real kitchen now," he informs you.

"I didn't think you knew what a kitchen was," Sam mutters.

Dean pauses a beat. "I'm nesting, okay?" he defends. "Eat."

He watches intently as you and Sam obey, each of you getting ahold of the sandwich and taking a bite.

It doesn't drip with oil and the lettuce isn't soggy, like the cheap diner stuff. The bun is crisp, the meat cooked to a perfect medium rare. It's the best thing you've eaten in... you can't remember when.

Dean has raised his own burger to his lips when a ringing sound emits from his pocket. With an annoyed look, he puts down the food and opens his cell phone.

He sits up straight immediately after answering. "What?" he almost shouts. "Kevin?"

"What is it? What's wrong?" you say.

You visited Kevin once since you learned he was staying on Garth's house boat in Missouri. He was trying to decipher this demon tablet, and you could tell it was taking a lot out of him. He insisted that this was the way he could get back to his mom, to his life, away from all of this. You couldn't blame him, and you wanted that demon tablet translated as much as anyone. Maybe you should have tried harder to convince him to slow down. Maybe you should have checked in on him more often, paid more attention.

"It could be nothing," Dean says, though he looks disturbed. "Why don't you lay low here for a while? Sam and I'll head down there and see what's up, and we'll call if we need you."

You want to argue, but you doubt it will get anywhere. And he could be right. It could be nothing.

Sam gives you a wave goodbye and is about to follow his brother out of the room before thinking again, turning back to grab his plate, then continuing on his way.

• • • • • • • • • • • •

You spend the next few hours continuing with the book, even finding sheets of paper to take notes – roughly translated summaries should the boys need them if you aren't around. After meeting the back cover, you tackle another book, glancing at the clock often.

Six hours later, to the minute, it's dark out. They would have gotten there a couple of hours ago, even earlier with Dean behind the wheel. Images of everything that could have gone wrong flash through your mind, and you have to stand and force yourself to clear them away.

Not obsessed, you tell yourself, dialing Dean's number. Just concerned.

After the third ring, you think he might not pick up, and you start to pace the width of the room.

"Yeah," you hear over the phone's speaker.

"Dean," you breathe, relief flooding through to your voice. "Talk to me. What's going on?"

"Other than puke and Bible babble," he says, "not much. But we did get a case out of it."

"Yeah?" you say. "Anything I can do?"

"No, no," he replies, a little too quickly, a little too certain. "It's a, uh– it's a small one."

No matter how close the two of you have grown over the years, Dean has always been somewhat of a mystery to you. He was difficult to read sometimes. But now, you know, without a doubt, he is lying.

"Try again, Winchester."

A static-y rush of air sounds as he exhales a sigh, then he lets a moment pass before saying, "It's a demon case."

You are confused at first. "Dean, I can help with a–"

But then you realize. It's not what you can do, or what you think you can do. Weeks ago, he convinced you to keep hunting when you felt like this thing, whatever is happening in you, was clouding your judgement. Maybe what he said didn't extend to the very thing you could be turning into.

They don't trust you to do what you need to do as a hunter, and there's nothing you can say to overcome that, not now.

"Okay," you murmur, though you feel like you were just kicked in the stomach. "Well, I guess I'll see you two when you get back."

"Yeah, we'll see you," he says.

"Be safe out there," you rush to get the words out, but the call has already ended.

All that is left for you to do is lean back against the edge of the table as you recover from the blow.

It was always a possibility, you thought, that they weren't entirely okay with the Hell thing. You certainly aren't. And you can't blame them, either. In fact, you completely understand. But that doesn't make it sting any less.

You turn back to the book, only to find you can't focus on a single word. Instead, you get up to walk around and, in one corner of the library, realize that you have wandered into a devil's trap.

Your hands raise themselves, as if someone has aimed a gun at your head, trying to stay inside of it. You have never been caught in one before, but it occurs to you that it might be something that happens over time.

You close your eyes and take a step out, relieved and almost surprised when your foot is met with the ground and not an invisible barrier. You let out the breath you didn't realize you have been holding, and continue on the stroll, ending up in the kitchen.

The industrial-style stainless steel prep table gleams under the kitchen's fluorescent lights. Some of the dishes left over from lunch are scattered on the counter, so you wash them in the sink.

The bed is comfortable, more so than any motel bed you have encountered, though you spend the night drifting in and out of sleep, constantly grabbing your phone from the nightstand and checking it. Each time, an empty screen is all that greets you.

"Just a demon," you whisper to yourself. "They know what they're doing."

Once the sun has risen, you leap out of bed.

The boys have only been living here for a couple of weeks, and they have never had any kind of permanent home, not since Sam was a newborn. They wouldn't know how to keep a place, especially a place as massive as the bunker.

You start by cleaning. Everything. The places that the boys have used since they started living here – the kitchen, library, each of their rooms – are clean enough, but the rest of the place is still blanketed with fifty years' worth of dust.

Although there is not a bug to be seen, you find yourself swiping cobwebs out of obscure corners, left by the critters who have undoubtedly long expired.

You find cleaning supplies under one of the bathroom sinks and work until sweat forms on your brow, until you need a drink, until nightfall.

Still no call. No heavy footfalls trudging through the door. No deep voices exchanging quick banter. Not even the wind reaches the inside of the bunker.

By the next morning, you can't stand the emptiness. You climb in your car, still parked out front, and drive.

• • • • • • • • • • • •

The sunlight casts a distorted reflection on the water of the harbor and warms the cool February air. Soft splashing sounds and distant, indistinct voices echo in your ears as you creep onto the deck of the boat with the name Fizzles' Folly painted on its rear.

You knock on the rusty metal door and, seconds later, it opens with a creak.

You are met with a thorough douse of holy water. When you saw what was coming, you half expected it to burn, but it doesn't. It only drips into your eyes and down your shirt.

"(Y/N)?" Kevin says, his voice startled.

You swipe the water away from your eyes before opening them again. "Uh huh," you sigh.

He ushers you inside and shuts the door behind you. "Don't get me wrong – it's good to see you," he says, a nervous look on his face, "but what are you doing here?"

It's a good question. What are you doing here? Making sure he's okay? Getting info on the boys? Both?

"Just..." you search for the words, looking around the dingy room before turning back to him, "checking in, I guess."

"Oh," he says, taking a seat at the table covered in layers of books and notes and, above all of it, half of the demon tablet.

"How've you been, Kev?" you ask, meeting him at eye level.

He looks better than he did when you saw him last. Dark circles still peek out from under his eyes, but he's showered and shaven, and even has some color in his face. You suspect the boys' visit had something to do with it, but it's something, at least.

"I really want to finish this," he admits, running his fingers through his hair.

You shoot him a sympathetic look, but your eyes catch on something else on the table. Pill bottles, two of them side by side. You read the labels and frown.

"Kev, I know you want to get this done," you say, "but don't you think you should –"

"Slow down?" he suggests. "No time. We're so close already."

"What have you got?"

"Sam and Dean didn't tell you?" he asks in a disbelieving tone.

You think back to your conversation with Dean. "You mean that demon hunt they're on?"

"What?" he says, confusion in his voice. "No. I mean the first trial."

"'Trial'?" you repeat.

"From the tablet?" he tries. "For closing the gates of Hell?"

You can only manage to stare at him blankly, mind spinning. "You found out how to close the gates?"

"There are three trials that someone has to go through," he explains. "God made it so that once you pass all three, you can say a few words of Enochian and slam the gates. I've only been able to work out one of them so far – they've got to kill a hound of Hell and bathe in its blood."

"'They'?" you repeat.

"Sam and Dean," he says. "Well, one of them, anyway."

"Hunting a hellhound?" you exclaim. "That's what they're doing right now?"

He nods, and shifts some papers around, one of which catches your eye.

"Whosoever chooses to undertake these tasks," you read, "should fear not danger, nor death, nor... nor what?"

"A word I think means getting your spine ripped out through your mouth for all eternity," he states.

You can't stop yourself from grimacing at the thought, and you realize what it means. The trials will take a lot out of the person who takes them on, maybe even their life. And either one of your boys would be rushing to take them on if it meant sending all demons back to Hell forever.

"Where are they?" you demand.

He gives you a look, like he's unsure whether he should tell you.

"Kevin," you press, with conviction now, enunciating each word. "Do you know?"

He eyes you a second more before his resolve seems to break under your hard gaze.

"On a farm," he says, "somewhere in Shoshone, Idaho."

"Idaho?" you exclaim. "Are you kidding me? That's three states away."

He says nothing, only stifles a yawn.

You sigh, trying to calm your nerves for a moment. "Look, just promise me you'll lay off the pills, and the caffeine," you say, gesturing to his coffee cup on the table, "and get some rest, okay?"

He looks up at you. "I promise," he says.

And you're out the door.

• • • • • • • • • • • •

You floor the gas pedal the entire way there, crossing into Idaho in record time. You find the farm easily once you reach the small town, even hidden under the veil of the darkness of sometime past midnight.

There was never a demon case. Dean knew that you would do the math, that you would be forced to wonder what slamming the gates of Hell would mean for you.

Your anger at them for lying to you and the sting of their distrust dull to an ambiguous ache as you struggle to wrap your mind around anything but trying to keep your boys from getting themselves killed.

Your call rolls to a stop on the damp pavement outside the nearest building you can find – a well-lit barn in better condition than you would think for the size of the town, filled with horses.

You jog around the barn until you find a tall, stern-looking woman with long brown hair and jeans who is putting a rake away into a shed in the back. She notices you, and you feel flustered, realizing what you have to ask of a complete stranger.

"Have you, uh... have you seen two guys – ridiculously tall," you begin, hearing the desperation in your own voice, "one of them has long –"

"That way," she says, pointing.

Behind you is a large, house-like structure about a hundred yards away.

"Second door on the left," she informs you.

You shout thanks to her as you turn away, sprinting in the direction she pointed until you reach the double wooden doors, which the wind slides open before you arrive. You note that the wind is not particularly strong tonight, but chalk it up to the unlocked door.

By the time you reach the second door, you are out of breath, your heart pounding, and you have broken a sweat, even in the cool nighttime air. You turn the brass knob and swing the door open.

You see Dean first, standing at the corner of a table, clutching his side, casting an uneasy eye on a kneeling figure before him.

"Sam!" you yell, sliding to him on your knees, unable to catch your breath.

He has one arm out in front of him for balance, breathing heavily. The front of his light grey shirt is stained with a bluish black down the center.

They've got to kill a hound of Hell and bathe in its blood, Kevin said.

You reach out a hand to brush away his hair so you can see his face. His cheeks are pale as he looks up at you, his eyes wide in surprise, but he's conscious and the pain he felt seems to have subsided.

"I'm good," he whispers, his voice unsteady and weak, and stands.

You rise with him, your nervous eyes following him. He looks to Dean, who wears an expression he reserves for Sam, for when he's in danger.

"I'm good," Sam repeats. "I'm okay. I can do this."

The worry doesn't leave Dean's eyes, though Sam gives you both a reassuring nod.

"Great," you snap, sounding more abrasive than you intended. "Then you can also tell me what the hell you two were thinking."

They give each other a sort of panicked look, not sure how to tell you what you've been dreading hearing them say.

"We knew you would try to stop us," Dean says.

His words are a punch to the gut, but you are so angry with them, with yourself, that you continue, your voice trembling with rage. Your eyes sting with tears, but you ignore them.

"How could you think if I have a close enough bond to Hell to get sent there when those gates slam, I would want to be anywhere near Earth?"

You swipe at the fallen tears on your cheeks with the back of your fists.

"We didn't think that," Sam's eyes are at his feet as he says it.

"Damn it, (Y/N), you would have tried to stop us," Dean interjects. "You would have done anything – you would have taken on the trials yourself – before you let either of us do it, and we weren't about to let that happen."

"Well, why the hell not?" you hiss.

"Because all you do is try to protect us," Sam says, his voice a soft contrast to yours and Dean's biting tones, giving you the look that makes you believe anything he says. "And because we care about you, (Y/N)."

"And you think I want to do this – any of this – without you both?"

Once you say the words, the whole room seems to realize the impasse you have reached, each unable to live without each other, each willing to die before seeing another hurt.

You unclench your fists and draw in a deep, shaky breath, feeling yourself relax a bit.

All along, their mistrust in you was because they knew you well enough to know that you would do anything to keep them safe. Maybe they were right to keep it from you, you think absently. Shutting down Hell was for the good of the entire world, and the only thing you can think is what it will cost your family, what it will cost Sam.

"So, i-it wasn't because..."

Dean shakes his head. They, at least, have faith in you not to go dark side yet, even if you don't.

"So, what happens now?" you ask, turning to Sam. Some color has returned to his cheeks and he doesn't seem to be in pain.

"I guess we wait for Kevin to translate the next trial," he says. "And if it all goes our way, I shut the gates and we'll never have to see a pair of black eyes again."

You wonder when things like this ever go your way, but you don't mention your doubt. Only meet Sam's eyes, then Dean's, in a silent exchange of comfort.

#Supernatural #SupernaturalxReader #Supernatural fanfic #fanfiction #Spn #Spn fanfic #Spn reader insert #series #A Supernatural x Reader Story #writing is hard

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magatama-yagami · 8 years ago

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*NOTICE: Reasons for innactivity

To all my commissioners and traders.

Some may or may not notice my lack of contact with you in the past 10 to 15 days while i get high activity in places like Instagram and Twitter. Please bare with me as i explain wihat is going on.

"What are you working on right now?/Where's my commission?" I am currently working on a batch of ilustrations for a artbook to which i was invited as well as in other pending projects from real life, this doesn't mean that i'm not working on the commissions and trades i have yet to release. To keep clear on what am i currently working, i'll post here my to do list in a simple (non name reveal) format.

Commissions, total 15 @IG 5 2 YCH, 2 regulars, 1 custom phisical commission/printing

@DA 2 both regulars

@FA 2 (these are somewhat difficult. how do you even furry? ;;;;) 1 YCH 1 regular

@TH 6 6 regulars

Wait List I have 8 people on wait list

Trades x3 Trades for characters at DA &TH are one of my queacknesses to which i owe 3 of all the ones i am still looking. These are on hold until i finish with commissions since march the 4th this present year.

This is the list of thing i have to do since mid february this year and i am really greathful to all my commissioners whom had commissioned me and had been so patient. I am still have to answer various messages in this site and others where i will be posting this letter. Please mind I slowed down my production because of the quantity of work i have to do for the artbook project since it has a deadline i have to meet for this april 20.

"Still.. where is my commission?" As i said before i am still working on commissions and most of them will be gradually uploaded and for public view at Instagram as well as linked in Twitter after the commissioners approval. The most recent upload on Instagram are the commissions and trades i completed, either in the past weeks or in the last two or three days, mostly to keep activity in my Instagram page. If you had commissioned me in the last months, i beg for your patience since i work from commission to commission depending on how it feels to me.

"So, that's what takes you so long to complete a commission in first place?" No, you see, I will get a little personal here. I use glasses, and i need way to much focus and the lenses, which makes my eyes get tired even more faster than say someone with no need for glasses. It gets to the pont where i get blurry vision even with the glasses on and i have to stop working for say four hours to get my vision back. sometimes is even more time or i simple have to stop working completly for the day, some had requested their commissions with a rushed timeframe from one to two days for characters that hasn't been described in a good way or even characters with extreme amount of detail, and that's why i decline those kind of commissions, I don't like to rush over commissions, specially because i had commissioned people in the past that rushed their work just to "have the deal done" in like and hour on a picture that was not even as good quality as the ones used as examples on their commission sheet, i know how it feels to be honest. This means that i don't work in a "first come, first served" kind of way, but it helps me out to detect errors on the pieces once i left them for one or two days to rest. I know it's a bother to have to wait but please, understand, i want to give the best of me for what i got from your part. I'll try to update everyone with their respective commission query.

"Then, if you have so much work, why do you keep accepting commissions if you work so slow?" This might sound sarcastic but i still need to eat and pay my bills. I do have a job, which is halftime because of my studies. It's doesn't give me the income i need for a normal daily basis of the week, let alone the bills and for so, commissions income is what helps me stay standing. I also get a little amount of donations via Ko-fi to which im really thankful but it is also quiet... ummm... low..

Anyways, thank you very much for reading and to all my commissioners, i thank you really much for your patience and i apologise for being so slow.

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pbandjesse · 8 years ago

Photo

I'm having some crazy allergy eyes for like the last half hour and it sucks. I'm waiting for my meds to kick in because my eye is swelling shut. I have a cold compress on it but still. ugh. It extra sucks because sweetP keeps coming over to try to cuddle me and I have to put him on the floor so he’s not in my face. I'm sorry baby.

I handed in my final draft of my thesis to my LA professor. I hope they get it back to me quickly but I'm pretty nervous about Damon’s feedback. I hope its not to harsh.

Todays been really nice though. I slept half okay. But I was pretty exhausted when I woke up. I didn’t eat breakfast and I forgot my water bottle. I tried the new lip stain I got and I like it but I like it as a base under the other colors I have.

I got to work and did some cleaning and organizing. Anders had me help replace the measuring tape on the table saw which was weirdly stressful. It was a fairly tame morning for a bit, but all of a sudden it got wild.

But before that me and Don did my casting for my little house. It was really neat to see the little casting happen and I really enjoyed that. I finally got to use the bronze I bought when I was in my undergrad program.

Don left to go pick up the sharpened bandsaw blades and that’s when everything got busy. People came in to have a meeting with Don and he wasn’t there. And then there were 3D printing problems. And students needed help with angle grinders. And then Sherry needed help with her Soovac piece. And it was just a lot. And I was a little bitter that Anders was still playing with the table saw and wasn’t helping me. But I was able to relegate some stuff to him even if he made fun of me because it was all stuff that was just to hard for me to open or change because I'm weak. Whatever it was still fun. Students kept apologizing for asking for help though and I didn’t like that. I want to help them! There’s just some stuff I have trouble with.

Michaela came in to break out her bronze from yesterday and mine was cool enough to break out as well. So I showed her how to hit it to get the shell off. Her piece came out great! Mine had some issues. The rings didn’t cast, but that’s okay. The house didn’t cast in places and had a weird texture in places. But!!! The door knob and the picture frames and all the furniture did cast! I'm thrilled. I sandblasted it and it just was wonderful. I helped some of my students sand blast their pieces as well but they kept saying it wasn’t doing it right? So I asked Don and he said it was fine. An d I didn’t have a problem. But we think they think the sand blaster polishes and that’s not what it does so its problem just some confusion.

I got some lunch and a huge fancy luncheon was happening up stairs and I was covered in saw dust. But its fine. I got my lunch and spent the rest of the day helping students and chatting with Don. It was a good day.

I headed to my studio and photographed the pieces in my paper I wrote about. I helped Sherry punch some holes in one of her sandwich books for the Soovac show. And then I went to edit the photos into the paper. I sent it off and its out of my hands for a few days.

I stayed there in the studios for a few hours to help critique Shiraz and Cole’s thesis projects. They are film makers so it takes a little time. Shiraz’s project is totally different then what it was before because her documentary subject backed out. But I really like the new project. Cole’s was really funny and a lot of fun. I noticed a continuity error and he got mad that I noticed but it was a lot of fun with my classmates. We had some disagreements about stuff but in a good way and I am glad I stayed to help.

I spent the next 45 minutes moving boxes and dioramas onto the stage. Don is going to come over on Friday and help me out and look over it so I want as much material there as I can. But it is also midprogram reviews this week so I can only be in there after noon. And I get so tired after work. But I'm trying my best. Once I was to tired to keep going I headed home. I did laundry and had dinner. I was going to clean but instead I organized my sheets and pillowcases. Folded everything all nice.

Now I'm just chilling. My eyes aren’t so swollen anymore so I think my medicine is working. I am going to read for a bit now. Tomorrow I'm going to clean in the morning and then its my freshmens’ class where we will work on wood and bronze. Its going to be a very busy day.

I hope you all have a good night!

#ootd #bronze #casting #foundry #in progress #sculpture #miniature #doll house #work #good day #wensday

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reviewape-blog · 6 years ago

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Become a Home-Based Travel Agent — Travel Agent Success

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oh-so-scenarios · 8 years ago

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Not A Bad Thing ~ Part Seven

Fairy-tale & AU Series Index

Previous Part || Next Part

Word Count: 5.4K

Errors. Please excuse and ignore them.

A/N: Idk how i feel about this part, but I hope you like it. Expect mostly backstories and flashbacks in the coming parts. :)

{Update days: Tuesdays, Thursday or Saturdays}

I strolled into the office of my photography company. I was expecting to see Jang Mi there as always, seeing as I was running late. My mind was all over the place as I tried to set my head straight. Today was our last day working with EXO Inc. This project that has stretched over a span of weeks has finally come to an end.

It’s only been 2 months since Sehun marked me, and I’m already sensing a difference between us. It’s a good one, honestly. We’ve grown closer as friends. It feels like I’m actually having a friendship with Sehun.

He really doesn’t hold back anymore. The random PDA in the office still shocks the employees. They are so used to seeing a stuffy, stiff-faced Mr. Oh. I wasn’t used to how open he was now being, but it wasn’t bothering me either. It’s not too much PDA. He would hold my hand, whisper something in my ear or put an arm around my waist.

Some would say it’s not appropriate for a work setting, but Sehun didn’t care much.

I strolled into the office, staring down at my phone as I stomped towards my desk. My movements came to a stop when I noticed something out the corner of my eyes. I finally looked up from my cell phone screen to see a beautiful bouquet of red roses in a glass vase. My phone nearly dropped out my hand as I stared in awe.

“Pretty right?” Jang Mi muttered from her desk, breaking my attention from the flowers. All I could do was stare back at her with a vacant look.

“It was delivered here less than 10 minutes ago.” She paused, “It’s said that there are 51 roses in that bouquet.”

I looked back at the roses and raised an eyebrow, “51? What an odd number.” I started walking towards the big bouquet which sat on my desk. Where am I going to put it? I set my bag on my chair and stared at the arrangement, hoping to figure out a plan of some kind.

“I looked it up and 51 roses means ‘you’re the only thing on my mind’. Isn’t that sweet?” She chimed clapping her hands together.

I didn’t react to her words, rather keep my gaze on the roses. I rubbed the thin petals of one of the flowers and the corner of my lips turned up into a small smile. I finally noticed a small card hidden within the many roses. I reached in and grabbed it reading the words written on it in black ink.

Have you fallen head over heels for me yet?

I couldn’t help but chuckle and shake my head at his silliness. I put the small card into the pocket of my dress pants before looking at the roses again.

“What’s the memo for today?” I muttered to finally spinning around to look at her.

“Well, we are going to look over the final draft of the project before it is released. Everything was set together to showcase the caring personalities of all the CEOs.” She stated. I watched as she spun around in the spinning chairs and grabbed a flash drive off her desk.

“You gave me the flash drive for it a few days ago. Don’t you remember?” She raised an eyebrow at me, snickering slightly.

I stared up at the ceiling, mouth agape.

“Oh right!” I chimed, smiling at her.

Jang Mi rolled her eyes at me, “Your head is in the clouds and you’re practically glowing! Makes me want to fall in love.”

She pouted before getting up from her chair. She began to gather the sheets and folders for the final overview of the project. I did the same, ignoring her words. We quickly gathered everything before heading to the corporate building.

Jang Mi was driving this time, so I sat in the passenger's seat, jamming to the songs that played on the radio. My eyes stayed trained on the sky, skimming over the houses and people we passed.

I was so lost in the scenery that the music was beginning to fade as background noise. My eyes followed some things as we passed them, making them visible for a second before becoming a passing blur once again.

“Y/N?” Jang Mi called out.

I looked over at her, only to be met with the profile of her face. Her eyes stuck on the road in front of us and it seemed that the speed of the car slowed for a moment.

“I made some minor changes to the project.” She mentions, “It’s not a big deal. There were some pictures that were left out. There weren’t many pictures from candid shots we took last week.”

I didn’t answer right away, “You made some changes? Like what, you added some pictures?”

She nodded meekly and bit her lip nervously, “There were some great shots that really needed to be in there. The spread will like them! I know they will, so I added them.”

“Okay.” Was all I stated. I really hope she didn’t shift things around too much. I want to be angry, but Jang Mi always does such a great job. I moved my eyes back to the window and sighed feeling like I was coming down from the romantic high that the roses caused.

“Tell me next time,” I muttered simply. Though I wasn’t looking at her, I knew she nodded, like she always does. With that same strained smile on her lips.

We entered the building gaining small smiles from those around us. They were now familiar with us and everyone was a lot kinder. I think it’s because of my relationship with Sehun. We proceed into the elevator, pressing the button to get to the needed floor.

“Jang Mi.” I spoke softly, “Since you added some photos, you’ll be able to do the presentation right? I wasn’t able to see the changes so I won’t be able to tie it together.”

She showed me a small smile before nodding, “Okay.”

I looked back at my reflection in the elevator doors. I looked tired, it was clear on my face. It’s expected after completing such a big project. All these photos we took will be spread throughout the world. Some of the photos will be sent to magazines for interviews with the CEO’s, other will be on websites and even TV.

I wasn’t fully aware of the pressure that sat on our shoulders till we were nearing the end. The doors opened and we made our way down the long hallway, past the small front desk and to the meeting room, which had its door wide open.

I could see some figure in there moving about and talking. I recognized the back of Yixing right away as he held a phone up to his ear. I handed the few folders I had to Jang Mi before giving her space to walk in ahead of me. I quietly followed behind her as the men in the room turned their attention to us.

We all greeted each other, as my eyes darted around the room to meet Sehun’s. I bowed, a smile on my lips. He returned the gesture.

“Aaww, why are you two being so formal?” Baekhyun whined from his seat at the conference table. Sehun scoffed at the man’s reaction and rolled his eyes.

“I know right, I was expecting a passionate kiss or something,” Jongin added, pulling up a chair and taking a seat beside Baekhyun.

“It’s called by professional” Sehun murmured, “Why would I do such things at the office?”

I held in my laughter as Sehun also walked to the conference table, pulling up a chair. After a few moments, Yixing was the only one still standing.

He still stood on the phone. I think he was speaking to his mate and the conversation sounded intense. I averted my attention to Jang Mi who began to set up everything. They already had a projector and laptop ready.

“Aren’t you doing the presentation?” Sehun asked as I took the seat beside him. I shook my head, turning my attention to the front.

“Nah, Jang Mi is gonna hold it down,” I answered softly. Once everyone was seated it was a matter of waiting for Jang Mi to set up. The lights in the room soon dimmed as the power point presentation was up on the screen. I looked on as Jang Mi began the presentation.

The changes she made were small, but I can see that they were for the better. The slight anger I was feeling, has diminished. I was flipping through some paperwork that went along with the presentation when I felt a hand on my knee. My movements stopped, and my eyes lost focus of the words printed in front of me.

I turned my attention to Sehun who sat beside me with a blank facial expression. He didn’t give away anything, and though my eyes were on him, he refused to meet my gaze. I simply looked back at the presentation, ignoring the pounding of my heart in my ears.

I left out a strained sigh before leaning back in my seat so I could peek at his hand resting on my knees. I scrunched my face up before moving my attention to the papers in front of me.

“So when we did some research,” Jang Mi continued, “It seems that Mr. Oh’s reputation is the harshest.” I strained smile meeting her lips.

Sehun, whose expression was static, gawked in surprise.

“Me? Why?” He questioned, but his hand didn’t leave my knee.

“Well um….” Jang Mi hesitated to speak, “Your face is kind of scary.”

I tried to hold in my laughter, while the other businessmen in the room began to chuckle openly causing me to join in with the laughter.

Sehun looked at me and almost glared, “My face is scary?”

I covered my mouth as I giggled, shaking my head. I swallowed my laughter, trying to comfort him.

I placed a hand over his that rested on my lap, “It’s not that your face is scary, it’s just that when you’re not smiling...you’re intimidating.”

I tried to speak as gently as I could, almost pouting as I explained. As I spoke those words, Chanyeol began to holler with laughter.

“You know it’s the truth when your girlfriend is saying it.” He barked, looking over at Baekhyun to join in his laughter. My eyes almost popped out of my head at the word ‘girlfriend’. Though the word didn’t seem to affect anyone else in that way.

“So I made a few changes, making sure to incorporate pictures of you smiling, a genuine smile at that.” Jang Mi said before pressing a button to the next slide. I gasped at the pictures that were on the slide. This must have been one of the big changes she made.

There were at least six pictures and one of them was from the Business Banquet where Sehun first strolled back into my life. Though it was clearly me standing there, all you could see was my back, and a wide grinning Sehun was completely visible in the photo.

When did she take this picture? Other photos were from around the office, though in most of them my face wasn’t visible.

“What’s all this?” I asked, my voice sounding a bit on edge.

Jang Mi scratched her head, “All the photos of Mr. Oh smiling nicely had you in them.” She muttered sounding almost embarrassed. When I had no reply to her words, she went on.

“So I wanted to send these pictures to some magazines, so they could maybe make a piece on you. It’s not going to be anything serious, just one of those silly ‘Who has the best smile’ clips. It may seem silly, but I believe it could do wonders.” She explained.

“I think that’s a good idea.” Yixing suddenly chimed in, looking through some paperwork in front of him.

“If anything, I think this is a good change of image. Sehun has softened up since Y/N has shown up. So I’m sure it’ll draw interest. I mean people will wonder who the female in the pictures is.” Junmyeon added.

“Yes.” Jang Mi’s eyebrows were raised up with joy in her mind, It seems that Junmyeon hit the mark.

“That could bring in more wanted attention, because it seems that although Mr. Oh is seen as the most serious of all the CEO’s he’s also the most desired by women. Think of an idol or an actor with all their fans. Yet, his fans aren’t as intense. So I was thinking to add a lighter energy around Mr. Oh we could play off his sudden change in demeanor due to Y/N.”

My face scrunched up at her words. What kind of plan is this? She didn’t discuss this with me at all. Though the other people in the room were liking her idea.

“I think it’s interesting,” Minseok voiced, “I could become one of those, he was cold till she came along and changed everything. They could become one of those couples the public keeps their eye on while changing the image of the CEOs around EXO.”

“Yes, I believe this could draw attention to both the company and also stir up interest in the personalities of the CEOs. If you are all okay with the growing interest in your personal lives.” She stated.

There was a collection of agreements in the air, while Sehun sat there with his eyes on me. His grip on my knee tightened and I gritted my teeth.

“There is one problem.” I voiced, turning my angry eyes to Jang Mi, whose proud expression dropped to the floor.

“I did not agree to this,” I spoke. What kind of bullshit is this? I don’t want to be a part of the public eye? If she had a plan like this, why didn’t she come to me for it? We’re just supposed to be taking pictures! Not coming up with some type of publicity scheme!

“I’m sorry but if these are the changes you made to the presentation then get rid of them. You told me you made minor changes! Not came up with a whole plan that involves me! You didn’t even ask my permission. So sorry, no I’m not going to let this happen.” I stated.

“Come on Y/N! This is such a cool plan!” Baekhyun added, a pout on his lips.

“Cool or not, I don’t want any part of it. Onto the next slide please.” My tone harsher than intended. I could see Jang Mi a bit thrown back by my anger, but what did she expect.

The last thing I want is my name blasted everywhere.

“Okay, onto the next slide.” Jang Mi’s voice was less confident this time around. I watched the rest of the presentation with my anger burning up my eyes. My face began to grow hot and I’m sure my facial expression wasn’t too welcoming.

As the presentation came to a close everyone clapped, and Jang Mi showed a hesitant smile while I stared on blankly. I am not amused. Everyone began to pack up to leave, so I stood up and gathered my things. I picked up all the files I had into my folder, keeping my eyes down.

“Calm down,” Sehun spoke, standing up from his seat beside me. I ignored his words and continued to back up.

I expected him to say something else, but it was a small voice that rang through the air. Though most of the other CEOs left to attend to further business, Junmyeon and Jongin were lingering around the door. They were watching the exchange that was proceeding.

“Y/N?” Jang Mi spoke nervously. I closed my eyes and exhaled through my nose. I set the folder down on the shiny wooden table and turned to look at her. I could tell by how red her face was turning, that she felt bad. Honestly, most people would say this isn’t a big deal, but the fact that a whole plan for my project and presentation was changed without my knowledge, is burning away at me.

“I’m sorry. I did all this without even consulting you. I went behind your back and put this in the presentation which was so wrong of me. I don’t know why, but I thought this would be a sort of surprise. In my mind, it was a good plan.” She explained, scratching the back of her head nervously. She began to fidget while I stood there looking at her.

“I understand where you were coming from, but I don’t like surprises. They throw me off my game. Next time come to me first, exceptionally when the plan involves my own private life.” My voice was dull, lacking any real emotion. I just wanted to get out of here.

“Don’t hate me.” She almost whimpered.

I groaned, rolling my eyes, “You know I can’t hate you.”

I turned around on my heels, swiping up the files in my hands before smiling at Sehun. Though my smile felt off, the tension from the previous situation still weighing on my mood.

I walked past Sehun, ready to head back to the office. Junmyeon and Jongin still stood by the door.

“I understand that you want your privacy. That’s understandable.” Jongin said, he and Junmyeon walking beside me when I walked out the room. Sehun trailed behind us while Jang Mi packed up the presentation.

“You don’t want the world to know all your business,” Junmyeon added quickly.

“But,” Jongin almost sang the word, “Y/N, what about us?”

I stopped walking and they followed suit, “What do you mean?”

“You’re a private person we get that, but why are you so private with us? Why are you so private with Sehun? Even your assistant says she doesn’t know much about you.”

My brows furrowed. How much about myself can I really reveal? The anxiety? The bullying? The moving countries to escape the bullying?

I stared at Jongin’s welcoming smile and almost felt guilty. They are reaching to me with open arms, not only Sehun but his brothers and their mates, but I keep pushing them off.

I cast my gaze down to my feet, sorrow washing over me.

An arm wrapped around my shoulders, and I pulling into someone’s side.

“Don’t you have another meeting?” Sehun’s calming voice resonated from beside me.

Junmyeon put a hand on Jongin’s shoulder, “We do have another meeting to go to.”

Smiling kindly at me, the two men turned their backs to me and walked off.

“What are your plans for today?” Sehun asked. I looked up at him and smiled.

“I’m just editing some headshots, but that’s really it. Wanna meet up for dinner? I’ll cook this time.” I offered.

“No, we can’t do that, because we’ll be having a party to celebrate the project coming to an end! It was supposed to be a surprise, but you made it clear that you don’t like those.” He gazed down at me.

I bit my lip, contemplating if this party was worth my time. It seems like him and his brothers find any reason to celebrate with a party.

We stood in the hallway while others businessmen and employees zoomed by without batting an eye.

“I guess I can make it,” I tried to sound cool resulting in a laugh from him.

“Let’s still meet up for lunch.”

I nodded, but a sudden thought entered my mind.

“Thank you for the roses. They’re lovely.” I chimed, kissing his cheek quickly. Sehun didn’t respond but brought his lips to mine briefly.

“What happened to keep it professional? Jang Mi uttered from behind us. I guess she packed everything. I slipped out of Sehun’s grasp. I said my goodbyes and head for the elevator while Jang Mi trailed behind. We didn’t speak during the ride back. It seemed like there was something she wanted to tell me, but I wasn’t paying her much mind.

“I can’t believe I let you drag me here,” I muttered. Though things weren’t completely smoothed over, Jang Mi and I were speaking like nothing happened. It only took a few hours of silence at the office. When I came back from lunch with Sehun, she was being her normal self.

So when I tried to skip the last minute party being held tonight, she wouldn’t let it happen. I’m thinking it’s going to be an office party, but low and behold it’s at the house of the CEOs. They like to party too much.

I sat at one of the tables in the second living room of the big mansion conversing with Sehun about the regular things. He held my hand on the table, his thumb occasionally rubbing circles on the back of my hand.

“You’re overdramatic.” I teased.

“You keep saying that, this is just the tip of the iceberg. If you want, I and really be over dramatic and show up with a white horse so we can ride off into the sunset.” He joked. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at him.

“I don’t like crazy romantic stuff like that. I don’t want to be a damsel in distress that needs to be saved.” I almost yelled. Music was booming around us as everyone danced and enjoyed the party.

“If anything I’m the damsel,” Sehun said, “You saved me.” His eyes were holding so much emotion, I felt my heart pounding in my ears. Such affection made me feel awkward so I tried to laugh it off.

I giggled and leaned back, “Why are you getting so intense all of a sudden?”

He raised an eyebrow at me, making an expected grin turn up on my lips. He grabbed bottom part of the chair I was sitting in, pulling me closer to him.

I bit my lip trying to keep from laughing as he stared at me.

He leaned forward bringing mouth up to my ear, “You play around too much.”

I winked at him, “What are you going to do about it, loverboy?”

He drew closer to me and our lips met in a sweet kiss. His arm wound around my waist, pulling into him. His welcoming warmth that I’ve come to adore so much. The kiss was short but left my lips tingling.

“You better quit it before your brothers start teasing us,” I informed.

“They’ll tease us with whatever chance they get.”

“Hey, lovebirds!” Eun Ji called as she approached us with a drink in hand. I can’t be sure if it’s alcohol, but she looked like she was in her right mind.

Eun Ji has softened up the past few weeks. She and I aren’t the best of friends, but her cold heart is slowly melting. We’ve shared a few laughs and are on good grounds.

“There are some people here,” She said. I thought she was talking to Sehun so I began to tune her out.

“Y/N!” She yelped, sounding irritated.

“Huh?”

“I said there are two people here looking for you,” she paused, “they said they’re your parents.”

I shot out of my seat, fear rushing through my system.

“What?” I tried to sound calm, “m-my parents?”

That doesn’t make sense! What would they be doing here? How they did get the address to the house? My eyes flickered to Sehun. He gazed back at me with fearful eyes, or maybe they held nervousness?

I let out a strained laugh, “That’s insane. They can’t be my parents.”

“Well, you totally share a resemblance with the lady at the door. She said they were coming to surprise you, and that Jang Mi planned all of it.”

It felt like the breath was knocked out of me. Jang Mi?! How long has she had something like this planned? My parents are going t cause such a mess, I can feel it.

I looked to Sehun who releases a nervous breath before running his fingers through his hair. He stood up from his seat, putting an encouraging hand on the small of my back.

“Let them in. I would love to meet your parents,” he wasn’t doing very well hiding the petrified expression on his face.

“I’ll tell the boys to settle down. I want to meet your parents in the right way.” He kissed my temple before heading over to Chanyeol who stood by the booming speakers.

On shaky legs, I walked past Eun Ji and out the living room. I tried to find Jang Mi before heading into the lobby near the walkway but failed to do so.

I peeked my head in first, eyes dotting around. Before I had time to figure out what was going on, I was pulled into a tight hug.

“Mom,” I said as she squeezed me tightly. I noticed my dad standing a few feet away, watching with a kind smile.

My mom finally lets go of me, looking on with tears in her eyes.

“Y/N,” She spoke softly, “It’s been so long! You’ve been so busy and haven’t been answering our calls!”

“What are you guys doing here?” I asked as my father walked over to pull me into a gentle hug.

“Well! Your assistant contacted us! She planned this months ago! Since your birthday is close, she wanted to surprise you! We’ll be here for a few weeks!” My father explained.

“My birthday is close?” My brows furrowed. Wow, it is isn’t it?

My mom sneered, “You forgot your birthday again? Y/N, that’s a clear sign that you’ve been working too hard.” My mom looked around the walkway of this big mansion before giving me cautious eyes.

“Is this the house of the guy you’ve been seeing? You assistant wouldn’t tell me much about him.”

I nodded meekly, “Y-yes. He lives here with his brothers. They’re right in that roo-”

“Well let’s go meet him!” My mom exclaimed grabbing my wrist as if to lead me, though she had no idea where to go. I couldn’t help but feel like there was a huge weight on my chest. This is bad. This is very bad.

I led her into the room where the guys had seemed to clean up a bit and turned off the music. They were standing around, some talking to the mates others looking down at their cell phones. Jang Mi was in the room. Where did she disappear in the first place?

As I entered the room, Sehun and the other men turned around. My parents entered behind me.

“Ooh,” my mom cooed, “Which one of these attractive men is dating my daughter?” A sly smile was on her lips as she scanned the room. At that moment I locked eyes with Jang Mi who looked on with apologetic eyes. She planned this a long time ago so I won’t be too angry at her. She was trying to give me an early birthday gift. However, the timing couldn’t be any worse.

Sehun cleared his throat walking forward with a friendly smile. His nerves were quite visible and it was clear that he was a bit frighten at the fact that he had to meet my parents so unexpectedly.

He stretched his arm out, “Nice to meet you, ma’am. I’m Oh Sehun.”

I felt my heart drop as both my parents flinched back when he spoke his name.

Sehun stopped, a bit confused, looking to me for help. I was also frozen. The tension in the room was yet to be felt by anyone other than my parents and I. I stood by Sehun’s side wishing and praying that I wasn’t here right now.

“Y/N.” My mom said keeping her eyes on Sehun as she spoke. The kind and warm look were no longer present in her eyes. This caught the attention of the other people in the room. They were tuning in, filing catching the whiff of hostility in the air.

Tears began to well up in my eyes at the situation before me.

“Y/N,” my mom repeated, “It’s not the same Oh Sehun is it? Please tell me I’m wrong.” A nervous cackle escapes her lips.

I hung my head down, tears falling down my eyes. I don’t know why I’m crying. Is it the tension? The look of confusion and pain on my parent's faces? Or Sehun’s innocent gaze, oblivious to the problem at hand.

“Ma’am, is something wrong?” Junmyeon was the one to approach us. Sehun turned to me as I stood at his side. At the sight of my tears, he moved forward to comfort me but my father was quicker.

“Don’t touch her!” He snarled, pulling me away from Sehun so I was standing behind him.

“Of course you grow up to be this successful. Life is cruel.” My mom hissed, “Y/N, we’re leaving.” My father began to drag me away while I protested.

“No! No! Please, mom, let me explain!” The whole place turned into chaos, as my parents tried to drag me away, while Junmyeon and Yixing were trying to speak some sense into them. Sehun, on the other hand, was completely lost, all his questions sitting on his face.

“Please, just listen to what I have to say! He’s not like that anymore!” I gripped my father’s wrist as his hand was locked around my arm.

“How dare you open your mouth to defend him?” My father snapped tugging on my arm even more. Suddenly Sehun stepped in, placing his hand over my father’s. The difference in strength was clear. Sehun was stronger, but he was tugging on me like my father was.

“Sir, with all due respect, I am not sure what is going on. Please let’s all calm down talk.” Sehun tried speaking with a leveled voice. My father shook his hand off.

“Yes, let’s all just talk like adults. Let’s sit down and figure things out, cause we’re all confused.” Eun Ji suddenly said from her spot beside Jang Mi.

“There is nothing to be confused about.” My mother snarled. She took slow bouncy steps up to Sehun who towered over her. Despite the difference in height, she looked right into his eyes, no sign of a hesitation in them.

“You and your rich friends bullied my daughter in middle school and the early years of high school, to the point that we had to move to a different country so she could start over.” My mom said.

It felt like everything in the room froze. It was like everyone stopped breathing, and you could probably hear a pin be dropped. Everyone’s eyes were on me as I stood there ashamed. Sehun’s eyes widened and trembled while he gawked at me.

“What?” It came out as an airy whisper but I heard it. I cast my gaze down at my feet. I didn’t even have the confidence to look at him.

I could hear the tears in my mom’s voice which made me start crying again, “You basically destroyed my daughter’s confidence, passion, brightness, and smile. You don’t know the pain we went through to get her even close to who she used to be.”

“I don’t know what you did to change her mind about you, but that surely won’t happen with me. You don’t deserve to be in her presence let alone deserve her love. Whatever this relationship was, is over.”

Raising her point finger my mom poked Sehun in the chest as said these last few words, “I don’t care how you’ve changed, stay the hell away from Y/N.” With that, she turned her back on Sehun and headed for the exit.

So shocked by the reveal of my past with Sehun, no one protested as my father followed my mother, dragging me along.

The whole time I kept my head down, avoiding Sehun’s gaze. As we stepped out the front door I could hear my mom’s soft sobs and her body was trembling. Those few years after moving were a dark time for all of us.

It seems I’m not the only one with unhealed wounds.

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