#like i have 8 pieces of homework that are missing and i keep telling myself im going to do them but i just end up getting distracted and no

[soupdreamer]

sometimes i wonder if i’m just lazy and procrastinate a lot to no avail or if there’s something that’s genuinely wrong with me

[stylesluxx]

imprint – p.lahote

[warnings: angst, swearing, an anxiety attack]

summary: in which y/n thinks it's just the imprint talking | part two

word count: 6,171

masterlist

"Long night?"

You sighed and turned around to face your best friend. You've known Jacob for as long as you can remember. You went to the same schools (you begged your parents to keep you together) and his house was a two-minute walk from yours.

"Very," You nodded and turned back around to shove your chemistry textbook in your locker.

"I can't believe you spend your nights looking through this stupid textbook."

"I can't believe you think it's okay to bother me at 8 AM," You retorted playfully and shut your locker.

"Don't be friends with me then," He shrugged and wrapped an arm around your shoulder as you started walking to your first class.

"I hope those two idiots are on time."

"Embry and Quil? On-time? Come on, Y/N, let's be realistic here."

You laughed and shook your head as you walked into your Spanish class. You happily greeted your teacher and sat in your usual spot in the middle of the class. Jake took the seat next to you and you looked over at the empty seats Quil and Embry would later occupy.

The bell rang, signifying the start of the first period and you felt Jacob move to take your backpack off your back.

"You really must be tired," He chuckled and set the bag next to your seat.

"You have no idea," You yawned and put your hand up to cover your mouth.

Quil and Embry ran into the room, panting and heaving, right after the morning announcements ceased.

"Typical," You mumbled.

They apologized to the teacher for disrupting the class before moving to their seats. As they walked in front of your table, you stuff a foot out and watched Quil trip and push Embry forward involuntarily.

"Watch it, you clumsy idiot!" Embry whisper-yelled, making you giggle.

"It was Y/N's fault. She tripped me," Quil argued as they both took their seats.

Quil and Embry were a package deal. One summer you went to Boston to visit some family and when you came back, Jacob had made some new friends. At the age of eight, you were used to having Jacob all to yourself but the two idiots refused to leave you alone once you came back just in time for school. The two boys grew on you fairly quickly (they brought you candy every day to get on your good side) and the four of you grew super close, they were practically your brothers.

You glanced around the classroom to see if anyone was distracted by the two idiots but at this point, no one bothered paying the two any attention.

You noticed there was one empty seat left and you realized the spot belonged to Paul Lahote.

Paul Lahote was an enigma. Well, only to you. Everyone knew he was hotheaded and cocky but there was something about him that pulled you in. As deluded as it sounded, you believed there to be another side to Paul Lahote.

You looked away from the empty seat and fixed your eyes on the classroom door opening and closing. There he was, in all his glory.

Jacob scoffed and rolled his eyes as he watched you become entranced in the boy you had a crush on.

"Still don't know what you see in him," Jacob whispered.

"I have a thing for unrequited love," You shrugged.

Paul would usually walk in with a boastful smirk on his face but today it was replaced with a frown and his eyebrows were furrowed in discomfort.

He quietly talked to the teacher and handed her a note. She nodded and took the piece of paper from him, setting it on her desk.

He kept his head down as he trudged over to his seat by the window and sat down. His head immediately met the table, his arms in between his head and the desk to give him some comfort.

"Have you guys ever thought about setting alarms?"

You scoffed at this question that was directed toward Embry and Quil. It was lunchtime and your hand was moving fast, trying to finish your Spanish homework so you wouldn't have to waste time doing it at home.

"Ashley, do you think they've ever even heard of alarm clocks?" You questioned.

Ashley was first introduced to the group during freshman year. She was new to La Push but had no issue walking up to you and asking for a friend.

"I figured since it's the first day, we could just be each other's comfort," She shrugged.

Of course, she didn't know about the boys but she was soon introduced to them during gym class. Quil embarrassingly kicked a ball directly in her face, causing her to turn red, clearly infuriated.

"Of course this happens on the first day," You sighed and ran over to her. "Are you okay? I'm really sorry about my friend. He was born uncoordinated."

"Yeah, no kidding," She huffed and rubbed her red cheek that was beginning to swell.

She was still making Quil pay for the incident. Every time she wanted something from him, she'd milk the remind him of "the most tragic moment in La Push history." 

She wanted him to get lunch for her?

"Quil, remember when you almost shattered my face? Well, I do. It was the first day of high school. Can you go get me lunch?”

He’d just sigh and shake his head before standing up and doing whatever she asked.

While Embry and Quil argued over whose fault it was that they were always late, Ashley turned to you, head on palm and elbow on the table.

"So how's day one million of crushing on Paul Lahote?" She teased and of course, Jacob just rolled his eyes.

You reached over and tugged at his long hair gently, making him swat your hand away.

"Day one million of my ordinary life is going great," You nodded with a smile.

"You do realize, he's just your typical arrogant asshole, correct?" Embry spoke up.

"Well, it's not like I'll ever have to deal with it. As if he'd even think about talking to me," You blew a raspberry and scooped up a spoonful of the rice sitting on your plate.

"Speak of the devil," Ashley grinned and elbowed your ribs, making you jolt up from your sulking position.

You watched as he practically dragged himself over to the lunch line and grabbed a tray.

Any other day you'd watch his pretty brown eyes follow around the prettiest girls at school and give them a wink. Any other day, your heart would drop to your ass and you'd sigh in defeat. But today his bright smile stayed hidden and you watched as he scowled uncomfortably.

"Looks like someone's in a bad mood today," Quil observed.

"Oh, thank you, Captain Obvious. What was the giveaway?" Ashley quipped, her and Quil rolling their eyes at the same time.

"You guys realize he's human and can have a bad day, right?" You asked and watched him flop into a seat at an empty table.

"Oh really? I would've thought he was a god the way he walked around here," Jacob spoke sarcastically while chewing his food.

"He's just... misunderstood."

—

Days went by and Paul just stopped coming to school. The day after he came in looking out of place, he came to school two periods in, and then the day after that he just left school early. That was the last time you saw him.

For the first couple of days, you looked for him but after a week, you just gave up. Weeks went by and there was no sign of him, you just hoped that he was okay.

"Still have hope your little boyfriend isn't a high school dropout?" Jacob teased as he saw you look over at Paul's empty seat.

"Are you obsessed with him?" You rolled your eyes and hit his water bottle obnoxiously, knocking it down. "You guys always bring him up. Are you sure you're not the one crushing on him?”

"Don't disrespect me. If I was interested in guys, it definitely wouldn't be Lahote; I love myself enough."

You rolled your eyes again and scoffed before telling him to “just shut up.”

Once the bell finished ringing, Embry and Quil rushed in claiming they weren't late. Quil learned to walk behind your table instead of in front and tugged at your hair.

"Jackass," You mumbled and rubbed your head.

15 minutes into the lesson, the door opened and shut but you didn't bother to lift your head until you heard the voice.

"I apologize for being late," He spoke smoothly and your head whipped up in shock.

You watched the boy hand a note to the teacher with a smug grin on his face.

"Look what the cat dragged in," Jacob mumbled and raised an eyebrow.

"He looks much better," You mumbled back as you watched him confidently walk through the classroom and claim his seat.

"Yeah, and he got all muscly and tall. How do you gain that much height so quickly?"

"And you're sure you don't have a crush on him?"

But Jacob was right. When Paul disappeared he was scrawny and 5'11" but now he was muscular and at least 6'4". And was that a tattoo? He wore a shirt that showed off his muscles and a tattoo that wasn't there when he disappeared.

Once Spanish class let out everyone rushed out the classroom and in the doorway, you spotted Jared Cameron. Paul walked out ahead of you and met Jared, punching his shoulder playfully and laughing at whatever his newfound friend had said.

And now that you saw the two together, you remembered that Jared too disappeared earlier that year. He was in your second-period math class and one day he was there and the next he wasn't. He also looked sick the days leading up to his absence and came back taller and muscular. You looked closely and saw they both had the same tattoo in the same spot.

"Don't stare too hard, Creep," You heard Embry's voice.

You shoved him away before turning around and walking to your next period.

The day slowly dragged on and before you knew it you were in chemistry, the dreadful class right before lunch. You listened to your teacher drone on and on about something you didn't understand. By the end of the lesson you realized you'd have to skip lunch to get some help, so you sent the group chat a quick text before grabbing your things and moving to the front of the classroom. You sat down and politely asked the teacher for help, which she happily agreed to.

You were in the middle of balancing a formula when you heard feet shuffling into the classroom.

"Do you mind if I pick up some of the work I missed? It's all been excused."

"Sure, Paul. Let me head upstairs and grab it from my office. Just wait here," The teacher said and stood up from the chair. "And keep going Y/N, you're doing great!"

You nodded and kept your eyes on your paper as she retreated from the classroom. You finished the problem you were on and started working on the next one but you were stumped. This problem was nothing like the first and different rules had to be applied.

"I can't," You muttered to yourself and tossed your pencil down on the desk.

You pulled away from the desk and raised your head to look at the board in front of you but your eyes met another pair.

You weren't expecting Paul to be leaning against the board directly in front of you, his arms crossed over his chest. He must've looked over when he heard you speak and your eyes met coincidentally.

You gave him a forced and awkward smile when you realized he wasn't looking away. His arms fell to his sides and his mouth gaped as he continued to stare.

"Uh, are you alright?" You asked him and gave him a concerned look.

Before he could answer, the chem teacher came back in the room with a stack of papers in her hands. Paul quickly turned his attention to her, grabbed the papers, and whispered a soft thank you before bolting out of the room.

You felt your cheeks grow hot in embarrassment and turned your focus back to the paper in front of you.

For the rest of the day, you tried to push that moment to the back of your mind. You couldn't believe that was your first encounter with Paul. You were so embarrassed you weren't even going to tell your friends because you knew you'd never hear the end of it.

The rest of the day and into the next goes completely uneventful until it's time for lunch.

You were at your locker with Jacob, switching out notebooks and binders, teasing him about how he was drooling in his sleep during first period.

"You were snoring too," You lied, trying to get a reaction out of him.

"You are such a liar. What do you even gain from lying?"

You laughed and went to respond but were cut off by the view of Paul Lahote walking in your direction. He turned to look at Jared who just shooed him over with a hand motion, before turning back around, his eyes on you.

You ignored Jacob trying to regain your attention and gave Paul a gentle smile and prayed you wouldn't embarrass yourself.

"Hi, I'm Paul. Lahote. Paul Lahote. I've never really introduced myself which is weird because you're... stunning and we're in the same grade and I think we have some classes together," He babbled on nervously, making your eyebrows crinkle while you tried to keep up with what he was saying.

"I'm Y/N," You cut off his rambling and reached your hand out for him to shake.

He looked at it for a second before looking back at you with a smile and reaching his hand out to meet yours. You stood like this for a few moments, your hand in his and his eyes on you in awe.

Jacob cleared his throat and pulled Paul out of his trance as he turned to glare at Jacob, dropping your hand in the process.

"Is there something you needed?" You saved Jacob from Paul's death glare with this question.

Paul's head snapped toward you and he started to grow red in embarrassment or nervousness, you couldn't tell.

"I was, uh, I was wondering if you'd go on a date with me?"

You lightly gasped, unnoticeable to anyone but you, and your eyes slightly widened.

"O-oh wow," You mumbled and bent your head to look at the binder in your hands, trying to avoid the three sets of eyes on you. You felt the heat rise to your face and a shy smile grow. You weren't used to this type of attention especially from the boy you've been crushing on for three years, so you were a mix of nervous and shocked and happy. You were feeling everything at once.

"Only if you want to!" He started to backtrack when you didn't give him an answer.

You looked back up at him and shook your head at his words but you realized it looked like you were rejecting him when his face started to fall, disheartened.

"No! I mean, no, I don't mean no. I mean yes, I'll go on a date with you," You stammered, trying to clear everything up.

"Okay cool," He nodded and his pretty smile returned to his face. "I'll pick you up Saturday at noon?"

"Yeah, okay, sounds good."

"Okay cool," He repeated before walking away, making sure to give you a shy wave as he went toward Jared.

"What... the hell was that?" Jacob broke his silence and looked at you wide-eyed as you kept your eyes on Paul's retreating figure.

"Looks like I got a date."

—

The days leading up to your date had to be the most delightful days you've ever experienced while in high school.

On Wednesday morning, you were greeted by a smiley Paul who was leaning against your locker.

"Good morning," You smiled as he moved off your locker and leaned on the one next to yours.

"Morning! I thought I'd walk you to first period."

"Oh wow, you'll be early to class today," You teased, making him laugh and nod.

On Thursday, Paul walked you to class again; of course, you weren't complaining, you'd take any opportunity to talk to him. On this day, he met you at the doorway of the chem room and walked you to the cafeteria.

You thanked him as he opened the door for you and got hot in the face when you saw Ashley give you a wink and a thumbs up from the lunch table.

He kept you company as you waited in the lunch line and separated once you sat at your table, softly bidding you a good rest of the day.

And on Friday, everything was repeated but with a new addition.

Paul was waiting for you in the lobby and usually, Jacob would be trailing behind you but it was boys night for the boys and girls night for you and Ashley. So Jacob was catching a ride with Embry and Quil and Ashley was already waiting by your Jeep.

"Do you just want my schedule so you won't have to wait longer than you need to?" You asked him with a playful smirk.

"Then I'd officially be stalking you," He played along and followed you outside. He took your umbrella from your hands, opened it, and held it over your head to shield you from the rain.

"Are you always such a gentleman?" You giggled and looked up at him, his eyes already set on you and filled with admiration. "And it's not stalking if I want to be pursued."

"Oh really?" He raised an eyebrow.

You turned away and gave Ashley a quick smile once you reached the car.

"Do you need a ride?" You asked the boy next to you, turning back to face him.

"No, I've got a ride with Jared. But I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Can't wait," You confirmed and took the umbrella from his hands.

You shut the umbrella and got in the car as Paul walked over to Jared. You set the umbrella on the floor in the back and your backpack on the seat. Ashley followed your lead and punched your shoulder in excitement.

"Stop it," You whined and rubbed your shoulder.

As you pulled out of the parking spot, you drove by Paul and gave him one last wave before driving home to start the weekend.

Paul arrived the next day at exactly noon. When you heard the doorbell ring throughout the house, you sprinted down the stairs to make sure neither of your parents got there before you. You already told them you were going out with a friend earlier in the week but they assumed it was one of the dorks you usually spent your time with and you let them think that. You didn't want to introduce them to Paul just for things to not work out. It even took you a while to introduce them to Ashley. People meeting your parents is a sacred thing, a rite of passage if you will.

"You look gorgeous. You are gorgeous!" He greeted you with a bright smile.

"Thank you, though I'm just wearing jeans and a sweatshirt," You shrugged and shut the door behind you. "No offense, but you look tired. Did you get any sleep last night?"

"Oh no, it's okay," He shook his head and his eyes fell toward the ground while he thought of a response. "I just was anxious about the date is all. Couldn't really sleep much."

He walked you over to his truck and opened the door for you, which you thanked him for, before going over to the driver's side. "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Try to get some rest tonight. Some tea usually helps me. I'll give you a couple of my relaxation teabags when you bring me back home. Just remind me," You spoke softly while giving him a concerned look. "Will do," He nodded and pulled out of your driveway.

He brought you to your favorite diner in all of Washington and was super polite. He was opening the doors for you, pulling out your seat, and even paid for the meal even though you argued against it. And though he was tired, he was clinging onto every word you said, leaning in to show he was interested. "Is that your favorite food?" He asked once the waiter took your orders. "No, but I do enjoy it," You shrugged. "What's your favorite food then?" "I like any kind of pasta," You said after pondering for a moment. "Spaghetti, ravioli, lasagna, and anything else." And that's how it went the whole time. Paul would ask you questions, trying to get to know you in any way possible and you'd answer and ask him questions.

It was fun, there was never a dull moment, and even when things were getting quiet, he'd crack a joke that'd make you burst into laughter. It was the perfect date in your eyes; he was so polite and caring or maybe it was just you giving your crush more credit than he deserved, but that still didn't change how you felt.

When Monday came around, Paul was at your locker and classes, waiting for you and walking with you. At lunch, he was standing by your chem class with a Tupperware bowl in his hand and a nervous demeanor.

"Hey, what's that?" You asked and pointed to the bowl he was gripping onto tightly.

"I, uh, I brought you pasta. It's spaghetti. You said that pasta was your favorite food so I kinda made you some. Well, I helped make it," He nervously stumbled over his words, making you giggle. You stopped walking once you got to your table and he held his arms straight out, handing the bowl to you. "Here you go."

You felt the heat rise to your face once again and you took the bowl from him. You glanced down at the bowl before looking back up at him and pulling him into a hug.

"This was so beyond thoughtful. Thank you so much," You praised him and rubbed his back with your free hand. You pulled away and held the bowl up to your eyes so you could see the food. You set your hands back by your waist again and locked eyes with his, both sets of eyes filled with amazement. "This was so sweet."

"Anything for you," He nodded.

"I'll give it back to you right after lunch. I promise," You told him and held out a pinky.

He chuckled and grabbed onto your pinky with his own, "I believe you."

He let go of you and walked off to sit with Jared but you kept your eyes on him and watched his friend grab onto his shoulders and shake him happily.

You turned to your table and sat down, already replaying what just happened in your mind.

"Wow," Embry started.

"I've never seen you that cheesy before," Jacob chortled.

"I've never seen Paul that cheesy before," Quil scoffed. "So are you gonna share that?" He asked and pointed to your bowl.

"Anyway, Y/N, how was the date?" Ashley asked, pulling your attention from the boys.

"Oh it was great, he was very sweet! I like him. I told you guys he's not bad like everyone makes him out to be," You swooned at the thought of how you spent your Saturday.

"It's like he can hear you, that stupid grin won't leave his face," Embry observed, making you turn your head to look at Paul.

"So what if he's happy? Y/N's happy," Ashley regained your attention and you nodded at her statement.

"Very happy."

Once you finished up the spaghetti, you excused yourself from the table and went to go rinse it out. You walked over to Jared and Paul's table; Jared was the first to notice since Paul's back was toward you and pointed at you. You gave him a small smile before turning your attention to Paul.

"The food was really good. I rinsed the bowl out but of course, you'll have to wash it when you get home. Thank you again though," You spoke gratefully and handed the bowl back to him.

He took the bowl from you and then you proceeded to lean down and peck his cheek before scurrying back to your table in shock by your actions.

"This is a proud moment for me," Ashley feigned tears and held a hand over her chest, making you laugh.

—

For weeks it seemed like the joy Paul brought to your life was never-ending.

You've gone on a couple more dates which you thoroughly enjoyed. He took you to the movies but fell asleep within the first five minutes. You laughed quietly and shook your head as you rested on his shoulder.

He explained to you how he sometimes has to work overnight shifts at his job, so you didn't fault him for being tired. You tried to cancel the dates and get him to catch up on his sleep, but he insisted on spending time with you, making you adore him even more.

The two of you were in Port Angeles for the next date and while it was freezing, you were both sitting on a bench outside eating ice cream.

"You're not cold?" You looked at Paul as you shivered.

"No, are you?" He asked and you nodded your head quickly. "Come on, let's go sit in my truck."

You stood up and he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. You leaned into his warmth and hummed happily at the feeling of him.

He opened the door to his truck and helped you get in then shut the door behind you. He got in on the driver's side, turned the car on, and turned the heat on.

"You have that big coat on and you're still cold?" He teased.

"You only have a sweatshirt on and still feel hotter than the sun."

He laughed and watched you lean back in the seat and go back to eating your ice cream. You felt his eyes on you for a while but you kept your eyes on the rain that started to fall outside.

"You know, you could always just ask to take a picture," You teased, looking at him from your peripheral vision.

"Okay." He took his phone from his pocket and faced it toward you. "Smile!"

You turned to him enthusiastically and gave him a big childlike smile before giving him a regular one.

"Let me see," You softly demanded, losing the rush of confidence you just had.

He turned the screen to you and showed you the pictures.

"You're so beautiful," He complimented as he set his new screensaver as a picture of you. The heat automatically rose to your cheeks and giggled happily.

"I could say the same."

You looked up at him and met his eyes, your heart racing, and your stomach full of butterflies.

"Do you mind if I kiss you?" He asked politely, looking from your eyes to your lips, and then back.

"No, not at all," You slightly shook your head and leaned in closer.

He filled in the rest of the space and his lips gently landed on yours. He set his phone down and both of his hands reached up to cup your face. With your eyes shut, you focused on the kiss and how soft his lips were; you knew you were instantly addicted, not wanting to pull away. But you had to breathe, so when you pulled away, you gave him one last peck before coyly turning around to face the windshield and finish your ice cream.

"That was perfect."

—

Paul arrived at your house a week later, pulling you by your hand energetically into the woods.

"Paul, where are we going?" You giggled as you held onto his hand while stepping over a log.

"We're going to the beach but I have to tell you something. Well... show you something. That's why we're walking."

"Oh okay, what is it?"

"So, you've heard the Quileute legends, I'm sure" He started and pushed a tree branch out of the way. "Jacob has probably told you. But what if I told you it was real? And I'm a shapeshifter?"

"Uh, I'd probably laugh," You chuckled and looked up at him.

"Well, it's true. I can, uh, I can show you if you'd like," He stammered nervously and rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb.

You raised your eyebrows and nodded hesitantly. He pulled his hand from yours and backed up. He shook his head as he kicked his shoes off and stripped out of his clothes.

"Paul?" You questioned.

"Just trust me. I need you to know that I'd never hurt you," He said before he started shaking and getting red all over.

Your eyes widened and your feet moved backward to get some more distance as he leaped into the air and was suddenly on all fours.

"Paul?" You said once more but shakier.

In front of you stood a huge dark silver wolf that was five times larger than your boyfriend that previously stood in front of you. At first, he was intimidating but then once he noticed your frightened expression, he started whining and the wolf tried to come closer.

You wanted to step back but you remember he said he'd never hurt you, so you tried to relax your mind and reached a hand up to pet his head.

He snuggled into your palm and huffed happily. You let out a breath of relief and giggled when he licked your cheek.

"My Paul," You nodded, coming to terms with what is.

He reluctantly pulls away from your touch and goes over to where he left his clothes. He picked his shorts up in his mouth before walking away and going behind a tree somewhere.

You assumed he needed to change back so you grabbed his shirt and sneakers off the ground, but stayed put otherwise.

He jogged back over to you in his human form, already holding his hand out for you to take. You latched onto his hand and he took his sneakers out your hands, but let you keep his shirt.

"So do you believe me?" He asked, sarcasm laced in his voice, as he pulled you along toward the beach.

You nodded but asked the question that sat in the front of your mind. "Does it hurt when you..?" You trailed off, not knowing the right term.

"When I shift?" He finished. "It used to hurt a lot like my whole body was on fire but now it just feels like little pinches all over my body."

"I don't like that, Paul," You frowned and shook your head at the thought of him being in any type of pain.

"Oh, me either, Darling," He said while pulling you closer and kissing your forehead. "Also, you can't tell anyone. Not even Jacob. It's imperative that you don't."

"Okay," You nodded obediently before demonstrating you zipping your mouth closed and tossing the keys somewhere in the trees.

"Silly girl," He smiled.

"And what about Jared?"

"He shifts too. Along with Sam Uley. I'm sure you know him; La Push is only so big. We think Jacob might be next. Him or Embry."

"There's nothing they can do to stop it?" You asked him, worried for your friends.

"If the lee-" He cut himself off. "Sadly, no. If they seem a little off to you, a little more on edge than usual, tell me. And try to get some distance, I don't want you getting hurt if they shift."

You slipped your sneakers off once you got to the beach along with your socks and stuff them into the shoes. You insisted that you sat right there the water would be able to touch your feet but still far enough where your clothes jeans stayed dry.

Paul dragged you out of the house while you were only wearing a tank top on your upper body, so the beach air sent chills throughout your body. You pulled on Paul's plain brown shirt and leaned against him, your own personal heater.

"So being this warm is a wolf thing?" You inquired.

"Yeah," He nodded. "There's also something called imprinting."

"And what's that?"

Paul looked around to see if anyone was close enough to hear but it was 8:00 PM, no one would be here unless it was one of the boys.

"Basically it's like a soulmate; a soulmate mixed with love at first sight. After phasing, I was able to imprint. It was completely involuntary, I didn't have a choice. When you see the person, your person, it's like nothing else matters. They're the reason you've been put on this earth. It's your job to protect them. be whatever they want you to be. A friend, a lover. You just will do anything for them. It hurts to be away from them for too long. You hurt when they hurt," Paul explained while keeping his eyes on the moon ahead of him.

"You know the feeling?" You hesitantly asked while turning to look over at him. You didn't want to ask in case you weren't his imprint but the curiosity took over and you needed to know.

"I imprinted on you. You're my imprint," He confirmed.

"Oh," You breathed out and turned to look at the water that gently touched your toes.

You received a lot of information today. And then to find out that Paul imprinted on you gave you a lot of mixed emotions. You were happy that you found the person you're supposed to be with forever but now you were looking at the whole relationship differently.

"So when did you phase?" You asked, keeping your eyes down.

"You remember when I was out of school for a bit?"

"Mhm," You hummed quietly and nodded.

"That's when. I imprinted on you that day you were getting help in the chem room."

"So..." You trailed off, trying to think of the exact words you wanted to say. "You only asked me out because you imprinted on me?"

"Yes," He answered quickly but then shook his head when he realized what you were trying to get at. "No, I mean no. It's not like that."

"I've had a crush on you since freshman year. I thought you'd finally noticed me and wanted me for me, but I guess it's only because of the imprint," You humorlessly chuckled and held your knees to your chest.

"No, Y/N, it's not like that-"

"Think about it, Paul. You've never noticed me before and our school is so tiny; La Push is only so big like you said. Everyone knows everyone and you still didn't notice me. You would've never even breathed in my direction had it not been for the imprint. I'm only beautiful, or gorgeous... or stunning, because the imprint tells you I am. You don't really think that and you don't really like me. Be honest with yourself," You ranted but still had a soft and gentle voice.

"Y/N..."

"I want to be with someone who chooses to love me. You are forced to love me," You sniffled and wiped your nose with your hand.

It was silent for a while after that and you just let the tears fall down your face. Somewhere deep down you knew everything with Paul was all too good to be true but you ignored it. You believed you were finally getting the fairytale story you deserved. But this wasn't it. It was like some twisted joke the universe was playing on you. And you just wanted someone to hold you. You wanted Paul to hold you and tell you everything would be alright. Despite how you were feeling, you still felt a sense of safety and home around him. But you couldn't fall into that anymore. You were now full-on bawling your eyes out and hiccuping while trying to keep the sobs from escaping your body.

"For your sake, l-let's still be friends. But for m-my sake, very distant friends-"

"Y/N, please-"

"Goodbye, Paul."

You stood up quickly and grabbed your shoes, trudging through the sand. You let a sob escape your mouth once you were a distance away. You felt it getting harder to breathe, so you picked up the pace, wanting to get to your destination before you passed out. There was only one place you could think of going that gave you the same warmth and homeliness you felt in Paul's arms. Jacob's.

[AN: omg I’m so nervous about posting this but I’ve been working on it for weeks and I’m really proud of it. thanks for reading!]

[futurewriter2000]

If we are not this, than what are we?

- pt. 1- 

A/N: I got inspired by tik tok for this and let me tell you, I’m so glad I did write this. I’m probably gonna do a part 2 because I couldn’t put all the request in and I have to. It didn’t fit all together and Imma finish it in part two I gues??? Idk. Just school is in my head right now so it’s hard to think.

REQUEST: Can I request a James PotterxSlytherin!Reader where they were neighbours and bestfriends as kids and when she got sorted in slytherin, james was an arse to her. When they are older (6th/7th year) they spend time and realise they like each other but all their family and friends are against it.

XX

James Potter.

An asshole.

A true, unpredictable asshole.

"GIVE IT BACK, JAMES!" you shouted, stretching your arm to get the journal in his hand.

You didn't know how he got a hold of it. It has always been under your pillow, sometimes under the cushions or the bed but never in reach for someone to grab.

He threw the journal to Sirius, who was laughing a few feet behind him. James wrapped his arm around your neck and stood behind you. You grabbed his strong arm that was tightening your neck and causing your head to be in an uncomfortable position. "YOU'RE HURTING ME! JAMES!" you shouted, feeling tears well up in your eyes as other students started to gather around and watch.

"Hurting you?" he loosened the grip and you pushed yourself away into Sirius' arms, grabbing the journal from his hands and pushing it against your chest. "You know we're always playing, lil Snake." he kept goading you, seeing well clear you were about as close to crying as Sirius was close behind you.

"You're an asshole!" you fumed at him. "A self-observed, narcissistic, prideful, son-of-a-bitch asshole!"

"And you're a slag, (y/n) (y/l/n)."

"Oh, I'M A SLAG?!?" you stepped back, scoffing and laughing forcefully. "Have you looked yourself in the mirror lately, Potter? Or were you too busy playing with Bibby the Bear? You know, coddle him like you did when we were kids? Kiss him a kiss goodnight?" you goaded and saw the colour on his skin turn bright red.

"Hold her, Pads!" he growled and you felt your arms being whisked away from your book.

Sirius was locking your arms behind your back, causing the journal to fall to the floor and being picked up by none other than, James Potter.

You knew there was no way out of this. You knew it and you admit to it but it's your journal and it's all of your feelings on a page.

You've been bullied by him since the first year. He was the one causing you to be anti-social. Because everybody loves James and who James likes, they like but who James doesn't like, they do not like either.

So as he opened the cover with the malicious smirk plastered on his lips, he took one last look at you. "Got any other words to say to me or do you want me to just read it?"

You felt your knees go completely numb and you were might as well hanging in Sirius' grip. "Please, James. Please don't." you pleaded, begged, prayed even... But it was James... And James hates you.

He opened and started to read. He laughed immediately. "Okay, okay. You weirdo." he commented and tears started to trickle down your eyes. "Dear thinking book, May 5th, 1973 - blah blah blah - Oh!" he exclaimed, looking up at you. "You fancied the Perfect Klemmens in your third year? - 'His eyes are so wonderful! Green marbles-"' "he laughed, barely containing it, just as the other students around you. "- sorry. It's just too funny. " he continued to laugh. "- for you to think you ever had a chance with Klemens."

"STOP!" you shouted but he just turned around with his finger in the air.

"I'm just gonna skip 73' since Klemens is all you talked about." he flipped a few pages. "What happened to 74'?"

You don't talk about 1974.

"Oh, here I am!" he beamed. "September 3rd: 'Back here and nothing has changed. Everything is the same, even the infamous Asshole of the Gryffindor tower hasn't grown up a brain.'" he looked at you and touched his heart. "Ouch. To be quite frank with you my brain is evolved just fine. It's yours who need some working." he was up close, watching you and blinded by the wet cheeks.

A tear fell and you felt absolutely defeated. You spat in his face, kicked Sirius in his crotch, and pulled out your wand "Inferno!" you shouted but instead of hitting the journal as you wanted you, you lit up James robe.

At this point, you didn't care.

"Missed!" you heard his mocking laugh but you just ran. You ran outside, you ran out of the castle, you ran so far until you were sobbing at the edge of the lake.

His voice kept repeating in your head as fat tears rolled down your cheeks. You lost your whole energy to that night. You laid on the side, rocks digging in your hips and causing you much more pain but to that pain, you were numb. The real pain was inside of you. You grabbed the grass and pulled it out because you were so furious and so upset. You just wanted to die right there and then.

'He used to be my best friend!' you cried in your head, tears enabling you to open your eyes as a scene of a messy 8-year-old boy, prancing around you and pulling you into the mud with him rolled in your head. 'We used to be best friends.'

---

He walked into the dorm, seeing Remus help Peter with his homework. He stomped proudly, throwing the journal on his bed and taking off his school robe. He pulled up the burnt edge and shrugged. "Oh, well. I'll just write mum to buy me another one." he laid on his bed with his shoes still on.

"Where's your other half?" Remus asked.

"Saw some Tinkerbell down the corridor as we walked. Got distracted."

"Should I ask about the robe?"

"Nah. No, fun without someone else telling the story. We'll have to wait for Sirius."

"Alright."

"Alright." repeated James, looking at the ceiling and thinking of you. It plastered a smile on his face to know you wrote about him in your journal. "I wonder..." he mumbled to himself, laying on his stomach and opening the journal again.

" November 16th, 1975: 'I thought I was over this. I thought I was strong enough! I THOUGHT I WOULDN' T BE TREATED LIKE THIS ANYMORE! I keep repeating the same thing because I know that I still can't get it through my thick head of how he went from my best friend to my enemy. '" James turned the page and kept reading. It was obvious. You were a Slytherin. You betrayed him. Everybody knows Slytherins are the worst."' I can remember us just chasing each other down the big grass. His mother hated me as a child. Both of our parents disapproved of our friendship- his mother hated me because of my parents but I can' t choose which family I was born into. He promised that he doesn't care about what his parents think of me but clearly, he does. Clearly, he thinks I am just as WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT!'" he backed his head away from the page, completely shocked by this sudden burst of anger.

What? Why would you think he thinks that?

He furrowed his eyebrows at the page and continued to read. " 'He hates me just like everybody else. He hates me just like his parents hate me. He hates me just like my own parents hate me. He hates me just like the rest of Hogwarts- hell he' s the cause behind all of that in the first place. And you know what's the worst part?! When he bullies me and belittles me in front of everybody- when he makes me cry and weep in the long nights after that - I still can't do it. I still can't bully him back AND I HATE MYSELF BECAUSE OF IT! I'M SO DUMB AND SO STUPID! I CAN' T EVEN STICK UP FOR MY OWN SELF, LET ALONE SOMEONE ELSE!!! - "

Again...that burst of anger but... But what was he feeling currently? What?

What's happening in his head right now? Why does he feel like his world just flipped? Why does he feel like he wants to cry? What's this uncomfortable feeling inside of him that feels like it's eating away his stomach?

" 'I hate myself. I just hate myself so much. I hate everything about me. I can' t even look myself in the mirror anymore. I'm just so bloody ugly and pathetic. Why am I still putting up with this? Why don't I just end it as a normal person would? Why don't I just end it right here and now? "

He read and his eyes were wide and watery. He didn't even know what he was doing until he was outside the castle grounds, breathing heavily.

Merlin?! - he grabbed his head. What if you kill yourself because of him?! What if you- how could he live with himself! - he-

"I can't breathe!" he gasped for air. "I- what's happ-" he tried to grab the air with his hands but then his eyes saw you- you in the far distance. You in your Slytherin robes, looking at the mirror of yourself in the water. You were on your knees, just letting your fingers dip and move along the waves.

His breathing got calmer, the air filled his lungs and for some odd reason, he smiled.

"Thank God!" he breathed out, getting on his feet and moving forwards.

You heard branches snap behind you and you quickly turned around, eyes widening in terror. "Please, James don't hurt me! James, pleas-"

He opened his arms and crashed into you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into a hug. "Thank God, you're alive!" he squeezed you tight and you felt the confusion hit your brain cells.

"What?"

He squeezed you harder against him, digging his nose into your neck. "I'm so sorry, (y/n)" he felt a lump form in his throat and he started to choke on it, letting out fat tears. "I'm so sorry (y/n)!" he sobbed and started to cry in your arms.

You were completely shaking. You didn't know whether this was a prank or if he was truly honest with you.

"I'm so sorry for hurting you!" he continued to sob and you felt it. You felt it in your bones. This wasn't you being naive. This was you feeling old James in your arms. "I didn't know! I didn't know- I'm so sorry!" he pulled away with a completely runny nose and puffy red eyes, almost matching yours. His hands rested on your shoulders and he sniffed. "I won't do it again. I promise. I'll leave you alone. I'll do anything to make up to you, I PROMISE! I PROMISE I WON'T HURT YOU- just don't think like that?"

"What in the bloody hell are you talking about, James?" you furrowed your eyebrows at him, putting your own hands on his arms.

He sniffed one more time, pulling up the journal and putting it in your hands.

The realization hit strongly. "Oh.." you took it in your grasp. "So, you uhm-"

"I read sum of it." he let go of it, wiping his cheeks. "Why didn't you just tell me?"

"Are you joking?" you forced a laugh. "You can't be serious right now? Why didn't I tell you? Because it was obvious-"

"I wasn't that horrible?"

"You were terrorizing, James." you spoke completely serious. His eyes kept watching you in shock. He didn't believe it. "I'm scared of you, don't you get it? I avoided you since the first year and every year it got worse. I didn't come to eat unless I knew you weren't there. I asked my professors to not give me classes with you. I did everything I could to stay away from you because I was scared and terrorized by you. " you removed your hands from him and stepped back.

Why were you even holding him in the first place?

"I was really that bad?"

"Yes, and you still are."

"I made you hate yourself? " he asked, eyes guilty and ashamed, afraid of the answer.

"Yes, you did." you continued to watch him.

You were honest. It felt good saying these things to him.

"You think it's because of my mum?"

"You hate me just as much as she does. It's a clear explanation."

"But it's not true."

"well, whatever the explanation is, it surely wouldn't change anything you did. You're horrible, James." it just kept coming out and at some point, you knew this was dangerous but at the other, you couldn't stop. "You used to be so kind and so sweet when we were kids, neighbors even but I couldn't shake you off. Not home, not here. It was like living with a shadow. You always followed and I was always in such pit of darkness and loneliness because of you. I hated myself because of you. I tried to love me, something, anything but you never let me and this! "you shouted, lifting the journal in your hands." This was my safety. This was my listening ear. My healing. My only trustee but now I don't even have this. So thank you, James. For taking everything away from me. " you threw the journal in the lake and moved passed him. "Thank you for killing me."

[jennbabeyy]

Stepmom Material (Pt. 8)

A/n: Sorry for the long wait ! Part 8 is finally here. We get to see a little glimpse of what was behind Coco’s decision. Thank you guys for loving Stepmom Material. Let me know what y’all think!

Coco leaned against the wall, his eyes moving around the crowd. The murmurs and conversation carried around him without any distractions or any glances at him. It was a bit of a reflex, something he found himself trying not to do when he went somewhere. Though this time, it wasn’t a reflex, he was looking for the face he now only sees in his dreams.That certain face he was looking for was no longer in his life and he didn’t really have anything or anyone to blame but himself.  

The crowd around him seemed to get bigger by the minute and Coco tried to not let the noises get to him. He’s not a huge fan of big crowds but something in him wanted to be here. There wasn’t a personal invitation from any of them and he knew he had no right trying to be here after all the shit he has pulled. 

But he was proud. 

Johnny Coco Cruz was proud of his daughter when he heard first from Angel that she was getting the highest achievement award from her high school. His daughter was doing big things and he wasn’t there next to her side to be able to enjoy it. But someone else was. 

Y/n had taken Letty in during one of the most difficult times ever for everyone. Coco didn’t remember much except from finally waking up in a room at the small clinic that the Mayans used when someone got hurt. The only thing that came to mind was his entire body screaming in pain.The days after that were a bit hazy. 

Shit was tough for a while, Coco was tied down in a bed recovering from two gunshots, one in the shoulder, another in the chest. His recovery took twice as much as expected and there was nothing he could do. He was alone most of the time, only company besides his brothers was the nice older nurse with the motherly touch he never had. 

She took care of him, encouraged him to get better. He was in pain most of the time but he deserved it. The pain reminded him of the shit he’s done in the past and he took that shit in with no complaints. According to Angel he almost died during surgery and having Creeper and Tranq in the operating room wasn’t helping the doctor.  His brothers thought he was some type of badass, a legend going down in Mayan history for surviving the worst of the worst. 

Though he didn’t feel like it. 

They never visited him those 6 months he was recovering. 

That was everything he needed to stay away. He was the poison in their lives and he didn’t want to bring any of them down. 

A small cough next to him brought him out of his daydream and he knew who it was without turning his head.

“Thought I would find you here.” Angel spoke, his eyes wandering the crowd before stopping on the familiar head sitting in the front row. 

Coco starred in the same direction, his eyes never leaving Y/n. Her hair was longer than he has last seen before and his fingers twitch at his side. His favorite thing was to run his fingers through her hair while cuddling on the couch. He still remembers the softness of her hair, especially when he misses her the most. 

“I couldn’t bring myself to miss this , even if they don’t want me here.” 

From the corner of his eye, Coco saw Angel nod his head in agreement. There wasn’t much he could say to him about everything that’s happened. He already had to deal with Bishop lecturing him the moment he woke up in the clinic. 

News had already broke that Johnny was giving up his rights as a father and leaving Letty in Y/n’s guardianship. And Bishop made sure to use every second he had to let him know how much of a good one he had lost because of selfish reasons. But little do they know what he was doing was the most selfless thing he’s done in years. 

“Ez said she’s doing good. No more sneaking out late and shit.” Angel nodded his head towards the former prospect, who was sitting in the front row seat next to Y/n. Both of them were currently laughing at something one of them said.

She looked carefree, and glowing. Ez had made an impact on both girls' lives, keeping his promises to not only Letty but Y/n. Making sure Letty could understand her homework or even challenged her with new books everytime he came to visit. 

“She happy?” Coco turned to finally face Angel, eying his best friend since they were teenagers. He was the only one during these couple of months to completely take Coco under his care.

“Leticia? I mean yeah, but she’s a teenager and she’s got all these hormones raging up. Ez said there were a couple of times she lost her temper at the teacher and Y/n had to take over to make sure she wouldn’t get a full month of detention. Something about challenging the teacher over some sexist shit he said in class.”

Coco chuckled, and shook his head. Yeah she was all him all right. There was nothing that Leticia took after her birth mother and he was fucking thankful for that. She has been a one night thing and ended up back at his place pregnant. 

He thought his life was over at the thought of having a child. And when Leticia was born, a part of him warmed up to the idea of being a father. He was on the right track and he was going to be the best dad he could even if he never had one to begin with. 

And he thought he was going to make it. 

Until she left them, stating he wasn’t good enough to be a father with the type of lifestyle he had going. Her words played on replay that entire night, and it got to him. He couldn’t be a single dad to a four month old baby. 

Leticia wasn’t going to have a better future if she stayed here with him. He didn’t know shit about being a parent, his own mother was a shitty parent. 

Angel found them a day later with Letty screaming her lungs out and Coco being sleep deprived.   

While Angel took care of Letty, Coco took a shower where he finally made a decision. 

Letty’s mother was right, one night and he couldn’t even get through it without Letty crying the entire time. The best thing to do was putting her up for adoption with a family that would be able to give her anything, and everything she wanted and deserved. 

Because she deserved more than him. She definitely deserved more than his shitty ass mom. 

And that’s what he did. Until his mom found out and took her in. 

Then shit really went bad. There’s never a day where he beats himself up about the way his mom treated Letty or about the way Leticia spent almost her entire life thinking he was her older brother. 

He couldn’t take those years back, no matter how much he tried to make sure she was good. To have a family she deserved. Something always came to ruin everything. 

Coco cleared his throat, turning his attention back to the front row. Leticia had now joined Y/n and Ez talking to them excitedly, her eyes lit up as she explained something to Ez. And he laughed at her explanation. 

She deserved that. 

Looking at both of them took him back to the night. Noone knew about it. He kept it to himself. Not even Angel who at this point knew his darkest and sinful secrets and he wanted to keep it that way. 

That night at the clubhouse when it was boy’s night playing poker with his brothers. Noone knew that before that he had been riding through town when he ran into her. 

It had been 16 years since he last saw her. The last thing he remembers of her was Letty screaming in the background and her walking out the door with bags in each hand. 

In all honesty, he thought she would’ve overdosed by now. Letty’s mom was no saint, never really had a permanent home. Always hanging with the wrong crowd and doing favors in exchange for some sort of drugs.

But there she was, hanging off some random dude without a care in the world. He wanted to leave before she saw him, but the second his eyes met hers. He knew shit was going to come crashing down. 

A smirk appeared on her face, and when he heard Letty’s name come out of her mouth. It was like a rage of anger overcame his body and he saw red. 

How dare she say his daughter’s name just like nothing. The same one she left behind so she could still be the street hoe who gives daily blowjobs for some drugs. 

The same words she once yelled at him 16 years earlier, were the same ones he heard as he walked out of the place and hopped on his motorcycle. 

The words he tried to keep out of his mind were finally set free and she fucking did it. 

16 years later she fucking broke him again. And she knew what she was doing. 

Angel’s voice brought him back to reality and he followed Angel's eyes toward the front of the auditorium where the principal finally started the ceremony. 

Coco tried to stand still while the ceremony continued and saw as other kids were honored. He heard Angel chuckled beside him as Coco shifted once again. He couldn’t really be in one place for a long time, his nerves were getting the best of him. 

Angel nodded his head towards Letty’s direction where she was acting the same way. Shifting in her seat and constantly fixing her hair. She was nervous as well. Y/n had given up at telling her to stop, it was no use. Leticia always fidgeted in her seat, it was their thing.

A smile made its way towards his face, even at times like these they were in sync. It was like they have always been in each other's lives. And he wished it was like that. 

“And for our next award, I would like to take the time to list the many accomplishments this young lady has achieved. She has managed to become our only student to reach the highest GPA in our school. We had a bit of a troubled start when Leticia first started out with us. Lunch detention became a constant thing with Letty. I like to joke that maybe she just wanted to eat lunch with me.”

The crowd laughed, while Letty covered her face with her hands in embarrassment. 

“But after getting to know Letty, I realized that she is a passionate student. She is intelligent and she is not afraid to give the boys on the debate team a piece of her mind. Which let me tell you, I have never seen a group of boys constantly being challenged like that. She stands up to defend others and she is kind to those around her. This past year I have seen an amazing change with Leticia, not only were her grades going up but actually attending every class. She has truly made a difference not only within herself but here at this school. All she needed was a push and people to believe in her.”

Coco watched as Letty leaned on Y/n, and his heart soared at the sight in front of him. 

“So on behalf of the school and myself, we like to honor Leticia Cruz with this academic achievement award.” 

The room roared with applause as Letty stood up giving both Y/n and Ez a hug before making her way towards the stage. A folded piece of paper in her hands and from where Coco was standing he could see her hand slightly shaking of nerves. 

Next to him, Angel had his phone out taking pictures as Letty received her award and shook hands with the faculty staff. Coco never took his eye of his daughter, taking in the pride he felt in that moment. He’ll just have Angel send him those photos later, he didn’t want to miss anything.

And watching his daughter march up on stage with a sense of confidence, this was it. This is what he wants for her and no one around him saw that Letty wouldn’t be able to achieve this with him in her life. She was meant to be out of his life for the better. Like it was planned 16 years ago.

The room became quiet when Letty reached the podium. Placing her piece of paper in front of her, she let out a deep breath. 

“Uh, when Mrs. Rivera approached me a couple weeks ago about writing a speech, I instantly said no. I’m not a big fan of crowds even if she threaten lunch detention.” Letty looked around, feeling every eye on her as the crowd chuckled. 

“But my guardian made me realize that I should be proud of my accomplishments, to be able to take this moment in and she also threatened to ground me. And she is kinda scary so-” Letty smiled at Y/n, who shook her head.  

Letty continued her speech, not sounding as nervous, “I want to thank Mrs. Rivera, for not only taking the time to push me but to be able to give me a second chance. Most people take a look at me and instantly decide that I shouldn’t be able to achieve certain dreams or be even be given a second chance. I was given a second chance, not only in school but at home too. I want to thank Y/n, ever since I’ve met her she's been the rock I never had but needed.”

Coco watched as Ez wrapped his arm around Y/n and shook her gently to congratulate her. 

“She’s been the mom I’ve never had and I know we go at it sometimes but I’m thankful to have you and be able to just talk to you. You’re my mom and thank you for taking that role and taking care of me.” 

Letty looked up from her paper as she searched the audience in front of her. Coco leaned against the wall, and held his breath knowing what was coming next. Angel cleared his throat, as he looked at anything besides the teenage girl in front of him. 

His eyes met hers, and he saw the shock go through her body. She gasped quietly but the microphone in front of her picked it up and even from where he was standing he could hear it clearly. He could feel her eyes searching his body, and he knew she was making sure his injury wasn’t as bad as everyone made it seem. He was covered up though, his scars were there but no one will be able to see them. And he wanted it that way. 

Letty stood still, her eyes never leaving his. It was a few seconds but Y/n managed to notice that Letty’s attention was taken away and turned around to see what Letty was looking at. 

When he finally took his eyes away from Letty, he immediately met Y/n and he could see the tears gather up in her eyes. They weren’t expecting to see him anytime soon or if he even was healed enough to walk around town.

Shallowing the lump in his throat, Coco managed to take away his eyes from the beautiful face he had missed all these months and when he saw the tears stream down her face, he knew he couldn’t take it anymore. So he painfully broke eye contact and turned to Angel as they walked out of the auditorium. 

A smile reached his face when he heard Letty continue her speech as if nothing happened and continued to thank Ez for helping her with her homework, along with other teachers. 

That’s my girl.

Tagged: 

@carlaangel86​ @xnarca​ @bellamyblech @royale-trash-slytherin @hgs2018 @imagines-and-preferences1216 @i-just-feel-gr3at @sweet-bumble-bee @plentyoffandoms @technicallyvirtualmilkshake​ @poetsheart @onelovesr @docsangel​ @may114​ @glimmerglittergirl​ @whovianayesha​ @trulysucuubus @laricebabe

[fresh-outta-jams]

Plastic Heart - Part 21

Namjoon x Reader Author: Admin Mo Summary: When you get the highly-anticipated BTS dolls for Christmas, your life takes a turn in a way you never could have expected. Note: Hey, so I know it’s been like a literal YEAR since I’ve worked on this, but I wanted to give you guys some more content and wrap up the story. This may or may not be the last I write of this. I’m not sure, but I was kind of winding down to the end of this when I was still actively working on it anyway. Keep your eyes peeled for the Epilogue. Warnings: None? Word Count: 2k

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

A few months passed and your birthday was rapidly approaching. Namjoon was in a panic. He didn’t know what to get you. He’d get you BTS’ new album, but you already had it. He couldn’t get you the BTS Funko Pops because then, you’d just have more living toys running around your already-chaotic apartment.

Jin, currently, was in the kitchen baking a cake. He’d become human a few nights before, and just in time to learn how to make cake before your birthday. So, he was practicing. At the moment, he was putting a crumb coat on a lemon cake, as he’d learned from the internet.

“Jin, I don’t know what to get her.” Namjoon said, pacing around the kitchen. “She’s everything to me and I don’t even know what to get her for her birthday.”

“She will love whatever you get her, I promise. She loves you to pieces, Joon. It’s your first time celebrating ANY birthday, let alone hers.”

Namjoon took a breath, nodding. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“He IS right.” Yoongi piped up from his seat in the other room. “You’re overthinking it. Just go to the store and pick out something she’d like. A new sweatshirt or some movies or something. She’s not picky.”

“Or!” Hoseok ran into the kitchen, followed by Jimin. They were still only a foot tall each, but they were looking to change that as soon as possible. The remaining four had agreed to turn one by one, though, as not to overwhelm you with new human roommates. Plus, you were still looking for a bigger apartment to house everyone in. Your cozy little one bedroom was already too small for the four human inhabitants you had so far.

“You could make her something! You know, something from the heart!” Hoseok continued.

Jimin nodded. “I know she’d appreciate that.”

“That’s a good idea…” Namjoon thought, rubbing his chin. “I don’t think I have the skill to make anything, though…”

He was going to continue, but there was a knock on the door. Namjoon walked to answer it. When he pulled it open, Melody was waiting there, holding a reusable shopping bag full of champagne bottles.

“Oh, hey Melody, come on in.”

“I’ll be quick. I just have drinks for the party tomorrow. Figured I’d drop them off because I’m gonna be a bit late.”

“Yeah, of course. You can just set them on the counter.” Namjoon pointed back towards the kitchen, where Jin was still diligently working.

Melody stopped at the sight of him, staring for a long time. Namjoon chuckled a little at her reaction. You had mentioned Melody was a Jin fangirl.

“H-hi. Have we met?” Melody asked, brushing a piece of hair out of her face.

Jin looked up at her with wide eyes. “Um, no, not yet.” It was technically a lie. He vividly remembered the night when she, Ella, and Luna had slept over and he’d been in Melody’s perfect hands all night. “My name is Jin.”

Melody was stuck, staring at him with stars in her eyes. So distracted by his handsome face that she didn’t even notice Hoseok and Jimin quietly sneak back to your bedroom. “I’m Melody.”

Seizing the moment, Jin stepped forward and took Melody’s hand in his, kissing the back of it. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” She stared for another long quiet patch, her cheeks bright red, before he finally remembered her task. She set the champagne on the counter, giggling through her embarrassment and the butterflies fluttering around in her stomach. “Um, well, I’ve gotta go, uh, do homework. See you guys later!”

She rushed out the front door, positive if she spent one more second with Mr. Handsome, she’d explode.

“Smooth.” Yoongi noted, saluting Jin. “Well done. And nice fake name, by the way. Aren’t we supposed to be throwing people off our scent?”

“It just slipped out!” Jin retorted. “She’s...beautiful.”

“Can we focus here? The party’s tomorrow, and I still don’t know-”

“Tell you what, let’s go out shopping right now and pick out something for your girlfriend. I’ll help. I think I have excellent judgement.” Yoongi stood up from his chair and slipped on his hat and mask.

“Good idea.” Namjoon nodded. He checked his phone real quick before slipping it into his pocket. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Yoongi nodded. “Jin, don’t burn the place down while we’re gone.”

Jin laughed. “No promises.”

***

You got home about an hour later. Namjoon and Yoongi were still out. You stopped at the mailbox outside and brought in the one thing inside it: a single envelope that said it was from your Aunt Matilda. She was your favorite aunt, the one who had inadvertently sent you on this whole journey to begin with. If it wasn’t for her, you wouldn’t have your amazing boyfriend at all.

You sat down on the couch to open it, but were interrupted by a stubby little arm poking at your ankle. You reached down and lifted Koya onto your lap, petting his little head.

“How was your day today, Koya? Did your uncles take good care of you?”

“Of course we did, (Y/N),” said Tae. “We’re the best uncles ever.”

“Indeed you are. How silly of me.” You chuckled. “Do you know where Namjoon is?”

“He and Yoongi went out.” Tae answered, climbing up onto the couch. “To do some ~secret shopping~...”

“Oooh, secret shopping, huh?” You raised an eyebrow, chuckling as Koya got comfortable, already asleep on your leg. “Sounds interesting.”

You opened the envelope and pulled out not only a note written in your aunt’s gorgeous cursive handwriting, but also a necklace. It had a black chord, a blue crystal dangling from the pendant on it. You admired it for a moment before putting it on, and then you unfolded the note to read it.

“My dear (Y/N),

Happy Birthday! I am so proud of you. You’ve grown into such a beautiful young woman. You are more powerful than you know. I see so much of myself in you and I’m beyond proud to call you my niece.

The necklace I enclosed was one I owned when I was your age. It served me well, and I hope it will serve you also.

I see so much greatness in your future. I hope you have fun on your next trip around the sun.

Blessed be,

Aunt Matilda”

She was cryptic, but she always had been. You smiled and folded the note, letting your fingers drift to the necklace hanging around your neck. Maybe you were going crazy, but you swore you felt it vibrating faintly.

While you were thinking about it, though, you heard a key in the door, and it opened, revealing your beautiful boyfriend and Yoongi, each of them holding a handful of bags.

“Aaah! Baby, close your eyes!” Namjoon said, and you laughed, lifting your hands to cover your eyes.

“They’re closed.”

“Okay, good. I’ll be right back. Stay put.” He said. You heard his voice as he walked past you. You heard him rummaging around a bit in the other room, and then he returned, his large hands gently removing yours from their spots in front of your face. When you could finally see him again, he was crouched down in front of you, the softest look in his eyes.

“What?”

“Nothing, I just missed you.” He replied, taking your face in both of his large hands and kissing your forehead gently.

You laughed. “It’s only been a few hours.”

“I know.” He motioned for you to get up, so you did, and he engulfed you in a hug, Koya cuddled between you. You snuggled deeper into his broad chest. Never did you think this would be your reality, but it was. You were dating the sweetest, kindest guy in the entire world, and the fact that he looked and sounded like your bias of seven years was just the icing on the cake. You couldn’t wait for your birthday and all of the birthdays after it, as long as you had Namjoon by your side.

***

The next night, all of your friends came over for your birthday party. Jin had made a beautiful cake, and there was plenty of pizza, pop, and alcohol to keep the good times rolling. Namjoon doted on your every want and need, making sure you were happy and well-cared for on every level.

“Namjoon, I am FINE. I don’t need anything else.”

“Okay. Just checking. It’s my girl’s big day after all.” He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer, kissing your forehead.

“Happy birthday!!!” Ella called, walking into the apartment with presents and a few bags of chips. “Let’s get this party started!!”

Yoongi set up a speaker and started playing the party playlist he’d put together, and you started dancing with the others, bopping around the kitchen. Hoseok, Jimin, Tae, and Jungkook were all in your bedroom with Koya, but you hoped they were having a good time, too.

It looked like Jin and Melody were hitting it off. You weren’t surprised. Melody had been a Jin stan since the dawn of time, so although your Jin didn’t look EXACTLY like Seokjin of BTS, he was as close as she was ever going to get, probably.

Namjoon watched you happily dancing and smiled to himself. So much had happened since he met you. He remembered a time not so long ago when he’d been a foot tall and made of plastic, hopelessly crushing on someone who didn’t even know he was alive. And then there was the fateful day where Taehyung sneezed and changed your whole lives. He’d been standing on your dresser, trying to calm you down. He’d been so tiny then, he reminisced, laughing softly. He had no idea what was in store for him, then, the giant world he was destined to join.

He wanted to be your boyfriend so bad that he’d manifested an entire new life for himself. One where you and him could FINALLY be together, and he couldn’t imagine things any other way.

“You okay?” You asked, gently tilting his face up towards you.

He was sitting in a chair, taking a little breather and staring at you with a familiar look on his face. “Of course I’m okay. Why?”

“You’ve got your thinky face on.” You laughed, moving his arm so you could sit in his lap.

His arms snaked around your waist and he rested his chin on your shoulder. “Just thinking is all.”

“About what?”

“You. It’s always you.” His deep voice murmured, his chest rumbling softly as he said it. “Happy birthday, baby.”

“Thank you.” You kissed the end of his nose and then his cheek, right on his perfect little dimple.

“Cake time!” Jin declared, lighting the candles. He was eager for people to try his baking.

You stood up from Joon’s lap and walked over to the lit cake. Joon followed, lacing his fingers through yours.

“Make a wish,” he whispered, squeezing your hand.

You mulled over it for a second and then you smiled, leaning forward to blow out the candles in one puff. As soon as the smoke started to rise, the necklace your aunt had given you glowed. You stared at it in shock, unsure of what it meant. It was then that the door to your bedroom opened, and a life size pink-haired Jungkook peeked out. He tentatively walked towards the kitchen, followed by Jimin, Tae, and Hoseok, all of them human.

“(Y/N)...” Ella asked, staring at them. “What the fuck did you wish for?”

“Noona, something weird happened.” Jungkook said, happy tears welling in his eyes. He pulled you in for a giant hug, which you gladly gave him.

“Yeah, you don’t say.” You giggled.

“I’m gonna be busy, aren’t I?” Luna laughed, shaking her head.

“I think we all are.” Yoongi added.

“What’s happening?” Melody asked.

Namjoon rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s a long story…”

Tagged:  @coolcat494, @ffantasylandd, @feed-my-geek-soul, @ayoo-bangtan, @xxqueenwxtchxx, @cap-lu20, @finninpoposu, @coldbookworm, @sitkafay, @daniawinchesters21, @okaysoplshelpme, @zamirayinyue13, @douseeme16, @thetofuartist,  @iie-wakarimasen​, @lilgaga98​, @catbugsugarpea​,  @demonic-meatball​, @backtonormalthings​,  @kbowen9

[ghosttotheparty]

cotton candy skies always look better in person

8. also on AO3 chapter seven

The way he said it in the text, you’d think Lucas has only drawn Jens once, but the truth is, he’s drawn him several times. Not that he’d tell him that, of course.

There’s a doodle from the cafe, and the one he did before he tossed the napkin, which was too wrinkled for his liking. There’s also the sketches of Jens copied from photos Lucas has of him, one of Jens’s silhouette against the sky, one of Jens smiling bashfully, one of Jens pretending to pose like a model. (Lucas had said, “Oh, perfect, you should try for Vogue.”) He’s also added some of his own touches to some of them, colouring Jens with abstract colours, lightly tracing music notes around his head like a crown, drawing sunflowers and daisies and roses around him.

Again, not that he’s ever planning on Jens, or anyone for that matter, ever seeing them.

Every sheet that he draws Jens on, every sheet that ends up covered in little sketches of him, is ripped out of his sketchbook and folded before being placed between the pages of his dictionary on his desk (which he really doesn’t even know why he has; he’s never used it for anything except storing secret drawing).

As he places the dictionary back on his desk, his door swings open and a head pops in, scanning the room until his cousin’s eyes land on him.

“Milan!” Lucas says, exasperated. “What did we say about knocking?”

“Sorry,” Milan says, clearly not. “Uh, I have some friends coming by. They should be here in a bit if you want to meet them before your daily jaunt.”

“Jaunt…” Lucas whispers to himself as he slides the book in all the way. “Yeah, sure.” He turns to face Milan and sees that he’s holding himself up as he leans into the room, one hand on the doorframe and the other on the knob.

“Cool! I’ve got one friend, I think you’ll like him, he’s an artist too.” He’s speaking rapidly, visibly excited. “He did the uh… You know what, I’ll let him tell you.” Before Lucas can respond, Milan is gone, the door shut behind him.

“Okay,” Lucas says after staring at the door for a second. He jumps on his bed, pulling his phone out of his pocket and throwing himself onto his back, the thud loud around the room. The room is quieter than usual, his window closed to keep the cold out, but keeping the city sounds out as well. He can only faintly hear cars outside, covered by the window and walls, and the hum of his heater. (And Milan singing loudly in the kitchen but Lucas ignores that.)

Bored, he opens his chat with Jens and scrolls up to read their past messages.

A message from Jens reads:

My grandpa’s visiting so I’ve locked myself in my room

When he first read it, Lucas had considered asking why he didn’t want to be with his grandpa, but decided against it, replying Sounds lonely. What are you doing? to which Jens responded with a photo. The picture is of his leg, wrapped in dark fabric and his foot covered with a canvas ballet shoe, propped up on a wooden bar attached to the wall. The message under it read This, homework, and playing guitar for my sister. At the time, Lucas had smiled, typing Nice, lame, sweet. But now he opens the picture, raising the brightness of the screen and zooming in to see how the muscles of Jens’s leg twist, to see the contours of his leg as Jens points his foot. He wonders if Jens would ever let him take a photo of him doing ballet. It would make a great anatomy study. But it might sound like… something else, Lucas realises, clicking out of the picture and dropping his phone as his face flushes.

He pushes himself up, grabbing his satchel from the floor next to his bed, and stands, putting his phone in his pocket again, making his way to his desk and grabbing a thick sketchbook and several pencils and small brushes, tucking them into the bag with a small watercolour palette. He stands back and scans his desk, scouring it for anything else he might need. He tosses in an eraser before closing the bag.

He hears the front door open and a boy’s voice call, “Hello?”

Milan yells back, “Robbe!” loudly, and Lucas opens his door, looking down the hall to see a brown-haired boy wearing a beanie greeting Milan, smiling as Milan pecks his cheeks. The boy, Robbe, Lucas assumes, steps through the threshold as Milan hugs the boy behind him, a tall boy with white hair. He steps past and follows Robbe to the living room, Robbe reaching behind himself to hold the boy’s hand. Another boy steps in, a boy with curly hair and a big smile, and hugs Milan before he’s pushed out of the way by another, a boy with brown skin and short hair. He’s pretending to cry as he and Milan embrace each other.

“I missed you so much,” the boy sobs and Milan laughs as the curly-haired boy shakes his head and follows Robbe to the living room.

“You know you can come to see me whenever right?”

“Oh, be careful with that,” the boy states, dropping the act, and he pulls back, pausing so Milan can kiss his cheek. “I might just move into Robbe’s room.”

“You’re too late, it’s taken.” Milan looks back, seeing Lucas, and nods, gesturing for him to come forward. “My cousin’s moved in.”

Lucas grabs his bag before moving into the hall, dropping it to the floor by the front door.

“Moyo,” the boy says, and Lucas shakes his hand.

“Lucas.”

“What are you doing outside? Come in,” Milan says, leaning out the door, speaking to someone Lucas can’t see, and Moyo steps to the side to watch Milan.

“Sorry, I’m texting my mom,” a familiar voice says, and somehow Lucas’s heart drops and flies at the same time. “How are you?”

Jens steps through the door, a hand on Milan’s shoulder, and kisses Milan’s cheek as Milan kisses his.

“I’m alright, sweetie.”

Jens tucks his phone into his pocket as Milan shuts the door behind him and looks at Lucas, his eyes widening as he does a short double-take, but before Lucas can greet him or smile, Jens is holding his hand out.

“I’m Jens.”

Lucas shakes his hand hesitantly and furrows his brow at him. Jens doesn’t respond, his face blank.

“Lucas.” He gives Jens a tight smile as Milan turns to them, and Jens smiles back, the look on his face, his demeanour, unfamiliar, and kind of unnerving. Jens lets go of his hand and steps past him, following Moyo.

“Cutie, isn’t he?” Milan asks, seeing Lucas’s eyes follow Jens.

“I— Yeah. Yeah, he’s pretty.”

“Sander, Lucas is an artist,” Milan says as they enter the living room, and the white-haired boy looks at him, smiling and raising his eyebrows. Robbe’s leg is strewn across his lap, and Sander’s hands run up and down it as Robbe tosses his arm around his shoulders, running his fingers through his hair.

“Yeah?”

Lucas nods, glancing at Jens, who is sitting on the floor, and smiles.

“What do you do?” Sander asks.

“Uhm…”Lucas sits across from them on the floor. “Portraits, mostly.”

“Aren’t those really hard?” Moyo asks from his spot on the sofa.

“Eh, depends.” Lucas shrugs. “I also do some landscapes and stuff.”

“Have you ever done any live studies?” Sander asks.

“I’ve done, like, drawing people in front of me,” Lucas says. He can feel Jens watching him speak, and the air feels tight, tense, but none of the other guys seems to notice. “I’ve never done a nude study. I’d like to, though.”

“We do those at school sometimes, they’re fun.”

Lucas nods.

“You’ve probably seen one of Sander’s pieces, Lucas,” Milan says, and Lucas looks at Sander, confused. Sander is laughing softly, looking away, and Robbe pokes his cheek. The others are laughing, looking like they’re teasing Sander. Lucas can see Jens’s smile in his peripheral vision. “Sander, tell him!”

“Ahh…” Sander shakes his head, adjusting his seat on the sofa. “You’ve been down by the canal right?” Lucas nods. “You know that...giant mural of a face—” Robbe snickers next to him, “—it kinda looks like it’s coming out of the wall?”

Lucas thinks for a second before he remembers it, a mural of a boy’s face, breaking through the brick wall, the break shaped like a heart. He remembers staring at it for a while, wondering about the story behind it.

“No fucking way.” Lucas’s jaw drops as he smiles, and Sander nods, grinning bashfully. “That was you?”

“That was him,” Robbe says fondly, leaning over and kissing Sander’s pink cheek.

“Oh!” Lucas looks at Robbe’s face, really looking at him for the first time. “Oh, shit!” He points at him, realisation dawning on his face. “It’s you! I thought I recognized you from somewhere.”

“Yeah,” Sander says as the boys all laugh. “My model.” He pats Robbe’s leg and Robbe gives him a look.

Lucas catches Jens glancing in his direction at the words, but ignores him. He zones out for a second, his eyes trained on the coffee table in front of him, the awkwardness between him and Jens becoming overwhelming.

“Do you guys want anything?” he says, accidentally interrupting Moyo. “Water, beer? I think we have cola?” He looks at Milan for confirmation and Milan nods.

“Can I have a cola?” Sander asks, and Lucas sees that his and Robbe’s legs are now tangled, Sander’s arm around Robbe’s waist nearly pulling him into his lap.

“Beer,” Robbe says, looking at Lucas as he stands, looking ta Moyo.

“Same.”

“Aaron?” Milan asks, and the curly-haired boy looks up from his phone.

“Uh, beer. Thanks.” He shoots Lucas a smile, and Lucas looks to Jens, trying to act normal.

“Oh, I can help you carry everything.” Jens uses the coffee table to push himself up and Lucas nods, turning to the kitchen.

“What about me?” Milan says behind him.

“You live here, I’m not hosting you.”

The door shuts behind him and Jens, drowning out the boys’ snickering and Lucas can feel Jens’s eyes on him. He ignores him, going to the fridge and pulling out a soda can and a beer, setting them on the counter before reaching in again. He doesn’t plan on talking to Jens. After all, they’re strangers now.

“Lucas.” Jens’s voice is low and rough.

And just like that, Lucas’s vow snaps like a taut rubber band.

“Is there a reason we suddenly don’t know each other?” he says, his back to Jens as he pulls out another beer.

“Look, I don’t…” Jens trails off and sighs. Lucas pulls out two more beers and slams the fridge shut, turning around. His lips press together as he looks at Jens, raising his eyebrows and tilting his chin slightly. They stare at each other for a second and Jens’s shoulders drop, looking across the room at Lucas but looking like he’s looking up at him.

“Why don’t I know you?’ Lucas asks, and Jens doesn’t answer.

Sudden anger flares in Lucas and he looks away, tossing his hands.

“Whatever, Jens,” he says, resigned, and he turns to pick up the can and bottles on the counter, managing to pick up the bottle opener next to them, before turning back to Jens and stepping forward. He shoves a bottle into Jens’s hand, and apparently, no matter how angry Lucas is, Jens’s touch still brings sparks, because their fingers brush and Lucas nearly jerks his hand away, feeling like he’s been electrocuted.

“Lu, just—”

Lucas’s heart flutters at the nickname, and he pulls the kitchen door open, stepping into the living room.

“—to Noor?” Aaron’s voice says.

“We’re friends.” Moyo sounds exasperated, and all the guys hum, cocking their heads at him.

“Are you dure?” Milan says as Lucas leans in front of him, handing Sander the can and Robbe a bottle.

“I’m out,” Lucas says, nodding as Moyo says “Thanks,” after taking a bottle and the opener from Lucas’s hand. “I’m gonna try and paint before it rains.”

Jens takes his place on the floor, reaching up as Moyo passes him the bottle opener.

“Ooh, have fun,” Sander says, wincing as the can cracks open.

Lucas forces a smile and waves to them, leaving the room, not looking back. He snatches his bag from the ground and his jacket from the hook on the wall, and then swings the door open, calling “It was nice meeting you!” He gets a small round of “Bye!” in response.

If he had looked back while leaving the room, he would have seen Jens’s eyes following him, his bottom lip caught between his teeth, the beer bottle shaking in his hand.

[charlotine]

Have You Ever Heard of ADHD?

The first time I heard the word ADHD, I was in secondary school. I had to see the teachers, my classmate would tell me. I just got diagnosed ADHD. She’d never focus in lesson, always scraped average grades and everyone would gossip about her. What’s ADHD? I’d ask my friends. It’s what all the delinquents and stupid people have, they’d joke with a giggle.

As a child, I was always described as smart. I asked questions about how the world worked and persisted until I’d reached a full understanding of the topic. On top of that, I was the firstborn, a girl in an Asian household, so I grew up very traditionally. My parents worked a lot to provide for me in this foreign country we’d moved to, so I was often left alone. My parents would know to leave the PC or TV on because otherwise, I had a bad habit of wandering. Sometimes it’d just be to the landlord’s apartment, sometimes it’d be to other people’s houses (obviously quite bad seeing as I was 4-8).

In primary school, I was the weird Asian kid. In fact, the only Asian kid. Per year group there was at least one or two Asians and one black person in my school. But I was weird, I struggled to fit in with my peers because nothing they did made sense to me.

My behaviour and how different I was proved to be enough ammunition to bully me. I’d watch TV sometimes, to try and figure out how to interact with people my age. Adults always seemed easier, because I was cute and smart. I remembered watching how a boy had pulled down his friend’s trousers on TV and they’d laughed, so I did the same to a girl in my class with the blue dress, and she screamed. I didn’t know, I’d wail to the teacher, I didn’t know it was wrong, please don’t tell my parents. 

Eventually, I reminded myself I was different from other kids. How? I didn’t know, but I just did. So I taught self to be quiet and recluse, no matter how bad my mind would shout, because I wanted to be liked. Needed. I was so quiet some people would forget that we’d been to school together all our lives. I learnt to be quiet, because the few instances where I did have friends, I didn’t know how to control my exuberance. It was either hot or cold for me, and I was already worried enough about being ostracised, so I taught myself to be quiet.

I began to hyper-fixate on books and reading from age 8-11, because I had no friends. Or because I hyper-fixated, I had no friends, but growing up, I bitterly assumed the former. I’d read during break and lunch hours, and during lessons if I could; I could roughly get through two 500 paged books a day. I finished the Harry Potter series in 4 days. Every time I would stop, I would feel like my chest was crashing in, and I’d feel that all-consuming isolation and darkness in my heart again. My reading age was on par to a high schoolers by the time I was 9, partly because my dad began handing me adult crime novels.

The teachers would all describe me as smart, but lacking in effort. I’d astound them during class hours, but they’d have to put me in a lower set because once I’d leave the classroom, I wouldn’t exert energy into the subject. I rarely handed in homework, and I’d attend my detentions and read a book because I didn’t know how to explain that I’d forgotten. Everyone would lie and say the same, and I knew they wouldn’t believe me anyway.

The first time I heard the word ADHD, I was in secondary school. I had to see the teachers, my classmate would tell me. I just got diagnosed ADHD. She’d never focus in lesson, always scraped average grades and everyone would gossip about her. What’s ADHD? I’d ask my friends. It’s what all the delinquents and stupid people have, they’d joke with a giggle.

By the time I started secondary school at 11, my issues all but seemingly disappeared. I always held the best grades in English, Science, German, amongst others. I’ve never given this high a grade to a 12 year old, my English teacher would say with teary eyes. I called all my friends to read your work to them, and I wanted to ask permission to photocopy your work because I want to keep this with me. It’s a truly beautiful piece. 

It’s because she’s Asian, my classmates would say dismissively. They couldn’t compete against an Asian, being smart was expected of me. Things like schoolwork were easier for me, somehow.

I’d always turn up to class with innovative and original projects, shocking all the teachers pleasantly because no one had ever in their entire time of being a teacher. When everyone would turn up with paper drawings of a hastily drawn house labelling the French verbs, I’d turn up with a large painted box with 3D figurines. Miss, she’s Asian, my classmates would say. We can’t compete with her when it’s in her blood. 

After a teacher would issue a project, my mind would be hyper-fixated. Make a project, she’d say. I don’t care what medium you use, but it has to relate to the verbs we learnt in lesson today. I’ll see you after half term break. As soon as I’d get home, I’d need to start the project otherwise my heart might just give up. I‘d neglect tidying my room, my social life, my personal hygiene, my sleep, my other projects and eating because I need to do this project mum, you don’t understand. My mind was in hyperdrive, I couldn’t rest because this project was my world, my reason for air. 4 days later, and I’d have a few days left of half term and I’d only eaten maybe 2 small meals the past few days.

 (Why can’t you be normal? My mum would plead.

Eyes downcast, I’d whisper, but mum. This is my normal.)

 We’re concerned about her, my mum would say to Jenny the therapist. She can be the loveliest person one minute, and the next she can be a whole different person. And she’s not eating again, I think she thinks she’s fat.

She isn’t eating? Jenny would frown. The rest is just hormones, but I think I need to explain to your daughter the negative side effects of anorexia again. 

I did think I was fat. I’d look in the mirror and wish to be somebody else, just not me, but I didn’t starve myself. Not intentionally, anyway. But, I’d frown, how do I explain to everyone that sometimes I just forget how to take care of myself? How, sometimes, some things were more important than taking care of myself?

Your daughter is very, very smart, my teacher would say with a smile. She reminds me just exactly why I’d decided to be a teacher — she excels in French, German, Psychology, all my subjects! You should be very proud. 

Ah, my mum would look at me with watery eyes, thank you, thank you.

The lesser pieces of homework, I’d forget about until last minute, but no one would ever believe me. How did you explain that if it didn’t send your mind into hyperdrive, that it’d disappear? I’d go through the week care free, and then my friend would message me at 9PM at night and then I’d remember. During those times, I’d skive off school the next day to get out of it because I didn’t know how to explain that I’d simply forgotten to a teacher when everyone would lie and say the same.

Your daughter hasn’t turned up to lesson this week, my teacher would say with a frown. We’re very worried about her, she said she’s going through a hard time, and even in lesson she never seems to focus. 

Really? My mum would look at me with watery eyes, I didn’t know. She, ah, told us she went to the school this week. 

First Jenny said anxiety, then depression. Anak, my mum would say. Tell us what’s wrong so we can help you. You’re so smart, but you’re wasting it away. You know me and dad want you to make something of yourself, so you’re not suffering like us. But I’d taught myself how to be quiet, and I didn’t know how to explain. What was I meant to say?

 (Mum, I can’t focus on things and it goes right out of my ears and I don’t know why, no matter how hard I try to listen. Mum, I couldn’t sleep last night, because I really needed to finish researching the Cold War and Buffy the Vampire Slayer and I couldn’t stop, and that’s why I didn’t get up for school in the morning. Mum, I can’t go to school today because even though I’ve known about our speaking test for 2 weeks and it’s all I can think about, I couldn’t revise. Mum, I can’t focus on this thing right now, because all my mind can focus on is Henry VIII even though we haven’t done him in history for 6 years. Mum, I know you gave me all of this month to clean my room, but then I’d have to pick everything up, put it into order, change my bedsheets, hoover the floor, and the thought of all that was too overwhelming for me that I just couldn’t start, but I’m not lazy, I swear.)

 Instead I’d say, mum, I think I’m just sad. I fell out with my friends last week, I’d say hollowly, and I just feel sad. 

With hardened eyes, she’d tell me to prioritise yourself, anak, friends come and go, and the only person you can depend on is yourself. 

My mum never remembered my friends names. I loved all my friends and every single person meant the world to me, but I’d cycle through them in the span of 6 months. I’d go through friends and friendship groups, and my mum would smile at all of them and say, what happened to Natalie? What happened to Lily? in our native tongue.

I hate them, mum, I’d say bitterly. They were using me, too. 

With disbelieving eyes, she’d laugh. Everyone is always using you. Why can’t you just be happy? Why can’t you just read a book and be happy?

 (Mum, I can’t stop counting the lines, I have to make sure that they follow the pretty pattern in my head that make it look inexplicably real to me, otherwise I can’t, and then I realise I haven’t been paying attention to the words at all.)

Instead, I’d shrug. Books are boring now, mum. 

My relationships were intense with everyone. No matter the longevity, I’d feel heartbroken for every single person. I’d be inconsolable for days. If you want to die so bad, my sobbing mum would say with my lined wrist in her grasp, just tell me and I’ll do it for you.

Have you heard of hyper-mania? Sarah, the first, would inquire with a tilt of her head.

No, I’d shake my head.

Rivotril, aripiprazole, lithium, and alprazolam for anxiety attacks, Sarah would write. We think it’s bipolar disorder and anxiety disorder. They often have comorbidity.

I feel sorry for you, my aunt would say. You’re only 15 and you have to take so much.

Setraline, alprazolam and lithium, David would write. Due to the last two suicide attempts, we think it’s borderline personality disorder and anxiety disorder. Her mood swings are too frequent. 

She’s only 16, my dad would say gruffly. Why does she hate being alive so much? It’s the meds, they’re ruining her.

I made friends with a girl with ADD in college. She was a daydreamer and had to sit extra classes. Oh, I’d laugh. It makes sense, you’re always losing track of conversation. Then I dated a boy with ADHD; that’s why I struggle so badly in school, he’d explain to me. Oh, I’d reply. School has always been easy for me. I can help you go through your notes. 

In college, they’d tell me I shouldn’t have been a year behind. Not to show any blatant favouritism, my teacher would say with a conspiratorial smile. But unlike some of your other classmates, you’re one of the few who don’t really need to be here in remedial GCSEs.

I’d take the compliment and thank him with a nod. But why can I not focus? My mind would plead. Why is it that I can never sit still, why is it that I need to be talking or using my phone to function during lectures? Why is it that I can’t learn the same way everyone else does?

But I’d learnt to be quiet, after a while. My parents had told me I was attention seeking and that there wasn’t anything wrong with me. How could there be? I was pretty, I could make friends easily if I so wanted, and I was smart. In the homeland, anak, my mum would tell me with a scathing look. The mentally disabled people are in wheelchairs, you don’t have any mental illness. You just want there to be, and it’s all in your head. 

 (I wish I hadn’t lived, I’d whisper to my brother in the hospital. This would be the third time, and not the last.

Huh? What did you say? My brother would ask.

I said, I screamed, I wish I hadn’t lived.)

 Why did you do it? The third, Jamie, would ask, after the fourth, the fifth. Did you plan it?

Everything was spinning out of control, I’d reply. And I needed to escape. I wanted to disappear. I didn’t plan it, but it made sense at the time. 

So you didn’t want to die?

Contemplatively, I’d tell him I don’t know, but maybe. 

Hmm, would be all he’d say for a moment. How do you feel?

I feel empty a lot. Like I need something to fulfil me so I won’t feel like dying today. Even when I try to sleep at night, I can’t, because there’s so many things that I need to do. Like go for a long jog, bake a cake or write as long a story as I can write. I used to have a drinking problem, I’d tell him shakily. Back when I was 14. It was the only way I could get to sleep at night. Everything that I do to myself needs to be intense, so it can break through the monotony. I struggle in school, I do, I’d plead with him. Everyone looks at my grades and they don’t see it, but it’s hard going in and doing work, when I can’t sit still and be focused. 

Hmm, he’d say.

I have sex a lot, I’d tell him. I don’t like forming attachments to people because they always leave, so it’s always different people. Sometimes... I’d hesitate. It’s not safe. 

What do you mean?

They’re strangers I meet on the internet, I’d whisper. I can’t do it at my home because of my parents, they’re catholic and believe in chastity, so we go to their house. Or their cars.

Hmm, he’d say. Why?

Why what?

Why do you do this to yourself? You’ve mentioned before that you dissociate during sex and find no pleasure in doing so, so why?

I... I’d say truthfully. I don’t know.

Jamie would ask about my sex life. My parents would say I’d indiscriminately have sex with men and women too often, and they were scared for me. He’d ask about drugs, and my parents would say they didn’t know, but that I was easily influenced. He’d ask about school and friends; my parents would say I was very smart, but lazy. They’d inform him that I argued and fell out with my friends often, and had a penchant for the short term. He’d ask how I was like at home; my parents would share a look, and tell him how I could be two different people sometimes. Lovely, my mum would say, and other times horrible and a stranger to us, my dad would finish. She can be sweet often, my mum would tell him, and other times she’ll be so angry she trashes her room, my dad would finish.

 (What’s it like, I’d ask my boyfriend. Having ADHD?

It’s like being a magpie. You have one thought, but the other is too shiny, and the next is always shinier. Your thoughts are always racing, conversation topics are always changing, you can’t stop talking, and people say you’re annoying. Sometimes, I’ll have that nyan-cat song stuck in my head on repeat. It’s like needing subtitles when you watch a movie and the Wikipedia page up, too, because you can’t focus. It’s like the way I can never find the right tab, because there’s always more than 50 open on my phone. It’s like having a long list of things you really need to do, but no matter how much you know this, you can’t do any of it. It’s like, when I was 5, I’d say swear words in school all the time. It’s like always being late to everything, no matter how hard you try. It’s why I get angry at you a lot, he’d tell me. And why I can never remember what you last said to me. It’s like being a normal person and drinking 10 energy drinks, but you don’t need the energy drinks. 

Oh, I’d frown. I understand what you mean. And I did. I really did.)

 Finally, my third psychiatrist would say to us, have you ever heard of Attention-Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder?

[sparklyandchic]

🦋 MINI MIND MAKEOVER 🦋

okay i started the idea for this mini little mind makeover when i broke up with my boyfriend in like january. instead of being sad or angry, i wanted to be grateful for this time and take it as an opportunity to make life better for myself. then quarantine happened, so some of these are related to things i’ve learned since that started. either way, these aren’t all concrete things to do for your mind; some of them are just ways of thinking or pep talks. but if you can find one little piece of information or thought that makes you a little bit happier for a moment, that’s all i can hope for!

5-htp: okay first off- please ALWAYS consult your psychiatrist or medical professional before taking a supplement! taking 5-htp with, for example, serotonin-increasing medications can lead to a fatal illness called serotonin syndrome. personally, i started taking it because i had been on 10 mg prozac for a few months. it definitely dulled a lot of my anxiety and had a lot of positive aspects to it, but it dulled them almost too much to the point where i felt apathetic and detached from myself and the situations i was in. i was in a very unhealthy relationship and felt like i needed my mental clarity and “overthinking” processes back in order to identify what i was feeling and how to deal with it. i felt a lot more “sensitive” after coming off it, which was actually really welcome for me at first, but then it sort of dropped off into withdrawals. i was having constant panic attacks and crying very often. after a while, i was debating going back on prozac, but remembered i had taken 5-htp before. 5-htp is an amino acid that is a direct precursor to serotonin being produced in the brain. when u eat turkey, tryptophan is converted into 5-htp which leads to your brain producing serotonin, thus why you feel calm and happy afterwards. after taking 5-htp for just a few days, ranging between 200-300 mg per day (again, do your research, ask your doctor, and start small) i stopped crying constantly and really felt this sense of calmness and wellbeing but without the detachment and apathy i felt with prozac. i could still think clearly but didn’t feel overly sensitive to every emotion which arose. personally, it is really a lifesaver and really does make a noticeable difference.

cognitive behavioral therapy: ive tried therapy a million times. well okay, like 5 or 6 different therapists. at its worst, therapists told me i needed to use my sexual power as a woman in order to get what i wanted from men, told me i’m bad at socializing and should do group therapy, said my mom shouldn’t have encouraged me to “be myself” when i was younger because it made me less likeable than if i had conformed to normal societal standards of dressing. i had gone to “therapists” who claimed to be trained in CBT, but when i told them about my experiences with dissociation, the only feedback i got was to “take more baths.” while going through a few unpleasant experiences in my personal life, i decided i should try CBT once more, but like the real kind. i found an ivy-league educated licensed psychologist (NOT a “licensed clinical social worker” who doesn’t even have a psychology degree!!) who SPECIALIZED specifically in cognitive behavioral therapy. just after the first session, i was so elated with my experience. as opposed to just telling me that i needed to be more normal or more kind or a better person, she tried to identify WHAT was making me feel that way about myself in the first place. she pointed out the positive things i do and reassured me i was kind, good, and deserving of good things. she pointed out many aspects of my situation that would have taken me days or weeks to come to on my own. i’ve realized my hubris isn’t that i’m not socially acceptable or not perfect enough, but its just that i tend to THINK that i am these things despite having no evidence of it. so, over time with therapy, my positive self image about who i am as a person has grown and strengthened and i dont just randomly feel like a bad human being anymore lol. moral of the story, if you wanna do therapy but it keeps sucking, dont give up. go to a legit psychologist, find someone who specializes in the type of therapy you’re seeking, and also be vocal during your sessions. stand up to your psychologist when they continually push a narrative onto you, and explain why you don’t agree with it. sometimes it’s their job to try different narratives to see what fits, and if you just passively let them say what they want to, you’ll never find the truth of your experience! it’s a communal effort! therapy isn’t usually a magic cure-all where one session fixes everything that goes awry in your brain. but if you find someone who knows what they’re doing they can in fact really help your thought processes become less twisted up and more clear and healthy.

meditation and mindfulness: a few weeks ago i felt anxious and overly driven to get things done to the point where i spiraled into a space of guilt or a panic attack over not getting enough things done. meditation can be so so helpful here. it’s better to spend an hour sitting and doing nothing, but doing it peacefully and then calmly moving on to doing something else, than to spend 5 hours stressing yourself over every single thing you need to get done and how much time you’re wasting. the things that need to get done will get done. another thing that i’ve realized and say to myself a lot is: “focus not on doing all things perfectly, but on doing the small things well.” by this i mean, stop thinking about the 20 things you need to get done and how it all needs to be perfect, but instead take your time with the task that presents itself as most beneficial right now and focus on enjoying it and giving your whole self to the process. for example, stop thinking about how you need to clean your room, your closet, donate clothes, take a shower, take out the trash, read, workout, etc. think to yourself; “which task would bring me the most joy right now?” if the answer is taking a shower, then take that damn shower. bring your speaker into the bathroom, scrub every inch of your scalp with shampoo, scrub your feet and behind your ears and your neck with body wash, brush the conditioner through your hair fully. you may end your shower with 19 other things to do, but god damn if you can’t enjoy a single one of them and be present for it, what’s the fucking point! go light a candle and bask in its glow, go make your bed and huddle up in your neatly arranged covers, go take a long bath or a thorough shower, and be proud of and content with that today. 

relationships, with others and yourself: okay, if you missed the memo, my ex-boyfriend sucked. like genuinely was a bad person. he was a drug dealer, so that’s red flag number 1 (which i ignored of course), he hadn’t graduated high school (he was 18, i was 20, he was supposed to graduate the last semester but refused to do the work and ignored me and his mother when encouraged to do it, which is uhh definitely red flag number 2 which i also ignored), he habitually did not show up for dates on time or lied about what he was going to do or what he did (literally everything he did was a red flag and i rlly ignored all of it). the worst part was how he responded when i worked up the courage to speak to him about it. if we had agreed upon a time for our date but he showed up literally 8 hours late, he would blame it on me because i “could have called” him, or that i was “demanding too much of” him, or that i “should have said something earlier so now [i was] just dragging it out because it already happened.” basically, whatever narrative he pushed at me, i eventually gave into. i’ve dealt with gaslighting in a relationship before and a part of me knew what was happening to me, but a part of me also kept having hope for him, kept empathizing with him, kept wanting to believe in him. after a bit too much time, i finally realized you have to trust yourself, empathize with yourself, and believing in yourself over anyone else. at first i felt bad for him not being able to graduate because i had my own struggles with high school and getting work done. i thought he may have issues but he deserves someone to be there for him because i wanted someone to be there for me. despite the pain and stress he was causing me, i sat around crying over him because i cared about him and tend to over-empathize with people close to me, whether they deserve it or not. my therapist told me something that at first i did not understand, but over time came to grasp in its entirety: “some people do not deserve your love or kindness.” after our first session, my homework was to “consider when you are being kind and when you are being taken advantage of.” this made me realize that what feels like your instinctual nature to be nice to others, can in fact be a self-sabotaging unfair action, depending on the other person’s response. i might be dishing out a lot right now, but bear with me. think of it this way: you regard an action as a “kind action”. you might think “kind actions” include: forgiving someone for large mistakes, putting someone’s needs over yours, sparing them some change when they ask for it, listening to the problems they are dealing with every day. BUT when their actions include not forgiving you for minor mistakes, not giving a sh*t about your needs or considering them, not caring how much money they take from you and how much money you need to have around, or habitually glossing over your problems because it doesn’t benefit them to care, THEN those actions you performed are NOT “KIND ACTIONS” anymore. the act of continuing to give them leeway is now the act of being taken advantage of. the act of giving them money is now the act of being taken advantage of. the act of buying into their story at the expense of your sanity, is now the act of being taken advantage. basically, all i’m saying is START PUTTING YOURSELF FIRST AND TRUSTING YOURSELF WHEN YOU FEEL SOMEONE DOESN’T HAVE YOUR BEST INTERESTS IN MIND. 

ending thoughts: i know quarantine is difficult right now. the desire to grow contrasted with the inability to move. maybe try and follow that old 2008~ quote; “bloom where you are planted”. you might not be able to reach the goals you thought you would during this time. you might not be able to run a marathon or make a bunch of new friends or wake up at 6 AM to workout or redo your bedroom or get a rhinoplasty or join a gym or get an internship. working towards productivity might be unrealistic right now. but you can work everyday towards becoming the woman you want to be, mentally. you can work on learning to be content, learning to make the best with what you have, learning to appreciate the little things, learning to slow down. these are all qualities that i for one want to have just as much as i want to be attractive or successful. if you can’t enjoy success, what’s the fucking point! life is on pause right now, take this moment as a gift and consider your internal world and what parts of your mind need a makeover. there are horrible things happening in the world right now, do what you can to help, but if you’re safe and healthy then be grateful for the things you can learn from this difficult time. take it slow, but keep moving forward! 

[woo-san-shine]

Our Way

ateez college au

Premise: You and your best friend from high school move away to a university 3 hours away from your small hometown. You find yourself meeting a strange cast of characters along the way that will help you find your way throughout your freshman year.    

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: none, filler chapter 

Author’s Note: Hi!!! I know it has been literal months since I’ve posted, but university was a lot more overwhelming than I thought it was going to be. But I do have a lot more free time now, so hopefully I can get this story back up and running! Some things about this au will change (mostly texting images because I have a new app for that lololol). Thanks~ 

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Chapter 8

It was a few hours later and I was struggling with my portrait.  I had said goodbye to Mingi, who had told me he was going to go take a nap when we got back to the dorm.  Sooyoung wasn't in the room when I got there, so I decided to put on some music and try to work on sketching Chaewon's hair.  During class, we had taken pictures of each other for reference, so I had my phone propped up against my pillow while I lay on my stomach on my bed.  I am trying to redo her right eyebrow for probably the 8th time when I hear the door open.

"Jaaaaaaemin, are you in here?" Sooyoung's voice enters the room before she does.

"Up here," I say as I turn around to see Sooyoung taking off her shoes in the doorway.  I am also pleasantly surprised to see Mingi standing behind her.

"Oh, hello again," I say to him.

He waves up at me from behind Sooyoung, who turns quickly to look up at him.

"Again?" she questions.

"We somehow ended up in the same English class," I say as she looks back and forth between Mingi and me, brows slightly furrowed.

"Huh," she says while walking over to her desk. "What are the odds." Her tone implies this as more of a statement rather than a question.

"How was your nap," I ask Mingi. He was just kind of standing in the middle of the room awkwardly while Sooyoung was emptying her bookbag at her desk.

"Uh, kinda short," he says to me under his breath. "I had just laid my head on the pillow and before I know it, there was a knock on my door."

"Hey, I didn't force you to come over here," Sooyoung says shooting a look over to us. "I just wanted to see if anyone was home.

Mingi shyly stares down at his shoes.

"So Jae, tell me about your first day," Sooyoung says to me.

"Oh, I mean, it was nothing special. Had a few classes, already have an assignment due on Wednesday, a professor may or may not be out to get me. Ya know, the usual."

"What?" She questions.

"Oh wait until you hear this," Mingi says urging me to keep talking.

There is an ever so faint scowl on Sooyoung's face as her eyes dart from Mingi's excited smile to my slightly worried one. I tell her about the mug incident and that scowl quickly turns into a face full of rage.

"Are you kidding me, Jae?! She can't do that to you!"

Mingi has to almost hold her back as she threatens to go find Ms. Lee and teach her a lesson.

"Really, Soo," I say with my hands outstretched, trying to calm her. "There's nothing I can do now."

"What a bitch, though," she says, folding her arms.

"Uh didn't you want to work on our Calculus homework?" Mingi says, clearly trying his best to steer her away from any more talk of beating up Ms. Lee.

I go back to my sketch while the pair start on their homework. For awhile we all work in silence, me sketching on my bed and the pair sitting on the floor on their laptops. The silence slowly starts to turn into muffled chatter, and then into Sooyoung's high pitch giggling. I peek over the edge of my bed to catch a glimpse Sooyoung doing an over-exaggerated laugh to whatever Mingi had just said.

"Wait, Jae, where are you going?" Mingi asks.

Neither of them had noticed me climb down from my bed and head for the door.

"Uh, I'm just going to go for a walk," I say to the pair. If I was being honest, I couldn't take the sound of them cooing over each other any longer. "I'm not really getting anywhere on my portrait," I say gesturing to the sketchpad I had abandoned on my bed.

"Don't be out too late," Sooyoung says to me with a wink. She then proceeds to grab Mingi by the chin and direct his gaze from me back to her.

I roll my eyes as I walk out of the room and shut the door. It was probably for my own good to leave. I really didn't know where I was going to go, but I was thankful that I grabbed my headphones before I left. I slip in my earbuds and make my way out of the dorm.

It was early evening as I walked across campus. The warm air felt nice on my skin in contrast to the cold, air-conditioned dorm room. I find a nice grassy area full of park benches under a canopy of trees that was across from one of the dining halls and plop myself down in the shaded area beneath a large tree. I watch the many students walking by for awhile. A few others were sitting amongst the grass like I was. I turn my music up a little louder and lie back on the ground, staring up at the sky between the tree branches. I close my eyes and let the sound of the music coming from my headphones fill my mind.

I don't know how long it's been before I feel a presence standing over me. My eyes flutter open.

"AH, what the hell?!" I yell in shock. I jolt upward, tangling myself in my headphones.

"Woah, Jaemin! It's me!"

I am just about to throw an upward kick in the direction of the figure before I recognize the voice.

"...San?"

"Ha, yeah. Sorry if I woke you," he says quickly. "Here let me help." He kneels down next to me and helps me untangle my headphones that had gotten stuck in my hair.

"Thanks," I say a little flustered. "Uh, sorry I almost roundhouse kicked you."

"Hey, it's okay. I don't blame you," he says with a chuckle. "I kind of snuck up on you anyway.  Mind if I sit?"

"Oh no, of course not," I say. I pat the ground next to me. He sits down, placing his bookbag on his other side. "Did you just get out of class?" I ask.

"Yeah. A Monday night-class is going to be rough," He says while running a hand through his hair.  

I had only just realized that it was now dusk. 

How long had I been asleep? 

"I'm lucky you found me here, I might have slept out here all night," I say to him, laughing at myself.

"What were you doing out here?" he asks me, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, I needed a break from sketching. And my dorm room was getting a bit... crowded."

"What were you sketching?"

"A portrait for one of my classes."

"You have homework already?" he asks, sounding surprised.

"Yeah, unfortunately," I sigh.

I look around and notice that we are virtually the only ones on this side of campus. The sun had almost fully set, and there were fireflies lazily floating above the grass. Lampposts along the sidewalk had begun to glow brighter as the sun sank lower and lower into the horizon.

"This is a nice spot you found here," he says, glancing around in the growing darkness at the surrounding trees.

"It reminds me of home," I say a little quietly.

"Do you miss it? Home, I mean?" he asks looking over to me. Even in the dark, I can see his silvery-gray eyes staring at me intently.

I pause for a few seconds. "I miss my parents."

San looks forward again and I can't quite read his expression. "What are they like?" he asks, turning back to gaze at me.

It takes everything in me to not mindlessly stare at his face like a dumbass, but I somehow find the words.  "Well, they had me a little later in life, so they're a bit older.  I'm an only child, so It was always just the three of us.  They both work really hard and I know I don't thank them enough for all that they gave me..." I trail off.

"Tell me more," he says.

I want to sarcastically say that there's really no need for him to pretend to care about my life, but the genuine look of interest in his eyes and stops me.  "Uh, well we lived in a little house that was lowkey in the middle of a forest.  We all loved being outside, I remember that being a big part of my childhood.  I think that's why I gravitate towards places like this," I say, gesturing around to the canopy of trees.  

"I wish I grew up away from the city," he says, looking around to where I gestured. "It’s always just so... loud"

"It's not as great as it sounds. Why'd you think I moved so far away for college?"

"Well, why did you leave?"

I pause. "Well... as much as I liked the area I grew up in and miss my parents.... I just needed to get out."

"Get out?"

"Yeah... there was just nothing there for me. Nothing compared to all the opportunities there are here in the city. I just didn't want to get stuck." I stare at San, who is looking at me with his silver eyes. "I don't know if that makes any sense. Sorry for kinda rambling I-"

"No no don't apologize!" he says quickly, placing a hand on my shoulder. "I like listening to people talk. About anything."

I try my hardest to ignore the tingling sensation that lingered once he removed his hand from my shoulder. "Well, I appreciate it."

We go back and forth for a while, him asking me questions about my life at home, my history with Sooyoung, my hobbies, etc.  Then the topic turned to music.

"Wait, wait, wait.. you like EXO?" San's eyes widen.

"Yeah! That's what I was listening to before I fell asleep."  

"I saw them live the last time they went on tour!" he says excitedly.

"Woah, that's lucky."

"It was a great show... do you mind?" he asks, pointing towards my headphones.

I give him a confused look as he grabs my headphones. He places one earbud in his ear and reaches to place the other in my ear.  His hand lingers slightly, then moves to tuck a stray piece of hair behind my ear. My eyes dart from him, to his hand, to my phone that he is now holding.

Say something, you idiot.

"Can I play a song?" he asks, a soft smile on his lips.

"Uh.. yeah of course." 

He scrolls for a little bit and then plays one of the other EXO songs I had saved.  I watch him as he starts to hum along to the melody.  

We stay like that for a while, each choosing a few songs as we watched the remainder of the sun sink beneath the trees.  Although we were just sitting there listening to the music, it didn’t feel awkward at all. 

“Well I guess we should probably get going,” he says, checking his watch. 

The sun was fully gone now. 

“Thanks again for waking me up,” I say as I get up from my seat on the ground. 

He chuckles and stands up, grabbing his bag. “It was really no problem. We should do this again sometime.” 

I raise an eyebrow. 

“This tree,” he nods to where we had both just been sitting. “It could be a nice spot to relax, bring friends here, just hang out ya know?”

I try to ignore the ever so slight annoyance at the word “friends”. 

Did you actually expect anything? You just met. 

“No yeah, of course,” I say quickly.  

We both say our goodbyes and head in the opposite direction of our dorms. 

“Hey wait!!” 

I turn to see him jogging back to me. 

“I want to make sure you get home okay, could you like, text me when you get back to your dorm?” 

I pause. “I mean I would if I had your number,” I say with a slight smirk. 

He blinks, and then laughs. “Oh, you didn’t notice? I put my number in your phone while I was changing one of the songs,” he puts air quotes around the last five words.  

I gasp, mouth fully hanging open. 

“It’s under Choi San fox emoji,” he says casually. 

“You- you really-” I stutter. 

He laughs again. “Goodnight, Jaemin.” 

...

When I finally get back to my dorm Sooyoung is in bed with the lights off, scrolling on her phone. 

“Where were you? I was just about to call the police or something.”

“Oh, I just went for a walk,” I say casually.

“Well next time tell me where you are, okay?” She says all this without looking up from her phone. 

“Yeah, of course,” I say as I crawl into my bunk, only to find the unfinished sketch I had abandoned earlier.   

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[chronicallylatetotheparty]

After the Fall Ch. 3 Veil

LoganLight, AO3

"Why are you avoiding her anyway?" Kagami asked suddenly.

Adrien looked up from his homework in surprise, "W-what?"

As Adrien had struggled to slowly build a new normal she'd noticed him avoiding the girl currently at the other end of the school library.

"Marinette." She was the reason Adrien was here instead of with Nino, whose girlfriend Marinette was best friends with. The three of them had looked  puzzled when Adrien declined their invitation to study together. Kagami, however, had expected it. "Why are you avoiding her?"

A shadow passed across Adrien's face as he looked down. " . . . Shame, I guess . . ."

"You feel ashamed of yourself in front of your crush? Is that why you started stuttering in front of her?" Kagami waited for him to deny any romantic feelings for Marinette as he did every time it came up . . . But he didn't.

Adrien blushed, still avoiding her gaze. "She needed help and I . . . couldn't help her. Every time I look at her the guilt ties my stomach into knots. B-besides, I asked and she said she wasn't interested . . ."

Baka.

Whether that was directed at Adrien or Marinette she couldn't say.

Wait.

"So, Marinette is the mysterious partner you went on about?"

Adrien looked up at her with wide eyes. "What? No, she- She's not- I . . ." Confusion clouded his face. "Marinette." He let out a joyless laugh. "I'm such a-"

Kagami grabbed both sides of his face as his breathing accelerated. "Adrien Agreste, you look at me. Focus on me." She was not about to let him break down in the middle of school again.

As he regained his composure she tried to figure out what exactly had set him off.

Marinette?

Adrien let out a slow sigh, his gaze softened. "Thank you, Kagami."

She swallowed at the vulnerability in his eyes. "You're welcome."

"Bro, you okay?"

Kagami jerked her hands away from Adrien's face. Nino, Alya, and Marinette were standing beside the bookcase's far corner. The latter giving her an odd look. All three appeared worried.

With good reason.

Adrien stared at them like he didn't know who they were.

Marinette stepped forward. "Adrien, are you alright?"

"He's a bit shaken up right now." Kagami stood up. "He should be good in a-"

"I can speak for myself," Adrien's soft reprimand surprised her, but she nodded. He stood and turned a shaky smile to his friends. "I'm fine. Just had a- A moment is all."

Marinette seemed to deflate a bit at his deflection, "Oh, okay."

Nino walked up to Adrien and gave him a brief hug before holding him by the shoulders. Y'know you can talk to me about anything, right? I'm here for you, dude."

Adrien's smile became sadder and a touch . . . pained? "I know, Nino. I need some time to sort things out. I . . . Thank you," he turned to take in the others. "All of you."

Kagami noted that Nino didn't look convinced.

"A-anyway, free period's almost over. We should get back to class." If anyone else noticed Adrien changing the subject they didn't say.

"Right, bro. See you after school?"

"Father wants me back at the house for another session."

"Oh, well, text me when you're done, yeah?"

". . . Sure."

As they left Kagami briefly caught Alya's eye. She had a calculating look about her. The same look Kagami sees when she's trying to fit seemingly incongruous puzzle pieces together. It's then that Kagami realized she'd been uncharacteristically silent, not saying a word throughout her friends' short exchange.

"Of course it's you," Adrien whispered to their backs.

Kagami glanced at him in confusion and wondered if she imagined the bitterness in his voice.

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

"Plagg? Plagg!"

"Hey, kid."

Adrien reached out and pulled Plagg to the boy's chest, cradling him.

"P-Plagg," the boy's voice broke as tears began to fall. "I- I thought I'd never- I missed you!"

Plagg purred as Adrien let out his sorrow in shuddering sobs. The small vibrations lending a familiar comfort to the boy. They stayed that way for a while, simply taking in the other's presence.

". . . W-what are you doing here?" Adrien finally asked.

"Can't a kwami visit his kid?" Plagg grumbled, flying out of the boy's hands. "You got any cheese?"

Adrien smiled at Plagg's singular focus and his body relaxed as though a weight had lifted from his shoulders. "There should still be some in the mini-fridge."

Plagg swooped forward with a cry of, "Come to me, my precious Camembert!" Earning another brief smile.

Adrien wiped at his eyes as Plagg gorged himself.

"It's been so long!" Plagg bemoaned. "Can you believe I only get one wedge of Camembert every day? Oh, the indignity!"

"Well, Luka's family isn't as rich as us and that stuff is expensive," Adrien pointed out reasonably.

Plagg stopped chewing. "What?"

"I'm just saying that the Couffaine's aren't as well off as-"

"Not that!" Plagg zoomed to a stop in front of Adrien's face. "Luka! How did you know about Luka?"

Adrien blinked at him. "I . . . don't know? The first time I saw Panthera I just . . . recognized him."

". . . What happened after Weredad took the ring?"

Fear flashed across Adrien's face before he forced his features into an expressionless mask. "I fell off the tower . . . And woke up on the ground."

Plagg's ears drooped as he gazed at the boy. "Have you recognized anyone else?"

". . . Marinette is Ladybug," Adrien responded softly. "And . . . I know who Rena Rouge and Carapace are . . . Plagg, why didn't- Why can I see them? It's so obvious, so clear."

". . . Your system got quite the shock. Basically it jarred certain ideas you held dear. Having the foundation of your core beliefs shaken makes you question things. Previously unthinkable notions become not so unbelievable. Once you had all the evidence your subconscious made the connections."

"So anyone can just look at us- Them and-"

"No. You have hands on experience with a Miraculous. You know the ring, you know Luka, you know what traits the wielder of Destruction should have."

"He's the perfect choice," Adrien bit out bitterly.

"No, you were the perfect choice! And I don't care what Fu or Wayzz or you have to say about it!"

Adrien shook his head in denial of his words. "It's been three months. Three months of akuma attacks and Panthera hasn't been brainwashed, c-captured, petrified, or . . . or killed. Not even once."

"That's because she's being careful!" Plagg shouted. "Much more careful than she ever was with you!"

Adrien flinched. "It . . . It doesn't matter. They work well together. She l-likes him, I can tell . . ."

". . . She misses you, you know. She won't call Panthera any nicknames and every time you come up she only has good things to say."

"Liar," Adrien accused half-heartedly.

"Fine. Don't believe me." Plagg crossed his small arms. ". . . How're you dealing with the secret identities thing and finally figuring out Marinette is the 'love of your life', anyway?"

Pain flared in the boy's eyes and he breathed thickly. "Not- Not well . . ." Plagg swore he could hear Adrien's heart accelerating as the boy tried to keep the flood of emotions at bay. "I thought knowing who was behind the mask would be freeing, that it would bring us closer. Instead I feel like I never really knew her . . . She said she loved me. But it wasn't true. She was lying. All of it was just a ruse to protect her identity . . . From me! Wh-who does that? Was it really so terrible that I would find out!?"

Adrien curled up on his bed and squeezed his eyes shut as the tears started up again. Plagg settled into the boy's hair. "Ladybugs tend to follow the rules to a fault, kid. They can't help themselves. It's got nothing to do with you and everything to do with her."

Adrien made no response as Plagg began to purr. They both knew that he would be gone by morning, like a pleasant dream. But Plagg was here now, and for right now, that was enough.

Ch. 1  Ch. 2    Ch. 4  Ch. 5  Ch. 6  Ch. 7  Ch. 8  Ch. 9  Ch. 10  Ch.11  Ch.12  Ch.13  Ch.14  Ch.15  Ch.16  Ch.17  Ch.18  Ch.19  Ch.20  Ch.21  Ch.22

[inkskinned]

literally just a dumb unorganized list of school tips

source: im a grad student. i’ve had a lot of school. also i’m adhd & mentally ill and require +8 organization. this is mostly directed @ college students, but maybe high school students can use it too, fuck, idk, it’s been forever since i was stuck in that hell hole

just say “professor” either ur using the correct title for a person (will make them feel good) or you’re giving them a bigger title on the assumption they deserve it (which will make them feel good) and also prevents having to ever i mean ever use their names

talk at least 1 time a week in each class, aim for 1 time a day. even lecture classes. i fucking hate talking in front of more than 5 people, so what i would do is prepare a question about the hw/etc (even if i didn’t need it answered) to ask the professor after class so they saw me and got used to me and saw i was invested in their class. about 89% of teachers - if they see you try, they will pass you. i mean it’s literally that easy. i know people who went from like a c- but because they legit tried, their grade got bumped up to a b-. 

if u have to bring a laptop, pre-download the required material/screenshot it, and then turn off your wifi. it’s too easy to not listen.

physical writing will always give you more information recall over typing.

nobody cares about stupid shit anymore trust me they don’t remember that you were accidentally locked in a towel out of your room bc they have their own dumb shit that happened.... in college all the “cringe culture” turns into “god i wish that were me” culture ... wear ur onesie to a party trust me you make +800 friends and 799 of them will be girls telling you you’re adorable and they’d die for you

about locking urself out.... if ur like me and can breeze past post-it notes placed in obvious areas, don’t be a dumb bitch and rely on post-it-notes. while most schools offer 1 free lockout, dont rely on it - it once took 2 hours before someone could get to me. i was in a towel, which meant no phone. so like. anyway, what i do now is i put something on the handle of the door i have to open/unlock. i can’t just open the door w/out the thing falling down and making a loud “you dumb bitch unlock the door before u shower” sound. 

this works for all important don’t-forget it things. other obstacles i’ve used to remind myself to do something include: putting a chair with my wholeass posterboard in front of the door, an entire printer with a single piece of paper that just read “for the love of god check to be sure you have that essay”, and a recycling bin i kept forgetting to empty. guess what bitch finally emptied the bin once it was between me and a swift exit!

no offense and like the whole “it’s the best years of your life!” thing is great but in reality everything goes better scholastically when you treat it as “i came here to win, not to make friends.” i still did make friends, went to parties every weekend, was popular enough i’d be invited to several on one night - but i came there to win. when i put my scholastic life and my mental health first, i went from a 2.0 to a 3.98. yes you can, bitch.

you’re spending the money. don’t squander it. trust me when i say i know plenty of people who breeze through, bc you often can. but like. don’t. challenge yourself bc like. talk about an investment.

if you hate your major, change it. don’t make your life something you can’t stand. on that note, do NOT agree 100% to a track until you have at least some experience in the field. i cannot tell u how many ppl i know who got their whole masters/phd program done, walked into their new profession, and were like, Oh Fuck, I Can’t Live Like This.

college literally offers so many free things and if you’re not taking advantage of them whenever possible i get it but like. try to take advantage of them. this is everything from your gym (which probably has free classes dude) to clubs to like. sober events. these sober events are so ... fuckin good dude i’ve made mason jars with little plants in em... bee aviaries... candles.... go to the free stuff

oh ps on free stuff i wanna say about 4 of 5 days there’s free food on campus just look for things like job fairs, presentations, or discussion groups. also while you’re there at the job fair like. u know, go to the job fair in earnest

i took off 2 years to work and also to just. recover from my bullshit. and it took me 6 years and 3 schools to get my bachelor’s. it wasn’t easy but bitch i lived. there’s no such thing as “too long” to graduate if that’s truly what you want to do.

if on the meal plan, eat as clean as you can the first week. then introduce each part of the cafeteria’s possibly-food-poisoning-creating foods one at a time. give @ least 2 days between each experiment so you know for sure if you get sick what caused it. i literally never eat meat at school but you can still get sick off of unwashed lettuce/salad dressing that hasn’t been refrigerated properly/weirdass things you won’t even think of. this prevents like. dying in a public bathroom.

white loaf bread can be gross & boring. discount bakery section for your slightly chewy artisianal bread needs. if overstale, either toast it or dunk it into water and microwave it (unless u got an oven. use the oven if u can)

steal as many apples from the dining hall/events/etc as physically possible just do it they keep FOREVER and @ some point you’ll be like. fUCK i need a nutrition. ps if you’re keeping them in ur backpack (i wouldn’t keep more than 2) make sure to wrap w/a few paper towels so if you drop your bag you don’t get apple mush

write it all down bitch. “i’ll remember it” no you won’t. unless you are capable of remembering every idea on this list and in order, you won’t remember it. in general, if you write something 3 times, you will recall it correctly at least 80% of the time. i also read it out loud to myself, bc, you know, auditory recall

DO NOT just put your assignment at the top of your notes, unless you’re 100% sure that will work for you. in most cases, it’s much better to have a planner/agenda/place you expect to look for assignments. +7 points if you lie to yourself about deadlines and move them all up.

like not to sound too much like a DARE ad but like. if you don’t like it/don’t want it, don’t fuckin do it. the idea that “there’s nothing to do if you don’t party” is such bullshit. like i promise if you’re like “i am a grouch and want to stay in and binge netflix” about 45 ppl will show up in pjs like “bitch fullscreen it, im a grouch too.” there’s also like. the chance to just.... not overindulge. on wednesdays i have “wine wednesdays” where we sit around and drink a glass of wine while we do our hw. it’s chill and friendly instead of like. drink until u vomit. don’t feel like you either gotta slam the breaks or the gas pedal, is what i mean.

PLEASE know the signs of alcohol poisoning/overdose. most schools have a “Safety Always Matters Most” policy, which means that you can call for help w/out getting into trouble. if you think someone is in danger, act. this also goes for making sure ppl get home safe even if they’re just incapacitated, not poisoned. step in, dudes.

also just. notice when ur starting to rely on stuff too much. i’m super easily addicted to things, so i keep a healthy distance from liquor. i don’t let myself “drink to feel better” bc that’s a scary, scary thing to link to feeling better. if you or somebody u know starts drinking all the time/gets anxious if they don’t drink/drinks in the daytime .... get help. schools have counselling services for a reason.

you’re gonna get a cold/flu of some sort in the first 2 months just brace for it. in the meantime, drink vitamin c, try not to touch too many handles, and when people say “there’s something going around” believe them.

watch kaplan nike just do it 

if you can teach it, you know the material. a super good way of knowing if you studied the right way is to try and teach the material to a stuffed animal/imaginary class.

“i don’t know how to study” bitch me too the fuck. this is usually bc we’ve been taught that studying is just sitting down and staring @ ur notes. it’s not. it’s different for everyone, and you need to understand it’s 99% preventative care. if you don’t go to the class or do the homework, studying is going to fucking suck, bc you’re learning the material all at once for the first time. the place you should consider “studying” is “i’m confident in 70-90% of the material, but need to review.” do not let yourself fall behind .... just go to office hours and ask questions if ur not getting something. studying should feel like you’re remembering what you already knew but kinda forgot, not like you’ve been blindsided.

the whole “writing it down in ur own words” while u have been told this 700 times it really helps bc it means u gotta translate it through your own understanding. if you can’t, and it’s not bc the material seems too obvious to you to state in another way - ask yourself if you don’t understand the material. chances are u are missing a bit of info.

i know it’s like A Thing that Some People do but i never had the mental health points for it but i know some people just take 15 minutes after every class to review their notes. since i’m 100% early to every class ever, obnoxiously so, i try to do it before class. having the last class’s notes up in my head super helps. like. put down the phone i know you’re socially anxious me too but review those notes. chances are if u start flipping through pages other ppl will too. this is also fun bc as soon as you start this whole thing, at least one person will be like “is there a test?” no bitch there’s no test but im gonna be ready when there is!

literally so much of success is fucking posturing i could link about 800 peer-edited studies that show that when a student is expected to do well (and knows they are), they do well. like i literally didn’t change my appearance at all, never bothered to look nice (once winter hits i wear 67 layers all the time), but when i showed up after my 2 years off from school, i presented myself with the whole “i came here to win” vibe and people... really respected me? i mean in hs i remember ppl saying shit like “yeah, well, you aren’t gonna have the homework”. by the time i was in college i had an honest-to-god conversation which included someone being like “so tell me what you’re overachieving at right now” like they just expected it from me. wild.

i live by “bite off more than you can chew, and then CHEW IT” but it’s probably unhealthy. the truth is that i have a lot of energy all the time (lmao adhd!!!) and i used to get told i was “trying too hard” and for a long time (still???) i didn’t (i don’t?) know what that was, you know, bc i had a D average, clearly i wasn’t trying. it turns out i was just. putting all my energy into stuff that wasn’t making me happy like toxic friendships etc. when i decided “nope, all this energy is for me and my schoolwork”..... uhhhhh suddenly i was a golden child and everyone praised my try-hardness ... it’s a fuckt up system tbh

take at least 1 class just for fun. i try to do that every semester. it helps break up all the requirements. if you’re like an engineer and got no time or credits left to spend, try to audit your fun course.

make ur advisor love you i don’t care what it takes make them cupcakes show up to thank them i dONT CARE just do it 

the library isn’t always the best place. if i start getting anxious bc i pavlovian train myself that library=work, i find a new place to go to do hw. try to go outside if you can!!! not like where i live bc like it’s snow all the time but try. a little green really really really helps depression. 

if you’ve been in the same “Studying” place for 1 hour and haven’t done anything the chances are Something Isn’t Right. first, look @ ur body. are you not focusing bc of some pressing physical need? sometimes just taking a shower and coming back helps. are you uncomfy? are you too comfy and going to sleep? if body okay, look @ the material. do you not understand it? do you just need to switch to a new topic for a little bit? can you find a youtube video that will help you better understand it? make notes on what you don’t get so you can ask in the next class. if it’s not the material, it’s not ur bod, check the Actual Space. sometimes just getting up, going for a short walk to a new place, and trying it there actually? really works? if none of this is working.... try ur brain next. hardest to reset bc like, what, turn it on and off again? i use things like caffeine, a short workout, a nap, or a podcast all to just... give me a little boost. 

don’t be afraid to leave. i mean this about class, friend groups, and the college ur at. just get up on outta there if ur not feelin it. i cannot recommend “drop the class” enough. even if it’s a required course see if u can switch the times if u hate the professor day 3 it’s not gonna get better just get the fuCK out

don’t nap in the same position u go to sleep in, nap upside down w/ur head away from ur pillow. don’t ask me why but it works to 1. fall asleep faster 2. make sure u sleep okay at night and 3. wake up less annoyed 

on that note don’t ever do anything in ur bed in a sleeping position unless it’s genuinely sleeping in it. body will get confused. just sit up, lazybones.

when/if the library has those therapy dogs during finals week.... just go pet them make the time for it

ask before hugging people, but don’t expect a “yes”

get a backpack that fits and doesn’t hurt ur back u fuckin hippie idc how cool it is to wear ur backpack super low just don’t do it it’s not worth it

the tutoring center is a fucking goldmine.... free essay edits my dudes

bring a fan dorms are always hotter than u expect

switch dorms if u can if u realize ur in the wrong room/wrong roomate like just don’t bother with nonsense

when in doubt, follow preschool rules. tell ppl when they did something cool, just ask when u need help, and be confident even in your mistakes, because at least u tried

[thecutestvamp]

Beauty of the Dark - A Damon /OC Fic

Pairings: Damon/OC

About: With the hopes of starting fresh, seventeen year old Lucy Adams moves to Mystic Falls, the town where her parents grew up. Shortly after arriving, she discovers that the seemingly boring town has secrets even darker than the ones she carries. Lucy is forced to confront her past as she ends up tangled in the dangers of Mystic Falls. 

FanFiction Link

CHAPTER 1 - Begin Again

Wake up To sun 'Cause morning Does come

If all you can rely on is The feel of your feet on the wet floor. If all you can depend on is all movement gives you some direction then

Begin again You're no calendar You're no concrete plan Begin again Don't waste your time waiting for someone to tell you that

I sat on the edge of the bare mattress and gazed around the room. Without any of the posters on the wall or socks on the floor it almost felt like just a room. There was no sign that someone sat up late at the desk in the corner struggling over their math homework, or that they watched endless shows on Netflix while sitting on this very bed, and the pencil marks in the doorway marking height that indicated that someone quite literally grew up in this room had been painted over. 

“Lucy? Lucy where are you?” My mom’s footsteps echoed through the hall, “LU- Oh honey what are you doing in here.”

I looked at the floor, “I just. . . wanted to be in here one last time.” 

“Honey,” Mom reached out and placed her hand on my shoulder, “I know it hurts to say goodbye. But I really think this move will be good for you. For all of us.”

“You guys keep saying that, but it really feels like we’re just running away.” I said. 

“We aren’t running away Lucy. It’s just. . . this house.” Mom sighed, “Don’t think of it as running away. Think of it as moving forward.”

I forced a smile, “It will be nice to go to a school where people don’t stare at me like I have eleven heads. I mean I don’t expect to be miss popular in Mystic Falls. But it’ll at least be a fresh start.”

“Lucy honey, look at yourself.” Mom turned towards the mirror above the dresser, “You’re beautiful. More importantly, you’re kind, and smart, and-“

I cut her off by putting my hand over her shoulder, and silently examined myself in the mirror. Parents always think their kids are the most beautiful, they don’t see you the way other kids see you, or the way you see yourself. When I look at my hair, all I see is a constant state of tangled frizz due to my inability to control the brunette curls. My height left me constantly aware of how much space I take up. I knew I was better off winning my classmates over with my brain or my kindness. 

I shifted by eyes up to meet my mother’s in the reflection. Now she was truly stunning. Even with the lines and bags that started to emerge around her steely eyes, and the grey that peppered her dirty blonde hair, she was an elegant woman that exuded grace. I always wished that I could’ve taken after her, but that just wasn’t possible. I squeezed her hand, our eyes communicating what was left unsaid between us. 

“Come on, Lucy.” She patted my shoulder, “We should get going, the movers are waiting on us.”

I got up and walked down the hall to my bedroom, grabbing my last suitcase and backpack. I threw them in the back of my mom’s Range Rover, and dug my headphones out of my pocket, ready to sit back and try to enjoy the two hour drive to Mystic Falls. 

Wake up To sun 'Cause morning still comes

So move around your furniture Or put it all out on the curb And drive away to something new

Yeah, watch the skylight sink behind you and

Begin again You're no calendar You're no concrete plan Begin again

I must’ve dozed off, as I woke up to my mom nudging me. I took one of my headphones out and blinked groggily at her. 

“We’re here honey.” 

 Even if I hadn’t just woken up, I’m not sure I would’ve been able to find words. We were driving up a tree-lined driveway towards a gigantic white home. It was two stories, with six massive columns running along the front porches that took up both stories. The windows were uniform and tall, encompassed by deep forest green shutters. My parents knew my affinity for all things visual, and as such refused to let me house hunt with them, as I’d surely find something wrong with every house. This was my first time seeing my new home, and it was a true southern manor.

A genuine smile spread across my face, “Mom it’s- wow. I knew you guys wouldn’t pick something modest but . . . wow.” 

We opened the front door to find the movers being directed as to where to place the first boxes. 

“DAD!” I yelled, running towards the man standing in the entryway, putting his phone in his pocket. He had to move here a week before us due to a case he was assigned at his new firm, but it felt like it had been longer since I had seen him.

“Cupcake!” He wrapped me in a hug, and I buried my face in his suit jacket, “How was your nap on the way here?”

“How’d you know I took a nap?” I asked, pulling back. “You’ve fallen asleep in every car ride longer than an hour since you were five.” He grinned, “How do you like the new house?”

“Who wouldn’t like this house?” I exclaimed, “Where’s my room?” 

“Come on upstairs, I’ll show you.” He guided me up the stairs and towards the first room on the right of the hallway. I immediately ran and jumped on to the bed, the only piece of furniture so far. 

“Do you like it?” Dad asked. I buried my face in the comforter, “It’s even better in person.”

There were a few pieces of furniture, mainly antiques, from our old house that Mom and Dad wanted to keep, but in spirit of starting fresh they decided that we could buy mostly new furniture for the house. I had chosen an upholstered grey bed frame with a simple white comforter. It really was even better in person; it contrasted the ebony floors beautifully. 

“I’m glad you like it. I promise we’ll take you furniture shopping tomorrow, and have you feeling settled in by Monday.” Dad reached out to ruffle my hair, “Now why don’t you go grab some of you boxes and bring them up here, if you leave the movers to it alone they’ll be spending eight hours just dragging your clothes up here.” 

I laughed, and bounded back downstairs to bring some of my things to my bedroom.

I wiped a drop of sweat from my brow and stood back to admire my work. The closet in my bedroom was huge, practically big enough for me to lie down in every direction, and despite my dad’s exaggerations I would actually have to go shopping to fill it completely. I was relieved to have all my clothes unpacked, at least, as it would make it easier to pick out my first day of school outfit. 

 I traipsed back down the stairs for the millionth time today to find my parents leaning over the kitchen counter, looking at couches on one of their laptops.

 “Can we eat? I’m starving.” My stomach growled in agreement. 

“Oh honey,” My mom looked up and brought a hand to her forehead, “I completely forgot about dinner. I meant to stop by the grocery store earlier, you know what why don’t we just go now?” 

“I think it closed at eight.” My dad reached into one of the kitchen drawers, “Tell you what cupcake, I grabbed a menu from a restaurant in town the other night, why don’t you look it over and we can order carry out from there?” 

“Sounds great.” I smiled, taking the piece of paper to look over. 

 I decided on a flatbread, and in true fashion my mom ordered a salad and my dad a burger. The woman on the phone told us our order would be ready in about half an hour. 

“Where are my keys?” I asked, “I can go pick it up.” 

Mom frowned, “Honey, why don’t I drive? You’re more than welcome to come with me, but it’s dark and you don’t know the town and. . .” 

“Mom.” I interjected, “This town is the size of our old backyard, and even if I do get lost I have my phone with me. Please? I miss driving my car.” 

My mom exchanged glances with my dad, who subtly nodded and reached in his pocket to hand me my keys. I practically jumped up and down.

“Text us when you get there and when you’re on your way home.” Dad said, “Please drive safely.”

“I will. I promise.” I hugged both of them, and gave my dad a kiss on the cheek.

I took in a long breath as I got behind the wheel of my car. It still had that new leather smell. The engine let out something between a purr and a roar as I turned it on, and I closed my eyes and sighed. I was thankful for a lot of things that my parents were able to give me, but I was especially thankful for my Mustang. Not a lot of people get their dream car ever, let alone at seventeen. 

The streets of the town were abhorrently quiet for 8:30 on a Friday night. I peered at the houses as I drove past, trying to catch a glimpse of the people that were now neighbors, and potentially my future friends. One house in particular caught my eye and caused me to slow to a stop. I examined the red brick and the black door, sighed, and turned up the volume on my radio and continued on. 

 I pulled into a spot right by the door, guided by the illuminated orange sign, double tapping the lock button on my keys as I walked into the restaurant.

“Welcome to The Mystic Grill, how can I help you?” A perky girl at the hostess stand asked me. 

“Hi, I placed an order for carry out, it should be under Peter Adams?” I said.

“Oh hi hun, your food should be ready in just a few minutes. Why don’t you have a seat at the bar there and Matt will help you out when your food’s ready.” 

She smiled. I walked over to the bar where a tall boy was drying a few glasses. He had a boyish charm, with reddish blonde hair and muscles accentuated by the dark t-shirt with the restaurant’s logo on the chest. 

“Hey how can I help you?” He asked, with a smile. 

“I’m here to pick up an order for Peter Adams and the hostess told me to wait here.” I said. 

“Gotcha, why don’t you have a seat and I’ll go check on that for you, could I get you a water or anything while you wait?” He offered. 

“I’m all good thank you.” I smiled as I watched him walk into the kitchen. 

 The bar was mostly empty, save for a man drinking alone. I chose a stool a couple seats down, not wanting to be next to who I assumed to be the town drunk. He turned to look at me, and jumped a little bit as he examined me.

“Well hello there.” His eyelids lolled as he attempted to sit up straight, “New in town?” 

I rolled my eyes, “Is this town so small that you can spot a new person as soon as they walk into a restaurant?” 

“Lets just say I’ve lived here a while.” He smiled and leaned towards me, “What’s your name?” 

 I found myself at a loss for words as I made eye contact with him. His eyes were the most piercing blue I had ever seen on another human. Their iciness was only accentuated by the darkness of his hair and brows. The bartender was cute, but this man was strikingly handsome. Everything about him was almost unnervingly perfect.

“So they don’t have names where you’re from, got it.” He took a sip of the amber liquid in his glass.  

“Oh. Name. It’s Lucy.” I stammered, “I’m sorry I just- I . . .” 

“Have never seen someone so devilishly handsome in your entire life? It’s okay, happens all the time.” He took another sip, solidifying my theory that he was the town drunk, “So what brings you to Mystic Falls, Lucy?”  

The way he said my name sent chills down my spine, “I just moved here. Dad got offered a job at the law firm and my parents grew up here, so it made sense for us to come back.” 

“Boring.” He said, “I was hoping you were someone from animal control here to do something about all the attacks lately.” 

“Attacks?” I asked. “Yes, attacks. Animal attacks. This town is absolutely riddled with them.” Damon said, “Come on, do your research. You move somewhere and you don’t even do one Google search?” 

“Wow I had no idea.” I shifted my gaze to the bottles behind the bar. My thoughts were interrupted by the bartender emerging from the kitchen, carrying a plastic bag. 

“Here you are Miss Adams, that should be everything for you.” I handed him my dad’s credit card, “Is there anything else I can get for you?”

“No thank you I think I’m all set.” I said as he handed me the card with a receipt, which I promptly shoved in my pocket.

“Well in that case, you have yourself a lovely rest of the evening, and don’t be a stranger here, okay?” He shot me one last smile before walking back into the kitchen. 

 The stranger downed his glass and threw a bill on the counter as I stood up. 

“Anyways Lucy, since you clearly are lacking in street smarts, why don’t you let me take you home?” He suggested. 

“I have my car, but thanks.” I shifted uncomfortably at the blatant offer from a stranger. 

As I turned towards the door, he stopped me with a hand on my arm. “Let me take you home.” I stared into his eyes and could have sworn I saw them dilate as he spoke to me. 

“Like I said, I have my car.” I refused, “And I’m pretty sure you’ve had too much to drink to be driving yourself around, let alone another person.” 

His brow furrowed as he looked me up and down, confused. I could tell he wasn’t used to rejection, which made sense given his face. “I have a high tolerance. Let me at least walk you to your car then.”

I sighed in resignation, and let him trail me to the door. I wasn’t an idiot; I knew he was hitting on me. I’d read all the “How to tell if your crush likes you” articles in middle school, and, well, pupils dilating was in every article, right next to finding reasons to spend time with you. He was clearly way too old, and way too irresponsible for me, but I could enjoy the attention from a strikingly handsome stranger while it lasted. 

“So do you always spend your Friday nights drinking alone at the bar?” I asked. 

“Only when I just found out the girl I love has been lying to me for a long time and doesn’t actually care about me at all.” He said. 

I paused, examining his face for more clues, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-“

My car beeped as I unlocked it, interrupting whatever stupid thing I was about to say to try to fix the awkwardness. His eyes shifted from my car back to the hostess inside, who had been watching us since he first started talking to me at the bar. 

“Right next to the door?” He asked. 

“Ten minute parking.” I pointed to the sign and held up my bag, “Carry out only.” 

He nodded, “So who’d you steal this car from? No way it’s yours.” 

I opened the door and set the bag in the passenger seat, “Yes way, it is mine.” 

“Huh, your car gives mine a run for it’s money.” He gestured towards an old blue Camaro parked further down and wiggled his eyebrows, “Last change to go for a ride.” 

I felt my face flush at his persistence, “I’m not getting in a car with you. But I will give you my number.”

I reached in my purse for a pen, and scrawled my number on the crinkled up receipt from my pocket. I handed it to him, and his hand touched mine. I looked up, feeling jolted by the contact, to find him staring intently at me. His eyes were so intense his gaze was almost scary. I felt like . . . like prey. Another chill ran up my spine. 

“Cold?” He asked, “Why don’t you take my jacket.” 

“No that’s okay I’m just-“ He had already slide off his black leather jacket and began to place it around my shoulders, “How will I get it back to you?” 

“I’ll find you.” He stated, and turned to walk away from me, leaving me dumbfounded. He held up the paper I had handed him between two fingers and turned over his shoulder, “I have your number, remember?”

“Wait!” I called after him, “I don’t think I ever got your name.”

He stopped for a second, “It’s Damon.” 

 I leaned against my car, staring as he walked back to his car, and stayed transfixed as he drove away. Only after his car had disappeared on the road did I turn and get into mine. I placed both hands on the steering wheel, and looked straight ahead. 

“Damon.”

That night I drifted into sleep easily, as I was exhausted from a day of unpacking. While I fell asleep thinking of piercing blue eyes and black leather jackets, my dreams carried me away from my thoughts of the mysterious stranger I had met only a few hours prior. 

I walked away from the house with tears in my eyes, shoving the piece of paper in my pocket. I slammed the car door as I got in, and hit the steering wheel with frustration.

“You’re kidding me,” Brandon said, “He didn’t want to talk to you?”

I shook my head, “No, he wasn’t even there.”

“Oh, well he’s got to come back then, right?” Brandon asked.

“No,” I sniffed, “He’s gone for good. He left town.” 

Brandon put a hand on my shoulder, “You can still find him, Luc. Just keep looking, ask someone if-“ 

“NO.” I said, “I can’t keep looking. He didn’t want me anyways. I have to let it go.” 

I choked out a sob, and Brandon pulled me in for a hug. We just sat like that, me sobbing as I stared back at the house, and Brandon trying to comfort me. It was no use. There’s nothing that can make up for the feeling of being unwanted.

[let-me-love-you-loki]

Waking Up in Vegas--Ch. 14

Chapter 14: Send Out an S.O.S.

The Following Monday Night

Mera, Evening, 7:45 PM

           The trainer’s room was where it always was, and my things were spread out exactly as I preferred them. All my necessary tools were within arm’s reach, easy to access should any of the superstars need my help. I was never part of the scripted trainer visits—they kept me in reserve for those who were really injured. For the most part, even the fans knew that when I came to the ring, something was really wrong.

           I spent a lot of time alone in that room most nights. Sure, there were the times when someone got a little overzealous and either hurt themselves or someone else. But for the most part, I was just there to deal with general sports injuries and required stretching from their physical therapists. Right before matches, there was a steady trickle of superstars. Sometimes right after if someone just needed help with a locked-up muscle.

           Otherwise… it was just me and four walls. I kept books with me, so sometimes I would read. Sometimes I had notes or medical records to update for some of the superstars who I saw on a regular basis. Most of the time, thought, it was just my thoughts and me.

           With a major pay-per-view coming up, the higher ups were being more careful about the health of their superstars who were set to be big draws. Seth was on the books as going after the Universal Championship at Wrestlemania, so everyone was being particularly careful about his knee and his back.

           Which meant he was required to see me before and after his matches from now until Wrestlemania was over. Great, I thought, looking at the note in his medical chart. Just great.

           I thought back to the Seth I knew as a kid—back when everyone called him Colby or Brandon’s little brother. He had been so sweet and kind. In high school, he was charming and smart. He’d loved wrestling, putting on shows in his front yard with his friends, covering his basement bedroom in a thousand different names and slogans. But there had been a time—when he was Tyler Black in the ring and Colby everywhere else—when we’d been inseparable. When he’d wanted nothing more than to have me at his side, chasing that dream with him.

           We graduated high school. I went to college, fast-tracking through an athletic training program—doing homework by flashlight driving from town to town on the weekends to watch him compete. Forty-thousand dollars of debt to get a degree and a certification to do a job that guaranteed I could be with him wherever he went. Independent wrestling companies didn’t always have fantastic care for their athletes, and I was an added bonus that came along when someone signed Tyler Black. And those hadn’t been bad days.

           Crappy apartments, cheap hotels, food that was never that good and half the time cold, long drives and late nights. That had been my life from 18 to 29—eleven years of following him across the world with one company after the other. WWE had made it a little easier with better pay, a nicer apartment, more stability. But it had also created Seth Rollins. He was cocky, self-assured, and selfish. Even though he wore the same face as my childhood Colby, it had been Seth who had ripped my heart into pieces.

           Someone knocked on the door. I glanced at my watch, realized that it must have been him. His match started in forty-five minutes. Plenty of time for me to give him a decent once over to ensure that nothing was of concern before he got in the ring. And, hopefully, it could be quick enough that we didn’t have to talk much.

           I crossed the room, opened the door. Seth stood there with that annoyingly cocky look on his face, already dressed out in his gear. I fought down the pounding of my heart, the nausea that burned in my throat. “You know the drill,” I said, emotionless as he passed close by.

           He hopped up on the table, flopping on to his stomach. I sighed and rubbed my hands together to warm them. It was best to just get this over with as fast as possible.

           “Any pain today?” The words came out flat. For just about everyone else, I had a pretty good bedside manner. For Seth, it was all about getting him in and out without too many insults and tears.

           “Tight on the left. You know how it gets sometimes,” he said with a knowing something in his voice. He turned his head toward me, pillowing his cheek on his crossed forearms. “Too much strain, you know.”

           I forced my thoughts away from memories of the things throughout the years had triggered his aching back. “Tell me when it hurts.”

 Dean, Evening, 7:55 PM

           I cracked my knuckles, swung my arms to warm up my shoulders. I wasn’t scheduled until the second hour of the show, and I wanted to sit with Mera for a while. It was amazing to me that she had become so perfectly integrated into my life that her presence made me feel calm in a way that nothing did.

           As I came down the hallway, I could hear her voice from the trainer’s room. Her tone was even, yet something seemed off. She sounded carefully controlled, clipped. I knew the rules—don’t go into the trainer’s room when someone else was already there—privacy and all that. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t wait outside just in case.

           “Use the heat before and after on the back. Rest it twenty-four hours between every exertion. That means matches or workouts. You need to spread it out so that you can even make it to Wrestlemania.”

           It took a moment for the response to come. When it did, my blood ran cold. The beast in my chest roared, desperate to get into the room, to keep her safe, to protect her heart.

           “What was that treatment you used to do?” The words themselves were innocent, but I knew there was something more to his intent. “It used to work so well.”

           “Call a masseuse,” she snapped back. “That’s not part of my job.”

           Breathe, I told that primal thing inside me. It writhed in anger and sheer protective instinct. It was like it could sense her discomfort. I watched the door, wishing I could see through it. She was capable, intelligent, and stronger than any woman I’d ever met, and yet all I could think to do was to do everything I could to protect her from even the simplest pain.

           The room went quiet. I paced, the worst possible scenarios playing through my mind.

           “They never know how to do it. It’s either too much or not enough pressure. You’ve always been able to fix it,” Seth said in a tone that sounded both pouting and deceiving. “This is my big shot, Mera. Help me out here.”

           Her visage floated into my mind. I could see the way her liquid gold eyes blurred with guilt, how she might look at him with her lips pressed into a line, her face a mask of discomfort and unhappiness. I’d watched her long enough to know how her emotions played over her features, how her sadness, pain, and shame could bend her into someone that gave away her best self to cater to another.

           I knew there were tears in her eyes when she spoke. Just as I knew the answer before she even gave it. “Okay.”  

           The primal thing in my chest surprised me with the ferocity of its jealousy. It dug in, tried to drive me to bust through the door, to drag her away and remind her that she was mine and I was hers.

           It took nearly every ounce of my will to keep myself in control. My feet picked up their pacing, taking me further away from the trainer’s room. It was as much for my peace of mind as it was for her privacy. Mera was my wife, regardless of how long it had been. There was nothing within me that could distrust her.

           Seth Rollins was another story. In the last week, I’d seen my tag partner and brother in a new light—as a man who was self-centered, self-absorbed, and selfish. While I didn’t know the details of their relationship, I had pieced together enough to know that Seth had broken her heart completely. The fact that he seemed to be using their history to get what he wanted made my blood run cold.

 Mera, Evening, 8:14 PM

           I washed my hands in the sink, making sure to scrub the Icy-Hot from my fingers. The tremble that ran through them made me feel sick, stomach turning over as I tried to get myself under control. I hated the way that old feelings came rushing back with the memories of caring for Seth back when he had been Colby and Tyler. Some part of me—a traitorous corner of my heart that reveled in masochism it seemed—still thought there was some good in him, a piece of the old version of the man that I’d known.

           My back was turned to Seth as he pulled his shirt back on. The rustle of cloth and the creaking of the padded table let me know that he was up and moving. I grabbed a handful of paper towels and dried my hands aggressively, hoping to hide their shaking. As I tossed them in the trash can, I stepped over to the WWE-issued laptop with the superstar’s medical records on it.

           “Knee looks good. Heat on the back twice a day, 20 minutes each time. Strenuous activity only every other day, Monday through Saturday. Full rest on every off day until the match,” I said over my shoulder, already pulling up his medical chart. Once those directions were in his record, booking would have no choice but to go easy on him—perhaps easier than they already were.

           Footsteps scuffed across the floor. Flesh met metal, then a heavy sigh. “You know Vegas weddings aren’t binding after 30 days, don’t you? Didn’t Dean tell you?”

           The door whined on its hinges. The sound of it thudding back against the frame echoed the weight that slammed against my heart. Every fiber of my being suddenly yearned for Dean, to confess everything that I felt—the confusion and fear. I tried desperately to push away the seed that Seth had tried to plant. After all, Dean and I had already talked about having a real ceremony of some fashion.

           I felt my throat close with tears as I realized there was a ticking clock on our marriage.

 Dean, Evening, 8:20 PM

           I watched from down the hall as Seth walked away from the trainer’s room. There was a smirk on his face that made me wonder what I’d missed while I’d let my feet carry me around the backstage area. That beast inside me roared, sent adrenaline flooding my veins, screaming commands to find and protect what was mine.

           Reaching for the door, I heard her sobs. The door banged against the wall as I swept her into my arms. My fingers tangled in her hair. Silently, I swore. I’m going to slaughter him.

Tag List

@bethany99stuff-blog @houndsofjxstice @lunatictoosweet @xbutterflius-effectusx @mother-forker

[thepencilnerd]

- 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐬 3 -

➳ Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4

➳ Pairing: Mark Tuan x Reader

➳ Summary: AU! The members of GOT7 take a year off from being idols and decide to go back to school. Mark is the jerk with a temper, but what happens when he meets a girl with an attitude to match his own?

➳ Genre: AU, fluff, angst, enemies to lovers

➳ Word Count: 2.7k 

➳ Warnings: Swearing

➳ Really Really- WINNER

a/n: Masterlist & links to other parts can be found @ my main URL

Cracking the egg on the side of the bowl, I whisked in the diced carrots, chives, bell peppers, and red onions into the omelet and poured it onto the pan. It was Saturday morning and I was distracting myself from my impending doom by cooking.

“Breakfast on a lazy Saturday?” Claire yawned. Tying her bird’s nest of a bed head into a makeshift bun, she clasped her hands over her heart in an exaggerated manner. “My best friend is truly the best.” 

Laughing at her antics, I flipped the omelet and slid it onto her plate. She pressed her hands together and bowed forcefully before digging in. 

“Slow down,” I chuckled, pouring her a glass of juice. “You’re going to choke on a piece of carrot.” 

“I will die a happy fat bunny,” she said with a full mouth. Crinkling my face in fake disgust, I wiped the corner of her mouth with a napkin and laughed. 

“What time are you leaving?” Claire asked, taking a break to sip her juice. “You don’t want to be late for your study date.” 

I glared at her slightly but couldn’t help and laugh at her wiggling eyebrows. Shaking my head, I sighed and began doing the dishes. “It’s not a date, Claire.”

“Well, what time are you leaving? Hello? Earth to Y/N?” 

“I’m leaving in—” I craned my neck to glance at the living room clock. “10 minutes.”

She crammed the last few pieces of egg into her mouth and quickly got up to snatch the dishes from me. “Go go go go go-” 

“Claire, it’s okay—” I chocked through my laughter. “I’m not going to be late, don’t worry.”

She responded with grumbled words and spat out a few pieces of onions and bell peppers. She then chewed, swallowed, and then paused before resuming to talk again, now much more understandable. “Just get there early and wait while drinking some coffee. I’ll do the dishes and clean up, so go!”

Rolling my eyes, I glowered at her before changing, then was practically thrown out of my own apartment. Living at a ten-minute walking distance from the college made Claire and I grateful, but also forced us to go to classes every day, as we didn’t have any excuse not to. The only exceptions were the rare instances that we got sick or class was canceled. 

The entire stroll to campus was filled with anxiety and light panic, to say the least. Would I be able to control my temper around Mark? Was he even going to be there? Did he know I was going to be the one helping them? What if I get mad and lash out on everyone else in the group? Swallowing my worries, I shut them out and found myself already at the entrance.

The door to the coffee shop jingled open and I was surprised to see that it was pretty empty. There were a few regulars huddled in their groups, but the usually bustling weekend scenery was now quiet and calm. Greeting the cashier, I ordered 8 iced coffees and brought them to the largest group table. 

“Idiot,” I facepalmed. “What if they don’t even drink coffee?” Getting up and grabbing packets of sugar and cream, I placed them in sets along the drinks and waited. Almost immediately, the door opened and a group of guys walked in, the tallest locking eyes with me. 

“Y/N!” Jaebum greeted, the guys following him as they all walked towards the table. Everyone wore smiles and cheery grins except for Mark, of course. 

“Wow!” BamBam squealed. “You bought us drinks?”

I nodded and smiled in response, all of a sudden feeling shy for some unknown reason.

“You shouldn’t have,” Jackson wailed. 

“And she laid out the cream and sugars for us,” Youngjae awed.

Shuffling into their seats, Jaebum sat on my left and Jackson sat to my right, organizing the circle table so that the seating order was me, Jackson, Youngjae,  Jinyoung, Mark, BamBam, Yugyeom, and Jaebum. Of course, the cheeky bastards had arranged the seats perfectly so that Mark was sat directly across from me, causing him to shift uncomfortably in his seat.

“I’m Yugyeom by the way,” the new face introduced. “I was sick on the first day, so my apologies for the late greeting.” 

“Oh, it’s alright,” I smiled, grateful for his cheery and polite demeanor. “My friend told me about you guys.”

At this, everyone looked at me with their eyebrows raised in surprise; even Mark. 

“Yeah, she’s a bit of a fan.” Rubbing the back of my neck and forcing laughter, I prayed that someone- anyone- would change the topic. 

“So that means you really didn’t know who we were when you first met us?” Jinyoung asked with wide eyes. “Woah.”

“That’s so cool!” BamBam laughed. “We haven’t felt that normal in years.”

The group erupted into a warm fit of laughter that helped me relax a little bit. 

“Sorry about that, I don’t really listen to—” 

“Don’t apologize,” Jaebum assured. “You don’t have to know who we are. If anything, it feels nice when someone gets to know you for who you are, not just for what record label you’re signed under.” 

“Or how handsome you are,” Jackson added.  “Or how much money you make,” said Youngjae.

“Or your savage personality,” Jinyoung quipped.

“Or how adorable you are,” Yugyeom and BamBam said in unison, high-fiving each other but then earning a smack on the head from Mark and Jinyoung, respectively. 

“I’m glad I could help with that,” I giggled at their impish nature, but then I remembered that we still had to study. “Should we go over the lecture notes?”  

Nodding in unison, I started going over the key points from last week’s abnormal psych presentation, I couldn’t help but notice how calm Mark seemed today. He hadn’t glared at me, yet- and seemed like he was actually somewhat paying attention to my makeshift lecture. Almost as if he was refusing to meet my gaze, he never made eye contact with me for an entire hour and kept his focus glued on his notebook. We took a few breaks here and there and talked about each other’s personal lives more. Apparently, they were attending as undeclared majors and taking a few classes that they found interesting. 

Once we got to the topic of their lives the year before, I was nearly taken aback as they talked about it as if it were a live-action movie. Their idol lives sounded even more hectic and unbearable than a working college student’s; constantly being watched by the public eye, not having an inch of privacy for themselves, pushing through grueling daily rehearsals with extra training hours, and not even being allowed to do normal things like date or go out to parties. Add on the pressure of meeting their fans’ expectations and feeling as if they would never reach their own? No wonder some celebrities felt so miserable in the spotlight; it seemed like glamorized hell. 

Meanwhile, my less interesting pre-college life involved working overtime to help my parents pay rent and bills, spending weeks on end staying up late to keep up with my part-time jobs and extra homework; I even missed out on prom because I couldn’t handle any kind of large social situations or loud parties.; my anxiety always ended up getting the best of me. 

“We can’t lie and say that we don’t miss it,” BamBam said, “It’s tough, but we still love it a lot.”

Jackson and the others nodded in agreement. “I gave up everything I had set up for me just to become a trainee; fencing and a full scholarship to one of the best colleges in the world, but I wouldn’t have traded it for a thing.”

“Sometimes I really do wonder what our lives would have been like if we went to college and grew up like regular 20-year olds...” Yugyeom pondered, sipping his drink in deep thought. 

“We probably wouldn’t have even gotten to meet each other,” Youngjae responded, making the guys nod their heads at the realization.  “And we wouldn’t have gotten to watch you kick Mark’s ass on the first day of school,” Jackson chortled, choking on his coffee as Mark punched his shoulder. “Hit me again, do it—I dare you!” 

Suppressing my laughter and looking down into my hands, I blushed. “Yeah. It was-” I paused, trying to think of an appropriate word.  “—an interesting introduction, to say the least.” 

The guys started laughing again, pointing and teasing each other about their first impressions that day. Glancing slightly up to Mark, I saw that even he had a hint of a smirk playing on the edge of his lips. Taking this as a sign that I was hopefully getting on his neutral side, I felt myself relax a little. 

I couldn’t tell if it was because of the caffeine rush or how much I’d been laughing, but my face was now bright red and I was on the verge of tears. Not to mention their constant sibling-like bickering and childish insults made them the literal definition of ‘grown-up children.’

After three more hours of discussing the history and progression of psychotherapy, what typically would have been a group of mentally exhausted college students was instead a bundle of vibrant 20-year olds. Normally, I would have been completely drained and ready to knock out, especially considering it was a Saturday, but for some reason, I was much more energized and awake than I was earlier.

"Regret coming back to school already?” I asked them, scanning across their tired faces and chuckling to myself. 

“We can’t all be like you, Miss Einstein,” Jackson sighed with his hand pressed on his forehead like an actor in an overdramatized aspirin commercial. 

BamBam was practically sleeping on top of Yugyeom. “The professor is more merciful than you,” the youngest remarked in a sleepy voice, snapping awake when Jinyoung scowled at him, probably sending a telepathic message for him to wake up before he was killed in his sleep. 

“The devil works hard, but Y/N works harder,” BamBam’s voice muffled through his sweater that was now pulled over his face. 

Jaebum was the most awake out of all of us, which I found surprising considering the fact that he had been the one who had paid the most attention for the entire cram session. “How about we all celebrate our first official day of hanging out like normal people by going out for dinner?” he offered. 

The guys all eagerly agreed without giving it a second thought, then turned towards me to confirm that I was also going. “I’m not sure—” 

“Please?” Yugyeom whined. “You deserve it the most out of all of us.”

Jinyoung and Jackson both nodded enthusiastically; Jackson was clearly the more fervent one. “You took time off of your Saturday to tutor seven single brain celled idiots; it’ll be our treat.” 

“Please?” Jinyoung even pleaded. 

“You even bought all of us coffee!” Youngjae pouted. 

“Your roommate should come too,” Jaebum encouraged. 

“Okay!” I finally agreed, holding my hands up to shush their seemingly never-ending badgering, and began packing my stuff up. “But I’m paying the next time I help you guys.” 

Giving each other high fives, Mark finally decided to speak. “You’re tutoring us next time too?” 

I blinked a few times before processing that he had actually spoken for the first time today, and to me of all people. “Ye-yes. Yeah. I mean, if you guys- only if you’re okay with it. Me. Helping. Studying?” 

My cheeks flushed bright pink again. Why was I stuttering so bad today?

He didn’t respond, only making a small ‘hmph’ before closing his notebook. 

“There’s a really good place barbeque place two blocks from here,” Youngjae mentioned as he and the others rushed to chuck their belongings into their backpacks. “We’ll meet you guys there!” 

Before I could ask him what he meant, the five imbeciles- minus Jaebum- were burning across the floor as they dashed out the door. Looking to Jaebum with my mouth wide open, he gave Mark and I a quick wave and a tight-lipped smile before following them out—the only one of them to actually walk out like a sane person. 

Mark wore the same expression as me but scoffed as if it were a usual occurrence. When his eyes locked onto mine, we both repelled like opposite poled magnets, then he resumed gathering his things. 

Deciding to break the ice and be the mature one, I tried to start a conversation with the temperamental prick. “Do you know what that was about?” 

Mark only shrugged. I wouldn’t have given up this easily, but something told me that he wasn’t in a mood to be bothered today, so I thought it’d be best to just let him be. 

“I guess I’ll see you at dinner.” Not wanting to test his or my patience any further, I said goodbye and marched out. About eight strides out of the coffee shop, a pair of hands suddenly grasped me by the shoulder and spun me around. 

Mark had his lips pursed and discomfort was written all over his face. Gently grasping his hands and taking them off of my shoulders, I stood there with my arms crossed and gave him a look of expectancy, waiting for him to talk or walk away. 

“Well?” I finally blurted out. “Did you forget something?” 

No response; just a puckered lip and fixated stare that was directed to the ground. After a few more seconds of him with his hands crossed behind him and swaying back and forth like a toddler, he spoke. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled apologetically. 

My eyebrows knit in confusion at his sudden apology. 

“For being such a dick to you the first time we met and for acting like a douchebag the second time.” His hands rubbed the back of his neck, appearing to be a habit that showed when he got nervous. “–and for waiting this long to apologize.”

I pressed my lips together and tried to resist the urge to grin, smile, chuckle, or even giggle. I gave it my all, but a small snort came out of my nostrils that then turned into a full-blown fit of laughter. 

Mark’s eyes were wide open in shock and he was utterly speechless at my reaction. 

“It’s okay—” I choked, wiping the edges of my eyes that threatened to spill tears. “It’s really- it’s- it’s okay!” I pat him on the back lightly while still wiping my damp eyes. 

“You’re not mad?” he asked with his jaw-dropped. 

My snorts had finally somewhat subsided, giving me a chance to breathe steadily again. “No, I’m not mad. At least, not anymore.” I placed a finger under his chin and helped him close his still-agape mouth. 

“I’m not going to lie and say that I wasn’t mad before, but I tried to understand where you were coming from. You lived a completely different life for so long before coming here, so maybe you’ve never dealt with someone as standoffish as me or as similar to you.” 

“But I thought you—” I held my hand up, stopping him from overanalyzing anything further.

“You were rude. I was rude. It doesn’t take a therapist to see that we both have issues managing how we feel things and let them out, but it’s fine. As long as you don’t act like a dick for the remaining time being, we’re okay.”

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, struggling to find the right words to say. “So, we’re—good?” 

I nodded my head, giving him a small smile and another pat on the back. “We’re good.” 

“Thanks...” he mumbled and rubbed the back of his neck again. 

“If it makes you feel any better,” I whispered while leaning closer to him. “I hate apologizing first too.” 

Just as he was about to falter his words again, I began skipping excitedly to the dinner rendezvous. Pausing to look behind me at Mark who was standing still and looking at me wide-eyed, I motioned him to follow me. “You said you guys were paying for dinner tonight, remember?” I shouted, ushering him to walk by my side again. 

Snapping out of his daze, he nearly ran into a bench before catching up to me. 

[academiceve]

Grad Profile #1: Interview with a Health Psychology Masters Student

I thought that it would be fun to introduce interview style blog posts on my blog! I have friends in amazing places, doing amazing things, some of which are attending graduate programs! I would also like to talk more about Psychology and what it is like to continue your studies in one of the subfields, so I hope I can hunt down more people but also include those in different disciplines too!

This first interview is with my dear friend, whom I know from undergrad, as we both studied Psychology. She is currently in her 2nd year of a Health Psychology masters program. 

The Interview

1. Why did you decide to study Psychology for undergrad and what was your experience like?

Psychology was not actually the initial undergrad choice. I got interested in the subject sometime after taking an elective Psychology class in high school. It grew on me. Then after some researching and career testing, I decided to stick to the field. It was one of the best decisions I could have made. I thoroughly enjoyed my undergrad studies.

2. Name 3 favourite/least favourite Psychology subjects that you had to take during your undergraduate studies.

The favourite courses that I had in undergrad were definitely Abnormal Psychology, Marriage and Family, and Family and Addictions. The subjects were interesting on their own, what with dealing with different psychological disorders, subtleties of family life, and a broader understanding of addiction disorders. In addition, they were taught by the most amazing professors, who were really passionate about their subjects and knew a great deal, both from an academic standpoint and from personal working experience.

Meanwhile the subjects I liked the least were Evolutionary Psychology, Organisational Psychology and, as useful and necessary as it is in the field, Statistics. The first two subjects were simply not as appealing to me (and were perhaps taught by the wrong people). Meanwhile, statistics was never, and is still not my thing. I think that it’s alright because not everyone is destined for research and not everyone has to like the same things. The important thing is to try.

3. How did you know that you would like to further your studies by obtaining a masters degree?

For me, getting a masters degree was never a question of wanting it. It is just something that has to be done in order to actually work in the field. The question I had to face was figuring out which masters to get.

4. How and why did you choose to study Health Psychology for your masters degree? Talk a little about your program, how long it is, what kind of classes you take, etc.

Choosing Health Psychology for my masters was not an easy choice. It involved a lot of research and a lot of talking. There were talks with professors, family and friends. The first offered their professional insights. Family, meanwhile, helped to figure out the financial/scholarship matters. Lastly, friends were there to listen and to offer their own insights. Honestly, sometimes, it felt less like talking and more like rambling about the same thing over and over again. But it helped. All the options were considered. It makes me all the more glad that I had someone to talk to.  

As for the program itself, the Health Psychology program takes two years to complete and consists of 120 credits. Each semester consists of classes worth 30 credits. It amounts to about 5 subjects each semester, except for the last, which has only 2 that are worth more credits: second practicum and thesis writing and defense. There are several mandatory classes, such as counselling and psychological evaluation, statistics (yay, but sarcastically), rehabilitation, etc. Then there are 3 elective classes that can be taken. For the thesis, it takes 3 semesters to write. The first semester is dedicated to literature review and introduction, the second to methods and the last one to discussion and results. 

5. What do you like/dislike about studying Health Psychology? Is it what you expected it to be? Is it different from what you expected? If so, how?

In regards to my personal liking of the program, I can say that I am rather enjoying it. Some of the subjects are particularly interesting and valuable. For instance, I do not know what I would have done without the psychological evaluations class or the mock counselling sessions in various other classes. They were the basis I used during the first practicum, where real people came with real problems and real psychological evaluation needs. My masters was my standing rock, helping me bit by bit become better at what I want to do in my life.  

Other subjects are naturally, not as interesting or valuable. Then again, it has to do with personal interests and qualifications of people teaching them. You might be surprised to hear that sometimes a person with three degrees and teaching a masters course might have no idea what they are talking about.

On an ending note, here is something I wish someone would have told me.  It might sound out of blue but I hope it helps. Health Psychology, while part of the medical psychology branch, deals a whole lot more with somatic diseases and their psychological treatment, e.g. diabetes or heart attacks, and less so with psychological disorders, e.g. depression or schizophrenia. Clinical, meanwhile, does the opposite. That said, if there is anyone out there undecided between health psychology and clinical, really consider that distinction. While I made my choice, no one made it clear enough while I was applying. To me the two fields seemed completely overlapping (I was wrong). 

6. How did you feel before beginning your masters studies? What the transition from undergrad to post grad was like?

Starting something new can be a pretty scary experience. It was for me. Especially because I had to move to another city. It was my biggest leap of independence yet. Though, scary as it was, I was still excited for my studies. As for the transition, I expected it to be more challenging. It wasn’t easy and there were certainly days when I called my family or my friends and told them that I wanted to quit, to come back home, to try again later or maybe never. I was fortunate to have them there at those times. Then, as the academic year went on, I made new friends, I got adjusted to the different system, different language, new professors and a schedule that was absolutely different than the one in undergrad. All in all, life got better.

7. What was your first year experience like of your master’s degree?

I started the year very excited, albeit a little scared. There were ups and downs, subjects I adored, professors who were amazing, then there were classes I skipped (yes, even in grad school) and the professors I dreaded hearing lecture. Then the motivation was gone. I am not entirely sure why. Health Psychology is something that I do like. Perhaps what I missed was a gap year, to take a break from academics. The summer that I took off was not enough.

So here’s another advice: if you feel like you need a break, take it. No one knows you better than you. Maybe you don’t need a break, maybe you can go into grad school right away and nail those several years. If not, rest. Grad school won’t go away.

In my personal experience, I don’t regret the decision of not taking a gap year. I had an enjoyable year. I just don’t know if I would make that decision again given a second chance.  

8. Is the workload different from undergrad? If so, how? Do you do more work now or is it about the same? Do you have days off? Any tips for adjusting to the workload in graduate school?

It’s rather difficult to compare the workload between undergrad and grad school. In undergrad, the classes were spaced out during the week, Monday to Friday, usually every day; there was a lot of homework, a lot of reading. Now, the days I need to physically go into class range from two to maximum three, as a way to benefit students who also work. The readings are still just as plenty but I guess undergrad teaches what to read, what to skim and what to pretend to have read. For homework, well... It’s all about whether you manage your time right. If I did my assignments at the rate I allowed myself in undergrad, I would have failed the year. The expectations are much higher, instructions are fewer, and getting used to writing papers in my native tongue after doing it in English for four years has been difficult. Do not even get me started on the length. Enjoy undergrad while you can.

Key to getting everything done comes down to time management, multitasking and a few other things I would like to briefly expand upon. One, it is crucial to communicate with your professors. Look at your assignment due dates (make a list of those) in advance. If you see that a semester worth of assignments is crammed into a single week, tell them. The professors can and usually adjust the dates to benefit the students. Unless they are told hours before or after the due date. Two, for the love of puppies, take time off. Go see a movie, read a book, invite a friend over for tea, whatever you like, the important part is that you don’t fry your brain trying to do everything in one sitting. Leave that for the midterms and finals. Everyone says they will study ahead but no one does. Cure? None.

9. How do you manage your time? Are there any productivity/time management apps/tools that you use?

As said above, time management is crucial. To better succeed at it, I have all of my due dates for assignments listed. It helps me decide which projects are a priority, how much time I can dedicate to each, by when I should be done.

Another tool is making a list of everything that needs to be done, say, in a day. Write it down on a sticky note, a piece of paper, whichever; it helps to keep focused. It is also very satisfying to cross things out.

Lastly, I would like to promote Zotero or Refworks when it comes to making “References”. It saves a lot of time and frustration. It stashes all the read articles in a single place and makes references for you with a few single clicks. Saved me hours!!!

10. What was the application process like for grad school for you? Did you have to do a lot more/or less in comparison to undergrad? Did you have to have an interview?

Contrary to undergrad application, which has a national-wide online system to help you out, applying to grad school is on you. Every university has different application dates and deadlines and there are always the application fees. Universities also limit to how many of their programs you can apply to. Mine had four (for both paid and government financed studies), meanwhile another university I applied to had twelve. Most require to come for an interview. Applying is rather stressful and much more independent. Though, at that point in life, it’s not something you can’t handle.

11. Since you had to do an interview, please share what kind of questions they asked you and any tips that you have preparing for an interview.

As much as I would love to share my interview experience, I am afraid it’s already mostly lost to me. I was super stressed out on the day because it was my number one choice program. What I do remember was being asked why I wanted to study in their university, why the particular program, would I still come to study there if I did not receive a scholarship (which was an option for me) and if I could read 10 English books in a year (still don’t know the point of that). I think they also asked me to tell them about my professional experience. Not that any undergrad has much. It then helps to speak of conferences, what you’ve attended, if you’ve presented somewhere.

Interviews are scary, but they shouldn’t be. Just remember that the interview is such a small tiny thing. Even if it doesn’t work out the first time, you can try again. A lot depends on our cognitions. If we tell ourselves it is frightening, then we make it so, in turn making ourselves more prone to “stress mistakes”. If we don’t, it’s not. I think I remember telling myself: “whatever happens, happens”, before going inside. That helped. Besides, the outcome depends as much on the interviewers’ moods, personalities and personal bias, as it does on your personal input. 

More specifically, to please the interviewer(s) you should look up your program. Knowing what classes you may be able to take and gushing how excited you would be to take them is really a bonus. Tell them how it aligns with your professional interests, so have at least some idea what your professional interests are.

12. What are the top 3 study tips that you use while studying for your masters degree?

Write down due dates and start completing the assignments at least several days before it has to be turned in.

Do readings on time.

Make detailed ‘to-do’ lists for the assignments at hand. Cross off completed work to feel better.

13. I know that this is the most annoying question, but after your masters studies, do you have an idea of what you would like to do? Talk about your dream career choice. What kind of further schooling you will need to achieve it?

Doing my practicum has helped me realise that I would really like to work as a health psychologist. I found that I rather enjoy doing psychological evaluations and counselling people. I am well aware that I still lack the skill and the practice. It makes me look forward to the second practicum, where I will get a chance to improve and learn more. And after I am done, I hope I can apply my knowledge and continue to improve as I work. I do wish to go into one of the psychology schools and become a psychotherapist. Perhaps, sometime later in life, once I’ve rested from the academics and actually earned the money necessary to further my studies. We’ll see. I’d like to be hopeful and encourage the same in others.

I hope you enjoyed this interview and a massive thank you to my friend for agreeing to answer questions and talk more about her experience in graduate school! If you would like to read more from me, click HERE to see other blog posts! You can also follow my studygram HERE for some inspiration! 

[tasharii]

Your Colors: Ch.3.

A/N: This was one giant chapter, I ended up breaking it up into 2. That’s why it took so long to get it done. Sorry for the wait!

Feedback helps me keep going. So please let me know what you think!

Summary:  Art was the one good thing between college, work, and the grey minutes in-between. Sometimes, it felt like she wasn’t alive at all. Just drifting. When she joined her new art class, she never expected to start experiencing everything in an entirely new light. All thanks to him. Or: Where Bucky Barnes gets more than he bargained from his new drawing partner.

Pairing: Reader x Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 8.5k

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Language, some angst

Masterlist

Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4  Chapter 5  Chapter 6  Chapter 7  Chapter 8  Chapter 9  Chapter 10   Chapter 11  Chapter 12  Chapter 13

****

It was raining outside. A slushy mix of rain and snow. Freezing more as the temperature swiftly dropped. The pattering beat echoed throughout the studio, along with the occasional crash of thunder. Y/N really needed to leave, but he hadn’t said anything yet. Class ended five minutes ago, but he was still silently standing in front of her final. It was displayed on its very own easel at the front of the room. Framed, and exposed for the first time.

Part of her still couldn’t believe that she had managed to finish it. The headache pounding behind her eyes and, obnoxiously, tall thermos of coffee sitting on her desk, reminded her that it wasn’t an easy accomplishment. Three days of straight, grueling work. After her study of Bucky’s arm on Friday, she drew like a whirlwind of crazy. Even dragged her project to the library during work and inked in details between helping customers.

They had agreed to keep their finals a surprise. It was kind of like a competition. Despite having seen every other piece up to this point, it was fun to try and surprise him.

Now she was starting to wonder if she had surprised him a little too much.

When Y/N got up in the front of the class to talk about the project, she was too nervous to look at him. She focused solely on her teacher, and answered everyone’s questions about her motivation, inspiration, and why she did what she did. It happened so fast that she had completely missed his reaction. After she went back to where she had been standing beside him, she kept glancing over to him for any response. She didn’t want to interrupt the next presenter, so she stayed quiet. All he offered her, when he noticed her looking, was a small smile and soft whisper of ‘Good job’ against her ear.

That wasn’t what she had been looking for.

Bucky had gone a few presentations after her, and she still couldn’t get over how damned talented he was.

Bucky didn’t appear the least bit nervous when he got up in front of everyone. He was confident, at ease, and put on his million-watt smile that she could only assume came from working in customer service. It was a pretty stark contrast to his normally quiet, reserved nature when he was in class. She noticed a couple of the other students seemed a bit surprised at the difference.

Carefully, he pulled his framed piece out of its black carrying case and placed it on his easel. For a few minutes he stood beside it quietly. Tall and broad in his long-sleeved plaid shirt, and dark washed jeans. Hair perfectly tussled. Naturally, he was handsome, and sharp even in simple clothes.

Y/N gathered around with the rest of the class in a semi-circle at the front of the room. Mr. Ramsey took critiquing seriously and made sure everyone participated. Her heart stopped as she stared at the beautifully illustrated charcoal piece. It was of a woman. Cropped to focus on her torso, and the little baby she held in her arms. She was smiling sweetly down at her child and didn’t seem to even notice the viewer. The shadows were deep to accent the halo glow coming from the subjects, and it almost looked like a photograph.

Right then, she knew this had to be Bucky’s mother. Y/N didn’t know much about her. He only ever spoke about her once, when she talked about her own. All she knew was that his mother had died when he was twelve. Left his father behind to raise one son and a daughter.

After a couple quiet minutes of everyone taking the picture in, Mr. Ramsey finally spoke up “Obviously this is a beautiful piece. Why don’t you tell us a bit about it? Where you got the idea, why you chose charcoal, and what was the hardest part?”

Bucky shifted his feet, folding his hands in front of him as he peeked over at the drawing thoughtfully “Um… I think the hardest part was choosing to draw her at all. I haven’t seen my mom since I was little. So, it’s hard to remember her. I wanted to do something that made me have to think about her. Made me feel closer to her. And while working on this, I started to remember her a little better.” He smiled sadly, and cleared his throat, studying his peers. Nervousness hidden just below the surface. She didn’t think anyone else even noticed how tense he was.

Y/N met his eyes and gestured encouragingly for him to continue. Bucky gave her a grateful nod in return and spoke back up “This was something I’ve been putting off for a while. I just haven’t had the guts to really work on it. Until lately.” He stared at her pointedly then, and she wondered if this was one of the things he had thanked her for before. She wasn’t sure what she did to give him courage, but, if she did, she was glad.

 Of course, when Mr. Ramsey had went around asking for critics, and opinions, she was first in line to give Bucky an earful. Pointedly gave an in-depth critic with things he might have done differently, but mostly with heartfelt compliments. A courtesy he hadn’t given to her.

Slowly, she shouldered her backpack and finally decided to just approach him. He hadn’t moved, but most of the class was gone. Leaving them alone with Ramsey in the back, writing reports for each project. She weaved her way through the series of desks and stepped up to his left. A line of easels stood side by side. Each held a different student’s work. They formed a line in front of the marker board that Mr. Ramsey sometimes used. It took up the entire front wall. There were still instructions left up there for their watercolor homework. They were supposed to practice with backgrounds.

Her easel was closer to the right, near the door. Coming to stand beside him, she surveyed her work for the millionth time. Ink had ended up being the final medium. She knew it would after practicing his arm in it a couple times. The drawing was like the sketch of him in her window. Same facial expression. Same bared arm, but he was wearing a ripped white shirt. His jaw was bruised, and he was lounging on her couch. One leg propped up against the armrest, the other off on the floor, right arm draped against the back of the couch, and metal one casually holding a glass of coke near his mouth. Shirt bloody, pants dirty, and hair absolutely wrecked. His bright eyes were on the viewer. Once again daring them to look.

It was a mixture of different poses she had done of him. When asked why she chose this, she had answered “I wanted to draw something human. Something that people could relate to in a million different ways.” It was more than that, of course. An emotional artist at heart, this piece also helped her vent out everything from that night. All the hurt and fear poured out into every single black line.

“So, something human?” Bucky’s voice jarred her from her stupor. She swallowed the nervous lump in her throat as he continued, “You really think people can relate to a guy with a mechanical limb?” He turned his head, eyes flickering between her face and the drawing.

She shuffled the warm thermos in her hands and nodded “Ya, I do. Being human hurts. Everyone loses something while experiencing it. Doesn’t have to be a limb.” She swallowed again, and finally looked at him as she spoke. Her voice was soft but strong, determined to make her point. He was staring at her intently, arms crossed. His bag hung across his chest, resting on his hip. “Different people lose different things. Their confidence, creativity, someone they loved, or even their heart. Doesn’t always equal out to the same hurt. But it’s still painful.”

“No one can completely lose their heart.” Bucky mused, and he was smiling, but it was such a sad smile. It highlighted the tired shadows under his eyes. She could feel a mirroring one on her face “Just takes a while to come back when it’s been hurt.”

Part of her yearned for him to be right. But she had been waiting for her own to come back for a long time. Even if it did, she didn’t know if she would trust to ever let someone have it again. Sometimes, in the quiet moments at night when she couldn’t sleep, it didn’t feel like she even had a heartbeat. Instead, a heavy void pressed down inside her ribcage. All consuming.

Bucky let out a loud raspberry, smacking his lips together. Then waved to the drawing, hand slapping against his leg as he dropped his arm “Well! It’s beautiful.” He laughed loudly, breaking up the tension “Best damn picture I’ve ever seen of myself.”

Y/N smiled wider, the air feeling lighter. It was easier to breathe, “Ya think so? Cause, well, your chin was a bitch.” She grinned as the familiar joke left her, and thumbed open her thermos, taking a drink of the coffee. It was still hot. The heat curled soothingly in her stomach and the smell of coffee comforted her.

Ramsey’s unamused glare burned the back of her neck. Probably wanted them to leave him in peace and quiet. She ignored him. Heat blew down from the vent above them, spurred on by the cold pressing against the brick outside. She fussed with her zipper, closing up her jacket with one hand, balancing her thermos in the other.

Pouting, he rubbed at his chin and then chuckled, wagging a finger at her “Don’t lie. You love it.” His eyes were warm and sweet. Familiar. When had Bucky’s smile start to feel familiar?

Just as she was about to respond, her eyes caught the time above the marker board “Oh shit I’m late.” Y/N was supposed to be at work no later than 4:40. It was ticking towards 4:30, and she had to get back to the school. Which was a 30-minute drive, longer with bad traffic. They were in Brooklyn. Orion was all the way over, across the bridge, in Midtown.

Hail had started pounding down from the clouds when she wasn’t paying attention. Just her luck. White dots started to collect on the roof, visible from the window to her left. It was supposed to snow later that night. Bucky helpfully snickered “I hope you boss is nice or your so screwed.” He followed her as she rushed out of the room and skipped the elevator all together.

The door to the stairway banged open at the force she shoved at it. She took the stairs two at a time with Bucky on her heels, “Katlin is going to kill me. She’s gotta get her daughter from practice.” Y/N groaned and glanced over her shoulder to glare at Bucky “This is all your fault!”

“What’d I do??” He gaped at her, as she turned the corner onto the next flight. Bucky’s footsteps were lighter than hers, but still echoed when he jumped to the landing behind her. Managing to keep up despite her going as fast as she could.

“If you had just told me what you thought! Instead of mysteriously gazing at my damn drawing! Then I wouldn’t have waited around for you to say something!” She huffed, reaching the last landing, and turning to gauge his reaction. She was already late. What did a few more minutes matter? Y/n’s chest heaved in both frustration and from running down so many stairs. Her free hand still held the railing, the other hugging her coffee to her chest.

Bucky stopped two steps from the bottom, and started laughing “Mysteriously? What? You’re the one that didn’t ask! I told you ‘Good Job’!” He waved a hand at her, shaking his head as if this entire thing was ridiculous. It was a little, but she barreled on.

“Oh cause ‘Good Job Pal’ is a worthwhile answer! You didn’t even tell me how you felt about it!” She wasn’t really mad. Not really, really mad, but she was irritated. Over the weather, and work, and maybe a little because he was so damn vague all the time. They could talk about nothing for hours, but if anything weighted came up he changed the subject. It didn’t help that he was laughing at her. Besides, she spent hours trying to make it perfect. Trying to draw him with the care he deserved.

Maybe he didn’t deserve it after all.

Confused, he stuffed one hand in his pocket, and the other on his bulky bag against his hip. He spoke her name sharply in disbelief, it ricocheted in the empty corridor “I thought you knew by now that your art is amazing. That I think it’s amazing. You’re able to make people feel things. Able to see things most don’t see.” His voice softened towards the end in the confession and he took another step down. She took a step back in return, letting go of the rail “Your anatomy was good. The shading was awesome.” He snorted, shaking his head “There’s not much I could critic except maybe the bloody shirt was a bit much. Considerin’ everything else you’ve got going on in there. But that’s just my opinion.”

The silence that followed his words left her heart pounding. Maybe it was alive, but she only ever got proof when Bucky was around. Scarlet crawled across her cheeks and burned her ears from how closely he was studying her. He raised his eyebrows with a clear ‘happy now?’ expression. She smiled nervously “Ya, but I couldn’t get it outta my head after that night, so I had to put it down somewhere.”

He jabbed his finger at her “See? Now I get it.” He took the last stair down to meet her and sighed sharply. As if with a heavy heart, he slung an arm over her shoulder in a half-hug “You shouldn’t need me to tell you how talented you are. You shouldn’t be able to forget it.”

Bucky hadn’t done this to her since that night either. Hadn’t wrapped an arm over her shoulder, playfully or otherwise. It made her feel warm. Like it was spring instead of winter, “It doesn’t hurt to hear.” She muttered, head down as he led them towards the entrance of the museum “I don’t always like what I do. I know I could do better.”

“Everyone can always do better.”

  The air outside was damp and cold. Hail littered the walkway, but it was starting to give way to snow. So at least she wouldn’t have to deal with being soaked and battered. Bucky didn’t remove his arm as they hurried towards the main road. Both were scanning for a taxi. Y/N was grateful for the extra warmth and protection from the biting wind. She tugged the sleeves of her jacket down over her fingers and kept her head ducked down. Should have worn something heavier. Instead of dwelling on her horrible self-esteem issues, she tried to change the subject.

“Got any plans tonight?” She asked over the howling of the wind, curling into Bucky’s hold to avoid the small bit of hail coming down with the snow. Her hair whipped around her face, and she tugged a strand out of her mouth. Snow clung to her eyelashes and very little sun got through the dark overhanging clouds. It was almost like nighttime came early.

He raised his hand, distractedly waving over a taxi. They stood at the very edge of the sidewalk, the toes of Bucky’s scuffed boots hanging over the edge, “Ya, I need to get home. A friend of mine’s coming over. Was gonna take her out, but since the weather’s actin’ up, I figure I’ll make her something for dinner. She’d probably like that better anyway.” He grinned when a taxi finally took notice of them and squeezed her shoulder.

Y/N felt her heart drop towards her stomach, suddenly very curious about Bucky’s apparent friend. A girl. Who he was willing to cook dinner for. She pressed her lips together and felt a little colder. Like the snow was soaking through her jacket but maybe she wasn’t imagining that.

As the taxi pulled over he asked, staring down at her “Do you mind sharing? My apartments on the way.” He gave a sheepish smile, the cold making his nose light pink. Bucky looked cute anyway. His hood was up on his jacket under his heavier coat. The hood made his hair press closer to his face and his eyes were a pristine wintery blue, reflecting the snow.

She shook her head and Bucky held the door open for her. Then climbed in behind her. He leaned forward and gave the address of his apartment, and then tacked on her college, the Orion Institute. She had never seen where Bucky lived. Not once in the entire time they spent meeting for their projects. They always met at her place. A part of her was excited to even just see his building.

They didn’t live that far apart. Bucky’s apartment was in Brooklyn Heights, less than 30 minutes from her apartment in Midtown. It only seemed far because of traffic. She lived within walking distance of the Orion Institute and only a mile from Central Park.

The taxi pulled away from the curb, navigating smoothly between a few cars in the road, “You make dinner for her often?” Y/N asked, settling back in her seat and running a hand through her tangled hair. Using the tie on her wrist, she pulled the damp mass back out of her face, watching Bucky plop his bag on the floor between his feet. He dusted snow off his coat and shoved his hoodie down.

“Not really. She’s just in town visiting her folks. Used to make her dinner all the time when we were dating.” He smiled wistfully, remembering something sweet. Then he shrugged, and the smile vanished “But that was a long time ago.” The windshield wipers ticked loudly up front and the soft crooning of the radio on an older jazz station drifted from the speakers. Heat made it back to them from the front and she rubbed her frosty fingers together.

Heart suddenly heavy, Y/N turned in the seat to look at him closer. She tucked her knee up onto the leather and fiddled with the material of her jeans. Carefully, she adjusted her bag, propping it on her thighs “So you’re still close?” Snow melted through the sleeves of her coat and carried the scent of winter with it. It just made her colder, despite the dry heat from the taxi.

Bucky pursed his lips thoughtfully “Kinda? I mean, me and Dot have always been pretty close. We don’t see each other much since she lives in Chicago now, but we hangout when she comes by. It’s always nice to catch up.” He shook some of the melting snow out of his hair, making it spike up. Gesturing with his hands as he spoke. Bucky seemed a little tense, talking about Dot. He made eye contact but was slow as he spoke. Picking his words carefully.

“Do you still like her?” That was probably one of the more personal questions she had outright asked him since knowing him. It made anxiety tighten in her throat. He had never mentioned any relationships to her before. Y/N kind of assumed he was single, based on never talking about a girl or drawing any mystery girls. Maybe she was wrong. She bit her tongue when Bucky scoffed.

“Like, like-like her?” He teased, snorting, and then looking out the window. He propped his elbow up on the door and put his chin on his hand. Water dripped down the glass as he turned his attention to the world outside “It’s more complicated than that.” He finally answered, voice quiet and far off. A car honked as it passed, and the snow was still coming down heavily. It made the scenery fuzzy. Almost ethereal. At least the pattering of hail had subsided. Just snow now.

“How?” She pried, curiosity biting at her. Her stomach pinched unpleasantly. Bucky had an ex-girlfriend who lived several hours away but came to visit him. Visit her family, too, but they were still in contact enough that he cooked dinner for her sometimes. And still considered himself close to her.

Bucky huffed, and pulled out his phone, fidgeting with it. The screen lit up, but he didn’t mess with it long enough to do more than maybe check a text before he locked the screen again. Jerkily, he dropped it into his lap and peered over at her before staring up at the questionably stained ceiling, “Complicated like. Like we were going to get married. But then I went overseas. And she didn’t wait.” He was steadily getting more agitated, and she belatedly realized that she probably stumbled on a button. He glared at the ceiling and then back down at his phone. Anywhere but her.

Part of her screamed to back track and change the subject. The rest of her was echoing with the realization that he was almost married. Y/N swallowed back the nervous lump in her throat and squeezed her fingers into fists. They were still cold, and the driver’s heavy cologne was starting to make her nauseous. She forced herself to watch Bucky’s reactions. So that maybe she could fill in the blanks of what he wasn’t saying.

“So, you still wanna be with her?” She asked gently, hoping to maybe not piss him off beyond all hope. Her hands played with her bag, twisting at one of the front zippers. A pencil dug at her thigh from the bottom of the bag. Managing to sting through the patterned material. She shifted the bottom, making the pencil move.

Bucky froze, frowning down at his phone. He didn’t speak up for a bit, but eventually laughed softly. It wasn’t a warm laugh, “Sometimes, I guess so.” He peeked up, smiling at her. A disheartened smile. His damp bangs fell in his steel-blue eyes, “But even if I wanted to. Even if she wanted to. It probably wouldn’t work anyway.” Bucky tapped at his temple and shrugged, looking like something heavy weighed down on his back “Not with the mess that’s up here now. I’m not really the relationship kinda guy anymore.” He stared deliberately down at his hands again, and she almost missed the last little bit he muttered, more to himself than her “Wouldn’t wanna make any girl deal with my mess.”

A few minutes passed where she tried to collect her thoughts. Tried to filter through all the snippets of things she wanted to say. Finally, she stared resolutely at his profile. Willing him to look back at her. The colorful city lights refracted through the melting snowdrops, casting shifting shadows across his body. His eyebrows were drawn together, deep in thought, as he stared down at his black phone screen, “Bucky.” He tensed at first, but then slowly glanced up at her. Reluctantly, as if afraid of what she was going to say. Obviously, he was uncomfortable, but she couldn’t imagine what was going through his head.

The car was slowing to a stop, breaks squeaking in protest. They were in front of an older apartment building now. A few people milled around outside in the snow. It was covered in brick and wilted ivy. The windows were small, other buildings hugging it on either side, but it was pretty, covered in snow and ice. He needed to leave, “You deserve to be happy.”

He raised his eyebrows at her, stubbornly silent. His blank expression gave nothing away. She pursed her lips, forcing her tangled web of anxiety down, “And you shouldn’t stop yourself from being happy cause you’re afraid of being a problem for someone else. You’re not a problem.” None of her words were coming out right. They all sounded better in her head. She was so afraid of showing too much of her hand. Letting him see the feelings that were just starting to become a delicate, flower bud inside of her. Something small and new that she just didn’t want anyone to see yet.

“This is sweet and all, but the meter is still runnin. I’m not gonna stop it ‘cause you two lovebirds need relationship therapy. Are you getting out or not?” The cab driver called from the front, voice harsh and loud in the tense quiet that fell after she stopped talking. She glanced up at him, taking in his black beanie and the white snippets of hair that stuck haphazardly out from under it. Her heart pounded, and her body flushed in embarrassment.

It was easy to forget that someone else could be listening.

Bucky jerked, caught off guard and scowled for a minute. He pointedly looked at her and rolled his eyes. Then turned and met the driver’s glare through the rearview mirror. The smile he offered was charming as usual, and he sheepishly apologized, “Sorry just give us a minute alright?” He leaned forward and dug a few 20s out of his wallet, handing them to the guy. That covered far more than just his ride. She knew better than to argue with him on it, though.

Then he faced her again, and Y/N could barely keep her breathing even. She wanted to know what he was about to say but she was scared. Scared that he would argue with her, or that he would see past everything. See the emerging feelings that she kept pushing down. She didn’t want him to know. Barely wanted to admit to anything herself. The budding rose in her heart felt like it was tightening its thorny vines around her lungs.

Before he could speak, there was a knock on the window behind him. Y/N jumped, startled. Bucky let out the breath he just took in to speak. Then tilted his head over his shoulder, annoyed, only for his face to brighten into a warm smile. A young woman was standing there. She had a brown fuzzy hood up to protect her from the snow, but Y/N could see firy red hair underneath it. Bucky chuckled affectionately “Goddamn impatient woman.” He picked up his bag and climbed out. Completely forgetting about whatever he was going to say.

Completely forgetting about her too, it seemed.

Bucky gave the woman a tight hug and talked quickly to her. Voice carried off by the wind. His door hung open, letting in the icy air. She couldn’t hear what they were saying. All she could think about was how pretty Dot was.

After a couple long minutes, Bucky leaned back in with a bright grin “I’ll see you Thursday ok?” His hand was resting on the top of the open door. Snow clung to his hair and his cheeks were chapped pink from the cold again.

“Ya, have fun.” Y/N replied lamely, forcing the biggest smile she could muster. She hugged her bag as hard as she could. Then hugged it harder when Dot’s hand touched his shoulder, drawing his attention back. So hard that the supplies inside hurt her chest. The pencil dug into her stomach this time. She didn’t care.

Bucky nodded distractedly, and let go of the door, stepping back. He wasn’t even looking at her anymore, “Ya sure. Have fun with all your books!” He called as he shut the door. It echoed loudly in the quiet. The car pulled away immediately. She stared at the space he used to be, ears ringing.

Annoyed, the driver turned up the heater and grumbled about Bucky letting all the heat out of the car. The heater sputtered nosily. Then he spitefully turned up the radio. Shifting, she placed both feet back on the floor, and shoved her backpack over where Bucky had been sitting. Numbly, she picked her thermos off the ground. The coffee was lukewarm, but she sipped at it anyway.

She ignored the driver, only muttering out an apology that she doubt he heard over all the noise. Sinking low into her seat, she watched the world pass outside, and tugged out her phone. She messaged Katlin an apology for being late. Let her know when she would be arriving.

As the taxi passed under a stoplight, heading towards the Brooklyn Bridge, the glowing green light reflected over her hands. The color reminded her of spring leaves. Distantly, she wondered what Bucky had been about to say. If only he hadn’t been pulled away.

Inside of her chest, Y/N imagined the rosebud sinking back into the soil. Where it would remain dormant and alone.

*****

The tip of her brush dipped into the water, and she let the bristles stroke across the top of her drawing. Pale blue pigment for the river bled down and pooled along the line of dry paper she created. It became a gradient, light at the top and dark at the bottom where most of the shadows in the creek were. She lifted the drawing board that her paper was taped to, keeping it from buckling. Carefully, she tipped the board so that the water flowed where she wanted to. Distributing the paint and giving the surface of the stream a textured look to it.

After a minute, Y/N sat the board down and glanced at the copy of the painting they were recreating. The landscape was created by David Taylor and called ‘Catching the Morning Light’. It was a simple creek surrounded by grass and trees with a faded background. Impressionistic in style and rich in contrast. All they had to do for class was recreate the painting to the best of their ability.

She sat the board back down and stretched her back. It cracked over her chair and she sighed in relief. Shifting a little, she tried to find a comfortable position for her numb butt on the hard chair. Then, she clicked through her phone, checking her messages and debating taking a break to get a snack from a vending machine downstairs.

Beside her, Y/N heard a frustrated sigh, followed by the clinking of a brush against glass. Aggressively, Bucky rinsed out his brush, nearly splashing out the water. She watched him from her peripheral as he held his brush over his pallet of paint, glaring at the colors. As if they personally offended him. Bucky scoffed, roughly dropping the brush back down on his desk.

They hadn’t talked much since Monday. Today was, finally, Thursday. She wanted to text him but didn’t want to bug him. Wanted to talk but didn’t know what to say. It felt like she might have done something wrong when he replied to the few texts she did send with short responses. But she couldn’t think of anything she did to piss him off. Normally, Bucky would be straight forward with her if he was mad about something. Especially, if it was something she did.

So, she just stopped texting him. And he didn’t text her either. Now she couldn’t decide if she was annoyed or concerned.

Bucky put his head in his hands and pulled his phone out. He clicked through it for a couple of seconds. Y/N watched as his shoulders bunched up and his jaw clenched. Since he sat down beside her that afternoon, he hadn’t spoken to her beyond a greeting. Then a couple snarky remarks about their project.

He wasn’t much of a watercolor kind of guy. She could tell. He understood the techniques. Understood, for the most part, how to apply them, but he had no love for the medium. No passion for it. Unlike her.

Y/N loved watercolor. It was easy because there wasn’t much need for precise control. It’s meant to be messy, for the most part. Didn’t have to be completely realistic and perfect. The colors would blend together beautifully and created amazing textures just about on their own.

The screeching of a chair against tile made her jump. Her brush nearly smudged the bundle of trees in the background all wrong. Bucky brusquely stood from his seat and stalked out of the room. Despite the door shutting quietly behind him, it felt like a slam. All the soft murmuring of conversation died instantly. The older woman, Hannah, sitting next to her stared at her questioningly. Y/N shrugged and shook her head.

She wanted to go after him but resisted the urge.

For 10 minutes.

It took all her self-control to focus back on her work. She got in a couple strokes for the silhouettes of the far-off trees but every few minutes she peeked at the door. Rhythmically, she tapped the edge of her brush against her scuffed desk. Her eyes drifted to Bucky’s painting. They had been working for about an hour now, but he barely even had a wet wash of color down. Only an outline of the creek, and a few splotches of color that she didn’t quite understand the purpose of.

Definitely not his best work.

Giving up, Y/N stood quietly from her desk. She placed her brush down carefully in its holder and tucked her phone in her back pocket. Some of the students stared at her, but she ignored them as she made her way to the teacher’s desk. Quietly, she told Ramsey she was going to the bathroom. From his look of exasperation, she got the feeling that he didn’t believe her. Which was fair. Still, he waved her towards the door before going back to his iPad.

Outside of the studio, the hallway was empty. To her left were the elevators and emergency exit to the stairwell. If she went right, there were a few doors leading to a couple more studios and meeting rooms. Beyond that, she would enter the museum area. With the Visible Storage, William Richards, American Art, and a few other displays.

She took a couple steps towards the displays and then did a small circle, trying to decide where Bucky might have gone. Her boots clicked against the tile floor. A soft buzz came from the golden lights on the ceiling. Y/N had a feeling he would have wanted to be somewhere quiet and alone. Walking slowly through the hall, she checked all the other rooms. Only one was active with some sort of lecture taking place. The other 5 were unoccupied and dark. She didn’t believe that Bucky would purposefully go sit in the dark. So, she turned around and continued to the stairwell.

Opening the door, Y/N stepped out and quietly shut it behind her. The click of the door sealing still echoed through the silent concrete flight of stairs. Faintly, she could smell ashy smoke. She walked down the first flight and turned the corner of the landing. There was a draft and she wished she had thought to grab her sweater. Glancing down, she saw Bucky shuffling over to sit as far against the wall as he could. Probably attempting to get out of the way of whoever was coming down. He huddled up in his hoodie, knees drawn close, feet on the step just below the flat landing. She now understood where the smell of smoke was coming from. Determined, she took the last step to even ground and strolled slowly over to him.

As she sat down beside him, she noticed a thin trail of smoke coming from a cigarette he was subtly hiding between his knees. Y/N didn’t smoke. Tried it once and nearly coughed up a lung, but she understood why people did. Everyone had their own reasons. She only ever requested that no one smoked in her apartment. Still, she was surprised. She never smelt cigarettes on him and he never once asked if he could smoke at her place. Or excused himself to smoke outside.

Bucky side glanced over to her before letting out a breath and bringing the cigarette to his mouth. He took a long drag and blew out a massive plum of smoke, then immediately waved it away, making it disperse quicker and looking a bit apologetic, “I swear I quit.” He explained, trying to smile but not quite managing “I’ve carried this pack with me for a year now. Just to prove I could have them on me but not light ‘em.” He rolled the cigarette in his fingers and stared at the burning end “Guess I have to start over now.”

Y/N settled in beside him, crossing her arms over her knees and curling forward. “That’s ok.” She gave a half shrug, studying his downcast expression as he flicked ash between his feet. It sprinkled on a second cigarette butt, “If you want to quit you will.” She laid her head down on her arms, using them and her knees as a pillow. Despite being extremely worried, she didn’t want to press. If he didn’t want to talk, she wouldn’t make him. It meant a lot to her that he hadn’t told her to go away. Softly, she wondered “Watercolor so bad that you needed a smoke break?”

Reluctantly, Bucky chuckled, and the sound made her stomach warm “Something like that.” He murmured, taking a last drag from the cigarette before rubbing it out on the stair between his feet. Smoke rushed out of his nose as he breathed out. The smell made her lungs burn but it didn’t bother her too much. It reminded her of the way her grandfather used to smell. There was something somewhat comforting there, even if her body rejected the tainted air.

Bucky stared dejectedly down at his feet, eyebrows pinched and almost angry. His right hand rubbed at the fingers of his left. Like he was trying to massage out an ache.

Y/N didn’t comment on it, instead she stared up at him and stated “I’m pretty sure they have a no smoking policy inside the building. If we get caught, I’m throwing you under the bus.” She kept her voice very dry and knew he caught the humor when one side of his mouth turned up, like he wanted to smile. He finally looked at her then.

The rings under his eyes were darker than normal and his skin was pale. His hair was a mess, like he ran a hand through it one too many times. Something made his back hunch forward. Almost like Bucky was trying to curl in on himself. Like he wanted to disappear.

“I’ll take full responsibility. Don’t worry. I’ll just pull my veteran status and say that the cold makes my arm hurt so I couldn’t stand outside.” Bucky flexed the fingers of his left hand again and grimaced, “They’ll let me off with a warning, tops.”

“How manipulative of you.” Y/N replied, pretending to be disapproving. When Bucky covered another wince with a thin laugh at her words, her frown deepened with concern, “Your arm hurting?”

Bucky flinched from her question, as if alarmed that she noticed. Then he studied her face, eyes a little suspicious, before slowly relaxing. She was watching him calmly, with a little bit of concern, but not really pity. He slowly nodded “Ya, well, really it’s my hand. It’s phantom pains. Happens sometimes when I’m stressed. It’s like my fingers are over an open flame. They’re throbbing.” His shoulders tensed up near his ears and he tried to smile, as if it wasn’t a big deal, but obviously it was.

Just his description made Y/N flinch in sympathy. He turned his attention back to his hand, rubbing at his gloved fingers. She rocked her feet against the concrete, rising up on her toes and then rolling back on her heels, restless “Does that help?” She asked, waving towards his hands with her own closest to him.

Not looking up, he nodded “Sometimes. Tony made my arm so that I can feel pressure and temperature. It’s still experimental. Not perfectly accurate. But, if I send pressure signals to my nerves long enough, the pains go away. Usually.” He huffed, frowning and biting his lip “Today’s just a really, really bad day.” That felt like a loaded comment. His voice cracked, dropping to almost a whisper near the end.

There was a long stretch of silence after that. Not an uncomfortable silence. Just quiet and full of thoughts. Y/N broke it with an offer, hoping to make him smile again “If watercolor’s stressing you that bad, I’ll do the painting for you. Ramsey doesn’t have to know.”

Bucky snorted and tilted his head to study her, smiling a little more when he saw the cheeky grin she gave him “I might take you up on that.” Then he turned back to his hand, slowly plucking off the glove he always wore. He stuffed it into his hoodie pocket and cleared his throat “But I don’t think it would help.”

“Wanna talk about it?” Y/N flicked her hair out of her eyes, tugging the long white sleeves of her shirt over her palms. The draft through the stairwell, along with the cold rock underneath her, had the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. She hugged her legs a little tighter. Being curled up helped her conserve some of her warmth.

The plates of his fingers hummed as he arched them, stretching them as far as he could. She didn’t think he was going to respond for a minute. He wouldn’t look at her. But then his words hesitantly broke the quiet. Almost shy, “It’s um… remember Dot?” He asked slowly, still not looking at her. His hair fell forward over his forehead in a soft wave. Nervously, he shuffled his feet, and smeared some of the ash across the stair.

She nodded, and he must have seen her from his peripheral because he continued “She stayed the night Monday.” Bucky’s nose wrinkled, and his lips were pressed into a fine line. Irritated, “I didn’t plan on anything happening but then a lot happened.” He let out a long breath “A lot. She didn’t leave until Wednesday.” He pushed at his metal ring finger, stretching it back, then forward towards his palm.

Y/N instantly buried the pain and disappointment that surged through her. It burned in her chest and twisted her stomach tight with thorns. But she pushed it down and locked it away. This wasn’t the time for her petty issues. Bucky was hurting over something. Something so bad that he was having phantom pains and relapsed into smoking, “Did it not go well?” She asked, keeping her voice quiet and as soothing as she could manage. Afraid of making him clam back up. Afraid he would throw his walls back in her face.

A spiteful, bitter laugh left him, and he regarded her, eyebrows furrowed “It was great. Really great. We laughed and talked.” He sat up, restless with too much nervous energy, tone spiteful “The sex was fantastic.” His voice rose towards the end, pent up frustration escaping in bursts, and he gestured with his arms. Only to wince with a loud curse and curl back in on himself when the pain in his arm spiked.

Y/N was sitting at his left and straightened up when he cried out. She brought her hand up, touching his arm, worried, “Careful!” He looked at her, surprised and covered her hand with his right one. His touch was gentle and warm. She frowned at him, the hand on his upper arm squeezed reassuringly “You ok?” The metal was hard under his plush sleeve.

Bucky exhaled sharply, squeezing his eyes shut and nodded “I’m alright. Just irritated it.” She dropped her hand. Subdued, Bucky rubbed at his fingers again “Anyway, then she got ready to go Wednesday. She was just about to walk out the door, but she stopped to tell me it was all a mistake.” He grimaced, teeth clenching in a mocking smile, voice fluctuating with flippant sarcasm “That she finally realized I’m not the man she fell in love with. That she’s not the girl I think I love.” His head dropped down, hanging low, and she could tell he wanted to cry. He swiped roughly at his eyes.

Not knowing what else to do, she reached over and tentatively laid her hand on his inner wrist. With just enough weight that he could feel her there. When he didn’t shove her off, her palm slipped against his and she laced their fingers together. His hand was cold against her skin, and she squeezed. For a minute, Bucky was silent, but then he squeezed carefully back.

“Why do girls think they have to make decisions for everyone else?” He asked, not looking at their hands. Hard metal against the soft skin. Instead, he stared down the staircase, somewhere off in the distance. Not really seeing anything, “I respect her realizing that I’m not…” He cleared his throat as his voice got thick and rough “I’m not the person I was before the army. I’m not. But she shouldn’t decide how I feel about her.”

“No, she shouldn’t.” Y/N spoke up and he tilted his head to peek up at her. Still slouched forward like he was trying to disappear. His eyes were shining grey in the dim light of the stairwell. Tears held back just by a thread. Full lips raw from biting them too hard, “It’s your choice whether you love her or not. She should have let you have that. Even if it was her choice to not love you back.” She licked her lips and swallowed the lump in her throat “But she shouldn’t have spent the night with you if she wasn’t sure.” She scooted closer and placed her other hand on top of his left one, encasing his hand in her both of hers and held tightly. It warmed the longer she held it. Her thumb brushed over the plates, feeling the texture. And Bucky let her.

He was quiet for a while. Just watching her hold his hand. Staring intently, as if thinking, but not pulling away, “She didn’t let me figure it out on my own. I thought maybe we could work it out.”

Y/N could feel his body heat down her entire side where they were pressed together. The solid weight of their hands made her feel connected to him. She wasn’t as cold anymore “She should have talked to you about everything before letting you feel that way.”

Bucky nodded, biting his bottom lip. Again, “I wish she had. It felt like losing her all over again.” He blinked past the mist in his eyes and shrugged, trying to brush off the weight in the air, “But I don’t think this’ll ever happen again.”

“Why not?” The hurt radiating from him made her chest ache. She kept gently rubbing his hand with her fingers. Down his wrist, over his thumb, across his own fingertips. Y/N hoped he could feel the comfort she was trying to translate through her touch.

“As mad as I am that she assumed she knew how I felt. She isn’t wrong. I don’t love her anymore.” Bucky scratched at the back of his neck with his free hand, cracking it, and then rubbed at his damp eyes “I think I just love the idea of loving her. Ya know?” He sniffed and laughed wetly, “At least, that’s what Steve keeps telling me.”

“Steve seems like a smart guy.” Y/N stated. She laid her head against his shoulder and continued, “I do understand that, though. It’s almost impossible to let go of someone you cared about for so long. They’re comforting. You know what to expect. It’s hard to get over that kind of heartbreak.”

“I guess you would know?” Bucky asked, raising his eyebrows. She tilted her head up to look at him. Their faces were stooped close together. The moment felt very private and intimate.

Y/N had the sudden urge to draw it. Draw them like this. From behind. Capturing their backs and tilted faces. The look of tired curiosity on Bucky’s face. Two people bonding over something universally sad and too common. A moment of intimate human connection.

Slowly, she looked down at her hand over his. The rings she was wearing glinted in the harsh light. This was easier than staring into his eyes. Her heart jumped as she admitted, “Ya, it took me over a year to even think about dating again.”

Bucky glanced up at the high ceiling and huffed, blowing out a breath. The sound reverberated through the stairwell “I don’t know if I’ll ever wanna date again.” He muttered “I’m too fucked up. No one should have to deal with my issues.”

Y/N instantly remembered the conversation from a few days ago. In the back of the cab. Right before Dot showed up and tugged him away. It felt different now. Bucky still had the same issues, but she understood just a bit better. After today. She leaned forward to make him look at her and shook his arm to get his attention when he wouldn’t “What did we just talk about?”

When he stared at her blankly, she groaned in frustration.

“It’s your choice to not want to date. That’s up to you but don’t go making decisions for someone else. If someone thinks they can deal with your issues, then let them try. Let them have that choice.” She finished, feeling like she hadn’t explained herself well enough. Yet again. Her heart was beating too fast. Too hard. He had to be able to hear it.

“Don’t shut people out.” Y/N finished when he remained quiet. She was holding his hand tightly now. Her foot bounced anxiously. Frustrated at herself and at this situation. Angry at a woman she didn’t know for making Bucky feel like this. Making him feel like he didn’t deserve anyone.

Bucky was still staring at her, minutes later, mouth in a hard line. She thought maybe she made him mad. But then he chuckled and started to laugh earnestly. Shaking his head, Bucky stood, and she let go of his hand. He let out a shaky breath and scooped up his cigarette pack, tucking the finished butts into it, “Gotta give you that one. You’re right. I’m a hypocrite.”

“That’s not what I was getting at.” She protested, pouting, eyes narrowed up at him. The light from the ceiling haloed around his head.

“I know, but it’s true.” He turned, peering up the stairs that lead back to their class, “I’ll try not to go around making decisions for other people.” Bucky promised and then looked down at her. He offered her his hand, and she took it. He easily hauled her up.

Y/N couldn’t help but wonder if there was more he wasn’t saying. More that she should say. But then Bucky was changing the subject and she didn’t get the chance.

“Have you ever actually looked through the Brooklyn Museum? We come here every week and I can honestly say I’ve never seen any of it.” Bucky mused, dusting off his pants “Wanna check it out?”

She smoothed down her white blouse, dusting the grim off her jeans. Their voices carried through the stairwell, seeming louder than they were. From down below, she heard one of the doors open. Voices carried up all the flights of stairs as people started coming up their way.

They should get back to class. She had to go to another class back at Orion in less than an hour. All their stuff was waiting in the classroom. She had a dirty paintbrush. The bristles were probably ruined by now from the paint drying. Ramsey was probably wondering where they were.

“Definitely.” Y/N replied, suddenly excited. His eyes were warm when he nodded. Finally, alive again. Not fully. There was still some sadness tinged at the edges. But it was an improvement.

Bucky playfully smirked and started down the stairs backwards. Showing off. The other people were getting closer. Then he turned and waved for her to follow him. Jogging down gracefully. But she hesitated on the landing for a second. He had just reached the bend when she took a small step towards him and called, “Buck?” He paused and looked back up at her curiously, hands in his pockets “Is your hand ok?”

He brought it out and squinted down at his left hand, opening and closing his fist a couple times. The silver glinted in the florescent light, peeking out from under his hoodie sleeve. He shrugged “Ya, it doesn’t hurt anymore.” Bucky raised his eyebrows, watching her “Comin?”

Y/N nodded “Right behind you.” Then she started down the stairs after him.

Next Chapter

Tags: @boy-leave