#she's deleted every social media app in turn because they felt like they were spending too much time on their phone (which comparatively wa

[asfdhgsdkjhgb]

my girlfriend (chronically offline) recently got a flip phone and she made a picture of us the background of it :((

[bigilante]

〖 her best friend ❣ zendaya 〗

「 zendaya x gender-neutral!reader 」 ┅ 「 2.7k words 」

: a.n : back at it again with the unsolicited fics :)) i hope you guys like it 👉🏼👈🏼

⤷ : prompt : separated forcefully or for reasons you can’t control, run into each other again years later on accident.

“Do you think they’ll ever stop making headlines calling us ‘very good friends’?” You halfheartedly laughed at yet another Instagram post by some magazine that showed you and Zendaya out and about LA. “Like, the minute you hang out with any guy they’re like, ‘Oh! Date alert!’ But I’m just your ‘best friend’” You were ranting now, unable to hide the annoyance you felt.

“Why does it matter what they say?” Zendaya quizzed, her hands playing with the waist string of your sweats. She looked up at you from her slumped down position on the sofa, her faint frown making you sigh.

“Because... don’t you feel is a bit homophobic?” You wondered, placing your phone face down on top of your stomach to give her your full attention. The brunette just shrugged nonchalantly and you let out another sigh picking your phone again to close the app, “I’m gonna head out.” It was best to just leave then, you didn’t want to get in a stupid argument with her not before you were set to leave for New York the very next morning. You began to incorporate but Zendaya’s hands gripped your thighs keeping them draped over hers.

“Y/n, come on.” She said, gorgeous hazel eyes pleading at you. What exactly? You had no idea but for a second, you were about to give in however a loud ding coming from your phone stopped you. Your eyes scanned the screen and the reminder that had popped up read ‘PACK ! 4 ! N Y C !’, you sent her an apologetic glance before getting off the sofa, gathering your stuff and petting Noon goodbye.

Zendaya had stood up from the sofa too, watching your every move intently, probably trying to figure out if you were upset with her. The truth was, you didn’t know if you were upset with her or with the media, it was possible that both had a little part in your now sour mood. “See you next week, best friend. Love you.” You joked before swinging the front door open and leaving. The week was going to feel like a month, you knew, but the hope that making that simple joke followed by the declaration would ease things up was strong.

But what did hopefulness ever bring if not disappointment and heartache?

Seeing medium-quality paparazzi pictures of your girlfriend as soon as you landed from a five-hour flight wasn’t exactly the way you wanted to be welcomed to New York. You sat quietly in the back of an Uber trying not to cry as your eyes stared at the images on your phone. A series of pictures of Zendaya and Tom leaving her house, —they must had been taken that morning while you were on your way to the airport— the further you scrolled down the Twitter trends the more you felt like throwing up. Them in his car. Tom’s hand reaching for Zendaya’s jaw. Both leaning in. Kissing. Laughing.

It felt like a punch to the face, it was the worst feeling you had ever endured and the people that caused it were the last you would’ve thought could ever dare to hurt you. Your trembling hands fumbled with the settings on your account, privating it and blocking her and Tom, doing the same with Instagram followed by their numbers on your phone. It felt like doing a cleansing, the pressure in your chest easing only minimally when you locked your phone and looked out into the running city. You wanted to scream and cry, break stuff, throw your phone away and not show to work, you just wanted to go hide in your Airbnb for the rest of the week and pretend you and Zendaya never happened.

The reality was that you two had happened and it was far too hard to pretend it didn’t, your heart ached both physically and metaphorically and you hated every second of it. For that week you spent in New York no one shut up about the photos, every person you worked with had that hot, brand new ‘goss’ about the pair that had hurt you so badly.

You sat in the quiet living room of the apartment you had been living in whilst in the big city, laptop sitting in front of you as you cancelled your flight back to LA, changing the tab to the Airbnb’s one to pay for a few more days. You had been holding yourself together the whole time you were there, work keeping you busy and sleeping pills doing their magic at the end of the day but it could only go so far. Glassy, stinging eyes stared blankly at the empty inbox of your email, the cursed images projecting over the blank space and you just weren’t strong enough anymore, you couldn’t, so you cried and choked and screamed until your throat and eyes were sore; until your whole body was drained of every bit of energy.

Little by little you were sweeping your life clean of her, clearing out your phone’s camera roll, changing your number. Deleting social media was a big no for your job so filtering everything and anything that had to do with them was the only option, that and spending little to no time online. You had stopped to think one night of the what-ifs of the situation, you were aware that Zendaya’s publicist wasn’t so happy about you and her dating publically and Tom’s was obsessed with boosting the Spider-man movies at all cost, still, giving you a heads up about it would had been the right thing to do.

For a year and a half, you made yourself busy, going back and forth wasn’t something you enjoyed but it worked to avoid unwanted visits and accidental encounters. Enough time had passed, you thought as you stopped booking in so many clients across the country and settled back in your LA home. “You know what? I could go for a thick, sugary milkshake, right now.” Naomi told you as you put down your half-empty box of fried noodles on the coffee table.

“Are you serious?” You asked incredulous receiving an enthusiastic nod from your friend. “Naomi, we just had Chinese and you wanna wash it down with a milkshake?” She rolled her eyes at you when you pointed it out.

“Fine, what about Bubble U? Bubble tea is Chinese isn’t it?” She offered, her question prompting you to send her an unamused glare. “Yep, Bubble U it is, then!” Naomi jumped up, going straight to the door. Reluctantly you got up from the floor, groaning all the way to the door where you got ready to go out, “Come on! It’ll be fun!” She chirped while she pulled you out of the house. You hated to admit it but you had completely modified your life after the heartbreak, once you settled back home you barely left it, you didn’t attend parties unless it was for work or go out with your friends unless it was at any of their houses. You didn’t walk around the city that often anymore in fear of bumping into her.

“I miss this.” You sighed as you walked down Chinatown with your friend, the coldness of your drink pleasant against the palm of your hand. “Just walking around town.” You continued taking a sip of the milk tea.

“I still don’t get why you had to stop going out with us.” Naomi said inciting you to turn to look at her, “I mean, I know why it’s just… you didn’t have to stop.” She rephrased it giving you an apologetic glance. You knew how much your friends hated the idea of you not being able to be you after the whole thing with Zendaya and Tom happened but it was your way of coping with it and even though they didn’t agree with it, they supported you.

“Well, I’m outside now, aren’t I?” You nudged her side with your elbow making her giggle as she nudged you back. “Maybe this is me getting back to my old self.” Hope laced your every word as you looked around the busy street. The way the golden light of the setting sun washed over the buildings made the outing worth the risk.

LA was the second-largest city in the United States, with a population of nearly four million that one could think the chances of crossing paths with a lover-turned-stranger was one in millions, yet, there you were rooted to the pavement as your wide eyes stared at the tall and thin figure coming out of one of the many restaurants that dotted the street. “Come on, let’s go back.” Naomi said, placing her hand on the crook of your elbow ready to pull you out of there but something inside your chest told you to keep moving forward.

So you did, you started walking again letting your friend’s hand slip away from you. She was quick to follow, whisper-shouting at you that whatever you were doing probably wasn’t the best idea. The closer you got to her the more nervous you felt, it’s been over a year since you last saw her and god, was she even more beautiful than before; long legs clagged in camel coloured trousers, feet sporting her beloved black converse. Her top was white, a little see-through and you cursed at how much it still drove you absolutely crazy in the most irritating sense.

Curls tucked into an elastic on top of her head in a carefree and relaxed way, a few stubborn strands hanging out framing her face and gracing her neck. She was laughing loudly at something Darnell said, that laugh you had forced yourself to forget but the second it hit your ears, you realised how badly you had missed it. Then everything stopped, Naomi’s panicked telling off, Darnell’s chatting and Zendaya’s laughing. It all had stopped but the rambling around the four of you.

You stood in front of Darnell while Naomi stood in front of Zendaya, your friend’s usually amicable attitude disrupted by the scowl on her face as she glared Zendaya’s way only the brunette’s pupils were set on you with no apparent intention of averting. “It’s you,” She breathed out, hope barely perceivable in her tone. You only hummed at the observation, your eyes moving from hers down to her hands that were gripping the long lanyard that held her phone around her neck. Her nerves were evident then, the intensity with which she clutched it seemed to be draining the blood flow from her fingers. “I— How—” Zendaya tried to speak but failed, letting out a shaky breath. “How have you been?”

“Are you fucking kidding me!?” Naomi protested, you understood where your friend was coming from but you also needed that, you needed to speak to Zendaya just one more time to be able to finally let everything go. You needed her to confirm your theory just so you could move on and Darnell seemed to be on the same page as you for he stepped in between you and Naomi, throwing his arm around her shoulders to guide her away from you two. You heard her object some more but ultimately she complied and walked away.

“I’ve been fine. You?” You eventually spoke after short but agonising seconds of silence.

“I don’t know. There are good days among the terrible ones, so... fine, I guess?” She shrugged a shoulder. With a nod of your head, you looked past her over her shoulder to see a man pointing a camera at you, you were about to warn her when she began speaking again. “Y/n, I’m so sorry about—” Zendaya started but you shook your head no making her stop, you realised then that you did want to talk to her but not on the street in front of that many people and certainly not when there were paparazzi nearby.

“Heard the movie did well.” Your tongue betrayed your brain. Zendaya tried to speak once more but you cut her again. “I’m glad it did. Made it all worth it, didn’t it?” You faked a small smile nearly choking on the words, the anxious lump in your throat threatening to cut your airflow.

“No, It didn’t.” Zendaya denied taking a step closer to you forcing you to hold your breath with the sudden move. “I was a total asshole to you before you left, then Marla wanted me and Tom to do that for a while and I don’t even know why I did it.” She ranted in one breath.

“I upset you.” The statement earned you a furious head shake from the tall girl. “I did. I kept bugging you about the articles,” You carried on, inconspicuously your eyes started to line with tears. The more you talked the more you realised that maybe, just maybe there was a bit of blame in you too, however, that didn’t mean Zendaya was absolved from any. “You never said a thing to me about the stunt.”

“I felt like I didn’t need to, I wasn’t gonna do it.”

“But you did. The morning I left LA.” You mumbled, trying to hide from the second man with a camera that had appeared closer than the first.

“Fuck, I know it was a shitty thing to do and I’m sorry,” She took another small step forward.

“You always told me kissing in public wasn’t your thing.” You exposed, tears irrevocably breaking the surface tension and cascading down your cheeks. Flicking your gaze up at her you saw nothing but hurt and regret written all over her gorgeous face and your heart squeezed at the sight. She had never spoken about it and neither had you asked, you just felt it in your heart that she was scared of how the media would treat you both if they ever found out you were dating, you knew the times had changed but there were still closed-minded people that ran gossip magazines and could make your lives a living hell the moment they caught you holding hands in public or worst, kissing.

The murmuring around you increased, reminding you that you were in a very public place crying in front of your secret ex-girlfriend. “Fuck that.” Zendaya grumbled. One moment she was a small step away from you and the next her hands were cupping your face and her lips were softly pressed against yours. The action took your breath away instantly, still, you found yourself powerless against the familiar taste and feel of her and allowed her to kiss you as long as she wanted to in front of how many people she wanted to. There were yelps and gasps all around the two of you and you started to regain conscience and pulled away.

Wide, watery eyes staring up at the girl mere inches away from your face. “Th-there’s pap—”

“I don’t care.” She whispered before she captured your lips once more, this time deeper and twice as intensely as the first time. Your hands scurried to her waist, bringing her flush to your body as you kissed her back gladly, desperately wanting her lips to make the past year bleep out of your core memories.

The night went by slowly as if the universe was granting you more time to spend in the arms of the girl you loved. She never once let a second of silence go by you, filling it with a whispered apology and a kiss. You talked about everything the time you spent apart brought to both of you, she told you about firing her publicist right after the pictures came out, about how she understood why you had cut her off without any explanation and how bad both her and Tom felt with the whole thing.

Articles flooded the internet that very night as well as the next morning, however, neither of you knew of them right away for any device that could be hooked to a WiFi signal was rightfully turned off while you basked in the presence of each other under the covers of Zendaya’s bed.

“Spider-man Star Zendaya shares intense kiss with BFF, Celeb Stylist y/n l/n in the middle of Chinatown! Swipe to see the pictures!”

It might be 2021 but some things refused to change.

【 thank you so much for reading! ♡ please, consider reblogging and letting me know what you thought of this ♡ kit xx 】

[yougotthat-write]

Tinder (Rafael Barba x Reader)

Word Count: 2,400

Warnings: Female reader, fluff, Rollisi shenanigans, cringey and inappropriate pick-up lines, potential PTSD for former/current users of dating apps and all the awkwardness that ensues from it :)

Summary: Amanda and Sonny try to find the perfect match for their uptight (and while he would never admit it - lonely) A.D.A.

Read on AO3 here!

It had started off as a joke, really.

Rafael Barba would never sign up onto a dating app if it wasn’t against his will. When he heard the snickering of Amanda and Sonny when he stopped by the 16th precinct, his feet couldn’t help themselves but bring him over to the two detectives.

Amanda bit her cheek to settle herself as the ADA’s polished shoes made their way over. Sonny’s ears turned pink at the tips, which gave Rafael the tell-tale sign that Sonny and Amanda were up to no good.

Hands in his pockets, Rafael quipped, “What?”

Amanda and Sonny exchanged glances. The silence between the two was not a normal thing but when Rafael asked a second time - more aggressive - Sonny held out a cell phone to the lawyer. Rafael’s brows went up in question but when Sonny motioned him to take it, Rafael grabbed it. Looking down at the device, the screen lit up and a plethora of information singed itself into his brain.

Rafael Barba, 37

Manhattan, NY

Assistant District Attorney

Oh baby, I’ll give you so much due process, standing will be the only issue.

Rafael’s eyes widened at the dumb pick-up line. His thumb swiped through the photos. One was of an appearance on the news - dressed up in a suit on the steps of the courthouse with a furrowed brow and serious look on his face. One was him at Forlini’s - scowling over the rim of his bourbon while sitting at the bar next to a grinning Sonny. He remembered when Amanda took this picture. It was the day he told Sonny he could be his second chair. Another picture showed him actually smiling - dressed in a Tom Ford tuxedo, champagne flute in one hand while the other was resting on the waist of his date for that night. She was an oil company lobbyist that he hooked up with sometimes when she wasn’t in D.C.

“What is this?” Rafael’s eyes hardened as he looked up at the two detectives. Sonny flinched at Rafael’s tone. Amanda simply blinked at Rafael. She wasn’t one to deal with attitude willingly but given how uptight Rafael could be sometimes, she was letting it slide. Rafael’s eyes went back down to the dating profile and he felt an annoyance bubble within him. “What the hell is this?”

“Calm down,” Amanda said as she grabbed the phone back with a roll of her eyes. “It’s just a dating profile.”

“Of me!” Rafael looked at Amanda like she was speaking some foreign, alien language. “Why does it exist?”

Sonny’s face seemed to become more pink. A hand went to the back of his neck, rubbing it as his mentor for all intents and purposes became more annoyed. “We just thought it would be fun-”

“You thought it would be fun impersonating a Manhattan A.D.A.!” Rafael’s voice was raised. A few passing officers gave some glances to the group. Amanda waved a dismissive hand to one of them, letting them know that Rafael wasn’t someone to worry about when angry. “You’re lucky I don’t have you arrested.”

Amanda snorted, “We were going to tell you about it when we got you a date.”

“Yeah,” Sonny added, “we just thought you were stressed lately and needed someone to... ya know.”

If looks could kill, Rafael Barba would have murdered two very well-liked and very hard working detectives right then and there in a New York police precinct. He would have to tell Olivia that she would be short staffed for god knows how long.

Rafael’s fingers came up to pinch the bridge of his nose, taking a hard breath before looking back at the detectives. “You think I need your help getting laid?”

Sonny’s mouth gaped like a goldfish, trying to find words but nothing seemed to make itself at home in his pretty little head. He looked over at Amanda with wide eyes, hoping for her to smooth over the situation. Amanda simply shrugged her shoulders, “It’s not that we think you can’t get laid, Counselor,” she paused, eyes almost sympathetic and it made Rafael’s nostrils flare, “you just haven’t had… anyone around… long-term, you know?”

“I’m struggling to find where this is any of your concern,” Rafael pointed a finger at the two of them, “or why you would think I would find it on a dating app.” Rafael’s mind was flooding with things to make the lives of these two detectives a living hell. Maybe if he pulled some strings with Olivia, she’d put them on desk duty for a few weeks. “I want it deleted - get rid of it!”

Amanda held the device out of the prosecutor’s reach, giving him a few nods of understanding but she needed to tell him of one important thing, “But before we do that, you should know that there’s someone who matched with you-” Sonny nodded enthusiastically, “and she messaged you - us? - back.”

“It’s why we were laughing,” Sonny’s smile faltered when met with the fiery gaze of Rafael. He cleared his throat before continuing, “we found the dumb pick-up line on the internet and she shot back with one of her own.”

Rafael’s fire was lessened with the mention of a match. And she happened to message him? Amanda stepped closer to Rafael, finger mindlessly swiping from one screen and to another. There Rafael had seen the actual large amount of messages he was getting. “Seems like more than one match.” He muttered under his breath. And while this whole ordeal wasn’t something he necessarily wanted, the temporary boost of his ego made his shoulders straighten and his tongue dart over his lower lip.

“You’re very popular, Counselor,” Amanda’s brows wagged.

“But we like her the most,” Sonny said, “she seems fun!”

Rafael’s eyes rolled, before they settled on Amanda’s phone.

Are you the Court of Appeals because I’m tryna get overturned.

After he read the message, he couldn’t help the snicker. Back in his Harvard days, Rafael had heard just about every dumb pick-up line you could think of that was in the realm of lawyers. He may have even used a few of them but could you blame the guy. Rafael watched Amanda switch over to your profile.

Rafael swallowed. And then he grabbed the phone out of Amanda's hands. She let out a protest but Rafael had taken a few steps away and studied your profile like it was a law book and he had a final the next day.

It stated your name and your age. Then the same location as Rafael - Manhattan, NY. Your job was stated simply as a lawyer. Huh. That certainly piqued Rafael’s interest. In your bio, you had:

What better alibi could you have than spending the night with me?

He swiped through your photos. One was of you at the Central Park Zoo, scowling at a monkey who was seemingly doing the same thing back at you. Another was of you at a bar or a club - one arm thrown over the shoulder of another woman and a fruity drink held in your free hand. Your attention was focused on your drink rather than your friend or the person taking the picture. The last photo was of you at a brunch of some kind. You held up a mimosa with a wide smile and a large sun hat atop your head.

“Did you say anything back?” Rafael asked. Amanda shook her head with a smirk. You were certainly attractive and if you had taken the time to message Rafael on the cursed app then you must have thought that he was attractive too. He went back to the message you sent and swallowed again. “W-what should I say?”

Amanda’s smirk didn’t falter as she stepped over to Rafael, plucking the phone out of his frozen hands. Rafael heard the speedy tapping of the blonde woman’s fingers, tapping out a message quickly. Sonny stepped over, peeking down over Amanda’s shoulder. Rafael watched Sonny’s face as it went from curiosity to what Amanda was writing and to a lopsided smile, essentially giving his approval of the message.

Rafael didn’t like the idea of Sonny approving anything of his - especially if it came to how he got a date but he patiently waited until a swoosh noise came from the phone. Rafael stepped over to see what she had written but Amanda’s fingers were quick with logging out of the app and swiftly deleting it off her phone.

“Hey-” Rafael couldn’t stop the protest from his lips, brows furrowed. Amanda ignored him, grabbing a sticky note and a pen. She scrawled the login information for the account and slapped it onto his chest.

“I don’t want it on my phone if that conversation starts to get dirty,” Amanda said. Sonny chuckled.

“I think it started out pretty fiery.”

Rafael held the sticky note in his fingers. He could feel his phone in his suit pocket. It felt hot and electric against him, even through all the layers of clothes he wore. “Nevertheless, I’m deleting the account,” he looked over the two detectives with a hard gaze, “and you are to never to do this again. Or else I will be put in jail for voluntary manslaughter.” Amanda swiftly ignored Rafael’s threat whereas Sonny seemed to take it more seriously. The lanky man gave a nod before settling himself at his desk.

Rafael stepped away from the detectives’ desks and dug his phone out from his pocket. His fingers twitched and he felt this wave of embarrassment wash over him as he searched the app’s name and watched it download onto his phone. It seemed to take hours for the dumb thing to fully be situated onto his device. He tapped it, used the sticky note information to log in and was greeted with new profiles to swipe across. He ignored them and went to his messages to see what the pesky blonde detective had said. He hoped it wasn’t something too inappropriate. The last thing Rafael needed was headlines of him sexually harassing women over social media.

He hesitated for a second before tapping on the messages with you. He took a deep breath. He felt nervous. Was it because of the potential can of worms that Amanda could have unleashed? Was it because he found you attractive? Was it because the two detectives were right and it had been a while since he’s had anyone around? While Rafael was capable of finding a temporary suitor to share his bed, he couldn’t find anyone to become something more permanent.

His eyes searched the screen, brain trying to quickly decipher the jumble of letters on his screen. “Ay Dios mío,” Rafael muttered under his breath and the grip on his phone tightened. Rafael thought he read the message a dozen times, just over and over again, trying to really see if Amanda truly did send this to you. He tapped various spaces on his phone, trying to see if there was an undo button but to no avail, the message taunted him.

Something something dictum. Sleep with me.

Rafael was caught off guard by Olivia who called his name from her office door. Rafael cleared his throat, slid his phone back into his pocket with one hand and slid the other down his chest, smoothing out any wrinkles in his shirt. Rafael finally remembered why he was there at the precinct. He needed to do his job and watch a line-up be conducted. Olivia had sounded very confident over the phone, so he figured he had a simple day.

He had spent the rest of his day watching various victims come forward to pick out their attacker confidently. When the defense lawyer monotonously asked to speak with his client after the lineups were done, Rafael felt his phone buzz. For a brief moment, Rafael had forgotten the dating app debacle. He wondered if it was Carmen, telling him of more paperwork and messages that needed to be signed and answered.

But no, it wasn’t Carmen.

It was a notification from the stupid app.

You have a new message!

Rafael bit down on his bottom lip, finger hovering over the notification. He took a breath and tapped his phone. God, what is wrong with me? Grow some cojones, Barba. Rafael watched the screen load and then plaster your message into his line of vision.

Ah, this definitely is a catfish account because there’s no way an ADA would use a line like that.

Rafael smirked. Took a moment to think and then started to type.

The DA has very low standards these days.

You messaged back quickly.

If they’re hiring based on looks, then I’d say they have very high standards, Counselor.

Rafael’s hand lifted to scratch at his jaw, a smile breaking across his face. His eyes widened at another message from you.

Does the prosecution want to rest at my place later tonight?

The forwardness from you made Rafael’s smile turn into a smirk. If Olivia or Sonny had seen him, they would even consider to call it a cocky smirk.

Would you want to meet for drinks first or just take this back to chambers?

I suppose I could side-bar for some drinks.

Great!

He paused before sending another message.

Let’s just agree to not use any more lawyer puns.

Objection!

After setting up a time to meet up at a swanky bar later that night, Rafael entered the bullpen again but with an air of confidence about him. Amanda noticed the shift in energy within the counselor. The corner of her mouth ticked up, fingers fiddling with a pen as she leaned back in her chair, side-eyeing Rafael. “Line-up went well?”

Rafael picked a piece of nonexistent lint off his suit jacket. “It went great, Rollins.” She hummed quietly, eyes studying every inch of his face with amusement.

“We’re heading to Forlini’s tonight,” Amanda stated, “would you like to come?” At the mention of Forlini’s, Sonny peeked over at the two of them from his laptop.

Rafael gave one curt shake of his head. “I’m afraid I’m busy tonight.” And with that, Rafael had turned and exited the bullpen and towards the elevator. Even though he hated it in theory of what Amanda and Sonny did, Rafael couldn’t deny that he didn’t not like the outcome of it.

[hookingminor]

highly requested part 2 to this angsty blurb, and this marks the end of my 2k blurb weekend! thank you all for joining me and I hope you enjoyed!

-

Matthew wandered back to the hotel well after midnight.

The rehearsal dinner ended around nine in the evening, but after spending an hour on that deck thinking about everything you said, he decided to take a long walk around the neighborhood.

He wandered through the church venue Willow had booked and sat at the pews for a few minutes, taking in all the decorations that were already set up. Then, he made his way back to the barn where the reception would take place, and all of it just felt wrong: the decor, the table settings, the flowers, none of it felt right.

Matthew didn’t put much thought into the wedding, per Willow’s requests, but it only hit him just how little he contributed to all of it as he sat on his hotel bed and thought about what his ideal wedding would look like.

He didn’t even want to get married in Calgary.

It made sense he would since Willow had lived here her whole life, but Matthew always imagined his wedding taking place in St. Louis where his entire family and all his friends could attend. Besides his immediate family and teammates, no one else could make the long trip to Calgary for his wedding.

When Matthew pictured his wedding, he also pictured you standing at the end of the aisle, too. Matthew was sure Willow’s dress would be gorgeous and she would look absolutely beautiful tomorrow, but when he pictured you standing there in her place, he was filled with a fluttering of butterflies in his stomach he couldn’t deny.

Which is what led him to knocking on Willow’s door at one in the morning.

It took a few minutes before she woke, bleary eyed and confused as to why her fiance was seeking her out so late in the night. “Matthew? What is it? You’re not supposed to see me before the wedding.” She pulled her robe tighter around her body, as if trying to shield Matthew’s eyes from her.

That was another superstition Matthew didn’t like. He nearly begged Willow to spend the night with him before the wedding, not buying into the ‘bad luck’ bullshit people always said about sleeping together before the ceremony, but she wouldn’t budge.

“I know, I’m sorry for the intrusion, but I think we need to talk,” Matthew said. He was still dressed in his suit from the dinner, though he’d shed his jacket and tie long ago. Willow’s face fell at his words, but she let him inside her room anyway.

Matthew sat on the edge of the bed awkwardly and fiddled with his thumbs as Willow sat next to him. Silence filled the room. Matthew didn’t know how to say it.

“Is this about Y/N?” Willow asked calmly after a few minutes passed. “I saw you two talking outside earlier.”

Matthew looked at his fiance, her eyes sad and face dismal. He nodded.

“I figured,” she sighed.

“I’m sorry,” Matthew said because he didn’t know what else to say.

Then Willow said the most unexpected thing.

“It’s okay.”

Matthew’s confusion was clear on his face, and Willow let out a genuine laugh as she took his hand in hers.

“I thought if you saw her and she moved on, we could’ve made this work, but that wasn’t the case, was it?” She asked, and Matthew nodded again.

“I can’t say I’m surprised,” she continued. “I always knew you still loved her.”

“I really did love you,” Matthew said. “I do love you… it’s just…”

“You love her more,” Willow finished for him.

“I am sorry,” Matthew pleaded. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, but then I saw her and… I can’t let her go.”

“I know,” Willow said, squeezing his hand comfortingly, and then let out a deep sigh. “Well, I guess we better tell our folks the wedding’s off, huh?”

-

Matthew showed up to your place a month later.

He stood outside your apartment, nervous and shaking, with a bouquet of your favorite flowers in his hands. You hadn’t heard from him since booking the first flight out of Calgary, dodging all his calls and texts that came in over the week after his wedding. You effectively stayed off social media, deleting all the apps you knew you still had Matthew on in fear of seeing wedding pictures.

The surprise on your face was evident when you answered the door to find Matthew on the other side.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on your honeymoon or something?” You asked.

“I didn’t go through with it. I couldn’t after seeing you,” Matthew explained. “Can I come in?”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you let Matthew follow you inside. He’d never seen your apartment before. You’d moved places shortly after your breakup, trying to erase the memories of Matthew that existed on every surface of your old apartment.

He held out the flowers for you, which you took and placed into a vase and filled with water. Matthew’s eyes roamed your new place, taking in all the photos you had on your fridge to the books you kept on your bookshelves.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Matthew?” You asked.

Matthew’s gaze focused back on you. “I always hated it when you called me Matthew.” A smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“What do you want?” You rephrased, ignoring his comment.

“I want to give us another shot,” Matthew answered confidently.

You weren’t quite sure what you were expecting him to say, but it was definitely not that.

“Matthew—”

“And before you tell me how bad of an idea it is, because I know that’s what you’re about to say, just hear me out.”

Your mouth snapped shut and you waited for him to continue.

“I love you. I’m in love with you. I have been for years, and I’m never going to not be in love with you,” Matthew said. “After you left, I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and I realized that marrying Willow wasn’t what I wanted. When I picture my future I see you in it. I see you at the end of that aisle on our wedding day. I see you and me in a house with a dog and maybe a few kids. I see you waiting for me at home at the end of the day, and I see you beside me when I wake up in the morning.”

“Matthew, we tried this before,” you sighed. “We tried the long distance, and it didn’t work.”

“And I’m willing to try again,” Matthew replied, crossing the few feet of space between you to cup your face in his hands. “We were young and dumb and immature, and I pressured you to change your life for me when I shouldn’t have. I’m not asking you to pack up your life and move to Calgary right now. Hell, if you don't ever want to move to Canada, you don’t have to. I’ll move to wherever you want to be because wherever you are is where I belong.”

“I’m in this for the long haul,” he added. “There is no one else out there for me, and there never will be.”

Tears welled in your eyes at his profession, and Matthew’s thumb came to swipe at a stray tear that rolled down your cheek.

“What makes you think this time will be different?” You questioned softly.

“Because I’m different. We’re different. And I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make you happy. You’re all I want.”

“You’d really request a trade for me?” Matthew nodded.

“It wasn’t fair to put that all on you then, and I know that. I shouldn’t have asked you to do something I wasn’t willing to do myself, but I’m telling you now that I’d do anything for you,” he answered.

Throwing your arms around Matthew’s neck, you pressed your entire body into his. Arms tightened around your torso, keeping you snug against him, and Matthew tucked your head into his chest.

“So what do you say? Can you give me a second chance?” He mumbled into your hair.

“I think we’re well past second chances,” you chuckled.

“I promise it’ll be the last one you need to give me,” Matthew laughed, grasping the base of your neck.

In an attempt to blink away his own tears, a few streamed down his cheeks. Leaning forward, you kissed away the tears, leaving his cheeks wet, but Matthew had a dopey grin on his face all the same.

“I’m all in,” you replied to his question, and Matthew had to take a second to make sure he heard you correctly.

His grin spread wider, and he crashed his lips to yours, both of your smiles getting in the way but neither of you cared. Matthew peppered your face in kisses: your brow, your cheeks, your nose, your chin. There was not one inch of skin he left untouched.

You giggled in his arms, twisting your face to the side to avoid the tickling of his scruff against your cheeks, but he kept you close to his body.

“I love you,” he said finally, “and I’m sorry it took me so long to get my shit together.”

You caught his lips in a deep kiss. “All that matters is you’re here now.”

“Oh, I forgot something,” Matthew said, pulling back just enough to reach his hand into his pocket. 

A small box rested in the palm of his hand, and he opened it to show you the necklace he gifted to you nearly three years ago. When everything ended, you’d given it back to him, and he’d kept it tucked away in his bedside drawer since then.

The dainty ‘19’ hung from the chain, and Matthew undid the hook and looked at you with hopeful eyes. Your stomach did a flip as you turned around, and Matthew draped the jewelry around your neck, connecting it in the back and placing a soft kiss on the skin right above it.

“Now everything’s right where it belongs.”

[wordsandshawn]

Breakup Letter

This is based on a request where y/n is blackmailed to break up with Shawn, so of course there’s angst. Hope you enjoy!

|| message me || masterlist ||

Word count: 3.4k

~

Tears fall from your eyes because of the heartbreak making a home in your chest. As you take pen to paper, it feels so wrong and the opposite of what you really want. It makes you feel like a horrible person, but you feel so trapped and you don’t know what else to do. This is for the best, you keep reminding yourself, but it still doesn’t change the sinking feeling in your stomach and the ache in your chest. Your heart hurts so much at the thought of not being with Shawn anymore. It hurts so much that you feel physically sick.

Shawn is so proud of the reputation he has created. Not only is he proud of it, but it also serves as the foundation to his career. Part of his appeal is how clean cut and genuine he is. He was young when he was discovered, and his past is relatively unproblematic. He is notoriously a nice guy, and from personal experience, you can attest to the fact that he deserves every bit of the reputation he has acquired.

Although you’ve been dating Shawn for nearly nine months, he’s also in the middle of a publicity relationship with a singer that is supposed to promote both of their careers. Ever since the beginning of your relationship, you and Shawn agreed to keep it private. At first, it seemed like the best idea. Then the publicity relationship came up, and after discussing it at length, both you and Shawn agreed that it was just another part of his career. You felt confident in your relationship and you truly viewed the fake relationship as part of his job.

After he started the publicity relationship about two months ago, it became even more important that you kept your relationship a secret. If Shawn was caught with you, there would be repercussions that could affect his reputation and career.

Earlier today, you received a text message that made your world stop and left you feeling like you had no choice, leading you to writing the letter, packing up your stuff, and walking out of the condo you shared with Shawn in Toronto.

Break up with him or these will be sent to TMZ and everyone will know he’s a cheater and a liar.

Reading the words made your heart nearly stop, even before you viewed the attached pictures. Your hand holding your phone was shaking so much, you couldn’t see anything clearly, but you didn’t have to. As terrifying as it was to receive that threat, your immediate reaction was to tell Shawn. You were confident that he would know how to handle it, that you would figure it out together and things would be okay. You didn’t think you would ever oblige to this outrageous demand.

However, as you clicked off of the message, starting to open facetime to call Shawn, a second text appeared. And don’t even think of telling him this is the reason. If you tell him instead of breaking up, his career will be ruined. These photos aren’t the only thing we have on him.

After reading the second message, you didn’t immediately click facetime. Instead, you let the words sink in. You read and reread the messages, trying to wrack your brain for what to do next as everything suddenly felt like it was falling apart.

An hour later, the letter is completely written, and most of your items are out of his condo. You leave the breakup note on his kitchen counter along with your keys and take your bags, showing up on your best friend’s doorstep.

She ushers you in as the tears roll down your face. She’s asking questions, none of which you answer. Taking your bags and putting them aside, she walks you over to the couch, making sure you sit down before going to the kitchen to make tea. You take this time to respond to the person who sent you those earlier messages, I did it. Now delete those pictures.

You pray that this will be enough to assure those photos are never released and Shawn’s career survives unscathed. Shawn won’t receive the letter until he returns to Toronto tomorrow, a homecoming that you had both been looking forward to since the day he left a week ago, but now his return will only mean him reading the letter and everything changing. Suddenly, you’re dreading tomorrow instead of looking forward to it.

That evening, you share the briefest possible explanation with Tiana, your best friend. You tell her that things weren’t working out between you and Shawn, and that you had decided you needed to take a break from the relationship, to move out. She’s blindsided by this information because she thought everything was going well between the two of you and she can’t believe you would decide to move out so quickly. You lie, telling her that things hadn’t been good and that you and Shawn weren’t seeing eye to eye anymore.

The next afternoon, you’re still on the couch, having barely moved in twenty-four hours. You can tell Tiana is worried, but she doesn’t say anything, knowing that you’re getting over a breakup and you’re allowed to mope.

The doorbell rings, and you immediately tear your gaze away from the tv to meet your best friend’s eyes. She looks confused at first, but you scamper off the couch and into the hallway where you’ll be hidden from view if she opens the door. You don’t say a word, but you know it’s Shawn on the other side of the door because his flight has landed, and he probably made it back to the condo, meaning he saw the note. You expected that Shawn would show up here once he read the note and realized you were gone. You had turned off your phone because you couldn’t take the thought of seeing any messages from him, and you didn’t trust yourself not to reply and run back to him.

Although you can’t see, you hear the door open, and then Shawn’s voice. He doesn’t bother with pleasantries. “I know she’s here. Please let me talk to her.”

“Who?” Tiana replies, playing dumb.

“Y/n. I know she’s here. Please just let me see her.” He pleads.

“No. She wants space, Shawn. Just go home.” She responds, coldly. Tiana is one of the kindest, sweetest people you know, but she knows how to act tough when she has to, something you’ve always admired about her.

“She can have space. She can have all the space she needs, but it can’t end, not like this. I just need to talk to her. Just for two minutes,” The last word falls from his lips in an almost desperate whisper, “Please.”

His last plea almost breaks your resolve, but you remind yourself that this is for the best. You remind yourself that this has to be how things go, and you remain hidden, even as your heart breaks at the sound of his voice, at the way he sounds so broken.  

“Go home Shawn.”

“Y/n,” Shawn shouts loudly, knowing you’re in the apartment and you can probably hear him. “Please, y/n, please talk to me.” Is the last thing you hear before the door closes. Seconds later, you’re face to face with your best friend and you collapse into her as the tears fall again.

She guides you back to the couch where she sits down next to you, trying to understand what is going on and what you are going to do next. “You sure you don’t want to just talk to him?” She questions softly.

You shake your head, fresh tears streaming down your cheeks.

“Did he do something? You can tell me. Did he cheat? Did he mess up?” She asks.

You shake your head again. He did nothing wrong. Well nothing except maybe accepting advice from his PR team, but you can’t exactly fault him for that. It’s part of his job, to listen to them. They’re supposed to have his best interest at heart. They’re supposed to be in control of catapulting his career to the next level, of curating the reputation, the character of Shawn that sells the most. That’s their job.  

“Y/n,” She says with a sigh, “What’s so bad that you can’t just talk to him? When has there ever been something you couldn’t talk to Shawn about?”

“I can’t talk to him about this.” You finally manage to say.

“What about me? Can you talk to me about it?” She questions, and you can tell she’s starting to feel worried. Even she can sense that this is more than just a regular break up. When you shake your head, and then pull away from her, she senses that you’re not ready to talk about it. The truth is, you’re not sure you’ll ever be ready to talk about it. Although she wants to push you for more information, she doesn’t. She simply rubs your back and lets you cry until you’ve run out of tears and fall asleep on her couch.

The next few days pass in a blur of tears. You manage to pull yourself together enough to show up to work each day, but that takes everything you have in you, so by the time you get back to Tiana’s apartment, you’re exhausted and end up falling asleep super early only to wake up about an hour later and spend the rest of the night tossing and turning.

You block Shawn’s phone number and delete all your social media apps. If you didn’t need your phone for work, you probably would have turned it off and put it in a drawer somewhere. You know that Shawn has been contacting Tiana almost nonstop, so you can only imagine your phone is flooded with messages from him. You know it isn’t fair to him to end the relationship like this and he probably hates you for it, but it is the only way to keep Shawn safe and give him a chance to be happy in the future.

Shawn’s happiness is what means the most to you, so if you have to leave his life in order for his hopes and dreams to come true, that’s what you’ll do, no matter how much it hurts you. That’s what you do for someone you love more than anything.

It’s been another long day at work, and you can’t wait to get home just so you can fall asleep. Anything that allows you not to feel the deep ache in your chest has quickly become your favorite past times, which basically means alcohol and sleep.

As you’re walking to your car, you see someone out of the corner of your eye. At first, you don’t think anything of it, assuming its someone else walking to their car after work to. However, when that person continues to follow you, your pace quickens, fear rising within you.

You’re almost to your car when you her your name called out in a familiar voice. You spin around just to come face to face with Shawn. “Are you stalking me?” You question. The pull you feel in your heart is so strong it takes all your energy to not run into his arms. You’ve missed him so much. All you want is for him to wrap his arms around you and tell you he loves you and everything is going to be okay.

“No, maybe.” He says, stopping a foot away from you and running his fingers through his hair. He looks hurt, and you can’t blame him.

“Shawn, you can’t be here.” You say, looking around, worried about being seen. He has to know that it’s risky to his publicity relationship. Even when you were together, you never stood around talking in a public parking lot. Truthfully, you never had to.

“You won’t answer my calls. Tiana won’t let me in. What else was I supposed to do?” He questions, sounding desperate.

“We can’t be seen together,” You say, almost frantically, still glancing around. You’re worried about Shawn’s publicity relationship if you’re spotted, but more than that, you’re worried about the threat in the text message, the even bigger threat to Shawn if you didn’t do what they said.

Shawn steps closer to you, “What’s wrong? What happened? Are you okay?” Shawn is probably the only boy in the world who could get broken up with and then show up at your workplace to ask if you’re okay. That’s one of the reasons you love him so much, one of the reasons you’re not sure if you’ll ever be able to stop loving him, no matter what happens.

“Nothing happened, Shawn.” You lie.

He steps closer, his pull on you only getting stronger with the closer proximity.

Knowing you can’t be this close to him without completely breaking down, you shove him. You take two of your hands, press them flat against his chest and push him back. He takes a step back, caught off guard.

“I don’t want to be with you.” Saying those words and pushing him away hurt you more than everything so far. Writing a letter and ignoring his phone calls is one thing but lying through your teeth is a completely different kind of pain.

“I don’t believe you.” He says so forcefully it catches you off guard. Truthfully, you’ve hurt him so much, and you don’t understand why he won’t just give up on you. What you’ve done is unforgivable, and he doesn’t deserve any of it. But somehow, he knows that this is more than you just deciding to hurt him and walk away without even talking to him or trying to fix things. He knows you so well that he knows you wouldn’t do this to him. A part of you is grateful that he doesn’t believe this act you’re putting up, but the other part of you wishes he would just let it go, hate you for a while, and then move on and be happy. That’s all you want for him.

You take a deep breath as tears flood your eyes. “I can’t,” You whisper.

“Meet me at the condo, please. Just talk to me. I can fix it. I know I can, but I just need you to tell me what’s going on with you.”

Shawn presses your elevator key card into your hand, the key card you had left on the counter next to the condo key and the note.

“Please.” He breathes, before turning and walking back to his car, knowing how risky it is to stand around in this parking any longer. You get into your car, and double check the parking lot one more time, making sure that no one spotted the two of you together, and then you sit there in the parking lot and cry.

You saw Shawn’s car leave shortly after you got into your car. He couldn’t stay, but you know that he’s going back to his condo to wait for you. After sitting in your car until you run out of tears, you turn your car on and drive out of the parking lot. You thought you hadn’t made a decision, but when you park your car in the designated stall next to Shawn’s car in the condo’s underground lot, you realize the decision was made the second Shawn pressed the key card into your hand. As much as you wanted to stay away to protect him, it was breaking you, and knowing that he wasn’t willing to give up on you so easily made you realize that you weren’t able to give up on him like that either.

You barely knock twice before the door swings open, revealing Shawn. “You came,” He whispers in disbelief.

“I’m sorry,” The words fall from your lips just like your resolve to keep this a secret from him.

“Please, just tell me what’s going on.” He pleads, stepping back and letting you enter the condo before closing the door behind you.

You turn to face him, taking a deep breath, and it feels like everything crumbles around you. You watch this beautiful boy, the boy you love more than you’ve ever loved anyone before, and you remember the threat. Fear rises within you again. As much as you want to fall into his arms, you’re scared. Finally, you say, “Your music has to come first. Your career comes first, and I just can’t be the person you need right now.”

“That’s bullshit, and I think you know it. My music has never come before you. Music, that’s my job, but you—you’re my life, y/n. You’re never not the person I need, right now, and always.” That sentence causes you to stop in your tracks. Everything freezes for a moment as you simply stare at Shawn. “I’d give up music in a second if that meant you’d move back home with me and I could wake up next to you every day.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to give it up.” You whisper, hesitantly looking up at him.

“I know, but I’m telling you I would. If I had to choose, I’d choose you every time.” He says sincerely.

You sigh, closing your eyes then taking a deep breath. When you open your eyes again, you say, “I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

“You’re really freaking me out. Please, just tell me what is going on. Y/n, you can tell me anything, you know that right?” Shawn says, taking your hand in his. Now that you’re alone in his apartment, you can’t think of a single reason not to let him touch you.

You pull your phone from your pocket and unlock it, opening the text from the unfamiliar number and showing it to Shawn. He reads the text and you watch his expression turn to anger. You expected him to be afraid, just like you were when you read it, but he’s not.

After a few seconds, some of the anger melts away, and Shawn says, “That’s it? That’s why you broke up with me?”

You nod, “I’m sorry Shawn. I’m so sorry. I was scared. I am scared about what is going to happen to you.” You ramble, but Shawn just shakes his head, stepping closer to you. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close.

“Y/n, love, nothing’s going to happen. I’ll call Andrew, we’ll get the number traced, it’s okay.” He reassures you.

“But Shawn, they said they had stuff on you, stuff that could ruin your career.”

“How bad could it be?” He questions, sounding so carefree, almost like he’s not feeling the weight of the situation.

“I don’t know, that’s why it’s scary. I mean, how did they get those pictures of us? We’re so careful.” You say, inwardly chastising yourself just thinking about it.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Shawn says, trying to get you to stop thinking and stop freaking out, even just for a moment. “It’s okay. I know you were scared, but I’m not letting us end this relationship because someone on the other side of a screen told us to.”

“I’m sorry.” You say again, hiding your face against his chest.

“I know you are,” He says softly, kissing the top of your head. “It’s okay. We’re okay.” He pauses, just holding you in his arms as you treasure the feeling of being close to him that you so desperately craved for so long.

“But don’t ever do that again, Y/n. Next time you want to break up with me, at least talk to me about it first.”

He tries to lighten his tone, so it comes off as a joke, but you hear that sense of fear in his voice, the feeling of fear of losing you. You know because you feel the exact same way. Even though you were the one who initiation the breakup, and even though you knew exactly why you had to do it, to protect Shawn, you don’t ever want to have to go through that again.

“I promise I won’t ever do that again,” You respond, meaning every word of that promise.

“Good.” He says, a small smile forming on his face before letting you out of his grasp. You meet his gaze as he says, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

[miyaniacs]

Distance

a/n: hey there, felt like writing a lil angst again, it’s not too bad though :) again, tell me if you want a second part and if you want to get tagged (comment or sent an ask) ALSO not  Tumblr deleting my post right after posting so here you go again.

masterlist

characters: Oikawa Tooru x fem!reader  (but I try to keep it as gn as possible and avoid using female pronouns/ characteristics)

format: angst oneshot

warnings: angst, mentions of cheating

It’s so hard to look at your phone right now.

On screen you see the beautiful face of your boyfriend. His soft brown hair into his face, his eyes are closed, his mouth slightly open. He is shirtless and thanks to the light of his own phone you can make out parts of his toned arms.

But why is it hard to look at such a beautiful few?

Well, the fact that he lives across the world.

You just woke up and he just fall asleep.

Your fingers ghost over your screen, over the picture of his soft skin. How badly you wish to be with him right now, to be in his arms, to caress his cheek, to play with his hair, to feel his lips on yours again.

You mumble a soft “I love you.”, and end the call.

You missed him so badly, your heat arches every time you see him on your screen.

Forcing yourself out of the bed, you get dressed, putting on the beautiful necklace Oikawa gifted you on your first year anniversary and put your hair in a bun. Putting your laptop and Keyes you leave your home, heading to a small cafe, in hopes to finally start your essay.

Three pages later, someone sits down in front of you.

Looking up, you see Luca  one of your classmates.

“Hey Y/N.“  He smiles brightly and places a new cup of coffee next to you laptop, “For you, I thought you need it.“ He smiles even more now. With a smile you thank him and take a sip of the coffee.

“Did you already finished the essay?“ You ask with a sigh looking at your document.

“Finished it last night.“ He laughs and adds: “Do you need some help?“ Thankfully you accept his offer.

A few coffees later, you finally click “Sent“ on your email browser and close the laptop.

“Thank you so much!“ You look up at him, your head resting on your closed laptop.

You never really looked at him. His skin is tanned, dark brown hair, which he is right now pushing backwards. His eyes are a beautiful golden color, dark long lashes, making them even more prominent. From the perspective you got, you can clearly see the muscles flex under his shirt, as he pushes his hair back, his prominent jawline perfectly displayed as he slightly tilts his head to the side. His full lips turn into a smile as he waves his hand in front of your face.

“Hey? Y/n? I was asking something.“ He laughs and you snap out of your thoughts. “Sorry..“ You mumble embarrassed.

“It’s fine, I was just asking if you want to grab something for dinner?“ He repeats and lightly scratches his neck.

“Yes sure!“ You smile and start packing your stuff. On your way out, your phone vibrates.

Looking at it, you smile seeing it was a video call from your boyfriend. Quick you throw your back over your shoulder and tell Luca that you have to get this call real quick.

“Hey sleeping beautyyy.“ You tease as soon as you see Oikawas face.

“Hey, I need to keep up with your beauty.“ He winks and you blush. Luca walking next to you chuckles. “Oh, are you busy love?“ Oikawa asks.

“No, I just finished my essay thanks to Luca, and we’re about to get something to eat now.“ You smile and move your phone, so Oikawa was able to see the male, walking next to you. Frowning his brows, he looks at the phone. “Ahhh, I’m glad you finally finished it.“ He forces a smile, “Love, I’m sorry but I have to hang up now, practice starts earlier today.“ He lies and after saying your goodbyes he immediately puts the phone away.

He really doesn’t want to be jealous, he knew he can trust you, but seeing some random guy, doing what he is supposed to do? Helping you with your essays, taking you out to dinner … he’s supposed to be that person. Opening the calendar app, he checks his schedule.

“Perfect“ he  mumbles and opens google.

4 weeks later

The past weeks, yours and Oikawas Video chats got shorter and shorter, sometimes you even declined his call. You felt bad for it yes, but it was finals week and you spent all nighters all the time, together with Luca. The two of you got along really well and started spending more and more time together, growing pretty close.

He was always nice and helpful, not even complaining when you fell asleep on him while studying.

Today was the day of your last test, putting on one of the random hoodies, laying in your room, you hurry to your University, trying to call Oikawa, hoping to get some encouraging words from him, yet he didn’t pick up. “He probably is already asleep.“ You think and continue walking.

Still sad form not hearing your boyfriends voice that morning, you see Luca standing at the entrance of the University.

“Hey -  wait Y/n? What’s wrong? You just have to pass this test, we don’t get any grades, don’t ne too nervous.“ He says trying to cheer you up.

“No… I’m not nervous, I’m just sad, my boyfriend didn’t pick up today.“ You sigh. Putting an arm around your shoulders, he responds: “Well, it’s his loss, not seeing your beautiful face before he sleeps.“  It was normal for him to say things like that. He knew you had a boyfriend and you just assumed, he’s just naturally flirty, just like you and well… Oikawa.

“I just try calling him later that day..“ You sigh and together you two enter your classroom, ready to end this hell of a week.

A few hours later

“FREEDOM!“ You laugh at Luca, while you two walk down the hallways of your University.

“Ayyy, there’s your beautiful smile again.“ He teases and pokes your nose. „I just miss him, that’s all.“ You sigh. Luca remains silent and continues walking. Just as you two walk out of the building, Luca a few steps ahead, he stops  and spins around, standing right in front of you, grabbing your hands. You look up into his golden eyes, which seem to be glowing in the sunlight, but it wasn’t only the sunlight, there was a certain passion lighting them up.

“Luca? What are you doing?“ You ask confused.

“Y/n… I’m so sick to always see you sad. Shouldn’t he make more time for you? And pick up your calls? And come to visit you? Y/n… be honest with yourself, you aren’t made for a long distance relationship. You need physical contact, you need someone to hold you, to make you feel save, to make you feel wanted.“ He says and looks directly into your eyes.

You being to shiver under is gaze and feel tears well up.

Was it because what he said directly hit that weal point of yours? Triggering all the emotions you tried to ignore? Or was it the stress from the past weeks? It doesn’t matter now, you have to admit that he was right. The past months you always put on a mask. A mask to cover up the sadness that started spreading in your soul.

You loved Oikawa to death, yet there was this small dark part inside of your head asking if all of this was worth it. Was it worth staying up all those nights, just to talk to him and then fall asleep in class during the day? Sure he always said that you shouldn’t neglect your education for him, but you had to. You had to hear his voice, to see his face, to hear him say that he loves you. Especially when all you see over social media, was girls, even models, hitting on him, telling he’s their crush in interviews, seeing all those ships with him and certain models. Well especially one certain model. She was on the cover of the magazine of some famous brand and yes you stopped shopping there because you couldn’t see her face anymore. You knew you can trust him. It was him, bringing up this topic, telling you about his fears that at one point all those lies on the internet would get into your head. You promised it wouldn’t, yet here you are. In all honesty, you just needed to feel his touch again. It was easier to shut off those thoughts when they were occupied by his soft fingers caressing you. Deep down you knew Luca was right, you knew that this long distance relationship was fucking up your metal state, but it’s only until you finished University, you planned to move to Argentina so you’d be together again, or well he comes back to Japan.

Even from across the world, he was so loving and sweet. Waking up to a good morning text or his video call was a given at this point. Receiving random presents from him that suddenly appeared in your mail, receiving a bouquet of flowers, whenever he felt that you needed something to cheer you up. Sending you hand written love letters, that always made you tear up and which you kept in a box under your bed. He really did everything he could, being a perfect boyfriend. Your perfect boyfriend.

“Y/n… you can’t lie to me, I saw how you craved my touch.“ He underlines his words by softly running his fingers over your cheek, cupping your face, moving his tumb up and down, wiping away the small tears running down your face.

You feel exposed. You did enjoy the physical affection he gave you. His arm around you, leaning into his strong broad chest, having his fingers comb through your hair, his hugs, falling asleep and waking up in his arms… you really craved that. But you never craved that from him, you always wished it was Tooru, or did you?

You aren’t sure anymore. A few days ago, you had a dream, you were on a date with your boyfriend, Oikawa, but then he shifted into Luca and you can still feel your heart getting warmer when it shifted to him.

“Y/n… let me hep you erase the pain…“ he whispers and moves closer and closer to you until his lips touch yours.

It was a strange feeling.

His lips are smooth and soft, moving perfectly against yours.

He is gentle and careful, yet you can feel all the passion, he’s holding back at the moment, just waiting for you to fully accept the kiss.

The dark sadness inside of you begs to kiss back, to feel loved again, to feel wanted and desired.

But then there’s this sting inside your hear.

And the more seconds pass, the worse it gets.

This is wrong, you don’t want this.

You don’t want him.

You push Luca way and open your eyes.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see a male with soft brown hair, walking away from the University.  

“Luca stop! You know that I love Oikawa! Stop taking advantage of me being vulnerable, I thought we’re friends…“ you scream whisper, tears full of ager and regret run down your cheeks now.

“But does he still love you?“ He asks smugly.

Looking at him, you you shake your head, why should he say that, there is no way Tooru would not love you anymore.

Puffing up your chest, you push him away again and start walking back home.

That night you tried calling Oikawa again, but he didn’t pick up.

Neither did he answer to any of your messages.

He still loves you.

He does.

Right?

tags: @writingfreakk​​ @volley-simp​​ ( I know you like him too soooo enjoy the tag lol) @saucysamu​​  @shoyosun​​ ( just because you knew of me writing this lol) @kenmasgameboy​​ ( so you can read some soft angst while being sober lol)

[imagination-is-key-in-my-world]

Chime

Authors Note: I am 100% a big fan of A Cinderella Story which is what had inspired me to write this piece. I know it has been a long time since I had written anything but a lot has been going on in my life. This story is inspired by my own mental health issues as well as my ultimate dream that Tom Holland would sweep me off my feet. [Do not tell my Fiancé that I told you guys that!] Also, I got a brand-new laptop that has made writing so much more efficient than my iPad. Hopefully, I will be more active on my page. Please feel free to contact me to share your thoughts.

Summary: So, you are currently struggling with anxiety which is not easy as a high school student. Things are not getting easier now that your best friend is leaving to go to another school, leaving you behind to deal with your senior year alone. That is how you feel every day – alone. But your life suddenly changes when you stumble across an app that allows people to chat anonymously with people who share similar interests without sharing too much. Only you did not expect that this new app would take over your life and provide you with someone who you no longer think you could cope without. But who is on the other end of the phone?

Warning: Possible swearing and mental health triggers.

Pairing: Reader x Tom Holland 

Word Count: 6,758

Counting the dew drops on the window was getting completely tedious at this point. There you sat in complete silence for what must have been a couple of minutes. But to you, it had felt like hours, if not days. Not that you were being dramatic at all.

You are not exactly the type of person who many people would typically associate with the nature of popularity. You did not have that many followers on your social media accounts. Therefore, it should not have been that surprising that your phone was not “blowing” up with notifications at this time of day.

Your best friend Cleo always told you that if you wanted to make something of your life, you needed to leave the house for more than just school.

“But!” You would always protest, “everything I need is right here.” Cleo was one member of a small social group that you bothered with both in and outside of school. When it came to forming groups in class, all your teachers knew that you needed to be put with a friend or you would be catastrophically unresponsive with a slight hint of a mini meltdown beginning to form.

The thing is you suffer with a high level of anxiety when it comes to meeting and conversing with people outside of your friendship circle. To make matters worse, the whole school was aware of this problem and would constantly tease and mimic the blubbering mess you turned into when you had to answer a question in the middle of class. There would be pointing as well as laughing as you would literally shake and break a sweat in front of everyone. Let us just say, this may have been one of the many reasons that your group only had 5 members and that includes you and queen Cleo.

The phone chimed and it shook you from your thoughts. When you finally unlocked it, you noticed that it was only Cleo cancelling on you yet again. Earlier that evening you had asked Cleo to come over and discuss the nature of Cleo moving schools in the fall. Both of you were meant to discuss how you personally were going to cope with the everyday torment and painful endeavours that was a big part of school life. But from that disappointed look on your face, it was obvious that Cleo was only blowing you off to spend more time with her new boyfriend.

“Knock knock” Your mother stated as she blatantly barged into your room. “Hey baby, I’m going to the store do you need anything at all?” As per usual you would shake your head and try not to make any eye contact with your mother at all. “Okay, well make sure that you feed the dog for me while I am gone and try and get some sun, you’re looking a little pale, baby.”

It was typical of your mother to attempt to force you out of your comfort zone. It was getting quite embarrassing for her at the teacher/parent evenings when she was called in to discuss another “issue.” It is not like you do not want to make more of an effort in class and with people, it just does not come as easy to you as it may for everyone else. The idea of people hearing you call out an answer in class and have it been wrong is absolutely devastating and crucifying for you.

You picked up your phone and decided that Facebook was worth one last scroll through before you decide that it was worthless and throw your phone back onto the bed for the 14th time that day. You were scrolling away half-heartedly, not really reading through the posts that people had shared as it was probably the same drama that it always was. It was as you thought, but suddenly your mind decided to switch back on when it reached a pop up that you would typically ignore. “Attention all Introverts.” Obviously, this caught your attention, it was in freaking bold print. You cannot ignore anything when it is in bold print! Clicking on the link, you decided to curiously read on.

“Attention all Introverts,

Have you ever felt lonely and isolated? Well this is the app for you. Become anyone you want to be, talk to anyone you would like – with total anonymity.

[This app gives you the confidence to express yourself to total strangers without the fear of judgements. If you are terrified of being vulnerable around other people while being your true self, then this is the app for you]”

Of course, you were sceptical at first but that was when you remembered how difficult it was to be your friend, relative and even teacher. Then before you could even stop yourself, you clicked onto the app and the download began. Nothing happened at all, other than the app appearing onto your phone’s home screen amongst other apps like Tumblr and Facebook. But you just thought there was going to be a sudden flash of lightning and you would be overwhelmed with confidence like you see in the movies. However, this was not the movies, this was your life and there you sat on the edge of your bed still shaking like a leaf.

It took you about half an hour to install all of your relevant information into the app. Mostly because you were trying to convince yourself that it was a stupid idea and that you should just delete it straight away. Although there was a faint voice in the back of your head telling you to do it. Part of it sounded like Cleo, while another part of the voice sounded like a stranger to you.

Once you had finished setting up the app, you left your phone on your dresser and walked into the lounge to watch that new episode of Ru Paul’s drag race that you had missed on Netflix. You managed to get through two episodes, a giant bag of Cheetos and a litre of Dr Pepper before crashing out on the sofa.

A loud chime from the bedroom woke you from your slumber. Your mother was sat on the edge of the sofa watching one of her true crime documentaries when she noticed you becoming startled.

“You okay honey?” You wipe your eyes and nod. “Do you want anything to eat or are you all set for bed?”

“Bed.” You mumble as you pick up the rubbish that had surrounded you on your makeshift bed for the afternoon.

“Okay, love you honey.” She called back as you threw away the rubbish into the trash and made your way into your bedroom. You practically fell onto your bed before you remembered the chime that had woken you in the first place. Grasping your phone, you unlocked it hesitantly, shielding your eyes from the brightness behind it to reveal a message from an unknown number. One word, one syllable and one emotion, fear.

‘Hey’

In your head these words kept rolling through your mind. What do I do now? Do I message back or do I leave it alone? Will they think I am ignoring them if I do not reply? Well of course they would, the app has probably notified them that it has been read. You started pacing in your bedroom chanting the words over and over in your head ‘What do I do? What do I do?’

It was almost like a reflex after a while as your fingers typed away.

‘HEY’ Too eager

‘Hiya’ Too girly

‘Hi’ Too blunt

Sup’ Too weird

Each message you typed your anxiety took over and criticised it, controlling your fingers to delete and retype.

‘Hey’ Was the message that you had settled for. It had been almost an hour and a half since you had received the message from Lonerboy101 and you had not even pressed send yet. The message was still sitting in your text box with the curser bouncing away at the end of the sentence.

There was a knock at your door which startled you, causing your fingers to slide across the phone’s screen. “I’m going to bed now Hun, goodnight.”

“Night.” You tried hard to sound cheery but as per usual failed to do so as your mother closed your bedroom door. ‘No, no, no’ you repeated in a small murmur. Fear washed over you as you regretted every minute that it took to write that message and the one milli second that it took to get sent out through the universe to reach this Lonerboy101.

You dropped the phone into your duvet and grabbed the pillow next to you. Bringing the plush cushion up to your face, burying it to let out a light scream.

*Chime*

Lonerboy101 - ‘How long did it take you to write that message. Mine took about 2 hours.’

You reread the message a couple of times because you couldn’t believe that although this person knew you were somewhat ignoring him off when you had initially received his message, he still replied to yours. Not only that but he had made a joke about how long it had taken to send a reply.

It took you a couple of minutes to decide whether you were going to go through with it and message this person back. Or whether you should just back out now and forget that this ever happened.

But that was your phone in your hand and those were your fingers typing a reply.

Hidingintheshadows - ‘About an hour and a half.’

You sent the reply off and almost felt a sudden pang of relief. That this was not as bad as you had originally perceived it to be. That it was almost the same as talking to Cleo or any of the other girls.

*Chime*

Lonerboy101 - ‘So, this is weird right?’

Before you knew it, the delays between the messages decreased quite significantly. There was the standard 3 minutes to think of a response and then another 5 to send the message but the conversation had felt a little less risky compared to how it did at the very start.

Hidingintheshadows - ‘It is a bit weird, I guess.’

Lonerboy101 - ‘So, are you an old creepy guy like me?

Hidingintheshadows - ‘That is a joke, right?’

Lonerboy101 - ‘Yeah it is a joke, sorry very dry sense of humour. Don’t have that many people to try my jokes out on.’

Hidingintheshadows - ‘That’s a relief.’

Lonerboy101 - ‘It’s a relief that I do not have many friends?’

Hidingintheshadows - ‘No! I did not mean that! I am so sorry.’

Lonerboy101 - ‘Another joke. Sorry when I am nervous, I tell bad jokes. I forget that I am not really good at them and text form is really hard to tell tone.’

Hidingintheshadows - ‘Sorry for not being able to tell when you’re joking.’

Lonerboy101 - ‘Don’t worry, you wouldn’t be the first. Although you probably are, I only just downloaded this app today.’

Hidingintheshadows - ‘Same.’

Lonerboy101 - ‘You don’t say [type] much do you?’

Hidingintheshadows - ‘Not really, sorry.’

Lonerboy101 - ‘You know you don’t have to keep apologising to me all the time, right?’

Hidingintheshadows - ‘Oh sorry.’

Lonerboy101 - ‘[insert face palm emoji]’

The last message made you smile. Cleo had always been telling you that you apologise way too much and that it can get annoying. It would get to the point where you would apologise for things you did not do just because it sounded like the right thing to say.

Hidingintheshadows - ‘I will work on it.’

Lonerboy101 - ‘So what brings you to Introverted Conversions?’

Hidingintheshadows - ‘Fear of the world and everyone in it, basically.’

Lonerboy101 - ‘Oh my gosh same!’

Hidingintheshadows - ‘Really?’

Lonerboy101 - ‘No, but I am touched that you still cannot sense my sarcasm.’

Hidingintheshadows - ‘I’ll work on that too.’

Lonerboy101 - ‘Promise?’

Hidingintheshadows - ‘Promise!’

It had almost become a routine for you and Lonerboy101 to talk during the late afternoon and evening. Occasionally, you would get notified in the middle of the day, but he knew that you were not ignoring him and that you had school obligations. No one really knows about him at all, you have done well at keeping this away from Cleo as you knew she would only judge you for it.

‘You’re talking to a stranger online who had admitted he was an old creepy man.’ Even the thought made you laugh. Since the first night, you had discovered a lot about Lonerboy101. Nothing like names and addresses. But more personal stuff like how it feels having crippling anxiety and not having someone who really understands.

***

It was the last day before Cleo left for her new school and you woke up feeling quite comfortable for the first time in a long time. It was almost as if your body has finally gotten used to the idea that the day was going to come that you would need to stand up on your own. It was not a good feeling per say, but it was slightly empowering to know that you could become your own person, instead of being Cleo’s weird friend.

*Chime*

Your heart began to beat rapidly in your chest as you practically dove for the phone on your bed. Only to have it violently shoot back down when the name on your lock screen did not read Lonerboy101.

Cleo – ‘Hey, I am downstairs! Snag me a piece of toast considering you are not exactly going to eat it!’

Every morning your mum would make pancakes, French toast, and scrambled eggs that you could choose from to snack on during your walk to school. Only you are not exactly a French toast and scrambled eggs kind of person and she knows that. It is just her way of trying to make a connection with you early in the day.

You – ‘Be right down, pancakes or French toast?’

You replied as you waved to your mum who was sliding through her emails while nursing a hot mug of coffee. “Hey, Baby! Have a great day at school, okay?” The last part of this routine she does every morning always feels like she is questioning you, making sure that you are aware that a ‘great day at school’ depends 100% on you alone.

*Chime*

Lonerboy101 – ‘Pancakes please. Although, I don’t think they will be any good by the time I receive them!’

‘Oh no!’ You thought. You did not think really think to check the contact that you were on when you sent the message out. You had simply read the lock screen and the most recent person you were chatting to was the person that appeared on the screen.

Quickly you grabbed a pancake and your bags and sulked out the door.

Hidingintheshadows – ‘I am so sorry, that was meant for my friend.’

Lonerboy101 – ‘Are we not friends? I am offended’

Hidingintheshadows – ‘Wait no I mean yes you are, but I do not really know you. God I am sorry…’

Lonerboy101 – ‘Wow! What did I say about the apologising? And what about the whole sarcasm thing? You should now know when I am pulling your chain.’

Hidingintheshadows – ‘Sorry’

Lonerboy101 – ‘No. More. Sorry.’

Hidingintheshadows – ‘Damn, I didn’t mean to I swear.’

Lonerboy101 – ‘Calm, it is okay. Chain. Pulling. But going back to this pancake…’

Hidingintheshadows – ‘What about it?’

Lonerboy101 – ‘You have made me hungry. And now I need to go out and find me a pancake to soothe this carb craving I have going on.’

Hidingintheshadows – ‘Good luck with that.’

Lonerboy101 – ‘Good Luck with school today! Speak to you later! X’

What the heck is that? Fear washed over your face as you met Cleo at the bottom of the stairs to your apartment building.

“Y/N? Are you okay? You look a little pale?” It took everything you had to not blurt out every little secret that you had been keeping about Lonerboy101 to Cleo. To almost get some advice on how to handle this newfound “boy drama” in your life. You open your mouth to begin to spill the beans. “Oh, I know!” Cleo interrupted, “it is because today is my last day and you have no idea how you will survive without me!”

Not quite on the nose but nice to see that your friend really does care about you, while she makes every drama about herself. This was just another typical response from Cleo. One you have put up with for an exceptionally long time. Instead of arguing with your best friend on the beginning of her last day, you decide to just bite your lip and nod.

“It will be okay, sunshine!” A little nickname she gave you when you were both little and in Kindergarten. “We will still have Facetime and we can still meet up during the holidays.” Suddenly you were pulled into a tight embrace as an overexaggerated sigh left her lips. “Now come on mopey.” Yet another nickname that you were given because of your constant state of enthusiasm caused by your mental condition. “Let’s get to school before people forget that they will never see this face walk those halls again.”

Meanwhile in your head the little “X” at the end of Lonerboy101’s latest reply repeatedly flashed across your mind as Cleo droned on about how annoying packing up her extensive collection of shoes and makeup has been for her.

***

It did not matter what lesson you were in, if you were having “a moment” as your mother likes to call it, everything just seems to become pointless. Science was one of your favourite subjects mainly because of the unpredictable experiments that you can perform. But today it just seemed as though someone had placed a weighted scarf on top of your shoulders and told you to “deal with it.”

“Can anyone tell me their findings from their group’s chemical reaction?” All eyes went to you as everyone in the class knew that you were Mr King’s favourite pupil. Mr King was the only teacher that managed to get a response out of you in class. But today, he might as well have been talking to a brick wall.

“Y/N?” This would later be explained to you after class that it was the fifth attempt Mr King had made to pry your attention away from your notebook where you had been filling in the margins with your pen.

When you looked up, there were people gossiping and snickering about what they had just witnessed. “Can I see you after class?” Mr King had asked once he regained the focus of the class.

This was not the first time that a teacher had asked to speak with you after class. Especially Mr King. Not that he made a habit to discipline you outside of lesson, but because he was always concerned about how you were feeling after you had one of you “moments.”

“What is going on, Y/N? Do I need to call your mother?” He did not say it in a stern way that other teachers would have. But for him, it was more of a genuine question for your own personal well-being. “Some of the other teacher’s approached me today in the teacher’s lounge to discuss you. They said that you have been unresponsive all day. I heard that Cleo is leaving today, does that have anything to do with how you’re coping with today?”

You shook your head. “Cleo has nothing to do with it!” You snapped, and you never snap which startled Mr King. “I’m sorry.” You whispered when you saw how set back, he was from your reply. “I just do not know what to do anymore.”

“With what?” He perched on the edge of his desk. Holding his hand up to stop the next class from entering the classroom. “What is getting to you? I can see if I can help?” While most teachers would just shrug you off, Mr King tried to get down to the root problem to help you resolve any issue that you may be having during the day. This was because Mr King had made you aware that his daughter too suffers from major anxiety issues as well.

“It’s stupid, I should not have said anything. I will be okay, Mr King.” You gathered your books from the table and stuffed them into the oversized backpack that was now slung over your shoulder. “Can you quickly write me a note for Mrs Bateman? I do not want the teachers to have more of a reason to talk about me.”

Mr King picked up a pad and pen and began to write a note excusing you for your lateness. “It will get better, Y/N. I am here whenever you need a chat, okay?” He handed you the note and you basically bolted out of the room.

Although you felt bad for being short with Mr King, you could not quite help it. It was not as if you could simply come out and tell him that you were not upset because your best friend for 16 years was now leaving you behind. But it was all down to an “X” placed on the end of a text message from a boy you have not met but have been talking to for 3 weeks non-stop!

***

You slowly approached the lunch table that you and your friends sat at during every lunch since you had started at the school. They were all laughing and joking which did slightly lift your spirits. Cleo had turned to look over her shoulder and noticed your arrival. The smile on her face had sank and the laughing at the table had died along with it.

“Hey Y/N!” Cleo tried to sound pleased to see you but you knew something was up. Since when was Cleo being false with you? She normally reserved that type of “hey” for the girls that talk about how amazing they are.

Sinking down into the spare chair that has been yours for years at the table you tried to force a smile. “So, we were all thinking…” Instantly you hated where this was going. “That it would be really fun to all go to the dance tonight as a final farewell to Cleo!” The girls shrieked as Hannah finished her sentence. A dance was the last place you wanted to be. Today of all days.

The girls all looked at you for your response. “A dance?” The girls all squealed again in unison, practically bouncing in their seats.

“Don’t you think it would be fun.” Hannah stated rather than asked.

“Dances aren’t really my thing.” You said hesitantly. The last thing you wanted to do was to annoy any of the friends that you had left. Especially considering how they were going to be the ones you would now have to rely on once Cleo had left.

“Nothing is really your thing!” Elizabeth snickered. Cleo’s death stare shot over to Liz and her head instantly fell. So that’s why Cleo was so weird when you came over. It was because she knew that you were not exactly going to be over the moon with the new plan for Cleo’s last day celebration. Before lunch, the plan was to go bowling and then get pizza. A less daunting but still hard to stomach plan. This new plan involved dressing up and trying to socialise with people who were not exactly the nicest to you.

“Y/N, it is completely up to you. We can go to the dance and party it up like it is the last day we are going to be alive. Or we can just go and get pizza and knock over a couple of pins with an over weighted bowling ball.” When Cleo said it like that, neither sounded appealing. But it was obvious the way that she laid it out that the dance was the one event she was going to be happy attending tonight.

“Can I think about it?” The girls all sighed and Callum shook you by the shoulders. Literally shook you as if physically moving your body was somehow going to make you change your mind. “Ow!”

“Callum! Do not do that!” Cleo yelled at her boyfriend. At least she was still defending you even if she was trying to push you to do something that made you uncomfortable. It was almost as if she defended you to make you reconsider. “Just one little dance? We can go whenever you want and stay however long you want.” Her puppy dog eyes were out and her hands were clasped in front of her.

Along with your crippling fear of being around other people, your anxiety also made you hate disappointing those that you care about. “Fine.” Was all you managed to say before all the girls and Callum began to cheer. At least he did not try to shake you again otherwise you thought you may physically puke from excessive unwanted physical contact.  

While all the others were discussing what they were going to wear, you reached for your phone and began to contact the only person on the planet who didn’t make you feel like you were wrong for feeling this type of way.

Hidingintheshadows – ‘Have you ever been forced to do something you don’t really want do because your friends want you to?’

You debated for a couple of seconds before adding your own “X” onto the end of your text.

Your phone vibrated in your hand. Thank God you had turned the volume off when you got to school. Cleo would not have left you alone for one second if she knew you were texting a guy.

Lonerboy101 – ‘Who is making you do something? What something? Is it illegal? X’

Hidingintheshadows – ‘1. Nothing illegal. 2. Friends and 3. Go to a stupid high school dance where I will be uncomfortable for the entire evening. X’

Lonerboy101 – ‘That wasn’t the order that I put my questions in. X’

Hidingintheshadows – ‘I thought I would start with the one that could get me in a jail cell! X’

Lonerboy101 – ‘I’ve got this feeling that you’d rock an orange jumpsuit so you would be fine. Although the lack of our communication would be quite unsettling. X’

Hidingintheshadows – ‘I think I will cope. X’

Lonerboy101 – ‘I was talking about me! I look forward to my Chime every day. X’

You could not help but blush when you read that last part of his message. You could not bring yourself to message him back stating that it was also your highlight of the day too. Lonerboy101 has become a big part of your life and that was quite hard to admit considering you did not know his name or what he even looked like. You barely even knew the boy and yet it felt as though you knew everything there was to know about him.

Lonerboy101 – ‘Sorry was that weird? Let us get back to the problem at hand… A party was not it? X’

Hidingintheshadows – ‘No and my friend is leaving and I do not want to be mean and not turn up to her “leaving do” but I do not think I will be able to cope with that many people. Especially because they all think that I am a freak. X’

Lonerboy101 – ‘When is the party? You are not a freak by the way. Might I just add that is the longest text you have ever sent. X’

Hidingintheshadows – ‘Tonight, at school. I do not want to go and be the joke of the party. X’

Lonerboy101 – ‘This is a tough one. I can be there if you want. For moral support. X’

Hidingintheshadows – ‘You can’t obviously turn up to a school that you don’t go to just to attend a stupid dance. X’

Lonerboy101 – ‘I’ll be a virtual guest. You can text me whenever you think that it is getting too much and I will use my powers of persuasion to lift those spirits and put a smile on your beautiful face. X’

Hidingintheshadows – ‘How can you say I am beautiful. You have never even seen me? X’

Lonerboy101 – ‘I see the beauty in everything. But you, you are something much more. X’

***

“You cannot wear that!” Cleo snapped when she saw the outdated and over worn outfit that you were wearing on your body. “No this will not do.” Lucky enough for her, your mother and Cleo are quite close. Closer than you are to your own mother. “Leanne! Come and tell your daughter that this is terrible and that she cannot wear this to a school dance.”

Within seconds your mother was in your room judging the clothes that she paid for that you were wearing. “No baby girl, this is your first dance. There is no way in hell I am going to let you leave this apartment building wearing that.”

Your mother’s hand was now grasped around your wrist and you were being dragged into your mother’s bedroom. “Now try this on.” In her hand she was holding a long black dress with a sequin detail at the top of the bust. She could tell that you were resistant so she pulled you in front of the wall length mirror and placed the garment up to your neck.

You could not deny that it was a very pretty dress. One that you would love to wear in a different circumstance. The whole idea of you attending a dance had still not sunk in yet. “Mum I couldn’t pull this off!” You exclaimed. Jeans and a tea shirt were more your speed.

“No Sunshine, you are most definitely wearing this now that I have seen it.” Cleo was practically foaming at the mouth the minute she saw this dress. You were sure that if your mother had not offered it to you first that she would have snagged the dress up for herself. “Right now, hair and makeup.” She slapped her hands together and both your mother and best friend stared at you with excitement in their eyes. Which only put the fear of God into yours.

***

The dance was as horrible as you thought it was going to be. There was loads of people staring at you. One of the girls from your English class even asked a friend of hers if you were a new student at the school. Shows how invisible you were before your boobs were pushed up to your neck and eyeliner was thickly applied to your eyes.

Although this was a new experience for you, to have all eyes on you for a different reason that being the weird girl from school. It was not an experience that you enjoyed at all. High school was nothing but a gossip forum where girls pick on other girls for being themselves or for being slightly different than them. For caring less about how much their bag cost and caring more about why their grade in English was lower than French.

Your friends were all on the dance floor which sadly left you on your lonesome at the back of the decked-out gym.

*Chime*

Lonerboy101 – ‘Please tell me you are having fun now? X’

You smiled. Seeing his name pop up on your screen was possibly the only thing that made you smile tonight.

Hidingintheshadows – ‘Nope. Everyone is staring at me. X’

Lonerboy101 – ‘They are only staring because they are jealous. X’

Hidingintheshadows – ‘What could they possibly be jealous of? X’

Lonerboy101 – ‘Well I bet you look absolutely beautiful tonight. X’

Hidingintheshadows – ‘You couldn’t possibly know that? X’

There had been a couple of minutes since Lonerboy101 had messaged back and that smile you had previously been wearing was starting to fade. You glanced down to look at the time on your phone, 22:14. You let out a relieved sigh, at least you stuck around for over 2 hours.

Grabbing your bag, you began to sculk about the dance floor to try and find Cleo and the other girls to deliver the “bad news.” Cleo was locked onto Callum as they shared a slow dance to one of the most upbeat songs you have ever heard. This immediately made finding Cleo a hell of a lot easier.

“I am going to head off now.” You detached Cleo from her boyfriend which left him both grumpy and a little annoyed at you. Cleo gave you a less than enthusiastic hug before quickly turning back to Callum. “Bye then.” You said when she did not say anything back to you.

It was cold outside which instantly made you regret the dress and the heels made the idea of walking all the way home even more thrilling than you could imagine. Glancing down to check the time once again, you noticed a message featuring on your lock screen. You must have not heard it with all the music when you were saying goodbye to Cleo and the girls.

Lonerboy101 – ‘Wanna bet? X’

Everyone outside the gym began to suddenly gasp. All of them were looking in a similar direction. For once all the eyes were off you and that made you feel a hell of a lot better than you had all night.

Hidingintheshadows – ‘I will take that bet. You cannot comment on something you cannot see. X’

“Then maybe you should step out of the shadows and see what I can see right now.” This voice was strangely familiar but not familiar in a way that you had heard Mr King’s voice almost every day. It was familiar because you had heard it from somewhere, but you were unsure of where. “Because what I see is 100% beautiful just like I had predicted.”

The crowd of people started to open as the voice got nearer and nearer. There were girls practically peeing their pants with excitement. Cleo had appeared with the girls and practically everyone from whom were inside the gym. Suddenly, this voice had become the talk of the whole dance and now all the attention was right back on you again.

There was now a stunning familiar face to match the familiar voice standing right in front of you. One that you would never have believed to have been stood there. It was his smile that you caught first when he looked at you in that long black dress. His eyes lingered on you for a while before you both realised that it had been quite some time that slipped away since either one of you had spoken. 

“Lonerboy101?” You asked quietly. Not really wanting anyone to hear how speechless you really were.

“Guilty.” There in front of you stood the one and only Tom Holland. The freaking man who brought you Spiderman, Ian Lightfoot, and Lucas in the movie The Impossible. He was Lonerboy101, how was that even possible?

It suddenly dawned on you that everyone and that honestly was everyone was now staring at the pair of you who were staring at one another. “Maybe we should go over there?” Tom had suggested to get away from prying eyes.

Once you were both certain that there were not any lingering eyes, your protection walls started to drop ever so slightly. “You’re the person I have been talking to for 3 weeks? You’re Lonerboy101?”

“Yes. I am Lonerboy101, but if I am being quite honest, Tom will do fine.” He joked which did make you feel only a small degree better. For all this time you had been talking to Tom Holland and you had no inclination that it was happening. “I wanted to tell you who I was, but it was so amazing to have someone to talk to who didn’t see me as this guy who acts for a living and attends red carpet events, you know?”

You did not know of course. “I am not mad. But why would you tell me you have anxiety issues when you do not?” You sighed and started to look at the shine from the diamonds reflecting from your heels. “Was it a way to make fun of me?”

Quickly Tom grasped your hands without thinking. “No!” He spoke urgently but delicately as if he did not want to put his foot in his mouth and make the situation worse. Truth be told Tom was expecting this whole revelation to go a little differently. The sombre look on your face was not the result that he had wanted from showing up at your school. “I never did it to make fun of you or anyone who suffers with anxiety. Truth be told I do suffer with it. Not as bad as most people, but I have days where I wonder if my friends are my true friends because they like me or because they like what I can give them.”

“I want you to know that every message that I ever sent you, I was being the real me. None of it was an act or fake for me.” Tom’s head was not facing down, almost defeated. “From talking to you I knew that you were the most honest and kindest person that I could possibly ever get to know.”

“Can I ask you something?” Your voice was soft and shaky as if you were afraid of the response that you were going to receive.

“Anything.” He was almost pleading. His voice as shaky as your own.

“How did you know who I was and what I looked like?” Tom looked you dead in the eyes. You could see the sincerity in his eyes and how much he wanted this to go right. “You knew to come right up to me, out of all the girls in the world. You knew to come to my school and then up to me, how?”

Tom let out a little smile. “Well, you know that section on the app right at the beginning?” You nod keeping eye contact as he continued to speak. “Well when it asks you for a name, you can keep it blank and then put in a username instead. You actually put in all of your details and made them public.”

“Oh!” You stated feeling stupid for doing so. This entire time he knew exactly who you were while you had no clue that you were talking to a celebrity.

“No, it was a good thing.”

“How?” You question. Doubting that knowing who you were was ever a “good thing.”

“Because, I felt really lucky to be talking to you. I saw how beautiful you were and how smart you are as well as how kind you can be.” You were quiet. You were not used to guys calling you beautiful, and here he was saying it for what must have been the 3rd time since you met him. “If it makes you feel any better, I only looked you up yesterday. I was worried when you did not answer my message and temptation got the best of me and I peaked. Are you mad?”

“No. I am not mad.”

“Would it help if I said sorry?”

“What did you say about saying sorry?” You smiled which made the flash of panic rush from his face. The corners of his mouth started to turn up and his eyes sparkled.

“Yeah but on me it looks cute.” Both of you allow yourselves to laugh at the situation. Remembering some of your earlier messages. “Would it be too much to ask for a hug?” He looked down at your hands which were no longer scrunched into fists which proved that you were no longer as uncomfortable as you may have been from the first encounter.

You allow yourself to smile as he pulls you into his arms. “It is exactly how I imagined it.” Tom said into your hair as he held you close to him.

“What is?” You questioned

“That I would be only just taller than you when you’re wearing heels.” Both of you let out a controlled laugh at his terrible attempt at a joke. “You don’t actually want to go back in there do you?” Tom gestured towards the gym that probably did not hold any students inside due to his arrival.

“I am not going back inside there! But thanks for wearing a suit for me.” You pull away slightly to admire the suit that Tom was pulling off handsomely.

“Anything for my girl.”

[sakura-blossom28]

Modern Day Romance

Chapter 1

So I gave up on my other Gaara x Sakura fanfiction lol but it just made me sad to write.  So I’m writing this one and hopefully, it’ll be a little bit more upbeat since I myself and doing better.  I put a lot of myself into this, but I also want to make the best situations for the characters and hope I’ll be in a good relationship one day too!  Just trying to speak into the universe through writing and getting my feelings out there as well cause it has been rough the last few months.  Thought I was doing better but life always has other plans! 

Obviously, this is a modern au, but no COVID in this world cause I don’t want it! lol please let me know what you think!  Also planning on the next chapter to be Gaara’s perspective to change up my writing style!  

I do not own Naruto!  

...

No.  No.  Too short.  Too far away.  Swipe, swipe, swipe.

Sakura laid in her bed looking at the eligible bleachers that were in a 20 mile radius.  The internet had turned into her only means of dating in the last few years.  Having finished her master’s in nursing while working on top of that with her mentor, she finally was ready for a serious relationship.  It was harder than she initially thought.  

With the start of summer right around the corner, Sakura was finally ready to get back out there.  She got out of a very serious one-sided relationship back in the winter, right as she was finishing school, that left her devastated beyond repair, or so she thought, but she pushed through and devoted herself to finishing with top marks.  It took a lot of time to get over her ex, but it was worth it.  All those endless nights of crying over her textbooks allowed her to do some real digging and showed her that the person she loved with her whole heart was in fact, not good enough for her.  

It was strange getting over someone you thought you loved. For Sakura, it was easy getting over him but the hard part was that she lost her friends in the process.  They had chosen him over her, and it was finally obvious.  That’s what was killing Sakura at the moment.  

Earlier that day was Sakura’s day off in what felt like forever.  She was so excited to finally be able to spend time with her friends that she woke up early to be able to make plans with them.  Sakura text Hinata and TenTen first because she knew Naruto wouldn’t answer and she never really was that close to Neji. She had a beach day in mind, she was so pale compared to everyone else she saw because she was always at work or in trying to get some studying in.  

It didn’t take too long to get an answer from Hinata, but unfortunately, both girls were busy that day and wouldn’t be able to see her.  Bummed by the news Sakura crawled back into bed not sure what she would do now.  The beach wasn’t worth driving all the way there to pay for just herself.  She decided to lay in bed for a little while longer hoping that she could think of something fun to do by herself.

When Sakura awoke she lazily was scrolling through her social media accounts and saw something that made her heart drop into her stomach.  There on Hinata’s story was her and everyone else already at the beach.  Everyone was smiling and having a good time from what it seemed.  Sakura even noticed a new girl with red hair and glasses that she had never seen before.  Then next to the girl was him.  

Sakura made sure after the breakup that she muted everything on social media to help her heal.  She also made a strict rule to never look at any of his profiles because it would just upset her more.  Their relationship was over and there was no going back.  She was getting better.  The sight of his name liking things on Naruto’s page didn’t upset her so much anymore, which was a big sign of progress to Sakura.  In all honesty, Sakura felt okay seeing his face and seeing this new girl that he was clearly with.  She was more upset with her friends. Sure they had been there for her when they first broke up, but this wasn’t the first time that Sakura knew they were all hanging out and didn’t attempt to invite her.

They chose him.  Time to let them go, the voice in her mind said.  

This old habit had come back to her within the last year.  A sign to Sakura about how unhappy she was with Sasuke because that voice always tried to warn her about the red flags, but Sakura was too stubborn to listen.  Now it seemed that voice was the only person she talked to anymore.  

Why are they doing this?  I thought we all could have gotten along once in a while.  Didn’t he say I should still be friends with them?

Clearly, they don’t think the same way.  You knew your friendship with them had an expiration date.  They’re hurting you.  We don’t let people do that anymore remember? 

Sakura weeded through a lot of unhappy thoughts to get where she was today. She made a lot of promises to herself to be stronger than she used to be. Somehow she lost a sense of herself along the way and she would never sacrifice that again no matter who it was, friend or partner.  

She closed the app and went to text her best friend Ino.  They were so close and could tell each other everything, but Ino moved away to the city a few years ago and was living life to the fullest in Sakura’s eyes.  She had only met Sasuke once and Sakura didn’t reach out when they broke up anyway.  Ino just seemed so busy to Sakura that she didn’t want to bother her.  She could really use a friend right now.  

It seemed like every person she thought of was in a relationship besides herself. Why was dating so hard for her?  Everyone else was clearly doing something she wasn’t.  She never even had a relationship that lasted longer than 6 months.  She couldn’t even go out and meet someone at a bar because now she had no friends to go out with, not that Hinata and TenTen would have gone with her anyway.  All their comforting words came back to her when she first got dumped, was it all a lie?

Sakura was the type of person to say something and mean it.  If she said she’d help then she would even if it was months down the line, she would always keep her word.  Hinata and TenTen promised they would still be friends and hang out, but that only happened once.  A few messages now and again, but Sakura definitely felt a weird shift with Hinata one day.  It had been months after the breakup and Sakura was having a bad day and tried to talk to her about it, but at the mention of Sasuke and how upset he used to make Sakura because he ignored her all the time, Hinata clammed up and almost refused to believe Sasuke would have done something like that.  From that day on, Sakura never brought him up again.  

Jumping out of bed, Sakura was already tired of feeling bad for herself.  Anger always helped her move forward.  If they couldn’t be fair and hang out with both of them, then fine, she would find new friends!  No one was ever going to waste her time again!  She got herself ready for a day devoted to things that made her happy.

X

The men in her area left a lot to be desired.  For some reason, the only guys who seemed to like her were incredibly short.  Her not being that tall herself it shouldn’t have bugged her, but with past dates with guys that were short always turned out horrible for her, so she stayed clear.  Any decent guy that she found always seemed to be just too far away or even out of state which irritated her to no end.

The following weeks were a challenge for Sakura.  Matching with a few different guys was exciting, but none seemed too interested in her enough to ask her out and they just ended up ghosting her.  Some were a bit more forward in just coming out and saying they were looking for a casual fling.  At least these guys had the decency to be outright in what they wanted.  Sakura respectfully declined each offer.  

Finally, after talking to a nice guy named Zaku, things seemed to be looking up for Sakura.  They talked for about two weeks before he finally asked her out. The date was pleasant enough, but Sakura just didn’t feel that spark that she craved. Maybe it’ll get better, she thought, but alas Sakura had no such luck.  

A week passed after the date and Zaku made no effort in saying he wanted to see her again.  It frustrated Sakura to no end.  Here she was giving all the effort once and to have nothing reciprocated.  Sure there was no spark, but she thought it was a good change of pace after being totally obsessive over Sasuke. She thought maybe the guy would like her more, but this is exhausting.  They ended things amicably, but Sakura felt a bit hurt when he didn’t really give a reaction when she said they should see other people.  

Since then no one had really caught her attention.  Sure she was matching with guys, but once again they would stop talking to her after a few days.  Sakura was about to give up all hope and just accept that love wasn’t meant for her when a guy named Gaara popped up on her scene.  Now he typically wasn’t her type, but there was something about him that made her want to look at him more.

He was 5’10”, red hair, and had green eyes that were a very close shade to hers.  He seemed to be the polar opposite to her.  He mostly wore dark clothing but in a very tasteful way.  He definitely had his own style and fashion sense which was really refreshing.  Gaara wasn’t smiling in most of his pictures, but the last picture of his profile must have been taken by one of his friends at a party because he was laughing with a guy with big eyebrows who had a funny look on his face.  He looked so handsome and attractive to Sakura in that picture that she instantly liked it.  

She quickly realized what she had done and checked over her own profile to make sure nothing was too embarrassing on there.  She tried to think of some cute answers to put on there and some pictures of her over the years.  Nothing was that recent because all the pictures from the last year had been deleted. Looking over the pictures she seemed normal enough, but she was worried that Gaara would think she’s too preppy for him to like her.  The only thing that stood out to her was her music taste.  She did like a few rock bands, so hopefully that would intrigue him.  

Sakura hadn’t felt this much attraction for someone in a long time.  She looked over his profile and tried to memorize everything.  She didn’t even care if he was out of state.  Thankfully he was about a 20 minute drive away from where she lived.  The only issue she found with him was that he smoked, but maybe he would be considerate and not smoke around her.  One picture was him sitting by a window reading a book as he was surrounded by many potted cacti.  Sakura could just picture the rest of the room and imagine the two of them spending time together just relaxing.  

Don’t do that to yourself.  He didn’t even like you back yet, don’t go imagining things, the voice said.

Sighing, Sakura knew the voice was right.  She always got herself into a mess thinking about things before they happened.  She knew this bad habit caused a lot of problems for herself when she was in a relationship with someone.  She built up this imaginary person in her mind and got upset when they didn’t act that way in real life.  On the other hand, it did help her to see that the guys she was dating weren’t a right fit for her because she was imagining the bare minimum of a decent relationship.  

She was about to turn off her phone and do something else with her time, but she got a new notification.  Gaara has matched with you!  See what he said.

With her body moving faster than her mind, she opened the message.   

Ch 2 

[kutemouse]

Never Really Over

Disclaimers: I made and edited the above gif myself. That’s why I’ve used the tag #btsgif. Feel free to use, just please give me credit for the edit! I used some of the lines from Katy Perry’s lyrics to inspire and write this, but they belong to Katy.

So this imagine was inspired by the Katy Perry song “Never Really Over,” which, when I heard it for the first time, reminded me of the way my bias works. Yes, I am a Taehyung bias, but every two weeks or so, one of the other members of BTS wrecks me, and I mean WRECKS me to the point where I think, “This is it. This is when I change my bias.” But then Taehyung does something or posts a picture, and I instantly zip right back to him. I’ve been this way since I started stanning BTS, idk why, low-key, I think I’m secretly an OT7 fan.

Age Recommendation: 16+

Warnings: Sweeeeaaaaars (like always), ANGST with a happy ending, Taehyung being a sweetie-pie, no smut, might make a part two with smut idk, honestly, I hope this makes you laugh more than anything.

Word Count: 2,187

Summary: It had been two years since you broke up with Taehyung, and you were finally at the point where he stopped randomly popping into your head. But that didn’t stop him from randomly popping up on your social media, wrecking you into oblivion, and making you do stupid things.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

Oh no. Not again. I’m not falling into this rabbit hole again, not today, not ever. I promised myself I wouldn’t do this again, that I’d draw the line and never think of you again, and I did. Or so I thought.

I tentatively scrolled down my feed back to the video of you singing your heart out to a sea of adoring fans, feeling a twinge in my chest as your voice reverberated throughout the stadium. How I missed that deep rumble, the one that drew me out of sleep each morning with a chuckle and a kiss.

Shaking my head, I attempted to push all thoughts of you out of my head. I didn’t miss you. I didn’t miss anything about you, no-siree, I was over you. Ugh, who was I kidding? I couldn’t even go on the internet without seeing you. I was losing it.

“Fuck this,” I thought, standing up from the bench and heading towards my favorite cafe. The bell over the door tinkled, bringing a memory to the forefront of my mind.

We sat in the booth in the far corner so we could have as much privacy as the cafe would allow. “It’s happening, jagiya,” he murmured, taking my hand. “I’m going on tour. I won’t be back for nearly a year.”

“I know,” I muttered in reply, looking down at my lap. I couldn’t be angry, hell, I couldn’t even be sad. We both knew this was coming. Ever since BTS’s popularity shot through the roof, he’s been getting more and more busy, constantly at practice, song-writing, or travelling.

“Hey, we can make this work,” he said, his voice soothing over the pain I was beginning to feel. “I’ll always come back to you, jagi.”

He reached over and grasped my cup, taking a sip from it before squinching his eyes up cutely. I laughed and playfully grabbed for it back. “Hey, that’s mine!”

“I don’t even know how you can drink this,” he said, still grimacing. “Coffee is so bitter.”

“It’s an acquired taste,” I said, giggling.

“Miss?”

A voice brought me back to reality, and I blinked a couple times before looking at the barista. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” I asked.

She gave me an amused smile. “I asked what you’d like to order.”

“Oh, uh… Hmmm, an iced Americano for today, thanks.”

“You got it. I’ll have it ready in a moment.”

“Thank you.”

I paid then sat down in a booth to wait, fiddling with my phone. My finger touched the fingerprint pad, powering on my screen to show that video once more. Cursing, I closed the app and jammed the thing back into my pocket.

“Miss? Your Americano is ready.”

I stood and took the cup from the girl, walking quickly back outside and sitting down on the bench again. I just couldn’t escape you. It’s like no matter what I did, you were there. You were always there… and not just because your face covered the internet the way clouds covered the earth. You were always in the back of my mind.

I felt my self-control slowly trickling away as I drew my phone out of my pocket, clicked it on, and opened a new message, typing in your name as the recipient. I never deleted your number, scared of breaking the last possible tie I had to you.

Ugh, no, stop. It’s done. It’s been done for two years now. I left my phone in my lap, trying and failing to concentrate on drinking my coffee instead. We parted amicably, with both of us acknowledging that our relationship was over due to you not being able to be the boyfriend I needed. Still, for weeks after we separated, I couldn’t help jumping every time someone knocked at my door, thinking it was you, or stopping guys on the street who even slightly resembled you. That had all faded away, though, so why were my nerves on fire once more?

Our relationship was terrible, or at least it was towards the end. You were constantly gone, and didn’t have time to call or video-chat me. You had to send me text messages on the down-low, scared your company would find out about us and force us apart, or that delulu fangirls would find out about me and come after me. We only spent time together twice in the last six months of our relationship, and I was beginning to get sick of explaining to my friends and interested guys why I was unavailable to date. The second time I saw you, you came over to my apartment wearing a mask, sunglasses, and a baseball cap.

“Sorry,” he said apologetically as he shed his disguise. “I had to circle the block a couple times… make sure I wasn’t followed.”

I threw my hands up. “This is insane!”

“What is?”

“This! This relationship! Taehyung, I can’t do this anymore. This isn’t normal!”

His mouth dropped open at my proclamation. “Are you serious?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more serious,” I muttered, crossing my arms over my chest and turning away.

Taehyung grasped my arms with his large, soft hands. “Please,” he said, his voice cracking. “Let’s just talk about this.”

And talk we did. For hours. And we both came to the same conclusion: That our relationship was no longer working and in order for us to both be happy, we needed to let each other go. I reached up and touched my lips, remember the way you kissed me for the last time. Hard and deep, with both large hands on either side of my face, you kissed me until my heart broke cleanly in two.

Yet, even after all the pain I went through, I was surprised to find myself missing you even weeks after our break-up. Yeah, we were a mess, but it was the best mess I’d ever been in. By the time I figured out that life with you in it, as seldom as that actually was, was still better than life without you entirely, it was too late. You had moved on, and were becoming one of the biggest names in k-pop, no, in the world, ever. I had moved on, too… or so I thought.

Sure, I dated other guys. I even had a relationship that lasted a good six months… but none of it ever felt right. I broke up with the guy after he hinted he wanted to move in together, realizing it would never feel right no matter how much I tried to force it.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and clicked it open, staring at your name at the top of the text. What would happen if I just sent a simple, “Hey?” I let myself indulge in my imagination, thinking about the way you’d ecstatically respond, instantly sparking a conversation and lighting up my deadened heart. After a few days of texting, you’d ask to video chat, and I’d see the face that cracked my heart and soul into pieces, but this time, you were intent on mending all that. You’d come over just like old times, and we’d spend night after night together, intertwined so close we practically become one… But then you’ll leave. Again. Work will call, or your manager, or one of the other members, and you’ll leave spouting useless apologies and empty promises. Then I’ll have to get over you again.

Draw the line, I told myself. Draw it. No more. Yet even as I was thinking it, the side of me that missed you put a toe over that line, inching towards completely diving headfirst into the shit show I knew we’d forever be.

I opened the social media app again and watched that video of you singing for the third time. “Fuck it,” I thought, switching back to my messaging app and typing out a message.

Me: Hey. Just caught myself thinking about you and wondered how you’ve been. I miss you.

I stared at it for a good thirty seconds, my thumb hovering over the send button the entire time. I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed down, slowly opening them to see the circle going ‘round and ‘round, trying to send.

Wait, no. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t trip up after two whole years. I frantically tapped on the message, trying to delete it, but then the dreaded check mark appeared. Sent.

“Fuck!” I cried out, startling the closest passerby.

“Sorry,” I muttered, looking down at my lap, my cheeks flooding with warmth. How the hell had you trickled back in? I drew that line, I did, I did, but now I’d tripped up. I sipped from my coffee cup, keeping my eyes on my phone screen the entire time. Nothing. You were probably busy. Hell, you’d probably changed your number for all I knew.

With that thought comforting me, I threw my cup into the nearest recycling bin and began the five-minute trek back to my apartment. I spent the rest of the day distracting myself with studying, my fingers hovering over my phone every now and then, tempted to check it. At around the same time the sun was going down, my phone finally beeped and I snatched it up.

Damn. It was just my classmate asking a question about the essay we were assigned. I rolled my eyes and chucked my phone somewhere on the floor before flopping backwards on my bed. It was over. Has been for quite some time. I didn’t know why I expected anything more.

My phone beeped again, and I sat up so fast I made myself dizzy. It beeped again, and I yeeted myself off the bed and frantically began searching through the ocean of clothes that littered my floor. Shit, where did that damn thing go? I hadn’t chucked it that far, had I?

I dug through the random piles of my belongings, making even more of a mess as I hunted my phone down. It started ringing, and I whirled around at the sound, seeing my screen shine through a random tank top. I stumbled towards it, hands outstretched, and grabbed at it, the phone slipping through my hands like soap and falling back to the floor.

“FUCK!” I yelled out just before a knock at my door made me whip my head around.

Leaving the damn phone, I stumbled out of my bedroom and towards my front door, taking a second to run a hand through my curls in an attempt to smooth them down, before I whipped open the door.

My mouth dropped open in a gasp, eyes widening as I took you in, one hand still holding the phone to your ear, the other shoved sheepishly in your jean pocket. “Hi,” was all you said. Mouth still open like a gaping fish, I wordlessly stepped aside to let you in.

Closing the door behind you, I finally managed to get some words out. “How… Wait, why…?”

You chuckled, the buttery-smooth deep bass of your voice causing tingles to break out all over my body. “I got your text, Y/n.”

“Wait, was that… that was you calling?” I asked, my voice coming out strained. “Sorry I didn’t pick up, I was-”

“It’s fine,” you said, waving my apology off. “I know you’re probably busy… and honestly, I don’t know why I’m here other than the fact that I…”

You trailed off, and I swallowed, anticipating the dreaded words. You were here because you needed to remind me that we were done. That there was nothing between us anymore. That you had a girlfriend.

“That I… Well, that I miss you too.”

For the second time that evening, my mouth dropped open. “You what?” I squeaked.

You chuckled once more, but this time, you had a trace of uneasiness in your chocolate-brown eyes. “I miss you, you dork.”

I didn’t bother trying to speak anymore, I just acted. I rushed towards you, grabbing both of your cheeks, and kissed you with everything I had. You grunted in surprise before grabbing me by the waist, steadying both of our stances, and moving your lips around mine, fully kissing me back. The second we separated, you drew me back in, even going so far as to swipe a mischievous tongue over my bottom lip, causing me to groan in pleasure.

We finally pulled apart, panting a little, your eyes bright, a wide smile on your face. “It’s been two whole years, though,” I said.

“Yeah, and the entire time, I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind,” you murmured, peppering light kisses along my cheek. “I won’t let you get away this time.”

I sighed and curled up against your chest, once again falling hard for the way my head seemed to fit perfectly in the crook of your neck, and the way your hands seemed to meld with my love handles. It was like we were made for each other.

Well then. I thought we were done, but I guess it’s never really over, is it?

[amydancepants-peralta]

(all I wanna do) is grow old with you

A probably-too-long Peraltiago soulmate AU where your body stops ageing until you’ve met the one you’re destined to spend the rest of your life with.  Inspired by this post, and encouraged by @fezzle because her mind is amazing and we both fell down the rabbit hole on this one 😅

You can find the rest on AO3, because it’s waay too long to post on Tumblr. 🍕 

(all I wanna do) is grow old with you

Amy’s breath fogs up the glass of the mirror she’s facing as she lets out a heavy sigh, eyes taking one more scrutinising look over her appearance.  Same olive coloured skin, same dark brown hair.  Same smile, same shrug of her shoulders.  Once again, nothing had changed.

She had been five years old when her mother had explained the Rule of Life as they knew it - that once you reached your 30th birthday, your body simply stopped ageing, and the only way to kick it back into gear, was to meet your soulmate.  

To a young and idealistic Amy, it had seemed like the Ultimate Romantic Notion - that you couldn’t possibly grow old until you’d found the right person to grow old with.  And in her early twenties, when appearances and vanities paid more value than they should, she had been in no hurry to find The One.  Until she’d reached her Age Limit of 30, and realised that beauty lay within those who had found their other half.  Wrinkles and streaks of grey in heads of hair were enviable, not feared.  The lucky ones would walk the streets with pride, unable to bridle their joy as they gripped their partner’s hand with their own. 

Watching her family and friends grow older while she remained stagnant never seemed to get easier for Amy.  Standing in the sidelines as the next phase of their life would begin, she couldn’t deny that it stung a little when her youngest of brothers, Luis, had salt and pepper flecks of colour in his previously jet black hair at the last Santiago family gathering.  Or that her best friend Kylie now tried her best to conceal the crows feet that had begun to appear around her eyes, sunglasses framing her face whenever she and Amy met up for lunch.  

Try as they might to hide the changes in their appearance - which she knew was out of love for her, to not rub in that they had found what she hadn’t - the only thing that the people surrounding her couldn’t conceal was the overwhelming exuberance that radiated from each and every one of them.  That sense of completion - the elation that finally, the rest of their life can begin.

 Amy turns her head in profile one last time, a discerning eye tracing her hairline before giving up with a shake of her head.  Last night she had been on a date with a man named Gabe (a match from an online dating app that she’s definitely going to delete), and at the end of the night she honestly had felt as though things could be … kind of promising.  He was handsome, with similar interests to her, and while he spoke about investment banking maybe a little more than Amy would have liked, he certainly seemed like a worthy option when it came to her soulmate.  And so, with the freshly risen daylight’s sunbeams streaking through the windows of her apartment, and her alarm buzzing incessantly beside her, Amy had jumped out of bed, making a beeline for the mirror.

However, it would appear Gabe was not a match.  Her appearance had not changed in the slightest.  And today was just going to be another day, like all the others, without Amy knowing her soulmate.  

She gets ready for work with the clocklike precision that only a life uninterrupted can bring, casting one last downcast glance at her reflection as she turns to leave.  Perhaps the universe had a point - Gabe was definitely not the one for her.  But … he had to be out there, somewhere.  

*

It’s another ten hours before Amy is shuffling into her apartment again, finally home after what can only be described as a less than mediocre day.  

As a detective for the 99th precinct, she and her partner Rosa had developed a finely tuned friendship that had resulted in an impressively high arrest rate.  And today, they had been given the case of a jewellery store robbery - a robbery that had unfortunately turned rather high profile, as one of Brooklyn’s most well known residents, a celebrity chef named Cadi Nicholls, had been robbed in broad daylight, from the inside of a jewellery store.

Ms Nicholls had, despite several requests from various officers, been overly vocal about her ‘traumatic’ experience on social media, and in an effort to have the case closed before things turned ridiculous, Captain Holt had put his best two detectives on the case.

They had been so confident they would catch the thief.  Until they watched the security footage.

The perp appeared as if from nowhere, sliding Nicholls' diamond tennis bracelet right off her wrist without her even knowing, before yanking the sapphire ring she had just purchased out of her hand and running like hell.

Frustratingly (or conveniently, depending on who’s perspective you looked at it from), the security cameras outside had been out of order for days leading up to the robbery, so when it came to the getaway car the two women had absolutely no clues.  

Instead, they had spent the entire day interviewing countless witnesses, knocking on apartment door after apartment door until they tracked them all down.  All of which felt like a reprieve after finally escaping their interview with the chef herself; an hour long ordeal that she had insisted on live-streaming to her ‘concerned followers’.  

By late afternoon they had returned to the precinct, feet throbbing in protest, spreading out the case file over Amy’s desk as they re-examined all of the information.  The witness statements had been vague at best, and until they found a different camera that might have caught the getaway car they were officially out of leads.  

Exhausted, she had been on her way to Rosa’s desk to see if her partner wanted to get a drink of commiseration after their shift ended, when she noticed something that stopped her in her tracks.  Rosa Diaz was not a vain woman by any means, but right at that moment she had ducked her head down on the monitor, carefully shifting the strands of her hair into a specific position.  And as she moved them into place, Amy saw what Rosa had been trying to hide.

She had greys.  Only a few, and still ashy enough that it wasn’t immediately noticeable.

But she had greys.  Which meant that she was ageing.  Which also meant that she had found her soulmate.  

Her partner had looked up, eyes turning apologetic as she noticed Amy watching her, and began to explain.  “Her name is Jocelyn.  I didn’t expect to - ”  Amy raised her hand, halting the conversation as she plastered a smile onto her face.  

“It’s fine, Rosa.  Great, actually.  I’m really happy for you.”  

And she was happy.  Honestly.  Detective Diaz was a hard nut to crack, but underneath the leather-bound exterior was a kind, caring soul who genuinely deserved the best.  And obviously, this Jocelyn was it for her.  So Amy was happy for her partner.  

And also a little bit jealous.  Kinda defeated.  And almost certain that her soulmate simply didn’t exist.    

But mainly, happy.  

Now that she is home, Amy dumps her bag onto its respective hook, kicking off her shoes near the doorway and shedding her blazer before heading towards the kitchen.  She’s desperate for a glass of wine to take the edge off her less than average day, and had a Bordeaux stashed away in her cupboard laying in wait for the night that she could finally raise a toast to the person she is meant to spend the rest of her life with.  Clearly, that was never going to happen to her (and tonight was as good a night as any to enjoy a glass of red), and once she finally yanks out the cork with her cheap corkscrew, she abandons the tool on the counter, sauntering over to her couch with the bottle in one, and a glass in the other.

*

Less than an hour later, Amy has changed into her cosiest clothes and is perched on the couch, tipping the bottle upside down and frowning as no more wine seems to come out.  

Damnit.  Somebody’s been drinking my wine.  She cranes her neck, surveying the room with narrowed eyes as she searches for suspects, only to come up dry.  

Clearly, the perp has already fled the scene.

Her stomach growls as it protests at the lack of food - and abundance of wine - it had been given.  With only a slightly steady hand, Amy pulls out her phone from it’s position amongst the couch cushions, opening up a webpage to search for delicious food near me + quick delivery.  She had only moved into this apartment three months ago, after saving her hard earned money for far too long, and was still slightly unfamiliar (and yes, perhaps a little too drunk) to know what takeout options were nearby.  

The swirling symbol of a loading webpage disappears in a blink, the flashing logo of Sal’s Pizza taking its place.  She nods enthusiastically, because pizza is great and she doesn’t eat it enough, scrolling her way through the options before settling on the perfect combination and adding to cart.  

When this story gets told in the years to come, Amy will blame the empty bottle of wine for making her do this, but in the comment section of the order, she remembers a meme that her niece had recently shown her and types: send your cutest delivery boy.  Giggling loudly, she presses send before another thought could be made, and as the digital countdown comes onto her screen she stumbles into the kitchen, in search of another bottle.  

*

Jake Peralta rolls his shoulders against the stainless steel panels attached to the kitchen wall, legs feeling heavy as they dangle off the counter he’s perched on.  

It was nearly at the end of his shift at Sal’s Pizza, and the later hours of the evening always seemed to drag, but he’s thankful for a moment of peace.  

Sharing the delivery role with two other guys that he only knew as Scully and Hitchcock, he had spent the better part of the dinner rush covering their jobs as well as his own, both men claiming that they had gotten lost in the supposedly complicated streets of Brooklyn before returning to the restaurant several hours later, the pizza sauce stains still obvious on their chins.  Jake’s responding eye roll had been poorly concealed, and he had retreated to the familiar company of his buddy Charles, the chef, in the kitchen before he ended up saying something regretful.

That in itself had turned out to be a risky move, having to instead listen to Charles talk on and on (and on) about his recently discovered soulmate, Genevieve.  

And he’s happy for his best friend - really, he is.  But every single mention of their chance encounter, sparked by mixing up their specially ordered local delicacies at their nearby deli (his octopus ring pâté, hers rare eyeball soup, both horrifying) was just another reminder that Jake himself was no step closer to finding his.  Not that he’s even sure he wants to find his, but … still.

(Also, he was one more TMI conversation about their subsequent love making from taking the handle of both spatulas in the utensil jar and jamming them into his ears.)

The computer in the corner lets out an obnoxious ding! as an online order comes through, the attached printer grunting as it spits out a faded version for the chef.  Jake shuffles along the counter, butt squeaking against the steel as he rips the paper free, sneakers hitting the tiled floor with a slap as he slides it into place.  “Chet’s up, Charles.”

“It’s a chit, Jake.”  Charles looks up from his position on the counter opposite, hands concealed as he kneads out a heavy pile of dough.  “Do me a favour, read it out for me?  I’m a little tied up here.  Not as much as Genevieve was tied up last night, but still - ”

“One large deep pan, extra cheese, extra salsa!”  Jake cries out quickly, desperate to drown out the sound of whatever Charles was about to describe.  His friend nods in response, dusting off the extra flour from his hands as he heads over to another bench, the process of putting together a Sals Pizza so familiar it has become second nature.  

He glances back up at Jake, right hand mixing in the hot sauce.  “Any special requests on it?”

Right.  The special requests option, a relatively new addition, had been the catalyst for some truly strange demands.  After the horrifying command last week for the delivery boy to sing out the ingredients like a show tune upon arrival, Jake had been doing his best to avoid ‘special requests’ altogether.  With a hesitant glance, he narrows his eyes at the bottom of the receipt before letting out a laugh.  “Charles my good man, I believe I have been summoned.”

“Huh?”

Jake pulls the receipt off it’s holder with a flick of his wrist, brandishing it high in the air as he turns towards his friend with a smile.  “Says so right here.  Send your cutest delivery boy.  Clearly, that’s me.  I’m adorable.”

His friend gasps, spinning around to read the chit himself before turning to Jake in glee.  “Jakey!  This isn’t just any order.  This is fate!”

Tipping his head to the side, Jake scratches the side of his cheek as he studies Charles’ reaction.  “Fate has come in the form of a deep pan pizza?  Honestly, I’m not surprised … but I think I always imagined it would be meat supreme?”

Charles’ hands freeze on top of the pie, a few shards of grated cheese slipping from his fingers as he shakes his head at Jake.  “No, silly.  The person who’s ordered the pizza is your fate.  Not the pizza itself.  Your soulmate is on the other end of this delivery.  I’m sure of it.”

“Oh come on.  That’s ridiculous.  You don’t even know if this is for a person, or a company, or even some kind of robot that’s managed to gain sentience ..”

The chef’s head appears suddenly over Jake’s shoulder, peering at the details printed along the bottom of the receipt before giving him a solid side-eye.  “Says right here, Amy Santiago.  Sounds like a pretty great name for a soulmate, if you ask me.”

Rolling his eyes, Jake walks towards the oven, picking up the pizza peel from it’s holding place and lifting the next order into the grill.  “I keep telling you, Charles.  Not everybody is going to end up with their soulmate.  The whole thing is flawed.  It didn’t exactly work out for my parents, did it?”

“You’ve just gotta have faith, Jake!  The universe has greater plans than you or I could ever imagine, and sometimes you just have to let the signs guide the way.”  Charles countered, ripping the receipt from the order holder and shoving it into Jake’s shirt pocket, pointing towards the oven once his hand is free.  “Order will be up in eight minutes, Mr. Cutest Delivery Boy.  Don’t be late, destiny is waiting.”

It’s close to twenty minutes later before Jake is standing in the hallway of an unfamiliar apartment building, double checking the address on the receipt before raising his hand to knock (people are very willing to accept pizza when it is delivered, even if they haven’t ordered any - a fact he had to learn the hard way).  The pizza box in his hand keeps sending wafts of deliciousness in his direction, reminding himself that he’d unintentionally skipped dinner this evening, and he makes a deal with his stomach to fill up after this delivery.  

There’s a muffled sound of the Jeopardy theme song playing through the doorway when Jake knocks, and he hears the clank of glass against a surface before the door begins to swing open.  Twenty bucks says this is some nerdy professor, Jake thinks to himself, drawing on his biggest smile, ready to play the role of Cutest Delivery Boy to a tee.  

And then, his heart stops in his chest.

The woman that answers the door is crazy beautiful.  Beautifully warm toned skin with the most expressive eyes, her dark hair scraping her shoulders as she opens the door a little wider.  

“Heyyyyy, the pizza guy is here!”  The mystery woman smiles, leaning heavily against her doorframe as she gasps, pointing.  “And he brought PIZZA!”

If this was what nerdy professors looked like, I DEFINITELY would have paid more attention in class, Jake thinks to himself as he continues to smile, handing over the pizza to the woman’s outstretched hands.  “One deep pan, extra cheese, extra salsa.”  His voice switches into automatic pilot, reciting the line that had been forced into his memory, hands landing on his hips in the signature pose as he forces a too-wide smile onto his face.  “I hope we managed to fulfil your special request, ma’am, and it’s a good evening now that you’ve got a Sal’s Pizza.”

Her dark eyes blink dazedly for a moment before a deep blush rushes over her cheeks.  “Oh right, my uh … special request.”  They travel down Jake’s frame before heading upwards again, holding his gaze until she bites her lip.  “Yeah, I’d say you did, Pizza Guy.”

Now it’s Jake’s turn to blush, sweaty hands dropping from his waist and dangling uselessly by his side.  He’s always been a connoisseur of the Art of Flirtation, but tonight he finds himself more than a little tongue tied.  Inconveniently, Charles’ voice creeps into Jake’s mind.  Your soulmate is on the other end of this delivery.  She giggles at his obviously embarrassed reaction, shoulders bouncing as a squeaky hiccup escapes. 

Shuffling his feet, Jake’s brain switches into overdrive as he frantically tries to think of the perfect pickup line to make, but before anything incredible can be formed he begins to really take in his client’s appearance.  Her glazed over eyes, the vice like grip of her hand on the doorframe …. “Uhh, I’m always up for a bit of flattery, but … I think you might be a little intoxicated.  Do you know how much you’ve had to drink?” he asks, brows furrowing slightly as he watches the woman sway.

She shrugs, turning the movement into a dorky little side-to-side boogie as the ads begin playing on the TV in the background, an annoyingly catchy song about paper towels taking centre stage.  “Only a couple of glasses.”

Jake looks past her, taking in the incriminating evidence of two empty wine bottles sitting on the table next to the couch.  “Just a couple, huh?”

She follows his gaze, swinging her head back to him as a giggle escapes.  “Well, I mean … the bottles are made of glass, right?”

He can’t help but laugh, nodding at her observation.  “Yes.  Yes, they are.”

“See?” She laughs along with him, holding onto the pizza box with one hand as she begins stepping backwards, moving her feet into what he thinks is an attempt at the moonwalk.  Her feet, which may actually both be left, are dangerously close to tripping over each other, and just as he reaches out a hand in warning the two lefts connect - pizza box flying out of her hands as her arms begin to flail about, desperately searching for something to grab onto as she begins to fall.

Jake’s feet can’t move fast enough, and she hits her head on a small side table, landing on the ground with a thud before he can get to her.  She stays still, head twisted to the side and moaning loudly as he kneels down on the ground, paying special attention to her extremities in case she’s actually hurt herself.  “Are you okay, ma’am?” he asks.  Her receipt is still in his pocket, and he really wants to grab it out right now to remember her name, but it’s way too late for that now.  Damn my goldfish memory!  

“I’m … I’m fine.”  She swings out an arm, letting it slap against the hardwood floor near Jake’s crouched position as she turns to look at him.  “The floor is just a little spinny, that’s all.”

He stifles a grin as he looks at her determined face, already knowing that there was no point in explaining to this woman that the floor was, in fact, not spinning (or ‘spinny’, as it were).  Instead, he responds with “Yeah, spinny floors are the worst.”

She smiles at him, and his heart skips a beat just like the first time, and he kinda really wants to know her name.  “He gets it!  Thisguygetsit.” She slurs, pointing an intoxicated finger at Jake.  And he knows that she’s drunk … and he knows that she probably doesn’t have any idea what she’s saying … but tiny little butterflies begin to flutter in Jake’s stomach, gaining traction the longer she lays there, pointing her finger at him.  She’s adorable, he thinks to himself.

But, she might also be injured, and so he offers her a hand up, pretending not to notice the tingling sensation when her palm meets his.  She groans as he helps her up, right hand clapping onto her scalp, wrinkling her face and looking at him accusingly.  “How did I end up on the floor, anyway?” 

Jake grins at the woman, pointing with his free hand towards the discarded pizza box, explaining - “You were dancing away with the pizza, and tripped over your two left feet.”

Her eyes look at the box warily, looking to Jake, then back to the pizza.  “That makes sense.  I am left handed, after all.”  She nods, a movement quickly thwarted as her head obviously throbs in protest.  

Jake’s eyebrows knit together as he watches her clutch her hand to her head, and as she moves towards the couch, he clears his throat.  “Uhh, listen - I’m no expert, but I think you might be in danger of having a concussion.  Is there somebody else here, who can watch over you tonight?”

The woman’s head drops as she shakes her head slightly.  “No.  I live alone.  All alone.”  Realising the gravity of what she’s just said to this stranger, her head shoots up quickly, and Jake pretends not to notice her reactive wince.  “But I’m a cop.  A badass cop, in fact.  And I could kick your butt from here to next Sunday, Pizza Guy, so don’t you go trying anything.”

He raises his hands in mock surrender.  “Whoa there, officer.  My intentions are honourable, I swear.  I just think you might have hurt yourself a little bit, and you shouldn’t go to sleep until someone has made sure you’re okay.”  Pausing, Jake lowers his hands a little as the woman’s gaze turns less accusing.  “Is there somebody you can call?”

She shrugs.  “Rosa, I guess.”  Picking up an empty bottle, she shakes it, willing more wine to appear.  “Yeah.  Call Rosa.  Tell her to bring booze.”  She giggles, her face dropping just as quickly.  “Probably won’t come, though.  Too busy with her soulmate or whatever.”

There’s an odd mix of sadness and hope that comes from this woman speaking of her friend’s soulmate.  It was hard not to hear her bitterness, and Jake could feel himself beginning to reconsider his own opinions.  If someone as sweet as this woman is hasn’t found her match, maybe this whole soulmate thing wasn’t as ridiculous as it seems.  Clearing his throat, he twists his mouth to the side slightly before speaking.  “I’m sure if she knows you’re hurt, she’ll come over.”

Another shrug, the light from a nearby lamp catching onto her hair and making it shimmer a little.  You’re falling, Peralta.  “Maybe.”

He waits for a pause, and she looks up at him expectantly.  “Um, I … I don’t have Rosa’s number.” His tone is apologetic, which is crazy, because if anything it would’ve been weirder if he had known this Rosa’s number.  He wipes a hand across his face, trying to push some sense into his brain, and as he rubs his eyes the woman begins fishing around her couch cushions, pulling up throw pillows until she thrusts her phone into the air in triumph.  

“I do!  I have Rosa’s number.”  She unlocks the screen, handing the device over to Jake without hesitation.  He takes grip of it, watching with confused eyes as the woman shouts an answer to the game show host still on her screen before grabbing the remote control on the coffee table, fumbling at buttons until the TV switches to mute.  Turning her attention back to Jake, the woman’s eyes light up when she realises he’s still holding her phone in his hand.  “Hey!  I’ve got a great idea.  Let’s call Rosa!”  

If this had been anybody else, Jake is pretty sure by now he would have given up and left this crazy client to their own devices.  But there was something so wholesome about her vulnerability, so open to the complete stranger that he was, that he really wanted to make sure she had someone take watch over her tonight.  So with a grin taking over his face, he scrolls through her contacts until he finds (thankfully, only one) titled Rosa, pressing the call button before handing the phone back to the giggling beauty covered in crumpled sweats on the couch. 

She takes it from him with a smile, a surprised gasp escaping when the line connects and she calls out “Heyyyyy, Rosa!”

His heart squeezes a little as her face crumples into confusion, shaking her head in a futile response to the voice on the other end of the phone.  This woman is adorable.

“Whaaat? Noooo I’m not mad I’m not - I just got pizza and hit my head with it and now Pizza Guy thinks I shouldn’t go to bed and I know you can fix it so canyoufixitRosa?”

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Jake takes a quick glance around the room while the conversation continues.  It was a stark contrast to his own hole in the wall apartment, to say the least.  But oddly, he felt comfortable here, with the warm coloured tone painted on the walls, plush couches with ample throw pillows and the sweet smell of vanilla coming from … well, coming from somewhere. 

“Honestly, I’m fone - I mean, I’m fine.  It’s just … this pizza has stars on it and the couch won’t stop spinning and okay maybe I hurt myself?”  Jake watches as she drops her head into her free hand, voice lowering slightly as she mumbles, “Bring Joss .. Joz … Jocelyn over too if you want.  You totally should.  I’m fine.  Really.”

As though suddenly remembering Jake’s presence, the woman looks up and gives him a thumbs up, smiling in victory.  “You’re the besssst, Rosa!  I totally owe yo-” stopping abruptly, she looks at the phone in her hand with another giggle.  “She hung up.”

He laughs along with her, watching as she flips open the lid to the pizza box and digs out a slice, taking a step back towards the doorway, suddenly very aware that he’s been standing in a relative strangers living room for longer than normal.  “Well, as long as somebody is coming, I should leave you to enjoy your pizza ma’am.”  

Her hand pauses mid-way from her mouth, several ropes of cheese forming a bridge between pie and human as she turns her attention towards Jake.  The words are masked by a mouth full of pizza, but he makes out the words thank you, Pizza Guy! as he turns to leave.

And even though there is still a part of Jake that thinks this whole ‘waiting for your soulmate before your life can begin’ is a little ridiculous, he still sits in his car near the front of the woman’s apartment, waiting until a leather clad figure with dark curly hair appears, stomping up the staircase and slamming her finger on the same apartment number that he had half an hour ago before being buzzed into the building.  He tells himself that he’s just being a good person, making sure that a patron of his employer was safe, but there’s a tiny part of him that already knows that he cares more for this mysterious woman than he should.  

** this thing is 16k long, so find the rest on AO3! **

[honeyedhoseok]

Stitch | The V2 Series

Genre | Angst (literally only angst in this part), Taehyung x reader,  friends->lovers->friends? au, The V2 Series

Word Count | 5.1K 

Summary | “I’ve been an anchor that’s pulling on you / Stopping and stalling is all that I do / You were so bright but I painted you blue” It’s been exactly 58 days (and counting) since you last spoke to Taehyung. After weeks under your new facade, all it takes is a simple Instagram post to send you spiraling. [Takes place after the present-day argument between Taehyung and Y/N in Forever, Fire Burning Blue !]

Warnings | Mentions symptoms of depression, sadness, and anxiety. Language. 

A/N | Side Warning: Taehyung might break reader hearts by the end of this chapter. But I’m really excited to see what you all think!! Enjoy <3 

Read the other parts of The V2 Series HERE!

It’s been exactly 58 days since you’ve talked to Taehyung.

The only reason you are reminded of the number is because one of the last pictures in your phone is from the day before your argument. You two are posing with the pizza in his bed—you, with your slice covering half your face as you try not to laugh too hard at Taehyung, who had just taken a bite and slapped hot cheese on his chin.

The picture is blurry because as soon as it happened, Taehyung yelled out in pain and almost dropped his slice—so his body is a moving whirl of colors in the picture, not exactly a part of the fun that was supposed to be conveyed, while you sit there posing, perfectly content with your own piece of pizza.

You suppose it’s a good representation of how things felt in the last fleeting moments between the two of you.

You can’t delete it. Every time your thumb hovers over the trash can icon in the corner of the picture, the hurt in your chest comes back—an aching that you cannot even begin to describe, much less figure out how to get over it—and you end up exiting out of the photo app, saving the dilemma of deleting it for yet another time.

To say the least, you miss him.

To say the most, you miss him so much it feels like you’re not exactly you anymore. You miss him so much you haven’t slept well in two months. You miss him so much that nothing seems enjoyable anymore—going to work, hanging out with friends, getting dressed for a night out, going to school. Hell, even eating has become a monotony to you because nothing tastes as good, and you find yourself leaving more and more food on your plate each time you push your chair back from the table.

Despite all of this, you are doing well. You are doing well on the outside because you refuse to let anyone know the raging storm of emotions that are happening on the inside. In reality, you can’t let anyone know.

You don’t hang out with your friends as much, but you do go to work—bar tending on the weekends when you don’t have school—and you make drinks and you talk with the customers and you put on a fake smile for all the dirty old men who flirt with you after they order their third, fourth, and fifth beer.

You spend a lot of time with Hongbin, trying hard to devote all the time and energy that you didn’t have before to showing him that you now undoubtedly care for him like no other person on earth.

You are living a lie. But it’s okay because you hope one day it will merge itself into the truth if you just keep pretending long enough.

Another week passes by under your new facade.

You are sitting in the living room with Hongbin, eyes glazing over some sitcom on the television that he insisted on watching each night after dinner, when your phone lights up on the table in front of you.

You pick it up, eyes still trained on the TV, letting out a small giggle at the antics of one of the characters. When your gaze finally drops down to the lit-up screen with the notification sitting in the middle, your stomach drops at the tiny words alerting you of the one person you’ve been trying to forget.

tvehyung posted to their story for the first time in a while

You read it over a few times, trying to decide if you should even indulge in looking at his social media. The two of you hadn’t deleted each other on anything—you were still friends on Snapchat, Twitter, and Facebook, as well—you just weren’t talking or acknowledging each other’s presence.

Taehyung’s social media accounts had been inactive for the whole two-month silence. What could he have posted, suddenly?

You shift the blanket covering your legs over to Hongbin, untangling yourself from his embrace to walk to the bathroom; he hadn’t noticed the stiffening of your body when you looked at your phone, which you were grateful for. If you were going to break the personal limitations set for yourself, the least you could do is allow yourself to do it in private.

You close the door behind you with a soft click, choosing to sink down onto the fluffy, white rug in front of the bathroom cabinets rather than perch on the closed toilet lid or the side of the tub. Your hands grip your phone with sweaty urgency as you finally click on the notification, holding your breath while your screen pulls up Taehyung’s Instagram story.

It’s just a picture of him at a café, clearly taken earlier that day—a coffee sits in front of him and in the corner is a geotag for the place. It’s nothing special and so you let out the breath, feeling triumphant in overcoming an obstacle—what obstacle you aren’t sure, but you know the feeling of relief that flows through your veins is one you welcome.

However, you make the grave mistake of clicking on his profile afterward—suspecting that you are going to see the same pictures he’d previously posted and hadn’t updated in months.

You are extremely mistaken.

Sitting—beautifully, you might add—in the top left corner of his feed is a new selfie that has your shaky fingers clicking on instantly, your eyes drinking in the photo and caption. At first you are excited—it’s Taehyung in all his handsome glory, staring with mild disinterest in the camera—but the caption is what gets you.

“Han Yeseul?” you breathe out, your stomach knotting at the just the sound of the syllables all together, at the images they send flashing through your brain, at what they mean for your quickly-crumbling facade.

You click on her name and have to close your eyes for a second to stop the rolling nausea that floods your system; her profile contains, in a neat row at the very top, three pictures of Taehyung with his new petunia-colored hair—all posted within the last week.

He is walking in front of her in one—stylish as ever in a chic button down and black trousers, his overcoat thrown over his shoulder.

He is smiling in the next, happy as hell as he sits across from her at fancy restaurant downtown.

He is brushing his teeth in the most recent, looking messy and pretty from having just woken up—with Yeseul obviously in the same state behind the camera lens from the early morning time stamp on the picture.

Each caption is vague, but they don’t need to say anymore—the pictures do enough to justify the situation at hand.

Taehyung is not mourning your separation by not sleeping, not eating, not feeling; no, Taehyung is living. Unlike you, Taehyung is moving on.

Specifically, to another girl.

You press a hand over your trembling lips, tossing your phone to the side in the bathroom as you scramble toward the toilet, gripping the edges as you release the jittery contents of your stomach into the porcelain bowl.

It’s about a week later after seeing the picture that Yeonwoo wakes you up by pounding incessantly on your apartment door.

You groan, rolling out of bed and rubbing sleep out of your eyes as you stumble towards the sound, thinking of all the cuss words possible to spew at her when you finally open it—

“What?” you snap, squinting at her through the lines of your screen door. “What is it?”

“Why aren’t you answering your phone?” she asks, shoulders slumping. “I’ve been calling you all morning.”

“I was sleeping!” you exclaim, opening the door to let her in.

“Y/N it’s 2 p.m.,” she responds, looking at you wearily. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you grumble. “It’s my day off—I had two double shifts at the bar.”

Yeonwoo walks into the kitchen, setting her purse down on the table.

“Well, I don’t know if you remember or not, since I haven’t heard from you since I asked—” She presses the button on your coffee maker and pulls two mugs down from the cabinet, “—but I asked you to ride to town with me to get stuff for the party this weekend.”

You slump down at the table, still halfway out of it from the rude awakening you’d received just a few short moments ago.

“A party?” you croak. “Who is throwing a party?”

“I am,” she says, sighing. “We talked about this.”

“Right, right,” you say, waving a hand in the air dismissively. “Listen, Yeonwoo. I forgot and I’m tired, I really don’t feel like walking around in town—”

“Y/N, please!” she says, clasping her hands together. “You promised you would because Hyejin can’t!”

Your eyes glaze over her pouty face, taking in the shiny lip gloss swiped across her poked-out bottom lip and the lashes that graze her eyebrows as she widens her doe-like eyes.

“Please,” she says again. “I’ll wait for you to get dressed—I’ll have a cup of coffee and watch TV so you can shower!”

You groan, running a hand through your hair—it gets caught in one of the knots caused by your incessant tossing and turning in bed and you drop it back to the table, ignoring the twitch of Yeonwoo’s mouth at the action.

You know that you should go out and do something—you haven’t been out of the house in God-knows how long, which is why Hongbin wasn’t around today. It was his day off as well, but he was out with some guy friends from work. Asking you to do something the night before had ended terribly—you two got into an argument and he’d slept on the couch. He’d obviously gotten up and dressed while you were still snoozing happily in bed.

You’d also asked him to stop the get-togethers at your apartment every other weekend; you didn’t want to have to deal with the possibility of him inviting Taehyung—just the thought of that situation made anxiety twist in your stomach.

You knew you were being ridiculous, but you couldn’t bring yourself to snap out of it. You just wanted to be left alone to wallow in whatever self-pity phase you were going through until you could get over it yourself—not because someone else wanted you to or needed you to.

“Hyejin and I are really starting to worry about you,” Yeonwoo adds on quietly, gaze dropping from yours. “You know you can talk to us if something is bothering you, right?”

You nod, fixating your gaze somewhere out the window in the kitchen. “I’m fine,” you repeat dryly.

“We even tried to ask Tae, because we thought you were mad at us or something—”

“You talked to Taehyung?” you say, your eyes immediately finding hers again. She looks surprised at the urgency in your tone, but she nods.

“Yeah, he said you just needed some time alone—and so we’ve been trying to give you that but, we miss you, Y/N.”

Your lips press together in a hard line. So far, Taehyung had been very adamant about keeping the fact that you two weren’t talking under wraps. Even in the face of your best friends, he was still acting like everything was perfectly fine between you two, and not like you hadn’t talked in over two months.

“Is everything okay at work?” Yeonwoo asks lightly. “Maybe you should take some time off, I know it’s hard to juggle that and your night classes sometimes—”

“I really don’t need anyone else suggesting what I need to do for myself,” you snap, rising from your chair. “Hongbin does enough of that for everyone. I know what I can handle.”

Yeonwoo presses her lips together in a tight line, nodding. “Okay.”

“I’m going to take a shower,” you say, returning to your bedroom quickly before the hurt in her eyes can make you feel any worse than you already do.

Yeonwoo talks animatedly in the front seat as you drive downtown, catching you up on all the things you’d missed in the group chat with her and Hyejin during the weeks before.

You felt bad for silencing their messages, but it was annoying to see their constant stream of texts when you had nothing to say—you hoped that if you stopped reading and replying, they’d get the hint and take their chats into a separate group; thankfully, they did in the end. The chat had been silent for days, which is when you supposed they asked Taehyung about your current distanced disposition.

You do more listening and making small agreement noises than talking during the ride, letting your eyes drift over to the scenery passing by in a blur by the window until you start seeing the familiar store fronts of downtown.

“Do you mind if we eat something first?” Yeonwoo suggests, looking over at you with caution, as if at any moment you could bite her head off for the second time that day at a suggestion she made.

You nod in silence, deciding to let her have this one thing. You were a little hungry, so you could do this for her.

“Something small,” you suggest quietly, and that’s enough to sate Yeonwoo. She straightens her back, placing her hands higher on the wheel and gives a quick flash of a grin your way.

“Great,” she says. “There’s this café downtown I wanted to show you.”

You don’t ask which one. You don’t want to start Yeonwoo on a rant again. Instead, you lean back in your seat, allowing your head to press against the backing and close your eyes. She picks up on your obvious dislike for the conversation she was trying to carry on and quiets down, turning the radio up a few notches and singing softly to a song.

The café is one that you’ve never been to before, but your curiosity immediately heightens as you get out of the car, eyes tracing the name hovering above the door that sparks recognition in your brain.

Café Du Monde.

It seems so familiar, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on when or where you’d heard it before. Yeonwoo is already out of the car, pushing the door open to the café and holding it for you. She looks back over her shoulder, eyebrows furrowing at the troubled look on your face.

“What’s wrong?” she says. “I promise the bagels here are really good!”

“It’s nothing,” you say quickly, speeding up to catch up with her. You follow her inside, taking in the quaint atmosphere of the coffee shop—everything is wooden and modern, and strings of white, holiday lights line the walls; Yeonwoo watches you, trying to gauge your reaction.

Your eyes finally meet hers and you smile at her. “It’s really cute.”

“Isn’t it?” she says, bouncing on her toes a little. “They sell real macchiato here—like the espresso shot, not the sixteen-ounce version in a cup you get from Starbucks. And I heard the chai latte and the hot chocolate are really good, although, I’ve never tried it, but I heard from Mina that—”

You’re half-listening, half-not because you’re gazing at the menu behind the bar, looking at all the different flavors you could get in your coffee. The bell above the shop door tinkles again as the door is pushed back open, and your eyes graze over to the newcomer in the shop.

Your heart sinks.

The door swings shut behind the customer, and reality comes crashing down on you all at once. Café Du Monde—it’s the same cafe that Taehyung had posted about on his Instagram a few days before. But the thought doesn’t reach you until you’re swinging your gaze over, landing on the countenance of a gorgeous, five-foot-ten man that you know better than anyone else on the planet.

But your stomach doesn’t ignite in delight like it normally would, because when Taehyung’s eyes find yours, the look is empty—unfeeling and void of all the emotions you’ve seen it hold for you before. He doesn’t acknowledge your presence in the slightest, and instead, gets in line a few customers behind you and Yeonwoo.

You eyes want to follow his retreating figure but you whip your gaze back towards the menu, trying to calm the hammering in your chest as Yeonwoo steps up to the counter—completely oblivious to the situation at hand unfolding just a few inches behind her. You feel like you’re vibrating, unable to control the unrelenting tremors of your fingers as you search around your wallet for your debit card.

“I’ll just take a coffee, black,” you say quickly when it’s your turn, slapping your debit card on the counter and sinking your teeth into your lip to stop it from trembling. The barista takes their time, swiping your card and whipping around what looks like an iPad on a stand for you to tip and sign.

Yeonwoo is already seated at a table near the front of the shop, and you walk over slowly with your mug, avoiding looking up until you are settled in front of her. She nods disapprovingly at your choice.

“I thought you were going to get something,” she says—emphasizing that something meant a drink along the lines of the sugary, whipped concoction she was clutching in her own hands. “But maybe their classic roast is good?”

“I don’t think my stomach can handle that right now,” you confess, giving her a small smile.

Yeonwoo hums, eyes tracing your figure with curiosity. “You look so thin these days. Are you dieting?”

“What? No.” you answer, half-listening. “I like eating.”

You break, and glance back quickly over your shoulder at the line to the cash register. Taehyung is at the counter now, giving his order to the cashier in a calm tone. The murmurs of his honey voice float over to where you and Yeonwoo are sitting, weighing heavy on your heart. When you turn back around, she is looking past you at the line as well, and your heart beat stutters when her eyes light up in recognition.

“Isn’t that Taehyung?” she says, sitting up a little in her seat. “Hey, Tae—”

“Yeonwoo, uh, maybe we shouldn’t—he’s like—” you stutter out but it’s too late.

“Taehyung!” she calls again. He turns around with his drink in hand, raising his eyebrows at Yeonwoo as if he didn’t see her—or you—at all when he first came in. “Come here!”

You grip the sides of your steaming cup, focusing in on the feeling of hot ceramic burning your palms as you hear Taehyung’s soft footfalls come closer. He stops at the edge of your table, and you peek a glance at his navy slacks as you slowly bring your cup up to your mouth, stalling for the inevitable moment you know is coming very, very soon.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” Yeonwoo says, smiling at him. “Isn’t this place awesome?”

He nods. “I’m just meeting a friend here.”

“Oh, cool,” Yeonwoo says, and you meet her eyes over the table. She raises an eyebrow at you but continues. “What’d you get to drink?”

Could she tell how uncomfortable you were? Was it suddenly louder in the cafe? Hotter? Could she see the literal static buzzing between your ears from being in the same room, much less, the same personal space as Taehyung for the first time in over two months?

“I got a Black and Tan,” Taehyung says.

He laughs a little when Yeonwoo makes a face. The sound makes you feel breathless.

“What? Is that not good?” he asks. “That’s what I’ve been getting since they opened! The barista recommended.”

Yeonwoo shakes her head in disappointment. “You and Y/N are so similar,” she says. “She just got black coffee.”

“Oh yeah?” Taehyung says.

You can feel it coming before it happens. You stiffen in your seat, muscles contracting as if bracing yourself for the hit that is Taehyung’s gaze finally falling on you. The first words that he’s spoken to you in two months come out slowly, as if you can see every movement of his lips and tongue in slow motion as he says:

“You’re not much of a coffee drinker.” His face stays passive, unemotional. “I’m surprised you’re here.”

You press your lips together, giving the smallest shrug you can muster at his comment. It’s true, of course; what you had in front of you was absolutely disgusting, but it’s contents void of any real flavor was soothing and easy to swallow—especially now to your particularly parched throat. The comment feels just the slightest bit sinister, as if Taehyung was annoyed by your presence at a place you weren’t normally a fan of. As if you were intruding on his own personal time away from you.  

Your quickly eyes drop from his, embarrassed.

Luckily, Yeonwoo reels his sharpened gaze back to her. “Who are you meeting?” she asks. “Would you guys want to sit with us for a bit?”

The thought of being there any longer was starting to become unbearable to you, so you pipe up quickly, “Well, we were just heading out, right? Didn’t you want to go shopping, for the party?”

Yeonwoo’s brow crinkles at the urgency in your tone, but there’s little you can do to hide it. You hope for once she understands and asks questions later—when you were both away from Taehyung.

“Party?” Taehyung asks, taking a cautious sip of the hot drink in his hands.

“Yeah, next Saturday at my house,” Yeonwoo chirps, grinning. It falls quickly and she looks back and forth between you and Taehyung. “Y/N didn’t tell you?”

“I’ve been busy,” Taehyung covers—cool and collected as always. “I must’ve forgotten, sorry. I’ll be there, though.”

“Great!”

Yeonwoo pulls her purse strap up on her shoulder, using her other hand to grab onto her drink as she stands up from the table. You do the same in a more hurried fashion, keeping your eyes down. You feel like a kicked puppy, but you can’t quite put your finger on why. You want to be angry, more confident, more assertive in the situation that was unfolding between you and Taehyung. Instead, seeing him made you feel worse. It reminded you that this whole thing was happening because of you—because you were greedy and selfish and completely deserving of his steely stare and the feeling of tucking your tail between your legs and running like a coward away from it.

Just as you are saying your goodbyes—or, rather, Yeonwoo is saying them for the both of you—the doorbell to Cafe Du Monde chimes again, alerting the entrance of another customer. As you are shuffling past the newcomer toward the exit, you hear Taehyung call out in his honeyed baritone, “Yeseul! I got us a seat over here.”

Yeseul. Han Yeseul.

Your head whips around over your shoulder and you see her petite frame walking towards Taehyung. It’s not her presence that bothers you the most, because it’s Taehyung’s face that you have the clear view of. His countenance has changed—he is smiling broadly as she bends down to land a small kiss on his cheek before sliding into the booth across from him, sunbeams practically radiating between the spaces of his teeth as he looks at her.

You press your trembling lips together, letting go of the cafe door and letting it slam with a bang! behind you on accident. But you can’t be bothered with the embarrassment that comes with it—there’s already too much weighing on your heart from your previous conversation, mixed with grief, shame, unsettledness, and just the tiniest dash of jealousy.

In reality, it’s more jealousy than you would ever be willing to admit.

Your body feels unable to carry the weight of your withheld feelings anymore, and so, when you slide into the passenger seat of Yeonwoo’s town car, the first tear rolls down your nose and drips off onto the lid of the coffee cup in your hand.

“Was it just me, or was Tae acting kind of weird?” Yeonwoo asks, pulling her mirror down to check her hair and reapply her lip gloss.

Another tear follows, creating a bigger puddle on the plastic. Followed by another. And another.

“Is anyone really too busy to remember the date of something?” she asks, frowning at her own reflection. “Well, I mean, I guess you were today. But that’s an exception—” She giggles a little and finally looks over at you. “At least he corrected himself, rig—oh my god, Y/N. What’s wrong?”

You shake your head, sniffling and wiping away the tears harshly. You don’t speak for the sake of keeping your lips pressed tightly together, hiding the sob that’s forcing its way up your throat.

“Don’t lie to me,” Yeonwoo presses, reaching out to put a hand on your back. “Something has you like this. Talk to me.”

“I—” you pause, feeling the tears flow down your cheeks as you search for what to say.

It didn’t make sense why this was bothering you so much. It wasn’t just meeting Taehyung in the cafe, it was the feelings you’d been battling with for two the months. The loneliness and bitterness and emptiness you felt without him. And you certainly couldn’t relay that information to Yeonwoo—not yet, anyways.

“Tae and I—we’re—” You pause to sniffle again and Yeonwoo’s eyes widen.

“I knew it!” she says. “You two were being too weird back there. I knew something was going on!”

“What?” you say, lifting your head up and looking her fully in the face.

Suddenly your friend seems to have stumbled across a discovery that had been brewing underneath the surface of her thoughts for a while, the way her eyes search yours both pensive and knowing at the same time.

“No,” you say, “We’re just—we had a fight. A bad one.” You wipe at your eyes with a tissue that Yeonwoo finally hands you from her purse, and she nods cautiously, encouraging you to go on. “It’s all my fault and because, you know how I am—I don’t know how to make it better, Yeonwoo.”

“Oh,” Yeonwoo exhales. The sound is both one of relief and of pity. “Oh, Y/N. It’s Taehyung. You guys have been friends for so long, don’t you think he just needs a little time to get over it?”

You blow your nose into the tissue, shaking your head. The tears are constant now, all your feelings rushing over the brim of your eyelids in the form of fat, hot droplets that drip off your chin and onto your shirt and jeans. The way Yeonwoo is gauging your reactions to her questions makes you fidget in your seat—did she somehow know? That was impossible, right?

“What did you guys fight about?”

“Yeseul,” you answer honestly.

“Yeseul? Who is that?” Yeonwoo asks, before her mouth drops open, “Her? The girl that just walked in the cafe to sit with him?”

You nod. “He’s kind of busying himself with her lately—which I understand, I left Taehyung to spend time with Hongbin before, too—but, I don’t know. I just—”

“Miss him?” Yeonwoo finishes. “Aw, Y/N.” She reaches across the middle console in her car, pulling you in for the awkwardest of hugs she can manage with both of your seatbelts on. “Don’t worry, okay? It’s going to get better. Taehyung just needs some time, but maybe you should try to talk to him. I’m sure he doesn’t know it’s bothering you like this.”

The understatement of the year, you think. But you accept her hug, pressing your face into the soft material of her top and hoping you don’t pull away to see the black streak of your smudged mascara.

“Do you want me to uninvite him from the party?” she asks when she pulls away, keeping you at arm's length. Her brows furrow over her innocent eyes, making her look comically mad in a way that makes you want to smile. “I can go back in there right now. I’ll tell him to keep his ass away from my house—”

“No,” you say quickly, shaking your head. “No, Yeonwoo, really. It’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” she says. “I know you love him and all, but I can go take back my invitation if it means saving you some awkwardness next weekend.”

You try not to let her choice of words bother you. She studies you for a minute—taking in the redness of your face and nose, the glassiness of eyes fresh from crying, the way your lips still tremble a little when you’re not talking, the tightness of the grip you have on the crumpled tissue in your left hand.

“I’m good,” you say. “Really. I promise.”

Yeonwoo continues to look at you and for a second, it scares the shit out of you—as if she’s seeing right through your facade and down to the real problem: you didn’t just love Taehyung; You were in love with Taehyung and had no fucking clue what to do about it.

Yeonwoo’s mouth opens and closes, and you’re so sure she’s about to call you out that your heartbeat triples in your chest, hammering a steading rhythm that you hear in your ears, almost drowning out what she does finally say.

“Fine.” She presses her lips together. “I won’t go yell at him today. But he’s a real jerk if he can’t tell that his attitude isn’t making this any better.”

You sigh in relief, settling back into your seat as Yeonwoo puts the car in reverse and backs out of her parking spot.

It was starting to look like you didn’t give anyone enough credit for perceptiveness—the faint adrenaline rush receding from your veins was evidence enough that you needed to be more careful when showing your emotions, and not just when Taehyung was around. The realization has you second guessing every interaction you and Taehyung have ever had in front of your friends, expecting them to brush it off as two people who were extremely close from years of friendship.

You give Cafe Du Monde one final glance before you pull away, delivering the TKO punch to your gut for the day. At a seat by the window, you see through the clear glass window where Taehyung and Yeseul sit—laughing, happy, oblivious, and full of life and love as they chat with each other.

[kittybennett]

your choice | anti-soulmate au where they weren't born with soul-mates and they meet in a group where other people who don't have them meet-up. and they come to the conclusion that they're not weirdos for not having them. cause they have the group and each other jhskfjksdf - @malcolmbrights​

ok i’m sorry this turned REALLY long but here we go.

aka: five times ev didn’t go to support group and one time she did

i.

Evelyn Reyes spends much of her sixteenth year of life staring into reflective surfaces in the vain hope that she will find a soulmark has bloomed on her skin while she wasn’t looking. Most people are born within them, though it isn’t entirely unheard of for the matching tattoos to make themselves known in the years between childhood and adolescence. A teenager already, Evelyn is a rarity, late even by the most generous of time frames, and this makes her a repository for her peers’ pity. She takes to wearing long sleeves even in the sweltering heat of summer to avoid questions, but finds that it’s all people want to talk to her about. No matter how they phrase their comforting platitudes or prying questions, it all sounds the same to her.

Are you scared that you might be utterly alone? How relieved I am that it’s you and not me.

Evelyn hates them all, but most of all she hates the guidance counselor who calls her into her office to offer ‘support’ and gives Evelyn a flyer for a group of people with deceased soulmates. It’s not the same, the counselor explains, but those in the group might understand what Evelyn is going through. They can sympathize on how horrible it is to not have a soulmate.

Her cheeks burn hot. She shoves the flyer into the pocket of her hoodie and begs to be excused. On her way home she tears the flyer into little pieces and throws it over a bridge, watching the pieces of paper flutter and land on the river below while angry, shameful tears prick at her eyes.

After that, she stops checking her body for new marks.

ii. The first man that Evelyn loves also takes pains to keep covered up. Unlike Evelyn, he actually has something to hide: a bright blue tattoo of a bird in flight. The space where it adorns his forearm is usually bandaged lest Jamie’s eager admirers find a way to replicate it and render the mark useless.

When they lie together at night, Evelyn traces the mark. It’s the closest she’s ever been to one that didn’t belong to either of her parents, and even at a young age she knew not to ask questions about theirs.

“They weren’t soulmates.” Evelyn tells her lover one night. “His died when they were little — childhood sweethearts. And my mom has never talked about hers, but I know he’s gone too. She wouldn’t have married my father or had me if she thought he was still out there.”

What she doesn’t confess hangs in the air. Jamie addresses it anyway.

“You know that’s not the reason you’re like this, right?”

Evelyn is silent but the finger that was tracing his mark stills.

“Evelyn. It’s just bad luck. Seriously.” He tilts her face so he can stare into her eyes. Jamie is rarely serious, so this sudden sobriety makes it difficult for Evelyn to hold his gaze, but she does. “Bad things happen to lots of people, and it’s not the end of the world. My cousin is widowed, and he remarried and—“

Before he can finish his story, Evelyn kisses him. And kisses him. Her distraction works.

That night Evelyn prays for the first time in well over a decade: asking for a blue bird on her forearm. ( She breaks up with Jamie a week later. Better to get out with her heart mostly intact. She never does find out what happened to that cousin of his, though sometimes she wonders if she should have let Jamie finish. )

iii.

“Would it kill you to write something happy for once? Just one ballad about summer love, or getting dicked down?”

Evelyn frowns. “You know I’m not the bubblegum pop type.”

“That’s for sure.” Her producer sighs. “Listen, you’re good. But can’t you just write a love song that isn’t super … intense and depressing? Give us something fun and light-hearted for once.”

“What if I haven’t felt that?”

“Then pretend, or talk to someone who has.” The producer fixes her with a look between pity and sternness. “Seriously, Evie. Don’t come back here without a love song. And get a therapist.”

Evelyn returns in a week with a song about the thrill of a first glance and the intense flush of devotion that follows it. The song spends several weeks on the charts and goes viral after someone creates a Tik Tok dance for it, though none of that matters to sole inspiration for the song: Evelyn’s new cat.

iv.

Her second-ever happy love song is not as commercially successful, but it is inspired by a human being this time. Naomi is brilliant, and funny, and the most talented actress of her generation (according to a Vanity Fair correspondent but Evelyn is inclined to agree). The first time she refers to Evelyn as “the love of my life”, Evelyn spends the better part of a week repeating the moment in her mind.

Naomi really should have thought to mention the caveat.

Three years later, Evelyn laughs at something a precocious child on a television program says and asks, “What would you do if your child asked you that?”

Naomi shakes her head. “Pour myself some scotch and direct them towards their other mom, or dad.”

Evelyn is frozen.

Other mom or dad. Not you. Not the love of her life. Because Evelyn is only the love of Naomi’s life … for now.

Evelyn turns off the television program. “You don’t think we’ll raise children together?”

Naomi looks sheepish. To her credit, she picks her words more carefully this time. “Evelyn … be realistic. I love you so much but - someday I’m going to meet the real thing. You can’t ask me to say no to them for you.”

Evelyn feels the same hot shame she did when she was sixteen and finally accepting that she had no soulmate and never would. This time she won’t cry, not in front of Naomi. “I’m a person. Not your training wheels.”

She moves out the next day.

v.

Dating apps aren’t much different, as it turns out. She has way too many messages from people who assume that being bisexual means she wants nothing more than to fulfill the threesome fantasies of heterosexual couples, and even more messages from people who think that because she is “unmarked”, she isn’t looking for anything serious. To be unmarked is to be written off entirely as a romantic partner, or at least as a serious one.

She deletes the dating app, but not before she posts a screenshot of her DMs to her Instagram with a caption finally addressing the rumors that she is unmarked.

I've always been private regarding the subject, but I owe it to anyone else like me to be more candid about my experiences as someone without a soulmark. Yes — I am unmarked, but not unworthy.

That night she’s flooded with messages from others like her, who thank her and repost her message. It’s humbling and uplifting all at once and Evelyn is guilty that she didn’t do it sooner. She responds to as many as she possibly can.

( One message stands out among the rest:

@ teorror: hey @reyevie​  - if you’re in nyc, my support group would love to have you! we meet at [ …. ] )

vi.

In the end, it’s not another rejection or loneliness or even solidarity that leads Evelyn to finally try talking to others like her.

It’s pettiness, and a lot of annoyance.

A former classmate posts a soulmate announcement on Facebook in which the caption describes meeting her soulmate for the first time as the single most important day of anyone’s life, the center of the human experience.

It makes Evelyn grit her teeth.

She is indignant that anyone would not consider the pain and feelings of inadequacy those words might cause for unmarked youth like the ones she’s received messages from, or her younger self. And she realizes with a pang of regret: it’s not just social media, or dating apps. It’s also the songs that people like Evelyn have written, the films and books that saturate the market that convince everyone that no other kind of love or measure of happiness matters when compared to romantic love.

As much as Evelyn craves it, she refuses to accept that it should overshadow every other aspect of her life.

She scrolls through her messages until she finds the one from @teorror again, inviting her to join his group and decides to show up and prove her point, even if she’s the only one who knows it.

To her initial horror, the group is small. There are only three people there, and Evelyn is just about ready to turn on her heel and walk away rather than join such an intimate gathering when a man bolts from his chair with an overjoyed expression on his face.

“Hey! You actually came!” He goes to her, and offers his hand to be shaked. “Can I call you Ev? Guys! This is Ev! The singer I was telling you guys about? Come on, sit down.”

The man she’s guessing is Teorror (Teo, she’ll later learn) guides her towards the others and the other man produces a chair for her and introduces himself as Rico.

Mercifully, they don’t ask her to introduce herself first or talk first. The woman next to her (Claudia) does, then Rico and Teo. Eventually they all turn to Evelyn.

“You don’t have to share if you’re not ready, Ev.” Claudia says, adopting Teo’s nickname for Evelyn. “The first time can be overwhelming.”

Ev nods, but feels she should try anyway. “I’m Evelyn — and as I guess you’ve figured, I’m also an unmarked.”

Immediately, a shadow crosses over the faces of the others. Evelyn stops.

“We try not to use that word.” Rico says gently and Evelyn can tell he’s taking care to not embarrass her. “It isn’t good to define ourselves by what we don’t have, rather than what we do.”

“Tell us about you. Teo says you’re a singer?” Claudia coaxes helpfully.

Teo offers Evelyn another wide smile. “I used to call myself leftovers. Or spare parts. I thought it was really funny, you know? But they’re right: focusing on what you lack just sets you up for more pain.”

It’s something to think about. She’s back for the session next week.

As the months go by, she sees the group outside of meetings too, starting with a potluck at Teo’s and leading to drinks and mechanical bull rides with Rico, or sightseeing with Claudia. At first she wonders what it might be like to share a soulmark with one of them … to find a soulmate after all … but eventually, she nearly stops thinking of the marks altogether.

Those fantasies end entirely after another night of dancing, as they’re having greasy fast food and Teo slings his arm around her as he tells a story that requires exaggerated facial expressions and wild hand gestures. She laughs and almost misses the moment where Claudia returns to the table with her order and slides her a crispy taco (Ev’s favorite) and Rico picks at the tomato (which Ev’s hates) and places it beside his own burger so that Evelyn won’t have to. They know her well, she realizes, better than anyone. They love her better than anyone …and suddenly Evelyn feels overwhelmed with her love for them in return.

Here is the intimacy she’s been craving her whole life: a love that doesn’t ask her to define herself by it, or insist upon its sole importance. It simply accepts, and gives. 

Evelyn can only wonder why she ever thought this wouldn’t be enough.

[harryimaginestuff]

Dreams Part 2

A speedy update! This is part 2 of dreams, I hope you enjoy!

Also I changed the POV kind of so it’s now ‘you’ rather than ‘her/she’. Sorry for the inconsistency between part 1 and 2. 

Word count:  2110

Genre: Angst

     Harry lounges on the sofa of his friend, who was kind enough to let him crash for a while, that is, after a long and tiresome berating of why Harry was a ‘immature, selfish idiot who doesn’t know happiness even if it were to slap you in the face’.

    With the break-up happening only a week ago, he could honestly say that he was doing fine, granted that after y/n slammed the door in his face that day, he sobbed into his phone to his mother, who also proceeded to give him shit for his actions. But after a week of hearing why he was making a mistake from practically everyone he knew; he was completely sick and tired of being given these lessons repeatedly.

    ‘This was what I wanted’ he would tell them in a sulk, annoyed that all these people thought they could lecture him on something that’s his.

Or was his.

    But that was no longer the point, because he was content with his decision, deciding after a week that this breakup was good for the both of them, whether or not it was only on his terms.

    He couldn’t lie though, there were countless of times where he would catch himself clicking on the photos app and scrolling mindlessly through the hundreds of images he had of the both of you. In fact, two days after his departure, after he stalked your social media filled with images of the two of you, he found himself writing you a birthday greeting. After all, he thought, after knowing you for so many years, the least he could do was wish you a happy 24thbirthday, even if you didn’t want to hear it from him.

    However, a reply never came, not soon after he sent it, not as the evening approached, and definitely not now, a few days later.

    Your negligence to reply clearly stated that this was permanent, and this moment was also when he realised that it would definitely be permanent for him too. So, he found himself once again scrolling through his phone, only this time it was to erase all the memories he had once shared with you. Out of sight out of mind, he figured.

    “Mitch!” he shouted, grabbing the attention of his new roommate.

    “Yes Harry?” Mitch replied, plonking himself besides his friend.

    “Let’s go out tonight, it’ll be like old times.” Harry gasped, a sudden idea coming to his mind, “you could like wingman me or something, I would do the same for you, but you’ve got Sarah now.”

    Harry watched as his best mate rubbed his forehead, an attempt to rid himself of the frown that took over his features. “Is that really a good idea Harry?” Mitch huffed, trying to work out if there was something wrong with the boy, that sat in front of him. “It’s only been a week.”

    “Yeah, well m’feeling fine, really good actually, so I’d like to go out.” A smile gracing his face at the concern of his friend.

    “Okay Harry, whatever you want I guess.” He stood up, dusting himself, but just before he left the room, he turned his gaze towards his friend, “and just so you know, it wasn’t you who I was concerned about.”

    That night, Harry found his lips on another, much to Mitch’s dismay. However, Harry concluded as he lay in the spare from of his friend, that the freedom he received lived nowhere near his expectations. It was too tedious and dispassionate.

   This led him to concluding that it was his age, maybe now that he was 25 random hook-ups in a club were no longer his thing, or maybe it was the girl’s fault for the shitty kiss, or maybe it was his, maybe because he was so out of practice that he no longer had the game he once did years ago.

    As the excuses filled his head, he managed to avoid one, ironically it was the only true one. That deep within his chest unbeknownst to him, there was a small dull ache that would soon explode from within, propelling him into a sadness and guilt that was beyond his imagination.

//

    The only thing that could be heard was the rhythmic ticking of the clock that was slowly driving y/n mad. You had been sat at your desk at work for what seemed like hours trying to get the work that was sent to you done before the end of the day.

    Over the past week you had been doing everything in your power to stay distracted, whether it was working out, going to work, or mindlessly walking through the city. Although the fix was only temporary because when you returned from your work out, work or walk, you would always find yourself crying softly into your pillow at night, willing that the soft piece of furniture would somehow transform itself into the man you love.

Unsurprisingly, it never did.

    Mitch had come the day before to pick up the rest of Harry’s things and y/n tried to remain nonchalant about the situation, but your curiosity got the best of you.

    “How’s he doing?” You found yourself asking just before Mitch walked out of the front door.

    “Honestly?” y/n nodded in response. “Good, I think. At least if he isn’t good he’s hiding it well. He made me go ou-” Mitch cut himself off, wary about his accidental confession.

    “He’s been going out already?” Surprise was clear in your voice. “Did he-has he, you know.” Whatever the answer was she definitely didn’t want to hear it.

    “No, he didn’t.” He struggled over whether it was his place to say, as on one hand, Harry was his best friend, but on the other, he had this broken woman in front of him who deserved to know the truth. So, he finally settled on yes, it was his place. “He kissed someone.” Mitch swore that he could’ve burst into tears in that moment as he watched your face dropped, and your skin pale.

“Oh, right. Thanks for telling me I guess.”

    “I’m so sorry y/n. You don’t deserve this heartbreak right now, or ever really. I just want to let you know, that even though I was Harry’s friend before, if you ever need someone to talk to I’ll be there.”

    “Thanks Mitch.” Your tone was blunt, unlike the knife that had twisted its way into your chest.

And just like that, your heart had shattered in your chest once again.

    You sniffled softly at your desk, breathing deeply in an attempt to rid yourself from the tears that were brewing. You couldn’t be weak anymore, it was clear as day that Harry was dead set on his decision, and that the happy birthday message he had sent you was simply out of courtesy from sharing almost 4 birthdays with you. Although you couldn’t lie; you had wished that he followed his message with something else that showed he regretted what he did. But there was nothing, so you never replied.

    “Hey y/n! Did you want to go to lunch?” the sound of your co-worker pulled you out of your thoughts. James had always had a small crush on you, pining after you in the shadows, offering himself as a friend during the time you had spent working. He was sweet and kind and constantly doing the right thing.

    “Well I was going to take it in 15, but I guess I could come now.” You smiled, grabbing your bag and following him to the breakroom.

    You had always enjoyed his company, platonically that it, because he was always so genuine, and although he wasn’t discreet about his crush as you had caught him staring at you on multiple occasions, he was always respectful to the relationship you had with Harry and was even respectful now, despite knowing of your recent split.

    “There’s this bar that keeps getting recommended to me something… Wales.” He spoke as you both dug into your lunches.

    “Oh! The Prince of Wales,” he nodded, “I know it, I love it there.” In fact, you and Harry loved it there, it was where you spent your first year anniversary, both of you rejecting the idea of a fancy dinner, and was where you both celebrated each of your birthdays every year, after deeming it a special place in your hearts.

    James smiled at this, his heart fluttering at the opportunity. “We should go then, sometime after work next week.”

    You smiled lightly in return, hesitantly replying, “Um, yeah sure. I guess. I love to bring my friends there.”

“Great, it’s a date.”

    ‘No, it’s not really’ you thought, but grinned softly instead, unwilling to correct your kind friend.

//

    Another week had passed, and Harry had never felt so shit in his life. Guilt consumed him, and still was, squeezing itself into his mind any way that it could.

    Mitch had returned from picking up the rest of Harry’s belongings the other day, where he then proceeded to dump his things on the bed where Harry lay.

    “She’s miserable.” Mitch suddenly said, bitterness overtaking his features. “I don’t care whether or not you were going to ask but I thought you should at least know about the repercussions of your actions.”

    Mitch’s words had been playing over and over in Harry’s head over the last few days, doing nothing but feeding the guilt and sadness that had hidden itself previously. But Harry was starving, and the only thing that would satisfy him was you.

    He couldn’t believe what he had done, first he broke it off with the woman he was sure he would spend his life with, and second, not even a week later he kissed someone else. He was sick to his stomach, ill with guilt, and it was all his fault.

“Fuck fuck fuck.”

    He wanted to see your face. He needed to. But his previous idiotic behaviour had led him to carelessly remove any trace of you he had on his phone. Which is why he resorted to stalking you on social media, desperate to find evidence that you were in love because the heartbreak he felt wasn’t enough.

But there was nothing there.

    Only pictures of you on your own and other bits and bobs that you felt was necessary to show the world. It seemed like there was everything but him.

You had deleted the evidence as well it seemed.

“Shit!” He screamed and in his rage kicked the boxes of his things that came from yours. “Stupid box.” He grunted, emptying its contents and destroying anything he could lay his hands on.

As his anger subsided and the sadness returned, tears pricked his eyes blinding him, as he sobbed at the image in front of him.

Once again he was careless and stupid and selfish because in his hands was the last physical image of you and him, sitting in a bar on your first anniversary, but there was a ragged tear coincidently right down the middle, ripping you and him apart.

“No no no no no no no.” he repeated, crying loudly as he pieced the image back together This could have been the both of you now. Right in this moment, but he had decided that he had other dreams he wanted to follow.

    He found himself running desperately to Mitch who was startled at the sight of his friend. “I ripped it.” He mumbled, showing the broken picture to his friend.

    “Um, what?” Mitch questioned, confused and concerned about the state of him.

    “Look I ripped it!” Harry said more aggressively this time. “I did this, I ripped it, I broke it. And look, as if a cruel joke from the universe, it ripped right down the middle, and now they’re two separate pictures. One of me and one of her. I did this, I ripped it. I tore it apart.”

    Mitch’s mouth was hung open, as he listened to the crazy ramble. “Harry, calm down. C’mon we can fix it, I’ve got tape in the kitchen.”

    Mitch tried to reach for Harry’s arm, but he wasn’t having any of it. “No.” Harry shouted, causing Mitch’s arm to recoil in defence. “You don’t get it. I fucked it up, I lost her because I was an immature, selfish idiot like you said.”

    “Okay, I shouldn’t have called yo-” he was cut off as Harry suddenly spun around and bolted for the door, the picture leaving his hands and falling to the floor.

     “Shit, he’s gone mad.” Mitch mumbled, pulling out his phone and dialling your number.

But you never answered.

//

I hope you enjoyed this! There’s going to be a part 3 because I couldn't fit everything I wanted to put in this post so that should be coming soonish

[morganlegaye]

6 weeks.

I think the worst part of it is that before, when someone said they miscarried this early, you think... well it can’t be that bad. It’s so early. They were barely pregnant. After all, abortion pills are available up to 10 weeks and if I don’t consider that the death of a child, why am I mourning this fetus? What makes this one more special than any other? 

Maybe it isn’t special. Maybe we just got caught up in the idea of it. Of what it was going to turn into, of who it might become. It was planned, after all. Planned down to the fucking minute detail because we’re gay and these things can’t just happen. We have to travel halfway across the country for our sperm, for our known donor, just so my children might look a little like me. Actually be blood-related to me. But it’s so expensive because planning ovulation isn’t exactly something you can do too far ahead of time. We need last-minute flights and time off work and it didn’t even work the first time, you know? But it worked this time. It worked this time and it felt meant to be for other reasons I won’t get into, but trust me, it was like everything lined up.

Except I guess it didn’t.

Even when my wife was spotting pink, I didn’t think she was miscarrying. People sometimes bleed in the first trimester, and it was pink, not bright red. They’ll bleed for all sorts of reasons that don’t necessarily mean the embryo isn’t viable, so I tried not to think the worst, because I would rather be optimistic. 

That was stupid.

We had an ultrasound and we saw the sac, but we couldn’t see anything inside of it. The doctor said it could just be because it was a little early, and I held onto that. I did my stupid Google research and found out that women with tilted uteruses like my wife’s made it difficult to see anything during the first 8 weeks, and so I found another thing to hold on to. But then her HCG levels came back, and they were only 3000. They should have been upwards of 40,000, and finally there was no other way for me to spin this in my head to be optimistic. 

I didn’t have a child on the way anymore.

And it’s not like I felt like a mother, not really. I wasn’t the one carrying the child, but there was a point where I actively began to think of my life in terms of “when the baby is here” or I have to do this “because I’ll be a mom soon”. I think that’s the most like a mom I could have felt like with having my world changed for only three weeks, but it was enough. It was enough to feel like when this pregnancy ended, I lost a part of myself. 

Every morning I would get up and kiss my wife’s belly. I would ask her what the baby wanted to eat. I would look at my pregnancy apps and read the books and now all I want to do is throw them out. I uninstalled everything, got off all the mailing lists, had to figure out how to make facebook stop giving me baby ads every five fucking seconds, because the constant reminder was making it worse. I had to throw out all the positive pregnancy tests where we tracked the line progression by DPO. I had delete all the pictures and videos pertaining to the pregnancy. I had all of my wife’s upcoming appointments in my calendar, and when it would be the second trimester, the third, her due date, even the weekend we would probably do the gender reveal.

We’re not giving up, but I think the worst part of all of this is that it’s going to absolutely ruin pregnancy for us. Next time, we won’t be as excited. We won’t want to look at the apps and find out what’s new with the development with the baby. We won’t want to read anything to prepare until we’re sure we’re far enough along. We won’t want to tell anyone. I doubt we’ll do cute reveal to our parents again, because there’s no way we’ll pull off a surprise like this for a second time. I’m going to be afraid of getting attached, and refuse to love something I might lose.

I still haven’t cried. I’m not much of a cryer anyway, but I guess part of me feels like I need to be relatively okay while my wife goes through this. She’s the one that’s bleeding out the remnants of our child, after all. That’s fucking traumatic, so who cares how I feel next to that? 

I’ve gotten angry though. I know that’s not a healthy way to deal with anything, but I’m just so fucking angry. I don’t think it’s fair. We have to go through so much and spend so much money to get my wife pregnant, and there are other people out there that just are like HAHA WHOOPS. And I hate them. I fucking hate them.

I also hate that this is the only way I can express my feelings, or say what’s happening: under a cut on a social media website that most of the people who know me in real life don’t use. God forbid I make anyone uncomfortable with my sadness. God forbid we talk about the thing even though it’s apparently more common than we’d like to believe. It's just that no one talks about it. 

If you know me on another platform, mostly Facebook and Twitter, do not mention this. I’m keeping this in this little corner of the internet. 

Burying it, just like I’m supposed to, I guess. 

[paradisobound]

I Want It, I Got It: Chapter 27

Summary: Phil Lester was a worker for the BBC in London. Working in the advertising department, he was content being alongside his friend and fellow coworker PJ during every shift. However, the BBC is temporarily being used as a film set for a new movie staring Hollywood ‘It’ star, Daniel Howell. Being stuck as an extra on the set, Phil finds it’s hard to ignore the famous star. And maybe, just maybe, Dan finds it hard to ignore Phil as well.

Word Count: 3.1k (this chapter)

Warnings: Occasional swearing and sexual mentions

Rating: Explicit

Updates will be every Sunday around 1pm EST

**MASTERLIST | READ ON AO3 | WATTPAD**

Phil misses work the next few days and he doesn’t bother to tell anyone else why. Martyn tries to come and visit him but when Martyn rings his doorbell, Phil pretends he isn’t home and just lays on the couch. Spike whimpers a bit and tries to scratch at the door but because Martyn doesn’t have his key anymore to the flat, he can’t come in. 

Martyn texts him later that day and asks him where he went and Phil just said he needed to go for a breather. It was all he’s said to anyone since his last Skype call with Dan. 

He was hurt, deeply so. His heart felt shattered and his brain like mush. He wasn’t even sure if he could move past any of this. In the four short months that he’s grown to know who Dan was, nothing has felt like this. 

He’s been through break ups. He’s been through bad relationships. But no break up has hurt as bad as Dan telling him that he thinks they should take a break. What happened to Dan promising him that they wouldn’t give up on each other and he made the promise back? Did the promise fall on deaf ears? Did Dan not really mean anything that he said? 

Phil doesn’t want to believe that’s the case. 

Per Dan’s request, he hasn’t tried to get ahold of him. He also took the initiative to delete his social media apps off from his phone so that why he wouldn’t be tempted to check Dan’s Twitter or Instagram and see how he’s doing. The news has been quiet lately, not mentioning Dan’s name. And Phil guesses that he’s grateful for that. But in a selfish way, he wishes that some entertainment news site would talk about Dan so he could know what Dan was doing. 

It’s four days later when Phil decides that he needs to actually do something. He needs to get off his arse and actually start living again. He’s sat in his flat, wallowing in his own misery and barely showering. Even Spike has begun to find it a bit weird that Phil hasn’t taken him for a proper walk to the park. He can tell by Spike’s anxious prancing around the flat. 

He showers That’s morning, dresses in a pair of his black jeans and his black shirt with the word vibes on it to add a bit of color to his dark mind. He puts in contacts instead of wearing his glasses and he styles his hair. Already, just by doing that, he feels a bit better. 

But instead of going out, he sets up behind a camera and puts some lights on him and he just sits down and takes a breath. He needs to do this. Even if he never posts the video, he needs to just let everything go. 

And he’s going to. 

“Hey everyone.” He begins, voice wavering a bit. “Today, I’m making a video not as amazingphil but as Phil Lester. There is a lot I need to get off from my chest because of recent events and this is me doing so. In January of this year, I met Daniel Howell on the set of the new film he was working on. As some of you know, I work for the BBC as a graphic designer and I often am working in the offices doing advertising and posters and websites. But enough of that. I met Dan when I was told I was going to be an extra on the set of the film. I thought it was stupid. I was and at the BBC for bringing me in on what would be my day off to film as some extra in some big pretentious movie stars film. But that actually wasn’t it at all. I met Dan on the set and my life completely changed.” 

Phil took a breath and then let it out slowly as he tried to find his composure again. 

“Dan and I exchanged numbers and he asked me to do a favor for him by showing him around London. I thought really nothing of it. He was asking as if he was a friend and I’m not someone to turn down a friends request. So I went around with him in London then the paparazzi flooded us at the eye and that was when everyone saw us for the first time. At that time in our lives, we were just budding friends. We were nothing more.” 

Phil looked up his ceiling in an attempt to ground himself. He couldn’t believe he was telling all of this right now to a camera but it also felt so good to just spew all of this out when he’s had to hide it for so long. 

“Dan and I kept in contact and when he came to London a short time later, he stayed at my flat with me and I think that was when I realized he was someone I wanted to spend more time with and get to know better. So we agreed for me to come to Los Angeles to spend a week with him and I did. And it was then during that time that we solidified our relationship.” 

Phil felt his eyes prick a bit with tears as he took in a deep shuddering breath, promising to edit it out later if he ever does actually edit this video to be posted later. All he can think of is him in Dan in LA, kissing in Dan’s bed and then fucking just a short time later. Phil’s spins tingles as he thinks about what it was like to have sex with Dan for the first time and how amazing it had felt for him. How much love he had felt being poured from Dan. 

“We told each other that we were together and we wanted to be together but then the paparazzi got in our way and we couldn’t do it anymore. Our relationship was going so well but then the fucking paparazzi came out and they followed us. They followed me around London where I once lived without worry. They followed Dan around Los Angeles when he isn’t comfortable with it. And they ruined us. The ruined us because they caught an intimate moment between us at my flat and completely breached our privacy. And I know people are probably going to be like “but Phil, you’re airing everything out into the open now” and my answer to that is that I’m doing it on my own terms. Dan and I wanted to come out on our own terms and it got ripped away from us by some selfish pricks we wanted it make quick money.” 

Tears are rolling freely down Phil’s cheeks now. He reaches up and wipes them away as best he can but it looks like he just smeared them over his cheeks and not really wiped them away. 

“Dan and I are taking a break now because of what the paparazzi did. Because we need to figure out how to move on with our relationship aired out because we were ready. And no one will understand the pain that I’m feeling right now to love someone so damn much and have him be ripped away from me because of people who have no care for other people’s privacy.” 

A sob rips from his throat and he lurches forward as he buries his head into his hands and lets out all of the emotions that he has been feeling and bottling up these last few days. He’s angry. And he’s sad. And frankly, he kind of wants to be out for blood right now, yelling at people. But he’s trying to keep composure and it’s getting more and more difficult. 

When his tears dry up a bit and he lets himself settle, he takes a few deep breaths and then speaks again. 

“I don’t know if Dan will ever see this video. For all I know, this video could separate us further than we already are. But if he is, I wanted to speak to him directly and just say some things. Dan, I love you. I know I didn’t say it to you when you told me you loved me in Los Angels but I’m saying it now. I love you so much and I don’t want to lose you. I know you probably didn’t want a video like this just airing everything out but please, please understand me. I want to be able to be with you, completely and unabashedly. I want to wake up next to you again and kiss you and, sorry for being vulgar, but I want to keep making love with you. I want to be with you....I love you.” 

Phil stands up and pushes the button on the camera to stop it from recording as he lets out the rest of his sobs and wipes off his eyes with the backs of his hands. This was a stupid, stupid idea. But yet, he still found himself opening up his camera’s base and pulling out the SD card and bringing it to his laptop. 

He exports the video onto his laptop and he doesn’t even edit it. He doesn’t do anything with. He goes right to YouTube and he uploads it and titles to “The Truth”. It’s 35 minutes long with everything form his crying to his raw emotions and he doesn’t care. 

He presses public on the video and then takes a deep breath and shuts his laptop and picks up his phone. He calls PJ. 

**** 

“Was everything you said in the video the truth?” PJ asks Phil as they sit on his couch and each have a glass of some strong liquor that PJ had brought. Phil thinks it’s whiskey which he doesn’t like but it does numb his mind a bit. 

“Of course.” Phil says. “I wouldn’t lie.” 

“So you and Dan are broken up?” 

“Yes and no.” Phil says. “When Dan Skyped me the other night, he told me it wasn’t a break up and we were on a break but then he told me not to contact him and he wasn’t gong to contact me.” 

“That’s rough.” 

“Tell me about it.” 

“Is that why you haven’t been to work?” PJ asks and Phil nods. “Louise told us you went on a personal leave.” 

“I couldn’t go to work.” Phil says. “I couldn’t even get up the energy to shower or go and get food.” 

“Louise was saying that she knew it was about what happened with Dan but she isn’t happy with having you miss work over it.” 

“Doesn’t matter.” Phil says. “I’m quitting anyway.” 

PJ’s eyes widen and he looks at Phil with a confused look. “What are you talking about?” 

“I’m quitting the BBC.” 

“Why?” 

“Well,” Phil begins, resting back onto the couch. “I’ve been wanting to quit for a while and honestly, I kind of want to just like…stop working there and focus on something new. I could use something new in my life.” 

“But what are you going to do?” 

“I’m going to focus more on my YouTube channel and if life goes that way, I’ll be traveling with Dan and supporting him.” 

“But you haven’t talk to him since you uploaded the video right?” PJ asks. “How do you think he’s going to react to it?” 

Phil shrugs and takes a sip of his drink. It burns a bit when it goes down and he winces. But within a few minutes, his mind will feel clouded again and he’ll be able to feel something more than just hollow. 

“You should probably try and speak to him.” 

“I don’t know if I can yet.” Phil says. “I don’t know if I can face him yet after I just aired all of our dirty laundry into the open.” 

“But it’s not ‘dirty laundry’. It’s your real life that the tabloids were exploiting. The paparazzi deserved to be called out like you did.” 

“That doesn’t make what I do as right.” 

They sit in silence for a few moments, nothing more than just the sound of them breathing in the room and the sound of Spike gnawing on a bone in the corner of the flat. 

Suddenly, Phil’s phone vibrates loudly on the couch and he jumps, reaching for it and picking it up. On the screen, it’s a picture of Dan saying ‘Dan would like to Facetime’. Phil swallows and puts his finger up to PJ to keep him quiet and he nods in acknowledgement. 

He swipes the screen and answers and Dan is laying in his bed on the other side, his face red and puffy and his eyes very badly bloodshot. 

“Why did you make that video?” Dan asks, his voice really hoarse and his words hanging between them like a tight string. 

Phil’s heart began to beat faster as he begin to think of every possible reasoning he could tell Dan but frankly, none of them would be true. They would all be fibs. So he lets out a breath and then answers. “I wanted people to know our story.” 

“But why?” 

Dan’s voice sounds young and childlike, almost as if he’s asking a parent why he couldn’t have a sweet before his dinner. Phil swallows. 

“I wanted people to know what they did.” 

Dan breaks eye contact with the screen and looks down at his bedsheets, his fingers appear to be picking at a piece of thread. 

“I can delete the video if you want me to.” Phil says. “Although I’m not sure…” 

“Thank you for posting the video.” 

The words catch Phil off guard. He was expecting Dan to yell at him, maybe even threaten legal action for speaking out about their relationship. But those words…they were like a punch in Phil’s gut in the best way possible. 

“What?” 

“When Marianne told me that you had posted that video, I initially was really upset because I thought you were doing it to maybe spite what I had asked of us on our Skype call or to even, I don’t know, exploit our own relationship.” Dan sniffled. “Marianne barred me from watching the video but I just caved and watched it and Phil, what you said at the end, I want all of that too.” 

Phil feels his eyes prick a bit with happy tears and he looks up to see PJ’s own eyes have gone a bit glassy as well. 

“I want to wake up next to you each morning and I want to kiss you whenever I want, where I want to.” Dan let out a laugh. “And let’s be real, definitely more sex because that has been incredible.” 

PJ snickers in the background and Phil shushes him with a wave out of view. 

“But more than anything, I just want to be with you.” Dan says. “I want to be able to go in public with you and post photos with you and not feel like I had to hide. I’ve been hiding for so long and I’m sick of it.” He lets out a breath. “I just want to be with you.” 

“I love you, Dan.” It’s the first time Phil has said it to Dan directly and it feels a bit overwhelming but it also feels right at the same time. 

“I love you too.” Dan says. “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone else before.” 

Phil lets a few tears fall and Dan smiles and laughs a bit as he wipes his own tears on the other side of the screen. 

“We’re such saps.” Dan laughs and Phil laughs with him because they are. They really are but Phil doesn’t care. “I’m going to make a post on Instagram and Twitter confirming what you said in the video and I’m going to ask for our privacy. Is that okay?” 

Phil nods and smiles. “That is more than okay. I think I’m going to do that same.” 

“Okay.” Dan says. “I have to get going now because I have to get ready for Jimmy Fallon tonight, perfect timing right? But anyway, I have to start preparing but I’ll make the post and everything. I’m sure this will be a talking point on Jimmy Fallon if you want to tune in later?” 

Phil nods. It’ll be really really late for him but he needs to watch Dan on Jimmy Fallon. He has to. 

“I’ll talk to you later?” Dan asks, breaking Phil’s thoughts and Phil nods quickly. 

“Of course.” 

“Mmm. Love you.” Dan says, a smile playing on his lips again. “I like being able to say that.” 

“Me too.” Phil says. “Love you too.” 

“Bye.” 

Dan ends the video call and Phil is left staring at his own reflection in the black screen. He immediately turns to PJ who is half pouring a new glass of whiskey and half wiping a few tears from his cheeks. 

“Can you please stay with me to watch Jimmy Fallon tonight?” Phil pleads. 

PJ looks at Phil and nods quickly. “Of course but I have work in the morning and you do too.” 

Phil shakes his head and lets out a sigh. “Forget work tomorrow. Just…please be with me to watch Dan on there. Please?” 

PJ nods and lets out a soft smile. “I’ll call Soph and have her bring us some snacks.” 

“I should probably call my brother and my mum.” Phil says, speaking out loud. 

PJ nods and Phil let’s out a long sigh and picks up his phone again. He remembers how he told Dan that he’ll write a note on Instagram and Twitter so he opens his notes app and just types. 

“As you all know I posted the video today about Dan and I’s relationship. Although that was all private information, Dan and I have since spoken and neither one of us believe the video did any harm. We’re asking for everyone to respect our privacy during this time as we rebuild our relationship. Thank you all, Phil.” 

Just as Phil posts his note, Dan’s note comes onto his timeline and he reads it. 

“Earlier today, Phil posted a video regarding mine and his relationship these last few months. Although all of what he said is 100% accurate, we’re asking you all to respect us during this time and keep our privacy as just that. I will still be on Jimmy Fallon tonight but I would like to remind everyone to keep us in your thoughts and to please leave us to settle what we need to in private. Thank you.” 

Phil smiles at bit at the note and then goes to the contacts in his phone and presses his mum’s name for the first time in over a week. 

[nikkyschoolblog-blog]

PUT YOUR PHONE DOWN (yes that’s the title)

We are surrounded by it. Is there ever a time when you don’t have your phone in your pocket? Everywhere we look it is Instagram this and facebook that. Oh you only got 100 likes? Guess your picture is not good enough to be showcased to the world. How many times a day do you think you look at your phone? How about a computer or any type of a screen? Every day we are constantly reminded that we are choosing to compare ourselves to the people around us. Social media of all sorts fills our heads with unrealistic expectations of reality. How do you contribute to society? American culture has evolved tremendously over the past few decades mostly due to the media and technology. My development as a young adult has also been heavily impacted by the media and it has transformed me into the savage queen I am today.

Can you even think about a time when people were not so readily available on social media? It boggles my mind to think that in the 80s when my parents were alive that they could not just call their friends on their personal cell phones. I remember growing up when I was taught to call up my friend on the home phone and say “Hello sir this is Nicole Bernier calling I was wondering if Naomi was available to have a play date?” And then I would wait patiently for Naomis Dad to go ask her if she wanted to bike over to my house. Nowadays kids don’t even talk to each other! The children I coach already have their own instagram accounts and get 3 times the amount of likes I do. I cant imagine being so young in a world of technology trying to figure out how they want to be viewed by society. Even as a young adult, I continue to waste my time stressing about how I want others to view me. We get here to college and expect that everyone has got their life path figured out when most of us have absolutely no clue what we are doing and spend more time on Snapchat than we do writing an essay.

When you turn on the radio there is a large chance that it will be some rapper singing about drugs, money or chicks. It’s tasteless how famous people want to present themselves by trying to promote bad behaviors. But oh no everyone loves Ariana Grande and Drake and how “lavish” their lifestyle is. How Nicki Minajs butt implants and Kylie Jenners lip injections are the new craze. Statistics have shown that the younger generations are more insecure due to the conveniency of social media and how the celebrities choose to promote themselves. The media can have a negative impact on certain people especially children because they often compare themselves with these unrealistic standards we are constantly surrounded with.

As an avid 50s music listener, I truly find it interesting how the lyrics of most of the songs are about love and romance or true heartbreak. It’s pretty rad how that is an artifact in itself and its so readily available to us all the time. It also shows how the music culture has changed over the years. Most kids I’ve met think my music taste is weird or what “my grandma listens to” but honestly in a world of people listening to the same genre, I like to be unique. I think everyone should give a good listen to some Dion and the Heartbreaks or Frank Sinatra and at least give it a chance.

So just a couple of months ago I had to go on a cleanse. Not a juice cleanse or a bath full of Lysol, no I mean I had to delete all social media off my phone because it was making me unhappy. Surprisingly (or unsurprisingly) the people I surround myself with told me that it also made them feel insecure and that they would be better off without it. This sparked my interest and I did a poll on instagram seeing how many people disliked social media and the results had me shook. More than half of my followers that answered said that they hated it. Why do we keep these apps on our phone if our happiness is not benefited by using them? I chose to be happy and after I deleted my instagram facebook and Snapchat I felt 1000% more productive.

Unfortunately I caved in after 2 months and redownloaded them because there was no way I was going to Europe and not showing the world pictures of how delightful my vacation was. I posted a whole bunch of fabulous pictures but in reality I was sick nearly the entire time so I couldn’t enjoy myself to the fullest extent. I posed and pretended I wasn’t hacking up a lung and I was thrilled to see that people “liked” my vacation more than I did.

Don’t get me wrong I’m the queen of taking pictures to the point where my mom is like “Nicole I am not going to be your photographer. Put your phone away.” I have to catch myself sometimes and remember that I am not living to please random people on social media. I am living for the experiences, for the laughs and the genuine connections.

Pictures were made to capture a moment but why force happiness to present a life you are not living? It’s almost like propaganda in a way because were only showing one side of how we live. Hey if you’re as happy as every single post on your insta then go you that’s awesome but most people can agree that life is not always just the happy moments. That’s the thing. Most people use these platforms to only show the attractive parts of their lives. It’s all just a game of comparison and perception. But who’s life really is the best? Are you genuinely happy in that picture you take on the beach with your butt hanging out of your bikini and Gucci handbag just so convenient placed in the frame of the picture?

When I think of media and pop culture I think of how my goal as a child was to literally become Sandy from Grease when she was all decked out in her red lipstick, leather pants and a cigarette hanging out of her mouth. I though she was the coolest person ever. I watched that movie on REPEAT because it was the only PG13 movie my mom allowed me to watch on my DVD player. Within a few years I was that kid who started smoking as a teen because I thought it looked “cool”. Now I’m stuck with a nasty habit that everyone thinks is gross because the media evolved to somehow make smoking cigarettes uncool but vaping apparently pretty dang cool. Guess I’m just a few years late.

When you’re young you need some kind of an idol or a person to admire. When I was a preteen I listened to Eminem and really resonated with his lyrics. His anger lit a fire within me and I became more and more defiant the longer I listened to him. I chose to be influenced by his freedom of speech and it gave me confidence to deliberately act upon my impulsive behavior. Parents hated Eminem because he got fame for promoting violence and presented himself in a negative way. I related to the fact that he was misunderstood yet also didn’t care about how people viewed him. As much as I want to forget 2008 me I will always remember how the music I listened to impacted my life and decisions at the time.

Speaking of 2008, I remember having a flip phone and trying to hold it still for about 4 seconds to make sure the pixelated picture did not come out too blurry. Now we have 12 year olds editing their face and their body on photoshop because that’s what the instagram models do. They wont ever understand how hard it was to type the s on the flip phones with no alphabet keypad. I was out here responding to texts hours late with one word answers and now here I am texting paragraphs like its none of my business.

Technology and the media is constantly evolving and shaping our culture into what it is today. It is changing so rapidly by incorporating technology into every little task and as much as I hate it I know that it plays an important role in who I am as an individual and how I choose to be viewed by others. People like to communicate with each other and that is why social media exists but there is a fine line between using it for practical purposes and allowing it control your life. To this day I struggle with using my phone as a tool rather than a time suck. Maybe Ill just pack my bags, and venture out into the wilderness to escape this crazy tech era. Hopefully they’ll have an outlet for my iPhone charger though.