#sorry but tomorrow is another thursday evening i will be reflecting | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chaeryybomb · 3 years ago

Text

BRUTAL

pairings: female reader x best friend!jungwon

summary: they told you that these were the golden years, but to you "golden" was a rusting metal spray painted yellow. the story of a seventeen year old trying to survive high school when all you do is try your best. but your best friend jungwon makes it worth the while.

genre: high school au, friends to lovers, fluff, tiny bits of angst if you squint, attempt at humour

featuring: jang wonyoung, kim sunoo & nishimura riki

word count: 4.5k

warnings: reader having a existential crisis most of the time, strong language, mentions of insecurity

the sour series masterlist

You slumped forward the moment the bell rang, letting your head hit the table. You could care less if a bruise would form on your forehead, you had much bigger things to worry about. Your teacher left the class wordlessly as the class was busy doing their own thing. And by that, everyone was buried nose deep in studying. You lifted your head to see the different books of the same topic scattered on your desk, a yellow highlighter balancing on the edge of your table.

Reaching over to grab the highlighter, you turned your head over to the side to look at your desk mate. Wonyoung sat there looking straight out from a k-drama, with her hair flowing down her back perfectly and her slender nimble fingers moving as she continuously wrote in her notebook. She was smart too, fluent in English and Korean, great at maths and science. And on top of that she was kind and friendly, everyone loved her. You did too, you had the honour of calling her your best friend. But sometimes you felt insecure around her, everything she did looked flawless and there you were just trying your best.

"Ack!" You yelped as you sat up straight, holding your forehead. Wonyoung rolled her eyes at you with a small smile on her lips, she had flicked your forehead to get you out of your thoughts.

Without taking her eyes off the textbook, she tapped your own workbook with her pen. Silently telling you to stop procrastinating. You pouted at her and looked at the clock, 10 minutes before lunch. Maybe a walk to the girl's bathroom would do you some good.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom," you whispered to Wonyoung. She nodded and smiled at you before you walked out.

As you strolled towards the girl's bathroom, you passed by the bulletin board outside your class. A bright blue poster stood out with the words "ENJOY YOUR YOUTH" in white. Scoffing at the message, you continued on your way.

"I'm seventeen now, where's my fucking teenage dream?" You muttered to yourself. You were tired of waiting for your life to end up like a coming of age movie. Everyone told you that these were the golden years and you should enjoy your youth, but you swear to god if you hear another one of those cheesy sayings, you might just cry on the spot.

Reaching over to open the stall door, you halt in your actions when you heard familiar voices talking.

"I'm so worried for finals, my parents are gonna kill me if I fail English again," a girl complained. You hear the sound of tap water running. "How are you so calm during this time, Mirae?'

"What's the use of studying hard anyways," the second girl, Mirae, said. "We all know the top spots are gonna be taken by Jang Wonyoung and Yang Jungwon, I just study enough to pass."

The other girl snorted at her reply. "Imagine if those two got together, the power couple of the year," she suddenly said.

"Poor Y/N then, she's gonna be over shadowed by them."

"As if she already isn't. I almost forgot they were a trio until you mentioned Y/N," the girl laughed.

"What can I say? They're out of her league," Mirae joined in with her laughter.

The two voices faded away as you heard the door closed. Finally pushing the door open, you looked at your reflection. Your eyebrows knitted in annoyance and your face was morphed in a scowl. You washed your hands aggressively and poked the inside of your cheek. What bugged you was that they were right. You were the black sheep between Wonyoung and Jungwon. Both of them were smart and amazing, and you're just…you.

You love your best friends, you truly do. But you were constantly compared to them and you hated it. Everyone wanted them, you watched as guys tripped over to confess to Wonyoung and girls squealing when Jungwon smiled at them. The two of them always reassured you that you weren't beneath them but you were sick of their sympathy. You're so caught up in the news of who likes you and who hates them. You just wished people liked you more.

Storming out of the bathroom, someone accidentally ran into you and caused you to fell onto your butt. The student immediately stood up and scurried off, not bothering to even a mutter an apology. All I did was try my best and this is the thanks I get, you thought bitterly.

They said that these were the golden years, but you wished you could just disappear. God, it's brutal out here.

"Y/N, wait up!" Jungwon called after you.

You stopped in your tracks as you watched Jungwon waved goodbye to some students before jogging towards you.

"You heading to cram school today?" He asked you as the both of you fell into the same walking rhythm.

You shook your head, clasping your hands behind. "I moved it to Thursday instead, Wonyoung said I had to many things on Tuesday," you told him. Originally, you would be heading to the library to study before heading over to the cram school. But Wonyoung took one look at your schedule and decided that you did not had enough breaks, so she managed to convince you to take the Thursday slot instead. Thursdays are one of the days where you would not go to the library.

Jungwon seemed to be disappointed to find out that you had switched slots. Maybe he should changed slots too, but does he have any empty spots open for Thursday though? He'd have to check later. Instead, he coughed and stuffed his hands into his pockets.

"Do you wanna come over later? The new Demon Slayer movie is out," he offered, hoping that you'd accept.

Unfortunately, you once again shook your head. "Sorry Jungwon, I'd want to cram even more later. Finals are really creeping in and I can't afford to waste any time," you told him with a sad smile. As much as you would like to ditch the books and watch Demon Slayer, the glaring C on your last history paper was telling you otherwise.

You stopped walking when you had reached your doorstep. "Thanks for walking me home, Jungwon. See you tomorrow!" and with that you disappeared behind the door.

Jungwon waved goodbye as he watched the door closed. The smile on his face dropped and his shoulder sagged. Jungwon you idiot, of course she would want to study, he scolded himself. With disappointment on his face, he trudged home with a heavy heart.

"Change of plans, guys," he announced as he swung the front door open, unfazed by the fact that Riki and Sunoo were lounging on his coach. He accepted the fact that Sunoo had somehow gotten the keys to his house (suspecting that his mother probably gave it to him due to favouritism or maybe Riki had sneakily made a copy).

Riki's head poked out from the couch. "She rejected you, didn't she," the younger boy said with a smirk.

Jungwon's face ears turned red as he glared at the boy. "No she did not!" He immediately told him. "She rejected the offer to watch the movie, that's different!"

"That's basically rejection, hyung," Riki laughed.

The other boy just glared at him. "Shut up!" he sputtered out before hiking up the stairs.

Sunoo gave Riki a look, to which the Japanese boy just shrugged his shoulders innocently.

Jungwon walked out from the shower, a towel around his neck with one hand running through his damp hair. Sunoo and Riki had left earlier, finally giving him some peace and quiet. His phone screen was flashing from his study table, initiating that someone was spamming him (quite aggressively) with text message. With a raised eyebrow, he picked up his phone

[7:09 pm] wonyoung: JUNGWON

[7:10 pm] wonyoung: WHY DID Y/N JUST MESSAGED ME ABOUT HOMEWORK

[7:10 pm] wonyoung: ISNT SHE WITH YOU

[7:11 pm] wonyoung: I THOUGHT YOU SAID U WERE GONNA WATCH A MOVIE

[7:11 pm] wonyoung: DEMON HUNTER OR SMTG

[7:12 pm] wonyoung: WHY IS SHE ASKING ME FOR HW

[7:12 pm] wonyoung: DID U CHICKEN OUT???

[7:13 pm] wonyoung: omg u chickened out didnt u

[7:14 pm] jungwon: jfc wonyoung

[7:15 pm] jungwon: and no i did not chicken out okay

[7:15 pm] jungwon: she declined

[7:16 pm] jungwon: she said she had to study ;-;

[7:17 pm] wonyoung: omg u suck

[7:17 pm] wonyoung: i told u the movie idea was dumb

[7:18 pm] wonyoung: but do u ever listen to me

[7:18 pm] wonyoung: no

[7:19 pm] wonyoung: and now u suffer the consequences

[7:20 pm] jungwon: yea yea i get it im dumb

[7:20 pm] jungwon: now what's ur solution the great jang wonyoung

[7:21 pm] wonyoung: i am so glad u asked :)

[7:21 pm] jungwon: oh no

[7:21 pm] wonyoung: stfu im giving u a better idea

[7:22 pm] wonyoung: a n y w a y s

[7:22 pm] wonyoung: my ynradar is going off and she's s a d

[7:23 pm] jungwon: how would u know

[7:23 pm] jungwon: she seemed fine today

[7:23 pm] wonyoung: stfu jungwon its best friend things u wont understand

[7:24 pm] jungwon: i-

[7:25 pm] wonyoung: and as her future bf u SHOULD start to train ur ynradar

[7:25 pm] wonyoung: anw its exam season stoopid

[7:26 pm] wonyoung: and its when those kids start to talk abt how the both of us are gonna get top scores

[7:26 pm] wonyoung: and they talk down on y/n while doing so

[7:26 pm] wonyoung: assholes

[7:27 pm] wonyoung: so i propose to u

[7:27 pm] wonyoung: a ✨ study date ✨

[7:28 pm] jungwon: i

[7:29 pm] jungwon: that's

[7:29 pm] jungwon: actually not a bad idea

[7:30 pm] wonyoung: obv i came up with it

[7:31 pm] jungwon: can u not

[7:31 pm] wonyoung: anw a study date

[7:32 pm] wonyoung: she's struggling in maths

[7:33 pm] wonyoung: specifically taxes because she said and i quote

[7:34 pm] wonyoung: "why do we have to do taxes when we pay people to do it for us"

[7:34 pm] wonyoung: so pls help her and try to cheer her up

[7:35 pm] wonyoung: and confess coward

[7:36 pm] jungwon: i make no promises for the last one

[7:36 pm] wonyoung: aFTER EVERYTHING I JUST SAID

[7:37 pm] jungwon: what if she rejects me wonyoung

[7:38 pm] wonyoung: WE'VE HAD THIS CONVERSATION A LOT OF TIMES JUNGWON

[7:38 pm] wonyoung: SHE LIKES U BUT SHES TOO DUMB TO REALISE

[7:39 pm] jungwon: sigh

[7:40 pm] jungwon: fine i'll try thanks wonyoung

[7:41 pm] wonyoung: np i expect y'all to be a couple by next monday <3

[7:41 pm] jungwon: i-

Sighing for the nth time of the night, Jungwon sat on his bed. He allowed the towel to slipped off his shoulders as his thumb hovered over your chat icon. Truth be told, he always thought his crush on you was unrequited love. You never showed any signs of returning of feelings so he thought he would just ignore the feeling until it was gone.

But oh boy was he wrong, because he didn't knew that he would be spending his high school years by your side. And now you occupy his mind 24/7. Wonyoung could literally tell that he was in love with you, but somehow you never caught on. He allowed Sunoo and Riki to convince him to do the whole "movie date idea", but that failed. So Wonyoung's suggestion was his only option left.

He typed out the message, ready to send it out. If only he could just press the button. Come on Yang Jungwon, you can do this. Just press the damn button Jungwon. Suddenly his phone pinged loudly, scaring the lights out of the poor boy as he yelped and his phone landed with a thud on the ground. He peered over his bed, as if his phone was a ticking bomb.

Oh, it was a message from you.

[8:01 pm] y/n: hey do u know where wonyoung is

[8:01 pm] y/n: she isn't answering my texts

Oh no. He realised that your chat was open, the two ticks indicated that he had (unintentionally) read the message. He couldn't just leave you on read. That's just evil. Scrambling to get his phone, he immediately typed a reply to cover for the other girl.

[8:02 pm] jungwon: sorry i don't :/

[8:02 pm] jungwon: what do u need her for

[8:03 pm] y/n: mf was supposed to teach me a maths question but she left me on rEAD

This was his chance! It was the perfect opportunity for him to score a date with you. Okay, breathe in breath out Jungwon. Don't mess it up and just ask her, he mentally prepared himself.

[8:04 pm] jungwon: oh i could help you if you want

[8:04 pm] jungwon: yk with finals coming up and everything, i can help you study

[8:05 pm] jungwon: if you want of course

[8:05 pm] y/n: omg srsly??

[8:06 pm] jungwon: pls help me study my braincells are literally dying

[8:07 pm] jungwon: jdsjkda okay how about this saturday at your place?

[8:08 pm] y/n: yeah sure

[8:08 pm] jungwon: cool its a date then!

You blinked at Jungwon's message. A date? Wait, did Yang Jungwon just indirectly asked you out? Nah, nah. You were overthinking it. Yes, definitely overthinking. Don't kid yourself, why would Jungwon ask you out on a date? Jungwon is just a friend, you tried to convince yourself.

Keyword: tried.

If he really was just a friend, then why did it felt like butterflies were in your stomach when he said "it was a date"? Then why did you frowned when those girls said that Wonyoung and Jungwon would make a good couple?

Oh god, do you have feelings for your best friend?

Saturday came faster than you would have liked it to. Ever since that last chat with Jungwon, it gave you the sudden realisation that you did in fact had feelings for your best friend. You tried so hard to avoid him in school because you don't want the butterflies back in your stomach. It was basically confirming the fact that you like him. Well, avoiding him also confirmed the fact but you choose to be in denial about it.

You didn't tell Wonyoung about your study date but lately she's been sending you outfit ideas on Pinterest. Specifically, date outftis. And whenever you tried to ask her a question about school, she brushed you off with a random excuse. So it left you no choice but to save those questions for Jungwon.

Speaking of Jungwon, he had texted you 10 minutes ago that he was on the way. You were standing in the middle of your room with your hands on your hips. Both of your parents were out for the day, which left you alone at home. You had taken out the low table to be used later and it was currently in front of you. Colourful workbooks were neatly stacked on top of it.

You did a 360 turn around your room. Was it messy? You cleaned it this morning when you woke up. Did you had any clothes out? No, doesn't look like it. For some reason, you were a nervous wreck. You blamed Jungwon. He just had to call this a date, didn't he.

Should you change? Maybe you should finally look through all those pins Wonyoung sent. Wait, no, why would you have to change into something nice. Jungwon was here to help you study, just that.

Yeah, a study date, your mind emphasised on the word.

The sound of the doorbell pulled you out from your thoughts. You immediately went to open the door. Yang Jungwon stood there on the other side, with his signature smile. Had he always resembled a sheep? He just looked so fluffy.

"Hey!" You greeted him with a smile, internally wincing at your way-too-enthusiastic voice.

But Jungwon didn't seem to mind it. "Hey!" he greeted back.

You moved to the side to let him in. "Thank you for having me," he said as he bowed then proceeded to remove his shoes.

"Uh, do you want anything? Water?" You asked him.

He shook his head.

"Ah, cool. Let's head to my room," you started to walk back to your room.

"Where are your parents?" He asked.

"Out," you simply replied.

That was when it dawned upon you, that your parents were not home. Leaving you and Jungwon, alone. Together. In your room. Alone. With the boy you potentially have a crush on.

"Y/N?" Jungwon tapped on your shoulder. You had stopped walking when you were suddenly washed over by your thoughts. Snapping out of it, you sent him a small smile before opening the room to your door.

The both of you shuffled into your bedroom, you sat down in front of the low table while Jungwon settled down next to you. He moved to take out his books then turned to you. "How about we do some studying and if you have any questions, you can ask me okay?" He said.

You nodded and flipped your own workbook open, immediately starting to work on the first question. Jungwon copied your action and a comfortable silence engulfed the both of you. As the time passed, you found yourself stuck on a certain maths question.

You slightly turned your head to the side to look at Jungwon. He was concentrated at doing his work, you felt a sense of deja vu while looking at him. He resembled Wonyoung when she was studying. At the thought of Wonyoung, you suddenly thought of what those girls said at the bathroom.

They would make a good couple, wouldn't they, you thought. The power couple of the year.

The butterflies in your stomach faded away into an uncomfortable feeling. Just the idea of them getting together already made you sick. You bit the inside of your cheek, you really did had feelings for him. And now it scared you because what if he doesn't feel the same. You made a mental note to consult with Wonyoung later, at least you hope that you'll allow yourself to tell her.

Jungwon must've noticed you staring and gently tapped your head with his pencil. A contrast to when Wonyoung painfully flicked your forehead.

"What's wrong? Are you stuck on a question?" He asked.

You leaned back a bit at the sudden action. You were so deep in your insecurities that you had totally forgotten about the literal problem sitting in front of you. Yet you couldn't even bother to ask him so you just shook your head. "I'm gonna get something to drink," you said instead.

Jungwon watched as you stood up, then decided to follow you as well. "I'll come along."

The boy joined you in the kitchen, perched on one of the island stools as you grabbed a can of soda from the fridge. He studied your movement as you worked around the kitchen. Your features were neutral, you weren't smiling nor frowning. But he could tell that your shoulders were tensed. Wonyoung was right, you did seem down. And he cursed himself for not noticing earlier.

"You okay?" His question made you stopped in a mid-pour stance, the can of soda was tilted but not enough for the contents to be poured out.

You brushed his question off and poured the drink into the cup. "Yeah," you hummed.

Unconvinced by your answer, he pried more. "You know you shouldn't care about what they say, right?"

You furrowed your eyebrows at him, pretending like you didn't understand where he was coming from.

"You're not below us, you know that right?"

You couldn't help but scoffed at his words. Jungwon's lips tugged downwards "I'm being serious here, Y/N," his tone was stern. "You shouldn't listen to what they say. You're more than just-"

The sound of the can being slammed down shuts him up. Your fingers tightened around the can as you looked at him. You didn't had the energy to hear him preach the same old "Don't Listen To Them" speech. You don't need his pity.

"I don't want to hear it, Yang Jungwon," you said through gritted teeth. Not sparing him another glance, you threw the empty can into the trash as you grabbed your glass.

As you walked past Jungwon, he suddenly reached out and held onto your forearm. "Y/N," he said softly. "Please tell me what's wrong."

You sighed and slowly turn around to face him, placing the glass back on the counter. You took in a deep breath before you opened your mouth. "I feel like I'm not enough," you finally said. "Everything I do just doesn't seem enough. All I'm doing is my best but it's just crushing my ego because everyone is telling me that you're better than me."

"I feel like no one wants me and I hate the way I'm perceived. It's always poor Y/N this and poor Y/N that's because everyone just sees me as your shadow and I fucking hate it. I only have two real friends," you gestured wildly. "And lately I'm a nervous wreck cause I keep comparing myself to the two of you. I'm not cool and I'm not smart, and I can't even parallel park!" You threw your hands up in frustration, the feelings you kept inside were pouring out like a waterfall.

Jungwon just stood there as he listened tentatively to every word. He didn't knew that you felt this way, bottling up all your emotions like that.

"And I'm so tired of people telling me to enjoy my youth and that these are the golden years. I might just fucking cry if I hear those words again," you finished ranting. It felt good, it felt like a weight on your heart has been lifted. Then you remembered that you just dumped all of it on Jungwon.

You opened your mouth to apologise to him but he surprised you by pulling him into his arms. At first you were standing stiffly at the sudden contact, but it took a millisecond for you to melt in his embrace. His arms were gently around your back and you returned the hug by wrapping your arms around his torso. The two of you stay in that position for awhile, relishing in each other's embrace. You definitely needed this hug.

Tightening your hold on Jungwon, you realised how important he was to you. He was your best friend and he was always there for you. It was stupid of you to compare yourself to him, when all he did was tried his best for you. The taller boy chuckled when he felt you rubbed your face into his shoulder, he involuntarily released a contented sigh. You felt one of his hands stroked your hair, it felt comforting. That action itself was enough for the butterflies to slowly settled back in you.

After a while, both of you finally (unwillingly) released each other. He pushed a strand of hair behind your ears and said, "You're wrong by the way." Which made you tilt your head in genuine confusion.

"You are cool and you are smart. You're like the coolest person I know. And no one thinks of you as our shadow, you don't hear it but I've always hear the juniors praising you for helping them and how enthusiastic you are," the way he delivered his words was filled with pure awe for you.

"And who cares if you can't parallel park. You didn't hear it from but Jay hyung failed his drivers test three times just because he couldn't parallel park," and that got a laugh out from you. Jungwon smiled proudly that he managed to make you laugh. "And you're wrong when you said no one wants you. I want you."

You blinked once, twice and thrice. He wanted you? "You're just saying that cause you're my best friend," you replied.

"No," he firmly said. "I like you, Y/N."

(Jungwon doesn't know where he got this sudden surge of confidence, but the mood was the perfect time for him to confess. It was a one time chance and he had to take it.)

You chuckled. "I like you too, Jungwon. We are friends aren't we?"

"No, Y/N. I like you. More than friends."

"Oh." Oh.

"Yeah," he scratched the back of neck awkwardly. Oh no, did you not feel the same way?

While you on the other hand, were malfunctioning on the inside. Your best friend just confessed to you and you were frozen on the spot. Why couldn't he had done it over text instead. If he had done it over text, then you could've left the message unread and you could've spammed Wonyoung for help. But the thing is that it wasn't over text and you couldn't just tell him to wait here while you panicked to Wonyoung in your bathroom.

Yang Jungwon likes you. And you like him too, right? Because if you didn't, your cheeks won't be heating up right now and your heart would have not be beating rapidly like it was going to break your rib cage any second. If you didn't like him, there would have never been butterflies in your stomach. Yeah. You like Yang Jungwon, you like him a lot.

"Me too," you whispered, it was soft but it was enough for him to pick it up. Jungwon eyes snapped to you, doe eyed filled with hope. "I like you, too," you said, this time louder. And you made sure you looked him in the eye when you confessed.

You watched as Jungwon's mouth morphed into a big grin. He let out a sigh of relief and dropped to his knees, surprising you. "Jungwon!" you squeaked, bending down to help him.

"I'm fine! I'm fine," he assured you as he stood up with your help. The grin on his face was still there. "It's just that … you like me," he breathed out. "You like me back, wow. I-I can't believe it."

Your face was definitely burning with embarrassment. You punched him lightly on the shoulder, turning away to hide your face. "Believe it, you dork. I like you, okay!" Somehow his grin was able to grew wider at your words, Gently, he took your hand in his.

"How about we stop this study date, and I'll take you out on real date?"

a/n: thank you so much for reading this <3

#enhypen #yang jungwon #jungwon #enhypen imagines #yang jungwon imagines #jungwon imagines #enhypen x reader #yang jungwon x reader #jungwon x reader #kim sunoo #nishimura riki #enhypen scenarios #yang jungwon scenarios #jungwon scenarios #jungwon fluff #enhypen fluff #yang jungwon fluff #chaeryybomb; the sour series

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mackeydoodledoo · 4 years ago

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I Only Swim Free: Chapter 1

Pairing: Bela Dimitrescu x (Fem!)Reader

Summary: You’ve done swimming all your life. You’ve gotten to your dream college on a scholarship for your outstanding freestyle technique back in high school. Relationships never crossed your mind however, that was before you met your swim team captain: Bela Dimitrescu.

Warning: Awkwardness, fluff; not really warnings but might as well leave them here

A/N: Another original idea from @su-lilly-reblogs because I’m running out of ideas to make stories for our lovely women. Also, this is a series! Originally this was going to be a one-story thing however, I was moving for this to be a series! So, Enjoy!

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You step out into the floor, all eyes become glued onto you. Although you’ve felt confident in the beginning when you got your acceptance letter and scholarship to attend your dream college and get accepted into the 5-time state champion swim team. What you didn’t expect was your captain.

“Y/n Y/l/n,” she smiles, “Bela Dimitrescu, captain of the Dimitrescu University Swim Team. They told me that we’re getting a rookie. I’m impressed you got a scholarship too.”

“Well, great to be here,” You lightly chuckle, trying to not gawk too much

“Bela you should have her do initiation,” one of the team members says

All of the other current members began agreeing to the idea as well.

Your heart dropped.

Initiation? Why haven’t I heard about this one? Is it one of those kinds where it’ll just catch you off guard?

“Oh don’t worry little dolphin,” Bela smiles, taking notice of your change in expression

“It’s just where you show off your swimming skills,” another one of the members call out, “Nothing to worry about! If you got a scholarship for this, then you must be one of the best swimmers back in high school!”

Oh, well that helps a lot.. But in front of all of these really experienced college-level swimmers? Especially in front of the captain? Gah... Guess I have no choice... Plus, I wasn’t one of the best swimmers in high school.

You place your swim bag onto the bench closest to you, however, reaching into it to grab your swim cap and goggles. You put your swim cap on and begin walking toward one of the stands to leap off of to initiate your swimming style.

“So, what’s your swimming style?” another member asks you

“I only swim free,” You say, monotonous, getting up onto the stand.

I’ve never heard of one of my girls saying she only swims free... She’s already impressive.

Bela smiles slightly.

“Just do three laps y/n, ready,” Bela announces

Bela watches you lift your butt toward her. Bela begins blushing.

Girl’s ripped... God what am I thinking?!

A beep sound goes off and you launch yourself into the water. With ease, your form dives into the water with no resistance. One stroke after the other, Bela watches in awe as your muscles flex each time you lift them above the water. The girls watched you in amazement as to how fast you were able to move in the water, despite how the water would often move against your body whilst swimming.

Impress them y/n. You’re almost there...

You could feel your lungs beginning to burn as you were halfway back around the third lap.

Go beyond your limit y/n....

Your palm plants itself along the wall of where you launched yourself. You take in a deep breath as you almost ran out on the last stretch. You remove your goggles from your eyes and look up; Bela holding out her hand towards you. You grab onto it as she helps you out of the pool.

“That was insane y/n, how’d you do it?” One of the team members asks

“I’ve swam all my life,” You say, chuckling, “Also, my family helped me build muscle for it.”

You look around and your eyes land on Bela, coincidentally hers land on you as well. She gives you a wink before she begins walking away, approaching whom you believed was the coach. You think nothing of it before you’re dragged back further into the pool area by everyone else. You just answer as many questions as you can.

“I also swim freestyle but I don’t think I’d ever be able to swim that fast,” One member states

“Well, I’m not sure how much I can tell you, because it’s also in your willpower to tell yourself to keep going,” You add

“Okay okay give our rookie some air,” the coach comes along, “I’m coach Donna Beneviento. I welcome you to the Dimitrescu University Swim Team. Practice begins tomorrow at 6pm sharp. We practice every Monday and Thursday, same time.”

After practice, your new teammates had made their leave to deal with the academic aspect of college. You step out of the changing room in front of the shower in some shorts and a sports bra. However, right from across you Bela steps out of the shower as well; only wrapped in a towel. You feel your cheeks heat up before the both of you had to forcefully look away from each other. However, you couldn’t help but catch one more glance. You didn’t want to help it at all though.

“S-sorry Captain,” You say, walking yourself over to the mirrors

"Bela,” she says, “It’s after practice. You may call me Bela after practice.”

“You sure?” you ask, scuffing your hair to look slightly messy

From the mirror’s reflection, you, again couldn’t help but look up to admire Bela’s figure however, you didn’t realize that she had let her towel fall to her ankles. So you were basically seeing her bare naked.

“Oh my god!” You yell, startling Bela

“What?!” She asks, turning to look at you through the mirror

“I’m sorry,” You clear your throat, trying to not make eye contact with her, “I thought I saw something on the mirror.”

You try your best to hide your deep red cheeks from Bela’s view.

“Have you never seen a naked woman?” She asks, finally slipping on some of her clothing

“Not-not really,” You stutter

“Hope that was a good show for you,” Bela teases

Oh shit... She knew I looked at her naked arse didn’t she?...

“Shit,” Bela growls

“What’s the matter?” You ask her, turning to her, finally getting the oxygen you needed to breathe when you noticed her having clothing on

“I thought I packed a hoodie,” She sighs

Your hand immediately dives into your duffle bag and you managed to pull out a hoodie from it.

“See if this’ll fit,” You say, “If it fits, it’s yours.”

You watch her take your band hoodie and put it over her. It was slightly bigger on her however you couldn’t help but crack a smile.

“What?” Bela smiles, hoisting her backpack over her shoulder

“N-nothing,” You clear your throat once more, “You look good in it is all.”

“You think so?” Bela asks, blushing

“For sure,” You smile

The both of you exit the locker room and begin making your way out to the parking lot.

“Hey, can I ask you a weird question?” Bela asks

“Sure,” You say

“How did you get so ripped?” She asks

“Oh- I- uhhh...” You begin

Bela giggles at your response to her compliment.

“I- perks of having your family own a gym,” You say, “They practically trained me since wanting to do swimming. If you want to work out with me sometime, I could pull some strings and get you to be a guest with my membership. If that’s something you’d be interested in.”

“I’d like that sometime y/n,” Bela smiles

“By the way, would you wat to- I don’t know- maybe-”

Before you could finish your question, a car pulls up in front of the both of you. You watch the window roll down and see a male in the driver’s seat.

“Hey babe,” He says, smiling, “Who’s the kid?”

“She’s the newest member to our swim team,” She says, getting into the passenger seat, “Hey, I’ll see you tomorrow after classes y/n.”

Your heart sank as you watched the car drive off... After all of that flirting with her in the locker room...

If she has a boyfriend.... Then what the absolute hell was that in the locker room?

However, you don’t linger on it as you get into your own vehicle. Although you had just gotten out of a long practice day, you hook up your music to your car’s radio and input directions to where your family runs the gym you had mentioned to Bela. Surprisingly, the gym your family runs is 10 minutes out of the campus.

“Hey kiddo,” Your dad says as he watches you enter the gym, “How was your first day of practice?”

“Oh, it was great,” You exaggerate, “Everyone was kind of impressed with my swimming technique. I guess those training sessions with you are beginning to pay off pops.”

“See,” He says, smiling, “Are you going to be home for dinner tonight?”

“No, I gotta head back to my apartment after this one,” You reply, “I want to get ready for my first day of classes tomorrow.”

You had managed to find an apartment close to campus that was affordable. you weren’t about to find a roommate and live in a building with shitty water supply.

“Fair enough,” He says, “Well, help yourself kiddo. Gym’s nearly empty today.”

He was right; at most there was five people in the entirety of the gym. Normally, it would nearly be packed. You just assumed people had lives outside of the gym. You did too, but you felt something in you that you did not enjoy feeling. You began punching the life out of a punching bag, hoping it would get your frustrations out.

Are we jealous? Why? She has a boyfriend, you shouldn’t be complaining.

You were also confused, why Bela had given you “a show” in the locker room, talking to you nearly all of practice.... You were a rookie and she was the Captain...

When you had finished your workout, you went back to your apartment. You decided to make a late night snack as you felt famished after workout. You put in your earbuds to try and get your thoughts away from your encounter with Bela’s boyfriend earlier.

“Shower” - Crimson Apple

It gave you a nice chill evening vibe. However, although it helped very little, you still couldn’t help but be confused on what happened to you earlier today. However, once you looked at the time, you finish up your small meal and head off to bed, hoping the day’s classes are able to get your mind off of your confused self.

Throughout the day, you could only think about what happened yesterday between you and Bela in the locker room through your music. You also couldn’t wait to get in the water after your classes, as the song you were listening to was used in a Swimming sport-themed anime.

“Splash Free” - Style5

You cross the street and come across a castle-like building.

“Is this- the art building?” You ask yourself, “My lord this place is gigantic.”

As you enter the building, you were in awe, even the interior was regal. However, with some modern modifications. Like the elevator, you press the upward arrow button and the elevator doors open. You step in and press the number ‘4′, hence you were going to the fourth floor. Your major is Photography with a minor in Asian studies, concentration in Japanese. As you get out of the elevator, you begin heading to your last class of the day. You were more of a morning person. Thus, you had all of your classes before 6pm.

Chapter 2

#bela dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu x reader #bela is my wife #daniela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #resident evil village

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argylemnwrites · 3 years ago

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Sliding In

Pairing: Logan x MC (Ellie Whitnall) - referenced

Book: Ride or Die (~27 years later)

Word Count: ~1200

Rating: PG

Summary: An innocent question prompts some reflection

Author’s Note: Written for @rodappreciationweek Day 1 - Logan. It’s kind of more of a teaser for my upcoming MC piece than anything, but I figured it might be a fun contribution to the Time Capsule Challenge! And yes, this is my same MC from my RODAW Colt x MC pieces from last year. My ROD MC was with Logan until the “it was all planned” reveal, which pushed her to fully embrace her connection/attraction to Colt. This is set about 14 years after the end of those stories as a point of reference.

“Dad, when was the last time you went on a date?”

Logan glanced up from the email he was reading, caught off guard by his daughter’s question. “What?”

“When did you last go on a date?” Lily persisted from across the table, her algebra homework scattered in front of her.

“Why are you asking, Ladybug?”

Lily rolled her eyes at the nickname, one she used to smile widely at when she was little, clinging to Logan’s arm. But now that she was officially a teenager, she was way too mature for it, or so she said. “Just curious. Like, when we’re at Mom and Amy’s, do you go out?”

“Sometimes. Last weekend I went to a Rangers game with some guys from work.”

“That’s not what I meant. Do you go out go out?”

“Don’t you have homework that needs your attention?”

Lily shook her head, adjusting her glasses just slightly. “It’s not due until Thursday. Why won’t you answer my question?”

“Because I’m the dad, and it’s none of your business.”

“Uhh, I’m not little like Landon! It’s not fair for you to blow me off like that!”

“Lily, come on. There is no way you care that much about my social life. So what actually brought on this line of questioning?”

Lily bit her lip and twisted her pencil through her fingers before she asked, “Did you hear that Dani’s parents are getting a divorce?”

Logan resisted the urge to laugh. His daughter was about to try to set him up with her best friend’s mother. This was going to be interesting.

“Yes, your mother told me.”

“Right… well, Dani’s mom is nice, isn’t she?”

“Uh huh,” Logan glanced back at his laptop, pretending to read over the agenda for the meeting tomorrow he had open.

“Dad, stop it! You know what I mean!”

“I do, Lily. But sorry, I don’t do set ups.”

“Ugggh,” she groaned out with a sigh as rolled her shoulders. “Why not?”

“Let’s just say the last time I was set up with someone, it ended pretty badly.”

Lily seemed to accept his answer, though not without a massive sigh and another eye roll, but her topic of conversation stuck with him all night long. Past tucking in Landon and calling out for Lily to get off her phone and go to sleep.

Sitting in bed, he pulled out his own phone. He hadn’t really thought about her in years. And while every so often she would drift across his mind, it had been almost two decades since he last saw her. But even though Kaneko’s instructions to pursue Ellie Whitnall hadn’t exactly been a traditional set up, it was close enough that he was thinking about her now.

He hadn’t kept track of her after they all split up. Not that he hadn’t wanted to. But she needed space, from the whole Mercy Park Crew really, but from him in particular. He’d hurt her, violated her trust, broken what they had. She deserved a wonderful life where she could succeed and thrive without a bunch of wanted criminals holding her back. He’d known if he knew where she was and what she was up to, it would have been too hard to stay away. He would have been behind the wheel in an instant, drawn back to her side.

So back when they’d all gone their separate ways, he’d made the choice to let her be. He resisted the urge to check in, to see where she was, how she was doing. At first, it felt nearly impossible. But as time marched on, the desire to search for her, either digitally or in person, faded into something more manageable. Cold, lonely nights eventually shifted into a new life and existence as he moved from Detroit down to Dallas. He got his GED and got hired on the design team at Toyota. He met Lucy, got married, had two children. His life filled with new joys, ones he never could have dared to dream of. Thoughts of Ellie shifted from a deep pang to a fleeting nostalgic glow. Not for the life he lived back when he knew her, and certainly not for the role he played in the destruction of their relationship, but for the way his first love shaped him. For the hope and compassion she’d introduced to his life, without which, there was no way he would be where he was today.

He wondered, for the first time in quite some time, what she was up to. How she was doing. He hoped she was at least as happy as he was. She deserved that much. Hell, she deserved much more than that. He was divorced, trying to figure out the coparenting thing with his ex and her girlfriend. It had taken him a long time to find steady work. While all of those struggles were manageable, particularly compared to his teenage years, they still weren’t ideal. And if anyone should have an ideal life, it was her.

He wasn’t sure why he did it, why he started to search “Ellie Whitnall” tonight of all nights. He had no idea if she was still in LA or even if Whitnall was still her last name. She could easily be married at this point, although searches for “Ellie Kaneko” didn’t bring up any results. He scrolled through dozens of Ellie Whitnalls on Pictagram, trying not to imagine his daughter screeching out that only “old people” were on Pictagram anymore, glancing at faces, trying to see if any of them looked familiar. But maybe twenty or twenty-five profiles down, he stopped in his tracks.

It was her. She looked so similar. Her hair was a bit shorter, and she didn’t look like a teenager anymore, but he didn’t need the frequent location tags of Los Angeles to know it was her. She looked just like she always had in so many ways. Same thoughtful eyes. Same wide smile. Same little crinkle of her eyebrow when she laughed.

Seeing her again, even just through a screen, was how he always knew it would be. He scrolled through her posts, ravenous to see more of her, to catch any glimpses of her life that he could. She had a daughter, who looked to be a few years older than Lily, with dark brown hair and Ellie’s nose. She seemed to have a close group of friends, as she posted numerous photos of her with the same six women. She didn’t seem to have a partner, though. And there was no ring on her finger.

He had no excuse for what he did next, nothing to blame it on other than seeing her again tripped something inside him. It wasn’t exactly regret or hope or expectation. More a curiosity than anything. After all, he’d always been drawn to her quiet intensity. But for whatever reason, he swiped, pulling up the option to send her a DM.

Hey Troublemaker. It’s been a while

Perma: @mom2000aggie @octobereighth @kingliam2019 @lovingchoices14

ROD: @burnsoslow @mskaneko @iplaydrake @louvregirl

Logan x MC: @ridemelikeiamyourdevoregt

#rodaw #logan x mc #rodtimecapsule #choices rod #rod fanfic #choices fanfiction

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raeandwhatnot · 4 years ago

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Hold Your Breath- Alive!Luke Patterson Imagine

Summary: You have a big test coming up, but what happens if the test happened earlier than expected?

Warnings: anxiety attack

Words: 3.8k

Masterlist

A/N: Hello, I am thinking of taking requests for imagines. So far, I’ve only done Luke/Charlie. However, I attached a masterlist that shows everything I am comfortable writing so far. For marvel, I can try to write for other superheroes, so that way I can learn how to write for them. But yeah, if you want me to write something, request away! I will say, I'm in college so it will take a bit. Alrighty, enjoy this imagine!

Beep beep beep

I wake up to the annoying noise that is my alarm clock. It was already 6:45? I barely got any sleep last night from studying for the upcoming history test. I hate taking tests, so I stress myself out by studying as much as I can so I can get a good grade. I sit up on my bed to see my textbook and papers laid out around me. I turn to my alarm and shut it off. I grab my phone from my night stand to see that Reggie texted me.

Hey, I’m going to be a little late picking you up today. I’ll be over around 7:45. See ya soon- Reg

I reply with a simple okay to let Reggie know that I got the message. I collect my textbook and papers and place them on the night stand. I didn’t feel like getting 100% ready. I walk to the bathroom and turn on the light to see what the damage looked like. My hair was a mess and I had major bags under my eyes. I brush my (Y/H/C) hair and put it in a messy bun. I decided I was going to do extra light makeup today. I normally do a natural look, but today I was going extra natural. I put some concealer under my eyes so I don’t look scary. I then put some mascara and eyebrows. I quickly brush my teeth so I don’t have to look at my reflection anymore. Once I finish in the bathroom, I walk back to my room to put on different clothes. Even though I felt like absolute crap and didn’t even feel like putting on jeans, I knew my friends would realize something was wrong if I didn’t wear jeans. I changed the shirt I slept in into a graphic band tee, and I changed from shorts to jeans. To finish the outfit, I put on my checkered vans. I grab textbook and papers from my night stand and put it in my backpack.

After zipping my backpack, I took a deep breath to try to calm me down. I could feel my heart picking up its pace as I was stressing about going to school. I don’t do well when I don’t get a goodnights rest. This past week, I haven’t been getting enough sleep and it is now starting to hit me. I tried to remind myself that it was a Thursday and that I have one more day to study before the test. I took another deep breath and shake my hands to try to get the stress out of me a little bit. I grab my backpack and head to the kitchen for breakfast.

When I get to the kitchen, I place my backpack near the kitchen table. I wasn’t entirely all that hungry, so I just grab a bagel and put it in the toaster. I get the cream cheese from the fridge and wait for my bagel to finish toasting. I suddenly hear a knock at the door. I furrow my brows and look at my phone. It was 7:40. I guess I was having a quicker morning than I thought. I walk to the door and open it to see Reggie. “Hey, (Y/N)!” Reggie smiled.

I smile back, “Hi, Reggie. I’m just heating up a bagel real quick. Come on in.” I step to the side so Reggie can walk in. He nods and steps through the door. I close it behind him as I hear my bagel pop out of the toaster.

“How has your morning been?” Reggie asks as we both walk to the kitchen.

“It’s been alright. I’m a little tired from studying last night,” I say while spreading cream cheese on the bagel.

Reggie leans against counter, “But (Y/N/N), you’ve been studying all week!”

“I know, I know. I just want to do well!” I exclaim.

“Is that why you haven’t come to Julie and the Phantoms rehearsals recently?” Reggie questions. Even though Reggie can be a bit of an airhead, he does notice a lot of things about his friends.

“Maybe,” I mumble as I finish spreading the cream cheese and put it back in the fridge.

Reggie steps over to me and grabs my shoulders to stop me from moving. “(Y/N), you are going to be fine! You always do good enough on your tests,” he says.

I slightly smile at his comforting words, “Thanks, Reg.” Reggie smiles and drops his hands from my shoulders. I grab my bagel and backpack. “Okay, I’m ready to go now!”

“Sweet,” Reggie says. “Also, sorry for being late! I was fixing my amp in the rain last night. I think it messed up my car a little bit, so I had to have my dad jump my car.”

I slowly take a bite out of my bagel listening to Reggie’s explanation. “I don’t think you should be doing that, but okay,” I whisper as we walk to Reggie’s car. We climb in the car at the same time and start heading to school. Thankfully, school wasn’t terribly far away. To be honest, I could walk to school, but who wants to do that?

I finish eating my breakfast as Reggie pulled into the parking lot. Reggie’s assigned parking space was right next to Alex’s. Alex, Luke, and Julie were clumped around Alex’s car waiting for us to join them. “Hey guys!” Reggie says as he gets out of the car. I follow him out and join the group. I keep next to Reggie as I didn’t want my boyfriend, Luke, to see me in my anxious state.

“You guys are late!” Julie exclaims.

“Yeah, that’s my bad! I tried fixing my amp while it was raining outside last night and it did something to my car,” Reggie explains to everyone. They all gave Reggie a questioning look.

“How are you still alive?” Julie asks out of the blue. We all chuckle and Reggie looked confused. Luke pats Reggie on the back as we start walking to the school building.

As we were walking, Alex tugs on my arm to slow us down and be more behind the group. “Hey, are you okay?” he asks.

I shrug my shoulders, “Yeah, of course. Why?”

“You are more quiet than normal. You also look really tired,” Alex says quietly so the rest of the group doesn’t hear. Alex also suffers from anxiety like I do, so we understand each other. It’s really hard to hide it from him, but I always try to.

I scoff at his statement, “Alex, I’m fine. I’m just tired from studying last night; that’s all!”

Alex squints his eyes at me. “Okay, if you say so. You know you can talk to me, right? Or you can talk to Luke. I know he is more than willing to help you out. You are his girlfriend after all.”

I stop at my locker. “Yes, I know. I don’t want to bother Luke with my troubles. He’s been focusing on the band a lot recently. I don’t want to put more weight on his shoulders. Anyways, hurry and get to class. First period is about to start,” I say to him while putting in the code to my locker.

“Yes, ma’am!” Alex says while walking backwards and saluting. He turns around and walks to his first class. I have class with everyone in our group. First period (History) is with Luke, second period (Art) is with Julie and Flynn, third period (Biology) is with Willy, forth period (theatre 3) is with Luke, Alex, Reggie, and Julie, fifth period is lunch with everyone, sixth period (Pre-Cal) is with Alex, and seventh period (English) is with Julie and Willy. It was nice to always have a friend in class.

I grab my art supplies from my locker as I don’t have time to swing by locker between first and second period. Since art class on the other side of school, I have to put my supplies in my backpack now or else I would be late trying to get my supplies between classes.

I close my locker to see Luke leaning against the locker next to me. “Jeez!” I jumped as Luke scared me by his presence. “You’ve got to stop doing that!”

Luke laughs at how scared I was, “Normally, that doesn’t scare you that bad. What’s going on in your mind?”

I shake my head, “Nothing important!”

Luke tilts his head, not believing what I said. “Sure, whatever you say, (Y/L/N), You ready for history?” Luke asks as he stands up from the lockers and wraps his arm around my shoulders.

I turn my heel to walk to class. “Am I ever ready for history? No! Whenever Mr. Hall teaches, it goes in one ear and straight out the other. I just have a hard time retaining history.” I answer.

As we get to Mr. Halls door, Luke unwraps his arm around me and stands in front of me. “You got this, bubs. You always do good in class!” Luke says trying to cheer me up.

“Thanks,” I murmur against my breath as I look down and play with my fingers. I was starting to feel anxious.

Luke notices and grabs my hand, “Believe me, you are insanely smart! You can do this.”

I look up at Luke who had a slight smile on his face. I nod my head, “Thanks, bubs.” He lets go of my hands and wraps his arms around my head. I hug back by wrapping my arms around his waist. I start to feel slightly less anxious with the hug. Luke always gives good hugs. He rubs my head slightly and gives me a kiss on the top of my head. I pull away from the hug to give him a double thumbs up. Luke smiles wider, snaps his fingers, and turns his heel to walk in the classroom. I take a deep breath and walk in the room. Luke and I take our spots in the back of the classroom; I sit right in front of Luke. Not too long after we sat down, the first period bell rang and the morning announcements started. I tune out whatever was being said over the intercom, not caring what they had to say. I didn’t even stand up to do the pledge of allegiance. I don’t know why I was feeling so anxious; the test is tomorrow!

Suddenly, I feel a kick on my heel. I snap my head towards Luke. “You’re shaking your desk with your leg bouncing and it’s making a squeaking sound,” Luke whispers. I didn’t even notice that I was bouncing my leg.

I immediately stop bouncing my leg, “Oh, sorry!” I turn back to face the front.

Finally, the morning announcements were over. Mr. Hall stood up from his desk to stand in front of the class, “Good morning class. I have a few things to say before we get started today. First thing, I will not be here tomorrow because we have an away baseball game.” A few boys in the class let out some hoots as they are part of the baseball team. I slightly chuckle at their actions. “I normally am here in the mornings when we have baseball games. However, it’s a few hours away, so I will be gone all day. Therefore, we are going to have our test today instead of tomorrow! Surprise! I hope you guys are ready!”

My heart sunk to the floor. This couldn’t be happening. We can’t take this test early; I’m not ready for it! “Clean off your desks, everyone. Let’s get started!” Mr. Hall announces.

I lean down to my backpack that was on the floor to grab a pencil. I open up every zipper to search for a pencil, but I couldn’t find one. I was starting to panic as my anxiety started to get worse. I then feel a tap on my shoulder. I look to see Luke handing me a pencil. I zip my backpack closed and take the pencil from him. “Hey, you okay?” Luke asks as I turn back to the front. I nod my head because I knew if I tried to speak, I would just break down crying. I set down the pencil Luke gave me and wipe my hands on my pants as they became super clammy. Mr. Hall walked by and past tests row by row. He finally placed a test packet on my desk. I pick it up to look at the back to see how many questions was on the test. There were 30 questions.

“Alright, you have until the rest of the class period to do the test. Good luck!” Mr. Hall says and sits down at his desk. My shaky hand picks up the pencil and my vision starts to get a blurry and watery as tears started to brew in my eyes. I shut my eyes hard to make sure tears don’t fall. I take a deep, shaking breath and try to read the first question.

What year did the Holocaust begin?

My mind went blank. I’ve been studying this all week, and I couldn’t remember a thing. I skip around the questions to see if I could find a question that I knew at the top of my head. There weren’t many, but thankfully I found a couple of questions I could answer confidently. I look at the clock to see we have 30 minutes left of class which is enough time to do a test. However, in my mind, it’s not enough at all!

Suddenly, I feel Luke’s foot kick my heel, again. I look up at Mr. Hall to see him on his computer. I turn around at Luke, “What?” I barely whisper. Luke tilts his head to the ground. I look down to see a folded piece of paper next to my backpack. I pick it up, glance at Mr. Hall, and open the folded paper.

Are you sure you’re okay? You keep fidgeting in your desk.

Luke’s awful handwriting was hard to read, and I didn’t have time to answer him back as I needed to finish this test. I fold the paper back and slip it in my bag.

Time passes, and I was down to three questions that were absolutely stumping me. I reread the questions about 15 times each to make sure I could understand the questions. I run my fingers through my hair in frustration and let out a heavy sigh. I look around to see almost everyone done and sitting with their phones. I turn around at Luke who was done as well. How was he already done?!

“5 more minutes!” Mr. Hall announces. I snap my head to the clock; class was almost over. My heart starts racing and beating hard in my chest. I look back to my test. Do I just BS this and guess? Do I even have time to figure the questions out? After a minute or two, I guess the last three questions as best as I can and turn in my test at the front. I try to take more deep breaths to try to calm my heart down. Tears were threatening to fall down my face.

Finally, the bell rang to end class. I grabbed my bag as quick as I could and sprinted out of class. I heard Luke calling out my name, but I couldn’t face him like this. He has never seen my anxiety so bad, and I don’t want it to be at school. I walk into the girl’s restroom, walk in a stall, and lock it. I drop my bag to the floor and lean against the wall. My breath was uneven and quick. I can’t be doing this in public. I need to calm down! I try to do the 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 anxiety trick, but I couldn’t focus on anything. The tears that have been trying to fall finally fell, and I lost it. I place my hand on my mouth to try to hold the sobs coming out of my mouth.

“(Y/N)?” I hear Julie call out. I gasp as I wasn’t expecting her to know where I was? I look at the floor to see her standing in front of the stall I was in. “Hey, are you okay? Luke said you ran out of history.”

I attempt to speak clearly, but a loud sob left my mouth. “I-I’m f-f-in-ne,” I barely spoke in-between sobs.

Through my blurry vision, I saw Julie exit out of the bathroom. I exhale the breath that I didn’t know I was holding. My legs started to feel like jello; I couldn’t hold myself up anymore. Thankfully, the toilet seat was down as I sat down on the toilet. I then noticed that I was hyperventilating. I was having a full out panic attack.

“Bubs?” I hear Luke softly call out. I shake my head as I knew Julie told him I was in here. I try make my breath quiet. “Bubs, can you let me in? Please?” he asked. I could barely move. It felt as if I was a statue and I couldn’t move.

“(Y/N), I know you’re in there,” he states, not knowing I physically couldn’t move.

“I-I-“ I attempt to speak, but words couldn’t form as my hyperventilating kept me from speaking. Next thing I know, Luke drops his backpack on the floor and so does he. He crawls under the crack between the floor and the door. I back further on the toilet and look down so he couldn’t see my face.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Luke whispers and grabs my face to make me look at him. My cheeks were red and tears and tear stains on my cheeks. My nose was running from me crying. He trys to wipe away tears, but they kept falling on my hot cheeks. “Try to breath with me, okay? Inhale through the nose; exhale out of the mouth.”

I nod my head slightly. Luke moves his hands from my face and holds my hands. As Luke inhales, I inhale. As Luke exhales, I let out a shaky exhale that ended in a sob. He does it again, but as I exhaled, all that came out was a sob. I then hyperventilated again and shook my head. This wasn’t working.

“No, no, no, that was supposed to work!” Luke mumbled under his breathe. In the distance, I heard the bell ring to indicate that it was time for second period. This made me panic even more as I can’t be late for class! I squeezed Luke’s hands that my nails digged into his skin slightly. I noticed Luke defeated as he wasn’t sure what to do. Suddenly, I feel him remove his hands from mine and place them back on my face. This time, he pulled me close to him and slammed his lips on mine. My eyes widened as I was shocked at his sudden action. I finally give in a little in the kiss and close my eyes and release the breath I was accidently holding. After a minute, Luke slowly pulled away.

I open my eyes to see him looking at me with a worried look on his face. I then noticed that my breathing was slightly back to normal. “H-How did you that?” I ask.

Luke rubs his thumbs on the apples of my cheeks. “I uh, read about it actually,” Luke states. “When Alex told me he had anxiety, I skimmed some articles on how to help and support someone with anxiety. I read that holding your breath can help, and when I kissed you, you held your breath.”

I couldn’t believe what Luke was saying! “Wow, t-that’s really smart, Luke. Thank you.”

Luke slightly nods his head. He pulls down my head and slightly kisses my forehead. “How come you never mentioned your anxiety was so bad?” Luke questions.

I take Luke’s hand from my face to hold them in my own hands. “I don’t want to bother anyone with my burdens,” I say embarrassed.

“Look, bubs,” Luke whispers. “You don’t have to be embarrassed about your anxiety. I will always be here to help you if you feel really anxious or anything,” I give Luke a slight smile. “Also, I told Flynn and Julie to tell your art teacher that you wouldn’t make it into class, so don’t worry about class right now.”

“What about you?” I question, not wanting him to miss class.

Luke shrugs, “Reggie is covering for me. It’s okay.” I feel slightly guilty that he is missing class because of me. Luke stood up, “Do you want some water?” I nod my head as I slowly stand up from the toilet. Once I stood up, I felt a little dizzy and placed my head on his chest. Luke placed a kiss on the top of my head. “You good?”

“Mmhm,” I hum quietly. My head finally stopped spinning after a minute. I took my head off of Luke’s chest and stood up straight. “I’m good.”

Luke squeezes my hand and unlocked the bathroom stall door. Thankfully, during this whole time, no one had come into the restroom. However, it might look weird that the both of us are walking out together, but I don’t care at this point. We walk out of the bathroom and head towards the cafeteria where the vending machines were.

“Wait!” I stop my tracks, still holding Luke’s hand which made him stop as well in front of me.

“What?” he questions.

I look at Luke dead in the eyes and ask in a very serious tone, “Do I hold my breathe while we kiss often?”

Luke tries to hide the smile that was forming on his face, “No?”

My mouth opens wide, “Wait, really?!” Luke laughs out loud and walks closer to me. He wraps his arms around my shoulders. “I didn’t know that!” I exclaimed.

“It’s okay, (Y/N)! You know, because you do that, I was able to help you today,” he says while unwrapping his arms around my shoulders and instead places them on my waist.

I roll my eyes and lightly punch up on the chest, “Okay, okay, that’s true. Thank you, again.”

Luke kisses my nose sweetly. “Anything for you, bubs,” he smiles. I smile back. “Hey, there’s that beautiful smile.” I blush at the comment and give him a peck on the lips.

“Let’s go get water,” I say as I grab Luke’s hand and tug towards the cafeteria.

“There’s my girl,” I hear Luke whisper as he walks next to me. As we walk next to each other hand in hand, I take my other hand, wrap it around his arm, and place my head on his bicep. I’m grateful to have Luke in my life.

#luke patterson #luke patterson imagine #luke patterson x reader #luke jatp #luke patterson oneshot #luke patterson x y/n #charlie gillespie #charlie gillespie imagine #charlie gillespie one shot #julie and the phantoms #luke patterson au

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avidreider · 4 years ago

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okay, i’ll admit it. (Spencer Reid x Reader)

Summary: Reader confronts her boyfriend Spencer about her insecurities and his answer wasn’t what she was expecting.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

This is my first go at fanfic, so let me know what you think if you choose to read!

CW: Just relationship insecurities, mild angst (with a happy ending), mentions of the deceased Maeve.

***not my gif***

You were ecstatic that you reached this milestone with your boyfriend, Spencer. Together for two whole years, that is something that no one was expecting from the genius who was usually unlucky when it came to romance. You were hopelessly in love with Spencer. I mean, why wouldn’t you be? He was everything that you ever dreamed of. Not that you guys didn’t argue; you were human, of course you did. It was usually about something minor and silly; you using up all of the hot water so that he had to take a cold shower, or him not doing the dishes or helping you clean your shared apartment until you nagged him into it, normal things that long-term couples argue about. Those arguments were ones that were resolved quickly. But for the past week (the week after your anniversary), you had been having deeper arguments that seriously needed resolved. It started Saturday night when he got home from a tough case. A man lost his girlfriend to a female suicidal unsub, which brought back all of his buried feelings about Maeve. You knew what happened with Maeve since Spencer was one of your closest friends before you began dating, but you never understood the severity of how it affected him. You personally didn’t see why it would affect him the way it did. He saw awful things everyday and even though he established a relationship with her, he had only met her once, and all they did was talk on the phone, write letters, and share information on their lives. He thought that he had lost Emily, who he cared for deeply and worked with every day, so it didn’t make much sense that Maeve’s death affected him more than Emily’s ‘death’ did. However, his team had notified you how badly he was hurt, so you made a conscious effort to never talk about Maeve with Spencer. Well, until Saturday.

“I don’t know why you nag me so much when I get home from a tough case, Y/N! I am only human, even though people joke that I must be a robot! I have feelings, and you would think that you of all people would try to tend to them!” Spencer had shouted at you after all you did was approach him several times to ask him to stop reading his book so that you two could cuddle on the couch.

“Spencer, you see terrible things all the time, and I try not to nag you when you get home, ever! I didn’t realize that seeking your attention and affection was such a bother to you!” you retorted.

“I don’t see how you can want my affection when I am so obviously thinking about a woman that I’ve loved and lost before our relationship began.” Spencer said, while not being able to look you in your eyes.

“Well apparently it isn’t that obvious, because I hadn’t known that you were thinking of her.” you said.

“Y/N...,” he began, “I’m reading the book that I told you she gifted to me. I told you about the case when I called you last night, which almost directly mirrors the events that led me to lose Maeve. How could it not be obvious that I’m thinking of her?” he asked.

“I am sorry that you are hurting right now. But the fact of the matter is, I am your girlfriend. Me. And I’m right here, and I’m alive.” you said weakly.

“That was incredibly insensitive, Y/N.”

“HOW?! How was that insensitive, Spencer?! It’s the truth! You met Maeve once! You only talked on the phone or in letters! You didn’t even know her. You knew whatever she told you, but that’s the extent of it. You don’t know what type of person she was. Her ex ‘stalked her,’ so she claimed, but you don’t know if that is entirely true. She may have been crazy or a bad person just manipulating you! You didn’t live with her! You just don’t know! But I am right here, and you know me better than I know myself, or so I thought, and I love you! I’ve bought you books before, too, but you don’t obsess over them the way you obsess over that one! It doesn’t make sense to me, Spencer, am I not good enough for you?” you said as tears fell from your eyes.

“I can’t believe you,” Spencer muttered, totally unmoved by your tears. “I love Maeve more than anything in the world, Y/N. And you weren’t there, you aren’t in my head and you don’t know how I feel. You don’t have the right to question the depth of those feelings. And if you’re done belittling my dead girlfriend, I’m going to bed,” and with that, he went to the bedroom.

You couldn’t help but notice he didn’t assure you that you were good enough. You also noticed that he called Maeve his ‘girlfriend’ rather than his ‘ex.’ You chose to sleep on the couch that night.

The next morning, Spencer refused to be the one to break the silence. He truly thought that you were in the wrong for being so harsh when discussing Maeve, but he didn’t recognize the insecurity and pain that was reflected in your statement. So you spent the remainder of the weekend avoiding each other, and when he left for work on Monday, you decided to give him the cold shoulder just as he was doing to you. You didn’t answer his calls or texts, even though they were few and far between compared to how he normally does.

They didn’t have a case all week, so they used the opportunity to catch up on the mountain of paperwork that had accumulated at the BAU, but Spencer was home well before dinner each night. On Wednesday night, he looked up from his book to you doing the dishes after a silent dinner, and asked “Are you just never going to talk to me again?”

Your temper flared and you spit back, “Why would I? You told me that you love Maeve, but yet you haven’t told me that you love me since before you left for the last case. You act like I’m not good enough for you anymore. You said she was your ‘girlfriend,’ when I thought that I had that title. You’re over there reading that stupid book while I’m doing all the damn chores. So what exactly do you want me to say to you?”

“I meant to say that I loved Maeve, Y/N. And she wasn’t even my girlfriend. That was just the best word I could think of to describe our relationship. And the book is not stupid.”

“No, Spencer, the best way to describe your relationship would have been EX-girlfriend.”

“The book isn’t stupid. Maybe you just don’t understand it.”

“You’re right Spencer. I’m just too stupid to understand it, right?”

“Y/N I didn’t mean---”

“Oh don’t try to back track now, Spencer. You said what you felt, right? I’m just your stupid replacement apparently. I’m sorry that I can’t be more like Maeve for you,” and with that, you stormed out of the apartment. You weren’t sure where to go, so you wandered aimlessly, expecting Spencer to follow you. He didn’t. You ended up walking to Emily’s, and told her all about your fight with Spencer.

“Y/N,” Emily said, “I think that you need to tell him how much it upsets you that he’s still hung up over Maeve. I know you are hurting, but he can’t read your mind.” You thought about her words as she drove you home. When you arrived, Spencer was already in bed. You slept on the couch yet again.

On Thursday evening, you cooked dinner as usual, and did the dishes, as usual. You were feeling exhausted, so you got comfortable on the couch after the nightly chores were done. Spencer looked up from his desk and said, “Why don’t you sleep in the bedroom?”

“Are you planning on sleeping out here, then?” you asked.

“Y/N, we can still sleep in the same bed.”

“Not if the whole time you’re wishing it was Maeve lying next to you rather than me.”

Spencer actually closed the book as he looked up to you and spoke, “I have never wished it weren’t you. I just wish you weren’t so dramatic. The world doesn’t revolve around you, Y/N. I’m allowed to have thoughts about others.”

“Okay, Spencer. You’re right. My feelings don’t matter,” you say through tears as you head toward the bedroom. “Oh, and by the way, Spence, my world DOES revolve around you. And I would never want you to feel this way.”

Spencer joins you in the bedroom after he thinks you’re asleep but he’s on the phone with someone. You try not to be obvious as you listen to the conversation.

“I know, I know, I just wish she were a little more understanding. I do love her very much, and want a future with her, but it just seems like she’s angry that I had feelings for another woman before her... I hate not talking to her though. She’s my favorite part of the day... I hope she stops being mad at me soon... Okay, see you tomorrow, bye,” he hangs up as he crawls into bed. You feel somewhat guilty because you aren’t necessarily mad at him... You’re just upset.

On Friday morning, you feel Spencer kiss you goodbye even though it’s obvious he still thinks you’re asleep. That melts your heart, so you decided that you needed to try to resolve things. You had the day off from the hospital, so you headed into the bullpen of the BAU, but as you do, you notice something that throws you off. Spencer was laughing and playfully ‘fighting’ with JJ. You knew that he had had a crush on her, but you thought it was in the past tense. But after what was before your eyes and the events that unfolded over the weekend, you weren’t so sure. He caught your eye and stopped his actions immediately. That only increased your suspicions. You approached him with the lunch you had brought for him and set it on his desk in front of him.

“Hi,” you said shyly.

“Hi. What’s this?” he questioned.

“I thought that I would bring you some lunch today. It’s from that new Thai restaurant. I hope you like it,” and with that, you decided it was best to just head back home.

He opened the bag and discovered that you had written him a letter.

Dear Spencer,

I am sorry about what I said over the past few days. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings or disrespect Maeve in any way. It’s just that I have been feeling really insecure lately, and I feel like you don’t love me the way that I love you. I know that your job is emotionally and physically exhausting, and I want to support you in any way that I can. But I have emotional needs too. You have barely wanted to even touch me this week, or even talk to me. And I’ve noticed that any time you read the book she gave to you, you seem to resent me or forget that I even exist. I understand that I am not as smart as you or that I’m not as pretty as what you deserve, but I do love you and would do anything to make you happy. I hope that you feel the same.

Guilt washed through Spencer as your words and actions began to make a lot of sense. He pulled out his phone to call you, but you didn’t answer. So he sent a text that read, “Hey sweetheart. I just read your letter. I am so sorry that you are feeling that way. Please come back so that we can have lunch together.”

Your response was simply, “I already ate,” even though that was a lie.

Spencer texted back, “Okay, well let’s go grab coffee or ice cream, or both if you want. :)”

“That’s okay Spencer, take JJ instead.”

He called again, and you quickly pushed decline. A frustrated sigh left his lips, and he pushed ‘call’ one more time.

This time, you answered, “What, Spencer?”

“Are you seriously upset that I was talking to JJ?”

“Not talking Spencer, flirting. You were flirting with JJ, and you know it. You think that I forgot that you were in love with her too? I am sorry that I am not enough for you, but maybe you should just dump me instead, okay?” and with that, you hung up.

He was angry with himself for not realizing why that felt that way. The way you had been acting all week was obviously because you felt insecure. You weren’t trying to hurt him, he realized, you were just hurt yourself. When Spencer came home, he saw you running around the house cleaning and putting away laundry. “Baby, can we talk?”

“Sure,” you replied while you were hanging up his work clothes.

“Do you want me to help with that?” he asked, as he pointed at the laundry basket.

“I mean, they are YOUR clothes. You never seem to help me around the house though until I ‘nag’ you first, so you don’t have to help if it will be that big of an inconvenience for you.”

“Y/N, I am so sorry that I am hurting you. I guess I didn’t even realize that I was. I am so incredibly sorry.”

“Do you love me? Or do you love Maeve? Or JJ? I honestly can’t handle being a second, or I guess, third, option anymore.”

“There are different levels of love, baby. I used to have feelings for JJ, but I love her as if she were my sister. I did have a crush on her, but I also had a crush on you before I had you. And that’s a crush that never faded like the one with JJ did. And okay, I’ll admit it. I did love Maeve. I saw a future with her that I didn’t dream of before her. I felt like there were so many opportunities that were lost once she was gone. But you are my future now. Sometimes I do wish I could’ve saved her, not because I don’t love you, but because I failed to protect her. It was hard to adjust to life without her, but I did. But on the way home I was thinking about you. If I had lost you the way I lost her, there’s no way I could ever recover. If you had even left me because I’ve been neglecting your needs, I don’t know what I would’ve done. I also love my mom, of course, and I love my team. But, Y/N, I am so unconditionally and irreversibly in love with you. I am so sorry that you’ve been feeling insecure. But honey, you are so much more than enough for me; No woman in this world can hold a candle to you. You are brilliant, beautiful, funny, and so, so, sexy,” he adds as he plants kisses on your neck.

“I love you, Spence,” you say in between panting breaths.

“I love you more than anything, Y/N. And please, tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it. I don’t want you to feel like this anymore. You want more help around the house? I’ll fold the laundry, I’ll do the dishes, I’ll vacuum. I will never again say no to cuddling after a case. I wanna give you the world, baby.”

“You’ll do ANYTHING?” you ask. Spencer nodded.

“Can we go get that ice cream now?” you asked with a smile.

Spencer gave you a chaste kiss and replied, “I’ll get the keys.”

This was my first time writing fanfic so I’m sorry if it was bad but I got the idea and had to write it down. If you read it let me know what you think!

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid #spencer reid imagines #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x you #reader insert #doctor reid #dr. spencer reid #dr. reid #spencer reid fluff

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makapatag · 3 years ago

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What we inhale is not what we exhale. What we take into us is not what we choose to put out. When we bleed we are embers, when we are ignited we are quickly burnt.

I’m sorry. I write you these words because I know you will never read them.

I remember shitty fluorescent lights reflecting off of shitty dark brown beer, smoke from electric vapes and lit cigs wafting through the open bar. Neon would’ve completed the aesthetic, but in our backwater country we can’t even have that. We are incomplete, always incomplete.

The smoke doesn’t choke us, save for one friend of ours that has asthma.It's cold enough that my hoodie doesn’t stick to me. I don’t feel like a wet fucking rag. The night drags on, though. A Thursday night, after a gauntlet of classes that were more boring than difficult. Tomorrow we have exams.

Half of us here have already given up on good grades, the other half are still poised to get cum laude.

Music is indecipherable, and so is the chatter of everyone else in the establishment. We would’ve never understood each other too if we didn’t let our voices pierce through the pall. If we don’t scream loud enough.

I’ve finished one cig already. You look to the others, and one of my friends asks if you want to go out for another smoke. You nod. I go with you, I’m insufferable like that. You smile anyway, it’s not like you hate my presence, I hope.

Unlike me, you’re wearing light clothes. A good choice, of course, what with this country’s proximity to the sun (no wonder we have burned). I can see your collarbones; I notice not because I was scanning your body--no, I can't object you--but because just the other day I read online that breaking your collarbones is one of the most painful bone injuries. An absolute blossom of flame that breaks you, that makes you weak, that forces the other bones in your body, all working perfectly, to bend to the pain caused by that single small fracture.

The most beautiful things hurt the most when broken.

We make our way to the back, some large ferns make a wall. The green blocks the smoke or some shit? I think. I don’t know. We talk about academics, not a bad conversation to have, but I’d rather be talking about anything else.

As I write this I realize that I’m lying. I’d talk about anything with you. I’d rather not talk academics with other people, there’s too much of that already. But with you it’s okay. Of course you don’t feel the same way, but that is how things go right? When in the confession booth, the priest doesn’t feel the same way as the penitent.

When my friend leaves, invited by another to buy dumplings, we’re left alone in the midst of people. Together, some sort of social agreement is made with the strangers (not really, I know some of their faces) so that they don’t interrupt us. We light our cigarettes. The shitty, thin blue kinds, because one of the girls in the group didn’t like the really strong ones.

A ritual: the ignition of the flame. The burning of the tip, the inhaling so that it stays. The first exhalation of billowing smoke. The wisp of smokes that begin to waft, like the smoke from incense sticks.

Whatever I tell you from this point on is a prayer. The smoke carries my words to heaven, because God knows I don’t want you to hear them.

There we are now, a penitent and a priest. The veil between us is the smoke that wafts from the shitty cigs. We keep talking, I’m good at keeping conversation. A kind of Schrodinger’s confessional, since we’re both penitent and priest at the same time, until one of us fucks up.

You have no reason to fuck this up. I have every reason to, though.

That’s what smoking sessions feel like, this late to the night, this buzzed with alcohol. A confession, reconciliation. I laugh with you and see you from the fluorescent lights. It’s too dark tonight. I can only see you through fluorescent lights.

We inhale little deaths. I inhale a bit too much, and I cough for a moment. I inhale too much because for a single setsuna moment I yearn too much, I want too much. I mistakenly rub my eyes with hands stained from cigarette smoke. My eyes sting. The smoke is divinity after all, after leaving our body with our prayers. We are dirty, broken mortals.

Trying to rub divinity back upon yourself is bound to sting, because God doesn’t want us. That’s why we have to beg for Him.

We keep talking and I keep thinking that that’s what it is. So deep into the night, I realize that that’s exactly it: I want you. I don’t need you, I want you. There’s a difference, but wanting you doesn’t make you anything less than what I need.

I stand close to you because I enjoy your presence. As I write this I’m realizing that that was me lying to myself, and I only realize it after writing the previous paragraph. I stand close to you because I want you, in the middle of the smoke, in the middle of the night. In a confession booth you’re encouraged to be bolder, to remove all your armors, to lay yourself bare before God.

But you’re not God. You’re just a priest and a penitent, and we’re both sinners.

I know you’re drunk because you say that my work inspires you. You don’t just say it, actually. You shout it out. Of course, nobody breaks our social barrier, that smokescreen that tears us apart from the groups of other college students begging and dying and dying. I smile, and I nod, and I thank you, and it’s genuine.

I know you’re drunk because I am only praised by drunk people.

I think I know you more than you know me. But I'm lying, even if I don't want to admit it. We know the same amount about each other. I just say that because I want to be justified in liking you. Isn’t that sad? That I have to lie to myself to justify liking you. As if admiring someone else was a taboo you’re not supposed to partake. It is a murmur made into murder.

Is it because we’re friends?

We talk about relationships, eventually. You know a lot of people, but you’ve never kissed anyone. At that moment, one of the things I confessed to the smoke was that I wanted to kiss you. I didn’t want to be your “first”, because that meant nothing to me. We are all moments happening at once. First/last is a dichotomy created by humans that die.

I didn’t say it out loud. When in the confession booth there are some things you’re too ashamed to say anyway, no matter how good the propaganda and dogma is. This is one of those things. Besides, you didn’t need to know that. Who did? Some things are better left as thoughts, so that they can burn away like the smoke into the stars.

I think you’re beautiful as you complain about your too-small eyes and your too-thick lips. I know I’m drunk because that’s the first time I’ve ever confessed to myself that you’re that. That you were

are

beautiful.

I don’t think you’re beautiful because of your too-small eyes and your too-thick lips. I think you’re beautiful before any of that. I thought you were beautiful the first time I met you, but only confessed it now, the thought bursting out of me like Aphrodite from Chaos. It’s always been there, because if we find justifications for things that we find beautiful, then you have already lied to yourself. Beauty comes before conviction and reason.

I tap the butt of my cigarette. I bleed before you.

I bleed again, as I write this upon a piece of tissue in a cafe. I write it on something so temporal because I know you will never see these words. They say a person’s writing is dead until a reader brings it to life through the ritual of reading. Words are dead until they are vivified in a reader’s soul.

With blissful ecstasy I realize that my words to you will forever be dead because I don’t want them to live in anyone else’s soul but yours.

I don’t love you, I realize as this confession comes to its end. I can feel it, because our cigarettes are almost burnt down into stumps. This is my time limit, this is my deadline.

I don’t love you, but I want you. Want is a terrible thing, because it condenses yearning, needing, pining, and hoping into a single horrible syllable, so that we can say it without thinking about it, the same way the smallest dagger can pierce through the smallest hitch in the hardest armor. Want is a terrible thing because we have fooled ourselves into thinking it’s less than need, than love, when in fact it encompasses all those things and then some. I want you for all reasons and for no reason at all, because to truly want something is not to convince yourself that you do.

To want you is damnation.

The confession ends. We throw our cigarette butts into the plant pots.

I want to taste the nicotine in your mouth.

I rub my hands and we share alcohol. We are stained forever, and we use alcohol like agua bendita to try and cleanse it off. It doesn’t work, of course. On earth we’re all liars.

We go and buy water for our too drunk friend. Outside of the darkness of the confession booth and into the light of the convenience store. It’s disgusting how more honest we are in shadow than in illumination.

The confession is done. Nothing more until the next confession. I forgot about what we talked about the day after because I had to answer some bullshit about Epicurus. When the day ended I pondered on ataraxia, and wondered if it was a state of being or fragmentary, fleeting glimpses in everyday lives.

It’s better that I forgot, because I can’t live through every confession remembering every word I’ve spoken to smoke.

They say that writing about someone is immortalizing them. I think it is more of beatification. You can only beatify dead people. I’ve had to kill you to write you.

We leave. Confession done. Out into the cathedrals again. Words into smoke into wind into darkness into nothing.

#writing #short story

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marlahey · 4 years ago

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under the same roof part one: a stickler for the rules

a harry styles rpf ratings/warnings: references to stalking behaviour by a peripheral character, too many longing looks in a space too small to contain them, she’s clueless sometimes but we love her notes: surprise surprise! it’s good to be back my friends. as far as OG openings go, part one of utsr probably underwent the least amount of rewrites. the most notable change is sylvia’s age: she’s four-ish, going on five. just makes our lives a little easier in terms of continuity and logic! (please visit the masterlist to find all our other writing because I forgot tumblr is a BITCH and hates external links now. ugh.) utsr masterlist | part 2 (7.12.2020)

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• tuesday, 1st february 7:48 pm • In spite of the biting chill outside, it’s about a million degrees in this lobby. You wonder if the heater is broken and if it’s always going to be like this here. The hair escaping your ponytail is pressed flat against the back of your neck, and you’re struggling to balance the crate between your chin and the massive box in your arms.

One of the corners is digging into your gut so you raise a knee to adjust it, but the box slips in your grip and you barely manage to hang on. There’s a faint meow from Chowder’s crate. The doors to the elevator whirr open with a ding and you shuffle inside. “Which floor is it again?” India grunts. The box that she’s carrying is lighter but larger—more cumbersome. It obscures half of her face and the way she’s leaning over can’t be any good for her back. “Eight,” you reply, strained. India stretches an arm out to the keypad, struggling to reach the right number. She misses. “Yeah,” you deadpan, “so press four twice.” The sound of a quiet, stifled chuckle turns your head to the back corner of the elevator. A young man leans against the hardwood of the elevator wall with his hands clasped in front of him. He is tall and lean; silver and gold rings adorn his fingers. His hair is wavy and cocoa brown, as though he used to have a businessman’s haircut but has let it grow out. He’s wearing grey tartan tweed pants and black ward lo Vans. Tattoos poke out of the sleeves of his sweater. It’s an arguably strange ensemble, but he pulls it off well. The man pushes his tortoiseshell glasses up his nose with a thumb, gaze trained on the floor. His lips are still pressed together against a smile that flirts with the corners of his mouth. Only then do you realize you’d been staring. You tear your eyes away as heat nips your cheeks and ears. In your tattered converse, mom jeans, and grubby moving flannel, you feel suddenly small. Chowder moews plaintively, like he needs to remind you of his current status in, on, and surrounded by boxes. “Is it just me,” India murmurs to you as the doors ding open on the second floor, “or did that take… is the lift broken?” “It’s the slowest bloody thing,” the man interjects, like it’s the bane of his existence. “You get used to it.” The elevator jolts to a stop on the fourth floor and the doors peel open in silence. Nobody moves. “Sorry, ” India murmurs. The man just shakes his head. The back of the door to the elevator is a mirror so you’re able to privately relish in the invisible threads of your curiosity that reach out to him. “S’ fine, ” he replies softly. By the time you’ve reached the sixth floor, you’re still peering at the man periodically from beneath your eyelashes. He looks up and holds your stare in the reflection of the doors moments before they part, and a ding sounds again through the small space. He smiles at you, poised, before pushing off the wall and stepping carefully between you and India to the hallway. The doors close once again and you are alone with your friend. She drops her box a few inches and bugs her eyes out at you from over the cardboard lid. “Dibs.” You step forward, laughing, and bump your box into hers. Finally, you reach level eight, pile the last two of your boxes by the front door, collapse on the mattress on your bedroom floor still covered in clear plastic packaging, and order pad thai. • friday, 30th march 7:23 am •

“Hold the elevator!” you call mid-jog, and immediately wince. You need to be better about calling it a lift. You make it through the doors of the lift before they close halfway, but not before noticing an arm outstretched to hold them open for you nonetheless. A cross tattoo and the bottom of an anchor poke out from the sleeve of his suit. It’s black velvet that has a navy lustor in the light. You’re in the same company now as virtually every other morning since you’d moved here—the man with the glasses who noticed you on that first day. You’re pretty sure his name is Harry, unless he’s pinning someone else’s name to his chest every day on a badge beneath red emboldened letters reading, The National Gallery, London. It’s surprising to see him as you get on, however, because he lives below you on the sixth floor. Perhaps he’d forgotten something today and needed to go back up… if this were the case, you’re glad to have caught him by chance. Every so often the cast of characters rotates. Sometimes a stout older man with an emerald green briefcase and a mustache rides down with you on weekdays. A slender woman who is almost always on her headset, hovering by the button pad occasionally makes an appearance. They both live above you. Most mornings, however, are like today. It’s just you and Harry together, without fail, if only for those few measured moments of quiet at sunrise. Perhaps you two are on the same tube schedule. For someone you see so often, you know remarkably little about Harry apart from the observable; he’s not one for small talk, has poor eyesight, and boasts impeccable taste in suits. It occurs to you that you still haven’t had a full conversation with him. You absently wonder if he’s single. You’ve even made progress from polite nods of acknowledgment to a consistent “Good morning,” from him and a nearly unflustered, “Morning,” from you (though realistically speaking, a smile before you’ve had your first cup of coffee is only manageable because India would disown you if she knew that you weren’t taking every opportunity to talk to this stupidly handsome stranger). “Thanks,” you murmur, stepping through the doors Harry’s held open for you. “Sure.” The ride down passes in silence. You can’t work up the nerve to speak until the doors part and Harry gestures for you to exit first, and by then it’s too late. You offer a faint parting smile. But, you reason, there’s always tomorrow. • sunday, 8th april 2:42 pm • The lift stops on the sixth floor in its descent as you look up from your phone. Harry’s voice is audible from the hall as the doors open and it startles you because he’s usually alone. You take a sip of your iced coffee as Harry steps inside, wearing a black knit sweater with pink and orange planets across the front, black jeans, worn leather boots, and wayfarers. In one of his hands, he carries an umbrella and rolled-up reusable grocery bag. In the other—most surprisingly—he holds the tiny hand of a little girl. She’s wearing frog rain boots, rainbow leggings, and a t-shirt that proclaims the future is female. Her dense curls are a shade darker than Harry’s, her eyes are closer to brown than hazel, and her skin is a warmer golden hue—but her smile presses a dimple into her cheek, identical to the one you’ve been staring at for months. He has a kid? Harry pulls her gently inside and she seems disappointed that the button for the ground floor is already lit. “This one pumpkin,” he whispers, pointing at the close doors symbol just beneath. She presses it with a firm clack and beams when the familiar mirrors slide across. “Daddy, can we please, please get bananas?” You almost choke on your cold brew. He has a kid. Is there a ring? Do you see a ring? You’d never noticed him in a wedding band before and he certainly isn’t wearing one now. “Shh, we won’t forget bananas… I wrote it down, remember?” With his free hand, Harry fishes out a folded piece of Hello Kitty paper from his back pocket and holds out her, more than happy to let his child snatch it from him. “Daddy, look at the pretty star!” You almost choke on your coffee again as Harry’s gaze follows his daughter’s waving hand, still gripping the pink, polka-dot paper with cat ears, all the way to the golden star dangling from your neck. “Yes, it’s very nice,” Harry nods down at her, agreeing in a voice that could only be used with a child. “Don’t point, angel… s’not very polite.” He smiles at you, almost apologetic, and gently wraps his hand around hers to lower her outstretched arm. “You have a million stars at home.” The lift stops on the ground floor. You gesture for Harry to exit first, a courtesy he always seems to extend to you, and you melt into a smile as he lifts one corner of his mouth in timid gratitude. He hesitates in the doorway on his way out. “Say goodbye, Sylvia,” he says. He has a dad voice. It makes your stomach flip. Sylvia flashes you those sparkling brown eyes once more and waves, suddenly shy. You wiggle your fingers and she buries her face into her father’s leg. “We’re workin’ on it,” Harry says, like it needs an explanation of some kind. He keeps his tender smile when he glances at you over his shoulder before he and Sylvia disappear out the lobby doors and into the rain, hand in hand. • thursday, 7th june 8:24 am • You’re pinning an earring in as you step into the lift. It stops on the sixth floor and then it’s silent as usual between you, Harry, and the mustached emerald briefcase man. You still haven’t had a complete conversation with either of them, but you hardly mind. It’s gratifying to have a few moments of peace before the triathlon that is your final exams, the gym, then straight into your evening shifts at work. Even though you’re looking forward to drinks tonight with India to celebrate the end of term, you’re weary and your body is stiff. Another sleepless night had come and gone and you’d struggled to cover the bags beneath your eyes with makeup this morning. You frown in your recollection of the nightmare, the same icy stare tormenting you. There is an older man with nearly translucent blue eyes, who you see so often around London that you’re beginning to wonder if he’s a figment of your imagination. Yesterday you’d caught a glimpse of him in the reflection of a shop window on your daily walk home from the tube station. He was staring straight at you, but when you’d spun around to look closer, he had vanished. It had unnerved you so much that you hurried straight home without stopping at the shops for kitty litter. London is a crammed metropolis; at this point it’s likely nothing, but that doesn’t stop you from losing sleep over it. “My daughter has that book,” the man with the emerald briefcase says, pulling you back to earth. You let go of your now fastened earring and hold up the book that was pinned under your arm so that the cover is on display. The Truth About Forever by Sarah Dessen. “This one?” The man hums, continuing, "I’m ashamed to say I don’t even know what it’s about.” “It’s sweet.” Harry’s eyes flash to the book and then your face as you speak. You flip it over and consider the blurb on the back. “A girl sort of accidentally starts working for this catering company one summer while she’s dealing with the loss of her dad.” The stout man brushes over his mustache with his thumb and index finger. “I never knew you were American!” “Oh, yeah,” you laugh softly through a shrug. Harry looks down to the floor and you catch the last second of his smile. “I am.” “What brings you to London then?” asks the older man. “I’m a student at UCL.” “Impressive. What do you study?” “I’m a third year in Law... um, I have a minor in Art History, though.” You peer over at Harry through the reflection of the doors, but he simply pushes his glasses up his nose. You’re startled by the lift’s ding at the ground floor. “Cheers.” The old man nods at you before exiting. “Cheers,” Harry adds like a reflex, stealing a side glance at you before brushing past into the lobby. You could have sworn you’d seen the dimple forming on his cheek to mask a smile. • thursday, 27th september 8:51 pm • You knead the back of your neck with your fingertips and frown toward the ground as you wait for the lift. You don’t usually get home this late but your research advisor needed you to come in a little earlier to your shift this afternoon, and you hadn’t been able to get in a workout until an hour ago. What’s more, readjusting to London’s time zone after spending the month of August back home is taking a toll on your sleep. You sigh and try to relax your shoulders. The first term in your final year at university seems determined to bury you early. You press the auto-lock button on the set of car keys India had loaned you, then once more for good measure. You managed to finagle a guest spot in the garage beneath the building, though it’s your first time using it. It’s eerie and poorly lit down here; you tread lightly into the lift. You’d seen him again today—the blue-eyed man—and by this point it had just been… too often. You had convinced India to let you borrow her car to pick up some archives for your advisor in Ilford forty-five minutes out of your way. It was the first time you’d been to that part of London, and you were still getting used to driving on the other side of the road, so you were already on edge. You remember crossing the street over to a small brook beside the road and when you glanced over your shoulder, he was there in your wake, watching you. It was the middle of the day but you were alone, so you faked a phone call and took an indirect route to the Ilford Historical Society. It was enough to solidify your suspicions that something more serious is happening. On the drive home, you had mentally worked out a time in your schedule to visit the police department and file a report. The lift stops in the lobby on your way up, and your worries from the day promptly evaporate. You smile at your feet as Harry creeps inside the tiny corridor with a very measured, and even gate. Sylvia is passed out, her arms draped loosely around his neck. He’s in a charcoal grey tuxedo tonight and his usual glasses are switched out for contacts. You reach out to press the sixth-floor button, and Harry thanks you with the beginning of a smile. The two of you are stood at the back of the lift together, shoulder to shoulder facing the mirror, so it’s easy to indulge in your gaze toward the small child in his arms. You don’t try to hide the fact that you’re staring the way you might have a few months ago. Even in sleep, Sylvia’s tiny hand clings to the fabric of Harry’s collar. She nuzzles into his neck when the lift jolts upward. Her cheeks are rosy, and she wears a pyjama set covered in primary-colored dinosaurs. Her dark bob of curls—which have grown longer since you’d seen them last—are spread out across his shoulder, and her bloated toddler belly rises and falls against his chest. You smile absently at the short trail of memories you have of Sylvia, but your reverie is interrupted when you notice that Harry is looking directly into your eyes. It makes you do a double take. Could you have imagined it? Is that a blush? Had you embarrassed him? You’re still staring at each other in the reflection when the lift reaches the sixth floor. Your eyes dart to the floor, and you only allow yourself to look up once Harry is stepping out into the hall, well in front of you. He pauses in the doorway to turn around. “Goodnight,” he whispers. “Night.” You hesitate before adding, “Goodnight, Sylvia.” Harry’s smile only grows wider, as though the two of you had shared some fond inside joke. Something catches your eye when you arrive at your floor. You crouch down and pick up a plush kangaroo toy in the corner, flipping it over in your hands. It’s ratty, and has been washed so many times that the pink cotton on its ears is beading. One of the miniature black buttons for its eyes dangles loose, and the synthetic fur is matted. What was once chestnut has faded into a dull, tawny copper. “S.S.,” you read curiously. The initials are stitched in red to the bottom of the kangaroo’s long feet. The sound of the doors closing catches you off guard. You jump to your feet, tucking the small stuffed animal into your purse as you hurry down the hall and fish around in your bag for your keys. • saturday, 6th october 2:31 pm • You step into the lift, fasten in your earbuds, and tap the button on the keypad for the eighth floor. Today marks your third trip to the Ilford Historical Society this week. Soon you’re going to need to ask your advisor for reimbursement to fill India’s tank, but on the bright side you hadn’t seen the man with blue eyes since the first time you’d made the trip…You just hope that this means he’s retreating and not that he’s getting stealthier. You gnaw on the inside of your cheek and increase the volume of your classical playlist by a few notches. A flash of purple, white, and green bolts into the lift as the doors part at the lobby. Sylvia is in a Buzz Lightyear costume today. Harry’s tattooed arm swings through the half-open doors immediately behind her, going for the jet pack wings, but she squeals and escapes his hold. You watch the scene play out like a Tom and Jerry skit with La Traviata in the background as Sylvia darts around the corners of the lift and her father fails to corral her. Harry lunges for her, misses, lunges, misses again, then catches her by the elbow as she screams in laughter, squirming out of his grip. You silently pause your music and press the button for the sixth floor as Harry spreads his feet apart, catching Sylvia in his arms like a goalie as she tries to bowl through the closing doors. It’s fortunate that nobody else is trying to get in. She kicks her legs before adopting that pose children do when they don’t want to be held, and makes a rigid plank with her body. Hair disheveled and glasses sliding down his nose, Harry lurches for the keypad with his daughter wedged under his arm a few seconds after the doors close. “Oh.” He stops in his tracks once he sees the button for his floor is already illuminated. “Thanks.” You flash a quick smile. Harry sets Sylvia down breathlessly and she finds a hiding place behind him, her little arms wrapped around one of his knees. He leans against the back wall of the lift, the smallest backpack you’ve ever seen swinging from one hand with the initials, S.S. reappearing stitched onto one of the straps. You swallow and tug your earbuds out by their chord before slowly crouching down to eye-level with Sylvia. For a moment you look up at Harry because you feel the instinct to ask for permission for some reason, certain your expression is more serious than necessary. He’s frowning but he’s also smiling at you as though to gauge your next move—so are you, to some degree. You shift your eyes back to Sylvia, and reach cautiously into your purse. Sylvia’s eyes widen at the sight of the small kangaroo you retrieve from your bag, her mouth gaping in a tiny, square-toothed grin. It might just as well be Harry beaming at you himself with such a striking resemblance. Both of the kangaroo’s black button eyes are fastened tightly in place now. You make your voice light and ask, “Is this yours?” The sound of a zipper comes from above your head; you glance up to catch Harry pulling another kangaroo out of the backpack. How many kangaroos does she have? He passes the stuffed animal to Sylvia and you see now that it’s quite a bit larger than the one you’d found last week. It’s also different from yours because it has a long white stripe along its front with a wide, empty pouch halfway down its belly. Oh… perhaps it’s just the two. She cautiously approaches you with the larger toy in tow, until you’re close enough to snuggle the joey back into its mother’s pouch. She stumbles backward into Harry’s legs. You sigh in relief before rising to your feet. “Sylvia, can you say thank you?” Harry folds his arms behind his back and leans over to whisper against the top of his daughter’s head, but loud enough for you to hear. Her curls bounce as she bobbles her head in a bashful nod, wrapping an arm around dad’s leg again. “Thank you.” This child, you have to admit, is devastatingly cute. “We tore the flat apart looking for him this weekend,” Harry intones, shaking his head. “Where did you find him?” “In here,” you reply. He makes a noise, like the possibility had only just occurred to him. “Thank you.” “It was the least I could do.” You lean back against the wall opposite them as the lift reaches the sixth floor with a ding and you wave to the two of them on their way out. “Cheers.” Harry nods to you. “Say goodbye, Sylvia.” She gives you a small wave. Harry gently nudges her forward into the hallway with his foot. There is an interim of about ten seconds of quiet before Sylvia is hurtling back into the lift, making a beeline to you, and wrapping her arms around your legs. She beams up at you for the second time with a smile cut-and-pasted from her father. Bubbling laughter overcomes her, and you uncross your legs, unable to help yourself from joining in her smile. “Hello again!” you say, before it occurs to you that you probably shouldn’t be encouraging this behavior. “Vi,” Harry calls from outside the lift. She just giggles and buries her face into your knee. He appears in the quickly closing doorway, one hand keeping it open as he narrows his eyes. There’s something playful in it though, a practiced pretend serious. Your gazes catch and Harry winks, putting a finger to his lips. “Uh oh,” he says, “I think I hear a tickle monster!” Sylvia shrieks, but she’s not faster than her father, who’s crouched low to catch her by the sides, merciless fingers at work until the child instinctively releases you. She laughs and laughs and laughs as he scoops her up into his arms. “So sorry.” Harry’s apology is much less flustered than you would have expected. Sylvia wiggles in his grip, cracking up, euphorically naughty. You simply let out a breathy laugh as they finally both make it out of the lift together. Down the hall, you hear Sylvia’s giggle melt into a screech against gravity; you lean over to catch a glimpse of Harry flipping her upside down on his chest with her belly out, legs flailing back and forward over his shoulder. “Oh, you’re bad. You’re bad.” He does not show his daughter the mercy of waiting until they’re in the privacy of their apartment before the second round of tickling begins. “You’re gonna get Daddy in trouble.” • monday, 8th october 8:23 am • Riding in the lift alone is nice because you don’t have a full-length mirror in your apartment. You brush the cat hair off of the front of your sweater and fix one of the sleeves that had bunched up beneath all your layers. The yarn is a warm, autumnal bay that compliments your thick scarf and the gold buttons of your roomy black overcoat. You hear a ding and your eyes flash up to the floor indicator above the entrance. You almost lose your balance jumping back from your reflection when you see the illuminated number six. The doors separate and Harry steps in beside you, closer than usual. Today he’s in a forest green, double-breasted jumpsuit with faint pinstripes, and you can’t help but find it fitting that he works in an art museum. “Morning,” he murmurs. “Good morning.” You feel something tense pinned to the air between you two. “Did you fix Jojo’s eyes?” Harry asks after a beat, almost accusatory. Your eyes narrow at his reflection in the doors. It takes you a minute to summon to mind what he’s referring to. “Jojo?” He flushes a little, just enough to warm the tips of his ears. “The um—” Harry clears his throat, shaking his head. “He’s… the baby kangaroo.” If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was embarrassed. But as you’ve come to learn, Harry just loves his daughter immensely. “It was nothing,” you reply evenly. Harry lets out a light, almost defensive scoff. “You didn’t have to do that, you know.” “I know.” Part of you wonders if he’s the type to make a fuss over what you’d consider an innocuous gesture. You could see how an unsolicited favor from a stranger might come off as undermining to a young, single parent, come to think of it. The thought that you’d been the cause of Harry’s ire—or even his mild annoyance—makes your chest feel tight. The lift stops on the second floor. A group of three enters in staccato laughter, pulling your attention forward. Harry’s eyes meet yours in the reflection of the doors—just two seconds that maybe you could pretend were an accident—before you both glance away as though you’d been caught. The group leaves ahead of you into the lobby. “I just wanted to do a nice thing, you know. For her.” You’d been staring resolutely ahead in your admission, but dare yourself to glance sideways and look directly at Harry. “And for you, honestly.” You brush past Harry into the lobby without waiting for his usual beckoning you to go ahead, but sense him turn toward you at the last second. You do not look back. • wednesday, 7th november 8:23 am • “Ouch, shit―” You jerk your hand from your pocket, staring in disbelief at the tiny pinprick of blood welled on the tip of your pinky. Returning your hand carefully into your coat, you pull out the red paper flower just as the lift doors ding on the sixth floor and Harry walks in. Sucking on your finger is helping your wound, but consequently draws his smiling, vaguely concerned eyes. “Alright?” he asks. You nod with a little hapless shrug, holding up the offending fake petals with a black button center and protruding silver pin out the back. “Forgot I had this.” It’s only a slightly embarrassing admission. Commonwealth countries mark the day of the Armistice, November eleventh, in a particular, unfamiliar way; India had explained the Poppy Appeal briefly to you last week when the pins had begun to appear all over the city, and you finally had a spare pound coin for the volunteer offering you one yesterday after class. You have a scant three seconds to look at the poppy pinned smartly to the left lapel of Harry’s trench coat before he turns to face forward, but in looking down at the one in your hand, you realize you have no idea how he’s done it. Surely it can’t be that difficult? You frown down at your own jacket. A tentative stab of the pin into the fabric is met with an audible chuckle from the other side of the lift. You flush; Harry’s smiling gently with one corner of his mouth. You try a second time, going at it from a different angle. “You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?” You haven’t had enough coffee yet to justify how warm you’re getting. You shake your head, accepting defeat. “Best let me help you before you hurt yourself again.” Despite his offer, he makes no move to take the poppy until you sheepishly hold it out to him. Neither the mustached, emerald briefcase man nor the headset lady have appeared today, but the space of the lift seems remarkably smaller when Harry gently takes the flower and shuffles forward to get a grip on your coat. An impressive array of rings on each of his hands catches the light. You have no idea what to do besides stand ramrod straight. “Trick is to put the pin through twice so you’re not poking yourself on it all the time,” he explains, his eyebrows pulling together in focus. You watch his chest move as he breathes; the scent of Harry’s cologne wraps around you like an invisible shroud. It occurs to you that this is the longest interaction you’ve had since he noticed your careful restoration of Sylvia’s tiny treasured kangaroo. You wonder how long she’s had the pair of them. You also wonder if Jojo’s eye had been falling loose for a reason―if perhaps Sylvia preferred him a little rough around the edges, and it leads you again down a strange rabbit hole of is Harry upset that you did that? “I hope it’s okay that I fixed Jojo’s eye,” you venture. Harry pauses a moment, then laughs once, which draws you inadvertently closer together. “You’re funny. Which you shouldn’t be when I’m holding something sharp.” You almost stop breathing altogether. “Course it’s okay,” Harry continues without looking up. His nose is now scrunched as he pinches the tough wool. “She loves that thing, and I’m shit with sewing.” His eyes finally flick up to yours, a self-deprecating tilt to his mouth, and you smile tentatively. “Glad I could help.” With that, you’re quiet until he’s done and his concentrated frown relaxes into satisfaction. You watch Harry consider his handiwork, tracing the side of a petal with one of his fingers. “That should do it,” he says, stepping back. Your eyes meet again. You’ve reached the ground floor, but the doors simply sit open. “Looks nice.” He’s talking about the poppy. Your cheeks warm anyway. “Thank you.” Harry smiles slowly, as though he’s trying to pace the expression. “That’s alright.” He turns and ushers you out of the lift. “Have a good day.” “Same to you.” The edges of your poppy flutter as you turn the corner out of the lobby. Don’t turn around. Don’t ruin the moment. Who are you kidding? A quick glance over your shoulder reveals Harry loitering outside the lift, watching you. He starts a little, lifting a hand like he’s going to wave and dragging it over his hair instead. Harry turns abruptly. You almost feel bad for catching him out. You’re too busy walking faster and failing to smother a stupid grin all the way to campus. • thursday, 20th december. 4:11 pm • You’re thankful that everyone else in the parking garage has ruddy cheeks and runny noses from the storm—nobody would be able to tell by looking at you that you’d been crying all afternoon. Just when you thought you’d never see those blue eyes ever again, you’d felt a hand brush against yours on the crowded tube just hours ago. You turned to see whose pinky was resting atop your knuckles as he clutched onto the pole directly above your hand. The fear was immediate and visceral; every follicle of hair above your shoulders prickled, your lips went cold, and you couldn’t get yourself to start breathing again before stumbling back into the chest of some other unsuspecting passenger. How long had he been standing there? You bolted out of the doors the first chance you got, a good seven stops from home. You didn’t think you were followed but of course you couldn’t be sure, so you ducked into a coffee shop instead of jumping straight onto the next train. You used up all your data to call your parents, hardly able to hold your cell phone steady with the sheen of sweat on your palms. The police had no record of such a man you described. He was middle-aged, taller than you could have imagined so close up, and had a deformity or some sort of scarring on his upper lip. You would have recognized him if you stumbled across his photograph, but you’d gone through every headshot on the books within a ten-kilometer radius of London at the police station. You’d lost sleep combing through the online database of sex offenders in your area without any luck. And since you didn’t have a name or a concrete instance of harassment, they could only add the encounter to the file you’d started in October. Once you’d managed to get a hold of India, she immediately came to rescue you from the coffee shop and dropped you off at home. You insisted she pull into the gated underground garage rather than letting you off by the front doors. With a hand on your shoulder, she offered to stay the night. You had declined. There were some days when you swore you were going crazy, but all it took was one last look into his eyes on the tube today for you to know in your gut that he was real, he was watching you, and you were right to be afraid. You hadn’t heard the ding of the lift but you notice when the people around you begin to huddle on. It’s a tight squeeze inside. You sigh when you see that nearly every floor up to ten is illuminated on the keypad. You sneak into a corner by the doors and try to distract yourself by focusing on the overwhelming smell of rain carried into the lift on everyone’s rubber boots. A faint buzzing noise thrums overhead, and the light seems dimmer than usual—one of the bulbs in here must need replacing. The lift comes to a stop at the lobby. Your eyes are on the carpet, but you recognize a familiar pair of black leather boots ambling through the doors. You look up to catch Harry shaking the rain out of his curls with one hand. He licks his lips and scans the lift briefly, only moving from the entrance once he sees you by the keypad. His eyes change, the corner of his lips quirking up. Harry parts a few people to stand in front of you, chest to chest, carrying a box of Legos almost as tall as you, covered in fire trucks and construction vehicles. They’re the bigger, softer type of plastic blocks that come in lighter shades made for toddlers. You didn’t even know they made sets with so many pieces. It doesn’t seem necessary. The thing could be a column. Harry rests the box on the floor against his hip and even more people pack inside behind him, so many that you have to give up your corner spot which was already tight, and sandwich yourself in between Harry and the wall. And why is the person standing directly behind Harry trying to leave a voicemail? The two of you share a small laugh, looking down at your feet and shifting to get comfortable as the lift vibrates into motion against your back. Ding. Level two. Someone to the rear of the lift needs to get to the entrance. In order to let them through, Harry actually has to press up against you and prop his hand on the wall behind your head to avoid crushing you completely. “Sorry,” he says, strained. “It’s fine.” Ding. Level three. The last thing you need is for your heart to race like this after the mess of a day you’ve endured. To make matters worse (or better), Harry is close enough for you to feel the heat radiating off his body. You’re struck by the most staggering urge to just… lean forward a few inches. It would be so nice to bury your face in his sweatshirt, to be engulfed in the embrace of his arms, and to let yourself cry about your afternoon until you feel empty and full at the same time. Ding. Level four. You choose a button on his open black overcoat to stare at, flustered and humiliated by your own sensitivity. If it were any other afternoon you’d be having a field day with this but you’re too much of a coward to look anywhere near his face in your state. A single drop of rain falls from the end of Harry’s chin and lands on your collar. Ding. Level five. Your eyes are dry and puffy, your breathing is still ragged, and you seriously consider holding your breath altogether until you reach the sixth floor. You’d known since the coffee shop that you were going to cry the moment you stepped foot into your apartment tonight, but you hadn’t considered the possibility that it might happen sooner than that. You shake your head. Ridiculous. You look up idly to find that Harry is watching you. His expression seems serious now, oddly focused. You tilt your chin up incrementally. Harry licks his lips. Is anyone looking? How is nobody looking? You take a small breath and Harry’s gaze flashes again to your lips. Your palm brushes the back of his hand, hidden by the toy box, and he tilts his wrist toward you, spreading his fingers just enough to fit the tips of yours between his knuckles. His hand is cool from the rain and yours is warm from the car. How is someone still leaving the same voicemail? There’s space enough now in the lift for him to give you a few inches of distance so why is Harry drawing closer to you? Why is he leaning in? Ding. “It’s you,” you blurt, and swallow before adding more quietly, “This is your floor.” A few people stuff their cellphones back into their pockets, making their way into the hall. Harry clears his throat and leans over to lift the toy box. Your hands fall apart but he reaches out to gently brush the side of your arm in goodbye—unable, it seems, to meet your eyes. You watch him as he turns on his heel to shuffle out behind someone else, carding a hand through his hair. You close your eyes and exhale without a sound. You only open them in time to catch him glancing over his shoulder at you before rounding the corner. Neither of you had smiled. When the lift reaches the eighth floor, you almost forget to step off. You lean on the back of your door and sigh once you’re in your apartment, dropping your keys to the hardwood with a clatter. Alone in the dark, after one of the single most distressing days of your life, you press two clammy palms to your face and laugh—giddy—like a fool. • tuesday, 1st january 2:33 am • You swing your leg inelegantly out of the cab. Your foot slips on the road’s thin polish of ice. The ankle strap of your stiletto comes undone at the clasp as you only just remember that you began taking them off in the back seat. You laugh at yourself, nearly dropping your half-empty bottle of Prosecco, hobbling to the sidewalk through the rain with one shoe in hand. “Thanks—thank you, goodnight!” You wave your shoe in the air as the cab speeds away after having left a fifty-percent tip—it’s half past two on New Year’s Eve for Christ sake—and turn toward your building. Have the doors to the lobby always been this heavy? Perhaps it isn’t the best idea to try and hop back into your shoe while shouldering through the doorway, because you bang your head against one of the large, protruding handles with a metallic thud. “Fuck.” It hurts a little but the jello shots and bottle of Sangiovese you’d guzzled with India earlier are helping. You squint up because the lobby is spinning, and spy the outline of a man facing away from you with his hands in his pockets. He looks over his shoulder as he waits for the lift, lackadaisical. It’s a familiar profile. The half of his face visible to you is in shadow apart from the crescent moon-shaped hollow of his dimple sinking in as he smiles. “Hi,” Harry drawls with a chuckle. You step into your shoe without bothering to fix the ankle strap and wobble over to the lift. All night you had glided so effortlessly in your four additional inches. Now, you feel as though you’re walking a tightrope in flippers. “Hello.” You enunciate too much in your efforts to sound sober. You and Harry look at each other and smile until you laugh, at absolutely nothing at all. There’s no sign of his specs tonight; his hair is sopping, and the shoulders of his burgundy suit are damp. Harry gives you a once over. “You alright?” He’s slurring a little. You bob your head in a nod. “M’good.” The lift dings and you both lurch forward to step between the doors before Harry stumbles backward and gestures for you to go first. You almost fall forward again in your shoes and have to grip the wall on the way in to steady yourself. These need to come off. Harry moves to his usual corner, leaning against the back wall with a hand on either railing and you do the same in the next corner over. You shimmy off your heels to hold them in one hand while balancing your half empty bottle of Prosecco against your hip with the other. The carpet is coarse beneath your bare feet. You take a gulp of wine and the curled silver ribbon around its neck tickles your chin. You and Harry glance sideways at each other at the exact same moment, both of your heads leaning against the back wall of the lift. You have to lean forward and cover your mouth with the hand holding your shoes so you don’t spit out your drink in laughter. It’s not even funny, really. How many times had you both accidentally caught the other staring over the past year in this very room Harry’s chuckle builds into a laugh and the echo of it reminds you of Sylvia the day she’d clung to your legs. You’ve noticed that Harry’s eyes crinkle like hers, too, if he finds something especially funny. The laughter melts and you stretch the arm holding the bottle out to Harry. He looks down at it, then back up at you before taking it gently from your grasp and helping himself to a swig. “You know wha’s not fair? I’ve—” he hiccups. “I’ve got to wear a badge t’work. With my name on it. And I see you everyday—” “Almost,” you correct automatically. “Almost everyday… so you probably know my name.” Harry’s eyes narrow. “Do you know my name?” You nod, a bit delayed. He passes the bottle back to you and you admire the intricate embroidery on the cuffs of his sleeves. “I’ve got a pretty good guess.” “What’s your name?” Harry asks after a beat, rolling his back off the wall to lean on his shoulder and face you. “Charles doesn’t know either.” You tilt your head, frowning a little. “Who’s that?” Harry rests his pointer finger on top of his upper lip. You grin slowly before answering his question. Harry echoes you with an equally slow smile, his voice italicizing the sound of your name. It sounds like he’s saying someone else’s name—a person you’ve never even met. He says it again, like he needs to introduce himself to each letter. Your heart is about the only part of your body able to move quickly. Harry smiles widely. It’s as though every other one he’s given you before had just been practicing for this moment. “Nice to meet you.” You wedge your shoes and Prosecco beneath one arm, taking a step forward with your free hand outstretched. Harry shuffles to meet you halfway in a handshake and the height difference between you feels staggering barefoot. You remember the feeling of his hand in yours when it was hidden by the Lego box. It would be so easy to just shift a little and clasp them together the way you had before. You can smell the memory of whiskey on his breath and see the flush of his cheeks close up. “You look like a disco ball.” You laugh and he releases you, like the sound had awoken his sense of propriety. His eyes take you in again, almost reflecting the shimmer of sequins scattered across the fabric of your dress before he looks back up at you. “Yeah,” you agree, tugging the hem an inch down your bare legs. “My best friend dragged me to some formal thing the other American students were trying to throw together. Really random.” Harry nods so you go on after a pause. “You’re handcuffed to someone and have to finish a bottle of wine, but India and I didn’t coordinate beforehand so we both brought one.” “Seems like fun.” “It certainly was.” You raise the Prosecco and it sloshes up against the neck of the bottle in tiny waves. “And you,” you raise your eyebrows, “look like a Turkish rug.” Harry grins, inclining his head as if that were the highest compliment. “Where’s Sylvia tonight?” His face is full of mock surprise. Harry pats the breast pocket of his jacket before running his hands over the front and back of his trousers. He looks over his shoulders, comically frantic, scanning each corner of the lift until you begin to laugh. Harry smiles wider, a little too pleased with himself. “She’s with her mum and her mum’s fiancé this week—so I guess her, um… soon-to-be other mum… They were having a little gathering at their new place tonight and we did the countdown a few hours early for her.” “How sweet.” Without a second thought, you inch closer and begin reaching for a stray piece of confetti in his hair. You can tell you’re drunk because you indulge a little in combing your fingertips through one of Harry’s curls, though it’s probably subtle enough for him not to notice. He goes very still. “Did—did you press the thing?” Harry stammers, his attention jerking to the keypad. “I didn’ press the thing.” “Oops,” you laugh, and catch a glimpse of yourself in the reflection of the doors as you turn to watch Harry hit the sixth and eighth floor buttons. Though the rain has offset India’s efforts to tame your hair, what surprises you more is the bright-eyed expression on your face. It’s out of character for you to feel this exhilarated over a simple drunken conversation. But something delightedly nervous hums beneath your skin all the same. “Why are you so wet?” you ask as Harry returns from the keypad. A tad closer, you note, than where he’d been standing before. You lean on your shoulder to face him and he slouches a little to meet your height. “Walked home,” Harry replies. Your jaw drops. “In the pouring rain?” “S’like ten minutes—really not bad.” Harry shrugs. “I didn’t mean to get so pissed tonight. My New Year’s resolution was to go a little easy on the booze.” He shakes his head in a chuckle. “I can’t really handle what I used to since the little one came along. M’not much of a drinker anymore.” The lift jumps as you reach the sixth floor and your arm flies out to balance yourself in the same moment that Harry offers both hands to catch you. You clutch his forearm and then immediately let go. “Sorry,” you murmur, taking one last look at him. “Well, goodnight Harry. Happy New Year’s.” The look he is giving you is peculiar—on the verge of resignation, but not quite letting go of all hope. As though the last sober part of him is leaning forward on its elbows, asking if you agree without telling you first what it wants. Harry cranes his neck around to look down the stretch of hallway, his head falling back against the wall with a gentle thump. “You know, New Year’s isn’t really over until you finish all the champagne,” he declares, and you laugh a little in surprise. “Prosecco.” He waves away the correction. “Fine, all the Prosecco.” “New Year’s isn’t over until you get every last piece of confetti out of your hair,” you challenge. Harry raises his eyebrows, looking back to you. If he doesn’t get off soon, the doors are going to close. “New Year’s isn’t over until your shoes come off in the lift,” he shoots back. You burst out in a laugh. “New Year’s isn’t over until you’ve broken your resolution two hours into January.” Harry rolls his eyes. He smirks a little and it’s annoyingly charming in the dim, golden glow of the lift’s broken light. He’s stalling. All at once, you’re acutely aware of the lingering smell of rain and the faint hum of the light fixture overhead. You swear you can hear the echo of that never-ending voicemail from the day you’d slotted your fingers into his like it was a secret, just an arm’s length away from where the two of you stand now. He had tried to kiss you once before and you had stopped him. But now, in this moment, with your heart in your throat, you desperately want him to try again. Harry starts to speak and you don’t wait for him to finish. “Well, New Year’s isn’t over—” “—until you kiss someone at midnight.” You’re hyper aware of your own breathing in the daunting silence that follows. The lift doors seal closed. Harry is close enough for you to see the flecks of hazel in his eyes like sea glass. He floats his hand up as though he’s going to cup your jaw, but traces the tip of his middle finger in a line up your cheek to push back your hair so lightly it tickles. His jaw flexes and just when you swear he isn’t going to, Harry leans in. It’s gradual, as though he’s waiting for you to change your mind, but your heads are tilting and then the tips of your noses brush. If you turn, even minutely, the corner of your mouth will meet his. You can feel your pulse thumping in the side of your neck. It dawns on you that you’re both simply waiting to see who is going to do it. “It’s not midnight,” Harry breathes. “Don’t tell me you’re a stickler for the rules.” The warmth and dew of his laugh grazes your cheek. With that, Harry brushes his mouth against yours. It feels painstakingly tender, like he’s never kissed anybody before. You’re so spellbound that you’re hardly even sure how to reciprocate something so soft. Harry’s bottom lip hovers over the very tip of your cupid’s bow just before he pulls away. Was that even a kiss? The very edges of your mouths had met, but only just. You still feel the tingle of where his lips had been moments ago. You open your eyes and Harry is a few inches away now, looking down at you. His hand is still ghosting the side of your face, like he’s afraid he might break you. When had your own hand slid flat against his chest beneath the lapel of his suit? “Is this a good idea?” you whisper, sliding your hand out to trace one of the round, fabric buttons with your fingertip. He swallows roughly. “Maybe not.” “Okay.” “Okay,” he yields. But neither of you move away. “Maybe this should just stay between us,” you suggest after a beat, heart sinking in your chest. “Well then if it’s just staying between us…” Before you have the chance to inhale, Harry presses his mouth against yours, harder, like he means it this time. His lips are warm and soft as they move with yours. You’re on your toes as one of his hands slides to the back of your neck, the other snaking around your waist to pull you into him. It still isn’t close enough. It’s surreal to be kissing him after a year. How much time had lapsed in total since you’d seen him that first day you moved in? How many mornings had been spent beside each other in silence? You’d spoken through side glances and subdued smiles from opposite corners of a crowded lift more than you ever truly had with words. But this… this feels like threads made up of every intimacy you’ve ever shared in this tiny room pulling you together at last. You pull apart just before the lift dings on the eighth floor. You’re both somewhat winded as you rest your foreheads together, and you release two unintended fistfuls of his jacket. Harry slides his hands down your bare arms to cup your elbows, his thumbs stroking circles in the soft crook of your forearm. “Have some water before you go to sleep.” “I will,” you chuckle. You’re unsure why either of you are speaking so softly, there’s no need. “Goodnight, Harry.” “Goodnight.” He says your name like a promise—like he’s determined to make up for all the days he didn’t get the chance to use it. You didn’t know it could sound like that. “Happy New Year’s.” You smile over your shoulder before padding barefoot into the hall as he reaches out to push the sixth-floor button for the second time. The last thing you’re able to see through the closing doors of the lift is Harry rubbing a thoughtful hand over his stubble, smiling down at his feet. (part two)

#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #utsr redux

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erinxneil · 4 years ago

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22: “Sorry we are late, we were totally not having sex.”

Thank you so much for suggesting this @mortallythoughtfulgurl ! It made me super happy to see that you enjoyed my previous post enough to suggest a specific number! I plan to do all of the prompts on the list, however if there are any specific numbers that you’d like me to do sooner then simply send me a request and I will do so! These prompts are all from the list here.

masterlist

TW: Mentions of Reid’s prior drug problem, mentions of family death.

Pairing: Spencer Reid X Reader

Summary: Spencer doesn’t quite understand the concept of being subtle.

>>>These are all basically one-shots! This doesn’t follow the story line as the last post that I made, however I may do a series soon :)

Throwing my bag over my shoulder, I smiled as I packed away my things. Not only had the team just solved another successful case.

I, myself had managed to save the victim, as I was able to talk down the unsub simply by using my words. I did this as I understood what the unsub was going through. While, of course, resorting to murder and becoming a serial killer isn’t exactly the first thing that I did after discovering that my sister had been murdered, although I was able to empathize with the killer and thus convince him that murdering a girl who bared resemblance to his kin would not revive her.

I felt my smile droop the faintest bit. While the victory of a successful case made me feel like rejoicing, this case had brought up poor memories. I shrugged them off and headed for the door.

“Hey, Y/N!” JJ called out. I turned around slowly, eyebrow perked in question. “You coming out tonight? We thought we’d head out for some drinks.”

I offered her a tight smile. “Not tonight, guys, sorry.”

Spencer coughed. “Yeah, me neither, I’m not really feeling it.”

Emily frowned. “Reid, didn’t you just say that you we-”

He coughed again. “Yeah. Changed my mind. I’m not feeling well. Is that a problem, Emily?” Spencer cocked an eyebrow in challenge, as if trying to be intimidating. I chuckled a little. While Spencer could be intimidating as hell during cases, such as during interrogations, we all know that he would never do anything that could remotely harm us. However, his sass was welcomed and quite amusing.

I turned. “Well, goodnight, friends. See you tomorrow.” Before I could take even more than three steps, my name was called again.

“Wait, Y/N! You took an Uber here, right?” I blinked. Oh, right, I had completely forgotten about that. I had known we would be leaving the state for a few days for the case, and didn’t want to leave my car here. How did Reid remember that, yet I didn’t? Spencer disrupted my thoughts again. “Well- uh, I could give you a ride. If you’d like.” I quirked an eyebrow at how fidgety he was being.

“Alright, lover-boy, lead the way.” His cheeks tinged at the nickname. It was admittedly quite cute, however he quickly ducked his head and lead me to the car, shielding his face with his hair so that I would be unable to see his blush.

-*-*-*-*-*-

We drove in relative silence for a majority of the car ride. Although surprisingly, it wasn’t awkward. As the case hit me harder than I expected, I welcomed the silence, and was thankful that Spencer didn’t force any conversation between us.

“It’s just the left up ahead.” I muttered quietly. Reid bit the inside of his cheek, eyes remaining focused on the road ahead of him. I blinked as he drove completely past the turn. “Uh, you missed it.” I chuckled nervously.

“I’m not taking you home.”

I quirked an eyebrow. “Reid, I hope you don’t plan on kidnapping me. For a profiler, you should know that considering you were the one to give me a ride home, everyone at the BAU saw me get into your car, which would make you a prime suspect.” He smiled softly. “I’m not kidnapping you, Y/N, I just wanted to show you something.”

I furrowed my eyebrows but didn’t question him further until we pulled up on the top of a cliff.

“Woah.” I murmured, admiring the beautiful landscape before me. In the distance, snowy mountaintops scattered the planes, with ashy planes and various kinds of trees. It was the type of image that you would find as a laptop screen background, one that you never imagined you would see in person.

“Where are we?” I questioned. When I wasn’t met with an answer, I turned to glance at Spencer, who jumped in surprise at me looking at him. He blinked abruptly, as if being taken out of a trance.

“This is called Possum Point- or, at least, a crook of it. I come here often when I feel particularly struck by cases that we have.” I smiled. “It’s beautiful. However, I don’t really understand why you’re showing me this.”

Spencer unbuckled his seat belt and got out of the car, before moving to my door and opening it for me. He then sat on the hood of the car and patted the spot beside him with a grin. I sat, and raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“Come on, Y/N, I’m a profiler, you can’t really suppose that I didn’t notice that you took this case personally?”

I shifted uncomfortably. “So what?”

Reid shrugged. “I just figured you’d want someone to talk to. Or at least, I wanted you to know that there’s someone available to listen, if you’re willing.” The corner of my lip tugged upwards. In the moonlight, the features of the man next to me seemed ever the more beautiful. He held direct eye-contact, something that was rare for Spencer, and therefore I knew how genuinely he wanted to comfort me. His delicate features were something I had never really taken notice of before. Before, he was simply Reid. The brainiac agent- sorry, Doctor- whom you happened to work beside. Now, not only did you acknowledge the beauty of his facial structure, you also understood that there was more to him than useless facts and magic tricks. He held compassion that he was willing to offer you.

“Y/N?” His soft voice broke me from my thoughts. In the process of admiring him, you had completely forgotten that he was speaking to you. You sighed.

“I just understand the pain and anger that Homer was feeling. I mean, obviously murder isn’t a reasonable reaction. However, I can understand being angry at the world and wanting to make others feel the pain that you do.” I frowned. “When my sister died, I was in a dark place, and often took out my anger on the people who cared about me, because I didn’t understand how they were allowed to continue living their lives being happy, while my sister wasn’t able to even continue living.”

Spencer wrapped an arm around my shoulder and gently rubbed my arm. “I can’t even imagine how that must have felt. I’m sorry that you had to go through that. Having people all around you but still feeling entirely alone...” His voice trailed off softly. This reminded you that he said he himself comes often when cases cut him too deeply.

“Spencer, what kinds of cases cause you to come out here to reflect?”

“Usually when we have cases focused on unsubs with a drug addiction.” Reid muttered. My eyebrows raised in surprise. I had heard office chatter of rumors of a drug addiction that Reid had battled alone a year or two prior to your arrival at the BAU, although you always took them with a grain of salt, as you hadn’t heard it straight from his mouth. However, it appears that now, you could confirm your suspicions.

You offered him a faint smile. “Well, if you ever need someone to talk to it about, or you’d simply like some company on this cliff as well, I’d be more than happy to abide. I feel much better than I did when we left the office.”

Reid met my smile with a grin. “Glad to be of service.”

-*-*-*-*-*-

The next day at work, I could tell that the dynamic between Spencer and I had been altered. Usually, we simply worked beside each other, sparing words of encouragement every now an then. However, after that night, we stole glances, smiled at each other, and often conversed on the jet. We eventually began having lunch together. Spencer would buy me coffee on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and I bought it for him on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. We knew each other's orders- I took mine black, while his required as much sugar was available.

Weeks went by, and we only drew closer.

“Alright everyone, remember, dinner tonight at Jose’s Diner! We’re celebrating the release of Rossi’s newest book!” JJ explained to the team as we prepared to leave for the day. “You are to arrive at 8 PM sharp, if you’re late you better have a really good excuse!”

I grinned at JJ’s scolding. While we all knew that she wouldn’t be able to do anything to us, she’s quite terrifying when she’s angry, so I doubted that anyone would dare to arrive a minute after 8:00. I began to head for the door when I was stopped by a nervous Spencer.

“Hey, Y/N, could I give you a ride home?” I grinned. “Of course, Spence.”

When we arrived, I glanced at him expectantly. “So, I suppose you had a reason for offering to drive me home, other than the obvious of course, of you simply enjoying my company.” I smiled coyly, and he scratched the back of his neck anxiously.

“Y/N,” he began slowly, “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that night on the cliff.” I blinked in surprise, but stayed silent, allowing him to continue. “You’re beautiful, inside and out. You’ve seen me for who I am and it’s like the more time I spend with you, the longer I want to. I’m not quite sure what this feeling is, or what to do about it, but-”

I cut off his rant by planting my lips on his, one hand on the side of his jaw. He froze at first, taken by surprise, however he quickly melted into the kiss and responded. Pulling away for a moment, he smirked, “So I suppose that you feel the same?”

I rolled my eyes in amusement. “Just shut up and kiss me.” I pulled him closer again by the collar of his shirt, and he returned with no protest.

-*-*-*-*-*-

I smoothed out my dress quickly and checked my makeup one last time in the car mirror before turning to Spencer with a smile. It was 8:24. “Alright, we lost track of time a little bit so we don’t have as much time to debrief as I’d like. Remember, just for now, we are keeping this to ourselves. We haven’t even necessarily discussed this between ourselves yet, therefore there is no reason to involve our coworkers right now. You happened to be giving me a ride when your car broke down. Understood?”

Spencer nodded. “Understood.”

“Are you sure?” “I’m sure. Completely understood.”

We walked into the building together and stood next to our coworkers table. All of their eyes lifted to us expectantly. I opened my mouth to give an explanation, however Spencer beat me to it.

“Sorry we are late. We were totally not having sex.”

I blinked. Reid blinked. Our coworkers blinked. The waitress blinked. The table beside us blinked. The clock on the wall blinked.

I sighed. “Well, so much for secrecy.”

-*-*-*-*-*-

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robinofinashiro · 4 years ago

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love me love me / pretend that you love me / leave me leave me / say that you need me / so i cry and i pray for you to love me /

pairing: sakusa kiyoomi x fem! reader

note: the next imagine is part seven!! i’ve been rewatching haikyuu and sakusa has been living in my head rent free since then. I swear all of your req’s will be filled out but i wanna break up posts so it isn’t all just AoT.

it wasn’t a secret to any of the MSBY players that both you and Sakusa were rather close to each other. it came off to no surprise to anyone, however; Atsumu being the privileged little prick he was, loved to poke fun at his most serious teammate.

“hey sweetie,” Atsumu said, walking up to you as he wrapped his practice jersey around his neck and purposely showing off his bare upper body, “good morning Miya,” you replied, giving him a water bottle. he gave you a frown, “aww, what’s up with the last name?” he asked, making you slap his arm.

Sakusa walked in with Hinata and Bokuto, the two of them talking his ear off about whatever it was they did last night. Sakusa’s eyebrows fluttered to confusion. he saw Atsumu basically giving you a show with him being shirtless and you weren’t stopping him from doing it.

given that you were one of their managers, it was second hand nature that you would see them like that every so often, but what Sakusa didn’t like was that he was alone like that with you. you were a cute girl, no one could deny that, so seeing you with Atsumu like that made him a bit angry.

“good morning boys! hope all of you slept well last night!” you said happily, giving each boy their water bottles and towels for practice. usually, Sakusa would have stood by you and talked with you a bit but for whatever reason, you realized he didn’t and felt a bit odd, “your coach is running late. traffic was pretty nasty coming from our end of town so he instructed me to tell all of you to start practice without him,” you informed.

they all nodded, pulling on their shoes and jerseys. you grabbed Sakusa’s wrist, gently holding it, “are you okay? you seem upset.” you asked him, hoping no one heard. he gave you an empty stare and walked onto the court without saying a word.

you huffed, banking on the hope that maybe Sakusa was just having a rough day and it wasn’t you that had made him upset. in the time that his coach was still gone, everyone on the team practiced but still managed to goof around when they could. however, you could tell that Sakusa was still being abnormally angry and this time, it was at Atsumu.

“okay, timeout,” you screamed, getting up from your chair, “Kiyoomi, is something wrong? you don’t seem like yourself,” you told Sakusa quietly. he shrugged, watching you drink your energy drink in nervousness, “seriously Sakusa, whatever is bothering you is affecting the way you play.”

Sakusa rolled his eyes before giving Atsumu a quick look.

“maybe you should have worried about my playing before you decided to flirt with one of my teammates.” you stared at him in confusion, wondering where the hell he got the idea that you were flirting with any of his teammates, “are you kidding me? I wasn’t flirting with anyone,” you stated, feeling your anger starting to rise.

the entire gym had fallen silent as the argument started getting louder, “so you weren’t just flirting with my setter when we walked in?” he said a bit too calmly. you let out a laugh, trying to figure out where his mind was, “me? flirting with Atsumu? let’s be real here!” you exclaimed.

Atsumu remained quiet, not knowing what Sakusa was even talking about, “I just found it weird that he was shirtless and getting really close with you when we walked in and you had no intentions to stop it. if I knew any better, I would say you were-,” you bit your lip as a way to stop yourself from letting anything irrational come out of your mouth but it immediately failed.

“I dare you to finish that sentence. I fucking DARE you,” you screamed, catching everyone off guard. even Sakusa himself was stunned by your tone of voice. “I am so sorry for causing a scene right now, Meian, but I’m just fucking dumbfounded at the idea that Sakusa thinks I’m sleeping with the entire team!”

“I never accused you of that!” “please! everyone knows what you were hinting at! unless I missed the ballpark completely then you can gladly explain what you meant!”

Sakusa remained silent knowing he was caught red handed.

you had no intentions of blurting this out but as your argument continued, it came like word vomit.

“see, I wasn’t even going mention this to anyone because I was planning on extending my contract with the team, however; it’s funny how your true colors about me came out the week you play the Adlers.”

the entire team fell stiff, a feeling of sudden fear crawling up their skin.

“you all know that I came out of Karasuno with Kageyama and Hinata, right? so when Kageyama called me earlier this week talking about how their manager was retiring at the end of their season and they were looking for trained manager to take her place, I found it a bit odd because I knew that he knew I was your manager.”

“what are you trying to say?” Hinata murmured, trying to ease the tension but failing easily, “what I’m trying to say Hinata, is that the contract Kageyama offered me doesn’t sound so bad considering I’d now be a detriment to the team because of my relationship with Sakusa.”

the team had a dead silence looming over them as they watched you sit down on your seat again.

“funny that you’re playing Schweiden on Thursday, right Sakusa?” you could see Sakusa’s face go even paler than it usually was as you didn’t bother to give him another look.

you watched as Samson walked into the gym, wondering why the team wasn’t practicing. you made up a lie knowing that if the real reason came out, it would cause an entire commotion that they couldn’t afford to have at the moment.

“oh, Hinata accidentally hurt his finger so I had to bandage him up,” you told Samson as he gave Hinata a look for confirmation. Hinata nodded, getting to his position and looking at Bokuto, who was still shook by the news you had said, “I’ll be in the club office getting their towels ready for later.”

Samson yelled at everyone to start practicing again as he blew the whistle.

a smirk was playing on your face as you knew what you had said had scared everyone to their core. a part of you did want to leave the team to see what Kodaira had to offer but you knew in your heart that you could actually never leave the team without feeling like the biggest piece of shit.

a bit later, you heard Samson blow the whistle indicating that their fifteen minute break started. you pulled up Hoshiumi’s contact and called him knowing that one of either Bokuto or Hinata would come into the room to ask you about earlier.

“hey! what’s up!” you said happily as you put him on speaker, “so, are you calling about Kageyama’s offer?” he asked excitedly. you rolled your eyes, seeing Hinata’s bright orange hair reflect on the glass in front of you.

“um, I was wondering if we could all meet up? at least you and Kageyama that is. Ushijima still kind of scares me,” you giggled making Hoshiumi chuckle along with you, “of course! we’re going to be in Higashiosaka until Saturday. we can meet up on Friday if you’d like to talk!” he exclaimed.

you saw Hinata’s scared expression through the glass and tried to hold in your laugh, “of course! I can take both of you to a restaurant that I always go to with the team,” you offered. you heard Hoshiumi’s excited yell, “I’ll talk to you later, okay? I’m in the middle of a practice but I felt like it was rude to leave you and Kageyama hanging.”

Hinata had heard enough.

he ran out to where the team was, hoping that Samson wasn’t in the gym to hear what he was about to say. lucky enough, he wasn’t.

“what are you so jumpy about now?” Sakusa asked him. Hinata glared at Sakusa, "I heard ( your name ) on the phone with Hoshiumi just now. she’s going to meet with him and Kageyama on Friday to talk about their offer to her,” he explained, his eyes never leaving the black haired boy.

Bokuto, on one of his rare moments of anger, looked over to Sakusa and shook his head, “you couldn’t just tell her how you felt when the two of you were alone? your assumptions might’ve costed us one of our managers!” he yelled.

Hinata and Atsumu remained quiet as Meian told everyone to drop the subject before you came out of the room to hear them talking about you. Atsumu walked over to Sakusa and leaned into his ear knowing that Sakusa hated being that close to anyone.

“you could have just asked me and I would’ve told you the truth. we’re just friends and I would never actually make a move on her. you’re my friend and you’re practically in love with her.”

Atsumu shook his head once more disappointedly before going to the bench for a water break.

Sakusa had felt the stares coming from his teammates as they all murmured to themselves to try and figure out a way to make you stay with the team. they all thought of you as their family and didn’t want another team to take you away from them.

a few days had passed since that fateful argument with Sakusa. while you did keep in touch with Atsumu, Hinata, and Bokuto, they had yet to bring up what you had told them that day.

the game against Schweiden came. you were getting ready in your apartment, blasting some music when you heard your phone going off. you looked down to see who it was and you were surprised to see that it was Kageyama of all people.

“hey Tobio! what’s up?” you said. “Hoshiumi was wondering if we could give you a ride to the Jackals gym?” he asked, “you know, so it isn’t too weird tomorrow?” you could hear the awkwardness radiating through his voice as he tried to talk as casual as possible.

“of course Kags. listen, we’ve been friends for years. why are you still so awkward with me?” he growled, calling you a baka before telling you he and Hoshiumi would be there soon, “goodbye Kags! see you in a bit!”

just as you were about to put your phone down, you saw that Atsumu was calling you.

“hey Miya, what’s going on!” you greet. you heard him and a few others in the car, hushing down, “do you need a ride to the gym? we’re passing your house on the way so we figured if you wanted, we could pick you up!” you looked down at yourself in the mirror knowing you could keep up your little charade of scaring Sakusa going even longer.

“sorry, Hoshiumi and Kageyama are actually picking me up but I’ll see you at the gym! we need to go over a few things before the game starts.”

Bokuto told you a hesitant goodbye as you hung up the phone. you could tell that you little plan was starting to affect Bokuto and the rest of the team.

you heard the horn of whatever Hoshiumi was picking you up in. you quickly grabbed your apartment keys and your bag before running out the door. Hoshiumi had his head popped out of the car, waving at your like maniac. Kageyama on the other hand sighed in disappointment.

“hey boys, how are you?” you asked them, jumping into the back seat. you hadn’t realized that Ushijima was in the back, quiet as ever. “oh, Ushiwaka, you’re here! I didn’t think you’d be accompanying them today.” you said, poking his side jokingly.

he hummed, giving you a nod with a small blush spreading across his face.

the entire time to the Jackals gym, Hoshiumi and Kageyama did most to the talking. most their talking consisting of the two arguing with each other as you and Ushijima talked quietly with each other. the entire time both of you talked, you hadn’t realized how cute Ushijima actually was. a bit stoic but regardless, you found his shy nature kind of adorable.

the gym was already packed with fans entering through the front and side gates. you told the boys a quick goodbye, running to the Jackals employee entrance to meet up with Atsumu and Hinata.

“hey, how was the ride with those losers?” Atsumu asked, poking fun at Kageyama and Hoshiumi, “it was fun. talked with Ushijima the entire time though. he’s actually more talkative than you think!” you exclaimed, the two of them noticing the small blush playing on your face.

“wait! do you have a thing for Ushijima?” Atsumu asked, dragging you to the corner so Hinata wouldn’t hear. you shook your head, “no, I just think he’s cute. but you know....everything with Sakusa, I could never just leave him for Adler’s or Ushijima,” you replied, “no matter how shitty he treats me, I guess you could say I like Kiyo a lot.”

Sakusa felt his heart drop hearing you confession. he really didn’t deserve you. after accusing of you of what he thought you did with Atsumu and then ultimately denying the offer from the Adler’s, he knew he owed you big time for it.

you walked out of the locker room, Atsumu still poking fun at your confession for Sakusa.

speaking of the devil himself, you saw Sakusa leaned up against the wall, hoping to catch your attention. you gave him a glance, not bothering to say anything to him but he caught your wrist, making Atsumu walk away semi awkwardly.

“what do you want Sakusa?” you asked, giving him a dirty look. he sighed, rubbing his thumb across your palm, “I’m still really upset at you and you don’t deserve to talk to me right now,” you growled.

he didn’t budge from letting you go and instead, placed a kiss on your forehead, feeling a bit awkward with giving you the kiss you deserved in the public. you sighed, not bothering to fight it anymore.

“Sakusa, I like you, really do but what you said hurt me and you’re going to have to work hard to get me to trust you again.”

Sakusa nodded understandingly.

“and I’ll work as hard as I have to make you trust me again.”

#haikyuu imagine #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #sports anime #sport anime #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa kiyoomi imagine #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x you

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tatooedlaura-blog · 4 years ago

Text

Little Gems

Hi all ... it’s been awhile ... but i just can’t leave Mulder and Scully alone for long ...

Sorry about that ... the kid has a new baking business she’s running out of our kitchen (she’s 16, btw) ... we COVID-quarantine finished our basement ... I rewrote my entire third novel ... I’ve had things to do :)

Love and hug and enjoy ...

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&&

Little Gems

It was the look that made her stumble on her words, stutter through two syllables, hesitate on the third before rallying to pull herself back to the courtroom. Face flaming hot in an instant, she hid her clenched fists below the wooden barrier and carried on, trooper that she was.

His look.

In the middle of her sentence, she’d looked at him, the quickest of glances to see his encouraging lip twitch or the barest of nods … instead, she’d gotten popping jaw muscle, flaring nostril, and furrowed brow. She’d done her stumble because, without thought to present day for half a second, she’d rewound the past two minutes in her head. What the hell had she done to deserve that pointedly angry look?

For the next 43 minutes, she steamed slowly while her demeanor revealed nothing, back to calm, cool, collected, cadence smooth, sentence structure sound. Finally free, she moved past Mulder, dodging the crowd in the hall and slipping through his fingers as he reached for her arm, elbow, to turn her, yell at her for not saying some theory or other of his that would have gotten the case thrown out but allowed Mulder the righteous indignation of his truth.

“Hang on.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

&&&&&&&&

Continuing through the crowd at a pace not meant for five o’clock on a Thursday afternoon near a Metro station, she didn’t care that he’d driven her there. She didn’t care that her ring of keys was in his pocket. She didn’t care that her stomach needed food, her brain needed a drink, her sweet tooth needed several dozen peanut M&Ms. She did care that she had approximately $10 in her pocket, which was more than enough to get her home and she had no room for anymore cares at the moment.

She always knew that house key tucked and forgotten behind her badge would come in handy.

She would be seeing his ass tomorrow and not a moment sooner.

Mulder, on the other hand, stood there watching her storm away. Not quite sure why she was so angry with herself over a few misspoken words but the set of her shoulders and the way she threw out the ‘see you tomorrow’ told him if he did indeed see or talk to her before tomorrow, he’d possibly and probably walk away with one less appendage, be it finger or more important things.

Watching her until she disappeared into the Metro Station, he noted it contained a Blue Line so, knowing she’d get home via either Foggy Bottom or Rosslyn station, he let her go, knowing she had a key behind her badge and her emergency cash behind that.

His mind wouldn’t let it go, however. She’d been good. Damn good. Until her stumble, which, for reasons unknown to him, had made her angry. She had hesitated on two words, taken a quarter second deeper inhale than usual before she gathered and continued. He highly doubted anyone but himself had noticed but given it was Scully, she probably imagined she’d screwed everything up completely.

He chewed on this as he returned to his car, unhurried because, regardless of if he ran or crawled, he’d still be stuck in some kind of traffic between here and there.

&&&&&&&&

Scully, for her part, hated the crowds in the Metro, disliked strangers pressed this close to her, shuffled together with the unwashed masses of society, tourist and native alike, all collectively tired from their day and frustrated same as she with the swaying train and the endless wait to put on comfortable clothing and take a deep breath.

And it afforded her time to analyze Mulder’s look.

Which is exactly what she did not need at this point in time.

&&&&&&&&&&

Both moved several times during the evening to pick up the phone, find out what the other was thinking but in the end, Mulder fell asleep on his couch, worried about her, and Scully fell asleep on hers, angry at him.

&&&&&&&&&&

He honestly thought the next day would be okay. She would have spent the evening picking apart her testimony and should have, logically, arrived at the conclusion that she’d done nothing to hinder anything. He would be telling her that today when she walked in, deciding at 5:42am, while shaving, that a little reassurance would be an appropriate thing.

She walked in still irritated but hiding it … not so very well ... but well enough to return his greeting and nod when he told her she’d done fine the day before and not to sweat the stumble.

Her mug got set no so gently down on the edge of the desk , tea splashing out the sides.

All right.

Plan B.

Waiting until she’d wiped up the carnage of her very own personal DC Tea Party, he handed her her keys from the day before, “come on. We’re taking the day off.”

With a sigh, “we can’t.”

“After your stellar week with Kersh and Skinner, you deserve diamonds and ice cream. Come on.”

Fuck it. It was Friday. Why not follow? God know, she could just as easily be irritated with him outside as she could be in the confines of the basement.

&&&&&&&&&

“Are you kidding?”

“When is the last time you touristed DC? I mean, like, looked around and went to stuff and stared at it and read the little signs and learned something from what you read on those little signs?”

Another sigh, “it’s been awhile.”

“Then come on.” They walked over to the Mall, then Mulder tuned them to the Museum of Natural History.

Seeing the building and the crowd, “Mulder, it’s going to be packed in there.”

“Not where we’re going.” Up the steps, weaving through throngs in shorts and gym shoes, flipflops and sunglasses, they stood out like a tandem sore thumb, leather heels and barely there hose, Trinity tie knot and tartan pattern socks.

They drew more than a few stares. Thank God he’d left his suit jack behind.

Once they’d dropped the donation fee and flashed badges for guns, he led her past the dinosaur bones and then up to the second floor. Even though she wasn’t exactly happy, she had to ask, “um, you realize you passed the T-Rex, right?”

“He’s not going anywhere, Scully. I’ll see him on the way out.”

She hadn’t been to the second floor since, well, she wasn’t even sure what was on the second floor or if she’d ever been there at all, to be honest. Mulder turned her when they got out of the elevator and before she knew it, she was in a quiet area, glass cases surround her, a few people milling but the majority still downstairs with the bones and fossils.

“There’s nothing like the gem room in the morning.”

She fell in love as she took her first good look around. Minerals and elements and crystals along the walls, lights dimmed in spots, a sign for the Hope Diamond beckoning. Looking up at him, “how long has this been here?”

He laughed, quietly of course, because the area felt akin to a church or other place where silence and low murmurs were preferred over screaming children and echoing chaos, “the building, since around 1910, but the contents,” pretending to do some heavy math, using all his fingers and some of hers just for fun, “longer than that.”

Her crank meter dropped like a rock but some remained, “one day I’ll find you funny.”

Taking her elbow and feeling happy she didn’t jerk away from him, he led her towards the wall, “first, I’m going to take you on a tour of the blue section.”

“Are we dispensing with scientific names today? Will it be the green shiny ones and the square yellow ones and the ones that look like table salt but will kill you instantly if you ever tried to put them on a piece of corn on the cob?”

“One day, I’ll find you funny as well.”

They wandered in somewhat comfortable silence, sharing the oft-comment of ‘this one’s pretty’, ‘this one’s three trillion years old’ …

“Three billion, Mulder.”

“Once you get above a couple million, it’s all just really damn old and doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Are you sure you passed your science classes in high school?”

“Cute girls helped me cheat.”

She didn’t doubt it.

&&&&&&&&

Round about an hour later, while looking intently at the diamonds, Scully finally had to ask, her anger drained away, an empty hole left behind waiting to be filled with some kind of explanation. Standing beside him, hand resting lightly on the edge of the case, she asked in a soft voice, “why did you get angry at me yesterday while I was on the stand?”

What?!

“What?!”

“Right before I humiliated myself by not being able to say the word ‘epiglotal’, I looked at you and you were pissed at me.”

What?!

“God, Scully, no. No. I wasn’t mad at you at all. You were doing great.” He was leaning into her at this point, the intensity radiating off him enough to send world leaders to their knees in fear and her cheeks to warm at his proximity, “I wasn’t mad at you at all, I swear.”

Still quiet, “then what were you mad about?”

Talking at the glass but catching her reflection beside him, he felt like an idiot but didn’t think this was the time to attempt a lie, “um, the little shit paralegal behind me was whispering to his buddy about things he could imagine doing to you if he could get you alone in the closet in the hall for a few minutes.” She stayed silent as he stood there, feeling his stupidity growing in leaps and bounds, until he had to do something. Moving his hand closer, he reached out until he found her pinkie, hooking it with his momentarily, “I didn’t mean for you to see that. I’m sorry I messed things up.”

Sliding her hand out from him a second later, she moved it to his back, running fingers along the indent of his spine, up and down, down and up, stopping to palm his side before letting her arm dangle between them, “it’s okay. I’m just glad you weren’t irritated with me. I should have asked you sooner, I guess, instead of letting things fester in my head.”

Her touch sent his skin buzzing, his hand always on her back, but hers rarely on his, and he knew she felt his quick breath in but both ignored that for now, “just to let you know, I’d have throttled him had we not been sitting in front of that many lawyers and the judge.”

She finally smiled, the left side of her mouth turning up, “I’d have liked to have seen that.”

Going for broke, he moved his hand to her elbow, then slid it down, working his fingers into hers, as he leaned in a second time, a little bit closer, a little bit quieter, “jealousy is an ugly thing, Scully, let me tell you.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it.” Finally, finally, finally meeting his reflection, “I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

Now warm from head to toe, “since I’ve already showed you the diamonds, how about I go get you that ice cream now?”

“In a few minutes.” Wrapping her free arm around the one holding her hand, she whispered over to him, “I kind of like it here.”

#msr #xfiles fanfic #x-files fanfic #no mama scully but peanut M&Ms so that's something #i miss the smithsonian and dc and travel #diamonds and ice cream #i think i like it here too #My writing

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jizemderler · 4 years ago

Text

Sasaeng {Kim Taehyung}

A/N: In which he thinks you´re a sasaeng fan and it leads to a bad outcome. Or does it? sjcjsdb It´s a little jumpy written sorry ´bout that

You were running towards the elevator because you saw the door open and wanted to reach it before it closed again. Getting the elevator in this hotel was a pain in the ass since it had 35 floors. As soon as you reached the elevator you stuck your hand out and stopped the doors from closing. You were breathing heavily when you stepped in and apologized immediatly. “Sorry everyone.” you said out of breath and when your eyes met the ones from man standing inside the elevator you swallowed hard. It was Kim Taehyung. You turned away immediatly and stared at the closed doors the whole time not looking at him on purpose. You glanced at the numbers and thanked god as you saw the 24 already glowing. Being a celebrity must suck, you thought while keeping your gaze glued to the door. Everybody always approaching you and the lack of privacy...gruesome. The elevator climed all the floors until it reached 24. A loud ping echoed through the tiny room and the heavy doors opened to a well lit hallway. The artist stepped out first since he was standing in front and you followed him. When he turned the same corner as you things got a little awkward because it looked like you were following him. Until he reached his door and you walked past him. Your room was at the end of the hallway and as soon as you reached your door you went inside. You let go your breath you didn’t even know you were holding. That was extremely nervewracking. To be honest though: He was a really handsome man. Even more handsome in person.

***

This elevator crap happened four times the following week and things got weirder everytime. You two did not greet each other and he kind of seemed annoyed all the time which was understandable considering his hectic lifestyle. It was a thursday afternoon and you went back to your hotel after you set last things in your gallery. You still had a few things to do to be prepared for your art exhibition tommorow. But you had all evening to do them. You walked to the elevator and pressed the button. As soon as the doors opened you stepped in and stood in the back. When you noticed that no one was coming you stepped forward to press 24 when the man himself walked in. You almost bumped into his chest but both of you froze in place. “Sorry.” you mumbled but he ignored it and stood in the back of the elevator. You moved along to press the button and the doors closed. Through the reflection of the metallic doors you saw him take out his phone and text something. You relaxed a little thinking that he forgot all about you when he spoke up.

“Hey, you.” his deep voice cut through the air like a sword. Your whole body tensed up when you heard his icy voice. “Pardon?” you said and turned around not believing that he just called you with “Hey you.”.

“What are you doing here?” he asked again as if he was entitled to something and your nervousness turned into something else. “Excuse me?!”

“There is no excuse for what you are doing no matter how much you like us. If you think that we’ll be flattered you’re wrong..”

“What are you...?” you tried to interrupt him but he just went over you like it was nothing.

“I tried to ignore you. But whenever I get into this elevator you’re here and you follow me to my floor. I guess I shouldn’t have gone to my floor the first time we met.”

“Are you out of..” you tried again but he wasn’t listening at all.

“Look nobody likes sasaeng fans. Nobody. You’re invading our privacy and that’s annoying. “

If the elevator wasn’t reaching your floor anytime soon you would jump this idiot and rip him to pieces. You glanced at the numbers and thankfully you were already at 23.

“Excuse me but..”

“No! There is nothing to excuse. I texted my manager and he called the cops.” he said and turned away from you and stepped forward.

“Wait what are you...?”

Ping! The doors opened and two men in black suits escorted him out while two police officers grabbed you by your arms and held you back from stepping outside.

“Excuse me! Let me go! I didn’t do anything!” you yelled now but there were looking unfazed. “Yeah yeah, they never do.”

***

“Sir please let me go. I have an exhibtion tommorrow and there are things I need to finish before I can open up my gallery. Please.” you tried to explain yourself at the station while the police officer was checking your data.

“I have a room on the same floor. I never followed him anywhere. I’m not even a fan I just know that they make good music. Please I have to go.” you practically begged and as time passed you stopped talking because there was no chance you would make it in time.

After they checked everything and found out that you were telling the truth it was 4am in the morning. You were mad, you were exhausted and you were angry as fuck. “We’re so sorry.” a higher ranking police officer, you assumed by his stars on his shoulders, stopped by and apologized in everyones name. “You just did your job sir. I won’t be able to hold my exhibtion tomorrow. I’ll send you an invitation if I ever get the chance again.” you said and faught back the tears.

***

It was 6am when you reached your hotel room and everthing in you told you to step down his door and punch him in the face. You told everyone in charge that you were not able to hold the exhibtion tomorrow and that you’d meet up with everyone to clear things up. You found a card on your desk with the logo of the hotel.

“We are very sorry for everything that happened. Please try to understand and forgive us. -BigHit Managemet.” was written on it. The card was attached to a bouqet of flowers and a basket of fruits. The miserable apology wasn’t even from him. They were fucking with the wrong woman.

You grabbed the phone and dialled the number of the reception.

“I have a message for room 2425. It’s really urgent and I advise you to tell them immediatly. If I don’t have an apology by tomorrow afternoon by the resident of the room himself, I will press charges and go to a newspaper. Have a nice morning.” you said and hung up.

***

You didn’t sleep at all. You cried the whole time thinking about your destroyed work and dreams to hold an exhibtion at the most famous galery in Korea. You must’ve cried yourself to sleep because when someone knocked on your door you jumped up from your bed. The clock beside your bed showed 1pm. You were totally disoriented and walked over to the door to open it. There he was with a bouqet of flowers in his hands nervously stepoing from one foot to the other.

“Hi.” he said with a tiny voice, all arrogance vanished. You didn’t answer him and walked back inside leaving the door open for him to walk in. You opened up the curtains and one window to let in a little fresh air. “Sorry for the mess. I came home at 6am.” you said while sitting down in the chair. He had walked in and closed the front door and now he looked like a lost puppy infront of you. “Take a seat.” you said while pointing at the couch infront of you.

Tae felt awfull. He could see how exhausted you were and you must’ve cried because your eyes looked puffy. He sat down and fumbled with the flowers he bought. “Look, I’m really sorry for what happened yesterday. I thought you were a Sasaeng-Fan. I got creeped out and overreacted. I’ll pay for another week in the hotel.” he offered thinking that he was doing something good.

“I was going to hold my first ever art exhibtion today t the most valued venue in Korea. But I couldn’t finish up because you got me arrested so I had to cancel everything. There is no way I’ll get that venue ever again.” you explained very calmly and looked into his eyes. His eyes went wide and horror went over his features as he realized what he did.

“I don’t need to stay another week, thanks for the offer though. I was very angry yesterday. If I had seen you, you would’ve had a reason to get me arrested believe me but there is no point in that. I just wanted you to know what you did. You might be famous and have good connections. Next time just talk to people before doing something so dramatic.” you said and got up from your chair. He did the same and put the flowers on the table because he was afraid that you would turn them down. “I’m really sorry.” he added and wiped his hands on his pants. “Is there anything I can do for you?” he asked but you shook your head.

“Greet your mates for me. Y’all are doing a great job.” you said and put on a polite smile while bringing him to the door.

***

Taehyung went back to his room and he could punch himself in his face. His bandmates were waiting for him in his room and when he explained everything he could see the disappointed faces. “Damn you fucked her over big time.” Hoseok said and Tae pinched the bridge of his nose. “I know.”

“I don’t think an apology does the trick here.” Namjoon said and Tae rolled his eyes. “I offered help but she refused and practically kicked me out.” “You can be happy that she didn’t push you out the window.” Jin said and Taehyung groaned. “I think I have an Idea.” Yoongi said and everyone looked at him. “Do we have plans for tomorrow?”

***

It was 8pm and you were standing behind the curtains at the venue to host your own exhibition. The manager called around 3pm to tell you that he had a free evening tomorrow night because someone cancelled last minute. Of course you took the chance and jumped at it. Now you were here, standing in black silky gown that brushed over the floor, with your heart pounding in your chest.

When you stepped out into the light you heared a round if applause and put on a very genuine smile. „Thank you for coming everyone!“ you started and prepared to give your speech.

***

„Damn she is beautiful.“ Yoongi whispered and Tae watched you from afar, how you talked to your clients with a sweet smile on your face. The dress was hugging your body in all the right places and your face was glowing from happiness. His heart ached at the picture of you in your hotel room that he caused. The boys entered the venue around half past ten so the main event could be over. They didn‘t want to draw all the attention and when they arrived everybody was already a little tipsy and admiring her art with their champagne glasses in their hands talking to each other in hushed voices.

Nevertheless when some people started recognizing the boys the conversations of your clients caught your attention. „Wow! What are they doing here?“ „Do they know the artist?“ You excused yourself from the people at your table and went to greet the newcomers. When you saw who it was you stopped in your tracks and watched them come towards you. All seven men were dressed in nice tuxedos and it was a celebration for your eyes. The tallest one reached out his hand as soon as they were close enough. „Nice to meet the artist behind all of this great work. I‘m Kim Namjoon.“ he inteoduced himself and gathered yourself together quickly because everyone was looking at you. As soon as you grabbed his hand to shake his hand a flash of light filled the room and a hundred photos were taken. You thanked god that you kept the reporters to a minimum. „It‘s an honour to habe you here.“ you answered with a polite smile and Taehyung immediatly saw that your smile didn‘t reach your eyes. „I hope you‘ll enjoy our evening. You can always approach me if you have questions about the pieces.“ you said and bowed your head before excusing yourself and leaving towards your table again.

„Oh man, she seems pissed.“ Hobi said as soon as you were far away enough and Jungkook nodded. „She‘s a clever woman. She added one and one together.“ Namjoon said and watched you explain one of your pieces to a tall man in an south african gown.

You were standing in the corner and tried looking relaxed when your asisstend rushed over to you and leaned in to whisper something into your ear. „The biggest piece is sold.“ „The name and phone number for the delivery.“ she added and gave you a card.

***

3 years later you were not only a succefull artist in Korea but your fame started spreading around the globe. You had fix art galleries in seven different countries. The venue you started at had your first art piece hanging in their lobby to greet their new clients.

You shuffled in bed as you slowly woke up and stretched your limbs. „Good morning.“ you heared a deep voice greet you from the other side of the bed and you turned your head around. There he was, hair tousled from sleep, eyes a little puffy from the late working hours but the happiest smile on his lips. „Morning.“ you said and leaned forward to place quick kiss on his lips. He wrapped his arms around you and pressed your body against his and rest his forhead against the crook of your neck. „When did you come in?“ you asked while brushing your fingers through his messy hair. „Around 4am.“ he yawned and you placed a kiss onto his hair while chuckling at how clingy he was. Your eyes scanned the room and you saw his stuff scattered around the room since he must‘ve changed in the dark to prevent you from waking up. When your eyes met the stupid painting at the wall the old feelings bubbled up inside of you and you pushed him away gently. He groaned and tried to pull you back but you didn‘t let him. „I told you a million times to get rid of that painting.“

„It‘s worth millions of dollars.“ he said without any emotion but you didn‘t care. „It‘s stupid and I hate it. I hate what it reminds me of.“ you said and he looked up at you. „It reminds me of our beginning.“ he pouted and you glared at him thinking of what happened. „Every newspaper talked about you guys going to an art gallery. You stole my show.“ you growled and he coughed into his fist and looked away. He wasn‘t getting out of this one. „You‘re art sold like crazy.“ he offered but that only made you cross your arms infront of your chest. „They said I took advantage of you and disregarded my hard work.“ you said and were getting more annoyed by the minute. „You didn‘t talk to me for a year. Even though I shot my shot several times.“ he with a raised brow. „I waited for the media to forget about our connection. I was not becoming the gold digger artist just because of you.“ you said and glared at the art piece.

„I hate it.“ you said and caressed you arm gently and placed a soft kiss against your skin. „If you hadn‘t gotten me arrested I would‘ve never had to try so hard to be recognized as an artist and not just „The artist BTS has visited“.“ you pouted and he smiled sheepishly.

„Yes but that would‘ve also meant that we would‘ve never met.“ he said and you rolled your eyes. „We had nothing to do with your success babe. It‘s all because of your talent. We just organized the venue.“ he let it slip and as soon as he said it he bit his tongue. „You did what?!“

***

You were putting the side dishes on the dinner table but for the boys it felt like you were throwing them at them. „Did we do something?“ Yoongi whispered towards Jin but he just shrugged his shoulders and looked at Tae. „Did you fuck something up?“ Jin asked him and he kept staring into his bowl until you came back from the kitchen. „If you ever mess with my life ever again, I‘ll make sure y‘all regret it.“ you said as you sat down and grabbed your chopsticks. „Now eat.“ you said and the discussion was over before it could start.

***

„Ugh..where are we going?“ you whined for a millionth time now and Taehyung smiled at your impatience. „You‘ll see.“

He parked the car in front of a big house and as you walked up the stairs you could see „Orphanage“ written on a sign. „What are we doing here?“ you whispered to Tae as you climbed the last stares. „Just wait and see.“ he said and led you inside of a room full of kids. They were all applauding as you came in and Tae lead you towards the stage where an old lady was smiling at you. Right behind you there was this big art piece of yours which had been hanging in your bedroom for the past two years. „I donated the painting to this orphanage. They can either keep it or sell it for however much they want.“ he whispered into your ear as you walked on stage and you looked up at him in disbelief. Your heart swelled with love as you watched this man infront of you. You spent the evening with the kids and they were totally oblivious to your fame. They were just happy to meet people who helped them.

***

You were watching him the whole ride back home and when he parked the car infront of the house you grabbed his hand and stopped him from getting out.

„I love you.“ you blurted out and his eyes widened at you confession. He already said it a few times but you were always were too scared to say it. But right now felt like the best time. „What?“ he said totally baffled and you smiled.

„I love you Kim Taehyung.“ you said it again and a devilish smiled appeared on his face.

„I can‘t believe I had to donate the most expensive thing in our home for you to say that. Is your love buyable?“ he joked and you let go of him immediatly.

„You‘re a fucking asshole.“ you cursed at him and opened the door to leave.

„Oh come on! It was a joke.“ he yelled after you but you slammed the door into his face.

„I love you more than I love that painting! You‘re my number one!“ he yelled after you while dangling out of the window of the car.

He was a stupid asshole. But he was your stupid asshole.

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sugiwa · 3 years ago

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Hi. I am the Advice Anon. Please ignore those asks! I am so sorry for spamming your ask box. I still need help, so I’ll paste the entire thing over here. Again, sorry and thank you! Have a great day!

My reply and the full ask are below:

Hello! I hope you’ve been having a great day so far. This is probably unlike all of the other asks you get on a daily basis, author. However, I am in dire need of help, and I have turned to you. Before I begin, I want to apologize in advance, as this ask is going to be long. Now, like I said before, I need some help. You see, I am a freshman in high school, and school hasn’t even been going on for a full 10 weeks (a quarter), and I am already in a huge, messy, sticky situation. You probably already know that in high school, you need a certain number of credits in each field to be able to graduate. I am going to be extremely vague about this because it doesn’t really matter, and I’d really like to remain anonymous, if you know what I mean. One of the fields is World Languages and Visual Arts. Obviously, I am not talented enough to do Visual Arts, so I opted for World Languages instead. My teacher for the course I chose this year… she’s nice. Really kind, and I love that she makes learning a whole new language and culture, which is extremely hard, so much fun. And the fact that she’s one of the nicest teachers I know makes the rest of this so, so painful for me. 4 days ago, for me, was a Thursday. In this class, we had a vocab quiz that day (background info: two days before every quiz, my teacher posts a practice quiz to be done before class starts). I don’t really want to discuss what happened, as it still brings tears to my eyes, but I will give you a vague summary of what was going on. Basically, I couldn’t access my quiz (it was online), so my teacher told me to come in after school to re-do it. I was supposed to close down my computer and work on homework from another class, but instead of doing so, I worked on the practice quiz. And… this was considered cheating, because I was getting extra practice in before taking the quiz– something that the other students didn’t get, you know? My teacher saw my computer screen, and told me that she’d talk to me after school, and she’d be calling home. I couldn’t concentrate for the rest of the class, because I was afraid of what might happen when she called home. After school, she told me to speak with her, and be honest about it. When cheating happens, at our school, the teacher will write us up for Academic Dishonesty and give it to the administration, who then decides the consequences. My teacher had told me that if I was honest with her, she wouldn’t write my up; she’d just give me a zero on the quiz and call home and tell them what I did. I was honest with her, because like I said before, I was afraid. Once I told her everything that happened, she told me that I could call home, let them know what happened myself, and I’d be off the hook (with a zero on the quiz, of course). So, I called home, like she had asked of me, but… they didn’t pick up. I told her that they didn’t pick up, and she told me that it was fine, and that she’d talk to my parents in-person before they picked me up from school. I’m not going to lie, that terrified me more than calling home. I don’t really remember what happened after that, because I was too busy crying, but I do remember that she mentioned something about me doing this before, and that it was not OK to do it the second time, but she’d let me off the hook. The thing is, I am 100% sure I haven’t done this before… or maybe she just didn’t approach me the first time. I told her that I didn’t do this before, and she told me that I was lying again, and began to write me up. I told her that I didn’t mean to do this, and that I was sorry, but she told me to stop lying. She said that she DID approach me the first time I did this, and that I was rude to her then. This brought tears to my eyes– my kind of favorite teacher telling me that I was rude to her. You see, I didn’t grow up here, and although I’ve lived here for 4 years, I am not used to the way people interact here. It was very different where I grew up. For example, you didn’t ask each other how their day was, or what they did during their day, unless you were REALLY curious or concerned, because that was considered nosy and rude. So, I tend to be unintentionally rude, and completely oblivious to it; I have no idea when I’m being rude or not, unless someone specifically says so. I also don’t really understand people well, so that’s a huge problem. So… hearing this from her, really hurt. I told her that I didn’t intend to be rude, and I was trying my best to change (I mean, I was & am reading a book to teach me etiquette and all), and she replied with “that’s good to hear”. Then, when my parents came to pick me up, she talked to them, and even asked one of my parents to walk with us to the Administration Office to turn in the write up. Stuff happened, I got called into the Assistant Principal’s office, and now I have a zero on my quiz (and my homework activity that I never finished), Saturday School, and a black mark on my record. But the thing is�� that’s not what I’m concerned about at all. Sure, getting my grades up in time for Progress Reports is going to be an extremely hard task, and Saturday School is going to leave a huge black mark on my record, but that’s not what I’m worried about. My grades have been fractured, but so has my relationship with this teacher. I feel as though she hates me now, that she has lost all trust in me. (Background info: our school does Odd and Even days, so I have half of my classes on one day and half on the other, so that means that I didn’t face my teacher at all on Friday) 3 days ago, on Friday, when I went to school, it was an average day. It would have been an amazing day, had it not been for the situation I was in. All I could think about that day was my World Language teacher. And just thinking about her, and about that classroom, it… gives me a bit of anxiety. This is where I need your help. What would you do if you were in my situation? I really want to repair my relationship with my teacher, because I know that she’s really important; we’re going to be on the same campus for the next 4 years of my life, and even more importantly, she’s going to be my teacher for the next 8 months. I want to graduate with good grades, but more importantly, I want to graduate without holding a grudge against my teacher. I want her to like me, and I want to gain her trust again. Today is a Sunday for me, and I have to go back to school tomorrow, and I have her class then. A part of me is really scared to go to school, a part of me is really angry at my teacher for reporting me (even though it was the right thing to do), and a part of me wants to ditch school tomorrow, or even drop out or transfer from her course, all because I don’t want to face her after I did the wrong thing. It’s not only that, either. I’ve also been avoiding my friends. Would you like to know why I am confiding in awesome strangers on the internet anonymously instead of letting my friends know what’s going on? It’s because I’m afraid that they won’t like me anymore, and they’d ditch me or something. They’re amazing people, and I know that they won’t do that, but a part of me is still paranoid. I’ve been avoiding my friends since Friday, barely talking to them at school, and texting them a little bit in our group chat. They don’t really suspect anything, but that’s good. And that’s why I am asking you. Not just you, but actually anyone who sees this, if they helped me, I’d really appreciate it. I really need help moving forward in this situation, and I’m desperate for help. My parents don’t understand the situation I’m in, and I’m too scared to talk to my friends about it, so I’d really appreciate the help. It’s OK if you don’t reply to this, author. I know that this doesn’t affect you in any way, so you’re not obliged to help me. I’d like to thank you for taking the time from your day to read these extremely long asks. Have a great day. P.S: I absolutely love What Heroes Do! Izumi is such a well written character, and sometimes, I see myself in her. The way she handles situations is so inspirational! And your writing skills are top-tier! My best friend and I actually started writing a book 4 years ago (I mean, we wrote for one month in 6th grade, and then spent one day in 8th grade editing it, and we’ve only got a prologue and 1.5 chapters done, so… clearly, we aren’t doing a good job lol), and you’ve inspired me to go back to that book and re-do it! Thank you so much for being such an inspiration and an idol of mine! Ilysm ❤️

sugiwa:

I wanted to take the proper time to reply to this. I think any adult willing to hold a grudge against a child is in the wrong. You clearly made a mistake and are now taking steps to improve and learn from it. Additionally, I think teachers tend to forget how much stress students are under in their academic and private lives, so a mistake should be used as an opportunity to teach not punish. I don’t think that you should worry about what this teacher thinks of you. Your teacher didn’t believe you, despite you telling them the truth. No matter how kind or nice someone is, their behavior towards you will always reflect their inner thoughts. If you’ve clearly made a mistake, you should fight to prove that. It’s not as if you intended to ‘cheat,’ given the situation we’re all in with the pandemic, online classes and quizzes are the norm. These kinds of things probably happen regularly. Additionally. I don’t think you need to concern yourself with being rude. My culture is rather blunt and when I first moved here, people weren’t fans of brutal honesty, so it was a big cultural shock. If people aren’t willing to learn about your culture and understand, then I don’t think they’re people worth hanging out with. Lean on your friends, I don’t think they’d make a big deal over a couple of mistakes and if they do, then it might be worth reconsidering why you were friends with them.

Thank you for your kind words about the story and I really hope everything works out for you!!

#submission #anon

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whitesparrows97 · 4 years ago

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Cat’s Cradle – Part 2

Pairing: Cat Hybrid!Yoongi x Human!Reader/Min Yoongi x Reader (slight Namjoon x Reader)

Warnings: This whole series contains angst und explicit sexual content. Also I’m sorry but Namjoon is kind of a dick in this story. There’s harassment and even more guys who make snide comments in this chapter.

Word Count: 4.8K

Note: I would not have expected so much feedback at all! Thanks to everyone who reads this story and maybe even left a comment. I am happy about every feedback, no matter how small it is! I hope you enjoy this chapter as well. The third chapter will follow on Wednesday! Have a nice remaining weekend or a good start into the new week, depending on where you live!

Previous / Next

(gif by: btsofficial on giphy.com)

You were glad it had happened Friday because you spent the whole weekend in bed. You didn’t even go out to take a shower and knew that if Yoongi found out, he’d probably wrinkle his nose. But he probably didn’t even care anymore. You heard him and his girlfriend laughing in the living room a few times and cooking together, but you didn’t dare to go outside. The fear of running into one of them and having to justify your current state was too strong.

You looked at your current state in the small mirror next to your door and examined your sore eyes and dried lips, which had been chapped by the salty tears. If you did not know better, you would think you were sick. Even though you felt just as shitty as if you were.

Every laugh of Seo-yeon only made you curl up more in your blanket and pull the pillow over your ears so you wouldn’t have to listen to the sound anymore. Because with every laugh you became a bit sadder.

But that changed when almost a week later you sat at an important presentation for work. Work the past week had almost been torture, but you tried to look at it positively, that you didn’t have to bear Seo-yeon’s laughter anymore. Instead, you were pierced by Seokjin’s questions almost every day. You knew he meant well and was worried. However, his constant indirect reminders of Yoongi’s and your fight didn’t help you to forget it. So the fact that your boss gave you such an important task at that time was both a curse and a blessing. That’s why you found yourself in your bed on Thursday night.

Annoyed you looked at the screen of your laptop, which you balanced on your thighs. If it weren’t for the constant background noise you would probably have dozed off long ago. The warm blanket and the comfortable pillow in your back didn’t make it easier to keep your eyes open. But every time you closed your eyes for even a moment, the giggling in the room next to you brought you back to reality.

On the one hand, this was a good thing, so that you stayed awake and didn’t drift off into the land of dreams. On the other hand, the sounds also disturbed you from being productive. Still you had hardly written anything into the presentation slides, you noticed with an annoyed sigh. You had to finish the presentation by tomorrow morning and still be reasonably fit to survive the presentation itself. The client you would be presenting to was important and it was a big responsibility on your shoulders not to mess it up.

You took a deep breath to get enough oxygen back into your brain and tried to concentrate again. Okay, you thought to yourself when you focused on the monitor again, you could do this. You typed a word when you flinched because of a loud moan.

He couldn’t be serious.

Your eyes fell on the small clock in the corner of the monitor and you closed your eyes for a moment in despair. It was already after midnight. A short moment of panic overcame you that you would not be able to finish the presentation in time. You had already given up on the idea that you would show up well rested for the appointment. The only question was whether you would be able to show anything at all. So far you had put the introduction to the topic and the first sub-topic in the document for the presentation. You still had to think about the remaining five points and your conclusion. Not to mention your text itself.

You tried it with headphones and loud music to suppress the sounds from the room next door. But that didn’t really help either, because you couldn’t concentrate on your own thoughts anymore. Frustrated you ripped them off your head again and threw them to the end of the bed.

“Ah, Yoongi–Ah!” the female voice reached you and you covered your ears for a moment.

That Yoongi was so cold to you was one thing. One thing you still couldn’t handle but had to get used to, eventually. But the fact that he apparently didn’t care at all that you were still living in the apartment, made your heart ache. Even if he didn’t know that you had an important presentation the next day, he knew very well that you had to get up early for work. His behaviour was disrespectful and he was probably more than aware of that.

It was no use, you had to do something. Otherwise you would go crazy. You took your hands off your ears and immediately his girlfriend’s moaning surrounded you again. But what was even worse and almost made you stumble when you jumped out of bed as fast as possible was Yoongi’s moaning, which mixed with hers now. You really didn’t need to hear that.

Your bare feet stumbled across the wooden floor and you had to suppress a shiver as your hand clasped the cold door handle. The hallway was dark and with quick steps you walked the few meters to Yoongi’s room door. For a moment you hesitated as you listened to the sounds from inside. You put yourself in their position and would not want to be disturbed during this act. On the other hand, you and Namjoon were always considerate of Yoongi, at least when it came to the late evening hours.

There was no such thing as consideration in this case.

“Yoongi! Harder! Fuck me harder!” You had to suppress a momentary gag reflex when you gathered your courage and knocked on the door. You paused for a moment, but the two of them went on as before. Apparently, they hadn’t heard you. You knocked again, this time much louder.

“Yoongi!” you shouted, and this time the sounds stopped. You took advantage of the opportunity when they were quiet. “Can you keep it down? I have a presentation tom–” but you couldn’t even finish your sentence before you could hear Yoongi’s strained sounds again and how the bed crashed against the wall with every one of his thrusts.

For a moment, you just stood in the dark, cold hallway, stunned. In this moment you realized that as distant as Yoongi had been to you the last days, you had completely underestimated his behavior and feelings towards you. He wasn’t just a bit averse to you and was angry at you because of your argument; he apparently hated you. He didn’t care what happened to you at all.

When you realized this, you felt as if your veins were freezing to ice. You felt your eyes start to burn and cleared your throat to loosen the lump in your throat. Your grief mixed with anger as you pushed the handle down and slammed the door against the wall with a loud bang. Somewhere along the way you heard Yoongi’s girlfriend scream and saw out of the corner of your eye as she tried to pull the blanket over her naked body. But your attention was elsewhere.

Yoongi lay over her between her legs and supported himself on the bed with his arms next to her head. He had paused in his movement and looked at you between his sweaty blond hair that hung in his face. For a moment no one said anything and you just looked at each other. Then you saw Yoongi raise an eyebrow and his neutral expression gave way to an inquiring, almost scornful expression. “Can’t you see we’re busy,” he asked and his voice sounded harsh and at the same time so indifferent that it took your breath away.

For a moment you couldn’t utter a word when your mouth opened and only hot air came out. You had to pull yourself together not to let your gaze slip over his trained back, which was only illuminated by the moonlight coming in through the window. You also tried not to look at his bushy tail, which had wrapped around the thigh of his girlfriend, who had her legs firmly wrapped around his hips. You concentrated on the words that were trying to form in your head and closed your eyes briefly.

“So? Get out and close the door behind you,” Yoongi ordered you and you flinched at his tone of voice.

You looked at him and couldn’t hold back your despair and sadness any longer. “Can you please be a bit quieter? I have an important presentation to prepare for tomorrow and I can’t concentrate,” you said quietly, but you knew that at least he must have heard it with his sensitive ears, which turned in your direction when you spoke.

Yoongi was silent for a moment and you hoped that he would nod and maybe apologize. But the next words shattered your heart.

“I don’t care. It’s not my problem.” He looked at you for a moment before he started moving again. His girlfriend under him made moves to stop him. She was visibly uncomfortable with the whole situation. You had to suppress the sobbing that wanted to climb up your throat and without another word you turned around 180 degrees and quickly left the room. The door slammed shut with a loud bang.

On the way back to your room you could no longer hold back the sobbing. With tears running down your cheeks and a broken heart, you reached for your phone and dialed Namjoon’s number. But with every ringing your heart sank further. After a few seconds, the mailbox answered. Angry and hurt, you hung up and stood in your room with hanging shoulders. You brushed across your face once before swapping your sleeping shirt for black jeans and a white blouse. You grabbed your laptop, phone and keys and took a quick look in your mirror.

With watery eyes and shining cheeks your reflection stared back at you. Even you could see in your eyes how hurt you were. Yoongi and you had known each other for years and just because you had made a stupid comment, Yoongi threw that time away. But you weren’t just angry with Yoongi but also with yourself. Maybe you could have done more to save your friendship. But it always took two to tango.

You faltered once more at Yoongi’s door, but they seemed to continue right where you had interrupted them. With a heavy heart you left the apartment, got into your car and drove back to the office through the darkness. The lights of the city and the few cars coming towards you blurred behind the veil of tears to an indefinable mass. Now it wouldn’t be easier for you to prepare for the presentation if all you could think of were Yoongi’s hurtful words.

Eight hours later, you felt as if your eyes had shrunk to half from the light of the monitor. As you rubbed them and painfully squeezed them together to wet them again, you went over the course of the presentation once more in your mind. Greet them, introduce the topic, introduce the company and explain why they were the right partner for you, present the two possible strategies you had considered and then draw the conclusion. You talked yourself into believing that the presentation would not be too difficult. Within an hour you were probably out of the appointment and all the stress and the sleepless night would soon be forgotten.

“Good morning,” a voice tore you away from your thoughts when you prepared your laptop, a notepad and a pen as if remote-controlled. You looked up and saw Seokjin giving you an encouraging smile. “You look like you haven’t slept at all. Are you very nervous?”

You suppressed the sigh. You were hoping that the water you splashed in your face a few minutes ago would make you look more awake. You also tried to give him a smile, which probably looked more tortured and tired. “I’m fine. I’ll work it out.” But even you could tell from your voice you were anything but confident. The sleepless night slowly caught up with you, you had been ready to go to sleep hours ago.

“Did you stay up all night?” Seokjin asked anxiously, who had dropped himself on his seat next to you and turned on his computer. Slowly, your colleagues arrived and the silence that had surrounded you for the last hours gave way to a loud mix of murmuring, laughing and clicking of both mouse and keyboard.

You shrugged your shoulders hoping to appear nonchalant. “This had to be done, the presentation is more important than my eight hours of sleep.”

“Y/N,” he rebuked, looking at you with a sad look. “We all know how important the presentation is and that we get the client on our side.” You opened your mouth to say something, but Seokjin raised one hand and you closed your mouth again. “But that doesn’t justify putting your health at risk.”

You rolled your eyes and gave him a smile. “It was just this once.” Your head spun to the side when you saw your boss waving you over. Showtime. “Okay, I gotta go. Cross your fingers for me,” you threw over your shoulder to Seokjin before you disappeared around the corner and walked quickly towards the conference room. The door was open and you heard your boss making small talk with the customers.

Before you entered the room, you smoothed down your blouse once more and straightened up a bit. You entered the room with straight shoulders and looking forward. A bald, somewhat strongly built man, about in his fifties, was closest to you. With a smile, you walked up to him and bowed. “Mr. Choi? Pleased to meet you.” As you straightened up, you looked into the puzzled face of the man before you.

“I think you’re mistaking me,” he said, and his voice sounded cold, annoyed. Immediately you were reminded of someone else and the image from last night burned itself back into your head. “I am Mr. Kim.”

“I am Mr. Choi, Miss…” said the man sitting next to him, looking at his papers. “Y/L/N?”

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks and you had the desire to turn on your heels and walk right back out the door. “I’m so sorry!” you apologized directly and bowed again.

“Well, as long as you’re not so forgetful in your presentation, everything’s fine,” replied Mr. Kim and turned his back on you. With wobbly knees you went forward and connected your laptop to the beamer. You felt the need to chew your thumbnail as you looked at the blue background projected onto the wall. A habit that you developed as a child and carried over into your college days. It had taken months to get rid of it and in stressful situations the desire came back. That must have been how alcoholics felt when they relapsed after years of abstinence.

With a beating heart you stared at the monitor and then threw a nervous glance at the beamer. “Is there a problem?” asked Mr. Kim and your head shot up.

Quickly you shook your head. “No, not at all. The Beamer sometimes takes a little longer.” You tried to throw a smile at the two men, but you could see from the corners of your eyes how your boss looked at you disapprovingly.

“You usually take care of everything before a presentation,” you heard one of the men murmuring. The subsequent laughter of all three men made you feel even more insecure and with shaking fingers you opened the settings of the computer. You breathed a sigh of relief when your presentation was finally projected onto the wall behind you. You grabbed your index cards on which you had made notes so that you didn’t forget anything. With an iron grip you clasped them while greeting the customers once again.

“Okay, let’s start with the subject right away,” you started and moved on to the next slide. Your heart dropped when you read the headline and realized that the order was not right. You pondered for a second which tactic to follow before you looked up with an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, I meant, of course, by introducing our company.”

With sweaty palms, you tried to find the right index card. “Our company… our company has years, uh, decades of experience. We are dedicated to the well-being of our clients…” Where was that stupid index card? You’d already gone over the little deck of cards twice. Ah! There it was! Relief mingled with horror as you lost your grip on the cards and one by one they slipped from your hands.

Your cards lay on the floor, spread all over the place, and for a moment you looked at them in shame. You had the feeling that the room was starting to spin as you forced yourself to look at the monitor again.“W-We p-put the well-b-being of our c-customers first,” you stuttered, but while you were saying the beginning of the sentence, you knew you didn’t know what to say. Your mind went blank. Your head was empty and you didn’t even know how to breathe properly. Your breath seemed incredibly loud as you stood in the quiet room. And you were incredibly warm. You could already feel the sweat under your armpits pressing through your blouse.

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly and turned your gaze to the floor. You didn’t dare to look at the men. “My mind just went completely blank.” After that sentence left your lips, your head suddenly got incredibly loud. Thoughts rushed in, calling you names and telling you everything you’d screwed up in the last few minutes. No one said a word as you just kept staring at the tabletop in front of you.

“Is there something else coming or is that it?” asked one of the men. You didn’t even have the urge to look up and see who was asking the question.

“And that’s exactly why we don’t let women lead important presentations,” said the other. “They’re just no good at anything more than secretaries.”

You knew you should be angry about such a sexist comment. But in that moment you really felt too incapable of being good for anything. Your chest tightened more and more every second and you felt the piercing looks of the three men in front of you.

“Well, I can think of one other thing,” said the other one again and a dirty laugh followed. You felt your eyes begin to burn, but you did not want to give them this victory. For this reason you pulled yourself together and concentrated on holding back your tears. You noticed a movement from the corner of your eye and flinched when suddenly your boss stood next to you.

“Into my office,” he mimicked soundlessly with his mouth before pushing you decisively aside towards the door. “I’d better take over before we stand here for hours,” he addressed the men. With your head hanging, you almost sprinted out of the room. When the door behind you fell into the lock, you took a deep breath. The barrier between you and the men lifted a weight off your shoulders. Yet you still felt the need to burst into tears.

You pulled yourself together and on the way to your boss’s office you ignored every look of your colleagues who stared at you. You saw in their faces the question why you were not at the meeting. If you were unlucky, the answer would have spread throughout the entire office by this afternoon after lunch.

While you sat in your boss’s office in the uncomfortable chair waiting for him, all kinds of thoughts went through your head. You wished that you could call Yoongi at that moment. He would give you a pep talk and promise to make a movie tonight. Maybe he’d bring some food when he got home or you’d cook together. Your laughter when Yoongi made one or two sarcastic remarks would echo through the apartment and Yoongi would toss you the smile you loved so much about him.

You almost had to sob as you leaned your head into your hands like a little pile of misery. You missed him. You could hardly put into words how much. Your feelings even pushed the shame you felt because of the messed up presentation into the back of your mind. You just wanted your little, bad-tempered hybrid back, who had a soft spot for you. Even though he would never admit that. You wiped the tears from your face when you thought that you would probably never laugh so carefree with Yoongi again. Or even laugh with him. You’d be satisfied if he even talked to you at all.

You flinched and could barely avoid a surprised outcry when suddenly the door behind you was pulled open. Your boss didn’t look at you when he slammed the door shut behind him and marched past you to his desk chair. Wordlessly he put your laptop on the desk, which you had already forgotten. Your boss typed on his keyboard a few times and you tried to figure out his facial expressions.

He was angry, that was no surprise. Still, you hoped that he had been able to turn the conversation around and convince the customers. More seconds passed and still your boss did not say a word. Nervously you folded your hands together and looked at him waiting. Your gaze fell impatiently on the big clock behind him and you wondered how long he was going to keep on doing this.

So you cleared your throat carefully. “I’m incredibly sorry–“

“Save it,” your boss interrupted you coldly and turned his gaze towards you for the first time. There was no empathy in his eyes, not a trace of compassion. “Haven’t you prepared yourself at all?”

You straightened up in your chair, now that he seemed ready to talk. “Yes, I did!” you justified yourself. “I worked through the night so that I could–“ Again you were interrupted.

“I don’t care if you worked through the whole night and didn’t get your beauty sleep, princess,” he said and became louder with every word. “If sleep is so important to you, maybe you should get a job in a horizontal position. After all, that’s where you get paid for doing nothing.”

Your eyes widened at his remark, but you couldn’t get a word out. The feeling of a few minutes ago spread to your chest again as you stared at him with eyes wide open. “Your behavior was completely unprofessional, from beginning to end. I have never been so ashamed of any of my employees in my life! And I’ve been working in this position for thirty years, I’ve met some stupid and incompetent people, let me tell you!” He literally screamed now and you wanted to merge with your chair. Your boss stared at you breathlessly for a moment as he organized his thoughts. The next sentence was worryingly quiet and almost spoken with indifference. “Pack your bags, I’ll give you an hour, then you’re out of the building.”

It took you a moment to understand his words. Yet they didn’t make much sense in your confused mind. “Does this mean I’m…”

“Fired, yes,” confirmed your boss and turned his attention back to his screen. For him the subject was over.

“But I can explain it all,” you brought up between clenched teeth. “I-I really tried hard to get the p-presentation done in time. B-But my roommate was incredibly loud…” The rest of the sentence got stuck in your throat when you saw the look on your boss’s face.

You felt like prey, just before the predator took the lethal leap, so intense was the short silence between you. “Out.” A word so softly spoken you could barely hear it. You didn’t react quickly enough when you slowly rose from your seat. “Out!” he shouted this time and you had the feeling that the room was shaking from the volume.

You grabbed your laptop and left the office as quickly as possible. On the way to your workplace, or rather your former workplace, you turned your eyes to the floor. The piercing looks of the others told you that the cat was already out of the bag and everyone knew what had happened in the last minutes. The muttering in the open-plan office died down and you felt the look of every employee on you as you went to your desk and started to clear your desk.

Seokjin, who had jumped up directly from his seat at your sight, stood next to you struggling for words. You reached for one of the small boxes in which you had collected unimportant documents and thought for a moment before you poured the contents into the trash can. “Y/N,” Seokjin said at that moment when he noticed your rigorous manner. “What happened?”

“As if you don’t already know that, Seokjin,” you answered him and he flinched at the cold tone of your voice. For a short moment you felt guilty, but you had other problems and thoughts right now. Your eyes fell across your desk and you threw everything that belonged to you into the box. You grabbed the photo that was right next to your monitor and a little wistfully stroked your finger over the glass of the picture frame.

The photo was from college and was taken at a party in your first year. Yoongi had visited you on campus for a few days and talked you into going to a party. He had always emphasized how important it was for you to make friends. You had just laughed and said that he was more than enough for you as a friend. Just a few months later, he’d left his college and transferred to yours. Even though this one didn’t have the best program and he would have had much more fun at his other college, it was more important to him to spend the three years with you than to go to a good college.

The two people in the photo looked at you smiling and you remembered with a little smile that you were already very drunk at that time. Not even an hour later Yoongi had to carry you back to your room because you were too drunk to stand upright. But he had to drag you to the party so it was his own fault.

“What happened between you two?” Seokjin pulled you out of your thoughts and your smile faded.

You stayed still for a moment and stared at the photo. “I’m stupid and he hates me now.”

Seokjin shook his head in protest. “You’re neither stupid nor does he hate you. I can’t imagine that.”

You laughed for a moment. “Yes, he does. And I can’t even blame him. He does everything for me and I treated him like a piece of shit. Well, that’s life,” you said the last part almost whispering, before you dropped the frame in the box and without thinking about it, you shoved the whole box in the trash can as well. You didn’t even flinch when the contents fell out of it and joined the papers, handkerchiefs and old food leftovers. You would never need those things again anyway.

Seokjin beside you drew in the air sharply. “Y/N! You can’t just throw it all away!”

But you ignored him, put on your jacket and slung your bag over your shoulder. You looked at the man in front of you with an encouraging smile. “It was very nice to meet and work with you, Seokjin,” you started and held your hand out to him as a farewell gesture. “I am very grateful for the job and hope you are not angry with me for messing up. I’m sure I’ll see you again when I visit Ellie.”

Seokjin stared incredulously at your outstretched hand for a moment before he hesitantly grabbed it. “Take care,” you said finally and left the open-plan office. As you stood in the elevator, you fished your phone out of your jacket pocket. Namjoon still hadn’t called back. You were almost disappointed if it would have been the first time you had needed him and he had been unreachable. You dialed his number as you walked across the parking lot of the office building, but he still didn’t pick up. Then you had to see for yourself what was going on, you thought, and started your car.

#yoongi x reader #cat hybrid!yoongi #hybrid!yoongi x reader #bts smut #bts hybrid au #hybrid yoongi x reader #bts angst #bts fic #bts fanfic #cat’s cradle

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