#ITS EVERYONE'S FAVOURITE SONG ABOUT SOFT DRINKS AND NOTHING ELSE!!!
Text
🎵so slot your pennies in the vending machine of love🎵
#almost forgot to post this lol#ITS EVERYONE'S FAVOURITE SONG ABOUT SOFT DRINKS AND NOTHING ELSE!!!#the stupendium fanart#the stupendium#vending machine of love#onlycans
26 notes
·
View notes
Text
the rest is confetti
JJ Maybank x fem!Reader
[2.4k words] An insight on yours and JJ’s life, from the day you met to the day you made it.
He’d been about thirteen years old when he went to his first party. It was at the Boneyard, so no biggie, but it was the first one he’d ever attended for real, no sneaking in with John B and getting shit on by the older teens or nothing.
So JJ had worn clean clothes (not his), fixed his hair and had chewed gum the entire walk so when he’d kiss a cute touron girl, his breath wouldn’t smell bad. They’d gotten the invite through the eldest boy of the family that lived right across the Château, the Routledges’ humble abode—though JJ treated it like it was his—and John B had made fun of JJ for being so eager. “This is when our life starts, bozo,” the blonde had told his best friend in his defence.
The party was a ruckus: crumbled red solo-cups in the hot sand; vivid flames outstretched, touching the midnight sky; honey-melon moon basking the teenagers’ faces in a drunk limelight. Everyone was either drinking, smoking weed or doing hard stuff behind the sandbanks, and music was blasting loudly through multiple speakers placed strategically around the beach.
Enjoying one of his favourite songs and the island heat in the summertime, JJ had lit a joint and went to sit by the shore. He was pissed because John B has found himself a girl to talk to before he did, and he cursed him mentally for leaving him alone at their first party ever. The blonde boy had used up his false bravado on half the girls attending, and it had gotten him absolutely nowhere. He took another draw of the joint only to find it empty, so he let out a loud groan in frustration before tossing it away.
Loud laughter interrupted his fit and he looked up to find you standing in front of him, showing all your pearly teeth like a trophy. You had your hands on your hips, creasing the soft fabric of the fitted yellow sundress you wore, and thick curls that fell in cascades over you shoulders. In truth, you might have been the prettiest girl he has ever encountered in his entire lifetime. Maybe he was being dramatic, but he was just a kid anyway.
“You look like you’re having the time of your life,” you joked. Successfully, your sarcasm coaxed a laugh out of him and you could have sworn its boyishness was the most attractive thing you’d heard all night.
JJ flipped you off, then introduced himself. You extended an arm out for him to grab, then pulled him off the sand and by the bonfire, where his best friend was glancing at him with wide eyes and wiggling his brows suggestively. You’d laughed again and JJ melted at the sound and when he asked you to dance, you found yourself unable to deny his proposal.
By the end of the night, you’d shared two joints in addition to the one he started the night with, gained a new scar on your knee from where you fell in the sand after he tried to dip you and made a friend for the rest of the summer. You exchanged numbers just as your school friends urged you to go back home. Right as you got in the car, he had texted you, not wasting a second, asking you if you wanted to go surf in the morning.
From then on, you and JJ had become inseparable. Joint at the hip, really. He introduced you to the rest of his friend group, the Pogues, and you fit in like a glove. Every morning, he’d come pick you up from your house and you’d walk to the Château where everyone else was waiting in the backyard. Your mother grew to love him, your father a little less.
When the start of the school year rolled around, you were both delighted to find out that you had a bunch of classes in common. For two fresh high schoolers, it was about as blessed a miracle you could receive from the higher powers. It was written in stone apparently, you were in this together.
You begun to truly see him when you fifteen. The sky was purple and an angry storm had ravaged the island and, still, JJ had showed up at your window. He was all drenched, tears and rainwater alike, but it was the bruises that blossomed from the hem of his pants to his neckline, littering his torso like flower buds, that alarmed you the most. You offered him fresh clothes and shelter. When he sat in your bed, making it warmer than you’d ever known, he told you all about his father and the atrocities he survived living in the Maybank household.
As soon as morning rolled around, you’d given him a key to the front door and said: “This is your house, too, Jay. You can come whenever you want, even when we’re not home. You don’t ever have to endure your dad ever again.”
JJ had always looked at you different than how you looked at him, but the sentiment had only deepened when he saw just how much you cared about him. It was like nothing he’d ever felt before, like he wanted to lean in and never pulled away. When you hugged him that morning, he didn’t care that his entire body was on fire, that the bruises put on his body by the hands of his acerbically agressive father felt like gulley wounds, he wanted you close like that forever.
For a little while, he tried to drown those feelings by putting some distance between you two, but it ended absurdly. You caught onto his game immediately, called him out for it and left him standing with his feet in the sand and hot regret brewing in the pit of his stomach. He’d apologized that same night, and you’d shared a bed, entangled under the covers. JJ told you that he didn’t feel good, and you simply assumed that what fuelled his odd behaviour was his horrible home life. You’d never have guessed it was you.
Kie tried to point it out a couple of times and, when John B started dating Kook princess Sarah Cameron, she had told you the exact same thing. Pope was sick of the both of you not acknowledging the blatant chemistry that was close to burning every lightbulb in the room. John B, knowing exactly what his best friends had been feeling through all those years, was living off cheesy jokes and not-so-subtle innuendos. Long story short, you two might as well have been the blindest teenagers there ever was.
That point of view was shared by everyone on the island, who simply assumed that the two of you were together. Belonged to each other. When you’d say you weren’t, they’d use it against you. At parties, boys would flirt with you to rile him up and you knew girls often texted him out of nowhere just to get a reaction out of you. But you often were calm and collected, whereas JJ was a boy that shared his father’s anger and didn’t mind getting his hands dirty. When a boy got too close to you while dancing, enough to make you uncomfortable, he’d swing first and apologize later.
You discovered that part of him the hard way and it had taken you a while to get used to what exactly JJ Maybank could do. He could beat up a boy a hair from death for trying to spike your drink at a party, just like he could be the gentlest person and carry you to John B’s bed at the Château after you’d had one drink too many. He was duality in itself and you’d have to learn to live with it because, knuckles bloody or not, he would always be the same boy who asked you the dance with a wide grin and boyish, disheveled hair on the night you met.
By seventeen, it was shared clothes, hours on the phone and him constantly in your room no matter the season. Summer was your shared favourite season because it meant you could spent all day at the beach, fighting over the surf only to end up flipping a coin for the waves. On the way back home, he drove and you sat in the passenger seat with his hoodie covering your salt-drenched figure and him obviously trying to steal glances at you through the rear view mirror.
When you got a car, a real, functional vehicle that didn’t ressemble the van John B had to jumpstart every time you planned a trip, you’d hooked one of the bracelets that adorned JJ’s wrist from the dashboard. Your father taught the blonde how to drive in it under the golden summer sun, in a supermarket parking lot, and from then on you were exchanging the car back and forth, leaving it there and there for the other. You even planned a google calendar to make sure your appointments didn’t clash. The car was the first thing you owned together.
During your late teenager years, you and JJ had become a lot more domestic. At the Château, you’d cook and he’d wash the dishes, and vice versa. He would drop off his laundry at your house whenever his father forgot to pay the bills and you’d sit on the ground and separate the colours together, either listening to some soft reggae on the old radio in the your kitchen or watching a movie on your computer. When you told the Pogues that his favourite film ever was Mamma Mia, they hadn’t believed you. That night, JJ pinned you down on his bed in the Chateau and you had a pillow fight over it, with ended up with him getting way too close and the door swinging open, which made you both push each other to opposite ends of the room, breathing heavily.
But that was simply how things were between you two. Oftentimes, your mother would joke that you act more like a married couple than her and your father and you’d get upset whenever she said it in front of him. Perhaps that was because you were hiding feelings you didn’t understand, magnetic fervour that only called out for him and no one else.
It didn’t matter how many boys you hooked up with and if he was on top of a girl in the next room, you’d meet for a joint on the front steps of the Château right after, unable to look at each other but still craving the proximity. That entire dance you both were doing was ridiculous but there was no stopping the music.
You got JJ a signet ring with the first letter of your name engraved in the centre for his birthday and quoted an old song that had played in the garage of your house one day when you were playing cards with the Pogues. He hadn’t taken off since he opened the tiny box and hugged you tight enough to break your bones. But you’d enjoyed it and kept your hands in his corn-gold hair and a wide grin plastered on your face. When JJ blew his candles on the kitchen table of the Château, you had grabbed his hand and let him outside, and all of you had danced in the April rain. All of a sudden, you were children again and there was nobody in the world but you and him, grinning kids, with hummingbirds in your ribcages.
It was during the summer of your eighteenth that everything took a turn.
It begun with a sunny morning, humid heat turned up to the max, and ended with two fresh adults sitting on the shore with their hands interlaced, swollen lips and eyes crinkled with blissful, eternal smiles.
JJ picked you up at the same time he always did. You said you want to walk, so you left the car parked in the driveway of your house and walked to the beach instead. The sweat on your bodies made them shine like glitter and you smiled the entire way, catching stolen glances of each other as you crossed the island. Whoever you crossed shot you knowing glances, you and him, which you ignored like you always did. But something felt different and it was floating in the island heat.
After a couple of hours in the water, you found yourself sitting in the sand next to the boy whose eyes were bluer than the surf you’d just enjoyed. You’d shared a joint and, just as it ended, kept your hand over his and didn’t move it. He wanted to part his lips and question it, but was afraid you’d pull away and leave him alone. JJ was a miserable man when it came to you, no surprise, and he begun to see his feelings of desperation in you as if he was staring at a mirror.
When you leaned closer and grazed your lips with his, the softest of touches, he could have sworn he found his new religion. JJ slid his hand in your hair through the nape of your neck and crashed into you feverishly, like he had been waiting his entire life for it. And he was, anyway.
You were both awake and sober and aware. Nothing about the moment you were living was fake. For a second, you were sent back to a foggy night at thirteen when you picked the loneliest boy in the crowd and made a beeline for him hoping to make a friend. You’d found a lot more than friendship that night. The both of you took too long to pull away. Once the pair of you realized what had happened, it was as if a wave ofc relief crashed over your shoulders. Like you both had been stuck in purgatory for the lay six years and you were just now entering the gates of heaven.
The waves crashes at your feet. The ocean was fully aware of the moment you had shared and vowed to remember it forever. Blissful, you pushed him in the sand he tossed a handful at you as his lips twisted into the widest grin you had ever seen him wear, and your laughter echoed all across the beach, ricocheting off the ocean.
And the rest is confetti.
28 notes
·
View notes
Text
Get to know me!
tagged by @elveny, let's see if I can get this done before I have to get out of bed (someone play me the world's smallest violin)
Share your wallpaper: So my PC is set to cycle through my XIV screenshot folder as its wallpaper, so here's my Chromebook (where I do all my writing) and my phone (where I do all my blogging) wallpapers instead!
A lovely comm from thetictactician on Twitter on my Chromebook!
and this amazing comm on my phone from Hollycircling on Twitter, I can't believe she indulged me and went this fucking hard but she did this. In a week.
The last song you listened to: Warrior by Beth Crowley (this is such a Jess song tbh)
Currently Reading: Ok... so... I actually haven't read any sort of published novel since... 2011, with A Storm of Crows I think? So I used to read a shit ton, but it was 11th grade and my friends were like 'You're still reading kids books? Read something for grown ups instead' (I was rereading Percy Jackson at the time, my beloved). So I gave it a try with a 'grown up' fantasy series and... fuck GoT it was awful and I decided if that's what adult literature was like, I didn't want any part of it. So I quit reading entirely.
Last Movie: Bullet Train, months ago. I don't like watching movies - I'm huge into the behind the scenes stuff, cinematography, lighting, direction, costume design etc etc so it makes it hard to watch movies when my brain won't stop analyzing and criticizing everything (honestly modern cinema is so full of people just 'sending it' for the next big paycheck, the heart is just gone). But my husband insisted I watch this one and you know what? It was actually really well made, I was impressed.
Craving: More time. More time to finish these cosplays (Twelve have mercy the con is in a week and a half), more time to write, more time to decompress. Also craving a Chromebook/laptop/portable writing device that doesn't freeze when I type more than 5 letters in a row...
What are you wearing right now: My nightgown! (still in bed) It's got penguins on it and it's fucking adorable.
How tall are you: 5'5, idk what that is in the rest of the world. Americans, y'know.
Piercings: None, but I bought some super cute Ascian earrings last year and I've been really tempted to get my earlobes pierced.
Tattoos: None, not my thing but totally cool for everyone else!
Glasses? Contacts?: Lasik! Totally worth if you can do it.
Last drink: Choccy milk (I am an adult)
Last show: Last narrative-focused show? Uhhhhhh.... I watched the first season of The Walking Dead in 2012 and I legit can't think of anything more recent. I just don't enjoy watching things much, I'd rather be doing something, and I'm such a snob when it comes to screenwriting/characters that most things just don't appeal to me. Other than that the last non-scripted show I watched was Restaurant: Impossible.
Last thing you ate: An oatmeal chocolate chip cookie my sister made last night.
Favourite colour: Wine/burgundy! That deep, dark, blood red with just a hint of purple (in case you couldn't tell since it's the color my WoL wears in every outfit)
Current obsession: FFXIV lol
Unrelated Obsession: Unrelated? I'd say writing but that's kind of related... So, horses? I mean that's just always my obsession.
Any pets: Uh... yeah. I myself have two horses. And then... we have a shit ton of cats. So in 2020 strays kept showing up at our house and then they'd have babies, eventually we managed to catch them all and get them fixed and now some of them have chosen to move in. Shelters are full all across the state, rescues and fosters are full. So now we have... 10 cats that live inside (it's a large house) and then another six/seven that are still feral outside but fixed at least. Nothing much we can do about it, but keeping them inside keeps them safe and saves the wildlife outside, too.
Do you have a crush on anyone: An eternal crush on my husband. He's just amazing. Soft. Adorable. Handsome. Perfect. Goofy. Gorgeous. Smart. Creative. Loving. So many more words. 12 years together in May!
Favourite fictional character: Assuming player characters/WoLs don't count, Elena Fisher from Uncharted. She was the first female character I encountered who was just... normal. Not a token female, not sexualized eye candy, not walking boobs without a personality, she was... a real person, a real character in her own right, whose gender didn't change who she was. And I fell in love with that back in 2007 (I was in middle school then, so it was kind of a big deal for me). She only got better as the years went by, I still love her.
The last place you traveled: Depends on your definition of 'travel'. On a literal sense probably Portland, but since both that and Seattle are practically in my backyard I don't really count those. Other than that, Philadelphia I think, for a wedding.
TAGGING! Oh so many people should do this. Off the top of my head, if you'd like to... @ainyan, @mimble-sparklepudding, @boggleoflight, @tallbluelady, @humblemooncat, @dragoon-mid-jump, @otherworldseekers, @aethericfist and now I'm out of time and have to get ready for work so anyone else who sees this! Sorry I was tagging in a hurry, I know a lot of you are character/RP blogs so feel free to ignore.
15 notes
·
View notes
Note
All of them for hemming
All odds for Issy
Evens for grown up lio
1. When they tap their fingers do they use the pads of their fingers or their nails?
The pads of his fingers, his nails arent very long
2. What textures can they absolutely not stand?
Burlap I've decided to call it, like that scarecrow stuff, its too scratchy
3. How long can they go without showering before they feel gross?
Probably like 4 days
4. Do they leave clothes on the floor or a chair?
If he must leave clothes somewhere it'll be on a chair or his bed, or on top of his dresser
5. Do they sleep with the bedroom door open or closed?
Closed because he was raised correctly
6. Which do they prefer: 3am or 3pm?
3am because it gets dark at fucking 3pm now.
7. If they suddenly woke up with animal ears and tails what animal would they be?
Don't make me answer this mf furry question. He'd be a bunny.
8. If they could only eat one thing for 20 days straight what would it be?
California rolls cause its my default favourite food.
9. Are they the type to re-read a book?
Yes, he's read nothing but A little life since he got it in 2021. He's read it like 5 times. He kins jude, obviously.
10. Would they want to know the exact date and time of their death?
He would!!! Now that you mention it, I've just planned it, but obviously he doesnt get to know until it happens :charlieexplain:
11. What’s their favourite mythological creature?
I only know girl ones, so I guess whatever was in the magic tree house, like, warlocks?
12. If they had to listen to one song on repeat 100+ times what would it be?
🖤🖤🖤
13. Do they believe in an afterlife?
Yes, but he's not ableist, so everyone's disabled in it if they were when they were alive.
14. When they get tired do their eyelids twitch?
Yeah, he squishes his eyes really tight, like a mini sleep
15. What are their favourite textures?
Squishy and soft like a squishmallow
16. Do they crack their joints?
No not really, he doesnt need another body part not working 😵
17. Would they eat/drink something too hot or wait for it to cool?
He'd eat something right away, he be hungry
18. Are they the type to adopt strays? (Animals or people)
Animals maybe, not people, he's an introvert
19. Do they get work done straight away or wait until the last moment?
He likes to do assigned tasks in order of importance
20. How do they bathe/shower? Long or short? Hot or cold?
i love this question and cause only 2 ppl are gonna read it, I'll spill. He prefers showers, more accessible, and just sits on the built in seat of his shower cause its fancy like that, he does his face wash first, and his hair last, usually hot and on the longer side, which is why he only does it every 4-7 days.
21. Are they the type to daydream?
YeS, what else do u do when you dont have friends?
22. Do they work best in a messy space or a neat space?
NEAT, he's good at cleaning.
23. Do they keep any personal photos?
He has a family photo album, but he doesnt keep the photos on his person
24. Do they indulge in anything?
Hot choccy and then he has to be on the toilet for like 8 hours :/
25. Would they do the exact opposite of what someone says just to spite them?
Probably not. he'd be like, "youre probably right" and forget about it. every son of mine will be a doormat, know that.
26. If they’re alone and hear a noise would they go and investigate?
No, he'd accept his fate 💀
27. If they’re lost what is the first thing they would do?
Check if he had cell service to pop up his maps
28. What is that one dream that makes no sense but is absolutely terrifying?
Being recruited for the military! His biggest irrational fear! Biggest nightmare/dream (?)
29. What is the stupidest thing they’ve ever done just because someone said they couldn’t?
did the skate park tricks in his wheelchair without a helmet, boi got himself another head injury from that one
30. Are they stoic or melodramatic about being injured?
Laughs in disabled. He's all brave about it because he has a praise kink.
6 notes
·
View notes
Note
omg so i sent in an ask re angst jock jk n oc ! but then i also realized its highly possible these 2 break up at one point while in uni mostly bc of the "are we dating bc its convenient" kinda dilemma and then it just pushes them apart bc they think theyre losing theirselves while being in such a close relationship,,,cue save ur tears by theweeknd BUT i just know when they grow up a lil bit more, theyll end up together <3
here we go! (the beginning of the end....may be...)
didn’t include save your tears as the soundtrack but may haps for the follow-up :3
pairing: jock!jk and oc
warnings: angst, yes the break-up scene, jaykay being an ass (a very huge one motivated by his own insecurities and selfishness – translation: he’d rather break her heart and carry that weight than be the heartbroken one), chayoung is no longer Seed of Doubt but something else (still up for debate but she’s fairly nice here), not edited but hey atp that’s part of my branding (also i would like everyone to consider that oc is not the greatest gf ever like guys don’t hate jk alone!!)
soundtrack: bags, clairo + stay, gracie abrams + say you know, alina baraz
(titled — honeymoon fades)
Jeongguk’s contact name hasn’t lit up the screen of your phone for six days now and you haven’t seen his face for just as long. It’s weird to go from constant incessant communication to complete and utter radio silence. Not a single meme deposited in your Instagram inbox, no random notification from his Twitter. Just silence, quiet brewing silence.
It breaks two days later when Chayoung finds you coddled under your duvet, mouth stuffed with the saccharine sweetness of mint chocolate. (Jeongguk kept a stash of it at your place but who was around to eat it anymore apart from you?).
“And why do you look like you live in a dumpster?” She’d hummed, ripping open the curtains you’d involuntarily welded shut.
“Because that’s how I feel inside,” you’d retorted, pushing aside your laptop. The screen is stuck with an image of an idiotic character named Nabi kissing the spawn of Satan. You hope for her sake it works out. Chayoung had huffed at your response, fondly whacking your head with a stray pillow.
“Well get over that feeling cause we’re going out tonight.” A declaration, the fierceness in her feline eyes a warning that you’re not allowed to even think of saying no. That doesn’t mean you hadn’t tried – sorrowful eyes and pouted lips as you begged her to spare you. But Chayoung is a force of nature, one that could easily wreak havoc on your delicateness. And she does though, with a string of comments that propels you out of the miserable burrow you’d dug up.
“You’re killing everyone, you know?” She’d supplied, yanking open your closet. “You’re sulking, Jeongguk is shutting down. He’s said like five words since this whole...thing...you have going on.”
You couldn’t help but scoff at that, toying with the corner of the large grey shirt donned on your body. Jeongguk’s shirt. One of his favourites actually. You’d thought about stealing it after spying it on his obsessively neat laundry pile, but after seeing your wandering eyes he’d given it to you instead.
“He always does that,” you’d said after Chayoung had whipped her head in your direction, curved eyebrows perplexed. “I mean, shut down. It’s his emotional response to things that bother him. Complete detachment so it hurts less.”
She had just stared at you, a long meaningful look at left your skin prickled.
“Huh.”
“What do you mean ‘huh’?”
A measured step forward, her body weight sinking into the edge of your mattress a moment later. “I mean, you know him so well.”
“Of course I do he’s my best-friend,” you’d said, indignation coating your words
“No–No you're not getting me. You know him. You know he wouldn’t make the move to reconcile–”
“But he should!”
“You told him to go away! He’s trying to listen to you even though he’s hurting!”
And maybe that was it, that simple implication that you were causing him pain that had you pausing, reviewing the things you’d said to him – the things you’d felt.
“But,” a timid rebuttal, “I just–I just need him to show me that he cares.”
“He does,” Chayoung had returned. “So much. And he misses you. He’s probably just afraid that you don’t feel the same.”
“But I do! He knows this.”
“Does he?” A question in her eyes, one that you’re afraid you know the honest answer to.
You say things and never mean them, he had said, eyes hard.
That had hurt you but perhaps he was right, there are things you hadn’t told him, feelings you hadn’t truly expressed. And Jeongguk had always been good to you, so understanding and caring, trying to fill the places were you lacked. Wasn’t he the one who planned the majority of your dates? Remembered all the important milestones of your relationship while you contributed the bare minimum. You hadn’t even told Chayoung about the surprise he had planned for your one-year anniversary, the shame of your own choice hanging heavy over your head.
So that’s why you’re here, staring at the back of his head forlornly as the music drifts around you, flashing florescent lights bathing him a hazy glory. He hasn’t seen you yet (something you’re thankful for because oddly enough you feel sick to your stomach). It feels like you’re skating on thin ice, waiting for the impending crack to sound through your heart, ice water swallowing you whole immediately. Chayoung is the one who pushes you forward, gingerly plucking the idle drink from your hand, Jimin aiding her efforts with a soft smile your way.
It’s time for you to try the way Jeongguk has, put aside that bumbling ego that oversees your actions and adopt the humility he’s always granted you.
“Go,” she murmurs. “He misses you.”
And God you hope he does because you’ve missed him too.
Except the moment his honey eyes land on you you know he hasn’t.
“Jeongguk,” you mumble. Yoonoh is frozen beside him, concerned gaze flicking between your faces. Your own eyes are stuck on him, the shape of his nose, the curve of his lips, the subtle hint of the dimple in his cheeks.
You’ve missed him, and it slips from your heart and brims in your eyes, vision blurry as your blink those stray tears back inside.
“Hi,” you add, when his silence doesn’t break.
“I should probably go,” Yoonoh lets out, awkward words bumping into the wall of tension standing firm between you to. He settles a hand on Jeongguk’s shoulder, sending him a look that feels loaded. “See you guys later, right?”
You nod, finally noticing the lump clogging your throat. “Yeah, sure.” Jeongguk just hums, the edge of his cup caught between his lips. Yoonoh flees within seconds, leaving you to wade through this alone.
“I–I know you’re not happy with me right now, but please, can we just talk?” He blinks at you, it feels like a premonition. “Please?”
“Okay.” The simple word fills you, like a hollow you weren’t aware of finally found the cure needed.
“Okay,” a small smile on your lips. Jeongguk’s face is still unreadable. He guides you up and away from the deafening sound of the song bleeding from the speakers, into an empty room, the door closing behind him muting the music and giving way to the own pounding in your head. Nobody says anything for a second, both of you navigating this uncharted territory of animosity. Until Jeongguk sighs, melting into the bed at the centre of the room. You follow suit, allocating enough space between the two of you. You’ve ever had to do that before.
“You said you wanted to talk?” Jeongguk finally cuts through it, eyes unforgiving when he glances at you.
“I did! I do–Just Jeongguk,” you can’t help it drifting out. “I miss you.”
Nothing, not even a flicker in his eyes. He eyes shift to the floor instead. “Okay. I that what you wanted to say?”
“No–No not just that! I’ve missed you Jeongguk and I’m sorry. I’m sorry that i went off on you like that and I’m sorry I haven’t been the best towards you and I’m sorry that I’ve made you feel like I didn’t care about you–or made you feel like the things I said or did had no meaning behind them. Because they do–they do because I love you. I love you so so much and I’m sorry if I made it seem like otherwise.” You automatically extend out for him, hoping to grasp on his thing floating to fast away from you. Jeongguk shifts and you hand tumbles down to the empty space between you instead, halted by his hesitance.
His head drops into his palms a second later, a broken exhale leaving his lips. The motion cause the silver bracelet on his wrist to slip down the length of his arm. It jolts something in you. Jeongguk had given you a matching one but you’d ripped it off after the last argument and hadn’t considered putting it back on. But Jeongguk was still wearing his.
“Do you really?”
“What?” He’s staring at you know, doe eyes cloudy.
“Do you really love me?” There, that stupid evil vile question that you thought you had the answer to but the words vanish in your head the longer he looks at you.
“I do–what? What are you implying? Of course, I do.”
“Of course, you do,” Jeongguk echoes. His eyes turn to the window located over his shoulder. You can see his head working through something, and you’re suddenly terrified fingertips itching to wander through his curls and coax those thoughts from his head.
“Jeongguk? What the hell are you talking about? Talk to me, please.”
He sighs again, at it feels like your heart splinters. A sudden shake of his head and Jeongguk twists back to face you, a silent tear falling down his cheek.
“You don’t love me.”
“Wh–What are you talking about? I do! And how can you decide my feelings for me?”
“No. You don’t love me the way you think you do–the way you should.” It feels like he’s saying it to more than you, like he’s saying it to himself. “Maybe this the wrong choice to make. You know. Maybe we shouldn’t have done this.”
You shatter just like that, shards on the floor as you stare him, this person that you thought you knew. And maybe the feeling is mutual because Jeongguk is staring at you in a similar way, searching for the courage to say the words you know lie in his heart. Like a loaded cannon, waiting for the match to strike and leave you lying in pieces.
“I think we should break–"
“No,” you cut him off with an adamance that you didn’t know existed until right then. “No, you’re not gonna say that and we are not doing this.”
His eyes narrow then, jaw set. “This is not about ‘us’, I’m doing what’s right for me.”
“How is that right? Huh, Jeongguk? Don’t you care about this? Don’t you care about me?”
He looks away then, ignoring your questions, his throat stuck.
“Jeongguk...” You reach out again, and he allows it, shoulders sinking with the weight of your hand on them. “Don’t you care about me?”
Another heavy exhale, his eyes blinking hard. “I do. And that’s why this won’t work, not the way it should at least. I really think we should end this, or at least reconsider the reasons why we’re together. You say you love me–you say you always have but really–really think about it. About me and us and what we are. I’m sorry, I really am but I just can’t do this anymore.”
He rises then, your outstretched hand tumbling down to the empty space he’d left behind. You can’t move it, can’t breathe, your heart hurtling out of your chest and onto the ground where it lies, fragmented beyond repair and bleeding bare. You glance up through tears, watch him open his mouth and then it and look away.
“Do you mean it?” You finally ask, and his eyes snap to you. He knows what you’re saying. There’s a pause that stretches out for eternity, coloured by the sound of the ringing in your head.
“Maybe.” It cuts right through you, lodging itself deep with intent. And then you just have to nod, swallow the scream clawing at your throat. He murmurs one more apology before his feet carry him away, and you watch, forlorn as you burn his frame into your memory, as your whole world walks out the door.
296 notes
·
View notes
Text
brad dourif characters x reader headcanons: marriage
marriage isn't for everyone but if you did tie the knot, there is no way it wouldn't be a wild ride with all of them, one way or another. warning for smut (mild).
charles lee ray
no one could ever accuse this man of being a romantic
(except he really, really is)
legally he doesn't care if you get married or not
but you suggest it first (not a proposal) and you both mutually agree to it
then he sort of proposes (with a ring and flowers) after you've already agreed
if you want a legal marriage it would have to be before any of his murders are he is known to the police
(he's already known for petty crime but getting married would really blow his cover if he's already a wanted murderer)
you go to the nearest courthouse and have a bare minimum ceremony
he wears the nicest suit he already owns
and you go out and get a white dress that you could wear again to a bar
you sign the papers
then you consummate your love in the ladies toilets
whether you go on honeymoon depends on how much money you have at the time
either you go to a tacky wedding motel or you stay in and don't leave the apartment for a week
either way you're having a lot of sex
like seriously
jack dante
it's hard work to get him to actually go through with the wedding
he is actually the one to propose to you
after sex of course
"babe, we should like, get hitched"
he means it, he does, but maybe in a more metaphorical way??
it takes some nagging but you finally get him to go down to the courthouse with you
there is definitely a legal/financial aspect of your marriage
like he may be the wild card employee but he gets paid ludicrously well for everything he contributes to the company (and to try and keep a little bit under control)
if something happened to him (and he has no doubt one day bob might just have him bumped off) he may as well give everything to you, there's no one else for it to go to
neither of you dress up for the ceremony
but you do buy some tacky bridal lingerie to wear underneath
another bare minimum ceremony
it's not your first rodeo doing it in a public restroom
it's almost romantic, a repeat of your first time
the white lacy panties are surprisingly very appreciated
you have to convince him to move back to his old apartment together now that you're married instead of hiding away at CHAANK
he honestly probably forgets you're even married until you bring it up
billy bibbit
he proposes to you
one day while you're at home on a sunday afternoon
lay together on the couch while you read
"h-hey, i h-h-have sssomething to a-ask you"
his stutters gets a tiny bit worse and you worry something is up
"l-l-listen, I-I rrreally love y-you a-a-a-and I-" he has to pause and collect himself
but you already know what he's going to ask and you can't keep from smiling
"w-will you m-m-mmmarry me?"
you throw your book aside and throw your arms around him
"yes! yes, of course I will billy!"
billy is a good christian boy so you have a good christian church wedding (unless you have other religious/secular preferences)
it's a very small wedding
only your favourite family members and closest friends come
same with billy
he feels incredibly guilty for not inviting his mother, but he hasn't seen her since he finally discharged himself from the hospital
you reassured him and remind him that this is the start of your lives together
he looks so dapper in his suit
you help him pick it out
he insists he doesn't want to see your dress until the big day
he cries when he sees you walk up the aisle
loves calling you his wife, and you calling him husband makes him feel wanted
puts your wedding photo in every room and carries it around in his wallet
sheriff brackett
he didn't expect he'd ever find someone he'd want to marry
(what with his last marriage ending the way it did)
when he realises he's truly in love with you, and you with him, he plans his proposal
it's nothing extravagant but it's absolutely perfect
you have a romantic dinner together and he does a whole speech about how much he loves you
and you see where it's going but you let him go on for a minute until you're like "do you want to ask me something?"
he flusters about it but is very cute and finally pops the question
"i - sweetie, i'd be honoured to make you my wife, will you marry me?"
you have a church wedding (unless you have other religious/secular preferences)
close family and friends only
cries when you walk down the aisle
annie gets very invested in helping with the planning and is probably more bothered about it than either of you are
you have a (very) classy dress
loves that he can call you his wife now !! the sheriff's wife !!
reception at your house, classic buffet
lowkey you both cannot wait untl everyone just leaves
*wink wink*
you do have a first dance in private though after everyone leaves
you're both soft and giggling and the song is a cheesy love song but it's perfect
your wedding night is the height of romance
your bridal lingerie really does it for him
what better start for your marriage than him making you cum so many times that you lose count?
doc cochran
you and doc didn't think you'd get married at all
neither of you felt the need to make anything official
you both consider yourself as his common law wife anyway
but something happens (either you get pregnant or some unrest with the camp politics makes the future seem uncertain) you decide you may as well tie the knot officially
there's no real proposal, he just sort of asks
you go to the Grand where E.B (being mayor) unfortunately has to officiate
you don't intend to invite anyone, saying it is no one elses business
but people catch wind (i.e. al, trixie and jane, merrick, maybe sol and seth) and basically invite themselves
you wear your best dress
and doc doesn't half scrub up well
Al invites you both back for a drink at the gem which you accept
("only one though, al" "sure, sure, you gotta get back home - the marriage bed is waiting - I understand")
the marriage bed is waiting though and you get kind of emotional when you go home together for the first time as husband and wife
funnily enough no one shows up at doc's that night for treatment and you have the whole night to yourselves
grima wormtongue
it takes you both a long time before you admit your feelings for each other and commit to having a relationship rather than a friends with benefits situation
marriages move fairly quickly in middle earth
no sooner are you engaged are you at the alter
wedding is moderately fancy because grima is doing pretty well being the king's adviser
few people actually show up who don't have to be there though because neither of you exactly have a lot of friends
grima almost clams up when it comes the ceremony because he doesnt want to say all this personal stuff about how much he loves you in front of other people
but you both get through it and finally, finally you are properly married
he's very emotional when you consummate your marriage but he tries to hide it
(but you know him too well)
tommy ludlow
he proposes one morning after sex
it's only just getting light and you both have to get up for work soon
you're still sweaty and his face is pressed into your neck
and in hushed tones you whisper back and forth
"will you marry me?"
it takes you a second to process what he said, "you wanna get married?"
"if you'll have me"
you kiss him and whisper "yes"
it's a church wedding for you and tommy (unless you have other religious/secular preferences)
he has a pretty big extended family and he has to invite them all
your dress and his suit are second hand
(because you're saving for better things)
laura takes a lot of photos for you
including the classic confetti toss one as you leave the church
takes you ages to comb all the confetti out of tommy's hair afterwards
cheesy first dance at the wedding reception
you can tell tommy is nervous so you joke around and make sure he doesn't take it too seriously
when you get home? goddamn you ride him like there's no tomorrow
(still in your wedding dress)
leo nova
it's go big or go home with him
80s fashion at its best
your dress is worth more than the rent on your old apartment
he doesn't see it before the wedding
you're surprised at how many traditions he sticks too despite him having the emotional range of a teaspoon
not many people get an invite to the ceremony but it's a wild after party
like a bunch of coked out 80s gangsters ?? amazing
the honeymoon is next level
you go to some tropical holiday resort (caribbean, thailand or spain) and it is all sun, sex and sangria for two whole weeks
tucker cleveland
didn't think he'd want to get married again
but in reality he just didn't like his first wife all that much
takes you out to dinner and proposes
when you say yes he is honestly relieved
but because he doesn't want to get emotional he calls over the waiter to get your free dessert
courthouse wedding
you do insist he wears a suit though and you buy a white dress
does the whole "just married" thing on the back of his truck
actually takes you on a honeymoon (sort of)
you go out of state and stay in a motel for a week
(vigorous sex ensues)
now you're married good and proper you can be his good little wifey
#brad dourif x reader#brad dourif#charles lee ray x reader#jack dante x reader#billy bibbit x reader#sheriff brackett x reader#doc cochran x reader#grima wormtongue x reader#tommy ludlow x reader#leo nova#tucker cleveland#marriage#damn this was a long time in the making#its been in my drafts for ages and i just kept adding#i might make a part 2 if i think i've missed anything vital#tw smut#tbh i dont think jack would ever get married#but i wanted him on the list with everyone else lol#charles lee ray#jack dante#sheriff brackett#grima wormtongue#doc cochran
121 notes
·
View notes
Text
good god, let me give you my life. — kaeya
another converted oc fic!!!! yes i have many kaeya thoughts....... and i missed this oc in particular QAQ anyways please accept this word vomit its like 2k words im sorry idk what possessed me
pairing: kaeya x fem!reader
content warnings: mentions of blood/injuries + alcohol, light swearing (like, three instances max)
Kaeya had seen that doe-eyed look countless times before, but there was still something about the way your gaze burned almost incredulously into his own that made his smirk grow wider.
"Kaeya, you asshole!" you exclaimed, but your half-exasperated anger just made him laugh—by the Seven, you were even more fun to tease than Diluc!
"What's the rush?" he laughed, ignoring your hand on his chest to balance herself as you tiptoed to where he was holding your Vision right out of your reach. "Is widdle [Name] so scared of—"
You elbowed him in the gut at that, and his grip on your Vision wavered as he let out a pained oof. You pinned it back to where it normally hung, and a glance at your clothes—the buttoned up coat, the bags placed haphazardly on the ground next to your boots—was all it took for the lucidity to return to Kaeya's eyes.
"The others are waiting," you muttered, gaze downcast and cheeks flushed from the cold. Kaeya nodded. Wordlessly, you grabbed his hands and squeezed, ever so gently.
"I promise we'll come back to visit," you said. "And I'll write a lot."
Kaeya nodded again, a devious grin pulling at his lips but faltering at the edges. "When you do come back I'll ask Master Crepus to throw a party and I'll read out your letters for everyone to hear—"
"You—!"
"...So come back safe, okay?"
A sigh, then, and another light squeeze of his hands.
"I promise."
With that, Kaeya finally let you go—and already missing the warmth of your palms and the fleetingness of your touch, he watched as your back disappeared off into the horizon.
Kaeya often found himself waiting, those days, to the point that he might have called himself distracted if he hadn't known any better. The smile that graced his lips at each letter—which always started with your and your brother's neat handwriting, with little comments from your sister sprinkled all throughout, and sealed with some local flower or other—never failed to go unnoticed, to the point that even Diluc found himself sighing at the sight.
"You're an idiot," he had said, and nothing else.
Each year your visits had become a staple of summer, and for days on end Master Crepus' manor was filled with foreign music and dance. Kaeya never read out your letters like he said he would, but you two would always sneak out of the party with a bottle of champagne, and you would whisper gossip to each other like you always used to, conspiratory and scheming.
(Once, just as a laugh was about to spill from his lips, you placed your palm over the lower half of his face and kissed the back of your hand. "I thought you were bolder than that," he teased, and with a scoff you plucked the bottle from his hands.
"Oh? I'd like to see you do better, lover boy.")
One year the letters stopped, and you never came to visit. Winter came all too soon. The calla lilies in your last letter had begun to wilt.
The next year, he and Diluc parted ways. As their swords clashed for the last time, he wished it was your flames that had scorched him instead.
Two years hence, the Knights of Favonius found a young woman, half-conscious and all but bleeding out, under the tree at Windrise.
Kaeya had stopped in his tracks when he heard, his silver tongue going dry behind the calm smile he put on. "Thanks for the news," he told his subordinate. "I'll check it out."
As soon as he was alone, he let the panic sink in.
His walk to the cathedral was exceedingly brief, and Kaeya wasn't quite sure if that was a good thing. As he walked towards the infirmary he heard Barbara's voice—
"...but do you remember anything else?"
A pause, then a blunt, "No."
—And as he walked inside he saw the deaconess with her tome, and a little ways behind her was...you. You seemed a little pale and worse for wear, but when you looked at him with the same doe-eyed look as before, Kaeya couldn't help but feel the slightest bit relieved.
"You really worried me back there, love," he said smoothly. "How are you feeling now?"
You glanced almost unnoticeably at Barbara, who seemed to mouth something along the lines of, "Later."
"Alive, I guess," you responded, then paused for a good moment as you glanced at him fully. Kaeya raised an eyebrow.
"Sorry…" you said, "It's just that I've heard so much about you, but—"
But what? he thought, and felt his blood run cold again.
"—I have no idea who you are."
—
Kaeya thought it the worst of cruelties for you to be so similar to your old self, yet so wholly, horribly different. You walked with the same languid grace, spoke with the same haughtiness and pride, still tapped your teaspoon against the rim of your teacup—three times, every single time, with a resounding chime.
But you no longer looked at him the same, no longer laughed at his old jokes, no longer called him by his name. It was always captain or sir, and never what he so desperately longed to hear.
"You Knights are always so ineffective," Diluc sighed, and for the first time in years the Ragnvindr brothers finally found themselves in agreement.
Kaeya laughed self-pityingly, running one hand through his hair and using the other to swirl the contents of his half-empty glass. Another sigh, and just as he was about to speak again, the door to Angel's Share opened to the sound of laughter.
"Venti, I said no—"
"Oh, come on! All you've been doing is reading that journal of yours! I thought you—"
There was an indignant, ungraceful sounding yell, and the rest of Venti's words were muffled by what Kaeya assumed was your hand. You two whispered together some more—he even thought he heard you threaten him, if he wasn't mistaken—and with your defeated sigh, Venti began to tune his lyre.
Ah, you was going to dance, then.
Kaeya turned in his seat to the point where he could watch them from the corner of his vision, taking another drink from his steadily-emptying glass. With gentle hands, the bard began to pluck at his lyre strings, and with the same practiced, precise movements he committed so dearly to memory, your body began to sway.
He knew this one—it started off slowly, gently, only to speed up as the music did as well. One-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three-four, went your heels against the wooden floor, and as the song ended and you bowed with a haughty flourish, Kaeya had abruptly stood up and left the tavern.
Your steps were light against the cobblestone when you caught up with him, that same night.
"Captain," you said, "you've been avoiding me."
He turned around to face you, a practiced smile on his lips. He couldn't look you in the eyes, though, no matter how intensely your gaze burned into him. "Oh? What might you be doing out so late, Miss [Surname]?"
You sighed, placing a hand on your hip. "You knew me before, right? That's why you keep running away?"
Kaeya's tongue went dry as he heard you speak. Ah, what does he say to this? He watched you sigh again, but this time you brought out the musty old journal that he knew hung from your waist.
You held it out to him expectantly, but he didn't take it.
"...We knew each other," he eventually replied, soft and without any of his normal bravado. "We were…close."
Your face remained impassive, but there was a glint in your eyes that gave your suspicion away. "...I see," you said. "Then…I want to start again. I can't be the person you knew before, but…"
It was Kaeya who sighed this time, endearingly. "You really haven't changed," he said, before holding out a hand for you to shake. "Allow me to reintroduce myself, then. Kaeya Alberich, at your service."
You smiled, and he felt his heart flutter and ache alike at the sight. Taking his hand, you said, "[Name] [Surname]…a pleasure it is to finally know you, Kaeya."
—
Whenever dusk fell, Kaeya would often find you at one of the many taverns littered throughout the city, but your favourite seemed to be the Angel's Share, of all places. If you weren't dancing along to whatever tune the bard was singing, you were often talking with Diluc from the opposite end of the bar, sipping from your glass of wine.
And whenever Kaeya would walk in you would turn to him and raise your glass in greeting, crowing something or other about coincidence, and he would say something or other about fate; and then you would drink together as his brother grew increasingly exasperated at the volume.
One evening, he had lost track of how many rounds he had when his head began to grow fuzzy. He was only half-conscious of Charles' sigh, and you saying something along the lines of, "I'll bring him home."
With practiced ease—likely from your time hanging around with that drunkard bard—you lifted him up and slung his arm around your shoulders, struggling a bit from his height. "C'mon, captain, let's get you home," you said, to which he merely nodded and buried his face in the warmth of the crook of your neck.
"Y'know, it was always you getting wasted like this," he drawled. "Master Crepus used to—! He used to always scold us for stealing wine, but you were always half passed out so you never heard any of it."
You looked down, seemingly deep in thought. "It sounds like we were very close," you said, and he chuckled and hummed in the affirmative.
He began rambling again as you made the short walk to his house, continuing even as you dug through his pockets for his keys. How he still reads your letters, how you made fun of his eyepatch the very first time he wore it, how you two used to climb the tree at Windrise, hoping always, in vain, to somehow reach the highest bough. If he were less shitfaced and more sober perhaps he would have found it in himself to stem the waterfall of words spilling from his lips—honest and raw in a way neither of you were used to—but as it stood, all he could have done was bare his heart to you like this.
You were silent as you laid him down on his bed, mumbling more to yourself than to anyone else, "You need to drink water, Kaeya."
The silence between you hung heavy like a body on the gallows.
"I really loved you, you know."
Another pause, then, and then the soft caress of your palm against his cheek, and the lightest brush of your lips against his forehead.
"...Good night, Kaeya."
The next day, Kaeya woke up with the worst bitch of a migraine he's ever had in his life. As he rose to get a glass of water, he suddenly became aware of several things: firstly, the fact that he was a fucking idiot; second, the fact that he needs to get black-out drunk less often; and third, the fact that you were lying asleep on his couch, your journal in one hand and your other arm hanging off the side.
He sighed, placing down the empty glass, and walked over to you—and with your same gentleness from the night before, Kaeya brushed aside your bangs to press a kiss to your forehead.
—
"Snrk—you what?"
"Oh, yes, and then after that Jean said—"
You cut off the rest of his story by shoving a piece of meat in his mouth, and when Kaeya managed to swallow it he was met with the sight of your smug smile and your eyes still bleary from laughing.
"There's no way all of that happened because of a rabbit," you said, to which he laughed good-naturedly, followed by a sip from his glass of wine.
"You'd be surprised what kinds of things Klee can get herself into."
You laughed again, and he took another drink of wine. Ah, he missed this, he thought. Missed the way the breeze here at Windrise smelled of asters, missed the way the moonlight trickled down through the leaves of the giant tree.
(Most of all, he missed the little way your nose would crinkle when you laughed, but he'd prefer not to say that aloud, lest he be hit over the head with the wine bottle he brought along today—amnesia or not, he knew very well it was still within your strength to do so.)
Kaeya watched as you closed your eyes to enjoy the evening breeze, your hair like a wildfire in the breeze. You looked at him then, your eyes heavy with a certain lucidity that he couldn't name, but still managed to shake him somehow.
"...I'm in love with you, Kaeya."
When he smirked and said, "So I get to brag that I made you fall for me twice?" he was met with the same indignant, doe-eyed glare from all those years ago.
"I'm being serious!" you exclaimed, but he only laughed again, and covered your mouth with the palm of his hand. Before you could protest again, he kissed the back of his own hand and pulled away, a cheeky grin on his lips.
"Where'd all that bravado go, Mr. Casanova?"
Kaeya was hit with a pang of nostalgia, then. He looked at you, cheeks lightly flushed from the cold breeze and embarrassment alike, and his smile only widened further.
"Hmm? Think you can do any better, dearest?"
#genshin impact imagines#genshin impact scenarios#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact kaeya#kaeya x reader#bee writes
308 notes
·
View notes
Text
“i want to love someone and be loved” ; spencer reid - part 2
pairing: spencer reid (criminal minds) x f!reader
summary: spencer decides it’s time to tell you, but he needs some help. 3887 words. part 1
a/n: THIS is the longest fic ive ever written but im actually kinda proud of how it turned out? i hope this is a good sequel :)
Spencer chickens out of telling you the next day.
He avoids you all weekend, actually. You resisted texting him the day after Rossi’s because you assumed he’d be busy – with his big plan involving a girl that isn’t you. You’re not bitter – but Sunday comes around and you message him not long after you wake up and six hours later there’s no response.
Twelve hours later - there’s no response.
Monday, you don’t have time to say hello to anyone – there’s a case waiting for you, somewhere in Florida.
Reid avoids your eyes. His body language tells you something is wrong, so you assume whoever he confessed to didn’t reciprocate (they’re insane) and he’s dealing with it. So you don’t press.
Spencer pretends to sleep the entire jet ride. He’s avoiding everyone, not just you.
He spent the whole weekend beating himself up. He drove to your apartment on Saturday, sat outside for so long a neighbour knocked on his window and asked if he was lost, but couldn’t bring himself to step foot out of his car.
So he locked himself in his room, away from you and your loveliness and away from his phone because he knew you texted him and he knew you’d send some soft message about being there for him if he needs anything and he didn’t need to be reminded of how beautiful and out of reach you are.
Derek seemed to be waiting for him Monday morning, arms crossed as he held a cup of coffee. It was weird seeing him in before Spencer.
“How’d it go?” He immediately asked.
“How’d what go?” Spencer mumbles, flinging his bag on the floor by his desk. He slumps in his seat.
Derek raises a dark eyebrow, “You know what, pretty boy. You had a big thing? Big plan?”
“Didn’t work out.”
It doesn’t take a profiler to realise Spencer is very clearly saying leave me alone. Leave it alone.
Derek isn’t one to leave it alone. Especially when it comes to Spencer.
He sighs and moves a little closer to Spencer’s desk, just in case someone overhears them.
“What happened?”
“That’s exactly it,” Spencer slams open a file, “Nothing happened.”
“And why did nothing happen?”
“Because I’m an idiot that can’t even tell a girl how I feel.”
“Whoa- hey!”
Derek spins Spencer’s chair so they’re face to face. Derek takes one look in Spencer’s eyes and knows what’s going on – he got too into his head and backed out at the last minute.
“You’re not an idiot. Why didn’t you do it?”
Spencer shrugs, “I got to her apartment. I had flowers, too. I don’t know.”
Derek’s evidently concerned – Spencer’s beaten up over this, over whoever this girl is, and he deserves the chance to experience love. Spencer deserves a lot more than he himself thinks he does.
“You seemed really excited, man. You can still do it. Just cause you try once and it doesn’t work out doesn’t mean you can’t ever try again.”
Spencer stares off into the distance, accidentally ignoring Derek as his thoughts slip out of his mouth, “Yeah, it probably wouldn’t have worked anyway – I was stupid to think I could get someone like her.”
“Hey, no.” Derek nudges Spencer’s shoulder so he looks at him again, “Don’t talk like that. You’re one hell of a guy, Reid. All you gotta do is get that confidence that you had Friday night back, and you’re all set. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
Spencer gives a feeble nod. Derek moves back to his desk, knowing he isn’t convinced, but he isn’t done yet.
+++
Later, in Florida, Spencer’s making a coffee in the precinct’s kitchen after waiting twenty minutes for you to leave. Luck’s on his side, for once, and you’ve been working non-stop with Prentiss going crime scene to crime scene so he hasn’t had to actively avoid you. You smile at him every chance you get, though, and it distracts him.
Someone clears their throat behind him. It’s Penelope, whom Spencer didn’t realise was invited on this case.
She looks guilty. Spencer recognises that face; the face she has when she’s done something she shouldn’t have or knows something she isn’t really supposed to. Given current circumstances, Spencer bets it’s the latter reason.
“Morgan told me something he shouldn’t have.”
Bingo.
He leans against the kitchen counter, stirring his coffee absentmindedly.
“What did he tell you?” He asks, feigning tranquillity. Inside he’s screaming non-stop.
She’s got her hands clasped together in front of her, almost innocently, and fiddles with her fingers, “He told me you needed assistance in the love department.” Before he can object, she continues, “And I am willing to do anything if it means our resident weirdo-slash-genius falls in love and gets to experience some much needed cuteness.”
There’s no point in lying to her. There’s also no point in being mad that Morgan told her about his situation – they’re kind of a package deal. And, who knows, Garcia might be able to help.
“So…” She sways, trying (and failing) to appear nonchalant, “Who’s the lucky lady?”
Spencer shuffles on the spot, scuffing his shoes against the floor. He debates whether he should tell her, since, you know, you’re in the next room over, but Spencer worries that Garcia is so good at her job she’d somehow find out through hacking Spencer’s phone, or maybe somehow hacking his dreams. His subconscious. He’s terrified of Garcia and her abilities.
“You can tell me.” She insists, “I’m much better at keeping secrets than Morgan.”
Spencer turns away from her, she steps closer, and he mumbles your name.
“What?”
“Y/N.”
“WHAT?!”
Spencer spins, hands coming up to tell Garcia to shut up and Garcia immediately covers her mouth in both shock and hopefully so she doesn’t shout again.
“Since when?!” She screeches. “How could I not have known?! Oh God, almighty Doctor Reid, I feel like I’ve failed you by not realising earlier.”
Her enthusiasm makes him smile, for the first time in far too long. Garcia has that power – this innate skill to comfort those around her and make them feel special, make them smile when the world feels like its collapsing.
“Let me help!” She requests.
Spencer’s clearly hesitant. He knows it’s a bad idea.
“Please!” She begs, “I just- I have so many ideas of how you can go about this. Let me brainstorm, get back to you, and if I’m too over-the-top you can tell me no and we’ll pretend it never happened!”
He takes a deep breath. Yes, Garcia is the definition of over-the-top, but that’s one of his favourite things about her. It’s your favourite thing, too. And he did tell Morgan he had big plans. Anything involving Garcia is a big plan with big payoff.
“This is between us.”
“I’ll take it to the grave. Unless you realise how amazing my ideas are and use one to tell Y/N how you feel and then years later I get to commend myself during my maid of honour speech at your wedding.”
She looks ecstatic, hands now together under her jaw as her eyes twinkle. Spencer can’t help but laugh at her eagerness.
+++
The next day, the team returns to Quantico after a semi-successful case. The general mood is good and Morgan invites everyone out for drinks – Spencer declines, but you have your first full conversation since last Friday.
“C’mon, Spence,” Your head rests against the jet seat and you blink sleepily at him, “I feel like I haven’t spoken to you for years!”
Spencer gives you a small smile, “I promised my mom I’d call her tonight. Sorry, Y/N.”
You nod in understanding, “Will you tell her I say hi?”
“Of course. She loves you.”
You grin at eachother, immediately lost in your own world. You’ve missed him more than you realised, and you have no idea what’s going through his head, but you’re happy that you’ve had this – a Spencer Reid smile that makes you feel at home and on top of the world simultaneously.
Spencer has to tear his eyes away before he blurts something stupid, like she’s not the only one that loves you.
+++
“Spencer!” Garcia greets, Cheshire cat grin on her face. “I need to see you in my dungeon, please. Immediately.”
Spencer drops the file he’s holding. Unfortunately, Penelope’s request caught the attention of the whole team.
“What business do you have in the villain’s lair, Reid?” Derek asks. You’ve looked up from your computer, Emily smirking and leaning back in her chair in expectation.
“Uh…”
“Important nerd business. Go away.” Garcia says, eyes narrow as she tugs Spencer’s hand. He’s whisked away from any further questioning, leaving the befuddled team behind.
He isn’t sure what to expect when he stumbles into Penelope’s second home, but the display in front of him explains why he overheard a conversation about missing evidence boards earlier. Penelope’s obviously been using the new printer in her cave to her advantage – there’s at least twenty different pictures printed out on one board titled “date ideas”, then the board on the right has a picture of Spencer and you in the centre with a perfectly drawn heart around it. Under and around that is a mixture of love quotes, including song lyrics and quotes directly from romantic movies. He notices “The Parliament of Fowls” on there – Garcia remembers that he mentioned it’s considered the first Valentines poem?
“Whoa,” Is all he can say.
“I know it’s a little intense,” Garcia squirms, “But! I started scrolling through Pinterest and couldn’t stop. I don’t know what came over me, maybe some type of love deity, but I started thinking about you and Y/N in a classic love film in, like, black and white and I…”
She’s out of breath from animatedly explaining.
Spencer laughs through his nose, almost a scoff, but he’s impressed. He shouldn’t have expected anything else from the Penelope Garcia.
As Spencer wanders towards the first board, Garcia follows him like a shadow, “My personal favourite is-“ She points to a picture of chocolate fondue with faceless people in very little clothing, “-this one.”
Spencer awkwardly clears his throat when he begins to think of you and him like that.
“A little much for your declaration of love, though, I get it,” Garcia nods.
He scans the board – heart speeding up when he moves from idea to idea and picturing you and him in each one. He can’t help but think no, that one would be good for our anniversary – ah, she’d love to do that one for her birthday.
“What’re you thinking?” Garcia asks quietly. She knows his brain is whirring like her computer drive, so she approaches him gently.
“This one.” He says. “Where should we do it?”
Garcia grins behind him. The one he’s referring to shows a dinner table set up outside, brown wooded table with white wooden chairs opposite eachother. There’s flowers at the centre, a bottle of wine already poured in each glass in front of a basket of cookies, and the area around is shrouded by shrubbery, fairy lights hanging delicately from every-which-way.
It’s perfect. You love fairy lights, Spencer loves cookies, and the set-up looks private enough for Spencer to feel confident when he empties his heart and soul to you.
“The roof.” Garcia says wistfully.
“We have access to that?”
“Yes.” They both know they don’t. “Leave it to me. Oh… one more thing.” She adds, hesitantly, “Can Morgan help? I’m a lot of things, including emotionally strong and your love guru, but physically I’m gonna need some assistance.”
Spencer doesn’t even need to agree – Morgan’s gonna involve himself no matter what.
+++
Five o’clock is quickly approaching and you’re slumped over your desk, lost in your work. You need to be lost in it, because ever since Garcia released Spencer from her office right after lunch he’s been sneaking glances at you (he’s not sneaky) and has made several attempts to approach you but decided against it, sharply turning and pretending he meant to go another way instead.
You are beyond confused. You assume it’s to do with the girl he’s been trying to get over – you hope he’s been trying to build the confidence to tell you exactly what happened and maybe, you really hope, he’ll invite you over for the weekend so you can slip back into your old routine.
“Psst.”
You assume they’re not trying to get your attention, so you don’t move.
“Psst!”
You still don’t move.
“Y/N!”
Your head snaps up to Spencer leaning over the divider between your desks. He looks alarmed – which is odd, given he’s the one who called you – and he opens and closes his mouth a few times before he finally speaks.
“Are you busy tonight?” He sits back and, if he wasn’t so goddamn tall, all you’d be able to see would be his eyes. His added height means you can see his eyes and his nose. You wanna kiss it.
You smile – this is an olive branch, “I am completely available for whatever it is you might need.”
You sound incredibly eager, which you are. You miss him.
His cheeks move upwards, a smile, “Can I talk to you, later, on the roof? Uh-“ He clears his throat, “-I need to tell you something.”
You raise an eyebrow, “You’re not gonna push me off, right?”
“No,” He laughs.
“Promise me.”
Now he guffaws, “I would never, Y/N!”
“Promise me, Reid!”
“Alright, alright! I promise!” He’s jokingly raising his hands in a form of surrender.
You give him another smile and turn back to your work. You feel at ease, now, thinking he’s finally gonna tell you what happened on the weekend – finally you’ll be able to help him and go back to normal.
Spencer, on the other hand, is the exact opposite of ease. He’s about to pour his heart out to you.
He takes a deep breath and looks back to his computer, which is open on a tab titled “How to Tell Someone You Like Them.”
Step 3: Be Confident.
Spencer opens a new tab and searches, “How to be confident.”
+++
Garcia hacks into Spencer’s computer to open a document and type that the roof is ready. She wishes him luck, tells him she loves him, and calls dibs on being the godmother of your future children. As if she doesn’t have enough godchildren as it is.
He clears his throat and your head snaps towards him. You’ve been done for a while, playing Tetris on your phone, waiting for Spencer to take you to the roof where he swears he won’t kill you – you’re not entirely convinced.
“Um-“ He scratches his neck, “You ready to go?”
You nod and give him a weak smile in hopes it gives him some type of reassurance.
“Whatever happened, it’s okay, Spence.”
All he does is nod in return, gathering his coat and bag. He doesn’t really register what you say, or he would’ve been very confused.
You follow him up to the roof. The elevator ride is silent and Spencer is jittery; his hands twitch and tap against his legs, he’s bouncing on his toes and he keeps looking at you through the corner of his eye. You’ve taken several deep breaths to calm your racing heart – you hate heights, and this is the closest you’ve been to Spencer in a week. This will be the longest conversation you’ve had with him in a week, too.
The second the doors open, Spencer leaps in front of you.
“Wait!”
You jump back in surprise, “What? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Completely fine. Just… when we get there, let me explain first, okay? Before you say anything.” He’s pleading, as if you’ve already told him no. You look at him with furrowed brows and mumble an ‘okay’.
You’re visibly confused as you trek up the flight of stairs to the roof. Spencer pushes open the fire door and the first thing you notice is how bright the roof is – you always assumed it’d be dark, little light, especially at night like this.
Wait.
There’s fairy lights… everywhere. You’re pretty sure this isn’t the norm for the FBI roof.
Spencer is equally as awed at what he sees before him - it’s exactly the photo he saw in Garcia’s cave brought to life, but he’s too distracted by you to fully appreciate it. You look like a child on Christmas; eyes wide, pupils blown, mouth slightly agape. You’re gorgeous.
“What…is this, Spence?” You wonder, noticing the set table, fingers grazing the roses that sit in a vase in the middle. They’re fresh and smell wonderful.
He stands a little behind you, fiddling with his hands, and clears his throat, “Would you like to take a seat?”
You do. When he finally sits, he pours you a glass of wine and you immediately take an anxious sip. Although Rossi is a big fan of wine, you rarely take interest in it only when Spencer’s involved. You’ve come to associate wine with him – a smile peeks out from your glass as you stare at the man opposite you.
“I need to get something off my chest. But there’s cookies, if you want one,” He picks one up from his plate, breaking it in half and giving it to you. He’s stalling, but you seem to take the bait and bite into it.
“Are these from the bakery two blocks away?”
“Yeah,” He replies, but he isn’t really paying attention. He doesn’t know where to begin.
You wait patiently for him to open up. You’re still unsure of what to make of all of this – the beautiful setting, the wine, the flowers, the lights. God, the lights are dazzling in the Virginia night sky. You need context, and you need it now.
“Spence-“
“Listen.”
“Oh.”
“Sorry, I just…” He trails off, “I need to say what I need to say before I back out again.”
You fold your hands in your lap. You’re ready for whatever’s to come.
“Do you know how long we’ve known eachother?” He asks. His head tilts like a puppy.
“Nearly five years. Our friendaversary is coming up, you know.”
You realise, then, that this must be a celebration for that – that explains the… typically romantic setting. Before you can open your mouth to ask if that what’s this is, Spencer speaks.
“Four years, three-hundred and sixty days. That’s how long we’ve known eachother.”
“If we were dating, we would’ve been my longest relationship the second we passed a year.”
You don’t know why you said it, but it flusters him. He has to pause to take a breath and collect his thoughts.
“I’ve been in love with you for four years and three hundred and fifty-eight days, Y/N.”
It’s silent as you process and he figures out how to continue.
“I knew you were special when you were introduced to us. Hotch already had such a soft spot for you, and you had this way about you that made us all fall in love instantly. I remember Garcia did a background check the second she found out your name and she said you remind her of me and I… that freaked me out, to be honest. I thought you’d try to replace me.” He huffs a laugh, but can’t bring himself to look you in the eye, “I realised I was in love with you when you drunkenly defended me. Do you remember that?” His eyes flicker to yours for half a second – you’re wide-eyed, “You’d known me for two days at that point, but we’d already done a case together so we were celebrating. And these guys at the bar were whispering about me, acting like I couldn’t hear them, and the second you realised what was happening you stood up, stormed towards them and gave them a piece of your mind. It was incredible.
“You barely knew me, at least personally, but you thought so highly of me you scolded a group of drunk bodybuilders without a second thought. You made them apologise – it was hysterical watching someone half their size force them into submission like that – and when you were done you asked if I wanted to leave and go get ice cream. We couldn’t, cause you vomited on the way there, but I knew in that moment I loved you and I feel so hard, so quickly, I didn’t know what to do. And you never… you never indicated you thought of me as anything other than a friend so I didn’t try. Then you dated Greg who, in my opinion, sucked on his best days, and you encouraged me to date Abigail and I…”
He’s run out of breath and of things to say.
“I just love you, Y/N. I’m in love with you.” He adds, “I hope that’s okay.”
He finally looks at you, then. You’re just staring and he panics when he can’t make out what you’re feeling. He’s always been able to read you, you’ve always hated the saying that eyes are the windows to the soul because your eyes are always your tell, but now they’re… glassy.
You’re crying.
“Spencer…” You gasp, throat tight.
“It’s okay.” Spencer gives a tight-lipped smile. He knows what’s coming. He should’ve expected it. He has been expecting it.
“I love you too, Spence.”
Spencer chokes on air. He takes a gulp of wine.
You give him a teary smile in disbelief, “I’ve always loved you, Spence. I thought you knew that – I thought that big brain of yours knew exactly how I felt and… you didn’t do anything about it so I thought you didn’t feel the same. Spencer…”
He slowly moves a hand to place it palm-up on the table. Immediately you place your hand in his, your grip tight as you lovingly stare at him. This feels unreal.
“I’m in love with you too, you idiot.” You half laugh, half cry, “If you’ve really loved me this long, we’ve wasted so much time! God, we’re both idiots.”
Spencer’s crying too, now, and he starts laughing with you.
You’re two idiots in love, sitting opposite eachother on the roof of your place of work in a dream-like surrounding filled with fairy lights and flowers, and you could’ve been doing this for years.
Spencer sniffles, looking at you through his wet eyelashes, “Would you like to be my girlfriend?”
“If I say yes, will I get more dates like this?” You tease.
“Well, Garcia has a whole evidence board of date ideas she stole from Pinterest. We have enough ideas to last a lifetime.” He giggles.
“Penny was in on this?!”
Spencer gives a heh, “This is all thanks to her, so yeah.”
“She’s always had our backs.”
“She’s also now going to be convinced she’s cupid.”
You laugh again, and can’t help yourself when you lean across the table, still gripping Spencer’s hand, and letting your lips fall on his. Spencer leans into you, lips moving against yours as you both try to suppress grins.
You pull back slightly, Spencer’s lips following you, and whisper, “I would love to be your girlfriend.”
He kisses you again. And again. And again, just cause he can.
Big plan, big payoff. You’re worth every little stress and more.
#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfic#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fanfic#mine#garcia is watching everything through the security cameras btw#you think she'd do all this and NOT watch her hard work flourish?#think AGAIN
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
prompt: “Is that my shirt you’re wearing?”
thank you to my darling @yeojaa for sending this in and thank you to my darling @hobi-gif for beta reading it for me, you are both such lovely stars in the night sky of my life xoxo
pairing: seokjin x reader / word count: 1.9k / genre: fluff (sfw/general) / warnings: none!
--
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single woman in possession of a hot roommate, must want to jump his bones.
Like. C’mon. Kim Seokjin is nothing if not easy on the eyes. It’s not enough that he has the body proportions of a god—broad shoulders, lovely thighs, everything in its place and perfectly in line with his height and his poise—he has a beautiful face, too. Those lips. That jaw. Those eyes. You don’t want to wax lyrical but it really is like God decided to take his time making Kim Seokjin and everyone else (like you) was just left with the dregs; the stuff that wasn’t good enough for Jin and was thrown aside.
The worst thing, though. The worst thing. The absolute worst thing about Kim Seokjin is that he is A Nice Person.
You’d barely known each other, only a month into your cohabitation when he’d come across you crying into a tub of ice cream in the kitchen, sobbing over the guy who’d finally grown bored of stringing you along with promises of eventually becoming your actual boyfriend and had just cut you off altogether after one final lay. You were utterly heartbroken and entirely mortified when you noticed Jin standing in the kitchen doorway as you clumsily tried to dig your spoon into the still-hard vanilla, but he’d just slid down onto the floor next to you with a spoon in one hand as the other came to rest on your shoulder. He’d listened to you snivel and sniffle, quietly eating the weirdly chemical-flavoured chocolate ice cream in the own-brand Neapolitan tub you favoured—your least favourite and the one you always left till last.
Once a guy’s seen you crying your eyes out on the kitchen floor in old pyjamas, and you’ve seen him eat five pots of super hot instant noodles on the trot and chase the whole thing down with an entire box of doughnuts, you sort of get to know each other as people—both things are revealing in different ways—and it’s hard for that to not lead to friendship.
You could have dealt with Jin if he was just hot. But he’s hot and nice and funny, utterly ridiculous; he doesn’t take himself seriously while also knowing how to rein himself in when necessary to not overwhelm people and basically you’ve been crushing on him in a major, major way for a while now.
And like. Seokjin is single, so technically you have a chance. But you also have absolutely no chance at all, because? Hello? Kim Seokjin? You? You? Kim Seokjin? He’s so far out of your league he may as well be in another galaxy. And he’s also probably the best roommate you’ve ever had (cleans up after himself, doesn’t microwave fish and stink up the place, likes the same TV shows as you so there are no arguments over the remote), so you’re not about to throw a wrench into the mix by doing something stupid like confessing that you like him.
“Right, I should be back around ten,” says Seokjin. He’s all dressed up for a noraebang night with his friends—well, not dressed up really, they’re just gonna get drunk while wailing songs at the top of their lungs in a small room so it’s not like he has to go all out, but Seokjin makes everything look good. “Are you sure you don’t want to come?”
Seokjin is nice and hot and funny and friendly. Honestly, he’s just a dreamboat of a roommate and a man, with great friends too. Normally you would have leaped at the chance to spend a night out with Seokjin and the other guys, but you’d spilled your drink on Yoongi last time and were still convinced that he was plotting your imminent demise. Even if Seokjin insists otherwise, you want to give Yoongi a wide berth for a little while longer in the hopes he’ll suddenly suffer a bout of amnesia and forget that you spilled a very boozy and sticky Oreo and Baileys cocktail(/glorified milkshake) on him and ruined his shoes.
“I’m good,” you say. “But make sure you don’t have any fun without me and you have to let everyone know that it’s because I’m not there.”
Jin laughs, a wet squeegee of a sound, and it goes straight to your heart. “I’ll pass on the message,” he promises, blowing you a tiny kiss as he goes.
(Ugh, he’s so cute. You hate him.) (No, you don’t.)
You seem to be setting a trend for yourself in the drink-spilling department, though. During an ad break you decide to get yourself a drink, and even though it’s just a Boys Over Flowers rerun that you’ve seen multiple times, you rush as you pour yourself a glass of orange juice—you don’t want to take too long and miss anything. Suffice to say you Fuck Up and end up with a shirt and trousers covered in juice and pulp and you miss a bunch of the episode as you clean it up, huffing dramatically to yourself the whole time, before scarpering towards your bedroom for some new clothes.
At least, that’s the plan. You pass by Seokjin’s open door and pause, taking in the sight of a few discarded bits of clothing on his bed and across the back of his chair, things he’d clearly decided weren’t worth wearing out tonight. The one that’s caught your eye is the vibrant pink shirt strewn over his duvet, one of your favourites, one you haven’t seen him wear in a while. It’s one of your favourites because he just looks so cosy in it—Jin ends up with a lot of oversized clothes so they can fit over his shoulders, but he practically swims in material when he wears this shirt, flapping the sleeves at you and then laughing at his own antics. He could wear it as a dress if he wanted to, probably.
… so could you, if you wanted to, probably.
… but you shouldn’t. Like, that’s weird. Jin is your roommate and even if he’s made it clear that he has an open door policy, going in through said open door to get a bit of his clothing is weird. Definitely creepy.
But… you’ve already kicked off your dirtied outfit and you’re just in your underwear so you can’t be blamed for being worried if you’re going to get cold, right? You’re just grabbing the closest bit of clothing, aren’t you?
… You’ll take it off before he gets back and put it in the laundry with everything else; he won’t notice. You’ll just take this awful awful secret to the grave and never tell anyone about your invasive actions.
Oh, man, the shirt smells so good. You share the same laundry detergent but Jin had clearly tried this on before discarding it, the scent of his cologne lingering in the air as you end up swamped in the shirt (/shirt dress), and you don���t regret this. Well, you do, but also you don’t. It’s like being wrapped up in Jin’s arms. Jin’s not shy about giving you hugs but there’s something altogether different about wearing someone’s clothes.
You end up curled up on the sofa as you watch more Boys Over Flowers, knees to your chest and revelling in how cosy and small Jin’s massive shirt makes you feel. You have to hitch the material up so that your hands peep out the ends of the sleeves. Sweater paws are cute on everyone, even yourself, and you giggle as you fumble for the remote so that you can check how many more episodes there are before it turns to something else. You can indulge yourself for a bit. As a treat.
“Unbelievable, I can’t believe Minji did that,” you mutter, so caught up in the drama of it all (as if you haven’t seen this episode four times) that you don’t hear the key turning in the lock, nor do you hear the footsteps that are heading towards you—what you do hear, however, is the sudden sound of Seokjin’s voice, freezing like a rabbit caught in headlights when you do.
“I forgot my wallet,” he says. “I—”
And that’s how he catches you, wide-eyed as you stare back at him, wishing that you could bury yourself between the sofa pillows so that he can’t see you. His keys are still in his hand and his mouth is open around an unfinished word as he takes the sight of you in, scrunched up against the armrest in some ridiculous attempt to shrink yourself small enough that he would have missed you.
He stares. You stare. You both stare. And then—
“Is that my shirt you’re wearing?”
“No!” A high-pitched shrill of an obvious lie. “No, uh, nope. Nuh-uh. Haha, oh, Jin, always such a jokester, you.”
You want the sofa to suddenly develop sentience and swallow you whole, just so you can be out of this situation. So you wouldn’t have to watch as a smile starts to spread over Jin’s face, the way there’s a little glint in his eyes, the way he opens his mouth and says—
“You know, you didn’t have to turn down noraebang just so you could wear my clothes. You just had to ask, I would have said yes.” He doesn’t seem creeped out, just amused, which is—well, it’s better, but, what? He’s laughing at you? You don’t know if that’s worse, somehow, actually.
“I didn’t! I spilled orange juice on my shirt and then I saw this shirt and you weren’t home—”
“Aha, so you admit it, it’s not your shirt,” Jin proclaims. He looks smug.
“Oh my God, I am full of regret,” you groan. “My life is a disaster. Can we pretend this never happened? I will pay you literal money. Please.”
At this, Jin’s eyes turn soft. “Do you really want that?”
“I—wuh? Do I really want us both to pretend you didn’t walk in on me wearing your shirt like some weird stalker or something? Absolutely. Yes. Let’s do that.”
“I wasn’t joking about letting you wear my clothes,” he says. There’s a note to his voice, something a little doughy, yielding and warm for you, and—you know what your gut is screaming at you, but— “I always thought you’d look cute in them, and I was right.”
You splutter. Jin thought you’d look cute—he’s been thinking about you wearing his clothes—the sort of thing that, you know, couples do. But this is Kim Seokjin you’re talking about. There’s no way he’s attracted to you in the way you’re attracted to him.
… but he is looking at you in a way that’s soft and tender, the same look you give him when you think he isn’t looking.
“Jin,” you say, slow. “Are you…”
“The most handsome man alive? Yes, I am.”
You make a face at his interruption and he laughs at your expression before going quiet, eyes so big and lovely and warm as he smiles at you, and you continue to speak. “Are you saying you want to, y’know. See me wearing more of your clothes? Or, uh... Less clothes in general?”
You can feel the blood rising in your cheeks as you say this, and you can see the red that starts to tinge the top of Jin’s ears, exquisite and wonderful. “I’m saying that I’m happy to give you what’s mine, including my clothes,” he says. “And my time. And love.”
You end up pulling the excess material of the shirt over your head as you turn into some sort of bright pink turtle, overwhelmed and in disbelief but so happy.
Judging from Jin’s laughter and the warmth of his hands reaching for yours in their too-long sleeves, he is, too.
#bts#bts au#bts imagine#bts fic#bts oneshot#bts drabble#cypherwritersnet#bts fluff#jin x reader#seokjin x reader#jin x you#seokjin x you#seokjin#kim seokjin#seokjin fanfic#jin fanfic#jin fic#seokjin fic#seokjin x oc#seokjin oneshot#I'm practicing writing shorter fics and it's HARD bc my brain is like. you gotta. flesh out the scene.#you gotta explain things. you gotta establish the world.#joy.masterlist
682 notes
·
View notes
Text
Hypothetical (Javier Pena X Reader)
Not My GIF
A/N: So, firstly I want to start by saying thanks for 200 followers?!?!?!? like that is awesome!! Secondly, this was a request that I had a lot of fun writing! and I actually really like it, I hope you do too. Also, for the Spanish parts I used google translate because I don’t speak the language so it maybe wont be entirely accurate. Sorry for any mistakes. Stay safe :)
Genre: Fluff
Warnings: fem!reader, none really, Soft!Javi, drinking, Pedro Pascal comes with his own warning
Summary: There’s this one girl who he really likes, hypothetically what would happen if he asked her out?
Javier let out a deep sigh as he pulled up outside his favourite bar. It was a small and quiet place so it was perfect for him, someone who spends all day surrounded by people who couldn’t careless about him or anything else really. But the main reason he went there was because of the barmaid that was always working on his drinking time. If anyone could make him feel better about his shit life, it was her.
His entrance into the bar was the same as it had been since the first time he ever went there. The bar was quiet, a few regulars scattered about the place, a quiet but almost obvious song playing in the background. And (Y/N), the barmaid, was making and servings drinks between wiping down the bar, making light but idle chat with the ones she served and the ones who sat at the bar.
If we go by the story that barmaids are there to listen to problems, (Y/N) certainly is the perfect barmaid. She was always a welcome listener if anyone ever had an issue. She was nice to talk to. She was a friend to all, but she could be firm when she needed to. That was evident to Javi when one guy started getting a little too flirty and a little to handsy towards her, she firmly put him in his place that shocked everyone, and Javi hadn’t ever seen that guy again.
Javi sat in his regular seat, (Y/N) was talking to someone else. Oscar, his name was, if Javier remembered correctly. A writer, not a journalist, a writer. Apparently he was writing a fictional book, something to do with mysteries and detectives, most likely a children’s book but who was Javi to judge? If it worked out for him, go for it. It wasn’t like Javier was any better off, hating every second of his infuriating life, but in a strange way he knew he wouldn’t change it. Yet.
(Y/N) seemed to clock Javi’s presence and skilfully managed to shorten the conversation without making it seem like she was trying to get away from Oscar. She didn’t even need to ask Javier what he wanted, she had known him long enough to know what drink he was in the mood for, and right now he was in the mood for whiskey on ice.
She gently placed the glass in front of him with a smile before leaning on the bar in front of him “tough day?” She asked quietly.
He nodded and took a large swig on his freshly poured drink “it always is (Y/N)” he told her flatly.
“You should take a day off” she said pushing herself off the bar and preparing drinks for other who had just walked in. She had a great memory and knew exactly what drink to make each person, this didn’t make Javi seem as special to her as he would like, but she did seem to spend more time talking to him then anyone else in the bar. “You’ll work yourself to death”
“If only” he laughed dryly “anything to get out of this...constant loop of failure” he took his drink in his hand and gently swirled the amber liquid.
“Javier, in all seriousness, I really do think you should have at least one day off. It’s not healthy working as much as you do, especially in the job that you do” she served a few others, giving them polite smiles as she continued talking to Javi.
“It’s because of what I do that I don’t think I’ll be able to get a day off” he said. She let out a defeated sigh and came back to stand in front of him again.
“I still think you should try” she said
“And do what, on my hypothetical day off?”
“Well, you could hypothetically relax. Take some time for yourself. Or...we could...hypothetically maybe go out..or something” her gaze had shifted to the cloth she used to wipe down the bar which suddenly seemed like the most interesting thing in the world.
“You mean like a hypothetical date?” He asked takin a smug sip of his now empty drink.
She took the glass from him and began to refill it “unless you don’t want to...in which case that’s fine...”
“And... what if I did want too?” He asked as she set his refilled glass in front of him. “What would you say?”
“Then I’d say ask for a day off, and that I work 6-10pm Monday through Friday and 5-11:30pm on weekends” she smiled sheepishly as she went about cleaning a glass before filling it for another customer.
“I think,” he began, rather proudly, “If I’m taking a day off, hypothetically of course, then you should take a day off too”
“I only work nights Javi” she chuckled.
“That may be” he hummed, swirling the amber liquid in his glass “but those nights must be long. Especially when you have people like me giving you sob stories”
“I don’t mind it” she said quietly as she lent on the bar. He instinctively moved forward looking at her with fondness in his eyes which she returned. “It’s good company”
“Yeah?” He said just as quietly, a softness in his voice that was new to her. It was as if in that moment all his worries had slipped away and he was just a normal guy with a normal girl.
“Yeah” she agreed softly.
“Tomorrow? Here, at six?” He offered quickly.
“It’s a date” she smiled.
Tomorrow, there, at six couldn’t come quick enough for him. He had somehow managed to grab a day off which didn’t do him any favours. He should’ve been relaxing but he was far too excited to relax. He felt young. Like a lovesick teenager asking his crush out or something. But in some respects, that what he was. He certainly liked her, no one made his day quite like she did. He was giddy at the thought of actually going in a date with her.
Luckily for him, the day seemed to fly past and soon it was coming up on six. Javi pulled up to the bar and made his way inside. She wasn’t behind the bar. Instead it was a young blonde girl who he had never seen before. But he wasn’t too bothered about that. His girl was sat at the bar swirling her drink in her glass before taking a sip of it.
He couldn’t help but smile. Butterflies swirled in his stomach. He felt amazing. He was quick to compose himself and casually walked over to the bar taking up the seat beside her. She didn’t clock him at first, only turning to look at him when he spoke.
“So, do you come here often?” He asked in a smooth voice, hiding his giddiness well.
She turned her head and looked at him. Her eyes softened as soon as they met his and she smiled softly at him as she placed her drink back down. “Considering I work here,” she said “yes. What about you? Are you a frequent visitor or are you just passing by?” She asked resting her elbow in the bar and her chin on her open palm as she looked at him with the same fondness as the day before.
“Frequent. But with company like this, can you blame me?”
“Certainly not” she smiled.
He gave her a quick scan up and down, a soft smile finding its way to his face, “you look positively stunning tonight”
(Y/N) let out a nervous laugh and turned her gaze away from him briefly “thank you Javi. You don’t look too bad yourself” she said looking back at him “clearly a day off has refreshed you”
“I have to admit, I haven’t done much relaxing”
“Oh? What have you been doing instead?”
Being far too excited about this date is what he wanted to say. “Just stuff” he said “my job had made it so I find it pretty much impossible to sit down for a while”
“That’s a real shame. I think I relaxed too much” she laughed “I didn’t get out of bed until 1. I was still in my pyjamas an hour ago”
He laughed at her words. He ordered a drink and they moved to a free table near the back of the bar where they sat, drank, spoke and laughed for the remainder of the night. Right up until closing time. Maybe he didn’t spend his day relaxing, but that night with her made him feel more relaxed then he ever had in his life.
But nothing good lasts forever. And they both soon found themselves outside her apartment. “Well, this is me” she said gesturing awkwardly to the door.
“I really enjoyed tonight” they both said at the same time making them both laugh.
“I really did” Javi continued, “and I should thank you. If it weren’t for you, I probably would be working myself to death. But it was nice to have a day off. A real one”
“You don’t need to thank me. You deserve a break. You work so hard and do so much for the people in this country and quite possibly the world. That’s a heavy burden to bear. But you bear it because it’s the right thing to do. Even if you have to shake the wrong hands to get there”
“I wish I shared your confidence” he said “sometimes I think we’re no worse then they are...”
She stepped forwards and placed a soft kiss on his cheek “you’re nothing like they are. You’re a good person Javi. A good person, with a kind heart. And I’m always here for you should you need me”
For a moment they stood in silence looking at each other before Javi made the move, taking her face between his hands and pressing his lips to hers. She brought her hands to rest on his waist lightly as she sunk into his kiss which she had long desired. It was so much better then she could’ve ever imagined. It was so gentle and loving, but yet a passion in it that made her stomach flip every which way possible.
He slowly pulled away from her, resting his forehead against hers. She smiled as they swapped their hand positions, his hands falling to her waist whilst her hands rose to rest on his cheeks. “I feel like that was long overdue” he said. She laughed softly and hummed with a nod.
“Yes. But hopefully we can make up for lost time” she said.
“Oh, for sure” he said before kiss her again, this time a little more deeply, a little more passionately. But it was just as thing were really staring to get going that the clicking of a door was heard, ignored at first but then a voice came which was less ignorable.
“(Y/N)? ¿Eres tú, querida?” (Is that you, dear?) A aged female voice came from two doors down. (Y/N)’s landlord. A nice lady, a very sweet lady. A lot nicer then most landlords in the world. (Y/N) and Javi pulled away from each other and (Y/N) looked over to the older lady, Mrs Ortega. She was wearing a light pink dressing gown, slippers and a night cap over her grey hair. Round glasses on her nose but she still had to squint to see the figures clearly.
“sí, señora Ortega. Lo siento, no quise despertarte” (Yes, Mrs Ortega. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you) (Y/N) apologised quietly, wondering if she would end up waking any other who were in the floor.
“Veo que tienes una amiga contigo” (I see you have a friend) she said with a hint of a smirk as she looked between (Y/N) and Javi who were still very close to each other.
“buenas noches señora” (good evening, ma’am) Javi said politely with a slight nod.
“Los dejo a los dos. Buenas noches querido” (I’ll leave you both to it. Good night, dear) she turned with a slight wave and waddled back into her apartment.
“buenas noches” (good night) (Y/N) called back quietly before the door was shut. She turned back to Javi who was looking lovingly at her, his nose now pressed against hers.
“tu español es sexy” (your Spanish is sexy) Javi said in a deep voice. “I never knew it was that good”
“I’m glad you think it’s good” she smiled. She paused for a moment and looked down, thinking over her next words. “Would-Would you like to come in?” She asked in a small voice, scared of rejection from him.
“Yes” He said simply. She smiled and turned to unlock her door “I have a late start tomorrow, so we should be fine”
“What do you think we would get up to to make you late anyway?” She asked as she opened her door and turned back to face him.
“Something hypothetical” he said before wrapping his arms around her and kissing her again as they fell into her apartment.
09/12/20
100 notes
·
View notes
Text
comptine d'un autre été, l'après-midi
or: yoongi's song
Pairing: yoongi x reader
Genre: meet-cute, slow born, fluff
Wordcount: 13.7k
Summary: when your favourite study spot is suddenly unavailable, a fit of annoyance and the tinkling of piano keys lead you to discover an entirely new space.
and along with it, someone to keep company.
The library's secretary looked down her nose at you, standing half a step below the desk.
Her voice was notably cooler as she spoke again.
"The section you would like to access is closed for cleaning for the entire week from today on. We apologize for any inconveniences, but there's nothing to be done about it. You will have to go and study elsewhere, I'm afraid."
The old crone leaned back in her chair, her beady eyes fixated on the screen of her computer once more. The chain on her glasses jingled softly.
You turned away from her, staring into the rows of bookshelves accusingly while the fingers around a stack of papers holding it up to your chest tapped furiously.
No studying in the library today.
Great.
There was no other place as good to study in as that particular nook you'd found while one day idling between the rows; nowhere else could you focus so well, so thoroughly. Hours could pass while you were engrossed in the material, and the prospect of being robbed of that, today of all days - and furthermore, for the whole week?
The sun falling through the narrow, high windows suddenly didn't seem as bright and cheery anymore.
Briefly you debated just sitting at one of the long tables in the main area, with everyone else - but quickly scrapped that thought. There were more people than usual there, courtesy of the partial blockage no doubt, and you knew it just wouldn't work out.
Still steaming, you turned a corner and pushed through the first set of doors you could find, really needing some air after this monumental setback.
The fresh breeze hit your face. It slipped through your jacket and caused a shiver to run down your entire form.
Blinking against the light you tried to orientate yourself.
A few steps forward on the stones surrounding this entrance, green with moss here and there, didn't bring the expected clarity concerning your surroundings that you'd hoped for; but instead you realized this was simply a part of campus you apparently had never seen before.
The curiosity about this new, uncharted area grew into the hollow left by the frustration. If you wouldn't be able to study in your favourite spot, you could at least roam the area here and see what mysteries might be hidden.
There was a lot of grass between the occasional tree, on a long hill softly sloping down into the residential area across a street down below. Then there were the campus buildings with their windows. Most had their blinds drawn, and only those on the higher floors were cracked open to let some air in.
It was so quiet.
Somewhere almost out of hearing range was a tingling sound, like windchimes.
You took a deep breath.
There was nowhere specific to go.
Already the stress about meeting your deadlines, the library closing down, it began to lose its edge.
The tinkling came wafting over with the breeze again and you turned your face towards it, feet beginning to move before you'd fully settled on what to do, where to go next.
The stones forming the path around the building were barely visible under the encroaching greenery. They cushioned your steps and softened the ground. A corner lay ahead, and after turning you were presented with more green space between two buildings, eventually ending in a wall that was most likely part of the ancient university campus, overgrown with ivy but still standing strong against time.
The tinkling had shifted from vaguely sounding like windchimes to definitely piano tunes, but it was still nice.
About three quarters to the wall stood an old picnic table under a maple tree.
The surface was a bit uneven, the table was made out of wood and students and time alike had both carved into the soft material.
The seat was slightly damp as well - you remembered the few drops this morning on your way to your lecture - but with your jacket placed over the seat it was a nice spot.
Great, even, as soon as the sun peeked through the clouds again, bringing warmth into the still air of the secluded spot.
Whoever was playing piano was probably close by, you thought after working on the sheets you'd brought for a bit.
The tunes perfectly fit into the overall mood resting in this place, underlining the tranquil state lasting over it.
It was like you had stepped into a pocket universe, with the general buzz of campus being left behind.
The chiming of a bell tower roused you from your work pace. Not having fully arrived in the real world yet you reached for your phone to check the time after counting the rings of the bell - was it really 5pm already?
Apparently it was, and you hurried to collect everything and stuff it into your bag.
Shouldering it, you brushed off your jacket and looked over the place to make sure you hadn't left anything behind once more before it really was time to leave if you still wanted to catch your usual train home.
The music was silent as you took your leave, and you wondered for how long it had been like that already.
Pushing through the doors back into the library was like waking from a pleasant dream. Even though it was the library, and as such calmer than the rest of campus, there was still the usual ruckus. A myriad of voices whispering and creating the white noise backdrop for shoes squeaking, chairs dragging over the floor, doors closing and the occasional shout.
The big communal university spaces were almost too loud to bear and you squinted your eyes at the air saturated with sounds.
Once the entrance hall gave you free and you were hurrying towards the public transport stations it was better again, but there was still a lot more technical sounds digging into your ear drums. You resolved to plugging your headphones in and were able to breathe a little easier while on your commute home, even without music playing.
The next day was free, no lectures to attend, but you still returned to get some more work done.
For a while you were afraid you wouldn't be able to find the picnic table under the maple tree again; that it had all been a wonderful, too good to be true, dream - but your nook in the library was still closed off and there was the door you'd gone through yesterday.
The table was still there, as was the tree, and today the wood was fully dry and birds were chirping in the ivy on the wall.
With a drink in hand and happiness upon finding the wonderful small place again in your heart you sat down to work again, and even though it was tedious and required a lot of forced attention, it somehow felt a little better doing it out here.
Every once in a while you had to make a break and go for a toilet run, refilling your water bottle or simply eating a snack you'd brought.
Between yesterday and today you hadn't seen anyone else out here, and so had little qualms about leaving your stuff unattended. Safe your phone and wallet, of course.
The sun, blinking through the clouds now and then, slowly wandered over the sky.
It must have been early afternoon when you lifted your head after a particularly nasty paragraph and heard the piano play again.
A smile spread on your face as you stretched your arms and allowed yourself a break, sat back and just listened to the notes.
Whoever was playing was good.
Not that you were an expert, but your ears liked it and that was what primarily counted.
Occasionally there was a break in the flowing tune, when whoever was playing went back and redid a couple notes, sometimes once, sometimes needing two attempts, until they were satisfied and continued.
You smiled and let your thoughts wander, momentarily forgetting about your work.
The week of not having access to your library nook went by much faster than anticipated.
On the following monday you stood in the foyer, waiting for a friend, when the small sign "Library fully open again!" caught your eye.
You stared at it for a moment longer, suddenly remembering that you had only found the almost magical table away from the craze of reality solely because there had been cleaning business at work cutting you off your old favourite spot.
You were still mentally trying to puzzle everything out when Jin came floundering around the corner, steps wide and an easy smile spreading on his face at your sight.
"-to one~!"
"What?" You looked up, and the expression on the other's face fell a bit.
"Aha! So you weren't listening at all, after all."
"Sorry. Bit caught up in my thoughts. Was there something you wanted to say?"
"Will you be telling me your secret how you worked through the entire material to that first book we're reading, already? Like… That was inhumanely fast. I know you're good, but honestly. Tell me your secrets." He poked a finger into the soft area between ribcage and belt, and you swerved to the side and away from him to escape it.
"A brilliant work ethic and iron self-discipline!" You chirped and Jin rolled his eyes with an overly dramatic sigh. He hooked an arm around your shoulder and dragged you into his side.
"If the Prof is threatening to let me fail this course, will you tell me then?"
"Kim Seokjin you better not be deliberately slacking off."
"I wasn't!" He pouted, steering you into the right hallway. "Not before, anyways. But if there's a cool new drug like Why-Phy that you're taking to get done sooner, you'll tell me, right?"
"Of course. It's either Why-Phy or blue crystal meth, Jinnie, you know me too well."
The brunet laughed and pressed a kiss to your temple.
Three weeks since the library had reopened and you still had yet to return to the comfortable little chair next to the table with its small reading light.
You'd been lucky with the weather.
So far it had only rained or been too windy to sit outside longer on days you were too busy to get work done next to the lectures, or had to go early because of your job on the side.
Looking up through the leaves on the tree, blinking against the sun, you hoped it would continue to stay like this.
It felt so nice to be here, so private.
The windows leading into the yard were never not covered with blinds, at least the ones in the part of the building you were looking at frequently whenever your eyes needed a break.
The most noise was the wind in the tree or the ivy; occasionally students would sit on the other side of the wall and have a chat but that was about it.
That, and the piano music.
By now you were fairly certain it came from a room on the first floor, somewhere above the place you were sitting at, but there was no way to look into any of the rooms there.
As you turned and squinted up to them once more, not really seeing them but more wondering what might lay beyond the glass, something moving caught your eye.
Had it been an animal?
You blinked to clear your vision, but by then whatever had caused the disturbance had disappeared.
Maybe someone had looked down?
The uncomfortable feeling hadn't taken root fully before you shooed it away; surely it had been something else, a reflection of a passing bird, probably. And even if someone had looked out and seen you sitting here, so what? It wasn't illegal.
You ended your self-assigned break and went back to the material, but the thought of someone watching you, intruding on the privacy you'd enjoyed here, didn't fully leave your mind.
After finishing up early for the day you decided to go try and see if there was a way into the building you'd sat in front of so often now, and if, maybe, you'd be able to find the room the music was coming from every other day.
By the time you had bested the maze of hallways and never before used by you doors leading into other unknown parts of the campus, it was late already.
You tried some of the doors that you thought were on the right floor, but all of them were locked and there was no music coming from anywhere, either.
Disappointed, you went home.
It was the weekend afterwards, but on the next monday you were back, now finding your way to the remote, barely used building a little easier already. There was a nice long break before your next lecture and you were curious to explore more.
You held the door open after passing through as someone approached from the inside, and then went on. Silence lasted on the hallways here.
A window going out from the staircase showed the familiar corner, with the last bit of the library barely visible behind it, and you felt satisfied knowing this was where you'd wanted to go.
On the first floor you paused to catch your breath.
The lights were on overhead, but no other person was in sight.
The doors were locked as well, much like they had been on friday.
You had almost given up hope when a knob turned in your palm and you almost fell into the room behind it as the door gave away.
Dust danced in the spare light that fell through the windows.
Sheets of paper littered the floor. A few tables were pushed to the walls, there was an old cupboard missing its two front doors. More paper and empty binders were stacked in the exposed compartments.
What dominated the room though was the grand piano in its middle.
The shiny black surface beckoned to be touched by your fingertips, and you couldn't hold back from running them over the sleek paint.
It seemed old, if the slightly rusted wheels at the bottom of the pillars it was standing on were anything to go by, but it looked very well kept.
The cover lowered over the keys opened without sound. Black and white keys shared the space underneath it.
It felt wrong to push them, entice sound when you knew there were usually much more skilled hands at work here, and so you gently put the cover back and let your gaze explore the room more.
A big sheet covered a mixpult along one of the walls, several electric keyboards were stacked on the floor beside it.
The walls were a faded yellow which must've been nice once but now looked stale.
There was more paper around the piano, discarded sheet music, printed and self-written, you noticed with surprise as you bent down to inspect it.
Maybe a handful were pinned to the wall closest to the piano, exclusively hand written and, by the looks of it, self-composed.
Whoever was working their magic here so often really had a passion, it seemed, and it made you wonder why they weren't busy doing this over in the faculty for music.
Then again, you mused while stepping up to the window, this place was incredible in getting creative juices flowing. You'd experienced it yourself with work, could only guess at how it must be for someone so musically inclined.
Your picnic table under the maple tree was maybe three steps to the right underneath the window, in direct line of sight from where you stood.
It felt almost weird, knowing that if whoever was practicing here so often had even only once stood up and walked towards the window to look outside had most likely seen you sitting under the tree.
A moment longer you hung after your thoughts.
Then you blinked and remembered that you were probably not welcome here, with the expensive piano and the private compositions, and quickly and silently left the room again, making sure to close the door behind you.
You didn’t go back again in the afternoon, but as you sat down two days later, the tinkling of the keys was drifting down to your spot once more. Smiling about their company, you focused on your work.
It seemed like good things wouldn't last.
The professors heaped enormous amounts of extra essays, excerpts and transcriptions upon each of your heads, and caught between balancing your work and study life, along with having to prep multiple presentations, you were left yearning for the calm spot beneath the tree.
Namjoon had managed to get you to admit where you'd been vanishing off to over the past weeks; after loudly proclaiming that even though the library had been squeaky clean for weeks now he had yet to see you return to your spot.
"Well maybe I found a better spot!" You defended your absence, over lunch in the cafeteria.
"Aha!" Jin yelled, making everyone in a five meter radius around him flinch. "So you have been hiding! I knew it."
"It's just a tiny spot under a tree, outside the old Uni's wall. Stumbled upon it by accident, but a total good find."
“I see.” Namjoon was too intelligent to not notice you didn’t really want to talk about this and soon after dropped the topic.
Rain ran down the windows in streams and you sighed at its presence.
Like this there was no way to get out to the table, and even if it would have cleared up instantly - the wood would need at least several hours in direct sunshine to dry.
Seemed like the last of your luck had run out.
With the lighting from inside the hallways the world outside was hardly recognizable.
You loved the library, and especially the little nook, but there was just something about that table and the tree out among the downpour that was a lot more appealing now than your old favourite spot.
Sitting down anywhere else seemed impossible. Especially, you dimly thought to yourself, especially because the music would be missing.
It was ten times better than listening to your own stuff, because you didn't have to choose what to hear and couldn't simply skip tracks. A little like radio; you could just hear what was given to you, but unlike radio there were no ads.
You found yourself on ground level of the deserted building, hand on the railing and foot on the first step of the stairs before you realized - you could just sit down somewhere close to the room, listen if someone was playing today and do your work there.
Fuelled by this revelation you took the steps two at once and arrived in the hallway a little out of breath, with your heart pounding not only from the exercise.
There it was. The music.
Inexplicably content about the recent developments you picked a clean enough looking spot on the floor, opened your bag and pulled out your notes.
It wasn't as nice as sitting outside, you came to see. Natural light was a lot better to read and work alongside texts with, and the artificial kind provided here could simply not compete.
Still, with the musical undertones, you were able to cross at least some of the workload off before you allowed yourself to sit back against the wall, ignore the stupid pages in front of you and simply listen to what was being played.
It had shifted in the last days. Had it been pieces vaguely familiar to you at the start had the melodies become more and more unrecognizable over time, and now you sat a few steps from the door, eyes closed and listening, thoughts drifting further from the sheets surrounding you by the minute.
The melody was low, subdued but still driving. It sounded like something that would play at the start of a movie, a car ride maybe, with the glowing lights of a city pouring through the windows but no sound audible but this song.
It felt like the car was on its way somewhere, somewhere important, and the people inside the car knew of the importance of this destiny but were too overwhelmed to talk about it.
Maybe the scene would end at the sea, the viewer expecting to hear the ocean's waves crash against the cliff, the gulls crying overhead, but the song would continue playing.
Softly, the tune changed, and you furrowed your brows.
The melody gradually lightened until the great weight was fully lifted from it and the scene with the car and the lights and the muted ocean seemed entirely unfitting. This was more like spring, breathing in the warming air, seeing the sun again after months, that kind of stuff.
You were still drifting, trying to think of what else it reminded you of when the silence became more pronounced. Whoever it was had stopped playing, and you opened your eyes, falling from the small clouds of dreaming back into the shabby hallway.
Steps rang out behind the door, a window closed and you stared at your bag and the spread out work in horror. There was no time to pack it all up.
The door clicked open.
A pair of dark eyes stared into yours, the look of surprise at so unexpectedly seeing the other on both your faces.
Black hair reached over eyebrows, barely visible through a split in the strands.
A hand clutched what looked like a set of keys, the sleeve of the dark hoodie almost slipping over it.
He was first to break the moment of pure surprise. Clearing his throat he stepped out of the room fully, pulled the door shut behind him.
By then you'd managed to look down on the orderly mess you'd made and back up.
"I really like your music." You attempted a smile. The guy, likely not much older than you, pressed his lips into a line.
"Thanks."
It sounded softer than his expression had led you to believe. His eyes flitted over the floor for a bit before he spoke again, not having moved much more than a step. "You really shouldn't be sitting around here, I don't know when it got cleaned last."
"Ah." You twirled your pen. "Well…"
The dark haired stranger sniffed and buried his hands in his pants’ pockets, squaring his shoulders in a way that made him look incredibly uncomfortable.
"Did I interrupt something? Do you need me to move or-" You trailed off.
"No! No, no." He was quick to interrupt, one hand stretched out to halt your beginning frenzy of packing up. "No, it's alright, you weren't- doing… anything." He coughed and rubbed his neck with the free hand. "You… You usually sit outside, under the tree, right?"
You met his gaze, saw his eyes glinting once before he looked away, scuffing a used Vans sneaker on the floor.
"-Yeah, that's true. Couldn't really, today…" Gesturing towards the rain-streaked window, the other followed your line of sight and huffed.
"Yeah, weather's been shit all day. The library's probably chock full, too." He trailed off, and you observed with interest how he seemed to build himself up to the next thing to say.
"I've been… seeing you. Not wanting to sound like… a creep or so, I just- I noticed you sat outside quite often."
You smiled, and his shoulders relaxed a bit.
"Yeah! I wandered around after the library was closed for cleaning the other day, and came across this place. It's amazing. So quiet and basically nobody around… and the background music is great, too."
He looked down on his shoes at your words but you could see how one corner of his mouth twitched upwards.
"This was by the way a major factor for coming here today. It's just- Quiet, void of any people? Very few distractions? Plus free music? There's just no other place where I can get all that."
He rolled his eyes but the smile on his lips broadened. When he moved his head you could see the tips of his ears peeking through his hair, both a healthy shade of red.
"Min Yoongi." He held out his hand after studying you for a moment. "Resident ambience dealer, apparently."
Grinning, you took his larger palm, feeling the bones in his thin fingers as you told him your own name. "-Resident study freak and avid listener to Min Yoongi's compositions."
He grumbled at that. "You listen to piano a lot?"
"Not really. Only when I come here."
This time his eyes stayed on you for longer, and he leaned his back against the opposite wall while slowly easing closer to the ground.
"Then how did you know it was my own stuff I was playing?"
You tugged some papers closer by their corners, beginning to shepherd them together.
"I was in there some time ago, when you weren't there. Wanted to know where the music was coming from, took me ages to even find a way into this place. Your room is really messy, you know that?"
His face was halfway turned away again but at the humour in your voice he looked back, pout on his features.
"I never meant for anyone else to see in the first place! You don't get to complain!" He huffed, glancing at where you were chuckling across from him at his indignant outcry.
"Okay okay, I promise I won't go back inside. But that what you played last today, that was really good. Is that one of yours, too?"
He bit on his bottom lip and nodded, fingers rubbing over the fabric of his pants stretching over his knees.
“What’s your major? Music?”
“Something in that direction, yeah.” Then, after a pause in which he seemed to realize it would be the polite thing to do, he asked: “You?”
The rain continued to run down the glass as you spoke, telling the other about your plans with studying, and the hopes you had. He listened intently and only rose his voice after it was obvious you had ended, and it created a nice back and forth. Thunder clapped outside, growling and forcing him to speak up a little more.
You sighed.
"Guess I better head back if I still wanna make it home today." You swept the last of the sheets together and put them into their binder, shoving the concoction unceremoniously back into your bag.
You brushed a bit of dust off your pants and quietly pulled a face as you peeled a long hair with cobwebs off your pants.
When you met Yoongi's eyes he looked off to the side, softly shrugging. "Told you…"
"Are you heading back, too?" Now it was him looking up at you, hands linked over his knees.
"Yeah?"
You held out your hand, and after mustering it for a moment, he took it.
Either he had a lot of self-control over his body or he wasn't weighting much; either way you pulled him up and then he was towering over you once more.
"You have a car?" You asked him on the way down, looking up from the keys in his hand.
"Hm? Oh. Oh yeah. Just- It’s a hand me-down from my brother."
He cleared his throat.
"Aren't you afraid someone's gonna steal your stuff?"
He turned his head towards you, his eyebrows creasing the skin between them.
"Because you don't lock the room?" You elaborated. Yoongi ran a hand through his hair, focusing on the steps down.
"Not really. As far as I know it's only us knowing of these rooms even being here, and most of them are locked, so…"
"But you keep copies of your songs, right? Photos or some app to write it down with?" He looked at you like you had just proposed to assassinate the Dean.
"No?" He held the door open for you and then you were out in the main part of campus again.
Part of you had wondered if Yoongi would just straight up disappear as soon as you crossed the threshold, but it appeared he was very much real as he fell into step alongside you.
"Then what if someone does get in? And steals them? Or you forget to close the window and rain gets in and ruins the sheets?"
He shrugged, and the way he seemed to care so little frustrated you.
"But it's such great music!"
He shrugged again but looked on his shoes while doing so.
For a moment you were quiet, staring straight ahead while the thoughts were racing behind your forehead.
"-"
"No."
"I haven't said anything!"
He glared at you from the corner of his eyes. "But you were going to. Whatever it is, no. If anything happens to my music, that's my business, okay? Don't worry about it."
His resolute tone halted every attempt at clapping back in its core, and the few minutes it took until you were out in the entrance hall that was swimming with how many students came in and went you spent in silence.
Yoongi half turned towards you when you were already beaming up at him. "I'll hear you around?"
"-Fuck me." He covered his face with a hand and you laughed at his exasperated groan at your joke.
"Bye Yoongi!"
"Honestly, get lost..."
You were on your way to the table again, binder under your arm. Rounding the corner and you would have almost slipped on the moss growing over the path; you stared back and silently cursed while being glad you didn't actually fall.
The surface of the desk was wet when you reached it.
"It's been like, an entire day, why are you not dry." You said lowly, feeling the top down. Definitely too wet for anything paper related.
"You're late."
You looked up at the drawl, only needing a moment until your eyes fixed on the mop of hair peeking out of the window.
"Oh, yeah?" You looked down on the table, not really knowing what else to say. "Well... your ass is late, too."
"The fuck."
The confusion on Yoongi's face was a delight to see. A moment longer you stayed rooted to the spot next to the table, then his voice came again.
"You wanna come up here now or what. That desk won't dry up until tomorrow. If you're lucky."
Squinting up you shielded your eyes against the glare of the bright clouds overhead.
"You won't mind?"
Yoongi seemed to momentarily contemplate it, looking straight ahead. Then he pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Look, you can either get your ass wet sitting outside, or get it dirty sitting in the hallway, but if you enjoy my music really that much it'll be a total experience sitting in the same room while i play. Your choice."
He vanished from the open window and closed it, only leaving a crack open.
Your fingers tapped on the binder.
Five minutes later you knocked on the blank door, waiting patiently in your spot until steps sounded out and Yoongi opened.
He was sporting the same dark hoodie today, fidgeting with the sleeves of it.
"May I come in?" You inquired, and he wordlessly stepped aside.
Together with Yoongi's help you pulled one of the overturned tables right way up, found a suitable chair and then wiped the surfaces off. There was a small sink in the adjacent storage room, with running water and all, and eventually your new desk was in a condition you deemed okay.
You sat down on your chair and Yoongi, who'd been brooding over his sheet music since you'd shooed him off to clean everything by your standards, looked back down on the floor. He perched on the run down piano stool, elbows on his knees, and peered on the papers strewn across the ground.
Occasionally he'd bend down to pick one up but you had too much to do to really watch him for longer.
At one point he turned and you allowed yourself a moment of rest. He pushed the hoodie up his arms, almost to his elbows, before his fingers placed themselves on the keys and he started to play.
He had been right. It was something entirely else to sit in the same room with him while he played.
Like this the music drowned out any other sound that may have sailed in from outside; whether it be the call of bird or bell.
It was nice.
Your thoughts calmed down until they ran smooth, circling around topics once or twice before moving on.
The world existed only in this room, the music filled your ears and the shabby lighting overhead concealed the darkening sky outside.
At one point Yoongi stood in front of your table, fingers curled around the hem of his hoodie once more. His knuckles pushed at his skin. The edge of one sleeve was beginning to fray.
Mildly irritated, you looked up and met his eyes.
"What?"
"Uh isn't this the time you usually leave?"
You held contact a moment longer before looking down on your watch and tsking disapprovingly. Yoongi's shoulders twitched up.
"Shit, it is."
Ripped out of the peaceful mood you began to collect pages and close books, mentally going through the timetable and if you’d still make the train. "Are you heading out, too?"
He nodded and, growing braver again, stacked a few materials while you shoved everything in your bag. "Thanks." You hurried.
It'd be a bit tight, time-wise, but Yoongi's long legs effortlessly kept pace with your quick steps.
"How'd you know this was my time to leave, anyways?" You narrowed your eyes at him, not hiding the smile on your lips. "Have you been stalking me?"
Yoongi opened and closed his mouth without saying anything once or twice before he looked ahead and said "It was the time you left, last time." His shoulders were still drawn up as he peeked at you from the side. "I'd never-"
"I was kidding." You took half a step to the side and bumped your elbow into the general area of his arm. His hand reflexively came up and clutched the spot.
“I'm a creature of habit. If I miss this train I'll have to wait forever until the next one comes and that's always a huge pain."
He nodded, and shortly after, bid you farewell before you parted behind the front doors.
It had rained the entire weekend long and you didn't bother to go outside to the table, instead turning left before the library even came into view and headed straight for Yoongi's hideaway.
He didn't open when you knocked and you found the room empty after peeking inside.
He came in half an hour after you, in a dark blue hoodie this time, and looked a bit startled at seeing you there.
"Hi!" You smiled at him, over the backrest of the chair. "I hope you don't mind, it rained again and I-"
He shrugged and shuffled past you, heavily slumping down in front of the piano.
He didn't say anything and his melodies today were slow and deep.
Before you could turn to leave after the clock had well advanced, his back straightened and, anticipating him speaking up, you paused; jacket already on and bag in hand.
"Thanks for not asking me what's wrong."
He was talking to the piano, but you still smiled a bit.
"Of course."
"I don't know, if, I said it already but, you're very- welcome to come here if, you know, the weather…"
You looked down on your shoes. Only after it didn't seem like he was going to finish his sentence did you raise your voice.
"I don't think you did, but I really appreciate it. Thank you. Will you stay a little longer today?"
His gaze fled your face for his piano again after you raised your head.
"Yeah."
"Take it easy, Yoongi."
"Whatever."
You smiled at him even though you didn't know if he'd see, and then headed out.
You'd gotten ahead of homework and so could ease a little during your work sessions in Yoongi's piano room now, and during one of those easier days decided to finally ask the question that had been bouncing around your head for a while now.
"How'd you get the piano tuned? And isn't it really old?"
He didn't look up from his sheet, brows still furrowed at something he'd probably written down a few days ago and now wasn't satisfied with anymore.
"I watched a few Youtube tutorials."
You put your chin in one of your hands and grinned, but Yoongi broke eye-contact quickly after glancing your way.
"You did it yourself?"
"Yeah? Wasn't. Wasn't that hard."
Your grin widened and his glare intensified at its presence. "Min Yoongi. Musical Genius."
"Shut up."
His ears coloured red and gave him away, and you'd have loved to go over and give him a quick hug.
You didn't know how many other people got to appreciate him, but if his hideout here was anything to go by it weren't many. Probably.
He was adorable.
Even when the sun was shining outside and it had been dry for several days you wouldn't go to the little desk, favouring the clear sound of Yoongi playing and his occasional comment, mumbled to himself. It was far too cold now, anyways. Winter was fast advancing as November went on.
He had a way to be in the same space with you while not demanding any of your attention - which made it incredibly pleasant to have him around.
If you weren’t spending time together in amicable silence he was surprisingly easy to talk to. Most of his answers were short, or mumbled sounds, and yet you never got the impression he was fed-up or annoyed. He asked things too, occasionally; and though objectively you hadn’t known him that long, it still felt weird to remember there had been a time without him in your life.
Once, after you'd struggled with a particularly boring part of a required text that your brain just wouldn't process at all, he'd quietly asked if you could come over and take a look at something he'd been working on.
You stared at him, the skin between your eyebrows creased.
"Yoongi I don't know anything about music. Do you really-"
"Please?"
"...Fine."
You were standing next to him already, preparing to sit, when he parted his lips and looked up at you.
"Could you… sit with your back to the keys? It's just, I…"
It wasn't his fault, you were frustrated by the text; but you couldn't help the forced exhale of air that left your nose.
Yoongi's shoulders twitched. You hesitated, wanted to say something, didn’t find the words and then made an effort to move as calmly and quietly as possible to not upset him further.
"Sorry. Long day.” You said in a low voice, feeling strangely raw. “Play, if you… if you want?"
You could see him looking at you, through the corners of your eyes, and part of the tension left his form again at your words, underlying tone asking for forgiveness.
"S'alright." He breathed, just before clearing his throat and placing his hands on the keys.
As he played, the tight knit ball of jumbled thoughts behind your forehead stopped growing.
The longer you listened, the more tension left your brain; the cramped thoughts and need-to-do’s losing their alarming vibrant colours.
You felt yourself calm down.
He broke off playing and coughed nervously.
"So that- was version one. This is version two."
And he began to play again, the same piece, though slightly different, and this time you reminded yourself to pay more attention and really listen.
After he'd finished, the frustration over your text had thinned out and you were fully focused on the task at hand.
"So?" He asked, nervously rubbing his hands together.
"Can you play the first one again? Just for comparison?"
He nodded and went back to it.
"I think I like the first one better.” You decided. “The second one… implies something darker lurking beneath, and, I guess if that's what you intended it's executed well but the rest sounds lighter and so-"
He huffed out a laugh and dropped his head, hands sandwiched between his thighs.
"Hm? Not good? What I said?"
"No, no," He hurried to reassure, eyes gleaming under his fringe. "No, it's… I was hoping you'd say that, I guess. Gives me a reason to scratch this part. Didn't even like it much, I just felt- Yeah. Thanks."
At the almost-grin spreading on his lips you had to smile as well.
Had your shoulders touched during the entire time you'd sat here?
He broke the eye-contact first, looking back towards the keys once before meeting your gaze again.
"Rough day hm?"
"Yeah." You looked ahead, not really seeing the wall there. "Yeah, you could say that…"
Another sigh and then you were feeling the exhaustion more and more.
It was a spur of the moment thing, really, and you asked before you could hold yourself back.
"Are you okay with touches?"
"Ha? What do you-"
"Can I put my head on your shoulder?"
"Oh. Uh-"
"It's- It's fine if you don't want that," You hurried to backpedal, already mentally chiding yourself. "I'll be o-"
"No, it's, uh, you, ah, you can! Put your head on… yeah. I don't mind."
His voice got quieter and quieter until he was mumbling the last sentence.
His shoulder, although cushioned by his hoodie, was bonier than you'd thought. But it was nice, to rest for a moment, and you closed your eyes, exhaling slowly.
Yoongi's breathing had his shoulders rising and falling, and unconsciously, you adapted your rhythm to his, until you were breathing in synch.
"Thank you." You mumbled, adjusting your head and feeling your forehead brush his hood.
"Don't worry about it." This up close his voice was even deeper, and the low tone soothed the rawness your ears had suffered under for the past days in crowded lecture halls and hallways.
Ever so softly his cheek came to rest against the top of your head as he gave into the shy touch.
"Do you sing, Yoongi?"
You still had your eyes closed, listening to Yoongi's breathing and the sound his clothes made when they rubbed against themselves, against his skin.
"Sometimes." He answered after a pause. "More rap than… singing lullabies."
"I bet you sound good doing either."
He snorted, which pretty clearly gave away how little he thought of your compliment.
A moment long neither of you spoke.
Then he let out a heavy sigh.
"Why exactly do you think that?"
Your left arm was slightly pushed forward as he moved his left arm, from where the backs of your forearms were pressed against each other.
"You have a very nice voice, deep, and steady, and- It has that ring to it, you know, the same undertone. Some people speak and you can't really make out the tone or… colour… of their speech, but your voice doesn't jump around. You could probably read a phone book and make it sound nice."
"Okay that just ruined everything you said before."
"Oh fuck off! You asked!" There was a laugh in your voice as you lifted your head to look at him exasperatedly. He blinked, looking a bit sleepy, as if he had rested his eyes a little, too.
At your expression he hollowed out his cheeks.
"Jeez, don't behead me. I'll take it, okay? Happy now?"
"Yes. Thank you."
You pursed your lips and waited, until Yoongi would break eye-contact, but he didn’t surrender as quickly. He blinked and kept looking, and everything in you wanted to put your head back down, back on his shoulder, and stay like that a little longer, talk a bit more.
But this small break had gone for a bit too long already and you knew you should get back to work. That text sadly wouldn't read itself.
An unfamiliar touch on your arm held you back.
"Can you stay a bit longer?"
Half standing above him already he had to tilt his head so he could look at you.
"I really should-" You began, and then sighed, admitting that you really didn't want to move to yourself, and sat back down. "...Screw that text."
Yoongi's shoulder bumped yours, almost like an invitation, and you gave in without much thought.
You felt the bones shift as Yoongi lifted his hands and began to press single keys, filling the silence of the room with tunes.
"That text got you all worked up, hm." He spoke again after a while.
You frowned at nothing.
"It's just so dull. The professor said it serves as an example of what not to write, so it's basically just- we're just supposed to read it and mark all the mistakes, to avoid doing the same mistakes, but honestly… I know how and what I have to write, I shouldn't- Ugh. See? It's annoying me again already."
You huffed, leaning a bit more on Yoongi.
His cheek found your hair again and he chuckled.
"What's that idiot done wrong in his writing then?"
You weren't so sure afterwards, if he really had wanted to know or if this was just Yoongi's way of getting you to review the material differently, but you supposed it had worked out.
It was a lot easier to read and complain aloud while he sat next to you and listened to you rant, even though the finer nuances were surely lost on him since he wasn't studying the same thing.
On your way back to your flat you held your left arm with your right until you saw yourself in a reflection and noticed it.
Sitting next to Yoongi like that had only further proved how comforting his presence was, and now, without anything like that to be repeated in the foreseeable future, the missing touch felt a lot worse than where you had been before.
Technically you'd see him again tomorrow, or the very least Thursday.
But who was to say he'd ask you to sit with him again?
You ran into him during lunch the next week after not making it back to his room before that.
He was looking off to the side, in the direction of the lousy holiday decorations that had popped up in the major community spaces - You needed a moment to recognize him as the same guy who was playing piano while you studied. His bare arms, sticking out of a black shirt that hung from his shoulders, were almost shocking. That, and the surroundings clashing so harshly with what you were used to see him surrounded by.
“Hey, Yoongi!” You called out after the realization had sunk in, and turned with the tray in your hand.
His shoulders jerked up, but as his searching gaze connected with yours he relaxed.
“Hi.” He rubbed over his neck. “What are you…” His eyes fell on the food you were balancing in your hands. “Right. Lunch.”
“Are you headed somewhere?” You shifted your weight from one leg to the other. Yoongi shook his head slowly, hands clenching around his hoodie he carried in them.
“Wanna sit with my friends and me? They’re just over there, next to the pillar.”
“Uh-”
“They’re all really friendly and don’t bite, I promise.”
“...Fine.” He sighed and trudged after you as you turned.
Whenever he agreed to do something you had proposed to him he made it out to seem like it was a decision that had taken him weeks to arrive to, or if it was something incredibly heavyweight he couldn’t just agree to, but whenever you offered him to go back on saying yes, or reminding him he could opt out any moment, he was always vehement to defend his point. It almost looked like he did things purely out of spite even when you’d meant well to second-guess his willingness to cooperate.
It was the same today, as he followed you through the rows, and then pulled out a chair next to yours as you put the tray down.
“Friends, this is Yoongi. He plays piano.”
“My most defining feature, apparently.” He grumbled in response and sat down, not after shimmying into his hoodie.
“Oh hey Yoongles!” Jin perked up, the burrito in his hands falling apart. “You two know each other?!”
“That does surprise me, I agree.” Hoseok added, stealing bits of the filling of Jin’s food that fell to the plate below. The quirky guy had one day invited himself into your circle of friends and nobody had had a heart to kick him out, but apparently he did know other people on campus save your group.
“You know him?” You retorted, pulling out your water bottle before starting on the food.
“Some people socialize, my dear friend.” Jin said, swatting at Hoseok’s hand.
“Yeah I know, I wasn’t aware Yoongi did that.”
“Ouch?” The black haired guy next to you said and got a round of laughs back.
“Sorry.” You apologized. He stole the small package of chips from your tray and opened it.
“I mean, it’s kind of true, I suppose.” He relented.
“Did you write down what the Prof wrote on the blackboard last Monday?” Jin had given up on his burrito and was furiously wiping at his hands while a happy Hoseok gleefully dug into the scattered remains. Jimin next to him made grabby hands and the plate got pushed over so he’d reach it too. Jin pursed his lips.
“Yeah. You need them or what?” Yoongi dropped a chip in his mouth and chewed slowly.
Jin turned his head and a more up-beat expression settled on his features. “Pretty please!”
Yoongi groaned.
Around half an hour later the cafeteria filled up as more and more students took their break, and soon enough your group rose to make room for the people who actually needed the space to sit down.
“You going to practice today?” You asked Yoongi as your group made its way towards the exit. He nodded absentmindedly.
“Oh, can I come?” Hobi suddenly appeared by Yoongi’s other side, apparently having overheard the conversation.
Yoongi glared.
“And have you leave prints on all my shit? No thank you.”
“Excuse you these sneakers are brand new! Not a single speck of du- Hey!”
To your utter delight Yoongi had stepped on the brilliant white of Hobi’s new shoe and left a dusty brown mark.
The sputtering outcry got the attention of Namjoon and Jin who’d been walking ahead, and after placating words and a glare from Yoongi you all parted ways, Hobi notably not tagging along with you.
“That was mean.” You told him, still laughing over Hoseok’s exasperation.
Yoongi shrugged, hands in his pockets, but you saw the smile on his lips just before he angled his face in a way that didn’t allow you to observe his features any longer.
The days until the short christmas break were counting down.
One weekend you spent baking with Jimin and Rose, and were left with so many cookies you put a good amount in a box, wrapped it in newspaper and brought it with you to give to Yoongi as an early present.
You could pinpoint the exact moment he saw the gift sitting on his chair after he had come in, because he stopped dead in his tracks.
“What?” He asked, and you looked up from the transcribing exercise.
“What what?”
“That.” He pointed, as if a motion detection sensor would go off if he took only a step closer.
You clasped your hands under your chin and looked from the chair to Yoongi.
“Didn’t you see the elf that came in and dropped this off?”
His eyebrows drew together and he glared at you.
“I have a feeling I’m looking at this ‘elf’ right now.” He crossed his arms. You shrugged.
“If you don’t want it, I’ll find someone else to give it to.” That cute first-semester from Jimin’s Survey of Linguistics and Languages class maybe, Jungkook.
“No.” Yoongi grumbled, and you mentally scratched having to rehome the box of cookies. Although, come to think of it, there were probably enough cookies left at home to pack another box. Maybe you’d ask Jimin if he could ask Jungkook if he’d like some.
He sat after picking the present up, hesitantly, and weighted it in his hands.
“What’s in it?” He turned to you.
You lifted an eyebrow. “Wait until the evening of the 24th and find out. Or abandon all social norms and just tear into it now, I wouldn’t judge.”
“Like fuck you would.” He huffed and then looked from the patched up paper to you. It seemed like he wanted to say something, and then decided against it, only placing the gift on top of the piano, in a spot where it wouldn’t be in the way.
You got up earlier than usual, wanting to get a bit of shopping done before leaving for your parent’s home for the holidays.
Yoongi’s head jerked up, and the pencil he’d twirled in his fingers clattered to the ground.
“Is it five already?” He asked, hands reaching for his phone.
“Nah,” You slung your scarf around your neck. “I’ll run some errands.”
“Oh okay.”
To your surprise, Yoongi started grabbing his things as well.
You paused.
“Yoongi, what…?”
His gift under his arm, the other froze.
“Huh? Didn’t you ask if I could drive you today?”
You blinked.
Dim, very dim was the memory, of having asked him, a week ago. You hadn’t decided to do the shopping today, back then.
“You- You don’t have to. Sorry, I forgot, my bad-” You bit in your lip. “You, uh, you stay, and… Compose a while longer. I’ll be fine.”
In the silence between you, you could hear the wind whistling around the corners of the building.
It was dark outside already.
Yoongi was still looking at you, and though you’d come to understand his expressions a bit, this one was undecipherable.
“So you… Don’t want me to drive you?”
He looked weird, the newspaper wrapped box under his arm, his jacket slung over the other. Ready to go, at your convenience.
It twisted your heart a little.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t remember you saying yes, and my shopping-”
“I could still drive you. It’s faster than the train?” His eyebrows twitched upwards in the middle, just a tiny bit.
“-Okay.” You agreed, and his posture relaxed at last.
His car smelled new, even though everything in it was carrying marks of the years it had been used.
You stayed silent, unsure how to proceed, and as the lights of downtown illuminated the inside of his car, you turned your head to look at him.
“Would you like to come do the shopping with me?”
The car rolled to a stop at the next red light, and in the low light, Yoongi’s eyes glinted as he looked over.
“If you want me to?”
“Yes please.”
“Okay.”
"I bought an iPad."
"You what?" You looked up from your work, across the room and met his eyes over the piano. He was glaring.
"You heard me."
"I did. Why though?"
January was almost over by now, but it would take a while longer until the sun would win back her intensity, and not let the daylight fade this early in the afternoon. Though, clouds littered the sky today, which was probably the main cause why the lights overhead reflected in the glass already at this hour.
Yoongi looked down on the keys, his hands rubbing over his thighs.
"You won't stop nagging me about losing the sheets or forgetting the tunes, so I thought… I could record some of the songs. Scan the sheets. That kinda stuff."
You smiled, unashamed and wide, and Yoongi's glare intensified.
"You're gonna come have a look or what."
He sounded a little pressed and without any more words you left your desk and crossed the room.
He shuffled aside so you could fit yourself next to him.
The tablet wasn't the latest model - which would have really surprised you, otherwise - but there was something like a microphone plugged into the lightning port and clipped to the edge.
"Is that a mic?" You leaned forward, having had half the mind to sit on your hands to not accidentally touch anything and ignite Yoongi's wrath.
"Yes." He grumbled, still a bit more fidgety than usual. "Cost almost as much as the damn thing so I hope you're happy."
The grin stole into the wonder and awe that had captured your expression before.
"I am. Very. Recorded anything yet?"
You'd arrived a bit later today, courtesy to an extended lunch with Namjoon and Jin.
Yoongi's eyes glinted when he looked from the keys to you.
"And have you chewing my ear off for not letting you be there? Fuck no. Was gonna wait until you got here. -Shut! It."
You bit your lip to keep the cooing at bay, opting to gently nudge his shoulder with yours instead.
"I appreciate it. Wanna play now?"
The nervosity was back, the way he bounced his leg so uncharacteristically agitated for him. He was more like a pond usually, calm and undisturbed.
"Keep quiet alright?"
You nodded.
He sighed and rubbed his hands one last time. Then he extended one, woke the screen and unlocked the tablet. The recording program was already open.
He clicked the red button and instantly a flat line appeared, only beginning to curve up and down as he shifted and began to play.
Keeping your breathing flat was probably unnecessary and yet you couldn't help it.
Yoongi's hands danced over the keys, pushing down and lifting in such rapid succession you could hardly keep up with. It was mesmerizing to observe, but not only that.
With his eyes closed and his head angled he gave himself to the music completely, feeling every note.
There was a small pulling in your chest, from the area around your heart, at his sight.
It must feel good to be able to zone out this much doing something you loved and were good at.
Only after he'd repeated the chorus did you notice what he was playing - the melody that had initially drawn you in and led you to the table outside.
Your heart in your chest grew with every beat, until it felt like it pressed against your ribcage from the inside.
Yoongi slowed down, the notes came a little wider apart, and then he let the last chord ring out. Fingertips still resting on the keys, you looked between them, waiting if he'd play another song.
When he slid them down on his pants it became clear he didn't intend to.
Silence enveloped you.
"That's my favourite song. That one. I only found you because of it."
Your eyes went back to his face and caught him already looking. His eyebrows drew together.
He tapped the little square and the program stopped recording.
"Now you ruined the first ever song I played for the record, idiot."
You scoffed.
"I only spoke up after it was all done, you can easily cut that out, genius."
He huffed and you rolled your eyes.
"Not everything has to be perfect first try. Thought someone like you would know that."
He just shook his head, still frowning.
"Hey, I'm sorry. I'll keep quiet now." Thinking he was honestly upset, you apologized, hoping it'd sooth his temper.
But it didn't seem to be the right call as he buried his face in his hands, shoulders rolling forward.
"Just… Nevermind."
"Do you want me to get out of your hair?"
Your butt had already lifted from the chair when his reply came, mumbled through his hands.
"No."
You sat back down.
Dark eyes glinted at you through his fingers, then he combed through his hair and pushed it back from his face.
It was the first time you could really see his eyebrows well, and the expanse of his forehead.
You'd known he had one, of course, but seeing it was something else.
He woke the tablet again and started a new recording.
You smiled.
You didn’t get any work done that afternoon, but then again listening to a fraction of the repertoire that Yoongi had to offer was phenomenal compensation.
Still he looked a bit rueful, standing next to your desk while you packed your stuff, the iPad with its closed cover and Mic securely stored in the small bag over his shoulder.
“Sorry I… Kept you from your studying.”
You looked up while zipping your pencil case shut.
“It’s okay. Think I needed that, anyways. A break from all those words. It’s me who should thank you, really.”
He wrinkled his nose and kicked at a speck of dust, following you out the room once you were done.
“Still. Can I… Do you want a ride home? I know you missed the bus you usually take.”
“You’d do that?”
“It’s the least, really…”
A smile spread on your face. “Who am I to say no to such a gracious offer, why yes, thank you Yoongi.”
“Don’t make me regret it.” He grumbled, pushing ahead with a frown on his features.
"Play for me, Min, please." You sat next to him on the stool, hands underneath your thighs and gaze swimming from exhaustion.
Yoongi's shoulder softly bumped into yours as he repositioned himself.
"You okay."
"Yeah. Just. Please play."
"Alright." He looked at the keys, fingers caressing them but not pressing down hard enough to evoke the notes. "Anything in particular?"
"Can you play my favourite piece?"
His eyes stayed on yours and you grew almost uncomfortable by their scrutiny.
And then he blinked and turned back towards the keys, rolling his wrists once and setting his fingers down.
"As you wish."
As he played you watched his fingers move, trying to lean away whenever he came near you to avoid bumping into his arm. His skin looked healthier now, now that the temperatures were rising again and there were no angry, painful red cracks lining the back of his hands anymore.
It was like his body had its own gravitational field, drawing you in.
When he ended, your side was leaned against his, your heavy head teetering on the edge just before dropping to his shoulder.
The arm he wrapped around you would have come as a surprise, eliciting at least a twitch out of you, had you been a little more coherent.
As it was, your body sighed and curled into his, head tucked into his shoulder, while his hand pulled you closer by your side.
"Long day."
It wasn't a question, but you understood the offer he was making.
"Yeah." You sighed, the hoodie-clad shoulder pleasantly soft under your cheek. "Finals will kick my ass. Didn't want to do an all-nighter ever again but got peer-pressured into it anyways… Sucks."
Yoongi hummed, playing this and that note with the free hand.
"Didn't peg you for someone giving into that kind of thing."
You grumbled.
The impending doom of the next test hung low over your head, and still you couldn’t peel away from your spot next to Yoongi, wedged on the chair, with his arm around you. Didn’t want to. Felt like maybe if you’d made an attempt to get up, he might even have pulled you down again.
"Want me to drive you home?" He mumbled, an indefinite amount of time later.
"You're really nice today. Or is that just me being tired."
He chuckled, and you felt his cheek come to rest against your head.
"Don't tell anyone, okay."
"Okay."
You adjusted in your spot and snaked both of your arms around his torso.
He didn't flinch.
It was quiet for a moment.
"Hm?"
He hummed.
"What?" You lifted your head. He glanced at you from the corners of his eyes.
"Didn't answer my question."
"Which one?"
"If you want me to drive you home."
He jostled your shoulder.
You debated it for a moment.
"Alright. Yeah, okay.”
You put a hand to his shoulder that quickly morphed from a gentle pat into holding on for support as your quick standing up led to some instability in your legs.
He looked up at you.
"Okay then. Let's go." You repeated.
It was like the world was wrapped in cotton.
It was silent in the car. The radio didn't look broken, but Yoongi slapped your hand away as you wanted to poke it and see if you could turn it on.
"Nu-uh. No touchy." His eyes never strayed from the street.
"Next one left." You informed him, pouting.
"I know." He said.
Your hand was on the handle even before his shabby car rolled to a stop in front of your place.
It was unusually warm for the month, and you’d rolled the window on the passenger side down to breathe in the mellow spring breeze.
Now outside, you leaned your arms through it.
A grin spread on your face.
"Say, isn't it weird that you know where I live and I still haven't gotten your number?"
A rare, gummy smile appeared on his face, slowly.
"Please?" You jutted out your bottom lip.
"...Fine." He reached into the back, patting his jacket down.
He pulled his phone out of one of the pockets, handing it to you after unlocking it.
"'Musical Genius #1 Fan’?" He read out the contact name you’d given yourself. He glared at you.
You shrugged.
"If you don't like it, change it, genius."
He snorted and gripped the steering wheel tighter with his left hand.
The world was beginning to get very fuzzy beyond a two step radius around you, and you took that as a sign you should definitely head into your room now.
“Thank you for the ride.”
“Always.” He smiled again, his usual, small one.
You patted the hood of his car twice after leaning back.
Texting Yoongi was almost alarmingly normal.
Despite the fantastical circumstances of meeting him, you found he was very much engaged in normal life on campus, too. Occasionally.
He wasn’t much for the polite small talk to start a day, rather than just sending a text saying ‘There’s a lizard by the parking lot and ppl r clogging the way, will be late’ first thing.
You hadn’t believed him when he’d said he wasn’t much into memes, but send him a couple vine compilations anyways.
By now he was fully fluent in both them and most current memes floating around, further adding to you not really believing he hadn’t had a speck of an idea before.
The definite end of the semester came into view, but it meant every final was crammed into the space between then and now, which resulted in more studying and less listening to Yoongi playing.
You were brushing teeth one evening when your phone’s screen lit up with an incoming video call from him.
Placing it on a slightly elevated spot inside the small cabinet above the sink, you accepted it.
“...Oh wow look at that, who is that raccoon?”
Your reply telling him to fuck off came warbled by the white foam spilling over your chin. He smiled, wide and easy.
“Wanted to ask what you were up to this evening but I guess I don’t have to anymore, huh.”
You cleared your mouth and dabbed a towel around it afterwards.
“Not really. I’m super tired, so I think I’ll just go to bed, honestly. Did you want to do something? In that case I’m sorry, but no.”
He rolled around, and only then did you see he was in bed, with the covers drawn up already and all.
“Uhh, no… Just wanted to check in. But now that you mention it… How about some music to help you relax?”
You took him from his spot on the shelf and flicked the light off before moving into your bedroom.
“I think I have enough music here, thanks…” Distracted by the device, you almost forgot to take your refilled water bottle. When you looked at the screen next, you could see Yoongi with his arms on his keyboard, phone propped up in a way that allowed you to look down the length of the keys. He was pouting.
“Not even a personalized little concert?”
You sat back on your bed and smiled at the screen.
“Okay. Just this once. And only because it’s you.”
“Yes!” He punched the air and grinned down at the camera. Lying on your side with the screen being the only thing illuminating the room, you watched and listened to him play, allowing yourself to breathe slowly and let go of the troubles that were plaguing you during the day.
You were almost gone, eyelids heavy and grasp on your phone slipping, when Yoongi picked his own device up.
“Sleep well.” He mumbled.
You hummed in response, eyes shut.
It was the last day of school before the semester ended. Technically it had ended already; The clock on the wall read something around two in the evening, and in any other case you’d be furious as to why you were still stuck here. As it was, you were sat next to Yoongi once more, in front of the piano, one last time before the break.
The window was wide open, letting in the chirps of birds and rustling of leaves.
"I'm not so good. With words." He looked up after a moment, the tips of this pointer and middle finger gently running up and down a crack between the keys.
The world outside was sunny and looked much warmer than it was, but in here, out of direct sunshine, it was still cool. Yoongi’s body next to yours was the only source of immediate warmth in the almost clammy air.
"I can speak better through the music. I think that's why… I think that's why you say my songs are expressive." His voice died down, but his eyes, glued to yours, won in intensity.
Even this close up you couldn’t tell where his iris ended and his pupil began. "Sometimes I wish I could be better with words. At least a little bit."
He looked down, where your hand lay on your thigh, with the fingers curled in and under the palm, to prevent from reaching out and touching the piano while he was playing it. Touching the piano or him.
With bated breath you watched him move, slip his hand from the keys, to then, lightly, as if you'd break at the slightest of pressure, cover yours.
Not taking your eyes off the palms, you turned your own around until you could slip your fingers between his.
You heard him swallow thickly when you squeezed your conjoined hands. Were acutely aware of how his thigh felt pressed against yours, him next to you.
Your eyes met again, but not for long. He looked away again, oddly reminding you of the first times you’d seen each other; him unable to look at your for longer than a second.
His tongue swept over his bottom lip before his teeth got a hold of it and he stared down on the piano. When you readjusted in your spot his fingers flexed and squeezed your palm, as if to prevent you from letting go. You saw his jaw ticking as he continued to avoid your eyes, the way his eyebrows furrowed, a tell-tale sign for the inner turmoil.
“Sometimes you don’t have to say much, you know. Sometimes… Sometimes I think I understand you just like that.”
“Oh yeah?” It would’ve sounded condescending if you hadn’t been able to filter out the self-deprecating downtilt of his words by now.
He glanced up at you before shuffling in his spot, twisting as best as he managed to be able to look at you without getting up. His knee dug into the dent in your leg just above your own, but you ignored the slight discomfort.
He lifted your joined hands briefly, letting them fall on his own thigh before his whole body calmed down and his eyes finally steadied on yours.
“Tell me, then. What am I trying to say?”
You let your eyes rise from his, into the mussed hair, to the one strand that was still sticking up from where he’d exasperated ran his hand against the growth earlier.
His eyebrows were still furrowed minimally, and only under your watchful gaze did he stop chewing on the inside of his cheek.
For several minutes you looked him over, observed the uneven rise and fall of his chest, in that old black shirt - it span over his chest now, its fit almost snug when it had been loose before. He’d really filled it out.
Eventually you sandwiched his hand between the both of yours, looking down on his fingers between yours.
“I have no idea.”
It was the truth. No matter how hard you looked, no matter how many clues you believed to see, it was impossible to tell just where his mind had taken him this time.
He swallowed and looked down, nodding once.
“Right. A-”
“If-” You interrupted him, looking up through your lashes. His shoulders were still rising along with his breathing, but now you had his undivided attention. “-you’re going to say something mean now, against you or me, don’t. Please.”
He bit on his lip and ducked his head to the side, obviously displeased.
“See?” He leaned back, balling his free hand into a fist. “You can do it after all! Somehow you got into my head. Don’t do that.”
“So?” You ignored the interruption, tone having shifted in the slightest. “Tell me. What...?
Two heavy breaths in which he kept squinting at you, attempted to speak up and then averted his gaze again.
When his eyes came back down from the ceiling his hold on your hand tightened.
“A hug.”
You were sure, if you hadn’t been holding his hand, he would’ve backed off as soon as the words had left his lips. But he couldn’t and so he stayed in the same spot, leaned back as far as he could, blinking and looking at you like you would start smacking him any moment.
“Please.” He added, and it had been almost too quiet to hear.
With only a nod as an answer, he relaxed a little, but the tension wouldn’t leave his shoulders.
“Here?” You asked, and he nodded, eyes flitting around. His left leg started jiggling, but before the nervosity could take more hold on him you disentangled your hands and opened your arms. He hesitated a moment longer but you didn’t rush him, waited, let him take his time. Let him come to you.
And he did.
With slow, careful hands that touched the lower part of your ribs cautiously before they slid around to your back, one upwards between your shoulder blades, the other down to the small of your back.
It was like someone that had been starved of water being allowed near a clean river - someone that had been deprived for so long that the madness of thirst had subsided into tired resignation already. When faced with the thing he’d been hungering for most, he didn’t run in blindly and submerged himself at once.
It was more like he couldn’t believe he was allowed to, was able to touch you sat next to him, that you let him close his arms around you.
His chin bumped into your collarbone as you lifted your own arms a little to lay them over his shoulders and hug him back, and he whispered a small “Sorry” before his head nestled into place next to yours.
He had to bend down and you stretched up a bit, and for the first moment you felt how uncomfortable he seemed with everything.
With a single, long sigh, he relaxed.
Gave into the hug, completely, and without holding back anymore.
Every breath he took you felt, were made aware how he drew his breath in several steps, as if he didn’t possess the strength to do it at once.
There was no more room between you but you felt his hold tighten, drawing you in closer.
This wasn’t a quick hello-or-goodbye hug, and it wasn’t a bear-hug, either. It was something entirely new and yet you felt incredibly safe.
There was no clock anywhere in sight and you closed your eyes.
Minutes passed. Eventually the desperateness fled his system, and then you were just holding the other.
At half past four, the bell rang again.
The sound drifted over the campus and reached you just as you entered the deserted lot, where only Yoongi’s shabby car still stood, under the trees, half hidden by bushes.
His thumb slid over the back of your hand as he lightly tugged on your connection.
“Can I come visit your place?” You asked, once you’d sat down. He’d been to your tiny flat a few times now, but had never asked if you would like to see his.
“Are you sure?” He turned the key and glanced at you before backing out of the spot.
“Of course! I want to see the musical genius’ living space. Pretty please.”
“Don’t remind me of that dumb nickname…” He groaned, and you laughed, turning the radio up and the window down.
Warm air came rushing in, and together with the upbeat song currently playing, it felt a lot like a scene from a movie.
For the first time in weeks you felt fully free. Able to smile at the wind touching your face, knowing Yoongi was there with you.
You sat on his couch together, scrolling your phones aimlessly after thoroughly inspecting his space.
The pizza he ordered in the evening was fluffy and sated your hunger, and afterwards you were too tired to move much.
“I think… I’ll just stay here.” You gesticulated around the room, stretching and placing your legs across his lap.
He wiped his hands clean of the last grease and tugged on your shins.
“Here? You sure? I can always-”
He pressed a hand against his mouth and burped. Afterwards he groaned and fell back against the backrest.
“No, you’ll have to stay. There’s no way I’m leaving this flat again today.”
You grinned and made grabby hands for the pack of cherry gummies.
Your head was buzzing with how late it was, and how tired you’d become.
With teeth brushed, the sweet taste of cherries was long gone, but in the dark of the room, it wasn’t unwelcome.
Yoongi was lying just a little away from you, head half buried in one of his many pillows.
“Is this weird?” He asked. You heard his palm slipping over the mattress, before his fingertips touched your arm and he momentarily pulled back.
Until you put your hand out, and he curled his pinky around yours.
“Hm?”
You asked.
“I mean this… We… We’re not…” He trailed off, his other hand covering yours as he rolled over. In the darkness you could only make out his eyes by the reflection of what little light there still was, in them. “Other people our age have been partying since noon, and we…”
“Is that bad?” You asked, turning on your side to fully face him.
“No, don’t think so.”
“Do you want it, any other way?”
He shook his head.
“I just wonder… Jin asked me if we were dating the other day. I didn’t know what to say. It doesn’t feel like we are, but I also… don’t feel like we’re not doing that. It. Something. I mean we’re not doing that, either, which I never thought about, and-”
He huffed. “It feels weird, to lie here, with you, and not do anything. But I’m glad. About it. In a way.”
You smiled and squeezed his hand.
“Then that’s enough for us. Isn’t it?”
He hummed, and slowly leaned his forehead against your joined hands.
Your phone binged with an incoming message from Yoongi.
It was two weeks into the break, and after staying over at his place, you hadn’t heard or seen too much of him.
His message read 'I uploaded it.', and a link to Spotify.
You clicked on it.
A playlist opened, and you bit on your lip at the name - He'd titled it 'Your Playlist'.
While you cleaned out your notes and organized your room, you listened.
It was a mix of his self-composed piano pieces, acoustic, or electric, with mixed other instruments and occasionally his voice.
The melodies came easy and wound their way in your ears, and it brought a smile to your face at the warmth you felt at their sound.
The last one was titled “My Favourite”.
You watched as the song’s covers changed, and sat back on your rug.
What unfolded in front of your ears was different than the rest - it was a blend of sounds, playing to support your favourite song of his, but a remix version. The beat slowly wound up higher, coming faster, until it dropped - to your voice, filtered and a little tuned, to fit the short space.
‘My favourite’, you heard yourself say, and then the whisper of Yoongi’s voice answered, ‘Just for you’, and you bit down on your lip.
He sung and rapped more, and you needed at least five listens before you’d caught it all.
‘Can I come over?’ You texted him, burning with energy and the deeply rooted wish to see him.
‘ofc’ came his answer, and you were out of the door.
Not much later, halfway across town, you hugged your arms around him as tight as you could, smiling so wide it had your cheeks hurting, and yet not able to keep the tears escaping your eyes.
“I love you, too.” You mumbled into his shoulder, feeling him tense a little.
“I’m so glad you understood.” He whispered, and leaned his head against yours. “I’m so glad you understand. Me. I’m so glad you. Found me.”
notes: for alex, who i send an ask wondering if she might know how to title a story i was writing and if she'd ever heard of this weirdly specific song i could not name?
and then told me i should check out this song (the title of this fic) - which ended up being the very one i'd been searching for for four days. thank you.
#useraalex#bangtanarmynet#thekpopnetwork#no use of y/n#gender neutral reader#gender neutral pronouns#yoongi au#bts au#bts imagines#bts scenarios#bts fluff#bts slowburn#reader insert#min yoongi/reader#min yoongi x reader#bts reader insert#slowburn#13k#aro ace reader#no romance#no smut#min yoongi#yoongi fanfic#university au#college au#student min yoongi#piano#touch starved#love confessions#min yoongi is bad at feelings and words
86 notes
·
View notes
Text
we can’t do this
Book: Open Heart
Warning: one or two swears, lots of angst.
Rating: General
Pairing: Ethan x F!MC
Word Count: 2500+
Author’s note: Sequel to ‘denial’. I’d advise you to read the first part here before reading this to avoid any confusion. More notes about this fic is in my reblog. While you’re at it, take a look at my masterlist!
“We wish you a merry Christmas...”
The words trailed off her lips, almost soft enough to be drowned out by the sound of her boots crunching against the snow. It was uncharacteristically quiet for her.
Her hand lightly brushed against the railing next to her, quickly retracting back when her nerves registered the low temperature of the surface. The sudden movement made a lump of snow that had previously sat calmly on top of the railing to fall to the ground before her feet.
Another clump fell, this time many meters further, the sound of it meeting the river below the bridge where she stood disrupted the short period of calmness that washed over her for the first time in quite a while.
The cold was starting to numb her fingers, making them feel stiff and frozen; though she was more distracted by the fallen snow that had unsurprisingly seeped through the thin layer of clothes she was wearing, which were now painfully scrubbing against her clammy skin.
“...we wish you a merry Christmas…”
The sky hung above her like a blackout curtain, the stars nearly invisible behind a thick layer of clouds. Surroundings only dimly illuminated by the faulty streetlights that lined either side of the road, she focused her vision on the small clouds of air that escaped her mouth with each shuddering breath in between each line of the song.
The song wouldn’t, couldn’t leave her mind, always lingering at the back of her head, even though Christmas was long over. If one would consider a week long, that is.
She paused longer this time before continuing the next line. Bringing her soaked sleeve to her face and rubbing her stinging eyes, she tried to clear her vision from the tears she’d been struggling more and more to hold back the further she strayed from the city.
“...we wish you a merry Christmas…”
She leaned against the metal bars in front of her, the only things preventing her from plunging into the rushing river below.
Amid the peaceful environment she isolated herself in, she could hear the sound of the people in their homes not too far away. The cheers and celebrations from the people celebrating the new year with friends, family, the people they love.
Imagining it like it was taking place right in front of her eyes, she saw how everyone stood close together, bright sparklers in one hand, bubbling champagne in the other. She swore she could hear their laughter and drunken giggles. She smiled as she thought of them shamelessly slurring their favourite songs at the top of their lungs next to the old karaoke machine they only got out of the closet for times like these, her favourite times.
But she wasn’t them. Hell, she wasn’t even the one awkwardly lingering at the corner of the room, envious of all the fun everyone else was having with their friends but too afraid to join in. No, she was standing there, in the cold, with nobody by her side.
Tugging on the green leather jacket, the only thing she brought with her, she brought it closer to her chest. She was sure that it was the one thing she could never bring herself to let go of. It was the one thing of his that she still held on to, and yet it still failed to protect her, to give her warmth, a tiny feeling of not being so alone in the numbing weather. She laughed at the irony of that damn jacket being the polar opposite of what he was to her.
A glance at the watch on her wrist that was half-hidden by her sleeve told her that it was 23:54, 6 minutes until midnight, a point in time that symbolised a new beginning for so many people, but was just yet another moment that had lost its spark to her.
“...and a happy...new...year…”
Her voice gave in, barely managing to pronounce those 5 little words, and her legs soon followed.
With her back now turned to face the barrier, she let herself slide down as slowly and gently as her jittery legs would allow--which admittedly, wasn’t a lot anymore. She more or less plummeted into the snow on the rough floor beneath her soles. And though her breath was caught in her throat for a moment as she felt the full extent of her body’s impact on the bitter cold, there wasn’t any movement to indicate she was getting up anytime soon.
A tear fell from her eyes. She didn’t feel it, she didn’t feel a lot, but she could still register that it was hot in contrast to the seemingly never-ending shower of snow that slowly fell on and around her. Another tear slipped out and she mindlessly watched as tear after tear dripped down her cheeks and fell onto the thick bed of snow.
Before she knew it, her face felt warmer than before, the wet tracks down her face warming her despite the sobs that shook her body more than the cold ever had. She shut her eyes as tightly as her weakening body would allow her, it was a desperate attempt to stop and she knew it. And so she let go. She let the shaking and the sobs and the cold take over, letting her legs go limp and fully enclose themselves in the snow, her hands fell to her side instead of tightly clenching them inside her pockets. She let herself be exposed to whatever poor soul was roaming the streets on the outskirts of town at that time of the night and had the displeasure of witnessing the in the state she was in.
Bells rang loudly in the air, signalling the start of the new year. The formerly pitch-black sky behind her was now filled with the loud and colourful explosions in the form of New Year fireworks. She didn’t want to start the new year just yet, still too caught up in everything that happened last year. She only wished she could turn back time.
The last time she saw him was bad, horrible, but that feeling wasn’t as bad as the one she was feeling right now.
The last time she saw him was...so long ago. At least that’s what it felt like. In reality, something she wasn’t too sure she was even apart of anymore, it had barely been half a year, yet it felt like an eternity ago.
As the fireworks died out, so did she. It was like the memories of him were slowly moving past her along with the previous year.
She started walking back to Donahue’s, simultaneously the best and worst place for her to be headed at that moment. On one hand, everyone was there, all her friends, colleagues, and superiors from edenbrook were at the local bar ringing in the new year. It had become somewhat of a tradition, the forever busy doctors came together and were a family for that blissful little period of time, drinking, chatting, dancing the night away. She smiled at the thought of her friends making fools of themselves and being as rowdy as can be.
It was a long way back into town, but the freezing weather and the adrenaline and numbness wearing off were a more than helpful incentive for her to hurry into the packed establishment and warm herself with the burning feeling of all sorts of alcohol sliding down the back of her throat.
By the time she walked in, her tears had dried and she managed to conjure up as convincing of a smile as a person who had just broken down at the side of the road could. Her friends welcomed her with open arms and shot glasses full of questionable liquids, minds not focused enough to wonder and ask why she had only stumbled in well after the clock had struck twelve, much like an opposite-cinderella.
It was just after 1:45 in the morning. Of the 8 that were originally there, only her and Sienna were left, the others had gone back home not too long ago but Sienna insisted on staying with her.
She had been silent for a while now, unlike the rest of the bar. Many patrons had gone but the ones that were left looked to be far from it. She sat silently as Sienna told stories about almost anything, she had been loosely paying attention. It wasn’t that she wasn’t interested, she really was, but her night hadn’t been the most celebratory.
It wasn’t looking like the night could get worse than it already had, but then the door opened, the bell at the top ringing and the swoosh of the door closing behind them clear. The same couldn’t be said for the countless drunk Bostonians who had come and gone throughout the night.
A few seconds passed and firm footsteps cut through the chatter of the crowd before her intoxicated mind had registered that someone walked in, and it took even longer for her to look up and realise that he had walked in.
It was barely half a second after it dawned on her that it was actually him that had just entered her line of sight and not another one of those dream scenarios she experienced in the weeks after he left.
In the haze of the moment, she wasn’t sure who looked over first but they had caught each other’s eye. She swore she saw him physically stop in his tracks and freeze up at the sight of her, and suddenly she felt more intoxicated than she had been all night, like she got high just off the sight of him, if that made any sense.
It was like the most cliche fairytale dream she had ever seen; the room seemed to fade away and a spotlight shined down on the two of them, like two lost lovers reunited at last. And if she were honest, that’s all she hoped for, to be in that situation where she could run into his arms, his only-for-her warm embrace that she couldn’t get enough of, and just melt into him after being apart for so long.
Instead, she settled for staying put and pretending like her mind wasn’t racing, with the exception of the glances she sneaked in when she thought he wasn’t looking. But as her luck would have it, he was, every single time.
Sienna got up to leave, advising her to at the very least say a friendly goodbye to him before she left, if nothing else. She reluctantly nodded her head. Thinking she had everyone fooled that she was fine after he left was a stretch, especially when it came to Sienna Trinh. It was almost like she had a sixth sense for spotting it.
She stood up and walked over to the bar, careful to steer her vision away from where he sat at the very end of the bar, a glass of his usual top-shelf whiskey in his palms. Ordering one last drink before she faced her fears, she walked over to him, looking in his direction but not quite meeting his eye.
“Hey.”
“Hi,” he replied in his usual toneless voice.
“Let’s sit over there,” she said, “I’d like to talk.”
He nodded, following her to an empty corner booth at the very back, almost fully secluded from the rest of the room.
They walked, sat down, and stared at each other in silence, unsure of what to say to the other.
“You went away for what? A month or two?” She lied, she knew exactly how long it had been. Hell, if she really concentrated, she probably knew it down to the second.
“Something along the lines of that, I can’t really remember,” he lied too. The guilt that was constantly eating away at him made it damn near impossible for him to forget.
That voice, his goddamned voice. It felt so good to hear his voice again, like it set off delayed New Year’s fireworks inside of her, and the bastard didn’t have the slightest clue that he had that kind of effect on her.
She let out something of a cross between a laugh and a scoff. Ethan, not being able to hear her inner thoughts, furrowed his brows and his hands started fidgeting, inching closer to her glass, concerned that she had drunk a little too much.
Lost in her own thoughts about him, she almost didn’t hear him when he finally broke the silence hanging eerily in the air between them.
“I’ve missed you.”
“I miss you too,” she replied back, almost too quickly.
Surpassing any expectations she held regarding what would happen when he walked in, he hastily leaned over the table separating them and pressed his lips against hers. Her body tensed at first, but eventually returned the kiss.
Are you kidding me? Her head practically screamed at her internally. That was all it took? For him to say that he misses her and just like that she’d forgive him and forget about everything that had happened that past year?
Finally making a logical decision, she pulled back, drawing in a breath from the loss of contact despite being the cause of it.
“Ethan,” she breathed out, all the air suddenly disappearing from her lungs, “we can’t do this.”
The look of hurt and pain that showed on his face almost made her want to take back what she had just said, but she knew better than that, “I can’t do this. Not after everything that’s happened.”
“Rookie…” He trailed off in a pleading tone.
“I begged you,” she recalled that dreadful moment in time, forever branded into her memories.
“I’m sorry. Please, I-”
“Why did you leave me?” She said bluntly despite her quivering lips and watering eyes.
“They needed my help an-” he tried to make things better, soothe her conscience, and at the same time his too.
“Why did you leave me?” Never in a million years did she ever think that Ethan Ramsey, world-renowned internal medicine doctor, would have commitment fucking issues.
She had hoped. She wasn’t religious but she hoped to god that he would be different with her, that it would be different with him, that it would be different despite him. It never did happen, no matter how much she tried to convince herself that it did. Maybe that’s why she had broken down that much after he left, because it meant that they weren’t good enough, that she wasn’t good enough for him to want to stay and try, maybe that’s why she couldn’t bear to risk it by being together with him again.
Maybe that’s why she stood up and cupped the now tearful Ethan’s face in her hands and placed a parting kiss on his lips, as he had done the same for her so long ago, muttering a soft apology and a soulful goodbye. Then she let go. She let her arm drop back down to her side and walked out while she was still thinking clearly enough to not go back on the promises she made to herself.
#I don’t really like the ending#but oh well#the last time I posted a fic was Christmas#now that I think about it it’s kinda sad to be posting angst at 1 am#pixelberry choices#open heart#choices#choices open heart#open heart book 2#choices ethan ramsey#ethan ramsey#ethan jonah ramsey#open heart book 1#Ethan x mc#playchoices#pixelberry#angst#open heart fic#open heart angst#open heart fanfic#open heart fanfiction#open heart Ethan Ramsey#I write this at 1 am#it’s now 11 am and I’m so fucking tired#choices fic writers creations#fic of the week#checkurwindow writes
55 notes
·
View notes
Note
OMGGG CONGRATULATIONS ON 1K BESTIEEE,,, IM SO SO SOOO PROUD OF YOU,, if its still open could I please get a matchup,, they look really really good and they're so creative and big brain!!!
Soo heres a bit about me:
My favourite trope has to be either enemies to lovers, or best friends to lovers,, I can't decide which one as I love them both so so much
For dynamics it has to be the cold, seemingly emotionless character that becomes a soft baby for their significant other
Or the character that hates everyone except their significant other
I'm an intp-a
My love language is quality time and acts of service and I show love through acts of service, affirmations and touch
Star sign is Aries, rising is Aquarius and moon is Pisces
I'm a very open person, just not with my feelings
I'm very very introverted
I hate going outside in public, especially if there's a big crowds, I hate it
I love reading books, I will literally read any genre, but I'm quite picky with the actual way the book is written
I love love love Greek mythology and just mythology in general
And I love watching needy documentaries about space and physics and time.
Oh and my name is Deedz!
I hope this is okay and it's not too much!! I hope you have a wonderful/ fantastic day and I wish you all the very best. Also please remember to take care of yourself and please drink lots and lots of water. Take care!!!
you’ve been cast !
a note from the director ! aaaa apologies for the wait, i do hope you still enjoy this regardless of that :<< you didn’t mention your pronouns so i went with they / them :) hope you’re having a really good day <3
elle presents… [ let ‘em talk ]
starring
deedz <3
KYOUTANI kentarou as the main lead : despite his rather intimidating and overwhelming exterior, this man melts when he is with you. his favorite time in the day is coming home to you after several exhausting hours of practice. strong arms wrap around your figure as he joins you in whatever documentary you’ve decided to watch. he may not be able to understand, but it doesn’t matter as long as he’s with you. kyoutani doesn’t mind staying in with you, preferring to listen to you ramble about greek mythology or whatever novel you were currently reading with the fondest look in his eyes. rest your palm against his cheek and he’s practically putty in your hands; ready to take on the world with you by his side.
KOGANEGAWA kanji as the second lead : how did an introvert and the world’s biggest extrovert manage to become best friends? well, neither you nor koganegawa know but you’ve accepted it as it is. he’s pushed you out of your comfort zones way too many times to count, but he also knows when to dial it back and reign it in. he cares about you, even as he’s talking through the documentaries you watch together and burning all the breakfasts he’s attempted to cook for you. koganegawa is aware that your heart already belongs to someone else, but he doesn’t mind as long as he’s in your life.
[ series synopsis ] nobody is sure why deedz is dating kyoutani kentarou of all people…especially when most people think that their best friend, koganegawa kanji, would be a much better fit.
the pilot ep : whispers amongst the people in their social circle threaten deedz and kyoutani’s relationship. he wants to ignore — maybe even fight — them, but what if his partner does deserve better? koganegawa learns to let go.
the mid-season episode : kyoutani wants to ask deedz for a break, but is that what he really wants? or did he just finally give in to the pressure. koganegawa attempts to talk him out of it.
the series finale : after a few days of not speaking to each other, deedz decides to take matter into their own hands. koganegawa helps set everything up, wanting nothing more than their happiness.
a song from the ost : cool dry place by katy kirby
“ can i come over? is it too late? would you keep me in a cool, dry place? ” …plays during the show’s halfway point. kyoutani and deedz are talking a break from their relationship, a montage of them trying to get on with their lives as normal. clearly, something is missing.
a scene from the script ; from [ ep. 8 — finale : only you ]
INT. SENDAI CITY GYM - EARLY EVENING
The game had ended a couple of hours ago and the court is empty. Unoccupied bleachers, loosened volleyball nets, and a reset scoreboard surround KYOUTANI as he kicks a stray volleyball that rolled towards him. Not too much force, but not too gently either. There’s a frown on his face and a furrow in between his brows, a rather strange sight as his team had one the match.
Standing a few feet away from the court’s entrance is DEEDZ, accompanied by KOGANEGAWA, peeking through the doorway to check if KYOUTANI is still there. When their suspicions are confirmed, they let out a heavy breath.
KOGANEGAWA
Think you can handle this one on your own?
DEEDZ doesn’t give a verbal reply, mind beginning to race and heart threatening to beat out of their chest. Still, they give him a barely noticeable nod.
KOGANEGAWA
Okay. Staff says you have fifteen minutes before they have to lock the gym up. (pats them on the shoulder, an encouraging grin playing on their lips) Good luck!
Without another words, KOGANEGAWA turns to leave and DEEDZ enters the court. The soles of her shoes hitting the floor makes KYOUTANI aware of their presence.
KYOUTANI
(turns to face them, shocked) What are you doing here?
DEEDZ
I should be asking you the same thing, game’s over.
KYOUTANI
Just needed to think. (huffs) You should go.
DEEDZ ignores his words and makes their way towards him. KYOUTANI finds himself frozen to the ground, unable to move a single muscle and letting them take his hands in theirs.
DEEDZ
I’ve been doing some thinking too…(pauses, takes a breath before looking him in the eyes). I want to be with you. Only you. I don’t care what anybody else thinks, they don’t see how you are with me. Yeah, you’re tough and maybe a little intimidating but, you’re sweet and kind too-
KYOUTANI
(cuts them off, shaking his head) You don’t mean that.
DEEDZ
(lets go of his hand, resting a palm on his cheek) But I do.
feel like getting cast for something too ? see if auditions are open here.
#📄 — the cast list!#(if you're up to it) lmk how I did ! I'd love to hear your thoughts <3#angsty slice of life with some underrated boys <3#I'd love to see it <3
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
Calum Hood one shot
Word count: 1903
Summary: Calum and y/n have been dating for quite some time now but haven’t let the world know yet. It’s not until one concert where Calum decides to surprise her.
my boy ahhhh i love him. this is one thats basically just fluff, I hope you enjoy xx
WILDFLOWER.
You and Calum have been dating for some time now, actually quite a lot of time, but neither of you feel the need to expose your relationship to the media quite just yet. You two love that you are each others secret and that your love is hidden from the world. Of course your families and friends know about you two, how could they not - you guys are practically glued to each other when you’re together. But you two just want to savour your love for the two of you just a bit more before letting the world know the reasons behind all his songs and all your giddy smiles.
The most exciting moments are when you’re both at the same event, texting each other in the car on the way there, Calum obviously arriving with his band mates and you as an actress, with your team. You two exchange cheeky looks at each other all night long and try to hide your giggles and smiles on the red carpets and tables. A few points in the nights you two would text each other to meet near the bathrooms or in an empty hallway and you two would exchange lots of rushed exhilarating kisses at the idea of being caught.
It wasn’t until one day when Calum had surprised you with tickets to one of his shows whilst he was on tour. When Calum went on tour you would miss him dearly and hate going to bed when he wouldn’t be there on his side. So when Calum’s show was in LA you of course wanted to go and be there to support your beautiful boyfriend, but obviously in a discrete way.
So the night of the concert comes, Calum is smashing the bass and singing his vocals like he’s never before. Calum searches the crowd for you looking for you and your best friend you had bought along to the show. You were standing there drink in hand, biggest smile on your face bopping along to the songs you had heard over a million of times but never got sick of.
Calum smiled at the sight of you, you never failed to make his cheeks tint pink and his heart to beat double time. It wasn’t until it was Calum’s turn to talk, causing lots of yells and screams from the crowd.
“How are we tonight LAAA?” Calum dragged out causing the crowd to go crazy.
Calum continued to talk some smack with the boys, hyping the crowd up at some points and the rest just saying some random stuff that he and the boys didn’t even know what they were on about.
“Tonight theres some one pretty special here” Calum begins to speak and your mouth gaped open slightly not expecting these words at all. The crowd goes crazy in confusion and your best friend pinched your side signally shock as well as for you to stop looking so surprised so no one assumes anything.
Before the concert a few people noticed you and asked for some pictures but not too many to make a scene.
Michael, Luke and Ashton all share confused looks with each other also not expecting Calum to announce your presence.
Calum looked a little bit nervous but played it off cool as he swiped the sweat of his forehead and began to smile when he spoke and scratched the back of his neck. “So for the next song we are gonna sing I’m gonna dedicate it to that special someone” Calum let out a breathy laugh almost in nervousness, “this is our new song wildflower everybody.” The crowd went absolutely mental once Calum backed away from the microphone grabbing a sip of water. Luke and Michael both walk up to Calum near Ashton’s drums pretending to get ready for the song but you know they were actually asking Calum what the fuck he’s doing.
As the song started to play you felt your cheeks burn red and your heart beat faster, you take a large sip of the drink in your hands and turn to your best friend who also stood there in shock.
“Oh my god” You slowly let out.
“I know y/n. What the fuck” Your best friend speaks but then follows it up with a breathy laugh. “It’s kind of cute though” she proceeds to say.
You feel your cheeks burn even more “it’s lovely” you begin “I just um, didn’t expect it” you finish still gobsmacked at him practically announcing he has a girlfriend. Gosh this is going to be all over twitter tomorrow you think to yourself.
“He really loves you y/n, you can tell” your best friend speaks right before Calum starts to sing and you feel your heart beat rise each second.
I hear you callin' out my name
I love the sound, I love the taste
And I can see it in your face
You've got a side you can't explain
Calum sings, holding onto the microphone staring straight at you, deep into your eyes like its just you and him in the whole room. Everyone begins to fade away and its just you two right then and there.
You're tellin' me, tellin' me, tellin' me you wanna come over
You wanna be, wanna be, wanna be, wanna be closer
I love it when you wear your hair down over your shoulder
'Cause I wanna hold ya
Calum begins to smirk, cheekily. His eyes never divert from yours as he continues to sing the next line, where he winks, right at you.
'Cause I know where tonight is going
That bloody boy you thought as you shook your head slightly and smiled as your cheeks burnt red and he began to bop up and down to the beat singing the chorus.
tonight was definitely gonna go somewhere.
You're the only one who makes me
Every time we
I'll tell you what I like
My wildflower
You're the only one who makes me
Every time we
I'll tell you what I like
My wildflower
You know you are my favourite fantasy
A fatal love song
Waterfall is overflowin'
You're the only one who makes me
Every time we
I'll tell you what I like
My wildflower
Calum sang the whole chorus in pure lust, love, excitement and happiness staring down at you, his girl. He never confirmed anyones thoughts on who this ‘special someone’ is but he knows he made you feel very special.
You bop to the beat along side your best friend as you and Calum’s eyes remained lock, you’re amused with how Calum’s smile is through the roof as he knows this song is fully about pleasure and knows that when he performs it very much so turns you on.
You two are eyeing each other now, your eyes have turned more dark full of lust and excitement for your plans for after his show. Calum stares at you and lets his tongue fold out and wet his lips as he goes to grab his microphone again. His hands looking very fucking sexy.
The boys on stage seem to be aware of what Calum’s doing and laugh quite amused at the very intimate interaction between the two of you that no one else in the room is aware of besides your close friends. But you are sure, two and two will be put together and by tomorrow Calum’s little act will be all over twitter.
The boys continued to perform, Calum’s eyes never leaving yours as he did so. Shortly after, the show came to an end and you and your best friend were leaving the venue and walking towards the side door to go back stage.
“OMG Y/N!” a young girl practically screamed causing a huge amount of attention to be pointed at you.
You nervously smile and wave softly at the girl thats running towards you with a few friends.
“I’m so sorry I just love all your movies you’re one of my favourite actresses” she tells you talking extremely fast.
You smile at her as a red tint starts to creep up on your cheeks. “Don’t be sorry” you let out a breathy laugh.
“Could we please get a photo with you?” She asks nicely with her beaming up at you.
“Of course” you say and stand next to all the girls while your best friend offers to take the photo.
“Do you know the 5sos boys?” one of the girls asks you and you feel your cheeks begin to grow warm.
Before you could answer another one spits out “OMG was wildflower about you??” She questions you and you feel everyones attention placed on you.
You let out a nervous chuckle, “I’m just here for the show, I love their music” you let out.
The girls nod, not fully believing you. One of them tries to ask another question but your friend pulls your arm and you look back at the girls. “Sorry girls I have to go, lovely meeting you” you let out.
The girls all say a cheerful bye and one girl yells out something about Calum that you couldn’t understand.
Your best friend takes you through the door to get to backstage that everyone thinks is a fire escape. Luckily they didn’t suspect that you’re going backstage you thought to yourself.
You walked backstage in search for the boys dressing room as you started to feel more nervous. Everyone is going to know soon you think. What is everyone going to say? Are their fans going to be angry? Is everyone going to be mean? You start to feel anxious and your best friend notices.
“Y/n whats wrong?” She asks you as she turns to face you putting both hands on your cheeks cupping your face.
“Nothing” you mumble, “I just need some water”.
She nods as she asks the closest staff member for directions and he leads you two to the catering area.
You drown yourself in a cup of water and you start to feel a bit better almost automatically. Your nerves didn’t fully settle though until you heard your name come from your favourite voice.
“Y/n” Calum yelled from across the room as he did a little jog over to you and embraced you in a big hug, his tatted arms warming your whole body.
“Hey lovey, did you like the show” He mumbled to you as he angled his face to look down at you.
“M’loved it” you mumbled into his chest.
Calum chuckled a little bit because he knows how much you love his hugs.
But you pull out abruptly and face him giving him a frown.
Calum’s face turned into a frown as he looks at your expression. “What’s wrong?” He asks confused.
“What was that stunt you pulled?” You asked, mouth turning into a grin and so does his as he realises you’re joking.
Calum laughs “Did ya like it?” He smiled at you, his beautiful smile.
You giggled and pressed a kiss to his soft lips. “I loved it Cal, but you do know everyone is going to be asking so many questions” you mumble out of the kiss.
“Let them.” Calum whispers as he brings you back into the kiss holding your waist and pressing your body tightly against his.
You realised that it doesn’t matter what anyone thinks, as long as you have him.
🐰masterlist
#calum hood#calum hood imagines#calum hood imagine#calum hood blurb#calum hood smut#performer calum#5sos#calm#love#smut#fanfic#masterlist#calum hood gifs#calum hood au#calum hood blurbs#calum hood fanfiction#fanfiction#calum x reader#reader x calum#boyfriend calum
428 notes
·
View notes
Text
rewrite the stars.
Word count: 2300+
Warnings: Ashton x genderneutral!reader (I think I was finally able to do it). soulmate fic, but not exactly. angst. small bit of fluffy feelings in the end.
Author’s note: This just happened. One moment I was listening to the song, and in the next one we were here.
masterlist.
- - - - -
Ashton laughed at the story you’ve just told him about one of your professors, making dimples appear on his face, his smile wide and beautiful – and you just felt yourself falling in love with him a little more. He took a sip of his coffee as you fiddled with the sharpie in your hand, drawing flowers and stars on an empty paper cup that you took from the counter. His eyes followed the lines of the pen, smiling fondly as you wrote your name at the bottom, pushing the finished art piece in front of him so he can take a proper look.
As he took the cup from you his eyes suddenly flickered to your wrist, catching a smudge on your skin, and he furrowed his eyebrows. You pulled your hand back, tugging on the sleeve of your shirt and resting it in your lap, already knowing what he has seen. The paper cup slightly crinkled under his fingers, his gaze only skimming over the drawings he would usually study and examine with the professionalism of a scholar. He set it back down between the two of you, tugging on the sleeve of his jacket as well, just like you did moments ago.
”It’s not me,” you whispered, a sad smile on your face.
”How long?” Ashton sighed, eyes finally meeting yours, and you shrugged a little, pulling on your sleeve again.
”A little while now.”
* * *
Soulmate.
A word that was whispered between little kids on the playground and between teenagers in school hallway. College kids claimed they’ve felt a pull to go to schools just because their soulmate might be there too. Parents told their tales how they’ve met each other even though it was hard when there were so little opportunities to get out of small towns or across the globe.
Like everyone else you’ve also craved to find the one person who was meant for you. You were 11 when your mark appeared on your wrist, and for the first few months you’ve tried to check everyone else’s around you, hoping you will find them soon enough. But as time passed your search subsided, telling yourself that you will let fate do its job, and you’ve welcomed the thought that your soulmate will step into your life unexpectedly.
Years later you were still dreaming about them, sometimes catching yourself looking at the people passing the coffee shop’s counter, some hiding their marks under their sleeves or their watches, bracelets and band aids put over them for privacy. Others proudly showed them off, giving a chance to wandering eyes to catch a glimpse of the small tattoo painting their skins. You were one of those people who liked to keep your mark to yourself, thinking of it as something precious that you only shared with one other person in the Universe.
When Ashton came around you were sure you have found the one – he was everything you’ve wanted in a soulmate, and when he came back to the shop day after day, lightly flirting while you were making his coffee, you let yourself hope and dream. He started asking you to join him while he sat outside, enjoying the sun and his favourite drink, and the two of you started to schedule your days around your little dates. Your heart skipped a beat whenever he crossed the threshold, the bell signalling his arrival, and your co-workers gave you a smile, letting you have your break until he needed to be on his way again.
It was on a Friday afternoon in the midst of the afternoon crowd when you’ve learned that Ashton wasn’t your soulmate. He only had a few minutes as he asked his coffee from you, giving you an apologetic smile while already turning back to the conversation he had on his phone. The sleeve of his leather jacket left his wrist uncovered and your eyes landed on the small symbol painting his skin, the tattoo looking nothing like the one on your own wrist. You gave him a tight smile as he left the coffee shop, holding back your frustrated tears until you were in the silence of your dorm room, feeling stupid for letting yourself build up a fantasy in your head.
Ashton came back on Monday, once again asking you to join him, and you didn’t have the heart to tell anyone that the two of you will never end up together. You felt selfish, wanting his time and attention for yourself until he realized that you were not who he was looking for. Yet you couldn’t help yourself – maybe this was the pull people have talked about before, a connection with someone that felt so easy and natural. Your dates with Ashton were always the best part of your days, and you were not ready to give up on those. Not yet.
* * *
Ashton’s eyes were searching you, then slowly held his arm out to you, tugging up the sleeve of his jacket and shirt. You bit your lip as you looked at his mark, then reached for your own sleeve, pulling it back to your elbow and put your arm next to his. There was nothing similar about the two tattoos, the dots and lines painting different shapes on your wrists, and you couldn’t pretend anymore: it was clear as day that you two weren’t meant to be.
Soft lips pressed against your mark, and a shiver ran down your spine, tears prickling at the corner of your eyes as Ashton lightly traced the shape with his fingertips. He kissed your knuckles, pulling your hand against his face, brushing another kiss on your mark. His eyes were sad, and you perfectly understood what he was going through – you were familiar with the heartache this little revelation caused.
”Can I still see you?” he asked in the end, fingers still tangled together. ”Just until I find them. Can I see you?”
You nodded, still feeling selfish for holding onto someone that wasn’t meant to be yours, but it was clear that Ashton wasn’t ready either. Letting someone special go always felt like they’ve taken a part of your heart with them, but with Ashton it would have felt like someone just ripped the whole thing out of your chest.
* * *
”I’ve found her.”
It was weeks later when Ashton has finally confessed that his soulmate appeared in his life. He looked distracted and was mostly quiet during your coffee dates, and you were sure that something like this could be behind of it all. You knew what this meant, and you were mentally preparing yourself to say your goodbyes to Ashton. You squeezed his fingers in yours, giving him an encouraging smile.
”I’m sure she’s wonderful,” you made yourself say the words, their taste bitter on your tongue. ”I’m happy for you, Ash.”
”Will you be alright?” he sighed, pulling your hand into his lap to run his thumb over your mark. ”I don’t want to leave you like this. I feel like I’m… like…”
His chair scraped on the concrete, moving it next to yours so he could lean closer, resting his forehead against yours. You felt your breath hitch – he’s never been this close to you. Your heart pounded in your ears, but his closeness made you feel calm. Ashton grabbed both of your hands, eyes searching yours as he bit his bottom lip, his voice only a whisper.
”I don’t want to give up on you.”
”You’re not, Ash,” you shook your head, but he just huffed.
”I have something really special with you. You and I – we have so much in common. These last months have been so wonderful and I just can’t stop thinking about you. How do you expect me to move onto someone whom I don’t even know?”
”But she’s your soulmate,” you felt a tear run down your cheek, and Ashton lightly brushed it away. ”You should be with her. It’s not me Ashton. I can’t be that for you.”
”The Universe really fucked this up,” he let out another sigh, nuzzling his nose against yours as he did. ”Can I kiss you? Just once in my life. Just to know what it feels like.”
”I wouldn’t be able to let you go,” you pulled away, quickly getting out of your chair. ”I think it’s better if you go now. Bye Ash.”
You were sure that was the last time you’ve seen Ashton – he never came back to your coffee shop again.
* * *
The guy smiling at you made you stop in your tracks, and as he pulled a few bills out of his wallet you’ve caught sight of the tattoo on his wrist. The same pattern looked back at you, the one you have seen every day of your life since you were 11. You’ve seen him a few times already, and he did come back regularly, always being nice to you, sometimes stumbling around his words as he tried to flirt with you. You made sure to tug your sleeves down to your wrists, not wanting anyone to see your shared marks – you’ve been waiting for him since forever, but it didn’t came close to what you’ve had with Ashton. Maybe some people weren’t meant to be together. Maybe some soulmates weren’t meant to find each other. Maybe living a life alone would be better than living a lie every day for the rest of your life.
* * *
”I’m sorry, but we’re closed.”
The footsteps didn’t fade, and you huffed out a frustrated sigh, ready to tell the person coming into the shop to leave before you’ve said something you shouldn’t have. But as your eyes looked up at the stranger, you needed to realize that you know those hazel eyes staring back at you, have seen them daily for months – have fallen in love with them every time you had the chance to look into them.
”Ashton?”
”Hey, do you mind if I wait here until you close up?” he pushed his hands into his pockets, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
You nodded at him, and he sat down at the counter, silently watching as you cleaned up after your shift. He fiddled with the rings on his fingers before he picked up a paper cup and a pen, drawing patterns on it until you finished. As you stepped next to him to tell him that you should go, you caught sight of the cup in his hand – it was covered in your own mark, the lines and dots perfectly captured on the paper.
”Who said that…” he started, taking a deep breath before continuing. ”Who said that you can only have one soulmate? That the one should be someone you share a mark with?”
”Countless people before us,” you sat down next to him, resting your hands in your lap.
”What if you have nothing in common with them?” Ashton finally looked at you, eyes boring into yours.
You wanted to tell him about your soulmate, the guy with the nice smile and the stuttering flirting, the boring coffee order and how he didn’t make you feel anything at all. Ashton tapped his fingers against the counter, and you reached for his hand, covering it with yours.
”I’ve told her,” he said, and you nodded in understanding. ”I’ve tried to love her, but I– I couldn’t do it.”
”She will forgive you,” you squeezed his hand, but he just shook his head, turning towards you.
”No. No, she won’t. I’m not going back to her,” he kicked his foot against the leg of the chair. ”I refuse to be with someone who just doesn’t make me feel anything. Not when I have someone who makes me feel everything.”
”We’re not meant to be, Ashton,” you tugged his hands into your lap, and he scooted closer, legs bracketing yours. ”That’s not how the Universe works. At least… that’s what they tell us.”
”Let me decide my own fate,” he slowly leaned closer, resting his forehead against yours and you welcomed the feeling; new, but still so familiar. ”Let me give the middle finger to the stars and let me love you on my own terms. Be my soulmate, the one I have chosen. Please.”
You tipped your head forward, nose and lips lightly brushing against his until you felt his soft lips melt against yours, kissing you slowly but surely. His arms circled around your waist, pulling you as close as he could, tongue slipping in your mouth and fingers tangled into your hair. Ashton lightly nipped your lips, peppering it with little kisses until you rested against his chest, face buried in his neck, his body warm and comforting against yours.
”Will you be my soulmate?” you whispered against his shirt, and Ashton nodded, his lips pressing a kiss on your temple as he held you close.
”Maybe we could get our own mark,” he squeezed your hips, and you’ve looked up at him, his eyes sparkling with love and hope. ”What do you say?”
”That there’s a tattoo shop just a block away,” you giggled, tugging on the collar of his jacket. ”The guy gets his coffee from me every morning.”
”And I just have the perfect mark for the both of us,” Ashton grinned at you, leaning closer to press another kiss on your lips.
* * *
As Ashton wrapped his arms around you that night, spooning you from behind like you have imagined it so many times before, you let your gaze slide to your interlocked hands. He chuckled behind you, fingertip running over the healing tattoo on the inside of your middle finger, and you lovingly did the same to him before kissing him goodnight. The two little black stars rested next to each other as your fingers intertwined, a reminder that sometimes you can choose your own fate, no matter what is written in the stars.
- - - - -
@mymindwide @loveroflrh @sadistmichael @notinthesameguey @babylonashton @talkfastromance4 @dead-and-golden @fuckyeah5sostakemehome @karajaynetoday @myloverboyash @sexgodashton
#ashton irwin x reader#ashton irwin#ashton irwin fanfiction#soulmate!ashton#fiction time#afic: rewrite the stars
153 notes
·
View notes
Text
Kyu Sakamoto - an excerpt
Literally just procrastination writing from yesterday. I created 2 badass lesbian ocs for the MCU (mainly Rogers, Barnes, and Wilson's stories) and now I have a 7-page outline...... been in the fandom for 3 days..... ANYWAYS
Masterlist
@icedcoffee101 and @dragon-pups pushed me to write this sad excerpt, so here you go everyone!
TW: sad/depressing thoughts, questioning existence for a hot second, honestly it's just really fucking depressing, but I love it nonetheless.
Word count: 1519
Prompt/Inso: my 7-page outline of badass lesbians that keep an eye on bucky when he's the winter soldier (this excerpt isn't about that tho)
QUICK NOTE: this is during the events of TFATWS, episode 5 I believe? And Grace is mute, so she uses sign language (tho she's only in the flashback). So yeah. Enjoy some sad angst!
--
“Well,” she picked up the leather bag from the chair, holding it up with a smirk. “I brought records.”
Bucky’s resting bitch face turned up into a small smile. The only person with a decent music taste thankfully brought records to Sam’s ‘let’s finally work on this fucking boat’ party with most of the neighbours and people owing favours. Everyone was milling around, fixing whatever they were assigned to fix and laughing in the cool bay breeze.
“I sure hope you have 60s stuff in that huge bag of yours,” he chuckled, walking past her up the dock to bring the record player from the shore. She held the heavy bag with one arm as she unzipped the zipper, an old and dusty smell escaping the inside and showing the spines of dozens of records.
“You pack all those just for us, Ash?” Sarah came up beside her, admiring all the casings.
“I found them stuffed in a closet back in Africa. I thought I’d revisit some old favourites,” she smiled at her.
Bucky and Sam came back down the dock with the record player in tow and an amp, talking with each other about god knows what. They set the gear down on a bench, plugging in the amp. The four of them dug into the bag, each of them taking out 2 or 3 records each to examine.
“Damn, you really like your slow songs, huh?” Sam spoke up, showing her the record covers in his hands were indeed black and white photos and words she didn’t understand.
She smiled brightly. “Yup! The 60s were the times of slow songs, the best ones.”
“I full-heartedly agree,” Bucky laughed. He slid a perfect disk out its paper cover and carefully placed it on the spindle, sliding over the needle to the first song ridge.
“I hope you picked something upbeat,” Sarah said.
The music flooded through the amp, the old-sounding and staticy bass vibrating through the deck and resonated in everyone’s hearts. People started taking their wives and husbands and kids to dance to the seemingly upbeat song.
Sasha just stared wide-eyed at the spinning disk, a long shoved down lump of unshed sobs pushing up her throat.
--
‘We don’t have anywhere else to go, we have the papers, and we have the rings,’ Grace signed quickly, pulling Sasha through the doorway gently and resting her hands on her waist, Sasha’s hands instinctively moving to behind her neck.
“All we need is a song, Graceless,” she smiled softly, mesmerized by her new wife’s radiating happiness and her beautiful smile that could seemingly never be darkened. The white curtains blew gently in front of the open window by their records, the moon's soft glow flooding the hardwood floors the only light they needed.
She nodded in return. Grace pulled away and walked to their stack of brand-new records, picking the one off the top and putting the needle of the travel-sized player on the first song.
‘We better thank him for his demos,’ Grace signed, then extended a hand to her wife. Sasha smiled so brightly as she took it.
“The neighbours will have a fit, it’s 3 o’clock in the morning,” Sasha whispered, putting her chin on Grace’s shoulder and started swaying slowly with one hand lightly holding Grace’s and another around her arm.
‘Doesn’t matter,’ Grace tapped on her shoulder in a familiar rhythm.
She sighed in contentment. Why couldn’t every day be like this, nothing to worry about other than what song to choose, no people to run after, no running from Hydra. Just the soft blowing of curtains and Kyu Sakamoto on their travel record player.
“If you say so, Ana.”
--
“Ash, you alright? You look like you’re about to cry,” Sarah laughed awkwardly and put a hand on Sasha’s shoulder, bringing her back from her wedding night. The others started to notice the reddening of her eyes and the shaking of her hands.
She walked away from the 3 of them, vaguely registering someone's failed attempt at reaching out to grab her wrist.
She couldn’t cry here, not in front of people she didn’t know and wouldn’t understand. She picked up the pace, the dammed river behind her eyes becoming unbearable to keep holding up. Soon enough she was running up the green hill leading to Sam’s house with no intention of stopping until she was with the love of her life again. Running might get her there, it might get her back in her arms, swaying softly to Kyu Sakamoto back in Africa.
She ran across the street of the empty house, bursting through the green forest and didn’t stop. The stray tears escaping her eyes were pushed past her face from the wind, clouding her eyesight.
--
“What was that?” Sarah asking, concern evident on her face.
Bucky sighed in realization of what he did. He dropped his face into his hands groaning. “Shit.”
“What-”
He started walking up the dock to make up for lost time. He shouted back to his friends, “It’s her god damn wedding song.”
“Oh shit,” Sam whispered. He didn’t know much about Sasha or her history, but he remembers her and her deceased wife, how much they loved each other. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what force would be able to pull them apart. They were both super-soldiers, they lived longer than Bucky or Steve had, they had more than half a century of camaraderie. She was off the grid for 7 years after her death. “Oh shit.”
“I didn’t know Sasha’s married,” Sarah tried to lighten the mood.
“It’s a long story.”
--
When Sasha finally collapsed in the dense forest, the light shining through the trees dimmed and turned the colour of the orange clouds above. Little streaks of light escaped the canopy and left little spots of highlighted roots or fallen leaves. Grace would try to step in every streak of light, sign that Sasha should help her find all the new tree sprouts and clear the leaves from around it to give it a fighting chance at survival.
She kneeled in the dirt beside an old and tall tree, the fabric of her jeans digging into the soft earth and the moisture seeping across her knees. The first sob she let go made her feel so weak and helpless, like a wounded puppy trying to fight its way off the streets. After that, she only thought of Grace coming up behind and hugging the life out of her, trying to make her feel as safe as possible. But she’d never feel the bone-crushing safety again, only the hollow and emptiness of her evaporated shadow.
She cried and sobbed and spread her tears around her face well into the darkness of night with only the moon to watch in pity. The sleeves of her white crew neck were dried with snot and dirt and pieces of bark from the tree she was leaning on. It was only a dent, a chip off the sorrow she felt, and it didn’t make her feel any better. Nothing would make her feel better.
Her legs were numb under her body, prickling like hundreds of needles were puncturing her skin. Her hands were rested in the dirt, fiddling with dried chucks as she stared out an open spot in the canopy. It was a clear night, a couple stars blinked back at her tired and puffy red eyes.
She was in the middle of thinking that sinking into the old tree supporting her side would solve her problems when the sound of leaves crunching beneath footsteps came closer and closer and eventually stopped just off to the side of her.
“I’m sorry, Sasha,” Bucky’s words were genuine. She stayed silent, grimacing at the change of sound. “I wasn’t thinking.”
She turned her head to look at him, a frown etched in his face as he took in the sight of how small she looked, how the whites of her eyes were clearly bloodshot, even visibly in the silver light.
“I hope you never find someone that makes you feel this way,” her voice was beyond strained and wavered at every word.
“Sasha-”
“Her real name was Anastasia, like the Grand Duchess. After Hydra tried to burn the warehouse down, we assumed other names,” she looked back to the canopy. “It meant resurrection.”
“Look-”
“I’m not coming back, James. This country has her blood smeared on its soil and I’ll never be able to forgive it.”
Bucky was surprised, to say the least. “We need you here, Sasha.”
She turned a cold and raging glare at him. “We helped you enough. We spent decades helping you. I’m done.”
She had a hard time using her numb legs to get up and the tree's roots around her didn’t help either. Bucky held out a hand for her to take. A last helping move before she left. He knew he wouldn't be able to talk her out of it.
She gripped his flesh hand tightly and hoisted herself up, steadying herself and shaking the blood back into her limbs. She nodded at his darkened face.
“Goodbye, James Barnes.”
--
A/N: WAS THAT SAD OR WHAT?! I teared up a couple times writing this, ngl. If y'all find this interesting, let me know! I need the motivation to write the real fic with Grace and Sasha alive, Sasha isn't always deep in a depressive state with Grace dead.
ANYWAYS! Go drink some water, go have a snack, take a break, you deserve it so much, I'm so proud of you for getting this far!! ❤️❤️
(The nickname 'Graceless' came from my friend Shae and her friend on Insta 💕💕)
#mcu#tfatws#sam wilson#bucky barnes#sarah wilson#captain america#marvel#marvel universe#an excerpt from a fic i'll probably never write/finish#this isn't even in the time i want to start writing it#i want to start the fic with both Grace and Sasha alive and well and hopelessly in love#helping both sides and leaving notes with smiley faces at the end#i think it'd start in captain america: winter soldier and go from there#i also have a head cannon for them that Nick Fury invites them over for dinner once a week with his wife and 2 daughters#and another head cannon is that shuri and them are the greatest trio ever#I'VE BEEN IN THE FANDOM FOR 3 DAYS AND I HAVE A 7 PAGE OUTLINE OF THEIR CHARACTERS#BACKSTORIES#JOBS#RELATIONSHIPS WITH OTHER CHARACTERS#i have a problem#sambucky
9 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
blueberryillustrators
Books illustrators
shadowmark
ShadowMark
pobblebonked
Funny Robot Girl!!!
creampuff26
Cream_puff
strangefirecollective
KristyHarris2