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bbugyu · 3 years

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can i kiss you yet? + hong joshua

a mutual friend always made a great excuse to see you, but he definitely wanted more.

wc.2.4k | joshua x gn!reader, fluff, first snow au, foreigners in korea squad up, josh is a tutor u are an ambiguous worker everything is vague shhh, there are really no warning this is just fluff, oh drinking, but only the once, miss park chaeyoung please text me back

haha..... i am....... im not........... im in my joshie feels ok do not talk to me about it im embarrassed. thanks @babiemingoo for ruining my life by saying joshua would fall in love with me, and i quote, "no cap."

you spent a lot of time with joshua. by proxy, mostly, but you enjoyed his company nonetheless. your best friend called him her brother - they weren't related by blood, but by circumstance, having separately moved to korea at an old enough age to take care of themselves but young enough to still need the support of someone going through something similar. they were neighbors, and rosie had no way of stopping him from barging through her front door at all hours of the day. she always yelled at him to let her have some privacy. he insisted that if she was doing something that required privacy, then she should tell him beforehand. you always just laughed from your spot on the couch.

joshua would smile and put up a hand when he pretended to notice you for the first time, as though you weren't the express reason he had made an excuse to show up. "hi, y/n."

you would smile back and wiggle your fingers at him. "hi, josh."

this happened almost every time you came over to rosie's apartment, and while you never intended to see him, you would be lying if you said it wasn't a lovely benefit.

she rolled her eyes. "don't you have a job?"

"that's the great thing about being an online tutor," joshua said, making himself comfortable on the opposite end of the couch from you. "flexible scheduling."

you realized you had never asked him about his work. "what do you tutor?"

he looked at you, and you thought you saw a flash of nervousness in his eyes before he grinned. "english. and korean. and algebra. and calculus, sometimes."

"that's, like," you paused, your head knocking to one side. "impressive?"

"is it?" he laughed. "i just voice chat with high school students in sweats."

you shrugged. "i'm bad at math and i'm pretty sure i'd be bad at teaching, so anything like that is impressive to me."

he nodded, the corner of his mouth quirked upwards. it was hard for him to believe that you could be bad at anything, but he figured math was an okay thing to be lacking in. "noted."

rosie coughed loudly, making you both direct your attention to where she was leaning against the kitchen counter. "if you guys are done, i would love someone's help deciding what kind of pizza to get."

when you left hours later, rosie asked joshua why he even came over, trying to imply that he was taking too long to admit he liked you.

he pouted out his lips and shook his head. "no reason. i just heard you talking to someone and wanted to make sure you're not inviting over weirdos."

she gave him a sideways glare, knowing that if that were the truth, he would have come over when mingyu showed up the day before. or wonwoo last week. or any of her other friends that frequented her studio apartment. but conveniently, he only ever barged in when it was you, and she had a suspicion that it was because he had learned to recognize your laugh through the thin walls.

the first time you ever met joshua, it was at a bar. you and some work friends had agreed to get drinks together, and when your coworker-turned-bestie got a call from her neighbor saying she got a package, you nudged her.

"is he your oppa, like, just a guy, or like a boyfriend?"

she squinted at you, registering your language switch "ew! oh my god, he's just a guy. he's like a brother."

you heard an indignant noise over the line at her exclamation, and you giggled as you guided the straw in your cocktail to your lips.

"am i lying, joshua?" rosie said, rolling her eyes. "are you not like my brother?"

"joshua?" your eyebrows quirked up, realizing he had an english name, and only processing after the fact that he also understood her. "is he like us?"

"foreign?" rosie asked, looking at you. "yeah, he's from la."

you looked at her expectantly. "well, is joshua free tonight?"

she laughed at you, but redirected the question over the phone anyways, then promptly invited him out to join you at the bar, and he said he could be there in 45 minutes. he arrived with 6 minutes to spare (not that you were watching the clock, but you totally were), and rosie waved him down to join your table, quickly introducing him to the coworkers you had deemed fun enough to hang out with.

"and this is y/n," she said, grabbing your arm. she leaned over to joshua, pretending to whisper. "the other foreigner."

you laughed and shook his hand, saying it was nice to meet him. he smiled back, warmly, and returned the sentiment. he was korean, you realized, despite being from america, and he was incredibly handsome. like, absurdly so, in a way that felt impossible in reality, yet here he was, gaze flickering over your face as you brought your (new) drink to your lips, and the liquid almost caught in your throat when you saw an entire galaxy twinkling in his eyes. you blinked when he went to get a drink, thinking you must be drunker than you thought to have mistaken the reflection of the fairy lights that littered the bar as galaxies, but for some reason, your initial impression seemed to suit him more.

months later, you went to rosie's apartment just to drop off some food - you were teaching yourself how to make korean side dishes, and she volunteered to be your auxiliary food tester if you made too much, which, big surprise, you absolutely did. she made fun of your cooler bag and your big puffy jacket, saying you reminded her of the grandma down the hall, and you laughed heartily as you made your way to her kitchen.

she had an essay to write, so you didn't stick around. shortly after you announced your leave and exited to the hall, the next door opened.

"oh," joshua said, hand still gripping the handle of his front door as he made surprised eye contact with you. "you're leaving already?"

you pursed your lips to hide a smile, wrapping your scarf around your neck. "already?"

"you usually, um," he paused, his hand going to the back of his neck, the other pushing into the pocket of his jeans. "you're usually around for a few hours."

you giggled. "i was just dropping off some food, rosie has an essay to write."

he puffed out a cheek and nodded slowly as he let it deflate. "i guess i shouldn't bother her, then."

you watched him avoid your gaze, then peeked slyly past him into his apartment. you had never been, but it looked neat. neutral. comforting. it seemed like him.

the jig was up, joshua thought, studying your eyes briefly. you clearly knew he only ever barged into his neighbor's apartment because you were there. he had obviously just given it away, but maybe you had always known, and you had just let him think he was convincing when he said he had no idea you were over. but maybe he was okay with that, because you never complained. and maybe that meant you liked seeing him, too.

"are you busy?" he asked suddenly. "i don't mean to keep you, but-"

you shook your head quickly. "i don't have plans."

"uh," he turned to his apartment before looking back at you briefly. "let me grab a jacket, i'll walk you home."

you couldn't help but smile. "okay."

joshua made sure he was quick to get his winter coat and a scarf, but instinctively adjusted his bangs in a mirror and checked his breath. he silently scolded himself for making this out to be something that it wasn't - he was walking you home, not taking you out. but he hoped he would work up the nerve to ask before the end of the walk.

"ready?" you asked, pushing off the wall you were leaning against as you waited.

he smiled at you, silently hoping he was. "yeah, let's go. it's gonna start getting dark soon."

when the two of you exited the apartment building, hands shoved into pockets, joshua commented that it felt like it was gonna snow.

"i think the forecast said tomorrow," you mused, looking up at the overcast sky.

he stared at you as you walked beside him, your lips curved upward in a vague smile as you thought about how much you liked the snow, and when you looked over and caught his gaze, he redirected his eyes just a little too late, then laughed at his own behavior. "sorry, you looked really cute just then."

you couldn't help but smile, nuzzling down into your scarf to hide it. "as opposed to normally, when i don't."

"not what i said," he defended immediately. "i think you always look cute."

you giggled into your scarf, hoping he couldn't see how flustered you felt. "thank you. i think you always look cute, too."

you caught a small smile sneak onto his face as he looked down at his shoes. "thanks."

joshua had never once seemed shy to you. a little hesitant, maybe, when you had first met him, but he exuded confidence. you got the impression that he knew himself better than anyone, and he was happy to express himself genuinely around people that accepted him. he was a bit of a smooth talker, you thought. he had a way of saying exactly what people wanted to hear, whether it was true or not. but today, now, he seemed genuinely reserved. quieter. like he wasn't quite sure what to say to you as you walked side by side on the sidewalk, headed to your apartment.

"what kind of food did you bring to roseanne?" he asked, trying to fill the quiet.

"standard fare," you said, smiling at how he used her full name. "kimchi, seasoned beansprouts, sweet potatoes, fishcakes."

"oh, korean?" he asked, looking at you. "i didn't know you cooked like that."

your lip quirked into a smile at the reaction. "i'm practicing. gotta please a korean husband if i wanna get a permanent visa, y'know."

"right," he said, nodding at your joking tone. "a korean husband."

you blinked, eyes focusing on something in the air, then looked up. "oh my god, is it snowing?"

joshua tore his gaze from you, looking around at the flakes that were gently falling from the sky. "i told you it was gonna snow."

"but the forecast said tomorrow!" you laughed, pulling a hand out of your pocket to try to catch some flakes. "has it snowed yet since new year?"

his heart fluttered lightly as he watched you shove your hand back into your pocket. "no, not yet."

you looked over at him and giggled at how much snow had gathered on his dark hair. "oh, jeez, it's starting to come down." you reached out to him, brushing some flakes off his bangs, and he hoped you thought his ears were just red from the cold. "if we don't hurry, you're not gonna be able to walk home."

that wouldn't be the end of the world, joshua thought. maybe if the snow fell heavy enough, you would tell him to sleep on your couch instead of trekking home. maybe the two of you could chat, alone, just enjoying company until too late in the night. and maybe your heating would go out again, like you often complained about, and maybe the two of you could wind up under the same blanket as you got sleepier.

"do you know that belief?" he asked, glancing at you as you walked. "what koreans say about first snow?"

you looked over to him. "no," you said shortly, switching to korean. "what is it?"

he laughed, but continued in english. "they say that if you're with someone during the first snow of the year, you'll stay together for a long time."

you stopped in your tracks, and he only made it two steps in front of you before he turned, looking at you questioningly. "together?"

he gave a short affirmation, blinking and looking away as he shifted his stance. "yeah, like-" he paused. "supposedly, if you confess during the first snow, it's good luck. or something like that."

you stared at him, studying his eyes as he avoided your gaze, a tiny smile creeping across your face. "josh."

he looked at you, eyebrows quirked. "w'sup?"

you giggled. "are you talking about us right now?"

"oh, are you confessing to me?" he asked, eyes wide and making you laugh as he slowly closed the short distance between you. "confessing during the first snow, wow. you must really like me. y'know, i always kind of thought you had a crush on me."

you rolled your eyes. "yet it took you four months to mention it?"

his nose scrunched up as he grimaced apologetically. "i'm sorry for making you wait," he said, quietly and in korean, close enough that you felt his breath on your skin. you just shook your head at him.

"i made you wait, too."

he looked between your eyes, and you couldn't help but feel like the snow was melting around you from his warm you felt. "can i kiss you yet?"

you let out a breathy giggle, enjoying the way his eyes creased as he smiled at you. "of course you can."

this moment, joshua realized, was one that he had imagined a million times in his head. in a million different scenarios throughout the last four months, he had imagined how incredible it would be to feel your lips against his. and when he finally found himself there, his fingers brushing against your cheek as he pulled you into him, the first snow of the year falling around you, he realized he had imagined it all wrong. because despite thinking that you definitely had the most beautiful lips that he could ever press his to, he had not accounted for the fact that you were smiling, and he was too, and that made them the sweetest. the most fun. the most exciting.

and he hoped you would let him keep kissing you for a long time.

#im AJABWJBSJABSHAN this is HDHSHCBDNANJSBAJZ i feel so HCBSJXNSHDHDJBS #ok tags #caratwritersclub #joshua scenarios #joshua imagines #joshua fluff #joshua hong imagines #joshua hong scenarios #joshua hong fluff #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #josh #i wrote dis #the way a kink ship given to an asexual was enogh to make said asexual fall in love with someone #this is so sad alexa play baby don't stop #also alexa play lingerie by lizzo #at the same time #ok im gonna go lay down again ❣️

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stainandscribble · 3 years

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Flower, Falling In Love

Pairing: Wonwoo (Seventeen) x Reader

Genre: Wonwoo Cupid AU (sort of); Soulmate AU; Coffee Shop AU (brief); fluff; fantasy

Summary: Wonwoo is a love messenger, he answers to the god of love and he is destined, like all messengers, to never fall in love: or so it would seem. The god of love is unpredictable and does as he pleases. After centuries of helping people fall in love; Wonwoo is the one that needs assistance.

A/N: loosely inspired by Angel’s last mission: Love, based on the world in HONEY (EXO Lay fic) you don’t have to read it though, it is unrelated to this.

Word Count: 5390

Wonwoo was born the same way as all his brothers were, forged into existence the moment the sun painted the clouds various shades of pink and purple. As the dawn broke across the horizon, he had taken his first look at the sky across from Olympus. He was a messenger to the God of Love, Baekhyun.

The God of Love was cheerful, that was what Wonwoo noticed when he was born. The God of Love was smiling down at the newly awake messengers, his eyes shining. They were still pure and innocent then, still impressionable. He remembered that Baekhyun had told him he will live as his helping hand, aiding mortals down below them find love, helping him bestow this precious gift onto humanity.

And then he bestowed upon Wonwoo the greatest act of love a love messenger would ever receive: The God of Love gave him a name.

A name, Wonwoo had learnt was important. His brother recognised him by his name. Strangers would learn his name and cease to be strangers henceforth. A name made him who he was; Wonwoo who was Baekhyun’s love messenger, Wonwoo who was a brother.

He liked it when his brothers called his name. it made him feel important, useful. It made him warm. Wonwoo felt happy when they called his name cheerfully, the same way Baekhyun had the time he gave him his name, with a smile on his lips and a twinkle in his eye. Wonwoo thought that was love or at least the closest he was to ever feel it.

Love messengers had no knots in their white threads for lovers. Although they bestowed the gift of love onto humanity, they were fated to never experience it. Love was for the Gods and mortals. It was something unattainable to them, just beyond their fingertips. Humans and Gods fell in love so that their races could continue to exist. Human lives were short, and so for them to continue they had to love and have children. Despite their short lifespans, Wonwoo had always heard his elder brothers Jeonghan and Seungcheol talk with the Gods of Love and Lightening, about how humans took time to love.

One day, as he rested on Olympus as a young messenger, Wonwoo had been so bold as to ask the God of Lightening how he knew, and he had simply smiled at him, as if Wonwoo was a child, and lay a heavy warm hand over his shoulder, looking up at the tall messenger.

“Humans have short lives, and so they pick their time well and love only those they deem deserving of love.”

“They try anyway.” Jeonghan had supplied, his bright mischievous smile making the God of Thunder shake his head.

“Gods’ love easily because they don’t have to think too much about the passing of time and growing old. That is why they take long to learn. They will fall in love quickly because the mistake is only a short moment on an infinite number of moments. They make the same mistakes and the same bad decisions over and over because their time is limitless, and they can afford to waste it.” Seungcheol had explained to the younger messengers, all staring intently between the God of Lightning, and their older brother.

“Gods are born like humans are. They need love to pass on life too. They are not born in the clouds the same we are. Dawn does not kiss life into them like it does to us.” Joshua said. His voice was soft and light, matching his expression as he gazed over at his younger brothers. His brown eyes held a tenderness that had far surpassed love. Sometimes Wonwoo thought that if Philia, the affectionate love, could choose a shape it would look like Joshua.

“Humans have a good saying; the higher you are the lonelier you are. With power comes sacrifice and loneliness. Gods’ realms are often separated, the way this mountain is far from Junmyeon’s sea.” The God of Lightening Jongdae gestured over to the peak of Mount Olympus, to below, were behind the white tuft of clouds, the azure sea beat against the rocks. “For sacrifice and for balance, we are given love.”

That was the conversation that shaped Wonwoo’s idea of love. It was that lecture, given by the God who loved and married a mortal, that turned into one of the most important conversations of his existence. He was less impressionable afterwards.

-----------

That was over four thousand years ago, and still, despite never feeling Eros, he felt lucky. He was not lonely the way the Gods were, and he did not have a short life the way mortal humans did. For four thousand years, Wonwoo had worked and been content, diligently fulfilling his duties and watching as couples fell in love. Sometimes he had the displeasure, but an honour nonetheless, to watch as the same people he helped fate bring together had said their goodbyes. Millenia ago it had been death that forced them apart. More recently it had been finances and not enough time.

That was why he was on earth today, sitting in an auspicious café, sipping on an iced caramel macchiato. He had taken the last empty table, spread his things out to make sure no one else could sit with him, and watched as his charges smiled at each other in greeting as one offered an empty chair at their table to the other.

Wonwoo smiled to himself, his pink lips spreading into a joyful smile that showed all his teeth and turned his eyes into crescents. He had the satisfaction of watching as they met, his personal coffee show au unfolding in real life.

The coffee shop was packed, the air was warm and stuffy, and undoubtedly a welcome relief from the chill of winter lingering just outside the brick walls. Most of the tables were round, made of brown wood standing on black metal legs, the buzz of chatter and the mechanical humming of the coffee machines completed the ambience, and Wonwoo thought it would be a rather romantic place to meet the person destined for you.

The two humans were both college students, both tired and trying their best to keep up with assignments. They were studying the same subject, so it wasn’t their first meeting, but it was the push in the right direction. Wonwoo had been that push. That was his job, and he had sipped on his coffee and grinned down on his chocolate brownie in satisfaction at completing his last assignment this round. When he was done, he could return home to mythical Cyprus, plating beside Olympus suspended in the clouds. His brothers had already decided to drink nectar when they all came back for a well-deserved break.

That was too easy though. Too simple. A plan too well formulated and too close to execution, and fate had other ideas. Rather, the God of Love had other ideas, and he had made sure Wonwoo would not leave the coffee shop satisfied and in high spirits.

“Hi, is this seat taken?” A melodic voice broke through Wonwoo’s daydreams, bringing him back to the mortal realm. In front of him, a young woman looked down at him, and at the spare chair right she was now resting her hands against. At first glance, Wonwoo wondered if you were a muse to the God of the Sun, but you weren’t. Wonwoo studied your features, and he found none of the essences of immortal beings in them; and he finally heard your heart, previously drowned out by the sounds around him. Your heart was beating, a steady relaxed rhythm proving your mortality. He wondered if you had already found Your soulmate, and if not, who would be the one to help you find them. Would it be one of his brothers, or would it be a messenger he didn’t know? Could it be him?

“No.” Wonwoo told you, gesturing for You to leave your things in the space right in front of him before you went to order your drink.

“Thanks.” You muttered once you came back, sending him a smile in gratitude. Your drink was steaming, the mug holding the hot chocolate was warm against your fingers.

Wonwoo watched you over his cup, glancing at you from time to time to see what you were doing. He watched you warm yourself up, undoubtedly cold from the weather outside. Whilst you had gone to get your drink, snow started falling from the sky, white flakes blew in the wind, settling against the chilled earth like a blanket. Wonwoo thought you were pretty. Your eyes were twinkling, and you liked your lips after a sip of the heavenly hot liquid. You were driving the love messenger insane, his heart began to beat irregularly, startling him when he could hear the blood rush in his ears when you caught him looking. Wonwoo’s cheeks turned rosy, and the room began to feel far too hot for December. Even when you were both inside.

Worried about his rising temperature, and his mind replaying the small smile you sent his way, he decided he needed to make a break for it. There was no need to remain on Earth any longer, and he should be getting back home, in the realm of the God of Love floating beside Olympus.

“I have to go. Bye!” Wonwoo excused himself, walking out as fast as he could, completely forgetting his scarf, still hanging on the back of his chair.

You picked it up, hoping to find him outside the coffee shop, but when the cold air hit your skin, and the snowflakes began to fall against your cheeks, you noticed the tall man was gone.

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

Unbeknownst to you, Wonwoo stood in the back alley behind the packed coffee shop, hiding from mortal eyes as his heart beat against the rungs of his ribs, trying to break free of the pericardium and the bones keeping it away from you.

He had never felt like this before. His heart fluttered watching the happiness he brought mortals, and his feelings soared when he watched his brothers mess around. He had never felt like this towards a human. His hands were sweating, and he thought that even the falling snow could not cool down his scorching skin.

“Why is my heart beating so fast?” He muttered to himself, threading his fingers through his hair, frantically trying to gather his thoughts.

“And my hands are sweating.” Wonwoo spoke, looking around and wiping his hands on his dark jeans. Thankfully, there was no one around to witness his mental breakdown in the alley. Under all the confusion, and a strange excitement that was now filling Wonwoo’s body, there was an important question that needed answering. It was that very question that made his hands tremble, and his heart pick up pace.

“She is human. Why do I react like this because of a human?”

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Up above the coffee shop, beyond the vastness of the sky, The God of Water, Junmyeon, and The God of Love, Baekhyun, watched the messenger freak out. They observed the first instance of Eros ever felt by one of Baekhyun’s messengers, watching through the looking glass placed on the marble table in the pavilion. Their imposing silhouettes were still as Junmyeon awaited Baekhyun’s explanation.

The other Gods sat around the table, their dark eyes staring intently at Wonwoo’s image, the messenger was dressed in warm clothes, snow falling around him and cold wind nipping at his cheeks, a stark contrast to the warm breeze and the sun shining down on Olympus.

“What have you done to that poor love messenger?” Junmyeon asked, his deep voice rolled over them like waves, but there was a playful lilt in it, and his eyes were laughing as they watched the poor love messenger fall in love for the first time.

“I have given him the greatest gift, if only he would stop being so frightened.” Baekhyun muttered, tapping his fingernails on the marble table, watching as Wonwoo ran his hands through his hair and muttered to himself like a crazy person.

“How could he not be, his kind had never experienced something like that before.” Jongin reasoned, his tender heart soared at the innocent fear in Wonwoo’s eyes as his feelings wreaked havoc on his mind.

“Can love messengers die of a heart attack?” Kyungsoo laughed, his dark, earth-coloured eyes watched as Wonwoo grabbed his chest theatrically, feeling his irregular heartbeat.

“The fates have agreed?” Junmyeon looked over from the looking glass to his brother, the one he thought must be responsible for this.

“Of course. I chose him myself.” Baekhyun spoke, full of pride as he puffed his chest out and looked over to his elder with a mixture of mischief and hope.

The God of Love had chosen him himself. The moment Baekhyun looked down at the pink clouds, waiting for a new cohort of love messengers to be born in the light of dawn, he knew that it would be one of them. He was getting ready to pick out a messenger, whose lifeline he would eventually mess up, tying lover knots into their fate. No one of these beings, ones he affectionately called his children, had ever felt Eros. No one them in the centuries that they have been around, had ever fallen in love, despite bestowing this gift onto humans. They lived for love, and because of it, and yet they didn’t even know what they were living for. Baekhyun was determined to change that. Starting with Wonwoo, his children would learn what love is.

When the pink hue of dawn passed, and he had called out their names, he had realised he had almost forgotten about one messenger. Wonwoo, still nameless then, watched the God of Love with innocent fascination, eyes filled with Storge, affectionate love, as he watched the God of love smile down at him, oblivious to his intentions, and that was when Baekhyun had decided; it had to be him, who he had almost forgotten.

“Wonwoo.” Baekhyun had called him, and his fate was set.

---------

Wonwoo sat with his brothers around a wooden table, the warm Cyprus winds kissing their cheeks, a pleasant contrast to the harsh winter on Earth. Here, the sun shone down on them, and Wonwoo had swapped out the warm coat for summer clothes and a loose-fitting shirt. From crystal cups his brother sipped on golden nectar, but Wonwoo could not stomach his drink. His cup sat full on the table as he felt his stomach churn and flip. It was an unfamiliar feeling. Love messengers never got sick. The more people they helped find their soulmates, the better they felt, and their work was never-ending. Mortals and Gods kept them busy and kept them in high spirits.

“Jeonghan, I think I’m sick.” Wonwoo muttered when his heart began beating a little faster and he could feel his cheeks heating up a little more when his mind made him see the girl from the café again. He put his head in his hands.

“We don’t get sick.” Jeonghan laughed as he sipped on cool nectar. Beside him, Seungcheol looked over at the younger messenger and furrowed his brows.

“Something is wrong with me.” Wonwoo pressed, trying to avoid the curious gazes of his brothers.

“I saw this girl at the café whilst on duty, and she was mortal, but she was pretty.” He admitted, thinking about how you were definitely the prettiest mortal he ever laid eyes on, and about how he absolutely shouldn’t under any circumstances consider you attractive. Heck, he shouldn’t even know what attraction feels like. There were no lover knots in his thread of life, and there should be no feelings associated with Eros bouncing about his heart.

“When I saw her, my heart started beating in my chest as if it was skipping a beat, and my hands grew sweaty when she accidentally brushed her hand against mine.” He explained, his hands miming the way his heart was beating before he dramatically rubbed his hands together.

“Impossible.” Jeonghan whispered, his goblet abandoned on the table.

“What is impossible?” Mingyu asked, his eyes widened when he saw the shock on the faces of everyone else. He looked expectantly over to Wonwoo, who looked like he was about to faint.

“It can’t be real, can it?” Joshua asked, and before Mingyu could ask again about what was happening Seungkwan beat him to it, answering Joshua’s question instead.

“We don’t do that.” He shook his head, a broken chuckle escaped him as he sipped on his drink, trying to avoid Mingyu’s wondering stare.

“I have never in my six thousand years heard about this happening.” Seungcheol announced, looking over at the younger love messenger as he looked absolutely miserable, his face flushed and his eyes glassy as if he had a mortal fever. When they stopped to listen, they could hear his heart, fast and irregular. The same as a mortal heart in the throes of infatuation.

“Wonwoo, how are you feeling right now?” Seungkwan stood up from his chair to press a hand against Wonwoo’s forehead, checking if his brother was really burning up. To his surprise, he was, and the warmth that emanated from him was a pleasant feeling. Wonwoo was projecting, and for a moment Seungkwan thought his heart might also skip a beat. He retracted his hand and looked down onto his brother.

“Fine.” Wonwoo answered, although his cheeks were still pink, but the thought of you was now gone from his mind, and instead, fear had taken its place.

“Can he be infatuated with a mortal?” Mingyu asked, looking over at Seungcheol for answers. The older ran a hand through his black hair and sighed.

“It’s fate. You can’t fight fate.” His words had a finality to them that made them all sit back into their seats. It was the kind of finality that took over all of them, not just Wonwoo, who watched on with wide eyes, and despite the warmth of Cyprus’ air, the hairs on the back of his neck rose.

“You met her again, didn’t you?” Joshua asked, his voice soft as he watched his brother struggle with the new information.

“After I ran out, I came back the next day, just to make sure.” Wonwoo nodded.

“We bumped hands accidentally.” He added afterwards, but didn’t know if it was important, or rather why it was relevant,

“She invited me out for ice cream.” Wonwoo told them, putting his hands on the table and playing with his cup as a distraction.

“You said no, right.” Joshua prodded, his eyes soft but unsure, and when Wonwoo stayed silent, he turned to Seungcheol, who watched everything helplessly.

“You said yes?” Jeonghan cackled, laughing hysterically at how hopeful and happy his brother seemed at the prospect of meeting the mortal again.

“We are meeting on Monday.”

“Good luck.” Mingyu told him, and the sincerity in his voice gave Wonwoo the courage to smile at him.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. It was fate after all, and you can’t fight fate. They all knew that.

-------

The ice cream shop was surprisingly full for the middle of winter. The walls were lined with wood painted a cream colour and the tables were also cream with pastel-coloured chairs. It was a fun little shop, and Wonwoo waited outside excitedly for your arrival. He had come earlier, just to make sure he was at the right place, and because he had a bad habit of being late, and he figured being late on the very first date of your immortal existence would not bode well. The snow had stopped falling, but the world remained covered under a soft pillow of pearly whiteness. Everything looked softer in the snow, and Wonwoo didn’t mind the cold.

“Hi Wonwoo.” He turned around when he heard you call his name, watching as you waved at him from the edge of the sidewalk.

“Hello Y/N.” He answered, smiling at you, his dark eyes carefully trailing over your face, wondering if you were as cold as he was.

“Let’s go?” You asked, gesturing towards the entrance to the gelateria.

“Sure.” He nodded and followed behind you into the warm ice cream shop. You sat down at a table near the window, your eyes scanning the tall man as he sat down and took off his black jacket and scarf. His cheeks and nose had turned red in the cold, and you wondered if he waited outside for long. He was already waiting when you spotted him as you were crossing the street. Once you were seated, you looked through the menu, deciding to share a sundae between you.

“How about this one?” Wonwoo asked, pointing to a sundae slathered in toffee sauce.

“Sweet nectar?” You asked, and he nodded, a smile appearing on his lips as you watched his eyes light up. You could feel your heart skip a beat when he caught your eyes with his dark coffee ones.

If only you knew the irony of his choice, you would have undoubtedly laughed, a messenger from Olympus who wanted nectar. Wonwoo had found that almost ridiculous.

For the remainder of your date, you sat at your table, walking about your favourite films and books. Turned out Wonwoo was a big fan of romance films, and he had mentioned that he liked Casablanca.

“So you like black and white cinema?” You asked, smiling as you leaned your hand against your open palm.

“You could say that.” He chuckled, eyes drifting from you onto the empty ice cream cup.

“What’s your favourite?” Wonwoo asked in return, feeling his breath hitch in his throat when you caught his eyes. Their colour mesmerized him, and for a moment he thought he was looking into a mirror, seeing the white thread of his life tie in a knot as he watched. The depth of your gaze was immeasurable, and he found himself drowning in the vastness.

“Cinema Paradiso.” You replied without breaking his gaze.

“So you like foreign cinema?” He asked, a teasing lilt in his voice. The smile that broke through sent your own heart into a frenzy, and you felt yourself being pulled closer like a puppet on a string. Closer to him.

“You could say that.” You spoke, and the softness of your voice felt pleasant against Wonwoo’s ears. It was a sweet sound. Sweeter than the melodies played on any harp or lyre by the muses of the God of the Sun.

For the remainder of the evening, you sat in the gelateria, talking about your passions and your hopes.

“Tonight was nice.” You told Wonwoo once you left the building. The white snow had resumed its descent onto the frozen earth and had added layers onto the white blanket covering the world. It acted as a means to silence all sound but the sound of your beating heart and the rich resonance of Wonwoo’s voice.

“It was.”

“Would you like to go out again sometime?” He asked, turning to look you in the eyes when he offered.

“Let’s watch a film.” You agreed, happy when he took a small step towards you. In the crisp winter air, his warmth radiated like a heater, protecting you from the nipping wind.

“They are screening Notting Hill at the Contemporary Arts theatre.” Wonwoo told you his cheeks dusting a deeper shade of red.

“I’ll text you the time. Is that okay?” He asked, looking over unsure if he was being too forward. He had never spent this long with a mortal, much less with a mortal he knew he would inevitably fall in love with. He wondered if this was what all his charges felt when he helped them bump into each other or helped them make the first move. Were they also this warm? Did their hearts beat a new life and their breaths hitched in their throats with the feelings coursing through their veins? If that was the case, Wonwoo thought that infatuation was a very pleasant stage of mortal relationships.

“Of Course.” You told him, and just as you were about to bid your farewells he stopped you. His hand landed in your arm, and before you could react he had pressed a quick kiss to your cheek.

His lips were warm against your cold skin, and the tingling sensation they left behind was enough to make our heart skip a beat.

“Goodnight.” He murmured, letting go of your arm, allowing you to walk home.

----

The messengers had picked a small coffee shop as their hangout in the mortal world. It was warm and served the best hot chocolate they had ever tasted, whipped cream and all. It was also frequented by tender writers and happy couples. Currently, in the throes of winter, it had been decorated with white lights and smelled like cinnamon, most likely because of all the gingerbread and spiced cakes they baked. Jeonghan made Wonwoo and a few other’s meet here before he left for Olympus later in the evening. They sat at a round wooden table sipping on hot coffee and trying to keep themselves awake.

“You are meeting her again?” Jeonghan asked, poking Wonwoo on the side. The elder had recently dyed his hair platinum blonde, and Wonwoo was truly considering also changing something. He just wasn’t quite sure what he wanted to change. He felt like he was a different being to the one he was just a few weeks ago. He knew what the blossoming of love felt like now, and despite all worried of what his brothers might think of his predicament, they had been supportive.

“I have a date in half an hour.” Wonwoo answered, sipping on his hot americano.

“I can’t believe it.” Mingyu muttered under his breath. He still found the idea that the God of Love allowed one of his messengers, the ones doing his dirty work, to experience the very same love they brought to the world. The possibility that Wonwoo could love a mortal and be happy meant that the rest of them wondered whether they would also get to experience Eros within their lifetimes. It was not new knowledge that the God of Love Baekhyun had wanted his footmen to have love, it was just new that the fates let him meddle with their life lines.

“It takes almost half an hour to get to the Contemporary Arts Theatre, you better get on the bus now.” Seungcheol told him, poking the watch in his wrist to remind Wonwoo of the time. He didn’t need to be told twice.

“See you at home!” He waved at them half-heartedly before running out to catch the next bus.

-------

True to Seungcheol’s words he had barely made it on time. The building of the Contemporary Arts Theatre was low, with only two screen rooms and a small gallery for student pieces. There had been only four other people at the screening of Notting Hill, and Wonwoo was thankful. He felt much more at ease with less prying eyes.

In the dark room, with the only light coming from the projector behind you, it felt right. Wonwoo had been timid at first, making sure you were comfortable, being careful not to be too forward. You could never have imagined his relief when he felt your head press against his shoulder halfway through the film. The rest of the film you had stayed like that, with your head on his shoulder, and with his fingers threading through yours on the armrest, and Wonwoo swore he had never been more comfortable, not even in the push beds on Mount Olympus.

-------

“Tonight was lovely.”You told Wonwoo as you were leavening. Your hands were still intertwined, and it didn’t look like Wonwoo had any intention of letting go anytime soon. Not that you were complaining. It was a nice feeling, being held, and you enjoyed the way your relationship was progressing. Nothing seemed rushed, and you were happy with that.

“I’m glad you liked it.” Wonwoo answered, beaming as he looked at you from the corner of his eyes as you walked through the streets.

“I was just wondering,” You thought out loud, and Wonwoo halted in his tracks, turning to face you with serious eyes. The hints of playfulness now gone from the deep brown orbs.

“Wonwoo, what is that white string?” You asked, not sure if you were going crazy or not, but you had been seeing the white thread follow you since you met him, and whenever you asked your friends, they had thought you were either pulling their leg or going insane.

“What white string?” He asked, panic taking over. He had never thought you would ask him that. White string was the fibre of his life line, the fibre that held his fate in chronological order. Mortals couldn’t see immortal strings.

“This one.” You unlaced your fingers, pointing to the pearly white thread that wrapped around your ring finger like a wedding band.

“You can see it?” He asked in disbelief, and although he was panicking inside, you had let out a relieved breath. You nodded wiggling your fingers and watching the pearly sheen of the thread glisten in the streetlight.

“It’s been following me around since I met you.”

“That’s,” Wonwoo coughed, his voice cracking with the shock of your revelation.

“That is fate. My fate, that I share with you.” He answered when he regained the ability to breathe and think coherently.

“What?” You asked, not quite understanding what he was saying.

“We are soulmates.” He explained, watching as your eyes filled with shock. It wasn’t every day that someone told you you were soulmates, much less the man who could also see the crazy invisible threads wrap around your finger.

“How could you possibly know that?” You pressed for answers.

“I know because I’ve been watching those strings for a very long time. I’m the one who helps tie them together.” He explained, holding your hand to pull at the life line that wrapped around your finger. His life line, his fate. His love.

“What?”

“I’m a love messenger. I help people fall in love.” He answered, looking into your eyes, and the weight of his confession settled over you, wrapping around your heart. To prove his point, he held out his hand, and sure enough, you saw a scarlet string wrap around his finger and shoot straight to your heart.

“Like cupid?” You pondered, and he laughed. He laughed at the absurdity of the situation, and at the fact that you had taken all his confessions in stride rather than running away. Maybe you were both mad.

“You could say that.” Wonwoo nodded, and the wind picked up speed, sending snowflakes spinning all around the two of you, shielding you from the prying eyes of the world outside.

“I’m your soulmate?” You asked again, and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you towards his warm frame.

“Scared?” He whispered, his warm breath fanning the shell of your ear.

“No.” You answered, smiling when neither of you pulled away. Slowly, as if to not frighten you, he lowered his head, and before you knew it, his lips were on yours, moving gently against your own. His lips felt hot and searing against the cold winter, and he tasted like cotton candy. When you had finally broken away from the kiss to catch your breath your eyes strayed to the ground, and you saw Wonwoo’s shadow, his tall frame elongated on the pavement, but that was not what drew your attention. Sprouting from the back of his shadow, a pair of wings, like those of an angel, sprouted and fluttered against the wind.

“I’m terrified.” You whispered, and Wonwoo couldn’t help the laugh that broke from his throat, cacophonous and filled with joy as you teased him.

In the night, under the orange glow of streetlamps, he kissed you until you were breathless, and you decided you would love him, not yet, but in the future. Love was a flower, and it had sprouted from amongst the snow, the first signs of green peeking through the crisp whiteness.

190 notes · View notes

the-bau-quinjet · 3 years

Text

Every Little Thing.

Part 3!! You can find all the info about why this is such a mess in Part 1 and read Part 2 here! This is the last part sort of. I’m planning on an epilogue of sorts though!

Summary: Reader is a famous singer with a murderous stalker. Spencer has to go undercover to protect her.

warnings: mentions of murder, anxious reader, stalker

Word Count: 8681

The next time you open your eyes, the first thing you see is the shadow of an unknown person looming over you. Your instincts are screaming danger and without thinking about it, you start fighting your way out of their hands. They are trying to restrain you, so you fight back harder. You can’t stop hearing the lamp crashing on your head. It’s reminding you over and over of the danger you are in. Your self-defense training kicks in when the person wraps an arm across our chest. Afterwards, you think it should have occurred to you that the person wasn’t really fighting back so much as trying to calm you down, but you’ll blame your poor observational skills on adrenaline. It just all happened so fast.

You form your hands into “large claws” as the instructor called them in class, and swiftly shove them between your body and the arm of the attacker. Gripping the arm, you throw your weight diagonally forward, curling your body in toward your left knee. You end in a one legged kneel, having thrown the person over your shoulder. The thud they made upon hitting the floor was highly satisfying, until you looked down and recognized the face.

Derek Morgan was staring at you from his new found position on the floor, you kneeling over him with a slightly crazed look in your eye. You would start apologizing, but you are so stunned you don’t move until Morgan gets up and guides you back to the couch.

Apparently the team had been trying to reach you or Reid for a while. Neither of you answered, for reasons that were obvious now, so the team rushed over to check on you. Nobody mentions how you just threw Derek over your body as if he were a ragdoll. It doesn’t seem like the time to be joking around.

You tell them everything you can remember, starting with everything you told Spencer about the man you recognized and ending with the sound of the lamp cracking over your head. You’re surprised you didn’t cry through the whole story. Maybe you’re out of tears, physically unable to produce any more because your tear ducts dried up. If Spencer were here he’d tell you some fact about how your tear ducts never really dry out, your body just becomes dehydrated and water is diverted to more essential tasks.

At the thought of Spencer, a few tears do spring to your eyes. “Why would he take him? I was right here! He could’ve just taken me and been done with it. Oh, god. I was right there and I couldn’t stop him. No, no, no no no nonono.” You can feel all the signs of panic setting in, but you don’t have the power to stop them on your own. The team is trying to help you. They are, but you don’t hear them. You’re too worried about what is currently happening to Spencer.

It feels like time has slowed down. It’s like you’re swimming through syrup, desperately trying to stay above the surface, but the liquid is heavy and it’s sticky and it’s pulling you down. You hear what people are saying to you, but the words don’t make sense in your brain. They might as well be talking to a toddler, because all you can do is babble incoherently and point at the pieces of lamp on the ground.

You are relieving the same two scenes over and over. The look on his face when you made eye contact in the park. Then the sound of the lamp hitting your skull in the dark. The look on his face. The sound of the lamp. The look. The sound. His face. The lamp. It’s repeating in a never ending cycle. Your brain is moving so fast, you’re combining the two experiences. Logically, you know it was way too dark to see him holding the lamp, but you can see it clear as day in your head.

He’s walking across the room. He stops to pick up the lamp. He’s got both hands wrapped around it, as if he needed all the force he could possible create. HI lifts it above his head, and crash- wait. He’s holding the lamp like a mic stand. He’s holding the lamp like a mic stand!

“The lamp!” Your exclamation is so loud, Hotch looks as if he could’ve been surprised.

“He hit you with the lamp. We know.” Morgan’s voice is soothing, but your brain is moving through everything too fast to listen. You must look certifiably insane.

“No, the way he held the lamp.” Your brain is moving too fast for the words coming out of your mouth to catch up.

“You said it was too dark to see anything. How do you know how he held the lamp?” JJ looks confused more than anything at your behavior.

“I don’t. I mean, I do. I don’t know.” You’re being pulled back to the couch again. It’s as if the syrup has you in a bubble. You’re moving at a different frequency than the rest of them. You’re in a daze, not speaking as clearly as you are thinking.

“Y/N.” Hotch says your name with such a commanding presence, you’re focus is returned to the team. They’re staring at you with various expressions. Rossi looks so concerned you can’t help but think of the song you started for him. He really is the parental type. The rest of the team wear expressions that perfectly balance confusion, concern, and worry. Except for Hotch. He looks as stoic as ever, but there is a glint in his eye that seems to indicate he’s worried. “What about the lamp?”

“You’re right. I didn’t see the lamp in his hands. It was too dark.” This clears the confusion, but the concern and worry haven’t left their faces. “I can picture it though. And in my head, he was holding the lamp like I would hold a mic stand if I was trying to adjust the height.” You mime the grip in front of you. “That’s a weird fucking way to hold a lamp. So, why would I picture that?” They give you sympathetic looks, but nobody has an answer for you.

You’ve risen from the couch to pace back and forth across the room. The team starts speculating where the unsub would’ve taken Spencer, but you’re not listening. You are so sure there’s a reason you picture the lamp like that. You aren’t paying attention to them, and they aren’t paying attention to you. At least, that’s what you thought. You’re practically muttering to yourself when you figure it out. “I’ve seen him adjust a mic stand.” Hotch must have ears like an elephant because his head instantly swivels in your direction. You make the briefest of eye contact, a small smile forming on your face as you dart back toward the team.

“You’ve seen him before yesterday?” Hotch asks, cutting off the conversation currently going on between the agents. The group turns toward you, just realizing you’re no longer walking in circles talking to yourself.

“Yes. Yes, I’ve seen him adjust a mic stand. That must be why I pictured it like that in my head. The lamp I mean.” Hotch gives you a gentle nudge, encouraging you to reach a conclusion. “He works on the crew. His first show was the Louisville show.” Morgan already has Garcia on the phone, narrowing down the names for newer hires only.

“That’s still 42 names.” You can hear her nerves through the phone, and you’ve only met her once.

“Right, we hire a lot of new people for the US leg of the tour. It’s usually the biggest part.” You try to remember anything else about this man, wishing you had Spencer’s memory.

“Y/N, what else can you remember about him?” JJ’s words are gentle, but the look in her eyes is anything but. It is her best friend that’s missing.

“I don’t know. He’s never talked to me. I tried to introduce myself once and he just awkwardly ran away. The other crew guys he was working with, though they said something though.” You start tapping the side of your head, trying to recall the memory from nearly a month ago. “They said he’s been like that since he started. A little shy, I mean. They thought he was star struck.” You know they said something else, but it feels like you’re trying to catch individual grains of sand. You can just barely see them before they land in the water, fading away. “His name! One of them said his name. Jake or John or something with a J.”

“Three names.” The hope was evident in the way Garcia said the two simple words.

“What are they? I know they said his last name too, it’s just harder to remember because I didn’t talk to him personally.”

“Jacob Hawthorne-“

“No, it’s not him. He works in lighting, great guy. Cute kids.”

“Jordan Crawford”

“No, he’s a set designer. I talk to him all the time about switching things up between shows.”

“Last one, Joshua Gr-“

“Graves! Josh Graves That’s the name. That’s him!”

“Y/N, stay here. Agent Anderson will make sure you’re safe.” You can still hear his commanding voice as he leaves the room with the rest of the team. “Garcia, look for addresses where he-” The door swings shut, cutting you off from the rest of the information.

You gave Agent Anderson a small wave, asking if he wanted coffee or tea. You were still trying to be a good host, even if the room was a crime scene.

Crime scene. Suddenly, the idea of staying in this room any longer made you feel physically ill. You threw on a pair of sweatpants and a baseball hat, grabbing your keys as you headed for the door. Before Agent Anderson, or Grant as he introduced himself, could speak a word of protest, you had the door open.

“I can’t be in that room anymore. We can go wherever you want, I just can’t stay there.” He nodded in understanding, but still looked nervous at the idea of ignoring Hotch’s order to stay put.

The elevator doors opened to a mostly deserted lobby. You instantly walk over to the small café tucked into the corner. The barista recognizes you immediately, reaching for a bag as if you had already ordered.

“Ms. L/N, a man ordered this for you earlier. He said to give it to you as soon possible, but I didn’t want to wake you up since it’s still so early.” She has a sweet smile on her face, one you try to return but fail miserably.

“Thank you.” You’re far too stressed to worry about who ordered you a pastry before 5:45 in the morning on a day you were definitely not planning on being up this early. Agent Anderson, though? He was suspicious.

As you sat down in the arm chairs just outside of the shop, he politely asked for the bag.

“Why?” You said it with genuine confusion, but apparently he wasn’t actually asking. He had the bag open and the contents dumped onto the table in a matter of seconds. A blueberry muffin, you’re favorite, and a napkin topple onto the surface of the table in front of you.

“Are FBI agents trained to waste perfectly good muffins?” It’s hard to hide the slight mirth in your voice as you stare at the muffin that rolled of the table and onto the floor. Grant must not have heard you, or maybe he just chose to ignore you. He was still looking at the napkin. He took a picture on his phone before finally returning his attention to you. Of course, now your attention was trained on the napkin. It was your turn to move quickly, sliding it over to you and holding it out to prevent him from taking it back. The message on it was written in sloppy, rushed handwriting, but it was still legible.

“You belong with me. Not him.”

“His story is bound to have dust on every page when I’m done with him.”

“The slope was treacherous, the path reckless.”

“Do you think there’s enough blank space for him?”

You aren’t proud of the first thought that popped into your head. It was true, but you still would’ve liked to think your first thought would somehow tell you where Spencer was. Or at least be about Spencer, but no.

So rude of him to use my own lyrics for this.

You moved passed it quickly though, ignoring the fear you felt at seeing an unreleased lyric in front of you. There must be some sort of clue in the note. Why would he leave it for me if he doesn’t want me to find him? Grant managed to snatch the napkin out of your hand, but you had already read it. The damage was done.

“Y/N. You cannot leave this hotel. The team will find him. They know what they’re doing.” His words were a warning. One you intended to ignore.

“Fine. I’m going to get another muffin.” You tried to sound normal, but that’s probably what gave you away. Nobody would sound normal in this scenario. It didn’t matter if he figured out your plan though. You had a distraction for him. You waved at the barista as you walked into the shop.

“Hi, can I get another muffin? Accidentally dropped mine, whoops!” You smiled at her in a conspiratorial kind of way before leaning closer. “By the way, my friend over there” you nodded toward the agent who hadn’t taken his eyes off you as you walked away, “he thinks you’re cute. You should go talk to him!” Before you knew it, she was out from behind the counter, waving to her colleague to get you a muffin. She stood right in front of Grant, twirling her hair, but more importantly blocking his view of you.

You didn’t wait for the muffin. You slipped out the side door that lead straight to the main street, repeating the clues in your head. Dust. Treacherous. Blank Space.

Somewhere dirty, dangerous, and empty?

Ideas are flying through your head, but they don’t make any sense. The clues aren’t specific enough to tell you everything. It has to be somewhere you’ve been. Realization hits you as if a piano just fell out of the sky.

The arena. There was a staircase and some back rooms that were closed for construction. Dust, check. Unsafe conditions, check. Empty rooms, check. That has to be it.

You hail a cab, texting Hotch once you are on route to your destination. You know he’s going to tell you to stay put, but you want to make sure he knows where to go.

“The arena. They were doing construction.” You put your phone on airplane mode before returning it to your bag.

You expect to arrive at the arena to see it surrounded by black SUVs and police cars, but everything is eerily quiet. You must have beaten them there somehow. You pay your driver before walking up to the main doors. It seems like the best plan of action is to get inside and then find the construction zone. Weirdly enough, the front door is unlocked.

The sound of your shoes hitting the floor echoes in your mind as you wander through the building. It should be a fairly straightforward path, but you’re all turned around. Everything feels different. It’s no longer the nervous butterflies you get right before you perform. The syrup is coming back, only this time it’s pulling you in every direction except for the one you want to go in. You’re fighting your own sense of self preservation. Your brain is screaming at you to leave. You aren’t trained for this. You’re barely trained for anything that doesn’t involve music. But there is a part of you that still feels like this is all your fault. Maybe if you had just talked to him that day things would be different. You could’ve prevented all of this. Maybe…

The sound of Spencer’s voice pulls you forward. He sounds like he’s in pain, but the words are powerful.

“She’s not going to come. Even if she does get the note, there is no way the FBI would let her anywhere near the building.”

More guilt overwhelms you. It’s as if, all at once, the extreme stupidity of your actions hits you. You are putting Spencer’s life at risk. Hell, you are endangering the lives of any agent who has to walk into this building to protect you. You don’t know what will happen to Grant. You left him behind when all he was trying to do was protect you. You made it so he couldn’t do his job properly.

Your body leans into the nearest wall with a soft thud. You barely heard it, but it was apparently loud enough for Joshua.

“Someone’s hear.” His voice sounds playful, as if he’s really enjoying this. “Let’s hope for your sake it’s her.” You’re frozen in place as the footsteps grow closer and closer. You can’t hide. You can’t run. You can’t do anything except wait for him to walk around the corner and see you standing there.

Seeing him again isn’t like you thought it would be. You thought you’d be angered. Mostly, you’re just tired. Multiple panic attacks in one day could do that to a person. You also probably had a concussion that was influencing how you processed the emotional side of everything going on.

Seeing Spencer was different than expected as well. There was no huge wave of relief at discovering he was relatively unhurt. You felt relief, but it was like a tiny puddle surrounded by an ocean of guilt and sadness. There was mostly guilt, and no matter what anyone said before it felt different now. He was only in this position because of you. If he had not have been the one to go undercover, he wouldn’t have been targeted. And, it was your brilliant idea that landed him undercover in the first place.

He looked so panicked at the sight of you. A flurry of emotions ran across his face before settling back into a carefully controlled blank stare.

You wanted to run to him, but you couldn’t move. Yes, Josh was holding your arm in a grip sure to leave bruises, but your legs also felt like jelly. You kept thinking over and over that you shouldn’t have come. That you are only making everything worse. That everyone else’s jobs are so much harder now that you’ve put yourself here. Spencer must see it written on your face because the first thing he says after you enter the room is “It’s not your fault.”

Hearing it from him, you’re almost inclined to believe it. All you can do is nod, tears springing to your eyes.

Josh isn’t pleased with you sharing any sort of a moment with Spencer. He somehow tightens his hold on your arm, drawing a slight yelp from you. You try to remember what Hotch told you that first night. It feels like it happened months ago, but maybe you can talk your way out of this by remembering something useful. Or at least talk Spencer’s way out of it. You’ve been listening to him talk about profiling for the past week, time to put your skills to the test.

“I’m here now. You can let him go.” You don’t know who is more shocked at your words. Yourself, Josh, or Spencer. You’ve never seen Spencer speechless, but apparently you trying to talk down a psychopath who is obsessed with you and rapidly devolving is enough to manage the feat.

Josh pulls a gun from the waistband of his pants. He throws you into the wall before angrily pacing through the room.

“Josh, look at me.” It takes everything in you to pretend like this is a script. As if you are playing a role in a movie. “You have me. We can be together, but you have to let Spencer go.” He’s staring right into your eyes, trying to read your thoughts.

“You’re lying. He has to die, or he’ll always come between us.” He slowly raises the gun, not quite pointing it at any one, but enough to cause your heart rate to soar.

“Josh, think about it. I’ve known you for so much longer than I’ve known him.” You nearly choke on the next words that come out of your mouth. “He’s not important to me. Not like you.”

“STOP LYING TO ME. I KNOW WHAT I SAW.” Oh no. No no no. He’s frantically waving the gun around the room as you inch closer to Spencer. You notice movement near the door you came in, but you don’t have time to investigate. When Josh aims his gun at Spencer, you don’t think before you act- a recurring theme with you today. With all the grace of a newborn deer learning to walk for the first time, you jump in front of Spencer right as the gun goes off.

You’re not sure if it’s an echo but you would’ve sworn you heard two resounding bangs instead of just one.

Spencer catches you as you fall to the ground, bleeding from the bullet wound in your abdomen.

“Spence,” you take a shuttering breath, trying to gain the strength to talk to him.

“Shh, Y/N. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.” He turns to yell at someone out of your view. “I need a medic! Now!” He sounds just as panicked as he looked earlier.

“I’m sorry.” You squeeze his hand when he tries to interrupt you again. “I’m sorry, for coming, but not for sav-saving you. The world- it needs you to pr-pro-protect people. Th-thank you. For every,” you couch a bit as you try to get the words out. “For everything.” You know he is remembering your heartfelt speech to him and Morgan from a few days ago, or at least you hope he is. The last thing you say before your vision fades to black feels so random in comparison. “Don’t blame Grant.”

“Spence,” your breathing is choppy and rough, contrasting the smooth skin beneath his fingertips as he assesses your wound.

“Shh. Y/N. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.” His thoughts are running wild with everything he wants to say to you, but he can’t get anything meaningful to come out. Instead he’s yelling for a medic, frantically looking at all the faces of his closest friends. “I need a medic! Now!” He can hear the panic in his voice, but no amount of training or profiling knowledge can get him to control his emotions.

“I’m sorry.” He tries to interrupt you. To tell you it’s not your fault. That you did everything right. That Josh’s profile said he wouldn’t back down without a fight. Anything, but you squeeze his hand and he can’t breathe, let alone speak. “For coming, but not for sav-saving you. The world- it needs you to pr-pro-protect people. Th-thank you. For every,” he leans in closer, wishing he could do anything to stop your pain. “For everything.” He can’t help but replay your previous conversation with Morgan. Tears are falling down his face, but he can’t bring himself to care.

“Don’t blame Grant.” It takes him the entire ride to the hospital to understand why you mentioned Anderson. Even with your brain shutting down from a lack of blood flow, you were still trying to make sure nobody was blamed for your actions.

He barely listens to the EMTs and the hospital staff as he watches them wheel you back through the all too familiar ‘Authorized Personnel Only” doors.

Spencer doesn’t bother to hide his emotions when the rest of the team arrive. He doesn’t have the energy in him to muster enough energy to hide how he’s feeling from the group of profilers. They all come to the same realization simultaneously. Spencer is a wreck. There’s no other way to describe it. He spent hours in the waiting room before anyone could even convince him to wash your blood off his hands.

He just keeps thinking about how he didn’t get to say goodbye. Hell, he didn’t really say anything. You were bleeding out in front of him, having just jumped in front of a bullet to save him, and still you had more strength than he did in the moment.

Another few hours later and he still hasn’t said a word. JJ’s tried. Derek’s tried. Hotch, Penelope, and Emily tried. Nobody can get through to him. He’s either pacing back and forth or staring at a wall. Of course, his mind is racing, the words just don’t come out of his mouth.

He thinks about how much he hates hospitals. He goes over how germ-ridden every surface is, how much money is spent on healthcare in America, how many people are pronounced dead in hospitals- and then he cuts his own train of thought off.

He thinks about the statistics of gunshot wounds next. He’s hyper focused on how clean shots with an exit wound are less lethal, but yours didn’t have and exit wound so that meant you were less likely to survive- and again he cuts himself off.

He’s begging his brain for happier thoughts. Anything that won’t lead him down the rabbit hole of statistics and how likely you are to die. He clings to the first memory that pops into his head. The night he first saw you.

Hotch, Emily, and Spencer arrived at the arena while the show was still going, if the fireworks were any clue. Normally, one flash of a badge would get the team through any checkpoint, but security at this place was no joke. They called to confirm the identities of the agents before escorting them to the head of security.

That’s when Spencer saw you for the first time. Hotch was arguing with the head of security, a woman named Carrie. Emily was interjecting, trying to convey how important it was that the three agents speak to you immediately without giving away any details about the case. Spencer, if not for his eidetic memory, would have no idea what had been said. His attention was drawn elsewhere when you ran off the stage.

He knew it was the last song of the night because of what Carrie was saying. It was clear to them she was stalling the team, so you could finish the show everyone was there to see.

You had a bright smile on your face, but it seemed off to Spencer. There was a slight sadness in your eyes, and he wanted nothing more than to ask you why. The feeling perplexed him. He’s never been a social butterfly, but your presence was captivating.

He watched your smile transform into genuine happiness when you slid your arms into a new jacket for the final performance, and he wanted to ask about that to. He wanted to learn everything he could about you.

He would’ve thought his heart had skipped a beat when you made eye contact, but he knew logically he would’ve required medical attention had that actually happened. The moment was brief. Your expression, although still happy, transformed into slightly quizzical when you glanced at the three agents. He watched as you thought about who they could be before discarding all thoughts from your mind to focus on the grand finale. He kept watching as you ran back on stage, the smile only growing in size and authenticity when you looked out at the crowd.

He replays that memory in his mind, all the while ignoring the concerned glances and attempts at conversation from his friends. He desperately clings to the way he felt during that 30 second interaction.

He doesn’t understand the feelings that started in that moment. It’s like as soon as he saw you, something in him shifted. He can’t explain it. He’s not blind. He saw the smirks and subtle glances the other profilers were giving when they saw him interact with you. He was just as surprised by his willingness to comfort you, both emotionally and physically. He’s never been one for touching people he doesn’t know. There’s too many germs. But with you, everything is different... With you, he wants it all. Every little thing.

Spencer has never believed in love at first sight. He’s always been too practical, has always thought too logically. But, after the tenth time reliving that moment, he still has no other explanation for the desire he felt. The desire he still feels to learn everything there is to know about you.

All week, he’s chalked it up to his inquisitive mind. He’s always loved learning, so that must have been what was happening here. He’s never spent any considerable amount of time with a musician before, so it’s only natural that he would want to learn from the experience.

That’s a much easier explanation to accept than love. People can’t fall in love in a week. Even if it was a week spent nonstop with each other. But something in the back of his mind was screaming at Spencer to tell himself the truth.

And so he did. And it only confused him more. He’s a man of science. Proving theories with facts, not emotion. Of course, he’s always wanted to be in love, but life has shown him again and again that it wasn’t probable for him. That’s why he nearly fell out of the chair he was in when the realization dawned on him.

“I haven’t had enough time.” It’s barely a whisper, but all his friends are right there hanging on his every word. They wear cautious expressions, as if he could be easily spooked back into silence.

“Enough time for what, kid?” Morgan’s voice is uncharacteristically soft. Even in his most calming moments, Derek always puts power behind his words. It’s why he’s so good at helping people, but this is different. He can tell Spencer is hurting, and he doesn’t want to spook him back into complete silence.

“I’ve barely scratched the surface. I have so much left to learn.” Although he’s still whispering, Spencer’s voice is growing more frantic as he looks between the concerned and confused faces staring back at him. His brain is moving too fast to really explain the thought process going on inside. He can’t put into words how it wasn’t love at first sight, but rather the desire to love you. He saw you and just knew he could love you. That desire to learn everything about you somehow turned into love in the span of a week. Before he can fall even deeper into the rabbit hole he’s found himself in, Spencer is jolted out of his head by the feeling of Rossi’s hands gripping his shoulders.

“I know, kid. You’ll have more time.” Rossi’s words are so confident, Spencer has no choice but to accept them as fact. His heart slows back down to a normal pace. His breathing becomes more regular. His legs stop bouncing. His hands stop fidgeting. And he accepts the comforting words from his family.

You’re running. You don’t know where you are. You don’t know how you got here. But you know you’re running.

You feel at ease. You don’t know why. You know it to be true though. You feel safe. Peaceful.

You try to look around. Try to figure out why you’re running. Are you running toward something? Away from something? For fun? It feels fun.

You hear voices. It sounds like laughter. Slowly, you put the pieces together.

You’re in your backyard. Playing with your children. Yours and Spencer’s children. There’s three of them. All girls. The youngest is 4. The other two 6. Twins. You have twins with Spencer. You bask in the joy of it all.

You’re running because you’re playing tag. With your daughters and Spencer. He’s got the all teamed up against you. It feels unfair, but you wouldn’t change it for the world.

There’s a song playing in your head. One you’ve never heard before. It’s beautiful though. So happy. You’ll have to write it down. Find out if you’ve written it in the moment or if you are simply remembering it from long ago.

You still can’t remember how you got here. All you remember is dark. And cold.

Dark and cold. Dark. Cold. A gunshot.

The memory is foggy, but it’s there. The scene in front of you changes. The song is still playing. Its positivity doesn’t match the scene.

It’s like you’re watching a movie. Spencer is holding you. You squeeze your eyes shut. You want to go back.

Back to your kids.

Back to being happy with Spencer.

Back to running. Playing. Being in love.

Then you hear beeping. It’s quiet at first. Drowned out by the song in your head.

Then the song is getting quieter. The beeping getting louder.

Then the song is gone. You can only hear the beeping.

You remember everything when you open your eyes. It comes back to you like a wave crashing over your head, dragging you back into the ocean.

Instead of focusing on the trauma, you focus on the song.

It only takes 30 seconds for you to find your phone on the table next to your bed, open it to the voice memos app, and start recording.

You sing as much of the song as you can remember. It’s not hard since the feelings behind it are so strong. The first verse comes from the forth night you spent with Spencer. You couldn’t sleep so you convinced him to get coffee with you. It didn’t take much convincing for the coffee part since he’s pretty much addicted to the stuff. It took some convincing for him to agree to where you wanted to go though. You wanted to go back to his favorite coffee shop, but he said you could just get some in the hotel. You managed to convince him to go though. He insisted on driving since he now knew you didn’t like it much. The gesture did not go unnoticed. You knew he didn’t like driving either.

The chorus, second verse, bridge, and breakdown are jumbled, but they’re all there. It’s harder to get it right because it’s not coming from memories of you time with Spencer. It’s coming from what you hope to do with him. After a few tries, you’ve got the whole thing in order.

You lay back in your bed, the song replaying in your mind as you fall back asleep.

5 hours and 42 minutes. It’s been 5 hours and 42 minutes since you were wheeled into surgery. Every member of the team has gone up to ask about your condition at least once.

The nurse they’ve been bombarding with questions walks into the room and immediately all eyes are on her.

She escorts the team out of the waiting area into a private room before she says anything. “Since Ms. L/N is a high profile patient, we have a certain protocol to follow. All I can tell you right now is that she’s out of surgery, and she’s stable. Her security team is on the way and will need to approve any and all visitors. Once approved, her doctor can give you more information.” And then she leaves before any questions can be thrown at her.

Everyone breathes a collective sigh of relief when they hear that you’re stable. That relief is replaced by frustration when they realize they have to wait to see you. Especially for Spencer. If he could walk more than two steps in this tiny room, he’d be pacing it. Once he starts rambling, not a single team member dare to interrupt him.

It must have been 25 minutes of fidgeting, mumbling, and checking their watches before Carrie walked into the room, interrupting Spencer’s rant.

“I don’t see why our badges aren’t enough proof that we can- Carrie. Finally, can we go see her now?” Based on the look in Spencer’s eyes, anything other than an affirmative answer would not end well.

“Spencer, of course. I just had to confirm your identity in person. It’s standard procedure when she’s in the hospital. For safety reasons. The doctor should be coming in any minute and she can take us to her room.” As if on cue, the doctor walked in.

“Hello everyone, sorry to keep you waiting. Ms. L/N’s surgery went very well. The bullet was removed and all the internal bleeding was stopped before it got too bad. As you know, we’ve got her in a private room. She can have visitors, but limit it to one or two people at a time. Do you have any questions?”

Spencer knows somewhere in his mind that he should ask the doctor everything about your condition, but he can barely keep it together enough to shake his head no. He doesn’t trust himself with words right now.

“Alright, follow me to her room.” A parade of agents, along with Carrie, follow the doctor down twisting hallways to the private wing. “Now, remember one or two at a time. Last I checked, she was still asleep.” Spencer’s gaze drifts from the doctor to look at you through the window. At first glance, he would’ve sworn your eyes were open, but when he looked back again they were closed.

“Once I go in there, I’m not coming back out until she’s awake.” He turned to the rest of the group.

“Spence, it’s okay. You go in. Let us know when she’s awake.” JJ gave him a reassuring hug before her and the rest of the team wandered back to the waiting room.

Spencer and Carrie walked in slowly, as if any sudden movement could hurt you. For the first time in his life, Spencer’s mind was completely empty.

There were no statistics. No miscellaneous facts. Nothing.

He looked at you, asleep in a hospital bed after you saved his life, and he allowed himself to just feel.

It took a strange amount of concentration for him to only feel. His brain wants to butt in with statistics about the surgery or to count your breathing so he will notice any change in the pattern. But, he blocks it out. For you.

He sits down in the chair beside your bed, grabs your hand in his, lays his head on the side of your bed, and feels everything.

He feels all the love he’s been denying for the past week. He feels all the relief of knowing you are okay. He feels all the pain of watching you slip away from him. He feels everything he’s ever blocked out with numbers and statistics. And it’s exhausting. To feel so much at once.

Without thinking about it, he feels his eyes grow heavier with each added emotion.

Love.

Relief.

Pain.

Sadness.

Greif.

Anger.

Fear.

Gratitude.

Happiness.

Just the prospect of being happy is heavy enough that Spencer falls asleep.

The first thing he notices is that he’s running. He’s chasing someone. But not like he normally has to. No. There’s no unsub. Nobody is in danger. He’s playing a game. With children. His children. His and Y/N’s children. He has three daughters. The twins are older, around 6. The youngest is 4. They are helping him chase their mom. His wife. He’s built quite a future for himself in his head. He listens to the sounds of laughter, memorizing each individual’s laugh.

He feels something squeeze his hand and he’s awake. Groggy, but awake. He wants to go back to the dream. To remember what pure happiness feels like.

Then he remembers where he is. And why he’s there. The grogginess is gone. He’s alert in an instant. He’s looking at you, but you aren’t focused. You’re mumbling under your breath, looking for something in the sheets with your one free hand.

“My phone. Where’s my phone? Was it real? Did I dream it?” You seem so flustered, and he can’t fathom why your phone could be so important, but he finds it for you nonetheless.

“Thank you!” He watches as you rapidly open your phone, intently staring at the screen as if it might disappear.

“What are you-” Before he can finish the thought, a voice- no, your voice is playing from your phone.

“It was real…” You are clearly in a daze, but the happiness in your voice is contagious. Suddenly Spencer is smiling, pulling you closer to him as the lyrics to your song play in the background. He peppers soft kisses over any piece of skin he can reach. Your giggles fill him with even more love. Even more happiness.

When the two of you finally separate, he asks the first question he can think of. “When did you write this?”

You think back to your dream. The love. The joy. The pure happiness. You feel Spencer brushing the tears off your cheeks before you even realized you were crying. “It came to me in a dream. I… I guess I woke up earlier and I wanted to remember it. The dream. The song. It was all so beautiful. So happy. You were there. And then when I woke up I just recorded everything I could remember.”

Spencer is looking at you with such adoration that you almost feel shy. You want more than anything for that dream to be a reality. Not right away obviously, but in the future for sure.

“It’s beautiful.” His words are soft and low.

“It’s about you.” If you weren’t in a hospital bed, you might be inclined to think you were still in a dream. “About us.”

“I love it. I love you.” Spencer whispers the words into your skin. Almost like it was involuntary, it slipped out like a breath.

“I love you too.” He kisses you again, before the sound of the door opening breaks you two apart.

Carrie rushes in when she sees you’re awake, not realizing the moment that had just occurred.

“Oh, Y/N. I’m so glad you’re okay!” She squeezes you lightly in a one armed hug, the other hand carrying a tray of coffees and a paper bag. “I brought coffee for Spencer and a scone for you!”

“Well, I hope you poured a mountain of sugar into it. He likes it sweet.” You turn to smile at the man only to find him already looking at you.

“Only as sweet as you.” You laugh at the cheesiness of the moment, but you blush anyway, squeezing his hand. “Thank you, Carrie, for the coffee. I should go let the team know you’re awake.” He kisses your forehead before he walks out of the room.

“Oh honey, you have a lot to fill me in on.” Carrie is looking at you with the biggest smirk you’ve ever seen. She has been your head of security for 4 years, and the two of you have become close friends through all the crazy experiences. Although, nothing as crazy as this.

“What do you mean? I told you I thought he was cute…” You really have no hope of hiding this from her, but you can mess with her a little bit.

“Yeah, but kissing you on the forehead? Calling you sweet in the corniest of ways? What’s going on? Tell me!!” You could leave her hanging, but you are really feeling the need to gush.

“I wrote him a song. In my dream. I think it conveys everything pretty clearly.” You play the song for her, again remembering how you felt in the dream. When it’s over you’re nearly in tears again.

“It’s stunning. Just so beautiful. I’m glad you’ve found someone who makes you so happy.” You can tell she’s nervous about something, and you’ve got a pretty good idea of what.

“Carrie, don’t worry about me. I really think he’s the one. I’ve never felt this strongly, especially so fast. And I know what you’re thinking, fast might not be good, but we’ve spent so much time together. I mean, think about it. How long does the average date last? 2, 3 hours? At that rate, we’ve already been on roughly 37 dates! And that’s if you don’t count the hours we spent sleeping, which we also did together!”

Carrie snorts at that. “Yeah, sleeping.”

“No, I mean actually sleeping.” You try to stress the point. “He kissed me once, but the rest of the time was spent getting to know each other, writing songs, him working on the case, and sleeping. Eyes closed, pajamas on, sleeping.”

Her eyes soften, the smile on her face widening before she responds. “Okay. I won’t worry… too much.” You’re just about to tell her about the dream when the door opens again.

Penelope comes storming into the room with flowers and a teddy bear, whisper shouting about how happy she is that you’re okay. Just before you turn to give her your full attention, you can see Derek and Spencer talking in the hall.

“Come on Pretty Boy, what’s going on there?” Derek’s wearing his usual smirk for whenever Spencer’s love life is concerned.

“What do you mean?” Try as he might, Hell would have to freeze over for Derek to stop this line of questioning.

“I mean, I see how you look at her. Hell, we all watched you fall apart in the waiting room. What’s the deal? C’mon man, fill me in!” Spencer doesn’t know how to describe it. He doesn’t know how to convert the emotions he’s recently accepted into words, so he tries something else.

“She wrote me a song.” Spencer’s words are wistful. He’s transported himself back into dreamland. Back to the kids and the games. Back to happiness.

“Kid, it’s more than that. She wrote all of us songs.” Derek’s words cause the dream to sleep away yet again. .

“No, well yes. Although technically we wrote that song about me together. I mean, she wrote me an entire song. In a dream.” This time, Derek replies too quickly for him to slip back into the dream.

“Reid. You’re not making sense. You dreamt that she wrote you a song?” Derek’s words are comforting, like he’s trying to figure out the best way to help Spencer convey his emotions without pushing him too far.

“No. She said after her surgery, she had a dream. About me. About… us. The song was playing in the background.” Derek nods, finally understanding his friend.

“Okay, so what was the song about?” Again, his words are soft.

“Us. The time we’ve spent together and the time she wants us to spend together in the future.” It’s taken Derek this long into the conversation to realize why Spencer seems so out of it. He’s happy. He’s not faking it. He’s not hiding behind statistics. He’s just happy. Plain and simple.

“And that’s what you want to?” He can’t help but smile, really truly smile, at the pure look of adoration that Spencer wears when he looks through the window at you.

“More than anything.” Derek pulls him into a hug. Normally, hugs like this are typically reserved for when they just saved each other or after a particularly bad case. This case, although involving Spencer’s kidnapping and a trip to the hospital, had a rather positive outcome.

“Good. You deserve it man.”

A few days later and you are itching to leave the hospital. You’ve been working to reschedule your tour dates so you can fully recover before performing again, but even with that it’s incredibly boring to be stuck in the hospital for so long.

“Good news. You can leave the hospital tomorrow!” Spencer walks in, followed by the rest of the BAU team. They’ve been taking turns visiting you, something you suspect Spencer asked them to do, but you don’t really mind. You’ve actually become good friends with most of them.

“Yay!” Before too much celebration can occur, you’re passing out USBs to each team member. “I’m glad you’re all hear. I managed to record some preliminary versions of your songs! Listen to them whenever you’d like, or don’t that’s cool too. Either way, I’ll make sure to get you the properly recorded versions when I get a chance to go into the studio. I included some thoughts about other inspirationsas well, so don’t feel bad if there is a lyric that doesn’t really match you.” The majority of the team give you thanks and endless praise before Hotch clears his throat.

“Our songs? Did I miss something?” You chuckle at that. The man clearly doesn’t miss anything ever.

“Nobody told you? The first day I met you all, Pen asked me to write a song inspired by her. Trust me, it wasn’t hard. She’s a fountain of inspiration. Then when I was waiting for Spence to get back so we could go to the hotel, I came up with one or two for everyone!” You can’t tell if Hotch is more or less concerned now than when he was out of the loop.

“So I have a song? What is it?” The rest of the team can’t hide their smirks. It’s clear they never get to see their boss act this nervous.

“Well, it’s on the CD!” He groans at the idea of waiting when everyone else already knows. “But, since everyone else got a sneak peak, I’ll give you one too. Wasn’t it beautiful running wild till you fell asleep? Before the monster’s caught up to you… It’s okay, just wait and see. Your string of lights is still bright to me. Oh, who you are is not where you’ve been. You’re still an innocent.” You give everyone a minute to think about the lyrics before the silence is too much for you to take.

“I’m sorry if that’s weird! It’s just, the first time I saw you, and there was this look in your eyes. In all of your eyes, but yours the most.” You are looking straight at Hotch. “Like you’ve been through some really terrible things, and maybe you had to do some things that can be hard to deal with. But, that doesn’t make you a bad person or anything, ya know? That’s where the inspiration came from…” You can’t tell if your rambling helped or not. The profilers are so hard to read. Pen is subtly crying near the side of your bed, so you pull her in for a hug. Before you know it, the rest of the team is joining in.

“It’s not weird at all. You are pretty good at reading people, ever consider becoming a profiler?” Hotch is clearly trying to lighten the mood, but his expression conveys how much he appreciates the song.

“I think this will be my first and last case. Clearly I’m not that great at talking down the bad guy.” You shudder to think of putting yourself in that position again.

“From what I heard, you did a pretty decent job. The ending was exactly what we expected unfortunately. Plus, you can definitely hold your own. I heard you flipped Morgan over your shoulder like a ragdoll.” Rossi’s comment earns laughs from the entire group.

“Please, I just caught him off guard. Although, I don’t think I’ll ever forget the look on his face afterwards.” Again, the groups laughs. “I just wanted to thank you all. For protecting me, but also for visiting me so much. You really know how to see the positive side of things.”

“Anyone willing to jump in front of a bullet for Spencer is definitely a friend of ours.” JJ chimes in.

You can’t help but truly smile at the team. It seems you’ve found yourself another family, and you couldn’t be more grateful.

tag list:

@mac99martin , @wecouldbreakthedistance , @spencerhotchner , @girloncorneliastreet , @itsametaphorbriansblog , @moonshinerbynight , @meowiemari , @justanotherfangirl , @im-so-wonderstruck , @eevee0722 , @raining13lemonade @dilaudidwinchester , @silverdagger69 , @thatsonezesty13 , @ladyravenclaw , @uwucorpse , @dark-night-sky-99 , @thechloethings , @http-cherries , @emilouu

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid #Criminal Minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst

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heartbreakgrill · 4 years

Text

Anyone Else; Calum Hood

You leaned down over Calum’s shoulder, blocking out the bright sunset behind the two of you. He inhaled, reveling in the coconut scent of your shampoo, fused with sunscreen and chlorine-d pool water. He shook his head lightly, reminding himself to open his eyes and focus on the phone in his hand. You lifted your free hand, that wasn’t cradling a White Claw, and pointed at a profile.

“She’s super cute! I feel like she’s your type,” you commented at the picture of a taller girl, sporting fishnets and a Led Zeppelin.

“You think I’m only into girls who like rock?” Calum chuckled a little.

You shrugged, moving away to tug over a free camping chair. You leaned back in, giving Calum the view of your neck as your hair fell away from it. He licked his lips as you spoke again, “I mean, I think you look good next to someone like that based on how you dress and shit. If you’re not into that, dont let me pressure you.”

You giggled and twisted around to look at him. His eyes focused in on yours, “Uh, yeah. Or, no, youre good. Youre not pressuring me. Just helping, right?”

“Right,” you scrunched your eyes in a beat, to show you were somewhat confused by his confusion. “Anyways, swipe right or left and lets move along.”

“Okay.” Cal did as you said, allowing the screen to switch to another girl.

“Oh, no, no, she looks too much like Crystal,” you giggled lightly. “Love Crystal, but that’d be creepy.”

“So I can’t like anyone who looks like anybody in our friend group?” Calum remarked, his heart hoping you wouldn’t break it by what you would reply with.

You wriggled in your seat, “I dont know. I feel like its weird. If they look like Luke, Ill allow it.”

His lips fumbled before his brain could reach out and grasp the words and shuffle them back into a drawer, “What if they look like you?”

“Yeah, right,” you looked back at him, “I’m unique. One of a kind, baby.”

Calum flushed as you spoke. He fumbled again, about to spill again, when Sierra called your name from the pool. “Show me that boy from last weekend?”

You quickly got up, excusing yourself from Calum, and pranced across the concrete patio to the fire pit, where Luke and Sierra were cuddled up, talking to another one of your friends. Calum tried not to break his neck and watch you animatedly talk about your Tinder date last Saturday. Yet he knew it was noticeable he was trying to pry.

He felt a hand slap down on his shoulder and Calum jumped in his seat. Michael took your seat, Crystal trailing along behind and slinking into his lap. “You got it bad, mate.”

Crystal grinned at him, “You really do.”

Calum shook his head, “Dont know what youre talking about.”

“Oh, my God,” Michael pressed his fingers to his forehead, eyes cartwheeling in their sockets. “Seriously, I never understand situations like this. I dont think it’d ruin your friendship if you asked to kiss her and she rejected you.”

“It wouldn’t,” Calum remarked, speaking the honest truth. He shifted in his seat, glancing at you before meeting Michael’s eyes. “But it would ruin me. And I dont really want a broken heart right now.”

Crystal’s eyes widened and she leaned forward. “Cal, is it worse than we thought?”

“Worse?” Michael furrowed his brows, looking between the two before realization hit him like chance. “Oh, shit. Dude?”

Calum stood suddenly, tossing his empty beer can in the garbage. “I’m going home. See ya later.”

He didn’t give them the chance to say anything else as he gathered his damp towel, shoes, and bag from around him. He passed through the kitchen, waving lazily to Ashton and Kay, who were preparing the food for s’mores.

“Not staying?” Ashton called after him.

He heard Kay mutter something else to him and Ashton shocked a small, “Oh.”

You finished telling the story of Matt, who you had gone on a date with last week as Calum was pulling out of the driveway. “Yeah, but I don’t know if I’m going see him again.”

“Why?” Luke asked, puzzled by the fact that you sounded like you were really interested in him for the past five minutes, but didn’t wanna go on another date.

“I dont know,” you crossed your arms. “He’s just not my type. He’s kinda, like, stern. He’s funny, but funny in an unconventional way. He doesnt seem like he’d, I dont know, be playful in a relationship. Does that make sense? i want a guy who can be playful, but who’s mature.”

Sierra grinned to herself, nudging Luke with her elbow. “Yeah, that makes sense. Hey, ya know, Y/N?”

“Hm?” You looked to her.

Luke took over, “We know someone who’s like that.”

“Oh!” You smiled wider, “Who?”

You felt Michael slink an arm over your shoulder, whisper in your ear, “Calum.”

You moved from under him, his weight overbearing to you. “Yeah, okay.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Crystal sat on the couch across from Sierra.

“Nothings wrong. Hes just super out of my league. Plus, I’m not his type. I’m all, strawberries and picnics and, like, Hozier. He listens to Nickelback and he’d rather go to a club than kayak. I dont know, I feel like he wouldn’t like me because of my interests.”

“Cal’s a softer, you know that, right?” Luke replied. “Hes a big rockstar, yeah, but he loves hiking and nature, too.“

“He loves y- ow!” Michael groaned out, Crystal interrupting him with a shove to the ribs.

You gave him a strange look before looking back to Luke, “I know, but still. He’s still out of my league.”

The weeks passed, more pool parties and barbecues filling your lengthened free summer days that you weren’t working or going on sporadic Tinder dates. You’d been on five total, with four different guys. Each party brought more stories, more tall tales of Derek, the free lance artist who wore a scarf and ordered you red wine, Gideon, the police officer who hadn’t put his career in his bio, and got slightly upset when you talked about your advocacy for human rights. Spencer was just weird, with piles of facts, criticizing your jokes for being politically incorrect or scientifically impossible. However, Aaron was nearly perfect. He was super sweet, dressed like a normal person, and laughed at your jokes, agreed passionately with your advocacy.

Each time you retold a story, Calum would slide down in his seat, frown at the world around him, excuse himself from the party too soon. You were catching on slightly, smelling the jealousy seeping from his pores, though it was masked by chlorine. You figured he was just jealous because he couldn’t manage to match with a good enough woman on Tinder. So, tonight- though you had to leave early for a date with Aaron- you would most definitely find him a match.

Calum had arrived early to Luke’s house to get the meat started on the grill. He was flipping a few burgers, sipping at his first beer with absentminded concentration. His mind wandered as Luke rambled off his ear about something he saw on Twitter. Luke laughed at a joke he made, while Calum’s eyes lost focus and went blurry. His thoughts swirled with you- your shampoo, and its coconut scent that reminded him of his first crush in middle school. Your eyes were seen in so many, so similar, yet freckled with so much heartbreak and kindness that emitted from your soft spoken lips and light hands that had contact with the stars.

He didn’t care if he would look better next to a girl with jet black hair and a perfect body. He didn’t care if they played bass, too, or if they were famous and loved The Rolling Stones. He didn’t care if she was hard headed and loud. He liked that you were soft and quiet- he was, too. He loved that you dressed so different; your floral patterns went well with his dark jeans t-shirt combos. He didnt care about things looked, just how they felt. And things with you...Hell, you felt good.

Calum jumped as Luke shouted, “Youre burning the burger- Cal!”

Calum dropped his beer can, spilling the liquid all over his bare feet as he grasped for the spatula. He tossed a burnt burger into the trash with a huff, scooping the others onto a tray. “Sorry.”

Luke shook his head, sitting down beside Calum, who was dipping his feet into the water to clean them off. “What’s your problem, mate? You’ve gotten so quiet lately. Especially when Y/N’s around.”

“Part of me is hoping I’ll be able to fight the urge to kiss her if I just stop talking to her. But, then she comes around and i cant stop talking to her. We get on so well,” Calum murmured, though Luke could hear.

“Yeah?” Luke urged him, feeling proud he could get Cal to say so much. He was a quiet person, a loud jokester in social situations, but so soft and enclosed about himself.

Calum shook his head, huffed, “I cant settle for somebody else. I know that sounds selfish and stupid, but she’s all I want. She’s all I’ve wanted since i met her. She’s so perfect and good and...she makes me feel good. I dont know. Its not impossible for her to like me back, but she’s so obsessed with the idea of someone being her type. Its like she’s afraid to just take a chance and love someone who she doesnt have figured out. She wants it all to be certain and specific and exactly the way she expects it to be.”

Luke sighed, creating small ripples with his feet in the pool, “Cal, Y/N is like a literal angel. She’s gentle and quiet and contained and confirmed. She’s perfect, like you said. But, Sierra knows her so well. She keeps herself like that because she’s been heartbroken before. So many times before. She’s scared, yes. But I think shed be willing to give you a chance if you just tell her...tell her exactly what it is.”

“What do you mean?” Calum already knew everything about Y/N. But, he didnt want Luke to think he was obsessive even though she knew everything about Cal, too.

Luke shrugged, both of their head’s turning to the patio door as it opened. “I dont know. But, you do. Just tell her.”

“How will I know if I’m saying the right things?”

“You just will.”

Sierra led you over to a lounge chair, sitting beside you as you slipped out of your sandals and tugged off your shirt. You were left in your bikini top and shorts, a combination that made Calum’s heart palpitate. He took the courage from Luke’s words and stood, walking over to you.

“Yeah, so if he ever wants to...” Sierra trailed off as Calum’s shadow fell over the two of you.

He gave you a shy smile as Sierra grinned and excused herself.

“Hey, Cal,” your lips lifted, eyes following him as he sat next to you. “How’ve ya been?”

“Good, you?” He was shy. He knew you could tell, too. His eyes kept switching between yours and his hands, your lips and...

“I’m okay. A little burnt out. Work has been busy because its summertime. High fashion and stuff, ya know?” You laughed, jabbing at a joke. Your eyes glinted when Calum tossed his head back and laughed.

“Yeah, I know, dont you see my high-end swim shorts?” He made a motion to show off his pants, and you admired him.

“Cute,” you replied. A beat of silence passed before your phone made a noise. You didnt touch it, knowing it was rude to do so, but your brows flicked up. “Oh! Have you matched with any other girls on Tinder? If you haven’t, I’m making it my mission to find you someone else.”

“How am I supposed to think about anyone else?” He blurted out suddenly.

You stopped smiling, blood freezing and your body turning stiffly. “What?”

“Uh,” Calum thought, wondering how he should go about this. “Theres a million little things I haven’t told you. I cant go on keeping them to myself. And pretending I want anyone else.”

You met his eyes and Calum felt the world melt away. Like a focused lens on a camera, he only saw you, your golden little halo. Your shocked expression.

“Cal,” you hesitated, “Aaron.”

“Is he the guy you want to hold you?” Calum whispered.

You visibly shivered, your heart beating out of your chest.

“It kills me thinking of you with him,” he paused, “you and i could have it good. I dont know him, but I know myself, and I know that I can love you so much better than he could.”

You shook your head, sweat pooling on your hands and the back of your neck. “No, Cal. Please. Dont make it hard.”

“It’s not hard unless you make it hard,” Calum spoke as soon as you began to stand.

“No, its not supposed to be hard. I want it to be easy for once,” you said.

Calum grabbed your hand, turning you back around, “It is. I know were so different, and I’m on the road all the time, and I’m fucked up because of people from my past. I know I smoke, and you help clean up cigarette butts in the park and I’m silent when I shouldn’t speak, but if you jump, Ill jump, too. C’mon, please?”

You finally met his eyes, feeling the rhythm of your heart steady. “I know its dramatic, but I’m just so afraid. So many guys have hurt me and made me feel ugly. I carry myself in a way that allows protection and routine. I hate the idea of some disturbance because disturbance has always meant hurt. Cal...i could love you. I think I’m very close to loving you, but i dont know if i can let myself.”

“I do love you, and I’m letting myself,” Calum stepped closer, tugging you to close the distance more. “Just let go.”

With silent permission, his hands slipped around your waist and your clutched his t-shirt. Your fists were tight, your lips stoic. Until you felt a lock pick inside your soul and you relaxed.

TAG LIST: @mantlereid @boxofteenageideas

, @dinosaursandsocks , @ashhdaniellee95 @zhangyixingxing1

#5sos fanfic #5sos fluff #calum hood #calum hood imagine #calum hood x reader #calum hood x y/n #calum hood x you #calum hood fanfiction #5 seconds of summer #calum blurb #calum hood fluff #calum x reader

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shadowsinger11 · 4 years

Text

Golden Snitches And Old Wounds

Pairing: James Potter x Insecure Reader

Word count: 2787

Request: Hi! I hope you and your loved ones are safe and well. I wanted to ask you if your requests open. If so can i request a james potter imagine with a very self conscious reader? Thank you!

Warnings: Suggestive themes, references to anxiety and depression

A/N: I actually like how this one turned out. It's way sadder than intended but I hope you enjoy! If you want to be tagged, let me know! Requests are open!

Masterlist

Lily and you were sitting on a bench right on top of one of the twelve colorful towers around the massively wide pitch, waving your Gryffindor flags in excitement.

The scene before you represented a blur of scarlet and green and you struggled to spot your boyfriend of two years, James Potter, among the fourteen players.

His leather-gloved hands gripped the handle of his broom tightly as he was swiftly avoiding bludgers and students, rushing to catch the quaffle.

"Potter, on your left!"

On instinct, James drifted to the right a mere second before his head managed to collide with a bludger. The boy kept soaring high up in the clear spring sky, eyes focused forward.

"Brilliant! Potter tossed the quaffle into the ring!" the speaker roared, "The score is 120:120. Will Gryffindor's Chaser be able to score another goal and give their Seeker an opportunity to catch the snitch?"

"Oh, I sure hope he does," you muttered, sitting on the edge of your seat, eyes focused on the Gryffindor Chaser.

The commentator excitedly shouted, "Robertson passes the quaffle to Smith, he passes it to Potter- no! It was stolen from Taylor, that Slytherin son of a-"

"Joshua!"

"Sorry, professor," the boy sheepishly smiled at McGonagall though he wasn't sorry at all, and returned to retelling the match. "Potter's caught the quaffle! He's swooping down, the three Slytherin Chasers on his tail…"

Over the noise you heard Lily exclaim, "What's he doing! He's getting further away from the ring."

"I don't know, I think he's trying to get rid of the Slytherins, distract them maybe?" you shrugged. You really hoped James was doing this for a reason but yet again, when has he ever thought things through?

Meanwhile you noticed Sirius, a Beater of the team, covering his buddy, making sure to guide the bludgers in the direction of team Slytherin. You had no idea if those two had planned this beforehand or if Padfoot was just improvising.

"A bludger knocked Taylor off his broom!" Joshua happily announced. "That's the moment for Potter to strike!"

And exactly then James swiftly turned around and sped up towards his aim. He threw the quaffle with all his might, the ball piercing the air and going right through the ring.

"Yes!! He did it! What a brilliant attack!" the commentator screamed. Lily and you squealed and clapped, cheering him on. "Now it's up to the Gryffindor Seeker to catch the Golden snitch and that'll be the end!"

James tried to spot you in the audience and when he did, his grin grew even wider. He threw a wink your way but he didn't have much time to celebrate because his task now was to make sure Slytherins didn't score another goal and maybe get another 10 points himself while he was at it. He drifted between teammates and opponents, the summer wind ruffling his hair. He prevented numerous attacks from the opposite team, winning a good couple of minutes where the score was even and Gryffindor had a chance to win.

"Where the hell is the Seeker!" Lily groaned, "It's a matter of time until Slytherin strikes a goal."

You understood her frustration but had faith. You always supported your boyfriend and his team during matches regardless of which house they were up against. You were aware of how much stamina James had, especially when it came to Quidditch, and even more so now that he could almost graze the win with his fingertips.

Suddenly, the Seeker emerged from the depths, a small ball shining in his grasp.

"He's caught the snitch! Williams got the Golden snitch, Gryffindor wins!" Joshua roared, rising to his feet.

The air shook with the screams and cheers of Gryffindors and Gryffindor supporters. Some students hugged each other, squealing in euphoria, others whined and screamed in frustration. The audience turned into a sea of scarlet flags, the iconic lion on display for everyone to see. Professor McGonagall smiled, something rare for a woman as stern and serious as her. The atmosphere buzzed with excitement.

Lily and you high-fived and rushed down the stairs, impatient to greet the boys. When you ran along the pitch, the team was already surrounded by fans and you saw Sirius carrying James on his shoulders, their other teammates doing the same with Williams. Slytherins were quick to exit the scene, muttering curses and complaints.

"Not trying to steal my boyfriend, I hope?" you asked Sirius and laughed.

"Boyfriend?" he feigned being shocked, "Why didn't you tell me there was someone else, James?"

James only rolled his eyes and his friend let him down. Potter walked up to you, standing tall in all his red leather glory. His chest heaved with every breath he took, his spiky hair was disheveled beyond recognition and his uniform was wrinkled and covered in dirt. He was a mess but still managed to look so perfect in your eyes, he was absolutely irresistible.

"Did you enjoy the show, babe?" he smirked as he placed his gloved hands around your waist, pulling you close. You giggled and pecked his nose, "Indeed I did. You're such a show-off."

"But you love me nonetheless," he mumbled, out of breath, and leaned in but you pulled away before he got to kiss you.

"I suggest you shower first, you're quite sweaty."

He frowned and pouted his lips but couldn't help but grin, caressing your cheek. You were staring into his hazel eyes and when they focused on yours, your cheeks turned the same color as his uniform. James was incredibly confident, charming and charismatic and he never failed to make your heart flutter every time you caught him glance at you.

He seemed perfect to you and your expression suddenly darkened when poisonous thoughts clouded your mind. He was perfect, but what about me?

Before James had the chance to ask what was wrong, his friends pulled him aside, "The coach wants to talk to us." He couldn't do anything except for giving you a sad smile and a wave as he left.

A tap on your shoulder snapped you out of your trance.

"Let's go to lunch, I'm starving."

You nodded and followed Lily out of the now empty pitch.

Prodding your salad with a fork, you were still processing your thoughts from earlier, replaying them over and over in your head. You couldn't get rid of the image of James. You were smitten by his messy hair, goofy smile, the way his uniform clung tightly to his body, highlighting his broad shoulders and strong biceps. His physique looked way more impressive and massive and the sight made you lick your lips.

Your daydreaming was interrupted when the doors of the Great Hall opened wide, the winning team walking through. The Quidditch players were greeted with loud cheers and clapping which some of the teachers joined too. Even in just his plain Gryffindor cloak James managed to look astonishingly handsome and he did it so effortlessly. His black robes were flailing freely behind him as he made his way over to you and sat down on your right.

"Clean and fresh just for you," he smirked and pressed his lips to yours, lingering for a bit more than you expected. After that, you proceeded to eat your meal while he placed a steak, some salad, sauce and other different kinds of food on his plate.

"You did an amazing job up there, really."

He smiled, taking a sip of his pumpkin juice, "Did you ever doubt me?"

Ah, that cockiness. It might have sometimes gotten on your nerves but it was a part of what made your boyfriend unique and you adored it. You laughed, trying to cover up how flushed he had made you, "Absolutely never, Potter. You're one of a kind."

"So are you."

His compliment caught you somehow unprepared and you slightly froze. You looked at him only to find him already staring at you with such loving eyes, it made you shift in your seat.

"What?" you giggled, dumbfounded.

"Thank you for being there. It really matters to me," he gave your hand a light squeeze.

Seriously, what did you do to deserve this guy.

He's amazing in so many ways, I just can't compare.

You noticed students sending you dirty glances from across the hall and you wished you could shrink in your seat. You lowered your gaze and silently finished your meal.

"Seriously, what's the difference between Felix Felicis and liquid luck? The professor crossed off "liquid luck" and replaced it with Felix Felicis! That's not fucking fair," you groaned, checking your graded essay. You were pretty sure you'd get an Outstanding but you only got Exceeds Expectations which you were slightly pissed about.

Lying on your boyfriend's bed, you were rambling on and on about school work, earning occasional chuckles from James as he was getting changed.

"I mean, Remus always gets the best grades, how on earth does he do that! I swear, he's like a walking encyclop-"

Your words got stuck in your throat at the sight of a half-naked James. His shoulders, toned arms, back and abs were on display while he paced around the room, trying to find his sweater. His muscles flexed under his flesh with every move and you could feel your mouth begin to water.

Once James found the clothing, he turned around. He grinned when he saw your blushing face and didn't miss the opportunity to put on a show for you - he slowly put on his sweater, his jeans falling low around his waist when he raised his arms above his head.

James wasn't only caring, loving and talented. He was also extremely hot. A kind soul wrapped in a pretty package.

Your mind started to wander and you thought about all the girls and boys who would die to be in your place; to be able to date the infamous Marauder and see him shirtless all the time like you got to. You knew many people envied your relationship and you tried not to care that much but you still somehow did. You always did.

"Are you alright, love? You're doing that again."

"I-uh… what?" you stuttered, embarrassed.

James, now dressed, sat in front of you on the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight, "You tend to space out from time to time, you stop listening to me. What's on your mind?"

You shook your head and started to rearrange your books, attempting to appear busy, "Yeah, I do that sometimes, sorry. It's nothing though, I just get lost in my thoughts."

James was eyeing up and down your stiff figure and his heart stung when you lied. One of the things he despised most was being lied to and it hurt him immensely when you did. He knew you meant well but he wanted you to trust him and talk to him like he did.

The boy abruptly but gently grabbed your trembling hands and you froze.

"Talk to me," he pleaded, looking into your eyes for a sign, any sign to reveal how you were feeling on the inside.

Your nervous smile faded and you dropped your gaze to where his hands held yours.

The room was ghostly quiet and you felt trapped, unable to run away or escape the situation.

You opened your mouth to speak but your lower lip quivered and no words came out. James simply stood there, patiently waiting for you to say something while soothingly rubbing his thumbs over your knuckles. After taking a deep breath, you choked out.

"Why do you like me?"

He seemed slightly confused but his expression remained calm, "What do you mean?"

You chewed on your lip, considering how to proceed. He deserved honesty and he was genuinely worried so it wasn't fair to keep secrets from him.

"It's just… I am…" you sighed, frustrated. "You're amazing, James. People love you. You're smart, athletic, outgoing and your personality lights up the room. You charisma is undeniable."

You stopped to inhale again, your throat tightening as tears blurred your vision. Your voice was shaking and so were your hands. James only listened. "You're an exceptional person yet you're with me. I-I don't get it. You could choose someone more impressive, someone whose abilities can compare to yours… Someone who's not me."

A tear rolled down your cheek and it pierced through James' heart like a burning blade. He brought your hands up to his face and softly pressed his lips to your knuckles. James let you cry it out first before he dared to speak, knowing you needed this moment to simply let yourself feel before anything else. There was time for figuring things out, but it was not now.

You sobbed and he reached to brush a piece of hair behind your ear, "I've got issues, James. I'm hard to deal with. I struggle with many things and I'm afraid I'm just being a burden to you."

James immediately pulled you into his embrace, arms wrapping around you as you hugged your knees. He rested his chin on top of your head which was leaned on his chest. The boy could not believe a person as breathtaking as you would think so lowly of themselves. You both stood there for awhile, not talking at all. James needed time to take it all in just like you needed time to calm down.

"What makes you think like that?" he hesitantly whispered, voice trembling.

You stared off into the distance, tired eyes unseeing.

"I don't know. I just do. I've always been looked at as if I'm a disease, as if I'm wrong to feel happy," you muttered, using your sleeve to wipe your nose. "Something's wrong with me and I have no idea what. I'm just scared... and exhausted."

You heard James sob.

"How long have you been feeling like this for?"

You swallowed and took a breath, "Years."

James' arms tightened around you, sheltering you from the cold world. You took peace in the vulnerability, you had no strength to hide or pretend, you were free to simply exist.

"At some point I gave up on happiness. That was until I met you," you explained. "You gave me hope and though it was painful and risky for me, I decided to trust you. You never let me down but I'll always be afraid you'll leave me for someone less troubled than me. Like most people did."

"Then I'll always be here to remind you that I'm not going anywhere. I'll be by your side to help you."

You held onto his sweater, scared to let him go, "Thank you."

James rubbed your back up and down and pressed a kiss to your head, "You wanted to know why I love you?"

You hummed, turning to him.

He took a look at your bloodshot eyes and tear-stained face and he fell in love even more.

"I love you because of your pure soul. No one has ever treated me with such sincerity. You always support me, guide me and ground me when my head's up in the clouds. I'm far from perfect, I'm flawed just like everyone else. But you don't only make me a better person, you make me want to be better. For you."

A few tears rolled down your cheeks, this time from gratitude and love.

"I'm amazed at how torn you are, but still willing to give a part of yourself to those who need it. Your kindness knows no limits and I admire that in you. You might hate the hurt, damaged side of yourself, but I find its rawness to be astonishing. Because I love you. All of you."

Warmth spread throughout your body and for the first time you felt truly safe.

James slowly kissed your chapped lips. He stood still, just letting the moment take place. You savoured the feeling of his lips on yours and were surprised to feel something wet drip on your cheek. When you pulled away, you saw his glossy eyes.

"I love you too," you replied softly and nestled back into his lap. James hugged you, relieved to finally know what was going on with you. He vowed to himself to help you in any way he could and to constantly remind you that you're not fighting your battle on your own. You, on the other hand, were way calmer as well. It was refreshing to be understood and accepted, to not be judged or blamed for a change. You didn't have to act a role or lie. You let down your defences and let the rotten wound inside you bleed. And you smiled.

Reblog if you enjoyed my work!

Tag list: @self-ship-love

Masterlist

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snowydaffodils · 3 years

Text

Exhilarating

1741 words | 3rd Person POV

Another short fluff - this time with Seventeen's Josh!

Synopsis: Everything was dull and boring, but when she entered the room, she was like a breath of fresh air.

---

Despite the well designed interior and the fancy vases that decorated the room, it didn't push away the feeling of unfamiliarity and solitude that Joshua had felt since he arrived - or at the very least became aware of his surroundings. He didn't feel the isolation as much when he first came, because his vision (and memory) was blurry. He remembered people talking around him, and he remembered being taken from one place to another, but he didn't remember what they were saying exactly, or where they brought him to. When he came to, they told him he collapsed on pre-recording, and they had to immediately bring him to the hospital.

Joshua sighed. While the room was probably one of the most luxurious ones he'd been in, there was an odd unsettling feeling that disturbed him as he lay there, alone. It didn't help that he was wearing hospital clothes instead of his own and also that he was stuck to an IV drip. Just in between the door and floor, he saw shadows that stood tensely beyond his room, and he could guess them as the assigned security for him - just in case one of those sasaengs reached him somehow.

With the window shutters being closed down, it further elongated his feeling of being boxed in, as Vernon would've phrased it. His members were off to another schedule that he later would have to make up for, so nobody would be on the group chat. He would've called his mom to push away the loneliness, but it would have been barely dawn in Los Angeles.

The ceiling, once a comfortable target to place his sights on, slowly grew dull and boring, so he moved to lay sideways instead, facing the door. It was then when he heard noises and steps coming towards his direction, and the shadows under the door moved around for the first time.

His eyes perked up to see who was coming, hoping it would be his manager, or one of the members who finished their schedules early and came to see him. Instead of them, a white coat caught his eyes, the person in it fiddling with the notes she was holding as she entered the room.

"Mr. Hong, right?" she smiled, pulling up her glasses as she approached him. "Hong Jisoo."

The way she called him was cheerful and perky, and it brought a different light to enter the room. It suddenly didn't seem so sullen, and for that, Joshua was happy she entered, whoever she may be.

"Yes?" he managed, as he pulled himself up to sit straight and look at her properly.

"Good morning," she cheered, and he noticed that she was looking directly into his eyes. While he was used to direct eye-contact in America, Koreans tend to deem that action impolite, so he didn't really expected it. Even so, he had always thought of eye contact as an important element in communicating - it shows just how much attention you were getting from the other person. Her eyes seemed bright as he returned the contact, and the mere fact that they were looking into each other's eyes played a huge part in lightening up the room.

"Morning," Joshua replied, trying to smile back as politely as he could, despite the heaviness of his head while keeping his body upright.

"Oh, you shouldn't move too much!" she said upon seeing him. "You were running a high fever, on top of that you were dehydrated and overworked, too. Your temperature went down slightly, but you're still in a feverish range," she said quickly, adjusting the small tube that was connected to his arm.

"I feel better, though," Joshua reasoned, giving the girl a small smile to support his subjective argument. She puffed and blew the little bangs annoying her eyes away and placed her hands on her hips.

"Better doesn't equal good enough," she said, the look in her eyes clearly opposing his attempts to be let go. "Besides, take this opportunity to actually rest, okay? Its a big fancy room with fancy lighting, a TV and good speakers, and we'll get you food in a moment. You can't argue that this is not heaven," she rambled, pointing at his surroundings.

Joshua laughed, he had never met a doctor like this one. "You have a point," he said. "But, do you think you can move me to another room? Preferably with people?"

She blinked. "You want to switch rooms?"

Joshua looked around, there was a nurse standing right behind this doctor girl, and his security guard had stepped inside since the girl entered. They all looked at him weird and obviously against the idea, so he just nodded timidly and sighed.

"Its just that," the girl waited for his response patiently, her hands back on her the edge of his bed and the other on her notes. Joshua continued, unsure of himself as well. "It gets too quiet, and uh, silence gets pretty uncomfortable for me."

She gave him one look and spared a few seconds for her thoughts before she returned him with a reply. "Well, your manager told me its best you're not even seen by anyone at all, for your safety."

Of course he did. Joshua didn't doubt that, and he understood those orders completely, so he just nodded, accepting defeat. Worth a try though.

But she wasn't quite finished. She pulled her phone out of her coat pocket, checked her screen for a while before coming back to him. "I can stay with you and chat if it helps," she grinned. "People call me a chatterbox, so why not put it to good use, right?"

"Are you not busy?" Joshua asked, pretty set aback by her suggestion, but was not against it.

She shook her head, swaying her bangs left and right before giving him a reassuring smile. "Not if nobody's calling for me. You're actually free to go after this drip," she points at the hanging liquid with the notes on her hand, "All you have to do is wait for your manager to pick you up. After all, your fever did go down, and we'll give you acetaminophens to take. What you really need is food and rest."

While the rest of the people in the room looked at her weirdly at her offer to be a chatterbox, she paid no mind to it and grabbed herself a chair to sit on by Joshua's bed. Joshua, on the other hand, just nodded numbly, unsure of what kind of reaction he should give, or what words to say. He had no reason to refuse, though, so he said nothing.

"You guys can go," she dismissed the nurses who followed immediately, and the security guard simply eyed her for a few seconds before returning to his post. She was the assigned doctor, after all, he couldn't (and shouldn't) restrict her from her patient.

Once they all left, Joshua blurted the question that had been sitting on the tip of his tongue. "So, do you stay to chat with all the patients you meet?"

She settled in her seat and gave him an ambiguous smile - one Joshua understood to not be completely genuine, but wasn't fake either. "Just the ones that seem particularly lonely."

"And," Joshua paused, picking his words carefully. "You don't have other lonely patients?"

She chuckled. Pressing her fist on her cheeks, she rephrased his question for him, "You mean why aren't I busy treating other patients?" The question stunned him for a while. He didn't expect her to be that direct, especially to her patient; but to be honest, he didn't mind it one bit.

Usually, when this kind of situation happened - where a conversation turned too straightforward for him to handle, Joshua would've chuckled awkwardly and politely, and just nodded or something to move on from the discomfort. But this time, he didn't know if it was because his head was still revolving, or if it was because he'd spent too much time with Jeonghan, but he didn't take the polite route and just directly returned her question with another one. He simply nodded. "Yeah, sure, if you care to tell?"

The response wasn't one she was used to receiving, so she was a bit flustered at the blunt exchange for a few seconds. "Huh," she huffed, but smiled. "I guess I'm assigned to do the extra stuff. Nobody wants to talk to patients and their guardians if its nothing medical related. Doctors are awkward that way. They prefer to research, write papers, and explore surgeries. And so they pushed me here," she gestured to the room around her. "To the VIP wards."

Before Joshua could take offense into her words, she disclaimed, "Not that you're 'extra stuff', but you must understand that some VIP patients can be," she gave him an awry grin, one that was indicating something negative, as she searched for the right word. She didn't seem to find one, but eventually settled with the description: "Exhilarating," which she worded with a shoulder shrug, indicating that it wasn't the correct word at all.

Joshua just laughed at her antics, wondering if the medical dramas about VIP patients actually happen in real life that she would describe them that way. "Would you say I'm - well - exhilarating, then?"

At this point, her smile was no longer ambiguous. Looking like she was in deep thought, she answered, "You're a different kind of exhilarating." Her dimples further accentuated the honesty in her smile. "I mean, obviously, you're well aware that you have got the looks," she reasoned, not at all embarrassed to compliment him, which was different for a change - but a good different.

"That I do," Joshua grinned. He was an idol, after all, he should be confident in his visuals.

"And you're young - not many VIPs are as young," she continued, still thinking of more answers. "And most people would've reprimanded me for speaking so casually and bluntly to a patient about her work. They'd say I was rude."

Joshua snickered. "Should I, then? Reprimand you, I mean?"

Her eyes rounded at his statement, and then she suddenly clasped her hands together and bowed her head. "I would reaaally, reaaaally appreciate it if you don't."

He laughed. This girl is really something.

"What was your name, again? Can I call you by name?" Joshua asked, visibly more comfortable.

And she returned him with another ambiguous smile.

---

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aunty-tiger-potato · 3 years

Note

Thank u for the kind words 💖💖 I have to eat mostly liquids this week so I’ve had some soups (mostly alphabet soup and miso soup) I am so down for soup suggestions !!

Omg I was just recently watching True Beauty too ! I love it so much I relate to the main character 💔 there’s another similar show with Cha Eunwoo in it too called My ID is Gangnam Beauty ! I’d suggest it because it’s pretty light hearted and fun but it also has like sad moments since it mostly revolves insecurities and bullying :(

I think I would have to go with Hoshi singing practice because it would literally just be me trying to sing, him saying I did amazing, and then slapping a bunch of auto tune on it 🧍‍♀️Seungkwan would probably say one thing I did wrong and I would maybe burst into tears

OKAY HEAR ME OUT now I’m no cheater but I would rather cheat and beat jeonghan than argue with Minghao 😭😭 I’m not a fast thinker so I would probably stutter the whole time and never get to any point if we argued

I don’t think I’m the best cook 👩‍🍳 and mingyu is like Korean gordon Ramsey at this point so cooking with Jun it is 😍 and Jun would probably make it so fun too but 2 geminis in the kitchen is not a good idea 🧍‍♀️

This one is so hard …. Bcs I love making bracelets too … but I’d love to have one made for me 💔 I think I’d prefer Josh make me a bracelet bcs it frame it <3

- 🦕 anon

wait, i've never heard of alphabet soup before lol, is it good? maybe i should try it too, miso soup is delicious yumm. yess i made onion soup yesterday, i love onion soup, egg drop soup, oxtail soup. but i mostly eat ox bone soup which my grandmother makes 🥺

yess i did watch my id is gangnam beauty, srsly i just watched it because of Eunwoo XDDD i also kinda wanted to watch rookie historian? idk if it's good tho...is it?

wait, actually that sounds so much fun, just coming up with random lyrics abt moja XDD n singing it with autotune. lol Seungkwan i think would be a strict teacher

lol me neither, Minghao would roast me to flames n i cheat in games too sometimes soo beating Jeonghan would be fun XDD.

honestly i love cooking, so cooking for Mingyu would be nice especially if he loves the food :'). n i just wanna cook with Jun, i mean he can cook quite nicely too so it'd be fun, lmao yes geminis together is always chaotic XDD

aww ik if Joshua made me a bracelet, i'd melt into a puddle. but making it with him would also be nice, just laughing, choosing beads n making bracelets <33

Also i hope ur resting well <3 alsooo did u see that new seventeen bias swap challange hosted by @shuaway and @seungkwns? im gonna participate, here is a link if ur interested :)

#caratanonevent3 #dino anon #🦕 anon #ask

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hopelessromanticspoonie · 4 years

Text

Trust

Masterlist here

Characters: Tom Hiddleston and Female Novelist Reader

Summary: Finding just the right actor to star in the movie based on your book wasn't an easy process. And then Tom Hiddleston walked into the room, and he may solve more than just your casting concerns.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption

Word Count: 4.2k (whoops)

A/N: This is based off a request given to me by @yespolkadotkitty! I apologize that I haven’t posted in a long while and that this took a minute to get out, but I hope you enjoy it! ALSO. I know nothing about the film industry. Please ignore what I’m sure are several errors concerning that topic.

“Next!”

“He was really good. You sure you didn’t like him?”

You closed your eyes and dropped your forehead onto your hand supported by your elbow on the folding table in front of you. When you had been contacted by your agent that a studio wanted to turn your best-selling novel into a movie, it felt like a dream come true. A whirlwind of paid flights, lunch meetings, negotiations, and signed contracts led you to your spot next to the casting director, several producers, and director for the movie. You were lucky that they were taking your opinion into consideration at all, and you didn’t want to create waves, but there hadn’t been a man reading for the main role yet that felt right.

From several one-note actors to a few who were way off the mark to those who showed up completely unprepared, nobody had made you feel the gripping tension of the troubled but earnest character of Joshua Collins, the struggling artist and male half of your romantic tale.

“Hello, my name is Tom Hiddleston, and I’d like to audition for the role of Joshua Collins.”

That voice. Sophistication roughened with the barest hint of anxiety and smoothed out by a full baritone that dripped honey. Your head popped up from your hand to take in the sheepishly grinning man in front of you. He was tall, so tall that it took an eternity for your eyes to drag from the worn boots on his feet, up the slim legs expertly encased in blue slacks, over the broad chest that strained at the thin fabric of his light blue button-up shirt, to a face that had to have been sculpted by the finest craftsmen with planes and shadows to highlight his arresting stare.

The lines that he read through with a producer’s assistant sounded as if they came straight from your creative imaginings. He was Joshua. The ability he had to convey such emotion with the tilt of his head, the press of his lips, or even the very act of taking a breath to sustain his speech was enough to render you utterly transfixed. Even the silence that fell over the room as he gathered his thoughts for a response had you tense and gripping your pen until your knuckles lightened as you waited with bated breath for a reply you had memorized before he’d strolled in. But with him it was new, organic, somehow spontaneous and heartfelt and so true it resonated deep in your bones.

And then he stood from the chair he had fallen into with an easy, relieved smile on his face as he smoothed his hand down the front of his shirt. “Thank you all for sharing your time with me today. And, if I may,” he shifted his attention from the studio bigwigs to you, “I absolutely adored the raw humanity in your novel. I hope that I can bring it to life for you.”

The sound of the door closing seemed to break the spell that had fallen over the room. You shared a knowing look first with the casting director and then the director herself.

“Joe, please tell those remaining that auditions have been canceled,” Sam smiled, scribbling something in her portfolio in front of her. “We have our man.”

Had you picked up all of the loose bits of trash scattered around your room? Sure, the staff had cleaned that morning, but that didn’t mean that you hadn’t found some way to dirty it since then. Would bottled water be okay? Maybe he preferred coffee. Hotel coffee wasn’t ever the greatest, but it would do in a pinch. Right? And should you have put on nicer clothes? Maybe-

A light, rhythmic knock sounded on your door, stopping your anxious thoughts and making you freeze from where you were bent over making sure the hem of your jeans wasn’t rolled over.

Another knock, and you quickly righted yourself, running your hand over your hair to tame any flyaways as you scurried to the door. Tom stood on the other side, holding two beers in one hand and a thick leather folio in the other.

“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me before rehearsals begin. May I come in?”

As if anyone would turn down Tom Hiddleston, especially when he came bearing beer. You stepped to the side, allowing him to pass by, leaving behind the very masculine scent of bergamot and citrus in the air that stirred between you. “Of course. You look like you’re ready to attend a class or something.”

He placed everything down on the tiny table meant to be a desk before turning to you with a small smile. His large hands rubbed against his jeans on the outside of his thighs. “Admittedly, I am a bit of a fan of your writing. An avid fan, actually. I was hoping that you wouldn’t mind too terribly if we discussed the book? I want to ensure I fully bring this character to life as you so masterfully wrote it.”

Color you shocked. Sure, you had received plenty of praise for your book throughout this process, the paycheck was evidence enough that it was liked, but to have someone that you personally admired for their own set of talents compliment it was another thing entirely. Working to school your face so that your excitement didn’t show, you grabbed the beer he opened and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Ask away, Mr. Hiddleston.”

Draping his long and lithe form into the faded desk chair, he opened his folio and uncapped a pen that looked more expensive than the entirety of your outfit. “Tom, please. We will be working closely together, and we are neighbors in this hotel as well. Formalities are not necessary.”

“Okay,” you nodded and took a swig of liquid courage. “Tom, what would you like to know?”

Questions and answered flowed easily after a few stuttering moments on both sides of the conversation. You were only struck dumb once or twice from the intensity of his thoughtful stare, and you found yourself both grateful and saddened when it would leave you to focus on the copious notes he scribbled down in the folio on his thigh. You’d never felt so heard as to when he watched you ramble on about plot points and motivation and character development, with his hand rasping against the five o’clock shadow that darkened his razor-sharp jawline and his brows furrowed.

Only when you stifled a yawn behind your hand did he seem to pull himself from the focused notes he had been taking after you explained a more difficult aspect of Joshua’s past. He glanced at the leather-strapped watch on his arm, frowning. “I do believe that I have kept you up far too late. I apologize. I should be going so that you may rest for overseeing rehearsals tomorrow. You will be there, correct?”

“I think so, yeah. Unless I’m needed for consultation on a last-minute script change, I think that’s where I’m supposed to be. I’m not really sure how all of this works,” you admitted with a light laugh.

He walked with you to the door after tossing both his and your bottles in the trash and gathering his things that had spread out over the desk. “If you have any questions, do not hesitate to ask. I know how overwhelming all of this can be. Until then, I very much look forward to seeing you. Goodnight.”

The clasp of his hand on your shoulder was heavy, stretching across your skin with a pleasant warmth that you wanted to curl into and bask in forever. You reached up and patted his hand gently before opening the door. “Goodnight.”

Sure enough, when you watched him head back to his room in the hotel meant to house you for the entirety of the filming project, he disappeared into the room directly next to yours.

The faint scent of his cologne lingered on your clothing as you ducked back into your room to prepare yourself as best as you could for the unknown journey ahead.

In all your days, you’d never met someone as motivated and driven as Tom. When he wasn’t rehearsing, he was exercising, or building comradery between the cast and crew that he would be spending the next year with, or even, to your astonishment, spending time with you.

It had begun under the guise of him delving deep into his character with you over beers and room service. Then it had switched to other books in your catalog, and then, when you had begged off any serious thinking because you’d spent all day arguing with the writers, it changed into something more personal.

You walked onto set holding two travel tumblers precariously with one arm and your overstuffed binder in the other. A meeting with your agent that morning discussing the press tour preceding the premiere of the movie had gone on longer than expected, and you couldn’t wait to sit down and just watch Tom and the cast act out the inner workings of your imagination over the coffee you clutched. The idea of going for so many interviews and appearances weighed heavily on you. To be the object of so much attention wasn’t why you had gone into writing.

But, perhaps this was.

Tom looked quite frustrated as he talked to Sam, the director, in the middle of the set, about a pivotal point in the film where he admits his love to the female lead (who does not feel the same), and he barely glanced your way as you settled in. His hands flew in front of him with every gesture, fingers spread wide and then clenched tightly into fists at his side. Some conclusion must have been reached because Sam came back to her spot behind the monitors and Tom got into place.

It was obvious to everyone that something was off. You especially, as the dialogue didn’t fit what you had written with the screenwriters for the scene. After the cameras stopped rolling so Sam could talk to Tom once again, whose performance had been stilted and unnatural, you turned to your assistant with a frown heavily etched into your skin. “Was there a rewrite?”

She didn’t even look up from the email she was typing away on her phone. “Yes, ma’am. Just given to everyone this morning. I sent it to your email.”

Groaning quietly, you slipped your coffee and belongings into pockets on the sides of your chair and stood up, holding Tom’s tea in your hand. When you caught his eye you raised it in the air and he nodded. He could come get a drink from it when he had a moment.

That moment came much faster than you expected. He held up one finger to Sam, and you barely caught him plead, “Let me take a drink before we run it again,” before he jogged over to you.

“What’s going on?” you asked, offering him the steaming tea and crossing your arms over your stomach.

He took a deep drink and sighed, closing his eyes to savor the flavor and moment of peace before opening them to look wearily down at you. Irritation lived in the lines between his brows and in the press of his lips together. “The rewrites simply don’t feel like Joshua. I don’t feel as if they line up with his motivations. I-” he sighed heavily, dropping his chin to his chest and putting his free hand on his hip.

You stepped closer to him so that he was forced to meet the determined set of your eyes. Of its own accord, your hand reached out and grasped his. He returned the tight grip and your heart squeezed right along with it. Not the time.

“You know him. You’ve brought him to life and fleshed him out into a fuller being than my words ever did. I-”

“Don’t sell yourself short. You’re immensely talented,” he interjected.

“I’m not. I’m praising your talent. I’ll go fight Sam if I have to, to just get one take like it was written before they changed it. That’s all I can probably get you. Can you do it?”

He took a bracing sip of his tea before handing the travel mug back to you. Gratitude reflected in the stormy blue of his eyes. “I can. Thank you.”

And then he jogged off back to the set, speaking quietly with the female lead, Mary, about the plan. Which left you to face Sam, hopefully, to throw around what little bit of weight you had. In all honesty, she could put a stopper on the whole situation and force Tom to follow the rewrites. But he was watching you with such hope and support that it bolstered your confidence enough to set down his drink and go over to her.

“What’s going on?”

Sam was a fierce woman, having clawed her way up through the ranks to get her position, and it was easy to want to cower under the steel of her stare. Taking a deep breath, you held out your hands at your sides. “The rewrites aren’t working, Sam. He knows it, Mary knows it, and I know it. Can we just try it the way it was written before? Even if it doesn’t work like we hope, then he’ll have gotten it out of his system and we can move on with shooting.”

She studied you, pinning you to the spot as you tried desperately not to fidget while waiting for her verdict. She maintained eye contact when she shouted to the remarkably silent cast and crew, “One take with the old lines and blocking.”

The knowledge that your reputation was very much on this decision weighed heavily on your shoulders as you nodded your thanks before heading back to your chair. Getting situated, you cradled your coffee in your hands and inhaled the calming aroma as you watched everyone scurry around to get ready for the slight change in blocking and places.

And then action was called, and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as Tom’s heart was broken and shattered into a million pieces at Mary’s rejection. The anguish he expressed through ragged breaths and glistening eyes was enough to make you want to run from your place and gather him into the safety of your arms in a futile attempt to put him back together. The scene went on naturally after it was meant to finish, Sam not calling cut, and he collapsed into a heap on his knees and ripped the sketchbook before him to shreds before letting out a scream of pain that would haunt you for the rest of your days.

“Cut.”

An intern ran onto the set and handed Tom several tissues, which he took with a watery smile. Every muscle in your body tensed as you waited for Sam’s reaction.

“Reset. Tom, take a moment and collect yourself. Frank, make sure that you’re tighter on his face right after she turns him down. Lisa, good idea on the sketchbook. Get the rest that you have. Good work, people.”

Tom stood up and was instantly surrounded by hair and makeup to fix the mess that he’d made of himself with his heartfelt performance. But, over their bobbing heads, he managed to look at you and mouth, “Thank you.”

The happiness and relief that soared through your veins were more exhilarating than coffee would ever be.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Your fingers stilled over your laptop, the words of your latest piece of fiction ceasing in your head at the peculiar sound. Did someone just knock on your wall? Surely the sounds of your quiet music weren’t too loud.

Knock. Knock.

Hesitantly, you twisted in your bed, pressing your ear to the thin beige wall, and rapped against it three times. When there wasn’t an answering knock, you turned around and pressed your back against your pile of pillows to continue tapping away at what you hoped could possibly be another movie brought to life.

And then the same steady knocks sounded on the door to your hotel room. Confused, you closed your laptop and set it to the side, padding to the door in your pajamas. You opened the door with a confused frown to see Tom standing on the other side, holding a covered tray from room service, exhaustion living in the slump of his shoulders and pull on the corners of his mouth.

“On occasion, I find it hard to wind down after filming. Since you’re awake, I was hoping we could share this piece of chocolate cake and chat a bit?”

Suddenly very shy at your mismatched pajamas and air-dried hair from your shower, you blushed, waving him inside. “How can I turn down cake?”

You closed the door behind him and sent a silent prayer to whoever was listening that you had remembered to pick up your dirty clothes from earlier in the day. Turning around, you found Tom sitting cross-legged on the bed, chocolate crumbs on his lips that you longed to clean with your own. “Were you writing? I can leave. I don’t want to disturb you?”

“Nonsense. The ideas are in my notes. I can always make time for you, especially if you ply me with sweets.” You crawled onto the bed next to him and snagged the fork from his hand, taking a bite. “You sure know a way to a girl’s heart.”

His face softened as he nudged your knee with his. “You think very highly of me. On that note, thank you, today, for believing in me.”

“Of course. You are the most talented man I’ve ever met. I trust your gut.”

The rest of the cake was eaten in relative silence, your eyes chasing each other in fleeting glances that had your heart racing in your chest. There was something much more intimate about sharing a dessert in your pajamas, on your bed, than your other late-night meetings in your room. Was it the electric brush of his fingers over yours when you passed the fork to him, or the knowledge that your lips were touching where his had only moments ago? Would he taste like the rich dessert you shared?

Yearning for the charismatic man had grown in you since that first meeting at his audition. How could it not? He was kind, seeking to meet and know every person he interacted with on set. You were not the exception, as your late-night meetings had proved. His intelligence knew no bounds, and you had put it to the test with rousing discussions from everything to literature to current events to Shakespeare to politics. And the fondness that you caught in his gaze from time to time set a warmth alight in your bones that you wanted to live in for the rest of your days. Every brush of his body against yours had you aware of the heat he left behind for hours, and you had long ago imprinted the feeling of his lips upon your cheek in a quick greeting kiss into your memory.

You must have been staring during your descent into your hopelessly pining thoughts, as he was watching you closely with an eyebrow quirked in silent question, when you pulled yourself from your reverie.

“Sorry,” you shook your head, blinking the madness of your wishes away. “Long day. What’d you say?”

“I said that you have a bit of chocolate on your face. Would you like me to get it for you?” he asked quietly.

He didn’t wait for an answer. His thumb brushed against your cheek, sending the smallest shiver down your spine, before he pulled the digit into his mouth. The silence that stretched beneath his darkened gaze held you frozen to the spot. Your face burned where he had fleetingly touched you.

“Were it not for professionalism…” he murmured, a hint of anguish in his voice as his eyes traveled down your face to settle on your parted lips.

How was it possible that you felt like a schoolgirl again? Your heart hammered in your chest so loudly that it seemed impossible to take a deep enough breath to stop your head from spinning. You shifted on the bed, closer to him, peering up at him through your lashes. “You’d?”

He sighed and scrubbed his hand over the back of his neck before lighting it on your face. Holding you still, he leaned forward, pressing his lips against your cheek in a lingering kiss that had your stomach clench in anticipation. Your hands dug into the scratchy duvet beneath you to keep from resting on his abdomen to see if he had the same reaction to the tension that stretched between you like a livewire.

He left one more kiss on your temple, breathing you in and stroking your jawline with his thumb, before pulling away and standing up from the bed with a groan. “You are temptation personified. It would be an injustice to us both if any romantic notions got in the way of your brilliant storytelling. After, though…”

The promise in his lowered voice and the inferno of his eyes was enough to temporarily sate you as you watched him walk out of the door with a shake of his head. Writing for that evening was out of the question as you fell asleep with the remnants of his touch warm on your skin and his cologne perfuming your sheets.

“Did you hear the news?”

You turned from where you were scrolling through your phone at the filming wrap party, perking up at the liquid velvet voice that broke through the terrible house music Sam had requested from the DJ. Tom leaned his shoulder against the very wall that currently propped you up, his head tilted to the side in a way that had your belly fluttering like mad.

“News?”

His hands shoved into the pockets of his navy blazer. “We’ll be on the press tour together, for the movie. The studio wanted someone paired up with you that had a bit more experience with such matters, and I volunteered. I guess you aren’t rid of me yet.”

“As if I’d want such a thing,” you admitted with a quiet laugh. Any anxieties that you'd had about making an idiot of yourself for the worldwide press tour were now replaced with doing the very same, but perhaps now you'd be caught ogling Tom while he waxed on about the movie. Or perhaps you'd simply go mad spending so much time with him in close quarters while jet setting across the globe. Was there time for romantic interludes when you were answering the same twenty questions in twenty different countries?

He stood up straight and offered his arm with a cheeky grin, “At the risk of removing the woman of the hour from the party, would you accompany me outside for a bit of fresh air?”

The mischief that twinkled in his eyes was impossible to ignore. You slipped your hand into the crook of his elbow. “Says the leading man of the movie and an actual ray of sunshine. Lead on.”

The bar that they’d rented for the evening opened out onto a busy street that replaced the booming music with honking horns and bustling crowds hurrying home. His arm fell to hang at his side, and he caught your hand with his and laced your fingers together before pulling you behind a bit of greenery out front that hid you from prying eyes both inside and outside.

“Along with attending the press tour with you, I was hoping I could accompany you to the premiere?” he asked, leaned against the roughened brick wall behind him, tugging you closer until you stood in between his spread legs. The chilled wind was most unwelcome at your back, but the warmth of the man in front of you was more than enough to make the stolen privacy comfortable.

Your free hand picked a bit of lint from his crimson sweater before stilling, connected to his ribs by just your pointer finger and thumb, drawn into his heat with the bite of the winter air through your thin party dress. “You know what they’ll say.”

Tom was an incredibly private man, and it might create more talk than he’d want to deal with to show up with a date. You’d love more than anything to spend the evening on his arm, basking in his charismatic glow, but not if it caused him any headache or heartache.

His breath, scented with bittersweet alcohol, fanned across your face as his hand settled onto your hip. That simple touch branded your goose-bump covered skin and had you leaned into him until you had to crane your head backward to meet his tender stare. “That I was chivalrous in escorting the novelist who allowed me the opportunity to embody her treasured characters? That it was very thoughtful of me to ensure that you didn’t feel tossed to the sharks for your first red carpet event?”

With just the drop of his chin, his forehead leaned against yours. “Say yes?”

The nudge of his nose along yours, the rub of his thumb over the thin skin on the back of your hand, the push of his leanly muscled chest against yours with every breath, gave you enough courage to close your eyes and touch your lips to his in the kiss that had been denied you months ago. He groaned softly into your parted lips, releasing his hold on you to press his hands over the curve of your backside so you were flush against him. Fire scorched at your insides from the tease of his tongue and you tumbled headfirst into the passion that he finally stoked to life after it had been smoldering between you for so very long.

“Yes,” you replied breathlessly against his jaw, pulling away to draw air into your tortured lungs, kneading your fingers gently over his rapidly beating heart.

Leaning against him, with his arms wrapped around you so that your face found a comfortable home in the smooth column of his throat, you closed your eyes and gave in to the enticing man that had caught your attention so very long ago. With Tom by your side, and perhaps even in your bed, you were safe in the knowledge that you wouldn’t have to navigate this new world alone.

Tidbit of Tom taglist: @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore @ladyblablabla

Whole Shebang taglist: @just-the-hiddles @yespolkadotkitty @nonsensicalobsessions @vodka-and-some-sass @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @myoxisbroken @brokenthelovely @myworddump @polireader @wiczer @littleredstarfish @the-broken-angel-13 @arch-venus25 @xxloki81xx @jessiejunebug @tinchentitri @sllooney @devilbat @vikkleinpaul @bouquet-o-undercaffeinated-roses @angelus80 @wolfsmom1 @kthemarsian @toozmanykids @claritastantrum @princerowanwhitethorngalathynius @sabine-leo @lovesmesomehiddles @peterman-spideyparker @wegingerangelica @bluefrenchfries604 @catsladen @snoopy3000 @silverswordthekilljoy @villainousshakespeare @kitkatd7

#imagine tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston/reader #tom hiddleston oneshot #tom hiddleston rpf #fluff #yespolkadotkitty #trust #hopelesswrites

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jihoonluvclub · 5 years

Text

Promises (M)

About: Drawn to the lake outside your home since you were little, you’ve encountered creatures in the water pulling you in. You meet one from you past on a rainy night looking for his mate. Pairing: Siren!Joshua x Reader Genre: Smut Warning: Explicit content, breeding, cream pie, sea creature sex Word Count: 3.2k

There was a steady fall of rain against your window, as it had been for the past week, leaving you stuck inside with nothing to do. You cleaned, you watched tv, you cleaned again, and still there was nothing left to occupy your time. You were stuck inside of your small town, the entrances to the city being flooded out by the constant water fall.

Your hometown was usually busy at this time, many people wanting to visit the large lake and river attached to it but over the years people have stopped coming by. Businesses shut down and people moved away. The tales of demons and creatures in the water warding off any potential visitors.

You knew the real reason that most people moved, the flooding. It would pour so badly water would almost reach your doorstep. Most of the younger couples in town didn’t want to deal with the water repairs or being trapped in by the rain, so they left. You stayed in your hometown, prepping food and water supplies for weeks worth of using just incase the weather left you stuck.

You had to admit, ever since you were little you enjoyed the tales of mythical creatures living just outside of your home. You dreamed of one day swimming off with mermaids, to be given the ability to breath underwater, to communicate with the humans that lived under the lake.

Ever since you were old enough, you would go out on your own and swim through the water, searching for your fin-clad friends. You would spend whole summers in the water, quietly hoping something would take you from your boring repetitive life at school and home. No one believed you when you had first claimed to see something, a shimmering tail emerging from the water and inky black hair floating along the surface before diving back down.

You would sit on the edge of the docks, drawing and watching, waiting for more movement to show everyone. One by one, people said no, that you were just seeing things. But you knew, and you continued to swim that lake, determined to understand all the secrets hiding inside the blue water.

Only one other time did you see something, years and years later, that time you kept it to yourself. You would swim at night when you couldn’t fall asleep. After a restless night you went to the lake, hoping the movement and coolness of the water would rest your mind. And with a gasp you noticed something out in the middle of the water. Too far out for even you to swim, you felt in your heart that it was not just another person.

It looked like a man, maybe your age, with messy hair that glimmering grey and silver under the moonlight. His eyes were almost as black and shining as the water he emerged from. You were frightened but entranced, excited to have finally seen something in the water after so long. You waded towards the figure, but soon enough they dove back down, leaving your sight for good.

You tapped your fingers against the windowsill in your bedroom, staring out into the lake. You felt like you needed to be there. The rain was letting up, for the time being at least, bolstering your need to being in the water. You changed into a long raincoat with your swim clothes underneath. The fall weather had not come yet, making the lake still bearable at night.

You walked down your backyard, opening the gate that lead straight to the pier. The rain wasn’t as bothersome as you thought it would be. You ran down to the water, leaving your dress on the wooden platform before splashing the liquid on your skin, hoping to acclimate your body to the temperature drop.

It was almost midnight, leaving you to be the only one awake in the whole neighborhood. You dipped into the water, shoes and raincoat left behind. Being surrounded by the water was soothing, calming down your restless mind.

Your heart jumped when you saw a flash of something white out in the lake. There was no lightning, not even thunder in the skies. Where had that come from? Before your eyes could adjust to the dark again, a figure with dark eyes and silver hair moved towards you. You were terrified until you focused on the figure once more. Those eyes, that hair, you knew this figure. After so many years, you could still remember that face.

You waved at the dark form moving closer, unsure if you were actually seeing what you thought that you were. It dove under the dark blanket of water, out of sight once again. You sighed, unable to hide your disappointment. You scared him off once again. It will take years to see something like that again, if you ever do.

Suddenly you felt something move towards you, the water pushing and pulling near your legs. You felt something brush against you thigh and it took everything inside of you to not scream in shock. Whoever, or whatever, it was that touched you brought their head up from the depth of the water and looked back at you.

Your chest heaved, shock and awe filling your face as you took in the delicate features of the man before you. He looked impossibly beautiful, eyes glimering like the galaxy, two iridescent silver fins sticking out from the edge of his ears. His lips were rosy and plump, jaw sharp and angular.

He reached down and grabbed your hand, pulling you forward. He moves within the water faster than you expected, urging you to cling onto him tighter as he sliced through the tension of the lake. You briefly thought out the old tales of sirens and other such creatures, the stories of them devouring humans or hypnotizing them to their death.

You two made it to the lakeshore on the other side of the water, a sandy embankment where he perches you on. His arms rest on the sand, his head laying on top of them as he gazed at you. You finally noticed more of his body, only visible from the bright shine of the moon.

His arms were long and lithe, short fins emerged from the muscles of his arms. Your eyes tried to trail down his back but the rest of his body was still submerged in the water. You realized you were staring, and soon enough you felt the way his eyes stared at you. You cleared your throat, hoping you could speak with him.

“Hello?” You were unsure if he could understand you. He blinked and tilted his head to the side, his neutral expression betraying no emotion. You feel your heart jump to your throat again when he opened his mouth and revealed a row of teeth, almost human but pointed at the ends.

“Hello.” His voice was light and silky, the kind that could gently persuade you to do anything he wanted. Your heart pounded in your chest, aware of the potential danger he could being you. Aware of the seclusion of your environment. Aware that no one else was around, just the two of you. Your feet unconsciously dug into the sand.

“I thought you had stopped coming by.” His gaze shifted across your body and back to your eyes.

“You… you know me?” Perhaps this really was the same creature, the one you’d seen so long ago. Something in you hoped that was true.

“Yes. I’ve watched you for a long time. I saw you once when you were younger and I was as well, yet you didn’t scream or try to harm me. I’ve watched you come to the lake since then.”

You were drawn into his soothing voice but jumped when the water splashed behind him, giving you a flash of the tail you’d grown so familiar with seeing in the water. Your hand raised as if to touch him and you quickly drew back as he did too.

“I’m sorry.” You say, feeling your face flush with embarrassment. You shouldn’t have done that, and you move to back away until he raises his own hand towards you slowly.

“I’ve been warned to stay away from humans, that they only want to hurt us. You seem different.” He paused for a moment, slowly moving his hand across the sand towards you. “You may call me Joshua. What can I call you?”

Tentatively, you move your fingers closer to his, stopping once they touch. They felt cool. You said your name, and he repeated it, the sound rolling from his tongue easily as if he’d said it a hundred times before. He flexed his fingertips against yours before he slipped his fingers between your own, letting out a deep hum.

“Joshua,” you stammer. The fact that you had just met him and the way you were following his every word and touch had your heart racing in a mix of fear and excitement. Perhaps the rumors were true, that these creatures killed humans without remorse. “Why did you show up now?” You hold your breath; afraid he might turn on you, turn into the creature people feared.

His fingers slid from yours down to your wrist, easily wrapping around the flesh. “I can feel how fast your heart is racing,” he speaks through the silence. “Have you found a mate yet?”

“A what? A mate?” You concluded that he had no idea what he meant by that, the question repeating in your head as his touch grew warmer. But the look in his eyes told you that he knew exactly what he was asking.

“No. Umm… That’s not really how humans work. I guess...” He tilts his head to the side and one of his ear fins twitches. It’s almost cat like, cute under any other circumstance. “Normally, we get to know each other first. We court each other, if that makes sense.”

“Hmm,” he drawls. “For us, mating comes first.” There’s a moment of silence between the both of you. Then he hauled more of himself out of the water, revealing a muscled chest that tapered off into an even wider tail.

You had only seen his tail from far away, never able to see the full beauty of it. There was a deep ‘V’ where the scales of his tail started to form under his abdomen. Joshua’s tail was silver like the rest of his fins, each scale shining in a ray of purple and pink hues. He was breathtaking.

“I have been watching you for so long though. You are perfect for me.” Joshua snaked his arms around you, pulling you across the sand as he laid his head in your lap.

You tried to calm yourself down, unsure of what to do. Even with half of his body out of the water, you had yet to see the end of his tail. He was much larger than you and more beautiful than you could have imagined. Raindrops still splattered against your skin, cooling down you flushed skin.

“I would never force you, not when you are special to me. But I would like you to be my mate.”

“I don’t even know if I can give you what you want.” You answer unsure of how ‘mating’ with someone, something, like him would even work.

His eyes widened for a moment, rolling off of you onto his back. He shyly looked down his body, a slit emerging from between two scales on his tail. An appendage, smooth and pink peeking through. Your eyes trailed between his tail and his heaving chest. “Oh,” you breach out as Joshua reached out towards you.

“I want you.” He states, already sounded breathless. His fingers link with yours. “If you will mate with me… or at least try.. Touch me first. I do not want to scare you.”

You move closer after a moment of hesitation. Your hand grazed along his chest, his skin feeling slick and cold, similar to his hands. Biting down on your lip you moved your hands lower. Each movement of your hands had him panting and whining out. Joshua was far more sensitive than you would have expected for a creature so big.

“Lower,” He breathed out, “please.”

You followed his commands, running your fingertips over the shifted scales below his abdomen. He hissed out when your hand brushed over the tip of his member. Sharp teeth that could tear your throat out gleamed as he moaned out your name.

There was something arousing in making a creature as marvelous as him whimper out your name.

“Lower your hands,” he instructed with that soft voice that dripped like honey.

Your hand wraps around the pink length that seems to continue growing. It was slick, smoother than silk and pulsing in your palm. The more you pumped it in your hand the more of it emerged. You were at a loss for words when it moved and arched toward his stomach, full revealed to you. Just as large and grand as the rest of him.

The closer it was to the base of his tail the thicker it became. Tt was firm despite his ability to move it. It was unlike anything you had ever seen, yet it was undeniably appealing. A slick liquid began to drip from his tip when you experimentally pumped his shaft. “I’m ready.” Joshua took your hand from him and he met your eyes. “Please, will you mate with me?”

Nothing about your dreary rainy afternoon could have prepared you for this to have happened, but your swimsuit was off within seconds. All hesitation was gone the second he looked at your bare body.

“You are even more perfect than I imagined.” He said, and there was no hint of shame in his voice as he complimented you.

He slid into the water and beckoned you forward. You were suddenly struck with nerves. How the hell was this going to work? Noticing your hesitation, Joshua reached his arms forward. “Come. I will help you in.”

His earnest expression couldn’t mask the lust present in his eyes as his eyes trail over your body. It was enough to propel you forward and into his arms, squeaking as he effortlessly hoisted you into the water and against his body.

His cock brushed against your entrance, causing you to gasp and reach out in the water for something to grab onto. He hushed you, his large hand holding tightly onto your waist. “I’m not going to let you go.”

Joshua cradled you with one arm against him and trailed his other hand down your body, spending time brushing his fingers over your chest until you were whimpering against his shoulder. When he felt satisfied, his hand trailed lower to rub at your sex, working you open with one broad finger and gently rubbing until he could fit a second one in with ease.

“Joshua,” you moaned, desperate for more friction. He pressed his cool lips to your forehead and soothed a hand on your back. You find your words, leaning back to meet his deep black gaze. “I’m ready too.”

“Hold on to me.” His arms were wrapped securely around your waist, but you followed his command anyways, gripping his shoulders and leaning your forehead against his. A moment later you felt something slick pressing at your sex, sliding inside with ease. You groaned as Joshua pushed more of himself inside of your core. The sway of his tail underneath you was rocking you gently back and forth on him.

“Just a bit more,” Joshua grunted.

The flex of his cock made it easy for him to finally fill your core with his length, drawing out a loud whine from your throat. There was only a bit of a sting from the stretching before it subsided into a pleasant feeling of fullness.

“Perfect,” Joshua breathed, bending forward to capture your lips in a kiss. He tasted a little salty and you almost giggled from the strangeness of it all, but Joshua gave a tentative pump into you and you moaned into his mouth instead.

“You’re perfect,” he said again. Joshua started to increase his pace and held onto you to fuck you on his cock, easily maneuvering both of your bodies in the water.

You held on to his thick shoulders and rolled your head back in ecstasy. It felt better than you ever could have imagined. You were desperate to kiss him again but he towered over you even in the water, so you rolled your head forward instead, resting it on his chest, moaning against him.

The rain was still falling into the lake, having increased into a downpour, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care when Joshua’s hand slid down to start working your sex.

“Please,” you moaned into his chest, squirming in his grip. Joshua groaned loudly and increases his movements, his tail gyrating in the water to match his quickening pace. It only takes another moment for you to come undone on him, clenching around his cock and crying out his name as your orgasm came to a head in your lower half. Joshua moaned out your name and when you look up to meet his eyes it was clear he was looking down at you in adoration.

“I’m close,” Joshua grunted. “You’re going to take it all.”

“Yes,” you groaned, clinging to him tighter. Joshua growled and thrusted in deep before he stilled. You could feel his cock twitch inside of you, making pleasure continue to ripple through out your body.

“You’re my mate, I want you to have all of me.” He panted out, clinging on to you. You still against his hold, feeling his cock expand inside of you, pushing your walls to your limit.

Joshua soothes a hand down your back, as he had earlier. “I won’t hurt you.” You feel hot liquid fill you, multiple streams of release filling your walls. He mumbles words of comfort and praise to you all the while.

You are soon lifted off of him, cradled in his arms as he swam across the lake with you pressed against his chest. “You did so well.” Joshua hushed against the top of your head as he kissed your hair, rain droplets continuing to wet your hair.

“My mate,” he said, smiling as he rested you against the peer with your clothes ready for you. You were glad that you decided to leave in the rainstorm, but you were unclear on your future, what was going to happen now? For now, you just wanted to sleep, despite the rain falling against your skin.

With you clothes finally in place, you bent down from the pier capturing his lips in a kiss before saying your goodbyes . You watched as his tail fluttered against the water in fondness, just as you watched him drift back to the middle of the lake. He turned to you once more before diving under the water, “Promise me you will meet me again. Soon.”

You smiled at him, “I promise.”

#Joshua smut #joshua imagines #seventeen smut #seventeen imagines #joshua hong #joshua #writing tag #halloween 2019

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spacetimewithstuartgary · 3 years

Photo

Ships Passing in the Night More than 170 oil rigs stand in the North Sea, making it one of the world’s largest offshore oil and gas exploitation sites. The sea is also among the busiest areas in the world for ship traffic. Archaeology and history tell us that the North Sea has been an active area for maritime traders, sea battles, and explorers since at least 12 B.C. Today, the traffic include supply and recreation boats, fishing boats, and merchant ships traveling between ports in the North Sea and Baltic Sea. The region experiences significant traffic throughout the year. Some of the busiest shipping lanes are concentrated in the center of the sea, often traversed by supply vessels for offshore oil and gas platforms. Oil and gas extractions were first licensed in the North Sea in the 1960s. Five countries own oil rigs in the sea, although companies from the United Kingdom and Norway operate the majority of them. The products are a mixture of liquid oil and natural gas pulled from reservoirs under the sea. The image pair above shows lights from oil rigs and pathways of ships navigating between the rigs in the North Sea on March 2, 2021. The top image was acquired around 2:30 a.m. local time by the Visible Infrared Imaging Radiometer Suite (VIIRS) on the NOAA-NASA Suomi NPP satellite, using the day-night band (DNB). The DNB detects light in a range of wavelengths from green to near-infrared and uses filtering techniques to observe signals such as city lights, auroras, and reflected moonlight. The bottom image was taken around 12:50 local time by the Moderate Resolution Imaging Spectroradiometer (MODIS) on NASA’s satellite. The shipping lanes are traced out by “ship tracks”—narrow clouds brightened by small airborne pollution particles emitted from the vessels. Water vapor condenses around the tiny particles of pollution to form thin, winding clouds. Research shows that ship traffic increases the number of cloud droplets over shipping lanes, blocking some sunlight from reaching the ocean surface and creating local cooling events. Many rigs in the North Sea are expected to be decommissioned in coming years as European countries move toward other forms of energy. Some rigs will be pulled back to shore and dismantled, although some ecologists are suggesting some rigs remain as habitat for the marine life that has grown around them. NASA Earth Observatory images by Joshua Stevens, using VIIRS day-night band data from the Suomi National Polar-orbiting Partnership and MODIS data from NASA EOSDIS LANCE and GIBS/Worldview. Story by Kasha Patel.

#space #science #earth observatory #nasa #news #north sea

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apod · 4 years

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2020 April 18

Just Another Day on Aerosol Earth Model Visualization Credit: NASA Earth Observatory, GEOS FP, Joshua Stevens

Explanation: It was just another day on aerosol Earth. For August 23, 2018, the identification and distribution of aerosols in the Earth's atmosphere is shown in this dramatic, planet-wide digital visualization. Produced in real time, the Goddard Earth Observing System Forward Processing (GEOS FP) model relies on a combination of Earth-observing satellite and ground-based data to calculate the presence of types of aerosols, tiny solid particles and liquid droplets, as they circulate above the entire planet. This August 23rd model shows black carbon particles in red from combustion processes, like smoke from the fires in the United States and Canada, spreading across large stretches of North America and Africa. Sea salt aerosols are in blue, swirling above threatening typhoons near South Korea and Japan, and the hurricane looming near Hawaii. Dust shown in purple hues is blowing over African and Asian deserts. The location of cities and towns can be found from the concentrations of lights based on satellite image data of the Earth at night.

∞ Source: apod.nasa.gov/apod/ap200418.html

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dfroza · 3 years

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lost & found things

this is what we see in Today’s reading of the Scriptures from the New Testament book of Luke in chapter 15:

Jesus became increasingly popular among notorious sinners—tax collectors and other social outcasts. The Pharisees and religious scholars noticed this.

Pharisees and Religious Scholars: This man welcomes immoral people and enjoys their company over a meal!

Jesus (with another parable): Wouldn’t every single one of you, if you have 100 sheep and lose one, leave the 99 in their grazing lands and go out searching for the lost sheep until you find it? When you find the lost sheep, wouldn’t you hoist it up on your shoulders, feeling wonderful? And when you go home, wouldn’t you call together your friends and neighbors? Wouldn’t you say, “Come over and celebrate with me, because I’ve found my lost sheep”? This is how it is in heaven. They’re happier over one sinner who changes his way of life than they are over 99 good and just people who don’t need to change their ways of life.

Or imagine a woman who has 10 silver coins. She loses one. Doesn’t she light a lamp, sweep the whole house, and search diligently until that coin is found? And when she finds it, doesn’t she invite her friends and neighbors and say, “Celebrate with me! I’ve found that silver coin that I lost”? Can’t you understand? There is joy in the presence of all God’s messengers over even one sinner who changes his way of life.

Once there was this man who had two sons. One day the younger son came to his father and said, “Father, eventually I’m going to inherit my share of your estate. Rather than waiting until you die, I want you to give me my share now.” And so the father liquidated assets and divided them. A few days passed and this younger son gathered all his wealth and set off on a journey to a distant land. Once there he wasted everything he owned on wild living. He was broke, a terrible famine struck that land, and he felt desperately hungry and in need. He got a job with one of the locals, who sent him into the fields to feed the pigs. The young man felt so miserably hungry that he wished he could eat the slop the pigs were eating. Nobody gave him anything.

So he had this moment of self-reflection: “What am I doing here? Back home, my father’s hired servants have plenty of food. Why am I here starving to death? I’ll get up and return to my father, and I’ll say, ‘Father, I have done wrong—wrong against God and against you. I have forfeited any right to be treated like your son, but I’m wondering if you’d treat me as one of your hired servants?’” So he got up and returned to his father. The father looked off in the distance and saw the young man returning. He felt compassion for his son and ran out to him, enfolded him in an embrace, and kissed him.

The son said, “Father, I have done a terrible wrong in God’s sight and in your sight too. I have forfeited any right to be treated as your son.”

But the father turned to his servants and said, “Quick! Bring the best robe we have and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and shoes on his feet. Go get the fattest calf and butcher it. Let’s have a feast and celebrate because my son was dead and is alive again. He was lost and has been found.” So they had this huge party.

Now the man’s older son was still out in the fields working. He came home at the end of the day and heard music and dancing. He called one of the servants and asked what was going on. The servant said, “Your brother has returned, and your father has butchered the fattest calf to celebrate his safe return.”

The older brother got really angry and refused to come inside, so his father came out and pleaded with him to join the celebration. But he argued back, “Listen, all these years I’ve worked hard for you. I’ve never disobeyed one of your orders. But how many times have you even given me a little goat to roast for a party with my friends? Not once! This is not fair! So this son of yours comes, this wasteful delinquent who has spent your hard-earned wealth on loose women, and what do you do? You butcher the fattest calf from our herd!”

The father replied, “My son, you are always with me, and all I have is yours. Isn’t it right to join in the celebration and be happy? This is your brother we’re talking about. He was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found again!”

The Book of Luke, Chapter 15 (The Voice)

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 23rd chapter of the book of Job:

Job confided to his friends.

Job: So once again you are telling me my complaint amounts to rebellion,

that the heavy hand I feel upon me is smothering my groans?

Would that I knew where to find Him.

I would appear before Him.

I would lay my case out before Him;

I would fill up my mouth with arguments.

And then I would finally learn how He would answer me,

and I would understand what He tells me.

Would He oppose me merely with His great power? Surely not!

Surely He would show me the respect of listening to my argument.

There, in that courtroom, a moral man might hope to reason with Him,

and I would escape my Judge forever.

Alas, wherever I go, ahead or behind,

He is not there;

I am unable to find Him.

When He works on either side of me, I still cannot see Him.

I catch no glimpse of Him.

But He knows the course I have traveled.

And I believe that were He to prove me,

I would come out purer than gold from the fire.

My foot has been securely set in His tracks;

I have kept to His course of life without swerving;

I have not departed from the commands of His lips;

I have valued everything He says more than all else.

He alone is one True God; who can alter Him?

Whatever He desires within Himself, He does.

For He will carry out exactly what He has planned for me,

and in the future there are more plans to come.

Therefore, I am deeply troubled before Him;

when I ponder it at any length, I am terrified of Him.

Yes, God has melted my courage,

and the Highest One has overwhelmed me with His terror.

He could have turned me aside when the darkness came,

but He did not cut me off.

Nor does He hide my face from the gloom that has now overtaken me.

The Book of Job, Chapter 23 (The Voice)

my personal reading of the Scriptures for friday, April 30 of 2021 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible along with Today’s Proverbs and Psalms

A post by John Parsons that looks into our “rest”

It is written in our Scriptures: "Commit your way to the LORD, trust also in Him, and he will bring it to pass" (Psalm 37:5). In this verse, the word translated "commit" comes from the Hebrew root galal (גלל), which could be rendered as "roll away" or "heap upon" (the word gal means a heap or pile of stones). The LORD spoke this word when He said to Joshua, "This day have I rolled away (galal) the reproach of Egypt from off you" (Josh. 5:9) and named the place "Gilgal" (גִּלְגָּל), a word-play meaning a wheel or "rolling away." In great mercy the LORD "rolls away" the reproach of our sin.

The word galal can also mean to trust or to commit, with the connotation of "rolling one's trouble" away from oneself upon someone else who can help. Thus the Messiah entrusted (galal) His suffering unto the LORD (Psalm 22:8), and we are likewise encouraged to "commit" (galal) our way to his loving will. When we trust in His love, when we "roll away" the burden of our lives to His care, our thoughts will be "established" and we can freely enjoy the confidence that God Himself is directing our way (Prov. 16:9, Psalm 37:23). We can then experience genuine rest and shalom, despite the tumult of the world and its tribulations.

As the Lord Yeshua cried out, "Come unto Me all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest" (Matt. 11:28), so may we come, rolling away our burdens unto Him, and having our way established in His shalom (1 Pet. 5:7; Psalm 55:22). Amen. [Hebrew for Christians]

4.29.21 • Facebook

Today’s message from the Institute for Creation Research

April 30, 2021

Jehovah

“And, Thou, Lord, in the beginning hast laid the foundation of the earth; and the heavens are the works of thine hands.” (Hebrews 1:10)

The primary name for God in Scripture is the majestic name Jehovah, occurring nearly 7,000 times. The early Jews were reluctant to use that name for fear of using it lightly (Exodus 20:7) and substituted the word Adonai (meaning Master or Lord) in its place. Our English versions have followed suit, using the term “Lord” for Jehovah (small or all caps to distinguish it from Adonai, or Lord). Thus, the name Jehovah appears only four times in the King James and causes us at times to miss the full impact of the passage.

This is especially true in the New Testament quotations from Old Testament passages that used the name “Jehovah” for which “Lord” has been substituted. Now in the English versions the name “Lord” appears. If “Jehovah” (i.e., deity) were read instead, much richer meaning would be gathered, and it would prove beyond a doubt the full deity of Christ. Consider two examples.

First, our text quotes from Psalm 102:25-27. The entire psalm consists of praise to Jehovah, and here in Hebrews it addresses the Son. If we read “thou, Jehovah, in the beginning hast laid the foundations of the earth” and realize that Jesus is the subject of the passage, we recognize that Jesus can be none other than the Creator God.

Also, in Matthew 3:3, where John the Baptist fulfilled his prophesied role by teaching “Prepare ye the way of the Lord,” quoting from Isaiah 40:3, we see Jesus equated with the Jehovah of the Old Testament, for Isaiah uses the term LORD, or Jehovah.

In these and many other examples, we see Christ as the Jehovah Jesus and that the Lord of the Old Testament is the Jesus of the New Testament. JDM

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