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ghostfacesvalentine · 7 months

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HALLOWEEN DAY 6: Cheesy Halloween - Tate Langdon x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Multi!muse x Fem!Reader

Warnings: A tiny bit of NSWF, f!flashing but that’s about it, no details this time ... :) u dirty gremlins

Type: One shot

Request: N/A

Word Count: 1,932

Prompt: Tate decides to take the reader on an unexpected at-home Halloween date.

Notes: I want to really see how long I last with this challenge I put on myself. Also just a side note, let’s appreciate how creative Tate could be as he’s confined at home. That’s actually- my heart? You deserve it entirely.

The breeze flew past your cheeks, leaving a rushed red stain across your cheeks. Looking down to the pavement, you watched your feet as they kept up with you. Today was a disappointing day to say the least.

Nothing significant happened today, but this was kind of why it was disappointing. It seemed like Halloween wasn’t too exciting this year, it was only getting less and less anticipated as you grew older and yet there was a part of you that was disappointed.

You were on your way home to Tate, your boyfriend who eagerly waited for you to come home, every day. Like an excited puppy, ready to kiss your whole face. You’d have to pry him off to get your tasks done for the day.

Halloween was Tate’s favorite holiday as well, he shared your frustration from the lack of enthusiasm coming from the rest of the world when it came to Halloween. He’d sit there with you, watching you give out candy to trick or treaters, sitting on the opposite side of the porch, out of sight. A smile would always trickle across his face as he watched you participate in his absolute favorite holiday.

The house was empty, closing the door behind you, you let your bag flop onto the floor calling out for your boyfriend.

“Tate?” You quietly called out. Not a second later, you heard Tate’s footsteps trot down the steps, your boyfriend eager as always to be the first one to say hi to you.

Before you could look up from the floor as you kicked off your shoes, a pair of arms were draped around your neck, pulling you into his torso. His familiar scent intoxicated you as you did what you could to wrap your arms around him. A giggle escaped your lips as his faced buried itself into the crook of your neck. The edges of his lips and nose tickled the sensitive parts of your neck.

“Tate-” You whispered out as you tried to pull away to see his face, but he wouldn’t let you. There would be times Tate would do this, simply because he would get paranoid one day you weren’t going to come back and simply forget him. He dreaded that day more than anything. It was the one thing that terrified him more than the other side.

As your touch soothed his growing agony, he pulled away from you just enough to get a look at you. You took the liberty to plant a kiss on his lips, gentle but passionate. Tate kissed you back with the same force. “You took forever.” He pouted as he finally let you go after a few minutes, always dreading the amount of time you two spent apart.

“It was only eight hours Tate- I have to work you know.” You teased as you wrapped your arms around his neck, looking up to him. His dimples pressing against his cheeks. when he stared at you for too long. You made him happier than you could imagine. Tate would tell you constantly how much you meant to him, what your sudden appearance in the murder house did to him, how much he was devoted to you. It was true, Tate loved you more than anything, he would do anything for you.

Even cheer you up on the most boring day you’ve had all month.

“What’s wrong Y/N? is it Y/CWs/N? I know you were on shift with them today, I took a peak at your schedule earlier when I was cleaning around some.” Tate admitted with his arms now loosely wrapped around your waist.

Most of your conversations about the day began at the foot of the entrance, eventually making it up to your room.

Today was no different. Your fingers intertwined with Tate’s as you both made your way up to your room. “No, they kept to themselves for the most part, I managed to get all my tasks done by myself today.” You stated proudly as you followed Tate into your own room, watching him plop onto his side of the bed, looking up to you with his pouty, bold puppy eyes.

“Then what is it?” He asked, more concerned about what was wrong with your mood today.

“It’s just that Halloween’s coming up and it seems like everyone’s forgotten about it. You know it’s my favorite holiday- yours even, but it doesn’t seem like it’s on anyone’s mind this year.”

“It certainly is on mine though, just like always.” Tate admitted to you as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and looked to you with those sweet eyes he always got when he saw you. Still, that only stole a smile from you for a few moments, the smile disappearing then soon after again.

You looked to the floor in defeat, almost being able to hear Tate’s frown. His hand came under your chin, to bring your face up to make you look at him, which you hesitated to, but had no other choice to. “It has to be more than that Y/N, no?” He questioned you as he looked for any other sign of anything.

Shaking your head, you pulled away from his touch, feeling bad for your attitude, knowing it wasn’t your boyfriends fault, but you couldn’t help what you felt. It seemed like all your childhood memories and the best times were all left to be nothing but memories now. Vanished into the sands of time and the thought of never being able to enjoy Halloween the way you did a decade ago, terrified you.

“Tate- I’m going to go shower, okay? Then we can take a nap or something, I promise.” You gifted him a hopeful smile, leaning up to your tippy toes to kiss the tip of his nose. Tate offered you the same smile in return, dropping his arms from you and letting you make your way to get ready for your afternoon shower.

Wiping the evidence from your hot shower, you looked to yourself in the mirror, addressing your face with a pout. There was still no clear evidence of your mood lightening up anytime soon, it seemed like this could only be cured by a nap and some cuddles against Tate.

Speaking of which, you hadn’t been interrupted by in the last hour, which made you suspicious. Usually he’d give you such a hard time while you showered, always either ending up waiting in the bathroom with you, sitting on the counter or on the floor crisscrossed or ended up joining you. Both were actions welcomed by you, no matter if you were arguing or not, Tate couldn’t be away from you for long, instead just sat there in the same room with you in silence, avoiding your eyes like a grounded puppy.

Were you too harsh on him earlier? You didn’t think so, you weren’t upset with him. Maybe you snapped at him without him noticing. You had a towel wrapped around your body as you opened the bathroom door, looking into the hallway for any sign of him. Nothing.

“Tate?” You called out into the hallway, there was a moment of silence. Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, he couldn’t have left forever. Where was he hiding? Was he hiding?

“In the bedroom!” You heard a familiar voice call out from your room. An overwhelming feeling of relief came over you when you heard his voice. In a better state of mind, you made your way back to your room. Droplets of water trailed your steps, evidence of your fresh shower. “Tate?” You called out again as you made it into your own room only to find pillows laying all over your bed, all covered by your Halloween themed blankets, a bowl of popcorn and next to it all kinds of Halloween themed candy.

There were orange and purple lights draped across your bedframe, Tate did his best to black out your window with your black blankets, which did darken the room some shades. The vinyl Tate begged you to get when you met initially was on the side of your bed, laying on the floor, ready to play some spooky songs. The more you looked, the more you found. This had to be the most thoughtful thing Tate had done for you so far.

Your heart melted at the ideas that went around Tate’s head. Movies were sprawled around your room, waiting for you to pick which one you wanted to see first. Tate even managed to pull some of your makeup, willing to be the one you practiced on for the real deal. It was obvious you were obsessed, it was written all over your face. Jumping up and down in place the more you looked, hearing Tate’s laugh as he saw your reaction. “Do you like it?”

“Like it!!??” You cried out as you held your towel in place, it didn’t take you long to close the door and keep looking around. “I love it Tate!!” Leaping towards your boyfriend to wrap your arms around him, the laugh escaped his lips as you pushed him back onto the bed, his body getting some of the shower water in the process. “I’m glad you liked it. I was hoping you would, it took me a while to get everything together.” He muffled into your neck as he squeezed your body against him.

Not even a second later you sat up, not minding the towel that flopped down as you looked around. It was like a mini Halloween town, if there was a way to your heart, this definitely was it.

Tate then took a moment to stare at you in awe, pushing himself back up with his elbows, he started tugging at your towel, a familiar mischievous smirk plastered across his face. Your eyes pried away from the screen to look at Tate, his eyes looked back to yours, then flickered down to your exposed chest.

Though you were more than comfortable with him at your exposure, the accidental flash did make you flustered. “Oh-” You laughed at yourself bringing the towel back up to cover you.

Any other day Tate would’ve been all over you, unable to keep his hands off of you and maybe that could wait for later on tonight, but he wanted to make sure you were cheered up first.

“I even brought out the pajamas-” Tate explained as he turned his head to grab the pair of matching pajamas you bought last year, both littered with pumpkins and bats. You watched him as he handed you the clothes, a playful smile came across your face. Tate had to be the best boyfriend you’ve ever had, he was by far the most thoughtful.

You both took a moment to change into them, as you did, you reached for your towel, drying off your hair as Tate reached for the remote, pressing the play button for the movie to begin playing. As the cries erupted from the speakers, Tate leaned down to kiss your nose, leaving you in a smiley expression. You watched as Tate plopped down onto your bed once again, dressed in the cheesiest pajamas you’ve ever seen him wear.

The bed didn’t even seem welcoming to you, instead, you shifted over closer to him, mimicking how he fell onto the bed, this time you would fall onto his lap, snuggling your back against his chest. It wasn’t like Tate was complaining anyway, instead his arms instinctively wrapped around you. He cradled you into him as he occasionally reached to grab a few pieces of popcorn.

#tate langdon x reader #tate langdon imagine #tate langdon one shot #tate langdon #american horror story #ahs imagine

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bts-weverse-trans · 3 years

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210104 Weverse Magazine ‘Be’ Comeback Interview - Suga

SUGA “I'm grateful that there are still unvisited areas in the world of music” BTS BE comeback interview 2021.01.04

SUGA has this way of talking passionately with a deadpan look on his face. Full of passion about his life and music.

How is your shoulder? SUGA: Good. I think it’ll get even better once I take off this brace. Apparently, it takes several months for a full recovery, but I'm trying to get better as fast as possible.

How does it feel like to have resolved a problem that has distressed you for long? SUGA: First of all, I'm glad. The pain is one thing, but when my shoulders got worse, I couldn't even raise my arms. But when I heard that this might recur when getting the surgery at a young age, I waited for the right time and had decided to get it done early next year regardless of the COVID-19 situation. I had planned to get the surgery after the year-end stages, but I got it done this year (2020) because my doctors advised me to start preparing early for next year’s promotions and activities.

Is that what made you join the promotion as much as possible? You shot lots of video footage in advance and you even appeared in the Mnet “2020 MAMA” through VR. SUGA: Fake SUGA (Laughs). There’s this 3D studio where we shot it. I shot, scanned, and acted there, but couldn't see the actual result at the studio. I thought a sense of displacement was unavoidable, and that was exactly the case. (Laughs) I acted normal because it would have been aired anyway even if I hadn’t had the surgery, but it seems a lot because it’s aired after the surgery.

You must feel restricted not being able to go on stage. SUGA: The thing is, it's only been a month after I got surgery, but my absence on stage is so apparent. But my doctors keep telling me that I shouldn't be impatient and in fact, many athletes get a resurgery when they return to the field without proper rehabilitation. So I'm working on trying to care less. For the first two weeks after surgery, I felt so frustrated that I tried out new things. I even watched movies I didn't watch.

Could you elaborate on that? SUGA: A lot of candidates on ‘Sing Again’ are very talented but hadn't had the opportunity, and on ‘Folk Us’, I noticed that many took their own guitars on stage. I started playing the guitar lately and I'm having this urge to broaden my scope of music. And since my interest in the music industry in the U.S. grew, I'm getting prepared, studying English and all.

What fueled your interest? SUGA: In some ways it’s the most commercially developed market. You could lose the industry attention in a flash if it's not feasible. So in this system, you would try everything and that would be an efficient way. I want to do music for a long time, and to this end, I always want to learn more about the global music industry because I want to do music that’s loved not only in Korea, but also in the U.S., Japan and Europe.

Speaking of which, it seems BE was influenced from music of the past rather than today's trends. SUGA: I especially like impromptu music. I love the songs that were made in one take instead of being recorded several times. In this era of crossover genres, the desire to do better in music is growing inside me.

As the genres become more blended, the melody you use must be more important. Does starting to play the guitar affect your composing in any way? SUGA: I always liked using guitar sounds. And I have always liked the Eagles. If you play the guitar, it’s way easier to write songs because you can carry it along wherever you go, pluck on the strings to create melody lines. Keyboards are difficult to carry around. (Laughs) I usually work on my laptop but I had this thought that I definitely needed an instrument. It accelerates my work and improves my understanding of chords.

It makes me think you could intuitively make melodies. SUGA: It’s easier to write a song because you can intuitively make a progression and try many different things. During my work on ‘Eight’, IU had recorded and sent me a song from her phone. At the time I couldn’t play the guitar, so we tried to make sure we’re working on the same page when keeping track of each other's progress. That made me feel the need to learn an instrument.

When I listen to your singing, it feels like you’re hitting the beats rather than singing along the notes. So I thought perhaps you're singing as if you're rapping. SUGA: When you're rapping, you just think of the rhythm, so it’s like simply putting on a melody to a rhythm. To define which comes first, I think melody adds to it while writing the rap.

In ‘Life Goes On’, the lyrics ‘Thankfully between you and me, nothing’s changed’ are somewhere in between. It's not rap but it’d be mundane to say it's a mere melody. SUGA: There are obviously songs where the rap needs to be highlighted. For example, in ‘Dis-ease’ or ‘Ugh!’, you have to be good at rap. But in songs that should be easy to listen to, impressive raps are not always the way to go. Sometimes, you want smooth transitions without obstacles.

In that sense, the rap flow of ‘Blue & Grey’ was impressive. Rather than a dramatic effect that emphasizes each part, you extended the rap just as much as the slowing beat. SUGA: To be honest, this beat is difficult to rap to. The beginning of the song only has a guitar line, which made it even more difficult. I participated when we wrote lyrics for ‘Blue & Grey’ and I've always wanted to work on a song like this. It was because verse 1 talks about the theme of the song.

Many creators are unsure even after they’ve produced good work. How do you get the conviction to release your work? SUGA: Many musicians are unsure whether they should release their music or not. It was the same for me, but the thing is, you’ll never release anything if you nitpick everything. For example, if we release 10 songs, we have a chance to unveil them in concerts or fan events. And sometimes, as we listen to the song, we think, ‘Why does this part that had bothered me no longer bother me?’ Some things might feel awkward at some point, but in time, it no longer feels awkward. Even I forget about it. So it's more efficient to fine tune, looking at the big picture, rather than thinking too much about the details. On top of that, during promotions, I don’t have the time to pick tracks that others have sent for 10 hours. It would be a success for all of us if each of us play and write a melody in their own time and collaborate with others on the details. So the way of songwriting has evolved in many aspects.

What motivated such evolution? SUGA: I think it evolved naturally. I've changed in personality this year (2020), as well as in terms of my interpretation and attitude toward life to the extent that I almost thought I've been rehearsing. How would it feel like if there were no stage to go to or anyone looking out for me? This thought made me realize the value of these things.

In ‘Dis-ease’, you sing ‘I don’t know if it’s the world that's sick’. Was it this lifestyle that changed your thoughts about your work? SUGA: Yes. When I was young, I had embraced the belief that ‘It must be my fault’, but as I got older, I realized that this is not always true. Most of what I had thought was my fault was in fact, not my fault. On the other hand, there are things that I did well and times I had been lucky.

‘I NEED U’ came out during a time when you were still thinking, “It must be me”. After the members put on a stage with ‘I NEED U’ in KBS' ‘Song Festival’, you wrote on Weverse, “It’s the same as five years ago.” How would you compare with back then? (This interview was held on December 19, 2020.) SUGA: We've matured quite a bit. And our stage performances have become more natural. I still like ‘I NEED U’. Just listening to the beat makes me sentimental, and above all, the song came out nicely. So as I was watching this and that when I stumbled across old videos. Watching them made me think that we haven’t changed much.

I'm amazed personally. I’ve had the chance to meet the members before your debut, but from your way of talking with members or others, it seems you haven't changed. SUGA: I think it's because we don’t give it a big deal about success. For example, it's incredible to be ranked first on the Billboards, but there’s also this sense of, “Okay, and?”

Even the Grammys? (Laughs) SUGA: When we got nominated for the Grammy Awards, we thought, ‘Is this real?’ (Laughs) Of course we were delighted, but it didn’t make us think, ‘We're singers nominated for the Grammy.’ If you're nominated, you're nominated, and if you get the award, you get the award. You don't get shaken by that. I know it's a great award and would be so grateful if we receive it, but we know that nothing is possible without the tremendous support of our fans. What’s more important is that the fans are more flattered than us when we receive a great award. So everyone's rejoicing, but it’s like, ‘Let's do what we have to do.’ We've been training ourselves to keep finding our places, so no one remains overexcited.

In ‘Fly To My Room’, there are lyrics that say, ‘This room is too small to contain my dream’, and ‘Sometimes this room becomes an emotional trash can, but it embraces me.’ I had this feeling that the room had been such a place and that you were accepting that you have changed. Then the essence must have remained the same. SUGA: It wasn’t easy to accept that we eventually change. But I think it's a good thing that we changed. What we did back then was possible only at that time, and we could change because of the things we had accomplished.

Then, what new things are you dreaming about? SUGA: I'm eager to continue doing music. Since all performances were canceled due to COVID-19, I had a chance to talk to so many musicians in Korea. I talked with legendary singers as well as people who are my contemporaries. Talking with them once again made me realize that I love music so much. Because music is my profession, I can’t imagine myself not doing it. I'm grateful that there are still unvisited areas in the world of music.

That must explain your interest in a broader spectrum of music from instruments to composing and musical genres. Because you want to be doing this for a long time. SUGA: My goal is to continue doing music in any shape or form. In that sense, I have this great respect toward Cho Yong-pil. He takes the best sound there is and reinterprets it into his own. I think that’s something I want to emulate and keep changing and evolving so that I can continue doing music for decades to come.

The lyrics ‘Thankfully between you and me nothing’s changed’ must sound more meaningful for the fans because they will be listening to your music for a long time. SUGA: A month and a half in the current times must seem like a lifetime for the fans when we're far apart. I feel the same. But I think that's proof that we worked hard for the past seven years and that the fans have been passionately reaching out to us. I'm striving to get to them as fast as I can, and I'm eager to go on stage. I'm going through this because I want to be better on stage in a better condition, so don't be sad, and please hang in there a little longer.

Trans © Weverse

#bangtan #yoongi #weverse #weverse magazine #Be Album #comeback interview #210104 #2021

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etherrreal · 3 years

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“resentment”

Pairing: oikawa x fem!reader Genre: angst Summary: you used to love oikawa’s determination, his drive, his willingness to give his all and sacrifice everything to get the things he wants. now those are the same things that make you resent him. WC: 6,700 Warnings: lots of angst, explicit language, reader’s kinda petty but so is oikawa, relationship isn’t toxic or anything but it could def be better A/N: shoutout to @shadowkunoichi for this request! your ask gave me enough serotonin to last for the rest of the week <3 it’s also important to note that the moment i saw oikawa’s smug ass face on screen my brain and heart immediately went “this the one” so here’s some pain ft. my favorite setter -Dawn

The first few times Oikawa cancels your dates for extended volleyball practice, you tell yourself it doesn’t bother you. You’re disappointed, of course –you barely see him enough as it is, despite living together for three months, despite dating for a total of eight– but it’s not the end of the world. It’s just another compromise you have to make, and it probably won’t be the last.

That’s what relationships are about, anyway, you remind yourself firmly, whenever the silence of your too-big for one person apartment starts to get to you. Compromise.

You’re no stranger to compromise, either. You can’t be, not when you’re dating a pro-athlete. You know better than anyone how talented Oikawa is, how admired. He’s worked so hard, and you’re so proud of him. You may not know much about sports, but you do know that your boyfriend has an amazing career ahead of him.

And while the selfish part of you would like to keep him all to yourself, you also know it won’t always be possible, and you tell yourself you’re okay with that. You love Oikawa, and you support every single one of his dreams, even if doing so means you have to eat dinner on your own sometimes.

It won’t always be this way, you tell yourself. It’s just for now. And it definitely doesn’t mean he loves you any less.

That’s what you tell yourself.

It helps that he’s always sorry about it. You hear it in his voice whenever he calls you to tell you he won’t be home until late, see it in the guilty way his eyes search for yours through the screen when he FaceTimes you to let you know you shouldn’t wait up for him. He’s even more torn up about it than you are most of the time, blowing your phone up with apologetic voice notes and text messages with too many emojis.

[pretty (annoying) boy 💙 ]:: babe 😔😔

[you]:: yes baby?

[pretty (annoying) boy 💙 ]:: 😔😔😔😔

[pretty (annoying) boy 💙 ]:: 😩😩😭😭

[you]:: oh boy

[you]:: you’re not gonna be home in time for dinner, are you?

[pretty (annoying) boy 💙 ]:: i don’t think so 😩😔 we have that game coming up so we’ll be practicing all night

[pretty (annoying) boy 💙 ]:: i’m so sorry baby ☹️☹️ but i’ll have to miss dinner again 😭😭

[you]:: it’s fine, i’ll just find someone else to share my chicken with

[you]:: speaking of, u have ushiwaka’s #? i wanna see something

[pretty (annoying) boy 💙 ]:: STOPPPP 😭😭 i’m sorry!!!

[you]:: allegedly

[pretty (annoying) boy 💙 ]:: stop 😭😭 i mean it!! i love you pls don’t hate me 😩☹️

[pretty (annoying) boy 💙 ]:: i’m really sorry babe ☹️☹️

[you]:: if ur apology doesn’t include dollar signs then i don’t wanna hear it

[pretty (annoying) boy 💙 ]:: check ur email

[you]:: ??

[pretty (annoying) boy 💙 ]:: 👀😇

You check your email, and sure enough, there’s a gift card there to your favorite clothing store, along with a note that reads “financial compensation for putting up with me <3 also if u ever share chicken with ushiwaka i’ll cry and then die so pls don’t.” It makes you laugh so hard you forget about being upset with him in the first place.

[you]:: i was joking!! u didn’t actually have to send me anything u weirdo

[pretty (annoying) boy 💙 ]:: i know 😇😏😘

And when he does make it home that night with an apology on his lips, a bouquet of flowers, and a promise that he’ll make it up to you, it’s hard to do anything else besides forgive him. Because you know that no matter how crazy both of your schedules are, no matter how lonely you might feel without him at your side, he loves you more than anything, and you love him as much in return. And for a while, that’s enough.

Until it isn’t.

You’re thankful to have successfully made it through your first year of grad school with just a caffeine addiction and minor bags under your eyes, but not having to attend your classes or meet with your professors over the break means you’re at the apartment a lot more. You still have your job, but it’s becoming harder and harder to ignore Oikawa’s absence.

It’s not just dates he’s missing anymore. It’s family events, outings with your friends, getaway trips the two of you planned weeks in advance.

You know it’s not his fault. He has things he wants to accomplish, goals he set for himself long before he met you. The Olympics are coming up, and he needs to be ready. You can’t blame him for staying late to get in some extra practice, or for having to attend events with his teammates and his fans instead of you.

You can’t blame him for any of it, at least not without feeling selfish and unsupportive, and somehow that just makes it worse.

It takes you longer than you’d like to admit to build up the courage to talk to him about it. You almost don’t want to bring it up at all, but after weeks of missed dates and apology bouquets, of waking up without him and going to sleep before he gets home, you crumble. You don’t think you can keep grinning and bearing it anymore, not without starting to resent him.

You confront him while he’s sitting at the kitchen island in the middle of your shared apartment. It’s rare he doesn’t have a game on the weekend, even rarer he gets to spend the afternoon with you. It almost makes you reconsider –will this ruin your time together?– but you hold fast. You know that if you don’t bring it up now, then you probably never will, and you’re not sure you can take that much more silent heartache.

Oikawa, for his part, does well to listen as you speak. He watches you intently, pretty brown eyes soft and searching, as you tell him about how neglected you’re feeling, how lonely.

You know he’s not doing it on purpose. You know he’s meant every single one of his apologies, and that this is what you signed up for when you agreed to be in a relationship with him. And you love how driven he is, how determined he is to succeed.

You just...you miss him. That’s what it boils down to in the end: how much you miss him. You miss him now more than that time he left to spend a month back home in Japan while you stayed in Argentina, despite the fact that you’re in the same country this time, despite the fact that you share the same apartment. It shouldn’t be possible, but it’s true.

“I know your career is important, and I would never try to get in the way of that,” you tell him, quietly, tiredly. There’s an exhausted air around you he’s never seen before, the kind of whispered sadness that breaks his heart. “But sometimes, Tooru...sometimes it feels like I’m dating a ghost. And I’m not mad at you, or angry, I’m just...lonely.”

You finally look at him, and the emotion in his eyes startles you. He’s actually tearing up –“you’re such a crybaby,” you like to tease him when his eyes water during sad movies, but you always comfort him anyway– and it’s enough to make your eyes fill with tears, too. He looks so sad, so broken, like knowing he’s hurt you –even if it’s been completely unintentional– hurts him too.

He’s quick to stand and walk over to you, wrapping his arms around you tightly. You return the embrace, resting your head against his chest while one of his hands moves to cradle the back of your head.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers into your hair, and you can tell by the way his voice shakes that he means it. “I know things have been crazy lately, but that’s no excuse for leaving you here alone. I never want you to feel like you’re anything besides the most important person in my life. I love you so much, and I promise I’m going to fix this. Things will get better, I swear.”

And in that moment, you believe him. You trust him, after all, and you know he doesn’t make promises he can’t keep. So you let him mumble reassurances into your hair, let him kiss your breath away and shower you in the affection you’ve been missing for far too long.

It’s so easy to get lost in it, lost in him. Too easy.

He’s always been like that; charismatic and witty, magnetic and charming. It doesn’t help that he’s totally gorgeous, too. You knew, from the moment you met him, that if you ever let yourself fall in love with him, you’d be in trouble. It’s why you never took any of his advances seriously, at least not in the beginning.

But he was able to chip at your resolve with every teasing smile and playful wink, every reverent touch and whispered words meant just for you. He let you get to know him; the real him, not that flippant and perfect pretty boy facade he presents to the rest of the world, and so of course you fell for him, because how could you not?

Oikawa is stubborn and prideful, exhausting and even sometimes petty, but he makes you feel like you’re the strongest person he knows. He looks at you like you’re the only one he’ll ever want to see. He makes you laugh and keeps you on your toes, and you know right away –before you moved in together, before you told him you loved him– that you will never love anyone the way you love him, because no one else will ever be able to compare.

That’s why it’s so easy for you to believe him now. Because you know he loves you and that you love him, and the two of you are determined to make this relationship work. So when he promises that things will change, that he’ll be more present from here on out, you believe him.

It’s the first promise he’s ever made to you that he doesn’t keep.

For every event Oikawa does bother to make it to, he misses two more. Your parents, who adore him, wonder why they never see him anymore. Your friends start to ask if you even still have a boyfriend. You find yourself asking the very same thing.

You stop inviting him to events at your university and lunches with your friends. You don’t want to set yourself up for disappointment anymore, and you figure it’s easier to just save yourself from the inevitable. The apology gifts he gives you start to feel hollow, empty, just like your apartment. You stop opening them, letting them pile up in the corner of your living room. Eventually, he stops giving them to you.

You’re not sure if you’re thankful for that, or if it upsets you even more.

The Olympics get closer each day. Oikawa’s practices become more intense and even longer than they already were. There are so many things he needs to do now: games to play, meet and greets to attend. Sometimes if he’s out too late he just doesn’t come home at all. The team sets him up at a hotel, and he stays there for the night instead.

It gets harder to catch his scent on his pillow where it lays beside you in bed, untouched and forgotten. It should hurt you more, but it doesn’t.

There’s an event being held back in Japan, promising a night of drinking and dancing and schmoozing. All the investors and international players and coaches will be there, and you promised a while back to be Oikawa’s plus one.

The vindictive part of you wants to cancel on him, just so he knows how it feels, but you decide you can put your pettiness aside for a few nights if it means free booze and food and a comfortable stay at some ridiculously fancy hotel. You wonder if that’ll be enough to fill the hole he’s made in your heart.

Besides, you want to remind him that you’re the kind of person who keeps your word, even if he’s not.

The flight is long and exhausting. So is finding your hotel and forcing yourself to get dressed, but you get through it. Oikawa looks unfairly stunning in his suit, but you try not to notice. He arrives at the party with you on his arm, wearing a silky gown that matches his tie and jewelry that glitters whenever it catches the light.

You’ve barely talked to each other the whole way here, but at the party, amongst his teammates, old rivals, and friends, you’re the perfect couple. You smile, laugh, and dance exactly when you’re supposed to. You play your role so well that no one notices how numb you are, not even Oikawa, even though he’s supposed to know you better than anyone else.

Maybe that’s why you find yourself at the open bar. Oikawa’s off mingling with god knows who, swamped by dozens of people who are always seeking his favor, trapped in his orbit. They praise his hard work, his tenacity, his determination. Once upon a time, you would’ve done the same.

But things are different between you now. What used to be Oikawa’s endearing stubbornness is now an outright refusal to meet you halfway. His determination to be the best has become an inability to compromise; his passion has become obsession. It’s strange to think how all the things that used to make you love him now just make you resent him.

But the liquor here is free and flowing so you knock it back like water, and it’s almost enough to make you forget your heartbreak, your anger. Almost.

All the drinking eventually sends you to the bathroom. You touch up your makeup as best as you can and wash your hands with one of the several different soap options, exiting the bathroom noticeably drunker than you were when you went in.

You’re off-balance enough that when you run into what feels like a brick wall but is actually just a tall, broad-shouldered man, you stumble and nearly fall over. He reacts quicker than you do, catching your elbow and steadying you back on your feet.

He asks you if you’re all right and you reassure him that you are. You swear you’ve seen his face before, but you’re too tipsy right now to bother to remember where.

“I appreciate the help,” you say sincerely, patting his shoulder. “But I promise I’m okay. Thank you again, really.”

He gives you a look like he doesn’t believe you, and he’s proven right approximately five seconds later, when you turn on your heel to leave and nearly fall over again. Once more, he’s there to catch you.

You try to convince him that you’re okay; you’re just a little bit tipsy from all the champagne earlier, but he guides you to one of the stupid velvet couches in the hallway and makes you sit down. He tells you to stay there and wait for him, and you want to protest but he’s already gone before you can make any real sort of argument.

When he returns, it’s with a bottle of water, which you sheepishly accept. He stays with you as you drink it, and your vision and stomach start to settle. You thank him again for all his help. He tells you it’s no big deal, and when he introduces himself as Ushijima Wakatoshi, you laugh so hard you almost spit water all over yourself.

Ushijima raises an eyebrow at you. “Is there something about my name that amuses you?”

“No, no, nothing like that.” It takes more effort than it should, but you’re thankfully able to force yourself to stop laughing. Talk about ironic encounters. “It’s just– I’ve heard of you before.”

“Are you a fan of volleyball?”

You resist the urge to snort, sending him an amused smile instead. “Something like that.”

The two of you chat for a little while, and it’s a surprisingly pleasant conversation. You quite like his company, and you appreciate how he’s willing to keep an eye on you solely out of the kindness of his heart, just to make sure you’re really okay. It’s hardly necessary anymore –the water’s doing a great job at sobering you up– but it’s a nice distraction from the reason you started drinking in the first place.

Or it was, until you start to hear that very same reason calling your name from somewhere down the hall. His voice gets closer and closer, and you shut your eyes, bracing yourself.

“What the hell?”

You open your eyes and suddenly Oikawa is in front of you, eyebrows drawn together and lips pulled into a deep frown. You can only imagine what you look like to him right now, low-eyed and tipsy and sitting on a couch next to his oldest rival.

You can already see the anger in his eyes, the suspicion. He’s jealous, and it’s absolutely ridiculous because he has no right to be. Not after ignoring you for so long. Not after reminding you over and over again that when it comes down to it, you’ll always be second place to his career.

You haven’t been flirting with Ushijima, but now you wonder if maybe you should have. There’s a bitter part of you that wants to hurt Oikawa as much as he’s hurt you, even if it’s only for a moment.

Ushijima seems completely oblivious to the situation, which you’re sure just infuriates your boyfriend even more. He’s described to you in great detail how one of the things he finds most frustrating about Ushijima is how completely and utterly unbothered he is by everything.

“Oikawa,” the man closest to you greets, standing up. “It’s good to see you.”

“Ushiwaka.” The smile your boyfriend directs to his old rival is tight-lipped and void of any of its usual warmth. Oikawa’s gaze settles on you next, eyes narrowing even further. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Come on, let’s go.”

“I’m sorry.” Your voice is plain, dull, as you tilt your head at him mockingly. “Do I know you?”

“Stop being cute.” The way he practically snaps it makes it clear he doesn’t think you’re being cute at all. In fact, he actually looks pretty pissed, and you almost smile at the realization. As petty as he can be, it’s clear you’re better at this than he is. “It’s getting late. It’s time for us to leave.”

Ushijima’s gaze slides over to you. “Do you know him?”

But you’re not looking at him. You’re looking straight at Oikawa, at the tenseness of his shoulders, the way he’s on the verge of fuming. Apparently, just the idea of you being alone with his oldest rival is more concerning to him than the fact that you’ve barely spent any time with each other in the past two months. It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

“Of course.” You stand, closing the short distance between yourself and Oikawa. “He’s my boyfriend. My loving, devoted, perfect boyfriend.”

You place the hand that’s not holding your water bottle against his chest, perching on your toes to deliver a sweet kiss to his cheek. When you pull away, the stain of your lipstick remains, and you wonder if he can feel the resentment in it.

“I just forget sometimes, is all. You know, since we never see each other.”

You don’t bother to examine the look on his face. You can’t find it in yourself to care anymore. You turn to Ushijima instead, offering a tired but genuine smile.

“Thank you again for your help, Ushijima. It was a pleasure to officially meet you. Have a good night.”

You turn on your heel and walk away, down the hall and past several magnificent paintings, past any apology you would normally be ready to offer. It’s petty and deliberate, the kind of reaction you didn’t think you were capable of before this, but it’s all you have left. Oikawa doesn’t care, hasn’t cared for a while actually, so neither will you.

You don’t know what he says to Ushijima or if he even says anything at all, but you do hear his footsteps when he runs after you. They slow as he gets closer, but you don’t stop walking, don’t turn back to look.

“Are you fucking kidding me? What– what the fuck was all that back there, huh?”

You stop. Slowly, you turn to look at him, but you don’t say anything. You just stand there, watching, waiting, feeling absolutely nothing as you do.

“‘It’s a pleasure to meet you.’” It’s a poor imitation of your voice, but the intention is there. “So what, I don’t spend enough time with you and suddenly it’s okay for you to flirt with someone else?”

You laugh without humor. “That’s what you’re stuck on? The fact that I had a conversation with him and not the part where I said we never see each other? You truly have a gift, Tooru.”

The frown on his face deepens, but the anger in his eyes softens a little, replaced by a hint of guilt. There’s regret there, too, over not keeping the promise he made to you. You would be more moved by it if you weren’t so completely infuriated right now.

He closes his eyes, letting out a sigh. “I’m not going to have this argument with you. Not here.”

“Where should we have it then, hm? In the lobby? At the hotel? We’re damn sure not having it when we get home, because you’re never fucking there!”

You don’t mean to scream at him, but that’s what comes out. You’re not sure which one of you is more surprised by it. Oikawa stares at you, wide-eyed and stunned, as if you’ve just slapped him, and you stare back, breathing hard. You’re so focused on each other you don’t even notice you have an audience until you hear a new, familiar voice speak.

“Hey.” Iwaizumi steps between you, concerned and cautious.

He’s the only one here, thank god, but his appearance reminds you that this is definitely not the time or the place for any of this. You shouldn’t care who overhears you, but as angry as you are, you’re not selfish enough to air out your relationship’s problems in front of all of Oikawa’s friends and colleagues. You still love him, after all, even if it’s hurting you to do so.

Iwaizumi casts a wary glance between you and his best friend, almost like he’s preparing himself to play the unwilling referee in what seems to be an inevitable fight. Any other time, you might’ve laughed at the look on his face, but not now. “Everything okay, you two?”

It’s not. It hasn’t been for a while, and right now Oikawa’s looking at you like he’s finally realizing that too.

The car ride back to the hotel is eerily silent. You and Oikawa share no words, no fleeting glances; you don’t even sit close enough to touch each other, not even accidentally. The ride up to your floor is spent in a similar fashion, a cold distance settling between you that’s never been there before.

Or maybe it’s been there for a while, and it took you screaming at him in the middle of a party for the two of you to notice it.

Miraculously, you make it into your room in one piece. The two of you remove your coats and shoes in that same suffocating silence. You make it to the bedroom without exchanging a single word, and he takes a seat on the bed while you sit in front of the vanity and begin removing your jewelry.

Another long stretch of silence later, and then he’s meeting your eyes in the mirror to ask, “Can we talk?”

You consider telling him to go fuck himself instead, but somehow you bite down the urge.

“About what?” You take off your necklace, a pretty golden chain with your birthstone on it that he got you for your birthday. “About how I wasn’t flirting with Ushijima? Because I wasn’t, if that’s what you’re still so torn up about.”

“I know you weren’t,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. It’s a bit longer than you remember; that’s how long it’s been since you’ve really gotten the chance to look at him. “I don’t know why I said that.”

“I do. You were jealous.” Your earrings are the next to go, another gift from him. He’s scattered himself into so many pieces across your life; you’re not sure how you’ll ever be free of him, or if you’ll ever want to be. “But you had no reason to be. I would never do that to you.”

“I know.” He looks down, fidgets with his fingers, meets your gaze again through the mirror. His tie is loosened around his neck, making him look disheveled in just the way you like. “I’m sorry.”

“Great.” Your tone is short, clipped, as you finally remove the last of your jewelry. “Is that all?”

“Please don’t do that. I’m trying to have a conversation with you here, so that we can fix this. I mean, don’t you want to talk about everything, especially after tonight?”

“I’ve already said everything I needed to say, Tooru.” You break your gaze from the mirror, turning to glance over your shoulder at him instead. “You know exactly what the problem is, just like I know you won’t do a single thing to change it. You can’t, because my feelings –our entire relationship– all of that stuff’s always going to come second to the things you want.”

The frown from earlier is back now, this time paired with a hard look, like he can’t believe you’re questioning his commitment, even though he’s given you dozens of reasons to do so. “That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” You rise to your feet, a dry, humorless laugh escaping your throat as you do. “Tell that to the countless dates you’ve missed. Tell that to the bed you hardly sleep in anymore, to all the times I’ve fallen asleep without you and then woken up only to realize you still weren’t there.”

The words feel heavy and bitter on your tongue, your anger growing the more you think about everything you’ve endured over the past few months, all the different ways he’s managed to disappoint you.

“There’s nothing untrue about it, Tooru. You just don’t care about me the way I care about you.”

“Are you seriously going to stand there and tell me I don’t care about you?” he demands. “Of course I care. I love you, dammit. How could you ever think I don’t?”

“How couldn’t I? God, have you seriously not heard a single thing I’ve said this entire time? I’m practically in this relationship by myself, and you’re doing absolutely nothing to change that!”

“You think I like having to leave you on your own so much? You think it doesn’t break my heart seeing the look on your face every time I have to tell you I can’t make it to all the things I want to be there for?” He’s on his feet now, hand jabbing at his chest, like if he could rip out his heart and show you the scars there, he would. “Because it does, okay? It makes me fucking miserable, but what else am I supposed to do?”

“You’re supposed to be there, Tooru!” You don’t know when you started crying, but you are. You’re yelling too, hands shaking, voice raw. “You’re supposed to be there when I need you, not make stupid promises you can’t keep! And even if you can’t be there all the time, you’re at least supposed to try!”

“I am trying! I’ve been trying this whole time, and you know that!” He sounds as exasperated and raw as you do, waving his arms around, red-faced and distressed. “You knew what my goals were before we started dating. I never hid them from you. You knew exactly what I wanted, you knew how hard I would have to work, how hard it would be for us, and you agreed to be with me anyway! You promised me you wouldn’t let it come between us!”

“Well, that was before I knew how fucking impossible it would be!”

There’s nothing productive being exchanged between the two of you anymore. You’re just screaming at each other. You call him obsessed and self-absorbed; he calls you needy and demanding. He tells you to grow up and stop asking for so much, and you tell him he’s chasing a pointless dream.

You’re not trying to compromise with each other, or trying to make the other see your point of view. You both just want to hurt each other, and you do.

You’re crying by the end of it; so is he, but you both refuse to admit defeat. It’s one of the many things you have in common: your stubbornness. You’re out of breath and hurting and there’s a small part of you that just wants him to hold you, but at the same time, you can’t stand the sight of him anymore.

You storm out of the room before he gets the chance to, looking back to catch him throwing his hands in the air in exasperation. You throw yourself onto the couch and opt to sleep there for the night, because you know that if you don’t, you’ll probably end up strangling each other.

Oikawa, for once, is wise enough not to follow you, but there’s a quiet voice inside your heart that wishes he did.

You wake up the next morning with a stuffy nose and a migraine. The price of crying yourself to sleep, you suppose. Your appetite is gone but you know that if you don’t eat anything soon the pain behind your skull will only get worse, so you force yourself to stand from the couch.

You step on something hard, eyes widening at the indignant noise of protest it lets out in response. You lose your footing almost immediately, toppling over onto the carpet. It’s everything you can do to throw out your hands and avoid smacking your forehead against the coffee table.

“What the fuck, Tooru?” You scowl when you realize it’s not a random object you’ve tripped over, but rather your own boyfriend, who for some inconceivable reason is laying on the floor beside the couch. “It’s bad enough we spent last night fighting– now you’re trying to kill me, too?”

“I could say the same thing to you!” Oikawa exclaims, returning your scowl with equal exasperation. He’s rubbing at his chest, a pout tugging at his lips as he groans. “You just stepped on my chest. I could have died.”

“Oh, bite me, drama queen.” You roll your eyes, preparing to stand up again, but then you notice the dark circles on his usually flawless skin, the messiness of his hair, and the fact that he’s still wearing his suit from last night, though the tie is gone and the first few buttons of his shirt are loosened. “...did you actually sleep out here? On the floor? Why didn’t you just sleep on the bed like a normal person?”

“I couldn’t.” He pouts even more, and when you nudge his leg with your foot, he sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “It didn’t feel right without you. It never does. But it felt even worse after last night.”

It melts your heart, you admit. Just a little. But it’s not enough to make you forgive him or to forget your argument, and right now he’s looking at you like he knows that too.

Still, you feel the urge to remind him, “I’m still pissed at you.”

“I know. I’m really sorry. Not just for what I said last night, but for everything I’ve done before that. I never should’ve made you feel like you’re asking for too much, because you’re not, it’s just…” He takes a shaky breath, leans his head back against the couch from where he sits beside you on the floor. “...it’s hard.”

He turns his body slightly so he’s facing you fully. He starts to reach out a hand towards you, almost like he wants to cup your cheek, but he seems to think better of it and lets his hand drop down between you. You almost smile.

His eyes are hesitant as they meet yours, apologetic. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you, either.” You fiddle with the straps of your gown where they’ve slid down your arm. You were so exhausted and upset after your fight with him that you didn’t bother to change out of it. “...do you really think I’m needy and demanding?”

“Of course not,” he answers easily. “Do you really think I’m chasing a pointless dream?”

“Definitely not. Your dream isn't pointless, Tooru, it’s amazing, and it’s one I know you can reach.” Your hands brush where they rest between you. He tenses slightly, like he’s not sure you’ll want to touch him after everything, but you slide your fingers through his and watch as he lets out a quiet sigh of relief. “I was just angry.”

“Me too.” He squeezes your hand, and you let him pull you a bit closer to him, let him press a kiss to the back of your palm. “I don’t want to fight with you. And I definitely don’t want to disappoint you anymore.”

“I don’t want to blame you or resent you anymore, either.” You inch closer and he lets you rest your head against his shoulder, resting his own against yours in return. A clock ticks on the wall behind you. For the first time in a while, it feels like the two of you are back in sync. “So what are we gonna do about it?”

It’s the million-dollar question, it seems. And it’s the one that, after weeks of heartache, of missing each other and blaming each other at the same time, he finally has the answer to.

When you return to Argentina together, everything changes. Oikawa’s determination goes back to being something you love, now that he’s putting it towards making sure the two of you get to spend time together. He’s at the apartment more; does his best to get to dinner on time, to attend outings with your family and friends, and to meet you halfway at fancy restaurants and magnificent museums and shower you with his undivided attention.

It’s not perfect. He’s still busy, so he can’t be with you all the time, but the effort is there. You see it now more than ever, and it’s all you’ve wanted.

It doesn’t last.

You spend three blissful months together, both of you putting in an equal amount of effort to make it work, to understand each other and support each other, even when it seems impossible. But Oikawa’s schedule becomes more and more unyielding as time goes on, and it’s not long before the cycle of absence starts all over again.

If you had to really pinpoint the beginning of the end, you’d say it’s the night of your presentation. The research project you’ve spent countless hours working on has finally been completed, and tonight you’re going to share it with the public; this thing you’ve struggled with since you entered grad school, this thing you’ve put your blood, sweat, and tears into, both metaphorically and literally.

It goes incredibly well, as your professors and mentors reassured you it would. Your classmates, friends, and parents are all there, and they get to watch and glow with pride as the room erupts into applause once you finish your presentation, knocking the whole thing out of the park just like they knew you would.

The only one who isn’t there is Oikawa, despite you telling him about this ages ago, despite it being written on the calendar hanging on your fridge. You know he texted you with some excuse, but you don’t bother to check which one it was this time.

It should hurt more. It should make you want to shout and scream, to sob and cry, but it doesn’t. The anger you felt before, the fury and heartbreak; it’s not there anymore. It’s gone. You’re not sad or upset or disappointed. You just don’t feel anything at all.

Your friends offer to take you out for the night to celebrate, but you politely decline. Instead, you make your way to the apartment you share with Oikawa, finding it emptier than it’s ever been before.

Months ago, you might’ve cried. Now you do nothing, say nothing, feel nothing. It’s just numb.

By the time Oikawa does make it home, you’re already packed. You’re sitting at the table, waiting, still as a statue. He greets you in a flurry of brown hair and frantic movement, an apology you don’t care to listen to fast on his lips. He whirls by you so quickly he doesn’t even notice your bags stacked next to you.

“Shit, baby, I’m so sorry! I know I’m late, but I’m here now and I promise I won’t be going anywhere for the next few–…”

It takes him a few moments, a couple of double-takes, but finally, he registers the silence around him, the sight of you at the table, surrounded by your things. For once, he has no idea what to say; you see it in the way he looks at you, the way he freezes, wide-eyed and almost afraid.

“My research presentation was today,” you start. “It went great. They’re going to publish it in a journal.”

You watch his face crumple right before your eyes, watch the way his shoulders slump. He looks more defeated now than during any of his previous losses, and so, so incredibly guilty.

“But I thought it wasn’t until–...but it was, wasn’t it? Oh, god. I– I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“I know you are.”

You stand up. The smile you send him is tired and a little sad, but it’s not bitter, at least not anymore. You’re past that now. You’d like to think you both are.

“I’m so proud of you, Tooru. You work harder than anybody I’ve ever known. I just know you’re going to reach every single one of your dreams.”

You mean it, too. Oikawa has an incredible future ahead of him. You’ve always known that. Once upon a time, you believed you might be a part of it, but not anymore.

“...but I also know that I can’t be with you when you do. I can’t– I won’t be second place for the rest of my life.”

He’s incredibly stubborn, and this time is no different. He tries to change your mind, tries to convince you to stay, but it’s far too little and far too late. Too much has happened between you two, and you just don’t have it in you to be disappointed anymore.

You love him. You do. You always will, and you tell him so, too. But just because you love someone, you remind him softly, doesn’t mean you’re meant to be with them. You love him enough to let him go, and you’re hoping he loves you the same.

“But you promised you’d stay,” he whispers, more heartbroken than you’ve ever seen him over all of this, over you. “You promised we’d figure it out. And now...now you’re just giving up on us?”

You place your keys on the table. The clock in your– no, his kitchen ticks along. It matches the slow, broken beating of your heart. He’s run out of time, and you’ve run out of chances.

“That’s just it, Tooru. I have nothing left to give you.”

This time when you leave, you don’t look back.

Written by: Dawn

#oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #haikyuu x reader #oikawa imagines #haikyuu imagines #oikawa x y/n #oikawa x you #haikyu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#hq x reader #our writing #oikawa angst #oikawa tooru angst #dawn writes

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headheartbellarke · 3 years

Text

I Wish You Would | CHARLIE GILLESPIE

Requested by anon: “hello🌼 could u please write a charlie x reader imagine when he posts a picture on his instagram story with a girl to makes his crush jealous, but she end up distancing herself from him bc she's hurt and respect what she thinks is his relationship” PAIRING(s): Charlie Gillespie x fem!reader WORDS: 2,445 WARNING(s): angst w a happy ending, some language SUMMARY: “I wish you knew that I'd never forget you as long as I'd live."

A/N: hi, everyone!! really, really sorry that this took so long. haven’t had the best march tbh, and writer’s block is a bitch. && this isn’t very good, either, but i had to get something done. love u <3

TEN HOURS EARLIER

“And… post!” Charlie taps his phone, grinning brightly.

Owen cheers from behind him, his voice meshing into the humdrum of the bar they’re currently at. “I’m so proud of you!”

His friend laughs, spinning around in the bar stool to face him. “She’ll finally understand what it feels like!”

Owen nods frantically, taking another sip of the drink in his hand.

Charlie copies his movement – a part of him knows that he is absolutely hammered, but the bigger part of him doesn’t care. He’s had a long day, and he deserves this.

Besides, how else would he and his best friend have thought of this wonderful plan if they didn’t have a billion drinks in their system?

PRESENT

A knock on the door pulls Y/N from her thoughts. “Come in!” She yells, but her voice comes out feeble and hoarse, probably from all the crying she’s been doing for the past hour.

As the door swings open, her best friend, Savannah, pokes her head in. “Hey, babe. You all right?”

Y/N sniffs. “M’fine.”

Savannah enters the room, closing the door softly behind her. She walks to the window, opening the curtains, and Y/N groans when light floods into the previously dark room.

She sits on the bed beside Y/N, and Y/N rests her head on her shoulder as she pulls the covers up to cover their bodies.

“I’m sure that they’re not dating.” Savannah says, wrapping an arm around her best friend.

Y/N chuckles sadly. “You don’t have to lie to make me feel better, Sav. I mean, in the photo, he was kissing her cheek. Literally. And he put a heart between them.”

Savannah sighs. “That’s so not Charlie, you know… kissing random girls in bars and posting pictures with them.”

“Yeah, that’s so not Charlie, because she’s not a random girl. Her name’s Francesca and she went to high school with him, so, technically, she’s known him longer, and probably better than me.”

“I – I had no idea.”

“Yeah.”

“Y/N, babe, just tell him about how you feel. I’m sure that he likes you too.”

“If he liked me, then he wouldn’t be kissing Francesca!”

Y/N exhales, as Savannah gulps, not knowing what to respond. “Y/N, I – I swear, he’s crazy about you. I don’t know what happened between last Friday and today, but I swear – the Charlie that I know – has eyes for no one but you.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, feeling a pang in her heart at Savannah’s words. “Savannah, we kissed and then he ghosted me for a day and now he’s posting pictures of him kissing another girl! I think he has eyes for everyone!”

Savannah bites her lower lip, not knowing what to respond, again. Her best friend feels tears prick at the back of her eyes when she says, “Maybe I’m a bad kisser.”

Savannah’s eyes widen, and she sits up, straight. “No. No. Babe, no. Don’t say that, ever. You’re a great kisser, okay! You’re an amazing kisser. Your lips are fine as hell, believe me. He’s the one with crusty ass lips. They’re not even lips, they look like… like… peanuts.”

Y/N stares at her best friend for a moment, before saying, “Peanuts, Sav? Really?”

“It’s the first thing that came into my mind!” She says defensively, before the girls break into a fit of laughter.

“I’m never talking to him again, ever.” Y/N says after they’ve calmed down. “I’m never even gonna look in his direction. Fucking asshole.”

Charlie sighs, taking another sip of his coffee. It’s eight in the morning, and he’s normally a morning person – he loves the mornings, the peace, the quiet, and the feeling that comes along with it more than anything, but right now, he just feels… sad.

On regular days, he would be talking to his best friend, Y/N, about everything that’s on his mind. But today’s different.

Last Friday, Y/N kissed him, and long story sort, it was the best thing that’s ever happened to him. After work that day, they went to get some food at a drive through, like they usually do. All throughout the ride, they made plans to go hiking once the production for season two finishes. She drove the car to a lookout, and oh, god, it was so pretty. The midnight sky was littered with stars, and since they were at the edge of town, there was less pollution, and they could see bits of the galaxy, too.

But, for some reason, the girl next to him seemed more beautiful than anything he’s ever seen, and after they finished eating, he just sat and stared at her talk about the last book that she’d read, for a while. He knows that it was terrible that he wasn’t listening – but how could he pay attention to anything when she looked like that, especially with passion illuminating her face like times square on New Year’s Eve?

She had looked at him as if he’d just grown a third head. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Li – like what?” He’d asked, embarrassed to be blatantly caught.

“Like that…” She’d said and kissed him, and it felt like he was seeing colour for the first time. Although, the next day, everything turned to shit.

Now, it’s Monday, and she’s nowhere to be seen. He desperately wants to know if his and Owen’s plan actually worked (no reason that it wouldn’t), and he feels so impatient right now, and he misses her. Also, his massive hangover isn’t helping, either.

He hears his name being called, and sees Kenny smiling at him.

“Hey, so we’re gonna do a different scene today, since Y/N and Savannah are out, is that okay with you?”

His heart races. “What happened to them?”

“Y/N’s sick, and Savannah’s taking care of her.”

“Oh. Yeah, it’s okay with me.” He says, feeling his heart sink to the bottom of his stomach.

“This is the last time I’m asking you this…” Y/N sings, wiping her nose with the sleeve of her sweater.

“Put my name at the top of your list!” Savannah sings, using Y/N’s straightener as a mic.

“This is the last time I’m asking you why!” Madison joins.

“You break my heart in the blink of an eye, eye, eye!” Jadah sings, jumping on the bed.

As the second verse comes on, the girls sit on Y/N’s bed, huddled close to each other.

“You know, I’m feeling better now than I did when I woke up.” Y/N says, resting her chin on her knees.

“Taylor Swift can fix anything.” Madison says, leaning her head on Y/N’s shoulder.

She nods. “And y’all. Thanks for being here.”

Jadah grins, wrapping an arm around her. “We couldn’t let you have a pity party all alone!”

Savannah laughs. “I’m gonna kill him, I swear.”

“As relieving as that would be, don’t. I’ve decided what I should do.”

Madison quirks a brow. “You’re gonna kill him yourself?”

“Madi! No. I’m gonna distance myself.”

Savannah tilts her head. “I think that maybe you two should talk it out.”

“I don’t think so. I need space, time to figure it out. My head feels like a mess. And I respect him and Francesca, and I’m not gonna dip my toes between them.”

The other girls solemnly nod their head.

“You do realize that that’s not actually the saying?” Jadah says, after a while.

“Don’t embarrass me, kid.”

Charlie exhales, watching his breath crystallize to tiny ice particles in front of him. Even though, he’s a Canadian, he still feels cold. Although maybe it’s not due to the weather, but due to the coldness in Y/N’s eyes.

He watches her chat with Jeremy a few feet away, both of them discussing something that is out of bounds to him. He knows that it’s probably decisions regarding their characters, considering Y/N’s character is Jeremy’s character, Reggie’s love interest, but a part of him feels like it’s shit about him.

He has no reason to feel that way, of course. He hasn’t spoken to Y/N in four days, and this morning, when he saw her after for what feels to be eternity, he was blatantly ignored. He had only watched helplessly as Y/N exited the room the moment he entered and had sunk into his chair feeling like absolute shit, especially with everyone’s pitiful stares.

Charlie’s mind keeps replaying each moment, torturing over every tiny detail, wondering what he did wrong.

And that’s when it hits him: she really doesn’t want him anymore.

Last Saturday, he had hopelessly watched her with her long-term boyfriend of god-knows-how-long – he had come to surprise her on set, and it was Charlie that was more surprised. Because he thought that they were over, for good. And it wasn’t like they seemed like they weren’t dating. They were acting just like they used to when they were dating, and he was too close to her for his comfort. They still laughed the same, joked around the same, and were just as inseparable as they used to be.

A question kept rising in Charlie’s mind, like an icicle to his heart: why would she kiss him when she already had someone else? Why would she give him hope, and then take it all away? Why would she dangle his hurt in front of him?

So, he decided to give her a taste of her own medicine, and posted a picture with Francesca, his high school friend, who he had run into that night.

Owen sinks into the chair beside Charlie. “You okay?”

“I’m starting to believe that our plan didn’t work.”

“Hey, uh, Y/N?”

The girl in question hears Charlie’s voice, and turns around, avoiding looking into his eyes.

“Can we talk?” He says, and for a moment, her defences are down again. He looks so… tired, almost like he’s going through the same things that she is. Almost like there’s an explanation as to why he broke her heart, why he ruined something that had the potential to be extraordinary, why he made her feel so bad about herself.

And she almost believes it, too. Like the fool she is.

She presses her lips into a thin line, and says, “Nothing to talk about.”

As Charlie opens his mouth to protest, she smiles and walks away.

“Okay, Charlie, you two need to talk it out. This is too much. Both of you are obviously hurting, and there’s obviously some serious miscommunication here.”

Charlie shakes his head at Savannah’s words. “She hates me.”

“No. She could never hate you.” She says, thrusting her phone in Charlie’s face. His eyes squint to read the text on the screen – from Y/N.

Sorry – forgot to leave a note. Drove down to Dad’s, gonna stay here for a while. It’s too painful – honestly, you know what? I’m still very, very, very mad at him. But I’m also missing him very, very, very much. So, I need to flush it out. Flush him out. He might be a jerk, but he’s still one of the best people that I’ve ever met. Love you, okay? Will return when the time is right.

Charlie’s eyes widen, and he stares at Savannah’s face for a while. “There – there is still hope!”

She nods frantically. “You should call her –”

“I’m gonna drive down to her dad’s house, too!”

“That works, too.”

A frantic knock on the front door pulls Y/N from her thoughts. She stops typing on her keyboard, and flips the lid shut, keeping it on the dining table in front of her.

She runs to her dad’s door, knowing that it’s him, back from his shopping. She opens the door, saying, “Let me take those for – Charlie?!”

Y/N’s heart swells at his sight as he grins sheepishly.

“So, there’s been some misunderstandings… can I come in?” He asks, and Y/N pauses, considering.

He sighs, and adds, “Please?”

She stares at him.

He juts his bottom lip out. “Pretty please?”

“Fine, come in.”

He closes the door behind him, wordlessly following Y/N, who feels like she might hurl right now. They sit on the couch, and it’s really, really awkward for a few seconds.

Y/N sighs. “You said you –”

“Yes. Yes, yeah. OK, so – I, uh, I –”

She couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Why would you do that to me? Do I really mean that little to you?”

“I could say the same about you!”

“Really?”

“Yes! I saw you with Shahid that day, I know that you two are back together –”

“Shahid?!”

“Yes!”

She stares at him, baffled.

“So…so… Francesca….”

“I only posted the picture to make you jealous! She asked me if I wanted to go out with her and the rest of my high school friends, and of course I went, and she saw that I was being a little… unsocial. So, I told her about how the girl that I’m completely crazy about has a boyfriend! And a long term one at that, too! And then Owen came up with a brilliant plan, and I guess you know what it was. Now, I’m realizing that it might not have worked.”

She stares at him for a moment, before she bursts out laughing. Charlie throws her a confused look.

“You – you thought that Shahid – Shahid, my best friend since we were in nappies, Shahid who is married to this amazing man, and at whose wedding I was the maid of honour – you thought that I was dating him?”

“He’s gay?!”

“Bisexual. Oh my god, I have to tell him. This is hilarious.”

Charlie bites the corner of his lower lip, feeling his cheeks heat up. “This is really embarrassing. But you two act like you’re dating!”

“No, we don’t. You’re just being insecure and jealous. I’ve known him forever, and yes, I am the most comfortable around him. Because he’s my family. He’s my brother. Oh, god, I can’t believe that you were jealous of him – wait, have you thought that we were dating this whole time?”

“Kind of. I thought you guys broke up when he didn’t visit you on set during the first two months of production.”

“He was helping feed kids in Somali.”

“Oh. Oh. God, I feel so –”

“Dumb? That’s because you are.”

He grins sheepishly, his cheeks crimson.

Y/N smiles. “But I forgive you. And I wouldn’t mind if you took me on a proper date this time.”

“Deal. Also, promise that we’ll always talk it out before… you know… doing anything?”

She laughs, and nods. He wraps his pinkie finger around hers.

“Well, Owen’s plan did kind of work, though.”

271 notes · View notes

leahseclipse · 3 years

Text

Unexpected visit

“Could you do a one-shot about Spencer and y/n aka his secret long term gf. They have a baby together and Spencer hasn't told the team for security reasons and one day y/n passes by the BAU when returming from a baby check up or smth and she goes to see him (with the baby), completely forgetting that they don't know anything and the baby (who can talk a little) calls him dada in front of everyone and the team is just left in shock. And just pure chaos ensues (aka everyone loving the baby genius)”

Requested by: @enchantedthoughts

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff

Warnings: None that I can think of, just cute dad!spencer

Summary: Spencer and his girlfriend had a child together that stayed a secret for security reasons; but when the reader happens to go to the bureau one day, the visit, supposed to be casual, turns into a surprising revelation that no one expected.

Word count: 1.8 k

A/N: AAAAA TYSM- It’s like, my very very first request, and I was so excited the day I went into my inbox to see that ;;;;;;;- you have no idea how happy u made me by sending me a request- I hope that you'll like it,, I currently don’t have a child and never took care of one, so excuse me for the mistakes I've did for the behaviour and stuff,,,

(The fic hasn't been checked over so I'm sorry if there's any mistakes.)

When their daughter was born, they didn’t quite expect what had followed next. It was really difficult, but, the only complication that was to be taken into account was to not let anything slip out about her.

As much as Spencer wanted to, he couldn’t mention her at work, after both him and y/n had discussed the possible risks. Of course, the possibility of them occurring are not frequent, but not impossible as Spencer insisted during the chat they’ve had.

He had thought that it would be better to keep her as a secret for security reasons after witnessing what had happened around him; whether with people he was close with, or people he’d encounter with during cases, or at work.

On y/n’s side, she only happened to be working part-time at a small café, she’d mainly take orders and eventually clean, but she wasn’t very close with them, and had her daughter before she began working there, so whether she had let them know or not, nothing much would have changed.

Even though her job wasn’t as dangerous and totally not the same as Spencer’s, it also was preferable not to say anything else, she just decided not to inform her colleagues either.

At first, keeping the secret wasn’t as easy as they’d thought, but the only thing that they both wanted was to keep her safe, and it if meant that they couldn’t share it, especially for Spencer, as his team was as his family, they had to do with it, their child’s safety would go first.

They had managed to keep up with both their works and personal lives; Spencer would often have to take calls where no one could hear nor see him so he could see her.

It really was surprising to see him with a different phone, his old phone wasn’t the one to be usually seen, but he couldn’t resist to see her.

Spencer happened to be less at home than y/n, so video calls were a solution to be with her, in a way.

After that, the sudden change eventually had to be explained, as he wasn’t the kind to even touch a computer usually.

They had wished that the phone would be the only explanation to do, but Spencer’s work had decided otherwise.

Spencer didn’t seem to find excuses that would be seen as serious, or even understandable when the time to step aside for having time with his family when she was born had come.

It had eventually went well, really. More than expected.

Even if he couldn’t be home as he wanted to after he had to go back to work full-time, he really appreciated the little time he’d have with them.

He really didn’t expect all of this to happen at all just a few years ago, but he couldn’t wish for better now.

Both appreciated being with their daughter everyday, they’d get to discover more and more about her and enjoyed every moment they’d spend all together.

She had even begun talking a bit, sometimes some blabbering, or even fairly understandable words; like ‘dada’ or ‘mama’ recently, along with many others, including some invented ones.

They have been amazed by the number of stuff she’d learn each day, and couldn’t wait to see more.

Unfortunately, it’d have to wait.

She had a couple of appointments scheduled to see how she was doing, and happened to have one today, so ‘admiration time’ would have to wait.

Luckily, the appointment was on one of y/n’s days off, which could be attended without having to look for someone to cover her shift, or for Spencer to excuse himself if he didn’t happen to be on a case.

As expected, it didn’t take much time and she wasn’t fuzzy or anything, she was really calm for once, it really wasn’t surprising. She was usually calm in general and wouldn’t cause much problems.

But now that the appointment was done, she didn’t happen to have much on her schedule, and she could either go home or take a walk with her.

The weather seemed nice...ish, but she wasn’t so sure. She could, perhaps...pretend that Spencer forgot something, and go to his work?

That seemed like a good idea, and totally what she wanted to do.

Y/N had first decided to make a quick trip back to the apartment to catch some stuff she’d probably need, before heading to the car towards the bureau, it didn’t take much, just about twenty minutes, and plus, her daughter happened to be a bit sleepy, which was quite nice instead of having her cry the whole ride.

She had never come here at all, only walked by it or saw it when she happened to drive by, but never had she actually stepped inside.

She didn’t even know where to go, and even find where the hell Spencer could be, the only information she’d had was that he could possibly be at the 6th floor, somewhere in a room with desks.

Wow, very helpful.

The desks are literally EVERYWHERE.

She didn’t know what any of them looked like, she had only heard from them, and if Spencer showed her pictures of them, that must have been a while ago, because she barely remembers a single one.

That’s when she began to ask herself what the hell she was doing here.

How was she going to do, if literally, no one knew her, and, now that she realises, isn’t really supposed to be here.

She probably...got herself into a mess. Probably.

Y/N had swore that the universe was against her, because just when she had stepped in the ‘room with desks’, a couple of voices could be heard from the small staircase leading to a corridor.

“Y/N?” A familiar voice asked, which seemed a bit...nervous as well.

She tried her best not to let too much emotions show on her face, as she was literally around at least...eight profilers.

“Dada!” The child that she held in her arms yelled, as she pointed at Spencer.

Definitely screwed.

It’s over.

“Did that child just call him dad, or did I misheard it?” A blonde woman -probably JJ- asked, looking around as if she looked for approbation.

“You didn’t misheard it.” They all said.

In the meantime, y/n and Spencer just looked in the void, definitely realising that the secret they had tried to keep had just exposed them.

They wouldn’t have thought once that their own child would expose them.

“I think we may own everyone here an explanation, no?” Y/N hesitantly asked, looking at Spencer as if he could make the situation less worse than it already was.

“...we do.” Spencer answered, walking up to where his girlfriend was.

“For how long have you been hiding this beautiful girl and that cutie…?”

“Uh...I’ve been with her for...almost four years, and she’s going to be two soon.” Spencer answered, looking at Penelope. “You guys are really worrying me, is something wrong?”

“No, it’s just that...we’re, really, really, surprised. Especially for the child.”

“Yeah, it uh...mainly was for security reasons, for both of them. It if wasn’t for that, you guys would have already known.”

“At least uh...you know me, and I know you guys.” Y/N said, trying to break the silence.

“It’s really wow...she has Spence’s eyes too.” JJ told, a small smile on her face.

“She’s way too cute, no wonder why she’s so beautiful, look at her parents.” Penelope gestured at the couple.

“You really did hide them from us for a while.” One of the men said, as y/n just looked in confusion. “Oh, I’m uh, Matt.”

“Y/N. It’s uh…a bit overwhelming, there’s a lot of people I don’t know. I know names, but not which name to put on who’s face.

“It wasn’t...planned.” Spencer joined, pulling her close to reassure her.

"It's ok, don't worry. It won't change anything, we love you as much as we loved you before, we're happy to know that everything is going well with your small family."

"Yeah, I was aware of that, I've heard a lot of good stuff about everyone, I was just afraid. It's been a while since we got together, and had her, so it sure was surprising to know that your genius had a small family without anyone knowing." Y/N said, looking down at the small girl in her arms.

"It sure wasn't easy. I've had to find an excuse for whatever family member when I needed to take care of her. At least, I don't have to create an excuse about an imaginary aunt anymore." Spencer admitted.

"And also, if uh…we do have another one, you won't have to find a super difficult excuse, that time."

"Oh, yeah...that."

"That, yeah. I've had her before I began working, so I didn't have explanations to do. Now uh...am I supposed to let them know?"

"If you want to. It's already too late here. Our own child exposed us, even, if it was a bit too late to get out of that mess from the moment everyone saw her. Hm?"

"A...bit too late. But, as she was great today, we can excuse her."

"Mhm. We can." Spencer agreed, as he looked at the people around along with y/n.

"So, everything's good?" Y/N asked.

"Of course! We're not upset or anything, it was just surprising at first. But now that I know about you two, you don't imagine the number of gifts and attention you're about to get." Penelope clearly did everyone else know that she wouldn't take her attention off them for a while.

"I can imagine. She's going to have a lot of aunts and uncles now that she has everyone here, she's going to be so spoiled." Y/N joked.

"You have no idea." A black haired woman said, she probably was Emily.

"Do you have time right now? You could stay for a bit, we don't have much to do." Spencer asked Y/N, to which she was quick to answer by nodding.

"Yeah, I am. Plus, after that, I don't think that I would get to go home before answering a million questions." Y/N said, trying to not look more stressed that she already was.

"Yay! We get to spend more with them!" Garcia said, visibly excited at the idea.

Even though nothing of that was planned to happen for a while, it went well overall. Of course, they would have preferred to wait a bit more, but they can't do much now.

The positive point is that she'll get to talk about her freely now, especially with his co-workers now that they know.

They've all been surprised, but very welcoming. They all reassured her and she really liked their presence.

Y/N really knew what Spencer meant when he considered them as family, they really were as a real one, and now, she gets to be a part of it along with their daughter.

The unexpected visit turned out to be a surprising revelation, that again, surprisingly turned out into a joyful mess.

---

Tags: @homoose ;

#criminal minds #spencer reid #cm #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fluff #cm fic #matthew gray gubler fic #Matthew Gray Gubler

289 notes · View notes

damnlance · 3 years

Note

21 please

Klance prompt #21

21. “Where did you get all these bruises from?”

Summary: Keith shows Lance his bruises and tells him where and when he got them.

It’s been eight days since the mission with The Blade.

The failed mission.

Keith can’t stop thinking about it. It's deep in his head. Flashes behind his eyes every time he closes them. It’s all over his body. Literally.

Dark purple and black bruises decorate his arms and legs and torso. Cuts and scrapes on his face. He deserves it, though. It’s his fault the mission went so badly. He swore he had everything under control. He said all the right things that he rehearsed over and over before landing on that freezing cold, yet weirdly humid, planet. He was calm and straightforward, but not demanding in any way. Or.. at least he thinks he wasn’t..

He still doesn’t know when everything went wrong. They were there to make peace with this planet, called Nagara, and offer them all the food, water, and supplies they needed to rebuild their planet after all the destruction and damage from the war 3 years ago. It was Keith’s job as the frontman and spokesperson to provide the aliens of the planet with a state of peace and safety since the war was over now.

But.. somewhere along the lines, Keith said the wrong thing. Or he did the wrong thing? Or he.. said and did the wrong thing at the same time and it made the Nagarians angry? He doesn’t know and he won’t know. His ears are blank to his own voice and words when he tries to replay the moments, seconds, before everything went wrong.

It doesn’t matter. He will never forget the way his mother looked at him after everything.

Her face was filled with pure rage. A look Keith has only ever seen if she was fighting the enemy. Never looking at him. And Kolivan? Oh, don’t even get him started on Kolivan.

Because what happened was so bad, Kolivan put Keith on a temporary suspension. Meaning he would sit out of all things ‘providing humanitarian relief to other planets’ and so on. That meant no meetings, debriefings, or socialization of any kind involving their mission to restore peace, and he would have to watch a four hour long video on what and what not to do during peace negotiations on otherworldly planets.

He was on complete lockdown and it was fucking pathetic.

Not only did he not bother to watch that stupid, long video. Instead, he kept himself locked in his room on the giant galra ship, not interacting with a single galran soul. Including his mother and Kolivan. He couldn't handle the scalding glares or the whispering in the hallways whenever he left to try to get some type of food in him. It was too much. And it’s what everyone was expecting of him. But not as Keith himself. As a mixed breed; a half galra, half human.

After six days of being temporarily suspended, Keith couldn’t handle anything anymore. It was too much and he was tired of literally everything, so he packed up all the shit he could gather, grabbed his trusty space wolf, and left in his galra cruiser without notifying anyone.

Now, here he is, a day out. The ride down to earth is.. pretty uncomfortable to say the least. His cruiser isn’t as big as it looks and with Kosmo tagging along and his giant duffle bag, it’s a little cramped. But it doesn’t matter, because he’s almost to his destination, and he can’t wait to land. Because yeah okay, he’s suspended temporarily, but that doesn’t mean he can’t get away for some quality Keith time. A little vacation never hurt anyone. And he knows just who he wants to spend his free time with.

knock knock knock!

Lance jerks awake. The first thing his tired eyes land on is the ceiling. It’s dimly lit and as his pupils unblur from the sleep still in them, he can hear the static of the tv that’s still on from some boring action movie he decided to watch. The once fresh bowl of popcorn on the coffee table has run cold long ago and the pitter patter of water droplets hitting the roof from the outside can be heard as well.

Lance sits up slowly and stretches his arms above his head, a yawn slipping its way out of his mouth as he tries to register reality around him. It takes him a few seconds to wake up and when he does, he remembers that it was a knock that woke him in the first place. He carefully stands, slipping his bare feet into the slippers on the floor just next to the navy blue colored couch, and walks over to the front door, hugging himself.

As soon as he opens the door, the pouring rain is louder. And Keith is standing there. Soaking wet with a big duffel bag in one hand and a leash that’s connected to the collar on Kosmo’s neck in the other hand.

“Keith!?” Lance is ten times more awake now as he quickly moves aside to let Keith and Kosmo in. “Oh, shit man, you’re soaking wet! Let me go grab some towels!”

“Thanks,” is the first word out of Keith’s mouth. It’s shy and embarrassed but Lance doesn’t pay any mind to it as he rummages through the towel closet next to the hallway bathroom. He comes back and wraps a big towel around Keith’s shoulders, taking the duffle bag from his hand and setting it next to the smaller couch by the bay window in the living room. Lance takes the other towel, kneeling down to begin drying off Kosmo. Kosmo licks his face as he does it and it makes Lance smile, tossing and turning his head away from the alien wolf’s freakishly long tongue. Once he’s finished, Lance stands and finds Keith on the couch, discarding his wet clothes. He walks over and sits on the coffee table directly in front of him.

“Keith?” He asks, the tone in his voice full of wonder and confusion, but also worry.

“I’m fine,” Keith answers, a sigh leaving his lips. He looks at Lance through his long, wet bangs and sends him a weak but reassuring smirk. “I decided it was time for a.. a small break.”

Lance doesn’t look convinced, sitting there twiddling his thumbs. “How small?”

Keith shrugs, losing their eye contact. “Couple weeks, tops.”

“Weeks sound like a long time to be away..” Lance bites his lower lip, his bed head, or couch head in this situation, making Keith want to reach over and pat his hair down. “I feel like there’s something else I’m missing here.”

A sigh. “Later, Lance, okay? I’m tired and wet and cold, and I just want to shower and lay down, if that’s alright?” He finally looks back over to those dark blue eyes in the dark living room and then, a small nod and a smile.

“Sure,” Lance says, this time with more confidence, but his eyes scan over the scrapes and scratches on Keith’s face. “Let me help you out with your suit.”

They both stand and Keith turns around for Lance to unzip it from the back. He moves his long wet hair over his right shoulder and puts his head down. The literal second that Lance grabs that zipper, Keith remembers how his body looks. And if Lance thinks his face is bad, just wait til he sees his body. Keith jerks away and it startles Lance as he almost trips over the coffee table.

“Keith!? What the he-!?”

“I-I just remembered!” Keith looks everywhere but Lance’s eyes now. “I smell horrible underneath this suit a-and I really don’t want you to smell me, so I’ll just head to the bathroom now!”

“What??” Lance scoffs. “A-are you sure?? I don’t mind a little stink, Keith, I’ve smelled you right after a fight with the-!”

“I’m sure.” Keith nods. He sends a nervous smile towards Lance and quickly leans forward to plant a quick kiss to his cheek. He grabs his duffel bag and b lines it for the guest room, closing the door behind him. Lance watches his every move, then turns back to look at Kosmo who is looking right at him.

“What was that about??” He asks the wolf. Kosmo tilts his head, ears popping up. Lance sighs and begins his walk towards his kitchen. “Come on, boy. You must be hungry.”

Keith wipes the foggy mirror with his hand, exhaling a breath of relief from the heavenly shower he just took. He takes the smaller towel from around his neck and dries his hair, ruffling it up in the process. His eyes scan his tired face and exhausted body. The bruises that decorate his pale skin are of dark purples and blues and blacks. They’re eight days old, but they still hurt like crazy. Keith eyes the one right below his left pec. It’s purple with yellow blotches and he presses down on it just to see and the pain that zips down his spine is more than enough warning to tell him to stop. A deep sigh leaves his mouth as he pushes his hair back and ties it up in a messy bun.

knock knock! “Keith? You okay?”

Keith nearly jumps at Lance’s voice. “U-uh, yeah! I’ll be out in a second.”

“Okay.” The concern in Lance’s voice eases. “No rush, though.”

Keith sighs again. He has to tell Lance. Has to show him. Sure, he’ll freak out and never want him to leave again but.. if he gets it over with, there won’t be any more surprises if Lance wants to touch him again.

A soft smile graces Keith’s lips as he thinks about the man just on the other side of the door. They’ve been through a lot. Individually. Together. And even though it’s only been three years, they still suffer through the after effects of the war. They all do.

Lance gets nightmares. About a lot of things. He says his nightmares feel so real, and sometimes it’s hard to decipher if his nightmares really happened or not. It scares him and has left him very vulnerable in more situations than he likes to admit. There’s a lot more than just the nightmares; flashbacks in the middle of the day, jumping at loud noises, never leaving his home because he feels like everywhere he turns, some species-less threat is gonna come out and attack him, Allura’s sacrifice. Yeah. It’s a pretty long list. But with therapy, his family and friends’ support, and Keith, he’s come a very long way to recovery.

Keith on the other hand got most of the paranoia. Even though he still works in space with his galran colleagues, he still can’t help but get that itch underneath his skin that someday, someone will turn on him and try to attack him. It could happen at any time. Any day or night. Anywhere. Because of this fear, he doesn’t get much sleep, and is very overprotective of his friends. Of his mother. Even his space wolf. His knife has become like a permanent extension to his hand, he never goes anywhere without it. Keeps it underneath his pillow, in his back pocket, in his boot, anywhere that’s easy enough to reach so he can defend himself if need be. He’s even accidentally pulled it on all of his friends at least once. Even on Lance, who barely even flinched at the time. It’s safe to say that no one can ever sneak up on him.

And somehow, through all their damage, Keith and Lance still found each other. It wasn’t right away. And it wasn’t planned, either. It’s just.. happened. They barely talked after the war ended, and unpurposely drifted apart. Keith busied himself in his work with The Blade, and Lance distanced himself away from everyone.

But one year ago, around Christmas, Keith came back to spend the holiday with Shiro and Curtis. Little did he know, they were gone for the holidays, so Keith, and Krolia, decided to stay with Lance and his huge family. Lance was so happy to see him, he couldn’t dare to say no. ‘The more the merrier,’ his mother Rosa said. So, while Keith and Lance spent the time shopping together and baking cookies and wrapping gifts and getting drunk on eggnog, Krolia learned a lot of the Christmas Earth traditions and Cuban recipes from Rosa and even got a few surprise presents from Lance’s niece and nephew. She cried because she didn’t know what else to do. Happiness always makes Krolia cry. Keith bought Lance a red Paladin mug with his face on it that he saw at some flea market on one of their stops on some random planet, and Lance bought Keith a giant blanket to keep him warm while he was away in space. The emotions were flying, the eggnog was settling and long story short, they ended up sleeping together, with every ounce of consent they could muster. It’s still one of the greatest nights of Keith’s life.

They’ve been together since then, five months, and even though they don’t have a label on what they are, Keith is happy this way. He likes being label-less with Lance. He likes having a home to come back to, with a warm kitchen, a warm bed, and a warm body. He likes the open space and how much Kosmo and Kaltenecker get along. He likes how much Kosmo adores Lance and his homemade space wolf food, just for him. He likes that Lance buys stuff for him to have when he’s away so he has new things to come back to. New slippers. A new comfy robe. New matching pajamas. A new toothbrush. Keith likes Lance. And everything that they are in the moments they’re together. And although he knows Lance is still grieving over Allura and that it could take a couple more years until he’s ready for a real relationship, Keith would take this over anything. Any day.

As he emerges from the bathroom, he doesn’t bother putting on all of his clothes, just his red paladin boxer briefs. He and Lance have seen each other naked plenty of times, and he’s very comfortable in his skin around Lance. Lance has that effect on him. So when he walks out in just his boxer briefs and a white cotton towel around his neck, he’s got absolutely nothing to hide. Except, maybe not giving Lance a heart attack tonight. Keith hides behind the wall just before the entryway to the living room and curses himself for what he’s about to do.

“H-hey.. Lance?”

“Yeah?” Lance says, something like food in his mouth. “Where are you, man?”

“I’m…” Keith sighs. “Can you just.. cl-close your eyes for a sec.. please?”

“Uh,” Lance shrugs, Keith can hear from his clothes rumpling up. “Sure.”

Keith peeks around the corner and sees that Lance’s eyes are sealed shut. Kosmo is on the floor next to him, sound asleep. His tongue is hanging out just the slightest bit as snores leave his mouth. Keith smiles at the sight and looks back to Lance. He’s so beautiful. This guy has done some much for him and more. Before the war, during, and now after. He’s the greatest guy that Keith could’ve asked for.. greater than that. With that in mind, Keith steps out from behind the wall and walks over to Lance before his brain tells him that this is all a bad idea. The living room is still dim, only illuminated by the television and the lamp next to the couch Lance is sitting on, but it’ll be more than enough light to see Keith’s battered body.

Once Keith is in front of Lance, he closes his own eyes, fists clenched down by his sides.

“Okay.. now on the count of three, you can open your eyes.. but don’t freak out. Got it?”

Lance lets out a small snort. “Yes, Keef, I got it.”

Keith rolls closed eyes and sticks his nails into the palms of his sweaty hands. “Alright.. one.. two.. three..”

Lance’s eyes open. The breath that gets caught in his throat is enough to send Keith’s gut dropping out of his ass and into the floor.

“Holy shit!” Lance is up, eyes roaming Keith’s entire body. “W-what the fu-!?”

Keith opens his eyes and is face to face with Lance. They’re almost the same height, Keith’s got him by a few inches easily, and the look on Lance’s face is enough to send Keith into cardiac arrest.

“I-I’m fine, Lance, really-”

“No, you’re not!” Lance cuts him off, wanting to reach out but too afraid to do so. Keith’s tone, muscular body is a canvas of dark colors and spots of different shapes. No wonder he jumped earlier, Lance could have hurt him even more than he already looks. A shaky breath leaves Lance’s mouth as he meets Keith’s dark eyes. “What happened to you, love?”

Love. The pet name actually sends Keith’s into cardiac arrest, he’s sure of it. But as soon as Lance cups his face with both of his big, warm hands, it’s over for Keith. His eyes begin to water and his throat closes up on him so that he can’t talk. Tears fall down his cheeks as he looks down to the floor between him and Lance. His bottom lip quivers and when Lance tilts his head back up to look at him again, a sob slips its way out of Keith’s mouth.

“Oh, Keith,” Lance coos, bringing Keith into a big, gentle hug. Keith hugs him back, sobbing into his shoulder. “Baby..” Lance whispers.

Keith just continues to sob. He didn’t even know he had been holding back for so long. But here, in Lance’s arms, he can feel everything that’s been bottled up coming out of his throat and from his teary eyes. Lance only continues to hold him, rubbing his soft hands up and down Keith’s pale bruised back.

Keith doesn’t know how long this goes on. How long he cries. How long Lance holds him. But somewhere in the middle of it all, they’ve moved to Lance’s room. Keith sits on Lance’s bed, wiping his red, teary eyes and snotty nose with a tissue. Lance rummages through his bathroom drawer for some numbing ointment that he recently bought for his back and feet from working out on the farm five days a week. When he returns, Keith is done crying. He sits up straight and removes the white towel from around his neck. Lance stands in front of him and kneels between his open legs. He stares at them. At the bruises and scratches and scabbed gashes.

“I..” he starts, clearing his throat from what has to be a lump forming. “I got this.. numbing cream. It’ll help a lot.”

Keith stares down at him as he talks, his voice is so quiet and gentle.

“Can I..?” Lance asks, looking up to meet Keith’s red eyes.

“Yeah.” Keith nods.

Lance uncaps the ointment, squirting a good amount into the palm of his hand. He sets the tube down and rubs his hands together. Then, he gently, gently, places them on Keith’s bruised thighs and begins rubbing the ointment around.

Keith clenches his jaw, hands fisting in the comforter on Lance’s bed. He lets out the air from his nostrils and feels the pain slowly turning into relief. He looks down and watches as Lance works his hands in circular motions, gently rubbing the ointment onto Keith’s injuries.

“..keith…?“ Lance whispers, eyes focused on his hands covered with ointment that’s slowly making his hands numb.

“Yeah..?” Keith answers back, looking at the ceiling of Lance’s room. Those glow in the dark stars are still there.

“How…” Lance clears his throat. “W.. Where did you get all these bruises from?”

Keith sighs. “..blade mission.. gone wrong..”

Something in Lance’s eyes darken. “What? W-when?? How?? W-Where!?”

“Um..” Keith can’t even look at Lance anymore. The worry in his eyes is too much. “A.. Week ago.. on some planet called Nagara. It was.. all my f.. my faul..” The tears are back. Keith blinks them away and sniffs quietly, looking down at his hands in his lap. He can feel himself sinking back to that day, to that mission. He remembers it all so clearly.

They landed on Nagara. The planet was really cold. He and The Blade were greeted by a tall figure who looked similar to an earth bear. They were big, round, had dark eyes all around, sharp teeth and a snout. Three rows of antenna grew out of their foreheads as well as horns of all shapes and sizes going down their backs and spines. And giant sharp claws for fingers. They looked vicious. And they made it very clear that they didn’t like the Galra.

Keith made the first move. He spoke in a calm voice and made his intentions clear; he and The Blade were only there to help and provide the planet with anything they needed. They had food, water, clothes, and building supplies ready on their ships and were 100% committed to fixing up this planet and its species from the after effects of the war. But their King, King Arxuan, wouldn’t let them go any further until they explained what they were doing there. So Keith did.

He explained it all. Voltron won. Zarkon dead. Princess Allura saved the universe. Keith is the red and black Paladin. The Blade of Marmora is good. The Blade of Marmora is here to help. But Keith being Keith.. he’s not too good with his words. Everything sounded fine in his head. And when it came out of his mouth? Completely different.

“We are The Blade of Marmora,” Keith started. “We’re here to provide supplies to your helpless planet that has clearly been affected by the war and-”

Record scratch. Yeah, poor choice of words on Keith’s end. But they left his mouth so fast that his brain couldn't keep up. The King and his subjects didn’t like it one bit and before Keith could keep up with his offensive word vomit, the Nagarians drew their weapons and like a firework, everything went up in flames.

Keith didn’t mean to offend anyone.. and he didn’t mean it like that. But the Nagarians didn’t know or care how he meant it. They attacked within seconds of Keith’s poor choice of words and thank god for his team’s fast reflexes, otherwise his head would not be on his shoulders and he wouldn’t be sitting here on Lance’s bed.

Legs criss crossed on Lance’s bed, the strong minty scent of numbing cream filling the room.

His fingers locked with Lance’s as Lance rubs his thumb over Keith’s fingers.

Gently.

Domestically.

Lovingly.

Keith feels warmth bloom in the pit of his stomach as he stares down at Lance who’s sitting on the floor in front of him. Those deep blue eyes staring back so affectionately. Altean markings just barely glowing in Lance's dim room.

Lance swallows and squeezes Keith’s hand. “Are you alright?”

“I am now..” Keith shrugs, looking at the floor. “But these last few days have been hell.. and the guilt I have for almost killing my team has.. been..”

Lance nods, understanding. He comes up off of the floor and sits next to Keith. The second his arm goes up, Keith is there leaning into his side, nuzzling into his neck. His cheeks are wet with tears again and quiet sobs leave his throat.

“It’s okay, Keith,” Lance nods, planting a gentle kiss atop Keith’s head. “We all make mistakes. Some worse than others. but.. what matters now is that you’re here. You’re alive. And safe.”

Keith nods, sniffling as tears and snot run down his face. He’s had everything balled up until this very moment. The guilt. The shame. The way Kolivan and his mother looked at him. The way the other Blade members blamed him. None of that mattered anymore. Because here, in Lance’s heavenly embrace, he was fine. He was gonna be alright.

“You’re safe, love..” Lance reassures him. “I’ve got you.”

And he does. Lance holds Keith tight, holds him close. Lance lets him cry and doesn’t judge him. He’s just.. there for him. And it’s everything Keith needed.

Keith wakes up in Lance’s bed.

Blanket crowding his entire body. His long hair is literally everywhere around his face and neck and shoulders. The golden sun is shining through the blinds of the window, making him squint a tiny bit, and the pain from the bruises on his body are somewhat bearable..

There’s a smell hitting his nostrils that makes his mouth water and stomach grumble in a hunger he didn’t know he had. When he sits up, Kosmo is right there beside him, curled up in a ball, staring at him. Keith smiles at the space wolf and reaches to pet his head.

“Hey there, boy.” He rubs behind Kosmo’s ears, chuckling a little when Kosmo nuzzles into his hand. Suddenly, flashes of last night come flooding back to Keith’s mind and he groans out, covering his face. Sure, crying his eyes out all night long and being comforted by Lance, his friend-boyfriend-whatever-they-are was nice, BUT crying your eyes out all night long and and being comforted by Lance, his friend-boyfriend-whatever-they-are took a lot out of Keith. He’s tired. Mentally. Physically. Emotionally. He just wants to spend the rest of his time away from work relaxing with the only person he wants to be with in the entire universe. And Kosmo.

And as if on cue..

“Keith?” Lance’s voice is soft. “You awake, yet?”

Keith looks over to the door and sees Lance popping his head into his own room. When their eyes meet, Keith can feel the undeniable spark between them and it causes his heart to do something funny beneath his rib cage. He smiles a bit shyly and brings his legs up to a criss-cross position, Lance’s puffy space themed blankets bunching up around Keith’s waist.

“Morning..” Keith answers, tucking his long hair behind his ear.

Lance’s eyes never leave his as the Cuban boy finally enters the room, two plates full of food in each of his hands. Keith eyes the food and his stomach grumbles once again. The noise overthrows the silence in the room and Keith has to put his hands over his stomach to silence the sound. It didn’t work.

“Good morning to you, too,” Lance chuckles, setting Keith’s plate into his lap. “Guess I don’t have to ask if you’re hungry, huh?”

“Shut up..” Keith flushes and looks down at his full plate of food. Organic eggs, two fluffy pancakes, sweet turkey bacon and a buttery biscuit with strawberry jam decorate his plate beautifully. All of his favorite breakfast foods right there in front of him. Made by the man right beside him with a matching plate of food for himself.

“Dig in!” Lance says, his mouth already full of food. Keith doesn’t waste a second and obeys the words from Lance's mouth. They eat in a comfortable silence, Kosmo moving to the ground to collect any scraps they throw his way. After a while, Keith clears his throat and musters up the courage to look at Lance’s beautiful face.

“H-hey, uh.. Lance?” He whispers.

“Yeah?” Lance is staring at him now, blue eyes boring into him again.

Keith can’t breathe and he finds himself having to take a really deep breath before he continues.

“Thank you,” he pushes out of his throat, “for everything. For letting me cry in front of you, and.. for not judging me for it.”

Lance stops chewing and swallows. Keith quickly takes him all in before he gets caught; Lance’s messy brown curls, his gorgeous tan skin all over his bare torso, those cute little freckles all over his body, his Altean marks. Everything about him is so breathtaking and Keith can barely keep his heart at bay.

“You don’t have to thank me,” Lance says, breaking Keith’s thoughts. Their eyes meet again. “I’m here for you no matter what, Keith. You have to know that by now.”

“I-I do,” Keith nods, tucking his lower lip between his teeth. He sets his plate onto the bedside table next to him and scoots closer to Lance. As if completely on autopilot, he grabs Lance’s face and forces their eyes to meet once more. He stares deeply into those ocean blue eyes and fights the awkward urge to look away.

“Lance,” he starts, exhaling a breath that smells like eggs, bacon, and syrup, “I love you, so much. Thank you for always comforting me and being my right hand man.. you.. you are the light in my life, and I..”

Tears fill Keith’s eyes and to his surprise, Lance also sports some in his own eyes.

“I know,” Lance whispers, gaze moving from Keith’s eyes, to his lips, and back. “Like I said, you don’t have to thank me. I would do anything for you. Because.. I love you, too.”

The second Lance’s plate is out of the way, the two boys are kissing so fast, the air in their lungs can’t keep up. Lance pulls Keith close by the oversized t-shirt around his torso and clings to him for dear life. Keith does the same and cups Lance’s cheeks. Their kisses are full of passion, desperation, and love. And when they part, Lance is trailing those same kisses down Keith’s jaw, to his neck and his collarbones, kissing every visible bruise he can reach.

“I’m so happy you’re safe, my love,” He says between kisses on Keith’s neck. As he pulls back, Keith is smiling like Lance is his whole world.

“Me, too, Lance,” Keith answers, kissing the corner of Lance’s syrupy mouth, his cheeks and neck flushing red. “Me, too.”

-END-

(send me a klangst prompt)

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junicai · 3 years

Text

applause.

| order no. | 10/21

| summary | While filming for NCT2020, Aria fears her interview partner is coming down with a fever. Spoiler alert: He’s not.

| word count | 1.8k

| warnings | None

| era | circa. December 2020

a/n: ok so i figured i’d mark my return to posting with a lil floof for the soul :) before i ruin it again :) so here u go here are two idiots being idiots :)

Oftentimes, it was easy to forget just how many members NCT had amassed over the years. With the sub-units separated the majority of the time for their own promotions; the odds were that if you weren’t in a sub-unit with another member, you’d rarely interact with them outside of the company walls.

NCT2020 was incredible in that sense. Twenty three boys and one girl, all in one room, singing the same songs and performing together. The impact left on the spring-flooring when they danced as a group physically shook the mirrors.

They had a reputation to uphold; something which every single member took as seriously as a blood oath.

Aria, over the years, had formed bonds with most of the other boys. She hadn’t really had much of a choice in the matter; it was either, make friends with the people around you, or have no friends at all. It was lucky, in that sense, that they were all so warm and welcoming. She found her home in the 127 dorms, and later, her family with the Dreamies. She wouldn’t trade it for the world.

The fact remained, however, that when it came to Aria and WAYV - there was a gap. Be it because of the differing promotional schedules, or the fact that SM had point blank refused to acknowledge WAYV as a sub-unit of NCT up until the announcement of the NCT2020 promotions; the bottom line was, Aria didn’t know half of the members beyond their first name.

So, when the randomized name selection came out, and she was paired with Xiaojun; Aria took a deep breath, and reminded herself that this was a chance to start to form some new relationships.

She’d never been all too good at making friends as a child - always a little too shy, and then all of a sudden far too abrasive in a lost attempt to compensate for her earlier quietness.

Sitting beside the boy in question, Aria left her hands tucked beneath her thighs to prevent herself from fidgeting. The air between the two vocalists was thick; and Aria found herself looking around desperately for Mark or Ten or hell even Yuta, even though she knew Dejun was significantly more scared of him than her.

Anything to break the awkward, stifling silence that was hanging over the both of them.

“Do you-”

“Hey, I-”

They turned to face each other at the same time, sentences blending together before being cut off abruptly. Aria’s face flamed beneath the foundation, and by the darkening tips of Dejun’s ears, she could tell his cheeks were flushing as well.

“Go ahead.” He gestured with a nod.

“No no, it’s okay! What were you saying?” Aria disagreed.

“Uh, I was just wondering if you feel the breeze as well?” Dejun questioned, hands coming to tug his light jacket around his shoulders tighter. “It’s giving me goosebumps,” He laughed lightly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Aria frowned. “No? It’s quite warm in here I thought.” The pair were surrounded with several lamps that were shining large bulbs onto their faces. With the heat from them, and the blanket that she had tucked over the legs, Aria was toasty warm - but a quick glance at the thin material Dejun’s jacket was made out of had her untucking the corner and folding it out again.

“Here,” She offered, holding out the edge of the blanket.

“Oh no I can’t,” Dejun began to refuse, but a shiver ran down his spine, cutting his words up into pieces.

Aria raised an eyebrow. He relented.

“Thank you.” He acquiesced, once the soft material had been laid over his lap. He was still shivering lightly, but the body-shaking tremors had worn off, so Aria was better pleased than she was a minute ago.

“Okay!” A voice called from outside the set. “It’s just an interview, like you were both briefed. Feel free to take it where you want and - Aria can you just -” The director gestured to Dejun. “Don’t sit so far away, people will think you’re scared of him.” He teased.

Coughing lightly, Aria scooched towards Dejun, the blanket bunching up in-between their legs. She could feel him leaning back slightly, as if he was afraid of their faces being too close together.

“Little more.” He insisted, now peering at the two through the viewfinder of the camera.

Aria shuffled into the middle of the set’s sofa, her knee lightly brushing Dejun’s thigh.

“Better! Now just don’t look like someone’s about to shoot you.”

Aria opened her mouth before schooling her expression back into something less, terrified. “Sorry!”

This close, she could see the light flush that sat high on Dejun’s cheeks. His eyes were slightly glassy, and his chest was moving at a moderately quicker pace than it had been a few minutes ago.

Aria placed a hand on his arm, lightly, patting the exposed skin where he had rolled up the sleeves.

The filming went as well as it could. As they were told prior to entering the set; it was just a couple questions on how they were getting on together as a group, what it was like performing as a mix of all twenty three members, recounting some entertaining tidbits from the practice room or from behind stage.

Over the next hour, the icy feeling that had surrounded the two vocalists melted into a comfortable conversation, soon drifting away from the interview questions and flowing sweetly into a little chat that czennies were sure to adore.

With Dejun now turned to face Aria completely, and Aria sitting back with her shoes kicked off and her feet tucked beneath her; they were solely focused on each other; like the cameras had stopped rolling a half hour ago (They hadn’t) and they were old friends, catching up (They weren’t).

Aria learnt that Dejun had a penchant for green tea lattes, and the number eight. He slept on the top bunk, and was a lot funnier than his members gave him credit for.

Dejun learnt that Aria was a lot more accident prone than her ‘professional image’ would let on, that she has a dimple on her right cheek when she smiles, that when she smiles she beams - bright enough to beat out a lightbulb - and that her favourite colour was yellow and she still looked at the stars when she got homesick.

Aria learnt that Dejun wanted to travel to Paris one day, that he wanted to learn how to bake bread properly and that he stayed up too late playing games only to regret it the next morning every single time.

Dejun learnt that Aria had an addicting laugh; and he wanted to hear it as many times as he could. That he wishes she’d let herself laugh for longer; that she wouldn’t lift her hand to cover her face as she giggled.

His cheeks flushed brighter, the tips of his ears now a bright red.

“Dejun? Are you alright?” Aria leant forwards into his space, her face moving closer to his. She had noticed the poor boy’s flush over the course of the last hour; but the pink was slowly becoming a deep red, and her concern was deepening with it.

Dejun immediately pulled back; floundering. “Yeah! Yup, yes, absolutely fine.”

“Pardon?”

“I’m doing wonderful! Are you alright? Aria?” Dejun flipped the question on her, sweat beginning to bead beneath his fringe.

Aria squinted at him, relenting. “I’m okay, yeah. Are you still cold?”

“No!” The reply was sharp, and she jerked back a little.

“Oh- okay- sorry?” Aria pulled her bottom lip in between her teeth, worrying the skin lightly.

Dejun could have punched himself in the face, but he settled for pinching himself beneath the blanket where it was out of sight.

“Aaand, cut!”

The two vocalists turned to the director who was grinning madly. “That was perfect, you two. I don’t know what you did, or where you pulled that from, but you’re definitely the best duo we’ve had in here so far.”

Aria didn’t think that was hard, there had only been two other groups in before them, but she kept these words wisely to herself.

“You’re both free to go! I’ll expect to be seeing a lot more of you together though, this is going to go down an absolute treat.” The director’s smug little grin reminded Aria of a cat who had gotten the cream; and her own little grin formed to match it.

“Thank you,” The two bowed lightly towards the staff, before collecting their things from the set and shuffling towards the door again. Once outside, they were silent again - but this time the lack of noise was not unsettling.

“Hey I-”

“What about-”

Dejun and Aria looked at each other momentarily, before bursting out into laughter.

“Okay that has to stop.” She giggled, hand coming to rest on his arm.

“Agreed,” Dejun coughed out, ears flushing one final time.

“You sure you’re feeling alright? You looked a little flushed back inside; that’s all.”

“Fine!” He squeaked. “It must have been, uh, the lights, or something. Yeah.”

Aria puffed her cheeks out, but made no further comment.

Pulling away, she slipped her feet into the runners she was wearing for the interview - uncaring as to whether or not she’d accidentally break the backs of them. They were old ones, anyway, ones she’d been gifted as part of a brand deal that had fallen through; no wonder, she thought, as the shoes really were all look and no practicality. They were the least comfortable shoe she owned - and Aria owned a lot of uncomfortable shoes.

“’Til next time?” She straightened up, head turned to Dejun.

He nodded, going to extend a hand as Aria stepped forward to wrap her arms around him in a hug.

What followed, was a painstakingly awkward hand-body-shuffle-jerk dance that left Aria’s face flushed red from embarrassment and Dejun’s desire for the ground to open up and swallow him whole growing to immense proportions.

Eventually, Dejun moved away, waved, turned on his heel and borderline sprinted away back down the hallway before Aria had a chance to return the wave. He rounded the corner, slowing to a stop in anticipation of slamming his head into the wall. However, thinking against it, Dejun instead turned to put his back to the wall, sinking down against it; lifting a hand to smack himself in the forehead.

“Idiot.”

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sinnergetreadymp3 · 3 years

Text

CHAMERON FIC CHAMERON FIC CHAMERON FIC

Uhhhhh I feel like I should give this a title but I have no idea what to call so uh, nevermind !!

Anyways,I finally finished the fic I said I was writing like,a month ago lol. All my Chameron stans out there this one's for u,I rlly hope at least one person enjoys this,I rlly enjoyed writing it !! Ok sappy stuff outta the way,here it is:

As rain pounded against the window Charlie sent what was probably the thousandth crumpled ball of paper across the room.

"Jesus Charlie,is your arm not getting tired?"

Charlie smirked at that, clearly preparing to make a dirty minded joke,but a thoroughly exhausted Richard Cameron was already one step ahead.

"You know what,forget I asked, you're gross."

Getting up from the seat at his desk and ignoring an indignant retort from Charlie, Cameron thought of the rest of his friends,out for the weekend. Todd and Neil celebrating their one year anniversary, Meeks and Pitts embarking on a two day road trip,for what they still claimed to be, entirely platonic reasons (although the rest of the poets were all too aware of the almost palpable romantic tension between them). Even Knox had found something to do with himself on this miserable Friday night.

And here Cameron was,stuck in his dorm with nothing but stacks of extra homework and his obnoxious roommate to keep him company.

Speaking of that obnoxious roommate, "Oh come on Cam,you're not seriously going to bed already,it's barely eight!"

"Shut up Dalton,I'm tired."

Refusing to admit defeat, Charlie sprung from his own bed into Cameron's, attempting to wrestle the poor boy from his comfortable position.

"Charlie,get off you psycho!" Cameron managed to get out, already laughter threatening to give away just how welcome his friend's childish antics were.

After a few more minutes of "fooling around" as Charlie insisted on calling it (mostly because of how profusely it made Cameron blush),the two boys lay breathless beside each other,trying desperately to think of something else to do that would ward off impending boredom.

After a few moments of comfortable silence,Charlie suggested,looking expectantly towards the ginger, "Wanna go to the cave?"

With extreme,mind numbing boredom as motivation, it was inevitable that Cameron would say yes. It certainly helped that Charlie was gazing at him with those oh-so convincing doe eyes of his. Charlie Dalton and his stupid,gorgeous eyes. And his stupid,gorgeous smile,which Cameron was abso definitely not thinking about as he got up and grabbed his coat.

The two boys trudged through the woods,bickering lightly when Cameron complained of the cold that Charlie apparently couldnt feel at all,but always with an unusually friendly air between them. Before long they were sat together in the middle of the cave,sharing an apple that Cameron had managed to salvage from somewhere (a feat Dalton was of course impressed by),and trading stories of girls and parties galore. In Cameron's case, the stories of girls were few and the parties were from years long before even middle school,so Charlie did most of the talking.

After a while though,the boys came to discussing their friends,and the luck they all seemed to have in finding each other so easily. Charlie, ever the romantic,made no waste of his extensive vocabulary,tediously lamenting on all the opportunities of love he had missed and the everlasting loneliness he was doomed to,all because his dashing knight in shining armour would never come to find him and-

"Why dont *you* just find somebody?"

Charlie,still sprawled dramatically over a rock ,and mildly offended at the interruption,indignantly questioned "What do you mean?"

"What I said? You dont just have to wait around for somebody to come find you and fall madly in love. Why don't *you* just find somebody?"

He thought for a moment,taken aback by the ginger's harsh words,but eventually decided to humout him for a moment.

"And where exactly do you suggest I find him then, hm?"

Cameron shifted in his seat,not expecting to be taken seriously and certainly not prepared to be giving advice. Especially not *this* kind of advice. Especially not to *charlie*.

"Well,uh," he looked up to see the other boy looking at him expectantly,with that ever-present smirk on his face that, oddly enough,made Cameron feel a little more comfortable.

"Maybe,you could,I don't know, consider that the guy you're looking for has been here the whole time?"

"Wow Cam,Pittsie and Meeks' radio must've really gotten to you. All those love songs have turned you into a big softie." Charlie joked,grinning and nudging Cameron playfully.

Through a soft laugh,Cameron continued, "No I'm serious man,I think you're making this whole love thing way harder for yourself. I mean- and be honest with me, what's actually wrong with the guys at our school?"

"Other than the fact that about three quarters of them are raging heterosexuals?"

Laughing again,Cameron replied "yeah,other than that."

After about zero seconds of careful consideration,he had come to a conclusion, "Well,I guess nothing,but I dont know? Cameron, I don't see how this changes-"

"It *changes* things because clearly you don't anything about half the guys at our school. And you can't write off people you don't even know." At some point, Cameron had gotten up and started pacing around,but with the end of this triumphant speech,he finally sat down,a little closer to the other boy than he had been before.

Charlie looked across at Cameron and was suddenly met with a wave of fondness. Weird,how all it took was to sit and talk for a while before someone you thought you near hated,started to feel like your favorite person in the world. And,was he going completely crazy or Cameron at his most comfortable, without the fear of a teacher lurking nearby,without the stress of constantly trying to prove himself,was he... A little..... attractive??

All at once,Charlie made a decision,partly to try and prove himself wrong,but also because hey,if Richard Cameron was the surprise love of his life,what better time to figure it out than right now?

"So how,sir Richard Cameron,do you propose I get to know all these charming suitors?"

Cameron, completely in the dark about Dalton's recent epiphany,was still stubbornly trying to explain how much easier Charlie's love life could be,if only he would let it.

"Well,maybe by actually talking to them? Y'know,kind of like,What we're doing right now."

"So,what you're saying is,*you* could be my knight in shining armor," he said with a smirk.

"Well,that's not what-"

"No,no it's fine,as long as we're talking about this version of you. Regular Cameron is kind of a buzzkill but Cave Cam is actually a kind of.... And I can't believe I'm saying this but,in here,like this...well. You're actually a little hot."

After this, overwhelmingly romantic confession, Charlie was certain he had completely stuffed it,and sure enough,

"Gee Charlie,thanks. Really makes me wanna ride into the sunset with you." To say Cam's ego had been hit was an understatement,but before he could make a swift exit from the cave and lock himself,alone,in his dorm for the rest of the weekend,of course Dalton kept talking.

"God,I'm sorry,that was, I have no idea why I said that. I thought I was being funny but out loud- god I'm so sorry," while he had initially been mad,seeing Charlie fucking Dalton blush (and because of *him* no less) was rather funny. And sure,a little cute. So Cameron decided to hear him out.

"Can I start over? You're not saying anything so I'm gonna start over. I,uh, I really do think you're hot. Like really hot. And not just right now,all the time,like that time we were at rowing practice and I started pushing you around and we ended up on the floor and I saw like,a single sliver of skin because your sweater had ridden up,and I couldn't stop thinking about it all day,which I thought was a little weird but then-"

"Uh,I think I get it,Charlie." Now Cameron was the one blushing.

"Uh,sorry. What I meant was,that I *do* think you're hot l-"

"As you've said"

"Yeah,yeah,but it's more than that. Like,when I realized we'd basically be spending the whole weekend alone together,I was actually sorta excited for that,even though I knew I'd just be sitting by you while you did homework the whole time,I like,wanted to do that. And tonight,I haven't talked like this with anyone who isn't Neil like,ever. What I mean is,I guess,is that,I think that uh,"

Deciding to lighten the mood,Cameron tried for a little sarcasm, "Wow,Dalton, stuttering? I must be superman or something."

"I'm trying to be romantic here Carrot top," Charlie said with a grin,

"Listen,I don't really know what I'm doing here,but I think it might be kinda nice if we tried having a little romantic weekend of our own. Just to try it. If it totally sucks we can pretend it never happened and the others don't have to know about it and-"

"Charlie."

"Yeah?"

"Relax," Cameron said with yet another laugh ,he didn't think he laughed like this since... Well,he couldn't even remember.

So with a radiant smile on his face,he said,"A romantic weekend of our own sounds amazing. Gotta warn you tho I'm not a great kisser."

"Well, lucky for you I am a great teacher," Charlie replied,with a somehow even bigger smile on his face than Cameron's,

"Why are you laughing,I *am* a great teacher!" Unfortunately for Charlie,his indignance only made Cameron laugh harder.

"I'll believe that when I see it."

"If you shut up and stop laughing,maybe you'll get to." After this was all it took to get the ginger to sober up, the look on his face pushed Charlie to make his final,but (in his opinion) most important decision of the night.It was high time he flirt with Cameron way more often (which was *very* difficult to explain to the other poets,at least the first time).

#yh i did proofread it #yh there probably r still mistakes #i was very nervous so #but yh uh #chameron #dps fic #dps chameron fic #dead poets society chameron #idk how to tag things properly if u couldnt tell from my other posts lol #anyway !! bye

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sugadaily · 3 years

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SUGA has this way of talking passionately with a deadpan look on his face. Full of passion about his life and music. How is your shoulder? SUGA: Good. I think it’ll get even better once I take off this brace. Apparently, it takes several months for a full recovery, but I'm trying to get better as fast as possible. How does it feel like to have resolved a problem that has distressed you for long? SUGA: First of all, I'm glad. The pain is one thing, but when my shoulders got worse, I couldn't even raise my arms. But when I heard that this might recur when getting the surgery at a young age, I waited for the right time and had decided to get it done early next year regardless of the COVID-19 situation. I had planned to get the surgery after the year-end stages, but I got it done this year (2020) because my doctors advised me to start preparing early for next year’s promotions and activities. How does it feel like watching the other members doing promotions? SUGA: I can't say it feels great. I could see the emptiness because we've been together as a group of seven for so long. Not necessarily because I'm not there but because something that should be there is missing? Is that what made you join the promotion as much as possible? You shot lots of video footage in advance and you even appeared in the Mnet “2020 MAMA” through VR. SUGA: Fake SUGA (Laughs). There’s this 3D studio where we shot it. I shot, scanned, and acted there, but couldn't see the actual result at the studio. I thought a sense of displacement was unavoidable, and that was exactly the case. (Laughs) I acted normal because it would have been aired anyway even if I hadn’t had the surgery, but it seems a lot because it’s aired after the surgery. You must feel restricted not being able to go on stage. SUGA: The thing is, it's only been a month after I got surgery, but my absence on stage is so apparent. But my doctors keep telling me that I shouldn't be impatient and in fact, many athletes get a resurgery when they return to the field without proper rehabilitation. So I'm working on trying to care less. For the first two weeks after surgery, I felt so frustrated that I tried out new things. I even watched movies I didn't watch.

What movies did you watch? SUGA: I watched ‘Samjin Company English Class’ as it happened to be on IPTV, and now I have ‘Tenet’ on my list. ‘Parasite’ was the last movie I saw at a cinema. As the social distancing measures became stricter, I haven’t been going outside, except going to the hospital. I even eat at home. I'm also watching a lot of TV nowadays. Watching music shows like ‘Sing Again’, ‘Folk Us’, and ‘Show Me The Money 9’ made me think of what I should do in the upcoming days. Could you elaborate on that? SUGA: A lot of candidates on ‘Sing Again’ are very talented but hadn't had the opportunity, and on ‘Folk Us’, I noticed that many took their own guitars on stage. I started playing the guitar lately and I'm having this urge to broaden my scope of music. And since my interest in the music industry in the U.S. grew, I'm getting prepared, studying English and all. What fueled your interest? SUGA: In some ways it’s the most commercially developed market. You could lose the industry attention in a flash if it's not feasible. So in this system, you would try everything and that would be an efficient way. I want to do music for a long time, and to this end, I always want to learn more about the global music industry because I want to do music that’s loved not only in Korea, but also in the U.S., Japan and Europe. Speaking of which, it seems BE was influenced from music of the past rather than today's trends. SUGA: I especially like impromptu music. I love the songs that were made in one take instead of being recorded several times. In this era of crossover genres, the desire to do better in music is growing inside me. As the genres become more blended, the melody you use must be more important. Does starting to play the guitar affect your composing in any way? SUGA: I always liked using guitar sounds. And I have always liked the Eagles. If you play the guitar, it’s way easier to write songs because you can carry it along wherever you go, pluck on the strings to create melody lines. Keyboards are difficult to carry around. (Laughs) I usually work on my laptop but I had this thought that I definitely needed an instrument. It accelerates my work and improves my understanding of chords. It makes me think you could intuitively make melodies. SUGA: It’s easier to write a song because you can intuitively make a progression and try many different things. During my work on ‘Eight’, IU had recorded and sent me a song from her phone. At the time I couldn’t play the guitar, so we tried to make sure we’re working on the same page when keeping track of each other's progress. That made me feel the need to learn an instrument.

This is actually before you started playing the guitar, but I found ‘Telepathy’ in BE very interesting. The varying melodic progressions between hooks for each member made me wonder if you wrote the melody intuitively for each part. SUGA: I tried a melody for the first time this year (2020), and as I started knowing the fun of music, it opened a lot of new doors for me. So it was kind of easy working on it. I just played a beat and wrote from the beginning until the end. Done. I wrote it in just 30 minutes. The song almost wrote itself. The trends of pop and hip-hop these days cross boundaries between vocals and rap. I like this trend. When I listen to your singing, it feels like you’re hitting the beats rather than singing along the notes. So I thought perhaps you're singing as if you're rapping. SUGA: When you're rapping, you just think of the rhythm, so it’s like simply putting on a melody to a rhythm. To define which comes first, I think melody adds to it while writing the rap. In ‘Life Goes On’, the lyrics ‘Thankfully between you and me, nothing’s changed’ are somewhere in between. It's not rap but it’d be mundane to say it's a mere melody. SUGA: There are obviously songs where the rap needs to be highlighted. For example, in ‘Dis-ease’ or ‘Ugh!’, you have to be good at rap. But in songs that should be easy to listen to, impressive raps are not always the way to go. Sometimes, you want smooth transitions without obstacles. In that sense, the rap flow of ‘Blue & Grey’ was impressive. Rather than a dramatic effect that emphasizes each part, you extended the rap just as much as the slowing beat. SUGA: To be honest, this beat is difficult to rap to. The beginning of the song only has a guitar line, which made it even more difficult. I participated when we wrote lyrics for ‘Blue & Grey’ and I've always wanted to work on a song like this. It was because verse 1 talks about the theme of the song.

It seems you achieved almost everything that you wanted in BE. SUGA: I think it took less than a week to make my part in the album. After having written one or two melodies for ‘Life Goes On’, I wrote a version complete with rap, and liked it that I even worked on a separate arrangement and lyrics. Rather than pondering over the ways that might work, I choose to simply play the music and write. Many creators are unsure even after they’ve produced good work. How do you get the conviction to release your work? SUGA: Many musicians are unsure whether they should release their music or not. It was the same for me, but the thing is, you’ll never release anything if you nitpick everything. For example, if we release 10 songs, we have a chance to unveil them in concerts or fan events. And sometimes, as we listen to the song, we think, ‘Why does this part that had bothered me no longer bother me?’ Some things might feel awkward at some point, but in time, it no longer feels awkward. Even I forget about it. So it's more efficient to fine tune, looking at the big picture, rather than thinking too much about the details. On top of that, during promotions, I don’t have the time to pick tracks that others have sent for 10 hours. It would be a success for all of us if each of us play and write a melody in their own time and collaborate with others on the details. So the way of songwriting has evolved in many aspects. What motivated such evolution? SUGA: I think it evolved naturally. I've changed in personality this year (2020), as well as in terms of my interpretation and attitude toward life to the extent that I almost thought I've been rehearsing. How would it feel like if there were no stage to go to or anyone looking out for me? This thought made me realize the value of these things. In ‘Dis-ease’, you sing ‘I don’t know if it’s the world that's sick’. Was it this lifestyle that changed your thoughts about your work? SUGA: Yes. When I was young, I had embraced the belief that ‘It must be my fault’, but as I got older, I realized that this is not always true. Most of what I had thought was my fault was in fact, not my fault. On the other hand, there are things that I did well and times I had been lucky. ‘I NEED U’ came out during a time when you were still thinking, “It must be me”. After the members put on a stage with ‘I NEED U’ in KBS' ‘Song Festival’, you wrote on Weverse, “It’s the same as five years ago.” How would you compare with back then? (This interview was held on December 19, 2020.) SUGA: We've matured quite a bit. And our stage performances have become more natural. I still like ‘I NEED U’. Just listening to the beat makes me sentimental, and above all, the song came out nicely. So as I was watching this and that when I stumbled across old videos. Watching them made me think that we haven’t changed much.

In what aspect haven't you changed much? SUGA: Before the social distancing measures got stricter, I talked with the photographer for BE, whom I had met four years ago. The photographer was surprised that we hadn’t changed much after all the success, even though he had assumed we’d be very different. I'm amazed personally. I’ve had the chance to meet the members before your debut, but from your way of talking with members or others, it seems you haven't changed. SUGA: I think it's because we don’t give it a big deal about success. For example, it's incredible to be ranked first on the Billboards, but there’s also this sense of, “Okay, and?” Even the Grammys? (Laughs) SUGA: When we got nominated for the Grammy Awards, we thought, ‘Is this real?’ (Laughs) Of course we were delighted, but it didn’t make us think, ‘We're singers nominated for the Grammy.’ If you're nominated, you're nominated, and if you get the award, you get the award. You don't get shaken by that. I know it's a great award and would be so grateful if we receive it, but we know that nothing is possible without the tremendous support of our fans. What’s more important is that the fans are more flattered than us when we receive a great award. So everyone's rejoicing, but it’s like, ‘Let's do what we have to do.’ We've been training ourselves to keep finding our places, so no one remains overexcited. In ‘Fly To My Room’, there are lyrics that say, ‘This room is too small to contain my dream’, and ‘Sometimes this room becomes an emotional trash can, but it embraces me.’ I had this feeling that the room had been such a place and that you were accepting that you have changed. Then the essence must have remained the same. SUGA: It wasn’t easy to accept that we eventually change. But I think it's a good thing that we changed. What we did back then was possible only at that time, and we could change because of the things we had accomplished. Then, what new things are you dreaming about? SUGA: I'm eager to continue doing music. Since all performances were canceled due to COVID-19, I had a chance to talk to so many musicians in Korea. I talked with legendary singers as well as people who are my contemporaries. Talking with them once again made me realize that I love music so much. Because music is my profession, I can’t imagine myself not doing it. I'm grateful that there are still unvisited areas in the world of music.

What kind of music do you think you’ll be engaged in in the future? SUGA: I was greatly motivated when I saw the concert of Na Hoon-a last Chuseok . I wondered how many musicians would actually be able perform and write music for so long like he has. At that moment, it occurred to be that ‘I want to be like him’. He has passion and desire, and most of all, he is a superstar. A few years ago, I took my parents to a Na Hoon-a concert, and when they watched the performance last Chuseok, they said it was way less impressive to see him perform through the TV. (Laughs) That must explain your interest in a broader spectrum of music from instruments to composing and musical genres. Because you want to be doing this for a long time. SUGA: My goal is to continue doing music in any shape or form. In that sense, I have this great respect toward Cho Yong-pil. He takes the best sound there is and reinterprets it into his own. I think that’s something I want to emulate and keep changing and evolving so that I can continue doing music for decades to come. The lyrics ‘Thankfully between you and me nothing’s changed’ must sound more meaningful for the fans because they will be listening to your music for a long time. SUGA: A month and a half in the current times must seem like a lifetime for the fans when we're far apart. I feel the same. But I think that's proof that we worked hard for the past seven years and that the fans have been passionately reaching out to us. I'm striving to get to them as fast as I can, and I'm eager to go on stage. I'm going through this because I want to be better on stage in a better condition, so don't be sad, and please hang in there a little longer.

#yoongi #suga #bangtan #bts #interview #210104

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cryonme · 3 years

Text

Sunflower

word count- 1.4k

tw- alcohol, weed, cursing? idk but probably, mentions of a bad relationship, some tears, Luke been cute. lmk if I missed anything.

mentions- luke, sage, calum, fiona, sage’s ex boyfriend

a/n- hellOOO!!!! SOO, this is the first part in the Luke + Sage series, but the second in the crazy eights. The beginning of Luke and sage!! I love these two so much and I’m so excited for you all to get to know them!! This is loosely based on Sunflower by Rex Orange County. hope u all enjoy, I love feedback!! xo Roxie.

“Sage West!”

Sage took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She’d recognize that voice anywhere.

“Luke Hemmings.” She mustered up the biggest, toothiest smile she could and shot it at him.

“What are you up to tonight, my sunflower?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Sage huffed and spun around on her heel, making a beeline for the register so that there would be a barrier between the two.

“What?” Luke jogged behind her, leaning his elbows on the counter to get closer to the girl he so adored.

“You seem to keep forgetting the minor detail that I have a boyfriend.”

“That you hate.”

“Luke!”

“Look, it’s a party. Bring him.” Luke slipped you a piece of paper with a phone number and address on it.

“Text me if you have any questions.”

Sage took her second deep breath of the morning as she stared at the paper. She loved Luke. More than she should love a regular customer who seems to only come in to flirt with her. The first time she met Luke she knew exactly who he was, obviously. She worked at a record store, she’s got his albums stocked just about everywhere. She pretended that she didn’t know him, and he tried to pretend like he wasn’t falling in love at first sight. He’s come back multiple times a week since then. Only problem was her boyfriend. Her boyfriend who takes advantage of her kindness and soft spokenness and walks all over her.

She grabbed the paper and shoved it in her back pocket, she wasn’t gonna go, but throwing out Luke Hemmings’ phone number just didn’t feel right.

The second Sage stepped foot into the house party she wanted to turn around, run home, get under her covers, and never come out.

Her plan was ruined when Luke made eye contact with her in less than 5 seconds.

“West!” He called out with the brightest smile on his face. Fuck, she loved that smile.

Before she knew it the tall blonde was stopped right in front of her.

“Let’s get you a drink, sunflower!”

“My name is Sage.” She said quietly while involuntarily squeezing Luke’s hand as she took in the party crowd.

He turned to her and smiled, but said nothing. He finally stopped the two of you at a large table in the dining room, filled to the edges with different kinds of alcohol.

“Pick your poison, Sunny!”

“Sage.” The girl reached out her lanky hand and grabbed one of the only unopened beers. “Weed?”

Luke smiled. “Fuck yeah. Let’s find Calum.”

Sage didn’t have to ask who Calum was. Again, the girl worked in a record store.

Luke grabbed her hand once again, she let it slide because if he didn’t she’d probably get lost.

“Who’s house is this anyway?” She asked, but Luke stopped paying attention to her and had his eyes on a crying girl.

“Fi? Hey, what happened?”

“Ask Calum.” She spat and shoved past Luke.

Calum came not too long after, Luke stopped him to let him know he better fix whatever he did.

Once Calum was out of sight Luke turned back to Sage.

“Stupid shits have been in love with each other for years. Took Calum’s joint.” He held up the perfectly rolled paper in his fingers. “Let’s go!” He grabbed her hand once again.

Luke had barely relaxed until him and Sage were comfortably seated on the patio. He pulled out the joint and stuck it between the girl’s lips, holding out his lighter and lighting the end of it.

“No boyfriend?”

“He wasn’t home when I left.” She stated dryly before taking a large inhale of the smoke and handing the joint to Luke.

“Hm.” Luke hummed, not wanting to pry and cause the girl to leave.

“How long you two been together?” He asked, blowing out smoke and handing the joint back to the girl.

“Three years.”

“Damn, Sunny.”

“Why do you call me that?”

“Suits you.” “Hm.” It was Sage’s turn to hum.

“Ya know, sometimes I don’t wanna go home.” Sage said quietly, almost to where Luke didn’t hear her.

“How come?”

“He scares me.”

Luke’s heart shattered. Sage was the sweetest girl he’d ever come across, he hated that stupid relationship she was in. They never saw each other outside of the record shop but when she did mention her boyfriend he’d notice her shoulders drop or her fingers start to fidget.

“So why do you?”

Sage shrugged. “Can’t bring myself to leave.”

“Does he hit you?”

She shook her head rapidly. “No, just yells a lot. Says mean stuff.”

If Luke had blinked at the right moment he would’ve missed her wipe a tear.

“You can’t stay with someone like that, Sunny. That’s not- I mean, being scared to go home? That can’t be love.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“You could stay with me, I don’t wanna see you cry, Sage.” Luke offered in all seriousness. Not a hint of humor in his eyes.

Sage rolled her eyes. “I barely know you, Luke.”

Luke cleared his throat. “I’m Luke Robert Hemmings, I’m from Australia. I’ve got a dog named Petunia, my favorite color is blue, I’m in a stupid band, I have two brothers, and I really like Jack in the box. Anything else?”

Sage laughed, “I can’t, Luke.”

“You don’t have to feel this emptiness.” Luke said.

Sage brought her head up to look at the blond.

“I’m sorry, Luke.” Sage whispered and picked up her purse, making her way to the door. She started to open it then looked back at Luke. “Thanks.”

Luke couldn’t go to the record store, he was too embarrassed.

Of course she’s not gonna stay with you, you dick.

“I’m worried about her, honestly.” Luke huffed at breakfast. “Her boyfriend scares her, I mean, it can’t be good.”

“She has your number. I’m sure she’ll call if things get bad.” Calum said, reaching over to grab a strawberry off of Fiona’s plate.

“She had a point, you know. She doesn’t know you.”

“I’m a celebrity. How much shit could I possibly have to hide?”

Fiona shrugged like he had a point.

“My advice? Give it time. Be her friend, help her through it, be the shoulder to cry on right now. From what you’ve told me I can tell she likes you too, but give her time. Relationships like that are scary, can’t really just up and leave.” Fiona said.

Luke nodded. He would wait forever if he had to.

About two weeks after the party and Luke had made no contact with Sage. Fiona said she would most likely come to him but he was sick of waiting. He didn’t have a phone number and he didn’t want to upset her while she was at work. Not knowing if he was gonna be able to see her again was killing him.

Luke had just finished up writing a couple verses for a new song when there was a timid knock at the door, he probably wouldn’t have heard it if it wasn’t for Petunia nearly losing her mind.

“Calm down!” He whisper-yelled at the dog as he made his way to the door. Once he swung it open he was met with a very shaky and crying Sage.

“Sage? Come in, Sunny, come in.”

The girl took in an uneven breath and rushed through the door as if someone was chasing her and Luke hurriedly closed the door and locked it before turning to her.

“I didn’t know where else to go.” She whimpered and Luke didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around her.

“We need to get you some friends, Sunny.” He said sarcastically and Sage let out a laugh.

“I guess so.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Out of the picture.”

“Good. Asshole.” Luke huffed and separated himself from her, arms still around her waist.

“Staying here?”

She nodded.

“Tea?

Another nod.

Luke nodded and brought her to the kitchen, making her a cup of tea before showing her to the guest bedroom next to his.

He showed her the bathroom, the clean towels, the extra blankets, and the laundry room.

“Can I come with you in the morning to pick up your stuff?” He asked her once she had settled herself on the bed in her pajamas.

“Please.”

Luke nodded. “Hey, how did you find my apartment?”

Sage could feel her cheeks heat up. “I may have googled your address?”

The boy laughed, “Couldn’t give me a call?”

“Asshole ripped up the paper you gave me. Said I was cheating.”

Luke’s heart sank. He didn’t respond, just walked to her and bent down, pressing a soft kiss to her head.

“I promise I’m the one for you.”

#luke hemmings imagine #luke hemmings one shot #luke hemmings fanfic #luke hemmings #5sos imagine #5sos fanfiction #5sos fic #5sos fanfic #luke hemmings fluff #luke hemmings blurb #5sos blurbs #5sos #5 seconds of summer #ashton irwin #calum hood #michael clifford

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nomanwalksalone · 3 years

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TAKE MY IVY, PLEASE

by Réginald-Jérôme de Mans

A few years before my excellent state graduate school destroyed the promise of accessible public education and raised tuition to the same levels as the privates, my housemate, complaining that he wanted an experience that I had already had, transferred to Yale. Said experience, one I had never put a name to, was “the Ivy League experience.” I never thought that my undergraduate years at Dirnelli U (known to non-iGents as Brown) amounted to any sort of emblematic experience of the eight universities that compose the Ivies, nor that the sort of experience that expression connotes exists today outside of the imaginations of a few who have closed their eyes to the sartorial realities of college, whether on the campus of an Ivy League or elsewhere.

Certainly by the time I wandered my college town’s streets the idea of an Ivy look that was not the national college outfit of jeans, sweats or even pajamas was ludicrous, even if those wanderings frequently took me past Brown’s last two, soon-to-be-extinct, soon-to-be-unmourned, Ivy outfitters. Despite one of them adding a large wood carving of the Polo logo to its sign, they remained unrelatable enclaves surrounded by the diners with insane hours (midnight to four AM) and smoke shops with Sobranie Black Russians which I remember more sentimentally.

They weren’t welcoming, either, if I ever braved to venture past the window displays with Royall Lyme and defiantly middle-aged Barry Bricken and Tricots Saint-Raphael mufti. Undergraduates were not buying, and that shop, Hillhouse Ltd, closed my senior year. Times had changed to the point that I remember the opening of a Gap on Thayer Street drawing some criticism in the press for that shop’s expected priciness.

Richard Press evokes Hillhouse Ltd.’s predecessor, Langrock, and the other classic outfitters of the Ivy League in his sparkling memoir Threading the Needle, a collection of reminiscences from his posts on the website of J. Press, the ur-classic clothier founded by his grandfather. Even if J. Press is now owned by its Far Eastern licensee Onward Kashiyama, Richard Press remains the face of the firm, and, for all intents and purposes, its breezy, never windy, voice.

Press is ebullient to the point of becoming almost ethereal, a far cry from my memories of the weary heaviness of my local Ivy shops’ atmospheres, their prosaic furnishings and quite mundane merchandise… But then again, my first recollection of Ivy style, recognized in retrospect like a recovered memory, was of my high school English teacher’s tweed jacket, which he opened to lend me a pen that smelt as memorably bad as almost anything I’ve smelt since then, including tanneries and certain institutional wards, suffused as it was not with the Hebridean peat fires that Richard Press insists you could smell in the old Harris Tweeds his father sold, but with decades of spilt coffee and sweat-drenched wool that must have never seen a dry clean, so that his shapeless, indiscriminately patterned tweed jacket bore the pedigree of its soiling. My first experience, then, was of miasma, not Press’s ether.

No wonder Richard Press makes a virtue out of the emptiness of the actual Ivy stores, filling them with ethos and intangible evocations: a sense not just of community but of belonging. Belonging to the New Haven restaurants that only sat university students and staff, not townsfolk; belonging to the boisterous undergraduates who knew that Press’s frequently invoked “Boola boola” is a Yale fight song; belonging to a time when immigrant tailor Jacobi Press and his staff travelled the trails of the carriage trade and visited boarding schools to sell rich adolescents custom suits, the better to lock them in for college and life. Belonging to dangerous road trips between Dartmouth and its sister college in the days before co-education (or good highways) to flirt, or at least hope to loan out a J. Press Shetland wool sweater; belonging to Frank Sinatra’s party one whirlwind evening when the Chairman of the Board sat most of the J. Press New York staff at his table in all the chic watering holes; belonging to the small group of people who have seen Dean Acheson in his underwear… Always, however, the thrill of this inclusion is in its exclusion of others: through codes of language, through the financial means required to pay for custom tailoring (for children who would grow out of it!); through social class. It is a privilege to read Richard Press’ writing, but it would be unwise to forget the privilege his rosy reminiscences required.

Comfort and ease in tailored clothing, then as now, only came at great expense. It does not surprise me that those physical Ivy shops of Providence, untouched by J. Press’s halo, withered and died. Threading the Needle includes Richard Press’s jabs at casualization. He bemoans it as a great swindle on us, depriving us of knowing what to wear, and requiring us to buy cheaper, junkier clothes at much higher margins than what honest traditional merchants like J. Press were and are selling us. But the reason Ivy is dead is because the class that wore this syncretistic American clothing, a dowdy bastardization of Britishness with Puritan formlessness thrown in, reflexively because it was what was done, and what was sold where one shopped, was quite happy to wear lighter, easier, less confining clothing as soon as they could shed the weight of Ivy, the dress code expectations that changed so radically from the 1960s onward, and quite happy to spend less on cheaper casual clothing than on expensive tailored jackets and ties whose silk had to be madder-dyed in England. You may see a few young people wearing a Harris Tweed jacket or seersucker sportcoat on a northeastern college campus, but they are all doing so with intentionality, the intention to recreate something that no longer naturally exists, populating an invented ecosystem with overthought clothing to which they associate a politics that was not at all certain to be associated with it in the days when so-called Ivy clothing was the norm on Ivy campuses.

Press’s essays even give us, in pieces, the narrative of what actually happened to Ivy Style. Once upon a time it was the norm on rarefied campuses of young gentlemen who might continue using the same tailor who had bench-made their clothes in high school and college once they graduated to Wall Street, like a Fitzgerald protagonist. The aftermath of World War II democratized (to a point) college enrollment through the GI Bill, leading many, many more people, of theretofore-unrepresented social classes, to attend college and adopt a similar wardrobe. (Another prep school teacher once informed us that Columbia University had simply called up his father after the war and asked him to attend, allowing him to climb the social ladder.) Innovations in production allowed factory manufacture of Ivy-style ready-to-wear garments as well, so that the increased number of people who wanted to wear Ivy could also afford to wear the Ivy look without having to pay the prices of artisanal one-off work. Ivy became widespread: Press uses the word “heyday” in the titles of several of his essays from this golden age when Ivy was the look. And every fashionable look has its end. Not only did fashions change, but social changes in the 1960s meant that homogenous dressing on campuses was at an end, particularly dressing like one supposed a white-collar grownup would in coat and tie. The 1970s’ upheaval in prep school dress codes broke the back of coat and tie for kids, dealing another blow to Ivy. The Ivy partisans Press evokes who wore it during those decades, doughty men, men of intelligence like Dick Cavett, of integrity like John Chancellor, were middle-aged men who had started wearing the same style of clothes decades earlier as students. (Even Frank Sinatra, who scooped Richard up to his bosom, only lasted nine months as a customer in the late 1960s before sending an emissary to tell Richard Frank no longer wanted to experiment with the Ivy look.) Ivy as a style worn by current Ivy Leaguers, or by American college students pretty much anywhere, no longer existed.

Decades later I, too, wear tweed jackets, but keep them clean (unlike the original Ivy population), and am not a parafascist reactionary (unlike some of the most visible latter-day Ivy practitioners). Savile Row tailors had to sacralize the concept of tweed for me, washing away all its associations of brown, smelly, shapeless and hegemonic, so that my garments in it, strange alpaca Shetland weaves or unthinkable lavenders, are as far from Ivy as possible. Despite the awful Brown Daily Herald (for which I coined the motto “all the print that fits is news”) carrying a weekly News of the Ivies section, none of us felt any ineffable Ivy-ness. The closest I came to such a feeling may have been reading a cheesy story by Providence’s own H.P. Lovecraft, whose action suddenly shifted to the very room I was sitting in… or perhaps hearing a townie couple at a Spring Weekend concert by the very non-Ivy Violent Femmes mutter about how all the kids in the audience had good teeth.

I do not mourn Ivy, as I do not mourn the shops that died trying to sell it to the college populations that have moved on. I hope my housemate found what he was looking for in New Haven (I did successfully, and evilly, bullshit him into buying two Brigg umbrellas for his move there). Had I been him, no doubt I would have succumbed to some aspect of Richard Press’s winning fantasies, replaying the opening paragraphs of Franny and Zooey in my mind, wool-lined Burberry and all, in search of a possessions-linked romance that reality has no place for in this day and age, if it ever had.

#rjman #reginaldjeromedemans

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papipopsicle · 4 years

Text

HANDMADE HEAVEN PART ONE

Pairing: Steve Harrington X Hargrove!Reader

Summary: In which the new Queen of Hawkins High finds herself falling for the fallen king.

Song: Easier by 5 Seconds of Summer

Warnings: swearing, asshole parental figures

Words: 1.7K

MASTERLIST

feedback is always appreciated

The house itself was fine, not pretty and polished like the one she grew up in, but at the very least she was grateful not to be sleeping in another motel bed filled with broken springs and anonymous stains. Susan greeted her like a good little home maker, tightly waved hair bouncing against her shoulders as she walked down the steps of the porch.

"How was it, sweetie?" The ginger woman waited with pursed lips while her step daughter stood from the vehicle. She really hated that car, it stood out like a sore thumb next to her husband's silver SUV, especially when her brothers parked alongside the two.

"Not the worst." Y/N shrugged. She missed the silent solace already, "Has Max decided which room she wants?"

Susan nodded, leading the blonde into their new home, "She's at the back opposite your father and I. William hasn't arrived yet so you have the choice of the one next to hers or ours."

Without hesitation she chose the one next to Max's. Her father helped unload her heavier furniture from the U-Haul currently fixed to the back of her red muscle car. The room was in the shape on an 'L', mirroring her step sister's. Her small double bed only just managed to fit in the crook, creating a cosy space to drift away in.

Hours of rearranging the room passed before a navy blue Camaro could be heard pulling up onto the curb and a muggy sunset made itself present in her bedroom window. Emptying out her socks into the small drawer of her dresser, Y/N dropped the empty black bin liner behind her and rushed to greet her brother.

"Billy!" She squealed, attacking him with a hug. The two would roughhouse and swear at each other like drunken sailors, but their love for each other would always be the first thing anyone noticed about the twins. He picked her up with ease and spun her around, quickly dropping her to the floor again.

Y/N's twin would sometimes forget the rude masculine persona he put on and actually behaved like himself, but it never lasted long with their father close by.

"See that hunk of crap didn't kill you on the way here then?" Billy joked as they both carried a bed frame into his new room. His distaste for the nineteen-sixty-eight Mustang Cobra was evident whenever it came up in conversation, only due to it being left to her rather than him in their mother's will.

"Not just yet." His sister hummed and the two let out a huff as they dropped the mattress onto the wooden frame. They talked about the bullshit of finishing their senior year at a completely different school and what that we're going to dress up as for Halloween. It was their favourite holiday and this year she planned on being Tom Cruise from Risky Business. Nobody would understand it but it was better than Billy's 'slutty teen boy' costume he wore most days anyway.

"Y/N/N honey, could you come into the lounge!" Susan's sugary tone rang through the house. The twins shared a look that always subconsciously found their faces when she attempted to play doting step mother.

Fucking doormat of a woman.

"Coming." The blonde shut her brothers door on the way out and walking down the hallway into the small living area. By now any remnants of the sun had long hidden away from Hawkins and only warm ceiling lights lit up her face.

Susan appeared from the kitchen door with a tray full of oatmeal cookies, grin etched into her features like puppet strings pulling at her cheeks, "Try one, would you?" She gleamed, pushing the metal tray out for emphasis, "I'd ask your father but he'd just say they were nice, never wants to upset me. He's too good."

Not wanting to answer, Y/N took a small crumbly cookie and bit into it, eyes bugging out at the statement only able to nod in response.

The step mother watched in anticipation, hair bouncing at her shoulders as usual, "So, gorgeous? Be honest with me, how are they?"

"Really good," She didn't like the woman, but couldn't deny her ability to copy a recipe, "I think these may even top the peanut butter ones."

Susan's sterile smile managed to stretch further and Y/N was scared her lips may crack and bleed from the force, "Perfect! We're handing them out to our new neighbours tomorrow. Which reminds me, I need you to get some new trainers for Maxine tomorrow, nothing expensive though, they're just for gym class. She's a four now.

The blonde resisted the urge to roll her eyes, and instead nodded while an idea popped into her head, "I drove past a giant superstore on my way here, I'm sure they're still open I can just go now."

"Are you sure, honey?" Susan sounded concerned, but Neil didn't share the same feelings, "Curfew is eleven until you start school on Monday, same rules apply here."

"I know, Dad." She nodded curtly and turned on her heel, not wasting a moment grabbing her brothers old khaki bomber jacket and her car keys. The front door shut just as quickly as it opened, leaving the small U Haul sitting on the driveway next to Billy's Camaro.

It had been her brother's favourite jacket since he was sixteen, but he'd gained so much muscle his arms couldn't slip into it anymore. Although Y/N was tall for the average girl, the material still managed to shroud her frame.

Y/N felt amazed after managing to get to the store fairly easily, she picked up some plain black pumps and paid for them with cash, pocketing the receipt to make sure Neil would reimburse her. That took less than fifteen minutes. There were still over two hours until she needed to be back at the house and she needed to make the most of any freedom from her father.

She was her mother's daughter and the opposite of Susan Mayfield-Hargrove; if someone showed themselves as a thorn and not the rose they seemed to be, they were a thorn. She could accept it and move on, which is difficult when they own the house she calls home. Her step mother was a fixer, finding wilted petals and taping them up against the thorn to appear more sightly. If Neil was the thorn, Y/N the rose, then Susan was a daisy in a field where she didn’t belong.

The younger Hargrove twin decided to explore her new home, driving around cul-de-sacs and roads which mirrored one another. After a while of aimless driving, Y/N parked up at the side of a quiet road, seeming to back onto a rich neighbourhood. She locked the muscle car, Ellie, and began walking on the edge of the road.

"Stay put, El." She whispered to herself, echoing her mother's voice. Meredith Hargrove always swore her car changed parking spaces whenever they went somewhere together.

Y/N couldn't imagine having so much space, no family was big enough to make use of it all. Her feet brought her into the small forest area, passing a few more eccentric gardens before finding one which intrigued her. The lights were all off, moonlight bouncing off the unmoving water in the centre of the garden.

Swimming had always been something the Hargrove girl not only loved but turned to in uncertainty. Billy would surf alongside her a long time ago, but he hadn't for years now. Her eyes danced around each room, unable to see any kind of life within the mansion. Against Y/N’s better judgement, she left the tall trees and let her toes edge onto someone's private property.

It seems a shame not to.

Fallen leaves stopped crunching under her brown boots as they found concrete slabs. The family must have employed a cleaner and gardener as nothing seemed out of place or dirty. The water was clear and not a single leaf or bug lay on its surface. Crouching down, her fingers drifted along the water, creating a small ripple, confirming her suspicions of how cold it would be.

She didn't care, stripping down into her underwear in the cool autumnal winds, anyone would've thought she was a crazy person. Y/N ignored the small ladder next to her and gracefully dived into the pool, swimming down to the bottom until she needed to come back up for air. The blonde lay on her back, staring up at the stars wondering what her friends were doing on the other side of America. Probably at Sadie's getting high.

Y/N wasn't sure how much time had passed, her fingertips were now wrinkled but it didn't bother her. She was in her element, so much so she didn't register when the kitchen light turned on and alerted the homeowner of someone in their pool.

Steve's body was overcome with terror as he did a double, triple take out of the kitchen window at the figure in his garden. He only wanted some leftover lasagne. Grabbing his nail punctured bat, the home alone teenager unlocked the back door, and against his own better judgement, creeped towards the intruder.

As he came closer, he was thankful to find a girl than a demogorgan, a girl he certainly didn't recognise. Her blonde hair lay on top of the water like a halo as she floated in her own world.

"Hello?" He questioned, bat still firmly in hand, "Why the fuck are you naked in my pool?"

Y/N left her mini trance, flailing in the water as her eyes found a teenage boy wielding an odd weapon, only a scream leaving her lips in response.

part two?

want to be tagged? just send in an ask!

#fanfic #fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #billy hargrove #hargrove x Harrington #Steve Harrington #Steve x reader #Steve imagine #Steve Harrington imagine #fluff #imagine #stranger things fluff #stranger things fanfic #stranger things imagine

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drreidfics · 3 years

Text

Dr. Reid and the Broken Girl pt1.

DR. REID AND THE BROKEN GIRL (Working Title)

Characters : SpencerReid x FemReader

Warnings : Abuse, Hints of Self Harm.

CAUTION // TW // THIS BOOK DEALS WITH MATURE CONTENT SUCH AS PROFESSOR AND STUDENT RELATIONSHIP, SEXUAL ASSULT, SELF HARM, MENTAL ILLNESS AND SUBSTANCE ABUSE. IT ALSO INCLUDES A LOT OF RATED-R MATERIAL. IF THIS IS TRIGGERING OR MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE THEN PLEASE DON’T READ.

Here I am again, on the floor, begging him to stop. There he is again, laughing at my pleas and forcing himself inside of me. Almost every night he climbs into my bed, then in the morning, he pretends everything is normal. When anyone is around, he acts charming. He is able to trick everyone into thinking everything is fine. Well, it's not.

My phone buzzed to life at the side of me. The alarm was going off but I had been up for hours, staring at the flecks of dust dancing around the air. The sunlight streamed in through my thin, white drapes. It was beautiful out. It was the middle of May and bound to be hot out in Arizona. I could feel the warmth on my skin already. I needed to shower and get all this sticky sweat off my skin. It wasn't even mine. I felt disgusting. His touch lingered everywhere on me. The bruises he gave me stained my skin more than the self inflicted cuts.

'Morning Ms. y/l/n. Last night was lovely. See you at lunch?'. It was a text from Mr Reid. He was my psychology professor. Older than me, at thirty, he had long dark hair and deep brown eyes. His hair curled slightly at the end. He was tall and slim. Smart and nerdy, having two degrees and a doctorate, he left his job at the FBI for something less mentally draining. He had worked there since he was twenty-two. I was twenty-one making our age gap quite small. Look at me, trying to convince myself that it even mattered. He was a lovely guy. Friendly, and handsome. He wouldn't fall in love with a student, and if he did, that student would never be me. He was too smart for that.

"Morning Dr. Reid. Thank-you for taking me. It was a fun eve! Yes, see you at lunch. We can have a chat about the stuff we saw yesterday =)". I read the message over and over again before hitting send. I was nervous as I usually always say stupid things. My low self esteem affected me very much. I was twenty-one, already with one degree and going back to do another. I was still living at Sharon's and I haven't had a boyfriend. He texted me back instantly.

"Can't wait! Need a lift to school? =)" I smiled down at my battered iPhone 6. I couldn't afford a brand new phone. I was lucky in that I only had to work a few hours a week at the local book store and that it was something I enjoyed doing. Sharon was good to me. She helped me pay for and make my way through college. I don't know what or where I would be without her. On the other hand, she brought the human spawn of the devil into my life.

"No thnx, Luna is picking me up =)" I sent but then instantly regretted it. I love my best friend but I would have preferred a ride with Dr. Reid. Our conversations were always interesting and insightful. We could talk about a wide range of subjects for hours and it would only feel like minutes passed.

"Ok, see u soon Y/N"

I smiled, almost forgetting my problems before catching glimpse of myself in the mirror. My fragile, battered body stared back. I sighed. He could never find a girl like me attractive. Not that it mattered anyway. Silly little girl crush.

After debating whether it was best to just find the nearest bridge in town and throw my self off or get ready for school (I am very mentally unwell), I decided on the latter. Luna had already texted me to inform me that she was about to set off. Knowing Luna, which I have had the pleasure of knowing for fifteen years (no sarcasm in there), ten minutes would be ten years.

I staggered down the dreaded stairs, almost losing my footing a few times, feeling light headed. I entered the brightly lit kitchen. It was so bright that I could feel an aching behind my eyes. The decor was simplistic, all white with gold features. Classic business mom who is never home asthetic going on.

Sharon sat at the island, face absorbed in her laptop. She was in her late forties with short, mousey hair. I believe she would be referred to as a 'Karen'. She looked nothing like Dom. She was short, like me, and fairly slim. He was tall and muscular with broad shoulders. Quarterback star player with the strength to show for it. He could snap us both in half. Dominic is Sharon's only child. Yes, that is correct. She is not my mum. I lost her.

Sharon looked up at me, flashing me a warm smile, still bashing the keys to her MacBook. She took a sip of her black coffee, nibbling on some cold toast. "You look like shit" she stated; matter of factly, her face blank. '"Thanks?'" I answered with a raised eyebrow. I walked over to the coffee machine and put in a pod, sticking my travel cup underneath. 77Kcals of goodness. All the fuel I will need this morning. "Sweetheart, don't act like that. You know I'm just saying. You need to sleep more" '"I know" I sighed. It was true... "But that makes two of us" I retorted cheekily with a grin. "Oh sweetheart, don't I know it" she raised her cup as if toasting the comment before gulping the last bit of coffee.

Sharon was my guardian, though not anymore as I was an adult and of drinking age. She still cared for me though as if I were her own. My mom died when I was seven and my dad had a breakdown. He couldn't cope. One day I came home from school and he was gone. He didn't say a word to anyone. He packed up his stuff and left me. I hated him for a while. The anger within me burned to my core. After a while I felt sympathy. He didn't get the help that he needed. If he did then we both wouldn't be in this mess. We'd be happy - together. I doubt he would know how to contact me now.

Aunt Sharon took me in. She wasn't really my aunt, she was my mom's best friend. She was the only connection to my mother that I had left besides her wedding ring. She loved her dearly and I believe she loves me dearly too. It's not her fault she can't protect me. She works herself to death trying to help me live my dreams. Dom wasn't the child that she had always wanted. He is doing nothing with his life. That is something I will alway's respect of her, single mom raising her child and somebody else's.

I loved her, though she did have the tendency to dish out tough love which often was way - way too harsh. And she was always away leaving me with him. I knew that if I'd only just tell her what he was capable of... What he would do to me when she left... She'd have murdered him herself with her bare hands. But it would kill her. I couldn't do that to her. He was the only thing she had who was blood. Me, I had no-one.

"shit! Is that the time? I'm going to be late. I gotta go, honey. Say bye to Dom for me." she pleaded as she stuffed the last slice of toast in her mouth and gathered her briefcase and her keys. " ...And make sure you have something to eat. You're wasting away!" "Have a good day at work Shaz" I shouted after her. I doubt that she heard me. She was out the door in seconds, jangling her keys and fighting between speaking with me and the ringtone on her work mobile. I heard her professional, scripted 'Hello, Sharon Cormack speaking' as the door slammed behind her.

I made my way through the spotless kitchen Gina, Sharon's housekeeper, always did a good job. I grabbed a bottle of water out of the integrated refrigerator. I also grabbed my iced latte from the coffee machine. It was almost half eight. My first classes start at nine and Luna still wasn't anywhere in sight. I scrambled through my purse for my phone, ready to give her a piece of my mind. That girl would be late to her own funeral.

"You're up early" a voice from behind me sneered. It took all my might to not to curl up in a ball, trembling.

"I... I have school"

No reply. I felt him creeping up behind me, felt his breath against my neck.

"I can think of something much better to do with the day baby" he whispered as he planted acid kisses on my neck. It burned. I squeezed my eyes shut, putting my hands up defensively. He pushed my back into the counter. A sharp pain ran though me.

"Please stop. I have to go" I whispered as his hand snaked its way up my neck, fist knotting tightly in my hair.

'"Why do you think a whore like you has the right to tell me what to do, hm?"

'- Hello? Katy?' Luna's smooth voice called out in sing song.

Oh, thank god for her and her timing. He released me from his grasp and increased the distance between us. His eyes were clouded. I could tell he was pissed. I brushed passed him, running towards Luna, who was standing by the open door. I ran straight into her arms hugging her tightly.

"I thought you'd never show." I whispered. She rested her chin on my shoulder, stroking my hair. I could tell that she was staring daggers at Dom and I could tell he didn't care. Like I said, the same routine. Every morning.

By the time lunch rolled around I had had enough. had gotten into a lot of trouble with Ms. Hallows over an overdue assignment and I had spilt water all down the front of my jeans. It looked like I had pissed myself. My saving grace is that they were dark jeans and so it wasn't too noticable. That didn't stop Georgie from laughing and calling me pissy pants for half the day.

Georgie was the kind of girl that you would avoid in high school. Everybody wanted to be her but everyone hated her so bad. She had golden brunette locks, a slim face and a petite nose. Her friends Nova and Ari were just as bad. Everyone used to tell you that when you left high school things would be different. I am sorry to inform you that they don't. Bullies stay bullies forever.

I forced my way through the groups of students, crowded together in the corridors. The last thing I wanted was to be late for my chat with Mr. Reid

"Y/N" I heard Luna calling after me. I could tell that she was chasing me through the crowd of students. "Y/N. Look, Y/N stop." I rolled my eyes.

"What?" I snapped. I could see the hurt in her eyes. She leaned on the wall, panting. I sighed. "I'm sorry. What's wrong?" I asked. I felt bad for snapping at her. All she wanted was answers, like anyone would have after walking in on what she did. But I don't give answers. I shut down. I don't tell anyone anything. She tried talking once we got in the car. I ignored her and I ran once we'd arrived at school. She didn't even need to speak. I could just tell what she wanted to talk about from the look on her face. I sighed again.

"Luna, I can't talk about this right now." I saw the hurt in her eyes. If I kept pushing her away then eventually she wouldn't fight to stay. 'Good', a small voice whispered in my head. Maybe that would be for the best. She deserves better. Everyone does. I could just end my life today and nobody would care. I used to fight hard against the suicidal ideations that entered my mind but now I didn't see the point.

"I have my meeting and I can't be late. Taco Bell after classes?" I asked. To my relief, she smiled and nodded, that beautiful smile that I loved so much. She was so easy to please. I smiled and walked away towards room 1980. Dr. Reid's office.

"I love you!" she shouted after me smiling.

"I love you more!"

"Lesbians" Georgie mocked. She was stood near the bathrooms. I rolled my eyes.

"Grow up"

Luna was gay but we weren't together. We had been intimate a few times but nothing had come of it. But so what if it had? We both agreed it felt weird as we had known each other as friends for so long. We didn't want to ruin anything. Luna and I had been friends ever since she opened up my juice box for me in kindergarten and then hit the girl who had stolen my straw. We had been inseparable ever since. She's been with me through thick and thin. I'd hate to think where I'd have been if she hadn't been there when my mom had died. We are and will alway's be the best of friends. In another life I could see us growing old together, adopting puppies and children but sometimes, it doesn't work out. And if you love someone, you have to let them go.

I opened the door to 1980 and as soon as I did my heart fluttered in my chest. There he was, as beautiful as ever. He looked up from the book he was reading, glasses perched on his nose and smiled, he seemed glad to see me.

"Sweetie!" he said, a smile spreading across his gorgeous lips. He's the only person who calls me that.

"Dr. Reid" I smiled back. My smile was huge and I probably looked so dorky but I don't care. My day just got brighter. I pulled up a chair next to him and kicked my feet up onto his lap. He rested his hand on my calf.

"So what did you think to the book?"

#drreid #spencer x reader #spencerreid #spencer reid #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid story #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fic #mature #fic #reader x spencer reid #wattpad #wattpad fanfic #teacher x student #college professor smut #professor x student #professor x reader #teacher x reader

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fyeah-bangtan7 · 3 years

Text

SUGA “I'm grateful that there are still unvisited areas in the world of music”

SUGA has this way of talking passionately with a deadpan look on his face. Full of passion about his life and music.

How does it feel like watching the other members doing promotions? SUGA: I can't say it feels great. I could see the emptiness because we've been together as a group of seven for so long. Not necessarily because I'm not there but because something that should be there is missing? Is that what made you join the promotion as much as possible? You shot lots of video footage in advance and you even appeared in the Mnet “2020 MAMA” through VR. SUGA: Fake SUGA (Laughs). There’s this 3D studio where we shot it. I shot, scanned, and acted there, but couldn't see the actual result at the studio. I thought a sense of displacement was unavoidable, and that was exactly the case. (Laughs) I acted normal because it would have been aired anyway even if I hadn’t had the surgery, but it seems a lot because it’s aired after the surgery.

#bangtan #suga #m:weverse magazine #o:interview #210104

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everyhowlmarksthedead · 4 years

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❛ PLEGARIAS ❜

Songfic with ‘Plegarias’ by Nicki Nicole.

English lyrics.

with Neron ‘Creeper’ Vargas.

Request: Hey love!😻 You're Creeper request inspire me! So can u write something where Creeper & Reader breaks up when Creeper was transfered to Santo Padre. And when Santo Padre go to Stockton years later, Creeper discovers that even when they breaks up, Reader continue to help the club. And then, they go back together? Just fluff,fluff,fluff,love and again fluff 😍😍😍

BY ANON

Warnings: slight mention of depression, angst and fluff.

Word count: About 1.8k

Aurora says: thanks to my lovely beta reader @chibsytelford for her opinion and for helping me! ✨

Gif credits: @angels-reyes

Masterlist.

Te encontré plasmado, culpable, deteriorado. Nunca tan amable.

Your eyes traveled from the leather kutte over the bed, to your boyfriend. He was sitting at the edge of the bed, with his head bowed forward and both hands intertwined on his nape. The patches that used to decorate it, now were cutted off, and the new ones were perfectly sewn. You knew exactly what that meant. He just shitted on six years of relationship. You were fourteen when you met him, skipping out of highschool because you were having a bad day and he just made it better, without knowing you. You didn't say anything when you noticed the suitcase behind him, raising his dark and reddened eyes towards you.

Llorando en las iglesias, rogándole a Dios que tenga paciencia, que no se olvide de vos.

He didn't ask you to come with him, because you had a life in Stockton. Your family, your friends, your work, your college. He knew pretty well that you would follow him to the end of times, but he couldn't ask you to fall into hell, just because of him. So Creeper left you there with a pain squeezing your heart that you keep feeling today.

¿Quién mató tu inocencia hoy? Dime dónde está el asesino del cuento.

The first months without knowing anything about him, all that you did was pray. Pray for him like you had never done before. Oscar wasn't allowed to tell you anything else more that he was alive, and that he was close to the Mexicali border. They knew you were suffering, but Creeper asked them to let you continue with your life. But how you could, if he was your life?

Yo voy buscando el final. La historia de hoy, yo te la cuento.

You had to deal with, what doctors called, ‘depression’. But the truth was that every time you closed your eyes, you used to find him smiling at you, telling you how much he loved you. You decided to not sleep, or avoid it as much time possible, so you used to spend the day in bed. Tired, sad, unhappy, feeling miserable.

Until you started to fight, when you understood that he wasn't coming back. You understood why he did what he did, that he just wanted the best for you. And have a life with a wannabe gangster, it wasn't. With Mayans in Stockton, Creeper only took care of simple business, but his new ‘job’ was high-level, dangerous and risky. He couldn't ask you to stay by his side. His love was stronger than drowning you into that shit.

Si voy, calor infernal. Desencuentro fatal. Que ya no te veo…

But you used to tell him: ‘I prefer to die for love, than to die for hate’.

You stopped dreaming with him, even if you kept your promise of praying every night for his soul. Praying to God to not forget him.

Si estás, empieza a gritar. Comienzo a pensar, que ya no te siento.

The pain was disappearing one bite at a time, until you decided to only keep the good things, the good memories of your history. Oscar began to see that you continued coming to the clubhouse, asking less for Creeper, but asking more for the crew. You practically grew up with them, and who was your first love wasn't going to take that away from you too. So the president let you help them with basic stuff; working at the parties, doing the groceries, cooking for them… They considered you like their mom, even if you were much younger than them. You were part of their family, another Mayan morr.

Ay, ay, me duele muy dentro del corazón.

But the pain that you thought you had conquered, was only hidden. And you know that by finding him with his brothers, drinking some beers in the front yard of your club. It's been five years since he left you and, even if you're a woman and not a child anymore, you understand that you are still in love with him, like eleven years ago when you met. Parking your car inside the garage, you step out from it in complete silence, with a box of Jose Cuervo between your arms. Oscar walks towards you, hoping that he has the chance to explain what's going on, but you just smile at him to let him know that everything is okay. You can deal with it.

“They will stay for a couple hours”. He said anyway.

“They're Mayans, I ge—”.

“You are too. Never forget it”.

Nodding in silence, you follow him into the inside, passing them away without saying a single word, until being greeted by your charter with hugs and kisses.

A Dios le rezo, y caigo en los tiempos. Ya no me importa perderme muy dentro.

“Hey, baby girl, Oscar is calling you to the table”.

Medina makes you frown confused. It's the first time in your life that you enter in that Templo while Mayans are reunited. Unless you're bringing them beers. Opening the glass door, you step in. Silence, just a bunch of dark eyes over you, walking with firm steps to the president of your charter. Moving the empty chair by his right side, he urges you to sit down. And you do, with your gaze fixed on his.

“You told me once that you would like to prospect”.

“I did”. You say, curling a leg against your chest, and placing your arm about it.

“In Santo Padre need a new prospect”.

Your orbs travel to the other president, Bishop Losa. Rey de los Mayas. By the look on his face, you know that they're hiding something from your charter, from Oscar. Twisting your neck, you try to figure it out, until he clears his throat because you're making him feel uncomfortable.

“Could you live without me?” Slowly, so slowly, you turn your face to El Oso.

“It's just eight hours away from here, chamaca”.

Te tengo en mi mente todo el tiempo. Todo el tiempo estallo por dentro.

“What are you doing?”

As soon as Stockton charter leaves the Templo, you don't care about the presence of your new family, but Creeper in front of you. He has changed. At least, his look. Wherever you try to find a blank space on his skin, there's another tattoo. Shaved head, black marks under his eyes. The ones that used to shine every day and now look dead.

“Maybe we sh—”. Bishop starts to say, getting up from his chair.

“Sit the fuck down, presidente”. No one is going to fuck with you. Not anymore. “The hell are you playing, Neron?”

“It wasn't our moment”.

Your eyelids widen, with both eyebrows raised up.

“Taking you with me five years ago, it would suppose you were dead today”.

“You didn't have to take me with you, but keep calling, keep texting. You are the one who is dead today”.

“I never stopped loving you”.

“Seriously, gu—”.

“Next time you interrupt us, Mayans gonna have a mute president”. Pointing at Bishop, you give Creeper back your attention. “You destroyed my life. You abandoned me without giving a shit. For what?”

“I paid you for your business here all these years. Your studies, your apartment. And I bought you your bike”.

“No. No, no, no. Mayans did. Oscar. Did”. You reply laughing with a bitter feeling stuck in your throat.

“I have called Oscar every day”.

Y mi corazón se encuentra fatal, que tú ya no me quieres. Esta mierda me va a matar. Que voy por el mundo vacía, pensando en sanar esta herida.

When the men leave the Templo, and Creeper sits in a chair closer to yours, you can't help but break into tears. All the pain that you were fighting against, now is back, seeing how one of his hands hold your right. Feel his touch again, with his fingers getting tangled with yours, is killing you. You can't even look at him. Your gaze is blurred, because of the tears piling up inside your eyes.

“Ain't gonna say that 'am sorry, cause that's bullshit. I just wanted to protect you, but I didn't know that I was pushing you to an emptiness, that was about to end up with your life”. He mutters, trying to keep a firm tone of voice, even if it breaks sometimes. “I tried to do the best for you, without knowing that the best for you is be by my side”.

“Wh—Why now?” You finally ask, licking your bottom lip, raising your head towards him.

“One month ago, in an Arizona run, I was about to die. I was… feeling how I was leaving this world, and I promised to God that if he gave me a second chance… I would come for you”.

Taking off his kutte, the half mexican lifts up his shirt. On his skin there are more tattoos than you can count, but even if you want to focus on the sewn bullet hole over his heart, your attention is on a phrase close to it. “I prefer to die for love, than die for hate”. Under it, your name and the day date you met.

“I have never stopped loving you, (Y/N)”.

Yo voy del infierno al Sol, que vuelvo por ti y sino no lo intento. Búscame, no digas adiós, que solo por ti a Dios le rezo.

His arms surround you, forcing you to sit on his lap as you used to spend the hours. Curling against his chest, Creeper holds you tightly, feeling that warm wrapping your body that begins to melt the cold ice that has your heart captive. Your cry gets loud, sinking your face under his chin. All this time you were hating him for abandoning you, he was just hiding in the shadows, watching over you. His scent floods your lungs, closing your eyes and trying to calm yourself. Your fingers get tangled in his shirt, when his lips kiss your forehead so dearly that make disappear all the sadness that was oppressing your chest. He will always have that power in you, as you have in him.

“I love you”. He mutters, feeling how his breath becomes somewhat shaky about to cry too. “Please, come with me”.

Resting his cheek on your head, you cling to his arms, surrounding them with yours the stronger as you can. You don't want him to leave you again. Not a second time.

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