#even though she knows(ignores) the fact that I’ve got social anxiety and have never done this before and don’t know what the fuck to do

[existentialcrisis-24-7]

I am not having a good time rn

#if you know me irl you didnt see this #there’s just so much going on rn tho. family shit (mostly relating to my parents’ divorce that is still affecting me deeply in spite of the #fact that I’m an adult and do not care for them). there’s just so many unprocessed feelings I’ve got #and some of my closest and longest irl friends have just been ignoring me about important shit unless I have something funny or interesting #(as in relating to their interests) to say. which sucks. and there’s also the fact that my mam just told me that I should never ever be #masculine bc she hates it and thinks it’s gross and I have openly told her on many occasions that I often feel masculine and like to present #that way. and there’s the fact that she keeps nagging me over giving her money that I’m desperately trying to save up bc I’ve never learned #money management and impulse control. and she refuses to help me set up a savings account bc ‘you(i) should just be able to go down myself’ #even though she knows(ignores) the fact that I’ve got social anxiety and have never done this before and don’t know what the fuck to do #got there’s just a lot rn and it’s not helping that I’m going back to education soon #which sucks #vent #none of you can stop me from venting

[xanadu07]

There are so many things I wish I could have told you, but I just didn’t have the courage. I have strong feelings of all kind, that constantly change and consume my soul. Questions upon questions, overthinking everything. I find myself in deep pain and sadness, so overwhelming that I just lose control. It s your choice if you ignore this, or you reply. But things need to at least be taken off my chest because I genuinely feel I am going insane.

Mostly these things came up to me after our meeting. I was absolutely sure I completely destroyed you, even you made me sure of it. You never lost the oportunity to make me feel that you are mess because of me, and until last months, I was there for you. Since we broke up, even though it was extremely hard for me, I was there. And now I simply cannot understand how do you say the things you say. I mean don’t get me wrong, I am glad that you are okay, but why did you have to destroy me in the process of your healing? I know I was terrible, but why did we go through months of you telling me horrible things, such as “I regret being with you” or “you are the reason I probably won’t love again” only so now you can tell me that someone has feelings for you and you might do something about it? I am not trying to get in your way, but this situation fills me with rage and despair. Why did you do this to me, only to find out in the end that I am the one who has problems such as social anxiety and panic attacks, and meanwhile you do not exclude being with someone else in the near future. Why did you tell me it would crush you if I would find someone but then you are telling me this?

I really don’t want this text to turn into a fight, I just need to let them out. I loved our discussion we had recently, but first thought I had after you left was “she didn’t apologize for a single thing she’s done” I know you don’t care much for apologies, but you are perfectly aware that hearing it might actually make a huge difference. I have probably been guilty for more, but look who is ok now and who is not. It absolutely hurts the shit out of me that I didn’t feel for a split second that you were sorry for the things you ve done to me. What would be the argument? What I did was worse? It so probably is, but that doesn’t mean that you can do this and just not feel sorry for a second. You said you care about me, so hear me out. To my maximum capabilities I’ve done absolutely everything I could to care for you. I know I have done plently mistakes but I kept going. I chose to dissapear when I noticed that I am not capabale of helping you, and you healed yourself.

It is so difficult to write all this, I don’t even know what I feel right now. Do I still love you, or do I love the memory of you? Do I miss you, or do I miss us? On one hand, I feel like leaving you was the biggest mistake I’ve ever done, but on the other hand I feel it was the right thing to do. Under the wrong circumstances but the right thing to do. Because even ignoring the things I have done we have got to a point where we couldn’t resonate as we could past years. On the day of our breakup, when I told you I lost feelings, that was bullshit. I thought I did because of the things that accumulated and the fact that we actually reached a breaking point in our relationship where it would have been extremely hard to continue. Now that you are better I am sure you feel the same. But do we feel the same on other things? You see, I don’t want you to love me, because loving me made you unhappy. It’s wierd, I am wierd. I wish you nothing but happiness, but a little thing inside me is killing me that I couldn’t offer you this anymore. On the other hand I feel grateful for everything that happened. So, here I am, stuck between feelings, but one thing I know for certain. You will always mean a lot to me, and in my way, I will always care for you and love you. Even though I feel you got me to a point from where it is impossible to get up, I will always love you. And I will do it how I love best, and how I will surely not hurt you. From the distance. I may be loving a memory, but that’s how you remained in me, the most beautiful memory. I can see just the most beautiful part of you, and even if you did what you did to me, I love even that version of you. I know you are sorry and you did not mean it, but it would mean the world if I actually heard it from you. It’s completely up to you, if you answer to this or not. I just, really needed to say it. Didn’t want to text you, but I wanted you to see. Somehow you are still the most important to me. And I can’t understand why I feel what I feel, and I am even questioning if I actually feel this, or I am just depressed and caught inside a cage of guilt and suffering. I did the best I could, even know, the thought of hurting you makes me cry, and even if you hurt me, you do not seem to care enough to say a lousy “I am sorry” for it. I do not want to anger you, please try to believe that this words have the tone that I had on the night we met. I am sorry for everything, I am sorry for existing, I am sorry for being toxic to you, I am sorry for hurting you. I just desperately seek redemption and it seems I may not even deserve it. I am such a mess. I am glad you are not, but I am so confused of how things changed so fast. I am in severe pain. I know you cannot be here for me, I won’t dare to ask it because it would hurt both of us, but I actually feel like this is how I will be from now on. I want you to be happy, and I feel that my poor existence stands in your way. I am hurting so bad, but I probably deserve it. The wheel has turned, as you warned me, and maybe your are happy about it. So let it be the way it is. Maybe I actually am a horrible person and only deserve suffering, and maybe you are a great person and you only deserve happiness. I am sorry for my life, I am sorry for wasting your time, I am sorry for feeling sorry. Oh my, I am such a mess. Please don’t be angry with me, because it seems that your attention controls me. I hate it, but I love it. I am such a fucking mess and I hate to blame you for it, but I am just trying to put down in words everything that my head is. So you see, I’m in trouble. I am sorry I am putting you through this. May this be something you respond to, or may this be my memory.

[storiesforallfandoms]

small world ~ corpse husband

word count: 2053

request?: yes!

“Can I get a Corpse x fem reader where reader an corpse are both streamers and they meet each other for the first time and realize they used to know each other as kids? I know Corpse has said that he didn’t have many friends when he was younger so maybe have it where reader was someone that was really nice to him? Sorry for the long request and thank you if you do it! 😊🖤”

description: he never would’ve thought that the new addition to their friend group would be someone from his past

pairing: corpse husband x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two)

“Hey Corpse,” Karl said. Corpse hummed in response, focused on the drawing he was doing for their Jackbox game. “(Y/N) is also from San Diego. Do you know her?”

(Y/N) chuckled. “Karl, San Diego is pretty big. We’re not bound to know one another. Besides, just because he lives here doesn’t mean he grew up here.”

“I did grow up in San Diego actually,” Corpse said. “I don’t think we would’ve known each other though. Even if we happened to be in the same area, I didn’t talk to many people and I dropped out in the seventh grade.”

“I was, regrettably, popular in school,” (Y/N) added.

“Regrettably?” Karl asked.

“Yeah. Looking back, I hated being popular. I hated it when I was popular even. My friends were mega jerks and made fun of everyone, even me sometimes. I would try and make them be nice but they just let the popularity go to their heads. I haven’t spoken to any of them since we graduated. There was this sort of outcast in middle school I used to have a crush on. I tried to be friends with him, but he preferred to keep to himself. I always wished I had been friends with him because I feel like I would’ve been so much happier. I never saw him again either. I wonder whatever happened to him.”

Something about her story triggered a memory in Corpse. The year before he dropped out, there was a girl in is class who was always nice to him and tried to talk to him. He brushed it off as another way he was being made fun of. When it kept up, though, he realized she was likely being genuine. He still kept his distance, but he found himself gaining some feelings for her as well. When he dropped out, he never heard from her again.

I wonder where she is now, Corpse thought to himself. Man, what was her name?

Corpse accidentally gasped, drawing the attention of everyone in the Discord call.

“You good Corpse?” George asked.

“Y-Yeah,” Corpse responded. “Just uh...just realized I fucked up my idea a bit. No big deal, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

The game started prompting for everyone to show what they had created. Taking the opportunity of not having to speak, Corpse went to Google (Y/N)’s YouTube channel. She had come into the game as a friend of Karl’s and Corpse hadn’t heard of her channel, but now somethings were starting to click together.

The first thing that popped up with the top Google Image for (Y/N)’s channel name. It was a beautiful girl laying in a garden of flowers with a wide smile on her face. Corpse sucked in a breath as he realized that the girl in the picture looked familiar.

“Corpse,” came Karl’s voice, snapping Corpse out of his trance. “It’s your turn.”

“Sorry,” Corpse said. “I was distracted.”

The rest of the stream Corpse felt like he was in a daze. He continued to play the games and forced out laughs when he realized someone was making a joke. Every time (Y/N) spoke, he felt his heart flutter with excitement. He couldn’t believe that after all these years he had finally been reunited with her. And what was better was that she had actually admitted to having feelings for him too!

Don’t get too excited, he thought to himself. She said she used to have a crush on you. That was a very long time ago.

He tried not to seem too eager when the stream finally ended. He waited for someone else to leave the call first before he exited out of it himself. He waited another few minutes before messaging (Y/N) directly on Discord.

hey. it was fun playing with you tonight. weird request, but can we voice call maybe? just the two of us?

Corpse didn’t expect her to respond any time soon. It was late in San Diego, like nearly 3am late. Most people were going to bed by now. She had mentioned once during the stream that she was starting to get sleepy. He figured she’d see it in the morning and either call, or just ignore the message.

To his surprise, near seconds later, she was calling him.

“Hey stranger,” she said when he answered. “Long time, no speak. You must’ve missed my voice a lot, huh?”

Corpse chuckled. “Exactly, I really did.”

“Makes sense. I do have the best voice on the internet.” She laughed this time. It sounded like such a perfect sound. “For real though, is everything alright? Why did you want to call?”

How did he even tell her? Hey, so you know that outcast you liked? It was me! Surprise!

No, he couldn’t say that. Maybe she wouldn’t even remember, or maybe she wouldn’t believe him. He had to figure out some way to bring it up.

“I kind of wanted to talk more about your popular school days,” he said, trying to keep his voice light and teasing. “It’s not every day I meet a streamer who’s in my own area code. It would be nice to get to know someone who isn’t like a five hour drive away.”

“Oh!” She seemed excited by this response. Her excitement was almost contagious. “Okay, where should I start? The shitty friends or the shallow popularity?”

Corpse chuckled. “You pick.”

She talked for nearly an hour about her high school experiences with her popular friend group. Despite how much she despised being popular, (Y/N) still spoke with a light tone in her voice. She tried to bypass a lot of the more negative details and speak only of the good experiences she went though, which was nice to hear.

Corpse nearly jumped with excitement when she began to talk about middle school unprompted.

“It really was the last good years I had in school,” she admitted. “All my friends, the ones who went on to be super popular with me, they were nice then. Annoying, but all middle schoolers are. We didn’t care about popularity or social rankings. We were just...we were just kids. We didn’t even really know the difference between ‘losers’ and ‘popular’, which was why it was so easy for me to talk to that guy that I liked at the time. My friends weren’t mocking me for having feelings for an outcast.”

“You said you never saw that guy again,” Corpse said. “Do you know what happened to him?”

She sighed heavily. “No, I don’t. He just stopped showing up before we hit high school. I thought he moved, but I knew his mom and I saw her around everywhere. I don’t even remember his name anymore to look him up. Wherever he is, though, I hope he’s doing better. Even if they weren’t sucked completely into their popularity at the time, my friends and the other kids were still awful to him.”

“I feel that,” he said. “I wasn’t exactly the most liked kid in school. Before I dropped out I didn’t even have any friends.”

“That’s awful.”

“It wasn’t too bad. I’m not really a friendly person I don’t think. I’ve worked on it since that time, but the thought of trying to maintain a social relationship still gives me anxiety from time to time. There was one girl who tried to be friends with me the year before I dropped out though. She was nice.”

“What happened to her?”

Corpse smiled to himself. She would figure it out soon, he knew she would.

“I just didn’t hear from her after I dropped out,” he responded. “I guess that’s mainly my fault. I never reached out to her or anything, but I barley knew her name. Just her first time, and she never gave me a number or anything. I couldn’t look her up online. Maybe we just weren’t destined to be together.”

“I don’t know about that. Maybe you two were just right people, wrong time. Maybe you’ll cross paths again and finally have that opportunity to be friends with her again.”

“Maybe you’ll cross paths with that guy from your middle school, too.”

There was a prolonged silence. Corpse wondered if (Y/N) was starting to put the pieces together. He could barley even hear her breathe. The longer she went, the more worried he was becoming. He was about to say something when she finally spoke again.

“I made him a Valentine,” she said, her voice soft. “Special handmade one. He was the only one I gave it to. It had some really badly written, sappy poem in it. I watched him open it and...I really think he got emotional while reading it. Of course, he’d never tell anyone that.”

Corpse had gotten emotional over the Valentine (Y/N) had given him. It was the first real Valentine he had ever gotten. It wasn’t one of the generic ones that everyone gave out to every classmate so no one felt excluded. It was made from the heart, and that fact alone touched his. Like (Y/N) said, though, he didn’t let anyone know how emotional he had gotten. It would’ve just been more mental ammo for them to use to bully him.

He quickly got up from his chair, racing to his room where he had his box of memories shoved in his closet. It was little things from throughout his life that he kept in a shoebox. Whenever he felt particularly down or depressed, he would open the shoebox and look at all the things that made him smile.

At the very top of the box was (Y/N)’s Valentine.

He went back to his computer and took a picture of the Valentine using his phone.

“That sounds really nice,” he said as he went into the Discord app on his voice. “It must’ve meant a lot to him that you put so much time and effort into a handmade gift.”

“I don’t know if it did. I never got to ask him what his reaction was.”

“Oh, I’d bet anything he was happy.”

He sent the picture through Discord and waited for (Y/N) to open it. The silence between them felt deafening. The seconds felt like they had slowed to hours. He wondered what (Y/N)’s reaction would be. Maybe she’d be weirded out by the fact that Corpse kept the Valentine, or by the fact that Corpse was the middle school crush in general.

What if she’s upset that this is who I am now? he asked himself. What if her crush was just a middle school thing, and the moment you dropped out she moved on?

“I knew it.”

Corpse couldn’t help the smile on his face when he heard the slight excitement in (Y/N)’s voice.

“I knew it was you!” she continued. “Well, I didn’t know know, but when you asked me to call you I had a bit of a suspicion. I can’t believe it...it’s actually you!”

“It is me,” he confirmed. “And it’s you.”

“Small world we live in, huh?”

“Yeah, small world.” Do you still like me? Did you ever stop? Do you know that your kindness stuck with me for so long?

The silence returned. Corpse was starting to get sick of it, but he didn’t know how to fill the void between them. When he heard her yawn, he realized how late it had gotten. “I’ll let you go, you sound tired.”

“We just had this breakthrough and you’re asking me to sleep?!”

Corpse chuckled. “You have to sleep eventually, (Y/N). It’s like 3:30am, normal people sleep at this hour.”

“I am offended you would think I’m anywhere near normal.” She yawned again, cutting off her short lived rant. “But you’re right, I am tired. Listen...promise me you’ll answer when I call tomorrow. I...I’d really like to catch up. Maybe...to pick up where we left off.”

“Okay,” Corpse said, then realized that wasn’t really a response. “I promise. I’ll be waiting by the phone the moment I open my peepers.”

(Y/N) giggled. “I’ll be sure to call you the moment I open mine.”

“Goodnight (Y/N). Sleep tight.”

“Goodnight Corpse underscore Husband.”

kind of a bad ending, but i wasn’t really sure where else to go with it as i wrote it. sorry! :(

#corpse husband #corpse husband imagine #corpse #corpse imagine #corpse x reader #request #imagine #one shot #fanfiction #fanfic

[becomingbts]

Time heals (sometimes) - 1

Summary: 6 years ago, (Y/N) thought that she was finally taking her life into her hands, leaving behind a toxic and abusive relationship with a man who taught her she’d never be worthy of love. However, it became hard to ignore his words when she met her seven soulmates who rejected her without even giving her a chance to prove herself. It took (Y/N) 3 years to realize that it wouldn’t be her end. She would live on to prove them all wrong; she would become what they all thought she wasn’t: someone worthy of love. And as she stands proudly on the stage, under the  burning spotlights and the applause and  the cries of the delirious crowd, she feels alive. Alive, just like the bond she believed to be broken.

Pairings: Y/N x OT7

GENRE: Soulmate AU!, Idol Y/NAU!, semi social-media AU!, ANGST (mainly), fluff, romance, maybe smut in the series.

Ask or comment to be tagged!

1.5k

Warnings:  The series is going to be heavy with a lot of personal experiences  mixed into the fiction, so this is going to be kind of therapeutic for me. Please, consider not reading the series if you are not comfortable with: abandonment issues, anxiety, panic attacks, depression, self-harm (not descriptive and only part of MC’s past), suicide thoughts (in the past), toxic behavior, toxic and abusive relationship (in the past), depreciating self-talk and low self-esteem, a lot of curse, physical and mental pain, near death experience situation (in the past), and maybe smut scenes (happy ending though, but it will probably be quite the ride).

NOTE: So hello everyone, welcome to Time Heals (sometimes). Thank you so, so much for the warm welcoming, it has been my first time getting so many asks, I was honestly overjoyed. I still don’t really know what to call this part; is it a teaser? A note? A full chapter? I believe we’ll get some snapshot of memories like this one throughout the series because there is going to be a lot to unpack on both sides. I think it will be a chapter nevertheless because I have to establish some kind of order as to which parts should be read first, and I think this one is extremely important.

Thank you for reading,

-Dolly

Profiles #2 - here - part 2

Her scream pierced through the air while cries broke in the frenzied arena while a single blond-haired man froze, emptily staring at the stage. It felt like his senses heightened; his skin was shuddering, his eyes were frantically searching for one specific figure while his voice was lost in his throat. The screams resonating in the stadium would have been too loud for his voice to be heard anyway. 

Jimin knew he shouldn’t be there. 

Namjoon had told them more than once that none of them should try to go to one of (Y/N)’s events. It could be dangerous and they could be overwhelmed; anything could happen to them and they would still remain a nobody who fainted in the howling crowd. Would they want to take this risk? No.

So, Jimin would have had to admit that going to her very first concert in Seoul since the pandemic sounded like a very, very, very bad idea. And to be honest, it still didn’t seem to be a bright idea now that he was actually there. 

But he still went because he needed to see her for himself; to see how she was. He had so many things he dreamed about asking her. Are you okay? Are you sleeping well? Did you eat before coming to the arena? Are you nervous? Do you... remember me? 

Maybe he was torturing himself. He kept on watching her lives, following her on all social media, always made sure to leave a sweet comment, and never miss any of her new updates... Maybe he even had a folder of pictures of her on his phone but he’d never admit it to any of his mates. Taehyung would probably take his phone away from him and delete everything and Jimin couldn’t let that happen.

He felt like it was cheating. Don’t take him wrong though. When he thought that, he was not really thinking about the boys. They did collectively agree not to follow her activities as an artist but it was getting harder and harder with how popular she got anyway. Moon was everywhere. In commercials, on the radio, her songs were on the TV… Even if she was known for refusing most of the promotional contracts that were offered to her, her image was still constantly in the media despite her avoidance of it. Ironic, but the media were trying their best to find anything about her, be it positive or negative. One day she was seen on her bike, the next, she was in a coffee shop, and it kept on going on, overstepping on her privacy as if it was just a meaningless word. 

The lockdown had admittedly played a major part in Jimin’s obsession. Being in their apartment meant quickly running out of activities, and his job as a dance teacher was not really filling his free time (a lot of his classes were also canceled). It was also during that time that (Y/N) truly blew up as an independent artist. Advertisement on YouTube started being around her channel and her music, the recommendations he kept on seeing were about also her… Jimin’s resolve honestly broke easily. It was hard not to be curious about his lost soulmate even though he didn’t feel like he had the right to be hurting. 

Anyway, to come back to his main point, if Jimin felt like he was cheating; it was mostly for her. After all, (Y/N) had no means of letting the curiosity get the best of her, to know what they were doing; to simply see or contact them. He had, at first, not really thought about that. Watching her content seemed a very innocent thing to do in his opinion; billions of people were watching her content, why should he prevent himself from doing so? Yet, Jimin could still remember one of her live she did soon after that interview she had given on this damned radio show where she had revealed who her title track ‘TIME’ was about… She had gone live the next day-Jimin had jumped on his phone because of the notification-and one fan had asked her what would she do if she knew that her ‘ex-soulmates’ (and those words left a very sour taste in Jimin’s mind) were watching her. The question had silenced a previously restless Jimin, replacing his initial excitation with dread while a lump formed itself in his throat. He had not even noticed it; he was so focused on her live and her upcoming answer that Jimin had completely missed the sound of a glass breaking in the apartment. Jimin had been home alone, so even if had indeed heard it, he probably wouldn’t have bothered to check what had happened, thinking that the wind knocked it over or something. Jimin had been so absorbed by what he had been watching that he even got surprised a few hours later when Seokjin came home and yelled at him for breaking something when he had been clearly innocent, engrossed in (Y/N)’s live (not that he could tell his soulmates about that part, but yeah). (Y/N)’s live would always be more important than some random glass breaking again in their apartment. Every object was doomed with Namjoon living here anyway.

On her side of the screen though, (Y/N) had seemed taken aback as she had read the question and had gritted her teeth gently. She had seemed to be pondering about her answer even though a lot of people in her chat were telling her to forget about the question if it made her uncomfortable (a lot were even scolding the person who asked). Yet, sighing softly, she had looked up at the screen: 

“I’d appreciate it if you could refrain from asking questions on this topic. It’s not taboo but I’d rather not remember everything that comes with it. However, to answer this-hopefully-last question about it, I’d ask them to turn off my stream and to stop watching any of my content. It would only be fair after all. I’ve been denied access to their lives six years ago, why would they get a free pass into mine now?” She had not smiled nor had she seemed hurt by her own comment, yet Jimin’s heart had shattered in pieces, unable to press the cancel button. 

Her voice had slowly faded into background noise while her words had been stuck in his head. 

I’d ask them to turn off my stream and to stop watching any of my content. 

How could Jimin ever do that? He realized that he truly should. Namjoon would even agree with you, as ironic as it sounded for Jimin. Namjoon had been one of the most adamant ones about rejecting your bond, after all. Jimin was shaking with bitterness while ‘Moon’ continued her stream peacefully with music. Jimin could only try to gulp his anger down as he remembered her crumbling features on that fateful day. 

“You’re not our soulmates. This name on our arms means nothing to us. You are nothing to us if not a hindrance. Leave us alone.” 

If Jimin could go back in time, he’d prevent Taehyung from spatting those words at her. Yet, he couldn’t do anything. Playing the scene over and over in his mind wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t change that she probably hated them. It wouldn’t change the song she made about them. 

And worst of all, it wouldn’t change the fact that Jimin had let himself believe that their choice had been for the best, trying to console and reassure himself, even if he had already known that it was wrong. Tears were pooling up in his eyes even if none escaped as he finally caught a glimpse of her on the stage. Suddenly brought back to reality after his subconscious memory trip, Jimin finally connected back to the world, looking around while he was still frozen on his spot. People were still screaming around him and he wondered if he looked like an intruder. Because, after all, wasn’t that what he exactly was? She said it herself that she didn’t wish for them to watch her; so what was he doing here? 

Jimin couldn’t help but stare; she looked ethereal, dressed like a queen in the middle of a sold-out arena. People were screaming her name as she yelled her infamous ‘hi people’. It was an opening sentence that Jimin heard way too many times in her vlogs and suddenly hearing it in real life seemed surreal. 

Jimin could only watch in awe, entranced with her everything. 

Screw the boys and what they would think once he’d be back from her concert. 

He had been the one to find her six years ago anyway. He had been the one to bring her to their home six years ago, hoping for the boys to change their mind once they’d meet her.

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Uploaded : 09/04/2021

Taglist: @sweetmoonlight9, @mickmoon, @dreamer95, @loveyoongles, @spicetouched , @jikooksgirl19, @summerevelyn , @springjade , @clevercoley, @prooteus, @sehun096rainbow, @ainsle-e, @ifyouareme, @sunshinee0-0, @fangirl125reader, @sea-nevermind-enthusiast, @atlantis-atlas, @thequeen-kat, @naajix, @skyys-universe , @sichajeon , @yukiehyukie, @amxranthinesworld , @bunzom, @potate-oh, @mawwnsterr​, @ celaenaelentiyavox, @dvoz-writes​ , @honeybaby-94​ ,

#bts #bts fanfiction #bts fluff #bts angst #bts smut #magicshopnet #author: dolly #verse: idol #verse: soulmate #soulmate au #bts soulmate au #yn idol #lot of angst #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #namjoon x reader #seokjin x reader #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader #jimin centred #jimin pov #Angst with a happy ending

[sparring-hyena]

Ok i got a request . Remember how Chris Kait and James got those special 1 chapter episodes where they go on special dates. It would be cool to see Beccas. So its set after Book 3. Instead of going to the festival with the gang Mc decides to visit Becca first at her lakehouse and then they go to the festival just her and Becca. They ll share lots of sweet moments at the pool more fun at the concert and later on at home things can get a bit heated.

Becca reaches for her phone with the intent to scroll through her social feeds. really, she does. opening her messaging app is a reflex. opening the short text thread she has with Alex is just an accident. and typing out a hey, what’re you up to? is… a mistake? some kind of predetermined notion written into the fabric of reality?

whatever. it doesn’t matter what it is. no, what matters is that she does, send a text to Alex that is, and that she tosses her phone to the other side of couch as soon as she hits send, almost like it burns her hands.

she stares at her phone, waits for it to react to what she just did—maybe it’ll implode. she’s almost surprised when her phone buzzes a few minutes later. and she’ll never admit to just how fast she jumps forward to snatch it up.

it’s Alex. Alex responded. okay. cool cool cool.

my friends and i are on a road trip. we’ve just passed into California. you?

the you? twists itself into Becca’s mind. slips into every nook and cranny until it’s she can think and feel, and her heart is going ba-dum ba-dum and she definitely can’t just say oh, not much. just by myself at my dad’s lake house because he’s trying to buy my love now that my parents are getting divorced. except she does say that. word for word. it tumbles from her mind onto her phone and then she hits send and holds her breath in her throat as she waits for Alex’s response.

want some company then?

and what really surprised Becca is that she answers with yes.

-

in the days leading up to Alex’s arrival she cleans. not that there’s much to clean—the house is big, and she’s kept to one small part of it. she also rifles through her closet and decides, an hour before Alex is due to arrive, that she doesn’t have anything to wear. the clothes laying forgotten on her bed disagree, but she ignores that and feels the anxiety twist itself around her.

and then her phone buzzes and there’s a knock at the door. Alex is here. Alex is early.

shit.

she tosses on the first thing she can grab and runs her hands through her hair before darting down to the front door.

when Becca opens the door, Alex greets her with a warm smile that simultaneously calms and frightens. frightens, because how does her smile have such an effect on me. they stand awkwardly in the doorway until Alex clears her throat and asks, “did you wanna invite me in?”

“right.” Becca steps aside and motions Alex in.

Alex whistles as she looks around, still holding her bag in front of her. “nice place.”

Becca shrugs, because it is nice, stunning really, but the house doesn’t feel quite right—it never really has. it’s big and empty and somehow always manages to be cold even during summer.

“come on, i’ll show you around.”

-

it’s as they walk through the house that Becca realises she’s not quite sure what they are. they aren’t enemies, and now she wonders if they ever actually were. and they definitely aren’t dating. dating implies some level of commitment that Becca doubts she could ever really give. and then there would be intimacy and comfort and little inside jokes that they’d share quiet smiles over.

but that doesn’t matter anyway because she would never want to date Alex—never ever. dating Alex would be complicated and messy and she has a reputation and expectations that Alex doesn’t fit and—

“you doin’ alright there?”

“huh?” Becca shakes the thoughts away.

Alex tilts her head to the side and offers a small curious smile that manages to worm its way into Becca’s heart and find a place for itself amidst all the dark twisty tendrils that have been growing with each passing day.

“why are you looking at me like that?” Becca asks, her tone both defensive and amused.

“like what?”

“like you’re trying to read my mind.”

“i’m not, i just—” Alex sighs and Becca suddenly wonders what she’d been about to say. “you mentioned swimming?”

“swimming, right.” Becca knows a digression when she hears one, but she points to a room Alex can get changed in and says she’ll meet her downstairs.

-

Becca doesn’t actually swim. she sits on the edge of the dock beneath the dying afternoon sun and traces the water with her toes. Alex swims though, splashes around for a short while and tries to gently prod Becca in too. but Becca holds firm and insists that she’s more than happy on the dock.

Alex climbs out later, dripping water onto the dock and creating a small puddle that manages to spread and reach Becca’s leg. she pretends Alex dripping water on her irritates her and pretends to hate it when she flicks water at her.

Alex sits down beside her, and Becca thinks she’s waiting for her to break the silence that’s comfortably settled between them.

“do you wanna talk about it?” Alex finally asks.

Becca wonders which it they’re talking about—her parents’ divorce or the fact that some fundamental piece of their relationship or friendship or whatever they are, is changing. maybe it’s both. maybe it’s neither.

“thank you for visiting me,” she says instead. “i’m sure it pales in comparison to a road trip with your friends.”

“hardly.” Alex smiles and nudges Becca’s shoulder with her own. “we were all cramped in a van that doesn’t have working a/c. besides, i like hanging out with you, it’s…”

Becca raises her eyebrows, curious and nudging Alex on.

“easy.”

Becca laughs, like, full body laughs. never in her life has she been described as easy to be around.

“what’s so funny?”

“nothing, nothing.” Becca tries to suppress her laughter, but it doesn’t work.

“i was trying to be nice.” Alex makes a show of being hurt, even makes to leave, but the smile on her face tells a very different story.

“no, sorry.” Becca places her hand gently on Alex’s arm; wants her to believe the sincerity behind her words. “it was nice and i didn’t mean to laugh. i’ve just never been described as easy before, and with everything going on, i guess it’s been a while since something’s made me laugh.”

“oh.” Alex settles on the dock again and Becca’s hand remains on her arm. “are you talking with your parents much?”

Becca shrugs. “mom’s trying. i think we’re both just having a hard time adjusting to speaking to each other. it’s been good but strange.”

“and your dad?”

Becca barks out a laugh. “i think he’s just as clueless. only difference is he’s not making much of an effort. my sister and i were supposed to spend some time with him here over the summer. look how that turned out.”

“i’m sorry.”

“i don’t need pity—”

“i wasn’t pitying you.”

“i know, but it’s just…”

“just…?”

and Alex’s arm is suddenly very warm beneath Becca’s hand. warm and solid and grounding and— they’ve done this before. played this game where they share their insecurities and offer something dangerously close to companionship.

it won’t end well, she thinks, but her heart thumps along and tells her to indulge just this once. what’s one more time anyway?

“we shouldn’t,” Becca breathes, because one of them needs to say it.

“probably,” Alex agrees, but neither of them move to put some space between them.

“but we could.”

“definitely.”

“it would be” —amazing is the word she thinks— “fun,” is the word she says with a playful lilt to her voice that she hopes distracts from the longing want she can feel in her bones.

they’re closer now, faces no more than a couple inches apart, and the air around them feels stiff somehow, like the world around them took one massive breath and is now waiting for them to do something about the balloon of tension that’s been slowly inflating for months.

and then the balloon bursts, and there’s kissing and moaning and wandering hands and— oh god, Becca suddenly remembers why she wanted to do this again. it feels like electricity zapping up and down her body. it hurts and it heals, and she wonders if they’ll ever do this again—silently hopes that they will.

she pulls Alex closer, decides that it’s still not enough—some tiny part of her heart hums and says that it never will be—and moves to straddle her lap and thread her fingers through her hair.

“here?” Alex asks between frantic and hurried kisses.

Becca hums and urges Alex’s hands further down her body.

it happens quickly after that. the coil inside Becca tightens each time Alex moves her fingers and moans her name and nips at her neck and— it snaps. the coil snaps and its wonderful and horrible and Becca is suddenly acutely aware of the place Alex holds in her heart.

and that— it terrifies her, because for the first time in her life she has no idea how it will go.

-

they head back up to the house not long later, stumbling through the first floor and upstairs as they share laughs and kisses. and when they reach the foot of the bed, Becca pushes Alex back and is quick to return the favour.

-

Becca wakes early in the morning on her side and facing Alex who’s fast asleep and completely dead to the world. she takes this moment, this brief interlude, to consider her next move.

the last time they did this, she left as soon as she woke up. though leaving isn’t exactly an option right now, and Becca finds that even if it were, leaving is the last thing she wants to do.

she brings her hand to Alex’s face and brushes a loose piece of hair behind her ear. the gesture, though small, is enough to cause Alex to stir.

“hi,” Alex says, her voice heavy with sleep and eyes barely open.

“hi.”

“you were right,” she says, sporting a tired grin, “it was fun.”

Becca hums and shifts closer to Alex, tracing lazy patterns on her shoulder. “how long can you stay?”

“how long do you want me to stay?”

“i asked you first.”

“so?”

“humour me.”

their back-and-forth is light, airy. it’s how they usually talk. but there’s insecurity that hides beneath it all. insecurity that itches to be breathed into the world and soothed away.

“well, my friends and i were going to the aurora music festival tomorrow.”

“oh.”

“but maybe, if you wanted to, you could come with?”

“are you asking me to go with you?”

“i asked you first.”

Becca smacks Alex’s shoulder but can’t stop the smile on her face. “yes, i want to go.”

“good” —Alex leans in then, stops only when their lips are just about to touch— “because i really want you to come with me.”

“is that so?”

Alex hums and brings their lips together in a slow and easy kiss that Becca’s all too happy to get lost in.

“wait, hang on.” Alex pulls away, a suddenly serious expression on her face. “you didn’t tell me how long you wanted me to stay.”

forever is the word she thinks, but she just smiles and brings their lips together again, and she thinks that Alex might just understand.

#my writing #request #anon #becca davenport #becca x mc #the freshman #the sophomore #the junior #the senior #playchoices

[narrators-journal]

Step one

Hoo boy, this one is potentially dark as fuck, so remember that this is entirely fantasy. Do not think this is healthy or copy anything here.

Cw: heavy heavy nsfw. Drugging, b+e, somnophilia, Illumi gets possessive lowkey

previous part: here

First part: here

Illumi used the month or so you were closed off and mourning to try and dig up as much intimate info on you as he could, from childhood fears to how many times you've had sex. With this knowledge added to his collection, the last thing he needed to do was set up a cover story, than introduce himself. If this fails, she can be killed, or trained He told himself as he read through your social media on his laptop, ignoring a nagging sense of dread he hadn't felt since his first solo kill as a child.

The cover story was easy enough, murdering the people across the street from your home was boringly simple, setting them up to die of heart attacks and a break in, waiting out the investigation, nothing new to the assassin. By the time things had cleared up there, you were beginning to cheer up anyway, which was good, it'd be easier for Illumi to court you if you weren't verging into suicidal territory. Finally, the day came when he moved into the home, much to the teary refusal of his mother.       "I'm not leaving permanently," Illumi assured her the day he moved out, taking only a duffel bag of clothing with him, the issue was that his mother was holding him in a hug and refusing to let go. "You were so excited for me to be courting a woman, you can't sob and cling to me when I need to move out to properly 'woo' her." His voice was level and uninterested, as always, though on the inside he did feel a bit of reluctance at leaving, which was why he guessed he didn't use a lot of force to remove his mother's iron grip.        "I know, but why can't you go about the process from home?" she blubbered, Illumi's father standing a bit behind her sighing at her antics,              "To build up proper propinquity I need to be near her a lot, I cannot do that from here while also doing my work. Besides, it is relatively frowned upon for a 24 year old to still be living with their parents, so I need to have my own place for...the later portion." Sadly, even logic didn't calm Kikyo down, so Silva was forced to pry her from Illumi and simply wished the long haired assassin well as the man left. To atone for the sin of leaving the Zoldyck estate, Illumi was required to call his mother at least once a day, but other than that, he was free to live across the street from you when he wasn't working. This set up proved to be very useful, as it allowed him to linger on the street without suspicion, watch you from his windows, and it gave him more opportunities to run into you 'organically', despite having your meager outing schedule memorized already, and more. The day he moved in properly, Illumi was helping a trio of butlers move furniture in, trying to seem as normal as possible since he could see you sitting on your porch, getting some fresh air while also watching your new neighbor curiously. It's good to see her out at least, vitamin D is necessary for good health. he thought as he moved the last bit of strategically aged furniture into the home, letting the butlers return home after that. If he was to blend in, he'd have to slum it for a while after all. Though, he could put up with that as long as you stayed as friendly as you were the first night he was there. It was pretty late, the dark hours cooling the relatively warm air of the late spring day when he heard a knock at the door, but when he opened, there you were, your (h/l), (h/c) hair pulled away from your face, in a (f/c) jacket and some of your nicer casual clothes,       "Hello! I'm sorry if you were asleep or anything, but I wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood!" you chirped, your kind smile making something weird happen to his heart, but he hid that, not wanting to scare you by saying he was having a heart attack,      "Ah, hello miss. No, I was just trying to cook some dinner, not to worry." he assured, watching you relax a bit before tilting his head, "I'm sorry if this is curt, but have we met?" he asked, your (e/c) eyes shining with confusion for a moment before realization washed that away,       "Oh! you're the man I bumped into at that party!" he mimicked your stunned reaction, chatting a bit before you heard angry sizzling from his kitchen, the sound earning a concerned look from you. "Um?? Should you step outside?" you suggested, and when he looked in your eyes again, he saw that undeserved concern in those captivating orbs. That weird feeling returned in response, but Illumi repressed it once again,        "No, I believe that's just my food," he said nonchalantly, watching your expression change to panic, it was so intriguing to see how expressive you were compared to his family,        "Maybe you should go check on it??" you urged gently, the panicked look in your eyes compelling the empathy-less assassin to do as you said, so he nodded simply and returned to the pot of boiling water that was leaking with angry bubbles splashing water onto the burner. He simply turned the stove off and returned to you once the water had settled again. You were still there, nervously peeking in to try and check on him he assumed.        "Why didn't you come in?" He asked, making you jump,        "I-I wasn't invited, it's rude to just walk in." you pointed out, and he mentally kicked himself for forgetting that fact briefly. Though he verbally just sighed in defeat, running a hand through his long, silky hair.         "Actually, would it be uncouth of me to maybe ask if you would help me with something?" He asked, and when you shook your head he reluctantly continued, "You see, my family is rather well off, so I've...never learned to cook. Would you maybe teach me how to make the food?" He asked, and he liked to think it was the power of his natural charm that made you agree, not the pitiful mask of helplessness he put on. Either way though, you were now inside of his new home. Could this be considered a date? Illumi mused as he followed your instructions to bring the water to a boil again and put the store-bought noodles into the rolling liquid, People cook together as a date, so this should count as a date. He decided after a moment of watching you prepare food, following your orders until the two of you had managed to make a rather respectable looking dinner. He cemented this occassion's 'date' status by handing you a plate,          "It's fair that since you helped make it, you eat some of it with me." he pointed out when you went to refuse his offering. After that, the two of you sat in his living room in silence, neither making the first move to speak. For Illumi, the silence was comfortable, it gave him time to judge the weird thing that had happened with his insides. He wasn't dead, and the warm, fluttery sensation was fading, so it didn't seem to be fatal. I should get the family doctor to check me over. he decided as he ate, finally glancing over at you while you sat on the opposite end of the couch. Judging by the tension in your limbs and how you radiated discomfort, you were about to bolt like a scared rabbit. That's not good...

        "so." He hummed, hoping to ease your anxiety with some conversation, plus it'd give him a chance to dig into you, "why were you at that party?" There was a stretch of silence, your mood falling again for a moment, but than you seemed to put on a fake smile for him, how sweet.         "I'm a bit shy, so my friend decided to try and hook me up with a man she worked with." you explained, shrugging it off, "He ended up ditching me for some friends when we got there, so I didn't ask for a second date." Well of course your date went badly, you're supposed to be with me, not some stranger. a dark part of him thought, than stopped. What brought that up? I haven't even decided if she's really worth 'dating'. He reminded himself, but that possessive thought still lingered a bit more than he would've liked. However, that issue was for later, right now he wanted to see just how much information he could get you to willingly tell him.       "So, are you looking for a partner?" he asked, and he just caught a bit of a flustered epression on your (s/c) face at his question. He was beginning to enjoy seeing such an expression.        "R-right now? Um..not actively, b-but I'm not against a relationship." you said, not looking at him as you spoke, your body language screaming how flustered you were. After that, the two of you simply chatted, Illumi enjoying when you fully relaxed and opened up a bit more, but what felt like only a short time later, you were thanking him for the food and leaving for your own home. The tall man was polite back, but for the third time that night, his torso felt odd inside. He wanted to ask you to stay, maybe offer you a drink and slip a sedative into it, that way you'd stay the night, but no, he refrained from stopping you. If you drug her, she'll wake up tomorrow and be terrified of you. Maybe even call the cops. He told himself as he shut his door behind you. However, the thoughts were already there, making him groan. What is going on with me?! I'm losing control of myself so easily now. he thought, rubbing his face as if that would wipe away the bubbling waves of dark lust that were once again flooding his mind with images of you naked beneath him, calling out his name, mixing with the urge to control that he usually kept a close eye on. This is absolutely pathetic. She's not even that attractive! He chided himself, glaring down at the growing bulge in his pants as if it were to blame for his urges. Which, to a point was true, but either way it still twitched, demanding to be tended to. However, he refused to masturbate again. His sperm was precious, and while he could produce quite enough to impregnate a woman despite such a shameful act, he didn't like wasting his DNA. So, for a bit, he tried to cook up ways to relieve himself, unable to shake the lustful thoughts of you. Could he wait until tomorrow and lure you over again? No, that'd leave a horrid impression of him in your mind. Maybe he could sneak some aphrodisiacs into your food and than offer to help? No, that'd take too long, and he didn't know how long he could control his lust. Around eleven or so, Illumi finally came up with a satisfactory method. So, he turned his lights off and slipped out into the cool night to slither across the street and into your dark home. It was late enough that he knew you were asleep, so he was free to make his way in and towards your bedroom, What he wasn't expecting though, was to find you sleeping on your couch, your blanket fallen to the floor, revealing your pajamas to him. The sight only seemed to throw gasoline on the fire of neglected needs within him.       "now this is simply inappropriate," he breathed, shaking his head at your baggy t-shirt and (random color) panties, "(y/n), you should know better. Such outfits should be saved for your husband." He kept his voice low, making sure not to wake you as he chided you and his lightless eyes zeroed in on the bit of panty he could see with the way your shirt was ridden up ever so slightly. teasingly. He sighed, this would make his plan easier anyway. So, he just pulled out a needle of sedative and carefully moved you so that he could get access to your neck without waking you, sticking the needle in and injecting you with the fast acting drug. Within a few moments you were certain to stir for nothing less than a natural disaster, so he was free to do whatever he wished. The assassin's body burned with lust, his cock throbbing within his pants while he moved your thighs apart, revealing more of your panties. You weren't much to look at, he'd seen prettier women, but the feeling of your perfectly malleable thigh in his hand, seeing you so complacent and welcoming for him while his hormones were so out of control, you could've passed as a goddess in that moment. He wasted no time in removing your underwear, leaving your shirt and bra on so it'd be less work afterwards, revealing your most intimate parts to him with no arguments. It gave him such a rush to see you so obediently laying on your back, your legs apart and welcoming. your vulnerability was like a form of foreplay for him, but when he ran a slender finger up your slit and realized just how dry you were, it ruined his fantasy. Though, not enough to deter him. Instead of stopping, Illumi simply pushed your shirt up with your bra, using one hand to massage your breast while he kissed down your sternum and up the soft mound of flesh. His free hand slipped between the two of you, rubbing slow circles around your clit until breathy whines and moans slipped from your lips. Carefully, he teased your nipple between his fingers, simultaneously moving up to your throat until he found the spot that made you gasp and whine in your sleep again. The only downside was despite how badly he wanted to mark you, he couldn't. He had to wait until he securely had you, until then he couldn't leave any visual evidence of his actions. So, he nibbled and kissed the spot, but didn't bite too roughly and claim you. He simply teased you, rubbing your clit, massaging your breasts or hip, and pressing hungry kisses to your unresponsive lips until he could dip his fingers down into your warmth and pull them back coated with a healthy amount of slick. With you properly aroused, he eagerly freed his throbbing dick from his pants, giving himself a few pumps before running the head up and down your slit, making you hum at the stimulation. God, how he relished how your face twitched and you groaned at the feeling of him grabbing one of your legs with one of his hands before pushing into you. God the tight warmth alone could've made him cum, but he once again held himself back. He'd gone this far, he wasn't about to squander the opportunity to indulge himself by not savoring it. No, He simply grabbed your hips once fully inside and began moving, pretty soon slapping his hips into yours roughly. He might regret being so aggressive later, when it undoubtedly left you sore, or at the very least left bruises and scratches, but right now he just enjoyed the way your pussy squeezed around him and your breasts bounced with each rough thrust into your womb. He let out a few soft noises after a bit when the waves of pleasure began fogging over his mind again. The combination of your breathy moans, your warmth squeezing around him, begging to be filled, and the possessive urge to claim you continuously driving him forward, encouraging him to go until the blinding waves of pleasure erupted and he stilled himself so that every drop of cum was safely inside of your womb. It took him longer than usual to regain his composure afterwards, but when he did he swiftly pulled out, pulling his pants up and slipping your panties back onto you before too much of his essence escaped. He grimaced at the marks of his nails on your (s/c) flesh, though hopefully they would fade before you noticed. Right now though, his main priority was to get out of your home, and leave as little evidence as possible, save for his cum. He refused to feel sorry for filling his obviously needy wife with perfectly good semen. That's right. his wife. The phrase seemed to fit perfectly.

#Illumi x reader #yandere illumi x reader #Illumi zoldyck #x reader #hxh #hunter x hunter #yandere #part 6 #fanfiction #quotev #not sfw

[notprofessionalwriting]

. 1:47am . -  Part Two

DAMAGED GOODS 

Corpse Husband X FemReader

Summary: After accidentally calling Corpse, Y/N and him are trying to not be awkward in a park, so they play 20 questions. Corpse won’t let Y/N forget she ignored his 8ball request (she 100% did) 

Warnings: slight angst if you squint, cursing, mentions of car accidents and guns being pulled

A/N: i literally cant believe anyone read part one, thank you sm for the nice words and stuff :) 

Part 2 of ???? 

PART ONE

3:46am

You were sitting on a park bench with your skateboard next to you. The world around you was quiet, other than the occasional car speeding down the busy road next to the park. You pulled out your phone and checked your notifications, nothing. The last text you got was 10 minutes ago from Corpse saying he was on his way. 

“What the fuck am I doing?” you questioned yourself as you looked down at your board. It’s from junior year of high school. It was a beaten up Black Label skateboard, one that your crush from high school picked out for you. The only time you ever actually used it was when the two of you rode your boards together downtown after school. That was until he then began dating your other friend - then you never touched it again. 

Your gaze never parted from the board until your phone buzzed as your phone screen lit up. A text from Corpse appearing across your screen. 

3:48am

Corpse: here. 

You lifted your head and looked around in the darkness. The park around you is completely empty, the swings standing lifeless as the grim night air creeps around you. A slight chill makes it’s way up your spine and you began thinking to yourself, ‘am I going to be fucking murdered?’ The fear began to sneak upon you, your skin now crawling. Eventually, you heard the sound of a skateboard rolling towards you. Slowly, you’re able to make out the figure on the board as it begins to approach you. 

Tall, slender build, curly hair hid under a beanie, dressed in all black with a pullover hoodie. They effortlessly rode the board until their foot touched the ground, the board now stopped before you. They had a mask on, hiding most of their facial features aside their eyes and up. You were in shock, this is the first time you’ve seen him in person. In fact, you weren’t even sure if Sykkuno ever actually met up with him, despite living in the same city. Your nerves began to creep up more as you studied what features of him were available to view. So far, you declared he has the prettiest set of brown eyes you’ve ever seen. 

“Hey, y/n.” he spoke quietly, his deep voice erupting into the eerie night air. He stepped off his board and sat next to you onto the bench. 

“Hey, Corpse” you responded while giving him a small smile, looking down at your hands and twiddling with them. You were nervous being in his presence. Something about how mysterious he’s always been caused you to feel intimidated. Though, in person, you saw how anxious and awkward he actually was. He wasn’t looking you in the eyes, his hands were stuffed in his pocket and wait- was he shaking? This all made you wonder, why were you so nervous? 

He let out a breathy laugh and turned to face you, studying your features. You felt blush begin to rise to your cheeks. His high pitch laughter was one you had originally only heard through your headphones in-game, hearing it in person was a whole different experience. 

“You nervous?” he questioned you

“Uhh,” you locked eyes to him, you could tell he was smirking underneath his face mask with the way his eyes moved, “yeah actually, really fucking nervous honestly.” 

“Me too,” he chuckled and leaned forward, not making eye contact with you anymore. He rested his arms on his knees, “really fucking nervous.” 

“Why?” you let your eyes rest on his figure, studying his movements as he adjusted his beanie and anxious pulled his sleeves down to cover his hands. 

“It’s the first time I’ve been out of my apartment in fuckin’ days,” he slumped into the bench now while looking off into the nighttime, “Plus I haven’t seen more than half of my friends in person. Uhh, actually all of my friends.” 

“Well, ain’t I special?” you said, confusion festering inside of you. You felt yourself so intrigued by every movement and word that let his mouth. You wanted to watch him and listen to him talk for hours. What the fuck is happening? 

He looked over at you, yet another smirk hiding underneath his mask, “I wanted to ask you in person…”, he adjusted his seating to now face you again, “Why the fuck did you ignore my 8-Ball request?”

You stared deadpan, another laugh escaping you, “No fucking way. I totally fucking responded to that.” 

“No you didn’t,” he quickly responded, “you definitely didn’t.” 

“You brought me in the middle of a park at basically 4am to argue about 8-Ball?” You questioned him, watching his features soften more. A smile grew upon his face, brightening what you could see of his face. 

“Yes, yes I did actually.” You didn’t respond, instead you squinted your eyes and stared at him. “I-uh- I wanted to also, you know, actually talk to you?” He mumbled, “We never actually talk. Plus, you called ME at wee fucking hours in the mornin. Don’t you spin this around on me.” 

“It was an accident!!” You retorted, laughter escaping your lips so easily it felt natural to be sitting and laughing on a bench with him, “I didn’t mean to be weird and randomly call you!” 

He moved slightly close to you, slowly closing some of the space between the two of you, “Well, I was the weird one and asked you to hang out at 3am, so we’re even I guess.” 

You could smell his cologne and aftershave, and fuck it smelled amazing. He continued to mess with the sleeves of his hoodie, pulling them over his hands and tucking them anxiously in his pockets. 

“Okay, okay, my turn. What made you ask me to ‘chill’ in this park?” 

You studied him, awaiting his response. “Same reason you ‘accidentally’ called me,” he said, putting air quotation marks over the word accidentally. 

“Oh?” you jokingly questioned him, “and what’s that?” 

You wondered what he looked like under the mask. You wondered how his hair looks under his beanie. You wondered if he smelled even better under the layers of his hoodie and what appeared to be another sweatshirt underneath. Your mind began to wonder how his voice sounded like when he first woke up, or what he sounded like when he was half asleep. More thoughts began to dance throughout your head as you stared at him, looking at his eyes which showed he was smiling under his mask. 

“I wanted to get to know you better. Ya’know, actually talk and stuff.” He responded, breaking the shared eye contact and looking around you.

“And stuff?” you giggled, watching his nervous reaction. His hands were stuffed in his jacket pocket again.

“I don’t fucking know, what do normal socially inclined people do?” 

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

4:11am

“Okay, how about this,” you spoke into the uncomfortable silence that fell between the two of you after you ran out of small talk. You two were staring at each other, motionless. “20 questions?” 

“20 questions?” he questioned you, narrowing his eyebrows in confusion

“Yeah, why not?” you laughed nervously, something about him made your nerves on high alert, “you start!” 

You positioned yourself to face him on the bench, crossing your legs in front of you and resting your arms on your legs. You gauged his reaction, the look of confusion flooding his face.  

“Uhhhhhh,” he turned to face you, mimicking the way you were sitting -  crossing his legs in front of him on the bench, “uhh- i don’t fucking know, favorite color?” 

“Blue!” you exclaimed, “I’ve always loved darker shades of blue, like turquoise or- well it’s not blue-blue but aquamarine too.” 

“Aquamarine? That’s a fancy color, heh. Guess mine.” 

“Black?” you giggled, looking his outfit up and down, it was about fifty shades of black. 

He laughed his signature high pitched laughter, adjusting his sleeves to again cover his hands, “Correct. How did you guess?”  

“Oh just a hunch, that’s all. It’s your turn.” 

“Uhhh,” he pulled out his phone and began typing rapidly. You stared at his hands, luminated from his phone screen. His chipped black nail polish was uneven on his nails, his rings shining bright against the light. His hands were veiny, you found yourself unable to look away, “I’m ass at these things, so lemme google something.” He began clicking rapidly, “…. Okay okay I’m ready. Got some questions and all” He held his phone up to hide the questions as he stared at them. 

“That’s cheating!” you giggled, reaching for his phone, “you’re a fucking cheater!”

“No, no, no, there are no rules. You did not say any rules. No rules! Ahem- okay.” he cleared his throat, scrolling through the question list, “holy fuck these questions. Ok- okay this one is good. So, ahem,” he put on a fake announcer voice, causing you to giggle even more, “Have you ever been in a car accident — and it was your fault?”

“Well damn,” you laughed, “where the fuck did you find these questions?”

“Hey man, I didn’t write the question. Anyway, you gotta answer it. Spill the beans, hunny” 

“Oh geez, well yes, I have been in a car accident, no I didn’t cause it.” You watched as his face softened, a look of sorrow clouding his dark eyes, “It was when I was in high school. A friend of mine- an old friend- was driving and another car blew a red light. It was a minor accident. No one was hurt or anything, but it fucked with my anxiety for a while. I still hate driving now. So I prefer public transportation.”

“Oh fuck- I’m glad you’re okay- jesus fuck. I’m sorry.”

“Honestly, I was paranoid about any cars. I refused to get in them for about a year, but I’m able to drive now, no worries. Anyway- your turn.” 

“I for one, have never been in a car accident, thankfully. However, I have had a gun pulled on me inside of my car, if that counts.”

“You WHAT?” you interrupted him, leaning closer to him, “ex-fucking-cuse me?” His nonchalant way about talking about that baffled you. 

He giggled, how was he giggling over this? “Yeah it was fucking wild man, straight fucking wild. I lived though.” 

“Okay, my turn. Why the fuck did you have a gun pulled on you?”

“You’re not letting that go, huh?”

“NO.” You shot back at him, “that’s fucking nuts.”

“It happened so fast, I can barely recall most of it. Guy tried to rob me, but I’m too fucking broke and didn’t have anything. Threatened to blow my head off, then fucking left. I still don’t know why the fuck he picked me. Do I even appear to look like I have any sort of value? But I lived, so there’s that.”

“Oh my fucking god.” That’s all you could manage to say, the thought of anything bad happening to him now begins to worry you. You have the strong urge to protect him from all evil, at any costs. 

“Yeah- straight fucking nuts. Anyway, my turn.” He began to scroll through the questions pulled up on his phone, letting out hmms and huuhs? until he finds a question that he deems worth asking, “What embarrasses you the most and/or what’s been your most embarrassing moment?”

“Hmmmm,” you took a moment to ponder the question, there’s a lot of things you’ve done that really embarrass yourself, “Okay so I was on a date with this guy I was really into in college, like I loved this guy before we even went out.”

“Was he cute?” Corpse asked, resting his elbows on his legs and his head on his hands, a pensive stare in his eyes as he peered at you.

“Uhhhh, really fucking cute actually….,” you were lost in his eyes, you couldn’t make out the rest of his face, but you’ve declared him as one of the most attractive people you’ve seen, “... uh anyway, so we were out on a date-”

“I can’t relate.” he interrupted, laughing again. 

“Huh?” you, again, we snapped out of your story. 

“Being on asked dates, can’t relate. I have never been asked on a date.” 

“I don’t believe that. Anyway-”

“O really? I legit have never been asked out on a date,” he let out a breathy laugh, “I’ll let you finish though.” 

“Well this isn’t a good date, anyway we were at the movies on a date and it happens to be the same exact movie theater his ex was at. Same movie, same time, same everything.” 

“Oh no…” Corpse knew exactly where this was headed. 

“Yuuupp, it was a ploy to run into his ex-girlfriend. They ended up getting back together right after that happened. Exact reason I hate the entire Purge series now.” 

“Evil. Straight fucken evil. I’m sorry.” he leaned his hand over to lay it on your leg, “that’s actually fucked.” 

He was touching you. His hand was on your leg, right above your knee. You felt the sensation of touch shoot up from your leg to your stomach. Your heart began pounding a thousand beats a second. Why were you acting this way? Why was your heart racing at an innocent touch to express sorrow? You tried your best to ignore it.  

You shrugged, although it still has taken a major shot to your self esteem, “I mean, it still stings but they have two kids now so, good for them I guess.” 

“At least you’re not spending the money on diapers now,” he laughed, moving his hand away and giving you finger guns, “that shit is outrageous.”  That was the cutest shit you’ve ever seen.

“Okaay, my turn. So have you really never been asked on a date?” You watched his reaction, he quickly rubbed the back of his head again, letting out an anxious laugh. 

“I mean, I’ve been on dates with my ex before and like, two other people, but I was the one to always ask ya’know. I never had anyone take interest in me first. I’m always the initiator. It’s not really that deep though. I actually like not being bothered with relationship shit honestly. Anyway, my turn.” 

Why did that upset you? You felt a ping in your heart. A ping of sadness. What’s wrong with you?

He scrolled through the questions a bit, searching for a good one to ask. 

“Okay, this one isn’t as cringe, what's the luckiest thing that's ever happened to you?”

You thought for a moment, looking at him staring back at you. A smile forming underneath his mask despite the lack of sleep hitting you both. The early morning sky began to form around you two on the park bench, you couldn’t deny it, he was attractive. You couldn’t see his face fully, but his visible features were inviting. You wanted to see what he was hiding on the mask. He had warm eyes, curly mess hair, you imagined he was more attractive than you imagined under the mask. “Well, I’m sitting on a fucking park bench at like 5am with Corpse Husband. Completely unplanned, no sleep at all. Answering questions about our lives in the darkness. Totally random, almost face reveal and all.”

Wait what the fuck - were you just flirting with him? Why are you flirting with him? You couldn’t tell, but he seemed to blush. 

“Oh shut the fuck up,” he laughed leaning over and playfully nudging your arm, “this is after you randomly called me, don’t forget that.”

“IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!” 

“I knew you never actually wanted to talk to me.” 

“Ohmyfuckinggod.” you reached over and snatched the phone from his hand. In the process, you accidentally touched his hands, you felt another surge of butterflies rush through you again. You tried to brush them away and scrolled through the questions, “do you believe in soulmates?” 

Of all questions, you asked that one. You wanted to smack yourself. What were you doing? 

He raised his eyebrows, bringing his hands to his chin, rubbing the front part of his mask. You wondered what he looked like without the mask on again. Thoughts of his skin racing through your mind, “Huh. I don’t honestly. I don’t think anyone is truly meant for anyone. Love is fucking hard, yaknow? Sure you can be attracted and interested in someone. But to actually have a meaningful, fulfilling relationship, it doesn't just happen. You need to actually want it. Want to actually work and build with them. No one is someone’s actual soul mate. Don’t even get me started if someone dies.” 

“Period sis,” you laughed, “I’d like to believe there’s someone for everyone though.” You were a hopeless romantic, it’s showing. 

“My person is the one that probably was murdered or something,” he laughed, looking down at his pant legs, “I kinda gave up on relationships and shit anyway. I’m not really the ideal partner.”

“Why?” you didn’t mean to ask that immediately after he spoke, it slipped out

“It’s my turn, mam.” He laughed, taking his phone back, “ooooh here’s a goodie, when you can’t sleep at night, what keeps you awake?” 

“Everything,” you blurted out, laughing, “fucking everything.” 

“Mood.” 

You paused for a moment, letting go on any filter you’ve had set, tiredness is setting in and you have no control over your words, “I always feel like I’m never really good enough, yaknow? Like I don’t really belong anywhere. I feel like I’m an outsider everywhere. I guess, I guess that’s what keeps me awake at night. Damn that got really fucking emo.” 

He nodded, the two of you not speaking for a good minute. He finally broke the silence, “Yeah, yeah. I actually fully understand that feeling.” 

“My turn,” you didn’t look at the phone this time, “so why did you give up on relationships? Or finding in love, or whatever.” 

Why did you care so much? Why are you asking him this? 

He took a deep breath, letting up a breathy chuckle, “Ah fuck, I-I don’t think I’ve ever talked about this before - like out loud.” He paused for a brief second, you were moments away from telling him it was fine without answering, but he continued on, “I- I don’t really see myself as a good partner honestly. Like, I don’t go outside much. I don’t show myself anywhere - that’s actually unfair to my partners. I can’t see myself being able to fully invest myself into a relationship either, I have so much other shit going on. My life it’s self is a fucking mess, I’m a fucking mess. I don’t deserve that sense of happiness either.” 

“Why’s that?” You questioned him, staring into his eyes. Those big brown eyes shined back.

“I just don’t. I can’t go outside without fucken panicking, without worrying someone will find me. That’s why my ex left me. I couldn’t do anything with her, no, for her. She wanted to go out and do all of these lavish things, but me? I couldn’t. Literally would fucken panic at the thought. Hyperventilate, shake. What the fuck is wrong with me? I wouldn’t want any parts of that either. She got tired of waiting for me to fix myself and left. I can’t blame her, she had every right to. I can’t see myself committing to anything. I’m so accustomed to everyone leaving. I-I can’t put myself through that heartbreak. I don’t want to put myself through heartbreak again. I- I don’t know. I’m scared to get attached. I-” 

You were staring at him, lost in his eyes. Lost in the emotion of his voice as he spoke. Raw, unfiltered, passionate, and real. Every croke as he spoke, every pause, stutter. Your heart was about to break. Who hurt him so badly that they caused him to feel broken? To feel betrayed? To feel so unloveable. You wanted to speak, but you were lost in him confessing his heart to you randomly on a park bench in the center of the city.

“Corpse,” you breathed out, watching the tears begin to well up in his eyes. Wait, he’s about to fucking cry. Holy shit. How do you calm a crying person? Do you even have tissues on you? You’re not prepared for this. 

He turned his head away and cleared his throat, trying to hide his watering eyes, “Fuck I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean-uhhhhhh- fuck- uhhh, ignore me.”

“Corpse,” you again said, reaching over to grab his hand. You made contact with the top of his hand, feeling the top of his rings grace underneath your palm. His skin is soft and warm. How the fuck is his skin so soft? You wrapped your hand around his and you lost control, you squeezed his hand to let him know you were there. You were listening, processing his emotion. You were letting him know you cared. 

“Thank you, y/n.” he looked back over at you, flipping his hand around so your palms are now touching. He intertwined your fingers together. His eyes are watering still, now vulnerable and more alive.

You were holding hands. Your heart began racing, you imagined it would jump out of your chest. He scooted himself directly next to you, your legs touching now. He rested his head on your shoulder, keeping your hands intertwined. His hair smelled like… was that cherry blossoms? His head was heavy on your shoulders, but it never felt so perfectly placed. He let out a deep sigh and you felt the breath on your shoulders. You began to panic inside, but it wasn’t a bad panic. It was a nervous panic. 

“Of course,” you whisper, laying your head on top of his, “damaged goods gotta stick together.”

#corpse x reader #corpse husband #.stories. #notprofessionalwriting #corpse x y/n #corpse fanfic #corpse x you #screams internally

[juniorgman187]

Never Enough (Spencer Reid Drabble)

Summary: Ever wondered what Garcia wrote on that sticky note in the series finale? Read here to find out. When Reader, the new technical analyst, feels out of place at a party, Penelope’s sticky note and Reid’s kind words do just the trick.

A/N: This is a comfort piece for me, someone very introverted who never seems to do well in social gatherings. So this is dedicated to anyone who’s ever felt like they didn’t belong. You are loved. Couple: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Category: Fluff, Drabble Content Warning: Fear of exclusion, loneliness Word Count: 2.4k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

All my life, all I’d ever wanted was to be a social butterfly. Their lives seemed so easy. People would naturally flock to them, what with their charisma, their confidence, their natural gift of being conversational.

I envied them for the sole reason that I was nothing like them, not in the slightest.

It wasn’t easy for me to keep a conversation going, even if I was trying my very hardest, which was often the case. I could never seem to commandeer the room in the way that someone extroverted could, and it was especially hard sometimes to feel a part of everyone.

It would be too easy to say I was invisible. Instead, I felt painfully visible, and entirely ignored.

Everyone could see my shyness peeking through, everyone could see how alienated I’d become, everyone could see my despondence, and yet no one bothered to change it.

No one cared.

My excruciating awkwardness had reached an all-time high at Krystall’s birthday party.

Agent Rossi was so keen on inviting me, and I was honored to go since it’d be my first bonding experience with the team outside of work. I couldn’t turn down the opportunity to grow closer to them, otherwise, I’d run the risk of isolating myself even more. As if being brought in as the BAU’s new technical analyst to replace Penelope Garcia wasn’t enough of a reason for them to doubt, despise, and disrespect me, I was the introvert who had a hard time making friends - unlike my predecessor, who’ve I heard could make friends like nobody’s business. I knew I could never fill her shoes, much less fill the glaring void she created when she left, but still, I maintained my bright-eyes in hopes that I’d be enough for them, anyway. I was all too eager to get to know everyone as more than just my coworkers, with one exception.

Dr. Reid maintained an arm’s length distance from me at all times, and at first, I understood. I even empathized with him.

Besides SSA Morgan and SSA Hotchner, the only other person that he’d work the longest with was Penelope, and now she was gone, too, but the longer his rejection of me lasted, the more I was curious what he truly had against me, and the more I was less interested in changing that. Why would I work tirelessly at mending this broken friendship, if he wasn’t willing to meet me halfway?

I was more shocked that he, of all people, would be the most displeased with my arrival. When Agent Rossi replaced Agent Gideon, from what I heard, the transition wasn’t as rocky as mine. Dr. Reid was overjoyed to be working with him and to discuss all his books. When Jordan Todd, and eventually Ashley Seaver, took Agent Jareau’s place momentarily, he was happy to be working with them. When Alex Blake and Kate Callahan came in after Emily Prentiss, he welcomed them with open arms. So what was it about me that was so abhorrent to him?

I never outright asked, mainly because I feared confrontation and I also had no way of knowing if my curiosity would make the situation worse or better. But I should’ve. I should’ve marched right up to him and asked, “What’s your problem?”

Somehow, though, I finally got up the courage to do so tonight.

I watched as the team laughed at one of Rossi’s anecdotes, meanwhile, the inside jokes flew over my head, hindering that bonding experience I was so sure I’d get by coming here. So I stepped inside the house, wandering into a spare room, knowing I wouldn’t be missed.

I thought I’d only be there for a moment to get some “fresh air” even though I’d actually migrated from the outside to the inside, where there’d arguably be less fresh air, but that’d be my excuse if anyone came in. But I was forced to stay longer in the office when it finally happened.

I finally reached my breaking point.

It was building up all night. It started when I first stepped into the house. My confidence faltered almost immediately when I accidentally stepped on Rossi’s Italian leather dress shoe as I went to greet him. He told me not to worry, but of course, I did just the opposite. It was a minor bump in the road, something so minute, but still, it weighed on me thinking about how embarrassing it was that I dirtied something of his that everyone recognized as valuable.

My shame didn’t stop there. As I was talking with Krystall, there were many periods of awkward silence that I couldn’t manage to fill with words, so we each sipped at our wine until one of us would try to pick up the conversation. What’s worse was that we each knew the silence was suffocating, and I could tell we were both thinking of things to say to keep the conversation going, and yet, nothing worth saying came to mind.

And worst of all was when Penelope Garcia finally arrived at the party. Don’t misunderstand me - it wasn’t the worst part of all because she was bad - no, she was lovely. She gave me a welcome present - a Beanie Baby to put on my desk, evocative of her own style of decor, and I loved her for it, which made me hate her all the more.

Rossi’s house livened up when she came. Everyone flocked to greet her, laughter erupted and ricocheted off Rossi’s high ceilings. They were positively elated by her presence, truly happy. Which was the first time I’d ever seen them that way because frankly, they were never that happy with me.

It was a painful reminder that I could never bring what she brought to the team, and I could never be as good as her. And the general consensus I reached, sitting in Rossi’s office all alone with my glass of wine, was the same one I’d known for years now - I’m not enough.

And I will never be enough.

I hadn’t realized I was crying until a tear cascaded down my cheek, dripping right under my nose, forcing me to audibly sniffle it away. Using the sleeve of my cardigan, I desperately tried to wipe away the tears faster than they were spilling out, but it just wasn’t possible. In fact, the coarse fabric of my cardigan rubbing against my cheeks only made them redder, making the fact that I was unwell that much more obvious.

The sound of the doorknob turning sent me into overdrive, automatically engaging me into turning around and facing the wall so that whoever was coming in wouldn’t find me in the state that I was in. I sniffled a great big sniffle and fanned my face to dry it of any moisture that my silent sobs could’ve left.

“Sorry, Rossi, I was just getting some fresh air and I thought I’d check out your book collectio-”

When I turned around, Rossi wasn’t standing there as I’d assumed.

In fact, the person standing there was the last person I thought it’d be.

“Dr. Reid?”

He was lingering in the doorway, studying my face, to which I instantly preventing from continuing on any further by cowering my head and looking away.

“What are you doing here?” My voice had taken a tone of anger that I didn’t anticipate to be there originally.

“Are you okay?”

To my surprise, his question seemed sincere, but I couldn’t truly believe it was.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just allergies from being outside for so long. The pollen and stuff, you know?” I rambled nervously.

“Oh, really? Are you allergic to the grass?” He asked in a joking manner, knowing I was lying but still asking so that he’d have the satisfaction of getting to see me try and work my way out of the situation.

“Yes, I am actually. The most common outdoor allergy triggers are trees, grass, weed pollen, mold spores, dust mites, cockroaches, and cat, dog, and rodent dander. Don’t you know this? After all, you’re the one with the IQ of 187 here, not me.” I tried to joke to lighten up the room’s heaviness, but clearly, it didn’t work.

By this time, I’d already turned back to face the wall, so Reid surely couldn’t see me, but I heard the door click shut behind me, and a wave of anxiety permeated my soul.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?”

I scoffed at his question, almost hitting him back with an “As if you care.” But I decided against it in an effort to preserve what little repose we had left between us.

“Will you please tell me what’s wrong?” He sounded like he was begging - like he was practically willing to go on his hands and knees to get me to answer, but all I could focus on was the feeling of his hot breath ghosting over my neck.

Goosebumps rose on my skins once he put his warm hand on my cold shoulder, which was bare from the absence of my cardigan and where it had slipped down to my elbow.

I flinched at the sensation, causing him to recoil.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.” He quickly apologized, regret filling his eyes. “Um, you look nice by the way. I like the way you did your hair. A-and your dress. It looks nice.”

Not even giving a chance to respond to his compliment, I asked again, “Why are you here?” Pressing him to get the point faster before I had a chance to react at another one of his physical advances.

“I saw you leave the backyard and I thought I should check on you.”

“Well, you’ve checked on me, so you can go back now.” I didn’t miss a beat when responding, fooling him into thinking that I didn’t catch his words and their intentions.

“I just want to talk.” He replied, finally answering my question from before.

“Okay. Let’s talk.”

He took a seat on a chaise lounge sofa while I stayed standing by the bookcase in preparation for a quick escape if need be.

“I’m sorry I’ve been pushing you away. That wasn’t fair of me.”

Although I hadn’t expected him to apologize, I wasn’t going to be misled and naively accept his apology with no reservations.

“Why did you do it? And for so long?”

“I was angry. I didn’t want another person in my life that I cared about to walk away, so I thought maybe if I made you feel unwelcome, you wouldn’t want to stay. And she’d come back.”

It hurt to say, but at least I knew he was being honest.

“I accept your apology, but it’s not okay.”

“I know that.”

“Okay, are we good now? We’ve talked, so,” My hand gestured toward the door, suggesting he should leave, but he didn’t comply.

“I’m not leaving.”

“And why not?” The wine glass in my hand nearly shattered at the way my hand wrapped around it since its presence hindered me from being able to actually clench my fists.

“I didn’t come here to apologize, even though I should’ve sooner. But I came here because I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Like you care.” I chuckled mirthlessly.

“I do care.”

I gave in, not wanting to fight him any longer, otherwise, I might cry some more from the altercation.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” He shook his head. “I know you’re not fine. What’s really wrong, Y/N?”

I looked away immediately from his gaze, trying to hide the sheen that was inevitably coating my eyes from the presence of tears, but he would’ve known I was crying the minute I used the cuff of my cardigan to wipe under my nose again.

“I just . . . I feel so unconnected,” I whispered, the pain of my words stealing my volume. “I don’t fit in. And I’ve never fit in before, but I actually thought this might be my chance.”

“It still is. Just come back outside.”

“You don’t get it!”

“What don’t I get?”

“I just needed to take a moment to compose myself so I wouldn’t ruin the energy of the room. And I’d really like to do that alone, okay?”

“I know you don’t want me to go.”

“What?”

“You’re testing me to see if I’ll stay.”

“No, I’m not.”

“So you’re saying that if I left right now, you wouldn’t regret letting me walk away?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“I know you’re lying to me.”

“I’m not lying.”

“Yes, you are. I know what it looks like when you lie. Wanna know how I know?”

I entertained his question out of pure frustration “How?”

“Because I pay attention to you. I see your mannerisms. I notice everything. Do you think I haven’t picked up on how you crack your knuckles when you’re nervous? Or how your stutter goes away when you talk about technology? Or how your fists clench, like how you’re doing right now?”

My eyes flickered to my fist that was wrapped so tightly around the glass, my knuckles were white. Out of shame, I loosened my grip.

“I pay attention because I care. And I’m sorry that I made you ever believe that I didn’t. What you do, and say, and think - it’s important. So no, I’m not leaving. I’m staying right here to give you the attention you deserve.” He sighed with a breath of relief. “I care more about you than whatever’s happening out there.”

And slowly, then all at once, that barrier between us broke down.

“I care about you. We all do. And when you’re ready, we can walk back out there together so that you can see for yourself just how much we care.”

. . . That night, I made nine more friends.

And the day we came back to work, with my Beanie Baby in hand, I rearranged my desk.

A folded up sticky note fell out from between two tables. I picked it up, recognizing the handwriting instantly.

Penelope Garcia.

Even when the laughter always seems to come from the other room and the world seems busy as it carries on without you, may you know this to be true. No matter who or what made you feel invisible, unworthy, unloved, or unseen, in this ever-moving world, there is still a place for you. And you are exactly in the place where you are meant to be.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

quote by morgan harper nichols

#spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #fluff #drabble #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid one shot #you are loved #loneliness #love #morgan harper nichols #imagining in the margins #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #quotes

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

A Miraculous TikTok Account

Part 1/57, 97.7k words

Next

I was like “hey brain I’d love to do a shitpost social media au” and then it was like r e w r i t e m i r a c u l o u s

I don’t even know if it really even counts as miraculous anymore so much has changed god damn it --

Rena Rouge had never been so excited for anything in her life.

Of course, at first glance people would find that insane. She was going to a meeting, after all.

But it was the people that were also attending that had her practically vibrating she was so excited.

All the heroes of Paris were to be gathered under Master Fu’s orders. They hardly ever worked together, so having all four (five, including her, she reminded herself) together was pretty much a once-in-a-lifetime event. She wished she was still a reporter, this was the kind of thing she would have killed to report on back in the day…

Still, a part of her had to wonder why exactly they were all there. Master Fu had been vague when he’d called. She had some theories, of course, but all this waiting was starting to shift her excitement into nerves. She attempted to smooth out her tail, but ended up just tucking it under herself to hide her anxiety. Maybe she shouldn’t have come so early.

The first person to show up after her was Carapace. He’d poked his head through the door, the hood of his sleeveless hoodie pulled so low over his face that it partially hid his face. Then he broke into a wide smile and pushed the hood up a little to show the green glint of his mask. He made his way inside and took a seat next to her.

“Salu -- Bonjour!” His confident smile melted into an uncomfortable one. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Salut,” she said, not wanting him to feel awkward.

Besides, that was kind of his whole shtick. Carapace was the relatable hero, the one you could vent about your problems to.

(Well, technically you could vent to all of Paris’s heroes, they didn’t mind… but Carapace was the only one that felt close enough to actually try it with.)

Silence lapsed between them as they sat there. She tried to remember whether she had met him as Rena Rouge or not and he seemed unsure whether she wanted to talk, but they were distracted from their thoughts when Chloe walked into the room.

Chloe just kind of… does that. If Carapace was the personable one, Chloe was the one who felt the most unreachable. She was open about her persona, had to be after everyone found out about it, and exactly how relatable can a mayor’s daughter be? She’d leaned into it, though, opting for golden jewelry and wings that glinted in the light.

Neither of the present heroes said anything to Chloe, and Chloe didn’t acknowledge them.

Was it rude? Technically. But what else were they supposed to do? Chloe had made it clear a week ago that she didn’t like them. There’s no good conversation that can come after you get shit-talked on live tv.

The last person to be on time was Chat Noir. The original hero. He gave them a smile worthy of a model as he slipped inside. “Bonjour.”

“Bonjour,” said Rena and Carapace, and even Chloe gave a quiet hum of acknowledgement.

The leather of his black suit made a high-pitched squeaking sound against the chair when he sat down that made both him and Rena’s hair stand on end (literally).

Master Fu walked in to find Carapace trying to soothe two very frazzled miraculous holders and Chloe ignoring them on her phone.

He sighed and gently rapped his cane on the ground.

Instantly, the room quieted. Chat and Rena snapped out of their shock.

“Bonjour,” chorused everyone.

He smiled tensely. “Bonjour. Where’s Ladybug?”

“Not here yet,” said Chloe. She set her phone down on the table and crossed her arms over her chest. “There’s nothing in the papers, either.”

Master Fu nodded a little bit and took a seat at the head of the table. “We can wait for her. There’s no rush.”

Carapace hesitated before raising his hand. “There’s… a bit of a rush. I was procrastinating a college app and it’s due tonight…”

“It shouldn’t be long,” said Master Fu.

This was true. About five minutes later Ladybug burst into the room, panting softly. “Bon… jour...”

“Thanks for finally showing up,” said Chloe.

No one knew for sure, because Ladybug’s eyes were completely white, but they got the feeling that she was rolling her eyes.

“There was an akuma.”

“Really? There was nothing on the news…” said Rena, genuinely confused, but she trailed off when she realized that maybe getting one of your childhood heroes in trouble was a bad idea if you wanted to have a good relationship with said childhood hero.

Thankfully, Ladybug didn’t seem all that annoyed. “That’s because the news anchor and her crew got swallowed by it before they could get any information out. Anyways, it’s dealt with.”

With that, Ladybug took a seat in the last open chair. There was a beat as she smoothed out the red and black folds of her dress and then she crossed her legs and smiled at everyone.

Master Fu sighed and shook his head, slowly placing his cane in his lap.

“Now that everyone is here, would anyone like to guess why?”

The heroes of Paris stiffened a little bit. That sounded a lot like they were in trouble. They didn’t want to be in trouble.

Rena slowly raised her hand. “Is it… because of what Queen Bee said last week?”

The heroes’ expressions soured a bit at the memory. The video of Chloe trash talking all of them to an interviewer had blown up, and now they could hardly do anything without having at least one reporter hounding them for a response.

None of them could give any, though Rena was sure at least some of them were tempted. The public was supposed to think them all friends, or at worst friendly coworkers. It gave them hope, seeing them all working together for team ups, and analyzing their friendship dynamics kept them relatively distracted from the fact that it had been six years since the first hero had first arrived on the scene and they still had virtually nothing on Hawkmoth.

But now that illusion had been shattered (and trust her, she knew a lot about illusions). Akumas had been more active this week.

“That’s precisely it. Thank you, Rena.” Master Fu regarded them all carefully. “What do you think we should do about it?”

Really, they’d had no clue what to do about their image.

Chloe hadn’t been joking, she’d made that plainly obvious, so saying she didn’t mean it or that was just the type of friendship they had wasn’t going to work…

“Act more like friends…?” Said Ladybug when no one spoke up.

Master Fu nodded.

“Oh, so more team ups or something?” Said Chat.

Carapace shrugged. “Don’t know how much of that I can do, since I’m the only one that can consistently get in the water, but…” He shrugged again. “... sure, I can do that.”

The old man drummed his fingers on the table lightly to bring their attention back to him.

“Yes, that, too, but I was thinking something more… convincing.”

Rena decided that she definitely didn’t like the way his eyes gleamed.

“So, until you manage to defeat Hawkmoth, you will all be living together.”

Everyone opened their mouths to argue but he held up a hand to silence them.

“And you’ll be doing it publicly, posting regular content about it to a social media platform of your choosing…”  He put his hand down. “Now you can complain.”

The teens all immediately started attempting to talk over each other, their voices steadily increasing in volume as they tried to be the one to get their complaints heard.

Rena was silent. Part of her thought that she should be complaining. She had siblings, after all, she had a life outside of heroism… but she couldn’t help but smile. She would be living with her childhood heroes (for a long time, probably, because the Hawkmoth situation was not getting better)! And, really, her sisters could get annoying at times. She’d love an excuse to get away.

So instead of arguing she leaned back in her chair and watched everyone else.

Chloe was the most passionate about it, her jewelry flashing with every wild swing of her hand. Her voice was the loudest, but with the other voices in the room and the fact that she was literally buzzing in her anger it was hard to make out what she was saying.

Chat seemed distressed and Rena could see his mouth saying “I don’t think I’d be allowed to” repeatedly even if she couldn’t hear him over Chloe’s screeching.

Carapace’s face was set in an uncharacteristic frown as he complained. Sure, of those voicing their complaints, he definitely seemed the most relaxed, but the fact that he was frowning was in itself proof of just how upset he really was.

Ladybug was quiet, though she didn’t look particularly happy about it. Her lips were pressed into a thin line as if she was holding herself back from yelling as well and her fingers worried at the hem of her dress.

After a minute of this, Master Fu raised his hands for silence and instantly got it once again.

“Are you done?”

The general consensus was ‘no’, if the looks on their faces meant anything, but they nodded anyways.

“Good. Chat Noir, I’ve already worked everything out with your dad, we’ll discuss it more after the meeting is over.”

Chat relaxed a bit.

“Carapace, your schooling will not be affected. In fact, you’ll likely have a better college experience since all your food and toiletries will be paid for by me.”

Carapace’s expression shifted to a thoughtful one as he considered this.

“Queen Bee, must I remind you of the fact that you’re on thin ice as it is?”

Everyone’s eyes shot to Chloe, who had paled considerably. Her angry buzzing quickly lowered to a dull hum and she settled back into her seat.

Master Fu seemed sated by this, and he looked at Ladybug and Rena.

“And I’m assuming I don’t need to convince either of you?”

Rena shook her head instantly. Ladybug took her time to consider, but eventually shook her head as well.

“Great. Now, shall we talk logistics?”

~~~

Taglist:

@nathleigh @mialuvscats

#a miraculous tiktok account #ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #chat noir #rena rouge #alya cesaire #carapace #nino lahiffe #chloe bourgeois #queen bee #master fu #miraculous fic #ml #rewriting miraculous #i hate myself #apparently #chloenette #chlonette #adrino

[softtransbf]

Mister Nice Guy, part 2

part one

Summary: Shit hits the fan, and the rest of the BAU is done with it.

Word Count: 3523

Reader: he/him trans man, no physical description

Warnings: case involving targeting gay people, brief mention of a child abduction case, coming out/anxiety of experiencing transphobia (no actual transphobia though), alcohol, swearing

@aleccolocco (sorry it took so long to finish lol)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"No, that doesn't make any sense at all, doctor!" you spat his title. "He's not jealous of these couples, killing what he can't have, or a homophobe, punishing gay people for being happy. He's putting an end to their unhappy relationships. He sees it as mercy." Over the months, your cold war with Reid turned into outright conflict, and tonight, alone in the police station in Oregon, was no exception. Hotchner had tasked the two of you with presenting the preliminary profile the next morning, and it was going as well as conversations ever went.

"We have no evidence that he knows they're unhappy, though. All of his victims are clearly happy in their relationships," Reid challenged.

You rolled your eyes and scoffed. "Please. One look at their social media and it's obvious that the relationships are on the rocks."

"Where do you get that? All I see are typical happy relationships. Selfies, checking into special events together, posts about kind things one does for the other. Nothing indicating a troubled relationship to me."

"The gentlemen doth protest too much. They're painting an overly happy painting on social media, hoping that some of that happiness will actually become real. They're desperate for the relationship to work."

"Let's say you're right. I don't think you are, but let's pretend for the sake of trying to see your logic through. Why? Why would they be so desperate to save a failing relationship?"

"God, straight men just don't fucking get it!" You went to grab a file, missing his small flinch. "You don't understand how limited the dating pool for men who are into men is. Look at the most recent couple in particular. The most lovey-dovey on social media, and got the most brutal deaths."

"Yes, because they were the happiest. My theory holds," Reid interrupted.

"No. Look, this guy put way more out there on social media than his partner, and look at the pictures he posted. Look how forced his smile is, look at the body language. He needs this relationship to work, because dating as a gay man is one thing, dating as a gay trans man is almost impossible. Having to start over and deal with transphobia over and over again is worse than being in a bad relationship. In his eyes, I mean." Shit, the first person I come out to on this team cannot be Spencer fucking Reid. He doesn't deserve the honor.

"That was yesterday. We haven't gotten the autopsy report yet. How could you possibly know that he's trans?"

"Testosterone vials and needles in the bathroom. Neither of them are old enough for a cis man to reasonably have issues that require testosterone injections. It's HRT, hormone replacement therapy."

"Even if you're right, your conclusion still seems like a much bigger jump than mine, that the killer sees the relationships as happy and is lashing out at that, be it from jealousy or homophobia."

"Whatever. You'll see tomorrow, when we talk to the M.E., that he was trans, and that fact backs me up. I am absolutely right about this, and you will eat your words. Then I will present my theory, and you can choke on yours."

"We? You anticipate us spending more time together?" He raised an eyebrow.

"I meant 'we' as in the team, asshat. The world doesn't revolve around you. Mine sure as hell doesn't. I'm gonna go back to the hotel, write my own damn preliminary profile, and try to get some fucking sleep. Clearly we won't agree on this."

"We don't ever agree on anything," he pointed out.

"Not true. We agree that we dislike each other and can't get along. Good night, doctor." You turned and walked away, not giving him a chance to respond.

This man is going to be the death of me, he thought as he watched you walk away.

~

The autopsy report came in the next day, and you were right. The tech team also found a locked notes app on his phone that catalogued his unhappiness and fear of leaving. You presented your preliminary profile to the team. Reid didn't even argue; he just sat in silence, leaving the room as soon as you were finished. Never one to pass up a chance to gloat for beating him, you offered to get coffee for the team, got everyone's order, and left shortly behind him.

You were expecting to catch up to him, his impossibly long legs be damned. You weren't expecting him to be waiting for you. He pulled you into an empty interrogation room and pushed you up against a wall, his face just inches from yours. It was only a moment before being flustered by the closeness and those goddamn eyes were replaced by anger.

"What the FUCK, Reid?"

"What game are you playing, Y/N? What game are we playing? What's your endgame?" He spoke quickly and softly, but there was an intensity in his voice that had you captivated.

"I'm the one playing games?" You pushed him back, away from you. "You're the one who decided to hate me before we even met. When I transferred, all I wanted was to do a good job and fit in with the team. But quite literally from the minute I walked through the door, you'd decided you hate me. Turnabout is just fair play, gorgeous." Oh, fuck.

"Gorgeous?" You walked past him to the other side of the room, running a hand through your hair and turning your back on him. "Fine. Yeah, okay? I wanted approval from the brilliant and handsome Doctor Spencer Reid. In a way that's respectful of your heterosexuality, of course." You turned around and faced him again. "But that doesn't matter, because you made it clear you wanted nothing to do with me right off the bat."

"What makes you think I'm straight?" He's fucking with me, now that that cat is out of the bag. Great. Fucking cishet men. Even he's no different. Thank god he still thinks I'm cis.

"Garcia mentioned in her newbie-run-down that you're 'awkward, but in a cute way, especially around women'. Plus, she mentioned that Emily is bi, leaving everyone else implied straight as even the best cishet allies are wont to do. And as we both know, Penelope knows everything.

And before you make the hearsay argument I can see forming in that brilliant head of yours, I've heard and seen too much about your impeccable memory to assume you don't remember when we all went to the bar after my first case. I was unabashedly Queer, friendly flirting with Derek and calling out cishet bullshit. When I did the latter, you literally rolled your eyes and walked away. Which is, funnily enough, some cishet bullshit. 

JJ said you were just going through a thing and things would get better, but they just got worse. I'm not going to ask you to spill whatever was going on, because it's not my business, but god damn, dude. Why did you hate me so much so quickly?"

"You asked JJ about me?" He took a few steps towards you, a small smile on his face.

"That's the part you focused on? Jesus fucking Christ. Yes, I asked her about why you decided to hate me before we even met. Whatever. I hope you got whatever you were looking for by pulling me in here. I'm done. Done with this conversation, done with whatever has been going on with you and us since the day I transferred." You turned to leave, but he grabbed your arm. It was barely more than a light touch, but you let it stop you.

"Y/N. I can't-" he sighed. "God, you make my head spin. I can't organize my thoughts enough to say what I want to. JJ was right, there was something I had to work through, and I guess you'd made up your mind about me before I figured it out. It isn't an excuse for how I treated you, just an explanation. As for the more recent development of arguments… I guess I read a subtext that wasn't there. I could never dislike you, let alone hate you. I am truly sorry for- for all of it." With three long strides, he was out the door.

Make his head spin? What subtext? Since when is he unable to say what's on his mind? And what was that about not disliking me? All we've done since we met is argue or ignore each other. Why else would he act like that? Why do I even care? Why am I so knotted up about what he's thinking and feeling? Whatever. Fuck him, and not in the fun way. I've gotta go get coffee for the team. As you were getting the coffee, you couldn't get the memory of his face, so close to yours, to stop playing in your head.

The rest of the case was mostly as normal, but there was an energy between you and Spencer that was distant like when you joined the team, but there was something else to it that you couldn't quite put your finger on. It made you a little bit sad, though, for reasons you didn't understand.

~

"I love you, Y/N. I love you so much. I pulled away from you because it terrified me how much I loved you from the moment you walked through the door that first day. Being around you, even when we were arguing, made me feel alive in a way I never had before. You're all I think about, you're all I could ever want. I love you."

"I… I love you too." You didn't know which one of you moved, maybe you both did, but in an instant, you were kissing Spencer Reid, and you couldn't have been happier.

-

You woke up with a start, breathing heavily. You looked around; you were in your room, home alone, and it was 3:37 am. What the hell was that?

Four hours later, you trudged through the door of the BAU office, venti red-eye in hand. You made it about ten steps before Derek had his arm around your shoulders.

"Whoa there, hot stuff. Rough night?" You tried to shake him off, but he wouldn't budge, so you just kept walking, making him go with you towards your desk.

"So not your business, Derek. You being open with your personal life doesn't mean we all have to be open like that with ours."

"Personal life, huh? So who is he? More importantly, how was he, and should we expect more mornings like this in the future?" You rolled your eyes and playfully shoved him away. You'd reached your desk, so you sat on top of it, facing him. As you did, you made eye contact with Spencer, who was well within earshot. His face was unreadable, and you weren't sure why him hearing Morgan tease you like that upset you. It never had before.

"No, Derek. There's no one. Just some nightmares. Nothing major; I'll be fine by tomorrow." You got off your desk, sat in your chair, and logged into your laptop. Derek whistled and walked away without another word, shaking his head.

You tried to focus on the paperwork you needed to get done, but you couldn't stop thinking about that dream. The feeling of his lips on yours… it felt so real.

This is ridiculous. Love? We don't even like each other. Well… there was the stuff he was saying yesterday- 'I could never dislike you, let alone hate you', and some sort of subtext? But not disliking someone is a far cry from love. Plus, he's straight, so this is all absurd. And even if he DID have feelings for me, I sure as hell don't return them. I mean, maybe he's not as awful as I've thought, especially if he wasn't coming from a place of dislike. And he really is very pretty. Those eyes… Wait, what the fuck? This is all fucking ridiculous. I just need to get a full night's sleep tomorrow, and all this weirdness will be gone.

You took a giant gulp of your coffee, shook your head, and ran your fingers through your hair. Fortunately, Hotchner called a team meeting, forcing your attention to other things.

While no case could ever be described as 'normal', this case was pretty cut and dry, once you figured out what you were looking for. No dramatic twist, no tense showdown at his arrest. There weren't many cases like that, but you were very glad that this one was. You never sleep well when on a case, and no matter what you did, you couldn't shake that dream, the butterflies it left in your stomach every time you looked at him, and the strange disappointment when, unlike before that moment in Oregon, he wasn't looking at you.

Two more weeks passed. The energy between you and Spencer, whatever force it was that had drawn you together to argue again and again, was gone. You were polite to each other, and cooperated as necessary, but didn't do more than the bare minimum when it came to interacting with each other. Your interactions were cold and low-spirited. So you were so glad for a fun night out with Penelope, Emily, and JJ.

"So, Y/N, things seem… different… between you and Spencer these days. Did something happen?" Emily's tone made it clear that the three of them had intended to bring this up long before the plan to get drinks was even made. "I appreciate y'all waiting until I had a couple of drinks in me at least before going here. I guess we just got tired of fighting? I don't know. I can't figure out what's going on in that brilliant head of his. I thought I at least knew where I stood with him, even though it was purely adversarial, but I think I was wrong. But then that leaves me with no idea what he thinks of me or why I care so damn much."

"Really? No idea at all?" JJ asked. "I remember walking by a closed door in the police station in Oregon and hearing the word 'gorgeous' being thrown around." "Oh my god. You heard that?" You buried your face in your hands, and they all laughed.

"Yeah, I did, but only that one word. I'd figured you were on the phone with someone, but then you and Spence both started acting sad. I wasn't sure, of course, that you were talking to him until just now."

"Fuck. Okay, yeah. I think he's pretty. But I'm absolutely not alone in that. Derek calls him Pretty Boy, for goodness' sake. Appreciating someone's beauty doesn't have to mean anything more."

"Y/N, really? After everything we've been through together, you're gonna lie to us like this? Whatever happened, you've both been miserable since, and it's throwing the whole team off balance."

"What do you want me to say, Penelope? That I'm in love with him? He's pretentious and a know-it-all and a nerd and funny and kind and gorgeous and oh my God. I think I'm in love with him." The three women clapped and cheered.

"Finally, you get there! Took you long enough." Emily winked. "So, what's the plan now?"

"Keep this shit between us until my feelings go away. Even if he wasn't straight, I wouldn't risk fucking things up by telling him how I felt. As it is, I stand no chance in hell, so I'm just gonna write this one off as another straight guy I've fallen for and try to move on."

"Y/N, if you tell him-" Penelope started.

"No. You, more than anyone, know why I can't even entertain the idea of trying to be with him. I can't set myself up for that kind of pain. Not here, not where things are so good." You looked at all three of them. "I know that your intentions were good, but I just can't do this. I'm sorry." You grabbed your coat and left.

Your interactions with Spencer changed yet again. Now that you knew you loved him, you couldn't help yourself from being warmer towards him. As the weeks passed, you got closer. After three weeks, you considered him to be a good friend, not that that made things any less painful. You were just hoping that Penelope, Emily, and JJ were going to respect your wishes and drop the subject of your feelings for him.

[From: Penelope]: round table room ASAP

Shit. The last time you'd gotten that text from Penelope, the team left on a serial child abduction case 30 minutes later. So, despite it being your day off, you ran out the door and were there with your go bag in 15 minutes.

But no one else was there. No files on the table, nothing to indicate that there was a new case. You pulled out your phone to call Penelope, but then you heard a commotion outside the door- you'd closed it behind you.

"No, Derek, wait, I don't-"

"Can it, Pretty Boy, and thank me later." Derek opened the door, pushed Spencer into the room, winked at you, and shut the door, all in about 3 seconds.

"Spencer. Um, hi. Is the rest of the team not going to join us? Garcia's text seemed pretty urgent." You tucked your phone into your pocket.

"I don't think so, since I just heard Morgan barricade the door." He tried to open the door and failed.

"Oh my god they're Parent Trapping us. I'm gonna kill them."

Spencer tilted his head, confused. "Parent Trapping?"

"Oh my god have you not seen any of the Parent Trap movies? Were you living under a rock in 1998?" "I was seventeen and working on my first doctorate, so pretty much, yeah," he laughed. You couldn't help but laugh, too, as you firmly ignored how his smile made you absolutely melt.

"Fair enough. The '61 one is good too, but the '98 Lindsay Lohan one is Iconic for good reason. Anyway. The point is, they've locked us in here and won't let us out until we have a conversation."

"Just a conversation? Or do they want us to talk about something in particular?" He took a seat at the table.

"I- yeah, they have a particular topic in mind. I'm so sorry. This is my fault. I was tipsy and said things I should have just kept to myself. I thought they'd respected my wishes and left well enough alone, but clearly they didn't. And they won't let us out of here until I tell you-" you hesitated.

"Tell me what?" He leaned forward, and part of you swore you saw hope in his beautiful brown eyes. You looked at the floor, avoiding them.

"Tell you that I… have feelings for you. Romantic, cheesy, butterflies-in-my-stomach feelings. I don't know why they want me to tell you this. We've just gotten to a good place as friends, and you're straight, and-"

Somehow you missed the sound of him getting up and taking the few steps over to you, because you practically jumped out of your skin when his hands were suddenly on your shoulders.

"Y/N. Please, darling, look at me?" Bewildered by the endearment, you did, and his smile was blinding. "I'm not straight. I'm bi, and I think part of me has been in love with you since your first day at the BAU. The thing JJ said I was working through? The potential problems of having feelings for a coworker. For you. As soon as you walked through that door", he pointed and then took both your hands in his, "I loved you. The night at the bar? I was rolling my eyes at myself for how much I wanted to kiss you, and I walked away to stop myself from doing something reckless. I love you, Y/N. Can I do something reckless?"

"I'm trans," you blurted. "I hope that doesn't change anything, but it's something you should know. If knowing that I'm trans changes things, now is the time for you to say something. If it's a problem and it blows up later, it might actually kill me. Because I love you, too. So much. If it doesn't change anything, then please, Spencer, kiss me."

The words were barely out of your mouth before his lips were on yours. You weren't sure how long you were kissing before you were interrupted by cheers from the other side of the door. "Shit, Spencer, they're going to be the worst about this, aren't they?" You were a bit embarrassed by how breathy your voice was, but you were too happy to really care.

"Oh yeah. We're not going to get a moment that's just us in this building ever again. Do you want to get it over with and face them, or would you prefer we stay in this moment a bit longer?"

"What do you think, doctor?" you asked, pulling him in for another kiss.

#spencer reid x male reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #otp: pretty boys

[organic-guacamole]

205 SPOILERS (ignore if the points are out of order, I was sobbing so much I couldn't write it down in order😭)

My first thought when the episode started: "what in the horror movie-"

And then that shifted into "aw Seb's animals, Jimmy with social anxiety is my favourite"

Then at some point I'm thinking, "Zackey, with all due respect, shut up"

"Those hips never lie" ok Ms Jenn, there are children present.

Enough of this man's crusty face, lets talk about seblos holding hands in school.

And omg Carlos' locker is adorable.

Where can I get Seb's flannel though, that's the real question.

What is up with the sexual tension in this season-

First redlyn during the blackout and now Rini in the barn? y'all go to horny jail

Seb is adorable.

Gina what did you do-

She's scaring me, what happened that night???

The after the musical video calls we got were so ambiguous too. if they don't address this asap I will scream, it'll be just like them to drop this plot point and then forget about it.

Ricky.

Gina.

RICKY-

GINA-

WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT RICHARD???

YOU'RE NOT DATING, STOP DOING THAT

GINA OMG YEAH GO OFF ON THIS IDIOT BUT STILL IT WAS HYPOTHETICAL CALM DOWN-

Anyways.

Mike Bowen is hot.

I said what I said.

The ok boomer-

I cant-

"I WAS BORN IN THE 70S"

I love Mike

Mike really dressed up for this woman-

I must admit, the writing for the adults is very interesting imo. I genuinely want to see what's going to happen, who's she going to pick?

Mike? aka "her biggest crush in salt lake"

Benjamin? aka "her arsonist partner"

Zackey Roy? aka "her gay ex boyfriend"

*sniff sniff* What's that I smell?

Jealousy, jealousy following Benjamin Mazzara.

Honest Abe who?

I only know honest Seb.

But fr, how adorable is it that he can't lie to the people he loves, so he just keeps his mouth shut so he doesn't say the truth?

Seb is adorable.

how did ash and Biggie make all those pizzas in a few hours-

honestly-

I've said this before and I'll say it again,

Don't: make Kourtney and Howie a thing.

Do: make them both gay and best friends.

YAY EJ!!!

As someone in the hsmtmts discord server said, "Wait Matt Cornett is in this show?"

Round of applause for Gina's dance. Also it seems like we're shipping Gina and Kaden(platinum blond dancer for those who don't know) now....I don't make the rules🤷🏽‍♀️

Alright here's the moment we've literally all been waiting for:

The Seb seranade.

The way Seb was inspired by Carlos all those years ago made me tear up full on sob.

Who made those mean comments? Drop the addy, I just wanna talk.🔪

Me after the song finished: sobbing "CARLOS BABY GET UP THERE AND KISS YOUR BOYFRIEND"

Me when Carlos stood up: "ITS HAPPENING"

Me when Carlos hugged seb: "ROBBED, IVE BEEN ROBBED! IM CALLING THE POLICE THIS ISNT FAIR"

Me when they lean in again: "OK WAIT"

Me and the police officer when they finally kiss: jumping up and down squealing "FINALLY"

I'm a little bit upset someone's head was blocking half of it but still, it's been years so I'm honestly just glad they got to kiss on screen.

Seb is adorable.

So after all that, I was an emotional mess, shaking like a jackhammer and spamming the server, and when Carlos chooses Ms Jenn as his madrina....I FULLY LOST IT.

"I look like the clown from IT" girl I look like that every day and I don't even wear makeup-

The writers of this show really don't like us to be happy for more than 5 seconds huh? the proof is that EJ's only on screen for 5 seconds at a time

They really had all that emotion, just to slap us in the face with reality/Lily and Zackey's faces.

But like, is that allowed in the Menkies? To just steal the musical that another school already registered with?

And why don't they just try harder with the little mermaid instead of trying to sabatoge and take over the one thing east high has???

But I mean, go off ig.

EJ and Mr Mazzara is like, the duo I never expected, but already love so much. I can't tell if they're "bros" or if they have a father-son relationship. Either way, I hope we get a lot more of it.

EJ's so sweet to Gina in this episode but I don't like the way he looked at her near the end.

Like yeah I like portwell, but as friends. Ignoring for now the fact that Gina is 15 and EJ is literally 18, I don't want them to be anything more than friends because rn it just seems like they're the "leftovers" so the writers wanna couple them up and get it over with.

But please, no.

Gina really just said "lemme crush their little hearts even more, right at the end😁"

Honestly, I feel really bad for her. I totally get where she's coming from with everything. I still don't condone the way she's been treating Ashlyn, not at all, but I understand how she may be excusing it in her own mind.

#That may be my longest post to date whoops. #here's the tl:dr if you want #this episode was a rollercoaster #seb is adorable #SEBLOS KISS #Ms Jenn gets around #iykyk #EJ YAY #not much redlyn :/ #rini scares me #MORE EJ YAY #Benjamin needs some peanut butter for his jelly #how about we just start shipping Mike and Benjamin? #Mikezarra #hsmtmts #hsmtmts season 2 #hsmtmts s2 #hsmtmts spoilers #nini salazar roberts #ricky bowen #big red #ej caswell #gina porter #carlos rodriguez #seb mathew smith #ashlyn caswell #kourtney greene #ms jenn #seblos #guac's episode text blocks :)

[lilliagradiewrites]

evermore (jj maybank)

Summary: Y/N is in a depressive state, but refuses to tell her boyfriend. After she walks out on a party, JJ realizes that something is off, and rushes to comfort her.

*based off of the song “evermore” from Taylor Swift’s new album!!

WC: 2.2k

WARNINGS: Mentions of depression/ symptoms of depression, mentions of anxiety & panic attacks, mentions of suicide/ death. (The reader is at a very low point during this. Please proceed with caution of mentions of depression triggers you.)

A/N: Hey my lovelies! I have a new piece for you. This is a one- shot, and is on the shorter side. If you don’t know, Taylor Swift released a new album on the 11th. I have been so obsessed with it, and one of my favorites from the record is the title track “evermore.” I knew i had to write something based off of that song! This is inspired by that song, and I encourage you to listen to it while you read.

Much love to you all, and happy holidays! I hope you enjoy!!

LET’S DO IT!

~~~~~~

The night was cold as you walked quietly down the street, the old cardigan your best friend gave you wrapped tightly around your shoulders. You weren’t dressed for the mid-october weather, your shorts and tank tops providing little warmth on your shivering body. As much as you hated the cold, it felt good to feel something again.

November was approaching quickly, and as you walked down the street that cold october night, you realized that you hadn’t had a true spark of happiness since that July. Of course, there were moments of joy, but it was never consistent, and lasted a day at the most.

You couldn’t seem to pinpoint the exact moment where everything went wrong, no matter how many times you’d tried. Countless times, you’d retraced your footsteps to find the moment your despair began. Unfortunately, this only resulted in distant memories from better times becoming fresh in your mind, pushing you deeper into the dark hole you were trapped in.

For a while, no one noticed a difference. Your group of friends, whom you adored, didn’t bat an eye when you left a party early because you were ‘tired’ or ‘not in the mood’, despite the fact that you loved parties. It hurt a little that they didn’t see a problem, and that only made the problem worse.

The first person to notice was JJ, your loving boyfriend. The blonde boy was the light of your life, but as your own issues began to overtake you, you found yourself pushing him away unintentionally. He would send texts, asking you to come over and see him. He'd invite you to come out to dinner with the pogues at The Wreck. He’d beg for your permission to show up at your house because he missed you so damn much.

Time after time, you replied with perfectly crafted excuses that left him concerned, but with no questions. That’s all you needed to accomplish, really. If he didn’t ask any questions, then you’d be fine.

The routine was working out pretty well for you in the beginning. JJ and the rest of the group would accept your excuses and go along with what you told them, even if they found it slightly suspicious.

But, after a while, your constant absence finally hit them. It was concerning, especially when it came to someone like you. Your parents weren’t strict, so it wasn’t an obedience thing. You loved parties, and were quite social, so it wasn’t a social anxiety thing. They wondered at their hangouts what could be wrong, but none of them could come up with a viable explanation.

Texts from your friends were lighting up your phone at a constant rate, but you trained yourself to ignore them. Your mind had convinced you that all of them hated you, and were only messaging you as a joke, or because they felt bad.

Though your brain tried to tell itself that JJ didn’t love you either, you were fighting hard against that idea. Even the slightest notion of your boyfriend no longer being interested in you broke you down into tears, so you tried to allow the thought to cross your mind as little as possible.

He texted you every day, asking if you were okay and trying to make plans. He texted you good morning, and goodnight, as well as a few other times throughout the day. He was a wonderful boyfriend, and you appreciated him, but you didn’t have the energy to show him the attention he deserved. You texted back for a while, but eventually gave up, leaving him on read almost every single time.

For the last few weeks, JJ had been broken up with worry. He worried that you were mad at him, that you hated him. He worried that you were leaving him. So, he showed up at your house.

As soon as he walked in your room, he could tell that something was incredibly off. You were normally a somewhat neat person, but your room was in complete disarray. Clothes littered the floor, empty plates and half-eaten bags of chips tossed absentmindedly to various locations.

And you. You looked like you hadn’t changed or bathed in weeks. Your hair was messy, and your face looked as if you’d been crying for years.

When you saw his face, your mask slipped on without a second thought.

“JJ! Hi, babes!”

“Hi, angel.” He replied, concern evident in his voice as he spoke. “I haven’t really seen you in forever. Are you okay?”

You nodded immediately, concealing your true feelings. “I’m okay. I’ve been taking up extra shifts at work because I need money for college soon. I’m trying to save up early. I’ve been so busy and exhausted, I just haven’t had the time or energy to see anybody.”

Lie. You got fired from your job a month ago because you called out ‘sick’ too many times.

JJ was still suspicious, but went accepted your story just as he had many times before.

“Alright, babe. I just miss you a lot. Take a break soon. Are you working tonight?”

“No.” You couldn’t bring yourself to lie to him again.

“Well, then, you’re coming to hang out.”

You shook your head quickly, pulling your hands away from his. “No thanks, JJ. I had a late shift last night and I’m exhausted. Plus, I have an early shift tomorrow morning, and I refuse to go in hungover.”

JJ took your hands back into his, meeting your eyes. “You don’t have to stay late, and you don’t have to drink. Just come for a little bit. Like, literally for an hour. We all just miss you so much.”

When he was looking into your eyes like that, you couldn’t help but say yes. Though you knew you’d come to regret it, the smile on his face after you agreed made it all seem worth it at the time.

“Yes! Okay, my love, I have to go deliver some stuff for Pope’s dad. The party starts at ten, so I’ll pick you up at nine-thirty.”

You didn’t say anything, simply nodding to indicate that you’d heard him and understood what he said.

“Bye, baby. I’ll see you tonight. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” It was barely a whisper, but it seemed to be enough for JJ. He gave you one final wave before exiting your bedroom and closing the door in his wake.

When he had gone, your anxiety began to cover you. You had come to hate gatherings and parties, despite the fact that they used to be your main source of happiness and excitement. How were you going to make it through this party?

Sighing, you turned to your bedside table, moving around empty cups to peer at the time on your alarm clock. It was hard to read due to the tears in your eyes blurring your vision slightly. After a moment, you were able to decipher the numbers on the screen. 8:06 PM. You had approximately an hour and half to get ready before your boyfriend would be there to pick you up.

The first half hour, you decided, would be used for praying you were able to make it through this night.

---

About 70 minutes after your boyfriend’s visit, the clock on your bedside table read 9:12 PM. You sat at your vanity, brushing on small amounts of makeup. You didn’t want anything too crazy like you used to do; it just didn’t feel right anymore.

The same thing applied to your outfit. After almost an hour of trying things on, you went for something simple. A sage green tank top, your favorite blue jean shorts, and a basic oversized white cardigan kie had given you. The outfit was basic, but cute nonetheless. You completed the look with your pair of slip-on vans that were so beat up they could barely be classified as white anymore.

Your hair, which you normally would curl or style for parties, had been brushed through and left down. That was all you had the energy for. The party hadn’t even started yet, and you were already exhausted.

At least you had showered. It had been over a week since you last bathed, and this party gave you incentive to take care of yourself. That’s the only thing you were grateful for when it came to this party.

As you finished getting ready, you promised yourself that you would try your best to enjoy the night.

JJ had come to pick you up as he told you he would, at nine-thirty on the dot. He was always careful to be very punctual when it comes to you. He said you looked pretty when you got in his car, and the small compliment warmed your heart significantly.

The party was smaller than your normal ones. The pogues were all there, and they were all happy to finally see you again. You greeted them kindly and took your seat beside JJ, wanting to make the night go by as quickly as possible. You had hardly even arrived and you were already anxious.

As the night went by, your anxiety only got worse. You began to zone out, not paying attention to the conversation. You snapped back to reality when the whole group laughed at some joke someone told, and you just chuckled nervously along, hoping nobody noticed you weren’t being attentive.

A few hours went by, slowly but surely, and you decided that you had to be done for the night. You had been on the brink of a panic attack for the last hour, and it was getting harder to fight it off.

“Alright, guys, I’m tired. I’m probably gonna head home. I’ll see y’all later.” You announced, standing up from your seat. Immediately, JJ stood up with you, leaning into your ear.

“I’m too drunk to drive, babe. Do you think you can wait a little longer for me to sober up?”

You shook your head lightly, pushing him away. “No, it’s ok, babes. I’m just gonna walk. I don’t want to pull you away from the party anyways.”

A look of concern took over the blonde’s face. “I don’t like that. You can’t walk by yourself at night, it’s not safe.”

“I’ll be fine, J.” You assured him. “I live, like, a five minute walk away from here. We’re super close to my house. It’ll be okay.”

JJ continued to insist that you wait, but you insisted on leaving. You reassured him multiple times that you’d be alright, kissed him, grabbed your cardigan and left.

That’s how you ended up in your current position, sobbing into your cardigan sleeve as the night grew colder and colder. You were still walking along the road to your house.

You hadn’t realized how cold it was when you left. Maybe it’s because you;d been sitting up against JJ, his body heat mixing with yours to help keep the both of you warm. Now, you were all alone, with nothing but your thin cardigan to protect you from the chill of october night.

As you walked, and cried, you wondered what it would be like to just stop breathing.

Your thoughts were halted by the sound of footsteps pounding the pavement behind you. Immediately, you tensed up, suddenly scared. Who was running on the streets late at night, besides her? Who had a reason, other than kidnapping or killing someone?

You turned slowly around, and your body relaxed as you realized you recognized the person barreling towards you.

A familiar blonde boy was running in your direction, seemingly desperate to catch up with you. You stopped walking, giving him time to meet you.

“JJ?” You were talking as soon as he was close enough to hear. “What are you doing, babe? You’re supposed to be at the party.”

“I’m walking you home. I’ll go back once I know you’re safe.” He explained. He looked almost triumphant at the fact that he’d caught up with you, but his expression changed to one of concern after he got a good look at your face.

“Y/N… have you been crying?”

You shook your head, almost in instinct, but he saw right through you.

“Yes, you have. Baby, what’s wrong? Did one of us say something? What happened?”

As you looked in his eyes, those beautiful blue orbs as rocky and deep as the ocean, you felt your mask begin to slip.

“I’m not okay, J. I haven’t been for a long time.” Your voice cracked as you spoke, and the tears came almost immediately after you’d finished.

JJ took you into his arms and held you close, and for a moment, the two of you just stood there on the side of the road.

JJ let you sob for a little while, just holding you and murmuring sweet words to you. Eventually, he pulled away and looked directly into your eyes.

“I’m here for you, okay? We’ll get through this, my love. I don’t know exactly what’s going on yet, but we’ll figure it out. Together. I promise. I love you so much, Y/N. So fucking much.”

He pulled you back into his chest, and in that moment, it dawned on you.

This wasn’t the end. This pain wouldn’t last for evermore. It would pass, and JJ would be there with you when it did.

So, for the first time in a while, you finally felt okay.

~~~~

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Reblogs are super helpful and super appreciated. LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH!

Happy holidays! - Lillia

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank fanfiction #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #jj maybank fanfic #outer banks fanfic #jj maybank one shot #jj maybank angst

[little-red-hunk]

Pliability Ch. 3

Pairing: Orange Cassidy/Original Female Character

Summary:  Emily, a nurse and physical therapist for AEW, had barely been on the job before the pandemic hit. With no prior knowledge of how the business works, Emily learns as she goes in a situation that is not normal by any means. A harmless flirt, she makes friends easily with the talent and the crew. However, an actual real growing crush on Orange Cassidy, who seems to be flirting right back, has her in a tizzy and contemplating ideas that she had never really explored before.

Rating: Explicit / language and eventual smut

Word Count: 2,866 (Chapter 3/?)

Notes: I had an anon ask me why I hadn’t posted my fic directly to Tumblr and I didn’t really have an answer.  So now, If you’ve not had a chance to check it out on AO3 for some reason you can do so here!  And if you don’t want to wait for my updates directly to Tumblr, you can go read everything I’ve posted to date here

Previous Chapter 

The following week brought an even more nervous atmosphere. Everyone was exuding extra excitement due to it being the “go home” for Double or Nothing. The excitement skidded to a halt with Emily as she read the tentative card for the show. While it wasn’t a surprise, seeing a Rey Fenix vs Orange Cassidy match listed didn’t please her. Her displeasure doubled when she heard some of the planned details of the match, including a big scuffle with all the ladder match participants at the end. Once she got to the end of the card and saw the outline of the big face-off between Inner Circle and The Elite as a preview for the Stadium Stampede, she was seriously contemplating faking being sick so she could be anywhere except there.

Out of an abundance of caution, Emily was asked to come sit ringside with the other doctors. There was still about two hours before showtime so she did the same thing she always did before the show: eat. A production meeting meant a deserted catering area so she took advantage by sitting down with her horrifyingly unhealthy burger chips and dessert. She sighed dejectedly and started watching old vine compilations on her phone.  A familiar voice cut above the video and she lazily lifted her head to see Adam Page talking to one of the stage hands. Noticing Emily sitting all alone, he grabbed his protein bars and water before dropping down in a chair a few seats down. Bless him for adhering to social distancing.

“That looks incredible and I am full of rage that I can’t eat that right now,” he frowned.

“What? This thick, juicy bacon double cheeseburger? Cooked medium well and seasoned just right? With BBQ sauce and pepper jack cheese and grilled onions?”

“Now that’s just rude. You need to work on your bedside manner.”

Emily sneered. “Pfft. No patients right now. I can act like a bitch if I want.”

“What do ya mean ‘act’?”

“Keep it up and I’ll wax poetic about the decadence of this brownie and ice cream,” she warned.

“Alright, alright I’ll stop. But seriously, you good? I saw you earlier and you looked a little...I dunno, green around the gills.”

Her face softened at his concern. “Oh. Yeah I’m ok. Just a bit on edge for tonight. I saw the match list and some of the spots and I’m just.. I don’t want anyone getting hurt. Last week was stressful enough.”

“Ah. Yeah, your boy Orange got rocked, that’s for damn sure. He said you cleared him though, no concussion.”

Warmth blossomed inside her chest upon hearing that Orange talked about her when she wasn’t around. Emily chose to ignore it as well as the fact that Adam referred to Orange as her boy.  “He was fucking lucky. I really don’t know how he wasn’t hurt worse.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “It happens like that sometimes. The ugliest looking thing could cause nothing more than a headache but then a tiny little move could snap a tendon.”

“That’s what gives me anxiety.”

“What? The potential randomness of an injury?”

“Yes.”

“Well darlin’, you might have picked the wrong place to work...maybe even the wrong field.”

She rolled her eyes. “I love helping people heal. I love working here. I just wish there was a way to insure nobody got seriously injured. Which is impossible I know...I’m just.. I don’t know, talkin’ out loud,” she stated before taking another bite of her burger.

He regarded her for a moment before asking, “You gonna be ringside again?”

She nodded while taking a drink of her Dr. Pepper.

“The whole night or just for your boyfriend’s match?”

That Dr. Pepper decided to come right back out, this time through her nostrils. Emily hastily grabbed a handful of napkins and brought it to her nose, grimacing. A coughing fit started, followed by three rapid-fire sneezes, a whine and then a boisterous belch. Adam never even blinked an eye.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” she said defensively, once she was able to compose herself. “I just don’t want to have to drag him to the med room for the second week in a row.”

Adam finally cracked a smile. “Not your boyfriend, huh? Then tell me, my good nurse, how did you know who I was talking about? I never said a name.”

Emily floundered. “Uh..I.. uh...shut up!”

“Aww look at your cheeks. You’re blushing! I KNEW you were sweet on Jim!”

“Fuck off! Who...Who the fuck says “sweet” anymore? So dumb...what are you, 73?”

He rolled his eyes and opened one of the protein bars. “Whatever. It’s cute.”

She stared him down for a few tense seconds before relenting and sighed, “Is it obvious?”

“Honestly? Not really. You flirt with everyone,” Adam said. Emily made a noise of exasperation but he kept on. “I was taking a shot in the dark. I was thinking maybe...30/70? But now..I mean you just shot soda out of your nose and then I’m pretty sure your whole body rebooted at the mere suggestion...so I’m gonna amend that to 100% ”

Emily pushed her food away, planted her forehead directly onto the table and groaned before sitting back up straight and clearing her throat. “Could you keep it to yourself? Uh...I’m still pretty new here and I don’t need rumors floating around. It’s just a crush. It’ll pass.”

The sincerity in her voice did not go unnoticed. Adam put on his serious face and with a hand over his heart declared “You have my word. Your craving for the D from vitamin C is safe with me.”

She groaned and threw a handful of chips at him. “You should be ashamed of that. Honestly.”

******************************************************

Emily’s mood hadn’t improved by bell time, despite her joking around with Adam. The anxiety within her kept slowly building the longer the night went on. The show was going on without any issues and honestly she sort of wished something, anything would mess up just so the worry would feel justified. Checking her watch, she saw that they were a little past the halfway point of Dynamite which meant it was time for the Orange Cassidy/Rey Fenix match. She could practically feel her blood pressure rising the moment Orange had walked out and Fenix went for a flying kick. Luckily he had stepped back to avoid getting hit but it didn’t ease her worry at all. Sweat trickled down her forehead, the sickening slap of multiple chops echoed in the mostly empty arena and the heat and humidity were overwhelming. She had to get out of there.

“Doc, am I good to take a quick break? I need some A/C and water.”

Dr. Chris nodded. Both he and Dr. Sampson were at ringside. “Will you bring me back a Gatorade? Grape please.”

“Yep,” she chirped while standing up and speed walking toward the backstage area. She zoomed down the hallway towards the medical evaluation room, already pulling her mask off and thinking how sweet that central air would feel. Busting the door open she found the closest vent and stood under it, trying to catch as much air as possible. The room was much cooler than outside but it wasn’t enough. She peeled off her black AEW staff polo and tossed it on the desk, leaving her in a plain black tank. Spotting a small desk fan on a counter, she positioned it to blow right in her face  and decided to recline on one of the exam tables. The cooling sweat on her brow, the deep breaths and the fact that she couldn’t see what was happening in the ring lowered her pulse and she felt less agitated until...

“Emily, what room did you go to?”

It was Dr. Chris over the radio. A profoundly petulant sigh escaped her mouth before she answered. “I’m in med-eval, what’s up?”

“Had some ugly bumps at the end of this match. I’m heading there with Fenix and OC. Stay there and get some ice packs ready.”

Panic was not a strong enough word to describe the feeling that hit her. Her Apple Watch, annoying as it ever was, made sure to inform her that yes, she was most definitely freaking out by beeping loudly due to her increased heart rate. Swearing every swear word she had ever learned, Emily started to get out several different size ice packs and did a quick sterilization of the table she had been laying on. As a precaution, she slipped her mask back on as well as a pair of blue vinyl gloves. The door opened and Doc Sampson came in first with Fenix behind him. He thanked her for getting everything ready and started talking with Fenix and one of the people on staff that could translate. Emily continued to stand there, hands on her hips, waiting for Orange to walk in.

Well, to limp in more like it. Head hanging low, his bare chest red and sweaty, he hobbled slowly inside the room. When Orange finally raised his head, his eyes widened at the sight of her. He smiled and let out a small chuckle before sitting on the exam table on the other side of the room.

“I don’t know what you think is so damn funny,” she hissed, low enough that she didn’t disturb the others.

“Nothin’. Just happy to see you.”

If this were any other situation she might have literally cooed at that. However her concern and aggravation were too strong at the moment. Two deep breaths. In. Out.

“You are so full of shit. What happened?”

“Splash over the top rope to the outside of the ring where everyone was waiting. Got a little too much distance and my leg hit the metal barricade. I’ll be alright,” he explained.

“Yeah, sure. You’re free to go then. But...remind me, Which one of us is a medical professional? Me or you?” He dropped his head and lazily motioned to her. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Now show me where the pain is located. I need to check for bruising.” He waved vaguely around his calf and knee area. “Alright well pull that pant leg up for me.”

“Can’t. Too tight,” he said.

Realization dawned on her that he was going to have to take those jeans off for her to check him over for physical damage. Which wasn’t a big deal. She was a nurse, a professional and she could handle this with no problem. Hell, half the time she’s working and stretching folks who wore teeny tiny trunks and nothing else. This was nothing. Totally innocent. A cake walk.

“If you can’t roll them up, you’re gonna have to lose ‘em. Thems the rules,” she said, forcing her voice to remain even.

Orange stood up slowly to slide the jeans off but then remembered he still had his shoes on. When he reached down to take one off, Emily noticed the slight tremor and the tiniest hitch of his breathing. Whichever way he had just positioned himself obviously hurt but of course he just kept on like it was fine. Not on her watch.

“Nope. Sit back up here,” she demanded, grabbing his hands away from his legs, straightening up his posture. He started to protest. “Ah! You better hush. I know it hurts. So sit down and be quiet.”

He actually did as he was told and a bit of her uneasiness melted away. Trying to remain as formal as possible, she quickly undid his shoes and slipped them off. He stood up again and slid his jeans down past his knees before sitting back on the table and gingerly working them off completely. Emily was surprised to see that under those jeans was just a pair of black Under Armour long johns. And even though the same amount of his skin was covered as before, being able to see the actual..definition under that tight fabric seemed so forbidden . A large bead of sweat falling from somewhere around her collarbone down into her cleavage reminded her that she had taken her polo off and was also in a position where more of her was on display than usual. Grabbing at the center of the top hem of her cami, she used the fabric to wipe the sweat away. The movement caught Orange’s attention and she did not miss the way his eyes darted back and forth between her face and her chest before looking down at the ground. A hot flash followed over here again if you asked her, gun to her head, if it was the actual room temperature or the  current situation making her sweat she honestly couldn’t tell you. All she knew is that her dumb animal brain wanted to see him seeing her. Staring at her. Wanting her. She pushed all of those absolutely inappropriate thoughts away. She was a professional, goddamn it and would not let any level of school girl crush bullshit interfere with his level of care.

“Do you need help pushing this up?” She asked, taking a seat on one of the rolling stools, pointing to his lower legs. He nodded and she began to carefully stretch the material out and up. In the back of her mind she registered that she had actually never seen his legs before but pushed past it. “Tell me exactly where you feel the discomfort coming from,” she said while gingerly holding his leg by the calf.

Grabbing her left hand, Orange opted to show rather than tell and placed it on the bothersome spot. Despite the thin layer of vinyl on her hand she felt the heat from the contact and couldn’t help focusing on his obviously strong hand, still flushed red from his earlier exertion. More unseemly thoughts fired around in her head but she again quieted them. She leaned down to examine the area closely for any visible trauma, of which there was none. So she began to slowly poke and prod around, listening carefully to his response.

“Hold on a second, this will help,” she said, spinning her stool around to the nearby cabinets and rummaging. She spun back around waving a tube of BioFreeze gel. “Are you allergic to camphor or menthol?”

Orange shook his head no, so she proceeded to put the cool gel on her gloved fingers and rub it into the painful area. “I am almost addicted to this stuff,” she said, desperate to make casual conversation while massaging his legs. “I use it like twice a week.”

“For your patients?”

“Nah. For myself. Got some persistent back issues,” she answered. “Physical therapy can only do so much. And I don’t have regular access to a massage therapist because of work and well...covid.”

“Why not just have someone here do it?”

She shook her head and she continued to work the gel outwards just in case the soreness decided to spread. She could feel the muscles in his calf and thigh twitching with every pressured pass of her thumbs. “They aren’t here for me. We are here for all of you. Plus like...a 3rd of time I’m one doing the massaging.”

“I could do it.”

She paused her movements for a split second while the imaginary scenario played itself out in her mind quite quickly. She would be laying face down on her hotel bed while he straddled the back of her thighs, shirtless, rubbing and working deep circles into her bare skin with Zero 7 playing softly in the background and sweet scented cherry almond candles burned on the desk. While her libido was screaming “Yes, oh my god, yes! Come to my room TONIGHT”,  the only outward reaction she had was a sort of non-committal hum as she continued pressing her fingers into his skin.

She gently let go of his leg, tossed her gel covered gloves in the garbage and pulled the leg of his long Johns back down. She gave his knee a very soft double pat. “Alright. You’re all good. I don’t see any visual evidence of bruising, but it’s only been a few minutes. Just keep an eye on it. Take this with you in case you’re still sore tomorrow. Let me know if you run out.”

“Thanks,” Orange said as he cautiously stretched his leg out, moving it in tiny circles to test how it felt. “The BioFreeze made it feel better already.” He lazily slid on his shoes opting to just carry his joggers in his hand. He stood up abruptly, leaving Emily no time to scoot back on her rolling stool. Her masked covered face was just a few scant  inches from the flushed red skin of his very toned torso. Her whole body throbbed at the mere idea of running her tongue across his abs and she had to spin herself around to get him out of her line of sight. She stood up and took a deep breath before facing him again. He nodded at her before heading to the door.  But he paused, turned back to Emily, very obviously shot her elevator eyes and  said “Offer still stands” before leaving the room.

#orange cassidy #orange cassidy fanfiction #orange cassidy smut #orange cassidy fic #orange cassidy fan fiction #orange cassidy fan fic #little red hunk #my fic #fic: pliability #wrestling fanfiction #wrestling fan fic #wrestling fan fiction #wrestling fic #aew fic #aew fanfiction #aew fanfic #aew fan fiction #aew fan fic #orange cassidy imagine #orange cassidy imagines

[quirklessidiot]

Title: coward :: pretty girl Pairing: Y/N x Miya Atsumu Genre: angst, romance, and very slow burn [ex to lovers au] Warnings: Cursing, alchohol, mentions of unprotected sex, unplanned pregnancy, and mentions of abortion

Synopsis: : In which you finally meet the perfect girlfriend of Miya Atsumu and he starts to slowly accept the fact that whatever happened between you two is long gone (or is it?)

authors note: 

here to give my thanks again, literally feels so surreal with how much love this story is getting despite the angst sjjsdjsjd i-

also ive released the prologue for my first ever smau! its a more lighthearted one compared to this one between sakusa and an older gn!reader, if you’re into that check it out here uwu

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You’ve never actually seen Miya Atsumu and his girlfriend.

This was your first time today during Sugawara’s house party, Daiki had forced you to go and insisted that the three of them needed to have their manly bonding time (it actually only consisted of stuffing themselves with junk food and watching shounen animes), “...Also don’t you want to bond out with your ex-boyfriend that you chose over me? I’m hurt, I didn't know you like fake blonde volleyball players.” he fake-sniffled, in which you replied with an arched brow.

You didn’t know how he ended up knowing about Atsumu, you were expecting a talk from him but he simply shrugs it off and says, “No matter how much I tell you that you should tell him, you won’t listen. So I won’t bother wasting my breath, just know that you’re being selfish by denying these boys the right to have a father and you're denying that blonde shrimp to be a dad too.” 

“Y/N-san, I’m surprised you came!” Sugawara grins.

“Daiki took charge of the kids.” You replied, fiddling with the keys in your hand.

“He looks very reliable.” the teacher exclaims, handing you a drink in which you completely deny because you weren’t very good with alcohol, “You guys would make a great couple!”

“Oh,” You voiced, you were very familiar with those words, many people had always thought you and Daiki would make a good pair. It was definitely a shock to many when they found out you were pregnant and that the basketball player was not the father despite being there most of the times, “I’ve never seen him that way.”

“He did mention that, he even openly confessed to Miya-san that he’s jealous of how he was your first boyfriend.”

You choked on your saliva, that fucking sly bastard-

“Anyways, make yourself comfortable! I have to go say hi to my old friends from college!” he exclaims, patting your shoulder. You immediately turn around to find Miya Atsumu cozying up with a beautiful girl in his arms.

Ah, that must’ve been the beautiful model with legs for days.

“You’re kind of staring.” comes a very familiar voice.

You want to roll your eyes but you decided against it, “I didn’t know you and Sugawara-san were close, Inunaki-san.” you greeted your annoying senior.

“Suga-san’s a friend to the whole team…” he grins, “Also, I’m just here to warn you that Osamu might be here later, he’s not as nice as Atsumu towards you.”

“You don’t have to remind me.” 

“Come to think of it,” Shion Inunaki paused, tapping his chin in deep thought, “Atsumu still follows you around like a lost puppy. He’s been spending his off days with you instead of his girlfriend. I’m actually surprised he even brought her here today.”

“What are you implying?” You reply, feigning ignorance.

“Ah, L/N-san. I love how you still don’t care about my kohai’s feelings up till now.” He grinned, sarcasm oozing out of his sentence.

“Don’t be silly.” You glazed,“What feelings would there be but hatred?”

“It’s anything but that, L/N-san.” he turns to you, hand on his hip, “Even I don’t get why he’s so into you after all this time and the shit you put him through. He’s got someone better in front of him. Physical looks and emotionally speaking, Ri-chan’s a whole lot better than you… No offense…”

You knew he was rubbing salt to the injury but you couldn’t really bring yourself to argue with him, after all, he was right at the most part (you technically considered yourself as the big bad villainous ex in Atsumu’s life) 

“You sound like those girls who used to threaten me back then when I was dating Miya-san.” You replied coolly, Inunaki even notices the amusement dripping in your tone, it's as if he hadn’t insulted you right at the face and called you a lesser being, “It’s almost pathetic.”

You ended up on the balcony right after, so much for trying to socialize, who were you kidding? It’s good you manage to escape the scene before Osamu could see you there, you couldn’t handle Inunaki and the grey-haired twin together. Thank god that Aran wasn’t around the area.

“Figured you’d be here.”

You turn to find the one and only source of all your problems these days, Miya Atsumu, you narrow your eyes in annoyance, “You should leave, people will get the wrong idea.” You simply replied, “I’m not in the mood to be in the middle of that.”

“I just came here because I wanted to apologize about that night with your brat.” the blonde casually leans against the doorway, “It was my fault for riling him up.”

“Yuuto has a temper, he’s more of his otosan than me.” 

“What was he like?”

“Who?”

“The bastard that you miss, those brats father…”

You tilt your head and press your lips together, surprised by his choice of words, “Special.” you openly-confessed as you gaze at the very man in front of you. Oh, the irony of it all. 

How you wish it was that easy to let go of all your fears and anxiety, if you had told him six years ago about your pregnancy, would your life probably be different? What if you told him now? How would he feel?

“He’s lucky,” he admits, gaze fixed on you, “I mean - other than the part that he died  - he was a lucky guy, Y/N.”

It dawned upon you that moment that this had been the first conversation you had with your ex that held no hatred, malice, or anger. He seemed to be slowly accepting the fact that you wanted to do nothing with him. Like you, he had no choice but to move on.

“ ‘Tsumu! What the fuck you moping around alone for up there? You got a girlfriend here!” Osamu calls down from below. You both snap back to reality at his brother's voice, “Guess that’s my cue to leave, I’ll see you around, Y/N.” he uttered softly and as he turned away, you suddenly spoke out.

“I’m sorry.” He freezes in place, somehow this apology seemed different than the rest, “I know I’ve said that a lot these past few weeks and that night but I want you to know that every apology was genuine. I just, I’m not very-”

“I know.” He suddenly turns to you, the very familiar and warm grin that you're accustomed to decorates his features and you feel like its that night in fall and you're back in college again, “I guess I was so wrapped up in wanting to get an emotion out of you that I hadn’t  realized, it’s not you if you did that. You always had trouble expressing yourself naturally to people after all.”

You feel your insides clamp and your lips tremble lightly, you feel the air turn heavy around you. How is that he was always the one pulling the strings and doing all the work between you two? How could he forgive you this easily?

“Don’t be silly.What feelings would there be but hatred?”

“It’s anything but that, L/N-san.” 

“I’m proud that you’re trying hard for your kids though,” He chuckles, “Those brats are lucky they get to see all sides of you everyday.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight.” you muttered, watching his figure walk away and vanish in the dark, leaving you all alone in the night of spring.

“...I now pronounce you husband and wife…”

You stare at your father and his new wife looking at each other with complete love and adoration, something you never saw when you were growing up. It sickened you to the point that you turn slightly pale and feel the bile on your throat rise. You watch them exit the church as sakura petals fall, the idea of a picture perfect wedding and happily ever after like the fairytale books you used to scorn when you were a child.

You loathed it.

He even had the audacity to invite you and your mother. She ended up not going and was probably drowning herself in cheap saki at home.

You sat at the back during the reception, along with the people who were not exactly ‘close’ to the bride-groom. You feel like an utter fool, why were you even here? You should’ve gone home or attended that stupid party and get stupid drunk with people you barely knew like your mother.

Yeah, that’s right.

You’d rather be there than here.

“Ah,” you hear a glass clink, you saw one of your dad’s friends stand up, ready to make a speech, “First off, I’d like to congratulate my friend. Finally!” laughter resonates throughout the room but you don’t follow suit, instead, you hold onto the wine glass tightly as if you don’t like where this was going, “I know how unhappy you were back then but ever since you met Yui-chan, your life seemed to have become better. I could never be more proud!”

You could feel yourself getting sicker by the moment, especially after you heard the words you dreaded to hear the most, “Let’s not make anymore mistakes shall we?” he jokes.

All you could see was red right after, grabbing your clutch on the table as you made a haste exit. Was this the reason he invited you? To shove it on your face that you were a mistake made?

That you shouldn't have been born?

You ended up breaking a heel and tripping on your own feet soon after, shakily, you adjust your posture and sat at the concrete for a few moments, trying to gather yourself but desperately failing, "I didn't… I didn't ask to be born too, you know?" You murmured to yourself bitterly.

You let it all out, it shouldn't have hurt to be called a mistake. You were an adult already for crying out loud! Yet when they toss that word around like it was nothing especially at that wedding, you feel like you're eight years old again and you're hearing your own mother curse at you for being born into this world, the harsh words she said were as clear as the day, "if you probably hadn't been born, we would've been happier. We'd have better lives, Y/N. So don't go around and cry and think you got it bad, you hear me? Your sadness is nothing compared to ours. It's nothing, Y/N. So stop being ungrateful."

You ended up at the frat house that night, people would occasionally glance at your disheveled state but you just downed the alcohol, ignoring their stares as usual  and when you get a text from your mother asking why you left the wedding so early in such a manner, you feel the pent-up emotions bubbling within you again. 

Blocking her number and taking one last swig of the cheap vodka in your hands, you head up to one of the rooms upstairs. You hold it all in well, you don't want to showcase such things to strangers.You feel the alcohol and emotion about to hit you when you open a door that you thought would be your safe space for the next ten minutes but you're immediately greeted by two people on the bed, ready to hit it off and have a good time.

"O-Oh sorry… I-Wrong room...” you stammered, lips quivering and small tears escaping since you couldn't hold it in anymore.You immediately bolted out the door, So much for sobering up and crying by yourself for ten minutes, you might as well call Daiki, maybe he was available-

“Hey! Y/N!” a very familiar and a very unexpected voice calls out your name on the quiet street.

You hesitantly turn only to find your project partner and classmate standing there, a bit out of breath as if he had just squeezed through the very crowded party in a hurry, you're confused by his actions. You weren’t exactly close? What was he doing?

“Hey.” he softly says, taking out a handkerchief from his pocket to hand it to you. You hesitantly look at it and take it from his grasp as you try to get rid of the runny mascara. You're taken aback by his kind actions so far, although he had always been nice and tried to make conversations with you, you weren’t exactly very participative and it had always been one-sided on his part. 

When he suddenly stopped talking to you recently, you didn’t bother to initiate anymore because you didn’t want to get more involved with people like him.  It’s not like he was a bad person, per say, he just had such a loud presence that made everyone stop and stare. You weren’t exactly a big fan of those kinds of people (save for daiki since you grew up with him)

“Come on, Y/N.” the blonde sighs, taking off his jacket to place it on you, “Let's take you home.”

"You don't have to."

"You look like shit, Y/N. I’m not takin' no for an answer" Atsumu points out forwardly, "Actually, before we head home lets disinfect that wound, yeah?"

"Miya-san, I-" you tried to tell him you were fine but he didn’t seem to be having it.

"Atsumu." He corrects, despite his forwardness and brash attitude, you know he means well, "You let me call you by your first name so please don't call me Miya-san, sounds fuckin weird coming from ya."

You're thankful that he doesn't pry or ask questions about why you looked like this. He just mumbles throughout your whole journey that you shouldn't wear heels when you can't even walk on them.You also start to notice the slight accent from his tone when he got annoyed by your insistence that you were alright, you had always thought that he was a city boy with the way he carried himself.

When you arrive at the drugstore, he pays for the necessities himself despite you protesting again and even buys you a sugar-free treat on top of that, "You said you were diabetic one time." He shrugs off as he lets you sit on the concrete steps.

“Oh,” You faltered, “You remembered.”

“It’s one of the few things you said. You don’t talk to me that much so it's not hard to remember the things you say.”

“Sorry.” You tried to apologize, brows furrowed in deep thought and the only reply you got was a gleeful laughter from the blonde setter.

“You don’t really mean that do you?” he observed but he didn't look insulted by it at all, instead he seemed amused by it, “Don’t sweat it, Y/N. My twin told me I could be an annoying shit at times.”

“No,” you mused, “Not at all, you’re not annoying.”

Atsumu stares at you right in the eye, his corners crinkling just a bit as the amused smile never leaves his features, you’re starting to like it when you see him smile that way, it reminded you a lot of the youth you craved for, the problematic-free youth that you wanted and wished, “Is it safe to say that you don’t mind my company?” he guessed.

“Well, you’re here now and I haven’t left you.” 

He doesn’t reply,  instead he bends down to your level and takes the antiseptic and band-aids from your hands. Before you could object, the setter dabs it on your wound and as you seethe quietly in pain, he blows on it. You’re getting more and more perplexed by his actions tonight especially with the words he says next, “I may not be close with you to know what happened tonight but I hope I made you feel a little bit better, Y/N.” 

The next time you see the professional volleyball player is at work,You’re tasked to send out some documents to your boss again and it just so happens they’re wrapping up the shoot for the advertisement at the studio.

Something’s different now. 

After your little talk with him at the terrace, the air around you doesn’t feel tight, your anxiety around him seems to decrease, and your feet doesn’t get cold anymore. Of course, Inunaki would throw in a jab or insult but you took it like a good sport and didn’t bother with him.

“Ah, L/N-san! How are the boys?” Hinata jumps up and down excitedly as he sees you enter the studio, you still couldn’t get used to this big (small) bundle of energy.

“They’re doing fine, Hinata-san.” 

“Oho, L/N-san, you’re looking better these days.” Inunaki teased, you gave him a brief nod and just ignored the jab, Atsumu slaps his seniors back in retaliation, “You’re not the one she broke up with Inu-san.” he joked, “Hey L/N-san.”

“Miya-san.” You greeted.

“Does Yuuto still want to skewer me like a kebab?”

“He feels sad that he wasn’t able to say sorry to you before you left.” You replied, a hint of amusement laced on your tone as you recalled Yuuto frowning on the dinner table the night before because Sugawara had informed the club members that Hinata and Atsumu wouldn’t be visiting as much because training was about to start.

“Shame, wanted to see that brat say sorry too.” He let out a grin, your conversation is cut short though when a new presence joins the room.

“Oh, Riku-chan!” Inunaki calls out.

You lick your dry lips as you see the very beautiful and tall raven-haired woman approach you, wow, Miya Atsumu outdid himself with this one. You recalled her being on Vogue magazine once and on tv a few times as a fashion model of an underwear brand.

“Oh, hey babe.” Atsumu greets, you note how stiff he became. He probably thought this would be an uncomfortable situation. The woman, unlike you, was very open with her affection. She gave him a brief kiss on his jaw.

Hinata greets her and you’re left wondering if you should excuse yourself before you could make Atsumu more uncomfortable by your presence but Inunaki, being an asshole, decides to make the choice for you, “L/N-san, this is Miyazaki Riku! I’m sure you know her, she’s a supermodel!” he introduces you to her.

“Good day.” You greet the model.

She tilts her head slightly, “Have we met before? You look very familiar.”

“She was my kohai back in Uni and Atsumu’s classmate!” Inunaki grins, patting your back, you hold back a glare since you didn’t want to make it more awkward than it was.

“Oh?” she chirped, immediately letting go of Atsumu’s hand, she grabbed onto yours, “What was he like? I bet he was so cool and chic back then too!”

Chic and Cool?

Memories of a rather clumsy and corny Miya Atsumu in college slowly wormed its way to your head and out of nowhere, you burst into a low chuckle. Inunaki was startled by the sudden reaction and Atsumu feels his insides mush up when he hears that very rare sound, “Yeah,” you croaked, shortly after recovering from your small laugh, “Definitely chic and cool.”

“That’s so cool! I definitely want to hear stories about you back in college, baby!”

“Maybe some other time,” you voice is back to its smooth and cool tone, realizing that you needed to leave from this uncomfortable conversation and start your job, “I have to finish up my work here and get home early.”

“That’s a shame, I could definitely tell you guys were close.” a frown tugs her lips as she notices how quick you were to say goodbye to her, “Bye, L/N-san!”

After that rather dry and one-sided enthusiastic conversation, you finish your work quickly and Daiki messages you just in time that he and the boys would pick you up, you say your goodbyes to your director, the staff, and the volleyball team. You don’t notice the lingering gaze of Atsumu as you left nor do you notice Inunaki telling him that he’s got his girlfriend right in front of him and he shouldn’t look your way.

They shortly wrap up right after and they’re ready to go home. After deciding that they’d all grab a good meal together (much to sakusa’s dismay), Atsumu feels his mood lighten up as they exit the studio to see you standing there along with Yuuto, unwrapping his onigiri. As he’s about to call the brat to talk to him and even drop in to say hi to you, he sees a familiar tall figure emerge from the convenience store with Youta in his arms.

The blonde decides against it.

“...You always had trouble expressing yourself naturally to people after all.”

He watches the interaction from afar and notes how easy it was for the man to interact with you, he even catches on an amused smirk from you as the man tries to tell you a joke, “Is that L/N-san?” he hears Riku ask, “I didn’t know she had a family, that’s so cute!”

Atsumu doesn’t really know what to say as he watches the domestic scene unfold in front of him, he was trying to move on, wasn’t he? Yet why can’t he look away? 

“Baby? You alright there? You’ve been staring at the empty space for a while.” Riku calls out, sounding a bit worried as she snaps him out of his daze. You were already gone, probably far off with that scrub and the brats.

“I’m good.” he tried to affirm himself, wishing it was true, “I’m good.”

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@fortheloveofiwaizumi ;  @svtbitch  ; @kiyoomile ; @lovedanii ; @juno-multifandom ; @gyubit17 ; @saeranoppa ; @nixxona ; @kyomihann @shorttstackk ; @intoomuchfandoms ; @yammmers ; @mx-minxx @itsmattsunshinehere ; @missingmystogan ; @volleybloop ; @imcravingyou ; @yams-wants-that-booty ; @liathachcapricious ; @pinknugget @seikamuzu ; @marigoldthoughts ; @sillykittt ; @baejinoffcl ; @alluring-akaashi ; @bnhasstuff ; @jungshookmeup ; @intheawks ; @bokuakadaily ; @agaassi​ ; @yams046​  ; @dope-squish​ ; @chrisrue15​ ; @vermillionwaves​ ; 

@misosamu  @Etherynaw  @ryaaaax @differentballooncollection @keniloveshaikyuu @allysasteaparty  [hi, i can’t seem to tag u guys, i think you need to open your tags uwu]

#haikyuu imagines #haikyu!! fanfics #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu angst #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu imagine #miya atsumu scenarios #miya atsumu fanfiction #atsumu x reader #atsumu imagines #miya atsumu

[oscar-lettjohanssonloveme]

A Woman Like You pt. 3 (Diane Sherman x socialphobist!reader)

as i promised, there is chapter 3 whoohoo

request: need another part to a woman like you 😌

warnings: social anxiety i guess

here is pt two: https://littlejeaniehugsbumblebees.tumblr.com/post/640358893165363200/a-woman-like-you-pt-2-diane-sherman-x-reader

google translate- :’)

To say Y / N hadn't socialized in college would have been a lie. There were 1 or 2 students with whom she got along well.

One of them was Wylan Montgomery.

Wylan was a tall, slender man with sandy hair. Y / N couldn't tell if she thought he was pretty with his pale skin, but what she did know was, that she didn't find him attractive. But she liked him. Wylan didn't speak much as he was also more of an introvert and lived in his own world. Often Y / N and Wylan studied together in the library, checked each other's homework or discussed books. Nothing special, actually, but there was one thing that Y / N really appreciated about her friendship with Wylan: the weekly chess game.

Y / N loved chess. It was a strategy game, that wasn't about communication with the opponent at all. A game, that could be played in complete silence and the only important thing was concentration.

Wylan and Y / N had a tradition of meeting in the library every Thursday afternoon to play chess together.

Their game could take hours and it was not uncommon for Wylan and Y / N to be the last in the library by the end of the evening.

And when Y / N and Wylan were sitting in the library in the back corner by the window on this rainy Thursday and had been playing for an hour, Y / N couldn't have imagined how this afternoon would end.

"Damn it," Wylan muttered quietly as he stared strained at the chess board. Y / N, who was just as focused as he was studying the board, lifted her eyes to meet the blond boy in the face.

His green eyes literally jumped over the board as he nervously chewed his lower lip, as he always did when they were playing.

It was Wylan's turn and he'd been sitting there for 3 minutes without having done anything. Just like Y / N, he considered every step he took, not just in chess, but in real life as well.

Y / N looked back at the chess board and let her eyes wander over the black wooden figures she was playing with today.

She heard Wylan exhale loudly as he reached out to put his white pawn on E4.

How predictable, thought Y / N. She leaned forward to take the time to consider her next move. Wylan was a good player, but transparent as he often used the same strategy and the game was also relatively early on.

"Mister Montgomery?" Suddenly called a female voice that made Y / N flinch. Both students immediately raised their heads to look at the woman, who owned the voice. Professor Sherman came running out from behind a bookcase.

"I've been looking for you for 20 minutes .. Your roommate told me you were probably here," she explained with relief when she recognized Wylan at the table.

"Professor Wright sent me, he's been waiting for you for an hour."

Y/N looked confused away from Diane, who was ignoring her, to look at Wylan's face. The blond man seemed just as confused as she was when suddenly his eyes widened and he let out a quiet "fuck".

"Do you know where he's waiting for me?" He asked, turning to Diane, who shrugged.

"His office, I assume."

"Uhm okay, thank you".

Wylan stood up and gave Y / N a pleading look.

"M'sorry," he muttered.

"It's okay," Y / N replied and looked back at the chess board.

"I also have a lot to do."

He smiled wryly before turning and jogging out of the library.

Y / N looked back at the chessboard and started packing up while trying to ignore the fact, that Diane was still relatively lost across the table.

"Do you really still have a lot to do?", The professor suddenly asked and Y / N immediately raised her head to look at her confused.

"Excuse me?"

"If you want, I'll play with you-"

With narrowed eyes, Y / N looked into Diane's face and watched the professor chew on her lower lip.

"Is that pity?" Y / N asked skeptically and Diane quickly shook her head.

"Oh no," she said. "It was just an idea."

"Well, I've already started cleaning up, I-"

"So far you have only taken the rook off the field, it was on B5", Diane interrupted her and looked at the rook in Y / N's hand.

"But the game has already started", Y / N tried to get rid of her professor. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't because Y / N didn't want to, on the contrary, she would have loved to play with her. But Diane was a stranger and to Y / N all strangers were her enemies.

In her mind she ran through all sorts of scenarios of how it would all work out.

Y / N's hand would probably tremble so much when placing the figures that she would knock over the other ones.

Maybe she was sneezing or something like that, maybe she would accidentally touch Diane. Maybe Diane was the kind of person, who talked a lot while playing and stared hard at Y / N while concentrating. On the other hand, chess was a game, that required a lot of concentration and nobody could blame Y / N if she kept silent while playing. And even though Y / N was afraid, that she might breathe too loudly, she knew, that she would regret it, if she would reject Diane.

"All right," Y / N finally uttered with a sigh and immediately regretted it. Damn it.

Diane smiled at Y / N's words before taking a seat across from Y / N at the table.

"Great," she muttered and Y / N put the black rook back on B5.

And then they started playing.

The next 3 hours were filled with a pleasant silence and concentration, for which Y / N was very grateful. So Diane wasn't the kind of person who talked a lot while playing. And that nobody spoke was not at all uncomfortable. Even so, Y / N tried to imagine that Wylan was sitting across from her and not her literature professor. But it was impossible; Diane's fingers were much slimmer than Wylan's. Then there was the cinnamon scent of her perfume, which replaced Wylan's aftershave, and at last there were the reddish-brown hair tips that slid onto the chessboard every time the professor leaned over to grab the figures.

Y / N didn't even look at the clock during the entire time and didn't even notice that the whole game lasted 3 hours. She hadn't noticed either, that it was already dark when she finally put Diane in check and she muttered:

"check

For the first time since they started playing, Y / N carefully raised her eyes to Diane to take in the expression on her face.

The woman frowned at the game board while her chin rested on her palm. Y / N noticed, that she was wearing the dark blue cardigan, as she often did in her seminars, and for whatever reason, Y / N liked this cardigan.

"Shit," said Diane finally, leaning back in her chair.

"You actually won."

"Well then, checkmate", Y / N muttered before reaching for her bishop to knock over the white king.

Meanwhile, the professor's brown eyes were still running over the field to analyze the entire game again.

"It's crazy," she finally said, leaning forward again to lean over the board.

"I've never met someone, who plays as subtly as you do."

Y / N lifted her gaze from the king to look straight into Diane's eyes.

Bad idea. Eye contact was disgusting and Y / N immediately blushed before glancing quickly at the lamp on the table.

"To be honest, I assumed you would win," she explained, staring into the bright light. Diane must have turned it on when it got dark.

"Why did you think, I would win?" Diane asked confused and Y / N could feel her gaze on her.

"I don't know," she replied and shrugged her shoulders.

"I played black-"

"Oh come on, you can't be serious"

"It was just a premonition, one of us had to win anyway and I just assumed you would be the one," Y / N tried desperately to justify herself before looking back at Diane, who was slightly confused and shook his head with a smile.

"You're weird," she muttered and Y / N felt a small sting in her chest. She hated it, when she was called that. As a social phobist, her greatest fear was, that people would perceive her that way. All she wanted was to be seen as normal, not as a weirdo.

For a few seconds she involuntarily lost herself in Diane's brown eyes and in these seconds her head was completely free of all anxious thoughts. To be honest, there was nothing left in her head. She could just stare. Diane finally cleared her throat and Y / N immediately averted her gaze in shame.

"I should go now, it's late and I have to go home," explained Diane as she got up.

"I have to go too," said Y / N quickly as she started clearing the board.

"Uhm, thank you, Miss Y / L / N," Diane said sincerely and smiled gently.

"It was great fun."

Y / N only nodded briefly and continued to collect the pieces from the board while listening to Professor Sherman's footsteps moving further and further away.

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

It's like that with social phobia (at least for me): When I meet people and I'm very nervous in this situation qnd the meeting can be as relaxed as possible, but in the end only the things that stick in my memories is that, that were not perfect . Please don't get me wrong, shortly afterwards I am always very relieved, because all of my bad fears (like that I'm breathing too loudly) have not come true, but the more I think about this situation and how well everything went, I notice that it was still not perfect. There are little things that bother me: a confused look, a long moment of silence, the fear, of having laughed too loudly or the fact, that I accidentally touched the person I met while running.

I just want to do everything right and in no case overreact or do too much. And these little things that I mentioned above make me feel, that what I've done was too much and I decide to do less next time. Saying less, laughing less, just less.

And in the end, I really only have the things, that bothered me and after a while that's all I can remember.

That's why Y / N could only remember the moment, when Diane called her "weird". It was actually nothing, but Y / N feared nothing more, than the judgment of strangers and Diane's testimony hadn't really helped her, on the contrary, Y/N hated her literature professor now and had decided to skip the next seminar with the excuse, that she was sick.

And somehow she felt sick too. Y / N was of the opinion, that no one could understand her better than herself. She knew exactly what she had experienced. She knew, why she was the way she was and just the thought of talking to someone about it, made her tired. And when Diane called her weird, she realized again, that people can't help but judge. Advantages and clichés change our view of things so much and Y / N knows that, because she was not better.

To make matters worse, she had had to stare into her professor's eyes for a few seconds too long. Diane had to hate her, even though she'd said thank you for the game at the end. But as I said, over time that faded and the only thing that Y / N left of the afternoon was the moment, Diane called her weird and the brown color of her eyes, in which Y / N had lost itself a little too long.

Those were the things that were "too much".  And at night Y / N lay with her head buried in the pillow, repeating this mantra in her head, which she always said to herself, when she had spent the day outside of her comfort zone:

"I hate people. I hate people. I hate people."

Sometimes Y / N's comfort zone was only the radius of her bed and then she hated getting up early. There was also her annoying roommate Andrea, who often dragged strangers into her room during the day and Y / N hated people. However, Andrea was also one of those people, who preferred to spend their nights in strange beds rather than their own, which is why Y / N was often alone at night.

It was Monday afternoon and Y / N had been in bed all day reading some stupid book. Probably no one had noticed, that she was missing from Diane's seminar today, she was practically invisible.

And when there was a knock on the door that afternoon, Y / N assumed, that it was Andrea who had forgotten her key again.

Y / N was wearing leggings and sweather and still she felt naked when she climbed out of bed to open the door, which was because she wasn't made up. When she opened the door of her room and saw who was standing there, she wanted to slam the door again.

"P-professor Sherman," she stuttered awkwardly, staring into Diane's slightly smiling face.

"What are you doing here?"

"I, uh, I just wanted to see if everything is okay with you," replied Diane with crossed arms. Y / N frowned.

"Do you visit all of your students, who are sick to see if they are okay?"

"I uh- No".

Diane shook her head.

"May I come in?"

Y / N's eyes widened slightly.

"That's not a good idea," she said quickly.

"It'll only take a moment, so please."

Y / N took a second to think about it. She hated Diane, this woman had destroyed Y / N's comfort zone and didn't have to do much to get it. Y / N was so emotional and so vulnerable that a little "weird" was enough to make her insecure.

"Okay," she finally said, nodding before turning to let the woman in.

Now she noticed, how chaotic the whole room was and she was immediately ashamed when she pushed Andrea's shirt aside with her foot, before she sat on the edge of her bed. Diane had closed the door behind her and crossed the room to take the chair at Y / N's desk, which was next to the bed.

"So, how are you?" Asked Diane, sounding a little uninterested, if Y / N could tell.

"I'm okay."

Y / N shrugged.

"I'll be honest," Diane began, staring lost at the chess board, that was on Y /N's desk.

"When I found out today, that you called in sick, I was initially concerned, that it was because of our chess game."

Y / N's eyes narrowed. Damn it.

"Why should I call in sick about it? It was nothing," she lied and Diane nodded quickly.

"I know," she muttered, pensively lifting a black pawn off the board to turn it between her fingers.

"That was, to be honest, the best chess game I've ever played with anyone."

Y / N snorted and shook her head.

"Then it seems like, you've never played with good players, I'm actually really bad," she said with a wry smile.

"It doesn't really matter," muttered Diane.

"I was just afraid, you'd called in sick, because you might find it strange to play chess with me, as your professor."

"And you thought the situation would improve, if you just visit me, as your student, in my room?", Y / N replied confused and Diane just shrugged her shoulders.

"I guess- Uhm, it would be nice if you go now", Y / N explained and got up, because she wanted to go to the door to open it, but when she made the first step, Diane suddenly grabbed her wrist and Y / N immediately whirled around to face her. She stared into Diane's eyes, which looked up at her with concern.

"Are you depressed?" She asked quietly and Y / N decided to hate her even more. Diane found her weird at first and now depressed. Then there was her tight grip on Y / N's wrist, Y / N hated body contact.

"What the hell, no," she hissed and pulled her arm free from Diane's grip. With quick steps she ran to the door to open it again.

"I think you should really go now, I don't want anyone to see me in the dorm with you."

Diane stared at Y / N for a few seconds, before finally getting up and walking to the door as well.

"I'm sorry, that I bothered you," she muttered without looking at Y / N.

"Get well soon, Miss Y / L / N."

With that she stepped out of the room and Y / N immediately locked the door behind her when she felt tears sting her eyes.

I hate people.

#diane sherman x reader #diane sherman #diane sherman imagine #sarah paulson x reader #sarah paulson imagine

[greenbriar-j]

Muscle Memory, full wip, unedited 4.7k, scroll at ur own risk; tagging some people who showed previous interest @halleiswriting @chazzawrites @pe-ersona @druidx and also @pens-swords-stuff this is what I’ve been up to lately

Saint Joseph’s Catholic Church bustles with activity. It’s peculiar, for it being a weekday. More peculiar still that the bustling is being done by young men and women who could very well be engaging in… more satisfying summer indulgences.

The Youth Group’s power couple sweeps in an hour late, ever put together even when, by all rights, they ought to be melting right out of their fancy outfits. Cheers rise from the crowd when they appear, each splitting off in their own directions to their own stations.

Y Nhi beelines for the painters, flicking her sleek ponytail to make sure it’s out of the way. The girls hand her a brush while detailing what’s left to be done. Vinny bustles for the sound technicians - who, really, are already done for the day, but are staying for the social factor.

Two things to note about St. Joseph’s power couple:

Y Nhi isn’t sure she believes in God very much anymore.

They are not a couple, but it’s easier to let everyone think so than to correct it.

“Jude,” Mary says (everyone calls her Jude because she and Vinny made a big deal of it years ago), “Are you sure you can’t help out during the week?”

Y Nhi shrugs. She’s not busy or anything, but it feels wrong to shepherd children into a religion she’s falling out of - even if Vacation Bible School had been one of her favorite summer memories for her entire life. That’s where she met Vinny, after all.

Vinny, laughing with the guys at the sound booth. To be more accurate, Vinny himself is only smirking, but that’s as close to a laugh as he gets around here. Stupid smirk. Stupid boy.

“I have work. Unfortunately,” Y Nhi mutters, dragging her brush across a cardboard cutout. “Vinny’s taking the week off, so I’m picking up his slack.”

Mary grins widely at that. “I swear it’s like you’re married.”

For whatever reason, Y Nhi’s heart clenches at that. Picturing herself and Vinny in wedding attire on the altar sickens her, but putting a faceless someone in her place makes her feel worse. But it’s not like she likes him. She’s sworn to herself that she’d become a cat lady in her old age - her army has already begun with a fluffy black kitten. It’s not looking too good for her future; Toothless likes Vinny more than her. She’s already failed as a parent.

Belatedly, Y Nhi realizes she’s supposed to be engaging in a conversation, not thinking about Vinny and their co-parenting of a cat. If it can be called that.

“Don’t hold your breath. The wedding is a long way off,” she says tightly. Like. Never. Never is a long, long way off.

“I wouldn’t be too sure.”

This time, Y Nhi lets the comment slide. She paints while singing under her breath, as she always does. A long time ago, she had no qualms about belting it out, but time has weathered away her volume, reducing it to only this. No one’s noticed the change or found it strange.

The conversation turns to something - anything - else. Degrees, internships, other boys who don’t dress in all black and aren’t named Vincent Truong. Y Nhi listens, but doesn’t contribute.

By the time the call goes out for a lunch break, Y Nhi is finishing three tasks at once. One of the other girls brings her a burger, slathered with ketchup and mayo and tomatoes. Y Nhi thanks her and continues wrapping one of the white pillars in cardboard paper to simulate a palm tree.

Not long after, someone nudges her. Eyes flickering upward, she’s met with the bored eyes of her very best friend. “Bite.”

She doesn’t, not yet.

Vinny wiggles the burger he’s holding in front of her mouth. “Only half a slice of cheese. No tomatoes. Freshest patty of the batch. Eat.”

She still doesn’t take the bait, even though he’s tailored this burger to her weirdly specific tastes.

Vinny sighs. “Jude. No one’s watching you. I promise all they can see is my back.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” It’s true she had a complex about eating in public for a while, for reasons she’s never told anyone including him. “Just not hungry.”

“Not very Gucci of you to lie in the house of God.”

“Not very Gucci of you to breathe.”

“Jude! The fuck, man.” But he’s grinning. Not the half-assed grin he gives everyone else, but an honest, mirthful grin reserved for Toothless and Y Nhi only (usually Toothless. Damn cat).“Just eat this, okay? I’ll eat the other one.” His whole demeanor softens as he picks up the burger she had ignored - the one that is surely cold by now.

She is hungry. After all, the reason they were late is because Vinny had to coax her to every step of getting ready this morning. He even applied her eyeliner with the even strokes of a practiced hand - so practiced that even Y Nhi admits it looks like her own work. If she had a choice, she would waste away in bed for the day, but Vinny has never been much of a fan of that plan.

According to her own plan, Y Nhi had been wasting away since before yesterday’s dinner. Famished might be a better word to describe her present state.

But today is one of those days that she feels guilty cementing the married couple narrative any more than it needs to be. They’re not getting any younger, Vinny and Y Nhi, and just because she’s sworn off marriage doesn’t mean he has. How’s he supposed to get a nice girlfriend if she keeps hanging around?

Objectively, it’s a stupid reason to risk passing out in a church of all places, but something about him just makes her stupid. Always has.

The longer she ignores his peace offering, the twitcher he gets. He finishes his own burger in ten massive bites. When Y Nhi still doesn’t eat hers, he eats that whole thing too. “We’re leaving early. Say an hour? Think about what you want to eat.”

With that, he’s gone. Y Nhi is not hyper aware of his presence as it moves through the open space. She does not miss having him next to her. Not even a little.

-

Y Nhi writes, appetite??? in her journal when she gets home. It’s the third time something of this nature has appeared on its list which isn’t titled - but if it was it would be something like “Things About Vinny T. that Don’t Make Sense.”

Even after inhaling two burgers, he took her out for pho and Thai tea, and he ate so slow that his noodles expanded in the broth. Still, he finished a medium bowl with relative ease, and Y Nhi was content after she’d finished a small.

How does someone who eats like that look like that? It has to be some sort of stupid freaky metabolism. Genetic polymorphism, she thinks, then adds that she might be incorrectly using the term she’d heard in class about two semesters ago.

She writes freeloading on the list. It’s not technically true, but he spends enough time at her place to make it feel like it. Right this minute, he’s setting up the living room to sleep in, awaiting her delivery of the overnight bag he always leaves stocked in her apartment for emergencies.

That goes on the list too. Definition of ‘emergency.’

According to recent months, an alarming amount of things fit under this category of Vinny’s mind. It might be nearing time to stage an intervention, but who’s Y Nhi to tell him to relax when she’s the one bordering on anxiety attacks all the time? Only god knows how many times he’s clutched her shaking hands until they stopped.

Y Nhi closes the journal. Snaps the band over the cover. Shoves it under her pillow. Vinny wouldn’t dare read it to begin with, but for some reason, she doesn’t even want him to know of its existence.

Quickly divesting herself of the impeccable outfit she’d worn for the day, she slips easily into one of Vinny’s large, large shirts and the shorts she affectionately calls game day shorts. Ever since high school, she’s worn them for events that require equal amounts of comfort and courage - or just for comfort, to be honest.

“Hey, loser,” she greets Vinny, emerging from her room. He’s got her guitar in hand, and is humming some tune that she recognizes but can’t place. “Your stuff is on my bed. Have you seen Toothless?”

He nods, and keeps playing. It’s in experience, being stared at with such intense eyes while trying not to stare at the other party’s stupid pretty hands playing her guitar. Fuck him, honestly, she thinks angrily.

Leaving him there, she pours each of them a glass of water in the kitchen. A shadow looms on top of the fridge, and she jumps. “Toothless, baby. Please stop napping on the fridge.”

Toothless is not napping. He stands up, shakes his tiny body and hops to the counter, then to the floor, twining around Y Nhi’s feet before scuttling off.

Vinny is singing now. It’s a new song, she supposes, and it sounds like a love song.

Slowly, Y Nhi moves around the kitchen, making as little noise as possible while doing absolutely nothing. She just wants to listen to Vinny and his new love song without him watching her reaction.

Once she gets past the lyrics about gentle touches and midnight escapades, she realizes something. Re-entering the living room, she deposits his water on the table. “Is that my melody? Why would you steal it?”

The guitar is placed awkwardly on the floor, the neck of it leaning on the couch. “Oh, is that where it’s from? Thought it was familiar,” he says with mild disinterest. “Well, I wasn’t that attached to it anyway.”

“Are you saying it sucks?” Y Nhi settles on the floor on the other side of the table, pulling her knees into her chest. Glancing through her lashes, Y Nhi watches Vinny’s expressions.

“I’m saying I’m not taking your work, you brat.” Then he hesitates. “I mean. Can I, just for one person?”

“What the fuck.”

Vinny twitches, finally. “I… Wrote the song for someone… So I’d like to sing it for her, just once.”

Something vile rises in her throat, and she wishes Toothless would notice her distress. Hugging the cat might make her feel a little better about the fact that Vinny’s written a song about a girl using her melody - and it’s not about herself and for some odd reason, that bothers her.

“Can- Can I hear it?” Y Nhi asks in a tiny voice. It’s easier than No, you cannot take my song to sing to some other girl who will take you away from me.

“Haven’t you been hearing it?”

“Vincent.” Because that’s easier than You colossal idiot, what shit are you pulling after two years?

“Jude-”

She stands suddenly, fleeing to her room. Shutting the door, locking it, she tries to breathe. Of all people, Vinny should be the last person to push her to this reaction. She doesn’t know what to think.

Vinny knows.

Vinny knows where her hard limits are. Technically, he hasn’t passed them. But he’s pretty damn close.

Y Nhi slips into the shower, leaving it on the hottest setting to boil the emotions out.

-

For the next two days, Y Nhi doesn’t emerge from her room. Her phone dies, and she lets it. Her body self-destructs in hunger and dehydration from crying, and she lets it. She stays in bed for most of it. Whether Vinny continues to sleep on the other side of the wall for those nights, she doesn’t know. Nor care.

It’s punishment for believing she might be ready to give love another chance.

-

The third day, a letter slips under her door.

She almost flushes it down the toilet without reading it. Everything is in position to do so, paper fluttering in unsteady hands above the toilet bowl. But she wants to know. What can Vinny possibly say for himself?

Jude. I wrote the song for you. I didn’t mean to steal your tune - honest to god, I didn’t. But when I found out, I thought it was fitting that we’d worked on it together. (“Together”)

Jude, the song is up to your interpretation, but it’s yours. I wrote it from my core, and it’s yours. Charge your fucking phone and check the lyrics I sent you.

Take a shower, and call me when you’re ready. You have a few days’ worth of takeout in the fridge. Please take care of your health; I know you’re not right now. I mean it in the best way.

It cuts off there. Unceremonious and blunt, and so very him. She hates it very much.

Y Nhi charges her phone while she showers. Working quickly because she’s so unsteady on her feet, she does the bare minimum before stumbling into the kitchen for food.

While she nibbles on the stir fried noodles he left, she pens her own note.

Vinny,

I will not read the lyrics. I don’t want to know, and you don’t have to pretend it’s about me.

Your joke took two years to reach completion. Congratulations. I hope I was amusing and that my downfall wall be the stunning conclusion you wanted.

She tapes it on her front door so he’ll see it the next time he comes over. Soon, probably.

Momentarily, she wonders if she’s being rash. Is it so impossible to think that he could find romantic attraction to her?

Then she remembers. Y Nhi is not built to be loved, if her history is anything to go by. Even if she’s wrong, even if Vinny loves her for real, she will resist. Losing him this way is better than the alternative: watching him dissolve to some monstrosity while loving her.

-

Nothing changes after that. Apart from Vinny’s absence from her apartment, they interact in exactly the same way.

Vinny says something borderline rude.

Y Nhi retorts with something blatantly rude.

They laugh about it and move along.

There are no gentle touches to avoid because Vinny rarely touched her to begin with - despite the way he slings his arm around everyone else, he wasn’t like that with her. No arm around her shoulder, no hugs, not even extended contact with her hair.

Y Nhi pretends not to notice when he goes through a full dinner with an arm draped over the back of his friend Justin’s chair. He leans on it, adding the tiniest space between himself and Y Nhi. He still passes her the condiments and spices she likes before she asks for them. He takes her home at the end of it.

This should be enough. Up until now, it always had been. These tiny acts were his long distance hugs. It had always been enough, but now it isn’t, and Y Nhi doesn’t know what to do.

Isn’t this what you wanted? For him to get a life away from you?

“How’s that girl?” She asks on the way home, just because the silence is killing her and perhaps because she’s a masochist. “The one you wrote the song for?”

Vinny looks at her for a brief moment, something like grief in his eyes. It’s a confusing expression. “She hasn’t really talked to me since.”

Y Nhi tries not to sit straighter at this revelation. “Oh, really? Hm. That sucks.”

“Yeah.”

Something about the word is profoundly heartbroken. She can almost feel the emotions hurtling off him in waves, but he doesn’t lash out at her. All it does is enclose each passenger of the car in a separate bubble. This is the closest they’ve been in a long time, but Y Nhi has never felt so isolated.

Her throat constricts, and her hands start to shake. “Do you… Know why?”

Vinny thinks for a moment, tapping his fingers on the wheel. “I think she doesn’t believe me. But I don’t really think it’s me, I think she thinks that love is meant for everyone except herself. She’s pretty bent on self-destruction now, as far as I can tell - No, don’t say anything yet.”

Every girl Vinny’s talked to in the last week pops up in her mind. Which of them seems most self-destructive? If she can’t keep herself by his side, he should at least have someone who can care for him. She could talk to them, probably, if she knew who it was.

“I… She thinks this is sudden, but I’ve been in love with her since I was fifteen. Or something. Like it kind of just happened over time, and I thought she knew.”

Fifteen means Vinny’s been futilely in love with someone else while she fell for the guy who ended up cheating on her.

They were happy in high school. It was college that broke them. Distance. The communications became less frequent in an inverse relationship to Y Nhi’s alcohol intake. Her grades suffered, and she convinced herself that she was too stupid for higher education. On his birthday, she drove for hours to his dorm to surprise him, only to find him making out with another girl. Sober.

Not that any level of inebriation could excuse him, but perhaps it would’ve hurt a little less.

Vinny isn’t done. “I fucking cut fruit for her every time we hung out. I did her dishes sometimes. I don’t know, I- I thought I did everything right. My mom thought I was doing everything right.”

“You tell your mom about your love life?”

Y Nhi doesn’t. Her parents don’t care enough to know anything about it beyond that she let go of a future doctor and that she’ll never find another because she’s past her prime. That’s what it feels like, anyway.

She’s literally twenty four. She has time.

“Not really. But they’ve met.” Vinny parks the car in front of her apartment, but he makes no move to get out or to let Y Nhi get out. “Jude, listen to me.”

“I’m listening,” she says. Training her eyes on her kitchen window, she thinks about the dishes she hasn’t done yet, the fruit she hasn’t cut yet, and how she hates thinking about it because it reminds her Vinny is fading.

Human adaptability is a remarkable thing. One more week, and this new normalcy will cement itself.

“The girl I love is you. Okay? I’ve walked around the topic for years, and I understand if you’re still not ready for it. But I know you’re getting the wrong idea in that head of yours. It’s you, and it’s always been you, and I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it if you let me. I’ll also bow out forever if that’s what you need from me. But I need you to talk to me. I-”

Holy shit, is he about to cry? With wild eyes, she glances at him. If she’s made him cry, he’ll return the favor five-fold. No, she backtracks. That’s not Vinny. That’s the behavior of her second ex, the one that reduced her to a stiff puppet of a girl.

“Come back to me,” he says in a small, strangled voice. “I don’t even care if you break me in the process, but please come back to me. You can do whatever you want, as long as you do it by my side.”

For the longest moment, they say nothing. Then Y Nhi opens the car door. “Can you cut my strawberries for me? They taste better when you cut them.”

-

Vinny washes her dishes and her strawberries and quarters the already small fruit for her. He deposits the snacks in front of her and watches her eat - slowly, since they’ve just come back from dinner, after all.

“So it’s me?”

“Always has been.”

“And you never said anything.”

“I did. You ignored it on purpose.”

“No, I’m just a stupid hoe.”

“You’re not stupid. Or a hoe.”

“You’re always calling me stupid.”

“Not like that, stupid.”

“You’re going to have to undo a lot of damage if we date.”

“I know. I’ve been working on it already, didn’t you notice?”

“Yeah, but it’s gonna get worse if we date.”

“Have you considered therapy?”

“Vinny, I’ll be a pariah.”

“A happy one, maybe.” Hesitantly, he reaches for one of her hands. Halfway, he flips the palm up and waits for her to complete the gesture on her own. “You don’t have to decide right away. It’s just a thought.”

She puts her hand in his a little too eagerly, then pulls back a little too harshly. It feels like touching the flame of a candle.

A defeated look momentarily crosses Vinny’s eyes, but Y Nhi barely has the time to look at it before she steels her nerves and takes hold of his hand again. The coldness of his rings grounds her somehow. “We need a list,” Y Nhi says, “of things. First, you’re going to Google touch starvation.”

Her best friend jerks in a little victorious motion, jamming his knee unceremoniously on the table leg as he does. “Fuck, that hurt.”

“What was that about?”

“I wasn’t sure if you were actually touch starved or if you didn’t like men touching you.”

“And you didn’t ask?” Y Nhi is incredulous.

“How am I supposed to ask? ‘Jude, when I touch you, does it remind you of your sleazy ex boyfriends?’ You’d say no. Like a liar. Or so I thought.” He pauses. “Anyway, this means I can hug you now, right? 24/7.”

“If you ease into it.”

“And you’ll stop wearing those gigantic shirts that literally drown you.”

“...No. What?”

“Okay, never mind, nothing. What else? What other boundaries do we have?”

Of all questions she’s been asked today, this one is probably the most confusing. Her previous relationships are no help; she hasn’t exactly had the best exposure to “healthy relationships.” She’s aware that the bare minimum counts as decadence for her, so the question has her a little frozen.

After watching her face flicker through whatever emotions it’s displaying, Vinny rubs a thumb over her knuckles. “How about this: I have a specific thing I want your help with, and when things come up, we can talk about it.”

Y Nhi nods, though they both know she won’t talk about shit. But perhaps watching Vinny sort out whatever issue he needs sorted will give her inspiration on how to approach this. “Can we-?” She starts and stops abruptly.

Vinny blinks, then feeds her a strawberry slice. “Go ahead.” It’s a tactful move. Putting food in her mouth means she has to chew, meaning she has a few more seconds to gather herself and her thoughts, or at the very least, the desire to continue speaking.

“Can we not label this?” She finishes. “Whatever is between us.”

To her surprise, Vinny nods and acts like she hasn’t asked the bitchiest question of the night. “Sure.” You can do whatever you want, he’d said, as long as you do it by my side.

“And… Get rid of Jude.”

“What?”

“Jude. You remember why I picked that name?”

“Because of some fictional fairy queen that had the same name? You thought she was a conniving boss ass bitch and-”

“Shut up. Saint Jude. Patron saint of?”

Technically speaking, he hasn’t been wrong about the fairy queen bit. Unlike the suckers who fell for Cardan Greenbriar, Y Nhi’s wimpy ass was all in for Jude Duarte, mortal queen of the fae. And it was easier to admit that than to admit the truth that was dawning on Vinny’s face in 3… 2...

“Hopeless causes,” Vinny answers easily. Then his expression sobers. “Oh.”

Y Nhi nods. “But the me with you isn’t a hopeless cause. I don’t want her to be, anyway.”

There’s a lot that goes unsaid, but she’s certain Vinny hears it. Logically, she can’t keep relying on whatever instinct says, He’ll understand because he’s Vinny, but up to this point, it should work out okay.

Gently, he says, “Y Nhi,” reacquainting himself with the syllables of her given name. “Y Nhi.”

“Yes, Vinny?” She says just as gently.

He lowers his voice to a husky whisper, “You’ve never been a hopeless cause. You were a cause for hope.”

-

Vinny’s request is this: that Y Nhi teach him to be soft again.

The request makes her question if she and Vinny exist in the same dimension because who the hell convinced him he wasn’t soft? Hardened, prickly souls don’t master winged eyeliner for the sake of their loved ones. They don’t volunteer extra hours at Vacation Bible School while working graveyard shifts at the hospital. Don’t do the dishes because as much as they hate them, their roommate hates them more.

Vinny is soft, and Y Nhi is out for blood. “I need names, Vincent. And addresses if you have them.”

“My ex,” he says.

An awkward sound emerges from Y Nhi’s throat.

He raises an eyebrow at her. “What? I dated around. Didn’t think I should be hung up on you, but nothing ever went as planned. Anyway, my one ex did a really good job making me become someone I wasn’t. I didn’t like the person she made me, but it was kind of too late to turn around.”

Again, Y Nhi is confused. The narrative is promising, though, so she lets him continue in hopes that it’ll clear something up.

“If you don’t know me, how would you describe me?”

“Vinny.” She doesn’t have an answer, she just doesn’t want to say it. It’s not all good, and they just came back from an awkward fight. Was it a fight?

They’ve slipped back into their normal existence so easily. Nothing has changed, but at the same time, everything has.

“Just- The rings and the black and the tattoos. You’d think I drove a motorcycle or something, right?”

“You drive a Lexus. It’s the same in terms of your fuck boy vibes.”

“Y Nhi!”

“BMW would’ve sealed the deal. How many Hennessys do you drink a night, again?”

A pout settles on his face. She likes this version of him. “I see you get my point. I look like a baddie.”

“Yeah. Bad at life.”

“I swear to god.”

“Don’t do that, that’s a sin. Don’t use the lord’s name in vain and all.”

“Anyway. You of all people know I am soft, actually. She didn’t like that. And so I gained a second personality and-”

It’s rude, the way Y Nhi interrupts, but Vinny doesn’t seem to mind at all. “So if you’re always soft, what’s left for me to help you with?”

“You’ll see,” he says. “Actually. No, I’m going to tell you. I get embarrassed about my relationships. So if it ever looks like I’m pushing you away… I’m just really fucking embarrassed, at least for this first stage. Do what you will with that.”

- bonus/epilogue -

They return home for Y Nhi’s mom’s birthday. They’ve always rode home together, since they are neighbors no matter where they are. No one finds it odd that they hold hands more than before, that Y Nhi is still averse to touching everyone but him.

They appear at social events hanging on each other’s arms. Commentary about their status as a “married couple” breeze over their heads, but they never confirm nor deny anything. In public, they remain aloof to each other. They show tenderness in only the smallest of gestures.

In private, they are as they ever were. Vinny still does her eyeliner on her bad days, but now she cuddles him on the couch on his bad days. Between the two of them, there are a lot of bad days, days when they almost threw in the towel.

But they didn’t. Instead, they’ve introduced all manner of pet names (Vinny’s favorites to use are love, darling, and lately, em. Y Nhi’s favorites are Vinny and anh). They write songs to each other, for each other, with each other. Every morning, they make the choice to keep loving each other the way they have since they were fifteen - and while they joke that they wasted so much time, it was a necessary time for them to spend apart to learn how to exist together and how to choose each other even when it’s the harder choice than letting go.

Even I get lonely too

It’s not hard

Every question’s got an answer

And mine is you

Where you go then I will follow

All my life

You’re the name that I will whisper to the night

#musclememory.wip #it turned out differently than planned #but I hope you enjoy it!