Scholarly (Yelena X Reader) ON HOLD

Chapter Five

The next day I'm sitting with Connie and Jean in their dorm binge watching Netflix when I get a notification on my phone that my creative writing assignment has been graded.

Anticipation builds in my chest as I open up the email. I'm nervous my actions when handing in said assignment were going to impact how she graded me.

Even that small fear couldn't have prepared me for what I was seeing on my screen. I can do nothing but stare emptily at my phone.

Connie notices my expression and asks, "Hey what is it Y/N?" but I can't find the words to answer and instead just hand him the phone.

He takes it with a look of confusion crossing his face.

"No, this can't be correct," he says; forever being optimistic.

Jean comes from where he was sitting to take a look and laughs when he sees my failure. "Wow Y/N I guess I'm the smart one of the group now," he says cockily, clearly not reading the room.

Connie punches him in the arm and they start to bicker, but I tone it all out. All I can think is that this can't be possible.

Of course writing is subjective, but how terrible was my writing to afford me an F? No, I know it wasn't terrible at all. This has to be wrong.

I quickly grab my phone back from Jean who was still holding it and murmur my goodbyes to the two of them.

As I wait in the elevator I confirm that Yelena does have office hours today and by some stroke of luck there still seems to be an hour left before that ends. When the elevator opens up on the building's lobby I speed off in the direction of the building her office is housed in.

I make it there in minutes, panting slightly as I take the elevator up to the top floor. The syllabus says she is temporarily installed in Professor Smith's office, which is number 518.

I scan the metal plaques next to each door I pass.

510, 512, 514...

I slow my pace and take a moment to gather my appearance once I reach the door labeled 518.

With a deep breath I knock firmly on the door. I wait in silence, about to knock a second time when her voice radiates through the door to me.

"Enter," is all she says.

I turn the knob and am greeted by a large and imposing oakwood desk; with the more imposing Yelena sitting casually behind it. I walk further into the room and close the door behind me.

"I'd like to discuss the grade on my last assignment," I say, getting directly to the point of my being here.

"And what exactly is it that you want to talk about? The grade accurately reflects the quality you turned in to me," she says as she leans back in her chair.

"That isn't true!" I blurt out before catching myself. Her eyes darken and she stands. As she approaches me she continues, "If you expect to receive a meaningful grade then I expect the work to be meaningful."

She keeps walking, getting so close that I take a step back and find myself running up against the office door.

She continues until she's right before me, placing one hand on the door my back rests on so that she can lean down to lock eyes with me.

"Poetry is supposed to make the reader feel something," as she speaks she lifts her other hand and lets it rest lightly around my neck, making me shiver. "Your work is surface level, nothing but pretty words. Anyone can write pretty words."

My heart beats wildly at the light contact of her skin on mine. She tightens her grip slightly, causing a small gasp to escape my lips. She smirks down at me.

"Write something that will make someone reading it feel what you feel," she says as she withdraws her hand and stands back up to her towering full height. "Until then your grade stands."

She turns and goes to sit back behind the desk. It takes a moment for me to remember how to breathe normally again but I quickly take my leave before my treacherous knees can give out on me.

I contemplate what she said as I walk back to my building. What exactly did she want me to write about? The idea of interwinding my own deep emotions into something she would read makes my stomach knot.

A part of me knows she's right though. Even though my poetry was good in theory, I never wrote about anything personal to myself. I never went beyond the surface.

The fact that Yelena made a point frustrates me more than the bad grade itself.

When I enter my room I notice Sasha is gone, likely on her way to her evening class. I sigh and sit at my desk, opening my laptop to view my saved poetry. As I go through all of the ones I have saved my heart sinks.

Though all of them are pleasant to read, none of them feel personal to me. She was right, anyone could have written this.

I wrack my brain for ideas as I sit there, continuously drawing blanks. Just as I'm about to give up, the spark of an idea emerges. But the thought makes me nauseous. There's one thing I know I can write about meaningfully. One thing that I wouldn't be able to stop myself from pouring emotion into my work.

But do I want Yelena reading that work? Would I be able to expose those kinds of dark emotions to anyone but myself?

I decide I have to try. I open a new word document and stare at the blank page as I allow feelings that I have worked so hard to mask to come flowing to the forefront of my mind. As I begin to type, tears fall down my cheeks. My vision blurs as I push through, trying my hardest to express these feelings with words.

I have to stop periodically to breathe and remind myself that I am safe. Soon I have three poems, they're rough and far from perfect but they're real.

I save the document and decide I can proof them later tonight after I've had time to collect myself once again.

Doubt still dances at the corner of my thoughts. What if Yelena reads these and still decides it isn't meaningful? What would that say about me?

I shake the thoughts from my mind. I can't panic myself over a possibility that hasn't happened yet.

To take my mind off of that train of thought I decide to check the tracking on all of the items Sasha and I ordered last night. All of them are set to be delivered well before the party.

The guys still don't know what we're going as; a detail Sasha and I decided to hide purely because of how entertaining it is to hear Jean guess.

Once Sasha returns from class I can do any editing on the poems. That way I have someone there in case I get emotional like I did when writing them.

They technically aren't due for some time, but since I have already completed the chapter review outlines due this coming week I decide it's still best that I get this done tonight.

I go and lay on my bed, staring up at the ceiling that Sasha covered in glow in the dark stars when we moved into this room a few weeks ago. I decide a nap is well deserved right now and allow my eyes to fall closed as I drift off. 

(Published 04/15/21)

A/N: Hey guys! The next chapter will be the Halloween party so prepare for some smut. <3