#I remember when she was just a baby and now she's like thirteen and she's so smart 🥹 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

prodagustd · 10 days

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the road not taken 03 | myg

part three: four seconds

Summary: If you wanted to stop thinking about Yoongi, the first step was as easy as stop seeing him, but why it seemed like he was following everywhere you went?

<part two

—pairing: lawyer!yoongi x actress oc

—rating: +18

—genre: brother's best friend, one sided pinning (or both?)

—warnings/tags: slow burn,angst, fluff, eventual smut, angst, sexual tension!!!!! flashbacks, ANGST!! Btw english is not my first language !!

—words: 11k

—a/note: HERE IT ISSSSSSSS!!! I'm sosososos sorry for taking so long, but it is finally here!! I swear I would try and update monthly from now on, but enjoy this for now!! It has a lot of backstory so I hope you enjoy it. btw these last months I've been going to a poetry workshop so I was on fire writing this (ok maybe not since I took so long to finish it lmao). As always feedback is always welcomed, and if you want to discuss this part in the asks you're welcomed as well!! ilyyyy

series masterlist | teaser | playlist

Present

When Yoongi turned thirteen, your mother promised to bake a Batman cake as a gift for his birthday party. You had a clear memory of sitting at the counter the day before the party as she decorated the cake with yellow icing that tasted like just like bananas, and the next day when Yoongi gave you the first piece of cake you remembered thinking it was the best thing you ever tasted. A few years ago, when Yoongi turned twenty three, you asked him if he remembered the taste of that cake, and, as he smoked what he swore it would be the last cigarette of his life, he said that he did not. At that time you asked him how it was possible that he didn’t remember the taste of some cake your mom made ten years ago, how was it possible that information of such importance had gone unnoticed? Looking back, you could say that it was not Yoongi’s fault, maybe you were the only one holding onto memories and he was as forgetful as everyone else. After all, Yoongi forgot he promised he would quit smoking that very same night, he would smoke his last cigarette only a year later, but even to this day you couldn’t forget the taste of that cake.

You were just beginning to realize you were condemned to be one of those people who just remembered. Like your aunt, who knew all the birthdays and all the deathdays, all your cousins’ first words, including yours, and was often caught reminiscing every detail of the day she met her husband thirty springs ago. Maybe it was in the family, and it was only a matter of time until you started speaking memories instead of words, so you tried to stop it, but they lived in your mind regardless if you decided to stop mentioning them out loud or not.

Like the perfume of your granddad that he only wore on Christmas, or the way blood and tears tasted the day you broke your teeth when you were eight and tried to play basketball with Yoongi and Simon but tripped. You sobbed like a baby, but Yoongi hugged you so tight that you forgot you were going to be toothless for the following month.

You collected the memories, the words, the smell and the taste, you held them close to your heart, stuck in your chest with a stake, forced to remember everything while everyone around you just forgot. And you didn’t complain, you couldn’t, why would you? Life was like that, happening in front of you as you stood in front of the body length mirror in your mother’s room, as you closed your eyes and tried to remember the yellow icing in Yoongi’s birthday cake, it happened in front of you as you tried to avoid it. You knew you had to stop lingering in the past when all those details, all those colors, and all those memories began to turn against you. Like every January, when your mind reminded you that your body was still stuck in the freezing cold of the morning you decided to leave home four years ago.

That morning, when you decided to go see Yoongi five days into the new year because he had barely texted you since the last day you saw him, January 2nd, when he received the news from his aunt that his mother had an accident during their trip. You walked to his apartment instead of driving because you didn’t think it was that cold, but you were immediately proven wrong when your hands started to get frozen and your feet began to hurt as you walked in the snow, but that didn’t stop you. He said he was going to be home for a second to grab some stuff and then come back to the hospital, where his mom was, so you were expecting the look of surprise on his face when he saw you at the door, what you weren’t expecting was the way he was hesitating to let you in. You remembered the things he did and the things he said that day like they were engraved in your memory, but mostly the way he was looking at you, like he wanted to run away, from you? from his life? You still didn’t know, all you knew is that after that you had no other option than to turn around and walk away.

When you thought about it for too long you could still feel the way the snow lingered all the way home in your clothes and hair, how it stayed on the sole of your shoes for the following years, how your tears froze in your cheeks because you refused to wipe them away. Sometimes you woke up in the middle of the night and could still feel the snow running down your back, making you wonder if winter was still chasing you.

Inside your body it had been winter for so long that your heart seemed to be completely frozen ever since you left home, only now that you were back you realized that perhaps autumn was not warm enough to heal your heart.

That was not the last time you saw Yoongi, but you believed it was the last time you decided to talk to him, the last time you allowed yourself to even lay eyes on him.

You wished you could find peace for at least a moment, but it seemed that you had to work hard for it, it was getting tiring to remember that you were the one who caused the chaos that was your life, and now you were the one who had to fix it: your mother, your brother, Ian and Sally, and even your public image. Doing the last button of your white shirt you asked the universe: why couldn’t those be all your problems? You swore to the man in the sky that if he sent you all your problems in the form of a giant monster you were willing to fight it, only if he could stop you from seeing Yoongi tonight.

Perhaps you should stay in your mom’s room tonight, not attending dinner was okay, your mom made that clear, but at the same time you were twenty five years old now, you couldn’t keep acting like an angry teenager who decided to skip dinner. You knew that it wasn’t going to make things better, but at least seeing your brother was going to make you feel normal, and that was the only reason you decided to set foot outside the room when you heard the bell ring.

Four years ago.

Two weeks before New Year’s Eve.

You should’ve known that it would be useless to stop thinking about what happened a week ago the minute you woke up in the same bed as Yoongi, but you still tried. You tried, and tried, and tried in countless ways, like for example, when you tried to watch a whole season of The Office in one sitting, or when you listened your mom rant about some turkish drama she was watching, or when Minnie texted a few days ago and you let her talk about that job she mentioned that night until you fell asleep. And then, you agreed to meet her for a coffee and she talked non stop about the same open audition four hours away in the city.

You were not sure if she was beginning to convince you or you were just desperately trying to stop thinking about Yoongi, you thought the only logical explanation for both theories was that you were about to go crazy.

But if you were being honest to yourself, you couldn’t help but be interested in it. Minnie pitched the job like a gothic dramatic love story, which sounded just like something you would love. She also said it wasn’t a super big play, but it wasn’t small either, and it was pretty well paid. Minnie mentioned she knew the producers and the director and could put on a good word for you.

“Why don’t you do it, then?” You had asked her, not being sure if you would do the same thing for someone who didn’t talk to you in years. “And why me?”

“Oh, well, I don’t know if it’s my style and… I’m not sure if I’m ready to leave home yet.” She replied with a nostalgic tone in her voice. “And why not you? I don’t know anyone who can pull it off, and you appeared in front of my eyes. Must be a sign.”

You couldn’t understand the first thing, how adamant she was to stay here, as much as you tried to see the world through her eyes, you couldn’t, a few years ago you took the first chance to get out of here and didn’t look back. But sitting there, at the small table next to the window, it wasn’t difficult to tell which one of you two looked more happy (hint: it wasn’t you). Minnie was different, she was still working at The Alley, she loved it there and wasn’t willing to let it go yet.

The second thing, you couldn’t understand either, but it made sense for her to do it. Being kind was natural for Minnie, she didn’t hold grudges, and you weren’t sure if you deserved that kindness. She waved away all your concerns, your whens and whys and hows, she kept repeating the same words; “it must be a sign”, “it’s clearly meant to be”, and you just laughed and tried to not to think about Yoongi. And it worked for a while, because on the way home you allowed yourself to fantasize about it for at least ten minutes. Moving to the city and working there for weeks and weeks and maybe months or years, and not having to pretend you were someone else. But the minute you entered your house you were reminded of what you were trying to forget.

The memory kept sneaking in your mind, just like Yoongi sneaked in your bed that night. The image of his hooded eyes, his pink lips and the reminder that nothing really happened kept wandering inside your head.

That night you entered the house giggling like babies and when both of you were changed and ready to sleep you got under the covers, not thinking whether it was right or wrong. And yes, your bed was big enough for you and him, but your arms and legs still slightly touched during the whole night, and when you woke up your feet where tangled with each other, leaving you wondering if you were stupid for thinking something had changed between the two of you, or maybe the way he looked at you when he opened his eyes was just your twisted imagination.

Yes, you were probably crazy when you thought he was looking at you differently when you made him breakfast, like you promised. You were crazy for thinking it felt like you were in a different universe when you sat in the kitchen island the whole morning and then found Nightmare Before Christmas on tv and discussed if it was a Christmas or a Hallowen movie on the couch.

And then, of course, he left, bringing you back to reality. But then during the week he came back, and then left again, and came back again. You knew you had to kick him out, you knew it was for the best to make up an excuse and say you were busy, but this time he promised to get your car repaired, so you let him take you to his uncle’s garage.

Yoongi’s uncle was nowhere to be found today, but Namjoon, Yoongi’s friend, was in charge, although he wasn’t very happy with people being loud while he was working. By the time Namjoon established he didn’t want any of you there at the garage, you had already decided you were staying.

You knew Namjoon ever since he started working with Yoongi’s uncle, he was a tall and big guy with a shy smile, he wore glasses and read books, he was funny and smart and you knew that he had more more than one girl waiting for him to text them back, and for some reason, despite being really handsome, and really cute, and really tall… he was still single. Not that you cared, of course, you were interested in… other people…You still allowed yourself to admire him, like when you watched that Turkish drama with your mom because you were trying not to think of Yoongi and the lead actor helped a lot with it.

Now you were there, sitting on top of some dirty table next to a bunch of tools you couldn’t name, trying to keep silent when Namjoon scolded you again.

Yoongi was very good at ignoring him, he pretended he didn’t listen to his friend as he leaned towards you, talking really close to your ear. “Should I give your grandma a Christmas present?” He asked, half joking, half serious. “You know, so she’s in a good mood.”

You turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “A bottle of klonopin, maybe.” You said, making Namjoon scoff loudly.

He turned around, now interested in the conversation, looking at you both. “Why do you want to give her grandma a Christmas present?” He asked, confused. One of the reasons why Namjoon didn’t like people talking while he was working was because he was easily distracted, when he was interested in the topic he didn’t seem too annoyed.

Yoongi turned around to face him, deciding his friend was there all of a sudden. “I’m spending Christmas with her family next week.” He explained, being kind enough to forget that Namjoon explicitly told him to shut the fuck up about twenty minutes ago. “But she’s a bit moody.”

That was one way to describe your grandmother, the other one was to say she was a complete witch.

“Yeah, Yoongi invited himself.” You teased him, instantly feeling one of his fingers digging into your rib, making you jump.

Namjoon quietly observed the scene like something he wasn’t supposed to watch, with his mouth hung open ready to say something, but his mind was still searching for words. You suspected that Yoongi’s answer left him with more doubts that he had to begin with.

“Really?” He managed to say, curious. “I didn’t know you two were… like that.” Namjoon cautiously started the sentence, but didn’t dare to finish it in case he was wrong, although the scene you were making was clearly making him believe he was right.

You jumped in your seat, opening your eyes widely as you understood what he was implying. “Oh, no.” You rushed to say, waving your hands in the air.

“No, not like that.” Yoongi talked at the same time as you, crossing looks as if you were reassuring each other of it. His eyes were as open as yours, shaking his head trying to deny the accusation. “My mom is not here until the first week of January.” He explained, making Namjoon nod, still confused at your nervous reactions. “So I’m alone at Christmas.”

Yoongi looked at you, giving a look that meant “it makes sense, right?” and yes, of course it made sense. You and Yoongi had spent Christmas together before, he knew your whole family since he was a kid, he grew up with Simon, he was family too, it made sense, but Namjoon’s implication made both of you jump in your seats, talking over each other as you laughed nervously.

“So all of you three are spending Christmas together?” Namjoon continued to ask, trying to understand the conversation again. “You two and Simon?”

There was a beat of silence in the room, but you were quick to answer. “Simon is spending Christmas with his girlfriend, so we're on our own.”

Namjoon nodded again, trying not to think too much about it. “So Simon is okay with you keeping all his gifts?” He tried to joke, but the answer only sounded worse.

You looked at Yoongi, but he was looking at his shoes, avoiding Namjoon’s eyes. Neither of you bothered to mention to Simon that you were spending Christmas together, was it really necessary? Why was Namjoon making it sound like it was necessary for him to know? Why did you feel the need to explain to him that it wasn’t weird at all that you were spending Christmas together alone? You weren’t alone after all, there was your mom, and your grandmother, your aunt and some of your cousins too, I mean, you’ll have to share the room, of course, but- wait… You had to share the room. You forgot about that.

Oh my God… Simon couldn’t find out about that.

You were quick to suppress the thought, agreeing with yourself to handle that matter later, but right now Namjoon was looking at you like he expected an answer. You quickly realized that Namjoon was just as noisy as you.

“Oh, he doesn’t need to know.” You said, brushing it off, but your mind was already in chaos.

Present

You were never really interested in astrology, you tried to get into it a few years ago only to understand what Minnie was saying since she talked about it most of the time, but you ended up being too skeptical to believe in anything. You didn’t believe in God, or in astrology and you weren’t even sure if you could call yourself an atheist completely, but you were still curious. Early in life you realized you were agnostic, (you were aware that you sounded like a pretentious man on a first date when you said it out loud), but you still asked every person you met their star signs in case they matched with their personalities, as if you were still trying to prove yourself wrong.

You didn’t know if the universe was right or wrong, but if you were sure about something, it was that Simon was a Leo. Not only because he was born on the first of August, but because he fitted in every category of a Leo. He was charming and confident, outgoing, he was a natural leader and people always felt drawn to him, making him a little bit… self centered.

Like every other Leo, Simon loved his birthday, that was the only reason why you were thinking about it. Two months ago, the first of August, you called him on his birthday like every sister calls her brother on his birthday. You could’ve just sent a message like the past year, but your life was already beginning to feel suffocating. Talking to Simon seemed to ease your heart for a while. He wanted to talk to you about his job at the firm and his girlfriend, the cat they adopted, how they were planning to move to a bigger apartment the following year and asked when you thought it was a great time to propose. You needed to feel like something was in place, like your relationship with Simon was normal, like he could tell you anything and you could listen and just laugh. It worked for the first ten minutes, until he inevitably brought up the topic of his birthday party, and he inevitably invited you, and you inevitably had to say no.

You missed Simon, you missed your mom, you missed your bed and your home, but you weren’t ready to come back, you weren’t ready to see the thousand faces you left behind, you were still hesitant to come back. Now you were there, tense at the end of the stairs because the disappointed tone on his voice lingered in your mind to this day.

Some voice in your head was telling you that it was what adults do, take responsibility for their actions, seeing people even if you preferred not to see them because that was what grown ups do. You were supposed to be an adult of twenty five years old, even if you felt like you never grew out of that bitter phase only teenagers go through, you were still an adult, so why did you feel like a kid at the end of the stairs, waiting for Simon to lay eyes on you?

Your mom hugged him tightly like she hadn’t seen him in months, and when he pulled away from her grip he noticed you, coming down the stairs as you realized that he, like your mom, wasn’t expecting to see you today.

Simon frowned, surprised, but just a second later a smile took over his face “Hey, you.” He said, opening his wide arms, offering you a hug. “What are you doing here?”

You took a deep breath, almost turning around to check if he was talking to another person behind you, but no, he was talking to you. He grabbed your wrists, pulling you closer to hug you the same way your mom was hugging him a moment ago. “Is this not my house?” You murmured against the fabric of his blue sweater, feeling your heart hammering against your ribcage as you tried to make a joke.

“Of course it is.” He just said, leaving a kiss on your hair.

Four years ago.

Two weeks before New Year’s Eve.

If you wanted to stop thinking about Yoongi, the first step was as easy as stop seeing him, because your mind was not helping at all.

After leaving his uncle’s garage you should’ve gone home to start thinking a way of telling Yoongi that he couldn’t sleep in the same bedroom as you on Christmas, you needed to think of an excuse for why he should sleep in your grandma’s one thousand year old couch instead of Simon’s empty bed, which was casually right next to yours.

The following step should be to watch some romcom with Heath Ledger and try to forget the way Yoongi rolled up his sleeves when he was pretending to help Namjoon with your car, or at least the way you stared like an idiot for a good moment before snapping out of it.

He should’ve gone home too, he had no business walking in the same direction as you if his apartment was towards the other end of the street. It didn’t take you long to realize he was following you “for some coffee, since we’re cold”, as he said, already assuming that you didn’t have any plans (he wasn’t wrong).

You didn’t want to chase him away, you were still working on that thing of not being a bitch, and while there was a rational part of you that knew that you were better off not seeing Yoongi, there also was a part of you who couldn’t get enough of him. A better explanation was that you might be a masochist.

The garage wasn’t far from home, but you were walking fast as if you were trying to lose him in the way.

“Is Namjoon still single?” You wondered out loud, trying to redirect your thoughts somewhere far away from him. At least for now it didn’t seem that difficult, you remembered the sweet smile of Yoongi’s friend and the way he lifted his glasses with his finger up to the bridge of his nose. Was he really shy or was he just faking it so girls thought he was cute? Either way, it was working.

“What?” Yoongi raised his voice, frowning at you.

You frowned back at him “I asked if Namjoon is still single.” You repeated, but you were sure he heard it right. “How come he’s still single?”

The wind hit your face, so you made yourself small in your jacket, scanning the street for any cars before crossing in the middle of the street. Yoongi followed you without hesitation, running to the other side of the street before you left him behind.

“Why…?” He yelled, trying to catch up with you, but when he was next to you he lowered his voice “Why do you care?”

The question sounded strange coming out of his lips, but you ignored his tone, turning your head. “I’m curious.” You just said, but he still couldn't shake the strange look on his face. “What?” You pushed his shoulder “Don’t look at me that way.”

“I’m not looking at you in any way.” He defended himself.

He was clearly looking at you in some way, you just didn’t know which. You winced, trying to brush it off “I’m just asking…” You murmured “He’s really cute, don’t you think? He works at the garage, he wears glasses, he’s got cute dimples. How is he still single?”

“It seems like you gave him a good look.” He mumbled under his breath, taking his eyes off you.

“I’m just a very observant girl.” You argued. “C’mon, you didn’t think about it? I’ve never seen Namjoon with a girl…” You kept wondering, staying silent as Yoongi, for some reason, refused to keep this conversation going. You still didn’t know how Simon and Yoongi were such good friends, Simon always knew everything about everyone, how was it possible that Yoongi refused to even discuss the reason for Namjoon's long singleness? Or maybe Yoongi was keeping the reason as a secret, maybe it was something no one was supposed to know. Suddenly, you connected two and two together, interpreting Yoongi’s reluctance in the most logical way. You gasped “Oh! Or is he…?”

Yoongi rolled his eyes, making a sound of annoyance when he realized you were still talking about the same thing. “No, he’s not gay, Pinky.” He sighed “He’s just not into dating.”

You turned the corner of the street, making Yoongi follow you. “Like my brother?” You asked, remember how everyone said the same thing about Simon.

He snorted “No, not like your brother.” He said “Simon was a mess… Namjoon is just a shy guy.”

You arched an eyebrow. That was the lamest excuse ever, it wasn’t enough explanation for you. Maybe Yoongi was right and Namjoon was just-a-shy-guy, or maybe Yoongi didn’t know the real reason why he has been single for years because men never communicate their feelings with each other, maybe Namjoon was dating his first love for years until she broke her heart, making him never want to date again, or maybe…

“Stop.” He said, interrupting your train of thought. Now it was his turn to push your shoulder “Don’t even think about it.”

He gave you a warning look, which made you confused for a moment… Wait, what was he thinking? Did Yoongi confuse your nosiness for something else? Did something that you said made him think your intentions were different? … Was he really thinking you were interested in Namjoon?

You pursed your lips, trying to contain your laugh. You could explain to Yoongi that he misunderstood you and deny every accusation, but something inside you told you that the current scenario was more fun.

“I’m not thinking about anything.” You said, faking innocence, and even if you really weren't he looked at you like he didn’t believe you.

“Yeah, right.” He huffed “Didn’t sound like that.”

“Really? How did it sound, then?” You teased him “Enlighten me.”

Yoongi did not say another word after that, refusing to follow your game. You've known him for longer than you could remember —literally, he said he remembered meeting you when he was four and Simon invited him into the house so he could meet his new baby sister, but you had no recall of it—, even so, you had no memory of him ever being mad at you, not even slightly annoyed, so you were a bit confused when his expression remained serious for the rest of the walk home. Was it so bad to show interest in Namjoon?

“Don’t even think about it.” What did that even mean?

Present

You were trying to avoid the memory of Ian’s proposal for weeks now. It was painted in your mind, the excited look on his face, his mom’s ring on his hand, the flowers, the cool white lights, the ringing in your ears that warned you something was wrong. You remembered wondering if he knew that you read all those texts he sent to other women, if he knew how ridiculous everything looked. It still made you cringe when you accidently thought about it. Did he really think you were the same as him?… Weren’t you different?

Despite being the most embarrassing moment of your life to date, you weren’t trying to hide it, you were planning to tell your family about it when the time was right. Like tonight, for example. You thought you could talk to them about it, that you could have time to explain everything, to apologize for not saying anything, maybe for a couple other things too… But your plan was ruined the moment your mom told you she had planned a dinner in your absence on the same day you arrived.

Now Simon was looking at you like you were thirteen and you got your heart broken for the first time. He rested his elbows on the table you and him just set, sighing. You were aware that the rest of the guests were on their way, but you tried to ignore it. It wasn’t that difficult since Simon’s thoughts were echoing in the room, making you shift in your seat. Of course Simon already knew about it, you were sure he already read it in some tabloid before you got the chance to tell him first.

“Stop doing that.” You said, breaking the silence. He didn’t seem surprised, but still narrowed his eyes, trying to play dumb.

“Doing what?”

You weren’t sure what he was doing exactly, maybe you were just imagining the way he was looking at you: with pity, but it was annoying you, and he knew that, perhaps it was the reaction he was expecting from you. He was laughing five minutes ago, making fun of you when he saw you trip on the step of the entrance to the kitchen like nothing changed between the two of you, but now he was sitting in silence as if he was preparing you to ask you the question.

You wished Florence, Simon’s girlfriend, were here. She would fill the uncomfortable silences with gossip about the neighbors and ignore the elephant in the room. She was away visiting her family, so instead you were there with him as he tried to play the big brother role, but failed terribly.

“Are you going to ask me about it?” You asked, not hesitating.

Simon let your question linger in the air, pretending you didn’t just read his mind. There were only a few people you could say you knew like the palm of your hand, one of them was your brother. Even if you spent years separated, you’ve always been as thick as thieves, you still saw right through Simon, and the only problem with that was that he saw right through you as well.

“Are you going to tell the truth?” He calmly asked, enjoying the look on your face when he heard you gasp, offended.

It hurt to know how implicit it was that you hadn’t been honest these past years, it was easy to catch you off guard. While you were out in the world, away from your family, Simon stayed here and visited your mom every sunday and tried to ignore the fact that you didn’t answer any of their messages that week, saying that you were busy working when you really were trying to avoid invitations for the next weekend. It was obvious that Simon was the one that spent more time with your mom, you thought about that the second he used the same tone as her when she was scolding you.

You crossed your arms over your chest, frowning “Maybe, I can think about it.” You said in the same tone as him. Simon just scoffed, shaking his head.

“Fine. That was too much to ask for, I guess.” He snarked, mocking you “I have a simpler question… are you okay?”

Despite his attempt to appear casual and keep bickering, his concern was evident. That question could have felt like a caress to the soul, a sigh of relief, the feeling of home, but instead it felt like Simon had punched you in the stomach, leaving you without air. How easy it was to fight with Simon, how easy would’ve been for you if he didn’t hug you when he saw you thirty minutes ago. It would’ve been less difficult than witnessing his blue eyes showing you mercy. It was clear that he cared for you, but you weren't sure if you deserved it, not from him of all people.

“Simon…” You murmured, shaking your head. It was an easy question, but difficult to answer knowing this wasn’t the right moment, this wasn’t how you planned things.

“What?” He questioned, reading your mind “I’m not asking you just because I have to, I’m not waiting for you to lie to me and tell me that you’re alright so I can forget about it, I care.”

“I know you care.” You breathed out “It’s just…” You sighed, vacillating “Listen… I haven’t- I’m not okay, really… But I can manage. I just feel like this is not the right moment to talk about it.” You looked at the entrance of the door and his sorry eyes followed, understanding what you meant. Simon nodded, but he didn’t stop looking at you like you were a wounded animal.

“That’s fine, I understand.” He murmured “That’s what I wanted to know. I was just wondering if you were going to be okay tonight.”

“I’ll be fine, as long as I don’t have to talk about myself. We’ll have time for that” You assured him.

“Are you sure?” He continued to question, doubting you.

You squinted your eyes “Yes, I'm sure, Simon.” You said, annoyed, even if you couldn’t blame him for not trusting your word. “I’m not planning to run away.”

“Not again?” He tried to joke, but you didn’t dare to laugh.

“I assure you, not again.” You rolled your eyes, hating that that was the image your brother had of you, hating to know that he was right. “You can stop looking at me like I’m a lost puppy now, I’m not a lost puppy.”

He scoffed “Are you not a lost puppy?” He asked “Where are you sleeping tonight?”

You frowned, offended “Here, of course… I mean, on the couch probably, but here.” You tried to defend yourself, but you immediately realized that your room was still a mess, and instead of cleaning a bit before dinner, you spent the whole afternoon sleeping.

His lips curved into a mocking smile, knowing that there wasn’t much difference between you and a lost puppy. “You can sleep at mine.” He offered.

“I wasn’t asking” You resisted, too proud to say yes right away.

“I know.” He said, and he shushed you to stop you from talking, pretending that it was the end of the discussion.

You shook your head, trying to reject those kind gestures you didn’t deserve. You opened your mouth, willing to keep arguing with your brother until you heard the bell ringing for the second time this evening, making you almost jump in your seat.

Your mom yelled from the kitchen, announcing that she was getting the door followed by the sound of her noisy shoes making their way to the door. It happened in a matter of seconds, you heard your mom rushing to the hall and opening the door, you heard muffled sounds, mixed voices, your mom greeting the guests while you waited on your chair as Simon turned his head over his shoulder, expectantly observing the entrance of the dining room.

Then, you heard steps approaching, laughter and chatter, but something else was happening in your head, something that was restricting you from hearing clearly —from thinking clearly—.

You fixed your eyes on the door, wishing no one appeared for as long as they could delay the arrival, but soon your field of vision was occupied by a short woman with curly hair and pearls in her ears. Nari, Yoongi’s mom, watched her step while she supported herself with a cane as she entered the room. Nari was just a few years older than your mom, but since the accident four years ago it has been difficult for her to walk without help, that’s why you and your brother both stood up at the same time to help her get to a seat faster.

The sound of both of your chairs being pushed back and your brother’s rushed steps filled the room. Simon was quicker than you, he approached Nari, smiling and saying hello as he grabbed one of her hands to help her find a seat.

You were not hearing anything clearly, but you were sure that Nari was complaining and telling Simon that she did not need any help, but he ignored her as he asked for her coat so he could hang it on the coat rack next to the door.

You felt clumsy, awkwardly standing in the middle of the room, unsure of what to do with yourself for the next four seconds. Four seconds that could’ve been four years, because when you lifted your gaze you realized you were standing face to face with Yoongi. An older Yoongi, a Yoongi you haven’t seen before, even if you didn’t remember when was the last time you dared to look him in the eyes, you were sure that back then he looked very different than tonight. His hair was longer, it was pushed back like he ran his finger through it, he was dressed like he just got home from work, a white dress shirt, slacks and a long black winter coat. He was dressed like an adult, a version of him that you never met and maybe never will. His gaze met yours the same way everything met you: by accident. He was not expecting to see you tonight, you knew that, now he was looking at you the same way you were looking at him, like he saw a ghost, maybe you were, maybe he was.

Yoongi opened his mouth to say something, and you had exactly one second to prepare for what he was about to say next, but you didn’t.

“Oh, Pinky.” Two words escaped his lips, tripping over each other as surprise and regret took over his features. He immediately realized he said something he wasn’t supposed to, but you still couldn’t hear clearly, you weren’t sure if you heard that right.

The nickname sent a chill down your spine, you couldn’t answer to it, and he knew it. It was like he said some forbidden word to make you freeze in your place. You couldn’t help but feel like the dumbest person on earth.

You had been thinking the whole afternoon about it, trying to think of ways of looking unbothered when Yoongi showed up tonight, but it took one stupid word for you to stop functioning normally. You wanted to say something, say hi to him and forget that he even dared to call you like that, but you refused to do it.

“Sweetheart! What are you doing here?” Suddenly, your ears were working again. Nari’s high pitched voice snapped you out of your trance, making you look away from her son’s face. It was like she didn’t notice your presence until Yoongi called you by that stupid nickname “I didn’t know you were coming!”

She attempted to stand up again, but you rushed to meet her so she wouldn’t move from her chair to let her pull you into a tight embrace. You took advantage of it, there were no more places to hide in this house, not your mom’s room or behind your brother, so you closed your eyes, hugging her back.

It was only then when you realized how much you missed being hugged like that, you remembered how much you missed such affection. Especially from her, who was always so loving to you, it was a shame that you couldn’t look her son in the eyes.

You shook those thoughts away, acting like his presence didn’t affect you. “I told my mom!” You explained “But she forgot, can you believe it?”

“She should've told me.” She said, pulling away to cup your face in her hands “I haven’t seen you in so long, angel, you look beautiful!”

“Not as much as you do, Nari, are you wearing makeup?” You tried to joke, making her giggle.

“No, darling, I don’t need that stuff.” She shook her head. “C’mon, sit next to me, we have to catch up!”

Four years ago

Seven days before New Year’s Eve.

There definitely was a logical reason why you and Yoongi were locked in the tiniest closet of your Grandma's enormous house.

The answer was somewhere in your mind, somewhere deep where your brain functioned just fine, somewhere where you weren’t trapped between Yoongi’s body and some shelf that was digging on your shoulder blade.

You were looking at each other in silence while you heard your name being called from downstairs. The palm of your hand was covering his mouth, preventing him from saying another word and his fist was clenched around your shirt to maintain his balance. You were trying to ignore how his knuckles were digging on the skin of your stomach, or how his chest was pressed against yours or the way his knee was digging in your inner thigh to keep you from crashing against the shelves full of cleaning products.

You looked at him through your eyelashes, quietly observing how his hair fell on his eyes like a curtain. You took a deep breath, thinking of the reason why you were there in the first place, which was… uhm… uh…

Oh yes! You were hiding. Yes, you were hiding from your grandmother, that was why.

This morning Yoongi showed up at your house to pick you and your mother up in his car. He was wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap with the name of his college on it. He smiled cheekily as he helped you put your bags in the trunk and you rolled your eyes when he opened the door of the passenger seat for you. Your mother was delighted, not only because she didn’t have to drive for two hours to your grandmother’s house, but also because Yoongi had that effect on everyone… including you.

Of course your grandmother loved Yoongi as well. Through her eyes, he was like another version of Simon; he was studying the same thing, he was about to graduate just like him, of course she was delighted to welcome Yoongi with open arms. You weren’t saying that you were not welcomed, or that your grandmother didn’t love you, but you were never received the same way. Yes, she hugged you and kissed you and told you she missed you, but that didn’t mean that later on she would not make comments on the way you dressed, or the way you laughed, or whether you should eat another gingerbread cookie or not.

You could endure all those things, you always did, it was nothing new to you. What you could not endure, howerever, was another second in the presence of your grandmother talking about her neighbor’s daughter. You hardly knew Aria, —the tall and blonde girl with gorgeous blue eyes that was sitting in the living room next to your grandmother— but you knew pretty much everything about her since your grandmother insisted on comparing you to her.

Ever since you were a kid your grandmother liked to compare you to every other girl of your age. You were sure Aria was a nice girl, it wasn’t her fault your grandmother was such a bitch, but you weren’t in the mood to face her today, especially when Simon wasn’t around. You knew she was coming with her family, since your grandma loved to invite the whole neighborhood when the holidays arrived, so when you heard your name being called from downstairs so you would come down and greet the guests, you hid in the nearest room of the house, the cleaning closet towards the end of the hall on the second floor.

After a few seconds you stopped hearing your mother calling for you, but then you started hearing Yoongi, approaching in the hallway as he was looking for you in the room you were staying in. You quickly opened the door, grabbed him by his arms and dragged him into the room with you.

You resolved that problem, the next step was figuring out how you would get out of the current situation.

Yoongi gently grabbed your wrist, removing the hand you were using to cover his mouth. “Aren’t you a little dramatic?” He whispered, completely ignoring the short distance that separated your face from his.

Yoongi’s breath smelled like the red wine he was drinking during lunch, and that should send some alert to your mind to warn you that he shouldn't be this close to you, but your brain seemed to be functioning on a different astral plane, and it was pretty much only focused on Yoongi’s lips.

You felt his hand opening to let go of your crumpled shirt, but then he slowly slid it back to your waist, grabbing you gently.

You gulped.

That seemed completely normal.

“Of course I am.” You whispered back, and you congratulated yourself for being able to speak. “That’s why I am hiding in a closet.”

“And you dragged me with you.” He remarked.

“You were screaming my name, you were going to give me away.” You accused him, digging a finger on his chest.

He nodded, pretending that what you just said made sense “Right, I get it. So… why are you hiding here instead of your room?” He said, emphasizing his words.

You took a quick look around the tiny dark room that wasn’t made to have two people in it. It smelled like bleach and it was full of brooms and dust. It wasn’t the most comfortable place to hide but it seemed like no one opened this room for the last four weeks, so it was safe. You returned your eyes to his face, biting your bottom lip. “My room wasn’t safe.” You explained, dead serious. “Do you think they stopped looking for me already?”

Yoongi rolled his eyes “You sound like someone is trying to kill you.”

Well, no. No one was trying to kill you, but why did you feel the need to run away as if someone was?

“No, it’s worse. If they find me I would have to tell everybody that I dropped out of college.” You effused, making him shake his head in disbelief “You are supposed to be here to support me, aren’t you?” You tried to remind him.

“I am here to support you.” He emphasized. “I am hiding in a closet with you, aren’t I?” You kept silent, knowing he was right. “But you can’t run away from everything, especially if it’s not worth the run, we’ll leave eventually and you’ll forget about your grandma for the rest of the year.”

You sighed, defeated. “I still don’t want to see fucking Aria.”

He scoffed, biting his lip to contain a laugh. “We don’t have to talk to her, we can just say hello and leave.” He said “I mean, but first we have to get out of here.”

He looked around, signaling the room you were squeezed in. He was right, again, he always was. You knew that it was absurd that you were hiding here in the first place, but something inside you urged you to stay there for a few seconds longer. Now you didn’t know if you wanted to stay there to avoid the guests or because you were getting too comfortable in his arms (you already knew the answer).

You had no idea what was happening in Yoongi’s mind, but you were too busy swimming in the warm brown of his eyes to even care, you were too busy dreaming to be interested in what this meant.

You must’ve been long gone for a few seconds, because you were only made aware that you’ve been silent for a while when you heard his soft voice.

“Pinky,” He called for you, pulling you out of the haze of your mind, but the thing that finally snapped you out of it was when you were suddenly caught off guard when you, out of nowhere, felt his hand touching your face, squeezing your cheeks between his fingers “are we going to stop hiding or not?” He calmly asked, making your heart skip a beat.

You blinked, feeling your knees getting weak. If you were speechless before, now you have become completely mute.

What. Was. He. Doing.

And what was he playing?

You couldn’t miss the way his eyes shined in the dark and how your heart swirled in your chest, becoming small the second you watched a flash of a smirk tugging at the corner of his pink lips. Was he fucking laughing at you?

And why were you standing there with your mouth hung open, racking your brain for something to say? Your mind couldn’t process if he was just playing with you, not right now, not ever. You didn’t know what game he was playing, but you decided you were not letting him win regardless. You grabbed his wrist, pulling his hand away from your face.

“Don’t treat me like a baby…” You said in a low voice, but you didn’t know what you were talking about anymore. Everything stopped making sense the moment you dragged him into this room.

He squeezed your waist, digging his fingers on your skin over your cotton shirt. “But you sound like a baby.” He murmured, leaning over you just enough to make your noses brush with each other.

Your heart dropped to your stomach, leaving you without air. God, you felt sick. This wasn’t real, this was a product of your imagination, like every single second you spent with Yoongi these last weeks. “Yoongi…” You whispered, trying to warn him, but instead it sounded like you were pleading. You might as well have done both; warning him because if he didn’t stop you would start believing whatever he was doing, and pleading because you were not sure if you could take it.

He freed himself from your grasp, grazing his thumb along your jaw bone. You couldn’t recall a time, not even in your darkest dreams, where he touched you like that.

“What?” He whispered back, his voice hoarse. “What are you going to do?”

The room laid in profound silence for a moment, the weight of your heart suffocated you and the urge to answer him, to smack him in the face, to run away, increased in your chest. You held your breath, watching him open his mouth about to say something, but then the room shook when someone knocked on the door like they were about to knock it down, being followed by the strong sound of your mom’s voice, making you jump away from him.

“Dear, don’t tell me you’re there again.” She yelled loud enough for the whole block to hear, knocking again for good measure.

Yoongi’s arms fell on each side of his body, and you couldn’t help but feel disappointed. He lifted an eyebrow, ignoring what just happened. “Again, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, pushing his chest to keep a proper distance between your body and his “Shut up.” You gritted your teeth, refusing to acknowledge the warm temperature of your face. You hated to see that there was no trace of embarrassment on his features, just pure amusement. Meanwhile, you didn’t need a mirror to know how red your cheeks were.

Three more knocks. “C’mon, get out there already!” Your mother kept yelling.

When you finally turned around and opened the door, your mother’s gaze fell upon you, looking at you with everything but surprise. It wasn’t the first time you hid there, you did it a couple times when you were a kid and fought with Simon. Your mother was well aware of your hiding place, you just expected her to think you were too old to be found here again.

The surprise came after, when her eyes caught a sigh of another face in the dark. She knew you were going to be hidden here, what she didn’t expect was to find Yoongi right next to you, maybe way too close to each other.

Her eyes widened, out of words “Oh, dear,... Yoongi… Uh, I didn’t- I didn’t know you were both here...” The sentence died in your mother’s lips, but you ignored her reaction, you stepped out of the room, fanning yourself with your hand to cool down and storming out of the situation.

“Sorry, I was dragged into this, Lila.” Yoongi explained, sounding way more composed than you, but the situation didn’t look good for either of you.

“Well, I can only imagine…” She said, but you did not miss her undertone.

You walked back to what was supposed to be your room (and Yoongi’s), leaving both of them behind.

“Your daughter can be very persuasive.” He continued to explain, his voice following you.

A low hum of your mom finished the conversation, she left trying to put together what she just saw, and you hurried your pace so you could lock yourself in the room and leave him outside.

“Pinky!” He exclaimed, stopping you at the door frame.

You needed a second alone, but he was not willing to give it to you.

You turned around, exasperated “What!?” You snapped, but he didn’t care one bit.

“Didn’t you want to get out of here?”

Present

The day Ian came to your apartment to pick up the last box with his things, you finally called your mother to tell her you and him had broken up. You had only told Minnie by then, but it got stuck in your throat for two weeks, ready to be vomited at any moment.

Your mother always said that it was important to grieve things, to be mad about them, to be sad, to cry about them, otherwise you were going to carry that weight while pretending to be okay until, someday, it would explode in your face in the worst possible way. When you broke up with Ian you patiently waited for the tears, for the pain in your chest, for the sad memories of three years with him to arrive one night at three am. You waited for the grief in your car when some sappy love song started playing, or when you went for the groceries and came face to face with the huge advertisement with his face on it, but it never came.

You had an affection for Ian that was not easy to understand, but you liked his company, you liked his unconventional jokes, that he was politically incorrect, that he laughed in the worst moments, but you were never sure you loved him, were you a horrible person for that? For not feeling bad, for not crying for him?

When your mom picked up the phone and you told her why you called, you broke down crying before finishing the sentence, you felt all the emotions stacking up your throat as you sobbed uncontrollably. You soon realized you weren’t crying for Ian, you weren’t crying because you missed him, not even for the proposal, you were crying because you needed a hug from your mom and she was four hours away.

“Women grieve during the relationship.” Minnie theorized when you told her that you didn’t feel bad for Ian “It’s normal if you don’t miss him.”

Maybe she was right, but maybe you were not grieving your relationship with Ian, but the person you were before leaving home.

Now that you were there, sitting at the table with the people that have always been your family, you knew that you were supposed to feel at ease, but the anxiety you felt at the thought of someone mentioning the big break up, as Minnie called it, was stronger. You knew everyone knew, and you knew everyone was thinking about it. Everyone but you, because you were a bit too distracted with a certain someone sitting across the table, just in front of you. A certain someone who couldn’t stop crossing looks with you.

“Aren’t they planning to make a movie about that?” You heard Simon ask, shaking off your thoughts.

As much as you wished not to be the center of attention, you should’ve known that none of your wishes would come true tonight, because every topic, every question, every comment was being redirected at you and your life in the city.

You weren’t paying much attention to the conversation, but you were sure they were talking about a play you starred in two years ago, which contained one of your most acclaimed performances. You remembered those days with pure contentment and pride, but you had numerous reasons for not wanting to talk about it.

“So I’ve heard.” You just said, looking at the half eaten portion of lasagna on your plate.

“Shouldn’t you be in it?” Nari asked this time “You were wonderful in that.”

You smiled, shrugging. “Thanks, but if they don’t offer it to me beforehand I would have to audition again. It’s a different process of casting I suppose.”

You heard almost everyone humming in response, and felt a pair of eyes fixed on the side of your face that you were still trying to ignore. In that moment you decided you would not concede said eyes another single glance tonight, as if you could ever keep your promises.

“But wouldn’t you like to be in it?” Your mom nonchalantly asked “If it were the same casting, I mean.”

You looked at her for a moment, expecting her to realize what she was asking, but she didn’t. You knew she had no business remembering every play you’ve been in, or every casting, or every detail of the life you decided to never share, but you still waited for a moment, expecting her to remember that in that very same play you ended up killing Ian’s character by stabbing him in the heart.

Nothing like reality, you thought.

“Not really.” You chuckled, bitterly “Some things are made to be done just once, it might wear off.”

You breathed out, thinking that you successfully avoided the topic without having to give any explanations.

But of course, once again, you were wrong.

“Oh, sorry, baby.” Your mother backtracked “I forgot you were there with…”

The name died on her throat, immediately knowing that the comment was unnecessary.

You pursed your lips, shaking your head “It’s fine…”

The conversation could have followed its course then, you could have changed the topic yourself, you could have perfectly saved the conversation by making something up, but Nari was quicker.

“Oh, darling, I’m sorry about that, I just heard about it this morning.” She followed your mom, giving you the condolences as if someone just died. “I had no idea.”

“Mom…” You heard Yoongi’s voice echoing in the room as a warning, and without noticing, your gaze landed on him again for a brief moment, immediately breaking your promise. You mentally cursed yourself, taking your eyes off him when he offered an apologetic smile.

Nari looked at him, annoyed at him for scolding her, “I’m just saying, I hope you’re okay, I know it’s not easy.”

“Mom.” Yoongi spoke again, this time more insistent, but his mother paid it no mind.

“It’s okay.” You said without looking at him “I’m okay, things like this happen.”

You didn’t know what things you were referring to, if the break up, the proposal, the leaked pictures, the fact that your ex boyfriend stabbed you in the back. Things like that did not happened everyday, you weren’t supposed to get used to them, but you acted like you already were.

She nodded, looking at you with eyes full of concern. “I was so surprised, honestly. Didn’t you want to get married?”

The directness of the question caught you off guard, so you couldn’t help but chuckle nervously. Everyone could sense how invasive and personal was the question, but the fact that she wasn’t trying to tip-toe around you made you smile softly. You loved Nari, and you knew she meant no harm, so, only for now, you decided to answer with the truth.

“Well, yes, someday.” You quietly professed, the words leaving your mouth like a sigh “But with the right person.”

That was enough to end the conversation, she smiled at you the same way you smiled at her and you could swear she could sense the pain in your heart, not because of Ian, but because of everything else.

Then, Phil began talking about something else and everyone joined the conversation, too scared of saying something wrong and making you cry, but you were still stuck in the moment. After some minutes, when you felt the ache in your chest increasing, you excused yourself and left the table to exit the house through the back door in the kitchen.

You took a deep breath, letting the cold air fill your lungs as you closed the door behind you. You sat at the bench next to Phil’s plants, trying to catch your breath. You were sure you were about to find a home somewhere, you found yourself surrounded by everything that used to feel like it, but you still felt like a foreign person, you still felt like a stranger, a traitor. You couldn’t find the person you were, or the fragments that you didn’t make disappear.

You weren’t strong enough yet, you understood that now. The wind in your hair reminded you that you still tried, but the lack of air in your lungs just told you how immature you still were. Still, you were mindful none of this would be easy, but you just needed a few seconds to compose yourself and then you could come back to the dining room to finish your lasagna. That sounded just fine.

When you were about to get up from your seat, you heard it. The creaking sound of the back door opening, you observed the trace of warm light that came from inside, and then, you heard that voice again.

Inevitably, your eyes met him again, whose head was peeking to verify if you were outside, and when he saw that you were, in fact, there, he closed the door behind him, leaving the two of you alone in the cold darkness of the night. What was he doing?

“You’re here.” Yoongi’s words were accompanied by some misty breath, lingering in the air before disappearing. You lowered your gaze, nervously looking at your feet. ‘You’re here’, he said, and for some reason he sounded relieved.

You were confused, you didn’t understand why he chose to follow you to the backyard, but he invited himself to stay there, leaning on the wall far enough from you.

“It’s cold here.” He announced, trying to dissipate the tension you were creating by staying silent.

You nodded your head, agreeing, but you believed you shouldn’t even grant him that.

Yoongi sighed, “I’m sorry about my mom,” He finally said “I’m sure it wasn’t her intention to put you in an uncomfortable situation.” You tried not to roll your eyes. Was that was he doing? Playing the role of an advocate? “She didn’t mean to sound rude or anything, she just has no filter.”

“It’s okay, I know.” You murmured under your breath. “It wasn’t her fault, it’s just me.”

He kept quiet, he didn’t seem too content with that answer but what could he do about it? You both knew it was the only thing you were going to tell him.

“Fine, but… you shouldn’t be out here… without a coat.” He awkwardly said, making you frown “It’s cold.”

You suppress the urge to punch him in the face, instead, you put your hands between your thighs because he was right, it was cold and you didn’t have a coat on, if you stayed too long outside you were going to get sick.

“I know it’s cold.” You acknowledged “I’m going inside in a second.”

You waited patiently for him to leave, expecting those words to be enough for him to leave you alone for a few more seconds, but he didn’t. He stood there, in the other corner of the porch looking at you like he had something else to say. You didn’t care, you wanted to not care, it was meaningless.

“Are you… I just, uhm… Are you okay?” He stumbled over his words, but you dismissed the way your heart clenched in response.

“Yoongi…” You groaned, intending to sound annoyed at him, but the name came out of your voice like something intimate, something like a secret, it echoed in the air, resonating with the same tenderness that he pronounced your nickname upon seeing you tonight.

“What? I mean-”

“I’m okay, I’ll be there in an instant.” You interrupted him. He didn’t have another option but to agree.

He made his way to the door, but lingered in there for a moment. With one hand on the doorknob, he glanced longingly at you as if he was expecting you to stop him. “You can go now.” You rushed him.

“I know, I know, sorry.” He said, knowing he was caught. “I’m just glad to see you, that's all.”

Before you even got the chance to curse him, he disappeared through the door like nothing happened, once again.

taglist: @kingofbodyrolls @overtherainbow35 @namin13 @p34rluv @moonchild1 @yoongisoftface @namgihours @honsoolgloss @idkjustlovingbts @yoongisducky @bangtansmauyeondan @tarahardcore @wobblewobble822 @secfir @ot72025 @baechugff @heroinanne @mortal-body-timelesssoul @hiii-priestess @wii-wii @jungkookies1002 @busanbby-jjk @acquiescence804

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carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 7 months

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Steddie Upside-down AU Part 28

Part 1 Part 27

Steve drifts. Time slips. He’s hiding in his closet for the first time, five and small enough that he still fits beneath the hanging clothes without them brushing the top of his head. He’d crawled in after bedtime, the darkness of the small space preferable to the raised voices coming up the stairs.

“If you’re going to be whoring yourself out—” his Mom yells.

“Oh, that’s rich,” his Dad interrupts, words slurring a little like they sometimes do at night before he gets mean.

“—then all I ask is for a little fucking discretion!”

As the voices pass his closed bedroom door, Steve wonders if there really are monsters that hide in kid’s closets at night like Tommy said. He hopes his monster is nice, will maybe play with him until his Mom and Dad go to bed.

He��s thirteen, too old to still be such a baby. But his parents have been out of town for three days on a business trip.

He’s old enough to stay on his own. Can cook his own meals and get himself to school. But the thunder had started, and he’d been crawling into his closet without thinking.

It feels just as safe as it always does.

He’s fifteen, in his closet, pretending not to be home so he doesn’t have to go to another luncheon with his Dad’s business partners, being paraded around like he isn’t a disappointment.

He’s seventeen, pulling a boy in behind him, the world gone wrong around them. Red and empty and hostile. His body feels like one big bruise.

He’s not sure the closed doors will be enough this time.

He’s seventeen and dying alone.

“Three days,” he says aloud, like Eddie’s still beside him and Eddie’s telling him how long they can survive without water.

His pulse is thready, can feel it pulsing in his neck as he coughs. But it’s still there, heart pumping what blood he has left. So, it’s been less than three days.

He stays where he is, hoping he wakes up and he’s back home. Or even that he wakes up and it’s that first night again, Eddie crouching in the closet next to him so he doesn’t have to feel so fucking alone.

Doesn’t want to die, forgotten in a closet, body never recovered. Steve Harrington wants to live. For Eddie. For Will. For himself.

He doesn’t get up. There’s nowhere to go, even if he had the strength to stand.

He drifts.

There’s a girl there. Steve’s not sure when he is, but there’s a girl here. Her eyes look too big in her skull, made even larger by her shaved head. Her pink dress looks dirty, ragged and worn. Steve wonders if he knows her, can’t remember her face.

“You okay?” he asks.

She blinks her big eyes at him, looking sad and confused as she knees down next him in the small space by his side that he’d been saving for Eddie.

“Your friends,” she says, stilted but clear, “they’re coming.”

For the first time, Steve worries that this is now, and she’s here. “Eddie?”

She nods.

“Hurry,” he says, desperate to not be alone. Desperate for Eddie and Will to be here with him. But then he remembers that thing, the way his arms feels numb, his brain fuzzy. The shotgun he’d dropped in the forest.

“Just hold on a little longer, Steve.”

“Wait,” he says, remembering the price of his own desires. “Tell him not to come.”

“Steve?” she asks.

“Don’t come!” he demands, voice cracking. “Okay? Tell him not to come!”

“Steve!” she calls.

Steve blinks, and he’s alone.

Part 29

#steddie upsidedown au #steddie fic #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #my fic #i missed him <3

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littleocean-rose · 10 months

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Our Little Star

Summary: While walking on the way to a pet store to look for a kitten you want to adopt, you trace your hand over your soulmate tattoo on your wrist, the black ink reading one little word on your skin. Byeol. You stare at it, like you’ve done countless times in your life, wondering if you’ll ever meet your soulmate one day.

AU: non-idol, soulmate Pairings: Choi San x reader Warnings: none Word count: 2.1k

A/N: words cannot describe how many people I would kill for Byeol. I love her, I adore, I want to hold and kiss her, she is the most precious baby out there. San I love you but I WILL steal your cat. (jk I’m stealing you both-)

The world was full of different ways for people to meet their soulmate.

Some had it easy. Seeing each other in their dreams, able to communicate their names and location to the other. Dreamers had it the easiest by far, followed by Inkers. Inkers had the ability to communicate to their soulmate by writing on their skin, the words and marks appearing on the others’ skin, allowing them to write down names and numbers and locations. Visionaries were the third lucky ones, getting to see a glimpse of what their soulmate was seeing every now and then, taking in the scenery of where they were, what they were doing.

Others weren’t so lucky. Stringers had that little red thread attached to their pinkies, leading them to their soulmate, but never knowing how close they were to them. For all they knew, that little red string could run across an entire continent or over an ocean. All they knew was what direction their soulmate was in. Phrasers and Tattooists also had it hard. They could go their entire lives without ever meeting their soulmate, hoping to find someone with a matching tattoo, or listening desperately for the words that matched the ink on their skin. Colorists were among that class, too—their world monotone and grey until they finally laid eyes upon their soulmate, their world suddenly bursting into color the moment they found their other half.

Then there were the unlucky ones. Counters, those with timers on their wrists, were ones you always felt bad for. While some times Counters had their timers counting down until the moment they met their soulmate, others had timers that counted down until the moment their soulmate died. There were those who felt their soulmate’s pain, or shared the same wounds as them. Those who bloomed flowers from their skin, flowers that matched the emotions of what their soulmate was feeling. Signs you did in fact have a soulmate but were never given any indication of how they would know they even met them.

You were in the class of Phrasers, your soulmate mark being the first thing you would hear your soulmate say. Some had whole sentences, but you? You had a single word. Byeol. You remembered when you were a child how you obsessed over the word, looking up the definition and seeing it was of Korean origin. So growing up, you learned to speak Korean, studying it every moment you could, until you were fluent in it by the age of thirteen. Your parents encouraged you, just as eager as you to meet your soulmate, and when you hit the age of eighteen, they tearfully drove you to the airport so you could catch your flight to South Korea.

While they supported your decision, they still were sad to see you leaving to live in another country.

It wasn’t like you didn’t visit—you did every chance you could, which was usually every other year, but you were still their only child, and they missed always seeing you in person.

But here you were, nearly seven years later, and you still hadn’t met your soulmate. While it did dampen your spirits, you decided to stop trying so hard to find them. Not because you were quitting and giving up on the idea, no. What was the point of stressing over it? You’d leave it to Fate—if you found them, hey, great! If not, then, well, that didn’t mean you couldn’t start a romance with someone else.

You glanced down at the word again, fingers tracing over the ink as you walked into the pet store. You had recently moved into a new apartment so you could be closer to your job, and you were beyond ecstatic to discover it was a pet friendly home. Wasting no time, you had run out of the house first thing after breakfast on your day off to get yourself a new little companion. While you were originally planning to get one from a shelter, it was on the other side of the city, and you didn’t feel up for the long journey.

Instantly you went to the pets section, face lighting up at the cute animals in their enclosures. You went by the birds, taking a moment to admire their pretty plumage and beautiful songs, and then past the fluffy bunnies. You passed by mice next, stopping to watch them run through their little tubes, and then stopped to watch one of the hamsters run on his wheel. Of course you had to stop and look at the puppies, cooing at how adorable they were, watching them tumble over each other as they played. You had thought about getting a puppy, but in the end you just couldn’t pass up the idea of getting a kitten.

Which was why you were now in front of the cat enclosures. You took the time to look over each cat, aww-ing over their adorable little faces and fuzzy paws that reached out past the bars of their cages. There were some adult cats, a pretty calico catching your eye as you walked by, and then a cute tabby who seemed hyped on caffeine as he bounced off the walls, smacking around one of his toys and making you laugh. Then you reached the kitten area, and your heart melted.

They were at different stages of growth, some bordering on young teen, while others still seemed to wobble a little as they stood. One kitten in particular caught your eye. It was a siamese, large blue eyes staring up at you as it rolled over on its back with a long stretch and yawn, having just woke up from its nap.

One of the employees approached you, a wide smile pulling at his lips. You glanced at his name tag. Wooyoung. “Hello! Did you see someone you wanted to go say hi to?”

You nodded, pointing at the little siamese kitten. “Yeah, if that’s okay?”

The employee nodded. “Yeah, of course! Let me take you in.” Another employee passed the two of you, tall and blonde as he approached another customer that had also been looking at the cat display. You followed Wooyoung to the door where he unlocked it, letting you to get a closer look at the cats. As you entered, a barrage of mewls filled the room, and you couldn’t help but coo at how adorable they all sounded. “Hey guys, we have a visitor! Be on your best behaviors, okay?” Another series of meows filled the air, making the employee grin. “Anyway, go right on ahead and take a look! I’ll be right here to answer any questions you have!”

You thanked Wooyoung, starting with the cages at the back first. You heard the door open again, glancing over to see that same tall employee from earlier enter. “Hey, Yunho! Oh, another person interested in getting a– oh, it’s you again!” You tuned out their conversation, putting all your focus on the cats before you. An orange tabby, curled up into a ball, softly chittered in its sleep, and you nearly had to bite your fist from cooing as to not wake it up from its dream.

You looked over each cat, making your way slowly back to the siamese from earlier, until finally you were standing before its cage. It meowed softly at you, kneading the soft pillow it was sitting on. “She’s only been here a week, that one. She was left at our door in the middle of the night with her siblings in a box. The others have all found homes, she’s the only one left now.”

“Aww, that’s sad. At least they weren’t left on the side of the road or something,” you murmured. Wooyoung nodded.

“Yeah, I’m glad we could find them all good homes.” You heard quiet murmuring from behind you, the employee Yunho talking to his customer. Wooyoung gave a hum. “If you had to name her, what name would you give?”

You thought for a second, looking back into her big blue eyes. You swore you could see stars in her eyes, a hint of a pink galaxy, and one word came to mind. You smiled softly.

“Byeol.”

Your eyes widened, turning around to the other person who had uttered the word. Your focus landed on the other customer, his expression full of shock just like yours. At the same time you both looked down at your wrists, and with a quiet gasp you noticed that your soulmate tattoo was now red. This was him. This was your soulmate. After years of searching, you had finally found him.

You locked eyes with him, taking in his features as he did the same with you. His eyes reminded you of a cat’s, and at the corners of his excited smile were two adorable little dimples that you couldn’t look away from. His hair was pink, and you wondered if that had been the pink you had seen reflected in the kitten’s eyes earlier. You never thought you’d find someone who could rock pink hair so well, and it seemed you were proven wrong in the best way.

“Hi,” he breathed, smile growing, turning his eyes into cute little crescents. It was an absolutely adorable sight, your heart doing a little flip at it. You were sure your cheeks were a light pink, matching his, and you barely registered the fact that Wooyoung and Yunho were quietly squealing to themselves while watching the two of you.

“Hi,” you replied, cheeks hurting from how hard you were smiling. “So, Byeol, huh?”

The male grinned, chuckling lightly as he looked over at the kitten. “Yeah, I swear I saw stars in her eyes.”

“Me too…” You faded off, and the male sheepishly scratched at his neck.

“Sorry. San, my name is Choi San.” He held his hand out to you, and you spotted the red tattoo on his inner wrist. Byeol. You smiled again, taking his hand, noting how small and soft it was, and how perfectly yours fit in it.

You gave him your name, his eyes lighting up. “What a pretty name,” he murmured, cheeks flushing at realizing he said that out loud. You laughed, finding his behavior sweet, warmth blooming in your chest at knowing you’d probably get along with San just fine. He cleared his throat, motioning to the kitten. “Since you’re adopting her, I am demanding visiting rights.”

Amused, you fought down another smile, raising an eyebrow. “Oh? Demanding visiting rights?”

“That’s correct. I’ve had my eye on that little baby since yesterday, but it seems you unfortunately beat me to adopting her. So, therefore, I am demanding visiting rights.”

You gave a thoughtful hum, pretending to think over the decision. You could see San trying to fight down a smile as well, loving how you were playing along. You tapped your chin in thought. “Hm, I think I can allow that. How does Thursday sound?”

“Perfect,” he answered. He pulled out his phone, holding it out to you. “I’m going to need your contact information to know where the visiting rights will be held, and how to get ahold of you for said visits.”

You held out your phone for him to take as you took his. “Of course.” The both of you exchanged contact information, handing each other back your phones, and you couldn’t fight off the smile any more. “San, it’s been an absolute pleasure meeting you.”

“It really has been. I’m so glad I decided to wait until today to come back for Byeol.” He offered you a shy smile. “I’ll… text you later, then…?”

“Please, any time you want.” Your fingers traced over your tattoo. “I’ll see you Thursday the, Mister Choi. With Byeol in tow, of course.”

He laughed, the sound like music to your ears, and you decided you wanted to spend the rest of your life listening to it. He rubbed at his neck again, your eyes flickering over and spotting the smattering of freckles along his skin. Everything about him was so cute. “Alright then. I’ll see you Thursday.” San gave you a little wave as he left the room, and you waved back, watching him leave until he was out of sight. As you gave a happy sigh, the two employees beside you gave quiet squeals.

“Oh my god we must be matchmakers, I have never seen two soulmates meet before in my life!”

“That was so cute, I wanted to scream! You two are so cute!” You blushed at their words, ducking your head as you gave a shy laugh, thanking them. Wooyoung cooed over the moment a little longer before finally moving on to the adoption process for Byeol.

As you walked out the store with your new little friend, you found yourself smiling as you looked at the notification on your phone.

Sannie Hey~

Sannie Be careful with the little star now! She’s our fragile little baby after all!

You shook your head with a laugh.

You couldn’t wait until Thursday came around.

A/N: heeey! Don't worry, I'm still working on Guardians! It's just longer than I expected it to be, and motivation to write has been a little low lately. But! Here's my first tumblr post! Hope it was alright, please leave some feedback if you liked it!

Thank you, have a good night/day everyone! ♡

#choi san x reader #choi san #san x reader #ateez x reader #choi san scenarios #ateez san #ateez scenarios #koikoi works #choi san fluff

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darkwolf989 · 2 months

Note

AWWW I just read your Val & Vox with a little girl and its so so cute!! Can I maybe request a one shot of Vox as a girl's dad too? Like his daughter in life getting to hell in her late teens, and now Vox has to deal with the change in taking care of her because he only knew how to take care of her as a child before he died. Thank youu 💖💙

This request. Could have gone in SO MANY FUN WAYS! Let me know your feedback and thoughts! Enjoy- I can do a part two if you like it!!

I downed my tenth cup of coffee and adjusted myself in my chair. My head pounded and I hoped that just a few more drops of the life-giving liquid would keep the exhaustion at bay long enough to get this project done. I hit the call button on the intercom in my office.

“Charles! Another cup!”

Ten seconds. Enough of a break. I turned my attention back to the document on my computer.

My assistant brought in another cup right away. “Ms. Reader, don’t you think you’re getting carried away?”

“I said coffee. Not lip. Order me a raspberry mocha from the shop down the street and have it here in exactly twenty minutes.” I responded as I continued to type.

He bowed his head. “As you wish. Mr. Vox asked for an update. What should I tell him?”

I paused for a half a moment. “Tell my Dad it will be ready well before the deadline.”

I looked back down and continued to type. It had been a month since I first found myself in hell. It took my father no time to locate me- though his reaction wasn’t what I expected.

“Babygirl, you grew up.” He said as I sat across from him in his perfectly manicured office. A pained expression crossed his face. “Tell me, what did you do in your human life to land you in my office? And so young too…how old are you now? Eighteen?”

Sixteen. I thought to myself. An idea began to form. He didn’t remember my age- that could work to my advantage. After all, acting older than I was was a skill I acquired, and I was more than used to my own independence. I crossed my arms. “Eighteen. I’ve been running your company since I was thirteen.” That much, at least, was true. “What do you think got me here? Your business skills weren’t the only thing I inherited.”

He sighed. “The same thing that brought me here. Fine.”

He reached out to touch my face and I jerked away. He was a stranger to me, gone from my life when I was six. My mother tried to keep his company on Earth going, but she didn’t have the business skills I did. And when she passed the company fell to my hands with contingencies. Overnight I became the voice- the face of the company, running between me and the board.

When I passed she was the first person I looked for. Not that I thought I’d find her- and I was right. She went up, and we went down. My dad and his company found me shortly after, and I wasn’t in the slightest surprised to find he was as much of a go getter down here as he was when he was alive, the sole owner of VoxTech.

But as I sat in his office across from him, memories of him in life blossomed. Soft words. Snuggles. Hugs and kisses. All the comfort that was ripped away the day he left us, left me.

“You’re going to need a place,” he continued. “A place to stay. A job. I can give you all those things. Keep you safe.”

My other option was the streets of hell. An unappealing choice at best. And so, I accepted the role he offered and the responsibilities that came with it. I was determined to show my father that I was a hardworking girlboss, worthy of his faith in me.

“And send,” I said aloud as I finished the final drop of my mocha. My head felt fuzzy and my chest definitely buzzed but it was worth it. I opened my inbox. The time on the clock read ten- I had finished with several days to spare. Might as well keep going.

I didn’t remember falling asleep, but the next thing I knew I startled awake to the feeling of a hand on my wrist.

“Hey, hey baby girl. Take a deep breath, it’s just me.” My dad said.

I shifted and realized he had covered me with his jacket. I tried to sit up and realized I wasn’t in my office anymore. Instead, I laid on the couch in his.

Fuck. The project. Did I submit it?

“Wh-what time is it? I’m late, I still need…” I sat up.

Vox pushed me back down. “No. You need to lay down. You’re exhausted and your pulse is really high. The doctor is on his way up to look at you. When was the last time you went home to bed?”

Three days ago. But I didn’t want to tell him that, so instead I remained silent. Vox let out a soft chuckle.

“You haven’t changed all that much, have you?” He asked as he smoothed back my hair. “You used to do this when you were little too. Play so hard you fell asleep where you were. I used to pick you up and put you to bed, and you were so exhausted you didn’t wake up.”

“Is that how I got here?” I asked.Throbbing pain pulsed through my skull and I closed my eyes as I pressed my head into my hands. “Ugh, my head hurts.”

“Yeah. Your assistant found you passed out on your desk around midnight. He called me right away.” He wrapped a blood pressure cuff around my arm and hit a button. “When was the last time you drank water? Or ate anything?” Concern oozed from his voice. “I found like twenty empty coffee cups in your office.”

“I had coffee. I’m good. Lived on it back home. Live on it here.” I winced as the cuff grew tighter on my arm. “I’m fine, Dad.”

“You’re not. And I want numbers while we wait for the doctor to get here. What were you thinking?” He placed the back of his hand on my head. “Com’on you’re smarter than that.”

I felt my cheeks flush. “I’m not a child, Dad.”

“Maybe not anymore, but you’ll always be my baby,” he replied calmly. “So will you relax and let me be your dad for a moment?”

I relented and let him fuss until the doctor came in. Vox stood with his arms crossed until I got the all clear.

“Just cut down on the caffeine, plenary of fluids, and get a few days of rest, and you’ll be fine in no time,” the doctor said finally. He scribbled a few things on his notepad. “Quick question. How old are you, exactly? Because your father says eighteen, but my records show sixteen.”

I saw Vox turn to look at me, a mix of fury and annoyance on his face. Shit. He grabbed the clipboard from the doctor and scanned the sheet. Realization flooded his face.

“Rest and fluids, that I can do,” I said loudly as I pulled myself up to standing. “Dad, you don’t mind if I cut out a few minutes early, do you?”

Vox swallowed and looked at me. “You told me you were twenty.”

“Actually, I said eighteen.” I replied, “not that it matters.”

“Oh, it does matter.” He said, his voice laced with anger. “You lied to me.”

I shrugged. “I’ve been on my own running your company for three years. But anyway, I’m going home, Dad. See you tomorrow.” I went to walk out the door and he caught my wrist.

“Oh fuck no. You think I’m going to let my teenage daughter waltz out of here after all this? No. You’re coming home with me. End of discussion. And consider yourself suspended from work for the time being.

I felt myself freeze. “You can’t fire me, this is my job!”

He laughed darkly. “Oh honey! You work for me. Consider it your punishment for lying to your Boss.” He stood up. “Let’s go. You’re not staying in that apartment by yourself. You’re sixteen.” He shook his head. “You’re sixteen.”

“Then where am I staying?” I asked, crossing my arms as unease flooded through me.

“Home. With me. Where you belong.” He said firmly as he pressed his hand to my shoulder.

I felt myself deflate but again, seeing no other option, I let him guide me to the elevator. Three floors later, the elevator opened and I followed him into a spacious living room.

“I’ll have your things taken from your apartment and moved into the fourth bedroom,” he said as he gave me the tour.

“I’ve been on my own for a month in hell, and even longer before then,” I protested. “I know how to live by myself.”

He stopped walking and turned his head. “Then I guess it’s about time you learned how to be a teenager then, hm?”

Anger flooded through me. “That isn’t fair! Dad!”

Vox gave me a grin. “There. That’s a great start! But seriously, you’re grounded.”

“You can’t ground me!”

He practically puffed himself up. “You’re sixteen and I’m your dad. Of course I can. And you are.” He pushed open the door “and this is your room. You can redecorate as you please.”

I stepped inside. “Wait, this is my room?”

Easily twice the size of my little apartment, the bed alone took up the center of the room. It’s current color scheme was neutral, with huge windows overlooking the city.

“Yeah, like I said, order whatever you want and I’ll have Velvette…”

“Aunt Velvette?!” I asked, excitement washing over me.

“You remember her?” He asked in a surprised voice. “Do you remember Valentino too?” He leaned against the doorframe and waited for my reaction.

I turned around. “Uncle Val? The badass mafia mobster that used to come over and toss me in the pool when you guys got tired of doing it?”

“Hey, who told you he was a mobster?” Vox asked as I continued to look around the room.

“Mom.”

He sighed. “Of course she did. Well, she wasn’t wrong. But yes. One and the same. We met up in hell and we-“

“Continue to rule together as much as you did in life. Got it,” I replied. “Did you not tell them I was here? In the building this whole time?”

Vox shrugged. “I was hoping to get to know you a bit more before I let them know you were here. But I wanted to give you some time to settle in first. After all, I thought you were an adult. Time…time passes differently down here.”

“Reader? Is that really you?” I heard an excited voice yell from the hallway.

My head turned. I knew that voice. Velvette pushed past Vox and she and Valentino practically ran over to me.

“Aww, my little Princessa! All grown up I see!” My Uncle Val lifted me up and spun me around like I was five. He kissed me on the forehead and set me down.

Shock flooded through my body as I looked at them both in their demon forms. Seeing my Dad with a TV shaped head was one thing- it made sense with what he did. Aunt Velvette still looked the same but Uncle Val? He looked…scarily different. Purple skin, sharp teeth. The only thing that stayed the same was his signature heart shaped glasses.

“Valentino, chill. You spooked her.” Velvette scolded. “It’s been what, how many years?”

“Wait- where is Uncle Al?” I asked

My father glitched. “We don’t talk about him. Not after what he did to me.”

“What did he do?” I asked in confusion.

“Ah, no. Princessa. Baby. You’ll get your daddy all worked up. We don’t want or need that,” Valentino scolded.

I crossed my arms and took a defensive stance. “I’m not five. And I’ve been an adult for a long, long time.”

“Yeah, why don’t you tell us all about that? Over dinner.” Vox said, slinging his arm over my shoulder. “After all, it’s been a long time since we’ve had a family dinner.”

He didn’t know the half of it.

#valentino x reader #the vees #valentino x you #hazbin fluff #hazbin hotel #vox x reader #the vees x reader #valentino hazbin hotel #valentino #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #vox #voxval #vees #vox the tv demon #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel velvette #hazbin velvette

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dilemmaontwolegs · 11 months

Text

The Aftermath || LN4 {13}

Pairing: Lando Norris x widow!reader Summary: Lando is still struggling with his anxiety and it seems to only grows with time as he tried to balance work and parenting. Warnings: 18+ only, hurt/comfort, mentions of dad!PND WC: 3.4K

F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten || Eleven || Twelve || Thirteen || Epilogue

“I thought this was supposed to get easier,” Lando grumbled as you sat in bed, your laptop screen filled with his image. The bright late afternoon sun was streaming through the window in your room but it was night where Lando was in Miami. “I feel like I’m letting everyone down. I can’t concentrate on the race because I’m thinking about you two, and I can’t be at home because of the race…I hate this.”

“I don’t know if it's easier, but I guess it will become a new normal in time. We’ll be with you at the next three races, just have to make it through this one.”

“I need this two week break to hurry up and arrive. I just need to be able to go to put Ren to bed and tuck her in,” startled cries sounded from the cot across the room as Renleigh woke from her nap, “and I need to be there to pick her up when she cries. I think I’m going out of my mind.”

The catch in his voice broke your heart and you grabbed your phone off the bedside so you could message Max. “You don’t know how much I wish I could take away the hurt you’re feeling, Lan. I don’t want you to be alone so Max is getting on the first flight he can. And before you argue, he is happy to do it. We are both worried about you, babe.”

“No offence, love, but I don’t need Max, I need my family.” He dropped his chin onto his hand with a sigh.

“I’m just a phone call away, day or night. But if you want snuggles, Max will have to do for a few more nights.”

You left the laptop for a moment so you could reach into the cot and bring Ren over to see her daddy, waving her little hand to the camera. A smile finally graced his lips as he waved back and leaned closer to the screen to kiss his camera.

Placing her on the bed, you both watched her try to crawl towards Lando. “That’s it, my girl,” he praised as she rocked forward before face planting into the soft blankets. “Getting there, you’ll be racing around in no time.”

“Speaking of racing, you should be getting ready for bed,” you reminded him gently. “Max will be there in the morning to keep you company and you know you can talk to him about anything.”

“You make it sound like I need counselling,” he joked but it fell flat when you shrugged. “I’m fine.”

“Okay, it’s just…your job is already so stressful, then the addition of a baby…it’s a big change and it’s alright to admit that. Dads can get PND too.”

“Really?” His brows pinched together as he fell silent.

“Even if you are fine, I think talking to someone else might still help. Remember when you got me to go to counselling? You said it wasn’t anything to be ashamed of and it isn’t.”

He didn’t look convinced as he muttered, “yeah, maybe.”

“Just think about it,” you suggested as he started to yawn. “And get some rest, babe. I love you.”

You felt like you had come out of hibernation as you sat beside Lando, your fingers entwined as he drove to Imola. Since giving birth you had hardly travelled anywhere, opting to keep Renleigh’s arrival private, so everyone close enough to know about her came to your house to visit her. That would all change on Sunday and to say you were nervous was the mother of all understatements.

Your stomach was tied up in knots just thinking about trying to navigate the busy paddock with your precious baby. Lando had already organised plenty of security to escort you everywhere but your overthinking and paranoia whispered that there were still so many things that could go wrong. It lingered even when you tried to focus on the here and now.

The radio played quietly in the background but it was Ren that you listened to, her babbling in response to Lando’s chattering keeping you both entertained and distracted. You turned in the seat to see her smile in the small mirror and her papaya socks kicking in the air.

“Someone is excited to make her debut,” Lando said with a chuckle. He gripped the wheel with one hand and the other came to rest on your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. There had hardly been a moment where he wasn’t holding some part of you since his return, needing the comfort of your touch to ground himself and suppress his growing anxiety.

This was the most relaxed he had been in months and you smiled back at him, grateful that your husband was returning to his old self.

“Why are you smiling like that?” he asked with a nervous laugh between glances as he drove.

“Do you ever just stop and think ‘I have never been happier than I am at this moment’?” you asked as you traced the beauty spots that dotted his arm like a constellation of stars that would always lead you home. “It’s almost painful how happy I am right now, like my heart is going to burst right out of my chest.”

“Please don’t,” he chuckled, reaching up to stroke your cheek before concentrating back on the road. “That was me this morning, well, every morning I wake up beside you. Seeing the sunlight catch your hair, the peace on your face when you bury it in my neck and snore.”

Ren’s arms startled into the air at the sudden laugh you barked and Lando’s grin grew at the sound of pure, unfiltered joy. “That was almost romantic! You were so close to a blowjob, until you lied.”

“You do snore, and it’s cute!” he stated seriously before casting you a sly smile. “So about that blowjob…”

You leaned over the console and kissed the sharp line of his jaw, tracing the curve to his ear. “Tell me I snore one more time.” He clamped his lips closed and you smirked as you sat back in the seat. “Smart man.”

Lando put the car in park and turned the engine off but made no move to open the door as he sat quietly with his hands still on the wheel. His qualifying had gone great the day before and he was starting the race in P3 but the race was far from his mind as he looked at the high fence ahead, knowing the circuit was just on the other side.

“What if we are doing the wrong thing?”

“Lan, we can’t keep her bubble wrapped for the rest of her life. And we are going to make mistakes, that’s just a fact, but there’s only one way to find out.” You looked out the window and saw a group of men wearing McLaren shirts that showed off their large muscles. “Your papaya army has arrived, and they bought the big guns too.”

Lando snorted and relaxed a little, though the wariness never left his eyes as he unbuckled his seatbelt and stole a kiss. “Thank you.”

Lando’s fingers tightened around yours and he placed his other hand protectively over Renleigh’s back. He had debated putting her into the stroller that remained folded up in the car boot but the need to keep her close made him strap the front pack to his chest. Every few steps his head would dip down and he would place a tender kiss to the top of her head, whispering soothing words that were more for himself than her.

“What’s the weather forecast?” you asked as you tipped your head back to the skies and wondered if you had imagined the kiss of raindrop on your skin.

“Chance of rain, but it should only be light.” He took a look around himself and narrowed his eyes at the grey clouds on the horizon before picking up the pace a little. His quick walk stalled when he reached the paddock gates and patted his pockets for his pass to scan and swore under his breath.

“Looking for this?” you teased as you pulled his pass out of your pocket along with yours.

“Have I told you how much I missed having you here?” he said as he took his pass and scanned it, his photo popping up on the little screen before he stepped through the barrier.

“You may have mentioned it once or twice. Is Maria here already?”

Lando nodded, mentioning he had messaged her earlier and she had already arrived at the track with Zak.

“Maybe grand-mere can look after you for a little while,” you whispered as you tickled Ren’s feet through her socks. “Then mummy and daddy can sneak off to his room for a few minutes.”

“Minutes?” Lando scoffed at the insult and you grinned knowing his competitive side was coming out despite the fact the man’s stamina was far longer.

“If you want to prove me wrong…”

“I’ve done that multiple times a day, for the last two weeks, love,” he smirked as he whispered in your ear as you walked along. “But if your memory is that bad, I’m sure I can remind you.”

Your reply was lost as a huge swell of people came into view through the gaps in the wall of muscle ahead, the chaotic screams suddenly piercing the air as Lando was spotted by the crowd. Your mouth was still parted in shock but the sound of a shaky breath didn’t come from your lips.

“Can we get to the garage, please?” you asked the head of security and he nodded, just as eager to make it through the mass of people.

As effortless as Lando made it seem, he was never truly comfortable in large crowds and the birth of his daughter had only increased his social anxiety. You could feel it now as his palm heated against yours, his skin clammy and grip tightening to an almost painful hold. He was using you to anchor himself and fight back the panic so you bit the inside of your cheek and let him crush your hand.

“Almost there, baby,” you soothed as the men moved to the shape of an arrow that speared the crowd apart.

Cameras flashed and fans screamed as they spotted the baby tucked into Lando’s chest, just the brown tufts of her curls visible. Those too were hidden as Lando cupped the back of her head and hummed a sweet lullaby to distract himself from the questions thrown his way. There was no way he could bring himself to stop and answer any of them until Ren was safely in the McLaren area, he couldn’t risk her safety among the strangers. It was only when he caught sight of the grey and orange coloured motorhome that he could muster up the courage to slip his hand away from yours and offer a small wave.

The fear and reservations you had held never had time to surface while you focused on Lando but when you passed the doors and the outside world was silenced you finally breathed a sigh of relief. “We did it, Lan.”

“I don’t like this,” he admitted as he continued to his driver room. A bassinet was already set up with McLaren blankets and it made his lips twitch into an almost smile as you helped him to take Ren out of the front pack. “I can’t believe she slept through all that.”

He placed her into the bassinet and tucked her in while you wrapped your arms around his waist and kissed his shoulder. You knew it wouldn’t be long until she woke up for a feed as a heaviness ached in your breasts so you had to make the most of the quiet moments while you could, dragging Lando to the couch and forcing him to sit down.

“What’s going on in that handsome head of yours?” you asked as you combed your fingers through his hair and tugged the stands so he looked at you. “Talk to me.”

“I thought having you both here would be easier, but I still feel sick,” he admitted after a minute of drawn out silence. “I need you here, don’t get me wrong, I hated being away from you but now I can't…I don’t even know how to explain it.”

You waited patiently for him to collate his thoughts, holding his hand while he watched Ren sleep peacefully. He longed for that peacefulness too.

“Infinite possibilities, it’s something Andrea gets us to think about when we race. One move can make a difference, one millimetre off the line could be the difference between the fastest lap or ending up in the gravel. Every action has an infinite amount of possibilities and it’s my job to figure out which is most likely to happen.” He took a deep breath from his quiet ramblings and exhaled a long sigh as he slowed down his words. “I can’t stop thinking about the infinite possibilities with Ren. Every bad thing that could happen, everything that could go wrong, I see it in my head. All. The. Time. I can’t stop.”

His words died out with a sob and you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into your embrace as he fell apart. This was the moment you had been expecting, though it was still gut wrenching to witness. All the ups and downs this season had been leading to one cataclysmic peak where he had to release the pent up thoughts he had tried to suppress.

“Do you remember that day at Silverstone, the first time I came back to the paddock?” You knew he was listening by the way he held his breath to silence the sobs that jolted his shoulders. Rubbing his back softly, you kissed his temple and stared at the poster on the wall, seeing how much his face had matured in the last four years.

“When I sat in your room alone it was like time stood still. I had so much time to think that I imagined every horror scenario of you and your car and that fear made my stomach turn. I couldn’t eat anything all day,” you admitted as he pulled back with shimmering eyes and damp cheeks. “But the moment I saw you napping in the cockpit of your car I could finally think again. Not a single one of those scenarios came close to what was actually happening in that moment.”

You wiped his eyes and cupped his face in your hands. “It doesn’t matter that there’s endless possibilities for how the future might go, Lando. All that matters is this moment, and wasting time thinking about things that may never even happen only makes us miss out on today.”

“You aren’t scared we are making the wrong decisions?”

“Of course I’m scared, babe. But I know the man I married and I know that the decisions we make, whether they are right or wrong, come from a good place.” You placed a hand over his heart, feeling the bump under his shirt of the necklace he wore for Ren. “That’s the best any parent can hope for.”

His hand came to rest over yours for a moment before he lifted it to his lips and kissed your wedding ring. “I need to go but I’ll be back before the race starts.”

You nodded as he went to the small bathroom and washed his face, looking clear headed and calm once more. “Are you alright?” you asked as he started to undress and grab his fireproofs from the closet.

He pulled the skin tight material over his head and looked at your reflection in the mirror. “No, but I will be.”

The honesty was more relieving despite his words and you were glad he hadn’t just lied and said he was fine.

With a small smile, he leaned into the bassinet and kissed Ren’s cheek. “I love you, little lady, more than anything in this whole wide world.”

Five years after Imola had stolen your breath away, it had done it again. This time your voice was hoarse from the screams of support and happiness as Lando won the race.

It was as if all the tears ever shed at the circuit were released from the heavens to cascade upon the track with only three laps to go. Max and Charles had just passed the pit entrance before the deluge fell but Lando had made the split second decision to box and change to full wets. He had quickly caught up with the better grip and took the lead when they pitted on the next lap.

You hadn’t been able to move from where you stood rooted on the balcony in front of the home straight. Lando had always been able to dance in the rain, making his car sing in harmony to the beat of the drops on the blacktop. This was his element, but every turn gave you heart palpitations.

Yellow flags flew as some drivers tried their luck with their slicks, praying the rain would pass, only to spin out when they hit a puddle. One rookie aquaplaned off the track, leaving tire ruts in the grass, before rejoining the track and you gasped as Lando had to swerve to avoid him.

“We saw there was a close call on that final turn. How stressful was that?”

“It was scary, so scary. Knowing that my wife was watching just ahead, and seeing that car come right in front of me…my wife and my daughter, they were all I could think about. It’s so wet out there, turn too quick and there’s just no grip, nothing to keep me on the track. I was certain I was gone when that car came at me.”

Lando brushed his cap off and combed his hair as his lips pressed tight to hide the tremble. “It was so scary. You just have no idea what it’s like in those split seconds where you react on instinct and don’t know if you have just saved your life or forfeited it. It’s a risk, and I used to find it fun when I was younger but not now. I have too much to risk now.”

You cradled Ren closer as the McLaren team let you through to the front of the barrier. You hadn’t planned on stepping out of the motorhome but Lando was clearly not okay and you needed to get to him.

“It’s hard to be excited over winning when I thought I had just about made my wife a widow again, or that my daughter was going to grow up and not know me,” he said, answering another question that you had missed as you navigated your way out of the garage. “As much as I love this sport, and I am grateful for all the people who have helped me to get to where I am, I love my family more.”

He seemed to sense you in the crowd and Renleigh started to cry in your arms as you reached the barrier. The reporter followed him as he crossed the short distance and pressed his sweaty forehead to yours. “I’m going to be alright,” he whispered for only you to hear before he took Ren, who instantly settled on his shoulder, as the crowd ‘awww’d at the sight.

“I have been thinking hard about this for the last few months,” he continued as he gently bounced Ren back to sleep, “but this will be my last season in Formula One. I have always put 100% into what means the most to me and I haven’t been able to do that with racing taking me away from my family.”

The shock that rippled through the crowd and stunned the reporter into silence didn’t reach you. You had seen the look in his eyes when he parked in front of the 1st place signage and pulled his helmet off. He hadn’t thrown his hands in the air, he hadn’t waved to the crowd or his team. He had fallen to his knees and ripped his gloves off to feel the solid ground beneath his palms as the rain continued to fall.

The microphone shifted to you as you watched Lando hold Ren tighter and brush his lips over her dark curls. “It must have been harrowing to watch that last lap, especially since it wasn’t far from where you laid a wreath earlier today.”

“I trust every decision Lando makes. I knew he would make it through,” you said with a reassuring smile to your husband as you clutched the necklace that held your first wedding ring. “And every year when I visit I ask René to watch over him. Maybe he was listening all this time.”

Click here for the epilogue.

Tagging: @yunnie-f1 @neiich @zendayabelova @stillbreathin @dr3lover @writerscurse @christianpulisic10 @alwaysclassyeagle @alexisquinnlee-bc @purplephantomwolf @lightsoutletsgo @pleasantducktimetravel @pierre-gasllllllyyyyyy @holy-macncheese-balls @belennasif @ophcelia @love4lando @ryiamarie @mickslover @tyna-19

#lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 rpf #f1 fanfic #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fanfiction

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elliesbelle · 1 year

Text

nobody compares to you

chapter 5

pairing: ellie x reader

synopsis: you're in your junior year of college and at a party, you run into the girl who broke your heart: ellie williams. despite the time it took to reset your life, will you risk a broken heart again for her?

content warnings: modern college au, cursing, angst, slight slut-shaming, brief mention of death, minors do not interact

word count: 2.3k

chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen

series masterlist

my masterlist

i have a ko-fi if you like my work so much that you feel compelled to tip me ♡︎

the "nobody compares to you" spotify playlist

featuring the isa song “sometimes you lose your soulmates”

Present Day

Though you didn’t exactly enjoy Mondays, it was at least the one day of the week when you got to wake up naturally instead of at the crack of dawn. Your first class isn't until noon, so when you wake up at 9:30 in the morning, you decide to get your day started early.

You weren’t always the type of person to completely do themselves up just to go to class. Maybe in freshman year for the first few weeks, but you were a seasoned vet now. Most of the time, some leggings and a simple shirt or sweater sufficed. But after such a shitty weekend, you figure you could at least make yourself feel good by looking good.

After half an hour of getting ready, you look yourself over in the bathroom mirror. You smile, fairly satisfied with your appearance. Despite the cold breezes of Saturday night, the forecast called for a rare warm day. As a result, you allowed yourself a floral sundress, decorated with a puffy knitted, button-up jacket on top of it in case the season’s true weather decided to show. A pair of simple white sneakers finished your outfit; not the most stylish, but practically, you still had to walk around campus.

Your lips shine from the bit of lip gloss you’d applied. You’d only applied some light mascara on today (you figured that your Literature and Sexuality class did not warrant your bold, false eyelashes). You’d lightly painted your eyes with colours that complemented those of your sundress, blending them seamlessly onto your eyelids. As you did this, that one memory that was prodding you two days ago became clearer.

“I have no idea how you do that so naturally, dude.” Ellie’d said, watching you in awe from the foot of your bed.

Her ocean green eyes watched the meticulous strokes of your makeup brush applying eyeshadow to your lids. It was early on in your “friendship” and it was still a couple more weeks of her calling you “dude” before you became “babe” and “baby.”

“It’s not that hard, honestly. Just takes some practice.” You’d said, trying to keep your hand steady as you grew nervous under Ellie’s watchful gaze.

“Nah, it’s natural talent. You’re an artist.” She’d replied.

You’d scoffed, saying, “Ellie, all I’m doing is my makeup. You’re the actual artist, remember?”

“No,” She’d shaken her head. “I just draw. You’re the artist here.” She’d said decidedly, eyes full of admiration as she continued to stare.

You’d blushed furiously then, and you would continuously do so when you’d replay that memory the months following after.

But it was two years later and now, the memory instead has you staring at your reflection tight-lipped and frowning.

Why is she still everywhere?

It was roughly a fifteen to twenty-minute walk from your apartment to the university. You lived in an off-campus apartment complex that was in a decent location from both the school and a downtown area nearby. It was less convenient than living on campus like several of your friends still did, and this certainly wasn’t what you’d had in mind when you were planning out your social college experience. But after the freshman year events of Rafael’s death and Ellie’s abandonment, you were far more comfortable where you were.

You liked walking anyway. You found solace in the strolls you took, accompanied only by your thoughts and headphones.

About five minutes into your trek to campus, you pull out your phone to text your friend Tara.

A couple of minutes later, you were just officially entering the campus when Tara texts you back.

You continue walking as you frown down at your phone. Dina had spent most of the previous day at your place, cheering you up and taking your mind off Ellie. Your group chat with your other friends was blowing up and by the end of the night when Dina had left, you were overwhelmed by the amount of unread texts you had. The group chat remained unopened until right now.

The chat consisted of your friends Tara, Sidney, Astrid, Rebecca, Kristen, and Mina. You’d met them all in freshman year. Tara was your assigned roommate and Astrid was Dina’s. They were all initially casual friends, ones that you saw on a usual basis and got along well with, but they weren’t necessarily very close. You were better friends with the gang from Jackson. But after you came back to campus for sophomore year, you detached yourself slightly from Dina and Jesse, knowing full well that Ellie had them first. They both tried to remain closer to you; but they remained inseparable from their childhood best friend, not fully knowing what events led to what “broke up” you two. It wasn’t the same and it was a much different dynamic with this other friend group, but the girls were there for you all the same.

Reluctantly, you click on the group chat named “Wilson Crew ❤️‍🔥” (Wilson Valley had been the name of the freshman dorm building most of you had resided in the first year). Scrolling up to where you’d left off, you scan the messages your friends had left the previous day. Your eyes grow wider and wider the more you read.

The previous day, Tara, who worked at a campus coffee shop called Ruston Coffee, was tasked to train a new girl. To her, your other friends’, and now your shock, the new girl Tara was training was Freshman Girl. The same Freshman Girl who stayed glued to Ellie’s side for most of Saturday night. The same Freshman Girl who drooled over Ellie’s every word and move. The same Freshman Girl that mistook your Ellie’s signature lavender-laced joints as lilac. The same Freshman Girl who wore Ellie’s old motorcycle jacket the entire night.

It turned out Freshman Girl did have a name: Daniela. Your friends had sent messages with different levels of shock and horror. Kristen called her a whore, to which Sidney agreed, to which Astrid reprimanded and told them both to be nice. Mina sent memes as a response. Tara also texted that Daniela would be working with her again today.

You look up. Ruston Coffee is just down the way. You don't have to go in. You can skip coffee for today and hide out in the library instead.

“I’m not expecting you and Ellie to magically make up. I won’t try to get into the middle of it because I know that’s between you two. But you definitely need to figure out this out, babe. This doesn’t seem like something that should remain unresolved.” Dina’d said.

“But don’t also let it affect all the other parts of your life, okay?" She continued. "She shouldn’t be stopping you from hanging out with me and Jess more often or going out to parties we’re at or anything that involves Ellie in some way. Don’t let her stop you from enjoying your life.”

And Ellie certainly shouldn’t stop you from getting coffee. If you want to get a coffee and relax before class, Ellie should not be getting in the way of that.

You take a deep breath and march towards the coffee shop, fingers gripping tightly onto the straps of your backpack and feet stomping in rhythm to good 4 u by Olivia Rodrigo blasting loudly through your headphones.

A bell above the door tinkles as you enter Ruston Coffee. The shop was a little busy, most seats taken up by other students sitting with their laptops or biding time before class. There's a line of people by the register and you begin approaching it until you hear your name being called.

Your friend Tara waves you over by the counter where orders are usually dropped off. In one of her hands is a straw and your ready-made mocha frappe.

“You’re the literal best, Tara.” You sigh, pulling your headphones off and walking up to her.

She hands you your coffee order.

“No problem.” She says, smiling. “You know that I don’t mind.”

“Thank you for indulging in my caffeine addiction,” You say, whipping out your phone and sending her $6.

Tara frowns and says, “You better not have given me a $3 tip this time.”

You sip from your straw.

“Dude!” Tara reprimands, laughing.

“$2 tip!” You say, defensively.

“Just for a $4 coffee.” She chides, shaking her head.

You shrug.

“So uh,” Tara begins, her voice lowered slightly. “Did you see what I said in the group chat yesterday? Cause you weren’t responding.”

You gulp.

“Uhh. Yeah, I did, just now. Sorry, Dina was at my place yesterday, so I was busy—”

“Nah nah, it’s cool, man. But like. You saw what I said about that girl, right?”

“Is she here?” You ask, chewing the inside of your cheek.

“Not yet. But—” Tara checks her watch. “—she’s supposed to be here in less than five minutes or so.”

Fuck.

“Oh, okay.” You gulp, your heart rate increasing.

“Are you okay, dude?” Tara asks.

“No, yeah, I’m fine.” You lie. “How did training her yesterday go?”

Tara crosses her arms and rolls her eyes.

“Literally the worst. She kept on looking at her phone instead of listening, she left one AirPod in her ear the whole time, she kept asking when we were gonna be done. And now I have to go through it all again once she gets here.”

You give Tara a sympathetic look.

“I hate that,” You say, sucking on your teeth. “Can’t you just, I don’t know, not hire her?”

“We’re short-staffed as fuck, so we don’t have much of a choice.” Tara sigh.

One of Tara’s co-workers comes up behind her and attempts to elbow her ribs which she dodges easily.

“Get back to work, Maclay.” He says, putting down two cups of coffee next to her before heading back towards the register.

“Fuck off, Khanh!” She replies, shooting a middle finger to his back.

“Should I let you get back to work?” You ask.

“Nah,” Tara reassures. “I wanna shit talk this Daniela girl first before I have to deal with her this morning.”

“Do you know how often she’s gonna be working with you?” You inquire.

“I’m not sure yet, but if Bonnie thinks she’s gonna stick me with a lazy new girl this early in the year—”

You hear the bell above the door tinkle as someone enters the coffee shop. Both you and Tara look instinctively at the new arrival. Tara groans silently and your throat goes dry.

Freshman Girl Daniela walks in. Wearing Ellie’s jacket once again.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Crap, I gotta go now, I guess.” Tara whines begrudgingly.

“Y-yeah…” You say, unable to take your eyes off of that same jacket that used to often adorn your shoulders back in your freshman year. You hate that it looked good on Daniela.

“I’ll see you later, dude.” Tara says, wrenching her elbows off the counter and walking towards the register.

“Good luck.” You reply.

You aren't exactly subtle with your stare, but thankfully Daniela doesn't seem to notice. It's a little different seeing her now in the daytime. She was very pretty, you have to admit to yourself. She has a short, pixie cut that complements her sharp bone structure. She's wearing a bright yellow tank top below Ellie’s jacket that clings to her lean figure, making her stand out slightly. The light makeup she has on looks so simple and natural.

Daniela wasn’t Ellie’s first conquest since you ended things with her. She didn’t waste much time dating around after you all came back for your sophomore year. You’d avoided her as much as possible so you wouldn't have to come face-to-face with the girls she’d get involved with. You still heard about them, of course, and you were sure there were even more than the ones you’d known about.

But Daniela was the first you were forced to encounter. You weren’t prepared to be thrust right into Ellie’s love life once more. But here you are, staring at the most recent fling of the girl who you were once so desperately in love with.

As Daniela lazily makes her way through the shop towards the back, you eventually tear your eyes off her and head straight for the exit.

♫ Maybe she’ll come through / If he waits some more

But she doesn’t / No, she doesn’t ♫

You're leaning against one of the trees in the quad, backpack laid next to you and headphones back on your ears. Your next class is in the building right behind you, but you still have a while until it started.

♫ It’s not like the movies / Like you dream it’ll be

Sometimes you lose your soulmates / And sometimes they leave ♫

Your journal and pen are laid out on your lap but abandoned as your fingers pick at the grass around you. Your mostly empty coffee cup sits next to you, condensation dripping into the soil. Your eyes are completely glazed over, watching the clouds in the sky.

♫ She’s not a girl you forget / She’ll run through your head

With all of the moments / You loved but now dread

To remember / Burning like—♫

Your hands and voice react quicker than your mind does. Your sudden movements cause your headphones to fall onto your neck. After a second, you realize that you had shrieked and that your hands had flown up to your face to catch something. As you bring the object down to look at it, you realize it was a football.

“Shit! I’m so sorry!”

You look up to see a tall girl in a dark t-shirt and grey sweatpants jogging towards you, a dirty blonde braid bouncing behind her.

“Abby?”

author's notes:

sorry for the delay in uploading this! i'm back from my brief vacation, and after i settled in after getting home, i almost immediately plopped down in front of my laptop to finalize this ldksfjsdlkds

not very chockful of ellie in this chapter, i know, i'm sorry! y'all got plenty last chapter! but don't worry, more will be coming up soon. i just enjoy keeping y'all in suspense.

i just wanna mention that most (if not all) of the names that i use in this fic are picked out people in the games themselves. also tara's last name is maclay as an homage to my lesbian queen tara maclay from buffy the vampire slayer. she's not the same character obvi, but i just enjoy putting in the reference :)

freshman girl aka daniela may have been named after and based on some whore girl that my ex left me for and that i'm still bitter about it oops

i hope y'all enjoyed the surprise guest appearance at the end of this chapter! she will be integrated further into the story from this point on, so stayed tuned :)

taglist: @lonelyfooryouonly, @elliesinterlude, @sawaagyapong, @peppesgirl, @iconsoft, @maybeidohaveadhd, @ellieswifee, @valiantllamapersonpony-blog, @nil-eena, @echostinn, @uraesthete, @softbunlvr, @cherriessxinthespring, @amitycat, @chrissyfishywissy, @yevheniiaaa, @machetegirl109, @bertandfearnie, @ximtiredx, @efam, @elliesnoviecita, @oatmilkchaii, @tayyyystan, @emothurman, @livvy-2000, @abigaillovestoread, @gold-dustwomxn, @liabadoobee, @yuckyfucky

#nobody compares to you series #ellie williams #dealer!ellie #ellie x reader #ellie x you #ellie x y/n #the last of us #tlou #the last of us part 2 #tlou2 #ellie fanfiction #Spotify #audio #belle speaks #v #belle writes

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pippytmi · 3 months

Text

kacy + a break-up AU based on this prompt list: "you’re my emergency contact and i’ve been in an accident so you drop everything to come to the hospital"

———————————————————————

The thing no one says about breakups is that they're an utter inconvenience.

Kate tries to rationalize it; she was dating Lucy Tara for twelve months and thirteen days, it's only natural to have established a routine that will take some time to unlearn. So when she wakes up and reaches for a warm body that isn't there, it still takes a while to remember why. And when she makes her morning coffee, maybe sometimes she will pour the creamer that Lucy likes by accident. (By the end of the week, she will have to pour the whole container down the drain). That’s normal too. Mostly.

Lucy’s absence hits the most in the morning, but Kate goes through the motions anyway. Before Lucy she would always take her coffee outside and sit on the balcony to watch the sunrise, so she still does it. Of course now there’s no Lucy wrapped up in a blanket and insistently making her way onto Kate’s lap to sleep while she does it, but. Kate sips from her mug and watches the clouds roll in over the gloomy horizon and pretends nothing has changed.

The drive to work is quiet save for the gentle patter of rain against her windows. Her radio is still set to the station Lucy likes, and Kate hasn’t managed to change it. Baby steps—that’s all it takes. Maybe tomorrow Kate might have the courage to switch it back to her own.

And when everything at home is too loud and simultaneously too empty, there’s work. Kate gets to her desk and finds a mountain of files with new assignments, and she welcomes them with open arms; her work has always been separate from Lucy, and it's the one constant she doesn't need to readjust to.

For a blissful hour and a half, Kate is in her own world. She argues with a client about what confidentiality means (and what it doesn't). She reschedules the deposition of a plaintiff on a particularly high-profile case because opposing counsel has accidentally double-booked. She creates an Excel spreadsheet to keep track of her new cases but organizes the clients by market value.

By all accounts, her morning is shaping up considerably. That is, until her cell phone starts buzzing.

She ignores the first call from the unknown number flashing on the screen. Instead, she gets coffee from the awful machine in the break room. The second call comes thirty minutes later, and Kate ignores it again, spends her time politely explaining how to use the fax machine to her confused new paralegal.

When her phone rings a third time—just as Kate has gotten out of a grueling meeting with the senior attorneys which should've been an email—she answers it solely for peace of mind: “This is Kate.”

There's a brief shuffle on the other end. “Hi, I'm calling from St. Joseph Hospital for a Katherine Whistler?”

“Speaking,” Kate says curtly, prepared to give a spiel about how she won't donate at this time when the caller continues,

“Oh—good morning.” More shuffling. “Is this a good time? I have a sensitive matter to discuss.”

Kate frowns even if the person on the other line can't see it. “Yes, it's fine,” she says, and watches as her work phone lights up with another call that she will just have to return later.

“I'm calling on behalf of a patient: Lucy Tara. She has you listed as her emergency contact. She is unresponsive and we were wondering if you could come in to discuss the particulars of her care…”

The rest of the call is static. Kate almost drops her phone entirely, only grasping onto select words like they're a lifeline. Lucy is alive. Lucy is hurt. Lucy was found unconscious. Lucy has yet to wake up. Lucy is alive.

Kate doesn't even tell anyone she's leaving; she just goes. Later, senior attorney Michael Curtis will tell Kate that she looked extremely pale and sickly when rushing out of the office, but Kate will only remember a vague blur from that phone call to actually arriving at the hospital. It might be the most reckless thing she’s ever done, come to think of it.

Dr. Carla Chase is the physician assigned to Lucy’s care, and she takes one look at Kate and blinks as if surprised to see her. “Forget an umbrella?”

“I'm sorry?” Kate says, heart caught dangerously high in her throat. She's literally choking on worry—Dr. Chase’s words don't sink in until she takes a step forward and realizes she is currently dripping all over the linoleum floor.

Dr. Chase gives her a small, sympathetic smile. “Let me ease your mind,” she says. “Ms. Tara woke up. Our timeline is good, she was not unconscious for long. Has a concussion and a nasty bump, but she's going to be just fine.”

Kate breathes. “Oh,” she says shakily, and embarrassingly, hot tears spring to her eyes at the confirmation. “That's…great. Thank you.”

“You can come inside, see her. I'll go find you a towel.” Even though Kate is a sopping mess, Dr. Chase still pauses to place a hand on her shoulder and squeeze reassuringly.

Even with the worst over, the hardest part is still walking into the room—harder still is watching as Lucy looks up with those wide, curious eyes that become expressionless the instant she sees Kate.

“Kate? What are you doing here?” Lucy asks, voice not quite harsh but definitely not welcoming.

Kate opens her mouth, but is unable to form words. She's too stuck just staring at Lucy: at the bruise that colors the entirety of the swell of her cheek, at the large bandage over her jaw, at the purpling of her black eye. Any relief at knowing that Lucy is awake sinks into horror at the state of Lucy’s injuries.

“Kate,” Lucy repeats, frowning. “Why do you look like someone died?” A beat. “And why are you wet?”

“The—the hospital called me,” Kate manages. “Are you okay? How are you…how are you feeling?”

“I'm fine. I just fell down a stupid mountain.” Lucy smooths down her blanket, twisting the corner between her fingertips the way she does when she's uncomfortable.

“A mountain?”

“It's not as dramatic as it sounds,” Lucy says. “Kai and I were searching for a missing kid and we got separated, and with the rain it was muddy and foggy and…well, you get it.”

“And he left you there? Unconscious?” Kate has met Kai Holman once or twice, and knows very little about him except that just like Lucy, he volunteers for search and rescue missions to escape his normal job. Beyond that, Kate’s opinion of him is quickly going downhill.

“He wasn't there when it happened,” Lucy argues. “I already texted him and explained, but, I told him he didn't have to come see me or anything.” She stops. “So why did you come?”

“Because the hospital called,” Kate says again, which is pretty self-explanatory.

Apparently, Lucy does not feel the same way. “But you didn't have to answer the phone,” she points out. “We’re not together. You could've just said ‘sorry, she’s my ex’ and called it a day.”

Kate stiffens. “You're the one who has me as your emergency contact. It was the…decent thing to do,” she says.

Lucy rolls her eyes. “Okay, congratulations,” she says, “you have done your civic duty of not being an asshole. But I’m alright, so you can go back to deep-sea diving in your pantsuit or whatever you were up to before this.”

“Hold on,” Kate says, a flare of panic overtaking any objection she might have to Lucy’s disdain (which is completely unwarranted, by the way). “How are you getting home?”

“They’ve invented a modern miracle called an Uber, not sure if you heard.” Lucy waves her phone exaggeratedly. “I’ll survive.”

It's an out, and Kate should take it. She should walk out that door and never look back, let all the unsaid issues between them continue to morph and mutate into something ugly and irreversible. But she can’t.

“I’ll drive you home,” Kate says at last.

Lucy immediately shakes her head. “That’s not necessary,” she says. “Seriously. If you’re that against Ubers, I can call Kai and get him here in two seconds. He’d be more than happy to take me home.”

“That would be unnecessary. I’m already here.”

“And you don’t have to be,” Lucy reiterates, staring Kate down like she expects her to cave.

If it were any other situation, Kate would. She's soaked head to toe from the rain, she has no obligation to be here, and by all accounts either reason would be a rational excuse to extradite herself from this hospital. Especially the former—the chill of her wet clothes is finally beginning to catch up to her, and she blindly brushes back her damp hair while resisting the urge to shiver. It would be the rational decision to go home and change into warm clothes (and explain to her boss why she left without as much as a text explaining why).

But for once in her life, Kate isn't being rational. “I'm not leaving,” she says, crossing her arms in an attempt to look firm.

Lucy sighs, sagging backwards against her pillow. “Come on, Kate,” she says. “This is awkward enough. I don't need a babysitter after one tiny little fall.”

“Down a mountain,” Kate says, unable to let that fact go. “What do your parents think about this?”

“I…might've not told them. Exactly.” Lucy bites her lip in an obvious effort not to wince. “I asked for the day off when I woke up, so.”

Kate blinks. “You woke up after a traumatic fall,” she says slowly, “and…asked your parents for PTO.”

“I wouldn't call it traumatic. That's such an ugly word. Limiting, even,” Lucy says. “It would've been a total badass move if it hadn't been, you know, raining.”

A knock against the wall announces Dr. Chase’s arrival, who has thankfully brought Kate that towel. “How are we doing?” she asks.

“Ready to get out of here,” Lucy says, sitting up eagerly. “Whenever you say so, doc.”

“Well, I really would recommend a CT scan to be on the safe side,” Dr. Chase says. “But given that you've passed all our cognitive tests and your vision is good, I can consider a discharge…as long as you have someone at home to monitor you today and make sure no further symptoms arise. And no sleeping until your normal bedtime.”

“I’ll be with her,” Kate interjects as she towels off her hair. Lucy looks like she might argue, but her desire to leave must win out, because she doesn't speak up.

“Fantastic. Let me get your discharge paperwork and a prescription for some painkillers—all over the counter. Then we're going to have a serious discussion about what you should and should not do, okay?”

“Got it. Thanks, Dr. Chase,” Lucy says cheerfully, but the instant the doctor leaves, so does her smile. “What was that? You obviously can't stay with me.”

“I know,” Kate says defensively, even if—for a second—she had been completely prepared to. “I'm sure Ernie or Jane can monitor your symptoms just fine.”

“...yeah,” Lucy agrees slowly, as if she had been expecting Kate to argue. Then, “Oh, shit. I actually forgot to tell Jane I'm here.” She frantically opens her phone and starts texting up a flurry, her brow crinkling as she concentrates on her screen, and Kate is brought back to movie nights spent scouring Wikipedia articles and faux-arguing over date night picks and it's…too much.

This is the opposite of unlearning; this is an all too painful reminder that Lucy Tara is no longer in her life. Kate wrings the damp towel between her hands and takes a deep breath to save face. At the very least, Lucy doesn't seem to have caught on to Kate’s internal turmoil, because when she looks up again all the cheerfulness from before is back.

Kate knows in that instant she never wants Lucy to lose that cheer again. “Everything okay?” she asks, aiming for just-polite-enough interest, and Lucy is gracious enough to allow it.

“They found the missing girl,” Lucy says, sagging backwards in obvious relief. “Thank God.” When she smiles, even if it’s down at her phone, Kate nearly tears up all over again.

“That’s great.” Kate clears her throat, places her hands in her (wet) pockets, and tries very hard to act casual. “So is Jane going to stay with you, then?”

“No—she’s the one who found the kid, she has to stay and give the police a statement,” Lucy mutters, biting her lip distractedly as she types out another message. “I’ll see what Ernie’s up to.”

By the time Dr. Chase comes back with discharge paperwork and a spiel about avoiding screens (during which Lucy noticeably peeks at Kate, like she might rat her out), Kate has already resolved herself to zero interference. Obviously it’s not what she wants, but she listens to Dr. Chase and nods along at all the right times while in her head she is already drafting a very long message to Ernie with all the relevant information. Then she drives Lucy home to that bleak apartment that Lucy lives in mostly as a general “fuck you” to her parents, which Kate swears is either haunted or infested by very spirited roaches.

The entire ride there, Lucy doesn’t say anything about the car’s radio being set to her favorite station (and which Kate would always complain about), which is just as well. Kate isn’t sure how she would’ve explained it.

“This not sleeping thing sucks, I’m honestly dead tired with our without a concussion,” Lucy groans as she exits the vehicle, stretching her arms overhead.

Kate follows her outside, and when Lucy gives her a questioning look, she says, “Ernie’s not here yet, is he? I can at least wait with you until he does.”

“I’m sure I can survive thirty minutes alone, Kate,” Lucy says. “I won’t pass out the instant you walk away or anything.”

“I’d really rather wait,” Kate says, and Lucy sighs.

“Fine. God, I would’ve changed my emergency contact ASAP if I’d known you would be such a stickler for lame hospital rules.” Lucy wraps herself up in a large black hoodie which Kate recognizes as her own, still muddy from the fall but otherwise intact.

“Why did you?” Kate finds herself asking, mouth three steps ahead of her head, and Lucy pauses outside her apartment door.

“You mean why didn’t I change it? Because I forgot, I wasn’t exactly expecting to land in the hospital.”

“No, why…why did you make me your emergency contact in the first place?” Kate clarifies, her voice strangely quiet even to her own ears.

Lucy methodically unlocks her door, but her hands falter. “Just because,” she says at last. “You know how it is. Anything was better than my parents. Sorry I didn’t…ask you first.”

“Well, I mean,” Kate shrugs, “I didn’t ask you either.”

At that, Lucy whirls around, mouth agape. “You made me your emergency contact?”

Kate hesitates. “Yes? After like six months. It was a practical decision, we spent pretty much all our time together and I assumed…”

Somehow, she’s said the wrong thing, because Lucy’s eyes darken. “Right.” She moves away, digging through her fridge in search of something to drink, and Kate awkwardly leans against the kitchen counter and tries to make sense of what’s going on.

“Did you eat anything today?” Kate attempts to change the subject. “I can make you something before Ernie gets here.”

Lucy takes a gulp of a water bottle and doesn’t respond, just eyes Kate from across the kitchen with a sharp, unyielding glare. Finally, the words seem to burst out: “I wish you weren’t so—fucking—” She shakes her head. “Do you even know how you sound, sometimes? No girl wants to hear that they’re the practical choice. Just once, I wish you’ve would picked me because you wanted me.”

Kate feels her entire body prickle, partly in shock and partly in indignation. “What are you talking about? I did pick you.”

“Did you?” Lucy tilts her head. “”Cause it kind of feels like you picked the idea of me. At least, that’s how Cara tells it.”

“Seriously? Cara? She—” Kate pauses to exhale, swallows back a frustrated sob. “She’s wrong. I’ve never trusted anyone like I trust you. Fuck, I’ve never loved anyone like I love you.” This time, her voice quivers like the sob might escape, and some of the steel in Lucy’s gaze softens.

“Then why did you leave?”

“I thought that was what you wanted,” Kate says. “You were pushing me away, Lucy. What was I supposed to think?”

“You should’ve fought harder for me,” Lucy says. “You could have talked to me. Jesus, Kate, I don’t—I can’t have this conversation right now. I’m basically a prisoner in my house, this is the last thing I need.”

Kate’s shoulders fall. “I know,” she says. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t do that either,” Lucy snaps, and she chugs the remainder of her water before she stalks out of the room. “No apologies. Okay?”

“Okay.” Kate waits to see if Lucy will come back to the kitchen, but she doesn’t. Instead, she hears the tell-tale sound of Lucy banging around through her board game drawer, because the chess set Ernie gave her rattles and gives it away. Kate tentatively enters the living room, finds Lucy sorting through a Monopoly box, but doesn’t try to say anything else.

Lucy breaks the silence all on her own, eventually. “I have nothing to cook,” she says. “But I asked Ernie to bring food with him.”

“Alright.” Kate doesn’t sit down because her clothes are still damp, but she does wait by the couch. “Can I help with anything?”

“No.” Lucy is sitting cross-legged on the floor and carefully stacking Monopoly money into piles by color, her muddy hoodie occasionally smearing against the carpet. “I’m fine.” She obviously isn’t; her jaw is clenched, her back stiff, her entire demeanor still a perfect mirror of her anger.

Kate wisely doesn’t push. And when Ernie arrives carrying Thai food and a thick stack of books which Lucy is outwardly horrified at, Kate doesn’t try to stay.

“I’m going to send you the doctor’s discharge instructions,” she tells Ernie instead, as Lucy gingerly pokes through one of the books Ernie has handed off. “Make sure Lucy eats something before she takes her meds.”

“On it, Dr. Whistler,” Ernie says seriously, his voice going low so Lucy can’t hear afterward. “And thanks, for being there. Even if you two aren’t…”

Kate casts one final look at Lucy Tara, bundled up in her clothes and adorably pouting at the prospect of reading all night instead of playing board games, and feels her heart beat so hard it hurts. “Take care of her,” she says, but it’s not a request.

Ernie gives her a small, sad smile. “I will.”

Lucy doesn’t say goodbye, but she does spare Kate one brief, sorrowful once-over like she wants to. Kate memorizes that look—lets it linger in the back of her mind—and doesn’t cry until the first cheery pop song from Lucy’s favorite station starts playing on the drive home.

She hits the button to turn off the radio altogether, but her finger slips and she accidentally switches stations instead. Kate eases the car to a stop at a red light, watches as rain begins to drizzle once more, and then she makes the executive decision to switch it back.

Baby steps.

#something about these two & their exes era....they have me in a chokehold im ngl #kacy #kate x lucy #ncis hawaii #i listened to 'emergency contact' by PTV a million times writing this btw. song of all time #i need a fic tag

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misc-obeyme · 7 months

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You know what time it is.

Lesson 33 spoilers, including the hard lesson, here we go!

I am pleased. And I am not pleased.

I had so many great moments with all my faves. Solomon being there for me, Levi being a lil cutie, THIRTEEN DATE, Barbatos giving me lil Ds. What glorious moments. I shall share some screenshots momentarily.

BUT FIRST.

Belphie. What the fuck.

Technically, this is Mammon’s fault. He was the one who was like it’s not wrong to feel upset about it and like yeah he’s right, but Belphie is clearly taking that statement to an EXTREME.

We are dealing with YANDERE BELPHIE, my friends.

If I remember correctly, he was always supposed to be yandere. So now we’re really leaning into that, huh? Like straight up, I am going to keep you here forever because you’ll be happier with me than if you leave. Our boy’s gone a little off the deep end lol. I kinda love it.

Though I was really surprised by his final line of “I don’t want you to see what’s inside my head.” He seemed really concerned about it. Considering all we’ve seen already, it can’t be that bad, right? Then again, I wouldn’t want anyone I know to get inside my head, either. Please stay out, you don’t need to see the horrors, thanks.

Also, we still haven’t made a pact with Levi. Just like we didn’t actually make a pact with Beel. Is it because now they’re not sure they want to have pacts with us because of the whole needing magic to get back to the human world thing? I swear I have a memory of Solomon telling us that we could make pacts with all of the brothers at the same time. But we already have pacts with three of them? So why would we only make pacts with three or four of them at the same time? I’m so confused. Someone please share your thoughts with me on this because I don’t get it???

I really feel like they directly addressed some of the concerns we’ve all been having in this lesson, too. I mean Solomon straight up talks about wondering what the brothers we left behind are doing. Or if time is still going there or if we’ll end up exactly where we left etc etc. HOWEVER all that soup talk makes me think they are just going to mesh it all together. ‘Cause Solomon also said this:

What does that mean? How can the future brothers influence what’s happening in the past? Unless their memories are changing in real time… ugh why did they have to go with time travel shenanigans?? Don’t they know this junk hurts my brain??

Anyway, now it’s time for some of my favorite moments, enough about time travel and feelings and pacts!

Because my favorite sorcerer also said this. And I know there are some questions about his motives and blah blah but I don’t care. I love him. He’ll be all serious, then say something sweet and reassuring, then do something crazy or try to cook again… he’s got so many sides to him lol.

STOP MAKING ME LIKE YOU MEPHISTOPHELES. (Please you were like the last character I was neutral about I can’t afford to get obsessed with anyone else.)

Honestly, I laughed so hard when he said this. Mammon just called him out directly and he LAUGHED. He laughed and was like yeah duh of course, idiots. And look how pleased he is about it, too.

May I bring your attention to my baby Levi? Look at this silly guy. I was so happy I got to hug him. And the group hug was adorable, too. Satan protesting the whole time lol. Lucifer coming in and being like… I regret asking.

I swear sometimes I wanna kiss this guy JUST to watch him blush. It’s so freakin’ cute.

Smitten. I am smitten.

The way she’s like I don’t get why you like these weirdos, but I know they matter to you. Don’t worry, it’s going to work out. How she gets all defensive of MC. Her cute little smile. The way she suggests coming to visit MC in the human world & saying that Solomon can come too?! LIKE. I love her so much.

HE KNOWS.

Listen I was thrilled about this whole part - Barbatos being mysterious and giving me a weird piece of paper and a Little D? Yes forever. But also I think we’ve all suspected him of knowing the truth and this part right here just solidifies that for me. He definitely knows. He knows everything about what’s going on. I don’t think that means he’s Nightbringer or even that he’s working with Nightbringer. He could just know because he’s got access to all of time and what not. But either way, he knows.

Honestly I love Barbatos so much. Just the small parts we had with him were enough to get me in my feels. I also really enjoyed the hard lesson because even if Luke doesn’t know what’s going on, I think Simeon does. And their discussion was interesting.

So I’m gonna leave you with one last Barb moment.

I’m so impatient is it the end of the season yet?? I wanna know how it ends right NOW.

#it’s been a minute since I did a whole post with screenshots #but there were so many good moments this time tee hee #obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me nightbringer spoilers #obey me nightbringer lesson 33 #obey me solomon #obey me leviathan #obey me belphegor #obey me barbatos #obey me thirteen #spoilers #misc lesson recap #misc rambles

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marauderverse · 5 months

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With Love// F.W x Reader pt.4

Summary: Y/n Dursley of number 4 Privet Drive hates her life. That was, of course, until the summer before grade 9, after an oddly charming redhead and his brothers helped her cousin escape. it was probably a good thing he forgot to return that key.

word count: 1.7k

The letter came one June afternoon.

Y/n was on her way back from school, and her brother running off with his friends to do god knows what.

Her father was at work, and her mother was out getting groceries.

She had the house to herself and couldn’t have been more elated.

A light tapping on the widow by the kitchen sink alerted her to the barn owl.

She stood up, making her way over and tentatively taking the letter from its beak.

Dursley family

Number 4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

She turned the letter over; sure, this was again a letter explaining what Hyginks Harry had gotten himself into this month.

To her surprise, it was an invitation.

Dursley Family,

You have been cordially invited to spectate the third and final task of the 1994/95 Triwizard Tournament.

If you are to accept this invitation, we expect your owl no later than June 20th.

A representative will escort you to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry at 11:30 am on June 24th.

We eagerly await your reply.

Yours sincerely

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

She grinned as she read the letter. She turned to the owl that was still perched on the window sill.

“Can you just wait a moment?” She asked the owl; it simply blinked at her with its large eyes.

She ran up to her room, grabbing a pen, paper and the owl treats from her room.

She stopped at her kitchen table, quickly scribbling down a reply.

Dear Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall

I would be delighted to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to spectate the 1994/95 Triwizard tournament.

The rest of my family will not be in attendance.

Yours Sincerely

Y/n Dursley

Harry’s Favourite Cousin

She folded the paper in half.

She gave the owl a treat before handing it the letter and watching it fly off into the evening sky.

She grinned, excitement bubbling in her chest at the prospect of being able to see the magic school. She, a muggle (Which Harry would often call her to annoy her), surely this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Her spirits were high all evening; even her mother's nagging couldn’t wipe the grin off her face.

“Why are you so happy?” Dudley had asked rather loudly.

y/n shrugged.

“It’s nothing, and even if it were, I wouldn’t tell you because you would just spoil it,” she shot back.

“I would not,” he protested, face scrunching up and beginning to turn red.

“Yes, you would; you always do. Remember my year four violin recital? I was so excited to show Mum and Dad what I had been working on, and the night before, you threw a tantrum because you didn’t want to go, and I had to miss my own recital,” she explained.

“I did not!” he was beginning to sound like an overgrown baby.

“Or what about when I was thirteen? And I was having my friends stay the night for my birthday, and you didn’t want them in the house because you wanted to play your video games in peace, so you screamed and cried until I had to cancel my birthday,” she retorted.

Dudley was on the verge of another one of his tantrums; she could feel it. His face was red as a tomato, and he breathed heavier than normal.

“So no, Dudley, I’m not going to tell you why I’m so happy tonight,”

“Mum!” Dudley wailed, throwing himself onto the ground.

Three seconds flat, and their mother was already by his side.

“What’s wrong, duddies?” She cooed.

“Y/n’s tormenting me,” he fake bawled.

She turned her attention to her daughter.

“What have I said about bullying your brother Y/n? You’re sixteen now; this is completely unacceptable behaviour,” She screeched.

Y/n shrugged, turning around to make her way up the steps.

“I ought to ask the Weasley twins for more of those magical toffees,” She said loudly enough for her brother to hear.

She grinned at the genuine scream of terror he let out at her words.

She didn’t have to wait long for a reply from the deputy headmistress.

It was the Saturday of the same week the letter had initially arrived. This time it was delivered directly to her.

Y/n Dursley

First Room to the Left

Second floor

Number 4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

Dear Miss Dursley,

We appreciate your timely reply.

Due to the nature of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, it is pertinent that a witch or wizard must escort all Muggle Family Members.

A representative will arrive at precisely 11:15 a.m on the 24th of June and escort you to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where you will be able to spectate the third and final task of the 1994/95 Triwizard tournament.

If you have any questions or further enquiries, please don’t hesitate to contact me.

Yours sincerely

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

She grinned at the letter in her hands, an excitement she hadn’t felt before making its way to the surface.

She couldn’t help the slight squeal of excitement from her lips.

It seemed the morning of June 24th couldn’t come fast enough.

She hadn’t told her parents what was happening, fearing they would lock her away in her room or something just as horrible.

By some good fortune, everyone in her household was out that Friday.

Her father was at work, her brother at school and her mother was out with her friends for brunch.

Three loud knocks echoed through the silent house.

Y/n jumped up from the couch, swinging the door open.

“Hello Y/n,”

She was slightly taken aback by the man standing before her, but a wide grin cracked across her face.

“Mr Weasley, it’s good to see you. I take it you’re my escort to Hogwarts?” She questioned.

Mr Weasley nodded his head.

“That’s right when McGonnagll told me you wanted to watch Harry in the last trial, I immediately volunteered myself.”

She smiled bashfully at him.

Stepping out into the warm June morning, she clutched the bouquet of flowers she got her cousin, Mr Weasley instructed her to grip his arm tightly and not let go.

Hesitantly she did as she was told.

In less than five seconds, they were standing in a little village she did not recognise, considerably more nauseous than she was a moment ago.

“What the hell was that?” She asked, willing herself not to throw up.

Mr Weasley let out an amused laugh.

“Sorry, I often forget Muggles aren’t used to magical travel,”

Y/n took a second, dropping the bouquet to the ground and inhaling deeply, placing her hands on her knees.

“Are you alright?” He asked, now slightly concerned for the girl.

She dry heaved a few times, willing herself not to throw up in front of Mr. Weasley. Eventually, the bout of nausea left, and she could stand up straight once more. Collecting the flowers she had thrown aside.

“Okay, we are all good to go,” She smiled.

Mr. Weasley was still wearing a concerned expression, but he nodded in understanding.

"Sorry about that. Apparition can be a bit disorienting for those who aren't used to it. But you handled it well," he said with a friendly smile.

Y/n chuckled nervously, "Yeah, well, it was definitely unexpected."

As they walked towards the magical carriages that would take them to Hogwarts, Y/n couldn't contain her excitement. The whole wizarding world was still a mystery to her, and she was eager to learn more.

“What's it like?” She began, “I ask Harry all the time but he won’t tell me anything interesting, he mostly just talks about quidditch and his classes and stuff. Are there any rules I should know about?"

As they settled into one of the carriages, Y/n couldn't help but be curious about Mr. Weasley's world. "And what about the Ministry of Magic? How does it work? Are there laws that everyone must follow?"

Mr. Weasley nodded, happy to elaborate. "Yes, indeed. The Ministry of Magic oversees magical law in Britain. We have various departments, such as the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, etc. Laws ensure the proper use of magic and protect the magical and non-magical communities."

Y/n absorbed the information, fascinated by the intricacies of the wizarding world. As they continued their conversation, Mr Weasley expressed his interest in the Muggle world.

Before she even knew it they had stopped; Mr. Weasley stepped out first and helped y/n down from the carriage.

She turned, excitement bubbling in her chest. This was it; she was finally going to see the place Harry held so dear to his heart. The place she had envisioned for four years.

But to her dismay, ruins stood staring back at her. It was a dilapidated building that was unfit for anyone to inhabit, never the less than 300 witches and wizards from across the country.

“Uhm, Mr. Weasley?” She began jogging to catch up to him as she realised he had begun walking up the path towards the ruins. “Are we in the right place?”

Mr. Weasley stopped and turned to look at the girl, a look of confusion on his face.

“Yes, of course we are, my dear,” he turned back and continued to walk.

y/n hesitated for a moment.

“It’s just, is this like a trick or something?” she couldn’t help the question.

Mr. Weasley paused for a second, a look of realisation dawning on his face.

“I’m so sorry, I completely forgot,” Turning to look back at the ruins “, There are enchantments and all sorts of muggle-repelling charms put in place, you know, to keep from prying eyes. But I assure you, my dear, the castle is here, and once we are past those, you'll be able to see it as if you were a witch yourself.”

Excitement rose in her chest at those words. She was here; she was going to see it.

One moment, it was ruins; the next, it was a magnificent and imposing castle.

y/n was breathless.

Maybe it was her imagination, but she swore she could feel the magic around her.

tagged : @aki-ham @ashdoctor

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #harry potter #harry potter fandom #harry potter imagine #fred weasly x reader

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heavyhitterheaux · 7 months

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Match With Me

First Lady of Private Garden Fic

AN: 🤭🤭🤭

Synopsis: for your first Halloween as a couple, you have an amazing idea for matching costumes with Jack, but when he tells you he already made plans with PG, you get upset, but someone quickly steps in to take Jack’s place and he is anything but happy when he finds out who it is

Pairing: Baby!Jack Harlow x Baby!Reader

First Lady of Private Garden Masterlist 2

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

For your first Halloween being in a relationship with Jack, you were trying to come up with an idea of a good couple's costumes and went to google to seek some help and some suggestions. When google wasn’t giving you exactly what you were looking for, you were about to give up until you remembered something that had happened the previous week.

Jack organizing his Pokemon cards.

You then knew for a fact that you had come up with the perfect idea for the two of you.

Jack would be Ash while you would dress up as Pikachu.

The next day you brought it up to him when the two of you were simply taking a walk around the neighborhood and you were excited since Halloween was on a Saturday and Victoria was throwing a party that just about everyone was invited to. Her parents would be gone for the entire weekend and she decided to quickly take advantage of that.

“Babe! Halloween is in like thirteen days and I have the cutest idea for our couples costume!” You said as the two of you got to the end of the street and turned the corner to walk in the direction of your favorite bakery.

“Oh, um babe. I wanted to talk to you about that.” Jack hesitantly said while you curiously looked at him.

“Oh, you have an idea too? Let’s hear it. Depending on what it is, I should be able to sew it in time but if not we can go and buy them. What were you thinking?”

“Um, I…. me and PG actually decided on a costume that we’re doing.”

“But…. I thought that we were going to be matching?”

“It’s just that I already promised them and I don’t want to let them down if I back out. Please don’t be upset. We planned this a while ago.”

You didn’t want to show the disappointment on your face even though you knew that Jack could read you like an open book and knew when you were upset with him.

“No worries. I’ll just go with my back-up plan.” You softly replied, but the thing is that you didn’t even have one. This had been the only idea that you had come up with knowing how much Jack liked Pokemon and would always tell you about it.

The rest of the walk to the bakery was in silence, but as soon as you went to grab the door of the bakery to open it, you felt Jack’s hand pulling you back.

“You’re mad at me.” You heard him say, but all you did was turn around and sigh.

“No I’m not, boo bear.”

“Yes you are, you’ve been quiet ever since I told you what our plans were.”

“Will you stop worrying? It’s fine.” You said taking his face into your hands and reaching up to kiss his nose.

“But….”

“I promise that it’s okay. They were your friends before I showed up and I don’t want you bailing out on them for me.”

“Are you positive? You would tell me if you were mad at me right? Shit, this makes me look like a bad boyfriend.”

“Stop that right now. You are not a bad boyfriend and yes, I’m positive. Now come on so we can get our snacks and head back. I’m starting to get cold.”

“Here.” Without hesitation, Jack slid off his hoodie and was trying to pull it over your head when you stopped him.

“Wait, aren’t you cold? I don’t want you to get sick.”

“Don’t worry about me. My baby girl is cold and I want to warm her up.”

Jack proceeded to slide the hoodie over top of your curly hair and pulled it down all to see that you were swimming in it since it was too big. But, you didn’t care because it smelled like him and definitely made a mental note to steal it later.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.” Jack replied while kissing your forehead and finally opening the door to the bakery so that the two of you could go in.

—

The Halloween party was now underway at Victoria’s house and Jack was keeping an eye out for you since you told him that you would meet him there and that he didn’t have to come and get you.

Him and PG were dressed up as the toy soldiers from Toy Story and he couldn’t wait for you to see them.

You had sent him a text not too long ago saying that you were on your way and that you would be there by 9 PM and knew for a fact that you had probably taken this long in order to get your make-up just right and how you wanted it.

Urban finally spotted you come through the door and told Jack who quickly did a double take when he saw you.

“Jack, Y/N is here and um….” Urban started to say, but then trailed off leaving Jack confused.

“Um what?”

“She’s not by herself.” Shloob quickly piped up and said and Jack began to get nervous.

“What do you mean not by herself? All of hot chips and bad decisions are here already and…”

Jack then looked up to see that you were in fact dressed as Pikachu while his younger brother Clay was dressed as Ash.

“You cannot be fucking serious right now.” Jack said out loud as you smiled when you spotted him and then made your way over.

“Hi babe! Aww, yall are toy soldiers from Toy Story! Very cute!” You said while pinching Jack’s cheek and he was doing his best to try and smile back at you despite how he was feeling on the inside.

“It was my idea!” 2fo yelled as he took a break from eating his candy apple.

“And you’re Pikachu while the accidental child is Ash.” Jack quietly muttered and all you did was sigh, but before you could say anything, Clay quickly did.

“Hi to you too, big brother.” Clay said while smiling at Jack who was anything but amused.

“Was this the costume you were trying to tell me about?” Jack asked while at the same time ignoring Clay and he couldn’t help but to be fuming on the inside. But could he really get mad? He was the one who turned down your suggestion in the first place.

“Yeah! But you said you were dressing up with PG, so I asked Clay if he wanted to do it and he said yes.”

“Hmm, I see.”

"I'm going to go and find Victoria, I'll be right back." You said while smiling at him before reaching up to kiss him.

Once you were out of his sight all he did was look over at Clay and roll his eyes.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously what? She asked me and I said yes! She told me that you already had your costume! I was just filling in!" Clay exclaimed but all Jack did was shake his head.

"You and Y/N could have done your own thing. We wouldn't have been mad." Quiiso said while sipping on his punch that he had a feeling had gotten spiked by Victoria.

"But we planned this months ago!" Jack said while holding up his hands and gesturing between all of them.

"But you didn't have a girlfriend months ago, either." Urban added while admiring Victoria from across the room as you were now talking to her along with Jessica and Blanca. He knew that you knew that the two liked each other and was trying your best to get them together, but was failing miserably.

"I….."

"No he was too busy staring at her and drooling while daydreaming in class." Ace added while looking at him.

"HEY! I WAS NOT!"

"You were and I have proof." Clay quickly added which made Jack simply shake his head.

"Well my girl is pretty sooo….. Can you really blame me for that?"

"And would terrorize anyone who you heard was trying to ask her out."

"Stole poor Dylan's gym clothes and had that man stressed trying to find them. Meanwhile we all knew who the culprit was."

"He shouldn't have been after my girl and he learned his lesson and never did that shit again." Jack answered as he tried to plead his case, but none of PG were having it.

"The two of you weren't even together yet! So you acting up was not needed!”

"But everyone knew she was mine! And all of you helped me so I don’t want to hear it!"

“Either way, all we’re saying is that you could have matched with your girl. That’s it.” Quiiso said while holding up his hands in defense.

“Too late for that now.”

“We thought the two of you were going to do something together anyway, so when you showed up at my house earlier I was confused.” Urban confessed as he noticed you walking back over towards them.

“We were only going to stay for about an hour so that we could still go trick or treating.” You told Jack who simply stared at you.

“We?”

“Me and Clay, silly. He is only thirteen and I promised Maggie and Brian to have him back at a certain time.”

“Wait, so they knew about this?!” Jack asked as he gestured between both you and Clay’s outfits.

“Yes, she helped us with them.” Clay responded while shrugging and Urban was doing his best to try not to laugh.

“Your brother has successfully stolen your girl, once again.” Urban leaned over and whispered in his ear, but all Jack did was keep a straight face.

“Well whenever you two leave, we’re all leaving together.”

“But…” 2fo started to protest, but Jack quickly stepped on his foot in order to shut him up.

“Okay! Apparently Victoria said to stay around her neighborhood and then go to Blanca’s because they give out the best candy and give out full size candy bars.” You said while looking up at Jack who simply nodded.

“Sounds like a plan.”

It was nearing ten at night and although you were hesitant about still going to get candy, Victoria told you to go so that you would at least get something and assured you that it was okay. She mentioned the year before that she didn’t get back in the house until one in the morning because she was still out getting candy.

However, every house that all of you went to Jack was annoyed simply because everyone kept complimenting your costume right along with Clay’s even though he tried not to let it show.

It wasn’t until about the eighth house that all of you were to, that he was fed up.

A nice young couple had opened the door and saw you and Clay in the front of the group and admired how cute the two of you look.

“Okay, but she’s MY girlfriend!” Jack exclaimed while crossing his arms and pouting.

You were confused by his outburst and looked to Clay for some guidance, but all he did was shrug.

“If she’s your girlfriend then why are you two not dressed alike?” The nice woman asked and since Jack didn’t have an answer for her all he did was sigh.

“Same thing I was thinking!” 2fo said while holding his two huge bags of candy that you had no idea where he had gotten them from since you hadn’t gone to that many houses yet.

“Not helping!” Jack yelled out as all of you grabbed different candy bars from the bowl on the porch and went on about your way.

When leaving the house, you let the others go on ahead as you fell back to talk to your boyfriend.

“Smush, what was that about?” You asked as you slipped your hand in his.

“I….”

“You know that I’m your girlfriend and no one else’s. I just didn’t want my costume choice to go to waste so that’s the whole reasoning behind me asking Clay.”

“It’s fine, doesn’t even matter.”

“No, it does matter because you’re upset and I can tell. You have absolutely no reason to be jealous of your little brother because I know you are no matter how much you’re trying to hide it from me.”

“Hmm, maybe a little.”

“Only have eyes for you, remember that. And you and Clay are close so I would think that you would want your brother and girlfriend to get along because I know how important he is to you despite all the bickering.”

“I guess that’s true.”

“So, how about we start making plans for next year?” You asked and could see Jack start to smile.

“We definitely need to do more than one costume.”

“I like that idea. You pick one and I’ll pick the other?”

“Do you have anything in mind right now?”

“We are definitely going as Jack and Rose from Titanic.”

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#jack harlow #jack harlow fic #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow blurb #jack harlow concept #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x black reader #first lady of pg #jack harlow fanfiction

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babydollmarauders · 1 year

Text

MAROON — JACK HUGHES

jack hughes x fem!reader

part of the Midnights Fic List

summary: in which y/n and her best friend, Jack, get drunk on cheap wine and finally confess their feelings in her New York apartment.

specific lyrics: “‘how’d we end up on the floor anyway?’ you say, ‘your roommate’s cheap-ass screw top rosé, that’s how.’” and “the burgundy on my t-shirt when you splashed your wine into me and how the blood rushed into my cheeks” and “i chose you, the one i was dancing with in New York..”

warnings: light profanity, alcohol

notes: i’ve been so excited to write this one. if you guys can’t tell from my other fics, best friends to lovers is my favorite trope so this one was so fun for me to write!

i’ve known the Hughes family my entire life. with my mom and Ellen Hughes being best friends from playing hockey together, i grew up spending my summers at the Hughes lake house and visiting whenever possible. so, of course, i grew close to the three brothers.

Quinn, the oldest, is three years older than me. growing up he was always like the annoying, protective older brother i never had, and he still is.

Luke, the youngest, is a year younger than me. he’s my buddy, the one i go to when i need something set straight for me, and the only guy i know that would sit in his bedroom and miss a party at his own house just so he could comfort me over the phone.

and lastly, Jack. a year older than me, and my best friend since i was born, i guess. my mom and Ellen have always said that as soon as i was born, it was like Jack knew we were meant to be best friends. they claim that when i was a baby and he was one, he would cry until they put him in my crib with me, in which case they swear that it would instantly put a smile on my face. but no matter if those stories are true or not, we have indeed been best friends since diapers.

Jack and i’s friendship has always been different than the ones i have with his brothers, especially when i turned thirteen and started really paying attention to guys. that was the fateful year that Jack graduated from not only being my best friend but also my biggest crush. i started noticing not only how cute he really is, but how sweet he could be, and how comfortable i am with him.

which brings us to now, in my New York apartment, where i’m currently sat on the floor with the guy i’m head over heels in love with, sharing a bottle of wine. it’s the first week of the off-season and he had originally came over to help me pack for the annual lake house trip, but then my roommate popped her head in to ask if we wanted a couple bottles of rosé that she bought on sale. she was about to leave for the airport for her flight back home for the summer and couldn’t bring them with her. so Jack and i shared a quick glance and said yes, and now here we are.

i’m sat with my back against the coffee table, my feet in Jack’s lap.

“hey, do you remember that time- when uh- when Luke jumped into the lake from the rope swing, and just completely belly flopped?” Jack’s words were broken up between fits of laughter, and i burst out in laughter, as well, at the memory.

“oh my god yes! his entire chest and stomach were red!” it’s a wonder how we’ve yet to get a noise complaint from my neighbors by now. as our laughter dies down, Jack shifts around.

“my ass is numb from the hardwood.” he tells me, and the casual announcement makes me double over in laughter once more.

“how’d we end up on the floor, anyway?” i wonder out loud.

“your roommates cheap-ass screw top rosé, that’s how!” he exclaims through giggles. i don’t laugh with him, instead i stay silent, studying him. he’s so beautiful.

Jack stands from the floor, letting my feet roll of his lap and land with a thump. grabbing the empty wine bottle and our glasses from the coffee table, he goes into the kitchen. i watch him as he grabs my bottle of red wine from the fridge, refilling our glasses before walking back to me. he bends down to hand me my glass, but in his inebriated state, he doesn’t pay attention to his own glass in his hand and his wine splashes onto my white t-shirt. the burgundy liquid staining and leaving the shirt slightly see through, clinging to my braless chest.

“oh shit, sorry y/n/n!” his eyes go wide and he stares at my chest. logically, i know he’s just looking at the stain and not my breasts, but blood rushes into my cheeks at the thought of him eyeing my chest.

“it’s fine!” i wave it off, as i stand to go change. “i’ll be right back.”

i go into my bedroom and ruffle through the shirts that i don’t have packed for the summer, picking out an old USA Hockey shirt of Jack’s.

i step back out into the living room to find Jack had put on one of my vinyl’s, i watch as he dances around my living room to the sound of Photograph by Ed Sheeran. a smile breaks across my face as he just spins around the room. finally spotting me, he walks over and holds his hand out.

“dance with me, belle.” my heart flutters at his use of the nickname he started calling me in high school. he never explained why he started calling me ‘belle’, all i know is that one day when i had met him after his french class and my spanish class, he said he had a new nickname for me, and he’s called me ‘belle’ ever since. usually the nickname seems to be reserved for special moments or when it’s just the two of us.

i slip my hand in his, allowing him to pull me closer. his hands take hold of my arms, sliding them up onto his shoulders, and he wraps his arms around my waist, swaying us around the living room. he gazes down at me, a soft smile on his face and an unreadable emotion present in his eyes.

“hi.” his voice is barely a whisper.

“hi.” i reply in the same low volume. his eyes flicker over my face and his cheeks turn pink. making me ask- “what are you thinking?”

“i’m thinking that i’ve wanted to be in this position since high school.” his words confuse me. but my heart speeds up, as if it knows what he means before my brain does.

“dancing?” i laugh halfheartedly.

“you in my arms. just the two of us.” he clarifies and i can feel myself blush for the second time tonight.

“if you wanted me to yourself, you could’ve just asked.” i joke.

“i don’t just want you to myself.” he whispers. “i want you to be mine.”

his reply causes me to stumble a step, and my heart feels like it might beat out of my chest.

“don’t say things you don’t mean, Jack.” i tell him. suddenly, i feel insecure and afraid. i’ve never felt this way with him. other guys, sure. but never him.

“why would you think i don’t mean what i’m saying?” he stops our dancing and i only just realize that the song has changed. my arms slip off his shoulders, dropping back down to my sides, but his hands never leave my hips. “y/n, do you think i would say something like that if i don’t mean it?”

“i don’t know.” i mumble, shrugging my shoulders. he brings a hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, before letting it fall back down to my hip.

“i’ve been in love with you since high school, y/n/n. i thought by now you would’ve caught on, but i guess that’s on me because you always have been pretty oblivious when it comes to flirting.” he laughs.

“wait, what?” i ask. please don’t be messing with me. please be telling the truth.

“did you really not know? look if this is too much, if you don’t like me like that, then just tell me. straight out. because i don’t want to compromise our friendship with this confession. we can just forget it ever happened.” that sobers me up real quickly.

“wait, no, hold on. i never said i didn’t like you.” i rebut.

“what are you saying?” by the smirk on his face, i know he knows what i’m saying, but i take a deep breath and clarify anyways.

“jack, i’ve liked you since i was thirteen.” i confess. “i didn’t think you thought of me as anything more than your annoying best friend though.”

“y/n, i literally gave you a nickname that translates to ‘beautiful’ and you thought i was looking at you like ‘oh yeah that’s my best friend, she’s so annoying’?” he asks.

“what? is that what that means?” my tone is incredulous. i assumed he was calling me ‘belle’ like princess belle because i like to read.

“oh my god, you really had no idea? i literally gave you that nickname after we learned the word in french class. you were the first thing that popped in my head when we learned it.”

i can’t take any more talking. Jack starts to say something else but i cut him off by pressing my lips against his. it doesn’t take him more than a second to start kissing back, his lips locking with mine.

i pull back, breathless and anxious, but the smile Jack wears eases my nerves.

“so you like me, huh?” he jokes.

“oh shut up.” i roll my eyes, giving his shoulder a playful shoulder.

**BONUS SCENE**

we’ve been at the lake house for three days and so far, no one has even noticed that Jack and i are officially dating. have we really always been this touchy?

Jack and i have made a game out of it, guessing who the first person to notice will be. he says Ellen or my mom, but i say Quinn or Luke. we both know our dads don’t pay enough attention to catch onto anything.

i walk down the stairs, prepared to grab a snack before us ‘kids’ head out on the boat. Ellen and my mom sit in the kitchen talking, but go silent as soon as i walk in.

“heyyy.” i drag out, eyeing them suspiciously.

“hi, honey.” Ellen gives me a kiss on the forehead as i stop in front of them.

“what were you two talking about?” i ask.

“nothing.” they say in unison, shaking their heads.

“i believe you, not at all.” i joke, opening a cupboard to grab a granola bar. “what was it?”

“they were talking about you and Jack.” Luke says, walking out from the walk-in pantry. “mom was saying she thinks they should set you guys up on a blind date with each other.”

“Luke Warren Hughes! how long have you been in there?!” Ellen scolds, not even bothering to deny his claims.

“i was looking for something to eat, you’re the ones who came in gossiping.” he shrugs. before Ellen can refute, Jack walks in from the same way i came. wrapping an arm around my shoulders, he stops next to me.

“what are you guys talking about?” Jack asks.

“our moms wanted to set us up on a blind date.” i say, a sly smile on my lips as i look up at him.

Jack lets out a chuckle before directing his gaze to his mom.

“sorry, no can do mom. i’ve got a girlfriend.” he smiles, and i have to bite back a grin. it’s the first time he’s called me his girlfriend. i like it.

“you what?!” Ellen exclaims. “why have i not met her? or even heard about her?”

“it’s a recent development.” Jack shrugs. “anyways, i’m gonna steal y/n/n here. Quinn is waiting for us at the boat. Luke, c’mon.”

before i can even think to take a step, Jack sweeps my feet off the ground, throwing me over his shoulder and walking away. i smack at his back with my free hand while one still clutches my granola bar.

“Jack Rowden Hughes, put me down! right now!” he barks out a laugh and i can feel his neck shift against me like he’s moving his head around before he lands a smack against my ass. “HEY!”

he ignores my struggles, walking down to the dock, all the way to the boat before finally setting me down.

“i can walk. i have legs.” i laugh.

“i know, but i wanted to carry you.” he grins down at me. i scan the dock for Quinn, but with no sight of him i relax.

“you just wanted an excuse to stare at my ass.” i joke. Jack hooks his fingers through the front belt loops on my shorts, tugging me closer so that i’m pressed up against him.

“and is that a crime?” he asks. i smile up at him, sending one last glance toward the house over his shoulder, not seeing Quinn or Luke. i lean up, planting a kiss on his lips.

“what the fuck?!!” the exclamation comes from behind me and i pull back, spinning around quickly to find Quinn stood on the boat. he’s leaned over the side, staring at Jack and i with a dropped jaw.

“oh- hi, Quinny.” i smile, painting on a face of innocence. Quinn’s eyes dart between me and Jack.

“when the hell did this happen?” he asks. “i knew i never should’ve let you move to New York. he’s corrupted you. i should’ve insisted you moved to Vancouver, but no, i said ‘if New York is where she wants to be, i won’t push.’ i should’ve pushed.”

i look over to Jack, sharing an amused smile with my boyfriend as his brother rambles on.

“Quinn.” i interrupt. he stops, throwing me a raised brow before giving a side eye to his younger brother. “did you really think this wouldn’t happen eventually?”

he sighs, before nodding.

“i know. i expected this. i prepared for this.” it’s my turn to quirk a brow now.

“you prepared for this?” i ask. he nods and hops onto the dock.

“okay, it’s time for us to talk. Jack, y/n, when a man and a woman love each other very much, sometimes-”

“oH MY GOD.” i shout. plugging my fingers in my ears. “la la la la la i can’t hear you! i am not currently getting the sex talk from my boyfriends older brother! la la la la la.”

Quinn’s face lights up and he burst out in laughter. i take my fingers out of my ears, eyeing him.

“oh, that was good! you should’ve seen your faces!” he laughs. i turn to look at Jack, who still wears a disgusted grimace. i pat his chest and let out a sigh. “seriously, i’ll be right back though.”

Quinn takes off in a jog towards the lake house, but before he disappears inside, i hear him yell.

“MOM! YOU’LL NEVER BELIEVE WHAT I JUST SAW!”

Jack finally unfreezes from his state of disgust. pulling out his wallet and handing me a twenty dollar bill.

“you won.”

#jack hughes #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x reader #nhl fic #nhl imagine #faithlynn’s writings <3 #babydollmarauders #nj devils #midnights fic list

738 notes · View notes

ichorai · 1 year

Text

sunlight ; jesse pinkman.

track thirteen of WASTELAND, BABY!

pairing ; jesse pinkman x gn!reader

synopsis ; yellow was not a color he often saw in alaska. that was, until you came into his life.

words ; 4.2k

themes ; fluff, angst, slice of life, writer au

warnings / includes ; breaking bad & el camino spoilers, mentions of death/walter/drugs/the nazi group that imprisoned him, jesse is just Traumatized, reader is a sweetheart, jesse befriends a Cat <3

main masterlist.

The color yellow often resurfaced bad memories of his past. Yellow were the hazmat suits he wore with Walt when they cooked meth. Yellow were Jane’s bed sheets when she overdosed right next to him. Yellow were the broiling sands of New Mexico—a place he once called home.

Now that he was in Alaska, yellow was a color he scarcely ever saw. And for that he was glad. Mostly, it was white. With snow—with clouds. Maybe a dash of brown and grey here and there, alongside the occasional green once in a while.

It was quiet. Peaceful.

After everything, a bit of peace was all that Jesse needed.

That is, until you came along.

The first time he met you, you were decked out in an array of soft canary-hued clothes, certainly a sight that he wasn’t expecting at all. You were smiling brightly, so wide that it was a wonder your face hadn’t split into two. There was a basket in your hands, which held nothing other than around a dozen ripe lemons.

“Urm, hello?” Jesse hesitantly greeted, opening the door wider.

“Hi, I’m Y/N. Sorry for dropping by all of a sudden—I live around five minutes away, and there’s barely anybody that lives near me other than grouchy old Bob, so when I found out someone had moved into this shabby little cabin, I just couldn’t help but stop by! Here, I got you a little house-warming gift. I hope you like lemons!” You held the basket out to him, still beaming ever so kindly.

Awkward, Jesse took the lemons from you, his free hand rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Ah, thanks. I’m Jared. Jared Driscoll.”

“Well, it’s really nice to meet you, Jared. Hope it’s not weird for me to say that it’s great to see a young face around,” you told him, rocking back on your heels. “Most people living around here are over sixty.”

Memories of Walter, Saul, and Mike flashed in the back of his mind, and he could nearly feel the physical pressure weighing down on his chest. He squared his jaw and pushed the thoughts away.

“Yeah,” replied Jesse, nodding. “Thanks again, for, uhm, these.”

He was just about to shut the door again, mentally smacking himself for being so tongue-tied, before you gently asked, “If you’re not doing anything tonight, I’d love to have you over for dinner. No pressure, though, I’d totally understand if you’d want to settle in first.”

No, was right on the tip of his tongue. No thanks, I’m a little busy with unpacking my stuff. I mean, I don’t have any stuff, but you don’t need to know that.

But the words caught in his throat. You looked so hopeful, your hands clasped behind you and your eyes wide with excitement. You were still smiling—how were you still smiling? His eyes darted down to your yellow cardigan rustling with the frigid Alaskan wind.

“Uhm, alright,” he replied, shooting you a tight smile that came off more like an uncomfortable grimace than anything, but at least he was trying.

Somehow, you seemed to brighten even more at his response.

“Cool, is seven okay with you? I still need to clean up a bit before dinner.”

Jesse nodded wordlessly, a strange, giddy warmth pooling into his abdomen—a feeling he hadn’t felt in a very, very long time. It was excitement. Jesse couldn’t remember the last time he’d genuinely been excited for something.

“Alright, to get to my place, you just walk up the main road for a while, until you see a fork in the road—take a right, and walk for a bit, then you’ll see my house. In case you wanna make sure it’s my place, the mailbox has a pink handprint on it, but I doubt you’ll get confused—it’s not a very crowded neighborhood, huh?”

Jesse thanked you again as you left, smiling at you—genuinely, this time.

Two packs of crushed crackers were gripped within one of his hands. It was all he had in his pantry, and he didn’t know what the etiquette was like around here, so he brought them just to be safe.

There was a lot of yellow to your house. He caught sight of the lemon tree in the corner of your living room, situated right against a window for optimum sunlight. You had a pale yellow carpet beneath the dining table, and sheer curtains hanging over the window of the same shade. You even had a little white cat, who had wound around Jesse’s legs with a mewl, staring up at him with large amber eyes.

You apologized profusely, bending down to pick her up. “Sorry, she’s not usually this friendly around strangers. This is Yuki—means snow in Japanese.”

A smile itched at the corner of his lips. “No worries. I’m cool with cats. I, uh, I like her name.”

Seemingly relieved, you put Yuki back down, and ushered him to the table. In the center was a clear vase, holding a variety of ochre and purple wildflowers.

“Hope you’re alright with spaghetti—I’m not that great of a cook, but I make a mean spaghetti,” you said, grinning as you disappeared into the kitchen to brandish a large bowl of pasta. His stomach growled at the smell of marinara sauce—he couldn’t remember the last time he had a decent bowl of warm, homemade food.

“No, yeah, that’s great,” he reassured. Silence stretched between the two of you as you began to ladle heapfuls of the noodles onto his plate, making sure to add a generous helping of meatballs with it. Awkwardly, he cleared his throat. “I haven’t had the chance to thank you, so… thanks.”

You grinned at him kindly, before sitting right across from him. “It’s no problem, I promise. To be honest, it gets really lonely here sometimes. I’m glad you moved in.”

Jesse could only give you a small smile in return, before digging into his food. It was better than anything he’d had in months, though it wasn’t much of a competition. The past few weeks had been nothing but stale sandwiches and tough jerky that wore out his jaw.

“This is really good,” he said around a mouthful of pasta, forgetting his tableside manners for a moment. You didn’t seem to mind, only beaming all the brighter.

“I’m glad! Wish I could grow my own fresh tomatoes to make the sauce with but—it’s almost always freezing cold here,” you chuckled lightly. You twirled some pasta over your fork. “Which is why I grow lemon trees—they can withstand the cold pretty well.”

“How long have you been living here?” asked Jesse, finding himself genuinely curious about you.

You hummed in thought. “Four years ago, I think. I just needed some peace and quiet—and where better than Alaska, you know? I’m a writer, see, and I used to think that I had to live in a bustling city to make connections and meet more people in the industry to be successful but… I don’t know, I think a part of me always felt trapped in a corner. I feel free here.”

“Yeah,” replied Jesse, distant. “I get that. So, uh, you’re a writer, huh? What do you write?”

“Short stories, mostly. Sometimes I dabble in longer novels, and sometimes I’ll dip my toe into nonfiction. Depends on what my publishers want from me and also what I personally want to write,” you said, before taking a sip of water. Blanching, you quickly added, “Oh, I’m so sorry, you’re my guest and I haven’t even asked a single thing about you. What about you? What’re you doing up in the middle of nowhere, Alaska, Jared?”

The new name felt so foreign—so strange coming from you. He wondered how it’d sound if you said his real name. Jesse.

At your question, a myriad of memories flashed into the front of his thoughts once more. Mike, Walt, Jane, Badger, Skinny Pete, the meth, the drugs, his parents…

He pursed his lips.

Sensing he was a bit uncomfortable, he was surprised when you only nodded in gentle understanding, quietly saying, “It’s alright. You don’t have to tell me. We all have our reasons.”

The reassuring smile that quirked the corner of your lips upward made his heart just a little heavier. You were just so… nice. It was a bit baffling. An extremely stark comparison to his time kept prisoner by the group of Nazis.

“You got space for dessert?” you queried, tilting your head in the most adorable of ways, snapping him out of his reverie just when the atmosphere began returning back to its original light-hearted state. “I made lemon pie!”

It took him a little under a month to fully settle in. His house was still sparse and relatively empty, but he’d bought a nice new couch to lay back on and a frumpy little lamp he had gotten for free at an antique store. The old lady that worked there had pinched his cheeks and given it to him for free, despite the crumpled bills he was just about to hand over.

She told him that she reminded her of her grandson, and insisted on giving it to him for no charge. Acquiescing, Jesse took it home with him. Who was he to turn down something free, anyway?

He’d gotten himself a job as a carpenter, building together new little cabins not far from where he lived for adventuring tourists or more old couples that would inevitably migrate here in search of some peace and quiet. Most of his free time was spent dillying in his house, reading random books he’d borrow from the musty little library in the small town (he was pleasantly surprised to find a collection of your works on one shelf)—or he’d find himself at your house, playing Scrabble with you, or listening to you ramble about your day, or babysitting your cat when you had to go off to meet with your publisher.

It was safe to say that he’d grown rather fond of you.

And that scared him. Rightfully so—the last two times he’d genuinely cared about someone… he’d lost both of them.

But that was in the past now. Jesse was trying to move forward. With you by his side, hopefully.

One of the benefits of being a carpenter was that he had a nearly infinite supply of spare wood on his hands. He’d been meaning to make you a little thank you gift for how nice you’d been to him his first few weeks in Alaska. He certainly hadn’t been expecting any sort of hospitality whatsoever before he’d arrived.

And so Jesse built you a little birdhouse. It was relatively small and admittedly not his most skillful craft, but he thought it wasn’t too shabby. He’d even stopped by a hardware store to grab some paint, and added a thin coat of light yellow to the outside of the birdhouse. The roof was colored a sweet shade of pink—he’d meant to color it red, but the crimson had accidentally mixed into the white on his brush, and he decided that the pink would look better, anyways.

The day after, he was on your doorstep, ringing the bell with an excited flutter to his stomach, rocking back and forth on his heels.

You swung the door open, smiling upon seeing him. He interestingly noted that you were wearing large yellow overalls, hair tied away from your face. You looked so darned cute—it made him clam up for a second and forget what he’d come here for.

“Hey!” you greeted, stepping to the side so he could amble in. “It’s nice to see you, I was literally just about to call you to ask if you wanted to watch a movie tonight, or something—ooh, whatcha got there?” Your eyes widened as you looked at the little wooden house cradled in his palms.

“It’s for you,” said Jesse, holding it out. “It’s a, uhm, a birdhouse.”

Your expression melted into one of pure affection, and you grinned impossibly wider, before surging forward and throwing your arms around him in a quick hug. Before he could even begin to think about reciprocating the embrace, you were already pulling away, holding the birdhouse up to eye-level to observe it closer. “Oh, my God, Jared, this is gorgeous—I can’t thank you enough. Did you make it yourself?”

Chuckling nervously, Jesse nodded an affirmative, scratching the back of his neck in a sheepish manner. “It was nothing, really. Just had some scrap wood.”

“I love it,” you told him. The words made warmth coil about the bones of his ribs, spreading down to the tips of his fingers and crawling up the skin of his neck. “Nobody’s ever made me something like that before! You’re really too sweet, Jared. I’ll hang it outside in a bit.”

Carefully, you placed the little house on your table. A quiet meow roped both of your attentions lower, where Yuki was winding between both of your legs, tail curled around Jesse’s shins. He bent down to gently scratch beneath her chin, earning him a contented purr.

The three of you made your way to the couches, and you ushered Jesse to sit down, after you rushed to go pour him a steaming cup of coffee.

“It’s freezing out,” you told him, curling up beside the man and handing him the mug, before taking a sip from your own. Yuki made herself comfortable between the two of you, tucking her nose behind her tail and shutting her eyes for a nap. “Hopefully you can stay and defrost for a bit before heading back out?”

He hummed, appreciative of the idea. Being with you was… comforting, to say the least. It was peaceful, and quiet, and made his heart ache like nothing else. Dare he say—domestic. It reminded him of his short-cut time with Jane.

At the thought of her, thorns pierced through his lungs and he forced his gaze away from you. He caught sight of a small pile of papers on your coffee table, and he leaned forward to pick one up. You fiddled with the mug in your hands, nervous.

“Oh, wow, is this what you’ve been writing?” His eyes swept along the first few lines, finding himself utterly impressed. “Yo, this is, like, really damn good.”

“Really?” you asked, sitting up straighter, a hopeful look to your expression. “I’ve been in a weird word-vomit mood lately—ever since I met you, I just haven’t been able to stop.”

Jesse risked a glance to you, muffling a smile. “I may not know much about writing but this is… next level, dude. It’s like I can see it all in my head. Like a movie but with… words?”

“Gosh, Jared, you really know how to compliment someone,” you lightly scoffed, hiding your beam behind your mug. “You can keep that copy if you want. Here—” Shifting to brandish a pen from your pocket, you signed his name right under your printed one.

Jesse peered over to look, the smile cracking through his exterior.

For Jared Driscoll.

“You know what’s funny,” you murmured, eyes glued to his fake name on the paper. “You’ve never really pegged me as a Jared Driscoll.”

For a long moment, Jesse could’ve sworn his heart stopped in his chest. “Oh, yeah? Why, uh… why’s that?”

You shot him a glance, before smiling sweetly, handing him the papers back for him to keep. “I don’t really know—it just doesn’t suit you, I guess. Jared Driscoll sounds so—rough’n’tough, you know? You don’t strike me as the rough’n’tough kind of guy. You’re too sweet for that.” You shrugged, sinking further into the couch and running the tips of your fingers along Yuki’s back.

Jesse stared at you for a moment longer. Your words brought a certain kind of comfort to him that he never knew he needed. The affirmation that he was still a good person in your eyes—it meant more to him than he thought it would.

“Thanks,” he said, hesitant, though he gently quirked the corner of his lips into a mild grin. He sipped his warm coffee before adding on, “I think you’re sweet, too.”

“You never told me when your birthday was,” you told him, an accusing lilt to your words. Jesse’s brows rose. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, having just woken up no less than three minutes ago to the door ringing.

Wordlessly, he swung his door open wider so you had space to shuffle in, still glaring at him.

“It’s been a year since you moved in,” you carried on. There was a slight pouty pucker to your lips, face creased into a frown. Jesse thought you were too damned cute to take your annoyance too seriously. “And we haven’t celebrated your birthday once!”

“Bah, it’s not a big deal,” he finally said, yawning behind a fist and waving your words away.

Your little frown deepened. “Well, I’m sorry I missed it,” you softly said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “But I got you something anyway.”

From out of seemingly nowhere, you brandished a large brown paper bag, dangling it in front of him on the tips of your fingers. When he narrowed his blue eyes and suspiciously darted his gaze between you and the bag, you huffed out a small laugh, jerking your chin towards the gift. “Go on—open it!”

The bag crinkled loudly beneath his grip as he took it from you. With one last questioning look to you, he turned it over, and out fell a large yellow hoodie, cloud-soft in his palms. It looked like it was the exact right size for him, and he sent you an incredulous glance.

“This is sick, Y/N, thanks,” he said, a genuine beam itching at his mouth. “Perfect size—and it’s yellow, too!”

For a moment, you looked a bit unsure. “If you don’t like the color, I can always switch it out—it’s just, you’re always wearing neutrals, I thought it’d be nice to give you something colored.”

Jesse looked to the hoodie, then back at you.

Sure, yellow brought back bad memories. Far too many, and not nearly distant enough in his past.

But yellow was your color—and he rather liked how it looked on you.

“Nah,” he said, patting your shoulder once, then twice, “I like it, really. I like it a lot.”

Two years in Alaska meant nearly two years with you.

You’d become the one constant in his life—one that he wouldn’t mind being around for the rest of it, as well.

The two of you were sitting side by side on a frosty hill, watching the sun set. A breathtaking mirage of clementines and peaches bled through the sky just when the sun dipped slowly beneath the horizon. A faint, cold wind tousled your hair, rustling the blades of grass around you. It was meant to be a celebratory picnic of sorts, but the two of you decided it was too cold to eat out, and opted to just sit and relax for a bit before heading back inside and having dinner. Wordlessly, you handed him a pack of chips from the little basket you’d brought for the failed picnic, and he wrestled it open, popping one into his mouth. Simultaneously, you bit down on a crisp apple, wiping the spurting juices away with the back of your hand.

“I can’t believe it’s been two years,” said Jesse, mindlessly tracing shapes into the cold grass. “Time flies, huh?”

You hummed in agreement. “It does.”

Jesse turned to look at you, watching the side of your face relax along with the disappearance of the sun. The last few moments of golden sunlight bathed you in a gentle glow and drew the most beautiful of shadows across your features. You brushed some stray hairs out of your face, the sleeve of your oversized flaxen sweater swallowing your arm. He really couldn’t deny himself anymore—he was completely and utterly in love with you.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you,” he said. He wanted to tell you the truth. Obviously not all of it—not all at once—but he wanted you to know. Jesse trusted you more than anyone else in his entire life. Maybe that made him an idiot, but… he was willing to risk the chance with you.

Curious, you tilted your head questioningly, laying your hands and face against your raised knees. The very edge of your shoulder brushed against his arm. You raised your eyebrows expectantly.

“You were right,” he finally said.

“Right about what?” You were starting to look mildly concerned.

Jesse inhaled deeply. “Jared Driscoll doesn’t suit me at all because… it’s not my real name.”

Surprise flooded your expression, but not too much of it—as if you’d always had an inkling all along.

“So what’s your real name?” you asked, all gentle, slightly afraid. Afraid that you’d lose him after so long—after getting attached.

“Jesse Pinkman,” he responded, tearing his gaze away from you, not sure if he wanted to see your reaction. “My middle name is Bruce.”

To his complete surprise, you let out a sudden laugh, before clamping your hands to your mouth. He snapped his head back to look at you, a contagious, incredulous grin touching the corner of his lips.

“Bruce like Batman?” you asked, slightly muffled behind your palms. He nodded, and you let out another chortling laugh. Relief wove through the very fibers of his muscles at your relaxed disposition. You smiled at him, all soft and glowing. It made Jesse’s stomach knot together uncomfortably. “I think it suits you. Much more than Jared Driscoll.”

You tested his name out, enunciating different syllables in various ways, your grin growing nearly double its size.

“Jesse Pinkman. Jesse Pinkman. Jesse Pinkman. Jesse Pinkman—”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Jesse snorted, grabbing the apple in your hand and gently pushing it back into your mouth. With a halfhearted glare, you bit down into it anyway.

Around a mouthful of apple, you told him, “You have a pretty name.” You swallowed down the apple and quietly asked him, “Why are you using a fake one?”

Jesse hesitated, directing his gaze to the ground. His smile melted away. “Maybe that’s a story for another time.”

Bobbing your head in understanding, you smiled at him, still so very genuine it made his heart ache.

“Since we’re sharing secrets… well, mine isn’t exactly a secret, but I didn’t move to Alaska for the peace and quiet. I mean, I did, but that wasn’t really the reason why I left the city.” You cleared your throat, eyes getting slightly misty. “I lost my best friend in a car crash while she was on call with me seven years ago. A part of me will always think that it’s my fault that she died. So I moved to Alaska to get away from everything. From the city, and all those cars… and all the people. It was really hard being here at first. It was cold, and lonely, and sometimes just plain old boring. But honestly?” You tentatively reached over to place your palm over his. “Best decision I’ve ever made.”

The sun was long gone by now, and Jesse found himself missing how you looked in its soft yellow glow.

“Best decision both of us made,” he murmured, nodding. Jesse quite liked the feeling of your hand on top of his. “I came to Alaska because I, uh… I lost everyone. Everything.”

You smiled—all soft and devastating. He could feel a part of his heart crumbling into a heap of sand within his chest. Nimbly, he turned his palm over to intertwine your fingers with his cold ones.

“Well, you haven’t lost me, Jesse,” you told him, so quiet that it was nearly lost to the breeze.

Jesse wanted to cry at those words. He blinked away the stinging feeling at the top of his nose, and could only muster a grateful, teary nod.

“I, uhm, I’ve only been in love twice before in my life,” he whispered to you, swallowing the lump in his throat. “And both times, they died while I was right there—helpless. I’ve healed and I’m moving on, but, uh… I’m terrified of losing you the way I lost them, Y/N.”

Shifting, you turned so you could fully face him, now clasping both hands onto his right one. Firmly, you repeated yourself, “You haven’t lost me, Jesse. You won’t. Whatever hurt you back in New Mexico is long gone now. The past is far behind you. You have a fresh start. And I’ll be there with you—every step of the way.”

There wasn’t much yellow in Alaska, and for that he’d been grateful.

But maybe… maybe yellow wasn’t so bad.

After all, yellow was your color—and it looked beautiful on you.

#jesse pinkman x reader #jesse pinkman fanfiction #jesse pinkman fluff #jesse pinkman angst #jesse pinkman imagines #jesse pinkman fanfic #jesse pinkman drabbles #jesse pinkman x you #breaking bad fanfiction #jesse pinkman oneshot #jesse pinkman imagine

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hijinxinprogress · 7 months

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YouTuber!Stephanie

Stephanie has a youtube channel (she 100% gives it a name like gotham_after_dark or bat_interpreter) where she follows Batman and mocks him, she definitely also makes content on tiktok and instagram

She’s recording fights with rogues and him interrogating questioning people and doing voice overs in a goofiest growl she can for batman but she also does voices for everyone else (it gets to the point where penguin puts a hit out and is actively trying to expose the youtubers identity bc steph does this terrible whiny british accent when she’s imitating penguin)

She starts her channel right after Bruce fires her from Robin and still does it to this day

Bc if she’s gonna get shit for not being Tim might as well go all the way right?? She’s just doing the opposite of what Tim’s doing or outright copying him depending on which would annoy them the most

Stephanie records batman dangling some guy off a roof for the 37th time this week while going “You said the cheese on the nachos at your restaurant was imported directly from Italy but I saw you…THIS CHEESE IS FROM A GROCERY STORE…in GOTHAM… do you know what batman does to liars??”

Batman’s chasing the joker? Again? Here comes Stephanie with her fucking camera “Joker baby, you know that fight with Cobblepot meant nothing to me” “You know what, Bats? Fight whoever you want!” “Why are you going to Cobblepot’s lair with a grenade launcher? Baby…?” “Well, if the wellbeing of fucking Oswald is sooo important to you, you fucking cheater ☹️ I’m gonna kill him” “HUH” Stephanie’s joker voice is pretty good but she stops when Jason follows her channel after admitting he watches it (however Damian gives zero fucks and edits in his scarily accurate joker impression and will break into Jason’s apartment at random to do his joker impression)

Stephanie’s Duke impression is just her making puns in a bad robot voice and Duke hates it sm bc she’s saying shit like “Don’t signal for backup bc I’m already Signal-ing this ass whooping” “The yellow is the Signal for you to run” “Hey hey hey, night time is when you do this stupid shit rn is Signal Time” “The sun is my Signal to be vigilant-y” “Setting off that alarm should’ve been enough of a Signal for you stop” (Dick made tshirts and Duke refuses to talk to him when he wears them)

You legally have to be a level 79 hater to be a vigilante in gotham so most of Steph’s videos esp after Bruce has pissed her off are just her shitting on batman in a terrible growl “Damn, I’m getting too old for this…my knees hurt so much” “Nightwing thinks he’s funny, asking me if I remember the dust bowl…mf I remember the fucking big bang” “I’m so good at this, I don’t think anyone knows I’m a vampire” “Bruce Wayne owns gotham general and can’t cure Alzheimer’s?? I hate that asshole, I don’t even remember where tf I’m going” “I wanted to be Spider-Man and now I’m this” “Ooh, I’m Batman and I hate fun, happiness, and joy” “Don’t do crime, be like me…perpetually bitchless and breaking kneecaps” “Some people need coffee for a pick me up but I just need to see a purse snatcher piss their pants” “I don’t actually meld into the shadows, I just have Apple Maps and it takes me the long way”

Batman’s fighting or arguing with black mask? Stephanie has been waiting for this moment so every video with black mask is just her making fun of black mask to the point where there’s barely any batman slander “My real names fucking Roman so I had to go all out with this stupid ass costume…I’m not even a real gothamite, I’m from metropolis” “Sionis…I don’t care… you blew up thirteen hostages” “ITS NOT MY FAULT, OKAY?! Did you know you’re supposed to wash masks? Especially if you wear the same one everyday? Bc I fucking didn’t” “…Sionis…” “THERES MOLD ON MY FACE and this mask smells like ASS” “Everyone knows that, you moron…How do you think I found you? I can smell your stench from damn near two miles away…” “I’m like scary though right??” “No, Sionis, you just have poor hygiene…and issues” “Dammit, I’m like a dollar tree version of two face” “Not quite, what’s lower than that? Dollar tree is too good for you…don’t tell joker but Harvey’s way-”

Stephanie has a two hour video of batman grappling across Gotham just shitting on metropolis and sixty seven minutes of it is just Superman slander in a terrible growl

There’s short clips of cass suddenly disappearing or appearing out of nowhere before and after dismantling someone with the michael myers theme playing in the background (Cass does dramatic flips and landings every time steph records her)

When Bruce complains about the threat to their identities and compromising ongoing missions/investigations, Stephanie (who is purposely trying to piss him off) just looks him dead in eye and goes “Well, you’re not the boss of me sooo” so Tim gives a presentation and shuts down every single argument Bruce makes just to be contrary bc he’s a fucking asshole

Tim only has a problem with it when Stephanie and Damian start working together bc Damian does concerningly accurate impressions and Damian keeps making Tim sound like a fucking idiot and it’s worse bc he can mimic his speech patterns (“I can’t do this anymore… I’m sad and pasty… Call the fifth robin, you know…the only competent robin…”)

Like Damian’s repeating one of Tim’s caffeine concoction induced rants about bagels in Tim’s voice while Steph is growling at him to focus in her batman impression

When Tim brings his complaints to Bruce about Stephanie’s youtube account, Bruce cites Tim’s own argument back to him so Tim takes over editing and recording to be an asshole

#stephanie brown #spoiler dc #bruce wayne #batman #tim drake #damian wayne #duke thomas #jason todd #dick grayson #cassandra cain #dc gotham #dcu #youtuber!stephanie brown #Damian stands at the end of Jason’s bed at 3am and just does the joker laugh for no fucking reason #Damian is 100% responsible for Jason’s mental health decline #Steph does an accurate british accent but it’s still whiny bc Alfred gave her the ‘I’m not mad I’m just disappointed’ look #Stephanie’s yt channel actually makes it easier to keep their identities secret bc she uses every batman theory in her videos #Stephanie 🤝🏾 Damian: psychological warfare on their friends and family #They probably think they’re just being mildly annoying but in actuality they’ve caused 67 mental breakdowns a week

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zepskies · 1 year

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Never Say Goodbye - Bonus Track #1

Pairing: Dean W. x Female Reader

Summary: The first time you and Dean sensed each other’s thoughts and feelings, you were just kids. It would take years to realize that you both were bonded for life, and even longer to finally meet. [Soulmate AU] (18+)

AN: The "Bonus Tracks" have arrived! AKA: Sequels to “Never Say Goodbye.”

I have two parts in the wings for you, but let's start with Part 1...

Word Count: 4,500 Tags/Warnings: Angst, supernatural shenanigans, death, cavity-inducing fluff (all to come through Parts 1 & 2)

Bonus Track #1: Disturbing the Peace

Dean walked into the bullpen of the Sioux Falls Police Department with a file in hand.

He went into one of the holding cells, where his latest perp was waiting for him with a salty attitude and an untouched paper cup filled with water.

“Jessie Deluca. Thirteen years old, already with two priors for petty theft,” Dean read off the file.

“Wasn’t me,” the kid said coolly.

Dean flashed Jessie a wry smile and sat across from him at the table.

“Sticking gum in the camera lens is creative, I’ll admit. But the nice old man who owns the 7-Eleven recognized your jacket,” Dean said, gesturing at the kid’s dark red hoodie. “Maybe next time don’t dress like a fire hydrant.”

“Plenty of people could have this jacket. Not like it’s Prada or anything,” said Jessie. He was stubborn, crossing his arms in the way only punk-ass kids could accomplish. “Besides, you’re not allowed to question me without my mom here, dipshit. I’m guessing you’ve been a cop for all of what, five minutes?”

Dean’s expression flattened into a more wan smile. “Oh, your mom’s on the way. We’re just chattin’.”

“Well I don’t feel like talking to a dumbass plebe,” Jessie quipped, with all due snark.

“All right, kid, listen the hell up,” Dean said more sharply. His gaze tightened with sternness. He glanced behind him, where he suspected your father Jack was watching. Dean was often partnered up with Jody, but she was out sick today. Which meant he had “the hawk” watching his every move.

Dean leveled the kid with a look.

“Fact is, you’ve got three strikes here, Jessie,” he said. “Now, you were dumb enough to go in with a gun. And we will find where you stashed it.”

Jessie snorted in response.

“…But you’re lucky,” Dean said. “No one got hurt this time. Problem is, at the rate we’re going here, you’re not gonna make it to next time.”

Jessie seemed to pause at that. But after a moment of indecision, he leaned forward on his crossed arms on the table.

“What part of ‘you can’t talk to me’s not getting through your thick head, Hasselhoff?”

Dean frowned, but before he could lose his temper, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He looked down and realized you were texting him.

Hey, sorry I’m going to be late tonight, you said.

Dean raised a finger at the kid. “I’ll be back.”

Jessie gave him a whatever look. Dean waited until his back was turned to roll his eyes. He exited the holding cell and found Jack on the other side.

“Kid’s a piece of work,” Dean said.

“Remind you of anybody?” Jack asked slyly.

Dean scoffed. “Maybe. I’ll be back, but let me know if his mom shows up.”

Jack nodded, and it gave Dean leave to get back to his desk and call you back. It took you so long to answer that he thought you almost wouldn’t.

“Hey, baby,” you greeted. It brought a small smile to his face.

“Hey. How’s work goin’?”

“It’s ridiculous. Jerry wants fifty new books logged and shelved by the end of the day. And we’re getting a new shipment in tomorrow,” you replied. “…Well, they’re not new. They’re ancient. Transferred from a museum that closed in Boise. But you get the idea.”

Dean’s smile threatened to grow, but it faded when he remembered why he needed to check in on you.

“Is that why you’re getting in late again tonight?” he asked.

“No, I promised I’d help Jason with his applications for grad school,” you said, making Dean frown.

“Who the hell is Jason?”

“Remember? Mrs. Jenkins’ grandson?”

Dean’s frown deepened. “No, that guy? Come on. You already helped him with, uh, cleaning out his grandma’s apartment, right?”

“Yeah, because she died, Dean.”

“Then it was cleaning out his apartment.”

“So he could move into her apartment,” you pointed out. “That he inherited upon her death.”

“And now you’re gonna go over there and share a screen all night?” Dean didn’t like that thought. Not one bit. “I don’t trust him, babe. He’s shifty.”

“Dean,” you tried patiently. “We practically grew up in the neighborhood together. I’m just helping him out because he’s gone through a rough time.”

Dean quieted. He still wasn’t totally on board, but he didn’t want to sound like a needy bitch either.

“All right, whatever,” he said.

“Don’t ‘whatever’ me,” you cajoled. “I’ll see you later tonight.”

“Right.” Perhaps he was a bit grumpy, but he felt justified. Due to both of your schedules, he hadn’t even shared a meal with you all week.

“Okay, I have to get back to work. Bye!” you said, hanging up shortly after. Dean didn’t have a chance to reply.

He sighed, pocketing his cell.

He returned to Jessie, where he noticed the water cup was now drained.

“Having fun?” he asked the kid.

“About as fun as you look right now. What, fight with your girlfriend?” Jessie sassed.

Dean gave him a flat look.

Jessie smirked. “Ah, definitely a fight.”

Dean sighed. “Wasn’t fight, just…you know what, mind your business.”

He discreetly checked his phone again, seeing if you’d sent him any other messages. But the kid had sharp eyes. He peered over the table at Dean’s background.

It was one he’d taken on his first date with you. Really, he’d surprised you with the picture when you two got to the restaurant.

You were trying to fix your hair after the wind had mussed it up. But at the angle he took it, you looked equal parts adorably confused, playfully amused, and sexy in your black suede dress and wind-swept hair.

“She’s hot,” Jessie nodded.

“Shut up,” Dean said, locking and pocketing his phone. “What’re you, like twelve? And still stealing Twix at the gas station? Do better, dude.”

“Too hot for you, even,” the kid continued, as if Dean hadn’t spoken. “Probably downloading another guy’s hard drive, if you know what I mean.”

“All right, smartass. That’s enough,” Dean said, with a more irritated frown.

That was when Jack came into the holding cell, escorting a woman inside.

“Jessie’s mother, Ms. Sandy Deluca,” Jack said.

“Just Sandy, please. You don’t have to remind me about the deadbeat I married,” she said, giving Dean a cursory (but appreciative) once-over. He gave her a thin smile.

He had to assume she was in her forties, but she also looked rough, and smelled like the crusty bowels of a bar.

“And you. What the fuck’re you doin’, huh?” Sandy bat her son across the back of her son’s head. Jessie flinched and withdrew inside, more like the child he actually was.

Dean noted all of this, sharing a subtle frown with Jack. Both men sat down across from mother and son and explained that Jessie was suspected of robbing a 7-Eleven at gun point. The owner saw him take off. And at some point, before Dean caught him, the kid managed to toss his gun.

“It’s only a matter of time before we find it. And if the prints match, that’s it,” Jack said. “Jessie gets booked for a felony charge.”

“He ain’t did it though. You don’t even have him on tape,” Sandy said. “All you got is one senile old man.”

She had a point, but not one Jack or Dean were willing to concede.

“If he admits what he did, we can work with him,” said Jack. “Maybe the felony charge gets dropped down to petty theft, and he probably only does a short stint in juvenile detention.”

Dean stared at Jessie, his thin, boyish face, his sandy brown hair, and shuttered eyes. And maybe Dean saw a bit too much of himself.

He tapped Jack’s elbow beneath the table, earning the man’s attention.

“Well, we’ll let you think on it for a few minutes,” Jack said. He got up along with Dean and headed outside the cell. They were able to look in through the one-way window.

“What’s the matter, Dean?” Jack asked.

“We can’t hold him. Not for long, unless the gun shows up,” Dean pointed out. “He stole, what, thirty bucks in bread, cans of tuna, three Twix bars? He’s a punk, but he’s not a killer. He’s just hungry.”

Jack considered this with a sigh through his nose.

“Yeah. But it’s his third strike on theft. This time he took a piece. Armed robbery, even for a kid…that’s gonna require jail time,” he said.

“Okay, how about this. Why don’t we let him go for now, hook him again when we find the gun?” Dean suggested.

“And maybe we don’t look too hard for it. That what you’re trying to tell me?” Jack asked.

Dean just held the other man’s gaze, leaving the decision up to him. But Jack had come to know his future son-in-law too well for that.

He sighed again. “All right, we’ll let him go. For now. But this is his last chance.”

Dean called his brother on the way home from work, tired, but ultimately in a better mood than he had been after talking to you.

“Hey, Dean.”

“Hey, Sammy. How’s the Big Apple?”

“Musty,” Sam said with a chuckle. “But good. Eileen and I are headed to a Broadway show tonight, to celebrate the end of semester.”

Dean smiled at that. Trust Sam to find his soulmate in a subway station. And trust the universe to land his brother with another hunter.

Or a huntress, as Dean had teased him. A banshee had killed her parents when she was a baby, and had rendered her deaf in the process. A hunter had raised her, and Eileen had continued the family business into adulthood, all the while looking for the creature that had killed her parents.

When she met Sam, however, he of course wanted to help her. He even took a week off school once they tracked the banshee to Lebanon, and helped her kill the thing himself. Now though, Sam had been subtly trying to convince her to retire from the hunting life. To build a life with him.

But, as always with hunters, Eileen seemed wary of fully committing to leave the life she’d always known.

Dean could understand that.

“That’s right! My smart-ass brother got all A’s in lawyer school,” he said. “I should get one of those bumper stickers.”

Sam scoffed. “Right, like you’d tape up the Impala like that.”

Dean grinned. “Anyway, end of semester, huh? That mean you’re coming back home soon?”

“Not this weekend, but the week after. Just in time to help you guys prep for the wedding,” said Sam. “It’s like, what, three weeks out?”

“And counting,” Dean replied. He couldn’t believe it was getting this close either.

“Eileen and I’ll stay with Bobby though. We don’t want to crowd your apartment,” Sam said. “How’s everything going, by the way? How is she?”

Dean huffed. “She’s probably just fine.”

“Probably?” Sam noted. “What’s going on?”

Dean was reluctant to talk about it, but his brother knew him too well to just let it go. He prodded until Dean had no choice but to spill it.

“The wedding’s just got her all over the place. Plus her job’s got her working evening shifts half the week sometimes,” Dean said. “And when she’s not doing that, she’s volunteering herself all over the damn neighborhood…”

Dean chuckled dryly then, realizing how much he sounded like a needy chick right now.

“I don’t know,” he said. “God, I sound like a freakin’ sap.”

“No. It sounds like you miss her,” Sam said.

“Hmm,” Dean nodded. He popped a frozen dinner into the microwave and watched it spin. “Yeah, probably.”

A lot, a voice in his mind corrected. He knew he didn’t have to say it for Sam to get the picture.

“Just tell her how you feel, man,” Sam said. “You know for a fact that there’s nothing she wouldn’t do for you.”

Sharing and caring had never been Dean’s strong suit, by any means, but he knew his brother might have a point this time.

So he waited up for you. For hours.

He started to fall asleep on the couch before he realized what time it was, creeping past midnight. He texted you, called you. It all went unanswered. Dean started worrying long before then, but he tried not to let his mind jump to conclusions.

He cleaned the kitchen and waited. He tried watching the next couple of episodes in season three of Game of Thrones, your favorite show, but couldn’t concentrate on the storylines. He usually had you to explain the complicated plot points and remind him of who’s who.

So he switched over to Dr. Sexy M.D., which you’d tried not to judge him for.

But finally, around 1:00 a.m. on a weekday, Dean felt your presence before you pull into the driveway. He was sitting on the couch, and he crossed his arms when you walked in.

Still, you gave a tired smile when you saw him. “Hey, baby.”

“Hey,” he responded, but you knew immediately that he was off. You saw the tight look on his face, his tense demeanor. You even caught a glimpse of his emotions before he cut you off…which in itself was a tell that he wasn’t in a good mood.

You frowned and set your purse and work bag next to him on the couch.

“What’s the matter?” you asked. Dean raised both brows at you, as if he was annoyed that you had to ask. It wasn’t like you could read his mind.

Well, you could, if he hadn’t closed himself off.

“Where the hell have you been?” he asked.

Your brows knitted at his tone.

“You know where I was,” you said. “I was helping Jason—”

“You’ve been with that guy at his house all night?”

You tried to give him a patient look, but you were bone tired. And you hadn’t expected to get the third degree from the minute you stepped through the door.

“Dean, I told you. We were working on his applications to grad school, mostly on his entrance essays.”

“And that really took all night, with no breaks?” he asked. Now with a more suspicious brow raise.

“Of course,” you replied, crossing your arms. “I mean, we stopped to eat dinner.”

But then you raised a finger as something occurred to you.

“And oh! He showed me his new motorcycle,” you said, with excitement that he didn’t share. “Dean, you’d freakin’ love it. I can’t remember what model he said it was, but I told him, ‘My fiancée’s a major gear head. He’d love to get a motorcycle.’ But I’d literally die if you made me get on one of those things—”

“So, correct me if I’m wrong,” Dean said, interrupting you as he got up from the couch to stand across from you.

“You spent all night at some guy’s house. You had dinner with him, and he tried to impress you with his new goddamn motorcycle?”

You considered what he was suggesting, and you had to suppress a grimace. Yeah, it did sound bad, but it really wasn’t.

“It wasn’t like that at all, Dean,” you said. “Jason’s just…he’s feeling a bit lost. He wants to continue school, but he’s not sure if he can do it. His grandma practically raised him, and it’s a whole thing—”

“That’s not your damn problem!” Dean said, raising his voice. “You realize that, right?”

You crossed your arms, leveling him with a frown.

“Okay, you need to take that way down,” you warned him.

Dean took a beat, briefly closing his eyes as he reigned himself in.

“I’m sorry, all right,” he said. And he drew a hand over his tired face. “It’s just…lately, for the past few months, it seems like you’re never here. We’re like ships passing in the night. And if I didn’t check in, I’d never fucking hear from you.”

You sighed, staring back at your fiancée with both hot guilt and a prickle of resentment.

“So, do you like how it feels?” you asked.

Dean sharpened. “Excuse me?”

“I’m just saying, welcome to my world, Dean,” you said. “I lived that existence for the first two years of our relationship.”

He couldn’t exactly refute that, but it still hurt to be reminded of what he put you through.

“What, are you doing this on purpose or something?” he asked. “You’re punishing me. Is that it?”

You relented then, reaching for his arm.

“Of course not, Dean,” you said. “I just find it ironic that you can’t handle just a taste of what I went through.”

Dean’s lips pursed.

“Until I finish training our new hires, there isn’t much I can do about what my job demands of me,” you said. “But if you want to help me, how about everything I’m doing to plan this wedding? It’s literally a month away, and there’s plenty to do. I feel like I’m going insane with these vendors calling me 24/7, mostly demanding money.”

You covered your face with your hands for a moment, shaking your head.

“Tomorrow I have my final fitting for the dress, after work,” you said. “This weekend I have to finalize the seating chart, make the final deposit on the venue, and a shit-ton of other things.”

“Okay, well I can help with that,” Dean said, trying to take your hand. “All you need to do is ask.”

You gave him a peeved look.

“You see, I would. But the last time I tried, you said you were working late,” you said. “I called my dad to see where you were. Come to find out, you’d left early.”

Shit, Dean thought.

“When was that?” he asked.

“Last week, Thursday,” you jogged his memory.

Shit, he thought again.

What you didn’t know was that he left early that day to pick up your wedding ring, which he’d had customized for you. But he couldn’t tell you that without giving away the surprise.

“Listen, there’s an explanation for that.”

“Well right now, I don’t feel like hearing it,” you said. You slipped your hand out of his and left him to beeline for the shower.

Dean watched you go, silently simmering. Was this what he had to look forward to when you two actually got married?

You and Dean didn’t even look at one another as you got ready for bed in silence.

You were annoyed that he didn’t trust you. A bit resentful that he chose now to complain about you being busy, when you’d tried so many times to get him to help you with the wedding planning process.

But at the same time, as you two climbed into bed without uttering so much as a word, it felt like you won the battle, but lost the war.

And you didn’t feel any better when you woke up the next morning.

Because when you saw the empty side of the bed next to you, but didn’t hear Dean puttering around the apartment, you realized that he’d left for work without saying goodbye.

He usually greeted you with a kiss on the cheek or the forehead; the best alarm you’d ever had. But today, you were forced to wake with your alarm. So you turned it off on your phone and dutifully got up to get ready for work.

Your mind was buzzing with too much coffee on the drive over to the museum, and when you arrived, your phone sounded off in your purse. You checked it and found a text from Jason Jenkins.

Hey, thanks for coming over to help yesterday, he said. I think I’ll actually get into grad school now. These essays are top notch thanks to you.

Your lips quirked with a smile. You replied as you walked into the museum, waving hello to your boss, Jerry, as you went.

You’re welcome! you replied. Dean’s words from last night replayed in your mind, so you decided to keep it brief. But then, Jason replied again.

But I also had a good time last night, he said. You’re just so easy to talk to…would you want to come over for dinner? I make a mean carbonara.

You deflated when you read the text. Goddamn it.

And you knew then that Dean might’ve had a point last night. With a sigh, you raised your gaze to the heavens. You didn’t have enough coffee to deal with this.

But you knew you had to reply.

Look, I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression but—

You paused, then deleted that response. You didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but maybe you could say something that made your boundaries clear without making him feel bad about himself.

Sorry, Jason. I’m staying in with my fiancée tonight. But good luck! I’m sure you’ll get into grad school.

With that message sent, you pocketed your phone and continued to your desk in the museum library. It was surrounded by tall shelves of books from all over the world, and you often enjoyed perusing through them when you had down time (not that you had much of that these days).

Jerry came in, wheeling a large shipment of boxes. You gave him a wan smile at the sight.

“Delivery,” he said. “Need these books logged and shelved, please. By end of the day, if you can. Oh, and tell Charlotte we need more toner for the copy machine.”

You playfully saluted your boss. “On it.”

“Thanks,” he said. “I know it’s been a lot for the past few months, but you’re doing great, kid.”

You didn’t appreciate the kid remark, but you did thank him graciously. It was nice to be recognized for your work because you did take pride in it. But right now, as you looked at the ten large boxes piled on the dolly, you really wished you could control + alt + delete this day.

Instead, you sighed and opened the first box, pulling out a stack of heavy books. One of them caught your eye, as it was leather-bound, but bordered with gold, and had hieroglyphic images on the cover. The largest of which was a golden sun, encircling a lion’s head.

You weren’t supposed to touch the books without gloves on, but you were so intrigued that you forgot to slip on a pair before you reached for it in wonder.

The moment you touched the cover, however, a burst of energy swirled around the book—and then wrapped around your hand.

You didn’t realize it, but your mind went hazy as amber rings of magic illuminated your pupils.

Dean got home from a long day of work, sighing when he saw that the apartment was empty.

He felt bad for how things got left off between the two of you last night, but frankly, he was surprised (and maybe a little hurt) that you didn’t reach out to him at all today.

Usually when you guys argued, you were the first one to reach out to him after you both had time to cool down. You could be stubborn about things, just like him, but you were also quick to forgive. And that often forced him to confront his honest feelings.

When his phone started ringing, Dean paused in the living room and answered it.

“Hello?”

“Hi, there! Is this Dean?”

“You got me. Who’s this?” he asked. It was the receptionist at the shop where you found your wedding dress. Apparently, you hadn’t shown up for the appointment of your final fitting, and you hadn’t called to reschedule.

“Well, that’s not like her,” Dean said with a frown. You’d never dropped the ball on anything having to do with the wedding. Not once.

“Let me get ahold of her and we’ll get back to you,” he said. The receptionist agreed, and the moment he hung up with her, he called you. It rang for a while, but ultimately went to voicemail.

A tendril of worry started to grow in his mind, but he tried to keep it at bay when he called your boss next.

According to Jerry, you took your lunch break early and never came back.

Dean’s worry became a living thing after that.

But before he could call Jack and mount a full police squad search, the front door of the apartment unlocked, and you walked through the door.

You looked completely fine in your business casual white blouse, pencil skirt, and heels, but you didn’t have your purse, work bag, or any of the usual things you carried.

Dean hung up with your boss and eyed you in disbelief.

“Well, well. I guess you’re playin’ hookie today,” he remarked dryly.

You gave him a cursory glance, but you all but ignored him on your way to the kitchen. Dean’s incredulousness grew, along with a spark of irritation.

He followed you into the kitchen, where you started rifling through the pantry looking for spices and herbs, of all things. You examined a clear parcel of thyme.

“What are you doing, babe?” Dean asked. “Are you tired? Did you just need to take a beat? Because I can understand that…”

You didn’t seem to be hearing him, so he grasped your hand.

“Hey, what the hell’s going on with you?” he asked. Your brows knitted together in annoyance.

“By the gods, what a nuisance.” You slipped your hand out of his and continued what you’re doing.

Dean felt struck with hurt as he stared at you once again in disbelief.

But then, a spidey sense began to prickle at the back of his neck. This wasn’t like you at all…

You finally seized him up through impassive eyes.

“Pretty,” you remarked, “but the world of men seems to have remained the same. Needy, clawing, and pathetic.”

Dean’s brows furrowed. He called your name uncertainly, but he realized something.

He couldn’t feel you. Not your thoughts, and not even your emotions through the soul bond. It was a gut instinct, but Dean's was rarely wrong.

Whoever was wearing your face, it wasn’t his girl.

You smirked and stepped toward him, drawing near enough to place a hand on his chest. He tensed, knowing that this wasn’t about to end well.

With a burst of amber-hued magic, you flung him across the room.

Dean crash-landed against the couch with a yelp and a grunt. He’d definitely be feeling that in his back later.

He heard the crashing of glass and ceramics hitting the hardwood floor after he fell. When he was able to slowly pick himself up, he saw that he’d shoved the couch into the coffee table, where a vase and a few frames had fallen.

And when he managed to lift his gaze to the rest of his surroundings, he found an empty apartment. The front door was left ajar.

You were gone…

Or at least, whoever possessed you was.

AN: So first of all, sorry for the cliffhanger lol. But Sam's soulmate is revealed! (I was VERY upset when Sam and Eileen didn't get their reunion when Jack brought back everyone after the "snap.")

Like my top note said, this will be two parts. Let me know what you think of Part 1!

Next Time:

Dean searches for you with Sam, Eileen, and Bobby's help. But there's just a few weeks before the wedding.

What could possibly go wrong?

Keep Reading: Bonus Track #2

Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester Masterlist

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