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randomshyperson · 3 years

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Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Sorry for your lost - Part I “I will grieve”.

Serie Masterlist here || Part II|| Read on AO3

Summary: When your wife Natasha passes away in a car accident, a part of you dies with her. It takes a few months of mourning for your psychiatrist thinks the best alternative is for you to join a grief group. And there you meet Wanda Maximoff, and learn to live again.

Warnings: (+16) mentions of death, panic attacks and anxiety, grief, self sabotage, mentions of abusive family background, mutual attraction, explicit consent, therapeutic conversations about death, self-deprecation, healthy methods of coping with grief, possible triggers about anxiety, hurtful behaviors, domestic wanda.

Chapter warnings: Heavy angst, death.

Author’s notes: Hello readers! I'm finally back to posting something, but I disappeared for a good reason, I was writing three new series. And here is the first of them. I really enjoyed this work and it's something I've been trying to write since I watched WandaVision, and only now I've managed to put it into words. I am not finished yet, but there is only one chapter left, so your reading will not be affected. Pay attention to the warnings, and good reading!

Tag list (let me know if you wanna be tagged)

@mionemymind / @abimess / @stephanieromanoff / @yourtaletotell / @tomy5girls / @justagaypanicking / @thegayw1tch

//-//

Chapter One - I’ll grieve.

You wished you could go back to sleep as soon as you opened your eyes. The sound of your alarm buzzed loudly throughout the room, and after putting it on snooze mode at least four times, you finally got annoyed enough to grab it and throw it across the room. But the sound continued.

Letting out a grumble of dissatisfaction, you pushed the comforter off you, and sat up in your bed. Your room was a mess, but you just skipped through the clothes on the floor to reach the phone, turning off the alarm through the new crack you made in the screen.

"Honey, are you up?" you heard your mother's distant voice calling you through the door, probably from the living room or the kitchen. "Don't forget your therapy today."

You sighed impatiently, running your hands through your hair. The damn group therapy.

Grumbling lightly, you forced yourself to take a shower, not wanting "poor hygiene" to end up on your progress report card.

A while later, when you were finished, you went into the kitchen. Your mother was using her laptop on the counter, and just waved at you.

"Are you going to take me?" You asked her with your hands in your pockets. Your mother took her eyes off the screen to evaluate the sweatshirt you were wearing, and you rolled your eyes at her disapproving expression.

"You know, you could try driv-"

"Mom" You cut her off in earnest, your heart racing momentarily. You don't drive. An she knows. Your mother sighs, putting her hands up in a sign of surrender.

"It was just a suggestion dear." She retorts as she stands up, reaching for her car key on the key rack exiting the kitchen. "But I'm busy with the store, you'll need to take the subway next time."

"Thanks for the support." You grumble as you step out in front and your mother lets out a wry chuckle.

You frown and let out a dissatisfied exclamation as you step outside feeling the sun's rays on your face.

"You're not a vampire, cut the drama." Mocks your mother by pushing you lightly to get you out of the way.

You grumble as you walk to the car. And when you are sitting on the seat, your mother is starting the vehicle and she asks:

"Are you sure you're not going to eat anything?"

Looking out the window, you just mumble that you're not hungry, and she shakes her head in disapproval before you back the car up. You don't speak any more on the way.

//-//

Your mother dropped you off in the parking lot of a gymnasium where the therapy group would be meeting. You sighed as you got out, and thanked her for the ride and the money she gave you to eat, even though you probably weren't going to use.

Resisting the urge to run away, you forced your feet to walk toward the place.

There were a few people at the door, but you didn't smile at any of them, entering the place with your head down and your hands in your pockets.

And then a woman greeted you, and put a little sticker with your name on your shirt when you gave her your papers.

Then she signaled the way you should go, and you ended up on the gymnasium court, where there was a wheel of chairs, and a table with food and drink, and several people scattered around, who you thought were part of your therapy group.

Sighing impatiently you made your way to the bleachers of the venue, hoping to be alone until the session started and you could leave.

Fortunately it wasn't long before the leader signaled for everyone to sit in the circle, and you sighed as you stood up. You ended up with one of the chairs on the far left opposite the therapist, which could be bad since he would see you clearly.

"Thank you very much for coming." Said the therapist smiling gently as his gaze roved over everyone in the circle. You kept your gaze on your shoes. He made a noise with his throat. "Who would like to start today?"

The silence lasted for a few seconds, but then someone was speaking. You forced yourself to come back to reality and pay attention.

"[...] and this is my fourth week around here." Said a woman in a leather jacket. You noticed the army lanyard around her neck. She was talking about an accident when you got distracted again. Lightly poking your eye with your finger, you tried to focus again, letting out a low sigh. And then the therapist was talking again.

"We have new faces today." He said and you felt your heart speed up. You absolutely did not want to talk in front of strangers. "Why don't you share with us, miss?"

You raised your gaze to meet that of the therapist, smiling gently at you. The rest of the group looked at you as well. Taking a deep breath, you began to wiggle your fingers on your leg.

"I don't... I've never been in a group." You say clumsily. "What should I say?"

"Whatever you wish to say." He answers with a smile. You swallow the urge to tell him you didn't want to talk at all. Realizing your lack of response, he is quick to add. "Why don't you tell us why you are here?."

You let out a dry laugh.

"I really didn't have much choice." You retort wryly. The therapist looks slightly surprised, but makes no mention of interrupting you. You let out a sigh before clarifying. "My psychiatrist, she...she didn't approve of my social ratings. She wanted me to talk to other people. People who... went through the same things I did." You count staring at the floor. When you look up again, the group still waits for you to continue, and you sigh, running your hands through your hair. "I haven't... I... I haven't talked to other people outside of my family in six months. Not since..."

You move your head, sniffling slightly as you straighten your posture. The therapist clears his throat.

"You just need to share whatever you are ready to tell us." He says gently, you nod slightly feeling extremely vulnerable. "But remember that this is a safe space. There is nothing to fear here."

And then he is talking about methods of easing the guilt, and dealing with the pain and you were distracted again. You would like to go back to bed. It must have taken a while, but the session is finally over.

The group dispersed around the room, and you went toward the therapist's desk to have him sign your schedule. He smiled as you approached.

"Miss Y/N/L, I was happy to hear that you would be joining us today." He said greeting you with a handshake. You nodded, taking the paper from your pocket. He chuckled, but accepted it. "You know, I'd like you to try to have a partner in the group, it's recommended for cases like yours."

"What do you mean cases like me?" You ask snidely, but he doesn't care.

"Doctor Harkness gave me your chart." He explained as he signed the paper you gave him while you frowned. "Extreme Social Anxiety in the first few months of treatment. Tendency to complete isolation, introverted..."

"Yeah I know my problems, buddy." You interrupt him with irritation. "You don't have to list them for me."

The therapist gives a lopsided chuckle, and holds out the signed paper to you. But he adds with a serious look:

"I'm here to help you, Y/N." He says. "Don't forget that."

You don't respond and take the paper, turning toward the exit.

//-//

Your week passes slowly and tortuously. Which is surprising because you barely get out of bed. And then it is group therapy day again, and you are making a new crack at your cell phone screen.

Your mother greets you with a pat on the back as you enter the kitchen, and she is walking past you toward her own room.

You know you have to take the subway today, and you are trying not to think about it too much. As you are walking out the door, your eyes pass quickly over your car key, and you think you have a flash of memory, but you shake your head quickly, pushing the thought away. And then you walk forward.

And you are late for the session, because you can't take the bus to the station, since your feet simply didn't obey you. But that's okay, you don't really care.

You weren't the only one who was late. When you went to enter the door, a red-haired woman bumped into you, also running to get in. She smiled slightly as she apologized, and you just made room for her to enter first.

"Sorry Stephen." She said to the therapist as soon as you two entered the gymnasium, "I had an emergency with the kids."

The man just shook his head with a smile, and waved for you both to sit down.

"And why were you late today, miss Y/L/N?" He asked you. You shrugged your shoulders.

"I didn't wanna come." You retorted and the group giggled, and the sudden sound startled you slightly, but you just sat with your arms crossed.

"Do you want to try again?" He retorted with light humor in his voice. And you bit the inside of your cheeks. And then you looked down at the floor.

"I couldn't get on the bus." You confessed next. Stephen looked at you tenderly, though, and you didn't like the feeling of your chest heaving slightly.

"And why do you think that happened?"

You shrugged, uncomfortable.

"I don't know. I... There were too many people." You said embarrassed. And then you started twiddling your fingers, feeling all eyes on you. "I just... I knew I'd have to say hello to the driver, and the conductor. And then I would pass strangers in the hallway, and one of them would sit next to me. And I just... I couldn't."

Stephen nodded slightly in agreement.

"It's okay, Y/N. " He stated. "No one is judging you here."

You let out a dry laugh, and Stephen blinks in surprise, which spurs you to explode.

"Everyone is judging me, Doc." You say through gritted teeth, swinging your leg. "It's as if I can hear the gears in people's brains forming opinions about me." You state with a sigh. "Like my mother for example. She...she...acts like I'm past the time of mourning." You explain with tears in your eyes. "Like there's a limit, and I'm extending her goodwill. Because it's been six months, and she doesn't want me to be sad anymore. But guess what? I don't know how to move on!" You state angrily. "I can't! If I don't miss her, what's left for me? If I don't... God, I can't do this."

And you stand up, wiping your tears away, and walk out of the gymnasium, heading for the restrooms. You feel your heart racing, and it's hard to breathe.

As you rest your hands on the sink, your brain starts to wander back to the day of the accident again. You choke, because it feels like you're sinking again. You see the water rising through the metal of the car. Your hands on the steering wheel, and then on the seat belt. You shake your head, pushing the images away, and rush to turn on the faucet in front of you and pour the water on your face.

You take a deep breath, trying to stop the tears. And then there is someone entering.

"Are you okay?" Stephen asks and you nod lightly, ignoring the trembling in your hands as you stare at him through the reflection of the mirror. "I gave a break to the group, wouldn't you like to walk with me?"

"I'm not good company right now." You grumble but he smiles, nodding slightly as if to repeat the invitation. You take a deep breath before turning around.

You walk silently and slowly to the outside of the gymnasium, and then he is speaking again.

"You were very brave today." He comments, and you let out a dry laugh. "Why don't you believe me?"

"I panicked today." You say. " It doesn't sound very brave to me."

Stephen smiles guiding you through the gymnasium entrance toward the parking lot.

"You talked about a trauma to a group of people." He says. "That takes a lot of courage, even if you don't believe it."

"I don't believe in anything." You grumble, but Stephen doesn't mind your hostility. He stays with his friendly posture.

"I would like you to accept my request from before." He said after a moment. "About a group partner."

You let out a sigh.

"I don't even know what that means." You retort with slight impatience as you reach the edge of the parking lot. You notice the garden a few feet ahead of you.

"It's like a therapy buddy." He explains with a smile. "We encourage socializing here. That's why Agatha recommended this group to you."

"Oh, of course you do. Agatha is a bitch." You wryly wipe your hands across your face. Stephen laughs lightly. "How does that work anyway? Do I have to hold someone's hand? Exchange friendship bracelets?"

"No, it's much better." He says with a chuckle. "You talk to that person. You exchange experiences with them. You learn to trust somebody else again."

"My god, it looks like a fucking Disney movie." You retort with irritation and Stephen lets out a laugh. And then you let out a sigh, shrugging your shoulders. "Okay, I'll do it. I have nothing to lose, and it seems that neither you nor Agatha will leave me alone if I don't agree."

"We want you to feel better. Don't take this as a punishment." He says, guiding you back to the gym. You nod slightly, thinking that it really does feel like punishment anyway.

//-//

You see Agatha the same week. Your appointments have been switched to monthly meetings instead of weeks as they were at the beginning of treatment, and while you appreciate the familiarity of seeing her, you can't help but feel irritated with her.

"Someone's grumpy." She comments as soon as you sit down on the couch in the room, to which you roll your eyes.

"You are always so very tender, Agatha." You mock as you cross your legs, hoping the time will pass soon.

Agatha laughs lightly, finishing tidying up a few things on her desk. And then she gets up and sits down in the armchair a few feet in front of the sofa where you are, carrying a small notebook in her hands.

"So, why don't you tell me how your your first two sessions in group therapy went?"

You let out a dry laugh.

"Like Stephen didn't tell you everything." You sneer and Agatha just smiles, waiting for you to speak. You let out an impatient sigh, before stating wryly. "It was amazing, doc. It only took two sessions for me to have a panic attack, so thank you for that."

"Why do you think that happened?"

You squeezed your eyes.

"I have no idea." You retorted. "I'm not the doctor here." Agatha laughs lightly, and then opens her notebook and starts writing something. You sigh impatiently. “Really, you're going to start that again?”

"If you don't talk, I write." She states simply, and you roll your eyes, shifting on the couch uncomfortably.

"Agatha, I just... I couldn't get on a bus, okay?" you tell her, and she closes her notebook to look at you attentively. You take a deep breath. "There were a lot of people. I don't mind walking anyway. It helps me think."

"You don't mind walking eight blocks?" She asks with a slight irony. "That's pretty athletic of you."

"It's weird that you know my address off the top of your head." You play lightly, and she just laughs, straightening her posture.

"Why don't you just tell me what you want to tell me?"

"Why don't you ask me what you want to ask?"

Agatha blinks slightly in surprise, and then she shakes her head slightly, opening her notebook again. You sigh.

"Okay, sorry." You say, and she looks at you for a moment before closing the object again. I... I thought I was drowning again.”

"Are your nightmares back?" She asks seriously, and you deny it with your head.

"I feel too anxious to sleep." You tell. "And then I black out from exhaustion in the night or in the morning. I don't dream anymore."

"Have you been taking your medication?"

You sigh.

"Of course I have." You say. "I don't... I'm having trouble keeping my mind still. Like the first few months, you know. Everything seems so noisy now."

Agatha nods slightly, becoming thoughtful for a few moments.

"I know it may sound strange to hear that, but that means you're getting better." She declares and you frown in surprise, then let out a dry laugh.

"How is my peak anxiety a good thing?"

She opens the book again, but before you can ask what you said wrong, she is reading.

"The first day you were here, you said you felt like you were empty." She narrated and you swallowed dryly. "During your first two months, you continued to describe that you felt like an empty shell. And that you no longer had any dreams, thoughts, or opinions. Without your wife, you said you were no longer here."

You felt your eyes fill with water at the mention of her. But you swallowed your emotions. Agatha turned a page, and read for a few seconds, and then looked at you.

"With your history of anxiety, your mind was remarkably quiet after the passing of your wife." She says. "But now that you're on medication, and therapeutic treatment, plus you're socializing even superficially with the world again, you're starting to feel things again. That's progress."

You look away from her, nodding slightly, trying to believe her words, and trying not to be so terrified at the thought of learning to live again. Without Nat.

You choke slightly, holding back a sob, and then Agatha hands you a box of tissues, but you refuse with a nod, wiping away the tears that have slightly escaped.

"What do you want to talk about now?" She asks after a moment. You take a deep breath, still trying to calm yourself.

"Last week I took a cold bath." You count. "It was snowing."

Agatha blinks in surprise at the information and then lets out a giggle.

"You want me to write it in the book don't you?"

You laugh, wiping away the last of the insistent tears. You just hope Agatha could help you.

//-//

You hate coffee. But you barely slept last night, and now you need to stay awake during the group meeting, so instead of walking to the chair in the corner like you used to, you detour your way to the food and beverage table as soon as you arrive at the gym.

There are a few members around, but you don't look at them, just sidestepping as you extend your arm to the coffee bottle. You pour some, and as you touch the cup, you notice. It's cold.

"Hey sorry about that." Said a girl you thought was named Val or something, as soon as she saw you touching the cup. "We mixed up the shifts yesterday and nobody made new coffee."

You rolled your eyes, picking up the cup and throwing it in the trash. Then you forced a wry smile on the girl and walked outside.

It was cold, but you are boiling with rage. It was just a damn cup of coffee, you thought as you closed your eyes and tried to reduce your anger. Just coffee.

You stumbled with fright when Stephen called out to you.

"We'll get started in a minute." He said looking at you curiously. You just nodded, following him after a few seconds.

You bit the inside of your cheek when you noticed the same coffee girl as before, now sitting where you usually sat. The universe was testing you today.

You just sighed, twiddling your fingers inside your pocket, and walked over to one of the free chairs.

After Stephen gave the briefing, he asked if everyone was all right, and the group lied in unison. You were almost asleep when he called your name.

"I would like to choose your partner today." He says and you feel your heart racing as you straighten your posture. "But I want to know if you have any preferences."

You blink in confusion, and roll your eyes.

"I don't know anyone here, but I'm sure they will all hate me equally, doc." You tried to joke, but Stephen only looked at you with concern.

"No one does or will hate you." He says and you swallow dryly, looking away as you mumble that it was just a joke. Stephen pauses momentarily before continuing. "You know that everyone here has their own experiences of loss and they are unique in their own way, even if they have similarities." He begins and you just wish he would speak soon who your partner is at once. "Usually we don't put new members together, but with the release of one of our members, the number ended up getting odd." He explains. "Anyway, I'm sure you and Mrs. Maximoff will get along very well together."

You frowned slightly at the whole explanation. Then you looked around the group, and realized that this Maximoff woman was the late redhead from the previous session who looked at you curiously. You looked away from her to Stephen.

"Thank you, doc." You said with a slight irony and Stephen just nodded smiling.

"Partners are grieving companions ladies." He says. "We will assess your progress at each session, and then switch partners once the necessary improvement has been achieved."

You grumbled in understanding, and looked away to your lap. When Stephen began to ask about the stories, your mind wandered to the departure time.

And when the session was over you wished you could go to sleep. But Stephen made a slight movement of his head in Maximoff's direction, and you understood that you should talk to her.

Ignoring the urge to show Stephen the middle finger, you just sighed as you got up from your chair and lazily walked over to the woman at the exit. She was talking to a man, and you were even more anxious to address not one, but two strangers.

"Hi." You greeted awkwardly, and both of them turned to you with mild curiosity.

"Hey, you're Y/N, right?" Said the man with a smile as he held out his hand to you. "I'm Bucky. James Barnes actually, but everyone calls me Bucky." He said and you shook his hand, smiling awkwardly. Then he quickly pointed at the woman. "And this is Wanda Maximoff, your grief partner."

"Hi." Wanda said shyly as she offered her hand to greet you. You accepted as clumsily as she did.

"Sorry, I don't know how this works." You say. "Should we exchange numbers or something? Or is that just a therapy thing?"

Bucky gives a little chuckle.

"Oh believe me, they'll know if you're not making it work." He counters. "My first partner was Sam Wilson and we wanted to jump on each other's necks whenever we saw each other. And then Stephen asked us to move in together." He says and you blink in surprise. "We're married now, but that's not the point. I guess I'm getting off topic..."

"Bucky." Wanda interrupts with a smile, and he smiles half-heartedly as well. You frown, annoyed by Bucky's story. You didn't want to marry anyone. "I guess we'll make it work, I hope you don't mind having the company of two tiny restless creatures on our walks."

You look at her with confusion and then you understand, smiling shyly.

"No, it's okay." You say. "I like children."

"Really?" She asks in surprise.

You nod slightly. "Unlike adults, they tell the truth."

Wanda seemed to be thoughtful, but then Bucky lets out an exclamation.

"As group guide, I have to pass the to-do list to you ladies." He says pulling a small notebook from the back pocket of his pants. He pulls out a sheet of paper and hands it to Wanda. "Partners need to develop these habits of socializing and coping with grief together. And yes, there is a test."

You sigh impatiently, tucking a loose string behind your ear.

"That sounds fun." You mock lightly making them smile.

"Anyway, good luck to you two." He says tenderly. "And Wanda, call me if you need help with Tommy. I know a good therapist."

You frown slightly, not understanding what he is referring to, but you prefer to stay out of matters that are none of your business. And then Bucky kisses Wanda on the cheek in farewell and waves to you smiling before leaving. You switch foot weights when you are alone with Wanda. Talking to other people is not exactly your strong suit these past few months.

"So..." You start clumsily when she turns to you.

"So." She repeats equally embarrassed. You then clear your throat and rush to pull your cell phone out of your pocket and hand it to her.

"Give me your number." You say. "That way we can arrange...whatever this is."

Wanda smiles weakly as she accepts the device, and you ignore the curious look when she notices the cracks in the screen. A moment later she hands the cell phone back to you.

"I gotta go." She says. "I need to pick up my kids from school."

You nod slightly and force a smile to say goodbye, and Wanda copies your movement before leaving.

You stare at your cell phone next, noticing the slight anxiety in your stomach as you read the contact "Wanda Maximoff" on the screen.

//-//

By the weekend, you are miserable. Just like the first few months.

You spilled some tea under your bed, and when you went to clean it up, you ended up taking the objects that were lying there. And then you found a crumpled piece of paper.

It was your farewell speech. The words you wrote down to speak on the day of the funeral. The paper you pulled out of your pocket when you got home from the ceremony and probably fell under the bed when you collapsed on the floor from crying so hard.

Suddenly your chest tightened and you couldn't breathe. But you didn't want your mother to worry, so you concentrated on remembering the exercises your therapist had taught you.

And when the room started to get too small, you left.

But because it was cold and rainy, you had just taken a hot shower and had decided to brew tea before you finished putting on a sweater, you had bent down to pick up your socks, and the liquid fell on the floor.

You went outside without your shoes, and your mother let out a worried exclamation when she saw you standing outside, staring at nothing.

"Honey?" She asked walking out the door after seeing you through the kitchen window. "Honey, what is it?"

You didn't answer. Your face was wet. Your mother's hands wrapped around your shoulders, and she gently pushed you inside, worried that you would end up getting hypothermia.

"I'm fine." You gasped as she led you inside, but she just shook her head. "I'm fine."

"No, honey." She retorted making you frown. "You're not."

"Mom."

"Sit down."

And then there were blankets around you, and socks on your feet. And your mother was in the kitchen, on the phone, but everything seemed stuffy. You began to be absent again. Thousands of memories flashing through your eyes.

An image of yourself on that living room floor, laughing while your girlfriend had her arms wrapped around you. Your mother was pouring a glass of wine for each of you, and you were happy to tell her about your engagement.

Then an image of you running across the room, trying to dodge the tickles your father tickled you while you laughed.

Then a puppy in your hands on the floor. You looked at it fondly, laughing at how cute it looked.

Looking down, you saw a hand on your thigh. It was your wife's, the ring on her finger. She smiled at you. You were happy because that was the day you told your mother about the house purchase.

You gasped slightly when you felt someone's hand on your shoulder suddenly.

"I need you to tell me three things you can see." It was Agatha. God, you should have been out of reaction long enough for her to get here. Wiping away your tears, you took a deep breath, trying to reason straight.

"I... I..." You started, but your brain didn't seem to obey you. You took another deep breath. You could see the carpet, so you told her so.

"Two more." Agatha asked tenderly, her hand caressing your back from top to bottom.

"The... table." You replied crying. "I can see the table."

"That's right, honey." She said. "Just one more now. Tell me what else?"

"My feet." You add breathlessly. "I can see my feet."

"Now breathe with me, okay?" She asks. "Like I taught you."

The exercises help you to calm down again. You apologize for scaring your mother, and for making Agatha drive to your house, but neither of them is upset with you. You feel exhausted, but the doctor wants to talk to you after she accepts the cup of coffee your mother offers her.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" She asks as you sit on the covered porch, fluffy pillows around you.

You lower your gaze to the floor, sniffling lightly.

"I found my grief speech." You count. "Under my bed. The next minute I was outside."

Agatha sighs.

"You ready to talk about the accident."

You raise your eyes quickly, frowning, because it wasn't a question.

"W-what?"

She takes a deep breath, crossing her legs.

"It's suffocating you." She clarifies. "You need to talk or these attacks will happen again."

"I-I don't..."

"It won't be today." She interrupts with a tender smile. "Tonight you need to sleep. But we won't prolong this any longer. You need to talk about it, even if it’s only to scream."

Clenching your jaw, you hold back your tears as Agatha takes one last look at you before getting up. She murmurs that she will see you on Monday, but you don't look at her.

//-//

You don't sleep well on Sunday. And it's definitely because you can't stop thinking about your appointment.

And it goes well for the first twenty minutes. Agatha doesn't pressure you, and agrees to hear about your week, without mentioning the incident on Thursday.

There is a pause after you have told her about the dog barking noise in the early morning and then you know it is time to speak up.

"I was driving." You say softly suddenly, ignoring the feeling that your throat wants to close up. Agatha has her hands folded in her lap as she listens to you. "She...she was sleeping in the passenger seat." You swallow dryly, trying to count and not get caught up in the memory again, your heart racing. Talking is almost like going back there. "I looked at her for a moment and I got distracted... and then... we just..."

You only realize that you are crying because tears fall on your hand. You blink, sniffling. Taking a deep breath, you continue.

"We fell into the water, and Nat...she just...I couldn't get her belt off." You gasp breathlessly. "The water just...kept coming up around us. And she looked at me, and... she just shook her head like she knew what was going to happen." You tell between sobs. Agatha's eyes water, but she doesn't interrupt. "I just...she pushed me. She pushed my hands away and she told me she would follow me. And god... my dumb brain believed her!" You confess angrily. "She told me she was right behind me! And I swam out and when I came up she wasn't with me."

You shut up, not being able to tell anymore through the sobs. You can't even see the office clearly because of the tears.

It takes a moment for you to speak again, your head down.

"When I swam back, the car was completely covered with water everywhere" You recount. "I...I was going to dive again.... I wanted to get her out of there. But the people who saw the accident jumped in after us. And they pulled me out of the water. And I kept thinking that if I hadn't been distracted, she...she would be...."

"No." Agatha interrupts by offering you a tissue. "Natasha had a stomach injury, don't you remember?" She counters and you gasp, the words echoing in your brain. "That's why you couldn't remove the belt."

And then you were remembering clearly now.

Soft music echoed in the car as you hummed the tune and drove to your friends' house. Your wife mumbled softly beside you, making you smile as you watched the sleeping figure. The red hair in front of her face.

"Hey sleepyhead." You called softly, looking away from the track for a moment. "We're almost there."

Nat muttered in agreement. You bit your lip, thinking she looked beautiful. And then you heard a noise, and a white light in the window. You barely had time to frown when the impact threw your car off the road.

Your body tensed immediately as you sat up, looking around with desperation. The car was sinking fast and you turned to Nat.

A wound on her forehead was bleeding, and she was clearly disoriented as you touched her hands. You hurried to unbuckle her belt, but it was jammed tightly in her waist, and you gasped in shock at the wound.

"N-no." You grumbled, trying to move the metal, but Nat gasped in pain, pushing your hands away. You could barely breathe in desperation. Your feet were freezing, because the water was already at your ankles. "Babe, move please. We have to get out."

Nat advanced toward you, taking off your belt. You tried to touch her, but she pushed your hands away again, intending to guide you out.

" Sweetheart, go! Open the door! " she commanded and you shook your head, the water on your knees. Nat forced a smile, the tears in her eyes made your stomach turn. "Don't worry love. I'm right behind you."

As you opened the door, the water moved all the way into the car, and you held your breath Nat repeated the words "I'm right behind you" one more time. And then you swam out.

When you reached the surface, you were alone.

Sobbing, you couldn't say anything else to Agatha, and she proceeded to stroke your back, trying to soothe you with words of affirmation.

"I need you to remember some things honey." She says tenderly. "You couldn't have helped Natasha. She got stuck. You have to stop blaming yourself for what happened." Agatha whispers to you, and you sob. "Remember the investigation, okay? The police said that the driver of the truck was drunk and hit your car after he fell asleep. It wasn't your fault." Agatha says trying to remind you. You gasp, countless memories flooding your head at once. "Say that for me, will you?" She asks and you gasp. "Tell me it wasn't your fault."

You sob, burying your face in your hands. It takes a moment, but you repeat the words.

"It wasn't my fault." You whisper breathlessly. "It...it wasn't my fault."

When you leave therapy that day, you feel different.

You think that it is the healing process that is beginning to work. You still have a long way to go, but you have the feeling that a weight has been lifted off your back, because you have started to believe your own words. You could not have saved Natasha.

There is still a deep sadness in you, but you still buy your favorite drink on the way home, and try to stay in the living room for a few hours before going to your room when you are inside.

#wanda maximoff #wandaxreader #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda imagine #wanda imagines #sorry for your lost #wandaxyou

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sometimesdesperate · 2 years

Text

wait why am i suddenly thinking a lot about having someone else pick out which stickers Im allowed to put on my laptop/water bottle/phone case/tablet case???????????

like, we go out to run errands and you take me to the craft store and let me pick out a few different sticker sheets (assuming ive been good on the trip) and you lock them away but when i do a particularly good job on a task you give me or just am being particularly good in general or do something youre proud of or if i beg sweetly enough you give me one to put wherever I like and everytime i see it i get to know what a good girl ive been??????????????

cute!!!

#ive played with sticker charts before but this is a bit different and i like it better maybe??????

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gifted-burnout-archive · 4 years

Text

The Other Side of Hollywood

Part Seven

Word Count: 5.2K+

Author’s Note: I KNOW THE GIF IS FROM EPISODE ONE BUT I WANTED TO USE IT EARLIER AND FORGOT SO HAVE IT NOW INSTEAD!!! And I couldn’t find the time to make my own gif of Luke in that suit today so you’ll get it tomorrow with the finale. Also, I am genuinely concerned for Willie in the real show so I did us all a favour and changed a thing or two.

Warning: threatening language, more jolts, sad stuff.

Linkaroonies - One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Masterlist and Y/N Moodboard.

The plan wasn’t exactly simple… But desperate times call for desperate measures, and the band really had no other choice.

After Julie’s rousing speech the night before, planning quickly began: what the boys had been struggling over for a week was quickly solved when they were reminded by Julie of their number one strength. Being ghosts. And after Willie stopped by to check in and promised to get rid of the opening act for Panic! At The Disco overnight, and after he assured them no-one would be hurt, maimed, or made into a ghost themselves in the process, he vanished and promised to report back by morning.

It’s how Alex, Reggie and Luke found themselves standing outside the Orpheum the next day, impatient in their wait for Willie’s return while Julie paced her way around the studio at home.

“Look, don’t worry guys, Willie said he’d get us on that marquee.” Alex assured, his eyes travelling up to the neon blue sign.

“This gonna work, right?” Reggie asked, glancing over at his bandmates, his brothers, with a look of worry. They were riding on Willie’s help, and after he disappeared last night, all that was left for them to do was plan a show that might not happen.

“It has too.” Luke said with a sigh, before all three of them were suddenly hit with another jolt. It sent them doubling over, the pain getting more intense and more frequent the closer they seemed to come to the week’s end – they were on a deadline.

“Hey, you guys ok?” A voice asked behind them, Willie appearing out of the thin air, quickly looking around himself as if someone was missing. He seemed confused, but quickly looked back to the three guys in front of him.

“Yeah.” Alex answered after the trio shared a glance. “Yeah, it’s nothing we haven’t felt before… How’d it go?” He asked, and Willie smiled.

“Well, when that opening band wakes up, they’re gonna find their bus 200 miles outside of Vegas with no chance of getting back in time.” Willie turned to show the jacket he had nabbed from the band that was meant to be supporting P!ATD that night, turning back around and receiving a fist bump from Luke. Another whoosh sounded from behind Willie, Luke’s smile immediately fading away while Alex and Reggie looked surprised.

“You know, that means there’s probably a promoter upstairs right about now freaking out.” Y/N smiled, Willie looking at her with a proud expression. “Hey Reggie.” She said with a wave of her fingers, the boy waving back. “Alex.” She nodded. “… Denim. Like the fleece.” She complimented, earning a snicker from Alex, who quickly stopped with a glance at Luke…

He had never seen him look so angry.

“What is she doing here?” Luke asked Willie, only to be interrupted by a jangle of keys, the item finally through the air and forcing Luke to instinctively catch them. A set of keys, and by the stickers and keyring, it seemed like they were the keys for the tour bus currently stuck in the middle of the desert.

“I told you last night I wanted to help… And Willie can’t drive. Not as well as I can anyway.” She explained herself quickly, and it became clear why Willie was so pleased: Y/N seemed to have switched sides.

“Thanks, Y/N…” Reggie said after a moment, earning a scowl from Luke. “What? She helped!” He defended himself, and Y/N just smiled at the bassist.

“It’s alright Reg.” She promised. “I wouldn’t be forgiving me either…” Y/N’s eyes fell to the ground, her shoes scuffing against the sidewalk. “The things you’ll do for family, right?” She muttered, loud enough for only Luke to really hear. It left him confused for a moment, not quite sure what she meant, and the silence that followed was quickly broken by Willie.

“You, know, I might have to disagree, Y/N. From what I’ve seen, Hollywood promoters are super chill in the face of… Problems.” Willie said with a chuckle, and Y/N smiled softly, bringing up a hand and messing with his hair.

“Good luck tonight, guys… I mean that.” She said with a final glance at the boys before her, all looking a little more hopeful than the night before, before disappearing into the air. Alex took a few steps forward to Willie once the air had settled again, pulling him aside from Reggie and Luke, who quickly caught on and backed away a little.

“I know…” Alex paused, taking a breath, clasping and unclasping his hands. “How much you’re risking…” His eyes finally met Willie’s, who was smiling bright and sweet. “Thank you, Willie.”

“I told you, I’d do anything for you.” Willie responded with a shrug, meaning the words he spoke. Alex hesitated for a moment, almost tempted to end it there, but his heart got the better of him, pulling Willie into a tight hug.

They held onto each other for a moment, Alex knowing that if something went wrong, it might just be the last time he got to see the skater. Willie was quick to hug back, his head going into the crook of Alex’s neck, his eyes closing as he breathed in, trying to retain Alex’s faint smell of dust and old cologne.

“Right…” Alex pulled away first, patting Willie’s shoulder before taking a step back, clearing his throat. “You uh… You’d better get out of here before Caleb catches you with us.”

“Yeah…” Willie nodded, a poof of air landing his skateboard in his hands. “I’ll see you around, hot dog.” He smiled, and Alex smiled back for a moment: it’s the first time Willie had used the nickname since the club, since all this chaos began.

Willie dropped his board to the ground, Alex watching him skate away as his friends came back to his side, Reggie placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Alex, you all right, man?” He asked, genuinely concerned, but Alex shrugged him off and nodded, turning to face his bandmates with a small smile, sad in nature.

“Yeah… Yeah, I’m ok.”

“Well…” Luke started. “Thanks to Willie, Panic! At The Disco needs an opening band.” The attention was brought back to the job at hand, Luke ignoring Reggie’s addition of “And Y/N…”.

“Then I guess someone up there needs to know we’re available.” Alex smiled, his friends smiling right back as they poofed away in unison, only to land two storeys above in an office, where a very angry man was shouting down a phone.

“Stop… Stop saying the bus drove itself!” The man yelled, banging the phone against the desk in the hope to release some of his frustration, while his assistant watched on with a sigh.

“Yeah, Willie was right… This guy’s a total pro.” Reggie whispered, the sarcasm clear, and earning a chuckle from a decreasingly less grumpy Luke.

“All right, boys. Let the magic happen.” Luke announced, before feigning a stern expression. “Alex, no dancing!” He commanded, prompting the blond boy to jump and raise his arms like a ballerina.

Alex danced his way over to the far side of the assistant’s desk with poise and grace that left both Reggie and Luke near tears from laughter as they followed him. With a twirl a flick of his wrist, Alex knocked a pencil holder to the floor, and in a mad rush of Alex writing and Luke directing Reggie in finding their YouTube video from the week before, the boys stepped back as the assistant lifted herself and the fallen object back to the desk.

She was surprised to find a video playing on her screen when she sat back up, and quickly scrolled down to see who exactly this band were, even more surprised by their amazing sound.

“Tasha!” Her boss called to the assistant, who glanced up from her laptop. “Get me CJ. Tell him I need a band to open in 3 hours.” He demanded, and she grinned.

“Sure, but you might want to check this out.” Tasha sat back, continuing to watch the video as her boss hurried over, and Alex couldn’t help but chuckle as the boys watched the scene unfold before them. “Somehow this video started playing on my laptop. It’s got 4 million hits in just a week.”

“Who are they?” He asked, shocked, and Tasha scrolled down the page.

“They’re a hologram band. They call themselves Julie and the Phantoms.” She read out.

“Tell your friends.” Reggie instinctively replied.

“Where are they located?” He asked quickly, and she smiled even wider.

“Our very own City of Angels.”

“Then book ‘em!” Her boss demanded, the boys sharing a cheer.

“Sure, I just don’t know how to…” Tasha trailed off, her eyes falling onto a post-it note, right there on her desk, bearing a number alongside the band’s name.

“Your handwriting is better than mine…” Luke mumbled, earning a pat on the back and nod from Alex before the three vanished, headed home to find Julie and tell her the good news.

“Oh my God!” Was the first thing they head when they landed, Julie having spent most her day pacing the studio: by the looks of it, she had worn down the carpet. “What took you guys so long?! Did Willie do it? Did you talk to them? Did they watch? Did they like us? Are we playing tonight? Can someone answer me? Why’s no-one talking-”

“Whoa, that’s a lot of questions!” Reggie interrupted, allowing Julie a chance to catch her breath. “Luke, you wanna take this one?” He suggested, and Luke turned to face Julie with a smile.

“Take a seat.” He instructed, and Julie’s sat back on the couch she had been too anxious to stay on earlier, while the boys found themselves kneeling on the other side of the table. Atop it, sat Julie’s phone. “It’s fine. Everything’s fine.” Luke said with a smile.

“Yeah. Willie and Y/N took care of the other band, and we saw them watch the video.” Julie smiled a little at the mention of Y/N’s name, glad the ghost-girl she had become so close to over the last week was on their side. “You should be getting a call right… Now!” Alex explained, pointing to the phone and everyone leaned forward. When the screen stayed blank, he cleared his throat and tried again. “Right… Now!” He pointed a second time, this time the action followed by the screen lighting up with an unknown number, the boys high-fiving. “Nailed it…”

“The phone!” The boys quickly realised Julie was yet to answer after a moment had passed, and she quickly grabbed her mobile, the room going silent as she answered.

“Hello?” She said softly, the tension thick in the air as they waited.

“Hi, this is Tasha from the Orpheum…”

Y/N had always been Willie’s best friend. If anything, she was more like his over-protective younger sister. From the moment he arrived at the club, she was watching out for him, keeping him safe, and she intended to keep doing that, whatever the cost. Even if it led to her handing over the boy she liked on a silver platter with his bandmates to Caleb. Even if it meant spending eternity being hated by the people she wanted most to like her, Willie included.

Because, when all is said and done, Y/N would do anything to protect her family.

“Why so blue, sunset?” Caleb asked as he walked into the club to find her keeping up with her daily chores: scrubbing away at the floor until Caleb could see his reflection on the wood. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for the big dance number tonight?”

“I don’t want to perform anymore. Not for you.” Y/N muttered, getting up from the floor to sort herself out with some fresh water, a hand coming to her shoulder. “You know, the only time I’ve ever enjoyed anything to do with music was when I sang with Luke? With the band you want so badly to tear away from Julie. My friend?”

“They aren’t your friends, Y/N… I’m your friend.” Caleb corrected, gesturing for Y/N to set down the bucket and sit, which she did without hesitation. “I’m also the friend who owns your soul, owns your best friend’s soul.” He reminded, and Y/N sighed. “So, you do what I say. I say I want you on my stage tonight, that’s where you’ll be. Got it?” He snapped, and Y/N quickly nodded. “Good. Now, what have they been up to since we last spoke?”

“They’ve figured out their unfinished business… They plan to finish it tonight.” She reported back, and Caleb froze. “You’re too late.”

“The lifer’s address. Give it to me.” Caleb demanded, and Y/N stood up, taking steps towards backstage, only to be hit by a jolt that sent her to her knees.

“Caleb please… Please just let this go, let Willie go. Reconsider.” She begged, coughing through her words to try and lessen the pain in her chest.

“I OWN YOU!” Caleb yelled. “You do what I say! Now,” He snapped his fingers, changing from a suit into a tuxedo and top hat combo. “Tell me where they are.” With a roll of his hand, he offered Y/N a pen and paper.

As she wrote down Julie’s address, Y/N could only hope that the boys were already at the Orpheum, already with Julie and ready to play again. He smiled as she scrawled the address down, snatching the paper back and closing his eyes as he disappeared, leaving Y/N to recover, to change…

To get ready for another show.

“Julie and I were thinking we start with Stand Tall.” Luke suggested, he, Alex and Reggie gathered around the grand piano in the studio, deciding the final order of the songs. He looked up to find both his bandmates rather out of it, and frowned.

“Perfect.” Alex said with a quick nod.

“Sounds good.” Reggie added with a sigh.

“Sounds good?” Luke asked, looking between the two like he was missing something. “Dude wake up! I wanna hear ‘it sounds awesome’!” Luke said with vigour, trying to pump up his friends, before letting his shoulders drop. “I know this isn’t how we wanted things to turn out, but we gotta be all in tonight.” He reminded them. “This is our second chance at playing the Orpheum!”

“I… I get it, I get it, but it’s hard.” Reggie said in a soft voice, melancholic and sincere. “Do we even know what’s on the other side when we cross over? Do we all still get to hang together? You…” Reggie paused, his shoulders slumping. “You guys are the only family I have.”

“Yeah, I mean, I don’t know what’s going to happen either, but… It’s not like we have a choice.” Alex said softly, reaching to place a hand on Reggie’s shoulder when another jolt hit the three, sending them doubling over.

It was worse this time, a lot worse, the pain no longer in their side but the centre of their chest, almost like the jolts had been travelling this whole time towards their hearts. Each was having to find support from the piano to simply stand up at all, and as the pain started to fade from their chests, it relocated to their wrists where the stamps marked their skin.

“I’m pretty sure we do… And it rhymes with the Hollywood Ghost Club.” Reggie said with malice in his voice as he rubbed his wrist, his friends sharing the same thought as the garage doors opened, Julie walking in and pausing at the unhappy looks on her friends’ faces.

“Are you ready?” She asked before fully registering the situation, her smile quickly dropping. “What’s wrong?” She asked, holding on tighter to her dress, stored neatly in a clothing bag. The boys did their best to hide the level of pain they were in, Alex brushing it off with a light chuckle and smile.

“Yeah. We just got rocked pretty hard by one of those jolt things.” He explained with a shrug, leading the walk over to their friend, their bandmate, their leading lady.

“Pretty sure I ghost peed a little.” Reggie added with a forlorn look, Alex glancing over and rolling his eyes at the comment.

“We’re fine though.” Luke smiled. “How are you doing?” He asked, noticing the way his friend wringed her hands round the coat hanger.

“I’m a little nervous actually.” She admitted with a slight laugh. She was, after all, about to play the Orpheum, one of the most well-known stages in LA. She hung the dress on the door quickly, rubbing her hands against the denim of her jeans.

“Julie, you’ll be amazing, as always.” Reggie reminded, receiving nods of agreement from the other guys, easing Julie’s nerves slightly.

“Can… Can I ask a favour?” She said softly, looking at the three idiots who had become part of her family, who had become her home.

“Anything, Julie. You know that.” Luke smiled, and Julie nodded, looking down at her toes and taking a breath.

“When you guys cross over, if…” Julie swallowed, and Alex took a step closer in concern. “If any of you happen to see my mom, can you tell her I love her… and thank her for bringing you to me?” She asked softly, sad smiles being shared between the four: it was a request the boys most definitely hoped to keep for her.

“We will.” Alex said softly, on behalf of the three of them, and Luke cleared his throat.

“Guys, band circle.” He ordered, the four coming together and joining hands where possible. “We don’t know what brought us here, but what we do know is… You’re a star, Julie.” Luke smiled at her, a feeling of pride swelling in him the boys no doubt shared: she was their Julie, and the last months had changed them all. “And just because this is our last night together, it doesn’t mean we won’t be watching you from above… or…” Luke glanced down at the floor with a light chuckle, earning scoffs from his bandmates. “Now let’s go rock this show, and give them a night they’ll be talking about until the sun comes up.” He jumped a little with the words, and more laughs were shared. “Legends on three.” Luke said finally, putting his hand into the circle’s centre.

“One.” Alex responded immediately, his hand landing on top of Luke’s.

“Two.” Reggie followed with a dopey smile and a shrug.

“… Three.” Julie finished, all four raising their hands with a cry of ‘Legends!’, quickly followed by Julie’s dad Ray beeping his horn. “That’ll be my dad. He’s driving me there, so I’ll see you guys soon.” She smiled at the three of them, grabbing her dress and jogging out the door and down the driveway to where her dad waited.

The guys watched the leave before drifting around the room, taking it all in for one last time. While Reggie and Alex got lost in their own dazes, Luke’s eyes travelled to the couch, his mind replaying the sound of Y/N’s voice when she sang with them the week before. The feelings of her head on his thigh, the way her laugh vibrated through her body into his, the way their hands felt interlocked.

“Take it in boys, it’s the last time we’ll see this place.” Luke said under his breath, but Reggie and Alex heard him. They were thinking the same thing.

“And where is it that you think you’re going?” The voice came first, followed by a flash and Caleb, who lounged on the grand piano before the boys in a top hat and tuxedo. He seemed to radiate evil now that they knew what and who Caleb really was, so obviously they felt stupid for not realising before.

“What are you doing here?” Luke asked in a growl, stepping in front of Reggie and Alex, ready to take on the first round with the man who was trying to enslave them for the rest of time.

“Such hostility!” Caleb said with a tut and a gasp, shaking his head. “I’m just here to congratulate you on your big night.” He let out a chuckle. “Not everyone gets to play the Orpheum!”

“No. Ok, we know that it’s your stamp that’s hurting us.” Luke informed as he pulled his sleeve up to show the stamp, the branding, on his wrist. “We already told you, we have a band. We don’t want to join your little club.”

“Yeah, and you can’t make us either…” Alex built up the courage to back up Luke, but after a glance and raised eyebrow from Caleb, he cleared his throat. “Sir.”

“Right! You’re crossing over tonight. So exciting!” Caleb whispered, the dramatic facial expressions just emphasising his sarcasm. “Funny thing about the cross over, no-one really knows what’s waiting on the other side.” He told them with a wave of the hand and an evil smirk, tapping the brim on his hap. “But I know what’s happening on this side.” With a pressing of his hand to his mouth, Caleb blew a kiss and sent the boys spiralling…

Only to land straight up somewhere unfortunately familiar, dressed in new clothes and armed with their instruments. It wasn’t the first thing Luke noticed as he landed though, no… What came first was the noise.

“You told me you would help them, Y/N!” It was Willie’s voice shouting, which surprised Luke most considering that he had never met someone so friendly, so chilled out. As his eyes focused, his view of the pair became clearer, Y/N stood before them in a stunning deep green dress, a single tear trailing down her cheek as Willie yelled. “You lied, and you lied again! How could you do this to them, to me?!”

“I didn’t have another option Will…” Her voice wobbled; her eyes red as she did her best not to sob. Y/N looked broken, reaching out for a pacing Willie but never quite getting to hold him. “I picked the lesser of two-”

“What did you get in return, huh? The penthouse suite?! Control over the work rota?!” Willie asked. “What did he give you this time to do his dirty work, Y/N?” Willie asked, his head turning and stopping dead as he spotted the three boys, stumbling back and hitting the floor. “No, no…”

“Well, don’t they look nice?” Caleb’s voice led five pairs of eyes to his descending the staircase, now dressed in a purple sequin tail coat, filing his nails as the boys looked over themselves, the tuxedos they had been put into.

“Sweet threads..” Reggie managed, earning a smile from Caleb.

“How… How’d you know our size?” Alex asked, glancing over, and seeing Willie for the first time, his heart breaking at the sight of him.

“That’s your question?” Luke snapped, though Alex was now preoccupied, and his eyes fell on Caleb with a glare, before passing over to Y/N. She looked beautiful in spite of her tear stained cheeks and paler than normal complexion. He hadn’t noticed it earlier that day, nor the night before: but she did look sick.

“I know you boys aren’t my biggest fans.” Caleb said with a tut and a sigh, gesturing as he spoke. “And an eternity at my club might seem overwhelming. But… I just put you in sweet threads, so humour me this one last pitch.” He handed off the nail file, taking a few steps back and taking both Willie and Y/N by the arms, bringing them both to his sides. “Now, first off, isn’t it nice that you’re all here together? And believe me, thanks to Y/N, everything you want, including Willie,” He nodded to Alex, “Including Y/N,” His gaze settled back on Luke, giving the two uncomfortable teens at his side a squeeze. “It’s here. And on my stage, you don’t vanish when the music stops. You soak in the applause for as long as you want. The connection that you will feel with that audience,” Caleb dropped his hands from Y/N and Willie, walking forward and straightening Luke’s bow tie. “It will be like no other.” He smiled a little. “I promise.”

“I’m so sorry-”Y/N began to apologise, this time her gaze directed towards Luke, but Caleb shushed her.

“Do you hear that? They’re waiting for you.” Caleb stated as cheers began from out in the audience, viewers ready for a show. The boys were suddenly hit by another jolt, curling up at the pain, only to hear a female whimper, and a thud, eyes following Y/N as she slumped down to the ground. “That one looked like it hurt.” Caleb said with a shrug, walking back towards the stage. “Now, let me remind you, you don’t know if playing the Orpheum is your unfinished business. Do you really have time to make that mistake? I suggest you accept my offer because the clock is ticking.” Caleb lifted a glass of champagne and took a sip as another jolt ran through the boys, this time they witnessed it run through Y/N as well. “You know where to find me.”

As Caleb’s music started up in the background, Willie helped pull Y/N to her feet despite his anger, the girl gripping onto his arm and pulling up the sleeve.

“Y/N, what are you-” Willie asked, trying to pull away when he saw his stamp begin to glow, and like magic lift off of his arm. The boys watched on in amazement, Willie’s stamp shattering in the air into nothing, leaving the skin on Willie’s wrist clear.

“You were working for him all along…” Luke muttered, and Y/N looked up, holding tight to Willie.

“He gave me an offer… Either you three died and Willie was destroyed along with you… Or you all lived, with the bonus of Willie… Winning back his soul.” Y/N explained, suddenly feeling dizzy.

“The things we do for family…” Luke muttered, finally understanding what she had said before.

“I’m so sorry I did this…” Y/N groaned and held a hand to her head, sitting herself down on the floor as the words of Caleb’s song floated around her head, as she watched Alex begin to twirl a drumstick between his fingers and Reggie bounce to the track’s beat. “Willie you need to leave… Go somewhere safe.”

“The studio…” Alex suggested absentmindedly, before he disappeared in to a puff of smoke, only to reappear on the stage by the drum kit.

“You’ll be safe there…” Y/N promised, and with a final glance back at the stage, Willie left the Hollywood Ghost Club a free man for the first time ever.

“Y/N, are you alright?” Luke asked, Reggie disappearing from his side as he knelt down to see to the girl clutching her head. Reggie’s infamous bass lines began to resonate around the room, and Luke felt his fingers itching to play, felt his body dying to be on the stage.

His heart wanted to stay, with Y/N…

“Now Luke.” Caleb called from the stage, Luke’s hands working with a mind of their own as they began to play, his legs pulling him from Y/N’s body as the temptation took over.

The moment Luke’s feet crossed over the threshold of side lines to stage, a cosmic shift occurred with the completion of Y/N’s deal. To the sound of guitar riffs and drum beats, Y/N’s mind was filled with memories of a life she never knew, of a life Caleb stole from her…

Of a life Caleb took away.

The boys hadn’t arrived… They didn’t get to cross over. The jolts got them first.

The fears circled through Julie’s brain as she ran from Flynn and Rob, the tech manager, fleeing out the Orpheum’s side door onto the alleyway. As she broke through the doorway, her feet came to a slow stop, recovering from the run. Julie looked to her left, her right, and finally to the sky as the cold night air set in, traffic passing by on the main road, the blue glow of the Orpheum’s catching on driving cars. And, like that, Julie just felt angry. Like the world had turned its back on her and stolen the people she loved over and over again.

“I don’t know if you can hear me, Mom, but…” Julie started, cut off for a moment by a soft sob. “I can’t handle it.” She admitted to air. “You know, Flynn says you’re supposed to be behind everything, but I don’t know… If I was supposed to help the guys, I didn’t.” Another sob racked her body, and Julie tilted her head back. “They’re gone and I’m so sorry… They were my friends, my band… My family.” She sniffed at the thought, wiping her tears away with her hands. “Why can’t you just come pick me up and… and hold me in your arms and just tell me that everything’s gonna be ok and that I’m gonna get through it?” Her voice cracked at the thought, and Julie took a shaky breath. “And tell me that even though they’re not here with me, they’re still up there with you. I just… I just wish you were here.” Julia sighed, her head dropping down as she finished, a passer-by stopping by her side.

She looked the poor girl over, dressed like a popstar in a back alley, crying to someone who was no longer there, and felt the deepest movement of sympathy within her. Without thinking much of it, she held out one of her newly bought dahlias to the young girl, who accepted it with surprise, and made her way home.

Julie looked at the flower, the sign she had been waiting for, and turned towards the side entrance of the Orpheum, her glance triggering a gust of wind to throw the doors open and send a picture from a pinboard by the entrance off of its pin, floating down to the ground. Picking the photo up from the floor, Julie felt even warmer inside, immediately noticing the face in the centre of the picture. Even twenty five years younger, her mother had the same smile and hair and eyes, she threw her head back to laugh in the same way.

That’s what the photo was: her mom in that same jacket Julie wore that night, holding tightly to her friends as they posed for the photo. Her mom wasn’t centre though, instead it was a girl in a birthday hat, her smile bright as he held a hand to her chest and another over the third friend’s shoulder.

“Rosalee…”

Julie, with her dahlia in one hand and the photo in the other, marched back down the stairs and back to stage side where Flynn and Rob were trying to co-ordinate and get Brendon Urie on stage. Instead, Julie stopped for a moment by Flynn’s side, a smile on her face as she brandished the flower like a sword and pressed the photo to Flynn’s chest.

“Signs.” She said simply, walking on stage without hesitation, which prompted Flynn to look down at what she had been handed by her best friend.

A photo of Julie’s mom, about twenty something years younger, beside the girl Flynn had seen flickering at the party as she sang with the band.

A photo of Rose and Y/N… From 1995.

Part Eight (The End) is here...

Tags: @im-a-writer-right @elioelioeli0 @jenjen889 @walkingonshunshine @parkeret @lolychu @leahstypewriter @j-mar-memester @sunsetcurve-h @musicconversedance @gracefulpenguin @shae-is-not-ok @talksoprettyjjx @smol-book-nerd @lord-of-the-fried @siennanoelle01 @deadpoolgirl23 @theatricalfangirl @deepsleepnat @hhyunj1n @lovesanimals @oswin05 @ifilwtmfc @crappy-unicorn @eries45 @noncannonships @tenaciousperfectionunknown @theorangestofjuices @oopsiedoopsie23 @elephants-bubbles-brachosauruses @aesthetic-lyss @voguesir @michellebarista @caitsymichelle13 @bellero

#luke patterson #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson x y/n #jatp luke x reader #jatp luke #jatp #julie and the phantoms #fanfiction #fanfic #jatp au #reader insert #the other side of hollywood #luke patterson fluff #fluff #fantom

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kevin-day-is-bi · 3 years

Text

Here! An unnamed fluffy jerejean fic I wrote in a haze at 1 am this morning!

When Jeremy Knox smiled, it was almost bright enough to banish the shadows that still lurked. Jean saw, sometimes, worry lines around Jeremy's mouth and eyes. When he thought no one was looking, Jeremy's brows furrowed and his mouth tightened some days. The first time Jean noticed it was two months and some change after he had officially joined the team. The first month didn't really count, though, due to the fact that Jean had spent almost all of it on the court.

There were many strange things about the Trojans, he had noticed. They were always smiling. Someone always had freshly died or cut hair, and Jeremy was usually surprised to see it unless it was his own hair. Uniforms were altered, makeup was done, friendships were formed, all outside of the court. Jean wanted to spend all his time on the court, but fast realized this was impossible.

When he went back to the shared dorm he had with Jeremy, Jeremy was always there. No matter whether it was midnight or noon. Jeremy was there, sleeping or eating or on the phone with Laila. It helped Jean, more than he was willing to admit. Every time he was there he brought the decided feel of outside with him. He always brought outside to Jean, so Jean decided to stop being a burden and go outside himself.

It was team brunch the first time. There were pancakes and burgers and the entire experience was the exact opposite if everything Jean had known. From them leaving their dorm to their arrival, full of 'ohhh shit I forgot my keys!' and laughter and Jeremy stopping by a street sign that read 'Moreau Ave.' to take a picture with Jean. In the Nest, when (if) they left, it was orderly and calm and silent. There was not loud pop music and sunglasses and Jeremy owning an impressively vintage convertible (Jean later found out it was actually Alvarez's, borrowed to make a good impression.)

Jean was silent for the entirety of the meal. Jeremy didn't know how to be silent and talked enough for the both of them. Alvarez got them milkshakes and everyone shared some of theirs, except for Jean, who only allowed Jeremy a sip. Jean hadn't had a milkshake before. He liked them.

The drive back was louder, somehow. Jean wondered if perhaps it was the sugar that lead Jeremy to practically yell song lyrics.

Brunch happened two more times, as well as several dinners and countless lunches with just Jeremy. Jean rarely spoke. In the Nest, his only emotions were fear and fury, and those were felt as vibrantly as a burn. Once the leading factor in both those was taken away, Jean had some trouble determining other feelings. Even the brightest days were slightly gray. Though he felt his pit of anger return some days to give him enough energy to snap at someone holding their racquet wrong, he was mostly blank. This was when he noticed that Jeremy didn't always smile.

He came across Jeremy talking to Laila one time. One walked quietly in the Nest, so Jean remained unheard as he almost rounded the corner where they were. He planned to keep walking, but he heard his own name whispered. So he slowed.

Laila asked something he didn't catch and Jeremy's warm voice responded.

"Everyone heals at their own time. You can't rush him."

"What if he isn't healing? What if the Nest damaged something that can't be healed?"

Jean froze. They were talking about him. None of Jeremy's normal light was present when he responded.

"I've seen the people that come out of the Nest. They were broken, but not impossible to heal. No one is."

Laila hissed something, but Jeremy's voice rose.

"We thought Kevin couldn't be healed."

Silence echoed. Jean wondered if he should walk away. Then,

"I'm not going to stop trying. I wouldn't do that."

Laila sounded hurt for reasons Jean couldn't place.

"I know. You're a good person. He just worries me."

A quiet moment, then a door opened and students started streaming past Jean.

"Shit, class. Will you be alright?" Laila spoke slightly louder to be heard over the sounds of bodies.

"Yeah. I should go back to the dorm. Jean should be back in a bit."

Jean stepped sideways into the crowd of bodies and tried to seem unassuming. Jeremy was leaning against the wall. Laila's ponytail was disappearing down the hall. Jean almost stopped short when he saw Jeremy's face.

No trace of the bright grin, no sign of the cheerful eyes. Instead there was a slightly lopsided frown, and a furrowed brow, and a far off stare. Something about it looked odd, like he was missing a body part.

Jean kept walking. He walked all the way to the dorm, where he sat down on his bed and tried to ignore the quiet. Jean hated the quiet. There was a list of things he couldn't stand anymore, and Jeremy's presence usually prevented all of them. Jeremy had bought him a little nightlight that shined the pattern of stars on his ceiling at night, since Jean couldn't stand the dark. Jeremy was almost always playing music or talking, even at night, which prevented silence. Jeremy himself prevented Jean from being alone, which sent him into panic attacks and fearful spirals of anger and hate. Jeremy never wore black and didn't have any of the normal black notebooks for classes. Jeremy only wore bright red instead of a deeper, blood red. Jeremy had bright stickers over anything that had a 3 on it.

Jeremy walked in, smile in place. It was impossible to tell how fake it was. Jean felt slightly bad for not responding to their efforts to help him. So he cast his gaze around the room as Jeremy chatted absentmindedly. His gaze snagged on a picture. He gathered every bit of wanting to socialize that he had within him and interrupted Jeremy.

"I would like to go to the beach."

Jeremy froze and turned. "What?"

"I've never been to the beach. I want to go."

Jeremy started vibrating and scrambled for his phone. "We're going to the beach."

This was the start. Jean started classifying feelings as things that caused them. Joy was team brunch. Excitement was driving very fast in the convertible. Amusement was when Laila made Alvarez laugh when she was drinking a milkshake and laugh so hard the milkshake came out of her nose. Calm was rainy days with Jeremy, his nightlight on and soft music drifting from Jeremy's laptop. Jeremy's smile caused something Jean couldn't identify, so he didn't bother to. Slowly, the fog lifted.

He smiled at things. He talked to the team. He learned that sass was a thing that existed and he could use, instead of just being meek or acerbic. He began to develop a healthy appreciation for all things yellow. It reminded him illogically of Jeremy. Jean came across no more talks about his healing, he never again saw the edges of Jeremy's worry. If he did, it was at something else, and Jeremy was trusting him enough to show the worry. It was an odd feeling.

There were things Jeremy did that both confused Jean and made him happy. Like bringing him milkshakes or doodling flowers on Jean's homework or bringing him seashells when they were walking on the beach. Jean wondered if something like this had been waiting for Kevin. Wondered if that was why he had left; something like this had been taunting him. Then Jean wondered why he hadn't left earlier, 'he' being both himself and Kevin. California drove the darkness away. Jeremy and the Trojans waited ahead. Jean wondered some days why he was here. Why he didn't go back, now Riko was gone. But the Trojans had milkshakes and tacos and beaches and Jeremy had a smile brighter than the sun. That was enough.

This has only been reread once. Hope you enjoyed it!

#aftg #all for the game #jean moreau #jeremy knox #jerejean

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schrijverr · 4 years

Text

Solidarity

This is about enby he/they Jon, who wants to wear a skirt to work, because they’re comfy. He confides in Tim, who agrees to help them. He does so by dyeing his hair purple.

It is completely based on the art of @fox-guardian, their Tim and all other TMA designs live in my mind rent free, so go check them out! The designs I used will also be linked in text for a better mental image

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: none really, but tell me if I missed something or if you want me to tag anything!

A/N: this is my first time writing someone with multiple pronouns, if I can improve feel free to tell me, no obligations of course :D

~~~~~~~~

Jon was nervous, he was almost always nervous, but they had an impeccable mask. However, today he was even more nervous and it was showing through the cracks. They had finally put a non-binary flag sticker on his laptop.

They weren’t about to tell everyone at the office about it, the he/him pronouns for work suited them just fine for now and he didn’t want to go through the effort of explaining he/they pronouns to everyone, the flag was just for them.

Georgie had given him the sticker when they had come out to her. They lost contact soon after, but Jon had always appreciated the gesture. Until now he had been too afraid to stick it on something, because what if that object didn’t last and they wasted the sticker on that?

But now he had a brand new laptop and in a wave of courage they had put the sticker on it.

A decision he was now regretting, since they were walking into work and anyone could see it. Of course, the people who knew what the flag meant, would most likely be chill with it, but anyone would recognize it as a pride flag, even if they might not know which one.

He had tried to convince themself it didn’t matter, he was proud of who they were, had been for a long while.

But it was still scary.

They sighed and pushed open the door, quickly making his way to their desk where he tried to make the flag less noticeable by reorganizing their desk.

Luck was not on his side, however, because Tim made his way over to them. He greeted him and Tim smiled back: “Hi there, Jon. What are you reorganizing for? Trying to get that archivist job, ey?”

Jon couldn't help it, they froze. His hands stilled as they tried to come up with an excuse, but nothing came out. He just stared at Tim and waved their hands around helplessly. His actions made Tim frown and he asked: “Hey, is everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, everything's fine, Tim.” Jon answered, before, with a stroke of genius (not), they pushed a stack of paper in front of the flag.

The paper stack wasn’t near high enough to cover it and all it did was call attention to what Jon had been trying to hide. He cringed and looked at Tim to try and gauge his reaction to the sticker.

Tim glanced over and spotted the sticker, a look of understanding coming over his face. He could see the light fear in Jons eyes, so he went for a disarming smile as he said: “That’s cool. I, myself, am the B of the beautiful alphabet soup. Want me to change pronouns for you?”

Jon practically sagged with relief, their heart beginning to slow down again and he said: “No, I just use he/him in a professional setting, but, uhm, you know, thank you.”

“No problem.” Tim smiled, “Always good to know you’re not alone, right? Solidarity and all that.”

“Yeah.” Jon shyly returned the smile.

Later that day Tim ‘accidentally’ left his mug in front of the flag when he was talking to Jon and the next day a three striped flag could be found on Tims laptop. It wasn’t much, but it was support and that was comforting.

In the privacy of their own home Jon put on a skirt, he liked dressing like, what Georgie called, an elderly librarian, but it was comfortable and they wished he was comfortable enough to wear it to work.

They shook the thought off, no use in dwelling on the possibilities, after all, but it remained there in the back of his mind.

The next time they thought about it seriously, was when he actually got promoted. It came to them again when he realized that the Archives were mostly hidden away in the basement and didn’t get a lot of traffic. Wearing a skirt there was much less high risk, besides they would be working with Tim and Sasha, they both knew, and he had thought they’d seen a trans flag as the background for that annoying other guy, Martin, he thought his name was.

Still, they would have to walk through the building for a bit first, past the front desk in the main entrance hall and while Rosie was a sweet lady, she a nosy one too.

Jon shoved the thought away, but this time it fought harder when he tried to let go of it. They thought of it when his pants felt tight around their legs, when his tie wrapped around their throat and whenever Sasha walked past in a dress.

A few weeks into the organization of the Archives, Jon had made up his mind. They were gonna wear a skirt, but first he needed to be sure they would have at least one ally on his side.

They casually held back Tim at the end of the day. He looked surprised and asked: “Hey, what’s up boss?”

“Uhm, can I- can I ask you something?” Jon began.

He didn’t know if it was the body language or the hesitation that put Tim on high alert, but he straightened up a bit and answered: “Of course, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong, per say.” they said, “I just have this idea, but before I do it, I want to ensure that I have someone taller to hide behind in case it goes wrong.”

“That is not helping, Jon. Is it those statements? Sasha says they’re all weird, they’re not getting to you too, are they?” Tim replied.

“Oh no, not at all. You know I don’t belief that nonsense.” Jon quickly assured him, then he hunched a bit over and mumbled: “I was just just thinking of wearing a skirt to work, since they’re comfortable, but, you know?”

They looked up and hoped Tim would understand. He saw how Tims concerned expression morphed into understanding, then his eyes glittered, before he got excited. He grinned: “I got the perfect idea, I will 100% cover you, boss. Just wait and I’ll text you when you can do it, alright? I got a plan.”

“Wha-? What’s the plan? Tim? Tim!” Tim was already gone.

Jon spend the next few days nervously. They had asked Tim a few times, but he had been waved away with a ‘don’t worry’ or a ‘you’ll see.’

Then on Tuesday morning, they got a text from Tim, simply reading: It’s time, meet me near the gates at 8:45.

Not wanting to stand outside in the outfit on his own for a while, Jon made sure to be there precisely on time and not a second later.

He had chosen a comfort outfit, since they suspected he was going to need it today. It was a long dark grey skirt, which they had paired with green socks, dress shoes with a small heel, an old green cardigan and his Mechanisms shirt.

They hadn’t even stood there for five seconds when a familiar voice called out: “Here, Jon!”

Looking over he saw Tim, but now with lilac hair that matched a sweater and a dress shirt he wore as much as possible. Right now it was a sweater day, he grinned when he saw Jons shocked face and ran up to them.

“A distraction, at your service, boss.” Tim did a lazy salute, before he started to lead Jon inside.

Jon was speechless for a moment, then they said: “You didn’t have to do all that for me, isn’t that a dress code violation?”

“Old Elias won’t care, besides if they yell at me for it, it’s only less attention on you.” Tim waved his worries away, “And I did have to do it. To be honest, I’ve always wanted to dye my hair, but never found a reason to try a violate dress code, but this was just a perfect excuse.”

“Thank you, Tim, really. It means a lot.” Jon told him sincerely.

“No worries, solidarity, am I right.” Tim told them.

They walked in to the Institute together and the first thing Jon heard was Rosie calling out: “Tim, your hair! I love it, dear.”

Internally Jon smiled: Solidarity.

#RR writing #jonathan sims #jon sims #tim stoker #tim stoker and Jon Sims #Tma #the magnus archives #the magnus pod #the magnus archive season 1

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dulce-pjm · 3 years

Text

under the table

word count: 3.8k

genre: fluff

summary: you’re doing great! 100% amazing. a-okay! alright, no you’re not. but what does everyone say is the perfect cure for a heart that never had the chance to be broken? game night, of course! but knowing you, there will always be complications.

You’re at peace.

When things are like this, the universe is in harmony. You’re tucked away from the rest of the world, cuddled up under a blanket next to the thing most important to you, a relaxed smile across your face. You think you could spend the rest of your life here, content and happy. Safe.

But you’ve never been particularly lucky.

“The fuck is a board game club?”

“It’s fun, I promise!” Mina looks you up and down as she stands in the doorway of your bedroom. You know how you look, sprawled on your soft comforter in sweats and a grease-stained t-shirt. Your laptop sits beside you, a trashy drama playing in the background, while your hands are occupied with your phone and a large bowl of popcorn.

“But I’m having fun now.” You gesture to your well-planned setup, grimacing when Mina turns the lights on. “Dude. Warning, please.” She sighs, stepping into the room with a stern look on her face. You can already feel your stubborn resolve slipping.

Mina shuts your laptop and moves it aside, plopping onto the bed next to you. She takes your non-butter-coated hand in hers.

“Y/N, I love you. But it’s Friday night. We haven’t gone out in a month. A month!” You glare, offended she’d bring up the subject.

“Because you know what happened last time!” Mina opens her mouth to argue, but shuts it quickly. This discussion always goes the same direction anyway.

“This won’t be like last time,” she reassures, taking the popcorn bowl from you, much to your dismay. “I promise. You like games! It’ll be fun and tonight we’re betting, so if you win you might even have some cash to take home.”

“But I’m so happy here.” You cuddle your pillow childishly, puffing out your bottom lip. Mina is not amused. She sighs, massaging her temples.

“I didn’t want to do this,” she begins. “But you owe me, remember?” You cock your head, no memory coming to mind. She sighs in exasperation. “You dragged me to that stupid dance class last semester! By the end I thought I was gonna puke!” You scoff.

“Oh, puh-lease, you were practically drooling over the instructor. He was so hot I forgot about the pain. Too bad he has a girlfriend now. I stalked him on Instagram.” Mina laughs, a light tinkling sound compared to your usual guffawing, abrasive and obnoxious.

“So… you’ll come?” You take a moment to think, despite already knowing your answer. You were too easy to guilt-trip, you knew. Too trusting, too. But Mina was right, you did owe her. You sigh.

“Fine. I’ll come.” Mina’s entire face lights up as she cheers and hurries to her feet. Your joints creak as you heave your limbs off of the bed while Mina begins babbling instructions your way.

You were rather talented at board games. And silly banter. You might even have a chance at walking away with the money. This will be fun, you assure yourself.

“...So, yeah. Just bring ten bucks. And maybe change first.” Her eyes take one last glance at your outfit in light disgust. “Be ready in half an hour?”

“Mhmm,” you groan, stumbling to your closet. You sniff one of your old sweaters and when no ungodly stench meets you, you shrug it on in place of your tee. Mina thanks you before trotting out of the room, taking away your snack with her.

This will be fun, this will be fun.

Or, at least it better be. You make a mental note that, if this goes south, you aren’t leaving this apartment for the next six months.

After sprucing up your appearance and coating yourself with cheap perfume, you approach the supposed ‘board game club meeting’ (how the hell did that get approved, anyway?) with a newfound sense of confidence. Your smile is beaming, your shoulders are back and unbothered, your skin glowing. Wait, doesn’t that phrase mean you’re pregnant? You can’t remember. Not that pregnancy is even a remote possibility for you anyway. What with you never leaving the apartment and all.

You trail after Mina as she weaves through the library halls, before slowing in front of a corner study room. You’re astounded she made it here so easily, you had no idea this was even here. To your knowledge, this wing of the library was reserved for storage and staff.

Just as you’re about to follow her through the door, she spins to face you.

“You know, I’ve been thinking and you know if you really don’t want to go-”

“Oh my god, we’re here already! Let’s just go in!” You smile at her teasingly while she blushes. Despite how it might look to outsiders, you and Mina care about each other deeply. You appreciate how considerate she is of you.

“Alrighty then!” She turns back around and throws open the door, drawing the greetings of everyone else in the room. Your eyes land on Mark, Mina’s boyfriend, who’s already shot to his feet and pulled Mina in for a kiss.

You barely have time to scan the rest of the crowd before Mark’s wrapped you up in a hug, ruffling your hair. He’d always been friendly, definitely a little much for you. But his affectionate ways are perfect for Mina.

“Hey! Didn’t expect to see you here.” He finally parts from you, allowing you room to breathe. You shrug sheepishly.

“Well, here I am.” Your hands fidget nervously at the belt loops of your jeans. “So expect to lose.” Mark laughs, wrapping an arm around Mina. You suppress the part of you that’s immensely jealous of their easy-going relationship. You’ve never been able to achieve quite the same thing. Your relationships rarely lasted longer than a few months, at best.

“I believe it. You always outplay me in Monopoly.” He throws a thumb over his shoulder. “But Yoongi might give you a run for your money.”

Your blood runs cold. Chills travel across your skin. A fire fueled by anger and embarrassment that had almost sputtered out over the past month is suddenly reignited, a blazing furnace beneath your face and chest.

“What?” Mina’s smile becomes strained while you stand there, face void of emotion despite the thunderstorm raging inside. Her voice lowers to a harsh whisper. “I thought you said he wasn’t coming!” Mark, oblivious to the brewing conflict, smiles happily.

“Yeah, but his work thing got canceled, so I told him there was still plenty of room.” Pride beams off of his face. At any other time, Mina would congratulate him for his efforts to be inclusive and encouraging to their mutual friend. But right now, she was starting to be as panicked as you were pissed.

Your mind is flooded with memories of fun conversation, casual flirting, and, ultimately, anxious nights spent staring at your phone screen, waiting for a very specific notification to appear. But it never did. You’re starting to see red.

“God, Mark, I told you about this!” Mina turns to you, eyes frantic. “You know, if you just want to go back home, that’s okay. I’ll go with you, we can watch dramas and eat pizza and-”

“It’s fine,” you spit through clenched teeth. You force your fists to relax, allow a gentle smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes to settle across your lips.

“A- Are you sure?” Mina touches your arm with concern, forcing you to tear your gaze away from a certain someone across the room. You shrug nonchalantly, forcing your smile to go wider.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Y/N, you seriously don’t-”

“It’s fine, Mina.” She immediately clamps her mouth shut, knowing your will is set in stone by the harsh tone of your voice. She nods vigorously and steps back into the arms of a very confused Mark.

“Okay, okay.” She puts up her hands defensively before smiling and facing the rest of the group. “Who’s ready to get started?” She’s met with cheers and smiles as Mark settles into a seat beside her and starts dealing cards, leaving one empty chair, across from Yoongi.

You slide into it, meeting his intense gaze as he looks up from his phone. Not that it surprises you, but he appears exactly the same. He’s fucking gorgeous. His features are soft, yet when he meets your eyes with that piercing gaze and unreadable expression, he becomes sharp and intimidating. His greyish-brown locks just barely sit above his dark, umber eyes, effortlessly tousled. Even his taste is good, his outfit composed of a leather jacket and vintage band t-shirt, topped with a single hoop earring.

God, he is so perfect. Was so perfect, until he’d ignited your unending anger.

“Hey,” you mutter, words coming off much more bitter than intended. Whatever. It’s how you feel, anyways.

“Hey,” he replies. “Been a while.” His eyes never leave yours.

“Sure has.” Your nostrils flare against your will. “You doing alright? Gone on any more blind dates?” Yoongi’s lips twist into a scowl.

“Can’t say I have. You were the one and only.” The staredown between you two could start wars. The negative energy you’re generating sends a chill down an unsuspecting Mark’s spine.

Your brooding is interrupted when a shiny, white sticker is passed in front of you.

“It’s a name tag!” Mina explains, looking between you two anxiously. “You can decorate it. It’s fun.” You internally roll your eyes at Mina’s not-so-sly attempt to break up your silent argument.

You grab a stray pen to scribble your name, but just as the ink begins to meet the sticker, fingers tighten around your wrist. With his free hand, Yoongi takes the sticker from you, bringing it to his side of the table.

“Let me do it. Your handwriting is shit.” You grimace. He isn’t wrong. You work to get your mind moving, you’re already behind in the insult-slinging. After a brief moment, Yoongi releases your wrist and snatches the pen from your fingertips, dipping his head to start writing.

“So are your dialing abilities.” Yoongi pauses, his eyes lifting, a poorly built facade of confusion masking what you’re sure is smug pride. The little shit.

“What?” he asks curiously, pen lowering.

“You heard me.” You cross your arms and lean back in your seat, as if daring him to challenge you. This asshole had the nerve to pretend he enjoyed your company despite the less-than-ideal circumstances, treat you to a nice date, not call you ever again, NOT EVER CALL YOU AGAIN, and then pretend he didn’t know what you were talking about? God, you’d really dodged a bullet there. Or, you would have. If Yoongi had picked up the damn phone and taken a shot in the first place.

After a few seconds, a smirk plays on his lips and he shakes his head, returning to the sticker.

“I see you and Yoongi are acquainted!” Mark comments, throwing an arm over your shoulder while blissfully unaware of the situation. Oh, to be pretty and ignorant. “He’s a monster at Risk, let me tell you. He could probably take over the world if he really wanted to. Most of the time, he’s the lucky guy walking away with the payout.” Yoongi shrugs, eyes still focused on the project before him.

“Or you guys just suck.” Mark laughs, the boisterous sound rattling from his chest.

“Either way, he’s the guy to beat.” You nod in understanding as a plan hatches in your mind. You rub your hands together, not unlike a cartoon villain. Your fixed smile becomes slightly crazed and Cheshire cat-like.

Interesting. Very interesting. So, if you were to, perhaps, theoretically, make some private bets and win this game night, Yoongi would be out a shit ton of money? Now that sounded like fun, Mina be damned. Screw closure and moving on, revenge is much more gratifying.

When Yoongi finishes your nametag, you slap it on your sweater without so much as a glance, oblivious to the way his face falls.

If it took every fiber of your being, you were going to beat Yoongi’s ass, steal his money, and never ever see him again.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Fuck!

How was it possible for somebody to be good at Candyland?! The game’s pure goddamn luck. But here Yoongi was, having claimed victory for three out of the six games played so far (you claiming the other three) and being well on his way to winning the seventh and final game: Uno.

You, Yoongi, and Mina are down to three cards each, while Mark and the other participants are too caught up in rambunctious conversation to care that they’re losing terribly.

Mistakes have been made. You had egged Yoongi on into raising the bets between you two from ten to fifty dollars. And now you were fearing you’d lose. But your will was still strong, refusing to give up so easily. And where there was a will, there were Draw Four cards.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Y/N?” Yoongi groans, reaching to draw from the pile. But at the last second, his fingers flicker back to his hand, slapping his own Draw Four card onto the table. You sigh, banging your head against the table without an ounce of embarrassment or true anger. That time had long passed. Now you were just exasperated.

Mina cries out in protest, but having nothing to counter with, she begrudgingly draws eight, eliminating her from the close race between you and Yoongi, having two cards each. Yoongi smiles apologetically, making you laugh quietly to yourself.

When he wasn’t being an ass, Yoongi still made pleasant company. He was nice and sarcastic and introspective, never failing to add something new to the conversation. Despite your initial resolve, you’d found yourself opening up to him once again, obnoxiously cracking your own jokes and telling wild stories from your past experiences. Whenever Yoongi smiled or laughed at you, your heart soared. If only he had called you back, things could be different.

But they weren’t. This is a war now. A war you intend to win.

“What are you doing?” The question startles you from the goofy selfie you’re taking as you wait for the play to make its way around the table. You set down your phone, ignoring the way that, in the picture, your eyes are straight ahead, meeting Yoongi’s, rather than directed at the camera.

“Texting my nephew.” Yoongi cocks his head, brows furrowing. “He’s five and has a tablet for some godforsaken reason. We just send each other pictures of ourselves making stupid faces back and forth. It’s silly.” You don’t know why you’re suddenly sheepish, heat rising to your face. It’s probably the bad air conditioning in this place. Yoongi’s confused expression melts into a soft smile, making the furnace beneath your cheeks blaze hotter.

“Cute,” he murmurs.

“What?” He shrugs, taking a sip at his soda. Your eyes narrow. What kind of game is he playing? Does he think flirting with you will distract you from the mission at hand? Because if so, he’s an absolute idiot.

“You’re an idiot!” you’re yelling just a few minutes later. Yoongi’s practically cackling from across the table, clutching his middle with one hand, the other holding just one card. You still had two, but no matter. It’s pretty unlikely he’ll be able to play his hand anyway. “The cookie is the backbone of the entire Oreo! Without it, the whole experience is ruined! Don’t disregard it so easily.” Yoongi only snickers more, his gums peeking out from behind his massive smile. He’s enjoying the way you get riled up so easily, how quickly he can get under your skin with the most meaningless of words.

“It doesn’t even taste good, Y/N. The least they could do is make it taste like sugar, since that’s practically all an Oreo is.” You roll your eyes.

“That ruins the whole balance. The only thing you could possibly add to an Oreo to make it better is peanut butter.”

“Peanut butter?” Yoongi leans forward in interest and slight disgust. You nod assuredly, finding yourself leaning forward as well.

“Trust me, it’ll change your life.” Yoongi looks at you earnestly.

“I’m pretty sure it’s you that’s the life-changer.” Your eyebrows pop upward, jaw momentarily dipping open before you snap it shut. No. No. You’re not falling for this again. You scoff and fall back into the incredibly uncomfortable chair, which only makes Yoongi smile proudly.

“Y/N, it’s your turn.” Mark nudges you and you barely acknowledge him, slapping your blue four onto the pile easily.

Yoongi looks at you oddly, lolling his head to the side.

“What?” you snap, giving him your best glare.

“You’re done with your turn?” he asks, expression turning slightly concerned. God, he was such a fucking tease.

“Yes I’m done, you dipshit. Play your turn.” You glance at your phone screen, seeing several notifications from your nephew and a scolding text from your sister for encouraging his behavior.

Yoongi sighs, drawing his card when he can’t play. When you glance up, there’s a smirk on his face once again.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Yoongi’s smirk deepens.

“You didn’t say ‘Uno.’” You stare at Yoongi. He starts to snicker again.

“Fuck!” you shout, ignoring Mina’s many comments about ‘language!’ and ‘non-competitive dialogue!’ Yoongi laughs in your face, not even bothering to cover his mouth and try to spare you. You’re about to go ballistic, your fists clenched as Yoongi does the favor of drawing four for you, sliding them in front of you. God, you hate him.

In the end, neither of you wins. Some freshman with glasses you didn’t know took the victory, teasing his apparent girlfriend for losing. Who even let freshmen in here, anyway? The participants decide that the winnings will be divided between you and Yoongi, since you both won three games, and the mini-bet between the two of you becomes null, with neither of you able to fully stake your claim.

But you’re the one who’s really been defeated. You couldn’t even succeed in getting a second date with this guy, what made you think you could beat him in board games?

You give Yoongi a small, meek nod before standing to go. Mina left with Mark already after double and triple-checking that you were okay to walk home alone. You make for the door, open the handle as unexpected tears threaten to prick at your eyes.

You’re so pathetic. You’d let a fucking blind date get you so upset you’d barely left your apartment in the past month except to go to class. Could you really be faulted? You hadn’t had so much fun with someone in your entire life. You could feel the connection, the spark, between the two of you. You were certain this was the one that would last. So you took the leap, gave him your number, proposed a second date. But he never called you. Not once.

You’re unlikable. Unlovable. You don’t deserve to win game night, let alone to win at life or relationships or-

“Y/N, wait up.” Yoongi’s found his way next to you as you trudge out of the library, staring straight ahead.

Great.

“What is it, Yoongi?” You shoot him a dark look, only to find his ears tinged pink and his hand awkwardly scratching his scalp.

“Well, uh, I was thinking.” The sentence ends, thought hanging unfinished in the air.

“You were… thinking?” Yoongi jolts, like he’d forgotten you were here. His eyes never meet yours, contrary to his crude confidence from before.

“Yeah! And, um-” He sighs, taking a deep inhale through his nose. “I think we should use the money we won and go on a second date.”

What.

“What?” You’re openly gaping at him now. “Why?!”

“Because I really enjoyed our first date and I’d like another one.” You’re running out of air, sputtering on your breath.

“But- But you didn’t even call me! I asked you out and now you suddenly change your mind?” After an excruciating moment, Yoongi’s eyes meet yours, panicked rather than unreadable. The image is unsettling and unfamiliar. You’re starting to feel dizzy.

“Because you gave me a fake number!” You gawk at him in confusion. “Or that’s what I thought, until you were talking earlier and I put it all together.” He grins, seemingly finding his confidence again. “Your shitty handwriting made me misread your number. I almost thought it was on purpose until now, that you just wanted to get rid of me. But it was all a misunderstanding.”

The weight of his words settles on your shoulders, making your head spin. All a misunderstanding? All those stupid tears and endless nights over… a misunderstanding? You could laugh. You do, actually. The sound makes Yoongi jump as the two of you step outside, the night oddly warm despite the time nearly reaching midnight. A stupid, dopey grin spreads across your face.

Yoongi doesn’t hate you. He doesn’t think you’re stupid or unlikable. You’d done everything right, well, almost everything right. It’s humorous, really.

“So, uh… What do ya say? Tomorrow? Seven?” You smirk.

“Bold of you to assume I’m free.” Yoongi’s grinning too, enjoying the casual banter significantly more than the way his face grew flushed and he couldn’t seem to spit out what he wanted to say.

“Well, then cancel your plans.” His eyes flash wildly and you giggle childishly, taking delight in his antics. You nod, your cheeks beginning to ache.

“Tomorrow at seven.” Yoongi grins as you prepare to go your separate ways.

“Tomorrow at seven.” You spin and begin walking the other way, but not before Yoongi can call after you again.

“What?” You laugh, yelling at him from down the sidewalk, the streetlamps barely illuminating his figure.

“Check your nametag! And text me when you’re home so I know you’re safe!” You laugh again.

“I don’t even have your number, dipshit!” Yoongi sighs loudly, the sound echoing down the empty street.

“Just check the fucking nametag!”

“Fine, fine!” You giggle as you peel the sticker off your shirt. Your giggle intensifies when you see its contents.

Along with your name, Yoongi decided to draw a small picture that you could only assume was you, composed of an angry face, frazzled hair, and devil horns. And in the bottom right corner is a string of digits. You’re grinning from ear to ear as you stare at the piece of paper. You tell yourself to find a safe place to keep it when you get home.

“Goodnight, Y/N!” he shouts, figure fading farther in the distance.

“Goodnight!”

You practically skip home, your body singing with adrenaline and joy.

You muse that your world might never be in balance or harmony, not in your lifetime, anyway.

But with you beside Yoongi, you thought it’d be pretty damn close.

#bts #bts scenario #bts fanfic #bts fluff #yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi scenario #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fluff #suga #bts suga #bts yoongi #bts x reader #fjdslkfsdl this took me too long #watching jk's live while editing this lmao #hope you enjoy!!

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shortprince-cos · 4 years

Text

Sanders Asides Reactions

Putting it below cut because uh spoilers

-ITS CALLED "GAY OR NAY" HZJSNSMSJOBS

-"Flirting With Social Anxiety" Its about time you realized Roman

-speaking of Roman, ROMANS ON THE THUMBNAIL HSBSJSBHSBSB HE'S HERE

-art is also on the thumbnail, is this what he meant by "different"?

-intros the same besides (ha) the drawn on "A" so I'm guessing this will have a lot of animation in it?

-oh!!! Its 24 minutes!!! That's more than I thought which is good!!!

-"This episode is a central viewing for the overall storyline-" w h a t

-IT IS GONNA BE AN ANIMATIC I KNEW IT

-THE PREVIEW CLIPS LOOK SO CUTE AND FUNNY I'M SO EXCITED!!!!!

-omg they might do it live action too????

-oh the patreon thing is real alright, I'm ready for all the negative posts to come back on my dash

-"a little sampler...side" JDVDHNSJSB THOMAS I LOVE U

-WAIT THE TWEET WHERE HE SAID IT FEELS LIKE HIS OWN SATURDAY MORNING CARTOON WAS TOTALLY A HINT WASN'T IT

-"Flirt or Flight" GDDTDTDTDYFYFHFDYD

-oh Thomas we all do it

-me too Thomas

-ROMAN AND VIRGIL ARE GONNA POP OUTTA NOWHERE FOR LIKE 3 MINUTES AREN'T THEY

-GOOD BECAUSE I LOVE THIS

-Roman and Virgil making fun of Thomas' age DUVSJSDBDJJ YES

-the "I love you" thing omg dubdjsnsjdbhs

-"...you made me say that!" Hdjsbsjbsj

-"STOP PLAYING WITH PEOPLE'S HEARTS THOMAS" STSDYDDYDGDCUFFU ROMAN KNOWS FROM FIRST HAND EXPERIENCE

-i really like how Roman is playing a role in Thomas' anxiety, I wonder where the flirtings gonna come from tho

-Roman and Virgil, c'mon, that liar song is SO season one.

-AWWW WHO'S THIS HANDSOME GUY

-"We don't know if he's not gay." "You have used that argument on me far too many times" HA

-"He's got stickers on his laptop" "pretty gay" this is what happens when I try and find out if a girl is gay or not.

-"without having to do anything too extreme...like talking" ME TOO VIRGIL

-VIRGIL AND ROMAN BOTH LOVING THE NIGHTMARE BEFORE CHRISTMAS STICKER IS THE SOLIDARITY WE NEED

-"Pins!" HOW DOES VIRGIL DO THE SAME THING I DO WHEN TRYING TO FIGURE OUT SOMEONES SEXUALITY DHBSNSJSB

-also Roman's "-and needles? I'm on them too." Is adorable I love you Roman I missed you so much-

-"those jokes are old-" "you would know" OMG BUD

-"the sticker-button system" omg he has a system i love that

-OMG THEY'RE BEING THE SPORTS TALKER PEOPLE I LOVE THEM

-"I don't want me to be doing this either" MOOD

-GAY

-"great he's gay." U don't sound that excited?

-"No man!" "Uh its ROman. With an R" THE HIMBO IS BACK

-"...gay eyes?" "Gay eyes." WHAT ARE GAY EYES I NEED TO KNOW

-OMG ROMANS LITTLE SHOULDER SHIMMY HSBSJSBSJDBD

-"and this works?" "Most of the time...no." Hdbdjbshsb all gays are useless its ok

-dtdtdydyxydufyxyx Virgil's test spiel hhsbsjhsh

-"that's gotta mean something." "...that he likes basketball" Thomas has been DONE this entire video and I am here for it

-"i hate to rain on your black parade, Gerrard Gay-" UXVDJDBDJBXJXBXNDN ABOUT TIME

-"you're making a mistake!" "If I am, I'll add it to the list!" WHAT LIST WAIT ROMAN-

-omg Roman and Virgil are basically playing soccer with Thomas dhdbbdndjdb they keep pushing him xudbbdhdhd

-no one:

Thomas: 👉👈

-no one:

Thomas: oh hi thanks for checking in im ✨still a piece of garbage✨

-"that's like cyberstalking...but real life" "so...stalking" "...OH YOU'RE RIGHT" WHAT KIND OF INCORRECT QUOTE DID THIS COME FROM GSHXBJXNDJDN

-the guys gonna come out from the stall isn't he

-oh this got deep real quick ahhh my heart

-OMG I WAS VERY CLOSE THIS POOR RANDOM DUDE

-w h a t

-virgil what does this mean

-WAIT

-"will Deceit continue to be the answer to all your problems?" OMG WE GOING THERE TODAY BOIS

-OMG CUTE BOI INCOMING

-"HE FEARS THINGS TOO?" VIRGIL IS A HIMBO TOO OMG

-OMG NOOO GAY PANIC WHYYY

-"one more chance at happiness...squandered." Roman are u ok

-haha jk

-hes never ok

-OMG VIRGIL

-the tiny panickey breaths hit really hard for some reason

-you're gay for Roman I know u are why else would u do that

-omg Thomas this is so cute the gayyyssss

-I would die for Nico

-"...THAT WAS YOU?" YES NICO ILY

-"nothing but a bruised ego" "*annoyed prince noises*"

-OMG MY PRINXIETY HEART ROMAN JUST PUT HIS HAND ON VIRGIL'S SHOULDER AND THEY'RE HAVING A HEARTFELT CONVERSATION AHHHHH

-omg that's it

-"emphasis on the old" ROMAN YOU'RE HERE SHDVDHBDJDHDH

-"Janus' patreon" omg Janus dghdjdhdhdh how did u do this

-"Janus' Corridor of Storred Rewards" dudbdnndbdb only Janus would have the title be that extra

-I want the shirt ahhh

-OMG THEM ALL COMING HOME EXCITED IS SO CUTE I LOVE THEM

-OMG VIRGIL WHAT HAPPENED WITH YOUR EYESHADOW IT LOOKS AWESOME

-wait does it change depending on his mood?! Omg that's so cool!!!!!!

-omg Virgil is so happy my heart cant take this!!!!! Is this the first we've seen him extremely happy and that's why his cool eyeshadow is changing?!?!?!

-"join me! No thinking!" OMG HE'S AWARE THAT HES A HIMBO HSVSJSBDHDH

-"its in France" "im listening" our biggest mistake was thinking Virgil wasn't a himbo hdbdjdnjdjdj

-omg virgil is an adhd mood

-oh and we're deep again ok

-"AHH DEMON" OMG VIRGIL ITS JUST A DOG GSBDJDBDJDN

-"DONT TELL ME TO RELAX" FSTFYFCHCCHFU

-omg im

-I cant

-that was so good dhdbdjdnjd

#sanders sides #ts spoilers #sanders sides spoilers #prinxiety #ts virgil #virgil sanders #ts roman #roman sanders #character!thomas #sanders sides reactions

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audreycritter · 4 years

Note

Hey! for the prompt thingy, the batboys bored (in quarantine maybe?), giving each other terrible haircuts? And if you throw some angs for no good reason in the middle, even better! Thank you!! :D

Listen, I’m so sorry, I think I broke? I thought it was going to have angst but it didn’t happen. I don’t know who I am anymore. ***

“I’m going to actually murder you,” Tim Drake said, while studying himself in the handheld mirror. The mirror frame was navy plastic, with rocketship stickers on the back; one of them was peeling in a little curl that dusted Tim’s knuckle.

“C’mon, it’s not that bad,” Dick Grayson said from behind him. His expression, when Tim caught it in the reflection, was slightly strained-- his teeth tugged at his bottom lip, and he quickly schooled it into something that looked more thoughtful than anxious. Fingers darted out and tried, repeatedly, to smooth down a stubborn lock of hair sticking up above Tim’s forehead.

“Uh-huh,” Tim said, unconvinced.

“It’s just used to laying this way,” Dick insisted. “You’ve gotta retrain it. A shower will help. Then blow dry it.”

“Blow dry? Who has time to blow dry hair?” Tim sputtered.

“Do you not blow dry your hair?” Dick asked, raising an eyebrow. He withdrew his hand just in time to miss Tim swatting at his fingers, and took a step back to study his work.

“Do you?” Tim exclaimed, twisting in the seat. Soft brown clumps of hair fell from his shoulder to the floor when he moved, and he scratched irritably at his neck.

“Of course I do,” Dick said.

Tim raised the mirror and frowned again. “I don’t have time in my life for–”

“You do, right now,” Dick interrupted. Tim shot him a glare.

“I don’t want to have time in my life for blow drying. A trim. I said a trim. We should have waited for Alfred, this is…this is…”

“So, it’s a little avant garde. You’re a trendsetter. King of the mods.”

“I. Am. Going. To. Disembowel. You. With. One. Of. Alfred’s. Tea. Spoons.”

“If you do,” a voice drifted up from beneath the nearby dressing bench in Bruce’s master bath, “you will not succeed. I will take that spoon and place it so deep in your left nostril that–”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Dick said, ducking down to stare at Damian. “Nobody is killing anybody with a teaspo-- why the left nostril?”

“The right,” Damian replied sharply, “is for the knife.”

“Like you can reach that high,” Tim rolled his eyes.

“We’re the same height!” Damian screeched, a long-running argument resurfacing in a heartbeat. “The same!”

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” said Tim. “Dick. Fix this. Find someone in the house who can fix this or I will put sugar in your cycle engine.”

“Tim,” Dick said. He spread his hands in a placating gesture. “That’s a little harsh. Hair will grow back.”

“Fix. It.”

“Though I am loath to do so, I must, in this case, agree with Drake,” Damian grumbled, climbing out from beneath the bench to kneel on the floor. “You have succeeded in making him look more ridiculous. You have my congratulations, Richard, I did not believe such a thing could be done.”

“Ah, there it is,” Tim nodded, a rueful scowl twisting his lips. He pinched his fingers together. “You were this close to being nice. So close. A baby step away.”

“I will fix it,” Damian said. “Where are father’s clippers?”

“No. You’re not getting anywhere near my head with a blade of any kind,” Tim said, reeling back in the seat. He stumbled halfway to his feet and shot a pleading look at Dick.

“I’ll use the clippers,” Dick said, taking them from Damian when he finished rummaging in a cabinet and withdrew with them in his hands. “What guard?”

“I don’t know. Seven? Three? Four? What number do I say that fixes this?” Tim asked. He shrugged, a slump to his frame. He looked defeated. “I just wanted a trim.”

The only sound in the room for several minutes was the low hum of the clippers. When Dick stepped back, Tim examined himself again in the mirror and sighed at the single-length buzz cut.

“Dick,” he whined. “I look like a reject from the Marines.”

Bruce materialized behind them in the doorway, and confiscated the scissors Damian was spinning in the air by snatching them on an upward arc.

“Told’ja I could do it,” Dick crowed, triumphant. “Shorter than an inch. Pay up, sucka.”

“Dick!” Tim exhaled, aghast, glancing between Dick and Bruce. “Bruce? Really? You bet on my hair?”

“Just in time for a family portrait,” Bruce said. “It looks nice. It’ll grow back, Tim.”

Tim’s mouth hung open for a minute before he stammered, “What did he even win?”

Tim’s eyes caught Damian’s in a single brief second of younger sibling solidarity and Tim knew Damian wasn’t going to sound a warning.

“A day with the car,” Bruce said, and the faint sound of scissors going snick trailed his words. Dick’s hand flew back so fast he nearly caught his palm on the blades, but Bruce must have anticipated and moved them quickly. The expression of betrayed horror on Dick’s face was nearly comical, as a large, uneven chunk of the hair dusting his shoulders fell to the tile floor.

“Bruce,” Dick said, his gaze wide and wounded.

“Don’t make that face,” Bruce said, but it was pleading instead of scolding. He leaned closer, all the same, to speak nearly directly into Dick’s ear. “No. Damn. Mullets.”

“The level of control you try to exert over our hair choices is approaching dictatorship,” Tim started, “and I’m going to–”

“The new WE laptop prototype is yours if you can get Cassandra’s hair combed for the portrait photo,” Bruce said. “Damian’s taking it tomorrow night to use as a painting reference.”

“Done,” Tim said. “Bows? Hairband?”

“Let’s not ask for miracles, here,” Bruce said. He turned to Dick. “Should I finish?”

“Damian,” Dick grumbled, maintaining eye contact with Bruce. He held out the clippers. “Cut my hair.”

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ptersparkers · 4 years

Text

hell froze over

summary: it’s a thursday afternoon and caliban’s taken you by surprise when he teleports to earth and asks you out on a date. not that you’d ever say no.

warnings: mentions of religion and typos, probably.

a/n: lol i can hear my parents sh*uting so i’m gonna write instead because!! we love distractions!!

add yourself to my taglist!

Sabrina Spellman swore that Hell would have to freeze over the second she saw Caliban get “soft” and care for mortals.

That day was today.

Greendale, being the small town that it was, housed many local favorites which included Dr. Cerberus’ diner, also dubbed as the local hangout of the Fright Club. There wasn’t much to say about the whole situation about who was running Hell with Sabrina’s clone down under and the Sabrina you knew alive and well, talking your ear off about Nick this, Harvey that, and Caliban this and that.

If you were being completely honest, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

So when Caliban teleported back up to Earth’s surface and caught you off guard leaving school grounds, you let out the loudest yell imaginable and dropped all of the books and stray pieces of paper you were carrying.

“Jesus Christ,” you said, clutching your heart. You bent down and started to pick up what you had dropped.

Caliban chuckled. “Not quite. Doubt he’s ever going to come to Earth.”

You didn’t pay much attention to his comment in favor of gathering everything that was on the concrete and Caliban frowned, bending down to help you pick up some notebooks that were closer to him than you. When you finally stood up, you moved strange of hair out from your face and huffed, annoyed.

“If you’re going to scare me, at least do it where people won’t see because I’m pretty sure I’ve embarrassed myself enough for this entire school year.” The corner of Caliban’s mouth lifted into a smirk when he saw you try to reassure your schoolmates and tugged on your backpack strap to get your attention.

“It’s a Thursday afternoon,” he stated.

“Yes?”

“Do you have any plans?”

You were taken off guard.

“What are you planning?” you asked with a raised brow.

“Nothing bad,” he promised. “Since Sabrina number two is down in Hell dealing with things for the weekend, I figured why not come up here and spend the day with my favorite mortal.” You laughed at the sentiment and fixed your backpack to keep the straps from falling.

“Well, I’m headed to the diner to study for a little bit before I head to cheerleading practice,” you explained. “I have about two hours before I have to be there so might as well eat and study. You know, kill two birds with one stone.”

“Mind if I join you?” he asked.

“You want to watch me study for two hours? It’a gonna be kind of boring,” you explained.

“Think of me as your study-buddy.”

“Where did you even learn that phrase?”

“Sabrina’s rubbing off on me,” Caliban said with a low laugh. He gestured away from you. “Lead the way.”

The diner wasn’t too packed when you arrived and you chose a table big enough to let you put your laptop and notebooks on while having a plate of food beside you. Your water bottle sat proudly in Caliban’s hands as he looked at the various stickers stuck to it.

“This is quite peculiar,” he said.

“It’s a bunch of memories,” you explained. “This one’s from the camp grounds Harvey and I used to go to when we were younger. The orange one is from when Sabrina and I first became friends and that red one is the first sticker I saw with the world ‘Hell’ on it after coming back from, you know, Hell.”

Caliban smiled at that one. “You’re odd.”

You tilted your head and chuckled, not knowing how to respond to such a comment. You turned your attention to the screen in front of you, reading online articles assigned to you for your AP World History class.

“What is ‘AP’?” Caliban asked, looking at the textbook that sat beside your computer.

“It stands for advanced placement. It’s basically a college course for high schoolers so we don’t have to take it when we get to college and it gives us school credit.”

“Sounds complicated.”

“It is,” you said, clicking out of the article you had finished taking notes on. “I think this while ‘Hell’ ordeal set me back because I haven’t been studying as much as I used to. At the end of the school year, everyone who takes AP classes has the chance to take a test that determines a score, which determines college credit.”

“You humans are so overachieving,” he commented, stealing a fry from your plate. “But I suppose being knowledgable isn’t bad.”

“Sometimes I feel like I put too much pressure on myself,” you confessed, your gaze back on the man sitting in front of you. “Like, does this really matter? Whether I ace or fail my AP tests won’t matter in the long run and it’s not like I can avoid going to Heaven or Hell.”

Caliban quirked an eyebrow, realizing that discovering the secrets of witches, Hell, and Heaven had left you in a turmoil that no one bothered to discuss. Sabrina was a witch and had accepted her fate on her sixteenth birthday. As for the other three mortals, they had some sort of lineage in magic that offered them solace. You did not.

“Going to Hell really messed with you, didn’t it?” You didn’t want to say anything in fear of offending Caliban. When he wasn’t trying to steal the throne from Sabrina, he was a decent person, you thought.

“Um,” you said, pausing, “I think it made me realize some things. I think those things are making me confused about the next step in my life and if what I’m doing is worth finishing.”

Caliban looked at you and the various books, notebooks, and writing utensils sprawled out on the table. He saw your color-coded planner, binders that kept your articles and paperwork in place, and the dark tint underneath your eyes. That was all he needed to know.

“I think you’re on the right path. From the looks of it,” he said, gesturing to the messy table in front of you, “you are so passionate and dedicated about learning and doing something with your life. Not many people can say the same. You have the advantage of knowing Hell exists and the second layer to humanity while others wonder about religion and faith. Use it to your advantage.”

“If I hear this correctly, it seems like you don’t want me to give up.”

“I don’t,” he said, almost too quickly. “Your ambition to do well on your tests resembles my quest to become King of Hell. As I have found out another way to rule Hell alongside Sabrina, I think you’re going to find out what you’re meant to do in life.”

“You’re starting to sound like someone who believes in God.”

He chuckled. “God and angels exist. You know that now. I suppose you’ll have to continue praying to find out what He has in store for you.”

You sat there, dumbfounded. It wasn’t too long ago that Caliban had been in the grand room, cursing angels and Heaven above out of frustration and anger. You and Sabrina had been waiting for him to finish throwing his tantrum before she could engage in business with him, so hearing Caliban talk about having faith in something that even he didn’t believe him gave you a glimmer of motivation.

“I don’t even know what to say,” you said softly, fiddling with a pen.

“Go out with me,” Caliban said. “To that drive in theater across town. You mentioned once that you like to go there when you’re stressed. We could forget about Heaven and Hell for one night.”

“Okay,” you said quietly, earning a gigantic grin from Caliban.

As you were about to pack up your belongings, you heard a “Oh for Satan’s sake” from behind you and turned to see Sabrina rolling her eyes, already dressed in her cheer uniform.

“Caliban, my clone and I are going to beat your ass if you hurt Y/N in any way,” she said in a sickly sweet tone. Caliban nodded, heading the message without much argument. You packed up your belongings and ran to use the restroom, leaving the two mystical beings alone.

“I really like her,” Caliban said after a brief pause. “And I know you don’t agree wholeheartedly but I intend to prove otherwise.”

“Y/N’s smart and won’t take anything from a boy if she’s not comfortable with it,” said Sabrina. “All I’m saying is you should watch you back should you ever hurt her in any way because it’s not just the Fright Club that’s gonna come after you.”

Caliban gulped and watched as you emerged, putting your hair in a low bun before walking outside to go to cheerleading practice.

“How does tomorrow night sound?” Caliban asked before you entered Harvey’s truck.

“Pick me up at six,” you said, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “And this time, please don’t teleport and scare me.”

The boy made of clay laughed and promised not to, watching as you climbed into the truck and waved goodbye. He saw Sabrina give him an all-knowing look, but he was determined to befriend your friends if it was the last thing he did.

Hell, he had an entire lifetime to get to know you.

***

BONUS:

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked as Harvey and Sabrina looked at you. The keys were in the engine but Harvey didn’t bother moving, opting to look between you and the spot where Caliban had teleported to Hell.

“I know he’s kind of a good guy now, but are you serious?” Harvey asked.

“What?” you asked, provoking him. “Am I not allowed to be in relationships like you two?”

“I’m just surprised, is all,” said Sabrina. “I mean, you did hate him when we first met him.”

“Absolutely nobody messes with my best friend,” you said. “You two, well, the other you, is ruling with him peacefully.”

“What is he tries to pull a trick?” Harvey asked.

You had to admit, that was a fair concern.

“I don’t think it’ll come to that, but if it does, there’s no way in Hell, literally, I’m choosing a boy over my best friends. Who, by the way, I’ve been friends longer with.”

Harvey seemed to like this answer and started the engine, driving back to the school grounds with you in between him and Sabrina.

“I guess Hell really did freeze over.”

***

taglist:

@princessdolan @ashyramblings-ficrecs.

#caliban x reader #caliban #caos x reader #sam corlett x reader #caliban imagines #sam corlett x you #caos imagines #chilling adventures of sabrina x reader #chilling adventures of sabrina #sabrina spellman #harvey kinkle #my writing #hell froze over

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altomer · 4 years

Text

Kuuipo Chapter 1

Paring: Steve Mcgarrett x reader

Fandom: Hawaii 5-0

Warnings: none that I can think of.

Song: American Woman - Lenny Kravitz

Request: None

Outfit

I gripped the steering wheel, watching as my knuckles turned white. I sat outside the palace. My nerves were on edge. I didn’t understand why I was so nervous. It was completely stupid. I took a deep breath and swung the door open. The gravel crunched under my boots. I tugged at the blue air force t-shirt that hung on my shoulders. I glanced at my watch. 10:15, perfect. I smiled to myself as I made my way to the door.

“You're late.” A man said not even bothering to turn around.

“Actually, commander, I'm 15 minutes early.” I didn’t even try and hide the frustration in my voice. He was the SEAL I was sure of that much, The man swung around as the rest of the team looked at me. His eyes widened for a second before he raised his eyebrows. He was attractive, I couldn’t lie. He has green eyes and dark hair. He was tall and well built. The black shirt he wore hugged his arms

“You're the OSI Agent?” The disbelief in his voice didn’t go unnoticed. Any attraction to him went out the window.

“Is there something wrong.” He shook his head. “When they said OSI I thought of someone more-”

“Male?”

“Taller.”

I didn’t know if I should be more offended or less offended. I shook my head letting out a sigh. I passed him to the rest of the team. I held my hand out to the closest person.

“First Lieutenant L/N.”

“Danny Williams.” I let out a sigh of relief. They weren’t all stuck up assholes.

The rest of the team was nice enough. Definitely not as bad as Mcgarrett. I looked to Danny

“So what do we have?” He went to hand me a file only to have it snatched out of his hand. I clenched my jaw. This was going to be harder than I thought.

“Lets see what you’ve got Princess.”

“Is this really time for your pissing contest Steve?”

“No,” I said, snatching the file from him.”I’ll do it.” I flipped open the folder 4 pictures sat on top. I set the file down, spreading the photos out.

“The girls are all around the same age, brown hair, blue eyes.” I thought aloud. I moved the pictures looking to the Missing persons reports instead. “They all went missing around the same area at the same time.” I continued deeper into the file. I furrowed my brows bringing my hand up to my mouth. I chewed on the side of my thumb thinking. “Sex-Trafficing? No-” I shook my head.

“Why not?” Steve asked, crossing his arms. I could tell that’s what they were thinking. “There wouldn’t be a pattern like this. I tapped the map that was in the file.

“Could be a coincidence.” Danny said.

“No,” I said “Me running into you at the store is a coincidence.” I grabbed the map and the girls pictures and walked to a cork board. “This,” I pinned the pictures up “This is a pattern.” I turned to face the team. “I think you have a serial killer.” I crossed my arms waiting for a response. Danny clapped slowly, before pointing to Steve.

“You my friend just got your ass handed to you.” The SEAL grumbled grabbing his own copy of the file. He slid a gun and badge across the table to me.

“Kono, L/N go talk to the first victims' family and see what you can find.” he said without looking up from the file. I nodded smiling to Kono as I pulled my keys out of my pocket.

“I’ll drive.”

As Kono and I pulled into the driveway a man ran out of the house screaming at a teenager who now stood on the grass holding his hand up.

“It’s your fault she’s gone!” He yelled pointing at the boy. The man whipped a gun out of his waistband. I heard a woman scream from the house. I snatched my gun and jumped out of the Bronco.

“5-0 drop the gun!” I yelled. the man stood pointing the gun. The boy was on his knees crying.

“He’s the reason my Jamie is dead!” The man’s hands were shaking. I holstered my gun and take a step forward holding my hands up.

“I can only imagine how you’re feeling.” His eyes flicked to me. “You're an Airman right.” I said pointing to the two flags flying in his yard. “I am too brother.” Tears flooded his eyes and he dropped the gun. I rushed forward and kicked the gun towards Kono. I turned to the man, tears were rushing down his face. The pain from his loss over taking him. “I promise I will find who killed your daughter.” His eyes met mine and he brought his hand up to a shaky salute. I gave him a sad smile before returning the salute.

Once we finished talking to the family Kono and I climbed into the Bronco. I leaned my head against the steering wheel.

“That was amazing!” She said looking at me.

“It was nothing.” I said my voice low. It tore me apart to see the way that man was hurting. Maybe I wasn’t ready to work again.

“That was some of the best deescalation I have ever seen.” I hummed pushing myself up. I turned the key starting the Bronco. I pulled out of the driveway as Kono’s phone rang. I watched the road but all I could think about was that man’s face. He lost his little girl, his daughter.

“They need us back at base.” I nodded flicking on my turn signal.

“You did your best.” I nodded again, swallowing the bile in my throat.

As we walked back into the office, all eyes were on us.

“How’d it go?”

“Ask Y/N?” I knew Kono was trying to get me out of this shell I had reverted into but that definitely didn’t help. I turned on my heel storming out of the hall. I heard heavy footsteps following behind me. Cursing under my breath I pushed a door open. Tears ran down my cheeks. I ran a hand through my hair. I remember when the C-17 landed. It was just me and a coffin. The girl who I was sent to save. The way her family looked at me. The anger. The pain. It was the same way that man looked at that boy. Who was I to survive when their baby girl wasn’t coming home. I heard the door open and quickly wiped the tears. The door closed and the light above me flicked on. Steve stood in front of me. Well as far as he could stand since I had chosen to hide in a closet apparently.

“Why are you crying in a closet out of all places?” His voice was calm and smooth unlike earlier and I wanted a hug so bad. No. Get yourself together. I leaned my head against the wall.

“I know why you were discharged.” My head shot up. No one was supposed to know that it had been cleared. “Are you ok?” His voice wasn’t pitiful. “If you can’t finish this case it’s fine.” I looked into his eyes and I remembered my promise to the father.

“The father,” I said clearing my throat, I swiped my hand across my cheek catching the stray tear that had escaped my eye. “The pain of losing his daughter.” I shook my head.

“How often does this happen?” He asked. I looked at him, narrowing my eyes. I shook my head.

“The survivors' guilt, the panic attacks.” I shook my head.

“I’d hardly call this a panic attack.”

“Answer the question.”

“Not as often as you think.”

“That's not an answer.”

“Why do you care?”

I saw a look cross his face. I couldn’t quite place it. It bugged me how easily he could read me. He grabbed my arms gently.

“My team is my family,” He paused. “And even if you’ve been here for less than a day you are a part of that team, that family.” I looked into his eyes. I let out a shaky breath. I was on the edge. One push and I’d be over it. “What happened was not your fault.” His words hit me like a brick. No one had told me that since it had happened. No, no one really believed it enough to say it. Even if they would have I wouldn’t have believed them. But from him it was different. That was the push. I felt myself falling, not literally but I was spiraling. My shoulders shook as I let the tears fall. Steve pulled me to his chest.

“She shouldn’t have died.” I cried my voice barely a whimper. “He killed her to taunt me.” Steve shushed me, rubbing circles into my back. “This is so similar.”

“I know.”

Something inside me clicked as my sobs slowly quieted. I stepped away from Steve, rubbing my hands over my face. At this point I was really glad I had decided not to wear makeup. I had made up my mind. “Let’s get this bastard before he hurts anyone else.” I saw Steve’s face fall. I shoved the closet door open and ran back into the office. All eyes were back on me.

“So?” I asked, Danny pointed to the corkboard where a fifth picture was pinned next to the map.

“They found her body 3 hours ago.” I grabbed her missing persons report.

“A new girl goes missing every two days.” I looked at the pictures. “Can you find me every missing person’s report for anyone who matches this description?” Kono nodded and moved to her laptop. Steve had resumed his place at the head of the table. I felt his eyes on me.

“Has anyone talked to the vic’s family?” I asked, Steve shook his head. I nodded.

“I’ll go.” I started towards the door. Steve followed behind me. I didn’t question it. I had a feeling there was a piece we were missing. I pulled myself up into the Bronco.

“This is yours?” Steve asked, amused. I grinned as the engine roared to life.

“Yep, My baby.” I ran my hand over the steering wheel. A chuckle escaped his throat. The feelings from earlier were nothing but a memory at the moment.

“You got something to say commander?” I nudged his arm with my elbow. He shook his head a smirk on his face. That smirk was something else. It could make anyone weak in the knees.

“No.”

As soon as I saw the marine bumper sticker I realized what we were missing. My stomach fell.

“Mcgarrett.” I said. He looked at me as I pointed out the bumper sticker. He looked at the sticker and back to me.

“You don’t think.” I nodded. He was targeting Military families.

“I’ll call Kono.” I mumbled pulling my phone out of my pocket. I was glad the woman had the foresight to put her number in my phone. Steve jumped out of the car.

“I’ll go talk to them,”

I pressed the call button and held the phone to my ear.

“Kono.”

“Hey It’s Y/N, I need you to check if the other vics are military brats.”

It didn’t surprise me when Kono gave me the news that the girls were in fact from military families. Steve climbed into the Bronco, his mood solem. He looked at me expectantly. I nodded.

“Shit.” he grumbled. His phone rang in his pocket as he answered it he put it on speaker phone.

“Another girl was just abducted from Monoa Park!” Danny’s panicked voice cut through the speaker. I threw the car in reverse and flicked on the newly equipped sirens. Steve looked at me.

“Thank the governor.”

I shot around a corner.

“Danny did she have her cell on her.” I asked

“Kono’s working on that.”

“Car description.” Steve asked, his eyes wandering from car to car.

“Black SUV, either a chevy or a ford.” I spotted one ahead. I hit Steve in the arm. He turned the siren off as I pulled up behind him.

“We got a hit!” Kono’s voice echoed through the phone. My phone buzzed in the cupholder. I reached for it as the light turned green. The SUV shot forward. Steve grabbed the phone from my hand as I trailed them.

“That’s them.”

I nodded as I backed off.

“We’re on our way.” Danny called hanging up. My hands were shaking against the leather of the steering wheel. I turned down the road that the SUV had taken a few seconds prior. Shots rang out from the car. They bounced of the hood of the car.

“Shit!”

“Get down!” Steve yelled. I ducked down snatching my gun and stepped on the gas. Steve returned fire. I flipped on the siren. “Fuck it!”

The SUV swung around a corner into a dirt trail. Gravel flew as I slammed the accelerator. Their bumper was inches from the hood. I growled as I slammed into their bumper. They fishtailed on the trail struggling to regain traction.

“Back off.” Steve said as he reached over the seat to grab a ballistic vest he had thrown back there earlier.

We flew into a clearing bullets racing toward us. I slammed on the breaks. I heard sirens racing up the trail behind us. Steve jumped out using the Bronco as cover. I crawled across the seats. I fell to the ground sending shots in the direction of the SUV. I looked around the front of the Bronco as they pulled two girls out of the back.

“They have two!” I yelled. I brought my gun up and shot two of the three goons. One of the girls ran forward.

It felt like everything slowed as the last man brought his gun up and aimed it towards the girl.

BANG

I watched as the girl crumpled to the ground. Steve whipped around and shot twice. The last girl ran towards me, throwing herself into my arms. I hugged her but couldn’t tear my eyes from the girl on the ground. Two cars flew into the clearing. Danny jumped out of the car and rushed towards us. I stared at the body. I felt the girl let go only to be ushered away by Danny. I felt Steve place his hand on my back and lead me to the side of the Bronco as the officers covered her body. All I could think about was her scared face. If I was quicker, If I was smarter, If I was… If I was…

“Y/N.”

“L/N”

“Princess.”

“Y/N” I felt someone’s hands on either side of my face. I looked into a pair of green eyes. They were full of worry, full of sorrow. I closed my eyes. “Don’t do this to yourself.” His hands were still on my face. Why was he touching me? Why did I like it? “You saved her.” he took a deep “You saved one person that is not failure.”

Steve drove back to the palace.

“I’ll be back.” He jumped out of the car slamming the door shut. I stared out the windshield. The glass was cracked in the bottom corner. I leaned forward running my fingers over the splintered glass. I’m thoroughly surprised that the entire window wasn’t shattered. My body felt numb but my mind was racing. I pushed my back against the seat pulling open the glovebox. I pulled out the pack of gum and popped two sticks in my mouth. Chewing on something calmed me down.

The drivers door opened and Steve pulled himself up.

“Gum?” I offered. He nodded and took a stick. Which surprised me he didn’t seem like a gum guy. I looked out the window as we drove, The ocean sparkled under the moon. I didn’t recognize where we were but I didn’t bother asking. Hawaii was beautiful at night.

He pulled into a driveway before making his way to my side of the Bronco.

“Where are we?”

“You’re staying with me.” He held his hand out for me. I didn’t argue. Any rational thought went out the window as he led me inside. His house was nice. As soon as I walked through the door I saw the ocean on the other side of the house. He led me up the stairs, my feet grew heavy. “You can sleep here.” he opened the door to a bedroom. “There is a shower in there.” he pointed to a door on the opposite wall. “I’ll find you something to wear.” I nodded and started towards the shower.

“Hey Steve.” He turned to look at me. “Thank you.” He gave me his signature smile.

“Your welcome princess.”

I woke up surprisingly comfortable. A ray of sun shone through the blinds. The smell of the ocean and bacon pulled at my senses, I groaned as I opened my eyes. Where was I? The clock read 10:35. I pushed the comforter off and set my feet on the hardwood. I opened the door and stumbled through the hallway and down the stairs. I heard muffled voices from the kitchen so decided to start there.

“Did you hear what happened when she was with Kono?”

“No, I’ll ask her about it.” Steve’s voice cut in. I rounded the corner to see Danny sitting at the island, he raised his coffee.

“Morning Babe.” I raised my eyebrow at the nickname.

“He calls everyone babe.” Steve cut in.

“Nice shirt.” I looked down to see a SEALS shirt. I pinched it and pulled it away from my skin.

“What did you do to get me in this?” I muttered in fake disgust. Steve looked at me and laughed. The skin around his eyes crinkled as he smiled.

“You put that on yourself princess.” I dropped the shirt and slumped into the stool next to Danny.

“In all seriousness,” I started causing Danny and Steve to look at me. “I won’t be like this after every case.”

“We know.” Danny said, bumping my shoulder with his.

“What?”

“It was too much too soon.” Steve said, setting a plate of pancakes in front of me and Danny.

“But you were amazing.” Danny said stuffing pancakes into his mouth. “We need you on the team.” I looked across the island to Steve who smiled.

“Welcome to the team princess.”

#steve mcgarrett x reader #steve mcgarrett #steve x reader #hawaii 5-0 #Hawaii 5-O imagines #hawaii 5-0 imagines #hawaii 5-0 headcanons #hawaii 5-0 x reader #hawaii #hawaii five 0 #hawaii five 0 imagine

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bqstqnbruin · 4 years

Text

The Biochemistry of Smell

Wow, I’m here with another post. I actually started working on this before i got requests, so I’m sorry if you’ve requested stuff, I’m working on that, too, I just really wanted to finish this!

Also fun fact, all the stuff from the ‘paper’ in this is from my actual Biochem final paper from first semester junior year. Is that plagarism ? Oh well.

Hope you like it!

______________________________

The family of odorant receptors also must be able to interact with the given complexity of the molecule. The receptors must bind to the odorant molecules in order to send the message to process the smell.

You were sitting in the Starbucks that was near your apartment building writing a paper on the biochemistry of smell. It was your final project and you needed somewhere with enough noise to tune out in order to sit down and focus. Not that you still don’t have music blasting in your ears, but you needed movement to block out in order to focus. At least that’s what you told yourself. Plus, needing to write this paper for your final project was enough of an excuse to get away from your roommate and her annoying boyfriend as they pretended to work on their finals.

Except, after writing those sentences, you had a hard time figuring out how to continue. You finally look up from your computer to take in everything around you. An older man was walking outside with someone younger than him, a grandson maybe? Some girls who went to school with you gossiping about their professors. A woman in nurses scrubs leaning against the wall on her phone, her drink in hand. A guy at the table in front of you, staring at the stickers on your computer.

“It’s not polite to stare, ya know.” You say, taking out your music, giving the stranger a slight death stare that probably made you look more annoyed than anything.

“I’m just looking at the stickers. They don’t make sense.” He gets up and places himself at the seat opposite you, the one you had your feet on for the last two hours, “I’m Jackson.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t remember asking? And what do you mean they don’t make sense?” You try to ignore his answer, just going back to your paper: Changing the structure of the molecule changes the smell produced by the molecule.

“Oh, a feisty girl. And I mean, you’ve got all these Dallas sports teams stickers, but here we are in Denver. Wait, is that the Boston Red Sox?” he squints at the clear red B that was in the upper right-hand corner of your computer. The Stars logo was in the center, the Cowboys logo under the Sox, the Mavs in the bottom left corner, all surrounded by the other stickers that displayed what you liked for all to see that you’ve had since the beginning of the last school year: the chemistry sticker, Welton, turtles, The Office, Stitch, and more.

“My mom grew up in Boston but I grew up in Dallas, it’s a family team. What do you want from me? I go to school here.”

“So that means we can see each other a lot?” he says, wiggling his eyebrows. God, this guy was annoying.

“You go to Regis, Jackson?”

“No, but I work here, and what are the chances that I’ve seen you here every day for the last week and a half at the same time, the two of us sitting in the same places, at times, but today is the first day you’ve noticed me?”

You shrug, “I’ve been doing work for finals. I have a paper to write.”

“On what?”

“The biochemistry of smell.”

“So what’s your name?”

“Can you please just let me write my paper? I was just fine working on it before you started staring.” You had enough distraction at the apartment with your roommate, you didn’t need to have more distraction in the one place where you could block it out. He keeps talking while you just try to go back to writing. A molecule of higher complexity is typically found to be more pleasant than a molecule with lower complexity. An example of this deals with furan, which has three olfactory notes: cinnamon, smokey, and spicy.

“Hey! I thought we were going to meet at the Starbucks on the other side of campus?” A guy wearing an Avs sweatshirt comes up to you, taking the seat next to you. He plays for them, you just can’t remember his name, but why is he coming up to you?

“Oh, sorry, I must have read your message wrong. I was wondering why you were late,” you decide to play along. He’s much less annoying than Jackson is, and you have to admit, he’s much more attractive.

“Who’s your friend?” He turns to Jackson, who’s now bright red and looks incredibly frustrated over the fact that someone just crashed the one-sided conversation.

“You’re Tyson Jost. How do you know-” he looks at you, realizing he doesn’t know your name.

“Y/N?” you say, glancing up from your computer.

“Y/N’s my girlfriend,” he spits out, his arm finding his way to the back of your chair until his hand ends up on your other shoulder. You have to admit, him doing that made you jump a little, but you were just hoping Jackson didn’t notice it before you settled back into your chair.

“Ya know, I think I actually have to go. Nice to meet you two,” Jackson says, storming out of the Starbucks.

“You looked really annoyed and I figured pretending to know you for a few minutes was better than you killing him,” Tyson says, standing up once Jackson is definitely gone.

“Thanks for keeping me out of jail,” you tell him, smiling up at him. You’re actually sad that he has to go. “Why don’t you take his seat?”

He looks stunned for a moment before a smile spreads across his face, taking the seat. “So I think I heard you were writing a paper on the biochemistry of smell?”

“Uh, yeah, it’s my final paper for my biochemistry lecture.”

“So what, different chemicals cause you to smell different things?”

You look at him, shocked but smiling, “You know something about smell?”

“I get bored and I start reading things.”

The two of you spend hours talking. He was much nicer about the stickers on your laptop. You two had spent so long talking, you didn’t even notice the missed calls from your roommate asking you why you had been gone for so long.

“Hey, just checking in on you, haven’t heard from you in a while. Dylan and I are ordering Chinese good tonight, let me know what you want.”

“Y/N/N, we’re ordering, but if you don’t answer I’m just assuming you want veggie lo mein and egg drop soup. Worst case you eat it tomorrow. Love ya.”

“Bruh, answer your damn phone, would ya? Find my friends says you’re still at Starbs, hopefully you’re with your phone and not off in a ditch or kidnapped in the back of a van. See ya later.”

“Everything alright?” Tyson says, seeing the look on your face as you debate going to your apartment, or possibly asking Tyson to do something else with you tonight.

“Yeah, my roommate is just wondering where I am. I just need to call her back, is that alright?”

“I’ll be right here,” he smiles at you, leaning back in his chair and stretching, revealing abs as his shirt lifts up.

You know your eyes grow wide as your cheeks flush, running to the back near the bathroom so you can call your roommate, “Hey, Jocelyn, I’m fine, I’m still at Starbucks, I’m alive. Go ahead and order with dinner with Dylan without me, I’ll explain later but wow I might be making an ass out of myself right now. Ok, wish me luck, love you, bye.”

“So, once you finish this paper, what are you going to do?” Tyson asks once you get back to the table.

“Uh, probably try to find some dinner. My roommate and her boyfriend are eating at my place, but something tells me they’re going to be doing more than just eating food,” you both laugh as you start to put away your computer, “Any suggestions on where to eat?”

“Well, I know a place that has a special on chicken fajita pasta that I was going to go to,” Tyson says, standing up as you swing your bag over your shoulder, careful to not hit anyone passing by while doing so.

“Oh, really? Where?”

“My place.”

“You’re inviting me for dinner?”

“Only if you can tell me what chemicals are giving off the smells. You are the expert, after all.”

The two of you walk out, his hand finding yours as he leads you to his place. “Well if it’s garlic, it has some sort of sulfur-containing compound, which is the same type of compound that’s associated with rotten eggs and the smell gas companies but into natural gas.”

“So garlic and rotten eggs are the same compounds?”

“No, they just both have sulfur.”

He spends the rest of the walk asking you about your research paper, followed by spending the rest of the evening cooking together, talking about your lives, bonding over the love of hockey you both shared (even though his ran much deeper seeing as he did it for a living). Time flew by, you didn’t even realize it was almost two in the morning when Jocelyn called you again, frantic, “I’m outside the building Find My iPhone says you’re in, and I’m here with Dylan, do we need to come in and kill someone?”

“No, love, calm down. I’ll be down in a few, ok?” You calm her down long enough so you can say goodbye to Tyson.

“We’ll have to do this again?” he asks, looking nervous, running his hand through his hair as he struggles to make eye contact with you.

“I would love that. Maybe next time you can meet my crazy roommate?”

“And maybe next time I can read the full paper on smell?” he asks, blushing by how nerdy that sounded. He actually seemed really interested in reading your paper, just as he has seemed interested in you all night.

“Sure. And, thanks again, for saving me from that guy,” you say, trying to prevent yourself from leaving. You can feel the tension building around the two of you. He wants to at least kiss you, and you definitely want to kiss him.

“Uh, yeah. No problem.”

“Oh, my god,” you say, grabbing his arm. Enough is enough. You kiss him as your hands find their way through his hair, his hands finding his way around your waist.

You can hear a car honking from outside, knowing that it’s Jocelyn and Dylan. Tyson pulls away, obviously startled, but also seems relieved. “Oh, yeah, we have to do this again, please.”

#tyson jost #tyson jost imagines #colorado avalanche #colorado avalanche imagine #avalanche #avalanche imagines #nhl #nhl imagines #hockey #hockey imagine

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timextoxhajima · 4 years

Photo

NCT One Shot Collection

Member: Yuta

Genre: Fluff, a teaspoon of sed

Word Count: 4k

Ding

A message popped up on your laptop screen. It was one of those messages from an online dating app you had been using the past week, and you couldn't wait to delete the stupid thing off your laptop. Why, you ask? You were on a deal with a friend who was trying to get you hooked up with someone, so she helped you install the app into your laptop and she guaranteed you that you would get picked up in no time. The only problem was that you didn't want to be picked up. You were perfectly fine living alone, the peace and tranquility of being alone had become your favourite thing to look forward to at home after work. But being friends with her for 10 years, you decided that it wouldn't hurt, and she wouldn't know anything if you didn't tell her. You roll over back to your desk on your roller chair and click a cross on the popup, before rolling back to your cabinet and sorting out some files for work.

Ding

"Ugh," You groaned and shoved the files back into the cabinet, annoyed. You rolled to the desk, opening the app and looking at the notifications. Someone had left you 2 messages, the first one you had crossed away.

OS0162: Hello! I saw that you were reading a Japanese book in your profile photo. Are you Japanese, or learning?

You frown and process the information. Nobody had ever commented on your profile photo and the Japanese book.

You: I spent some years in Japan when I was younger so I can read Japanese, but I'm Korean by blood.

You hit send, muting your computer and closing the window. After clearing the cabinet, you roll back to your laptop and notice more notifications.

OS0162: Oh, sweet! I'm Japanese, but I'm in Korea now. The book you're reading is really good, and I love the plot.

You frown again, pleasantly surprised. Nobody you knew was aware that the book even existed. But you weren't so quick to buy into his words.

You: Really? What's the plot about? Have you read it?

You hit send again, trying to test his sincerity.

OS0162: I have! More than once! Yakuno travels back to his father's castle through water portals and he freaks when he finds out that Miwanaki had been taken hostage by the government. I won't spoil the ending for you, if you haven't finished the book.

You have, and that was exactly how the book went. He wasn't lying.

You: Cool, so what brings you to Korea?

Send.

OS0162: Parents' family business.

You blinked.

You: Training to become heir?

Send.

OS0162: You could say so, but I'm not the most keen on running around and making sure my henchmen do what they are supposed to do. I kind of have other plans I want to do instead of living my life because I was born into my family.

You paused to wonder and noticed his profile photo was of his back, and yours was of the crown of your head as you were reading the book. Neither of you knew how each other looked.

This is ridiculous.

You shake your head and huffed, shutting off your personal laptop and using your work allocated one instead.

The sun had set and your colleagues began trailing out of the office building one by one, sometimes in two. You were one of the youngest employees, but seated in a supervisor's office. You had a heavier load than your colleagues, and though sometimes it held you back in that boring four-walled room way longer than you colleagues, you didn't mind at all. You loved your work, and nothing could ever tear you away from it, not even that dating website.

"Bye, y/n, don't go home too late," The last standing colleague of yours knocked on your opened office door, her bag in hand.

"I'll see you tomorrow," You smiled at her and waved.

You pushed your hair backwards, leaning forward and saving your work on your work laptop. Closing it, you looked over to your own personal laptop and saw the sticker of Yakuno, the character from the Japanese book, pasted on the back of it. You had spent the first decade of your life in Japan, and your best friend had gifted you that book, the same physical book you were holding in your profile photo you used on the dating website. Your best friend had specially printed a whole sheet of stickers of characters and objects from the book to gift to you before you had left Japan. It was the most heartbreaking thing you could remember from your childhood, because you never saw that person again. The one and only person whom you had diligently remembered every likes and dislikes, even till this day, and yet contact was never kept. It had been more than 10 years, and it hurt you to realise that your best friend probably couldn't even remember how you looked like.

You pushed open the door to your penthouse, the built-in home system turned on jazz, lo-fi music.You pulled off your blazer and your hair tie, making your way into your bathroom and turning on the tap, filling up your bathtub. It had been a long week, and you needed this. You grabbed your phone and sealed it in a small waterproof bag, just in case you drop it in your own bathtub.

Ding. 7 unread messages from Kandlelite

You roll your eyes, annoyed that your laptop and phone were so perfectly in sync that whatever happened on your personal laptop happened on your phone too.

OS0162: Hey, uh... I'm in Korea for two weeks

OS0162: Do you wna hang?

OS0162: I kinda need help with orienting myself around in Korea

OS0162: Especially in Seoul

OS0162: And Busan

OS0162: It's alright if you don't and you're busy though

OS0162: I understand

You couldn't believe it. That flitting thought sped past your mind, thinking of agreeing and actually meeting up with someone you've spent a day talking to.

"Don't be an idiot, how good of a relationship can it be if it was started online?" You locked your phone and lifted your elbow onto the edge of the bathtub, rubbing your temples with your fingers. You were slowly slipping into some kind of peace and sleepiness, before the sound of your doorbell woke you up.

"Jesus Christ, it's Friday night..." You groaned, leaning your head backwards and refusing to get out of the bathtub. The doorbell rang again. You growled and got out of the bathtub, wrapping a baby blue silk robe around yourself, pulling all of your hair to one side and making sure you look the most presentable you could be with wet hair and a robe. You looked at the intercom camera fitted onto the wall near the door, noticing that it was a male right outside, his body language looking confused and anxious. His face was covered and shadowed by his hoodie, so you couldn’t tell who it was. You frown to yourself, pressing the voice button and leaning towards the device.

"Can I help you?"

"Erm yeah... does anybody by the name of y/n live here?"

You frown more. "That's me, who am I speaking to?"

"Open the door and you'll find out," The man replied, almost like a child playing hide and seek. You pull away from the device and fold your arms. If today was the day you were supposed to die, you wouldn't be able to change it anyway. Who was to say that you were not going to be brutally murdered in your own home on a Friday night, right? You took in a deep breath and wrapped your slightly wrinkled fingers around the door handle, pulling it open with some force given the weight of the door.

You would have never forgotten those eyes even if you had dementia, or a billion things on your mind. It was Nakamoto Yuta, your best friend from your childhood.

"Hi y/n," He grinned. His teeth might've gotten larger and looked different, but the shape of his lips when he smiled hadn't changed. The way his eyes remained twinkling, some of his long fringe covering part of his eyes.

"Yuta?" You whisper, like you were scared someone was going to catch you for saying something illegal. He smiled again and nodded, looking at you brightly, not bothering about how you were only in a robe and uncombed hair. He had seen you in a kiddy swimsuit more than 10 years ago anyway. You slowly and messily found a way to get your hands to unlock the gate, your eyes never leaving him for a second. He was dressed in a black hoodie, jeans and sneakers.

"I... how did you find me? Why are you here? How are you here? What--" You stopped yourself, watching him let himself in and close the door behind him.

"It's been a long 13 years, y/n. I hope you're as happy to see me as I am," He said softly, watching your eyes shift in its eye sockets and observing his facial features. You warily stretched out your arms, like there were weights holding them down. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you tiptoed and hugged him.

"I'm sorry I never kept in touch. My parents always told me I'll see you again soon, until your parents decided not to come back to Osaka," Yuta had his arms around your lower back, careful not to touch anywhere inappropriate.

"No, oh my God," You pulled away, tears now in your eyes threatening to fall. "I never blamed you. There wasn't anybody I could blame even if I was really angry. I tried looking for you, but I just... I googled your name everyday in high school!" You laughed softly, sniffling and rubbing your eyes.

"Well then," He was now holding your hands between the two of you. "About how I found you... you can thank yourself for that. I found you through your company's website. Your name was so high up on the rankings, that I was so happy for you. I wanted to look for you earlier, but my parents kept me under some security system to protect me from anything the outside world could offer,"

"What? What do you mean 'protect'? Are you in any kind of danger? Your family?"

"No... I... did you ever find out why exactly you grew up in Japan then had to move back to Korea?"

"No, my parents told me it was a business trip," You turned and gently pulled him to the sofa.

"Yeah, but do you know what business trip it made them stay in Osaka for 15 years, had you born there, then came back to Korea and not return to Osaka?" Yuta was now sitting down next to you, his eyes still fixated on you.

You shook your head. It never occurred to you that the business trip and why they chose not to return to Osaka was related.

"Your parents were working with mine, and it was apparently a very dangerous business. Your parents never went back because it was under the safety protocol. They needed us separated because we were children, too big and too easy of some few targets to threaten the business with.”

You listened intently, confused. You never knew your parents were handling such a dangerous business. After you came to Korea with them, they just let you grow up like any other kid. Study hard, go to university, get a job, work to the top. Whatever your parents' lives had been in the first 12 years of your life was unknown to you. They covered it up so well and so carefully, it never occurred to you that you could've been in any trouble.

"I only found about this a few years ago, when my father told me the business was now stable and fixed. He wanted me to start preparing to take over the business, but before I could do that at home, I needed to find the Korean half of it for a merger sequence. Your parents now live in--"

"Busan," You looked at him, ready to break out in laughter. "You're on Kandlelite. OS0162. OS for Osaka and the numbers... it’s your birthdate reversed," You laughed. Yuta was confused for a moment, before he realised what you were talking about.

"No way, you're the one I've been talking to the entire day? Man, the odds..."

"I know, right? Lord, I just... the last thing I expected on a Friday night in the middle of July is for you to show up on my doorstep after virtually talking to you the entire damn day," You sigh and lean back in the sofa, running your fingers through your damp and uncombed hair. He smiles.

"It's a really nice place you've got here,' He says after a minute of silence.

"You say it like you don't have a nicer place to stay, given what your parents are doing," You joked, nudging him on the side.

"You mean our parents. Your parents are as equally as well to do as mine, and no, I told my dad I didn't want a nice five star hotel."

"What? Then where are you staying? For two weeks, right?" You sat up straight again, giving him the same look you always gave him when he took something of yours and hid it somewhere when you were younger.

"I'm staying at a loft that's more traditional Korean," Yuta nodded. "Just about 20 minutes away from your place,"

"20 minutes? That's great. You can check out now and stay here! I'll bring you around Seoul and Busan for the next two weeks," You got off the sofa and stood up, excited.

"You really didn't change much, y/n. Still the same girl I knew back in Osaka," Yuta blinked at her, then looked away and around. "Are you sure though? Don't you have work? I can't just suddenly crash your place like this,"

"Oh, come on! I can apply for leave until you're done with Korea. And yes, I have more than one bedroom, tons of space and even if I didn't, I would definitely make time for you. Besides, you hate staying at hotels and lofts," You raised a brow. Yuta rolled his eyes before breaking out into a large smile, nodding then agreeing to the arrangement.

It became the best two weeks of your life. It was like those 13 years was never lost and you just picked your friendship up with Yuta where you left it off. You showed him around Seoul in the first week, letting him eat all kinds of street food, visiting random tourist stores for him to pick up gifts for his family. In the second week, the two of you packed for Busan to stay with your parents for a few days. The days were filled with home cooked food by your mother and old ginseng alcohol (Insam-Ju) from your father who were both as excited to see Yuta as you were at the start of the two weeks. Yuta's schedule included visiting schools, hospitals and the poorer areas of Busan, for him to research on how he could help improve the environments through the business and what he could do to help. The business that both you and his parents had started was only dangerous because there were rival companies who wanted the ideas for themselves, with many ideas much more practical and realistic than the rival company's. Your father gave Yuta a bottle of wine that he was supposed to have with Yuta's father, but never did because of the circumstances, the same circumstances where your family was forced back to Korea due to the threats in Osaka. The last three days were spent back in Seoul, where you took him to all your favourite spots in the city. Ramen in a convenience store, a picnic by Han River, late night barbeque sessions and early morning cycling, all in 3 days. While the two weeks spanned longer than a day, it felt like it was a day, but never enough to compensate for the 13 years you had lost with him. All the times that the both of you had tough times, first relationships, first heartbreak, academic stress followed by the obligation to handle the company on Yuta's part, all done without one another and you could only imagine how easier life would've been growing up, had Yuta been with you all this time.

Your last favourite stop which was the stop you procrastinated till the end, due to how cliche it was, was the N Seoul tower. You always loved the romantic part about getting locks as a symbol of promise and eternity. While Yuta took his time admiring the view of the city at the tip of the tower, you got two locks, one for him and one for yourself, whatever promise the both of you wanted, you would write on a sticker and paste it on or write it on the lock itself with a marker.

Yuta wrote his in Japanese, while yours in Korean. You eyed his features from his side profile, marveling for the last 2 weeks how well he grew up to be. He was such a handsome man, with such a bright future and with one of the kindest hearts you knew, not just because he was your best friend. You turned back to your lock, and thought carefully before printing it down in ink.

To Yuta whom I came with, I wish you happiness and love in the years to come. In success and in health, our friendship will never be replaceable. Not even if I get married. I love you with all my heart, I always have.

"I'm done," Yuta smiled at you, capping on his marker and looking at his blue lock like it was a pet. You smile back, looking around the fence for a space to lock them.

That night, the two of you decided to stay in and watch the movie that bonded the both of you: Yakuno's Fairytale. At the end of it, the both of you took deep breaths in synchronization, exhaling at the same rate and feeling some kind of peace, but at the same time, loss, knowing that he was leaving the next morning.

"You know, y/n, this was the best 2 weeks I've had in a long long time. Seeing your parents again after so long made me realise how close I was to your family before, I really wish you could see mine," Yuta looked at you, then looked at his fingers, peeling small bits of skin off the edges.

"You know I'd love to, but I have to stay and work unless it's during some official office break. I was lucky enough they let me off these two weeks," You sighed, leaning back on the pillows and watching him.

"I know, y/n, I know... I just wish the last 13 years I spent alone could have been with you. When my dad told me about the company when I was 21, I freaked, you know. I was... angry and upset because their choice, and your parents' choice, had caused us to be separated. If our parents hadn't chosen to stay in that business, we would have never been separated so... abruptly. It sucked to have realised that they told us we'll be seeing each other again soon just to get us to leave one another... only to wait 13 years,"

"Yeah, but if they didn't take it up, both of us wouldn't have been so well off," You rested your head in your palm, your elbow perched on the top of the sofa.

"I just... 13 years lost, when it could have been with you," He looked at you, his eyes glistening and his eyebrows slightly furrowed near the center of his forehead.

You watched him watch you, almost able to see your reflection in his. You chuckled to break the silence, shifting a little and pulling your legs in to yourself.

"What are you going on about now, Nakamoto?" You mumbled under your breath, your heart racing and suddenly unable to look at him in the eye.

You thought you were the only one.

"Remember when we were 10, we got lost at the Tenjin festival in Osaka together? When we were both scared, but for some God forsaken reason, I was more of a wuss than you were... and you took care of me, though I'm older than you?"

"Yeah, but you were like 2 inches shorter than me, it was easy to feel like you were the one needing protection," You snickered, eyeing him from the corner of your eyes.

"But now you're like 6 inches shorter than me," Yuta laughed widely. "Anyway, point is, y/n, 13 years was hard to get through, because as hard as I tried to forget about you, to move onto someone else, romantically, you were always at the back of my head, telling me that I was going to meet you soon, and that we were never meant to be separated."

You went quiet again, ecstatic, yet afraid of what he was going to say next.

"y/n? Hey," Yuta shifted closer and looked at you intently. You didn't even realise that tears had formed in your eyes and your nose turned sour, your line of vision blur and Yuta's face was soft around the edges, instead of his defined features. "Hey, don't cry, please don't cry," Yuta wrapped his arms around you, quietly hushing you and you buried your face in his neck.

"I missed you, so much. When I was in college, I thought I'd never see you again. I couldn't blame anybody, not my parents or yours because they did what they had to do for our sake, and it hurt, not being able to blame anybody," You croaked, the back of your throat tasting bitter. Yuta hummed in response, gently stroking the crown of your head.

"But it's alright now, isn't it? We've found each other again and..." He pulled away and cupped your face. "I believe we both never lost our feelings for one another."

He said it. The truth that you had buried deep down in your heart for a long time, for more than 13 years, had finally been put out there.

"I thought... I thought I was on my own... I thought you didn't know," You whispered. Yuta pressed his forehead against yours, reaching down to hold your hands.

"No, it wasn't just you. But I thought I was on my own too."

You laugh. Fate was such a dumb idea. Separating you two when you were the best of friends, and more than a decade later, reunite the both of you, only to reveal the truth that both of you had kept to yourselves over the years.

"I wish you could stay," You hugged Yuta's waist, feeling a kiss on the top of your head.

"I wish you could come," You heard him say into your ear.

"I promise I'll visit Osaka soon," You reply. He hummed, stepping back and grabbing his luggage.

"I will see you soon, I promise," Yuta says, moving away with his luggage. You nodded, waving to him.

Yuta walked into the departure hall, remembering every single moment he had with you in the last 14 days. He had wished you were there the last 13 years, and he could never tell you all the hard times he had been through. Just as he caught the last glimpse of you, he remembered what he wrote on the lock, and promised himself never to break it.

To y/n who taught me what love and friendship was, you are irreplaceable and nothing in the world could keep me away from you. When I'm done with the important things I have to do in Osaka, I will return for you, and for you only. I loved you for as long as I can remember, and it will stay like this. I promise.

#timetohajima #yuta #yuta fanfic #yuta imagine #yuta one shot #nct yuta #nct one shot #nct imagine #nct scenario #fluff

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