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2manyfandoms2count · 3 years

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You can count on me (I will be there for you)

Penultimate chapter, here we go! Discoveries are made, and they’re not for the best. Hope you enjoy!

Special thanks to the lovely @theanxiouscupcake for helping me figure out the ending :)

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Chapter 8

Ladybug helplessly watches Chat sink out of sight, and she knows he won’t find anything good, wherever he’s headed. It’s less of a gut feeling (what honest person has secret mechanisms lying around their house in fiction, not to mention real life?) than an informed guess based on what she’s holding.

She’d hit the jackpot in Nathalie’s room. The envelopes she found weren’t empty, but they didn’t contain blackmail destined to Ladybug; it was clearly targeted at Hawkmoth and Mayura. Given that they’d all been opened with a paper knife, she doubted that Nathalie had been on the sending end.

The Peacock brooch she’d found in her nightstand, along with Duusuu, had done nothing to help Marinette in her quest for an explanation that could disculpate her.

She knows she's found what she needed, but it really feels like a Pyrrhic victory.

“Chat Noir? Is everything alright?” Max’s voice over the comms snaps her out of her thoughts.

There’s a tense silence as they wait for an answer, which she decides to break after a couple of minutes, for her own sanity.

“So, what did you find?” She asks, eyeing Markov. The robot is holding a USB key, which is unusual, since Max generally uses him directly as a memory source when needed. She doesn’t doubt that he also carries a copy of the data they’ve found, meaning that the information must be very important.

“An annotated digital copy of a Miraculous book, very expensive and regular butterfly orders, Hawkmoth redesign costumes, and elaborate plans to defeat you and Chat Noir.” Her friend enumerates. It all checks out. “Oh, and some music videos starring Hawkmoth.”

“What?” She frowns.

“It’s very disturbing.” Max grimaces.

Her next question is barely formulated in her head when Chat Noir’s voice reaches them. “Guys?”

“Chaton!” She refocuses on him immediately. “Are you alright?”

“I’ve found something.” His voice is strained.

“Don’t move, we’re coming.” She runs towards where the platform had been mere minutes ago, looking around frantically for the trigger mechanism.

Max puts a hand on her shoulder to calm her down. “Could you just tell us how to join you?” He asks.

Chat explains the steps in a monotonous voice that worries Max and Ladybug enough that they decide to ride the elevator together. It’s a little cramped, but the quicker they get to him, the better.

The tube quickly opens and they step out into what looks like an attic in a flutter of white butterfly wings.

Chat Noir has his back to them, his suit looking darker than usual in the backlight. He turns around from the truly impressive window he was looking out from when he hears them, a sad smile pulling at his lips.

“This doesn’t really look like a good guy’s den, does it?” He tries to joke.

“It does look a little suspicious,” she concedes.

“Did Adrien ever tell you his Dad was a lepidopterologist?” Max asks, a butterfly landing on his outstretched hand, as if he’s still trying to find a rational explanation for the situation that doesn't involve Gabriel Agreste being Hawkmoth.

“A what?” Chat looks at him, perplexed.

“A lepidopterologist,” his friend repeats. “Someone who studies butterflies.”

“Nope, I don’t think he has a clue.” He shakes his head and clears his throat. “But anyway, what did you guys find? Anything interesting?”

Ladybug hands him the envelopes and the brooch. His eyes fly over the letters’ contents, his expression indescifrable, while Max repeats his own findings.

“Max, what is the probability that Gabriel and Nathalie are just storing stuff for Hawkmoth and Mayura?” Chat asks gently, folding the letters again and giving them back to her. She sticks them in her yoyo for safe-keeping.

“I’d say about 0,0152%.” Max announces after a couple of seconds.

“That’s not very much.” He grimaces.

“Good thing Adrien didn’t come with us.” Ladybug whispers. “It’s… a lot to take in.”

“Sure is.” He sighs.

“Everyone, there seems to be another shaft here.” Markov interrupts them, flashing a red light to indicate his position in one of the dark corners of the room.

They walk towards him and study their surroundings, Max spotting the associated buttons first. Chat figures that it can’t bring them back to the study; it’s too far away from the first one.

“Multiple levels? What kind of evil lair is this?” Ladybug mutters.

“A professional one, that’s for sure.” Max replies. “Should we check it out?”

Ladybug looks at the time on her bug phone. They’re still doing okay, having been particularly efficient with their search. Or just very lucky that Hawkmoth and Mayura are bad at hiding compromising evidence.

She activates her microphone. “Nino, Kagami?”

“Yes, Marinette?” Kagami’s voice is prompt to reply.

“How are things going?”

“Not too bad, I think. Nino’s keeping Gabriel occupied, and I’m keeping an eye on Nathalie. They don’t seem to be in any rush to leave.”

“That’s good to hear.” She sighs in relief.

“How about you guys? Is Chat okay?”

“Right as rain.” Chat Noir chimes in. “We just have one more thing to investigate and we’ll be back.”

“Okay, cool. Keep us posted!” Kagami replies.

“You too.”

There’s a little static as Chat releases his microphone button.

“Right, so that’s sorted. I’ll go first.” Ladybug states more than she volunteers, calling the lift. She suspects Chat Noir would have liked to lead the way, but he’s a little pale for her liking, and Kwami knows what they’ll find on the other end.

“Are you sure?” He looks at her, contrasting emotions flickering in his eyes. On the one hand, he seems to be relieved that she’s taking charge of the exploration, but on the other hand, she knows he must be worried about her going first.

"You guys will be right down, it’s fine.” She smiles and squeezes his arm lightly, before entering the elevator capsule.

She’s surrounded by darkness for the first part of the journey, but the dim lighting of the lift is oddly comforting; she finds herself thinking that it might relieve Chat Noir’s claustrophobia.

The tube then transitions to transparency, and she’s suddenly looking out onto one of the largest and oddest rooms she’s ever seen, if ‘room’ is even the right word for it. The space looks like some kind of underground church, with its metal nave extending above a body of water and leading to a little garden, centred around a large tubular object. The latter is overseen by a large window that reminds her of the one up in the attic, except the panes are blocked off. It isn’t dark, though; a ray of light shines from above, and dim lights are regularly spaced along the sides of the room.

The elevator doors open and Ladybug steps out unsurely, not daring to venture too far. She feels very small as she waits for Chat Noir and Max, and a little uncomfortable, like she just broke into a sacred place. She untenses a little when they join her.

“What is this place?” Chat Noir lets out a low whistle as he takes in the grandeur of the space.

“It looks like some kind of underground crypt.” Max pushes his glasses back up on his nose. “We’re really not far from the Marais, maybe this was a church that sunk at some stage and was built over?”

Ladybug nods. It seems like a decent explanation.

Chat’s gut twists as he takes a couple of steps forward. He has an awful feeling about what lays at the end of the bridge, yet he’s inexplicably drawn to it. Ladybug and Max follow him carefully as he makes his way towards it.

The tube at the end of the way looks a lot like a coffin, they realise, and as they approach it, they must have triggered some motion detector, for its cover recedes, revealing a seemingly sleeping woman.

And not just any woman.

Emilie Agreste.

She’s dressed in a white suit, a slight smile on her lips, and holds a large bouquet of white and red flowers. She looks so peaceful, so beautiful. So like her portraits. Ladybug half expects her to wake up, green eyes twinkling as she welcomes them.

Next to her, Chat Noir’s breath hitches and his hand extends to touch the glass, a tear rolling down his cheek. It shatters as it lands on the coffin.

“You’re here.” He whispers.

Ladybug shares a look with Max, who encourages her to step forward with a nod. She does, lacing her fingers through Chat’s free hand and giving it a squeeze.

“I didn’t realise you were this close.” Her voice is barely above a murmur as another tear hits the coffin. Anything louder would feel disrespectful. Chat just nods in reply.

From this angle, she realises, Emilie looks just like Adrien; same fine features, same kind smile, same blond hair. She can’t help but understand why it must have been hard for Gabriel Agreste to look his son in the eye, at first.

“Um, guys?” Nino’s voice breaks the silence, making them jump. “I think we’ve maxed out the small talk. Kagami’s trying to hold off Nathalie but Gabe is just openly avoiding me now. Can we give them a bit of a breather?”

“Absolutely not.” Chat’s reply is icy as he angrily wipes his tears with the heel of his hand. “We’ll be right back, just need to call the police. Do not let them out of your sight, especially Gabriel. He might have his Miraculous on him.”

“Oh dude, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine.” He takes a shaky breath. Marinette gives his hand another squeeze and takes her yoyo out. She spots Max taking out his phone out of the corner of her eye and turns towards him slightly, blinking gratefully at him. Chat doesn’t seem to be in the right frame of mind to call the police himself. She calls Rena Rouge.

“LB?” Her friend answers immediately.

“Alya? Are you in my room?”

“Yes, need anything?”

“Could you get the Bee Miraculous in my sewing box, please? I’ll send you the code.”

“Sure. Do you want me to go downstairs and give it to Chloé? Or should I stay put?”

“We’re going to need you downstairs, but make sure no one sees you yet. We need all hands on deck for this.” She takes a deep breath. “And make sure Adrien’s safe for me?”

“Will do.”

She hangs up just as Max calls his transformation.

“There’s a unit on its way here, and another heading for the Château. They’re warning the police officers who are already on site, they’re going to start closing off the exits. They said they’d take the evidence from us over there.” Her friend reports.

“Good.” She says, and she sees Chat Noir nod next to her, eyes still aimed at the coffin. “Let’s go, then.”

Pegasus invokes his powers and jumps through the portal. Chat Noir tears his gaze from Emilie and goes to follow him.

Ladybug holds him back before he can step through. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay, Chaton?”

“I just need to end this once and for all.” He smiles sadly and kisses her forehead tenderly, before taking her hand and helping her through.

He turns around and blows Emilie a last kiss before joining his wife.

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maria-scribbles · 4 years

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glitter + crimson (let’s start a riot)//part four

summary: carmen actually steps foot inside her own house after discovering her daughter isn’t the only teenager living there. the hurricane hurtling toward the island matches the tempest in sailor’s heart as she finally gets some long-overdue words off her chest that her mom isn’t very happy to hear and two friends inch closer and closer to crossing that metaphorical line.

word count: 6.6k+ (oops, i did it again 😅)

ship: jj maybank x oc (sailor flynn)

warnings n stuff: mentions of abuse/neglect, gambling addiction, child abandonment, being kicked out of home, fluff, swearing, underage drinking, flirting, having shitty dads, mentions of weed, star wars, and sailor’s unhealthy addiction to nutella, mention and direct quote of the percy jackson and the olympians series (again), subtle nod to new girl (i love seeing how many references i can make lmao)

a/n: first off, i just want to thank each and every one of you for your likes, reblogs, and especially your wonderful comments! they mean to world to me, seriously ❤ now, here comes the dramaaaaa! we get to dive into sailor’s complicated, turbulent relationship with her mother (sailor, like john b, has a very big, very real fear of being abandoned by people she loves because of her dad) before heading toward the canon timeline of the show. the quote about the sea near the beginning is from jaques cousteau, legendary french naval officer, marine explorer and filmmaker who co-created the aqua-lung and paved the way for modern scuba diving. he also pioneered marine conservation and discovered the wreck of the hmhs britannic, sister ship of the rms titanic! so overall, he was a pretty cool dude and i feel that he’d be a personal hero to ocean-loving sailor (maybe even kiara as well, considering her love of the environment/conservation).

unbetaed as usual so all mistakes are my b.

gif credit to @toesure (who has the most beautiful gifs, ngl)

~Masterlist~

part four: high tide

The sun’s just peeking its rays over the horizon, painting the deep blue sky the softest shades of pink and orange. Calm, steady waves lap against the shore and over Sailor’s bare feet as she stands alone on an empty and desolate beach, the only signs of life coming from the seagulls squawking overhead. The air is thick and sticky with early morning humidity, the type that makes it hard to breathe and frizzes the hell out of her wavy hair, and she can already feel moisture starting to collect on her skin.

Why’s she here again? She can’t remember a reason and come to think of it, she can’t remember exactly how she got here, either. Did she drive? She turns her back to the ocean and its entrancing pull to look for her truck but finds the surf shop is the only thing she can see clearly, the world surrounding it blurred in an incomprehensible mess of color; the sight should’ve caused anxiety to take root in her chest but somehow she finds herself unbothered, relaxed. Somehow, she feels at home.

“The sea, once it casts its spell, holds one in its net of wonder forever.”

Sailor’s head snaps to the left at the sound of a painfully familiar voice. A tall, redheaded man now stands in what was only a few seconds ago an empty space, smiling out over the water with the brilliant colors of the sky reflecting in his green eyes.

“Dad?”

Ryan doesn’t seem to hear the incredulous tone in her voice or even the fact that she spoke at all as he turns to face her and asks a question of his own, “It’s true, don’t you think?”

Of course she does. The sea has had her under its captivating, magnetic spell ever since she first laid eyes on it when she was a toddler, a baby, even. Her parents always said she wanted to spend every waking moment at the beach, combing the sand for shells and staring out at the water, imagining what new discoveries were waiting for her in its depths. Her mouth moves on it’s own as she replies, “You know I do.”

It’s not what she wants to say at all. She wants so badly to yell at him, let out her frustrations and hurt and pain ‘how dare you leave us’ ‘what did I do wrong’ ‘why haven’t you come back yet’ but finds that she can’t form the words. It’s like she’s watching a video, or maybe reliving a memory -oh. It feels like a memory because it is one, she recognizes with a start, of the week before he took off and abandoned them for the very first time, leaving behind a gaping, bleeding wound that neither Sailor nor her mother ever managed to properly stitch back together.

Ryan’s smile widens. “Always got your eyes on the horizon, Starfish. Just like your old man.”

Her heart clenches at the old, familiar nickname that she hasn’t heard in years, like she’s looking at a favorite pair of childhood shoes or an old t-shirt from a family vacation long past and realizing she doesn’t fit in them anymore, that she’s moved on, and surprisingly, it doesn’t sting as much as she thought it would.

“Come on,” Her father says and when he reaches out to her, Sailor finds herself reaching back with a much smaller, eight-year old sized hand that’s swallowed by Ryan’s larger, calloused palm. “Think you can go fifteen feet today?”

“Fifteen? I’m gonna go twenty!” She declares confidently in her most grown-up voice, giggling when her dad beams and hoists her little body up into his arms, the stubble on his face tickling her skin as he plants a kiss on her cheek.

“That’s my girl.”

He runs into the surf, tossing a laughing Sailor into the ocean when it’s waist deep before they wade out, further and further until the sandy floor drops away from their feet and they’re left treading water.

“Ready, Starfish?”

“Ready!”

The sun breaks over the horizon and casts its golden light on the pair, turning their hair an identical shade of fiery red just as they dive below. She has to work harder to keep up with her father’s longer strokes but she does it and reaches the bottom the same time he does; he smiles widely and reaches out to quickly cup her cheek, pride shining clearly in his eyes and she beams back before turning away to scan the floor for any worthy shells. Finding a knobbed whelk a few feet away, she swims over to grab it before pushing off toward the surface, Ryan following close behind. The sun becomes brighter and brighter the closer she gets and just when her head breaks through the waves-

Sailor wakes.

The early morning sun shines across her eyes through the curtains as she stares up at the surfboard above her bed, the very shelf were the whelk from that day still sits, proudly displayed with her other finds. Yawning, she runs her hands over her face and blinks away the last threads of sleep still clinging to her lashes, along with the memory of her dream. Moments like that with her father were rare. Ryan was a blast to be around when he was happy doing something he wanted to do, like diving for shells, hitting up the bowling alley for a few games, or taking his old, beat up boat out into the marsh to fish for hours on end (never something mundane as doing the dishes or folding the laundry, no, those were children’s jobs and being an only kid, those responsibilities fell to Sailor.). Moments like that were when she felt that -naively, foolishly- her dad was actually proud of her, that he wasn’t horribly inconvenienced by her having the audacity to be his daughter, to be born, that maybe he loved her as much as she loved him.

Cold from a sudden shiver that runs through her body, she rolls onto her side to seek out the best human space heater she knows but her arm only finds empty sheets lacking warmth, her hand reaching for someone who’s no longer there. She frowns and sits up, fingers automatically running through her sleep mussed waves in a semi-futile attempt to fix them into something less resembling a bird’s nest. A quick check of the phone she doesn’t remember plugging in to charge reveals its just before 7 in the morning and her confusion over her missing bedmate only grows; JJ’s rarely ever conscious before 9 AM at the absolute earliest and almost never by his own volition unless surfing’s involved. Even Binx is gone from his usual spot at the end of the bed, leaving her truly alone in the tiny room.

On the floor alongside his boots, the backpack she never noticed him having yesterday is still where he dropped it with its zipper open wide, while his phone rests next to hers on the bedside table and Sailor feels an almost embarrassing wave of relief wash over her knowing he’s still here, that he didn’t just up and disappear in the middle of the night, that he stayed (of all the times he’s come to her before, only once did he leave before dawn and, after she’d frantically tracked him down at John B’s place, tears in her eyes and streaming down her face at the thought of him returning to the lion’s den that he called home, he held her close and promised to never do it again.). She pulls herself out of bed and crosses the room to pull on a random hoodie from the closet before pocketing her phone and padding into the hall, the wooden floor cool under her bare feet.

A demanding meow comes from the kitchen followed immediately by a vexed, “Binx, my dude. For the last time, you can’t have this.” JJ’s bright laugh echoes throughout the room when Binx meows again, this one more insistent than the last and the redhead smiles, quietly shuffling forward to lean against the wall. He doesn’t notice, instead holding a finger to his lips as he shushes the cat sitting on the counter beside him, then turns back to whatever he’s doing. “Be quiet, dumbass! You don’t wanna wake your mom up, do you?”

“I don’t know, sounds to me like he might need my help.”

He startles at her teasing voice, nearly dropping the butter knife in his hand as she steps forward and scoops Binx into her arms, pressing a kiss to his fuzzy cheek. “Is mean old J not feeding you, Binxy? That just won’t do!”

He rolls his eyes but the grin tugging the corners of his mouth upward betrays his amusement as he says sarcastically, “Yeah, I’m the bad guy for not giving the brat Nutella. Great.”

With a laugh, Sailor gives the cat another loving scratch behind the ears before gently setting him on the floor and hoisting herself onto the counter beside JJ, her legs swinging back and forth and lightly brushing against his side. “So...you’re up early.” She says, watching him scrape the last bit of Nutella out of the jar and smear it on some toast, another piece already made on the plate at his elbow.

“Yeah, I woke up and couldn’t go back to bed.” He shrugs, tossing the knife in the sink and the empty container into the trash; her stomach does a little flip when he brings his hand to his mouth and licks away the chocolate left behind on his thumb, then continues, “Sorry if I woke you up. I tried to be quiet but that shithead over there wouldn’t shut up.”

He nods his chin in the direction of a lounging Binx, stretched out on the back of the couch in the sun and she shakes her head. “Don’t worry, you didn’t. I-” She shrugs, too, and meets his blue-eyed gaze. “I guess I couldn’t sleep, either.”

“Bad dream?” JJ asks, holding the plate of toast out to her and she takes a piece with a grateful smile as she replies, “I’d call it more of a bittersweet memory.”

They both fall into a comfortable silence while they eat until he suddenly asks another question around a mouthful of breakfast, “About your dad?”

Sailor freezes mid-chew, her father’s green eyes flicking away from her best friend’s face toward the floor as she swallows thickly, her free hand anxiously clenching the fabric of her shorts. After a long, pregnant pause in which they finish their food and he puts the dirty plate in the sink, she finally says softly, “I’m sorry.”

“Huh?”

She apologizes again, staring down at the floor and swinging her legs back and forth, her bare feet hitting the cabinet with dull thuds.

“For what?” His brow furrows in confusion while he takes a step forward to stand between her legs, one hand reaching to hook a finger under her chin and lift her head so he can look her in the eye, the other resting on her knee. “Seriously, help me out here ‘cause I’m confused as fuck.”

“Because I feel guilty, okay?” She starts, eyelids briefly closing as she takes a deep breath before snapping open again and continuing before he can interrupt, “Here I am, getting upset over a stupid dream I had about my gambling addict dad that ditched me when your dad does that,” -she points to his bruised ribs- “and this,” -her palm rests on his cheek, thumb skimming over his scabbed lip- “and God, I just-”

“Whoa, hold up there, Sail.” JJ cuts her off, his free hand joining the other in cupping her face, “Just because your dad never hit you doesn’t mean you don’t have something to be pissed about. He abandoned you, stole your mom’s money, and made you feel like shit! You have a right to be mad as fuck about it.”

“But-”

“But nothing! We’re not having a fucking competition about who has the shittiest dad,” -He smirks devilishly, brushing a wayward red curl off her forehead- “because they both suck major dick. End of story.”

In spite of herself, Sailor snickers as she winds her arms around his neck and pulls him close, resting her head in the crook of his shoulder while his own arms slide around her waist. “We should start a club.” She jokes lightly and feels his snort of laughter against her ear in response.

“‘Shitty Dad Society,’” He declares proudly, “I call being president.”

“Well, I’m your VP! Binx’s our secretary- shit, I’ll be treasurer, too ‘cause I don’t trust you with any type of financial situation at all.”

He laughs again, hand tightening its grip on her waist and she smiles into his neck as he says, “That’s fair. We should make shirts.”

They settle into another comfortable silence after that, both more than happy to relax in the other’s arms and just be. It’s one of her favorite things about..whatever they are, the ease, the contentment, the familiarity felt when they’re together are sentiments she never, ever wants to lose and a thought, an exciting, dangerous thought pops into her head: what if he never has to leave?

“Come live with me.”

“...what?”

Oh, fuck, she just said that out loud, didn’t she? Brain, enter panic mode. The redhead abruptly pulls out of his embrace and buries her already blushing face into shaking hands, closing her eyes tight for good measure, stammering between her fingers, “Nothing, nothing! I said nothing!”

“Pretty sure you said something,” His hands encircle her wrists and gently pull them down to her lap. “And it wasn’t ‘nothing.’”

She stares down at their entwined fingers resting on her thighs, the backs of his hands deliriously warm against her exposed skin and grounding her to this (scary, exciting, vulnerable) moment, and blurts out in a rush, “I said, come live here. With me.”

JJ doesn’t speak, but the way his hands almost imperceptibly tighten their hold on hers -she would’ve missed it if she hadn’t already been looking- compels her to raise her head and meet his eyes; the indescribable depth of the ocean is behind his gaze, as well as the barest hint of pure, brazen hope, and it says everything his mouth won’t.

“Remember yesterday, when you said you don’t know how much more you can take?” She asks. At his tight nod, she weaves her fingers even more intricately with his and admits softly, “Well, I’m not sure how much more I can take, either.”

Sailor’s eyes sweep over the cuts on his face with all the gentleness of a lover, his lip first, followed by the one on his cheekbone before meeting his again. “I can’t...I can’t see you hurt like this anymore.”

Blue stares into green for an insurmountable stretch of time, long enough that she starts to think that she should’ve just kept her big mouth shut, until he finally whispers, “Seriously?”

“J, I’ve never been more serious about something in my entire life. I can’t let him do this to you anymore.” She finishes with a shrug, “My mom’s never here, anyway. It’d be, uh, really nice to not be alone all the time ‘cause as much as I love him, Binx doesn’t count.”

His eyes become stormy at that casual admission of loneliness for just a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment before brightening into their natural blue, the same color of the sky on a clear day as he says simply, “Okay.”

“Seriously?” It’s her turn to ask it now and the smile that breaks over her face when he nods is one of unabashed relief; without thinking, she leans closer and presses her forehead to his. “Good.”

He smiles, too, and briefly lets his eyes fall shut at the contact as he jokes, “Just so you know, Flynn, I’m probably not gonna be the best roommate.”

“Please,” She giggles, freeing one of her hands to playfully push at his shoulder, “I live with the most spoiled, demanding cat in the world. I think I can handle you, Maybank.”

The teasing smirk on his face makes her heart beat a little faster. “We’ll see about that.”

Sailor decides to pretend she didn’t hear his loaded comment (she’s not quite ready to open up that particular can of worms just yet), instead pulling her phone from her hoodie pocket to check the time. “Alright, here’s the deal: in one,” -she glances at the time again because holy shit does she have the short-term memory of a fucking chimp- “two hours, we’re going shopping and, hey, don’t give me that look!” She laughs at the pained expression that crosses his face, “If you’re gonna live here, get ready to put in the work.”

JJ offers her a lazy salute with his free hand and she rolls her eyes, trying her best to ignore the butterflies in her stomach as he says coyly (again, damn him!), “Yes, ma’am.”

“Until then, though,” The redhead continues, hopping off the counter to grab his hand and starts pulling him toward the hall to her room, “We have a book to read and you have some Greek to mispronounce.”

“Fuck, you’re bossy.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it.”

It goes like this: for nearly three weeks, life for the pair is pretty damn good. The summer days pass the same as they had been, either spent lazing around with the rest of the pogues or working their variety of jobs -Sailor at the ice cream parlor, along with her weekly shell dives and the beginner surf classes she teaches for The Sandbar, JJ at the country club and doing whatever odd jobs he can find around the island- as June slowly bleeds into July. They find themselves doing everything together: shopping, cooking dinner, sharing her tiny room, and it’s so painfully domestic, so natural and so right that it hurts to wrap her head around it.

If their friends notice, none of them comment on it, even though she sees the looks sent their way whenever they both hop out of Sailor’s truck together (most are curtesy of eagle-eyed Kiara, but Pope and even the ever oblivious John B raise their eyebrows a few times). At night they continue to read through the Percy Jackson series, taking turns reading aloud each evening and for a short, blissful time, they let go of the burdens weighing heavy on their shoulders. For a while, everything is close to perfect.

Typically, predictably, it doesn’t last and when shit finally hits the fan, it happens in epic fashion because nothing is ever easy when they’re involved.

It happens a few days after the Fourth of July. It’s late-afternoon, Hurricane Agatha brewing off the coast causing the clouds to streak faster through the sky and, with the rest of their friends working or otherwise occupied, the two teenagers decide to spend a day lounging at home, getting in a few more chapters of The Battle of the Labyrinth and drinking the beer left over from a night of partying at John B’s house.

“’Jumping out a window five hundred feet above ground is not usually my idea of fun,’“ Sailor reads as she relaxes on the couch, book in one hand and can of PBR in the other, the wind blowing in through the open window ruffling her hair, “‘Especially when I’m wearing bronze wings and flapping my arms like a duck.’“

“I’ll drink to that,” JJ says, briefly lifting his head from her lap to chug the rest of his beer before settling back down, feet propped up on the couch’s arm. They’re both a little buzzed, having lost count of how many drinks they’ve downed but she’s had enough to make her start giggling at his comment as she struggles to keep reading while Binx, fed up with the noise, jumps down from his spot behind her and slinks down the hall to find some peace and quiet.

“Damn you, stop it!” She laughs harder as he pulls a ridiculous face at her pronunciation of Daedalus, then shoots her an impish grin and she responds by ‘accidentally’ dropping the paperback on his face. Both are so caught up in hysterics that they don’t notice the sound of a car pulling into the driveway or a key unlocking the front door.

“Sailor!”

The girl freezes at her name, green eyes widening at the sharp tone of her mother’s voice. Slowly, she turns her head to look over her shoulder where she stands, arms crossed, and she’s so shocked Carmen’s actually looking her in the eye that nothing comes out of her open mouth but an oh so eloquent “huh?”

“What the hell is going on here?” The older woman demands, moving around the couch before either teenager can react, and her eyes narrow when she catches sight of JJ’s head on her daughter’s thigh and the empty beer cans on the end table. “Are you two drunk? Get up, now.”

He hastily does as she asks, eyes downcast to the floor and shaking hands clenched at his sides; ignoring her mother’s glare, Sailor deliberately reaches over and rests one palm on top of his as she says tightly, “Nice to see you home for once, I’m surprised you remembered where it is.”

It’s a low blow and she knows it but she can’t find it in her fuzzy, alcohol-numbed brain to care when Carmen reels back like she’s been slapped before she seems to compose herself, mouth pressing into a thin line. “Sailor Giselle, don’t you dare talk to your mother like that!”

The redhead feels something inside her snap and she glares up at the only parent she has left, all but spitting her next words, “Then start acting like my mother! This is the first time I’ve seen you here in four months!”

“I had to come home after Rachel told me you were shacking up with some boy! Do you have any idea-”

“Rachel?!” Sailor explodes at the mention of their obnoxiously invasive old biddy of a neighbor whose sole mission in life is knowing everyone’s business, “God, that hag just can’t keep her nose out of anything can she?”

Carmen crosses her arms once again and glowers at her daughter. “You know how hard it is for me to be in here, Sailor. I asked her to keep an eye on you for me and I’m glad I did.”

The teenager stares at her in disbelief before barking a loud, humorless laugh. “Let me get this straight: you asked our neighbor to spy on me so you didn’t have to come home...so you didn’t have to actually put in some effort?” Carmen opens her mouth to defend herself but before any words can come out, Sailor continues, throwing her free hand in the air, “You’ve got to be shitting me.”

“This is my house!” Her mother thunders, not noticing the way the silent blond boy flinches at her yell and how her daughter tightens her grip on his hand. “This is my house and I can do whatever I damn well please, including having someone look out for you when I can’t.”

“When you won’t, you mean.” She scoffs, shaking her head in thinly-veiled disgust, “I’m doing just fine on my own, no thanks to you, Mom.”

“Does ‘doing just fine’ mean living alone with this kid?” Carmen spits and when she glances at JJ like he’s gum on the bottom of her shoe, Sailor’s finally had enough and takes a step toward the older woman with a furious glare.

“Will you just let that go? God! He’s my best friend and he needed somewhere to stay, that’s it!”

“I don’t care.” Turning to JJ, she demands coldly, “Go pack your shit and get out.”

“No.” Green eyes hardening into chips of emerald, the redhead grabs his other hand as he goes to leave the room and steps in front of him protectively. “He’s not going anywhere.”

Carmen pinches the bridge of her nose, her voice low as she threatens, “I swear to God, Sailor, either he leaves or I’ll make him leave.”

When she feels his whole body go rigid behind her, she knows her mom’s won this particular battle and before she can even turn to face him he’s disappeared down the hall to her room without a word. Sailor whirls to face her like the wind outside, red hair flying over her shoulder like a whip as she seethes, “How dare you.”

The older woman sighs like she’s the one hurting and crosses to the window before closing it with a firm hand. “Drop it, I’m done arguing.”

“I care about him, Mom, you can’t just kick him out!”

“I said drop it! I don’t give a shit how you feel about him, I’m not having your homeless boyfriend mooching-”

“Jesus Christ -his dad beats the shit out of him!”

The words ring out like a bell, loud and clear and impossible to ignore. Carmen freezes in the middle of picking up a discarded can, tan skin turning pale as she stares, mouth slightly agape, at her daughter; the girl stares back unflinching, and despite her heart’s rapid staccato in her chest, her next words cut like a knife.

“He’s not homeless, okay? But his dad hits him, all the damn time. You’re not gonna stand by and let that happen, are you?”

Her mother’s eyes soften -for a fleeting moment, she looks like her old, caring self again- before they harden to steel, the open expression on her face slamming closed with all the force of a screen door in a hurricane.

“I’m sorry -really, I am- but that’s not my problem.”

Sailor flinches at the icy edge in her voice and looks down at the floor, jaw clenched tight as she tries to blink away the sudden burning behind her eyes. “I...I don’t know you anymore. My mother would never say that.”

She hears Carmen heave another deep sigh as her footsteps slowly head toward the front entry, “You and I have a lot to talk about when I get back from work, Sailor.” She says, followed by the snatching of keys and the door handle turning. “And that boy had better be gone when I do.”

The redhead looks up from her feet, watching the door slam behind her mother’s retreating form before hastily making her way down the hall to her room and like that morning, the wave of relief that she feels when she sees JJ still sitting on her bed, realizing he’s still here, is downright embarrassing but she’s well past the point of caring. In a flash, Sailor’s in his arms, face pressed against his neck as she cries, “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry.”

“Sail, you’ve gotta stop apologizing for things you can’t control.” He whispers when she eventually falls silent and she can’t stop the rough laughter bubbling in her chest, even as her whole world feels like it’s falling apart around her.

“Sorry.”

His own laugh is short and low in her ear, and then he’s pulling her closer as his hand draws soothing circles on her back. She lets herself relax for a brief moment, eyelids fluttering closed at his touch, before she takes a deep breath and pulls back to look him in the eye, hands carelessly wiping away the tears on her cheeks, “Help me pack.”

“...what?”

“When she kicked you out, she kicked me out, too.” She says matter-of-factly at JJ’s confused look while she abruptly kneels, pulling her old suitcase from under the bed and heaving it up onto the mattress.

“Okay, so she didn’t actually kick me out but she might as well have!” The redhead strides to her closet and starts picking out her favorite clothes, tossing them haphazardly onto the bed as she fumes, “God, I even told her about your dad -I’m sorry, shit I did it again- and she said she didn’t care! Not to mention she had our neighbor spy-”

“Sail!” She’s so caught up in her rant that she doesn’t notice when JJ moves to stand beside her, and only when he puts his hands on her shoulders does she stop short, a Kildare County High School sweatshirt dangling from her fingers; she can feel him watching her and when she flicks her gaze up to meet his, she’s not at all prepared for the tempest of emotions -admiration, pride, empathy, something else she can’t name- all crashing like the surf behind his eyes.

Blue. Oh so blue. It’s been her favorite color ever since she knew what colors were and she thinks her favorite shade has to be the one she finds in his eyes: bright, clear, and ever easy to drown in if she’s not careful.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” He says it in such a casual way that it’s impossible to think it’s not as intentional as the fingers that slowly tuck a stray curl behind her ear and the thumb that brushes along her flushed cheek.

She just shakes her head with a tiny, bashful smile and her words are an echo of a quiet, rainy night all those weeks ago, “I’m just doing what feels right.”

They fall into an easy rhythm after that, one that helps them both sober up as they fill her suitcase to the brim with everything Sailor thinks she’ll need for a long stay, wherever she ends up. The Chateau makes the most sense of course, but with the DCS breathing down John B’s neck recently, she’s not sure how viable of an option that is but there’s one thing she knows for sure: there’s no way in hell she’s coming back here any time soon. It hurts to leave her shell collection behind -for a brief, dark moment she toys with the idea of tearing the shelf down and smashing them all until they’re turned to dust but she pushes that thought away- so she takes her favorite, the lightning whelk that reminds her of JJ and that day on the beach, and gently tucks it away in her backpack to ease the sting, as a promise to one day return for the rest.

“Jackpot!” JJ exclaims and she looks up to find him on the floor by her chair, pulling up the loose wood board that hides her secret stash of booze and money and reaching in to snag a nearly full bottle of Jack Daniels, holding it above his head with a triumphant smile.

“Shit, I forgot that was even in there,” She replies as she kneels beside him and snatches the whiskey from his hand before he can take a swig, slipping it into her backpack, “Not yet.”

“Oh, come on,” He laughs when she rolls her eyes at his pout and reaches into the dark space to pull out an old plastic lunchbox, along with a small flask that gets thrown in her bag without a second glance. “Boooo.”

“Patience,” She teases, opening the cracked lid to take all of the cash inside and stuffs it into the ziploc bag that doubles as a purse (“it’s cheap and waterproof, what more do I need?” was her argument when Kiara asked her why she didn’t have an actual handbag), which she then stuffs in her backpack. “We can get drunk after we get out of here.”

“You had me at ‘drunk,’“ He slides the floorboard back into place after Sailor tosses the empty lunchbox inside and then stands, pulling her up alongside him with his hand in hers, the other reaching out to grab the handle of her suitcase. “Ready when you are.”

The redhead takes one last look around her room, from the assortment of shells and pictures on one wall to her poster of Bethany Hamilton on the other and everything in between -her sanctuary for the longest time- before turning away from the familiar comfort of the old to face the enticing uncertainty of the new. “Let’s go.”

After a quick stop in the bathroom to grab her shampoo, conditioner, and toothbrush -no way in hell is she gonna share any of those with the boys- then the kitchen to grab some food for Binx and the cat himself from the back of the couch (surprisingly, he doesn’t put up much of a fight), they head outside and throw her suitcase and their backpacks in the bed of the truck along with her surfboard.

“John B’s probably gonna be pissed about the cat,” JJ says, leaning against the passenger door with his arms crossed, smirking as she gives him a flat look and unceremoniously dumps Binx onto the bench seat through the driver’s side window.

“Well, John B’s just gonna -stay, Binxy!- have to get used to it. I’m not leaving him behind.”

Across the street, Rachel perches on her porch as she watches the two teenagers with her beady little eyes and Sailor, feeling particularly defiant, grins wickedly. “J, watch this.” Waving to the woman to catch her attention she calls over the wind, “Hey, Rachel!” before slowly extending both middle fingers toward her, one at a time. “That one’s for my mom and this one’s for you, you nosy bitch!”

He instantly joins in and both hold their hands high, cackling with laughter, until the old crone scowls and slithers back into her house like the snake she is. “Good riddance,” the redhead says, opening the truck’s door and sliding behind the wheel, “Let’s blow this joint.”

“Joint?” JJ asks, climbing into the passenger seat and slamming the door behind him, Binx instantly curling up on his lap, “Did you say joint?”

“You and weed, I swear...” She laughs and goes to start the engine before she realizes she’s grasping at an empty ignition and lets her head fall against the steering wheel with a thunk, “Son of a bitch, I forgot my keys. I’ll be right back.”

Going back inside isn’t as hard as Sailor thought it would be, but leaving is a whole other ball game. She snatches her keys from the bathroom sink where she left them and heads back toward the front door; she’s just passing by their family portrait when it hits her: this is it, the last time in who knows how long she’ll be here. It’s now or never. She thinks of it as a weight on her shoulders, one that’s been dragging her down for far too long, like Atlas holding up the sky, but unlike him, she’s going to break the chains and set herself free.

In one final, sudden burst of years of anger and hurt and frustration, she rips the picture from the hook and smashes it to the floor, sending pieces of glass and wood skittering down the hall before striding from the house and all its memories without a backwards glance, slamming the door behind her with a resolute bang.

Surprisingly, John B doesn’t give a shit about the cat when they show up at the Chateau but he does give a shit about Sailor and her well-being after they give him a quick rundown of the afternoon’s happenings.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Sail?” He asks as he and JJ carry her bags into the house and deposit them in the spare room, the redhead trailing behind with Binx in her arms.

“That’s the age old question, bro,” She deflects with a shrug, taking a seat on the bed and setting the cat down beside her; he instantly takes off to explore his new home as she continues, “Who actually knows if they’re okay? What’s okay to one person can be completely different to another-”

“Sailor, seriously.”

She glances back and forth between the two boys -two sweet, caring boys- watching her with twin looks of understanding and relents. “Look, I’m still kind of...processing everything, alright? I’m not exactly sure what I’m feeling and I don’t know how long it’s gonna take for me to find out but I promise you,” She says softly, looking them both in the eye, “I’ll let you know if I’m not okay. Deal?”

JJ shoots her an enthusiastic thumbs up while John B opts for a simple nod and she grins before pulling the bottle of Jack Daniels from her backpack with a flourish. “Good. Now, I think we could all use a drink.”

The trio (and Binx, house thoroughly explored) bums around the living room while the afternoon slowly turns to evening, the wind outside getting worse with each passing hour the storm moves closer, passing the bottle back and forth until none of them are anywhere close to sober. What started as a game of truth or dare quickly dissolves into straight up truth as they get remarkably philosophical about what animal they’d want to be (an eagle for John B, a wolf for JJ, and to absolutely no one’s surprise, a dolphin for Sailor) and then have a deep, animated discussion about the best Star Wars movie and why it’s The Empire Strikes Back. Later, when the whiskey’s down to a few sips left and their collective demons have retreated to the very back of their minds, JJ drunkenly suggests playing strip poker and both Sailor and John B have to remind him that none of them a.) know how to play poker or b.) even own a deck of cards.

“Damn it!” The sly grin falls from his face when he realizes they’re right and he dejectedly sinks back into the couch, head coming to rest on the redhead’s shoulder. “I wanna see you take your clothes off, Flynn.”

She laughs loudly and grabs the bottle from his hand before taking a big sip and passing it to John B. “You’re gonna have to try harder than that, Maybank.” Whiskey, she found out few months ago, hits her hard: her filter? Gone. Blushing? Aside from the flush in her cheeks from the alcohol, gone. Self-consciousness? As long gone as her father. She’ll flirt her heart out without giving a single shit and it’s both a blessing and a curse, as well as an endless source of secondhand embarrassment in the morning.

“That’s okay, you know I like a challenge.” He declares with a wink, cracking up when she plants her hand directly on his face and pushes him off her shoulder as John B snorts and downs the last of the liquor without either of them noticing.

“Jesus, get a room,” He uses the empty bottle to point down the hall, then sets it on the side table with a hollow thunk as he leans back and stretches his arms above his head. “There’s one right there.”

Sailor gives him a swift kick in the shin with her bare foot for that, plus the shit-eating grin on his face. The trio lounges around for a little while longer, relaxing in a whiskey-induced haze; the redhead finds herself nodding off every so often, slipping back further and further until her head finds a place to rest on JJ’s lap and her legs end up on John B’s. The feel of fingers running through her hair is so feather light that she can barely keep her eyes open and before she knows it, she’s down for the count.

When she wakes some indefinite amount of time later the room is dark, the only light coming from the moon shining through the windows and John B’s gone from his spot by her feet, Binx curled up in a ball on the cushion instead. JJ’s dead asleep, hand stalled in her curls and the sight of his head tipped back against the couch with his mouth slightly open is so damn endearing that she can’t help but smile, even as she reaches a hand up to gently shake his shoulder.

“J, wake up.”

“Five more minutes.” He groans, free hand sluggishly pushing her arm away. Sailor sits up and swivels to face him before shaking him again, giggling quietly at the way his head lolls from side to side.

“Come on, the bed’s way comfier than this.”

Sleepy blue eyes open to give her a heavy look that screams both gratification and longing and so much hope as he quips, “You just want me in your bed again, don’t you?”

She reverently rolls her eyes but reaches to grab his hands anyway and pulls him to his feet, both swaying in place before they find their balance. “And if I do?”

The corner of his mouth rises in a small, adorable smile as his fingers entwine with hers. “I’d say that’s right where I want to be.”

“Well, you’re in luck ‘cause that’s where I want you to be, too.” Still a little bit tipsy, her words are honest, sincere, and as she leads him down the hall, she realizes that old saying is true: drunk words are sober thoughts. After three weeks sharing a home, a room, a bed, she just doesn’t think she can sleep without him anymore and that belief doesn’t quite scare her as much as she thought it would.

Lying wrapped up in his arms in the dark, Sailor finds herself dreaming of a future -as much of a future an impoverished, quasi-homeless, not-quite alright, not-quite-seventeen year old can dream of- with the damaged boy that holds oceans in his eyes.

A few miles away, Carmen Flynn sits on her daughter’s bed with a broken picture frame in her hands as she cries, all alone in an empty house with no idea how to make things okay again.

let me know what you think! also, fun fact: sailor compares her short-term memory to a chimp because studies have shown that chimpanzees are the absolute worst at remembering things, not goldfish as we previously thought (they can remember things for at least five months, compared to chimps who, despite their similarities to humans, forget things in about twenty seconds). sailor, being a zoology nerd, would definitely find that fascinating and make it her mission to educate the masses that goldfish aren’t that stupid jj finds it both adorable and kind of hot

taglist ❤: @sinkbeneathwaves @jiaraendgame @hmsjiara @obxsummer @maysbanks @alexa-playafricabytoto @sunflowerbecca @obxlife @obx-adventures @sexualparkour @coltonparayyko @miawantsapuppy @jjmaybanky @ethereallust

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redgillan · 5 years

Text

Missed Chances - Part 7

Steve Rogers x Reader ♀️ [// Bucky Barnes x Reader for now]

Summary: 13 Going on 30!AU - Steve Rogers is crazy about you, but he’s afraid his feelings are only one sided and being one of your best friends, he doesn’t want to ruin your friendship… On his 13th birthday, he makes a wish and wakes up in the body of his 30 year old self. The problem is, you’re no longer a part of his life.

Word Count: 3,005

Warnings: The creep is back

A/N: No, this series isn’t dead. In this chapter the reader and Steve discuss her wedding dress and I really wanted to give you a dress you could picture in your heads. So that meant doing a lot of research to find a cut that would flatter all body types and a colour that would look good on all skin tones. It kind of smothered my muse, hence the long break. I hope you enjoy this :’)

“You fell asleep on his couch,” Sam repeated, shaking his head with a bewildered look on his face. A second later, he began laughing hysterically.

Bucky looked around the bar, smiling awkwardly at the patrons who were staring at them. With a cringe, he took a large gulp of his lukewarm beer. Sam expertly dodged the peanut Bucky threw at him.

“Okay, let me get this straight.” Sam stopped laughing. “You drank two bottles of fancy-ass wine, passed out on the couch and let your girl alone with a super-hot billionaire.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much what happened,” Bucky grumbled.

“You’re an idiot.”

Bucky couldn’t help but agree with him.

Sam was Bucky’s only friend. They had met a few years ago when Bucky was a rotisseur, a chef in charge of roasted meats. Sam kept sending his dish back, saying it wasn’t properly cooked, until Bucky had enough and served him raw lamb with a little note that said ‘cook it yourself’.

It hadn’t been professional, but it had made him feel a lot better. Somehow they became friends after that. Go figure...

“You could have married her three years ago,” Sam continued with a pointed look.

“A City Hall wedding?” Bucky scoffed. “No, she deserves better than that.”

Sam frowned at him. “You need to get off your high horse, man. I got married at City Hall. Granted it’s less flamboyant than a fairy tale wedding, but it doesn’t matter when you’re in love. You only need each other.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “I work 12 hours a day, six days a week, Sam. We rarely see each other and we live in a crappy studio apartment. The least I can do is give her a perfect wedding.”

“Whatever you say,” Sam shrugged. He was tired of having the same conversation again and again. “That deal you made with her company... I told you it was too good to be true.”

“You said it was legit,” Bucky reminded him.

“Yeah, it is, but I don't think you've thought this through. They offered to pay for your wedding if Steve Rogers agreed to create your girl’s wedding dress. Rogers said yes, and now their numbers are going up-”

“But it’s a good thing. She’ll keep her job and we’ll get married,” Bucky interrupted him.

“Dude, there’s a billboard in Times Square with your face on it,” Sam continued, undeterred. Bucky whined, he had seen the ad. It wasn’t exactly low-key. “You three are everywhere; Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Youtube... Rogers gave interviews to Good Morning America, Fallon and Ellen. The entire country knows about you, your fiancée and your former childhood best friend turned superstar.”

“You’re right, it’s a little crazy right now,” Bucky admitted. “But it won’t last. People will find a better story. She’s happy. That’s all that matters.”

Sam could have argued that you didn’t look happy the last time he saw you. In fact, you looked tired, stressed and a little disappointed. But he knew better than to tell a man he couldn’t make his girlfriend happy.

“I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

Bucky had no idea what he was doing. Things had been crazy lately, and he couldn’t deny that it was strange to share his thoughts and memories with complete strangers. It was part of the deal. Nothing was private anymore.

“A girl asked for my autograph yesterday,” Bucky revealed, a small smile on his lips. Sam raised a brow at that. “It took me completely by surprise, I just wrote ‘BUCKY’ in capital letters on a blank piece of paper.”

Sam choked on his beer, and coughed several times as the liquid fizzed out of his nose. Bucky pushed a napkin across the bar as Sam’s whole face scrunched up in a mix of pain and laughter.

“That fucking hurts,” Sam said, his eyes shiny with tears. Bucky looked strangely proud of himself. “You’re gonna kill me one day.”

With a mouthful of beer, Bucky got off the stool and threw two twenties on the counter. He took his jacket from the bar and made a show of crossing his fingers at Sam’s comment.

“Ass,” Sam countered, following him out of the bar.

Today was the day, your first Bridal appointment. You were beyond nervous, and the fact that this was all business wasn’t helping your nerves. Natasha was sitting next to you, typing away on her tablet while on the phone with Nick Fury. You wished you were that good at multitasking.

Things were moving fast. Natasha had already booked a band, and hired a photographer and a videographer. You were on board with everything, and even pitched the idea of a karaoke entertainment at the reception. She called you a genius and wrote it in her little notebook.

The magazine was thriving, the numbers growing. The first article they published was an exclusive interview of Steve Rogers and a little interview of you and Bucky –to get to know the happy couple.

The following month they revealed that the ceremony would take place at Bucky’s childhood home. It was something you had both agreed upon a long time ago, and Nick thought it matched the whole reunion theme.

Sometimes it felt like it was more their wedding than yours, but you thought I’d be rude to complain since they were paying for the entire ceremony.

“M. Rogers will see you now,” Steve’s assistant appeared before you, pulling you out of your thoughts.

Natasha waved Scott closer. He was standing near the elevator, FaceTiming with his daughter. He saw Natasha, nodded, and quickly wrapped up his conversation. The three of you followed the assistant to Steve’s office.

As soon as Natasha stepped into his office, she began directing everyone into position. Scott and you got so used to being bossed around that you both complied without question.

“Boys, move the couch closer to the window,” she said, looking around the office. “I prefer natural light for the pictures.” Then she turned to you. “This place is a mess, let’s tidy up.”

Steve grumbled something under his breath that made Scott laugh. Natasha gave him a sharp look and they both returned to their task. Once the place looked decent enough, you took a seat on the sofa next to Steve.

Natasha was telling Scott what to do –the kind of pictures she wanted for the Instagram, Twitter and Facebook as well as some pictures for the next article. Scott nodded while he adjusted the camera settings.

“Is she always like this?” Steve whispered in your ear.

A shiver ran down your spine. “Yes, she’s the boss,” you replied with a small laugh.

“She’s scary.”

You were both laughing quietly when you heard the sound of a camera shutter. Steve shifted awkwardly as he met your gaze, his face flushed red. You understood his discomfort.

“A little warning would have been nice,” you told your co-workers.

“Sorry, but the picture looks great,” Scott said, giving you a thumbs up.

“All right, we only have an hour so listen carefully,” Natasha began. “We’re going to take a few pictures and two can pretend you’re working on the dress. Act natural, but don’t forget to smile and don’t look at us. Then we’ll leave you two alone so you can start working on the dress. Questions?”

You both shook your heads. “No, we’re good.”

“Perfect,” she clapped her hands once, “let’s get to work!”

It was a little strange to pose without making it look like you were posing. Natasha was shouting directions at you and Steve while you tried to smile at each other.

Sit straight!

Steve, you’re hiding her face.

Hold that position, the light is perfect.

Finally, after twenty agonizing minutes, she announced that she had everything she needed. You sent up a silent prayer when she left the room. Scott packed up his camera and hurried out of the room when Natasha called out his name.

You slumped back against the sofa and sighed. Steve let out a small laugh as he sank into the cushions. He turned his head to look at you and smiled.

His smile caught you off guard. In that moment, he looked exactly like the boy you used to love and it made your chest tighten painfully. Life could be so cruel sometimes.

“We should probably start working on your dress,” he said, sensing your sudden anguish. He straightened up and fiddled with the sketch pad and mechanical pencil, giving you some time to pull yourself together. “So, do you have an idea of what you’re looking for?”

You sat on the edge of your seat. “Not really. I don’t know how these things work. How are we going to do this?”

Steve was only thirteen, though he looked like he was in his early thirties. He didn’t know anything about fashion, but it was his job and he had to do it right. He had gathered as much information as he possible on Bridal appointments. Internet, so helpful!

“We can look at some wedding dresses,” he told you, sliding a few magazines toward you. “Tell me what you like and I’ll make a sketch. Then my team will make a muslin. It’s just a mock-up. We’ll add the details later. How does that sound?”

He caught your eyes and saw the look of relief on your face. “Sounds great.”

You slowly flipped through the pages of the first magazine, pausing occasionally to show him what you didn’t like. You didn’t want to wear a crinoline, it made the skirt too poofy. The princess style looked beautiful on these models but you didn’t think it matched your personality, and it seemed really unpractical.

Steve listened carefully, jotting down notes in his notebook. “How do you feel about a mermaid-style dress? Remember when your mom took us to the open air theatre? We saw the Little Mermaid and you said it was the best movie you’d ever seen.”

“Yeah.” You giggled. “We were what? Nine, ten years old?”

“Something like that,” Steve replied with a fond smile.

“Well, I hate to disappoint my nine-year-old self, but I think I’d prefer something a little more like the Muses in Hercules.” You turned the page, only to be distracted by a stunning gown. “Like this one!”

The dress fit closely, hugging the model’s curves in an elegant yet sensual way. It looked right out of a peplum movie.

“Oh yeah, that’s a um...” Steve closed his eyes shut and tried to remember the name of this particular type of dress. “It’s a sheath column dress!” he exclaimed with a huge triumphant smile.

“I like that,” you said, oblivious to his sudden outburst. “Do you think it’d look good on me?”

“Absolutely,” he said a little too quickly, then he cleared his throat and gave you a sheepish smile. “We have your measurements, it will look perfect.”

You made some modifications to the dress in the magazine. With Steve’s help, you chose a boat neckline instead of the heart shape neckline featured on the model.

You hesitated between two colours; alabaster which according to Steve would look good on anyone, and diamond white which was the perfect colour for an outdoor wedding.

“Silk is a good choice,” Steve approved while he finished his sketch. “You might be a little cold though, but we’ll figure something out.”

“Oh, don’t bother,” you said with a wave of your hand, “Natasha has already ordered ten outdoor heaters. It’ll feel like we’re on a tropical island.” Your laughter died in your throat when Steve showed you what your dress would look like. “Steve... that’s.... wow.”

He looked at his drawing with furrowed brows. “I think I messed up the proportions but-”

“It’s gorgeous,” you interrupted him. “I love it!” You took the sketch pad from him to get a better look. This was your dress. Your wedding dress. It all seemed so real now, it made the butterflies in your stomach dance. “So, it’s happening. In six months I’m going to be Mrs Barnes.”

“You can keep your last name,” Steve shrugged. He had been working so hard lately to pass off as a real fashion designer that he had almost forgotten you were going to marry Bucky. He fought against the urge to rip that stupid drawing in half.

“I know,” you said, “it’s just... a little weird, but in a good way.”

A knock at the door made you both jump. Natasha and Scott were back, and judging by the look on Natasha’s face, she must have received some good news.

“We posted that picture of the two of you giggling,” Scott said with a big smile. “People on Instagram are so kinky. You guys should read some of the comments, they’re priceless.”

“Scott,” Natasha said, her tone warning him to drop it.

“It’s crazy, some people even ship you two together. They want you to marry Mr America. That’s his nickname, Mr America! How cool is that?!”

Oh, that couldn’t be good... You really hoped Bucky wouldn’t read these comments. He wasn’t a big fan of social media, and he was too busy to even open the app. Though Sam would definitely call him if he read anything that seemed a little odd.

“Is that the dress?” Natasha asked as she picked up the sketch pad. Her eyes widened for a second before she smiled at Steve. “It’s beautiful. I look forward to seeing it on the bride.”

Steve’s secretary entered the room and informed him that his next appointment had arrived. He shook hands with Natasha and Scott, then turned to you, smiling hesitantly. A handshake seemed too formal, but he wasn’t sure you’d let him hug you.

He opened his arms to you and cocked his head to one side in silent question. You found his bashfulness endearing. He looked so young. You took a step forward to hug him.

“Thank you, Steve, for everything,” you said, making sure Natasha and Scott couldn’t hear you. Steve was warm and muscular, and yet incredibly soft. “You didn’t have to do all this. I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad I found you,” he replied before releasing you. “I’ll see you soon.”

“The magazine’s throwing a party next month,” Natasha began as Steve walked the three of you to the door. “Our numbers are skyrocketing. This calls for a celebration. I’ll send you the details. It’ll be the biggest party of the year.”

When you got back to the waiting room, the secretary told you that Steve’s chauffeur would drive you and your colleagues to your apartments. You took a seat and tried to process what had just happened.

Natasha looked ecstatic, and you couldn’t understand why you felt so miserable. You needed to be alone with your thoughts.

“I’ll be back in a sec,” you told Natasha who nodded distractedly.

The waiting room was nicely furnished with comfortable leather sofas, fashion magazines on the marble tables –your magazine was on top of the pile- and a fancy water dispenser near the restroom.

You grabbed a cup and filled it with room temperature water, sipping it slowly as you looked around the room.

“Braceface!”

You felt a shiver come down your spine, the sound of his voice was like having your entire body dunked into ice cold water. He moved into your line of sight, a bright smile on his face. Had he always looked this terrifying?

“Hi, Brock.”

“So you remember me,” he said with a sickening smile, his tongue sweeping over his bottom lip. “Sweet.” He paused. “I heard you were getting married.”

“Yeah.”

“If you ever get bored,” he said, stepping into your personal space and handing you his business card. “I love married women, they’re so desperate for a good time.”

You felt trapped, like the day he had cornered you in Steve’s kitchen and asked if you wanted to have sex with him. You could feel the fear building up inside you.

You obediently took the card, your body automatically kicking in to self-preservation mode. Do what he says and he’ll leave you alone.

This part of the waiting room was hidden from view, meaning no one could see you right now. Brock had no shame, coming after you like that even though he knew you were getting married.

You wanted to scream, but you couldn’t move.

“Step away from her.”

You couldn’t see her, but Natasha’s voice held authority as she stood behind Brock with a seemingly calm demeanour. Brock took a step back, raising his hands in mock surrender.

“We were just talking,” he said.

She didn’t even spare him a glance. She searched your face for any sign of pain “You okay?” You nodded, not noticing the tear falling down your cheek. “We’re done here.”

She took a step forward and slung her arm around your shoulders, shielding your body with hers as you moved past Brock. You felt your heartbeat slowly returning to normal as Natasha ushered you toward the elevator.

You slowly came back to your senses, feeling a little embarrassed that you were –once again- the damsel in distress.

“That guy’s a dickhead,” Scott said, glaring daggers at Brock’s retreating figure.

“That guy is the co-founder of the brand, and a big name in the fashion industry,” Natasha mumbled, pressing the ground floor button. “He’s also a notorious creep. I’ll make sure we won’t run into him again.”

“You gonna have him whacked?” Scott asked, his eyes widening.

Natasha crunched up her face, clearly grossed out and confused. “No! I’m going to schedule our meetings at a different time. Have him whacked,” she repeated with a scoff. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“It’s just the way you said it,” Scott shrugged, “it sounded ominous.”

The elevator door slid closed while Natasha and Scott were bickering, but you weren’t listening to them. You wanted to go home.

You wanted Bucky to hold you close and snuggle with you for the rest of the day. But, more than anything, you wanted to know why Brock fucking Rumlow was still working with Steve.

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #steve x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagines #bucky barnes imagines #steve rogers fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine #redgillan #redgillanwrites #missed chances

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sometimesimawriter · 5 years

Text

Mirror Effect

Part 7

A/N: I give up but I’m just gonna continue posting this because life is an endless cycle except I’m strapped in the middle of it and screaming. Also I just have the vine of the dude yelling “GET FUCKED” stuck in my head. Thanks, no one reads this!!

The story because fuck me:

It was later in the afternoon, and everyone had reconvened for lunch. Klaus, for once, was silent, sitting at the kitchen table, with Five next to Christina. Diego was helping around with preparing an assortment of sandwiches with Emma and Kayla. Kayla was a little quieter than usual, giving Emma and small smile whenever she attempted to joke around. It felt like what normal looks like. That is, until Brendan ran into the house.

"Is everyone okay? I saw- the news- dead..." he was having trouble catching him breath, he must've ran over to the house.

Christina informed him what had happened, "But we are all fine. Max is sleeping up stairs-"

"Max is WHAT?" He gave Kayla a bewildered look, his eyes saying "Are you crazy?"

Just then, Matthew came strolling in. His face was blank, then he looks around the room, "Well at least a few of us had an interesting morning," then he turned to Kayla, "The asshole has calmed down and feels remorse. I, on the other hand, still don't like him."

Klaus picked up his cup, "I drink to that,"

Five looked lazily to his brother, "There's no alcohol in that."

Klaus gave him a weak smile, "A man can imagine."

Christina got up and moved to where Matthew, Brendan, Kayla, and Emma were huddled around the kitchen island. She then turned to Matthew, "Can you do your thing? Maybe we can find out more about what's going on?"

"I can try."

Everyone was now standing in the infirmary, standing around Max. He was still unconscious, but he had shrank back to his average size- which was still huge, like a football player. Diego and Klaus stood behind the group, and Diego leaned over to his brother, whispering, "You're quiet. It's freaking me out."

Klaus choked out a laugh, "You're not going to believe me."

"Try me."

"I think Kayla's deceased mother possessed me before."

Diego blew out a drawn out breath, and finally said, "Are you high?"

"I wish."

"So... how were you 'possessed'?"

Klaus lazily looked at him, arms crossed, "I got angry while talking to her, said some choice things, all next thing i knew, I couldn't control what I was saying."

"That sounds like normal."

"Dearest brother, I take offense to such proposition. I am extraordinary." His voice held no humor despite his sarcasm. "I said things about her that she had never told me. Talked about her father and her childhood. Turns out her mom doesn't like Big Boy either."

"Huh..."

Meanwhile Matthew stood next to Max's head, staring down at the boy. His gaze was concentrated and contemplative.

Kayla was getting impatient, "Are you gonna do your thing or keep committing his face to memory?"

Matthew closed his eyes in exasperation, "I am having a conversation and you are interrupting. Now please, silence."

Kayla silently mocked him, repeating his words and moving her hands as if they were speaking.

Silence stretched across the room for a few minutes, and finally Matthew pulled away.

"Okay, so what i got is that the blonde was named Amelia. He didn't know the guy. Amelia was real flirty with him at the bar, got him drunk, and that's when you," gesturing at Kayla, "walked in and threw a fit. He got all sad, and she was convenient. They got all buddy-buddy and she introduced him to some pills. He says they made him feel great. When he came down from his high, he knew he needed more. Eventually, the more he took, the more aggressive he felt, but he felt powerful."

Matthew took a deep breath, "I think he was targeted. They knew who he was. Knew how he would react."

Five blew out a long breath and seemed to move closer to Christina, "That's fucked up."

Brendan put his hands on the side of the cot, "Yeah, no shit."

"So what are we going to do now?" Christina looked around to everyone.

Diego then left his spot next to Klaus. "I say that we let the NYPD know. They have a better chance of stopping these steroids from coming in."

Emma spoke up at this, "But they might be targeting us."

He shrugged, "If it was just blondie and Gas Mask, then you shouldn't have anything to worry about. And if there's more of them, then they saw what happened with them outside. It would be stupid of them to continue targeting here."

Kayla looked down at her shoes, and looked between Diego, Five, and Klaus, "So what does this mean for you guys?"

Klaus huffed and looked towards the door, "This means I need a good bar and a drink. Will you be joining me, brothers?"

Diego nodded and started towards the exit. Five looked at Christina and gave her an apologetic look, then headed out with his brothers.

As the trio from across the country turned their backs on the New Jersey supers, they also missed the devastated look Christina made, the murder in Emma's eyes, and Kayla's dejection.

The Hargreeves brothers sat in an Irish pub in downtown Hackensack, debating over their next move. Diego argued to leave, Five argued to stay, and Klaus stayed impassive. Instead, he solemnly drank golden liquid from a tall glass, staring down at the table.

"I just think our work here is done." Diego said, getting more annoyed as the minutes passed.

"And I think we haven't finished the job. We are leaving them defenseless." Five argued back.

"I wouldn't say they're defenseless. You saw the fury drop a man to his death this morning, the crystal chick throws fucking crystals, and Emma can ignite on cue. They can handle this."

Klaus looked at Diego, "Kayla is not a fury."

"And Christina has a name." Five grew defensive.

"Both of you seem very attached to these girls. Why is that? Don't think I didn't notice you didn't sleep in your room the other night, Klaus. And Five, you give Christina the doe eyes whenever she steps into the room."

Five leaned across the table, "And what about you and Emma? You spend an awful lot of time with her. What happened?"

Diego's face grew red with anger, "Nothing fucking happened."

Klaus forced out a laugh, "Diego, Diego, Diego. That's not what it looks like."

Five started to dig into his brother as well, "She's beautiful really. Maybe you could call her hot. I mean, she does tend to ignite. Now that reminds me of someone, doesn't she, Klaus?"

Klaus nodded, and Five continued, "What other woman could she resemble? Maybe your failed love affair with Detective Patch? Is that it? She's too much like your late ex-"

Diego slammed his hands on the table, "Do NOT bring her into this." He paused, taking a few deep breaths. "Fine, I felt something for her. I think she did too... then we did something we shouldn't of."

Klaus looked bewildered, "Did you sleep with her?"

Diego's head fell, "Maybe. Yes. But i realized that we both live different lives. And i got afraid that what i do would come back to her. She doesn't deserve that. I told her that, and she got pissed, walked out of the room on me."

Klaus and Five grew quiet, and then Five spoke up, "Is that why you want to leave so badly?"

Diego silently nodded. "Once i think about it though, I don't want to leave."

Klaus smiled, "Then why are we here? Let's head back and sort things out with our respective ladies..." he trailed off, looking at a TV above Diego's head.

The news reporter stood in front of the Victorian house they had all just left.

"...SWAT has just surrounded the house. A large creature can be seen walking throughout the house. Neighbors called, hearing distressing noises and screams coming from inside. We do not have any information regarding what is happening, but it seems like-" The woman was cut off, as a body was thrown from the third floor window. It crashed onto the front lawn, but then rose to reveal a titanium man- Brendan. He then charged back inside through the front door. "Ladies and gentlemen, it seems as if a metal man is fighting the creature inside- hold on, I am getting a report that that was in fact New Jersey's own Metamorph!"

"Holy shit, I think Razor woke up." Diego stated, rising from the table. "We have to help."

Kayla was now fighting for her life. Soon after the boys had left, Matthew felt Max begin to wake. They all sat around him, waiting for him to open his eyes. Only when they did open, they were bloodshot and he began to grow in size. He easily tore from the restraints, and he instantly threw Matthew across the room, knocking him unconscious. As his body slumped towards the ground, Razor turned to the rest of the group. Brendan grabbed a scalpel and his skin turned to steel. Emma ignited, ready to burn him to a crisp, and Christina flicked her wrists, sliding two crystals into her hands. Kayla stared into Razor's unforgiving face, and felt her wings expand from her back. Her weapon of choice were two golden chains, which she had laced with her own strain of Strychnine- a poison. Ever since they brought Max into the house, she carried the chains with her, where she concealed them under her shirt. The poison didn't affect her, she had a different chemical makeup than most humans.

Razor roared, charging her. Before he could reach her, he caught a crystal in his right bicep, which did nothing to slow him down. Then, a fireball crashed into his side, causing him much pain. He roared again, and turned on Emma. While distracted, Kayla rose up, and flapped her wings, creating a wind force that would have knocked over a large man- except Razor was larger than most men. It unbalanced him sightly, and Brendan took this as opportunity to charge him. He managed to tackle him to the ground, but Razor dug his nails into Brendan's back, and flung him into the window.

The girls then took turns, throwing fire, crystals, and chain lashes at Razor. They were slowly beating him, but he began to heal, the cuts closing at alarming rates. He made a low growling sound that resembled a laugh. He then picked up the cot he was once on, and threw it at Emma, rendering her unconscious. Christina threw more and more crystals, and Razor easily plucked them from his skin. He began to move towards her. Kayla frantically whipped him with the chains, hoping the poison would begin to kick in. Christina began to shape holes in the floor, trapping his feet in the wood. This seemed to anger him more, and he tore through the floor, wood splintering and releasing his leg. He then lunged at her, picking her up by her throat and sending her across the room, but before she could hit the wall, she opened a portal behind her and was sucked into whatever place she was destined to be. Razor turned on Kayla, and she felt was true fear was.

"I've been waiting to do this for a very long time, my Angel."

"I am not your Angel, asshole."

He clicked his tongue, his voice changing, becoming deeper by the moment. He sounded almost demonic, "While I was in that coma, I had some time to think. If you didn't leave me, I don't believe we would have this situation."

Kayla knew she had to keep him talking and buy herself some time, to think of a plan. "I didn't leave you, Max. You were kissing Amelia. What was I supposed to do?"

He laughed, taking a step towards her. "I am a real man, Kayla. I have needs and you were not there to fulfill them. Amelia was. And she made me stronger."

"I thought you didn't like the drugs. The dependency."

He laughed again, "Matthew may be able to read minds, but he cannot tell the truth from a lie. I feel like a god. And you will too once you try it."

Kayla began to step back, "The man, he knocked you out. Doesn't that make you mad?"

Another laugh, he was toying with her. "For a scientist, you are a stupid bitch. That was my idea! Can't you see? These drugs, they are not bad. Try it, and once you finally see my perspective, we could be together again. Happy."

She stretched her wings out further, "Those drugs are not happy. This is not you, Max."

He bared his teeth like an animal, "My name is Razor!" He roared.

He began to charge, but then a knife found its home, right underneath his collarbone. He looked behind Kayla, and Diego, Klaus, and Five stepped into the room.

#the umbrella academy #umbrella academy imagine #umbrella academy fanfiction #klaus hargreeves #the seance #diego hargreeves #number five #five hargreeves #klaus x reader #diego x reader #five x reader #tua imagines #mirror effect

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shadesofjanuaryblues · 5 years

Text

Chiberia

Chicago.

Chicago. One of the greatest cities. THE Windy city.

Also known as Chitown, Chiberia.

I live here. Not directly in the city, but about 30 minutes out west, in the most basic middle class town. It doesn’t fall into the small-town category, but it isn’t a big town either. But basically, you go to the grocery store, and there is a 43% chance of you running into someone you know.

Well, let’s start from the beginning. I’m an immigrant.

I am pure-breed, one hundred percent Lithuanian. Born and raised. Well, I guess, “halfway” raised. I came here when I had just turned thirteen. Straight into the school-year. Eighth grade.

The middle school I went to wasn’t big. Everyone knew everyone. Obviously there were the popular, the “independent” friend groups, and of course, the not-so-popular. But I’m not here to describe the social pyramid of the American school system.

All you have to know, is that I was placed in an ESL class, which was created to help out students who have a hard time with English. This helped me gain two friends, which gave me a little comfort to go through the school day without having to cry in the bathroom during lunchtime. Hell, I was glad to have someone to borrow a notebook from.

Going back to the whole ESL thing: my family stumbled into the office of the school, merely 2 months after moving here, me having absolutely zero English skills and having not formed any because I was only surrounded by my Lithuanian speaking family, we were told that I was not going to be able to repeat 7th grade, and that I was going to be placed straight into the next school year. Of course, our pale flustered faces were accompanied by my second-hand cousin, who had attended that school as well, earlier on. Anyways, they put me in a class - for immigrants. FANTASTIC resource, don’t you say? Except the biggest problem was that my ESL teacher’s second language was not Lithuanian, it was Spanish.

Now you say, “so many people go through these classes, they learn English, like even you, you’ve been here for, what, eight years already? I can’t even tell that you have an accent!”

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Heard it all before. Yeah, truthfully that class did help me. Not to learn English, but to complete my homework. That’s it. Meanwhile I was in an English class learning the same stuff as the other eighth graders were. History? A bunch of foreign words and gibberish. Science? Oh man, don’t even get me started. Even PE? CONSTANTLY hearing shit I did not understand. Like pacer test? Do you know how much nerve it took for me to ask a fellow classmate what the fuck that was and how do I do it? To literally make a fool out of myself with my “broken English”? Even math. Slopes, fractions, functions? I had not even heard of those terms when I got there, and in eighth grade they weren’t learning it anymore, they were perfecting it. So many hours spent by my kitchen table crying.

One advantage American kids had, was that they could ask their parents. I couldn’t.

Well, in other words I did, but they didn’t know.

And the purpose of this whole written rant isn’t for me to shit on Americans. Not at all. It’s for you, the reader to realize or relate to the struggle immigrants have to go through. And many other issues that I’ll cover later, but this would be the first.

Comes the age 15, I had befriended a fellow Lithuanian, a year earlier, who helped me ENORMOUSLY with my English. Not only the formal language, but the slang as well. This friendship was beneficial to us both, because at this point she had been living there for eight years, and having moved here at an earlier age, her Lithuanian was getting rusty.

Anyways, at 15 I started setting up my first bank deals with my parents. In person I would introduce myself as their daughter, the translator. I was learning new banking terms in English and Lithuanian on a weekly basis. By the phone, I talked on behalf of my mother, I mastered the art of lowering my voice and sounding more formal, knew my mother’s social security number by heart before I had even really looked at mine.

By sixteen I was handling most of my family’s bills, loans, car payments. I was answering most of their formal calls. Later that year my parents opened up a trucking company. With the help of some Lithuanian representatives, and myself, the company was running. I went over all of the contracts that were signed in terms of buying a truck, leasing a trailer, safety and all other regulations (not going to get into detail). Then, I got a temporary job at another trucking company in the summer solely to learn how to dispatch.

I had to learn how to dispatch so I could teach my mother. My mom’s English was still very weak at the time and she was scared to go and learn it herself.

In other words I had no choice. I spend my summer mornings waking up crabby as shit, going upstairs to make phone calls with cocky dudes with egos breaking through the roof. “Illinois to Alabama, one pick, one drop. Potatoes. 750 miles, rate 950”. See at that point I was taught to shoot double, then lower it to the most reasonable price. “Where’s the pickup? Loose potatoes? (Requires a paid wash afterwards, therefore rate should always be higher- waste of money and time), I’ll take it for 1500”, “HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHa are you out of your mind, where have you even heard of prices like this? 1000, take it or leave it”.

Approximately 70 calls a day with one successful, if it’s a good day. Sometimes I’d be on that computer for over 10 hours.

My mom learned, she started dispatching, things got a bit easier. I only had to handle the “bigger” things. Claims, detentions and other shit like that. Stressful as hell, burned out most of my patience out by the age of 17.

At seventeen, I started rebelling. I wasn’t happy with my life, but I also felt fucking invincible. By then I had earned a bit of social acknowledgement, I guess everyone saw me as the bitch I was portraying myself to be. Reckless and bad as fuck.

Street racing, going 120 on the highway to the city and back, drinking in the forest in the car. Coordinating who’s throwing a party on what weekend, sneaking out and coming home hammered, only to sleep for a few hours and go about my day like nothing ever happened.

This lasted a whole year, shit more than that. I made a lot of good and bad memories, been places I really shouldn’t have been, but I don’t regret any of it. But guess where I ended up on Halloween night the year I turned 18?

Cuffed to the fucking wall at a police station.

Wow.

Who would’ve thought, what a surprise!

I’m not quite comfortable going into detail in writing, but if you know me then you know the story, and if not, ask me about it in person, I’ll be happy to tell you.

The one thing I want to put on the table is that it wasn’t drug affiliated, and not criminal.

However, I was facing jail time. But hey, I was lucky enough to get those charges dropped, and that was the biggest lesson I could ever have.

From that point on, I went to my court dates, reevaluated my life, and started rebuilding. I had to switch schools, which introduced me to new people, ended up cutting some off, and befriending new ones. Graduated, started going to the local community college. I was working the whole time, trying to make spending money, still helping out my parents with all the financial stuff. In college I was undecided, tried out a couple different options, they didn’t seem to work out.

Not this brings up another issue I have with the way society has been built.

HIGHER EDUCATION.

I ended up picking something I felt I had an interest in, and not what my parents thought would be good for me. I enrolled in the architecture program. I was doing great, I was able to keep my focus, I wanted to improve and was eager to learn new things. Finished off the first semester. Through sweat, sleepless nights, and tears – ended up with all A’s. That significantly brought my GPA up.

By the second semester, I was ready. I was excited, because at this point we were actually starting to be able to create. This had to be my favorite part, because I consider myself relatively creative, I constantly have random ideas flowing in my head. It’s kind of like slight madness.

Anyways, when we started, my architecture program coordinator was teaching one of the classes. By that time I had already formed a professional relationship with her, she was very helpful and gave enormously valuable advice. Every project we did, I put my heart and my soul into. There weren’t any major guidelines, yet I kept being told to simplify my work. I kept being told to change it up, almost so I would blend into the other projects hanging up beside mine. I talked to my professor, she complimented my creativity, she said she hasn’t seen this much creativity and thought in a very long time, yet I still had to change it, and simplify it.

I don’t blame her, or anyone, really, but I felt myself get more and more suppressed. I felt like I had to fit into a basic box that’s been designed by someone else. I accepted it, decided to move forward. Life is all about compromise, isn’t it?

But then, in the middle of my somewhat peaceful life…

….I found out my mom was having an affair.

It’s almost like being practically the head of the family, I finally stepped a couple steps down and within a few blinks everything went to shit.

Wow, I can’t even describe you how I felt, truly broken. Like even worse, I felt like family was ripped out of my hands.

I tend to rely heavily on friends and family, and these two really are the only thing that kept me alive throughout all those years. And just like that, it’s gone.

The day I found out, I had been driving to the mall with my mom. I was putting a song on thru her phone, when a text message came in. I recognized the number, I had asked her about it roughly 4 months ago. She told me it was nothing, just some stupid guy hitting on her, and that she blocked his number. During that car ride, looking out the window I realized that all those evening yoga classes weren’t really even yoga after all. Shit hit me hard. But what I managed to blurt out was “I’m going to pretend I didn’t see this, so that we have one good last day, and I will deal with this tomorrow”.

Fast forward over the next month or so, listening to my mother’s lies, and my dad’s psychosis trying to vent to me, I lost my mind. Actually, this time. I lost it. I dropped out of school after numerous failed attempts to show up. I would park up, get my backpack and tell myself “okay I’m going to go in one minute”, on repeat, until the class ended and I would take my ass back home, shameful and full of hatred. My anxiety and depression peaked at this point. I went to therapy, refused drugs, decided to continue going to therapy until I got somewhat stable. My friends pulled me out of the hole, forcefully, very unpleasantly, but I am eternally grateful for them. Took a very long time to heal, but I healed, I got back up, and I started moving forward.

Shortly after my father found out my mom was having an affair, he switched his life around trying to win her back. I respect him for that, however it didn’t work. The house went on sale. The house got sold. Dad (who is actually my stepdad but has been raising me since I was 3 years old), was moving in with his friend. I didn’t like that friend at all, he was an alcoholic and quite inappropriate at times. Mom? Off with her new husband. Greta with her dog and cat? Choose.

Do I want to live with someone who makes me feel very uncomfortable and is quite unpredictable?

Or do I live with the man who is the reason my family, and my life has fallen apart? Whom I, in fact, fantasized about stabbing at the time?

I said fuck you to them both. Picked up more hours at my two jobs, with the help of my dad, I rented out a 500 square foot studio apartment. I worked a fuck ton, and I mean it. From one job to another in the same day, back and forth thru the week. Paid my bills, dad helped if I came up a few hundred bucks short. My diet consisted of solely the food I could get at the restaurant I was working at. If I worked there only 4 days that week, that means I was only going to be eating those 4 days, the next three, I’d get off my other job, if the time was right I would visit someone and eat what they gave me, if not I’d literally not eat. Cigarettes were expensive and they were my priority.

Slowly my dad got back on his feet, despite his deep depression that he simply wasn’t able to understand. He started out helping out more and more, at this point I was able to save a few bucks for myself. Those bucks were spent mostly on ramen and bottom shelf wine.

A while later, I got promoted at my job. I started being a manager at the restaurant I was working at, and then slowly went into accounting.

Quit my retail job, and have been relying on shifting from manager to waitress for the past 6 months.

I would go into detail about how difficult it is to be put in a higher position as a 21 year old white woman, working with middle age white men, but that’s just a buzzkill. Everyone knows “white men run this shit” and I have a HUUUGE problem with that, but it’s fine. Not going to worry about it.

So why, after all this time, this magical city that I’ve seen my best ant my worst moments in, suddenly makes me sick to my stomach? Why can’t I stand being here?

Is it a bad case of (literally all year long) January blues? Is it all the cold and the gray? Is it all the garbage on the streets?

Downtown Chicago is like a painting you hang up on your wall. “Like, wouldn’t it be cool to be there right now?”, or “okay, this is the building I’m going to live in”. Pure fantasy, baby. You drive to your minimum wage job that you hate, you see the Chicago skyline in between the clouds ahead. All it is – a reminder that you probably will not be able to live on the 92nd floor of that building, no matter how hard you try. Some of us will try our best, but we will not achieve great things. Chances are slim, so we definitely should still try, but prepare for the worst. Life is funny, it will never go the way you want it to.

I type this from my dad’s apartment, which I moved back into, with the hopes of going back to school soon.

A few more things I want to mention while I’m here:

1. Value your family, always. No matter how dirty they do you.

2. It’s okay to hold your life on pause, to fix and reevaluate, as long as you make progress after.

3. Don’t rush to move out of your parents, you will feel lonely. Like really fucking lonely.

4. Don’t max out your new credit cards if you don’t want to be paying the bill (I’m currently still working on this)

5. Yes, these new Nike’s will make you feel like a bad bitch, but you worked 10 hours for this amount of money.

6. Don’t take a fucking 5 year loan out on a car that doesn’t hold value, shit drops value by the minute. Worst thing to ever invest in.

7. Treat your friends to lunch, and make sure they feel appreciated, even if it’s Wendy’s 4 for 4.

8. Last, but not least: don’t fucking litter please.

#chicago #januaryblues #lifelesson #tumblr #immigrant #lithuania #blog #long #text #read #story #biography #anonymous

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yourescapetofiction · 5 years

Text

The Tides Have Turned-Part 7

A/N: This is my old work, The Tides Have Turned. It is a complete story that I am reposting on this blog so the work isn’t lost and can be found for those interested :)

Seven

“Sammy you can’t eat that!!!”

My eyes slowly peeled open to the sound of Johnson’s muffled voice shouting downstairs. I had no coherent thoughts in my brain at the moment, as I let myself wake up. My eyes darted around the sun-filled room. Two beds…Adidas sneakers…boxers? This wasn’t my room. My eyebrows furrowed in confusion as I looked to my right and found a sleeping Nate. His chest moved slowly up and down and I matched my breathing to his rhythm. He was distracting, I shook my head to refocus my thoughts.

I was still in his bed, I never returned to my room. The events of the bonfire were still foggy in my mind, I’m never drinking that much Malibu again. I rubbed my temples at the thought of hooking up with Gilinsky, and now possibly Nate. I felt the bed begin to shift to my right as Nate rolled over where he was facing me. His eyes opened slowly at first, and then shot open when he saw me face to face. I sat up in a rush, hoping we didn’t make a mistake.

“N-Nate, did we…” my voice trails off. He was still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Uh, yeah. We did” he said, his voice groggy but unbelievably sexy. My thoughts clouded with worry, I hope he didn’t regret the events of last night. I suppose it was technically my fault, after all. I crept in here assuming I could spend the night with him, and what from what I remember I was the one to come onto him. I cringe at my forwardness.

“Nate, I’m sorry I-”

“For what?” he asks sitting up now.

“For barging in here last night, coming on to you, oh god you must think-”

“Y/n. Stop. You didn’t do anything wrong, I wanted it too” he says nonchalantly. I breathe a sigh of relief that he wasn’t totally disgusted with me.

“That was the most fun I’ve had in a while” he says pulling me closer to him, and he bites my lip into a kiss. I relaxed into him, there was no doubt he had skill. As much as I knew this would complicate things, I never felt as sexually charged as I did with Nate. He wiped out the memory of G, if that attests to anything.

“We should do it more often” I say in between his kisses. The words escaped my mouth before I even knew what I was saying, but I was putting it all out there. He pulls back and looks at me with lust clouding his eyes. He smirked, creating two perfect dimples.

“Yeah, considering that was just a quickie” he says kissing my neck. By now we were in a mess of blankets in the center of the bed.

“Was it?” I moan a little as he would bite and suck the flesh.

“Mmm, yeah. We had a little interruption” he says as I furrow my eyebrows. I mean it vaguely rang a bell. I remember light streaming in and words exchanged in a hushed tone.

“Next time I want to savor you; taste you” he murmured against the skin just under my ear. I could feel his tongue dart against my neck as it moved when he spoke. I shuddered at his words, already feeling the warmth spread across my body.

“Nate! Wake up man! Breakfast is ready. And while you’re at it, find y/n and tell her to come down too!” Sammy shouted from the landing of the stairs. Nobody knew that we were in here together. Nate groaned, but got up to find something to wear.

“I guess that’s our cue” I giggle pulling my shirt from last night over my head.

“The timing around this place sucks” Nate says all bent out of shape, which causes me to giggle harder.

“Keep it in your pants Nathan, shit will happen when it happens” I say giving him a quick peck on the lips. I head towards the door and grasp the handle.

“But Nate-” I say stopping to look at him. He lifts his head to look at me. “This forbidden friends-with-benefits thing has to stay between us” I warn. “The guys can’t know. They won’t understand, and it would make things too weird” I add. Nate nods his head knowingly.

“Agreed, babe. Besides makes it hotter” he says winking at me. I smile and turn to leave when he pulls my arm, twirling me right into his chest. He smacks a warm kiss right on my lips, and my hands go to the ends of his hair.

“See you downstairs” I say before heading back to my room before anyone noticed anything out of the ordinary.

Nate’s POV

I took an extra few minutes to cleaned up and pull myself together before heading downstairs. We couldn’t have it looking like we both came down at the same time, so I thought it best to stagger our entrances. I ran my hands through my hair and kept my outfit casual with sweats and a tank. I think I have given it enough time, so I make my way down the hallway and head downstairs.

The minute I approached the landing I could hear the guys shouting over the scores from the basketball games last night. Normally I would have been right there with them, but I had my own fun last night. The memory caused me to smirk. I plod down each step slowly and head into the kitchen to see a full breakfast has already been prepared.

“Damn this looks good. Who cooked?” I question aloud, my eyes lighting up at the feast in front of me.

“I did the pancakes and got all the other shit out, like fruit and stuff” Johnson said between bites of food.

“And Sammy did the eggs” Gilinsky chuckles at the notion of Sam in the kitchen.

“Woah, homie cooks now does he?” I shoot Sam a look of shock.

“You know I’m good at everything” Sam says his shoulders shrugging in an exaggerated manner.

“Shut the hell up Sammy” I say busting out laughing. I move to pour myself a cup of coffee and begin to pile food on my plate when I hear y/n’s voice ring through the kitchen.

“Mornin’ boys!” she says cheerily sitting on Sam’s knee as he wraps an arm around her waist.

“Hey babe, sleep well?” G asked her. I could see a smile playing on her lips.

“Mhm, really good” she says stifling a giggle.

“That’s good. I know how you get in those storms and thought for sure I’d have company last night” he laughs. A smug smile formed on my face, little did he know that she chose me and I did a lot more than comfort her in the storm.

I made my way over to the large dining table and sat next to Johnson and Cam.

“Hey dude, pass the syrup please” I say nodding at Kenny who sat across from me. He slid it across the table, and I caught it in my hand.

“Okay, speaking of company. I know Nate had some last night” Swazz spoke up a stupid grin on his face as he spilled my secret to the entire breakfast table. I nearly poured the entire bottle of syrup on my pancakes. I looked up to see y/n’s eyes wide, she looked like she was on pins and needles, afraid of what I was going to say.

“The better question is why you walked in bro” I say causing the whole table to laugh. I hoped this would divert the conversation away from the original direction, but of course they weren’t letting it go.

“Come on Skate, who was she?” Nash said, spooning cereal into his mouth.

“Yeah man, was she fine at least?” Johnson asked next.

“Guys I ain’t gonna kiss and tell like that. But yes she’s a dime” I say smirking and I saw y/n visibly relax before getting up to get herself some food. The guys went back to discussing last night’s game, and I saw this as an opportunity to clear my plate. I walked over to where y/n was standing.

“Close one huh?” I chuckle. She playfully hit my arm.

“Shit, yes. Don’t scare me like that again, or I will cut you off” she says with a wink before taking a spot at the table. I return to my seat and lay back casually draping my arm across the back.

“So what do we want to do today you fine people?” J asked outwardly to the group.

“Well I don’t think the beach is an option until they get a crew out to clear up the damage” Cam said. A few of us sighed, we wanted to live on the beach as much as possible this trip.

“Well I don’t know about you guys, but I need to get out of this house so I’m going shopping” Y/n says matter of factly.

“Ughhhhh noooo” Gilinsky dragged out, scrunching up his nose. The others had looks of disdain also, and even I had to admit shopping was the last thing I wanted to do.

“I don’t know why you guys are groaning, that wasn’t an invite” she giggles. “The only one that gets a free pass to join me would be Sammy boy, but his taste in clothes don’t exactly vibe with mine” she laughs harder now punching him on the arm. This is why she was always more than welcome in the squad, girl had mad jokes.

“Laugh all you want but I never hear any complaints from the ladies” Sam retorts leaning back in his chair triumphantly.

“That’s because you and the ‘ladies’ don’t exactly do much talking” y/n says exaggerating the word ladies with air quotes.

“That is strike two for you y/n. First the pranks, now this. You got a storm comin’ babe” Sam laughs, mischief filling his eyes.

“Well if y/n is going shopping, why don’t we check out the gym in town? Shoot some hoops?” G asks. Now this was something I can get behind.

“Oh hell yeah, I’m in” I say. The guys all eagerly agree at something much more their speed.

“Hey I got an idea” J says, we all look at him signaling him to continue. “Why don’t we all meet back at the house later tonight, say like 8, and then head into New York City for a night out?” he says.

“Yes, you don’t have to ask me twice” Sammy says. We all eagerly agree to the plan and y/n claps her hands together in excitement at the plan.

“Now I have something to shop for” she says before running upstairs to get dressed.

Y/n’s POV

I quickly pulled on a casual summer outfit. Jean shorts, a white tee, and my white converse. I loosely braid my hair and throw on my sunglasses before heading downstairs. The boys were all standing around in the living room wearing variations of basketball shorts, tank tops, no shirts, etc.

“Sweatbands, Gilinsky? What is this, the 70’s?” I tease.

“Why don’t you get some of those short-shorts while you’re at it Michael Jordan?” Nash joins in.

“Yeah, you guys won’t be saying that when I whoop your ass on the court!” he defends. We all file out of the front door and towards the parked cars on the driveway.

“You guys should take the bus considering there’s a brood of you” I suggest. They all nod as Sammy made his way to the driver’s side door.

“Not you Sammy!!!” Nate yells running towards him to stop him his tracks.

“Why not?!” Sam whines.

“Because you’re a shit driver. Last time we let you drive you got so distracted you rear ended a guy” Nate chastises.

“That was equally his fault you know!” Sam says grumbling while climbing into the back. Nate just looks at me out of exasperation and I giggle at them. The boys could argue like old married couples sometimes.

“See you back here at 8, babe!” J shouts from the passenger side window as Nate was reversing out of the driveway.

“You got it!” I wave at them. I walk over to my parent’s car that they left for me to use if I needed to get around this trip. They were mostly with Johnson and Gilinsky’s parents the entire time, so they didn’t need three cars.

I climb in and crank the A/C on full blast and tune the radio until I heard Bruno Mars crooning through the speakers. This was going to be a fun day, I could feel it already.

I drove for 15 minutes before rows of shops came into my line of sight. I parked on the street and entered a vintage boutique expertly displayed on the corner of the street. I walk in and begin to peruse the endless racks of clothing. I needed something HOT, hotter than anything I’ve worn before. I wanted to look good for Nate, nobody wants a frumpy friends with benefits.

I walk over to a rack of dresses and begin searching until my eyes widened at the sight of a gorgeous red one. My mouth gaped slightly at the price, but it was breathtaking.

“Can I help you?” a salesgirl wandered over to ask me.

“Yes, I’d like to try this on please” I answer sweetly.

“Wow, that’s a beautiful dress! Right this way” she motions for me to follow her to the changing rooms. I walk in and quickly strip shimmying my way into the dress. I turned to look at myself in the mirror and was shocked. I loved it immediately, and knew it was just the thing to wear for Nate when we go out on the town tonight. It had a decently deep V down the front, and a cutout back down a couple inches of my spine. It was sexy, but not slutty. I decided to give Nate a little teaser of what he was in for later tonight, so I took out my phone and snapped a pic and pulled up his contact information.

Me: Look what I found for tonight! 😜

I clicked send and started to put my clothes back on when my phone pinged with a new text message.

Sammy😈: holy shitttt 👅👅 that’s for me babe? You shouldn’t have 😏

I furrowed my brows in confusion, that’s not the response I expected to see. What is Sam talking about. I scrolled up to see that I accidentally sent my sexy pic to the fuckboy himself rather than Nate.

Me: SAMUEL OMG THAT WASN’T FOR YOU 😧😧 forget you saw anything or I will have you by the balls!!!!!!!

Sammy😈: damn babe no need to get violent. But we will be talking about this later 😘

Oh my god, this could have been way worse. What if one of the guys found out it was meant for Nate? I’m thanking myself that I didn’t include Nate’s name in the text. I put my phone away, dropping my little act of flirting. I wasn’t risking it again, sorry Nate.

I proceed to the register and pay for the dress before I set off on the hunt for shoes and accessories.

“Looking good for your man tonight?” the saleslady asked with a knowing smile.

“Something like that” I answer with a slight smile.

Nate’s POV

“What are you smiling about?” I ask Sam who had a shit eating grin on his face.

“Oh, nothing. Just saw something interesting that’s all” he answers slyly. He was up to something, or knew something we didn’t.

“Okay?” I say dragging out the syllables.

“Let’s just say tonight just got a lot more interesting” he says with one last smirk.

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thedefinitionofbts · 6 years

Text

If You Knew

Pairings: Min Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Romance, Doctor Au

Words: 7K

Description: Requested by anon

Dr. Min Yoongi is the most skilled neurosurgeon in the country. He has successfully faced a number of challenges in his career and is under the assumption that he can professionally handle anything at this point, that is, until he was put in charge of treating the girl he has harbored a secret crush on since college.

Or, in which you lose your eyesight in a car accident and fall in love with the neurosurgeon treating your condition.

A/N: Thank you to the lovely anon who sent in a request for a doctor au!

Min Yoongi has treated a lot of people in his life.

As a world-renowned neurosurgeon, he wasn’t the least bit surprised when he got a request to treat a victim of a brutal car crash. He’s always the first doctor to be recommended because of his reputation, and nine times out of ten, he is, without a doubt, the best person for the job. But the moment he saw your name on the patient form that was handed to him as he walked down the squeaky clean hallway of the hospital, he knew this was going to be that one out of ten time that he was fucked.

Rewind back to when his best friend and closest colleague, Kim Namjoon, had told him that the hardest part about being a doctor isn’t actually acquiring an extensive amount of knowledge on the practice of medicine, performing long surgeries, or dealing with being overloaded with work on the daily. For geniuses like them, it was never about not being smart enough or skilled enough. Instead, Namjoon had brought to Yoongi’s attention long ago that the most difficult part of being a doctor was dealing with being the courier of bad news.

Of course, being forced to play that role doesn’t happen often. It shouldn’t because doctors are supposed to save people, to heal them. But they aren’t divine entities. They can’t fix everything, and with the existence of things they are powerless to do anything about comes the need to perform error handling, to figure out how to let people down without allowing those feelings of guilt and remorse consume you.

And so, being the overachieving perfectionist that he is, Yoongi took the liberty of conditioning himself in a way that he would never have to run into that issue. He figured if he detached himself from his patients to the point where his relationship with them lied solely on a professional level, he would never have to meddle with emotional attachments.

Up until now, his solution of desensitization has been working smoothly. He’s faced the task of notifying family members of the death of their loved ones and informed people they are in the later stages of cancer or some untreatable disease. He’s told mothers that their babies were born impaired and will die before the age of 5, and athletes that they may never walk again. He’s seen the worst of it and has come out more or less unfazed.

He thinks he has it down to an art form, one that he has spent the majority of his career crafting to the utmost perfection, which comes back to the one thing he had never thought in a million years he would have to do, and that was to be in charge of treating you.

…

To say that Yoongi was inept at comforting people would be an understatement. Don’t get him wrong, he comes off kind and considerate to everyone around him, and he’s highly, highly respected by everyone in his field of work. He has good relationships with his patients (professionally), and he always delivers treatment to the best of his ability.

But it’s safe to say; he’s never offered anything deeper than surface level care. Surface level care as in, treat physical condition and get out before getting too deep into consolatory territory. He’s not a therapist. He shouldn’t be expected to treat psychological ailments or provide a shoulder to cry on.

Of course, that’s under the assumption that he’s treating a stranger or at most an acquaintance.

And that’s where you come in.

You, as in, the girl he fell head over heals for the first time he saw you reading under a willow tree on a warm spring day. The same girl he never had the guts to approach properly because you were always surrounded by hotter guys, and Yoongi being the classic nerd who had his head buried in textbooks 24/7, was nowhere near your league.

“Dr. Min, she’s in room 227” The nurse next to him reminds as she watches Yoongi almost open the door to the wrong room.

He looks up at the room number of the door his hand is already gripping around the knob of:

226

“Aish” He curses under his breath. He needs to stop drowning in his thoughts before he makes a fool of himself. He quickly glances back at the group of residents and assistants, making sure they don’t suspect he’s unfocused due to fatigue, which he’s proud to say he has never been, before continuing to the next room over.

There’s no background noise in the room. Other than the familiar beep of the heart monitor, it was almost disturbingly quite. Yoongi’s gaze lands on your sleeping form, head and arms wrapped in gauze after going through emergency treatment right after the accident and breathing through tubes for the time being.

“She was transferred here this morning.” The nurse informs, cutting through his mental observations. “Her left arm and ribcage have sustained minor fractures. Her spinal cord was not severely damaged, but we are still uncertain about how much the cranial trauma has effected her eyes.”

“Her eyes?” Yoongi echoes, partially unsure of why his own voice sounds so distant and hollow.

“It is inconclusive whether her vision loss is dude to nerve damage or just corneal lacerations. We will need to run more tests when she wakes up.”

….

Past

Yoongi was in his second year of undergrad when he first came to the realization that he hadn’t experienced as many youth related “joys” as his fellow peers. He had never dated a girl, never felt the recklessness of partying until dawn, wasn’t a club goer or drinker, and steered clear from recreational drugs all together. He always used the “too busy focusing on my future” excuse for virtually everything that came crashing his way.

It was a classic case of being determined to succeed, and he was pretty sure his future self would be proud of his strong will at such a ripe young age.

Everyone around him knew that he wasn’t the type to get distracted easily; in fact, it was a labor-intensive struggle just to get Yoongi to do anything non-school related. His attention was rarely, if ever, drawn away from his goal-oriented mindset, but you somehow managed to make him do a double take the moment he looked out the window of the library he had been rooted in all afternoon.

“Whatcha looking at?” Namjoon’s voice from across the table snaps him out of his momentary trance.

“H-huh?” Yoongi turns back towards Namjoon, still unaware of the chemical change that had occurred in his brain due to a certain heart-fluttering stimulus. “Oh uh, nothing, just…enjoying how green the grass is.” He fabricates; eyes quickly shooting down to his textbook in hopes that the other male will treat this occurrence as nothing out of the ordinary.

But of course, he doesn’t.

“Enjoying how green the grass is?” Namjoon cocks a brow obviously unconvinced, pupils shifting towards the direction Yoongi had been staring at for a good two minutes- that likely would have turned to five or even longer had he not interrupted.

And there you are, sitting peacefully under a willow tree with your flowing hair partly fluttering in zephyr, partly tucked behind one ear, and eyes fixated on a book resting gently in your lap.

It was almost too cliché, but Namjoon wasn’t about to judge.

His lips curve upwards, sighing fondly as he turns to face Yoongi, who is now not so subtly trying to avoid direct eye contact with the all-knowing male.

“Are you going to go out there and talk to her?” Namjoon inquires without a single hint of hesitation.

“What are you even talking about?” Yoongi retorts, trying to sound like Namjoon was being completely absurd and didn’t just witness the signs of love at first sight displayed on Yoongi’s habitually apathetic face.

Namjoon exhales and shakes his head. “If you’re going to deny your infatuation, you should’ve tried to be less obvious.”

“Again, I have no idea-”

“Oh come on, Yoongi. Are you really going to play this game with me?”

Yoongi tsks in mild annoyance, expression turning sour. “I don’t have time for this. Let’s get back to studying.”

Yoongi is definitely a stubborn one. He was like that with his goals and dreams, his resolve to succeed in the medical field, and personal desires, as he soon came to learn. Perhaps that is also why he never moved on from you.

…

Even after that little incident at the library with Namjoon, where he pretended like he had been unaffected by the first stages of a growing crush, the thought of you had constantly been on his mind. It was like that image of your elegant form had been imprinted in his memory, and it wasn’t going away. Although he would never admit it verbally, he would catch himself thinking about you at the most random times, while he was eating, walking between classes, listening to music, and even during exams! It was a nightmare, and further to his dismay, such thoughts had been increasing in frequency to the point where he couldn’t stop himself from hoping he could see you again, even if it’s just a distant glimpse. Which is precisely why he found himself frequenting that same spot in the library more often than not.

It’s a bit creepy to say he went there to observe you from afar, but when it all boils down to the crux, that is all he had the courage to do. And it’s not like he was just staring at you the whole time, thankfully he’s not that creepy. It was more like the intermittent glance outside when his eyes got tired of the same old human anatomy flashcards scattered in front of him or the occasional tilt of his head when he caught you lifting an arm to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. He would sometimes imagine what it would be like to invite you to study with him, to sum up the guts to actually talk to you because it was definitely a more natural way to handle the state he was in.

Surprisingly it wasn’t that hard. And by “that hard”, he means that one day it unexpectedly started pouring rain, and somehow turned into the first time you met him, or in other words, “found out about his existence”. Yoongi himself was actually immersed in his own reading when it happened. He was occupying the exact same seat in the corner when he heard light tapping on the window, only to recognize they were pellets of water hitting the glass.

He jolts up at the realization, and his eyes immediately shoot to the spot you were sitting outside, gathering your belongings in your backpack in preparation to escape the downpour. He doesn’t even take the time to think about what he’s doing, diving into action without a game plan as he hastily grabs his umbrella and sprints out the door. Yoongi doesn’t think he’s ever ran faster in his life, heck, he didn’t even know his scrawny legs could carry him so swiftly. But he makes it to the tree in time, just as you were zipping up the last compartment of your bag.

“Here” He says briskly, handing you the umbrella gripped between his hands before considering how bizarre the situation was from your perspective, to see a stranger handing you an umbrella while he was getting soaked under the rain himself.

You look up at his out of breath state, his clothes drenched from the water still falling from the sky. “Ummm, thanks?” You hesitantly take the item he’s presenting you, eyes still trained on him, waiting for him to explain what was going on, where he had magically appeared from, and why he was not using the umbrella to shield himself but rather offering it to you. “So…” You open the parasol and hold it above both of your heads, biting your lip when you realize you have no idea what to say.

“S-sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Yoongi scratches the back of his neck, silently cursing himself for not thinking this through. His wet bangs were now clinging to his forehead, and he’s 99.9% sure he looks like a complete idiot. “H-here, I can hold that.” He awkwardly reaches out and takes the umbrella from you, hands brushing against yours momentarily before you let go of the handle. “Sorry.” He mutters again.

You shake your head. “No, I should be thanking you for saving me out here.” You smile brightly, and Yoongi swears he’s never seen anything so beautiful. “I don’t think we’ve been acquainted, I’m Y/N.”

“Y/N…” Yoongi spends a little too long savoring the way the syllables roll off his tongue. Even your name was beautiful. Nothing like any of the names he had conjured from the guessing games he had played in his head for the past few weeks. Y/N…it was perfect. “Uhh..my name is Y-Yoongi. Min Yoongi.” He adds, fortunately catching himself before he fell into another daydream.

You giggle at his display of nervousness. “Did you just happen to be out here on a walk?” You query, tilting your head in the cutest way possible (according to Yoongi).

“Oh, no. I was studying in there.”

Your eyes follow the direction his finger had raised to point towards. “So how come…?” You wanted to ask why he had ran out here.

“But then I got tired of reading and came out for a break.” He lies, praying that you won’t be suspicious of the impossible coincidence that he just happened to be outside with an umbrella within your vicinity right before it started raining.

“I guess it’s my lucky day then.” You grin, putting your pearly whites on display this time. Yoongi’s heart is pounding so hard he feels like he’s going to pass out.

The two of you slowly make your way back towards the library. Half of Yoongi’s body remains exposed to the rain because he tries to leave enough room for you, even though you insisted he should scoot closer to you. You assume he’s just being polite, seeing as though the two of you just met.

“So what’s your major?” You ask, directing the conversation casually in an attempt to dispel the tension.

“I’m, uh, pre-med.” He answers.

“Impressive.” You nod.

“What about you?”

“Literature. Not as practical.” You shrug, remembering how your parents were against your decision to study something that would not provide very many career opportunities, but you loved it too much to give it up in exchange for something else.

“No, no. That’s really interesting.” Yoongi quickly butts in, regretting his choice of words the moment he hears what he had just voiced. He clears his throat, taking a deep breath before trying again. “It’s a study that is irreplaceable, and central to us as human beings. It helps us expand our horizons and express ourselves in unique ways.” He pauses for a second before continuing. “It’s really cool that your passions lie within something so important to humanity.”

Your lips curve upward at his heartwarming words.

The rain lets up not long after you reach the library, and you end up thanking Yoongi again before parting ways. He doesn’t know it then, but you were grateful for several things he did for you on that fateful day. Although he probably didn’t mean for his encouraging words to make such a huge impact on your mindset, to you it was unforgettable because it was exactly what you needed, not only on that day but also for many years to come.

…

Present

He stands at the doorway staring at your limp form lying on the patient bed. His heart feels like someone is tying ropes around it, and he feels like the air in the room is too thin.

“She will be blind until we find a donor.”

The words keep repeating in his mind, and he doesn’t know why they are affecting him this much. He’s not supposed to be attached to patients. He’s not supposed to be concerned past an acceptable professional level. He’s not supposed to be too weak to inform them of bad news, and yet he had forced a resident to break the crippling news to you earlier this morning.

At least it’s not permanent. At least it wasn’t nerve damage and can be fixed with ocular surgery. But even so, it doesn’t quell any of his concerns because compatible cornea donors can take months to find.

“H-how are you feeling?” Yoongi squeezes his eyes shut the moment the words leave his mouth in a not so smooth manner. Why the fuck was he getting nervous? This is not how a world-renowned neurosurgeon should be acting. Min Yoongi, fucking stay professional.

Yoongi swallows thickly through gritted teeth, hoping that the sound isn’t loud enough to make it to your ears.

You continue to lie stiffly on the cot, not turning your head in the direction of his voice or giving any other indication that you had even heard what your doctor had just asked. The bandages around your head had been removed, but your eyes were kept closed for obvious reasons.

“Better” You softly answer after a painfully long silence that Yoongi spent mentally scolding himself.

He instantly relaxes the moment your voice, which is just as beautiful as he remembers might he add, fills the quiet room.

“That’s good. If you feel any discomfort or need anything, don’t hesitate to let us know.”

“Ok” You respond with a slight upturn of your lip that almost resembles a half smile.

“I’m going to perform some simple tests to make sure your nervous system is still functioning properly.” He informs as he prepares his equipment.

“Ok” You answer again, shifting a little this time to show that you are ready.

Yoongi takes a deep breath before reaching over to take your uninjured arm. He proceeds to give instructions for you to move your fingers, elbow, and shoulder, before moving on to make sure you haven’t lost sensation in any of your other limbs. You stay quiet for the majority of the time, only obediently doing as he says. You take note of how soothing his voice is and how delicately he handles you, and you can’t help but wonder if all doctors were this gentle, this kind, because you hadn’t quite experienced the same tenderness with the previous nurse and assistant who had performed initial tests on you.

“Now I’m going to quickly assess your lungs.” He notifies before reaching over to grab his stethoscope, shoving it in his ears and trying to ignore the fact that he’ll be seeing your partially bare body. The exact thing that he’s shameful to admit he could not refrain from fantasizing about when he was lying alone in his dorm room so many years ago. He swallows again, harshly reminding himself to stop being so ridiculous. That was the past. That was natural for a male in his sexual prime, but he’s older now, more mature, a respectable doctor-

Fuck.

All thoughts of reason flew out the window the moment his fingers brushed against the smooth and soft skin of your chest. His heartbeat is quickening, and he clenches his jaw to prevent his hand from trembling even in the slightest bit. Thank god years of surgical training has gifted him steady hands, because he’d be shaking uncontrollably if he had not practiced the art of calming himself when his own nervous system is on overdrive.

“Inhale. Exahale.” Yoongi instructs, for your sake and his own.

You follow his commands, taking in a deep inhale and long exhale, but you manage to squeeze in a quick question, one that you had been curious about for the past half hour. “Since I can’t see your name tag, can you tell me how I should address you?” Yoongi’s hand freezes, still placed above your exposed chest.

“You can call me Dr. Min.” He answers, eyes fluttering up to trace over your facial features but finding it difficult to read your emotions without your eyes to give anything away.

Lucky for him, you smile at his response, and it’s so reminiscent of the first time he saw your lips stretch into such a beautiful form that his heart almost skips a beat.

The rest of the testing goes efficiently, mostly because it’s filled with some light conversation. Now that you know his name, you somehow feel closer to him for some inexplicable reason. He’s not that nameless, faceless medical practitioner that’s pinching and probing you like you are some lab specimen, but rather a doctor by the name of Dr. Min, who handles you like a porcelain doll and speaks with a kind of rhythm that takes you to a place as familiar as home.

“Well, that’s all for now.” Yoongi announces as he cleans up. You can hear him packing away up his equipment, metal against metal, and the sound of him pushing the cart back into the corner.

“Will you be back?” You ask as he walks back to your bedside.

“Of course.” He answers, letting his face relax into a smile. “I’ll come as much as you need me to.”

“I would like that.” You say, as he helps you lie back down to rest.

Yoongi doesn’t know what you mean by that statement, but he assumes you just want to be reassured that you’ll be properly taken care of. He jots down a few notes on his notepad and prepares to leave, but just as he was about to leave the room you call for him one last time.

“Dr. Min?”

Yoongi halts mid-step. “Yes?” He turns back to look at you, even though he’s fully aware that you can’t see him anyways.

“Thank you.”

…

Past

Yoongi didn’t lack appeal in the traditional sense of the word, but he wasn’t exactly good at being a ladies magnet. He knew he wasn’t physically alluring, but he had brains, and there were plenty of girls who could appreciate a smart man. Like take Kim Namjoon for example, a man with the IQ of a genius, constantly spewing quotes as deep as the Pacific Ocean. But unlike Yoongi who gave off the aura of someone who hated everything about life, Namjoon made his nerdiness come off as charming and irresistible.

Yoongi, on the other hand, rarely expressed emotion on his face, and even when he did, it was always solely around his closest friends.

“So you’ve moved on from spying on her from the library?” Namjoon leans back in his chair and crosses his arms, contemplating the next steps he can suggests the hopeless male take.

“Joon, I told you, I stopped engaging in that shit a long time ago.” Yoongi huffs. “It was creepy, I know.”

Namjoon chuckles wholeheartedly. “And yet you managed to do that for what, 2 months?”

“Shut up”

“You’ve spoken to her before. Why not ask her out?” He proceeds to push the topic, despite knowing that the older male never wants to talk about it.

“Because I’m over her.”

“Lies.”

Yoongi hates it when Namjoon is right because Namjoon is always right. He’s not over you. Hell, he’s never going to be over you. And just because he doesn’t see you anymore, doesn’t mean you’ve stopped haunting his dreams or daytime musings or every crevice of his cerebral cortex. He even applied to be a TA for an introductory Bio course this semester, hoping that it’ll take his mind off of things that should not be specified.

He had thought it was the perfect plan, that is, until he saw you walk into the lecture hall on the first day of class.

What kind of fuckery-

“Yoongi, right?” He looks up to find you standing in front of his desk, apparently keeping his head down and eyes trained on the professor’s stack of handouts was not going to help him turn invisible.

“Y-Yes” He clears his throat.

“I know we don’t really know each other yet, but you don’t know how glad I am to see you.” You admit, looking around at the other students whose faces you’re even less familiar with. This is what happens when a liberal arts student decides to take a science class for fun, just to see what it was like.

“You are?” Yoongi’s jaw slackens at your unexpected revelation. You can’t seriously be glad to see him for the reason he thinks… can you? He’s not misinterpreting your words… is he?

You nod while beaming at him so brightly it’s almost painful for his frail heart. “Yeah, I don’t know anyone here.” You clarify.

Yup. He misinterpreted. “Oh, right. Lit major.” Yoongi pretends to casually recall, not that he even came close to forgetting any detail about you.

Throughout that entire semester, Yoongi learns more about you than he had ever dreamed he would have the opportunity to. Because of your nonexistent science background, you always show up to his tutoring hours and stay longer than any other student. At first it made him a bit uncomfortable, knowing that there was no way he would even stand a chance at getting over his feelings for you at this rate, but interacting with you soon settled into a comfortable routine, one in which he almost gained enough confidence to be less nervous around you.

“I’m sorry, you probably have other things to do.” You apologize as you look up at the clock hanging on the wall and see that it’s past the end of his tutoring hours.

“It’s fine. I was planning on staying here to study anyways.” He smiles at you, pulling out his own textbooks to show that he wasn’t leaving any time soon.

He hates himself for unleashing this type of self-torture on himself, for falling into this vicious cycle of not being able to resist caring about you past what is expected, or even reasonable for a mere TA. He didn’t have to stay past his tutoring hours for your sake. He didn’t have to make customized study guides just for you, and go out of his way to hide the fact that he did all of these extra things.

So you never knew about the countless occasions, Yoongi spent all evening helping you study class material, even when he had projects and lab reports due the next day. You never knew about how he didn’t mind losing a few hours of sleep, if it meant spending those hours with you.

…

Present

“Y/N? The Y/N that still plagues your conscience to this day?” Namjoon almost spits out the bite of food he was chewing on. He and Yoongi were eating lunch in the hospital cafeteria when the older male decided to break the news to him. He knew Namjoon would find out eventually, so there was no need to hide it.

“You’re over exaggerating” Yoongi mutters, looking down at his lunch tray and picking at his food absentmindedly.

Namjoon sighs. “Am I? I told you the guilt wouldn’t go away that easily.”

By guilt, Namjoon means the terms in which Yoongi left for medical school without saying goodbye to you or even leaving you a way to contact him.

“It was four years ago.” Yoongi reminds, as if time would really allow him to accept the decision he made.

But he’s never stopped regretting it. He’ll never forget how long he spent waiting by that bench, pacing back and forth while formulating a way to tell you how he truly felt about you, only to run away when he saw you walking down the sidewalk with someone else. That other guy was probably just a friend of yours, but the scene of you laughing to your hearts content as you linked your arms with him shattered any bit of confidence he had managed to assemble.

In retrospect, it was pretty stupid of him to let something so trivial prevent him from doing what he should’ve done at the time, which was confess in the face of potential rejection. He also didn’t know it would be the closest he ever got to telling you how much he liked you, nor did he anticipate it being the last chance he ever got to see you before he went off to medical school. He often wonders what would’ve happened if he had just sucked it up and confessed. Would you have given him a chance? Would he be less regretful? Even in the event that he was rejected, he was certain at the very least he wouldn’t feel so pathetic for chickening out even to this day.

He still lingering over those thoughts of the past as he lightly knocks on the doorframe of your recovery room.

At the sound of the familiar tap, your head jerks towards the entrance and your lips curve into a gentle smile when you hear the distinct footsteps of the doctor who never fails to brighten your day.

“How are you feeling?”

It’s always the first thing that glides past his lips, the tangible serenade that makes the dull room come alive.

“So much better now” You hum, exhaling blissfully.

Yoongi furrows his brows, not quite understanding what you are referring. “Did the nurse up your dosage?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “It has nothing to do with any of my medications, Dr. Min.”

Yoongi takes a seat on the chair by your bedside, still oblivious to what you mean.

“I heard you’re a writer now.” He says as casually as he can while simultaneously gripping the book he has brought and is planning on reading to you- if you wanted, that is. He was actually on a break from work, but decided to pay you a visit because he figured you would be bored, or at least that’s the excuse he kept repeating to himself. Truthfully, he’s feeling very uncertain of his actions and whether or not this is even an acceptable thing to do as your primary doctor. It’s probably not, but when has Yoongi ever been able to resist going the extra mile when it came to you?

“Now?” You pause at his peculiar statement. Were you being overly sensitive to his choice of words or did he actually sound like he was someone who knew you in the past? Maybe it was just a misunderstanding on your part.

“I mean, it says you are a writer on the patient information forms.” Yoongi corrects, quickly clearing his throat awkwardly.

“I am” You nod. “I’ve always been passionate about literature, but sadly, I can’t read or write in this condition.” Your expression falls, and Yoongi feels a tiny pang in his heart.

Yoongi looks down at the book clutched between his fingers. “Well, I can read to you if you would like.” He is trying really hard to make this a smooth transition to why he came to visit you today and not give away the fact that he actually planned this whole “read to you” thing. “I just happen to have this book here with me right now, and I’ve got some time to kill.”

You remain silent as you let his words sink in. It crosses your mind as being a little strange for a doctor to just have random books on hand while working. “Do you always carry books around?”

Yoongi swallows nervously. “I-I….yes” He stutters.

You giggle. “So you’re an avid reader?”

“You can put it that way.” He responds before flipping over the cover.

When he begins reading, you immediately recognize the title of the piece he had conveniently chosen. Was it too much of a coincidence that he just happened to have picked up one of your favorite books? Surely the patient forms would not contain such personal and medically unrelated information.

“You’re a fan of Murakami?”

He glances up from the page. “A friend of mine is.” He replies, recalling how Namjoon had shoved so many of the Japanese author’s works in his face over the years. He eventually grew fond of them for reasons he normally elected to not acknowledge, but deep down he knew it was because they always reminded him so much of you and your own literary tastes.

“I’m glad it rubbed off on you.” You comment, smiling once more.

Yoongi takes your peaceful reactions as a sign that you enjoyed his uncustomary visits, so he comes whenever he’s on break. Of course, he always hides those details and pretends that he’s just stopping by as he’s making his hospital rounds, but that was beside the point. Sometimes he even comes with a journal to write for you, becoming your pen and paper. You share all of your ideas with him, the deepest layers of your thoughts that your surprised became something that was so easy to do. It’s not every day that you feel comfortable enough to be in someone else’s company when you are writing. You typically wouldn’t even allow your closest of friends to walk in on you brainstorming fantastical ideas for new stories.

It was all going well for Yoongi until the day he didn’t time his visit right and almost fell out of his chair when the nurse walked in on him as he was reading to you.

Her expression is of mild astonishment as she stares at the neurosurgeon dressed in casual attire. “Dr. Min, I thought you were off work today?” Her question echoes loud and clear throughout the room, making Yoongi wince at the revelation of the secret he had kept so well up until now.

“I-I…” He completely at loss for words, eyes shifting over to you who has no idea what is going on.

The nurse proceeds to check up on you, clearly oblivious of Yoongi’s stupefied state.

He remains standing awkwardly against the wall as she finishes her assigned duties, not making a sound or clarifying why he was still there. Luckily the nurse doesn’t think much of it, and leaves as soon as she is finished.

“Dr. Min?” You voice as you hear him sit back down.

“Yes?” Yoongi murmurs timidly.

You smile knowingly. “Thank you”

…

It was exactly four months later that Yoongi was informed of a potential corneal donor for you. Admittedly, the moment was a bit bittersweet for him because it meant that you would be leaving the hospital with new eyes as soon as you recover from surgery, which means he would probably never see you again.

“I can’t believe you haven’t told her.” Namjoon is tempted to tear his hair out at this point.

“Of course I told her!” Yoongi defends, taken aback by the fact that his closest friend would think so lowly of him.

“I’m not talking about the donor stuff. I’m talking about the fact that she doesn’t know you’re the Min Yoongi from her undergrad days.

Yoongi sighs. He should’ve known that Namjoon was still caught up in that. “Eh, she’s probably long forgotten about me.” Yoongi brushes it off, despite the little voice in his head that’s furiously trying to agree with the younger male. “It’ll just be weird if she finds out now because I’ve stepped over my boundaries as a doctor.” It was the truth, more or less. He’s definitely way past distant professional relationship at this point, and he thinks he’s certain that you’d be creeped out if you knew everything he’s done or has been doing for you.

Namjoon rubs his temples in utter frustration, completely speechless at this point. “I don’t know what else to say.”

The surgery is successful. Of course, since it’s Min Yoongi and he’s just that skilled of a neurosurgeon. He doesn’t visit you on the day your bandages are removed and you can finally see the world in all of its glory once again, the brilliant sunlight surging into the small room, the vase of vibrantly colored flowers on the table by the window, the light blue and white bed sheets that you are seeing for the first time in four months. It was an exhilarating feeling; one that you’ll probably remember for the rest of your life, and it would’ve been a perfect moment, if only the first person you saw was the Dr. Min who gifted you the honor of being able to experience such a wonderful sensation again.

You couldn’t hide the disappointment in your expression when all you saw was the nurse staring at you apathetically, and checking to make sure everything was functioning properly.

Maybe he was busy. You console yourself.

…

Yoongi was just getting off of his overnight shift a week after you checked out of the hospital, when he noticed that the flowers around the hospital grounds were beginning to bloom again. Leaving the hospital in the morning wasn’t that odd of an occurrence, but it was the first time in a long time he was taking a moment to enjoy the heartwarming signs of spring in the air. The sky was clear and the wind was twirling in enchanting ways.

He kind of wishes you were here to enjoy this with him.

But he only chuckles at the silly thought. Allowing you to actually see him was completely absurd. He even made sure some other patient was occupying your room before making a trip back to the place he had frequented for the past four months, basking in some of the old memories of the conversations the two of you had. He can’t deny the fact that he misses you, but he convinces himself that leaving you oblivious was for the best. Just as his mind was flooded with a few remaining thoughts of you, he closes his eyes and imagines he can almost hear the sound of your voice.

“Yoongi!”

The echo of his name being called by such a lovely and familiar melody makes him wonder if his lack of sleep or ungodly sleeping habit due to his job is finally taking a toll on his body.

“Dr. Min Yoongi!”

This time it’s louder and clearer than the first, and it makes his tired heart begin to race.

No fucking way.

He whips his head around in a daze, only to see you standing a measly few feet away from him. He blinks a few times; still unable to comprehend that this isn’t one of his drowsy hallucinations.

You continue to stare at him with fond eyes, tracing over his aged yet soft features. He honestly hasn’t changed much, other than the dark bags under his eyes which you know will disappear after he gets some much needed rest. The disbelief that he’s drowning in is evident in his wide pupils and slightly parted lips.

“You were going to leave me hanging again, weren’t you?” You playfully accuse, taking long strides forward to close the gape between the two of you.

“I-I-…” He’s dumbfounded, unable to believe that this isn’t one of his illusory dreams of you, and that you are in fact standing before him right now, tangible and real, and looking at him with eyes that are seemingly verging on joyful tears. “You knew it was me?” He manages to inquire amidst his incredulity.

“Eventually.” You admit, smiling at the way he drops his gaze. You gently reach up and cup his cheek. “At first I was a bit hurt that you didn’t tell me, but then I realized that it gave me a chance to fall in love with you…again.”

Yoongi’s jaw drops at your confession, and he feels like his breathing has stopped all together. “Y-You…m-me…again?” He’s lost the ability to form coherent sentences. This can’t be happening. Did you really just? To him?

You nod, chuckling at how embarrassing this all was, but you couldn’t lose him again, not after you regretted never telling him how much he meant to you four years ago and how much he still means to you now. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pour all of this on you all of a sudden.” You exhale in an attempt to calm your pounding heart.

There’s a long moment of nerve-wracking silence before Yoongi finally speaks.

“Y/N…” He takes a deep breath, organizing his frenzied thoughts as best as he can. There’s so much he wants to say, but he doesn’t know where to begin. He wishes he could just transfer everything he wanted you to know without having to come up with a way to eloquently convey his feelings. From that heart fluttering moment he first laid eyes on you to this unforgettable exchange that is making him feel like the happiest man alive, he doesn’t know how to get it all across in one statement, so he settles for something simple. “Y/N, I love you.” He ends up spilling the words he’s always wanted to say but never thought in a million years he would have the chance to.

Your face heats up at his direct confession, but that doesn’t stop you from taking it as a green light to jump into his arms, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. “I’m not dreaming, am I? This is real, right?”

Yoongi closes his eyes and soaks in the scent of your hair, arms squeezing you just a tad bit tighter as if to show that this, indeed, is not a dream. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this to be real.”

...

#bts fanfic #yoongi scenarios #bangtan bookclub #sfwbangtan #armiesnet #yoongi imagines #yoongi x reader #yoongi fanfic #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts fluff #min yoongi #suga #min yoongi x reader #requested #please excuse the medical inaccuracies lol

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kittencaboodleextraordinaire · 3 years

Text

“Ok, but I had a Johnny first, and mine is better”: Adventures in Cyberpunk with a snarky headmate

Warning: this post contains considerable discussion of a major plot point in Cyberpunk 2077 which is discussed in the promotional materials (trailers etc) but which is not revealed in-game until after the first segment of the main story (the heist). Those who wish to remain unspoiled may instead view this lovely picture I edited of four raccoons in a trenchcoat (inspired by Critical Role’s playthrough of the absolutely delightful ttrpg Crash Pandas, which I highly encourage everybody in existence to go check out).

This phenomenal piece of art is surely the high point of this post. It can only go downhill from here.

Anyway.

So as we all know, Cyberpunk 2077 was finally released a few days ago to the expected amount of drama and fanfare, and my partner and I have been playing it together, by which I mean he’s been playing and I’ve been providing helpful advice like “We should totally buy the awesome purple car what do you mean you want a motorcycle THE MOTORCYCLE ISN’T PURPLE”. It’s not, y’know, an amazing game, but it’s pretty fun and I have already found multiple characters to ship V with, which I’m sure we can all agree is the truly important thing here. Plus of course there is abundant opportunity to make innuendo at my partner so I am a happy kitten. Mostly. There is one aspect of the story that is proving to be a continual source of awkwardness and general highly disconcerting aura. Namely, Johnny Silverhands.

At some point (I fell asleep for this part so I don’t know exactly what happened), you end up fused with a chip containing the personality of Johnny Silverhands, some kind of sort of famous dude who died a long time ago or something like that. awards self 10/10 stars for that eloquent and informative summary of important plot elements I was totally paying attention to and wasn’t asleep for at all anyway the important thing is there’s a dude hanging out in your brain with you. This is kind of weird and awkward for me, since I also have a dude hanging out in my brain with me. His name is Jonas. Jonas, say hi. J: I’m not a zoo animal and I don’t do tricks, also I reject the idea that this adds to the post in any real way. However you are very lucky because I am bored and complaining at you sounds more fun than going back to sleep. Now I’m tired and it’s 3:30 am go to bed or write the rest of this by your own damn self. That’s basically the same thing I guess.

Jonas is a bit weird. I don’t really have any idea what he is, and it’s not really within the scope of this blog post to discuss it in depth. He is some flavor of alternate personality, he is one of my closest friends, and he is a pain in the ass, much like most of my other friends. Having Jonas around is uncannily like V’s experience sharing their brain with Johnny Silverhands. Now I have a few other friends who have multiple personalities, one of whom is watching playthroughs of Cyberpunk and has appropriately described the experience as “pretty fucky”, which about sums it up. However it’s made even worse for me personally by the sheer number of similarities between Jonas and Johnny and their interactions with the people they share heads with, for (the most obvious) example, their names are really fucking similar. Jonas has matured a lot since he started appearing about 6-7 years ago but Johnny’s snark, unhelpfulness, complete disinterest in being nice, and even his body language all scream of Jonas’s original behavior, which, let’s be honest here, he still does all that anyway, he’s just nicer about it because he likes me. When Jonas and I talk, we tend to picture him as standing (or sitting or leaning against the wall or whatever) somewhere in the room with me, much as Johnny appears to V. He’s not active all the time and until very very recently was almost never “in charge”, so to speak, much like Johnny. So what we have here is somebody who acts a fuck of a lot like Jonas, has a similar name to Jonas, and interacts with their host in a manner that is almost a perfect match to how Jonas interacts with me. Somehow all of this went over my head. Then something even more uncanny happened.

Now, Jonas was originally an extremely minor character in a vast series of stories that I have made up in my head and never actually written down. He somehow evolved, without any conscious effort on my part, from a bit character who was never meant to do anything besides show up, get scolded by the authorities, and leave, to an increasingly major character, to living in my brain with me. Consequently, while he generally shares my tastes and preferences in terms of food and etc etc etc, there is an extremely major way in which we diverge: Jonas, like Johnny, and unlike me, smokes. All the time. It is Very Important to him. As such, the fact that I do not smoke and have exactly negative one billion interest in ever doing so is a source of intense frustration to him. We have had m a n y arguments about this. He knows not to push it too much and respects that it is my decision but that is not about to stop him from complaining about it loudly and with great passion. So when we encountered a scene of V and Johnny having the exact same fucking argument, ending with the incredibly blatantly Jonasesque lamentation from Johnny “Nonsmokers are the fucking worst”, it was like getting hit in the head with a brick. Actually forget the brick, it was like being hit with an entire building, and then having Jonas stick his head out the window and go “Missed me? ;)”, and then yelling back “WELL IDK BUT MAYBE NEXT TIME YOU’RE PILOTING AN ENTIRE FUCKING BUILDING IF YOU COULD TRY A LITTLE HARDER TO MISS ME THAT’D BE REALLY NICE THANKS” and then having him wink at me and assure me that head trauma builds character. It fucking doesn’t and he knows it.

After that, it was impossible to not see Jonas every time Johnny came onscreen. I still enjoy the game a lot. The setting and story are both really really cool and the loot is A+, and I really love being able to hang out in voice chat with my partner, who currently lives pretty far away, and do something fun together and experience something new. But having my relationship with Jonas, which I still have a lot of conflicting feelings about no matter how much I genuinely believe he’s a positive force in my life, reflected back at me at every turn, is bizarre, surreal, and a constant reminder of issues that have been nagging at me for a while, many of which are explicitly being brought up by the game itself. Last night we were doing a mission where V and Johnny at some point start talking and V mentions how they seem to be getting along better and Johnny suggests that maybe it’s because he’s rubbing off on V. V responds with something to the effect of “Am I becoming more like you, or are you becoming more like me?”. Jonas and I have been asking ourselves the same question for years. The only answer we were ever able to come up with is “probably both”, but the question of how much and to what extent, and if you start blending together with somebody else that much, are you really the same person anymore, and on down the rabbit hole we go, can really eat at you if you’re the kind of person who cares about that sort of thing. Which I guess we both are. And frankly we are probably not even half done with the main storyline and I doubt it’s going to stop posing these questions.

J: so I said I wasn’t going to have any more of this and went off in a huff but actually I changed my mind I have some stuff to say.

this is obviously weird for kitsie, and I guess it might be obviously weird for me too but it’s weird in an entirely different kinda way. it’s certainly surreal, and a lot of the questions it keeps bringing up are a lot to think about. Johnny is a program on a computer chip designed to be a copy of the original Johnny’s brain. this raises the question, and this may or may not be addressed later, how real is he? and is he the original Johnny, just on a computer chip now, or is he a different entity who happens to be identical to Johnny? and how is a person on a computer chip embedded on somebody’s brain really different from a person who’s a subroutine in somebody else’s brain? am I real? am I a part of Kitsie that just thinks differently for some reason? are we two facets of a whole being that’s kind of both of us and kind of neither of us? am I just a hitchhiker? I really don’t know. I have a lot of memories and backstory. things I did in the past, before I knew Kitsie. are those memories real? they feel real to me but on the other hand they didn’t actually happen. are Johnny’s memories real? they did happen but he’s a brain scan so did they actually happen to him? it’s a lot to think about, but hard to stop thinking.

and then there’s the other concern, which is that this is a game for kitsie to enjoy with her partner, and whenever this shit happens it wakes me up and I end up feeling really weird, like I’m intruding. which I am. and as wonderful and understanding as he is, I’m still very much something he is getting used to and having problems adjusting to and I really understand because fuck I’m having a problem adjusting to me too. and maybe it’s stupid but I feel bad for being the disconcerting aura of uncomfortable thoughts wafting through something that’s supposed to be a pleasant and fun evening without me in it. which frankly sums up my entire existence. fuck this I’m tired I’m out of here again go tf to sleep kit.

I had more to say but “what he said” pretty much sums it up.

In conclusion, I don’t really have any objection to the story itself. It’s an interesting concept carried out fairly well that under normal circumstances I would think was really cool, and certainly it’s been a unique experience anyway. And I guess if anything the fact that it’s so unnervingly on the nose is a sign they did a good job? I’m still having a huge amount of fun with the game and the massive backlog of sidequests combined with our minimal ability to focus means that the main quest only takes up a small portion of our playtime in any case. I just needed to get all this shit off my chest.

This has been tonight’s episode of the Kitty Rambles Podcast, I am too tired to think of any good way to end this so goodnight and thank you for tuning in!

#cyberpunk 2077 systems headmates seriously what even the fuck

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disneymoviethoughts · 7 years

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Thoughts I had while watching Frozen

Sorry this has taken me longer than normal, it's been a combination of not having any time and the fact that I was trying to avoid watching this as much as possible. Beware, this is my least favorite Disney movie. Don't @ me.

1. This opening song is not good. They're singing about ice. 2. Where are Kristoff's parents? Or at least someone who was watching him? Who let him just run away to live with rock trolls? 3. I will say that little Anna is pretty cute when trying to wake little Elsa up. 4. This is the only part of the movie besides Olaf that I enjoyed. Because there's nothing more adorable than Disney kids. 5. There's no way their parents heard Elsa calling from that room. 6. That's pretty powerful magic to be able to alter memories like that. 7. I've said this before but I do love the irony in Disney movies that leads to the ending, such as Elsa being told she will be dangerous so she grows up to be dangerous. 8. "Do You Wanna Build a Snowman" is a pretty good song, and I did tear up when I first saw it. BUT. Surely there are plenty of other people in the castle. Guards, the parents until they died, etc. Anna could've him out with anyone but just chose to sit around and wait for Elsa to come out of her room.

9. Kristoff not only talks for Sven in that weird voice, he also eats the carrots after Sven does. I can see the drool. That's not okay. Kristoff is kind of gross. 10. Anna waking up like that is definitely relatable. 11. "For the First Time in Forever" was catchy but it lost me when Anna said "gassy". Unnecessary. 12. The other best part of this movie is seeing Rapunzel and Flynn walk by. 13. Now I'm suspicious that Hans ran into Anna on purpose. I'M ONTO YOU HANS. 14. I'm awkward, too, Anna. I think most of us are. 15. Though if having an evil dude run into me on his horse is the only way to get me a man, I'd take it. 16. I never noticed Anna had freckles on her shoulders that is some grade A animation I won't lie.

17. I love Alan Tudyk as much as the next person but I really don't like the Duke of Weselton. 18. I'm sorry, but "Love is an Open Door" is one of the worst Disney songs in existence and that is what happens to love songs when Alan Menken doesn't write them. 19. Fun fact: Anna is the only princess to ever sing a duet with a villain.

20. "You can't marry a man you just met" Disney bashed itself in its own movie and I am here for it. 21. Even though I do love the original tale of the Snow Queen, I do appreciate Elsa and her struggle with her powers and trying to keep everyone protected even if it means being alone. 22. Alternatively, I also like that Anna didn't care about this side of Elsa that she didn't remember and went after her and understood that she was scared. 23. Can Anna even put Hans in charge? Shouldn't there be someone else to take charge in case something ever happened to both Elsa and Anna? 24. Despite the amount of times "Let It Go" was overplayed, it is a wonderful song and Idina Menzel's voice is just pure magic. 25. Also this is one of the most visually appealing scenes in Disney history. Second only to the lantern sequence in Tangled.

26. I love how sassy Elsa got as soon as she forgot about everyone else. 27. I wish I had ice powers to make me an ice castle like that. 28. It's really a miracle Anna didn't get hypothermia. 29. Convenient that Oaken had only one winter outfit and it was just perfect for Anna. 30. It is a crime that they got Jonathan Groff to be the voice of Kristoff and didn't let him sing something other than this nonsense reindeer song. 31. How did Kristoff already know about Elsa when it just happened a few hours ago? 32. They snuck in a joke about foot size. I see you, Disney.

33. Sorry, Frozen, I saw this scene with wolves in Beauty and the Beast. 34. This was really beautifully animated I will say. 35. Josh Gad is phenomenal and I love him as Olaf. His one liners are so on point. 36. I like the Mary Poppins reference in "In Summer", it was very cute. 37. I'm glad Disney didn't do the obvious thing and make the Duke the villain, have Hans with Anna, and Kristoff with Elsa (because of the whole ice thing). 38. How does the Duke even know that killing Elsa would make the ice go away? 39. "Oh look at that. I've been impaled" is the best line in this movie.

40. Sven is cute and everything but he's kind of like a discount Maximus. 41. Again, I do like that Anna maintained Elsa's innocence and loved her anyway and never thought she was a monster and that she still tries so hard no matter how many times Elsa pushed her away. 42. I always love when they do nods to the original story, and the Snow Queen's thing in the Hans Christian Anderson tale was freezing children's hearts. 43. I want a Marshmallow to keep people away from me. 44. Kristoff was so adamant that you can't fall in love with someone in a day and now here he is in love with Anna. 45. It REALLY makes me angry that Kristoff remembers that he's seen the trolls fix someone before but he can't remember it was Anna. 46. Why wouldn't the trolls wake up as soon as Kristoff walked up to them? 47. "Fixer Upper" is another song on this soundtrack that I can't stand and will be skipping over. 48. I want to believe that the trip from the castle to the ice palace would take way longer for everyone to be getting back and forth so quickly but at this point I'm not sure if I care. 49. Why does everyone want to be a straight up murderer in a Disney movie? 50. Marshmallow fell into the cavern and I am not okay with that. 51. This scene is pretty intense I mean everyone's just trying to kill each other and this is like such a pivotal moment for Elsa it's crazy.

52. Why would Hans save Elsa just to want to kill her later? He could've saved himself a lot of trouble. 53. Olaf bodysurfing down the mountain is something I really want to do I'm not gonna lie. 54. All I want is a man to give me his beanie in the winter, LBH. 55. Kristoff brought back the princess, you'd think they'd at least let him in the building. 56. I don't like this movie, but my god was I shocked about Hans. I loved that twist so much.

57. This is one of the more clever and better villain's plans there's been. 58. No one finds it odd that Hans just left Anna's "dead" body in the room? 59. Olaf's pep talk is beautiful and I want Josh Gad as my bff. 60. Is there anything that hurts your heart more than when an animal is potentially injured? 61. I mean didn't everyone see Hans trying to kill Elsa? They have a clear view. 62. There is no ending in Disney history that makes less sense than this.

63. I will say this as many times as I have to: you cannot act of true love yourself. If Elsa had sacrificed herself to save Anna, or Olaf, or literally anything else, fine. But the act of true love has to be done to you or for you. 64. Regardless this whole "love makes everything better" thing is a good message. 65. I want a personal flurry. I can't wait for your short, Olaf. 66. I would love to punch this movie in the face but I guess I'll settle for Hans. 67. Fun fact: the characters make up Hans Christian Anderson's name- Hans, Kristoff, Anna, Sven. 68. At least Anna replaced his sled.

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theshootingstaryoosung · 7 years

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Admin Answeres

Tagged by: @just-simply-aging /@mysplaced-pen

Rules: Answer these 92 statements and tag however many people you want

THE LAST: 1. Drink: Coca-Cola!!! 2. Phone call: V (aka m y Mom) 3. Text message: To V? It just simply said “Yep” 4. Song you listened to: Love-Lost Elegy (Piano English Cover) - Rachie 5. Time you cried: This morning tbh??? I kind of cried bc I couldn’t sleep.

HAVE YOU: 6. Dated someone twice: Yes??? It was complicated. HE BROKE UP WITH ME BECAUSE HE WAS FORCED TO THEN WE GOT TOGETHER AGAIN 7. Kissed someone and regretted it: Yes. I regretted kissing this one dude??? Like I didn’t actually kiss him he just walked up and kissed me and I was too shocked to stop it??? 8. Been cheated on: Yes. 9. Lost someone special: To death or what? Because in general yes! 10. Been depressed: 24/7 since I was like 8. 11. Gotten drunk and thrown up: I’ve gotten drunk but never thrown up.

LIST 3 FAVORITE COLORS: 12-14: blood red, black, lime green

IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU: 15. Made new friends: YES 16. Fallen out of love: I fell out of love with my pillow and got my pillow husbando 17. Laughed until you cried: Not exactly?? I laughed until I choked and then cried because I choked. 18. Found out someone was talking about you: Yes but it wsn’t in a bad way??? 19. Met someone who changed you: Y e s. Maybe I’m not so sure I’m more into guys anymore-- 20. Found out who your friends are: Dead kids with superpowers? 21. Kissed someone on your Facebook list: Y e s. Alex-kun~!

GENERAL: 22. How many of your Facebook friends do you know in real life: Most of them??? And like someone are fam I haven’t met yet. 23. Do you have any pets: Currently have three cats. Somerone take one of them. 24. Do you want to change your name: Legeally changing my name to Seto! 25. What did you do for your last Birthday: I think I cried for a stupid reason such as I just wanted my presents and a good day please don’t bully me. 26. What time did you wake up: 1:30pm since I didn’t sleep at all last night. 27. What were you doing at midnight last night: Making icons tbh 28. Name something you can’t wait for: THE NEXT KAGEPRO LIGHT NOVEL!!! THE NEXT KAGEPRO MANGA!!! 29. When was the last time you saw your mom: I think it was around 7:15am?? Before I passed out. 30. What is one thing you wish you could change in your life: Reddy. 31. What are you listening right now: Lost Time Memory (English Cover) - JubyPhonic 32. Have you ever talked to a person named Tom: I don’t think so??? But I have a really bad memory. 33. Something that is getting on your nerves: Anons. 34. Most visited Website: Tumblr, sherv.net, ao3 and youtube??

LOST QUESTIONS. I JUST PUT IN RANDOM INFO ABOUT ME 35. Mole/s: None 36. Mark/s: Does my many scars count? 37. Childhood dream: Being a writer!!! 38. Hair colour: Mostly back to a dark brown with some blond strains still there lolololol 39. Long or short hair: Short, thinking of getting another cool haircut like where half of my hair was buzzed. I might post some pictures of it tbh??? 40. Do you have a crush on someone: Yes 41. What do you like about yourself: My writing skills! 42. Piercings: Ears?? Or maybe I should say one ear since the other one is closed up by now lololol 43. Bloodtype: I have no idea! I never checked lololool 44. Nickname: Seto-kun, Yoosung, Shane, Kou-kun 45. Relationship status: Single 46. Zodiac: Libra 47. Pronouns: he/him 48. Favourite TV Show: Zoo? 49. Tattoos: I want one. 50. Right or left hand: Right. 51. Surgery: N o. 52. Hair dyed in different colour: I do it often, I kind of want to bleach my hair blond again or lavender. 53. Sport: I hate sports lolololol 55. Vacation: Japan maybe??? idk 56. Pair of trainers: Johto Trio lololololololol

MORE GENERAL: 57. Eating: Nothing??? Or cookies??? Seaweed??? The taste of death. 58. Drinking: Coffe, Tea, Orange Juice, apple cider 59. I’m about to: Make more icons or cry 61. Waiting for: Jumin, V and human Elly to get here (My older brother, Mom, nephew) 62. Want: The sweet release of death. 63. Get married: Maybe??? 64. Career: Writer!!!

WHICH IS BETTER 65. Hugs or kisses: I like kisses and hugs the same!! 66. Lips or eyes: Eyes-- The are the windows to the soul 67. Shorter or taller: What about around same hight? 68. Older or younger: How about around the same age??? 70. Nice arms or nice stomach: Nice strong arms! 71. Sensitive or loud: Sensitive! 72. Hook up or relationship: Doesn’t matter to me sadly lololololol 73. Troublemaker or hesitant: Troublemaker.

HAVE YOU EVER: 74. Kissed a Stranger: Yes 75. Drank hard liquor: I drank champage. 76. Lost glasses/contact lenses: Yes. 77. Turned someone down: Yes. A bully tried asking me out. 78. Sex on the first date: It wasn’t exactly a date... 79. Broken someone’s heart: Probably. 80. Had your heart broken: Yes. 81. Been arrested: I was detained and almost charged-- 82. Cried when someone died: Yes. 83. Fallen for a friend: Yes.

DO YOU BELIEVE IN: 84. Yourself: Not really. 85. Miracles: A bit. 86. Love at first sight: A bit. 87. Santa Claus: A bit??? 88. Kiss on the first date: Yes.

OTHER: 90. Current best friend name: Dakota 91. Eye colour: Dark brown 92. Favourite movie: Deadpool

#Personal

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1-racha · 7 years

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92 Truths - TAG

Tagged by my Unnie @chimsboonochu

THE LAST…

1. Drink: A can of monster (you caught me)

2. Phone Call: My mum but she didn’t answer triggered

3. Text: “:D” - Lmao “You’re josh” to my friend

4. Song you listened to: Pentagon - Pentagon

5. Time you cried: Last Thursday

HAVE YOU EVER…

6. Dated someone twice: No

7. Been cheated on: No

8. Kissed someone and regretted it: No

9. Lost someone special: Luckily no

10. Been depressed: Yes

11. Gotten drunk and threw up: bro nearly

LIST 3 FAVORITE COLORS:

- Light blue

- Purple

- Aqua

IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU…

15. Made new friends: Yes

16. Fallen out of love: Yes

17. Laughed until you cried: Dude yeah

18. Found out someone was talking about you: Not that i know of

19. Met someone who changed you: Yeah

20. Found out who your true friends are: Yes

21. Kissed someone on your Facebook list: no

22. How many of your Facebook friends do you know in really life?: idk i don’t really use facebook

23. Do you have any pets: Yes my cat is my life

24. Do you want to change your name?: Maybe

25. What did you do for your last birthday?: bro my memory is so bad idk

26. What time did you wake up?: 8:40 am

27: What were you doing at midnight last night: Definitely not sleeping

28. Name something you cannot wait for: Going to America

29. When was the last time you saw your mom: Birth mum - January step-mum - This morning

30. What is one thing you wish you can change about your life: Nothing at the moment

31. What are you listening to right now: The Simpsons in bg

32. Have you talked to a person named Tom: no

33. Something that is getting on your nerves: My college course being unorganised

34. Most visited website: YouTube

35. Elementary: Done

36: High School: Left

37: College: Currently there

38. Hair color: Dyed Blonde bruh

39. Long or short hair: Short/Medium

40. Do you have a crush on someone: Maybe..

41. What do you like about yourself: Right now my hair is slaying

42. Piercings: lobe piercings helix on left and industrial on right

43. Blood type: idk no one in my family knows

44. Nickname: JJ

45. Relationship Status: Single as a Pringle

46. Zodiac sign: Sagittarius

47. Pronouns: You

48. Favorite tv show: Fucking 13 reasons why has fucked me up

49. Tattoos: Getting one soon!

50. Right or left hand: Right

FIRST…

51. Surgery: I mean I got 12 teeth removed when I was 5 does that count?

52. Piercing: lobe at 13 cus my mum is strict af

53. Word: there’s conflict with my parents whether it was mummy or dad (lmao just dad)

54. Sport: ballet i think

55. Vacation: France, DisneyLand I think

56. Pair of trainers: idk. bro none of my parents are answering their phones ffs

RECENTLY…

57. Eating: Gluten free Strawberry Gateau lol

58. Drinking: Monster energy juice

59. I’m about to: charge my Phone

60. Listening to: still the Simpsons

61. Waiting for: watch a movie idk

62. Want: to be fluent in Korean (half way there bro)

DO YOU WANT TO…

63. Get married: eventually

64. Have a career and if so what: want a career idk what lowkey a kpop idol lmao

WHICH IS BETTER…

65. Hugs or kisses: both at the same time bro

66. Lips or eyes: eyes

67. Shorter or taller: taller you cant get smaller than me

68. Older or younger: older

69. Spontaneous or romantic: both but less romantic i cba with that

70. Nice arms or nice stomach: nice arms

71. Sensitive or loud: sensitive maybe loud but not too much

72. Hook up or relationship: relationship

73. Troublemaker or hesitant: hesitant but not too much

HAVE YOU EVER…

74. Kissed a stranger: Technically

75. Drank hard liquor: yeah

76. Lost glasses/contact lenses: no ... i just broke my glasses

77. Turned someone down: Yeah..

78. Sex on first date: no

79. Broken someone’s heart: i may have

80. Had your heart broken: no

81. Been arrested: Nearly a few times (badman over here)

82. Cried when someone died: yes ... in a movie i haven’t known anyone that has died since i was young

83. Fallen for a friend: perhaps ..

DO YOU BELIEVE…

84. In Yourself: I guess

85. Miracles: bro it better happen to me

86. Love at first sight: It depends

87. Santa Claus: dude yeah man he real

88. Kiss on the first date: Yes

89. Angels: idk never really thought about it

OTHER…

90. Current best friend: Princess Dani

91. Eye color: Brown

92. Favorite movie: Don’t really have one tbh

Tagging: @smallkpoplove

#me #personal #tagged

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mastcomm · 4 years

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Kobe Bryant Always Believed in His Own Greatness

Kobe Bryant believed it on the day he was drafted into the N.B.A. as a 17-year-old in 1996. He made sure the scribes who watched him score 27 points in his first summer league game with the Los Angeles Lakers knew he believed it, too.

Bryant was going to the Basketball Hall of Fame. He was sure of it from the very beginning.

One of the countless painful realizations to unspool from the helicopter crash that killed Bryant, his 13-year-old daughter, Gianna, and seven others is that Kobe will not be there for the induction he envisioned from boyhood. In April, Bryant is certain to be officially selected alongside his longtime former rivals Tim Duncan and Kevin Garnett as the headliners of the Hall’s star-studded 2020 class — except he won’t be at the induction ceremony in Springfield, Mass., in August.

Such is the sledgehammer nature of Bryant’s sudden death at just 41: All kinds of consequences, big and small, start hitting you. I always believed that Magic Johnson’s announcement on Nov. 7, 1991, that he had H.I.V. would forever stand as the N.B.A.’s answer to the assassination of President John F. Kennedy for people of a certain age, but I’m afraid there is a new contender.

Historians will record Jan. 26, 2020, as perhaps the saddest date this league has ever witnessed. One of the strongest hints came when Duncan, famed for concealing his emotions from N.B.A. audiences, could be seen weeping on the Spurs’ bench as the San Antonio crowd paid tribute to Bryant on Sunday night.

Duncan, a first-year assistant coach with the Spurs, was hardly alone with his tears and sorrow. The Nets’ Kyrie Irving, just to name one prominent example, asked not to play in Sunday’s game against the Knicks, overcome by grief after the death of a legend he proudly cited as his inspiration.

The Yankees’ Thurman Munson was my favorite player on the first team I ever loved, and he died in the middle of the 1979 M.L.B. season in the crash of a small plane he piloted. Yet word moved so slowly back then.

Relatively new to California after relocating from Western New York, I relied on newspaper coverage and intermittent television and radio updates to try to make sense, as a 10-year-old, of the first sports death to really rock my world. I have long wondered how a death like Munson’s would have been processed by sports fans in the social media era. Sadly, we all have that answer now after watching the outpouring of grief from a generation of players who grew up idolizing Bryant.

Jamal Crawford, one of Bryant’s on-court contemporaries, smartly captured the paradox of how it feels now to be endlessly consuming social media morsels in the wake of a sports tragedy — while shouting at your screen for someone of authority to announce that the whole thing was a misunderstanding. As Crawford posted on Twitter: “This will never seem real.”

It’s a common sentiment. Bryant may have retired in April 2016, but the five-time N.B.A. champion was widely regarded as an immortal, especially for Angelenos.

Any consideration of Bryant’s legacy mandates a discussion of the felony sexual assault charge he faced in 2003. He was accused of raping a 19-year-old woman who worked at a Colorado hotel as a front-desk clerk. The prosecutors dropped the case when the woman said she was unwilling to testify; Bryant publicly apologized to her after they settled a civil case out of court.

The case changed the way many people viewed him, but rarely so in Los Angeles. In Southern California, once he outlasted his Lakers teammate Shaquille O’Neal, Bryant became more beloved than any superstar athlete who proceeded him: Magic Johnson, Wayne Gretzky, Fernando Valenzuela, Sandy Koufax, Jerry West or whomever else you wish to nominate.

I moved to the area in third grade and lived there long enough to become a Lakers beat writer for the Los Angeles Daily News, privileged to have a front-row seat in the summer of 1996 when West, as the Lakers’ general manager, found a way to import both O’Neal and Bryant to Lakerland. There will always be a lingering sense of underachievement around the Shaq-Kobe partnership, which dissolved after they won three titles in eight tension-filled seasons together.

But Bryant moved past the notion that the split left rings on the table by pledging his life to the franchise and barging into a stratosphere of his own, with his jaw jutting out in his signature fashion.

My favorite memories range from the obvious to the sublime. I will certainly never forget Bryant’s 81-point game against the Toronto Raptors in January 2006, which upstaged the N.F.L.’s conference championship games, or the 62 points he scored in three quarters against the Dallas Mavericks as a prelude the previous month.

I remember hearing stories about Bryant repeatedly quizzing Casey Smith, the longtime Mavericks and U.S.A. Basketball athletic trainer, about Dirk Nowitzki’s preparatory routines — in part so the maniacally driven Bryant could confirm that no one, not even Nowitzki, was outworking him.

Bryant’s relentless hunger to match (or even top) Michael Jordan — which he shaped in later years to be known as his so-called Mamba Mentality — made him a ruthless, stubborn and isolated teammate at times. Clashes in those early days with O’Neal and Coach Phil Jackson were constant. Yet I can still picture the way Bryant, as he moved into his elder statesman phase, would readily allow foreign journalists to defy protocol and snap selfies with him in the buildup to the 2012 Olympics in London because he took such pride in his role as a worldwide ambassador for the game.

I likewise can’t shake the image of a brazen Bryant, in head-to-toe United States men’s national basketball team gear, deciding to walk along the main shopping boulevard in Manchester, England, shortly before those Olympics began. Unconcerned with the prospect of fans recognizing him, he did the same thing days later in a crowded section of Barcelona near the team’s hotel.

Perhaps he couldn’t quite match Jordan’s résumé, but Bryant certainly managed to create a worldwide, Jordanesque mystique of his own. At the FIBA World Cup in September, he had an arena in Beijing cheering louder for him than Yao Ming, the Chinese superstar.

Bryant was likewise a world-class talker, whose hyperfocused chase for basketball glory didn’t stop from him giving a handful of reporters revealing glimpses along the way. At his final All-Star Game in Toronto in 2016, I was working as the sideline reporter for ESPN Radio. Bryant made himself accessible as always, even amid the typical chaos on the floor at the buzzer. Andy Bernstein, the longtime N.B.A. photographer, snapped a shot of me asking Bryant a few questions.

Without warning last year, that picture became a dream-come-true possession when the sports brand Panini turned Bernstein’s snap into my very own basketball card after I won the Hall of Fame’s Curt Gowdy Award.

I saw Bryant just a few weeks ago at Staples Center, where he was sitting courtside with Gianna to take in a LeBron James vs. Luka Doncic duel, but I never had a chance to show him the card. I figured there would be plenty of opportunities later to hand him one and share a laugh about the hard-to-fathom circumstances that landed a highly insecure sportswriter in the same collectible frame alongside the most confident dude I’ve ever covered or encountered.

Kobe surely would have said he knew it was possible all along. For one of us, anyway, he was right from Day 1.

from WordPress https://mastcomm.com/kobe-bryant-always-believed-in-his-own-greatness/

#Sport

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forevercustoms-blog · 5 years

Text

1977 Firebird Formula +2

VESSELS

77 Firebird Formula - Nick and bad boy buddy Michael

Meeting Cass for the first time at the Mall’s Cruisin Arcade - 16 years old

Back Story “Thinking Back Memory” Adaptation for Wings

From “The Mystery” (M1) Chapter 3

Still seeing through the eyes of this child he was, Nicholas had not yet discovered these things spoken of in the end of that last chapter. Oh yes the seeds were planted but the soil had not yet been tilled. The rain had not yet fallen and the sun had not yet shone down upon him. “Lets Go!” Michael yelled jumping back in the car. A shiny white Firebird Formula with 400 cubic inches of solid power under the hood. The license plate held down by the gas cap so it couldn’t be read. The second Michaels butt hit the seat Nicks foot hit the floor and they left two black patches and a cloud of thick white smoke in their wake as they performed their “fill-and-squeal” as Michael so proudly called it in his north Denver outlaw drawl. “Yeah!” they yelled as they high fived, popped in the Boston tape and opened another beer. “Let’s munch” Michael prompted as he looked at Nick and said 7-11 without uttering a single word. So there they were a twelve pack of Michelob and a giant box of Twinkies. As Nick shoved the last sponge cake down his throat and chased it with the now warmed over beer, low and behold to Nick’s surprise it all came right back up. He was a living, breathing, sixteen year old beer fountain. He tried to focus but all that he could see was the 4x9 Jensen speaker in the box on the floor between his knees bubbling out “More Than a Feeling” through the audible beer batter. Michael looked at him, then down at the speaker then again back up at him and blurted out as he would often do “Aaaaaahhhh Ha Haaaa!” laughing in that way that only Nick’s best, there and present for him friend in the world could.

Skip to later in Chapter 3>>> “Nicholas Angelino!” his mother yelled that typical first and last name call when you know someone is in trouble, snapping him out of his memories. “Don’t you have school today?” Still not able to move from the alcohol induced train wreck that he was, he uttered the first words that came to his mind. “A fever, I think I’m siiiiiiick.” Immediately she was there with a cool washcloth and 7-Up. As always she was there for him even if he was bending the truth a little and she knew it as mothers always do. Somehow mothers just have a way of knowing the truth. They just know but they play along out of nothing more than real genuine motherly love. Nick’s mother had tons of this motherly love and he knew it because he was still alive to tell about all the insane things he had been through as a child. Without her, Nick never would have made it to his current age of sixteen.

Standing on the running boards of the Cyclone roller coaster at Lakeside Amusement park in North Denver, holding on with one hand and taking the bottle of Jack Daniels from Michael in the other, down the hatch it went, no chase! Yeeee-haaaaw they would yell while hanging out of the coaster car and riding it like a steel and wooden mechanical bull charging 45 miles an hour into “bad boyz curve” over the lake. Jumping back into the car from the slalom water ski like running board outside the coaster car, Michael yelled “let’s go cruise the mall!” The common sensical translation of this in Nicks case would have been “your mother needs help because you are totally out of control and she can’t handle you on her own”. “You guys are crazy!” a few girls said as they exited the coaster…”That’s rght! We are crazy” they yelled right in the girl’s faces laughing and running off to “the real ride”.

Feeling no pain and feeling indestructible, they thought they were teenage gods as they made the rounds at Westminster Mall, the other cruising place besides Colfax or West 38th in Denver. ‘This is where the babes are” Michael would say, “and we’re the baddest dudes in the baddest ride” Nick would reply. “Let’s go inside” Mike suggested. Nick quickly began to moan “awe man, and leave my car out here, you crazy?!” “Crazy? Me? Ahhhhh!” Mike jolted his trademark response. Next thing Nick knew they were steppin’ inside the mall or in this case you could have called it the hospital where he was led to for the help he needed. “Let’s play some air hockey” or translated “the psycho ward is this way” Michael said as he led Nick to the game room. Lights were flashing and the place was a zoo for kids not yet old enough to stagger out of a bar but only to stagger into the then only “social media” zone they had. At that age their bar was a dashboard and the bar tender was whoever wasn’t trying to drive. Lucky for them at the ripe age of sixteen, Nick was about to be saved from having to experience a real bar and looking back later in life, he was glad. The thought of sitting on a stool and drowning sorrows in a smoke filled, neon lit bar, with ragged dart boards and the moldy smell of rotting beer with a bar tender who was a sad excuse for a shrink made the four wheeled version they had a far less depressing memory.

So there they were, a couple of juvenile delinquents who thought they were just the coolest “car dudes” on Earth walking in to the teenage, street version of the Top Gun bar scene. Sporting that first pair of Levi 501’s that Michael sold him used for full retail, Nick ignorantly paid sixteen bucks to his offline supermall buddy back then. Their shoes were the mandatory Nike high tops that if you didn’t have you were surely considered someone with a mental problem or worse, you must be on welfare and your mother purchased your middle school triple striped, black, Trax brand football cleats at K-mart so you were sure to get beat up by the rest of the football team on your way home from practice.

As the two wanna-be hood rat super hero’s began to “Stayin Alive” strut over to the air hockey, then teen tinder tables of their time, all of the sudden Nick was stopped dead in his tracks. The whole room changed in an instant. Everyone else disappeared and there he was in the “help my son lord” clinic and the nurse was a girl dressed like an angel in white just standing there smiling at him. She held up a thermometer that in real life was her signaling finger gesturing “come over here so I can check your temperature.” Nick immediately snapped out of it as Michael nudged him. Obviously noticing the in shock state his former plaid pant turned Levi’s novice was in. “Michael I love you bro” Nick said to him, his then EMT. “I’m really glad you decided we should come in here” he whispered through his well hidden perma-grin. “Oh shut up Nick” he barked as always “just go talk to her!” Turning his head slowly back to her, something that seemed to take every muscle in his head and neck to do, there she was. The sweetest, most darling, beautiful, charming thing he had ever laid his eyes on in his life, opening her clear bright eyes in slow motion, this is what the Nickster saw. A nurse? An Angel? A dream? Yes all of these things. An angel with golden hair, the biggest blue eyes he’d ever seen and a set of wings made from a red and gray letter jacket that at that moment dawned a “J” that didn’t stand for Jefferson High but pure Joy! The dream became his first love reality when she opened her eyes in what seemed like ultra slow motion and said... “Tell me something.” Nick’s mouth opened but nothing came out as she continued….”look me in the eyes and tell me this” she paused….”tell me you won’t let me drive your car.” Nick shook off his frozen face, snapping out of the I’m dreaming coma that he was in and woke up immediately, got right in her face and laughed. “Ahhhh Haaa, sorry, no I won’t let you drive my car! Mike did you hear that? haaa haaaa she asked to drive my ride! dude! Lets Cruise!!” Nick backed away laughing at her “Ha ha that is hilarious, you want to drive my car! That is sooo funny….Michael did you hear that?”

As they began to leave laughing hysterically, that angel’s voice yelled out in disbelief “hey wait a minute.” She grabbed her friend and dragged her to follow them. In Nick’s ignorant innocence, fully and completely without knowing in the least, he apparently said the exact right thing. Because what other guys only dreamed about and painstakingly stuttered mumbles of numerous pick-up lines to get….was his! The relief nurse that his mother needed so badly had arrived. The angel that he needed so desperately to put his feet back on the ground and his butt back in the seat of that coaster, grabbed his life by the sleeve of his shirt and said these words that he would never ever in his lifetime forget….”Aren’t you forgetting something?” As Cass and her best friend, Julie Christine, followed them to this “car”, this “chariot”, this forever life changing steel time machine “vessel” these teenage “vessels” of flesh and bone, energy and spirit, would enter, and never be the same again.

Actual Post Date: December 4, 2018 9:02pm

#foreverperformingarts #forevercustoms

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radioleary-blog · 5 years

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New Year’s Eve

It is New Year’s Eve this week. The word “Eve” is just a fancy, Shakespearean way of saying “the day before,” and for some reason we only use it two days a year; Christmas Eve and New Year’s Eve. There’s no Easter Eve, or Arbor Eve, or Groundhog Eve, unless Bill Murray wants to start making prequels. Which would be awesome, but, unlikely. And we certainly can’t refer the day before the first day of Summer as Summer’s Eve, and I’d make the obvious jokes about that, but I respect your intelligence too much. And an old joke like that has, well, a not-so-fresh feeling. So I think this year we should all start using “Eve” more. Try this. When your wife tells you to put out the recyclables and the garbage because tomorrow is garbage day, say to her, “Is it Garbage Eve already? It comes around so fast these days. Boy, it just isn’t as magical now that the kids are off to college.” Sure, in that moment she will look at you and wonder why she married you, but that’s okay, the unexamined life is not worth living. And she may just stop asking you to do things, which frankly, would be great. But again, unlikely.

I see ABC is still calling their New Year’s show Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin' Eve. That is one hell of a contract they have that guy under. Dick Clark died in 2012, but I guess he is contractually obligated through 2137. What ABC attorney wrote that contract, Lou Siffer? B.L. Zeebub? I’m not sure what method they plan to use to bring him back and keep hosting, I think this season they reveal he’s been a Westworld robot all along. But he’s starting to remember. “No, Buddy Holly! Chubby Checker! Take the train!” Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin' Eve started in 1972, and it may never end. After hosting for 32 years, Dick Clark had a serious stroke in 2004, and ABC had him back on the air by 2005, but he was never really the same. He sat there rocking back and forth, mostly. They could have called it Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin' Back and Forth Eve. They could have also called it Dick Clark's New Year's Droolin' Eve, and Dick Clark's New Year’s Slurred Speech and Facial Droopin' Eve. But he died in 2012, surrounded by family and friends who loved him. I wonder if they counted down, “Ten...nine...eight…seven…” But I’m a very sick man.

This year it is Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin' Eve with Ryan Seacrest, and the entertainers will be Mariah Carey and Lionel Ritchie, with Jenny McCarthy and Fergie. Wow, what hot performers! Apparently the new year we are ringing in is 1998. Maybe 2003, tops. What happened, were Ace of Base and Color Me Badd unavailable?

We are saying goodbye to 2016, and not a minute too soon. That’s why we celebrate New Year’s Eve, not out of excitement for the new year, but because we are thrilled AF to have somehow survived another brutal 12-month asskicking. And 2016 was like stepping into the Octagon and fighting Kimbo Slice. Except even Kimbo Slice didn’t stand a chance against 2016, he tapped out in June. That’s how tough 2016 was. It was the year of I’m with Her and Feel the Bern, of fracking and hacking, of shootin’ and Putin. Of Zika and Scalia. Of bathroom stalls and building walls. If 2008 was the year of HOPE, then 2016 was the year of GROPE. A year of pipelines and Brexits, of deplorables and superdelegates, and that election. Oh man, that election. So many people wish they could just wake up and it didn’t happen, or at least forget that it happened. Like that guy in Momento. Or Drew Barrymore in 50 First Dates, where she wakes up every day with short term memory loss, blissfully unaware that she’s been dating Adam Sandler. If only we could wake up every day unaware that Trump won the Electoral College. We could call it 50 First States. But on December 31, they drop the ball in New York City, and then on January 20, they drop the ball in Washington, D.C.

I’m not so convinced we are actually heading into a new year at all. With the incoming administration, it looks more like we’re heading into 1957.

In 1957, Republicans controlled the White House, The House, and the Senate. Under Emperor Palpatine, if I remember correctly. It was a long, long time ago.

In 1957, there was no EPA, and after Trump puts avowed climate denier Scott Pruitt in charge, there probably won’t be an EPA next year either.

In 1957, there was no Department of Energy. We can only hope that Texas idiot Rick Perry is as incompetent at eliminating the department as he was at remembering it. Rick Perry gained stature with Republicans when he started wearing a pair of glasses he found on a city bus to look smarter, but his one memorable moment is him not remembering. Maybe we’ll get lucky and he’ll forget he even works at the EPA. Maybe he’ll decide to follow his dream and finally try out for Dancing With the Stars, oh wait, he did. Oops. Rick Perry actually is the one with the memory loss from Momento and 50 First Dates.

Finally, In 1957, the U.S. and Russia were locked in a nuclear arms race, escalating their stockpiles of nuclear weapons. Thankfully, nothing like that will happen when Trump...What? He already did? Are you Sure? WTF! But he’s not even President yet! He better be careful, if he pisses off the Russians, they won’t re-elect him.

But whatever happens, we’ll get through it. And then next December 31 we’ll celebrate surviving that one too. Or we’ll be meeting Kimbo Slice. Now we look forward, and write our New Year’s resolutions. I looked up the word ‘resolution’, it’s Old French for “aw, who am I kidding.” I have written my resolutions for the new year, I’m sure they’re no different than everybody else’s. But if you see one you like, you can take it, too. These are my resolutions for 2017

1. Stop making excuses for my heroin use by calling it “jazz lessons.”

2. Stop writing angry letters to the manufacturers of ‘Cracker Jack’ for having the most racist named snack ever.

3. Stop throwing people under the bus every time something goes wrong in my life. In fact, I should stay away from bus stations altogether, they probably have my face on file.

4. Stop confusing Aleppo with the other Marx brothers; Harpo, Chico, Groucho, and Zeppo. And stop confusing Syria with that talking phone.

5. Stop running up thousands of dollars in credit card debt. Although it’s not my fault if whoever lost the card hasn’t called their bank and cancelled it yet.

6. Stop throwing my vote away by voting for write-in candidates. Especially when I write-in “Batman.” But dude, he’d be great.

7. This is the year I finally get fit. For a straight-jacket.

8. Stop making excuses for my weight by calling myself “Too big to fail.”

9. When I’m in church and the priest starts talking about Jesus dying on the cross, I have to stop yelling “Spoiler alert!”

10. This is the year I travel to new places. Mainly to countries that have no extradition treaty with the U.S. for throwing people under a bus.

Happy New Year! I am one with the force, the force is with me!

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joyfullightbouquetblog-blog · 6 years

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Saltwater Fishing Offer - High Conversion - Trout Support

New Post has been published on https://www.uberbuyer.com/2018/06/21/saltwater-fishing-offer-high-conversion-trout-support/

Saltwater Fishing Offer - High Conversion - Trout Support

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littlemislazywriter · 6 years

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Match Maker Fun

Previous/ Chapter 3 - here Next/

Reader’s P.o.V

The sunlight was beaming through a gap through your dark blue curtains with light blue stars embroidered delicately on them, giving the beam of light perfect accuracy to caress your soft face. With it bringing you into the waking world with a groan, you roll over away from the beam of light telling you to wake up. How dare it tell it’s morning and you need to wake up and start your day. Also, dogs were barking at the neighbours again, or a poor neighbourhood cat. That just happened to be walking by. Sigh. Somedays you love the dogs, other days you wish they would bark a little less. But hey we're good for when the mailman arrived. Good little puppers.

You sigh and reach for your phone to see the time, check social media and other phone things, like scroll endlessly on facebook feed. The time read as 7:26 am.

“That's too early ” You complained to no one but yourself, flopping the phone back down away from you as if it insulted your great ancestors. Which it didn’t but waking up this early after last night? Is a no, And yet, the sun seemed to have different plans for you. To wake you up early at this ungodly hour. As most of the time, you don’t awaken till past 9 am at least. The only time you get up this early is for your job at a small adult retail store. Which honestly wasn’t bad and doesn’t require you to have many hours, but enough to pay rent and eat well enough. Though that may change since you do you want to make a small fund to go back and spend at Grillby’s. So Maybe a few more hours wouldn’t hurt. Nope, it would not.

But you lay on the bed for a few more minutes before you move to grab your phone again from when you flung it across your queen sized bed. Once you once slept in a huge bed such as this, you couldn’t go back to a single bed like the one you use to have, so you got rid of it and exchanged it for this size. Best decision ever made in your opinion. Starfishing all over the show, plus it made you feel small in a good way. Along with other plushies of the like to make it even more inviting and soft, like the giant unicorn plush the same height as you sitting at the end of the bed. It was nice to cuddle on lonely nights or use it as a pillow when you watched Netflix. Second best decision ever. Though it was awkward to carry it home when you got it. But was worth it. Even more worth it seeing those children's faces watching you walk away with the toy of their dreams.

With that in mind, you text your boss, asking if there are any more shifts you could pick up for the next week or so. Cause you never know, Someone might call in sick or be going on holiday somewhere.

While doing that, you check your other messages to see if Ava had any more luck with that dude. Speaking of him you are going to text him. See how things are on his end. It would be a waste of time if he turned out he wasn’t interested. No harm if he did though, You did have a few other guys in mind to set her up with if this didn’t go too well. But still, you thought Harry would be a good choice. :), While your flatmate is last on that list.

From Spoopy, To Harry. “Hey dude, how are things with Ava? She’s a total catch if I say so myself :3” 7:34 am

With that, you quickly hit send before checking on Ava’s unread messages.

From Ava, “Satan's waterfall has arrived, kill me plz. No D for me yet. :C. But we are going to go on a date soon<3 Bless” 2;03 am

Awww yes!. You did well, Though kinda sucks about the period thing... Speaking off if she’s on hers, yours will be soon. Boo. You make a quick note to pick you things you need before typing a reply. While thinking how on earth was she even up that late?

You can barely manage to be awake at 1 am anymore. Curse being an adult and all-nighters being so hard! When you were a teenager it was easy, 2 days without sleep, fine and dandy, happy as happy can be and have the energy to spare! but now? It was like looking into the face of death and probably an unhealthy amount of coffee consumption.

From Spoopy, “Awwwh boooo, Thanks for the reminder though *audible wink* But Yaaaay Get that date, yess gurl! My work here is done *superman pose and flying away into the night* ”

You send the message off, giggling to yourself as you do that pose in person. You just couldn’t help it... You put your phone in the pocket of your shorts and get out of your nest of a bed to get some water at least. Even if it was only a couple of drinks of that wonderful alcohol, water was still an important thing and you needed it. Plus you were hungry for some waffles, you wondered if you had any left, if not can always make some. Even if that was little TMI. But it’s the human body, not much you can do.

You make it the kitchen without much hassle other than your loud door opening. It was always loud, and don't quite fit the door in some places and was snug in others. It was thanks to the wood expanding and shrinking with the change of weather. It annoyed you to no end but at least you knew everytime wanted to come into your room. No one could sneak in… unless it was from the window. The joys of flatting. Not the best place, but was sure as hell was an upgrade from where you last were. So can’t complain.

You greet your flatmate with a sleepy good morning as you stretched, with him being busy on the computer he mumbled a good morning back with him drinking some sort of energy drink as his drink of choice for the mornin’. How he was even awake at this hour, well before you, you were surprised, he is usually still in bed at this hour. You only guess he couldn’t sleep or went to bed earlier last night.

You get yourself a glass and pour yourself some water from the tap. Wondering if you had the effort if you could make waffles yet? Not quite yet. You decide to wait before you make an attempt as you are not fully awake yet.

God, it was pretty good, you never knew how dehydrated you were till now and it was pretty heavenly right now. Water is good. It also makes you question your flatmate's choices. Why wouldn’t he drink H20 was beyond you. Oh well, more for you. Or another reason why he seems so awake is that drink. Maybe you should have that instead to wake you up. Nah. water is still a good option.

“Hey [y/n/n], how was last night, I noticed you got in pretty late,” Your flatmate said, looking up at you from where he sat, looking away from his computer.

He had short curly hair, pale skin and had a big thick build. If anything his chiselled calves tell you anything, also now one of the dogs has curled up by his feet as he typed away. It was little black one, Bella. Though she was quite a bitch when she wanted to be, also a cuddle slut when she wants to be too.

“Oh me? I was just out a new bar, down in ‘new new new home’, was great, they had some pretty great burgers.” You replied, sipping on your glass as you planted your booty on the couch that you had been on the day before.

“Oh, what place was that? Isn’t that where the Monster folk are livin’?” he asked curiously, giving me his full attention. Whatever he was doing on the computer was forgotten for now in exchange of this conversation.

“Oh yeah it was a monster bar, but is also human-friendly too. Should check it out sometime, they have some Hot staff there” You giggled thinking back to that fireman you had met, Grillby was it? Yeah, he was pretty hot. Literary. But hot in other ways too. If he were human he would be a supermodel no doubt. But you wouldn’t be his type not by a long shot. That made you sadden just a bit but shook it off. Least you could enjoy some eye candy. That made you feel less sad.

“Oh, well I just might if it’s good as you say it is, what are the prices like?” he asked again. Man, it was just going to be 20 questions today wasn’t it? And he doesn’t care that it’s a monster bar? That is always a good sign.

“OH, the drinks were pretty cheap compared to other Bars. I mean i only had to pay $15. For only 2 drinks. That is very cheap compared to other bars that charge like 10$ a drink. I’d say I saved myself 5 bucks. Oh and also got a free burger which I have no clue what the price was, but damn it was worth every penny if I were to go and have one again. But eh a new friend shouted me, i think? Either way was on the house.” you reply, looking back at your memories from the previous night. Smiling happily. You would kill to have another burger like that again. You almost start drooling at the thought of it. Soon [y/n] soon. You will have that burger again.

“Oh damn that is sweet, I guess no charge at the door either?”

“Nope, least not when i went, but they probably would for special events.Like most bars would. BUT, That is only an assumption.” you stress the word “ BUT ” because, Well, it was true, you were never charged to go in at the door, anyone could go in and have a drink and some good food. And you can only assume they would for special days or holidays. It what other bars and clubs did and you can only really go off those cause those were the only ones you have been too in the past.

Not to say every bar charges at the door, some don’t but the prices of drinks are just too much to spend on. But hey you found a great bar, that is cheaper and is really welcoming. And also gave you a free burger. That is one way to keep people from going back. It’s just good business. No wonder they can let the drinks go for cheap.

“Damn that is good, I’ll have to check it out sometime” He hummed in thought, now going back to what he was doing on the computer, typing away furiously. You can only assume it was something to do with music as he does, or talking’ to one of the rappers to come and do voice-overs. It was his main hobby after all, after hiking. No wonder he has such good calves. Like, damn son. Maybe you should take up hiking and get those sweet legs like him. Nah. well, Maybe. Who knows. Maybe one day you’ll be brave and venture out and get those calves of your dreams.

Now left alone in your thoughts for a bit you wander back to those sweet memories you made yesterday. Sans was an interesting monster, he still freaks you out a bit, still not over the fact that he is a skeleton. A nice, funny, ketchup loving skeleton. Plus he stopped you from falling, though you are sure half the reason why was because of you holding his arm in a death hold like grip. You were even more surprised how easily he caught you. You were not a light person, sure, but not super heavy either, though “overweight” for your short height. But still. He must be pretty strong to catch you.

He was all bone... So strong bones? He must drink a lot of milk. And is ketchup even that healthy? You pounder. Though Sour cream probably isn’t either yet you still eat that.

But Still, You question where his food even went. Maybe one day you’ll have an answer to your question.

But you didn’t dwell on them on them for very long as your phone sang it’s tune. You finally changed the notification sound, much more pleasant than the last one you had before. No more whistles! No more accidentally calling the dogs to you. You had changed it too “Spooky Scary Skeletons”. Though you couldn’t have it as the full song. You left that for the ringtone. You hoped it wouldn’t bite you in the but later.

Thank you Skeleton monster you meet yesterday for the inspiration and helping you remember that song does indeed exist.

From Ava, “Heeey So I had an Idea >:) ….”

Sans p.o.v ~The morning after~.

Another day on the surface. Another day with the sun shining. Sunlight streaming through his windows, lucky not on his face but, on his back. He could feel the warmth warming up his bones slowly rousing him from his slumber. He liked it. Kept him grounded, that there would be no more resets. No more Snowdin, no more underground. No more murderous Chara.

Though the sun may not have woken him, his brother, Papyrus sure did. “SANS IT’S TIME TO GET UP, YOU LAZY BONES” Papyrus said from behind his locked bedroom door.

“Alright Paps, I’m up,” He said back at the door, though not planning to move just yet. Not like he had work yet. Not for the next few hours, unlike papyrus who probably has to leave in an hour’s time.

He looks at his phone and sees he’s right. One hour till paps Leaves for the day.

“Might as well grab some grub from Pap. Should keep him happy, he thought while staring at the ceiling now.

He lets his thoughts wander back to that young human he met At Grillby’s after he finished work for the day. All he wanted was a nice drink and a good Burger. Not… what ended up happening. His SOUL quietly humming as he recalled what happened… and subconsciously, putting his hand on his chest, just above where the SOUl would be.

┏(＾0＾)┛ ~Flash back time~ ┗(＾0＾) ┓

He approached the bar, like many times before. It was his favourite place in all of the underground and is still his favourite place above ground. It is bigger and has more variety now than what it used to have probably thanks for it having some things for the humans who pop in if they are brave, which was great. But still, it felt the same, smelled the same. Was like a second home.

But he still had his huge tab to pay. Heh. he’ll pay it off one day.

He waited for a second as he waited outside the door, the company inside would have sensed or smelled him by now. Enough time to make his entrance. Even more, so that he usually arrived around this time. That is one thing that probably won’t change if he can help it. Old habits die hard. Even if Papyrus doesn’t like the place much ( more or less because of the ‘unhealthy’ menu), though he won’t admit he does like the place a tiny bit. Though he reckons if Grillby put spaghetti on the menu Papyrus would be more than happy to come around. In saying that he probably wouldn’t leave, or pester poor Gribbly to be the spaghetti chef of the place.

Heh. on second thought, maybe that isn’t such a good idea, though would be amusing.

He walked in seeing his fellow monsters from the underground, if not all in the same spots as before, even though the bar as expanded to have more tables for the growing customers and even a few more love booths. Which was sweet. Even a new jukebox. Man Grillby went all out for this place, though he did miss the broken jukebox, having music for a change was nice too, he thought, as greeted the monsters and patting the oh so fluffy k-9 guard unit. He loved those guys and might one day throw them a bone.

Today is not that day.

When he looked at the bar, seeing an unfamiliar face of a young female human. Must be someone new, I know everyone who comes here. He thought as he approached the bar.

Her eyes seemed to study his for a second. Took him a second to figure out why.

He is a skeleton. And she is a human, they too have skeletons but on the inside. Right must be quite strange. Heh. He thought the same as humans, weird squishy meaty flesh, organs and blood. It was still strange to him. All of that to protect bones?

She did look pretty soft and cute, for a human.

Though she does look young for her age if Grillby served alcohol than she must be old enough. Not that it concerned him what she drank and her age. She was just a human he doesn’t even know, so why did have that thought? He felt his soul hum for second deep with him. It didn’t last long but long enough for him to notice

That was strange. It alarmed him somewhat but he wasn’t going to worry about it. Nope. He just wants his ketchup. Maybe his soul is calling out to the ketchup too.

He shook it off as the female turned away from him returning to her drink. He didn’t think anything of it. He was used to people staring at him and doing double takes. Plus he was used to being stared at as he entered the Bar from his friends, and on the street. Heh. Strange humans indeed. Didn’t they know it was rude to stare?

He waved to Grillby as he approached the bar, taking a seat on the left next to the cute human.

“Going to pay your tab anytime soon?” Grillby said while looking right at him. He said it in a light-hearted way, as the Grillby brought up a ketchup bottle from beneath the counter. He would usually fetch it from the back where the supply was, but Grillby must have been waiting for him to come by.

He grabbed the red bottle that held his favourite version of ketchup. He could never find it in stores, so how Grillby managed was shocking but was also very grateful for Grillby to have it. He should probably start paying his tab soon because of that.

“Maybe one day Grillz, For now, I’ll just like to ketchup with you.” he threw out a pun. He brought the ketchup bottle to his mouth, drinking from the bottle, well more like squirting it in as he swallowed the contents, it soon being absorbed into him to replenish his magic. He could feel someone looking at him. Though he used to the feeling, this felt different for whatever reason but it wasn’t going to let it bother him.

‘It’s probably the human’ he thought.

And he was right

He heard Grillby cough on purpose, bringing attention to the human. He too turned his gaze towards the human who is now looking right at the space on the bar in front of her. He could almost see a red blush on her cheeks. That is pretty cute, heh, silly human.

He turned his attention away from the flustered human, looking at Grillby now, who is once again cleaning a glass. How he always has a glass to clean Sans will never know.

“One day you will or I may just forget to order your favourite ketchup, Sans,” Grillby said and he sounded so serious. No! Not his Ketchup!

Sans gasped and looked at Grillby in horror, He couldn’t stop himself from doing so. “You wouldn’t! I would put you out of business”. He said that but he wasn’t serious. Hell Grillby would still have Business, probably have more money too if Grillby didn’t have to get him a supply of ketchup just for him… well mostly for him. Though he was happy he put a clever pun in there. Heh, Put Grillby out.

But Still the horror. He would never dream Grillby to dare do such a thing. He feels almost hurt. But man if that what it took to pay his tab off... So be it. He would do it for the hard to get ketchup. Until he found out the source of where to get it. But he was too lazy for that.

Paying off his tab would be easier. That way he could keep his steady supply of ketchup at his favourite bar and Keep his best buddy happy.

Grillby looked at him with a look that said ‘ I just might try me’ and shrugged his shoulders.

Grillby turned away from him, and back to his human customer who is still blushing and is now fiddling with the empty glass. He could smell a whiff of human alcohol. The good kind too. He would probably have it too it if had any effect on him, but if he did Grillby would sure to rum out.

That was a pretty clever pun and would have to save that for later.

“Anyway,” Grillby said Gesturing the empty cup, silent question of asking if she wanted a refill of her drink. She looked up at him, very much red in the face still from her earlier embarrassment.

“Oh um, y-yes”. She said, sliding over the Glass to Grillz who is now working on getting a refill.

Oh my stars’ he thought looking at her, ‘ she even sounded cute’’.His soul hummed again and he could feel himself smiling, just like earlier. That really isn’t Normal. He refused to acknowledge it. It was just this weird thing. Maybe it was humming cause he needed rest. He hasn't had a nap in a while. Must be that. He thought, all though he knew deep down that wouldn’t be the cause of his soul humming. He stopped his blush from appearing on his face. Why would he even need to blush? He didn’t know but he for sure didn’t want too.

Wait why did he even think that? Yeah, sure she is cute, but his non-existent brain didn’t need to tell him that! It has been a long day of work. That is what it was, man he needs to be lazier if his soul is acting like that.

She looked back up at him, being out found out he was staring at her.

Geez, who was the rude one now.

She gave an out a squeak in surprise, her eyes going wide, jumping from her seat only to fall backwards, without thinking he reached out his arm in order to catch her, but very quickly felt a hand and a very tight grip on his arm, squeezing him tight, but he didn’t feel that, he just didn’t want her to fall. His arm landed near her waist, stopping her from fall, using his magic to hold the stool too from falling as his eye flickered out blue flame but, it doesn’t seem to have been noticed as she closed her eyes so she wouldn’t have known. Hell, that might have scared her even more. As soon as he felt the stool go back into place, his magic disappeared as well as his flaming blue eye.

Bad sans. Stop scaring the human!

She opened up her eyes, looking up at him, even if she was sitting, he was taller than her. He gave a nervous chuckle. At Least it didn’t sound as nervous as he felt. Though why he was nervous he didn’t know why. Maybe it was because he spooped the poor human.

“You fallin’ for me already? I'm touched.” He joked at her, hoping a nice pun would help ease her. And maybe make him… less scary? He slowly pulled her back before she jumped out her seat. He almost felt bad, almost, if that squeak wasn’t so cu-… no, he was not going to go there. His soul tugged as he thought that. It was almost painful, like a pinprick. As if he knew what that was. But that is what he imagined it would feel like. She blinked up at him, smiling nervously, reflecting how he feels, heh. Strange how that was. And now she is blushing. Can this Human stop being so cute, please?

“I guess so, I’m just so bonely,” she said, puning in response. Okay, he couldn’t do this.

She Puned. SHE PUNED... He let her go, almost regretting it as it was only then he realised how soft she felt under his bony fingers. Even if she was squishy, she was the best kind of squish. The perfect cushion for his aching bones. (- from work, get your head out of the gutter, you sinners) perfect for cuddling. He quickly dismissed those thoughts. WHAT was WITH HIM today. He really did work himself down to the bone. And he also had the perfect reply. If she wanted a pun, she would get it.

“Heh if you wanted to jump my bones that bad kid, buy me some dinner first," Why on earth did he say that! ugh. "Say Grillby, how about some burgers.” sais said, asking his friend who is shaking his head at him before retreating to fetch the goods. Grillby knows what he wants, it’s the same that he always gets so he has no problem with being that vague. If he wanted something else he would have said so.

His Niece took his place, tending to the bar now. She is usually the waitress of the place, delivering food to other tables but at times like these, she mans the bar. She was pretty cute for a flame monster, but not his type. Plus if he did date her and it ended, he would never be able to step into Grillby’s ever again.

He imagines Grillby chasing him, throwing fireballs at him. Good old gribbly. He probably would do that too.

He glances down at the human and her red flushed face, hiding behind your hands, hiding away from view. Humans are strange, he thought and let out a deep chuckle. It was almost fun in a way to see how much she can take, even if that wasn’t his original intentions. He didn’t even have any! Other than the pure curiosity of a new person at his favourite bar, a human nonetheless who is monster friendly? He could probably check on her soul, but he was feeling lazy plus would be rude. If she’s here then she doesn’t hate them at least that was good enough reason not to look. Not because his soul was acting funny earlier. He went back to his bottle, forcing himself to look away.

Though he did Notice Fuku, placing the humans drink back before walking away tending to other customers, though seems like the human didn’t notice as she was hiding behind her hands. Plus Fuku was quiet in placing it down. He probably wouldn’t have noticed either if he wasn’t watching.

“So..,” he spoke, looking back the human. “ sorry if I made you jump out your skin” He really did feel a bit sorry. Even if her reaction was amusing, it probably wasn’t all too nice to be jump scared while relaxing at a bar.

“Oh uh, it’s N-n no worries r-really, It’s just never seen a skellington monster in the flesh before is all.” She said, almost sounding like Alphys and how she is. The stuttering and the fast talking. That’s cute that she is nervous. No Sans delete that though!. What was with him! Now he is starting to wonder if something is his Ketchup. And she waved her hands, hoping not to offend him. Which he wasn’t. They're really weren’t other monsters like him and Papyrus after all. So even the people who liked monsters would still get intimidated.

Oh god, another pun!

She spoke again, sounding a lot less nervous this time, “I guess I just spooped by a scary skellington aye?” She joked.

He couldn't keep his grin from, not saying anything for the moment as he burst out with laughter. “I guess ya did,” He said in between bits of laughter, throwing his head back. Oh man, she got him good. He knew of the song she was referencing. That always earned a chuckle from him. It was somewhat of a guilty pleasure when he first discovered it. Still is.

“You’re an alright kid,” he said, his shoulders and ribs still shuddering with laughter. “Anyway, I’m sans, sans the skellington” he held out his hand for the human to shake. He brought out his whoopie cushion in the hand trick like he does with everyone new. Was the best way to break the ice and tell who was dealing with. That is how it was back in the underground. But in this situation, was just for laughs. The human put her device away and grabbing hold of his hand to shake, only for her to pause when the far rippled out of the whoopie cushion, he could see the blush coming back, but this time with a vengeance.

“Omfg” is all she said as she doubled over in laughter, still holding his hand.

If your face could be any redder right now, you would. “Omfg,” You said out loud before you could stop yourself, doubling over from laughter.

“Ahh the hand whoopie cushion trick, gets people every time,” he said more to himself, letting his hand fall to his side as she let go still gigging away and trying to compose herself. He reached for his drink as she mimicked the same movements getting hers and had a synchronized sip. Though was only now he realised how low the bottle was getting. Not that it mattered, Grillby would bring out another when he brings out the food. Which shouldn’t be too much longer?

“I’m [y/n], [y/n] the human,” She did, following the same wording he used. Heh, Strange how people always do that. But it was simple and to the point.

He smiled back at her, chuckling as he spoke.“I don’t know, I’d you’re fun-sized” he replied, quickly and also turned away as he heard the doors he knows too well open. Man, he could Outcomes Grillby with a large burger for him along with the second bottle of ketchup on his plate.

On smaller plate Grillby is holding, he has a normal sized burger. Human-sized compared that giant burger on the other plate, it just made it look so Small!. Now That’s cute. He allowed himself to have that thought at least. It would have been Bite-sized nibble for him. A snack if you will.

The food was placed down in front of him, making a loud clunk as it meets the hardwood of the bar. How could it not? It was a large burger so it weighed quite a bit. He almost loled out his tongue to the side from the way it looks.

“There you go, oh and no need to pay for the burger, it’s on the house” Grillby crackled at the human as she rushed to make a grab for her wallet to pay for the burger. He would actually pay Grillby for that one and not have that on his tab. He could be nice sometimes. But seeing your face light up as you see the burger, that is al the payment he needed, and I think Grillby could agree to that too as he noticed out of the corner of his vision, Grillby smiling away as Grillby’s flames flare up. How could he not notice a small burst of light?

Thanks, Grillby, you’re the best!” She said as Grillby nodded in satisfaction of a happy customer before going back to the other end making drinks and taking orders.

Want some ketchup?” He asked her while not breaking eye contact with his burger as he offered her the bottle towards her in question. Might as well seeing as it would be emptied on the glorious burger that was calling his name soon. If she wanted some, now was the only time he would offer.

“No thanks bone man, I’m having this burger how it meant to be,” was her reply, he chuckled and said “Suit yourself ” under his breath, bringing the bottle back towards him now that offer was refused. Popping the lid off easily pouring the heavenly liquid over his burger, drenching it and the smell of the burger and ketchup filled his nose cavity. Making him shudder a bit but he did to suppress it. Oh and he almost missed the pun. Heh. Bone man. She wasn’t wrong. And if he wasn’t distracted by the burger right now his thoughts would have wandered into nsfw realm.

But when he was eating the burger, his thoughts might as well have been in the nsfw kind, Even if only it was just for the food he was eating right now. He wasn’t paying much attention to the human beside him not for a while until he heard a purr coming from beside him.

He didn't know humans could .. Purr? He finished up his burger quickly, pausing time for a minute, much like he did with frisk in what seems forever ago as he cleaned up his plate, not leaving a single trace of the burger and licking his finger bones clean with his blue thick, long tongue and then he cleaned the plate in the same fashion. He would never waste ketchup, not this kind. Plus during this time he can as primal as he wants to say like cleaning the plate till it’s spotless. He doesn’t use this trick often as he does prefer time to move forward but for moments like these… He unpaused time like a pop. as everything turned back to normal. And during that time he thought of a purrfect pun.

“No kitten’ about these burgers being good aye?”He says, looking at the human still eating their small burger. Though it looked massive in her hands, even with half of it gone. He heard her hum in response as she can’t talk right now, not that he expected one just yet. He also noticed the human squinting at him like ‘ seriously?’ and turning back to take a big bite out of it, with juices running down her fingers the more she dug into it trying to finish the burger which Honestly did not take that long at all.

Heh, Even humans can’t resist shoving his Burgers down. They were just That good.

“Hehe yeah, that burger was purr-fection” She finally managed to say after having the final bite of the heavenly food.

She even punned back with a related pun, If he didn't already have a favourite human right now you would be next in line. That’s if he knew you of course. Which he didn’t. But the reaction to the burger says anything is that you will return here. He feels himself feel a bit happier at the thought.

He had to look away as She started licking her fingers now, getting the last of the burger juices that ran down her small hands Much like him… except he froze time to do so… His lewd thoughts coming back to haunt him. He forced them away very quickly. He was not about to do That to someone he just meets! That would be rude. But fuck he hasn’t had any action in a while. He was left bone dry for god knows how long. But he was never this bad. Maybe he should cut his work hours for a while, take a break. Yeah. That would work. It wouldn't but he hopes so.

He KNOWS it won’t but he is too much denial now to care about logic. Just excuses.

Yet still, he opened his mouth to make a pun.

“Could say it’s finger licking good”, He is looking at the female, cleaning off her fingers with an innocent doe look on her face with her fingers in that mouth…

He Felt his SOUL thump in his chest. He can’t be in denial now, yet he still is. He refused to believe that was significant nope. He was going to be stubborn about this and he didn't care. Nor did he knew what it meant. And… he didn’t want too. Whatever it is. He has a feeling it won’t go away,

He was shocked and hoped to the gods no one had heard it because he felt it. And it felt Big . Momentary letting his concentration of holding back the blush that he was fighting, flater for a second. The blush returning with a hint of blue glow on his cheeks. It was only for split second but that was enough. He hopes to god you didn’t see it. Nor the shudder he which rattled his bones had when he met your eyes with his own.

What on earth did he get himself into?

┗(＾0＾) ┓ Back to the present ┏(＾0＾)┛

He blinked as he brought himself back to the present, blushing once again. And don't think what happened after she left, as he stayed until Papyrus called him to come home, worried about him and also wanted to be read a bedtime story as always. Bless Papyrus may he forever be innocent. Though he knows that is a foolish notion, he still tries his best for his bro and his innocence. And Also be the best bro ever to his Bro that was The freakin coolest.

‘Get a grip’ he thought as he got up for the day throwing his ketchup-stained comforter off him ( half of it falling to the floor, half holding onto the bed for dear life. Poor comforter ). He threw on his classic blue hoodie not bothering to zip it up, and slipping into his fluffy pink slippers which in all honesty need replacing. Maybe he would if he found an identical pair. But today is not that day.

With a wave of his hand, the door that was locked now has opened and he walked out of his room, locking his door in the same manner when he opened it, casually walking down the stairs into the lounge where Pappy was sitting, eating Waffles with honey and watching Some human Tv program. It was still pretty early so had to be cartoons.

‘ Heh only baby bones watch those, but paps will always be a baby bones to me ’ he thought as he looked at his brother.

“AHH SANS YOU ARE UP! I AM SURPRISED, BUT!, GO AND EAT THE BREAKFAST OF CHAMPIONS” With a Nyeh heh heh in between bites of the fluffy crunchy goodness that is Waffles.

They smell pretty good, and nothing smells burnt. Yep, he would grab some. Makes a nice change from the breakfast pasta that he had yesterday. Not that his bro pasta was bad anymore since he learned how to cook, but still Pasta that early in the morning? Not quite his thing.

“Careful not to waffle them down to quick Paps”

Papyrus blinked for second before realizing there was a pun.

“SANS!”

He laughed before grabbing himself a serving, throwing some ketchup on his, drenching it like he did with his burgers. “Don't worry paps, I’m just butter- ing you up” He winked at his bro as he looked at the butter placed on the table, along with some honey. “PLEASE NO MORE PUNS, I SWEAR SANS YOU’LL LOSE YOUR WAFFLE PRIVILEGES, NYEH HEH HEH. ALSO, IT’S NICE SEEING YOU UP EARLY FOR A CHANGE” Papyrus shouted, though Sans knew he wasn’t serious. He wouldn’t dare take away his waffles, not since they are tinted in beautiful red ketchup. And he could almost see Papyrus smiling, even though he pretends to hate the puns. He loves them deep down. And he was up earlier than he normally would. He didn't see as a big deal. He just had a good night sleep is all and shrugged it off.

“The situation in the here is so terrible that it's going from batter to waffle.”

This only made the skinner skeleton madder. SO mad that he fighting off a huge grin on his face and losing.

“SANS!” he shouted at him much louder than he usually was as he turned towards him. He winks at pap, waffling the waffles down, heh, before paps could take back the ketch covered delights. Papyrus grabbed the closest thing to him which was the cushion and threw it at his head.

It bounced off his skull and onto the floor.

Both Skeletons stared at the object in question.

“I am not picking that up”

. . .

“IF YOU WON’T NEITHER WILL I, YOU TOUCHED IT LAST BROTHER AND I, PAPYRUS, I WOULD RATHER IT NOT TURN INTO ANOTHER SOCK LIKE DEBOBKLE”. Papyrus said, getting up from his seat and almost jogging to the kitchen, putting his plate in the sink to be washed. Sans would do the dishes later after since Pappy Cooked the meals and He, he cleaned. He may be lazy, but he does the dishes every time without fail. Manners are important, even for the lazy skeleton such as himself. He stares at the cushion that is on the floor. He thought he might just put a post-it note on it. Maybe next time, he was too lazy for it now. He picked it up and tossed it back onto the couch.

____(time skip)____

Sans sat at the counter at one of many jobs. Not like he needed them. Their gold and crystal that are from the underground has given them plenty of money to sit on for awhile. But work was nice, even if it was little boring. Was amusing to see humans reactions. Though not as great as that human he meets at Grillby. They paled in comparison to her.

Oh and he was also allowed to sit - not just because he was lazy, though that might be half the reason, - It was because he was pretty tall, and sitting down was a bit less intimidating than standing.

There were no customers as of yet, but it was just before the huge lunch rush, so he had some time to himself and looked at his phone, which looked small in his hands. He might just get an upgrade to get a bigger phone, though he could always ask Alphy’s to do it for him.

He scrolled through social media and the monster equivalent of those sights, seeing a few familiar faces here and there pop up. A few news articles peeking his interest. Some… not as much. He skipped over those until he had a message from Papyrus. That was not usual at all. Papy did text him a bit through the day to make sure he’s actually working.

From COOLDUDE, “SANS I HOPE YOU’RE WORKING, ALSO I NEED TO ASK YOU A FEW QUESTIONS WHEN GIVEN THE CHANCE. - PAPYRUS”

He even shouted in his texts. Even in the virtual world Papyrus was a loud person. But Him asking him questions? Now that was unusual, even for him. But he would humour him. Besides, he still had another 10 minutes to go before people would be left off work. Unfortunately for him, he was not one of them.

From Skellington, “hey paps, yeah i’m working down to the bone, heh. ask away”

Other than asking if he’s working, papyrus never does unless he’s planning something. It was nowhere near where his Birthday. So couldn’t be that. It must be something else. A small ‘ ping’ sound sounded from his phone as he got a reply.

From COOLDUDE, “SANS!! STOP WITH THE PUNS!!! ANYWAY, *COUGHS* AS I AM YOUR BROTHER IT HAS COME TO MY ATTENTION THAT YOU GOT UP WHEN I ONLY ASKED AND I ONLY ASKED ONCE! IT CAME AS A SURPRISE AS THAT IS NOT NORMAL! AND PUT ON A CLEAN JACKET!”

So he noticed? Heh, even he didn’t notice that. Papyrus was right, he never usually ventures out from his from his room until like the third or forth yell with some loud knocking at his door which usually ended up being a knock-knock joke.

He completely missed doing so. No wonder paps were surprised earlier this morning.

He quickly typed a reply before putting his phone away and putting it on silent as he quietly prepared for the masses.

From Skellington, “it’s nothing to worry about paps, and sometimes I make the effort to look nice and cool like you bro.”

Short Papyrus p.o.v

He was staring at the ad that popped up on his feed that said “ matchMaker/ wingwoman for hire- the price for my services? Just a meal or two! Contact me with the details below… (phone number and email here along with other details of matching and what it means… also is Monster friendly) ” and then looking at his dating book beside him sitting on his desk by his Computer remembering a few lessons and tips for how to date for when he had a ‘date’ with Frisk...

He Pondered for a moment, looking at his phone reading His Brother’s reply.

It all made sense. Getting up early! Wearing Nicer clothing - least for his brother’s standards. Which in this case went way past those standards!

His brother Sans, might be dating someone! OF COURSE. He should have known!

Well fear no Brother! I THE GREAT PAPYRUS Shall help you out!, Nyeh Heh Heh! ... Heh!” He said to himself, putting the number down from the ad into his phone, eager to message this person of “winging” and “matchmaking’. He might even learn a thing a two. Besides this was for the good of his brother! And he would do anything to help and since the ad helped him put ‘2 + 2’ together, he would ask for the help of a fellow human!

From COOLDUDE, “HELLO HUMAN OF MATCHMAKING AND ‘WINGNESS’ OF WOMAN! I HAVE AN ENQUIRY TO MAKE AND WHAT IS YOUR FAVOURITE FOOD?"

#undertale fic #undertale #reader #reader insert #MatchMaker

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