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skzhocomments · 11 days

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The Five Stages of Grief - Bang Chan Oneshot Fanfic

(And a second cover because I couldn't decide)

General Masterlist

Pairing: Bang Chan (Stray Kids) x OC/Reader (Story is written in 2nd person, no name is mentioned)

Genre: angst

Word Count: ~10k

Warnings: death, devastatingly sad, mentions of self-harm, suicidal thoughts. No comfort, although it does end in a positive note. Ending is hopeful if you squint.

This is just a story that doesn’t describe Bang Chan or other mentioned Stray Kids’ members true characters in any way. It’s just a product of my imagination and should be treated as such.

This story is also on Wattpad (click here) and AO3 (click here)

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A/N: As any other writer out there, I would appreciate reblogs and your comments on this story. Please let me know if you enjoyed it, and most importantly, have fun!

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The Five Stages of Grief

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“Hey Channie!” You entered his studio with a smile plastered on your face, that soon enough turned into a frown when you noticed your boyfriend of almost 5 years hasn’t even acknowledged your presence.

He tended to do that a lot, especially when working on new comebacks. His whole focus was on that damn computer which you were sure by now was your life-sworn enemy. It’s hard having to compete with a screen to get your boyfriend’s attention, but such was life sometimes, and there was nothing you could do about it.

You knew the risks that came with dating an idol, you just didn’t know how much worse it could be if you were to date a workaholic, perfectionist idol.

This was Chan.

He spent hours and hours and hours cramped in his small studio, perfecting beats, arranging vocals, switching up different rhythms and trying to figure out what could work out and have the most success between his fans.

“Have you eaten?” You asked, kissing his cheek, and only then did he notice you’re there, and pulled out his headphones.

“Oh, hi. Didn’t see you come in.” Was all he said, his face scrunched in concentration. “Did you say something?”

“Just asked if you’ve had dinner yet.”

He must’ve, right? It was well past 11 pm, but one of his bad habits was working himself to death, and more often than not, he would skip meal times entirely simply because he wasn’t good at keeping track of time.

“I had a protein bar earlier.” He shrugged.

“Want me to order you something? Or even better, why don’t we both head home?” You asked with a smile, trying to be convincing enough for your boyfriend.

It usually worked.

He would normally laugh off your attempts to be nice and realise that you’re just trying to take care of him, and he would comply and go home with you for the night, then resume his work the next day.

Once you’d be home, he would crash immediately, proof of how tired he’d been and how much he’d ignored his body’s needs. His sheer determination was scary.

However, none of this happened tonight. He rolled his eyes and muttered a small “There she goes again.”

You played it off, though, realising he probably didn’t mean for you to hear that. Brave on his part, you thought, in such a small quiet studio.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You asked, your tone still friendly, as if you were joking with him.

What you didn’t expect was for him to turn his whole chair towards you, his expression angrier than you’ve ever seen him.

“You heard me. God, it’s so frustrating having you come here all the time bossing me around. Eat! Sleep! Stop working! Can’t you see I’m busy?!” He ranted, pointing towards his computer screen.

“Wow, sorry, Mr. Busy.” You chuckled, despite being slightly angry with his words.

He doesn’t mean them. You told yourself. This is another one of his bad habits: bursting out and speaking cruel words whenever he’s extremely stressed and has tight deadlines. It hadn’t happened often, only a handful of times in your years long relationship, but it hurt nonetheless whenever it did.

“And there you go mocking me.” He rolled his eyes at you. “It’s like you don’t even care about the work I’m doing.”

“It’s not that, Chan. You know how much I value your work, it’s just-”

“Yeah, bullshit.” He laughs. “If you would, you’d stop barging in here demanding things from me when you know I have stuff to do.”

“Hey, I know you had a tough couple of days with the comeback and all, but there’s no need for you to take it out on my like this.” You crossed your arms in front of your chest, this time feeling genuinely upset. It’s like he’s escalating it on purpose.

“No, it’s not just a tough couple of days. Don’t you get it? You do this shit all the time, and I’m frankly sick and tired of it. Can’t you just leave me be for once and stop being so controlling?”

“Controlling?” You asked, baffled. “How am I controlling, huh? By making sure you eat and sleep when you’re supposed to?”

“How do you even know what I’m supposed to do?! You always think you know best, but you never fucking consider any of my needs and wants.”

“Literally everything I do is fucking consider your needs, Chan.” You answered coldly.

“No. You’re just too deep in your head and can’t fucking figure out when to back down, so I’m telling you. Stop telling me what to do and leave me alone if I’m busy. God, I don’t need this shit.”

He mumbled the last sentence and put his headphones back in, turning his attention back to the screen.

Maybe you shouldn’t have done what you did next, but he hurt you, and you didn’t like the way your conversation apparently ended. You wanted to know what he meant, so you grabbed his headphones’ wire and pulled them out of his ears forcefully.

The way he turned to you and the look he threw you almost made your blood freeze, but you were far too upset to care about upsetting him anymore.

“What exactly don’t you need, huh? What is this shit, exactly?!” You gestured with your hands.

“You can’t fucking let it go, can you?” He laughed in a baffled way.

“No, unless you tell me what this shit is.”

“This. Us. Everything. I’m really fucking done with how overbearing you’re being. I was doing fine before I met you, and I sure as hell do just fine without you over my head every fucking minute of the day.”

“Oh, is that so?” You asked, expressionless.

He hurt you, but by his anger still present on his features, you realised it’s all pointless. You’re not going to see eye to eye tonight.

“Do you want to break up?” You let out, the words burning your tongue, and Chan’s eyes widen.

“What? No! Fuck, you twist my words.” He sighs, exasperated. “Just leave. Let’s talk about it tomorrow.”

When he doesn’t say anything else, you let out a shaky breath and watch him put his headphones back in.

“Oh, and this?” He starts, pointing to one end of the headphones. “Never do this shit again.”

You watch silently how he turns his chair to look back at the damn screen, without caring that you’re still there in the room.

The discussion is over.

“I see. Fine. I’ll go.” You let out, tears beginning to spill down your cheeks. He didn’t see them, and it felt like he didn’t even care that he’s made you cry.

You quietly made your way out of the room, your sight too blurry to see anything, and you headed home.

---

Denial

---

Chan’s eyes are beginning to sting painfully, and after rubbing them and checking the time, he figures out why.

It’s way over 5 AM when he decides to finally leave the studio, and although it’s still dark out, the streets are already starting to get filled with people hurrying to whatever painful morning shift they are scheduled for.

It takes him about 20 minutes to get back to your shared apartment, and when he does, nothing seems unusual at first.

The house is expectedly quiet, it being so early in the morning, and he already imagines how deep in sleep you must be by now.

He feels guilty for how he treated you, that he let the anger consume him once again, and he regrets it. He always regrets it when he lets stress get the better of him.

As he heads towards the bathroom to wash the harsh day off his skin, he starts thinking about how he could make it up to you. Should he buy you flowers and bring you breakfast in bed in 4 hours when you’ll most likely get up?

Although he hasn’t slept at all.

Should he take you out on a date after he’s well rested? There was this restaurant you mentioned a couple of times that you wanted to try, but he didn’t have enough time to take you there to eat yet, not with all the planned comebacks and the work that keeps piling up.

Maybe tomorrow is finally the day.

He finishes his shower and rubs his eyes again, and God, how tired he is, just as usual when he pulls out all-nighters. Everything seems ordinary, but as he opens the bedroom door, however, something is unusual.

You are not there.

Confused, he takes out his phone to check for any messages you might’ve sent him, but upon noticing there’s no new notifications, he throws the phone on the bed, screen down, defeated.

Did you really think he wants to break up? Did you finally have enough and left him?

He knows he treated you badly tonight, but he thought it’s just a small drop in an ocean of happiness. Arguments are unavoidable, unfortunately, and he can’t always be the perfectly composed man he’s striving to become.

Would you really leave after a couple of cruel words he didn’t even mean? He starts asking himself as he gets into bed. Surely you know how much he loves and needs you there for him. It was just a bad night, that’s all.

Maybe you just wanted some space, and decided to head to a friend, or to a hotel or something.

He thinks about calling you, but with how late it is – or rather, how early – he knows he’d just disturb you or any of your friends you would’ve gone to if he were to call.

He decides to go to sleep instead and figure it all out tomorrow morning, when his mind is clearer, and when you’ve both had enough time to cool down.

His head is pounding with pain as he opens his eyes and feels multiple pulsations against all sides of his skull.

This is the worst migraine he’s ever had, and he realises how right you were when trying to convince him to go to sleep early. He really needed more sleep.

He grabs his phone to check the time, and when he does, he sees it’s flooding with notifications. His manager called him about a dozen times, starting at 8 AM and continuing up until 15 minutes ago, and he has multiple missed calls and messages from all the members.

Ugh, it’s only 10.

Did I have a schedule I’ve forgotten about? He wonders, rubbing his eyes confused, but checking the date, he knows it’s his day off.

He decides to head to the bathroom and freshen up, while picking up his phone and dialling his manager’s number.

He reaches the bathroom and puts toothpaste on his brush, and by the time the phone rang two times, his manager picks up.

“Chan! Where are you?” He asks, his voice hurried. “Why haven’t you picked up?”

He begins lazily brushing his teeth and checks the date again, and sure enough, it’s his free day. There’s nothing in his schedule.

“Huh? What do you mean?” He asks, his voice still ridden with sleep, still tired from the lack of rest. “It’s my day off.”

“Are you at home?”

“Yes. Where else?”

“Good. That’s… okay. Have you talked to anyone yet?”

“No…? You’re acting weird. What’s going on?”

“Listen, Chan. Something… something bad happened. I need you to sit down for a moment, okay?”

“Okay...?” Chan nods absent-mindedly, continuing to brush his teeth, oblivious about what’s coming.

“Last night… God, I don’t even know how to break this to you, so I’ll just say it. Do note that the company will do its best to assist you and-”

“Cut to the chase. What’s wrong?” Chris asks, starting to get worried. He finishes brushing his teeth, and just as he prepares to put the toothbrush down, his manager’s next words make him drop it to the floor instead.

“Your girlfriend passed away last night. She was hit by a drunk driver on a crosswalk, and although an ambulance got there in less than 2 minutes, she was already… I’m sorry.”

The line falls silent as Chan tries to process what his manager just said. The only sound in the room is made by the toothbrush hitting the bathroom’s white floor tiles.

Chan heard wrong. There’s no other explanation.

“That can’t be.” He dismisses his manager completely. “She was just with me in the studio last night, and then she came-”

Home. But you weren’t home.

“She must’ve gone to a hotel or something.”

“Chan… I’m truly, truly sorry. As I said, we’re going to support you through this tough time with everything we’ve got.”

What tough time? Chan wants to ask but stays silent instead.

He picks the discarded toothbrush from the floor and throws it away. How careless he’s been, dropping it.

He wants to chuckle at his stupidity, and he can’t wait to tell you about it. You’re going to nag him again for being careless and dropping things. This is the 3rd toothbrush he’s changing this month.

“Oh, God! Again?” He can already picture you with an amused expression on your face, your arms crossed. “You’re always dropping stuff on the floor!”

The thought brings the ghost of a smile on his face, and he starts wondering again where you might be. Surely your manager is mistaken.

“Her parents tried getting in touch with you, but they said you didn’t pick up. You should give them a call.” His manager continues to say. “From what they’ve told us, the funeral will be held tomorrow morning. JYPE offered to pay for all expenses. Anyways, this must be too much information to swallow for now, so I’ll come pick you up in 20 minutes and we can go to the company together. The rest of the boys are already here.”

“Okay, see you in 20 minutes.” Chan replies, not really understanding what’s happening.

He ignores the countless missed calls and messages and opens his call history to dial your number instead.

It goes straight to voice mail.

“Hello! You’ve called… wait, am I doing this correctly?”You chuckled, asking him with an unsure look on your face.

“Yes. The beep-”

“Oh, right! Thanks for calling, please leave your message after the beep. Okay, bye~!” You cheerfully said, ending the recording with a small laugh.

“Are you going to keep it like that?” He asked amused.

“Why not? It’s straight to the point!”

“You left my voice in it, though.”

“Oh, does it bother you? I can record again if you want me to.”

“No, no need. I just – isn’t it a bit weird?” He chuckled. “You even forgot to say your name.”

“Whatever.” You waved a dismissive hand in the air. “If they called my number, they know who they’re calling.”

“Fair enough.” He laughed.

‘Hello! You’ve called… wait, am I doing this correctly?

Yes. The beep-

Oh, right! Thanks for calling, please leave your message after the beep. Okay, bye~!’

He chuckles absent-mindedly at the memory of him teaching you how to record a message redirecting your callers to leave a voice mail. You’ve never been good at technology.

“Hi, babe. Can you please call me? I need to talk to you.” He says, deciding to leave a message, even though he isn’t convinced that you’ll get to hear it. You usually forget to check your voice mail.

He tries calling again, just for good measure.

‘Hello! You’ve called… wait, am I doing this correctly?’

Yes. The beep-

Oh, right! Thanks for-‘

And again.

‘Hello! You’ve called… wait, am I doing this correctly’?

Yes. The beep-‘

And again.

‘Hello! You’ve called… wait, am I doing this correctly?’

Yes.’

‘Hello! You’ve called…’

‘Hello!’

He throws his phone on the bed exasperated. Why aren’t you picking up?

You didn’t even come home last night, why is your phone turned off?

Do you want to somehow punish him for being cruel and make him worry?

He shakes his head confused and begins changing his clothes from the comfortable pyjamas to an appropriate enough outfit to go to the company.

It should be a crime to have to go so early in the morning anywhere on your day off.

When he’s done and he looks somewhat presentable, he picks his phone back up and dials your number again.

‘Hello! You’ve called-’

He cancels the call just when he hears a knock on his door, and opening it, his manager is looking at him sombrely.

“Hi.” Chris speaks first, but his manager doesn’t say anything. He just pulls him into a hug that lasts way too long, Chan thinks.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.” He finally says after pulling away.

Chan doesn’t know what to reply, so he opts to just stay silent. His manager’s words don’t register in his head anyway; maybe he’s still tired.

He did go to sleep way too late.

They head to the car, and although the ride to the company only lasts 20 minutes or so, the 20 minutes feel like an eternity.

It’s just as his manager said, and everyone else is already at the company. When he sees the boys, they come rushing to him, their faces tear-stained and their clothes black.

“Oh, Chris…” Felix hugs him tightly and starts crying, and Chan starts comforting him by patting his back a few times.

A few tears escape past his eyes as well by seeing all the boys so gloomy, but he still doesn’t seem to be able to wrap his hand around it.

“Her parents said the wake is taking place at their house, so that’s where we’re headed now. I thought it’s better for you to not go alone.” His manager blurts out.

Chris looks dejected for a few seconds, before taking out his phone again and dialling the familiar number. This time, he types it himself. He knows it by heart.

With a shaky hand, he puts it against his ear and waits to connect.

‘Hello! You’ve called… wait, am I doing this correctly?

Yes. The beep-

Oh, right! Thanks for calling, please leave your message after the beep. Okay, bye~!’

It makes no sense.

You couldn’t possibly… have died.

You are so young. You have so many plans and so many things you still want to do.

He is supposed to apologize to you and pamper you the whole day just to make up to you for being an asshole last night. He is supposed to take you to that restaurant you’ve been bugging him about for weeks.

You can’t possibly be gone, just like that.

Your parents embrace Chris as soon as he steps through the door. They’re sobbing loudly, and there are so many people present – some, he recognises: old friends from middle school you’ve shown him pictures of, some other colleagues from university, some coworkers he had the pleasure of meeting at the last Christmas party held by your company, a few family members…

There are also many people he doesn’t recognise; people your age, and Chan gets reminded once again of how young you are, with your whole life ahead.

He shakes his head once he notices a coffin on the large table in your parents’ living room; the same table you’ve both ate at just two weeks ago when you’ve last visited.

“My baby, Chris is here to see you.” Your mother cries, approaching the coffin and pulling his hand to guide him towards it as well.

It’s closed shut, and on top of it, your picture stares at him with a happy smile. You are so beautiful; he’s always loved this picture of yours. He’s the one who took it, just after you’ve graduated Uni and he handed you a big bouquet of your favourite flowers, rose peonies. You said your eyes wrinkled in a weird way, and never liked it, but he absolutely adored it. It’s been his wall screen ever since.

The coffin is made of dark polished mahogany, and its lid is adorned with golden handles.

You can’t possibly be in there.

Although beautiful, how could such a small coffin hold the large essence of your soul?

It makes no sense whatsoever.

Your parents’ cries seem real enough, though.

He touches the top of the coffin and wonders why it’s closed. Why would it be closed, when you are so gorgeous? People should see you, not a simple picture.

He decides it must be because you’re simply not in it. Or if you are hiding in there, maybe it’s all a joke and you’re going to open it from the inside and yell Surprise!, shocking everyone in the room and making your mother faint. It’s something you’d do.

So, he waits.

He waits, and waits, and waits, and his feet grow tired and his back starts aching after so many hours on his feet. People come and go, paying respects, patting his shoulders and trying to make some small talk, talking about you in past tense.

“She was such a wonderful person.”

“She was so full of life.”

“Her laugh was so intoxicating.”

“Her work ethic was admirable.”

“She was so smart.”

He listens and nods to each of their words. They are right. You are a smart, wonderful person, you are full of life, your laugh is the best thing he’s ever heard. He’s wished more often than not to record it and put it in one of his tracks, but every time he’d mentioned it, you called him silly.

By the time your father brings him a chair and places it next to the coffin so he can sit down instead of standing, it’s already night out.

“You should get some rest, Chris. I’ll stay with her.” He tells him, placing his strong hand on Chan’s shoulder as to attract his attention, but Chan just shakes his head.

How could he go sleep when you might decide any time to wake up?

Would you panic, with the lid closed and all? You’ve always been claustrophobic. Why is it closed, anyway?

It’s already morning when one of your relatives approaches Chris and urges him to get out of the living room to change his clothes.

They’ve brought him a white suit at the request of your father; wedding attire, since you didn’t get the chance to get married before you passed.

He is reluctant to put on the white pants and uncomfortable suit jacket, but he does it anyway. Your mother cries when she sees him, and your father pats his shoulder and thanks him for doing this.

The priest comes, and a lot of your friends visit your home again, to lead you on your last journey, apparently.

It takes the priest about half an hour to finish praying for your soul, and then your coffin is loaded in the back of a hearse. The car moves slow enough for everyone to be able to follow, and Chris is walking right behind it, next to your parents. Felix is behind him with Lee Know and Changbin, and the rest of the boys are somewhere far back. He sticks out like a sore thumb, dressed in all white while everyone else is wearing black.

Each time the car passes next to important places in your life, the hearse stops and people throw coins on the ground. They pass by your kindergarten and your old school, and with each step, your mother cries harder. Your father tries his best to stay composed, but even he bursts into tears when your mother starts talking about your life and what a happy kid you were.

Chris doesn’t shed a tear. He follows the hearse blindly, and when it reaches the cemetery, he watches as his members take out the coffin and place it on the ground next to a large, freshly dug hole.

The priest begins a final prayer, and soon enough, he watches how the coffin disappears inside the hole. People start throwing soil and flowers. He doesn’t know how a couple of roses get in his hands, but he begins throwing them one by one on top of the coffin that keeps getting lowered down.

You’ve never liked roses that much. You like peonies. Why did someone hand him roses?

There is also some music – hymns, or the sorts. Something you wouldn’t like. He doesn’t like it either.

A few moments later, some people begin covering the coffin in dirt, and he watches the scene expressionless. It gets covered fairly quickly. People start crying even harder, and his ears start ringing.

He feels sick to his stomach, so he decides to take a few steps back as soon as the whole gets filled to the brim with the freshly dug soil.

“I can’t believe she’s truly gone. She was so young!” He hears a woman say from somewhere behind him. He doesn’t bother turning his head to check if he knows her or not.

“Right? We were talking just yesterday morning at work about going shopping this weekend.” Another woman replies in a quiet tone.

“They didn’t even open the casket.”

“How could they? Didn’t you hear how she passed?”

“No! What even happened?”

“She was apparently crossing the road and a car came out of nowhere, hitting her with more than 200 km/h. It threw her like 30 metres in the air.”

“Oh my God! I heard it was a car accident, but this…”

“Yeah! It’s insane. There was barely anything left of her… only shattered bones and flesh, nothing resembling a human.”

“Shh, what if someone hears you say that?!” The other woman tried to silence the first one.

After hearing these details, Chris feels even sicker.

He wants to throw up.

“Son, we are going to the reception now. Do you want to come with us in our car?” Your father approaches him, and Chris simply nods.

He hugs him for a few seconds, and then they wait for your mother to come, and the ride to the restaurant is filled with her sobs while your father and Chan remain expressionless.

He sits at a table next to your parents. Felix is on his left, and the rest of the boys and other members of JYPE are sitting nearby.

There is an empty space to his right, and in front of it, the table is full of your favourite foods, snacks and drinks.

His eyes are stuck on that empty seat.

“Wow, they really brought me a lot.” You chuckle, looking at Chris with your head supported by your right hand, your elbow against the table. “How am I supposed to eat all of this?”

He watches the scene stunned.

“What’s wrong, baby? Why the long face?” You ask, the smile on your face wider, raising a hand to caress his cheek.

The next time Chris blinks, you’re gone.

The seat is empty.

The boys insist that Chan comes with them to the dorms, or that at least some of them come home with him.

“It’s not good to be alone.” Hyunjin says sympathetically, and Chris simply shakes his head.

What if you come back home tired and want to rest, but the boys are there visiting? He asks himself. It wouldn’t be fair to you.

So, he goes home alone, after much bargaining with them that he needs some time on his own.

The silence that greets him once he opens the door to your shared apartment is deafening.

He first goes to the bedroom to check if you’re back yet, but the sheets stay as empty as when he woke up two days ago, so he pulls out his phone to dial your number again.

‘Hello! You’ve called… wait, am I doing this correctly?

Yes. The beep-

Oh, right! Thanks for calling, please leave your message after the beep. Okay, bye~!’

The beep sound follows soon after, and he begins talking.

“Babe, I know you’re mad at me. I was wrong. I’m sorry. It’s time to come back home now. Please?”

A second beep follows, signalling that the time to record his message is over, so he ends the call. He ignores the countless notifications piling up on his screen, all the Condolences messages he’s been receiving, and he places the phone in his pocket and starts making the bed.

“Wow, well done, Channie! I’m impressed!” He can almost hear you chuckling, and turns his head towards the door, fully expecting you to be there laughing at him and praising him for doing the bare minimum, but there’s no one there.

Once the bed is made, he heads towards the living room. A half empty glass of water is on the table, its margins stained by your lipstick, next to a plate full of breadcrumbs.

Tsk, how messy. He rolls his eyes, knowing exactly why you haven’t cleaned up. You must’ve eaten in a rush again, this bad habit of yours.

You’re always complaining about stomach aches, but you keep eating on the go while getting ready for work in the morning, and never enjoy your meals.

He takes a picture of the crime scene and opens his phone again, shooting you a text.

“Forgot to clean up?” He asks, then attaches the picture of the plate and glass.

He knows you’ll probably laugh and start excusing yourself once you see it. If he were to check his gallery, half the pictures are surely of the dirty plates you simply forget about on the table.

Chris always washes them, but never fails to remind you of it.

This time, too, he takes the plate and glass to the sink and turns on the hot water. He rubs the plate with a dish sponge with way too much dish soap on it, and he hears your voice in the back of his head again:

“My, Channie! You’re so wasteful! You only need a drop. A single drop!!! What are you using so much dish soap for???”

He starts laughing as he grabs the glass and throws the half-drunk water out, but before washing it, he notices the lipstick stains again. He smiles to himself and sets the glass aside, wiping it off with a napkin, careful to not accidentally remove the stain.

Your lips left such a pretty mark, he doesn’t want to part with it yet, even if you are going to give him an earful later for not washing the glass properly.

When there is nothing else to do around the house, he opens his laptop and starts sorting out his emails. All of their schedules for the month have been cancelled, and their upcoming comeback postponed indefinitely.

He doesn’t think it’s necessary, but at the end of the day, the company’s rules must be followed. You’ve complained about him working too much anyway. Maybe this is the chance for you two to spend a bit more time together.

All he has to do now is wait for you to come back.

He waits.

And waits.

And waits…

Felix visits with Jisung and Seungmin the next day.

And then the next, Jeongin comes with Changbin and Hyunjin.

Minho drops by every morning with enough food to last Chris the whole day.

His manager comes once a week and makes sure to call him daily.

Whenever he’s on the phone, he paces around the empty apartment and looks around. He sees the jewellery you left on the coffee table; your sports shoes are still on the doormat in front of the door, your face creams and serums stay untouched in the bathroom, your hairbrush lays by the sink filled with loose hair, and there’s a half-ironed shirt on the ironing table in the dressing.

You don’t like other people touching your stuff, so he leaves everything just like that, waiting for you to come back and fix it all.

The glass with your lipstick stain on it is still there on the counter, next to the sink.

He’s texted you about a dozen of times since he first messaged you about it and the plate that’s long been washed, but you haven’t replied to a single text. Your phone still goes directly to voicemail, but worst of all… no matter how much he’s waiting…

… you don’t come home, and the apartment stays empty.

‘Hello! You’ve called… wait, am I doing this correctly?

Yes. The beep-

Oh, right! Thanks for calling, please leave your message after the beep. Okay, bye~!’

‘Hello! You’ve called… wait, am I doing this correctly?

Yes. The beep-

Oh, right!’

‘Hello!’

---

Anger

---

It’s been more than a month, but Chris still sets the table for you each time he eats what Lee Know brings him.

He wouldn’t bother eating much, if Minho wouldn’t have insisted to tag along to practically every meal after he noticed that he’s barely touching the food.

He always places one more plate on the table, right in front of him, at your usual spot.

“Just in case she comes back and gets hungry.” He explains to Minho, but he’s had enough of this.

“Hyung…” Lee Know hesitates. “She… she’s not coming back. You know that, right?”

His tone is quiet, and he tries to approach the subject as gently as possible. However, it’s time for him to do something. You’ve died more than five weeks ago, but Chris hasn’t moved any of your belongings, not even to store them.

There’s a box of tampons on the kitchen counter, but he won’t even move that, for fuck’s sake. He keeps waiting for you to come home, as if he doesn’t realise the fact that you’ve passed away.

“No, she will.” Chris says firmly, daring Minho to challenge him more.

“Hyung… She… she died. She’s not coming back.”

“You’re wrong!” Chris shouts all of a sudden, hitting the table with his fist strong enough to make the tableware bounce. He knows Minho is right. After waiting for you for weeks on end without you coming back, after dialling your number about a million times, after sending countless texts with no reply from you… he knows. But…

“Chris…” Lee Know stares empathetically.

“You’re all wrong! She… she’s coming back, goddamit!” He shouts again, this time grabbing the table’s edges and flipping it. The empty plates fall to the ground and shatter in the process, and Minho’s pot spills on the carpet, staining it.

Chris tries to cling to the last bit of hope he has regarding you, but he knows you’re dead. Everyone else was right, and he was wrong. You’re really gone.

“I’m sorry, Hyung. You… you need some help…” Lee Know continues with a shake of his head, bending down to grab the broken pieces of glass.

When he’s done cleaning up the carpet and the floor to the best of his abilities, he takes one more look at Chan. He looks like a ticking bomb, ready to explode again any second now.

Lee Know doesn’t know if it would be good to give Chan space, or if he should insist again that he comes with him to the dorms.

He decides to ask him anyway, and to his surprise, Chris nods and packs a small bag with clothes and hangs it on his shoulder.

They made their way out to Lee Know’s car, and once they’re at the dorms, they say goodbye as each goes to their respective apartments. Chris used to live with 3RACHA and Hyunjin, so that’s where he’s headed.

The dorms are as messy as he remembers, but they bring him comfort nontheless. His old room brings him solace as well.

There are a few pictures or you on the small desk in his room, and he looks at them fondly. You’re smiling beautifully in all of them. It’s the you he remembers. You, at your first date; you, the first time he took you to an amusement park; you, when all your fingers were coated in chocolate after you attempted to bake him a cake.

It’s you.

God, how he misses you.

How dare you leave him alone?

How dare you?

Why didn’t you fucking look to the left before crossing the road? Even if the traffic light was green, you should’ve fucking looked.

You’ve always been careful to look, so why…?!

Watching the pictures no longer makes him happy. It makes him angry, and out of anger, he punches the wall behind the desk with all his strength.

It makes no sense, really, but the pain in his fist takes away from the pain in his heart, so he punches the wall again.

He decides to try and calm down after hitting the wall two more times, and he hops into his old bed, shutting his eyes tight and thinking about the night you died.

‘I’m really fucking done with how overbearing you’re being. I was doing fine before I met you, and I sure as hell do just fine without you over my head every fucking minute of the day.’

Those were some of the last words he’s said to you.

Since you’ve died a few blocks away from the JYPE building, it happened right after you left.

You died thinking he doesn’t love you.

You died thinking he doesn’t need you.

He does.

He needs you.

If only he’d gone home with you that night, as you asked him, you would’ve never died.

It’s his fault.

It’s his fault you’ve died.

He killed you.

He lashed out on you and blamed all his stress on your attempts to take care of him, and he killed you.

Fuck, it’s all his fault.

For the first time since the funeral, he bursts out in tears, and he is unable to stop. It’s like all of his repressed feelings for the past month and a half come biting him right in the ass.

It’s so hard to breathe. He’s getting suffocated.

He can’t.

He can’t breathe anymore.

You’re on top of him, suffocating him.

“You killed me.” You say, blood running down your face.

He can almost feel the drops hitting him, with your face so close to him.

“It’s your fault. “You knew what you were saying. You killed me.” You say again cruelly, and Chris shuts his eyes even tighter.

His cries soon turn to wails, and he’s being loud enough for Changbin to hear him and get alerted. He opens the door without knocking, and upon seeing Chris, his heart breaks.

He just goes to the bed and throws himself on top of Chris, as if to shelter him somehow from the intense grief he’s feeling.

When his cries quiet down, Changbin takes a look at his friend and sees his injuries.

“Holy fuck, your hand is bleeding. Are you okay?” He asks in panic, standing up quickly to grab the first aid kit to bandage his fist.

“It’s all my fucking fault!” Chris screams at the top of his lungs, and his destructive mood comes back. He stands up, wanting to destroy it all. Every damn picture, every fucking thing in this room.

He wants to set it on fire and let it it all to pieces, letting himself burn as well. It’s what he deserves for killing you.

Sure, the drunk driver that hit you was directly responsible for taking your life, but the way he acted that night… nothing would’ve happened if it weren’t for him.

He killed you.

Changbin sees right through his erratic behaviour and anticipates his moves, throwing himself once more at Chris, holding him tight and not letting him move, no matter how much Chris lashes out. He doesn’t let go until his friend calms down again, and even after he does, he decides to camp in the room with him and keep him company.

---

Bargaining

---

It’s been three months, and Chris still has some difficulties accepting that you’re truly gone.

He probably shouldn't be here so soon, but it’s like he has to make sure again that you’re… that you’re dead.

Your parents did a great job with your grave; your gravestone made of marble stands tall , centred right in front of the ground you’re buried deep within, and the intricate designs of sculpted vines and flowers reminds him of you.

Oh, right. Flowers.

Chris remembers he brought a bouquet of pink peonies with him. He’s been holding onto it tightly ever since he bought it and stepped in a taxi to come here, but as soon as he got to your grave, time stopped, he couldn’t breathe anymore, and he forgot about the flowers in his hands.

It’s not like you need any more; there are so many fresh flowers all over and around your grave. Your parents also planted lots on top of the soil above your coffin, decorating your rest place beautifully.

You’ve always said you wanted a garden, and now, you have one: your little space in the uncomfortably large cemetery at the edge of the city.

“My favourite flowers. Aren’t they pretty?” He swears he can hear your voice, and turning to his left side, his breath hitches in his throat, choking him.

There you are, holding the bouquet of pink peonies he bought with a large smile on your face, but just like last time, he blinks, and the bouquet is in his hands, as it’s been the whole time, and you’re nowhere in sight.

A tear rolls down Chan’s cheek. He wishes he would’ve bought you that house and garden you’ve been dreaming of, instead of the convenient apartment in the city centre.

He wishes he would’ve proposed, and that you’d build a little family together. After all, you were his solace in the midst of all the chaos of his life. The sole person bringing him purpose and comfort.

But now you’re gone.

He wishes he wouldn’t have always put his job first. Especially now, as his schedules stay empty due to the company fearing for his well-being, he realises how much free time he could’ve had if only – if only he’d listened to you.

He regrets all those late nights in the studio when he could’ve been home sleeping next to you.

He regrets every breakfast, lunch and dinner he’s missed because he was too busy with making a new song, learning a new dance, or preparing for a new comeback. Now, none of it matters. You’re gone.

He could’ve postponed all of them. He could’ve done so much differently, and he regrets it all.

You’re gone.

He places the peonies in a little vase near your gravestone, next to some daffodils someone must’ve brought you a few days ago.

Then, he raises his gaze and reads the inscription in the headstone’s marble. It’s your favourite poem by Clare Harner.

Good choice, he thinks, as he goes through the lines of Immortality and traces each engraved letter with his fingers.

‘Do not stand by my grave and weep

I am not there, I do not sleep.

I am the thousand winds that blow,

I am the diamond glints in snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain,

I am the gentle, autumn rain.

As you awake with morning's hush,

I am the swift, up-flinging rush

Of quiet birds in circling flight.

I am the day transcending night.

Do not stand by my grave, and cry--

I am not there, I did not die.’

You stopped reciting the poem and took a deep breath, looking expectantly at Chan.

“Isn’t this poem beautiful?” You asked him, your eyes sparkling.

“A bit morbid, but yes.” Chris chuckled as he placed the freshly made pasta dish in a large plate and served you dinner.

“Aww, thank you. Smells so good!” You grinned in delight, your eyes closing into crescents, as they always did whenever you smiled brightly.

He couldn’t help but press a quick chaste kiss against your lips before he sat down as well.

“So, pasta master, show me how it’s done.” You encouraged him, nudging his elbow and handing him your fork and spoon.

“Tsk, you’re so spoiled.” Chris tutted jokingly, but complied nonetheless and started twirling the pasta with the fork. Once it became an appropriate bite-sized portion, he raised the fork and supported it with the spoon as he brought the food to your mouth.

“Mmmm, so good!” You exclaimed with a few quick, excited small claps, as soon as you started feeling the flavours.

“Of course, what were you expecting?” Chris chuckled.

“Only the best from you.” She praised, petting his head fondly. “So, about the poem. Do you think it’s good enough for my presentation?”

“For Uni? Yeah, of course. Anything you’d pick is good enough, babe. You have your way with words, and you recited it very beautifully.”

“You think?” You beamed at his words, and he nodded. “Thank you, Channie. I really really like it, but I was afraid it wasn’t appropriate.”

“No, it is. You can use it.”

“If the lyrical genius says so, it must be true.” You stood up briefly and kissed his cheek, before returning to your seat and starting eating the pasta.

God, how many years ago was that?

Chris bursts out crying for the millionth time this month, and grabs the headstone with both his hands, feeling his knees grow weak.

On the brink of collapse, he uses your gravestone for support as he weeps louder.

“Can’t you come back?” He asks, his voice shaking. “Please. Please come back. Please. I… I promise I’ll do better, hm? I promise I’ll no longer stay as late in the studio, so please… please…”

The headstone can’t support him enough when his hands go weak as well, and he falls to his knees right in front of the poem.

“If only – If only I’d left with you that night. If only we hadn’t fought. God… please, please come back. We still have to make up.”

He cries for what feels like hours, and his body grows cold.

“Please… please…” He forces out again. “Come back… come back… we have so much we want to do… come back… I need… I need more time with you, please. Please.”

And he cries again.

And again.

And again, until he feels a hand on his shoulder a while later, and he turns his head around hopeful, thinking you might’ve somehow heard his pleas and returned to him.

His expression falls as he sees Seungmin looking concerned at him, and then he frowns even more noticing the pathetic way he looks in his eyes’ reflection.

Seungmin falls to the ground next to Chan, hugging his side tightly. Then, he helps him stand up and balance on his feet.

Chris is grateful for Stray Kids being there for him, but he just wishes… it would’ve been you standing next to him instead of Seungmin.

---

Depression

---

Chris has never experienced such an intense fatigue before. Every part of his body hurts, and it’s like his muscles are screaming at him each time he stands up. He is lethargic and looks haggard and in desperate need of rest, but rest doesn’t come by too easily as of late.

It’s 5AM and he’s in the studio again, but instead of doing anything productive, like finishing up that song he’s started working on two months ago that he keeps beating himself up for, he watches how beautiful you looked in the picture on his desk.

You used to be so full of life and so gorgeous. Your smile could make anyone happy, and your laugh – God, how much he misses your laugh.

He misses your voice.

Sometimes, he can’t even remember what it sounds like, and he thinks it’s absurd; it hasn’t been that long since you passed. Only about a year. He shouldn’t forget it so soon.

He grabs his phone and manually types the digits to your number. He still hasn’t forgotten it, and with how deep it’s been ingrained in his memory, he doesn’t think he ever will.

‘Hello! You’ve called… wait, am I doing this correctly?

Yes. The beep-

Oh, right! Thanks for calling, please leave your message after the beep. Okay, bye~!’

He hasn’t cried in some time while thinking of you, but now, he’s on the verge of tears again. You used to sound so carefree.

You used to be so happy.

He doesn’t know when he started referring to you in past tense, but as soon as the realisation hits him, he lets a couple of tears stain his cheeks.

Chris is tired. He hasn’t slept in… God knows how many days. He’s always had trouble sleeping, but nowadays, his insomnia has been getting worse and worse. His doctor prescribed him some pills that are supposed to help, but he can’t even be bothered to take them anymore. They don’t help him rest anyway. If he takes them, he wakes up confused, disoriented, and with an even worse headache.

His phone is still in his hand and his finger brushes over his screen. He didn’t have the heart to change his lockscreen picture. It’s still you.

He hasn’t seen you in what feels like years. The first few months when he’d been haunted by your ghost were tough, but now that he hasn’t seen any glimpse of you in months, day to day life is getting harder and harder to navigate.

You don’t even visit him in his dreams anymore, on the seldom nights he sleeps. If he takes the small white pills, he doesn’t dream of anything, and he so desperately wants to see you again, to touch you, that he refuses to take them. That’s the other reason he doesn’t.

Fuck, this is hard.

Are you supposed to feel so devastated after a whole year?

Back then, years passed by so quickly – it meant comeback after comeback, work, work and more work, and time with you was scarce but very appreciated. Time used to fly, and without him knowing how much time passed, you’ve celebrated your 5th anniversary. He was planning to propose to you soon. He was looking at rings, but then you…

Time doesn’t pass by as quickly anymore. This year stretched for so long, it felt like a decade instead of barely 12 months. With each passing month, it was like nothing was changing at all for Chris, but now, looking back, everything feels different.

He’s a completely different person than the one that was staying in the studio up until 5 AM last year, and he blames himself so, so much for his unchanging bad habits.

He blames himself for your death still. It’s his fault, and this thought only makes him more hopeless and more depressed.

He’s lost weight. A lot of it, to the point where the company had to have an ‘intervention’. Whereas last year his body was toned, his abs perfectly sculpted and his form admirable, he now looks like a ghost of himself.

If he eats, his stomach immediately starts hurting. He threw up 3 times this week alone.

Your death still has such a big emotional toll on him, and he’s tried it all. He went to therapy. He still goes four times a week at his company’s requests. He’s on medication that makes him groggy and unable to think, medication that shut down all his feelings – not just the negative ones. He is numb, and when he isn’t, he feels utterly devastated and lost.

What is he supposed to do now, without you?

How come a year has already passed without you by his side? He’s even contradicting himself. Sometimes he feels that the year passed by slowly, and sometimes he looks back and doesn’t understand how he was able to live a whole year without you.

He needs you.

Fuck, he needs you so much, he still can’t believe he even insinuated that horrible night that he didn’t.

Life no longer has any purpose, and everyone around him is growing more concerned by the day, as this once optimistic man has left together with you, leaving in his place only a pessimistic, desperate person.

He realised how badly he wants to die exactly 6 months ago, when your sudden disappearance finally started sinking in for real. When he stopped bargaining with God or with whatever cruel higher power there might be in the sky to let you come back, even if just for 10 minutes, for enough time for him to kiss and hug you and tell you how much he’s missing you.

6 months ago, he started decorating his thighs with unsightly marks, some of them faded, other fresh. He can’t do it anywhere else, no matter how much he’d wished to cut his wrists open, for fear of anyone else noticing.

So, he takes his despair out on his poor thighs, pressing the small blade against his skin until he feels something, anything. Until blood starts pouring down and the shower’s water pools down at his feet completely red.

He winces in pain every time he does it, but at least he feels something different than the numbness that grows bigger and bigger in his heart, consuming everything in its way. His whole soul feels absorbed by it, crushed under the pressure.

On the rare occasions he’s not numb, he feels the immense grief your absence left. He now knows that you’ve not only taught him how to love, but also how it is to lose what you love, and it hurts. It’s excruciating, and his heart is being ripped apart still, each and every time he thinks of you, and your absence is tearing him apart from the inside out.

He is physically sick. His headaches are worse than ever. He can’t sleep. He can’t eat. He can’t do anything anymore. He doesn’t want to, either.

The only thing he wants is to die, but even this wish feels selfish. He sees the way his friends look at him, how they’re walking on eggshells around him, to not somehow mention anything that could trigger a bigger depressive episode than what he’s already going through. He only pushes through it because of them, because he knows how it feels to lose someone you truly love, and he doesn’t want them to have to live with this black hole in their chests.

But… the loneliness he feels is simply merciless. It’s pouring down on him like unyielding unforgiving rain, not showing him any pity, and so he tries to fills his days with something that would make him forget about the gap in his soul.

The company let him come back to work a while ago, but they didn’t plan any comeback for Stray Kids for the time being, nor are they planning any for the near future. He’s grateful they’re giving him time, because he’s in no shape or form ready to do anything, not when he’s withdrawn himself so much from everything he used to love.

It’s difficult to compose any up-beat songs, or any song, for that matter. It used to come naturally for him, but not anymore. Changbin and Jisung are doing their best to support him and make up for his lack of concentration, but it feels like he’s not bringing anything to the table anymore.

He’s missed practice over and over again. The Kids meet up every two days to dance to their older songs, and as they don’t have anything new to work with, they even started learning the dances of other popular songs, or creating choreographies that would fit western music. Chan never went. He stopped dancing 12 months ago, and he hasn’t even stepped in the practice room since you died, not even once.

He hasn’t sung since you died either, and no one said anything about it. No one blamed him at all. Not even his company, who he was sure was going to fire him in the first 6 months after your death.

They said they trust him, and that they’re going to give him as much time as he needs to recover. They talk about him like he’s sick, but he’s not sick. They don’t seem to understand that.

He’s not sick, he’s just devastated, and he doesn’t think he’s ever going to be able to live again, to sing and dance on stage and to work hard, because this is no longer his dream.

He only dreams of death, and the thoughts of it are the only ones bringing him any solace. His therapist said he needs more time, and he quoted Lois Tonkin more times than he can count. He said that life will soon begin to grow bigger around grief, and that the intense sadness he’s feeling is just another expression of love for you. One that is permanent, but that will diminish as time passes and as he starts enjoying life again.

He doesn’t believe any of it, though.

How could he begin to enjoy life again, with you not there by his side?

---

Acceptance

---

He met someone.

For the first time in years, he felt genuine happiness again.

It took him one more year to start reengaging in some of his older hobbies and in his work. He started gradually going to the gym with Changbin and Lee Know, and eventually felt ready to start dancing and singing again. Another year later, he was ready to get back on stage and face all his fans, who’ve thankfully shown an unwavering support of his journey with grief.

He started feeling a bit better, and even though you were on his mind all the time, he was no longer dwelling on the pain of the loss of you. Your memory started bringing him more happiness, and he started looking fondly at all the sweet moments you’ve both shared together.

He started appreciating being able to have met you, to have lived 5 beautiful years next to you, and even though he still feels it is unfair that you’ve been taken away from him so cruelly and way too early, he no longer blames himself.

He still regrets the argument you had on the night you passed away, but he started slowly coming to terms with the fact that there was nothing he could do about it anymore, no way to take his words back. He started accepting that this is the one regret he’s going to have to take to his grave with him.

It took him one more year to start embracing life again, to start looking forward to his future with Stray Kids and to start actively making plans. He realised there was so much more he wanted to accomplish, and his dreams started coming back to him little by little, with the support of his friends and family.

He’s met her two years later.

When it happened, he was still not ready to give love a second chance. He thought it was way too soon, that he was disrespecting you by catching feelings for someone else. He felt like he was emotionally cheating on you.

He decided it’s time to join a support group at the recommendation of his friend, and he’s met a lot of people of all ages: some younger than him, some way older. The way they spoke about their former partners warmed up his heart, and they made him realise that loving again is not an affront to your memory. He can still keep loving you while loving someone else as well. He can still honour your memory.

He opened up to her, and he’s told her all about you. She wanted to know who you were, and she even visited your grave with him, holding his hand and talking to you at your gravestone. She told you she loves him and thanked you for being there for him while you were still alive, for giving him precious memories to hold onto.

She apologized for life being so unfair and taking you away from Chris so abruptly, and she assured you she’s going to take care of him to the best of her abilities.

She was really patient with him. She gave him as much time as he needed to come to terms with his feelings. He let him set the pace on what he was comfortable with doing. The first time they slept together was after more than one year of dating, but she didn’t mind waiting for as long as he felt necessary.

She loved him, and he loved her.

He proposed to her almost two years later, and they welcomed a child one year after their wedding.

He visited your grave on your 10th death anniversary with his son in his stroller, a baby boy he’s given your favourite name. You were still present in his thoughts, and his love for you never subsided.

He now simply has additional people to love and to grow old with, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t miss you still.

He decided to visit your grave again, even if walking has become a bit too difficult. Still, he manages the way from the car until your grave just fine, even if he has to support himself with a crane.

He is now old enough to be called ‘grandpa’, and not just as a joke between him and his friends. His hands are shaking, and his legs are a bit wobbly; his face is adorned with deep lines and creases, his forehead is wrinkly, and each fine line contributes to his now years-long life and experiences. The skin dropped around his cheeks, but every lady in the nursing home assures him he’s still a handsome man.

Your grave is no longer as tidy and beautifully adorned with fresh flowers. The soil has been overtaken by weeds and is in dear need of cleansing. He hasn’t visited in a while, unfortunately, his health issues making it a tad too hard, and with your parents long gone, there is no one else to take care of your resting place.

He makes a mental note to hire someone to clean it up and plant some flowers, but for the time being, he simply sets the bouquet of rose peonies in the small, chipped vase next to your headstone.

The inscription in the once immaculate marble is no longer as visible, but he doesn’t need to read it in order to recognise Immortality by Clare Harner. He still remembers the poem by heart, and also all sorts of other small, insignificant things, like your old phone number that’s been disconnected decades ago.

He looks at your smiling picture, the one he took when you’ve just graduated from university, and he realises as if for the first time how young you were.

He’s grown old; he has multiple wrinkles, his skin sagged everywhere, and his body went through each transformation it was supposed to when advancing in years.

But you?

You’ve stayed young. You’ve stayed beautiful, cheerful, smiling. Your face stayed clear of any creases.

You’ve remained just as he remembers you.

You are immortal.

“I’m sorry for not coming in a while.” He speaks with a soft smile on his face.

“That’s fine. You are probably very tired.”

He swears he could hear your voice. Maybe the poem is right, and the whispers of the wind transform in your saccharine voice he’s so dearly missed.

“I’m truly sorry for what I’ve said.” He continues, feeling the need to apologize again for his harsh words that night. No matter how many years have passed and how many time he’s already apologised, he’s never forgiven himself.

“But I’ve forgiven you long ago.” The wind whispers, and he closes his eyes and nods his head.

“I still love you. I’ve never stopped loving you. I hope you know that.”

“I know.” The sunlight caresses his back, warming him up as the wind strengthens. “And I’m waiting for you, whenever you’re ready to meet me, my love.”

~The End~

---

(A/N) Obligatory song: 11 minutes by Halsey and YUNGBLUD.

youtube

When my best friend showed me this song, I immediately fell in love with the concept of the music video, that’s based on the five stages of grief. I thought to myself that I simply must write a story like this, but of course, that was months ago and I’ve completely forgotten about it, as I usually do with most random ideas that come to mind that I don’t write down lol.

I couldn’t really sleep for the past few nights, so my mind kept brewing ideas and scenarios to keep me busy and hopefully lull me to sleep.

It didn’t work, because the five stages of grief came to mind and I knew I had to immediately write a story about it and not let the idea go this time, so I got out of bed at like 6:30 am and wrote and wrote on and off for a total of 13 hours, until this 10k words of pure despair have been created.

I hope you enjoyed it even though it probably sent you spiralling into depression. Thank you for reading nonetheless!

Love,

Storm

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ronqueesha · 1 year

Text

Negative Character Traits: Aunlin

BOLD traits that apply to your character

ITALICIZE circumstantial traits

I saw @arcanist-starweaver do it, and stole the meme for my own WoW blorbo.

I’ll tag @arcandoria, @gaeadene, @bardofheartdive, @lookbluesoup, @seasaltandcopper

#warcraft #aunlin boltwrench

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snakeofgarlemald · 1 year

Text

Mun:

Safe to say, I have an inkling of what Menenius feels like after working just two 9 hour shifts. But like working almost non-stop, no wonder Lyon has to drag him to bed cause it would be nigh impossible otherwise to get Menenene to sleep. Add in the fact that they’re also fighting.....this asshole at 55 has more energy then I do XD

But for real, he probably had the most toxic and worse sleeping habit during the 10 years away from Lyon cause Noah piling shit onto him. Then Lyon having to undo all that cause wow, that’s not healthy......there’s a reason why Menenius is a walking ball of anxiety and probably depression just covered by the fact that he’s a workaholic and near perfectionist.

#Plus he has a chaotic neutral Beast master #two pyromaniacs that are lunatics #a boss/best friend that's ghosting him #whatever the hell is going on with the 4th legion #And people wonder why he loves his machines more then he should #How Menenius hasn't lost his sanity is beyond me

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luanna801 · 2 years

Note

Dick Grayson, but if someone else beat me to that, Lestat.

Let's do both!

Dick Grayson:

"They are sooooo cool looking" is mostly for his classic fingerstripe Nightwing costume, which is one of my favorite superhero costumes to this day 💕

"everyone but me is wrong about them" - not literally lmao, but I have DEFINITELY gotten frustrated at a lot of Bad Dick Grayson Takes in my day, and in multiple different directions! I feel like he's a character people often relate very personally to, so a lot of us come up with wildly different interpretations of him. It's actually taken me a while to get to a point of realizing my take ISN'T always The One True Correct One.

But actually, it is though.

"Wasted potential" should just be automatic for all DC characters, pour one out.

"If they were real I would marry them" + "they're like a blorbo to me" Look I don't think either of those is gonna come as a surprise to anyone who's followed me for a while. He's arguably one of my all-time biggest blorbos.

"They're deeper than they seem" - Much like Babs, Dick gets reduced to a few obvious traits far too often. I particularly get excited when I see his workaholic, perfectionist side acknowledged, because I think it's such a fundamental aspect of him and too often gets ignored in favor of "He's the happy, well-adjusted one."

"I like them enough to project my own issues onto them" - less so now! But back in the day, I think I DEFINITELY used Dick and Bruce's relationship to work through some of my own daddy issues.

"They got done DIRTY by the fans" - listen, I think we all know I mean SPECIFIC fans here and I think we all know what I mean, so let's leave it at that, shall we?

Lestat:

"wasted potential" - This is by no means a new complaint, but it's generally acknowledged in the fandom that Lestat's character development took a nosedive somewhere around the fourth book and never recovered, particularly since the narrative stopped holding him responsible for practically anything he did.

"if they were real I would be afraid of them" - I mean. He eats people. 😂 Also, see the next bullet point...

"wow! they are a horrible person" - Listen, it's "horrible person (affectionate)", but I don't think anyone can argue that he IS. He's The Worst! He makes absolutely horrendous life choices and spends large portions of the books making things actively worse for everyone around him! But he's always super ENTERTAINING about it, and underneath it all, I do think he's... uhhh... trying?

Look, he's trying SOMETIMES, okay.

"they work better as part of a dynamic" - I think Lestat is at his best when he's playing off of complementary characters, which is why I think his family dynamic with Louis and Claudia is probably the strongest part of the series (and to a lesser degree, his dynamic with characters like Armand and Gabrielle). By contrast, I think a weakness of the later books is that it's far too often "Lestat interacting with the latest OC no one cares about", and there are EXTREMELY diminishing returns there.

"they got too much screen time" - it's not exactly that I don't think Lestat should get screen time, or that I dislike having Lestat as the main character (when it's well done, I actually find his PoV really fun to read), but I think turning it into The Lestat Series in a way that's often at the expense of other characters wasn't a good direction for the series, and that's what I find a pity.

#replies #firefaerie81 #character bingo meme

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curiousb · 2 years

Text

The Wentworth Family Album: Volume IV

Over at the Wentworth’s, eldest son Walter is making sneaky plans with his good friend Jasper.

Where do these kids get these fancy cars from? That’s definitely not the Tilney family’s car!

Wow, who is that cute boy that’s giving my sister a very practised back rub?!

Getting to know you.

The Wentworth home is Flirting Central tonight. Walter might not be a blonde, but he’s definitely caught Bennet’s attention too.

Where did this come from?! Sophia hasn’t even had a first kiss yet, but she pounces on Bennet for a full-on make-out session when everyone’s back is turned!

And yes, I completely missed Sophia’s birthday - I’m not proud of my omission, but there it is.

Sophia’s teen stats:

~ Scorpio 9 / 4 / 9 / 4 / 8

~ Ambitious / Perfectionist / Workaholic / Handy

~ OTH: Fitness

~ Favourite Colour(s): Lime Green

~ Aspiration: Family / Knowledge

~ Turn-ons / -off: +Fitness / +Tidy / -Laid Back

Arrgghh, he’s a pirate!

But not too ruthless to tuck in his kids at night.

Walter really wants to go on a date, so he invites Bennet to the newly-refurbished roller-rink - Rollerama - in Sanditon (Merybury’s Downtown).

I think it was once a Maxis lot, but it’s been sitting in my Lot Bin for literally years, and I can’t remember for sure any more!

Off to a fun start!

I’m low-key in love with the Restaurant Host that my game has generated - she’s called Susie Willis, she’s green, she has cute pointy ears and she just loves her job!

I’ve heard that there are real, blood-sucking vampires stalking around Sanditon!

Yep, he’s not wrong - there’s one right now, picking on Mary Crawford.

The date goes really well!

Hmm, well, until Walter's mean streak and a difference of opinion make their appearance.

And Jasper seems to have come along too, to chaperone his big brother and his friend.

All good things must come to an end. Bennet eventually says his fond goodbyes and makes his way home, leaving Walter to discuss sporting opportunities at De Bourgh University with new acquaintance and current student Mitch Indie.

#sims 2 #gameplay #build mode #merybury #sanditon #walter wentworth #sophia wentworth #frederick wentworth #jasper tilney #bennet tilney #mary crawford #mitch indie #susie willis #wentworth family

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pappierus · 3 years

Text

A Big, Fat, Disastrous, Idiotic Mistake // Nozel Silva

...5.4k words :/

(i wrote this on wattpad, not copying, just moved it here bc i liked the tumblr community a lot better)

erm ye. enjoy?

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

You made a mistake.

You made a big, fat, disastrous, idiotic mistake.

You'd made this mistake nearly six months before, and it was still haunting you to this day.

You decided to be a member of the Silver Eagle Squad.

Why was this a big, fat, disastrous, idiotic mistake, you may ask?

"Wow, I didn't think a commoner would last this long in this place, congratulations!" your superior chuckled a s you walked out of your room, your superior chuckled.

Well, because you were a commoner in a squad full of arrogant noblemen.

____

You're not sure why Captain Nozel chose you in the first place; you were the one he despised the most. Even your breathing irritated him — not that you felt any differently about him, of course.

He was without a doubt the most evil person on the face of the earth, w ith his menacing purple eyes and demonic braided hair.

Evil.

You were strong, and you worked hard to gain even the tiniest bit of his approval, but no matter how hard you tried, he dismissed you with a sneer.

Even now, when your squad reported to him after completing a mission, retrieving a fortune, and saving hundreds of lives, the majority of which was due to your magic—which your squad leader, bless him, pointed out—he still rolled his eyes when your name was mentioned. Which you took offence to and glared at him angrily, which he matched for the remainder of the brief meeting.

When your squad leader finished the report, he hummed his approval and dismissed you all, so you ended your glaring match and walked away.

You felt sick by even being in the same room with him.

yep, a big, fat, disastrous, idiotic mistake.

____

For the third time, you loudly knocked on Captain Silva's big office door, hurting your knuckle in the process. You knew he was in there because he never leaves unless he's on a mission, being the workaholic and perfectionist he was.

You didn't come here voluntarily, oh no, you would never.

You had to request a day or two off from your captain since your sister was getting married, she wanted you to be the best maid, and you were not going to miss your baby sister's wedding for the world.

Due to said circumstances, you were forced to endure the agony of seeing his face once more, or at least the part of his face that wasn't obscured by that unusual braid.

You were beginning to wonder who told him it was a good idea to style his hair like that, the devil? Because it was not, in fact, a good idea, but it was the braid that saved you the trouble of looking at his entire face. you began to wonder; did he braid it himself?

You laughed to yourself at the thought of your enraged captain braiding his hair like a little girl in front of a mirror, but your thoughts was cut off by the devil himself.

"How long do you intend to laughing to yourself like a lunatic?" When the door opened, you looked up to see your captain staring down at you with his trademark sneer on his lips. And with that, you smile vanished.

"sorry, I was just having a funny thought." you said, rubbing the back of your neck in embarrassment. He gave you a blank stare.

Great, you reasoned, he thinks I'm crazy, just another excuse to despise me.

"What do you want?" he asked. "Or do you enjoy wasting my time?" he snarled.

rude, you thought.

"Hey! I had to knock on the door three times before you heard me. My hand hurts." you said, it wasn't uncommon of you to talk back to the captain, you had a short temper and he had a large ego.

you said, it wasn't uncommon of you to talk back to the captain, you had a short temper and he had a large ego.

"You did?" he asks, and you gape at him, because he heard you laughing softly to yourself ( quietly, may I add) but not you pounding on the door? "Shut your mouth, it's incredibly rude."

''you're one to talk'' you mumbled under your breath.

"Mumbling is rude" he sneered, disapprovingly looking at you, "I don't like repeating myself, what do you want?"

You were so irritated that you almost forgot why you came here. You took a deep breath in and out to relax, then resumed speaking.

"Captain, I have a question for you." You said something, he rolled his eyes and went into his office; you followed behind him, not having time to properly look around but judging by his desk, he was certainly busy, almost making you feel bad for bothering him.

"You see, my sister's wedding is coming up in a few days, and I was invited to attend—" you sensed his glare but continued to talk, "-but I need to take a day off to do so." You finished quickly and waited for a response.

"Your vacation days aren't for another two weeks." "You're asking me if you should leave your duties to attend a party?" he said after a brief pause.

He said it as if it were the most ridiculous suggestion ever made.

"It's not just a party! It's a wedding reception! They're very serious."

"I'm sure anything like this will be thrilling to a commoner—"

"excuse me? It has nothing to do with mme being a commoner; if you got married, wouldn't you want your siblings to attend?" you questioned, hands clenched.

"Well, I'm sure my wedding will actually be important—" he dismissively said.

"And this isn't important?" you cut him off. "Oh right, I forgot, I wouldn't understand because I'm a commoner," You said it jokingly, but you were truly offended. Nozel's eyes softened slightly as if noticing, but you were too upset to notice.

Nozel composed himself, "precisely, I'm so glad you understand-"

"I doubt you could ever get married anyway." you mumbled, you expected him to say something typical like 'mumbling is rude', but he heard you clearly.

"what's that supposed to mean?" he seethed, stepping closer in an attempt to intimidate you.

"I mean, I doubt any woman would willingly get married to you!" you yelled, your words seemed to anger him more.

"Oh please, no sane man would ever stay in a relationship with you," he spat back, rolling his eyes, and pinching his temples, "i shouldn't be wasting my breath on such a worthless commoner"

Worthless commoner...

why every argument you had ended with him calling you a worthless commoner?

yep... a big, fat, disastrous, idiotic mistake.

Both of you were angry, you hadn't intended for the conversation to yet again be another petty argument, but you should've known it wouldn't be easy convincing your captain to do anything.

You were both mad; you hadn't intended for the discussion to devolve into yet another petty argument, but you should've known it would be difficult to persuade your captain to do anything.

"Please, it's important to me..." lowering your voice in the hopes that just being nice would sway him, but he simply glared at you. you sighed and your shoulders slumped, admitting defeat.

You turned away to leave when you heard your captain sigh behind you, "I'll give you the day off," you snapped back up and turned to face your captain, who avoided your gaze, "...but I'm taking away your next holiday."

You sighed once more, knowing that there would be a catch, but you were grateful nevertheless.

"Thank you!" you yelled, Nozel flinched from the volume, you were so happy you could almost hug him.

For once, you saw the captain in a less evil light.

"Are you trying to make my ears bleed" he yelled "Why are you still in my office, get out!"

...never mind.

______

"Did I allow you to speak with me, (Y/N)?" You were unfazed by your captain's snide remarks because you had grown accustomed to them.

"It was just a question. You're so sensitive, yikes", I mumbled. His head snapped towards me

"I'm not sensitive, and you should know, mumbling is rude, " he glared at you.

you stared at him intently, at first, he tried to ignore your gaze but it soon became too obvious. he sighed, rubbing his temples,"What do you want?"

"For you to answer my question," you said bluntly, your eyes narrowing as you awaited his response.

"No, it was an idiotic question." he said, rolling his eyes, "now, go away." he ordered.

You didn't, instead continuing to look at him; he tried to ignore you again, but your stare became too distracting for him; why? He didn't have a clue. Normally, he'd threaten an annoying member of his team.

He glared at you and asked, "Is there something on my face?"

you tilted your head with a grin, unfazed by his glare, "yep."

his eyes widened in horror, had he gotten food around his mouth? or maybe dirt? the idea of dirt on his face irritated him, but there was not mirror for him to check. it was vital that he was always presented as a noble at all times.

You chuckled at his panic; it was unusual for him to lose his composure, and it made you laugh that something on his face had caused him to panic, of all things. It was good to see him not be so serious, you had to admit.

You may be wondering why you and your captain were alone together, not fighting or even attempting to kill each other. You were selected to go on a mission with your squad of three, but due to the gravity of the situation, your captain and another squad were forced to intervene.

The majority of the task had been accomplished, but you and your team had underestimated the complexity of the building from which you were retrieving stolen goods, and as a result, a few of you got lost.

To make matters worse, some of the building had begun to crumble, obstructing the exit from which you and your captain had entered.

You considered using your magic to blow one of the walls open, but it would just cause more parts of the building collapsing, and the majority of your squad was also trapped inside.

So, you and Nozel had been locked in the same room for an hour and had grown tired of arguing, so you decided to break the silence by asking him about the large braid that covered his ears.

"Well?" he started, "Are you going to tell me what's on my face?" Nozel asked impatiently, you chuckled and decided to mess with him because you and Nozel had made a sort of truce.

"Let me help," you said, walking over to the much taller man and reaching your hands up to help.

you lifted the braid from his face, so it was no longer covering it, and smirked "there, much better."

you looked at him, you had never realized how attractive your captain truly was since you have never really seen his face, but he was indeed very attractive, you wondered why he covered his face all the time if he looked like that.

"What makes you think you have the right to touch me, " he spat, letting go of your wrist, "A commoner getting comfortable with a noble, ridiculous" he seethed.

"Here we go again," you muttered, feeling dejected. He had to spoil your fun with the noble chat, of course.

You gave up, frowning and walking away from him. Of course, this wasn't the first time he'd done anything like this, but it always bothered you that it didn't matter what you di,d because you were a commoner.

Isn't it possible that you should just be friends? Could he ask you simple questions like, "How was your day?" or "How are you doing this fine morning?"

'How did the wedding go?' When Nozel asked you a question, your head shot up and you turned to look at him sceptically. Maybe he was making fun of you, or maybe he had read your mind.

"Sorry?'' you asked in case you misheard him, he didn't look at you, but you knew that look of annoyance was directed at you as he rolled his eyes.

He grunted and turned away from you, adding, "I don't like repeating myself." But after a while, he repeated himself anyway, "How was the wedding?"

Although it was a simple question, it still shocked you, but you answered anyway ''Uh, I-It was good, and fun... thanks for asking'' you added at the end, his shoulders stiffened.

it was silent for a while, neither of you spoke. there was a sudden, awkward change of atmosphere, not used to the casual confrontation you had.

After a while, you asked, "Nozel, can I ask you a question?"

"Not another one-''

"It's not about your hair, I promise!" you told him, a little smile on your face, amused at how such a small matter could annoy him so much.

"Ask quickly," he ordered, making you anxious because you weren't sure you wanted the answer.

he noticed your hesitation ''Well...?''

''why did you raise your hand?'' you forced the question out, anticipating his snarky remark, "to be a part of the squad, i mean"

"I know what you mean," he snapped, but the expression on his face was unreadable, he looked at you for a long while, ''why would you ask such a stupid question. You were strong.''

Your gaze grew serious and you pursed your lips before saying, ''but you hate me.'' he matched your hard gaze, ''you've always hated me since i was a commoner. so why would you pick a commoner for your squad''

Your staring match turned into a glaring match, ''I already answered your question, because you were strong''

''liar,'' you scoffed, ''there were other strong commoners, some stronger than me, and you didn't pick them-''

''-Because they weren't like you,'' he sighed angrily.

"How?" you pestered.

"Why does it matter?"

"Because it does. how? you continued to ask, it got on his nerves.

"I saw something in you that I hadn't seen before." I had a gut feeling when I saw you that I wanted you on my squad by my s-"

He abruptly cut himself off, his eyes widening slightly as though he had noticed something. You, too, fell quiet. You hadn't expected his outburst, and you had to confess that for the first time since joining the team, a feeling of acceptance filled your chest.

it was you first time seeing Nozel so flustered, but he quickly straightened his back, ''I needed you in my squad under my leadership. what sort of captain would i be if i ignored your power for such a petty reason.'' he shook him head ''But it it may have been a mistake.''

His last remark felt like a pang to your chest, hurting you much more than you thought it should've, ''w-what?''

He immediately recognized the hurt look on your face, his words had never done that to you before, and he felt a cloud of guilt descend upon him, but before he could respond, you heard the distant shouts of your squad mates, who had found you.

if only you could take back that big, fat, disastrous, idiotic mistake.

________

You had kept your distance from the captain, choosing not to bother him any further. So, instead of your usual glaring match, you kept your head down while reporting a task to him. You didn't object when he made you work extra hours or took away your free time for no apparent reason. When he insulted you, you didn't even react.

You were unwelcome on this team, you hoped that by joining it, your reputation would improve. Although it did, the other members of your squad rarely picked fights with you, and the mean looks were not quite as bad as they had been when you first joined, your reputation with your captain remained the same, no matter how much you contributed.

he didn't know how to react, the person you were now was completely different to the (Y/N) he knew, and he was the reason behind it.

So, when you gave him the letter, he should've anticipated it. "What is this?" he asked, furiously reading it over and over, as if that would change what was written.

well maybe if you stopped talking and actually read it- you though, keeping your calm, cringing as he crumpled the letter you put extra effort in to make your handwriting all nice-

"It says-"

"-I know what it says, I can read," he said angrily, rising from his desk and staring at you incredulously. "You can't be serious, a squad change?" he asked fiercely.

"That's what i wrote" you said bluntly.

"-I know what you wrote!", he yelled, you flinched, not expecting him to get worked up over something like this.

''why are you so angry? Captain Roselei said i could join her squad by the end of the month if I still wanted to, i just need your approval-" you tried to explain.

"I know what she said, i read the letter-" he cut you off again' "and I don't care", he took a deep breath in and sat down again, pinching his temples. "I cant accept" he said.

You instantly grew annoyed, "What, why? You can't do that! -"

"Actually, i can. I can't have you leave my squad, what will happen if the other captains found out one my own members hated it so much, she had to leave. I'll look like a joke!" he yelled back.

"What? You'll have one less commoner on your squad, that good, right? It's not like you appreciate anything i do here anyway-"

"I already said-"

"Is it really so difficult for me to earn a little bit of approval from you, even if it's just a 'well done'? I just wanted to impress my Captain, but it's obvious that he doesn't want me here! You really didn't think this would happen, come on?" You said back your voice raising slightly.

"You can't be treated like a child here, i won't treat you like one-"

"I thought you would be happy" you muttered, "You said it, yourself, you made a mistake."

Something flashed across his eyes, but it was unclear what it was. His face softened, and he began, "(Y/N)...", but his words trailed off.

"It's all right, we both did." "I shouldn't have joined this team," you said, he scrunched his brows at your confession. "I regret it too.". After all this time of keeping it in, it felt nice to finally say it, but you quickly regretted it when you saw his expression.

You had never seen him upset, but it looked like you had hurt him. a part of you thought he deserved it, but another part of you ached to see him like that.

His sad expression faded quickly, and he was replaced by a stern one. He took another glance at the letter before crumpling it up into a ball and tossing it behind him carelessly, "Hey!" you were about to yell, your sympathy quickly replaced with anger.

He replied softly, "I'm sorry," but it wasn't about throwing the letter away, and it had you silent. "I made a mistake; I shouldn't have treated you that way." "I'm sorry for everything," he apologised once more. "I'd take it back if I could."

"Take what back, picking me?" you asked sadly, "I know-"

"No, not that," he said, his voice becoming softer. "I'm sorry for allowing myself to-" he stopped himself before looking at you, shaking his head and saying "forget it, you wouldn't understand... you can leave the squad if you want."

"No, not that. " he said, quieter. "I regret allowing myself to-" he stopped himself before looking at you, shaking his head and saying "forget it, you wouldn't understand... you can leave the squad if you want."

he waved his hand dismissively, but you weren't leaving, "help me understand. I'm not staying in this squad unless you give me a reason to stay." you stated firmly, and he looked at you with yet another blank expression.

"You wouldn't understand." he repeated and you were growing annoyed.

"Then I'll leave" you stated, waiting for some sort of reaction, but there was none. you stayed in the same spot, just waiting for him to try convince you not to go,.

but he didn't, you weren't sure what you expected, but with a defeated sigh, you turned to leave. there was no place for you here anyway.

as you reached the door you heard him ask quietly, "do you truly have no reason to stay?" you looked back at him, and despite his strong, cold facade, he seemed so vulnerable.

"What?" you asked.

"I don't like repeating myself," he said before repeating himself, "Is there no excuse for you to stay?" he asked. "Nothing?...No one?" he enquired hesitantly.

At that exact moment, the evil Captain you've been so desperate to escape from made your heart swell. There was someone, you think. But you shook your head, slapping yourself internally from the thought.

"What do you mean earlier, at or mission, that you didn't regret picking me?" you asked, dodging his question with one of your own, remembering what he said earlier.

"You're avoiding my question."

"Your avoiding mine" you said stubbornly, and he rolled his eyes, something that made you smile, and with a reluctant sigh he answered.

"I never regretted picking you. Not once." He snapped quickly, trying to get the topic over with.

"But you said-"

"I know what i said," he cut you off, again. he avoided your gaze, as if regretting bringing up this topic in the first place.

"I never regretted picking you for my squad, in fact I think it was one of the best decisions of my life." your heart stopped and you stared at him, it must've been hard for him to admit, as he looked down at the papers on his desk, about you didn't see the pink tint on his cheeks.

but rather than teasing him, you asked "Is that the truth?" and he continued to look away.

"Take it or leave it, it doesn't matter, i don't care." he said half-heartedly.

"should i stay?" You continued to press; a familiar mischievous spark rose from withing you.

"W-What? I don't care what you-"

" You didnt think i should leave earlier" you asked, pointing to the scrunched-up letter he threw away.

As much as Nozel tried to hide his embarrassment from his tantrum earlier, he couldn't hide the now obvious fact that he wanted- no, needed you here. he slowly looked up at you, wanting to glare but as soon as he spotted the blush on your cheeks, he couldn't retaliate.

after a minute of silence, he answered "It's the truth, what i said about you being on my squad" he admitted, and you felt your heart beat faster as you saw your captain in a strange new light.

"i told you already its your choice if you want to stay."

you rephrased the question, "do you want me to stay?"

When he saw you were being totally serious, his head shot up at you, his brows furrowed. His eyes opened, and he flushed red from ear to ear. He opened and closed his mouth several times, unable to come up with a response that would not further embarrass him.

"Just say yes or no, Nozel" you told him, noticing his flustered state, normally he would at once correct you to call him captain, but at this moment in time, neither of you cared.

You were not sure where your sudden change of heart started, but all you wanted to hear was on word, one simple word and you would be happy, and upon hearing his name roll of your tongue so causally, he knew exactly what he wanted.

"Yes."

his reply made the room fall to silence yet again.

he wanted you to stay?

"Please stay." he asked, as if answering your question and you weren't sure who the man in front of you was.

All you could do was stare at him, and he stared at you. his eyes were beautiful, you realized.

But eventually, the silence became too much to bear, and not knowing how to reply, you left his office holding your breath. He did not stop you, and watched you as you left.

Was talking to him a mistake?

_________

You foolishly assumed that talking to him would clear things up and convince you that you needed to leave, but you left with far more questions than before.

Everything you could think about was how much he wanted you to stay.

But why now, exactly? Why would he reveal anything right now?

You couldn't get the thoughts out of your head, so you buried yourself in work. You had until the end of the week to determine whether or not you wanted to stay.

"well done, all of you," Captain Nozel said to your team, and you met his gaze, but he averted his gaze first.

Despite the fact that he pretended the discussion never existed, he treated you differently, as though you were now on an equal level with him. you continued to stare at him with confusion, which would normally turn into a glaring battle between the two of you, but he avoided you gaze. The air felt heavy.

You shuffled nervously on your feet before being dismissed, and as the rest of the squad left, he called out your name, and you turned to look at him, heart racing, but he shut his mouth, as though at a loss for words.

"Yes?" You asked expectedly, he shook his head.

"I-... decent job today," he said, which admittedly surprised you and almost made you feel good.

"Thank you, Captain," you replied cortly.

What was the first thing he was going to say? You know you should probably leave, but your feet were firmly planted in place, and you wanted to ask if he had something else to say, maybe an explanation.

When he noticed your hesitation, he asked, "Is there anything you need?"

"Uhm... no, not necessarily," you said, forcing yourself to leave because you didn't want to be a burden any longer.

"Have you decided?" he asked abruptly as you reached the door. "I mean, if you want to stay."

You turned around again, but this time you chose not to look him in the eyes. "I think so, Captain.''

There was a silence, he obviously expected you to tell him your decision, but you couldn't, there was a lump in your throat that wouldn't let you speak.

Judging by the silence, the way you avoided his gaze and the fidgeting of you fingers, he knew what your choice was.

"I see..." he started, his voice laced with... sadness?

"I wish you the best, (Y/N)." he said shortly, there was more he wanted to say, much more, but he couldn't bring himself to say it.

you still didn't leave, and asked "Will you tell me the truth?", the question caught him off guard, and his eyebrows furrowed.

"The truth?" he asked, you met his gaze finally. it became harder nd harder to look into his lavender eyes.

"What is it that you regret? if it wasn't picking me?" you asked, recalling his outburst during your mission, but the continued to brush it off as something not important, but by the stiffening if his shoulders, you knew that was a lie. "If I'm leaving, can't you answer that one question?"

"...You're too stubborn for your own good." he dodged the question, but he held your gaze. He was right, you were stubborn, and by the look in your eye, he knew you weren't leaving without an answer.

"I suppose an explanation for my behavior is needed," and he turned away from you, not willing for you to see the blush on his face, and you smiled at his compliance.

"I didn't, as I've explained, regret picking you. I, I saw you and i knew i wanted you in my squad, but looking back on it, i regret being so selfish" he started.

selfish?

"... I knew as a captain i shouldn't have let my emotions influence my decisions, it was too irrational, to hasty. But i had what you call a gut feeling, that i would never regret picking you, having you by me, by my...by my side-" he paused, not sure if he should continue.

oh.

Your heart stopped beating, and as you tried to over analyze the meaning of his words, you knew that what he had confessed to you was that he-

by his side? you repeated in your head, you didn't dare to say anything out loud.

"I regret treating you the way i did, truly i do. i do not apologize often, (Y/N), but you deserve one. I am sorry for being so selfish. I just couldn't forgive myself for falling for my squad members, a commoner nonetheless." He admitted, and that is when you felt yourself hold your breath.

Captain Nozel, your captain... is he falling for you?

Is it possible that I'm falling in love with you?

You weren't expecting an apology, but this was unexpected. You hadn't asked for this when you asked for the truth. But it didn't bother you in the least. Was it as if this was what you... desired?

The devilish, arrogant, crude man you hated with all your heart had been in love with you, it was hard to wrap your head around, really, but what confused the most was why-

why did you feel happy?

" I thought it was horrible, really, a Captain, a noble, and a commoner. Perhaps that's why i treated you the way i did. I was ashamed." he said, and you felt yourself grow disappointed, your heart dropped slightly.

"Y-you were ashamed of me?" you said quietly, not anticipating you pathetic you sounded.

i knew it, you thought.

at the sound of your voice, he finally turned to look at you, "Of myself... I didn't care, but it didn't matter. if only i had known how pointless it was to- but i was too caught up with what i had been taught, i only now realize that it doesn't matter."

you didn't know whether to be happy or upset, angry or elated. Half of you felt giddy, the confession made your face grow hot and your heart beat faster, but the other half of you felt mad, mad at him for treating you that way when things could have been so different.

"Commoner or not, the feelings never went away. But I suppose it doesn't matter after all, you will be leaving soon." he said, his voice growing sad, and his lips turning into a soft smile.

You don't think he's ever smiled around you like that.

"Do you still regret falling in love with me?" you asked quickly, not knowing why you couldn't just leave.

He looked at you for a long time, before replying "...No, I don't. And i never will." he said.

"And what if i stayed?" you asked, "What would you do?"

would it be possible? How would your teammates react, his family, the nobles, if he dared pursue a relationship with a commoner.

"It doesn't matter." he brushed off, as if the conversation was now too much for him, "You're leaving"

"But what if i stayed?" you asked again, he stared at you for a long time.

you knew he was thinking carefully about what he should say, his eyebrows furrowed, he clenched and unclenched his fists multiple times, seemingly nervous. his cheeks were dusted with a light pink, and this time, you saw it.

Nozel was nervous, it was a sight you never though you would see, and it made you nervous too.

"then... woud..you" he mumbled and you couldnt hear what he had said, you were shocked by this more timid version of nozel.

"Mumbling is rude" you said in a cheeky voice, the atmosphere felt less tense as a smile found its way to both of your lips as you turned his own words on him. he met youreyes and saw the blush that also covered your cheeks.

"i said, then i would love you" he repeated with a newfound confidence, before walking towards you and closing the distance between the both of you.

_______

#black clover #black clover fanfiction #black clover fic #black clover x reader #nozel silva #nozel silva x reader #nozel silva fanfic #nozel silva fic #silver eagles #anime #fanfic #fanfiction

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fangirl-imagines · 3 years

Note

I don't know how familiar you are with the Enneagrams personality types but I recently did it and decided to put the boys into what I think their type is. Let me know if you agree or not. Here are the Godfather's boys:

Michael - Type 1w9: principled, purposeful, self-controlled, perfectionistic, judicial and rational, they have a strong sense of right and wrong. A struggle for them can be workaholism. I also thought Michael might be a 5w4.

Sonny - Type 8w7: confident, sociable, impulsive, ambitious, independent, and comfortable with conflict. Type eights often struggle with anger issues.

Fredo - Type 2w1: warm-hearted, caring, people-pleasing, their altruistic and purposeful, but can also be self-sacrificing. Type Two's want to feel loved and appreciated. At their worst they can be manipulative, bitter, and resentful.

Tom - Type 1w2. Like Michael, he's smart, practical, principled, and has a belief in justice and equality. However, unlike Michael, Tom is a bit more warmer and interpersonal. A suggested job for a 1w2 is also to be a lawyer.

Vito - I had a weird amount of trouble with Vito, I settled on 3w2 though. Also known as The Charmer. I think this type has enough warmth and ambitiousness for Vito. Because, he's extremely loving and warm to those he loves but he also has his "work side" that is far more analytical and practical.

This post is very long so I'll stop. I did the types for other characters so if you liked this then I'll post what I think the Goodfellas and Casino boys types are. Sorry it was so long, lol.

Wow this feels really accurate for all of the guys! The Charmer definitely feels right for Vito especially since he has such dueling sides of his personality when he's with his family and friends compared to when he's working and being the Don.

You can't leave me hanging girl! I'd love to hear what you decided on for my guys Sam and Jimmy so please send in your types for Goodfellas and Casino. :D

#the godfather #michael corleone #sonny corleone #fredo corleone #tom hagen #vito corleone #submission

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thepettymachine · 4 years

Photo

Zodiac Legacy Challenge for the Sims 3

If you’re like me, I like a good legacy challenge with nice themes/aesthetics to place/plan out with each heir with enough wiggle room for creative interpretations. No. Well I’ve always wanted to do a zodiac legacy challenge but could never find the rules for TS3 or most of them were made for TS4. So I guess I thought I would just make one then.

This was all made on a whim but it’s a strong whim. So enjoy the whim. “@” me if you use the rules since I didn’t come up with a tag for this.

Credit:

I like to credit @tainoodles‘s TS4 Astrology Legacy as an inspiration/base for this, as well as many others I’ve found online.

A buttload of astrology sites

@starplumbob and @bravetrait for feedback. Thank you alot!

Without further ado

General Rules:

Finish the goals provided for each sign

You can move onto the next generation when all goals are met or you maintain them until the heir has aged up or both. Up to you.

You can start on any sign but you must go in order afterwards.

If I were to start on Leo, I would have to do Virgo next.

You can select any of the careers provided for the generation.

You don’t have to use all the traits assigned to a sign, but 1-2 are required.

You can use colors for aesthetic purposes/berry purposes, but they are not required.

Generation Aries: The Ram

♈︎ - Is everything a game to you? Well of course it is, you’re an Aries. First sign in the zodiac that also might be banned from playing simopoly. We admire a courageous spirit that knows what it wants, is driven, and is bluntly honest with us but can you let some of us, you know….win?! Not everything has to be a competition. Geez

Aesthetic Color(s): Red Traits: Workaholic, Ambitious, Brave, Hot-Headed Careers: Firefighter, Athlete, Military, Sports Agent

Goals:

Excel and reach the top of their career.

Fall In love and marry their first love fast

Has to do something athletic once a week

Master the athletic and handiness traits

Have them battle someone once a week

Generation Taurus: The Bull

♉︎ - What’s wrong with a little luxury in life. Food, art, sex, and your favorite snuggle blanket made of some high cotton that was not cheap is the lap of luxury for you. You can be really stubborn sometimes but once you set your mind on something, you aren’t changing it. It’s all because you know what’s best for you and nothing else matters. Aesthetic is key but you can also be a little bit greedy with your stuff. Sharing is caring Taurus

Aesthetic Color(s): Earth Tones, Pink Traits: Natural Cook, Loves the Outdoors, Frugal, Hopeless Romantic Careers: Gardner, Cook, Nectar Owner

Goals:

Master the cooking and gardening skills

Be best friends with their future spouse before dating

Learn at least 20 new recipes

Must have twins (can have more children than that)

Have very expensive/luxury items worth more than $500 in your home (it’s all about that aesthetic)

Woohoo with your spouse once a day

Generation Gemini: The Twins

♊︎ - Wow, how does it feel to be a twin. You look every bit like each other except for your dual personalities. Charming and youthful, you both are ahead of the curve as your quick wit and curiosity keeps you moving forward in life. You have alot of skills and talents and love communicating your ideas with others. Just remember where the brakes are at , as some of us can’t keep up. Tough luck you say.

Aesthetic Color(s): Yellow, mint green, Orange, neons Traits: Charismatic, Childish, Genius, Schmoozer Careers: Teacher, Writer, Private Investigator, Magician

Goals:

Both twins have to be heir

Have a very close relationship with your twin

Master 5 skills, including charisma

Spend most of their YA dabbling in different careers before deciding on one in their adult years.

Have multiple lovers before choosing/finding the one

Have to teach their children all of their skills and help them with their homework

Generation Cancer: The Crab

♋︎ - Why so crabby? I’m sorry had to throw that one in there. You tend to be a loyal compassionate creative person who wears their heart on their sleeve. Sometimes that sleeve might be drenched in your tears as you can be considered a little bit moody but we love you Cancer. You sense what a person is feeling and you help them through it. What a great lover and friend you are!

Aesthetic Color(s): Light Blue, Gray, Orange Traits: Nurturing, Family-Oriented, Over-Emotional, Brooding Careers: Sculptor, Daycare Profession, Resort Owner/Bed&Breakfast

Goals:

Sim must have a full relationship bar with their significant other before proposing

Have a lot of handmade items in your home

Have 5 children

Master the sculpting skill

Be best friends with all their children.

Get out of the house once a week

Generation Leo: The Lion

♌︎ - Royalty must be in your blood cause obviously you are the Queen/King and we are all just your royal subjects. With a mighty roar, you demand your spotlight and capture our attention with your spontaneous passionate heart. We follow your lead, my liege. For you will not make us forget it!

Aesthetic Color(s): Gold, Purple Traits: Snob, Brave, Dramatic, Star Quality Careers: CEO, Actor, Singer

Goals:

Live in a mansion/large house with more than 4 bedrooms

Become a five star celebrity

Marry a big time celebrity

Go on a big dates with your lover/spouse at least once a week

New Me each week - go to the spa and change your boring outfit at least once a week

Master the social networking skill

Generation Virgo: The Virgin

♍︎ - The modest stylish Virgo is always the hardest worker that delivers the best because they expect the best. You love to serve others and always pay attention to details with such an organized perfection towards the things you do. But sometimes that perfection creates high expectations of yourself and let’s just say judgement and criticism is not your color.

Aesthetic Color(s): Green, Brown, White Traits: Perfectionist, Perceptive, Neurotic, Neat Careers: Doctor, Journalist, Bookstore clerk

Goals:

Have a part-time job, make straight A’s, and join a club as a teenager

Have a college degree

Spouse must be compatible and must share at least 2-3 traits with them.

Can only have woohoo after marriage

House must be clean all the times (no outside help is allowed)

Must learn something new every week

New Recipe, read a new book, learn a new skill, take a class

Generation Libra: The Scales

♎︎ - You’re a giant balancing act, trying to keep everything fair and just. You love being around all kinds of people and also trying to make the world a better place. As much as you are a great mediator and friend, you’re also a great people pleaser. Please take time out of your day not to be around people and just focus on you.

Aesthetic Color: Green, White Traits: Friendly, Good, Social Butterfly, Party Animal Careers: Architect, Stylist, Musician

Goals:

Get Married to a sim that is complete opposite of you, then divorce them

Remarry a more compatible sim

Have 10 best friends

Host a party once a week

Complete 3 social opportunities each week

Master the guitar, bass, drums, and piano skills

Generation Scorpio: The Scorpion

♏︎ - Ah the mystery of the Scorpio. You have an intimidating front but behind that is an emotional side only certain people are allowed to see. You’re kinda into some dark occultist stuff and you’re also secretive about things. But you’re a passionate lover that can see love as a game of trials. Just a couple of tests to make sure that this is the right person for who you can finally put your guard down around.

Aesthetic Color: Black, Gray, Red Traits: Loner, Daredevil, Irresistible, Inappropriate Careers: Ghost Hunter, Law Enforcement (Forensics/Super Spy), Cemetery,

Goals:

You have a 3 dates policy before asking a sim to be in a relationship with you

Has at least 3 enemies (stop holding grudges)

Become an supernatural/occult sim

Master the martial arts and alchemy skills

Woohoo in 5 different places with your spouse

Do something inappropriate once a week

Generation Sagittarius: The Archer

♐︎ - Sagittarius you love your freedom and the adventures that come with it. You keep choosing the nontraditional path of life because you love to move past your horizons and set your own tradition. You’re brutally honest with everything and can tend to put your own desires above your own needs. As you constantly strive to be independent, you may grow distant from those who care about you the most.

Aesthetic Color: Red, Purple, Blue Traits: Adventurous, Easily-Impressed, Flirty, Animal Lover Careers: Adventurer, Equestrian, Photographer,

Goals:

Max out a visa in one country (if WA is applicable)

Have 20 friends

Have multiple partners throughout their life but only commit once as an adult

Have multiple kids from different partners (one has to be from another country if WA is applicable)

Have a horse, dog, cat, and/or other small animals in the house.

Be apart of all 3 social groups (nerd, jock, rebel)

Generation Capricorn: The Goat

♑︎ - Baaahh, you’re a goat. Smart and hardworking, Capricorn, you have a “get stuff done at the expense of your health and other things for the sake of achievement and financial gain” -breathes in- kind of motto. You’re so focused on reaching the top, you forget about the other things in life. But your disciplined perseverance and patience will reward you later in life.

Aesthetic Color: Black, Gray, White Traits: Workaholic, Unflirty, Computer Whiz, Bot Fan Careers: Inventor, Bot Arena/Bot Builder, Politician

Goals:

You don’t date until you’re an adult

You don’t get married until you reached the highest point in your career

Master the logic skill and a tech skill (inventing, bot building, or advanced technology)

Have more than 25,000 in savings (without cheating)

Have your children be straight A students throughout the childhood/teen years

Generation Aquarius: The Water Bearer

♒︎ - Individualistic Aquarius runs on it’s own beat. You have a strong desire for change and evolution to come to the world which is why you have a strong sense for social justice in order to make the world a better place. You care for others and that care might cause you to create a system of prioritizing them above all other things. While love is always a nice thing, you just don’t like the idea of being dependent on each other, so it would be nice if you don’t have to commit.

Aesthetic Color: Electric/Light Blue, White, Violet, Traits: Rebellious, Eco-Friendly, Avante garde, Commitment Issues Careers: Astronomer, Game Designer, Scientist

Goals:

Master the Street Art skill

Create a Utopia for the future and get a statue in Legacy park.

Have a friends with benefits relationship with your closest friend that results with a child

You never marry

Must live an eco-friendly lifestyle. (no dryer, bikes > cars, salvage everything, grow everything)

Generation Pisces: The Fish

♓︎ - You’re a fish out of water and the last constellation of the zodiac. You’re a dreamer, creative and very intuitive which makes you empathetic and open to other’s feelings. Your symbol is two fish because you tend to constantly swim back and forth between conflicting desires and have a bit of escapism problem . You can’t help it sometimes, it just how it makes you feel.

Aesthetic Color(s): Aquamarine, Sea Green, Lavender Traits: Artistic, Sailor, Supernatural Fan, Loves to Swim Careers: Fortune Teller, Lifeguard, Scuba Diver

Goals:

Become a mermaid/master the scuba diving skill

Marry a supernatural sim

Master the painting and writing skills

Have 2 childhood friends and keep in touch with them throughout your lives

Thank you for trying out this challenge. Feedback is always welcomed thing on this challenge.

#this took me 2 days to do #im tired now #will try it out later #sims #sims 3 #ts3 #ts3 challenge #ts3 legacy #ts3 legacy challenge #zodiac legacy challenge #anime scenery background for the win

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joshuas · 3 years

Text

christmas spirit

♫ pairing: park jinyoung x reader

♫ genre: slice-of-life, crack, fluff

♫ word count: 2.9k

♫ warnings: Nil of note!

♫ summary: After a disastrous Secret Santa event two years ago, Park Jinyoung and you had carried an intense rivalry throughout the years. Will the christmas spirit be enough to mend your fractured relationship?

♫ a/n: I’m excited to finally post my first Christmas drabble of the month, with none other than Park Jinyoung as my muse. A little forewarning - a lot of these oneshots have at least some crack concept behind it (at my friends’ requests). Enjoy!

“You’re such a Scrooge, Y/N. Purposely working on Christmas? What have you gotten against “unnecessary gathering of extended family to awkwardly talk about what’s happened in your life, and being constantly hounded to get married by family members that you barely know, and exchange presents with people that have probably gotten you the same thing every year”? You barely show any Christmas spirit.” Your friend, Mina, scoffed, watching you get ready for work. “Okay, first of all, that was a direct quote so everything is wrong with what you just said, since it was literally my argument as to why family Christmas gatherings with extended family is dumb, and yes I do! Look at my scarf! It’s red.” You defended. “Christmas colours are red and green.” She rolled her eyes. “What kind of Christmas spirit are you talking about then?” You raised your eyebrows, placing your hands on your hips. “Oh you know. That hallmark Christmas movie magic - random acts of kindness to strangers, carolling, making dinner for someone who doesn’t have anyone to celebrate the holidays with.” She said dreamily. “Yeah, no. That sounds like a lot of effort and requires talking to randoms.” You said disgustedly. “Well then, I dare you to be kind to the first person that enters your workplace, if you’re so deadset against helping out ‘randoms’.” She smirked. “...fine. But joke’s on you. I doubt anyone will be working on Christmas.” You waved your hand dismissively, grabbing your car keys. “We’ll see.” She smiled mischievously.

Work was extremely quiet, as expected. No one had come in, all opting to spend time with their families over actually getting stuff done. With deadlines in place straight after Christmas, you felt it was your duty, as assistant manager, to support your fellow colleagues in actually being able to meet that deadline. Another, more motivating aspect for you, was wiping the smirk off the other assistant manager, Park Jinyoung’s smug face. You hummed, typing away, “That sentence makes no sense.” A voice taunted over your shoulder. You turned, coming face to face with... speak of the devil... Park. Jinyoung. Even saying his name made your nose crinkle in disgust. Being probably one of the most irritating, hopelessly obnoxious perfectionists this world has ever seen, he was constantly getting on your nerves. You opened your mouth, then shut it instantly, remembering what Mina had dared you to do. Biting back a snarky remark, you fixed your face into a placated, polite smile, “Oh. Jinyoung. Are you the only one in today?” Please don’t be. Please don’t be. Tell me at least one person walked through the doors before you. He scoffed, “What? No comeback? I think you’re going soft on me, Y/N. And of course no one’s coming in today. No one’s as much as a workaholic as you.” You raised your eyebrows, “Speak for yourself. I’ve never seen you come in on a holiday. Don’t you usually hang out with your girlfriend or something?” Something flashed in his eyes, before returning to a blank, guarded expression, “I- You know how much I love to one-up you, Y/N. I’m not here for you. I’m here to beat you.” He sat down in his cubicle beside yours, turning on his desktop. “So... how did you know I was here?” You raised your eyebrows questioningly. “Mina told me.” He said without glancing from his computer screen. “I don’t understand how she’s friends with someone like you.” You muttered, typing away at your report. “What?” Jinyoung screwed his face up in annoyance. “I said—“ be nice, Y/N, “I said would you like a coffee? I was going to make some for myself. Tell me how you want yours made.” You internally groaned as he actually considered what you were saying. “I’ve literally never seen you use the coffee machine. Who’s to say that you won’t poison me?” He said dubiously. “I’ve used a coffee machine before. It shouldn’t be too different.” You said defensively. “...Alright, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and say yes — just black coffee for me.” He leaned back against his chair. You reluctantly got up, forcing a nod and a small smile as you entered the break room.

Turns out the machine was a lot more different than the simple maker you had at home. Wasting half an hour on trying to figure out how to turn on the machine itself, you were seconds away from tossing it in the bin as Jinyoung sauntered up to you, reaching from behind you to flick the power switch on. Swallowing back an irritated remark, you gritted your teeth, painfully expressing your gratitude, “Thanks.” “Now, a thank you? What has the world come to? Are you okay?” He placed his hand against your forehead, “Are you sure you should have come into work today?” You delicately plucked his hand away, “As much as I appreciate your concern for my well-being, I’m perfectly fine and should probably be getting back to work.” “But what about the coffee?” He said, puzzled. “You’re obviously more qualified than me to work the coffee machine, so you can make your own!” You flashed him a grin, patting him on the back as you exited the room.

A steaming cup of coffee was placed in front of you, “I figured you probably still wanted a coffee. You like mochas, right?” You looked at him in surprise, slightly touched by the kind gesture, “Oh! Um. Thank you.” You sipped at the coffee, the warm liquid heating your insides. “It’s okay... wow that was weird to say to you... no comment on how bad it was? Whether I poisoned you?” He looked at you quizzically. “Well— it’s not too bad.” You swallowed your pride back down, allowing him just this one compliment.

The two of you had this rivalry as soon as you entered the firm. Being the ones pitted against each other since being interviewed for a position, as you went up the ranks, Jinyoung was always there. You were almost certain that your work colleagues had helped maintain this rivalry, purely for entertainment purposes. At first, the two of you were pretty civil... until your first annual Secret Santa event, where you both had each other.

[2 years ago] ‘...and now I’ve just been rambling. Basically, what I’m trying to ask is... will you go out with me? Who am I kidding, you probably won’t even read this...’ You crossed out the last sentence, adding the finishing touches to your note in Jinyoung’s present. You wrapped it carefully before heading to work, nerves eating away at you as you went over 100 different ways that Jinyoung would react to your confession. Get a grip, Y/N.

“Who do you have for Secret Santa, Jinyoung?” A gaggle of girls (who had an office pool going for who he had) surrounded the guy, hounding him for an answer on who it may be, and what he bought. “You know, asking him who he has basically defeats the purpose of Secret Santa.” You raised your eyebrows at them as they approached you and your colleagues in the courtyard. Jinyoung flashed you a grateful smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners, as the group of girls dissipated in annoyance. Your stomach fluttered. He was kinda adorable when he smiled. As the gift giving pursued, it soon came your turn. Smoothing down your clothes, you picked up your carefully parcelled gift, placing it carefully in Jinyoung’s arms. Slightly in shock of this revelation, he opened his present, eyes lightening up in excitement as he saw your gift. “Y/N! This— wow. How did you get this?” He gazed at you in wonderment. “Well, a couple of weeks ago you were a little bit upset about missing out on grabbing tickets for a certain author’s book signing. To be honest, it was purely coincidental... I actually really love that series too, and managed to grab tickets. So, I decided to buy you a signed copy of the latest edition.” You explained, blood rushing to your cheeks as everyone gathered around to see his present. He stood up, giving you a quick hug, “Thank you. This is probably the best Christmas gift I’ve gotten.” He whispered in your ear before returning to his seat. “So... Jinyoung, who did you have?” One of your coworkers questioned, looking curiously at the circular shaped present beside him. “Well... I actually had Y/N.” He placed the gift in your hands, his tone slightly laced with nervousness. Curious, you unwrapped the gift to reveal... a stress ball? Not gonna lie, that’s a pretty disappointing gift, considering what you gave him. Your coworkers teased and taunted, “Ooh Jinyoung, are you trying to say something to Y/N?” “What? That they’re a stress head? We all know that. Heck, they should know that.” “Haha... yeah. That’s exactly what I was going for.” Jinyoung said resignedly, trying to scope out your reaction and grab your attention. Dragging your gaze to his, you squeezed the ball, ignoring the unusual hardness within it (great, not only was it a cheap present, it was also faulty?), forcing a small but bitter smile, “Thanks, Jinyoung.” Of course he wasn’t any different to the rest of your toxic colleagues. You ignored the bitterness blossoming in your heart, tears burning in your eyes, as you excused yourself from the courtyard. Mentally cursing yourself as you thought back to what you had written at the end of the book, you prayed he’d never read it. After all, something like that could never happen now. Any feelings you had for Park Jinyoung had been replaced with resentment.

You weren’t one to get too upset over materialistic things like that, but after analysing every other gift he had gotten your fellow coworkers, regardless of the occasion, you felt as though he had been to stingy, perhaps because he disliked you. Perhaps, it also showed how fickle you feelings were for him, but you didn’t care too much about that. And so, the slightly unhealthy rivalry began.

After working solidly for a couple of hours, your stomach grumbled. Jinyoung glanced at you,

“Hungry already?”

Really? He was judging you over your bodily functions? “Of course not.” You turned back to your computer, ignoring further pleas from your stomach. “Y/N. I wasn’t saying that to judge you. I’m hungry too. How about we both head out to the courtyard to take a breather?” He rolled his eyes, and grabbed his lunch, heading for the door, glancing at you expectantly.

The two of you sat in silence on the bench, quietly munching at your food. “Do you remember when we used to do Secret Santa out here?” He asked, glancing at you. “Mhm...” You clenched your jaw. “Your gift still triumphs as the best Christmas I’ve ever gotten. I’ve re-read that book more than any one I own.” He smiled softly, recalling the memory. You almost choked on your sandwich, “You read the book?” “Well... that’s generally what you do when you get a book.” “The whole book?” You pleaded silently for him to answer in the negative. “From cover to cover.” He nodded. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Sensing the silence, he spoke tentatively, “I read your note, as well.” You covered your face with your hands, refusing to interact with him. “...and—“ “And nothing! What you read was just— just an illusion!” You blurted out, about to bolt. “Wait, Y/N. That day. That day was so confusing.” He grabbed your hand lightly, imploring you to sit down again. “Confusing how? As far as I’m concerned, you got me a stress ball for Christmas because I was too much of a stress-head.” Your tone defensive as you crossed your arms. “Wait— so you never found it?” His eyes widened in realisation. “Found what?” You said, annoyed at his cryptic tone. “Do you still have the stress ball?” He asked, impatient. “Yeah, I think it’s in one my desk drawers.” You said uneasily. “Wait here, I’ll grab it.” “But I don’t want you to go through my... okay never mind...” A couple of minutes later, he came back, stress ball... and a knife. You glanced concerningly between the two objects as he cut a square of the stress ball off, taking out a small box. “You seriously couldn’t feel this within it?” He asked incredulously. “Well to be honest, I was more upset at the fact that you got me a stress ball when you got other people better gifts... like how you got Mina the tea set she was vying to get for a while... Also, how? How did you even think of putting a box in there? That’s— I don’t even know. The fact that you think someone would think of getting a knife to cut open a present someone has gifted them astounds me. To me, it just felt like a faulty gift.” You retorted defensively. “Obviously my creativity and quirkiness was lost on you, seeing how you thought I was cheap-skating your present. And, I got you a stress ball because you’re almost always clenching your hands! Yes, you stress, probably a lot more than half the people in this workplace, but I didn’t get you that to make fun of you. Clenching your fists a lot can cause stiffness in your fingers which could lead to rheumatoid arthritis [I’m no medical student but I did some research. Please don’t @ me if I’m wrong!] in the future. I don’t think you want to be paying off medical bills worth ten times the amount of that tea set for physical therapy. Besides, the actual gift is within this box.” He sighed exasperatedly, handing you the box. You opened the lid, revealing the most exquisite looking earrings, the gemstones glimmering under the sunlight. Written underneath the lid was a note, Y/N, I don’t really know where to start with this... but I really like you. Your work ethic constantly astounds me, the way you’re able to complete any task you set your mind to is a quality I wish I had. Not to mention your selflessness and kindness - the way you look out for our team and always go above and beyond what is expected is one of your most admirable qualities. So I hope this isn’t too forward of me, but I’d love to take you out for a date sometime. In fact, meet me at Glow Café at 9am tomorrow morning. I look forward to seeing you there. Whether you see me as a friend or share the same sentiments as me, I’d love your company. — Jinyoung P.S. I hope you like the earrings! I heard that they were your favourite colour :) You looked up at Jinyoung in shock, your heart warmed at the sincerity and kindness of his gift. “I—“ He broke you off, “It looks like we both had the same thing to confess back then. Perhaps if things had turned out differently, we’d be in a different situation to what we’re in now. But hey, we can’t fix the past, but we can change the future. And as much as I adore our banter, I’ve missed talking to you normally without sarcasm.” He held out his hand in a truce. You raised your eyebrows, impressed at his sudden maturity, “Look at you. I guess you’re actually starting to act like an assistant manager for our team. Is the Christmas spirit getting to you or something?” You shook his hand dubiously. “Ha ha. If we’re being completely honest, your sudden kindness did help bring things into perspective for me.” He pointed out. “Really? Wow, the Christmas spirit did get to you.” You laughed. “To be honest, I haven’t really been feeling the Christmas spirit since Yuna broke up with me.” He laughed bitterly. “She broke up with you? Why?” You asked incredulously. “She thinks I’m too much of a a workaholic.” “Welcome to my world...” you sighed. A silence fell over the two of you, as you contemplated in your head. “...So, you’re not spending Christmas with anyone?” He shook his head, looking dejectedly at the ground. Oh whatever. Do it, Y/N. Embrace the Christmas spirit. “Do you want to spend it with me?” You asked tentatively, “as friends. Obviously.” You added quickly. “Are you sure?” He asked, eyes wide. “Dead serious. I’m trying the no sarcasm thing, as you can see.” He laughed, “Okay. I’ll come. As a friend... Do I need to make anything beforehand? Do you need help with cooking? Do you know how to cook? I mean seeing how well you did with the coffee machine, I’m kind of concerned.” He questioned. “Slow down, Gordon Ramsey. Of course I know how to cook. I’m an adult, for God’s sake. And no, you don’t need to bring anything but yourself.” You smiled, standing up. “You speak so much about the Christmas spirit. But this. This is peak hallmark Christmas movie cliche.” He noted, lightly elbowing you. “I guess it is.” You shrugged your shoulders as the two of you went back to work, laughing and chatting away, as friends that had not seen each other in a while. Perhaps it was the Christmas spirit that had brought the two of you closer together. After all, the two of you spent many more Christmas’s together... not just as friends.

✿ masterlist!

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shock · 4 years

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while the events that happened at the end of getting my degree didn’t make me bitter about social work I think it definitely turned me off of social work in America. Administrative decisions actively working against us, our health, the safety of our clients and the relationships we’ve spent months building with them, expecting us to completely bury the feelings of being denied termination with clients I know for a fact are now stuck without resources or help in abusive, unhealthy environments, my clients in low income areas who needed educational support more than ever are getting less than they started with, every step of the way in this crisis has really left me bitter at the state of capitalism WRT our livelihoods and basic mental health as luxuries that are too demanding to care about instead of basic human rights...

I don’t know where I’d be without the people supporting me in my life right now specifically because they have the economic security to do so, and I’m so in need of a break. Getting into grad school was good for me to see that I’m CAPABLE, but I’m so disheartened by the complete collapse of administration when it comes to making decisions that are right to prioritize money over real people, ignoring the needs of its students and their families, ignoring that an overwhelming majority of social work students do what they do because of prior experience being failed by this system and having fantastic ideas to make it better getting repeatedly shot down...

I’m not going to travel this year, I don’t think it’s safe at all, but I’m really excited to be in a position where I have a new plan with people I trust and I get to like... be with someone who not only accepts that I want to work from home and build up skills with tools and gardening and my hobbies, but wants to support that and sees my drive as an asset. I’ve always been such a perfectionist workaholic and that’s what’s been expected of me but like... wow, once summer is over I’m really just. So glad that my life led me to this point where it’s okay for me to not jump straight into doing social work in this environment in the way I always imagined it turning out because I didn’t feel comfortable with the alternatives.

Like I’m quiet about my relationships online b/c that’s how I am but I’m in love and working on the future and being excited about it and feeling loved and I can’t wait to just... exist, and be that person free of my academic sense of self. I can’t wait to not have this insanely demanding barrier to working on hobbies I’ve always dreamed about having time for. I can’t wait until these last few assignments are done.

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rebelbyrdie · 3 years

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SwanQueen Christmas AU Idea

Corporate lawyer Regina Mills lives life in the fast lane. She is a workaholic, coffeeholic, borderline alcoholic perfectionist. Social worker and school counselor Emma Swan is a dedicated single mother and enjoys her slow small town life. This Christmas, their paths cross and nothing will ever be the same.

“No, Zelena.” Regina grit her teeth and spoke to her sister through the bluetooth in her car. “I can’t guarantee I will be there on Christmas Day. You know that.”

“Mother and That Bastard-” By Bastard she meant their step-father Robert Gold. “-are going to run you to death. They’ll never make you a partner. Mother likes having you under her thumb too much.”

She was probably right. Regina just needed a few more years to establish herself and to build up a portfolio of clients that were loyal to her and not Mills & Gold.

“Robby and Rolly want to see their Auntie for Christmas. They miss you. I miss you.”

Regina felt her heart lurch. The children had already lost their father and grandfather, and Regina felt like she neglected them. Zelena did not need to pile on the guilt.

“Daddy would want you there too”

There, of course, was their father’s home in San Juan, Puerto Rico.

Regina wanted to be there too.

“I mean honestly. Gold sent you to Canada. You’re not even able to practice there!”

Regina sighed. “That was last week, Z. I’m on the way to Bangor, then Baltimore with a quick stop in Manhattan for a meeting.”

“Jesus, Regina. Tell me you’re wearing a mask. I can’t believe Mother is having you fly all over the country. Countries.”

Regina scoffed. “I’m driving, Zelena.

The conversation went downhill from there. Regina could feel a migraine take hold. It was a week before Christmas, the snow flurries were turning into a blizzard around her, and she would never make it to Bangor tonight.

After some more ranting, Zelena changed the subject. She regaled Regina with every minute detail of the children’s lives. Robyn, two and a half, was now obsessed with Frozen. Rolland, five, was having problems concentrating during his distance-learning kindergarten classes. So on and so forth.

Regina was only half-listening. She was more focused on squinting through the near white out conditions she was trying to drive through.

She didn’t see the moose in the road until it was far too late.

***

Emma and Henry were half-way through their Christmas claymation marathon. Rudolph was just about to save Christmas when there was a loud crash outside. Emma groaned. She knew a car crash when she heard one. Route 108 was notoriously difficult to navigate, especially for tourists. Add in the snow and there was bound to be trouble.

Henry sighed and paused the movie. “I’ll get the big flash light.” Emma got up and went to get her coat. They were miles away from Storybrooke proper and it would be impossible to get a tow truck or the cops out this late.

Just past their driveway there was a black car in the ditch smashed against an old oak tree. A moose, Henry had affectional nicknamed him Bullwinkle, was ambling across the road, completely unharmed.

Emma held the flashlight steady. “Hello!”

She didn’t see any lights or movements in the unfamiliar car. It was a nice car too. A sleek black Mercedes with New York plates.

She pushed through the show, which was already up to her knees, and to the drivers side door. She wrenched it open. The driver was alone and slumped over the airbag. Emma could tell they were breathing, but not much else.

“Shit.”

She carefully pulled the driver back so she could see their face. Her face.

“Wow.”

The unconscious woman’s face was battered and bleeding, but the damage couldn’t hide her beauty.

Emma bent down and pushed the dark hair out of the woman’s face. Blood pouring from her scalp and cuts to her nose, cheek and lip.

“Ma’am. Can you hear me?”

The woman’s eyes fluttered open. They were unfocused and one pupil was much slower to adjust to the light of Emma’s flashlight then the other. She had a concussion for sure. She also had the most gorgeous eyes Emma had ever seen. Dark Guinness with swirls of whiskey, intoxicating. Emma had always been a sucker for brown eyes.

“Hey.”

The woman blinked. “Wha-” Then she grimaced in pain. “What happened?”

She was only wearing a white (quickly turning red) shirt and a skirt that was hitched up to her thighs. She was missing a high heeled shoe. Emma didn’t see a coat anywhere, but the crash had tumbled everything around. The woman was already starting the shiver. Shock plus the cold. Emma needed to get her inside, fast.

“My name is Emma. You wrecked your car by my property. My house is just over there. We need to get you inside before the storm really sets in.”

The woman’s eyes were sharpening. She was testing her limbs one by one, awareness coming back to her. She set one foot, the heeled one, down outside of the car. It sank right into the snow and she jerked her leg back in. The heel stayed behind.

“Ma’am, you should let me help you.”

The woman slowly, with shaking hands, unlatched her seatbelt.

“Regina. My name is Regina Mills.”

Emma reached in to help the woman out of the car. “Well, Regina Mills. Welcome to Storybrooke.”

#swan queen #ficlet

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 5 years

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The Girl Next Door (Part 11) - Starry Night

Summary: Dean takes the reader out on a surprise date...

The Girl Next Door Masterlist

Pairing: Neighbor/Mechanic!Dean x baker!reader

Word Count: 5,800ish

Warnings: language

A/N: Enjoy!

Reader’s POV

You woke up warm, a blanket half draped over you. Fingers were playing in your hair and you tilted your head up, Dean laying beside you with his head propped up in his free hand.

“Good morning,” he said gently, giving you a kiss. “Sleep good?”

“Yeah,” you said, stretching out some, curling back onto your side and into his chest. He giggled, such a cute noise you lifted your head to find his face. “Your bedhead is amazing. It’s like a spiky little fluffy hedgehog climbed up there or something.”

“Oh. Well. If you want to talk bedhead,” he said, gaze darting around. “You are one to be saying something right now, sweetheart.”

He smiled and ran his thumb over a piece, that one piece that always stuck straight up somehow, smiling when it popped straight back up again.

“You’re a very good snuggler,” you said.

“It’s one of my many skills,” he teased. “I’m very good at being a big spoon and cuddling under blankets too.”

“Suddenly I wish it were winter,” you laughed. He chuckled as you sat up, watching you look around for your crutches. “Uh, Dean. Not to ruin the moment but I gotta use the bathroom.”

“Okay,” he said. You ran a hand over your face to wipe away the light blush, Dean sitting up and pulling you into his lap.

“I can walk Dean,” you laughed as he carried you into your bathroom.

“Yeah but this is faster. Shout if you need anything,” he said. He shut the door after himself and you got a few minutes alone, pushing open the door when you finished to find the bed made and your crutches up against the wall. You snagged them just as Dean came back in the room. “So I’ll let you get dressed and if you need help, Jack said he could since I don’t want to be seeing things you aren’t comfortable showing yet if that’s alright.”

“I’ll be fine,” you said. Jack popped around the corner and you asked him to grab a tank top from your closet. He pulled out a light orange colored Henley one. Normally you would have worn your favorite faded denim shorts with it but you were on loose clothing down there for the next little while.

You grabbed a pair of blue running shorts instead and a new pair of underwear and bra from your dresser before you sat back on the bed. Jack left and you could hear he and Dean talking farther down the hall. Surprisingly, getting your bottom half dressed was far easier than the top. You got your bra on decent enough but your side ached. Looking down, there was a large bruise, an ugly dark purple, running all along your left side. You took a deep breath and tugged on your tank top, laying back through gritted teeth when you finished.

“You doing okay in there? Sounds not fun,” called Dean.

“I’m okay. Pain meds wore off is all. You guys can come in,” you said. “Someone bring me Tylenol please.”

“Hey,” said Dean, stepping inside and helping you sit up. Jack ducked into your bathroom and exited with a bottle and glass of water. “Shouldn’t you take the medicine the doctor gave you?”

“It’s too strong. I don’t like it. This is fine,” you said, taking a pill. “I’ll take it slow for a few days.”

“Alright. You up for some breakfast?” asked Dean. You nodded, Dean kneeling down in front of you. “Climb on. Careful of that leg.”

“I know,” you said, getting on his back. Three minutes later you were set down in Sam’s kitchen, sniffing the air and getting a whiff of strawberries and cream. “Mmm. I should make some danishes this week.”

“You ain’t making nothing, sis,” said Jack, setting a glass down in front of you. “You’re off that leg all week.”

“I got orders to make up,” you said, pursing your lips until you stared at Sam who was rolling his eyes. “What?”

“Let us bake. I’m off babysitter duty and Dean’s going back part time everyday this week but he and Jack are home in the afternoon. We can help out,” said Sam.

“You’re not supposed to be working Sam,” you said.

“Well neither are you,” he said. “And it’s baking, not case law.”

“How about you two rest and you make up a list of what Jack and I need to make and then in the afternoon, we can do it, hm?” said Dean. “Sound good?”

“I got deliveries at noon tomorrow though,” you said, Sam sliding a waffle covered plate in front of you.

“We can make cookies today!” said Avy. Dean looked at you and you sighed, nodding your head.

“Alright but Jack is in charge since he’s been helping out a little in the afternoon’s,” you said.

“Perfect. This’ll be great.”

“Boys are silly,” said Avy as you hung out on your back porch later that day, drawing a few pictures with her.

“Oh yes they are,” you said.

“You know we can hear you two!” said Dean through your open back door. You laughed and reached up to open the door, poking your head in.

“While it was funny the first time, please don’t drop that bag of flour all over the floor too,” you said.

“We got it,” said Sam.

“I smell something burning,” said Avy.

“Did you boys set the timer to eleven minutes?” you asked with a hum.

“Yes...how long before they were in there when we did that?” asked Sam.

“New batch boys. I don’t sell burnt things,” you said.

“This is hard,” grumbled Sam as he stepped outside. “I’m playing the brain card and taking a break.”

“Help me up?” you asked, Sam lifting you to your feet when he came onto the back porch. “Thanks.”

You popped inside on one crutch, much easier to get around on in the house, Dean and Jack staring at the empty mixing bowl. You took a seat on one of the counter stools, Jack flicking his eyes in your direction. You let your own wander over to the directions you had printed in the binder, Dean scratching his head.

“Alright. Dean, you measure out everything. Jack, dump the old cookies and wash off the sheet carefully. I’ll walk you through it.”

“I’m exhausted,” said Dean, plopping down in a kitchen chair a few hours later, staring at the pink boxes you had stacked and ready to go. “It was only chocolate chip cookies too.”

“And it’s tiring work,” you said, Jack frosting a few of the sugar cookies you’d made. “Dean, you guys really don’t have to do this after work tomorrow. I can get around the kitchen pretty good. I-”

“You see what I’ve been dealing with my whole life?” said Jack, lifting up the cookie sheet, a pretty decent job if you had to say so. “Always been a perfectionist this one.”

“You do remember when I didn’t even exist to dad for like...years,” you said. “You were the golden child for quite a while.”

“I get the feeling your dad was a bit of a hard ass,” said Dean, leaning back in his seat. You shrugged, Jack doing the same.

“He loved us and I was very upset when he and mom died. We both were. Dad just wasn’t...affectionate really. He worked a lot. Valued intelligence,” said Jack.

“It wasn’t until I told him I wanted to be a neurosurgeon that he looked in my direction. Apparently I should have said I was going to be a doctor when I was four like Jack did and not fourteen,” you said.

“When’d you drop out of school, Jack?” asked Dean, a smile in his voice.

“After freshman year. I mean, I like school. I was good at it. It just...dad had my entire life planned out already. I had no say. I think I was more afraid of turning into him than anything,” said Jack.

“Yeah. I understand that,” said Dean, looking over his shoulder and back at Sam’s house, his parents car parked in the driveway. “So your mom raised you two? You’re both relatively normal human beings.”

“Yes and no,” you said, glancing to Jack. “Our mom…”

“Mom was the kind of woman that slept with the tennis instructor,” said Jack. “She you know, raised us and all that and made up for what dad didn’t do but if she had a date, she had a date. Mom and dad had a very...open relationship. Grandma watched us mostly until I got old enough to stay home with Y/N alone.”

“Wow. We’re the freaking Brady bunch compared to your family,” said Dean.

“They were never cruel or unkind. Very focused on their goals was all, whether that was a job or men or whatever,” you said.

“So when I decide to not have a life plan, it sort of made them both tailspin,” said Jack.

“Still. It’s your life. Not theirs,” said Dean, twitching up his lip in a smile. “I’ll be back over in a few minutes if that’s alright. I want to say hey to my parents before they head home.”

“Dean,” you said. He stopped on the way to the door. “Tell them thank you for bringing dinner by for us tonight. I appreciate that.”

“I’ll be back soon,” he said. The house was quiet once he left, Jack finishing up the last few cookies, packing them neatly in a box. He tucked them all away in the overnight storage area, washing up a few things before he started to dry off his hands.

“Jack,” you said, Jack tossing down a towel on the counter. “Do you still paint?”

“I haven’t painted in a long long time,” he said.

“Would you paint something for the house? Maybe something for the front entrance. That wall where the little table is?” you asked.

“I can do that. What are you looking for?” he asked.

“Surprise me?”

“Dad always thought it was a stupid hobby.”

“Dad thought baking was a stupid hobby too. I love dad, Jack. I do. I love mom too. But they’re gone. I’m never going to call you a failure because you don’t want to be a workaholic asshole doctor like he was that barely noticed his own children. Dean’s got a point. These are our lives, Jack. We can do what we want with them. If you want to work in the garage the rest of your life, shit you want to go be a barista, mulch yards, go paint, I don’t care. I want us both to be happy and...I’m really starting to feel happy, Jack. For the first time. You seem more like yourself again too. Mom and dad wasn’t your fault. Whatever happened at that Bryerwood place wasn’t your fault. I almost died two days ago, Jack. It was close, closer than Sam and I made it sound. I just want you to know that if something happened to me, I’m really happy you’re my brother and I love you and you better go and get your ass over to the Winchesters because you’ll be a hot mess and they’ll take care of you, alright?”

“You still love me?” he asked.

“Yeah. I do,” you said. “I’m sorry if you felt like I didn’t.”

“You gave me a second chance. I already knew. It’s nice to hear it is all,” he said.

“How can I not love my big brother?” you teased.

“I love you too,” he said. He stepped over and gave you a hug, the door opening and closing, your head turning to give Dean a smile and an aw.

“Was there a moment?” he smirked.

“Moment’s done,” said Jack. “I’m going to shower and crash. I’m beat.”

“Alright. Get some sleep, Jackie,” you said.

“Night, puppy,” he said.

“Puppy?” asked Dean.

“He wanted a puppy when my mom was pregnant. He thought he was getting a puppy, not a little sister,” you said. “He was only like two so you gotta give him some slack.”

“I thought Sammy was going to be a watermelon,” said Dean. “Mom’s stomach got huge.”

“I bet. He was probably a big baby. Do you mind locking up the front door?” you asked, starting to head for the stairs. “If you’re staying over that is.”

“Would you like me to stay?” he asked, holding up a backpack. “Whatever you want is fine with me.”

“What are you comfortable with?” you asked.

“Oh my god. You two are disgusting,” called Jack from the upstairs balcony. “Just stay over, dumbass.”

“I think I liked you better when you were antsy, you know!” shouted back Dean. “Kids these days, I swear.”

“What are you, a thousand?” said Jack. “I’m only five years younger.”

“Excuse me, sweetheart,” said Dean with a smirk after locking the back door. “I have to go give your big brother a reason why he should be grateful he doesn’t have one of his own.”

“Dean’s coming to destroy you, just an fyi,” you said as you looked upwards, Dean jogging past you and up the stairs, Jack’s feet pounding but you heard a thud and pair of laugh’s coming from the hall. “Avy you were right. Boys are silly.”

Monday Morning

“Hi girlie,” you said, smiling when Eileen stepped inside the house.

“Could you guys like, stop dying, please. This is too stressful for me,” she said, setting her bag down by the door. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you said, Eileen raising an eyebrow. “Yes, Nurse Lehay, I’m fine.”

“You staying off that leg?” she said, throwing an arm under your shoulder. You hummed as she helped you upstairs and to your room, setting you down on your bathroom bench.

“I forgot how strong you get lugging around bodies all day,” you said.

“Says the chick picking up all those sacks of flour and sugar all day long,” she said, going to your shower and turning it on. She stared at you a moment and you sighed. “Y/N, we were roommates. How many times have I seen you naked?”

“I know. Just...don’t freak on me,” you said.

“I’m a nurse. It takes a lot to freak me out,” she said. You peeled off your shirt, Eileen closing her eyes.

“Totally not noticeable, right?” you said.

“That is a nasty bruise,” she said, kneeling beside you. You took off your bra and covered your chest with an arm, letting her get a better look. “Well, it ain’t pretty but there are signs of healing. I’m shocked you didn’t break any of these ribs. Must have eaten your wheaties that day.”

“Sam grabbed the wheel and turned it. He was looking that direction thankfully. I don’t think I’d be walking if he hadn’t,” you said. “Or breathing.”

“You never know with car accidents. Sometimes they’re bad, sometimes you walk away with only a few scratches,” she said. “Alright. First we get you in the shower and then I can put on a new bandage for you.”

“I wish all patients were like you,” teased Eileen after your shower and you were dressed on the bed. “You know how uncomfortable all the bending is.”

“I have tweaked my back changing bandages on people so many times,” you said, lowering your leg back to the bed. “So you officially done with Mr. Winchester next door?”

“Nursing, yes. Other aspects are...starting up,” she said with a smile.

“Sam’s a good guy, Eileen,” you said. “He likes you. You got to be pretty special for Sam Winchester to like you.”

“I know. I totally broke all the rules with him but...he’s sweet. We’re going out tonight,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear. “You and Dean doing anything fun?”

“Babysitting Avy with him and my brother?” you laughed. “I’m sure I’m in for a thrilling night myself.”

You were a little surprised when Sam dropped Avy off himself at your house that night. You were more surprised when Jack said he was watching her that night.

“Avy, why don’t you go help Y/N pick out a dress?” asked Sam. She took your hand and with a little help from Jack, you were upstairs, standing in front of your closet.

“What about this one?” asked Avy. You laughed and shook your head.

“That was my prom dress, Avy. I don’t know why I even have that still. How about one of those light summer ones on the end?”

She pursed her lips and stood in front of the three of them, two you’d never even worn beside the store. She pointed at the white one with little flowers on it, the tag still hanging on it.

“I think we got a winner,” you said. “Can you get up on your tiptoes and take it off the rack for me?”

“Here you go,” she said, handing it over. You ripped off the tags and dropped them in the garbage. “Mommy had a dress like that.”

“She did? Do you remember doing stuff with your mom?” you asked, Avy hopping into the bedroom while you changed in the closet.

“Not really. I know she was nice and daddy loved her and I loved her though. He used to be really quiet after she died, like at nighttime,” she said. “Uncle Dean lived with us for a while when I was really little.”

“You know Avy, my and Jack’s mom died too, and our dad,” you said, stepping out into the room, taking a seat on the bench. “If you ever want to talk about that stuff, we understand how it can feel funny.”

“Daddy talks about mommy a lot since his accident. But happy now if that makes sense,” she said.

“It does. Did your daddy talk to you about Eileen?”

“Mhm. I like her. She makes daddy happy and she’s gonna take me and him to the zoo on Saturday!” she said.

“Well Eileen’s been my friend for a while and I know you guys are gonna get along great,” you said. “Would you mind grabbing my crutch over there?”

“Mhm. I told daddy to stop getting in car accidents,” she said as she handed it to you and you stood up.

“I second that,” you said, smiling at her and twirling the bottom of your dress. “What do you think? Look good?”

“Uh huh. Uncle Dean will like that,” she said.

“I bet he will,” you said. “You have fun with Jack tonight. Beat him in Mario Kart for me.”

“Okey dokey,” she said. You laughed and headed out of the room, managing the stairs with Jack’s help.

Sam said goodbye to Avy before he left and you sat out on the front porch, smirking as you saw Dean slip out of Baby he’d parked out front. He was wearing a light red flannel, gray tee and some faded jeans, hands behind his back as he wandered up the driveway.

“Well who told you you were allowed to be that beautiful?” he said. You bit down your smile, Dean hopping onto the porch, bending down to deliver a kiss. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you said, Dean pulling you to your feet and picking you up. “Can I keep you?”

“Please do,” he said, laughing as he got you settled into Baby, your crutches in the back.

“So where are you taking me all dolled up like this?” you asked.

“It's a surprise,” he said, bopping you on the nose. “You just sit back, relax, and let me take care of everything.”

Dean smiled and turned on the radio, backing out of the driveway and heading down the street, driving until you hit some back roads and you started to hit true farm country. He had the window down, singing along to one of the songs, tufts of soft hair moving in the wind. You took a quick picture, smiling before you set your phone back in your lap.

“Dean?”

“Hm?”

“You look so happy,” you said.

“I got my girl. I got my Baby. I got some tunes on a perfect summer night. I’m the happiest guy in the world, sweetheart,” he said.

“So what’s my surprise?” you asked, Dean shaking his head.

“Nope. I’m not telling. You just hold tight for a hot minute,” he said. You went along with him, Dean pulling off on a random dirt road between two fields, driving slowly as the sun started to set, the sky a brilliant orange and pink. He drove for only a minute and he drove onto the grass, pulling to a stop. “We’re here.”

“Middle of nowhere? We sure are,” you laughed.

“Oh but my lady, you are at the most exclusive locale in the world,” he said, grinning ear to ear. “Out of the car with you.”

He hopped out and had you sit on the hood, humming while he grabbed some things out of the trunk.

“Don’t you dare turn around on me,” he warned, a lot of thudding and dropping going on behind you.

“Or what?” you laughed.

“Or...shut up,” he said, chuckling to himself. He worked for a few more minutes, as you watched the sun dip lower, Dean suddenly in front of you. “Trust me?”

“Definitely.”

He smiled and picked you up, your arms going around his shoulders.

“Close your eyes for me, Y/N. We aren’t going far,” he said. You did as told, Dean walking the two of you around to the other end. “I’m gonna set you down and spin you the other way. Keep ‘em closed and hold onto my shoulders, okay?”

“Okay,” you said. You felt your feet touch the ground, Dean sliding around to your bad leg, wrapping an arm around your waist to help keep the weight off of it.

“Alright. You can open now.”

You blinked a few times, turning your head up to look at him, giving him a side hug.

He had a cooler set down near a log, a blanket spread out on the ground and a tasty looking meal set out for you on top of it. There was a fire going just off to the side and you had no idea where he even got the wood from to start it.

“As I said, very exclusive place,” he said.

“I love it,” you said. You took a seat on the blanket, Dean grabbing you each a drink for your dinner. It was a homemade meal but delicious, Dean spending more time looking at you than paying his food any attention. He held up a finger and got up, turning on the radio in Baby, quiet music filtering over to where you sat.

When you finished, he pulled the blanket over to the fire, laying on top of it and back against the log, tucking you into his side.

“The stars are starting to come out,” you said, the sun long gone below the horizon.

“Yeah,” said Dean softly. “You can see a lot of them out here. Away from town.”

“Would you want to go on a weekend trip sometime? Once my leg is better,” you said. “Just us?”

“I would love that,” he said, kissing your cheek. “We could even take a few days more if you wanted.”

“Where do you want to go? The beach? Camping?” you asked.

“As long as I don’t have to fly, I’m all ears,” he said.

“Anywhere you’ve ever wanted to go and haven’t?”

“I just had the stupidest idea,” he said as he grinned.

“Hit me with it,” you said, watching a few flames.

“Road trip. A food road trip. We hit up some of the best barbecue places in the country. Texas, Georgia,Tennessee. It could be fun,” he said. “But like I said, it’s really stupid.”

You sat up, staring at him before you whacked him in the arm.

“That’s the best idea ever! Hell yeah we’re doing that!” you said. “That’ll be so much fun!”

“Really?” he said. You nodded, Dean smiling to himself. “Well I say we got ourselves a little road trip soon then.”

“Awesome. It’ll give me something to look forward to besides tossing that stupid crutch in the trash,” you said, Dean pulling you back to his chest.

“Hey, it’s not all that bad. I got plenty of excuses to give you piggyback rides now,” he said, resting his head against the top of yours. “How’s your side feeling today?”

“Sore still but I’ll survive. You’re very comfy,” you said.

“You’re very beautiful,” he said, your bandage peeking out from the bottom of your dress, Dean’s finger trailing over the edge of it. “Y/N. This thing we have going on...this relationship...it means a lot to me.”

“Me too. This isn’t a fling for me, Dean,” you said, tilting your head up with a smile.

“I know, sweetheart,” he said, moving his hand, finding your own to play with. “It’s not for me either. But I’m falling. I’m falling so damn fast and it feels...different. I was a wreck at the hospital after your accident. I snuck outside and...that was the second time in as many months that I thought someone I care about wasn’t walking out of that place. I bawled like a baby, Y/N. I thought how dare you just come into my life and make me feel happy and like it’s okay for someone else to take care of me for the first time and then you were almost out of it. Not to mention what you did for Sammy. Sure it was a gut reaction but somewhere in that head of yours you care enough to keep him safe. I guess I’m rambling and I’ll deny I ever said any of that but...you’re important to me. God, I hope you know what that means to me,” he said. You smiled and nodded, giving him a kiss.

“I do,” you said, barely above a whisper, the fire crackling in front of you. “I have something to admit.”

“What?” he breathed out.

“See, I’m falling too. It feels like I forget to breathe sometimes when I think about it. But as long as we’re both falling...maybe we’ll be lucky enough to hit the ground together,” you said.

“If we’re lucky,” he said with a small nod. “I really hope we get lucky. We’re due for some good luck.”

“I think we might get lucky,” you said, staring up at him, big green eyes staring back. “You gotta stop doing that.”

“Doing what, sweetheart?”

“Making me forget to breathe,” you said.

“S’only fair. My stomach’s been doing flips from the second I met you,” he said, eyes darting around your face. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

“Good. I was running out of metaphors,” you said. Dean lay you back against the ground, laying on his side before he cupped your cheek, kissing you softly, making a lazy game out of it.

You arched up into it, rolling to your bad side when pain shot through it. You hissed and rolled back, Dean pressing a finger to your lips.

“Stay,” he said, kissing you again, still slow, still sweet. He lay his arm out so you could rest your head on it, his other hand touching your face, mapping out lines and curves. You let yourself do the same, feel the scruff on his cheeks, the hard set jaw that was relaxed right now, dance over the freckles adorning his skin.

Your hand wandered to the back of his neck and to his hair. His hair was always so soft, little spikes sticking up, little tufts forming that made him even more gorgeous.

Anyone that ever thought he was stupid or not good enough had to have been nuts.

Dean pulled back, his face flush, a few big breaths leaving him and fanning over your face. He smiled goofily and you took the opportunity to nuzzle a finger under his chin, Dean curling his head into it.

“Tickles,” he mumbled, your finger trailing down to his collar, dipping in the hollow of the bone. “Y/N.”

“Sorry,” you said, moving your arm over his waist instead.

“You like me for me,” he said. There wasn’t a question in there so you didn’t say anything, Dean moving a few strands of your hair around. “Can I tell you something, something no one else knows? Even Sammy doesn’t know.”

“Yeah. I won’t tell,” you said. He smiled and looked behind you at the fire, up at the dark sky and the bright stars that were peeking out. Finally he settled his gaze back on your face, a shy look there.

“Last week I applied to this mechanic training program in Kansas City. Just outside the city actually. It’s for...it teaches more stuff, more foreign cars, high end cars, motorcycles. Stuff that Bobby never knew about, none of the guys at the shop do. It’d really help the business grow. I uh...I got in,” he said, biting his bottom lip. “I wanted to tell you on our date on Friday but that obviously didn’t happen.”

“You did? That’s great, Dean! I’m so proud of you,” you said, tucking in closer to give him a hug.

“I...I did good on the test and...I got a scholarship for it. It’s only be for like the fall and in the afternoons but...yeah,” he said with a smile. You sat up, ignoring the pain in your side at the sudden movement.

“I am so happy for you,” you said, giving him a bigger hug and kiss when he leaned up. “Are you excited?”

“Yeah. Nervous. Been awhile since I was in school. All these other guys are gonna be like straight out of high school,” he said, his cheeks pink for a few seconds.

“Well you have a ton of experience and you’re so smart. You’re gonna do great. If you have tests, I can help you study or-“

“I know, honey. You know, I’ve wanted to apply for years now. Always thought I wasn’t good enough. But you never believed that,” he said, shrugging his shoulder. “I thought...maybe you were right and so I put in for it...thank you, sweetheart.”

“You are more than good enough, for whatever you want to do or try,” you said. Dean rested his forehead against your own. “You got that, Winchester?”

“I got it,” he laughed. “I’d hate to get on your bad side after all.”

“You’re never getting on my bad side,” you said, bumping your nose to his. “I think you should tell Sam and everyone, let them know you got in.”

“It’s not like I got into Stanford,” he said, looking down.

“Dean,” you said, lifting your head, Dean’s moving with it, the two of you slowly peeling apart, the flames behind you lighting up his face. “You did something for you. You put yourself first for the first time since I’ve met you. I know that is not something you do very often. I want to celebrate this, celebrate you.”

“These have been the worst few months of my life, but also the best.”

“You gave me back my brother,” you said. “That alone is...then I get you and...do you remember that morning in my kitchen when Jack showed up that day?” Dean nodded, reaching towards your lap and taking your hands in his.

“You said you were lonely in that house. You’ve been lonely for a long time, haven’t you,” he said.

“I don’t feel so lonely anymore. I’m over Sam’s everyday, always with someone it seems. I still like my quiet time, like you, but it’s refreshing now,” you said. “Not so...unwanted.”

“Good. You’re gonna make a baker out of that boy,” said Dean. “Sammy always did like making cookies with mom.”

“What’s your favorite kind of pie, Dean?” you asked.

“Cherry. You are very much wanted too, sweetheart,” he said, carefully sliding you to sit in his lap.

“Well tomorrow I am making you a cherry pie for getting into your school and for being arguably the best neighbor I’ve ever had,” you said, tossing your arms over his shoulders.

“Was that all it took?” he teased.

“Dean?”

“Y/N.”

“I want to kiss you again,” you said.

“Please do,” he said, laying the both of you down again. “You’re always welcome to do that.”

“Y/N,” said Dean, your eyes blinking open as you felt yourself be set down on your bed hours later. “Don’t wake up. I’m just gonna take off your sneakers and get you covered up, okay?”

“We’re home?” you mumbled.

“Yeah. You kept insisting we stay but I got work and you need a proper bed to rest in,” he said, your shoes falling to the floor. You shut your eyes and felt a light blanket come over you. Something moved your hair and Dean pulled it out of the loose pony it’d been in.

“Sleep tight, sweetheart,” he said, kissing your temple.

You were out before he even had a chance to turn off the light.

A/N: Read Part 12 here!

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