#and yes i used two gifs from the same ep but shrugs they were both pretty and worked w the scheme | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aliorsboxostuff · 1 year

Note

ok so imagine ftm reader x joel in the apocalypse. because i just know being trans in an apocalypse is NOT fun. you can make the prompt however specific as you want but i just thought that would be such a cool and interesting idea for a fic. :)

A/N: GOD ANON SUCH A GOOD IDEA yk i'm gonna put a bit of my own experience as a trans man (that went through 7 hrs of a con w binders on… *shivers*). As always, please excuse the mistakes as english is my 2nd language and enjoy Anon!

Join You.

Tags: HBO Joel Miller x ftm!Reader, Reader uses He/Him pronouns, Trans and in an apocalypse? Can't get any worse, oh wait yes it can, Binding struggles, fluff, meet-cute(?), Do you count meeting a dad and his kid cute?, maybe, It’s Joel and Ellie of course they’re cute, meeting, humor, Snarky!Ellie, tired-dad!Joel, soft ending, no angst, maybe a bit, it is EP.3 after all, slight OOC

[Starts from the end of Ep.3 of The Last of Us] Meeting a stone-cold man and his curious stray kid wasn't really on your apocalypse agenda, neither was falling in love with him. But then again, when has life ever gone your way? Hell, even god fucked up from when you were born, mixed up the damn gender. So here you are, helping him and his kid ready themselves to head to Wyoming, while you hitch a ride. Maybe it’ll do you some good, finally finding company with another human being

—

God why was it so hot?

While you keep hauling what remains of your backpack through the path, the sun beats down on you. Despite pulling off your hoodie, now left in only a shirt, the heat threatens to boil you whole. The sides of your binder digs in slightly and it makes moving another endeavor. The two bottles of water inside your bag are quickly diminishing with every break you take, now only half of one bottle remains.

You groan, eyes becoming hazy with every blink, when suddenly, you spot a chain-linked fence meters in front of you. A shot of energy courses through you as hope rises, quickly jogging to the area while you wave your hands, but trying not to make a sound in case any infected comes running by.

You stopped just shy of the chain link, glancing at the high-voltage sign. You've been electrocuted once, you're not about to get electrocuted twice. You opted to look around instead, glancing at the various put-together houses, and the church in the far corner of the neighborhood. Despite the leaves littering the streets, flowers bloomed encircling the town's middle. You turn your head to find a way in, maybe a chance for you to vault over without getting burned, or maybe dig underneath-

"Turn around."

You freeze. The hairs on your nape start to rise, heart rate following suit as a bead of sweat drops. "Turn around, and drop your bag. Slowly."

You gulp, carefully moving one foot and the other until you fully turn, now face to face with a gun trained at your head, behind it, a man with eyes sharp enough to cut through skin is ready to pull the trigger at sight. Your eyes cautiously glance at the girl behind him, the same vicious stare with a sharp knife in her hand.

As instructed, you slip your backpack and hear it hit the ground, before the man tilts his head, indicating for you to kick it away, and so you did.

"Drop your weapons,"

"I don't have a gun," Your voice wavers, hands shaking slightly as it hovers beside you, a surrender you’re hopeful the man will take. He doesn't.

"Drop anything other than a gun, then," He leaves no room for negotiations. You blink, before taking out the pocket knife and knuckle dusters from your pocket, throwing them to his direction. The guy raises his brow at the items and you shrug, still hesitant despite trying to appear nonchalant.

With the gun still aimed at you, he picks both of the weapons up, storing them, before he stands again. "What's in the bag?"

"Some… Canned food, water bottles, a lighter, other stuff,"

"How did you find this place?"

"I just…" Now that, you wondered yourself. You remembered leaving your group when a sketchy religious guy showed up and everyone started preaching to him, going nowhere in particular, just out of the growing conservative group and somewhere safe. Wandering for weeks before stumbling here, thinking you finally found another group willing to accept your scrappy ass. "I don't know, I don't even know this place existed, I was wandering around then came across…" You tilted your head back to the fence.

A pause. The man then speaks in a hushed tone with the girl, before they both nodded, the girl evidently less cautious after the whispers. "Empty your bag."

You did as so, slowly reaching for the pack and unlatching the top, turning it upside down and letting the contents drop. Bottles, food, plasters, your lighter, a torch, other knick-knacks you couldn't resist picking up, all falling to the ground. When a flutter of paper falls, the girl perks slightly, before she retreats when you noticed. "I-I'm alone-"

"How do we know you're alone?"

Your eyes looked around before you shrug. "I… Got separated from my group. A weird guy joined us and separated some people, and he uh… Kicked me out. Im alone, I promise, I don't have anyone following me from my group or from… Anywhere,"

Another pause. He seems to turn the info around his mind, before he looks back at the girl, she only does the same.

"Alright." He nods, eyeing the clutter on the ground. "Walk, slowly, away from the fence."

Taking steps away from the chain until your position and the man change, you stand far from the fence while he and the girl stands just a meter away. He nods to the girl and she nods back. Now, her dark eyes are focused on you, while the man unlocks the gate to the place.

"What's with the book?" She jerks to the opened pages on the ground.

"Just a journal. Keeps the mind sane," She hums, then you hear a click of the fence being opened. The man ushers the girl in, before he looks back at you, standing defenseless outside just meters away, disheveled and wary. He huffs.

"Get in here, quick,"

Your face beams. "Thank you, so much," You breathe before picking up your bag and contents, then jogging inside and the man locks the gate again.

The neighborhood looks as if lived in, despite the run-down houses except one that stands grand and white a couple of streets down. "You two live here?"

"No, someone we know does," The girl answers. The man begins walking to the house, the girl following loosely behind him, before she turns.

She still has a hint of caution in her eyes, yet she asks, "What's your name? I'm Ellie, that's Joel,"

"Pleasure meeting you Ellie, Joel," Ellie grins, Joel doesn't turn. You give her your name, at which she smiles before looking past you.

"Do you write often?"

"Just for fun, nowhere to publish it anyways,"

She nods. "What do you write about?"

"Stuff I see, birds, leafs, interesting flowers I pass by," You begin walking towards the house as well, following them. "I have pressed dried flowers in there,"

"Pressed dried? Like you have dead flowers in your journal?"

"Sure," You grin as she chuckles, turning around when Joel opens the house's gates and motions for Ellie to stop, so you do too.

"I'm checking inside first. You-" His eyes meets yours, you gulp. "Stay here, look out for any infected,"

"In here? This is basically a fortress,"

"Once I'm done, then I'll call you," You only nod, afraid to aggravate Joel even further. You'd hate to appear annoying to a man that offered you safety.

Minutes pass, you idle outside, taking in the scenery. There are flowers in fitted pots, already dry and dying. The fence that surrounds the house Joel and Ellie still looks put together, the paint scraping would indicate age but otherwise looks fine. There's a brown garage door off the side. You wonder if it stored any vehicles.

Suddenly, Joel storms outside, making you jump. His otherwise stoic face has a sheen layer of pain, of apprehension, before you spotted a piece of paper in his hand. His eyes meet yours for a brief second, before he turns and crumples the paper. You stand to the side, nearing the gates, while Joel takes his time gathering himself. The urge to ask, to comfort, almost overwhelms you before he speaks. "Help me check the car,"

A key dangles in his hand, and you follow suit. He opens the garage door, and you move to the back of what looks like a covered car. Sure enough, once you and Joel pull the cover up, a blue pick-up comes into view. "Nice," you smooth your hand on the rear door. Then suddenly, a sharp bang from the front, Joel closes the engine harder than needed. You gulp.

Contemplation appears on Joel's face again. You didn't dare to move. His eyes search the room, until it lands on something out of your view, on top of a refrigerator. His eyes track down, then he stalks to said fridge and opens it. Seems like he finds what he was looking for and Joel closes it back.

“You can't come with us.”

“What?” It sounded small, way too small to your liking, until you realized it was your voice.

“We’re going to Wyoming, either way there’s no space for-”

“Please, Joel,” You find yourself leaning towards him, your knuckles white on the trunk of the car. “I don't- I have nowhere to go,” Joel opens his mouth to interject before you continue; “And I'm not asking to join you, and Ellie. I just…” You inhale sharply.

“Please let me go with you two, to Wyoming. Then just leave me there.” You blink the growing panic back down. “Just a ride. Then I'll be off your backs. I promise,”

The man standing meters away from you, hand still firmly on the edge of the fridge, eyes dark and stone cold, ponders over your words. You can practically feel the consideration, the slight glance from him when he meets your eyes, before he turns to the door, then back to you. “Just a ride,”

“Just a ride. You have my word.”

Then, painstakingly slow, he nods then walks to exit the garage, making you exhale a relief breath. "Check the fuel, I'll go check on Ellie,"

You simply nodded as he exited the garage. You go and check the fuel from the meter inside the car first, then find it empty. For safety reasons, you think. So you check around the garage for any fuel canisters. You found a couple behind some boxes, so you pulled them out to ready them when Joel needs it.

You deem it enough snooping around so you return to the house, just in time to hear Ellie ask, "So what now?"

You knock on the door lightly, to alert the two, and Ellie glances at you. You two share a look at Joel, before he huffs. “We grab what we can,”

He passes you, taking note of your curiosity, before he goes through the house with you and Ellie in tow. He goes through a couple of rooms, before he pulls at a hatch and it gives in, a staircase leading to what you presume was a basement.

Upon entering, the room is lit up with working LEDs. You and Ellie spotted the wall of guns first, you blowing a low whistle. “Ho-ly shit.” Ellie’s eyes were on the many firearms mounted neatly.

“This guy’s a genius,” She grins and looks around. Your hand reaches for a mounted shock gun, almost touching it, before you retreat when you hear Joel messing with the other things in the room. You noted a steady hum of music, something you could recognize but not pinpoint. Ellie turns to walk over to where Joel was looking at the monitors.

“Why was the music on?”

“If he didn't reset the countdown every few weeks,” His eyes went over something. “This playlist would run over the radios,”

“‘80s…” The two share a look of realization, you can visibly see Joel gulp.

“Grab some cans from over there,” Joel points behind him. “Nothin’ dented, or swollen,” He mainly points it out to Ellie as she moves, but his eyes linger on you so you also get moving.

“Dude,”

“No.” You turn around to spot Ellie standing near the wall of firearms.

“There’s a wall of them,” And she’d be right, but Joel only fixed her a stare that made her nod in defeat, almost making you giggle. Joel goes back to the monitors while you and Ellie search through the cans.

You’ve emptied most of the top shelves, leaving the clearly dented ones, while Ellie picked apart the bottom half, looking at each label with fascination. Once you’ve got your pack full, you crouch near her when she looks at one with interest.

“‘Chef Boyardee’,” You smile as she turns to you. “They got great taste,”

“Is this what you all eat?” She asks both you and Joel as she turns to face him. “Like, before the infection thing,”

“Well, most foods weren't in cans, if that's what you’re asking,” You absentmindedly pick at one of the cans' labels, already peeling. “Big shops, grocery stores, would sell raw stuff so you can cook them,”

“Cook anything?” Her eyes gleam, making you huff out a chuckle.

“Sure, as long as there's a recipe, I for one can't cook for shit,” She chuckles, before putting the can into her bag. As you and Ellie make your way upstairs, you pass Joel whose eyes soften as you let Ellie climb up first.

Ellie found a bag and she scurries off to shove toilet paper in it. You made your way into the bathroom to find the medicine cabinet fully stocked. “Fuck yeah,”

You grab all that your arms can fit and run back to where Ellie was emptying the storage room. Setting all the medicine and emergency kit into the bag, you head back to look under the sink of the bathroom to find a couple of tampons and pads. Another victory. As you reach your hand into the cabinet, a roll of body tape falls out. Checking back to hear Ellie's busy with her work, you stuff the tape into your pocket and head out with the packs of pads and tampons.

Ellie looks up from where she’s hunched inside the storage area. “Hell yeah,” She nods as you stuff the packs into the bag.

Joel emerges from the bunker and heads upstairs just as you and Ellie finish filling up the bag. Ellie follows Joel and so do you, still contemplating what the girl is to Joel or who Joel is to Ellie. Though you shrug it off when Joel opens a door into a worn room, decorations vary on the walls but he beelines into, what you presume, is a closet. He opens it and looks around, clicking a light on, before he settles on a box and pulls it out, setting it on the bed.

The box is labeled ‘Women's shirt, SM-MED’ so Ellie looks through it. She pulls out a red shirt that she fits over her front to make sure, before she glances at you. You only nod in approval, giving her a thumbs up, making her grin and set the article aside.

Joel emerges with a box labeled ‘Long Sleeve Shirts’ and goes back in. You stood opposite of Ellie between the bed, hesitant to touch the box, before Ellie took it first and opened it. She notices your hovering hand and falters on the flaps. “Oh, you wanna take this one?”

“Those won't fit him,” Joel barks from inside the closet, almost making you jump. But instead, his tone is like poking fun at you, so you roll your eyes, huffing.

“Haha, real funny man,” Your hand reaches back for the box Ellie was opening, before another box abruptly drops next to your hand, affectionately labeled ‘Mens shirt, SM-MED’.

“This could,” His eyes met yours before he ducks back into the closet.

You stand, almost in shock, elevated from both relief and happiness as it blooms inside you. The box is still closed, sitting just far from you, and the label almost makes your eyes gloss. You swallow a heavy lump, before you notice Ellie's fleeting glance from you to the box, then back to you. “Go ahead dude, those would be way too big for me,” She shrugs.

And so you went through the box and picked out the articles you deemed good enough to fit your form.

After sorting through the box of clothes, the three of you make your way into the garage. You stand near the door in order to not step in Joel's way while Ellie pokes around, but if you were being honest with yourself, you just wanted to admire the dynamic between Ellie and Joel. Joel has found an all-purpose charger, hooking it up to the car battery. After a minute, the charger begins to work as he surveys it. “Needs another hour,”

“They have hot water!” Ellie cheers as she turns on a faucet from the other end of the room. “I’m takin’ a shower,” She declares as she begins to make her way to where you're standing.

“Then you’re showering, cuz’ seriously,” She huffs, making a disgruntled face at Joel, which made you chuckle. Joel only deadpans as she moves past you. “You too!” She hauls back as she absentmindedly points in your direction.

That made both of your eyebrows shoot up, sputtering for an answer. Your eyes briefly meet Joels, a slight smirk tugging on his lips, before you yourself huffed out a laugh. “I should…” You falter, unable to think of an excuse, before jogging to join Ellie in the house.

Ellie finished her shower quickly, clad in the red shirt she picked and the long sleeves she must've taken out of the box. When she exits the room to find you waiting in the hallway, your pile of clothes a bit taller than her, and arches a brow. “A lot of layers,”

“I get cold easily,” You shrug, making her nod and promptly go downstairs.

After making sure the door locks, you start to discard your tattered clothes, pulling out your hoodie to also discard it, sticky with grime and dirt. You carefully set your binder on the sink and finally relish the feeling of steady water beating down your body.

Once you’re dry with a towel hanging on your hips, you take out the body tape and fasten a makeshift binder, not too tight to avoid any mishaps. Your dirty binder has been washed under the faucet, so it's now wrung dry enough to be in a plastic bag and shoved into your pack. You put your hair in a towel wrap while you put on deodorant, then the clothes you picked out, zipping up the pants and fastening a belt around it. Pulling on the top, then a t-shirt over it, before a jacket to top it off. You pull off the towel from your hair, leaving it damp enough for it to dry in the wind.

As you walk to the door, a mirror stands just next to it. You spot your reflection, no longer with streaks of dried blood and dirt, hair array from days without proper cleaning. A man with deep eye bags but an otherwise put-together demeanor stares back. You smile, arranging your drying hair a bit, before exiting the room.

You meet Ellie downstairs, looking around and touching the various items scattered about the still-warm house. You make your way to the dining table, and the unfinished food on the table makes a gnawing feeling in your gut appear. Not the rotting stench, but something significant happened here, if you could judge the wine glasses sat neatly next to each other, now supporting dust instead of its usual amber contents. You swallow down the feeling of what has happened and instead take a seat in the vacant area of the table, pointedly away from the rotting food. As Ellie paces around, you take out your book, flipping through the pages of various notes and entries you’ve written.

You pick out one dried lily you pressed months ago. “See? Dead flowers,” Ellie turns to you, before she spots the flower you’re holding and chuckles.

“There's a lot out front y’know,” She adds. You hum and nod, before returning back to your pages.

Joel enters the house just as you turn a page. You smile, nodding to the stairs behind the dividing wall. “Showers all yours,” You said. He assesses you, taking a second too long which makes you break eye contact, our eyes back to your book, a steady heat growing on your face. Then he glances at Ellie before he nods and heads to the stairs. Ellie gives you a look once, twice, before she smirks and continues her poking.

A couple of minutes passes, before you hear a sequence of steps, a muffled ‘oh shit’ maybe coming from Ellie, then you pick your head up from the deep pages and find Ellie standing in front of Joel, combed back curls, highlighting his steadily graying edges, beard shaved neatly, a fitting plaid t-shirt and dark jeans are what he picked from the box, it seems. “Well, don't you look pretty,”

“I agree,” Ellie joins before you can explode from the embarrassing compliment you sputter out.

“Shut up,” Joel answers, throwing the deodorant you wore earlier into Ellie’s hands. You don't miss the tint of red on Joel's ears, highlighted by the sun coming from the front door.

“Nice,” She begins to put it on, before you gape.

“Wait, you didn't put it on?”

“What, I didn't see it!” She retorts, putting the cap back on.

“Ellie, ew,” The girl throws the deodorant at you, which you caught easily, both of you giggling.

“Come on you two,” Joel huffs from the door. Ellie quickly puts her pack on as you put your book inside yours, securing it on your back.

You help Joel with the gear on the pick-ups tub, making sure it’s secured and putting the water-proof tarp over it. Joel and Ellie get in the car as you open the garage door, then slide in yourself into the back seat. Ellie’s eyes practically shine as she prods at the car's dashboard, pulling down the vanity mirror, then messing with the rearview before she pushes it, promptly displaying you in the backseat and Joel next to her.

“It’s your first time in a car?” He stares at the curious girl.

“It’s like a spaceship,” She answers, still in a trance as she prods at the AC flap.

“No, it's like a piece of shit Chevy S10,” Joel’s answer makes you chuckle from the back seat, rearranging your pack. “But it’ll get us there, I think.”

“Seatbelt,” Ellie turns to Joel, a slight confusion in her eyes, before Joel sighs and pulls the belt over her then hands the rest to Ellie. “Seatbelt.”

She grins, then clicks the seatbelt in place. “So cool,”

You grin from where you’re sat, Joel spotting you from the rearview mirror, your eyes meet briefly which makes you duck your head, settle into the seat and promptly look out the window. Joel starts the car and it hums to life, you can feel the engine purring from the recharged battery and fuel.

Ellie fumbles and opens the compartment under her, pulling out a cassette tape. Joel notices the girl grinning from what she found. “Would ya leave it,”

“Put it back. Ellie,” Joel's exasperated tone only spurs Ellie more as she slides it into the radio, already pressing play. Your grin matches Ellie's as a melody begins to fill the car, eyes on the various houses you pass. Ellie clearly doesn't recognize the song, her hand reaching for the stop or skip button, before Joel perks up.

“No, no, leave it. This is good,” He says, turning the car to where the gate is meters away. “This is Linda Ronstadt, y’know who Linda Ronstadt is?”

“You know I don't know who Linda Ronstadt is,” Her deadpan expression makes you chuckle, leaning into the comfy seat as you settle into the song. Joel, as if looking for support, spots you from the rearview and arches a brow. You only shrug with a smile on your lips, nodding.

“Oh man,” Joel glances at the radio, the gate already in front of the car.

“Eh, it's better than nothing,” Ellie smiles, glancing out to the glowing fields, the evening sun already basking its shine on the earth. You sigh, entranced by the singer's voice, clearly to Joel's liking. He pushes the code for the gate and it opens. He puts the remote back, and advances forward, into the road in front.

—

It's been months since your first meeting with Joel and Ellie.

Now, settled into Jacksons easy living commune, you live just next door to Joels and Ellies.

You remembered when they both left some weeks ago, something about looking for a lab, but you didn't catch why. You remembered the way Ellie clung to you as they were getting ready to leave. She's grown fond of you, sharing the same humor and references, even if you’re still years older than her. So when her hands shook as it digs into your jacket, you pull her closer as well, letting her bury her head into the crook of your neck. Then you pressed a kiss on her forehead, mumbled ‘Stay safe,’ before she let go then headed to her horse. Then there was Joel.

Joel, who you were once scared of. Who you helped with gathering wood for the fire. Who you shared breakfast with the morning after leaving those houses. Who you caught smirking at Ellie's joke. Who you ran with when Wyoming went to shit. Who let you stay with him and Ellie without you asking, moving through that insane city until you found the brothers. Who you watched bury them when Sam turned. Who was the gracious ticket that let you into Jacksons.

Whom you’ve grown feelings for.

When he was about to leave, you were hesitant to touch him. Anything beyond a helping hand on his arm or shoulder was a breach, so you’ve always kept your hand to yourself. That's what you thought until Joel pulls you into him, almost pushing all of the oxygen out of you. You returned the embrace with equal strength, blinking away the worry gathering in your eyes. It lasted long enough before he pulled back and joined Ellie on the horse. The massive gates opened just slightly, before the two exits, unknown to you how long they’ll leave. Or if they’ll even come back.

But they did, with the two closer than ever.

Now, the three of you simply live in Jacksons. A shout away from each other. Sometimes Ellie would come by, unannounced of course, and hang on your couch while you do chores. Sometimes she’ll look around your collection of books that you salvaged from each import of stuff every month. She’ll find something that interests her and borrow it, bringing it back to her house. On the rare chance that you cook, she’ll stay to eat, asking if you made the food yourself or if it came from a recipe. You'd bat at her arm, saying ‘Of course it’s from a recipe Ellie, y’know I’ll burn the house down.’ And she'll laugh.

Sometimes she brings Joel over. He stays for coffee while Ellie is busy with something. Sometimes you two talk, about something or nothing. About the on-goings of Jacksons. About your shift at the community school and theater. About his shifts on patrols and fixing up old buildings for repurposes. Sometimes just to sit and drink, basking in the pure joy of watching Ellie scuttle around, finding things of interest, and asking you questions about your latest project. Those times are when he’ll shuffle closer, hesitant near your lax stance as you laugh at what Ellie said. He’ll put his cup down and carefully, oh so slowly, brush his hands against yours, and you’ll blink, red steadily growing up your neck. You smile then, relaxing your hand, letting Joel set the pace. Then finally, in the privacy of your house, between Joel and you, he laces his fingers with yours, the warmth of his hands burns yours. But you endure, even welcoming his slightly shaking hold, and you’ll squeeze tight. You turn your head to meet Joel's dark browns, the creases on the side of his eyes dent slightly as he smiles, and you smile too, dropping your head to his broad shoulder.

Then Ellie would look at your entwined hands and scoff. “That's so gay,”

Joel would immediately cross his arms while he retorts that she is also gay, and Ellie would quip back another snarky response. You’d laugh, holding your middle and trying not to stumble from where you stand.

Requests are open

#joel miller x male reader #joel miller x ftm reader #the last of us hbo #joel miller hbo #joel miller x reader #hbo joel miller #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #lio writes #joel miller x trans!reader

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ladyvesuvia · 3 years

Text

That Old Feeling

PAIRING: Bucky Barnes x 40s!Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Even decades later, where his eyes go, your face follows. (That Old Feeling by Doris Day)

WORDS: 5.3k

REMINDER(S): cursing. death. angst. fluff. piggyback rides. mentions of reader’s hair and pigtails. reader is born 1919. usage of she/her pronouns. sometimes switches to third person. intentional grammatical errors in letters. graves.

FIC PLAYLIST (yes this has a playlist cos each part has a song because i am very extra deal with it)

A/N: this is my first time writing for the mcu szmdS i’m only at the second ep of tfatws rn sorry if this doesn’t line up with it well ALSO SPECIAL THANKS AND LOVE TO @pogueslandia FOR GIVING ME IDEAS FOR THE ENDING mwa

I. PRELUDE: Dinosaurs in Love - Brooklyn 1928

It’s almost time for the sun to set yet the streets remained abuzz with people, but the two young children both of which were a decade old paid no mind at all, preoccupied with their typical routine: eating chocolate, knowing they’d regret it later on when their throats will begin to hurt.

Well, maybe it might be too early to call it a routine given that both had just met each other two days earlier but you’d gotten used to it already that the thought of doing it for more days to follow wasn’t so bad.

You rip open your third Butterfinger of the hour, continuing your conversation with your new friend. “I want to be famous someday, James. What about you?”

“Bucky’s alright.”

You stopped chewing on your Butterfinger. “What’s a bucky?”

“Oh, it’s my name,” he says with a smile, taking another Butterfinger from your tiny bag. You resist the urge to berate him, scared to lose a friend so quickly. “You can call me ‘Bucky.’”

“It is a cute one, I guess. But what does that have to do with anything?”

“What does what you said have to do with anything?”

You took a while to process it all. “What?”

“What?” he said, mocking you as he continued on eating.

Scoffing, you took note of his banter. “You know, my Aunt Betty said that when a boy pulls a girl’s pigtails it means that he likes her.”

“Your Aunt Betty is stupid,” Bucky snorted.

It was hard not to laugh, so you just took the opportunity to close your bag, hiding it behind your back. “She bought me these Butterfingers. You should stop eating ‘em, then. On top of that, you should quit pulling my pigtails.”

“I’m not pulling your pigtails,” he said, shrugging. Bucky took one bite of the last of his chocolate.

You turned away. “Maybe you should.”

“But I don’t like you.”

“Good,” you said, arms crossed. “Because I don’t like you, either.”

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II. Time Moves Slow - 2023

Even outdoors with no four walls suffocating him, James Buchanan Barnes could not help but feel his throat constricting and the world itself collapsing upon him at the sight of that face.

He hated the world for depriving him of the days he could’ve spent being woken up with a kiss on his forehead.

The world was and still remains to be cruel up to this day.

He could see you.

One billboard picture equated to lifetimes of you remaining somewhere and everywhere in his mind. It didn’t help that the best he could do to dismiss it all was to walk ahead as straight as he could.

The world knew your face so well, having recognized you as a revolutionary actress of your time — [Y/N] [Y/L/N], a timeless icon.

You had achieved your dream, compared to James who hadn’t. Both dreams could not co-exist in the same time and place, not when his dream is to accompany you along the way.

“Watch it!” hissed a man he’d just bumped into. Bucky muttered a hushed apology.

He halts, trying to catch his breath.

It does him no good to find that he had stopped in front of a jewelry store, the glass window the only thing separating him from the luxurious rings that rested upon its own cushion.

He had bought a ring twice: Once when he played pretend with you when you were younger and once when he thought to bring the fake stories you’d acted out together into reality only to have that very moment snatched before it could even happen.

“Where are you now, [Y/N]?” he says to himself, and yet he could not bring himself to look you up on the net properly.

It had been too much lately: the next channel of the television, the advertisement on a cheap game he’d just installed which he uninstalled right after. . .

He hated that it was as if the world was trying to convince him you were some sort of punishment to him for dying.

As if he were to blame for something of which he had no control over.

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III. First Day of My Life - 1928

June 12, 1928

Dear Bucky,

Hello this is my first time writing a letter i like you i kind of like you. do you want cookies i am making cookies. write back and slip it under my door :)

P.S. specify if yes or no

Yours truelly,

[Y/N]

——

Rereading it over and over, you groaned. It’s way more pathetic than you had imagined it to be.

Common sense would tell you to throw it away but . . .

Deciding against yourself, you stashed it into an envelope and hid it in between your notebook.

You grabbed another piece of paper from your pack and began writing again, this time leaving out the liking him part.

——

June 12, 1928

Bucky,

Hi. do you want cookies pls write back with yes or no then slip it under my door so i can prepare much thanks.

Sincerely,

[Y/N]

——

A knock on your door.

You rushed to open it while carrying a bowl of undone dough.

Bucky walked in, carrying his own empty plate. “You got cookies?”

“I told you to slip a note!”

“Why?” whined Bucky. “What’s the point?”

You put the bowl down to set his plate on the counter. “It’s practice for when we’re actually apart.”

He couldn’t imagine such a time. “Like when?”

“Like when we’re grownups! We’re not always going to be living next door, you know.”

“Why not?”

“Because I am going to be a famous actress and it will be hard for you to reach me. This is your fan-mail practice.” You grabbed the bowl again, jogging to the tray with parchment paper you had prepared moments ago. “Now stop asking questions and help me out over here.”

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IV. It’s Up To You - 1942

“Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Howard Stark!”

Shit, that’s my cue, you thought to yourself. With a gulp, you flourished your hands, posing as rehearsed with one hand on your hand and one hand gesturing to Howard Stark. With a hesitant and not so subtle glance, you skimmed the tons of crowds before you, searching for that one familiar face.

You told yourself to focus, realizing that Stark and your leader had kissed already, giving you the cue to follow and walk until you reached your spot at the back.

Soon you’d be taking one of the wheels off.

Alright, that’s not so hard, you note.

Just before your next task, you caught sight of Bucky in his uniform. He made it. He’s there.

He tips his hat off to you with a cheeky grin. You subtly roll your eyes but immediately smile afterwards.

This, you thought, is what friends do.

It was just a crush, you had told yourself when you finally considered yourself all grown up, insisting that those feelings were long gone and only effects of having only him over most of the time growing up.

Sure, there were several pathetic confessions on your part while growing up with Bucky and several letters you decided not to send whenever you were apart but. . .

It’s all silly. Just stupid. Childish, that’s the word.

But there’s no denying that his mere ability to be present in little moments of your life brings this indescribable joy within yourself, like something you yearn for in—

“[Y/N]!” one of the girls hissed through a gritted smile, reminding you to grab the wheel.

You mouthed an apology before complying, putting on a picture-perfect smile before the audience. You kept your eyes trained on a spot just above his visor, but there were a couple of times when you’d slip up and just stare at him and he’d be looking back.

Took you a while to notice that he wasn’t alone.

Oh.

He brought a date.

That’s fine.

In a spot backstage, you caught your coach gesturing for you to straighten your posture. You do. Or at least, you try to.

The red car started to levitate and exclamations of awe from the amused audience helped you keep your feet on the ground. Your gaze kept going back to the girl right beside him, leaning a bit too close to his chest as he watched the car.

One more second of thinking about all the sweet things he told her on their way to the Stark Expo and you’d be higher up in the air than the demo car itself.

You were far too frozen that it caught you off guard when one of the front wheels sparked in error, causing the car to crash back down. You jumped and as you did so, you saw the girl he was with laugh and move a bit back closer to him.

“I did say a few years, didn’t I?” Howard Stark pointed out with a grin. Applauses and laughter scattered among the crowd, and you could tell they were still awed by what they’d just watched — a flying car!

For the rest of the presentation, the smile you have been practicing until this very moment takes its toll on your face muscles.

You tried not to look his way the entire time.

——

You’re left alone in the dressing room later on, finally getting to take off the tall black heels and black blazer.

The tables are cluttered with opened makeup and all of the lights of nearby makeup tables are turned off aside from yours.

You watched your reflection hesitantly, picturing what it would’ve been like to be in her place.

Nope.

No way in hell you’re doing that.

To distract yourself for a while, you began to braid a tiny section of your hair at the side.

After realizing you’d been wasting time, you turned off the lights on your makeup table before carrying your black heels with you as you walked in the sandals you’d outgrown a while back.

On your way out, you take a seat on one of the stairs just beside the now empty stage, pulling out a Band-Aid from your bag to put one at the back of each heel.

“How’s the aspiring glitterati holding up?” said an approaching familiar voice. You looked up from your seat to find Bucky.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Sergeant Barnes. I’m fine, thank you.”

“You need help with that?”

“No, no, I got it,” you said with a dismissive hand. You finally finished putting the last Band-Aid and Bucky sat down right next to you.

“Familiar?” he asks, referring to the uncanny resemblance of the present to the past; how the two of you had sat in front of your apartment stairs, waiting for the day to turn into night. It’s a lovely parallel, truly.

And the urge to excessively comment on how much you missed those times was hard to resist, yet you did.

He rested his elbows on his knees, looking at nothing in particular just like he always did when you were kids.

“D’you want to switch hats, Sarge?” you say with your arm stretched out, the top hat you’d worn moments ago at the other end. “It must be the booze I had a year ago talking, but I think you’d look quite dashing in a top hat.”

He took your hat from your hands right before taking off his own visor. He dusts it on his uniform. “How can you be certain a rabbit won’t come out of it?”

“The same reason why I’m certain a war won’t come out of yours,” you reasoned, snatching his hat from his hand. “You know, common sense. Most of us have it.”

Bucky laughs, and that smile’s enough to forget you had limbs in the first place.

The moment lingers, and it’s easy to pretend you hadn’t just almost messed up the whole Stark Expo upon seeing him with some other girl.

“So, where’s . . . you know,” you said, immediately regretting it as soon as you said it. “Your date, I mean. Where is she? She was pretty.”

Bucky laughed, slapping you in the back repeatedly in the process just like he does with Steve. Just like he does with his buddies.

“Is it just me or is Miss Hollywood jealous?”

“How very arrogant of you!” you said with mock amusement, shaking him off your back with a laugh. “I’m just saying that she deserves better than a guy whose name is ‘Bucky.’ I mean, come on, that has to be the stupidest name ever to be invented.”

Bucky rubbed his chin, feigning to be in thought. “If I recall correctly, you once said it was cute.”

“You recall incorrectly,” you spat back, giggling.

“I beg to differ.”

“Well, things change.”

A pause.

Bucky shifts in his seat. You remain frozen, and it’s a mystery whether it’s because of your aching feet or his very presence.

It’s now as if the world refuses to move.

You clear your throat. “Don’t you have anywhere you have to be?”

“Oh, right,” he starts. He clears his throat. “There’s that dancing thing.”

“Oh. Okay.”

He opens his mouth to speak but closes it again. There’s hesitation in there.

Definitely must be the exhaustion of consistent rehearsals and the lack of sleep but you could’ve sworn his gaze lingered on your face.

No, you weren’t imagining it. He really is looking at you back.

This close. So near.

Right before you almost did the worst thing you could’ve ever done (look down at his lips), he pulled the minimal braid you’d given for yourself down hard.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“That’s me asking you to come with me to go dancing.”

“What? Why?”

He looked anywhere but you. “Your Aunt Betty.”

Snorting, you kept your eyes on him. “Right, what does my Aunt Betty have to do with any of this?”

He went rigid. “You know what? Forget about it. How about I walk you home instead?”

You looked at him with narrowed eyes, suspicious. “What do you want?”

“What do you mean, ‘What do I want’?”

You set the black heels you’d been holding on the stairs to cross your arms. “Why are you being nice all of a sudden? Do I have to loan you or—”

He stood up in disagreement. Bucky shook his head. “What? No! Of course not! I just . . . you know.”

To your surprise, he turned around and squatted, patting his back, gesturing for you to get on.

“What, you don’t want a ride?” he grins. “I’m actually pretty comfy, I think.”

You laughed, remembering the time he’d carried you that way several times when you were both younger: he had said him being older meant he was practically the hero, which you said made no sense at all.

You didn’t mind though, because the dreams that followed for the next few weeks after that were immaculate.

“James, we’re not kids anymore.”

“I can see that. Get on, doll.” He patted his back again.

This time, you obliged, albeit hesitantly. He hauled you up, and as soon as he stood up, he let the back of your knees rest on his hands. You tried hard not to flinch.

“Wouldn’t your girl, uh, get jealous, though? Or something like that?”

“You mean you?”

“What?” you blurt out in response.

He started walking now and for once, you’re just a bit glad he couldn’t see you.

“Okay, put me down.”

“No way.”

“I’m gonna make you.” Grinning, you started flailing your arms about, making as much movement as you can until he was forced to set you down.

Bucky raised a brow, looking at you with feigned annoyance just like he always does. “Now what?”

“What’s with you lately? Are you drunk or something?”

He shakes his head, laughing. “Nothing! However, ‘or something’ would be a reasonable category.”

“Be honest,” you say, pointing a finger at him.

“Always am.”

“Do you,” you started, trying hard not to laugh, “James Buchanan Barnes, have a thing for my Aunt Betty?”

“What?” snorted Bucky. He adjusted your top hat on his head. You almost forgot that you were wearing his hat.

“You know, when you mentioned her out of the blue, I was worried you were going to ask me if you could take her dancing. I must admit, you two would make quite a grotesque and questionable pair.”

“That was not out of the blue,” he says with a grin.

“Oh, really? How come? Explain yourself.”

“I only wanted to say that your Aunt Betty might not be as stupid as I thought she was,” he admitted. Bucky rubbed his hands together. He didn’t dare look at you, but you couldn’t blame him for refusing to do so. In fact, you were doing just the same thing. He finally talked again. “Just — alright, just get on my back.”

You hesitantly obliged, not saying a word aside from the awkward ‘Okay’ you’d just managed to say out loud.

“Hey, [Y/N]?”

“Hm?”

“I like your Aunt Betty’s niece,” said Bucky. You were glad he couldn’t see you. “Specifically the one who wants to become famous. I’d like to ask her to dance with me, too.”

“She’d like that.”

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V. The Brooklyn Bridge - November 1944

The two of you are leaning on the railings of the street, the view of the Brooklyn Bridge standing tall not so far away. He handed you the paper bag he had been holding since he picked you up, telling you to get some of the Butterfingers he bought.

You turned away from him a bit, spotting the trash bin from afar. You put your attention back on the paper bag, putting your hand in but . . . you felt something else.

When you pulled it out, you were more than just surprised to find a velvet box.

Turning around, the sight of Bucky down on one knee greeted you.

“Yeah, I should’ve thought this through,” he laughed. “I mean, I did think it through, it’s been what’s on my mind for a long time and — right, sorry, I’m talking too much — I’m aware I’m not holding the ring, that’s on me.”

Stunned, you opened the box to find the ring you had told him you wanted from years back.

You opened your mouth to speak, about to thank him. “Bucky, I—”

“Do?”

“You idiot, of course!”

And so you pulled his hand, forcing him to stand up for you to pull him into the warmest hug he’d never forget. It’s the only thing that matters now. No honking of cars or ships would have the right to interrupt, no pigeon, nothing.

“I didn’t even get to ask the question,” he pouted after pulling away.

“Do you want to?”

“Will your answer still be the same?”

You chuckle. “Find out.”

“That’s scary.”

“Then yes, I assure you it’s the same.”

“Then will you marry me?”

“You idiot, of course.” You press a kiss on his cheek, the weight of all your fears melting away into the noise of the cars passing by in the distance.

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VI. Soldier Boy - December 1944

Under the dark night sky, Bucky had prepared a blanket on top of the grass for the two of you to lie down on. He’s holding your hand, playing with your fingers and you’re looking up at the stars, waiting for one to shoot past.

“I’ll marry you when I get back,” he says, kissing your hand. “Then I’ll make you cookies afterward.”

“Can you?” you tease.

“[Y/N], I’m willing to do anything for you. If baking cookies is what it takes to make you happy, then baking cookies it is.”

“Maybe this time, they won’t get burnt.”

“It won’t. Because we’ll have James junior guarding it.”

You snort. “Oh, there’s a James junior now?”

“Of course there is! Who’d be guarding the cookies, then?”

“Well, what if it’s a girl?”

Bucky scoffed. “Pfft, who cares? We’ll do both!”

“Wow, you are so in love with me,” you joke, squeezing his hand.

“Glad you noticed, doll.”

“I’ll miss you, you know.”

“I know,” he nods.

Bucky sat up a bit, enough for him to turn your way and rest his head on the palm of his hand.

“It’ll be quick, I promise. I’ll be back before you know it. You’ll get to wear your pretty dream dress and we’ll even have your Aunt Betty in the front row and give her a specialized thank you card. She’d be so confused.”

“I like that,” you reply with a grin. “Yeah, maybe even have her as my maid-of-honor.”

He kisses your hand. “You better not stop loving me while I’m away, alright?”

“Bold of you to assume that’s even possible.”

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VII. INTERLUDE: Last Night on Earth - January 1945

It’s true that your life flashing before your eyes in death is a predictable cliche, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s true.

Take this man falling to his death, for example.

See, when you fall, there’s no time to think for yourself, so your head does it for you. Your fragile, little mind filled with stories one always assumes they’d tell in years to come.

He doesn’t see the wintry landscape unfurling before his eyes, no.

What he does see, however, is a burnt cookie on his plate and he could hear a mumbled apology somewhere.

He sees a striped vest. Black heels on a tiny staircase.

His hat on someone else’s head; that someone else’s hat on his.

The Brooklyn Bridge.

The wars he’d fought so hard to survive in to come back home and see that someone instead of writing letters that constantly fail to represent himself.

He’s still falling.

The best he could do is to wish she knew.

Knew that his love is more than just the ring he’d bought her, more than the Butterfingers they’d once shared; more than the hat they’d exchanged; more than the burnt cookies he accepted nonetheless; more than the fake telephone they made together with tin cans they got from canned goods they’d collected and thread from her mother’s sewing kit; more than everything.

The last thing he saw was not the snow on the rocky ridges of the mountain. Instead, he saw that face. Yours.

And it all went dark.

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VIII. Lonesome Town - 1945

It has been a total of twenty-three days since Steve broke the news to you. Twenty-three days of madness.

You had opened your box of unsent letters, mixes of both rejected drafts and complete ones.

You had lost him once already.

If I had sent all of these, would we have had more time to spare?

——

November 13, 1937

Dear Bucky,

This is just a brief note to apologize for my lack of responsiveness for the past month. I hardly know what to say! It sure does cost a sweat to bump guns, doesn’t it?

See, it has been quite a busy few days. Now, don’t blow your wig just yet but I have tried auditioning for a play. I would be lying if I said it was even remotely close to bearable; ten more busted auditions and I am more than certain you’d call me a crumb.

In response to you writing, ‘Don’t be a stranger,’ worry not because I’ll try very hard not to.

You must be missing my voice enough to write to me twice in a week. Might I suggest the telephone? Kidding, Buck.

I hope this letter finds you before the month ends. Hoping to run into you sometime.

Your friend,

[Y/N]

——

You hadn’t responded at all to those two letters he’d sent back then.

And drifted apart you did.

Around the first time in a long time you met, you had blamed it on your hectic schedule.

The next time you met again, you had blamed it on the post.

But now you only have yourself to blame. At least, that’s what’s been running in your head for some time now. Your friends tell you otherwise but it’s just . . . difficult to not hold it against yourself, not when you had made up excuses for your cowardice.

It’s the multitudes of good possibilities that could’ve turned out that makes the loss even greater.

The ring on your finger is now but a mere false promise to paradise. There will be no furniture to arrange. At least, nobody to arrange it with. There will be no walls to paint. There will be no such thing as growing old together.

But you wouldn’t deprive yourself of hope. Your friends would call it denial but the tiniest possibility of him still being out there . . . you did not mind.

There is a fine line between hope and denial, you just happened to be in between.

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IX. Museum of Flight - 2023

The sheer curiosity finally allowed him to want to find out about what has become of you. It’s been, what, seventy-eight years since he last saw you?

Must be the shows he’d been playing in the background but a part of him he considers the pathetic part is still hoping.

Maybe, just maybe, you were more than just a grave or scattered ashes.

Bucky had found a museum dedicated to you in the process of his hesitant research, a discovery he found nerve-wracking.

The [Y/N] [Y/L/N] Museum.

He knew you’d have laughed at the irony of it, maybe even teased him how your nine year old self would have lost her shit.

Which brings us to this moment, with Bucky standing before another exhibit. Just like he did with Steve’s.

How many more exhibits of people who are gone does he have to attend?

He barely notices there’s other people in the room. Once again, he mumbles an apology before proceeding to one particular figure in the room.

There you stood, holding a withering bridal bouquet.

You’re wearing a wedding dress with a sweetheart neckline and cap sleeves. The dress is soiled with mud at the bottom but he found you as beautiful as the day he lost you.

“[Y/N]?” he manages to say out loud, waiting for you to speak.

You didn’t blink, much less look back at him.

He’s convinced he’s dreaming until he looks down to find a plaque indicating a quote.

“With the misery of grief, I am glad I had the luxury of being a bride after being deprived of being one,” the plaque reads, and under it, in much smaller text, was your name and 1950 right beside it.

Another plaque right beside it states something else — Bride in Ruins.

He returns his gaze back to you.

A wax figure. All of you reduced to that of sculpted wax.

It’s hard not to hate those who’ve created this imposter, but he couldn’t help but be grateful to see you.

His throat constricts, his eyes redden.

Apparently, the role you played became your biggest break, and this outfit and pose in particular had been a classic since then.

Posters of movies you’ve starred in lined the walls along with . . . what?

Bucky stepped out of his daze to approach the numbers of yellowed papers attached to the wall inside the glasses.

He stood before it, starting with the one right in front of him.

——

March 10, 1940

Dear Bucky,

One half of the folks would regard this letter cowardly and the other romantic, but I’ll let you decide.

Firstly, Happy Birthday, Buck. It’s unfortunate that we are apart. I haven’t got a clue on what I want to say and I’m trying to save my new fountain pen’s ink so here goes.

Night by night, I am conflicted by the fear I could never seem to shake that whatever might come after I reveal myself to you you would leave and frankly, I have no intentions of losing a friend.

The thing is, James, adoration and other words would never be able to express how I feel. how much I lo

——

The rest is illegible what with the several crossed out sentences.

Beside it, several papers are attached, and his eyes skimmed over each and every one.

There’s no book or tutorial written for how one should react on the instance that you find unsent letters of your fiancée from the past when she thought you were long gone.

——

June 15, 1928

Buck,

Come over bring tuna the one in can

Sinserely,

[Y/N]

——

He could remember that day. You hadn’t sent any letter at all. You did, however, come over with a brand new looking sewing kit and one empty can of tuna. You had pulled one of the chairs in his dining room to the kitchen counter to help yourself reach another can of tuna from the upper cabinets.

The large screen at the other part of his room drew his attention, and so Bucky made his way towards it.

A plaque under it read, “Interview 1951.”

Your face once more. “. . .Oh, I’ve had my fair share of romance six years prior and the years before that.”

“Is it true that you were engaged?” asked the host.

You stiffened in the screen, yet kept your smile on nonetheless. “Why, I see no reason to deny an epic romance I once had — Yes, I was. On the Brooklyn Bridge, might I add.”

Bucky turned away.

Clothes you wore once surrounded him along with pictures of you from movies you starred in.

You made it.

And he knew it would only be fair if he did, too.

No matter the circumstances.

Bucky spent a good half hour roaming around, studying the posters. He would have attended each and every single play in the start and watched every movie of yours on the first day of it at the theatres. Though it pains him a great deal to miss out on every milestone you’ve achieved, he’s proud.

If it makes it any better, he’d have bragged about you to his friends and colleagues.

My wife is a star.

All those pretend stories you’ve acted out together was and still remains up to this day worth it, to say the very least.

1919-2000, the writings read.

He had kept a picture of you in his chest pocket and one stuck right on the walls near his bunk bed and in his barrack’s closets and here he now stands in an exhibit dedicated to remembering you.

Bucky pays one last glance at the wax figure that represented you before leaving with a fair closure before leaving the exhibit.

A beautiful bride, indeed.

Maybe one day, he’d be able to bring himself to watch all those movies you’ve made but right now. . .

He could only wish for everything to stop haunting him first, you included.

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X. POSTLUDE: Old Times - 2023

He went a long way to see you, just like he’s always done countless times before.

Here he stands now, with no wax figure or a face. Instead, a tall stone cross marked where you lay. Aside from the rough foundation, flowers surrounded the remaining grass.

Untucking his hands from his pockets, he pulls out a paper bag.

This time, it wasn’t a ring.

Bucky pulled out one piece of cookie he’d made and pulled another one for himself. He sets the other one just tucked in the abundance of the flowers and takes a bite from the piece he saved for himself.

Weirdly enough, he found that an engraved marking of your name gave him a lot more solace than a wax figure.

He crouches down to re-adjust how he’d placed the cookie. “An unburnt cookie as promised for you, doll.”

As soon as he got on a bus, Bucky finally crossed out your name on his list, the weight in his chest being crossed out along with it.

A/N: yes i put a how to train your dragon reference and what about it???

click here to be added to my MCU taglist.

MARVEL TAGLIST:

#ves.writes #ves.writes bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x 40s!fem!reader #bucky barnes x reader angst #bucky barnes x fem!reader angst #james buchanan barnes #the winter soldier #bucky barnes #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfic #mcu x reader #bucky barnes angst #40s!bucky #tfatws!bucky #bucky barnes fluff

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becomewings · 3 years

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BTS Universe Timeline

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TIMELINE GUIDE

Content warning: contains references to death, suicide, suicidal ideation, child abuse, domestic violence, blood, homicide, depression, trauma, PTSD

This guide contains major spoilers from all BU media

Revisions and additions will be made as necessary, so please visit the original post for the most up-to-date version (update log is included at bottom of post)

All names are provided as fully as known

Bracketed dates are inferred or calculated from references in the text

While the timeline is presented here as objectively as possible, I acknowledge that there is a level of subjectivity in choosing which information is significant enough for inclusion and in certain connections drawn between entries

Please inform me of any suspected errors; I will investigate and correct them

Do not repost, copy, or quote without permission

School Years: Together & Apart

- March Year 19 through 10 April Year 22 -

2 March Year 19 Notes 1 (SJ)

Ten days after returning from the U.S., SeokJin and his father visit the principal’s office at his new school. SeokJin learns that he will start one grade lower due to the different education systems. SeokJin’s father grips his shoulder while the principal explains that school is a “dangerous place” that needs to be “tightly controlled.” He asks: “You know you have to keep me informed, right? You’ll be a good student, right?” SeokJin squeezes out a “yes” and his father lets go. Both ChangJun and the principal laugh. SeokJin looks down at their shining shoes, wondering from where the light is coming.

Note: SeokJin’s 25 June Year 19 entry in Notes 1 specifies that his father attended the same high school. JiMin’s 23 July Year 22 entry in Notes 2 reveals that, according to a comment he finds on an online news article, ChangJun and the principal were in school at the same time and fought with each other “as if it would only end when one of them dropped dead,” but they appeared to get along later due to politics.

3 March Year 19 BTS Universe Story: The Boy on the Threshold, ep.1

On the first day of school at Songju Jeil High School, the Dean of Students berates the six latecomers lined up outside: SeokJin, NamJoon, HoSeok, JiMin, TaeHyung, and JungKook. YoonGi arrives even later. The Dean assigns them one month of community service as punishment. When he notices SeokJin, he clears his throat and says he is letting them off because it’s the first day: they must all assemble after classes to clean the annex, a classroom turned into a storage room. This room becomes their meeting place and hideout even after their punishment is finished.

Note: Their punishment for being late is referenced in JiMin’s 12 March Year 19 entry in Notes 1, when he escapes to the old classroom again and finds the others already there. He observes that it feels as though they’ve been “hanging out together forever.” The punishment scene is also similar to a moment in the BTS Begins Middle Scene VCR. Although it includes a few extra students and cannot be confirmed as BU content, it does mirror the canonical detail of YoonGi arriving last.

28 May Year 19 Notes: Answer

In the classroom hideout, JungKook asks everyone what their dreams are because he has to write a paper about future hopes. SeokJin wants to become a good person, and YoonGi says it’s okay to have no dream. TaeHyung poses on a chair and says he’s going to be a superhero. HoSeok scolds him and adds that he wants to find his mom and live happily. JiMin asks him if he is unhappy now, and HoSeok pulls an exaggeratedly worried expression. “Is that how it works?” JiMin is flustered when HoSeok asks what his dream is and remembers that when he was in preschool he wanted to be president, but didn’t know what he wanted after that. Everyone looks at NamJoon, who shrugs and confesses that while he wants to say something nice, he doesn’t have a dream either and just wishes that his part-time job pays more. JungKook looks down at his assignment, divided into sections for “student” and “parent,” and wonders what he hopes to become. He can’t think of anything to write.

12 June Year 19 — The Sea Notes 1

YoonGi’s entry:

All seven boys cut school and decide to go to the sea. They have little money between them, so they must walk to the train station. As they leave, YoonGi almost bumps into JiMin and realizes that he is standing frozen with a trembling face. JiMin stares at a sign that reads “2.1km to Grass Flower Arboretum.” YoonGi flatly tells him that it’s too hot to go to the arboretum. He has an “instinctive feeling” that they should avoid it. He observes that JiMin walks away like a little kid, head bent and shoulders hunched.

JungKook’s entry:

The boys arrive at the beach. They hang around under a torn parasol until HoSeok holds up a discovery on his phone: a large rock that is supposed to grant your dream if you stand atop it and shout your dream out to the sea. TaeHyung encourages them to go. While they grumble in the heat on the long trek, JungKook reflects on how he had recently asked the others what their dreams were. (See 28 May Year 19.) None of them really have a dream to pursue.

YoonGi tells JungKook to stop biting his nails or else they’ll become like his. Then he asks JungKook what his dream is. Having never thought about it, JungKook doesn’t know. He hesitates and then asks what a dream is. HoSeok rattles off a few definitions from his phone. YoonGi questions, “How can something that you want to achieve most in your life and something that is unlikely to come true both be called a dream? … Don’t ever try to have a dream.” JungKook asks why. At his glance, YoonGi stops biting his nails and puts his hands in his pockets. “Because it’s tough having one.” JungKook is curious about why YoonGi bites his nails but doesn’t ask. He recalls that it has been a habit since his childhood to hurt himself. He remembers cutting his finger on a knife badly enough that his mom took him to the hospital, but she didn’t take care of him after they went home. His wound healed slowly because he kept pressing it; the pain helped him feel awake. Even now, he sometimes feels hollow.

TaeHyung asks how much longer they have to walk. HoSeok is puzzled, saying they should be close. They gaze around the empty, pebbled beach. JiMin sighs and reads aloud from an article on his phone. A resort will be built on this beach, and the construction company blew up the rock. They notice the cordoned off construction zone. They try to reassure each other to remain positive, but they all feel the disappointment of walking all that way for nothing. JungKook notices YoonGi biting his nails again and tries to stop him, but he is interrupted by a loud drilling noise. JungKook looks past him at the sea and all that remains of the dream-granting rock, the pebbles under their feet. “Is the world tough for you, too?” he asks, but YoonGi can’t hear him. JungKook screams again. “Do you want to give up on this world, too?” HoSeok and TaeHyung laugh at their mimed conversation. They all look out to the sea and shout their dreams. The drilling is so loud that they can’t hear each other. JungKook cannot even hear his own dream. When the noise stops, they cut off abruptly and laugh. SeokJin suggests that they take a photo. He sets the timer and runs to join their row, the sea behind them. They walk back to the train station. JungKook asks if he can keep the photo. SeokJin writes “June 12” on the back and gives it to him, telling him that his dream will come true. JungKook asks if SeokJin knows what he shouted to the sea, and SeokJin merely taps his shoulder and strides ahead.

BTS Universe Story : The Boy on the Threshold, ep.3

JungKook’s memory of the beach trip follows a similar structure to the scene in Notes 1, plus a notable addition. After they fail to find the dream-granting boulder, JungKook climbs up on the pier railing. He thinks: “I’ve always liked walking on the edge of walls or on top of lines. Focusing on centering my gravity means that I don’t really think of anything else, and the boundary—not quite a part of either place—always felt like where I should be.” Someone grabs his arm while he precariously balances. YoonGi tells him not to do that, and JungKook assures him that he won’t fall.

“YoonGi would often grab my arm when I walked on railings. The others would look after me, too, after seeing him do that. I liked their helping hands. It felt like they were telling me that I should go to them. That this wasn’t my place. Maybe their hands were why I walked on the railings.”

25 June Year 19 Notes 1 (SJ)

Alone in the classroom hideout, SeokJin finds a plant by the window. He takes pictures with his phone but doesn’t think they capture what the human eye sees. He notices that “HoSeok’s plant” is scribbled on the floor beneath the pot and then realizes that the window sills, walls, and ceiling are covered with graffiti and drawings, messages left behind by the students who once passed through that room. He wonders if there were past teachers who used violence and endless tests or students like him who ratted out their friends to the principal. Since his father also attended that high school, SeokJin looks for his name on the walls and finds it with a phrase written underneath: “Everything started from here.”

Note: TaeHyung, JiMin, NamJoon, and YoonGi discover several other familiar names near Kim ChangJun (SeokJin’s father) on the classroom wall in TaeHyung’s 23 July Year 22 entry from 7’s album Notes and the extended version in Notes 2.

30 August Year 19 Notes: Her

JiMin plays in HoSeok’s shadow while he is on the phone, reflecting on how HoSeok has accompanied him on the two-hour walk home since the beginning of the school semester. JiMin eventually realized that HoSeok didn’t live in the same direction but never questioned him, simply hoping that their time walking together would stretch the day out a little longer. HoSeok finishes on the phone and chases after him while the cicadas sing and their ice creams melt. Suddenly, JiMin is afraid, wondering how many of these days are left.

20 March Year 20 Notes 1 (TH)

TaeHyung sneaks up on NamJoon in the hallway by their classroom hideout. He stops when he hears SeokJin’s voice inside, apparently informing the principal about how TaeHyung and YoonGi had ditched school and got in a fight over the past few days. SeokJin throws open the door, phone in hand, and looks flustered to see NamJoon standing there. TaeHyung hides in a corner and is shocked to hear NamJoon assure him, “It’s OK. There must’ve been a good reason.” HoSeok and JiMin find TaeHyung in the hallway, and HoSeok pulls him into the classroom. NamJoon beams at TaeHyung as though nothing strange has happened. Believing that NamJoon “must have his reasons” because he is more intelligent and mature, TaeHyung decides not to tell anyone about the conversation he overheard.

15 May Year 20 Notes 1 (NJ)

NamJoon visits the classroom hideout on his last day of school. Two weeks prior, his family decided that they needed to move due to complications with his father’s health and their overdue rent. NamJoon tries to write a message on a piece of paper. He scribbles “I must survive” before the pencil lead snaps. He crumples the paper and writes in the dust on the window instead.

“No farewell message would be enough to let the others know how I felt. At the same time, no farewell message was needed to make myself understood. ‘See you again.’ It was a wish, rather than a promise.”

Note: “I must survive” is a recurring message tied to NamJoon in the BU MVs. See also 17 December Year 21.

7 June Year 20 Notes: Persona

TaeHyung’s two month old puppy Dubu slips out of the leash and disappears while he is distracted on his phone. TaeHyung runs around the neighborhood looking for him, first angry at the puppy and then blaming himself. When Dubu returns on his own, TaeHyung is filled with the unfamiliar feeling that he is someone who can be relied on.

11 June Year 20 BTS Universe Story: The Boy on the Threshold, ep.5 Everyone’s Place

In the classroom hideout, JungKook listens to YoonGi playing the piano. The sound of the music makes him feel as if YoonGi understands how he feels and is trying to console him. The Dean of Students forces the door open, demanding why they are there. He berates and slaps JungKook, knocking him to the floor. YoonGi steps between them and shoves the teacher’s shoulder. The dean warns him that he had better be prepared for the consequences of putting his hands on a teacher and then leaves. Despite his throbbing cheek, JungKook smiles because it is the first time someone has protected him, and the feeling of getting closer to YoonGi makes him giddy. For the next two weeks, YoonGi does not come to school.

25 June Year 20 Notes 1

JungKook’s entry:

JungKook tries to play the piano in the classroom hideout, unable to make it sound like YoonGi did. He reflects on the rumor that YoonGi was expelled after the events of 11 June and wonders if YoonGi would still be here playing the piano if JungKook had not been there that day when the teacher appeared.

YoonGi’s entry:

Breathing hard, YoonGi arrives at his bedroom, removes a half-burned piano key from an envelope in his desk drawer, and throws it into the trash can. He remembers a day four years ago when he returned to their burned down home and found a skeleton of the piano where his mother’s room used to stand. He noticed several piano keys on the ground and took one of them, wondering what note it was and how many times her fingers touched it. In the present, YoonGi thinks how unbearable living under his father’s rule is and recalls what happened that day: he is officially expelled from school. He picks up the piano key again and hurls it out the window.

“I couldn’t hear the piano key hit the ground. Now I’d never know what note it made. It’d never make a sound again. I’d never play the piano again.”

17 July Year 20 Notes 1 (SJ)

At the end of the last school day before summer vacation, SeokJin tries to leave quickly but is hailed by HoSeok and JiMin. No one knows that he was pressured by the principal and revealed their hideout, which led to JungKook and YoonGi being discovered (11 June) and the latter’s expulsion (25 June). HoSeok wishes SeokJin a good vacation and to keep in touch, but he can’t reply.

“My first day at this school crossed my mind as I passed through the school gate. We were all late and got punished. But we were together, so we could laugh together. I had ruined all those memories we shared.”

Note: Variations of the sentiment “we can laugh when we’re together” recur throughout BU.

15 September Year 20 Notes 1 (HS)

In the hospital emergency room, HoSeok wants to explain how JiMin had a seizure at the bus stop to his mother, Sim SeonMi. When the doctors wheel JiMin’s bed out, HoSeok begins to follow until SeonMi thanks him and touches his shoulder. He feels like she has drawn a line between them that he cannot cross. He falls to the floor, and when he looks up, JiMin’s bed is gone.

Note: The name of JiMin’s mother is specified in his BTS Universe Story arc, Stopped Time. JiMin’s 11 May Year 22 entry in Notes 1 reflects that he blacked out at the bus stop after seeing the window of the Grass Flower Arboretum shuttle bus open. His 12 August Year 22 entry in Notes 2 reveals the real cause of JiMin’s seizure at the bus stop: he sees the boy that he left behind at the arboretum warehouse on 6 April Year 11. Though the boy’s empty eyes no longer speak to JiMin, this chance encounter awakens his memories of that day.

28 September Year 20 Notes: Her and Smeraldo Books Twitter

JiMin, heavily medicated, has lost track of how long he has been back in the hospital. But he considers this a special day because he lies to the doctor for the first time about not remembering anything.

Note: He is lying about not remembering what triggered his seizure at the bus stop on 15 September and/or what happened at the Grass Flower Arboretum when he was a kid (see Notes 2 comments above). This lie is also referenced in his 11 May Year 22 entry in Notes 1.

30 September Year 20 Notes 1 (JK)

A teacher hits JungKook with an attendance book when he refuses to admit that he still visits the classroom hideout, reminding him of when YoonGi was beaten. Later, JungKook stands outside the room and imagines that the others are waiting for him on the other side. He opens the door to only find HoSeok, clearing out what remains of their belongings. HoSeok walks him out, and JungKook realizes that those days are gone and will never come again.

25 February Year 21 Notes: Her (HS)

HoSeok watches himself dance in the mirror. He has danced since he was around twelve and discovered an ecstasy that came from inside himself. Outside of the mirror, HoSeok is a person who collapses everywhere and takes medicine he doesn’t need, who smiles even when he hates it and isn’t happy. But when he dances, he truly becomes himself, casting away all that weighs him down and feeling that he can become happy.

2 May Year 21 Notes: Persona (JK)

Biking along the Yangjicheon riverbank, JungKook thinks about how his friends left him one by one and that no one at home or in the world smiles at him anymore. He stops in the shadows under a bridge. Nobody comes to this kind of ruined place, and maybe that is the reason no one comes to him either. He feels most comfortable alone in the complete darkness where no one will look for him and wants the moment to never end.

9 August Year 21 Notes: Persona (SJ)

SeokJin walks along a Los Angeles beach and photographs the ocean. It has been a year since he fled Songju and moved to his mother’s family’s home, where he grew up as a child. He doesn’t photograph people anymore and didn’t bring any photos from high school with him, afraid to remember who he was at that time or to wonder about how his friends are doing and whether they still think of him.

17 December Year 21 Notes 1 (NJ)

This lengthy entry details events that transpired since the autumn of Year 20 when NamJoon’s family moved to the village, framed by moments on 17 December itself as NamJoon leaves on his own. His family chooses this village because it has a nearby hospital for his ailing father and employers who will hire someone without a high school diploma. NamJoon serves as a delivery boy for an eatery, competing for work with the other local boys. They grow a strange sense of solidarity, and he privately dubs one of them “TaeHyung,” even though the boy’s discontent, outward behavior is more akin to YoonGi’s. (Quotation marks added to the name here for clarity.) Competition slackens when snow falls in winter. NamJoon and “TaeHyung” are the only ones poor enough to risk the road up to the mountain town’s rest area when orders are phoned to the village below. On an afternoon forecast to have heavy snowfall, the restaurant owner dismisses “TaeHyung” due to his bruised face and gives the deliveries to NamJoon. The old delivery scooter fishtails on NamJoon’s third trip down the mountain, throwing him off. More anxious about the scratched scooter than his cut ankle and aching body, NamJoon finally gets it to restart and returns to the eatery. “TaeHyung,” who has been hanging around this whole time, approaches and asks for a favor. Before he can answer, NamJoon receives a call from his mother relaying that his father went outside alone and fell, requiring a trip to the hospital. NamJoon understands that his father was only trying to keep his dignity but is still frustrated because he can’t earn any more much-needed money this day. He hands “TaeHyung” the keys and leaves to take his father to the hospital.

The next day, NamJoon learns that “TaeHyung” was in a fatal accident during one of the deliveries up the mountain. The police officer blames him for being a poor driver and not wearing a helmet. NamJoon does not speak up that he has never seen the helmet the owner now has placed out on the counter. He visits the scene of the accident, thinking that the white outline on the road could be his if he was the one to make the next delivery—just as it could be his family mourning in the village instead of “TaeHyung’s” mother. On a later trip carrying his father home from the bus stop, NamJoon pretends not to hear his father’s frail voice over the noise of barking dogs. A week after that, NamJoon is making steady deliveries up the mountain. During what is ultimately his last delivery, he speaks with a stranger at the rest area, who cautions him to take care. “Do you know what’s really dangerous? Calcium chloride and wet leaves, not the snow itself,” the stranger blurts as NamJoon departs. NamJoon drives carefully back, not looking at the scene of the accident. This is not out of safety, as he tries to convince himself, but guilt: guilt for surviving, for his relief of being the one alive, for not defending “TaeHyung’s” driving skills. He also wonders if he is “a hypocrite pretending to have a guilty conscience.” Because he scattered wet leaves and sprinkled calcium chloride to prevent the road from icing over where he fell that afternoon, believing that he would be making the next delivery. If he did not do both those things, would “TaeHyung” be alive?

Mind and body numb, NamJoon makes it home from the delivery detached from the world around him. The barking dogs snap him out of the daze, and he remembers his father’s words that he pretended not to hear and dwelled on daily despite trying not to think about them: “Go, NamJoon. You must survive.” The next morning (17 December), NamJoon sneaks away to the bus stop. He is running away from his family’s misfortunes, from his own resignation to his fate, from poverty. The bus is scheduled to arrive in Songju in a few hours—the city he left with no notice and is returning to once more with the same. NamJoon wonders if his old friends still live there and how they are doing. On the frosted window, he writes with his finger: “I must survive.”

Note: The village boy’s real name is JongHun according to NamJoon’s 12 June Year 22 entry in Notes 2, which also reveals that he visited JongHun’s home to give his condolences before he left town.

1 February Year 22 Notes: 7 (SJ)

Summoned by his father without explanation, SeokJin flies back to Korea from Los Angeles. Although he has addresses in both LA and Songju, neither place feels like his home.

———————————————————

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Posted May 5, 2021

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cluz1babe · 3 years

Text

*** Episode 2 Chapter 4 (STSF) ***

Dean leaned back in the booth. “Since I have you here, can I ask you something?”

“I get the feeling you’re gonna ask me more than something.”

He smirked and continued, “Do you trust me?”

“That’s kind of...” She paused, “Yeah.”

“Why don’t you trust my brother?”

“Sam didn’t tell you?” She shifted and Dean could see the discomfort in her face. “We tried to— I tried to connect with him.”

“It didn’t turn out well.”

“What happened?”

“I saw things I probably shouldn’t have. Instead of those thoughts and feelings flowing back and forth between us, it was all coming from him and going into me. Couldn’t control it.”

“What’d you see?”

She closed her eyes and focused her breathing, bringing it all back to her memory. “There was this person—a man. No, not a man. He had these yellow eyes."

“You saw Azazel. Did you see what he did?”

“No, but I tasted it.”

“And the other times.”

"And everything else."

“There was so much. There was Hell."

"Then almost like he felt…nothing"

“…and he did things… I can’t really judge him based on those actions. And there were a few beautiful things."

“Did you see Lucifer?” Dean asked.

“Yes. He was beautiful.”

“Beautiful?”

Y/N thought of his radiant grace. “His true form was beautiful, but I could also feel the terror. The fact that he was beautiful is no comparison to that feeling.” She thought for a moment. “There were two others in the cage. One was an angel, but don’t know who the other was.”

“Yeah… His name was Adam.”

“Who was he?”

“Our brother. We were related through dad. Michael used him as a vessel and they ended up in the cage with Sam and Lucifer.”

“Oh...” Y/N tried to find anything else to look at. Why hadn’t they told her about any of this?

“I don’t feel like talkin’ about it right now.”

I guess that’s fair, considering I’ve only known them two and a half weeks, she thought.

“What about Cas? Why have you been avoiding him?” Dean questioned.

“I don’t know. I just don’t feel right around him.”

Dean thinks about it for a moment. “Let’s start with something small about you.”

“As in?”

“What’s your last name?

Y/N rolled her eyes. “How many times do I need to have this conversation before you believe me? I don’t know. Or I don’t have one... It’s difficult to find that information without an official document. I wasn’t born in a hospital.”

“You sayin’ you don’t know who your parents are?”

She sighed, “Actually, I don’t care.”

“How can you not care?”

“They decided to check out early and tried to take me with them. That’s how.”

This revelation was unexpected and Dean didn’t know what to say.

“Look, I don’t know anything relevant to my life before 1995.” She continued. "Can we have fun now?”

“Alright, fine. You tell me what you want to tell me.”

“I was raised in a group home."

"Sort of. Someone saved me from my parents' death trap.”

When his senses returned, he prodded her for more. “How old are you?” “I don’t know exactly how old I am, but I was somewhere between 3 and 5 in 1995. Stopped aging in 2016, I think. At least, enough to be noticeable.”

“So you’re in your 30s?”

Y/N shrugged, “Best guess. Only it’s not that simple. There are feelings, thoughts, languages...like memories, in my head. Stuff there's no way I would know if I’m only in my thirties. I often question if what I remember is real or if the other stuff is.”

“What are some of those memories?”

“Actually sounds like you might have a lot in common with Cas.”

"Do you remember what I showed you?” Y/N asked.

“Nothing specific. It all runs together like—“

“Indecipherable thoughts strung together.”

"Within an acid trip.”

"Yeah", she agreed.

Dean swallowed, "Just thinkin' about it makes me want another drink."

“Tell me something about you that know one knows.”

“Sam is the only person who knows almost everything about me and the things he doesn’t know are way too private to be telling anyone else.”

“So tell me something almost no one knows about you.” Y/N pressed after too many drinks.

“I had a daughter.”

Y/N stopped completely, and stared at Dean. “Had? What happened?”

“She was killed.”

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s not the worst part.”

Dumbfounded, Y/N had to ask, “What could make that worse?”

“Sam’s the one who killed her.”

Y/N’s eyes were fixed to Dean’s trying to figure out if he was telling some morbid joke that she didn’t understand. “H-how—?”

“She was trying to kill me.”

Y/N was trying to imagine it in her head. Was she a toddler? 8? 13? Why was she trying to kill him? Maybe it was a possession? That doesn’t seem right. These guys can handle a possession, easily. Plus, they have an angel on their side. “I-I’m sorry.” She didn’t know what else to say.

“I only knew her for a day. I slept with her completely non-pregnant mom. Three days later, she looked like she was 15 years old. Trying to kill me to be accepted into her tribe.”

The more he talked, the more confused Y/N felt, until he told her the full story.

There was a long silence before she finally spoke again.

“Shots!” She blurted out and left her third beer at the table. This conversation was making her uncomfortable. She wasn’t expecting someone like Dean to drop a bomb like that. She slid out of her side in the booth, as quickly as possible.

The band on stage started playing a cover of Led Zeppelin’s Dancing Days and an older gentleman at the bar grabbed Y/N’s hand. At first, Dean thought he was going to have to step in, but She went with him. He was leading her out to the floor in front the stage and started dancing. At first, she laughed, but the man insisted by continuing his dancing. She finally relented and began dancing with him.

There was a crooked smile on Dean’s face. He hadn’t seen her like this before. It was cute. He took a moment watching before he started to feel a pang of envy. He wanted to dance with her. Closer than this man was, though.

However, when Y/N turned to look at him, there was something about her that reminded him of Lisa. There was a different pang in his chest, and his smile was gone. What am I doing here with Y/N? She’s at least 10 years younger. Maybe 12.

When the song was over, She and Dean were laughing again. Maybe the liquor was helping him forget Lisa again. His phone buzzed and he checked it. He made a slight grin upon seeing the message.

“Your brother wondering what we’re up to?”

“No.”

“Castiel?”

It buzzed again. Same reaction. “Definitely not”, he said.

“Ah, you’re talking to a woman.”

“It’s a dating app. Sometimes I get random messages.” Another buzz. “This one’s a picture.”

“Ooh! Let me see.”

“No. When someone shares a picture, you keep it safe and secret. Hidden to the rest of the world. It’s the respectful thing to do.”

“Ask her if I can see it.”

“Why would I do that?” Dean asked, perplexed and also intrigued by the idea.

“You interrupted fun drinking and sharing time by bringing another woman. Even if it is via smartphone. I’d like to know who else it sitting at this table and what they have goin’ on. — Be sure to let her know I’m also into women.”

"Lookin' for a threesome?”

"Why not?”

After giving her a devilish smile, he sends an ask the other woman he's messaging. Dean then leaned in close to Y/N, placed his hand on her thigh, making sure his lips were close to her ear so she could hear him. "Are you trying hard to be naughty or are you just trouble?”

"I'm trouble all the time. Naughty on the side, and nasty late at night." She caught her dumb line and chalked it up to the alcohol. They both giggled. "I'm sorry. I've never been good with my words, especially when I'm tryin' to flirt.”

"It's okay. Maybe I can teach you." Dean caught her lips with his and the kiss quickly became heated, with his hand traveling up her leg and to her breast. Her hand was grazing his crotch, feeling him getting hard. Even right here in front of everyone, he might screw her. He couldn't understand this desire to be inside of her so badly. When his phone buzzed in a reply, he handed Y/N his phone.

She looked at him, impressed. “Wow. Not bad.”

“Yeah, yeah. I don’t get it, though.”

“What?”

“The lack of hair. One, I thought that was over by 2010. Two, I just don’t feel that comfortable with it.”

Y/N shrugged, “So don‘t fuck her.”

“Easier said than done.”

She scoffed, “Why does a woman’s personal choice about her body hair bother you at all?”

“Makes me feel like a sex offender.”

“Sounds like your personal problem.”

“Well, also her age.”

“What’s wrong with her age?” Y/N inquired.

“Too young.”

“Too young?”

“Too young. I need to find someone my own age and stop runnin’ around, you know?” Dean looked off into the distance.

“Settle down? You?”

“Yeah.”

Y/N laughed at him and replied with a smile, “Sure.”

*** EPISODE 1 ***

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

Part One - Episode Two

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

PLAYLIST Ep 2 Ch 1-4

EXTRAS:

AO3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*** Strong Tongue and Slender Fingers *** (Here and AO3)

*** Alt Strong Tongue and Slender Fingers Smut Scenes *** (Here and AO3)

KLEE (Original Version) (Currently only on AO3)

Alt KLEE Smut (Currently only on AO3)

#fanfiction #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #castiel #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #strong tongue and slender fingers #playlist

13 notes · View notes

storiesforallfandoms · 5 years

Text

a great team ~ yungblud

word count: 1730

request?: yes!

“could u maybe write a dom/yungblud fic?? maybe he meets a writer working for his record label (she could be writing someones biography or smth) and they hit it off and then maaaybe flashfoward to them being together??”

(i made her a songwriter i hope that’s okay!)

description: in which a famous songwriter is paired up with a famous alt. rock musician and they find out that they’re a great team, in more ways than one

pairing: yungblud x female!reader

warnings: swearing mainly

masterlist

You checked the time again as you tapped your fingers against the steering wheel. You were late for the meeting you had with the new artist you were supposed to be working with because you left your house later than you meant and got stuck in traffic. You didn’t even know who you were supposed to be working with because your agency hadn’t told you who it was yet, so you couldn’t even contact the person to tell them you’d be late!

You sighed heavily as your car moved about another inch. You looked at the time once again, willing the traffic to let up so you could make it before the artist just left.

The one upside to being stuck in traffic was that you were having some good ideas for songs. The downside was that because you didn’t know who the person you were supposed to be working with was, you had no idea if the song would be the right genre for the artist. Regardless, every time your car came to a stop you wrote some more lyrics down. By the time you finally got through the traffic you had a whole song written.

You were humming a possible beat to yourself as you raced through the hall till you got to the studio you were book in for the day.

“I am so sorry, traffic was absolutely awful and I got stuck,” you explained the moment you pushed the door open.

The person waiting for you was a younger looking guy with a messy mop of black hair, wearing an oversized hoodie and a pair of skinny jeans. He looked up at you and smiled.

“It’s cool! I figured that’s what it was. I’m not long here myself,” he responded. He stood and held his hand out to you. “I’m Dom, professionally known as Yungblud.”

“Oh! Yeah, I know you. I love your latest EP, it’s like the most played thing on my phone right now.” You realized his hand was still extended to you. “Oh! Right! I’m (Y/N).”

“Nice to meet you, (Y/N),” Dom said.

“So,” you said as you both sat down together, “why do you need a songwriter? I thought you wrote your own stuff.”

“I do,” Dom responded. “But my label is pushing for my next album like now, so they called in some help. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for the help, but I hate being rushed. Making music is a process that can’t be rushed.”

“Trust me, I understand. I’ve had my fair share of singers essentially being forced to work with me because they’re under some sort of time limit to get an album done. Record labels just don’t get it because all they do is slap their name on the thing and release it to the world.” You shrugged. “On the positive side of all of this, while I was stuck in traffic I managed to write a song if you wanna check it out.”

“Like a completed song?” You nodded your head and laughed at Dom’s bewildered expression. “Yes! Let me see it!”

You passed Dom your phone. You watched him read through the lyrics in silence, waiting anxiously for his reaction.

He started nodding his head and humming to himself before singing a couple of the lyrics. The melody he came up with was definitely much better than what you were humming.

“It’s amazing!” he finally said. “That’s perfect! I have to make a note of this melody in my head before we continue. We’ll work on the instrumentals later. I only need like four more songs and then the album is ready to go.”

“Let’s get to work then!”

You two were sat there for hours on end. It was easy bouncing ideas off of one another and banging out three more songs together. It was as if you both had the same mind when it came to songs and lyrics, and even melodies as you were eventually coming up with the instrumental ideas for the songs and both your ideas were the exact same.

Before you knew it, you had the album written. All that was left to do was figure out the instrumentals and the vocals.

“Well, that was a breeze,” Dom commented. “We make a pretty great team, huh?”

“Honestly, you’re the best musician I’ve worked with,” you told him. “Most people I work with, especially on such a strict deadline, are so hard to write with. They want the album to be perfect since it’s so close to being released that they refuse some of the stuff I write because it’s ‘not their style’ and ‘too simple’. I wonder why they kept me around for so long. Realistically, you could’ve told me to leave at any time if you weren’t enjoying my company.”

“That’s awful,” Dom said. “I don’t understand how people can turn down help when they obviously need it. It’s hard enough to write one song by yourself, let alone having to do multiple in one session. Even if the lyric didn’t sound like something they’d sing, that’s why they’re there, to make it sound like their style.”

You shrugged. “Some people are afraid of being called out for having a ghostwriter, too. I’ve worked with a couple artists who said they’d consider my ideas and then didn’t use them at all so they didn’t have to put my name in the writing credits. It’s all about appearance, you know. If you’re found out to have a song writer help you they accuse you of ghostwriting. It’s hard in the industry to be a songwriter alone and not a singer-songwriter.”

Dom shook his head. “That’s not right. Most people need a professional songwriter to help them out.”

You chuckled. “Yeah, tell me about it.”

There was a prolonged silence between the two of you. You weren’t sure what else to say or do. You both technically had the studio booked for another hour, but there wasn’t much that could be done right now without a producer or any musicians present. A couple of the songs written were meant to be collabs with other singers, so those couldn’t be done until Dom reached out to those artists.

“So,” Dom started after a moment, “you said I can tell you to leave at anytime. I know we technically have another hour before our session is up, but would you be opposed to being kept a bit over our time?”

You raised an eyebrow, confused by his question. “What do you mean?”

“Like...I dunno, would you wanna grab something to eat or something?”

You couldn’t help but smile at the question. “Yeah, I would love that.”

~~~~~~

A few months later, you were sat at home watching a late night talk show in which Dom was performing and being interviewed. His performance, which was of the song you had written that day in traffic, had just ended and you were waiting for the show to start back up after the commercials.

When it finally did, there was Dom, sat next to the interviewer and smiling widely.

“Welcome back, ladies and gentlemen we are sat down now with Yungblud!” the host announced. The crowd cheered in excitement and Dom was beaming at them all. “So, this new album, it comes out in about a week. What can fans expect from the album?”

“It’s a sort of different album as far as what fans usually get from me. It’s still my usual style but it’s sort of different subject matters on each song than what I usually sing about.”

“And I heard that you actually had a songwriter brought in to help you write some of the songs.”

Dom nodded proudly, unashamed to admit it. “I did, yeah! Her name is (Y/N). She’s honestly the best songwriter in the game if you ask me. We got together and I’d say in 2 hours flat we had songs written, melodies figured out and we had sent out samples to artists we wanted featured on the album. That’s the fastest I’ve ever gotten anything done.”

The audience applauded and you couldn’t help but smile at, even though no one could see you.

“On the topic of this songwriter,” the interviewer continued, “there have been some reports that the two of you may or may not be dating. There’s been pictures of the two of you together getting very cozy.”

The smile on Dom’s face only got wider. He looked up at the interviewer and shrugged before responding, “I guess the cat’s out of the bag. Yeah, we are dating. We have been since that day in the studio, actually. We thought we made a great team songwriting wise, let’s see if we make a great team dating wise. And so here we are.”

The crowed cheered excitedly. You felt as if a massive weight had been lifted off your shoulders. Keeping this relationship a secret, even if for a couple of months, had been the toughest thing for you. You just wanted to tell everyone that you two were together. To post all the cute pictures you had saved on your phone, to not be afraid of being caught by fans or paparazzi. To just be a happy couple in public no matter what.

Now, it was out there for the world to know, and you couldn’t feel happier about it.

The interview continued until the host thanked Dom for coming onto the show and plugging his album one last time before going to commercial. Nearly seconds later, you phone was ringing. You looked down to see that it was Dom trying to facetime you. His face was still beaming with pride when you answered his call.

“Did you see it, babe?” he asked. He sounded so excited, like a kid in a candy store.

“I saw it,” you confirmed. “How do you feel, baby?”

“I feel so free!” he declared. “I’m so glad to publicly call you mine.”

You couldn’t help but giggle. “I’m glad to publicly call you mine, too. Finish up your press tour for your album soon and come back to me, I miss you.”

“I miss you, too, love,” he told you. “I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

He kissed his camera and you giggled again, kissing yours back. Yeah, you both definitely made a great team.

I’m sorry if this sucked :/

#yungblud #yungblud imagine #yungblud x reader #dominic harrison #dominic Harrison imagine #dominic Harrison x reader #imagine #request #one shot #imagine request #leave a request

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fictionisfact · 4 years

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A/N: I’m in love with Ty so I really wanted to write this little Ty x reader. Don’t get me wrong, I love Ty and Annie together, I just wanted to try writing. I really hope you guys enjoy and this gif is so cute. 🥺

Here for you

Based on S1 Ep. 9

“Prom does not sound fun, at all, especially if you have no one to go with.” Annie stated unamused.

“Prom is probably going to be the best experience of our high school lives!” You exclaimed confidently with a huge grin on your face. “Plus we can always go together.”

You were currently chilling on Annie’s bed making small talk. She just got back from Aunt Helen’s not too long ago. You lived with Annie and Dana Sue ever since your parents died, which happened when you were 5. Although you and Annie were cousins, you practically became sisters and Dana Sue was basically your second mom.

Just as you girls stopped laughing at your dumbfounded excitement, Dana Sue leaned against the door frame of the current occupied room.

“Okay girls, it’s Margarita night so get dressed. We’re going over to Maddie’s house tonight. Lord knows she needs this after the whole Kyle situation today.”

Your face turned into a frown at the mention of Kyle. He was like the little brother you never had and you loved him dearly.

“Yes ma’am.” You responded excitedly at the thought of seeing him. You jumped off the bed and ran to your room to get dressed.

“Well, we know who she’s excited to see.” Dana Sue said chuckling. Annie laughed along as she nodded her head knowing what her mom was talking about.

You scanned through your closet and settled on a white crop top with light blue jeans. You looked at yourself in the full length mirror you had in your room and was very pleased.

You tied your white shoes after slipping them on and decided to wait in the kitchen for Dana Sue and Annie. After a few minutes of waiting with Annie. Dana Sue came out of her room and told you both to get in the car.

The drive was not long at all and it was very familiar, as you came to Maddie’s often. After all Tyler, or Ty, was your best friend and you guys hung out non-stop. It’s funny because everyone swears you guys would be a cute couple. They expect you guys to get married when you’re both older because of how close you are. You always turned the idea down though because you thought it was extremely cheesy.

When you walked through the front door, Aunt Helen and Aunt Maddie were standing there waiting for Annie and you.

“Oh! How are you honey?” Maddie asked as she gave you a bone crushing hug, while Annie gave Helen one at the same time.

“I’ve been well thank you. I don’t even need to ask about you though. If you ever need help, I’m here for you Aunt Maddie.” You replied sweetly as you pulled away from the hug with a small smile on your lips.

“You’re too kind *y/n*, I can always count on you.” She said as she rested her hands on your shoulders. You and Annie switched Aunts to hug the other. After the hugging was done Maddie called down Kyle.

He walked down the stairs begrudgingly, as everyone stared at him. Maddie walked away once he was at the bottom of the steps, to let his friends talk to him.

He stood there awkwardly until he mustered up enough courage to say something to the three people waiting.

“I was a jerk today, not a team player at all,” he started, as Helen gave him a slight nod confirming his claims, “and I’m very sorry,” he finished. Helen gave him a tight lipped smile while you gave him a small comforting one.

“You put us in a very bad state, dear heart. You’ll have to make apologies tomorrow to the rest of the team. You know that, don’t you?” She queried as he stared blankly until he looked up at her.

“Yes Aunt Helen.” He replied solemnly.

“Hmm. All right then. I am not gonna pile on you, considering that you’re probably grounded for a dog’s age already.” She said as she leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek. You and Annie giggled quietly at Helen’s funny remark. She walked away leaving you, Annie, and Kyle alone.

You pulled him in for a tight hug. You sighed happily, knowing that he is safe and sound

“Don’t ever scare me like that again ok? I love you.” You mumbled into his ear. He eargely shook his head agreeing.

You stepped back away from him and looked between Annie and him. You sensed that they needed to be alone after what had happened.

“Umm, I’m going to check on Ty.” You said as you rubbed the back of your neck and start for the stairs.

“Mhmm. You go do that. Have fun!” Annie said with a huge smirk on her face. Her and Kyle started laughing at your blushed state. Nobody will ever live that down you thought to yourself.

“You’re evil you know that?” You asked looking back at them while walking up the stairs. He’s talking to CeCe anyways, he doesn’t like me like that you assured yourself. Although he has been acting weird around you lately.

Once you made it to the top, you turn the corner and head towards the familiar room you have been in countless of times. You open the door and close it leaving a little crack open. Ty sat on his bed on his phone. Once he saw you he sat up with a huge grin plastered across his face.

“Hey *y/n*!” He said, happy that he finally had some company let alone his best friend. You two hugged and then sat on his bed to chill for a bit.

“So how are you and CeCe?” You asked poking him in his side with an innocent smile. You were genuinely curious as he never talked about her. Another point to him acting weird. He always talked about everything with you but recently, he hasn’t which you understand as it was most likely because of his parents divorce.

“Good I guess,” he responded rubbing his neck. You nodded understanding he didn’t want to expand on the subject. CeCe has never liked you as you were one of the most prettiest girls in school, which meant you were slightly more popular than her. She’s jealous of you and Ty’s relationship too.

You shivered from the fan’s cool breeze above you. You immediately regretted wearing a tank top that was exposing a lot of skin.

“Why is it so cold in here?!” You blurted out in irritation. Ty shot you a weird look.

“What do you mean? I’m super hot.” He said standing up from the bed. “You know you’re too sensitive for your own good.” He chuckled lightly at your face you were making. He grabbed one of his sweatshirts and tossed it at you. It landed right on your face.

“Thank you.” You said, muffled from the sweatshirt on your face. He sat back down again while you slid on the sweatshirt it was big on you but that’s how you liked it. He leaned his head on his hand looking down at you. You turned to see him staring at you.

“What?” You queried as he gave you a look he’s never given you before. You smiled cautiously at his strange behavior.

“Noreen left my dad.” He said with a slight shrug, still looking at you. A frown creeped onto your face knowing that he’s going to be affected once again.

“I’m so sorry Ty. I know how hard the divorce was for you, this must be a little hard to.” You grabbed his free hand to comfort him. “I’m always here for you if you ever need someone to talk to. I’m great at listening.” You told him smiling from ear to ear.

“That’s what I love about you, you’re so kind, caring, beautiful.” He said throwing the last adjective out of the blue. Still you smiled at his kind words.

Before you could thank him, he started leaning in. It all happened so fast you couldn’t comprehend. He kissed you softly. As you realize what was happening you push him off and you sit up with a jolt. Tyler Townsend, your best friend since the age of 5, just kissed you. Your eyes grew wide and you just stared blankly in front of you.

“I-I’m sorry I don’t know what I was thinking-“ he claimed as he scrambled off the bed. He too had wide eyes from his previous actions. “Um, I have to get to Gabe’s, I’ll see you later?” He nervously said as he tried to move past what just happened.

Before you could say “okay”, he bolted out of his room and down the stairs. You quickly realized that you guys needed to talk. You tried to chase after him, but him being a lot faster than you, you knew you couldn’t make it in time.

“Later, prisoners. I am a law-abiding citizen so I am going to Gabe’s!” You heard him yell from the living room. As you get to the bottom of the stairs, he had already shut the door behind him.

You sigh in disbelief. You didn’t mean to be so frozen or quiet about it. You were just caught off guard, EXTREMLY off guard. You slowly walked into living room to see Annie and Kyle playing cards. They just finished talking about their prom night plans. Although you wanted to oppose of it and make Annie go with you, you were to busy with your own problems.

“Can I join you guys?” You asked shyly with a small smile. You sat on the floor across from Kyle.

“Of course!” Annie responded enthusiastically. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, you ok?” She asked hesitantly. You stopped staring into space at her sudden question.

“Yup. All good here.” You said not so confidently. Little did they know, a lot was going to be changing soon.

Part 2

Okay wow kinda happy with this, I might make a part 2 because I had more planned out like reader going to prom with Jackson making Ty jealous.

#sweet magnolias #ty x reader #tyler townsend #tyler townsend x reader #annie sullivan #ty townsend #x reader #best friends #best friend

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