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mascwhump · 3 years

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Trenches, Part 2

Chapter 1: Thoughts of a Dying Atheist

CW: smothering, disordered eating (implied), manhandling, concussion, needles, noncon drugging

Tag list: @whatwasmyprevioususername @milk-carton-whump @whumpasaurus101 @whatwhumpcomments @mnmlover2002 @ashintheairlikesnow @tears-and-lilies @utopian819

"To make a long fucking story short," Mallory sighed as he tightly gripped the steering wheel. His knuckles were beginning to turn white. Nikolas turned to look at him, waiting for him to continue speaking.

"Some kind of WikiLeaks knockoff got ahold of some emails and they're demanding money to keep them secret. We're hiding until the government negotiates," Mallory finally said. Rain pattered against the windshield, increasing in intensity as Mallory sped up.

There was nothing to be seen outside the window besides dirt, rocks, dead plants, and distant mountains. Mallory was fidgeting in his seat as he reached to turn on the radio. He was going over 100 miles per hour now, determined to make it to Reno before the sun went down. The desolate dirt road was filling him with anxiety.

He adjusted the rear view mirror to look into the backseat. Charlie was asleep with his head against the door. The hood of the Oxford hoodie hung over his eyes just enough to block out the light. Mallory put the mirror back in its place and flipped through the radio stations. The ones that had good connection weren't anything worth listening to.

Eventually, the signal fizzled out into nothing. Mallory let the static play. They soon reached Tonopah and pulled into a gas station. Charlie woke up when Mallory shut off the engine.

"Not a word, remember?" Mallory threatened quietly as they got out of the car. Charlie nodded.

"Good. You can get a snack and something to drink."

Nikolas had already disappeared inside the gas station. Charlie grabbed a bottle of Pepsi and a bag of Chex Mix before meeting Mallory at the register. He shoved his hands into the pocket of the hoodie, avoiding eye contact with the clerk. He could feel her eyes on him, examining the cut on his lip and the healing bruise on his brow. They finished the transaction and went back to the car, where Nikolas already pumping the gas.

Soon, they were off again. Charlie quietly nibbled on the Chex Mix and sipped his soda. It had been so long since he had junk food, never mind a soda. Nikolas was picking at pathetic salad while Mallory attempted to eat a protein bar one-handed. The rest of the drive was fairly uneventful, and Charlie had managed to sleep for most of it. They pulled up to the house an hour before sunset.

It was very industrial-looking, and sat on a hill. There was a view of the rest of Sparks and most of Reno. Mallory unlocked the door, and Charlie and Nikolas followed him inside. The pair froze when they heard footsteps coming toward them. Charlie was surprised to see Basil appear from the hallway.

"All clear, sir," Basil spoke. His eyes seemed to light up when he saw Charlie.

"Good, good. Alright. Nikolas, your room is down here, across from Basil's. Charlie, you're upstairs with me. Basil, I'm sending you into town to get some things," Mallory said as he walked into the kitchen, setting things down on the counter. He took a notepad out of a drawer and began making a list. He tore off the sheet and handed it to Basil, along with two-hundred dollars and his keys.

Basil glanced over the list before shoving it into his pocket. He left before Mallory could give him any new orders. Charlie stood awkwardly by the stairs as Nikolas went to his room and Mallory walked over to a window. He then felt something touch his leg, and looked down to find Sasha rubbing against his sweats.

"Sasha," Charlie said quietly as he leaned down to pick her up. He placed her on his lap as he sat down on the bottom steps.

"I missed you," he whispered. He could feel his throat tighten as tears formed in his eyes. Sasha snuggled against his hands as he pet her. It was the first bit of genuine affection he had received in months; it almost felt alien.

"She missed you," Mallory said as he reached for her. Charlie hadn't noticed him move. He whined against his will as Sasha was removed from his lap.

"You're really pathetic," Mallory jeered. He cradled Sasha in his arms as he walked back to the window. Charlie remained on the stairs until Basil returned with groceries. It was enough to feed the four of them for a week, maybe ten days if Charlie was given his usual portions.

"I'm going to have a bath. Nik, cook us something, will you?" Mallory said. Nikolas ended up making spaghetti. Charlie could tell he wasn’t very fond of cooking. After dinner, Charlie begrudgingly followed Mallory up the steps and into the bedroom. He stood awkwardly by the door.

“Just lie down somewhere. Not my bed, though,” Mallory said as he pulled back the sheets.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Charlie mumbled. Mallory stopped what he was doing and shot him a glare.

“Speak up if you’re going to talk to me like that. You know, you’re lucky I forgot your collar,” he hissed. Charlie let out a silent sigh and went to an empty corner of the room. He did his best to get comfortable, and he was grateful for the plush carpeting.

Mallory got into bed and shut off the light. He began to watch videos on his phone, much to Charlie’s annoyance. He just wanted to sleep. He did his best to block out the sound. After awhile, Mallory finally shut off the videos and settled. Charlie thought about grabbing a pillow and smothering him in his sleep.

Charlie was still wide awake long after Mallory had fallen asleep. He decided to creep downstairs to get a glass of water. Carefully, he stepped to the door and twisted the handle slowly. The door didn’t squeak, much to his relief. He slipped out of the door and down the steps successfully. He walked into the kitchen, but froze when he saw Nikolas there. Nikolas was sitting at the counter on his phone, eating a bowl of ice cream. He looked up and stared at Charlie for a moment before going back to what he was doing.

Charlie slowly continued to the cabinet where the glasses were. He kept glancing back at Nikolas as he got his water. He drank it quickly, practically chugging it before cleaning the glass and returning it to its place in the cabinet.

“Nikolas?” He said quietly. Nikolas looked up from his phone again.

“You won’t tell him, will you?” Charlie asked sheepishly. Nikolas shook his head.

Charlie went back upstairs and opened the door slowly. His blood ran cold when he saw Mallory sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Why’d you go downstairs?” He asked.

“I-I’m sorry, I just needed some water, and I didn’t want to wake you up by getting it from the bathroom,” Charlie replied. His grip on the door handle tightened as Mallory moved from the bed.

Charlie began to back out of the room as he was approached. He was nearing the stairs, and knew he couldn’t move any more.

“Then stay down there,” Mallory said. He pushed hard on Charlie’s shoulders, sending him backwards and down the stairs. Charlie hit the floor with a loud thud. His head smacked against the wood, causing his vision to double. Mallory went back into his room and slammed the door.

Charlie stayed where he was and fought back tears. His body was aching. His head began throbbing with sharp pains. He eventually tore his gaze away from the ceiling and looked over at Nikolas, who was staring at him. He then walked over, and shined the flashlight of his phone into Charlie’s eyes.

Nikolas nodded before going over to the couch and pointing at it. Charlie forced himself up, stumbling as he made his way to the couch. He sat down, and Nikolas shook his head. He gently pushed on Charlie’s shoulder to get him to lie down. After he did, Nikolas walked away. The room was spinning, and Charlie was becoming nauseated. He closed his eyes in attempt to stop the motion, but still felt as though he was on a boat.

He heard footsteps and opened his eyes again. Mallory was at the bottom of the stairs, staring at him. He eventually walked over and shined his own flashlight into Charlie’s eyes.

“Fucking hell,” he sighed, “your pupils are completely different sizes.” Nikolas returned with a syringe in his hand.

“No. I’m not wasting that on this,” Mallory protested.

Charlie began to gag and rolled off of the couch onto his knees. He got up as quickly as he could and rushed to the bathroom.

“Fine,” Mallory hissed, “give it to him.” Nikolas went to Charlie and gave him the serum. When they returned to the living room, Mallory was standing with his arms folded.

“I’m fucking exhausted. No more of this tonight. Come on,” Mallory said.

Charlie followed him back up the stairs. He went back into his spot in the corner and sat against the wall. Mallory fell asleep again quickly, while Charlie couldn’t even close his eyes. It wasn’t anything new for him. He hadn’t been able to sleep at night in months. He slept periodically throughout the day.

An hour passed, and Sasha began scratching at the door to be let out of the room. When Charlie opened it, Mallory woke up.

“Again?” He questioned.

“I’m letting her out,” Charlie said.

“I just want to fucking sleep,” Mallory groaned as he put his pillow over his head. Charlie’s mind drifted back to his earlier thought, and his heart raced. He could do it. The opportunity was there. He should have learned by now that taking risks never worked in his favor. But he hadn’t.

The first part was easy enough. He just pressed down as hard as he could. He wasn’t prepared for the struggle, though, and panicked. He had to get on top of Mallory to prevent him from moving any more. Mallory scratched at his arms hard enough to draw blood; it was dripping down, staining the pillow red.

Mallory was becoming weaker by the second. Charlie maintained his hold, until he looked over and saw Sasha looking at him from the floor. She let out a small meow, and a switch flipped in Charlie’s head. He abruptly stopped his assault and tore the pillow away. Mallory began violently choking in air. Charlie was frozen in place. Once Mallory had sufficient oxygen, he managed to flip Charlie onto the bed next to him, now becoming the one on top.

“What the hell was that?!” Mallory yelled as his fists sloppily rained down onto Charlie’s face. Charlie attempted to get words out, but only managed a few pained squeaks. Mallory got off of him after a few more seconds and rushed out of the room.

Charlie curled up into the fetal position with his hands covering his face. He was shaking violently now, and he couldn’t control his staggered breaths. Mallory soon returned to the room, and before Charlie could react, he felt a needle in his neck.

#easton’s unnamed story #oc #whump oc #whump #whump story #whumpee #whumper

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justasimplesinner · 3 years

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Christmas fluff with Jonathan Crane

this is a bday present to the one and only @froppydeloppy i hope you’ll enjoy it darl! i tried to make it extra fluffy, but - because i’m a dumb bitch - there’s a sprinkle of angst. with happy ending tho!

***

Stressful - that's the only way to describe what was going on right now. Everyone was in a rush, some buying late Christmas presents, some just panicking over every little imperfection in their perfect little world. Streets were filled with busy crowds, bright lights and loud noise consisting of but not limited to shouts, cars honking and children screaming bloody murder in the best of ways. It could get overwhelming sometimes, this whole Christmas frenzy going on all around the world. But in your home? It was calm.

Supper was almost ready, batches of cookies laid out on the coffee table along with a bottle of wine, and the smell of hot cocoa filled the room. The fireplace was burning, some of the decorations you put days back shining with the firelight and dim but colorful light coming from your little tree. It wasn't big or fancy or bright-colored enough to cause an epilepsy attack, but it was lovely and perfect as it was - especially since you decorated it with him.

Jonathan was currently sitting in the armchair he claimed as his, long legs stretched out, book in hand, in an oversized turtleneck sweater and you'd lie if you said it wasn't the best view. The way light reflected in his glasses and the gentle glow that got caught on his sharp cheekbones, boney, slender fingers unconsciously caressing the edge of his thick volume - that habit more often than not led to hundreds of little papercuts littering his skin, a quiet, muttered "shit!" as he put the "wounded" digit up to his lips to ease the pain.

It was the little things about him that always brought a smile to your face - or any things, really, as long as they were about him.

– How much longer do you plan to stare at me? – he drawled from his spot, a small smile clear in his voice, as your own grin got that little bit wider at hearing his nasally voice.

– As long as it takes for you to finally pay attention to me. – you mused playfully, resting your chin on your hand. You never ceased your staring. He never got back to his book.

Instead, he carefully placed an old receipt he used as a bookmark between the pages, and with utter gentleness closed it shut then put it down on the pile next to him. Half of his lanky body leaned out of the armchair as he copied your position and looked you in the eyes with that smirk you'd never get enough of.

– Your dinner is going to burn. – amusement laced his words as his eyes bore into your own. His gaze was always intense, always calculating but never cold - not to you, at least. You liked to believe that the way he looked at you was with love, but with him, it was hard to tell. It has, after all, been almost three years and he still had trouble saying it out loud.

But you knew he cared, and he cared deeply. Deep enough to sit here with you, today, and let you pamper him for once. Deep enough to be comfortable with you, let himself relax and stop being paranoid for once in his life.

– It's your dinner too, jackass. You promised you'd stay for once. – you chuckled, scrunching your nose up at him before kissing the bridge of his own and getting up. You really had to check on that dinner - it'd be a shame if all the hard work you put in would be wasted just because you couldn't stop staring at the wanted criminal you were currently harboring in your house.

– And I intend to keep it. – it was unlike him to spill out reassurances so quickly and so honestly, but that didn't mean you didn't appreciate it. You were surprisied, yes, but ever grateful as well. The Christmas spirit was getting even to the biggest of grumps, it seemed.

– You better. I can't eat everything by myself and I made pumpkin pie for you. – you threatened jokingly, heading to the kitchen and it was a damn shame you didn't see the lovestruck smile on his face. But he only smiled like that when you weren't looking, after all.

Taking out the meat from the oven, and putting a finishing touch on everything went smoothly and it didn't take long before every dish was placed on the table, cutlery got laid out and glasses were full of wine. You were just taking off your apron in the kitchen, about to join Jonathan and finally eat the goodies you made but his lanky frame blocking the doorway stopped you in your tracks.

God, he was so tall he had to lean down to even get through the door.

– What is it? – you asked, coming up to him, but he never stepped back from you like he usually did, didn't even budge and his eyes never strayed away from your own, that piercing gaze looking right into your soul. And once he deemed you near enough, you watched him straighten and if you weren't so close his forhead would be obscured by the doorframe.

It reminded you of the way he used to hit his head on the top of it the first few times he came over to your place. And it was only when you chuckled and slightly leaned your head back that you understood what he seemingly wanted to tell you without using a single word.

There was a mistletoe just above you. Funny, you didn't remember putting it there.

– You absolute sap. – you laughed, shaking your head as his smirk only grew in size and he leaned down, a little awkwardly since he insisted on keeping his hands in his pockets, to just a little above your eye level.

– Maybe I'm a hopeless romantic at heart, hm? – you almost snorted right in his face. Both of you knew he hated Romanticism and the mere idea of romance all together. Of course, what you two had definitely wasn't platonic, and you did love each other in a romantic sense (you hoped), but that didn't change anything.

– More like romantically hopeless. – and with that, you cupped his cheeks and pressed your lips to his, feeling him sigh into the kiss. Your noses bumped and he almost lost his balance but it was perfect nonetheless.

Too bad you didn't have time for that since the food was getting cold.

The dinner was pleasant. It didn't really feel special at all, but that's what made it even more perfect - Jonathan wasn't here, with you, because it was the right thing to do (pha! as if he cared about what was right or wrong), but because he wanted to be here. He wasn't here to celebrate anything, he was here for you and for you only and that in itself was the best Christmas gift you could ever wish for.

And speaking of gifts...

– This is way too big for me to be comfortable with it. – he complained, taking the carefully wrapped box from under the tree. You insisted on having the presents there - it was a tradition, one Jon probably never practiced, not even as a child. It might not bring him as much joy as it would to a six year old, but you wanted this to be the best Christmas in his miserable life.

– Oh, it's just the packaging. Stop complaining. – you laughed, rolling your eyes and sitting down on the floor next to where he was kneeling. After giving you a funny look, he sat down on the carpet as well, partly crossing his long legs so as not to kick the tree over.

That'd be a story to tell, for sure.

– If this is over twenty dollars, I'm not accepting it. – he warned, sending you a serious look but you only shook your head, pushing at his arm.

– Just open it, dammit! – you wanted to get this over with, because - despite everything - you were still nervous he wouldn't like it. Maybe it was too obvious? Maybe he already had it? Maybe he'd think you half-assed the whole thing? Good lord, it was stressful. Especially watching those spindly, skilled fingers carefully unwrapping the thing, almost teasingly slow. You didn't put it besides him to make you more nervous on purpose.

After all, you were scared. Scared of what he'd think. And that's what usually gets him going.

You almost swore his hands shook when he was lifting the lid of the box, as if he was expecting something to blow up in his face. Ah yes, the paranoia...

– A scarf. – he muttered and boy, wasn't it a careful observation on his part! You laughed quietly, heartbeat slowing a little. Of course it was a scarf, what else? But it was only a part of the present, too. He was in for a surprise.

– Well, I got tired from hearing your larynx screaming for help because you walk around with your neck bare. – you said with a wide smile, and it'd be a lie to say you weren't delighted to see him beaming back at you – C'mon, take it out! – you rushed and it was then that he froze as he tried to take it out and felt something... hard beneath it.

– For God's sake, there's more? I only got you one thing! – he whined loudly like a baby, and you just huffed, snuggling up closer to him to carefully watch his reaction as he got to the second part of your present.

– What can I say? I like to spoil. – you mused with a smile, cheek pressed to his shoulder but that only made him get more defensive.

– I'm not some child to be spoiled.

Well, from your point, he certainly looked like one.

With a nudge, you encouraged him to lift up the scarf and see what's under. And good lord when he ceased all movement along with his breathing, you had to admit you were kind of worried. Did you fuck up? Or did you take his breath away?

You watched his hands reluctantly reach inside the box and pull out that old Edgar Allan Poe tomme you had to hunt on the market. It was awfully hard to get your hands on the vintage collector's version with practically all his poems inside, and manage to restore it so it wasn't falling apart, but it was all worth that look of wonder on his face just now.

You didn't fuck up. You definitely didn't fuck up.

– It's... hardcover. – was all he muttered and you almost burst out laughing. Christ, that man was an absolute dork. Your dork.

– And collector's edition, too! I thought you'd like to have this on your shelf. – you gloated a little, puffing your chest with pride but were immediately stopped in your tracks when his lips suddenly landed on yours, pushing with force as his fingers clutched the book in his hands.

Oh yes, that scavenging hunt was definitely worth it.

You cupped his cheeks gently, thumbs trailing over those razor sharp cheekbones as you kissed back and at the same time it felt like eternity and like it was way too soon when he pulled back from you.

– Thank you. – you felt that mutter against your lips before he leaned back all the way, eyes dragging back to his gift. Why were you even doubting yourself? You knew he'd love it. Once you took the time to get to know him properly, it wasn't that hard to know what he enjoyed most and what least.

– I'm afraid I can't live up to that with what I got you. – ah, there he went with all his self-doubt as if you didn't cherish everything he ever gave you.

– We'll see. – you said with a smirk, jumping under the tree to pull out your own gift. You weren't nearly as gentle while opening it - it wasn't often that Jonathan got you gifts and you were excited beyond imagination to see what he came up with.

You really didn't want to admit it, but he was kind of right. You didn't know why you felt almost... disappointed when you opened the little box. But it was fine. It was practical and very well thought-out. Very useful during any emergencies.

It just... Well, he gave you the same thing almost every month and you thought... God, you were ungrateful, weren't you?

– For the latest batch? – you asked for confirmation, holding the syringe with that almost neon-y, bright blue liquid in your hands, not once tearing your eyes away from it. He cared for you and that's why he got you this - because no matter how much he enjoyed causing terror, he never wanted to harm you and wanted you to be safe.

So it was perfect. Yes, absolutely perfect.

– Mhmm. – he purred in confirmation and if you weren't so absorbed in your own thoughts, maybe you'd hear him shuffle carefully to sit behind you. And maybe he wouldn't have to press his lips to the back of your head for you to notice his hand that was holding something right in front of your face.

– There's also this, but that's just an addition. – he said nonchalantly and then your eyes landed on the necklace tangled around his fingers, pure silver crow skull dangling in front of your nose with the smallest, but most shining of gems ingrained in the middle of it's little forhead.

– Oh-... my god?! It's beautiful, Jonathan! – you part squealed, part laughed in utter joy as your hands came up to the pendant, gentle as ever as you cupped it in your palm and he let the chain slowly slither into your other hand.

And he must've picked up on that well-hidden relief, too, since he laughed in your ear, nuzzling your temple as he said:

– I know I'm a bastard, but not that much of a bastard.

With that stunt he pulled, you weren't entirely sure.

– Thank you. – you breathed, discarding that comment aside and leaning back into him, feeling his heartbeat pounding. Oh, so he was nervous too, huh? Served him well for tricking you like this.

– No, thank you. – he muttered, and it felt so... heavy coming from him that you had to turn your head around on his shoulder to look him in the eye. You immediately knew what he meant.

– You don't have to thank me for spending time with you. I love it, and I love you, Jon. – it was almost sad, seeing him averting his eyes right after you said that. You'd never get him used to hearing it, to knowing that there was actually someone out there that could love him like you did. It got tiring, sometimes - that constant doubt, the trust issues, and especially that paranoia of his, but it was a part of him and you loved it as much as the rest.

You just hoped some day he could accept it, too. And maybe, just maybe... say it back for once.

– I know, I know, it's just... – he decided to ramble instead, and you let him – I've never really had a "nice" christmas. Of course, there was this one time Harley insisted on a "rogues get-together", and I even partly enjoyed that evening, not counting in Nigma's blabbering and Joker's... being himself, but... it's different with you. I don't mean that in the bad way. It's... I like it.

It's not like you cried a little and like he clung onto you for dear life while he was saying it all. It's not like you both stayed tangled like that on the floor long enough for your asses to hurt. No, of course not.

You were almost asleep, lulled by his slow, steady breathing and his heartbeat under your ear as his arm pressed you to his side while he read his newest volume, when he pressed his face into your hair, nuzzling a little.

– I love you too, you know that, right?

Well... now you did.

Last thing you remembered was hearing his quiet chuckle when you squeezed him tight like a vice before falling asleep in his arms.

#jonathan crane #scarecrow #the scarecrow #my writing #fluff #tooth-rotting fluff #and a sprinkle of angst #because i'm Like That #this fic is from your perspective so some things may seem different to you than they actually are #such as some of jon's behaviours and actions #so ya know #you might think he's scared of a prank when in reality he's actually on the brink of crying because oh my god you made him a christmas gift #fuck i need to stop rambling in the tags #HAPPY BDAY FROPPY I LOVE YOU TO DEATH

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be11atrixthestrange · 3 years

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The Loft (Chapter 1)

After a bad break-up, Hermione Granger moves into a messy and dysfunctional loft with four single men. What starts as a temporary home until she gets back on her feet becomes so much more, as she learns there's a lot of life - and love - that happens at rock-bottom.

Inspired by the TV Series ‘New Girl’

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Also on A03 | FFN

More Chapters

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Chapter 1

[Hermione]

"I don't know, Harry," groans Seamus. "She'll change the dynamic too much, don't you think?"

"Who's to say that's a bad thing?" Harry glares at Seamus's dirty feet on the coffee table, propped up on an empty take-out container. "Honestly, we could probably use some more feminine energy in here."

"You're just doing this because Ginny asked." Seamus lets out a laugh, and a smug smirk spreads across his face. "You know, this little favor isn't going to make her sleep with you."

Harry scowls right back. "I'm not trying to get her to sleep with me," he argues, although his reddening cheeks suggest otherwise. "I'm just trying to do the right thing here. Hermione needs a place to live, and we need another roommate anyway."

"So the fact that she's friends with Ginny has nothing to do with it? You're not using Hermione to lure Ginny over here more often?"

Harry's silence is a sufficient answer for Seamus, who scoffs and leans back on the sofa with his hands behind his head.

Hermione resists the urge to clarify that she's not exactly Ginny's friend per se. To Ginny, Hermione's just the broken-hearted mess of a girl she found crying in the office bathroom yesterday, and to Hermione, Ginny's nothing but a well-timed acquaintance who happened to know of a loft with an empty room.

Instead, she clears her throat to remind them of her presence, as they seem to have forgotten. "Boys, I'm sitting right here. If you don't want me to move in, that's fine. Just tell me, and I'll look elsewhere."

"For what it's worth, I like her," chirps Neville quietly from the other end of the sofa. "She seems nice."

Hermione silently thanks Neville with a smile, but apparently for the other two, 'nice' isn't what they're looking for.

"That's the problem, Neville. She's 'nice'," says Seamus, emphasizing the phrase with air quotes. "I want to feel comfortable in my own space, and sometimes, seeing something 'nice' in the morning makes things uncomfortable." He motions to his pants to emphasize his point.

Gross. Is this guy serious? Hermione looks at Seamus in disgust and crosses her arms in front of her chest, hoping to hide anything 'nice' from view. She can already tell that this is not a good fit.

"Dude, really?" chastises Harry. "She's right here, man."

"Seriously," tuts Neville. "Jar."

"Yeah, that's fair," shrugs Seamus.

Hermione watches in shock and horror as Seamus digs into his pocket for a dollar bill before shoving it into a glass container labeled 'douchebag jar'.

No, this definitely isn't going to work out.

"I'll just go," she says, rising to her feet. "Clearly, this isn't a good idea."

The boys erupt in whispers as soon as she turns her back, and a tidal wave of self-consciousness crashes down on her. She scurries toward the door, wishing she had worn something other than her Lululemons. Something less 'nice'.

She'll find another place to live. She has to.

But as she approaches the door, her eyes sting with tears. She's banking on this working out — if she doesn't find a place today her only option is a hotel she can't afford, or another night in her old apartment with Cormac, and she's not sure she can stand to sleep in the same bed as him, or on the same couch she caught him naked with — what was her name? Romilda Something? It doesn't matter. Cormac probably never asked for her last name, and Hermione doesn't need to know either.

It might have to be a hotel, and she can almost hear her wallet whimper at the thought. Her first priority is getting out of this loft before she starts crying.

"Hermione, wait!"

Her hand freezes on the doorknob at Harry's abrupt call.

"What?" she snaps back without turning around. It's too late to hold back her tears — the floodgates have officially opened, and it's not a good time for pleasantries.

"We've just discussed, and we want you to live here," says Seamus, his friendly tone forced.

"Yeah," adds Neville. "We're really looking forward to it."

"So what do you say?" asks Harry.

Her stomach clenches, and for the first time she notices the smell of the apartment — it reeks of forgotten fast food and gym laundry. There's a lumpy, brownish stain in the corner by the door, and Hermione doesn't even want to know what it's from, and right above the stain, a shelf proudly displays a water bong in the shape of a naked woman. An empty picture frame hangs crookedly on the wall, a mediocre effort to hide the sloppy drawing of male genitalia etched in permanent marker. There's a pile of dirty dishes in the sink, and the light fixture above her head is held together with duct tape...

Does she want to live here? No.

But is she absolutely, one-hundred-percent desperate? Yes.

On the bright side, Cormac was a total slob before they lived together, and she taught him well. She can teach these boys too, she's sure of it.

She turns around and wipes her eyes, now leaking with tears. "Thank you," she says, her voice breaking into a muffled sob. "I'll go get my stuff in my car."

"Are you crying?" asks Seamus, his eyes wide. "You… you can't do that here. Harry, we made a mistake."

"Seamus, she's welcome to express her feelings if she needs to," says Neville.

"Dude! What are you talking about? You cry all the time!" says Harry, addressing Seamus. "Remember when you fell asleep and missed the Taylor Swift conc—"

"I was crying about something else entirely!" Seamus shouts. "My… my Nana died, okay?"

"Again?" Neville and Harry burst into laughter.

Hermione uses their moment of distraction to escape out the door. Once in the hallway, her tears fall freely, and she wipes them away with her sleeve. She approaches the elevator to begin the two to three trips — tops — to gather the minimal belongings she could stuff into her tiny Prius. She'll have to face Cormac if she wants the rest of her stuff back, but that's a worry for another day.

Hermione wakes up with a neckache, likely a result of the lumpy pile of blankets serving as her temporary bed. There are no blinds or curtains on her window yet, and the morning sun sends a direct beam of light into her eyes. She groggily props herself up on her elbows and glances around at the room — her room. It's quite small and the walls are a bit bland, so there's nothing special about it, really. But it does have one thing going for it — she doesn't have to share it with a lying, cheating ex-boyfriend. Thank goodness for that.

Rubbing her throbbing neck, she climbs to her feet. Her dresser is still at Cormac's, so last night she left all of her clothes in a pile on the floor of the closet. She rummages through it and fishes out her robe — something to provide enough coverage to feel comfortable traipsing through the loft to the bathroom that she now shares with three boys. At the thought of running into them, she checks her reflection in the rectangular mirror stuck to the inside of the closet door and runs her fingers through her bushy brown hair — a feeble attempt to defrizz it. She tugs at her robe, which is shorter than she remembers. Not that it matters, she reminds herself. It's not like she's attracted to any of her roommates. There's no reason to look good.

Out of nowhere, the door to her bedroom swings open and slams into the wall with a bang. Hermione jumps and whips around to face her intruder, and her mouth drops open when she meets the equally surprised gaze of a tall, lanky, shirtless, redhead.

"WHAT THE FUCK?" he yells, taking a step back. He glances around the room in confusion, looking like he walked into the wrong apartment.

Hermione's ears tingle with embarrassment and she tightens her robe. "Who are you?" she asks, her voice shaky.

The redhead stares back dumbfounded. "Who am I? Who are you, and why are you in my gym?"

"Your gym? What are you talking about? This is my room!" Only now does Hermione realize he's carrying a set of dumbbells at his side. Her eyes scan for the number on the weights, a strange habit leftover from Cormac's constant bragging about how much he can lift.

Before she can catch the number, her eyes are drawn to something else — his gym shorts are quite tight and revealing, and his torso is sleek and muscular; his abs remind her of the crisp, defined cubes of an ice tray on a blistering summer day.

The heat spreads from her ears to her cheeks.

"Ron! You're back from your trip early," pants Harry as he rushes into her room to join the pair.

The redhead — Ron — turns to Harry and scowls. "Harry James Potter. Who the hell is she?" he asks, nodding in Hermione's direction.

"Ron, this is Hermione Granger," says Harry. "Our new roommate."

Hermione watches the two boys stare at each other and communicate in a language she's not privy to; their expressions flash with silent conversation. She takes a step back to observe and realizes from Ron's unwavering scowl that he was blindsided by Hermione.

"What happened to my home gym?" he whines, avoiding Hermione's gaze. His arms hang by his sides, the dumbbells dragging his shoulders into a slump, which gives him the appearance of a disgruntled toddler on the verge of a tantrum.

Harry clears his throat and stands up straighter. "We've decided that you can work out in your own bedroom from now on," he states diplomatically.

"That's not fair," says Ron, puffing his chest in an apparent challenge to Harry.

Harry shrugs. "Well, as you know, the rent is going up, so we all decided not to let you have two rooms to yourself. And Hermione's cool, your sister vouched for her."

Ahhh, Ginny's brother. Hermione finally connects the familiarity of Ron's flaming red hair.

"But you didn't even ask me!" complains Ron.

"Sorry bro. It was a practical choice."

Hermione shifts in discomfort at Harry's word choice — practical is a descriptor she's heard too many times before, and the sting of her breakup conversation with Cormac comes flooding right back. Romilda whatever-her-last-name is exciting and spontaneous, while Hermione's sensible and safe. As if transported back to her old apartment, she can hear Cormac crooning, 'Don't get me wrong baby, you're a great girl, but I just want to have fun right now...'

Harry must catch the flash of anger on her face and mistake himself as the culprit. "Hermione, I'm so sorry that this pale, speckly moron was your wake-up alarm."

"It's fine," she says, her voice shriller than intended. "It's nice to meet you, Ron. Now would you mind letting me get dressed?"

Ron turns toward her, and, for a moment, Hermione swears his eyes sweep over her body, a rosy tint swarming his cheeks before his expression hardens. She's becoming more appreciative of her too-short robe.

"Well, welcome to the loft, Hermione," says Ron stiffly before turning back to Harry, "If you need me, I'll be working out in my bedroom." Ron brushes past, bumping Harry's shoulder on his way out the door.

Without permission, Hermione's wild imagination conjures up the image of Ron doing just that. His too-tight gym shorts stretch with each squat, revealing his freckled, toned thighs. The same ray of sunlight that woke Hermione illuminates his porcelain skin which glistens with sweat, causing Hermione to crave the cool, refreshing taste of a vanilla ice cream cone…

"Why would I need you?" shouts Harry, interrupting Hermione's headspin.

"I don't know, Harry," comes Ron's muffled voice from the hall. "But if you do, you know where to find me."

She narrows her eyes and clears her throat, catching Harry's attention. "You didn't tell me there were four of you here."

Harry stares intently at the floor. "Right. Technically four is the maximum, so if anyone asks, you're just visiting."

Hermione's jaw drops and her heart starts pounding. She's a rule-follower, she always has been, and the thought of living where she's not supposed to makes her uneasy. "Harry — are you telling me that I'm living here illegally?!"

"It's not illegal," he says, his emphasis on the word concerning, "It's just frowned upon."

"Frowned upon by whom?"

"Our landlord." He waves his hand dismissively, "but he'll never find out."

"Harry—"

"I'll let you get dressed," he interrupts, slipping out of her room and closing the door behind him with a thud.

Hermione groans and turns back to the mirror, suddenly interested in her appearance again. She can see her anxiety etched into her face, the line between her eyebrows a prominent reminder of all that's gone wrong in the last few days.

If anyone asks what she's doing here, she's supposed to lie and say she's visiting. That shouldn't be an issue. She can lie, right?

"You're just visiting," she tells her reflection, and she likes the sound of it. The insinuation that this chaos is only temporary eases her anxiety.

"You're going to love it here," she practices again, pushing away the contradicting image of the trash-filled kitchen, pornographic water bong, and questionable stains on the floor.

"You're definitely not attracted to your roommate," she adds, knowing that somewhere in the loft, the shirtless redhead is working up a sweat, his breath growing heavy, as he throws around dumbbells by his probably-still-unmade bed.

It'll be fine — she can be pretty convincing, after all.

#muggle AU #be11a_loft #Ron Weasley #Hermione Granger #Ron and Hermione #ron x hermione #ronweasley #hermionegranger #ROMIONE #romione fanfic #romione fanfiction #Romione angst #hpromione #romionecom

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just-my-fandom · 4 years

Text

Chapter 1: MADMAX

Summary; As the town preps for Halloween, a high-scoring rival shakes things up at the arcade, and a skeptical Hopper inspects a field of rotting pumpkins.

There will be a tag list, comment below if you would like to be added :)

Story list; Chapter 1, Chapter 2

“Son of a bitch! Son of a bitch!”

The rushed footsteps of Dustin Henderson grows louder as he stumbles into the living room of his three bedroom home. The news plays faintly on the television, Dustin unable to hear the alert coming from the newsman,

“A police chase rocked downtown Pittsburgh earlier this evening...”

Dustin moves to the couch his twin sister, Y/N, sat on, pulling the cushion opposite of her before lifting his hand, revealing to Y/N a shiny penny hidden in the couches dept, “Another stupid penny!”

Dustins hand launches to the side to chuck the penny, the small coin flying past you and landed next to the love seat Claudia Henderson sat on with the family cat, Mews, “Dusty!” Your mother scolds, her hands running down Mews back in a gentle groom, “Watch it! You almost hit your sister.”

“Can I please check under your cushions?” Dustins eyes flick to you, sipping hot chocolate from one of your mothers mugs, then to Claudia,

“Dusty.” Claudia warns, Dustin whining deep in his throat, “Mom, please? It’s an emergency!”

Claudia makes a noise of annoyance, lifting Mews from her lap before raising to her feet, allowing Dustin to launch for her chair and begin to pull the cushions off, “Whats the emergency?” You shift in your seat before scooting down the couch, watching Dustin as he pulls up her cushion, revealing two quarters in his hand,

“The Party is meeting up at the arcade, I gotta find as much quarters as I can.” Dustin mumbles, sticking his arm into the back of the couch, pulling his hand up and groaning at the four pennies in his hand.

“Ooh, can I come?” You ask, moving to set you mug on the counter and watch as Dustin pathetically toss the cushions back into their spot, “I have four dollars in quarters.”

“Fine.” Dustin heaves, waving for you to hurry and grab your bag of coins, “Lucas, you copy? I’ve got four quarters, Y/N’s bringing four dollars worth. What’s your haul?”

“Take your puny haul and multiply it by five.” Lucas answers into Dustins talkie, and you snort as you stand in the doorway of Dustins room, “And are you really bringing your sister?”

“I can keep my sixteen quarters.” You call back, Dustins eyes widening before he shakes his head. “Yes, I’m bringing Y/N, suck it up.”

“Whatever. I’m going to shower, like a real man. Now you call Mike. Over and out.”

Dustin sighs, flicking the channel to his talkie and handing you his four coins to drop in your mini bag. “Mike, do you copy? Mike, do you copy?”

“Yeah.” Mike answers, almost instantly, “Yeah I copy.”

“What are you doing on this channel?”

“Nothing.” Mike dodges, and you roll your eyes.

“Well Lucas and I have six bucks, plus Y/Ns four bucks total. What’s your haul?”

“Shit.” You hear Mike grumble, and Dustin throws a hand up, weakly, “Shit! I don’t know yet.”

“What do you mean you don’t know yet?” You snap, Mike scoffing over the talkie, “Just hold on. Call Will.”

As you and Dustin skid to a stop on your bikes, you lift your hand to wave to Joyce and Will Byers in their car. You watch as Joyce stops Will from getting out, saying only a couple of words before she is waving back, pulling off.

“Oh Jesus! I’m in chartered territory here, guys.” Dustins game is slow to start, the group of five friends all huddled around the arcade game, Dragons Lair,

“Down!” You and Mike shout in unison, startling Dustin to quickly move the joystick, “Down! Down!”

“I’m going!” Dustin rushes, and you grimace when the knight on the game screen is burned alive by the dragon, Dustin raising his fist to his mouth to bite down on the skin,

“You’re just not nimble enough, you’ll get there one day.” Lucas grins, elbowing you in between him and your brother, “But until then. Princess Daphne is still mine.”

“As if,” You instantly scoff, squinting your eyes, “We all know I claimed her, since the beginning.”

“You could literally like any girl here in Hawkins, and you choose the imaginary one?” Mike questions, and you shrug, grinning, “I have my types. Besides, I’m definitely getting more than any of you fools.”

“Whatever, gross.” Dustin shakes his head. “I’m still tops on Centipede and Dig Dug.”

“You sure about that?” Your head snaps over at Keiths question, the arcade worker holding a bag of chips, stuffing a handful of the powdery goodness into his mouth, so you cringed and lean on the games surface.

“Sure about what?” Dustin asks, hesitantly, and Keith raises his hand to stuff another chip into his mouth, crunching down loudly on the food. Realization washes over Dustins face, and you step back to let him dart down the isle of games, your hand snatching your now half empty bag before you follow the group of boys, to your brothers first favorite game.

“No!” Dustin cries out when he reaches the screen, your eyes scanning this list of scores and raise to the top, glancing at the name MADMAX shining beside the score 751300, “Who is Mad Max?” Dustin demands.

“Better than you.” Dustin shoves his middle finger in Keiths face. “Is it you?” Will asks, and Keith scoffs. “You know I despise Dig Dug.”

“Then who is it?” You push, eyes narrowed. “You want information, then I need something in return.” Keith raises his eyebrows, and the five kids look between one another, before their gaze finally settles on Mike, whose eyes widen when the thought settles.

“No, no, no. No way. You’re not getting a date with her.”

“Mike, come on.” Lucas pleas, “Just get him the date.”

“I’m not prostituting my sister!” Mike snarls, “That’s like setting Y/N up with Troy!”

“Gross.” You mumble, Mike raising his hand to you in an ‘exactly my point’ motion.

“But it’s for a good cause.” Lucas states, and Dustin waves his hands. “No. Don’t get him the date. Know what? He’s gonna spread his nasty-ass rash to your whole family.”

“Ache isn’t a rash and it isn’t contagious, you prepubescent wastoid.”

“Oh, I’m a wastoid? She wouldn’t go on a date with you.” Dustin scoffs, your eyes catching Will moving towards the entrance of the arcade, your brows furrowing before you step after him, holding the door open for the young boy.

“Will?” Your call startles him, turning to face you. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I just...needed some air.”

“Come on.” You stick a hand out to your elementary school friend, smiling when he relaxes upon taking said hand, “It’s your turn on Dig Dug. We gotta win our high score back.”

. . .

“Meet the human brain. I know. I know, it doesn’t look like much. A little gross even,”

“It looks like I chewed up a whole pack of gum,” You cut in, sitting in the chair behind Dustin, “Then spit it out on your desk, and hello! Surprise!”

“Very funny, Henderson.” Clarke presses his lips together, and you grin when Dustin looks back at you. “But consider this. There are a hundred billion cells inside of this miracle of evolution. All working as one. No, no, I did not misspeak. I did not stutter. A hundred billion.”

The classroom door suddenly opens, your head lifting off your hand when a girl with red hair steps up next to Clarke, your lips parting in awe. “Ah, this must be our new student. Class, please welcome, all the way from sunny California, the latest passenger to join us on our curiosity voyage, Maxine.”

“It’s Max,” She corrects, and looks over at Clarkes furrowed brows, “Nobody calls me Maxine. It’s Max.”

You gasp, dragging the four boys in front and to your left to look at you, “Mad Max.”

“Well, all aboard, Max.”

You curiously watch as Max moves to the back of the classroom, your eyes watching her drop into the single empty desk, her arms crossing before her eyes raise to meet yours. You lift a hand and wave, Max scoffing and rolling her eyes before shifting them to the front of the room.

. . .

“There’s no way that’s Mad Max.”

You lean against the fence outside of Hawkins Middle, eyes watching the blazing red head skateboard down the walkway,

“Yeah. Girls don’t play video games.” Dustin mumbles, and you face him, eyebrows raised, “What?”

“That’s dog shit, Dustin.” You glance back at Max, who now jumped off her board and held it under her arm. “If I can play video games, so can she.”

“Uh oh,” Lucas bumps his hip with yours, so you looked at him, “Someone’s got a crush.”

“Do not.” You snip, “I never even actually met her.”

“You’re not the only one.” Dustin quietly states, and your eyes snap to him a second time.

“Seriously?” You question. “Back off. She’s mine.”

“But you just said-,” “I know what I said.”

“Twins fighting for the same girl?” Mike grins at Lucas, “This is gonna be good.”

“Why can’t you just be straight?” Dustin tests, and you narrow your eyes, testingly, “Then we’d definitely be twins.”

“She threw a piece of paper in the bins,” You dart away from the fence, skidding to a stop in front of the trash can so the four boys all shielded you, then turned to you when you unravel the paper,

“Stop spying on me creeps.”

“We’re not spying.” You scoff, and Mike and Lucas look at each other, “Right?”

“Well shit.” Dustin crosses his arms and sighs, and looks over when the principle steps up, alerting Will that Joyce has came to pick him up.

. . .

“Still no sign?”

You sigh and lean against the car you, Lucas and Dustin were hiding behind, extending your legs to stretch out the aching tension in them from squatting for so long. “Jack shit.”

“Damn it, mom’s going to murder us.” You look over at Dustin, who checks his watch and grimaces. “Then go home.” Lucas states, hands holding binoculars over his eyes. “I’ll radio if she comes.”

“Oh, yeah, nice try.” Dustin snips, “You just want us out of here so you can make your move.”

“Oh, cause youre such a threat.” Lucas snaps back, and you squint your eyes. “Are you serious? You too, Lucas?”

“How do you even know if she likes girls, anyways, Y/N? Oh, right, you dont.”

“So?” You huff, and stand up, rolling your shoulders. Your eyes look over, suddenly grabbing Dustins shoulder before pointing to Lucas’ binoculars. “Ten o’clock. Ten o’clock.”

Up ahead, you can see Billy Hargroves car pulling up to the arcade, Max hoping out of the passenger seat, but turns to yell at her step brother, throwing him the bird when he speeds off.

You shove Dustins shoulder and round the car, jogging up to the door of the arcade where Max had disappeared.

“What do we do now?” It’s late at night, you stroll on your bike between Dustin and Lucas, only pedaling occasionally as to not stop completely. “We stick to the plan.”

“Mike’s not gonna like it.” Lucas protests, and Dustin rolls his eyes, swiftly. “Last time I checked, our party is not a dictatorship. It’s a democracy.”

“What if Max says no?” You frown.

“How can Max say no to these?” Dustin purrs, and you stick out a hand, shoving the side of his head so he swerved on his bike. “I swear to God, Dustin.”

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” Lucas sighs, turning his bike onto his road so you and Dustin were left alone. You skid your bike to a stop under the carport, propping the stand down so your bike would stand on its own.

A chirping sound causes you to turn around to face Dustin, your twin brother halting in place, telling you that he heard the noise, too. “Mews?” You call, Dustin turning to the darkness of your yard, then after a moments pause, he turns back to the house, waving off the sudden noise.

You sigh and follow him into the house, pulling off your jacket and dropping it on the coat rack.

#dustin henderson x reader #dustin henderson #dustin henderson one shot #dustin henderson imagine #max mayfield #max mayfield x reader #max mayfield one shot #max mayfield imagine #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things one shot #stranger things imagine #madmax #mad max #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington

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poisxnyouth · 4 years

Text

bad influence dave part 5 (d.d)

A/N: I KNOW 3.8K ISN’T SHORT BUT I FEEL LIKE I’VE CONDITIONED MYSELF TO THINK IT IS. ANYWAY. ENJOY. LMK WHAT YOU THINK. TALK TO ME WHILE YOU READ. I LOVE YOU. LET’S CHAT. -HAILEY

Word Count: 3.85K

“David,” you whine his name, bucking up into his touch and grabbing at his hair, “We have thirty minutes before we have to go.”

“Hush,” he says gruffly, fingers twisting inside of you and grunting slightly, “You’re going to cum before we leave this house.”

Neither of you are even dressed, still in pajamas, and yet: you woke up late, kissed each other good morning, and you barely had a second to think before he was sliding his hand down the front of your sweatpants.

This behavior of his seems to be routine on weekends, now. You stay over at his place Friday to Sunday; every Sunday, he attempts to make you cum before having to leave for church. It’s an increasingly frustrating task for him — he knows he can, and he knows he knows how to do so, but you’re not complying with him. It’s not your fault, either:

Sexual repression is fucking difficult to fix, apparently, and David wants to kill himself. He cannot count on both of his hands the amount of times he’s been between your legs and had to tell you, “Stop putting pressure on yourself to be able to cum. You do that, and you’ll never cum. Knock it off and let me do this. I know how to. Shut up.” It seems as though his words are finally beginning to click this time, and he can tell by the way you’re tugging so tightly at the roots of his hair as he works his mouth and fingers against you.

After pushing his sexual ego to the side, David got the balls to buy you a bullet vibrator – an amazing decision he couldn't regret even if he wanted to. Now, he pulls away from you before you whine again, tugging him closer.

He continues to pull away, harshly pushing your hands off, “Stop it. Let me do this.”

David grabs the vibrator and flips it on, settling back between your legs and starting his work again: vibe on your clit, fingers inside, and mouth on you. As far as he’s concerned, for any other woman, this is the Holy Trinity of what it takes to orgasm, and he feels you getting so close beneath him that his heart begins racing in excitement. He watches your face twist up and you pull tighter at his hair, bucking up against him.

This is the closest he’s gotten to making you cum so far, and he wishes he was surprised when you exhale deeply and groan, gently pushing his touches away. He knew it was too good to be true.

You cover your face with your hands, wanting to cry of frustration and embarrassment as David switches off the vibe. He haphazardly (and grossly) wipes his fingers on his t-shirt, wiping at his mouth before lying back down next to you. He sighs, too, pulling you into his arms and moving to grab your chin, “Look at me, babygirl.”

“It’s okay,” David promises and presses a gentle kiss to your lips, even though he’s just as frustrated as you are, “That was the closest we’ve been. Progress, honey. Baby steps.”

“I’m so mad at myself,” you say dejectedly, rolling over to get out of bed and begin getting ready, “I feel fucking broken.”

“Noooo,” he drags out, shaking his head and tugging off his t-shirt, “Don't feel that way, my love. Patience. It’ll come! I promise. We can always try again later.”

David’s been trying so hard to remain optimistic, and he still is, but it's mentally draining, and he's spreading himself thin. He gets out of bed and lazily pulls out his Sunday best clothes: wife beater, t-shirt, dress shirt, slacks, dress shoes. At first, he had hated wearing church clothes again – as the weeks pass, though, and however unfaithful he remains, it’s his routine now.

He’s moving more drugs than he ever has now that he has the guise of salvation; so, to him, two hours every Sunday morning and Wednesday night in stuffy clothes is worth the extra ten grand a week. David’s already made fifty racks since being with you – a little over a month – and he has more money than he even knows what to do with. He never thought the Catholic church was his answer to being able to deal more.

“Babygirl, have you seen my raz – Nevermind,” David has exactly ten minutes to shave his face and pull his clothes on; he’s stood in front of his mirror in his tank top, crowded next to you as you both attempt to hurriedly get ready at the same time. From his cheeks down, he’s covered in shaving cream, quickly running the blades across his skin. He leaves the faucet on as you lean over the counter next to him, in your bra and underwear, attempting to do your makeup as quickly as you can.

“What time is it, honey?”

“Seven-oh-five,” you reply, checking your phone in the middle of your mascara, “Ten minutes.”

It’s a forty-five-minute trip into the city, and David hates waking up so early on one of his two days off – but God, is the money worth it. Church is practically a job he gets paid two and a half G’s per hour for. Call him a priest.

You brush your teeth simultaneously, his arm draped around your waist as you rest your head against his shoulder. You spit, rinse, and spit again at the same time before you’re both racing to tug on your clothes; David tucks his dress shirt into his slacks and slips his belt through the loops, quickly buckling it and flipping his collar up, reaching for his tie. He wraps it around his neck, not bothering tying it yet as you ask him to zip up the back of your dress.

He does, slipping his shoes on and tying them as you gather your belongings. God, he hates church.

David stashes the vibrator in his pocket when you’re not looking, grouping it in with his wallet, keys, lighter, and cigarettes. Somehow, you manage to make it out of the house and into his car on time – and you’re both exhausted.

He makes a mental note to himself to never do an eight ball of cocaine by himself the night before church again – his throat’s raw, and every time he speaks, it feels like he’s getting facefucked by a hundred and eighty grit sandpaper.

You did not participate in his festivities, but you had been all over him, drunk, in the bathroom of his friend's house as he cut himself a few lines on the granite countertops with his debit card. You watched him as he pulled out his wallet for the second time, precisely rolling up a hundred-dollar bill and bending over the counter, shamelessly snorting a line at a time. Half-way through, he stopped, tipping his head back and rubbing at his nose, sniffling and groaning quietly.

Someone had attempted to come through the door without knocking, and David quickly shut it on them, locking the door, “Go the fuck awaaaay, dude.”

Handle of his pistol peeking out of the back of his shorts, he bent over again, finishing the rest of his lines and running his fingers through the numbies. David rubbed the excess dust into his gums, wiping the dampness on his fingertips on his shirt aimlessly.

You drunkenly hung off of him, arms wrapped around his shoulders and kissing at his neck as he tipped his head backwards again, sniffling and wiping at his nose. His fingers reached for the baggy, hundred-dollar bill, and his debit card, slipping the items back into his wallet before tugging you closer and kissing you sloppily.

Of course, David doesn’t regret it – he regrets very little, after all – but he does feel like a hot, steaming pile of garbage, and he knows you must be hungover. He wants nothing more than a cigarette and a blunt, but God forbid-

“Hey, are we dealing today?” You snap him out of his own head as he drives, sunglasses over his too-sensitive eyes – a result of the liquor he also put in his body the night before.

“Um, yeah,” he nods, one hand on the wheel at six o’clock and the other laced with yours. “I’m moving two ounces of coke upstate today. You’re just tagging along. Fuck, everything in my body hurts. I need coffee or something. Do we have time?”

“I think so?” you reply, digging through his center console for an aspirin, a Tylenol, a Motrin, anything to ease the headache that the sunlight’s presence is making a million times worse. “The traffic is worse than usual, so maybe we shouldn't.”

David’s mouth and fingers are itching for a cigarette, but he knows the stench is immediately recognizable – he untangles your fingers as he gets stopped at a light, leaning over you into the passenger side and opening his dash. He rifles through it quickly, placing the spare Glock in your lap as he feels you rub at his back affectionately. He finds a pack of mint toothpicks – he knew he had some somewhere – an aged relic of when he attempted to quit smoking two years prior, opens the package, and places one in his mouth.

David's oral fixation momentarily relieved, he hits the gas and tells you to put the gun back. He's yet to give you a full tutorial, supplying you with sporadic explanations here and there; but you do, very carefully and very slowly, before he interrupts you.

“Jesus, baby, it's not a bomb. You know the safety is on,” he takes it from your hands, tossing it into the dash and telling you to shut it.

David chews on the toothpick until the flavor is gone, rolling it between his lips as he drives, fingers laced with yours again. You speak, entirely too hungover to be going anywhere, but wanting to appreciate him, “Thanks for never judging me with the whole orgasm thing, babe. You’re too patient.”

He tuts, squeezing your hand and hoarsely replying, “A judgmental man is a weak man, sweetheart. Gotta do what you gotta do. I’ve got you, regardless.”

You don't know what to say to that, going silent at his words and leaning over to put your head in his bicep, shutting your eyes. “Ugh, God. Can we call in sick?”

“Oh my God, can we?” he replies, mentally crossing his fingers, “Please say yes. I didn't know we could do that.”

“Oh, fuck it,” you move from his arm and reach for your phone, quickly texting your family and fibbing you and David don’t feel too good. It’s not a complete lie.

David quickly tosses out the toothpick and reaches for his cigarettes, lighting one and rolling his window down. He gets stopped at a light again after making a U-turn, subsequently rolling his sleeves up, loosening his Windsor knot, and undoing the top few buttons of his shirt, cigarette loosely between his lips.

He looks so hot, and you tell him so. He scoffs and doesn't acknowledge your compliment, smile playing at his lips as he takes a drag and untangles your fingers, free hand sliding up the inside of your thigh.

“We need to talk, sweet girl,” David says vaguely, side of his knuckles rubbing gently against your underwear, “Don’t be a stupid whore and make yourself a target later today. Do as I say and nothing else. I’ll leave it at that.”

“I always do as you say,” you reply, spreading your legs slightly, “Why wouldn't I?”

“Because,” he shrugs, index finger hooking at the hem of your underwear and tugging, “Some part of you has a death wish, babygirl. You don’t like to listen to me. Get these off.”

He tosses his cig out of the window and pulls the vibrator out of his pocket, rolling the window up and spreading your legs further apart as he continues driving. David ignores you when you ask the reasoning behind him bringing the vibe as you push the clothing down your legs, flipping the switch and placing it on you.

“David!” you exclaim, going red in the cheeks, “We’re still in public!”

“My windows are tinted,” he replies coolly, throat still scratchy, “Just let me.”

He presses it harder against your clit, before ordering you, “Hold it there for me, sweetheart.”

You listen to him and do as he says, as he previously requested, just to slip his middle finger and ring finger inside of you. There's only so much he can do as he drives; his limited mobility is a struggle, but he glances between the road and between your legs as he moves his fingers with a certain finesse you can't quite do by yourself.

“Come on, sugar,” David presses, feeling the way your fingernails are sharply digging into his biceps as you get closer, “You can do it. Do it for Daddy, baby.”

He tries his hardest for a few minutes before you make a louder noise, crying out and finally releasing, and he can't believe it – he didn't think it would actually work. He always waits until you give up on yourself, sighing heavily and nearly crying of frustration.

You push his hands away as you catch your breath, eyes looking up at the ceiling of his car as he chuckles slightly, both hands on the wheel and another toothpick between his lips, wagging slightly as he speaks, “How was that, honey?”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you curse, groaning quietly, “They’re all like that?”

“Pretty much,” he shrugs, rolling the stick between his lips, “Proud of you. Good job, babygirl.”

David has a genuine look of indifference on his face as he gets a gun pulled on him after asking for a higher sale price of the two ounces coke, cigarette between his lips. His eyes roll as he exhales the smoke carelessly down the barrel of the gun, speaking, “I carry. My girl carries. Don’t try it. You’re outnumbered. You’re not a big boy yet, man. It’s okay. Just give me the extra cash.”

“I won't shoot you if you don’t give me a reason to,” he promises, taking a drag as he pulls out his Glock, “Point that at her, though, and I will. Give it.”

“Fuck,” the man curses – David’s nonchalance is one of his best attributes – eyes rolling and taking the gun off of him, “Fine. I hate you. You’re a little shit.”

David gets in the car with five grand more than he thought he would come back with, casually sucking his teeth and tossing the gun in the backseat. He places a toothpick between his lips, tutting, “That guy’s an asshole. Fifteen bands, though. You want something nice?”

“Don't spend your money on me,” you say, “Not worth it.”

“Liar,” he chuckles, beginning to drive, “Sweetheart, I’ve made seventy-five thousand dollars in the past month and a half. I have almost four hundred thousand dollars to my name in cash. I have more money than I know what to do with. Let me buy you shit.”

“I’m not going to ask you for anything,” you promise, “Not with you for the money. I don't give a shit. I like when you're successful.”

“Riiiiiight,” he says doubtfully, “Okay, so when you come home to expensive packages you 'didn't want,’” he air-quotes mockingly, laughing slightly, “I want a picture of you and whatever I buy you and you saying, ‘No, thank you, Daddy. I don't want this Versace dress, I promise.’”

“I hate you so much,” you shove playfully, “Of course I’ll accept...but is that shit worth getting a gun pulled on for?”

“Ha,” David actually says, glancing between you and the road, “Anything for my girl.”

“God, baby. What are you doing?” David gripes in a whisper, eyeing the bong in your hands, “Putting that shit through college? Light the bowl and get on with it.”

You’ve had David in your life for three months now, dating him for one, and somehow, there are still things you haven't been taught how to do. Unfortunately, this includes how to use a bong, and now you’re under pressure, sitting in his lap. You’re both squoze in a shitty plastic chair, everyone arranged in a circle in one of David’s jerkoff friend’s backyards.

David is the only man in his friend group who has a girl.

David wipes at the corner of his mouth quickly before his hands are on your waist, mouth by your ear, “I’m telling you how to do this once, and only once.”

“Thumb over the carb. The back hole, baby,” he clarifies, “Mouth in the top hole. Seal. Light. Now, pull.”

You do as he says, his voice quiet as his friends make small talk with each other, eyeing the way he aids you, “Pullpullpullpull. Take off your thumb. Inhale all of it.”

You do, inhaling as much as you can, cough-free, quickly exhaling before he’s clearing the chamber for you, wiping the mouthpiece with the sleeve of his t-shirt before passing the glass to his buddy next to him. No one is saying it, but all they can think of when they watch you two is a charity case. They would never dare speak it – David would probably kill them – but he was never the type for good girls.

He’s sweet, for the most part, sure – but he’s also fucked every other girl sitting in that entire circle and none of them come close to being the same species as you. David’s wearing his cross again, something he stopped doing years ago, and you’re wearing one too. They also know he’s moving more coke and MDMA than he has in his entire life – it’s no coincidence.

He’s not manipulative, never has been, so it’s not that. He’s truly interested, and they can’t figure it out; you’re an odd match for him, and David seems especially enamored as you light his cigarette for him, eyes on his. He exhales the first drag quickly before kissing you, wholly on display for everyone who cares to see as he shamelessly tugs you closer after taking another drag. He shotguns the cigarette smoke with you, and judging by the way you’ve got your arms wrapped around his neck and the hickeys on his skin are peeking out from under his wife beater tank top – you’re enamored with him as much as he is with you.

They’ve all seen this man rail lines of ketamine and cocaine right after one another off of a random broad’s ass and continue his night doing shots, girls at his fingertips wherever he went; so, to see him so voluntarily committed to one woman – a woman who’s good for him and a woman who’s not like him at all – is staggering. They understand David well enough to know he doesn't force himself into anything; if he’s in a situation, it’s because he puts himself there, and if he wanted out, he would leave.

The most substantial evidence of this thought process of his is every girl’s experience with him in the bedroom behind closed doors. Not bad, performance wise, of course – but he’s selfish. One particular anecdote cites him pulling out, tearing off the condom, getting dressed, and asking said girl to leave. ‘Fuck, this sucks. You can go home now, sugar. Thanks, anyway, though,’ he had supposedly said, bathroom door shutting and shower turning on before she was even able to get her bra back on. He ended up cumming down his shower drain to the thought of Blake Lively’s tits, free hand holding himself up against the wall of white porcelain tiles as his free palm and fingers worked over himself, not feeling one inkling of guilt for that poor girl – who’s now bitterly sitting across from you and David in the circle, watching you cluelessly kiss the taste of Coors Light off of his lips.

You and David are hardly paying attention to anything besides each other, and it’s been this way every time he's visited, and you’ve tagged along. Cigarette between his fingers, he whispers comments to you to make you giggle, resembling rebellious teenagers at a shitty house party as the fingers of his spare hand creep up the hem of your (David’s) t-shirt.

It comes as a shock for everyone, including you, when David pushes your hair out of your face and murmurs a quiet admission without thinking twice about the meaning of it, “I love you, my sweet girl.”

Even while stoned, you feel yourself go breathless in his hold as he continues to nonchalantly play with the ends of your hair and kisses your forehead, ensuring, “Say it back whenever you want to. No pressure, babygirl. I’m just saying.”

A quiet but not unnoticed interaction, it’s painfully obvious to everyone how beguiled he is with you – a scarce but not entirely unfamiliar feeling for him to experience. He’s a grown man; he’s been in love before. David’s best quality is his self-awareness; he knows it’s too early, and he knows himself well enough to understand that he will be wholeheartedly, emotionally fucked if something, however much unanticipated, goes wrong with your relationship.

It’s a chance he’s willing to take, and he’s not ashamed of it – he’s too comfortable with himself to be ashamed of any of his desires. That being said, it doesn't take the surprise out of him when you reciprocate his words following a moment of silence, leaning in to kiss him.

David’s previous projects look on amid their conversations, covetous eyes rolling while he smiles into your kisses and lets you affectionately run your fingers through his scruff. Adorning one of his t-shirts, his signature scent of weed and sweet cigarettes is slowly becoming engraved into your skin and your hair, scarlet and plum hickeys almost always smattered against your collarbone and shoulders as evidence of his residency in your personal life.

At the recognition and confirmation of your mutual attraction, David’s ready to go home, heart eyes taking over his desire for social company as he flicks his cigarette and stands with you, murmuring a quiet, “You wanna get the fuck outta here?” into your ear.

You nod, and David quickly bids everyone goodnight, leading you by the small of your back to the car, sighing, “Fuck, I’m glad to be outta there. They were on some other shit tonight.”

“They seemed pissed at you,” you comment as he turns the key in the ignition, lacing your fingers together and resting your head on his shoulder, breathing him in, “Why?”

“I don't give a shit,” he shrugs, absentmindedly driving, “I don't think about them at all anymore.”

“I love you,” you say randomly a few minutes later, squeezing his hand, “For real. I’m so grateful for you.”

“I love you, too, my sweet girl,” David promises, eyes switching between you and the road, “You make me so much nicer.”

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nalgenewhore · 4 years

Text

“E, I’m here,” Lorcan called out from her front hall. “How’re you feeling, love?”

A pathetic groan was her answer, “Having a uterus is ass.” She heard him snort and a couple moments later, he was appearing in the doorway to her bedroom, a sympathetic tilt to his head. She pouted at him and he laughed, entering her room and walking to her side, where she was curled in the fetal position around her hot water bottle. She noticed the shopping bag he had in his hand and nodded feebly towards it, “What’s in there?” Hellas, her dog, lifted his head from where it had been resting on her hip, whining softly.

Lorcan glanced down at the bag and started pulling out stuff he had gotten her, placing them on her desk. “Diva Cup spray, super pads, the Kodex type, and pantie liners, Midol, you ran out,” he mentioned to her as he put the bottle of pills on her nightstand, just within her reach. “That chocolate thingie you forgot at the store yesterday, remember, you cried when you realized you forgot and the store was closed.” There was a smirk on his lips and that hurt more than she thought it could. It wasn’t funny.

Tears pooled in her eyes at the memory, “You don’t have to say it like that.” She sniffled and he looked up, his face stricken. “You don’t have to be a massive dick about it.” Hellas barked slightly, growling at his owner’s distress and the source of it, her stupid boyfriend.

“Oh, I didn’t mean it like that, E, I just-” There was a slight edge of laughter to his voice and it cut deep into her.

“If you’re gonna be like that, you can just leave, I don’t need someone making me feel worse than I already do about things I can’t control.” With that, she turned to her other side, furiously trying to stop her crying. She despised her period, hated how sensitive she was, hated how every movement had her wincing in discomfort. The hot water bottle wasn’t so hot anymore and she groaned, knowing she would have to get up to refill it and she knew that the move to vertical would make her nauseous and dizzy.

The mattress shifted and the duvet was pulled up as Lorcan settled behind her, tugging her slowly enough so that she could push him off if she wanted but Elide let him pull her to his chest, his arms wrapping around her waist snugly but not too tightly. “I’m sorry, E. I shouldn’t have said it like that, I know how much you hate your period and I wish I could make it all go away, mahasani.”

“Och,” she said, her voice thick with tears. “You asshole, stop making me cry.”

Lorcan laughed and the sound vibrated through his chest and into her back, “Do you forgive me?”

“Yes, I forgive you,” she said, the smile on her face swept off when Lorcan pulled her hot water bottle away, “What the literal fuck do you think you-”

He chuckled as his warm hands slipped under her hoodie and pressed into her stomach, exactly where her cramp was. “You’re feisty today.”

“Yesh, well, shedding your uterus will do that to a gal,” she said, no bite in her words as his hands rubbed her stomach, just enough pressure directly below her belly button that her discomfort was soothed away. Elide sighed and relaxed fully against him, her head falling back onto his shoulder. “Mmm, that feels nice.” Her hands found their way into Hellas’ thick fur, stroking softly.

“Yeah?” he asked and she felt his smile in her neck.

“Mm-hmm.” She sighed and her eyes fell shut, “I’m gonna fall asleep if you keep doing that.” Lorcan practically glowed with pride, Elide hardly slept while during her cycle, her pain kept her up even after her meds. “Thank you, baby,” she whispered as she let slumber drag her under.

When she woke up, the snow was still falling outside and her lamp was casting a soft glow about her room. Her arms were wrapped around Hellas, the Husky sleeping soundly. Lorcan was nowhere to be seen and she was covered in a pile of warm blankets. There was something heated on her stomach and she felt around, realizing it was her electric blanket that she thought she had lost.

Elide heard someone moving around in the main room of her apartment and slowly swung her legs out of bed, noting the glass of water and two little pill stamped with ‘Midol’. She smiled and noticed her pain wasn’t as bad, electing to leave them there as she stood and put her glasses on before she slowly shuffled out of her room.

Lorcan was standing in her kitchen, and he turned when she shut her door, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Hi, there. Feeling better?”

Elide nodded and approached him before wrapping her arms around his waist. “Yeah, I thought I lost my electric blanket.”

“Oh, that? I got a new one ‘cause I know how much you loved your old one.” He said it so casually but Elide squealed in delight.

“You did?”

Lorcan laughed, “Yeah, you were full-on sobbing when you couldn’t find it.”

Elide sighed, the sound wavering as tears pricked her eyes again and her throat tightened. “We don’t need to talk about that right now.” He smiled and wiped her tears away, leaning down to kiss her softly. “Ok?”

“Ok.” He nipped her bottom lip and pulled away, “You hungry?”

“Fucking starving.” She laughed and looked around him to where there was a plate of grilled-cheese sandwiches and a mug of steaming tea. “How did you know that’s what I wanted?”

Lorcan grinned and dropped a kiss on the top of her head, “You know, your cravings are really predictable, E. It’s the same thing every month.”

She pouted and crossed her arms, “I’m not that obvious about it.” Lorcan rose a brow as he passed her her mug of tea, huffing a laugh when she sipped and sighed in bliss. “I don’t care how obvious I am, this tea is worth it.”

Lorcan chuckled as he grabbed her plate of sandwiches and guiding her to the couch, where there was a pile of pillows and blankets for her. “Sit down, babe. I got something for you.”

“Oh?” she questioned, scrunching her nose as she curled into the corner of the couch, her tea held securely in her hands, the steam wafting from it fogging her glasses. “What’d ya get?”

“You’ll see,” he told her as he crouched in front of her TV and joined her shortly after. Lorcan pulled her legs over his lap and rubbed her thigh with his thumbs.

He turned his head and looked down at her, waiting till she looked up at him and smiled, “Thank you for coming over.” She rested her head on his shoulder, batting her eyes at him.

“Even though I’ve made you cry, I think, twice now?”

Elide laughed and nodded, “Even if you’ve made me cry twice now. So,” she put her tea on the coffee table and nestled into his chest, “What’s your surprise?”

He pressed a sweet kiss on her forehead, “Close your eyes, princess.” She was buzzing with excitement as she bit her lip and closed her eyes, her lashes brushing against her specs.

She opened them when she heard the first note of the F.R.I.E.N.D.S theme song and she cried out in happiness, “What. They took it off of Netflix, how did you find it, I can’t believe you found it, I’m-” She cut herself off to clap along and then laugh, falling back against him. “I’m so happy right now, you cannot even imagine.” She held his hands to her chest, squeezing them periodically as the show continued to play.

It had taken him days to find the complete box-set of DVD’s for Elide’s favourite comfort-food show. She had been so sad when Netflix had taken it down and moped around her apartment days afterwards.

She’d told him she hadn’t cried but he knew that she had definitely burst into a puddle of tears when she couldn’t find it and had ranted to him about how Netflix and Apple were evil corporations that didn’t care about their customers and only thought about making the most money after she had found out that to buy the entire show would cost her over one hundred dollars.

It’s ridiculous, Lorcan! It’s criminal, is what it is, how could they do this to their customers? Why would they do this to me, I’m a good person, I’m environmentally conscious, I’m vegetarian, I don’t have a car and walk or take public transit most places, I am a tax paying citizen, I’m never late to pay my bills, I’m a fucking kindergarten teacher, for Anneith’s sake, my dog is a rescue, why would they do this to me?

Now, he wasn’t watching the show at all. Instead, his eyes were on Elide, the woman that he was sure was the one he would marry, the love of his life, the sun to his days, the stars and moon to his nights. His throat tightened as she eventually drifted off, her grilled-cheese left untouched on the coffee table. “Iyótaŋčhila, Elide Lochan.” I love you, Elide Lochan.

“What’d ya say?” Her voice was thick with sleep like warm honey sitting in a glass jar.

Shit. Fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuck, she had been asleep, she had fallen asleep on his chest and he knew it because Lorcan Salvaterre knew what it felt like to have her sleeping next to him. “I, I just…” he trailed off, his heart slamming in his chest. Elide slowly pulled herself up, her eyes wide and her brows raised. Lorcan bowed his head and rested it on her clavicle, “I love you, Elide.”

“You do?” Elide’s voice was thick with tears once more and filled with wonder. “You love me?”

Lorcan raised his head, their noses brushing as he nodded, “Elide Syeira Lochan, I love you.”

She gasped and her eyes lined with silver. Elide brushed her thumb over his high cheekbone, “Kamav tut, I love you too, Lorcan Ohitekah Salvaterre, I love you so gods-damned much.” His eyes were brimming with tears as he smiled and they spilled down his cheeks and so did hers, “Stop making me cry, bengalo.”

Lorcan’s lips pulled into a wide smile as he laughed and it was the most beautiful sound she had ever heard as he kissed her slowly, “I’m sorry, E. Will you forgive me?”

“Hmm, I think I’ll have to think on that, my love, your offences have been rather egregious lately,” she mused, tilting her head up to brush her lips against him. Elide cackled when he stuck his bottom lip out and made his eyes wide and sad.

“Pretty please?” He pouted and somehow made tears pool in his eyes, though she knew that they were fake. “With sugar on top?”

Elide huffed in a joking way and rolled her eyes, “Oh, I guess I can find it in my soul to forgive you.”

“Thank Hellas for that.”

++++++

Translations: I used Lakota (Sioux) for Lorcan’s mother tongue and Romany for Elide’s!

Lakota:

Mahasani: Term of endearment, translates to ‘my other skin’

Iyótaŋčhila: ‘I love you’

Ohitekah: Lakota name that means ‘fierce or war-like’

Romany:

Kamav tut: ‘I love you’

Bengalo: Idiot

Syeira: Romany name, means ‘princess’

@myfeyrelady @kandasboi @schmlip-scribble @the-regal-warrior @highqueenofelfhame @westofmoon @empire-of-wildfire @rhysands-highlady @city-of-fae @shyvioletcat @alifletcher2012 @tangledraysofsunshine @ttakeitbacknoww @tswaney17

#elorcan #elidexlorcan #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #isa writes #nalgenewhore

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nocturnal-jeon · 5 years

Text

𝚍𝚊𝚍!𝚋𝚝𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 ➛ 𝚜/𝚘 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚑

barely proofread oops

Kim Namjoon

Namjoon, the research god, spent hours at his laptop ever since you told him that you were pregnant. He just needed to know everything about pregnancy and infants so that he was emotionally and factually prepared for whatever would arise during your pregnancy.

He would visit medical centers to ask personalized questions and he would take notes. He was a team player, really.

He studied all the different ways to give birth and when he came across the idea of a water birth. He was interested because he had never heard of it and he appreciated how it was seemingly one of the more natural ways to give birth. He wanted to know all there is to it before he presented the idea to you.

And yes, he presented it.

He created a slideshow and sat you in front of his laptop. He had pictures and quotes from doctors he visited and he explained all the pros and cons. Really, you were just amused to see Namjoon being so professional about this, but as he explained everything, you grew to love the idea.

You went to run it by your mom to see what she thought. But since she was very old fashioned, she hated the idea and wanted you to just naturally push the baby out. You didn’t listen to your mom, though, because it wouldn’t be the first time that she disagreed with your lifestyle choices. Shit, every week your mom would call disappointed that Namjoon hadn’t proposed yet.

But you were happy with where your life was at the moment. You felt that you didn’t need to get married to him to validate your love for him. Not that you didn’t want to get married with him, though. You would love to be married to Namjoon, but you were having a good time at the current spot in your relationship.

You and Namjoon had been admitted to the hospital several hours ago since you felt your first contraction. Namjoon was out, but he met you at the hospital, tripping on his way into the room.

With the help of the nurses and doctors, they lowered you into the tub, the warm water calming your aching body as the contractions kept coming. Namjoon wore swim shorts without a shirt as he sat in the tub with you, your back resting against his chest. You sad nestled in between his legs as his arms reached around your body and he rubbed your stomach.

He placed soft kisses on your shoulder as your face contorted with each painful contraction. “You’re doing amazing, baby. Just keep breathing,” Namjoon whispered into your ear. Though the warm water was comforting, Namjoon was the best pain medication.

You chose to not have any pain medicine, which seemed crazy to some, but you and Namjoon wanted to go the natural route. You leaned your head back and sniffled, the pain intensifying. “Hey,” Namjoon softly said turning to look at you. “I know it hurts. You can always get pain medicine and there’s nothing wrong about that,” he explained, rubbing your stomach. You nodded, but swallowed the pain.

After you rode through the first stage of labor, Namjoon got out of the tub and watched as they prepared you for birth. Namjoon watched with proud eyes. He thought you were the strongest person ever.

You began to push, the nurses and doctors aiding you. Your screams echoed through the private room Namjoon paid hundreds of dollars for just so that you and his baby boy were comfortable. He rubbed your back as you screamed at the top of your lungs, the pain of childbirth taking a toll on your body.

You pushed, screamed, and agonized for hours. But once your son came out, screaming and crying loudly, you fell back into the water and breathed heavily. The nurses placed your son on your chest and you rubbed his back, smiling. “Hi, darling,” you cooed. Namjoon scooted next to the tub and smiled.

“He’s so beautiful,” Namjoon softly said. You turned to look at Namjoon. “We did that, Joon,” you said, tears brimming your eyes. “You know what I want to name him? I know I said I didn’t like this name, but I just didn’t want you to know you were right,” you admitted, causing Namjoon to chuckle.

“What name is it, baby? I’ll let it pass since you just gave birth,” Namjoon said, smirking. “Ha-joon,” you whispered, turning to look at your little baby. “I knew you would love that one. But, yes, baby, I love it, too,” Namjoon joked, kissing your cheek. “I love you, y/n. You’re so strong, baby,” Namjoon lovingly said. “I love you too, darling. And little Ha-joon, too,” you mumbled, placing a soft kiss to your son’s head.

Kim Seokjin

You were simply walking down the hallway, making your way to the bedroom to lay down when you felt wet liquid drip down your leg. At first you thought that you peed yourself, but when you felt a sharp pain in the side of your stomach, you knew your water had broke.

“Jin,” you called out, hunching over and grabbing your stomach as the worst pain you’ve ever felt rocked your body. Jin emerged from the bedroom, confused, but at the sight of your body hunched over in such a way, a puddle at your feet, he had a feeling what was going on.

“I think you’re in labor, baby,” he said with a smile, excited that it was finally happening. You were amazed at how calm and collected Jin was, but then again, he had been imagining and planning this day for nine months.

“Here. Let’s get you to the car,” Jin soothingly said as he helped walk you outside to the car. He helped you sit down and you smiled when you saw that all the bags and equipment was already in the car. Jin was so prepared.

As he drove you to the hospital, he played Mozart through his phone. Jin, throughout your pregnancy, would play Mozart to your bump in hopes that it would seep through to the baby. The pain was at such a high level, though, that your hormones switched dramatically.

After groaning loudly, you shouted, “Turn it off!” You were tired of hearing Mozart on repeat for so long. Jin respectively turned it off, not being offended at all by your tone. “Deep breaths,” Jin said in a relaxed voice, looking over at you for a split second before placing his eyes back on the road.

Once the two of you arrived at the hospital, the nurses wheeled you inside as you groaned in agony. They brought you into a room and began monitoring you. Jin watched you with careful, supportive eyes. He held your and, his thumb rubbing the skin on the back of your hand. “You’ll be okay. Just think of the outcome,” Jin softly said, causing you to smile a bit.

And once you started pushing, you kept Jin’s words in your mind. Think of the outcome. Think of the outcome. Think of the outcome. Jin rubbed your back as you pushed, screaming and groaning. It hurt Jin to see you in such a state, but he took his own advice. Think of the outcome.

And when your son was resting on your chest, you realized the outcome was worth it. As Jin held him after you, he couldn’t help himself. “Yah! He’s so handsome,” Jin exclaimed, causing you to playfully roll your eyes. The boys walked into the room and gasped when they saw the little baby nestled in Jin’s arms.

“He’s adorable, guys,” Namjoon whispered as he gazed down at the baby. “What’s his name?” Jungkook asked. “Jae-jin,” Jin announced, causing all the boys to smile and nod. “It fits him,” Hoseok explained.

The boys spent around an hour and a half in the room, talking and interacting with the baby, but you couldn’t help but sigh playfully when he made the boys wash their hands, put sanitizer on, lotion, and then a face mask on when it was their turn to hold Jae-jin.

And once the boys left, Jin scooted into the bed with you and held his son on his bare chest, wanting the skin to skin contact.

“How did you remain so calm?” you asked, resting your head on his shoulder and looking down at Jae-jin. “I thought of the outcome. I really did. This is the best day of my life and I wanted to be calm enough to remember it,” Jin explained in a soft voice, careful of waking up the baby. You kissed his shoulder.

“I hope he inherits that from you. I was losing my shit,” you joked. He smiled. “He inherited my worldwide looks, didn’t he?” Jin said, a smirk on his lips. “I set myself up for that, didn’t I?” you said. He nodded. “You really did,” he joked, causing you to giggle.

Min Yoongi

This baby would not come. You were a week past your due date and this little girl would not come.

You tried literally every home remedy to induce labor, but nothing would work. It was incredibly frustrating for you, but Yoongi just found it hilarious. He would find it funny when you went for a walk and came back completely fine or when you ate spicy food and all you got was a mouth on fire.

“Yoongi,” you whined as you stood in the doorway of his studio. Your hand was placed on your lower back and your other hand was leaning against the doorframe. Taking off is headphones, Yoongi turned around and looked at you. The way he looked at you was different now. He loved you more, if that was even possible, ever since you got pregnant.

“What are you doing up, baby? Come sit,” he lightly scolded as he stood up and guided you over to the couch and helped you sit down. Pulling up his chair, he sat down across from you and lifted your bare feet onto his thighs.

His ringed fingers rubbed the soles of your feet as you threw your head back and let out a loud moan. Yoongi chuckled and pressed deeper into the sore skin. “What’s wrong, darling? Hm?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. You rubbed your massive stomach and looked at him, an adorable pout on your lips.

“She won’t come and I don’t know what else to do,” you whined. Yoongi frowned. “My little baby is just as stubborn as me,” he joked, causing you to chuckle momentarily. “Yoongi, I’m serious. Can you call my doctor and ask her what to do?” you requested.

“Of course,” he replied as he reached into his pocket to grab his phone. As he was searching for his contact, he looked down at your feet surprisingly when he felt your food poke him in the stomach. “I didn’t say you could stop rubbing,” you pointed out, causing him to let out a deep chuckle. “Give me a second and I’ll give you the best foot rub,” he said as he put the phone to his ear, waiting for it to stop ringing.

“What, you haven’t been doing your best this whole time?” you asked, your raging hormones causing an immediate switch in your mood. Yoongi balanced the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he used both hands to rub your aching feet.

You smiled and yet let out yet another moan of relief.

Yoongi spoke to your doctor for a few minutes before thanking her and hanging up.

“So, looks like we have to take a trip to the hospital just so they can figure out what’s stalling the labor,” he said, causing your eyes to widen. “Hey, don’t get nervous. We’re just taking a car ride, that’s it,” Yoongi said soothingly. You nodded and he drove to the hospital, his hand on your belly the entire time.

As you sat in a hospital bed, the ugly gown on, the nurse came in to take basic information like temperature and stuff like that. Yoongi sat beside your bed and watched the nurse with hard eyes, his protection towards his daughter domineering his emotions.

“I’ll be right back with the doctor,” the nurse said, shooting a smile towards both you and Yoongi, though Yoongi didn’t return even as much as a glance. His eyes were on you and your bump.

“Yoongi, lighten up, babe,” you said, reaching over to hold his hand. He held it and brought it close to his mouth, placing a warm kiss. “Sorry, I’m just nervous,” he admitted, looking up at you. “What happened to, “it’s just a car ride?”” you teased. “Shut up,” Yoongi said, causing you to giggle.

“Hello. Since nothing seems to get this little girl to move, we’re just going to induce labor,” the doctor said once she entered the room. You nodded and they did their thing.

And after probably three hours of contractions, the worst pain you’ve ever felt, you had to endure even more pain to push your little girl out. Yoongi was there the entire time, holding back his own bouts of pain when you squeezed the life out of his hand.

Your screams rang through Yoongi’s ears and he felt horrible that you had to put your body through intense pain for several hours while he got to just sit there. But as soon as you heard the wailing of your daughter, you knew each minute you lived in agony was worth it.

As the nurses cleaned her and swaddled her, Yoongi grabbed a rag and wiped your forehead and your face to get rid of the sweat. “You’re so strong, baby. I’m so proud of you,” Yoongi murmured before kissing your forehead. “Here’s your little baby girl. Congratulations,” one of the nurses said as she carefully handed you your daughter. With the help of Yoongi, you sat up and held her securely in your arms.

You looked down at her small face and smiled. “Hi, angel,” you whispered. Yoongi watched you with a massive amount of love in his eyes as he stared at the most important things in his life: his girls.

“Yoongi, do you wanna hold her?” you asked, turning to look at Yoongi who was watching intently. He nodded and gently took her out of your arms, supporting her head as he leaned back in his chair.

“Hey, baby girl. Welcome to our fucked up family,” he joked, causing you to gasp. “Min Yoongi, language,” you scolded, causing him to smirk. Yoongi stared at her face and admired everything about her. He loved how small everything was. Her nose was identical to yours, but so much tinier.

“So, parents, have we decided on a name?” one of the nurses asked as she held her certificate. You and Yoongi looked at each other, having a conversation with your eyes.

But after about twenty seconds, you nodded and he did too, the cutest grin on his smile.

“Min Min-ah,” you said, looking up at the nurse. She smiled and wrote it down before leaving the room.

Yoongi held your daughter for an hour and placed her in her own little hospital crib before he hovered over your bed and kissed you softly. “Get some rest, baby. You deserve it,” he whispered. You nodded and tried to get as comfortable as you could and you quickly fell asleep.

But that night, Yoongi didn’t sleep one wink. He kept his eyes on you and Min-ah, not risking the smallest thing.

Jung Hoseok

You and Hoseok were relaxing in the house on a cold rainy day. It was his day off and the one thing that he wanted to do was spend some much needed time with you and the baby. At first, when he woke up, he made you breakfast in bed.

He knew that you were having a rough time sleeping, so he wanted to give you a nice meal that would energize you. He made you a bowl of fruit with a few pancakes and freshly squeezed orange juice. While he wanted you to be full, he wanted you and the baby to be healthy.

Slowly opening the door, he couldn’t help but smile at your sleeping figure on the bed. You were resting on your back, your legs sprawled out with your shirt exposing three quarters of your stomach. Seemingly nothing fit you these days.

“Good morning, darling,” he chirped happily as he spread the blinds open, letting in the bright light. You groaned on the bed and squinted, covering your eyes. “Why is it so bright?” you whined. Hoseok chuckled and helped you sit up in bed. “I made you and little sunshine in there some breakfast,” he explained as he placed the tray on your lap. You smiled and rubbed your eyes.

“God, you are perfect,” you sighed happily before shoving a spoonful of fruit into your mouth. Your head dropped back as you chewed, a smile on your lips the whole time.

Hoseok saw this as an example to clean some things up around the house. Firstly, he made his side of the bed and put all of the dirty clothes into the hamper. He then cleaned up the small mess he made in the kitchen and tidied up the living room.

Meanwhile, you sat in bed and ate your food, beyond grateful for Hoseok. At first, you thought your baby was kicking you to let you know he liked the food. But the pain grew to be too much and you couldn’t help but groan. Since Hoseok was downstairs, he had his ears trained to listen for your voice. So he heard that groan.

Dropping the pillow he was fluffing, he ran up the stairs, skipping three steps at a time. “What’s wrong?” he asked worriedly, rushing over and putting the tray of food on the floor so it didn’t spill. “I think I’m having contractions,” you mumbled, clutching at your stomach. Hoseok’s face lit up. “That means our baby is coming. My son is coming. Holy shit!” Hoseok exclaimed, his hands coming up to hold his face. Normally, you would watch him and smile, finding him absolutely adorable, but you were in so much pain that you just couldn’t admire him.

“Hoseok!” you shouted, getting his attention. “I need you to get the bags and all the stuff we prepared and put it in the car,” you instructed through gritted teeth as you tried to manage the pain. He immediately lunged to get your hospital bag, but he looked up at you. “What about you? I shouldn’t leave you here,” he explained, more stressed than excited, at this point.

“I’m fine on the bed it’s comfortable. But go put the stuff in the car,” you said. He nodded and sprinted to grab everything he knew you would need and he practically jumped down the stairs and ran to the car, putting everything inside.

Just as fast, if not faster, Hoseok ran upstairs and carried you to the car. Yes, carried. He thought it would be better if you didn’t walk and he was just so excited that it motivated him and energized him.

Once he arrived at the hospital, he excitedly called the boys to come to hospital as the nurses and doctors took care of you.

And when push came to shove (see what i did there. PUSH hehehe), Hoseok was like a trainer in the delivery room. He was cheering you on, praising you every two minutes. He was like an overly enthusiastic parent on the sidelines of a soccer game. It annoyed you a little, to be honest, but you knew it was his way of masking how nervous he was. So you let him carry on.

And after you pushed for the last time and your son came out, screaming as loud as Hoseok, you fell back and breathed heavily. Hoseok clapped. He clapped like he was at a concert. The nurses found his cheerleader-like actions adorable. “You did so well! I’m so proud of you!” he praised as he leaned down and kissed your head.

They cleaned off your son and just as they were handing him to you, you shook your head. “I know his daddy is really excited to meet him,” you said, a sweet smile on your face. The nurse smiled back and turned to Hoseok, who sat up straight in his chair, his arms ready. And as the nurse instructed him on how to properly hold your baby, Hoseok fell silent.

His eyes examined his son. His mini me. He had all of Hoseok’s features, but as soon as his little boy opened his eyes, he saw your eyes. His body grew warm as he smiled down at the best thing to ever happen to him.

“Here, baby. You can hold him. You pushed him out, after all,” Hoseok gently said in a quiet voice as he stood up and carefully placed his baby in your arms. You looked down at him, feeling as though you were staring at a mirror imagine of Hoseok.

“Hey, little guy,” you cooed, all the pain you went through worth it.

“Baby. You know what name I really like for him?” Hoseok said, standing over you and watching with a smile, his hands in his pockets. “What is it?” you asked, not taking your eyes off of your son.

“Yun-seok,” he announced. You looked at your son and saw that the name fit him perfectly. “I love it, Hobi,” you whispered. Slowly, Hoseok placed a kiss on your head and kneeled down so that his face was closer to the baby. “Little Yun-seok,” he murmured, placing a delicate kiss on his forehead.

Park Jimin

You and Jimin were peacefully sleeping in bed. Well, Jimin was. You were laying on your side, a pillow under your stomach to cushion it, and you were trying your best to remain asleep for more than ten minutes before waking up. As you looked at the time, you sighed when you saw that it was only 3am.

Suddenly, you let out a heart-wrenching scream filled to the brim with pain. Jimin quickly rolled over and looked at you with worry written all over his face. “What’s wrong?” he asked, turning on the lamp beside him and sitting up. He helped you sit up, but you screamed out in pain, holding onto your stomach in pure agony.

“It hurts a lot. I don’t know why, Jimin,” you whined, a few stray tears pouring out of your eyes. “Let me bring you to the hospital, baby. “Do you think you can walk?” he asked, but your response was just another scream of agony. “I’ll just call an ambulance,” Jimin frantically said as he searched for his phone and called 911.

Jimin watched you with wide eyes as he rubbed your stomach soothingly. “What hurts, baby?” he asked, tears in his eyes as he watched you. “My stomach,” you whined. “It’s okay. They’re on their way,” Jimin said.

On the way to the hospital in the ambulance, Jimin called the boys and told them to meet him at the hospital for support. They rushed you through the ER as your loud groans practically filled the hospital. Jimin watched with wide eyes the entire time.

And as the doctor checked over you and the baby, Jimin nibbled on his nails nervously as he gave the medical professionals their space. They did an ultrasound and Jimin’s eyes smiled as he looked at his baby on the screen, but that smile disappeared quickly when he saw the look on the doctor’s face.

“We have to rush her to the OR,” the doctor announced to the nurses in the room. Your eyes widened. “OR? As in operating room?” you asked worriedly, trying your best to sit up. “It’s a good thing we did the ultrasound. The umbilical cord is wrapped around the baby’s throat, which is constricting the flow of oxygen. So I’m going to perform an emergency c-section,” the doctor explained, already pushing the bed out of the room.

Jimin jogged up to you and brought his face close to yours. “You’ll be okay. I’ll be right out here waiting for you,” Jimin said. But you didn’t respond since you were groaning painfully.

When they took you where Jimin couldn’t go, a nurse led him to a waiting room. In the waiting room were the boys, who were all sitting or standing, worried, too. “Hey, what’s going on?” Namjoon asked when he saw Jimin. All the boys gathered. “She’s getting a c-section because the cord is around the baby’s throat and she can’t breathe,” Jimin spoke, looking at the floor.

“I’m so sorry to hear that-” Jin began, but he stopped speaking when Jimin began sobbing uncontrollably. His knees weakened and Taehyung practically caught him. Jimin sobbed into Taehyung’s chest, a fear he didn’t even know he could have, making his heart rattle.

“What if she’s not okay? What if my girls aren’t okay?” Jimin asked, tears streaming down his face. “She’ll be okay,” Jungkook said, rubbing Jimin’s back. “Both of them will be okay,” Hoseok said. Jimin was a hot mess for about twenty minutes. And then proceeded to wait with the boys for two and a half long hours.

When the nurse came out, Jimin stood up immediately and speed walked over to her. “Mom and baby are both okay,” she said, causing Jimin to breathe out a loud sigh of relief. “I’ll take you to see them and then your company can come in a few minutes,” the nurse explained before she guided Jimin to your room.

“Hey, Jimin,” you spoke, your small angel in your arms. “Hi, darling. How do you feel?” he asked as he slowly approached you, sparkling eyes. “Better now that she’s here,” you said, a small smile on your face as you looked down at your daughter.

“Do you wanna hold her?” you asked. He nodded and gently held the baby, sitting down in a chair next to the bed you rested in. “Hi, ladybug,” Jimin cooed, using his thumb to softly stroke her head. “You gave me and mommy quite the scare,” he teased, causing you to giggle. “But you’re perfect. You’re beyond perfect, ladybug,” he whispered. Slowly, the boys filed in, first going to you to give you a hug and congratulate you.

“Aww, look at that little angel,” Jin complimented as he kneeled down to look at her close up. “What’s her name?” Yoongi asked, looking between you and Jimin. “Ae-min,” you said, causing all the boys to ‘aww’.

“Park Ae-min. It suits her beautifully,” Hoseok said. Jimin nodded. “Her name may be Ae-min, but she’s my little ladybug,” Jimin spoke, looking straight down at the best thing to have ever resulted from his relationship with you.

Kim Taehyung

You and Taehyung had a very distinct plan for the birth and you had all the preparations made. The car seats were in the car, your bag and a bag for the babies was in the trunk, and you always had your phone on.

Taehyung always had his phone on, too.

He had been really good about making time for you and balancing work at the same time. How ironic was it that the one time Taehyung wasn’t with you that you began to feel contractions? You weren’t expecting this at all. You were only at 33 weeks.

At first, the pain didn’t even get to you because you were numb with fear. You felt that because it was so early, something was surely wrong. You reached for your phone beside you on the couch and you called Taehyung immediately, but since he was in a meeting, he had his phone turned off.

Frantically, you called 911 and held your stomach as you rode through the contractions, waiting for either Taehyung to call you back or for the ambulance to come. As you were laying down on a gurney in the ambulance, you felt your phone vibrating in your pocket, so you asked one of the medics to get it for you since your range of motion was limited due to your massive stomach.

“Y/n? What’s going on? I got your texts? You’re in labor? What are you doing right now? Are you in the ambulance?” he quickly asked, obviously a whole lot more worried than you. “Tae, breathe. I am in the ambulance,” you said, biting hard on your lip when you felt another sharp pain. “I’ll meet you there,” he quickly said before hanging up.

Somehow, when you arrived in the ER, Taehyung was there before the ambulance. You didn’t even want to ask how fast he was driving to manage to do that, but that didn’t matter right now. All that mattered was that he was there.

“Hi, baby, and my babies. How do you feel, y/n?” he asked as he sat with you in your hospital room. You could see the worry in his eyes. “It hurts,” you breathed as you tried to get through the passing contraction. He stroked your head soothingly. “You got this, darling, just breathe,” he softly instructed. Both your heads shot up, however, when the doctor came in.

“Well, it seems that your twins want to come a little early,” the doctor began, but Taehyung stopped listening after that as he stared down at the floor. You listened to the doctor speak and nodded occasionally, and after she left, you looked over at Taehyung.

“Hey, don’t cry,” you softly said, reaching over to put your hand on his knee. “She said it’s normal for multiples to come a little early. They’ll be okay, Taehyung,” you said, heartbroken at the sight of Taehyung crying. When one of the nurses came in to check the machines, Taehyung stood up and placed his head in the crook of your neck to hide his face, though it was obvious that he was crying.

You rubbed his back and let him cry it out. “It’s going to be okay, Tae. I’ll be okay and the twins will be okay,” you said, kissing his shoulder blade. He nodded and brought his head back up, sniffling and wiping his eyes.

It was hours before you were given the go-ahead to start pushing. And fuck, did it hurt. Taehyung watched with wide eyes, but he occasionally rubbed your back and kissed your head. You screamed bloody murder a good portion of birth, and as soon as the first baby was out, you collapsed back on the sea of pillows and breathed heavily. Taehyung watched as the nurses carried the little angel away to clean it. His eyes were filled with tears as he felt a whole different kind of love he had never felt before.

“Alright, y/n, you gotta start pushing again,” the doctor instructed, and you pushed with all your might until the second baby came out, screaming just as loud as the other one.

“You did so well, y/n. You did so well,” Taehyung complimented as he kissed your hands. “Who came out first?” you asked. “Your daughter,” the nurse said as she carried the small little infant over. She placed the tiny infant on your chest. You looked down at her and smiled, rubbing her back. “Hi,” you cooed.

“Dad, would you like to hold your son?” the nurse asked, walking towards Taehyung with your son in her arms. Taehyung nodded excitedly, gently yet securely holding his son.

“Why is he so small? Is this normal?” Taehyung asked, looking up worriedly at the nurse. “They’re premature, Mr. Kim. So after you two spend some time with them, I’d like to take them to the NICU,” the nurse said.

Taehyung nodded and looked down at his son. His son. “My little prince,” he cooed, staring lovingly at the little baby in his arms. “They’re adorable,” you commented, placing the softest kiss ever on your daughter. Your daughter.

“Can I hold my little princess?” Taehyung asked. You nodded and carefully, you exchanged babies. Taehyung’s heart melted as he set eyes on his little girl. His little girl. “I’ll protect you from everything, Taeyeon,” he mumbled, but you heard. “Taeyeon? You told me you hated that name,” you said, confused.

“Yeah, but as I look at her, I realize how much it fits. Kim Taeyeon. Doesn’t she look like a Taeyeon?” he asked, causing you to giggle. “She does. And I think her brother looks like a Taeyong,” you said, holding your son closer to your chest.

“Taeyeon and Taeyong. My little babies,” you said softly, a gentle smile on your face. “My prince and princess,” Taehyung whispered, placing a feather-like kiss on Taeyeon’s head.

After an hour and a half of spending time with your babies, the nurse came to bring the twins to the NICU. Taehyung kissed your lips repeatedly. “They’ll be okay, right?” you asked, worried. “Hush, baby. Just sleep. Our little babies are going to be okay and so will you,” Taehyung whispered as he ran his fingers through your hair.

You nodded and fell asleep to the sounds of Taehyung’s deep voice softly singing you to sleep.

“Thank you for giving me the best gifts ever,” Taehyung whispered in your ear before he fell asleep.

Jeon Jungkook

You sat in a comfortable chair in the corner of the dance practice room, your feet elevated on a stool. Your hand was rubbing your massive bump, a small smile on your face as you imagined how talented your son would be given how much skill and finesse Jungkook had.

The song just ended and the boys stood in their ending poses, breathing heavily. Once they got the go-ahead to take a break, Jungkook walked right over to you. “How did I do?” Jungkook asked, kneeling beside you and placing his large hands on the sides of your protruding stomach. “Well, I thought you-”

“Excuse me, but I was talking to my son,” Jungkook snarkily joked, causing you to gasp. “Rude,” you pouted. Jungkook immediately felt bad. “No, no. I was joking. I’m sorry, baby,” he muttered, reaching up to hold your face. Ever since you got pregnant, your hormones were out of control. Jungkook would give you a look that had no meaning, but you would think that he was mad at you and you would start crying.

It was a lot to handle.

He placed a warm kiss to your forehead. “How do you feel?” he asked, tilting his head to the side as his thumbs stroked the skin on your cheek. “Just a little tired,” you admitted. “Maybe you should go home. I don’t you to get too tired,” Jungkook said, a slight frown on his lips. It was late at night, after all. “No, it’s okay. I have to finish this assignment anyway,” you said. You stood up and placed a kiss to his shoulder as you passed.

You picked up your camera and began recording their dance practice, getting all the good angles and making sure the lighting was good. You slowly walked in front of the boys and got close ups of them as they sang their parts.

But as you zoomed in on Taehyung, you felt a sharp pain in your stomach, causing you to drop the camera on the floor and hunch over. The boys stopped immediately and Taehyung looked at you worriedly. “Y/n?” he said.

Jungkook jogged over to you and lowered himself so he could see your face. “What hurts? Is it the baby?” he asked, eyes wide. Suddenly, you felt something wet seep down your clothed legs and form a small puddle around you. “Did you just pee yourself?” Jungkook asked, a little disgusted, to be honest.

“No, idiot, my water broke,” you groaned. Jungkook’s eyes got even wider. “Water? So like. Labor?” he asked, at a loss for words. Yes, he knew that you had to give birth at some point. But he didn’t know it would be right here in the practice room.

“Here, guys. I’ll drive. Neither of you is in any state to drive,” Taehyung said as he grabbed his keys. “We’ll meet you at the hospital!” Jimin shouted as Jungkook helped you walk outside to the car. The two of you sat in the backseat while Taehyung quickly yet safely drove the car to the hospital.

Jungkook held onto your hand and watched sadly as your face contorted with each painful contraction. “You’ll be okay,” Jungkook soothingly said since he really didn’t know what else to say.

He watched as the doctors loaded you onto a gurney and brought you to a room, making all the preparations for birth. And when the time came to push, Jungkook was beyond shocked at what was actually happening. His son was coming into the world.

Jungkook made the mistake of peeking down to see what “crowning” meant.

He regretted that decision immediately. He came back up with wide, scarred eyes as he allowed you to squeeze the life out of hands. And when his son came out and was placed on your chest, Jungkook’s eyes widened.

“Hi, handsome boy,” you cooed as you rubbed his back. You nearly burst out laughing when you looked over at Jungkook’s face. “You’re a dad now, Kook,” you praised, causing him to smile a little.

Once the nurses cleaned him up and swaddled him, you sat up in bed with him in your arms. “Do you want to hold him?” you asked as you looked at your very scared fiancée. He looked up from his lap, do-eyed. “I-I don’t know how to,” he stuttered cutely.

“Here, come sit next to me,” you said as you scooted over. Jungkook sat next to you on the hospital bed. “Hold out your arms,” you instructed. He did just that. You gently placed the baby in his arms. “Make sure you support his head,” you pointed out. Jungkook adjusted his arms so that he was comfortable and the baby was comfortable. Your heart warmed at the sight of your two babies bonding.

Jungkook looked down at his face and immidiately fell in love. He looked just like Jungkook did when he was a baby. “Y/n,” he whispered, not wanting to disturb his son. “Yeah?”

“I want to name him Junghyun,” he muttered. You grinned. “I knew you would pick that one,” you said, chuckling to yourself. “I think it suits him,” you commented, using the pad of your thumb to gently rub the top of his head.

“Y/n?” Jungkook said once again.

“Yes, love?”

“Thank you. For this. Fatherhood,” he said, looking up at you. You smiled. “You’re going to be the best dad, Jungkook. I know it.”

#bts #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts reactions #bts drabbles #bts fanfic #bts dad #bts dad u #bts rm #bts namjoon #bts jin #bts jungkook #bts jimin #bts v #bts taehyung #bts yoongi #bts suga #bts jhope #bts hoseok

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wildefiction · 5 years

Text

Hunger: One

PAIRING: Jared x Reader

WORD COUNT: 4,558

CHAPTER(S): 1/?

SUMMARY: When reader isn't attending a Supernatural Convention, she's preparing for the next one. Staying busy is the only thing that keeps her sane. While it's difficult for some people to understand her motives, one person will show her that he knows exactly what she's going through. Will Jared be able to make the reader believe she deserves to be loved or is she too far gone already?

SERIES WARNINGS: While this first chapter has little in the way of warnings, future chapters may contain content difficult for some readers. Each chapter will be tagged appropriately but may contain topics such as: Mental health, severe depression, trust-issues, and abnormal psychology along with eventual forms of healing and discussions centered around relationships and support systems. Please heed the warnings for each individual chapter.

A/N: This is the first chapter of what I’m guessing will be a fairly long series. Originally I was going to try to tie this up in a neat little one-shot, but it’s just not going to happen. This was completed for @saxxxology‘s Plus Size Reader Challenge

“It’s called Alexithymia.” “Yeah, I don’t know - I’m just glad I’m not actually a sociopath.” “What? No I--fuck!” “Fuck these fucking pants!” The sleek metal phone slipped from its precarious position against your shoulder and fell to the floor with an ominous clatter. Closing your eyes in frustration, you filled your lungs with several deep breaths - in through your nose, out through your mouth.

In-out, in...out.

Rolling sideways from the mattress onto the floor and reaching a cautious hand towards the new device, you prayed to whatever God would listen that the screen was still intact. Opening one eye a fraction of an inch, a deep sigh of relief flooded your body as the smooth, black screen flashed once; the tinny voice echoing from the speakers prattling on as if nothing had gone awry.

Standing from the walnut floorboards, you turned to face the floor length mirror. While it had taken almost a decade, the wide, curving hips reflected in the glass had become the favorite part of your body. Only problem was, finding jeans that fit well was nearly impossible. “I need new pants.” Whining into the receiver, the woman on the other end of the phone simply snorted in amusement.

“Well if you’d spend more than twenty-dollars on your clothes, you’d have a helluva lot easier time finding ones that you liked.” “I’ve offered to take you shopping how many times?” Your best friend had a point. Focusing again on the phone call, you relented - one outfit couldn’t possibly cost that much, could it?

Two hours later, your arms rested atop a cool wooden counter; a scowl painted across your features while numbly holding out a metallic blue credit card. The woman behind the desk smiled brightly, faltering a bit when she had to wrestle the card from your grasp. Walking from the store with what felt like an entirely too-small-bag-for-the-amount-of-money-you-spent outfit, you joked about what else you could’ve done with that money.

Shaking her head in exasperation, your friend tried again to argue her point. “These clothes will last you a long time - the photo ops you so voluntarily throw your money at last all of - what? Ten seconds?!” Pushing one hand through the hair covering your eyes, you tried again to explain why you paid large sums of money for those ten-second interactions. Violet’s expression let you know that she still didn’t understand. Funny thing was, she’d been the one to introduce you to Supernatural in the first place. “Well this weekend you’ll be at the boys’ beck and call, so I think you spending the money here is worth it. Don’t they give you a free photo op for working anyhow? While far from glamorous, you’d been thrilled when the company hosting the event had accepted you as a volunteer. Rolling your eyes, you assured her (and, okay, yourself) that you likely wouldn’t even see any of the cast. Only seasoned help got to be handlers.

The rest of the week flew by, and Thursday afternoon found you trying (unsuccessfully) to clear the sting of sweat from your eyes while simultaneously carrying an arm full of poles and light posts. They’d put you on stage duty for the first day. Afterwards, you were pretty sure if you ever saw another velvet-backed chair again, it would be too soon. Two-thousand of them sat in neat rows filling the main theater room. “Alright [Y/F/N], could you please take these and label the seats?” Suddenly conscious of the slight tick in your right eye, you nodded silently - sliding the heavy rolls of numbered stickers over your wrists before walking to the end of the front row to begin your new assignment.

You don’t recall falling into bed Thursday night. The melodic voices of Rob and the boys from Louden Swain cut through your dreamless sleep far too early Friday morning. “Is it cool if I come over…”

Excitement warred with irritability while dressing in the new jeans you'd purchased the day before. The dark denim clung to your hips, the waistband taut once the button was fastened. “Woah! What. Is. This?!” Turning to the left and then the right, your mouth fell open in a soft “oh” - there was no gap! You'd never been able to find pants that fit both your hips and waist simultaneously. It was a miracle. Still - you weren't about to complain. Pulling the basic black volunteer tank top over your head, you slipped on the trusty pair of Chucks that had followed you to every convention over the last decade. Some people cherished a hat or a cozy flannel, for you - these shoes filled that spot.

“WHAT!?!” “What do you mean she’s not here today? How..what am I supposed to do?!” You’d been about to duck behind the heavy black drapes dressing the stage to report for your morning assignments when a familiar voice made you stop short. Derek, a fifty-something event planner was pacing just the other side of the divide, his simple brown loafers kicking up small torrents of dust with his agitation. Startled as the man threw open the curtains and stomped across the stage, you decided it was probably a better bet to find someone else to talk to about how you could help for the day. Turning, you were nearly through the opening and had started to descend the rickety metal staircase leading to the volunteer break-room when a heavy hand landed on your shoulder.

“ ‘Scuse me. You’re working here...yes?” Unexpected tension lanced through your body at the sudden contact and some part of you froze. As if he could feel it, Derek removed his hand rather quickly, absentmindedly shoving his ring-adorned fingers into the pocket of his slacks; the other hand busily scrolling through his phone; artificial light illuminating his tired, pale blue eyes. In your silent contemplation of the man, you’d failed to answer his question. “Ms…[Y/L/N] - right?” “Have you been assigned yet today?” With a slow shake of your head, his hand shot out of his pocket as he threw an arm around your shoulders - laughing heartily at something you’d missed. The mans face was jovial, faint creases of forehead wrinkles and crows’ feet framing his watery irises allowed you focus on what he was saying, rather than the pressure of his proximity.

“You’re savin’ mah bacon Miss [Y/L/N] - I tell ya what.”

The shrill screaming of his phone was sudden and briefly you felt bad for Derek. Raising the device to his ear, his body language calmed significantly; assuring the person on the other end that he’d found a replacement. A replacement for who, you still didn't know. Not that it was really any of your business. Nodding once, Derek turned back to you, sliding the small device into the clip on his belt.

Fishing into the pinstriped fabric of his pocket, he pulled a cluster of keys out. “Okay, take my car to this address” -- procuring a pen from his jacket, the man scribbled some notes onto a slip of paper; the handwriting sharp and messy -- “Have you got a phone?” Tentatively reaching into your back pocket, you slipped the oversized Samsung into your fingers. “Good! When you get there, call this number..” --more scribbling-- and bring everyone here.” “Let me know when you’re back.” Glancing at the unfamiliar handwriting, you squinted, trying to make out the address.

“Ms. [Y/L/N]..?” The impatient snapping of his fingers focused your attention on the man before you. “Please hurry - lots to do...lots to do!” With that he turned on his heel and hurried back through the curtained wall.

Although it was still well before noon, the parking lot held hundreds of vehicles, including two beautifully restored impalas. Sunlight glinted across the deep onyx paint as you walked by. The only clue to what car you searched for was a familiar gold emblem embossed on the black key fob clutched in your hands. Anxiety prickled along the base of your neck. You should've asked where Derek had parked. As your mind filled with every possible worse-case scenario, continually jamming your thumb to the unlock button prevailed when a flash of golden light several cars down caught your eye.

The engine roared to life with the press of the ignition, the lumbering bear of a Tahoe easing from it's reserved parking space as you wondered why anyone needed this large of a vehicle. Twenty minutes later, the truck settled into a quiet hum in front of a downtown hotel. Derek hadn't bothered to write a name on the paper he’d hastily scribbled upon, and you really had no idea who you were supposed to be collecting.

Craning your neck to see through the windshield, the immense hotel tower rose impossibly high before you; the steady ticking of scarlett hazard lights keeping time with the ringing as you waited for someone to answer.

The tall, revolving glass door caught your attention, several people clambering into the contraption at once made you smile; a generic voicemail message kicking on after the fourth ring. The group spilled from the door in a mess of laughter and a tangle of bodies.

Why you felt the need to duck behind the steering wheel upon recognizing them, you'll never know.

Rob, Rich, Briana, Kim and Billy were still laughing amongst themselves. Inside, you were happy the windows were tinted, as you were fairly certain you sat there with your mouth hanging open while you watched the group of friends wander over to talk to a street performer. Eyes darting to the clock on the dash, you quickly realized it'd been nearly an hour since Derek had sent you on this assignment.

Without looking away from the group, you tried the number again. The phone clicked and a cheerful voice answered with a giggly hello. Immediately you refocused on the task at hand, “Uh, hi. I think I'm supposed to be picking you up?” The mean bitch in your head snickered at how uncool you sounded.

“Scuse me, what was that?” A blush crept across your cheeks when you realized who you were talking to. Looking from your lap to the window, Rob stood halfway between his group of friends and where you were. Twisting and looking back over his shoulder, he must’ve put two and two together because he waved before beckoning the others to follow.

You weren’t prepared for this - you’d volunteered with the direct understanding that behind-the-scenes was where volunteers stayed. Occasionally one would bring the cast bottles of water or coffee, but picking them up at their hotel? Didn’t they have drivers for that? Your thoughts were cut short as three doors opened almost simultaneously and bodies began to climb in around you.

That had been the start to a whirlwind weekend. The Creation staff kept you on your toes constantly, although somehow Derek continued assigning tasks more cast-centered than had been expected. It started with picking up the Friday guests, sure - but since then you’d done everything from coffee runs to walking the ladies’ to the bathroom and photo-op room, to helping with the sound check for the concert currently taking place on stage.

Now in the green room, crouched in front of the mini-fridge, your mind wandered while removing water bottles from their thick plastic casing, stocking the shelves for the guests.

A faint beeping and the murmur of voices caught your attention as the door opened across from you. Osric, Clif, Jensen and Jared sauntered in, lost in their own conversation. A familiar prickling sensation that often assaulted you in new situations made your shoulders tense. Luckily, the repeated exposure to the guests this weekend had given you plenty of practice to collect your emotions quickly; stuffing them into the deepest recesses of your mind.

A few breaths later, you stood from the position on the floor, a large smile plastered across your features as you approached the small group.

“Hey guys, anyone need a drink?” Osric smiled widely and accepted one of the chilled bottles. The others followed suit, Jared’s eyebrows furrowing slightly in concern as his fingers closed over yours.

“Hey, thanks…” “What’s your name?” Your eyes darted between his brilliant hazel irises and the long fingers wrapped around the drink; beads of condensation wetting your skin as his hand rested on yours.

Hurriedly pulling away, you scrubbed a palm against the denim of your jeans before extending it and introducing yourself.

“Hey, I’m [Y/F/N].” The others said their hellos as well, your gaze shifting between them while they chatted animatedly for a few moments. Occupied as you were, you failed to notice that Jared didn’t take his eyes off of you for even a moment.

She was nervous. Not that he wasn’t used to the look. But this one was different, Jared decided. He recognized the determination to hide her anxiety as something he’d gone through as well. He could see she was excited to meet them, and yet, she held back; likely protecting a small part of who she really was as she presented the version of herself she wanted everyone to see. While genuinely happy to interact with all of his fans, Jared felt intrigued by [Y/F/N]. He wanted to know more about her. About the discomfort she tried her best to disguise as nerves. Something was off.

Crossing her arms over her chest while making small talk with the others, Jared noticed how proficient she was at distributing her attention to each of them equally, pausing for only a moment before looking to the next person.

Releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, Jared turned his attention to the door, having opened for a second time; watching as Rich strode in, beckoning to Jensen.

“C’mon man, your public awaits.” He bowed dramatically, waffling his hand in the space before him. Jensen huffed, shaking his head as he clasped Rich’s shoulder, following him from the room. [Y/F/N] trailed along behind them and Jared allowed himself to take a longer look at the woman. The tank top she wore clung to her body, the curve of her full breasts and thick waist led his eyes to her hips.

“Damn.”

The word of admiration was muttered under his breath, but as he focused on her face again, the pink in her cheeks made it clear she’d heard him.

“You coming Jared?” She’d stopped, holding the door open for him. Nodding, he quickened his stride and disappeared into the darkened hallway as he headed for the holding area backstage.

If Saturday had been busy, Sunday was borderline chaotic.

Attendance surged for the final day of the convention. Awake earlier, you were due to report in by 6:30 even though the first panel wasn’t due to begin until noon.

Shuffling through the abandoned corridors of the hotel, you could only hope there’d be caffeine waiting at the check-in station.

“Good morning Ms. [Y/L/N].” Blinking several times in rapid succession, you focused on Derek as he sat behind the assignment table. The quiet murmur of his voice as he looked over the sheaf of papers laid out before him only partially registered in your mind.

The concert the night before had been amazing, and you’d been up until the early hours of the morning from the level of energy you’d absorbed. It didn’t help that a certain phrase kept replaying in your mind. You’d definitely heard Jared last night and you liked to imagine he’d been talking about you. The thought brought a smile to your face, regardless of how absurd the notion was. While pretty sure he likely had some gorgeous girlfriend waiting for him back home, you were content with the small amount of time you did get to spend around Jared. Silent pining was more your style anyhow.

“...order.” “Ms. [Y/L/N]?” Snapping out of your daydream, you worked harder to listen to the man in front of you.

“I’m sorry...what was that?” The middle-aged man smiled kindly.

“I know it’s early Ms. [Y/L/N], but we really need you to be completely present at these briefings. Otherwise, the chaos about to descend on this place will be ten-times worse.” Shifting oversized reading glasses from where they’d fallen down the bridge of his nose, the man cleared his throat, consulting the Sunday schedule. Finished with his admonishment, Derek held a slip of paper out to you.

“As I was saying, please grab the coffee order for the cast. It’ll be ready precisely at 9:50. That should give you enough time to get back upstairs so everyone can get their daily dose of caffeine.” “Until then, make sure the green room has plenty of breakfast items and if the cast need anything, it’s on you to make them happy.”

Derek’s last sentence drew your attention from the list you’d been perusing. Outwardly, you nodded so he’d know you were paying attention, even though you still struggled with the personal Hell that came with sleep deprivation.

Later that morning, as you stood in line at the bustling Starbucks just outside the hotel, your mind once again turned to thoughts of the cast. Although you were tired, you wouldn’t change these experiences for the world.

As silly as it seemed, these conventions had gone a long way to helping prevent you from falling into your depression. In-between event weekends you often busied yourself with planning the next one and it got you through each day. It was refreshing to see mental health being addressed more by the media. When you’d been diagnosed several years prior, only your doctor had believed it was a real thing.

Walking up to the waist-high counter and pulling the folded paper from your back pocket, you began to list the order scribbled upon it. At one point, squinting your eyes in an attempt to read Derek’s handwriting you gave up and handed the barista the list, hoping she’d be able to help discern it.

“Maybe I can help?” Clutching the paper, you raised your eyes to the woman in front of you. She stilled as a hand reached over your shoulder and gently took the list from your grasp. Breathing deep, you turned to find Jared standing behind you, long strands of auburn hair falling across his face while he perused the handwriting.

Shifting to stand next to Jared’s tall frame, you took a moment to point at the line you were having trouble with. His body was like a heater, the intoxicating scent of his cologne made all the more apparent by the warmth of his skin.

Jared brought the paper closer to his face, squinting at a particular cluster of letters.

“I..think that says...skinny?” Glancing at the rest of the scribbled letters, he was able to make out the order for a non-fat soy latte. “Huh, I didn’t know Mark was here today.” Shrugging, his eyes flicked up to yours; an easy smile replacing the serious expression he’d worn moments before. “Did you get everything okay?” Nodding, the young woman behind the register added up the total while you handed her your credit card.

Moving to the end of the counter to await the several drinks, you turned to the man behind you. “My hero.” The smirk on your face was genuine, even if your tone erred on the side of sarcasm.

“Hey, no problem [Y/F/N].” God, the way he said your name… Clearing your throat as you settled against the far wall, you did your best to continue the conversation.

“Why are you up so early?” “Figured you’d be sleeping while you could.” Jared shrugged his massive shoulders before answering.

“Went for a run. Couldn’t sleep.” You wanted to ask why. You wanted to ask a lot of things, but instead you kept to yourself. He likely had his reasons, and you’d be willing to bet - if he was anything like you, that he wasn’t keen on sharing the details of his life with a relative stranger. Nodding in understanding, you turned back to the counter, gathering the three drink trays and rearranging the cups so each carrier held the same size. Stacking the grandes atop the venti order, you slid the coffees into one hand, grabbing the third tray with your free arm.

“I can carry one if you want..” Jared was at your side again, talking to you as if he wasn’t a gorgeous, successful actor with his own security detail. Speaking of which, where was Clif?

“Uh, nah..I’m okay.” Scoffing, the man saw right through your feeble attempt to decline. Removing the top tray from where it rested under your chin and taking the second one as well, he simply smiled. “Lead the way [Y/F/N].”

There was something about her that occupied Jared’s thoughts. She was strong, sure of herself (or so it seemed) and gracious. He wanted to know more. “So, [Y/F/N] where are you from?”

The chill bite of a fall day in the Pacific Northwest swirled around your body when the two of you stepped from the relatively warm coffee shop. Breath fogging in the early morning air, the small-talk you made with Jared as you crossed the street to the hotel gave you a small look inside the finer points of Austin, his hobbies and the show. Back in the green room, you passed out drinks to their respective owners, everyone murmuring their appreciation to you for your efforts. Pulling the phone from your back pocket and realizing it was nearly time for the Sunday morning gold panel, you ushered Jared and Jensen out the door as politely as you could.

Grabbing two mics from the table set-up behind the stage curtains, you handed one to each of the boys and turned to leave. Jared’s hand on your shoulder made you freeze momentarily, more out of habit than anything. Apparently it didn’t matter who it was, the discomfort of being touched still prevailed.

“Thanks for the chat [Y/F/N], we’ll talk more later?” Searching his face for any hint of what was going through his mind, you nodded numbly. A wide smile spread across his face as he squeezed your shoulder before turning and taking the stairs two at a time. Wild cheers assaulted your ears as the gold members screamed for their first panel of the day.

The voices of Rob and Rich joking with Jensen buzzed in Jared’s ear, but his thoughts were still on [Y/F/N]. She’d flinched when he had touched her shoulder. Whatever made her react that way, he hoped it was something she’d be willing to talk to him about. For the hundreds of people who thanked him on a daily basis for noticing their struggles and standing in solidarity with them, he knew there were many others who couldn’t bring themselves to share.

Before you realized it, the afternoon autograph sessions were scheduled to start. Walking through the main theater hall, your most recent task was simple enough: Provide each of the guests with a handful of colorful sharpies at their table. The headphones connected to the phone in your pocket piped Swain music into your ears and you danced happily while completing the mundane task. You’d do this job full-time if you could.

“Oh, there you are!” Turning abruptly, you pulled the cords from your ears, effectively silencing the indie rock as Derek strode up to you.

“Ms. [Y/L/N], did you receive my text message? You’re wanted in Adam’s office as soon as possible!” His blue eyes searched yours frantically, even while you became acutely aware of your quickening heartbeat.

“Oh, uhm..do you know why?” The man shook his head as he hurried away, staring intently at the clipboard clutched in his hands. A million scenarios chased themselves through your mind; the least of which involved the numerous bottles of tums you were sure Derek consumed regularly. Walking through the side doors and turning down the long hallway where the convention offices were set up, you busied yourself with the pattern beneath your feet. There were fifty-two blue diamonds set into the grey carpet between the main theater and Adam’s office. After several deep breaths, you squared your shoulders and rose your fist to knock on the oak door. The sound of a chair tracking across the floor echoed from behind the barrier and when the door opened, you were surprised to see the man still sitting.

“Ah, Ms. [Y/L/N], do come in.” Following him inside, you paused to close the door at Adam’s insistence.

“Ms. [Y/L/N], it appears we need to have a chat.” Shifting uneasily just inside the door, you tried to still the worried thoughts still cavorting in your subconscious.

“Is something wrong sir?” Adam barked out a laugh and you were disappointed when you jumped at his tone.

“Quite, the opposite actually.” The man still sat in the office chair, his head thrown back as it swirled in lazy circles. “We’ve had a request to add you to our permanent staff.” He said it as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Furrowing your brows, you tried to think of a reason why, or, for that matter who’d sent such a request. Sure, you had thought about talking to Adam about the possibility, but you hadn’t made any solid plans to do so.

“Can I ask by who?” Maybe Derek? I mean, he’s really the only staff member I’ve interacted with on a regular basis this weekend. Stephanie perhaps? Adam chuckled to himself and shook his head, his eyes bright.

“Mr. Padalecki has asked for you personally.” Of all the people you thought might’ve suggested it, Jared certainly hadn’t even come close to making the list. You were quiet as you absorbed the information. Looking up at Adam as his chair lazily swayed behind the card-table turned makeshift desk, you cleared your throat.

“Did he...did he say...why?” The little conversation you’d had with Jared this weekend had been pleasant enough, but you couldn’t think of a single reason why he’d make such a request.

“We discussed it.” “Suffice it to say he is impressed with your dedication to the job.” “This opportunity doesn’t present itself often Ms. [Y/F/N], strictly because exactly zero personal requests have occurred. Like, ever. I’ve been doing this a long, long time...and this is a first.” “Usually we staff the more experienced volunteers as handlers, it just so happened that our senior team member bowed out with the flu this weekend and you were the first person Derek saw upon finding out.” “Simply a ‘right place at the right time’ kind of scenario.” “Jared came to me earlier today after his gold panel and asked about you.” Shrugging, the black suit jacket he’d pulled on over his grey t-shirt bunched at the seams. “That’s all I know.” “Think about it Ms. [Y/L/N].” Nodding slowly, you turned, grabbing the overly shiny brass door handle to let yourself out.

“Oh, and [Y/F/N]?” Looking back over your shoulder at Adam as he started gathering papers together, you paused; “Jared’s about to start his autographing sessions, I suggest you make haste.”

CHAPTER TWO

TAGS: @jaredsunflowergoddess @arses21434 @wings-of-a-raven @jamielea81

#wildefiction #Jared Padalecki x Reader #Jared Padalecki #SPN x RPF

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kookiesspacebuns · 6 years

Text

Suite 114 | Pt. 1 | ((ON HOLD))

■ pairing: Jimin x Female OC

■ genre/warnings: fluff, angst, eventual smut

■ words: 6k

■ summary: An innocent staring contest leads to a not so innocent relationship.

As soon as the clock ticks 7pm, I throw the last batch of cupcakes I was frosting into the large, industrial-sized refrigerator and let the door slam shut. The loud noise makes me cringe.

I hope my manager didn’t hear that.

Yanking off my apron, I walk to the lunch room and hang it with the others on the wall. My boss, Isa, already knew I was leaving 2 hrs early today but I still poked my head into her office to let her know I was leaving. She responded with a soft smile and ‘Have fun!’ before returning to her paperwork. I was beyond lucky to find such a nice job AND the sweetest boss in the world. Most head bakers in the city were rude, with no care for any of their employees’ feelings. Especially to people like me, who had zero experience.

After 4 years in college for culinary arts, I thought finding work would be easy, but I was wrong. 21 years old and jobless made it difficult to live in the city, but thankfully this job was practically thrown into my lap 3 months ago. How many people can say they were hired through Instagram? I guess all of those perfectly staged photos of desserts I’d upload weren’t a waste of time like everyone used to tell me they were.

A loud honk let’s me know that my ride is here. I look out the front window of the bakery and see my friend, Mina, bouncing in anticipation in the driver’s seat of her car. She’s waving at me to come out with a hurried expression on her face. I quickly turn the shop’s ‘OPEN’ sign on the front door to ‘CLOSED’ and walk out, locking the door behind me. The instant the door latches closed, my heart begins pumping wildly. Adrenaline rushes throughout my body as I run to the passenger side of the car, smiling like a little girl. I practically fall into the seat before shutting the door and buckling myself in.

Mina looks at me as if in shock, “We’re going to meet the most handsome men in the world and you’re wearing….that.” She glares at my shirt.

My eyes follow hers to my soft pink colored blouse with a white peter pan collar. “I forgot to bring a change of clothes this morning. We don’t have time to stop by my place for me to change. So this is what I have to deal with.” I frown.

“Oh no. You are not going to approach your future husband looking like a maid.” She says, almost sarcastically.

My hand goes to cover my heart, pretending I’m hurt by her words. “What if Park Jimin has a maid fetish? You never know.” I purse my lips and try not to laugh, secretly hoping he does have that fetish.

She bursts out laughing and puts the car into gear before taking off. “Well, at least you don’t have to wear those ugly leather shoes you have on.” I glance down at my work shoes. “Because I love you, I brought the converse you left at my house last week. They’re in the back.” She points a finger over her right shoulder towards the back seat.

“Oh my God Mina. You’re the best! I totally forgot I had left those at your house.” I turn in my seat to look for my shoes in the back. They weren’t that easy to find, buried underneath 3 different sweaters and tons of books. I grab them and start to turn around when I spot a black sweater folded neatly on the seat.

“What’s this black sweater for?” I ask.

“Oh, I ordered it online but its it’s a little too big for me. It’s supposed to be oversized, but it’s way too oversized.” She shrugs. I raise one eyebrow and look at her small frame in the seat. She always wears super fitted clothing so the sweater probably isn’t as big as she’s making it out to be. “I have to return it when I get a chance.”

My mind won’t let me get rid of the curiosity about the sweater, so I grab it and open it up in front of me. It feels extremely soft in my hands and the knitted fabric gives easily. Almost all of it is black except for two thick white stripes going across the arms and chest. I instantly fall in love with it.

“I love it, Mina.” I hug it to my chest to show her how much I love it. She shakes her head and laughs at me. “Pleeeeeeeeease let me wear it tonight. Please.” I flash her my best puppy dog eyes.

“Really Anna? You know that doesnt work on me,” my facial expression falls back into place. “You can have it if you like it that much. It can be a super early birthday gift.”

“Awe! Thank you Mina!” My arms awkwardly wrap halfway around her torso in a makeshift hug. She playfully pushes me off of her.

“No problem, girly.”

I slip my arms into the sweater and over my head, pulling it down into place. It fits as perfectly as an oversized sweater can fit, hanging loosely on my sides and reaching almost past my bottom. Sighing contentedly, I reach down to change out of my ugly work shoes and into my black high tops. My feet slipping into my favorite shoes comfortably.

My pink socks, the only item I love from my work uniform, stop right below my knees. The grey pleated skirt touching halfway down my thighs, showing just the right amount of skin.

‘I must look like a school slacker in this outfit.’ I think to myself as I release my hair from its constricting bun and let my long chestnut curls fall down my back.

Mina breaks the short silence with a high pitched squeal. “I can’t believe we’re about to touch BTS. Anna! Are you wrapping your head around this!?” She voices loudly.

My eyes widen out of excitement. “No, I’m not wrapping my head around it fully. It probably won’t even hit me until after we’ve shaken their hands.” We both whine in unison. “I can’t believe that we spent 200 dollars just to touch them. What were we thinking?!”

“I think we were letting our hormones guide us. I just…can’t give up the chance to touch Namjoon’s hand. Anna! Oh my gosh!!!! We’re almost there.” She starts shaking in her seat and fanning her face with one hand. “I don’t know if I’m ready.”

I raise one eyebrow in her direction. Calm down Mina. It’s just a hand.

A really beautiful hand…

Oh my…I’m about to touch Jimin’s hands.

His delicate fingers are going to wrap around mine……I bet they are so smooth.

I bet his lips are smooth too….

I clench my eyes shut and cover my face with both of my hands, trying to clear my mind and keep myself from freaking out like my current chauffeur is doing. Mina is practically hyperventilating in my ear, making it hard for me to calm down.

“Mina! Pay attention to the road! We have to make it there without crashing before we can touch them. Okay?!” I say as calm as I can, even though my insides are as worked up as Mina’s.

It would be a horrible death, crashing on the way to a BTS fan meet. Leaving this world before meeting the man that fuels my, mostly naughty, dreams at night. He would see the news of our car crash not even knowing how much he drove my insides crazy. Tragic. Imagining how soft his hands feel is enough to satisfy me for the rest of my life….and enough to have me squeezing my thighs together right now.

You are in so deep, Anna.

Arriving at the convention center, I immediately regret not just taking the day off. The line to get in is beyond ridiculous. At least 200 fans are waiting, in a barely-moving line, trailing all the way down the street. Thankfully as we pass by the front entrance, we notice a separate line with a sign that says ‘VIP Ticket Holders’, which is what we spent a fortune on wondering if it would be worth it or not.

Mina and I speak in unison, “Definitely worth it.” We look at each other and screech.

We park and practically run to the VIP line. Only six other people are in front of us and our line is moving rather fast. I look to my side at Mina who is fixing her makeup in a little pocket mirror, then glance around to see that almost every other girl is doing the same. I grab my lip moisturizer from my little black backpack and apply it slowly while still observing everyone else. Should I have worn makeup? I could count on both hands how many times I’ve worn makeup in my life. I think its it’s mostly laziness that keeps me from even giving it a chance. I still keep a little bag of essentials at home, in case I have to go somewhere formal.

It starts to sprinkle, which makes the ticket holders work a little faster. We enter the building and rush over to the table where they keep all of the extra goodies that are included in our VIP package. One of the ladies hands me a paper-sized photo for the autographs, an army bomb keychain, a pack of 3D stickers, and of course, my VIP lanyard. The main reason we paid for VIP tickets was to participate in the new activity they introduced for this meet. Apparently, we’ll get a random surprise action we get to do with one BTS member. I’ve heard rumors of selfies and serenades, but serenades seem too good to be true. I hope it is true though. I put the lanyard around my neck and follow Mina into the main room filled with seats.

Taking up most of the room are hundreds of folding chairs arranged so that there’s one big aisle down the middle leading to the stage. On the stage is a long table covered in a black tablecloth. Seven glass bowls filled with what looks like folded pieces of paper are evenly spread along the table top. Behind the table is a big screen covering most of the wall, the rest concealed by long, red velvet curtains.

Mina grabs my hand and drags me to the closest seats we can find, which is in the 3rd row on the left side. We maneuver past other fans already sitting down to two empty seats in the middle of the row. Once seated, we take out all of our new goodies and fangirl over them like everyone around us is doing too. I keep staring at Jimin’s beautiful face in the photo we were given. Mina, doesn’t stop talking about how sexy Namjoon is in his black choker necklace he’s wearing in the photo.

After about half an hour the room is completely full and buzzing with the voices of fangirls and fanboys. I’m almost to the point of putting earphones in to block out all of the noise when the lights dim and someone approaches the microphone on the corner of the stage. As the man speaks, he welcomes us to the fan meet and lists the rules we must follow. No unsolicited touching. No screaming in their faces. No kissing. No gifts. No sharing of personal information. And no pushing.

Some in the crowd groan as he finishes saying the rules. When he speaks again, everyone quiets down. “Today we are testing a new activity that’s never been done before. On the table there are 7 bowls filled with slips of paper. Inside each piece of paper there is a random activity that can be done with that corresponding member. This activity is only available to the VIP ticket holders and can only be done for one member, so choose wisely!”

With that, the noise in the room reaches the loudest it’s been so far. Everyone around us loudly discusses what they think the activities are, ignoring the speaker who is trying to recapture the crowd’s attention.

He finally finishes talking and introduces BTS, causing what feels like the whole building to shake as everyone stands up and screams. Namjoon comes out first in the line and Mina grips my arm as she jumps up and down, screaming beside me. The rest of the members file out after him and stand at the front of the stage to introduce themselves one by one, finishing with a bow.

My heart skips a few beats at the sight of Jimin. A smile is plastered to his handsome face and his dark hair is parted to the side, showing just enough of his forehead. Even the way the way he bows makes me scream internally.

They take their seats behind the table and smile at the crowd while giving finger hearts and arm hearts. Jimin does a big heart with his arms and screams, “I love you AMI!”. My heart explodes in my chest at his absolute cuteness.

Now I’m the one acting crazy.

My cheeks flush red and I jump up on my tippy toes to get a better look at him.

Why am I so short?

I can’t control the pout on my face when I fail at getting a better view. The thought of standing on my chair crosses my mind many times throughout the meet. There were several times when the crowd would go wild and I couldn’t even see what happened. Mina is no help either beside me screaming her head off. Thankfully the girls in front of me sit down halfway through, allowing me to finally enjoy myself.

When the time comes to start forming the line to go onto the stage, my nerves are through the roof. Fans are pushing each other and cutting in line, despite being told to line up in the order we were seated. We wait in line, chatting nervously while watching the members sign things and shake hands with other fans. One girl selects a piece of paper from the bowl in front of Jungkook and immediately screams. When she shows Jungkook the paper, he smiles and gets up to lean over the table. The girl takes out her phone and snaps a selfie with Jungkook as he rests his head on her shoulder and holds up a peace sign. My insides do somersaults just imagining taking a picture like that with Jimin.

Many others in front of us pick out slips from the bowls of whichever member they want, each time squealing and screaming as they read the paper; their screams making my nerves worse each time. So far I’ve only seen people receive selfies and kisses on the hand.

There’s got to be more than those two right?

Once we’re up on the stage, I tell Mina to go before me. She obliges and giddily moves in front of me. I watch her with a racing heart shake J-hope’s hand and tell him how much she loves him. He responds with ‘I love you too’ and flashes her a huge grin before holding his arms out towards her. They hug as I stare at them open-mouthed.

This lucky bitch.

He signs her photo and moves on, giving space for me to approach. He laughs at the incredulous look on my face and reaches his hand out the shake mine.

Oh my gosh, I’m touching Hobi.

His hands are rough….

But also so warm.

I blurt out, “You have a beautiful personality.” He blushes slightly.

“Thank you.” he says.

I hand him my picture to sign. “No, thank you!”

I scrunch my face, cringing at my awkwardness.

Well, it wasn’t a lie…

I hope he doesn’t think I’m weird.

I take my picture and move on to the next few members, trying not to talk too much and embarrass myself. First Tae, then onto Jungkook sitting right next to him. He has his arm around Tae’s shoulder.

Taekook confirmed?

Next is Yoongi who is as chill as ever, leaning back in his chair smiling as I approach him. I slide him the picture and say, “Your lyrics have helped me through so many hard times in my life.”

He sits up and smiles brightly at me. “Thank you so much.” he responds.

I know Namjoon is next just by the high pitched squeal coming from Mina’s direction. I look over at her as Yoongi signs my picture. Namjoon is laughing hard at her reaction and points to the bowl of papers in front of him. Her eyes go wide and she hurriedly reaches in to grab one, then lifts it to read.

“Selca!!!!” she says a little louder than necessary. Namjoon mouths ‘Ahh’ and leans over the table to take a selfie with her. He holds fingers up behind her head, making her face turn beet red. I hear the shutter noise at least 5 times before he sits back down.

Yoongi is still holding the photo and enjoying the show next to us. I reach for it and say, “Thank you.” He smiles and waves.

I barely even register Namjoon speaking to me because of the fact that Jimin is sitting right next to him, and Mina is handing him her picture.

Holy shit.

Namjoon waves his hands widely in front of my face, causing Jimin to notice and look over at me. Our eyes meet and my heart stops beating. He smiles at me.

Holy crap. Calm down heart.

I turn my head to look at Namjoon quickly. He’s shaking his head and grinning with one side of his mouth.

Fuck, I hope I didn’t offend him.

“I’m so sorry.” I apologize quickly and hand him my photo. He takes it and starts autographing it.

“No worries.” he says before handing it back. I grab it and practically bend it with how tense my fingers are, trying to suppress my growing nervousness.

Mina grabs my hand, pulling me out of my trance, and practically yanks me to stand in front of Jimin. She must know how jumbled up my insides are.

Jimin is gazing at me with raised eyebrows when I finally look up at him. His plump lips pursed together as if he’s trying not to smile. I stare at them for a whole second too long and lay my photo on the table in front of me.

My mind goes completely blank, “Ahhh……”

“I love your bracelet.” he says.

What?

Out of instinct I grab my right wrist with my other hand and look down at it. My silver chain bracelet with a single chimmy charm hangs loosely around my wrist.

Duh….how could I forget?

“Uhh…..thank you!” I spit out awkwardly.

Shit. He has to know now that he’s my bias…

I make eye contact with him a few times before I remember the bowl in front of him. He sees me glance at it and pushes it towards me on the table.

Smiling, I reach in and grab a piece of paper hoping it will be something that will help break me out of this awkward situation I am in with Jimin. Park. Jimin. I mentally cross my fingers and open the slip.

I furrow my eyebrows at what it says and hesitantly look at Jimin’s eyes watching me intently. My mouth opens slightly.

“Staring contest?” I say questioningly.

His face immediately lights up and a blinding smile spreads across it. “I wasn’t expecting that!” he exclaims.

A quiet giggle escapes my lips, “Me either..”

Jimin laughs at my confused face and reaches out to grab both of my hands. My heart flutters wildly in my chest at the sensation of his skin grazing mine.

Ahhhhh.

He’s….touching me.

I hold my breath and try to savor the feeling of his soft hands on mine, locking it in my memories for later reference.

“Are you ready?” he tilts his head and raises his eyebrows, waiting for me to respond.

I’ll never be ready…

“Yes.” I respond, barely above a whisper.

He grabs both of my hands tighter and runs his thumb on the back my left hand. My soul leaves my body as he bites one side of his bottom lip.

I’m not gonna survive this at all.

He licks his lips, “Okay…..Go!”

Our staring contest comenses.

I try not to think about how dumb my face looks right now, my eyes wide open trying not to blink and my mouth open as well, concentrating as hard as I can. Those deep brown eyes staring back at me widen and come closer.

He wiggles his eyebrows trying to get me to break, but I hold steady and bite my lip hard to withhold from breaking eye contact.

When he lowers his head slightly so that he’s gazing up at me under low lids I feel heat surge to my cheeks and unwillingly to my core.

Oh my God. This is actually turning me on.

My cheeks grow even more red with the thought of being turned on by Jimin…..right in front of him as he watches me.

I notice him moving slightly in his seat before he let’s go of one of my hands and puts it under the table, out of view. My heart drops at the loss of his warm hand but he repays me with a quick slip of his tongue over his lips, then pulls his bottom lip into his mouth, sucking on it lightly.

I accidently let out a barely audible groan, but it must have been loud enough for him to hear because his eyes immediately go wide and he lets loose of the tight hold he has on his lip. A slow smile creeps across his face. It’s as if he knows how he’s affecting me with those eyes and mouth of his. If only he knew how much they did affect me most nights….

I feel my hand being turned so that my palm is facing up, then his finger sliding from my wrist all the way to the tip of my middle finger, sending little shocks up my arm and through my body. I almost look down at what he’s doing, but I mentally catch myself. I honestly don’t know how much more of this I can handle.

My lower abdomen is tight and tingling when he separates his lush lips and runs his tongue over them slowly and sensually. I blink rapidly and inhale a harsh breath before covering my face with both of my hands and whining into them.

Fuck. I lost.

It was well worth it though.

A beautiful and heartwarming laugh makes me uncover my face and look my victor in the eyes. I pout my lips, pretending I’m upset. Which is honestly far from the truth. I’d gladly lose 100 times over just to see him lick his lips like that again, despite the embarrassment on my side.

He has a cocky grin on his face when he says, “I won.”

So much blood rushes to my face that I feel faint for a moment. I’ve never been attracted to cockiness up until this point.

“Yeah…that wasn’t fair at all to me though!” I respond.

“Why?” he asks with a quizzical look.

Really?

“You can’t expect me to not crack when you’re making those types of faces at me.” I cringe inwardly realizing that I basically just confessed how much his actions really affected me.

He smirks again, “What types of faces?”

My eyes go big.

Wow.

“You….uhh.” I look away for a split second then turn back shaking my head. “Nevermind.”

“Come on,” he laughs.

I start to reply but stop when I see Namjoon nudging Jimin in his side to get his attention.

“You’re holding up the line.” he tells him.

I glance to my left to see that everyone in front of me has already gotten off stage and gone back to their seats. Jin is sitting to the left of Jimin, staring open-mouthed at me.

Holy crap.

He must’ve been watching everything transpiring between Jimin and I. I now have a permanent blush on my cheeks. I smile softly at him and turn back to face Jimin when I hear him speak.

“What’s your name?” he holds out his hand in front of me.

Does he want to hold my hand again?

“Don’t you have a picture for me to sign?” he says in his soft voice.

“Oh! Yeah!” I hand him the photo to sign.

“So, what’s your name?” he smiles.

“Uh. ah…..Anna.”

“Anna..” he repeats it back to me softly. My name falling off his lips like a treasured word, making my heart squeeze. His hand moves across the picture gracefully as he signs it.

The noise of the rest of the room starts getting loud again. I look to my right to see the next two girls behind me glaring daggers my way.

Geez…

Jimin is still writing as I look away from the girls’ harsh stares. How extravagant must his signature be if he’s taking this long? Maybe he’s writing a cute message for me too?

Just as I start to really question how much longer he’s going to take, he finishes and swiftly hands me the photo.

“Bye.” he says grinning.

This boy and his smiling.

I smile back and wave goodbye before moving on to Jin. He says hi and takes the picture from my hands, giving me the final signature I need. I watch him look for an empty space to sign, his eyes searching the photo before widening and looking up at me fast.

What?

I raise one eyebrow out of habit.

What’s wrong with him?

He looks back down and quickly signs his name before handing it back to me. I grab it slowly and pull it to my chest, wondering why he’s acting so strange.

“Thank you.” I say and head back to my seat.

When I reach my seat, Mina is staring at me as if she were looking at a ghost.

“What!?….What is it?” I ask, thinking there must be something wrong with my hair or maybe something stuck in my teeth. Panic seizes my chest as I think of how that could be why Jin was staring at me so surprised.

I sit down in my seat and continue watching her, waiting for her to answer me. “Mina, what?” She looks around us, causing me to follow suit. Everyone close to us is either openly glaring or trying to act like they aren’t.

“People keep talking about ‘the girl holding up the line’"

I look back up on stage to see who shes talking about when it registers that it was me. I AM the girls who was holding up the line.

Oh God.

“Umm….how long was I up there?” I ask.

“Well, I’ve been back in my seat for almost five minutes now.”

“Five minutes!?”

She nods her head. Everyone must be mad that I was at the table longer…..Oh well. I shake my head and sit back. I try to enjoy the rest of the event and pretend I don’t feel everyone staring at me.

Watching the rest of the fans finish up on stage, I can’t help but glance at Jimin every once in a while. Unexpectedly he’s looking right at me when I look over at him around the fifth time. I freeze, not being able to break eye contact with him. Soon another fan goes up to him and he looks away.

It’s not that I don’t want him to look at me, it’s just that it feels like I can’t breathe every time he does.

We make eye contact a few more times before I decide to stop looking his way.

I feel a tap on my shoulder. “Hey, I have to go to the bathroom….I’ll be right back.” Mina whispers.

“Okay.”

The crowd starts screaming and some stand up as soon as Mina leaves the row. I look over in the direction where everyones looking to see two girls taking pictures with Jungkook and Tae.

I wish I could’ve gotten a picture with Jimin.

Subconsciously, my eyes look over at Jimin. He’s relaxed, leaning back in his chair and staring right at me. It’s not a friendly stare, more like a dark stare. He glances around him then holds a picture up in front if him and points at it.

I furrow my brows and look down at the signed picture in my lap. I totally forgot to look at it after everyone signed it. Lifting it up, I glance over everyones signature until I get to jimins.

But its it’s not just a signature…

He wrote my name with hearts on either side followed by his beautiful signature. Underneath is smaller writing. I bring it closer to make out what it says and my heart drops into my stomach.

There’s a hotel name….and a suite number.

Suite 114.

What?

Suite 114….

HOLY FUCKING SHIT.

I know he’s watching me from the tingle I feel on the back of my neck. For sure he’s laughing at my reaction to seeing what he wrote. I’m not even sure if this is real. Is he serious? Is this a joke? Why would Park Jimin want me to know where he is staying?

My stomach heats up just thinking of the things that could happen in that hotel room. Things that I’ve dreamt of many times….

But he might not be thinking that way…..

The tingling feeling is gone so I peek up at him while still keeping my head down. Thankfully he’s signing a photo and not staring me down, making me feel nervous. I can’t take my eyes off of the way his dark hair falls in front of his face. He runs his hand through those black locks and hands the fan her picture, returning his gaze to me once again.

My heart is beating three times faster than it should be as I stare back, not having the mental strength to look away. He flashes me a devilish smile and licks those plump, pink lips once again.

He definitely doesn’t want to just have tea with me in that hotel room…

As hard as it is, I avoid looking towards his end of the table for the rest of the meet. It eventually ends and all of the members of BTS bow and exit the room. The crowd is enormous and it is complete HELL leaving the building, and even worse leaving the parking lot.

We manage to make it back to my apartment around midnight. It should’ve only taken us half an hour to get there, but instead it took two.

On the drive home I told Mina everything that happened between me and Jimin in excruciating detail. She started crying as I described the encounter. To be honest I’m not sure why I’m not crying as well. My ultimate bias wants me to meet him in his hotel room. It’s like I’m living in a fucking fan fiction! Mina didn’t believe it was true until I took out my picture and showed her, which probably wasn’t the best idea seeing as she almost drove off of the road after looking at it.

We walk up the steps to my door and enter my apartment. Well, me and my sister’s apartment. I share one with her for financial reasons. And besides Mina, she’s my best friend.

Mina is grabbing onto my arm as we enter, talking rapidly about whether Jimin could introduce her to Namjoon or not. My sister is sprawled out on the couch half asleep when we walk in and turn the lights on. Mina immediately runs over and throws herself down beside her, grabbing her shoulders. She takes a deep breath before spilling the news.

“Guess who got Jimin’s hotel room number!?” she practically yells in my sisters face.

My sister, Vee, dramatically rubs her eyes and turns to look at me. “NO…You didn’t!” I see her eyes sparkling. I can tell she’s about to freak out like Mina and join in on her bouncing from wall to wall in excitement.

I sigh, “Yeah….” I cover my ears to protect them from the glass-shattering scream my sister releases. She grabs Mina’s hands and they jump around the room like excited children.

Why am I so annoyed by this?

My thoughts are all over the place, my mind almost not even believing I’m awake right now. For some reason, seeing my sister and best friend flipping out makes me want to lock myself in my room. Maybe I just need time to comprehend it all.

I turn, heading in the direction of my room. I make it halfway down the hall before my sister grabs me and pulls me back towards the living room.

“Wait. Why aren’t you freaking out, Anna?” she asks me.

“I don’t know….I am on the inside, trust me! But it’s just so surreal, I feel like its it’s too good to be true.” I’ve never been one to get my hopes up, and this situation was no different.

She holds her hand up to her face and shakes her head. “Well it’s real! Do you even know what this means?!” she smiles hard and waits for me to reply. I just shrug, not having the energy to express everything I’m feeling right now. “Wait….what exactly happened. How did it lead to that?”

As I head to the kitchen to grab something to drink, Mina tells her everything that I described to her on the drive here. I open the fridge and to grab a bottle of water when I see a half empty bottle of moscato in the back. I grab it and pour myself a glass, filling it nearly to the rim. I down half of it, barely even tasting it.

What am I going to do?

Wait. Why am I even questioning this? I can’t deny Park Jimin.

But what if this is all a big joke? What if I show up and him and the rest of BTS laugh at me for having false hope. I don’t think they’d do that…..not those angels…..but it’s all so skeptical.

What if he does this all the time?

Oh my God. What if he just wants a one night stand? I mean…I probably wouldn’t say no but…still it’d be nice knowing what I’m getting myself into before I show up.

Ugh I just don’t know.

My sister’s voice makes me jump, causing some of the wine in my glass to splash onto the floor.

“Well, someone’s clearly stressed.” she giggles and puts her hand on her hip. “Since when do you drink my wine?”

“Since….now.” I tilt the bottom of the glass into air as I gulp down the rest of the wine before placing the empty glass in the sink. I wipe up the little that spilled onto the floor and face my sister.. “Vee, I don’t know what to think right now.”

She and Mina stand side by side, staring at me in disbelief.

“What do you mean you dont know what think?” Mina half yells. “You need to think about what you’re gonna wear when you go to meet Jimin…..easy as that.” my sister nods in agreement.

Groaning, I look at them both. “I don’t know guys, what does he want though?” I say, even though deep down I know full well what he wants. The thought makes my body temperature rise.

“Maybe he wants to get to know you more?” says Vee.

“Or maybe he just wants to fuck.” Mina states matter-of-factly. I groan again and cover my face with my hands.

My sisters voice gets closer, “You’ll never know if you don’t go Sis, and don’t even stand here and tell me that you’d say no to him if that’s what he really wants.”

“I need to go lay down.” I let out a sigh.

Mina gets the hint and pulls me in for a hug, “Okay, just let me know what happens.”

I walk her to the door then head to my room, bypassing my sister as she stands in the middle of the hall.

“I really just need sleep first, Vee.” I say, avoiding eye contact.

My room instantly calms me as I enter. I shut the door and lock it behind me. I find my pajamas and change into them before throwing myself on my bed.

I am so mentally exhausted and confused that I don’t even consider taking a shower. I need to stop thinking and close my eyes. I soon fall asleep and drift into my dreams….

MASTERLIST

#jimin #park jimin #bts jimin #btssmut #jimin smut #smut #bts fanfic #jimin fanfic #fluff #bangtanhq #ficswithluv

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emeraldwaves · 6 years

Text

Title: Undercover Emotions Chapter 1 Pairing: Promptio, Highspecs Rating: E Word Count: 4,127 Read on Ao3 Summary: Rookie cop Prompto Argentum gets sent undercover with veteran Aranea Highwind in hopes of taking down the Caelums, longtime leaders of organized crime in Insomnia. After being assigned to assist Gladiolus Amicitia and Ignis Scientia, the pair dive deeper into the criminal underworld and find themselves caught up in a variety of shady dealings. However, when Prompto starts to learn who Gladiolus really is, his loyalties begin to shift in a direction he never expected.

Full fic under the cut! thanks to @its-love-u-asshole for betaing this!

"Argentum!" Captain Cor Leonis' voice echoed through the entire precinct's office, and Prompto practically fell out of his chair, wincing at the sound pounding against his ear drums.

"Uh oh shortcake, looks like you're in trouble. Again." Aranea Highwind giggled devilishly into her palm.

"Wonder what y'all did this time," Cindy Aurum snorted. "You’re always making Cor angry, hun."

"You know, maybe this time he's not angry! Maybe he's calling me into the office to praise me for doing such a great job on my last case," he smirked, looking rather proud of himself.

"ARGENTUM! MY OFFICE. NOW." Cor's deep voice repeated, showing no signs of happiness or pride. Prompto winced again, and shrunk his head towards his shoulder, making him look like a turtle trying to hide in its very tiny shell.

"Oh. Yeah. That definitely sounds like praise!" Aranea snorted. "Good luck, kid." She winked as he walked by her desk and made his way slowly to the Captain's office.

Cor was a good Captain, if not a little standoffish, but Prompto liked to think the man had a soft spot for him… when he wasn't yelling at him for a whole variety of things. Prompto was the newest member of Cor's team, and needless to say, he was still working out some of the odds and ends that went along with officially being a detective. This also meant there had been quite a few screw ups on Prompto's personal record.

"Cap'n Cor!" Prompto greeted, shooting a few finger guns at the serious looking man. "What's happenin'?!" he chuckled.

Cor, however, didn't laugh once. "Sit down and shut the door."

"Eheh… yes, sir," Prompto sighed, his shoulder's slouching as he flopped down into a chair directly opposite of Cor.

The man sighed, keeping his arms folded. "What the hell is this?" he asked, dropping a folder further up his desk so it was directly in front of Prompto.

Adjusting his glasses, Prompto peered forward, leaning over. "A… case file, sir?" he questioned. He knew it was probably a case file that didn't look good for him, but he didn't wanna bring that up if the Captain was going to focus on something else.

"This is the 5th one this month that has come across my desk documenting accidents from Officer Prompto Argentum. This one says you ruined not one, but two police cars? Care to explain how that happened?" Cor asked.

"I think you're missing the big picture here, Captain," Prompto began to explain, adjusting the glasses on his face.

Cor's face stayed deadpan.

"It's not about the cars, it's about the result!" he smiled, opening the file to point to the bottom. "See? ‘Culprit apprehended’!" he smirked, trying to keep what little pride he had left.

"Yes. But you've cost hundreds of dollars in police property damage and this isn't the first time this month! On top of that, you've almost let three felons escape, blown you and Cindy's cover accidentally, and there was the time you left your gun out carelessly on your desk. You're a newbie cop, and this isn't boding well for your personal record."

"I get that… but I'm also getting the baddies!"

Cor rubbed his forehead as he leaned back in the chair. "Yes, but it would be nice if you could handle yourself with a bit more poise. You have potential, Argentum. But I can't keep telling the heads of the department my newbie cop is screwing things up again."

"So… tell them Aranea did it!" he laughed, and Cor stared at him blankly, his face creepily stoic. "Okay, okay it was just a joke..." he mumbled.

Cor leaned forward and folded his hands together. "You're a good cop, Argentum. There's a reason I picked you for my team."

"Eh? You picked me?" he said, pointing to himself, and Cor sighed, as though he'd revealed information he would definitely regret later.

"Anyway, I want to send you on a higher profile case." Prompto's eyes immediately lit up. Here he thought he was going to be in trouble, maybe even kicked off the team, but instead Cor wanted to give him a higher profile case? Oh, he was definitely on board with this!

"I believe you'd be a good fit for this case, if you can keep yourself under control. It would be a good chance to prove yourself. I am setting you up to work with Highwind on this case, as it really requires two people. I trust her to keep you in check, but there will be moments when you are alone. I hope you won't make any mistakes on this one. If you do, you will be suspended from the team."

"Eh?! What?! Suspended!?" Prompto exclaimed, as though those were the only words he had heard.

"You heard me," Cor said.

"But you said I was a good cop!" Prompto whined, leaning back in his seat.

"You are. But you're not worth the amount of money you're costing the department. On top of that," Cor said, leaning forward once more. "Blowing your cover on this one… I say you'd be suspended, but if you’re found out, you'll be lucky to leave with your life."

Prompto blinked. "What?" What could be so intense he would possibly not be able to leave with his life? The notion was admittedly terrifying, but Prompto would've been lying if he said he wasn't at least a little bit intrigued.

He'd become a cop to protect people, to protect the innocent and save lives. He knew what it was like to be weak, to feel tiny among people who didn't care for others and wanted nothing more than to knock people around. He never wanted to go back to that place again, and he never wanted anyone else to experience the horrors he had as a child, so he'd trained hard and worked to pass the police exam for years.

When Cor had picked him for his team, Prompto had been beyond honored, knowing the man was practically a living legend in the police world. The Captain had more arrests than anyone else in the Insomnia Police Department. Cor had apparently seen something in Prompto, still did, and Prompto really didn't want to let him down this time.

It wasn't like Prompto meant to screw up. Sometimes it just happened!

"I was going to wait and discuss this with you both after tomorrow's morning debriefing but now seems like as good a time as any." He stood up, swinging the door open to call Aranea in. "Highwind, you get in here too," he said, returning to his seat.

It took Aranea no time to walk from her desk to Cor's office, and she sighed, looking down at Prompto. "What did I do that could possibly be on par with him?"

"Hey!" Prompto muttered.

"Nothing. Please, take a seat. I have a case I need to discuss with you. If the two of you accept, you'll be partnered on this one," Cor explained, turning around in his chair to pull a large binder from the file cabinet behind him.

"You want me to work with this dingus?" Aranea asked, gently knocking Prompto upside the head as she walked by to sit next to him. She winked, grinning as she took her seat.

Prompto liked Aranea. She was a hard ass, but of all the veterans, she was the nicest to him, even if her compliments were sort of...strangely backhanded.

"Yes. And this mission will be long term," he explained. Prompto had never worked on a long term case before, and working with Aranea would surely be helpful, as she was one of the ones with the most experience in their precinct.

"Long term?" Aranea raised an eyebrow. "Been awhile," she chuckled, crossing one leg over the other. "How long we talkin'?"

Cor thumbed at the binder in front of him, and opened it up to a page in the middle. "I take it you both are well aware of the mafia problem we've faced over the past many decades. For a long time it was 'overlooked'," Cor scoffed. "Many older officers felt there was nothing to be done about getting rid of organized, high crime, but I have different plans.

"We've had informants in the field for years," he explained. "People who are working for both sides. We have a strict agreement. I don't arrest them, they report back any findings to me.

"I recently received a tip from one of them. It seems the younger males in the next generation have finally begun their training to become the next heads of the family. From what I hear, Regis Lucis Caelum has not been doing well," Cor explained, tapping on the picture in the binder in front of him.

"As both of you are probably aware, the Caelum family has been the head of organized crime for quite sometime now, and just below him are the Amicitias and the Scientias, the three main heads working together. From what I hear, Regis is soon to be on the outs, and his son, Noctis, is prepping to take over," Cor continued. "I believe, if we can get Noctis and the other younger members of the group, we can cut them off at the head…" he said.

Aranea nodded. "Makes sense. Get the main leader and they'll all go down eventually. So what ya’ want us to do?"

"Undercover mission," Cor said, placing two files on the desk in front of them. "My informant tells me Gladiolus Amicitia and Ignis Scientia are in need of two new assistants. Apparently Gladiolus goes through them like water, and Ignis dismissed his last one for being far too incompetent. Aranea, you'll be Ignis' assistant and Prompto you will be Gladiolus'. Apparently Gladiolus isn't allowed to request women anymore," Cor snorted.

"Wonder why," Aranea grumbled, rolling her eyes.

"So does this mean we're going to go work for the mafia?" Prompto asked, glancing between his two older coworkers.

"Indeed," Cor said. "The goal is to get close to both of them so they will eventually lead you to Noctis. Once you have Noctis' location, we can set up a break-in and we'll be sure to get him, and hopefully Gladiolus and Ignis as well. I don't want to get greedy though, so if we can only get Noctis, so be it.

"Prompto," Cor continued. "You're new to this sort of thing, but Aranea will be very helpful in debriefing. If the two of you can find a safe place, you can discuss the case, but don't unless you are absolutely certain the area is secure. Aranea will send all information back to me, let her handle communication.

"On top of this, you may have to do some...less than legal activities. I know you joined the police force to stop crime, not commit it, however, we consider this to be a... special circumstance."

"How fun," Aranea purred, her lips quirking into a smile. Prompto had a feeling she would enjoy this far more than he would.

Cor sighed, pushing the folders towards them. "Anyhow, take these folders and get yourself briefed on the case. We've set up apartments for you closer to the general whereabouts. So get packed and say goodbye to any personal friends and family members as you will not have contact with them for quite some time."

"Got it, won't take very long," Aranea said, picking up her folder as she stood up. "See ya' 'round, Cor." She waved her hand once as she exited his office, presumably heading to pack.

"Well?" Cor raised his eyebrow.

Prompto gripped the folder in his hand. Cor trusted him with such a high stakes mission? He was flattered, excited, terrified... the mix of emotions throbbed in his fingertips against the folder.

Jumping up, he clutched it to his chest, saluting. "I won't let you down, sir!" he said excitedly. "I am so ready for this!"

As nervous as he felt, he'd been waiting for a case like this since he joined the force! The whole reason he had become a cop was to keep the people safe, and what better way to do so than by stopping high-profile criminals who hurt people on the daily.

Cor opened his mouth, as if to argue that he wasn't so sure but he closed it. "Kid," he said, folding his hands over his lap. "Be careful, alright?"

"You got it," Prompto winked, giving him a thumbs up, heading out the office door.

Cor called after him before the door could shut. "And don't do anything stupid!"

Gladiolus Amicitia looked around the cafe and immediately pulled out a cigarette. Ignis Scientia was never late to anything; not meetings, not appointments, and not even for spending time with his oldest and dearest friend. Admittedly 15 minutes wasn't all that late, but this was Ignis! So naturally, Gladio was a little stressed.

He lit the cigarette, holding it close to his lips as he pulled in a long drag, puffing the smoke out into the air. He rolled his fingers against the table, shaking his leg up and down.

He pulled out his pocket watch from his jacket. Where the hell was he?

He took another long drag on his cigarette, the possibilities of Ignis' whereabouts began to race through his mind. The problem was, there were so many potential scenarios of what could've happened to his best friend, and none of them were casual. All involved pain of some sort, injuries... death...

No. Gladio shook his head. Iggy wasn't that stupid. He wouldn't go and get himself killed before they were supposed to have lunch.

"Ah, Gladio, my apologies," Ignis' smooth tone cut through the cacophony of the streets and Gladio's own thoughts. His amber eyes immediately shot up to meet Ignis' jade hues. A smile pulled across his handsome features, and Gladio immediately rolled his eyes.

"Took ya' long enough," he growled, slamming his cigarette down on the ashtray to snuff it out.

"Were you concerned?" Ignis asked, pulling the chair out. He took a seat, leaning his elbows on the table as he smirked.

"Concerned my ass!" Gladio snorted. "You're never fuckin' late, so I was starting to get insulted." Ignis was safe, there was no need to let him know he'd been worried.

"Of course. Well, I did apologize," he chuckled, pressing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He thumbed through the menu, completely ignoring Gladio's huffy behavior.

"Yeah, yeah. Where the hell were ya'?" Gladio asked, watching as Ignis scanned the menu. Gladio didn't know why he was looking so hard. Ignis had been the one to choose this particular cafe. It was on the other side of town, on the edge of their territory, dangerously close to Izunia's neck of the woods. (Far too close, in Gladio's opinion.) However, Ignis had insisted, since this cafe was one of the only ones in the city which carried the brand of coffee he preferred. Gladio usually let Ignis choose the restaurants though, he was far more picky about his food than Gladio would ever be.

Ignis paused, his finger tracing down the edge of the menu. He pursed his lips as he turned his gaze towards his best friend. "It seems things have gotten worse with my uncle. I had to stop by the hospital."

"Damn Iggy, I wish I'd known, I woulda gone with you."

"I... know you would've. I almost stopped by here first, but I thought it best to go and handle things on my own first. I wasn't sure what condition he would be in," Ignis sighed.

The waitress arrived at the table, taking their order, and, as cute as she was, Gladio was thankful when she left them in peace.

"What happened?" Gladio asked once she left. He was tempted to pull out another cigarette, but refrained from doing so; Ignis didn't enjoy smoking while he had his coffee.

"He collapsed in his office," Ignis muttered. "The doctors aren't sure what happened. He was sleeping when I went to sign paperwork."

"Hm. Overworking himself again," Gladio chuckled. "Just like someone else I know."

"Gladiolus please," Ignis sighed. "I am not overworking myself. Besides, I brought the paperwork for the potential assistant candidates I found."

"Really?" Gladio smirked, raising his eyebrow. "So you're not overworking yourself and yet you brought work to our casual meetup!" he teased.

Ignis grunted, thanking the waitress when she put their drinks down. He picked up the cup, blowing over the heated surface. "Getting an assistant will stop me from overworking myself. Meanwhile, your assistant will actually help you get work done," he smirked back.

"Har-har, Iggy," Gladio said. "So I assume you'll be taking over for your Uncle for his gala duties?"

"Yes. Which is why it is imperative I find a new assistant immediately," he nodded. "We don't have much time before the Winter Gala, and seeing as Regis is letting Noctis handle it almost entirely on his own… well, he’ll need all the help he can get," Ignis spewed out the information quickly, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Iggy, calm down. We'll get it figured out."

"If Noctis and I take over for Regis and my Uncle respectively, we can begin to start putting our plans in motion. We could begin with the Winter Gala-"

"Forget it. There's no way my father will go for that shit," Gladio said, waving his hand back and forth quickly. "Look Iggy, I know you're eager, but we gotta be patient, okay?"

Ignis sighed, leaning back in his chair. He slipped his hands under his frames, pushing his glasses up. "I know. But taking over for my uncle includes... many things," Ignis muttered, flicking his gaze to the side. "You are... aware of this, Gladio?"

"'Course I am," he snorted.

"Then you understand why I am so eager to push things in our direction," Ignis hissed softly.

"Yeah, but one thing at a time Iggy," Gladio muttered, his own voice hushed.

Sighing, Ignis leaned forward, taking a large gulp of his coffee. "You're right, you're right." His tone sounded resigned, and Gladio felt a pang of guilt. Ignis was always tightly-wound, but right now he seemed far more stressed than usual. "One thing at a time."

Leaning over, he pulled a few files from his briefcase. He placed them on the small table in front of Gladio before smoothing out his gray suit jacket. "Here we are. The candidates." He passed one of the folders to Gladio. "I went ahead and selected my two favorites for us. This man, Prom Argent, is for you and this woman Nea Biggs is for me."

"Now hold on a second!" Gladio snarled, yanking the folder from Ignis' hands. "How come you get the woman!?"

Ignis rolled his eyes. "We discussed this, Gladio. The last three women assistants you had quit after you ‘broke their hearts’. I assume you won't be sleeping with this man," he said.

Gladio flipped the folder open, showing a resume and a small picture of a small blond boy with flat hair and glasses. "So you're giving me this kid? Who the fuck is this nerd?"

Ignis couldn't help but laugh. "Oh come on Gladio, give the 'kid' a chance," Ignis teased. "He's quite qualified if you read over his resume."

"Hang on, lemme see your chick," he said, lunging forward to grab the folder in front of Ignis.

"Gladio-"

He flipped it open and stared at the picture of the gray haired woman for a moment. "What the hell, Ignis! She's a babe!" he said, turning the picture around to shove it in his face.

"Yes, she is a very fine looking lady," Ignis muttered, snatching the picture from Gladio's hand. "But more importantly she's qualified. Her sources checked out as well, and I hear she's quite efficient," Ignis said.

"Good for her," Gladio mumbled.

"So since you're done griping..."

He wasn't, but he let Ignis speak anyway.

"And you're obviously completely fine with the match up."

He wasn't, but apparently it was useless to argue.

"They start tomorrow, so please prepare tasks for Prom to do," Ignis said.

"Tomorrow?! Oh I'll prepare all right," he grumbled, opening the folder once more to look at the scrawny blond.

"I know you're not pleased, but based on his credentials I think he'll be good for you. And Ms. Biggs is going to be just what I need to keep my workload from being far too overwhelming."

Gladio sighed. Ignis was an intelligent man, and if he thought this was best, it most likely was. "Alright Iggy, I'll give the kid one chance."

"Good," Ignis smiled, sipping the last of his coffee. "It will go smoothly, I'm sure."

Gladio growled, folding his arms. "One chance. If he screws up, he's gone."

The suitcase on his bed was open, but not even remotely organized. "Shit, shit, shit! Where did I put those pinstripe pants!?" Prompto whined, tossing everything out of his closet. Cor had made it very clear he wasn't allowed to come back to his apartment, under any circumstances. He had to be sure he had everything.

Actually looking at his suitcase now, Prompto wasn't sure it was going to be large enough. "I should've bought two," he sighed.

Thumbing through the file he'd been given, he stared at the picture of Gladiolus Amicitia, the man he would be working for. He certainly looked like someone involved in the mafia! He had a scar down his left eye, and his wild brown hair was slicked back tight against his forehead. From what he could see in the picture, his shoulders were broad, and Prompto couldn't tell if he hadn't shaved in this picture, or if he purposefully left the hair on his chin and jaw like that. "What a scary lookin' fella..." Prompto muttered.

Slapping his cheeks, he shook his head and closed the folder back up. He wasn't scared! Hell no, this was the case he'd been waiting for; the case he dreamed about during training at the academy!

He glanced at the telephone on his bedside table. Should he call his parents? He didn't talk to them often. They were constantly traveling for work, and if not for work, then for pleasure. They never seemed to worry about Prompto, or the fact his job could often put him in life threatening situations. No, they were simply proud of him, and did their own thing.

His best friends were Cindy and Aranea... and he'd already said a tearful goodbye to Cindy when he left the station. Well, tearful on his side of things. She'd pat his back and wished him luck, warning him she'd kill him if he died.

No phone calls were really necessary.

Digging through his closet he grabbed a few more outfits. Everything he owned was far too... straight-edge. He knew these men usually dressed classy, but it was a completely different look from his own casual wear. The last thing he wanted was for his clothes to give him away. He couldn't risk showing any hints he might be a cop.

He twisted his lips and flopped down on the bed, looking at the mess of clothes. Adjusting his glasses, he puffed out his cheeks. Aranea was probably all packed. Hell, she'd probably been packed from the second she got home. From the way she left the office, Prompto wondered if she'd packed with the snap of her finger.

She hadn't looked nervous at all back at the station when Cor had de-briefed them on what they would be doing. (Not that Prompto was nervous, oh no, of course not.) Then again, she'd gone undercover plenty of times before. Still, Prompto was sure none of them had been as important as something like this. Maybe he could ask her about past cases later.

Blowing out a long huff of air, Prompto began to organize the clothes he'd thrown into his suitcase. He wanted to at least try and get some sleep tonight. With the insane mix of emotions mashed-up around inside of him, he wasn't sure if he would actually be able to. Being tired for his first day seemed like a horrible idea. The more tired he was, the higher the chances were he might flub and reveal their true identities-

No. He had promised Cor… no more screw ups! No, this was his first real undercover case, and there was no way he was going to fuck it up.

#promptio #prompto argentum #gladiolus amicitia #highspecs #final fantasy xv #aranea highwind #ignis scientia #Final fantasy 15 #Mafia AU #chaptered #undercover emotions

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meanwhile-on-spn · 4 years

Text

Meanwhile...

Season 1 Ep. 3 - Dead in the Water

Previously on Supernatural: Three friends try to recreate Stand by Me.

---

“You promised me he wasn’t coming!” Lucas whined in a way that would be embarrassing if his friends saw. Of course she couldn’t keep a promise when it came to her new boyfriend. He hadn’t been around very long, yet Paul was always inviting himself over and invading their lives.

“Lucas, he wanted to come. Paul just wants to celebrate your birthday with you.” His mother said, placing a lock of hair behind her ear and crossing her arms. This wasn’t a good sign, the pose normally meant she was getting angry. “He even brought a gift for you.”

He rolled his eyes and turned to leave the kitchen.

“He’s not welcome. I’m going back upstairs.” He could hear his friends laughing and didn’t want to miss out on the matches. He walked quickly to the front hall and turned to head for the stairs.

“Come back down for cake soon!” His mom yelled after him. He kept walking, heading for the stairs by the front door, nearly bumping into someone. He looked up to see an older man wearing his normal crusty plaid shirt, baseball cap, and dad jeans. Lucas made to walk past Paul, but the man awkwardly moved in front, blocking his way again.

“Happy Birthday dude!” Paul said through a large smile. He went to hug Lucas, but when he took a step back, Paul paused, then took something out of his coat pocket instead. “Here take this, I’m going to go see if I can help your mom with the cake.” He pushed a small wrapped box into Lucas’s arms. Than with the stupid whistling that he always does, he stomps into the kitchen.

The package in his hands was lumpy and wrapped poorly with weird bulges in the paper and a store-bought bow perched in the middle. He scowled at it, a present from Paul was bound to be bad, probably stupid baseball jersey.

Lucas nodded, then ran upstairs not bothering to look at the package. He heard his friends making weird noises from down the hall. It sounded as if they were mimicking the sounds of explosions and gunfire around mouthfuls of snacks.

“Lucas! Finally you’re back! You mentioned you liked this band, but I didn’t know you had so many concert posters. Aren’t these guys like super old?” His friend Artie said, smirking, as he pointed at a poster on the wall. There was a collection of 70s and 80s style posters in an array of colors. They all had one similarity and that was a zeppelin flying across the poster with a band name written across the top.

“Come on, man they’re a great band!” He exclaimed, only sounding slightly defensive. Lucas dropped the gift in the pile on his desk, with the rest and walked over to sit next to Artie on the floor.

“I guess. My dad plays their tape in the car all the time. It gets annoying after awhile.” Artie replied, crossing his arms. He was focused on the tv, controller in his hands, twisting this way and that as if it controlled his character better.

“It's such dad music.” Elijah said it like it was a slur. Elijah liked to think he invented good taste, which always made him fun to rile up. He made it easy too, all you had to do was say that Tarantino was a hack.

“They are a classic! Way more well known than your EDM DJs.” Lucas snapped back watching at Alijah’s face got slightly red and his playing started to slip.

“When did you start listening to them?” Sid asked, controller in his hands, twisting this way and that as if it controlled his character better.

Lucas smiles watching as Sid landed a hit on Elijah’s character, “Around the time when we moved. A friend introduced me to them. All I can say is Zeppelin Rules.”

The room goes silent as the boys all look at Lucas.

“Alright then, David just destroyed Sid, you sub’ in Lucas. I bet you can’t beat him!” Elijah smiled, flicking his moppy hair out of his eyes.

“Yeah right, did you forget this is my game?” Lucas smiled and grabbed the controller from Sid.

A few minutes later David was yelling and cursing his luck. Just as he was asking for a re-match, they heard a voice yelling from down the hall.

“Kids, Food is ready!” His mother called from the kitchen.

“One minute mom.” Lucas replied by starting up a new round to kick David’s butt again.

“Come on Lucas! If you don’t come now you won’t have time to open your gifts!” His mother called.

“Better hurry before I eat all the cake!” Lucas rolled his eyes, Paul was trying to be funny again. His friends however, began to shift, getting up to head into the other room.

“Cake sounds good to me!” Sid said, happily jumping up and heading for the door. David sighed.

“Fine but I want a re-match before I leave!” He said, pointing the controller at Lucas.

“Coming mom!”

---

As the sun started to set, Lucas was sitting at the mahogany table surrounded by wrapping paper, crumb covered plates, and his excited friends. He was inspecting the back of the game David had given him, when his mom placed a lumpy package in front of him.

“Don’t forget this one!” She said looking expectantly at him, She turned and smiled back at Paul. once she was close enough, Paul had his hand around her waist, with a big dumb smile on his face. Gross.

Lucas hadn’t forgotten, he was just more excited to open his friends’ gifts. They got him things he actually wanted like new games. He also wasn’t expecting much from Paul, it was probably going to be something he didn't want but it would impress him mom. Like, a book on submarines in world war one or underwear, sensible and boring.

He heard his friends mumbling to each other as he unwrapped the camo-print gift. Inside was a crushed brown rectangular package. He quickly shook it and felt the weight shift, but it didn’t make a noise. It was too big for a game and two small for a nice sketchbook. As he opened the box he sighed, seeing the contents were clothing, sensible and boring.

He was about to give a fake thank you, ready to throw the half open package into his closet, but then he saw the logo. Blue, Gold and orange faded together to make up the illustration of a fleet of zeppelins flying through the sky. Emblazoned over the top of design was United States Tour ‘77 Led Zeppelin. It was faded and cracked, from years of it being washed, dried, folded and loved.

Paul had given him a Led Zeppelin t-shirt. He pulled out of the paper and could feel something more solid wrapped in the faded fabric. Slowly unfolding the shirt he found a CD copy of their first album. Lucas stared down at the gift, at a loss for words.

“I hope you don't mind” Paul actually sounded slightly nervous, “the shirt being too big. It's original. I got it at my first concert.” Lucas just stared at him, he still had his stupid hand around his mom. Still had that stupid hat and flannel shirt on. Still whistled his stupid tunes. Now though, he seemed so different. Like a man he never met before, like a man that he could see driving around in a muscle car, shooting guns and zig zagging across the country.

“You’re giving this to me?” This shirt had to be worth hundreds of dollars.

“Of course, it’s your birthday.” Paul said like it was absolutely nothing, His mom was beaming at the man. She looked so happy and Lucas couldn't really remember the last time he saw his mom like that. She didn't like to talk about it but he honestly didn't remember much before they moved. Just that she felt like they had to. To many bad memories back in Lake Manitoc. “And I know how much you like them.” Paul continues pulling Lucas out of his thoughts.

Looking back at the shirt a massive smile grew on Luca’s face. Maybe this guy wasn’t so bad after all.

Can we talk about how incredibly dark this episode was. like out body count practically doubled in this one episode alone.

Onscreen Body Count: 10

#supernatural #spn #spn fanficiton #spn fanfic #spn fandom #dean winchester #sam winchester #led zeppelin #Spn season 1 #season 1

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autistech · 6 years

Text

Sony WI1000X vs Bose QC20

I want to tell you about my latest cybernetic enhancement: Sony’s new WI1000X noise canceling earbuds. (I’m not getting paid for this, I’m just excited.) Since a bunch of my friends use Bose Quiet Comfort 20 noise canceling ear buds, and that’s what I’ve used for the past year, I’ll do it by comparing the two.

Verdict: I prefer Sony WI1000X ear buds to Bose Quiet Comfort 20 ear buds.

My Sony WI1000X ear buds arrived yesterday. I’ve been traveling around today switching back and forth between them and my old Bose QC20s, deciding whether to keep the Sonys, or return them and stick with Bose.

Notes On Noise Cancellation In General I’ve tried several over-ear headphones with active noise cancellation, a few over-ear headphones with passive noise cancellation, a couple kinds of high-quality earmuffs, and many brands of ear plugs. For me, in-ear active noise cancellation was best, and the Bose QC20s in particular won out last time I was shopping for noise control (which was a bit over a year ago).

Both the Sony WI1000Xs and the Bose QC20s are in-ear headphones with active noise cancellation (meaning they do some kind of high-tech electronic thing to cancel out incoming sounds, rather than just plugging your ears like, well, earplugs.). The first thing I want to say about both of these is that I find them woefully inadequate for noise cancellation. As far as I can tell, they’re the best options currently available; current tech just isn’t up to the job of granting me sufficient control over my auditory experiences. They do not come close to creating artificial silence, unless the natural soundscape is already nearly silent.

But they do substantially soften audioscapes. A car engine sounds more like an annoying clickety thing and less like a scary monster. A crowd sounds more like an incessant murmur. Screechy bus brakes sound like somewhat quieter screechy bus brakes. And to me, that’s worth a lot.

Bose QC20

The Bose QC20s are The Wirecutter’s top rec, and they’ve gotten quite popular among my friends. They really are shockingly effective, and represent a substantial QOL boost for me. But they are not exactly a delight to interact with, for two main reasons.

First, there’s a battery that hangs at the end of the cord close to my phone. Whenever I move around, and especially when I walk anywhere, the cord tugs on my ears. I find this unpleasant. I’ve always had this problem with wired earbuds, but the battery pack makes it worse. Running with them is nearly impossible, since it’s the same tugging I get with walking, but harder. Worse yet is when I try to use them in a supermarket, because the cord invariably gets caught on the handle of the basket, or on some item I’m trying to put in the basket, and the ear buds are yanked out of my ears. (I’ve actually given up on going to the supermarket, for the most part.)

Second, it makes a quiet high-pitched whine, presumably a result of the active noise cancellation. Which is HORRIBLE. It’s a lot better than the screechy bus brakes I’m trying to block out, but it’s just infuriating that I have to choose between the sounds of my environment, and the awful sound of this device that’s supposed to be keeping me safe. It’s like, “Would you prefer street sounds, or complimentary tinnitus?”. And the only thing you can do about it is exactly what you do if you’ve got tinnitus: Play music or white noise. Again, better than screechy bus brakes, but still not ideal when I’m trying to get away from sound.

For these two reasons - ear-tugging and artificial tinnitus - I’ve taken to carrying the earbuds with me, and only putting them in at the last possible minute, when I just can’t stand the harshness of the environment any longer. (Sometimes that’s five seconds after I leave my house, but I often last much longer.) Which is a hell of a lot better than waiting until the last possible minute and then not having noise-canceling ear buds to rescue me. But it’s a far cry from making me a care-free autistic cyborg.

My other criticism of the QC20s is more minor, but it’s put me back on the market for new noise-canceling ear buds: They’re not super durable.

The rubber stuff that used to cover the battery pack started to tear shortly after I got them, and after a few months it was bad enough that I just removed the covering entirely. The battery pack isn’t as nice to touch anymore, and it makes a slightly louder sound when I set the ear buds on the table. Which is whatever.

What finally did it is the l-shaped connector. The rubber that covers the wires at the neck of the connector has severed, so now the wires are exposed. I covered them with electrical tape, but it’s just a matter of time before the wires themselves give out. Thus, I seek a replacement.

There’s one more thing to note about my experience with the QC20s, and I almost left it out because I can’t put my finger on what’s causing it. But somehow, using them feels… stuffy.

Maybe it’s the specific frequencies they block, or the shape of the ear buds, or the high-pitched whine. I can’t tell. Whatever it is, it feels a little like being under water, and if I use them for very long, especially if I’m not playing music or an audiobook, I start feeling dissociated.

I figured this was just a property of noise control in general, a result of divorcing my audiotory experiences from my other sensory experiences. But so far, I’m not getting this with Sony.

Sony WI1000X

The Sony WI1000Xs are not obviously better at canceling noise. Nor are they obviously worse.

If you told me that you’d measured objectively and found that one blocked more noise than the other, my money would be on Bose. But I wouldn’t bet very much. They’re close enough to equal on that front that despite switching back and forth dozens of times in a few different noisy environments today, I can’t tell if theres a difference in degree of noise cancellation. I suspect they block slightly different frequencies, but I can’t tell which ones. With respect to noise-cancellation, they’re equivalent in practice.

Which is a big deal, since there really weren’t any rivals for the Bose QC20s a year ago. QC20s even outperformed other products in the Bose Quiet Comfort line, including the over-ear QC25s. I haven’t tried the wireless in-ear QC30s myself, but Amazon reviews suggest that people who bought them after owing QC20s were disappointed.

Besides matching the Bose QC20s for noise cancellation, I’m excited about three things with the Sony WI1000Xs.

One, they’re wireless. They’re not as weightless as my ordinary wireless earbuds - I’ve been using Jaybird X3s for running and biking - because there’s still a battery to fuel the noise cancellation. But rather than hanging on the end of a string that tugs at my ears all the time, the battery is a collar that rests comfortably around my neck. It’s very light, and doesn’t bother me at all when I’m walking.

Turns out it’s even light enough that I can pin it to my head with hair clips and use it while working out. It works for inverted yoga poses and everything. Makes me want to replace part of my skull with a battery pack, like a proper cyborg.

Two, THERE’S NO WHINE. There’s a very small static-like noise that I can just make out if I listen for it, but it doesn’t hurt. This tiny static thing is by far the least annoying auditory byproduct of active noise cancellation I’ve encountered so far, and I’m pretty ok with it.

Third, the sound quality is astounding.

High sound quality is something I neither require nor expect in ear buds of any kind, let alone wireless ones with active noise cancellation. But I do care about sound quality; I know it doesn’t matter at all for many people, but I’m one of those music geeks with five hundred dollar audiophile headphones, which I treat like a sacramental religious object. I have a Spottify playlist called “immaculate classical”, and I only listen to those songs on my Sennheiser HD 598s because it sounds blasphemous on any other audio device I regularly encounter.

There’s a specific song I use to test sound quality in headphones: Leopold Stokowsky’s orchestral arrangement of Bach’s Little Fugue in G Minor. (That’s a link to Youtube, where the audio quality is too low and WARNING it will probably auto-play. I actually use the Spottify recording, but not everybody has Spottify.) It’s a perfect song for this, because the orchestra comes in a little at a time, instrument by instrument, weaving a few phrases in and out over and over again. You get to hear how the headphones deliver the same melody in different ranges one after another. Then they all come together at the end and you can listen to the whole range of orchestral frequencies at once.

When evaluating headphones with this song, the main questions I ask are, in chronological order, “Are the oboe and clarinet broad or squished?”, “Is the horn rich or muddy?”, “Are the strings warm or cold?”, “Are the flutes shrill or soft?”, “Does the whole bass section lay flat or rumble?”, and “What is the emotional impact?”.

When I hear this song with broad reeds, rich horns, warm strings, soft winds, and rumbling bass, the impact is the same every time: I giggle, gasp, and shiver with awe. But every part has to be in place. On low-quality headphones, this song does nothing for me.

With the QC20s, the oboes and clarinets are squished, the flutes are sharp, the mi-range instruments are muddy, the bass absolutely does not not rumble, and the whole thing sounds thin. Which is, ya know, par for the course with ear buds. They’re not supposed to be audiophile headphones. The sound quality isn’t bad for ear buds in general - in fact it’s quite good, ordinary $40 earbuds are significantly worse at sound quality - but listening to Little Fugue on them feels sad and empty.

Which is exactly the experience I expected with the WI1000Xs. So when I played Little Fugue on them and found that it sounded more like it does on my Sennheisers than on my QC20s, I was more than a little surprised. It doesn’t match the Sennheiser HD 598s, but honestly it’s not that far behind. I am willing to listen to my immaculate classical list on these, and although that’s not what matters to me in a noise control device, it is certainly the most impressive feature of the WI1000Xs from my perspective. Warm oboes, crisp horns, and god damn rumbly bass on tiny little ear buds! I did not know that was currently possible.

There are only two things I so far disprefer about the Sony WI1000Xs compared to the Bose QC20s. The first is that when the battery cut out, Sony didn’t give me a warning beforehand. Bose says something like “battery level low” around twenty minutes before you actually run out of juice, and while I really wish they’d communicate such info by texting my phone or something rather than saying words directly into my ear, I do appreciate the chance to adjust my plans.

The second is that the audio cuts out sometimes. It happens about as often as with my wireless sports ear buds (I use Jbird X2s). It’s super annoying when it happens, but it depends a lot on how far the phone is from the receiver and what’s in the way, so I have some control. If I keep my phone in my back pocket while I’m wearing a backpack that contains a laptop, the audio glitches multiple times a minute. But if I keep my phone in my front shirt pocket, or in my bra, it never glitches.

Hopes For Future Tech

Here are the things I most want to see in my next auditory cybernetic enhancement.

* Better noise cancellation, obviously, especially for the higher frequencies. * Let me turn off spoken announcements from the device, and send the info to my phone as text instead. * Sound recognition. I’d like to be able to point at a particular source of sound, like a single person’s voice, and cancel everything besides that. Which is exactly what Orosound’s Tilde ear buds are supposed to do (though using directionality, not actual sound recognition as I’d like), but I just heard about them for the first time today. I’m pretty skeptical and don’t expect them to measure up to the Sony/Bose standard in noise cancellation overall, but if I try them out I’ll add a note here. * A completely wireless hearing-aid-like design. These exist, but the tech is young and they’re still pretty glitchy. * Precise, highly customizable, speech-focused equalization. Some people’s voices are grating to me, and I hate this because it means I can’t stand bodyspace interactions with certain people I’d otherwise get along with just fine. If I could adjust which frequencies are sent through to my ears, perhaps it would solve this problem. Earbuds with built-in equilizers do exist - Here One looks pretty exciting, plus it’s truly wireless - but so far everything I’ve seen “tunes into speech while tuning out the plane engine”, which doesn’t sound precise enough to control my experience of individual voices.

#softs

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completeautoloans · 4 years

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What’s a Rebuilt Title…Should You Buy or Avoid Them?

Have you ever spotted a sign that says, rebuilt title cars for sale, and wondered what that means? It refers to a car that’s restored after losing more than 50% of its value in an accident. Falling objects, adverse weather, and riots also fall in the same list as accidents. However, each federal state has its own definition of repaired titles.

First-time car buyers who just want basic and highly affordable cars prefer these cars. However, it’s wrong to assume that all used cars have a similar quality. Today, you’ll learn all about rebuilt titles and whether they’re worth it.

Tip: Top 10 Most Reliable Used Car Brands of 2018

1. Should I buy a car with a rebuilt title?

Here are 10 factors you should consider before making a purchase.

1. Rebuilt title insurance

The lure of saving thousands of dollars is appealing to buyers in need of cars. However, the new car owner will encounter rejection from several insurance companies. Why? Because it’s difficult to assess the true value of rebuilt titles. One would have to dismantle the entire car to check the real value of replacements.

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If the car burst into flames or got swept in floods, it’s bound to develop serious mechanical issues a couple of years after restoring it. That’s why car insurance companies won’t want to overcompensate you for a car that can give up the ghost at any moment.

Tip: Do Auto Loans Require Comprehensive Insurance?

What is liability insurance?

Due to the issues with valuation and high risk of mechanical failure, buying this type of car limits you to apply for a liability insurance cover. It’s whereby your insurance company provides compensation to other drivers when you’re responsible for causing a collision. It also covers any property damaged inside the third party’s car.

Auto insurance companies cannot provide you with a comprehensive plan because they risk losing money in the event of compensation. If a tree fell on your hood and the car stopped working, you’ll file for a brand new engine. However, an issue would arise since your car has a renovated one.

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The list of requirements

Pictures of your car – Why do insurance companies request for close up photos of your car? It helps them to spot any dents, scratches, and missing parts. It discourages dishonest motorists from filing for false compensations because the insurance company already has valid proof of previous deformities.

Certified mechanic’s statement – Car insurance companies need verification from a qualified and registered auto mechanic shop for repaired titles. Just like a doctor’s letter, car insurance providers trust certified mechanics’ statements as proof of roadworthiness.

The repair estimate – A certified mechanic prepares this document to show all recorded damages and repairs that took place. You’ll see the nature of the accident and extent of damage on affected car parts. A repair estimate also indicates previous damages that existed before the devastating accident.

2. The car rebuilder’s reputation

There’s no special license required to rebuild a scorched engine or dented hood. That’s why you’ll find hundreds of car rebuilding advertisements online. However, good car renovators remain popular in the market due to offering quality services. Customers drive away happy because they’re confident that the mechanic used genuine parts and took a lot of time on each car.

Tips:

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You can ask your dad or older uncles to recommend a car dealership with good rebuilt motor vehicles. Find out who does renovation for your local car dealership then check their reputation on online car forums.

3. Resale value

How long are you planning to own the car? If you’re looking to upgrade to a better one, you need a car that’s valuable enough to boost your future down payment. You don’t want to have a renovated car you don’t like occupying your garage for no reason while saving up for a new one.

If you plan to sell the car after a certain period, you’ll need to buy a car produced in the past 24 months. Why? Because it contains most features that are hot in today’s market. Plus, you’ll find genuine spare parts countrywide at affordable prices.

In order to get the best price for your car, you’ll have to figure out how much it costs to maintain your car in excellent condition.

Tip: How Many Years Can You Finance a Used Car?

4. Car model

When you look at the most popular affordable car brands in the past 50 years, you’ll notice that Ford and Toyota always appear in the top five list. It’s not because these auto manufacturers have the best advertisements or lowest car prices. Their secret to global success is consistently producing high-quality motor vehicles.

It’s no secret that some car brands just suck. When you visit online forums for cars, you see several conversation threads of people complaining about a similar problem regarding a particular model. This is common with Chinese-manufactured cars because manufacturers use inferior material and shoddy assembly.

5. Product life of replaced parts

A good mechanic will use genuine and new spare parts to restore un-roadworthy cars. Using genuine components extends the life of a rebuilt titles. This high quality helps you to keep the car for a longer period and avoid recurring mechanical issues.

Check the spare parts’ product life cycles before buying a retitled car. Product life refers to how long an auto manufacturer intends on making and selling a certain item. It’s important because you want to purchase genuine parts conveniently at your local auto mechanic shop. When an auto manufacturer is about to phase out a certain car, it ceases producing spare parts.

6. Availability of rebuilt title loans

Can you get an auto loan for a rebuilt title? Yes, you can. Plus, you’re almost certain of getting a good car from car dealerships because they have specialized mechanics to repair and inspect newly restored motor vehicles. They’re also very affordable due to the low prices.

Make sure you obtain copies of the certified mechanic’s statement to verify whether the car is roadworthy. If you’re satisfied with the quality, pay a huge down payment to lower your car payments. Choose a short repayment period to avoid paying a lot of interest on a renovated car.

2. How to inspect a car with a repaired title

1. Car Tires

A roadworthy car has a set of good tires. If you notice the bald tires, then you’re almost certain that the car has several issues that will cost you a lot of money. You can check the depth of the car treads by using a penny. Hold it upside down then insert it between two tire treads. If the treads cover at least half of Abraham Lincoln’s face, the tires are road worthy.

Also, inspect thoroughly for any cuts or bumps. You’ll need a car jack and some jack stands to elevate your car so you can rotate the tires without having to remove them. Remember to check the valve stems to see whether they’re leaking.

Tip: 7 Things Your Car Dealership Won’t Tell You About a Car Loan

2. Engine

The engine is very important because it determines your recurring car expenses and safety when driving. Before going on a test drive, pop the hood and open the head gasket. If you see any frothy liquids, tell the car owner to replace his or her leaking head gasket before taking your money.

Next, check the engine’s coolant quality and quantity. You should see a bright colored spotless fluid. Any blackish spots you might see indicate contamination due to a leak in the head gasket. The fluid level should be at least two inches above the line.

3. Suspension

The good news is that you don’t have to remove your tires to assess your car’s suspension. Simply get into the driver’s seat and turn on your engine. Do not start the car because you just want to unlock the wheel. Now make a hard right then a hard left and listen for any sounds coming from your steering wheel.

In case you hear any sounds, that’s a sign of problems with movable joints attaching the steering to your wheel axle. However, you need to do another test to confirm your observations. So, step out of the car then walk towards the front fender. Make sure you’re close to the car tire then use both hands to pump pressure continuously on the fender.

A car with good suspension should bounce without producing clonks. After removing your hands, the car should stop rocking immediately.

4. Transmission

You’ll need a long test drive to have a good assessment of the car’s transmission system. Pay attention when you start the car and drive off the car lot. One indicator of a damaged gear system is a whining noise whenever you reverse the car. If you switch to reverse but the car takes a couple of seconds to start moving, just look for a better car.

Pick a road in a secluded area with very few motorists for your test drive. Why? Because you’ll need to travel at high speeds over a long distance to check whether the car transitions smoothly from one gear to the next.

5. Brakes

Have you ever witnessed an accident that occurred because one driver had bad brakes? A car that has unreliable brakes poses a great danger to your life, fellow motorists, and pedestrians around you. That’s why you need to take the car out on a test drive to inspect them.

Check the effectiveness of your brakes by halting at various speeds. Look for a straight road where you can drive at 5 MPH then press the brake. Next, increase your speed to 10MPH then apply your brakes. If the brakes require stomping, say goodbye to the seller.

If you have plenty of time, remove any tire then use your car jack and jack stands to raise the vehicle. Take a venire caliper and measure the thickness of your outer and inner brake pads. A good brake pad should be at least quarter of an inch thick. Check whether both brake pads wear out evenly.

6. Steering wheel

The power steering reservoir has a dipstick attached the cap to help you check fluid levels and quality. If you notice drops of the steering wheel fluid just at the tip of the dipstick, tell the seller to do some refilling. Insufficient quantity causes squeaking when the driver makes a right or left turn.

Get out of the driver seat then pop the hood. You’ll need a flashlight to examine the car’s drive belt. It should be dry and lack any cracks or breaks. If you find a damaged drive belt, avoid buying the car because you’ll also need a new drive pump. Take the flashlight underneath the car to check for any swollen bushings.

7. Frame

This test is quite easy. All you have to do is use your fingers to feel for any bumps or dents while walking around the car. If you find any, it indicates that the accident was terrible. Check the body lines along the hood, trunk and car doors.

Second, open all car doors then shut them one by one. A damaged car frame interferes with door locking and opening. That’s why you have to use extra force to push the door shut from outside. A bad frame can make the car unsafe because it doesn’t lock properly. Imagine what would happen if you’re driving at 60MPH then your door suddenly swings open.

Pay attention to your car trunk and hood. If you need to use extra force to shut them, then you know that the car has an altered frame. If someone knocks your car from behind, then it will be really difficult to repair the trunk.

8. Interior

What should you look for when inspecting a car’s interior? When you open the car, no foul odor should hit your nose. Look for any cigarette burn holes, tears, and visible stains on the car seats. See whether the headrests move up and down smoothly. Then, move to the front and push down the lever under the co-drivers seat. If the car seat moves with difficulty, ask for another car.

Check the dashboard for any cracks, breaks, or stains. Pay attention to the odometer to see whether your potential seller stated the correct mileage. Make sure the protective clear plastic cover in front of your speedometer lacks scratches or missing parts.

Find out whether you have good car mats. Lift them up and move the seats to inspect for holes on the car’s floor.

9. Exterior

Just like the frame, inspecting a car’s exterior gives you a glimpse of its history. You can tell whether the car has an altered body by feeling the fenders. If you come across misalignments, that indicates the point of impact of a major car accident. You’ll also notice uneven spaces between car doors and surrounding panels.

When you use your fingers to knock a car with good paint, you’ll hear a dull and heavy sound. Repeating this test on a motor vehicle with inferior body paint produces loud knocks.

3. The advantages of buying a rebuilt title car

1. Very affordable prices

A repaired title car does not have the same value as a typical used car. Why? Because there’s a huge loss of value after the accident or natural disaster. After renovations, the car moves from “New” to “Rebuilt” even if you bought it a month before the major car accident.

If you’re planning to get your teenage son or daughter their first car, you won’t feel burdened by making a cash purchase. People who need cars urgently and don’t want the hassles of an auto loan can get rebuilt motor vehicles for less than $5,000.

2. You can salvage parts for your favorite car lying in the garage

If you own a luxury car model that got into a bad accident or something big and heavy fell on it, then you know how expensive it is to purchase genuine replacements. Due to the high repair costs, you opted to get a modest car as you figure out how to raise enough money for replacements.

Rather than drive a car you don’t like, you can buy a repaired title car that’s similar to yours. Doing this enables you to get decent spare parts that you’ll use to restore your favorite car that’s lying idle in your garage.

3. A wide variety of cars

Some car dealerships allow customers to trade in motor vehicles with repaired titles as long as they meet certain conditions. Car dealerships buy these cars to have enough stock for buyers with low budgets. These cars have higher turnover rates compared to regular used cars.

When you visit several dealerships, you’ll compare prices on renovated minivans, subcompact cars, pickup trucks, and other types of motor vehicles.

4. What are the disadvantages of buying a car with a repaired title?

A High possibility of recurring mechanical problems – Renovation only restores a wrecked car to a roadworthy level. While reading about how to inspect a rebuilt title car, you know that an altered body frame can prevent car doors from locking and opening smoothly. You also know that a bad body frame causes the windows to rattle continuously when driving at certain speeds. If fire or floods caused the extensive damages, then you’ll most likely experience recurring engine problems. They might take a couple of months to appear but when they do, you’ll have to sell the car for a better one.

No warranties – When buying a used car, you can opt for higher monthly payments in order to have an extended warranty. Doing this enables you to extend the life of your car by maintaining it in excellent condition. A well-maintained car will fetch you a good price when you decide to sell it. Auto manufacturers don’t offer any extended warranties on cars with repaired titles. Why? Because the auto manufacturer will spend more money repairing the car than its actual value. So, buying this type of car means you’ll have to reach into your pockets for any unexpected mechanical breakdowns.

Trouble finding a willing insurance company – You now know that 9 out of 10 auto insurance companies steer clear from rebuilt title cars due to inaccurate valuation. No company wants to make loses by paying compensations that exceed a car’s real value. While you get a good price, you’ll have to spend a lot of time driving from one insurance company to the next. Moreover, you can only get a limited liability cover and this is insufficient if you’ve purchased a recently renovated high-end sedan or SUV.

5. Bottom line!

Should you purchase a car with a rebuilt title? It’s not the best decision due to the number and magnitude of risks involved. You have to spend extra money for a thorough inspection by taking the car to a certified mechanic. In case the car has a misaligned frame, it possesses a great danger to your passengers because the door cannot lock properly.

T here are better alternatives to buying a repaired title car. You can save a huge down payment while improving your credit score to get a car loan for a regular used car. Or, you can save enough cash to buy a modest car that doesn’t require credit financing.

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trendingnewsb · 7 years

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I Own A Bike Instead Of A Car: 5 Reasons Everyone Hates Me

I’m one of those dipshits who never got around to getting a driver’s license. As someone who hates being the designated driver, I am truly blessed by this. However, it also means that I have to rely on public transport for most of my getting-around needs. In recent times, I’ve gotten sick of pee-smelling subway cars and delightfully cramped buses, so I’ve attempted to cheat code my way out of all of that jazz by riding a bicycle to most everywhere. And man, that has revealed a whole new, previously hidden world to me.

A whole new, hidden, terrifying world.

You’ll Always Reek Of Ass

Just so we’re clear, I’m not one of those spandex missiles you see Lance Armstrong-ing their way through the city at breakneck speeds. In fact, as I’ve mentioned before, I’m not an exercise kind of person at all. My workout is of the “bare minimum you need to do to keep resembling a human being” variety, and is exclusively motivated by an innate need to be able to execute a perfect dropkick at anyone or anything I feel has slighted me. At best, I’m the Super Mario of bicyclists: medium speed, medium stats, a little too chubby to pass for an athlete, and I would secretly like to swap my bike for a go-kart.

Still, bicycling is a physical activity, even for someone like me, who uses it exclusively for transportation purposes and prefers to ride at un-exhausting speeds. No matter how slowly you ride, though, you’ll strain yourself way beyond most other forms of transportation. Which means sweat. Which means swamp ass. Which obviously shouldn’t be a problem. Obviously you take a shower and/or change your clothes after you ride to, say, work. Obviously. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

For me, that mentality lasted for about a week.